#because i'm too tired to think of something cleverer

[theworldisabrokenbonebutitishome]

There's nothing I wouldn't do cause love is crazy, I'm crazy too...

I Would - Lower Than Atlantis

[xbraveheartx]

New reaction meme-- 3, 2, 1, GO

[whereistheonepiece]

Currently want to write but no I don't

[ilions-end]

i finished statius' ACHILLEID. thoughts thoughts thoughts:

i knew going in it was a VERY short unfinished epic, but i didn't know it would be FUN?? if i ever get that time machine, FIRST THING i go back and find one publius papinius statius, i lock him in a room, and i'm NOT letting him out until he's finished the achilleid!

achilles is statius' BLORBO in a way neither homer, quintus nor virgil have blorbos. statius likes achilles to be strong and pretty and graceful, but most of all ENDEARING even when he fails. and he fails a lot, because this is him still figuring out how to be an adult, not to mention a prophesied legend literally everyone is waiting for to step up

the one thing that gets tiring is just how many prophecies permeate the achilleid. nothing's left to chance, there are so few unknowns. even ODYSSEUS was aware that from peleus' wedding there would come a child destined to be a central warrior in an upcoming gigantic war.

as it stands, the achilleid is more of a... thetisiad? she is very centered in the narrative (we spend more time looking at things from her point of view than achilles') and there is SO MUCH SYMPATHY for her, oh my gosh!! she loves ONE person, her son, the only worthwhile thing she got out of a traumatizing marriage, and she despairs that he's fated to die young in a silly human war.

also i'm a deidamia defender forever now. so three-dimensional, so clever!

aughhh i love how much characterization statius puts in, even in the small scenes! my favourite example is odysseus and diomedes as they walk up to lycomedes' place (literally just moving characters from A to B). diomedes teases odysseus, and odysseus is delighted to be teased. that night we're told odysseus CAN'T SLEEP because he's too excited about showing off his plan the next morning!

the unveiling of achilles is completely different from the chagrined defeat/"achilles is a fucking idiot" ways i've heard it retold! i love that it's collaborative, it's a mutual triumph. it's just as much achilles (who's been suffering in gender dysphoria hell for a year) longing to be exposed as it is odysseus LIVING for showing everyone (especially diomedes?) how clever he is. it's not just the shield and the spear and the bugle, it's odysseus playing the part of the siren, whispering in achilles' ear that he knows who he is and describing how glorious he will be on the trojan battlefield. it's achilles' grateful relief at being ALLOWED not to pretend anymore as he rips off his own dress even before the bugle calls

also it's very important to me that the moment he's no longer hunching over trying to make himself look small and inoffensive, we're told achilles is taller than both odysseus and diomedes

i KEEP IMAGINING how good statius would have made the rest!! especially because as book ii ends, achilles regards odysseus as a cool uncle; he's the guy who rescued him! i want to think statius would have put in the big mystery quarrel achilles and odysseus are said to have had early in the war, something to drastically change that affection. i want to know how statius would have handled troilus, and the gods. augh statius you roman BLUEBALLER

an assortment of story beats still revolving in my head:

chiron is such a sweetheart!! he's SO gallant with thetis, he's so affectionate with achilles. he HIDES HIS TEARS when achilles leaves, awww

statius writes out phoinix completely. as a phoinix stan i object. sure chiron can raise young achilles, but i NEED phoinix to tend to him as a baby

i enjoy how achilles EXPLODES into a mess of teenagerly hormones when he first sees deidaima. it's so funny that thetis is looking on (and we get my favourite simile of the achilleid, of a herdsman delighting in a young bull snorting and foaming at a beautiful heifer) like "aaaaand there's my son's sexual awakening. i see! well, we can use that" and THAT explains why achilles is so willing to commit to the female disguise

(listen. listen. few things mean more to me than the love between achilles and patroclus. but achilles is a teenage boy at the age when a fucking breeze will give him a boner, and deidamia is the most beautiful and the cleverest of her sisters. i really enjoy a story where achilles and deidamia are neither "fated eternal true love" or one's a sneaky opportunist. it's much more compelling that they're both knots of budding emotions and bodily feedback)

i notice that statius never uses the name pyrrha, he doesn't seem to have a fake name at all, just "achilles' sister"

lycomedes is SO honoured and proud that thetis is entrusting her daughter to him. i feel sorry for lycomedes, he seems so earnest and hasn't done anything to get tricked

the one thing i can't forgive statius for is that after spending SO much time establishing that achilles and deidamia (who knows he's a guy) are genuinely into each other, it feels like statius goes OUT OF HIS WAY assuring us that their first sexual encounter is rape. sure they talk right after, deidamia forgives him, AND i understand there are social rules that makes deidamia more "honourable" and "worthy" when she resists, but like. sigh.

aLONG with the previously mentioned interplay between odysseus and diomedes as they walk up to lycomedes' court, there's a simile where they're both starving wolves on the hunt. so sexy it's almost illegal

the feast scene is SO FUNNY omg. all of achilles' careful feminine training dissolving because odysseus and diomedes are there with their boundless masculinity for him to feed off of. deidamia practically WRESTLING achilles back down on the couch every time he forgets himself and behaves too much like a man. odysseus chatting with lycomedes SPECIFICALLY trying to rile up achilles, and then after the women have left (achilles dragging his feet and looking back, YEARNING for their male company) odysseus specifically praises the maiden's "almost masculine" beauty (because ohh he suspects. he just needs to prove it in the morning. he can't SLEEP for it)

when they depart, achilles earnestly swears to deidamia that no other women shall ever bear his children. i find it interesting as a reminder of the social rules of its era. neither of them expect achilles to be sexually exclusive, just not fathering potential heirs. which again makes me wonder about the contraceptives in ancient greece

on the ship towards aulis, diomedes begs achilles to tell them all about his feats and training with chiron, and achilles is so shy about it! who can blame him! diomedes has a WAY more impressive track record

odysseus is SO good at firing up achilles' outrage at paris even as he's just catching him up on what the war's about. and he's so pleased at how easily achilles' outrage can be directed! you KNOW that would have developed in such an interesting way AUGH THE REST WOULD HAVE BEEN SO GOOD.

[l-love-writing]

At the age of 7-8, Atsushi escapes from the orphanage and encounters an armed detective agency. Headcanon

* Now the other characters are the same age. Only Atsushi's age is like 7-8 years old due to headcanon.

*The Armed Detective Agency was facing a new crime. A tiger cub was stealing meat and fruit from stores and causing harm to the store owners.

*Originally, this task was given to someone else, but Kenji was the first to find Atsushi. Kenji found Atsushi hiding in an alley in his tiger form. Of course, Kenji thought Atsushi was a normal tiger.

*He then somehow convinced Atsushi and carried him to the detective agency. Atsushi, on the other hand, only enjoyed the food Kenji gave him. Atsushi, on the other hand, just enjoyed the food Kenji gave him. Of course, when we got to the detective agency, things got a little confusing.

Kenji, "I found a runaway albino tiger!”

Kunikida, "What where?! Why did you bring him here?!"

*There was chaos at first, but it quickly ended. Kenji, Rampo, Naomi, Kyouko and Fukuzawa wanted to adopt Atsushi, thinking he was a tiger cub. Tigers are cats, after all.

*Dazai, Tanizaki, Yosano and Kunikida were determined to give him to a zoo, but they lost in numbers. However, Dazai and Rampo noticed that when the tiger cub heard this, he understood them and reacted in fear.

Dazai, "Oh what a clever little tiger. Come here~"

Fukuzawa, "Dazai, don't give the poor tiger weird looks!”

*When Dazai touched Atsushi's tiger form, Atsushi's true form appeared. They notice how weak Atsushi is. Of course, at first everyone was surprised except Rampo and Dazai.

*They realized from Atsushi's clothes that he was an orphan. They planned to give him to the orphanage, but Atsushi got scared and cried. It quickly became clear that this was a bad idea, as it took hours to calm Atsushi down.

*They later learned the reason why Atsushi ran away from the orphanage and decided to take care of Atsushi.

*Atsushi is a calm kid so he doesn't cause too many problems.

*Some armed detective agency members may ask Atsushi to turn into a tiger.

*Dazai will definitely test how cat-like Atsushi's tiger form is by shining a laser at it.

(Dazai points laser at Atsushi) Dazai, "Come on, kitty kitty."

Atsushi, "I will report you to Kunikida and Fukuzawa."

*When Atsushi gets tired of Dazai's teasing, he goes to the other members and complains about Dazai. Atsushi suffers a lot because of Dazai.

*He will get candy from Rampo and Yosano and Fukuzawa will scold him because his teeth are rotting.

*After a while, the detective agency starts giving simple tasks to Atsushi because Atsushi insists on it.

*Atsushi is definitely getting pampered every day because he is such a cute kid.

*The big problem is that there are people chasing Atsushi. Some enemies who learn about Atsushi's ability will go after Atsushi. Of course they will take care of it, but Atsushi will definitely get caught in the crossfire.

*However, there will be no problem as the members of the Armed Detective Agency will deal with it as quickly as possible.

(⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

I'm bored. Please give me something to write about, I'm really bored. Sorry, my English is not very good. Anyway, seriously, give me a few ideas and if I like them, I'll write them.

[dira333]

The sky is everywhere - Hawks x reader

A/N: requested by @misfit-megumi - Prompts are: "the sky is everywhere" and "I'm tired of love songs"

Warning: heavy angst to somewhat fluff. I just let my brain take the wheel

“I′m so tired of love songs, tired of love songs, tired of love songs, tired of love…” You’re swaying a little as you sing, almost miss your mouth when you bring the bottle of wine back up to your lips. 

To call the last few months “rough” would have been an understatement. 

Something in you is begging you to go home, but that place doesn’t exist anymore.

Your formerly shared apartment feels more like a trap now. You don’t want to be in there, yet you just can’t move out. 

“Hey,” your friend’s grip is soft, cautious. Like you’re one of those hurt animals that might lash out. She thought it would be a good idea to party, try and meet somebody new. But two months is not nearly enough time to forget about someone you loved so deeply.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“I’m fine,” you argue, but you both know that’s a lie. You haven’t been fine in weeks. Not since…

“Can we do some shots?” You ask, dreading the moment you have to leave this place and face reality yet again. If you get hammered enough… maybe it will buy you some time.

They say Grief comes in stages. If that’s true, you’re still stuck in denial.

-

There is no place on earth where you’re free of the memories.

Even when all the blinds are closed and you’re lying in the dark, you can clearly see the twinkle in Keigo’s eyes. Hear him whistling low at your sight. Feel the caress of a single feather.

He left a few months ago. 

It wasn’t the first time he had to leave for an undercover mission. Not the first time he didn’t give you any information. 

“You’re too clever for your own good,” he said often, kissing your temple when you connected the dots yourself, came up to him with what you thought he was going to get into. You had been right every time.

So you knew to be scared when he packed his things this time.

Because he was going to infiltrate the League of Villains. 

“You should stop doing that,” he said, but there was no twinkle in his eye when he said it. He sounded tired, resigned to his fate. It should have been a warning.

You should have locked yourself in the spare bedroom, put your hands over your ears, and pretended you didn’t hear him.

But you didn’t. And he broke up with you.

Two days later he went officially missing. Some think he’s dead.

You don’t know what would hurt less.

-

The light is hurting your eyes. 

You close them and sink back into the pillows, no more willing to face the day than you have been yesterday.

The air is heavy with the smell of sweat and alcohol. If only you could fall back asleep but now that you’re awake, all the noises seem to increase by a tenfold. The clock is ticking so loud it feels like your head is vibrating. Someone in the apartment above you is showering and the water trickling down sounds like rainfall. Then there’s the smacking sound of your fridge door being closed-

Your eyes fly open but you blink against the pain as you try and regain your memories.

Did you bring someone home last night?

You wouldn’t, right?!

But there’s someone in your apartment, footsteps coming closer and closer.

You grab your pillow and push yourself up, the room spinning. The blinds are only partially open, leaving the doorway in the shadow. But what you can see is black and glistening, like leather-

Your scream cuts through the silence like the pillow soaring through the air. 

Your invader catches it with ease. When he lowers it and steps into the room, your breath catches in your throat.

You know those eyes.

“Keigo?” You ask, your voice scratchy. He’s wearing a black mask that covers almost all of his face. Bandages cover the rest of his head, but some of his hair is still peaking through, confirming your guess.

He nods slowly and drops the pillow to the floor. In his right hand is a bottle of water.

You want to ask, yell, beg him to stay… but all you can do is lean forward and empty your stomach.

-

It’s unnatural for Keigo to be this quiet.

It’s unnatural for you to be the same.

But if this is a fever dream, you don’t want to end it with your words.

Wordlessly he cleans the floor. Wordlessly he urges you to drink water and take the painkiller he found in the kitchen cabinet. 

Wordlessly he slips into bed with you and holds you, and you pretend that everything is okay.

It hurts even more when you wake up a second time and he’s gone yet again.

