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m-jelly · 3 years ago

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Okay but how about Modern!AU where reader make a fidelity test on Levi over phone with a friend, like Petra or something like that?

Hi Anon. At first, I had no clue what this was, then I researched it. First thoughts are you would never need to do this with Levi, because he'd never EVER cheat on you. So, you wouldn't need to test him. The man is loyal as fuck and believes he's lucky that a woman finds him so attractive that they wanna fuck him and have a future with him <3

Sorry if it's not what you want. The things I saw online might not be what you were thinking, but it said stuff like setting someone up with a fake flirty woman or man?? I dunno. I'm an old lady and confused. The stuff I know is those things in magazines you did as a teenager xD So, I based it off them...

I'm so sorry if this is not what you wanted!

Tests reveal nothing.

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Genre and Tags: Modern AU, romance, couple, love, being in love, silliness, joking around, cute.

Concept: While at home as your CEO partner Levi is at work, you call up your friend Petra and catch up with her. While talking she comes across some silly questions in her magazine and asks you them about Levi. As you go through them, you realise just how loyal and wonderful your man is. When he comes home, you shower in him in love.

You wandered around Levi's apartment and missed him terribly. You wanted to cuddle and kiss him loads, but he worked so much. You accepted the fact that he was demanded at work a lot, so you would have times when you wouldn't see him for a while.

You lay on the sofa, then took a picture of your thighs and pelvis. You sent it to Levi and said your pillows miss you. You giggled when Levi text you back very quickly calling you a teasing brat and he will cover your thighs in bites when he gets home.

You let out a long sigh, then called your friend Petra. "Are you busy?"

Petra hummed. "No. Just reading a magazine right now. Levi at work?"

You pouted. "Yeah. I'm bored and miss him."

"Wanna do something stupid?"

You rolled onto your stomach and kicked your legs. "Like what?"

She flicked a page. "I have one of those couple tests in my magazine, wanna do one?"

You laughed. "I haven't done one of those since I was a teen. Do you remember the ones where you find out your celeb boyfriend?"

She snorted. "Oh yeah. So, wanna do it?"

You traced patterns on the sofa and shrugged. "Sure, why not. I know what it'll reveal. It'll show me Levi is a very loyal guy and I'm fucking lucky to have him. You know, I'm his first and only love?"

She awed at your information. "That's so cute."

You hummed and smiled. "He is a secret romantic. He's very loving behind closed doors, but in public, he doesn't show it too much. I think it's nice like that." You patted your hand down. "Okay, first question!"

"I trust my partner so much that I am willing to let him participate in activities which other partners find too threatening."

You smirked. "Well, yeah. He can do whatever he wants."

"I mean, that's trust right there."

You nodded. "Exactly."

"I feel comfortable telling my partner anything about myself, including the bad."

You laughed at the question. "Of course. I'm an open book with Levi, he actually loves hearing me talk about myself."

"So sweet. He seems the type. You want the next?"

You hummed. "Please."

She sighed. "Alright. I know my partner will always be ready and willing to offer me strength and support through thick and thin."

"Yes. If I could shout yes, then I would."

"I swear you two are like rocks. The next is asking about making choices. If an important choice had to be made, would Levi prioritise your welfare?"

You sat up. "Always."

She hummed. "I'm going to skip the next one, it's asking about if he would cheat and I know he never would. That man is just obsessed with you. You are his first in everything, right?"

"Right."

She sighed. "I highly doubt he'd cheat. I've seen or known a man to be so obsessed with his partner." She clicked her tongue a few times. "Skipping some...oh, does he keep his promises?"

You hummed. "He tries to keep most. It's hard with his job, but he does his best to keep his promises."

"He's a gem. I know he'd do anything for you." She smiled. "You've got a wonderful man on your hands."

"I do."

Levi slammed open the front door. "BRAT!"

You giggled. "I gotta go. Seems like the handsome man has come home. I'll talk to you later."

Petra chuckled. "Good luck!"

You ended the call and smiled. "Hi."

He stormed over to you. "Give me those pillows, now."

You put your phone down, then patted your thighs. "All ready for you. I bet you're glad I wore shorts."

He pulled his blazer off, then kicked his shoes off. He sat on the floor in front of the sofa, then put your legs over his shoulders. He hummed and ran his lips over the inside of your thigh. "So perfect and soft." He nuzzled your thigh and hummed in happiness. "How was your day?"

