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bellaireland1981 · 1 year ago

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Starting Over | 10

Summary: You come home to work to find your husband of three years in bed with your supposed best friend. It’s the wake up call you finally needed to take your two year old daughter and get the hell out of Texas. With nowhere to go you head to your big brother in San Diego. The Dagger squad takes you under their wings, and shows you what having a family means. You get a fresh start… will you find your happily ever after?

Characters: Jake “hangman” Seresin x Sister! Reader, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Seresin! Reader (Eventually), Hangman x Phoenix , Adorable OC Gracie! The Dagger squad

Word Count: 8658

Warnings: Angst, fighting, cheating husband, emotional abuse, eventual fluff, SMUT, Sweet uncle Jake, Adorable Rooster with a toddler… if I miss any please let me know. MINORS DNI

A/N: I don’t own the characters or storyline for Top Gun Maverick. All OC’s are mine. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR ANYONE TO COPY OR REPOST MY WORK TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM! DON’T STEAL! Reblogs, likes and comments ALWAYS welcomed. THANK YOU @waywardodysseys and @beyondthesefourwalls as always for reading over my work and helping me flush out ideas!!

Taglist is open! If I missed anyone who asked to be tagged, please fill out this GOOGLE FORM to be added. It’s getting to hard to keep track of asks.

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Sunday morning you slipped out of bed, pulling on one of Bradley’s t-shirts and quietly making your way down to the kitchen. You decided to treat him to a full breakfast, letting him sleep in while you cooked. You looked in cabinets, finding what you needed to make him some pancakes from scratch, then opened the fridge to find eggs and bacon to go along with the pancakes. You selected a playlist on your phone, setting it on the counter out of the way and got to work cooking.

You were flipping pancakes, swaying to the music when Bradley wandered into the kitchen a little while later. He stood in the doorway watching you with a smile on his face before making his way over to slip his arms around you from behind and burying his face in your neck.

“Morning, Sweetheart.” He said quietly, before placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, then neck, before moving to your ear and finally your lips when you turned your face towards him smiling.

“I was trying to let you sleep in.” You told him, “Did the music wake you up?”

“No, I got lonely.” He pouted, “My beautiful love wasn’t next to me when I woke up and I got sad.”

“Aw, my poor baby Roo.” You cooed playfully, setting the spatula down and turning in his arms to wrap your own around his neck, “Come here.” You pulled him down and kissed him, your fingers slipping into his hair, loving the soft feel.

“I was looking forward to no more lonely mornings now that this is your home too.” He teased, “Only to wake up to no girlfriend by my side.”

“I promise to make it up to you.” You promised, kissing him again before turning back to the pancakes, “Grab plates though, your breakfast is almost done. I wanted to spoil my boyfriend with a nice breakfast this morning.”

“Your boyfriend greatly appreciates his girlfriend making him breakfast.” He said, kissing your cheek before doing as you asked and grabbing the plates.

“How about we eat then shower together before we go tell Gracie the good news?” You suggested.

“That sounds perfect, Sweetheart.” He agreed. “Jake and I are fully committed to taking her to Disneyland as well to soften the blow that we can’t all live in one giant castle.”

“I think the two of you just want a reason to go to Disneyland and you’re using our daughter to do so.” You laughed, turning off the stove after plating the last of the pancakes. You pulled the eggs and bacon from the oven where you’d been keeping them warm and set them on the counter. Noticing Bradley had gone quiet, you turned to see him set the plates down on the table and turn towards you. Without saying a word he was across the kitchen and had you in his arms, holding you tightly, his face buried in your hair, breathing you in. You wrapped your arms around him, your hands running over his back to comfort him.

“Bradley… Baby, are you ok?” You asked quietly, turning your face to place a kiss to his chest. “Talk to me, Roo.”

“I’m more than Ok.” He whispered in your hair, taking another moment before he pulled back and smashed his lips to your own, kissing you deeply. When the need for air caused you to have to separate, he pulled back enough to rest his forehead against your own, not wanting to separate further just yet.

“Not that I’m complaining…” You said, slightly out of breath, but highly confused, “But… what’s going on in your head, Bradley?”

“You called Gracie our daughter.” He replied softly, his voice gravely from emotions and the heated kiss, “I know it’s dumb that it just now hit me because she’s been calling me Daddy and I’ve literally been saying she’s my little girl for a while now, but to hear you say she’s our daughter… Y/N… I can’t even describe the feeling that hit me. It was better than anything that I’ve ever felt… It was more incredible than the feeling I got the first time I flew in an F-18. I just… got a little overwhelmed.”

“It’s absolutely not dumb, Bradley.” You said, pulling back so you can look him in the eyes. “Anything you’re feeling at any time is never dumb. I want to know what you’re thinking and you’re feeling. I didn’t think it was possible, but I just fell even more in love with you.” You pulled him in, kissing him softly but pouring all of the love you felt into it. When you pulled away, you were both smiling widely, looking at each other with what could only be described as heart eyes. “Come eat, Baby. It’s going to get cold.”

After breakfast the two of you worked side by side to get the dishes cleared and put away then headed upstairs to take a shower…which ended up taking a lot longer than normal because neither of you could keep your hands off of each other.

Bradley left the bathroom first to get dressed while you were drying your hair and applying your lotion and running through your morning skincare routine. When you emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around you, you found him sitting on the bed, dressed in a pair of jeans and a Philly’s T-shirt looking around the room, deep in thought.

You walked over to him, stepping between his spread thighs and cupping his face to gently lift it to look up at you. You smiled softly, bending down to place a gentle kiss on his lips before straightening back up so you could look into his eyes again.

“What has you so deep in thought, my love?” You asked him, slipping your hands around to the back of his neck and lacing your fingers together. His hands came up to waist to hold you to him.

“Just thinking maybe we can look at new bedroom furniture for in here too…” He said, “While we’re out letting Gracie pick out her new room, maybe we can redecorate our space too… make it ours. And I was mentally making a list of spaces to clear out so you’ll have room in here.”

“I don’t need anything new or fancy, Bradley.” You assured him, “I just need you… and I don’t have much, so please don’t worry about clearing a lot of space.”

“Sweetheart, you may not need new or fancy but I fully intend to spoil my girl.” He informed you, pulling you down so you were sitting on his lap. “I think it’s important for us to turn this into OUR home. As for you not needing a lot of space, I haven’t forgotten our conversation yesterday on the phone. I am taking you shopping and we are not stopping until you have a full wardrobe that you are 100% happy with because you deserve nothing less than that. You’ve done such an amazing job at making sure that Gracie always has everything that she needs and you take care of everyone else all of the time… Sweetheart… please, just this once, let me take care of YOU.”

“I’m not going to win this argument am I?” You whispered, laying your head on his shoulder. “I’m not really good at letting people take care of me… but I’ll work on it. We can pick out new furniture…and go shopping for some clothes.”

“That’s my girl.” He said, turning his head to kiss your forehead, “I should warn you though, when I said just this once… that was a total lie because I plan on always taking care of you. I love you, Sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Bradley.” You replied, kissing his shoulder.

A while later you pulled into the driveway at Jake’s. Bradley parked the Bronco behind your car and the two of you made your way inside. It was already mid morning by the time you got there. Jake and Phoenix were on the couch when you walked in, Gracie running over with various cups and plates of her plastic food serving them.

“Hi Sweet Girl!” You said walking in the front door.

“Looks like you’re having a party and didn’t invite us!” Bradley said, hands on his hips, pouting playfully at Gracie.

“MOMMY! DADDY!” She exclaimed, dropping the plate of plastic food on the couch and running as fast as her legs would carry her towards him. Bradley laughed, scooping her up and tossing her into the air before hugging her tight to him and kissing her face over and over.

“I missed you my little princess!” He said between kisses. Gracie was giggling wildly at his antics. “Did you have fun with Uncle Jake and Aunty Nix?”

“I missed you too, Daddy!” she said, “We had fun! We pwayed! Unco Jakey wet me have ice cweam with spwinkos!”

“Wow, Ice cream AND sprinkles, Uncle Jakey?” You asked, playfully raising an eyebrow at him. You knew he let Gracie have treats when he watched her and you were fine with it. It was cute that Gracie thought she was getting away with something though.

“I’m the fun uncle, what can I say?” He laughed, “Did you two have a good night?”

“We had a great night.” You replied, beaming, looking at Bradley who was still holding Gracie.

“Anything in particular you’d like to share with the group?” Jake asked, winking. He clearly knew Bradley had asked and you laughed, shaking your head.

“Gracie, sweet girl,” You said, “Sit over here with Mommy and Daddy.” You moved to the love seat across from the couch, sitting down and Bradley sitting next to you with Gracie sitting in his lap.

“Gracie, do you remember when we were building with blocks and you built a big big castle so we could all live together?” Bradley asked.

“Yes!” She replied, “You wiv wif us Daddy! And Aunty Nix wiv wif us!”

You looked over at Jake and Phoenix who were both fighting smiles as you and Bradley tried to navigate this conversation. You stuck your tongue out at them when Gracie wasn’t looking causing your brother to chuckle out loud and Phoenix to playfully smack him.

“Daddy and I looked for a big enough castle for all of us, but we couldn’t find one we’d all fit in.” You said, “Would it be ok if you and Mommy move into Daddy’s house with him and we come visit Uncle Jake and Aunty Nix whenever you miss them?”

“Unco Jakey, will miss us too.” She said, her eyes looking sad. Jake could feel his own eyes start to tear up looking over at his niece.

“Come here Princess G.” He said, opening his arms. Gracie jumped down and went to her uncle, climbing into his arms. “I love having you and mommy live with me so so much. But I think that it’s important for you and mommy and daddy to live together, Princess. You won’t be far away like you were before, Ok?”

“Ok.” She said, “But you be sad here awone, Unco Jakey.”

“I won’t be alone, Princess G.” He assured her. “I’ll still come steal you and we’ll have super cool sleepovers with blanket forts and no mommies allowed!” Then he looked over at Phoenix and winked before pulling Gracie to him and whispering in her ear, “You should ask Aunty Nix to move in with me so I’m not sad.”

Gracie beamed at him, then kissed his cheek and scooted over to Phoenix, crawling into her lap. Phoenix eyed Jake suspiciously, but wrapped her arms around Gracie giving her her full attention. They’d already discussed moving in together in future terms so Jake didn’t feel bad about using his niece as leverage here.

You and Bradley watched the scene unfold before you, stealing a glance at Jake, you caught the wink he sent your way. You could guess what your daughter was about to ask Phoenix and you had to hold back the laugh at Jake’s tactics.

“Aunty Nix?” Gracie asked

“What’s up Gracie Girl?” She replied smiling

“You pwease come wiv wif Unco Jakey so he’s not sad when Mommy and me wiv wif Daddy?” She asked, giving her biggest puppy eyes to Phoenix. Jake hadn’t been wrong. You were in trouble when Gracie was a teenager batting those eyes and dimples at you both.

Phoenix looked up at Jake who was also giving her his saddest puppy eyes and pout, his dimples showing too, causing her to laugh, and fall more in love with the man. There was no way she could tell him ‘no’, or Gracie ‘no’.

“Will it make you feel better Gracie?” She asked, playing along, “If I come live with Uncle Jakey and make sure he’s not lonely?”

“Yes!” Gracie exclaimed.

“Ok, I will do that for you. I will come live with Uncle Jakey and make sure he’s not lonely at all. That way you and Mommy can go live with Daddy so HE’S not loney.”

“I wuv you Aunty Nix!” She said, hugging her tightly. Phoenix laughed, hugging her back just as tightly.

“I love you too, Gracie girl.” She replied, then whispered in her ear, “You should ask Daddy and Uncle Jakey to take you to Disneyland.”

“DADDY! UNCO JAKEY!” She yelled pulling away from Phoenix and whipping around, “We go to DISNEYWAND?”

“Well played Nat.” You laughed, “These two had already planned to offer that up had negotiations not gone well… I think we should make it a Daddy, Uncle, Gracie outting though…”

“Sweetheart…”Bradley said looking at you with a terrified look in his eyes. Glancing at Jake you saw the look in his eyes matched Bradley’s. “I mean… is that… wise?”

“You’re probably right.” You agreed. “We can send Bob to supervise.”

“Tulip!” Jake groaned, “Gracie… don’t you think it would be more fun with your whole family? We can get all of your uncles and maybe even Papa Mav and Penny to come?”

“YES!” She agreed with her uncle, who looked relieved.

“Well, now that that is settled,” You laughed, “We were thinking of furniture shopping today… letting Gracie pick out some things and apparently we’re getting new bedroom furniture too.”

“If you need her bedroom furniture we can move it…” Jake offered, but you could see he really wanted to keep a room here for Gracie. Bradley picked up on it too and smiled. He knew how much Gracie meant to Jake.

“We figured she’d need it when she’s having sleepovers here… if you’re ok keeping it.” Bradley said, “Was going to have her pick out what she’d like in case we needed to bribe her into the new room.”

“I think keeping a room for her here is a great idea.” Phoenix said, “We plan to steal her often anyway, so she’ll need a place to sleep.”

“Absolutely.” Jake agreed, smiling lovingly at Phoenix. “When is your lease up, Sweets?”

“I’ve actually just been month to month until I decided if I wanted to stay in an apartment or if I wanted to look at housing.” She replied, “So… it’s technically up in 2 weeks if I tell them I’m not renewing next month.”

“Tell them.” Jake said, “I’ll come help you pack.”

“I plan on taking my girls as soon as possible.” Bradley said. He pulled you over into his lap, holding you, “I know this week is going to be a lot…and I don’t want to add any pressure or stress to that. We have court and Gracie’s birthday. How about the following weekend we move Phoenix in here and you and Gracie in with me?”

“I think that sounds perfect.” You replied.”What do you think, Nat? Will that be enough time to get everything packed and sorted out with your apartment?”

“Plenty of time.” She smiled, “I’m Navy… I can move with 24 hours notice.”

You spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon with Bradley and Gracie at the furniture store picking out bedroom furniture and setting up delivery. As luck would have it, the sets you found that you liked were in stock so you just had to find a time that the store had a delivery truck and crew available. After leaving the furniture store you decided to stop at Bed Bath and Beyond to pick out new bedding sets and curtains to go with the furniture before grabbing lunch and heading back home for Gracie to take a late nap.

The week went decently fast. Bradley ended up spending every night with you at Jake’s, not wanting to be away from you and Gracie. Jake stayed at Phoenix’s on Monday and Tuesday night to start helping her pack but had promised to be back Wednesday night. He’d stopped into the Hard Deck Wednesday on his lunch while you were working, bringing you something to eat from In and Out Burger.

“I’m not flying this afternoon, so I decided it was a greasy burger, fries and milkshake kinda lunch day.” Jake said, bringing the food up to the bar and setting it all out for the two of you. “And it’s been awhile since I’ve had a lunch date with my baby sister.”

“Thanks Jakey.” You smiled, “You’re the best big brother in the world. I’m actually starving and this smells amazing.”

“You doing OK, Tulip?” He asked, taking the wrapper off of his burger and taking a bite.

“I’m just kinda nervous.” You replied, “I mean… logically I know that with the order of protection, him facing charges and actual jail time the odds are in my favor that the judge will actually terminate his parental rights, but a small part of me is still really scared something will happen and the judge will side with Trent.”

“Baby girl there is zero chance a judge would side with that piece of shit.” Jake assured you. “In fact, I’m confident that this hearing is just a formality to officially free Gracie from him. Lauren pretty much said as much the last time we met with her.”

“I know… It’s just really hard to trust that my world isn’t going to drop out from under me because everything is so perfect.” You confided in him. “Literally everything is going so well… I’m happy Jakey. I am in love with the most amazing man who is literally perfect. He’s stepped right into being Gracie’s daddy without any hesitation and adores her as if she were biologically his own. I’ve made friends…real friends. We have a whole ass FAMILY Jakey. This is… amazing…and yet… scary.”

“I know what you’re saying Y/N.” Jake said smiling sadly, “I hate that you have to feel this way too. I really tried to keep all the bad stuff from ever touching you, Tulip. I guess that just wasn’t realistic. Here’s the thing though… I’ve learned recently from some VERY smart individuals… It’s ok to trust the good stuff. The world won’t fall out from underneath you just because life gets good. The good stuff is what makes life worth living. Just trust that it’s all going to be OK. You’ve survived all the crap life had to throw at you…now you get the good stuff.”

“Listen to your brother, Sweetie.” Penny said gently, coming in from the office, not wanting to startle either of you. “It’s all going to work out tomorrow. Amelia and I will be over in the morning to watch Gracie again. We might take her to the park if that’s ok with you?”

“Thank you, Penny.” You smiled, “She’ll love that. She’ll be excited that Amelia is coming again, she adores her.”

“Perfect.” Penny replied, “I’m going to go take Mav some lunch, he forgot to bring anything. I’ll be back before you leave.”

“Sounds good.” You said, “Take your time.”

You and Jake finished eating your lunch then with some time left before he needed to be back at work decided to play a game of pool.

“So I know you’re moving in with Bradley and you’re in love and everything is great…” Jake said, “With everything that happened with Trent and with what we saw growing up… do you still believe in marriage and happily ever after?”

You looked up from the pool table where you were about to take your shot, trying to get a read on your brother. You couldn’t tell if he was asking because he wasn’t sure how he felt about marriage and happily ever after or if he was really talking about you and Bradley. You took a minute to think about it, lining up your shot and taking it, sinking the ball in the corner pocket before standing up to walk over to Jake.

“Short answer?” You replied, “Yes. I do. Despite what we saw from our own parents growing up and what I lived with Trent, I DO believe in marriage and happily ever after. I believe in love, Jakey. Do I believe in the fairy tale love that we see on TV and in movies? No, because that’s not real. Love is sometimes messy, it requires work from both parties. It’s give and take… it’s not always 50/50… sometimes it’s one person giving more because the other person is tapped out. What we saw from our parents growing up wasn’t love. But we did see love Jakey. That sweet adorable old couple that used to buy us milkshakes at the diner whenever we went there to escape the fighting? They were so in love with one another after over fifty years of marriage… they thought one another hung the moon. THAT’S love. Bradley had reservations for us on Saturday night at the Italian restaurant we went to on our first date but when I called having a mini breakdown because I didn’t know what to wear and was hating my wardrobe, he realized I wasn’t freaking out about clothes and that going to a fancy restaurant was the last thing I needed so he canceled and planned a perfect beach date on the fly last minute. THAT’S love.”

Jake stood for a moment taking in what you said, letting it all sink in and processing it through his head.

“And because I believe in love, I believe in marriage and if Bradley wants to marry me someday, I will absolutely marry him.” You said, “But if he’s content with us just being together as a family then that’s what we’ll do because I love him.”

“I would do anything for Nix.” Jake admitted quietly. “If someone came through the door and told me that I had to choose between flying and her… I’d choose. Every. Fucking. Time. I would hand over my wings and sign my discharge papers and walk away.”

“Jakey, that’s love.” You smiled at your brother. “But she’d never ask that of you because she loves YOU. Do you believe in marriage, Jakey?”

“Yes.” He replied, smiling as he thought of the rings he had tucked away at home. He made a mental note to make sure they were better hidden before Phoenix moved in. “Can I let you in on a secret?”

“Of course you can!” You replied, gasping, hoping this was going where you thought it was going. Jake chuckled at the excitement on your face.

“Saturday… when Bradley and I were on a top secret mission….” Jake said, “He went with me to help me pick out a ring.”

“JAKEY!” You yelled, throwing down the cue on the table and throwing yourself at your brother. He caught you easily, laughing as you hugged him tightly, and he hugged you back just as tight.

“I take it, you approve?” He asked, chuckling in your ear. Pulling away you gave him a look like he was an idiot, making him laugh again.

“Of COURSE I approve!” You said, “Nat is literally the sister I always wanted and now I get! She’s also the friend I always wished I had. But beyond that she makes YOU happy and THAT is all I could ever hope for. When are you going to ask her?”

“I’m still working on that.” He said, “You better work on your poker face, Tulip. No slipping!”

“I promise!” You said holding out your pinky to him. He laughed but linked his pinky to your own in a child-like promise. “I’m so so happy for you Jakey.”

“Thanks, Tulip.” He replied, “I told you things are going to be good for us. All good stuff from now on.”

“I just ask one thing.” You said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Anything, Tulip.” He replied.

“You’re not allowed to use my daughter to emotionally blackmail Nat into sayin ‘yes’ to marrying you.” You teased, “Moving in was one thing, marriage is totally different.” Jake threw his head back laughing.

“Tulip!” He gasped, “We’d already talked about it in general Saturday night because I knew Bradley was going to be asking you to move in with him… I just hadn’t made an official ask yet. I swear I wouldn’t ever use Princess G to manipulate anyone!”

“I know.” You laughed, “I just wanted to give you a hard time. Although now that I think about it… there could be some cute proposal opportunities using her as your little wingman… wing..girl?”

“I’ll let you know if I need to borrow my niece.” He laughed. “For now though, I need to get back to base. I’ll see you after work. Do you need me to get Princess G from daycare or are you good?”

“I’m good. I’ll be out of here at a decent time today. I’m thinking about ordering pizzas for dinner though, that OK, I know we just had junk for lunch?” You asked.

“Of course.” He replied, “Tonight is a no pressure, relax and breathe easy night. Tomorrow night, we will celebrate at home, low key. Friday we’ll be over at Mav and Penny’s house getting things set up for Saturday.”

“Ok.” You smiled, “All planned out.”

“Yup!” He said,giving you a hug. “Don’t work too hard, I love you, Tulip.”

“Love you too, Jakey” You replied, “Be safe doing whatever you’re doing this afternoon.”

“Just instructing.” He laughed, “I’ll be on the ground while they’re doing simulations.”

“Perfect.” You beamed. “Tell my future sister in law I said ‘hi’”

“Will do.” He laughed.

The rest of the day went fast. Penny made it back just in time for you to head to pick up Gracie. Bradley called as you were getting in your car to let you know he was done for the day.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He said, “I’m leaving base now, are you still at work?”

“I’m just leaving now to go get Gracie.” You replied, starting the car.

“I’m going to run by the house to grab clean clothes and a shower then I’ll be over.” He said, “Do you need me to stop to pick anything up?”

“Nope, we’re ordering pizzas tonight for dinner.” You said, “Unless you want something else…”

“Pizza is perfect, Baby.” He replied, you could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“Love you too. Drive safe.” You replied.

“You too. You’re both precious cargo!” He said.

After picking up Gracie from daycare and getting home, you got her a snack while you pulled out stuff to throw together a quick dump cake. You didn’t feel like cooking dinner but you were never too tired to make a dessert. You knew both Bradley and Jake loved the caramel apple dump cake you made for several of the dinner nights and it was really quick and easy so you didn’t mind.

“Gracie, do you wanna help Mommy make a cake for Daddy and Uncle Jakey?” You asked her. Your daughter loved to help in the kitchen and you loved the quality time with her.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, happy to help bake, especially for her two favorite people.

“Hop on over here my sweet girl!” You said, smiling, pulling up the step stool you sometimes used to reach stuff on the top shelves. You definitely did not inherit any of the height genes in your family. Jake got all of those. You helped your daughter carefully climb up on the step so she could reach the counter better and the two of you set to work dumping ingredients into the glass cake pan. You had just finished and were putting the pan into the oven when the front door opened.

“Honey, we’re home!” Jake called. You could hear Bradley laughing as he came in behind him. “Where are our girls?”

“Unco JAKEY!” Gracie yelled, jumping down from the step stool and tearing off towards the living room. “DADDY!”

“There’s my Princess G!” Jake said, picking her up. “How’s my best girl?”

“I good!” She replied, kissing him on his cheek, “Unco Jakey, you pway wif me?”

“I will absolutely play with you, Baby girl.” He said, “Let me change quickly first, ok?”

“OK!” She replied, reaching over to Bradley, “Gimme Daddy!” Jake laughed, passing her over to Bradley before heading to his room to shower and change out of his uniform.

“Hi Princess.” Bradley said, taking her from Jake and hugging her close, “I missed you so much today. Did you have a good day?”

“I missed you too Daddy.” She replied, “I pwayed wif my fwends today and den Mommy bwinged me home and we maked you and Unco Jakey a cake!”

“You did?” He asked, “Thank you, my Gracie girl! I can’t wait to eat the cake. I’m sure it’s the best cake ever.”

“I wuv you Daddy!” She said, grabbing his face and giving him a very big kiss. “We go wiv at your house now?”

“I love you too, Princess,” He chuckled, “We have to wait just a little bit longer. We have to make sure your brand new room is ready first.”

“Ok, Daddy.” She sighed, “You stay wif me and Mommy?”

“Of course, Princess.” He promised, “I’ll stay right here with you and Mommy, Ok?”

“Ok!” She said.

“Someone is turning into quite the Daddy’s girl.” You smiled, coming into the living room.

“Are you a Daddy’s girl, Gracie?” Bradley asked her, tickling her tummy as he held her. “I think you’re Momma’s little angel.”

“I am Mommy’s and Daddy’s pwincess!” She declared.

“Yes you are.” You laughed.

The night is relaxed. Jake and Bradley do their best to keep your mind off the hearing coming up the next day. Jake ordered pizzas to be delivered before he left base so they arrived not long after they’d gotten home. Once dinner was finished the three of you had taken Gracie out to the backyard to let her run around and run off some energy.

“I think you’re going to need to find that castle playsets to put in your backyard Rooster.” Jake said, “Princess G is going to need swings and stuff to play on.”

“I’ve been looking at some actually.” Bradley said, pulling his phone out to show Jake the playsets. You just laughed, shaking your head. You’ve given up trying to reign these two fools in anymore.

After a while you took Gracie in to wash her hands and let her help you dish up the cake the two of you had made and then you carried it out to the back so you could all eat dessert outside. The guys made sure to praise her (and you) for how delicious it was and how much they loved it. Gracie was over the moon that her two favorite people loved the cake so much.

By the time bedtime rolled around, Gracie was worn out. She requested that Uncle Jakey tuck her in and read her bedtime book, which he was more than happy to do.

“Want a glass of wine or a beer, Sweetheart?” Bradley asked, heading to the kitchen.

“Wine please.” You said, sinking down onto the couch.

He returned a minute later with a bottle of beer for himself and a glass of wine for you. Handing you the wine, he sat down, before pulling you into his side, wrapping his free arm around you. You rested your head against his shoulder and took a sip of your wine.

“I can hear your thoughts from up here, Sweetheart.” He teased, gently. “You’re supposed to be relaxing.”

“I am relaxed” You argued, looking up at him and sticking your tongue out. “I just… happen to also be thinking.”

“About tomorrow? Or non-stressful stuff?” He asked, kissing the top of your head.

“Both.” You replied honestly. “I’m mentally preparing myself for tomorrow and thinking ahead for the good stuff.”

“I can accept that.” He replied, “Let’s sort through the thoughts on tomorrow first. What are you thinking?”

“I just keep worrying something will go wrong, so I’m preparing myself in case we don’t get the outcome we want.” You admitted.

“That’s fair.” He said, “Considering everything you’ve gone through up to this point, Sweetheart, I can absolutely understand why you’re planning for the worst. It breaks my heart that it’s your default and I am making it my mission from now until forever to change your default to only expect the best that life has to offer.”

“I love you.” You whispered, turning your head into his chest. “I WANT forever with you Bradley Bradshaw.”

“I love you too, Baby Girl.” He said, setting his beer on the coffee table and using his now free hand to tip your chin up to face him, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“Alright, no making out in front of me.” Jake whined, coming into the living room. “Don’t make me separate you two.”

“Way to ruin a moment, Seresin.” Bradley said, glaring playfully at Jake.

“Sorry, not sorry.” He winked, plopping himself down on the other end of the couch. “What are we watching tonight? RomCom? Action? Comedy?”

“What’ll it be, Sweetheart?” Bradley asks.

“Sweet Home Alabama” You picked immediately, causing both men to groan. “It’s GOOD!”

“Sure…” Jake said, grabbing the remote from the coffee table and turning on the TV.

You spent the next couple of hours snuggled into Bradley watching your favorite RomCom. You started to drift off towards the end, relaxed and comfortable in Bradley’s embrace.

“Come on, Sweetheart.” He said softly, “You’re falling asleep, let’s get you to bed.”

“Goodnight Tulip.” Jake said, “Get some sleep, tomorrow’s gonna be a great day.”

“Night Jakey.” You replied, letting Bradley pull you up from the couch, “I hope you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” He winked.

The next morning, Jake took care of getting Gracie breakfast and getting her dressed while you got ready and Bradley kept you calm and together. Penny and Amelia arrived with coffee and pastries from the bakery down the road from her house. Once she was there to wrangle Gracie, Jake headed into his room to get ready.

“It’s going to be OK, Sweetheart.” Bradley reminded you before you headed down out to the kitchen, “No matter what happens today, you’ve got me, Baby. Gracie is not Trent’s. She calls me Daddy. She’s ours. I don’t care what the judge says. But they’re going to agree with us.”

“I love you.” You said, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your head on his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out.” He promised, dropping a kiss onto your head and wrapping his own arms around you. “I love you too, Sweetheart.”

You arrived at the courthouse and made your way through security. Lauren was waiting on the other side to meet with you again prior to going into the hearing. “Good Morning!” She said, smiling, “Let’s head into the conference room and we can go over what to expect today.”

She led the three of you to the conference room across from the courtroom you’d be in for the hearing.

“Has there been any new developments in that asshole’s case?” Jake asked, sitting down on one side of you at the table, Bradley sitting on the other.

“Actually, I have some pretty good news to share with you all” She replied, “I just got an update when I arrived this morning and then his lawyer requested to meet with me first thing.”

“I’m afraid to ask what he wants.” You said quietly, unwilling to get your hopes up or believe the good news would indeed be the news you were hoping for.

“I understand, given the history, that you’re apprehensive with anything coming from him.” Lauren said, smiling gently, “But, Y/N, I promise you, this is all good.”

“Lay it on us.” Bradley said, squeezing your hand in support, and offering you a smile.

“Alright, well first of all, given the fact that he did violate the order twice and got violent the second time, chances of leniency from the judge will be slim to none. His lawyer knows that and I am sure made him aware of that. Trent is looking at jail time regardless.” Lauren said, “The amount of time is what’s up in the air. His lawyer advised him to work with you and give you what you’d originally asked for ahead of the next hearing date and that it’ll help his image in court. It might go a little ways with that judge, I assure you, it won’t be enough to get him out of serving time. I wasn’t going to point that out to his lawyer though.”

