#it’s been a while since i’ve listened to it

[ceeceekayblog]

Very interesting. I’ve have noticed in the 16-ish years since I was applying to college that conservative rhetoric in particular has shifted from “college is necessary and we need to beat the Chinese in worldwide education metrics” to “college is an unnecessary waste of money and if you send your daughter there she’s going to become a blue-haired feminist lesbian liberal.” There’s been a definite shift towards undervaluing of education.

I think there’s also a strong effect of the Trump administration’s anti-education biases. Trump is particularly angry about higher education because his Trump University scheme didn��t ever get taken seriously. And rightfully so; it was a money-grabbing scam that didn’t offer any real useful education. But he wants things his way and, even though he knew Trump University wasn’t legitimate, he wanted people to respect the education he offered. The way his campaign and first presidency treated education definitely sped up the conservative bias against higher education. I believe that this bias also drives young men to shy away from pursuing college education. Men are more likely than women to hold conservative values, and I’ve definitely noticed an increase in young men espousing far right views on the internet. If these young men are internalizing Ben Shapiro and Andrew Tate telling them they can be superior, traditional men by putting down women, I’m pretty sure they’re also listening to conservative influencers and politicians telling them college is a stupid decision.

I’m biased in favor of higher education; I’m currently one semester away from finishing coursework on my second doctorate degree. I love school. I hope to find a career in higher education so I can keep learning while passing on what I know to the next generation so that they can improve and build on my contributions. I hope we can convince young men to continue to pursue higher education because if half the population decides education isn’t worth their time it becomes a lot harder to remove the barriers in academia. We can’t possibly hope to further subsidize public universities if the people who are overwhelmingly represented in government don’t think it’s worthwhile.

If you want to be particularly concerned for the future of higher education, look up the Trump administration’s plans to cut accreditation and start a national online education program called American Academy.

Anyway, this is too long, so I’ll stop. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

Why aren't we talking about the real reason male college enrollment is dropping? (Celeste Davis, Oct 6 2024)

"White flight is a term that describes how white people move out of neighborhoods when more people of color move in.

White flight is especially common when minority populations become the majority. That neighborhood then declines in value.

Male flight describes a similar phenomenon when large numbers of females enter a profession, group, hobby or industry—the men leave. That industry is then devalued.

Take veterinary school for example:

In 1969 almost all veterinary students were male at 89%.

By 1987, male enrollment was equal to female at 50%.

By 2009, male enrollment in veterinary schools had plummeted to 22.4%

A sociologist studying gender in veterinary schools, Dr. Anne Lincoln says that in an attempt to describe this drastic drop in male enrollment, many keep pointing to financial reasons like the debt-to-income ratio or the high cost of schooling.

But Lincoln’s research found that “men and women are equally affected by tuition and salaries.”

Her research shows that the reason fewer men are enrolling in veterinary school boils down to one factor: the number of women in the classroom.

For every 1% increase in the proportion of women in the student body, 1.7 fewer men applied.

One more woman applying was a greater deterrent than $1000 in extra tuition! (…)

Since males had dominated these professions for centuries, you would think they would leave slowly, hesitantly or maybe linger at 40%, 35%, 30%, but that’s not what happens.

Once the tipping point reaches majority female- the men flee. And boy do they flee!

It’s a slippery slope. When the number of women hits 60% the men who are there make a swift exit and other men stop joining.

Morty Schapiro, economist and former president of Northwestern University has noticed this trend when studying college enrollment numbers across universities:

“There’s a cliff you fall off once you become 60/40 female/male. It then becomes exponentially more difficult to recruit men.”

Now we’ve reached that 60% point of no return for colleges.

As we’ve seen with teachers, nurses and interior design, once an institution is majority female, the public perception of its value plummets.

Scanning through Reddit and Quora threads, many men seem to be in agreement - college is stupid and unnecessary.

A waste of time and money. You’re much better off going into the trades, a tech boot camp or becoming an entrepreneur. No need for college. (…)

When mostly men went to college? Prestigious. Aspirational. Important.

Now that mostly women go to college? Unnecessary. De-valued. A bad choice. (…)

School is now feminine. College is feminine. And rule #1 if you want to safely navigate this world as a man? Avoid the feminine.

But we don’t seem to want to talk about that."

[skipper1331]

Crash // Alessia Russo

Request: hey, could you please write some angst for alessia if possible.

a/n: hope u like it :))

warnings: car crash

"Where are you taking me?" Alessia grumbled with her arms crossed as she sat in the passengers seat, not amused by the fact that she sat in the passenger seat.

"You know, I don‘t like it when you drive" she added, her frown only deepening.

Playfully offended, you gasped, "are you saying I’m not a good driver?"

She turned to you, answering dead serious, "yes!" she crumbled under the glare she got in return, your raised eyebrow never a good sign "no" she mumbled, her fingers slowly interviewing with yours. "It‘s my job to drive you around, not the other way around" the striker continued to ramble about the situation while you just smiled to yourself.

Usually, Alessia was always sat behind the steering wheel, driving you to your destinations. And though, you were able to drive yourself (license in your wallet since years) the blonde insisted on driving you every time. She even drove you to appointments that didn't involve her, such as coffee dates with your friends or else. She loved driving and especially driving you around or you just seated in the passenger seat.

"But I’ve a surprise for you, so relax" you smiled, "you‘re even allowed to be dj" you grinned, the blonde always complaining that you wouldn’t even play one song of her choice.

"You‘ve got the passenger princess privileges, use them, love"

Alessia grumbled something before she connected her phone, her playlist starting to play. "You‘re lucky you‘re cute"

You had something really nice planned which she would definitely enjoy. Lately, everything has been stressful with your studies and all the exams that were coming up. And Lessi had shown nothing but love and support during this time, which is why you wanted to do something special as a thank you.

Everything was perfect so far, the blonde slowly accepting the fact that you sat behind the steering wheel instead of her, the conversation flowing easily as always until suddenly a car appeared out of nowhere, hitting your side with a force.

That’s the last thing you remember.

-

"Is she okay?" Alessia asked the medic with a raspy shaky voice, panic radiating of her body. She didn‘t know where you were. The ambulance left immediately with you, everything happening so fast. One second, she was telling you about the derby and in the other second, the car left the road and hit a tree.

"Ma‘am, you need to sit." The medic ordered as Alessia attempted to get up, hissing in pain. Her arm and shoulder hurt awfully, her face slightly bloody as it trickled down her forehead and nose.

"No! I need to know! She wasn‘t speaking, her eyes were closed! I- i don’t know"

The medics tried to calm her down the best they could, but it didn‘t help much.

After a short examination of her, the second ambulance left for the hospital.

-

In the hospital, Alessia went through several checks. Her arm was broken but thankfully it was a straight and simple fraction and nothing splintered. Her cuts were taken care of, only the large one on her forehead needing stitches. "You were very lucky" the doctor explained, also explaining the rest of her treatment and more. But Alessia couldn’t listen, all she could think about was you.

Are you alright? Are you alive? Where are you? What was happening?

"What about my wife? Is she alright? Please tell me she‘s alright" Alessia begged, tears streaming down her face.

-

Alessia sat next to your bed, holding your hand, praying that you would open your eyes. Just anything.

She sat there for hours, not leaving your side at all. Each time a nurse came in, the blonde wanted to know everything. What were they doing? What meant this sound or that? Are you getting better? Anything. The thought of you not waking up was terrifying her.

"Lessi, i think you should go for a walk. Grab a coffee and some fresh air" her mother ordered, sensing that her daughter was thinking too much, holding your hand tightly.

"I can’t" she replied, her eyes not leaving your face.

"Less, she‘s right. As soon as something happens, we‘ll tell you immediately. I promise" your mother joined the conversation now.

"Ok-ay" in trance she stood up, walking backwards to the door, her eyes not leaving yours until she was out of the room.

When Alessia came back, nothing had happened (she hadn‘t even been gone for 5 minutes) yet she was disappointed. This was her worst nightmare.

She wasn’t able to protect you.

You looked so vulnerable in the hospital bed, so fragile. It broke her heart.

In the evening, her mum and your mum said their good bye to the girl, promising to come back in the morning, Alessia still refusing to leave your side and to sleep at home. She couldn’t.

You needed her.

-

You woke up in a bright room, groaning in pain. Looking around, you saw Carol sitting on a chair, reading a magazine. "Hey, you’re up" the magazine was long forgotten as she was at your side, offering you some water.

"Less" you rasped. You fiddled with the duvet, memories flashing in front of your eyes.

Car.

Tree.

Blood.

Less.

"Stay" her mother ordered, already calling the nurse.

"Where‘s Lessi?" you cried in pain, scared and terrified.

"Love!" Alessia‘s eyes widened as she re-entered your room, only gone for a minute to use the bathroom. "You‘re awake" she was at your side in an instant, holding your hand and rapidly kissing it. The other hand trying her best to cradle your head with the cast, "how are you feeling?"

"I‘m so sorry" you cried, "your car" you sobbed.

"I don’t care about the car right now" she stated firmly, wiping away the tears.

"You love your Mercedes"

"I don’t care about that stupid car. You‘re awake!" her voice slightly raised by all the emotions she was feeling.

In that moment a nurse came in, checking all things before the doctor joined, explaining everything and the following steps.

Carol left after the medical team had gone out of the room, sensing that both of you needed a minute alone, calling your mother to let her know what the doctor said.

"I‘ll pay you back, i promise" you refused to look at her, ashamed that the one time you were driving of course something had to happen.

"Look at me, please" she pleaded, her voice breaking slightly. She hadn’t seen your open eyes in days and now you refused to look at her. She couldn’t handle it. The lack of you in the last few days had been awful for her and not knowing if you would ever wake up, had been more than terrifying. It was a feeling she wouldn’t want anybody to feel. This fear, the feeling of not being able to breathe, as if her chest was constricting with every movement. And then the thoughts. Mentally she couldn't find rest because she hoped, prayed and mourned. There were too many emotions at once and the strongest of them was the most unpredictable - love. What would you do out of love?

When you looked at her, you realized how scared she must have been the last few days.

"Please don‘t cry" you whispered as you saw the tears, the exhaustion on her face and her injuries, "i thought-" she hiccuped, all feelings bubbling to the surface.

"I love you, i don‘t care about the Mercedes, okay? All i care about is you and that you‘re alive. That‘s all that ever matters to me" her hands cupped your cheeks, crying even more.

"Come here" groaning in pain, you scooted to the side, "stop moving. what are you doing!" Lessi asked with wide eyes, panic in her expression.

"Come here, please" with the pout on your face, she just couldn’t say no. She needed this just as much as you did. You leaned against her, head resting on her shoulder as your hand held her shirt, seeking comfort in her touch.

"I‘m sorry for driving, i just wanted to do something special" you whispered, "i never wanted to get you hurt" you mumbled, scared, exhausted and still in pain after everything.

"No more of that. We can worry about everything later, right now i just need you close" she replied, her tightening her grip around you (not even to hurt you), slowly calming down.

You were alive.

You were in her arms.

You were alive.

She couldn’t care less about her car or about your surprise or literally anything else in this world.

All that mattered was you.

"I love you so so much."

Everything was going to be okay.

It was you and her against the world.

And she would support you on every step of the way of your recovery because that‘s what wives do. In sickness and in health just like she had promised.

Like the doctor said, "it‘s going to take its time but you‘ll fully recover" and that’s what Alessia held onto. Because sometimes the only thing that helps is hope. Alessia’s hopes and believes were stronger than her fears. Hope was stronger than any fear, especially when it came to the life of a loved one. Someone that was you. Someone who’s loved so deeply by Alessia and everyone around you. Your wife never gave up, never lost her hope and faith in you and your strength. Because if she had done so, she might had lost herself at the same time.

Love was unconditional and unpredictable - that‘s what made it special.

And Alessia truly did love you, more than anything in this world (and definitely more than her Mercedes)

[henry7931]

Adventures In Babysitting Spinoff: Billy’s College Adventures Part 1

It’s been 10 years since Billy’s adventures with Leo.

Billy:

Hi, I’m Billy. I think most of you are familiar with me although it’s been a hot minute. But let me catch you up. I’m now in college and doing pretty well on the most part. I guess you can say I live a somewhat ordinary life (outside of my powers of course). I live 10 hours away from my hometown now and it’s been a little bit of a challenge for me. I have little to no friends here which is my fault. I don’t really go out to parties. I’m a good student which I great and all… I’m just bored! Mainly because I promised both of my dads that I wouldn’t use my powers here. Bleh!

I realize that my abilities can seem a bit… I don’t know odd. But they feel like such a big part of me. Not only that but I also figured out how to expand them! I recently discovered before college that not only can I swap bodies with someone but I can also swap two individuals without swapping myself. Pretty cool right?

Sigh… I just can’t use them.

I don’t think anyone else has my ability. I’ve been trying for years, doing countless research on my computer to see if I’m the only person on earth who can swap with someone. And it might just be me.

Well… that statement was true until something crazy happened.

The other day I’m sitting in my Chemistry class trying my hardest to not fall asleep during our lecture. After about 30 minutes in, I got up to use the restroom hoping I’d wake up a bit.

As I’m heading down the hallway, I hear two voices panicking.

They come around the corner and it’s a guy around my age along with someone I’d assume to be a professor. I quickly hid behind a door leaving it open just enough so I can see what’s going on.

“Professor William! What did you do to us?,” says the older guy.

“Jeremy! You think I did this? You think i want to he you??!? I’m trying not to have a panic attack. This is unheard of… two people somehow becoming eachother. This has to be a dream! I have to be sleeping right now! Wake up! Wake up!,” says the young college student who starts slapping himself in the face over and over again.