-

When he returns, almost a week later, after a press conference that shook the world, he’s no longer wearing the mask. His face is scared and the room painfully empty of his wings, his presence. He seems to have shrunken in on himself.

“You’re too clever for your own good,” he tells you, feet planted on your doorstep. You step aside to let him in, hoping that he will. He does. 

Neither of you talks about the topic at hand. To someone who doesn’t know your history, it might look like nothing ever happened. You cook dinner together, your hand raised to stop him from stealing the noodles out of the pot, plucking the chicken out of the pan before you can serve the food. You sink into him whenever he’s close, but neither of you addresses the question that needs to be asked.

At least until the dishes are done and the kitchen is clean and your body heavily sinks into the mattress, your heart longing for him to stay near.

“Would you take me back?” He whispers, quiet enough that you might have missed it, had you not been waiting for it.

“Would you?”

He shakes his head. You can feel the motion where his chin dishevels your hair. 

But isn’t that why the two of you have always been so great together? Because you do what he wouldn’t and he does what you never will?

Your hands find his arms, take hold of him in the only way you can. 

“If you ever break up with me again, I will make you regret it,” you say, though it’s an empty threat. He chuckles, but it doesn’t sound amused.

“You already did.”

-

You’ve always been too clever for your own good.

Does it soothe the hurt to know he only broke up with you to keep you safe? No.

But it makes it easier to take him back.

One day, hopefully, he will realize that you’re safest when you’re with him.

But until then, you will try your best to hold him close.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[pearl-tarotist]

🌸 Messages from your future spouse 🌸

{I have not touched my tarot cards in weeks but lately I have had an urge to make this Pac}. Your future spouse wants to communicate with you about something.

PILE 1

Honey,

I have finally done it...I have surpassed the obstacles and I have reached my goals, but I find myself with palms full of time. The hours that I used to work on them have fallen over me like a weight. What must I do now?

I am content and happy due to my victory but also tired, so I need to rest and recover some energy...but between rests and naps, I can just think of you, my dear future spouse. I can just think about having someone that I can hold in my hands... instead of this void and meaningless empty hand. Something is awaking on me, the need to have someone that I could take care of, someone that I could spend my time with. I have suddenly been dreaming about you...not you as someone with bones and skin but fantasizing about your laugh and your warmness and the softness of your skin when sleeping in the same bed. At my side. I want that close intimacy that one can just get when falling in love.

I have changed because now I want you ...does it sound bad? The idea that I did not want you before? I'm sorry, I don't think I was even aware of this void inside of me while working. I don't know... I just want to hold you and not let you go. I want to kiss your hand and hold your face against my chest... can you listen to my heartbeat?

I am just so ready for this new adventure...not even and adventure if I am being honest. I am just ready for you...and eager too. From one day to other all my focus has changed to your needs. I am ready not just for a relationship but for a life companion...I am ready to bathe you in tenderness and love.

God, I want to fall in love with you so much. Please, come soon. I am waiting for you. Excuse my eagerness and my selfishness but, have you been feeling our connection lately or have you been thinking about me too? Do not say you have not or you will break my heart.

Eagerly waiting for you,

Comments: this man/woman woke up once with an extreme need on their chest. They are full of love and they are waiting for you. I guess this is what they wanted to tell you, that they are ready to commit and take care of you. Some of them want to call you baby, honey, darling, mi amor, amore mio...all type of petnames, but overall they want to pronounce your name so badly but they are unaware of it. They miss you already 😭. I could have keep writing about their feeling for the next 3 days because their feeling are intense but I cannot do that or...should I?

Temperance/ 9 of wands/ 7 of Cups / Wheel of fortune/ 4-3 of wands

PILE 2

I'm confident in us. I have enough trust in the world to know that I will find you, that they will put someone as perfect as you for me. I believe that the world will help us and will put us in the same path and even if they do not...I will search for you. For someone as graceful, nurturing and beautiful as you are.

Lately, things have been going well, I have found some sense of peace and harmony inside of me...I am ready for new adventures, for new people and a new love, that's you bb, ;). I am in an ambitious mode, it feels as if I had the energy to fight against dragons and monsters just to get to you, my princess and my queen. (your fs could call you a princess but see you as a queen).

I do not want to lie, you could think I am a bit of a playboy first as my jokes and flirting could be unoriginal or predictable but I just want you so much that I become of one of those stereotyped knights, just to get to you. What can I do to earn your interest? In those movies the knights were doing incredible conquests, saving kingdoms, being so flirty and sarcastic that the queen can just laugh about it... I want us to became those fantastic and romantic stories, wouldn't you like it?

I mean...you are just like a queen. You are nurturing, clever, beautiful, intuitive...It feels as if you could see everything about me at just one glance with those beautiful eyes of yours and I feel so...naked and seen. Sometimes, I think I'm just not enough so I just want to keep entertaining you with these quests even when it looks dumb from outside. Is it bad that I want you to just keep your attention on me?

I'm persistent, sarcastic and not scared to speak my mind...what a bad combination. I am just lucky and in love with you so much to hope that it is enough.

Always yours to serve you,

The Star/ Knight of Wands/ Queen of cups/pentacles /Knight of Cups/ Strength

PILE 3

From outside it seems that I have everything, as if my life was perfect...I am self-sufficient, I have people to dine with, people to dance with, friends that I can call and family that I spend time with but...I'm not that confident.

Inside of me, I have this recurrent doubt and insecurity....I am still young, I am still learning...I don't want to keep myself into the jail of the known. It seems foolish to some to change my lifestyle and comfortable routine when for some it is to everything they aspire to in life, but is it really that good?

I don't know if the people I involve myself with are the best. Are they trustworthy? Generous? Good people? I don't know.

That's why I think about you, my little ghost, you are present with me when I think about the future. I know we will be good to each other, we both will be young, we will learn about everything with time, patience and love. I have no doubts that we will grow wealthy, healthy and clever.

I think I am allowed to dream when I feel so much for us. Isn't it good that we will grow together and stablish our own bases? We won't copy others, we will be irreversibly us. And that's why I appreciate you so much.

I love you, take care.

10 of Wands/ 9 of Swords/The Moon/ page and knight of pentacles

This reading belongs to @pearl-tarotist.

[arwenadreamer]

Jared is the most loving, caring person!

I've read it a thousand times online, but experiencing it in person puts it on anoher level!

Jared's schedule on Purcon 8 was merciless! (In fact, the whole schedule of Purcon was the one thing I have to criticise regarding this convention. Maybe I'll make another post about this.) For example on Sunday Jared had 15 Minutes of double photo (with Mark), then the J2 panel (30 Minutes) then M&G (30 Minutes) then photos 2,5 hours of photos (which run late, so it was close to three hours in the end), then a single panel (30 Minutes) without a single break. (There would have been a 20 minute break after the 2,5 hours of photos, but again, they were late.) Then he had half an hour break, before autos were from 16.25 to 18.25!

I don't know about US conventions, but at JiB there are more little breaks, and the photos, autos, etc. are in smaller patches. Like, 1 hour photos in the morning, then an hour of autos, then a panel, then photos again.

I don't think I could stand in a photo room and smile for 3 hours straight and give every fan the time of the day and a beautiful photo!

But Jared did! (And so did Jensen, btw.! Neither of them ever showing how tired they were. Or at least trying to hide it the best they could.)

So, @takikojou and I took our Jared photos on sunday. We were in line last, since we had the cheapest entrance tickets, which means Jared had taken pictures for nearly 2,5 hours. When we were in the photo room, we could clearly see how exhausted he was. Between pictures, his eyes drooped. Yet, he gave EVERY. SINGLE. FAN. his full attention. He made those 10 seconds special for everyone of nearly 2000 fans! One girl wanted to do a handholding pose with him and he squatted down (as he always does), but she asked him to stand tall please, which he did. And the whole room laughed. (This kind of good natured laugh.) So did Jared. He picked up the energy and still had fun. Then a man came and asked him to do the WOW fingers. Jared clearly loved that, they made a bit of fun about it. Jared clapped the fan on the back in parting and said "Loved that pose!". @takikojou had an amazing op, but that's her story to tell.

Then it was my turn. I wanted to do a drinking pose. He listened attentively (For some reason we were not allowed to show pictures on the phone of what we wanted, because they said it would take more time? I think it takes more time to explain, but oh well.) Then he did the pose and looked me dead in the eye. For my second photo I asked him to choose the pose. He said "I'll stand behind you", then turned me around and held me withe both arms around my shoulders. And then he pressed with so much strengh, held me sooooooooo tight! I grin like a lunatic on the pic, but who can blame me? I then turned halfway around to say "Thank you", before walking away, and he stroked my arm and said "Thank you, darling!"

The pictures turned out wonderful. And all of that after 2,5 hours of nonstop pictures! Not a single photo he took shows how tired he was!

He came on stage right after photos for his panel and was like "I'm gonna sit, I need that now", falling into the chair right away. Yet, he continued to give us an awesome panel. Seriously, my brain would have been mush by now, yet he gave clever, insightful answers as always and put his full energy into that panel.

We don't deserve that man!

All that goes for Jensen too, btw! But he had a much better schedule with little breaks and rather an hour photos, then something else, then photos again. Which is why I was especially blown away by Jaredˋs dedication. But that doesn't change the fact, that Jensen, too, gives every fan his full attention and makes the most of those 10 seconds and of the panels and everything. They are both amazing like that!

[bamboozledbird]

𝕚𝕗 𝕚 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 pt.2 // stiles stilinski imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin Pairing(s): Stiles x you, Theo x you (no use of y/n) Word Count: 5.3k Tags: a fix-it for y'all bc i'm a pushover Warnings: Underage drinking (at least in america rip, they're all 19+), creepy guys in bars, emetophobia, new jersey slander (please forgive me jerseyans)

Request: for all you people i made cry with part 1. this is my love letter to you. A/N: you don't necessarily need to read part 1 to understand, but this is a follow-up to if i could lose you i would.

The night starts well enough. Theo’s hand is a warm, steadying weight against your lower back, and his cologne cuts through the vague funky smell clouding the bar. Lydia chose it; somehow, no matter the city, she always knows about the coolest, underground spots that seem to only circulate within an elite circle of twentysomethings. It really isn’t all that shocking when you think about it as you nurse your bitter cocktail; every single person who catches a glimpse of Lydia immediately craves her attention. Unfortunately for them, Lydia always takes you as her date, though lately she’s been ending your nights out at a stranger's apartment more often than not. She’s never said it, but you know it’s because, ever since the disastrous end to her start-of-summer bash, Theo's made himself a permanent third-wheel on girls’ night. He’s never said it, but you know he started tagging along because you’ve been distant since Stiles poured into your bedroom and pressed on all the bruises his fingertips left behind when he left you. You really thought you’d washed them all away with 3,000 miles, 3 months, and 3 weeks of the scrape of Theo’s teeth. 

You sip on your fourth drink of the evening, sitting on a barstool because your legs are too wobbly to stand on, and Theo watches you watch Lydia spin a girl with a radiant smile and glitter tinsel in her hair. 

“You wanna dance?” he hums in your ear. You can barely hear him over the bass and the buzz of too much tequila. 

You nibble on your straw and hiccup around it, “Don’t think I can.”

Theo makes a move to grab the drink in your hand, and you bend backwards to keep it out of his reach. “Come on,” he frowns, “you can’t even stand.”

“So?” you purse your lips petulantly and punctuate your point with a loud suck, draining the last few drops of your lime margarita through a few chunks of leftover ice.

Theo looks tired as he studies your face. “What the hell is going on with you? I see you every day, and I still don’t have a fucking clue.” 

You’re too drunk to pretend you don’t know what he’s talking about. Hiccupping again, your nose scrunches, “I’m just…I wanna go home.” Theo pats his jacket pockets for his keys, and you shake your head a few too many times. “No, not there.” Your stomach turns when you finally realize what you actually mean. You want to hitch a ride on the melting ice in your glass and dissolve into knotted hair on Sunday mornings, freckled skin washed with the shifting sun, and pouted pink lips, cursing the snooze button and your cold toes. You don’t say that. You’re drunk, not cruel. “I wanna go back to Stanford. I hate it here.”

Theo’s eyes are shadowed in the dim light of the club, but they’re calculating. “You really think that’s far enough?” 

Blinking slowly, your mind spins with the drinks in your stomach as you try and fail to think of something clever. “Feels far,” you mumble, and Theo doesn’t look reassured. It’s hard for you to differentiate pain from anger through watery eyes and the brume of tequila, but whatever emotion is darkening Theo’s expression, you think it’s justified. He’s smart enough to know what you mean. 

 His face goes blank as he searches for his keys again, “I think that’s enough fun for tonight.”

You shake your head and wriggle down further into the cradle of your hips, “I wanna stay.”

Theo exhales through his nose and runs a hand over his face, “I thought you wanted to go home.”

