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acatwithstockings · 1 day ago

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Could you please, please tell me everything about the 1990's Good Omens (very bad) Movie script? you mentioned not being able to taIk about it because no one is interested (which I very much relate to, but in just basically anything Good Omens related) I was not there for when it was leaked, so I'd really like to know like... all of it (I promise I am so interested, and also very very obsessed with Good Omens. I'll absolutely be your captive audience.)

the only things I think I know are that Crowley's mean and has a nightclub, and Aziraphale has a museum(??). and it's in America??

You don't know how happy it just makes me ramble on about that one. Could write a whole essay tbh (I try my best not bc my spelling is atrocious pff ).

Only snagged it myself after a whole year of searching when it got put up on Dropbox for a few hours. Got taken down quickly again. Idk if it was bc of a copyright claim or if the owner took it down themselves bc it isn't supposed to be spread around due to said issues and they (not quite so cleverly) posted the Link on a post that would make it especially easy for the copyright holder to find it. At any rate, I Got really lucky in that regard. The copyright issues around this thing are fascinating in general and could make for a great study in regards to the flaws of that system.

As for the script contents... Well it's something.

Yes Crowley is mean it would be wrong to reduce that version of him to that. (I will try and point out why later). Yes he owns a nightclub, the aptly names hellfire on a hill(? Idk enough about british topography to know if that's a hint towards a real part of town or just bc the visual of it being on a hill is cool ) in London. So It does not play in America and Aziraphale is working at the British museum. Canon explanation why they try everything and anything to not give back the artefacts they stole, I suppose. (That was a joke. In the script itself it isn't even as much as mentioned that our favorite angel has any interest in collecting anything, missed opportunity if you ask me)

In general the whole thing plays out extremely differently from the story we all love. And sadly lacks the Prattchian humor... For obvious reasons. It does have it's moments tho not many but they are there. ( "Crowley un-snakes" will never not be funny)

What follows is a lengthy summary which will have a bit of analysis and personal interpretation mixed into it . Bc who needs good struktur if you can do stream of consciousness? Am I right?

We begin with the protagonist Crowley and Aziraphale, who in this version sadly takes a bit of a backseat, playing checkers in Aziraphale's study. In this version they are color coded with pure white clothing and hair and pure black clothing and hair. Crowley remarks that 'everything is going too well'. To which Aziraphale points out, that complaining seems to be a favorite past time of the demon. He has a knack for putting down/dismissing Crowley on basis of being a demon (" Oh, isn't that just like a demon? Six-thousand years and all you do is complain") in this version and it's part of his ark , kinda.

It looks like Aziraphale is about to win Crowley however, uses the cliché 'Lock over there' trick to cheat. In the following dialogue we learn that they have been playing one checkers match a week for the past six thousand years. So basically it's presumed they played their first match in Eden before checkers was even invented. (Then again the stage direction describes a painting depicting Crowley as green snake wearing sunglasses in Eden, so they just have been trend setters from the start) . They then set a date for their next match, Crowley makes his distaste for earth known, they meet Aziraphale's assistant Polly, who is very unimpressed by Crowley and then he is off not without causing some mischief with a stolen wallet.

Aziraphale gets a little scene where he is appraising a painting for its authenticity. He gets called 'bramy as a box of fruit bats' and tells the ones that brought the painting that if it were real, he'd know bc he would have seen the master paint it. The interesting thing here is that this scene essentially is there to show us that despite not acknowledging Crowley's cheating or directly calling out the forgery and its purpose (to gain money), even calling it pretty, he knows what's going on he simply chooses to play/be aloof .

Next we get introduced to the nightclub. Nothing much Happens here at first except that we get introduced to the Barstaff. Or well at least Tina (my love) the barman. As it seems Crowley is managing a successful business and outside of a little rant, calling people sheep and wanting bigger cocktail umbrellas, he genuinely seems to be competent in his leadership and friendly to his staff. Knowing them by name .

Other notable staff members are Warren, I think he has one line and is the handyman/security of the nightclub and Marjorie who gets a few more lines and is part of the waitstaff. Who by the way are put in full body imp costumes bc of course the nightclub is themed after hell.

Crowley then contacts hell, where he ultimately gets told that Satan himself has a special task for him. And we get the first clue that Crowley who so far has given us very cool very early 90's style Anti"hero' is scared shitless. Not just that hell thinks he is a bit of a loser, not being impressed by his mission reports and all.

We then get to the good old Hyde Park scene with nearly drowned drake safed by Aziraphale's intervention and everything. What is interesting here however is, is that Crowley is a full blown nihilist and Aziraphale just very over enthusiastically positive. Aziraphale saying a woman is doing something good by giving her ice cream to a child while Crowley points out that the ice had first been dropped to the ground and been liked by a dog. (Script! Aziraphale as much as I love you but I am with script! Crowley on this one). Aziraphale points out that that hardly matters because the child is happy and that makes it a good deed. Crowley snarkily points out that Happiness is a stupid metric for good things and says he likes one thing about humans : that they are reliable in doing the selfish bad thing.

Aziraphale then tries to then get Crowley to reveal why things are going to well. Crowley points out that they are enemies and he shouldn't give out that information despite the arrangement (sadly we don't get more information about that but I would love to know how it looked in that universe) and only is convinced by Aziraphale being hurt about it and giving him sad puppy eyes. Crowley then invites Aziraphale over to his nightclub after hours to talk about it what head office actually wants from him.

We then jump to the nightclub again. Crowley is surpassingly decent towards people, Tina is managing the club. And Madam Tracy is making an entrance. In this version she is an slowly aging out of it IT-girl. It's implied that she had a multitude of affairs and that she has now been payed off big time. (I enjoy Madam Tracy in this version a LOT). She never seems to be quite there but still own any situation.

Her and Crowley have a little conversation that gets broken up when he decides to deal with a Troublemaker at the bar instead of letting Warren take care of it. (Side note that part of the script gave me the HC that script! Crowley is very short, definitely shorter than script!Aziraphale) . He is having a full blown Anime protagonist moment, including using the bribe the trouble maker gives him to give to the Waitress the Troublemaker had harassed in a very cool™ manner and stopping a punch with one hand. Just believe me it's very anime. But again Crowley seems to be actual decent boss, believe it or not.

He then gets a Call in the bathroom . Satan talking to him through the mirror without prior notice. He orders Crowley to get to a graveyard within 30 minutes. Crowley is keeping it together but he is panicking. He is having a short conversation with Tracy again in which he stays relatively friendly surpassingly enough.

Fun fact this whole film would have had "Every day' as musical theme. Bc from this moment the song gets mentioned continuously.

After a speeding and vandalizing a cop car out of desperation since he is late and they determined to stop him we get to meet satan. In this version he is a cold calculating (but very cool) business man . Crowley in German we'd say 'legt sich erstmal ordentlich auf's maul' (meaning he trips and falls on the ground). He is groveling before him, bootlicking and trying to appease his Master (for real tho if that movie would have been made there would have been Satan/Crowley shippers bc that shit is some fuel for a toxic ship). At any rate Crowley is making a bit of a fool of himself and Satan is enjoying the Powertrip. In the end he gives Crowley the antichrist with the task to raise the baby or else suffer worse than anyone else in hell. However if he succeeded he is getting to leave the planet (again he supposedly doesn't even like earth in this version)

Anathema is introduced. She is just a little occult girl that felt the antichrist coming to earth. No mentioning of prophecies or anything. Our beloved Agnes does not exist in this universe. Just a little girl with green eyes and a sense for the occult.

Now with a baby he is supposed to take care of, Crowley makes his way back to the nightclub. There he hides the newborn from his employees and gets pulled away to discuss something by Tina. Since he is hiding the baby he puts the newborn down, right into Madam Tracy's money bag. And well, while he is off talking with Tina , Madam Tracy is taking her bag without noticing the child and off she goes. Leaving Crowley with the problem of a lost antichrist.

He starts drinking. He knows he is done for so what's the point. (The first bottle he grabs is Aardvark Snapps idk why I finde that interesting) . At this point he has accepted that he will end up for an eternity being punished. Hours later Aziraphale makes an appearance and is a little bit judgemental about Crowley being drunk. (Side note: an other hc of mine is that script!Aziraphale is straight edge bc of that scene). Crowley tries to have him join him drinking but fails. And then just try a to have a little heart to heart. ("I am doomed, Aziraphale") Only getting a little speech about being a demon and therefore inherently doomed ('duhhh!') back.

Crowley eventually just confides in Aziraphale how much he has fucked up having a bit of a monologue about it. Eventually Aziraphale offers to help find the boy, but only if he is allowed to influence him. To which Crowley reluctantly agrees, because it would mean that he still fails his task of raising a boy that Satan could be proud of. But Aziraphale is a little bit manipulative (also Crowley is still drunk while Aziraphale is sober) so they shake on it. Anyway this exchange is one of my favorites in the script .

We finally jump eleven years into the future and get to meet Adam.

He has been adopted by Madam Tracy. And is now running a bed and breakfast in the quaint little town of Tadfield. Instead of an army base this Tadfield has direct access to the sea. Including it's very own pier. Anyhow I said Adam is running the b&b that's because Madam Tracy is a neglectful parent and as much as I enjoy her script version, she is not doing great here. Adam is running errands, making breakfast for his mom and generally keeping things together. His whole interdiction is him being a little adult .