“So… is he going to do it?” Jake asked, “Did the piece of shit finally agree to sign off all rights to Gracie?”

“He did.” She smiled, “I have the signed papers here, saying he’s willingly signing over full custody to you, Y/N. He doesn't want visitation rights.”

“Ok, so I have full custody.” You said, “But he’s still listed as the father on Gracie’s birth certificate. Can the judge change that today?”

“We will still ask for that here today.” She assured you. “With him willingly signing over custody and not wanting visitation, we can certainly take it one step forward and ask that all parental rights to Gracie be removed. In the event that something were to happen to you, he’d have zero claim to her.”

“I want that. I can’t let him get her.” You said, “If something happens to me, he cannot have her.”

“He won’t, Sweetheart.” Bradley promised, leaning over to kiss your head, “None of us will let that happen.”

“I can promise you that, Tulip.” Jake said, “He’d have to pry her from my dead cold fingers, and even then there’d be a whole squad of naval aviators right behind me in line to protect her.”

“And in addition to her many bodyguards,” Lauren said, “If the judge for whatever reason, does not remove him from the birth certificate or revoke parental rights, you can create a Will and specify who will become guardian to Gracie in the event that something happens to you. Regardless of what happens here today, I highly recommend you do that anyway.”

“Ok” You said, “Thank you. For everything. I will never be able to adequately put into words how grateful I am to you for everything you’ve done.”

“Y/N, I am more than happy to have been able to help you.” She replied, “I was lucky enough to have had someone there and able to help me when I was in your shoes and now it’s my turn to do the same. Seeing you get to move on and live the life you deserve and see Gracie get the family she deserves… the Daddy she deserves.. And has found Bradley… that’s payment enough.”

“Well, after all this you’re officially a part of our chaotic family, so we’d love it if you'd join us Saturday for Gracie’s 3rd birthday party.” Jake said, “We…may have gone a little overboard on it.”

“We?” You laughed, “I’ve been doing all I can do to reign you idiots in. But absolutely, we would love for you to join us. I can definitely promise it’ll be a zoo…. And depending on how much these two have been planning when I’ve not been around… the zoo might be literal.”

“I would be honored to come celebrate your sweet little girl turning 3.” She replied, “I look forward to seeing what these two have planned.”

“You might not say that when you see what they’re capable of.” You replied, laughing.

“Alright, let’s go ahead and head into the courtroom.” Lauren said, “It’ll be a closed room because it’s for a minor.”

You filed out, following Lauren across the hall to the courtroom. Before entering you saw a familiar face heading towards you down the hall in service khakis. You smiled, nudging Jake.

“Looks like someone snuck away from base.” You said.

“Sweets, what are you doin’ here?” Jake asked, a huge smile spreading across his face at the sight of Phoenix walking towards you all.

“Wasn’t going to miss this for the world.” She replied, pulling him into a hug when she got to him. “Figured you could all use the extra support, so I got Admiral Simpson to give me the morning off. Mav’s covering for me.”

“I love you, Nat.” Jake said,hugging her back. “Thank you for being here.”

“Love you too, Jake.” She replied, “Let’s go free Princess G.”

“Thank you, Nat.” You said, hugging her before you all went inside. “You’re the best.”

“You’re the first female best friend I’ve literally ever had, Y/N.” She chuckled, “My sister from another mister.”

You all made your way inside the courtroom and took a seat at the front. You sat with Lauren on one side. Trent’s lawyer appeared for him, sitting on the other side of the room.

Once the judge entered and took his place, he quickly reviewed the files in front of him, including the additions placed in the file that morning.

“Ms. Kennedy, have you had time to review the new proposals submitted this morning from opposing counsel?” The judge asked.

“I have your honor.” She replied, “Ms. Seresin accepts the offer of full custody and zero visitation stipulation offered from her ex-husband. Your honor we also are requesting that Trent’s parental rights be completely repealed and his name be removed from the minor child’s birth certificate.”

“Ms. Seresin, is there a reason you are asking for her father to essentially be expunged from your daughter’s history?” The judge asked, directing his question to you.

You looked at Lauren who nodded encouragingly at you, before looking back at Bradley who gave you a soft smile. Taking a deep breath you stood up and addressed the judge.

“Your honor, with all due respect, Trent may have contributed the DNA needed to create Gracie that was where his contribution ended, Sir.” You said, “He has never, in her entire life, shown any interest in being her father, apart from when she could be used as a pawn to control me. He wasn’t there when I gave birth to her, You Honor. He hasn’t been there any time she’s been sick or had a bad dream, said her first words, or took her first steps. She hasn’t asked about him one time since we left Texas, nor has she ever called him Daddy.” You paused, taking a steadying breath, looking back at your brother and Bradley again. “But, my daughter Gracie does have a Daddy. One that she loves very much, Sir. He may not have given her his DNA, but he gives her his love, he shows up, he loves her unconditionally and has done so since the first day he met her. He’s the one she calls Daddy and who she thinks hung the moon.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying, Ms. Seresin.” The judge answered, “Given what I’ve seen in the files here and from conversations I’ve had with Judge Edwards prior to today, I understand where you’re coming from. Strictly looking at the facts on the paper, Ms. Seresin from the two violations of the protection order already, the second being your ex husband attempting to forcefully remove you and the minor child from your residence, it is of my opinion that it is in fact in the best interest of the child to terminate paternal parental rights and in doing so I will grant your request to have his name removed from the birth certificate. You will, however, need to file that with the county in which she was born, which is in Texas if I am not mistaken.”

“You are correct, Your Honor,” You answered, choking on emotions, “Thank you, Sir.”

“I’m assuming the man your daughter has claimed for her dad is here today?” He asked.

“Yes, Your Honor.” You replied, glancing back at Bradley, smiling through your tears. You noticed, he was wiping his own away from his eyes, smiling right back at you.

“I trust that you understand what an absolute honor it is that this little girl has chosen you to be her person?” The judge asked Bradley. “That her mother is putting her faith in you to be the father her little girl deserves?”

“I do, Your Honor.” He replied, “It’s not something I take lightly, Sir. I’d do anything, give anything to ensure both of them are taken care of, loved, and happy.”

“Will I be seeing you back in here at some point down the line to make your father title official?” The judge asked, smiling for the first time at both you and Bradley.

“I would love nothing more, Sir.” He replied, “But official paper or not, Gracie is my daughter.”

“Good to hear.” He replied, “Alright, Counselor, you can tell your client all parental rights are hereby stripped, effective immediately. Ms. Seresin, I know it’s been a long and rough road for you and that little girl. Once you walk out those doors today, it’s all in the past. Focus on the future and the life you’ve already started on building for you and Miss Gracie.”

“Thank You, Sir.” You replied, choking back a sob. It felt like the entire weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders. For the first time in a long time you could truly breathe. It was over. You had been freed from the nightmare, and now your daughter was too.

“Congratulations, Y/N.” Lauren said, pulling you into a hug, “It’s all over, Sweetie. You did it. Let’s get you all out of here and across to the conference room so you have some privacy.”

She ushered the four of you across the hall, back to the same conference room you’d been in prior to the hearing.

“I’m going to take care of filing these right now to give you all some time.” She said, “I’ll be back in a bit and we can go over the process to get her birth certificate changed.” She left the room, softly closing the door behind her.

“You did it, Tulip!” Jake said, pulling you into him and hugging you tightly, “You got our Princess G freed from that dickhead! I am so fucking proud of you, Y/N.”

You let him hold you, hugging him back just as tight. All of the lingering stress and anxiety from the last few months seemed to leave you at that moment, an intense feeling of pure relief washing over you.

“He can’t touch us anymore, Jakey.” You whispered, “We’re free.”

“You are.” He confirmed, “You’re so so strong, Tulip. You went in there and didn’t give that judge a chance to even think about deciding anything else. You are one hell of a momma bear. Princess G is so damn lucky to have you for her Momma.”

“He’s right, Y/N.” Phoenix agreed, “You were so fierce and strong this whole time. You’re so much braver than anyone I know… and I fly with some crazy ass people.”

You laughed, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Come here, Sweetheart.” Bradley said, his voice rough from the emotions he was fighting back. Jake released you, stepping back to place his arm around Phoenix while you stepped into Bradley’s outstretched arms. He simply held you tight for several moments, just needing to have you close and feel you in his arms. You needed the same so you were content to just let him hold you. “I love you so much, Baby. I can’t even put into words how proud I am of you for standing your ground in there today and not only speaking up about exactly what a useless piece of trash Trent is but for what you told the judge about me… and being Gracie’s real dad. I meant what I said to the judge too… I would absolutely make it official at any point, but papers or no papers, she’ll always be my little girl. I plan to keep showing up, and loving her, and her mom, if that works for you?”

“That works for me.” You replied, smiling through your tears, “I love you too, Bradley… more than I ever thought I was capable of. I don’t know how Gracie and I got so lucky but, no take backs. You're ours now.”

“Strict no return policy, so you’re good.” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“Alright!” Jake exclaimed, “Celebratory dinner tonight. Just us, then we can celebrate with the whole group tomorrow while we set up for the party on Saturday.”

“Sounds amazing.” You said.

“Ok, I’ve filed the paperwork with the clerk.” Lauren said, coming back into the room. “Next steps, Y/N you will need to take copies of all of these to the courthouse in the county where Gracie was born and file to change her birth certificate and name. Once that is complete a new social security card can be issued with her new name. It can take weeks up to several months depending on their backlog.”

“Is it something that can be done through the mail?” Jake asked, knowing you weren’t crazy about going back to Texas.

“Unfortunately, no.” She said, “It’ll be a good opportunity to go through the house and get anything out that you wanted and close out any bank accounts while you’re there though. Use it as the closure that it is, Y/N. Afterwards you don’t ever have to step foot in Texas again.”

“You won’t be going alone, Tulip.” Jake promised.

“Damn straight you won’t.” Bradley agreed.

“I feel as though it’s safe to say that you’ll never be without a strong support system again, Y/N” Laurent smiled.

After thanking her again and giving her all the information for Gracie’s party on Saturday you all said your goodbyes and headed out of the courthouse.

“I’ll see you all at the house tonight.” Phoenix said, once you were all outside. “I have to head back to base.Y/N, I’m so happy for you and Gracie. I love you both so much.” She stepped over to you, pulling you into a hug.

“Thank you so much for being here, Nat.” You said, hugging her back. “I love you too!”

“I’ll walk with you to your car, Sweets.” Jake said, “I’ll be right back.”

Jake walked with Phoenix over to her car while you and Bradley made your way to the Bronco. Before getting in, he pulled you into his arms, his head dipping down to claim your lips in a tender kiss.

“I love you.” He said, pulling away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I love you too.” You replied, smiling. “Looks like we have a lot to celebrate this weekend.”

“So much to celebrate, Sweetheart.” He agreed. “And we’re just getting started.”

A/N: Phew! Thoughts?? Up next.... BIRTHDAY PARTY!!!!

Taglist:

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@friendly-neighborhood-peter

@oneelleandaneye

@super-btstrash-posts

@mygyn

@emma8895eb

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@scrollsofkelio

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #Miles Teller #top gun fanfiction #big brother Jake Seresin #Jake hangman seresin x Natasha phoenix trace

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musei-thoughts · 2 years ago

Text

𝘏𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘐𝘐.

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘝𝘰𝘹 𝘈𝘬𝘶𝘮𝘢 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1007𝘸.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘪 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳.

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘯, 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 🙂🔪

𝙖/𝙣: 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘧𝘳😔

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙨: 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦.

Balloons and streamers cover the ceiling as people cheered.

"HAPPY 1 MILLION KINDRED!!!"

Vox watched with contentment while people—HIS people—celebrated its 1 millionth member. In the span of 8 months, he regained what he lost.

What he and his beloved had lost.

Their family.

"If only you were here, my love..."

After the celebration, Vox steps out of the venue to get some fresh air. As he walks on the sidewalk, he couldn't help but wonder...

What now?

He thought that he could fill the emptiness in his heart by finding and reviving his clan. Don't get him wrong, he's contented with what he has and the people that loves him but there's still this itching feeling of longing in his chest that he couldn't get rid of.

A type of longing that for 400 years of searching, he couldn't fulfill.

But alas, this was not a predicament he hasn't been in before. Vox had felt this feeling and questioned it quite often in the past but he eventually finds a distraction that leaves those questions unanswered.

What's the point though? He already has the people and things that he needs and wants, what more could he ask for?

He wants to be satisfied, and that's what he plans on doing.

As he crossed the street, he catches a glimpse of a really pretty woman.

You.

Scratch that, you were beautiful.

So beautiful that he stopped in his tracks to admire you as you crossed the street.

Was this all that's missing? A woma-

"HEY YOU WEIRDO GET OUT OF THE WAY!! ARE YOU TRYING TO GET YOURSELF ISEKAI'D?!" a truck driver yelled at him from his vehicle, beeping his horn at him aggressively.

Vox snaps out of his thoughts and got out of the way. He looks back to where you once stood and saw that you were gone.

'Damn it.'

"Vox! What happened back there?! Were you trying to get killed?!" Onigiri pants as he approaches the said male. "I told you to be more aware of your surroundings and don't get so lost in your thoughts! Are you even listening to me?"

Vox just stood there, staring at the other side of the crosswalk with a bit of wonder in his eyes.

"Let's get you home, Vox."

Days passed.

And you're still in his mind. He thought he could easily forget about seeing you but it seems that he can't stop thinking of you.

From all the women of women that he finds 'pretty', there are only a few selection of women in his life that he found... beautiful.

So.

What was it about you that made him think that you're beautiful?

He tries to remember what you looked like. You had luscious h/c hair, sparkling e/c eyes, and a really captivating smile.

....so that's why he finds you so beautiful.

You looked exactly like his wife.

He doesn't want to stop thinking about you, the woman who he saw on that crosswalk. You were the same but different at the same time. As if you were the reincarnation of his deceased wife.

Now he sits in his room questions rising in his head. Leaning on his chair, he stares at the ceiling, "What should I do, Y/n?" he mumbles his wife's name, shutting his eyes frustration. He just wants to be at peace. He doesn't want to think anymore. He doesn't want to hurt anymore.

He did everything to move on.

But did he really?

"I guess not." He chuckles.

She was too important to him to even forget.

His shoulders slumped helplessly, not knowing what to do. 'Just come back to me...' If only it was easy, he would've had her in his arms. You don't know what this man would do for you. He'd jump in a volcano just for you, embarrass himself just to make you laugh, and sacrifice giving you baba for the night to cuddle with when he couldn't be there with you.

He'd take such good care of you.

Now he stands in the same place where he last saw you and waited. If you appeared, maybe you were the answer to his dilemma. If you didn't, then he'd get help. All he needs to do is stand there for five minutes and then he'll go.

Five.

Kids happily cross the road as they walk home for the day.

Four

Couples pass, arms linked with each other as they cross with such contentment in their eyes.

Three

The light turned green and vehicles began to move.

Two

Cars and trucks passed, leaving a cloud of dust behind.

One

All the cars stop as the stoplight turns red once again.

"...and zero." Vox sighs, a tinge of disappointment laced his voice. He turns to leave and get back to his life. Maybe this is just another one of those moments that just had to happen and pass.

"Well, I guess that's that."

With a heavy heart, Vox walked home.

Vox had scheduled an appointment with a therapist for next week. When you didn't appear the other day, he was pretty convinced that the past was still haunting him and he's been feeling down since then.

The tall male entered the café, his gold eyes fixated downwards, "Welcome in! What can I get you today?" Vox mindlessly orders, paying no attention to the things around him. For the past few days, the kindred took notice of his sullen mood and advised him to go to this café in hopes of making him feel better.

So, here he is.

Vox stood there waiting for his food, looking around the place while he did. A hand comes into his view, handing him his drink, "Two shots of espresso and a lemon cake for a-" He grabs the drink from the barista's hand before she could finish her sentence, "-Vox Akuma?" For once in all those days of looking down and getting lost in his thoughts, Vox lifts his eyes to the sound of a really, really familiar voice.

There you were in all of your glory,

"Y/n...?

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘰…𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 3?

← 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 │ 𝘕𝘦𝘹𝘵 →

← 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 │ 𝘕𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 →

#vox x reader #vox akuma x reader #vox akuma #luca kaneshiro #shu yamino #ike eveland #mysta rias #luxiem #luxiem x reader #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en x reader #nijisanji en #angst #luxiem angst #nijisanji en angst #shu x reader #shu yamino x reader

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underratedandoverit · 1 year ago

Text

In The Dark

~1,4k words orangekip (orange cassidy/kip sabian)

fluffy idiots on stream. thats just about it. like no really theres not much else to this. theres shenanigans and they make out, the end :)

on ao3

@midnightpretenders0 @stormbornpirate @ss-trashboat

---------------------------

Making himself comfortable in his boyfriend’s lap, Kip’s eyes scanned the stream chat welcoming him aboard. Beaming at the screen he waved at the people, finally stealing a glance towards Cassidy over his shoulder; the blond didn’t look even nearly as enthusiastic as he did, obviously having wanted a much calmer stream tonight than what this was going to evolve into now that Kip was involved, mostly against Cassidy’s will.

“So, uh, I guess Kip is joining us for a while,” he finally shrugged, Kip just chuckling at him as he refused to pull himself his own chair, just choosing to continue to sit in Cassidy’s lap. The blond clearly didn’t mind, lowering his chin on his shoulder and arms wrapping around Kip’s waist, pulling him closer, to a bit more comfortable position. The chat was going much faster than what Kip was used to, people watching clearly both surprised and delighted by his rare appearance on screen in this stream.

“What do you wanna watch tonight?” Kip asked as he took a hold of the mouse, starting to scroll through YouTube’s recommended selection on Cassidy’s account. The blond just shrugged again. “Whatever sounds good. You choose.”

Kip nodded, scrolling for a while, every now and then glancing over at chat to spot a random suggestion here and there. Eventually he pulled up a music video as Cassidy pointed it out to him as it looked interesting enough, filling the dead air with some music. It wasn’t really Kip’s kind of scene, but as long as he could feel the content energy radiating from Cassidy, he was good to go with whatever.

Although, it didn’t take long for Kip to get bored of this. He was so used to streams where he could focus on what was going on on the screen, playing a game, participating in something other than just watching. He tried interacting with the chat, but oftentimes he would get too distracted with other messages to really fully get any of his talking points through, making him grow slightly more frustrated each time. Kip tried his best to mask it though, he was a guest here, on this stream, and he needed to act like it.

Well… Unless…

With Cassidy focusing on having a talk with the chat while browsing through to find more videos to watch, Kip reached his leg further under the table, carefully wrapping it around the cord that he believed to be the microphone sitting on the table. Kip glanced at Cassidy over his shoulder again, gathering the blond’s attention with ease. Even from behind the sunglasses Kip recognized the questioning look he was receiving back.

“I’m going to go get some snacks. You want anything?”

Cassidy just shook his head, Kip pushing up on his feet, making sure to tug his leg as hard as he possibly could for as much chaos as he needed in the moment. He could feel the cord tightening around his foot, tumbling the microphone down on the table, by the sound also unplugging it from the computer.

“Jesus Kip, what did you do?” Cassidy asked as he registered the sudden commotion, eyes glancing at chat that was almost immediately yelling at him that they were muted. Kip looked at him, then the fallen microphone that was still barely on the table, before he leaned down to check under the desk, trying to hide his little smirk to cover his tracks. “You’re a hazard to have around sometimes.”

Kip just shrugged a little, letting out a quiet murmur of acknowledgement as a response as he reached for the computer cables after untangling the one from his foot, playing a little guessing game at which one he should unplug next to get rid of the camera. He could hear Cassidy typing, probably apologizing to chat for the technical difficulties, but the silent curse he let out as Kip pulled off another cord was a clear indicator that he did something right.

“What are you doing down there?” Cassidy asked with a long sigh, pushing the chair away from the desk before leaning down to check on Kip’s antics under it, only for the Brit to catch him off guard as his hands landed on Cassidy’s face, pulling him into a kiss. Cassidy didn’t resist, honestly based on the quiet hum he got back Kip was deducing that he quite enjoyed it despite the situation, the blond’s hand finding its way to the back of Kip’s head, pulling him away from under the table as Cassidy straightened himself on his chair.

Kip broke the kiss apart only after he was back on Cassidy’s lap in the chair, face to face straddling him this time, quickly glancing over his shoulder at the computer screen. It was still on, the chat was still going, freaking out as they couldn’t see or hear anything. Kip had managed to do what he intended to, cutting them off from the live feed for a hot second to have a private moment with his boyfriend.

“You could have just said you were bored.” Kip looked back at him, Cassidy still being rather unamused by his antics, though he clearly wasn’t going to push the Brit away either now that they were here. “We could have just stopped streaming.”

“I don’t know, I think this is more entertaining,” Kip smirked at him, lifting his hands up to Cassidy’s face, removing his sunglasses, carefully lowering them on the computer desk behind him. “Give the people something to talk about. I mean, they aren’t seeing any of this, I don’t need to get you in trouble with Twitch, but, you know. They have their imaginations.”

For the first time since Kip had started these shenanigans, he could see a smile tucking the corner of Cassidy’s lips. “Oh, get me in trouble? Why would that happen?”

Kip chuckled, leaning closer to press a little peck on Cassidy’s lips, arms wrapping around his neck. He could feel the fingertips on his thighs, tapping against them a little, clearly the last song they listened to still playing in the blond’s head.

“Cause I wanted to make out with you until you turn goddamn stupid. I think that would be considered too adult for the platform.”

Kip’s hand played with his hair, the other leaving ghostly fingerprints against his neck. Cassidy just smiled at him, hands moving up his thighs, starting to gently tuck on the hem of Kip’s hoodie.

“Yeah?” Cassidy asked, Kip nodding his head, finally feeling Cassidy lifting up the hem of his hoodie, Kip glancing down to it, seeing what the blond was clearly indicating he wanted. “More adult than you half naked in my lap?”

Kip just smirked, retreating his hands to himself as he reached over the back of his head, complying with the wordless request as he pulled the hoodie off, haphazardly throwing it onto the desk. Cassidy took in the sight for a moment, Kip trying to hold back on letting his pride show at how much he enjoyed being perceived by his boyfriend like this. Some might have described Cassidy’s stare too intense, but to Kip being looked up and down and all over like this felt more like a prize than anything else. A praise for a task well done.

“I think I could get in more trouble than that,” Cassidy finally stated, arms around Kip’s waist pulling him closer, steadily against Cassidy’s chest. The first flash of blush was finally on the Brit’s cheeks, Cassidy chose to not pay attention to it, as cute as he found it. Kip cupped his cheeks, pressing his lips against Cassidy’s again, but not for long enough for the heat to settle in yet.

“More trouble?” Kip asked with a soft smirk as they parted, Cassidy nodding his head. Kip could feel a hand sliding up his back, already knowing what was coming as he regretted asking the question as a hand slid into his hair with ease, balling a few coils into Cassidy’s fist, giving it a gentle tuck. Biting his lip, Kip let out a soft whine, hearing Cassidy chuckle as Kip’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Oh yeah. We would be in so much more trouble,” he hummed, gently pushing Kip’s face towards his with the hand on the back of his head, finally locking their lips together, deepening the kiss as Kip moaned surprisingly loud against it as Cassidy tucked on his hair a second time.

#fic #character: kip sabian #character: orange cassidy #ship: orangekip #aew fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction

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lunaetis · 2 years ago

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@crimsontroupe asked :

"Hey."

It's not unusual for Rannulfr to appear unannounced, and leave just as abruptly. For the last few days, he has spent his time and resources tracking down his most valuable associate. Not for any work-related matter, and not for pleasure. Well, perhaps some kind of selfish pleasure. That devious grin on his face as his head pops into vision around the corner of a building is unmistakable.

"Hard to find you, girl. But I did not expect it any differently. If you gave me an easy time, then I would say you are going soft." His eyes squint to the point that it is almost impossible to see if they are still open. That deep green stares deep at her, fond and mischievous. "I was wondering what you would like for your birthday. You are a woman who enjoys your luxuries, Yelan.

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized you'd frown at me if I got you something fancy and grandiose. Instead, I decided to go with something more simple." As if on cue, he cuts the distance between the two of them. Raises his left hand and ever-so-gently (more gentle than he usually is, that is for sure) places a flower on her hair, gently tucked behind her ear.

"I was watching the city, wondering when you would be back. As I said, it is hard to track you when you do not want to be tracked. But I have good eyes, and a lot of patience. Setting up camp is easy. I could go around gathering those, but I feel like it would lose its meaning." The expression softens, and Ran's smile seems just a bit gentler. With his thumb he gently caresses one of the petals of the glaze lily he harvested for her. "Somewhere high up where I could find you. Very convenient, is it not? I do not doubt you know exactly where I was perched, waiting for this opportunity." He lowers his head a bit, brushing his lips against hers. "Well, happy birthday. I plan to spend the day with you, so you better be prepared. Until the moon disappears welcoming the sun, I shall listen to your every request.

That is not something you can easily get. You know this well. I am willing to make an exception for you. Just today, hm?" Ran winks right after, filling the air with laughter. Of course it was not just for today. "I want to celebrate your existence, Yelan."

happy birthday yelan ! ( 20.04.2023 ) || always accepting

─「夜兰」─ the INFORMANT was hanging around her secret sanctuary. the highest point of liyue, the qingyun peak. more especially, she was seated upon the dwelling in the clouds, the FLOATING ISLAND that allowed her to look down to the vast clouds and scenery of liyue as a whole. it was a place where yelan found herself coming back to whenever she needed some time for herself, whether to think, to escape, or to relax. no one knew of this place other than selected few, that was why she liked to be here, away from people, away from the eyes of others.

so it was a pleasant surprise for her to hear a familiar voice coming from behind her. gaze of AQUAMARINE turned to meet with deep emerald. if it were anyone else, she would have told them off or even lunged an attack over them intruding her privacy. " hey you. " he was, however, an exception. she was quite impressed by the fact that he managed to find her here. no one had ever been able to track her down if she didn't want to be found. but if there would be anyone who could find her out of all places in liyue and beyond, she seemed to not mind it being him.

" i'm impressed that you manage to find me. " there was a hint of amusement in her voice, as she turned from the scenery to face him. it made her wonder how many days had he spent trying to track her down. a SOFT SMILE appeared on her lips as she tilted her head at him, returning that fond and mischievous gaze right back. a light chuckle echoed in the back of her throat. she seemed to be in a good mood. was it because of his unannounced arrival ? or was it because he actually remembered ( more like found out ) that today was her birthday.

" are you here to give me a present ? " her eyes gleamed with playfulness, and as though he could read her mind, a single stride was all he needed to close the distance between them. she let out another amused chuckle over him mentioning how she enjoyed luxuries. but he was RIGHT. he was on point. she would've scolded him for getting her something grand and expensive. mora and monetizing value means little to nothing to her. she could have anything she ever wanted, after all. the world is in her grasp.

her eyes found themselves upon his features when he tucked a single glaze lily into her hair. the soft fragrance of the floral itself provided a rather sweet atmosphere as they stood before each other, face to face. listening to his words, her eyes couldn't help softening just imagining him PERCHING on top of the roof somewhere, or even atop the high mountain that would give him leverage to see anyone come and go, waiting to spot her silhouette in the crowds.

" you were waiting for me ? how cute. " despite the tease, she didn't avoid him when he leaned down, his lips brushed over hers softly, and she tilted her head to the side, only to prolong that soft touch just a moment longer. it was tender and soft, one that set her heart pounding. a different kind of kiss they usually shared in their moments of passion. words were left unsaid, as she watched him fondly so.

i want to celebrate your existence.

there was something about the way he uttered those syllables into the air. was it the look in his eyes when he gazed at her ? or was it the way she could feel his breath tickling her nose with how close they were ? yelan wasn't sure, but she wasn't going to ask, either, nor was she going to tell him that they made her heart skip a beat. no. all she did was taking a small step towards him, raised both her arms to link her hands behind his neck, loosely wrapping around it and pulling him closer.

" so, you're offering yourself as my present, ran ? " her head canted to the side, almost innocently. the way her lips tugged up into a SWEET SMILE spoke how she certainly was approving of the notion. after all, if she didn't want him to find her, he wouldn't have. and if she didn't want him here, she wouldn't lead him here, either. only selected few was allowed to know of this place, and HE was one of them. his words still lingered at the back of her mind. wanting to celebrate her existence. really, the way he phrased that ...

... it was almost as if he was telling her he was grateful for her to be born.

her hands laced themselves behind his neck, guiding him down so their eyes could meet. there was a comfortable silence between them, how their gazes seemed to communicate and she was sure that he could hear the sound of her heart thumping with how close they were, the same way she could hear his HEART pounding louder. and she whispered against his lips, like a secret, as long lashes draped over her eyes.

" don't mind if i do, then. "

and she sealed his lips with another kiss.

#crimsontroupe #.answered #.[ yelan ]#.ran.yelan tag #[ i'LL FIND THEM A TAG LATER BUT #HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNG #THESE TWO #THESE TWOOOOOOOO #SOMAAAAAAA THEYYYY !!!!!#THEIR UNSAID WORDS #ARE SO LOUD #YOU CAN HEAR THEM SO LOUD #one day they'll admit their feelings for each other #the feeling that is SO DARN OBVIOUS BY NOW WHO ARE YOU TWO FOOLING SRSLY ???#CERTAINLY NOT EACH OTHER ]

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viacursecasting · 3 years ago

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Playing With Hearts.

{ High School AU w/ @chippzter }

It was after school hours. The ebony hedgehog glanced at his phone as he waited outside the arcade. He himself was on time, so where—?

A blue blur suddenly skidded to a halt before him. "Sorry I'm—late, Shads—!" Sonic panted, resting his hands on his knees.

It was only by two minutes. Still, Shadow chided with a smirk, "Do you ever find it ironic that you're often late despite your speed?" Then he contemplated, "Perhaps it's because of it?"

Sonic chuckled. "Calm down, Socrates."

Then he looked up to see the neon sign of the building. "Wait, you brought me to an arcade? Don't you want lunch?"

"They have a dining area as well," Shadow explained. "But I thought it would be best if we worked up an appetite."

Curious, Sonic followed Shadow through the double doors and up to the counter. He chatted with the employee for a bit before exchanging some rings for what looked like two credit cards. He thanked them before the hedgehogs made their way toward the games.

Shadow handed Sonic one of the cards, which the latter viewed curiously. "What's this?"

