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darsynia · 7 months ago

Text

New (Nomad Steve/Nurse!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST | Ro Roll

Summary: As soon as two weeks ago he’d have said that keeping to himself was the easiest part of his life right now… but that was before he met you.

Word Count/Warnings: 2,400 | None

As 1/7 of my Birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, NEw is a first kiss hurt/comfort fic about writing your own happy endings. It's a hugely busy week for you and there's no pressure to respond right now, they'll all be here when you have time!

Excerpt:

Lately it feels like exhaustion is your religion. Stay up way too late, stumble home confused and euphoric and try to will yourself to sleep, then wake up and perform miracles to get yourself back to the hospital for your shift. You’ve always been a night owl, but your shift supervisor practically considers you the ward’s brand ambassador, and to keep the peace, you agreed to stay on the day shift. You’d gotten the schedule down to a science, right up until a tall, gorgeous complication started to jog at the track after hours.

The name he’d given feels fake, but nothing else about him does, and you know all about needing to distance yourself from the horrible things you’ve seen at work. You suspect he was a soldier until he got out, and after that probably a firefighter, but you’ve never asked. Mostly, you just try to keep up with him. The sum total of the words you’ve spoken to each other probably wouldn’t make for a single meet-cute in a romance novel, but they feel consequential enough to you.

NEW

It takes Steve a painful amount of time to adjust to hiding.

It isn’t just that he’s recognizable, it’s that he’s always stood out, always. As a small baby he’d been gasped over by strangers, as a sickly child he’d see concern and aversion in their eyes, and once he’d grown into a scrawny adult, those reactions had just intensified.

Some accused him of making himself sick to avoid the war, as though he could have secretly known it was coming and starved himself into stunted growth just in case. For some, it didn’t matter what he looked like-- any man who wasn’t at war was fair game for ridicule. Even those who didn’t care either way found his presence unnerving simply because men his age were scarce. He reminded them of the people they missed, the people who didn’t have the ‘protection’ of being physically unable to join up.

If his life was a narrative, he’d be the best protagonist he could be.

Even so, there was a special kind of hell in wanting so desperately to fight for justice and be told how lucky you were to be disallowed. Back then, it had been important to him not to hide. There were certainly others in the same boat as he was, men who needed groceries, to watch the news in the theater, to have a walk in the fresh air. So he went out anyway. He was the example, the target, the archetype.

Once he had the serum, hiding meant all the hard work by Doctor Erskine and Howard Stark would be for nothing, so he didn’t. Even in tights.

The symbolism was even stronger when he came out of the ice. Now, people look to him as a lodestar meant to bring them all back to decency and safety, and he wants to, but with action, not iconography, no matter how potent.

That hadn’t been enough, and now they’re here.

“You’ve been tying your shoes for five minutes, man. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Sam.” Steve finishes up quickly and straightens. “Daydreaming, I guess.”

Sam leans over and looks out through the thin rectangle of night sky visible through the thick curtains. “At this point I think you can just call it dreaming. Stay safe out there.”

Steve watches Sam head off into the kitchen before he slips out of the apartment door and locks it behind him. He and Sam keep nocturnal schedules, but Natasha’s expert-level camouflage skills have netted her a day job that keeps them all afloat. Their plan of moving from community to community taking seasonal jobs has worked well so far.

This is the most ‘domestic’ of their locations to date; they’re spending the lead-up to Christmas in a small city in the midwest full of people who know how to keep their heads down and get things done. No one’s expecting a trio of superheroes to settle in a satellite town whose main attraction is a vintage bowling alley, but there are other calculations to consider. People make eye contact here. They bring their real selves to the conversation, and Steve’s been struggling with some real guilt about that.

As soon as two weeks ago he’d have said that keeping to himself was the easiest part of his life right now… but that was before he’d met you.

As it has for the past week, your heart starts racing when you get close to the track. The problem is, you were run ragged today, and you feel just like the mermaid from the original fairy tale. Every single step is like knives stabbing the balls of your feet, and your arches are singing ‘fuck you’ so loudly you expect Ursula to show up any minute.

You stop on the bench right inside the gate to let the burning pain subside a bit. The last thing you want is for your burly new crush to think you’re a lightweight, not now that the months of forcing yourself to run after work have paid off so nicely with… well, him.

Besides Frank, the school’s night security officer and all-around nicest tough-guy in town, there isn’t anyone else visible on the brightly-lit track. You take the opportunity to cross your ankle over your knee and reach for your shoe in preparation to swap it with the sneakers in your bag. These are a new pair, and you’d planned on wearing them every few days to break them in. As soon as you get your heel off you understand just how much you screwed up by not bringing the others in to swap into once you realized how go-go-go your day would be. The swelling is bad, and the beginnings of blisters sting in various places. There’s no way in hell you can jog today, and walking home is going to be excruciating. It’s a god-damned miracle you have the day off tomorrow.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” you mutter under your breath. The John F. Kennedy High School campus is the same distance from the bus stop as your apartment is, but in the opposite direction. Your feet had already been screaming, why hadn’t you gone home instead?”

“Thought you weren’t coming!”

Your crush’s voice cuts through the late November chill, warming your heart. You look up and see him crossing from under the bleachers, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. He’s far enough away that you let yourself sigh, half in addlepated pleasure in seeing him, half in utter frustration at yourself. He’s the reason you came, of course. You’d walk across fire to spend time with this guy, and by the time you head home, that’s definitely what it’ll feel like.

“Sorry, long day,” you tell him once he’s close enough.

Hurrying, you yank off your second shoe and nearly swallow your tongue from the pain. Tears stand in your eyes, exacerbated by the surprise when you look up and your new friend is right there, almost like he'd teleported over. He’s crouched in front of you, and there’s nowhere to hide from his concerned scrutiny.

He confirms your assessment of ex-military by the professional once-over he’s doing, even more so when he takes your shoe out of your weary hand and tests the bend of its sole with a practiced hand.

“Don’t say it--”

“These are not very good shoes,” he pronounces. With a move as graceful as a ballet dancer, he shifts onto the bench beside you, still examining the shoe. You snag it from his hand and tuck it into your backpack with its mate, pulling out your tennis shoes before zipping back up.

There’s no chance you’ll be able to put them on, but, one thing at a time.

“You’re right. I didn’t expect to be the runner on the ward today, but we were shorthanded.” You wince at your feet, both of which are looking decidedly puffy. Shit, will either pair of shoes fit, at this point? “There’s a ‘best foot forward’ joke I could be making about hoping you’d be here running tonight, but honestly, I’m too wiped out to make it.” You look over as you finish speaking and catch his pleased reaction. It’s understated, but it’s there, enough to make you brave. “I have the day off tomorrow, maybe I can give you a twelve hour rain check? I bet you’re even more handsome in sunlight.”

To your dismay, his face falls and he looks down. You turn your head away, unwilling to see the evidence of just how badly you’d gauged this. He’s very clearly not interested.

“Or not! ‘Not’ is also okay, sorry about that, I--”

The words dissolve on your tongue at the gentle touch of his knuckle on your chin, turning your face back toward his in the time-honored tradition of romantic male leads.

“Please don’t-- Running with you has been-- Believe me, during the day-- I would like to, I just can’t.” Disappointment is etched across his handsome features, but more than that, you can see the way his mind is racing just like yours had just seconds ago. The man looks like he’s desperate to rewind to a moment that doesn’t feel like this.

There’s a remedy to that, and after a day of doing your best to fix everything and everyone around you, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to surge up and touch your lips to his.

You meant to pull back right away, mirroring that thing where a couple knows each other so well that gentle brush is all that’s needed-- but your midnight warrior is still in the middle of the book. His large hand shifts to cup your cheek, holding you still for his head tip where he deepens the kiss and scrambles your brain. It’s impulsive, desperate, and honest. You grab at his clothing, needing to believe this is real, even as the two of you follow kisses with more kisses like you’re saying goodbye in an airport.

“Doesn’t look much like you’re runnin’!” the security guard calls out, his words so distant they almost don’t register at first.

That ends things abruptly, but the two of you don’t move much farther apart than a few inches, his hand still on your face, yours with a handful of his sweatshirt, right over his heart.

“Textbook,” you whisper, flattening your hand out to smooth over his chest. It’s solid muscle under there.

“Oh?” he asks, pulling his hand away swiftly like he’d forgotten how to be a gentleman in his eagerness to touch you. It’s charming as hell.

“This whole operation, it’s right out of the romance novel guidebook,” you praise. “I ought to look for cameras.” A shadow crosses his face, and you suddenly put the pieces together. “Shit, you’re hiding from something, aren’t you? That’s why you freaked out about coming here in the daytime.”

He’s already standing, but instead of stalking away from you, he’s looking around the track, turning in a circle of deep concentration. He’s looking for cameras, but not in a joking way, not as part of a bit.

“The school district would rather spend the money on Frank than cameras, if that’s what you’re looking for,” you murmur, pushing your voice into steadiness out of sheer determination. “The city contributes. It’s been so much safer when everyone who wants a night walk comes here, but there are fewer of us out in the winter months.” The fall chill is actually helping with the pain in your feet, so that's something.

Your mysterious crush is facing you again, apparently satisfied that the two of you aren't being watched by anything more permanent than good old Frank. “I’m sorry,” he says. The words have a horrid finality to them, but you’re focused on his eyebrows. They’re not on board with the rest of his body language. They’re beseeching, rather than resolute, hopeful rather than harsh.

You have one chance to get this right.

“There are some things I love about my coworkers, and let’s be real, a lot of things I don’t-- but do you want to know the thing I like least about working in a hospital?”

Your whole body is practically vibrating with adrenaline, and you realize this is your opportunity to shove on your shoes. As you do that, you refuse to look up at him. The goal is to bring his critical thinking skills back from ‘fight or flight’ mode. Then maybe you can get the two of you on the same page again.

It takes over a minute, but he lets out a long breath and sits down beside you. “Tell me."

“They’re terrible gossips,” you say, looking right at him. He’s not allowed to make the obvious (ruinous, new-relationship-wrecking) conclusion about what you’re saying, not without having to look you in the eye while he does it. “I can’t stand that shit. That’s why they send me on the errands. I’ve got everyone trained to stop talking when I walk by, at this point.”

His relief is visible. “I can respect that.”

“Good.” You set both feet on the ground and decide to test things out by standing. If you’re wobbly, you feel certain he’ll reach out and catch you. “Tomorrow night?”

“Wait,” he says, the picture of confusion. “You’re not-- You think I’m hiding from something and you’re not going to ask about it?” Even in the dim glow of the nearby track light, you can see the clench and release of his jaw.

“For all I know, you’re hiding from your last girlfriend. I know I’d find it hard to give you up, and I’ve known you for what? Two weeks?” Your feet are screaming at you about as loudly as the critical voice in your head, but happiness has made both just distant enough to achieve your goals.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, which you take to be a good sign. “Would that still be ‘textbook?’ This is all new to me.”

All of the cheeky, sarcastic, and cheesy thoughts that cross your mind would ruin the moment, so you go off script. It’s not the best, but it’s not awful, either.

“New is terrible for work shoes, but it’s lovely when it’s you. See you tomorrow night!”

Stay tuned for more stories in the Ro Roll! Would you like more of these two? Let me know 💚

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #fluff #hurt/comfort #captain america x f!reader #captain america x reader #captain america #steve rogers #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #captain america x you

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chocolatespringonion · 6 months ago

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What if Hughie suddenly goes mad?

Hughie was tired of all the violence, death and murders. When he finally couldn't take it anymore and his already fragile mind, broke.

He became disoriented, unable to know where he is, who the people around him are, his mind is melting bit by bit until The Boys doesn't know what to do with him. They pitied the boy as one single thought appeared inside their head, Butcher had finally broken that boy.

Butcher refused to admit it himself of course. But deep down he could feel guilt creeping up his spine and whenever those unpleasant feelings appear he would pump himself full of tempV and went off to go Supe hunting.