He finally gets some child time and we meet 'the Them' except they are not 'the Them'. Brian, Pepper and Wensleydale are a friend group and try to talk to Adam because Pepper wants to be friends with him ( I think the intention was to make Pepper and Adam as THING but idk) . But Adam wants nothing to do with them and instead just wants his peace and quite. So he gets insulted for not having a father and sulks off.

Anathema has also arrived at the scene. And has a culture shock bc of the lackluster infrastructure out here. She arrives in Tadfield with some difficulties and now has to somehow find a place to stay. And while the town seemed overrun with places renting out rooms it also has a case of outdated world views and nobody is willing to take Anathema in for some reason or the other. She eventually gets pointed into the direction of Madam Tracy. Where she is informed that she can have a room . And Madam Tracy casually dunks on Picasso which I can support.

Anathema then repeatedly runs into Adam and tries to strike up a conversation but he just doesn't want to and runs off. As both of them eventually go home at the end of the day he accuses her of following him they both are taking the same path. As he gets told that Anathema also lives at the same address as him now he gets angry and stroms to Madam Tracy, disrupting a seance to scold her for taking on a lodger without his approval. He is angry that Madam Tracy is so reckless taking in people without proper background check.

Following that Adam interviews Anathema. And they bond .

At night Adam sneaks off to the pier and we learn that he has build a model of Tadfield in an abandoned arcade.

He and Anathema bond a bit more over breakfast. (And honestly I like that version of them more relationship wise. As much as I love Prattchet, he did have a particular style of writing children that also came through in Gomes . It lends itself great to hypotheticals and punchlines, not so much for interpersonal relationships however)

Back to Crowley and Aziraphale. Last time Crowley had been hopeful and appreciative of the angel. Well now he is running out of time and he is getting grumpy and down in the dumps and ready to give up. While Aziraphale is still unrelentingly optimistic. Poly makes an other entrance, Crowley puzzles together an ancient Etruscan pott. All riveting stuff.

Shadwell, or what's left of his character makes a short appearance as 'MAD OLD MAN' shouting and standing on a soap box as set dressing for Crowley to buy a newspaper and... Pay for it .

He gets sapped into hell without notice.

(Side note Miss Ashtoreth is mentioned as secretary of Satan himself.)

Satan wants to check up on his son's progress. Crowley is shitting himself and lies, reassuring Satan that the boy is properly evil and all that . Of course Satan wants to see the boy real soon and tells Crowley to tell the boy that he is ready for when the boy wants to see him. And after taking a look at Adam by rearranging the universe itself to show a likeness in the stars (hell is a very surreal space with an office above the pit and direct view of all of the universe) Crowley gets sapped back to earth. (Also Satan calls Crowley 'Crawler' which is the script version of Crowley's name change, probably)

Crowley Is now properly stressed out.

On the other end of London (probably) Aziraphale's Crowley senses tingle and he just starts running (presumably) towards Crowley. This never gets brought up or explained. And is so bizarre I couldn't skip it.

Back in Tadfield Adam and Pepper get a bit of a bonding moment. Talking about action figures, Pepper giving Adam a lecture about not being sexist , getting fish and chips. The topic of Adams lack of a father gets brought up again and he lies. Telling Pepper he had met his father before and his father is a some sort of international business man, that meets with Presidents and is very busy. Eventually Perper asks about Anathema and tries to convince Adam to take her to the movies.

Back in London one Angel apparently unable to use public transport arrives at the nightclub. We can assume that he had been running the whole way. He gets pointed towards Crowley by multiple staff members, 'Every day' gets another cameo and he accidentally stumbles into the dressing room for the waiting staff, which is very embarrassing for him but not for the women.

When he reaches Crowley's office, the demon doesn't want to talk. He is panicking and packing to go on the run for the rest of eternity. (Which for him just means a suitcase full of sunglasses) . What follows is the infamous dialogue bc of which script!Crowley get his reputation from. (I might make myself very unpopular here but I think that reputation is not quite deserved. Yes he is an asshole but also the harsher exchanges only play out when he is stressed/panicked and usually if he goes too far he will try and paddel back. Still worst of the Crowleys without a doubt just not quite as bad as people like to paint him. Also script!Aziraphale isn't half as naive and helpless as people like to paint him and in this house we let him have his agency! But also more on that later)

The exchange switches tone once Aziraphale lets his unbreakable optimism fallter and gets sad. To which Crowley immediately reacts bc trying to reassure him that they are in fact friends and that he shouldn't be sorry. Pointing out that he (Crowley) now knows what the boy looks like to counteract Aziraphale's pessimistic statement that they could never have found the boy bc they didn't even know what he looks like. They agree to hit one more town in their search for the boy.

In Tadfield Anathema finally gets to talk about her quest to find the SOMETHING with Madam Tracy. And have her witness a fight between Brian and Adam about Adam's father. (Srly Adam gets constantly bullied bc of that.) Anathema steps between the two to protect Adam. They make a deal to tell each other's secrets. First we get Anathema showing Adam stuff about the antichrist and the weapon she plans on killing him with.

Then we get an intermission with Crowley and Aziraphale discussing how they should choose which town to go to. They decide with a dart throw.

Back with Adam and Anathema. Adam shows Anathema his model of Tadfield. To the question what he plans on doing once that model is done, he tells her, he is going to build the rest of the world and rule over it. He also voices his desire to get somewhere else to be no longer stuck in Tadfield.

Aziraphale and Crowley arrive in Tadfield during a Thunderstorm and face the same problem as Anathema. No one wants to rent them a room in town. And while with Anathema the whole thing was rooted in sexism, disdain for outsiders (aka read as Americans) and misunderstanding about her occupation, for those two it's the obligatory 'People think they are a gay couple' thing but with a giant side of Homophobia.

Crowley want to give up Aziraphale want to go on and eventually they end up at Madam Tracy's.

Madam Tracy mistakes them for the gas person, Crowley wants separate rooms, Aziraphale a shared one,(we never get to know which they now too bc the script has both scenes with a shared room and a separate room. It could also be the case that Crowley simply stays longer than Aziraphale and therefore the shared room becomes his room. At any rate it is never specified. And to be honest there are multiple parts of the script where the author very obviously had given up on it soooo) Crowley praises Aziraphale's skill as homemaker, Madam Tracy tells them, they have to wait for Adam. Adam comes home Crowley recognizes the boy.

Crowley and Aziraphale take a stroll on the beach and come to the agreement to each spend a day with the boy, despite Crowley trying to avoid having Aziraphale influence the kid. They also witness how Brian's fathers getting things ready to tear down the pier.

In the evening they play an other game of checkers. Adam witnessing first hand Crowley's cheating as he gets the both of them to have dinner with the whole house.

At the dinner table they convince Madame Tracey to let them take Adam to London for a day. Adam being obviously overjoyed about the whole thing.

Anathema sees Aziraphale's and Crowley's true nature for a sec. And I am sorry if this part comes across as rather dry, it's also rather dry in the script.

Adam gets taken to London. First Aziraphale get to show him the museum and talk about human creations . (Side note , when I first got my hands on the script I thought I was missing a page bc the dialogue has a really awkward jump in this scene but no ... It's supposed to be like that and either it was the author giving up or it was supposed to be a kid thing. Jumping from one topic to the next with much logic. We will never know)

Adam then confronts Aziraphale about Crowley's cheating. And here comes the part why I will never see script!Aziraphale as truly naive or helpless. Aziraphale admits to Adam that he had always known Crowley cheated, he just thought it virtuous to not point it out. Bc he played fair in his mind that was enough to stand above the other and just let him do the cheating. Adam points out it stupid and that was that. Aziraphale is stunned and does what most people with too much money and no idea how to handle kids do, exactly drag him somewhere, where he can buy shit.

Next up is Crowley. First he drags Adam to Soho. Not Good Omens there might be a cozy bookshop somewhere Soho but well 90s it's a bit of a cess pool Soho. With hookers and homeless teenage girls ( and for all those people that take Crowley being displeased with Adam for giving the girl some change as point to call him fundamentally mean/bad... I implore you learn was character motivations are. He has been tasked with raising an evil child, has promised an evil child, obviously he is displeased when that child is doing something selfless. And he wouldn't do something selfless in the presence of the said child bc again he is supposed to influence him towards evil) Crowley then gets him a milkshake and takes him to his club where they have the mirror conversation to Aziraphale's. Ending with Asam pointing out that it is pretty boring to always win for the wins sake by the means of cheating.

On the way back they have a short conversation about their respective experiences with the boy. Accidentally letting it slip that they know who Adam's father is, believing the boy to be asleep. He is not.

That night Anathema finally succeedes in her endeavor to find the antichrist. Her crystal ball revealing to her that it is indeed Adam. She is so shocked by that, that she lets the ball fall but luckily for her Aziraphale does his thing and it lands safely without breaking. (That another quirk of the script apparently Anathema and Aziraphale were supposed to be something and what ever that it, it's even weirder than Adam and Pepper)

Madam Tracy also finally recognized Crowley from THAT night and they have a honest heart to heart. Or whatever you call it when the otherwise always woozy character suddenly seem lucid and aware of what will happen.

That night Adam goes to Anathema for emotional support bc of the father thing. Anathema however is in the middle of a crisis bc she now knows what Adam is and had tried to get herself ready to murder him. Eventually Adam notices the knife behind her back and with the first flair of his antichrist powers forces her to show it to him before storming off hurt.

