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i-readtoo-much · 3 years ago

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Oops my finger slipped.

Wait, does this make me a writer now?

Tom x reader

Warnings: fluff, messing with Harry (poor Harry), a couple suggestive sentences, some swears, bad writing. Also this dialogue is about as American as it gets so I apologize in advance.

“You know what the most annoying thing is? Tom and Y/N.”

A mix of agreements fill the room as the boys sit on the sectional with their eyes focused on the game in front of them. Harry continued complaining as his fingers mashed the buttons on his controller in an effort to not die, letting out a slight curse when he got hit.

“Most of the time I just want to shout at them to get their heads out of their asses.”

Harrison replied with his own remark.

“I know, it’s so obvious they like each other. Why won’t they just admit it already?”

Tuwaine and Harry shook their heads in agreement. Suddenly, and rather inconveniently, the subjects of their complaints walk through the door, completely oblivious to the grumbles from the three boys in the living room. Laughing and bumping into each other, they set their bags in the kitchen and finally look to greet the rest of the Holland and co. residence.

“You guys are in the exact same spot as when we left. Have you moved at all?”

The girl continued to unpack her bags as she made her sarcastic jab. Harrison quickly replied with his defense.

“Yes, I went to the bathroom earlier. Therefore, I moved.”

Tom finally chimed in after putting their coats away and walking back into the kitchen, letting his arm brush across Y/N’s waist, just out of site from the boys. He met her eyes before commenting:

“Congrats, you walked ten steps. What are you guys playing anyway?”

“Well if you stopped staring at your girlfriend you would see.”

Tuwaine barked out a laugh as Harrison ‘oooo’ed at the chide. Y/N, playing along, poking at Tom’s side and muttering her own teasing remark, making Tom chuckle.

“Well if you guys are going to continue being dicks, Y/N and I are going to watch a movie.”

Scooping up the snacks they could, the pair began their trip upstairs to Tom’s room. The latter sticking up his middle finger to the trio watching them walk away.

The thing is: Tom and Y/N were already dating. They had been for almost a year. The boys are just too dumb to notice. They never really made an official announcement since they didn’t think it was a big deal. But apparently that meant that they weren’t dating at all. The three just thought they were too shy to admit their feelings. Realizing this, Tom and Y/N decided to play along just to see how far it could go. It wasn’t until one day where Tuwiane finally caught on

Tuwaine had actually suspected something for awhile, but kept his thoughts to himself. Mostly for his own amusement but also because he saw how much the couple was enjoying this time in their own little bubble. At first he though the relationship was just something casual, but as time grew on, he could see just how right they were for each other. They were best friends. One completed the other. And it became very apparent that they could never go back to a time where they were just friends.

It wasn’t much longer after that day that Harrison finally caught on as well. His suspicions soon being confirmed after walking into the kitchen one day. He hoped they never went any farther than what he walked in on. He should probably scrub the counters just in case.

Surprisingly, the third and final roommate had not discovered the relationship until after their one year anniversary. I mean, how could it get more obvious than coming back from a weekend away together with that signature post-‘sexcapade’ glow. They all thought for sure that he would finally connect the dots but he still remained oblivious. But it finally came to that one fateful day.

Tom and Y/N had been more obnoxiously clingy than usual. Not anything too crazy, but enough to make you roll your eyes in frustration from how cute they were. It was the playful banter and the sly nudges that really did it. The group was meant to be continuing their annual Marvel binge, but those disgusting giggles were just too distracting. It didn’t take long for Harry to get frustrated and for Harrison and Tuwaine to get a little giddy from what they knew was coming. Another five agonizing minutes passed before he finally snapped.

Harry turned to the pair before finally letting loose.

“Oh my god will you two just fuck and get it over with already!”

The room went silent except for the sound of Ultron’s evil monologue in the background.

Y/N glanced at Tom, holding back a smile before responding.

“What are you talking about”?

Angrily pausing the movie, Harry started his own monologue.

“The giggles and the constant flirting! You two are absolutely infuriating. You’ve been dancing around each other for years and your still too stupid to see that you both like each other! I mean seriously, tell me what friends you see that act the way you two do? That’s right, none! So you will you just pull your stupid heads out of your stupid asses and just fucking tell each other already!”

Panting to catch his breath, Harry finally felt the weight off his shoulders after finally saying what he has wanted to for the past year. A second passed before the room exploded in laughter. Harry sat confused. He thought Tuwaine and Harrison would sympathize with him. What was he missing? Finally the laughter died down as Tom wiped the tear from his eye.

“You are such an idiot, do you know that?”

Harrison slapped his hand onto Harry shoulder as he tried to contain his laughter.

“They’ve been dating for almost a year now!”

Harry’s brow furrowed as he soaked up the new information.

“Wait what?”

“Tom and I started dating last May.”

It suddenly dawned on Harry what they’ve been doing and how he was the only that didn’t know.

“So you’re telling me that you and Tom have been dating for over a year and you only told Haz and Tuwaine? What kind of joke is this? Who doesn’t tell their sibling that they been dating someone for a while fucking year?”

Harrison jumped to the now ‘outed’ couple’s defense.

“Well it’s not like they’ve been hiding it. And they didn’t tell us, we figured it out on our own. This is on you.”

“I-“

Harry stuttered to come up with a retort before stopping. Shrinking in his own embarrassment he turned back to the tv.

“Well…. good. It’s about time you two got together.”

And with that, he unpaused the movie, determined to forget this ever happened.

Hours later, and everyone had retired to bed. Tom and Y/N lay together, tangled in each other’s arms as she spoke up.

“So do you think he approves?”

Letting out a snort, Tom leans down to kiss her forehead.

“Let’s give him time. It is a big change for him after all.”

Giving Tom one final peck in the shoulder, Y/N rolls over to settle in for the night, Tom moving to wrap his arm around her waist.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

#I wrote this #tom holland blurb #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland imagines

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twerkinwithhazza · 4 years ago

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Pumpkin Seeds

Author’s Note: UH OHHH BACK AGAIN. I’m back yall finally off hiatus all because my phone is broken LOL. Anywho tumblr is a totally different place and most of my mutuals are adulting now. I would love new tumblr friends and I’m gonna try to continue this writing stuff but I’m busy with adult things now lol and it really depends on if you guys like what you see. Please excuse my rustiness this my first imagine in years... literally. I’ll get better with time. This was also slightly edited but I know there bound to be some mistakes. Anyways watch the Golden music video for clear skin and I hope you guys enjoy! I think it's so adorable that whoever requested this thought this request wouldn't speak to me lol ! It definitely did because this went from a blurb to a full blown imagine.

psst you can read my other work here!

Warnings: smut smut smut and more smut and possible shitty writing, dirty talk, light choking, and some cursing.

Glossary: (y/c/n)= your cousins name + (y/m/n)= your mothers name

Request: hi!!!! if you are wrtiting for Harry please can you do one where missus and Harry are at a family party and have a quickie in the bathroom? don’t worry if it’s not speaking to you lol xxx

Normally you and your husband loved spending time with your families. Harry was always playing a balancing act between filming music videos, doing interviews, writing sessions, and an occasional date night in the house that always involved a Postmates order from your favorite restaurants and the two of you binge-watching Netflix on shuffle. As much as the both of you enjoyed stuffing your face with poke bowls from Poke Papa and watching True Crime stories, it wasn’t exactly romantic or fulfilling for the both of you, just enough to hold you over until his schedule clears up. So when Harry finally got a weekend off, you guys were ecstatic! You spent the week cleaning the house and meal prepping so no Postmates would be needed and Harry used his free time in between interviews for shopping for special toys and pretty lingerie he wanted to see you model for him. Flirty text messages were sent back and forth during small work breaks about your plans for the weekend and now all the two of you had to do was make it Saturday.

You’re not gonna like this...

The 5 words that destroyed you and Harry’s weekend plans. Anne called while you were organizing your closet and announced that her and Gemma, along with your parents and favorite cousins were coming to town to spend time with the two of you. You tried to convince her that maybe a small dinner party at that new fancy restaurant downtown would be a perfect spot for a get together but she was adamant about coming over to cook the two of you a homecooked meal. Breaking the news to Harry was the worst part, he was clearly devastated (you swore you saw the man shed a few tears). Now here you were stuffing your mouth with Anne’s famous juicy cooked duck instead of your husband's juicy di...

“(Y/N) can you pass me the mashed potatoes”

Your dad’s strong yet muffled voice interrupted your train of thought and broke you out of your horny trance as he chowed down on his meal. Pushing the dish over in your dad's direction allowed you the chance to look around and take a glance at Harry who was making small talk with one of your favorite cousins. He was wearing a black button-down shirt, of course with a few buttons loose, and his cross necklace bounced on his chest as he laughed at your cousin's crazy work stories. You focused on his fingers, his infamous rings adorned his hands, you noted that they were slightly damp from eating and the condensation on his glass cup. As you were drinking in his appearance a small damp spot was forming in your panties but given that there were too many eyewitnesses including, yours and his parents so you chose to just clamp your thighs shut and stuff your mouth with more mashed potatoes.

Harry deserved his credit as a husband. Despite his calm demeanor, he was very well aware of your little ordeal yet still managed to give interview advice to (y/c/n) and compliment your mom’s cocktail mix. He was quite amused by how increasingly frustrated you were becoming. He noted your concentrated face as you munched harshly on a string bean, hands clenching onto the fork for dear life. He decided to do a little temperature check to truly see how far gone you were.

“So what are we thinking for dessert pecan pie or crumble cake ?”, Harry questioned as he stuck his fork in his mouth, pulling it out again once all the gravy was licked clean. Your eyes finally met and you can tell that he was tossing the ball in your court, it was your job to show him how you wanted the game to be played.

“Mmm I don’t know I guess I’ll have some pecan pie but I really wish I had some pumpkin seeds”, you flatly said as you finished sipping your wine, maintaining full eye contact with him.

Pumpkin seeds. You and Harry were “outside of the box” thinkers, you had to be with his life as a celebrity not exactly pairing well with your shared sexual fantasies. You had code words to indicate to each other when you were craving the other one's touch, but you knew that using the same words around friends, family, and other public figures for too long would possibly cause some suspicion. So your code words changed with the seasons, literally. When the leaves started turning that classic golden yellow and auburn, your code words changed thus came the use of the word Pumpkin Seeds.

Gemma and your mom shared a glance, raising their eyebrows in collective confusion.

“Pumpkin seeds.. For dessert ?” Gemma finally burst out., both of your mothers soft laughter followed in the background.

“Heyyy” ,Harry pouted as he bopped Gemma on the nose with some gravy ,“ I have you know Pumpkin Seeds are one of our favorite midnight snacks”.

“Gross“, Gemma stuck out her tongue and wiped her nose. You couldn't tell whether she was referring to the gravy on her nose, your choice of midnight snacks, Harry’s smug statement followed by a wink at you, or a combination of all three.

“Well we can be concerned with dessert once we break out the baby pictures, I’ve been dying to see the infamous skinny dipping picture (y/m/n) has been telling me about”. Anne clapped her hands together and hopped out of her seat heading to the kitchen. Your mother followed behind but not before instructing you to head up to the attic to retrieve the pictures. You glanced at Harry but he seemed occupied cleaning up the dinner plates with your dad. You let out a frustrated huff and made your way up to the attic to grab the photo albums.

As you shuffled through old boxes holding Harry’s old tour outfits and your little knickknacks from your travels, you heard the attic door open.

“Pumpkin seeds huh?”, Harry lightly chuckled letting the attic door close and leaning against the door frame.

You refused to make eye contact with him, continuing to shuffle through the bins locating a few photo albums as you went , “It was only a matter of time Harry and you know it. Our weekend got stolen and we haven’t... ya know in like two weeks. So, yes Harry I want some damn pumpkin seeds.”

You let out a huff. You didn’t mean to come off so sassy and aggressive but you were frustrated… sexually. Your cousin was getting more Harry time in the 3 hour family dinner than you had gotten in the past two weeks. You stacked the photo albums gently on top of each other and cradled them in your arms, finally turning to face your husband but you didn't have to look very far. Harry had closed that gap between the two of you, gripping your face and making you look up at him causing you to drop the albums in shock.

“Well let’s get you your pumpkin seeds then”

That’s all it took and sparks turned into a flame, you and Harry’s bodies connected and a feverish makeout session broke out. You both were so hungry for each other after weeks of neglects and it just felt so damn good to finally connect. Harry’s wet kisses were making their way down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. You knew he was getting into it and normally you would be completely here for it if your kitchen wasn’t flooded with family members waiting to laugh at your baby pictures.

“Baby.. we… fuckkkkk”, You moaned out as Harry popped one of your nipples out of his mouth before moving to nip on the next one. “Baby we can’t your mom is downstairs… we have to go”, you finally let out and glanced down at your husband as pinched your nipples between his finger tips. “When has that ever stopped us”, he slyly laughs. In one swift motion, he turned you around pulling your back into his chest pulling down your skirt. You couldn’t even get words of protest out, Harry had his hands wrapped around your neck and was already freeing himself from his pants and boxers. He pulled your panties to the side and let out a hiss as he watched a string of your arousal stretch from your dripping flower to his fingers.

“Baby please just do something”, you huffed out a soft moan as you waited in anticipation. The grip around your throat tightened as he entered you, both of you letting out a sigh of relief. Harry completely bottomed out inside of you, touching that special spot that only he could. Your walls clenched around him, holding him in snug almost as if your pussy was begging him not to leave. Normally the two you were very vocal during sex from dirty talk to his loud moans and your even louder cries of pleasure. However you both knew that wasn’t possible right now and kept your moans down as much as you could. Harry was not making it easy though and the noise coming from the two of your bodies colliding were basty in the best ways possible. With every thrust of Harry’s hip you could hear your wetness coating Harry dick and as Harry picked up the speed his balls roughly tapped on your clit, only adding to your pleasure. You could barely form thoughts let alone sentence, Harry was literally fucking you silly and using your G-Spot as punching bag for his dick, The sounds and the pleasure were clearly getting to Harry as well, the grip he had on your hips grew tighter and his eyes were squeezed shut.

“Bloody fucking hell you’re so tight around me, can’t even take it”, he groans and throws his head back as he roughly draws your hips into his. It didn’t even feel like it was possible but Harry picked up the speed of his thrust continuing the assault on your poor needy pussy even further. The pleasure was all too much and that oh so familiar feeling hit the pit of your stomach and you were starting to lose your composure. Your moans were getting increasingly louder and your grip on Harry was growing tighter. Harry knew his wife and he knew your dam was getting closer and closer to breaking and he was determined to get you there. He placed a hand over your mouth and moved his other hands down to your clit rubbing it in slow circles. “ Look at you” he cooed cockily, “Taking me so fucking well like a good girl should. Barely let out a scream ‘cus you don’t want your parents to hear how much of a cock whore you are”. He knew you wouldn’t last long with the way he was talking to you and he was absolutely correct because his words were driving you insane. As the pressure was continued building up in your stomach, you felt the telling twitch in Harry’s dick that let you know he was approaching his end too.

“Gonna give me what I want uh? Gonna cum all over my cock and let me cum in that tight little pussy of yours. You gotta hold it in.. don’t want to leave any drops for our guest to find huh? Gonna be a good girl and hold all my cum in you?”, Harry grunted into your ear as you whimpered against his hands. You were seeing stars and feeling butterflies in the pit of your stomach and you knew it was only a matter of time before you both came undone.” Oh baby”, you whined and your head fell down as the pressure from your stomach finally was released as your orgasm spilled out all over Harry’s dick and thighs. The gushing feeling from your orgasm and your weak whimpers and cries drove Harry overboard, burying his face in your neck and his roughly groaning as he released inside of you. The two of you stayed connected for a bit, thighs stuck together thanks to your shared orgasm with Harry’s arm wrapped around your waist supporting both of your weights up as you composed yourselves. When he finally pulled out of you, you kept every drop he gave you tucked inside your tight walls just as promised.

“So those Pumpkin Seeds huh”

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years ago

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//ready player two. kozume kenma//

Request: Gamer bf Kenma where gamer gf is struggling to defeat a final boss and Kenma pulls her in his laps and helps her defeat it

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.1K

Notes: i simply had to do this one bc your bitch just ordered Risk of Rain 2 and i’m S O E X C I T E D gamer bf kenma pls come help me beat mithrix ;-;

Your eyes had been trained on the screen for what felt like hours, knees pulled to your chest and your fingers moved expertly over the controls, headphones pulled down over your ears so the sounds of you ruthlessly murdering monsters wouldn’t bother him while he tried to complete his school work. But, the sun of the afternoon that had once flooded his room with natural light, had now faded into inky blackness, the only light came from his desk lamp and the flashes of color from the television stream. He had heard your curses and grumbles of frustration slowly increase as the time ticked by and the death counter slowly climbed.

He could hear the clicking of the buttons furiously beneath your fingers as you moved your avatar through the level once more, shooting down any bad guys that came in your path, collecting loot and xp to give you a greater advantage over the final boss. But, it still wasn’t enough. Because after about fifteen minutes, he heard the clicking stop and you leaned backwards, a heavy groan that mixed frustration and anguish left your lips as you laid back on his floor, letting the controller fall to the floor. You weren’t even sure how long you had been sitting there, long enough for your backside to begin to ache and long enough for Kenma to finally shut the cover of his math book as he circled the answer to the final problem.

Your boyfriend slowly turned around his chair to take a good look at your defeated form, the game over screen staring almost painfully in your face and by your blank expression as you stared up at the ceiling, he could guess that this was not the first one that you had experienced. “This game sucks,” you grumble.

“Is that why you've been playing for the past four hours?” he teased, moving to lay on his bed so that he could look at your face.

“I don’t want to talk about it. . .”

Kenma gave you a smile, something that became less and less rare during your time with him. You, by no means, were bringing him out of his shell or making him any less of an introvert, but even he couldn’t deny the wave of comfort that washed over him anytime you were around. You could hold his hand and all of his worries would instantly melt away, focusing on the feeling of your skin against his. Kenma had never been one for physical touch, but there was just something about holding your back square to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you both hold onto your respective controllers, tapping away at buttons, that made him like the idea of contact just a little more. Blankets and sweaters were great, but you were an addiction that he never wanted to quit. It never failed that he felt like a whole new person whenever he was with you, something that maybe only Kuroo had made him feel before. But, he found that he enjoyed being able to let smiles spread across his lips and that he wanted his stomach to hurt from laughing as you both breathlessly wheezed on his bedroom floor. But, he also found that he liked the way your lips melded so perfectly with his, your hands gripping his arms as if he would disappear into nothingness if you let go. He liked how nicely your head fit into the crook of his neck whenever you curled into him for a nap, your soft snores becoming his favorite background noise.

You released a heavy sigh as you sat back up, taking the controller back between your hands for another go at the level that had taken you down so many times. “Tenth times the charm, right?”