Your tongue is thick as you struggle for words, sniffling as they tease you from the fraying edges of consciousness. “Not there.” You know you sound like a baby, recycling the handful of words you can remember, and you know that tears will only make it worse, but they still bubble along your lash line.

“Stay at Lydia’s then,” Theo spits out through gritted teeth, but he shoves a napkin towards you to mop up your running mascara, so you forgive him. It’s your fault, after all. At least, you think so as you watch him leave. 

“Boyfriend troubles?” Your head lulls to the side as you blink dumbly, all big-eyed and glassy, at the stranger leaning against the bar beside you. He’s tall, well-built too, but you’re mostly focused on his pungent cologne. It’s hard not to; you’re suffocating in it. 

The man laughs and grabs your chin, shaking your head a little, “You’re adorable. How could anyone stay mad at you?” 

You recoil, wrenching your face from his sweaty grasp, and run your tongue over your teeth. “He’s not…” your protest gets lost in your throat when he steps into your space and slides his hand along your spine, just shy of your ass. Your dress is backless, completely exposed to his wandering gaze, and your skin crawls with the sensation of his fingertips grazing your back.

His breath is hot and wet on the shell of your ear, “You want to forget about it for a while, angel?” 

“No,” your head jerks from side to side, eyes screwed shut, “I don’t—I think I’m gonna puke.”

A wave of relief rolls over you when a red-taloned hand slithers between your bodies. Lydia shoves the stranger’s chest sharply, sending him stumbling into the stool behind him, and his hand falls from your hip. 

“Does it look like she wants to contract something from a limp-dicked lowlife in tacky shoes?” The top of Lydia’s head barely reaches his shoulder, but her eyes are sharp and her sneer is venomous. The creep has the good sense to look a little afraid. “You have exactly two seconds to get the hell out of here before I personally ensure you’re on every public sex offender registry from here to Quebec.”

She grabs your hand before he has the chance to disagree and pulls you into the bathroom. In comparison to the loud, muggy dancefloor, it’s a wonderful reprieve: an oasis of cold air and muffled bass. 

Lydia fusses over you for a minute; you wave off her concerns and push yourself onto the sink even though your arms feel distinctly gelatinous. You can tell she doesn’t believe you, but men preying on drunk women is a tragically large and present underbelly of girl world, so after a moment she turns her intense focus to the lighted mirror. She looks perfect—she always looks perfect—but she won’t believe anyone except her own reflection.

The aching strain in your arches slowly dissipates to a faint tingle the longer your feet dangle from the counter, your heels discarded below. They’re black strappy things from the back of Lydia’s closet, and so is the scrap of black silk that Prada has the audacity to call a dress. You are grateful, however, for the short hem and open back now that your skin finally has the chance to breathe. 

You watch Lydia apply her lipstick with a precision brain surgeons could only dream of, smiling lazily. She’s graceful with the slender brush, like Botticelli stroking a swathe of red silk over a canvas of smooth skin. You envy her, with your eyeshadow already melting below your waterline, but mostly you love her. So proud to have such a goddess for a best friend. 

Her head tilts as she smiles at you, and she must be at least a little godly because she doesn’t smear her lipstick when her mouth curves. “What?” she hums around her puckered lips. 

“Nothing,” your words slur together, “you’re just perfect.”

She tucks her lipstick into her clutch and shakes her head, “And you’re so drunk. Lethal, babe.”

“I love it,” you sigh as she starts fixing your hair, clicking her tongue when you start to fidget. You slump into her careful touch and watch her fingers smooth through a few knots near your ends. “Being drunk is my favorite.”

She twirls her finger, indicating you should turn around, and begins twisting your flattened curls into an elegant bun. “I’ve noticed,” she mutters through the bobby pin clutched between her teeth, “you’ve been drinking more than you’ve sober lately.”

“It’s summer!” You blow a curl off of your nose and close your teary eyes so that your mascara doesn’t flake onto your cheeks, “You’re supposed to be drunk.”

Lydia hums and pulls a few strands of hair loose to artfully frame your face. “I didn’t realize alcoholism was seasonal.”

“You,” you bop her nose and giggle when it scrunches under your finger, “are being a major buzzkill. Don’t kill my buzz; that’s murder in the first.”

“Someone has to be.” Lydia leans her hip against the sink, and her brows curve, “Where’s Theo? I thought he was your DD tonight?”

You let the intoxication sweep over your senses because it’s easy and knock your ankles together like a child on the swings. “He left,” you chirp.

“He what?”

Your bottom lip juts out a little, “I think I hurt his feelings.”

Lydia is incensed. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and mutters a few choice words under her breath, “I’m going to hurt a lot more than that when I find him.” You curl in on yourself a little, and she sighs, unwinding her fingers from tight fists as her eyes soften. “He really left you here?” she asks quietly.

You shrug, refusing to feel sorry for yourself, and make grabby hands at her sleeves, “It’s okay. You’re here, and you’re my best friend, and I love you.”

She laces your fingers together and squeezes your hand, “It is not okay. That creep had you halfway to his car.”

You shudder at memory, and feel the ghost of the stranger’s clammy hand against your lower back, “But you rescued me. So it’s okay.” 

You frown at Lydia’s frown and push her cheeks together, squishing her mouth into a crinkled half-smile. She rolls her eyes a little and takes your wrists in her hands gently, “He shouldn’t have left you. It was a shitty thing to do, babe.”

“I made him sad, I think.” You hiccup a little, “I think I always do.”

“He can’t leave you blackout drunk in a skeezy bar just because you’re in love with someone else,” she huffs.

You tease the tip of your tongue through your front teeth, swinging your legs back and forth below the sink, “It wasn’t skeezy when you picked it.”

Lydia huffs again and folds her arms over her chest, “That was before I saw tall, dark, and creepy try to take you home.”

Your playful grin crumbles as your drunk-numb mind finally catches up with the burning behind your ribs. “I’m in love with someone else,” you say, voice sticky and thick in your throat. 

She lets out a sigh so soft you wonder if you just imagined it and takes both of your hands, “I know.”

Whimpering quietly, you turn your nose into your shoulder, slightly embarrassed by the sound. “I’m sad about it.”

“I know,” Lydia combs a few strands of your hair off of your tear-tacky face and smiles a little, “let’s get you home, okay?”

Another round of nausea hits you as you finally realize that you’re truly, really, horrifically drunk, and you still can’t forget him. 

“I don’t think I know where that is anymore.” 

Lydia was able to corral you into an Uber after you puked a few times. She held your hair back and helped you brush your teeth. You cried a little when she wiped the sweat off of your face with a makeup wipe, watching her take care of you with big wet eyes, as she tucked you into bed like the baby tequila and heartbreak had turned you into. She made you promise to call her in the morning, and then she left you to sleep off the ache in your throat and the six margaritas in your bloodstream—or was it seven, you can’t remember. 

You can’t remember much, it seems. You scroll through your feed for a while and squint at the blurry splotches of color, trying to recall if you were good enough friends with the girl from software systems to leave a comment on her post about how hot she looks in red. Your fingers drift, swiping away from Instagram to the only thing you remember. The thing you’ll always remember.

The phone rings exactly two times.

“Hi.” It’s the only thing you can think of besides, ‘I love you. I love you. I love you. Please make it stop.’

“Hey.” You listen to Stiles breathe on the other side of the line and snuggle further into your pillow. “You there?” 

His voice is soft in your ear, and your eyes go lidded, “Uh huh.”

He clears his throat, “What are you doing up this late?”

You twist around your sheets, and the tip of your tongue pokes out at your phone. Apparently, you’ve also forgotten that he can’t see you. “What are you doing up this late?”

“It’s uh,” Stiles pauses and there’s a rustling sound on his side of the line, “almost 8 here.”

You blink and frown at the time on your screen, “Nuh uh.” 

There’s a pause; you hate it. You want him to keep talking until you fall asleep. He finally sighs, “Are you drunk?”

Your tongue pokes out again, “I’m not the one who can’t tell time.”

“Baby,” your heart skips and your breath hitches, and he must be tired because he doesn’t seem to notice the slip, “we’re in different time zones.”

Your heart stumbles over the skip this time, and it feels a lot like flatlining. “You went back already?”

“I, uh,” he shifts, must be in his desk chair because you can hear something rolling, “my lease started. Figured if I’m paying to live in Philly, I should actually, y’know, live in Philly.” 

“Oh.” One little syllable, and it’s heavy with so many things you can’t bring yourself to dwell on it. 

“Yeah.” 

“So, uh,” you hear him scratch at something, most likely the back of his neck because he sounds anxious, “why’d you call?” He’s quick to correct himself, words overlapping like ripples in a creek, “Not that I’m not glad you called; I’m stoked you called—or maybe something a little less embarrassing—but I, uh,” there’s that scratching sound again and a quiet thudding of drumming fingers, “I really didn’t think you would.”

“Dunno,” there’s a smile in your voice, but you aren’t sure if he can hear it through the wobble, “just started dialin’, n’ I ended up here.”

He stands, and the phone shifts against his cheek as he starts to pace, “Where are you?” He sounds worried. You frown—you don’t want him to worry. You want him to hold you.

“Home,” you pause, nose wrinkling because that’s not quite right, and then add, “my house.”

“Did you drink anything?”

“Clearly.”

You can hear the eye roll from the other side of the country when he huffs into the phone, “I meant water. Did you drink any water?”

“Uh,” you nibble on your lip, “yes?”

He huffs again, but this time you can tell he’s smiling, “Get up and get some water—Advil too. Put it on top of whatever book you’re reading so it doesn’t get lost in your pile of shitty chapsticks and hair thingies.” 

Your eyes cross, affronted, “They are not shitty.”

“They’re an endless cycle of chapped hell.”

“But they taste good,” you grumble, cuddling your pillow to your chest.

He’s smirking; you know it. “Oh, I know.” 

You both just breathe through the line for a long moment, remembering the same slick slide of lips and tongues. 

“I miss you,” you whisper. 

Stiles inhales sharply, “I miss you too.”

“No,” you shake your head, smearing mascara on your pillowcase, “I miss you.” Your mouth is dry, and you can’t find the right words to explain it, how he’s apart from you even when he’s standing right there. There just aren’t enough words in the English language to explain the ache in the marrow of your ribs, how he still lingers inside your skin like some kind of fucked-up, agonizing osmosis, how you love him so tortuously, so effortlessly. Indefinitely. 

You can’t explain, but when he whispers, “Yeah, me too,” you know he knows. 

You sniffle and hiccup a few times, and a sigh crackles through your speaker. “Drink some water for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. You roll onto your stomach and sit up a little on your elbows, “Will you stay?”

“Yeah, baby,” his chair squeaks as he sits back down, “‘till you fall asleep.”

“Promise?” Your voice is thick, like you’ve been crying for hours, and Stiles’s voice is tight when he finally replies. 

“Promise.”

You wake up with dry eyes and a rank taste in your mouth. There’s a glass of water and a handful of Advil on your nightstand, and you just know. You’ve known for a while actually, maybe forever, but you can’t pretend you don’t anymore. 

Theo seems to know why you invited him over so early on a Sunday morning. He doesn’t even look sad when you officially end it, and you wonder if it’s because he knew it was over a long time ago. You wish, selfishly, that he would’ve let you in on the secret so that you could’ve avoided all this. You hug him before he leaves, and it’s stiff and awkward, and you feel a little shitty about the whole thing—but it doesn’t feel wrong. 

You feel like yourself for the first time in a long time, and that feels good.

Summer is almost over, and you don’t have the time to obsess over all your wanting. All the air leaves your body sometimes, no room for anything but honey, veins, and new stubble, but you have so much to do. There’s no time for drowning when you’ve only got a few weeks before the semester starts. 

You don’t even have the time to acknowledge the nerves wriggling up your esophagus until you’re standing in front of a black door. Your screen is lit with the address Scott texted you, along with roughly 100 exclamation points and a dozen or so brain explosion, party popper, and happy face emojis. They steady you as you knock on the splintering door. The unit is cute and quaint, and you distract yourself by getting a better look at the sage green columns. 

Stiles opens the door, looking disarmingly soft in his worn sweatpants and stretched-out t-shirt—like cuddling on the weekend, like playing video games until sunrise, like home. 

He blinks at you slowly, pretty pink mouth slightly ajar, and you shift on the soles of your sneakers, jamming your hands into your hoodie pockets. “Hey.”

He blinks some more and seems to be only capable of repeating what he hears, “Hey.”

“So,” you dig the toe of your shoe into the porch, staring at a warped patch, curved from seasons of melting snow, and shrug, “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d drop by.”

He recovers from his stupor and leans against the doorframe, hands tucked under his armpits. “You were in the neighborhood,” his head tilts with his arched brow, “in Philadelphia.”

“Well,” you try not not to smile, “it was on my way.”

Nodding, Stiles rubs his chin and purses his lips. You want to kiss the smirk off of his stupid face. “Right, the classic eastbound Stanford route.”

“Not quite.” You adjust the strap of your duffle bag on your shoulder, easing some of the ache pinching at the base of your skull, “New transfer orientation is on Monday. Turns out Princeton’s comp sci department is decent.”