“Stop slapping my face!,” says the professor grabbing the students hand.

“Oh god! This isn’t a dream!”

“Yeah No shit! Now can you pull yourself together, people are going to think Im crazy!!”

This has to be a joke… there is no way someone else has the same powers as me. Especially someone who goes to school with me.

I look around trying to see if anyone else was around them.

No one is in the hallway…

I look back at the college student and the professor. The professor inside of the college student is hyperventilating while the other is pacing back and forth.

I thought to myself, I know I’m not supposed to use my powers here… but this maybe the one exception.

I switch them back.

“Holy shit! Professor Williams! I’m me!!”

Professor Williams looks down at his body with disbelief.

“This… how did we… oh god, let’s just get out of here. I have a lesson here shortly. Make sure you bring your report back to me Monday, okay?”

“Sure thing!”

As both of them leave, I see a tall figure with a hoodie on dart for the door.

“Hey! Come back!,” I say running after them.

They keep running and I chase after them. They head outside and by the time I get to the door, a giant shuffle of people were all outside. I looked around for the hoodie but whoever that was— wasn’t anywhere to be found.

After class, I head back to my place. I laid back in bed thinking about the possibility that someone else near me had my powers.

I feel excited from the thought that I’m not the only one. But then another thought hit me— why would they swap that guy and his professor?

Was it just to be devious? Or did they have a good reason?

Listen, I’ve been guilty of swapping my family, Leo, his friends around… hell I one time swapped bodies with a teacher just to get out of a final.

But swapping those two people felt like they did it with intent. Wait… did they know that I swapped them back? Did I just accidentally outed myself?

Fuckkkk…

I grab my phone and start texting Leo. Yes, I still talk to Leo. He said we can keep friends as long as I don’t steal his body again.

I try calling him but it just goes to voicemail.

“Hey I think I messed up. Call me when you get a second.”

Ugh… I’m sure Leo is doing something too cool with his fiancé. He met some guy and he’s head over heels for him. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for Leo. Just a little bitter is all.

A few minutes pass and I close my eyes for a second.

When I open my eyes back up, I feel almost disoriented. It’s dark outside which means I must have fell asleep for hours…

It takes me a second but I suddenly realize that I’m no longer in my room… actually I don’t know where the hell I am.

I stumble around the darkness until I find a phone. The unlocks from face recognition and I immediately open up the camera.

“What the fuck?”

Who am I???

Meanwhile…

Samuel:

*Billy’s phone rings in the distance, it’s a call from Leo*

“Hello?…Oh hey… yeah. Nothing much, just chilling here— What? My text? That’s right! No I’m all good, sorry about that… didn’t mean to panic you. I know! But can I like call you back? Okay, great. Thanks!”

Geez! One second in this guy’s body and I’m already having to pretend to him!

Billy… huh… you’re a pretty good looking guy Billy. My names Samuel and we’re about to get closer than ever lol.

I tug off Billy’s socks and prop up his feet. Damn, he has some sexy ass toes.

I’m sure he’ll be here soon in my body. It’s funny, I knew of the existence of other swappers. But I never thought in a million years one would be so dumb to make it so obvious. I mean it was one thing when he swapped those guys back but then follow me? What an idiot!

I unbutton Billy’s pants and reach into his pants.

“Mhmmm…”

Man! Touching another guys junk never gets old! And he’s cute?!? This is about to be fun!

[pinkslipxox]

In The Studio:

Summary: hot studio session with Billie 🥰🤤

Warnings: fluff, mostly smut 🙈

——————————————————————————

You glance towards the closed studio door, heart aching, the muffled sounds of Billie working leaving you with a sense of comfort and longing. It feels like an eternity since you’ve had Billie all to yourself. She’s been cooped up in her home studio, pouring every ounce of her creativity into her music. While you admire her dedication, the absence of her touch has left you feeling a little lonely.

By the time she comes home, you’re asleep. And by the time you’re awake, she’s gone. You know that you shouldn’t take any of it personally, but you miss Billie. You miss her touch, her presence, her attention. Especially her touch.

During this long week, Billie hasn’t touched you. Of course, she’s given you hugs, a gentle peck on your lips here and there, and massaged your scalp with her fingers the way you like it, but none of it compares to the passionate often times vigorous love making that lasts from deep into the night to the early hours in the morning. Her hands roaming freely on your body, soft gasps and moans echoing throughout the bedroom, your bodies molded together and glistening with sweat. To put it simply, you need Billie, and Billie needs you. Even if she’s too busy to come out and say it.

With a determined shake of your head, you decide it’s time to break the silence. You stand up from the sofa and make your way to your shared bedroom. The soft fabric of your dress slides down your body, revealing the lacy lingerie that fits like a glove. As you carefully discard the set off, you realize that there is no turning back as your heart flutters with excitement and anticipation. With a few swipes of mascara and a touch of strawberry lipgloss to your lips, you stride toward the studio door, heart pounding in your chest. You gently turn the doorknob and peek inside.

Hunched over her keyboard is Billie, lost in a world of sounds and melodies, unaware of your presence. A pair of headphone cover her ears, her head moving up and down in sync to the beat she’s listening to, and you make your way over to Billie. With your hand gently touching her shoulder, Billie looks up, and her expression immediately changes as she takes in the sight of you. Your eyes lock with hers as you straddle her lap, smirking, her hands instinctively find your waist, grounding you both in this moment.

“Fuck, baby girl,” Billie muses, her voice a delicious mixture of sultry and tenderness. You can feel the warmth spread through you as her fingertips graze your skin. You relish the closeness, feeling the way her familiar warmth envelops you.

“I missed you,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper as you lean in closer.

Billie’s lustful gaze softens as she leans forward, pressing tender kisses along your neck, her lips brushing against your skin in a way that sends shivers across your body. Your eyes flutter closed at the gentle sensation, her lips like a gentle caress on your skin.

“I missed you too, pretty girl. I’m sorry I’ve been so caught up,” she murmurs, pulling back to meet your eyes, her expression filled with sincerity.

A smirk tugs at your lips. “Sounds like you could use a break.”

“Only if it involves you, Y/N,” Billie chuckles huskily as her lips find their way to your soft breasts, letting them linger there with each kiss. A blissful sigh escapes your lips as she wraps her lips around your sensitive bud, gently sucking, her grip on your hips tightening. Her tongue swirls along your nipple, and you feel her smirk on your skin as your sighs turn into moans.

“Billie, please…” you half-beg, half-whine as you begin to rock your hips on her clothed thigh, the friction causing a spark of warmth to spread through you. At Billie’s approval, you slide her shorts down enough to expose her milky skin. You lower yourself onto her again, a gasp escaping your lips at the sudden skin to skin contact.

“C’mon, baby girl,” Billie encourages, delivering a light slap to your ass. There’s a wicked gleam in her ocean blue eyes, and it makes your breath hitch as you begin to grind yourself on your girlfriend.

Another slap on your ass makes you moan, your head tossed back in pleasure as you continue to sway your hips, your core throbbing as Billie’s smooth skin stimulates your sensitive clit. Better yet, Billie starts to bounce her leg, fingers digging into your skin, and her name stumbles off your lips as you fuck yourself on Billie’s thigh. You’re so relieved yet so desperate, you’ve been waiting for this for what it felt like ages, and it feels so good.

“God, I missed this,” Billie purrs, her voice muffled against your skin. She leaves hot, opened mouth kisses on your breasts, leaving a few marks while she’s at it, and it only adds to your pleasure. “You’re so beautiful,” she adds, her voice thick with admiration.

You feel yourself peak, the world narrowing to that single, exquisite moment, and a cry of pure bliss echoes the studio. Billie whispers sweet nothings as you come down from your high, pressing her lips lightly on your skin, traveling up to your neck, jaw, and then to your lips. It’s sweet yet passionate, and it sends shivers coursing through your body. Billie pulls back slightly, her eyes searching yours, filled with both love and an undercurrent of desire.

“You’re my everything, Y/N. I promise I won’t let work take me away like that again,” she vows, her voice firm yet tender.

You smile at her words, feeling cherished as you let the moment wash over you. “You’re all I need, Billie.”

With that promise hanging in the air, your lips find each other’s again, gently, before Billie deepens the kiss. Your heart beat quickens, not just from the aftermath of what had just happened, but from the love and warmth Billie radiates just got you. You loose yourself into her again, tongue massaging hers in the most heavenly way, her hands roaming your trembling body. Then before you can even process it, you are pinned against the recording booth by Billie, her arm wrapped tightly around your waist as she hoists your leg up to her shoulder.

She settles herself between your thighs, her eyes looking back up into yours with mischief and love, and your breath hitches as you realize what’s about to happen. With that, Billie leans forward, and you gasp as her tongue presses flat on your clit. She then pauses for only a brief moment.

To press ‘record’.

“I want to hear you, mama,” Billie commands before she disappears between your thoughts again, coaxing out every moan and whimper out of your lips, the only music she’ll ever need.

[my-starlights]

ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇx!ʙꜰ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ…

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ. In which you stumble into your ex, Nanami Kento.

ʟɪᴍʙᴏ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. Angst :: hurt/comfort :: fluff at the end :: sfw

ʟᴏꜱᴛ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛꜱ. Nanami Kento  :: Gojo Satoru

ʀᴜɪ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ. It’s been a while since I wrote something haha… I said I’d do geto but Nanami has my heart so here we are 😭

ᴡᴄ.  1.1k

“Listen, let’s be mature about this, please.”

The light on your phone glares into your glassy eyes.

“I don’t want this either, but you’re not a child anymore.”

Even though you’re looking at couplecore posts on social media, Kento’s voice keeps breaking through.

Stupid lovey-dovey couples on Tik Tok. You angrily swipe at your eyes and press ‘not interested’ at the video.

“If you can’t handle this argument like an adult, perhaps you should take a step back from this relationship.”

Your phone suddenly turns dark - agh, it died - and with a huff you set it down to charge, looking at the ceiling. It’s been three weeks since your messy breakup with Nanami Kento, and social media isn’t helping you forget about you and your boyfriend’s - ex-boyfriend’s - argument;  it started as a small confrontation about him overworking and ended with… with this.

You, leaving your shared home and going to your old Jujutsu Tech dorm.

Kento, still at his office, head in hands and unable to focus.

You know he’d never cheat; but it seemed like he was working to the bone. No more weekend dates or him coming home to you cooking dinner; he was at the office more than he’d see you, and for weeks on end. You’d been crying, begging him for a break from work, and him stoically telling you in an impatient voice that this was just what being an adult was.

The two of you never fought like this before. Ever since the argument, you feel as if a chunk of your being was forced away from you, leaving you empty. Alone. You feel a lump in your throat and swallow, blinking back more tears.

It’s time to move on, you reason with yourself. It was nearing midnight.

You sigh and close your eyes.

—

The next day, you wake up with the same sense of dread you’ve had in the past couple weeks, and just as you exit the old dorms… you see Gojo Satoru. Of course. You hadn’t seen him alone in a while, only with his girlfriend.

He spots you and strolls towards you, running hand through his hair. Was he… relieved?

Something’s awry.

“Ah! I’ve been looking for you,” he says, sighing as he takes in your somber appearance. “Everywhere. You have no idea.”

“Well here I am,” you say tiredly. “Why… why were you looking for me?”

“Nanami has been quite worried about you, you know. He wouldn’t tell me anything other than that. He’s asked me to look for you and taken time off from work, and everything.”

What? Kento off of work? This only happened on birthdays or holidays. And Gojo actually listening to Kento for once too? This has never happened.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “Well, I don’t know why anyone’s looking for me. I’ve been here. Besides, Kento and I, we’ve broken up, so—“

“WHAT??” Gojo screeches, and you jump back, surprised by the noise. “YOU’RE NOT TOGETHER ANYMORE?”

You rub your temples. “Not anymore, I think?  He said I should take a step back from our relationship, and—“

Gojo is about to screech again when Kento walks up, hair ruffled and tie loosened, looking ready to murder Gojo. “Leave,” he barks at Gojo. “You found her, now go bother someone else.”

You jerk away from the two men. What the hell is happening?

Kento moves up to Gojo mutters something into his ear;  the latter turns pink and begins walking away, looking at you apologetically. Kento rubs the bridge of his nose, and turns to you.

“Oh, love,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry about the past couple weeks. It wasn’t you who was immature, it was me.”

You look at him, defensive, eyes already slightly glassy. “You broke up with me. And now you want me back? That’s not how break ups work.” You pivot on your heel, heart breaking at his surprised face, and start walking briskly away, him quickly catching up.

“Love, I didn’t mean to… we’re not seriously broken up, are we? I never meant to… I was speaking without thinking, please don’t tell me you thought we’re broken up…”

You turn to Kento abruptly, still walking. “What was I supposed to think?” You say, incredulous.

“No, no, no, love, I’m so sorry, please just stop walking—”

“—Kento, I’m not mature enough for you. I don’t take what you take seriously, I’m childish near you, and you made that clear. I understand now—“

You’re interrupted by Kento falling to his knees in front of you. “Love,” he says, collecting your palms in his hands. “Please forgive me. I was the immature one, you’re too good to me, you were looking out for me—“

“Kento please get up—“

“—You need to understand this. You’re the love of my life, how could I ask that you step back? I’m ruined without you—“

“—Kento, please just—“

“—you’re the love of my life, I’m so sorry, I’ll spend every day making it up to you. I’ve started going only part-time at my job. I’m ready to do the best I can for you. You were worried about my well being and I punished you for it. Please just forgive me…”

Tears finally start rushing down your face, but Kento doesn’t let go of your hands. “Oh, Ken…” you sniffle. “You started part-time? For me? Please get up, I…. Let me hug you….”

