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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

Note

Dialogue prompt

“Because I knew you wouldn’t!”

Spicy or no

okay so this one got... weird on me. but this is the Bouncey Castle so you know the ending is soft as fuck

Also I got so into this that I forgot to use the prompt you sent me but... Here you go?

based on Tove Lo’s “Habits (Stay High)” - modern au ‘post mountain’

tw: party scene, alcohol mention, marijuana use for the wrong reasons, dumb boys having feelings in public, mild panic attack, hurt/comfort with a very fluffy ending

---

Jaskier slams the rest of his drink and delights in the crinkling sound of Solo’s signature red plastic crumpling in his fist. He’s got an elbow-length fingerless glove on the hand that crushed the cup; he looks good enough to fucking eat and he... he’s fucking lonely.

“Want a hit?” a voice asks from his left, offering a lit joint. The tip glows a light orange in the dim of the basement room and for a moment the young musician understands how Eve felt as she stared down the snake in the Garden of Eden. He pushes the thought aside with a whoop of overacted excitement and takes a drag, letting the smoke swirl into his lungs and mask the taste of whisky that somehow refuses to abandon the back of his tongue.

Notes of Geralt’s favorite brand, some stupidly expensive Scottish malt that, in Jaskier’s personal opinion, tasted like damp peat moss and smelled like shoe-shine, cling to his every breath.

He feels trapped, suddenly claustrophobic in his seat on some beat-up leather couch. Who are these people? He stands and sways, eyes darting towards the staircase. I need some air. He lurches forward, unsteady, and does his level best to swim through the crush of bodies in the darkness.

---

Jaskier loves the smell of damp earth. It reminds him of springtime and rain-showers. The almost primordial glee that fills his chest cavity when that familiar mustiness hangs in the air is indescribable.

Now, leaning against the dank brick wall of an apartment building somewhere just south of the park, the cheer escapes him. He pounds his hands backwards into the jagged brick, momentarily grateful for the distraction of physical pain; his eyes are full of tears that simply refuse to fall despite his greatest efforts.

The beer is wearing off and the one hit of weed hadn’t done much to begin with other than make him a little dizzy. He wishes he had something else on hand. He wishes he had grabbed something on the way out. He wishes...

Jaskier wishes Geralt hadn’t said all those terrible things in front of his best friend and ex-lover, effectively blaming his boyfriend for his problems and ending things for good.

He doesn’t want to think about-

“Jaskier?”

Geralt.

The musician glances up through his bangs and sees the blurred outline of a dark shape looming before him. Fuck my life.

“Oh hey, Geralt,” he laughs humorlessly. Isn’t this just fucking perfect. Why does he still have the worst fucking timing on the Continent?

“Are you okay?”

“What does it look like?” Jaskier laughs again. He wipes his eyes and nose on the sleeve of his denim jacket and the fishnets suddenly more childish than sexy... like he used to wear in middle school when he wanted nothing more than to marry Gerard Way and escape his life as a politician’s son.

“Do you- Are you going-”

“I can walk myself home, Geralt. I’m a big boy. I can be responsible,” Jaskier snaps. The taller man flinches away and Jaskier is surprised. He thought his ex would have been over him far earlier than this. The musician was always the emotional one. Geralt doesn’t say anything for a moment and Jaskier shakes his head, turning away towards his own apartment. “Nice seeing you, I suppose.”

He takes three steps and then hallucinates. It has to be some kind of auditory hallucination because he thinks, he’s very sure that he’s made it up but he thinks he hears Geralt gasp his name.

Like prayer. Like a desperate, heart-rending plea.

Then there’s a large, familiar hand wrapping around his upper arm, jerking him to a stop. “Jaskier, please! I’m so sorry!”

He stops walking and glances back over his shoulder. The lamplight is haloed behind Geralt’s white hair, making his manbun look more like a heavenly crown than anything else. His golden eyes flash into view and Jaskier has to hold back a gasp when their gazes meet.

Geralt looks like shit.

His eyes are dull and tired, rimmed with purple bags. His skin is paler than usual and his scars stand out in stark contrast; Jaskier finds his hand wandering to Geralt’s shoulder of its own accord. Settling there. Steadying the other, stronger man. “Oh, Geralt...”

“I’m-” the man before him sobs openly beneath the obnoxious LED light. Jaskier watches in shock as Geralt falls to his knees on the pavement and clutches at his hands with such raw determination that it’s nearly frightening. “Gods, I’m so sorry. I should never have said those things, much less in front of Yennefer. I owe you so many apologies. I haven’t been able to- I haven’t been sleeping and I know it’s my own damn fault because I- You’re so bright and beautiful and I can’t seem to stop myself from dousing the lights in my life and you were too precious to lose so...”

“So you pushed me away before I could leave.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Geralt deRiv.”

---

“What’s that whiskey called again?”

“Ardbegh.”

“Fuck off,” Jaskier laughs. He pours Geralt a glass and then pours a second for his brother, who’s visiting from across the Continent for summer vacation. “I still think it tastes awful.”

“I know. That’s why I buy you all that coffee flavored shit you love so much.”

“Don’t be mad at craft beer because it’s tasty!” Jaskier sticks his tongue out. He passes the boys their drinks before sinking gracefully into Geralt’s lap. “Tell me about school, Lambert! How are you liking your professors?”

Geralt’s hand squeezes his thigh gratefully beneath the table, never one for small talk himself, and Jaskier squeezes back.

It had taken a lot of time, a lot of couple’s therapy, and some very nice dates... but things had worked out. Geralt had proven himself to be an idiot, sure, but even more importantly: he’d proved himself capable of growth and positive change. Jaskier could live with that.

Growing and learning together was a much better option than growing old apart.

#alcohol tw #weed mention #geraskier #geraskier ficlet #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #fluff #geraskier post mountain #modern au #geraskier modern au #geraskier fluff #drinking tw #party scene #inspired by the lovely tove lo

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rotten-games · 4 years ago

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City of Immortals RO List

Okay so here it is, the list of ROs like I promised. Both mc's have their own pool of love interests to choose from with little overlap.

Here you’ll get a description of the ROs and some information on how the mc or others might view them. Also some info on the mc’s.

Mc1

Born to be a soldier by design, they were afflicted with immortality and stopped aging entirely once they hit thirty. A side effect—or perhaps a feature—is the beast that all but lives inside them, taking control when they feel incredibly strong emotions, though most often when anger is present. Where once they held full control of it, of the transformation they go through, now they must wrestle with its control with each passing day.

You are what’s called a Hunter. Every settlement has them, but Eden has the most. Caroline controls all her hunters from Eden, though ‘Hunter’ may be a bit of an oversimplification of the job description. Yes, one of their main jobs is providing food and other resources for the settlement, but they’re also bounty hunters, keepers of the peace, and are also often recruited for odd jobs when they have no contracts to fill. Perhaps the most important rule in Hunting, is that you always work in pairs.

Caroline: She/her

The best way to describe Carol is ‘short’, with a pair of unblinking amber eyes and a wind-buffeted, naturally tanned complexion. Her russet curls, while usually out of her face, never seem to stay tied back for long, a seemingly constant slew of curls sticking to her forehead. A jagged scar cuts across the knuckles on her right hand.

Caroline is unrelenting. She knows what her settlement needs and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get it—to save the lives of those she must oversee she is willing to do anything. Within reason. Truthfully, Caroline never asked to be made the leader of Eden, the job just sort of fell into her lap one day and no one bothered to take it from her. You’ve worked for her for years by the start of chapter one, and if you’ve learned anything about her it’s that she doesn’t do smalltalk. She’s been in a relationship with Lowrie for years now, and as far as you can tell, they’re very happy with one another.

Lowrie: non-binary, they/them pronouns

Impossibly tall and scrawny, Lowrie’s skin is constantly burned red by the sun, seemingly unable to tan no matter what they do. Their face is long, with ash-coloured, shoulder-length hair that would usually hide their grey eyes but is otherwise kept out of their face with a blue-patterned scarf.

Some have called Lowrie stuck up in the past for their less than talkative nature but that would be an oversimplification. In truth, they just aren’t fond of talking—which is probably why they get on with Harley so well—and more shy than anything else. One of Eden’s finest Hunters, they spend most of their time in the sweltering heat of Wasteland bringing bandits in and shooting any of the mangy beasts that stray too close to Eden. The rest of their time is spent managing the bar with Caroline and Harley, tending to keep to themself. You’ve worked with Lowrie in the past, and as far as you can tell there’s little love lost between the two of you.

Carol + Lowrie poly:

Caroline and Lowrie are poly and in a committed relationship with one another. They will not leave one another for monogamy with mc, however, you don’t have to be in a throuple with them—though that’s definitely on the table—you can simply be with one, who is with both you and the other. Lowrie is also currently casually seeing Harley. Carol is not seeing anyone else.

Mordred: he/him.

With a seemingly constant fuzz along his jaw, and a never-ending supply of little scars littering his warm olive skin, his hair tends to cover everything but his yellow eyes and the deep bags underneath. His hair is typically tied into a loose bun at the back of his head, mostly obscuring his pierced, slightly pointed ears.

Mordred is a hot-headed, easily irritated young man who’s been by your side since day one. You dragged yourselves out of the crumbling ruins of Ledala together, you fought together, and now you work together as Hunters. Partner’s in crime doesn’t quite cover your relationship but it’s certainly close. In recent years, however, your relationship has strained—perhaps it’s due to past mistakes getting in the way, or past feelings, but either way at the start of the book he’s nowhere to be found.

At the start of the game you can determine just what your relationship is with him—it’s strained at this point but the reasons why are totally up to you. He can also potentially have been an old flame of MC2.

Ridley: Gender variable

Ridley is an energetic person with a pair of bright green eyes constantly sparkling with a glint of adventure. Despite their heavily-muscled frame, they seem to constantly be hiding behind their oversized glasses, a veil of their shaggy red hair, and a slouch that makes them out to be much smaller than they are.

Ridley is… an enigma. While technically a Hunter, they seem much more interested in the pursuits of science and research than holding off rabid beasts with nothing but a gun that’s falling apart and a rusty sword. Of course, they can hold their own well enough, but when they’re meant to be spending their time training or helping out—and indeed, even on their time off—they’re usually found traipsing around in the desert looking for… who knows what.

Doc: She/her

Doc is stocky and sharp-jawed, dark brown, almost black eyes always watching. Her dense curls are shoulder-length and appear twisted together and held back behind her head. The tip of her left ear appears to have been torn off somehow.

Not known for her bedside manner, Doc travels between settlements to tend to the sick, injured, and broken, and though none can particularly vouch for her interpersonal skills (though who can say anyone has particularly good ones, these days?), they can certainly do so for her medicinal accomplishments. Some think her a wandering ghost, aiding those who need help to make up for the sins of her past, others simply see her as a woman seeking to do her part for the good of Wasteland, regardless, if you get on her bad side she’s been known to be liberal with her gun. Or so the rumors say.

J. Allard: Gender variable

Allard is a nervous-looking, shifty individual with short but messy brown hair flecked with grey. Constantly fidgeting with the ring on their thumb, their stutter becomes more obvious the more nervous they are. Though their eyes hide behind a pair of darkened glasses, a pallid face a week out from its last wash they are, completely, honest. Trust me.

J. Allard is a totally normal priest. There is nothing strange about them, they simply want what is best for you and your companions.

Mc2

Dragged down into the depths of the earth on the day Ledala fell, you never knew of the city beneath the surface. Your sibling died that day, you’re sure of it, and a part of you died with them—the beast no longer responds to your call and you’re still left injured from whatever afflicted you and your comrades that day. The man who saved you set you to work for him—sorry, with him—and now you walk perpetually in the darkness of a city long since forgotten by the sun, with people named after the remnants of an old world you never knew existed. You were never meant to survive that night, and every day the world around you reminds you of that.

Arthur: he/him

Arthur doesn’t look quite there half the time. His skin is translucent, his pale blue eyes impossibly far away, platinum blond hair little more than wispy strands atop his head. Most of his body is otherwise covered completely by that old, brown coat of his. There’s light freckling across his nose.

Arthur saved you that night. A Private Investigator by trade, he brought you on to work together because you had no where else to go. Maybe because of it you should be closer than you are but there’s always been a distance between you he’s been unwilling to cross. Either way, despite working together—living together—he keeps to himself and you try to keep to yourself in turn. Still, you can’t help but notice the disdain he has for the City Council and their lackeys.

Perci: she/her

Perci is constantly smiling. Relaxed of posture, her straight hair once ashy brown is now dyed silver. It’s cut short at the sides and back, creating an undercut, most of her fringe tucked behind her ears to reveal a pair of dark brown, monolid eyes. She seems allergic to sleeves, taking whatever chance she gets to show off her cybernetic arm and the colourful tattoos that adorn her flesh arm.

A friend of Arthur who sometimes helps with investigations. She’s friendlier than he is with you, even inviting you out on occasion, but rebellion is on her lips more and more nowadays, and she isn’t subtle about it. You haven’t seen her in quite a while—as far as you can tell she and Arthur aren’t on speaking terms anymore after that big fight they had a few months back. As far as you can tell, she’s moved on and you certainly wouldn’t blame her if she has Council dogs on her heels.

Saga: Saga is always the same gender as your mc is.

Saga’s hair is a deep blue in colour, their black roots just barely growing through. Half of their head is shaved, the other half left chest-length and braided over their shoulder. Though their entire body seems to interwoven with tech, what is perhaps most interesting about them is the angular tattoo that crawls down the right side of their face. This is probably why they come to you completely covered in muck and baggy clothing.

Saga shows up at your door with a different name and a job. You aren’t given why, only the how, only the what. They’re stubborn and flighty in equal measure, suspicious of everyone around them including yourself. Oh, they dress the part of a street rat well, but the cash they have just on hand is nothing to blink at and, underneath all that grime, their skin is perfectly unmarred by the ravages of time.

Deimos: he/him, gay

Whether or not Deimos’ strength is his own or from borrowed, military-grade tech is anyone’s guess, but no one’s ever bothered to ask. Though he’s tall, he isn’t necessarily as muscular as the fear he commands would suggest. His eyes glow orange, black hair trimmed but not maintained, and his grin is enough to stop anyone in their tracks. For whatever reason, he always wears warm clothes.

Deimos is a Council dog who’s been hounding Arthur for a few years now. You’ve never officially met him; somehow whenever he drops into the office you always manage to be out. Whether that’s coincidence or because Arthur sends you out on errands very conveniently at those times it’s not for you to say. Somehow, he never seems to do too much damage to your colleague.

Adrastea: Non-binary, they/them or she/her pronouns, only attracted to nb or female mc’s

Adrastea has been voted the city’s most attractive person many years in a row now. Everything about them is perfect; perfect smile, perfect blue eyes, perfect cascading coils of iridescent hair, yet somehow despite their well-calculated appearance it’s like there’s a tiger waiting to pounce on any wary admirer who comes too close.

While not a member of the council they hold great sway simply by virtue of their age and the fact they’re so beloved by the populace. You’ve seen them on the holos, how they’re oh, so giving to the needy and even invite the commonfolk to their lavish parties all the important council members attend. It’s an act, it has to be; through their gorgeous smile and all those sheer dresses they seek nothing if not attention. A lot of their history is shrouded and deleted from public record, but you do know that they were once a head scientist that took part in the very same project that supposedly made you what you are today.

Dagda: gender variable

Dagda is the perfectly attractive face everyone sees on their screens every night. In a world of cybernetic bodies and unnaturally bright lights, they are the one person who almost looks... natural. With a perfectly cultivated appearance of salt and pepper hair, soulful brown eyes, and that winning smile, nothing about them is their own; everything they do exactly what everyone else tells them to do.

The mouthpiece of the Council, Dagda is seen to be charming and down to earth in the vids. They say Ledala is prospering more than it has in decades, that the crime rates are lowering thanks to the wonderful work they and their colleagues on the Council are doing. Of course, there always has been a certain emptiness behind their eyes. When the camera isn’t rolling, you wonder what they really think.

#lore #coi game

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nightwingshero · 5 years ago

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OTP Questions Meme

I was tagged by the amazing @returnofthepd3 thank you, boo!!!

Tagging: @chazz-anova @xbaebsae @joeyhxdson @simonxriley @fadedjacket @dieguzguz @ja-crispea @red-nightskies @faithchel @whatsinsideofmybrain @strafethesesinners @minilev @goodboiboomer-fc5 @wafflii @trialandseed @mackie-hattwie and whoever else wants to join the fun!

John Seed & Wren Blake

DISAGREEMENTS

Who is more likely to raise their voice? It depends on the argument. Wren and John can both be emotional.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? John and Wren got into a fight while she was still the deputy, and she walked out. But that’s it.

Who trashes the house? John got worked up before Wren left, and shoved papers and stuff off a table, but neither of them really get like that.

Do either of them get physical? They fight before getting together, but after things start with them, they don’t hurt each other.

How often do they argue/disagree? Sometimes, but it doesn’t happen a whole lot. They might disagree here and there, but they’re usually on the same page.

Who is the first to apologize? That depends on who started it. Wren and John are both super stubborn, both struggle with admitting they’re wrong sometimes. But once Wren’s anger fizzles out, she’ll give John a kiss on the side of his head and hold him close while she apologizes. John’s apology comes with him hugging Wren from behind or in the form of cheesecake.

SEX

Who is on top? John tops more often, but Wren takes charge too.

Who is on the bottom? See above!

Who has the strangest desires? They have some kinks, but nothing super strange..

Any kinks? Wren is a tease and has a praise kink. John will edge Wren, and they both will do some light bondage here and there.

Who’s dominant in bed? Definitely John.

Is head ever in the equation? Sometimes.

If so, who is better at performing it? It’s a fair share of both.

Ever had sex in public? They’ve had sex outside and in a couple of public places, but they don’t make it a regular thing.

Who moans the most? Wren

Who leaves the most marks? John. He bites and leaves hickeys, must to Wren’s embarrassment the next day.

Who is the more experienced of the two? John.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? It’s a toss up, depending on the mood or the heat of the moment. They used to be enemies with benefits though, working out their frustrations towards each other in the bedroom and other places.

Rough or soft? A mixture between them, depending on what the mood is.

How long do they usually last? That all depends on the stamina for the day, but they usually last a while. Especially John.

Is protection used? No, Wren stopped taking birth control after the arrest. Kinda hard to find time to go to the lady doctor when you’re fighting a cult.

Does it ever get boring? Oh, absolutely not.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? That’s a three way tie between: the riverbank after Wren’s baptism, the church before a service, and John’s confession room.

FAMILY

Do they plan on having children/or have children? Yes.

If so, how many children do they want/have? They have two. Wren finds out she’s pregnant after their wedding, and she eventually gives birth to their daughter, Harper. Then they eventually have a little boy, Braxton.

AFFECTION

Who likes to cuddle? They both do

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? They both can, but John is worse.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? John mostly, but Wren can get handsy too.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? That depends on the position. Most of the time Wren will lay on him on the couch, or her head on his chest in bed. They don’t always get uncomfortable, but Wren will get too hot sometimes and move away.

Who gives the most kisses? Wren, she’s super affectionate and loves to surprise John with kisses.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity? They both like to read with the fire going, or they’ll watch movies/tv shows together. Wren plays piano on some days.

Where is their favourite place to cuddle? In bed or on the couch. Wren will sometimes sit curled up on John’s lap in his office.

How often do they get time to themselves? Not very often in the beginning, but Wren spends more and more time with John as things grow between them. Once Wren joins, they spend a lot more time together.

SLEEPING

Who snores? Wren makes light noises in her sleep.

If both do, who snores the loudest? N/a

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? They share.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? They cozy up, but will sometimes drift apart throughout the night. They cuddle a bit in the morning though.

What do they wear to bed? Wren wears silk nightgowns or a shirt of John’s. John wears sweatpants or pajama pants. Sometimes they’ll sleep naked, or Wren will just have underwear on.

Are either of them insomniacs? They both can have issues falling asleep.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Nope. They’re in a medicine cabinet in the bathroom.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? They’re both known to wrap around the other. Sometimes they’ll lay side by side, but not often.

Who wakes up with bed hair? They both do, but Wren’s is worse and John loves to point it out.

Who wakes up first? John. Wren hates mornings.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? John, because Wren can’t cook to save her life and she isn’t a morning person.

What is their favourite sleeping position? Both on their sides, curled up with each other. Either with Wren’s back against John’s chest, or her curled up with her face against his collar bone.

Do they set an alarm each night? John is most likely to do that.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? Yeah, they have one. Wren uses it more than John, though.

Who has nightmares? Both. John has nightmares about his childhood. Wren has nightmares about her childhood, the car accident, and the visions of the child she lost in the bliss along with the leap of faith.

Who has ridiculous dreams? Definitely Wren.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Neither. Wren curls up with John, so they don’t really sprawl.

Who makes the bed? Wren does.

What time is bed time? Between 11 and 11:30. Wren likes to stay up just a bit later.

Any routines/rituals before bed? Brush their teeth, wash their faces, sometimes Wren will do a face mask routine and rub lotion on her skin before bed.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Wren. She’s known to get headaches in the morning because she is dehydrated, and she isn’t much of a morning person.

WORK

Who is the busiest? Both of them. John and Wren are busy with their duties as Heralds.

Who rakes in the highest income? I guess John, because of his wealth and stuff. Being a lawyer pays off. Pun intended.

Are any of them unemployed? No

Who takes the most sick days? I would say it’s a toss up. Both are extremely stubborn, but they usually convince the other to take the day off.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Neither of them. They both take it seriously.

Who sucks up to their boss? I don’t really think either of them do. John probably did with Joseph in the beginning, but not really after Wren joins.

What are their jobs? John is the Baptist of Eden’s Gate and Wren is the Judge. He baptizes people and hears their confession, then Wren judges on whether they’re worthy of atonement.

Who stresses the most? Wren. She carries stress very easily and John has to kinda pull her back down to earth.

Are they financially stable? They are.

HOME

Who does the washing? Both of them, but Wren does it more often. She would rather do that than the dishes.

Who takes out the trash? John does mostly.

Who does the ironing? Wren does for the most part. They both wear button ups and it gives her time to think.

Who does the cooking? Definitely John. Wren can’t cook to save her life and John is very good at it.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Wren! She did start a kitchen fire once. She’s now forever banned from cooking.