"A game pass," Shadow responded. "Tokens are digital now, so you simply swipe to play."

"Cool," Sonic said twirling the card on the tip of his finger. "How much is on it?"

"100."

Sonic fumbled, clumsily catching the card with both hands. "100 tokens!?" Sonic exclaimed. "I'm supposed to be treating you!"

Shadow shrugged. "It's nothing." After all, his father had a pretty good business...

"No, really," Sonic said, touching him on the shoulder while flashing him that stunning smile, "thank you."

Shadow's brain seemed to malfunction for a second before he replied, "Ah... welcome..."

Sonic then confidently placed his fists on his hips. "Alright! What should we play first?" Before the lifeform could say anything, Sonic excitedly burst, "Ooh, ooh! Racing!"

He dashed into one of the car seats and swiped his card, gesturing for Shadow to sit in the console beside him.

Shadow did so, adjusting the seat forward so his legs could reach the pedals. "I hope you're ready to lose," he taunted.

Sonic put both hands on the wheel, selecting a character and a track. "Bring it on!"

They were neck and neck for three laps straight, Shadow overtaking Sonic after performing an impeccable drift. But right before the lifeform crossed the finish line, Sonic aimed a rocket Wisp straight at him, making him spin out as the speedster nabbed first place.

"WOO!" Sonic punched the air. "Expect no less from the fastest thing alive!" He puffed his chest out victoriously.

Shadow gave a slow clap. "Well played. But let's try something a little more my speed."

Shadow led the hero to a console with a giant screen that displayed the words Mansion of the Dead in a distressed font.

Sonic picked up one of the two brightly colored pistols, turning it over cautiously in his hand. "I'm not sure I'll be any good at this..."

"Allow me." Shadow then proceeded to wrap his arms around the hero from behind, guiding his hands into the correct position.

It was a good thing the arcade was dark; Sonic was sure he was as red as a tomato.

The hero could feel Shadow's warm breath on his cheek. "Keep your elbows up, like this." He tilted Sonic's wrists just a touch. "Use the sights to aim. Got it?"

When the lifeform stepped away, Sonic realized just how madly his heart pumped in his ears. "Mhm," he squeaked. "Yeah, sure."

Shadow swiped his card before gripping his handgun, giving it a twirl. "Good luck."

Almost immediately, zombies filled the screen, making Sonic shriek and fire at anything that moved.

Sonic's panic was more entertaining than the game. After waves of zombies, Shadow couldn't help but snicker before he burst out laughing, losing his focus and getting overrun by enemies.

Sonic's ear twitched delightedly at the sound of Shadow's voice. He had never heard him laugh like that before. Soon, the screen bled the words Game Over.

But Sonic already felt like he won.

After a few seconds, Shadow wiped some tears from the corners of his eyes. "You realize some of those targets were innocents, right?"

Sonic chuckled nervously. "Th-They walked like zombies?"

Shadow let out one last hum. "Your aim was surprisingly good."

Sonic grinned. "I had a pretty good teacher."

Shadow returned the sentiment with a small smile before gesturing for Sonic to follow him. "Come. We'll try out something I think you might like."

They walked up to a stage where arrows scrolled rapidly across the screen and jumbo speakers emitted lively music.

Sonic gasped, hearts in his eyes. "I—love—Step Step Revolution!"

He swiped his card. Then he gestured at the empty spot beside him, raising an eyebrow at the lifeform. "Aren't you gonna play?"

Shadow leaned against the wall, waving dismissively. "Dancing's not really my thing."

"Ah," Sonic understood before giving him a wink. "Then enjoy the show."

Shadow gave an amused huff, looking away. But from the corner of his eye, he watched him pick a track—this particular song used two dance pads—and then set it to expert. This cocky bastard really wants to show off, huh...

Sonic found his groove in no time, stepping on every scrolling arrow perfectly as a high-tempo beat played. His legs were a blur as he jammed side to side, back and forth. Light as a feather, quick as a whip. He made it look effortless.

Shadow had to admit he was impressed. It reminded him of how the hero evaded the hawk's punches like a breeze to save his brother.

Soon, Sonic garnered a small crowd, who watched in awe at his quick, accurate moves as he stepped to the rhythm flawlessly.

When he finished the song, the screen flashed PERFECT, but he was surprised to hear a round of applause behind him. He then noticed the crowd, so he bowed in that overly dramatic way of his.

Shadow watched as a girl excitedly came up to the blue hedgehog, exchanging a few words. Sonic nodded a few times. Then he laughed out loud.

Shadow grimaced. He wasn't surprised that Sonic was capable of attracting fans wherever he went. I should be happy for him, right? He then clutched his chest.

Then what is this gnawing feeling...?

Sonic returned to the ebony hedgehog, noticing his sullen expression. "You okay?"

Shadow felt guilty for making him worry. The gnawing moved to his stomach, so he clutched it. "I..."

Sonic noticed the gesture. "Ah! You must be hungry. Here, we'll finally get that lunch I owe ya!" He grabbed the lifeform's hand, eagerly dragging him along.

They made their way to the diner's barstools. Sonic ordered for them, surprised that Shadow had never tried a chili dog before.

The hero twirled in his seat as they waited, As he did so, something fluttered out of his pocket. Shadow reached down to grab it. "What's—?"

"Nothing!" Sonic said as he yanked the flyer from his grip and stuffed it back in his pocket.

Shadow managed to catch one word. "Audition?" He watched Sonic flush. "What are you auditioning for?"

Sonic swallowed, twiddling his thumbs. "The... school play."

Being in the spotlight seems right up his alley, Shadow thought. "When are tryouts?"

"It doesn't matter," Sonic said with slumped shoulders. "I'm not doing it."

Shadow was incredulous. "What? Why?"

Sonic's ears folded back sheepishly. "I'm kinda... shy."

Shadow scoffed. "You? Shy? We are talking about the same hedgehog, correct?"

"Stuff like that"—Sonic gestured vaguely toward the arcade—"just sorta happens. I don't really choose to have all that attention."

Shadow seemed to understand. "You revel in the spontaneity. But when it's rehearsed, you feel pressure?"

Sonic nodded. "That's exactly it." He batted his eyelashes at him. "You already know me so well."

God, stop looking so—! Shadow turned away. "Right..."

Their meals finally came. Shadow had to admit that the scent of spices, chili, and fresh bread smelled divine. The hot dog had all sorts of toppings—green onions, tomatoes, shredded cheese—that added pops of color, inviting his eyes as well as his tongue.

Sonic leaned forward in anticipation as Shadow took his first, tentative bite.

"Hm," Shadow finally said. "Not bad."

"I knew you'd like it," Sonic said before he practically inhaled his own chili dog.

The fact that Shadow was trying out new things—and enjoyed it—gave him newfound courage. "What if I went to tryouts with you?"

Sonic blinked as we wiped a bit of chili from the corner of his mouth. "You would audition with me?"

"Not audition," Shadow clarified. "I would just support you from the sidelines."

Sonic bounced excitedly. "Oh, Shads, that would mean the world to me! I think I could do anything with you by my side."

The way his eyes lit up like stars made Shadow's heart flutter. He averted his gaze. "Don't mention it..."

"Would you like a ride home?" Shadow offered as the hedgehogs walked into the parking lot.

"I didn't know you could drrr..." Sonic trailed when the lifeform stood beside a motorcycle. "Wait, that's yours!?"

Shadow handed him his helmet. "Yes. Did I not tell you?"

"I think I would've remembered," Sonic replied as he scrutinized the headgear with caution.

Shadow eyed him all-knowingly. "You've never been on one before, have you?" He threw a slender leg over the bike, gesturing to the seat behind him.

Sonic froze. He could handle being on a bike. But could he handle being so... close?

Shadow saw him hesitate. "I'll keep you safe." He offered his palm. "I promise."

That seemed to do the trick, for Sonic gave him a soft smile. "I know." He put on the helmet and took Shadow's hand, hopping onto the seat behind him.

At first Sonic kept his grip on the underside of his seat, but as the bike revved to life and lurched forward, he shrieked and wrapped his arms around the lifeform's torso.

Shadow tried to ignore his racing heartbeat as they took off into the streets. They made good time as he weaved between cars like a needle and thread.

With the wind in his azure quills and asphalt two inches from his face during tight turns, Sonic clutched him tighter. "Are you always this reckless?" he called over the sound of the engine.

Shadow chuckled. "Is the fastest thing alive afraid of a little speed?"

"This is way different than running!"

So different, he thought as thrill and fear performed a tango in his mind. What brought him comfort, though, was the scent of Shadow's leather jacket, was the warmth of his body pressed against his chest.

Maybe... he could get used to this...

Just then, Sonic saw where they were headed. "Wait, we're taking the bridge?" The one with the big body of water under it!?

It was too late to turn around. Shadow felt the hero bury his head into his back. "Are you afraid of water?"

"N-No!"

Oh, shit.

Shadow had to stop due to traffic. While he didn't want to prolong Sonic's anxiety, he also didn't want Sonic to miss—

"Remember how you said you could do anything with me by your side?" Shadow said over his shoulder as the engine idled.

"Yes..." Sonic replied in acquiescence.

"Then open your eyes."

He tightened his hold around Shadow, clutching for dear life. "I... I can't!"

"Trust me."

Sonic took a deep breath, tilting his head just a touch.

Suddenly he caught the view of a sun-kissed sky, one that bled hues of rose and marigold. Rays reflected divinely across the water, resembling dazzling stars.

Sonic breathed in awe. Shadow felt him relax his grip. Traffic finally started to move, and he cursed under his breath.

If only there was a way to stop time.

It didn't take long for Shadow to pull into Sonic's driveway, parking next to some of Tails' inventions.

Shadow got off the bike, turning to help the hero. "What did you think?"

Sonic took his hand as he hopped off, returning the helmet. "That was..."

He looked up to see Shadow's windswept quills. No matter what angle or time of day, he always looked—

"Beautiful," Sonic breathed.

"I'm glad you liked it," Shadow admitted as he walked Sonic up to the front door.

It was time to address the elephant in the room. Sonic rubbed his arm nervously. "Hey, Shads?"

"Hm?"

He pretended to find something interesting on his shoe. "When that girl at the arcade talked to me, she offered me her number."

Shadow's heart sank. "Oh."

"But I told her I couldn't take it."

Shadow tried to not let his relief show. Still, he was curious. "Why?"

Sonic blushed profusely. "I told her you and I were on... a date."

It was Shadow's turn to tint.

"But that doesn't mean it's true!" Sonic clarified. Then he rubbed his neck. "I-I mean, not unless you want it to be—"

Shadow then leaned forward to press his lips against the hero's cheek, deepening his redness. As he broke away with a soft click, Sonic practically forgot how to breathe. His heart pounded so madly he almost didn't hear the lifeform's next words.

"I had fun." Shadow then added with a smirk, "On our date."

Sonic beamed brightly, tossing his arms around the lifeform's neck.

Shadow was taken aback—hugs were a very rare occurrence for him—but he returned the embrace.

They bid each other goodbye before Shadow retreated to his motorcycle. As he took off, Sonic sighed dreamily, the purr of the engine fading as he watched the lifeform drive into the sunset.

When Sonic stepped inside his abode, Tails was on the couch, pretending to be reading his textbook as if he didn't just peek through the curtains. "Sooo? How'd it go?" he asked with an innocent grin.

Sonic ruffled the kit's bangs. "Sorry bro," he said with a wink. "I don't kiss and tell."

#via writing #sonadow #sth #high school au #this is ooc but let me have this #I've been thinking about it nonstop 🙃#young? check. dumb? check. in love?? check check check

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maomao-words · 4 years ago

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Here is another self-indulgent piece of writing! (✿´‿`)

I binged Blue Lock’s manga in 3 days and I am now left with an empty void that I’m trying to fill by writing about my favorite characters in it.

On a side-note, I always seem to think of them as 18-19 years old.

Contains few spoilers on some characters’ ranks after the Third Selection!

Being their Personal Manager at Blue Lock: (Itoshi Rin, Seishiro Nagi, Hyoma Chigiri)

Rin Itoshi:

Being assigned to the 1st ranker in all of Blue Lock immediately after your adaptability test barely shocked anyone. At this point in time where the whole existence of Blue Lock centered around Itoshi Rin, it was more than obvious that Rin would only receive the utmost care and the very best of the candidates as his manager.

Ranking first in the agonizingly harsh Entrance Exam and managing to out best all 600 other candidates from over the country, you were always the sole choice for Itoshi Rin’s personal manager.

You were already familiar with Rin’s character, preferences, weaknesses, strengths, diet and overall living style. You even had his body measurements down to the millimeter engraved in your brain. You thought yourself as perfectly ready to assist him in his endeavor, but reality soon proved you slightly wrong.

Meeting the genius called Itoshi Rin for the first time, you swore your blood ran cold within your veins the minute his eyes locked with yours. An oppressive aura, suffocating enough to send shivers down your back, surrounded you immediately the minute you stepped into his room. It took all of your willpower not to tremble in front of him.

Rin’s gaze did not move from yours for what seemed like an eternity, but noticing no visible signs of fear or submission on you, his lips slightly curved in a smirk and he finally stood up from his chair, discarding your test results on the table nearby.

“Not bad. She’ll do for now.”

Once you gained Rin’s initial approval, you started your mission as his closest aid. From the moment Rin opened his eyes to the minute he closed his door at night to sleep, you never left his side. You calculated his calories intake and planned his meals accordingly. You carefully reserved the training field and machines to Rin’s own wishes, making absolute sure they are available for Rin to use without any interruption or interference from other players. You planned, ran around, filled up water bottles and picked up emergency kits more quickly than you have ever did back in your own school’s competitive soccer club. You did that over and over again, to the point that you felt like dying. Until you finally broke down.

But being Itoshi Rin’s personal aid did not even offer you the privilege of breaking down in public. You waited until the day’s clamor and chaos was over. You meticulously prepared Rin’s lunch and reminded him to take the few tablets of vitamins afterwards before finally excusing yourself.

Rin raised a brow in faint confusion, as you have never willingly separated yourself from his side, even during meals. But the wound within your chest has finally festered to the point of no return, and you were unable to provide him with a convincing explanation before you gathered your papers and left.

The empty hallway located far from the center cafeteria soon echoed with your faint sobs. You gathered up your knees close to your chest and slowly rocked yourself in hopes of easing your pain. Weeks of harsh labor, zero communication with the outside world as well as the stress that came with handling all of Rin’s demanding responsibilities finally bled over.

You were not giving up. ‘Make no mistake,’ you whispered to yourself between sobs. You were just taking a much earned break before drying up your tears and returning to work.

But just as you began to feel frustrated at the tears still falling on your cheeks, you felt a heavy cloth fall on top of your head accompanied with an extremely familiar fragrance.

You jolted, hand coming up to clutch at Rin’s jacket before glancing up at the tall figure standing by your side. You opened your mouth but a round package slammed into your face next, leaving you to wince in pain.

“Eat that and let’s hurry back. I can’t find my black cleats.”

Rin’s voice echoed in the empty hall, forcing you to bring your attention to the melon bread he threw at you. Sounds of clothes rustling beside you made you look up again, only to find that Rin has sat down beside you, hand coming up to tug you closer to him.

Placing his palm on top of your eyes, Rin’s voice sounded as soft as ever as he whispered.

“Rest. I’m here.”

Seishiro Nagi:

As you stared down at your test results that have finally arrived after a long wait, you suddenly had the urge to cry out.

Why him of all people?

Having extensively studied all of Blue Lock’s key players prior to passing the Entrance Exam as a manager, you were filled with admiration and respect to them and thus felt ready to be assigned to any of them. Any of them but Nagi Seishiro.

A beginning who did not even know the most basic of the basics on football yet somehow blessed enough to be labeled as a genius even among Blue Lock’s outstanding participants. That was Nagi Seichiro.

You abhorred geniuses. You abhorred how easily they reached their goals, how effortlessly they achieved their desires and how the entire world seemed to bow down in front of them. Becoming the personal manager of a hard working individual, like Isagi Yoichi for example, would have made you the happiest woman on the planet. To watch that individual sweat and toil, think and plan all of his minor actions in order to reach the pinnacle of his dreams through both talent and hard work and get to assist him in that process was the reason behind your entrance to Blue Lock.

So when the day where the eleven chosen managers entered the isolated towering building to meet the elite players ranking at the top of the whole project came, all you could taste was bitterness and rage in your mouth.

After Ego finished the basic introductions between managers and players, he gave the green light for you all to start performing your duties. As you began to collect your belongings that were delivered to you by the staff, you could see the tall figure of a young man approaching you from behind.

Without allowing Nagi the faintest chance to offer his help, you hoisted your luggage up with both hands and started walking towards the managers’’ sleeping quarters with only “I will be back shortly” thrown behind your back at the frozen Nagi.

A job was a job after all and you had no intention to slack off because of your personal dislikes. But you will be sure to maintain a professional distance from Blue Lock’s 6th ranker to avoid any unnecessary trouble.

Being Nagi’s personal manager was as hard as you have expected. Having to support a monster who does not cease to evolve with each passing day at a frightening pace would be considered had by anyone’s standards. But you were already aware of the heavy duties imposed on you from the start so you grinded your teeth and bared the pain. The only issue you seemed to have was, unsurprisingly, Nagi himself.

You have intended for your cold treatment the day you both met to be enough warning for the player. You wanted to perform your duties. Nothing less, nothing more. But Nagi seemed to have another idea on the relationship between you.

He did not hinder your tasks nor act difficult on purpose to harm you, but he also made sure to greet you warmly each morning before plopping his large hand on top of your head and gently pat your hair for a few minutes before leaving.

He made sure to stick close to you during meal time, pushing off whatever he deemed not-tasty to your own plate, and innocently smiling when your try to scold him. He always shared his dessert with you, no matter how many times you tried to lie and tell him you disliked sweets. He constantly tried his best not to overburden you with questions on players and tactics and carefully chose the times where you were free enough to answer him.

In short, Nagi Seichiro was a weirdo. A weirdo you wanted to choke.

As the time went by, your perspective on Nagi was entirely transformed, despite yourself. You started to put extra care into his meals, go beyond what is required of you when it came to taking care of his training schedule and treatment and even sacrifice some of your free time in order to answer as much of his questions as you can.

One morning, as Nagi stepped in the room and smiled brightly at you, you found yourself moving in closer to him before raising your arms and catching him in a tight hug. Nagi almost stumbled in surprise, but managed to stable you both as he wrapped his hands behind your back. But before he could even utter a word, your mouth opened and a joyful, “Good morning Sei-chan!” came out.

Hyoma Chigiri:

“Are you sure you wish to be assigned to Chigiri?” Ego’s detached voice echoed in the almost empty hall, stopping you in your tracks. The results of the Blue Lock Entrance Exam for managers were just announced and the chosen eleven were asked to pack up and be ready to leave in a two-hours frame.

“You do realize that your rank actually qualifies you to become Itoshi’s Rin support, don’t you?” Ego’s fingers tapped on the table in a rhythmic manner, not stopping even as you glared at him.

“Yes, sir, I am well aware of that fact. But my decision will not change.” Your voice, calm and steady, caused Blue Lock’s host to grin, his raven locks falling to the side as he tilted his head to inspect you closely. “A calculative, rational and logical tactician as you, who managed to outrank all 600 other participants in a six hour long exam, is moved by mere personal emotions?”

It was hard for any regular person to detect the mockery dripping from each of Ego’s words and not feel their blood boiling within their veins. Only you slightly smirked at Ego, eyes curving in genuine mirth as you joyfully answered: “Yes! Is there any problem?”

All the struggles you have faced so far in order to reach this point were, after all, done for the sake of one person: Hyoma Chigiri. Specializing in medical treatment and athletic injuries as a manager was not a coincidence. You have long became aware of your intense desire to support Chigiri and aid him in his journey to achieve his dreams. No matter how many people laughed at you both, no matter how many criticized your choices and claimed you could do much, much better than an injured boy, playing on borrowed time, your resolve never shook.

As you finally locked eyes with Chigiri after your arrival at Blue Lock, you saw how his shoulders slightly trembled and his eyes widened, and your resolve was instantly renewed. Not many words were needed as you playfully extended your hand to shake Chigiri’s own. He was aware that you were there for him and that you will not change your mind no matter what he says or does.

Your duties at Blue Lock were slightly easier than your fellow managers simply due to the fact that you were already familiar with Chigiri’s routine. Needing no time to adjust, you dove head first into taking care of Chigiri, putting the well-being of his knee as your utmost priority. You tried your best not to bite your lips each time you bent down to take a look at the previously injured area, fully knowing that Chigiri has made his peace with the incident and was now focusing on moving on with no regrets.

Your favorite task to perform was, and still is, taking care of Chigiri’s silky hair. You were faced with his slightly damaged locks the day you arrived at Blue Lock’s building and Chigiri had to apologize a couple of times for ruining the hair you treasured the most. Ever since then, you returned to your usual task of picking hair products for him, drying and styling his hair depending on Chigiri’s schedule for the day. Braids were your go-to style but you also enjoyed changing things up, knowing that it made Chigiri happy each time you tried to come up with a new hairdo.

Now that you were finally reunited with your childhood friend and lover, you were ready to give it your all and see it all to its final end.

#blue lock #blue lock manga #itoshi rin #seishirou nagi #hyoma chigiri #itoshi rin x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #hyoma chigiri x reader

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years ago

Text

Hug-o-gram | Yoongi

→ summary:

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au, fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to scream, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: 13.3K → a/n: another commission by the lovely @jincherie because she’s epic like that!! she literally just told me to write whatever the hell i wanted and well... yoobie got me Good... anyway here’s more yoongi fluff bc apparently i’m a fluff writer now and sometimes i just want my boy to be happy... appa yip yip

Kim Seokjin makes a lot of good decisions. He also makes plenty of bad ones, but he likes to think the score is lying heavily towards the positives. Min Yoongi will be the first one to quickly disagree, but Seokjin doesn’t let it get to him. He doesn’t make it his business to listen to opinions that don’t immediately align with his, anyway; he likes to call it “selective hearing.” Yoongi calls it stupidity. Either way, the point still stands: Seokjin knows a good idea when he sees one. Case in point:

“This automatic popcorn machine is absolutely divine,” Seokjin moans, his mouth agape as he waits for the Mister Popcorn Robot to bestow him with another morsel of goodness.

“Yeah,” is Yoongi’s verbose reply. He also has his mouth agape, his prone body lying side by side with his roommate of four years in their small living room. Their roomba (another one of Seokjin’s good ideas) cleans all around them, its steady whirring serving as their only source of background music. “Lowkey though, I think our position isn’t quite… as optimized as it could be.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asks, as he drapes his leg over Yoongi’s. His movement jostles the surrounding popcorn halo around them, as most of the food had missed their mouths by a couple of centimeters. At this point, the roomba has probably eaten more of the popcorn than the two of them combined.

“Nothing,” Yoongi shrugs, or whatever might be the lying down equivalent of a shrug. Some of the popcorn on his chest falls down, only to be quickly devoured by roomba-chi. Yoongi stares at the ceiling, tracing shapes out of the cracks that Seokjin had accidentally made when he tried using a pogo stick indoors. He points up, catching Seokjin’s attention. “Hey, hyung. Doesn’t that look a bit like Y/N?”

Seokjin squints. “You mean the mysterious brown stain near the lights? I think the toilet from the elderly couple upstairs might have leaked that.”

“No, you dipshit. The squiggly curve over there. It reminds me of her smile.” Yoongi says. There’s a stupid dopey grin on his face and Seokjin wants nothing more than to wipe it off.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Seokjin groans, turning over to envelop Yoongi in a sweaty half-armed hug. The buttery residue on his arms and stomach leaves something to be desired, but Yoongi doesn’t scoot away. He only continues to sigh dreamily, staring mindlessly at the image of you that only his lovelorn brain can imagine.

Seokjin slaps Yoongi in the face. “Dude, get a fucking grip,” he grouses, giving Yoongi a serious look. The younger doesn’t break out of his trance, further irritating him. “Will you stop pining in front of my popcorn? It’s seriously making roomba-chi lose her appetite!”

To his credit, roomba-chi did seem to be slowing down, though that could also be because it had overloaded with popcorn and was seconds away from exploding. Wouldn’t be the first time, but Seokjin always managed to find a way to save roomba-chi from imminent death. She was like a daughter to him.

“Hyung, you know I can’t. I just… God, I really like her, you know?”

“That’s the third time you said that within the last hour. Believe me, I know.” Seokjin groans, shoving Yoongi away. He sits up, reaching over to the popcorn machine and switching it off. He grabs a fistful of fallen popcorn from the ground and shoves it inside Yoongi’s mouth. “There. That should shut you up.”

“Aw weawwy wike hew, hwung.”

“And yet, you still haven’t done anything after four years,” Seokjin tuts, finally standing up. He stretches his limbs, his joints creaking youthfully. He grabs his phone from the coffee table, nearly dropping it from the butteriness of his fingers. The clock reads 4:32 PM, which means–

“Yoongi, it’s time for me to head to work. You want to come with me today?” Seokjin asks, though he knows what answer he’s going to get. You see, Seokjin’s new booming business is another one of his fantastic ideas, but it is a little... inventive. Sure, Yoongi had scoffed when he had originally suggested the idea, but Seokjin knew that it was going to be a money-maker. Sure, it had taken a few years for the business to really take off, but once it finally did…

Enter Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service! Students from his university are able to send anonymous payments directly to him, with little notes attached for their crushes. Each love letter delivery comes with a hug from Seokjin himself, delivered straight to the person without them ever knowing who the hug came from. It was ingenious! It was lucrative! But most of all…

It allowed Seokjin to cause drama and have an excuse for it! Nothing could have been more perfect for a man like him.

“No thanks,” Yoongi snorts, rolling over to face him. He watches from the floor as Seokjin changes into a butter-less shirt, which also happens to have his own face printed on the front and back. His trusty cardboard sign that reads “I’m Gonna Glomp Ya!” also joins his attire for the afternoon, a long piece of string tied to its edges so that he can wear it around his neck. Throwing on a pair of white sneakers with the tags still attached, Seokjin is ready to tackle today’s list of would-be hug-ees.

“How do I look?” Seokjin asks, combing his hair with his fingers. It leaves an oily sheen, which he somehow makes it work.

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can speak tsundere, so you don’t need to explain,” Seokjin snickers, nearly getting hit with a TV remote by Yoongi. He opens his phone again, swiping to his e-mail to see his list of hug deliveries for the day.

Seokjin gets around 10 requests a day, with around half of them coming from regular clients. He’s especially fond of this boy who has been sending hugs to his TA named Namjoon for almost a month now. He has no idea why this kid has so much disposable income, though seeing the blush on Namjoon’s face everyday makes Seokjin think that he would spend every last penny for him too. Namjoon had begged Seokjin for his secret admirer’s identity, but snitchin’ isn’t a part of his service, unfortunately.

As much as Seokjin wants to know who is crushing on who, his little business wouldn’t work as well as it did if anonymity wasn’t included in his package deal. It allows people to thirst in public without facing the repercussions, like getting a knee to the groin or a slap to the face. Not that Seokjin has ever been at the receiving end of that; everyone loves him! Like, have you seen him? He must have saved a civilization in the past with how devastatingly beautiful his forehead is.

“Why am I suddenly filled with the relentless urge to deck you right now?” Yoongi says, getting up to change into clean clothes as well. His black t-shirt unfortunately does not have Seokjin’s face on it, but that can quickly be amended if the elder of the two decides to follow his every intrusive whim.

Seokjin laughs, completely unaware of the murderous capabilities of his friend. Due to his smaller body size, his percentage of evil is unusually concentrated. “Maybe it’s because you know that I’m into pain pla–” but Seokjin’s retort suddenly grinds to a halt. He chokes mid-sentence, coughing wildly as he pounds his chest with a balled-up fist. When Yoongi looks up at him, he finds his hyung staring slack-jawed at his phone, seemingly flabbergasted by what he finds on his screen.

“What’s the matter? Accidentally sent a dick pic to your prof again?” Yoongi snorts.

“That was one time! And no, it’s…” Seokjin trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant. He shifts his gaze from his phone to Yoongi, a drop of sweat quickly forming on the back of his neck. Yoongi raises a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Instead of replying, Seokjin hands him his phone. Yoongi finds a copy of one of Seokjin’s newest hug requests, only having just received it five minutes ago. As he scrolls down, he finds that this secret admirer is a new client, but that isn’t what made Seokjin stop in his tracks. Instead, it’s the recipient of the hug that catches his attention–

“Y/N has a secret admirer?” Yoongi says, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, trying his best to school his face into something less… jealous. He swivels away from Seokjin, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He convinces himself that he is the very epitome of calmness.

“You okay there, Yoongi? You look like you’re about to vomit,” Seokjin says, immediately breaking his inner peace. Yoongi groans loudly, shucking the phone over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. Seokjin, with his superhuman and God-given reflexes… doesn’t catch it. But he did dive to the floor like a seasoned Olympian, and his ass cushioned his phone so he supposes that’s a win.

Back to the matter at hand––

“I am fine,” Yoongi says, as he continues to not be fine.

From the floor, Seokjin shoots him a disbelieving look. He lies down more comfortably, propping his head on his elbows. Screw his hug-o-gram appointments for now; nothing brings him more joy than seeing Yoongi absolutely losing it. “Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I marched up to Y/N right now and give her the warmest, coziest, most tender hug of her fucking life?”

“Y… Yes,” Yoongi squeaks, neck glowing a furious red. He has his fists clenched (adorably) by his sides, head bowed as he faces the wall of their apartment. Seokjin’s brain makes the unhelpful comparison of Yoongi with that cat meme who says “no talk me angy” in Impact font.

Seokjin grins, his wickedness from within coiling and yearning to burst from his seams. This is it! Maybe if he pushes a little more, then maybe Yoongi will stop pining like a pathetic loser! Also, it didn’t hurt that he got to push Yoongi’s buttons while he’s at it, but hey! Not all heroes go to heaven or whatever.

He grabs his phone from his ass, scrolling back to the e-mail. “So… You wouldn’t mind if I walk up to Y/N right now and tell her ‘Hey! I’ve had an embarrassingly long crush on you and when I heard about this hugging service… I couldn’t miss the chance to shoot my shot! If you’re single and ready to #mingle, then please meet me at the Corner Cafe at 2 PM tomorrow.’” Seokjin sing-songs, snickering loudly when he sees the absolute pain etched onto Yoongi’s face.