His face becomes guarded, but there’s a little something like hope behind the uncertainty, “4th in the country.”

Something warm inside your stomach flutters. He knows. Of course, he knows. He probably researched it all the way back in high school. You brush your hair out of your eyes and hum, “Mhm.”

Stiles slides his socked foot back and forth, slipping on the polished floor of his cozy entryway, barely catching himself on the doorknob. You laugh until he says, “Stanford’s 2nd.”

Your shoulder lifts, stiff and sharp, “That's correct.”

His chin dips as he searches your face for something. You smile at him, and he swallows; it looks painful. “You turned down MIT because it was too far from home.”

“That's also correct,” you say quietly with a jerky nod. 

His eyes go wide as he shakes his head, almost violently, and he almost slips again with the dramatic effort, “MIT’s 1st in comp-sci.” 

You steady him with a palm against his chest, swiping your thumb over his ribs. His heart thrashes under your touch, and your face lifts with a timid, tender smile. “Sure, but Princeton’s ranked #1 nationally. Overall champs, baby. Suck it.”

Stiles finally smiles, but it’s hesitant. “You don’t say.”

You let a breathy exhale and drop your hands to your sides, curling and uncurling your fingers into tight fists. He’s still looking at you, a cute little wrinkle in-between his brows, waiting for something more. Fair enough. He kind of laid it all out on the line the last time you spoke—he kind of deserves to stew a little after everything, but you’ve forgiven him, decided you want to be happy more than you want to punish him.

You roll your shoulders back and tilt your chin to meet his gaze. “I don’t believe in soulmates.”

Stiles’s face goes sour, and he crosses his arms firmly over his chest, mouth twitching between a pout and a frown. “You stopped in Philly just to tell me tha—”

You rock onto your tiptoes to press a finger to his lips, biting back a smile when they pucker like a fish, and say, “Will you kindly shut it for a minute? I need to get through this. I practiced a lot on the plane.” His eyes narrow, sullen and irritated, but he keeps his lips pressed together, waiting impatiently for you to finish. You slip your finger from his mouth to cup his jaw, thumbing just below his cheekbone, and his body goes lax, irritation slowly seeping from his lanky limbs to the floor.

Grinning, you poke the tip of your tongue at him, and he swallows hard as he tracks the movement. “As I was saying,” you smile through the snark and slide your hands to his chest, resting against the vibration of his thudding heart, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I don’t think there’s just one person out there for everyone—but that’s a good thing, right? I mean, the entire concept of a soulmate is basically just a blackhole. You’re falling, and falling, and falling—and there’s no end; you’re just trapped. There's no choice. I don’t want to love like that—I don’t want to love you like that.” 

It’s cute, the way his face screws up around a theory. It’s a familiar expression, and you can’t help but melt at the knees while you watch his eyes flick back and forth, adding up all your expressions and trying to calculate the meaning. The corner of your mouth pulls into a slip of a smile, “If I turned around right now and never saw you again, I’d be okay. I mean, I wouldn’t drop dead or anything.” 

He sucks in sharply, head jerking back, “What the fu—”

“Hush, I’m almost done.” You keep going before he can interrupt you again, rushing through the rest of your speech, running out of air and restraint, “I think that I could get over you, eventually, years and years from now—but the point is—what I realized is: I don’t want to. I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want to find someone else. Stiles, I love you—I’m in love with you, and I really think tha—”

His lips are wet and warm against yours, and you whine softly into his mouth at the familiarity. He hooks his thumbs in the belt loops on your jeans and yanks you closer, until your chests are pressed together and you can feel him breathe. You were right—the beard burn is delectable.

The kiss slows into something less desperate, something more like forever, and Stiles brushes his lips over yours in a few chaste pecks. When your lashes finally flutter open, you see that he’s grinning at you. It’s so wide, so happy, and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he says, “Sorry, you just would not shut up, so I figured it was either kiss you or shove something in your big mouth—and I’m not super confident in my CPR retention. Scott and I really spent most of the time figuring out how many pencils we could fit into the dummy’s mouth.”

“I take it back.” You push his face away from you, but a laugh bubbles past your swollen lips when Stiles pinches your waist. “I hate you.”

“Nope. No refunds.” Stiles shakes his head solemnly and wraps his hand around your hip, squeezing possessively, “You kiss it, you buy it. That’s what Coach said about the dummy.” 

“Well,” your arms find their way around his neck, and your fingers wind into the soft hair curling behind his ears, “you are a dummy.”

“The dumbest,” he agrees. He’s smiling, but his eyes are sincere, cloudy with guilt. “Baby, I never should’ve—”

You take great satisfaction in your turn shutting him up with a kiss, tugging on his hair until you’re on your tiptoes and he’s groaning into your mouth. “I think we’ve been miserable for a long time,” you whisper, breath ghosting across his shiny lips. He shivers, and you press your temple against his forehead, “I think I’ve had enough of it. How ‘bout you?” 

Stiles nods quickly and dips in to kiss you again. “Can I say sorry one more time?” he mumbles, kissing the ridge of your ear.

“I suppose,” you sigh and fall back onto your heels. 

He takes your bag from your shoulder and guides you into his apartment, kicking the door shut so that he doesn’t have to let go of your hand. There’s a thud as he drops the duffle bag onto the floor, and you barely have the time to take-in the ratty little sofa and coffee table piled with empty pizza boxes before he’s on you again. “I’m,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, and it twitches with the contact, “so,” his lips trail to your cheek, “very,” he presses a kiss to your temple, “truly,” to your hairline, “forever-ly,” to the tip of your nose, “sorry,” to your mouth. 

You sigh as he settles in for a real kiss and fall back onto the couch with him on top of you, disrupting his rhythm with a breathy giggle. He braces his weight onto his arms, and you wriggle down until your face is directly below his. “Hi,” you trace his bottom lip with your finger, smiling when he purses his lips to kiss it. 

“Hey.” He looks drunk: cheeks flushed, eyes hazy with pleasure, body loose and free from critical thinking—and you think to yourself that you’d do just about anything to make sure he’s this happy for the rest of his life. 

Stiles rolls, bringing you into his side with an arm around your waist, and presses against your lower back until you're crushed against him. Still, you squirm closer. Neither of you say anything for a long time, content with the sound of each other’s breathing, and then Stiles hums in his throat a little and plays with the ends of your hair, “So. You’re gonna live in New Jersey.”

“Yup,” your mouth pops with the ‘p.’

He grins, “Wow. You must, like, really love me or something.”

“Or something,” you tease, and he bites your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Jersey isn’t so bad,” his voice is muffled against his teeth, still embedded in your sweatshirt. Well, his technically.

You laugh, “It’s not?”

“Nah,” Stiles pulls back to look at you and scratches at the back of his neck, lifting a shoulder, “wouldn’t mind living there for the…beaches.”

“The Shore, you mean?” you grin, trying to imagine Stiles with a bad spray tan and slicked back hair. 

He grins right back and strokes your cheek, “Yeah, I’d move there for the Shore. I’ve actually been searching for just the right opportunity to show off my scrawny arms and pasty complexion. It’s like, what, a 40 minute drive to Penn?”

“Trenton would be around that, but I was thinking Pennypack would only be 30 from Princeton.” Stiles looks at you through lidded eyes, suspicious. You grin, “For the cheesesteaks, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he quips, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it. His face turns serious as he whispers, “You don’t have to do this,” into the quiet air humming between you. “I would’ve transferred to a school in California if I knew you still wanted me.” A flash of something ignites behind his eyes, warming the amber to whiskey, and he sits up a little, reaching over your head for his phone, “I’ll do it right now.”

You clutch his wrist and shake your head, pulling on his arm until he’s close enough to feel your lashes brush against his skin, “That’s why I didn’t ask. You’ve been dreaming about this program your entire life.”

Stiles is unusually still as he stares you down. His incisor digs into his bottom lip with a cruel bite, “What about your dreams?”

You huff, “What part of #1 don’t you get? I literally just told you to suck it. In case you forgot, I cordially invite you to suck it again, #6.” He smiles, but his eyes remain unconvinced. Your face softens, all the muscles and cartilage going gooey with affection, “It was never about Stanford, Stiles. It was about home. Guess it took you going away to figure out home is with you.”

His lashes flutter slowly as he blinks, shaking his head, tongue running over his teeth as he struggles for air and words in equal measure. You kiss him until he finds them. “I know you don’t believe in it,” Stiles breathes out, “but I don’t think I could survive you being gone. Not again.”

You stroke over the planes of his face and hum thoughtfully, “I believe you wouldn’t want to.” Your shoulder twitches with a quick shrug as you add, “I know I don’t.”

His mouth chases your fingertips, pressing kisses to them every so often, and he closes his eyes heavily—like he hasn’t slept in months, maybe since the night he broke up with you. “These last few months have been just the fuckin’ worst,” he finally manages a smirk after you kiss his nose in agreement, “like a fuckzillion times worse than the summer I broke my leg, and you and Scott signed up for rec soccer without me.”

“You’ve got to let that go,” your voice is high and whiny, and Stiles’s smirk widens, “we didn’t even win any games.” You tickle him, heart leaping into your throat when he laughs and squirms away from your relentless fingers, “Didn’t have our good luck charm with us, obviously.”

“Obviously,” his grin is smug with satisfaction. Stiles tangles your legs together, legs clunking clumsily but that’s just part of the delicious charm, and hooks his chin over your shoulder, “So, Pennypack, huh.”

You nod, “I really don’t want to live in Jersey.”

You can’t see him, but Stiles peers at you, a little dubious, a lot fond. “And it’s not just for me?”

You grin, caught, and shake your head firmly, “Absolutely not.”

“It’s for the cheesesteaks,” his brow arches, and he seems to finally understand when the room becomes a swathe your smile, of your bubbling laughter: He makes you as happy as you make him. 

“Obviously.” You mean, I love you, I love you, I love you, and I never ever want to stop.  Stiles hears it, of course he does, and he says it back, sealing it with a kiss, “Obviously.”

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: creature of mine

"Dunno why, but s'not working this time. M'not resssponding to it." Crowley's eyes flickered with something entirely unreadable. "I need a warm body." "I see." "Can't even use my fingers properly with these bloody claws. Still, feels better to have something warm, something moving." Aziraphale attempted to make sense of Crowley's words, his head pounding viciously. A warm body. "Would you like me to... hold you again?" Crowley smiled, open-mouthed and beastly. His fangs glistened in the darkness. "Need you to fuck me, angel." Or: Aziraphale buys Crowley a snake plant, hoping to please Crowley with the appealing smell of its flowers. Its effects on Crowley are far more extreme than Aziraphale anticipated, and it’s down to him to face them head-on.

Length: 21,253 Words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: After Dark, Canon AU

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by ineffabildaddy, omens_for_ophelia

*Minor Spoilers* Buckle in, it's long post time. I admit to bias in the length of this post because I love this author, but above all, my enjoyment of this story is so genuine and I am so proud to recommend that you all read it too. This was written for the sex pollen event that has been going on recently (so many more for me to read!) and it's one I knew was coming but didn't know too many details about. So when I woke up to the email that it was posted, I knew I was going to have such a good morning, and oooh boy did I.

Caught outside in the rain, Aziraphale steps briefly into an exotic plant shop to stay dry. When he spots a beautiful flowering snake plant, well, he's free from Heaven now and free to buy his friend a gift. And what a gift it will be when they realize that the plant's pollen contains the exact pheromones that trigger Crowley's snake desires. Even though I knew exactly where this was going, the actual journey was so intoxicating. When the effects first take hold, neither of them knows exactly what to do. Both are locked into shame and embarrassment over the situation, but the trust and protection they have for each other is sturdy. Crowley struggles with losing control and the pain of vulnerability, while Aziraphale tries desperately to deny his own wants and desires. He represses it all to protect Crowley. And isn't this just the most beautiful metaphor for their entire relationship? As always, they get there in the end. It's as heartwarming as it is sensual. I will never tire of them completely surrendering to each other.

The thing I always love most about this narrative style is how it blends poetry and smut. It will paint with gorgeous prose and then snap our attention back with its explicit language. It's thrilling to me and a shining example of how rich smut stories can be. I'm awed and horny! And I have to say, this was such a clever and interesting take on Crowley's snake body! Naga/Monster fuckers, this one needs to be made a priority for you. It was described in excellent detail but also depicted gorgeously by the included art! I've still got goosebumps over the third piece of included art! The color palette! The bodies!! The emotion! I'm in love. Both author and artist have a talent for making me feel so at home in my own body with their works. I just trust them implicitly, and they make it so easy to imagine how everything would feel to my own skin.

This is an at-home, after-dark read. It will have you sweating and squirming, but also in awe of their closeness and the trust they have in each other. How endless their devotion is. How beautiful this story is. But let's be real, I'm also thinking about how fun their next round with this plant could be now that they're on the same page. Next time, with the walls completely down, they are going to have the most pleasurable night of their life for the rest of their lives.