He rushes up, feeling the blood run to his head, but he doesn’t care; you hug him hard, still crying. He feels a stab in his chest every time he feels a tear sink into his shirt.

You mumble against his broad chest. “I forgive you,” you mumble. “I missed you, Ken. I love you.”

He wraps you in a hug, looking down and cupping your face. His usually steady voice tremors slightly. “Am I still your… are we still together?”

You smile up, eyes watery, at him. “If you’ll have me.”

He hugs you hard. “There is no universe in which I don’t want you. I… let’s not do this here, love. Let’s go home, yeah?”

Your eyebrows crinkle in a way Kento didn’t realize he missed. You look up at him. “Home?”

“You think I just meant to apologize and move on? No, love, I have gifts for you. And a dinner planned. I don’t want to spend any more time at work that I could spend instead with you.”

You take his hand and intertwine your fingers with his, then lean upwards to peck his cheek. “I love you, Ken,” you say, stepping back.

The somberness, the loneliness you felt just this morning, fade away. The part of you that broke after your fight seems to mend itself back into you. Finally, you’re….

Complete again.

© property of @ghost-buddies. do not repost, translate or edit.

[luvsfics]

LADY OF THE LAKE — House of the dragon

Aemond Targaryen x Tully!Original character

Description: The one-eyed prince is betrothed to a Tully. A fish and a dragon, a horrid match. Perhaps, with time, the two find they fit each other well after all. A dragon rules the skies, while the fish rule the sea.

Chapter warnings: mentions of arranged marriages.

Authors note: it’s been forever since I’ve posted, let’s hope I’m not too rusty. I tried to keep on theme with the Sesame Street names and I didn’t really like ‘Abby’ for a Tully so Natasha it is!

As beautiful as the maiden herself, many said about the daughter of Elmo Tully. Long locks of auburn hair and eyes as blue as the ocean, the perfect image of effortless beauty and innocence. Yet, beauty wasn’t all that mattered to the one-eyed prince. A pretty face isn’t all he wanted in a wife. What if she was dull, or just plain dumb?

“An alliance with the Tully’s will be a great opportunity for us, Aemond.” His mother explained, her face painted with annoyance. His eyebrows furrowed, why must he suffer the same fate of a loveless marriage just like his mother and father? Many thoughts raced through his mind.

He would’ve much preferred the solace of never marrying and becoming commander of the city watch. Many women have expressed behind closed doors their distaste for the prince, how hideous his scar was, or how he would never have time for a woman with his studies and training. why would he want to condemn anyone to such a fate of being wed to the maimed prince?

Yet, sometimes, late at night, he imagines what it would be like to have a wife. Someone to hold close, someone to protect, someone to start a family with. Nothing like the marriage between his parents, he would be good to his wife unlike his father.

“It is not up to you, anyway. You will meet the girl and you will serve your part as prince of the realm.” Alicent said, huffing out a sign of anger.

His nostrils flared. Aemond stormed out of the council room where few lords sat, swiftly making his way through the halls of the castle. His head swirling with anger as he made his way to the training grounds to begin his practice for the day.

Natasha’s heart raced in fear. Many accounts of people have spoke of the second son of the king’s gruesome looks and rough attitude.

“It is a great opportunity and honor to be considered for this,” her handmaiden said as she laced up her corset. Her father had broken the news to her earlier that morning. They were preparing to set off to kings landing in before noon to reach kings landing by the morning.

She gulped. The horrid feeling of nausea flooding her stomach.

What if he didn’t think her worthy of him? What if he was the cruel man rumors say he is? What if he is ugly? Her thoughts racing around her head.

Of course, she dreamt of becoming a wife to a loving husband and mother to beautiful babies. Yet, it felt as if her world came crashing down at the thought of her betrothal to the prince of the realm.

“You will be a princess!” The young girl exclaimed with excitement as she tied the laces into a bow. Natasha let out a nervous laugh, attempting to lighten her own mood.

She prayed to all seven gods for their mercy, for she might need it in the days to come.

The roads to kings landing were long, with her brothers Oscar and Kermit’s immature mocking, singing of their sisters betrothal to the prince.

“Nattie will be a princess! All prim and proper!” Oscar exclaimed, Kermit laughing as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

Natasha scoffed. “So hilarious, Oscar.” She rolled her eyes.

“Imagine having to marry AND bed the prince Aemond, commonly know for his horrific looks!” Kermit was almost dying of laughter as he spat out.

“Father!” Natasha turned to her side, the lord of riverrun barely listening to his children as he shoved his nose in scrolls.

“Stop tormenting your sister, boys.”

The brother’s laughter just barely died down as they whispered jokes to themselves.

Natasha shifted her gaze outside the window of the carriage, taking in the beautiful scenery of the kings road as dawn rose. Her nerves slowly returned, nausea seeping back into her stomach as they approached kings landing.

The heavy sound of gates opening made her heart stop, they were there. They were finally there.

The carriage came to a stop. “Lord Elmo Tully, Lord paramount of the trident and Lord of Riverrun and his children, Kermit, Natasha, and Oscar Tully.” The Guard announced.

Her father stepped out of the carriage to be greeted by the hand of the king, Otto Hightower. The boys went next, bowing to the Hightower lord. Lastly, Natasha.

With her beautiful grey-blue dress with sliver embroidery to represent her house, which contrasted prettily with her Mahogany colored hair and blue eyes. Fitted perfectly to her features and picked by her hand-maiden herself.

“My daughter, Natasha.” Her father gently took her hand and presented her to the hand. She gracefully curtsied, “A great pleasure, my lord hand.”

“Indeed, my lady. The Queen asked me personally to escort you all to the Godswood where she and the Prince Aemond await your arrival.” The hand said with a soft grin.

Natasha took in a breath, which was hard with how tight her handmaiden, Elissa, tied it. The hand led the family through the keep. Elissa quickly caught up to them from the other carriage, linking her arm with her lady’s.

The beautiful weirwood tree came into view as the guards opened the doors to the Godswood. Standing under it, the Queen of the seven kingdoms and the Prince Aemond with Guards and maids roam the area.

“Please, we have refreshments over there. Help yourselves.” Otto said as he made his way over to his daughter and grandson, most likely to prepare everyone for this meeting.

Elissa and Natasha stood to the side as her brothers raided the table of food and drink. “My heart feels like it might burst.” Natasha whispered.

Her back was turned to the prince, she was too frightened to meet his gaze. “It is alright, my lady. You are kind and smart and very beautiful. What isn’t there for the prince to like?” She caressed her arms.

Elissa peaked beside Natasha to look upon the prince. His sharp looks and long silver hair weren’t completely…unpleasant to look at.

“He is actually quite handsome, my lady.” Elissa smiled.

The River-lady slowly turned her head to the weirwood tree. Her eyes meet the side of the prince. His face chiseled and strong, his long silver hair pulled half-up, his Valyrian features graced her vision.

Her gaze raked over his form. His strong arms in his tunic and small waist she was almost jealous of. He looked as if he walked out of one of her romance books. A dashing knight for her to love and to hold.

Aemond’s gaze met her own. Her heart hammered in her ribcage as if she looked upon the face of a god. His own eyes widened, mimicking her own.

Through his own eyes, he felt the same. Her long, locks of red, shining in the sunlight of dawn, almost like a halo. Her striking ocean blue eyes staring into his own, and her delicate features. She was like an angel, cursed to live her life with him.

Her dress fitting her body perfectly, though he shamed himself for the those thoughts. For all have said she was beauty of the maiden herself.

“She’s quite beautiful, is she not, Aemond?” Otto asked his grandson.

“Quite.” He hummed.

[bettystonewell]

What Happened Last Night? - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: After burning the Book of the Damned and escaping the Styne’s, you all have a night of harmless celebrations back at the bunker. At least, it was harmless until Charlie suggested a game of Never Have I Ever, and the rest of your night became a blur. Friends to Lovers 18+ only

Word Count: 3,300

Warnings: Language, Dubious Consent (implied drunk sex), SMUT in part two

Or read it on AO3 here

A/N: Hey 👋 This is my first time posting a fanfic on Tumblr. The names’s Beth (Aussie/Dean-girl/tired mum). I’ve been on AO3 (and Wattpad) for over a year now and thought it was about time I put my big girl pants on and join the community here because it looks fun (though the social media side of this scares my close-to-midlife-crisis-ass). So, yeah, newbie in terms of everything here - please be kind. If you recognise me from the other sites, please say hi 😊 This is a cross post - there are two chapters total. Let’s see how this goes!

in vino, veritas

in wine, there is truth

Five bodies sat around the mess room table that night, drinking their troubles away and eating their fill. 

You, Dean, Sam, Charlie, and Cas at the end, sitting on a wooden chair he’d brought in from the library to make more space for those of you who did eat.

"This won't work," you said to the other four, though it was technically directed at Charlie. Your tone was as condescending as you could make it under the influence of the alcohol you’d already consumed. 

Three beers and two sneaky sips of Charlie’s Harvey Wallbanger you’d taken while she wasn’t looking.

It was one less ounce of bounce in her step for your at-the-time more than tipsy gal pal and well deserved. Especially now she’d revealed her true intentions on why she’d encouraged you to partake in drinking in the first place.

In her overly enthusiastic state, she’d suggested a game to get “The Party Started.” A phrase she’d attempted to sing in vain as only you seemed to understand its reference. 

Though Sam might have had a clue. His mouth had turned up around the lip of his bottle he’d conveniently sipped during the rendition of the Black Eyed Pea's early noughties banger.

Dean was one hundred per cent clueless, of course. Nothing past the eighties was decent to him. Nothing except that one Taylor Swift song you’d caught him listening to when he thought no one was watching. 

He had sulked then and had been sulking on and off again since last night. Brooding over the fact he’d lost his one chance to remove the mark. Unbeknownst that Sam had not burnt the Book of the Damned like he, Charlie and Cas thought, but in a better mood thanks to the booze and pizza he’d brought home.

You knew better.

Both about his demeanour and what had really happened with the ancient text. 

You’d seen Sam swap it with a replacement and you’d promised him you’d keep your mouth shut. Something you were hating your past self for.

Past you was a fucking idiot.

A fucking idiot who was about to get drunk from a game of Never Have I Ever like Charlie had suggested, and at risk of spilling more than one can of beans if you didn’t think of something fast to stop it. 

Charlie, the conniving little… She knew way too much about you after the last time you’d had a few with her and the glint in her eyes that you’d seen when she suggested the damn game was enough for you to know that what she was planning was dangerous.

A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts. Or something like that.  

And she was almost there. 

“What do you mean, it won’t work?” she said with far too loud a pitch that made even Cas uncomfortable. 

Well, more uncomfortable than normal.

“Umm. The angel, for starters.” You directed your gaze at Cas, realising too late that you were going to give him a complex. “I think most of our everyday human experiences are going to be a never for him. And whatever he did in heaven will be the same for us. It’s unbalanced.”

“You’re thinking too much. He’ll get drunk. We’ll get drunk. That’s the point of the game,” Charlie said.

But her grin left her when a gruff, “I won’t,” interjected itself into the conversation. 

Hah. Won’t. It was as if you’d sucked the happiness out of Charlie and taken it all for yourself to then rub it back in her face. “See. Cas doesn’t want to play. And Sam and Dean clearly don’t want to play either.” They'd said nothing against the suggestion and nothing against you now.

“Actually, you don’t have enough liquor here to get me drunk,” Cas added.

Don’t have enough… “Seriously?” You looked at him again and he nodded. An apologetic look on his face.

Which brought a ‘challenge accepted’ one into Charlie’s.

Looking around the room for support from the guys, you noticed Sam hiding a silent chuckle behind the bottle in his hand. 

While Dean, who had been quiet since Charlie had burst out in song, locked eyes with yours. “Well, if there aren’t any more arguments from you, sweetheart, let’s play.”

And you thought Cas’ claim that there wasn’t enough booze for him was a surprise.

Fuck. Your head was pounding.

Your mouth was drier than a desert with a chalky sensation in your throat and lips that felt like they had cracked. 

Yup. Cracked alright. They stung as you splayed your tongue over them, attempting to nourish the skin with what little wetness you had left in your mouth. A fat lot of good that did, though.

They weren’t the only part of your body feeling uncomfortable. Pins and needles from where you’d slept funny on your arm tingled from your funny bone to your wrist.

‘Ow. Fuck.’ Well, that hurt.

You were hung without a doubt, and just all over feeling seedy.

At least you’d slept some of the alcohol off and were no longer drunk. You thought.

The strands of hair that had made their way into your mouth and the saliva you strung along with it as you pulled it out would say otherwise. Urgh. Gross.

Had you been drooling? No wonder your throat was dry.

You groaned and forced your eyes open. Yes, you had. There was a wet patch on the white pillowcase below you.

Odd. You didn’t own white sheets. 

You’d decorated your room in the bunker with as much colour as you could. What with the hunting life full of black, brown, denim and blood, you didn’t need any of that spreading into your personal space. 

Of course, white was colour(ish), but again, you didn’t own white sheets, and your room didn’t have a solid wall where you were facing. Curiouser and curiouser. Your door was supposed to be right there. 

You were at the correct end of the bed for it. A headboard behind you and a pillow underneath you, meaning you were lying on the right side. Yet all you saw was more bricks, a tall boy in some kind of brown and clothes that weren’t yours scattered on the surrounding floor. 

Amongst them, a pair of jeans - okay, they might be yours. But the flannel? One plaid with various browns and greens. The very same Dean had been wearing last night?

Fuck.

Dean’s clothes. Dean’s room.

This was Dean’s room? 

This was Dean’s room. 

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. 