There is a pause, and Seokjin waits as Yoongi uses his tiny kitty brain to think of what to do. He can only imagine what’s going inside his head, but he has a guess. Yoongi could either: 1) finally admit his feelings for you and come clean before Seokjin has to deliver your hug, or 2) do something stupid and counterproductive.

It comes as no surprise when Yoongi goes with option number––

“Hyung, let me come with you to work today,” Yoongi decides, walking over Seokjin’s prone body to their shoe rack. He slides into a pair of sneakers, his harried movements unusual for his customary lethargicness. He grabs a coat from its hanger, stomping his feet to get Seokjin to move faster. “C’mon! We have hugs to deliver.”

“Woah woah woah! Slow down there, Simpimus Prime.” Seokjin gets back up to his feet, skipping over to him. An absolutely feral grin is stretched upon his face. “Am I hearing what you’re saying? Are you offering… to deliver hugs with yours truly? Are you finally going to take up my offer to be an employee at Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service?”

“Of course not,” Yoongi scoffs, but his shifting eyes betray him. He fidgets in place, refusing to return Seokjin’s eager gaze. “I just… wanted to go out for once. Yeah.”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“You haven’t left this apartment other than to go to class in over a month. You never go out. You’re an indoor cat!”

“I’m not a fucking cat,” Yoongi hisses, like a cat. “And of course I go out! There was that one time I went outside to pick up our food delivery last week.”

Judging from Seokjin’s unimpressed stare, Yoongi’s excuse doesn’t cut it. Yoongi flaps his arms around, defeated. “Okay, fine! I rarely go out! Screw me and the bounteous crapload of assignments I have due! It’s not my fault I don’t have the time to socialize and have fun. What do you want from me?”

What Seokjin wants is to push a confession out of Yoongi, not because he needs the confirmation, but mostly because he just wants to annoy Yoongi and say “I told you so!” He’s also pretty cute when he’s all blushy and tsundere whenever he talks about you. Should he film him and sell the footage on eboys.bb? He’s certain that goth boy over here would make a pretty penny.

“You like krabby patties, don’t you Squidward?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Yoongi sniffs, nose upturned. He opens the door, not looking behind him to see Seokjin’s triumphant expression. “C’mon. Y/N’s last class of the day ends in a few minutes and we might catch her before she leaves the Science Building.”

Seokjin snorts. He is quick to slip his own coat on and he follows soon after. He locks their door shut, hopping over to Yoongi and matching his shorter-legged pace. “Yeah. Because you totally just know her schedule at the top of your head. You know, like a normal person.”

Yoongi ignores him. He trudges on, each step filled with determination as they make their way to Seokjin’s beat-up truck. Seokjin skips alongside him, observing the younger boy and placing bets inside his mind. The drive to campus isn’t that long as it only takes around 10 minutes to get there, but Seokjin guesses that Yoongi’s defenses will begin to chip away only 3 minutes into the drive.

He’ll start to realize the gravity of the situation, the cogs in his smooth and slushy excuse of a brain slowly comprehend what he’s about to witness. He’ll first think about how 1) he’s going to see you and that never helps his poor dainty grandpa heart and 2) he’s going to see you hugging Seokjin as he reads to you the short love confession from your anonymous Romeo. Seokjin bets that after 8 minutes, Yoongi will start to break out into a sweat, leaving gross perspiration marks on his good car seat leather.

After exactly 7 minutes and 34 seconds (Seokjin was keeping track of the time on his dashboard), Yoongi’s face turns an unflattering shade of green. “Dude. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Yoongi had originally offered to drive the two of them to campus, but Seokjin had the good foresight to refuse. Had Yoongi been the one on the wheel, he would’ve brought them back home in an instant due to nerves. So instead, Seokjin speeds up, ignoring Yoongi’s soft whimpers of defeat.

“Too bad, but there is no turning back now. I have six deliveries today and I am not putting my livelihood on the line just because your balls have magically shrunk in size,” Seokjin snickers. He glances at Yoongi from the corner of his eye and feels the slightest touch of pity for the pathetic fool beside him. “But if it really makes you want to shit yourself from anxiety, we could save Y/N for last. Though, on second thought… That could also prolong your misery, which I will always be up for.”

“God, shut up,” Yoongi groans, slamming his head on the dashboard. Seokjin continues undeterred as he pulls into the campus parking lot, waiting for his friend to make up his damn mind for once in his life. He supposes that he is being a little harsh on Yoongi, but there are only so many sad love songs he can listen to without going completely insane.

Aren’t you tired of being nice? The demon on his shoulder cajoles, shoving the corpse of his angel counterpart somewhere down a ditch. Don’t you just want to go apeshit?

And who is Seokjin to deny his impulsive needs anyway?

“No, let’s… just get this over with,” Yoongi decides, head still smushed against his dashboard. He doesn’t make any move to get out of the car, not even when Seokjin shuts off the engine and makes a show of “leaving” Yoongi behind.

“Okay, lover boy. You have ten seconds to get your butt into high gear before I’m leaving you behind. And you should know that I’m not above playing dirty and giving Y/N the sweetest fucking hug of her life that will make her forget anyone else exists in this world, so you better start moving before I–”

Like lightning, Yoongi scrambles out of the car faster than if it had caught on fire (and Seokjin’s car has exploded before and Yoongi certainly did not seem as bothered to escape than he does right now.) He nearly trips over himself in his haste, getting caught by the car door and nearly receiving a concrete facial to boot. He straightens up with as much dignity as he can muster (which he doesn’t have very much of, if at all.) Seokjin is kind enough not to mention anything, but the shit-eating grin on his face is enough to make Yoongi bristle.

They exit the parking lot, looking to the world like the sun and moon had turned human for the day. Min Yoongi, with his all-black attire and gaunt appearance, is heavily juxtaposed with the man who appears to have been vomited on by a rainbow. They walk side-by-side together, accustomed to the stares that often come their way when they go out in public.

“I just can’t believe we’re doing this,” Yoongi moans for the umpteenth time, his movements stilted like a robot. His footsteps look heavily disjointed like his knees were beginning to rust. His arms swing like a pendulum, adding to the unnaturalness of his motions. Basically, he looks like a fucking idiot.

“Who are you calling an idiot?” Yoongi snaps. Seokjin startles a bit, realizing belatedly that he’d said that out loud. Not that he cares. Yoongi continues, “I’m not the one wearing a fucking cardboard sign that looks like a toddler made it with macaroni and glitter!”

“Hey, Taehyung told me it looked good,” Seokjin sniffs, fingering the macaroni pieces dejectedly. “I don’t need to hear an opinion from a Music major.”

“Shut up, Business major. No one likes you fucking snakes,” Yoongi retorts, crossing his arms. “Your definition of fun is going on LinkedIn and using Excel sheets.”

Distracted by their own quarrel, neither of them notice the sound of the large clock in the middle of campus that chimes every hour, signaling that it was already 5 PM. A few minutes later, hoards of students begin to leave university for the day, the walkways beginning to fill with people as they head home. Amidst the chattering and bustling of everyone trying to get out of the crowd, it is hard to notice that you are also one of the hundreds of people finishing your last class of the day.

But Yoongi notices, as he always does. Call it Y/N intuition, or whatever. “There,” Yoongi points you out over dozens of heads. Seokjin can hardly spot you, but he trusts Yoongi’s weird Y/N-dar to find you without fail. People have begun to notice the two of them, most of whom were whispering excitedly when they notice that Seokjin is in his work attire.

“Oh my god, someone’s getting a hug-o-gram! I wonder who…”

“Have you ever ordered one? I got one for my current girlfriend last month and that’s how we got together.”

“I’ve always wanted to send one, but the prices are insane! Fuck them business students and their capitalist ways.”

“Screw sending a hug to someone else! I wanna order a hug for me. Kim Seokjin is a hot piece of ass.”

(Yoongi swears the last comment had sounded eerily like Seokjin himself, but the older boy’s mouth hadn’t moved in the last minute.)

“Alright, Yoongi. Here’s the plan,” Seokjin leans closer to Yoongi, stage whispering into his ear. Everyone within a six-foot radius is eagerly eavesdropping, not even bothering to pretend that they aren’t. It’s common knowledge that Seokjin basks in their attention, anyway. Yoongi rolls his eyes, urging him to get it over with.

“Y/N is over there, right? Well, I have to send a hug to this guy named Mark Lee too, who just so happens to be over there,” Seokjin points behind them, in the opposite direction of where Y/N was heading, “so here’s my proposition. You go over to Y/N and deliver the hug for me, while I go catch up to Mark so that we can kill one bird with two stones!”

“Excuse me?” Yoongi wheezes, pushing Seokjin away from him. His eyes bug out. “Are you insane? I am not doing that. And the phrase is ‘killing two birds with one stone,’ you fucking idiot.”

“Same shit, Shakespeare! Who cares about numbers!” Seokjin exclaims, exasperated. “Listen, would you rather you hug Mark and I hug Y/N?”

“I would much rather prefer that I stick my whole fist up your anus,” Yoongi seethes.

“Interesting proposition, but maybe for a later time,” Seokjin says, not missing a beat. “Listen, dude. The longer we prolong this little bitchfest you have going on, the farther away Y/N is gonna get. You know I will stop at nothing to deliver her hug anyway, so would you rather you miss your chance right now when I am so magnanimously offering you a shot at getting closer to your crush?”

Even though Yoongi feels like his insides were slowly turning into mashed potatoes, he knows that he had already made a decision long before they left the house. Seokjin is right; this is a good opportunity for him, whether he is willing to admit it out loud. Perhaps it is just because it is Seokjin of all people who is egging him on that preprogrammed him into thinking that this was a bad idea. In all seriousness, it was just a hug, nothing fancy. It isn’t like Yoongi was going to have to kiss you––

(His heart contracts and Yoongi wonders if he’s having a stroke. The thought of your soft lips connecting with his is enough to cause the wind to knock out of his chest. God, Yoongi is so screwed.)

“Why must I always feel as though I am a snail and God is personally salting me,” Yoongi groans, stepping away from Seokjin and heading your way. Behind him, Seokjin hollers in what he assumes is friendly support, but it only further antagonizes Yoongi. The absolute buffoon waves enthusiastically from behind him, a beaming grin almost ready to split his face in two. Yoongi flips him off without looking back.

God fucking dammit. The closer that Yoongi is to approaching you, the stronger the urge to just evaporate like ice cream on hot concrete becomes. He can feel himself perspiring from every corner of his body and he just hopes that his black attire will do well to mask the slimy creature that he is underneath his clothing.

This is all Seokjin’s fault, Yoongi reminds himself. If he hadn’t started this stupid hugging service in the first place, then no one would have ordered a hug for you in the first place. Then Yoongi wouldn’t have to be in this stupid predicament either!

But you could’ve ordered a hug for her if you wanted to, says the annoying part of his brain – the same part that’s always been a little bit too hopeful for Yoongi’s liking. The whispers continue, And she wouldn’t even know it would be you! But more importantly…

“Seokjin wouldn’t know either,” Yoongi huffs irritably because he knows it’s true. The biggest thing stopping him from ever making a move on you, other than his debilitating fear of rejection and heartbreak, is the fact that he’d rather explode into spores than for Seokjin to find out that he’d used his “genius” business idea to get the girl of his dreams.

He’s afraid that one day, Seokjin would magically develop telepathic powers (a fear that Yoongi feels that the majority of the human population should also share) and find out that Yoongi doesn’t actually think his hug-o-gram service is dumb. It’s actually really cute, and Yoongi hates to admit that the success rate of his service is nearly perfect in terms of getting couples together.

But Yoongi is a strong (read: stubborn) man; he’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin the satisfaction of seeing his business work out for his seemingly hopeless case. Which brings him to the present–

You’re standing by the entrance of the Sciences building. You are dressed nicely as always; Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever seen you in anything remotely slobby, not even a pair of sweats like any regular uni student. You always look a little bit business proper: the epitome of someone who should be on the student council.

You’re speaking to someone, a younger male student by the looks of it. The hairs on Yoongi’s neck stand at attention and, God forbid, did he just fucking growl? Did he make that sound? By the looks of the students carefully navigating their way around him, Yoongi surmises that he did make that sound. Geez, is he some sort of animal? Is he going to turn into those feral stan accounts on Twitter that salivate over their K-pop boys like it’s their job? He hopes not.

But what if that’s the kid who sent the hug–

Yoongi shuts up his brain before he can let it finish. No, he can’t let himself go down that path. It’ll only cause him to self-combust right then and there, and he isn’t exactly keen on letting you see his entrails anytime soon. That would be the least cool thing to do, he decides. And so, with his brain turned off, he walks over to you, arms swinging robotically by his sides as he forces himself closer.

“Oh thank you so much, Y/N! You’ve been a real help to our club, you know?” The boy (Yoongi can’t believe they’re letting toddlers into university these days!) says, his eyes glittering with an ambition that still hasn’t been killed by the all-consuming dread that comes with university.

You laugh lightly, the sound causing butterflies to flutter excitedly in Yoongi’s chest. “No worries, Soobin. I’m glad I could be of help. If the editorial board needs any more help, don’t be shy to shoot me a message, alright?”

Soobin nods enthusiastically, his head bobbing up and down so quickly that Yoongi was afraid his neck would snap. “No worries, Y/N! Have a good rest of your week!” He waves a cheery goodbye, springing away with his numerous anime keychains on his backpack jingling softly in his wake.

“What a cute kid,” you sigh. You look incredibly fond, and Yoongi hates the bitter coil swimming in the pit of his stomach. That feeling soon fizzles out when you finally turn to face Yoongi. Your eyebrows shoot up, but your expression quickly morphs into one of pleasant surprise. Yoongi’s heart stops for just a moment, feet turning cold. “Yoongi! Oh my goodness, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen you! How’s it going?”

Let’s play a game, shall we? How many of Yoongi’s nervous ticks can you spot within the next five minutes? Think of this as the easiest game of Where’s Waldo ever!

“Hnng,” Yoongi stammers, his hand immediately going to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks pinken, pupils shaking in every different direction as they try to focus on anything but you. It always feels like he’s standing way too close to the sun when he’s around you, hardly able to keep his gaze focused on you. He chooses to stare resolutely at your chin, but even your fucking chin was impossibly cute.

Seriously? Yoongi is a walking shitshow! His inner voice comes back, but this time it sounds uncannily like his roommate. Come on, buddy. Just say hi… You know, like a normal person. “H… Hey, Y/N.”

Success count: 1 point for the Yogurt Machine!

Even though Yoongi felt like he was living his worst nightmare, you still looked every bit like his favorite daydream. You are all smiles, seemingly unperturbed by Yoongi’s slow, embarrassing demise. “It’s so good to see you! Midterms haven’t been too hard on you, I hope?”

“I’ve been better,” he says. Better now that you’re here, he leaves unsaid. God, can you imagine if he said that out loud?

Your mouth drops open, soft cherry blossoms blooming across your cheeks. “Um, what did you say?” you squeak, embarrassed. But certainly not as embarrassed as the boy in front of you.

Yoongi stops breathing. He did not say that aloud, had he? Judging by the awkward silence stretching between the two of you, the signs are pointing to: yes. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygo–– “Er, what I mean to say is,” Yoongi stutters through his sentence, his entire body flushing fire engine red like it’s nobody’s business. He must look like Satan’s spanked ass right now. “I… I’m here to deliver a hug!”

Confusion quickly replaces the shock on your face. You tilt your head, brows scrunching up cutely. “A hug?” you ask.

“R-right,” Yoongi says, waving his arms around because he has nothing else better to do. He gestures vaguely in the opposite direction, where Seokjin had left to find his other clients. “I’m, uhh… Helping my roommate. Have you heard of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram service?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hop excitedly in place, looking to all the world like the cutest thing in the universe. Yoongi thinks you should be classified as a public hazard, what with how you’re somehow able to give him diabetes just from standing next to him. “I totally heard about that! I’ve always wanted to send a hug, but I’ve always been a little shy.”

That piques Yoongi’s interest immediately. You wanted to send a hug? But to who? He unconsciously clenches his jaw, and he can feel a vein pop up near his neck. He forces himself to smile, but he knows it probably looks more like a grimace. “Oh really? That’s… I didn’t know you had a crush on somebody.”

Yoongi is too busy wallowing in his own self-pity puddle that he misses the way you gaze shyly up at him through your eyelashes, your hands clasped behind your back. “Y-yea… I don’t really go around telling it to just anybody,” you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. You clear your throat. “So, are you here to deliver a hug or something?”

Nothing gets past you, huh? Yoongi swallows thickly as he twiddles his thumbs. He still can’t bear to look at you head-on, afraid that his emotions would be too obvious if he did. (Who is he kidding… He knows he’s fucking obvious, and yet you never seem to get the picture!) “Yea, I am. I’m here to deliver one to you, actually.”

He doesn’t get to see your reaction, but he does notice the way your entire body stiffens. His mind immediately starts to run a minute, trying to guess why you’d suddenly gone stock still.

Did you know who your secret admirer was already? Or perhaps, were you just thoroughly shocked to receive one at all? That can’t be it… You’re the campus sweetheart! Surely it’s much weirder that it has taken eons for you to get your first hug… Or perhaps, are you so disgusted by the thought of him delivering the hug? Oh my god, what if you didn’t want him to hug you? Shit, this entire thing is a terrible idea! How did Seokjin ever convince him to do this stupid shit and get his heartbroken in the process? He swears he’s going to shove ten firecrackers up his ass the next time he sees him––

“Um, Yoongi?” You’re staring worriedly at him, your hand semi-raised as if you were about to wave in front of him. Did you say something? He must look like a fucking prick to you! He shakes his head, trying desperately to get his mind back into his body. Why must he be cursed with inner monologue disease? What is he, some sort of shoujo manga male protagonist?

“Sorry about that. I’ve been a little spacey these days,” he laughs, but even he can hear the panic laced in his voice. He sounds just on the edge of being hysterical. “Ahaha… What were you saying?”

“I was just… shocked?” You giggle softly, making Yoongi cry internally. You smirk, mischief glittering in your eyes. “I just never imagined you’d be the type to… I don’t know…”

“Willingly hug people for the sake of capitalism? I feel you,” Yoongi snorts, forgetting for a moment who he’s talking to. “Believe me, I’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin to use me for his stupid business venture.”

“Then why are you delivering a hug to me now?” you ask, still smiling.

“Hnng,” Yoongi’s tongue feels like it’s grown two sizes all of a sudden. He wheezes, choking on his own spit as he’s caught off guard by your question. “W-well, I––”

“Just being a good friend, I’m guessing?” You’re full-on giggling now, barely trying to hide your mirth behind your hands. Yoongi understands now; you’re teasing him. He hates how amused you are by his awkwardness, but he loves the way your entire expression lights up, like you’re enjoying yourself by being with him.

“Let’s go with that,” Yoongi mumbles, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. He has his head bowed, hoping that his unruly fringe can finally come in handy and hide the disastrous blush encompassing his face. “Right… I’ll just, umm…”

“Am I getting my hug today, or am I gonna have to take a rain check?” You laugh, slapping his shoulder in an attempt to help him shake off the awkward tension. It has the opposite intended effect, as Yoongi’s breath hitches imperceptibly at your proximity. You had taken a step closer, and Yoongi could smell the sweet perfume you always seemed to be wearing. Please don’t pop a boner right now. That would be super fucking creepy.

“You’re…” Yoongi hesitates, arms uselessly immobile by his sides. He doesn’t know if he can even get them to move at this point, as he has lost all motor skills the moment you had focused all your attention on him. It’s a miracle that his heart remembers to beat every so often. “I’m just… I’m just gonna go for it, okay?”

You nod, hands tucked neatly behind your back. “No need to be scared, Yoongi. I don’t bite,” you joke.

God, if you only knew about the dreams I’ve had of you. Yoongi hopes to all the deities from up above that he had not said that aloud, but you don’t seem to be disgusted, so he can only assume that his traitorous brain had disconnected with his mouth for the time being.

He shuffles closer to you, the warmth of your body closing in as he makes the grueling effort to lift his arms up to gently wrap themselves around you, but before he can even fully hug you––

You’re quick to reciprocate. With a small laugh, you wrap your own arms around his torso, nuzzling into his chest with more force than Yoongi was expecting. He lets out a soft wheeze, mouth dropping open when he is assaulted by the smell of your fruity shampoo. His hands hover awkwardly above you, still unsure of where it’s okay to touch you without weirding you out.

You tilt your face up, eyes crinkling cutely by the sheer force of your grin. Both of your faces are only centimeters away from each other, and Yoongi could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired. His breathing stills as he becomes positively mesmerized by the beautiful sight in front of him. He doesn’t even hear the sound of phone camera shutters around him, as he is much too deeply focused on nothing but you, you, you.

“Hey, don’t half-ass your hug! Gimme a good ol’ bear hug!” you whine, nudging his elbows gently to get them to move. Snapped out of his reverie, Yoongi mechanically does as you say, his head completely empty of thoughts. He wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders, his wrist knocking slightly against the back of your head until you’re back to snuggling deep into his chest.

“Your laundry detergent smells nice,” you say, slightly muffled by his shirt. Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, mostly out of disbelief more than anything. He can’t even begin to process anything right now; he feels like he’s reverted back into a single-celled organism.

“Thanks?” Yoongi squeaks, but you don’t seem to mind his awkward attempts at being a Normal Person™️. You crane your neck upwards so that you’re looking him directly in the eye. There’s a twinkle of mischief there, like you’re enjoying Yoongi’s flushed face a little too much. He honestly feels like he’s seconds away from exploding into tiny bite-sized pieces, and he fears that if you snuggle deeper into his chest, he might just do exactly that.

“So… Are we just supposed to hug for another ten minutes, or am I allowed to let go?”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize how long it’s been. You could’ve been hugging him for ten hours and he wouldn’t have known. Yoongi jerks away from you, nearly vaulting himself across campus by how quickly he lets you go. Thankfully, you don’t appear offended––you were more amused than anything. Yoongi has no idea how red he is right now; he feels like he could be blowing steam out of his ears, astounding anatomists everywhere by his peculiar talent.

“I just have to–” Yoongi pats his back pockets for his phone, clumsily pulling it out and looking for his text messages, “–read this message from your, um, secret admirer and then we’ll be good to go.”

“Great.” You nod at him enthusiastically. “Whenever you’re ready, Yoonie.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches right then, caught off guard by the nickname. Only you ever called him that, and it never fails to make Yoongi’s insides feel like molten lava every time you say it. “I… Yeah, here goes,” Yoongi mutters, trying his best to remember how to speak.

He recites the message with as much enthusiasm as he can manage, which is to say, not very much. He could probably read the phonebook with more zeal, but it’s hard to give it his all when the words feel like acid in his throat. He’s unconsciously clenching his jaw as he speaks, looking like a constipated gorilla. “...so, if you’re single and ready to #mingle, then––” Yoongi stops mid-sentence, staring resolutely at his phone screen with a grimace.

You blink confusedly. “Then?”

“Then nothing,” Yoongi finishes, pocketing his phone without an inch of remorse. “I don’t know what was up with that message, but somehow the letter got cut short. Sorry about that.”

“Huh, strange.” You shrug your shoulders, not bothering to question him.

Yoongi fist bumps himself mentally, though other people might disagree and say that he doesn’t deserve any type of congratulations, to which Yoongi says a big “fuck you!” to those imaginary haters. In the wise words of Kim Seokjin himself, “not everyone is worthy to receive your fucks, so it’s time to stop giving them.” (Kim, 2020)

“Well, that was fun! Thanks for delivering the hug to me, Yoonie,” you pinch Yoongi’s cheek, giggling when they turn even redder. “I’ll see you around, I guess? Don’t let those midterms kill ya!” You wave cheerily at him, walking past him and heading towards the bus stops. Yoongi stands frozen in place, the events of the last few minutes finally catching up to him and frying his brain beyond repair.

Oh my god, he fucking hugged you! Like, a good and genuine hug! You felt so warm and so soft and you smelled really good and it was more than he could ever imagine and just––

Yoongi’s brain is trying (and failing) to desperately parse the delayed barrage of information as it comes, but it’s hard for the little hamster running circles in his head when it has never had to run a day in its life. Yoongi’s body feels like it’s overheating even though the weather is nearing the start of winter, but that’s all thanks to you and the devastating effect you have on him.

In short, Yoongi machine has broken, and any sort of maintenance is going to be hard to come by at the moment.

Yoongi could have been standing in front of the Science building for an entire year and he wouldn’t have budged until a tornado in the form of Kim Seokjin arrived to knock him out of his brain dead state. Whistling lowly, the elder stops in front of the rigid mass of meat, an eyebrow quirked in exasperation. “Dude, nice rigor mortis cosplay. Like, yes girl, give us nothing!” he exclaims, slapping Yoongi back to consciousness.

Yoongi blinks rapidly, dazed like he’s woken up from a dream. “What? What’s happening?” he replies dumbly.

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Yoongi. Did you finish delivering Y/N’s hug or what? I finished all my deliveries in the same time you had with Y/N, so I better hope to God you aren’t planning on applying to be an employee of mine, because you certainly have a long way to go before––”

“I hugged her,” Yoongi interrupts, eyes going glassy once more. His mouth is agape, and Seokjin can see a pool of saliva forming, ready to runneth over. He could see the rusted gears turning inside his dongsaeng’s head. “Oh my god, hyung. I fucking hugged her.”

“Yeah, and I hugged Taehyung Kim and felt his gigantic dick press into my stomach. You aren’t special,” Seokjin snorts, clasping Yoongi by the bicep. He drags him away, leading them to their parked car. “C’mon, Dampé. I’m tired and I wanna eat popcorn again.”

As they walk back to the parking lot, the campus roads are a lot less populated now that most students have gone home. Yoongi only then realizes how late it truly is and he vaguely wonders how long he had been stuck standing there before Seokjin had come to drag him back home. The sun has begun its daily descent, filling the courtyard with a warm glow and causing their shadows to grow longer as they trudge quietly to their car.

The campus is quiet enough that both of them hear the quiet buzz of Seokjin’s phone, despite him putting it on silent mode before he had gone on his hugging deliveries. He stops mid-step, causing Yoongi to bump his nose into his wide back. He yelps, shoving Seokjin forward in irritation.

“Why’d you fucking stop, you asshole?” Yoongi whines, his normal annoying personality resurfacing now that he’s begun to recover from your hug. He peers over Seokjin’s behemoth shoulders, squinting at his phone screen. “What? Another hug delivery?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it tomorrow since I think she’s gone home for the day,” Seokjin says, his tone sounding slightly too delighted for comfort. “In fact, I know she’s gone home already.”

Yoongi stills, changing his focus onto the elder’s expression. He looks… too eager to receive a simple hug-o-gram request. A shiver shoots through Yoongi’s spine when he realizes how nefariously bastardous Seokjin’s smile has grown, the tips of his smirk curling upwards like a villain from a classic Disney animation.

“What?” Yoongi glares acidly at Seokjin, but the elder is unaffected. In fact, he seems to grow more pleased the more aggravated Yoongi becomes. “Spit it out! What’s got your prostate tickled?”

“Oh, nothing,” Seokjin singsongs, shoving his phone down the front of his pants, exactly where he knows Yoongi would never touch. “Just got an interesting new regular customer, is all.”

“A new regular?” Yoongi’s pitch heightens, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling in alarm (like a cat.) “Is it… Another request for… You know who?”

“I wasn’t aware Voldemort went to our university,” Seokjin teases, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s distress. “Though, if you’re talking about Y/N, then the answer is not not not no.”

“Two double negatives.” Anyone could hear the audible soft rattling of his two brain cells exerting themselves as Yoongi deciphers his answer. “That means…”

Yoongi stares pointedly at Seokjin’s crotch, where the outline of his phone is glaringly obvious. “Show me,” Yoongi growls, not making a move to actually touch Seokjin’s nether regions.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “No one’s stopping you from taking my phone though?”

“Hyung!”

“Buy me bubble tea first, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine,” Yoongi acquiesces, folding his arms in annoyance. “Just tell me. Is it really the same guy who requested the hug for Y/N today as well?”

Seokjin fiddles around for his phone, digging deeper when it nearly drops down the leg of his pants. When he pulls it out and swipes to his e-mails, he confirms Yoongi’s fear. “Yep. And it seems like he saw you deliver the hug today. Says that he’d prefer that I deliver the hug next time,” Seokjin smirks, enjoying the deep-set frown on Yoongi’s face.

When Seokjin takes a closer look at the order, however, he notices something a little off. “Hold on a sec,” he scrolls to the receipt, scowling when he sees the incorrect amount. “Well, you might be in luck, Yoongi-chi. Looks like loverboy sent the wrong payment. He’s a few dollars short.”

“What?” Yoongi says, for what feels like the tenth time in this entire fic. He grabs Seokjin’s phone, no longer repulsed by where it had been only a few minutes prior. Like Seokjin said, the customer had given the wrong amount, much to both their confusion.

“That’s weird, considering he just ordered a hug today,” Seokjin murmurs, shaking his head. “Oh well. Happens to the best of us. Guess I’ll just have to refund the poor sap.”

“Wait,” Yoongi presses the phone to his chest, preventing Seokjin from taking it. His hyung raises a brow.

“What is it?”

“What if I just… pay you the remaining amount? Then I can also deliver the hug to her and, uhh...” Yoongi mumbles the remaining part, but Seokjin has trained his ears to catch every whisper and mutter for moments just like this. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t perfect his eavesdropping skills to a spy’s degree. That’s right––Seokjin is a sloppy and nosey bitch and he’s not afraid to admit it!

“Oh? Do my ears deceive me?” Seokjin guffaws, pinching Yoongi’s cheeks for good measure. He hisses in response, but Seokjin isn’t afraid of some little kitten. Seokjin is a bigger bitch with a meaner bite. “Is my little Yoongi Woongi seriously offering to deliver another hug to Miss Y/N? How magnanimous of you.”

Yoongi stares at him, stunned for a moment. A few seconds pass before he shakes his head, faux disdain coloring his expression. “That’s right,” Yoongi huffs, detaching himself from Seokjin’s meaty claws. He keeps his gaze averted, like the big stupid tsundere that he is. “I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart! I care about your profits, and I want to make your workload a little lighter! Isn’t that what you want?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Seokjin snickers, poking Yoongi in the tit. He swivels away, skipping merrily away to their parked car. “I’m expecting that cash in my Paypal by the time I get to the car, or else the deal is off. Make it snappy, loverboy!”

Yoongi had never transferred cash to someone so quickly in his life.