Kenma simply hummed, taking a spot next to you on the floor, leaning forward to grab the second controller from the shelf. “I’ll take the player two spot.” He leans back so he’s nestled against his bed, one hand reaching out towards your waist, his silent signal for you to move closer. Without any further prompting, you took your seat in his lap, his arms instinctively wrapping around you to hold his controller while his chin settled on your shoulder to be able to view the screen.

You lean against his chest, feeling the rise and fall with each breath he takes. His forearms are rested against your thighs, tracing small shapes into the skin with his fingers while he waits for you to press start. But, as soon as the game begins, he’s zeroed in, thumbs rapidly pushing the different buttons to maneuver his avatar through the stage, killing enemies that would have resulted in another loss for you, muttering quiet tips on how to better use your attacks depending on the enemy type, which items were worth your time and which you should just leave behind.

“There we go, angel,” he says as the stage ends and you’re both taken to the lair of the final boss. “You got this. I’m right behind you to help you out, okay?” He tilts his head up to place a soft kiss to your cheek. Whenever the two of you sat like this, he was always really glad that you could never see just how red his cheeks turned whenever he would press his lips to your skin.

You just nodded, pressing the button that would take your avatars into the resting place of the boss. The cutscene played before your eyes and, almost immediately, the two of you were locked in a ferocious battle, mashing buttons to evade and attack, heal and defend, trying your very best to finally make it out alive. The heightened intensity of the music drew you both in, keeping your eyes fixated on the screen as if you were both physically engaged in the fight.

It was only when the sound of the boss’ defeat sang through your ears and the tune switched to something a little more cheery as the credits rolled across the screen did you turn in your boyfriend’s lap, throwing your arms around his neck in glee. “We did it! Kenma, we did it!”

“We? You carried that boss fight.” While his words might’ve had their typical monotonous demeanor, there was no hiding the soft smile on his lips as he looked up at you, eyes shining brightly with your accomplishment.

“Thanks for being my player two, Kenma.”

{Taglist: @moncymonce @nicka-nell @celosiiaa @lovinnoya @kuronekomama }

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addictofsupernatural · 5 years ago

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Emotions (pt. 3)

Billy Hargrove x reader

Summary: Billy helps y/n make a list of what she needs to do and learn in her life.

Word Count: 2305

Chapter 1 • Series Masterlist • Chapter 4

"So what are we gonna do next?"

"I don't know. There's a lot of things that I've never done." You said. You both decided that he would come over tomorrow. After the call ended you buried your face in a pillow from excitement. Your face was hot and you couldn't stop smiling. You don't fully understand this feeling; it's one that you've never had before, but you love it.

The next day you heard a knock on the door and practically flew to it. You opened it with a big smile on your face, but your smile quickly faded as you saw a bruise on Billy's jawline. You reached for it, Billy looking down and watching you. "Billy, are you okay?"

He put his hand over yours as you gently grazed the purple patch of skin. "Course doll. Can I come in?"

You sadly smiled and nodded, although not too convinced that Billy was okay. He came in and looked around. It was small and old, but also cozy and had a home feeling to it. You both passed El's room, seeing her make out with some kid. You looked at Billy mischievously before kicking the door, causing the kid to shoot up and hit his shin on the bed. "Not cool five!"

You snickered as Billy tried his best to contain his laughter. That kid's face was just too priceless. You both get to your room and leave the door a crack open. You then get out a piece of paper and a pen, writing down all that Billy insists you have to experience. You were both laughing together when Hopper opened the door. "Hey. Just uh, checking in. Making sure everything's okay." He said, then muttering, "Y'know, keeping it PG and all."

Mike then passed by Hopper, stopping right behind him. You saw the time, and knew Mike would have Hopper take him home right about now. "I don't know Hopper, I think you might have to be careful. Billy Hargrove is the town's bad boy."

You stared at Mike, wide eyed. You then looked at Hopper and smiled. "That's strange, because his tongue has been in his mouth the whole time he's been here, but I can't say the same for Mike. Isn't that just the strangest thing?"

Billy bit his lip to hide his smile, although failing miserably. Mike had his mouth hanging open as Hopper gripped him by his shirt and dragged him out the door. "Y'know, for a sweet little thing like yourself, you got a wicked mouth on you doll."

You looked at him, uneasy. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Hell no. It's badass." You beamed and giggled, scooted closer to him. "Alright, now we gotta do all the things on this list."

You both agreed on what to do that day, leaving a note and grabbing the things you needed. You said goodbye to El and went to the car. Before Billy could start the car, you put a hand over his. "Um, I try to be honest with you about my life." You two stared at each other for a moment, before you gently ran your hand over the bruise on his jaw. "Friends don't lie."

He stared into your eyes, and though he didn't know why, he felt safe to talk to you about this. Friends don't lie. Billy couldn't recall if he actually had a real friend then. "Just a small fight with my old man, that's all." He muttered. "Saw Damien on my bed and called me a fag. He tried to throw it away and I wouldn't let him."

You took your hand away and stared at him with sad eyes. "This is my fault." You stated.

"Sweetheart no." He grabbed your hand, kissing your palm and settling it on his cheek. "I chose to fight him. That's on me. From now on I'm gonna hide him in my room. Right now I just wanna have a nice day with my favorite girl, okay?"

You gave him a small smile at the compliment and nodded. As Billy drove you quietly said, "Hey Billy," He nodded his head to show he was listening. "I think you're my favorite guy."

He flashed you a big charming smile. "Think, huh?" You giggled.

You looked down at yourself, uncomfortable. You weren't used to showing this much skin, and you certainly weren't used to wearing something without anything under. You stepped out of the Hawkins pool locker room and timidly walked towards Billy. "Maybe we shouldn't do this. I feel people staring at me."

Billy turned around after getting two towels to look at you, and he wasn't prepared for what he saw. You had your hair up in a high pony tail, letting him be able to see your face clearly. Your cheeks were flushed and your eyes sparkled in the sun. You were hugging your body, in a one piece that was snug in all the right places.

"Well would you look at that?" He leaned against the counter, smirking as he looked you over again. "Aren't you just the prettiest thing? People are staring because of how great you look. Lucky me, I got to you before anyone else could snag you."

You bashfully looked down and smiled. Billy took your hand and led you to a pool chair where he sat you down and applied sunblock on you. As he did this, he listened to you babble on about how you almost went to a pool with El's friends before but then canceled because something happened with El that led to a lot of bad stuff that you didn't elaborate on.

"So you don't know how to swim then?" Billy asked. You shook your head. "All done. C'mon, you're gonna learn today."

You both went into the water, and Billy had you hook your arms around his neck while he swam to the deep end. At first you were nervous and didn't want to let go, but Billy insisted that it was okay and that he had you.

You got the hang of it fairly quickly, and the two of you were enjoying yourselves at the pool. A group of moms were glaring at you, and you caught bits and pieces of what they were saying.

Billy...girl...freak...ugly...body...

You could hear their snickering. You suddenly felt weird about your yourself. It was a new feeling, and it made you want to hide yourself from everyone. You suddenly felt a pair of hands under water bring you to Billy's muscular chest. "Don't pay attention to them." He murmured. "They ain't got nothing better to do."

You hung out at the pool for about another hour before you both went back to your home. He then told you that there was a party tonight, which was also on your list. Later on as you got ready, Billy called you with a gruffy sounding voice. You heard yelling in the background. He asked to come over, and you said yes.

About ten minutes later you heard a knock at the door and opened it. Billy had a leather jacket on and a dark red button down shirt with a few buttons undone. He looked down at your outfit, with your red skirt and cropped white long sleeved shirt. It looked perfect and adorable on you. "Billy!" You hugged him. "Are you okay?"

He looked down at you and smiled. "Yeah, just my old man again. Don't worry about it."

You frowned. "That won't stop me from worrying. But come in, I made food for Hopper and El." As he stepped inside your house, he couldn't help but feel warmer. This house had warmth in it, the type of warmth that Billy's house could never have. Billy was pulled out of his thoughts as you gently grabbed his arm, coming closer to him. "Um, I think you should know that we're a bit strange. And El is a little shy."

He nodded, completely understanding. You didn't want him to be offended if your little sister was not as instantly warm as you. You called out that dinner was ready and served yourself. The other two came out of their rooms to serve themselves, all while staring at Billy. "You can serve yourself too." You smiled as you handed him an empty plate. You made meatloaf with mashed potatoes and red rice.

Hopper took out another small table and pushed it with the one that was already there, pulling up a chair as well. You and Billy sat on one side while Hopper and El sat on the other. When they weren't looking, Billy buttoned up his shirt some more. "It's nice to meet you both." Billy said politely, knowing how to act in front of others. He's had practice.

"Yeah, you too." Hopper forced out.

The conversation was not going anywhere, so you stepped in. "El, Billy's from California." Eleven had a map of the country in her room, secretly wishing she could go travel somewhere other than Hawkins.

She looked up, interested. "Ocean?"

Billy nodded. "Lots of ocean."

"Pretty?"

Billy flashed a grin. "Real pretty, sunshine." Eleven smiled.

You stared at your plate and smiled. El liked him. Hopper couldn't help but feel less tense at the way Billy was making an effort to make them like him. He began to tell El about the times he's gone to the beach with his old friends.

Everybody at the table enjoyed what Billy was saying. The one who enjoyed this the most was Billy. He's never had this. He's never had a nice dinner, where everyone talks to each other comfortably. It's always quiet, with Susan going on and on about her day. He felt wanted here. And the food was actually fucking good.

After everyone was finished you began to wash the dishes. As you did, Hopper took Billy aside. "So, um, I just wanted to let you know that I'm trusting you with my daughter, and that's kind of a big deal."

Billy felt a twinge of pride. "Thank you sir."

"Just, uh, be back by 10, and," Hopper scratched the back of his head, worried about entrusting his daughter's safety to someone else. "Keep her safe."

Billy nodded. "I will sir."

You slipped on your shoes and told Billy that you were ready to go. As the two of you walked outside and to his car, Hopper and El came out. "Bye Billy." El said, waving with a small smile.

"Bye sunshine." Her smile grew a bit wider.

When you got to the house Billy took your hand and led you inside. He then got the two of you drinks. You took a swig, wincing. "This tastes horrible."

Billy nodded, chuckling. "It's for the effect, not the taste. I'll get you something a little less grown up." You understood the joking mannerism in his voice, and gently pushed his shoulder with a smile before letting him go off again.

As you waited you felt a heavy hand on your shoulder. You turned around and saw an unfamiliar drunk face. "Hey, what are you doing by yourself?" He slurred.

"Um, waiting for Billy to come back." You said wearily. You considered using your powers to knock him out. You knew you shouldn't use it in a public place, but you had a bad feeling about him.

"Billy Hargrove?" He took a step forward, to which you took a step back. "What are you doing with him?"

"He's good company." You said in a monotone voice. He kept on walking towards you.

"I bet I can be better company sweetheart."

You backed up into a hard chest. You turned around to see Billy, drinks in hands and staring straight at the drunk teenager. "You don't get to call her that."

"Billy-"

"Get behind me y/n." He didn't take his eyes off the guy, handing the drinks to you and stepping forward.

"You think you're the shit, huh California? You think you could just steal all the bitches, huh?"

Billy wiped his mouth, pointing at him. "What the hell did you just call her?"

You quickly set the drinks down on the counter and stepped in between the two. "Forget about it, please. It's my first party, remember?" You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Let's dance."

He glanced at the drunken teen before looking back at you. He stared at you for a moment before chuckling. "Whatever you want doll."

The two of you left the frustrated, drunk teenager and went to the living room, where he pressed your body to his, putting his hands to your hips as you rested your head on his chest.

"You should be more careful." He said after a moment of silence.

You lifted your head. "I know. But I'll have you, so I'm not worry." He happily looked down at you, making a mental note to kick the crap out of that guy another day.

After you danced you two talked to other people, Billy snatching you every time a guy got too friendly. Later you told him that you wanted to go, and so the two of you drove off, you telling him which way to go.

You parked in a field, where there was a pond on the other end. "Is this the part where something bad happens?" Billy joked.

You smiled and shook your head, looking out at the view. "When I escaped with El, we found this place, and just sat down to take in everything." You got out of the car and opened up his car door, grabbing his hand and leading him into the field, sitting down with him.

The two of you were sitting together, just talking about random things. He told you that he'd never had a trust worthy friend before, and you told him that you've never been around someone who was so focused on you. You both taught each other on this day that this was what having a true friend felt like.

---

Tag List:

@roxytheimmortal @shane-isa-shame @actuallyazriel @tanovic54321 @chipster-21 @jula-bear

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy stranger things #stranger things billy #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #stranger things fandom #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things billy hargrove

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ayatosmlktea · 5 years ago

Note

Is it possible for you to do a royal au? Where king Levi is in love with one of his servants (reader) but she keeps on pushing it away bc she knows itll taint his name and doesnt want to cause him any trouble even if she does love him in return. But u know Levi, he dont care about anything and tries to tell her that it doesnt matter what everyone else thinks and she agrees to be his ❤

A/N: I love this idea so much!!!!!!

𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝑨𝒇𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒔 ❤️

“Y/N wait up!” She turns around to findJean running after her his arms carrying what looked like clothes.

“His royal crankiness asked me to tell you to bring him his evening tea.”

“Jean don’t call him that! Someone could hear you.” Y/N scolds but can’t help chuckling at the blond’s nickname for Levi. Rolling his eyes he shoves the clothes into her hands.

“Yeah yeah, weird how he’s always asking for your though. Something going on between you two?” She feels her cheeks heat up as he wiggles his eyebrows micheivously at her.

“O-Of course not! He’s the King, Jean. I’m just a servant, besides it’s not my fault if I do your job better than you.” He rolls his eyes playfully shoving her shoulder.

“Whatever Y/N, you’d better hurry up he seemed pretty impatient. See you later!” Jean waves his goodbyes, disappearing around the corner as she makes her way to Levi’s room, knowing she could bring him the tea later. Their secret relationship was thrilling, albeit risky at times sometimes she couldn’t believe that someone as powerful as him could want to be with her but Levi always reminded her of how special she was to him. She felt butterflies fluttering around her stomach, they hadn’t had a chance to see each other privately for a few days and she missed his presence.

“Tch, took you long enough.” Locking the door behind her she feels her mouth water as she takes in his appearance. He’d obviously just gotten out of the bath, his hair still damp water droplets running down his bare chest and his towel hanging dangerously low. Smirking at her expression he strides over cradling her face in his hands as he leans down.

“God I missed you.” His lips capture hers, her fingers immediately tangling themselves in his hair as the forgotten clothes drop to the floor.

Humming softly to herself, Y/N adjusts her dress and makes her way to her quarters for the night. She smiles softly, biting her lip as she recalls their…passionate evening together.

“I think it’s time he finally finds a wife. The kingdom needs a queen.” One of Levi’s advisors complains, instantly Y/N feels her heart drop into her stomach.

“I agree. He needs someone of noble reputation, not some air headed servant girl.” Well so much for it being a secret. Their words twist in her gut like a knife, she loved Levi but knew that they could never actually become a public item because of his status. Making up her mind she trudges back to her room feeling her heart breaking.

Y/N tries to hide her blush as she sets Levi’s dinner in front of him, his fingers brushing along the length of her inner arm. She pulls back quickly before any of the other servants see their King affectionately stroking her arm knowing their gossip would spread to others in town. Clicking his tongue in annoyance he leans back in his chair, his expressionless eyes narrowing into slits.

“Y/N what is this shit table setting? I thought you were taught better than that.” His sudden voice startles her and she instinctively moves away from him hanging her head in embarrassment. Swiping his finger under the edge of the table he brings it closer to his face.

“And what is this? Dust?” The other servants in the room turn to stare at her in shock. Each one of them knew how picky Levi was about keeping the castle clean, especially the dining room. Her palms start to sweat as she finds herself unable to respond or look up at him.

“Tch, everyone out. Except you.” He orders cooly, getting up he bars the door and loosens the first few buttons of his dress shirt. Y/N can’t help but gulp in anticipation, she knew what was coming. For the last few weeks she had started distancing herself from Levi, not wanting to ruin his reputation with her own. He was the King and she was just a poor servant girl. What would the people say if it was made public that he was involved with someone who had nothing and who had come from nothing. His eyes are predatory as he backs her up against the edge of the table his arms on either side preventing her from escaping.

“You’ve been avoiding me Y/N, why?” He asks leaving a trail of kisses up her neck. She bites her lip to stifle a moan, out of habit she moves her head to the side giving him more room but stops herself quickly as his advisors words float around her mind.

“I’ve been busy Sir, I apologize the table setting was messy.” She gulps refusing to meet his prying eyes.

“There’s nothing wrong with the damn table setting brat. I miss you.” His hands grip her waist bringing her body flush against his. She leans into the warmth radiating from his body inhaling the smell of his cologne, it had been a while since they had been this close and while her mind was screaming at her to pull away her body wanted him more. Bracing her hands against his shoulders she tries to collect her thoughts and ignore the hand snaking its way up the front of her dress to cup her face.

“I think it’s best if we stop seeing each Sir.” Her words make him freeze, his eyes narrowing as he grabs her chin and forces her to look at him.

“Didn’t I tell you to drop the ‘sir’ shit when we’re alone?” His face is dangerously closer to hers, she wants nothing more than to close the gap between them and kiss him but she can’t.

“You have a reputation to maintain Levi. You can’t just keep screwing around with some stupid servant. There’s no future for you there.” She forces herself to be harsh, to harden her heart against the feelings of love that had wormed their way in.

“Bullshit. I don’t give a fuck about my reputation and you know that! I love you Y/N and if you can’t see it yet then you’re just as blind as you are beautiful.” Typical of Levi to insult her while complimenting her and damn her traitor heart for beating faster.

“Levi, please! Think about it rationally. You have a kingdom to run, a bloodline to continue. I can’t offer you anything!” Batting away the hand on her chin she tries to put distance between them, which was challenging as he effortlessly shoved her back against the table, his body towering over hers. She feels her eyes start to well up with angry tears, why was he making this so hard? Why couldn’t he just accept that they weren’t meant to be together and go find some rich princess to marry?

“I am thinking rationally, idiot! You’re the one whose brains have gone to shit. When have I ever cared about your background?” No longer wanting to play this dragged out game of cat and mouse Levi beings to lose his temper, like hell he was going to let her go because of something so trivial as where she came from.

“When have I ever made you feel like I don’t love you? My future means shit if you’re not in it. You’re the only one I want and I know you want me too so stop trying to convince yourself that you’re doing this for me. It’s fine if you’re scared, but if you’re going to let everything we have together go because you think I care about the opinion of my shitty advisors then you obviously don’t know me very well.”