Being emotionally distraught he runs to his hideout on the pier and calls out to his feather. First nothing happens but then after Adam went off the pier and back again it is completely transformed into a bright happy carnival. His Father has arrived. Satan immediately takes Adam under his wings . He even dresses him up as a mini self.

The next morning the whole town of Tadfield is one giant carnival. There is a parade with elephants. And the people from around town are all mindlessly attending the celebration.

Crowley has a short meeting with Satan (on an elephant) and gets told that he is supposed to come to Satan to talk about his promotion to alpha centauri. AND

( Don't ask me why I find this too funny to not share my humor is very broken )

The town is being further transformed and more people are made mindless puppets. But no Crowley is happy to have gotten away with his stunt. He is roleplaying flirting with someone in a mirror. (Also in the script notes it literally says James Bond for acting directions for Crowley, and that's such a dorky idea I love the theory of it ... Bit of a waste in this tho).

Aziraphale tries to change his mind but Crowley shut him down by pointing out that he was the one saying happiness alone is making things a good thing so it shouldn't matter if people have to be made into mindless puppets first. They are happy after all.

Meanwhile Adam is torturing Brian by throwing tomatoes hat him and having the rest of the town join in with the fun. He just wants his father to be proud of him (nawww ) (that naw was sarcastic). In the crowd Anathema is fighting to regain control over herself.

Aziraphale still tries to convince Crowley. Rugging at his heart strings but even the tried and true "I thought we are friends" won't work this time. Crowley wants to cease his opportunity, he wants out and up.

While those two are arguing, Anathema struggles. All she wants it the knife but she is exhausted.

Crowley is looking for a starting point for his launch towards alpha centauri. He is climbing onto a church tower. Behind him Aziraphale still hasn't given up. Despite not liking heights (!? Wasn't mentioned before will not be mentioned again but apparently script!Aziraphale has a fear of heights). He finally gets an idea and challenges Crowley to one last match.

Crowley for once doesn't cheat and it looks like he is Winn but then Aziraphale DOES cheat, desperate to keep Crowley on earth and have him fight at his side. And Crowley just shrugs and accepts. His next line after acknowledging the win already calls Satan his ex-boss and if that is not a very impressive 360° turn then I don't know what is. (Just a throw back to character motivation, we could speculate it's because most of what Crowley has said were lies and half truths and deep down he actually likes earth and bla or he just remembered how much he would miss his nightclub BUT I as number one script!Crowley (not really) defender say ... It's just unfinished/bad writing and there simply wasn't enough time or inspiration or whatever to finish his character ark)

Anathema manages to give both of them the knife. Crowley is so idiotic and tries to grab it but it burns him . I mean, duhh! Anathema literally tells them that this knife can hurt the antichrist why should it be harmless for a way lesser demon? So Aziraphale takes the knife.

After calling Crowley his best friend, Crowley himself calling himself stupid Aziraphale, presumably presumably is important here) with the knife, goes off to confront Adam. He tried to talk Adam out of it. Trying to point out that no good father leaves his kid alone for eleven years and if this is really what Adam wants. As he points out that Madam Tracy despite all her flaws still love Adam he gets disorporated, by Adam. But bc this is a Movie script and we don't have much time left he just stays in his true angel form (which is very much just white robes , wings and halo ) right where he is further trying to talk Adam out of it .

(his an other line in my mounting pile of evidence that script! Aziraphale is neither naive nor helpless and simply chooses to carry himself that way bc he thinks it's virtuous. He literally acknowledges that people can do bad things. Something he would not at any point before that in the script. I rest my case )

While Aziraphale is trying to make Adam think about a things Crowley is off confronting Satan, presumably without the knife.

Satan acknowledges that Crowley had lied to him but is still in such a good mood that he still wants to give out the promotion. Even throws in the Titel of fiend extraordinar. For a moment it seems like Crowley considers but ultimately he tells Satan that he wants to quit. Satan is not happy about that and after Crowley also pulls out a pink rubber glove and the knife (yhea Crowley had the knife all along , take that continuity or rather scree logic, like not showing how they get a rubber glove is fine what ever but having the last scene withe knife I'm be the one where it's shown that he can't touch it and Aziraphale had to carry it would have made it feel a bit too deus ex machina.) he forces him into half snake form and summens hands that try and drag him back to hell.

Thanks to his already established Crowley senses Aziraphale suddenly shows up and charges at Satan. Who in turn is like 'An angel, really? You betrayed me,..' and then roasts Aziraphale to a crisp before destroying the knife .

Adam confronted with a robotic acting madam Tracy, listening to his every command, starts to reflect on his actions. Getting called in by his father to greed the four horsepersons he notices Aziraphale and Crowley.

Adam now faced with all the destruction says: no, I am not doing it. Stan tries to threaten him into obeying but he gets the good old 'You not my dad'. For being a deadbeat for 11 years. Adam then heals Aziraphale and frees Crowley. Now flanked by the two Adam banishes the horseman.

Satan demanding obedience once more, gets reminded by Crowley that he himself once rebelled. And after laughing about that revelation he tells Adam that it was interesting meeting him but as it seemed he wasn't cut out to be a dad. To Crowley that he is now banned from hell and to Aziraphale that he should tell his boss, that at least his son (the antichrist) had more guts than his(Jesus and yes the script sadly uses he/him for God).

After Satan vanishes they have to escape a collapsing pier. Noticing too late that Madam Tracy is also still there. Adam ends up releasing her from her trance by calling her mom and telling her that he loves her. Aziraphale ends up saving both of them, flying them to safety on the beach.

At the beach they also meet Anathema, who promises not to kill him and Pepper . They watch as the pier explodes and burns to the ground. Anathema also has uncomfortable eye contact with Aziraphale while he ripples back into human form . (Don't me why it feels uncomfortable, Anathema is described as looking on tens while he sill full angel and softening once he is human again so idk)

Apropos Anathema and Aziraphale. The next Morning, he comes to say goodbye and ends up offering a job bc (I forgot to mention it when it happened) Polly his assistant had a promotion. So he is search for a new assistant. She end up kissing him on the cheek and calling him angel but in a way where it's ambiguous if she now knows that he is one or if she just thinks he is a good person and something always makes her forget what he really is. At an rate Aziraphale says he had never gotten a kiss on the cheek im six thousand years and knowing a bit about history and cultural practices I am inclined to calling him a liar. But then again this is fiction .... So sure ... Cheek kiss virgin this one.

While that is happening Madam Tracy is asking Crowley if she can keep the boy now . And Crowley reassures her, that after this no one is going to come for him. He even offers to throw a birthday party for her at his club all she should do is just to look after the boy. It's actually a very sweet exchange.

Outside Brian and Adam have a little exchange, Brain trying once more to get to Adam with the father thing. But Adam has no daddy issues anymore. Instead he asks pepper out to the movies and Brian just tags along without being asked. Where is Wensleydale you asking ? Take your best guess, he was mentioned once said one thing and then fell off the earth.

With the kids now finally as a group we have the last shot of Aziraphale and Crowley. They are walking along the street , Crowley one stolen Apple in hand . Having their talk about good and evil. Accusing each other of being a little bit of a good person (press x to boubt) and just enough of a bastard (oh absolutely). How they both knew the other was cheating all along. And maybe alpha centauri isn't such a good idea after all. You can even get booze there. The last thing that is said is Aziraphale telling to not start THAT again, after being offered the apple.

I lied one more screenshot bc Every ...it had been for told by the cursed script for ages now. (I am pretty sure it had been in the talks to put go to Every day' even before the script was ordered so that is just a joke)

At any rate I do have to go to work in ....eh three hours ... So I will leave it at the summary for now. I am dyslexic and English is my second writing so I am very sorry for all the mistakes I probably made . If someone reblogs this before I get the chance to correct them, let it be said that at least nobody can claim this is ai pfff.

Also not I said the author the two times I mentioned him simply bc I don't feel like acknowledging the name of the person. I got into Gomes bc of Sir Terry and I stay here for him. This little obsession with the script happened by pure chance.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #azicrow #1992 omens #good omens 1992 script #ask #we stand Tina and Marjorie in this house #summary

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phyx-m · 3 days ago

Text

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 4: The Belly Of The Beast

Content warning: unintentional voyeurism, slightly suggestive

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

The Culling - Chelsea Wolfe Men Like Gods - Gazelle Twin

* * * * *

Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

* * * * *

“Don’t leave me here!”

Voice cracking, you clutch your father's garment with your gloved hands, hopelessness seeping into the grip. He ignores your plea, striding toward his mount in a silent, unblinking fury.

Pride is a dangerous thing. And your father’s has just been ripped wide open.

Sukuna's little spectacle in the central hall—killing one of your father’s men because of you, and doing so in front of his entire clan—has him absolutely fucking fuming.

Fingertips digging into the fabric for more purchase, you are practically clinging to him like a child. Touching your father repulses you, as does every aspect of him. But after what transpired, your desperation is rearing its ugly head.

Witnessing Sukuna dismember a dead body was one thing, but seeing a living, breathing person reduced to a wailing, cauterized mess before being decapitated was something else entirely. The cries of agony, the amount of blood, the limbs on the floor. Now carved into your mind.

“Father, please,” you plead, struggling to keep up with his strides. The grounds of the shrine are rain-slicked from the earlier downpour, making it difficult for you to stay upright. “I can’t do this.”