What were you doing here? The last thing you remember was… Fuck.

Those lips. Dean’s lips, plump and whiskey-tainted, had peppered kisses on you in more than one place. Over your mouth, your cheek and your neck. Lower... 

You’d learnt the spot at the base of your ear above your lower jaw was quite sensitive. Dean had learnt that, too. He’d also learnt a few other things if your tainted memory served you correctly, and you, the same about him.

The way his muscles contracted around his chest and back. Every little ridge, taut and firm, continued even down his arm and into his hands. Those talented fingers had a way of placing pressure in just the right places to make you blush. They’d found their way under your shirt and bra and…

Oh… Oh…

Had you slept with him and not remembered the main event? Was that possible with Dean? Your friend. The guy you’d wanted to be more than for the longest of time.

You've fallen for him the day you’d met. With that charming smile and those dazzling green eyes. 

And that was before you’d gotten to know him.

Now you knew the man behind the shit-eating grin. The playful, sometimes scary nerd (who refused to admit it) was loyal to those he cared about. A self-righteous martyr, who could be a bit of a dick sometimes and followed it too when the time was appropriate. 

Not that he’d done it so much lately. 

Except, maybe now.

You were screwed and without asking him, there weren’t too many ways to check if indeed you had been by him.

You turned your head slowly to find an empty bed next to you. 

Thank fuck. There was plenty of time to ask, but his bed was not the place.

You stretched your legs out, noting they felt normal. Stiff if anything, but not in a way you’d expect if you’d partaken in good sex.

Of course, that meant nothing. Maybe the rumours you’d heard about Dean were untrue?

Yeah right. 

You’d seen the satisfied faces from all of his past hook-ups as they fled his motel room the next morning. Possibly one in every state. He had brought none of them to the bunker though, meaning you were the first to sleep in his room. In his bed.

Go you... That was something to be proud of, not. 

You’d hightailed it out of his room after all that. Slinking off down the hall to your own to get changed out of the clothes you’d been wearing the night before. You hadn’t been wearing them when you’d woken up, of course. Oh, no. You’d been wearing one of his henleys, braless underneath, and your underwear surprisingly still on. 

While you’d think that would be a comfort for you, you knew that meant nothing. Though everything felt normal down there, so maybe it did. 

You weren’t sticky when you had a shower, but you noticed the love bites above your breasts when you looked in the bathroom mirror after it. There were bruises on your hips too. Ones shaped like fingerprints that fingers had pressed into you on either side. 

Hmm.

There was only one way to find out what had happened and once you’d primed and prepped yourself, wearing clothes that covered you from your neck to your toes, you made your way to the same room where everything had gone down the night before.

Stupid Charlie and her stupid fucking game. 

“Hey, Charlie,” you greeted when she saw you enter. Her eyebrows raised, along with her grin. “Where’s everyone else?” 

In other words - Where’s Dean?

Only Charlie sat at the table. The rest of the room was clear. There were no more pizza boxes, no more alcohol bottles and no one in the kitchenette. Not even someone’s head in the fridge. 

Just Charlie, with the smell of bacon and freshly ground coffee lingering in the air around her.

Coffee. You needed some of that.

“Sam’s got his head in the books again. Can you believe he was up before eight?”

Actually, you could and you hummed in response as you took your fresh cup of steaming goodness up to your lips to sip.

“I think Cas has left the building. We may have gotten him drunker than we thought.” She smirked. “And I figured you knew where Dean was.”

Your mouth spluttered over the rim of your cup. Coffee now dripped down your shirt and a few of the drops had landed on the floor. 

You flicked your eyes to your friend as you placed the cup on the table opposite her. Towels. You needed towels.

“Don’t give me that look. I saw you two after I left. And I checked on you this morning when I first got up. You weren’t in your room,” she said.

There was a knowing look on her face as you made your way between the pantry and back again that you ignored. Stooping down low to wipe the spill you’d made on the tiled floor below, only joining her once you’d discarded the paper towel in the bin along with your dignity.

Your hands went straight back to your cup, sipping on the rim and avoiding Charlie’s prying eyes.

“Come on. Let me live vicariously. What happened between you two?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

“You don’t know? I set this all up for you and him and you don’t know?”

“Ssshhh.” Your shoulders slouched, and you reached across the table to grab her arm. “I don’t remember, okay? I woke up in his bed but…”

“Did you two?” She made a crude gesture with her hands.

“I. Don’t. Know.” Your eyes were open wide as you enunciated every syllable to get your point across. 

“How do you not know?” Charlie blinked a couple of times. 

Drawing in a long breath, your mouth agape and ready to sigh it all out, you looked back at your friend and trembled your head in a quick shake. “I remember fooling around a bit but I don’t remember much more than that.”

“So you just woke up in his bed and don’t know how you got there?” she asked.

“I mean, I know how I got in his room, I remember that much, I think, but I don’t remember lying down or, you know.” The look you gave her was enough. You didn’t need to elaborate and even if you had wanted to, a heavy thud of boots echoed through the corridor outside.

Sure, it was possibly Sam, but that distinct gap between steps could only have been made by one bow-legged Winchester. And when Charlie’s face lit up opposite you and you heard the sound abruptly stop from somewhere near the door, you knew it to be true.

“Morning Dean,” she said. The chirpiness in her voice made you want to slap her silly but as you only had access to the hand that still held yours in the moment, you dug your fingernails into the skin below them instead. “Ow. You want some breakfast? There’s bacon still in the pan.”

Dean grunted and you felt eyes boring into the back of your head.

You refused to look behind you to where you knew he was pouring his own coffee by the sounds of it and released Charlie’s hand to pick up your cup. You took slow sips, keeping both your mouth and the rest of your body occupied while your elbows rested on the table, defending yourself from Charlie and her quips.

“How did you sleep?” she asked this time. Her eyes flicked between you both.

Could she be any more obvious?

“Fine,” he grumbled. “You got any more questions, or are you gonna leave us in peace to sort our own shit out?” 

Fuck.

You looked over at Charlie with a pleading look that said ‘Please don’t go.’ My how things had changed. But she grinned back at you and wagged her eyes, before standing and leaving the room in haste. Damn traitor.

As her footsteps trailed off down the hall, the room grew uncomfortably silent. Making your sips the loudest thing to have ever existed in the world. 

Your coffee was more bitter than it had been and you needed sugar pronto if you ever wanted to finish it.

You brought your cup down and placed it on the table before you to let your fingers fidget over the thin porcelain. Paying attention to each sharp angle between the curves and painted decorations. More so than was ever necessary.

Your eyes fixated on it, even as Dean took Charlie’s place across from you, watching you with caution. “So,” he cleared his throat. “How’d you sleep?”

Seriously? Taking Charlie’s line was how he wanted to start this. Well alrighty then. “Um. Fine, I guess. You?” You braved a glance at him, noting he was more serious in his disposition than usual.

“Like a log,” he said before silence filled the room again.

Right. You weren’t sure what you should say next. There was that big question on your mind, but you wanted, no, needed to approach it carefully. You didn’t want him to know you didn’t remember what if anything had happened between you. 

Not for his ego, but for yours.

You took another glance at him and saw his tongue run along the inside of his cheek, making it stick out under the five o’clock shadow he was yet to get rid of. He always looked his best like that. 

“I uh, I was surprised you weren’t there when I came back to my room just now.”

Wait. He was? “You were?” 

“Yeah.” There was a defensive twang in his tone. It was subtle, but it was there. “I only went to take a shower and then I found you’d bolted… I thought…” He shook his head.

He thought. Thought what?

You looked him up and down. It wasn’t just his tone that was unusual. The way he held his shoulders and the way he gripped his coffee cup before him was odd. In anyone else, you’d say they were lacking in confidence, but Dean wasn’t like this.  

The last time you’d seen him in such a way was after he’d killed Randy and the thugs in Pontiac and had come home dishevelled and broken over what he’d done.

“What did you think?” you asked, stretching your arm out to brush his hand across the table. Hoping that by doing so it might relieve whatever tension he was feeling.

There was a warmth there, that spread under your fingertips as your skin touched his and brought flashbacks to your mind of you touching other places on his body. 

You’d seen him with his shirt off last night. Been up close and personal with his tattoo and the scars that adorned his chest. You’d felt the dip in his spine and the pressure of his waistband pressing into your thumbs when you’d hooked them under the denim that sat around his waist.

Had you gotten into those jeans last night?

“Last night,” he said, watching your hand with interest. “After what we talked about.”

What we talked about? You’d stayed up well into the night with him. Long after Sam and Charlie had gone to bed and Cas had disappeared to do whatever Cas does. But just like your memories of what took place in his room were drawing blank, so too were whatever words you’d exchanged with him. 

All you could see were the grins and smirks he threw your way, and you nodded your head to stall. It didn’t do you any favours. 

He was looking at you with a scrutinising gaze and just as your cheeks had burned when he found that spot under your ear, they did the exact same to you now and gave everything away. “You. You don’t remember? Do you?”

You bit your lip and shook your head. “I ah. I’m drawing blanks. Some of it, I remember, but I couldn’t tell you what we talked about after the others left. And…” You hesitated.

“What?” His eyes locked onto yours and while they made you nervous, you couldn’t pull away. 

“Dean. Did we…” 

He seemed almost disappointed. But rather than wait for you to finish your question, or answer it even though it was as obvious as Charlie had been, he stood up, scraping the chair along the floor as he did so to storm off.

‘What the fuck just happened?’

You had drunk a lot and been drunk because of it. You’d spent time with Dean alone after the others had gone to bed and had talked with him about something. 

Something that led you to his room and into his bed. 

There’d been action. Kisses and touches. A bit of groping and clothes being removed. Small flashes of that continued to form in your mind. But while marks had been left on your skin and you’d stayed the night in his bed, you couldn’t remember the physical act of him being inside of you. Or you giving him a happy ending either for that matter. 

And now, he was disappointed.

Could it be that he felt the same way you did? 

————————————————————Thank you for reading! I’ll try posting part two same time next week - or you can read it now on AO3 here. In the meantime, I’ll be trying to work this site out (and finishing my WIPs whose updates are overdue… 🙃

[moonysweetheart]

and they were only friends...

fem!reader x remuslupin

word count: 1,275

warnings: none, all fluff and cutesy

“What you guys doing?” asked Sirius with his brows crunched. He and James had just entered the dormitory, having come back from another detention with McGonagall. Peter was studying in the library with Mary Macdonald, since recently he was trying to impress the girl and passing most of his time in detention with the boys would not help him much.

“We’re playing, duh” said yn, smiling like it was obvious. Both yn and Remus were playing a bicycle game, lied on Remus’s bed, with their legs up, feet touching and moving them as if pedalling a bike. Giggling as they moved their legs from back to front. Looked like two kids, James thought.

“You two look like a couple,” continues James, coming out of the bathroom he barely enter and looking funny towards Sirius direction, both boys sharing a knowing look.

“I agree” said Sirius.

“Bullshit” pronounce Remus, feet never stop moving while yn giggled more. “Yeah, bullshit!” voiced yn, laughing.

Every time Padfoot and Prongs interrupted, Remus pretend to be bothered, making an upset expression. Inside, he was genuinely disturbed, even if it was a bit. He could lie to others, but he and the wolf inside him knew how much he craves for these moments alone with yn. Usually they were always with their friends, if not the boys, certainly with the girls. And Lupin knows best than to tried intervene a chat between yn and them, especially Marlene and Lily. His upset face would quickly disappear as fast as it come when yn pushed her feet further and laugh more. Her laugh was music to his ears.

Both boys exchanged looks again. James had changed his shirt and now was looking for a hoodie. “Dude, how long do you think it takes until they start to making up and we’ll be denying of entering our own room,” whisper Sirius, the tip of his lips rising. “Poor Peter hasn’t made a move to his girl yet, won’t be able to ask for a place to stay. He will be left in the corridor with us until further instruction. His girlie will come back to be second priority again,” he chuckles. “I believe they’ll take less than two weeks, padfoot, and at least we’ll be together. Peter is a bit of a coward but he’ll be with us in difficult, different from a certain someone that chooses a girl over his mates”

“Hey!” exclaim yn “I’m not only any girl out there! I thought we were a hecking team, all friends” her face turned to the boys. She was making an angry face, but clearly was feigning it. Her face tilted to her right, since she was near the end of the bed. James was on the doorframe of the bathroom and Sirius on the wall aside him.

“And you’re on the team dove, but when you and our dear moony assume your relationship, we’ll be left to the leftovers, to the rags, easily forgotten. You two will spend all day doing nerd things together”

“What a drama” exclaimed yn, coming back to her game with Remus.

“Knowing that, I bet three days Prongs, two galleons” he extended his arm to James, who happily clast his hands on his “Deal” said Potter “Deal,” mimic him Black, shaking James’ hands.

“We’re listening,” shout Remus from his bed.

“You lot are two idiots,” said yn “I’ve many things to say about that but I’ll not lose my time”

“I say the same yn” continued Lupin.

“We’re visioners,” reply both boys in unison, chuckling together after noticing their synchronicity.

“You lot don’t say nothing back because it’s true. Simple as 2 plus 2,” pronounce James.

Remus low his feet and yn dramatically pushed her head towards the pillow behind her, complaining about the game had been interrupted due a dog and a stag that don’t know how to stop talking. Moony tossed the closest cushions at the boys. The first one hit Sirius’ face and the second landed on James’ shoulder, as the last boy tried to dodge the cushion.

“Ouch moony, you once were more delicate with us,” said Sirius, faking a pouty. James chuckled, holding his hoodie on his forearm.

“I was never delicate with you all,” his gaze change to yn. “Well, never with you boys,” he continued, smirking.