Y/N feels her self control evaporate and she lunges forward. Her hands balling up the material of his shirt, mashing their lips together in a hard kiss. Levi groans into her mouth his hand coming back up to cradle the back of her head, their noses brushing against each other. His tongue swipes along her bottom lip and she complies parting her lips as he maps out her mouth like he’d done many times before. Her teeth pull on his bottom lip making him growl and grab her hip roughly. His lips were fire against her skin, igniting an insatiable need to have him closer to her. Levi moves down to her neck sucking harshly on her soft skin, her hands move up to grab fistfuls of his hair as she gasps loudly.

“Levi don’t, people will see.” She pants as his teeth graze over her sensitive skin the mixture of pain and pleasure was intoxicating as he continues to mark her neck. Pulling back to admire his work he places a soft kiss against the large red hickey.

“I’m sure they already know Y/N, you’re not exactly quiet.” He chuckles placing another gentle kiss on her lips.

“Are you sure you want to be with me? People talk you know.” Her voice is quiet not wanting to ruin the mood.

“I don’t care. I want you, all of you. Forever.” Y/N buries her face into the crook of his neck smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. How could she ever doubt his feelings for her?

“Oh! Your dinner is cold now!” She exclaims pulling back to find him smirking playfully.

“I guess you’re just going to have to bring me some more later then.” Batting her eyelashes lustfully she leans forward to whisper in his ear.

“I think I can do that.”

Part 2

Masterlist

#attack on titan #levi ackerman #aot #levi x reader #aot x reader #snk #snk x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan blog #levi attack on titan #aot au #reader insert #requests

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fahhhhq · 5 years ago

Text

Similar but Worlds Apart: Part 5

Fandom: Narcos + Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Pairing: Reader x Javier Peña // Reader x Jack Daniels a.k.a Agent Whiskey

WaRniGs: Sexy timeeeeee! Cursing. Smutty smut.

Words: 3.8k

Summary: While on search for your partner, who also happens to be your love, your trip takes an odd turn when you come face-to-face with the twin of your partner. Twins that have no idea that the other one exists. And when feelings get involved, it’s up to you to choose, or not.

If you’re new here, start hereee: Part uno, Part kinda dos, Part tres, Part cuatro,

You had officially been in Colombia for almost two weeks now; still searching for Jack and still developing unwanted feelings for Javier. After the night that you told Javier about what you were doing in Colombia, the topic hadn’t been brought up since then. You had had dinner almost every night. Sometimes it was too late, so you would leave food outside his apartment with a note saying what you had either bought him or made him food. He would slide a thank you note under your door every morning after you did that. And you would always see the note slide in from the other side with a smile and a hot coffee on your hand. It had become a “thing.”

That night he had promised that he would make it for dinner. You had told him that it wasn’t a big deal, that if he had stuff to do, then to do it, but he insisted that he would make it. You wanted to see him, too. Every time he missed dinner, or something came up on his day off, you waited anxiously until he was back. You were fucked.

There was a knock at your door and your stomach dropped.

You opened the door and there Javier was, leaning against the doorframe with a hand on his hip. His beautiful brown hair showing hints of caramel when the light hit it.

“Hey,” you say, not hiding the smile on your face. You open the door wider so that he can go inside, and he does, but his face is serious. “You OK?”

He sniffs the air, “You cooked?”

“Yeah!” You smile once more and go to the kitchen. You grab a glass of whiskey and bring it to him.

Javier gladly takes it and takes a sip, “Wow, that’s good.”

You take a sip yourself, the whiskey elegantly burning your throat, not leaving a fiery taste behind, just oaky and smooth. “It’s from where I live at the moment, Kentucky.”

“You mean, Statesman?” he’s serious when he speaks, putting emphasis on Statesman.

“Have I already given you some, or have you had this whiskey before?” you ask confused as for his attitude.

“I know,” Javier says and sits down on your couch then leans forward. “I had someone look you up at work.”

You’re confused, why would he do that. “Why did you do that? And what do you know…?”

“I know that you work here,” he motions to the glass of whiskey in his hand, “and that you're not who you say you are.”

He must had been talking about your fake background. That person, your fake self, worked for Statesmen yes, but as a receptionist, and that person was also a recent graduate of the University of Kentucky, was from California and had two dogs, and was hoping to be a veterinary one day, so definitely not you. You were a badass agent who worked for a spy agency who took down bad guys. You had been to college, but not in Kentucky, and you had a masters, in kicking ass. The veterinary job was your idea. You always wanted to help animals, cure them, but you never got the chance. So that was the alternative.

As Javier stares at you expectantly, you go sit down next to him. “I do work there. And no, I’m not from where it says in those papers, I’m from southern California I told you that.”

His brow’s burrow, “You keep lying to me.” He stands and finishes his whiskey, and it looks like he wants to leave, but he stays standing.

You stand and walk to him, stopping only inches from him, “I wasn’t lying to you, Javier, I do work for Statesmen, but I’m not a receptionist like it said in the folder that was probably given to you,” you walk over to the side table by the door and grab your gun from under some newspapers that were deliberate put on top of and you hold it up, “Would a receptionist carry a beauty like this?”

You hold up the gun, press the button to release the magazine, catch it, pull the slide, the bullet that was in the chamber pops up, you catch it swiftly, and stare at Javier with a smirk on your face, “I’m Agent Vino, baby.”

Javier’s eyebrows shot up, “I’m guessing there’s more where that came from.”

You smile wickedly, “You have no idea, I’m the best with a gun.” You put the gun on top of the coffee table and grab your cup. “I made dinner; can we continue this talk while we eat?”

He doesn’t say anything, he just walks to the kitchen table, which is now clean of your paperwork, and sits. You head to the kitchen and prepare two plates filled with two steaks, mashed potatoes, green beans and coleslaw. You set the plates in the table and ask Javier, “Do you want more whiskey or a beer?”

“Beer and the bottle,” he points to his empty glass. You go for the beers and bottle and you feel butterflies in your stomach. You had felt them the whole day, and now they were more sadistic.

Once you settle down, and begin to eat, you turn to Javier and begin to speak, “After all this time I thought you trusted me.”

He puts his fork down and takes a sip of his beer, “I work somewhere where I can’t trust anyone, Y/N,” he wipes his mouth, “I do trust you, but I just had to do it.”

You pop a piece of steak into your mouth and speak between bites, “Like really, you think I can pass for a tree-hugging receptionist?”

Javier smiles, his dimple showing, “Not really, you're a headcase.”

“Eh,” you shrug and pop another piece of steak into your mouth.

“So, you really are an agent for a spy agency?” he asks.

You get up and grab a badge from a drawer near the dinning table, “This is the only thing that I can show someone from the law that might be interfering in a dangerous mission. So, here,” you hand him the badge that has your agent number and the name of your agency, “You're part of the law, I can safely show you this.”

He looks it over, “This is real.”

You take it from him, “I never lied to you.”

“Fine, I believe you, sit down,” he looks at your chair then at you. You do as he say, and your stomach does a little summersault by the demand.

“Yes, sir,” you say. “Did you like dinner?”

He wipes his mouth, leans back and rubs his belly, his baby-blue shirt stretching from his stomach, “You can definitely cook a mean steak.”

“I know,” you wink and drink more whiskey, “so now that you know almost everything about me, what don’t I know about you?”

He rubs his chin, pouting, “I almost got married once.”

“oh, what happened?” you ask as you pour Javier more whiskey and hand the glass to him.

He takes it, “I realized that I wasn’t going to do good by her and left the morning of the wedding. I couldn’t imagine her sticking around anyways, she wanted to start a family and wanted to continue with my career.”

“Do you think you made a good decision?”

He looks at you, “Yes.”

You just nod and drink the two-fingers of whiskey left in your glass. “Well, in my opinion, I believe everything happens for a reason, so maybe you weren't supposed to marry her, or anyone else for that matter.”

“Wow…” he looks wounded.

You laugh and pick up the plates, “I don’t mean it in a bad way, you just seem like marriage is not for you.” You place the plates in the sink and go back to the dinning are, “You’ll be a hoe for the rest of your life.”

He chuckles, the crow’s feet around his eyes become more pronounced, and the indent of his dimples make him look like a little kid.

After you clean and head to the living room with a glass almost completely filled with whiskey, you turn on some “oldies” as their called and sit down next to Javier. You clink glasses with him and relax back into the couch

“So, do you have any leads on where your partner is?”

“No,” you look at him, trying to imagine that you're actually siting next to Jack. “I had gotten a lead two weeks ago.”

“When we met,” he states, taking a sip of his drink.

“Yes. I had gotten intel that he was seen here in Colombia, so I was sent here to look for him.”

“And I’m guessing you haven’t found him,” he says motioning to the empty apartment.

You look at him, wishing you could tell him that you did kind of find him, but you couldn’t. At least not in that moment, he wouldn’t believe you. “No, I haven’t found him, I’m at a dead end actually.”

“And what are you going to do?” he asks with what sounds like hope in his voice.

You sigh, so many things going through your mind. “Go back home.”

He nods and drinks the whiskey like it’s a shot, “When?”

You shrug, “I don’t know.” He hums, understanding your conundrum. But you decide that you don’t want to think and talk about this subject, because well, it makes you sad, “Let’s not talk about me leaving, what do you say we get drunk?”

You fill your glass and then his. He raises a brow and displays his dimple, “You think you can go head-to-head with me?”

“Oh, baby, I've been asked that so many times that at the end they wonder why they asked such a stupid question.”

“Salud pues,” he says and you clink glasses. After that sip, you feel a bit tipsy, and the butterflies don’t cease.

An hour later you guys were almost at the drunk mark. Brenton Wood was now playing a little louder and both of you were feeling the beat. You were in a muscle shirt, ripped jeans and barefoot, like a true southern Californian girl. He was in his baby-blue short-sleeve shirt, in his tight jeans and cowboy boots. All your insides were warm and dizzy with desire.

“Come on,” you grab Javier’s hand and pull it as you stand. “Let’s dance to Oogum Boogum.”

He pulls back, “I’m not huge on the dancing.”

You let go of his hand and cross the coffee table. You begin to sing along with Brenton Wood and dance, “Come on, I promise I won’t tell anyone that you don’t know how to dance.”

He begrudgingly stands and finishing his whiskey, “Fine, but just cause I’m drunk, and I really like Brenton Wood.”

Javier gets closer to you, his predatory walk only making you hotter and a bit sweaty. He sway’s his hips to the beat as he extends his hand towards you and you grab it. You lift your hands so he can twirl, and he does. Very clumsily, but he looks adorable. You both laugh and continue to dance, letting the stress of not being able to find Jack wash away, because in a sense, you were with him, right?

Gimmie a Little Sign starts to play and both of you begin to sing to it in unison, “Just gimmie me some kind of sign, girl, oh my baby, to show me that you're mine, girl, oh yeah!” He pulls you in and you crash against his chest. When the bridge of the song plays you grab his other hand and dance, pulling him towards you, too. Javier twirls you and then you twirl him, both of you laughing and enjoying your buzz.

When that song ends, I Like the Way You Love Me begins to play. The tempo slows down and you both your laughter’s subsided. You lean into him and begin to slowly sway. You lean your head against his and just wave from side to side. His right hand placed on your lower back, cradling you, holding you like if he doesn’t want to let go. You inhale his scent, making you dizzier and wetter. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhales and chills run all over your body.

Then he begins to softly sing, you feel his voice reverberate against your chest as he sings in your ear: “And I like the way you thrill me, oh, girl, Well, you thrill me to my soul, And I like, I like it all so, And I tell myself that deep inside, I could never let you go.”

You pull back and look at him. When your eyes meet, your breath becomes a bit faster and harder. And something sparks between the two of you, some deep understanding that doesn’t require words. You both lean in at the same time. Your mouths colliding into each other, and all the desire that you had been harboring for the past two weeks took control over all of your senses. He pushes you against the wall using his body. You collapse with a thump and all you can feel is his hands and mouth all over you.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you,” Javier’s voice is lower, huskier, sexier.

You kiss him again, harder, “Me too,” you say panting. His mouth crashes into yours again and as he pushes you harder into the wall, his hands go down you back, past your ass, stopping and lifting you up, all while not removing his lips from yours.

Javier carries you to your room and puts you on your bed, you stand in front of him and keeping eye-contact, you lift your muscle shirt over your head, unbuckle your jeans and let them slide down your legs. You step out of them and look at him eagerly, “I showed you mine, now show me yours.”

His crocket smile makes you whimper, “Yeah? And then what?” he asks and then begins to take off his shirt. Your eyes skim his body, already noticing that he’s as excited as you are.

You reach behind your back and unclasp your bra, letting it fall down to the floor, then your panties follow, “And then you’re gonna fuck me like its our last day on earth.”

“Fuck me…” he breaths when his eyes roam your body, making you shiver. You don’t even feel self-conscious about your tummy and your thunder-thighs because you know that you're a fucking badass who can have a gut and still kick some serious ass.

When you see that he was commando, you weren't surprised, Jack always went commando, too. You shake your head and eject him from your thoughts. Guilt is the last thing you needed in that moment.

He leans in slowly and takes your face between his hands, “You’re fucking beautiful.”

You quiver under his gaze and take his mouth. Javier lifts you again and falls on top of you. He begins to kiss you all over, traveling lower and lower with each kiss. You want him to put his hands on your breasts…and he does, caressing them with the perfect amount of pressure. You get wetter and wetter with each stroke. He travels lower and you can feel his hot breath getting closer and closer to the middle of your legs. When he reaches his destination, your body is now his to do whatever he wants. Your back begins to arch and your legs to shake. Your hands begin to grip the sheets relentlessly, then Javier’s head.

You gasp when he begins to work his tongue harder and his thump join. You're breathless, panting, a tear escapes and you just want to release but he stops, and when you can’t imagine any more please, he comes up from where he was, already with a condom on. And then you feel him at your entrance. You gaze deeply into each other’s eyes, and you feel a whole new wave of pleasure when he enters you. You let out a small gasp and Javier grunts a “fuck” and everything blurs with sensations.

“You're so fucking tight,” Javier groans into your ear, “fuck.” You gurgle against his neck as he rocks into you with a deliberate pace. His mouth returns to yours and its as if you missed it, because now you feel in sync.

Soon, everything fades until all you can feel is your entwined bodies fitting perfectly together, pulsing as one. Peaking at the same time. The sweat of each of your bodies making you slick and making your rhythm leisurelier but hotter.

You wrap your legs around Javier’s wait as you feel a tightening in your lower stomach and your toes begin to curl.

“Fuck,” you breathe, and Javier covers your mouth with his. Taking in your gasps. “Fuck...” you breathe while he kisses you.

He bites your jaw and purrs into your ear, and with his deep husky voice he says, “Let go, baby.”

And you do, hard. You tighten your hold of his back, the hold of his hips with your thighs, the walls of your pussy tightening all over his dick. “Ahh,” you gasp and mumble.

Javier tightens his grip of your hair, groans into your neck and comes.

Both you just lay there for a few minutes without talking. Javier’s body on top of yours and the weight doesn’t bother you. You feel at ease. Your shaking and jelly legs begin to fade away, and you feel as relaxed as ever. One of your hands is in Javier’s hair, while the other caresses his back.

He lifts his head. His eyes are glossy and dreamy. “What?” you ask him in a small voice.

He caresses your face and you close your eyes, taking in his touch. “Don’t leave.”

You open your eyes and see sadness in his, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, I mean, don’t go back to Kentucky,” he passes a thumb over your lower lip and then gives you a tender kiss.

Your heart then breaks with his words. Of course, you had to leave. You had a job, someone waiting for you back home, kind of, and you couldn’t leave it.

You reach up and move his hair away from his forehead, “I have to, but im not going anywhere, I’m yours right now. So, let’s just relish whatever we have right now, yeah?”

He nods and kisses you deeper. And then you feel him get harder against your thigh. You give him a devilish smile, “Already? I thought you would need more time, old man.”

He lifts an eyebrow, “I’m only 41, I’m like two twenty year olds,” he pushes up from you, gets off the bed, you hear a rip and then he heads to you again.

“Now what?” you giggle and squirm. He leans down, wraps an arm around your waist and with one swift move he flips you, you yelp and laugh. He grabs your hips and pulls them up to him until his sex pistol is against you. You’re now on all fours.

He leans down against your back and whispers against your ear, kneading your ass, “Now, I have a question for you.”

Your stomach does a somersault and you titter, “What’s that?”

He reaches to the front and rubs your clit, you whimper, “Have you ever had a real Texan in you?”

You have no time to reply a “yes” when he grabs you by your hair and enters you. Both of you exclaim at the same time. He fits you like a glove. Hitting just the right places at just the right time. Nothing on your mind, only the sensation and satisfaction that you're feeling with Javier inside of you.

You hear his grunting and groaning and that only gets you closer and closer. “Faster,” you say.

“Fuck,” he says but doesn’t speed up. He slows down, “Ask nicely.”

You reach back where his hands are holding onto your hips and you straighten up. Your back touches his chest and you reach up to where his hair is at. You pull him down to your mouth and stop, “Fuck. Me. Faster.”

He engulfs your mouth with his and fucks you tougher. He moans into your mouth, “Ask again.”

You pull at his hair again, gasping, “Please. Faster.” And he does. He pushes you down and you don’t go on all fours, you instead lay your face down and extend your arms forward so your ass is the only thing up in the air. Sooner than you think of, you're getting closer and Javier thightens his grip of your ass. He reaches down and circles your aching nub mercilessly, making your eyes roll back and your toes curl.

“Fuck!” you both scream in unison. Feeling the electricity travel all over me your body. Javier then collapses on top of you, panting. After a few moments, he stands up and goes for a cigarette, and begins to light it.

“Nope,” you say, staring at him over your shoulder. “No smoking in my home.”

He looks at you in astonishment, his chest and stomach glistening from his sweat, “Really?”

You grab a pillow and hug it to you while you're still on your stomach, “Yes,” you smile and pat the bed, “Come here.”

He stops mid-light and grumbles. He walks to you and leaves the cigarette and lighter on top of the nightstand. He grabs the pillow and tosses it to the floor and replaces himself with it. You inhale his sweaty, manly musk when he hugs you and kisses you. You feel content. It had been so long, it felt, since you didn't have a worry or were stressed about work.

Javier kisses the top of your head when he lays down and positions your head atop his chest. Brenton Wood had stopped singing a long time ago and now, you both laid there in comfortable silence, you listening to his heart thump against your ear, slowing down.

As you both drift away, Jack comes into your mind. I miss you, he says, kisses you and then gets shot. You wake up startled and panting. Javier opens his eyes and asks, “You Ok?”

“Yeah,” you say and take a deep breath. You lay back down, but the picture of Jack getting shot in the chest keeps prying your mind.

And then...

Ring, ring…

Your stomach drops and your breath hitches. You shoot out of bed and grab the phone that’s on your nightstand, fumbling it.

“Hello?” you say out of breath. But there’s no one on the other side. “Hello?” you say again.

“Y/N!” you hear Ginger on the other side, “He’s here!” She says and you suddenly feel like you want to throw up. “Y/N, did you hear me?”