Read it here, fic by ineffabildaddy, omens_for_ophelia

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

Seeing people genuinely saying that TTPD is her best work lyrically and that it tops Folklore and Evermore is just WILD to me. Like, am I missing something? Are there two different versions of this album out and I’m listening to the bad one? Because???? TTPD is such a let down. It’s not clever, it’s not even catchy. I like one song and the rest are kind of…are forgettable. I heard “like a tattooed golden retriever” and burst out laughing-like there’s no way we went from folklore and evermore to THAT. I had to stop listening because I just don’t like it. I don’t get it and I’m tired of people telling me that I’m too dumb to understand her genius. I don’t think this album is genius by any means-that’s not to say it doesn’t make sense (although it doesn’t make sense to me at times) but mostly I just don’t get it in terms of like why and what happened to the beautiful writing of folklore and evermore to…this. Folklore and evermore actually resonated with me on such an emotional level and it felt very adult and like Taylor was nuanced in her writing and that she moved on from all her problems stemming from men and “jealous women” and now TTPD just feels like I revisited one a conversation I’ve had with my friends in middle school thinking we were so deep and misunderstood.

Yeah, listen... you're not missing anything

I truly think that the people enjoying the album are blinded by the aesthetic of the album. She's obfuscating the poor writing, and basically incoherent imagery, by using the watered-down cottage core/ dark academia aesthetics. It's almost laughable the way she changes everything about herself just to fit the most popular aesthetic of the day.

She hides bad writing by name-dropping great writers and hoping that, through the power of vague allusion, the names alone will make people think she's in the same league.

She was guilty of this back on Folklore, as well. To be honest the first time I heard "tell me what are my Wordsworth" ("The Lakes), I laughed out loud because it's sooooo silly to make a pun out of one of the most important Romantic Poets of all time. I let it slide back then, because I thought it was a one-off. Still, it's really funny that she apparently knows who Wordsworth is, yet the best she can do with that information is make a pun out of his name.

And now I see her name-dropping, lack luster writing is just the best she can do. I hate that she really thinks of herself as a poet....

As someone who has studied poetry, and written literary criticisms about Emily Dickinson's poetry, it actually makes me angry to see she compares herself to Dickinson. I'm gonna write a post about that problem too.

I have a lot more to say about the gross lyricism of this album.

I have several different analyses that I plan to publish soon.... because it makes me so angry the way she is such phony-baloney nonsense.

More to the point, I'm angry I fell for it. All the use of intense aesthetics and the money she pours into promo, and I fell for it. I was a fan.

Not anymore.

[reginaaxxwrites]

It Took Time (Fred Weasley)

This was been in my draft for months already. I decided to finally post it. This story contains 6.2k words. Enjoy!

*****

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader (With a little bit George x Fem!Reader)

Warning: IT CONTAINS SMUT (Guys, I know this is the first time I released smut fanfiction. I just hope this one is good enough. I did not intend this story to have smut, but there you go. Enjoy your meal.)

*****

How do I start this?

I am madly in love with George Weasley. Yes, the famous George Weasley who always gets into trouble along with his brother, Fred Weasley. It was hard liking someone inside your circle of friends.

I tried not to be obvious about my feelings for him. I try to act casual because it's my way of controlling myself to burst my emotions when I'm with him. But sometimes I just can't help myself from showing him.

George would always sit beside me and talk about everything. Like his favorite spell or his memorable pranks. With every word he says, I can't help but get lost in it. I stare at him with dreamy eyes. And even if I get lost in his words, I still understand everything he said and it always piques my interest. I'll never get tired of his stories.

Unlike his brother, George seems to be more reserved. I don't know how to explain it but without Fred, he wouldn't be as chaotic as he is today. I guess they just complete each other.

"I think he fancies you," Angelina whispered beside me. I nudged her and rolled my eyes.

"I think not. Now, shut up and let me do homework." I continued to write on my parchment paper.

"Boringgg." She yawned.

I would be lying if I say I didn't think that he fancies me. I mean, it's possible. Or maybe I just like to assume things and feed my delusions. Because there are times he would flirt, but I don't know if that was intentional or if it's not.

"Damn you, Angelina." I glared at her. She looks confused as to why I cursed at her.

"I am mad. I really fancy him. And I can't do something about it." I buried myself on the table.

"Then confess to him. You'll never know until you initiate the move to tell him." She's right but what if I have been wrong all this time? That he simply just sees me as his friend.

George Weasley, why are you so hard to read?

"So... Any ideas how will you confess to him?" Angelina leaned on the table with a teasing smirk placed upon her lips.

"Shut it." I tried to ignore her but she was too clever to know it'll just keep bothering me and in the end, I would talk about it.

"Oh, I don't know, Angelina!" I slammed my quill and looked at her. I noticed that the Common Room went silent, so I looked around. They were all looking at me.

Okay, maybe I slam my quill too loud and too hard. I gave them my apology look and went on about what they were doing a while ago.

"Whoa, calm down, girl. You know I think it's unnecessary to confess--"

"But you just said a while ago?!" I am upset. Because it's been frustrating since then when I started to like him.

"I know. But listen to me. Everyone in this room knows you fancy him. Even his twin teases you about it. I'm sure George knows it too somehow. Maybe he just acts dumb because like you, he doesn't want to assume things."

"So, I should confess to him?"

"It's not like it's your obligation to do so. But if it's what you want. If it's the only way to stop you from overthinking then go. Take the risk or lose the chance, they say." Angelina smiled at me. She just knew the right thing to say.

-

I'm scared.

As the day goes by, I intend to show that I like him. But I'm not sure if he can tell. I'm not good with words. Never was. I'm starting to stutter, I can't even look at his eyes when I talk to him. I'm nervous whenever he's around.

Poor George doesn't know what I was feeling. How I was acting weird when he sits beside me during class and in the Great Hall.

If I don't tell him sooner, I'll forever look dumb in front of him.

"I can't tell him," I whispered to myself. Maybe it's because it's too soon. George and I recently got close this year because he joined me in playing exploding snaps during the first day of our sixth year. Ever since then, we just talk and talk.

"Hey, Longbottom." I knew I recognized that voice. I looked to see George making his way beside me.

"George." I greeted with a faint smile.

"I was looking for you."

"You are?" Why was he looking for me? Millions of possibilities went through my mind about why he was looking at me.

"Yes, I am. Lee was telling me about our paper and told me to get you so we could start at the Library." Oh. Of course, our research paper.

"You? When did George Weasley suddenly talk about boring stuff? What piques your interest?" I teased him and he just laughs.

Damn, his laughter. It's making my stomach churn or whatever it is.

"Well for one, Lee wanted to finish this paper so he could still be commenting in the upcoming Quidditch. Because Godric knows how bad his marks are."

"Aren't yours bad as his?" I raised my eyebrow at him.

"Rude but yes. That's one, no, two. And lastly, we know the kind of nerd you are and how you like to finish the given tasks as soon as possible. Aren't we making this easy for you, Longbottom?" He was grinning and looking at me. I swear I could feel my whole face turning into a beet red.

"Fine, Weasley." I took my stuff as he leads the way through the Library where Lee is waiting for us.

Once we entered the Library, Lee waves us over to the table where he was and books are already opened. I sat beside him while George took the seat in front of us.

"You do realize we still have a month to do this paper, right? We don't have to start right away." I told him while I bring out my notebooks and quills and ink.

"Who are you and what have you done to Y/N?" Lee acted surprised as I rolled my eyes at him.

"I mean, the sooner we finish this, the better. Don't you agree, George?" He looked at his best friend who nodded and grinned like an idiot.

"I feel like you two are messing with me." I glared at them.

"Whaaat?"

"Never," George answered.

I didn't push the subject any longer and started to skim the books Lee placed on our table. I guess, it is better to have this paper finished.

Later that night, I told Angelina how my day and her day went like we always do before going to bed.

"Have you decided?" Angelina asked while she was helping me brush my hair. We were both looking at each other in our reflection in the mirror.

"It's only a month since I started liking him. Don't you think it's too soon?" I was already playing with my necklace's pendant which was given by my mother. I did this a lot of times whenever I'm nervous.

My best friend held both of my shoulders and gave me an assuring smile.

"Then take your time. I'm sure you'll get the courage to tell him. I mean, we're Gryffindors, are we?"

"We are."

-

It was getting worst.

Exams are coming soon and I cannot focus. His image comes into my mind and I can't focus. I really need to tell him. I should, it would help me clear my thoughts. It was now or never.

I grabbed my sweater before leaving the Common Room and looked for the red-haired male almost everywhere in the castle. Then, I remembered they were supposed to be at the Courtyard today.

When I finally saw the guy I was looking for, I didn't waste any moment and grabbed his wrist. I heard some of the students whistling and teasing us, including his brother while I look for a quiet place where we can talk.

"Is something the matter, Y/N?" He looked into my eyes, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I... I--there's something I need to tell you..." I could faint at any moment because my hands were cold and shaking.

Deep breaths, Y/N. You can do this.

"Y/N--"

"I like you. It's bad, I know. We became friends not long ago. It was getting worst and I can't just sit still and do nothing about it. You don't have to like me back. And I understand if...if you don't want to be friends with me anymore..." I could feel my cheeks getting wet from my tears.

Ha, why am I crying?

I'm frustrated and confused because, for the first time, he's the first guy who is gentle toward me. I couldn't look at him even though I want to see his reaction. I'm scared.

"I don't know what to say... It's not like every day I received confessions like this. But..." He took a step closer to me. "Could you give me time? To think about, I mean."

I didn't answer him instead, I nodded. I tried to wipe my tears but a hand stopped me and gave me a handkerchief.

"Here. Don't cry."

I went back to the Common Room and saw Angelina waiting for me. She saw how red my eyes are and quickly went over to me. She embraced me, comforting me in her arms.

"How did it go?" She asked as we enter our dorm room. We sat in my bed and she tried to fix my face.

"I do not know. He told me to give him time. But Godric knows he won't talk about that conversation again unless I initiate it."

I tried to avoid George every time we cross the hallways, Angelina would sit beside me during classes and never left my side. 

I was fixing my things when suddenly the door slammed hard. I turned to look around to see Angelina panting hard as if she had run all the way into our dorm room.

"Angelina! Are you all right? You look like you ran--"

"That's because I ran all the way in here." She took off her scarf and throw it on her bed.

"You need to talk to him." She firmly said to me. I looked away.

"Y/N, it's more painful to leave a question not answered than get rejected. I cannot stand my two best friends avoiding each other when they only got to be friends before the term started." She took my hand and helped me to stand up.

"But..."

"I don't want to get your hopes up. But I heard him and Lee talked about you. He told Lee that you had a chance but--"

"Nothing comes good after 'but'." I joked.

"I know. But he's scared, Y/N. He doesn't want to hurt you. If you talk to him now... You might help him to chase away anything that scares him from being with you. You need to take another risk."

Another risk...

"He's in the Common Room. Talk to him, Y/N. If it doesn't work out then I'm here for you. Always." She kissed my cheeks and pulled me out of the room. We took downstairs and saw the three of them.

He was laughing together with his best friends, Lee and Fred. Angelina went over to them and the two boys stood up. They both looked at me and smiled. The boys and Angelina left the room, leaving me and George.

"Y/N."

"George."

"Am I an idiot for liking you this much? Because if I am, then I must be the most idiotic of all idiots." I fake laughed but he didn't. His face showed an expression I'd never seen before. It was dark. It feels like he took my breath away.

He took steps closer to me.

"I'm sorry. I don't think I am ready to be with someone. I don't want to hurt you because you are one of the most important people in my life." I saw how he wanted to touch me or take my hand. But something was stopping him. It's like he can't take the risk of touching me like I'm fragile. He thinks that once he touches me, I'm going to break. He is scared of hurting me more.

"I'm sorry for making you wait for nothing."

"No, I get it. And I'm sorry... For avoiding you, for acting like I didn't know you, or pretending like we weren't friends at all after I did something that made you feel uncomfortable." I gave him a faint smile.

"I hope we can still be friends."

"We are friends, George. We always will be." our eyes never left looking at each other until the clock struck midnight.

"Good night, Weasley. I'll see you tomorrow." I started to walk away. I didn't bother to wait for his response.

"Good night." I heard him say before I reach the top of the stairs to look at him one last time before entering into my dorm room.

-

The rejection helped me to calm my thoughts. To stop me from assuming but the sudden actions from him never stopped. How he makes sure I don't get sweaty and hot from the sun's heat. Or when it rains he casts a spell to make an umbrella and we would share it.

I don't get him.

How can I move on when his words are contradicting his actions? Why does he keep making me a fool?

"What're you three doing?" I saw the twins and Lee brewing something in their cauldron. Potions ingredients were everywhere. If McGonagall saw this mess they would've been sent to detention straight away.

Bananas.

Newt Spleens

An orange snake.

A green leaf.