(Yes, not even when the food court on campus was doing a BOGO promo for churros. That’s the extent of how whipped his ass is, period.)

x x x x x

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

“Listen, I’m seriously not forcing you to do this,” Seokjin starts, even though he’s giving his utmost effort to further embarrass Yoongi by handing out flyers about Hug-o-gram’s newest employee. “Please, take one!” he cajoles, offering a flyer to a gaggle of giggling freshmen. “Make sure to reserve a hug within the week! Yoongi-chi over here is on his way to becoming employee of the month if he gets ten requests by Friday!” They all point and whisper at Yoongi, and he swears he hears one of them wolf whistle in admiration.

“That’s what makes this entire thing terrible. I’m doing this on my own volition, and I absolutely abhor myself for it,” Yoongi moans, grabbing Seokjin’s stack of flyers and smacking himself in the head with them. It probably would’ve hurt more when Seokjin still had a full-stack, but people had swarmed them the moment they entered the heart of the campus, everyone curious to see Yoongi in his interesting attire.

Seokjin might have been famous for creating the Hug-o-gram Service, but Yoongi was famous for hating the business idea, so it’s easy to understand why everyone was interested. (For good reason, he thinks darkly to himself.)

“Damn, Yoongi-chi. Looks like you’re trending on the campus Reddit page,” Seokjin laughs, wheezing even harder when Yoongi points him with a murderous glare. “What? Like you said, this was all your idea.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask to wear… whatever this is!” Yoongi whines, tugging on the string around his neck. The cardboard sign had been ready and prepared the moment they arrived home the other day, arousing Yoongi’s suspicions on Seokjin’s actual involvement in his current predicament. Those suspicions are put in the backburner for now, however, as Yoongi actually feels like he might die of embarrassment instead of the packets of MSG coursing through his veins from the ten ramen packs he ate this morning. Maybe both will kill him, if he’s lucky.

“Well, I would love to lend you my uniform, but I haven’t gotten a t-shirt printed with your face on it yet, so you’ll have to deal with the kitten ears and cardboard sign for now,” Seokjin says, patting him on the back. “Or, would you rather I have you wear a shirt with my face on it? I’m open to suggestions.”

“I’d rather swallow a Tide pod, thanks,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth. “C’mon, let’s move. We’ve been standing in the middle of campus like street clowns for long enough. We need to find Y/N because her class is about to end.”

“Street clowns, huh? I guess you are only missing the make-up to complete the look, especially since you seem adamant to keep honking your way through that sickening crush of yours.” Seokjin nearly catches a punch to the head, but his superior reaction time saves him from Yoongi’s sorely lacking physicality. He snatches Yoongi by the hand, dragging them towards your lecture hall. “C’mon, clown! Let’s honk this bread!”

As the two of them get closer to where you are, Yoongi’s heartbeat begins to accelerate. He wonders idly if he should see a doctor after all this, hoping that he hadn’t actually contracted heart disease due to all this stress. Lord forbid that he meet his end before he even gets to ask you out or something!

Even though he’s already hugged you once (and it was, by far, the most euphoric experience of his sad, miserable life), he still finds himself getting clammy hands at the thought of seeing you again. Nevermind the fact that he looked like a walking circus with his get-up… No, Yoongi refuses to think about it anymore, lest his last remaining brain wrinkle irreversibly smoothens.

The campus clock rings loudly, signaling the end of another block of classes. Students rush out of the buildings, with you being one of the first ones out for a change. When Yoongi spots your head of hair among the crowd, he doesn’t immediately notice what you’re wearing at first. In fact, it’s Seokjin who stops in his tracks for a moment, surprised by how you look.

“Woah, Y/N! Looking good,” Seokjin greets, rushing past Yoongi to envelop you in a hug. (A platonic hug, Yoongi reminds himself. Because unlike Yoongi, Seokjin is a normal human being who can give hugs to anyone he wants because he’s… fucking Seokjin! Lucky bastard that he is.)

“Woah!” You laugh, surprised by the sudden hug. You pat him on the back giddily, allowing him to swing you around a little. “What’s this all about? Am I getting a hug-o-gram again?”

“Yes, you are. But not from me,” Seokjin detaches himself from you, scooting away to point at Yoongi. When Seokjin moves away, Yoongi finally understands why his hyung had said you looked good. No, that was an understatement––you looked [redacted].

(For the sake of the author’s fragile ash-coated heart, she has chosen to redact Yoongi’s exact words to protect herself from slamming her head against a keyboard from how cheesy this fic is becoming. Let’s just say the word starts with a B and ends with an L. Make of that as you will.)

You must have come out of an interview or presentation of sorts because you were dressed more nicely than you usually do, which is a pretty big deal considering how put together you always looked. Your hair is styled nicely, obviously given much more care and effort than your regular appearance. You’re wearing a cute little black dress, long enough to be professional but short enough to give Yoongi breathing problems.

If Yoongi’s brain had a playlist, it would be nothing but the sound of him going HNNNNNNNNNG on repeat.

“Oh geez.” Yoongi curses lowly, smiling through the pain. This is fine, he thinks, even though it is clearly not fine. Yoongi has always been a terrible liar.

“Yoongi?” You sound incredulous, though that’s honestly a win in Yoongi’s book considering everything. You didn’t look disgusted, so that’s great. “You look…” You stop yourself, covering your mouth to hide your grin but your amusement is palpable. At least he made you laugh, he supposes.

“Like a fucking idiot? You said it,” Yoongi snorts, arms crossed defiantly. He’s trying to look intimidating, but with his cheeks puffed up and these abominable kitten ears on his head, he looks more like a grumpy cat throwing a tantrum. He juts a thumb at Seokjin, “Thank this himbo for the outfit. I definitely would have chosen something more… inconspicuous.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You quip, still trying to mask your giggles. On the other hand, Seokjin was wheezing like a hyena, his phone pulled out and presumably filming Yoongi to add to his cringe compilation.

“Exactly what I said!” Seokjin says through his laughter, tears of mirth streaming down his face. He walks back to Yoongi, pushing him forward until he’s face to face with you. “Go on, then! We haven’t got all day!”

“I’m assuming you’re officially part of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram business now?” you ask, opening your arms wide to accept his hug. Like the beta male that he is, Yoongi has to be the one to follow in your footsteps, meekly coming closer to wrap you in an embrace.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yoongi mutters, tucking his chin onto your shoulder. He feels you vibrate with laughter, bringing a small smile on his own face. He likes making you laugh, always has.

With the cardboard sign serving as a barrier between the two of you, he isn’t as fearful of you feeling the erratic beat of his heart, though it wouldn’t be hard to guess if you looked at him. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy your hug rather than just panic through the entire ordeal like yesterday.

Soon enough, you’re detaching yourself from him, still standing close. Your arm is just a hair’s breadth away, and if not for Seokjin enthusiastically videotaping this entire experience, Yoongi might have closed in for another hug if he could manage.

“It’s always nice to get a hug from someone you like, huh?” You say, cheeks tinted a rosy color. The true meaning of your words flies over Yoongi’s head, as his feeble mind chooses to focus on your comment a little differently.

“I––Of course I like you! We’re friends, aren’t we?” Yoongi laughs nervously, unaware that he’s slowly digging himself into a ditch. To the side, Seokjin audibly slaps a hand to his face, body shivering with secondhand embarrassment from being blasted by the full force of how idiotic his friend actually is.

Yoongi sees you deflate a little, further confusing him. “Yeah, you’re right I guess…” You sigh, taking a step backward dejectedly. Yoongi flounders a little, unsure how he managed to fuck up in just a few seconds when you had just hugged him like your life depended on it.

Choosing now to interfere before the going gets rough, Seokjin steps in between and slings an arm around both of you. Yoongi groans under the weight of his arm, glaring when he notices that Seokjin had done it on purpose, but only to him. You don’t look too bothered by his rude gesture, albeit you were more befuddled than before.

“Hey, Y/N! I don’t know if you’ve ever ordered a hug-o-gram before, but I’m doing a special this week! Now that Yoongi-chi has so kindly joined the team,” Seokjin gives him a pointed look, to which the black-haired music major sticks his tongue out petulantly, “we’re doing a little promotion for first-time customers! Would you be interested in ordering one?”

Your eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “M-me? Ordering a hug-o-gram? Well, I…” you hesitate, sending a small glance at Yoongi before looking away in embarrassment. “I would like to, but I don’t know if it’ll be well received, you see…”

Seokjin grumbles, silently cursing the stupid shithead who caused his own demise in the first place. The worst part is that he had no idea that he totally just friendzoned you! YOU! Someone who was literally leagues ahead of him. He sincerely has no idea what you see in this bumbling idiot, but everyone with a brain knows that you have been crushing on him for as long as he’s been crushing on you, so perhaps you’re a little bit of an idiot yourself for liking him back.

Being friends with the two of you makes him feel like he’s constantly wearing a sloppy wet diaper, and he hates it. He wants to wipe his ass as soon as possible!

Seokjin shoves Yoongi away roughly, ignoring his indignant squawks as he pulls you aside. He takes you by the hand, taking you a few steps away from Yoongi, far enough that he can whisper into your ear without the other boy hearing.

Yoongi fumes from the sidelines, trying to keep his emotions in check even though he’s bursting at the seams with jealousy. Not for the first time, Yoongi irritably realizes that he does act like a cat, especially in moments like this. He might make fun of Seokjin for being an attention whore, but Yoongi is the same, if only at a smaller scale. He just wants you to look at him, as selfish as that sounds.

Can someone give him a break? He’s been holding in his crush for four years now… Imagine having to take a massive shit after drinking two gallons of milk while being lactose intolerant, except every time you line up for the washroom, the line gets increasingly long no matter how long you wait. That is the extent of his suffering, he tells himself. So please, excuse his dramatics for this one instance.

(Seokjin’s Note: This fucking jackass is SO stupid. If he only knew how easy it is to ask you out, he would know that his emotional constipation could be solved if he just fucking ASKED where the next washroom is. He could have relieved himself ages ago, but NO! And he calls me the idiot! Me! The utter betrayal! I’m never agreeing to become the second lead to a rom-com ever again!)

When Seokjin finishes whispering in your ears, you appear amused by what he had said. Yoongi sweats when you turn to face him, grinning slyly at him. “Is that so…” you wonder aloud. Yoongi feels like the world has shifted on its axis somewhat, though he still doesn’t know exactly how. He has a hunch that he’s going to find out soon enough.

“Would I ever lie to you?” Seokjin laughs that annoying laugh of his, slapping his thigh in the process. He straightens up almost immediately, his expression turning deadpan in an instant. “Send me the details by tonight, and I’ll make sure to deliver it, okay?”

“Promise?” You ask, holding a pinky up towards him. Yoongi might have let out a high pitched sob when he sees the gesture, wanting nothing more than to cup your hands in his. God, if he already nearly died from hugging you, who is to say Yoongi won’t immediately disintegrate if you were ever to hold his hand?

“Promise,” Seokjin replies, linking his pinky with yours. He doesn’t forget to point a shit-eating grin at Yoongi, for good measure.

You pull away, looking happier than you did moments prior. You were absolutely glowing, filling Yoongi with a warmth that only you ever knew how to provide. He wants to make you smile like that all the time, wants nothing more than for you to live beside him, filling his walls with the sound of your tinkling laughter. You wave cheerily at the both of them, stepping away to head home. “I guess I’ll see you, then? I’ll make sure to e-mail you my request, Seokjin!” you say, winking teasingly. “Bye to you too, Yoongi! Thanks for the hug!”

Yoongi watches as you walk further and further away as the usual melancholy that follows whenever you leave soon takes its place in his soul. It might be his imagination, but Yoongi thinks the cat ears on his head might have started to droop to match his mood.

The only way he knows how to replace the sadness, however, is by redirecting those emotions on an unsuspecting victim. Lucky for him, a willing volunteer is already within punching distance.

“Ow! Stop punching me, you gremlin!” Seokjin whines, blocking Yoongi’s series of punches like a pro. He might as well put ‘professional punching bag’ on his resume at this point. “I’m trying to help you, you useless beta male!”

“How is this helping! You made me wear cat ears and whispered blasphemies into Y/N’s ears! Now she’s going to order a hug-o-gram for her crush and it’ll be the end of my chances with her! How could you!”

“I was not whispering blasphemies, you twittering tit! I was giving her advice,” Seokjin sniffs, annoyed. “Don’t say I never help you, by the way. I’ve been trying to help you for years now.”

Yoongi hits him with a steely glare. “Really? So replacing all my clothes in my closet with clown attire is your version of help? I had to wear those stupid clown shoes for a week before you told me where you hid my clothes, jackass!”

“I was only trying to help you physically express yourself! You’re already a clown on paper, might as well help you achieve your final form!” Seokjin huffs, infuriatingly haughty. “Listen, believe me. I only told Y/N something that everyone already knows anyway, so just shut your trap and let Daddy handle the rest. You’re not going to lose her, I promise.”

“Please never refer to yourself as Daddy ever again,” Yoongi seethes, stalking off towards their car. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

“No talk, Yoobie angy…” Seokjin snickers to himself, following Yoongi with a spring in his step. This bastard is going to grovel at his feet by tomorrow evening, he’s sure of it. If he doesn’t, then Seokjin will bite his own dick in half––that’s how sure he is of his plan! (Not that biting his dick in half will do anything to his length; he’d still be left with eight inches, let’s be real.) All in good time.

x x x x x

Seokjin gets an e-mail the next morning, much earlier than any sane person would choose to be awake at. He groans lowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tries to read the contents of the letter. When he’s satisfied by what he has read, he forwards the e-mail to Yoongi before allowing sleep to take him once more.

Sleep evades him, however, when the sound of Yoongi’s big feet pounds noisily outside his bedroom. He hits his knee loudly against the coffee table, causing their beloved popcorn machine to tumble to the floor, but that is of little consequence to Yoongi right now. No, he needs to get into Seokjin’s room right now and scream––

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Yoongi hollers, slamming Seokjin’s door open. The hinges creak, desperately hanging on despite the impact. Yoongi proceeds to slam a fist upon Seokjin’s ass, who barely flinches due to the fatness of his ass cushioning most of the damage. He blinks blearily at Yoongi, but the smirk on his face is clear as day.

“Came to claim your hug so early in the morning? Well, I usually don’t entertain clients until after I’ve taken a shower, but for you… I’ll make an exception,” he yawns, peeling back his blanket and patting the empty spot on his bed. “Come on in, Yoobie Boobie… Let’s hug like it’s the last day on earth.”

Seokjin fails to realize that once he removed his blanket, he had inadvertently left himself vulnerable. Yoongi slams the heel of his foot against Seokjin’s groin, causing him to shriek bloody murder at 7 AM. He wonders, amidst his pain, whether this might be the last straw and that their landlord will finally kick them out after years of their stupid shenanigans.

“WHAT DID THAT E-MAIL MEAN? IF IT’S WHAT I THINK IT IS…” Yoongi threatens, but it’s as empty as Seokjin’s butthole. They both know the implications of that e-mail, even a toddler can put two and two together and make sense out of it. Anonymous e-mail or not, Seokjin wouldn’t just forward any hug-o-gram request to Yoongi, unless…

What did the e-mail say? It goes something like:

Dear Mr. Kim,

Thank you for offering your special promotion for new time customers of your Hug-o-gram Service! I’ve always been a quiet fan of your business idea, but I’ve always been a little shy to submit a request of my own. Thank you so much for giving me the little push that I needed to send my first (and hopefully last) hug.

I’d like to send a hug to Mr. Min Yoongi from the Music Department. I understand that he has recently been appointed an employee at your business, but seeing as how it’d be difficult for him to hug himself (while not entirely impossible), I’d like to request that you be the one to send the hug to him.

I don’t really have a message for him, per se… I’m still a little shy, even though you already told me that there is no reason to be. I want to believe what you said was true, so I’m pushing my fear aside and putting my fate into your hands. So, to Mr. Min Yoongi… “When I told you it was nice to hug someone you like, I don’t think you understood what I meant. A hug, after all, is a two-way street. They’re often served the best when it is reciprocated, if you catch my drift. :)”

Peace! :3

Regards,

[Redacted] [Redacted]

“Have your brain synapses finished connecting? Because if even this flies over your head, I’m sorry to say buddy but… You might have smooth brain syndrome,” Seokjin pipes up. He observes Yoongi’s brow crumpling, the first signal of his impending mental breakdown. If Seokjin remembers correctly, the next signal should be when––

Yoongi drops down to his knees, his phone clattering to the floor as he stares absently at the ceiling. Seokjin cringes, worried for the state of his friend’s frail kneecaps. The poor sap has bad heart health already; surely, it isn’t too early to get him a life alert button?

Seokjin scooches over his bed, dangling half his body over the edge to appraise his friend. “So. What do you plan to do now?”

For a moment, Yoongi remains silent. Eventually, he shuffles closer to him, perching his hands around Seokjin. The business student raises a brow, confused, until Yoongi pushes Seokjin back onto the middle of the bed so that he can cram himself beside Seokjin on his small double bed. He huffs amusedly, allowing the smaller boy to snuggle into his chest, though he still refuses to wrap his arms around him. Close enough, Seokjin snorts.

“I need your help, hyung.” Yoongi’s voice is small, shy. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Seokjin immediately softens. They might act like toddlers together the majority of the time, but Seokjin truly does care about Yoongi more than anything. During early mornings like this, when the sun’s soft rays are filtering through his sheer curtains and filling the room with a gentle warmth, it’s nice to cuddle up with one another and enjoy the silence. In fact, Seokjin would never admit it to Yoongi, but he got the idea for his Hug-o-gram service from Yoongi himself, back when the younger boy would be more prone to sneaking into his bed during his bouts of loneliness and homesickness.

Above all else, Yoongi is just a boy with a lot of love to give, so who is Seokjin to say no to his pleas for help?

“You know I always got your back, Yoongi-chi. Whenever you’re ready, we can do whatever you want. Ask and you’ll receive,” he replies, caressing his soft black tresses. Yoongi hums, smiling softly into his chest.

“Thanks, dude. For being… you know.”

Seokjin’s heart pangs a little, but he ignores it. Instead, he continues combing through his hair, humming gently. “I know.”

x x x x x

It’s been a few days since you sent the e-mail to Seokjin and you haven’t heard back from him. You aren’t sure if he sends confirmation e-mails to his clients as you’d never asked for a hug-o-gram before, nor did you know anyone who has. You are forced to continue on with your days like normal, trying to ignore the unsettling anxiety from creeping up your throat and spewing all over the sidewalk.

If Seokjin hadn’t been lying to you, then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. You’ve been harboring this crush on Yoongi for years now, and you never thought in your life that it would ever be reciprocated. He always seemed a little bit detached, a little too cool for you. Never mind the fact that he always seemed so jittery around you, like it was hard to talk to you or something!

Your answer comes on the last day of the week, after an especially rough day at class. Your back is bent, having finished a grueling four hour lab period where you did nothing but stand and stare at your reaction vessel spinning without any signal of change. You are just a little bit hangry from all the stress piling up on your plate, especially since you hadn’t eaten a decent meal since breakfast at 8 AM.

In short, life isn’t going as smoothly as you’d hoped for your senior year, but you can’t let the blues get to you too soon. After all, there are leftover chicken wings in your fridge with your name on it, and nothing beats your meat more than greasy poultry to end a terrible week.

You’re only inches away from sliding your keycard to open your shared dorm room when the door opens without prompting. You flinch backward, yelping loudly when your roommate Park Jimin grins slyly from the doorway––never a good sign, if you knew anything.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jimin says, leaning casually against the door like he hadn’t just scared the living shit out of you. He takes one glance at your disheveled hair and lightly sweaty clothes before grimacing in disgust. “Girl, I can’t let you meet the love your life while you’re looking like that. Come on, we have a few minutes before he arrives. Let’s get you freshened up.”

“I’m sorry?” You squeak, allowing your roommate to manhandle you into your own home. He pushes you into your room, depositing you roughly onto your unmade bed. You try to make eye contact with him, but he’s too busy raiding your closet to pay you much attention. “Excuse me? What did you say just now?”

“No time, princess! Your Prince Charming is on the way, and I’ve been ordered by Seokjin to prepare you for this life-changing moment, so get your ass into gear and change into this!” He shoves a clean pair of jeans and a nicer-looking blouse at you before proceeding to grab your hairbrush and comb your tresses with the gentleness of a mother tigress. You shriek when the brush gets tangled in an especially stubborn knot, but Jimin is relentless. He nearly tears your hair by the roots, ignoring your pained whines.

“Will you fucking stop! I have literally no idea why you’re acting like a psycho all of a sudden–” You shout when Jimin begins to undress you, having to kick him in the chest to get him away from completely eradicating your remaining traces of dignity. “Okay, fine! I’ll dress myself! Just get out of my room and fucking stay away!”

Jimin looks at you dubiously for a split second, before eventually acquiescing. “You have two minutes to get changed. You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, do you?” he says, smirking knowingly. He better dread the day that you finally wipe that annoying twinkle in his eye; it’s been a long time coming.

Left alone to your own devices, you do as Jimin says even though you’re still wildly confused by everything. To think you had been so excited to feast on your chicken wings, and instead, you went through a decade’s worth of torture within the last few minutes. Patting your hands on the butt of your jeans, you meekly take a step out of your bedroom, where Jimin is already tapping his foot impatiently by the door.

He motions for you to hurry up. “Let’s go! Seokjin says they’re rounding up the corner. Hold on,” he steps closer to you, raising your arm up to take a shameless sniff of your pits. “Sorry, had to make a pit stop. You can never be too sure,” he shrugs, disregarding your squawks of indignation.

“I smell fine! Now what are we–” Your sentence is cut short as Jimin all but carries you to the elevator, your shrieks of terror causing one or two of your neighbors to peek their heads out of their doors. When they see it’s just the two of you, they simply shrug their shoulders, returning to their lives like it was normal to see Jimin carry you in a fireman’s hold.

He doesn’t put you down until you reach the lobby of your dorm complex, barely out of breath despite having held you the entire way down. Stupid buff baby, you groan internally to yourself, straightening down your clothes in a desperate attempt to look decent. “Okay, we’re here. Who am I supposed to be meeting?”

In lieu of an answer, Jimin points wordlessly outside your building. A black car is parked on the other side of the road, and you can barely see a familiar head of hair poking out from the driver’s seat. “Seokjin? What the…” you trail off, before your eyes finally land on their target.

Yoongi stands outside the glass doorway, not dressed in his usual all-black attire. He’s wearing an outrageously cute pink shirt today, matching the color of his natural flush. He always looks effortlessly good, with his hair a little windswept in that boyishly cute way. Your mouth goes a little dry when you realize he’s wearing his famous leather jacket, the one that always got the girls and boys swooning when he walked past in them. You hated how whipped for him you were, not wanting to be like the weird kids in his secret fan club, but who can blame you? He’s just so…

You rip open the door, nearly tripping and falling over the short steps leading to the entrance. You grind to a halt in front of him and you’re acutely aware of how rabid you must look. Your chest is pounding, like your heart is begging you to step closer, just like when you had hugged him all those days ago. God, you were going to kill Park Jimin for this.

“Yoongi? What are you…” You take one look at him before your gaze drops to his hands folded carefully behind his back. It doesn’t hide the fact that there is an obvious bouquet of flowers behind him, though. Your face lights on fire when you notice they were your favorite flowers too.

“I’m here to deliver a hug?” Yoongi says it like he’s unsure of himself, but there’s a little coyness laced in his tone. His cheeks are painted a soft pink, and not for the first time, they remind you of freshly baked bread pulled out from the oven. Soft enough to kiss, you wonder idly to yourself.

“I mean… I did order a hug a few days ago, but I do recall not ordering one for myself?” you laugh a little hysterically, your breath cutting short when Yoongi grins softly in response. “I… Who is this hug from?”

Yoongi takes a glance back towards Seokjin. “Hey, boss. Am I allowed to reveal who the secret admirers are, or will that get me fired?”

Seokjin, despite being a few meters away, laughs loud enough for the whole street to hear. “Well, Yoongi-chi. Something tells me your resignation letter was coming in the mail eventually. Who cares about the rules at this point?”

“He’s right,” you quip, pulling Yoongi’s attention back. You’re smiling wide now, your hopes and dreams skyrocketing in your chest and blooming a garden in your heart. “Who cares, right?”

“Right,” Yoongi agrees, taking the last two steps he needs to get closer to you. He drops the bouquet somewhere behind you before finally, finally, embracing you once more. He kisses you gently on the forehead, the contact short and sweet.

You feel like you’re dying, but it’s all good because Yoongi looks just as embarrassed as you. But none of it matters, not when both your happiness is palpable in the air.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“This hug-o-gram is from me to you. Will you go out with me?”

You’ve always been a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. So when you lean in to plant your first kiss of many many more, he knows your answer well enough.

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wutheringmights · 3 years ago

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I just read the newest chapter and I loved it! ♥ ♥ ♥ I was wondering if you had some hcs about the engineer that you could share?

Awww I'm glad you like it! I just spent 5 minutes trying to figure out what "HCS" meant before realizing I'm a tired idiot who can't read lol

But yeah! I got some headcanons for the engineer/Spirits I can share!

These headcanons are a mix of things I generally believe for any iteration of the Hero of Spirits and a few things exclusive to CTB. It's pretty obvious which are which.

Technically this is slight spoilers since most of this is not mentioned in-story, but Warriors is a such a self-centered asshole that I'm not sure when I can get him to explicitly ask about Spirit's backstory lol

This got super long and kind of just became me talking about Spirits's entire backstory, so enjoy:

Spirits is sixteen during the course of Spirit Tracks, mostly because that was the vibe I got from him when I first played the game (I made him younger for CTB)

He's not descendant from Wind (who I maintain disappeared instead of settling in New Hyrule); instead, he's Aryll's great grandson

His family name used to be Outset, but when everyone who originally immigrated from Outset island took on that last name, they changed it to Aryll to reflect the family matriarch

So Spirit's full name is Link Aryll, though there is a branch of his family that uses Macaryll instead

The Aryll/Macaryll family is huge; everyone has at least six aunts and uncles on all sides of the family and they can trace back how they are related to Aryll

"I'm Grandma Aryl's third son's second daughter's fifth child." -someone Spirits is related to, probably

He actually never met his great grandmother; she died before he was born.

Spirit's dad was full-blooded Lokomo while his mother was Hylian; his mother passed a few months after he was born after never truly recovering from childbirth while his father died in a fishing accident when he was eight

He went to live with an aunt and uncle who owned a general store; their relationship was polite at best. The aunt and uncle told Spirits upfront that they intended to give the store over to his cousin when he was older so Spirits needed to come up with his own life plan

Spirits didn't necessarily mind since he never wanted to work in a store for the rest of his life, but the ultimatum made it clear that they didn't care for him like a son

To this day, their relationship isn't strained and he doesn't hate them. But whenever they meet, he's overly polite; they're more acquaintances than family

He's cool with his cousin though. They have different interests so they aren't best friends, but they're okay.

Spirits also always had his spirit-sensing abilities. It's really like a sixth sense to him, as normal and automatic as seeing and hearing; he actually didn't realize this wasn't normal until he was a little older

His abilities at this point are limited to sensing vague ideas of a person's spirit (if they're light or dark, etc.), and seeing ghosts (which are really rare. You have to have a lot of power yourself to become one)

(Note: I'm not the only one who headcanons Spirits as having spirit sensing abilities; if you know who can up with the idea, please let me know so that I can tag/credit them!)

The elder of his village told him that select Lokomo had minor spirit sensing abilities, and those who did were traditionally made elders of their villages; being more of a follower than a leader, Spirits adamantly dismissed that idea and refused to be trained on how to hone his spirit senses. He also never learned any of the religion behind it

Which was a little worrisome since his abilities are way stronger than most

Besides, he's always liked trains and it's been his dream to travel around the kingdom as an engineer; being some town's elder would get in the way of that

Anyway, Spirits had to pass a written exam before being accepted as an apprentice engineer, so he's very studious and has a lot of drive (pun unintended?)

He went to live with his Uncle Niko during his apprenticeship in another town; Niko isn't related to him, but he's been a friend of the family for so long that everyone secretly thinks he's actually related to someone and they just forgot who

Niko is his real family, hands down. Those two are as thick as thieves and bring out the wild side in each other

A preteen Spirits used to think Niko was a little lame and kind of embarrassing, but now that he's older, he's all for Niko's weird old man-ness and has even picked up on some of his weird old man-ness himself

That being said, they're both disasters. Neither can clean or cook or do any kind of housekeeping and their shared house is cluttered with Niko's art projects and Spirit's half-finished tinkering

Growing up, Spirits had no idea he was related to the legendary Hero of Wind; Aryll died before he was born, but even in life she was filled with too much grief over her missing brother to discuss it often. Within the family, being related to the Hero of Wind is a rumor at best.

Of course, Niko knows but keeps it a secret from Spirits; once he got back from his LU-adventure, Wind told Niko about the curse of the Hero's Spirit. Then he went missing post-New Hyrule's founding, which really drove the terror of the curse home. Niko thought he could keep Wind's family from falling victim to it by not inadvertently encouraging them to follow in Wind's footsteps

So Niko kept it a secret

And obviously, that didn't work

Spirits' quest to save New Hyrule resulted in him realizing that he needed to embrace his Lokomo heritage and get a handle on his spirit powers; Anjean gave him a little training during his quest but afterwards he traveled around the kingdom to find as many people as he could with abilities like his

They were all really excited to teach him what they knew, especially the religious aspects of the abilities; Spirits is still not the most religious person, but he at least understands and embraces the cultural significance of what he is able to do

This is where he learned how to read a person's Spirit to get an idea of their life experiences and the kind of person they're like; he can also detect where a person is without having to put much effort into it

At Zelda's encouragement, he also got more sword training from the Castle Guard. She offered him a place among them, but he turned it down in favor of remaining an engineer. He still helps around as a swordsman when he can and will act as Zelda's body guard

Speaking of which, he and Zelda are 100% in love. Their relationship started out as puppy love but over the years as matured into a deep connection built on mutual respect

When he's working on designing new engines or parts for his trains, he occasionally brings his drafting materials to the castle gardens so that he can work alongside Zelda; sometimes she falls asleep leaning against his arm and he has to be careful not to shake her awake as he works

Whenever she need to go anywhere in the kingdom, she rides in his train and teasingly criticizes his conducting; he takes a lot of pride in his conducting, but he lets her get away with it since her critiques are objectively hilarious

He keeps a tiny pictograph of her taped to his dashboard

But there's a bit of a problem with their relationship, and it's that he doesn't know if he wants to be the prince consort or not. He does love her, but that would mean giving up being an engineer in favor of being stuck at the castle all of the time

Plus, he's doing great as an engineer; he's saving up to open his own garage that produces his own train designs

Eventually, he leaves for the War of Eras

His experiences with Warriors leaves him more sure than ever that he doesn't want to be the prince consort, resulting in him ending his relationship with Zelda shortly after he returns home

It hurts for a long time to be around her since all of his old feelings keep coming back, so he keeps his distance for a long time; it takes a few years for him to go back to hanging out with Zelda as friends

But now she's approaching marriage age, and he spends a lot of time when he's on body guard duty super jealous of these princes and ambassadors from foreign kingdoms who try to court her

But again, he knows he can't be in a relationship with her so he respectfully and silently pines over her (I'm just a sucker for pining, okay?)