The Boys unanimously agreed for Hughie's and their own safety, they will admit the boy into a mental hospital, hoping he would be safe and able to bounce back from whatever he is currently experiencing.

Hughie didn't let himself taken away without a fight, despite his disorientation and hysteria he understood his own friends are trying to send him away. He yelled and cried, saying he was not crazy but his pleas fell into deaf ears as he was dragged away into his new prison cell.

Months went by, The Boys and Annie would usually visit him once a week, but seeing how unresponsive Hughie had became towards them, the visitation became less and less. From once a week to once every 2 weeks, to once a month, to finally Hughie doesn't know if they'll ever come back.

On his rare days of being sober he would understand that his friends did this for his own safety but when those episodes came where he would break down and his brain would turn into a mushy paste, the betrayal would sting like hot molten iron. Hughie dreads the days where his sober state would leave him completely.

6 months later.

Homelander had gotten a schedule from Ashley that he is to catter to the young people by supporting the idea of caring for the mentally ill, something about how young people nowadays care a lot for mental health so Homelander should get on the bandwagon.

The bright idea was Homelander will visit a chosen mental hospital by roulette and he would care, listen and help those who was mentally vulnerable.

The first part of the filming was done, Homelander talking and playing simple games with the people he would assume had a problem with delusions, he talked and shared his tales with the depressed patients and they even managed to stage a rescue of a schizophrenic patient. Homelander was far from pleased with this work but what can he do?

After wrapping up the first day Homelander was allowed to roam around as he please. He stumbled upon an open door and took a glance inside.

Inside was a familiar man dressed the same as the other in a blue gown, sitting on the windowsills as the sun shines on his face making him appear somewhat ethereal. He was looking outside but it seems his mind are elsewhere.

It was Hughie Campbell.

Homelander knew he hadn't seen the Campbell boy in a while, he even asked Butcher in passing one time, the question made the other man's expression turn fierce and almost in a brink of snapping. Homelander was too entertained by his irritation to question again but he now knew the reason for the man's defensive reaction.

Out of curiosity, Homelander stepped into the room. His presence seems to catch the boy's attention and he looked away from the window and now to face Homelander.

The supe expected Hughie to panic and scream or maybe even beg for his life but what the other did was unexpected, he smiled brightly at the supe until his dimples are visible, he was happy?

"Hello, I'm Hughie. It's nice to have a visitor, who are you?"

Speechless, Homelander only stared at Hughie, making the other tilt his head and drop down from the window and walked closer to the blonde supe. Hughie invaded Homelander's personal space and stared closely into the supe's eyes, Homelander could even feel the other's breath with how close their proximity are.

"You- are pretty. I like you." Hughie leaned himself closer and pushed his lips against Homelander's.

The kiss was like no other he had experienced before, it was fleeting, not a hint of fear nor hidden objective, just a simple innocent peck on his lips.

Hughie pulled away and grinned at the supe, proud of his own achievement. "We're married now."

Homelander should've exploded in anger, he should've destroyed Hughie Campbell here and then, leaving nothing of the boy but ashes, he should've leveled this place that witnessed his shame to the ground, but he didn't.

It was the first time he felt such innocence, be felt nothing but the boy who was staring intently at his expression, studying it and when it didn't give him the result he hoped for, his smile faded into sadness.

"You don't like me anymore? I'm sorry. I'm sorry, don't be mad." Hughie began crying and wiping the tears with his bare hands. It couldn't help but pulled the strings of Homelander's heart.

"I'm not mad." No that isn't right, he needs to make sure that what happened earlier was only a coincidence or a mistake. "I won't be mad anymore if you kiss me again."

Hughie sniffed and looked up from the ground into the supe's eyes. "Really? Not angry?"

Homelander nods. But he couldn't help but second guess himself, what the fuck is he doing?

Hughie's face suddenly beamed in happiness as he pulled Homelander into his arms. "Uh-huh. I'll kiss everyday so don't be angry anymore, okay?" He once again captured Homelander's lips into an innocent kiss which this time dispelled the supe's doubts.

He-liked it?

Hughie kept kissing Homelander in the cheek afterwards while the supe was dumbfounded in place. A nearby nurse saw this and panicked, "Sir! Don't do that!"

Homelander just stood there as the nurse brought backup to restrain Hughie and calm him down. Homelander who was watching Hughie crying in helplessness calling out, "Wife! Wife! I want to be with my wife!"

Homelander questions himself, Is that supposed to be him?

When Hughie finally sleeps did the nurse apologized multiple times for the inconvenience. Homelander dismissed her saying it wasn't a big deal at all, and how he was thankful these people could have someone as capable as her caring for them. Which made her smile and leave the room as Homelander's new fan.

Homelander stared at the sleeping Hughie, now so peaceful and different from his manic behavior earlier. He is used to see fear and nervousness from the human, so this is how he is when he's now afraid?

It was a new feeling for Homelander. No fear, no expectations, no ulterior motives, just Homelander being himself had made the boy's previous melancholic face bloom into one of joy.

Homelander didn't realise it himself but his previously wrinkled and battered heart is now moved by the sleeping man.

Maybe he'll try to prolong his job here for a bit.

****

Hughie woke up late at night and saw the leather holding him down on the bed. So he probably did something and the nurse had to tie him down to give him his medicine. He sigh, as he tries to recall the day's events, it's hard for him to try and remember what happened during one of his episodes, but this time he vaguely remember kissing someone and calling them wife, he couldn't remember who the other was, only that empty blue eyes which was beginning to shimmer in an unspoken emotion.

Shit. No wonder he was now tied up in bed.

Hopefully his victim didn't hate him too much and forgives him for the offense. He doubts they'll be meeting again, no one wants to get attacked by a madman a second time.

***

How is he going to make Hughie kiss him again?

Was the thought belonging to the one and only Homelander as he was standing in front of Hughie's door again the very next day. It didn't take anything at all in fact. When Homelander opened and Hughie saw him, the other jumped out of his bed and immediately latched himself to the supe. Homelander quickly closed the door behind him to let them not be disturbed.

Hughie started hugging the blonde and put his chin on the blonde's head, "Wife, you came back. I'm so happy."

"I'm not—" Wait if he said he is not his wife, would the other cry again? "—going to leave you. Why would you think that?"

"I'm sorry. I was insensitive. Of course wife is the best. Wife is the kindest and prettiest." Hughie began innocently kissing Homelander's cheek again.

Since when does he have such Saint like patience? But it seems whenever it's Hughie, his temper wouldn't flare.

"Wife, do you want a kiss?" Hughie stared down innocently at Homelander.

It was what he was after since the beginning after all. "Sure."

The human leaned down and once again their lips met.

Without even knowing it, Homelander had became addicted to the madman called Hughie Campbell who is clearly not in his right mind. But he didn't care. For the first time in his life he felt free of the darkness of the human heart and enjoyed the pure feelings only a madman is capable of giving.

He hoped, Hughie will never regain his sanity. Maybe he should steal the boy away from here and let him stay in his condo indefinitely to ensure he'll stay Homelander's and will stay as he is.

***

It was sunset when Hughie had finally gained his sanity back. Once again he only remembered bits of pieces of his episodes but he remembered he had attacked someone with kisses again.

Since when had he become a kiss maniac?

Despite not remembering the other's identity he knows it must be the same person. He could remember the sensation of the kiss today and different from yesterday, he could feel the other reciprocate his advances. How those previously dull blue eyes brighten as it laid eyes on Hughie, and how it became misty when they kissed.

His heart pounds when he remembers the feeling.

"God. This is so fucked up." But he enjoyed it. Unlike when he kissed Robin or Annie, this mysterious person didn't feel like the usual confident women he's been with. This person was more timid in the beginning and became needy in the end, as if they needed—no CRAVED Hughie so bad the black hole inside the other is trying to swallow Hughie whole.

And Hughie liked it.

"Christ. I'm so fucked up."

_____________________________

A/n: I wrote this while still haven't watched season 4 of The Boys and as I'm having a huge important thing tomorrow. I wrote this instead of preparing.....

This is Top!Hughie x Bottom!Homelander for me. Hughie is crazy and Homelander is crazy, when you add minus with minus it became positive so naturally this would be sane and normal, right? Right...?

#homelander x hughie #homelander/hughie #hughie x homelander #hughie/homelander #the boys #hughielander #hughlander

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gabessquishytum · 9 months ago

Note

CEO Dream is looking to mess with his board of directors (they’re all cronies of his parents, resentful of his being nepo’ed into the position despite his actual qualifications, and constantly looking to needle or undermine him), so he decides to hire his preferred sex worker Hob as his PA in order to fuck him all over the office all the time.

They don’t really hide that Hob is there for sex, given that the whole point is to piss the board off with it; during meetings Dream’s hand is usually up Hob’s skirt, or sometimes he’ll just pull Hob to sit in his lap. Directors will have scheduled one-on-one meetings in Dream’s office, only to walk in and see Hob and Dream who had clearly just finished having sex. Even finding Dream alone in his office sitting at his desk isn’t a safe bet, as there’s a decent chance that Hob is under the desk sucking Dream off.

Dream is having a great time, both the sex and the chance to be a menace to his board is incredibly stress-relieving. But also Dream has inadvertently given himself an opportunity to get to know Hob better; before they only met up in order to have sex, and despite the fact that they are having even more sex now, there’s still time left over to learn about Hob as a person, which is beginning to do funny things to Dream’s heart.

Not to mention, as time goes on, both of them are startled to discover that Hob is…actually really good at the PA part of the job. Like extremely competent kind of good. Not only willing but eager to even take some of the workload from Dream, and clearly thriving in his new position.

(Competent is a very sexy look on Hob, of course, which encourages Dream to come on to him at the office even more)

The day Hob presents substantial and comprehensive proof of corporate wrongdoing from the most annoying board member, leading to their termination, Dream very nearly proposes on the spot.

-🪽anon

AKAJDJF this is such a great au, with SUCH great fic potential.

Hob never told Dream this (because they never really talked a lot), but he actually started doing his BA in business and even nearly graduated, but unfortunately had to drop out because money was so tight - that's when the sexwork started. So Hob is far from clueless about what he's doing - he's extremely knowledgeable and competent. He makes reforms in the office that make work much more efficient. He seems to notice everything that happens, even the tiny things. He could easily put Dream out of a job. Although of course, he'd never want to.

He very much enjoys having unrestricted sex with Dream. It's so much better than only seeing him a few times each month. Hob doesn't have to bother with other clients because Dream is keeping him very much afloat financially. His new work outfits are sooo cute and fun. Dream even gets him lunch every day... and yes, Hob is maybe developing feelings in that particular direction. But hes too afraid to investigate his heart any further. Falling in love with a client is a bad idea, that's just good business sense.

Getting fucked is enough. Particularly because Dream makes it so fucking good. It seems to get better every day. Hob can't even smell Dream’s cologne without getting hard, and he can't pass the main boardroom without flushing pink. Knowing exactly how many orgasms he had while spread-eagled on the table and speared open on Dream’s tongue....

Alas Dream does not propose when Hob shyly reveals the outcome of his investigation into the board member. He does, however... offer Hob a seat on the board. And it's not just a seat on Dream’s lap this time.

The scandal is uproarious. Dream put a common whore on the board of directors! Didn't vote him in or anything! Too bad Hob has a dossier on each of the other board members and plenty of corporate secrets to spill about them. Looks like they'll have to accept his presence.

Even when he spends half of the meeting under the table. He can still take notes from there just fine, don't worry!

#🪽anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw public sex

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novelconcepts · 1 year ago

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Another year, another absurd amount of books read (296, because if I wasn't reading or writing this year, my brain was on fire). I was asked again for my top books of the year, so here we go: 2023's top 10, in no particular order.