“Yes, I-,” you turn and see Javier staring at you with concern in his beautiful face and eyes. But the only thing you see is Whiskey staring back at you, “I’m on my way.”

Taggity-Tags: @shikin83 @readsalot73 @otherthingsinhead @batata-elegante @fleurdemiel145 @maryan028 @stxriss @igotmadskills @just-add-butter @ghostofthebarricade @fatbottomedcurls @mrsparknuts

#javier peña x reader #agent vino x javier peña #agent vino x agent whiskey #similarbutworldsapart #javier peña #pedro pascal #agent whiskey #brenton wood #cause who doesnt love him #narcos #daddy pedro

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ahgaseda · 5 years ago

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two can keep a secret || chapter 04

⇥ synopsis : when your father reveals his intention to remarry, you find an unlikely confidant in Mark, your soon-to-be stepbrother, but what began as a revenge fling ironically becomes far more complicated...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, recurring alcohol and drug use, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

Nightmares followed your dreams. You were alone, running until your lungs gave out. You shouted, but no sound left your throat. The world around you spun out of control before closing in and swallowing you whole.

You awoke with a jolt, eyes flashing open. Before you could collect your bearings, Mark snapped, “That is horseshit!”

Blinking in surprise, you could hear the mashing of buttons, finally remembering Mark was hard at work bonding with his PlayStation.

“Mark,” you grumbled, unbelievably hot with the warmth of his body beneath you.

Mark glanced down at you on his chest. Seated in the recliner, you hadn’t hesitated to wrap yourself in a blanket and straddle his lap, tucking your head beneath his chin for a long nap.

Stressing over your future, but doing absolutely nothing about it was exhausting.

“You need to calm down.”

Mark snorted and retorted playfully, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

You chuckled and nuzzled his neck. He smelled so good.

Mark shifted, smirking slightly at how hard you were clinging to him. Your soft, supple body in his arms made him crazy out of his mind with desire, but for now he let you catch up on sleep. “What you doing later?” he asked after a pause.

Eyes closed, head heavy on his chest, you sighed, “Screaming into my pillow over what a loser I am.”

Mark almost chided you, but he didn’t want to appear to care too much, and teased instead, “I can give you something better to scream into your pillow about.”

Had your eyes been open, you would have rolled them, but still you smiled. “My horny boy.”

“I’m gonna hit it from the back. Been thinking about that ass all day.”

“I can’t wait,” you droned.

Maybe you had rested enough. Mark had sex on the brain now and suddenly his game was boring as hell. “Let’s go to bed.”

Lifting your head, you asked, “Ready?”

“Yeah, I’m done,” Mark said calmly, then shouted, “With this fucking piece of shit!”

You fought a chuckle. Mark and his rage with certain video games was no new mystery to you, and truth be told, was rather entertaining. He angrily shut off the console, as if being rough with such expensive equipment would teach it a lesson.

Mark watched you make the short trek to his bed, your hips swaying from side to side. You could practically feel his eyes on your ass, catching the tiniest glimpses of your pink panties when your sweater rode up with your movements.

Plopping onto the mattress, you gathered the blanket and made yourself comfortable. Mark sat on the other side, handing you the remote before rifling through the top drawer of his bedside table. You lay curled on your side, studying his back and the lines of his burly muscles. You were tempted to lick a hot path down his spine.

Mark turned around, the joint between his lips, and sidled up next to you. You weren’t surprised when he steered you with his broad hands until you were on his chest. You rubbed his stomach with a gentle palm, feeling the firmness of his abs over his shirt. Mark puffed out a cloud of smoke and lifted the remote, channel surfing for something to fill the quiet background.

“What do you wanna watch?” he asked a moment later.

“I don’t care. Something that won’t be annoying when we fuck.”

Mark lifted a brow. “Food Network?”

“Hell no,” you told him sternly. “Last time you watched it when you were baked you spent two hundred dollars at the grocery store.”

“I was hungry,” he replied innocently.

You snickered.

Mark kept an arm looped snugly around you, intending to keep you close. Not that you had plans of leaving his bed anytime soon. The two of you were playing house for the next couple of days.

Your father and his mother wanted to mourn the end of summer with a getaway to the oceanfront. While they invited you and Mark along, you both could tell they really didn’t want their kids in tow. So you convinced them that you and Mark would be better off left behind, and you would spend the time getting registered and geared for the fall semester.

Joke was on them, because you would have the house to yourself and could moan as loud as you wanted.

Mark laughed aloud, jostling you on top of him.

You peered up at him curiously. “What?”

“This shit is funny,” he said, like an immature little kid.

Considering My Cat From Hell was playing on the television, you held in a laugh and whispered, “You are high off your ass right now.”

Mark rolled toward you, slipping a hand beneath your sweater to stroke your waist and tucking his face beneath your jaw. Your lashes fluttered, the background noise fading to static as your ears echoed with the sound of his wet kisses on your neck.

You carded your fingers into his hair, hooked a leg over his hip, and let yourself sink deeper into the black of his sheets. Mark sucked a bruise at the base of your neck, a mark of his possession. If any man saw you and got ideas, the blemish would let them know your bed was spoken for.

“Mark,” you whimpered, tugging at his hair until you could see his face again.

Mark opened his mouth to speak, but you silenced him with a kiss - one wild with hunger. His hands were rough on your hips, grinding himself in the space between your thighs. His thumbs swiftly hooked in the waistband of your underwear, guiding them down the plump curve of your ass. You pulled away from his lips long enough to sit up and allow him to pull your panties down your legs.

Planting your hands on his chest, you shoved Mark to his back and straddled his lap. As you did, Mark yanked down his boxers just enough for his cock to slip free, standing at attention.

“Should I be worried that you get hard this fast?”

Mark chuffed, “No, you should be flattered.”

Sinking down and rolling your hips back and forth, you coaxed your folds over his length to coat him with your arousal. “What do you want me to do with it?”

“It’s hard as a rock,” Mark said with a shrug, as if you couldn’t see it for yourself. “Don’t let it go to waste.”

“Charming,” you deadpanned, tossing your hair behind your shoulders.

Mark bit his lip, watching you guide his cock to your entrance and slowly bring your hips back down to meet his until your tight pussy had swallowed every last inch of him. A shaky breath left his mouth. It was like the first time, every time. You always felt so good.

The girth of him had been overwhelming the first time you took him, but now your body readily accepted the stretch. A soft moan left you when he bottomed out and you braced your palms on his abs until you had adjusted.

Mark reached for your clothed breasts. With no bra underneath, he squeezed and pushed them together, rubbing your nipples with his thumbs over your sweater. "Take this damn shirt off so I can play with the titties,” he whined.

"No, they're sore,” you shot back, grabbing his wrists and prying them from your chest. “Leave them alone."

"Why are they sore?"

You pinned his hands on opposite sides of his head and pressed them into the mattress, nose brushing against his. "Because my period is coming."

He grimaced. "...Great."

You kissed him softly, hoping to silence any more complaints. Dancing your tongue in his mouth, you finally began moving your hips, grinding down on him and earning a quiet moan.

It would have been all too easy for Mark to pull his wrists free of your grip and turn the tables, but he rather liked the view and let you do as you pleased with him. For the moment anyway.

You bounced your ass up and down, a wet smack growing louder each time you brought yourself down on him. The little catches in his breath made you shiver and you were smug, to say the least. Riding Mark made you feel powerful and beautiful, if the way he gazed up at you in reverence was any indication.

Mark licked his lips and murmured, “Just like that, baby.”

You missed the feeling of his big hands on your hips and you guided them there without a word. Mark chuckled and gave you a squeeze, tempted to sing praises for your soft skin and thick thighs.

Resisting the urge to make noises was hard, almost as hard as his dick buried in your tight cunt. You reminded yourself that while the parents were away, the kids could play, and you suddenly longed for a chance to be domestic with Mark.

You quickly shook your head. Couldn’t have thoughts like that. He was your future stepbrother. There was zero chance of any normal relationship with Mark Tuan.

Distracted, you fell into a rhythm with your hips, wrapping around his length like a glove and rising and falling to do it again, again, again.

“Fuck,” Mark grunted, snapping you from your reverie. “You’re gonna make me nut.”

You tilted your head coyly. “Already?”

“Slow down.”

You glared. “Will you just relax and let me ride?”

Mark reeled back his hands and landed them on your ass with a resounding crack, kneading with appreciation. He lifted his hips to meet yours, the sound of your soaked pussy echoing through the room.

The head of his cock rammed against your sweet spot and you gasped his name, leaning forward and arching your back. Mark smirked and steered your hips, urging you to slide back and forth with his cock seated deep inside. Then, when he had his fill of that, Mark wrapped his arms around you and started thrusting.

“Mark,” you cried out, lips parted in a silent moan. His pace came faster and faster, skin slapping harshly against skin. You squirmed, moving so he could hit it just right, and braced your hands on his burly chest.

Mark abandoned your waist in favor of your hair, tangling in a fist in your disheveled locks and gripping your jaw none too gently with the other. He would have loved to tease you, but he was far too busy throttling his cock into your slick pussy.

You groaned and dropped onto his chest when he stopped his brutal pace, but his hands were suddenly wandering as you grinded down on him.

“Ah, fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Mark chanted, frantically getting a hold of your waist and pinning you still.

You glanced down at him, licking your lips with arrogance. “You’re right there, aren’t you?”

“Please don’t move,” he whimpered, hands shaking with restraint.

You chuckled at the frailty in his voice. “Well, since you asked nicely.”

When Mark had settled down, he growled, “It’s all fun and games until I bend you over and fuck your brains out.”

“I get an orgasm either way.”

Mark grumbled.

You glanced over at the clock on his end table and groaned, “Ugh, come on. We’ve been at this for ten minutes.”

“Woman, are you complaining?”

You shrugged, noncommittal.

Mark sat up with you in his grasp. Your bodies moved as one, in perfect sync, driving to finish each other off. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, fingers pressing deep into his skin, mind overwhelmed with just how deep he could stroke inside your core. Mark panted below your ear, heating the sweat on your skin with his breath. His little gasps and moans were your undoing. Just as the tightening of your walls was his.

At long last release barreled into you. Struggling in his grasp, you shuddered with ecstasy and Mark quickly tightened his grip on your body to keep you locked to him in the height of your climax. The choked off sounds coming from your mouth would have mortified you had you not been in the throes of orgasm, toes curling as your hips bucked wildly to ride through the rest of your high.

Mark bit his lip, getting off to the sight of you unraveling in his arms. He loved how you desperately tried to escape his embrace, recoiling away from the stimulation as he kept hitting your sweet spot with thrusts of his cock.

For fuck’s sake, he loved making you come, loved the way your walls tightened on him, pulling him back in. He loved how you cried his name, how you gasped for breath and begged for mercy. Mark held you securely but possessively in his arms.

No one had ever made him feel like this and he was starting to worry that no one else ever could.

chapter 03 ⇤ chapter 04 ⇥ chapter 05

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

#got7 fanfiction #got7 smut #mark smut #mark tuan smut #got7 imagines #got7 au #mark tuan imagines #mark tuan au

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copias-thrall · 5 years ago

Text

DIY

(Part: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8)

It’s been a trying day. The staffing agency had gotten you another contract, and the firm wanted to meet with you in person for some reason. Usually you’re just traded around with firms already familiar with you, and you can’t recall the last time you needed to be respectable. You tend to dye your hair when your mood changes, so the fading pink had needed to be taken care of.

“What do you care about their opinion?” Mary had said.

“This would be a little more money,” you’d shrugged. “I could get the good coffee and that mochi you like.”

“I can feed myself,” Mary had snapped.

“Then why don’t you?” you’d retorted.

He’d made a sour face at you when you’d said that.

In the end, Mary had suggested going black, and the two of you had had hair-dye day where you’d introduced Mary to the wonder of Vaseline to keep the dye off his skin.

“Look at you, making me all respectable,” he’d quipped as you’d slathered him up.

“Yes, heaven forbid you lose your coveted street cred because your ears and hairline aren’t mottled with black half the time.”

While most of the dye had ended up in your hair, a few errant blotches ended up staining the tiles and shower curtain (and, ok—the hand print on your upper arm when Mary forgot himself). Mary had called you a spoilsport when you’d refused to fuck in the shower (“What? It’s cool with all the black dye running down our bodies. Come on!”). But in the end you were rather happy with how the fresh dye made your pixie bob look sleek and polished.

Mary had scrutinized you in the mirror.

“I don’t like it. Makes you look like you’re trying too hard to be normal.”

You’d made a face at him. “Well, we can’t all work at Mickey’s and dress like Oscar the Grouch kicked us out of bed for eating crackers.”

Mary’d lightly bitten your neck. “I’m taking that as a compliment.” He’d then run his fingers through the shorter hair at the back of your head. “You’d look pretty hot with an undercut.”

“I know,” you’d said as you’d winked at him.

He’d snorted. “Modest too.”

You’d shrugged. “Getting an undercut was one of my many tiny actions of rebellion. As long as I kept my hair down, no one was the wiser.”

“They never caught you?”

You’d sighed. “They did. Bitch of thing too—a picture of the school pep rally in the monthly newsletter for parents happened to catch me in the background.”

“Shit. What happened?”

“After all the screaming about boundaries and disrespect? TThey’d shaved my whole head.”

Mary’d stilled behind you.

“They … what?”

You’d leaned into the mirror, primping your hair unnecessarily.

“Buzzed all my hair off. Said I should never do things by half measures.”

Mary’d given you a look in the mirror, so you’d just smiled brightly at him.

“It’s just hair, Mary. Beside, all my schoolmates thought I was edgy as fuck.”

He’d turned you to face him.

“I really fucking hate your parents.”

You’d just patted him on the cheek. “Why waste the energy.”

“It’s just …” he’d leaned against the washer/drier as you began to clean up. “I had to be like, 15? And I came home from a friend’s house with badly bleached hair and a safety pin through my navel. My mum was in the kitchen, and I told her I wanted to be called Viscount Doom from now on. You know what she said?”

(It was a rhetorical question.)

“She said, ‘That’s nice, dear—now take out the trash’.” He’d chuckled. “I was always her son first, you know?”

You’d slid a hand under his shirt to stick your thumb in his unadorned belly button.

“Did she make you take the safety pin out.”

Mary’d grinned at you. “Ah, well. The fucker got infected. Angry red blotches with pus and shit. I had to come clean to mum, and she bundled me off to urgent care. Whoops.”

You’d traced your thumb along his belly button, feeling now the obvious bump of scar tissue.

“So you were always fucking crusty.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he’d said as he’d crowded into you and dragged your hand down to his crotch.

The actual "chat” (they’d purposefully pussyfooted around calling it an interview) had gone fine; a girl about your age—probably an intern—had read a bunch of inane questions off a piece of paper in a monotone before a harried-looking woman came in and asked you questions surely your resume could have answered.

The firm itself, however, was a 30min walk from the bus, and about 90 more minutes including a bus transfer away from your apartment. You’d gotten up at 5am so you could leave by 6 so you weren’t late for your 9am appointment (“Jesus. Who schedules interviews for the crack of dawn?” “Sadists, that’s who.”). So, of course, you’d gotten there an hour early and—with no coffee shop in sight—you’d sat on a concrete wall across the street that bordered a parking lot.

Like a creep.

You’d then been asked to wait for another hour because “an earlier meeting was running late.” The receptionist had at least taken pity on you and brought you a steaming cup of Dunks and a chocolate doughnut.

It was noon by the time you made it out of there—which meant that there was no way you were making the 12:25pm bus. Which meant you didn’t make the 1:33pm transfer, and you had to cool your jets in a fast casual restaurant for 45min. The next bus had never shown. When you finally made it onto the transfer bus, you’d dozed off and had woken up several stops past your destination; you’d opted to just walk back to your apartment instead of waiting the questionable amount of time for the next bus in the opposite direction.

By the time you finally get back to your place, you’re limping from the blisters your cheap dress shoes had given you, and it’s nearly 4pm. When you enter your apartment, you’re surprised to see Mary on your couch, guitar in hand and scribbling down notes. At the clink of you dropping your keys into the skull ashtray that had just appeared one day, he looks up.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, sounding much more harsh than you intended as you kick off your shoes.

“Well, hello to you too. I couldn’t hear myself think at my place.” He gives you a minute shrug.

You don’t know why this irritates you.

“Well maybe think about giving me the same courtesy,” you snap as you limp toward your bedroom. “I need to lie down.”

You don’t even get changed, just untuck your pussy-bow blouse and unzip your pencil skirt before flopping down onto your bed.

“Interview not go well?” asks Mary’s from your doorframe

You wave your hand. “The interview was fine, but it was a fucking trial and a half getting there and back. Thank god I won’t be onsite.”

“Yeah. I was kind of wondering where you were.”

You just snort and start to wrestle off your nude hose, but then Mary’s kneeling there and rolling them down you. You hiss when he gets to your feet.

“Fuck, your feet are wrecked.”

“Remind me to bring flip flops or something next time.”

“K.”

He tosses your pantyhose at your laundry basket (they only half make it in), then he leans down to kiss the instep on each foot.

“Do you want me to eat you out?” he asks as his hands travel up the inside of your legs.

You lean up to look at him. “Yeah, actually. Would you?”

Mary grins at you. “Ok, baby doll.”

You lie back down as Mary begins to kiss and nip up your legs. You help him to get your panties off and to push up your skirt—then he’s diving into your folds, his tongue enthusiastically lapping at your clit. Unfortunately, you’re just too exhausted to really get into it, and Mary notices your lack of engagement. His head pops up.

“Fingers?”

“Fingers,” you agree.

He wipes off his chin with the back of his hand before climbing onto your bed. You shimmy out of your skirt before he’s rolling you onto your side. He positions himself behind you, his hand sliding down your stomach until it reaches your lips. You arch back into him at the feeling of his finger slip sliding across your sensitive clit.

“Oh yeah, Mare …”

He doesn’t tease you, just keeps up a steady motion, changing it up to avoid touch numbness. Despite your lethargy, you pant and squirm against him as your blood pools and your orgasm slowly builds. He’s been giving your neck little nips and sucks, but as you get close to blowing, Mary leans over to engage you in a wet, sloppy kiss. It ratchets your arousal, and you suck his tongue into your mouth, saliva leaking out the other side, as you begin to press back against his hand. He quickens his finger, and you cry out at the burst of pleasure. Your orgasm swells and breaks soon after, and you moan and thrash a little as Mary works you through the waves.

When you sag, sated, he gives your ear a lick, then removes his hand.

“Mmm,” is all you manage as you roll onto your stomach.

“Yeah, I know. C’mon, let’s get you out of that top.”

“No,” you say into the bed.

“Yes,” he says as he starts to tug up the hem. “You’ll thank me later.”

You just grunt at him.

He manages to get the material up to your armpits before you’re obliged to move by lifting your arms—and even then all you do is hold out your arms.

“You’re a pain in my fucking ass.”

“Mmphb.”