You must stay. You have to do this.

“Please!” you continue, voice rising, fingers knotting.

He stops and whirls around, getting right in your face.

Large, dark, angry eyes bore into yours. The sharp angles of his face appear more severe and brutal. The darkness of the evening only accentuates the creases of his face, turning it into an ugly mask.

“You will do as I say, you ungrateful little bitch,” he snarls, shoving you away with both hands. You stumble backward, your legs splaying wide to keep your balance as mud sucks at your feet. “You will remain here.”

He gives you a look that dares you to defy him, fully aware that you won't. He understands that you grasp the consequences and recognizes that he holds you completely under his control, ready to crush you at a moment's notice. And you know he longs to strike you across the face, but damaging Sukuna’s property is no longer in his best interest. Instead, he will leave scars on you that aren't visible to the eye.

To your right, Onishi leads your sister toward a mount. He lifts her up and climbs behind her, snaking an arm around her delicate frame. Seeing that vile man so close to her, knowing how his mind works, makes your nostrils flare.

Instinctively, you step toward them.

"No," your father commands, grabbing your shoulder to stop you. You jerk away and try to push past him, but he seizes the other one tightly and drags you closer. "Get back inside," he hisses through gritted teeth. You blanch as his dank breath washes over your face.

Tentatively, you glance over your shoulder at the shrine’s entrance. Only Uraume stands there, waiting for you. In the darkness, their all-white kimono and hair stand out like a beacon, as if beckoning you, trying to pull you back into that hellhole.

You turn back to your father.

“Please,” you say quietly, resuming your appeals, “There has to be another way.”

Your repeated words make his left eye twitch. The sagging skin at his neck wobbles with each angry inhale.

“You have two months.” His words are spoken low, and their weight threatens to pull you down.

“Two months,” you repeat, the enormity of the deadline sinking in.

This is the time he has allotted for you to take down the creature or risk losing your sister.

Two months might seem reasonable, but everything you've observed about Sukuna leaves you troubled. He’s like a cat—an inhuman, agile cat—slipping out of reach whenever you attempt to catch him. Having witnessed his abilities, you understand that he can kill in seconds, while it takes you considerably longer to harness your gift.

How the hell is this going to work?

Without saying another word, your father releases you, turns and mounts his horse.

Perched atop his mount, he looks down at you one last time. A single glance at his eyes tells you everything you need to know. They are detached, empty. In his mind, you are unworthy—nothing to him.

With a sharp crack of the reins, he spurs the horse forward, guiding it down the dirt-packed road into the night.

Onishi’s horse quickly follows behind, passing you, your sister nestled tightly against his chest.

Heart dropping to your stomach, you realize you haven’t had a chance to say goodbye to her.

“Wait,” you call out. You step forward into a few purposeful steps before breaking into a run.

“Wait. Yuna!” you shriek, extending your hand towards her in a panic. She turns, arm reaching out to you, but she is pulled away.

“Yuna!”

You desperately try to catch up, but your kimono drags you back, its folds catching with every movement. The silt underfoot is treacherous and forces you into a crawl.

With every breath, your chest heaves as you struggle to keep pace.

You are exhausted. Completely drained. This day. This horrible, life-altering day weighs you down.

All you can do is watch as your entire clan slowly fades into tiny specks, swallowed by the forest on either side.

Eventually, you slow. Knees knocking together, you tremble, your entire body on the verge of collapsing.

“No,” you breathe, taking one last hesitant step.

You should have been prepared for this moment, but now that it’s here…

“My Lady,” Uraume’s calm voice trickles from behind as they draw near.

You don’t react. Instead, you keep your gaze ahead as if willing yourself to wake from this nightmare. Tears burn as they form at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t allow them to fall.

An uneasy quiet settles as the thundering of hooves finally dissipates, broken only by the gentle chirping of crickets in the receding forest and the steady summer breeze teasing the trees.

“It’s time to come inside,” Uraume presses.

Come inside.

It’s such a simple request. And yet, you don’t want to oblige. The shrine is too dark, too heinous. Filled with things you aren’t ready to experience. Filled with a thing you aren’t ready to experience.

You must stay. You have to do this.

After a moment, you force down the tightness in your throat and wipe your face with the sleeve of your kimono, fingers grazing your bruise.

You pull a deep breath of fresh air into your lungs, knowing you won’t taste it where you are going.

You turn to Uraume.

“Okay.”

They nod, leading you back through the massive doors, swallowing you whole.

* * * * *

At this late hour, the shrine appears different. It’s so still—not a soul in sight. No attendants are hurrying along, no heavy footsteps. Nothing.

It’s deathly still.

As you pass the central hall, you glance through the cavernous doors, which stand slightly ajar. The low wooden tables that had been present earlier have now been removed, leaving only a vast, untouched expanse. Only the King of Curses’ throne sits inside.

Your eyes cut back to Uraume, watching the delicate white strands of their hair that barely seem to move as they walk.

A knot of anxiety tightens in your chest as you wring your hands, and slick sweat forms between your palms. You can't shake the uneasy feeling of not knowing where they’re leading you.

They take you through the labyrinthine corridors, their white kimono guiding you in the darkness as the lanterns have all been doused, leaving you in twilight.

You find yourself wondering where the monster might be at this hour. Is he asleep? Does he even sleep? If so, where?

Finally, Uraume leads you down a familiar corridor, approaching your chambers.

When they open the door to your room, it lets out a mournful squeak as it moves along the track, causing you to wince and grit your teeth against the sound.

As you step into the room, Uraume follows inside and closes the door behind you with a soft click. They move to the room's far corner and carefully light a small lantern. The gentle, flickering light of the flame chases away the shadows, casting a warm glow over the space.

With the room illuminated, you notice a small plate of food sitting on the low table. You eye it suspiciously.

Uraume continues to prepare the space. Moving to the futon, they methodically spread the layers of soft silk and cotton, fluffing the pillows with careful precision.

You can’t help but wonder if all this hospitality is some sort of trick or a cruel joke. The question lingers on the tip of your tongue. You want to ask, but you push it aside for now.

“Is the room to your liking, my Lady?” Uraume inquires, not looking up from their task.

You watch their pale hands move in the dim light, almost ghostly in their delicate motions.

“Oh… uh, yes, thank you,” you reply, shuffling your feet awkwardly.

Once they appear satisfied with their work, though their face remains emotionless, they move towards you. Their critical eye falls on your dirt-covered kimono, and their lips thin. They move to help you out of the garment, and you take a step back.

“I can do it myself, thank you,” you insist quietly.

Although you allowed attendants to bathe you today, you intend for that to be a one-time exception. You generally prefer not to be touched, especially by Sukuna’s head subordinate, even though Uraume doesn’t seem overtly hostile.

They nod and move towards the door, hands sliding neatly inside their kimono sleeves.

“I will leave you for the evening,” they say, glancing at the plate of food on the table. “Please make sure you eat something. It appears you did not have dinner.”

Uraume was correct, which made them perceptive. Troublesome.

“Yes, thank you,” you mumble, as they turn to leave. “Before you go, could you please tell me what will be expected of me in my new role here as—” you swallow, “Lord Sukuna’s wife?”

You want to blend in here as much as possible. Remain inconspicuous, stay out of trouble, and go unnoticed until it’s time to make a move.

“You will be expected to follow the master’s orders, whatever he deems appropriate,” Uraume says. How vague. “And tomorrow, you will be assigned your own attendants.”

You give a subtle nod, before they start to move away again.

“Oh, one last thing—where are his chambers?”

Uraume pauses to scrutinize you for a moment, and you make every effort to appear as docile as possible, offering a smile that conveys: You are not here to assassinate him.

“To the right. The door at the end of this corridor,” they instruct, with a tone of almost detached certainty, as though Sukuna’s hubris might somehow protect him from being murdered in his sleep.

The same corridor as yours. How convenient.

You nod with a small ‘thank you,’ intending to dismiss them.

With their hands still tucked inside their sleeves, Uraume suddenly withdraws one and reveals a small piece of cloth. They turn it in their hand once before passing it to you.

Confused, you accept it and notice a fresh clump of ice nestled inside.

Raising your gaze to Uraume, you find them regarding your bruise with a pointed look.

“Goodnight, my Lady.”

Turning, they silently slip from your room and shut the door behind them.

* * * * *

The events of the day chew at you, making sleep impossible. Tossing and turning on the futon in your new chamber, you've been staring at the same spot on the ceiling for hours.

What time is it? One? Two? Three in the morning?

The clump of ice that Uraume gave you for your contusion has long since melted, leaving only a damp cloth behind. You want to feel gratitude for their gesture, but you remind yourself that everyone here sees you as both property and prisoner of their master.

Sighing, you turn onto your side and glance at the ceramic plate. You have mostly eaten the food, except for the meat, which you've pushed to one side.

You lie there restlessly, straining to hear any sound, but the silence is nearly maddening. Were it still raining, the steady rhythm might provide some relief from the oppressive stillness, perhaps even lulling you to sleep.

Yet, silence could also be a good sign.

You roll to your back.

Considering the possibility that the quiet means no one is around, maybe you can slip unnoticed to his chambers and finish this.

Two months.

You sit up and place your feet on the cold wooden floor. Your silk gloves lie on the table, but you won't need them for this.

Rising, you approach the door, taking care to apply minimal pressure to avoid making noise. It takes you at least a minute to open it as quietly as possible.