Who is messier? Wren can be a bit messy, but not bad. John is just a super neat person.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Neither of them.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Neither. It drives Wren crazy to see clothes on the floor, especially when it’s next to the hamper. And John is a neat person by nature.

Who forgets to flush the toilet? Neither of them.

Who is the prankster around the house? Wren.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Wren. John has a bowl on the living room table to put keys, but Wren doesn’t use it. She misplaces them and John loves to say “such a shame we don’t have something to hold our keys, darling.”

Who mows the lawn? John and Wren have cultists do that.

Who answers the telephone? Both.

Who does the vacuuming? Wren. She sings and dances a bit while doing it.

Who does the groceries? They either get delivered or Jane will go with Wren.

Who takes the longest to shower? That’s a tie. They both take forever...and sometimes together.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom? It’s equal, until Wren has to do her hair and makeup.

MISCELLANEOUS

Is money a problem? No, they’re well off.

How many cars do they own? John has an old black mustang, an SUV, and his plane. Wren has a jeep and eventually gets a Lexus.

Do they own their home or do they rent? Wren rents a cabin before moving in with John. John owns his ranch.

Do they live in the city or in the country? Country

Do they enjoy their surroundings? They both loved the city and have also talked about the idea of living on the ocean, but they both love their home.

What’s their song? I’ll Follow You by Shinedown

What do they do when they’re away from each other? Either their duties for Eden’s Gate or doing their own hobbies. Wren will play piano, binge watch tv shows, or read. John will read, draw, or work on Affirmation.

Where did they first meet? The failed arrest, but they didn’t officially come face to face until John the Cleansing.

Who spends the most money when out shopping? That’s a toss up. Wren will shop here and there, but John loves to buy things. He’s more likely to spend more, too.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? John. Wren has assets, but she’s way more subtle.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? They both think it’s funny, at the other’s distaste. And it’s usually Wren that’s tripping.

Any mental issues? John still carries the issues from his childhood. Wren does too. Wren suffers from depression and anxiety.

Who’s terrified of bugs? Wren hates spiders, centipedes, and any kind of roach.

Who kills the spiders around the house? John kills them, and Wren tries to throw things at them because she’s too scared of them.

Their favourite place? Under they YES sign or the riverbank behind the Ranch.

Who pays the bills? John, but Wren keeps it all organized.

Do they have any fears for their future? They’re both concerned when things get more heated between them during the fighting. That goes away once they’re together and Wren joins, but Wren becomes a bit afraid when she finds out she’s pregnant.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? That’s totally John. He goes above and beyond.

Who’s the tallest? John is. Wren is only 5′4″

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Both of them.

Who wanders around in their underwear? Wren does. Sometimes on purpose to tease John, but mostly it’s when she’s getting ready.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Wren. That girl will sing her heart out.

What do they tease each other about? Wren pokes fun of him being a big time lawyer and for being so fancy, and sometimes points out that Georgia drawl she loves so much (which he reminds her of her Oklahoma one to match). John teases Wren for trying to kill him with a butter knife while she was a bit drunk.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Neither of them. They both like each other’s style.

Who crushed first? Both, but John was more open and teasing about it because Wren was trying to deny it.

Any alcohol or substance related problems? John and Wren both used to have issues, but they both have gotten a lot better. John helped Wren after she switched sides, because she got really bad while fighting for the resistance.

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Wren, but not anymore. She used to drink with her friends in the resistance, and she’ll do it on occasion. But John helped teach her discipline with it so she doesn’t go back down that road.

Who swears the most? Both are pretty bad at it, but Wren does it more.

#deputy wren blake #john seed #otp meme #Far Cry 5

36 notes · View notes

kinkykawaiian · 5 years ago

Photo

She is based off of Biblical Lilith. She was inspired by other interpretations of Lilith//

Working on a detailed reference sheet.

Name: Lilith

Alias: Death Dealer, ,Mistress of Betrayal, The Red Queen

Occupation: Weapon's dealer, Black Hat’s Emissary, Leader of the Red Macabre Corporation, Also ringleader of an underground circus for villains where she torments her victims((those who betrayed her or some man that committed a crime against a woman))

Age: VERY VERY VERY OLD

Race: Succubus

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual but leans towards men more

Biography:

As far as the legend goes; she fled the garden of Eden when she refused to submit to Adam. God had sent three angels to retrieve her but they never found her. She was lost, naked and alone; searching for a place to call home and where she could be her own woman. That is when the devil manifested before her and offered her a place in the depths of hell. Promising her that she will be free to do as she pleases with no man ruling over her. And that is where she made her home and ruled over a legion. Years turned to centuries, centuries turned to millennias and millenias turned to eons that she wasted in that inferno.She evolved into the monster she is today and earned the title The deceiver of men, bows to no one and queen of the night.(The year 1860, Washington) She was summoned on earth by a mortal looking to get his rocks off with the infamous succubus and it backfired on him when she drained his life energy for sustenance; leaving nothing but a hollowed out corpse. Now, free to roam Earth, she disguised herself as a normal woman; killing several men in her wake. She was nomadic; never staying in one place and always traveling state to state; town to town and eventually she happened upon a small town in Mexico. She saw a discrete ad around the town for a masquerade for the insidious. She attended the ball expecting to find her new victim. She wore a crimson red and black Victorian dress; it's silk straps draping off her shoulder; along with black gloves and a crow mask, her hair tied back in a bun adorned with roses and black feathers. During the festivities; she met the infamous Black Hat. His face was concealed by a mask. He approached her and asked for a dance while complementing the color of her attire. The first thing she noticed was his top hat and assumed he had a high place in society; and since she has an affinity for men in power (because she wants to dominate that power) she accepted his offer. Hours passed as they spent the night dancing away; eventually the events came to an end. As they were leaving the building; Black Hat whistled to summon his steed and to Lilith's surprise it was an undead horse with it's head engulfed in teal flames. He took her by the hand and they road together through the woods in the dead of night.Upon arriving at a lake where they dismounted; he asked her who the girl behind the mask was. She removed her mask to reveal her face; her eyes shifting to their demonic form as she told him who she was and she asked the same from him and he revealed who he was(At this time he was El Charro Negro)). The two schmoozed for several hours; talking about their conquers, victims and who they walked over to get to where they are. She was also admitted that she was going to make a meal out of him; assuming that he was a mortal when they first met. He laughed in response and told her that he was about to do the same until he saw her eyes change. He was curious if she had any place to go. She told how she usually targets men and spends the night at their place before moving on to their next victim. He offered to bring her home and have her work for him in return, being impressed by the temptress of deception. She was smitten by the Eldritch demon and she took his offer. Once at his estate; she was given her own room and a set of rules to follow; to which she had a difficult time following because she'd be damned if she let a man rule over her. This caused them to butt heads but she still served him well with sacrifices and assassinating her targets effectively. Although she came close to almost dying once while trying to seduce and kill a monster hunter who was on Black Hat's trail. He had holy weapons that subdued her which he tortured her and sawed her wings off; her ear got torn and her horn chipped; he was about to slice her throat with a blessed blade but was interrupted by the leering shadow of a monstrous Black Hat who engulfed the room in darkness. Lilith had loss consciousness from the blood loss at this point and she came to back in her bed with her boss tending to her wounds. He looked annoyed and chewed her out for failing to do the job; of course this lead to an argument between the two but she receded back to laying on her side in pain; allowing Black Hat to continue bandaging her wounds. He gently stroked her hair before exiting the room calling her a"Beautiful imbecile" and told her "Not to let it happen again because the next time I just might let you die" Black Hat enjoyed her wild and wicked nature; trying to contain it would be foolish but he thrived on the conflict that came from him attempting. When he presented her a contract to finalize her employment; she question it's context. Black Hat was annoyed by this and promised her she would get anything she wished from the organization if she signed the doted line. Once she signed; he gave her anything she had asked for. She asked to start her own circus; so he gave her an underground circus to run where she would torture her victims for the insidious masses to see; along with two tigers trained to maim and eat those victims. She saved the money she earned(While also giving Black Hat his cut) she eventually branched off to start her own organized crime empire called The Red Macabre Corporation in the year of 1920. Black Hat was happy to see her flourish into a villain of her own but at the same time seething in anger because he secretly enjoyed her company(And her cooking; she would cook fresh stillborn babies for him). This made him grow even more bitter and even more strict with his future employees. Nonetheless, she went off; leaving the estate to run her own business. Now in present day; She still does business with Black Hat and they still have some kind of strong tension going on between them and it is unknown if it's hatred or sexual. But when no one else is looking; they will waltz privately in his office; reminiscing about the night they met all those years ago. They have a very antagonizing romance that comes off as contempt at first glance; so you'd have to read between the lines.

LIKES:

-Drinking in general

-The suffering of men who thought they were superior to women

-Musicals

-Old detective shows

-Singing and dancing

-She likes spicy things(perfume,foods,gum,sex)

-Guns; her favorite being her golden Berretta 92; a semi automatic pistol

-Tigers

-being the center of attention

-wine

-cherries

-cheese cake

-electro swing, jazz,heavy metal and waltz

-Dementia's illusive nature in small doses

-the rare sweet moments between her and Black Hat that happen in private

-roses

-living in the lap of luxury

-the color red

-Carnage

-Bathing in virgin blood

-the taste of human flesh

-When Black Hat sings "Vaillainous thing" to her ((

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwCdShFGjwI

))

-Belly dancing(mostly to Heavy metal),waltzing or tango.

DISLIKES:

-Other people's children

-Being referred to as the Night hag

-Being asked what her age is

-Being called a sinner

-Being annoyed

-anything cold

-Glitter

-Being disrespected

-Most men

-Outdated views

-pranks

-when Black Hat melts puppies

-Being told what to wear

FUN FACTS:

-Lilith can speak several different languages; including English,Spanish and pig Latin.

-She has been summoned to the surface world before in the past a few times; Once by Mary 1 of England(in the year 1552) and helped her rein the Kingdom with an iron fist. She also taught her to bathe in virgin blood to maintain her youth. But as all deals go; she collected her dept when "Bloody Mary" met her demise. She has her soul now trapped behind mirrors; only to be summoned to scare stupid children when they repeat her name three times in a dark bathroom.

-Lilith is an excellent cook(She mostly cooks human flesh with herbs and spices)

-Lilith covers her chipped horn with a band at all times

-Black Hat has indulged in her sinful nature a few times and it usually leaves them both bitten up,bruised and bleeding. And it is their dirty little secret to keep.

-Lilith pursued Black Hat out of her own free will

-If Black Hat were to ever disappear Lilith would take his spot and rule ruthlessly and mercilessly and do away with the mortals he hired and summon a legion to take their place.

-Lilith views Black Hat as an equal; despite him viewing her beneath him. However, he does view her as the closest thing to his equal.

-Lilith left his residence before he started to brand his employees and never allowed herself to be marked by him if it wasn't by his teeth or claws.

-Black Hat and Lilith have private meetings every so often where he complains about his employees or talks about his new devices he wants to sell or they drink and reminisce about their past

-Lilith will never say it out loud but she loves Black Hat; despite all their escapades together.

-When she was living with Black Hat he would request for her to sing him to sleep when he was restless (( She would usually sing "Belong to me"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkBEnIoRqWw

))

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

Personality: She is charismatic, bold and is never afraid to refrain from sharing her thoughts. She is the embodiment of the sin lust so she is very lewd in nature. She is cruel to those outside of her inner circle and could care less about them. She is careful with who she deals with given her past experience with shady characters. She also comes across as bit of a narcissist and hogs the spotlight. She is manipulative and deceiving; leading her victims to fall into her trap. She is ruthless when dealing with victims. She also makes a lot of suggestive jokes.

Fighting Style: she is very flexible, quick and agile so she will use that to her advantage. She fights like an animal,using her horns to ram into her enemy, her clawed nails, fanged teeth and tail. Also may use her hooves to step on her enemies. Or she'll just simply unload led into you.

Powers: intense charisma and seductive power to match her good looks she uses to her advantage to manipulate unsuspecting victims,can disguise herself to look human, Manipulates dreams, Can see in the dark, Pyrotechnic, is able to make items manifest themselves in a snap of a finger, she can also walk up right walls and ceilings. She can teleport in a close proximity(She cannot teleport through dimensions however), sucking her victim's life dry to leave behind a hollowed corpse, Immortality. She also can use a spell to charm her victims(Only works with mortals) to get what she wants. Despite having these supernatural powers she is not as strong as Black Hat. She doesn't even come close to what he is capable of.

Quote: "Don't mistaken my respect for fear or you will loose it”-Lilith to BH

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

Voice Claim: Cat Pierce ((

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fv8QI0C4oCw

))

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

Theme songs:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3AAOx_6jfek

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RViFRTgC2y4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9irdrSZ9Ys

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afZR_1BY0CA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7TFUUS_Yqew

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G9sENKMK8Tk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pjOtKC_GZ9o

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZdFaadxJl4g

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4cKIxhcTT8

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5yP9olT_TdM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QL60uWjiXrw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3FLpc-5yvM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-eJbxI-jZbA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BkdXdVxTdNA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vCXsRoyFRQE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NeaC0gPRJpM

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

Her and Black Hat's playlist:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bql8WO0GvqI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkBEnIoRqWw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwCdShFGjwI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BGti3Bzlxhw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGbe-lEDCc4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bR5u9jb0PJE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D4MZTU1-_bw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3ObHjm1fAE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CZ79Rpv3kNk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHOE50gGP30

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teuGzBoN8hE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8xTZIOAPhs

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpOSxM0rNPM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AeFLR9hKQ6Y

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISgaQcScFQE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Fp4yRDEVyM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s5rtxcogEsU

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36714VSOchI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QMx6FA8gmgU

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRw-8tDiPQc

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ccY25Cb3im0

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WD-7zn3WCq8

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x83P5LjpWpA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y6feSJsCxIw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ts--MxmAFkQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ia--jqrELbE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WsZ2fUXbZg

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzjUs5yR68o

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ow1QqW0jzTo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-s4uLaaMBc

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

Roleplay Examples:

Lilith walked into the ballroom and was instantly awestruck. The room was nearly one thousand feet long by five hundred feet wide, with the ceiling stretching up another hundred feet above her head. It made her feel smaller than an ant. The walls were a shimmering white and gold. Dozens of glittering crystal chandeliers spiraled down from the ceiling. Candles lit on each pillar; which illuminated the ballroom’s occupants. A group of five women in front of her all had flowing, elegant ball gowns that were frilly but pale. She could hear their low chatter as they talked among themselves and laughed, seemingly completely at ease in this festive atmosphere. Lilith's crimson and black gown made her stick out like a swore thumb. She wondered through the masked crowed aimlessly as she discreetly scouted for her next victim.

Lilith grinned widely as the stranger in black accepted her offer. She rested her free hand on his shoulder before they began to glide through the ballroom floor together; the sounds of violins filled the air. They stood out in their dark attire as they waltzed through a sea of pale pastel gowns and suits. The demoness in disguise had hunger written in her eyes. One could easily mistaken that look for lust but she was actually fantasizing how she would devour this man when given the opportunity"You are an excellent dancer"She complemented her partner.

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

This interpretation of Lilith and art belong to me

Villainous belongs to Alan Ituriel

#villainous oc #villainous bh #villainous black hat #villainous #my art #art #Myart #Oc #villainous rp

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multiharlot · 5 years ago

Text

angel || reid/emily x angel!reader (4)

summary: a certain pair of people deserve an explanation. so that’s exactly what you give them

warnings: mentions of hell and demons, mentions of soul transference.

series masterlist

masterlist

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

y/n’s pov

i took a deep breath before i walked into a bullpen, a moment of dejavu hitting me.

“y/n...you’re back.” emily smiles.

“i told you i would be. and...i can’t lie.” i chuckle as i awkwardly shrug my shoulder.

“where umm...where’d you go?” spencer asks, standing from his chair and taking a seat on his desk.

“where do you think, genius? she just found out you’re both her soulmate. she clearly went to god.” morgan snorts, leaning back into his chair.

“no...actually. i umm...i went to see my brother. gabriel.” i nod my head.

“your brother is gabriel? like the an- oh right.” garcia nods her head, having a total blonde moment, and i giggle.

“i missed you.” i smile, rocking back and forth on my feet.

“i missed you more.” she sighs, walking over to me and wrapping her arms around my shoulder.

i pull my wing out, wrapping it around her body.

“oh...oh it’s so warm.” she gushes, snuggling further into me.

i smile, holding my hands in front of my body.

“aren’t you worried about people seeing those?” hotch asks, and i shake my head.

“only you guys can see them. the only way people can see a guardian angel’s wings is if it’s their own guardian angel. so to everyone else, it just looks like garcia is giving me a hug.” i shrug.

“that’s...really cool.” spencer smiles at me, and i nod my head, shifting my gaze to the ground.

“yeah it is.” i mumble, and an awkward silence fills the team.

“i think we should give these three some space.” rossi suggests slowly, and i smile at him, nodding my head.

he gives me a tight smile and i reach my hands out to emily’s and spencer’s.

“come on, i need you guys to come with me” i say, giving them both a soft smile.

“should i be scared?” emily smirks jokingly at me.

i chuckle, shaking my head at her.

“never with me around.”

they both grab hold on my hands, and i intertwine our fingers, leading them out of the bullpen.

“where are we going?” spencer asks as i stop in front of the large window.

“just...close your eyes.” i say, gripping their hands tightly.

they look at each other, then to me, before sighing and closing their eyes. i wrap my wings tightly around their bodies, huddling all of us together as i whisper the spell beneath my breath.

“is that latin?”

“spencer shut up.”

a small giggle escapes my lips and i feel a cool breeze against my wings. i let go of their hands and unwrap them from my hold.

“you can open your eyes now.”

they both timidly open one eye at a time, gasps leaving their mouth as they did.

“oh my god are we in heaven?” spencer asks as he looks around the garden with wide eyes.

“close, but no.” i chuckle, shaking my head.

“did you...change your clothes?” emily asks as she looks down at my white dress.

“no. this is my normal angel attire. i usually wear something different when i come see you guys. i don’t need everyone thinking i’m getting married or going to prom every time i come here.” i giggle.

“so...we’re still on earth?” emily questions as she reaches out to touch one of the pink flowers.

“eh. sort of. garden of eden.”

spencer gasps and his eyes widen.

“but i thought-”

“it’s still here. god wanted to keep all humans out after the mishap of adam and eve. but there’s something here that we need. and i also umm...i owe you guys an explanation and i thought it was fitting to do it here.”

“in the...garden of eden?” he questions, raising an eyebrow at me.

“just...trust me?” i ask, holding my hands out to the two of them.

“always.” emily smiles, grabbing my hand.

spencer places his hand in mine as i lead them through the garden. we stop in front of the crystal clear river. i kneel down in front of the river, and emily and spencer stay standing. i tug on their arms, motioning for them to sit with me.

“this...is raguel’s river. raguel is essentially the archangel of love. he helps instill peace and harmony within a relationship by providing people with maturity, understanding, and balance.” i explain, reaching forward and letting the running water flow through my hands.

“is that why we’re here? so he can help us understand what’s going on?” spencer asks as he unconsciously scoots closer to me.

“we’re here, so that you guys can understand. this is...a very complicated and messy situation. and by drinking the water, it’ll provide you with some clarity that you may not have otherwise.” i explain gently.

they both look at me and i nod my head.

“just cup it in your hands and drink.” i smile encouragingly.

they reach forward, cupping the water and sipping from their hands.

“i think that’s the best water i’ve ever had.” emily smiles, making me nod.

spencer wipes his hand down in his pants and readjusts his position. going from kneeling to sitting criss cross and emily does the same. i sighed, now for the hard part.

“so...the reason why you both see gold is because you’re both my soulmate. i was half human and half angel. my father, the archangel zadkiel, fell in love with a mortal woman in heaven. and from that union, came me. so, when i was born. both halves of me were assigned a soulmate. the human half, and the angel half.” i explain slowly as i place my hands atop theirs.

“and when my human half died, a piece of my soul went to hell and heaven gained another angel.”

“wait...why would a piece of your soul go to hell?” spencer questions, and a sigh fell past my lips.

“because that’s where maeve’s soul was.”

he pauses, staring at me with wide eyes.

“why would her soul be-”

“i can’t answer that. that choice was for god and god alone. all i know, is that in order to bring her back, i had to trade my human soul for hers. meaning, that one of your guys’ soulmate, is stuck in hell because of a choice that i made. and...after i determine who my angel soulmate is...one of you will be left alone.”

their eyebrows furrow and emily shakes her head.

“but...that’s not fair.”

“i know. but i warned you that there was a price to pay. and there’s nothing lucifer loves more than the taste of misery. i paid my price. half of my soul is missing and stuck in hell for the rest of eternity. but...lucifer is still angry. because i still get to be alive and feel love and be happy. so he’s waiting to collect the sorrow he feels is owed.”

“and who’s sorrow is that?” spencer asks, his eyes brimming with tears.

i could feel his guilt climbing through my throat, so i reach over, grabbing his hands.

“it’s not your fault. i need you to know that. none of this is your fault. i made this choice and i thought the deed was done, but lucifer wants more. and if i have any power at all, nobody will have to pay him the sorrow he feels he’s owed. i will fix this, i promise you. but for now, i need you both to know that this journey is going to be difficult. it’s going to be difficult and you need to be prepared for the loss you might-”

“no. no i’m not losing you again.” emily says firmly as she shakes her head.

“hey hey...you-” i stop myself before i could say the things i wanted to say to her.

i couldn’t lie.

“i don’t know how this is going to play out. but what i do know is neither of you will suffer any sort of unnecessary pain. i can assure you of that.”

“so how do we know? how do we know which is which?” emily asks, a hopeful glint in her eyes.

i stare back at her, my mouth gaping slightly.

“i...i don’t know.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“so let me get this straight. they’re both your soulmate?” derek asks, pointing between emily and reid.

“sort of. one is my human soulmate, the other is my angel soulmate.”

“so what’s the difference? how can you know?” garcia asks, leaning into the conversation.

“i don’t know. i mean i think i know, but i’m not sure-”

i feel a shiver run through my wings and i shake my head.