“Moony has gone completely doolally for yn!” singsonged Sirius, sprinting towards the door before receiving another cushion on his face.

“Haha, look! He is all gooey-eyed over her!” continued James behind Sirius.

Remus groaned, palms on his face. “Can you two just shut up and leave?!”

Yn laughed a bit, but ceased after the door was locked again. She seated applesauce on his bed, caressing his calves. “Hey, look at me Remmy”

Lupin peaked between his fingers. “They’re two dorks. Will you really let their teasing end with our afternoon?”

The boy beamed, palms coming to the bed while he seated like her, one in front of the other, “You’re right darling, let’s walk a bit, shall we?” asked he smiling with his hands gently squeezing hers.

“Sure, was waiting for you to ask since they entered here.” They both grinned like idiots to one another.

Yn gets off his bed and, before he does the same, she quickly turns to Remus again. “It looks like will start snowing soon. Could you borrow me your sweater, Remmy?” He nodded, smiling.

“Sure dove, you can choose whenever you want,” “Thanks love” said Yn as she went to search on his truck.

“Gosh, He’s lost the plot, and she’s the main character now,” said Lily gazing into some tree’s direction

“What?” asked Marlene.

“Look they two,” the red-haired pointed.

Under the tree near the lake, one could see a very pleasant Remus receiving caressing from Yn, the girl’s fingers playing along his curls. His eyes closed, but they both were talking. Some books gathered around them, clearly forgotten some time ago. He was holding the other hand — the one which was not on his head. Here and there, he kissed her palm absently. She smile even further to him and he peeked out through his eyes to watch her smile, only to close it back and they come back to talk.

James tsk a bit before calling Sirius, who was talking with some Ravenclaw in a not so distant pillar.

“What’s up mate?” he inquire while quickly squeezing the girls’ shoulders as a greeting.

“Look up there,” James pointed.

“Ew, still in deny?” James nodded as a response.

“You know, I really think they haven’t done anything at all,” she pronounced the last sentence smoothly, the words flowing like music from her tongue. “They are too slow, but… You know, it’s Yn and Remus we’re talking. It’s expected.”

“Yeah, I agree with you, red one. Let them be. One day, they’ll take action. Even if it’s on the graduation day’“

“Now you were mean Mars,” said Sirius, grinning.

“Nope, I was honest Black” They both smile to each other.

“So… we don’t try to push or help? We let them be? Like, taking their own time?” inquired Peter, a confusing expression taking on his face.

“I think we should help,” said James confidently.

“No, we shouldn’t” interrupted Lily and Marlene together, Sirius a bit behind.

“I actually think it’ll be funny to follow their path, watching their doing their own thing,” Finished Sirius grinning, a proud expression on his face.

Hi! Hope you lot have enjoyed the reading.

I write this near midnight so if it has any mistake my former apologies.

kisses to all, bye!

[tipsynight0]

For the life we never knew

Parings- Jeff the killer x female reader

Word count - 975

TRIGGER WARNING - Miscarriage, blood, grief, child loss, trauma.

Summary - a quiet night takes a devastating turn.

Authors note - As you can probably tell, I’m not your typical Creepypasta fanfiction writer. My stories lean more toward real-life experiences—raw, messy, and unfiltered. Writing has always been more for me than anything else, a way to process what I can’t always say out loud. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism, maybe it’s just a need to put pain into words.

I know I haven’t updated in a while, and for that, I’m sorry. Life has a way of pulling us under when we least expect it. But for those of you still here, reading and supporting, thank you. It means more than I can express.

I guess I’ve always found comfort in heartbreak—in taking a story and twisting it until it feels real enough to leave a mark. So, as you read this, don’t be afraid to cry, to feel. That’s what it’s meant for. And maybe, when you’re done, we’ll both feel just a little less alone.

Hopefully, I’ll have more for you soon. Until then, take care of yourselves—and try not to cry too much.

Becoming a dad was never on the radar for Jeff. Not for someone like him—a serial killer with bloodstained hands and years of unresolved trauma. Jeff wasn’t the kind of man who would teach his kid how to throw a ball or give them advice on their first crush. Hell, he barely had any idea how to take care of himself. But when Y/N came to him that day, clutching the pregnancy test in trembling hands, terror written all over her face—not the kind of fear he was used to, the kind he relished in—it was different. This fear was raw, uncertain, vulnerable. And for the first time, Jeff felt it too.

The conversation that followed wasn’t pretty. There was shouting, tears, accusations, and a silence so heavy it crushed them both. But somewhere in that mess of emotions, there was a spark—something small and fragile. A seed of hope Jeff never thought he’d feel.

As the days turned into weeks, that seed began to grow. The thought of a child, their child, burrowed its way into Jeff’s cold, damaged heart. He found himself imagining things he never thought possible: a tiny hand gripping his finger, a toothless smile, a giggle that echoed in the halls of the mansion. He didn’t just start to accept it; he started to want it.

The house was alive with a strange excitement. Even the others couldn’t help but marvel at the idea of another child joining them—another innocent soul like Sally. Jack stole prenatal vitamins and a doppler, and Jeff had spent hours with Y/N listening to the faint sound of their baby’s heartbeat. He painted the nursery himself, his hands steady in a way they’d never been before. For once, the chaos of their lives didn’t seem so suffocating.

And then came the night that shattered it all.

Jeff barely stirred when Y/N slipped out of bed. She’d been getting up a lot lately, her small trips to the bathroom almost routine. He was half-asleep when he heard her call out, her voice trembling with something he couldn’t quite place.

“Jeff... come here... something’s wrong.”

The fear in her voice jolted him awake. He stumbled out of bed, heart pounding as he rushed to the bathroom. The sight that met him stopped him cold.

Y/N was sitting on the floor, her hands trembling and slick with blood. It was everywhere—on her thighs, pooling on the tiles, staining her nightshirt. Jeff’s breath hitched, his stomach turning in a way he hadn’t felt since the first time he took a life. Blood was supposed to excite him, but this... this made him want to vomit.

“I’ll... I’ll be back,” he stammered, his voice cracking in a way that felt foreign and wrong. “I’ll get Jack. Don’t move, Y/N. Don’t move.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, didn’t dare look back. He sprinted down the stairs, nearly tripping in his panic. He found Jack in the kitchen, dragging him by the arm before the other man could even ask what was happening. His words tumbled out, frantic and disjointed, but Jack didn’t need an explanation when he saw the scene for himself.

Jack knelt beside Y/N, his usually steady hands trembling ever so slightly as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Stand up,” he said softly. “I need to see.”

Y/N obeyed, her body shaking as she clung to Jack for support. Jeff stayed rooted to the doorway, his nails digging into the wood as if it could somehow anchor him to reality.

Jack’s expression was grim as he straightened, his voice heavy when he finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

The words hit Jeff like a physical blow. Y/N let out a strangled sob, her knees buckling as Jack caught her and eased her to the floor. Jeff moved without thinking, dropping to his knees beside her and grabbing her hand.

“No,” Jeff muttered, shaking his head. “No, no, no. This—this isn’t happening. Fix it, Jack. Do something.”

Jack looked at him, his hollow eyes filled with something that almost resembled pity. “There’s nothing I can do, Jeff. It’s already happening.”

Y/N’s grip on Jeff’s hand tightened, her face pale and glistening with tears. “Jeff... it’s my fault,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“Don’t,” he said sharply, his voice cracking. “Don’t you dare say that. This isn’t your fault.”

She sobbed harder, her free hand clutching her stomach as another wave of pain wracked her body. Jeff could only watch, helpless and furious, as the person he cared about most suffered in a way he couldn’t stop.

Time seemed to crawl, every second dragging like a knife through Jeff’s chest. He wasn’t supposed to care like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel this kind of pain. But as Y/N finally passed the tiny, lifeless form of what could have been their child, Jeff felt something inside him shatter.

He stared at the tiny, fragile thing Jack gently took away, his chest heaving as he fought to keep the scream building inside him at bay. Y/N was limp against him now, her strength spent, her sobs quieted into hollow, hitching breaths.

Jeff pressed his forehead to hers, his hand still gripping hers tightly as though letting go would mean losing her too. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

In that moment, he hated himself more than he ever thought possible. He wasn’t supposed to care, wasn’t supposed to feel this. But as he held Y/N and felt the life drain from the future they’d dared to hope for, Jeff realized that maybe, just maybe, he’d wanted to be a dad after all.

And now, he never would be.

[antinousletmehit]

hello! May I pls request a (fem or gn whatever you’d like) making Odysseus to sleep after finding out he hasn’t for a while (and maybe like taking care o him or hurt/comfort idk) no problem if not, thx!

୨୧┇pairing: Odyssues x reader

୨୧┇enjoy!!

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

You found him in the courtyard, seated on a low stone bench under the silver glow of the moon. His sword rested at his side, his hands gripping it as if he expected another ambush at any moment. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his shoulders slumped under the invisible burden of years spent fighting and wandering.

“Odysseus,” you called softly, stepping into the cool night air.

His head turned sharply, the warrior in him ready for an enemy. But when he saw you, his gaze softened. “It’s late,” he said, his voice gravelly. “You should be asleep.”

“I could say the same to you,” you replied, approaching him and sitting beside him on the bench. “When’s the last time you rested?” He chuckled humorlessly, running a hand through his unruly hair. “Rest doesn’t come easy after everything I’ve been through. My mind refuses to quiet.”

You frowned, your heart aching for him. This man had endured so much, war, betrayal, storms, gods, and now, even in his moment of triumph, he couldn’t find peace. “Odysseus,” you said gently, placing a hand on his arm. “You’ve done enough. The suitors are gone, our family is safe, your home is yours again. You don’t have to fight anymore.”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “There’s always something to fight for. Something to protect. I can’t let my guard down, not yet.”

“You’re no use to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion,” you countered, your tone firm but kind.

He glanced at you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

“I learned from the best,” you teased, earning a quiet laugh from him.

Standing, you held out your hand. “Come with me.”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing. “Where?”

“To bed,” you said simply.

His eyes widened slightly, cheeks flushed, and you rolled your eyes. “Not like that. You need sleep, Odysseus. Proper sleep, in a proper bed. And I’m not leaving until I’m sure you’re resting.”For a moment, he looked like he might argue. But then he sighed, the weight of his fatigue finally catching up to him. He took your hand, allowing you to guide him inside.

You led him to his chamber, the one he hadn’t truly claimed since returning home. The bed was freshly made, the linens soft and inviting, but it still seemed foreign to him. “Lie down,” you instructed, pulling the covers back.

He gave you a weary look. “You’re bossier than Athena.”

“And yet, here you are listening to me,” you quipped, crossing your arms.

With a low chuckle, he obeyed, lowering himself onto the bed. His body seemed to sink into the mattress, and you could almost see the tension in his muscles begin to loosen. You pulled the covers over him, smoothing them out with care. “Close your eyes,” you murmured.

He hesitated again, but the exhaustion in his gaze won out. His eyes fluttered shut, and you sat beside him, your fingers brushing through his hair in slow, soothing strokes. “Stay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised.

Minutes passed, the room silent except for the sound of his breathing. Gradually, his tense expression softened, his breaths growing deeper and steadier. For the first time in what felt like forever, Odysseus slept.

You stayed there, watching over him as he had watched over so many others. And as the moonlight bathed the room in its gentle glow. You were happy he’s finally home, and in your arms like it was always meant to be

[silentstyx]

hello!! I saw that you wanted some percy req and I’ve been dying to read more so, may I request percy x reader fluff of reader suprising him with a visit (since they live away) on christmas please?

I'll Be Home For Christmas

tw! neck kisses. percy threatens to shove his tongue down your throat guys. his pretty girl is sorta mean guys!!

guys i hate the colors for the title. but oh well! also i could like only true think of this as hc's idk sorry chat 😖

uh i was eepy when i wrote this and completely strayed but i still like this but yeah, nothing like the req and im super sorry!!! im slow!

ugh logan lerman is so UGH.

okay so like we all know that you can leave for your family during holidays.

you didn't really have anywhere to go so you planned to stay while your boyfriend, percy, went to his mothers house.

you've met his mom already, she loved you, and you've been to his house.

as you were sitting on the bed in the poseidon cabin as he packed, he got out another suitcase in your favorite color!!!

"ya wanna come home with me for christmas, pretty?" he said with a small smile. he was very obviously a *tad* nervy.

you smiled at his stupid nervous attitude, " 'course i will, stupid." you say as you hug him.

he hugs you back, wrapping his arms around the small of your back and putting his face in your neck, mumbling " 'm not stupid..."

ugh sally is so ecstatic to have you over (she loves you so so much guys. more than percy does.)

decorating blue cookies by making snow flakes on them.

decorating the christmas tree blue with them!!

my fav blue fanatics guys!!

idk if you find out how to make blue hot chocolate percy's gonna shove his tongue down your throat.

cuddles as you three watch stupid cheesy christmas movies.

perseus makes you a burr basket with a bunch of cute christmas stuff!!! (candle with like a peppermint scent, gingerbread cookies, blanket, slippers, beanie, stuffie, etc.)

i like lwk think he gets super cold super fast so if its like below 65 degrees he's shivering. SHIVERING.

guys he constantly talks about missing summer.

omg he picks you up (like in the pic) to put the star on the tree !!

sally lets yall sleep in the same room and bed with the exception the door stays open.

when he gets 'cold' while sleeping in his room he cuddles up to you, crushing you, then starts kissing your neck ??

he inches closer to you, more and more weight being pressed onto your shoulder. "perce? baby, you're crushin me." you mumbled to him.

he doesn't respond and he instead gets closer, wrappin his arms 'round your neck, he starts to shiver and pulls more blankets on the both of you. he mumbles into your neck, "ugh, pretty, 'm so freezin' . its like -1000 degrees in here. someone tell persephone to come back or demeter to calm down."

you snicker at his little ramble about being chilly, "i completely agree. we're all furious with hades right now."

he nods before he starts kissing your neck.

