#and like I’m pretty immune to peer pressure

[stagefoot]

(Note: The point of this rant is not me being smug, and I know luck has also very much been a factor for me. I have been fucking privileged in a lot of ways since the pandemic started, and I fully acknowledge that. This is just a disabled person with a chronic lung condition being…frustrated. Really fucking frustrated.)

So today everyone in our little tech corral (video, audio, and me (lighting), about 10 people in all) were talking about their experiences having covid.

Now, I have not (🌳✊) had covid. I am the only one in the group who has not. I am also the only one wearing a mask. Almost no one in the crowd (2000+ people) or who is part of the show is masked. I’m supposed to see my 80+ year old grandparents in two days and uh yeah I don’t really feel safe doing that. So that sucks.

[asbealthgn]

(i am not immune to peer pressure so here's a continuation. part one here)

It’s so rare that Steve meets anyone nice anymore.

It’s just hard to find people. Dating apps suck, and ever since Robin and Nancy got together, they hardly ever want to go to bars together. And what’s he supposed to do, just drink alone and hope he stumbles across someone? 

Well, that’s exactly what happened today, sans drinking. He was heading for the bus stop, a tiny bit lost but he had a map and was pretty sure he could figure it out. He realizes he’s a tiny bit directionally challenged, and he’s still relatively new in town, and Robin and Nancy just moved to a new place, so it all came together to mean that getting there would take some puzzling out. All the same, he was prepared to figure it out on his own right up until he saw the super hot guy sitting at the bus stop and figured a little help couldn’t hurt.

And that’s how Steve ended up with an unexpected date (sort of) to Robin and Nancy’s baby shower (not a real baby shower).

Robin answers the door and smiles, then does a double take when she sees Eddie. Whoops, Steve probably should have texted her that he was bringing someone. He’d gotten a little caught up in the moment.

“Hey, hope you don’t mind I brought a plus one,” Steve says, hugging her before walking inside. Eddie follows him.

“No, no, that’s fine,” Robin says, voice a little strange as they take their shoes off and she shuts the door. “We’re all in the living room.”

They follow her through the kitchen and into the living room where half a dozen calico kittens and several adults are on the floor.

“Oh my God, they’re adorable,” Eddie says, leaving Steve’s side to get down next to the kittens. Steve gets a huge smile watching him. Fuck, he’s super hot and he’s now holding a tiny kitten, cooing at it? Steve might just get on one knee right now. Or both knees. Honestly, either one works.

If he were paying more attention to literally anything other than Eddie, Steve would notice that nearly everyone else in the room is also staring at Eddie. The only exception to that is El, who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with the mama cat in her lap, both watching the kittens with the same wide-eyed intensity.

There’s a tap on Steve’s shoulder, and he turns to look at Robin. “Can we talk for a sec?” she asks, voice still odd.

“Yeah,” he says and follows her back into the kitchen.

She crosses her arms and leans back against the counter. “So are you gonna tell me what Eddie Munson is doing in our living room?”

“Oh, have you already met him?” Steve asks.

Her eyes widen. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Uh. Yes?”

“Steve, that’s Eddie Munson,” she says, “From Corroded Coffin?”

“From what?” he asks, though as she says, it does sound a tiny bit familiar. 

“Corroded Coffin?” she says, “It’s that band the kids love. Along with like half of America if they’re not completely scandalized by them.”

“So what, you’re trying to tell me Eddie’s famous?” Steve asks. Robin nods. “Hold on, this isn’t like Paul all over again, is it?” Paul was a guy Steve briefly dated a few years ago, and Robin had somehow convinced Steve that he was an Olympic athlete. In his defense, she had mocked up some seriously convincing news articles.

But Robin is shaking her head. “No, I’m serious this time,” she says. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. After a second she turns it around to show him the Google results for Eddie Munson. There are a lot of red carpets and pictures of him onstage. And damn, Eddie seriously is so hot.

“Alright, well, you definitely didn’t have time to photoshop these,” Steve mutters. Robin nods, patting him on the shoulder. How did he accidentally bring a famous guy over?

Just then, Eddie comes into the kitchen, a kitten in his hands. 

“Stevie, look at her,” he says, holding the kitten up.

Stevie? Robin mouths. Steve kicks her as he reaches out to scratch under the kitten’s chin. It mews at him.

“I asked Nancy��she’s terrifying, by the way,” Eddie adds to Robin, “And she said I can keep her.” He lifts the kitten to his face and it purrs as it rubs its cheek against Eddie’s. Steve is actually going to combust.

“Alright, well, I’m heading back in,” Robin says, voice back to that strained quality as she escapes the kitchen. Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, too busy whispering praise to the kitten.

Steve scratches under its chin again and it purrs at him. “What’re you gonna name her?” he asks.

“Don’t know yet,” Eddie says, “Isn’t she per—oh, hold on.” His phone is ringing, so he moves the kitten to one hand as he reaches into his pocket and pulls it out. “Hey Gar….Yeah, ‘cause you abandoned me….No, I’m in Japantown getting a kitten….No, that’s not a euphemism….Listen, I’m kinda busy, I’ll call you later, alright?…Yeah, see you, man.”

While he was talking, the kitten clawed its way up Eddie’s shirt and into his hair. “What’re you doing in there, sweet girl?” he asks, tucking his phone back into his pocket and reaching for the kitten. It’s gotten very tangled in his curls, though, and apparently really likes being there. 

“Lemme help you,” Steve says, stepping closer to Eddie and extricating the kitten. Eddie’s hair is very soft. Good to know. “Here you go,” he says, holding the kitten out for him.

“One sec,” Eddie says. He ties his hair up quickly (also hot, fuck) before taking the kitten back. He boops noses with it. “Such a mischievous little girl.” 

“Well, can you blame her?” Steve asks. He brushes a loose curl behind Eddie’s ear. “Your hair seems like a nice place to be.”

Eddie smiles at him, a dimple appearing on his cheek. “I’ll be honest, Stevie,” he says, voice getting a little lower as he moves closer, boxing Steve against the counter. “At first I just came along because you’re gorgeous, but I think I’ve fallen in love.” He holds up the kitten in one hand.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Steve asks, feeling his face heat. 

“‘Course I do, big boy,” Eddie says, leaning closer and putting his free hand on the counter by Steve’s hip.

Maybe this is stupid and way too forward, but Eddie is so dreamy with his eyes and his dimple and his hair and the kitten in his hand, so Steve leans in and kisses him. It’s a little relieving when Eddie kisses him back, free hand lifting to his hair while Steve wraps his arms around his waist.

Steve doesn’t notice the front door opening or a new group of people that includes Dustin Henderson coming inside. He doesn’t notice them entering the kitchen and freezing as they take in the scene.

That is, not until Dustin shouts, “Holy shit, is that Eddie Munson?”

tagging a few people who asked for a continuation/asked to be tagged (sorry if i missed anyone!): @nburkhardt @stargyles @csinnamon-fox @manda-panda-monium @silly-jellyghoty @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @starquirk

edit to add that this ficlet is complete and the last part is here

[unnervinglyferal]

Congrats on Stinkbug’s first word! Mine was “No” too, and it turned out to be a shockingly accurate indicator of my how opinionated and stubborn I turned out as an adult. Not in an argumentative or obnoxious way, just if I don’t want to or see the point in doing something I Just. Won’t. Do it. Once I make up my mind, unless I encounter evidence which I privately assess and personally decide on as valid, it ain’t changing. I’m also pretty much immune to peer-pressure and coercion, because I judge what people have to say based off it’s objective accuracy and sense, and how it relates to my own values, rather than just blindly following someone’s lead because they’re my mate.

Your kid is gonna be just fine. For all your sakes though, maybe get into the habit of explaining *why* something has to happen rather than just expecting/demanding it be done, even if it should seem obvious. My childhood would sure have been a lot easier if someone had sympathised with me that certain necessary things in life are really fucking dumb and annoying, but they’re necessary for a reason and so still worth doing, rather than just punishing me for not doing them.

Oh trust me, I'm jewish. Stinkbug is going to learn to argue, and how to argue right, right at home. Not following anything blindly and having the spine and teeth to make your own choices and judgements is a virtue that all the others build on. She's going to learn how to clearly tell us why she thinks she's right and why things should be done her way, and then consider what we think about it.

This did not happen today. Today she decided that December is the best time of the year to strip naked and run around the house like that. When asked to get back here and let someone put her clothes back on, she yelled "no!" and bolted. She's started running before she could walk. Or stop. She just speeds off and runs straight into one direction until she crashes on something.

Hoping she'll stop doing that at some point.

[engine-of-love]

An interpretation of Starlight Express characters

So, we all have different thoughts and view on the characters on Starlight Express that have developed since we got into this musical. And at our own risk we make these thoughts known on this sight. Well, I thought I’d have a got at it with the. characters of my choosing: Pearl and Greaseball! 

@marastriker thank you for reading my long rant in the comment section of one of your posts. Always a pleasure to talk Stex when I can with other people.

First up is Pearl. What I think of her is just naive and gives into peer pressure. Like since the beginning, she was told she was too good race with someone like Rusty. Then she goes with Electra after an internal debate (in the form of Make up My Heart). Like she knows she should commit to race with Rusty, but based on what everyone else said she’s confused on what she should do. Basically a decision was made for her and she went with it. And when she decided to make her own choice, she didn’t realize it was a bad one until it was too late. Her naïveté come into play. She partners up with Greaseball without considering how Dinah would feel about it. Granted she didn’t know about the break up, but still went with him insisting that its just for fun and telling Dinah to quit crying. Then Greaseball has Rusty crashed and beat up. After she’s sees this and realizes she made a terrible mistake, she laments that her decision's were not thought out and caused trouble for her and everyone else (Each time I try, it seems that I get sadder but no wiser than before). 

Another part of her character is that she had a bit of a tendency to be a bit superficial. She was drawn to Electra and her partnering with him was influenced by how sparkly and extravagant he was. She wasn’t immune to Greaseball’s good looks either. It’s more evident in the original, but part of why she doesn’t give Rusty a chance is that she’s holding out for some ridiculous fantasy and waiting for her ideal ‘dream train’ (e.g He Whistled At Me & He’ll Whistle At Me). After learning Greaseball commanded his gang to beat up Rusty and Rusty saving her in the race, she realizes that her dream train was there all along and thinks she missed her change because she couldn’t see past the surface (i.e Only He/You, Next Time You Fall In Love). Pearl is seen as either this naive innocent girl who doesn’t know any better or a more-knowing callous girl who doesn’t care if she hurts someone with her actions, but there's bit more to her than that, as stated.

Now for Greaseball. Greaseball is more of a grey area, but one thing a don’t see him as is an abusive cruel monster. Now the things he does in the show are definitely not ok, like coldly uncoupling Dinah when she calls him out and ordering his gang to beat up Rusty, but making him out to be abusive is pretty over the top. In the original, Greaseball was implied to be abusive to Dinah by the second and third class sleeping cars (who were fawning over Greaseball moments before but details). Now that in of itself is too heavy a subject for a show like Starlight Express, not to mention that it just comes out of nowhere. Now its been established that the diesel is arrogant, full of himself and a bit of a bully (I’m being generous here), but with the abuser aspect of him thankfully taken out, we see him as a vain, overly-confident hot head. Getting into a crash with Electra and CB and coming out with all of them looking a hot messes definitely humbles Greaseball and gives him his just desserts. After everything, Dinah rushes to his side and he genuinely apologizes to her. So yeah, Greaseball is definitely a jerk and a bully, but portraying him as some cruel, abusive monster? Get out of here with that!

[asexxxualerotica]

Well, now that that’s settled, it’s time to head to Mesagoza—and, hopefully add some new partners to the team!