This was the first book I read of the year--literally, vacated the hangout with my wife and sibling-in-laws to sit on their couch upstairs and eat through it. Do you love The Fall of the House of Usher, but wish for a nonbinary protagonist and a lot more mushrooms? This is the book for you! (T. Kingfisher is fucking rad, I made a concerted effort to only list ONE of her books on here, but honorable mention goes to The Twisted Ones for fucking me upppp.)

A gay, post-apocolyptic Pinocchio retelling involving copious robots, found family elements, and a cool-ass treehouse. Klune always hits for me with his unrepentant queer family dynamics and sense of humor. Honorable mention to the first two in the Green Creek series (although that's got a lot more...adult elements in among the werewolves, you've been warned).

I thiiiink I found this through The Homo Schedule podcast (PSA: if you missed out on Jasmin Savoy Brown and Liv Hewson doing a podcast together, now you know better), and it wrecked my shit. Tons of trigger warnings, as this is a memoir about abuse within a queer relationship, but it's so beautifully written. I personally suggest listening to the audiobook first, then standing anxiously behind someone at a book warehouse sale, hoping they'll set down the only paperback copy so you can swipe it.

A fantastical-historical reimagining in which the KKK is filled with literal monsters, and Black women are resistance fighters armed to take them out. Visceral and intense, and truly an excellent horror story.

Just. Such a soft time travel story about a daughter and her father and cherishing the time you get with loved ones. I was thoroughly unprepared for how lovely I found this one. It's very kind.

Spooky house, take-no-shit redhead, protective sibling elements, bisexual recluse with a sword who really just needs a nap. I haven't found a Harrow book yet I haven't slapped five stars on. She's so good at character and atmosphere, and I'm always surprised at how fast her stories race by.

The whole Daevabad trilogy (of which this is the first book) is just magical. A girl from the mortal world finds herself embroiled with the centuries-long prejudices and wars of djinn in a fantastical city. It's one of the rare stories of its kind that does have a love triangle, but doesn't feel like a love triangle; it's far less interested in the insufferable "who gets picked" than it is in the actual horrors these people are both perpetrating and coping with. It's an intoxicating ride.

Fuck You, TERFS: the book. Given that fact, there's obviously quite a lot of transphobia to deal with, but it's very clear that those people are wrong, and it's a super-engaging (and super-oh-god-what-comes-next) witchy time populated with queer, protective, interesting characters I'm excited to see again in the follow-up.

Have you ever wanted a haunted house story with visceral imagery and a rather lovely twist? Gailey has you covered. As much as I enjoyed The Echo Wife, I think I actually loved this one more, and it makes me so excited to see what else they've got up their sleeve.

One of my final reads for the year, when I was just churning through hardcovers at the speed of sound. I love this book. I recognize it won't be for everyone, but it takes so much of what I love about IT (one of my all-time favorite books, despite its flaws) and twists it through the lens of an author who escaped the Mormon church. It's horrific, it's fantastically abstract in places, it explores childhood and memory, imagination and abuse, and almost every character is queer. It's a great "I simply cannot sleep until I've finished" read.

#long post #book recs #t kingfisher #tj klune #carmen maria machado #p djeli clark #emma straub #alix e harrow #s.a. chakraborty #juno dawson #sarah gailey #kiersten white #plenty of others could go on this list as well but i figured i'd keep it to ten this time around #still can't believe i read just shy of 300 books in a year #bonus shoutout to the animorphs series all of which is out on audiobook now (the main books anyway)#and which honestly really do hold up well

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leonawriter · 7 months ago

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While reading the chapter, it's easy to go with the flow and see this as Conan urging the disabled lady to be moved swiftly to safety, but knowing that the one holding onto the wheelchair there is actually Kid, and he's asked for a favour.

It then becomes clear that the "Hurry!" is less "get out of the fire!" and more "We're on a tight schedule, move it or someone's gonna die!"

This is further hinted at when neither the old lady nor her assistant are seen near the front of the car some panels on:

I also went in knowing (remembering) that Kid would turn out to have been disguised as Shiho this time, but for some reason thought that Shinichi had (somehow) contacted the thief before entering the train.

He, as shown above, didn't.

I can only imagine the urgency he felt, because the plan is... delicate, let's say. Remove one piece from the board on their side, and everything falls apart. There's already too many wild cards. Shinichi HAS to have Kid on board, or they lose.

He likely knew way in advance by looking things up about the train, and Jirokichi, that Kid would be targeting that location, at that time. That they'd cross paths.

He knew that he had to figure out which passenger was Kid, hoping that he hadn't miscalculated, and convince him to play along with something that - even from the start, with how he says "shake off the bad guys going after her" - is dangerous.

Here he is as they're disembarking, talking on the phone to Kaito, likely in a way that's specifically easy to mis-hear as a normal conversation.

Shinichi may have known for a fact that things would become that dire, but at the same time - he quite possibly didn't know how many twists there'd be. He did know, at least, that his mother would be holding up Vermouth, which would take one card out of play and ensure Kid couldn't be tag-teamed by both Vermouth and Bourbon.

I'd even go as far as to suggest that the Shiho disguise was created by Yukiko, and given to him by Conan, as it's highly unlikely that he'd have been able to create it in that short frame of time.

He even warns Kaito here - "They'll probably try to corner her in the storage, where they've got some explosives, so be careful."

So like... as much as I've seen (and probably, at the time, felt myself) that it's an uneven debt... I'd go as far as to say this case emphasises how much Shinichi TRUSTS Kaitou Kid, and also how much he believes in Kid's abilities!

For one thing, Kaito now knows enough about not just Shinichi (he mentioned his mother at the previous heist) but also Haibara:

Do note that she's telling him exactly what to say here, via an ear piece. We don't see a voice changer on the phone she's implied to use earlier on, so it's equally likely he heard Shiho's voice (possible, since he'd need a frame of reference) or Haibara's voice (if he knows she's the child form of the lady he's impersonating, he'd simply age that voice up).

As for Shinichi trusting in Kaitou Kid's abilities?

Well, for that we just have to look back on the past several heists!

Especially the one for the Kirin's Horn, I'd say, since...

Kaito himself was the one to brag about how "I've shown that... nothing's impossible for this Kaitou Kid!" - something that is quickly followed up by Conan sticking an identifier to Kid's back and Kid STILL not being caught.

So Kaito proved that he is capable of disguising as literally anyone, no matter how unlikely or how little he has to go by, and that he's capable of not being caught even with a handicap.

No wonder Shinichi was desperate to have Kaito's help, as he trusted that someone like this, who had a sense of justice (see: Magic Lovers Murder Case, the Samizu Mansion Murder Case, the Four Masterpieces, Iron Tanuki, and Ryoma's gunbelt) would listen and help.

#dcmk stuff #leona rereads dcmk #kaitou kid #somehow this became an essay on how this was not Shinichi taking advantage #so much as being desperate for help

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astro-pioneer · 2 years ago

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crossfire!

the virus was meant for the leader. why do you have it? 『dazai, kunikida, chuuya, fyodor』 season 3 spoilers!

dazai!

came as a surprise to everyone in the ada

it wasn't unusual for members to be in the face of danger

but for something as specific as this to harm you of all members? strange

it was obviously planned for someone else and yet you were attacked

dazai was not having a good time

it got even worse when he was also hospitalized

Nervousness wasn't a friend of Dazai's; it could be better categorized as a stranger. He never had a reason to be nervous before. You never made him nervous before. But now, not able to protect you in your moment of vulnerability, the horrendous emotion creeped into his mind without warning.

"Man, this sucks," he groaned, head thrown back. He was waiting for his phone to ring with a call from Atsushi. Oh, how he missed getting calls from you after you finished a task outside the office. For now until they take down the virus ability user, he'll have to deal with staring at the candid picture that he set his background.

kunikida!

you knew blood in alleyways was a common occurrence

you also knew to not get involved

but when it's bordering the sidewalk? crazy

he got the call from the hospital in the middle of the day and was like O:

the mafia doesn't know who you are but their connections run deep

he's just hoping everything will be solved before you're in danger

His schedule did not have a 'call from the hospital regarding s/o' event jotted down. It was stressful as he knew that not seeing you would keep you safe, especially when news of Mori also getting the virus reached the detective agency. Him suddenly going to the hospital would immediately put the mafia's sights on every patient there.

For now, he'd need to distract himself with planning on how to get rid of the virus. Both for the safety of Yokohama and the survival of you. All the news he has related to you comes from Haruno; he hopes they'll fix everything before the timer on his watch goes off.

chuuya!

man is willing to protect your unconscious body with his LIFE

anyone who'd willingly think he'd allow his enemy to take the only person he actually likes in the mafia is dumb

he was so paranoid an ada member would come after you that he skipped on going to the hospital

refused to leave your side even when he's needed

not even dazai would risk getting into a fight with him during this time

he promised to help in times of need, anyway

Chuuya kept on ignoring his ringing phone, sharp eyes watching the entire room from your bedside. He already informed Mori that he refused to leave your side. Hell will appear on earth if anything happens to you while he has the power to prevent that. The ringtone was different than the other contacts he had, but not yours.

The caller was persistent. "What?" Chuuya didn't want to be professional or polite with whoever was calling, since it definitely wasn't any of the mafia members. His hand tightened around the body of his phone, the words the person on the other side of the phone was speaking pissing him off. "Ridiculous," he muttered, but loosened his stance. You'll be better soon, guaranteed.

fyodor!

would kill the virus ability user immediately

you and your ability were far more important than this unneeded piece in his plan

sure, the virus ability was also good, but yours was amazing

if it took a while for his subordinates to end him, he'd pretend as if nothing was wrong

there's also the ada and mafia going after the guy as well, and he knows they would not allow their leaders to die

you'll be in tip-top shape to continue in assisting him in his plans in no time

The Russian calmly hummed, the tea he was served brewed just perfectly. His phone was in front of him, three digital monitors playing. The top one showed your vitals, the pulse lowered than before his plan took action. The middle one was his subordinate. His heartbeat was normal and he was seemingly confident. Strange.

Ivan's was at the bottom, erratic. He was panicking, obviously losing. It was a shame the virus ability user wouldn't die at the hands of one of his minions. His interest grew when the middle one changed to anxious. He'll be able to move onto the next step in his plan. Simply perfect.

#✎ expedition #∅*｡ saturn #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #kunikida x reader #chuuya x reader #fyodor x reader

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des2dream · 2 months ago

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Allow Me To Teach You Something!🌹✍

Reader X Andrew Marston story written by DesDaydream

It was the first week of a new semester and you've finally grown accustomed to the university environment. You recently moved out of your parent's house and found a place not too far from campus grounds. It took a lot of planning, a lot of spending, and a lot of time to adjust, but you feel like you can be able to manage now. Before you left for your studies, you promised your loved ones that you would do your best. You promised that you would have a good experience. You promised that you wouldn't let them down. You even made a promise to yourself that you would graduate no matter what. You can survive a couple years at university....away from your old home....in a new place....full of so many people young and old. You weren't used to this, but you knew that you had people who are willing and able to help you. You just know that you can do this! You meet up with your friend at one of the lounges in The Student Center for lunch and listen to them ramble about what happened yesterday.

"So this guy walks up to me and asks if I want to go to his party this weekend to "welcome the new students", but I know he's just using that as an excuse to lure people into his bedroom or something. I tell him 'no' and he has the nerve to say, 'Whatever, ugly! You'll be sorry when you're missing out' and I just.....No! I won't be missing out! I heard your wifi sucks anyway!"

You listen to every word they say, but you're more focused on your schedule this semester. You were given a fair amount of classes and nothing seems out of place. You want to make sure you know exactly what time your classes start so you don't make a bad first impression by being late.

"It is nice to have you with me. Things were starting to get a little boring around here. There's so much I want to show you. You're gonna love it! I've made a few friends here and they've been asking about you constantly!"

You nod in response as you continue to gaze at your schedule. Your friend notices the lack of eye-contact, but continues to speak.

"There's some cool places near campus that we can check out. The park? A few cafe's? We might be able to crash at my friends' dormitory once in a while if they'll let us. There's also this museum I've been hearing great reviews about! That sounds fun, right?"