Okay, more random headcanons that are a little less sad

Spirits likes super spicy food, but since he can't cook to save his own life, he just eats whatever he can get his hands on

He's super dirty all of the time, just the epitome of scrappy; there's always a smear of oil somewhere on his person

He actually really hates bathing and only keeps his curly hair in check to comply with train safety regulations

He's really polite and a little shy, but once he loosens up, he gets talkative and personable

He's also very contemplative; he likes conducting so much because he gets to spend long stretches of time alone with nothing but his thoughts

His trauma/stress response is to shut down; he goes quiet, loses energy, and sleeps for longer periods of time

He tends to gravitate towards socializing with people who are older than him, which gets him labeled as being no fun by his peers (despite having someone as cooky as Niko for a uncle)

Post-adventure, his best friend is Linebeck III. They're drinking buddies. Neither can really explain why they even like hanging out as much as they do

(I just like the idea of Linebeck accidentally getting attached to one kid and his whole bloodline getting forever tangled with Wind's; they're bros for multiple lifetimes)

Not only is Spirits good at designing and building new machinery, but he's great at tinkering; he can fix almost anything and will buy broken things on purpose just to have something to fix

No one really knows he's a hero; he doesn't like the attention and, at his request, Zelda did her best to keep his involvement with Malladus a secret

Because not many common people know about his adventure and records of New Hyrule are very rare, he's considered in Warrior's time to be a forgotten hero; some scholars believe that a Hero of Spirits may have once existed, but if he did, no one really knows who he was or what he did to serve the bloodline of Hylia

#god this got long but i hope you like reading them anon!#I just have a lot of thoughts about spirits #so many thoughts #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu #lu headcanon #lu spirits #loz st #legend of zelda #spirit tracks link #zelink #ask #anonymous #me rambling #lu ctb #loz

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shorkbrian · 4 years ago

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Ooh i’m so excited rn omg...what i need rn is more of aizawa and villian!soulmate reader. They just keep acting like a brat until aizawa takes them home and punishes them X3

Prelude - shoutout to y’all for being so patient with me! appreciate it so so much. Also, there was like one other ask that I wanted to include here but I couldn’t find it, so rip. Also, @bbygirlpastel ty for the “Villain? I’ll show you a villain.”

Pairing - Yandere Aizawa X Reader

Warnings - dub con, non con, NSFW, overstimulation, no actual penetration. Creepy Aizawa, vibrators, uhhh literally nothing good here. Dead dove man, if you look at a dead bird and KNOW it’ll taste disgusting and make you sick to your stomach.... DON’T FUCKIN EAT THE BIRD. listen to the warnings my dudes!!

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/6p8eEdiZLKJH8tcjGZuNTK?si=9r_2kgkoR56h9UkBCybxLw

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Maybe he wouldn’t be this infatuated, this utterly obsessed, this angry with you if you had just given in from the start.

You weren’t even a high-priority villain, just some desperate nighttime thug that preyed on innocent bystanders. Snatching wallets, causing a ruckus, stealing from thrift stores or gas stations a couple of times a week. You were a nuisance, but not big enough to catch Aizawa’s attention - not until you stole a women’s watch right in front of him on the street while he was buying a snack from a food-cart before his shift started.

And yeah, Aizawa tried to keep a low profile, not flaunt his hero status in order to effectively capture and subdue villains, but surely you would’ve noticed the man clad in black, obviously sporting hero gear standing nearby. But you didn’t, and then he was grabbing your shoulder so he could drag you to the police station. Aizawa had been surprised when you wiggled out of his grip and took off, and damn, you were fast.

The game of cat-and-mouse had begun, and while the underground hero failed to catch you that night (and every subsequent night he saw you out on the streets) he was determined to do so. Well, maybe not /as/ determined. When it came to you, the man was easily distracted.

The clothes you wore were baggy, hid your form effectively. But if someone looked close enough, they could notice the curves of your body, especially as you ran, evading capture. Aizawa was loathe to admit at first, but it was tantalizing watching you flee from him.

He beat himself up over it. He’d always had a solid grasp of self-control, and usually he felt no attraction to his targets, even if they were wearing the skimpiest of outfits. One time he had turned in a villain wearing nothing but pasties over her breasts and panties (her quirk was seduction-based), and he hadn’t felt anything but utter boredom as he filled out paperwork at the police station while they found her some actual clothes. It probably had something to do with the “soulmate” quirk he had been hit with once, but Aizawa had never really put much faith in it, nor thought about it extensively. He had always had a bit more self control than other men.

So for him to almost have feelings for some low-life idiot? It made his skin burn with irritation (and maybe something else, but he wasn’t ever going to address that). It didn’t make any sense.

The fact that it didn’t make any sense did not stop his brain from plastering not-suitable-for-work thoughts about you whenever he ran upon you committing some minor crime. It was infuriating.

The satisfaction the man felt from finally pinning you down, taking advantage of a small stumble, tackling you down and pressing you into the cold concrete of the rooftop was probably unholy. It just felt so damn good, catching you, forcing you to submit, getting you underneath him. When he had flipped you onto your back, you wouldn’t look at him, just staring off to the side, almost as if you were ashamed.

You should be - stealing from anyone and everyone, being a brat, making Aizawa’s life difficult as you infiltrated every waking moment.

He had started to lecture you, starting out with his usual cool-headed,

unbothered demeanor, but slowly getting more and more annoyed as you still refused to look at him. Pretending he wasn’t there, refusing to listen - Aizawa felt the urge to slap you, just to make you react.

He settled for harshly gripping your chin, forcibly turning your head so he could look at your eyes. Eye contact was an important thing to Aizawa - it was the basis of his quirk, but he wasn’t prepared for the punch to the gut he felt when he looked into yours.

Words escaped him, mouth dropping open, his body frozen. There was - there was something going on. You took advantage of his pause, shoved the man off of you, took off running. Aizawa could do nothing but sit there, staring after your form with his own eyes wide and wondering. What had just happened?

He reflected on the moment for the entire rest of the night, musing over the strange feeling coiled in his stomach, the weird tug in his chest, his brain wanting and desiring and lusting and it was so distracting, he wanted it to stop, but at the same time, he wanted to indulge.

The realization finally hit him - the soulmate quirk he had been hit with, all those long years ago.

Some lady had come up to him while he was shopping, smiling at him toothily before asking him wether he believed in soulmates. He had stared at her for a second, before blankly responding with a curt “no”, turning back to continue browsing the selection of applesauce packets. A hand on his wrist, a burning sensation from his arm to his heart, and then he was rounding on the woman, ready to drag her to the police station for using her quirk in public without a license.

She had just cackled, citing something about soulmates and how he was going to believe now, he’d learn what it would feel like to find your true love when he looked into their eyes. Some sappy, romantic, crazy bullshit that he had ignored and promptly forgotten, before calling the police.

The lady had been deemed mentally ill, driven mad by the loss of her husband in a hero-based accident. Aizawa quickly forgot about the incident.

Aizawa didn’t believe in soulmates, and even if they existed, there was no way in hell that his soulmate would be a villain.

But apparently, the universe did not care about Aizawa’s opinions.

He tried to ignore it, turn a blind eye whenever he saw you sneaking around late at night, would turn and head the other way. But there was no denying the burning flame in his heart, the yearning to see you again, to talk to you, learn about you, what you liked, what you didn’t, where you had grown up, what your aspirations were.

Aizawa hated it.

But he couldn’t ignore it.

The feelings grew and grew, festering in his body like an open wound, infecting his mind, crawling through his veins and slowly seeping into every aspect of his life, until all he could think about was you. The man needed it to stop.

The cat-and-mouse game was picked up again, except this time, Aizawa wasn’t going to give you any opportunities to get away.

You were able to sense the change, could see the rabid look in his eyes when he sought you out for the first time since the night you had slipped out of his grasp. There was something different, and it wasn’t good, it was dangerous.

You managed to dodge him for a time, and some part of Aizawa swelled with pride that his supposed “soulmate” was so clever. The other part of him wanted to break something.

He was almost frightened by the change in him, this volatile anger, the impatience and the lust. That wasn’t who he was, but ever since meeting you, looking into your eyes, it’s what he had become. Maybe if he tracked you down, got close to you, spent some time with you, this needy feeling would go away. You couldn’t run forever.

Aizawa caught you during the daytime, when both of you were off-guard and not paying attention. It was luck, really, or maybe destiny or fate, that he had looked up to watch as passengers filtered onto the subway. You were wearing the same baggy clothes you always wore, hoodie over your head, earbuds in.

There was a backpack slung over your shoulder, and Aizawa watched you sling it off to place it in your lap as you sat down before the doors closed.

It was easy to follow you home, to the dingy little deathtrap you called your own, on the first floor of an abandoned, moldy motel building. It was even easier to follow you inside, through the broken window , his footsteps undetected through the blare of music in your earbuds.

It was less easy to subdue you, with the desperate fight you put up, trying to kick and punch and scream as soon as Aizawa’s thick arm circled around your throat. Still, the man had been subduing unruly villains for a while now, and it wasn’t hard for him to keep his hold on your smaller from, no matter how you thrashed in his arms.

When you finally passed out from the lack of air in your lungs, Aizawa gently followed you down to the floor, staring at you for a moment (god you were pretty, how had he not noticed how pretty you were?) before looking around the room.

It looked like a regular motel room, except there was no TV, there was signs of rot dotting the walls, and the air smelled decidedly unhealthy. He wrinkled his nose as he took it in - you would be much better living somewhere less unsavory.

Which, Aizawa’s home was perfectly capable of hosting an unwilling guest. Aizawa wasn’t naive enough to think you’d be happy waking up in an unfamiliar room, but he figures it would be better than jail. Like hell was he going to hand you off to the police, not when the ache in his chest was subsiding in your presence, the burning need for something lowering to a slow simmer. Justice be damned, Aizawa was going to be the judge, jury, and executioner in this particular case, and he had yet to decide your fate.

----

“You are insufferable - if you would just give in, everything would feel so much better. Holding out like this is illogical.”

He was tired. Tired of your stubbornness, tired of your refusals, tired of your insults, tired of the way his skin itched and blood boiled every time you spat at him or knocked over the plate of food he brought to you.

When he was met with silence, Aizawa sighed. This was getting old. It had been a month since he’d brought you under his roof, a month of holding back, a month of playing nice, a month of letting you “adjust”. But you hadn’t adjusted, hadn’t even tried, and he was tired.

“You’re only hurting yourself by acting like this.“

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to act like this if you hadn’t kidnapped me.” You spat, glaring daggers at the man.

Aizawa paused, almost humored by your spiteful response. “You would rather I have turned you over to the police? The prison system isn’t kind to pretty little things like you. No matter how tough you pretend to be, you’d be broken in less than a week.”

You scoffed, pulling at the chain that held your ankle to the wall. “As if this is somehow better. You’re a sick man, I hope you choke on your next meal and /die/.”

Aizawa gestured to the room, his patience wearing thin. “I could make it worse.”

And he could. He could take away the thin mattress you were sitting on, shorten your chain so you couldn’t reach the bare-bones bathroom, he could stop feeding you, or make you eat scraps like a dog. Of course, he could make it much better too, but only if you’d stop fighting him at every turn.

“I don’t even know what you want. You’re just an old pervert, you’re no hero. You claim to be good and just, but you’re no better than the villains you put behind bars.”

Within a second, Aizawa was crouched in front of you, gripping your chin, yanking you forward until you could feel his heated breath across your face, could see the tension in his eyes.

“I want you to behave.” He ground out. “I’ve treated you with nothing but civility so far, but if you’re so determined to see me as nothing but a villain, then fine, I’ll show you a villain.”

Aizawa was at the end of his rope. It was uncharacteristic for him to exhibit such anger, such impulses and wild feelings, but when it came to you, Aizawa felt like he was an entirely different person, ruled solely by his instincts.

With a push, you were sprawled onto your back on the mattress, quickly trying to scramble upright, ready for an attack. But Aizawa just watched, letting you panic before you realized he was going to stay put. Well, stay put for a time.

There were some things he needed to go get, to show you how good he had been to you, to prove that he had been nice and accommodating. But if you wanted to play dirty, then Aizawa could play dirty.

He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets, keeping his eyes locked onto your face. You were such a shy thing, barely able to hold eye-contact, always blushing and stammering and fighting when he made you look at him. It wasn’t his fault that your eyes were enchanting, drawing him in like a spell. If he could, Aizawa wouldn’t mind spending a few hours just watching you, watching your eyes take in the world. Of course, that was an illogical desire, but the man found he was having a lot of those these days.

You huffed as you felt him watching you. “You’re a creep.” The man didn’t answer, and you deflated, voice coming out small “Please…. let me go. I won’t like, steal stuff anymore, alright? Just let me go.”

Aizawa could bet that you were scared - after all, you were nothing more than a common crook. It’s probably the first time you’ve ever been held hostage, the first time you’ve been immobilized. You were probably used to intimidation, maybe even abuse - someone living in a rotted, abandoned motel and living off of what they could steal each day probably didn’t have a good story to tell about what had happened to them.

Either way, Aizawa didn’t really care. If it wasn’t for the tearing sensation in his chest when he was away from you for too long, he’d definitely have handed you over to the police by now. It was driving him insane, how he couldn’t focus, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think, couldn’t live now that his mind was constantly occupied with thoughts of you.

When he went out at night, he worried that you would hurt yourself, or escape - get away from him somehow. When he was at home, trying to do the “right” thing and give you space, not touch you, not invade your space, he was bombarded with the single-minded desire of holding you, feeling the warmth of your body against his chest.

It had to stop. He didn’t know how to make it stop.

Aizawa had tried everything, from leaving you alone, to spending time watching you from the other side of the room - the man had even tried to erase the supposed “soulmate” quirk he was infected with by using his own quirk in the bathroom, staring into the mirror. Nothing seemed to help.

He had tried to be nice, he had tried to be good. But there was still the tugging in his chest, the itch he couldn’t scratch when it came to you. He wanted to do so much, but he wasn’t a villain, he wouldn’t force you.

But there lay the problem.

Aizawa wanted to.

He closed the door behind him as he left your room, the “torture chamber” he had said once, deadpanned tiredly in an attempt at a joke. You hadn’t laughed.

The man supposed that this last month had really just been him warring against the dark, whispering corner of his mind that urged him to just take. To do what he wanted, to lay waste, to ravage you in every carnal way he so desired. To force you to lay by his side at night, force you to give him long, loving kisses, force you into domesticity.

Aizawa knew it was wrong. He had tried to ignore that part of him, push it down, focus on the logical solutions he could think of, the ones that kept his actions pure and heroic. But at this point, with you resisting so strongly? How you called him a villain, a pervert, a creep? Why not let the villain inside take a moment in the spotlight.

That’s what he was thinking as he gathered items into his arms from his room, spending hardly any time picking out what he wanted and needed. He’d had so many dreams, so many thoughts of what he would do to you once you finally submit to him. The man had plenty of ideas, especially now that he was deciding to throw his inhibitions out the window.

The fact that you most likely weren’t going to be willing merely meant that Aizawa added a spreader bar and an extra set of cuffs to the growing pile in his arms.

Stepping back into your room was almost thrilling, seeing your eyes snap up, to the bundle of items he held, then at his face. They were so wide, scared, panicked. It was a good look on you honestly, one that Aizawa didn’t mind seeing more often. He was done being the nice guy.

“This is entirely your fault, you know that (Y/N)?” He mused as he strode forward, crouching to set down a towel on the ground, slowly laying each item down onto it. Might as well build up your fear and anticipation.

“If you hadn’t provoked me so, I would’ve been able to be continue holding myself back.” He could hear your breathing pick up as each item was set down, had to fight down a mocking smirk. “You had to be a brat though, egg me on like that. Well, if it’s not apparent by now, you’re probably going to regret that.”

“Please, please, oh god, this-you don’t need to-you-there’s-“

“Didn’t you just accuse me of being a villain? I’m just trying to live up to your expectations here, isn’t that what you want?”

Aizawa finished emptying his arms, then headed towards you, holding the extra pair of cuffs in his hand. He caught your eyes, watching you beg, try to push yourself back into the wall, away from him. There was no doubt that you were terrified, practically having a panic attack as you hyperventilated, eyes darting between Aizawa, the cuffs in his hands, the items on the towel behind him.

It was easy for Aizawa to grab ahold of your already-bound wrists, pulling them down to the ground, right above the top of the mattress. Quickly, one cuff was attached to your wrist, the other cuff slipped through a small, recessed metal ring in the ground.

After you had…. “moved in”, Aizawa had done some renovations. The angle he had you trapped at now kept your arms stretched above your head, immobile and unable to move more than an inch in any direction. It’d be uncomfortable if you were left like that for too long, but Aizawa was still planning on being somewhat merciful today.

You were still babbling quietly, pleading with the man. “You don’t need to do this, please, please please please please-!” You sobbed out the last “please”, trying to wrench your arms free. Of course it was useless, and you were doing nothing but tiring yourself out, but Aizawa didn’t mind.

It was easy to attach the spreader bar to each ankle, despite the way you cried and kicked, ankles slipping out of his grasp a couple times before he could finally pin them down. Aizawa felt eerily calm, patient, but at the same time seething, excited, almost foaming at the mouth for what he knew was to come.

“Struggling won’t achieve anything, but feel free to do so.” He encouraged, shuffling backwards on his knees to look at you, stretched out body on display.

You were still wearing clothes, a thin t-shirt, a pair of loose basketball shorts - all Aizawa’s. He had immediately told you to leave your old clothes outside the bathroom door when you showered the second day after he had captured you.

You had resisted at first, but quickly relented when the man raised an eyebrow, shrugging his shoulders before advancing towards you menacingly. You had gotten the message loud and clear, immediately backing down, agreeing to wear the clothes you were given.

Aizawa retreated to the towel, swiping a pair of scissors off of it. Brandishing them, he snipped them twice in warning. “You might want to be still for this part. I don’t actually want to cut you, so if it happens, it’ll be your fault.”

And then he bent over, carefully snipping the clothes off of your rigid body.

As soon as the last shred of fabric fell away, you breathed in air, immediately letting out a loud, tearful wail. Aizawa felt a twinge of regret, but the quickly-growing bulge in his pants currently outweighed any other feelings he might be having.

Putting the scissors safely out of reach, the man let himself rest back on his heels, surveying your body the way one surveys their food before taking a bite. And oh, was he going to eat you up.

You were writhing, tears falling from yours eyes, still babbling out nonsense as you begged for him to stop, to reconsider, to think about what he was doing.

“I’ve thought about this plenty. It’s called fantasizing.” He murmured, before gently resting his hand against your naked hip.

You spooked like a wild horse, thrashing the second his hand made contact, crying and wailing, shying away from his touch.

Aizawa was glad he had the foresight to bring a gag.

You were so worked up, you didn’t even notice him grabbing it, didn’t register his hand clamping around your jaw, wrenching it open and shoving the ball gag past your teeth. You quickly fought against that too, outright screaming, trying to shake your head, pull away from the hands fastening the strap around your head. But Aizawa was quick, and good with his hands, and your screams became muffled, nothing more than desperate background noise to the defiling of your body.

Resuming his exploration, Aizawa cradled your head in both hands, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “If you relax, it won’t be as stressful for either of us.”

With another muffled scream, you turned your head, tear-filled eyes glaring at the wall.

“Or you can be a brat.” Aizawa laughed, a sound he wasn’t used to making. “Either way, it’s not gonna change what’s happening.”

Returning to the towel, Aizawa picked up the next couple of items, turning back to see you watching him through teary eyes. He presented the items in his hands, showing them to you. If you were curious, might as well let you see how he was planning to take you apart.

The second your eyes fell onto the lube, the bullet vibrator, the skin-safe tape, you wailed again, closing your eyes in horror, shaking your head. Aizawa breathed out his nose, humored at your terrified reaction. Not so tough when you were tied up, at the mercy of a man, were you?

Your legs were already held apart by the spreader bar, and no matter how you squirmed when Aizawa kneeled next to your hip, you couldn’t close your legs. When Aizawa’s warm hand ghosted over your stomach, you cried behind the gag, and when his hand made contact with your soft pink folds, you absolutely bawled, the sound loud and pitiful even as muffled as they were.

Aizawa wanted to tease, to feel all around, rub against your labia, tickle your clit, skirt around your opening. He let himself indulge a little, before pulling back, squirting out a dollop of lube onto his fingers. When the cold wetness touched you, there was barely any reaction, the way you were already panicking essentially making you loose all feeling.

That was alright, Aizawa knew that would change soon.

He let his hand wander around your entrance, massaging the lube into your skin, taking special care of your clit, your inner labia, the puffy folds. The man got lost in the sensation of your warmth underneath his fingertips, eyes slowly falling shut, a low hum coming from his throat in a natural attempt to soothe you.

The man didn’t know how long he stayed like that, gently massaging wetness onto your skin, humming, but by the time he opened his eyes, your weeping had essentially subsided. You were making cute little sniffling sounds, trying to calm yourself, your own eyes closed, limbs almost relaxed, as if you’d accepted your fate.

When Aizawa took his hand away to reach for the bullet vibe, you barely moved. When he pulled back the lips of your labia, nestling the small, ovular vibrator against your clit, you only flinched. He pinched your labia lips almost painfully, hiding the vibrator underneath them as he pushed it hard onto your clit, before taping thick strips over your skin. When he was done, the vibrator was firmly in place, immovable, covered almost completely by your labia, which in turn was held over the vibe with the skin safe tape.

The vibe was turned on, and Aizawa swore that your back arched so fast and hard he heard it pop. You writhed on the thin mattress, pulling at the chains binding your hands to the floor, trying to turn onto your side, bucking your hips, jerking and twisting this way and that at the overwhelming sensation. Aizawa had never used the bullet vibe on himself, but he’d felt the strength of the vibrations against his hand as he decided on a setting for you, feeling the tingly sensations through your skin through the tape, before kicking it up a few notches.

You were screaming behind the gag - Aizawa guessed you weren’t used to toys, but he felt no remorse. He put a strong hand on your hip, holding you flush to the mattress as your hips moved about wildly.

“This is what a villain would do. They’d tie you up, assault you…. Tear you down and exhaust you until you turn into a broken little cockslut. Aren’t I so much nicer? At least I plan on taking care of you after. Plus, I’ll still lo-“

He cut himself off, grimacing at the words that had almost slipped out. Aizawa wasn’t ready to admit that to himself just yet. He wanted to hold onto the allusion that he could resist you, that he didn’t need you, that you weren’t unequivocally important to him

Not like you were listening.

With a sigh, Aizawa sat back, content to watch you writhe as you wiggled your hips, the movement making your breasts jiggle slightly. Aizawa groaned internally, his erection straining, throbbing inside his pants.

“You’re so beautiful, your body is…. Indescribable really.” The man mumbled, eyes trained on your form. A sheen of sweat was covering your skin, making you shimmer, making you slick. Aizawa’s hands itched as he looked at you, wanting desperately to wrap around your waist, to hold you close as he rut against you. But he wanted to prove a point. He wanted to show you that he could be nice, that he had been treating you good, that you shouldn’t be a childish brat and shout insults at him every day.

But god, was it hard to just sit back and watch you.

He unzipped his pants, reaching past the waistband of both pants and boxers, hissing as he took his erection in hand. He was wet, leaking precum, but did he expect anything else? You were laid out in front of him like a feast, delicious.

You were so overwhelmed by the vibrator strapped to your pussy, you didn’t even notice Aizawa beginning to jerk himself off. It’s probably better that way, he figures - if you realized what he was doing, you’d probably have a fit. Your cries faded into tearful whimpers, long whines, which then morphed into guilty moans, enjoyment that you couldn’t hide. When you came the first time, Aizawa was watching your body, stroking his cock in time to the way your hips jumped against the vibe.

When you came the second time, hair a mess, Aizawa moaned your name a little, his own cheeks flushed with embarrassment and desire as he squished his thumb against the tip of his cock.

The third time you came, screaming out muffled nonsense, Aizawa couldn’t take it anymore.

He leaned forward, quickly undoing your gag, having to let go of his cock to work on the straps. When the plastic ball was free from your mouth, drool slicked over your chin, gulping breaths being taken, Aizawa surged forward, pressing you back into the mattress as he kissed you hungrily.

You whined into his mouth, naked chest pressed against his shirt, crying in overstimulation as the vibrations between your legs didn’t give up.

“Mhm, you taste-“ The man had broken away from your mouth, only to dive back in again for a quick taste before speaking again. “-so damn good.”

“Aizawa-Aiz-aah! Aah!” You keened, a fourth orgasm washing over you, leaving your nerves tingling, buzzy.

“That’s right, that’s who’s making you feel so good. You feel good, don’t you?” He pressed, crowding closer to you. He was in the process of pushing down his pants, his boxers, kicking them off.

“No, no no no, can’t-can’t-it hurts! Mmmfh-!” You moaned, back arching again.

“Don’t lie. Listen to yourself, you sound like a whore.” Aizawa chuckled breathlessly, turning you slightly onto your side. He was feeling hot, flushed, feverish. He wanted to do so many things - fuck you stupid, cuddle you close, give you warm hugs and kiss your pussy until you ground against his face.

“No I…. I don’t!” You yelped, the way he was positioning you pushing the vibrator into a different position. “Aiz-mmmm, Aizawa! Please-oh god, oh god-oh, please, st-OP!”

A kiss shut you up, Aizawa licking inside your mouth, feeling your saliva smear against his stubbled chin, felt you fighting against your bindings again. Where did you get all the energy?

He didn’t break the kiss to look down, to take himself in hand and guide his cock into the tight plushness of your thighs, right up against your dripping, messy cunt.

When he pushed forward, his mouth fell open. There was so much /pleasure/, he felt dumb, thick-headed and cotton-mouthed. You were so warm, so wet, and the vibrator was still buzzing away happily, pulsating through his cock as it rested against your pussy.

He wanted to cum, right then and there.

Feeling his thick cock pressing between your thighs, you wrenched yourself away from the kiss, whimpering as he pressed his cock up to chase the buzzing sensation, increasing the pressure of the vibe against your skin.

“Wait, ah, wait! Please, no more-mhmm! I’ll-I’ll be gO-od!” You whined, hips bucking again as the feeling built up again.

Aizawa thumbed at the wetness covering your face, trying to wipe away the tears, but simultaneously forcing you to look into his eyes.

“Shh, it’s okay. Let it out, I won’t look, there’s no need-fuck-no need to be embarrassed sweetheart.”

He reassured, knowing you were close to humming again. This time, he didn’t want you to have to finish alone.

With another gentle caress to your cheek, Aizawa grabbed your hips, before smoothly sliding his cock through your thighs, fucking right against your pussy. It felt incredible, better than anything else he’d ever experienced in his sex life - hell, in his entire existence.

Aizawa tried to hold himself back from humping against you, pumping his hips wildly, but he couldn’t stop himself. Not when he was so worked up, not when you were moaning and gasping in his arms, shaking towards another orgasm.

“That’s it, almost there, just a little longer.” He reassured, voice strained and almost cracking in pitch as he neared his end.

“I can’t, I can’t, don’t make me! Don’t-aaah! No, no, plea-SE!”

Your muscles tensed, Aizawa could feel it, your body pressed so tightly against his own. Then you were gone, eyes rolling back, mouth open in a silent gasp, brows furrowed as you were forced into cumming again.

It made Aizawa burst, feeling your thighs tense around his cock, your cunt convulsing, body trembling. He came easily, covering the inside of your thighs with his sticky seed, before quickly pulling himself free.

He had just had an earth-shattering orgasm, but he needed to get you cleaned up. After all, you had just had /several/ earth shattering orgasms.

The vibe was turned off, the tape gently pulled away You flinched at every tug, skin burning with sensitivity, all of your nerves fried and overstimulated.

Tape off, Aizawa reached up and unbound your hands, quickly throwing the vibe and extra set of cuffs back towards the towel (he hoped - his brain wasn’t working well enough to know if he was accurate or not).

Aizawa felt... good, warm inside. He didn’t want to acknowledge the feelings swirling around in his chest, the contentedness that came from just holding you, but he couldn’t exactly deny all of it either.

The two of you sat there, you lost in your own headspace (subspace? Aizawa didn’t know the terms.. but for you, he’d be willing to learn).

“You did so well, look at you.” The man breathed, looking down at your body. Fuck him, even covered in sweat and cum and fluids, you were still the most enticing thing he had ever seen.

You didn’t respond, just occasionally blinking at the ceiling, still as a mouse.

You were submissive and compliant for the time being, not struggling when Aizawa gathered you into his arms, cradled your head to his chest. His heart soared at the physical contact - you hadn’t let him do so much as look at you without yelling or snarking some mean insult. This was progress.

Aizawa kissed the top of your head, noting that the two of you would need a long shower in a bit.

You were so fucked out, Aizawa almost felt a little bad at your disheveled state.

At least he had been merciful this time.

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milkplusvn · 2 years ago

Text

Making Of: Soundless's New Opening

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Opening sequences for our visual novels have always been something I've dreamed of, but now, THE DREAM IS REAL.

Opening movies are what first got me into visual novels. If it weren't for (a misheard lyrics version of) Nursery Rhyme's opening (link)* appearing in my recommended on YouTube when my age was in the single digits, I don't really know if I'd be here writing this right now?

Because of that, I've always really wanted to make an opening movie for a visual novel I made. I've played around with various editing programs throughout my life, and unfortunately, it's been easier for me to comprehend timeline-based editing over node-based editing. Making a proper opening video with motion graphics would have been a time-consuming process and wouldn't have even been considered for Final Verse had it not been for a friend helping me get the full Adobe suite. Thank you!!