Through minimal effort on your part, Mary finally removes both your top and your bra before rolling you this way and that to get you under the covers. You’re asleep before he even leaves the room.

You sleep, nude, sprawled out and face mashed into your pillow. It isn’t until much later when you wake. It’s almost certainly because Mary is on all fours over you, mashing his face into your neck. You must move in some tiny way, because he stills.

“Mare,” you mumble groggily into the pillow.

“Shh,” he breaths. “Don’t. Just …” His mouth moves to your ear. “Can I?” he whispers. “I was so good earlier.”

“Mhm,” you agree sleepily.

“Stay still then,” he growls as he shifts about. “Don’t. Move.”

You feel the head of his cock enter you, and you clench and moan. Mary’s other hand is quick on your head, smashing your face further into the pillow.

“Shut up,” he hisses, then his hand is gone.

He takes the tip out, then slides it back in.

Then out.

Then in.

He teases himself like that a few more times—making pleased rumbles—before finally sliding all the way home. You bite the pillow in an effort not to twitch or make noise. The bed jostles when his balled hands land on either side of you, supporting himself up. He takes a handful of slow, smooth pumps in and out of you, making little Mmm noises. It’s a nice feeling that you relax into—silently.

He speeds up a little … and then a lot … until he’s pounding into you with such force that there's an audible slap! slap! slap! as he makes contact with your skin and your one arm is jostled slightly off the bed. Mary moans, and changes up to long, hard strokes that hit your sweet spot deliciously; you know your breaths are labored at the strain of staying motionless and quiet, but luckily, any sound you’re making is being drowned out by Mary’s grunts every time the bowl of his pelvis smacks into the meat of your ass.

You’re pretty slick from your arousal, and Mary easily pumps in and out of you. You can feel your heartbeat in your pussy—and your frustration with not being able to touch yourself increases. Mary suddenly grabs the fat on your back hard enough you almost cry out. He lowers himself down onto his forearms and starts to fuck into you with quicker, deeper thrusts that are no longer quite hitting your G-spot—much to your chagrin. He’s not quite laying on your back, but he’s close enough that you can hear the rasping air through his nose and the Uhn noises he’s making—his breath hot and moist on the nape of your neck.

You expect him to finish like that, so you’re surprised when he heaves himself up to a kneeling position. His hands grip your hips hard, and then he’s yanking you back onto his dick as he buries himself deep into you.

And again.

When he accidentally hits your cervix, you do let out a little mewl, but he doesn’t seem to notice—cock still deep in you and his hands still clamped on your sides. After a moment, you finally feel the tension drain out of him, and he releases his grip, flopping down on the bed beside you. Sluggishly you begin to move your limbs, but Mary gathers you up to him with a soft C’mere. He presses his sweat-cool body against your back and kisses your neck once before he’s maneuvering your vibrator (oh, hello) between your legs.

You reach your hand down to help position it to your liking, mashing into it once … twice … thrice, and then you’re moaning and twitching—the nails of your free hand digging into Mary’s thigh—before the intensity has you finally shying away from the toy lest you make a mess.

Mary clicks the vibe off before letting it go, and you twist around until you’re facing him. You grip his hair in your hands and kiss him deeply, smashing your slickness into him as your cunt still gives an errant spasm or two. He grabs your ass and pulls you into him.

“Yeah, mash that wet pussy into me—I want to smell you on me all night.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You fucking love it.”

“I should pee on you.”

“Do you think I’ve never been pe—”

You shove a pillow in his face. “OH MY GOD—do not finish that sentence.”

His hand shoots out and presses on your bladder. You shriek and push him away from you, and he subsequently falls off the bed with an undignified noise. He looks up at you like a disgruntled cat, so you just cackle and sprint out of the bedroom. You can hear him start after you, but he’s not quick enough, and you manage to lock the bathroom door behind you before he can catch you.

You’re too tired to cook, and you’re wondering if you can count on getting that contract enough to order takeout when Mary surprises you; he takes out a beat up looking Tupperware from your fridge. Something reddish-brown sloshes in it.

“It’s my kitchen-sink goulash.” He beams.

You put a smile on your face.

“Aww, Mare. What’s … in it?” you ask as you squint at the contents.

He pokes you in the ribs.

“Just fucking try it.”

You reheat it in a big pot, and it looks edible enough—elbow macaronis, ground meat, tomato sauce, green … things. Once you’re settled at your rusty cafe table with the hot food, you dig in and you have to admit that it’s actually not bad. Mary has a smug look on his face as you tuck in.

“Shut up,” you say.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your thoughts are loud.”

He just giggles at you.

“So what is in it?”

“Uh,” says Mary as he chews. “Frozen hamburger patties, spaghetti sauce, noodles, and some okra from the Latin grocer near me.”

You make a thoughtful noise.

“I wouldn’t have guessed okra. I knew it wasn’t green beans, but.”

“I swear that store is the only reason none of us have scurvy.”

Afterwards he packs up his guitar.

“I gotta be getting back to my place.” He licks your nose, and you sputter. He grins. “But thanks for the sex.”

“Yeah, well …” you say as you rub at your nose, “thanks for the Goulash.”

He looks at you for a moment before slipping a hand into your robe to rest on a love handle.

“I didn’t come by just to hear myself think, you know.”

You roll your eyes, but step into his space.

“I kinda got that, Mare.”

You tap your lips, and he leans down to kiss you.

⬅️Previous | Next ➡️

#mary goore #ofc #feral cats fic #gutter punk #gritty girls #my writing #original post

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make-it-mavis · 4 years ago

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Homesick (Entry #18)

(cw: vomiting) ----------

01/06/88 2:55 AM Hey.

Y’know what’s weird?

This is getting harder and easier at the same time.

I stayed at the edge of the forest until the arcade opened. It felt safer that way. If anyone wanted to sneak into our game and snuff me out, they’d have a tough time getting past the Surge Protector within working hours. Even still, there was the thought, how was I to know someone hadn’t somehow dodged all my booby traps, and was already waiting for me at my den?

Being paranoid sucks. I would not recommend it.

Once the quarters started rolling in, the thundering dull roar of gameplay eventually grounded me enough to breach the tree line. I bolted through the trees and reached my den, which was blessedly free of murderers, for the time being. I tore down all the curtains so no one could hide behind them, and I kept my back to a tree while I gave another real, more involved shot at using my brush.

I tried to make a pie, but just got cherry slime. I made way too many apples, oranges, and bananas. I made red strings, orange streamers, yellow confetti, red sequins, orange beads, yellow ribbons, always with the red, orange, yellow, red, orange, freakin’ yellow.

Everything about it made me sick. I felt betrayed. This was the one thing that I was supposed to be able to control, one of the few good things the Devs gave me. Now, rubbing handfuls of salt into the gaping wounds I was already nursing, they took it away, for what I preferred to think of as no reason at all. I’d find a reason if I let myself think about it, and it would not be good. The last thing I needed was more ‘not good’ things.

I’m a strong sprite, there’s no doubt about that. But that aforementioned weight on my shoulders was starting to really bear down, slowly carving hairline fractures in my bones. I wasn’t broken, yet. But I was sure as hell breaking, and there was crit all I could do to stop it. You know me, though. I’m not one to resign to fate, or whatever you’d call it. I’m a kicker and a screamer.

So, I kicked and screamed.

Threw my brush, flipped my bed, ripped my papers down, shattered my mirror, pulled out clumps of hair and just screamed, just like in Fix-it’s apartment. I wanted to purge all the panic, rage, and desperation, and I wanted it to be easy.

That method usually works. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t this time. It didn’t really have time to. It actually… almost made things a lot worse, I guess.

I was so loud, the gamer at controls heard me.

After I’d been screaming for a couple minutes, I had the absolute pixels scared out of me by deafening beats on the side of our cabinet, courtesy of Litwak. It sure shut me up, I can tell you that. I fell right on my ass and held my breath.

Way off, I heard Litwak say, “And… all better! Some of these older games can really start singin’ sometimes. Lemme know if there’s an encore, huh?”

Then, some kid’s voice giggled, “Thanks, Mr. Litwak!”

I got us smacked. Maybe that should have bothered me more than it did -- after all, that could only have added to my ‘danger to the game’ allegations. The Nicelanders would definitely go around saying that I’d gotten an Out of Order sign all ready to be taped to the screen after that. But there was hardly anything I could do anymore that wouldn’t have been incriminating in their eyes.

No, what bothered me was what he said. About how we were one of the ‘old games.’ I guess we’re the old games by default, now, with this wave of shiny newcomers being plugged in. But the way he said it just really made me think of how unfair it all is. All the first-generation Litwak’s Family Fun Centre games bust their bits for years to keep the quarters flowing, but hey, none of that matters once something new comes along. Like Roadblasters. I remembered all the grief I’d seen you go through once that flashy eyesore started leeching your ‘loyal fans’ -- and the very same giant wastoid who plugged it in now had the nerve to call games like mine, and by extension, yours, ‘these older games’? My gut burned with so much spite, I wanted to go break through the screen and rip out his moustache.

Instead, I threw up in my laundry barrell. Somehow, less satisfying.

Once most of the chaos in my head had settled to more flexible levels, and after I’d been dry-heaving my feelings for a solid five minutes, I had a decision to make. The longer I stayed in my den, all alone, the more dread crept back into me. I wanted so badly to be able to be on my own, where no one could see how hard I was having to fight to keep it together, but that was just impossible. I couldn’t turn my back to the darkness. I could barely close my eyes. It felt like the worst kind of pathetic, like a scared little kid needing to sleep with the lights on. But there was no negotiating it -- I needed company. Real bad.

It didn’t take long for me to decide where to go. I was, by no means, in love with the idea, but I didn’t have much of a choice. After all, now that I was no longer speaking to Fix-it, there was only one other non-Nicelander left. Whether or not he’d kick me out on sight remained to be seen.

I stuffed my bag full of notebooks, slung my guitar over my shoulder, and wrapped a few things from my hoard (including a bucket) in a big makeshift blanket-sack, along with as many pillows as I could fit in. All the pillows in the world would not save me from those bricks, but one has to try.

I also found your scarf and goggles. You know. The burned ones.

I’d kept them, of course, but I’d just been… ignoring them. They felt like the most pressing question of my life, and I hadn’t wanted to face them again until I had answers. But, suddenly, that changed. I don’t know how to describe why, right now. All I know is, when I wore them around my neck, it felt... right. In the most terrible way.

I almost never take them off, now.

Anyway, once all had been gathered, I grabbed the knot of the sack, and like the dull, flightless bird I’d become, I started trudging towards the most awkward series of sleepovers in my life.

Also known as the dump.

I didn’t bother waiting for the arcade to close, or even for the game to end, before crossing the map. The gamers seeing me wouldn’t do any damage -- quite the opposite, really. They love me in short spurts. That is, they love the idea of me.

Once I stepped into the light of the screen, they had their usual little freak out.

“Woah, hey, what’s that!?”

“Get it, get it!”

I paused. Being on my way to cross behind the building, I was out of their playing range, but it’s not like they could tell, with their crummy depth perception. They puppeted Fix-it over, ‘til his long shadow almost touched my feet, and he looked over his shoulder as much as he could, straining to smile. The gamers mashed the fix button and bounced him around. Bing bing bing bing bing.

“I can’t get it--”

“Jump on it!”

“I am jumping on it! It’s like, in the background, or something.”

“Oh my god, look at Felix’s face. He’s looking at it. What the hell is it?!”

“Looks kinda like a little pink Felix?”

Always and forever with the Dev-damned pink. Not to dig on pink, but it’s so obviously salmon. What’s the point of being 16-bit if the colorblind gamers only see in 8?

I kept moving. The scene felt too familiar, you know. They kept up their insistent twittering ‘til I emerged on the other side of the building. I heard Fix-it hopping around in the foreground again, but I didn’t stop to look. I just carried on to the dump. I’d done the game enough of a favor -- after all, even after I’d left the light of the screen, the gamers were still in a tizzy, jamming in quarters to try to figure out how to get me back.

“I’ve sank a fortune into this game, and I’ve never seen that before.”

“Was it some kind of Easter Egg, you think? How did I unlock it?!”

And so on.

I climbed up the bricks, and I make a point of saying ‘climbed’ here, because the old pile has really grown over the past five years, and I never really thought about it too much until I couldn’t fly anymore. The wrecker’s beloved stump sat flat against the ground, once, but now it’s easily higher than two of me. I set my stuff down a little ways behind it, looked up to see both Fix-it and Wreck-it giving me the side-eyes through gameplay, and pushed together a brick pile big enough to duck behind and gain some semblance of privacy.

I honestly don’t remember how I spent the rest of that day, until closing. I can’t have done anything too interesting. Waited, stewed, debated, panicked, threw up, waited some more. Something like that.

Waited, waited, waited.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wreck it ralph #fix it felix #make it mavis #original character #homesick #turbo

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years ago

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Vidya Gaems -- A One Shot

I put the headset on my head. “Hey, Mingfei, can you hear me?”

“Yeah I can hear you just fine.”

“Great!” Mingfei actually had a very nice voice over the headset. Of course, now he was in the comfort of his own dorm room about to do what he loved to do -- play video games -- with some someone he liked doing things with.

Me.

And he just got a new fighting game -- Deadly Force -- a hyper realistic, graphically violent and bloody fighting game that earned high marks for its creative brutality and earned 5 out of 5 pearl clutching parent marks for its siren-like pull on every young man in existence.

And me.

As soon as I saw it, I wanted to play, much to Mingfei’s shock. I’d never played games but I wanted to play this one. And he was more than happy to play with me.

The only other fighting game I’d ever played with him was a few rounds of Street Thug. And after that I much rather watch him beat other people up than experience it myself. But we were both unfamiliar with this game. So when I out of the blue told him that I would be happy to learn to play with him he was understandably confused.

“You would...?”

When I first booted up the game, I was watching the opening cinematic with all the excitement of a kid on her first carnival ride when I realized that Mingfei had already skipped all that and had gone straight to the character roster. Immediately, I was at a disadvantage for admiring all the good graphics and forgetting I was in a competition.

When I finally got to the character select, I heard his voice sounding like he was a mobster sitting in a plush chair with a glass of wine. “Nice of you to join me.”

Mingfei tried to explain the roster with the different character backgrounds and how a scantily clad fire goddess would ever get into a literal fist fight with a buff military dude but instead I asked. “Is that that guy from the Avatar movie?”

“...Yeah I think it is.”

“Okay I thought I recognized him.”

It started out really fun. Neither of us knew what we were doing. We were just mashing buttons and trying to figure out which was a punch and which was a taunt. I got plenty of hits in while Mingfei’s character kept doing handstands and wisecracking.

“Why does it keep doing that?!”

I was laughing uncontrollably. “Because you keep hitting the same button!”

“Except I’m not!” My laughter was infectious. He started to laugh too.

I smiled, smugly, slamming his character in the face over and over. “I don’t care, keep doing it.”

Unfortunately, like a lingua franca, certain button combinations were universal and Mingfei’s familiarity with video games, and fighting games in particular, soon widened the gap between us.

I was resorting to throwing random combinations against the wall of his character’s face and seeing what stuck. And occasionally, something stuck.

“Why are you kicking my butt all of a sudden?” He asked.

“I don’t know?” I slammed his character to the ground and then jumped and crushed him with a pointy spike on my character’s elbow which, I supposed, was expressly designed for that purpose.

“I can’t... fight this guy...” I watched his character approach, grapple mine and perform a similar combo while I giggled.

This was a very fun time for me when we were both figuring these things out. When neither of us knew what we were capable of.

That never happened again.

The next phase of our bonding over games was not a bonding at all. More of a lifting of the veil over my bestie’s pretty face and revealing the horror underneath.

Mingfei suddenly became the typical older brother and I was the sibling whose forehead he held his hand to while my arms pinwheeled fruitlessly through the air.

It was an endless montage of brutal cinematics while I watched my character get stabbed, impaled, dismembered, and riddled with bullets. Over... and over... again and again...

Or he would just sit there and spam the same punch button and I had to watch my health slowly disappear bit by bit while I tried to remember how to parry. “Stop! Mingfei! That’s so annoying!”

He was laughing in my ear.

“I can’t... I can’t do anything! I swear I’m going to come over and drop kick you in the face.”

He started laughing harder. All the while just hitting the same button.

“God I hate you...”

“I can do it over... and over... and over...”

“I’m not going to play if this is how it’s going to be!” I wailed.

He then proceeded to finish my off with a super move.

There was no way to really manage my growing frustration other than to start googling how to actually do stuff. “Hold on...”

“What are you doing.”

“I’m... trying to figure out how to play!”

“What?”

“Okay now we can start.” And then I ran into another problem.

Mingfei could parry and dodge. So even though now I was just figuring out how to hit, I couldn’t hit him. My character just chased him around the screen.

“Stop jumping!”

“Why!”

“So I can hit you!”

“I don’t want you to hit me.” He chuckled.

“I want to hit you!”

“I know! Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”

My character creeped up to him. “Okay... for real?”

“Yeah.”

After consulting the move list one more time, I hit the combination of buttons.

He dodged, wheezing with laughter.

“I’m going to kill you!”

Then Mingfei discovered stuns. He stunned my character and my character wobbled and swayed while Mingfei imitated me. “Hold on I have to look something up real quick. Let’s see... how do I want to win this time... hmmm...”

I had to press a quick-time event button to try to shake off the stun but Mingfei already had the timing just right and made sure to finish my character off just before I filled the meter.

The darkness in my soul was becoming a growing tide as he became more and more cruel and creative with beating me into the ground.

Until finally, I found a new character. It was like a blessing. The gods felt pity on me, a ranged archer woman named Athena. For some reason, Athena seemed built for me. Mingfei couldn’t stun, he couldn’t run, if he jumped I just unleashed a hailstorm of arrows.

“Why are you so good with this girl. You’ve never played before?”

“I like her!” I said, smugly. “We’re besties. She’s the best girl. She’s the best one.” I suddenly gasped and laughed.

I won. I won a round. For the past hour and a half, Mingfei had never lost a single round. I raised my arms in the air. “FEAR ME MINGFEI! I AM FIRE! I. AM. DEATH!” I crowed. “Hahahaha! Didn’t see THAT one coming did you?!”

“Wanna go round two Mingfei? Hahaha. If you lose, I’m going to tell everyone I beat you.” I giggled.

Round two.

And he went Godzilla on my character so hard I had to acknowledge the crushing reality that he had been going easy on me this entire time.

The announcer stuck the nail in the coffin when it announced. “FLAWLESS VICTORY”.

I hadn’t hit him. I hadn’t hit him once.

I hung my head.

“You were saying?” He said.

It wasn’t the fact that he beat me. It was the false hope. All the fun we’d been having and he’d just been playing around, rolling over, pretending not to know. Just to wait until I actually thought I could win, only to remind me that I was dealing with a frickin’ god.

It wasn’t the blood and gore that was the problem... it was the disrespect.

“You’re so lucky I’m not sitting next to you.”