Standing in the doorway, you peer into the velvet darkness of the corridor.

You glance left, then right. Silence. It's so quiet, so dark.

Stepping out cautiously, you move to your right and begin walking. Your steps are faint and slightly unsteady.

The corridor’s width and depth are deep, like descending through a vast, elongated throat, with Sukuna’s chambers at the end serving as the stomach. Given what you have observed in the shrine’s layout, his room appears to be at the heart of the structure.

You shiver as you continue, flexing your hands at your sides.

As you approach the door, you notice a faint, diffused light filtering beneath it.

He’s awake.

A ringing sound begins to flood your ears, drowning out all other sensations. Almost as if you are in a trance, you lose all awareness of your feet beneath you.

At last, you reach the massive door.

Standing before them, you extend your arm. The sound in your ears is so loud you don’t register the sound of your knocking once, twice, a third time.

When the buzzing finally stops, sounds pierce through your settling haze—lewd sounds.

A deep grunt. A whine. No, two whines. Two women? Followed by some other indiscernible sounds that make your skin flush from head to toe.

"The fuck is it, Uraume?" Sukuna's irate, out-of-breath voice barks from the other side.

Shit.

It’s too late now.

You clear your throat and draw your shoulders back.

"It's not Uraume, it's me, my Lord.” Your voice seems to echo down the corridor as you call out.

There’s no response from within.

Your yukata suddenly feels too tight, as if it wants to strangle you to death. You stare at the dark wooden door impatiently, considering turning back.

Then, there is the sound of skin on skin, a small keening noise that makes you wince, followed by the shuffling of fabric.

Silence.

Heavy footsteps.

Bang!

The left side of the sliding door rips open, making you jump.

You come face to face with one very sweaty, very bare-chested Ryomen Sukuna—eye level with his sternum, a prominent pectoral muscle glares you in the face. His slate grey hakama rests precariously low on his hips, as though thrown on hastily. Although you've seen him like this once before, this encounter feels entirely different—more intimate and unsettling.

He’s been fucking.

Your body tenses as you realize this is the closest you've ever been to experiencing the act, just by proximity.

The heat radiating from his skin catches in your throat, stifling the air around you. You swear you can feel the strands of hair around your face beginning to curl from the warmth and a bead of sweat forming on your upper lip.

Unintentionally, your eyes drift to his right, peeking into the room beyond. For a fleeting moment, you glimpse the two attendants from earlier, their naked flesh illuminated by the soft lantern light within. In an instant, Sukuna’s two right arms shoot up, gripping the doorframe with startling speed, making a dull thud as they strike the wood. The two women vanish from sight, concealed by his muscled arms, leaving only his imposing figure before you.

Collecting yourself, you tip your chin up to meet his gaze.

The lantern’s glow from his chambers casts a dull light, silhouetting him. His red orbs peer into you, their intensity practically blazing against the darkness of the corridor.

“It’s quite late, wife. Yet here you are at my door. Why?” His voice is stern, and he leans in slightly, closing the distance between you. His immense frame eats everything in your vision.

Under normal circumstances, this question might be amusing. What wife wouldn’t seek out her husband on their wedding night?

"I wanted to say goodnight," you reply. A weak excuse, but you manage to keep your voice calm, measured, and sweet, although fake.

You force your eyes to widen and attempt to make them flash with a hint of playfulness, trying to project a confidence that you know isn’t there.

“Hmh,” Sukuna exhales dismissively. “Wanted to say goodnight,” he repeats with an annoyed grumble that causes your facade to waver.

His fingers begin to drum along the doorframe, thick veins pulsing beneath the skin of his hands with each movement. The pads of his fingers tap out a rhythm—short, sharp, and deliberate, as though taunting you.

He keeps drumming and drumming and drumming, the relentless beat almost in sync with your pounding heart.

You struggle to keep your composure, the walls you've erected for this encounter crumbling. Your fingers betray you as you dig your index fingernail into the cuticle of your thumb, the sharp pain biting into your flesh.

Suddenly, the drumming of his fingers stops.

Sukuna’s upper eyes fixate on your face, while the lower ones briefly observe your fidgeting hand. The corners of his mouth twitch, as if caught between suppressing a smirk and maintaining a contemplative frown. A heartbeat later, the right side of his mouth gradually tips upward, and his eyelids lower slightly, growing heavy as he directs his full attention toward you.

An expression of heated intrigue washes over him.

There it is. That’s what you've been waiting for.

You hold his gaze, and he holds yours.

His eyes search you, as if attempting to unravel every hidden thought you hold. But you would never allow that to happen. Revealing even a sliver of yourself to the King of Curses would only lead to misery, and he would take perverse delight in your ruin.

His four eyes darken, pupils dilating, swallowing red.

Got you now, you bastard.

“Master.” A whiny voice from one of the women breaks the tension between you two.

“Shut up,” he snaps, not looking away, but his expression shifts. His fingers dig into the doorframe, and the tendons in his arms strain as if agitated.

Determined to regain the upper hand, you try one of your sister’s tactics. You push a charming smile onto your face, hoping to pull him back into you. But the effect is immediate, and it’s not what you wanted. His mouth twitches, expression faltering.

“Please, Master Sukuna. We need you,” she begs again.

He casts you one last look before a crease forms above his nose and turns his head. His four eyes disappear as he looks over his right shoulder, bringing his left shoulders closer to you.

He’s distracted.

Your gaze is drawn to the large black circular ink on his lower left shoulder. It seems to call out to you, like it’s screaming.

You feel Sukuna’s deep voice rumbling through your body as he speaks to the women, but the words are shapeless syllables.

He’s distracted.

You must stay.

Sifting inside yourself, you concentrate on activating your gift. Once you feel it tingling against your skin, you extend your arm, palm flat and fingertips poised, and reach for him.

You have to do this—

Bang!

The sliding door crashes back into place, extinguishing the light and leaving you alone in the darkness.

You hear Sukuna’s heavy footsteps pad across the wooden floor within the room. There’s a slap of skin, followed by a high-pitched squeal.

You bunch your hand into a fist and resist throwing it straight through the door.

The noises get more deranged, so you retreat hastily, wanting to avoid hearing him in his throes of passion or, more so, depravity.

When you return to your chamber, you slide the door shut and crawl onto your futon.

Staring at the ceiling once more, you reflect on what just happened.

Although you failed in your second attempt to kill him, you may have uncovered something revealing.

Despite the presence of two warm bodies, he still chose to open the door to you.

That expression on his face.

In light of all the bravado and arrogance he has thrown at you, it seems the King of Curses was lying when he claimed he didn’t want you.

* * * * *

🔗 Chapter 5

#true form sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #beneath the silk #jjk fanfic #dark content #dark romance #sukuna smut

28 notes · View notes

rosieswriting · 1 day ago

Text

Barty Crouch Jr x Hufflepuff!reader

Summary: After the birthday of your dear friend, Pandora Rosier, Barty doesn´t seem as bad as he did before

Note: I took one of the request of reader "tutoring" barty not knowing he doesn´t need it by @treefairy-28 thank youuuu. And english is not my first language so it probably has some mistakes! And i will do a part 2 to where things get really interesting

Words: 3,2K

You’d always hated Barty Crouch Junior. Everything about him grated on your nerves—the way he spoke too loudly in class, yet still managed to top every exam; the infuriating pet names he used for you; his smug belief that being a Slytherin somehow made him superior, especially to Hufflepuffs like you. His walk, his talk—everything about him seemed designed to annoy you. Luckily, you’d always managed to ignore him. Until now.

You’d recently been paired with Pandora Rosier for a Potions project, and to your surprise, you’d quickly grown close. How had you not been friends before? She was sweet, caring, and easy to talk to—similar to you in so many ways. When her birthday rolled around, she invited you to a small celebration at the Three Broomsticks with her twin, Evan, and a few of his friends. Including him. You’d thought long and hard about it, knowing you’d have to deal with Barty, but in the end, you decided to go. After all, it was for Pandora, and you could always try to ignore him.

The Three Broomsticks was packed, busier than you’d expected. It seemed half of Hogwarts was out celebrating. Just as you were scanning the room, you heard Pandora’s cheerful voice calling your name.

“Happy Birthday!” you said warmly, pulling her into a hug and handing her a small box containing a silver necklace.

Pandora’s eyes lit up as she opened it. “Oh, I love this! Thank you so much,” she beamed, hugging you again. “Come on, we’re over here.”

She led you through the crowded room toward a cozy corner table. And, of course, as you approached, you saw Evan Rosier, Regulus Black and Barty leaning back in his chair, already watching you with that familiar smirk.

“Hi” you mumbled a bit shyly to the slytherin as you sat next to Pandora, and to your luck, Barty was seated right in front of you. Regulus and Evan gave you a slight nod of acknowledgment and continue their conversation.

“Look who decided to join us” Barty teased raising his eyebrows “Dindt think you would show up, Treasure”

“Barty” Pandora said with a warning tone to his friend, trying to shut him up. But he only raised his hands in self innocence and exuse himself with a poor “just trying to start a conversation”

“I wouldn’t miss Dora´s birthday just because I have to deal with you, Junior” you said with a fake sweet smile to him.

“Deal with me? You wound me Badger” he said and you rolled your eyes at the nickname.

“If its any consolation, im actually impressed that your ego managed to fit through the door” is the last thing you say before turning to talk to Pandora and ignore him.