"how does this help with you stay warm, my love?" you giggle as you speak.

"keeps ya super warm and relaxed..." he mumbled against your skin before continuing his assault on your neck.

he bought you like 20 things for christmas. all stuff you wanted but didn't tell him.

you're almost certain annabeth and sally listened to what you said and he just asked them what you wanted.

either way you love all your stuff and whatever you gift him he loves.

"but you're my favorite present this year"

anyways, highly recommended to be dating perseus jackson during christmas !!

[thecourtjester-e]

Do You Have to Let it Linger? Part 4

A/N: y’all wanted a twist? (Short chapter the end is near)

CW: substance abuse, angst, yearning, depression, anger issues

SCHLATT POV

“GOD, you can be so STUPID.”

As soon as he said it he froze. He tossed the phone onto the table and put his head in his hands. As he heard the phone hangup from the table he felt like he couldn’t move. His face started to burn as anger rose up in his chest. He looked for the nearest victim to aim this mindless rage at. He picked up a controller and chucked it as hard as he could across the room. He could feel the tightness in his chest rise and tears threaten their way into his eyes. God, he hated that he let himself do that. Why the FUCK did he do that???? Schlatt’s frustration from the week all culminated into this moment. The confusion of why y/n had ignored him for a whole week, racking his brain to remember every little thing he did and said to you at the wedding for some explanation. And all to find out it was because you like him and you think he doesn’t like you back. It made him mad. You couldn’t be further off.

In the beginning of your friendship the flirting had been for fun. He did think you were stunning, but it was all in jest, at first. It slowly grew into a real blooming friendship beyond the clicks and views he genuinely grew fond of you. Your personality, your quirks, and little traits. He would watch to boost numbers, but then he found himself tuning into your streams on his second account to just watch. He found your voice entrancing and the way you moved and danced hypnotizing.

He couldn’t believe that you thought he didn’t feel the same. The fact that you had a “big fat crush” on him was enough to make his heart jump, do a backflip, and fall out of his ass. He was so dumbfounded that you couldn’t see how crazy he is about you.

At first he grappled with his own fear and uncertainty, could he let someone in in this way? Was it worth it? You guys lived so far apart. Not to mention how public it could all get and the bombardment from the fans. He was terrified. As the days turned to a week his fear turned into intense longing and pain. Pain knowing how he had hurt you. He missed your constant communication that he had grown to rely on in a way. He just missed hearing you and seeing you. How your smile lights up rooms and your raw charisma enchants all who watch. He couldn't stop seeing you up there singing at the wedding. And how you smiled at him while laughing and dancing. The memories practically uncorked the bottle themselves. Minimal resistance was found when lifting it to his mouth. Each sip felt easier and easier.

Ted called sometime during the second week while the bottle was half drunk. Interrupting his quiet stalking of your stream.

“Schlatt.”

“What.”

“You gotta tell her man,” Ted pleads. He had been bothering Schlatt to spill his heart since the wedding. Then, even more so after this whole ordeal. It tired and aggravated him.

“No dude.”

“Jared Schlathew,” Schlatt scowled at the nickname as Ted continued, “I know we’ve known each other a while, but I’ve known Y/N longer. I’m going to have to tell her soon man I can’t keep listening to her heart break like this.”

“Ted, I sweartgod, if you tell her you won’t hear from me again. Ever,” he slurred and sipped.

“I don’t understand the big deal!”

Schlatt cuts him off, “I can’t, Ted, I fucking can’t! I already hurt her man, who’s to say I won’t just hurt her further or… I don’t know! I’m no good for her. She deserves someone better. She deserves to get over me…”

Ted sighs, “Schlatt, genuinely, you are one of the most kind hearted individuals I've had the pleasure of meeting-” Schlatt scoffs, “You have a rough exterior, yes, but I’ve seen how she melts your icy shell. I wouldn’t allow you anywhere near Y/N if I didn't think you deserved her, man. But I truly do think you are one of the greatest people I get to call a friend. So please, skip the angst, and get on a plane.”

As he hung up he turned your stream back on. Your presence was much duller than your normal effervescent self. He studied at the screen while you absentmindedly answered the chat.

“Ok, well I have another cover I’ve been working on so,” you sit up with your guitar a little better and begin to play “High and Dry” by Radiohead. Through his drunken haze, Schlatt sat and listened to you sing as if you were speaking directly to him.

“Fuck it.” Schlatt opened his phone and booked a flight.

———

[cutthroatcarnival]

Shadows Settle On The Place You Left

A story of how two becomes one.

Read it on AO3!

Warning for: Major Character Death

This fic will include many things that go hand-in-hand with being a lab/experimentation AU, such as: mentions of blood and needles, experimentation (unethical), cruelty (in form of tests, limiting food intake, sleep deprivation, beatings, electrocution, etc.), hallucinations.

Inspired by: Take My Wallet by Jack Stauber

Title from: Youth by Daughter

The Project X AU belongs to @gtwscratch! Go check her out to learn more about this super cool AU- I’ve got a few more fics lined up for this idea… [rubs hands together like a scheming villain]. Also this was written really early on in the AU, so any new things Scratch has posted will not be reflected here (in later ones, yes).

—————————————————————————

Everyday was the same. The walls never changed, remaining devoid of anything but violent, ghastly white. Following the same routine over and over, listening to the same horrific screaming and wailing echoing from deeper in the facility. The definition of insanity is doing something over and over again, in hopes of a different result, and by that definition, Impulse could call himself insane. Doing the same routine over and over, hoping for change, hoping for an escape, hoping for this clinical hell to be over. Trapped here in this room, chillingly empty without the presence of his cellmate- but hey, at least the beds had mattresses. Maybe if he focused on that, he could block out the pained screams of his cellmate coming from one of the labs.

Impulse stared at his hands, mesmerized and sickened by the swirling purple that traveled down his arms to his legs, twisting into and around scars. He could call himself lucky just as easily as he could call himself insane, but it felt horrifically unfair- yes, he was lucky, his new attributes could be easily hidden (they weren’t getting out of here. They’re trapped). If only he could stop hearing the sounds of his own wailing echoing and the sounds of the file roughly shaping his horns into sharp points, stop feeling phantom pains from restraints digging into him as he struggled and the panic felt as ghost needles stabbed into his arms. If only.

There were seventeen others trapped here with him, Impulse never quite learned what happened to one of them- Mumbo, a pale, lanky male with dark eyes and black hair, and a frankly glorious mustache- Mumbo and Scar had been dragged away one day for more testing, and only the latter had returned, trembling with haunted eyes, spattered with blood. Impulse wasn’t stupid, he knew what that meant. It had been months- or what Impulse thought was months, time was pointless when you didn’t have a clock- since Scar had talked again, but when he did, it lacked the cheerfulness they were all so used to. Their hope dwindled more after that.

One steady remainder of hope for Impulse was his cellmate, Skizz. The two of them were inseparable, fighting to keep some semblance of their identities and previous life. While it helped, it also became their weakness; if a scientist wanted something from Impulse or Skizz, all they had to do was threaten the other. When they couldn’t sleep, whether from the horrors of the day or fear of the other disappearing, Skizz would tell stories- weird, wacky stories that were a welcome distraction. One of Impulse’s favorites was the story of a giraffe lifting weights, it was so outlandish it had made Impulse forget the agony he was in from that particular test, laughing so hard his stomach hurt instead.

Impulse noticed early on that the scientists didn’t like Skizz. They were rougher with him- not that they were gentle Impulse or the others- dragging him behind, laughing as Skizz struggled to stand and follow- a failure, that’s what they called him. All Impulse could do was watch as his best friend returned each day with more and more injuries- deep bruises and lacerations and scars that added to the collection already decorating his body. They even started to lessen the amount of food Skizz was allowed, even when the amount they had regularly was too little, but Impulse happily shared his own with him. And even while suffering through all these extra tests, Skizz never showed signs of his powers manifesting- so in retaliation to their own failure, the scientists got crueler. Void, Impulse hated the sleep experiments the most, where Skizz would become so sleep-deprived he began to hallucinate and stare through Impulse, mumbling about how the Boogeyman was after him, a haunting purple in his peripheral, always just out of sight, refusing to leave Skizz alone until his blood was spilled.

Days had passed, from what Impulse could gather, and there was still no return of Skizz. An uneasy feeling was eating at him, usually people returned after a while, but his best friend was still missing. He could feel his mind drift to Mumbo, how it was unknown what had happened to the man. Impulse could piece things together easily- Scar’s haunted look, the blood, oh void, the blood- and the picture was not pretty. With no way of getting information, he would rather not be shocked for speaking out of turn to a scientist, Impulse went through his routine. Day after day, hour after hour, rinsing and repeating over and over. There was one small hiccup in his routine; none of them had been taken away for more tests. While not unusual, having a quiet period so soon after the previous one made his skin crawl. And the screams. No longer did they echo down the halls. All that filled them was an eerie quiet, interrupted only by the murmuring of the other patients as they were allowed to move about their designated common room.

No matter how early Impulse’s powers had appeared, he still couldn’t quite grasp them in full- teleportation was simple, so was the swapping, but that was all done when he could see. They wanted him to teleport to a place he couldn’t. When the test was demanded of him, Impulse was blindfolded with a thick wrapping of gauze, leaving him unaware and jumpy. Then there was the cold, sharp prod of something, something very clearly meant to hurt, coupled with a faint buzzing- every muscle in his body failed to keep him upright, he had collapsed in a panicked heap, tearing at the gauze and yelping when electricity coursed through him. What did they want from them? Was this entertainment?

The clank of a dish being set in front of him brought him back to the present, the grim memories leaving a sour taste in the back of his mouth. Humming in thanks at Scott, who gave Impulse a wobbly smile in return, like he had forgotten how to do so. Impulse dug into the bland oatmeal- if it could even be called that, lip lifting in a light sneer at the slop. A reaction that would normally be met with a snicker, yet the seat next to him was painfully cold, devoid of its occupant who had been unseen for probably what had been days, if not weeks.

An angry shout from a scientist sent Impulse into a panic, forcing him to drop his spoon with a clatter as he slipped under the table, watching as the others made themselves similarly sparse. Another voice joined, and no matter how hard Impulse strained he couldn’t hear the conversation. A sharp intake of breath snapped his attention to the table next to him, where one of the blondes- Martyn, he reminded himself- was hiding under, hands clenched over his ears. Martyn. Martyn could hear them. Impulse felt an unsettling chill creep up his spine as he watched horror slowly creep over the blonde’s face, and when his tears started to flow over, Impulse’s own nearly did too. Time seemed to freeze as haunted blue eyes locked with frightened brown, lips forming two simple words; I’m sorry, before Martyn curled in tighter on himself. Impulse was left to stare at the other’s shaking form, mind frozen as he processed the words. I’m sorry. He looked back at Martyn. The blonde’s lips were moving, repeating a phrase that Impulse couldn’t quite place. Martyn looked ill, as he rocked there under that table, hands that were once muffling his hearing now grabbing at his hair.

As the voices disappeared, Impulse shifted, starting to maneuver himself out from under the table- he only had so much time to eat- until a weight crashed into him. Taken by surprise, he tipped sideways out from under the table, narrowly missing one of the chairs with his head. On top of him was Martyn, and Impulse raised an inquisitive eyebrow, only to be met with a sob. There were words falling from the other’s lips, but even this close, Impulse couldn’t hear them. Martyn shuddered, fisting the fabric of Impulse’s gown tighter, before inhaling and exhaling, bringing himself from the brink of hyperventilating. Pained blue stared into brown, eyes telling a melancholy tale.

“Skizz is dead.” Martyn declared, in the smallest, most defeated voice Impulse had ever heard from the other.

What.

“What?” Impulse could hear how his own voice was so small, breathy with disbelief. Skizz was dead? His best friend was dead?

“They said he was a failure, too weak to handle the tests,” the grip on his gown loosened, “they wanted to give him wings, but his body couldn’t handle it.”

Murmuring rose from the other patients that had gathered, all in various stages of grief and disbelief. Impulse was frozen on the floor, eyes wide as he stared at Martyn. Skizz is dead. The words kept repeating in his mind, a mantra that infected his brain. His best friend couldn’t be dead. He wasn’t. He wasn’t. Impulse felt all sorts of conflicted, experiencing every emotion in the book and then some, all because of three simple words; Skizz is dead. The following information that Martyn poured out finally made its way into his brain- his body couldn’t handle it. Skizz is dead.

The world around him shattered.

“Is he… he’s gone?” The tile beneath Impulse felt colder than it ever had. Colder than the metal of the examination table. Colder than the scientists. Even his heart felt cold, frozen, even, as Impulse felt his heart shatter.

“He’s really gone?” Above him, Martyn nodded, and Impulse broke. The world around him disappeared as static and ringing sounded in his ears, drowning out the noise of his own sobs. Never again would he see Skizz, because Skizz was gone. His best friend was gone, and Impulse never got to say goodbye. And didn’t that sting? Didn’t that just twist the knife that had already cut his heart into ribbons? Impulse would never hear that infectious positivity and optimism, even in the face of horrific experimentation, because the scientists had taken it- had taken him away from Impulse. They called Skizz a failure, telling him he was too weak, and those were probably the last things Skizz heard, alone on a cold operating table- nothing but biting, burning remarks. So lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed Martyn roll off of him, or being helped up and guided to his cell. His empty, empty cell. One that would never be full again. And you know what they say about one; it’s the loneliest number you’ll ever know.