…unfortunately, not a single Pokémon in this area even comes close to fitting the description of a punk Pokémon—in my opinion at least. I did find this weird piece of public art, though…a bit strange, but I like its vibe.

Anyway, when all was said and done, I ended up nabbing a Paldean Wooper that I named Crossbones. Sure, she’s not a Dark-type, but with the bone motif she’s at least Hot Topic-type…

And speaking of a hot topic, looks like Nemona wants to battle again!

So this must be this terastylization thing I heard about on my way over to this region! The power boost this gives Pokémon is supposed to be insane—

…as long as it’s not against a Pokémon with a significant immunity to it. Whoops.

Nemona, you are never not talking about battling. But please, continue, I love hearing you feel out about being a Pokémon battle expert.

Whoa, what is this?! Listen, I know I’m new to this place, but I know peer pressure when I see it—looks like I’ll have to step in!

Nemona, it’s not what it looks like! I’m just delivering some well-earned justice in the form of my fists in these kids faces…okay, fine, we’ll settle this with Pokémon…

Gotta say, my first terastylization is pretty freaking sick!

The Pokémon Punk Run

Hey there. The name’s Stark Knight—I’m eighteen years old, a first-class troublemaker since I was old enough to know what trouble was, and apparently I’m now a student at this Naranja Academy? Honestly, I can’t believe this is happening—I was all set to challenge the Galar league and take my proper place as the new Dark-type specialist…but I guess I’m going to school instead…

Yes, Mom—I mean, it’s not like I have an option otherwise, you did put all my punk clothes into storage when we got here, so…

Whoa! What the fuck, man?! Why are you just barging in?!

You’re the headmaster?! Well now I’m even more pissed that you just let yourself in like that—where the fuck did you learn your manners, jackass?!

…Mom. Mom, why are you saying it like that? Mom, he’s my headmaster…and, like, sixty. Mom, I swear to god, if I come back down, and you’re bent over the couch, I swear—

I got my eyes on you, old man. Don’t try nothing if you don’t want to learn why I got thrown out of my last three schools…

Ugh. No way they’re gonna make me wear this hat.

This better not be a distraction so you can have some more private time with my mom, because that threat still stands, old man. Try shit, get hit, got it?

OH HELL YEAH STARTERS!! I’ll be honest, I don’t even know which to pick!

Can’t I just keep them all? I mean, the duckling is a bit boring looking, but that kitty is so cute, and look at the doofus face on that little croc!

[lunavadash-creates]

Could we have part 2 continuation of the puppy dog eye request? It made me feel all warm & fuzzy. I’d love to see how Eivor (Male or female), Basim and Hytham would handle puppy eyes. Thank you so much in advance.

Hello Dear! Thank you for your patience! I had so much fun writing those 💜

Hytham! (aka the sweetest baby)

This man is like a puppy in a body of a human

Always so polite, nice, respectful

I mean, have you seen his face? He has puppy eyes 24/7

Anyway - you knew how hesitant he was on sharing the secrets of his Brotherhood, but, being a curious and stubborn creature, you decided to use your ultimate weapon

The Puppy Eyes ™

It’s not like anyone in Ravensthorpe could resist you anyway

But Hytham? Seeing you like this… he got so shy!

Cheeks? Red

Eyes? Staring at the ground

Heart? Pounding

Speech? Stuttering

But then he slowly raised his head, with those blue eyes of his peering right into your soul

“y/n, please: I can’t do it. I can’t let down my brothers and sisters, no matter how much I want to share everything with you”

For the first time in your life, you were the one who had to bend under the pressure of the most powerful puppy eye stare in the universe

“Fine. Fine! But then I want to try food from your homeland. You said you know how to make it,”

“Of course, y/n” he would smile and this time, it was your heart pounding like crazy

Basim

“What are you doing with your face?” he would say, frowning

He was quite busy with some stuff, so he just spared you a glance before focusing on his work again

“Basim, please? Let me try your hidden blade on?”

“No”

“Pretty please?”

“No”

“Pleeeeeaaaaasseeeeeee” you almost laid on his desk, giving him the best puppy eyes you could manage to make

Yet, he stood still, unmoved, immune to your charm. Was it the power of a true Hidden One? In that case, you hoped Eivor won’t ever learn that trick

“y/n, the hidden blade is not a toy. Not something I can just let people touch or wear, it is a-” he stopped as he raised his head again and saw you, with this sad face and almost watery eyes, sitting there so sad and disappointed

He sighed, knowing that he lost to your charm

“Five minutes,” he said, reaching for his hidden blade to take it off. You couldn’t believe he actually agreed to it, but hey! You wanted to try it ever since the day Eivor received one! Basim helped you wear it, putting the blade on top of your arm, the same way Eivor was wearing it, and then showed you how to use it. But he never let you out of the little house he shared with Hytham

When the five minutes had passed, you gave him the blade back and were ready to leave when he stopped you. “Y/n? Didn’t you forget something?”

“Forget? What?

“The price,” he said with a wide smile that made your heart sink. “You won’t leave me here without any recompensation, will you?” and suddenly he also made puppy eyes, almost perfectly imitating your own. And then you realised. This was the true power of the hidden one and you had just lost against it.

Bonus: soon you discovered that his bedroom eyes are so much more powerful than the puppy eyes

Eivor (I’m playing as a male Eivor because smexy so since you gave me a choice male Eivor it is)

Eivor never could resist you

When you were children, teens, adults, your puppy eyes always gave you what you wanted

Eivor and Sigurd used to say “eyes more powerful than axes”

Unfortunately, your parents were no longer in the picture, after the spring ride, so you lived alone with your grandmother, a wise woman who was making sure you will become a herbalist. It wasn’t a dangerous job, but it was very demanding and important, much needed in a growing settlement

The problem was your heart. You liked working with herbs and all, but you also needed adventures! You wanted to taste the life of a true Viking so, when you heard Eivor was gathering warriors for a raid, you decided to go as well

“No, you know you can’t go with us. It’s too dangerous and you are more needed here.”

“Eivor, please! When my grandma will move on, I will be stuck here forever! Maybe this will be the last year I will be able to actually leave the settlement, don’t leave me behind!” you begged, and when Eivor turned around to look at you, you gave the best puppy eyes you had in your arsenal

Eivor bit his lip, a bit uncomfortable. Yes, he couldn’t really resist and he could see your point. As a herbalist, soon you won’t be able to leave and no, you still had someone who could carry on your work for a few more weeks

“Fine. I guess if your grandma kills me, I can still go to Valhalla” he muttered under his breath

You laughed at him and dashed to grab your axe! The adventure awaits!

[randynova]

hi :) was douma serious about turning his petal into a demon or he just said that to scare her? :o

Hello!

Doma was serious.

He wants to spend his life with his pretty petal and the life of a human is short, fragile even. Any wrong move from his end can result in her leaving him forever.

To prevent her from leaving him too soon, he wants to give her the gift of immortality.

However, before he turns her into a demon, he wants to have children with her. It's a secret desire he always had.

We know a demon and a human can have offspring, but two demons having their own children is unknown I believe.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

"My pretty [Name], my sweet petal, soon we'll be together forever," Doma coos with a grin, grasping your shoulder and pulling you close to him. Yet you remained still, staring up fearfully at the demon king as he glared down at you, looking down quickly.

Muzan considered Doma's request in transforming his wife into a demon as Doma has been one of his most promising and powerful demons yet. Though, he needed to see who he was going to give his blood to before he did anything.

In short, he was disappointed in who Doma presented to him.

A heavily pregnant woman who seemed like a dainty doll compared to Doma’s tall stature. She avoided his gaze as soon as she saw him, wilting in her spot as her hand immediately covered her swollen stomach. If he can recall, Doma told Muzan this would be their fifth child.

There didn't seem to be anything special about her and now, he began regretting his decision to see you. But, he did need more demons and he never turned anyone with a child inside them before. Perhaps, this could be the step he needs to achieve his goal of sun immunity.

With a hum, Muzan's voice boomed throughout the void of countless rooms, "Are you positive this is the path you want to take, Doma? Once I turn her, you can't undo my action and there is no promise your unborn child will be unaffected afterwards."

"Yes, I'm sure, master!" Doma states cheerfully, squeezing your shoulder and letting his hand travel down, slipping through the small opening between your arm and torso, gently rubbing circles on your stomach. His soft touch made you flinch, but he ignored it. He peered down at you with creased eyes, absolute joy consuming him. "Ah, I can't wait. Soon, our dream will come true!"

"This... this is not my dream," you choke out quietly, the nauseating feeling clawing in your throat as the situation dawns on you. The grim reminder made you want to scream, that he only wants you by his side no matter the cost, even if it meant losing your unborn child in the process. Though he forced this situation on you, you still loved the life growing inside you, the lives you gave birth too, and the ones that will come as time goes on.

Was this God's twisted way of making you suffer and pay for your past sins? Loving the children of the monster who forced you to marry him? Or was this Satan's delight? Making you live an eternity with one of his devils?

Your eyes begin to water and you look back at your husband, hyperventilating with every word you spoke. "I... I don't want to be a demon...!"

"Hm? Why not? Being a demon means we can be together forever, my petal!" Doma laughs, wrapping both his arms around you and pulling you into his chest, humming happily as he rests his chest atop your head. "You'll see, you'll love it. And when our children are old enough, they can join us! Then we can be a happy family till the end of time!"

"No, no, no! I don't want this!" You cry, trying to break free from his grasp. He tightens his hold but you still squirm. "Doma, please let me go!"

The demon growls and you freeze. "I know what's best for you, [Name]. You should trust your husband more and be my good, little obedient wife, okay? I don't want to hurt you when you're carrying our baby..."

His words created a rope around your neck, forcing you into a mental corner as every word carried a sharp edge into your mind. Your voice died in your throat, frowning and choking out sobs. There really was no winning this — either way, you would be forced to spend your life with this demon. With the little strength you had left, you whimper, "Doma, please..."

"I said," Doma digs his claws into your hips, voice low as he spat out, "I know what's best for you, my pretty wife."

Doma lowers his head near your ear, hot breath fanning your skin. "I love you oh so very much, [Name], and I'm trying to prove it. Master Muzan is willing to help us," Doma hisses with a cheerful tone, you would almost think he's teasing you - yet you knew better. His claws graze your stomach, pinching your skin with how he applies pressure. Your heart drops. "But you're being very disobedient right now, my petal, and I'm being very patient considering your state at the moment. Don't make me punish you in front of master, okay?"

He's met with silence and he hums. Doma releases you and turns you around to face him, his alluring, sharp smile making you let out a whimper. He squeezes your shoulders and suddenly, his face lights up, the same way when he looks at you.

You never noticed Muzan approach you, only when his fingers wrapped themselves around the back of your neck did you realize. Tears slipped from your eyes and dripped from your chin, falling onto your stomach. His chuckle makes you freeze. A wave of fear washes over you as his nails brush against the sash of your kimono, pinching the obijime between his fingers. He leans down to your ear and whispers,

"𝐁𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲, 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧. 𝐈 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞.".

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Doma does love you, he really does.

He's willing to ask his master to make sure your love lasts for an eternity.

But he's also willing to make you bleed and make you sacrifice in order to achieve it.

Don't worry though, he won't let you die.

All he'll do is keep you in your own personal hell — breeding you to his heart's content, making you bear his children, and worshiping your body every day and night. It'll only make you wish you were dead.

As long as you listen to your loyal husband and be a little, dutiful wife, the rest of your life will sail smoothly and before you know it, you might even love Doma.

Maybe.

Only time will tell.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

©𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚊 || 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 || 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, ��𝚝𝚌. 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚌𝚒𝚛𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 .