“sorry. sorry i...i have to go. my brother is calling. but...i’ll be back.” i say.

the team nods their head and i run out the doors, heading back up to see my brother. i walk through the doors to see gabriel and god standing over a table full of books.

“you called?”

“we’ve found a way out of this mess. we don’t like it, and we don’t think you will either. but it’s a way out.”

taglist:

@dreatine @slytherinintj13 @mileven-reddie @eleventhdoctorsangel @haileymorelikestupid

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss imagine #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #x reader #prentiss x reader #reid x reader

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edenkept · 5 years ago

Photo

❛ NOW I KNOW IT’S NOT YOU , but me that i'll love a little more .

wish i could use emojis to express how i feel , but jus know that for the entire day that ONE PART in roman holiday has been playing in my head on repeat & i ? couldn’t turn it off . anyway , my intros r usually super long SO i tried to keep it - how u say - condensed this time . but i’m so excited & i am so hyped to write w all of u ! @opalsmedia

LINKS : google doc / pinterest / spotify / tik tok compilation

𝑭𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑺

full name : baek ye - seul

nickname(s) / alias(es) : eden park ( english name )

age / dob : twenty one / march 3 ‘99

hometown : seoul , south korea

current location : guildford , england

ethnicity : korean

nationality : english - south korean

gender : cis female

pronouns : she / her

orientation : pansexual , grayromantic

religion : agnostic , raised catholic

face claim : jung chaeyeon

language(s) spoken : korean , mandarin , cantonese , english , some french

speech : english is her first language - seven years spent in london before being whisked away to another world , she’s still got a hold on a formal accent - though , doesn’t sound completely english or american , some ambiguous mixture of someone who’s practiced the language with someone who isn’t a complete expert . all being said , she’s enchanting enough to fool even the wisest into listening - schemes flinging from parted lips that garner attention , though often what follows is informal & laced with sour intentions .

hair : naturally dark , so dark its comparable to a moonless sky , though , in the summer & constant sunlight it’s known to lighten ( just - barely ) . kept just past her shoulder blades , her hair is naturally straight ( barely wavy ) & not often styled . healthy & thick , requires little uptake at current length , so it’s common to see it all down - at most , will be swept up into a messy up - do to be kept out of her face when doing something important . entirely effortless , her hair is often the least of her worries .

eyes : quite the defining feature , her eyes are sharp & cat like . the same color of the earth after an unforgiving rain storm , it’s easy to see past a confident exo - skeleton to see the unresolved pain in her eyes . holders of wisdom & excitement , there’s a lot of sadness that reside in her hues - a lone survivor in an unheard war , she doesn’t let enough people close enough to ever let them see it . instead , it’s more often found to catch her sending a glimpse from over the edge of a book - sly & clever .

height : five feet , five inches

build : athletic , with toned limbs & a toned torso .

tattoos : none .

piercings : only earlobes .

scars : easily hidden , a small two centimetre scar on the inside of her right wrist , just below the fleshy part of her palm . when asked , the consistent story is an accident when moving in with her adopted parents - a child throwing a tantrum & getting themselves hurt . nobody knows the real story , she doesn’t seem keen on sharing .

clothing style : academia aesthetic , she surrounds herself with like minded women who’ve the same ideals & personalities . distinguishable by their clothing , carefully smoothed high waisted a - line skirts , high turtlenecks & long coats over black tights . looks sophisticated enough to have a butler ( which , she does ) but intellectual enough to debate her professor ( which , she often does ) .

usual expression : like she knows too much , as if she’s seen too much & she’ll use it to her advantage . with the constant curve of her lips & the glint that’s always present in her eyes , she always looks as if she’s about to cause as much trouble . devil’s advocate , it wouldn’t be too far off for her to be minutes away from stirring the pot .

distinguishing characteristics : her fleeting laugh - it catches your ear as she passes you in the corridor , always red nails ; deep in color , it matches the shade of blood , a walk that demands attention - it exudes an aura of importance , cat like eyes that always look like they’ve caught you doing something you aren’t supposed to be doing .

𝑹𝑼𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺

exterior : ethereal , she holds herself to an impossibly high standard that everyone can see . is it intentional ? the looks sent over her shoulders , how she parts the halls to reach a friend - no . a normal girl from a normal world , she’s sat in the front of the lecture hall making eye contact with the instructors ; the kind of classmate who learns everyone’s ( everyone’s ) name & collects numbers in a well worn notebook to send out guides & make friends . even if you don’t know eden , you know of eden - the life of the party who always arrives with glowing skin & a passionate argument to have in the kitchen . elite , the rumors of a heaven fallen girl wrap around her with the moonlight ( her journal left in the library , she’s god chosen ) - passionate , with the fires of both heaven & hell wrapped in her . almost normal ( not quite ) , the kind of girl to greet everyone by name while running through almost empty corridors - she tugs a lifetime of sorrow behind her , hides it behind ambition & blind loyalty .

interior : war torn , a victim of poison dipped claws & a dip into the river styx . her mind doesn’t match her body , stuck in between the pages of a grand journey where she views the world as a story . a punishment for early childhood , penance has been found in intricate metaphors that don’t match the sharp callousness that falls from her lips . lost in a universe where she’s half god , half devil & her enemies are heaven - bound , she pushes it all down to pass as normal . a normal girl , with normal goals & normal roles . poetry in her dreams , written down on hidden yellow pages that aren’t meant to be seen by the ordinary . found hidden away in locked boxes are journeys & important figures that only her mind understands ; a gaping scar in her life that she’ll never rid herself of .

𝑪𝑯𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑪𝑳𝑬

this is NOT gna be pretty i spent too many brain cells on my app .

TRIGGER WARNINGS : abuse

there’s an email from doctor seong ; it reads of baek ye seul & important things to note before a first session with her . irreversibly traumatized from early childhood captivity & abuse , she’s learned to cope by transforming her life into an intricately weaved story . each significant figure in her life has a title , an assigned metaphor & character - though , outwardly , she’ll show no signs of trauma . in fact , the opposite - she shows tremendous progress in her personal life , easygoing with peers , approachable & passionate - keep an eye on her movements , if anything internal ever goes external , it’s a dangerous sign .

a file left open on an agent prothero’s office - MI6 stamped & redacted but he knows the story by heart . poor eden , left in the hands of a capable agent that chose a target over her own country . the product of a traitor & a criminal , whereabouts were unknown for the first six years of her life ; but through extensive therapy & decoding childish messages , he’s learned enough to swear to always keep an eye on her . held captive on a london penthouse , had her life threatened & well being always held just out of reach while her mother & father stayed hidden . not much else is known , no specifics , just one instance - she drowned , almost , she says . held under , he can still remember her asking what the most peaceful way to die is . he sends her to partners in south korea , people who want a daughter & promise to raise her the best they can .

pour over comments left on old social media pages , she’s a hit in her new life . sheds her english name as quickly as she received it & thrives overseas while growing into a formidable woman . she’s intelligent ( reminds someone of a mother who had it all once ) , sharp & witty . filled with enough passion to light a palace ablaze , she strives for greatness & settles for absolutely nothing . always equipped with a plan & a way , she gets everything she wants ( & she always earns it , there isn’t a single unearned trophy on her shelf ) . either loved or despised , she shines as bright as stars that are millions of light years away from earth .

in her planner , an acceptance letter carefully pressed & laminated . someone told her she’d never get in , but she sits on campus & smiles - she’s capable of doing anything she wants . next to the letter is an unblemished business card . agent prothero , who found her , gave her the means to burn everything down - he hands her a promise & information that always swims around her head . her parents aren’t dead , kept hidden by everyone in her life , they’re still kicking & on the run . a goal formulated as he reminds her to finish her schooling - there’s the same glint in his eye that she often sees in the mirror - a promise made to finish & return . some people deserve a downfall , her mother’s will be her .

𝑪𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑫

throuple / trio : hee hee , as explained in my app , jus three prodigies who get along so well that they’re jus the best of friends . kindred spirits , always found together , wearing complimenting colors while they try not to laugh to hard in the library over something rly stupid . they hold hands while walking through hidden corridors & keep their heads down to the wind , but it’s always the three of them .

unrequited rivalry : i.e. an opal who sees her as a “rival” ( or jus pushes her ) & eden’s like haha peepeepoopoo in response cos she doesn’t think anyone’s worthy enough to be her rival . if anything , she thinks it’s more endearing than annoying & it gives her something / someone to look forward to when the time comes down to it .

the angle to her deivl : anyone who’s a lil kinder , a lil softer & not as annoying around the edges . eden consistently plays devil’s advocate & will stir the pot it if brings drama & a little bit of chaos into her life , this muse is someone who’s always the ‘ eden no ’ to her ‘ eden yes ’

in relation to her circlet : fully explained in my app , but eden unabashedly views her coven as family - even if she does lean into the role of annoying cousin . she’s no leader , more of an antagonistic side kick who always plays devil’s advocate & causes trouble . that being said , when things get dirty & things need solving , that’s her main job ( she ? thinks )

in relation to the opals : opals , shmopals . a characteristic flaw is her disregard to authority figures ( always seen arguing with professors , will fight the p*lice when called to a party , has tackled various figures around campus ) , including the opals . respect should be earned & besides being her seniors , she’s seen no other reason to respect them . so , she’s outwardly disrespectful & idk what to say .

#opalsintro #THIS IS OOSOOO FLGNFJEAFH HAHHEH #WEAK SAUCE !

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bxcksdoll · 6 years ago

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Jet Lagged

Pairings: Thor x reader

Summary: Y/N has stayed at the Avengers Tower for while whist Thor has been staying in New Asguard. They haven’t seen each other in weeks and desperately miss each other.

Warnings: swearing

A/N: I had this idea because I’m still a little jet lagged haha and @xmarveled said I should write this (thank you so much for the support bby!!) so hope you guys enjoy :)

Three weeks. That was the amount of time you’d been away from him. Your boyfriend. Your love. Thor.

After the universe was saved from Thanos, you had some unfinished business to attend to back at the Avengers Tower; you hadn’t planned on it taking weeks - only one at most. Sadly, it had taken much longer than expected and you hadn’t been able to see Thor, in that time.

Thor had been in New Asguard helping Valkyrie in her new role as Queen. He had been supporting her this whole time whist he helped the people of New Asguard. You had exchanged messages back and forth, in the time you were separated. Mostly, Thor would be begging you to join him back in New Asguard and you would tell him, time after time, that you still had some work to do.

During the five years after the snap, you constantly moved back and forth from New York to New Asguard; you stayed with Thor but also had to help Natasha protect what was left of the world. The two of you, and also other Avengers scattered around the globe, managed the crime and justice on Earth. It was an extremely tiring job but it had to be done. Thor had tried to convince you that it wasn’t your responsibility but you couldn’t accept that; after losing most of your family, you felt it was your duty to continue to protect what was left.

After Thanos was defeated, you would have thought your work would die down a bit, however some mob gangs seemed to never tire. You promised Thor that you would take a break once you’d tracked down a gang, located in Colombia, with Natasha.

Thor, day after day, waited for you to finally give up working and come home to him. Dispite being among friends, in New Asguard, he always felt lonely when you left - as if a piece of him had left with you. He would never have told you, of course, because he didn’t want to be a burden on you.

Secretly, you and Natasha had finally confronted and arrested the gang but you hadn’t told Thor. You were on your way across the Atlantic Ocean to him, planning on surprising him. You felt rather guilty every time you left but told yourself that this time you wouldn’t leave his side - if you had to go back to New York you’d convince him to come with you. Both of you were sick of the long distance.

One of the main problems with the long distance was time zones; there was always 6 hours between the two of you and so you caught each other at different times. You’d wake up while he was asleep and he would wake up when you were busy working. Then, after you finished working he was usually doing his duties in New Asguard. Finally, you’d get to have a short convocation before you would end it by needing to sleep. That didn’t happen most days but more often than the two of you wished. But now you wouldn’t be stuck in different time zones - you’d be together and wouldn’t have to worry about it again.

Stepping off the plane, you winced at the sunlight burning painfully through your eye lids. In Norway it was 10am but, to you, it was 4am and you weren’t able to get any sleep on the plane.

When it came to flying, you could never sleep which had always been extremely inconvenient since you were always travelling between Norway and America. Jet lag was always a darkness looming above you - your sleep pattern was already fucked up and travelling fucked it up even more.

Moreover, after flying your head felt pressurised and dizzy while your stomach filled with painful knots. You dreaded the day when you would step on another plane.

As you arrived in Norway, your heart filled with utter content and enthusiasm to see Thor. At the airport, you jumped in a taxi and set off for New Asguard.

One of your favourite features of your home was the scenery - you never grew tired of it. The Scandinavian sights were breathtakingly idilic and, somewhat, Edenic. The atmosphere that surrounded the landscape was serene and yet overwhelmed your senses with passion and excitement.

Thor had placed New Asguard far away from any other villages or cities - he only wished for peace and calamity in his new found Haven. Therefore, it was quite a trek from the airport which wasn’t helpful to you as your eyelids kept dragging down during the car journey. However, the sun kept you awake, mercilessly

Most of the drive was a fight against your eyelids but, finally, you had arrived at New Asguard. Stepping out of the taxi, after paying, you were met with the smiling faces of Asguardians passing you by. Many greeted you, welcoming your unexpected return home.

You made your way through the villiage to the house you and Thor shared. Before you reached it, you spotted Valkyrie loading some crates into a truck.

“Hey, Val!” you shouted, waving as she turned at the sound of her name.

“...Y/N?” she replied, hesitantly. The two of you glided closer, sealing your greeting with a tight hug. “What are you doing here? Thor said you wouldn’t return for another week.”

“I wanted to surprise him,” you smiled at her.

“He’ll be thrilled,” she grinned back.

“I hope so,” you giggled while rubbing your, still droopy, eye lids. “Do you know where he is?”

“He’s playing video games with Korg and Meek again,” she rolled her eyes but then focused on you, seriousness apparent on her features. “Are you alright?”

“Me? Yeah I’m fine,” you yawned. “Just a little jet lagged I guess - it feels like 4am for me.”

“Oh, of course,” Valkyrie nodded. “Maybe you should get some sleep before seeing Thor - he can be very loud and irritating,” she joked.

“That’s a good idea,” you laughed as she accompanied you over to the little hut Thor always hung out with Korg and Meek in.

You and Valkyrie stopped at the door and she knocked loudly. Soon after, a familiar voice was heard from inside.

“I told you to leave me alone this morning, Valkyrie, I’m busy here!” The shout came. You and Valkyrie exchanged a smug look and she gestured for you to go inside.

Slowly and cautiously, you opened the door as Valkyrie followed behind you.

“I have someone here to see you, Thor. Someone I know you’d very much like to see,” she called from behind you as the two of you, quietly walked over the heaps of trash on the floor.

“There’s no one I wish to see! Send them away!” Thor commanded, in a frustrated voice.

Finally, stepping into the room you took notice of Thor, Korg and Meek playing together on some video game with mountains of junk food around them. Thor was sat in a pair of sweatpants and socks; he was shirtless as his protruding stomach - which he was usually so self-conscious about - exposed itself. None of the three even bothered to glance up at you or Valkyrie.

“You wouldn’t send me all the way back to New York, now would you?” you smirked, leaning against the door frame.

Thor’s head shot up at your voice. He dropped his game controller with a thud and lunged himself out of his chair, towards you. He captured you in his arms, picking you off the floor and peppering kisses all over your face.

“I’ve missed you with all my heart, Y/N! I can’t believe you’re here!” he yelled, causing your head to ache due to the loud, unexpected noise. Valkyrie was right, maybe you should have slept before seeing Thor.

“I’ve missed you too, sweetie,” you giggled.

As he placed you back down, you held his handsome face in your hands and brought his lips to yours in a hungry, passionate kiss that you had both longed for for weeks. He moaned against your mouth, his tongue savouring every inch of yours he could get.

As you broke apart for breath, you heard Korg mumble, “maybe we should leave these two love birds alone, eh, Meek?”

Thor turned to them, thanking the two and Valkyrie as well. After they left, he turned back to you, placing his large hand on your delicate cheek. You were so precious to him - his whole world.

For a moment, all his attention was on you until he realised he wasn’t wearing a shirt. “Oh,” he mumbled and brought his arms around his stomach to cover himself slightly. Even after all these years together, he was still insecure when you saw him like this.

“Thor, what are you doing?” you squinted, trying to remove his arms from his stomach.

“Nothing,” he smiled. “I’m just a little underdressed for you, that’s all.”

“Sweetie, please don’t be embarrassed. I love you for who you are and I don’t mind how you look! We’ve been over this, Thor,” you assured him, placing your arms around the back of his neck.

This made Thor perk up slightly, grinning down at you. “Thank you, Y/N. You always know exactly what to say, my love.”

You smiled up at him as he brought his face down to yours and rested his forehead upon yours. Your noses touched and your heart soared from this loving, physical connection.

The two of you closed your eyes in content and comfort, finally reunited. However, you closed your eyes in more than content - you were so relaxed that your eyelids had finally lost the determined fight to stay awake. As you drifted off, your body moved closer to Thor’s as your legs went limp. Luckily, Thor caught you just in time as your body pressed flat against his. He held you in his arms and supported you while shaking your shoulders.

“Uh, Y/N?” he asked, in confusion.

“What?” you snapped awake, eyes wide.

“You fell asleep,” Thor laughed, quirking an eyebrow.

“What are you talking about? No I didn’t,” you lied, your eyes starting to feel droopy again.

“Yes you did, you just fell onto me,” Thor chuckled as you almost fell again. “You’re jet lagged, aren’t you?”

You hesitated, scoffing at his words. Then, you looked silently at him as your features lost their smile. “Maybe just a little bit,” you croaked.

Thor chuckled, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “Come, let’s get you onto the sofa.” He guided you towards it but you refused to move, shaking your head ferociously.

“No, this place stinks! I don’t wanna sleep on that filthy thing!” you argued and Thor laughed.

“Then can you walk from here to the house?” he questioned.

“Of course I can. It’s not that far away from here,” you replied, waving a hand in the air.

“Alright, then,” Thor chuckled, once again, and let go of you. For a moment, you felt as though you could crumble to the floor but then repositioned your posture and began walking out the door - more like stumbling.

Thor followed behind you, shaking his head in laughter. “I can’t watch this.” Just then, he moved in front of you, ducking down and picking you up by your legs proceeding to throw you over his shoulder.

“Thor!” you laughed. “I’m fine, honestly,” you defended.

“No you’re not. I’m not going to let you fall over. Instead, I’m going to take you home and make sure you’re alright.” His words made your stomach flood with butterflies.

“I’ve missed this,” you mumbled as he carried you down the cobbled paths of New Asguard.

Tag list: @xmarveled

#thor x reader #chubby! thor #thor imagine #thor one shot #marvel #thor #thor odinson #marvel imagine #avengers

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peterjakes · 5 years ago

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“you own a grinch costume and won’t tell me why and I’m getting kind of annoyed”

this is my contribution to the society secret santa 2019 for the lovely @theswiftiewholived x

it's sam and grizz first christmas together and sam finds something very interesting in his boyfriend's wardrobe and just wants to know why

ao3; https://archiveofourown.org/works/21987562

alyssa, i really hope you enjoy this! lots of love xo

The first Christmas in New Ham was the only thing that had kept everyone going the past few weeks. Since the new leadership, not much had change officially; everyone still had the same jobs, most people were still crammed into houses with at least 20 people, and there was still that feeling of distrust and uneasiness amongst the crowds. One of the most obvious things was the weather. It had gotten cold, really cold. Hardly anyone went out anymore, only to work and the cafeteria was usually empty at lunch and dinner; people seemed to favour eating in their homes safe from the outside world. It hadn’t snowed either. Something that was extremely disappointing for Sam, especially considering that was his favourite part about this particular time of year. Of course, up until a few days ago the thought of Christmas hadn’t even crossed Sam’s mind. He’d been so occupied by Eden and of course, Grizz. The two had been pretty inseparable the past few weeks, much to Sam’s delight, and this dark, December evening was no different. The two hadn’t planned on seeing each other; Eden had taken up a lot of Sam’s time now, especially when he wanted to give Becca a break and Grizz had been spending more and more time hosting secret meetings at his house, something that worried Sam immensely. He didn’t want any more trouble, especially for Grizz. But Grizz had arrived earlier that evening, insisting on an impromptu movie night and there was no way Sam was going to deny himself a chance to be engrossed in Grizz’s arms whilst watching one of his favourite films. After almost 40 minutes of bickering over which film to choose; they’d decided on The Breakfast Club; Grizz wasn’t so sure at first, it was beyond cheese according to him, but one look at Sam’s baby blues and he was convinced. Sam had become quite talented at getting his own way with Grizz.

Midway through the film, the thought of the cold briefly entered Sam’s mind, he started to shiver, only slightly, but Grizz seemed to be so tapped into Sam’s every moment and jolted suddenly.

“You cold?” Grizz immediately sat up, slowly brushing his warm hand over the obvious goose bumps on Sam’s bare arm. Sam’s eyebrows furrowed slightly; he was particular comfy in that position and now that was all ruined because Grizz was also so careful when it came to Sam.

When Sam didn’t respond, Grizz turned over so he was directly facing him, their faces almost paralleling each other. “Sam.” There was a sternness to his usual soft and kind face that Sam hadn’t experienced before, and truth be told, he didn’t hate it.

“I’m fine. Honest.” Sam signed this quickly, trying to get comfy once again, leaning against the headboard. He tried to focus back on the film, but he could tell Grizz was agitated. Sam could feel his eyes on him, knowing that Grizz wasn’t going to let it go. He glanced back up at the boy beside him, giving him a pointed look, waiting for the obvious reply he knew would escape Grizz’s lips.

“One of my hoodie’s in the wardrobe, just by the side.” Grizz nodded towards his wardrobe at the other side of the room, giving Sam a small smile. Sam borrowing Grizz’s clothes, especially his hoodies had become a regular occurrence. He’d always notice at least one or two pieces of clothing missing and knew exactly who the culprit was.

Sam dragged his feet over to the wardrobe, knowing there was no point arguing with Grizz. Browsing through the masses of clothes, he noticed a bright red and green piece of fabric in-between two hoodies Sam had stolen before. Glancing back towards Grizz, who was now engrossed in the film, not even noticing Sam’s eyes on him once again, and then back to the fabric. He yanked it out hard, and his face lit up when he realised what it was.