[thatonedogart]

Did someone say Mouthwashing AU??? NO??? WELL THATS TOO BAD!! [open full screen for high res]

Welcome to my version of Mouthwashing, where we find out what happens if curly didn’t burn to near completion and instead suffered from a minor (major) breakage of his mental well being while still being par cooked like a fillet

ITS CABIN FEVER BABY!

Watch out Jimmy, those responsibility are gonna start piling up.

Now please enjoy some in AU cannon writing Drabble from the wonderful nurse Anya

Curly

“I can’t feel it anymore, I can only feel you, rotting in the back of my mind.”

Captain Curly, one seriously stubborn patient. Between ripping off his bandages and being insistent on disobeying bed rest orders he makes for an exhausting handful. That’s not even mentioning the side effects from the oxycodone.

-took away his boots, not only were they burned but he’d most likely break an ankle

-not that he’s said much but the current change in appearance is upsetting him

-don’t mention the small bald spot and grey hairs growing in from the explosion

-he barely makes sense, waking in stints of 2-3 hour intervals

Jimmy

“He’s clearly lost his mind. Don’t listen to him.”

Current head captain of the ship, Jimmy, doesn’t allow anyone to check him over since the crash. With curly waking up he’s only become more irritated, keeps suggesting curly needs more medication. Maybe it’s stressing him out to see his ex captain and friend in such a state of harm?

-still wears clothes from day of the crash despite barely washing the blood out

-stated multiple times curly had lost his mind and tried to attack him

-frankly I don’t want him in this office, even if he was hurt

-curly doesn’t tolerate his presence anymore

[no longer allowed to give the patient his meds or provide assistance]

Daisuke

“Everything’s fine. Right? Right. Everything is fine.”

Jittery anxious intern, very welcoming to any and all needed checkups. It’s clear he’s suffering from some developed anxiety disorder, the stress of the situation is becoming to dire. Aside from spraining an ankle on the day of the crash he’s been in perfect physical health.

-rarely seen above deck since Curly started waking up

-now hoarding most of the small adhesive bandages as he’s been biting his nails

-still up for small chat but something is definitely keeping him wired

-“the hello kitty ones are the best” said the bandage thief

Swansea

“I’ve seen too much bad shit happen in long hauls before, leave me out of this.”

Our master mechanic Swansea, has had zero things to report to medical. Always clear and straight to the point he wants to be left out of the fuss. Especially with the current conflict between our captains.

I wonder what his family thinks of him.

-conversations are rare

-most of his time is preoccupied with the master controls in the cockpit and Daisuke

-had a momentary relapse with alcohol before curly started waking up

-our weakest moments are not our proudest but it doesn’t change who we are

Anya

“When you wake up from a bad dream, the dream is supposed to end.”

Nurse Anya, nothing to report. Taking care of curly has been my top priority, fatigued and strained I may be but I swore I would help people.

-nauseous, no medication on board to help

-exhausted, curly keeps me up even if I manage to fall asleep

-could really use a hot shower

-it feels ridiculous making notes on my own self.

[soleilpinto]

What they Lost (Oscar Piastri) ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆

“I’ve been noticing you lately,” ⋆.˚୧☆˙📙˚꩜

Synopsis: You despised the constant feeling that no one was on your side because of the social hierarchy at your school, but thankfully, you had Oscar by your side to make it all a little more bearable.

Genre: Angst, Comfort

AU: Highschool!au

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x GN!reader

Warnings: Emotional damage (jk idk), nothing else

Note: Hey gang, this was a fic that was sitting in my google docs for god knows how long and I just decided to give it a new life. This was lowkey originally a Mingyu from SVT fic but I changed it to Oscar. The whole consensus of this was the shit I experienced 2 years ago when I had a falling out with a couple friends of mine. Anyways, enjoy Oscar and how much of a sweetheart he is, and don’t forget to like + reblog!

You let out a sigh, resting your head on the desk as the bell rang, signaling the start of your break.

The lively chatter of your classmates filled the room, but it all blurred into the background as you slowly closed your eyes.

Despite the crowded classroom buzzing with life, a hollow sense of loneliness lingered within you, accompanied by an unmistakable boredom.

By now, the feeling had become your new normal. You had a group of friends, but lately, it didn’t feel that way. Ever since the growing sense of alienation crept in, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being left out.

You lifted your head slowly, glancing over at your friends. They were engrossed in their own conversations, too preoccupied to notice you.

Deciding it wasn’t worth the effort, you let your head sink back onto the desk, passing the time in silence.

There was a time when you were the lively one—chatty and cheerful, your bright smile lighting up every room. But those days felt like a distant memory now.

Over time, you had conditioned yourself to embrace solitude, finding a bittersweet comfort in your own company.

It was a sad reality; you used to hate being alone. But people change, and as the weeks passed, you had grown quieter, retreating into yourself little by little.

The cheerful conversations and bursts of laughter from your friends echoed around you, but you chose to tune them out, keeping to yourself.

No one ever really noticed you anyway—not when you were always stuck in their shadows.

They were the popular ones, the ones everyone gravitated toward, while you were just... there. A tagalong, invisible in their glow.

A minute passed before you suddenly felt a hand rest gently on your shoulder. Turning to see who it was, you found yourself face-to-face with Oscar Piastri, an old acquaintance from your elementary school days.

"Are you okay? You looked a bit lonely, and I thought you might need some company," he said softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

For a moment, your heart seemed to stop. You fought back the sudden urge to cry on the spot.

You hated being the reason someone worried about you, but the truth was, you were utterly burnt out, dreading every moment you spent at school.

"I'm alright," you replied, forcing a weak laugh.

"I mean, I could be better, but there's not much I can do about it." The humorless tone in your voice betrayed how you really felt.

Whatever was going on with your friends was only part of what you were dealing with, but there was no way you could unload all of that on Oscar. It felt far too personal to share.

“If you’re not feeling okay, you can always talk to me,” he said with a warm chuckle. “I’m not the best at giving advice, but I can always listen.”

“You sure?” you asked, forcing a small smile in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I mean, I don’t want to bother you. It’s... a lot.”

But Oscar didn’t waver, his expression steady and resolute. “I’m sure,” he replied firmly, his sincerity impossible to ignore.

Just as you were about to respond, the proctor for your next exam had walked in, and Oscar quickly had to rush back to his seat.

Before he left, he turned back and said softly, “We’ll talk later, okay?”

You nodded, watching him go, and for the first time in what felt like ages, a small smile crept onto your face.

It was a moment in passing, but you realized just how long it had been since you’d smiled like that—genuinely.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, you packed your things and headed out of the room.

Your friends didn’t even glance your way, their laughter and chatter continuing as if you didn’t exist. It stung, but you had grown used to it by now.

Walking down the hallway alone, you kept your head down, blending into the crowd. Suddenly, you heard someone call your name, a voice cutting through the noise.

Turning around, you saw Oscar jogging toward you, a grin spread across his face. “Hey, wait up!” he called, catching his breath as he reached you.

“Thought I’d lost you in the sea of people,” he teased, falling into step beside you.

His cheerful energy was infectious, and for a moment, you forgot about the loneliness that had been weighing you down.

As the two of you exited the school gates, Oscar stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Alright, I’ve got an idea,” he said.

“Oh no,” you joked. “Should I be worried?”

“Not at all,” he replied, grinning even wider. “There’s this racing sim arcade not too far from here. Ever been?”

You shook your head, intrigued. “Can’t say I have.”

“Perfect,” Oscar said, his enthusiasm unmistakable.

“I’ll show you the ropes. It’s about time I gave you a glimpse into my world of Formula racing.”

Before you knew it, the two of you were on your way, Oscar leading the charge. The racing sim arcade was bustling with energy, the sounds of engines roaring and cheers filling the air.

Oscar wasted no time, guiding you to a simulator.

“Alright, rookie,” he said, flashing a playful smirk. “Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes to keep up with me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m warning you now—I’m terrible at this kind of thing.”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he said, sliding into the seat beside you. “Just follow my lead, and you’ll be fine.”

You found yourself laughing and having fun, the weight of the day melting away as Oscar patiently walked you through the controls and cheered you on through every twist and turn.

After a couple of exhilarating rounds at the racing sim arcade, the two of you finally decided to call it a day.

The sun was beginning to set as you stepped outside, the cool evening air brushing against your face.

“Alright,” Oscar said, stretching his arms above his head.

“Now that I’ve completely demolished you in racing, how about I make it up to you with dinner?”

“You demolished me?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Pretty sure I had you sweating on that last lap.”

“Sure, sure,” he said with a laugh, nudging your shoulder.

“Come on, I’ve got a place in mind.”

You followed him curiously, and to your surprise, he led you to your favorite restaurant. You stopped in your tracks, staring at the familiar sign.

“Wait… how do you know this is my favorite place?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

Oscar grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “I have my ways.”

“You’re suspiciously good at this,” you muttered, still surprised as you stepped inside.

Once seated, the two of you dove into your meals, the comfort of the food warming you from the inside out. For the first time in weeks, you felt at ease.

As you finished a bite, you glanced at Oscar, the question that had been lingering in your mind finally slipping out.

“So, why did you suddenly approach me today? You’ve known me for years, but you’ve never really gone out of your way like this before.”

Oscar looked down at his plate for a moment, his usual playful demeanor softening. “I’ve been noticing you lately,” he admitted quietly, meeting your gaze.

“You’re not the same person you used to be. You used to be so bright, always smiling, always so... you. But lately, you’ve seemed different—quieter, withdrawn.”

His words hit deeper than you expected, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the right words to respond.

“I didn’t want to overstep,” he continued, “but I figured someone had to check in on you. And I thought… well, maybe it could be me.”

You looked at him, surprised by his honesty.

The sincerity in his expression was impossible to ignore, and you felt something stir within you—a mix of gratitude and relief.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think anyone really noticed.”

Oscar gave you a small, reassuring smile.

“Well, I did. And for what it’s worth, I miss seeing you happy. So… if you ever need someone to remind you how great you are, I’m here.”

You hesitated for a moment, staring down at your plate as Oscar’s words sank in.

The vulnerability in his voice, the genuine concern in his eyes—it felt safe, like you could finally let go of the weight you’d been carrying.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice trembling just a little. “For noticing. And for caring. I guess… I haven’t really had anyone to talk to about this.”

Oscar tilted his head, his frown deepening slightly. “Why’s that? I mean, your friends—”

“They’re not really my friends anymore,” you interrupted, the words tasting bitter as they left your mouth.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

“They… they started spreading rumors about me, saying things that weren’t true. At first, it was little stuff, but then it just got worse. They twisted everything, made me out to be someone I’m not. And instead of asking me about it, they all just… decided I wasn’t worth being around anymore.”

Oscar’s brows furrowed, and his jaw tightened as you spoke. “Wait, are you serious? They just… turned on you like that?”

You nodded, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

“Yeah. I didn’t even realize what was happening until it was too late. By the time I tried to fix things, no one wanted to listen. I guess they all decided it was easier to just… believe the worst about me.”

Oscar leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as a frown settled on his face. “And you’ve been dealing with this all by yourself?”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” you admitted, your voice quieter now.

“I mean, who was I supposed to talk to? Everyone I thought I could count on was gone.”

Oscar shook his head, looking genuinely upset.

“That’s messed up. You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone. They weren’t your real friends if they could just drop you like that.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, your chest felt tight.

You hadn’t let yourself fully process how much their betrayal hurt, but hearing someone else say it out loud made it all feel more real.

“I guess I didn’t want to bother anyone,” you said with a weak shrug, trying to downplay the weight of it.

“Bother?” Oscar repeated, his tone sharp with disbelief. “You’re not a bother. You’re... you. And you deserve better than what they did to you.”

For a moment, you were too stunned to respond. His words were so firm, so certain, that they left no room for doubt.

“Thanks,” you finally whispered, a small smile creeping onto your face. “It means a lot that you’d say that.”

Oscar softened, his frown giving way to a gentle smile.

“Of course. You’re not alone in this, okay? I’ve got your back now. And if they can’t see how great you are, that’s their loss.”

The tightness in your chest began to ease, a weight lifting that you hadn’t even realized you were carrying.

Maybe you didn’t need those friends after all. Maybe having someone like Oscar in your corner was enough.

The next exam day arrived, and Oscar found you before the test began, reviewing with you in the quiet moments before the bell rang. His presence was reassuring, and his gentle guidance helped calm your nerves.

He stepped away for a moment to grab something, and it was then that your old friend group approached.

They didn’t even offer a greeting—just a curious, judgmental look that you immediately recognized.

“Hey, what’s with you and Oscar?” one of them asked, their tone dripping with disdain. “Why would someone like him waste his time hanging around someone like you?”

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach as the words stung.

They had always been the kind of people who looked down on others, but hearing them say it out loud, especially in this moment, felt almost suffocating.

“You know,” another one chimed in, “he could be hanging out with literally anyone else, but he’s with you. What’s the deal?”

Your pulse quickened, and despite the sudden rush of old emotions, you forced yourself to stay calm.

Oscar had already shown you that you didn’t need their approval. But it still hurt, their words laced with judgment, as if you were somehow undeserving of kindness or friendship.

Before you could respond, Oscar reappeared, catching the tail end of the conversation.

His eyes flicked from you to the group, and without missing a beat, he stood next to you, his presence instantly protective.

“Actually,” he said coolly, looking directly at your old friends, “I choose who I hang out with based on who’s worth my time. And you guys clearly aren’t.”

The words were sharp, final. There was no hesitation in his tone, no room for argument. Oscar didn’t wait for a response, just turned back to you with a reassuring smile.