Opening Fanatic's First Opening

Now with a tool that I could easily understand nearly right out the gate (After Effects), it was time to get started on the opening. I always personally regarded Ramine's (link) 裏路地 (Backstreet) as the "main theme" of Soundless, primarily because it fits right in with the oppressive, industrial tracks that really make the Three Denpa Kings shine to me. It also serves as a rather defining leitmotif of Mercy's situation (or at least as defining as a free-use track can get). So, selecting it as the opening song was an easy decision. I cut it to a good opening-friendly length and that was that.

Next, however, came figuring out exactly what would happen. I took inspiration from both the opening sequence of Jisatsu101 and SayoOshi's demo movie, as well as the various Makki, shoujobyou. teasers that had been released while it was in production hell. I also wanted to continue the trend of everything in Soundless looking like it's part of a time period that's older than it actually is, meaning that everything had to stay simple, as if I were working on older hardware and software. This made things very easy for someone like me, who is, by all accounts, an After Effects newbie.

I wrote out what I wanted to happen in a Notepad file. Originally, two characters were going to appear on the screen at a time with less credits interspersed between them, but then I found out that took way too little time, and there was a huge gap between the roll call and the final sequence with all the CGs and quotes flashing by. So, instead, I did one each for all the kids and then a final double cardn for the adults, and viola! It fit perfectly!

Beyond that, it was a simple copy and paste job. The part at the start, too, didn't really take much thought or time. After Effects even has a cool built-in typewriter effect. I learned pretty quickly that you could edit smaller things in compositions and then drop that into the larger composition (I didn't try out precomp, though). The dissolves that resemble the in-game dissolves were done with the same images I use for those transitions.

Sorry to anyone who actually knows how to use this program efficiently for showing you this.

If I had to point out a part that gave me a lot of trouble, it would definitely be when the screen fills up with "No mercy for Mercy!" at the very end for a transition to black. Like I said, I'm new to this, and I also wanted to finish it in a day, so I just did it on the fly in a comp without looking up any tutorials. There was a LOT of copying and pasting and adjusting, but eventually, I managed. This part was inspired by the first scene of SayoOshi, by the way! What filled up the screen in SayoOshi was just "...!"

The photosensitive version was then edited in Sony Vegas, where I changed the contrast some and then dropped a dim over the flashy bit for good measure. This is the version uploaded to the YouTube channel; for those of you who don't need it, you'll be able to see it in-game when Final Verse releases!

This opening will also be getting an update if the 2023 art update happens. I think it would be cool if you could also toggle between openings that either use the new art or the old art when you choose your preference.

That concludes this issue. Tomorrow I'll go over modifications to the content warnings at the start.

*I didn't know this was a misheard lyrics video when I found it. It's only after I looked through my old favorites and saw it again a few months ago did I realize that's what I had watched all those years ago. I'm never not going to hear 切ない穴と尻 (painful butthole and ass) when I listen to it anymore.

youtube

#soundless vn #yuri vn #english visual novel #horror vn #vn development #Youtube

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ilovejevsjeans · 3 years ago

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Why '5/10' Ricciardo isn't giving up on his McLaren quest

“Oh, don’t make me do that!”

In a routine McLaren interview with selected members of the media, Daniel Ricciardo is asked to give himself a grade for his performances this season.

“From an on-track point of view, like a results point of view, I wouldn't give myself too much of a flattering grade,” he says. “But I don't want to say what I think! Because that just makes me sound pretty shit.”

After eight races, Ricciardo is ninth in the drivers’ standings. He has finished sixth three times, but never higher. In qualifying, he’s been knocked out in Q2 on three occasions, and in Portugal didn't even make it past Q1. Most importantly, he has less than half the points scored by teammate Lando Norris, who in 2021 has done everything to make Ricciardo's difficult adaptation as glaring as possible.

"On a more positive, on like an off-track grade, I'll definitely give myself a nine," he says. "Definitely, the results aren't through a lack of trying. And I certainly feel like I've put in the work.

"I think it will eventually come to fruition, and it will show. But so far the on-track stuff, I don't know… call it a five out of ten. I'm certainly wanting to improve that."

The start of the 2021 season has been difficult for every driver who's changed teams. But it bears admitting that Ricciardo's struggles are more notable. Sergio Perez has already won a race (admittedly in fortuitous circumstances) for Red Bull, Carlos Sainz Jr is close to Charles Leclerc's points total at Ferrari, Sebastian Vettel is having his renaissance at Aston Martin, and even Fernando Alonso after two years away is now regularly beating Alpine teammate Esteban Ocon.

These guys no longer need to find the words to talk about adaptation, a lack of mileage in pre-season testing and car specifics. They are facing fewer questions of that nature. But not Ricciardo.

"I've been trying to use different kinds of analogies to explain to – without being rude – the outside world, to try and get the words across," he says. "Ultimately, yes, I've been driving F1 for a few years and all the cars are… they're not the same, but it's the same category at least.

"But with some of the way the car is at the moment, some of the quirks and the way it likes to be driven, I'm basically trying to get good at kick a ball with my left foot. My instinct is obviously kick a ball with my right foot, that's easy. But now to really perfect this car, I'm trying to now learn how to kick with my left. That's maybe a good analogy."

Even if it is a good analogy, you'd think a driver of Ricciardo's race-winning calibre should have already figured out that left-foot kick – and he too is keenly aware that it's not a process that can go on forever.

"Once you can kind of balance it on this nice little knife edge, the car can certainly be quick," he explains. "And I think that's probably another way of putting it as well, is that it does have a bit of a sweet spot, but it is just quite small. And obviously, if you're outside of it, then you're not getting the performance.

"Even Lando is saying the car is quite different this year. And, you know, the tyres have changed, and most drivers seem to be commenting about that. And now the floors are narrower at the rear. So there's some changes as well, which maybe even if I was still in Renault or Alpine this year, maybe there would be some similar kind of comments or difficulties.

"But I've got to a point now where I'm also trying not to fill my head with it. It is different, sure. But it can't be different forever. At some point, this is it, this is the car I've got, and 'different' needs to become 'normal' and get on with it."

Ricciardo's difficulties are made more curious by the fact that two years ago he'd already switched teams, and his adaptation from Red Bull to Renault had proved much smoother. But with McLaren it's a different situation, he insists.

"I think, going into a new team, you're always going to have to find or adapt to something," he says. "And I would say adapting to the Renault, I was still able to adapt with a similar driving style or something that was more natural for me. Yeah, the car felt different, but I could still approach it with the same style.

"Where this one now, currently the car feels different. I think the Renault, there was some adaptation but also I could still kind of use my style, call it instinct. Where the McLaren, it's a little more detailed than that, I guess. I look at it as a positive as well, like in the long run if I can learn how to drive with a different style, then I have more tools in my arsenal."

The faster "different becomes normal" for Ricciardo, the better for McLaren. The team is currently fighting with Ferrari for third place in the constructors' standings and needs a strong Ricciardo to hold onto the position it claimed last year.

"I told them, 'I'll be half a second quicker,'" he laughs when responding to a question about whether his expectations of McLaren have matched reality – perhaps hinting that, if there is a side that hasn't had its expectations met, it's McLaren itself.

Yet Ricciardo's broad smile suggests that, for his part, he is satisfied.

"I think, from a team feeling and environment, like I'm very, very, very happy", he says. "I would love to think that they are also happy.

"It's just now really sorting the on-track stuff, and getting, obviously, the stopwatch going. I think we're in a position now where, yes, currently I need to drive this car better. But I think we also don't want to lose, let's call it my strengths and what got me to this position.

"There's also the two-way street of me continuously giving feedback to the team about, 'Okay, what you guys can do better to help me'. They're obviously trying to help me drive the current car, but I'm trying to help them get the car to obviously a happier place [so] that it's not like, you know, [me] overthinking every corner and trying to be with this style here and this style there, ultimately to get to a place where we can drive naturally.

"I think when you're free, that's normally when the lap time comes, so it's a two-way process now. The team has been great, and I want to give them more, absolutely. But I think they also understand that it's a journey. I signed a three-year contract with them. We'd love to have fireworks already, but we know that we've got time on our side to get it right, and go through the process properly.

"I think with McLaren, there's a lot of things I love. They tick every box, and there's always follow-ups. If I ask a question, if they can't answer it immediately, then, you know, I'll be sure to get a phone call or an email or something.

"And they're also very open-minded. There is some new faces in the team. But there's also some people who have been at McLaren for years and years, but they're also not holding on to the world championships from however long ago, they're constantly trying to be better, evolve, stay with the times. The mindset creates a really nice energy in the team and that's really cool."

There's definitely light at the end of the tunnel. Ricciardo enjoyed a strong drive to sixth in the French Grand Prix, pulling off some striking overtakes, while in last weekend's Styrian Grand Prix he could have finished higher than his eventual 13th without a short-lived loss of power that led to him allowing four rivals through on the seventh lap. And, all in all, Ricciardo did score six times in the first eight races of the season.

"It's funny, because I look at Bahrain and I outqualified Lando," he points out. "I think I was the only new driver to do it, you know, in the new team. So it's funny, you look at race one, you're like, 'oh, well this is, you know, a 10 out of 10'.

"But currently, it's probably been a bit of unfamiliar territory. Because normally, especially like qualifying, when I need to pull the trigger, so to speak, I can find the lap time – I don't want to say easily – but relatively comfortable. And it's certainly taking a bit more probably just conscious effort at the moment, so that's where it's been a bit more challenging. But yeah, although my score says 'call it a five' – and it's what it is now – I am uberconfident that increases as the year goes on.

"So panic not, my friends."

In the end, Ricciardo simply has no choice. Whatever it takes, he needs to make it work with McLaren, as it's probably his last chance to go for the title, even if right now it looks like a long shot. Mercedes and Ferrari didn't make a play for his services when he was a free agent, and there's probably no way back to Red Bull either.

If Ricciardo still wants to win the title, he's got to do it with McLaren. And he hasn't got that much time left either.

"I think it was Monaco 2016, where I was talking about my age," Ricciardo, now 32, says. "Now that I've got older, I'm in my 30s, I think the reality is I'll be in this for as long as I want, in terms of the age. At least for now it isn't going to slow me down, not in the next few years.

"If I'm still hungry and determined, I can keep that window open for the title. I'm aware now [a chance] to win five titles is becoming slimmer and slimmer. But still to win one, I think there's time on my side.

"The McLaren one is certainly where my ambition is. And I definitely want to see this one through hopefully with a lot of success." (X)

#daniel ricciardo #dan #articles

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aomine-ryo · 4 years ago

Note

Hey friend I love your writing so much and recovering from this surgery is being a real bitch so I kinda have a specific ask.

May I please request a fic where s/o is high and being really affectionate with Aomine. Like kissing and cuddling and teasing him. Just how he’d react to that❤️ (slight NSFW if you’re comfortable with that)

Ah this one is kinda short; but it was fun to write. Hope you like it!!

Scenario: Aomine with a high s/o

It was a Friday night and you were hanging out in Aomine’s house with a few of your friends. As with most get togethers, there was a nice selection of booze. However, there was also a fresh set of edibles that one of your friends had brought. Unable to resist a brownie that was sitting in front of you and also curious to try it, you indulged yourself in a piece.

“Oh this is actually really good. You sure you don’t want one, Daiki?” you asked, holding out your piece to Aomine, who was seated on the couch with his arm around you.

Aomine shook his head. “I’m not risking a failed drug test,” he said simply, not willing to sacrifice his ability to play basketball.

“Fair enough,” you shrugged as you took another bite.

You continued to chat with Aomine and your friends as you waited for it to kick in. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to experience, but you just let things unfold for themselves. At some point, you just lost track of what was happening though. You felt euphoric, that’s for sure, and you were more or less in control of your movements, but you weren’t exactly registering what was happening around you. All you knew was that you were with Aomine.

Meanwhile, Aomine was listening to you blabber about God knows what next to him. “Babe, babe, babe— are you listening?” you said, voice light as ever.

“Yes, Y/N, I’m listening,” Aomine said with a smile.

“So like, yesterday, I was eating dinner and—“ you paused for a moment and fixated on his face, narrowing your eyes at him. “Woah, you’re really hot.”

“What?” Aomine laughed at your sudden comment.

You moved your hand over to him, running your fingers through his hair as Aomine did his best to stop laughing. Of course, you found yourself giggling with him as your hand moved down so that it was now caressing his cheek. “You’re like, super hot— I really wanna just,” you stopped again, but this time to press your lips against his.

The whole room was now filled with snickers as your friends watched you all over your boyfriend.

And as much as Aomine loved having you all over him like this, he didn’t like being the centre of attention, so he did his best to pull you off of him— though he was smiling like an idiot the entire time. “Calm down, there are people here,” he chuckled, watching as you went on giggling like a child.

You managed to sit still for about two seconds before you climbed onto Aomine’s lap again, wrapping your arms around his neck as your legs straddled his hips.

“Those brownies make you awfully clingy, huh?” Aomine said, arms instinctively wrapping around your waist. You’d think he was annoyed at you by the tone of his voice, but he was actually quite enjoying the attention.

“The brownies were yummy— I want more,” you mumbled as your chin rested on his shoulder.

“How about not?” Aomine replied, not even wanting to think about how much worse that would be.

“Daikiiii,” you dragged on.

“Yes, Y/N, I’m listening,” he said patiently, noticing how everyone else was engaged in their own conversation.

“We should go to your bedroom,” you giggled.

“We have guests— why would you want to go to the bedroom?” Aomine questioned, though he kind of knew what you were getting at.

You pulled away from his body a bit so that you were looking him in the eyes as you sat on his lap. “Well, I want you to fuck me, of course,” you laughed, as though it should have been blatantly obvious to him.

Aomine’s face went bright red. It wasn’t that he wasn’t expecting you to say something like that, it’s just the bluntness of your words caught him off guard. Once the initial surprise subsided though, his face slowly relaxed into a smirk. “I think those brownies had something other than weed in them,” he joked, though he wasn’t opposed to a quickie with you since everyone else seemed to be doing their own thing.

“Come on,” you whined as you began to leave kisses all over his neck— ones that were sure to leave marks later. “I want you.”

Aomine sighed, he was admittedly getting quite riled up from all this affection you were suddenly showing him. He finally stood up, carrying you in the process by holding up your thighs. “I think Y/N has had enough for tonight, I’m just gonna put her to bed, alright?” Aomine lied to your friends, though it didn’t seem necessary as they barely responded anyways.

Once you two were in his bedroom, he shut the door behind him before laying you down on his bed. He crawled on top of you with a grin spread across his face as he looked down at you giggly face. “You’re so hot when you’re on top of me,” you smiled— at this point you had no filter. You said whatever popped into your mind.

“You are really something else, Y/N. Are you sure you want to do this right now?” Aomine questioned.

“Yes, yes! I want you to ruin me Daiki,” you grinned.

Aomine flashed you a devious smile before roughly pushing his lips against yours. Your hands roamed around his back as one of his hands reached under your shirt, the cold fingertips grazing against your soft skin making you hum happily.

The blue haired boy certainly wasn’t expecting his night to go this way. His tongue in your mouth, hand inching down your body and tightening pants— he just could help it. How could he ever resist someone like you?

#kuroko no basket #kurokos basketball #knb #generation of miracles #aomine daiki #kuroko no basket x reader #aomine daiki x reader #aomine x reader

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years ago

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Visibility (Good Omens Fic)

Written for Lesbian Visibility Day, 2021

(26 April, 1972)

“What did you szzay?”

Beelzebub glared at the empty space before zir throne, listening to a pair of feet shuffle awkwardly.

“I just…woke up like this,” Crowley explained, in what was probably supposed to be a casual voice. “At first, I thought I was coming down with something. Flu. Hangover. Allergies. All very contagious this time of year. Really, if you haven’t been to Earth before, April is – just wait at least another month. But then I realized, s’not going away, and I thought: curse. Definitely a curse. Probably one of those angels, thwarting and all, you know how they are.”

“An angel.” The Prince of Hell tapped one finger on the arm of the throne, swarm of flies flitting around, trying to make sense of what zir own eyes weren’t telling zir. “Iszzn’t that hideouszz pieczze of real esztate you live in warded?”

“Probably. You know how it is. Get home late, really tired, swear you locked the door, but…” The footsteps – echoing as those ridiculous heeled boots struck the ground – began to circle the room. Beelzebub didn’t keep many possessions – at least, not the material sort – but Crowley seemed determined to touch them all. “Anyway, you know angels. Clever bastards.” An ornate dagger on the far table began to spin. “Or witches. Not quite as bastardly, but they cause trouble. Oh, or a cursed artifact.” Papers began rearranging themselves. “I just…I haven’t been thrift shopping in years, you know, not really my scene, not anyone’s scene anymore, but I saw this really spectacular jacket, I thought, what the Heaven? Might have some age-old horrific curse, or bedbugs, but it’s going to look stunning on the dance floor.”

Pinching zir nose, Beelzebub tried not to imagine the foolish way she was probably grinning. “And by complete coinczzidenzze,this angel, witch or…garment, juszzt happened to make you completely inviszzible on the day of your department budget review?”

“Yup.” A selection of goblets toppled to the floor with a clatter, bouncing and spinning across the floor. One rolled as if kicked, but not even Beelzebub’s cleverest flies could locate the blasted demon who had caused the mess. “I mean, not just a coincidence. Plenty of reasons. Er. The angel. Just last week, that – uh, that Aziraphale, I foiled one of her plans. Thoroughly. Foiled like…like leftover chicken. So. This could be revenge. Very unfortunately timed, but you know.”

“Indeed.” Beelzebub rose, stalking from zir throne across the floor to the spot that most strongly radiated incompetence. “And the curszze breakerszz haven’t been able to turn you back?”

“I mean, they tried.” More footsteps, hastier now, so that the echoes made them harder to track. “Course they tried. But,” she clicked her tongue, “couldn’t do it. Said they’d never seen anything like it before.” Ze would have to speak with them. No, too much trouble. Beelzebub would send the Hellhounds to take care of those idiots. “But, they did say it should wear off in…twenty-four to forty-eight hours. You know. With bed rest. Pity about the budgetary review.”

“How szzo?” Ze asked, lip curling. Every twenty-five years, like clockwork, like the courses of the blessed stars, the day of Crowley’s review, something – something highly improbably – tried to disrupt things.

“Well. I mean. Bed rest. Suggested by your curse breakers. And anyway. Can’t go like this, can I?” One of the goblets floated up from the floor, spinning in an unseen hand. “Might be disruptive.Wouldn’t want to draw attention away from Dagon – I heard, she has some fantastic charts this year. Pie graphs. One of those ones with the dots and the lines. Look at this!” From behind Beelzebub’s throne floated a ceramic pot filled with tall green plants, three dozen flies happily flitting around the attractively scented leaves. “Is this dill? Excellent choice. I’ve been doing some gardening lately, too, and let me tell you—”

“I cannot imagine anything” Beelzebub snapped, snatching the plant out of her invisible hands, “that could make you more diszzzruptive than you already are. But it appearszz you can szztill szzee, hear, and – unfortunately – szzpeak.”

“Just lucky I guess.” More pacing.

“Szzo. Dagon will be exzzpecting you in…four and a half minuteszz. I’m czzertain everyone iszz eagerly awaiting your planszz for the coming quarter-czzentury. Dagon, at leaszzt, could probably uszze the…amuszzement.”

“Course. Right. Perfect.” The footsteps began to lead towards the door. “I’ll just—”

“Szztop.” Beelzebub’s hand flew out, snapping tight around the demon’s wrist exactly as she walked past. “The otherszz will need to szzee where you are.”

“I could whistle,” she volunteered, launching into something that sounded like a tortured bird.

The Prince considered ripping her arm off and stuffing it down her throat, but the last time ze did that, the satisfaction hadn’t been worth the days of cleanup.

“Juszzt put on a hat or szzomething.”

A snap of fingers, and a band of glittering silver cloth appeared around where her waist should be. “Better? Can I go now? I’m…extremely eager to start my presentation. Ngk. Everyone is going to be impressed. This – this decade is going to put me on the map.”

“Go.”

The silver band of cloth sauntered out of the room, echoing the moronic way the demon walked. Checking the dill plant for damage, Beelzebub lowered zirself back onto the throne.

Which had, inexplicably, moved several inches back, causing zir to fall onto the floor, the potted plant shattering. “Crowley!”

“Brilliant, just brilliant,” Crowley muttered, stalking down the hall towards the meeting room. She’d spent a week putting this curse together, combining ones from six of Aziraphale’s most obscure grimoires, and yet she still had to make her bloody presentation. “Next time, I’ll just give myself the plague.” That had almost worked in the fourteenth century. Just needed a more impressive plague.

Ahead on the right, a door with a piece of paper taped on it reading Temptation Department Budget Group Lambda. She hesitated, fingers hovering just short of pushing it the rest of the way open. Had Beelzebub warned everyone she was invisible? More often, ze expected demons to take care of such things themselves, on pain of pain. Two minutes to spare; might as well try.

Crowley dropped the silver belt on the floor outside and slipped through the partially-open door, transforming her extremely cool boots into a pair of quieter slippers. That, at least, she could do without being sensed; shifting the shape of her feet didn’t alert the other demons the way a real miracle would.

A dozen of them sat in chairs around the conference table, grumbling about their project proposals, miracle allotments, and soul quotas. An overhead projector sat at the front of the room. It was the one with the cracked glass, projecting a broken circle of light onto a white wall. Dagon stood beside it, shuffling papers.

Crowley could try writing dirty words on a couple of the pre-made transparencies, but that didn’t seem properly demonic. Scanning the room, she spotted the wheeled coffee cart tucked in the corner, laden with a coffee pot, Styrofoam cups, plate of pastries and various flavorings. Horrid stuff. All demons were required to drink three cups of it per meeting, and to eat one of the scones, which this time appeared to be…pickled herring flavored? With orange marmalade?

There wasn’t much she could do to make that worse. She grabbed a few anyway, tucking them down the front of her shirt, and dumped the marmalade into the molten coffee, turning the temperature up as high as it would go. She’d managed to grab a fistful of wet soil and some dill from Beelzebub’s plant. Most of that went into the coffee pot, a little into the sour creamer, and the rest into the alleged sugar – probably an artificial sweetener, those were all the rage lately.

What else? She stole all the spoons, then pulled off an earring and started poking holes in the bottom of the cups with it.

With the perfect sense of timing honed from millennia of avoiding one more second in the company of her coworkers than necessary, Crowley managed to slip out the door, put on the belt, and waltz back in exactly as Dagon demanded, “Where is the demon Crowley?”

“Sorry, sorry. Feeling a bit under the weather today.” Only about three demons glanced her way with some level of surprise; the rest just got up and headed over to get their first requisite cup of coffee. “You wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had. And the traffic! The roads just get worse every year. Anyway, here now. Ready and eager. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She snagged an empty seat and dropped into it, crossing her boots on the table with a heavy thud.

Dagon sighed. “Do I even want to know what happened this time?”

“Pissed off an angel. Utterly ruined her plans. Cursed me out in the most unbelievable language, and then, well, you see. Or don’t see.”

It was certainly true enough. Aziraphale had been very upset when the “fine dining establishment” Crowley had selected for their meet-up turned out to be the hottest disco in the city. And the way she managed to express her disappointment while technically not swearing certainly strained credulity.

“Did you kill her?” Ligur asked. So unimaginative.

“No, I did something much worse.” She’d dragged Aziraphale onto the dance floor and managed almost twenty-three seconds of enthusiastic disco next to her before the angel – now bright red and flustered – had stormed out entirely. “But, we’re not here to talk about me. Let’s have it. Numbers. Spreadsheets. I heard a rumor we might see that climate change graph.”

A general groan ran around the table.

“Shut up,” Dagon snapped. “Listen up, you lot – all you idiots, and Crowley in particular. Every one of you worthless wastes of matter needs to explain what you’re going to do in the next quarter-century, how that’s going to secure souls for our Master, and why we should waste any number of miracles on your pathetic hides. Until then—”

With an icy shiver, Crowley felt her miracles vanish.

“Now. Let’s start on the success rate of last quarter-century, and if I hear one word of complaint, you can scream it from the bottom of a sulfur pool. And don’t forget your blessed coffee.”

As Dagon started her presentation, Crowley watched the coffee cart. Someone had helpfully wheeled it next to the conference table, so the demons could more easily torture themselves. Seven managed to soak their shirts and trousers from leaking cups before the marmalade clogged the pot entirely. That, however, would never be enough to cancel the meeting. Heaven, a few of them even said it tasted better than usual. Should have seen that coming.

Still. It was a start.

Crowley played with her earring, then grinned, thinking of a possibility.

“Ow!” she shouted dramatically. “Something bit me!”

“Wasn’t me,” Hastur said sullenly.

“W—no, I mean. Some kind of insect.”

“Don’t see one,” grunted another demon called Krang, sitting right beside Crowley.

“It’s right there!” Silence. Oh, right, no one could see her pointing. “There! On the coffee pot!”

Eyes narrowing, Krang leaned forward, glaring across the table at the pot, which was rattling slightly. Crowley jabbed them in the back of the neck with her earring.

“Arg! It got me!” Krang slapped at the spot, leaping out of their chair. “Did you see where it went?”

“There! On Hastur’s head!”

“Where—?” Hastur managed before Ligur swatted him so hard he fell out of his chair.

“Ah, shit!” Crowley shouted. “It got me again! No, wait, I think it’s a different one.” The demons anxiously glanced at each other, but no one else stood up. Not enough. “Oh, no! My…my hand!” Crowley tried to think of something suitable “It’s burning! Like Holy Water!” She jabbed the earring into the arm of the demon on her other side.

“Bloody—It got me too!” He was on his feet in an instant. “I can feel it burning already!”

“And me!” That demon wasn’t even near Crowley. She grinned. It was working.

“What are these things?”

“I can feel it crawling on my leg.”

“My neck is swelling up!”

“Sit down!” Dagon snapped, baring her teeth. “I don’t want to hear another word about bloody insects. You’re demons. Act like it! Or I’ll make it four cups.”

The room froze – silent, apart from the now-continuous rattle of the coffee pot – as a dozen demons weighed the fear of some sort of terrifying unseen holy insect versus drinking more of the vile brew.

So Crowley ripped a handful of scone out of her top and crumbled it. “What – my hair!” She tossed the crumbs across the table. “Are – are those larvae?”

Everyone shuffled back a few steps.

“I don’t think you heard me—” Dagon started, in a tone that suggested Crowley was about to lose the room. So she went all in.

“Oh, Satan!” She shouted, falling dramatically from her chair. “They’re – they’re crawling into my ears!” That earned a few nervous glances, so she took a deep breath and gave her best horror-movie scream. “That angel! She did something to me!”

“Crowley!” Dagon shouted. “Stop acting out right now,or I swear to Satan, I’ll—”

She never found out what Dagon wanted to do to her, though, because at that moment the coffee pot exploded, lid flying off, scalding brown liquid splashing in every direction, along with blobs of now-runny marmalade.

Never one to let an opportunity go by, no matter how unexpected, Crowley cried, “Eggs! They’re nesting in the coffee! Who drank that?”

A perfect panic set in, and there was nothing Dagon could do to stop all the demons – including Crowley – from evacuating the room.

In the confusion that followed, everyone lost track of a certain invisible demon. How sad. And totally unexpected, Crowley thought, climbing into the Bentley. Too bad I kept the radio off and didn’t go to the cinema. Otherwise, they could summon me back. If she were careful, she could have days to finish coming up with her proposal.

But first, a little fun. Grinning, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, wondering what kind of trouble she could get into next.

Well. One way to find out.

The London police were extremely disappointing that morning. It took nearly eight minutes of driving around at top speed, running red lights, and blaring her horn outside rich-looking homes before one finally started chasing her.

Slamming into top gear, she raced down the busiest streets, whipping around corners, weaving through traffic, making sure not to get too far ahead. The second patrol car joined in somewhere near Oxford Street, the third during a quick jaunt up towards Regent’s Park. When she’d collected four, sirens blaring as they struggled to keep up with her flawless driving, she spotted a side street and lurched into it with a complicated 270-degree-spin finished with the nose of the Bentley facing the approaching cars.

Then she settled back in her seat and waited.

The black monstrosity finally slid to a stop. Officer Mills kept her eyes on it while her partner slowed their own car to a stop.

“We sure he’s not just going to run?” She asked, trying to spot the driver. The glare off the windshield must be playing tricks on her eyes; she couldn’t see a thing.

“We surround it,” Harmon said. “Got to be enough of us, even if they try to make trouble.”

Six officers eased out of their cars, silently trying to decide who should approach the window. Mills won – or lost – and took the lead, Harmon close behind her. He was the only one armed; she felt a little better for that, in case the driver turned out to be dangerous, though most likely she figured he would try to plow through the police cars to get away. They couldn’t do much in that case apart from try to kick the tires in passing.

“Think it’s stolen?” Harmon asked as a few others moved to try and block the street beyond the idling nightmare. “Teenagers messing around?”

“Could be,” Mills said doubtfully. “It’s vintage, though. Really old. And whoever was driving knows what they’re doing.”

Anderson waved from the far side of the vehicle. Everyone was in position. Mills nodded and walked up to the window, prepared for a lunatic – or a drunk – or someone on an awful lot of drugs.

Instead, it was completely empty.

“What…” She glanced back at Harmon. “No one. Did he bail out?”

“We’d have seen. Check the back seat.”

“Nothing. Wait. There’s…a tin of biscuits. That’s all.”

Down the street, Anderson crouched, checking underneath. Nothing there, apparently. Slowly, the police approached, one by one relaxing as they confirmed that yes – the car was empty.

The driver side window was open. Mills stuck her head in, glancing up and down. Nothing. No sign of what had happened to the driver. The engine still gently rumbled, and the door was locked. She definitely would have noticed if someone had stayed there long enough to lock it through the window.

“I’ll call to have it towed,” Harmon said, stepping back. She could hear the confused frown in his voice. “Maybe we’ll find…something…when we search it.”

By this point, even the officers who had waited in the patrol cars had joined them, crowded along the sides of the black vintage monster, testing doors and peering through windows. Mills leaned in to unlock the driver side door. “But where could he have gone?”

“She,” a soft voice said near Mills’s ear, and something tapped against her nose. “And I haven’t gone anywhere.”

Mills stumbled back as the radio burst to life.