You nod once more, but your attention is still focused on the list of classes you were given. Your friend now getting annoyed, sits up and swipes the schedule out of your hands in the blink of an eye.

"Hey! Earth to human being, are you in there? Are you feeling nervous? You've only got a few classes this semester and the first week is basically introductions. All you have to do is sit there and listen."

You apologize to your friend before admitting that you do feel a little nervous about the new semester and being so far from home. You're in unfamiliar territory and you want to make a good first impression on your professors and the other students. Your friend takes a moment to sympathize with you as they recall their first semester. They put a hand on your shoulder and reassure you that everything will be okay.

"You're smart! You've made it this far so what's stopping you now?"

Before you could respond, you and your friend are met with the president of the art club who is also good friends with your friend. There were plenty of clubs on campus, yet you weren't sure if you were going to join any of them. Your friend was well acquainted with different kinds of arts so it's no surprise that they'd be a part of the art club. You heard that they often had snacks on standby which was always a plus.

"Hey!" said The Art Club President as she took a seat next to you and your friend.

"How are we doing? Are we doing okay?"

She looked directly at you before asking,

"How has university been treating you so far?"

You're not sure how to say, but luckily your friend has got you covered.

"They're a little nervous, but I'm here to tell them that everything is gonna be alright and they're being a worry wart! You've been here for a while. Tell them how good campus has been to you!"

"Trust me, you're going to be fine. It takes time to get used to everything, but soon you'll have it all sorted out. You can call me if you ever feel lost," said The Art Club President.

"There's also plenty of professors and staff who can help you too. We even got some new faces recently. I'm not gonna lie, they look kinda cute. We have this T.A., Mr. Pearce who is very kind. A little timid, but very sweet and helpful. We have a wonderful dean. All the professors are cool. Hey, what does your schedule look like? I might recognize some names."

Your friend hands over your schedule for The Art Club President to examine it. She nods as she examines the professors you were assigned to, but she stops for a moment after reading the last name. She rubs her eyes and take a minute to look again. Her face went from cheery to concerned and that only made you tense up. Your friend is confused by this sudden reaction.

"Um, what's wrong?" they asked.

"Is there a problem?"

The Art Club President tries to muster up a smile, but you can still see the concern in their eyes. They burst out a fake laugh as they go to pat your back.

"No! I wouldn't say there's a problem! Everything's gonna be fine, kiddo! All these professors are great for you!"

"You don't sound so convinced," said your friend.

"Cut the bullshit and tell us what's up!"

The Art Club President lets out a defeated sigh.

"Okay, fine! You've been assigned a literature professor, correct?" she asks you to which you respond with a nod.

"Right......well......your professor.....he's.....well......"

Your friend swipes the schedule out of her hands and reads through it. Not even a minute later do they groan before collapsing into their seat.

"Ohmygoddamnit!" they groaned.

You're a little uneasy by this reaction and you ask what's going on. The Art Club President takes a deep breath before giving you an expanation.

"The university recently had a new literature professor since last semester, I believe. His name is Professor Marston. He's actually very smart to have become a professor at a young age. He seems to know what he's doing. It's just....."

"HE'S A BUZZKILL!!!" your friend yells.

"Some of my friends have taken his classes and they have their experiences. He's strict, he's incredibly serious, he's intimidating, and he's a buzzkill! He actually scolded one of my friends for being a couple minutes late like.....it's not that deep, sir!"

"Professor Marston just wants to ensure that the students can be able to take in as much information as possible. He means well, but....he's....um.....I promise he's not a monster or anything." said The Art Club President.

Great. Just great. Your first semester and you've already got a difficult professor coming your way. Just as you were getting ready for your future. Your breathing starts to get heavy. Your heart rate feels like it's pacing like the speed of sound. Beads of sweat are starting to form atop our forehead. You need to get out of there! You need to find a restroom or somewhere quiet! You excuse yourself from your friend's table and rush out. Unfortunately, you're not sure where some of the bathrooms are. You had a map of the campus, but now you've got tears in your eyes and your vision is blurry. Your eyes are looking down at your shoes, but you don't care. You need to run! You need to hide! You need to find somewhere to take a breather! You need to calm down!

Suddenly, you feel something collide into you before hitting the ground. You look to see your bag next to a puddle of someone's drink and spilled papers on the ground. You look up to see two eyes staring down at you in shock and disapproval. Today just wasn't your day! You frantically apologize as you gather up all the papers trying not to cry. You try to explain yourself, but you can't put it into complete sentences. Your practically shaking! A hand reaches down to you waiting for you to take it. Once you do, you feel a warm sensation travel through your body. You look up to see those same disapproving eyes you were scared of turn soft and compassionate. Your eyes travel to see beautiful locks of brown (or dirty blonde) hair and two perfect windows that protected those compassionate eyes. Those eyes, hair, and "two perfect windows" belonged to a tall man in professional clothing while holding a suitcase. His features were too captivating for you to look away. Your heart rate lowers and you're no longer shaking.

"Are you alright?" you hear a voice that sounded smooth like honey but slightly tough as nails.

You nod in response before apologizing again.

"Allow me to teach you something," said the man who owned such a distinct voice as he picked up your bag.

"Eyes are meant for observing. I would advise you to look up where you're going. Check for your surroundings, understand?"

You nod again before apologizing one more time and walk away in an opposite direction. You look back to see someone walk up to the man and look down at the mess on the floor you caused.

"Marston, what happened? Is everything alright?" they asked.

"Yes. I had a run-in with someone. Likely one of the students. It was an accident so it's nothing to fret over."

Did you hear that right? Marston? As in.....Professor Marston?! The person your friend just trash-talked a moment ago? The person who was said to be strict and intimidating? Sure, you felt a little scared at first, but that couldn't be him! Could it? You touch your hand and the thought of his touching yours gives your body another wave of sensational warmth. You feel your heart pounding and your face feels hot. This was going to be your new professor? Well......things just got interesting.

End Notes: Nothing like a "meet-cute backstory" to make things interesting, right? People like a "meet-cute" story, right? This was HARD! I don't usually write Fanfiction. I'm more used to writing my own creations, but I wanted to give it a shot. People seem to enjoy this type of art so why not give it a try? Also, this timeline is supposed to be Listener's first week and semester while Andrew is currently in his first year of being a professor and he's spent more time in university than Listener (if that timeline makes sense). Oh my gosh! I hope this turned out good! I'm a little embarrassed, but I hope you enjoyed it! That's it! Have a nice day! Bye now!

#zsakuva #sakuverse #andrew marston #andrew x reader #crumpets #creative writing

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genericpuff · 9 months ago

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Big steps are scary, but not moving forward is scarier u.u

So I've been sitting on this post for a little while now, I had planned to post it a few days ago but then I crashed for a nap and woke up to the news of LO ending so wound up using that as another excuse LOL

The last few months have been, to put it lightly, brutal. It's not that anything has happened, it's more like nothing is happening - the usual slow season in tattooing has been especially long, with especially less clients coming through the door, so while it's given me loads of free time to prepare for my conventions and work on other projects, it also means I'm not making as much as I'd usually make. And what I usually make is typically what supports everything I do here.

This has basically been me for the last half a year:

(riding it out, just riiiding it out, whoof)

I'm very fortunate to have a job that satisfies my dream of making a living off art, controlling my own schedule, and making money doing it to boot - but the caveat to it all is that it's a luxury service that relies on the economy around me doing well, and the economy around me right now is very much NOT doing well. I'm also very fortunate that my savings are capable of supporting me, but that's all they are, savings - if I'm not making anything, they'll burn up eventually. I'm not sure how physically capable I would be of going back into retail / food service, and it's honestly just not something I want to do after coming this far as a tattoo artist.

I've also learned how valuable and necessary collaboration is during projects like these. Not just to supplement the quality of the work itself, but to supplement the working experience as a whole. Working with an assistant has been an eye-opening experience in that regard.

When I set out to make this account, it was for the purpose of LO shitposting, edits, essays, and nothing much more than that. I wanted to keep it separate for the sake of my mental health and for the sake of my separate audiences, because when I started here, it just... wasn't a popular opinion in the slightest to have opinions about LO and comics like it outside of the positive norm. I had a lot of fear for a long time built up in my head over it, but as time has gone on, I've fortunately had mostly positive experiences and even when they aren't positive... I've proven to myself that I'm capable of moving forward through it all with my head held high and that these scary experiences aren't as scary as they tend to seem in my head. That's really just the funny thing about fear over any sort of 'risky' endeavor.

That said, I've also branched out a lot more from this blog's original purpose. I've talked about the process of making webcomics, Webtoons as a platform, offered alternatives to creators seeking refuge from the more corporate platforms, given out writing and art advice, discussed topics concerning Greek myth, shared my own original works, and basically just naturally progressed into talking about and doing other things because LO will end eventually and I don't want to restrict myself to talking about the same comic forever LOL

This is a crossroads that I've been at for a few months now. And I know nothing will change unless I take a step forward. It might wind up not being in the right direction in the end, but it's forward, and that's all that really matters to me, because staying in the same place forever isn't good for anyone.

So, I guess I'm gonna stop yapping and just show y'all what I've been working on! I brought this up in a Twitch stream the other day and people in the chat were all very supportive and optimistic, so I'm hoping those of you who follow me here will be too ╭( ･ㅂ･)و (and if not, well, you can kick my ass in my inbox later LOL)

I've applied for my genericpuff account on Twitch to become an Affiliate channel and am just waiting on the approval process. Assuming everything goes through well enough, y'all will be able to subscribe to my channel or support it with bits. If I do get approved I'll be doing a rehaul of the channel design and offering some fun lil' goodies for the chat, and I'll be trying to stream at least twice a week.

So please go follow my Twitch account if you haven't yet! It's the best way to get early sneak peeks of Rekindled, as I'm usually working on new episodes, but we're usually also chatting about LO, webtoons related stuff, and other fun topics ٩(｡•ω•｡)و

twitch_live

But now for the biggest new addition - I've started a Patreon account specifically for my genericpuff stuff ! Normally I would redirect anyone who asked to my main Patreon, but it's not as active nowadays simply due to my original projects being on hiatus. And it's not exactly the best space to share any bonus goodies related to my genericpuff account.

That said, I want to make it clear that I will still be putting limitations on what I offer on this page. Anything related to early access sneak peeks will still be free for all. This will be a glorified tip jar first and foremost, most of what I will be offering as bonus goodies and incentives will be stuff like time lapses of pages, art tutorials, original character designs, critique requests, early access adoptables, deleted scenes, etc.

Basically it'll be stuff that I'm already making (or want to make) but will be exclusive to patrons that won't be tied exclusively to the reading experience of Rekindled. The comic will always be free to read, not just because of the legal stipulations of it being a fan project, but because I want it to be.

Alternatively, if you want to access the stuff I have planned for my original work that I will be posting as early access to my Patreon once it rolls out, you can support that Patreon here!

From the bottom of my heart, thank you all so much for supporting what I do here, in all of its niche craziness. Building this little community over the past year has been life-changing, and I don't say that lightly. I've worked very hard to maintain what I'm doing here, and I'm going to continue doing so - it's a privilege to write and draw for you all week after week, and I appreciate any and all support you can give so I can keep managing what I do.

And if you can't, that's okay! The best way you can support my work is to read it, share it, and engage with it! Remember that reblogs will always be more beneficial than likes, and please don't ever be afraid to pop in to our streams or into our Discord to say hello! It would be a joy to have you ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

Thank you all so much. This has been a big barrier to overcome on a mental level, my anxiety is through the ROOF right now, but I'm so grateful and glad I have such a wonderful circle of readers, community members, and friends who have offered their reassurance through this slow season and process of seeking support. Whether or not this is a step in the right direction, it's at least forward <3 And whatever comes of it, we'll see. But I'll be riding it out all the same ~

#lore rekindled #lore rekindled announcement #lore rekindled comic #ama #ask me anything #anon ama #anon ask me anything #announcement post #patreon #twitch

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poppadom0912 · 2 years ago

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Med Students

Characters: Jay Halstead x Reader, Will Halstead

Warnings: Brief mentions of surgery, gossiping/backbiting, scary attendings

Summary: Stupid students don't gossip quiet enough.