“What. Is. This.”

Grizz’s eyes were still focused intently on the film, not realising how gleeful Sam looked in that moment. “What is what?”

“This!” Sam boldly held up the costume, smiling to himself at what a wonder he had found.

Grizz glanced up, and Sam knew immediately he was embarrassed, but who wouldn’t be if their boyfriend found a very suspicious-looking Christmas costume in their closet. “Uh…” Excuses started to whizz around in Grizz’s brain, but nothing solid enough appeared.

“Grizz?” Sam raised his eyebrow, whilst slowing tapping his left foot. He was becoming agitated, knowing so clearly that Grizz knew exactly what Sam wanted to know. There was no fooling him.

Grizz stayed silent, becoming seemingly very interested in a pull on the duvet, trying to untangle it from his fingers. Exasperated, Sam pulled the costume fully out of the wardrobe, dragged it across the floor and dumped it in front of Grizz, almost knocking over the laptop as he did. “You own a grinch costume, you won’t tell me why and I’m getting kind of annoyed.”

“Leave it. Just, come on, finish the film,” Grizz signed, almost pleading with Sam. He wasn’t used to this sensation, he liked to think he could be pretty controlled, but this seemed to be faltering. “Sam, please.”

“I might try it on…” Sam mumbled, pulling it away from Grizz’s clasping hands and placing it on top of his own body. He moved around a little as if he was dancing with it. This only infuriated Grizz more, who tried to move towards Sam to grab the costume away.

“No!”

“It’s just a costume…” Mocking him, Sam’s brows furrowed slightly. He really didn’t get why this was such an issue. Grizz was never the secretive type. Recently, he’d been pretty open with, well, everything. Sam had enjoyed that. Finding out all these small, but significant about Grizz, and his life before New Ham had been perfect. But Sam knew trying to get anything out of Grizz about this was going to prove more difficult.

“Exactly; just leave it will you.”

“Someone got out of the wrong side this morning.” It became clear to Sam that Grizz definitely wasn’t going to see the funny side about this, ever. Sam chucked the costume back into the closet and moved towards the bed. Trying to catch Grizz’s attention, he started to play with a loose strand of his hair. “Grizz. I’m sorry, okay? I just thought it was strange. If you wanted to hide it, should have put it somewhere else.”

“I forgot it was there.”Grizz sighed, still avoiding Sam’s eyes, although this wasn’t going to last. Sam knew all of Grizz’s weaknesses and playing with his hair was one of them.

“Hm. It’s cute.”

“Sam, don’t push it.” Whilst brushing Sam away, indicating he was still very much annoyed about this whole situation, Grizz moved over towards the closet, placing the costume back in its correct space.

“Fine, fine. Sure you won’t show me?”

“I’m not even gonna answer that.” Grizz signed, whilst turning around. He made sure to brush past Sam and flopped back onto the bed.

“Okay. But why on earth do you have an adult-sized grinch costume that looks pretty new and hardly worn? I’m just curious.” Sam thought that was a relatively normal question, considering the circumstance. It just seemed quite odd for Grizz to have something so… Christmassy. It wasn’t that Grizz was a complete, well grinch, but he hadn’t been excited at the prospect of New Ham’s first Christmas. Although, it was most likely the fact that everything had gone to shit and Grizz had been given so much to do trying to sort it all out.

“Very good reasons, okay?” That’s what Grizz liked to tell himself whenever he thought of that awful costume. He had his reasons. And he wouldn’t be telling those to anyone. Especially his boyfriend who looked like he was about to explode at the thought of Grizz owning the most ridiculous piece of clothing either of them had laid eyes on.

“Hm, not sure I believe that.” Sam moved up towards Grizz, pulling him to a sitting position and started to move his fingers in a circular motion on his thigh, something he knew Grizz found hard to resist. “It is yours, right?”

“Yes, I think we’ve established that Sam.” Sam could be extremely exhausting, something Grizz had learned pretty quickly after coming back to New Ham from the expedition, but honestly? One look into those bright, blue eyes and almost all was forgotten. Or at least for a while.

Sam started to pout, knowing that there was only so much Grizz could say no to. “I’m waiting.”

“Sam…” Begging had come across Grizz’s mind, but he surmised it wasn’t that desperate. Not yet, anyway. Giving in would be the easy way out, and what would Sam do realistically? Laugh. A lot. “You have to promise.”

“What?”

“That you won’t laugh, at all. Deal?”

“Fine. Just tell me!”

“So, my mum, she…. she had this kind of tradition. We would dress up on Christmas Eve, so… that’s it.” Saying it out loud didn’t sound that bad to Grizz or at least for the first minute but as soon as he realised Sam was wearing one of those smiles, he knew it was the biggest mistake. Ever.

“But it’s adult-sized?”

“Yeah, she wanted me to get a lot of wear out of it,” Grizz said quickly, avoiding Sam’s piercing eyes. He couldn’t actually believe he’d said that out loud. Let alone to Sam. Jesus. He turned to press the power button on the laptop, knowing there was no way they were going to finish the film when he heard a slight snigger appear from beside him. Without even thinking, he pushed Sam’s arm, a little too hard for his liking, making Sam almost falling off the bed. But that didn’t stop his laughter, it actually heightened it. “You promised, you little shit.”

Moving back onto the bed, Sam tried to compose himself but failed miserably. After at least another 5 minutes of Sam’s uncontrollable laughter, he managed to force himself to stop. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it! You’re just so hilarious.”

“Stop it!”

“Fine.” Sam conceded, slide down beside Grizz and placed his hand on Grizz’s neck. He could feel a quick speed of breathing coming from Grizz, he seemed to be gulping down. Could it be that he was nervous? Grizz never seemed to get nervous around Sam, not anymore. Sam almost missed that. The clumsiness. The constant avoiding Sam’s eyes. The almost eager look in his eye. Sam moved his hand slowly down to the other boy’s collarbone and started to stroke ever so slightly. He always made sure to be extra delicate with Grizz, he felt Grizz needed that. “Do you have a secret stash of costumes? I mean we had the feather boa, the handcuffs and magic wand. What else are you hiding? Sexy Santa costume?”

A stifled laugh escaped Grizz’s mouth, he couldn’t help it. Sam always knew how to lighten Grizz up. “I hate you.” He didn’t sign this, but nothing Grizz has ever said could have been less true. There was no real way to describe how he felt about Sam. He meant everything to him. He couldn’t imagine his life without him. And he never wanted to. And kissing him? God. Kissing him was like breathing Sam in the like a cool inhalation of oxygen to warm the soul. Like the opening of his soul, tasting that feeling and seeing every colour of the rainbow, almost like catching a smile in a bottle, it’s softness, it’s sweetness.

“Hm, no I don’t think so.” Sam, whilst shaking his head, moving his head up closer to Grizz, studying his features. Something he had spent so much time doing over the past few weeks. He never became tired of this. And knew he never would.

“I should hate you. You’re way too mean.” Grizz glanced to his side, the other boy’s freckled face was only inches away, their eyes locked onto each other, clearly not wanting to ever look away or let go.

“You couldn’t,” Sam spoke so softly this time, almost desperate to cling on to Grizz, like a small koala, not wanting to let go.

“No, you’re right. But if you mention this to anyone…” Grizz warned, knowing his efforts would be futile as one look at Sam’s face would make him forget every single thing he’d ever said.

“You’ll just have to keep me sweet.” Sam longed to kiss Grizz, longed to feel his skin along with his, longed to be intertwined with Grizz.

“Well, I’m pretty good at that.” Grizz let his hands lead the way, wrapping Sam around his own body. He moved up from Sam’s ribcage up to his chest, dragging his fingertips up slowly. He never tired of touching Sam, never. Each time felt like the first, that Thanksgiving evening that felt so long ago.

At first, the two boys’ lips barely touched, almost as if they were too scared about what would happen next. Grizz let his lips sit in front of Sam’s for a moment as if he was pondering his next move. But it was Sam who moved next, slowly but carefully, his lips latched onto the brown-haired boys in front of him. He moved his hands once again to Grizz’s neck, the heat of the two was palpable. Grizz was becoming more breathless by each second, his desperation for Sam was clear. He was always desperate for Sam; he didn’t feel like himself without him.

Sam seemed to be moving faster than Grizz had anticipated, the kisses were getting shorter and shorter. Wet. Hard. Grizz couldn’t almost keep up, needing something to hold onto, he moved his hands towards the back of Sam’s head and grabbed hold of his ginger locks. A small moan was released from Sam’s lips, but Grizz felt it before he heard it. A smile formed on his lips, unintentionally, but he couldn’t help himself. Sam was gentle, playful, but with that slight edge of hunger that made him irresistible to Grizz. Grizz’s grip tightened, pulling Sam closer, pressing himself into him. The warmth of Sam’s breath, destabilising and inviting, was making it hard for Grizz to contain himself. Claiming his mouth again, hungry and intense, Sam stole his breath and gave it back.

Not wanting the two to get into a mess they’d have to explain later, Grizz gave Sam one last peck on the lips before pulling away, a warm smile appearing on his face. He knew that the first Christmas in New Ham was going to be a good one. Maybe the best he’d had in a long time.

#tsss2019 #userpau #the society fic #the society fanfic #the society fanfiction #sam x grizz #grizzam #the society

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occult-castiel · 5 years ago

Text

Secret Santa gift for @fallenoriath! Hope you enjoy it, this was my first time trying to write these two, hope I did it some amount of justice! Title: Pillow Talk

Word count: 4842

Characters: Gabriel, Beelzebub, Aziraphale, Crowley, Micheal

Summary: Beelzebub and Gabriel disagree about when things started

Gabriel's fingers ghosted across Beezbub's exposed skin in the early morning light. It was warm, like always. Their heat seeped into him every time they went to bed together, every time their skin brushed. It was always almost like a shock, their flame-charged essence.

Maybe it had something to do with the fall.

Either way, it was something Gabriel found out slowly and quickly, and was reinforced every morning when he cracked his eyes open, staring at the room that shouldn’t be, in the apartment that shouldn’t be, all on the planet that definitely, completely shouldn’t be.

A trifecta was appropriate. But that was the only proper thing about having a Lord of Hell tucked under his arm, burning away and soundly asleep.

Cuddling. A corner of his mind provided, quite dryly.

"How the fuck did this happen."

It wasn't a question, he had a habit of not asking too many of those, unless it was on the backend of an accusation at someone clearly not doing their job. But Beelzebub groaned.

Beelzebub flipped themselves over, and more of their smooth, unnaturally warm skin pressed against Gabriel's.

He almost shuttered.

"Does it matter?"

He frowned and picked at their unruly black runaway hairs, and hummed in disapproval. "Probably the Fall. I was glad everyone else was gone."

He could remember that very clearly. One minute, he was in a conversation with what used to be Beelzebub, the next, half of Heaven was missing.

They had been beautiful, stunning as an Angel. Not much was different, except for a white robe a subtle heavenly glow, and hair that flowed down in perfect locks of a black that put creation to shame

And their eyes-- their eyes were like two shimmering blueberries. The Angel was up for a briefing, they were to be the patron of the moon, a new promotion that would put at almost equal levels of power. Almost.

"Asariel," Garbiel smiled as the Angel took their seat. "Good to see you."

He’d been on edge, most of the day. Still a hard monolith of a man, he stood straight and held his head high.

But a new scream echoing down the now baren Halls of Heaven was enough to leave a crack or two. Enough, after a few hundred, to all sound the same. Almost like it was one long, uninterrupted.

When the Angel walked in, crestfallen face on display, he figured they must feel the same.

But all the falling really was for the best, so he smiled. Business as usual. “I have good news for you!”

The pulled out a chair across from Gabrial at his always immaculate desk.

“Isn’t anything good about today.”

He ignored the tightness in his throat. “SIlver lining, then.”

A new scream sounded from behind the door. Asariel’s face tightened. They were glaring at their clenched hands.

His own shoulders slumped. “It’s for the best.”

Their gaze snapped up, and fire was shot at him in their deep blue eyes. “Lying doesn’t suit you, Gabriel.”

He scoffed, visibly taken aback. “I am not—”

All the color drained from the Angel’s face, their eyes froze to the icy, lifeless color it would stay for the rest of eternity as a scream was ripped out of them.

It didn’t take long for the fire to consume them.

Gabriel sat there in silence, staring at the soot-stained spot where the Angel once was.

Beezlebub laid still, their breathing all but stopped.

“That doesn’t count.”

“All I’m saying is— “

“It doesn’t count.” They eyed up at them, there was an edge to it, and pinched upon look. “If you want something that early, then it was when we met.”

“When I assigned— “

They let out an irritated huff of air. “No, Sodom if we’re going that far back.”

Sodom was a city of sand. It seeps, stuck, and whisked in every direction under the pale moonlight. The pillars were lined with it, homes drenched in it, and Beezlebubs shoes were full of it as they trailed two Angels across the dimly lit city— two they were all too familiar with from before.

Eventually, they parted ways, Sandolphone taking refuge in some humans house, and Gabriel ventured off to a nearby pub. Wine had recently been refined again, and the human wasted no time in sharing the fruits.

The little building was bursting with people, all chattering, drinking. Ripe for a bit of tempting, bit that never was Beelzebubs primary objective in any situation.

They beelined for Gabriel. An untouched cup of wine sat in front of him.

Quietly, over his shoulder, they whispered, "What's a little angel like you doing in a place like this?"

Every muscle in his body stiffened. "Asariel."

They yanked a fistful of his hair back, forcing his inhuman eyes on them.

"Do I look like that person?"

"Vaguely," Gabriel said, a weariness in his voice.

"I have half a mind to discorporate you." They released his hair.

"Well, it'd be pointless. What's done is done." He rubbed his scalp. "This place is all going to salt and sand soon."

A spark of rage shot threw them and they grit their teeth. "You Angel's are ruining my work again."

He shrugged. "Ineffable plan. Divine work. One day you'll get their souls."

He looked tired. Not necessarily sad, but like the humans do, when they've decided sleeping could be put off for a day or two.

It'd be easy, to make good on the threat. But he'd looked tired that day too.

So instead, they left. What was done is done, and they weren't interested in fighting two Archangels today.

“I was there for decades.”

“Tsk.” he rolled his eyes. “It was disgusting. The place was full of rapists.”

“Yeah, and your lot isn’t? If I recall right, the girls you spared raped their father that very night.”

“Look, that wasn’t my policy decision, okay?”

“This is the problem with you Angels. You all have superiority complexes.”

“Whatever. The point is, that wasn’t it.”

They glared, and shocked a finger into his chest. "If you're suggesting it was at that wenches implantation, I'll douse you in Hellfire myself."

The sky was black, a deep, unrelenting blackness that only came from the depths of nothing itself.

Which, honestly, should’ve been the first clue.

In the distance stood a small shack. A faint orange glow whispered through the shabby little windows.

The whole house looked run down and muddy, but everything on the planet did. But the son of God was meant to be born into humility, so Gabriel just shrugged it off and briskly walked towards it.

The place smelled. And the silly tunic itched horrendously. The heat of the Earth was nothing like the constant chill of Heaven, and it made the tunic, already uncomfortable, cling to his skin.

He had no idea why the Metatron was so insistent he couldn’t just have Aziraphale tell Mary about the child. It’d been ages since Eden.

A mass of black moved near the corner. Gabriel jerked to a stop.

He cleared his throat.

Nothing.

He lifted a hand. Golden streaks of yellow cracked over his skin. Heavenly light seeped from them. “Come out now, or be killed. Your choice, demon.”

There was a huff, and suddenly, a familiar voice behind him. “I’m not some demon, Archangel.”

He swiveled around, more of his corporal skin cracking to golden light as he sneered.

"Of course it's you." His hand dropped, and the light died down. A deep breath filled his chest. "Now, why are you here?”

They balled their fists. "Why am I here? Why do you think I'm here?!"

"There's nothing you can do about it."

"Oh?" A hoard of flies popped up around them, buzzing, flying erratically. "You're wrong. Your lot loves free will, yeah? Well if Shes going to come be one of them for a while, wants to experience it or whatever, then I have the free will to kill the mother here and now."

Gabriel threw his hands in the air. "And what? I'm supposed to let you? Not happening"

"Just give me a reason. How is this fair to the plan?"

"The humans are supposed to kill him. It's good for both sides."

"I don't care." Their hair raised, and floated as unnaturally as their tunic. A subtle black mist pooled at their feet "If She wants to come here, She should do it Herzzzelf."

"So you want Her to pay, yeah?"

"More."

"Okay," Gabriel started, "Deep breaths. If you want any kind of vengeance, this kid needs to be born, end of story. Then your," he winced, "corrupting will do something."

"You already destroyed the work I put into that," they snapped.

"Look, what if I tell you the next time something like this is happening? Keep the plan in motion and any, uh, spite aside."

They crossed their arms. "I'm listening."

"Had to have been that. Besides, you're the one who skipped over the Tower."

Beelzebub pressed themself impossibly closer, and they painted Gabriels exposed skin with small pecks, each warm press as skin-meltingly warm as they last. His hand tightened around their waste.

“The tower was a tragedy,” they breathed across the exposed skin of his neck. He shivered, just a bit.

“And attempted murder isn’t?”

“Perspective.”

Their lips pressed together, and, like every time, it felt like diving into a warm pool of water. Gabriel’s entire body relaxed into it, turned to mush.

A hand like fire trailed across their back, pulling them in. Gabriel’s hair was always sickeningly soft, Beelzebub took every chance possible to grab it, twist it, make it messy. Their fingers trailed up his side, over his chest, and grazed through ever perfectly placed strand, and pulled.

A thought occurred to them, and they pulled away.

“Did I ever tell you,” they said over Gabriel’s protesting, “That Michael came to Hell?”

He stilled, “after she was attacked?”

“Attacked,” they rolled their eyes, “Is an overstatement.”

Ligur, in his infinite stupidity, got into a tiff with an Angel, which Gabriel had called them into a meeting for not an hour earlier.

Gabriel’s hands were clasped tightly in front of him. He tilted on the back of his heels every few breaths, eyes shifting up and down the impossibly long staircase.

"So. Michael was attacked."

Beelzebub eyed him. Nervous fuck. "I don't care if an Angel gets hurt."

He glared. "It was one of your people that did it!"

"And we're at war," they said as they turned to leave.

Gabriel's hand snapped out to grab their wrist. The warmth of the steely grip burned. Beelzebub ripped their hand away and glared.

"Hey! You don't have to be defensive!"

A flash of anger dashed through their veins. It didn't show.

"Better defensive than nervous."

His face twisted into a picture of indignity. "I am not nervous." But his eyes still shifted.

As a rule, Angel's were liars, and not worth an ounce of loyalty. Not that their subordinates were any better, but no one was trying to lie about it. Lying, throwing things away, that was Heaven's business.

Loyalty was dead in Hell, it went down screaming in the Fall. That was the point of it all.

Of course, it was an Archangel Ligur pissed off. Of course, it was Michael.

"It's her fault for trusting a demon."

He rolled his eyes. "Michael doesn't trust demons. She was attacked. In cold blood."

"She set up a backchannel. The demon didn't like the deal."

"Don't be ridiculous. This," he motioned between them, "is a fluke."

Of course Gabriel thought he was the only one with backchannel.

Idiot.

They both left without resolving anything, but Beelzebub’s newfound frustration at the situation got him an unrelated punishment.

Seeing the affronted Archangel in question was a surprise, though.

Michael, in all her glorious, white, crispness, crossed her arms in front of Beelzebub. Her gaze was ice but her posture slouched.

"You aren't doing anything to him."

Beezlebub stared. It was sort of a sight, some creature of Heaven bothering to sully themselves by venturing into the basement. They'd been in contact with Gabriel for a few hundred years and neither of them ventured to the other side.

After a few beats of silence, Michael continued on in a puff. "You do realise he attacked me?"

They almost smiled. "I don't take orders from Angels."

Her hand balled into fists. "We had an agreement!"

"My fault you made a bad deal, then?"

She sneered and turned to leave, but hesitated at the hallway entrance. They raised an eyebrow.

“We could have an agreement instead. An exchange of information, little help if needed.”

They felt something at that. A creeping sense of nausea, but something.

Gabriel was an idiot, probably a liar. But he wasn’t slimy. “No.”

She huffed. “What? Do you already have one?”

“And why would I tell the enemy that?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Because, I hear everything first, and I probably have some troubling news about your best field agent.”

And that’s just it, isn’t it? Even if they said yes, the words already sounded like lies. Beelzebub knew everything they needed to, regardless of if Crowley, they assumed, had done anything he ought to have not. Heaven really overemphasized the apple bit.

Gabriel was a liar too, but not like the others he’d seen. He lied to protect an image or save his own ass

“Get out of my sight.”

And she did.

Gabriel pushed Beelzebub off of him, albeit softly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Just did, didn’t I?”

He huffed. “It would’ve been good to know my associates were— were—”

“Associating?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Either way, at least I actually chose something when that bloody Angel popped in, not just some circumstance.”

“Oh if mine aren’t good enough, do I need to remind you I came to Hell too?”

“Because you were out of options.”

“Because I wanted your help.”

Gabriel had been the most cross being in all of existence, after. Everyone had backchannels. His primary earthly agent was a traitor. Humanity, in all of its stupid bumbling, remained. As did the irritation.

Barely a week passed before Gabriel, for the first time ever, entered Hell, and very publicly requested Beelzebubs presence.

Each ding on the elevator down, each floor passed, was another memory ticking by. His hands clasped themselves in front of him like steel, very unsteady, almost fidgety, steel.

This was the best option. Beelzebub understood. Beelzebub had helped him on a few occasions, he knew them from before. Certainly, they must understand each other a bit by now. Maybe.

The doors opened. He took a deep breath and stepped into Hell, the corporate end, anyway.

Several demons coward, a few hissed, as he pushed his way past them to the short walk to the throne. No need for this little meeting to be a secret when everyone was doing it anyway, it seemed.

If they were phased, it didn’t show. A single eyebrow raised, their arms crossed, and a little frown was notched into place like it was sculpted there.

“What brings you to my domain, Archangel?” They said in a bored, uninterested tone.

And this was it, wasn’t it? All the Angels in Heaven, a whole Holy army at his disposal, and he crawls to Hell before saying a word, except for putting in a leave of absence.