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

[ghostbusters-hq]

Workplace Distractions (Egon Spengler x Reader)

words: 1.3k

pairing: Egon Spengler x Gender Neutral Reader

summary:  Egon's been working a lot lately so you go to the firehouse to try and distract him for a while. (Established relationship, Egon trying to be a Good Boyfriend, lots of cute stuff!)

Janine was sitting at her desk, her chin resting on her hand with her eyes cast down at the magazine she was idly flicking through. At the sound of the front door opening, she glanced up.

“Oh, y/n!” she perked up when she saw you, lifting her glasses off her face.

“Hey Janine.” You said, pushing your hands into your jacket’s pockets as you approached her desk.

“What are you doing here, ain’t it your day off?” Janine asked.

“Yeah, I was bored at home. Figured I’d come see what everyone was up to.” You said, and turned to look at the empty space where ECTO-1 was normally parked. You nodded your head towards it and turned back to Janine. “The guys out on a job?”

She nodded.

“Just Ray and Winston.” She said.

“Oh right, nice.” You said, rocking back onto your heels and fidgeting with the few coins that were in one of your pockets. “So um, is-“

“Egon’s upstairs.” She said, giving you a knowing smile, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

By this point, everyone knew that you and Egon were...romantically involved. Not that you minded, of course. In fact, you were actually glad everyone knew, and they were all supportive so that was nice. You just always got a little sheepish whenever it was brought up, even though the two of you had ‘officially’ been going out for a few months now.

“Oh, o-okay! Thanks Janine.” You said, giving her a smile before heading for the stairs.

As expected, you found the elusive Dr. Spengler hunched over his workbench the other side of the room as you reached the top of the stairs. You smiled and headed across to him. He clocked your footsteps as you approached and lifted his head from his microscope, glancing over his shoulder.

“Oh, y/n. I thought you were off today?” he asked.

“Thought I’d come down and bother you instead.” You replied, sidling up to him and giving his arm a playful nudge. He gave you a small smile.

“Fine with me.”

You grinned and peered over his arm to see what was on the desk. “Whatcha working on?”

“Oh.” He said, turning his attention back to his work. “Just taking a closer look at the ectoplasm sample we got yesterday. Very interesting, it’s different to anything else we’ve ever seen...”

He continued talking and you stepped over to an empty part of the workbench and hopped up onto it as you listened to him.

“Sounds pretty cool!” you said, having not actually understood half of the scientific terms he’d used. It didn’t hinder your interest, though. You did genuinely love listening to him speak about his work. He seemed vaguely amused by your summarisation.

“Yes, I’d say it was pretty cool.” He said.

His attention returned to his microscope, and you bit your lip as you watched him.

“So, um…” you said after a minute, breaking the silence. Egon didn’t look up from what he was doing, but you knew he was listening.

“I was thinking, maybe we could…go out for pizza later?” you asked, restlessly swinging your legs.

“I-If you’re not too busy, that is. It’s okay if you have work to finish.” You added quickly, not wanting to pressure him.

Egon looked up and you had your eyes cast down at your lap, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. He suddenly realised he had been working an awful lot lately and you had been incredibly patient with him – as you always were, and he never took your patience for granted.

“I’d love to.” He said, straightening up.

“Really? You’re sure you’re not too busy?” you asked.

Egon smiled and moved across to where you were sitting on the edge of his workbench, stepping forward to stand between your legs.

“I’m sure I can make some time for you.” He said quietly, letting his hands rest on your waist.

You met those big brown eyes of his and felt yourself blushing up to your ears with how close he was.

Egon famously despised most forms of physical contact. He didn���t like shaking hands with people, never mind hugging them. So at the beginning of your relationship, it was mostly you initiating things – after you’d made sure he was comfortable with it, of course.

It had made you wonder if there really was any truth in Venkman’s teasing “40 year old virgin” comments, but you quickly learned that Egon was just self-conscious when it came to expressing himself physically. Despite not being sexually active during his younger years in college, he’d assured you that he had been with a handful of people through his adult life. You’d left it at that.

It made your heart swell knowing that he was comfortable enough with you to let his guard down a little now, even when you weren’t in private.

You couldn’t get any words out before he leaned down and kissed you, so gently that it was as if he were worried you might shatter under him. Your shoulders relaxed almost immediately, and you wound your arms around his middle, underneath his lab coat, feeling his warmth against your palms through his shirt.

Even sat on the workbench as you were, your height difference was still evident with the way you were stretching up to meet him. He pulled away (much too soon for your liking), and you were left gazing up at him, lips slightly parted. Egon smiled, lifting a hand to rest against your cheek, his thumb lightly grazing over the skin there.

“I like it when you blush.” He said, enjoying how you then blushed even harder at his comment.

“I-I…uh…” you stumbled over your words, mind still reeling from the kiss he’d just given you. “Shut up and kiss me again.”

He smirked and leaned down again, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly as he pressed his lips to yours. You could smell the hair gel he used, the smell of soap that still lingered on his skin from his shower that morning, and he tasted of coffee and candy bars (yeah, he really needed to cut down on those things). There was also something else that you couldn’t describe that was overloading your senses – something that was just uniquely Egon. You loved it, and you wanted more.

“Whoah, hey!”

The incredibly enjoyable moment you’d been having was abruptly halted by Venkman’s voice coming from the top of the stairs. You immediately yanked your head back and poked your head out from behind Egon to see him approaching, shaking his head.

“Please, no frolicking in the workplace, kids.” He said. At this point, Egon seemed immune to Peter’s teasing comments, but the fact you’d been caught in the act still got you all sheepish.

“Hello, Peter.” Egon said with a small smile, stepping away from you just slightly. “Did you need something?”

“Forgot my wallet. Ah! There it is.”

By chance, it was lying just beside you on the workbench and he reached over to grab it, then pushed it into his jacket pocket.

“Now, I’m going to meet Dana. Don’t you two lovebirds go havin’ too much fun now, you hear?” he said, giving you a wink before he turned to make his way back to the stairs.

“Mmhmm. Bye Pete.” You said. “Say hi to Dana for us.”

“Don’t forget to use protection!” he called as he descended the stairs. Your eyes widened at the comment, and you heard him chuckle before he went out of earshot.

You sighed and hopped off the workbench, letting out a small laugh. “I’m gonna hit him one day.”

“I think Janine might beat you to it.” Egon said, looking down at you. “But how about we get that pizza first?”

You grinned and nodded, suddenly overly aware of how hungry you were. “Good plan.”

[cixthotshit]

Gon Gonie

Pairing: Lee Byounggon/BX x Original Female Character|Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, just a drop of Angst, College/University AU, Friends to Lover (established)

Summary: Getting BX to see that she had a crush on him was a lot more work than Piti had thought it would be

Word count: 4.3k

Rating/Warnings: Mature / Explicit Sexual Content: Porn With A Sprinkling of Plot, Kissing, Nipple Play, MtF Vaginal Sex

Author’s Note: This is a sister fic to an NCT fic of mine at my NCT fic blog. You don't have to read the original fic to get into this one, don't worry! You can read this as a stand alone one shot fic. But if you're here cuz you read my Yuta fic first, OK, I didn't plan to write this, but I couldn't help myself. I love BX and I had a lot of fun writing this! Sorry if I have any grammar mistakes, I try my best when proofreading but things always slip through. I always appreciate some feedback on my writings!

Piti tucked a little of her yellow tshirt under her left boob, the underside of her breasts were sweaty. She bent down under her desk to check the connection of her computer and webcam before reaching behind her to pull her cotton pink shorts down. It was riding up her left butt cheek. Her fuzzy pink slippers made her toes sweaty, so she kicked them off, letting them roll over toward her wooden coffee table.

“I mean, I think I did it right,” she said, glancing behind her to see BX adjusting the lighting to the lamp she’d purchased 2 weeks previously. “If I can’t stream tonight, I’ll just tell Willa that I wasn’t meant to be a CamGirl. It sounds like such easy money.”

“You already have a big following on Insta,” he replied. “I thought you had sponsorships.”

“They don’t always pay,” she said, sitting on her desk chair. “Thanks for trying to help. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“No problem,” he said, his eyes fixed on the lighting in her living room. “At least you’re nice to me.”

“Suchin’s mean to you too?” Piti asked, laughing. BX had always received fairer treatment from Piti’s elder sister, but BX was much kinder to Suchin than Piti ever was. It was unfair for Suchin to be mean to BX.

“She’s been mean to everyone,” he answered. He sighed, pulling his phone out of the back pocket of his skinny jeans. His eyes were glued to the screen as he sat down onto her baby blue couch. “She says that she’s stressed. I’m stressed too, you know?”

“What’s up?” Piti asked, walking away from her desk, which was set up beside the door to her balcony. She walked to the couch that sat beside her desk.

Sitting down next to BX, Piti took his left hand into her hands. There was a Bandaid wrapped around the top knuckle of his middle finger. She grinned, remembering when they’d FaceTimed in the morning. He’d cut his finger while cutting up an apple. For as long as she’d known him, he was prone to accidents.

They met when she transferred to a new university the previous year. He had always been her older sister’s friend, but she got along well enough with him that she could text or call him to ask about tech issues she had. Pressing her lips together to moisten the corners of her bottom lip, Piti had to admit that he’d become more than just her go-to tech person in the recent months.

Since starting his Film Studies, BX had come into contact with Piti more. He was filming partners with her sister. She was often trying to get Suchin’s attention, mostly asking her for help. Suchin had been busy directing and interviewing subjects for her documentary, so BX had become more reliable. He’d been the one to talk her through clearing out the clogged sink in her kitchen while he cleaned up the flesh wound on his middle finger.

His head rested against the back of the couch with his fingers half hidden behind the loose sleeves of his oversized grey sweater. His eyes remained glued onto his phone when she ran the tips of her fingers against his palm. Piti swallowed air as her eyes remained fixed on BX’s tongue licking his lips. The red of his lips reminded her of the Thai chili peppers she’d put into the curry she made for dinner. Her tongue burned with a sharp heat, remembering how hot the curry had been.

“I know our professor sucks,” he spoke up, his damp lips glistening under the lamp light. She released his hand, realizing he didn’t care what she was doing to his hand. The shaggy fabric of her periwinkle throw pillow cushioned her lower back as she rested her back against the couch. “I don’t know if film school is working out. Maybe I should have gone for medical studies. Do something in social sciences.”

“You’re still young,” she said, grabbing his hand again, giving it a squeeze.

His tone had sounded tired, more like he was thinking out loud instead of having an actual conversation with a human being, a very cute one too. Piti would remember never to give Film Studies a try if she wanted to keep her stress levels low. She bounced in her seat when he squeezed her hand back. Their eyes locked, and she gave him a half grin.

“You can change your career path whenever you want. Why do you think I want to give OnlyFans a try? I don’t know how long I’ll be this cute with such pretty tits.”

He gave a dry chuckle, his eyes returning to the illuminating light of his phone. His mouth was frozen into a handsome grin. Piti ran her free hand through her hair to stop herself from reaching out to touch the dimple on his cheek. She shifted herself to brush her chest against his arm, her heartbeat thumping rapidly up her back.

“Thanks for helping me,” she said, shifting her eyes to peer toward him. His eyes were lidded as he seemed to be reading something on his phone. “You help me out so much.”

“Come on,” he said before giving a scoff, tutting his tongue against the back of his teeth. His grin widened as his eyes returned to meet hers. “Of course. Any time.”

“Can I help you with anything?” she asked. She squeezed his hand again. “I’m sorry you’re stressed.”

“Thanks for listening to me complain,” he said, setting his phone down on the armchair.

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes, pressing herself closer to him, “that’s hardly anything. Um, BX?” She squeezed his hand again. His face seemed to be coming in closer. The scent of Coke was infiltrating her nose as the warmth of his breath tingled her lips. “Do you think I’m cute?”