“Are we still friends?”

“Buy me ice cream.”

“I can buy you ice cream.”

#Lu Mingfei #Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Writing

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steve0discusses · 5 years ago

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Yugioh S4 Ep 9: Denial on so Many Fronts

I’ve managed to have a pretty open timeslot this holiday, where I decided I was going to do lots of catch up work. (I have instead filled up my Background Music Playlist with lots of youtube piano covers of Castlevania.)

So of course I find myself back at this blog to fill the leftover time, it being so many weeks (months, actually) since I was able to do a double update weekend (spoiler, I did not finish a second update :) ).

This episode, Yugioh decided to legitimately enter romance territory and y’all it is something. And I don’t mean it in a “Ain’t that something!” sort of way, I mean it in the “That is...something.” Kind of way. And for the first time in forever, I actually have to talk about romance today. For once that is actually something this episode is about. For about 5 entire minutes. It’s staggering.

So lets get into it because the stance the show decides to take against the only valid romantic relationship it’s had outside of Pegasus sure is something.

Duke has managed to get inside Pegasus’ facility/Place Duke works at every single day. Incredible that he finally made it inside of his actual workplace. Whether he just found an open door or Metal Geared up a trash chute is undeclared, since that was all off screen between episodes, but maybe he has to do this like...all the time? Like heaven forbid Duke ever leave his phone at the office because this place seems iron clad and apparently there is absolutely no one he can call to let him in.

Like for reals isn’t Duke upper level management or something? Like a team director for an entire model of card game? Wtv, I guess he got demoted at some point and now he’s at the same level as a Google temp.

Duke used to air on international TV, just throwing that out there. He used to be a very big deal. Course, for all we know, maybe he also got locked out of his game store all the freakin time?

Anyway, he finds some random room he’s decided is the security room and uh...

Starts just mashing buttons.

I assume that he was just mashing the entire time it took for this duel to last, PS, because we all know that password, but does Duke? Is Duke, in fact, the only character left on this show that doesn’t know Pegasus’ password because he wasn’t there in most of S1?

(read more under the cut)

As Joey is playing Mai, he’s noticed that she is freaking out, but only intermittently. She’s going in between personalities like Yugi and Pharaoh.

In the show it makes it seem like she’s “Snapping out of it” as far as the Orichalcos’ effects go. But like...becoming a stumbling crying mess in between card draws is sort of like...not making Joey look like a good guy.

In fact, this episode goes out of their way to try and paint him a hero but they didn’t accomplish that. They start to. It starts to look like that. As Mai is breaking down, she loses her weird Oricalchos ability to no longer feel fear, and Joey takes the opportunity to try and get her to away from the dark side.

Thing is, the duel has already started so it’s kind of moot now since neither she nor Joey really know how to end the duel without killing the other. So it’s like he’s trying to reach out to her the only way he can since this duel wasn’t his choice anyway, but it is in a way that is killing both of them. Symbolism, I guess.

You know, it seemed like the show just needed a way to put a timer over Joey’s head and this was the only excuse they could give because the right thing to have done is just not play anything.

And that whole thing last episode where Pharaoh was like “there is ONE way out of this situation” I assumed would be about a tie. I kind of just assumed a tie would take place like between Kaiba and Alister...instead...it got weird.

First off, Valon--out of all people, Valon the drug card pusher of the wacky accent--decided to be more heroic than any of our heroes who are currently just gawking at a force field.

It’s been like 4 seasons since Yugi jumped and hung off the edge of a clocktower, only holding on by the point of his pyramid puzzle, and I keep seeing situations where we could see Yugi impress us yet again and instead he keeps his feet planted firmly on the ground while random ass Valon just shoots into the air like a rubber band.

Why didn’t I just assume that when Pharaoh said “I know how to beat this.” he meant to punch it directly in the face?

I’m pretty sure it’s an allusion to the fact that Oricalchos takes away your sense of fear that these three are constantly being huge idiots and jumping off ledges and out of airplanes but like...

...they are wearing a lot of padding, to be fair.

(I joke about Joey getting possessed as if he hasn’t been already)

And so Valon, this evil as hell villain who’s probably killed countless numbers of people up until now just starts freaking out about Mai. Like, a lot for this show. Like we even get a really awkward death squeeze. And like she ain’t even dead.

Almost like Severus Snape in that awkward Harry Potter Movie flashback, but Valon actually dated her once (I could go off about the Harry Potter movies but I’ll spare you.) It’s just every time Mai passes out there will be some man crying over her that she doesn’t even seem remotely aware of when she’s awake.

Like remember how Mai got engaged and she forgot? At the time I thought that was super weird but I’m starting to realize she probably just took a nap or something and then boom.

So although none of this is Raphael’s business, he’s so annoyed at Valon for possibly pissing off Darts that he decides to deflect his anger onto Pharaoh--who wasn’t even participating in this duel.

I mean Raphael wanted to kill Pharaoh anyway but it still feels like kind of a reach.

Speaking of reach...I miss our really good storyboarder. Check out that foreshortened hand. Man Yugioh, the whiplash from good to eh. It’s so much whiplash.

So, in a burst of green light, the three bikers vanish.

And I guess now they can just use Mai’s bike whenever, because it’s not like she’s gonna use it. But I doubt very much Tristan will remember that.

And so, this is about where this episode’s romance goes a little weird because Joey just...

Am I supposed to want Joey to break up Valon and Mai? Like I know one time Joey attempted to take a fireball for her (but didn’t, that was Pharaoh, who isn’t currently crying about Mai despite taking a fireball for her), and then another time Joey dueled Marik for her (and lost.) But like...then Joey lost touch with her for over a year and legitimately didn’t seem bothered until just now when she showed up.

Valon not only seems at least 2 years older than Joey, he’s also stuck around with her for longer than a week, which is much longer than the amount of time that Joey Wheeler has spent with her (while she was conscious). And listen I don’t ship, you know me, but I feel like the show isn’t doing a good job to convince me that Valon is anything but loyal to Mai. Just throwing that out there.

It just comes off that Joey is jealous and unable to cope with Mai being around another guy, when it’s like...Joey...Mai was gone for over a year. You can’t claim dibs anymore. It’s possessive this episode to a degree I don’t think the writers wanted to go. It feels like an accident that they wrote him like this.

I guess, story wise, Joey needs a reason to duel and be on this show--but why must it always gravitate around a girl who’s actually just fine without him?

Like Mai right now is a mess but she wants to be this mess. Personally I think he should respect her decision and give her space but I guess this show really wants to go the angle of “If your friend goes off the deep end, dive after them” to which I would like to say “or don’t.”

Like I think this is all on a case by case basis, but...Mai’s MURDERED people (and a gas station). Although one of them was Pegasus, who doesn’t count, this is still a situation where you should maybe avoid your friend and just call the cops already. If there has been a murder, especially if there’s been over 20 murders, it’s OK to finally call the cops. Mai is a SERIAL MURDERER, which should never mean “she can come back.”

I mean it’s not like any of these kids decided to start hanging out with Marik, right? And I mean they kinda all decided unanimously that maybe they should hold back chilling with Bakura? This should be old hat for them now. They’ve had to deal with the murderous betraying friend so many times. Why must Mai be so special?

But I guess that is Joey’s whole shpeal, isn’t it? That’s Joey’s magical superpower? He wouldn’t be friends with Yugi if he was bothered by his friend occasionally going Pure Asshole. And Joey did have a darker background himself (which is something the show keeps telling me but I have never actually seen because we haven’t seen it in Season Zero. Which honestly means I should do a Season Zero next because how long am I going to wait to watch that Joey backstory?)

So I guess I should stop being so practical about it, this is a fantasy story, and the fantasy of Joey Wheeler is that he can actually try to keep the people in his life from going topside and it actually works. The most magical person in all of Yugioh if that’s true because you ever try and change a drug addict? There’s a reason why they have therapists for that.

Speaking of topside,

Kaiba just shows up in the middle of a Joey meltdown and youknow what? He’s barely even that surprised that these guys are in San Fransisco crying on the floor of his ex-competitor’s lobby. He’s just so used to this.

And so, we’re all going to ignore Joey and just try not to notice Rex and Weevil and instead talk about cards.

Ps in the show Mokuba says his brother “swept the floor” of Alister when like...Seto nearly died multiple times. Mokuba’s so ready to lie his face off to save his brother’s face when like...no one asked. He just volunteered this information.

That and Mokuba might not actually know how this game is played (NO ONE REALLY KNOWS) and legitimately thinks his brother did really good in that card game. We still don’t know entirely what the title “Battle Commissioner” even meant and knowing this company it was probably a secret job made to hide lots and lots of illicit insider trading. Because we all know Mokuba wasn’t playing cards.

So, Yugi remembers that he has this key card that is a card with a key printed on it, and figures...it probably opens a door or something. That maybe they should do that thing they came to California to do, and since all (counts on fingers) 9 of them (10 if you count Pharaoh) are here, they may as well all do it together.

Meanwhile, every animator in that studio cried a single tear over the amount of bad hair they will have to shove into every frame between 9 of these people. Crowd scenes wow.

And what’s great about this next shot is that you have no idea which way Joey’s head is pointed. I dare you. take it in.

And so they all go up to the top floor with Duke Devlin while these two are just...still here.

Rex and Weevil are still here. Despite everything.

(forgive me if this is a joke I forgot I read off of tumblr once. I’ve been reviewing this show so long I just...I don’t remember what jokes I’ve already made)

(Also, I can’t believe they stuck in Rex and Weevil but didn’t put in Mokuba into this shot.)

So they open the cryptic door with the cryptic Keycard and enter...Pegasus’ room of toon suits.

I imagine he just pulls these out whenever there’s an event in the city, just like “Hell yes hell yes it’s Bay to Breakers time to be a parrot with boobs for some reason.”

(fun fact, despite the weather, SF is home to 3 clothes-optional beaches. You can see two of them from the Bridge.)

And so Pegasus decides to tell everybody what we already know. Rex and Weevil have overheard this, but they’re busy like...looking for trading cards in all these mascot suits. Whatever makes it easier for this team of animators. Like you never really think about it, but kid’s shows have just a hell ton of crowd scenes. Worse than a Marvel comic right here.

PS, if you are designing a comic or a drawn story of any degree--just never allow a party to be more than 4 people at a time, Kill off anyone you have to in order to make this happen, you’ll thank me later. Never EVER a draw a crowd scene. Once you do, then other people will think that you can draw crowd scenes, and you never, ever want anyone to know that.

It was nice of Pegasus to let Arthur Hawkin’s take the fame for Atlantis, I guess. But like...Pegasus just...he really doesn’t seem to care about the fate of humanity unless it inconveniences his card game.

Bro brought up “how much do you think Pharaoh even knows about America other than it’s a place across the sea that Rebecca lives? Like do you think that he has a good grasp on there being 7 continents?” and I’m guessing...not much. Course this is like a weird America with mesas and deserts in Napa so...I don’t know if the animators have a good grasp even.

Anyway, where do you think the key is?

And What do you think the key is?

So in the show Kaiba sees this card and goes “It’s a worthless card” (because I dunno maybe he forgot for the zillionth time that this was how he got turned into a playing card) and then Pharaoh replies “Maybe to you it is.” and like...

...You know the thought crossed Pharaoh’s mind.

To just put a little Seto in there.

Youknow, it took me 4 seasons but I can deffo see why and how Pegasus did it. If I were in Pegasus’ shoes, how long would it take me before the Kaiba kids are paper? Like 10-20 minutes tops? Especially with how completely insane Kaiba acts this episode?

And speaking of endless denial, Joey still hasn’t quite caught up to the plot.

He’s getting there, but he’s mentally still crying on the floor of the lobby.

Just Joey going all ham about a girl he hasn’t thought about in over a year. And then from the other side of the room, Kaiba is still coming to terms with Ep 2.

Like you have to hand it to Duke Devlin that not once in this entire series has he had a denial meltdown. Even Yugi had a denial meltdown (at several points) but Duke? Duke’s just winging it. Dukes just has no idea what’s happening or what he’s doing and is just winging it every second he’s been alive. He’d fit right into San Fransisco.

Like remember Duke hangs out in the bad parts of the Tenderloin for some reason, he deals with PG&E just deleting your power willy nilly and still making you pay for it, Comcast, Bay Area traffic, and, of course, the entire North Bay lighting on fire once a year, so he’s totally fine when it comes to cards.

And so Yugi, just unable to think of any solution to Kaiba being a wall just holds this up

And so with that, Kaiba has joined the party. I guess.

Well, back to eating this large stack of holiday cookies. Hope y’all have a good one--happy holidays!

It’s been a very weird year, but we’ve had some good news here in the States recently, I’m sure you all heard about it, that Inktober is legally unprofitable so now that means there will be nigh an Inktober ever again, and I am so stoked. I am so excited that the decade of hellish Inktobers is finally over.

That and the other stuff that happened but we won’t get into that ;)

Hopefully I’ll do another post before 2020 but I’m sort of in denial that 2020 is happening so I’m doing my best not to look at the calendar.

And if you just got here, this is where you can read my recaps in Chrono order from S1 Ep1

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splendidlyimperfect · 5 years ago

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Christmas Day brings happy reunions and unexpected complications.

Relationships: Natsu x Gray, Sting x Rogue Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Family Fluff, Home for Christmas, Meet-Cute, Airports, Blind Character, Disabled Character, Fluff, seriously just lots of fluff, Sting and Natsu are brothers, and are total shits to each other, Tumblr: FTLGBTales Series: Part 2 of Home for the Holidays 2019 @ftmlmages

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“Mom, did you move the coffee maker?”

Sting felt along the counter where the Keurig normally sat, sighing when his fingers found nothing but what seemed to be a decorative dish of some sort.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” his mom said, coming up behind him and taking his hand, guiding him over to the other end of the counter. “Your brother bought me one of those new ones and it didn’t fit there. Do you need me to show you how to use it?”

Sting frowned, running his fingertips over the buttons on the top of the unfamiliar machine. “Sure. I just need to know how to make the biggest cup possible.”

Sting’s mom laughed, letting him grab a mug from the cupboard before guiding him through the buttons and parts of the new machine.

“Did he move anything else around?” Sting asked when he was finally seated at the table with his coffee in hand. There was the sound of nails clicking on hardwood, and then a warm, wet nose pressed against Sting’s hand. “Hey, handsome,” he murmured, scratching behind Lector’s ears.

“Merry Christmas to you, too.” Natsu’s voice came from just behind Lector as he joined Sting at the table. “And I promise I didn’t move anything else. At least it’s not as bad as when mom lowered the counters.”

Sting snorted. “I had bruises on my hips for weeks, you asshole.”

“Yeah, but I made you grilled cheese to make up for it.”

“You burned some toast,” Sting corrected, “and then put liquid cheese on it. That doesn’t count.”

Continue reading on AO3

“He’s still a horrendous cook,” Gray said, coming up behind Sting and touching his shoulder before sitting down at the table as well. “Last week he forgot to put the pasta in the water and nearly ruined our best pot because he boiled it dry.”

“Look, you were the one who let me in the kitchen,” Natsu said, flicking something across the table at Gray. “You knew what you were getting into.”

“Boys,” their mom chided from the stove. “Play nice.”

“Yes, mom,” Sting and Natsu said in unison, then both burst out laughing.

“How’s the weather today?” Sting asked, nudging Gray’s shin with his foot.

“Gross.” Gray sighed, rapping on the window. “Ryos said his flight’s gonna make it, but it snowed another six inches or so overnight. I’m gonna have to shovel the driveway to get the car out.”

“I can help you,” Sting offered, wrapping his fingers around his coffee mug.

“We could just strap a shovel to Natsu and wheel him around out there,” Gray teased.

“Mm, we’d just have to find him some snow tires,” Sting added, laughing when Natsu smacked his shoulder.

As Gray and Natsu continued to bicker, Sting sighed happily, running his fingers through Lector’s fur. He’d missed this. Moving away had been a huge change, and even though he was glad to have his own space, being back here felt good.

“You all right, love?” His mom appeared next to him, fingers running through his hair, and he smiled and leaned into the touch.

“Yeah, mom,” he said softly. “Just happy to be home.”

They made it to Gray’s parents’ acreage just after lunch. Sting waited in the front entrance to avoid the inevitable chaos that ensued with a dog, two cats, a wheelchair, and Gray’s three nieces. Once everyone had cleared out, Sting felt a hand on his elbow.

“Hey! I haven’t seen you in a while, glad you made it.” The voice belonged to Lyon, Gray’s older brother and father of the three girls in the living room that were currently begging Natsu for a ride. “Need a hand?”

“Probably a good idea,” Sting said, nudging the pile of boots in front of him with a toe. “Natsu would never let it go if I tripped and ended up with a black eye at Christmas.”

“Mom would be mortified,” Lyon said, gently tugging on Sting’s elbow and guiding him toward the living room. “She’s been panicking all morning over whether or not her house was ‘acceptably accessible.’”

With Lyon’s help, Sting eventually ended up on the couch with Isabella, Lyon’s youngest daughter. “Do you read books with your fingers?” she asked, settling herself comfortably in his lap.

“Sometimes,” he said, laughing as she squirmed to get comfortable. She pressed a small book into his hands, and he shook his head. “Not this one, though. Only special books.”

“Here,” Natsu said, coming up beside them and taking the book. “You sit with Uncle Sting and I’ll read it, okay?”

Nearly an hour later, the front door banged open and Sting heard two people enter and begin to stomp snow off their boots. A cold gust of air drifted into the living room and Sting shivered, tucking his hands into his hoodie pocket.

“Jesus,” Natsu muttered, “it must be almost minus forty out there.” Sting could feel Lector thumping his tail in agreement.

“It’s freezing,” Gray grumbled as he stepped into the room. “And the roads are awful.”

“You survived, though,” Natsu teased, then yelped and added, “Get your goddamn icicle hands out of here!”

“But you’re so waaarm,” Gray teased, and Sting laughed as Natsu elbowed him in an attempt to push Gray away.

“Fuck off,” Natsu muttered affectionately.

“Language,” Gray said mildly. “There are kids here.”

“They’re busy with presents,” Natsu insisted. “And both our moms are in the kitchen, so shush.” Then his voice changed as he addressed the person who’d come into the house with Gray – Ryos, Sting assumed. “Good to see you! You survived my husband’s insane driving?” There was a mumbled affirmative and Natsu laughed, then reached over and touched Sting’s knee. “This is my brother—”

“Sting?” The voice was deep and warm, and very familiar.

“Rogue?”

“Wait,” Gray interjected, “You two know each other?”

Before Sting could answer, Lector had wriggled out from under Sting’s legs and darted over toward where Rogue’s voice was coming from. “Hey, boy,” Rogue said, laughing. “Yeah, we—”

Sting could hear the second that Natsu put the pieces together and exclaimed, “The cute guy from the airport!” Sting sighed, rubbing his face and pushing Natsu’s hand away.