You and your blonde friend talk for some time, she telling you about how her birthday has been and all the presents she got. At some point you start to get thirsty.

“Im gonna ask for something to drink, ill be right back” you say kindly as you stand up from the chair.

“I’ll go with you” you hear Barty says as he stands up as well.

“Great” you whisper under your breath as you start to make your way to the bar, him following behind you.

You ordered a butterbeer, and Barty, naturally, ordered the same, positioning himself so close that his shoulder brushed against yours. The warm, subtle contact sent an unexpected flutter through you, though you tried to ignore it.

“I must admit,” he began, leaning down just enough to speak directly into your ear, “when Evan told us Dora would invite you, my expectations for tonight went up higher.”

“Good for you,” you muttered, turning to face him with an eye roll, only to find his face so close that you could feel his breath on your cheek. You quickly turned your gaze forward again, pretending to study the bottles lined up behind the bar. He chuckled, catching the slight blush that had crept up your cheeks “When Dora mentioned you were coming, I almost declined her invitation” you continued, doing your best to sound unfazed

“If you say so. But, can I just say, you show up here looking like this, put me in my place with that sweet, sassy voice of yours… you’re killing me here.”

Despite yourself, you feel warmth creeping up your cheeks. Thankfully, the bartender hands you both your drinks before you have to answer. You turn to make your way back to the table, but Barty steps in front of you, forcing you to stop short as he smirks down at you, close enough that you catch the faintest spark in his gaze.

“You know, I think you secretly like driving me a little mad,” he murmurs, amusement flickering in his eyes. “It’s cute, really—seeing you pretend to be so above it all.”

“Pretend?” you scoff, raising an eyebrow as you try to sidestep him. “Trust me, Junior, I’m not pretending anything.”

“Oh, really?” he asks, following you smoothly, keeping pace as you try to dodge around him. “Then explain why you look so flustered.”

“I’m not—” You stop, realizing he’s caught you, the faint blush on your cheeks betraying you. You try to shrug it off, holding your head high. “In your dreams, Junior”

He grins, leaning in close enough that his voice is a murmur just for you. “Oh, Treasure. In my dreams we are doing more than talking. Belive me”

You huffed, finally brushing past him and making your way back to the table. “Idiot,” you muttered, though you couldn’t ignore the faint thrill left in the air.

Sliding back into your seat next to Pandora, you tried to steady yourself as she happily dove back into conversation, thankfully distracting you from the lingering heat in your cheeks and Barty’s lingering gaze across the table.

As the night wore on, you and the slytherins stepped out of the warm, bustling atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks into the chilly night air. The sharp bite of winter nipped at your skin, making you shiver as you wrapped your arms around yourself in a futile attempt to keep warm. You hadn’t brought a jacket and now you were regretting it.

Pandora was chatting animatedly with Evan and Regulus, blissfully unaware of your growing discomfort. Barty walked alongside you, his familiar smirk already playing on his lips. You knew he was about to make a comment, and you braced yourself.

Without warning, Barty slipped off his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders, pulling it tightly around you before you had the chance to protest. “Here, wear this,” he said, his voice low and smooth, ignoring your startled expression. “You look like you’re about to freeze to death.”

You blinked at him, flustered. “You don´t have to-” you start but he cuts you off.

“Please, like I’d let you suffer while I stand here all warm and toasty.” He chuckled. “You show up looking all stunning, and I won’t let you ruin it by turning into an icicle.”

Your cheeks flushed at the unexpected gesture, the warmth of his jacket enveloping you like a shield. You tried to regain your composure, shivering slightly as you adjusted the jacket to fit more snugly. “Thanks, but I don’t need your charity, Junior.” You weren´t willing to give up that easily.

“Oh, is that what you’re calling it? Charity?” he teased, falling into step beside you again, his grin infuriatingly charming. “I thought it was more of a gentlemanly move, if you will.”

“Gentlemanly? You?” You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “You must be joking.”

“Why so skeptical? I can be quite the gentleman when the mood strikes me,” he said, leaning in closer again, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides, I can’t have my favorite Hufflepuff catching a cold now, can I?”

You felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks at his words, and you tried to deflect, “You’re just doing this to annoy me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” he replied, a cheeky glint in his eyes. “But I also happen to enjoy the view when you’re flustered. You should see your face right now. It’s adorable.”

“Adorable?” You repeated incredulously, fighting the urge to smile. “You really think you’re charming, don’t you?”

He leaned back slightly, feigning deep thought. “Well, I wouldn’t say charming. More like irresistible.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile as you shot him a glare. “Keep dreaming, Junior.”

“Trust me, I will,” he shot back with that devil-may-care grin.

Pandora turned to you both, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Oh my gosh, you two are so cute! You’re practically flirting!” she gushed, completely unaware of your desire to bury your face in your hands.

“Flirting?” you exclaimed, turning to Barty in disbelief. “This isn’t flirting; it’s sheer torture!”

Barty chuckled, his gaze locked on yours, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Torture? Maybe I’ll have to keep it up then. Can’t have you getting too comfortable, can we?”

As you walked back to Hogwarts, you could feel the weight of his jacket around your shoulders, and though you’d never admit it, the warmth was more than just physical. Despite the banter and the bickering, you couldn’t shake the flutter in your stomach. Barty Crouch Junior might drive you mad, but maybe—just maybe—there was something nice about having him around after all.

You arrive to Hogwarts and everyone makes their way to their common room, the boys to Slytherin´s, Pandora to Ravenclaw´s and you to Hufflepuff´s. You get into your dorm quietly, because even if it was a Friday night, your roomates were sleeping.

As you began to undress, you suddenly realized you still had Barty’s jacket draped over your shoulders. Great, you thought with an eye roll. Now I have to see him again. You sighed, folding it neatly and placing it in your wardrobe alongside your other clothes.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to wash off your makeup and change into your pajamas, you settled into bed. The comfort of your blankets enveloped you, but no matter how hard you tried to shake it off, the memory of Barty's teasing grin lingered in your mind.

You hated that the last thought before sleep was that goddamn smirk of his—so infuriating yet somehow captivating. With a frustrated huff, you turned over, determined to banish thoughts of him, but the image of his charming arrogance persisted, a playful reminder of the night’s events.

You woke up the next day, the soft sunlight filtering through the windows of your dormitory. The quiet of the weekend morning was a welcome contrast to the usual hustle and bustle of school life. You moved through your routine slowly, knowing you had no classes to rush to today. After freshing up, you dressed casually and made your way to the Great Hall for breakfast. You decided to take Barty´s jacket with you, so you could return it as soon as possible.

And thanks to Merlin, when you enter the Great Hall you immediately spotted him at the Slytherin table with his friends. You wave at your own friends and make them a signal to wait for you as you approached the green table, your friends staring at you like you had gone crazy.

“Junior” you call out softly from behind him.

Barty´s head whipped around, his grin widening when he saw you “Treasure!” his voice was full of amusement as he looked you up and down “Miss me alredy?”

You rolled your eyes and extended his jacket over him “Im here to return this, and to say thank you again” even if he was insufferable, you were always polite.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased by your words, as he took the jacket from you “You know, I was hoping you would keep it for longer. You did look amazing in it. Not that I didn’t like you in your top, of course”

You felt the heat increasing in your cheeks at his words but try to hide it with a scoff, your hands instinctively moving to fold your arms across your chest. “Whatever” you muttered, stepping back and already starting to turn away “Goodbye”

Some days later you were sitting with your friends in the courtyard, laughing as you discussed the latest mishap in Potions class, when you noticed a familiar figure making his way toward you. Barty Crouch Jr, in all his swagger, had that unmistakable smirk as he approached your small circle, his eyes already fixed on you.

"Treasure," he greeted smoothly, nodding to your friends before focusing entirely on you. "Got a minute?"

You raised an eyebrow, a bit taken aback that he’d be seeking you out in broad daylight, in front of witnesses no less. “Depends. What do you want, Junior?”

He chuckled, unfazed by your tone. "Pandora said you’re somewhat of an expert in Magical Creatures. Thought maybe you could help a struggling Slytherin with a few... basics.”

Your friends exchanged glances, one of them biting back a smile as they elbowed each other. You tried to ignore it, focusing on Barty. “Struggling?” you echoed, skeptical. “You’re one of the top students. Why do you need my help?”

He shrugged, managing to look both innocent and mischievous. “Call it an off week. I could use some extra guidance.”

One of your friends couldn’t resist chiming in, “Are you sure you don’t just want to copy her notes, Barty?”

“Oh, I’d love to copy,” he said, giving you a pointed look, “but I think I’d learn more if we… studied together. Say, this afternoon?”

“Fine,” you said, ignoring the snickers from your friends. “The library at six?”

“Or my room?” he suggested, not missing a beat. “Much quieter. Comfier too.”

You rolled your eyes, even as your friends burst into laughter. “Nice try. The library will do just fine.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning disappointment. “Heartbreaking, really. I was hoping for a more… private lesson.”

“Guess you’ll just have to settle for learning in public,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “See you at six, Junior.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said, his smirk widening.

With that, he turned and sauntered off, leaving your friends barely containing their laughter.

“Oh, Merlin,” one of them said as soon as he was out of earshot, “did Barty Crouch Jr. just ask you for a tutoring session?”