His lips touched hers, and she shut her eyes. Her entire face flared up in prickling heat. Her mind could only form curse words together as they flashed behind her eyelids in bold red letters. An overwhelming pressure built up in her chest, making her sinuses tingle uncomfortably.

He wrapped her into his arms, his hold warming her up. She broke their kiss, placing her hands onto his shoulders as she gave out a sob. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Piti?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “Am I a bad kisser?”

“No, silly,” she replied, snorting a sob when she inhaled a breath. She shut her eyes as BX gave out a belly laugh. She groaned as she threw her face into his chest, fisting her hands into his sweater. “I like you so much, BX.”

Her voice was muffled, but she was completely embarrassed, unable to look up. She’d never liked anyone as much as she liked BX. When she’d realized that she liked him she did her usual flirting tactics. She put in extra effort into her looks when she met with him, such as when she called him to ask for assistance to set up her new webcam. It never failed to get her hookups’ attention whenever she was looking her most desirable.

Her yellow top was old, so the fabric was loose and slightly transparent. The hole at the hem near the left side of her hip was supposed to be tantalizing, she certainly always ran her fingers to play with the fabric there. The soft yellow and pink together made Piti feel like she was a colorful candy, ready to be unwrapped. But he seemed immune, uninterested.

“And it makes you sad?” BX said, his tone going low. His hold on her loosened.

She looked up at him, and the nerves in her jaw lit up, sending a warm sensation down the front of her throat. His gaze was soft, his lips barely parted. Tilting her head up, she gave a sniffle before kissing him. She shut her eyes, furrowing her eyebrows as she opened her mouth to capture his luscious bottom lip between hers. His tongue licked her lips, making her insides squirm like fish caught in a net.

“I like you,” she said again, pulling away from his kiss, the inside of her ears burning up. She’d never wanted to be the first person to admit to having feelings or attraction, but she knew there was more to her attraction to him than physical attraction. “I’ve been putting on my cutest clothes. I always make sure my hair is all bouncy and curly. And like, you never look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his dimple deepened as he smiled widely, touching his forehead to hers. “My mind’s been focused on the doc.” He paused. She shut her eyes as the warmth of his hand cupping her cheek sent a shiver down her back. “Holy shit, Piti. You like me?”

She opened her eyes and felt goosebumps form along her arms. His gaze was soft, and his eyes slowly drifted down her neck to her body. When his eyes met hers again she nodded gently.

“I’ve never wanted like, a boyfriend,” she confessed, her cheeks hot and her nipples hardened as heat surged down to her stomach, “but I don’t even know how many nights I’ve been going to bed thinking about you. And like, when you finally kissed me, like, I’m so embarrassed. I want you to like me back so much.”

“How can I not like you?” he asked. His thumb caressed her cheek, making her body warm up. He gave her a chaste kiss. “You’re always feeding me those rice balls with tuna. You thank me for the smallest things. We made that study playlist together and we split the songs up evenly. You’re the sweetest person I know.``

His hand touched her hip, massaging her before sliding it down to touch her thigh. She shook as his fingertips touched the bare skin of her inner thigh. His touch made her nerves light up in erratic flames, his fingers soft like silk. Her shaggy throw pillow was making her butt sweaty, but she didn’t want to break the mood by reaching behind her to toss a purple pillow aside. Every word out of his lips made her insides warm.

“You’ve got the most beautiful body, the softest skin, kissable lips.”

“Keep going,” she whispered, pressing herself closer to him.

“It’s brave that you live on your own,” he said, “and you’re never afraid to ask for help, either.” She pecked his lips. She’d wondered for weeks what he thought of her. Hearing him speak of her in nothing but positives filled her whole body with a comforting warmth. “Your confidence makes you hot, and lovely.”

“You’re like, the perfect guy,” she said, raking her fingers through his hair. His cheeks flushed and she planted wet kisses onto his cheek and neck. He laughed, his hands pulling her into his lap. “I’m serious, BX. You’re so patient, and like, you’re so caring to me. And you’re a beautiful man.” He groaned, shutting his eyes. She planted a kiss onto his left eyelid. “Your eyes are so pretty when you smile.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “Your nose is cute.” She kissed his cheek. “Your skin is so much clearer than mine.” He chuckled. “Your lips are perfect.”

He kissed her, his tongue pushing against her lips. She opened her mouth and pushed her tongue against his. He groaned into her mouth, and she gripped onto his shoulders tightly as she felt a hand grope the inside of her thigh. He tasted like sugar and salt, the familiar blend of Coke and McDonalds fries filling up her senses.

“Fuck, you’re so bold,” she breathed out when she broke their kiss, the mixture of their saliva leaving a wet trail down her chin. She moaned, looking down at BX’s hand push up against her groin. His thumb pressed against the hood of her clit, and her hand shot down to grip onto his wrist. “Byounggon -”

“Gon, call me Gon,” he demanded, pushing his hand up and down against her slit. Red heat blinded her.

“Gon,” she said with a loud exhale. Blinking, she threw her fingers up to cover her smile as his cheeks flushed again, his head bowing down. His thumb drew circles against her, sending waves of heat deep inside, making her buck her hips. “Gon, oh my God!”

She gasped and bucked her hips again. His fingers slipped under her shorts, and she felt a hot flash of pride wash over her body. He’d grinned as he glanced up at her, feeling that she hadn’t worn any panties. Two of his fingers slid against her folds, applying pressure as they dragged upwards, making goosebumps form along her back and up her arms. Her grip on his wrist tightened as she looked up at him, his gaze drifting up to look her in the eyes.

“How do you worship your God?” he asked, his smile widening as he pressed his forehead against hers. “Calling me out already, that’s cute.”

“Gon,” she said, her cheeks hot. “Are you teasing me?”

“You don’t like it?” he asked. His hand slid away from her core, making her insides shake.

“Don’t stop,” she said, her grip on his wrist tightening again as she pressed her fingers against his hand.

“Hey, there’s a special word that you didn’t use,” he said, his smile disappearing.

“Gon?”

She closed her eyes as he kissed her, his tongue warming her lips once more. His hand slipped away from her hold, moving to caress her hip. Throwing her hands up to his chest, she pushed him off as she opened her eyes.

“‘Please,’ is the special word,” he said, looking down at her, his eyes barely open. “I know you can be a brat, Piti, but I don’t tolerate brattiness well, not when my dick is involved.”

She gave a shy chuckle, biting her bottom lip when his eyes drifted down her body. His finger pinched the fabric of her top near her left breast, and tugged down. Piti felt the folded fabric slip away from the underside of her boob, and she smiled, feeling her cheeks flush.

“That’s been bugging me,” he said, his hand sliding under her shirt. She pressed closer to him as his hand warmed her up, making her body shiver with his touch. “Your tits are distracting.”

“I know they’re cute.”

“Let’s see how cute,” he replied, grinning. His fingers grasped onto the front hem of her shirt and pulled it up. He groped her left breast, his fingers pinching her nipple. Her core flared with a deep heat, and she squeezed her thighs together. “If you become a CamGirl, you better charge top dollar. Your tits...your breasts...titties of a Goddess.”

“You’re such a cornball,” she said with a chuckle, scrunching up her face as she shut her eyes. He gave a gentle, low guffaw. A wet, slick sensation pushed up against her right nipple, and her gut felt a hot pressure release heat into her body as a sharp pinch hit her nipple.

She opened her eyes and raked her fingers through BX’s hair, watching him lick and suck on her breasts. As his mouth moved to her right breast, he fondled her left with his hand. She moaned out his name, pulling him closer against her. His body felt so good against hers, she wanted to melt into him.

“Want to fuck?” she asked, cupping his face into her hands. She pulled him up to look at her face, forcing his tongue away from her hardened nipple. “Please, Gon?”

He gave a gentle chuckle as he tilted his head down to plant a kiss onto the side of her neck. She shut her eyes, savoring the deep, calming heat his lips gave to her body every time he kissed her. She ran her fingers through his hair again. A low groan reverberated into the center of her chest as he kissed her there.

“Should we take things into the bedroom?” he said softly, making her face flush as he sat up straight. He pulled her body up against his. He touched her chin with his thumb and forefinger, pulling her face close to his.

“Yes, please,” she answered, nodding before he gave her a gentle kiss. Her body lit up, and she pulled forward, deepening their kiss.

He broke the kiss, and caressed her cheek with his thumb as he cupped her face with one hand.

“You’re cute when you say please.”

She took a deep inhale of breath as her hand reached to touch his groin. He groaned, and then tilted his head down to kiss her. They groaned into each other’s mouths as she applied pressure onto his cock, rubbing up and down his growing erection. One of his hands grabbed her breast, squeezing it and flicking her engorged nipple.

Pushing him away, she stood up as she took her top off. She slipped her shorts off and tilted her head to her left before turning away from BX to walk to her room. She bit her bottom lip as she heard him get off her couch, the sounds of his belt buckle unfastening ringing loudly in the quiet apartment. She giggled, trotting to her room as she heard the heavy steps of BX’s behind her.

“Really?” he said with a huff. “You’re going to make me chase you?”

“You’re so stressed you didn’t even see me showing my ass off to you,” she called out behind her as she jumped into her bed, the springs to her mattress squeaking as she reached to her night stand to turn the lamp on.

“I’m sorry,” he said, walking into her room with his sweater in his hands. He stopped at the foot of her bed, tossing his sweater to the floor. Her cheeks flushed and she felt adrenaline rush up her body as BX looked at her on the bed. “You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re hot,” she replied, standing on her knees, reaching over to grab his hands. “Come on, Gon. Please? I’ve been so horny for you.” “You’re horny for me?”

He gave a guffaw as she laid down onto the bed, letting him go. She shut her eyes and sighed loudly, resting the back of her curled fingers against her temples. She’d never had a partner stop to make jokes as she was naked in bed, begging him to fuck her.

The springs of the mattress squeaked and groaned as BX got into bed with her. Goosebumps formed up her legs and arms as she felt his body over hers, his left knee pushing her legs open. She gasped, opening her eyes, when she felt his hands grasp onto her wrists. Blood pumped furiously at her throat as he pressed her arms down into the mattress.

“So,” he asked softly as he looked down at her, his eyes moving up and down her face, “what will it take for you to call me again?”

“Gon?” she said against his lips as he pressed his lips over hers. She shut her eyes as his lips moved to capture hers. His thigh pressed up against her, and she moaned into his mouth as his thigh continually pressed up against her, the pressure of his thigh muscles flexing against her folds sent sharp heat into her body.

She breathed heavily through her mouth when he released her lips. His lips landed on her neck and his teeth nipped at her sensitive skin before licking and kissing the sweat off her neck and jaw. She took a sharp inhale of breath as his fingers tightened their hold on her wrists, her skin aching. The familiar wet sensation of BX’s tongue licking her tits returned as she exhaled out a sweet moan.

“Oh my God, that feels so good, Gon,” she said barely above a whisper. She squealed out a frustrated groan as his teeth captured the engorged bud on her right breast, grinding his teeth back and forth. Sharp, mind melting jolts of heat hit her groin like lightning. “Oh my God! Gonie! Gonie!”

“Gonie?” he said, his teeth releasing her immediately. Piti took in heavy, shaky breaths, her body so hot and her nerves so sensitive, BX was one thigh flex away from making her come. He kissed her lips. “That’s cute, Piti. Gonie. I’m your Gonie.”

“Gonie,” she said softly, breathing heavily, “are we going to fuck? Please?”

He chuckled, his fingers released their grip on her wrists and glided down her arms to caress her breasts. She arched her back and shut her eyes as her pussy was aching for his cock, her core wet and warm. A sharp heat hit her stomach as his hands kneaded her breasts.