“I want your help.”

A faint smirk twitched into, and just as quickly flickered out of existence. “I’m listening.”

“Tsk, you knew Angels would be useless here—”

“— You say that like we’ve done anything—”

“But this place,” they motioned around the room, “that’s… notable.”

It took about a week for both of them to decide that a base of operations was a good idea. So they took residence in a flat across the street from the demons. Somewhere to be while they kept watch. It was large and sleek, full of deep brown wood and dark walls and counters. Unassuming and empty, aside from what little furniture the place came with.

“Mn, no. This place was useful. But, we were tailing them on dates. So, maybe that?”

Gabriel glared at a plate of food.

The lightening of the place was dim. It was mostly grey, with little splashes of yellow and green in pieces of artwork hung sparsely about. Every plate was about ten times as expensive as it ought to be.

Gabriel’s plate had what appeared to be a pile of expensive goop on it. In the corner of Beezelbub's eye, they could see the traitorous little Angel devouring it.

“What is this atrocity?” The Archangel shuttered.

Beelzebub studied their own plate, a mirror of Gabriel’s own. They decidedly snatched a fork, stabbed the grey, slimy glob, and swallowed it whole.

Oysters, the menu called them. More like a mistake. They felt them crawl down their throat the whole way down. “Disgusting is what it is. Now eat it.”

He huffed. “I am not putting that in my body.”

“You wear clothes, don’t you?” They stabbed another. “It’s about fitting in. Not that you’d know much about that.”

“We’re watching them, not playing human.”

They shrugged. “Not much of a difference. Unless you have an early exit strategy. Eat up, Archangel.”

He plucked a fork up, and proceeded to swirl the atrocity around his plate. “And I have no idea what you’re talking about. I can fit in just fine. Archangels are the epitome of perfection.”

Beelzebub huffed a laugh. Gabriel shot a glare. “We’re Her chosen Angels. Not that you’d know much about that.”

They took another bite, and washed the thin coating of slime down with a swig of wine. “Then prove it. Play human. Unless you can’t, Because,” they stabbed another piece, “I can.”

He shoved three on a fork. “Anything a demon can do, someone of my stature can do better.”

The oysters disappearing into his mouth, and he almost choked. Unfortunately, two coughs later and he was fine.

“I’m getting these reclassified as a deadly sin.”

They took a sip of wine. It was sweet, not nearly as bad. “Sins are liberating. Humans enjoy them if they’re the kind we get.”

“Well look at that shameless display!” He motioned wildly to their good for nothing underling and the angel, who was still thoroughly enjoying the meal. “If he likes it, it can’t be holy. Aziraphale is backwards.”

“Hell could take him. Maybe holy water would work then.”

He looked disgusted. “And what? We take the demon?” He laughed. “No.”

“Suit yourself.” They pushed his untouched glass of wine towards him. “Try the wine.”

Tentatively, he plucked the glass up and swirled it in the cup. The red liquid almost spilled over as he examined it, nose up.

Eventually, he took a sip. And then another.

“Hm.” He gave the cup another swirl. “Not bad.”

A few weeks of tailing the two from one restaurant to the next, and a wine rack appeared in the apartment’s living room. When Beelzebub looked at it in question, Gabriel just shrugged.

They even got a bit drunk, a few times.

Dust plastered every available surface. It wasn’t something they had to deal with in the etherial plane, so they didn’t deal with it. Little pitters of rain thumped against the windows, the sole reason they were in the apartment for more than roughly a half-hour. Gabriel couldn’t be bothered to get his hair wet.

Ridiculous.

It took Beelzebub almost no time at all to suggest actually drinking some of the wine that was also collecting dust, and that was all the convincing it took.

Three bottles later and Beelzebub sat in a lone chair, scrunched in on themself, wine glass in hand. Gabriel was slung about on the couch. By all means, the wine should’ve been in a puddle on the floor, or the coach, or on his suit.

But Beelzebub figured the liquid must know what was best for it, so it mostly stayed in place, decidedly not spilling. Though the thought of him being that frivolous with miracles was amusing.

“It’s— It’s holy, Beez—”

“Do not call me that.”

He rolled his eyes, and flung into a proper sitting position, however uncoordinated.

“Fine. But the wine, it’s holy. How aren’t you burning alive?” He sounded bewildered

They tsked and took a sip. Warmth radiated from their cheeks, had been for a while now, but it was a comfortable thing, nothing like what they’d seen of holy water. Certainly nothing like the fire of falling.

“People sin with it far more often.”

His face scrunched. “Not as often as they use it in communion.”

“You’re wrong. It’s one of the easier tickets to Hell.”

He hesitated, staring at the glass of liquid like it might burst into fire. They sighed.

"Good for blending in though, hm?"

He glanced at the cup, then at them, then at the cup again.

They tried a toast. "To blending in."

He drank, albeit wearily.

But not so much the time after that, or any subsequent.

Other outings happened too, they trailed them to museums, parks, a particularly messy child’s birthday party once.

“I did enjoy the tempting of it, never got out much after the Biblical days.”

“It was not a temptation.”

They snickered. “Just like the whole scarf thing wasn’t flirting, hm?”

Gabriel blushed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Sure.”

“I hate this… whatever it is.”

Gabriel pipped up, almost bounced in place. “Hey! I know this one! The humans call it Fall.”

They clicked their tongue. “Falling was scorching. Not,” they motioned to Gabriel’s scarf, annoyed that they even needed such a silly, frilly thing. It was bulky and white and only drew attention. “whatever the Heaven that is.”

“It’s fashionable. And if you think food is the only way to fit in, you’re wrong. You don’t even have a jacket.”

“I’ll just be noticed, then.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re unbelievable.” And, before Beezelbub had a word in protest wise, his silly, stupid scarf wrapped around their neck in a swift motion.

Its warmth radiated down their neck and yanked a slew of goosebumps to their skin. An odd sensation, one you would never get in the depths of Hell.

Gabriel sneered. “Better?”

They didn’t answer.

Gabriel chuckled. “You looked so embarrassed then.”

Beelzebub was on top of him in an instant, and whispered into his ear, “Need I remind you who started this?” They motioned vaguely to the bed.

“That was only because you’d said how amazing sleeping was—”

“— So I tempted you— “

“No, I chose you, consciously, after we saw those two dimwits sucking face. No temptation.”

December came, and the traitors were still going out for a nice little walks in the snow-dusted paths of Saint James Park. It was dark and cold, and the human’s inefficient lights barely glowed orange enough to properly light anything, but it was enough.

Enough to see how Aziraphale clung to the creature. To see the way he clung back with an arm over his shoulder.

They weren't often close enough to make out words, but tonight they were lucky when the two stopped under the bandstand.

"You look cold," the demon said.

"Well, tis the season, my dear."

And then, very carefully, Aziraphale let the demon kiss him.

"Better?" He sounded so smug. Aziraphale yanked him back down.

And they didn't explode. Like they should’ve.

Beelzebub shivered.

When they got back to the apartment, Gabriel saw it with frightening clarity. The records were strewn about, the bottle of nail polish on the dresser. Tailor-made clothes were thrown neatly in a hamper.

They had shampoo. There was food in stock.

Beezlebub pushed past him and grumbled they were going to sleep and to keep it the fuck down. Since they watched movies humans made on a tv humans enjoyed.

A wave of dizziness struck him. He barely heard the slamming of the bedroom door. It all looked big and empty, but still too small, too full of something intangible.

They were native. Both of them. They'd gone native.

Just like their two uncooperative field agents.

For the first time, Gabriel really imagined.

God, he was stupid

“You did this.”

They paused at the door. “Did what?”

“You,” he huffed out a breath in disbelief. “You tempted me.”

Beelzebub’s face scrunched. “What the Heaven are you on about?”

He motioned wildly. “This is all an indulgence!”

“You,” they snapped, “Invited me here. Your idea.”

Anger churned in his blood, a white-hot fury. “To punish them! Not play human!”

They crossed their arms. “And have you figured out a way to do that yet?”

“No, that’s not the point—” he groaned, and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m leaving” he called over his shoulder, the door already shut before Beelzebub would say a word.

The dinners, the music, the clothes, and the rituals. It wasn’t bad, and the traitors did it all together. Seemed to like it so much more together.

For the first time, Gabriel imagined. Really imagined.

What if he’d done this alone? If Beezelbub had laughed in his face when he asked them to go to earth? What if Aziraphale got the Mary assignment after all?

He saw Aziraphale and Crowley under the bandstand again in his head, but instead, Beezelbub was under his arm, clung to his side, and after seeing them kiss, he'd turn to the side, look down at the little hellspawn and—

Aziraphale’s bookshop stared him in the face. How long had his… fraternizing been going on? Why had it been going on?

Months later and he still didn’t get it.

He only had to pound three times before the stuffy little Angel answered the door.The door rushed out the tantalizing heat from within, the shop reeked of sugar and dust. And brimstone. But he was mostly nose blind to that. Mostly.

“I’m sorry but we’re very closed— Oh, Gabriel.”

His eyes bulged like little saucers, any haughtiness from the failed execution wiped out.

“Aziraphale.”

“I, ah,” his eyes shifted towards the cave of books, a dark and yellow cavern full of dust Gabriel had never been the keenest on being inside of. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon”

He smelled the demon before he saw him saunter around a corner, inspecting a wine bottle. “Hey, angel, when did you get— What the Heaven are you doing here, Archangel?”

The demon was next to Aziraphale in an instant, his open hand clutching the doorframe, the other behind the Angel. His yellow slits were blown wide.

He sneered, “I didn’t come here to talk to you— “

“Well then, best get to leaving then.”

He ignored him, and focused his attention on Aziraphale, “You’ve got him trained so well.”

His face pinched, a look of disgust crossed his face. “Trained?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Now, if we can get on with it, all I have is one question."

"Very well," Aziraphale patted his clothes.

"No, Aziraphale, this psycho has been tailing us for weeks, you don’t owe him anything!"

A bout of annoyance flared inside of him. "See?" He motioned towards him, "this is why I don't consort with demons."

The demon sniffed the air. "Yeah. Sure smells like you don't."

"Crowley that's quite enough, if he’s here for a question it's best to answer it and move on." The demon honest to God pouted.

Gabriel sneered at him.

"But not if you're going to be rude as well, Gabriel. What is it you need?"

"How did this," he motioned vaguely between the two of them, "Happen?"

"I don't believe that's any of your business."

"If you cooperate, I'll," he heaves a sigh and shook his head, "personally insure Heaven and Hell leave you both alone."

Aziraphale bit his lip and glanced at his disgusting demon boyfriend, who, after a moment sighed and said, "Sure, go for it. Whatever."

"Oh, well that's quite a long story. Unless you'd like it abridged? Or just the bit about Armageddon?"

His insides coiled, but this was for the best.

"The beginning."

He hummed, "Well, that starts at The Beginning, so you may want to come inside."

Several hours later, he left with a bit of bike in his throat and a bottle of wine from the early 19th century, apparently, an important part of the process was alcohol. "Extraordinary amount of alcohol."

Beelzebub laughed. "I was wondering where you got that."

"So you see, no temptation."

"Mm," they pressed themselves into his side, skin warm and flush. "Should fix that. Tempt you to some breakfast around the corner? Need to pay my old subordinate a visit."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Someone's got to let him know that wine tasted like shit."

He snorted and agreed. It was on okay breakfast, and miraculously enough their old employees were indeed there, and weren't the happiest to see them, but, as with most things, a bit of misery thrown in that wasn't exactly his, made things a bit more fun.

#good omens #ineffable bureaucracy #GoodOmensSecretSanta

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side-effect-of-the-meds · 5 years ago

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Okay!!! Desperate for twinyards :D!!! Will Aaron ever found out that erin takes care of him when he is drunk? And will he find out that Aaron cares for him and will there ever be a point where the things he said when he is drunk would be said when be isnt? Gosh im such trash for your fem!andreil

I’m so sorry these asks keep taking so long! They take me thirty years to get to and then they turn out really bad. One day I’ll start creating quality content. Until then, have this.

In honor of Spoopy Month, it’s Halloween themed!!!!! (I borrowed a big chunk of it from my canon compliant fic Love of my Life but I just really like that part of the story. Sorry :))

“I never thought Crowley and Aziraphale would ever return to Eden,” Ronnie said as the Monsters made their way to the bar. Ania smiled. Erin scowled. “Aw don’t scowl at me like that, Angel.” Ronnie barely dodged the heels Erin chucked at her. With a broad smile, Ronnie turned her attention to Aaron. “I’m sorely disappointed to see that you’re not the Archangel Micheal.” Aaron glared at her but his annoyance didn’t last.

Aaron could never stay mad at Ronnie for long. For the longest time, Ronnie had been the only ray of sunshine in Aaron’s dreary life. The middle child and only daughter of a rich widower, Ronnie was free to do as she pleased while her father groomed her brothers to inherit his fortune. Having four brothers would be more than enough for most people but Ronnie hadn’t hesitated to adopt Aaron into her little band of miscreants. In the years before Erin’s arrival, it was Ronnie (and at times, her brothers) that had been looking out for Aaron. She was just as much his sister as Erin was. That was what made their relationship so hard for him to wrap his head around. He’d given up trying to make sense of how they could have gone behind his back like that long ago but on nights out at Eden’s he couldn't help but feel a little betrayed.

“Earth to Mikey,” Ronnie said, waving a hand in front of his face. “Come on, we’re toasting you’re little cheerleader. To Katelyn,” Ronnie cried as she raised her own shot. “For breathing -or maybe blowing- some life into Aaron!” Aaron shrieked at the crude joke as his family laughed, downing their shots. Aaron’s brain short-circuited at the sight of Erin downing her shot to the toast. She just wants to drink, Aaron told himself as he regained control of his thoughts. Curling himself into his shoulders, he stood apart as Ronnie caught up with the others.

“Aaron,” Josten said as she nudged his foot with her boot. “Erin said to grab a table.” Aaron nodded and headed off to search for one. Despite the pounding music, he heard Josten following him. He risked a backward glance only to find her watching him. He growled but Josten’s face remained blank. She’s been spending too much time with Eri, he thought as he went back to shouldering his way through the crowd. Finally, he found a table in the back of the club with just enough chairs for them. Without hesitating, he sank into one only to find it covered in something sticky and white.

“Oh Hell no,” he screamed as he leaped up. Josten peered over at his seat before doubling over in a fit of laughter. “Fuck off, Josten.” He snatched the paper towels she offered him out of her hands and did his best to clean himself off before kicking over the chair.

“I see temper tantrums run in the family,” Josten remarked. Aaron looked over at her. She was staring out across the dancefloor, a soft smile on her face. Following her gaze, he spotted Erin flickering in and out of view from where she still stood at the bar. A pang shot through his chest. Ania looked at Erin the same way Erik looked at Nicky- the same way Katelyn looked at him.

“Damn you, Josten,” he said, more to himself than her.

“I’m already damned,” she replied anyway. “I’m damned to spend the rest of eternity in love with your sister but if that isn’t damnation at its best, I don’t know what is.”

The world tilted beneath Aaron’s feet. Love. Ania had said she loved his sister. His Erin. His Little Doe. Tears spilled from Aaron’s eyes. “If you hurt her…” he said, his voice breaking before trailing off entirely as he gulped for air.

“She’ll kill me herself,” Ania answered easily. She reached a hand out and carefully wiped a tear from his face. “Don’t cry. Eri’ll skin me alive if you do.”

“Does she even care?” he asked. Aaron tried to smile as he asked it but he knew it came out as more of a grimace than a smile. A wave of sadness crashed down over him at the sound of his own words.

"Of course she cares, you cracked walnut," Josten snapped. As the strobing lights passed over her countenance Aaron could see the fury on her face. "I've only known her a year. You've known her for three? Four? How the hell can you not-" Josten stopped short. "It's because you're always drunk," she said quietly.

"No. That's Kevin," Aaron said.

"Whenever we're here. Whenever we go home, you're too drunk to remember."

"Remember what?"

Josten worried her lower lip, weighing her words "Don't drink tonight." She clamped a hand over his mouth before he could protest. "Trust me. You'll see."

"Trust a liar?"

"I wouldn't lie about Erin." It sickened Aaron to know she was telling the truth. For the remainder of the night, to Kevin's delight, Aaron discreetly pawned his drinks off to him. Where Erin excelled at faking the drug-induced mania she’d lived with for the last two years, Aaron excelled at faking a drunken stupor. Or at least, he usually did. Keeping up the act was much harder than Aaron anticipated. He was far too preoccupied keeping an eye on his sister to fully concentrate. A few rounds in, he gave up watching her in favor of retreating to the dance floor. At least there, he wouldn’t be under her constant scrutiny.

He was wrong. Each time the crowd parted enough for him to have a clear view of the ledge where he’d left them, he found Erin’s eyes trained on him. No matter where he went or what he did, she was watching him. Beads of sweat formed along his forehead. Had she seen through his ruse? Did she know he was faking?

There was nothing Aaron could do now but pray. He passed the remainder of the night on the floor with Nicky. Around 11:50, Ronnie called out for the final round. Josten was by Aaron’s side in an instant.

“Throw your legs onto Nicky’s lap in the car. And talk to Kevin about something- anything. Make him laugh.” Aaron broke his facade to shoot a confused look at her. “Just do it,” Josten pleaded. Aaron ground his teeth together as he considered his options. After a moment he gave her a sharp nod and made his way over to the counter with her to collect the final round.

In the car ride home, Aaron did as he was told. He threw his legs over Nicky’s and leaned heavily against Kevin. Kevin wrapped an arm around Aaron, who tensed immediately. Kevin Day was not known for his compassion nor for his affection. Catching the warning look Josten shot him as she buckled her seatbelt, he forced himself to relax. For once in his life, Kevin wasn’t talking about Exy. Instead, he was giving a lecture on the unabridged history of the LGBT community. Aaron tentatively slid his own commentary into the lesson. To his relief, both Kevin and Nicky laughed. He choked on the soda he was drinking when he saw the upward curl of Erin’s lips in the dashboard mirror.

Nicky got out of the car first as it rolled to a stop on the drive. He toppled face-first into the grass and laughter burst out of Aaron. He felt something pressing at his back and before he knew it, he toppled out of the car too.

“You drunk bastard,” Erin said. Aaron’s heart stopped as he rolled onto his back. Erin was standing over him, a brilliant grin plastered to her face. “That’s what you get for drinking so much” She bent down and scooped him up in an easy, obviously practiced, motion. Aaron was too shocked to say a word.

Aaron was suddenly thirteen again. He was sitting curled up on his mother’s bed with the handset pressed to his ear. A woman's voice drifted through it. She was talking about a girl named Erin. The woman was gushing about how happy she was to have found Erin’s birth mother, and her brother too. Brother, Aaron thought. He felt his heart racing in his ribcage. I’m- I’m a brother! A twin brother! Aaron had been over the moon at the very thought of meeting his sister.

The voice of his mother sent him crashing back down to earth. She hissed at the woman to keep her fat mouth shut. She didn't want to know anything about Erin. She wanted nothing to do with her and she certainly did not want Aaron seeing her again either. She slammed the phone down so hard that Aaron jerked the phone away from his face. Silently, returned the phone to its cradle and crawled back to his own room. Drawing his legs in, he tried to hold in his grief. Hot tears streaked down his face as his shoulders shook. Anger coursed through his veins. Clenching his jaw, he unfurled himself and stalked into the kitchen. He grabbed a notebook and pen from the kitchen and ran out of the house. He raced down the block to the park. Seated at one of the picnic tables, his pen flew across the page. He wasn't quite sure what he'd written, only that he had to send it before his mother ever found out. He stopped by the fountain on his way out of the park. He would need money to send the letter. With a grimace, he peeled his shoes and socks off. Wading through the fountain, he collected every penny, nickel, and dime he could find. This isn't stealing, he told himself. They threw their money in here. Even if it is, it doesn't matter. This is for my sister. This is for Erin.

Every day for the next two weeks, Aaron checked the mail in the hopes of finding a response to his own letter. When it came, Aaron nearly had a heart attack on the spot. He sat down on the steps in front of the house. With shaking fingers, he carefully opened the letter. A brilliant smile plastered itself across his face when he saw the chicken scratch that filled the page. It looked just like his own handwriting. Unfortunately, his smile had been quick to fade. Erin had only written back to tell Aaron that she didn’t want him around. She was more than happy to remain with Cassidy and her new brother, Drake. Aaron grabbed desperately at his chest. It felt as though some hand had forced its way into his ribcage and ripped his heart out. New brother, Drake. Tears fell onto the page. Ink ran, blurring the words into one another. Aaron ripped up the remnants of the letter up and hurled them in the bin. He collapsed on the kitchen floor, sobbing. Great, he thought. Fucking great. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need her. I don’t need anyone. I hope I never meet Erin or her new brother Drake.

But Aaron had. He had been sat down across from her in a juvenile detention facility, three feet away from her, separated by a four-inch pane of bulletproof glass. Looking at Erin was like looking through a funhouse mirror, it was him but something wasn’t quite right. Sure, Erin’s hair was longer than his, ending harshly at the edges of her jaw and she had a few more moles than he did but that wasn’t it. Maybe it was the seemingly permanent downwards tug of her lips. Maybe it was the bold set of her shoulders that exuded a confidence Aaron could only dream of.

Maybe it was her eyes. They were the same brown as his but where his were full of pain and fear, hers were empty. Two empty pits stared back at him from across the table. The glass may have been designed to protect him from Erin’s fists but it did nothing to save him from her eyes. So empty. So soulless. Aaron had once heard that there had been a time when people had refused to take photos for fear that they stole the souls of the photographed. At the time, Aaron had scoffed at the people for being so stupid. Now, Aaron understood. Sitting before his sister, he feared that if he stared too long into her eyes, she might steal his to replace the one she lacked. They were so cold. So empty. So loveless. On the plane back from Cali, Aaron closed his eyes only to find his sister engraved on the back of his lids.

Back in Columbia, Aaron stood before Nicky’s full-length mirror. He’d tugged a skull cap down over his head. His bangs poked out from beneath, matching Erin’s to a T. He blinked and it really was Erin staring back at him in the mirror. Reaching a hand out, he traced a finger down her cheek. Her cold eyes stared back at him and realized why he couldn’t look directly at them. They were their mother’s eyes. When Tilda Minyard wasn’t drunk or high, she was empty.