"Fred and George Weasley! You're making an aging potion! And you, Lee Jordan, tell me why am I not surprised that you're also a part of this?" I know what they're trying to do. They're going to try and trick the Goblet of Fire.

"Of course, you could tell by looking at the ingredients. Brilliant, isn't she?" Fred grinned like an idiot.

"No need to state what's always been obvious, Forge." He commented on his brother. They continued to mix the potion as if I wasn't there to scold them which I am debating on it.

"Have you decided?" Lee asked.

"What?"

"It's painful to look at you when you're trying to decide whether to tell McGonagall or you'd rather help us finish this potion." He explained.

"Actually... I'm not. Because this is stupid. Dumbledore cast a spell around the Goblet. You cannot trick the Goblet of Fire or Dumbledore." I lectured them but they just snickered.

These boys.

"No wonder Hermione worships the ground you walk, Longbottom." Fred teased me as I rolled my eyes at him.

"You three are going to regret it," I warned them but they just seem not to care.

"And thank you for the warning." The twins said in chorus.

"But"

"you know us--"

"breaking the rules." They gave me their most mischievous smiles.

I looked at Lee and he just shrugged. "What they said."

The next day, we were in the Great Hall during our free time. Hermione sat beside me, reading her book while I helped my brother with his assignment.

"You're joking," I told my brother. He looked at me, confused.

"You don't need my help in Herbology, Neville. You have high marks than I was when I'm in your year. Have confidence in yourself."

"Really?" I pinched his cheeks as I nod at his question.

Suddenly we heard laughter and looked to see the three pig brains. They went over in our direction while holding a small bottle containing the potion.

"Done it." Fred showed us the potion. I rolled my eyes at him while Hermione was trying to stop them.

"Honestly, don't even try," I whispered to her but she continued.

"It's not going to work." Hermione sang the words as the twins went closer to her. Fred looking at her, closely as well as George.

"Oh, really, Granger?" Fred smirked at her. Hermione tried to explain what I already told them last night.

And of course, they didn't listen to her and drank the potion. She looked at me, annoyed at the three boys. I mouthed her 'I told you, so.' before she went back to her book. Harry and Ron seem to be fascinated by the trick.

After they drank the potion, they stepped inside the circle and the students clapped and cheered them on.

Oh, now I'm curious what's going to happen. I watched them put their paper in the Goblet. We saw nothing happen to them so the students clapped in amazement. Of course, I believed that something is still going to happen.

And something did happen.

"Argh!" Lee, Fred, and George flew out of the circle as they aged into an old man. Peals of laughter filled the entire Great Hall. I couldn't help but also laugh. They tried to punch each other and put the blame on one another.

Later that day, Angelina and I decided to visit them in the Hospital Wing. They were finally going back to their age. Well, almost.

"I'd say a beard looks good on you, Weasley." I joked as I sat beside his bed. I touched his beard as he chuckled.

"I still look like a thirty-year-old man." He smiled.

"Better than looking like an eighty-year-old man."

"Ouch. I expect to still look handsome at that age." He placed his right arm on his left chest as if he was struck in the heart.

"Are you? I didn't take a good look. I was busy laughing earlier." I teased him and Godric, I hated when he gave me that smirk on his lips. I want to rip it.

Calm down, Y/N.

"At least tell me I made a perfect potion. Don't want to disappoint a potion master."

"You... You were never bad at potions, George Weasley." I gave him a gentle smile and he just kept quiet looking at me.

-

"I was already rejected and yet I still hope for us to happen." I buried my face in my pillow. My best friend sat beside me.

"Why do I feel like you're about to try and confess to him one more time?" I know she was teasing but damn her because she is giving me an idea to do so.

"Oh, no. I am only joking, Y/N! Don't even think about it." She said, firmly. "I swear I'm this close to swinging a bat on a bludger and then aiming it in his face."

"Please don't."

"I won't. Only because you said 'please'."

"What am I supposed to do? I expect these feelings would go away after getting rejected. Now, I'm only falling deeper." I'm starting to cry again out of frustration.

"Nothing. Just nothing." She looks at me as I sat down properly at my bed.

"You are not the problem here, Y/N. He's the one to blame. Putting you in this position where you should be moving on. Because Godric's sword, if only you know how boys from Durmstrang and Beauxbaton look at you every time you walked past them."

"What?"

"See. You don't need to set your eyes only on one boy who rejected you but proceeds to act as if he fancies you. Find other guys. Move on."

"But what if he does like me? He's just not ready like he said..."

"That's bullshit. It doesn't matter whether you're ready or not. If you like someone, you'd still pursue them, take the risk even if it's scary. Just like you did. Clearly, he's giving you mixed signals." Angelina sounded angry. She was annoyed like she wanted to punch George if she ever saw him.

"Would you get mad if I told you that I just sent him a letter? Confessing to him the second time?" I pout as she turns her face into a sour one.

"Y/N LONGBOTTOM!" She was angry. Really angry. "What exactly did you write in that letter?!"

"That I still fancy him. That if I didn't receive an owl from him later this evening, it means... All he did meant nothing to him."

"Please swear to me that this will be the last thing you will do." She just sighed.

"I promise."

"Then, are you sure you're ready for whatever response you receive from him?" Angelina looked worried for me. That's why I am lucky to have her by my side.

"Yes."

As expected from him, I didn't receive any owls from him. I slept through the night so I don't have to cry until it reaches morning.

My best friend and I went to breakfast, avoiding that one Weasley. While I was eating and chatting with Angelina, someone poked my sides. I look to see Fred, grinning as he sat beside me.

"Morning." He greeted us.

"Is there something you need, Fred?" Angelina raised an eyebrow at her friend.

"Nothing. I just wanted to eat breakfast." He shrugged his shoulders while placing a toast on his plate and into mine.

"I can get my own toast." I sounded mean but I didn't mean to.

"Looks like someone had a bad sleep."

"She did, Fred." Angelina rolled her eyes at him.

"I see... Well, let me just enjoy my breakfast, at least." Fred grinned like an idiot.

-

The twins were a bit mean when they started a bet between Harry and Cedric. Poor Harry seemed to look like he wants to drop out of the Tournament. Sadly, he can't because it's part of the rules.

And then there's Fred, who would always pester me around. He would poke my sides, even if he goddamn well knows that's my tickle spot. He would open up to me easily, telling me how he had a crush on Angelina during our 4th year. But stopped pursuing her because my best friend clearly doesn't look interested in dating him.

We became closer. We became more than acquaintances. We were close friends.

We became inseparable.

Angelina noticed it. How happy I am. I was blooming, she said. She never saw me this happy. And she was wondering why but didn't bother to have it answered because all she cares about was my happiness.

"You're an idiot, Fred." I scold him. "And stop that betting game you and your twin started. It only brings war upon Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors."

"You know, I've noticed you kept saying 'your twin'." He changed the subject. I looked away and watch the birds fly into the gloomy sky.

We are both in Black Lake to get some fresh air.

"I do not know what you mean."

"Damn, I know he rejected you. But I get it. You see, the problem with George is that he's afraid of women. He once liked Angelina but he did nothing about it." I was surprised that George liked Angelina. This is the first time I am hearing this.

"You both liked the same girl?"

"It always happens. A bit frustrating, honestly. But at times like that, I'm willing to give up the woman I like for him. We're twins but he's the younger one so..."

"You let go."

"Always. For my twin's happiness."

"What about yours?" I felt pity for him. I know I shouldn't because he wouldn't like that.

"George's happiness is my happiness." He smiled at me. But I know it was a sad one. I leaned my head against his shoulder.

"A true Gryffindor." I felt him chuckle.

"So are you."

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

Oh, no.

No... I can't possibly be falling for him now. This would be an outrage. I can't.

It's only been three months ever since I stopped liking George. Three months since then I have not talked to him.

"You and Fred seemed gotten closer. Both of you suited more perfectly." Angelina, once again, I know she's joking but she isn't helping.

Does she need to know? Must she know? I don't know. She might make fun of me.

Godric, it feels like a sin to fall for Fred.

"Oh, dear... I know that look. You like Fred." She placed her hand on her lips and went beside me. "Tell me everything." She doesn't look disgusted. Instead, she looks like she's excited.

I told her everything I know and she can't remove her smile ever since I started talking.

"Godric! I knew it!" She was giggling. "So what do you intend to do?"

"Nothing. I can't let him know. He can't know. I won't confess. I won't tell him anything." I mumbled.

"Right. Let him be the one to develop his feelings for you. You don't have to do anything this time." She smiled and pulled me into a hug.

"You should never feel guilty for liking someone. I pray that this time, Fred will do exactly the opposite George did to you. You two suit together, really."

"Thank you, Angelina. For everything."

"What friends are for?"

-

Professor McGonagall announced that there will be a ball. The ball is only exclusive for the fourth year and above.

Our head of house started to prepare us for the ball. She called all Gryffindors from the fourth year and above to practice our dance steps. So we don't look stupid on the day of the event.

Ron and his friends joked about something while looking at Eloise Mignon. I felt my insides get irritated and then McGonagall called him over for a dance. Fred and George made fun of their brother as well as Harry.

"Now, boys. Find your partners." I saw my brother the first one to rise on his chair. I smiled at him and asked Hermione to dance with him. She gladly accepted my brother's offer.

The other boys finally went to our side. Fred reached my wrist and pulled me on the dance floor.

"Really? No asking but pull the woman you see first? How gentleman of you, Weasley." I joked as he laughs at my words.

"Pleasures all mine, Longbottom." He winked at me as he spun me and then dipped me down while his hand was on my waist and the other one on my hand.

I saw George looking in our direction while he was dancing with Angelina. I immediately broke our eye contact and focus on Fred.

"Smooth." I smiled. "Who do you plan to ask on the ball?" 

"Maybe Angelina? Or some girls from other houses." He answered. I got to admit that it broke my heart a little. I thought that it might occur to him that he can ask me.

"And you?" 

"No one." 

"I thought you were waiting for George to ask you." He teased but ignored it.

"Well, you thought wrong." I didn't mean to sound annoyed but I am. I don't why my mood changes suddenly. "Sorry..." 

"Hey, don't be. I heard girls tend to get stressed on upcoming occasions like this." I unbelievably looked at him. "What? I mean, has anyone asked you?"

"That's a bit rude to ask a girl." I raised my eyebrow at him.

"So, no one--"

"Fred!" I playfully hit his arm. "Of course, someone had asked me. But I turned them down."

"May I ask why?"

"I'm waiting for someone to ask me." I could feel my cheeks burn from embarrassment.

"George, then." He continued to tease me to his twin.

"Please stop." He just laughs at me and continued to dance me away.

The day of the Yule Ball came.

The person I wanted to ask me, is going with someone from Beauxbaton. While my best friend is going with George. 

"Stop fussing over your dress, Y/N." Angelina scolded me while she tries to adjust the back part of my dress.

"Must I attend?" I groaned.

"Yes! Because this might be the last time you'll experience this as a teenager. Now do me a favor and have fun." She finished fixing my dress and place an accessory on my hair.

"You look beautiful."

"I look like a clown." 

"I know you feel bitter because of him but please don't let it ruin your night. Besides going without a date has its perks." She winked at me while I got up and took my white shawl to keep me warm for the night.

"Like what?"

"You can flirt with any guy!"

"Funny. Because you know exactly enough that I can't flirt." I rolled my eyes. "So...you and George?"

"It was a last minute. He just happened to ask me in front of Lee and Fred just to prove to Ron and Harry that they can ask any girl to the dance. We're going as friends." I can't help but smile when Angelina told me what happened.

"Idiots." Both of us giggled the way out of the dorm and went downstairs. 

We saw George patiently waiting for his date, together with Lee. George's eyes were on me instead of Angelina's. I immediately looked away and pretended that didn't happen.

"You look stunning." He complimented her. I went beside Lee who smiled at me.

"Who's the lucky girl?" I asked Lee. The two started walking and we followed.

"Oh, I'm going alone." 

"Why?"

"I'm having trouble who to ask. So, I decided not to come with a date." I immediately understood what he meant.

"How about you? I heard you received a lot of requests and yet you rejected every one of them." Lee gave me his playful smirk as I rolled my eyes at him.

"Piss off, Jordan. Maybe I decided to come alone just like you did." 

"An answer that I'll never believe it's true." I slapped his arm, and we laughed it off as we reached the Great Hall.

Students are already interacting with each other. Giving compliments on how they looked good and the dress robes they were wearing. Some were already dancing while others are eating appetizers and drinking butterbeer.

While Lee keeps talking about asking the girl from Beauxbaton to dance and telling me exactly how he will approach the girl. A tall red-haired caught my gaze. Even though everyone can't tell who is who. I know and I can tell.

He looks handsome in his robes. That long hair he tried not to cut for a new look. But he looks good whether his hair is long or short. I pray not that he will not look in my way. Because I know what he'll do if he does. And I am not yet ready.

"Why don't you go and ask her already? I'm thirsty so I'll go fetch some drinks, okay?" I push my friend towards the girl. He didn't utter another word so I made my way to the tables.