“I like it when you ask in a sweeter way,” he said. She shut her eyes as his hand groped her right breast, her body radiating with a frustrated heat.

“Will you please put your beautiful cock inside of me, please?” she said immediately. He kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. The chuckles in his throat reverberated into her chest, sending sharp heat into her nipples.

When they broke their kiss, they sat up so she could grab a condom from her night stand drawer. She sat up in bed, and kissed his shoulder as she watched him put the condom on. He grinned at her, seeming to enjoy the attention. His hand stroked his cock before he laid down onto his back.

“What position do you like?” he asked as she laid down beside him, turning her body in toward his.

“Spoon me and play with my clit, please?”

“You’re so cute,” he said, his eyes lighting up as he smiled from ear to ear. “I like it when you say please.”

He kissed her before letting go of her so she could turn around to face her back to him. She felt a shiver ride down her body as his sweaty front came into contact with her back. His tongue licked her earlobe as his hand massaged the inside of her thigh, pulling her to lift her leg a little. She rested her head onto the pillow under her as she felt him enter her from behind. The kiss he planted onto her neck made her give out a gasp. His cock pulling the walls of her pussy apart caused her nerves to dance wildly, making her skin light up.

“Gonie,” she gave out a soft moan as she felt his hand fondle her breast.

He pushed in deep, and she gave a loud exhale. She grunted as he began to push in and out in a slow, deep rhythm, making her feel every motion of his cock. Desperate squeaks escaped her lips when his cock twitched inside of her as he paused, balls deep inside of her.

“Fuck,” she breathed out as BX’s hand moved between her legs, and she felt two of his fingers press against her clit.

She wriggled her hips against him as his fingers drew circles around her clit, and then spread to glide down against her labia before going back to draw circles around her clit. Her mind was spinning, like she’d ridden on a roller coaster where her legs dangled in the air as the giant machine she was strapped to made a giant 360 degree loop. Trying to focus, she thrust back as he pushed his hips toward her.

“Fuck,” it was his turn to swear. He groaned as he began to pick up a faster pace. She couldn’t keep up and shut her eyes as she threw her hand back to grab his hip to feel steady. Her fingers dug into his wet, soft flesh as he continually rutted into her. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Gon,” she panted out, “Gon! Gonie! Fuck me just like that.”

“It feels good when you squeeze on my cock,” he said against her ear as his fingers flicked her clit up and down. The sensations of sweat gliding down her back and chest overcame her as her mind went through another 360 degree loop. Her cunt clamped down on his cock as his fingers played with her clit. “Fucking hell, you’re going to make me come.” The bed springs squeaked and groaned in a furious, erratic rhythm as his fingers left her clit to grab the back of her thigh to push in deeper.

“Gonie, I’m gonna come,” she said desperately, her face unbearably hot. “You’re fucking me so good, Gonie. Your cock, Gonie!”

He guffawed, clearly on a high at her praises, keeping his fast pushes going. His fingers gripped onto the back of her thigh before gliding to grope her ass. Finally, his fingers returned to her clit, and she immediately lost herself. Three fingers rubbed against her clit before he captured her engorged bud between his forefinger and middle finger and pulled, milking her clit.

Champagne gold fireworks exploded before her eyelids as her body seemed to feel weightless, though she could still feel BX’s cock thrusting in and out of her. Her mind was spinning endlessly as her whole body tensed before an overwhelming calm overcame her, relaxing all the muscles in her body.

His hand moved up to massage her breast as he planted kisses onto her shoulder. His fast pushes continued as she turned her head over, opening her eyes slightly. BX bent forward and kissed her, closing his eyes. She gave a soft whimper as he gave a handful of erratic, sharp pushes into her. His tongue pushed aggressively into her mouth before he released her lips.

Spent, neither of them were able to speak, though BX withdrew from her. She shut her eyes and she listened to him move around, likely disposing of his condom. A low groan escaped her lips as she felt him spoon her, his lips warming her cheek.

“When can we do that again?” he asked into her ear, tickling her nerves and making her giggle.

--

Thank you for reading!

[dameronology]

love in a time of p.t.a meetings {marcus moreno}

one shot #3 - 4am

summary: you’re used to it just being you & your kid, and you’re even more used to taking on the world on your own when it gets hard - so, it’s difficult to let marcus in, even when he wants to help {series masterlist}

warnings: parenting themes, very brief mentions of loss, probably the nearest thing you’ll ever get to angst in this series and it’s not even angst 

sorry about the huge gaps between the one shots!! life is v hectic at the moment and i am running around like a headless chicken 24/7. what a vibe. enjoy :) 

- jazz xx

Things had been going smoothly - too smoothly. 

That meant it was only a matter of time before your mini demon child decided to kick up a fuss and do something completely, irretrievably wild. He’d done it before - there had been the fire incident, the shaving the dog incident, the you can’t re-enact the final scene from Revenge of the Sith with pencils incident. You’d taken them all in your stride and tried to learn from them; what else could you do, other than roll with the punches in life? Nobody was born knowing how to parent and you had to constantly remind yourself that. 

But this? This was fucking exhausting. Jack’s sudden refusal to sleep was absolutely kicking the life out of you. And even though he seemed to enjoy living in the Moreno house, you couldn’t help but feel your big move had been something to do with it. You were plagued with guilt at the thought of ripping him away from his childhood home, despite the fact he’d been excited to live with Marcus and Missy. You knew it was all in your head but still, his sudden misbehaviour was really bad for your guilty conscience. It was one thing having your parenting questioned by the minivan mums on the playground but something else entirely when it came from your own mind. 

‘Jack, please!’ You reached out for him, pulling him off his bed and forcing him to lay down. ‘It is 4am. Go to sleep!’

‘No!’ He thwacked your arms away. ‘I don’t want to!’

This was the fifth night in the row that he had refused to sleep. Whether it was loudly banging on the walls or playing Life Is a Highway at full volume from his iPad, the little human had taken it upon himself to deprive the entire family of sleep. Normally, you could have handled it (just about, at least) - but work had been beyond busy and with the loss of an elderly family member, everything was beginning to pile up on your shoulders.

‘I cannot do this tonight!’ You tried to suppress your frustration. ‘Jack, please.’

You didn’t want to cry. They weren’t even tears of sadness, more tears of frustration. Frustration that you couldn’t seem to get through to your own kid, and frustration that he wouldn’t listen. You were sleep deprived as fuck and it was out of your control. The temptation to wave your white flag and let Jack have what he wanted was almost overwhelming. 

‘I don’t want to sleep!’ He yelled. ‘I don’t have to do as you say!’

‘Fine!’ You flapped your hands in the air. ‘I’m done, Jack. Do whatever the hell you want.’

Tossing the stormtrooper you were holding to the floor, you turned your back and stalked out the room, shutting it behind you. 

Your back hit the wood with a thud as you slid down it, the formidable pressure on your shoulders finally prolapsing. You rested your head in your hands, letting out a silent cry. Fuck, you hadn’t cried in ages. Most of the time, you were immune to the absolute craziness that came with your child, but you just needed a break. It had just been you and him for so long that you were used to handling it all on your own and you hadn’t had a day off since he was born. Even when his dad had been in the picture, you’d still practically been a single parent. Doing it on your own was all you ever knew. 

You hadn’t even realised that Marcus had come to sit beside you; not until you felt a warm pair of hands on your shoulders, and the softness of his pyjama shirt against you. For a man who had been losing as much sleep as you and running a superhero team, he was surprisingly with it. His ability to hold his shit together was astounding. 

‘I am so sorry.’ You murmured. ‘His behaviour has been bad but not this bad.’

‘You don’t have to apologise, sweetheart.’ He replied. ‘Kids are stubborn as hell.’

‘It’s not even that.’ You sniffed. ‘It’s just that he won’t listen. And I’m the one person he should fucking listen to.’

‘You don’t have to have the solution to everything.’ Marcus reminded you. He gently wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb. 

‘What if it’s my fault?’ You leant further against his side. ‘What if me uprooting him from the apartment messed him up?’

‘No decision as a parent is easy.’ He said. ‘Especially not ones like that, but you did what’s best for you and him and that’s all you can do. It’s a lot of change for you both but it was the right choice, I promise you.’

‘Maybe.’ You murmured. ‘It’s just...I’ve always been his only parent. Like I am single-handedly responsible for the way he turns out and I do not want to accidentally screw up.’

Marcus softly chuckled. ‘It’s gonna take a lot more than you moving house for him to be a screw up - besides, I’m here to help now too.’

You peered up at him. ‘You don’t have to deal with his shit.’

‘Maybe I want to.’

‘Yeah, but you don’t have to.’

He thinned his eyes at you. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing.’

Marcus moved his arms from you, shuffling around so that you were facing each other. He had a way of holding your gaze that nobody else quite managed; even his brown eyes were tired from exhaustion, he still managed to look right into your fucking soul. Maybe it was part of his job, or maybe he just saw through your bullshit. 

‘Please don’t shut me out.’

You let out a small sigh. ‘I don’t want you to feel like you have to get involved with my kid’s crazy shit. You had a peaceful life before this and-’

‘- I’m not gonna do what his dad did.’ Marcus suddenly cut you off. You could only blink in surprise. ‘I know that’s not you’re saying but it is what you’re saying.’

You’d got got pretty good at your little juggling act over the last five years; it was like you had three balls - Jack, work and everything else the universe had to throw at you. And maybe you weren’t just juggling, but you were doing it on a unicycle. Sometimes it felt like you were going to lose your balance and drop everything, but you’d managed it this far. The idea that Marcus wanted to help you and actually, genuinely had your best interests at heart was an alien idea. You were used to doing everything on your own. 

‘I’m sorry.’ You murmured. ‘We were let down and it’s gonna take time to heal. That’s on me.’

‘No, it’s not.’ Marcus took your hands in his. ‘We’re a family, okay? Nothing is ever going to change that now.’

You gave him a watery smile. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’ 

He stood up, pulling you up with him. 

The fact that not even Marcus and his unusual talents to get your child to behave were working was a testament to Jack’s rough patch. He was normally obedient as hell when it came to listening to him - probably because he was a superhero, you figured. Either way, you both just wanted to sleep. 

Marcus slowly creaked open the door - the sounds of Jack jumping up and down on his bed had stopped, but the godforsaken song from Cars was still blaring in the background. You peered over his shoulder on your tiptoes, trying to get a view at what was going on. By some miracle, the child was now passed out in the middle of the floor. Five nights of no sleep had finally caught up with him, in the same way they were about to catch up with you. 

You gently crept inside and tugged his iPad from his hands, giving him a soft kiss on the forehead. If you moved him from the rug to the bed, you would have woken him; instead, you pulled his blanket from his bed and tucked it over him. 

‘C’mon,’ you took Marcus’ hand as you exited the room. ‘Before we wake the sleeping dragon.’

He tossed an arm across your back, pulling you into his side as you walked down the hallway. 

‘The only person who can wear that kid out is himself.’ He reminded you. ‘Maybe we just need another Jack.’

‘Please don’t give me nightmares.’ 

[darnittumbleweed]

HC: You and Spencer drunk together on an FBI night out & you both declare you fancy one another & end up going back to Spencer's apartment. ;) (Make it smutty if you want)

You’ve danced around each other for so long now

everyone knows you’re crushing hard

everyone is frustrated that neither of you will do anything about it.

It’s another night out with Reid and you both giving each other moon eyes but refusing to make a move.

Garcia threatens to lock you in the bathroom together.

Emily tells her no, that you both have to figure it out on your own.

“But we’ve given them three years to figure it out on their own!!!”

JJ is the one who orders shots. When mom has the night off she parties hard.