You know the day destroys the night Night divides the day…

Everyone spun in place, looking for the source of the music from a nearby window or door, shouting at shadows, so only Mills was watching as the pedals and gear stick moved themselves.

Tried to run Tried to hide Break on through to the other side Break on through to the other side…

The ghost car – what else could she be? – shot backwards up the street, faster than should have been possible, spun a full 360-degree turn, then straightened up and drove away, blending into traffic with a cheerful toot of the horn.

Mills finally blinked.

“Harmon?” She called. “You do the paperwork on this one. I need a drink.”

Crowley danced in her seat far more than she usually would, but for once no one could see her.

Made the scene Week to week Day to day Hour to – Crowley!

She nearly slammed on the brakes as Jim Morrison began to sound an awful lot like Dagon. Shit. Forgot about that.

“Ahhhh…speaking?”

“Who, exactly, gave you permission to leave?”

“Oh. Ahhh.” She glanced out the window at a row of businesses and pulled over in front of some kind of barber shop. “I thought, what with all the insects—”

“There were no insects!”

“There weren’t?” Crowley really needed to work on her innocent voice. “I must be hallucinating. Better go home and lie down until it passes.”

“Crowley. Your budget proposal is due by the end of the day. Do you want to be stranded up there without miracles? Do you know what we do to demons who fail to meet their quotas?”

She knew that. She’d been told, several times, exactly what to expect. “Nnnnnh…I’ve got – it’s going to be a big project. Very big. More souls than…than wasps have larvae. Just need to work on my proposal in a secure, bug-free location.”

“Crowley! Do you think for one second—”

“Ah! They’re coming out of the radio!” Crowley cut the sound.

She sat in the Bentley, tapping her fingers on the wheel.

I just hung up on Dagon. They’re going to kill me. Worse, they’re going to send me down to file in the archives for a thousand years.

Then again, they’d have to find her first.

And, she was finding, her current state presented the kind of temptations even a demon couldn’t ignore…

Graham Palmer had been trying to get into the barber shop for twenty minutes.

The door was stuck fast. No matter how he rattled and pulled, it wouldn’t budge, as if something enormous had pinned it shut. And yet, every time he stepped back to let other patrons try, the door opened easily, but slammed as if pulled shut whenever he approached. He even tried slipping through behind another customer, but then it stayed shut until Graham stepped back. There was just no way in.

Now he hammered on the window, trying to get his barber’s attention. “Stuart! Stuart! What the hell are you trying to pull?”

The barber looked up from his current customer, blinking in confusion, and jerked his head towards the door.

“I tried that, it doesn’t bloody work!” A young man half his age walked past, giving Graham a funny look, and pulled open the shop door. Graham dove to follow him, but again it snapped shut, almost catching his nose. He pounded the door with his fist, glaring at the customers inside. “I’m going to be late!”

Across the shop, Stuart put down his scissors and shouted something. All Graham caught was “…break my glass…”

There was an idea.

He crossed the pavement to where an ancient black car was parked, removing his jacket. Wrapping it around his arm for protection, he charged forward, bracing himself for impact.

The door swung open in front of him and before he could stop himself, Graham tripped over – something – there didn’t appear to be anything – and sprawled on his face, sliding across the linoleum floor.

“Watch yourself, dearie,” a cheerful woman’s voice said, but when he looked up, no one was there.

Crowley strolled around the park, her new domain, another time.

Over there, at the edge of the path, was the Strange Chill area. Anyone who paused there, perhaps studying the slightly askew sign that seemed to indicate the exit was in the fountain, would feel a touch on their shoulder, a tickle on the back of their neck, or hear heavy breathing with no source.

Over here, near the ice cream cart, was the Creepy Bush. Originally just generic ghost noises, Crowley eventually discovered what really freaked humans out was a disembodied voice whispering their name, or something they’d said in private a few minutes before. She followed strolling couples around, listening in on anything good, and when one stopped to by the other ice cream, just really let loose on the one standing by the bushes. They usually started clinging much more closely to their partner after that, so really, Crowley was doing them a favor. Instant relationship counseling.

Across from the fountain sat the Haunted Bench. Crowley really went wild with that one. Children’s songs in a creepy voice. Branches shaking with no wind. Possessions floating away from wherever they’d been set down. Really, anything was allowed.

The narrow path leading through the tulips was the Asshole Road. Anyone Crowley caught being an asshole in her park was subtly sent that direction, pickpocketed, and then beset by bees, or at least a very convincing humming and a few pricks from an invisible earring.

The fountain itself was Rare Coins and Lost Items. Her third pickpocket victim had been carrying a tube of very powerful epoxy, and it turns out the coin-stuck-to-the-sidewalk trick was even better when you glued it underwater. A few pieces of jewelry at the bottom were also glued in place, but most of the valuables were simply tossed in or – if they weren’t waterproof – hung from the sculpture of frolicking animals in an amusing way. Crowley mostly just kept the cash, and even then only if the Assholes had been particularly cruel. So far, she’d accumulated almost five hundred pounds.

It was either the best park in London, or the worst.

She leaned against the clock – now set forty-eight and a half minutes slow – and surveyed the chaos. Two teenagers were frantically trying to get something out of the fountain, while the Asshole who’d sworn at that lovely gay couple was now soaked through, desperately trying to get his watch back from the ear of a sculpted rabbit seven feet high. That had been hard to get into place, but certainly worth it. The couple, meanwhile, were hand-in-hand, clutching ice creams and hurrying away from what had been for them the Creepy but Oddly Affirming Bush. The lady with the dog that had made a mess by the roses was trying to report the Haunted Bench to a cop, who tiredly insisted it was her lunch break and that the lady would not believe the morning she’d had.

Crowley grinned up at the sky. This – this was what it was all about. Forget budget meetings and presentations. Who did that make miserable, apart from the demons themselves? This park had everything: temptation, fear, frustration, justice, ice cream, and perfect weather.

“Hey. Hey you feathered wankers,” someone shouted, followed by the sound of rattling pebbles and angry quacking.

Tipping down her invisible shades, Crowley spotted some young idiot chucking handfuls of rocks at the ducks. Most were fleeing, but one flapped her wings, panicked and possessive, over a nest. One of the eggs had already been broken.

Looks like another volunteer for Asshole Road. Crowley was already eying their watch.

Every bakery has that one customer. Probably every place that sold food.

The one that demands impossible standards, not because of any particular love of fine cuisine, but just because they can.

The one that counts the blueberries in their muffin and lets you know if there aren’t enough.

The one who spends five minutes shouting, “No, not that one, that one,” while providing no other information, until their server had touched everything in the display case.

The one who complains that their brownie is too chocolatey.

The customer who somehow gets away with murder on account of being someone’s spouse, or sibling, or old school friend.

Victoria Lockwood was that customer, and as Riley watched her approach, they held their breath in trepidation.

“This scone,” she snapped, dropping her plate onto the counter, “is not right.” Then she glared at Bailey, waiting for a response.

“Is it…” Bailey’s mind raced, trying to work out what might be wrong. “The wrong flavor?” Victoria’s face only darkened. “Um. Is – is it dry?” But most of that batch had sold without a single complaint. “Did you want…more lemon curd? Or—”

“It is not hot enough.”

“Ah.” Of course. They’d taken that batch out nearly an hour ago; the next was ready to go in. “If you’re willing to wait, um…twenty minutes? I can give you the first—”

“Twenty minutes? What kind of service is that? I want my scone now.” She glanced at the tray coming out of the oven. “Why are you making me wait? What are those?”

Bailey glanced back and relaxed for a moment. “Oh – yes, I can get you one right now. They’re Raspberry Almond Butterm—”

“Disgusting!” Victoria rapped her hand against the counter. “That is not what I ordered! I demand you warm this one up, immediately.”

“I…” Bailey glanced at their coworkers, but everyone was avoiding eye contact. “That’s…I can put it back in the oven but that would probably dry—”

“Fine.” She shoved the plate towards them. “Be quick about it, young lady, I don’t like to wait.” She clearly noticed the way Bailey flinched. “If you don’t want to be mistaken for a girl, I suggest you get a proper haircut. And not that hideous shade of pink.”

“Y’s ma’am,” Bailey muttered, because some arguments would never be worth it. They took back the scone and put it on a baking tray. Maybe if it was only in the oven for a minute or two—

“Victoria Lockwood!” Bailey spun around, searching for who had called out. Not anyone else behind the counter, they all had their heads ducked, concentrating on some other tasks. But there – on the counter – a scone sat on Victoria’s plate.

She looked up from her makeup compact, smiled triumphantly, and took a bite out of it.

Her face immediately went green, and she dropped plate and pastry, running out of the bakery faster than Bailey had ever seen anyone move. They rushed forward, ready to call after her, but very much not wanting to, and picked up the discarded scone – it smelled awful, like vinegar and fish.

There was also an enormous wad of banknotes on the counter, wrapped up in a scrap of paper with a note: Kid – Don’t take that shit from anyone. Flip off your boss when you quit. <3 C

The bakery door opened and shut on its own.

Well, there was an entire day’s pickpocketing gone in a moment, but it wasn’t like Crowley had a better use for it. She still had a few rare coins, but after the fountain, sticking them to the ground seemed an anticlimax. She’d had some fun modifying the haunting routine for the bus or Underground, but both would be filled with commuters now a ghost that swears when you elbow her in the ribs on a crowded train is…not as impressive.

Still. Not a bad day overall. The most expensive foods in the corner marked had all been re-priced, several examples of hostile architecture had been mysteriously destroyed, enough people would be sharing stories of “hauntings” that the whole city would need to be exorcised, and – just for the Heaven of it – she’d followed a particularly annoying human for almost an hour, up and down the streets, buzzing in his ear.

Really, it was the simple pleasures that made the world so enjoyable.

And speaking of simple pleasures, Crowley had left one particular part of the city for last.

Strolling down the streets of Soho, which was just waking up while more respectable – but far less fun – parts of the city were winding down, she kept her eyes open for anyone who might make a good target. A few possibilities presented themselves, but in the end her destination proved the stronger draw.

A. Z. Fell’s Bookshop.

It was just the right time of day, when the customers would still be bothering Aziraphale, and she would be running short of patient ways to refuse them and start turning to biting sarcasm and, on occasion, outright threats. She’d probably appreciate a little haunting to help chase them off, once Crowley had finished stealing her cocoa, moving her bookmarks, and changing the record in the gramophone.

But, glancing in the window, Crowley saw something that poured cold water all over her brilliant day.

Gabriel.

Michael and Uriel, too. Probably Sandalphon lurking around.

Aziraphale stood before her bosses, hands clutched anxiously, that eager, ready-to-please face that made Crowley’s chest ache. Some, when faced with the beings who had hurt them so many times, became afraid, or angry, or distressed. But Aziraphale…just wanted approval. A kind word.

Crowley glared at Gabriel. The Heaven are you up to this time?

For once, she would be able to find out.

“And, I really think,” Aziraphale said, hands twisting like captured rodents as she rambled, “that this past decade in particular,I’ve – I’ve accomplished many things. Um. I – I prepared a list…somewhere…” her eyes darted to the disaster she called a desk, and she started shifting material objects around, smiling nervously. Guiltily.

“Is this going to take long?” Gabriel asked with a pointed sigh.

“No! I just…one moment…”

“We’re already running late,” Uriel commented. “We’d expected you to be better prepared.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale snatched up a book and began flipping through it frantically, as if it might contain the answers she needed. “Only, ah, you didn’t actually say when you would be coming…”

“We did say between the 3rd of January and 28th of October,” Michael pointed out reasonably.

“Oh. Um. I…”

“Something doesn’t seem…right,” Sandalphon said, stepping close to Aziraphale, putting a hand on her shoulder. The book she held tumbled from her fingers. “This whole place has a…smell about it.”

The door slammed behind them. Gabriel glanced back, but couldn’t see it from where he stood. Sandalphon gave Aziraphale’s shoulder another squeeze, then headed over to check on it.

“I thought,” Gabriel said slowly, making sure the slow-witted Principality heard every word, “I told you to lock the door.”

“It was.” Aziraphale’s eyes had gone wide. “I – I mean I did.”

Gabriel pursed his lips and shook his head. This had been a particularly disappointing review. Disappointing in the sense that their agent had once again conclusively failed to present evidence of meaningful victories towards Heaven’s cause. Less disappointing in that, whether she knew it or not, Aziraphale had already given him what he needed to take the arrogant fool down a few pegs.

In six thousand years, she’d barely managed to do a single thing right, yet somehow always came to him simpering and smiling like she deserved all the accolades of Heaven. Well, he’d been patient, as suited an Archangel, as patient as he could. But once per century, he had the opportunity to make his opinion perfectly clear.

Take away her miracles for a start, he thought. Though that didn’t seem to work nearly as well as it had a few centuries ago. Maybe recall her to Heaven for a year or two, re-educate her on the basics of her duty. There might be enough for a period of isolation. With restraints. They’d done that once, about three thousand years before, after a particularly poor review. Seven years chained up in an empty corner of Heaven, and Aziraphale had been wonderfully pliable for centuries after. Perhaps it was time to revisit.

“Look – look here, I have a list of…oh.” Aziraphale held out her book again, which seemed to be filled with irregular scrawl instead of the usual neatly printed words. “I started a list of accomplishments, but ah…I became busy the last few years. Um. Quite a lot has happened since…”

Uriel took the book and studied it, face impressively calm. “Interesting,” they said, not giving anything away as they turned the pages over. Gabriel trusted them to spot anything useful.

As the Archangels waited in pointed silence, Michael walked her fingers across a table. She pressed a thumb against a book, sliding it to the edge. Aziraphale stared as it teetered, then found its balance again. Michael watched it, disinterested, then moved on to another book, sliding that forward as well.

Sandalphon stepped back beside Gabriel, shrugging his shoulders. No sign of anything. Well. More questions for later.

Uriel reached the final page.

“What happened in 1967?”

“Nothing!” At the panic in Aziraphale’s tone, all four Archangels raised their eyebrows. “I – I – I mean, yes, lots, many – many—” One of the books beside Michael fell to the floor with a slap. The Principality winced. “I – I’m terribly sorry, could you be more specific?”

“Your final entry,” Uriel held the book out to Aziraphale, “says 1967 – Prevented… Prevented what?”

“Ahhhhhh.” Aziraphale squirmed. “Well, I…I…there was…ummm…”

“As I recall,” Michael said slowly, “you briefly visited Heaven that year, but didn’t officially report to any of us. And then didn’t return for at least…six months? Very unusual.”

“You haven’t been hiding something, have you?” Gabriel smiled, his heart rising. More than isolation. He could probably take away this shop, for a start, give it to a more trustworthy angel.

“Nnnnno.” Aziraphale gave that particular smile, the one that meant she thought she was about to get away with something. The one she thought Gabriel didn’t know about. “But, ahhh, if you could, um, quite a lot happened in the world in the…the last ten years or so.”

Something crashed on the other side of the building. No, he’d have the place demolished. It was falling apart already. Aziraphale could watch. Maybe he could order her to help. An eminently suitable punishment for wasting his time. “As I understand it,” he said, taking a step forward, “the last decade saw…war, riots, assassinations…”

“Well, well, yes, I…but, if you look at progress with, um, civil rights, ahh…anticolonialism…”

More made-up human terms. Gabriel and Michael shared a pained glance. “Look. Aziraphale.” Gabriel pressed his hands together. “It’s not that we don’t appreciate you taking the initiative, but…what does any of this have to do with your orders?”

“Or, for that matter, with your visit to Heaven?” Michael moved her fingers across the table again, coming to rest on one of those stupid little figurines Aziraphale had accumulated. Like a packrat. A human depiction of an angel, as some kind of soft, happy baby with wings. Not a warrior at all. Michael’s finger tapped against it. “What were you trying to prevent?”

“Did it have something to do with…Holy Water?” Sandalphon suddenly asked.

“That’s right,” Gabriel said. Something clicking in his mind. “There was that storage jar that went missing.” Did Aziraphale look more guilty than usual? “What year was that?”

“1967,” Uriel said.

He couldn’t hold back the smile. If he could prove Aziraphale had taken Holy Water for some sort of personal use, well.

He’d pretty much be justified whatever he decided to do.

“I – I – I can explain.” The Principality tried to back away, but was stopped by her own desk. “There – there was this demon, an – an especially, ah, wily, cunning, um, crafty demon—”

“Was there?” Michael’s finger twitched, sending the false angel off the table. It fell—

Then hovered, halfway to the floor.

Slowly, it lifted, rightening itself in the air before them. There was no trace of a miracle, no power of any kind. It simply…floated. Drifting through the air to land on the desk beside Aziraphale.

“Clever,” said Gabriel, watching the Principality’s face for any sign of deception. “How did you do that?”

“I…”

The pages of a book, laid out on the stand behind her, began to turn, flipping faster and faster, slamming shut.

“This…isn’t me.” Aziraphale said.

Behind her, books began to float off their shelves. One rocketed across the room towards Gabriel. He dodged it easily, but it was followed by another, and another. The lights flickered overhead.

“If it isn’t you,” Gabriel began, but a small table by the door to the next room began to rattle. Atop it lay a black-and-white board covered with formless carvings, which lifted into the air, then exploded, pieces flying at the Archangels. Gabriel easily batted them aside, but now one of the armchairs began to shift.

Without a word, the four prepared for battle, Gabriel stepping back, Michael and Sandalphon moving to the front. At least, that was the plan – the moment he tried to move, Gabriel fell, his feet somehow tightly bound together. The same happened to Sandalphon and Uriel, and even Michael stumbled, knocking over a table in her haste to stay upright.

Glass rattled in the back of the shop.

“It’s…” Aziraphale cleared her throat. “It’s that same demon again! I thought I’d banished her!”

“What?” Banishing wasn’t exactly something angels did.

“The – the Holy Water!” A bottle of something hovered out from the back room, moving slowly but threateningly. “Did you bring any? It’s the only thing that can stop her.”

“What are you talking about?” Michael’s sword manifested in her hand. “What demon?”

“Crowley! She – she seems to have grown even more powerful!”

“Crowley?” Not that worthless snake again. How many times had he been assured – through Michael’s secret back-channel sources – that Crowley was the most useless, incompetent, lazy demon in Hell? And yet somehow, not a single angel had ever successfully dealt with her – except Aziraphale.

“I thought I smelled a demon,” Sandalphon said, pulling his shoes off and tossing them aside. “But I can’t sense demonic power.”

“Obviously not!” Aziraphale’s wings burst from her back, and she held out a hand towards the hovering bottle. It slowly lowered itself to the ground. “Why do you think she’s so difficult to defeat? The power she uses – it’s not of Heaven or Hell! I – I can barely counter it!”

“Let me, then,” Michael said, predatory gleam in her eyes. Like Sandalphon, she’d removed her shoes; Gabriel was working on his own, but somehow the laces had become wound together like snakes, something sticky sealing the knot shut.

Sandalphon and Michael stepped forward, swords at the ready. “No!” Aziraphale turned to block them, and immediately the rattling started up again – this time from the metal stairs to the upper floor. “You – you don’t understand! Wh – when she gets like this – the fires would only make her stronger.”

Something – horrible, screeching noises – began emanating from the back room, like some animal being torn apart.

“That’s – that’s why I need the Holy Water! In the proper ritual, it – it – it’s too complicated to explain!”

A cupboard burst open, revealing a display of holy items – consecrated Bibles, holy symbols, sticks of incense and jars of oil. “No!” Aziraphale shouted, genuine panic in her voice.

The largest, heaviest of the Bibles lifted and shot across the room. It didn’t reach the Archangels, but Gabriel could see smoke rising from its cover.

Next came a crucifix, spinning end over end, which Michael caught out of the air. The wood was burned all along one side.

“Don’t you see?” Aziraphale said, eyes round. “Nothing I have in there can stop her! What could a flaming sword even do? I need more Holy Water.” A jar of oil fell to the ground and immediately began to boil, bubbling and steaming. “I’ll try to hold her back as long as I can.” Aziraphale’s face furrowed in concentration as she walked across the shop. “Please, it – it’s far too dangerous for you here…”

“Right.” Gabriel glanced at the other Archangels. Something wasn’t right. But they couldn’t risk themselves against an unknown force. “We’ll…we’ll get some Holy Water. You do what you can.”

With a thought, the ascended to Heaven.

Gabriel quickly stood up, brushing down his clothing and trying to school his expression. “Well. I think the best course of action is to wait a day or two, then go see what the damage is.”

“And Aziraphale’s review?” Uriel asked, face somehow still calm, despite everything that had happened.

“I just hope we don’t have to give her a damn commendation again.”

The Arch-Wankers vanished in a shimmer of blue light.

“Ow, ow, fuck that hurts!” Crowley gasped, stumbling away from the spilled oil and shaking her hands. “What kind of stuff do you keep in there?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale started to rush forward, then froze. “Where are you? Can’t you – reveal yourself, or whatever?”

“Nnnnnnnnope. Rrrrrgh, how does this hurt more than walking in a church?”

“I…I’m sorry, my dear girl,” Aziraphale said. “I’ve been worried lately that if – if your side realized what was happening…I thought it best to have a little insurance of my own.”

“Well it works.” Crowley managed to reach one of the shop chairs and sank into it. “Over here…no, here! Where’s…” She nudged the rug with her least-burnt toe, folding a bit of it up. Aziraphale immediately ran over.

“That was – well, that was clever, Crowley, but highly unnecessary. I – I was only having my performance review. I thought I was doing quite well.” Her soft hands found one of Crowley’s and picked it up, fingers tracing across the palm.

“I…” Crowley had seen the way Gabriel’s eyes lit up at the mention of Holy Water, while she was on the ground gluing his shoelaces together, and she counted it among the most terrifying things she’d ever seen. “I’m sure you were, but vanquishing some super-powerful demon? Saving the Archangels? Well, that’s only going to help, right?”

“Hmmm.” Another brush of her fingers, and the sting started to go out of Crowley’s palms. “And, I’m sure, spark a few rumors that might help you?”

“Oh.” Crowley grimaced, looking out the windows. “Unless those rumors spread really fast, I doubt I’m going to get much benefit.”

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale sank to the ground, patting around until she found one of Crowley’s feet. She gently lifted it, stroking from ankle to toe and giving it the same healing treatment. “And why are you like this?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

“Crowley.”

“Right. Um. I…may have…borrowed a few of your books and…designed a curse to get out of my quarter-century budget review. But in my defense – it’s so boring.”

Aziraphale sighed – or possibly blew a healing breath across Crowley’s feet. No, probably the sigh, but at least they felt a bit better. “My dear, it’s only a meeting. There’s no need for these – these histrionics.”

“Histri—Angel, that is – I am not – can you grab a dictionary? I need to know how upset I should be.”

“Extremely.”

“Right. I am. And…I thought it would only last a few hours. Have a bit of fun. But…I need my miracles for, you know, ambient healing, and…look, they cut off our miracles during the review, and only give them back once you’ve wowed them with your project idea.”

“And you don’t have one, do you?”

“Not…as such.” Crowley hung her head. “I…I thought I could get an extension. Just long enough to think of something.”

“So you cursed yourself.” That pained look, the I-hate-to-tell-you-how-much-you-failed-but-also-I-love-it look. Only slightly ruined by the fact that it was aimed somewhere over the demon’s left shoulder. “Crowley, did it never occur to you that in the time it took you create such a thing, you could just as easily have come up with a project?”

“Nh.”

“And did you come up with your brilliant idea during your delay?”

“Nnnh.”

“Well. At least you’re sorry now, I assume?”

“Nope.” If she hadn’t skipped out, Crowley wouldn’t have been here to help Aziraphale. She’d saved her friend countless times over six thousand years, but sometimes…she was quite happy the angel didn’t notice. “No, demons don’t get sorry. We get…” she grunted. “We get annoyed at ourselves for…ngk…for hanginupndagonnpissinheroff.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“For hanging up on Dagon and pissing her off.” Crowley rubbed her face. “Unless I can think of the greatest project any demon ever came up with…” Her stomach dropped as the reality of it hit. A thousand years in filing meant a thousand years without Aziraphale’s bastard looks and gentle touches. “I’m…probably going to be gone for a while.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale stroked her fingers across Crowley’s foot one more time. “No, that won’t do at all.” She looked up with that icy, determined look. The let-me-speak-to-your-manager expression that made Crowley go completely light-headed. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to do something about all this.”

“Like what?”

“How are your feet?”

“F—hmm? Oh, fine.” They were – Aziraphale seemed to have removed all the pain. Or at least, she’d removed some of the pain, and the fluttery feeling in Crowley’s chest allowed her to ignore the rest. “So. Um. What did you have in mind? Oh!” A grin stretched across her face. “Dagon and Beelzebub already think you cursed me. Maybe we can stage a second fight where they see it. I’ll definitely get an extension that way.”

“Or.” Aziraphale found Crowley’s hands again and laced their fingers together, pulling her to her feet. “We can go for a drive in that beastly car of yours and actually come up with a proper idea. Something convoluted, demonic, and with that…Crowley style.”

“I have a style now?”

“Hmmm. Yes. Not as refined as mine, but I think we can make it work.” Her right hand squeezed Crowley’s, and her left slid up the demon’s arm to her shoulder. “You know, I had a little over a century apart from you. And I have absolutely no desire to repeat that. In fact I…I rather think I prefer your company to, well. Anyone’s.”

“Nnnnh.” Crowley shuffled her feet and clutched Aziraphale’s hand back, guiding the angel to stand just a little closer. Needing to say something. Afraid to say too much. “Ssssss. Mmmm. Yeah. I, uh. I like it better up here, too. Y’know. Where you are.”

“Yes, I know.” Aziraphale’s left hand slid further up, coming to rest on the back of her neck. “I can see right through you. My dear Crowley.” With the lightest pressure, she tipped the demon’s head down.

And kissed her, soft lips covering Crowley’s shocked mouth.

“Oh…” Aziraphale gasped, pulling back slightly, hardly at all. “I, ah…I meant to…” Her breath still tickled Crowley’s lips. “I…forehead…”

“Nrrh.” Crowley’s free hand drifted forward, finding Aziraphale’s hip, resting on it, barely a touch. It was all she dared. “Ah…?”

Neither of them moved. Or both did. Or they stood still and the world around them shifted. Whichever way it was, their lips touched again, and held this time. Slowly, they drifted closer, caught in each other’s gravity, a decaying orbit. Crowley would surely burn up on approach, but it was worth every moment.

Eventually they parted, once more just enough to breathe, to speak, to remember that they were two beings and not a single, burning soul.

“Not…” Crowley swallowed. “Not too fast?”

“I…” Aziraphale bit her lip. “I don’t know. But…Crowley…I know…where I want to go. Eventually.”

Their foreheads pressed together. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Aziraphale nodded, dropping left hand falling away, right thumb rubbing the back of Crowley’s hand. Her eyes fluttered open and she gasped. “Oh, my word!”

“What?” Crowley glanced at herself, black cloth trousers flared wide at the legs, tight red sleeveless shirt cut scandalously low in the front and back, boots with heels that made her even taller than usual—

She was visible again.

“I…I suppose I was still healing you when we…oh…oh, Crowley…what are you wearing?”

“Angel, it’s – I look fashionable, you look – have you changed anything in the last century?”

“I…a few things! Were you honestly planning to give a presentation like that?”

“I was going to be invisible, yeah!”

“You…are…” Aziraphale pressed her eyes shut. “I am going to get my jacket. And then I’m going to get you a jacket, because it’s cold at night, and you are cold-blooded.”

“M’not,” Crowley muttered.

“And then we will go for our ride and determine what evil, dastardly plan I will spend the next twenty-five years thwarting. Is that clear?”

“Yes.” After a moment, Crowley said, “Ah, Aziraphale?”

“What is it now?”

“At some point, are you going to let go of my hand?”

Aziraphale glanced down. “Oh. Hmm. I suppose we’ll find out.”

(Fifty Years Later)

Crowley sat beneath the apple tree, her hand clutched tightly in Aziraphale’s, leaning back against her angel’s chest. “And that,” she concluded, “is why we call the 26th of April Lesbian Visibility Day.”

The Them stared at the two supernatural beings, mouths slightly open.

“You…” Pepper started, “are full of so much shit.”

“Oi!”

“Actually,” Wensley said, “that’s…one of the worst stories I’ve ever heard. How are you supposed to budget miracles?”

“If they could cut you off that easy,” Brian jumped in, “why didn’t they do it when you left Hell?”

“Oh, ummm,” she glanced up at Aziraphale.

“Tactics,” the angel said enigmatically.

Pepper didn’t even seem to be listening. “How did you know what all those people were thinking?”

“That’s right,” Wensley nodded. “Particularly Gabriel.”

“He…he has a very expressive face,” Crowley argued.

“How’d you actually move around like that, without anyone hearing you? The whole day?”

“Shouldn’t you’ve been, you know, way more worried about getting killed?”

“At least one of those bookshop attacks wasn’t even possible, unless you were in two places at once.”

“And how d’you accidentally leave your healing on?”

“How could you possibly mistake her lips for her forehead?”

“This was rubbish.”

“What do you think, Adam?”

The former Antichrist looked up from where he was playing with Dog. “I think…” He gave the angel and demon a penetrating look, then shook his head, smiling as if he’d just seen the joke at the center of the universe, and it had turned out to be a truly terrible pun. “I think you should just tell us the next story.”

“Which one’s that?” Crowley asked, settling back into the curve of her angel’s arm, fingers still twined together.

“The one with the greatest project any demon ever came up with.”

“Oh.” Grinning, Crowley tipped her head to meet Aziraphale’s shining eyes. “Wahoo.”

The song is "Break on Through (To the Other Side)" by the Doors, because Queen had not yet put out their first album, though there was a lot of pressure in the Discord to have Crowley dancing to Abba instead.

Final scene set next year because we'll all be sitting together under apple trees with our loved ones and telling BS stories to kids before we know it.

For everyone who contributed non-anonymous suggestions:

@amidst-innumerable-stars @tangle5ancer @fenrislorsrai @feuerkindjana @bowser14456 @taksez @yeahhiyellow @infinitevariety @gargelyfloof118 @lourek @soft-forest-rain @undertaker991 @jules-al-c @lov-lyness2 @thisleadstohollyhocks @marianrios33 @aux-barricades @lostmemimi @joybones @derederest @myusernameispie @mothmans-favorite-lamp and @n0nb1narydemon (yes I did find a way to level up the coin gluing!) and of course @5ftjewishcactus who encouraged me when you really shouldn't. Sorry I couldn't fit in everyone's suggestions!

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