“Ryos, huh?” he said, standing up and moving closer to Rogue.

“These two are literally the only people who call me that,” Rogue said. A warm hand touched Sting’s and he laughed, pulling Rogue into a hug.

“I’m really, really happy to see you,” Sting murmured in Rogue’s ear, hopefully quietly enough that Natsu and Gray wouldn’t hear him.

“Me too,” Rogue said, lips brushing Sting’s cheek as he pulled back. His hand lingered on Sting’s hip for a few seconds longer than was necessary, and it made something in Sting’s stomach twist happily. “I can’t believe we both ended up at the same place. I had a layover because I used points for the tickets and they always send you somewhere ridiculous.”

“This is like something out of a chick flick,” Natsu commented in the background.

“Gray, please smack your husband for me,” Sting said.

“With pleasure.” There was a muttered ouch, fuck you, and the beginning of a threat of retaliation before they were interrupted by Gray’s mom calling them all to the table.

Dinner was chaotic. It took two tables end to end to accommodate all twelve of them, and Sting hoped his grin wasn’t too obvious when he found himself sitting next to Rogue, elbows touching as they grabbed their glasses of champagne and tipped them forward to toast.

“I’m gonna explode,” Natsu groaned dramatically after dinner as they regrouped on the sofa. Sting could hear Lyon and Juvia putting the kids to bed while the “real grown-ups” (according to Natsu) did the dishes.

“Seriously, I’m never going to eat again,” Natsu said, tipping his head against Sting’s shoulder. Sting rolled his eyes, pushing Natsu toward the other end of the couch where Gray was stretched out.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have eaten half the dish of mashed potatoes,” Sting suggested. Rogue, who was sitting on Sting’s other side in the corner of the sectional, snorted.

“I have no regrets,” Natsu announced, shifting closer to Gray. “They were delicious.”

“Everything was great,” Rogue said. Sting could feel the heat of him; the way he was sitting, one arm draped over the back of the couch. Part of him was tempted to lean into it. His cheeks were already flushed from the champagne, and the comfortable way that Rogue had touched him throughout dinner – taps on the back of his hand, knees resting together, shoulders bumping.

“You guys wanna play a game?” Gray asked. Before Sting could answer, Natsu interrupted.

“We are not playing Bananagrams,” he insisted. “Or Uno. Sting is freakishly good at both of those and he always wins.”

“How can you be ‘freakishly good’ at Uno?” Rogue asked, laughing. “Isn’t it a game of chance?”

“Ask the person who has won the last twenty-six games we’ve played,” Natsu grumbled. “He’s probably cheating.”

Sting was about to toss a throw pillow at Natsu when there was a thunderous crash outside, followed by a loud, sharp bang and then total silence.

“What—”

Sting’s question was interrupted by someone shouting down the hallway, then the sound of glass shattering and a sharp cry from the kitchen. The couch jostled and Sting felt Rogue stand up quickly, then there were footsteps and concerned voices moving out of the living room.

“Natsu?” Sting reached out and exhaled in relief when he found Natsu’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Natsu reassured him, shifting until they were sitting next to each other. “The power’s out, something must have happened to the pole outside. I can’t fuckin’ see anything.”

“Oh, no,” Sting said, rolling his eyes. “How horrible for you.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Natsu grumbled. “Gray and Rogue took off for the kitchen. I think someone dropped something when the lights went out.”

“Where’s your wheelchair?”

“By the TV.” Natsu sighed. “I could probably make it over there but it’s pitch black and the kids left all their toys all over the floor.”

Sting squeezed Natsu’s hand reassuringly. “Doesn’t your phone have a flashlight?”

“Yeah, but I can’t find it.”

There was a quiet woof next to them and suddenly Lector was there, nosing at their joined hands. “Good boy,” Sting murmured, petting his head. “It’s okay.” He reached into his back pocket and tugged out his phone, then pressed it into Natsu’s hand. “I’m not sure how to turn the light on,” he said, “but you can try?”

They sat in silence for a minute while Natsu fiddled with the phone, sighing in exasperation. “They’ll be back,” Sting said gently. “They’re just helping the others.”

“I know that,” Natsu grumbled. “But Gray should know better than to just…”

“Leave you behind?” Sting could feel Natsu nodding, and he sighed, thinking about the last time the office had a fire drill and he’d been left with Lector, standing by the stairs and not sure which way to go.

As if reading their minds, Gray reappeared in front of them and crouched down in front of the couch. “I’m so sorry,” he said, slightly out of breath. “That was—I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“Is everyone okay?” Sting asked.

“My mom dropped one of the glass bowls and stepped on a piece of it,” Gray said. “She cut her foot, but it doesn’t seem too bad. I think everyone else is fine – Isabella’s a bit freaked out, but the other two are still asleep.”

Natsu didn’t say anything.

“Hey,” Gray said gently. Natsu let go of Sting’s hand and he could feel Gray taking hold of Natsu’s arms. “I’m so sorry. To both of you, that was—I wasn’t thinking, I just panicked when I heard mom yelling. I should have said something, that wasn’t fair.”

“It happens,” Natsu said, but Sting could hear the tense frustration in his voice. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Gray insisted. “I’m sorry.” He shifted closer to Natsu, but Sting could still hear the quiet, “I love you,” that he whispered.

“I’m sorry, too,” Rogue added, appearing next to Sting and settling back down on the couch. An immediate sense of relief flooded through Sting and he shifted closer to Rogue’s warmth without thinking.

“It’s okay,” Sting reassured him. Natsu grumbled out an agreement, and Sting asked, “What happened?”

“The storm took out that big tree in front of the house,” Rogue said. “It knocked out the power and fell across your mom’s car and Gray’s.” His voice was soft and uncertain.

“Jesus.” Natsu sighed, pressing Sting’s phone back into his hand. “Glad I left my car at home. All right, I forgive you for being an idiot.” Sting heard him kiss Gray. “Did someone call the power company to see how long it’ll be out? We’re gonna freeze.”

“Lyon’s trying to get through, but the hold times are insane,” Gray said. “Their Twitter account says they don’t know how long it’ll be.” He sighed. “Lyon’s got his SUV with winter tires so they should be able to take the kids and mom back into the city, they can stay at a hotel or something.”

“But we’re stuck in the cabin in the woods, huh?” Natsu teased.

“Looks like it.”

Rogue was suspiciously quiet, and Sting frowned, reaching out and touching his hand. It was trembling. “You okay?” he asked quietly. The affirmative sound Rogue made didn’t sound convincing. Sting squeezed his hand, shifting closer. “What’s wrong?”

“Just adrenaline,” Rogue said quickly. “I’m fine.”

“Does he look like he’s lying?” Sting asked, nudging Natsu with his elbow.

“I can’t see his face either,” Natsu said, laughing. “No power, remember?”

“I’m not lying,” Rogue muttered indignantly. “It’s just…” His voice trailed off and Sting barely caught his mumbled, “It’s really dark.”

Part of Sting was tempted to tease him like he’d done with Natsu, but he could sense a genuine unease behind Rogue’s words. Instead he shifted closer, slipping his fingers between Rogue’s.

“Why don’t we get the fireplace going downstairs?” he suggested, poking Gray with his foot. “Are the others leaving right away?” He could hear Isabella calling for her mom over the background of muffled talking in the kitchen.

“I think so,” Gray said. “We have a bunch of blankets down there, too, that might not be a bad idea.” He sighed and pushed himself up.

“Don’t even bother with the chair,” Natsu said. “You get to carry me as punishment for being a jerk.”

“I wasn’t a jerk!”

“You kinda were.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Right, and now you can show me how sorry you are by carrying me downstairs and making me a pillow nest.”

Sting laughed at Gray’s exasperated sigh, feeling the couch dip again as he pulled Natsu up. “You okay?” he asked, and Sting assumed the question was directed at Rogue.

“I’ll live,” Rogue said. Then he squeezed Sting’s hand and asked, “Do you, um… can I help you? Or is that—does Lector?”

Sting laughed, bumping his shoulder against Rogue’s. “Lector can’t see in the dark either,” he teased.

“Oh. Right.” Rogue groaned. “Sorry, I’m so bad at this.”

“It’s cute,” Sting insisted, pushing himself up and tugging Rogue after him. “I’m assuming you have a flashlight?” Rogue made an affirmative sound and Sting let go of his hand regretfully, moving his fingers up to Rogue’s elbow instead.

“Please don’t hate me if I accidentally walk you into something,” Rogue said, kicking something aside and taking a cautious step forward.

“Don’t worry,” Sting reassured him. “I still put up with Natsu and he literally knocked me into a pool one time.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Natsu shouted back from down the hallway.

“It was definitely his fault,” Sting said. He could still feel the hesitation in the way Rogue moved and he rubbed his thumb against the back of Rogue’s arm, happy when some of the tension dissipated under his touch.

“I trust you,” Sting said gently, nudging Rogue forward into the dark. “Just lead the way.”

#fairy tail #ftlgbtales #ftlgbtfics #ftlgbtholidays2019 #ftmlmages #gratsu #stingue #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #gray fullbuster #natsu dragneel #fanfic #my fic

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our-smooty · 5 years ago

Text

Rushing In, Rushing Out

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Crowley has Depression, Aziraphale is a good Husband, Crying, Snuggling, Nightmares

Summary: Crowley has a nightmare

It burned, worse than the coldest wind, hotter than the hottest fire in Hell. It seared through him with a force so powerful it brought him to his knees, forced his head to the floor where he ground his forehead against the rocks. His teeth cracked from the force of his clenched jaw and his fingernails bent back as he scrabbled against the ground. The pain was so immense, so powerful that it felt unreal, like an impossibility. Unfortunately, that thought didn’t last long because how could he think when he was falling?

Wait, he wasn’t Falling-falling, was he? Oh, but it was impossible to think as he streaked downward like a dark shooting star. He should know, he made those. Hung them for Her, as a service to Her. And now he was Falling, because that was the only thing this could be and She was ripping Her love from him bit by torturous bit. That may have hurt worse than the burning but it was impossible to separate the two because they both intertwined and ripped him apart in ways he’d never thought possible.

Then came the sulphuric acid and the real Hellfire and he realized he’d been wrong before. Nothing could be hotter than this, this all-consuming, universe-ending heat that settled in his bones and made them crack apart like stones in a fire. His skin melted and grew again, thousands of times until it blackened and hardened like scales. He was remade, reborn in fire and pain as something else, devoid of Her love and Her light.

And that was the final pain, that loss, the gaping empty hole where She had been and now was obviously, achingly not. He’d didn’t have a word for it yet but later he would call it heartbreak to the highest degree. Like everything good had been scooped out and he’d been left empty and nameless, to burn for eternity. To broil in the heat and flames of Hell, even when he was walking on Her creation thousands of years later, it would feel as if it’d just happened.

Don’t make me, he begged internally as his skin split and his blood boiled. There was no escape, he couldn’t move. Don’t make me live like this. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--I didn’t want to--

One minute Crowley was burning and the next he was suffocating. Something was over his mouth and body, keeping him pinned in place. Though he didn’t need to breathe the fact that he couldn’t was alarming, especially to his groggy, nightmare filled mind. Crowley liked control and something was taking away that control. He was terrified, and in pain beyond comprehension.

Slowly as he woke up more and more he realized it was really his collection of blankets and pillows keeping him from moving. One of the feather ones had wedged itself over his face, while his arms and legs were wrapped up in the bedding like a mummy. He must have been trashing around during the night.

Even though he knew what was keeping him still it didn’t make things any easier. Turning his head enabled him to breathe freely again, and when that happened the hyperventilating began. Black dots danced in front of Crowley’s vision and he wondered if demons could pass out. It felt like it, but he never did. It was a little disappointing, the timeless blackness of unconsciousness would have been a blessing. Probably why he didn't deserve it.

His arms and legs were still trapped, and no amount of panicked wiggling was going to free him, so Crowley was stuck until he calmed down. Which wasn’t going to happen any time soon because he could still see it, the fire and the Fall, when he closed his eyes and it hurt. He could will the hurt away, at least a little if he could focus, but the nightmare was still so fresh and present he half expected to open his eyes and see nothing but flames and smoke.

Something moved by his right hand. It startled him immensely because one of the things he remembered about Falling was that after the actually falling down bit, it had been extremely still. That had been one of the horrors of it, being in so much pain but completely paralyzed. The movement happened again and he was able to twitch his fingers enough to grab at it. He felt the familiar smooth glass of his phone. He liked to be on top of the latest technological advancements, even if they were confusing and infuriating sometimes.

By some miracle--hah--he was able to maneuver the phone into his hand and turn his head enough to see the screen. Knowing his luck it’d be a telemarketer, or someone from Downstairs finally getting on his case again. When his eyes focused on the screen he was surprised to see a number of missed calls, all from Aziraphale.

6 new messages the screen read, among the other drivel and notifications. Fighting through the pain Crowley unlocked the screen and press the speakerphone button, letting it fall limply aside as the messages began to play in order.

“Crowley! The most interesting little hole-in-the-wall opened up down the road and a customer told me the sever the amazing duck in cherry and red wine sauce and I thought we might try it together. Ring me back”

He didn’t have the energy to stop it, so the next message played. “It’s me. Haven’t heard from you in a little while, and I just wanted to check up. We can go wherever you like, even one of those blasted clubs you’re always talking about. Alright, talk to you soon dear.”

“Did I do something?” The third message started. Aziraphale sounded quiet and sombre like he’d been overthinking things again. Please call me back, Crowley. I’m sorry, for whatever it is. I’m sorry.”

The fourth was mostly silence, interspersed with the occasional hiccup or sigh or sniffle. When Aziraphale did speak, he sounded incredibly drunk. “C-Crowley, my de--my darling. S’been so long. I keep--I keep thinking that maybe Hell has you--took you away. Oh, Crowley, please call--” The rest of the message was more drunken crying before the machine timed out and the next one played.

“--owley, we’re calling you to inform you that you are eligible for--” this time he did have the willpower to mash the delete key. He wished he’d never invented telemarketing. The final message clicked on before he even had time to breathe. Despite the fact that the messages were far from pleasant, just the sound of his angel’s voice was calming him down.

“It’s been months Crowley. I’ve looked for you everywhere. You’re either gone, or you’re in your flat and I--I won’t invade your space. If you want to speak with me, my number will remain the same. Just know that I care for you, and will be waiting for you.”

It broke his heart, to hear his angel trying so hard to sound like he wasn’t affected. Crowley had heard that exact tone dozens of times: every time Aziraphale turned him down, or pushed him away, or denied there was something between them. He’d heard it when he’d pushed too far too fast and made the angel back away in fear. So many times.

The messages left a clear picture. Crowley had been sleeping for much longer than he intended. When he’ gone down it’d been only for a normal night, but apparently, it’d been quite a few nights. It wasn’t unheard of for this to happen to him, but he’d always gone in with the intent for sleeping for a while. It’d explain why he was so stiff and felt so weak; without the provisions provided by Hell (they had pretty much cut him off after the whole Stopping the End of the World thing) his body was worn and sickly. He wouldn’t die, still couldn’t probably, but he must have looked awful.

He was calm now, or as calm as he could be. Now that it was easier to think he snapped his fingers and the sheets disappeared entirely, whisked off to some mountaintop in Tibet. Finally, he could move and he did, starting with his toes and working upwards one joint at a time. It hurt, but less than when he’d first woke up. The pain was settling back down to its normal level, more of a background agony instead of a mind-shattering pain. Normal for him, and even that small change was a relief.

Finally, Crowley was able to sit up against the headboard and miracle up a cup of water and some toast. Later when he was feeling better he’d be able to set himself back to rights, but for now, he needed to take things slow. The toast went down alright, and so did the water, which was a good sign. He was running blind here, having never had to tend to needs, even in this weird, immortal demon sort of way.

As he munched on the toast, he stared at his phone. That last message had only been left a few minutes ago. It’d been what broke him out of that hole he’d been in, right when he’d woken up. And Aziraphale… well, that was a whole nother situation entirely. Since the end of the world that wasn’t things between them had been different, better. They’d spent days together, sometimes entire weeks. They still had lunch and dinner and nights filled with alcohol, but there was something else there now too. Something Crowley didn’t dare let himself hope for.

Just like always the thought of the things he couldn’t have with Aziraphale made his stomach drop, That reawakened the anxiety from the dream, which had only been temporarily dispelled by his angel’s voice. It probably wouldn’t go away unless he drank himself silly, or if he--

Crowley’s gaze nearly burned holes through the cellphone in his hand. He should call Aziraphale back. It would help calm him down, he knew, just hearing the angel’s voice. But that last message… Aziraphale wanted to speak with him, but did Crowley deserve that? For putting the other through all that pain, for once again disappearing without a word. For being a demon, something unworthy and Fallen and beyond redemption. For well, everything.

But if there was one thing he knew, it was that he could never deny the angel anything, and he’d begged Crowley to call him so…

The phone had barely rung before Aziraphale picked up. It was suspiciously fast like he’d been waiting by the phone since he left that last message. It was faster than Crowley had been ready for, and it left him stuttering.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, breathless and slightly off-pitch. Crowley knew he should say something but the words were getting stuck in the back of his throat. It occurred to him that he probably should have gotten up and gotten another drink to wash the ashy taste of Hell from his mouth. “Crowley, is that you?”

“Yess,” the demon rasped after a while. His voice was incredibly rough and his throat hurt. Had he been screaming in his sleep? “It’ss me.”

“Oh dear, I’m so glad to hear from you! I will be right over and--”

“No!” Crowley croaked, cutting the other off. “I-I mean, can we--like this?” He really should have thought this through before making the call. But he wasn’t ready to see the angel yet, not until he knew how this was going to play out.

Another pause before Aziraphale answered. “Of course, my darling. Are you--are you quite alright?” No, he thought, but I don’t know what’s wrong. Of course, there was the nightmare and the constant pain but that was all normal. No, he hadn’t felt like this since after their fight in St. James Park, about the holy water. When he’d slept for nearly a century because facing the years with Aziraphale angry with him felt impossible.

“I don’t know what’ss wrong. Angel I--I didn’t mean to sleep--” He wished he was still asleep. Even the nightmares were better than this. He was all-too-aware of the tired ache in his body and the nagging exhaustion in his brain. “I’m ssorry.”

“Whatever for?” Aziraphale asked softly, his voice close to the receiver. He asked gently like it really was a request and Crowley could just hang up any minute. “If this is about how long you’ve been gone, I forgave you the moment I heard your voice again.”

And oh, wasn’t that like a wave of healing over his body. Not the kind that took away the pain, but the kind that smoothed out his rough, jagged edges and made it all more bearable.

“Still sssorry,” he hissed, clenching his eyes shut and his fights tight. Though his muscles screamed in protest, he curled tighter against the headboard, like he was trying to get away form something. Where he’d been too hot when he woke up from the dream, he was now ice cold and shivering.