Reid tries to pass on the shots but peer pressure man. He’s not immune.

Reid doesn’t handle his alcohol well...and neither do you apparently.

Just randomly staring into Reid’s eyes and blurting out “Oh wow! Your eyes have like this golden ring around them. It’s so stunning.”

Reid fast to reply with a  smoothness sober Reid wouldn’t let happen. “you’re stunning. You’re always stunning.”

“Pft, no you! You’re stunning. Look at me! I’m a garden troll compared to you! You’re like an elf and I’m a freakin hobbit.”

Reid grinning at the Hobbit reference. “You’re adorable. You’re so an elf, like Tauriel pretty!!”

The kiss is unexpected and a little sloppy to be honest.

Emily is the responsible adult and calls you two an uber setting it to go to two stops trying to stop you two from having a drunken hookup.

Emily isn’t the boss of you though....I mean technically she is but whatever.

You talk the Uber driver into only stopping at only Reid’s place. Whatever the driver is still getting paid either way.

Making out on the couch.

Dry humping like teenagers.

At least some sober part of your brain has the sense not to let it go too far.

He does see you topless though and you find out Reid is so a boob man.

You do at least manage to grab a sleep shirt when you start getting sleepy.

The next morning is awkward and painful.

Hungover and remembering everything from last night.

Texts from Emily “You better both be in your own beds.”

Texts from Garcia: “Can I plan the wedding?” “When can I expect genius babies to spoil?”

Text from Luke: “You guys were so wasted last night. You flirt like nerds. Penelope had to explain who the heck Tauriel was to me.”

Text from JJ: “Sorry I thought you’d like the tequila. If it makes it better I’m still tipsy and Micheal has new toy that’s super noisy.”

You can’t avoid talking about what happened.

Reid is tired of pretending he doesn’t want you.

You’re stunned when he spills his heart to you.

You can’t lie.

The kiss tells him how you feel.

You have your first date that morning at a diner enjoying a well-known hangover cure of greasy breakfast. 

[pokemonswshbutionlyplayedsword]

I just watched two social experiment documentaries where a group of 10 boys and 10 girls were left to live alone together for a week with no adult interference (unless it was a safety issue) and I wondered how Allister, Milo's brother, Hop, Bede, Marnie, and Melonyʼs daughter would fare in that situation.

I think I’ve seen that one. If I’m thinking of the right one, it was super interesting.

Allister is a responsible kid who doesn’t feel the need to act out. I’m sure he’d be fine. And he’s immune to peer pressure, so no need to worry about that.

Milo’s brother is also a good kid, but sometimes he does kid stuff and breaks rules. He only needs to eat nothing but junk food for a day before he learns his lesson though. He’s not big on destroying things, so that’s the only interesting thing.

Hop is an explorer, but a very polite explorer. He’s definitely trying to find something, or solve a mystery (i.e. a conflict between two other kids that needs a mediator disguised as a detective). He’s not really trying to break any rules, though. More junk food than usual, staying up late, but nothing special. He gets to break all his rules with Leon anyway.

Bede is trying to be the perfect kid. No rules broken. Trying to tell the others what to do. He’s definitely trying to keep everyone else in line. He stands on a chair and announces some rules, but is pretty much ignored. Eventually, they goad him into joining.

Marnie is always a rule breaker. But Piers has very few rules for her (because he’s also a rule breaker and can’t set rules for himself either). So she doesn’t feel a need to go crazy or anything. She talks some kids down from making dumb choices. Mostly, she just does whatever she wants.

Melony’s daughter has a lot of rules. But she’s with her best friend Marnie, who’s punk rock, in an environment with no rules. She goes nuts for one day, learns a hard lesson about being responsible for one’s self and what 3 lbs of chocolate and a whole family sized bag of Skittles looks like puked up (not pretty, that’s for sure).

This is with other kids filling in the other roles, btw, they’re not alone with each other.

[sleepymccoy]

Okay! I’m joining in the butteromens fun!

This is a carry on of @n0nb1narydemon ‘s kick off post, which you can find here . Also, there’s two more buttery contributions to the thread that i want to link up, cos they’re both wonderful. There’s @freyjawriter24 whose story you can read here, and @aethelflaedladyofmercia whose story you can read here

I tried to move away from the damsel in distress sorta Crowley and put him in more of a participation ribbon kinda role, cos i figure while he’s hella into the whole Aziraphale can fight thing, he’s also pretty useful!

Word count is 3500 cos i cant control myself and i havent written just silly banter in so long and i enjoyed it so much! So the bulk is under a readmore cut <3

-

“I'll get the bill, shall I?” Aziraphale offered.

“No, no,” Crowley muttered, pulling his legs in from their rather wild sprawl under the table so he could use them for walking again. Aziraphale folded his napkin politely and left it on his plate, already moving to leave the cozy booth they'd shared. 

“I picked the place, I can pay,” Crowley insisted as Aziraphale began to shuffle out. 

“But you always pay when I pick the place."

Crowley took the other exit route from the curved bench. They ended up sitting across from each other, watching warily for a tell or a flinch. 

“I pay,” Crowley said carefully. Aziraphale’s feet tilted forwards like he was preparing to run for the register. “You just usually pick the place.”

Aziraphale’s feet flattened on the ground and Crowley began to relax. He would be allowed to pay again. Wonderful. Then-

“Let me get this one, dearheart,” Aziraphale said with a pout. 

Crowley’s confidence slid from him like jelly from a warmed cup, hitting the floor with a wet slap. Pale eyebrows tilted in, blue eyes shimmered, and pink lips showed their colour in full. Crowley withered, quickly beaten. 

Aziraphale's pout deepened and Crowley gave up, swiftly falling in love all over again.

It hit him often, this love. He was constantly tumbling down a hillside, not trying to catch himself, just slipping and stumbling further with every glance and smile from this angel.

“Alright, if it matters to you,” Crowley said airily as if his insides weren't squirming in adoration. Aziraphale grinned and bounced up, scurrying off to pay. 

Crowley shut his eyes and laughed to himself reluctantly. He would get Aziraphale back for this, he would take him somewhere marvelous and expensive, somewhere on a top floor or deep in a garden or on a boat, where the appetiser cost at minimum £200. And he would pay the bill in full, flourishing the receipt obviously. Let him read the four figures and find a way to thank him. And then Crowley would be winning again.

Someone cleared their throat by him, so Crowley opened his eyes and peered up, his pupils not hurrying to readjust to having to see. 

The figure swam in silhouette for a moment before solidifying. 

“You look familiar-" Crowley's stomach lurched. "Gabriel.” 

“Demon,” Gabriel greeted. Crowley scuttled, moving from Gabriel as quickly as he could, which turned out to simply not be quick enough. He flew back but saw the sword Gabriel swung reach for him. He followed the arc with his eyes and knew it would hit his chest.

The sword point stopped, pressed to his left pec, stinging furiously as it pierced his skin. Crowley froze and the sword went no further. A feint.

“Wha-” Crowley sighed, staring as a bead of blood welled up and tracked up the sword, defying gravity to cling to the sharp of the blade. 

“You fear this weapon,” Gabriel pointed out, his voice a whisper. Crowley flashed his eyes to watch him, studying him with the focus of one terrified. Gabriel grinned, wide and sick with cruel meaning. “It can hurt you.”

The sword flicked, swinging impossibly fast and slicing the air to rest against the side of Crowley’s neck. Crowley kept watching, keeping himself dead still. Gabriel leaned forward inexorably slowly, gently slicing a paper-thin stinging line under Crowley’s ear. 

“This is an unpleasant surprise,” Aziraphale said. 

Fear drained from Crowley at the sound of that voice. 

“Aziraphale, hello,” Gabriel said coolly, stopping the slow thrust of his sword. “Be a good angel and sit down, yes? You know how to be attentive.”

Aziraphale stepped out from behind Gabriel and politely sat where he had before. He didn’t look at Crowley, didn’t glance away from Gabriel for a moment. 

“I think, perhaps, we should discuss this,” Aziraphale suggested gently, his tone calm like he was dealing with an erratic animal. “Why are you here?”

“We forged a new sword,” Gabriel said. The sword in question wavered, nicking Crowley’s neck again as Gabriel turned and faced Aziraphale. “You can’t be immune to it," he spat, "it's made to slaughter you both.”

Crowley slid lower, laying flat on the cushioned chair, unwillingly aware of how low and demonic he sat below the two angels. Aziraphale met Gabriel's gaze with a silent challenge of his own. Quiet, furious expressions were exchanged as Crowley's fingers splayed under the table, grasping hopefully for something he didn't find.

"I see," Aziraphale finally said, just as Gabriel hinted at turning back to face Crowley again. The heel of Crowley's hand touched glass and he grabbed it triumphantly. 

"Angel!" He called out in warning, laying flat as he did to keep himself out of the way. He chucked the bottle, the arc tidy and foreseen, into Aziraphale's right hand.

Aziraphale swung the bottle at the sword, knocking it up and away from Crowley’s prone form. Gabriel turned, leaving Crowley completely unattended as the sounds of metal on glass filled the restaurant. 

Crowley flung himself over the low wall behind the chair, searching for safety.

“Not working, Crowley,” Aziraphale muttered, his words crystal clear over the repeated shattered glass that sang through the air. Crowley paused and saw that Aziraphale had not managed to light the bottle with his fire. Not sword-like enough, apparently. 

“Oh, piss,” Crowley said. 

Gabriel knocked the last of the bottle from Aziraphale’s hands and turned on Crowley again, catching him as he sat on the top of the thick, low wall between the seats, straddling each side in a near escape.

“Double piss,” Crowley whispered, taking care to not move as the sword tip pressed against the soft skin under his chin. He sat slightly higher than Gabriel stood, but not by much. Regardless, not being so low anymore gave Crowley a dash of pleasure.

“Be still,” Gabriel commanded. The sword nicked him. Crowley went still.

“You see this, Aziraphale? I want you watching,” Gabriel spat, the sword pressed higher, cutting Crowley as it went. 

“I’m watching, yes,” Aziraphale said gently, not a waver in his voice. “What’s the purpose of this, Gabriel? Why not just leave us be?”

Crowley couldn’t see Aziraphale from here. He could glimpse Gabriel when he glanced down, but the sword bit when he did so he kept his eyes skyward. 

“You took something Heaven owns,” Gabriel accused.

“I took nothing.”

The pressure of the sword wavered, then lessened. Crowley risked a glimpse and saw that Gabriel had turned to face Aziraphale, his expression furious.

“What did I take?” Aziraphale asked. “You can have it if it makes you leave us be.”

Crowley elongated his spine, carefully and inhumanly stretching so that he could slip out from the touch of the sword without alerting Gabriel to his movement. It was delicate, but he succeeded and lay down flat on his back, keeping his legs completely still as they still sat in Gabriel’s periphery. 

“Your servitude, Principality, you owe us yourself.”

Crowley added a few more vertebrae reluctantly, it was sore work and human muscles weren’t designed for this kind of effort. But his body rose to the occasion and let him sway as a snake, an extra two feet of length given to his torso that allowed him to slip over the side of the alcove wall and check for useful items. 

And there he saw it. An umbrella. 

“Oh, that’s just ridiculous,” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Really? That’s what you’re demanding?”

Crowley reached forwards and found himself a few inches short. He stretched and a few scales popped painfully into being on his skin, making the distance. Aziraphale continued to rant and hold Gabriel's attention. 

“You have so many angels, you can’t just let me go? And I own one thing in this world and you’re trying to take that from me and you think I won’t fight against it? More the fool you, Gabriel.”. 

Crowley quickly turned back into a human, umbrella in hand. His spine shortened as he sat back where he had been left.