A/N: This isn't exactly what I planned. Not too sure if I like it but it is what it is I guess. I'm posting this in commemoration of the last day of Christmas break. I'm very much not looking forward to getting back to normal life.

*****

Strolling into the moderately quiet ED, Jay was pleasantly surprised at the volume and the lack of people sitting in the waiting room. Spying Will behind a computer doing he's not too sure what, he walked up to him, nudging him with his elbow.

"Hey, you know where Y/N is?" Jay asked, leaning his back against the desk as his eyes inspected the ED.

"Hey Will, how are you brother? How's your day? How's work? You good?" Will sarcastically replied, changing his tone as he imitated Jay. "It's good to see you too Jay."

"What's up Will?" Jay rolled his eyes, caving into his older brothers 'wants and needs'. He was on a schedule and it needed to be followed because if he wasn't back at work in an hour, Voight would probably have his head.

"Mrs Halstead is currently in surgery, she might be a minute but you shoulda seen the guy." Will started gushing, lowkey geeking out on the patient that was brought in. "He was pushed onto the road, had like threes cars max run over him and he somehow is still alive and breathing. Her and Connor have been in their for two hours now, who knows when they'll finish."

"Thanks man." Jay said, clapping Will on the shoulder but either brother made indication that they were moving, Will was doing his patients charts and Jay had nowhere else to be for the next hour.

"I've heard they're called the 'Amok'."

"But we're doctors?"

"I know right, that's what I said!"

"Omg, how could they let a dude like that teach a bunch of students?"

"I knew I should've gone to Lakeshore."

Jay rose his brow in suspicion and curiosity. Looking over at the small group of young adults, standing not too far from where the brothers stood since they could clearly make out their whispers. It was clear that were out of their league.

"And who are they?" Jay asked, crossing his arms, not realising that his action made his badge and gun stand out more than they already were.

Will looked up from the computer, following Jay's line of sight before shaking his head, huffing with some sort of smile. "It's that time of year again, we get sent a bunch of students and Y/N decided that she'd give them a try instead of Ethan. Something about doing it before he got here and missing teaching."

"Huh." Jay said to himself, not recalling you telling him anything about this. If you'd been this excited about teaching, he was sure you'd be gushing about it to him several times over most meals you shared.

"Maybe he's hot."

"Or he's old and a creep."

"What if he's a pedo?!"

"Then he'd be fired Janet. Have you seen Ms Goodwin, cause she's scary."

"What if the 'Amok' is a woman?"

...

"Maybe she's hot."

"Or she's really nice and totally not strict."

"We'll have this year in the bag, easy."

"What if she'd like a young doctor? Look around us and there's plenty of young docs."

"Are you trying to get into her pants? Ew dude!"

"Heck yeah man!"

Now, Jay was ticked. These kids were speculating and it totally would've been fine if they weren't making such comments, especially about his wife. Will also caught on, rolling his eyes, sharing Jay's frustration.

While the students were surveying the ED as they gossiped, they lay eyes on Jay and before any comment could be made on his gorgeous appearance, they caught sight of his gun and badge sitting on his belt.

"Shit, what's a fed doing here?"

"He's hot."

"Him next to doctor Halstead, my ovaries."

"Shh, you're so loud!"

"Anyways, back to the sexy doctor we were talking bout..."

Jay scoffed, more than ready to go up to the kids so he could give them a piece of his mind. Normally, he would've let such petty things get under his skin but these students caught him on the wrong day.

Before Jay could even take a step towards the huddled group, from the corner of his eyes he found the only woman that he loved more than life itself.

You were back in your maroon scrubs, your surgical cap still on your head since you just came back from giving the wife the good news. With the brightest smile on your face, so bright that it could brighten up the darkest of rooms.

The students were obviously doing worse at whispering then they thought. At the same time, you found Jay and the med students that would be shadowing you for the next year.

At the sight of your husband, your smile only got bigger, almost chuckling at your handsome man who looked so delicious but even with most the tension gone from his body, you noticed his crossed arms. Your brother-in-law, who stood besides Jay, wasn't looking in your direction but instead, was glaring at the young adults.

Following his line of sight, you beamed at the students, your excitement causing your smile to widen even further than it already was. Before you could introduce yourself, only taking a few steps towards them, you caught them mid through their conversation.

"50 she'll flirt back."

"You're on."

"Don't be such pigs. The name 'Amok' sounds pretty masculine to me."

"Either way, they're going to kill us."

"That surgeon is hot."

Your smile fell faster than a pulse would if burst a vessel. It seemed that by doing so, you caught the attention of nearly the entire ED, everyone somehow sensing the sudden drop in your mood; the air must've shifted or something.

"And she's staring right at us."

"Oh shit."

"That's it, we're fucked."

"Oh my Gosh, it's her."

"It's been great knowing you guys."

"No it hasn't."

Raising your brows, you inspected the group of students heavily, finding it funny how they shrunk under your scrutinising eyes. It was somewhat entertaining watching them squirm but you'd have a better 'punishment' for them later down the line for their gossiping.

"I want you guys to stick by Maggie's hip. She wants something done, it gets done beyond outstanding standards. I don't care if she wants you getting coffee, you do it. Understood?" You said sternly, leaving no room for any objections.

In sync, they all nodded their heads, instantly agreeing with you even if they weren't happy with their given roles for their first day on the job.

With a smirk, you watched them scurry away towards the charge nurse who was waiting for them. A knowing look in her eyes, a hand on her hip as she smiled and winked at you from afar. You'd find yourself listening to her retell their day at Molly's tonight.

With the students out of your sight, you spun around and your face lit up at the sight of your husband. Despite the dark colours he wore in comparison to your brother-in-law, you noticed and ran to him first.

"Husband!" You wrapped your arms around him tightly, sighing in content when he enveloped you in his, his cologne drowning your senses. You briefly heard Will say something along the lines of no one cared about him before he left you two alone, something about he knew how single he was without it being shoved in his face.

"Wife." Jay kissed your temple, tightening his arms around you. He would proudly say it any day that he was proud of you and found it amusing to watch you boss around the younger doctors.

"How long have you been waiting?" You asked, pulling away from him but not too far so he could still have his arms around you. Hopefully he hadn't been waiting too long and you could still have lunch together before it got too late.

"Long enough to hate those kids guts." Jay pouted slightly, squinting his eyes almost threateningly in remembrance of what was said about you. "Was this close to telling them your the wife of a detective so they'd back off."

"My hero." You pretended to swoon, cheekily smiling at his faux hurt expression. "What would I do without you."

"Forget to eat your lunch, that's what." Jay said, indirectly reminding you that lunch still needed to be eaten.

"Yes! To the cafeteria we go." You smiled, pecking him on the cheek before grabbing his hand, intertwining your fingers with his so you could leave the ED together.

From the corner of your eye, you could feel several eyes following you and Jay as you left and without looking back, you knew who it was. You were sure that tomorrow, you'd be spoken to with much more respect and wariness than what you witnessed today.

The students wouldn't make that mistake again, especially in front of your husband.

#chicago med #onechicago #one chicago x reader #chicago med x reader #jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x imagine

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zoeykallus · 1 year ago

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Hey I really like you’re hc and wanted to ask you how the batch would react to there child failing math and possibly having to repeat the year if they can’t get a 4 (D) in there final

My parents are gonna kill me and I could really use some genital parenting and who’s better far that then the dad batch

Aloha! I'm so sorry, I'm so late with this one! I put the reader in "the kid"'s shoes. Hope that's alright.

The Bad Batch x Offspring!Reader HCs - Gentle Parenting

Comfort

____________

Hunter

When you finally confide in him and tell him about your math grades, he looks at you with raised eyebrows. And although Hunter has never been unduly strict, your guts suddenly tighten. "Why didn't you tell me you were having trouble with this earlier? We could have gotten you tutored," he says quietly. You avoid his gaze and say, "Dad, I've been tutoring, secretly. I thought I could handle it. I didn't want to let you down." Hunter blinks, thinks for a moment, then you hear him say softly but firmly, "Look at me when I'm talking to you, Kid." You lift your eyes again, surprised at the indulgent expression on his face, the softness in his eyes. "Nobody's perfect. Sometimes there are things you're not as good at as others. But you're better at other things. Repeating the year is not the end of the world. However, you'll have to study harder to at least make it through. Uncle Tech and Uncle Crosshair are good at math, I'm sure they'll be happy to help you."

You smirk, "Uncle Tech for sure, but Uncle Cross will just roll his eyes again" Hunter smirks as well and says, "He still loves you, and he likes to help you too, even if he won't admit it" Hunter sits down next to you and says, "Look, when all this schooling is over, you don't necessarily have to choose a career where you need this math stuff. What's important is that you find something that you like to do, something that makes sense to you. Many people spend years in education, jumping from job to job until they find something that makes them happy, or at least not unhappy." "You don't expect me to do anything in particular?" Hunter laughs softly, "Why should I? That wouldn't be wise or fair. Everyone has different strengths, desires and sensitivities. You may be my child, but you're your own person. Just try to be happy with what you do, that's all I ask."

Echo

He lowers the holo newspaper he has just read and looks at you piercingly, so piercingly that you automatically have to swallow. "Math?" he asks, as if he hadn't heard correctly. You nod silently. Echo thinks for a moment, then sighs. "Well, it's not everyone's cup of tea," he says thoughtfully, lifting his gaze and saying somewhat reprovingly, "You knew you had trouble with it before. Why didn't you approach me sooner?" You scuff your foot nervously under the breakfast table and say, "I thought I could handle it. I didn't want to disappoint you." "You were so afraid you'd disappoint me, that's why you're just telling me this now?" You nod meekly. Echo sighs again.

"Then I must have done something wrong in raising you. I thought you knew that you could come to me at any time, no matter what the problem. Did I put too much pressure on you? Is that it?" he asks gently. You blink in surprise. You didn't expect this reaction. "Not exactly," you say softly. "But?" "Dad, you're a soldier, have been all your life, and you often act like one. Everything strictly on schedule, everything has to be in order... sometimes I feel like I can't keep up." Echo smiles sweetly and laughs softly, "Oh Kiddo, sometimes when I'm like that, you have to remind me that I'm a father too, and we're not at the academy here." He leans forward at the table and says conspiratorially, "Your Uncle Hunter was pretty bad at math, did you know that? He was pretty darn good at just about everything, but math wasn't his thing at all" You look at Echo in surprise. "You're serious?"

Echo nods with a smirk. "Nobody's perfect, kiddo. It's not the end of the world. But for the future, you now know you can come to me with any problem, right?" You nod eagerly, earning a satisfied smile.

Wrecker

Contrary to the expectations of many, Wrecker has always been good at math, not at the Tech level, but much closer than you think. There's no way around it, anyone who works with explosives should know what they're doing and be able to calculate the amount of ingredients, explosion radius and much more. Wrecker can calculate things in his head, which would make some people dizzy. So you're all the more nervous when you give him the bad news. "Really?" he asks, puzzled, "Math? Hmm, I guess you didn't inherit that from me then." "I'm sorry," you say quietly. He looks at you questioningly. "Why? You've been studying hard, haven't you?" "Yes, I have" Wrecker puts a hand on your shoulder and says gently, "Then there's nothing to be sorry about. Some things you can't force. You'll find other strengths in yourself"

Du starrst ihn.