Aziraphale made a disapproving noise over the phone, one Crowley had heard many times. “I think we both know you didn’t intend to be away for so long. I forgive you.” There it was again, like a pulse of love through his entire being that chased away the feelings of despair and desolation.

“Can you...?” It was hard, to ask anything of Aziraphale sometimes. Crowley felt so unworthy. It wasn’t his place to make a request when the angel already gave so much, but he needed him here, now he knew he wasn’t angry. He knew it was too much, too fast, but he needed it so badly he couldn’t not say something.

“Of course, my dear. Shall I get us breakfast on my way over?” Crowley had seen the time when he’d check his messages and it was nowhere near breakfast time. But it was so normal, so Aziraphale, that he couldn’t say no.

“Ssure, yeah,” he hummed, knowing he would probably only pick at whatever Aziraphale picked up. “Coffee?”

“If that’s what you want. I’ll be there soon, Crowley.” He could hear the smile in the angel’s voice.

“Yeah.” Aziraphale ended the call and Crowley let himself slither back down the bed into a prone position. It would take Aziraphale at least half an hour to get to his apartment, maybe longer if he waffled over breakfast options. The demon knew he should get up, take a shower or miracle himself into a presentable appearance instead of clothes he’d been sleeping in for who knows how long. But it seemed like the burst of energy that had enabled him to call the angel back was fading, and getting up seemed monumental. Instead, he rolled over and re-materialized the blankets. He’d get up when he knew Aziraphale was 5 minutes away, he would.

When he opened his eyes again it was only because someone was knocking on his front door. He knew it had to be Aziraphale because he was the only entity in existence who still refused to use doorbells. Crowley groaned and sat up. The polite, but insisting knocking continued. He managed a quick miracle to straighten himself out a bit, and to tidy the apartment. It wasn’t perfect, and he still looked dishevelled, but it was better than nothing.

Crowley shuffled over to the door and swung it open without hesitation. As he stared at the angel on his doorstep he realized he hadn’t thought to grab his sunglasses. Immediately his gaze trained on Aziraphale’s shoes, eye contact without that usual barrier feeling too difficult.

“My goodness Crowley. I hope this doesn’t come across as terribly rude but you look dreadful!” he fretted, moving his hands, which were full of takeaway bags, like he wanted to smooth the wrinkles from Crowley’s clothes and face himself.

“Thankss,” Crowley answered dryly, moving out of the doorway so Aziraphale could pass. He knew where the kitchen was and he bustled through to set the bags down, immediately looking through Crowley’s cupboards for plates and cups. “What did you get?”

This felt so normal, even if they didn’t eat at Crowley’s place very often. “Well I’d wanted to try the pancakes but I knew those wouldn’t travel well. They’d be terribly mushy you know. So I went ahead and got a selection of scones and pastries instead. Your coffee is in that bag.” He pointed to a smaller bag on the counter. Crowley went straight to it, pulling both cups out and setting the angel’s tea to the side before sipping his coffee. His tastebud seemed confused at the sudden reintroduction of food and tastes, but again it was nothing compared to that time in the 19th century so he powered through until he was drinking normally.

“Ssounds good.” Truthfully he didn’t feel very hungry but he knew it was just Aziraphale’s way of providing comfort, and his body definitely needed the sustenance. Sometimes they were frustrating, these human corporations. Especially now that Hell had cut off his connection, though he was still able to do some things it seemed.

He sat at the breakfast nook--because he never had the need for a full-size dining room, and the angel didn’t like bar seating--with the coffee. Shortly afterward he was presented with a plateful of carb-filled delights and delicate jams. Aziraphale sat opposite him with his own plate, hands poised over the pastries.

“Well, dig in then my good fellow,” he encouraged, grabbing a scone of his own and taking a bite. “They’re just, well, I would say Heavenly but…”

Crowley gave a mirthless chuckle as he picked up one and took a nibble. It tasted good, but muted, like when you can’t get the recipe just right. He set it back down and took up the coffee again, which was warm at least. The chill from earlier was creeping back in as the silence between stretched. He’d called the angel over here, but did that mean he had to be the one who did all the talking? The idea of having Aziraphale around had sounded good, but in reality, Crowley’s mind was barely functioning and that made things difficult.

“Thanks,” he mumbled around a mouthful of coffee. He was struck with the realization that he hadn’t looked at the date. “How long wass I…”

“8 months,” came the answer. Crowley felt both destroyed at the fact he’d left his angel alone for that long, and relived it wasn’t much, much longer. Aziraphale must have seen the look on his face, because he didn’t dwell. “You said--on the phone, you said something was wrong? Was that what made you feel the need to sleep?”

Crowley shrugged a shoulder. “It’s nothing. It happenss sometimes. I shouldn’t have ssaid anything.” He was regretting this more and more. As inconspicuously as he could, Crowley procured a set of sunglasses and shoved them onto his face. They brought back a small bit of his dignity, and he sat a little straighter.

“Well I’m glad you did, you sounded so upset, my dear,” Aziraphale sipped at his own drink, pointedly raising an eyebrow when Crowley conjured the glasses out of thin air. Crowley ignored the look.

“Can we jussst drop it, Aziraphale?” He was beginning to regret waking up. Scratch that, he’d been regretting it for a while now, even if being around Aziraphale was--ugh--nice. Hopefully, Aziraphale wouldn’t be staying too long, he’d like to get back to the darkness interspersed with nightmares, dulled by a couple of bottles of wine of course.

But the angel wasn’t having it. “Can we just--? No, we cannot!” Aziraphale set his drink aside, not even looking at the pastries anymore.

“Why not? It was just a nap, I was ssstill half-asleep.” His hiss was getting worse again. It often came out when he was upset or angry or drunk. It was embarrassing, not being able to control it and having it slip out and let the other know he was really affected. Crowley didn’t like to seem affected.

“Crowley…” The angel reached over the tiny table to touch, the barest brush of fingers, Crowley’s hand not occupied by the coffee cup. It took a significant amount of self-control not to jerk away. “You seem.. Unwell and I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to but I am willing to listen. Unless you’d rather talk with someone else, I don’t want to pressure you, my dear.”

Why did the angel have to be so nice? Sure Aziraphale could be a bit of a bastard sometimes, and he had many less-than angelic qualities, but when it came down to it he cared so much for everyone and everything. Crowley kind of wished Aziraphale would get angry and give him something to feel defensive about. It’d never happen.

“I don’t want to talk to anyone elsssse,” he admitted, eyes glued to the table. “There’ss nothing to talk about.”

Aziraphale looked disappointed, but he backed off like he said he would. He didn’t let go of Crowley’s hand though, instead worming his fingers further between the demon’s, holding it for real now. The angel had soft hands and manicured nails, of course. His thumb ran over the veiny back in a soothing motion, though it felt too electric to be fully comforting. He never wanted to let go.

“If you’re sure, then. I’d like to spend some time with you, still. If you’ll let me. We could go for a walk in the park?” That would interfere with his plans to drink himself into oblivion, but he’d never been able to say no to Aziraphale.

“If you want, ssure,” he answered, staring at their hands. He wasn’t really up to going out, but he’d do whatever the angel wanted to do. Aziraphale gave their hands one last squeeze before letting go. Crowley immediately missed their warmth.

“Why don’t you go sort yourself out, and we can go?” Crowley nodded and stood mechanically, heading back to his room to get ready. Sure he could just miracle himself dressed and clean but he wanted to put off actually going out for as long as possible. Luckily this flat had a state-of-the-art en-suite, fitted with an absolutely Hellishly good rain showerhead. With little ceremony, Crowley stripped down and tossed himself under the showerhead then cranked the water on as hot as it could go (which was much hotter than a normal, human shower could go thanks to a little demonic tinkering).

Crowley’s shower was full of oils and washes and fancy scrubs that he liked to treat himself with on occasion and during his sheds. Right then though, he didn't have the energy to indulge He barely had the energy to stand. In fact, sitting sounded pretty good and he did so, curling up on the bottom of the shower.

For fuck sake, they had stopped the apocalypse, he should be happy. Instead, he’d slept the better part of the year away, left Aziraphale alone, and still couldn’t do something as simple as have breakfast and go to the park. He dug his nails--dark with chipped nail polish--into his arm and sat in a half-aware state in the bottom of the shower for who knew how long before a knock on the door startled him.

“Crowley? You have been in there an awfully long time dear and I wanted to make sure you’re alright,” Aziraphale called, concern dripping from every word. Somehow Crowley could hear him as clearly as if he was standing in the shower too, even over the sounds of water.

He was tired of lying, which was weird because he was a demon. But he’d been lying to himself and to his angel for too long. Pretending that everything was going to be alright, that he and the angel would always come out on top. They may have saved the world and all of existence as they knew it, but what was the point, really? Not that he wanted the world and all the humans to not exist, but maybe he’d like that for himself. For a little while. So instead of lying again, he kept quiet, hoping that Aziraphale’s sense of propriety kept him from barging into the bathroom.

“I’m coming in!” So much for that. Crowley couldn’t help but wrap his arms around himself a little tighter. At some point, his wings had come out and though the shower was decadently spacious, they were still cramped and very damp. He was beyond the point of caring about his nudity, not like he’d made an Effort anyway, but he was a little concerned at how Aziraphale would react to how thin he’d become. “Crowley, what are you doing?”

The demon took in a deep breath of warm, wet air then sighed in response. Despite his Hellish nature, his human body was beginning to flush with the heat. It felt like a warm summer’s day compared to the Fall. Apparently, Aziraphale didn’t realize that fact, because immediately he was striding over and shutting the water off with a decisive snap.

“It’s boiling in here, and look at your skin…” Crowley felt the feather-light press of fingertips to his shoulder. “Darling I know you’re a demon but you must be careful with yourself.”

“Doesssn’t matter,” he whispered, jerking away from the kind touch even though all he wanted was the be comforted. His wings flexed and contracted like he was unconsciously trying to soothe himself. “Go away.”

Suddenly he was dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, miraculously dry and cozy. His wings were dry as well, though he quickly hid them. They were outside the shower now too a respectful distance apart though Aziraphale looked like he wanted to be closer. Despite the heat Crowley felt himself trembling occasionally.

“Will you come with me Crowley?” he asked, nodding towards the door. Now that he was out and standing, all Crowley wanted to do was sit back down. But the idea of doing that on the bathroom floor was kind of gross, even if he did have regular maid service come in. So he nodded wearily and followed the angel out into the bedroom.

“Why don’t you lay down, and I’ll go heat up our drinks.” The angel bustled off and left Crowley standing beside the bed. Well, he had wanted to go back to sleep. Maybe when he woke up, this mood would be over. Maybe he’d sleep until the next end of the world.

He was just getting comfortable when Aziraphale trotted back in, their take-out drinks now cozy in mugs the demon was sure he’d seen at the bookshop. His coffee was placed on the bedside table nearest him and the angel’s tea on the other side. After a few moments of silence, he felt the bed dip slightly with the other’s weight.

“Is this ok?” Aziraphale asked, not actually getting onto the bed but just leaning his knees against it. Crowley took a long time to answer, torn between wanting to dive into the deep oblivion sleep would provide, and craving the angel’s comfort. Eventually, he jerked his head in a small nod, though he also turned on his side away from the other.

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale said, getting fully onto the mattress. Crowley tried not to react as the angel got comfortable under the comforter, but eventually, the temptation of seeing him in whatever pyjamas he’d miricaled up won through the depression and he rolled over. He was greeted with a monstrosity of tartan and flannel material. At least that gave him an excuse not to look the other in the eye.

“I’m sorry for suggesting the walk,” Aziraphale said softly, looking sadly at the demon. “I’d read somewhere that going out can help humans when they’re feeling… well I should have realized things are a bit beyond that.”

Crowley shrugged. “Wasss a good idea. It’sss me.” Normally it wouldn’t take him this long to bounce back. He’d made it through the Black Plague, the Spanish Inquisition, the advent of Jnco Jeans. He should be able to get past something as simple as the end of the world.

“It’s alright to be upset, Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, looking like he wanted to touch the demon again. His hands were fidgeting in the comforter closer to Crowley’s than was probably necessary. “Though you seemed alright before your… nap. We’d been talking about going to Tadfield and looking for a little cottage.”

Oh. He’d forgotten that little tidbit entirely, but now it was coming back. Trust Aziraphale to suggest moving to the countryside together before getting up the nerve to actually kiss him. Things had been odd after the end, and Crowley hadn’t been 100% sure on where they stood in terms of their together-ness. But apparently, the angel hadn’t had those reserves because, despite the fact they hadn’t even once had a hug longer than 5 seconds, he’d brought up the idea of moving away together over fucking sushi. Crowley had been confused, elated, nervous, and strangely teary-eyed at the proposition.

“Ngk,” Crowley said, because really how was he supposed to deal with all that on top of everything else today? The angel’s hands stilled as he watched Crowley struggle to respond.

“Is that what this is about? Because, my dear, it would be fine if Tadfield isn’t to your liking, or even if you don’t want to--” Crowley made another noise, something kind of like a grunt but more tired. “Wrong again?”

Though the idea of moving in with Aziraphale and the uncertainty of their relationship had been stressful, Crowley hadn’t even remembered about it until now. No, it was becoming clear that his current state, and the state that had caused him to sleep for so long was more complicated than that.

“It’sss… a lot,” Crowley mumbled into his pillow, fingers playing with the edge of the case. “I dunno what exactly…”

“And this has happened before?” Aziraphale asked, sinking a little lower in the bed so he was nearly laying down. Crowley nodded. “After our tif in St. James?”

“And after the Arc, and WWII.” There’d been more times than that, but those were the most significant. The Arc had been the first time he’d seen death on that scale mandated by Her even though she was meant to be loving. Their fight had come at a bad time, when he was already feeling quite off after a particularly nasty job in southern Spain. And WWII, his first time seeing a modern war in all it’s horror…

Aziraphale’s hand was getting closer. Crowley didn’t pull away. “You never said anything.”

“Didn’t want you to fuss.” The more they talked the calmer he felt. His hiss disappeared and his mind focused slightly.

“Everyone deserves to be fussed over when they’re feeling ill, Crowley,” Aziraphale hummed. Slowly, so slowly Crowley almost didn’t notice, the angel moved his hand so their fingertips were touching. This time Crowley was ready, and so, so in need of comfort that he didn’t pull away.

“I had a nightmare.” He focused on the feeling of skin touching skin. “A-about when I--about Falling.”

Aziraphale slipped his fingers closer into Crowley’s palm as he kept talking. “It felt so real, and it--I woke up but it still hurt. It always hurts but not like that.” He hadn’t told Aziraphale that before. He wasn’t sure if the angel knew that all demons carried that pain around, but judging by the way his eyes softened in sadness, he hadn’t.

“I’m so sorry, darling. You don’t deserve to suffer so.”

That almost made Crowley laugh. “I’m a demon, angel.” Immediately Aziraphale’s hand was sliding past his palm and to his wrist, gripping lightly.

“You are. But you are also very caring, and you feel things deeply, and you are so empathetic to every living thing. You are so lovely, Crowley, so good.”

Crowley froze completely, eyes wide and staring at their hands. Did Aziraphale know that that was the first time anyone had ever-- Well, the angel was really hitting him with a lot of curveballs today. “What?”

At least the other had the awareness to sound sheepish. “Too much?”

“N-no,” Crowley stuttered, shuffling just a little closer. Something inside him shifted. This had been Hell, but he was starting to feel glad he’d called Aziraphale. Even if he didn’t want to actually deal with all of this, and would rather be sleeping, Aziraphale’s presence was making it bearable. Not to mention some of the stuff he was saying, and the things he was doing with his fingers against the delicate skin of Crowley’s wrist.

“Good. Could I…? Unless it’s too much…” The stroking against his wrist stopped and Aziraphale edged closer. “I would very much like to give you a hug, my dear.”

Honestly, he didn’t know if he could handle it, but he really wanted to try. With a slight nod, Aziraphale began to move even closer, a smile on his lips. Crowley felt his warmth now, different from the scalding heat of the shower in all the best ways. The angel was obviously wary, given how he’d reacted to his previous touches. Crowley steeled himself, tensing up in the expectation the touch would be too much again but was surprised to find the gentle press of Aziraphale’s arms around him quite relaxing.

“Alright?” Aziraphale asked, his face somewhere by Crowley’s neck. The demon answered by resting his own arms around Aziraphale’s waist and nuzzling into his collar. The full-body shudder that accompanied their new closeness only cemented the point further. Soon enough, Crowley and Aziraphale were pressed as close together as possible, the angel shielding Crowley from the outside world as best he could. For Crowley, the gentle touch was relieving; everywhere they touched the pain and burning from The Fall felt that much less intense.

“S’nice,” he mumbled, tightening his hold on the back of Azirphale’s pyjamas.

Aziraphale chuckled. “A four-letter word? I’ll take that as high praise, my love.” The affectionate name tacked onto the end was very, very new and it made Crowley blush.

“Your what?” he asked, voice strangled and now he really was going to cry. Hot tears ran down his cheeks, soaking the angel’s shoulder and making Crowley’s eyes sting. He desperately hoped he hadn’t misheard, but he didn’t know what to do if he’d heard right.

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, and the demon felt soft lips pressing to his forehead like Holy Water, but cool and refreshing. “I had hoped you knew, but I’ve been so foolish. I love you, dear boy. And I will be here as long as you need me, forever, even.”

Crowley choked and gasped, grabbing so tight his nails bit into skin through the angel’s bedclothes. “You can’t--Forever--I-I, I’ll be--”

Aziraphale hushed him, but Crowley knew he knew what he meant. Maybe they could talk about it tomorrow or in a few days. Whenever this feeling of deep sadness and exhaustion passed they could go for that walk. And then, after a little while longer maybe Crowley would be feeling up to going for dinner again. And eventually, he’d been feeling well enough to go back to normal, though things wouldn’t really be normal anymore, not now that he knew Aziraphale would be there to help him. He’d spent so long, so so long on his own with only the briefest meetings, the barest of touches, and the hint of friendship. 6000 years with Aziraphale outside his grasp and now he had him, and the angel wanted to help him. It felt like forgiveness, even if he knew he was well beyond that.

“Get some more rest, love. I’ll be here,” Aziraphale assured him, tucking Crowley’s head under his chin. Crowley nodded, his sobs died down to something that was definitely not a sniffle. Aziraphale smelled like warm baked goods and book glue. “Tomorrow I’ll go out and get some fresh pastries unless you’d prefer something else? How does that sound?”

Crowley was already half asleep, his eyelids heavy and drooping. “Mmm. Ssomething warm…” Aziraphale was rocking them slightly, the smooth sway lulling the demon further into that peaceful place.

“Whatever you want, my dear,” Aziraphale answered, slipping his own eyes shut. They definitely needed to have a little chat about all this, when Crowley was feeling more like himself, but Aziraphale could wait. They had all the time in the world.

#fanfic #good omens #azirapahel #aziraphale/crowley #ineffable husbands #crowziraphale #crowley

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