There wasn’t very much Aaron knew about his father other than the fact that his mother had eloped with him once she’d learned of her pregnancy. Tilda was three and a half months pregnant when Micheal Minyard died in a car crash. Depression coaxed Tilda back into old habits that Micheal had helped her break. She began drinking and chain-smoking despite the twins she bore within her. Both twins were born with fetal alcohol syndrome, manifesting in their stunted growth, ADHD, and Aaron’s dyslexia. Erin had developed a nicotine addiction as well. It wasn’t until after Aaron had found out about his twin that Tilda had told him this.

“I didn’t even want you,” Tilda mused as she took another swig from her whiskey bottle. “I wanted Erin but your names sound so similar that the shitty ass nurse fucked up and gave me the wrong one. You never stood a chance with me,” she said. “I was never going to love you.” Tilda swung the bottle at the side of Aaron’s head. It connected with his skull and rattled his brain but it wasn’t enough to dislodge the words from it.

Aaron pressed his forehead up to the mirror. Up to Erin’s forehead.

“Do you know why Mom doesn’t love us?” he whispered. “It’s because no one loved her. No one but Dad but he’s long gone. It’s his fault, you know? Luther’s, I mean. Mom is the way she is because her own brother didn’t love her enough. He didn’t love her enough to let her stay once she got pregnant. He didn’t love her enough to help her take care of us. He didn’t love her enough to protect you.” Tears slid down Aaron’s face as his grip on the mirror’s frame tightened. “Luther might not have loved his sister, but I’ll love you til the day I die.” Looking in the mirror, Aaron saw himself again but it wasn’t the same Aaron he’d grown accustomed to seeing. This one had fire. This one had fight. This one would protect his sister, no matter the cost. This one was going to save his sister from devolving into the monster their mother had become.

That Aaron failed. Erin was just as cold and empty as their mother had been. That Aaron failed. Erin was forced to face Drake all on her own. Every night, he lay awake wondering what horrors his sister faced behind the pristine white walls of Easthaven. No amount of kisses and cuddles from Katelyn were enough to bury the weight of Aaron’s broken promise. Guilt and regret intertwined, winding around Aaron and choking the life out of him. He broke down constantly, reduced to a sobbing mess by the weight of his woes.

Aaron loved his sister more than life itself. Erin was indifferent to him. Upon her return from Evermore, she hadn’t even spared him a passing glance. Instead, she’d fixated upon the child Josten had brought home. Aaron had never expected his sister to fawn over him. It wasn’t in her nature. Or so he had thought. It was because of this that Aaron couldn’t help the spike of jealousy that shot through him as he watched his sister’s shoulders soften when she held the baby. He could barely contain the scowl he felt tugging at his lips as Erin brushed her lips against the backs of Cleo’s hands.

Cradling Cleo close he asked her, “What makes you so special? I know why Erin lets Ania have what she wants but what about you? You’re just a baby. I’m her brother. Am I not good enough for her?” Tears splashed down onto Cleo’s face and he hurried to wipe them off of her. As he did, he felt Cleo’s tiny hand wrap around his little finger. It was just barely big enough to encircle the single finger. “Oh,” he said. “That’s why.” He sat down on the couch and lay Cleo in his lap. She looked up at him curiously before her face split into a wide grin. “No wonder Mom wanted a daughter.” Cleo babbled at him and he chuckled softly. “You’re right. Maybe Luther was jealous too. I won’t be like him,” he swore again. “I’m not going to abandon Erin. Or you either.”

Aaron loved his sister more than life itself. If Josten made her happy, then so be it. If Cleo was the one she showered with love, then fine. But a small part of him wasn’t fine. Erin didn’t love him. His sister, his own flesh and blood, didn’t love him. It left a hole in his heart, one that even Katelyn couldn’t fill. Aaron hadn’t known what he’d have to give up to Katelyn but what he did was far worse than anything he could have imagined. There weren’t enough words in any language to express the anguish that washed over Aaron when Erin had picked Ania over him. He’d used Josten as bait for Erin to break her promise but a small part of him had wanted her to refuse. He’d wanted Erin to pick him over her. He’d wanted Erin to do the unthinkable and tell him that she loved him more than she wanted Ania. He’d wanted her to wrap her arms around him and hold him close.

He wanted her to hold him the way she held him now as she carried him to the front door. Josten was already unlocking the door. She turned at the sound of Erin’s footsteps. A bright smile of her own burst out across her face.

“Shut up, Ania,” Erin swore.

“Haven’t said a thing,” Josten replied. She pushed open the door and let Erin pass. “Erin?” she asked as she followed them into the house. “Why do you only do these things when Aaron’s drunk?” To anyone else, it may have seemed like an innocent question. To Erin though? Getting anything from her was like pulling teeth. For half a second, Aaron didn’t expect her to answer. Then he remembered that it was Josten asking not him. A pang of bitterness pierced his heart as he felt his sister’s chest swell at the intake of a breath.

“Because he’s nice to me,” she said. Aaron’s head jerked up but Erin wasn’t paying attention. She’d stopped walking. Her eyes were trained on a spot on the wall. “After I killed Tilda, he stopped talking to me entirely. Aaron loved Tilda, even if she didn’t deserve to be loved, and I took her away. I hate when you say you’re fine because that’s what I told myself whenever he ignored me. I told myself that I didn’t care. I did. Aaron’s favorite color is navy blue. Half of my closet is navy blue. Aaron’s favorite song is Young Blood. It’s on every one of my cassette tapes in the car. I hate cool ranch chips but I buy three bags every time I go to the store because Aaron loves them. Tilda didn’t deserve Aaron’s love but he loved her anyway. I don’t deserve Aaron’s love either. I-” A shaky breath rattled through Erin. “I just wanted him to love me too.”

“I do,” Aaron blurted out. Erin snapped out of her trance at the sound of his voice.

“You’re not drunk,” she said. Her voice was dangerously quiet. Her eyes were dark and stony but this time Aaron didn’t look away. The longer he stared, the more apparent it was to him that they weren’t empty. Staring into them, he saw something flickering deep down inside.

The truth about cameras is that they don’t steal your soul. They show you yours. No matter how perfect a picture may seem to others when a person looked too hard at their own, they saw what lurked beneath. It wasn’t that Erin had their mother’s eyes. It was that she had his. When Aaron looked too hard at his sister’s eyes, he saw too much of himself. He saw the sad, empty creature he’d become. He saw the defeated, lonely creature he still was. Most people hailed Aaron as ‘the normal twin’, the Dr. Jekyll to her Mr. Hyde. No one realized how wrong they were.

Erin was a fatalist at heart. To her, everything, every single thing, was predetermined. If the world believed her to be a monster, then that was what she’d be. She played her part and lived exactly the way people thought she would. It was all an act though. Behind every one of Erin’s monstrous acts, was a lonely little girl trying her hardest not to get left behind again.

Unlike his sister, Aaron didn’t believe in fate. Every man made his own way in life, no matter the circumstances he faced to make it there. If that was true, then didn’t that make Aaron responsible for all the things that he’d done? Growing up, Aaron had done many things he wasn’t proud of. It didn’t matter who suffered so long as it wasn’t Aaron. If there was no fate, then wasn’t Aaron responsible for all the people he’d hurt? It wasn’t Erin who was a monster. It was him. When Aaron looked too hard at his sister’s eyes, he was forced to face the monster he had become and it scared him.

Aaron felt the support go out from under him and he hit the floor, hard. Erin spun on her heel and shoved past Josten. Neither of them moved until they heard the door to her bedroom slam shut.

“I told you so,” Josten whispered. There were tears shining in her eyes. “It’s over, isn’t it?” she asked herself.

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked.

“I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone about this and now… she’ll never trust me again.” Her voice broke.

“Ania-”

“Don’t, Aaron.” She turned on her heel and marched out of the house, nearly knocking over Kevin who was dragging Nicky in.

“What the hell have you done to her?” Kevin snarled. Just the sight of a teary-eyed Josten was enough to sober him up. He abandoned Nicky and closed the space between himself and Aaron in the blink of an eye. Balling his fist in Aaron’s shirt, he shoved him against the wall. “I’m not asking again, Aaron.” This is what a brother should be, Aaron thought.

When Ania first arrived at Palmetto a year ago, she and Kevin were always at odds. No matter what she did, it was never enough for him. But that was because he knew she could be better. Nicky had made the mistake of mocking her once and Kevin and slammed him against the wall just as he held Aaron now. Erin intervened quickly, breaking them apart with a poisonous smile and a flash of steel but one thing remained: Kevin Day, a man afraid of his own shadow, hadn’t hesitated to square up the second someone dissed Ania. And that was before he’d found out who she really was.

Kevin and Ania weren’t bound by blood the way the twins were. They’d chosen each other. Ania had chosen to follow Kevin out to Palmetto and Kevin had chosen to have her back. But hadn’t the twins done the same thing? Erin chose to move to Columbia and Aaron had chosen to protect her. Why had they failed where Kevin and Ania had succeeded? The two of them were just as broken as the twins. In fact, they were worse. Ania had lived her life in the shadows, jumping ship the second anyone started to get too close. Kevin had lived his life in the limelight, denied anything even resembling a friend.

Even without knowing her, Kevin had looked upon the wretched creature that had been Ania Josten and wanted to offer her a future. He had wanted to offer her something to live for. Kevin would never be able to love Ania the way she needed to be but he wanted to give her the chance at a life where she could find someone who could.

And he did. Kevin brought Ania to Palmetto and gave her a reason to keep going. He brought her to Erin, someone who could care for her the way she needed to be cared for. But what had Aaron done for his sister? He’d pushed her away the second things got hard. He’d denied her of the love he’d promised himself he’d give. He’d made her lonely.

“How?” he croaked. “How do you do it?” Kevin frowned and his grip loosened.

“How what?” he asked.

“How do you always know what Ania needs?” Aaron had seen the way Ania ran to Kevin the second things fell apart. Too many times, he’d come back to the dorms to find her breaking down in Kevin’s arms. Each time he’d watched Kevin swaddle her shaking form in blankets and offer her things: a cassette player with only one tape, a bowl of vanilla ice cream drowning in chocolate syrup, his laptop with an exy game already loaded.

During Erin’s time at Easthaven, Aaron had found himself craving the smell of cigarette smoke. He wasn’t a smoker but the smell reminded him of Erin. One night, he finally caved and dragged himself to the corner store. He returned with a pack of cigarettes and another pint of strawberry ice cream. Every time Aaron passed by the corner store, he picked one up. He never ate a single one, though. Opening the fridge door, he realized there wasn’t any space left. Every inch of his fridge was filled with pints of strawberry ice cream.

It should be empty. The fridge should be empty. His breath came in short, ragged gasps. Aaron didn’t know when the tears started or how long he’d stayed knelt in front of the open fridge, only that Ania kicked it closed before sitting down on top of it.

“There isn’t enough strawberry ice cream in the world to fix her,” she said. She handed him a tissue box and waited for him to blow his nose.

“Then what will?’ he asked.

“That’s for you to figure out,” Ania said before unplugging the fridge. That was what Kevin said before he let go of Aaron entirely. With that, he left Aaron alone in the kitchen so he could lug Nicky up to his own room.

Aaron sat heavily in one of the dining room chairs, picking at the table mats. It was early the next morning when he finally decided what to do. Actually, he didn’t decide. He just kind of stood up and started for the stairs. He didn’t even remember taking a single step. One moment he was at the kitchen table, the next he was standing in front of Erin’s door. He reached a hand out, tracing the letters on the door. The memory hit Aaron like a train.

It had been a week after Erin had arrived in Columbia. Aaron’s name was already on the door and he had wanted to add hers to it too. Ever since he’d been old enough, Aaron had been working part-time just to keep himself and Tilda fed. In the months before Erin was set to come home, he’d picked up extra shifts to scrounge up the money he needed. With it, it went to the crafts store in the rich part of town. He picked out the four letters he needed and bought the highest quality paints he could find. On Friday, after practice, he’d broken into their mother’s liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels. Downing a swig, he found the courage to present his haul to Erin. It took some coaxing but he managed to convince her to sit on the floor with him on a pile of newspapers. Together the two of them painted the wooden letters black. Once they were dry, Aaron watched as his sister painted constellations onto them.

“What’s that one?” he asked.

“Gemini,” she replied.

“Astrology,” Aaron said as he crinkled his nose in disgust. Erin glanced at him, her lips just barely curling up.

“Have you ever heard the story of Pollux and Castor?” she asked.

“No,” he replied.

“They were two brothers, twins, from Greek Mythology. They did everything together,” Erin said softly. “The two of them couldn’t live without each other. So, when Castor lay dying, Pollux called out to his father for help. Zeus saw his son’s pain and offered him a way to save his brother. Zeus offered Pollux the ability to share his immortality with his brother. Doing so would mean that neither of them could live normal lives again. They would no longer live here on Earth and they’d only have each other as company. Pollux agreed immediately. To him, his brother was more important than anything else in the world. So, Zeus turned the brothers into stars. Together, the two of them live side by side in the sky.”

“Wouldn’t you get lonely if you had only one person to talk to?” Aaron asked.

“Not if it was you,” Erin replied. With that, she picked up the letters and moved them to the desk beneath the window. The two of them climbed into their respective beds and fell asleep.

Aaron took a deep breath and knocked softly at his sister’s door. He stood there, his heart hammering in his chest. What if she didn’t answer? Aaron took a deep breath. He’d just try again later. Ania was right. What they’d done tonight had betrayed a great deal of Erin’s trust in them. If she didn’t answer, it was because he’d hurt her, just like he always did when he was sober. Aaron leaned his forehead against the door. “I’m sorry, Eri,” he whispered. Just then the door opened and Aaron toppled forward again. Erin neatly sidestepped his falling form but caught him with an outstretched arm. “Eri-” he began. He stopped short, realizing he didn’t know what to say.

Erin gave up waiting for him. She righted him and stepped back. Aaron took it as an invitation and entered her room. Aaron had never been inside his sister’s room. In the pale glow of the first rays of sunlight, he saw the dead roses suspended from her ceiling. A thousand photos covered the surface of the mirror. Upon closer inspection, he found that they were pictures of the Monsters. There was one of Nicky smiling brighter than the sun as Erik pressed a kiss to his cheek. There was one of Aaron shoving Matt, the two of them smiling. There was one of Wymack with his head resting on Abby’s shoulder. There was one of Bee dressed up as a bumblebee. There were a lot of photos of Ania. One of them had been kissed with black lipstick. Erin was the only Fox that owned black lipstick. As Aaron inspected them he was aware of Erin at his back.

“There aren’t any with us in it,” he said as he dragged his fingers over them.

“Yes, there is.” Erin wrapped her hand around his wrist and guided it to one all the way in the bottom corner. Its sides were crinkled from being taken out and replaced too many times. There was a fold down the center from when it was been folded in half, probably placed between the folds of a book.

It was a photo featuring a pair of babies. Both of them had wispy blonde hair, most of which had been tucked beneath a little beanie. They were dressed in matching white onesies patterned with little sharks. They were two perfect, identical little babies. Erin laced her fingers through Aaron’s and he suddenly saw it. The two babies were holding hands too. Eyes closed, unable to even see one another, they had taken hold of each other’s hands. Babies didn’t have much strength, but the two of them were clinging to one another like their lives depended on it.

“Eri-” he croaked.

“Yes or no?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. Erin turned him to face her. She wrapped an arm around him and drew him close. Tentatively, he wrapped his own arms around her. “Erin?” he asked softly. She pulled back just enough to look at him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t better.”

“You were the best,” she said. “You still are.” For once, Erin’s eyes weren’t empty or angry. Instead, they were hard. Resolute. If anyone else had said it, Aaron wouldn’t have believed it. Erin wasn’t a liar. Every word she said, she meant.

“I can be better,” he offered. He watched as she worked her jaw, searching for what to say.

“I think I can be, too,” she said. Time seemed to stop. Aaron watched as the smallest of smiles tinged his sister’s lips. The rays of the rising sun filtered through Erin’s thick curtains, illuminating the fading freckles that danced across her face, forming constellations of their own. It turned her pale hair, bound in a messy bun atop her head, into a halo of pure gold. Erin might have been dressed as an angel last night, but she looked more like one now than she had then.

#just a pipe dream #fem!andreil asks #erin minyard #ania josten #aaron minyard hc #aaron micheal minyard #aaron minyard #wholesome twinyards #fem!andreil #the monsters #kevin day #the foxhole court au #the foxhole court #all for the game au #all for the game #all for the gay

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hellfireandbookshops · 5 years ago

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This blog has crossed 1k followers, I am so overwhelmed! Thank you all so much!

As a way of celebrating I have decided to break my 4-year hiatus on publishing fanfiction! I’ve posted chapter one of my short stories/drabble collection which you can read on AO3 here. A preview is available below the cut!

My plan is to update as often as I can with short stories and drabbles exploring the lives of the ineffable husbands after the apocalypse. All the drabbles will exist in the same universe and be in chronological order. So far there are 30 chapters planned, and I am open to prompting too!

Thank you guys so much for sticking around for my descent into Good Omens obsession and keeping me creating content, I appreciate and love you all <3

~O~

You can stay at my place if you like.

Boarding the bus to Oxford (the bus that would drive to London anyway) was a silent affair. Crowley got on first, a brief gesture with his left hand ensuring that they would make it home tonight. Home being the demons residence, of course, no matter that Aziraphale hadn’t actually agreed to go there yet. If he was certain of anything right now it was that the angel shouldn’t be exposed to the ruin of his bookshop. Not tonight.

It had been horrific enough for Crowley. The aged rafters had crumbled to ash, the scent of burning paper surrounded the demon and choked in his lungs. All that uncomfortable heat licking at his skin, a dangerous reminder that whatever once stood there was now nothing more than dust in the wind. Fuel for a vicious flame. He’d called for Aziraphale but he had known the second he parked outside the angel was gone.

For the last six thousand years, Aziraphale has always been on his mental radar. An energy output ever-present in the back of his mind no matter where he went; it was how he managed to follow him across the globe al these years. It burned in him like the north star; leading him home.

There was nothing amidst the fire, though. Just an absence the likes of which he hadn’t felt since rising through the earth in the garden of Eden. An indicator that his best friend wasn’t in this realm anymore; discorporated or destroyed completely, he had no way of being certain. Oh, he’d hoped it was the former. That way he could just pop back down again with another body, surely. But who was to say the archangels hadn’t intervened and put a stop to whatever relationship they had? Crowley had been openly pleading with him in the street just an hour beforehand and hellfire would do a slap up job of eradicating an angel and his shop.

Crowley wasn’t entirely certain even he’d be able to stomach looking at the carcass of his friend’s home right now, not after grief like that.

So they’d go to the flat.

He took the seat beside the window, staring out at the quaint little village lit up in the night. It looked sickeningly nice. The kind of thing you’d put on a postcard to your nan. To think the world almost ended here today, in picturesque rural England. Oh the hidden dangers of a beautiful thing, much like an angel brandishing a flaming sword he supposed.

So busy waxing poetry about some scenery, and wasn’t that embarrassing for a being from hell, he hadn’t noticed the angel slide comfortably into the seat next to him. It was a little surprising, to say the least. Throughout the millennia, sitting together involved a fair amount of space between them. Crowley used to joke about leaving room for the holy ghost, but close quarters had simply never been worth the risk to them. Being caught talking was one thing, being caught cuddled together like illicit lovers was something else entirely. So park benches found the demon sprawled on one side and Aziraphale propped stiffly on the other. Any time they met at alternative Rendezvous point number 2; the number nineteen bus, Crowley would sit in the always conveniently absent seats directly behind his friend. Inconspicuous may not be their middle name, but at least they made something of an effort.

Pressed side by side with their shoulders brushing was different.

Though if either of them were being perfectly honest; everything was different now. Reality as they knew it was rewritten; or at least… He thought. Even Crowley couldn't be entirely certain what had happened on that airfield today with little Adam Young.

The bus pulls away and Crowley resolves to leave that train of thought behind. It’s going to take more than their journey’s length home to properly wrap their heads around it. Instead, he takes a large mouthful from their open bottle and wordlessly offers it to his companion.

“I don’t think we should really drink here.” The angel uttered in hushed tones, ever wary of the opinions of onlookers. Despite his protests, though, he does take the bottle into his own hand.

There was barely any passengers at this hour, Crowley knew, having cast a glance around the vehicle as soon as he’d boarded. A young woman near the front, headphones firmly in place and eyes drooping shut. A couple of seats behind them, there sat two young men both absorbed with their phones, uncaring of the world around them. Finally, at the back, a rather run down looking businessman skimming a broadsheet newspaper. Unlikely any of them would give the two eccentric gentlemen at the front a second glance. “I don’t think anyone cares, angel.”

Regardless, Aziraphale insisted, “I do.”

He was clinging to the bottle like an infant might cling to a safety blanket, but he was making no move to actually drink from it. The demon sighed deeply. “Suit yourself.”

Neither of them spoke for some time following that. Many people might assume that being friends for roughly six thousand years would leave very little to talk about, these people would be wrong. Crowley had long since mastered reading Aziraphale like one of his books, and he wouldn’t be dim enough to imagine the angel couldn’t do the same. They understood each other almost frighteningly well. Thus, the silence itself was practically a conversation.

The press of Aziraphale’s shoulder against his own was an act of showing comfort as much as it was the other seeking it for himself. Actual physical contact between them, at least in Crowley's opinion, was always a signifier of something consequential. Whether that be a handshake declaring an arrangement, or the brush of their fingers when they exchanged items (an incident involving Nazi spies and a church sprang to mind). This felt like it was much the same.

Rather than just innocently brushing, Aziraphale was gradually letting his weight come to rest against the demons side; and though he was loathed to admit it, Crowley was doing the same. Very soon they’d be propping each other up in a display of mutual reassurance. It enveloped him in something rather soothing.

Flashes of love, he remembered Aziraphale describing once on the drive back from Tadfield.

At the time Crowley had brushed him off, declared the notion ridiculous. That was more because of his irritation at having found no leads than it was the lack of understanding. He was not a being of love, but he certainly knew what it felt like. That energy on his radar was what it felt like. Like sinking into a hot bath. The waves of it washing over him in a cascade of warmth, circling his bones and settling in the pit of his stomach. Filling him up until he felt like he was glowing with it. That love he understood; he’d been feeling it since Eden, and it was only identifiable to him as Aziraphale.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?”