I wasn't feeling to drink anything but water. After I got myself some water, I went further away from the crowd and the dance floor. I hid from my friends because I didn't want them to adjust to me. I want them to have fun without feeling obligated to make me feel better.

A famous band, Weird Sisters, started to take the floor. All of the students laugh and dance the night away. I saw two familiar Gryffindors, who also seems not to enjoy the event.

"And here I thought you went for the evening." I look up to see him lending his hand to me.

"And I thought no one will ever notice that I'm gone." 

"It's already impossible to not notice you, love." He was still waiting for me to take my hand. I was hesitating, scared even. 

"Were... Were you looking for me?" I asked.

"From the moment the ball started. But it seems you were hiding from the crowd." He answered. I took his hand and then led me to the dance floor. 

"I might start to think you fancy me." I joked. He pulled me closer, placing his hands around my waist. His face was close to mine. I could smell his cologne, his breath. I could feel him, his warmth. My heart was racing. 

"What if I am?" He answered in his low voice. His forehead rested on mine, never breaking his gaze on me.

"You're playing pranks on me." 

"Maybe I am." 

"Then stop."

"I can't." 

His eyes kept looking into mine and my lips. He was moving closer as if he was about to kiss me. Maybe he was. When the music stopped playing so did he.  

"I'm sorry." He gently pulled away from me.

"What for?"

"This." I felt sharp in my gut. "Shit. That's not what I meant."

"Clearly, it is. Good night, Fred." I turned my back on him and ran outside the Great Hall. I didn't expect him to follow me through the Courtyard.

"Y/N, please. Listen to me."

"I get it. I know you feel sorry for me. I know that the girl you asked should be the one you held earlier like that. So, why did you even bother to look for me, Fred? I am just your friend, aren't I?" My face was burning in anger but it was also cold because it was snowing. I was stupid for forgetting my coat in the Great Hall because I tried to run away from him.

"You are my friend. And you like my brother. So, you see? I'll be damned if he knew I was about to kiss you." 

"Coward."

"What?"

"George made it clear he didn't like me. But I know it's also wrong to like you after George." Tears started to fall on my cheeks. "Merlin's beard, you are his brother, his twin. What will they think of me once they know I like you when not long ago I was trying to chase your brother?"

"We can't argue again because of a girl. I like you. Hell, I dreamt about holding you close to me, kissing you. Some of it came true, it was enchanting while it lasts." He tried to laugh it off. There was pain in his voice, his eyes were longing for me.

"I think I'm in love with you. You saw and accepted me. Understood me and my messy life. You have been patient with me. But I can't be with you when I know he's starting to fall for you." 

"That's not true."

"It is. You don't have to believe in me. But you will when he tells you. I'm encouraging him to. So, please. Let all your feelings for him fall back in."

"No. You don't get to decide for me. And you don't get to set free all the things so that your brother could get it. You may care for his happiness, but I care for yours." I stomp all my way to him. It was hard to walk wearing my gown and the heavy snow on the ground.

"George had his chance with me. He took that for granted. You don't have to fix things for him. I understand you love your brother, unconditionally. Because I also have a brother that I'm willing to bet my life on. But I know he can take care of himself. He can make his own choices. I guide him but that's just it. His actions, his consequences to face." 

"Y/N..."

"You're a good brother, Fred." I smiled at him.

"She's right, Gred." Fred and I turned to see George walking toward us.

"It turns out this potion worked." He showed us an empty bottle of invisibility potion. 

"I'm sorry for making you feel like you don't deserve anything at all you have to give everything so that I could have it. You don't have to sacrifice everything." He placed his hand on his brother's shoulder.

George then looked at me. He removed his coat and placed it on my shoulder.

"I guess I liked you a little too late." He placed his hand on the top of my head and when closer to my ear.

"Thank you." He messed up my hair and left the two of us.

Fred took my hand as he removed his brother's blazer. We followed him when Fred threw the coat on him.

"She doesn't need it." He said and he led me somewhere more quiet. I heard George laugh as we disappear in his sight.

We entered an empty classroom. He closed the door behind him and muttered spells on it. I was starting to get nervous. 

"Fred?" 

He turned to look at me. It was like seeing a whole different version of him.

"Sorry. Are you still cold?" He went close to me and held both sides of my arms. Caressing them to make me feel warm.

"A little." My eyes found his. 

We were about to kiss and this one would be it.

His lips found mine. He was gentle but started to get rough when I kissed him back, trying to follow him as if he was leading me. He lifted my weight which I was surprised by because I have a plump body. I don't have a toned and thin body like any other girl. And yet he still managed to lift me up as he placed me on a table. His rough, huge hands roam and grabbed my thighs. A moan escaped from my mouth.

"Don't hold it back in." He whispered between our kisses.

"Someone could hear us." 

"I cast a spell, love. No one can hear you. So be loud as you can be." He bit my lip and then his kisses went down on my neck. I could feel he was trying to hold back leaving me marks.

His body rested between my thighs. I could feel him getting hard every time he pushed his body while he kissed me. He was trying so hard not to undress me so he stayed his hands on my bare thighs.

"Tell me to stop. Tell me to go on. Whatever you want. I'll do it. Tell me." He stopped kissing me. His lips were plump and had lipstick stains. My hand went over to his buttoned shirt and unbuttoned the first one.

"Do not stop." With that, his hand on my thigh went higher to grab my ass. I grabbed his wrist while my other hand tried to mess up his hair.

"God, you're breathtaking." While kissing my neck, he slowly unzipped the back of my dress. I felt the warmth of his hand on my bare back. I wasn't wearing any bra so it was easy for him to access my breasts.

He grabbed my breast while his tongue played with my nipple. I arched back in pleasure, making it easy for him to do what he was doing.

"Fred..."

"Be patient, darling." He pulled away from me and completely removed my dress, leaving me only with my undergarment. He also removed his top as I was still sitting on the table. I was awed to see him topless. Quidditch training did his body justice.

He went over to me once more to kiss me. 

"Open your legs." His voice filled with such dominance that I didn't hesitate to do what I was told. He continued to kiss me, massaging my breasts. Those kisses slowly went down my neck, chest, stomach...and down to my...

"Fred!" 

"Do you want to stop?" He asked. I was thankful for making sure I still want to continue.

"It's just..."

"What is it, love? Tell me." 

"Must you kiss me down there?" I looked away because I just asked a dumb question. I heard him chuckle and placed his hand on my chin to make me look at him.

"Do you trust me?"

I nodded at him and he smiled, kissing my forehead for assurance.

"I'm preparing you so you won't have to feel pain."

He slowly removed my undergarment and kissed my pelvis as he went down to my womanhood. As soon as I felt his lips and tongue on my folds, I arched back. The empty classroom was filled with my moans and his kisses. I was starting to feel like I'm going to explode so I grabbed his hair. He stopped.

"Not yet." He licked his lips and unbuckled his trousers. I saw how huge he was. I was starting to get scared, wondering if it'll fit inside me.

"Do you still want to continue?" He asked one more time.

"Will it hurt?" 

"Maybe. You have to tell me. May I have your permission?"

"Yes."

He slowly entered his length inside me. I winced in pain but knew Fred that was trying to be gentle as much as possible. When the whole of him was already inside me, he kissed my cheeks and tried to whisper sweet nothings. He was slowly thrusting, making sure I was feeling all nothing but pleasure before fasting his pace.

He continued to kiss me as his pace started to go fast. My moans were getting louder as well as his groans. He keeps kissing my neck and shoulders, hugging me ever so tightly. We were both close to our climax. And when he did, he pulled it out.

He kissed my forehead and went over to pick up my clothes. He helped me to clean up before we put our clothes back on.

"Can you walk?" He asked when he saw me struggling to stand straight.

"It's a little sore down there," I tell him. He looked like he was sorry for what he did. I smiled and tiptoed to kiss his cheeks.

"I'll be gentle next time. I promise." He said and then placed his coat on my shoulder. "Warm enough?" He smirked at me.

I knew it was a lie when he told me he'd be gentle. Because he never was. Can't blame a man with this amount of energy.

*****

[avocado-writing]

Hey, so recently my mum and sister have been calling me unlovable and unmarryable (long story, they're not dealing well with the stress of planning my sisters wedding) and even though I think they don't mean it, it's really getting to me. Please may I request Aziraphale comforting reader who is going through this type of thing too? Extra points for smut?

notes: hey anon, what the fuck? i'm your new mum now. fuck that noise, we're not here for it. hope this helps babe.

pairing: aziraphale x reader

rated: M

He can tell when you’re miserable. There will be a little clench of your jaw, a hitch in your voice, and he’ll immediately ask you what’s wrong. And that’s when you’re trying to hide it. Today there is no clever cover-up. Today you are just sad.

Aziraphale finds you staring out the window of his shop at the rainy London street. You look tired. He can see the tears in your eyes that you were clearly trying to hide by facing away, but when they begin to fall fat and heavy down your cheeks there is no pretending otherwise. The angel reaches out to pull you into him, and you grip his coat ever so tightly.

“My dear, what’s the matter?”

“Sorry. Oh god, fuck, this is so stupid. Sorry, I didn’t meant to say ‘fuck’ - ”

“Take a breath, love,” he suggests, and you do, a long, juddering one, but a breath nonetheless. The long swooping motion of his hand caressing your back helps steady you, and eventually you’re able to talk.

“My mum just said something horrible, that’s all.”

“Oh, well. I’m sure whatever she said wasn’t true, my darling.”

“She said I’m not marriageable. I’m not loveable.”

Aziraphale stills. He takes you by the biceps and gently pulls you to arm’s length, giving you a look of utter horror. There’s a long pause, and for a moment you’re worried it’s because you’ve done something wrong, but it’s because he’s trying to work out what to say. What can he say? It’s such a ridiculous thing that’s been told to you, he can’t picture someone telling you such a lie. 

“That’s…” he scrambles for something to say, but settles on simply, “not true. That’s not true at all my dear. Anyone would be very glad to be your spouse, I’m certain of it. And as for ‘unloveable’, I’ve never heard a lie more brazen.”

“Oh, come off it, Aziraphale…”

“I’m not joking,” he states, firm. You dare to look up at him through watery eyelashes and find nothing but sincerity. And then his grip on your arms turns to a gentle stroke of his thumbs, and the anger on his face melts to softness, and he whispers, “you are very much loveable, I assure you.”

A spark of something fizzes between you. Something that’s been growing for ages, actually, but neither of you have quite been brave enough to act on it. But finally Aziraphale sees his opening.

He kisses you, and you turn to jelly in his arms; his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip and you open your mouth to allow him access. You cling to him tightly, as if you’re afraid that if you don’t you’ll topple over. When you break for breath, you pull away before he can capture you again.

“Aziraphale, look, you don’t have to – you’re not obligated – “

“I’m not doing this because I feel I owe you something, my darling. I’m doing it because I’ve wanted to for a very long time now.”

You crumble.

He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you, everywhere he can reach, everywhere he has to strip to access, and he lays you down on the sofa in his office - he cannot hold himself off long enough to get to his bedroom - and makes love to you the way you deserve. Where every touch tells you how much he treasures you, each roll of his hips promising he’d never lie about how he feels.

And then, between open-mouthed kisses and gentle nips at your lovely bare skin, a litany of “I love you”s. Because, look at you. Who couldn’t?

taglist: @angiestopit@dazed-soul @@foolishprincipalitee@smile-eywa@staygoldsquatchling02@underratedboogeyman@cool-ontherun-world@emilynissangtr@cool-iguana@this--is--music @ilyatan @lxsm2@clarina04@wtfhasmy-lifecometo@mrgatotortuga@wereallbrokenangels @night-affiliate @silcosmoke@kimqueenofhell@chewbrry @bajablast23 @h3k3t@am-i-obsessed---maybe @bakerstreethound

[charliedawn]

How would the slashers react to a very hyper nurse like super positive all the time?

Freddy was surprised when he first met you. You were smiling all the time and even when things got tough, you always seemed so happy.

So, he just had to ask.

Freddy : "Say....Aren't you ever tired ?"

Freddy was surrounded by negativity and darkness since birth and just wondered how you could even exist ?

You *smile knowingly* : "I'm surrounded by people who actually need me and who I care for. Why wouldn't I be happy ?"

Freddy was surprised by your very honest answer before chuckling and ruffling your hair playfully.

Freddy *sighs before smiling back at you* : "Don't ever lose your smile, alright kiddo ?"

Penny had tried multiple times to make you scream, to feel your fear and make you afraid of him.

But, each time, you had only smiled or laughed—as if all of his attempts had only been jokes to you.

He was puzzled by it, until he finally learned to accept it.

But then, one day, he just had to ask.

Penny : "Why...?"

You *turn your head towards him* : "Why what ?"

Penny *looks at you* : "Why...Do you always show Penny a smile ? Penny tried to hurt you. Kill you. Eat you...So, why ?"

Your eyes widened at his question, but you only smiled and shrugged.