You sighed, trying not to show the flutter of nerves in your stomach. “Apparently. And he’d better actually need help with Magical Creatures.”

But even as you turned back to your conversation, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this “study session” was going to be anything but ordinary.

That evening, you made your way to the library with a stack of notes on magical creatures and a determination to focus—no matter how distracting your “student” might try to be. When you arrived, you saw Barty lounging at a back table, idly flipping through a book that looked suspiciously unrelated to magical creatures.

“Good, you’re here,” he said with a grin as you sat down. “I was starting to think you’d stand me up.”

You rolled your eyes as you sat in front of him “Almost did” you mumble under your breath as you opened your book and notes. The library was quiet as you huddled over a hefty tome on magical creatures, quills and parchment spread across the table between you. It seemed like he was genuinely focused—or at least, he pretended to be.

“Alright, Junior” you said, pointing to a section in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, “why don’t you tell me everything you know about hippogriffs?”

He gave you a thoughtful look, scratching his chin as if deep in concentration. “Hmm… majestic creatures, proud, can be very dangerous if approached incorrectly… does that sound right?”

You tilted your head, eyeing him suspiciously. “So you do know about them, after all. That’s a decent start.”

“Well, I have the basics,” he said with a little grin, “but I wouldn’t call myself an expert. That’s where you come in, Treasure.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, nudging the book closer to him. “Alright, fine. Hippogriffs are proud, but there’s more to them than that. They’re highly sensitive and require respect—bowing to them before approaching is essential.”

He nodded, trying to keep a straight face, though you could tell he was amused. “Bowing. Got it. Sort of like dealing with you, isn’t it? Respect, admiration…”

You huffed, fighting the warmth creeping into your cheeks. “Keep it up, and I’ll leave you to fend for yourself next time we have a test.”

“Anything but that,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, though his grin didn’t fade. “You’re far too charming when you’re lecturing me on magical creatures.”

You ignored him and went over a few more creatures, each time finding him surprisingly attentive. He asked questions—good ones, actually—and seemed engaged in a way you hadn’t expected. You started to think maybe he genuinely did want to learn more about the subject.

As the library began to empty, you glanced at the time. “We should probably get some dinner before the house-elves clear the tables,” you said, gathering your notes.

You started to walk to the Great Hall, still in conversation about the finer points of bowtruckles, when something slipped out from under his arm and fluttered to the ground. You instinctively bent down to pick it up, and your eyes widened as you caught sight of the parchment. It was an essay titled “The Lifecycle of Thestrals” with “A” scrawled at the top in red ink. The neat handwriting and the perfectly structured points left no doubt: Barty had known exactly what he was doing in Care of Magical Creatures all along.

You blinked, looking from the essay to Barty, who wore a guilty-but-unbothered grin.

“What’s this?” you asked, eyebrows raised. “You didn’t need my help at all, did you?”

“Guilty as charged,” he replied, his smirk widening.

You scoffed, folding your arms. “Unbelievable. So you wasted my time?”

He leaned in, voice dropping to a low murmur. “Come on, can you really blame me?” His eyes held that familiar glint. “When Pandora mentioned you were the go-to expert on magical creatures, I knew I couldn’t miss the chance. I mean, who wouldn’t want to spend a few hours with someone as pretty as you, Treasure?”

Heat crept up your cheeks, and you looked away, trying not to let him see how flustered you felt. “You are unbelievable,” you muttered, but your voice came out softer than you intended.

“Unbelievably charming? I’ll take it,” he said, grinning as you approached the Great Hall. “I had a great time, by the way. Maybe next time, we can have a... more private study session.”

He threw you a wink before sauntering off toward the Slytherin table, leaving you standing there, cheeks flushed, speechless, and—if you were being honest with yourself—a bit confused. Because somehow, despite his insufferable arrogance, the idea of spending more time with him didn’t sound half as annoying as you’d expected.

#marauders era #bartemius crouch jr #barty crouch jr #barty crouch jr x reader #barty crouch jr x you #barty crouch junior #slytherin skittles #hufflepuff reader

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hotdsworld · 20 hours ago

Text

"Property" Aemond Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen x F!Stark!Reader

a/n: hello again! Y'all, ofc I'm getting back with more horny. Starting off with hotd but I have a fair share of filthy also for Avatar lovers. Dividers from lovely @cafekitsune

Summary: An arranged marriage or not, that man still belongs to you and you only.

Word count: 3,2k

Warnings: 18+, subby Aemond, hair pulling, 69, piv, handjob, no protection, breeding, bondage, impreg, dom Reader

You were the Lady of the North, younger sister of the formidable Cregan Stark. Your heart was as cold and unyielding as Winterfell itself, yet it seemed to beat a little bit differently whenever he was with others. It was beneath you to be jealous, especially of your arranged husband, whom you claimed to not care for. Prideful as you were, your pride seemed insignificant now as you watched the wench clinging to his arm. It wasn't the jealousy that gnawed at you, it was the disrespect he showed towards your marriage. Arranged or not, it was still a marriage.

The other ladies mingled with such ease, their charm and beautiful smiles flowing effortlessly. Why was it so difficult for you? You were his wife, yet you couldn't seem to catch his attention as they did. Sometimes, you wish you learned the art of charm instead of hunting… it would make everything so much easier.

Once his eye met yours you shook your head, feigning disinterest. Aemond smirked, clearly relishing the sight of you bothered by him receiving the attention of another lady. Was it the jealousy that fueled your glare, or did you truly despise him to look at him with such disdain? It didn't matter to Aemond. He knew that a wolf can be tamed, it just requires patience… and he had plenty of it. He had no interest in other ladies especially when they spoke of nonsense he did not wish to hear about, but seeing you like this? Looking as if you wanted to murder the lady and even him for looking at her? He could not resist teasing you a bit, enjoying the fire in your eyes. Aemond leaned a little closer to the lady, who seemed so joyful about the little gesture. You rolled your eyes, getting back to the castle. You wished to stay composed and something about Aemond chatting so nicely with others made your blood boil.

It was evening. The time when Aemond could finally relax if only a little. His perfectly straight hair had now taken on its natural curls, a look you secretly preferred, though you would never admit it. You watched him intently, as if there was something new to discover. He was sitting by the fire, absentmindedly playing with his fingers. You wondered what he was thinking about… his family? Your marriage? You didn't turn your gaze from him even for a second. You couldn't deny his attractiveness, biting your lip as you imagined all the things those slender fingers could do to you-

“Perhaps you are somewhat a predator. Always watching, no?” His voice broke the silence, pulling you out of your thoughts. Though he didn't turn to look at you, you felt the full weight of his attention on you. He was a mystery yet to be solved. You took a deliberate step closer, your eyes running all over his figure, almost appreciatively. He was truly like prey to you, and it was up to you what you were going to do with him. You took a step towards him, wondering if you should sit on the armchair beside him or remain standing. Standing was putting you in the dominant position, sitting offered some kind of intimacy… You crossed your arms on your chest.

“If you know I'm watching it means you are observing too,” you remarked, not failing to notice the slight crack in his smile. Aemond didn't expect his wife to be so perceptive. The realization seemed to amuse him. You licked your lips, carefully considering your next move. The room was filled with unspoken tension, a silent battle of wills.

“One would want to know what his wife is up to, don't you think?” A hint of challenge in his tone. You would gladly take one. You moved closer, stopping right in front of him. He was much taller than you, but now that he was sitting he was the one who needed to look up. His eye took in your face even though he knew it like the back of his hand. You were always hidden in Winterfell, he needed to admit: his mother made a great choice to betroth him to you. Such a hidden gem… who would have thought? Aemond never seemed so fascinated by a lady until now.

You leaned in slightly, your presence commanding his full attention, and he was gladly giving it to you. Your fingers traced a light path down his hair. So soft and silky… you always wondered how it would feel beneath your fingers. You tugged on it, unable to stop yourself. Aemond tensed, not respecting such boldness from you. His reaction only fueled your confidence. You moved even closer, your breath warm against his neck. You didn't know why you were getting close… you felt the need to claim and the prey was right there, ready to be devoured. You sat on his lap comfortably, your fingers trailing to his collar… your touch was light but deliberate. His eye followed your every movement, a mix of curiosity and desire in his gaze. You leaned closer, your lips brushing against his sensitive neck. Aemond began to breathe heavily; he felt like if you didn't stop, he was going to rip your clothes apart and take you right there on the floor like a teasing slut that you are.

“What do you want?” His voice husky. Aemond felt that if you asked him nicely, he would do anything for you. You were dangerous, perhaps he underestimated you and your power. You pretended to think about it, even though you knew damn well what you needed from him.

“I want you to take your clothes off,” you stood up. His jaw clenched as your touch left him abruptly. Aemond hated being submissive, but somehow deep inside of him made him remove his tunic. You watched with fascination almost. “The eyepatch too. I want you to be truly naked.” You had him concerned, your prey… maybe the hunting skills are useful here after all. He stood naked as you admired him in his full glory. It seemed like all the training paid off. You couldn't help but think of what you wanted to do to him… you wanted to own the Targaryen Prince. You wanted him to be completely and utterly yours. You grabbed a few of your ropes which were hidden beneath the bed. Aemond raised his eyebrow, as if questioning you..

“Do you want me to tie you up, Zokli?” Aemond could already imagine you squirming underneath him as he pounds into you without any breaks, he would have you screaming.