"You're not mad?" His expression is almost startled. "Mad? Why would I be mad? That wouldn't be fair, would it? Take a deep breath. I know all the exams have drained you, and you've been under a constant state of stress. Treat yourself, do something good for you. Maybe we should go to the fair in Naboo? You could take some friends with you" "You're rewarding me for my failure?" Wrecker laughs heartily. "No, Kiddo, this has nothing to do with failure. I'm rewarding you for working hard and want to give you a way to distract yourself from all the stress" "You're the best, Dad" He grins. "I know"

Crosshair

He's eerily quiet, just looking at you piercingly. "Dad?" "Math?" he asks as if he has to taste the word. You clear your throat nervously and nod. "Yeah, Dad, math." Crosshair sighs softly, pushes a new toothpick between his lips, and says, "I knew that sharing the same gene pool with Hunter would eventually doom me in some way." You look at him in disbelief. "What do you mean?" you ask cautiously. "Your Uncle Hunter is terrible at math". Surprised, you sit up in your chair. "So it's Uncle Hunter's fault?" Crosshair raises his eyebrows critically and asks, "Have you been studying? Tried tutoring?" You nod eagerly.

"Well, then it's Hunter's fault," Crosshair says dryly, "But that aside. You can't force something that isn't there. Some people can calculate absolutely anything for you, like your Uncle Tech, and others can just barely count their own fingers, like your Uncle Hunter." You look at him critically. "It's not that bad," you say quietly. Crosshair looks at you, his expression softening. "I know, Kiddo, I'm just making fun of your uncle, not you. You have other qualities. Besides, you're still young, you still have time to find your calling and the things you're good at and happy with"

Tech

He blinks so often and so fast for a moment that you begin to think he's having a stroke or something. Nervously, you wait for him to regain his composure. "Math, then," he finally says quietly, "I could have tutored you." You sigh and say, "Dad, your math is always so complicated, I can't keep up. I've looked elsewhere for tutoring, but it hasn't done me much good." Tech puts his holopad aside and looks at you. "Everyone has different strengths, my brothers and I are the best example of that. You have plenty of time to find yours." You ask cautiously, "You're not disappointed?" He shrugs and says, "Well, with the situation, maybe, but not with you. I'm proud of you, of your hard work and everything else you've accomplished so far. You still have a lot ahead of you, this is not the end" "That's really a relief," you say honestly. "You never have to be afraid to open up to me, I hope you know that". You nod with a smile. "I know that, dad"

"Good," Tech says with satisfaction, "Now we'll see that you don't fail a second time. You don't have to become an ace, I don't expect miracles and neither should you. Don't put too much pressure on yourself." You slide around a bit uneasily on your chair. "Do you think I can do this?" Tech nods gently and says, "Of course. But even if you can't, it's not the end of the world. We'll find another solution if we have to. Don't ever let that discourage you."

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@starwarsnerd111

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livebloggingmydescentintomadness · 7 months ago

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Hey man

this is the malevolent fic-starved anon.

You mentioned a Jarthur fic rec list

👁️👁️👁️

yo! i got you 👍

i haven't published the post yet because there are some more fics in my marked for later i want to get through first, but i'll go head and copy/paste the list i have so far for your enjoyment. putting it under a cut since it's long.

formaldehyde (or, The Case of the Missing Lilly) by SupposedToBeWriting 110k M

Half of the King in Yellow gets ejected through a portal on a failed ritual. To return, he must perform a human sacrifice - harder than it first seems, as the entity struggles to adapt to the peculiar ways of mortals. In a stroke of luck, he finds the perfect sacrifice in the form of one drunken, surly ex-PI: Arthur Lester.

In the meanwhile, Arkham is in the swing of Prohibition and everyone knows how things work around here. A chance meeting and an abrupt kidnapping put John and Arthur on a case: one where secrets lurk behind every mask and blood flows thicker than gin.

Surrogate: The Director's Cut by Kraiva, Somniate, Trin (ssjtrinity) 637k+ WIP M

The King in Yellow had a plan. It worked, and Arthur Lester broke.

Then it all went to hell.

A certain Outer God took issue with his favorite show's cancellation, and arrived with certain demands.

Hastur is furious. His adopted daughter is afraid. John wants to kill his other half; and Arthur has a lot of healing to do in rebuilt Carcosa, in the mystical Dreamlands.

Forced family is not, as it turns out, a good time for anyone.

(yes, this fic is absurdly long, and YES, it's absolutely worth it)

All that is mine to me, all that is yours to you by Stringgoblin 86k M

"We'll find you a nice cadaver, or something."

After everything, Arthur and John finally have time to figure out how to get John his own body. It isn't a pleasant process. It turns out that having a fragment of a god excised from your mind has some side-effects, and being a fragment of a god suddenly resident in a human ex-corpse isn't particularly straightforward either.

They'll help each other through it. They always do.

whiskey old fashioned sour by bluejayblueskies 80k E

Following the death of his daughter, famous film composer and pianist Arthur Lester drops out of the music scene and disappears from the public eye. Ten years later, Arthur now works as a private investigator and has no interest in performing or composing ever again.

John is intrigued by Arthur, who comes to his club to drink on the rare nights that there’s no music scheduled. As they meet again and again, they begin to grow closer. But Arthur isn’t the only one with a past he’s trying to run away from.

In a Yellow Wood by oprime 72k T

John is gone, and Arthur goes back about the business of living. Until he finds himself thrust back into the dark underbelly of the world and decides to find his best friend. Or die trying.

I Prefer My Heart to Be Broken by Trin (ssjtrinity) 140k M

(TMA/Malevolent crossover)

Somewhere Else isn't right, and they've never talked about what happened in the Panopticon, but so what? They're together. The Fears aren’t gone, no, but behind a curtain, subdued.

Martin actually loves the small-village life, farming and friends and found family. Jon is... managing. They're making it work.

But the universe they landed in is occupied, and its current rulers are very interested in the new kids. Entities made of Fear, attached to a damaged ex-human and his surprisingly sneaky lover? Who could resist playing with that?

Everyone has plans, and plans under those plans. What happens when a web grows too heavy to support its own weight?

"Tears and blood, blood and tears," says Kayne.

He is not wrong.

Oh, I Love You So Much (It Scares Me Half To Death) by SupposedToBeWriting 84k M

Arthur and John have become Doe & Lester, private detectives. Finally in his own body, John is eager to see what the rest of his mortal life holds -- Arthur, on the other hand, believes that John should spend his life without Arthur holding him back. Arthur is not the sort of man who can provide stability, warmth. A family.

On a case, they find a baby clutched in the arms of her dead father. John grows attached quickly, and together, the men discover that the baby is in fact Emily MacFarland from another timeline... and that the universe is much more breakable than they thought.

The sky falls around their ears, strange flesh monsters crawl from portals, and the world seems to be nearing its end. John begins to realize what exactly he wants out of life, as Arthur faces the constant enemy to his own happiness: himself.

A Night Out In Albany by SupposedToBeWriting 9k M

Arthur and John arrive in Albany after the last train to New York leaves. Stranding in Albany for the night, they take advantage of the opportunity and get Arthur a change of clothes and a shave -- and maybe even a movie, if time allows. After the horrors they encountered in Addison, and amidst Arthur's growing suspicion that his friend is hiding something, sometimes it's nice to have a night out on the town.

How Their Light Sets Me Dreaming by Artistic_Witch 12.6k M

After the confrontation with the King, John awakens to a beautiful vision of a life he and Arthur never had the chance to lead. Is this a manipulative trick meant to break him, or something else entirely?

Now That's What I Call Entangled! by Croik 58k E

On the way to the plateau, Arthur and John discover a spell in one of their books that will (hopefully) allow them to fight back against the King in Yellow. But when John ends up absorbed by the King, it's up to Arthur to free him.

tachycardia by bluejayblueskies 6.3k E

The thump-thump-thump increases until it’s all John can hear, and quite frankly, he’s had enough. “Just calm down!” he snarls, and he clenches his hand into a fist, and then—

And then, it stops.

John has a single moment of blissful silence.

Then, Arthur wheezes and crumples to the ground.

Or, John gains control of Arthur’s heart.

In Vino Veritas by SupposedToBeWriting 5k T

Taking advantage of relative safety, John and Arthur have a nice meal and a bottle of wine. It takes some time before they realize that certain god fragments are not immune to the effects of alcohol, and certain mortal men have recently lost a significant amount of blood. Confessions are made, plans are established, and a good rest is had by all.

Take My Skin and Wear It by PrettyArbitrary 3k E

Stripped to his skin, Arthur lays back on the mattress. “All right, John, I’m all yours.”

They share a body. John thinks it's about time he got more familiar with it.

It Would Be A Long Drive Home by Croik 20k T

The King in Yellow throws Arthur out of the Dreamlands, convinced that will be the end of his troubles. But he's miscalculated - Arthur and John are still deeply entangled, and the threat of Arthur's death and banishment to the Dark World hangs over them all. The King has no choice but to help Arthur survive this, for his own sake (aka Arthur Never Makes the Deal with Kayne AU).

Faroe's Waltz by Wildehack (tyleet) 10k M

Arthur dreams of pain and wakes to music: the opening strains of a melody, left incomplete.

Cold As the Rain That Falls in December by captaincravatthecapricious 41k M

There's no way Arthur just waltzes off to NY with a hole in his stomach sewed up by filthy thread and fishhooks, right?

Phagia by PrettyArbitrary 4k T

It's a holdover from his old body, his old identity. Sometimes his blunt little human teeth ache to bite. To rend, to tear into flesh and set his jaw and just rip.

a burden halved by Calamitatum 11k

Arthur's scars litter his skin like a roadmap of mistakes, the harrowing evidence of everything he's suffered to keep them both alive.

When John is injured on a case, he's startled to find that Arthur can't feel it. Determined, for once, to ease his friend's burden, John keeps the severity of the wound to himself. After all, he's seen Arthur bounce back from plenty worse, right?

Right?

From Roots to Tip by Croik 3.2k E

Breaktime in the Dreamlands, and Arthur promised that John would have his turn for a "hand job."

The Lightning In The Collied Night by Artistic_Witch 4k G

Arthur decides to help John acclimate to his new body by teaching him how to dance.

Sometimes all you can do is dance in the dark...

Embrace the World Ahead by SupposedToBeWriting 2k T

Taking a quiet moment, Arthur starts to nod off. John has a question he'd like to ask, and in return, Arthur receives the first hug he'd had in a very, very long while.

#malevolent #jarthur #anonymous #ask

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ohcorny · 8 months ago

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hey! i was wondering if you'd be willing to break down what your schedule was like working on the graphic novels you've been doing? like, how much time did it take and how much/what were you working on per day?

shore, so first book was a bit loosey goosey because it was my first time ever working on a tightly dictated schedule other than like. an anthology. and i hadn't figured out my exact rhythm. plus i was still working on NS at the same time for a big chunk of it, so i can't say i was firing on all cylinders.

anyway. the first book is 264 pages long. i started thumbnailing it on 4/18/2022, and turned my thumbnails in for review on 8/23/22, so it took me about 4 months start to finish to script and thumbnail (because i do those at the same time) the book. i honestly don't know how many i did in a day or how many days i worked a week because of some calculator fudging to make it give me accurate deadlines every time i finished a piece early. right now, as i thumbnail book 2, i'm holding myself to 4 thumbnails a day, 4 days a week (so a weekly quota of 16) and i've been keeping up with that fairly well.

i super don't know how long penciling actually took me because it looks like i didn't record the real start date. i remember it took longer to start them than i liked because the thumbnails took a long time to get reviewed, but it worked out fine. for pencils, i held myself to 3 pages a day, 4 days a week. i think this may have been when i started the 4 day work week and i have not gone back since. i finished pencilling 2/24/23.

inks and colors were done simultaneously. for the most part in this book, i don't ink backgrounds, they get done during the color phase. so i would ink 3 pages every day for a week, then color 3 pages every day for a week. and then about 3/4 of the way through the book i realized i enjoyed myself a lot more if i mixed it up, so i switched to inking and coloring whatever i felt like, so long as 3 things got done a day (so, ink color color, or color ink ink, whatever). i finished the book, not counting cover and extra material, on 1/25/24.

which was so far ahead of the original june 2024 deadline that its release date got bumped up to next february. originally it was going to release on my birthday. a tragic loss.

i took all of february off from comic work (and spent the entire thing doing like. 37 commissions. no i don't know how to take real breaks) and started thumbnailing book 2 on march 4th. as of today i'll have thumbnailed 123 pages. basically halfway there!

edit: i should also note i'm like. horrifically fast. ask anybody who also does comics or has worked with me and they'll tell you i'm a freak of nature. do not hold me up as any sort of standard and always ask for as much time as you can get.