It took an embarrassingly long moment for Crowley to bring himself out of his thought process and register the angel's words. Luckily for him, staring off into the distance in broody silence was something of a signature behaviour, and as such raised no query from the other when it took several seconds of just staring at him to form a response.

“That depends entirely on what you’re referring to. I said a lot of things.” Was what he settled on.

Amused but unwilling to admit as such, Aziraphale narrowed his eyes just briefly; a fleeting smile gracing his features before it was gone again. “You said I could stay with you tonight.”

Crowley continued to stare, dumbfounded. “Of course I meant it, why wouldn’t I mean it?”

The angel had no particular response to that; a minute shake of his head that Crowley would have missed had he blinked, and choosing to forgo his earlier shame by bringing the bottle they’d been sharing to his mouth. There was a hefty swallow of alcohol.

Worst of all his angel’s usual warmth is buzzing beside him; it almost makes the demon uncomfortable to sit next to. The only reasonable comparison is a live wire. It’s something volatile and dangerous like it wasn’t moments ago, as if the angel was trying to forcibly keep something under control and failing.

Crowley hadn’t the faintest clue how to interpret this.

“Angel, I meant it,” Seemed a good place to start as any. It worked in some small way; Aziraphale turned his head enough to meet his gaze, those impossibly wide eyes making an appearance as he hung on Crowley’s every word. Damn those eyes. “I’m not going to leave you out on your ear, am I?”

Crowley wasn’t going to leave him at all. That much should be painfully evident if the two failed attempts at abandoning earth were anything to go by. Going anywhere without the angel just wasn’t an option for him anymore. Probably hasn’t been for about a thousand years.

Yet Aziraphale still looked so lost. He’d always had such an expressive face; he could tell more stories than his bookshop could hold with the things that face could do. Currently, his eyes were glistening, brow softly furrowed, cheeks dusted pink, lips parted on words that aren't likely to be spoken. Crowley knows that face will be the end of him one day.

“I’ve got a few bottles of 2009 Essence Bordeaux that I’ve been saving for a special occasion,” He offers, gently. “Averting the end of the world seems appropriate, don’t you think.”

The atmosphere around them begins to feel less dangerously electric and more like a mildly concerning fizzle.

“You’ve never offered that before.” The angel says suspiciously.

“I’ve been ageing it.” One shoulder lifts a little in a half shrug. “I’m sure a decade will suffice.”

“You said that about the Roussanne,” The demon groaned and turned his gaze away at the stark reminder of that process gone wrong. “and a decade was in fact far too long.”

“You still drank it.”

“It would have been a shame to waste it, really.” The sigh Aziraphale gives is fonder than he likely intended it to be.

They share a smirk and it feels like something all their own, secretive and special. On Crowley’s mental radar, everything settles back to normal with a wash of warm water over his very being. Whatever was troubling his angel seemed to be on the back burner for now.

“Thank you, Crowley.”

It’s almost completely inaudible. The demon turns his head to catch it and instead finds himself eye to eye with his best friend. The way he’s staring at him with such wonder makes Crowley glad his heart is entirely decoration; otherwise, it would be thumping in his chest like a bass drum. The gratitude clearly wasn’t just about tonight, he could understand that much, it was all-encompassing gratitude.

Not just thank you for letting me stay the night, but rather, thank you for staying by my side all this time.

He wanted to reply that there wasn’t anywhere in any universe he’d rather be, but admitting such things out loud weren’t becoming of a demon. Nor were they becoming of Crowley, honestly, who still flinched when he was called nice. So the only appropriate response seemed to be to demonstrate this point non-verbally. Specifically by slouching in his seat and leaning his weight against his friends side a little more, a slow grin adorning his features.

Aziraphale huffed a delicate laugh and rolled his eyes at the behaviour, likely not expecting a response any other way. The angel didn’t stop there, however, those perfectly manicured fingers reaching across to brush against the back of the hand lain in Crowley’s lap. The confident nature of the action was lost about halfway through, Aziraphale looking as if his limbs had acted of their own accord rather than his instruction and he was unsure where to go from here. Between them, the temperature starts to feel a little humid.

Crowley, not one for half measures, decided to aid his friend in his time of need. He flipped his hand over and entwined their fingers without a second thought.

There was something to be said about his role in this relationship, if it had an official title it would likely be something along the lines of ‘Here to Finish What Aziraphale Starts’. His job description was to pull the other out of near-death situations at the last second, give him a gentle push into beneficial decisions; and as of this moment assist him in instigating the affection he clearly wanted but wasn’t quite ready to ask for. Not that he had ever been anything but glad to hold this particular role. Crowley was, and always had been, unashamedly open about everything. At least in his opinion, he had been.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, had spent six thousand years denouncing their friendship in one breath and then asking him for lunch the next. It only made sense to the demon that the other was a bit skittish about hand holding.

Neither of them said anything about it- Obviously. But it was the most relaxed either of them been since arriving in Tadfield. The air around them settled back into something familiar.

For right now at least, Crowley was content to believe that this could be their eternity.

#1k fic celebration #I had to publish this before I tried rewriting it again #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #my writing #my fic #my ficlet #aziraphale/crowley #aziraphale & crowley #aziracrow #a/c

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ladyoutlier · 5 years ago

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Here Today Gone Tomorrow

In which Crowley and Aziraphale inherit the Earth.

[Read on AO3] | [Chapter 2]

Chapter 3: The Moon and I Love You’s

Aziraphale and Crowley’s after-lunch relaxation on the outdoor patio was interrupted before it even began by a sapling which had sprouted right outside the front door. The tree didn’t fit at all in with the surrounding ones. Instead it looked rather demented, taking on a more black tinge than green. Crowley snapped his fingers, and the plant was sucked down into the earth.

“What was that?” Aziraphale asked, following Crowley outside.

“An apple tree sapling.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he’s getting less and less subtle with each try. It’s actually really funny to watch him struggle.”

“I almost feel bad for him. If, of course, it wasn’t such a despicable thing he’s trying to do.”

“Exactly. If you want to be despicable, you better at least be good at it. It’s just sad otherwise.”

They took a seat at the nice metal table in their front garden. Really it was all one big garden and the need to specify whether it was the front one or the back one was unneeded, but for simplicity’s sake, the table was located in front of the cottage.

“So what’s Plan B on this human making scheme?” Crowley asked, stretching out in the sun.

“Actually, I’m not sure that making a human is what God intended for us.” Aziraphale fiddled with his hands.

“What do you mean by that?”

“It’s just that it is impossible for us to create a living being. Our experiment at the riverbank proved that much.”

“Yeah, but we already knew that before we tried. You still wanted to give it a go anyway. Why the change of heart?”

“I might of had a small conversation with the Almighty when you left.”

“Rather one sided I’d imagine.”

“Less so than usual actually.”

“Oh?” Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“There was some specific signs in the surroundings that suggested that I, uh, was being heard.”

“Uh, huh.”

“I’m serious.”

“Then, what’s God say? What are we supposed to do?”

“She, well, showed a bit of interest when I discussed our, um, desire to return to our lives.” Aziraphale looked to Crowley to read his reaction, but the demon’s face was stoic. “She lightened up when I expressed interest in spending it with you.”

“So what? God’s playing matchmaker?” Crowley’s face flicked through a series of emotions from embarrassment to spite.

“I, um, don’t know if it’s that far. Rather, I think She just wants us to enjoy each other’s company while here.”

“So just bloody well do what we have been doing?”

“That’s our purpose anyway. Everyone else I’m sure has their own.”

God bit Her lip and looked away. Yeah, everyone else had a purpose too… This wasn’t at all just a drunken impulse that was going rather well considering.

“Well, fine. If we’re just supposed to have a good time, let’s do that. Treat it like an extended holiday.” Crowley stood up. “Let’s go anywhere. World’s our oyster. See the sights. Where you want to go?”

“That’s a very open ended question. We’re already at the nicest place on Earth.”

“Debatable.”

“This might be a bit sooner than I expected, but I’d like to follow up that to the moon and back comment you made last night.”

Crowley smiled. “Coming right out with the big guns, eh? To the moon then.”

While the empty expanses of space would most definitely bring a swift end to any unfortunate humans that found themselves within it, the same can not be said about ethereal and occult beings. As such, Aziraphale and Crowley could find themselves stargazing within the craters of the moon with absolutely no repercussions. It was only mid-evening, but in the universe beyond the planet, it looked as late as midnight.

“In all my time on Earth,” Aziraphale began, staring at the grand blue orb in front of them. “I never took the time to see what the planet looked like from a larger perspective. There is, of course, the miniature in Heaven, but it hardly looks as fantastical as this.”

Of course, to mere mortals, there is no sound in space. If one was able to attempt a conversation on the moon, the other participating party would not be able to hear any of it. However, the rules of reality bend around the will of immortals.

“Haven’t seen it in a while myself.” Crowley stretched an arm out to the stars. “Spent enough time out there in the pre-Earth days.”

“Pre-Earth days?”

“What? Never told you, did I? Helped make some of those. Was a long time ago though.”

Aziraphale took his eyes off the constellations to look at Crowley. “Back when—”

“Yeah, back then. Like I said, long time ago.”

The angel looked back out to the stars. They shone with a bit more of a mischievous glow now that he knew Crowley had played a part in their creation. He had always appreciated the celestial bodies of the universe just as he appreciated every plant, animal, and human on Earth, but now, with this added information, the stars suddenly gained quite a bit of value.

“They’re stunning, dear,” Aziraphale said. “There is a reason after all why humanity has spent the ages staring at them. Do you remember which ones you did?”

“Eh, so so. That blob of ‘em over there. Those speckled ones up there. Just the sporadic oddballs.”

Aziraphale suspected that the demon most definitely knew which ones he had made as well as every name humans had given them. If he didn’t want to go into the specifics, that was fine. Perhaps, it was just that company is what he valued more than conversation right at this moment. Just the two of them off in the stars. Exactly as he had wanted to do during Armageddon.

This was a strange realization for Aziraphale to come to in this happy moment. It disrupted the mood greatly, but he had thought it and now he couldn’t forget it. When Crowley had wanted him to run away to Alpha Centauri together, he had invited Aziraphale to the one thing he still had left from his angel days. All that he had left in regards to faith. Well, it hadn’t worked out then, but now, here they were.

“I’m really glad you took me here, Crowley.”

“Yeah, well the fly up here is Hell in itself, but other than that, it’s no big deal.”

A shooting star darted across the sky and off to somewhere behind the Earth. Instead of a wish, Aziraphale decided on an action. He slid closer to Crowley, and laid his head down on the demon’s shoulder.

“Maybe not to you, but it’s a big deal to me.”

Crowley stiffened as he looked back to Aziraphale. As far as skin on skin was concerned, the angel’s hands were the only thing he was familiar with in the slightest. Their body swap of a couple days ago hardly counted. When they traded bodies, their physical forms merely resembled the other but without the familiar characteristics. That was completely controlled by their ability to act as one another.

Aziraphale putting his head on his shoulder was completely different entirely. With the context and the words he was saying and— It left Crowley more than a bit flustered. He tried to relax. Let his muscles loosen. Allow a smile to fall on his face. He carefully draped his arm around the angel.

“You’re right. I guess it is kind of a big deal.”

Outer space is a frozen wasteland. Without an atmosphere, the sun doesn’t heat anything up. If one was to find themselves cast out of the airlock of a rocket and somehow had the ability to no longer require oxygen, one would quickly freeze to death. However, in this one particular spot on the moon’s surface, the temperature matched that of a glorious summer day. By all known laws of physics, this didn’t make any sense, but God was fine with making an exception just this once.

Elsewhere, an agreement between two parties that very much didn’t agree on anything had been reached. 3,444,684 angels would be returned to Heaven upon the release of 3,713,598 demons back to Hell. It was a messy deal that had caused quite a bit of strain to both sides, and more than a handful of fist fights had spawned from it, but it had been completed and both Above and Below were back on track for normalcy. Although, there was a lot of paperwork that still needed to be done to account for everyone’s new jobs.

It used to be rather simple. Those that worked for Heaven stayed in Heaven and those for Hell in Hell. Now, an angel couldn’t know whether their cubicle neighbor was on the same side as them or not. Still, as strange as times were, loyalties were hard to kill. A demon working for Heaven still had Hell’s goals at heart. It was very hard for everyone to understand, but that was the thing with God. She was rather impossible to understand. Ineffable even.

Not that any of this currently affected the angel and demon stargazing on the moon. No, as far as they were concerned, everything was going perfectly fine.

When Aziraphale and Crowley returned to their cottage in Eden, the sun was just beginning to rise although it still couldn’t be seen above the Wall. They had been out all night, and although they were thousands of years old, they rather felt like giddy teenagers returning home. To tie this whole comparison together, when they opened their front door, Hastur was sat in their living room much like a strict parent would when their child missed curfew. The Duke of Hell rolled an apple about in his hands.

“This is the last time I’m going to tell you to eat this,” he said, standing.

“C’mon Hastur! This is really pathetic. Giving up this easily,” Crowley replied, striding in.

“Hardly giving up. This is just the last chance I’ll have before I’m given my old job back.”

“What do you mean by that?” Aziraphale asked, joining them inside.

“Deal went through. Heaven and Hell is all sorted, and everyone’s taking their old jobs back. I will be too. Everyone has stopped caring what God intended with these reassignments. Everyone in Hell anyway.”

“Wait. So who’s taking up my job then?” Crowley asked.

“No one. Without humans here, Earth has been designated as a waste of time. I wouldn’t expect to see much of Upstairs down here either.”

“So Above and Below are just leaving us here?”

“Consider it your exile. Have fun, Crowley.” With that, Hastur tossed Crowley the apple and proceeded to sink into the ground back to Hell.

Silence filled the cottage as Hastur’s black smoke dissipated. The sounds of Eden leaked through the walls. The wind hadn’t died down from yesterday, and the rustling flora could easily be heard inside. Crowley threw the apple into the kitchen’s trash bin. He missed, and seeing the demon had no plans to go pick it up, Aziraphale went to properly dispose of the fruit.

“I guess we really got the whole world to ourselves then, angel,” Crowley said as Aziraphale returned.

“You would think they would see more value for the Earth than just the potential to persuade humans to either side.”

“No, I wouldn’t think that at all. It’s all a competition. Remember both Heaven and Hell were dead set on destroying this place for their war.”

“Fair point. It really is a shame. Earth has many grand marvels besides humans.”

“Well, we’ve got all the time in the world to see them.”

The day went on, and many conversations filled the hours. Talks about the past, reminiscing on memories. The first World’s Fair in 1851. Oh, that was a magical day. The many evenings of setting up camp on the Silk Road. It was a tiresome trip even for celestial beings like themselves. The fall of the Roman Empire. A rather sad day for the both of them. Just story upon story upon story.

Somewhere in the mix of things, Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves up on the Wall. The Eastern Gate was privy to the company of an angel and a demon yet again, and this time, it was the correct ones. The intimacy of the night before had not disappeared.

“I am going to miss having humans down here with us,” Aziraphale said, swinging his legs over the edge. “Most of our stories involve them in one way or another. The joy or the sadness at what they’ve done.”

“Yeah, hard to cause michieve when you’re the only one here with me. Can glue all the coins I want to the ground. You’ll hardly fall for it more than once.”

“Well, now that you’ve told me, I’m inclined to believe that I’ll never fall for it.”

“I have my ways,” the demon smirked.

The sun was setting behind them. They swapped sides of the gate to watch it. Eden below glowed under the warm orange light. Their cottage was little more than a speck in the sea of green. It was much more quiet up on the Wall than it had been in Eden. Peaceful in its own way.

“As lonely as the world may be with just the two of us in it,” Aziraphale began. “I’m rather glad you’re the one accompanying me here. As much as I love the Earth, I don’t think I would last long on my own. It would become a dreadfully miserable experience fast.”

“Have to agree with you on that one. Painfully boring. And you’re not bad company yourself.”

Aziraphale smiled and laid down. Crowley joined him. It was beginning to get dark and a few shimmering stars began to make their presence known. It wasn’t the same as seeing them from space, but it was still special in its own right. Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand. The demon pretended not to notice.

“Crowley?”

“Mmhmm?”

“We’re kind of on our own now, aren’t we?”

“Figured it was that way for a while.” Crowley looked at the moon which was only a thin sliver. “But really became that way for good with the whole End of the World thing.”

“Yes, that’s true I suppose. However, now we’re alone alone. There’s not even mankind to ally ourselves with.”

“Guess so. Thing with humanity was more a figmental alliance anyway though.”

“It was still a comforting thought. That we were a more powerful number than two.”

“You wanted an army, angel?”

“No! Of course not. I—” Aziraphale caught Crowley’s eyes and instantly rolled his. “If you keep kidding me like this, I might stop loving you.”

God about spat out the water She had been drinking to fight Her hangover. Crowley had a very similar reaction, minus the drink.

“Sorry? Wha—what was that?”

“I love you.” Aziraphale smiled. He lifted up their joined hands. “What did you think this was about?”

“I dunno. I guess— I mean—just that, well, I thought—I dunno.” Crowley rather frantically ran his free hand through his hair.

“I’m taking the fact that you haven’t removed your hand from mine to mean that the feeling is reciprocated?”

“Yes! Lord—Hell—whatever, yes! Course I love you! Have been since we were here on the first go around.”

“Very glad to hear it.” Aziraphale moved in closer to Crowley, removing all empty space between them. “Would make it difficult to go on for 6000 years without knowing that.”

“Yeah, would be difficult, wouldn’t it? Couldn’t imagine that.”

“Sorry, dear. Hope I can make it up to you.”

“You already have, angel. You really already have.”

The angel and the demon began to feel drowsy although such a thing was not possible. God had gotten Her wish. There was no tap-dancing their way out of this one. Ineffable Husbands was most definitely canon. They had exchanged I-love-you’s. There was no undoing that. As big of a mess as this whole plan had been, somehow it had worked out. And of course it had, She was God after all. Even Her drunk decisions were the right ones. At least that’s how She justified it.

As Aziraphale and Crowley fell asleep in one another’s arms at the very spot the two of them had met, God decided that it was time to restore the world to the way it was. And with that, She flipped the world reset lever back up, and the morning two days after the Apocalypse finally came.

Humans returned to the planet along with the 6 millennia worth of history they had created. A certain Adam Young was fast asleep in bed with his canine friend at his side. A Madame Tracy and a Sergeant Shadwell slept, leaned against one another on a couch with the tele still playing in the background. An Anathema Device and a Newton Pulsifer clung to one another in the bed of a certain Jasmine Cottage. Heaven and Hell, having already sorted out their problems, didn’t notice the restoration of the world. Eventually they would, but for now, they had stacks of paperwork left to attend to.

And Aziraphale and Crowley, had they also not been asleep, would’ve found themselves in a certain Soho bookshop’s back room with a series of empty liquor bottles around them.

When they would wake the next morning, the first thing Crowley would do, after celebrating the return of the world, was miracle a crisp, red apple and take a massive munch out of it, and Aziraphale would be quick to tell him off for letting all that juice run down his face onto his nice carpet. Of course, he wouldn’t actually be mad. In fact, quite the opposite, but they had a banter to keep up.

They would spend the rest of the day wandering. Re-experiencing everything they had grown to take for granted. And their journey would take them to a nice piece of property for sale in South Downs that looked quite similar to the place they had spent the past few days that no longer existed. Of course they would buy it, and it would only be after they did, that they noticed a rather familiar looking statue in the back garden. Now, however, its eyes would be open, and instead of them taking on the grey/brown color the rest of it had, they would be two different colors: one blue and one gold.

[Read My Other Fics]

#Good Omens #Gomens #Ineffable Husbands #Good Omens fic #my writing

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whifferdills · 6 years ago

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Asclepius Good Omens TV, Aziraphale/Crowley, Gabriel is there. the Garden of Eden/aka Dr Who Cerulean AU. technically gen but also horny, u know how it is. ~1.8k words

read on the AO3

One of these days there would be words invented to describe this emotion, chief among them 'anxious', but for now Aziraphale settled on feeling slightly out of sorts. "It's an honor," Gabriel insisted. "I cannot stress enough how important of a job this is." "Job," Aziraphale repeated uncertainly. Uncertainty, how...unbefitting, for an Angel. He hoped it didn't show.

A window cracked open between them: the Garden, in miniature, verdant and lush. The sands outside. Gabriel gestured. "Take your time," he said, somewhat impatiently. "And when it's over?" Aziraphale tucked his wings close together. The flush of him knitted inexpertly down; a plain tunic as cover. "Easy-peasy." Gabriel grinned with at least five of his mouths, wheels spinning in cold precision. "Just make like a tree and leaf."

It's simple, ish. Certainly fewer moving parts than other forms. How difficult could it be, really, to be a tree. He settles into his roots and wraps himself in bark. Solid, unyielding. An appropriate amount of leaves shaken out and left to bask in the harsh sunlight. He makes shade in which things might grow; where fledgling humanity might take a nap, or stare blankly into space. He waits. Sometimes humanity sits, and sometimes humanity stands. Sometimes they walk in circles, or accidentally bump into each other. He basks in his love for them; he even finds things to admire about them. Their physicality, their simplicity, how they seem assured of the ground beneath their feet. The grace of them, pure and uncomplicated. The underbrush rustles, sometimes. He can't tell how far into the day it's been before he catches a glimpse of eyes, glowing reflective in the dark. Nor how long after that it is before the creature emerges, slithering languidly towards him. Black and red and almost imposing. Intelligent, possibly. The Serpent manages to look as bored as Aziraphale feels. Boredom, surely that's not right - this is a very important job, after all. He settles back into his roots and waits. Humanity isn't afraid, not yet. The Serpent wriggles past where they're sprawled carelessly on the moss, undulating over them and. On to him. Oh. Well. He's not bored anymore, at least. The thing is - the thing is. He's never been touched before, you see. Not knowingly, not with intent. The smoothness of the scales sliding over his trunk, the pressure of lean muscle curling around his branches - there is no breeze but his leaves shudder anyway, growing a touch greener, a hair broader. And the Serpent pauses, and looks up at him inquisitively. "You've forgotten the apple," it says. Oh. Oh! Of course. Aziraphale concentrates very hard, and stretches all of his Angelic energy throughout himself, from root-end to leaf-tip, and with a proverbial grunt produces a single, dismal crabapple. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," says the Serpent.