“That little wolf is going to tie YOU up, dragon.” Aemond didn't even have a chance to protest. You pushed him back on the bed, your hands working swiftly on the knots. After you restricted his movement, you tied him up to the bed; he was completely at your mercy… It was new to Aemond, but he found himself finding it exciting. His cock rock hard, begging for attention.

“Aren't you going to undress too?” He wanted to see his little wolf naked. He wanted to admire your boobs and that gorgeous ass. You smirked, sitting on the bed beside him. Painfully close, yet not touching him. Aemond was frustrated, any woman would have been pleasuring him by now or begging for him to take her… but not you.

“Bold of you to assume you deserve to see it, my lord husband,” your fingers moved up his thigh. Before, you wouldn't expect that you would get the Targaryen prince in such a position. You found yourself enjoying it more than you should. You paused right before your hand could touch his cock, Aemond groaned, clearly displeased with your teasing.

“Do you see how hard I am for you, Zokli?” Aemond wanted to boost your ego, he just needed you to touch him. It felt like his balls were going to explode. How could he allow you to trap him like this? Maybe you were a witch, that would explain everything…

“Tell me,” your fingers trail around the length of his cock. You wanted it inside of you so bad, but you couldn't just let him have it all right away. Aemond looked into your eyes, curious of what you wanted to hear from him. He would do anything to feel more of you, no matter how much he despised himself for it. You spit on your hand to smear it all over his cock a while later. You began to stroke slowly, not breaking eye contact. Aemond grunts as your touch sends waves of pleasure through his body. “Tell me how much better I am than them. Tell me they don't get you as hard as I do,” maybe you were outing yourself by asking for it, but you needed to hear it. You needed to know your lord husband treasures you the most. You wanted him obsessed, unable to look away from you. Aemond did want to tease you for your jealousy but he answered before his brain could register it.

“They will never be as interesting as you. In a room full of women I see only you. It matters not if my gaze is on them, in my head there's only you. The best fucking thing is you don't seem to notice how tempting you are. If I look at you for too long I'm already leaking precum, princess” he will hate himself after for it, but right now his judgment was clouded by pleasure. His pride didn't matter, none of it mattered. Only the feeling of your hand moving up and down his cock. “Don't stop,” it was a demand, it was supposed to be a demand but it came out more like a plea. Aemond could feel himself getting closer. He didn't settle for ladies of a brothel or the court, so his balls were full. You paused, savoring the moment, the power you held over him. Aemond clenched his jaw as you ruined his orgasm. You giggled innocently, getting rid of your gown. Aemond admired your body, he wished he could suck on those breasts. You were perfect.

“Now now, I deserve some pleasure too, don't you think? You can't move, I know” you straddled his face, your dripping wet pussy hovering over his face. You leaned down forward, to get the access to his cock, settling nicely in sixty-nine position.

“Sit on my face, stop fucking playing,” he growled, eager to get a taste of you. If he wasn't tied up he would pull you down and eat you out until tomorrow, but you have to be fucking clever. You offered him a few playful kisses on the tip before sucking on the head of his cock, your hands grasping his balls, massaging them. You were gradually taking him deeper, sucking eagerly as your hands played with his balls. Aemond's eye surrounded as a moan left his lips. You lowered yourself on his face, knowing that he's close but he didn't complain, licking all over your wet folds before pushing his tongue inside of you. He was sloppy with eating you out, humming and moaning both from the way you sucked his cock and how you tasted. You kept going, moaning around his cock, moving your hips to get more of his tongue. You were getting close and so was he… when you felt him tense you straightened your back, getting away from his cock. Aemond groaned against your cunt, but didn't stop his ministrations. You were cruel, but maybe he did deserve it for teasing you for days. You pulled on his curls as the pleasure began to build up, unable to control yourself. You needed to hold onto something and his hair was perfect for it. You closed your eyes, desperately pulling on his hair and moving your hips. With every pull his cock twitched, Aemond felt like he was going to cum untouched. You pulled once more as the orgasm washed over you, your thighs shaking. Aemond eagerly devoured your sweet juices, licking you clean. You closed your eyes, taking a moment to catch your breath. You sat beside him, fingers running down his abs.

“You are going to pay for this,” he threatened, even though it sounded rather pathetic now. You straddled him lazily, grinding against his cock. He was painfully hard and you found yourself enjoying driving him crazy in such a way.

“Now now, be nice or you won't get to fuck my pussy, my lord husband” you grinned, grinding against him. You wanted it as much as he did, but you had to punish him for getting too friendly with those wenches, no? He deserved to be treated like this, he deserved to be forced into submission.

“Stop teasing,” he groaned, clearly frustrated. Aemond needed to cum, he needed to feel your pussy, he needed to fuck you. No matter how hard he struggled against the ropes they wouldn't give in. You smiled innocently, looking at him as if you had no idea of what he was talking about. It turned into an evil smirk real quick. Your fingers playing with his hair.

“Beg me. Beg me to ride you, Aemond. I want you to beg and convince me that you are only mine,” you tugged on his hair, as if urging him to do as you wished. Aemond closed his eye, frustrated with you. He was torn between obeying and telling you off. How dare you? Asking a Prince to beg for a fuck? There were many eager for him, yet he chose to chase after you. His cock was aching and he wasn't thinking clearly, he needed to be inside of you. To beg was to show weakness, and it wasn't something he could afford. Yet, you held more power over him than he would like to admit.

“I don't beg,” he said sharply, trying to detach himself from the situation. He couldn't allow you to dominate him, not like this. Aemond never begged in his life and he didn't wish to change it. Aemond acted as he wasn't the pathetic one, all tied up, just waiting for your mercy.

“Prideful as ever, Aemond. But pride won't get you what you desire,” you grind against him, as to remind him what he can get if he begs. Aemond wanted to strangle you right there, how could you play with him like this? If he allows this… what else will he allow? You were dangerous.

“Laughing now… you won't be laughing once the ropes are off,” a predatory gleam in his eye. Aemond was too deep in this. He needed you, right here right now. Aemond took a deep breath, cursing himself. “You want me to beg?” His voice dropping to a whisper. You watched him intently, noticing how hard it is for him. “Please, Zokli. I need you more than anything else. I would set the Realm on the fire if you asked me to. Your every wish shall be my command. The gods knew what they were doing, intertwining the fate of a dragon and a wolf. Ride this cock until you’re sick of it, it's completely yours. I will rip my heart out of my chest if you only asked me to. Please,” he was desperate. He wasn't sure if he wanted you to believe him only for sex or if there was something deeper in it. You bit your lip, wondering if you should make him suffer more, but decided against it. You sank down onto his cock, savoring the way in which it was stretching you out. A small gasp left Aemond's lips as your velvety walls surrounded his cock. You began to move slowly, letting yourself adjust to his size. Aemond forced himself to keep his eye open, watching how your body moved on top of him. He was never on the bottom, but it was fucking hot to see you like this.

“Such a charmer you are,” you began to bounce on his thick cock faster, driving both of you crazy. You tugged on his hair, relishing in the way his cock twitched every single time. His cock was filling you up perfectly, leaving no room for anything else.

“Ride that cock, you slut. You were jealous? Show me that it's yours,” he urged, grunting with every bounce of yours. He was already close, but he held himself back for now. Aemond didn't want to cum before you. With your other hand, you began to tease your clit. “Fuck, you’re clenching when you do that,” Aemond hissed, trying to hold back the lewd sounds from coming out of his mouth. But every time you pulled on his curly hair he would moan like a slut. The pleasure began to build in your stomach, so you increased the pace. You were sure you would break the bed that way, but you didn't care. All that mattered was that cock inside of you.

“I was jealous,” you admit, caring not if he was going to tease you about it later. Aemond is your husband and you will be damned before anyone else gets him. “But I found a perfect solution. What a better way of showing how good our marriage is than a babe? They all will know you fuck me… and the ladies will back off because you’re pain. My property, my prey, my lord husband. Mine,” you were feral, but it was all because of him. Aemond was driving you crazy this whole time. He smirked upon hearing your words.

“Well, get yourself pregnant, Zolki. A whole litter of pups,” he sucked on your breasts. You tilted your head back, moaning loudly as he sucked on it hungrily, marking all over your chest. Every once in a while you would pull on his hair, so he doesn't forget who's truly in control… but Aemond loved it. No one could touch his hair, no one but you. “Take my seed, all of it. Carry it in your womb proudly, like a trophy. Show them who is the wife of Aemond Targaryen,” he interrupted himself just to encourage you, groaning as your pussy clenched around his dick. Aemond moved a bit, beginning to thrust up into you from underneath. Your eyes rolled back as you rubbed circles against your clit.

“Please, cum in me. Cum in me, Aemond. Show me that you are mine and fill up my womb with your seed. Do it,” you begged-demanded, riding him, desperately chasing your orgasm. Aemond bit your nipple gently, thrusting up into you rough. You screamed as your walls tightened around him and you came undone, pulling his hair hard. Aemond filled you up to the brim with his nice potent warm seed. You laid your head against his chest, exhausted. You were satisfied, it was the best orgasm you have ever had… He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, not attempting to pull out of you. Aemond closed his eye, trying to catch up his breath. No one has made him feel like this before. He didn't care about pride, all he wished to do was pleasing you: as a sub or as a dom, it mattered not because no matter what he is your property.

#aemond fic #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x y/n #aemond #aemond smut #hotd smut #house of the dragon #el fic

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