#hunger's bite

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thisbisexualbrainrot · 1 year ago

Text

I Know Places We Can Hide

Rating: E

Summary: Aziraphale sneaks out of Heaven to visit Crowley. This fic is my version of a third season!

Tags: Post Season 2 Finale. Canon Compliant. Aziraphale POV. M/M. Sexual but plot driven.

Author Notes: NOW ON AO3! I just want more fic from Azi's perspective so I did it myself. Partly based on this post by @sensitivesiren cause I thought it was a great theory. Full first chapter is under the cut! :)

“Baby, I know places we won't be found and

They'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down

'Cause I know places we can hide.”

-Taylor Swift

—

He wasn't supposed to be here.

Earth, that is. He wasn't supposed to be on Earth. And certainly was not supposed to be visiting a certain demon who, for all he knew, did not ever want to see him again.

The Supreme Archangel took a breath to steady himself, absentmindedly pulling on the stiff collar of his pressed, white suit that he knew he could not show his face in. A hint of a buzzing sensation in his fingers and he was back in his familiar earthly attire.

It's a small miracle, they won't notice…I hope Aziraphale bit his lip and wondered if he was pushing his luck too far this time. He had slipped out after his weekly management meeting, when the weight of the discussion had been overwhelming to no one else but him. He didn’t understand how they could talk about such things, their eyes dull with apathy, like they were discussing budgeting and not the destruction of the human race.

These last few months had been a torment. He knew Crowley was right, he was not like the other angels. He didn't care about war or great plans. Well, he did care in the sense that he didn't understand why the earth needed to be destroyed at all. If I'm the one in charge, I can make a difference. Some difference he’d made, indeed. In the months he’d been in heaven, the only difference he’d made was restructuring the scrivener recording schedules due to Muriels absence. In all other regards, he had found the job to be lacking in the “making decisions for heaven” department. It was more of a mouthpiece role, mimicking whatever The Metatron told him to command of the lower angels. He realized rather quickly that he had been manipulated. That heaven had offered him the job to get him away from Earth. Away from Crowley. Away from actually making a difference.

So, his wary eyes scanning the room near the elevator, he hastened his steps toward it and made his escape.

–

“Nope, not doing this.”

Crowley shot up from the bench like it was made of holy water. “I have absolutely nothing to say to you, Angel.” He turned to leave Saint James park, but not before throwing a spiteful “You can go ahead and change your clothes back. I know that's not what you're wearing up there.”

Aziraphale breathed out sharply through his nose. Of course, Crowley was going to be difficult. He’d hurt him, he knew that but he had hoped the demon would at least be a little pleased to see him.

“I changed for my own comfort, if you must know.” Not a complete lie. “Crowley, we need to talk. I-I’m terribly regretful of how we left things and-” “You need my help.” He interrupted, “That's why you’re here, right?” Aziraphale said nothing. He understood he had hurt him but the demon had hurt him as well. And it wasn’t fair that he was being so cruel. Crowley clearly noted the silence and snarked, “Well, unfortunately for you, I'm out of the business of helping angels.”

“Crowley, please.” Aziraphale said softly, “I- if you would just hear me out.” The angel felt a pang of fear, pursing his lips and hoping that he would at least be allowed to explain himself. He couldn’t read Crowley's expression since he wasn’t facing him but his shoulders looked… tense. He finally heard Crowley mutter through gritted teeth, “Fine.”

“Oh, thank you.” He could feel a slight warmth of relief sing through his bones. “You see, I made a terrible mistake and The Meta-” He stopped himself, this should be discussed more privately. He stumbled over his words, “That is, Could I-...would you be willing to come back to the bookshop with me?” It was the first place he could think of but not the most ideal place either, he realized.

Crowley paused and Azirphale hoped he hadn’t ruined his chance. “We can meet at my place.”

“Oh you're um- you have a new one now?” Crowley seemingly ignored the question. He took out a slip of paper that looked like a receipt, scrawled an address on it and handed it to him, still not turning fully to meet the Angel's eyes. “Meet you there.” And with that, Crowley quickly shoved his slender hands into his tight pockets and walked away.

Aziraphale watched Crowley leave, the slip of paper still clutched between his fingers. Hearing the anger in his voice made the angel wince. Oh how I've made a mess of things.

He still stopped by the bookshop briefly to check on it. Muriel was delighted to tell him all about their interactions with the humans and how they had read almost every book in the shop already. He smiled kindly to them, his mind distracted by the events in the park. He did not mention any of it to the young scrivener. He gave them a quick farewell, thanked them for watching over things and exited the shop. Anxiety pooled in the pit of his stomach. Right, the address. He pulled it out of his pocket.

How would he ever explain all of this? Where would he start? Had heaven realized he was gone? What if they found him? He glanced around anxiously and waited for a feeling of Michael or Uriel appearing but saw no none. He wanted to stop and see Maggie and Nina but couldn't risk any more time. He would have to catch up with them later.

He glanced back down at the sheet of paper and could make out the address even with Crowley's terrible handwriting. Aziraphale couldn't help but smile. It turns out, the flat was just a few blocks away. Maybe Crowley didn’t truly hate him after all.

The doorbell rang, a hollow chime echoing through the flat. Aziraphale waited not so patiently for the black door to swing open, yellow eyes finally meeting his gaze.

“I knew they would be purple.” Crowley mumbled with what sounded like annoyance to his voice.

His eyes. He had forgotten. “Oh- I would love to do away with them, however, I can't seem to change them.” He fiddled with his ring and gave Crowley a half hearted, nervous smile. Crowley smirked, “I know the feeling.”

He stepped aside, a gesture that pulled Aziraphale in and he was hit with the familiar comforting scent of amber and brimstone. I know what you smell like he remembered the demon telling him once, and well…likewise. The door shut behind him and Crowley headed over to a bar counter, pulling two wine glasses from a rack and pouring each of them a glass. A fire crackled in the hearth, and the room was cozy despite being mostly decorated in sleek black furnishings. Crowley handed him the glass and Aziraphale managed to say thank you with a steady voice. He was incredibly nervous. “So?” Crowley cleared his throat, knocking Aziraphale’s racing mind back into the room. “Are you going to explain what the purpose of this holy appearance is?” He settled in a large armchair, swinging one leg over the other. He leveled his gaze on Aziraphale, taking a sip of his wine.

Aziraphale felt the panic that had been swelling inside of him threaten to bubble over. He had no idea where to begin, just as he had feared. He ran his finger nervously over the rim of his glass. Staring down at it, he centered himself and pulled together what he needed to say, or at least it was a start.

He admitted quietly, “I've made a terrible mess of things. I should have never taken the job.”

Crowley was silent. Aziraphale continued after a pause, his eyes still downward. “It appears The Metatron’s intentions were to separate us. I have been all but useless as a leader, I'm afraid. They don't actually let me decide anything. Not anything of real importance. And, worst of all, they plan to initiate the Second Coming in a matter of months? Years? I'm not entirely sure but it will be soon.”

Crowley let out a frustrated sounding sigh, shaking his head, “So that is why you’re here, to get my help then? Cause if that’s all you want you can shove o-”

“No.” Aziraphale looked up then, and he hoped Crowley could see the pain in his eyes as he confessed, “I am here to apologize and beg for your forgiveness.” Silence. A long awkward pause. Aziraphale didn't know what to say next, so he waited.

“Well then Angel, go on.” Crowley gestured his glass toward him. “Beg.”

Aziraphale huffed, “If you are going to make a mockery of it, I’ll just as soon leave.”

Crowley looked amused, “Oh come on, you really can't expect that I wouldn't give you a hard time. With you rejecting me and all, it's only fair.”

“I would appreciate you taking this seriously.” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. If Crowley was going to make his feelings a joke, then he wasn't going to even bother trying to mend this- this…

“Oh I am,” Crowley’s tone shifted, “and you better start talking, Angel.”

“Fine.” Aziraphale straightened, setting his untouched glass on a nearby table. He looked at Crowley, “You were right.” “I want the dance.”

“No.” Bastard.

“Then apology not accepted” Crowley took another swig of his wine. It was almost like he was having fun with this. Looking Aziraphale up and down he remarked flatly, “You’ve lost weight. No crepes in heaven, I suppose.”

Aziraphale felt his frustration growing, “Crowley, will you please focus on what I am trying to say?”

“So far, I haven't really heard you say anything.” Crowley shot back, his eyes were dark and angry.

Aziraphale had enough. He moved toward Crowley’s seat, kneeling in front of him firmly but gently. He locked their eyes together, hoping that Crowley wouldn't see how scared he was and mistake it for something else.

“Then I will say it now.” Aziraphale’s voice wavered but he pushed on, “I have never regretted something more, in six thousand years. For choosing to leave you. The truth is…” He swallowed nervously, “I love you Crowley, no matter what you are. I will always love you the same.” He took a breath, “A-And you owe me nothing in return, except I would prefer for you to still consider me a friend. You don't have to kiss me, if it's not genuine.” If Crowley would agree to still be his friend, that would be enough. He didn't want Crowley to feel forced to love him the way he wanted. That would not do. And he couldn’t bear to hear Crowley speak to him with such disdain and anger any longer, even if some of it was deserved. He had placed his hands on the demon’s knees sometime during this admission, the warmth of Crowley's legs sending a jolt of adrenaline down to his gut. Now, it seems, he was unable to remove them. He was frozen in place, his eyes following Crowley’s expression. The demon said nothing, at first. Aziraphale watched as he slowly set his wine glass down,

“You think it wasn't genuine then.” Not a question.

Aziraphale looked back at him with slight confusion. “You- you surely know how I feel about you, Crowley. Certainly your kiss was a cruel temptation, was it not? A last effort to try to change my mind? I-I forgave you for it but it did hurt, you see, so I was angry and I-...I am..”

“ARGH!” Crowley stood up, pushing past Aziraphale and spinning around to face him. “Did you really not hear a word I said?!”

Aziraphale, startled by the sudden movement and aggression, stood and turned to face Crowley with confusion now etched into his features. “I-I was listening. You didn't want to come with me, you didn't want to be an angel with me, you- you said you didn't need heav- “

“Argh, not that part Aziraphale!” Crowley rarely said his full name anymore. He loved how it sounded rolling off the demon's tongue. Very distracting.

“What part then?” Aziraphale asked quietly. He had clearly been wrong about the kiss, but that meant- he felt his heart beat faster in his chest.

“I refuse to believe you dont know.” Crowley’s expression hardened, but tears welled in his eyes. He didn't have his sunglasses to hide them and Aziraphale could see then that the anger and disdain for him was actually just…heartbreak.

Crowley was heartbroken. Oh. OH.

He had been wrong in Crowley's intentions for the kiss.

Crowley had been trying to tell him his feelings the last time they saw each other. Aziraphale had just not been listening properly, or at least not been really hearing him properly. The kiss was a last ditch attempt, but it was to show Aziraphale how he felt. What they could be if he did stay. We could have been us.

“Oh I…Crowley.” He stepped closer instinctively, reaching his arm out to grasp Crowley's hand. He thought for a moment Crowley would pull away, but he didn’t. “I've been such a complete fool. Please forgive me.” Crowley cursed quietly as a tear slipped down his cheek, looking away. Aziraphale pulled them closer then, his free hand reaching up to turn Crowley’s face back to him and wipe the tear away. His hand remained, gently rubbing his thumb on the demon’s cheekbone. Aziraphale’s heart could not have been beating louder in his ears as Crowley leaned in until their foreheads were resting on each other. A breath of silence and then quietly he heard,

“I’ve missed you, Angel.”