This will be known as "panic", later on - Aziraphale flicks the Serpent off (it bounces into the wilderness with a yelp) and slips first into ephemerality and then into his practiced Earthly form and then runs. Not particularly swiftly or gracefully, but with some urgency. He runs and he runs and then he stumbles, tilted headfirst until he hits the wall. The stone is hot and unforgiving against his palms, the air is too still, this body is too small - "Stay away," he calls out, voice unacceptably shaky. He turns, swallows, puffs his wings out and produces the Sword with a barely-earned flourish. The Serpent slips out of a thorn bush, unperturbed. "I have a sword," Aziraphale says. "I can see that," the Serpent responds. "Oh, for Hell's sake - " It rears up, and slips easily into personhood. Demonhood. Human-shaped, anyway, not that there's much to go on as of yet. "S'everthing alright?" Aziraphale does his best to look impressive. "Stand back, foul Demon." He has the temerity to laugh. "Oh, come off it. We're both here for the same reason. We're basically co-workers. You do the tree, I do the snake, the humans do the You Know, we go our separate ways. It's not that deep." "Not that -" Aziraphale huffs, but lowers his sword. Stage-whispering: "This is where it starts! This is God's Plan!"

"If that helps," says the demon.

"It's her Ineffable Plan and I am being Counted On and. And I'm not - I'm not doing a very good job of it, am I?" The demon, this creature - it is unfair how pretty a monster can be, he'll write a sternly-worded letter one of these days - this red and black and temptingly beautiful boy steps forward. Charming, tentative, tentatively charming and vice-versa. "Performance anxiety, happens to the best of us. I'm Crawley, by the way." "Aziraphale," says Aziraphale reluctantly, his own name sounding odd in these ears. He slips the Sword back into his pocket. He hadn't really meant to use it, anyway. How could he? Here, of all places, how could he? "Aziraphale," Crawley repeats, and it sounds even stranger - but that's a demon's voice for you. "Shall we try again? You can pop back whenever you're ready. Promise I won't look." Aziraphale glares, and Crawley dramatically covers his eyes with his hands, and they try again.

The humans are asleep, as they usually are, as there's nothing much else for them to do. Crawley sits on the ground, sifting thorns out of his coal-black feathers and burrs from his fire-red hair, gangly-legged and comfortable in Aziraphale's shade. "I can draw you a picture, if you like." Crawley adds a petal of something pink to the small pile of thorns. "You're looking for round, red, juicy - " Aziraphale is silent and settled back in his roots, but the thrum of exasperation is deliberate and hopefully clearly felt. "An Angel, inventing an Earthly pleasure from whole cloth, so a demon can tempt God's own creation into...what, exactly?" Another petal, this time white. "Are you sure your side knows what it's doing?" He waves his hand over the pile of petals and burrs and thorns and it sinks into the dirt. The roots of the Tree stretch beneath him in response. He puts his hand on the base of the trunk, the bark rough under his fingertips, and under that a clumsy, boundless love. White-hot and holy and like a sword being plunged through him. He clenches his fist and then shifts, the snake rising in his place. The humans stir, move together guilelessly. The smaller one is watching him. He slides up, wraps around the boughs. Bends the branches, curling closer to where green is budding, where fruit is swelling, ripening, reddening. She's still watching him. She's almost curious. Nearly, nearly. It won't happen now, but soon enough. He opens his mouth and sinks his fangs into an apple, listening to the leaves chatter above him.

"You're getting better at this, Angel." Aziraphale stifles a smile. It's not that he's proud, of course; it's not that he's weak to the flattery of a demon. "Oh. Thank you, I suppose. You're - quite wily. Very good at the evil... wiles." "Still needs work, though," Crawley continues blithely. "Something's missing. A certain je ne sais quoi. Can angels eat?"

"We don't need to, no." Aziraphale frowns, feeling wrong-footed and slightly ruffled in the feathers. Crawley slips to Serpent long enough to writhe up Aziraphale's calf, along his thigh and around his belly before dropping Back with a snap of the fingers and the whip of wings spreading wide. "It's not about need, Angel. Haven't you been paying attention? It's about want." He somehow manages to saunter backwards, the thicket parting for him. Aziraphale stands very still and watches him go. "Are you trying to tempt me?" "Is it working?" A pause, a consideration. Aziraphale follows wordlessly, the path closing behind them.

Paradise, down by the river. An angel tiptoes in a demon's footsteps, across the water and through the mud and the tangled vines. "Is it evil?" Aziraphale approaches cautiously, primly. "It's a blackberry bush," Crawley says. "Yes, I made it, so technically...Not everything is - nevermind. Just. Try?" "Are you teaching me how to be tempting? Or tempted? Or - " "Yes! No! Does it matter?" Crawley sighs, runs his hands through his unnecessarily luxurious hair. "One way or another we need to get through this, and I don't know about your side, but mine is getting just a smidge impatient." He plucks a berry from the bush and cups it gently, a strange and not particularly demonic energy buzzing around him. Aziraphale frowns, lips pursed. He reaches out gingerly, takes the offering from Crawley's outstretched hand. Their skin almost touches; Crawley almost flinches. He considers the fruit, and considers how it sits differently in his own hand, in the flushed rose-gold plumpness his form is aching towards. Might as well, he supposes. He shrugs, and grins, and pops the blackberry into his mouth. Takes the time to savor, to, well, enjoy. Bright, sweet, Earth-y, more-ish. He grins again, lips and teeth stained purple. "I do hope," Crawley says in a discomfitingly private voice, "that this time Upstairs has sent someone who understands that if humanity's Fall is to be chosen by them then the mechanism ought to be desirable." Flicking his gaze between the bush and the demon, Aziraphale opens his mouth to say something, he hasn't decided what yet, and then the sky catches fire.

Bye, Crawley thinks as he drops back into the undergrowth. Not worth it. Bye-bye.

"HOW'S IT GOING, CHAMP?" Gabriel screams from on high. His wheels are distinctly lilac in hue, his swords shimmering and sharpened for war. The window looks enormous from down here. Aziraphale starts, steps in front of his very first breakfast and an adorably teeny snake with what might be guilt, if guilt exists before it's been properly invented. "Um, ah, that is to say - " "WE WERE JUST HOPING TO MEET THE PROJECTIONS FOR THIS QUARTER, KINDA BANKIN' ON YOU SEALING THE DEAL HERE." "Yes, well - "

The wheels align and stop with a mighty, heavenly clang. "GREAT! WE'LL BE IN TOUCH! GOOD LUCK! BREAK A LEG! HA HA!" Gabriel stares down unblinking as the window crackles and drifts back into the aether.

Aziraphale settles into his roots and lets his branches grow, his boughs sway. God's love and her Word in the sunlight, in the shade beneath him. The human is watching, again. Earth on the verge. This is important, this is how it starts. Almost time, now, to leave the Garden. Crawley grins, pulling thorns from his hair, before he shifts. The Tree bends beneath him - he moves to where the green is budding, where the apple is growing, round and red. He sinks his teeth through the skin of it, into the flesh. Juice on his chin and leaves moving in the still air. "Knew you had it in you," he says. He leans in, pushes the apple low enough to pluck. He beckons; they wait. Humanity will come when she's ready. And after, well. They'll burn that bridge when they come to it.

#good omens #fanfic #aziraphale/crowley #do people even search tumblr anymore #*waves into the void*#i have listened to Retrograde by James Blake at least ten times tonight #official original content tag

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sacrilegen-blog · 5 years ago

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( garrett hedlund, cismale, he/him, 34. ) · for a member of THE CROWNED, i’d call you lucky for making it this far. rumor around camp has it that DEACON WALKER is a VIRGO and used to live in FERRIDAY, GEORGIA. i think i heard someone say that they’re very INTENSE, RETICENT, and UNYIELDING but who wouldn’t be in the middle of the apocalypse, y’know, especially cause they’re a raider. anyway, they remind me of that song — SACRILEGE by the YEAH YEAH YEAHS. god i miss spotify.

hello again ! after a brief and frantic scramble over muse capacity and writing, i got my head on straight and decided to drop and then re - app. a big thanks to you guys for your patience with me. ( i promise i’m not usually like this. ) if you’re interested in plotting with deacon, go ahead and give this a quick ‘lil like, and i’ll come bother you in IMs or discord !

name. deacon elijah walker. age. thirty - four. dob. september 9th, 1985. orientation. bisexual. occupation. raider for the crowned. traits. intense, reticent, unyielding, stubborn, ascetic, wistful, charming. aesthetic. the sudden strangling sensation that comes with drowning, an improper baptism seared across the inside of your skull. the snarling of something deep and terrible in the woods, knowing you don’t want to look, and then looking anyways. the sickly sound of those last, dying breaths, and remembering what they’d sounded like from yourself.

PRE - APOC.

grew up, born and raised, in the small - ish town of ferriday. his parents were good enough people, he thinks, in spite of their flaws. they were god - fearing folk, as was the tradition of their bloodline. he doesn’t know that he fully blames them for the baptism they gave him at eighteen, right before he left for atlanta, head dunked under the water of a tub, fingers scrabbling at ceramic. he doesn’t blame them, but he sure as hell remembers. there’s a resentment there, sure, when someone passes the good word of the lord onto him, but he’s numbed himself enough by now that it hardly processes as anything other than a hitching of breath.

went to community college in atlanta, and afterwards, started working as a firefighter by the time he was around twenty five, with small jobs carrying him from here to there. the work suited him. deacon liked helping people, liked the way they looked at him when he helped them. there was something sort of endearing about the way flames licked at the sky, too, like they were trying to cleanse the earth. he thought he might try going to church again and found he couldn’t even step over the threshold. this proceeded to occur every sunday up until the world ended.

POST - APOC.

he and two of his coworkers -- hawthorne and rhodes -- managed to make it out of atlanta without being eaten, out of the eight they started off with. those who tried to return to their families disappeared. it took him months to settle into the habit of killing, and almost a year before he could do it without the thought in the back of his head that spoke of sin and repentance. the world had ended. rapture occurred. god had moved on, deacon thought. god turned away from earth the minute he had to bury his axe in hawthorne two years in and hold rhodes while he bled out

he spends the third year as a loner. this is for the best. unhinged isn’t a good look for anyone.

humanity comes crawling back to him in the early waking hours of march, in year four, covered in rot and gore and blood. there’d been a family of three, staring him down from their sleeping bags, while he was holding that old worn axe in hand, taped together with hope and duct tape and determination -- a boy. a girl. a father, a mother. he lowers his axe and leaves knowing that if what the conspiracies say are true, that maybe things are coming to an end, he can’t do that. can’t carry that weight. it’d be a nigh impossible task.

when he first joins the crowned he’s half - starved and just as god - fearing as he was as a child, but it’s a good fit. they’re quiet, leave him alone, and he’s able to tune out the usual preaching sessions of humanity and a secondary eden out. he doesn’t buy into any of it, not really, has wondered if any of them really believe in the delusions their supposed prophet speaks of. he doesn’t know how he’d act if he knew others did, doesn’t know what his hands would do with that sort of knowledge. what he does know, though -- at night deacon dreams of ceramic bathtubs filled with red, the soft whisper of a hushed assurance, and grips his axe a little tighter.

WANTED :

someone who clearly has the same feelings about the crowned as he does, and is only staying with them for the sake of safety in numbers.

someone who could maybe convince deacon to eventually join another group, should shit go down.

former coworker ?? just because deacon never saw them again doesn’t mean they’re not dead, babey !

these are basic as hell please brainstorm with me.

#aela.intro #me holding deacon up for u all to see : i think he's just neat !#anyways. hi. lov me.#there are probably typos! don't sweat it!

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dxlansfxck · 6 years ago

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Saints & Sins [G.D] Part 4

“Yes, mum, I’m fine, but I really can’t come home these holidays. What? Oh, yeah, I need to learn so much, exams are coming up and I want to pass this year. No, I don’t miss any lessons, studying just became a bit harder. Yes, I’m learning a lot with Grayson, he’s really good in Math’s and Physics, he can help me a lot. Yes, I’ll tell him, mum. Love you too.”

She hated lying to her mother, but what was Y/N supposed to say? “Hi mum, I can’t come home ‘cause I’m kinda addicted to pills and you’d kick me out if you knew”? Nah, that wasn’t an option. So she decided to head wherever Grayson went, tagging along, spending some extra time with him.

“I don’t like that, Gray. I hate lying to her”, she rolls her eyes at the black phone screen, then looking over to her so called boyfriend. “You needed to, babe. Now c’mon, I’ll help you forget your mother”, Grayson pulled his angel onto his lap, kissing her like he knew she likes it. Once they started to have sex, they solved every little argument with a quick fuck. Not enough weed? Sex. Someone looked at a different guy/girl? Oral. Y/N not going home because she was high all the time? Making out and fucking again.

And Y/N could finally understand what Grayson meant when he was saying that nothing compares to the feeling of feeling so close to someone, but she always thought that was just the side effect of all the drugs she took. She was currently lying under Grayson, feeling as his orgasm comes over him, but not feeling anything herself. Her thoughts were wandering to her family and friends at home and not seeing them for the next few months, missing them already. And well, thinking about that while being fucked is nothing that turns you on. Grayson rolls off her, building another blunt, still out of breath.

“But what if she gets why I’m not coming home? I’ve never just stayed here, always went home. She’s not that stupid, Gray. Shit, she’ll know. She’ll take me off college.” “Fuck, angel, shut up, will you? Here, take another hit, you know, everything gets better after that”, he hands her the lit blunt, and damn, he was right.

“Fuck, Toni, what’s up, dude?” Grayson runs up to the tall guy, pressing his lips on top of his. Y/N was too high to care, too high to be angry, too high to feel anything. She stares at Toni, his blue curly hair, brown eyes and the slight stubble on his chin and cheeks. His eyes had lost their glow, his skin was red and oily.

“Toni, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Angel, this is Toni, my best friend.” And his best friend was very attractive, not gonna lie. “Hey.” She wasn’t interested in small-talk, nibbling on the skin around her blue nail polish while starring into the woods. They had arrived at the train station a few minutes ago and Toni was the one that was supposed to pick them up. Instead, they met at some random field, surrounded by trees and a little sea, not knowing why. Y/N was tired, hungry and somehow not in the mood for anyone besides Gray. “Y/N, isn’t there some nickname for you? Y’know, I’d love to call you something special. Like a street name, Y/N doesn’t fit your new self. Like…Diamond.” Y/N rolls here eyes, huffing. “Do I look like a stripper? Use my real name or don’t talk to me at all.” Toni laughs. “Damn, babygirl is feisty. Mhh, I kinda like that. Babygirl.” Now it was Grayson’s turn to step him, growling. “Don’t. Call. Her Babygirl. She’s mine.” The blue haired boy stepped aside, hands up in defense. “Okay, okay, G. Y/N is it, Y/N it stays. Let the little pumpkin live a little. PUMPKIN IT IS!” He held his hand out to high five the young couple, but neither of them made a move, instead rolling their eyes in annoyance.

Y/N walks a few steps away, throwing some pills into her mouth and swallowing them dry, exploring the bit of nature she was able to see. “Throw those away, Pumpkin. I’ve got something better, here you go”, Toni stopped besides her, holding out his hand. She gave him the most bored glare she had to offer but opens his hand as well. He handed her a little paper, Chesire from Alice in Wonderland printed on it. “Put it on your tongue, have fun on your adventure, it’s a pleasure meeting you, Pumpkin.” Toni winks at her, while Y/N looks over to her boyfriend that had a knowing grin plastered on his face. Shrugging her shoulders, she does as she was told and kept on walking deeper into the woods, wanting to spend her trip alone.

She doesn’t know what was on that paper, but she felt better than she ever did. Laying on a neon green field, the flowers were so colorful she couldn’t stare at them without squinting her eyes together. The sky was super bright, the sun smiled at her so beautifully that she couldn’t do anything besides smiling back at is. She didn’t want to stand up, but she wanted to explore the entire forest, maybe even talking to some deer and bunnies. Oh, and she wanted to be with Grayson so bad. Where was he? Probably with Toni, which Y/N liked now, he was nice.

“Fuck, angel. Why are you laying on these branches? We’ve been searching you the entire day, and why the fuck are you smiling at me?” Grayson seemed to be angry, but our angel didn’t care. She wanted to dance, swing around, listen to music. She couldn’t do that in the woods, but did it anyways. “Babe, can we go clubbing? I really, really want to dance, but here’s no music. I want to drink alcohol. Whoop, you’ve turned me into such a bad girl, you should spank me for that.” She laughed while twirling around her boyfriend, dancing like she was the happiest person on earth, which made Grayson generously smile before narrowing his eyebrows. “I shouldn’t just spank you, I should handcuff you to the bed and torture you, angel. But not now. And we can’t go clubbing in the woods, c’mon, let’s get you out of here. Toni, what did you give to her?” Y/N got bored of their talking, she kept walking, not caring about what Toni actually gave her.

Couple of hours later, they were sitting in some house full of Grayson’s and Toni’s friends. Whatever Toni gave Y/N, she felt nothing of it anymore, the effect was completely gone, and she was on her daily low. She decided to sit outside, curling up in front of some creek and watching the water flowing, not caring about the party, just waiting for Grayson to look after her.

“Yo, Pumpkin, why don’t you come inside? The last few lines are gone and I have the last bag of the good stuff saved. I’m sure you don’t wanna spend time with GrayPal when you’re sober, c’mon in”, Toni pads her shoulder before running back inside, her sad body following him. As soon as she was inside, she sees Grayson, his bleached mop of hair bent over the table, a roll of money in his nose, snorting whatever is on the table. Raising her eyebrow, Y/N remembers about him telling her he’d only do weed and pills, him snorting coke was nothing she wanted to see. She grew nervous, not knowing what he’d be like on this high, so she kept watching the situation before sitting down next to one of his handsome friends, another roll of money in her hand.

Seconds later, her nose was burning as hell, but the feeling went away soon enough to be replaced by a sudden high. She felt like the king of the clouds, not being able to sit still. “What are we even doing here? Let’s go celebrate our lives!” Dragging a happy looking Grayson with her, everyone went to a house party in the neighborhood where one line followed another, Y/N didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to feel small again.

“Grayson, I fucking love you. I’m so happy we came here.” They were dancing like a 70-year-old couple, holding each other tight, his head laying on top of hers. “Mh, love you too, angel. Want to feel ya, c’mon upstairs”, he mumbles into her ear while grabbing her hand and leading her into the first empty bedroom, closing the door. Of course they fucked, Y/N riding Grayson who had no strength left to pound into her like usual, both coming to their highs, before Grayson fell asleep underneath his angel. Suddenly, the walls started to move towards Y/N, the room getting tinier. “Gray, can you see that? Gray? Grayson!” She panicked, probably the drugs, probably her paranoia, but Toni was soon next to her naked body. “Calm down, Pumpkin. Breathe. Gray’s just sleeping, let him be, don’t miss the party! C’mon!” He gave her another mouth full of pills which she swallowed without even asking. She then put the blanket over Grayson before getting dressed, suddenly feeling pumped again. Toni was right, the party has just started, why let it be over again?

She had left Grayson sleeping in this room, went downstairs and has been dancing ever since. She can’t even remember, with whom she danced, doesn’t even know their names. At first, Y/N kept standing in the doorframe, watching the crowd but after what seemed like an eternity, some red-haired girl with lots of cute freckles came up to her, grabbing her hand and laid in onto her naked breasts. She was naked like most of them, her bright green eyes watching her carefully. Y/n couldn’t stop staring at her beautiful body, her face and those bright pink lips. Neither of them used words, all that the unknown girl did, was intertwining their hands and leading our girl into the group of people.

Another girl went straight towards them, this time pale with brown locks, but still as beautiful as the other girl. She kinda reminded Y/N of how her religion teacher always described Eve. It felt like it was her destiny to get down on those girls, enjoying and praising the female body like the garden Eden. The only problem she had, was which of those girls to kiss first, Eve or the fairy like goddess? As if it took her too long, they took the situation in their hands and started to undress the angel first, while some other person took advantage of her lips. All she felt was stubble and rough hands, but she didn’t want to know more about this person. Getting lost in a wild tongue fight, saliva soon dribbling down her chin, their kiss came soon to an end. As Y/N opened their eyes, the guy was nowhere to be seen. On the other hand, she didn’t know what he looked like, so she didn’t know whom to search.

Her eyes scanned the crowded room, people getting off together, her being almost jealous about the open minded atmosphere. Her hands slowly made their way down her now naked stomach, two fingers lightly pressing down onto her clit, making her squirm and let out a strangled moan. This situation was more than just a turn on, her pussy wet and drenched in Grayson’s cum from before. Eve and the fairy pulled Y/N out of her thoughts when she felt their lips roaming her naked body, which lead her into closing her eyes again, fully sinking into this moment.

Plump lips sucking on her clit, tongues exploring her folds and fingertips brushing over her sensitive nipples brought Y/N to heaven. She grabs Eve’s hair to hold her close to her pussy, bucking her hips onto her needy tongue. The ginger girl came back with a bag full of pretty pictures printed on paper, putting one on her tongue before kissing Angel. She felt it stick onto her tongue before ending the kiss and swallowing what was left in her mouth before smirking at her. Y/N’s kinky side set free, so she decided to push the fairy-like girl also on her knees and presses her face into her cunt as well. They played with each other’s tits, which made Y/N come pretty quickly, squirting on those pretty faces. Then, they decided to lay down on the couch, eating each other out, fingering and playing with their wetness, before being overwhelmed by another orgasm. Y/N felt like she was in some kind of pervert porn, while watching those girls lick of their wetness from each other’s faces. People around them clapped, whistled and soon Y/N was the one on her knees, sucking different cocks and being cummed onto. The point was, she couldn’t say she disliked it. She loved the feeling of being loved by so many people, loved being the one to give all the love she had in her body to all those people who made her feel those pretty things.

#grayson dolan #graysondolan #Dolan twins #Dolantwins #dolan #grayson #Dolan twins fanfiction #Grayson Dolan fanfiction #masterlist

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