You : "Penny never scared me. I like Penny."

Penny didn't know what to answer to that, but he did snigger at the end—in an attempt to make you upset.

Penny : "And you think Penny likes you ?"

However, you didn't lose your smile and only shrugged again.

You *smile knowingly* "Yes. Or, Penny would be gone."

He seemed to ponder on your words for a second before smiling.

Penny : "Human...Too clever for their own good."

Pennywise was the most frustrated.

He couldn't understand why you would always be so happy ? It infuriated him to no point.

So, in a desperate attempt to have a reaction out of you—he yelled.

"FEAR ME !"

You went still for a moment and Pennywise thought he had succeeded, until you smiled softly at him and asked.

"Why do you want me to fear you ?"

The question caught him off guard and he stayed silent for a moment before scoffing.

"So I can eat you. Obviously."

"And...you want to eat me ?", you asked hesitantly.

His eyes widened at the question and he was about to answer when your eyes met and Pennywise only tssked before looking away.

"...You're annoying.", he replied instead of answering your question before walking away and you smiled again.

He would be back. You both knew it.

Jason was surprised when you first visited his cell and his eyes settled on your smile.

There were smiles he recognized as mocking or fake, but yours was so bright and genuine—it took him by surprise.

And even years after, it still felt surreal how you could just smile at the slashers and make them feel at home.

It had never even been a possibility for Jason. He thought he would never find another family.

But, he found one with you.

And he never asked why you were smiling, or why you weren't afraid of them.

He was just happy to see you and enjoy whatever time he had in your blissful company.

You made him smile, and that was the only thing he needed to know.

Myers found you an enigma.

He had attempted to kill you so many times, had even tried to drown you...because you brought Michael hope.

But, he had to admit to have developed a certain admiration for you.

It was hard to keep a smile and show one's face so plainly. Michael Myers had never been able to catch human feelings, but seeing you so happy had made something shift in him.

Myers didn't know if it was for the best though ?

Myers *grabs you harshly and spats* : "Why ? Why won't you stop smiling ?"

You *smile* : "Because I am showing Michael Myers that he can trust me."

Myers *tilts his head in incomprehension* : "...And how is that ?"

You *smile confidently* : "Because no matter what, I'll always trust him enough to smile."

Your answer made him release you and take a couple of steps back in shock.

It was a funny feeling. Myers had never been surprised before...but, it seemed exceptions did exist.

And you, you would remain an enigma.

But, he would let you live. For now.

Jack smiled the first time he saw you because he thought you were naive, easy to manipulate.

But then, he learned that you were far from it.

You never failed at your job and kept all the slashers in check—all that while keeping a smile on your face.

It wasn't a stupid smile full of illusions, as he had first thought it to be. You didn't see them as defenseless or worthy of sympathy. That wasn't the reason you were smiling.

Jack : "...You don't have to smile for us, you know.."

He thought he would relieve you of whatever duty you thought you had towards them.

But, he didn't expect your answer.

You : "What a silly thing to say...Who else would I be smiling for ?"

His eyes widened as he faced you and found you smiling again and then—he understood.

You were smiling for no selfish reason. You were smiling because you wanted to.

And that made the great Jack Torrance question everything he knew.

There was nothing Brahms liked more than seeing other people smile. It brought him joy like no other.

He always made sure to be kind and help you when he could.

And seeing you smile was the best reward for him.

So, you always made sure to make him smile in turn. You didn't care if it made you look bad or somehow silly sometimes, you knew that you had to keep a smile on your face for him.

And he never questioned you about it.

Because no matter what, he would keep his smile as long as you would.

"You don't have to pretend."

Five once told you and your smile faltered for just a second at the worried expression he had on.

But, it didn't drop as you embraced him and said assuredly.

"I am not. And you shouldn't either.."

It was the first time Five found himself crying in front of someone else since the Apocalypse.

And you held him tight.

There was nothing in this world that would have possible forced you to let go—as you knew your smile was the only thing keeping him from falling into despair.

"Please. Stop smiling."

It was a strange request, but you still sought to understand.

"Why ?"

He stared at you and for a moment, you thought he was actually going to hurt you.

His knuckles turned white from how tight his fists were clenched and when he leaned forward to stare at you in the eyes, you could almost feel feel his eyes drill holes into your very skull.

"Because your smile burns me.", he finally confessed in a whisper and your eyes widened—as he genuinely seemed in pain.

You tried to reach out for him, but he left before you could touch him.

He had accomplished the most horrible of acts in his life, faced more than his share of threats...And yet, that smile was the very thing that he feared the most.

[fumifooms]

I think you made me start shipping Marchil

Your posts got me thinking about their dynamic then I wrote a fic that was supposed to be platonic but midway through I realized it could actually be interpreted as romantic too and now I'm just sad about how little time they'll have together

First of all, you have a lovely icon, second, I’m so honored… I finally read Not a bad way to go and it was soo so good like. My god!!! Pre-canon is underused and you did so many interesting things with it.

It sounded like a cruel joke, that the one who needed her concern the most was also the one least interested in it.

^^^ go read it go read it

Chilchuck was drunk enough that he needed to hold onto the walls not to fall, but apparently still sober enough to remember emotional vulnerability was his worst enemy, as he made sure to avert her eyes and said: “Namari made me come talk to you ” to make it clear he wasn't being nice voluntarily.

Yeah.

“Of course I'm scared of dying.” He scoffed. Did she really think so little of him? “But if I could choose, I would want to die doing something I love, like drinking. Or maybe fucking,”

Maybe you wish you didn’t know but my new favorite HC because of this is that Chil dies yes prematurely not of liver failure though but during coitus. Especially if marchil, the thought of him busting a nut and his heart giving out makes me laugh so hard. My god. Lmao. Oh god. Lmfao. Worst day of her life

Marcille knew Chilchuck wasn't a kid, but she often struggled to take him seriously as an adult because he was just so adorable and small. In this moment, however, she saw them exactly for what they were, even if it was just a glimpse. A sheltered, naive little girl trying to tell a tired, much more experienced man how to live the rest of his life.

Standing ovation

She tried to find an explanation to give him, but she couldn't even find one for herself. Why would she miss him? He was just Chilchuck, her coworker, Chilchuck who was cold, aloof, sometimes crass, evasive, and even outright mean. He who was level headed, reliable, trustworthy, perceptive and clever. He who had the least time left, even in a best case scenario. “I guess that despite your best efforts, there's still a lot to like about you.”

This fic goes so hard, standing ovation pt 2

“I just think it's better if we don't get too close. Don't you agree?” “I… maybe” she said, uncertain as he didn't know how to feel about that. Caring about people would only hurt her in the wrong run, she knew that, but unfortunately she couldn't help it.

I looove how they can be read to be similar on this aspect. My hand clenching around my phone as I rear up to rant about Marcille and the way she does keep people at an arm’s length subconsciously again my god my goood. Obsessed with this obsessed with this, underused for marchil. Terrified of loss through death vs rejection duo I love youuu

Brilliant ending I’m in shambles. I’m not gonna spoil it

You get marchil so much you truly do. The way they mesh, the way their views on mortality clash and both soothe & bruise… He doesn’t have much time left even in best case scenario (which Mr I won’t eat well I’ll drink and smoke a lot I’ll stress all day every day is determined to not make happen) which makes it all the more meaningful for Marcille’s arc when she learns from him to finally enjoy the present moments… It’ll only be a fraction of her life, but to him he’s giving her the rest of his life. What are some decades of love worth? Worth it, surely, if nothing else

[winchesterscorner]

[Sam Winchester] - Unlikely Places

♫ - Fallingforyou - The 1975

Kansas was beautiful in the fall. The sidewalks are filled with an array of red and orange leaves, and the weather is cool and dry. When fall arrived, it filled the days with a nostalgic atmosphere that was perfect for long night walks and hot drinks. Or, in your case, sitting on the porch bench with a hot drink, instead. You were too tired to go out, tonight, and so you opted for the comfort of a blanket and some hot chocolate, and to your surprise, company.

Sam Winchester had been your closest friend for as long as you could remember. You had done everything together, really. Played pranks on adults (but mostly Dean), seen each other through heartaches, seen each other through joy, been everywhere together. You were often described as inseparable, and where one went, the other was sure to follow. He'd been your confidant, and you his, and you were so grateful he stuck around you for as long as he had. 

These nights were perfect for reminiscing, and who better to do it with than Sam.

"Hey," you started, cuddling closer under the blanket with him. "You remember in elementary school when it came down to us two in the class spelling bee, and I beat you because you couldn't spell 'intrigue'?"

Sam chuckled and shook his mane of hair.

"Yeah, I do. You got me by one letter. One letter! I still beat you at chess that one time, though."

"Never going to let me live that one down, are you?"

"Never," he smiled down at you, and you merely raised a brow and feigned a huff.

"Well, I believe this night is over." You pretended to stand, but he pulled you back. "Good night, Winchester."

"Oh come on," he poked your tongue back in after you stuck it out at him. " Is it that hard to admit that I'm clever?"

"Yes."

Sam stared at you point blank, and you glared back, before you both erupted into laughter again, taking a sip of your drink. You rested your head against his arm, and he leaned his head against your own,just savouring in each other's presence. You'd had many moments like this, sat in quiet thought with Sam, but tonight, you were feeling different. You shrugged it off, trying to ignore it.

"Hey, Y/n," Sam started, making sure you were awake. "Remember when we almost got murdered by those demons, but you practically hijacked a taxi and saved our asses?"

"There's no practically about it, Sam. I definitely hijacked that taxi. Poor guy, must've been in shock."

"Wouldn't you be, some pretty individual engages you in the politest hijacking ever?" Sam laughed, and you stared at him.

"Sam, did you.."

"Ignore that," he stopped you, going a little red.

"Did you just call me polite? Ew!"

Sam's face was blank, he knew you were playing but a tiny part of him didn't want you to catch it. But the big part of him knew that you heard him fair and square call you pretty. Which wasn't a lie. Sam thought you were beautiful, but he didn't want you to know that. He didn't want to jeopardize whatever this was in case you didn't feel the same. 

"Earth to Winchester, hello?" You waved your hand in front of his face, and he shook his head.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Thought I'd lost ya there. For the record, I appreciate the compliment, and I do think you're quite the handsome man yourself."

You leaned up to peck his cheek, something you had done before, but this time it felt different. Maybe those feelings you had about this night weren't misplaced, or wrong. Maybe there was something more than friendship between you. 

"Sam, listen, I-"

Sam, in fact, didn't listen. He kissed you instead. It was quick, but felt like it lasted a lifetime. He pulled back, scanning your face for any sign of something bad. To his surprise and relief, nothing.

"Wow, I never thought you would be stupid enough to try that, Winchester," you spoke lowly, a joking tone backing your words.

"Yeah, well, you're here with me so that makes you stupid, too."

He raised his brows and nodded, agreeing with himself as if he had just proved the biggest point on the planet. When he'd finished playing, he became a little more serious again. Almost worried, in fact.

"You don't hate me right?" he started, and you saw the anxious little boy you remembered all those years ago. "I mean, I've felt like this about you for a while. And, you know, I'd be a fool not to because you are just amazing. Inside and out, you're beautiful, and I got worried that like... you know, what if you didn't like me that way?"

You giggled, not mockingly, but in awe. He was beautiful, and it was adorable to watch him fumble for an explanation. 

"Oh, Sam, look. I thought you would have been smart enough to figure it out on your own. I've felt like we're more than friends for so long. I just didn't act in case you didn't like me like that. I think you're so handsome, and you could have anyone, I didn't think you would choose me,"

"Y/N, I would choose you over anyone."

Sam smiled down at you, his whole face lighting up with love. His eyes twinkled, and you reached up to cup his face. Stroking your thumb across his cheek, you leaned in again, and he crashed his lips into yours. Pulling you closer, Sam entangled his hands into your hair, and you were breathless. Pulling back, you both chuckled. Sam was the first to speak.

"Dean is gonna be so righteous about this, you know?"

You cocked your brow. "Oh?"

"Well, he's been asking me when we're gonna get on with this relationship because you can see, and I quote, 'see your pining from Kentucky.' You know, like he does."

"He's such an ass, but we love him."

Your drinks had since gone cold, but it didn't matter. You were safe and content, a new relationship on the horizon and no doubt fifty questions and smug remarks from the other Winchester the next day, nothing could ruin the moment. You both watched the Kansas sunset go down, and the stars come out, as you snuggled under the blanket and basked in each others presence.

"You know," Sam broke the silence. "I remember when you said you are attracted to brains over anything, but I definitely saw you checking my butt out the other day."

"Shut  up. Sam! No you did not."

"I swear!"

The night ended with you both laughing, cuddling and for the first time in forever, being truly content. This was all you wanted, and all you could ask for. Someone to act stupid with. Someone to cry with. Someone who just understands you. 

You found your someone in the most unlikely places, and that was Sam Winchester. 

Thank you for reading! <3

If you enjoy my content, you can buy me coffee here :)