“And I you, my dear. Desperately.” Aziraphale closed his eyes and brushed his nose against Crowley’s, cautiously. Slowly. With his eyes shut, the sensation of the demon’s breath was so close. His warm face was so unbearably close and the Angel pushed in further until his lips were barely caressing the demons, testing his boundaries.

Testing to see if Crowley would push him away.

He didn’t.

Aziraphales heart fluttered as Crowley wrapped his hand around the Angel’s neck, his fingers curling into the nape of the white curls and pushed in to deepen the kiss. It felt like fire. Warm, crackling and intense. Nothing like before, no feeling of humiliation or pain. Aziraphale sunk into it, letting out a small moan as Crowley licked against his lips. Crowley must have taken the moan as an invitation. He began to push off Aziraphale’s jacket and it fell to the floor.

Aziraphale pulled back slightly, “Crowley, I- shouldn't we talk about this?”

“I think we’ve done enough talking, don't you? Always talking, us.”

Crowley moved back in to claim the angel's mouth once more and Aziraphale agreed, they could talk after. After they- oh mother in heaven, has Crowley always smelled this incredible? He breathed in deeply, pushing his tongue in and getting a satisfying groan in return. He wanted all of him then. Wanted to touch every unholy inch of him. He felt Crowley start to push him backward and clung to him as they toppled onto a black velvet couch. He felt the weight of Crowley's hips as he settled onto his lap, one leg resting on either side as he straddled over him and cupped his jaw, kissing him feverishly. Aziraphale used one hand to pull the demon closer to him. The other gripped Crowley's neck, fingers gliding into perfectly soft red hair. He felt Crowley slip off his shoes and he did the same, all while not breaking their joined mouths even for a moment. Crowley chuckled affectionately as he broke their lips apart, “You sure you’re alright with this, Angel?”

“I don't know what you mean,” Aziraphale chided, “I have been around just as long as you. I know perfectly well what this is.”

Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel's neck, “but have you ever...” he waved his hands and the rest trailed off. Implied. “I haven't had the desire until now.”

“Oh is that so?” Crowley teased, “Well well, Supreme Archangel...”

Aziraphale blushed hotly and sputtered “Well I- I wouldn't say I didn't have the desire till now but I just- oh you know what I mean you impertinent demon!” Crowley rolled his hips then, and Aziraphale forgot to keep scolding him.

“S’what I’m good at after all” he whispered, his breath hot in Aziraphale’s ear, “flustering you”.

He then watched the demon's eyes go wide as he grasped Crowley's thighs and flipped them over on the couch. The angel was now resting on top, his legs splitting Crowley's apart. Aziraphale began running his nose along Crowley’s neck, his voice a bit deeper than usual. “You know my dear, I think you underestimate just how adept I am at flustering you as well.” He then pressed a number of light kisses along Crowley’s long neck, and was quite pleased when he heard a low growl. He had never felt quite like this. There was an unleashing of desire at seeing Crowley laid out so desperate for him. He nuzzled lovingly against Crowley's mouth, his eyes half lidded, as he asked “Where is your bed?” Crowley swallowed, noticeably. His voice was rough. “Down the hall to the left.”

“Show me.”

Crowley pushed Aziraphale off of him enough to stand and hastily lead him down the hall, their sock-covered feet sliding smoothly over the hardwood floor. He had reached out and grabbed the Angel's hand without another word. And Aziraphale’s heart was in his throat as they entered the bedroom. Crowley pushed him back to lean against the doorframe and kissed him achingly and intentionally. The angel barely noticed the undoing of his bowtie as it dropped to the floor. They broke apart and Aziraphale sucked in a shuddering breath,

“Crowley…” he exhaled as he lifted the silver tie over the demon’s head. The black leather vest came undone next and he captured the demon's lips in his again as Crowley set to work on his velvet waistcoat. With hungry confidence, Aziraphale pushed against Crowley until he was stepping backward toward the king size bed. The demon was finally sliding off the waistcoat and working his way down the buttons of the undershirt when he muttered with frustration,

“Too many layers....” and proceeded to rip the rest of the shirt off, the buttons clattering against the wood floor. Aziraphale, shockingly, did not object. He pulled the white undershirt off over his head and climbed on top of Crowley as they settled onto the black duvet, soft and inviting against their bodies. He ran a hand down the demon's side and Crowley hissed with pleasure as the angel ducked down and pushed the black t-shirt up to run his mouth along the demon’s stomach. The shirt was pulled off and got lost somewhere on the bed in the process.

“Aziraphale...” Crowley breathed, and a vulnerability slipped out of him. He said the angel's name like it was a prayer. He brought his mouth back up to Crowley’s lips and felt the demon wrap his arms around him. When their lips met again it was a moment of devotion and reverence. He savored Crowley's mouth, trying to give him the worship and love he deserved. Please always say my name that way. Please always want me as you do now. He begged silently and he hoped Crowley could feel how much he adored him. The demon kissed back with as much affection, rolling them so he was now laying on the broad chest of the angel. He sunk his head down and began kissing his neck and down his chest. Aziraphale moaned and grabbed at the red disheveled hair of the demon, bucking his body upwards to bring himself closer to Crowley’s pleasuring mouth as he moved downward.

“So naughty…” Crowley teased and Aziraphale let out a small huff of annoyance. But Crowley kissed his body tenderly, nipping and smoothing over the bites with his tongue. And slowly moved downward. Until Aziraphale sucked in a breath at the sensation of Crowley’s mouth on his cock, only a thin layer of fabric in between. He needed that fabric to be gone. Thankfully, Crowley was one step ahead and pulled the boxer briefs down the Angels thick thighs.

The feeling was overwhelming, incredibly good but almost too much. His vision went blurry and all he could think was how he needed more. Every movement of Crowley's hot, wet mouth pushed the Angel further into utter oblivion. It was no surprise that humans found this so enjoyable, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t done it until now. He gasped as Crowley's tongue flicked out to pleasure him and lost all sense of anything but the demon's touch on his skin.

If this was sinful, Aziraphale made a mental note to sin often in the future.

It was some time later when they collapsed, the tension in their bodies melting away with the release. Aziraphale laid next to Crowley, his breathing a little ragged as he caught up. He rolled over and smiled into the crook of the demon's neck and Crowley smiled too as they both broke into a shared laughter. There was no denying what was between them. There was no going back now. And somehow, after everything, they found that it was incredibly funny. Crowley sighed pleasantly. He rubbed his hand on his forehead, pushing his sweaty red locks away from his face,

“Well, now that that coming is over with, do you want to tell me more about this Second Coming then?” Aziraphale gaped with dramatic disgust, and nearly shoved Crowley off the bed. Crowley sat up laughing, “I'm going to grab the rest of that wine.”

Aziraphale pulled him back down to sit on the bed, sitting up himself to wrap his arms around him from behind and plant a kiss on his cheek. He savored the feeling of intimacy as his bare chest warmed against the demon's back.

Crowley laughed warmly, “I’ll be right back.”

He got up and pulled on a black silk robe he had hanging on his door, and reached into his closet to toss an oversized Velvet Underground t-shirt to the Angel.

Aziraphale tucked up his nose at the shirt, “Don’t you have anything a little more stylish?” Crowley rolled his eyes, “It's just us, you’ll survive. I’ll go grab you some new clothes tomorrow.”

Azirphale watched him slip the robe on, wanting very much to rip it off later. Partly to wear it instead of the t-shirt, if he was being totally honest. He could miracle something, he supposed, but he’d already risked enough doing the small one earlier. And Crowley wasn't doing miracles either, he noticed. He thought back to the handwritten slip of paper.

But he couldn't deny that he enjoyed the pleasing silk covered view that sauntered down the hallway and out of sight.

–

It turns out he had lost a little weight and the shirt did fit. Albeit a little tighter in the arms and shoulders than it would on Crowley but it would do.

When Crowley returned, Aziraphale was wearing the offending t-shirt with his boxer briefs back on, blonde hair disheveled and flipping through the records Crowley had on a small shelf in the corner of his room. He noticed Crowley staring at him, a look of arousal in his eyes and he suddenly felt very self conscious. He was sure he looked like an absolute mess, but apparently the new look was appealing to the demon.

Aziraphale walked over to meet him and accepted the glass of wine he had neglected to drink earlier gratefully. He felt so content it was almost dizzying and he heard himself say without thinking,

“I hope you know that I am very much in love with you.” And he couldn't very well take it back, and realized he actually didn't even want to. He leaned in for a kiss before sitting on the edge of the bed. He felt the weight of it shift as the demon joined him.

“I caught on, I think,” Crowley teased. “Seeing as you left your very important heavenly post to pop down here and seduce me.” Aziraphale’s blush deepened and he caught Crowley smiling devilishly, clearly enjoying it.

“T-that wasn't the plan! Initially.” Aziraphale fussed absentmindedly with the bottom hem of the shirt, “Oh I don't know, perhaps it was. I just couldn't stand being there anymore. They are all so dreadfully dull and awful. I needed to see you. I couldn't leave it as it was and- oh dear,” Aziraphale remembered, “Do you think they’ve realized I'm gone?”

“Probably.” Crowley shrugged, stilling the angels' fussing hand with his own. Aziraphale was grateful for the secure touch. “But they have no idea where you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“I warded this place after I moved in, against angels and demons. No one enters here without my permission and no one can see it or who’s inside. We can hide here until we sort this out.”

“Impressive,” Aziraphale sipped his wine, “How did you come up with such a thing?” “Muriel has been reading a lot of your books, the ones in the back. Spell books. And, I had my own ideas. I wasn't sure it would work but I tested it on Muriel, they couldn't come in until I let them. I don't know for sure about the second part of it. So we will see what happens, I suppose.”

“Fascinating.” Aziraphale smiled fondly. “You really are such a clever demon. I’ve always thought so.” Crowley blushed, and it did not go unnoticed. Aziraphale let Crowley pull his face in and give him a long, affectionate kiss. His mouth was warm and supple from earlier, a hint of wine on his tongue.

“I'm in love with you too, Angel.” Crowley stated, like it was as obvious as the stars in the sky. “And I thought, maybe, you would come back so I- I, you know, came up with a plan. Just in case.”

Aziraphale beamed at the confession. He wasn’t sure if he ever would say it out loud and honestly didn’t need to hear it. But, actually hearing it was like finally releasing a breath he’d been holding for years. But that initial meeting in the park, if he’d wanted him to come back then why-

“You didn’t seem to want me back at first.” It was more a question, and he looked at Crowley to see how it landed. Crowley was staring straight ahead at nothing. Lost in memory.

“I did,” he said finally. “But missing you and actually seeing you again were very- it was hard to know for sure why you came back.”

“Ah,” Aizraphale felt a small twinge of guilt, “Well, I hope it’s clear now.”

Crowley chuckled, “Just a bit, yeah.” And for the first time, Aziraphale felt truly forgiven.

They talked through the night, among other things that distracted from the conversation. By morning light, they had the beginnings of a plan to save humanity and each other. Again.

_ It had been a few hours after Aziraphale had left the bookshop. Muriel was busy cataloging books when Michael stormed through the doors seething, Uriel following behind. “Where is he?”

Muriel smiled, “Oh hello! Where is who?”

“Aziraphale.” Michael snapped, “who else would I come here asking about?”

Muriel winced, “I don't know actually. He was here for a moment but then he left. He didn't say where he was going.”

Michael let out an aggravated groan. They had been tasked by a very irritated Voice of God to locate the second missing Supreme Archangel and bring him back immediately.

The only problem was, there was no trace of him anywhere. Or the demon Crowley.

Ugh.

Michael was going to get so much shit for this.

Author Notes: Thanks for reading! Let me know if you'd like me to continue this story. :)

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