“Ready for the exam?” he asked, as if nothing had happened.

You nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude and relief wash over you. In that moment, it became even clearer: you didn’t need their approval.

You didn’t need anyone who didn’t truly see you. Oscar, standing beside you, had proven that.

As the exam started, you couldn't help but glance over at Oscar, who caught your eye and offered a small, reassuring smile.

Just as you started to return it, the teacher's voice rang out sharply, snapping at Oscar for breaking the silence.

“Mr. Piastri," the teacher called, "Focus, please."

You both exchanged a quick, amused glance, and despite the seriousness of the situation, you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

It felt comforting to share that light moment, even in the midst of an exam.

When the exam finally ended, you felt a strange but welcome sense of relief wash over you.

The pressure that had been building throughout the test seemed to dissipate, but it wasn’t just the exam that left you feeling lighter.

It was the unexpected feeling of hope that began to settle in your chest, a quiet but persistent belief that maybe things were starting to shift in a better direction.

You’d made it through the morning without feeling the urge to cry, made it through the struggle with your friends, and somehow, you were still standing. That alone felt like a small victory.

Oscar noticed the change in your demeanor almost immediately. He leaned over with a grin, his eyes bright and full of that easy confidence you had come to appreciate.

“Hey,” he said, “How about we grab some lunch? My friends are hanging out nearby, and you could meet them if you want.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, curiosity piqued.

“Your friends?” you asked, already knowing how different they must be from the ones you used to know.

Oscar’s grin widened, and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Yeah, they’re not as bad as they look,” he teased. “I’m sure you’ll like them.”

A small part of you hesitated. Meeting new people was always a bit daunting, especially after everything you’d been through.

But the pull of Oscar’s company and the chance to get away from the weight of the day was too tempting to pass up.

Plus, after everything you’d been dealing with, it felt nice to take a chance on something—anything—that could offer a fresh start.

You followed him out of the classroom, the two of you chatting as you made your way to where his friends were hanging out.

When you arrived, they were gathered in a cozy corner of a nearby café, laughing and talking animatedly.

Oscar waved as he approached, his friends turning to greet him with wide smiles.

The introductions began smoothly, and you found yourself immediately drawn into the warmth of Oscar’s friends.

First was Logan, tall with broad shoulders and a casual confidence that was immediately apparent. His hair was a bit tousled, and his laid-back demeanor made you feel at ease right away.

He offered a firm handshake and a bright smile that lit up his face.

“Nice to meet you,” Logan said with a relaxed tone. “Oscar’s told us a lot about you.” His voice was easygoing.

Next was Arthur, a little quieter, yet no less inviting. With light, expressive eyes and a calm presence, he had a thoughtful gaze, as though he was taking in everything around him with care.

He gave you a warm smile, though it was a bit more reserved than Logan’s, and his mannerisms reflected a certain sincerity.

“It’s good to meet you. We finally get to meet the person Oscar’s been so worried about,” Arthur said jokingly, his French accent adding a certain charm to his words.

“I hope you’re enjoying the day so far.” His voice had a gentleness to it, and there was something grounding about his calm nature.

Finally, there was Lando. The moment he turned to face you, his playful grin was impossible to ignore.

With bright eyes and a mischievous spark, Lando had a presence that filled the room. His energy was contagious, and it seemed like he was always on the verge of cracking a joke.

As soon as he noticed you, he threw you a wink, clearly already preparing for some banter.

“Oscar’s lucky he has you here,” he said with a teasing smirk.

“Don’t let him get too full of himself, alright?” Lando’s quick wit and sarcastic humor made everyone around him laugh, and despite his cheeky comments, there was something charming and disarming about him.

His infectious energy made you feel like you could relax and have fun, as if you were already part of the group.

As you all sat down and began to talk, the conversation flowed effortlessly.

Oscar was the bridge, keeping things lighthearted and fun, but it was the warmth and openness of his friends that made the group feel comfortable to be around.

Logan was quick with stories about his latest adventures, while Arthur chimed in with dry humor and unexpected insights that had you laughing more than you expected.

Lando kept things moving with his endless jokes, keeping the vibe casual and light.

For the first time in what felt like ages, you didn’t feel like you were pretending to fit in. You weren’t on the outside looking in—you were part of the group, welcomed for who you were.

The walls you’d built up over time started to feel a little less necessary, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying the company of these new people.

They weren’t your old friends, but maybe that was a good thing. These were people who saw you, not the rumors or the mistakes others had decided defined you.

They saw you as you were—real, authentic, and ready to laugh.

By the time the afternoon ended, you realized that you hadn’t just made it through the day—you had genuinely connected with new people, and in doing so, you had found a piece of yourself that had been buried under the weight of everything else.

It was more than just a distraction; it was a new beginning.

As you parted ways with Oscar and his friends, a sense of quiet confidence settled in your chest. You didn’t need to cling to the past anymore, nor did you need the approval of the people who had abandoned you.

You were finding your place again, and with Oscar by your side, you knew that things could only get better from here.

© soleilpinto 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[theramblergal]

When writing a single word has become like pulling teeth, it's so fucking annoying. This took much longer than it should've, and it's not even my normal level of quality. This is goddamn agony.

*deep breath*

Anyways. Putting this under a cut because it's super long and most of my followers probably aren't interested.

@mrs-loitersack might you be interested in perusing this, friendo? It's a silly fix-it of the final fifteen in Good Omens. If the Metatrash hadn't made that stupid offer to Aziraphale.

The door to the bookshop closed shut. 

Oh, that bell. Crowley had heard it so many times: that sweet cadence, that exact same pitch, announcing the entrance of someone into Aziraphale’s bookshop. He had suspected for a long time, that it was in fact the exact same bell from Opening Day; now as to how exactly Aziraphale acquired that bell, well, that was an entirely different matter—

Distracted.

He was getting distracted.

Fuck. Was he really going to do this?

Now? 

He saw Aziraphale approach him from the corner of his eye. Crowley didn’t turn. He stared unseeingly at the little canvas in the corner. His heart was pounding in his chest. He was breathing raggedly. Which was stupid. He was a demon; this body—this, this… corporation was only a vessel. He was above all of this.

But Nina’s raised eyebrow greeted him from the corner of the canvas.

“You never say what you’re really thinking.”

Oh, for God’s sake. For Satan’s sake.

He yanked his sunglasses off his face and turned to face Aziraphale, who was smiling at him, hands nearly clasped together.

The words came tumbling out.

“Look, I suppose, um… I’ve got something to say.”

He still couldn’t raise his eyes to meet Aziraphale. They trailed the wooden floors, the books stacked rather haphazardly around, Aziraphale’s outfit, and then: his eyes. His Angel’s eyes. What was their colour? He had never been able to determine. Stop getting distracted, and look at him, a voice inside him hissed. Look at him while you say the words you haven’t said… ever.

“I know we ought to be talking about—it’s probably best if I start doing all the talking, you do all the listening, cause if I don’t start talking now, I won’t ever start talking, right?”

He was blabbering.

Crowley could see Aziraphale was excited. About something. Probably whatever the Metatron had said to him, but that could wait. 

He was about to say the things he’d been thinking about since Before. Before everything began. And he knew that if he shut his mouth, he’d never be able to muster the courage to say it again.

Here goes.

“Yes, so—”

He watched as Aziraphale took a deep breath, still smiling, as though he was willing his excitement away to listen to him. Crowley faltered for a split second.

I never deserved you, did I?

He released a sharp breath.

Words. They were words. He could say them now; Heaven and Hell had finally left them alone, for good (he hoped). It wasn’t a sin; they wouldn’t be punished. 

They were words.

Just start, the voice inside him whispered.

Right. But where exactly was he to start? Whatever they were, whatever they had… it had started long before anything Began. How was he to put into words the adoration and all-consuming devotion he felt towards Aziraphale when it had blossomed when words didn't even exist?

“We've known each other a long time. We've been on this planet for a long time. I mean, you and me.”

He gestured nervously between him and Aziraphale, voice failing as he tried to swallow whatever was stuck in his throat. Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed the tiniest amount, his lips parting slightly, belaying his confusion at where this was going. Crowley counted himself lucky to have had enough time spent observing and cataloging Aziraphale’s microexpressions to be able to tell what he was thinking at any moment.

Always so expressive, Angel.

“I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me.”

The Thing with Job. Their Arrangement. The French Revolution. 1827, 1941. 1967, whatever the Hell that year was. The Arrmagedidn’t. 

“We’re a team, a group. Group of the two of us.”

Friends. Partners.

All the words they’d been dancing around for all these millennia. But to Aziraphale, who’d worn the same outfit since the 1800s, who had once said, eyes flitting around his Bentley, in that gentle voice that Crowley so adored, “You go too fast for me, Crowley”, to Aziraphale, who moved so slow it was practically a fucking wonder they’d managed to grow so close in six millennia: it was all Crowley could say.

“And we’ve spent our existence pretending that we aren’t.”

His voice wavered. 

“I mean, the last few years, not really,” he managed, eyes flitting around the bookshop, hand making a vast gesture that really didn’t mean anything. 

He was breathing through his mouth now, tears gathering at the edges of his eyes, not enough to blur his vision but enough to heat his gaze. The only thing Crowley could hear was the ticking of the clock behind him. 

He was going to say it.

He had to say it.

“And I would like to spend—I would like to spend the rest of whatever time we have not pretending.”

Crowley’s eyes, which were, up until this point, unable to look in Aziraphale’s direction, were now fixed on him. Aziraphale was breathing heavily too, eyebrows furrowed but mouth set in that exact way which told Crowley he was scared. Confused. Yet happy, too.

…perhaps this had not been a bad idea.

Crowley allowed himself to consider the idea that his affection was not wholly unreciprocated. But as soon as the thought appeared in his mind, he knew it was not the whole truth. Aziraphale did love him. Back. It had always been true. 

“...Angel?”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, the skin around his eyes crinkling and lips stretching in a smile that was worth all of the pain Crowley had gone through in all his existence. 

Aziraphale closed the gap between them and all Crowley could see was the blue in his eyes. Or was it brown? Green? 

Who cared? Whether it was brown as the final assemblage of dust and gas that built up the Pillars of Creation, as the humans had named his little creation; whether it was blue as the surface of a lake that reflected Earth’s atmosphere; whether it was as green as he demanded of all his houseplants: what did it matter? He’d loved Aziraphale all the same.

For all this time that he’d known Aziraphale, he’d never been close enough to determine the exact colour of his eyes. 

Now they were. Face to face.

Tears had gathered in the corner of Aziraphale’s eyes. 

“I think I’ve always known it deep down, Crowley. But I’ve been too much of a fool to have recognised it. I…”

His fingers came up to cradle Crowley’s face. Aziraphale’s hands were not as soft as he’d expected them to be; the reader’s calluses had made their home on his fingertips, especially his thumbs, and there was a faint one near the base of his thumb, from the grip of a sword. The touch was like coming home, Aziraphale’s grasp grounding and reverent, as though Crowley were something even near holy.

“If Gabriel and Beelzebub could do it, go off together, then we can,” Crowley could barely get the words out, so choked up he was. “Supreme Archangel of Heaven and Grand Duke of Hell, if they could do it, then why not us, Angel?”

A single tear slid down Aziraphale’s face. Crowley watched it, his own fingers involuntarily reaching out to wipe it off. It was the purest thing Crowley had touched since the Holy Water. Angelic tears were the closest he’d get to holiness without being burned, and that too because Aziraphale willed it so.

“I’ve been blind, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, after a brief stretch of silence, still cupping his face. “There always has been an us, hasn’t there? I’ve just spent so long denying it that it hurts to say.”

He leaned in closer.

Crowley could feel his breath now, the gentle cycle of inhale-exhale that kept their corporations running. It was intimate, dangerously so.

“I love you,” Aziraphale breathed the words.

A sob caught in Crowley’s throat. It was like the sun breaking through the clouds after a long rainy day, like absolution and liberation; Aziraphale loved him. Him, the Serpent of Eden, the perpetrator of the Original Sin. Aziraphale, the Guardian of the Eastern Gate, wielder and gifter of the flaming sword, who was everything light, good, holy: that angel loved him.

Six thousand years and countless years Before had never prepared him for this. 

Aziraphale leaned in. Crowley stayed where he was, frozen and held in place. Their breaths mingled.

Aziraphale kissed him.

Kisses were a curiously human behavior; it was humanity’s meaning all wrapped up in a single gesture that was hard to put into words. It was everything he’d dreamt of, conjured in his imagination and yet more. Later on, Crowley would never be able to describe it. It was divinity in its simplest and purest form, redemption for his Fall, the love he’d lost when he’d made his choice. Aziraphale chose him. Was actively choosing him now, every moment their lips were pressed against each other’s.

“We’re not pretending any more, Crowley. I promise you,” Aziraphale murmured against his lips. Crowley only pulled him closer.

When they finally broke apart, the part deep within him that had pined these six thousand years and counting was, finally, quiet. 

Aziraphale laughed wetly. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” the angel mused out loud, and Crowley brushed his cheek absentmindedly. 

“Nah, Angel. Not one bit.”

A moment of silence.

“Well then, may I tempt you to a breakfast at the Ritz?”

“Tempt me all you desire,” Aziraphale smiled, interlacing their fingers as he tugged them towards the door of the bookshop. “Your longest-waiting temptation has finally been accomplished, after all. So a little bit of a balance: I get to treat you well.”

And Crowley had nothing more to say.

Heaven didn’t matter, Hell didn’t even factor in. 

All that was there (finally) was them. 

Together. 

A nightingale sang, in the bustling streets of Soho, and it was only heard by them.