Aziraphale stood to the side and a bit behind Gabriel, having taken a step at some point to keep Gabriel’s vision away from Crowley’s acrobatic efforts. He looked angry, his mouth spluttering as he spoke, but his hands were calm, held in the air around his stomach as if ready to catch what Crowley threw.

“Ownership is love, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said. "You cannot love a demon!”

Aziraphale had not looked at Crowley, he showed no sign of seeing the umbrella Crowley now held, but Crowley was confident nonetheless. 

“Hup!” Crowley said lightly as he flung the weapon over Gabriel’s head. 

Gabriel spun to face him, unbalanced by the call to attention. He might have seen that Crowley threw something, but his eyes didn’t track it. Instead he gripped his sword with both hands and swung in a strong downwards arc. 

Crowley flattened, rolling aside as the blade came towards him. Just before he slid onto the couch behind him, flames filled his vision, scorching his face with their heat. The sword stopped, held easily by a burning umbrella. 

Crowley skittered to the side and fell into their neighbours bay, leaving the battle behind him. 

The fight ensued. Loudly, with grunts and clangs and the ongoing crackle of flame. 

There was a bottle of white wine on the table, as well as a terrified pair of humans. Crowley gave them a smile that was probably not calming, he had been a lot of snake very recently, and picked up the bottle. It tasted cheap. He spun and knelt on the chair, surveying the fight from over the top of the partial wall.

It seemed fairly evenly matched, which impressed Crowley mightily as Gabriel wielded a sword that was designed to wound Aziraphale, whereas Aziraphale wielded an umbrella that was designed to avoid rain and was now steadily turning to ash as it burned. 

Crowley leaned forwards, humanly this time (although his hips were bending more than the average middle aged human would find comfortable), and tipped the half a bottle of chardonnay on Gabriel’s head. 

The roar of fury that Gabriel eminated cracked windows, but Aziraphale didn’t flinch. He used the moment of distraction and cleanly disarmed Gabriel. Sadly, this simply meant the sword clattered to the ground rather than Gabriel’s hand. 

Crowley leant on the flat, dusty top of the wall and watched as Aziraphale swung a leg out and caught Gabriel by the ankle, sending him tumbling to the ground. Gabriel, to his credit, moved quickly, bending his leg to right himself, getting a purchase on the floor with his hands quicker than anyone had a right to. But Aziraphale stepped smoothly, as if he had always meant that to be the next moment (he likely had) and knelt on Gabriel’s chest, the length of the umbrella held to Gabriel’s throat.

“I will hold you to a vow, Archangel,” Aziraphale whispered. 

The flames licked Gabriel’s chin. His fine collar singed then caught fire, destroying the thin, expensive fabric with ease. Through it all, he glared silently.

“You will take no part in a hunt for me again,” Aziraphale instructed. “You will leave me and mine in peace, alone and ignored on this Earth. Vow it.”

Gabriel’s mouth clamped shut. His eyes watered as his skin started to grow red from the heat of the flames pressing into him. 

“I will kill you here, Gabriel. You tried to take what’s mine and I will kill you for it. Unless you make this vow.”

“Why not just kill me?” Gabriel asked. His flesh was puckering at his throat, curling and blistering slowly as the fire refused to let up. The smell of cooking meat began to filter through the air. Crowley usually had no problem with such a smell, but this made his stomach turn. 

“I have free will, pawn,” Aziraphale said with an easy contempt. He held the umbrella in place. “Vow it.”

A moment passed, heated beyond the righteous flame, as the two angels stared each other down, identifying how this would end. In death or vow. 

Gabriel shut his eyes and began to speak. For a moment Crowley couldn’t understand, then the echoes of choirs rang under the words and a tremor took his bones as the vow filtered through his body. He recognised Enochian and gave up on trying to follow the conversation. That effort would prove pointless in all regards except in giving him a headache. 

Aziraphale responded to Gabriel in the same language. Crowley caught a moment of Demonic as Aziraphale said his name. Gabriel repeated the Demonic intonation somewhat maudlinly.

Then, with no grand ending, Aziraphale stood. Gabriel took a breath and lifted himself to his feet with more dignity that Crowley thought he deserved. His shirt fell open, the collar and chest burnt to uselessness. His wounds were sickening, but not lethal. The sight of exposed sinew, blackened chin bone, pained and working throat muscles on display as his sloughed skin stretched and adjusted would have bothered Crowley were it on another entity. As it was he felt a malicious glee at the pain it must cause.

Gabriel snapped his fingers and disappeared.  

The umbrella dropped immediately, the fire extinguishing the instant it left Aziraphale’s hands. 

“Crowley, how are you?” Aziraphale asked, immediately rushing around the alcove to reach him.

Crowley touched his throat, the sting of wound still fresh and smarting. He felt wet and looked, not alarmed at all to see a thin scattering of blood on his fingers. 

“I think I’m dying, angel,” he said blandly. 

Aziraphale’s hands wrapped around his head, pulling him into place for a quick kiss to his forehead. Crowley smiled into it, not needing the comfort one bit but enjoying it all the more for that fact. Aziraphale manhandled him gently, angling his head back to study his slight wounds. “Oh, you’re fine, you silly snake,” he muttered.

Crowley ran his hand across his throat then held it up for Aziraphale’s inspection. “It’s real blood, look!” He said triumphantly. 

“Here,” Aziraphale sighed, pressing his thumb to Crowley’s jugular and pouring a rush of warm sensation into his wound.

Aziraphale pulled away with a flash of apology in his expression. “Oh, it may scar, my dear,” he said. 

Crowley grinned and rolled his head, testing the strength of his skin. The heal lasted. 

"That's okay.”

“I am sorry about all that,” Aziraphale said, glancing to the sword that still lay on the ground. 

Crowley hooked his finger between Aziraphale’s shirt buttons and pulled him in for a kiss. Their lips pressed, then stayed pressed for a beat longer than a casual peck. Crowley used the moment to run his hands down Aziraphale’s torso, confirming to himself that he was unharmed and well. Aziraphale shimmered with vitality, his pulse high and his skin warm. Crowley broke the kiss and sat back, momentarily breathless at the force of joyous life before him.

“I knew I was safe," Crowley whispered. "I mean, you own me, right?”

Aziraphale’s mouth opened, then he frowned, let go of Crowley and gasped before finally saying; “No-”

“I’d need your permission to die,” Crowley interrupted, “wouldn't I, boss?”

“Oh, Crowley, that’s not what I-”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale with deeply exaggerated deference. “May I rejoin your high and mighty table, sir?”

“I don’t see you as mine,” Aziraphale pleaded, “not in that way, just-”

“Oh, Lord Aziraphale-”

“Now, that’s blasphemous, cut it out,” Aziraphale said quickly despite himself. Regret splashed across his face, interrupted by his sigh.

“I just meant that, well, Heaven sees ownership and love as somewhat interchangeable, so I was…” Aziraphale locked around sadly, then took Crowley’s hands in earnest. His eyes were serious and so blue. “I’m sorry, it was an inappropriate thing to say about you. I would hate to hold you in any shadow of the way they held me.”

“I know,” Crowley whispered. He smiled, his amusement coupling with his adoration and spilling over without anything to keep it down. He moved, a desire to kiss his angel filling every fiber of him, and found himself met by insight and reciprocation as Aziraphale pulled him in. 

They stood in the still restaurant, everything still tense and slowed after Gabriel’s disaster, and kissed. 

“Does it hurt?” Aziraphale asked, his lips still brushing Crowley’s as he spoke, his fingers delicately trailing the small lines of scar that Crowley’s neck bore anew. 

“Not a bit.”

“Shall we go home, sweetheart?”

Crowley kissed him once more, quietly confident he was about to be scolded into the next century but fully intending to push his luck regardless. Aziraphale pressed his lips to him, returning the kiss fondly. 

“Yessir,” Crowley agreed.

Aziraphale’s calm face fell into an unimpressed glare. “Don’t you start that.”

“Whatever you say, sir, I am your humble servant,” Crowley said grandiously. Aziraphale glared at him.

"I love you, Crowley, I don’t own you."

"And I love you," Crowley agreed, before quickly stirring the pot. "But I do belong to you!"

"No-"

"Angel," Crowley interrupted again. Aziraphale paused, hearing the slight change in his tone, the hint at sincerity. "I’m mine to give. Free will, babydoll, I give myself to you."

Crowley ran his hands down the sides of Aziraphale's face in adoration, taking a moment to fix his bow tie and flatten the creases from the front of his shirt. 

Aziraphale, in a very darling fashion, sighed as though he was being put out by this attention. "I don’t know," Aziraphale mumbled.

"I trust you with this gift," Crowley pressed. "Entirely."

There was a beat as Aziraphale considered his shoes. Then a second sigh and the angel smiled. "You ridiculous, beautiful demon," Aziraphale muttered and Crowley knew it was done.

They stepped apart. Crowley tidied a few pieces of errant cutlery and completely ignored the shattered table. Aziraphale gingerly picked up the sword and frowned at it. Crowley watched his expression for a moment, then came to the solid decision that he was going to leave that entirely to Aziraphale to sort out.

They made their way to the Bentley unhampered by restaurant staff.

Aziraphale went straight to the back of the car, popping the boot with an action any other Bentley would not have recognised but Crowley's car obeyed. He slipped the sword in with a frown.

Crowley waited by the passenger door, leaning against it so it remained closed. 

"Dear?" Aziraphale asked warily as he reached Crowley, indicating vaguely his question as to what Crowley was doing.

Crowley smiled. "Would you like me to kiss your feet first?"

Confusion flashed across Aziraphale's face, followed quickly by outrage. "Don’t- no! Of course not!"

Crowley opened the door and waved the petulant angel in. Aziraphale went, following his habit more than obedience. "I could clean them when we get home," Crowley continued, leaning against the door frame smiling down at the annoyed love of his life. "Or a massage, you’d like a massage."

Aziraphale perked up and glanced at him, his expression easing as he was distracted. "Oh, would- ?" He caught himself and frowned. "No!"

He buckled his seat belt pointedly while Crowley laughed. 

"Oh, I’m so going to give you a massage!" Crowley exclaimed in triumph before closing Aziraphale's door and darting to his own. He cheerfully ignored Aziraphale's tracking glare as he rounded the Bentley. 

"Crowley-" Aziraphale began, his voice filled with condescension. 

"Do you have any rosemary oil at the shop?" Crowley interrupted.

"No, but really you needn’t-"

"I know a place, don’t worry."

The car took off, tearing down the street without pause. Aziraphale gripped the dashboard and threw Crowley a dangerous look, but didn't tell him off for it. 

"I do have some frankincense oil," Aziraphale muttered as Crowley took a roundabout with malicious slowness, pissing off a businessman perfectly.

Crowley began to laugh again, first a chuckle then a full bellied roar that would have sent the car spinning if it hadn't been so self sufficient. "Oh, yeah, that’s the ticket!" Crowley grinned. Frankincense, then maybe Aziraphale would let him rub myrrh into his forehead! 

"Really, dear. I saved your life," Aziraphale scolded.

"Yeah, you did," Crowley admitted.

"Do you think you could thank me by not making endless fun of me?"

Crowley threw him a risky grin. "Nah, I’ve decided a life of servitude is more my speed."

Aziraphale sniffed and crossed his arms. "You’ll forget in two weeks."

"Well you know I’ll make it to fifteen days, now! You just want a good fortnight of pampering, don’t you?"

"Crowley, darling- "

Crowley took Aziraphale's hand, accidentally interrupting whatever he'd meant to go on to say. He brought it to his lips and kissed the angel's ring fondly. 

"Thank you," he whispered. He followed it with a gentle kiss to Azirpahale's knuckles and moved the steering wheel carefully to take a corner with as little turbulence as possible.

"It was for myself as much as you," Aziraphale said. His thumb pressed to Crowley's lips for a moment, so Crowley kissed it. 

He dropped Aziraphale's hand and pressed his foot to the floor, speeding the Bentley up. Quite enough sincerity for one drive, that kind of thing doesn't come naturally to a demon. "Selfish bastard," Crowley quipped because Aziraphale let him and Aziraphale understood. 

It was quiet for a moment before Crowley took a brave breath and admitted a few things in one sentence.

"Also, ah, next time you want to say I’m yours maybe feel me up a little too?"

"Ah, I see!" Aziraphale said, accepting the change of tone easily.

“That whole thing- the fighting and competence and so on- that was pretty damn hot, angel,” he muttered, staring in determination out the window. 

Aziraphale’s hand landed on his thigh and tightened, gripping him with confidence. “Let’s hurry along home, then, my best thing,” he suggested.

Crowley ground down impossibly harder on the pedal, making the car fly down the street.

[homesteadalternatives]

A LETTER FROM LAURA: STRESS, WALKING, AND HOMESTEAD.

Dear Friends,

“Stress will kill you,” said his doctor, this story recounted to me by a close friend long before COVID made anxiety the proverbial elephant in the room.

For me, a Type A personality to the max, stress manifests in my sleep cycles. I wake up at 4:00 a.m., my mind racing.  I know to meditate, get exercise, and have come to find Homestead Alternatives Hemp helps.

But, yes, chronic stress is a risk factor for cardiovascular disease, poor immune function, high blood pressure, diabetes, depression — pretty much everything bad in the modern world. It hits us all, whether you are a “type A,” an extrovert, an introvert, or wear no label.

I was particularly interested to find a peer-reviewed journal article which detailed one of the physical ways stress impacts our bodies at the cellular level, by reducing telomere length. The link to the article is here, showing that telomere length indicates cellular age, rather than chronological age. So shortening end caps on your chromosomes, telomeres, is directly tied to the warning that “stress will kill you.”

I don’t want to go before my time, so I try to do the whole program: walking at least 3 miles every day, getting my heart rate up with a short fast run, and now that I’m vaccinated, rejoining my yoga class. (Zoom just wasn’t the same.)

I’ve also come to rely on Homestead Alternative Full-Spectrum CBD for sleep. While it’s not perfect, I’ve found it helps, as have many others.

Walking in nature helps, too. Later this spring and summer, I’ll be inviting customers of Laura’s Mercantile to come take a walk with me on the farm. We might even do some yoga under the oak trees at the Homestead Log Cabin!

In the meantime, if I can get my husband to quit snoring, I’ll sleep like a baby!

As always, thanks for being a friend of Laura’s Mercantile, and supporting Homestead Alternative products.

Fondly,

Laura

[homo-sex-shoe-whale]

You guys don't need to read this but if you want to, it's here

Content warning: depression, suicide, addiction. Probably some others so just beware

Hey guys. It's about time we have a chat.

I know I'm not running this blog like I used to. I know I'm not as active. And I'm not here to apologise for it because at the end of the day I don't owe y'all shit. Even content. But I do want to get my thoughts out into the universe. Not as a confession, but as a way of making all that's happened to me feel more organised. You'd be surprised how much peace of mind organisation brings me.

My main focus at the moment is keeping myself alive so time can drag me along and frankly, that's taking a surprising amount of the little energy I have.

I always knew I was at a higher risk for depression than most people. My great aunt committed suicide and my whole family found her. I grew up watching my other aunt be clinically depressed. 90% of my relatives are alcoholics or addicts in a way or another. I had emotionally abusive (yet astoundingly unaware) parents growing up. I was violently rejected by my parents when I was outed to them before I was even ready to come out. Yet somehow I thought I was immune to depression. I always thought "That can't happen to me. I'm pretty, I'm smart, and I have everything I need and more."

Then I started feeling this weird emptiness inside. I stopped caring about things I used to love, like TV series or books. I just thought I was maturing and was soon going to develop new interests. Then I stopped caring about maintaining the relationships around me. I didn't have the energy to talk properly even to people I loved. I grew cold and my gf and I broke up. I lost some friends here and there. I just thought I was moving onto a new chapter and that this meant new relationships were coming my way. Then came the sleep disturbances. I woke up 1-2 times almost every night, and took over an hour to fall back asleep. But I've always had trouble sleeping. I started taking sleep supplements at age 10. Just anxiety over college applications, I thought.

Then I started losing weight. I thought it was kind of weird that I felt nauseous every time I started eating, but didn't give it much thought. After all, I've always been underweight. Both my parents were underweight as teens and struggled to reach a healthy weight until their mid-late 20s. At first I was barely 2kg under. But then it dropped more. 3kg. 4kg. 5kg. I had no energy for anything eventually. I couldn't even exercise anymore without feeling like I was gonna faint.

Then I started doing riskier things I wouldn't normally do. Talking to random girls in hopes of hooking up. I knew they didn't care about me, and in turn I didn't care about them back. I just hoped they would make me feel something, even if for just an hour or two. I went out to parties I wasn't supposed to be at and hoped I could perhaps drink my troubles away. I understood why so many of my family members were alcoholics. I processed alcohol faster than anyone else around me- I could take 3 shots of vodka and be sober again by the time everyone else was still on the high.

I went to a pharmacology course once and we talked about why some people were heavier drug users than others. We discussed how some people were genetically fast-metabolisers and others were slow-metabolisers. Fast-metabolisers were more likely to be addicts since they felt the "high" faster than others, but also came out of it faster, meaning they take higher amounts of drug. Just for fun some of us at the course got tested. My genetics told me I was a fast metaboliser, and I wasn't surprised.

I did all this knowing I was genetically and psychologically more susceptible to addiction. And like everything else in my life, I didn't give a shit. I never needed alcohol. I could go weeks without even thinking about it. I knew I wasn't an alcoholic, especially not as a teenager. But I knew how much more than the average person I could drink, especially for my size. I knew it could hurt my body. Again, I just didn't care at all. I wanted to care. I loved my body and I wanted it to last long so I could see better days. No one peer pressured me. No one even suggested these parties to me in the slightest. I was fully at fault. Rather idiotically, I hoped the chemical numbness would distract me from the emotional one. That failure goes without saying.

When I realised it, I had no energy for anything. And that's where I am now. It feels like everything takes so much effort. Getting myself out of bed. Writing pieces of schoolwork that would normally be dead easy. Don't get me mistaken here- I am not, and have not been, suicidal. I already feel dead enough. What I want is to feel alive, not more dead. I'm searching for these things that will make me feel alive. Girls and whatnot. I don't even hate myself or have low self esteem. Fuck, I'm beautiful. I think that every time I look in the mirror. I'm so smart. I just get things. But I just have this emptiness inside of me I can't shake. I just can't seem to care about anything anymore.

I know the appropriate response here is to see a professional. I'm not a fool. I'm not going to say I am depressed because I don't believe in self-diagnosis. However, again, I'm not a fool. I've seen depression before. I know what it looks like. I'm unfortunately well acquainted with it. I know there is a chance I am depressed.

However, it doesn't really matter. I am a minor and my parents don't believe in mental health. Last time I told them I wanted to see a psychologist, they grounded me. They're the type of people who think you can just "get over" depression. So seeing a professional isn't exactly an option.

This is why I say I'm just keeping myself alive and letting time drag me by. I'm moving out in less than 9 months. I'm not a minor anymore next year. I'm in not-so-ideal conditions, sure, but these are not permanent.

It's a shitty situation, but that's ok. Unsurprisingly, I don't seem to care about that either.

If you read this post up until here- congratulations! I don't really expect any replies. Please don't DM me. I don't have the energy to chat. Comment whatever you want, if you decide to do so. I appreciate the well intentioned anons you guys have been sending me, even though the attention is just a bit overwhelming.

Thanks,

Ana.

[youcancallmecirce]

Avatar Role Swap AU: The Lost Firebender

Ok, so, I decided to write this.

(The full post is here.)

I don’t know what it’s going to be yet, a collection of drabbles and one-shots or a full chapter fic.  This first installment, though, is pretty much straight out of S1:E1, right up until they meet the dude inside.  Read it below, or on AO3.  I’d love to hear what you guys think! 

 “Okay, you’ve gone from weird to freakish, Katara,” Sokka said when the water settled.  

They were sprawled on a thick sheet of ice. A moment ago, it had been tilted almost vertical by the torrent of water thrown up by the collapsing ice.   Now that it had leveled out, Katara blinked the salt water from her eyes and looked at the chunks of shattered ice floating around them. She blinked again.  “You mean I did that?”

“Yup,” he answered, gently nudging her with his elbow.  “Congratulations.”

A growing blue glow from beneath the water caught Katara’s attention, and it soon had her brother’s, too.  They stood, shifting away from the edge, and Sokka used his spearpoint to brace himself on the slick ice. Whatever it was, it was rising quickly from below them and it was big.  They staggered as it broke the surface, creating a wave of displaced water, and they staggered.

It was more ice, Katara realized, but not like any ice she had seen before. It wasn’t angular like glaciers; rather, it was smooth, like a water-worn stone.  Stranger still, it still had that unearthly glow, and it emanated from something encased within. She took a cautious step forward, peering at the distorted shape.  She squinted. Was that...a person?   

As if feeling her scrutiny, a pair of glowing blue eyes abruptly opened and fixed on her.

Katara took a stumbling step backward, her eyes blown wide.  “It’s alive!” she gasped. She plucked the whale bone club from her brother’s back and darted forward.

“Hey!” Sokka yelled, grabbing for her.  He missed. “Katara!” 

“We have to help!” she said, leaping from their ice sheet to the large mass with the glowing center.

“Get back here!”  Sokka yanked his spear from the ice and ran after her, determined to protect her.  “We don’t know where that thing came from!”

Ignoring him, Katara lifted the bone club and brought it down hard on the ice, right in front of the frozen figure.  Sokka made no move to stop her, and she swung again, grunting with the effort.  

The ice split on her fifth strike.  It was a tiny crack at first, hissing with the release of stale air, but it grew until the force of it pushed Katara back into her brother’s arms.  They sat, stunned, and watched as the crack snaked up the surface of the ice bubble, venting air like steam from a pressurized pot. Then the bubble ruptured and a column of blinding blue light shot into the sky.  She and Sokka ducked to shield themselves beneath their raised arms--both from the light, and from the ice shards raining down around them.

Katara lowered her arm slowly as the light faded.  

A tall, slender man with glowing eyes rose from the jagged ice.  He was imposing, with clenched fists and rigid shoulders. For a moment, Katara worried that she’d made a mistake in releasing him from the ice. 

Sokka, who was thinking along the same lines, lifted his spear menacingly.  “Stay away from my sister,” he snarled, but they needn’t have worried.

The man faltered, the light in his eyes faded, and he fell bonelessly forward. 

Katara caught him, barely, and found herself looking down at a badly scarred boy only a little older than Sokka. He didn’t look like any of her own people.  People of the Southern Water Tribe tended to be more solidly built, with warm complexions and blue eyes. This boy’s face was pale, and stood in stark contrast to the large red scar that disfigured his left eye and ear; his features were angular, and he wore his hair in an unfamiliar top knot.

He was remarkably handsome, in spite of the scar, and Katara was not immune to the proximity of an attractive young man near her own age.  She studied him intently, and smiled shyly when his lids lifted to reveal unfocused golden brown eyes. His left eye didn’t open fully, she noticed.  The scarred tissue kept it to a narrow slit.   

“Are you okay?” she asked as he sat up, groaning.  “What’s your name?”

He blinked at her, looking dazed.  “I’m Zuko.“