You squeezed Levi's face with your thighs. "Boring. I missed you a lot. I'm glad your home."

He nipped the inside of your thigh. "Happy to be home."

You smiled and played with his hair. "You know, I really fucking love you Levi. You're the most perfect thing in my life."

He blushed a little. "Wow...uhh...I wasn't expecting that, thank you." He leaned up and kissed you. "I love you too. You are my everything, brat. Everything okay?"

You nodded and hugged him. "I'm perfect. I just want to give you my love and appreciation."

"It's very welcomed." He squeezed you. "I adore you." He lifted you up making you giggle. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me." He covered your face in kisses. "You and me forever."

#levi ackerman #levi #fanfic #levi fanfiction #aot fanfiction #snk levi #aot levi #levi x y/n #levi x you #aot x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fluff #aot fluff

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

Text

Real Friends

Valkyrae & Reader (Male)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: SMAU, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Following an accidental and not very consensual face reveal, Y/N’s dealing the sudden shift of the spotlight on him even more than it was before. Being the big deal he is on social media, the internet has every right to be freaking out. Luckily, he’s got a friend to help him cope with it all.

Requested by @iawaythrown Hii! Thank you so much for your request! I’m so sorry for how long it has taken me to complete your request and post it but here it finally is. I’ve never written a SMAU before so this isn’t the classic SMAU format but I still hope you’ll enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

Imagine you end a toxic relationship of almost a year and go to bed feeling like a ton of bricks has been lifted off you, like you can finally breathe properly and like you’re finally getting a taste of freedom. The very freedom you chose to lose by getting in the toxic relationship in the first place. Of course, I didn’t know it was toxic at the time, probably cause it wasn’t, but it gradually turned into a nightmare.

A nightmare that keeps haunting me even after I thought I had put an end to it.

Apparently, that was wishful thinking cause I woke up this morning to find an unbelievable number of notifications and messages from friends, family and my manager and associates. Being in the music industry as a faceless creator, I keep my circle tight and it only consists of people I can trust so to see them all freaking out at me at once, even the most level-headed ones, freaked me out too. Quickly, I opened the first notification I reflexively tapped on and it opened a post in which someone had tagged me.

A picture taken of me while I was asleep, no doubt one taken by my ex. That being said, I think we can all have a guess at who posted it in the first place. I didn’t listen to my manager when he told me to not allow anyone I trust 1000% into my inner circle. I was foolish and at the peak of my career, feeling on top of the world and feeling invincible which was rare for me. I’ve always been insecure about many things in my life, growing up with a lot of judgy people made me be that way. Not to mention that I didn’t want to be the victim of the internet’s racism either. People turn a blind eye most of the time, but it’s still there, it still exists and looms over all social media platforms, disturbing people’s peace left and right. You see, I didn’t want people to have an opinion of my art based on my appearance or associations with other creators. I’m pretty good friends with many content creators, especially in the gaming industry, but I’ve never wanted to be put in a box as one of the many friends of someone famous. I made a name for myself without anyone knowing who I am exactly.

And now they all know because of this photo that my ex sent to float down the rivers of hungry social media:

Damn am I gonna get an earful from my manager or what. It’s still rater early though and I’m really not about to deal with this drama on a caffeine-free brain so if there are any calls, emails or messages that need answering - and yes, there are PLENTY of them - they’ll all have to wait until I feel like dealing with them. I’m glad I don’t have to keep up this unbothered charade at home since I live alone cause I seriously don’t feel ok with this. I mean, I could probably report it, but what use would that be when my brand now has a face and a huge chunk of my privacy has already surfaced against my will.

As I sit in my kitchen, sipping my coffee, I finally gather the nerve to at least scroll through the notifications that I’ve received. Fans reaching out, relatives, friends, pissed off people that are there just to exist and try to disturb my peaceful existence but all they’re gonna get is a hard DELETE from me. I have offers on top of offers for modeling pending, waiting on my response. I’ve never considered it, being a faceless creator and all, but my manager will definitely want to milk some cash from this too. That thought makes me sigh in defeat. I have no one to blame but myself for trusting my ex. No one made me do it, no one made me let them in, but I still did, fucking myself over insanely. Just like they’ve now fucked me over.

Amongst the sea of notifications and yet to be opened messages, one in particular stands out and makes me do a double take. It’s a message from my friend Rae - Valkyrae, as she’s known online. She’s one of those gamer friends I mentioned earlier, probably the one I’m closest with. Her and I talk on the regular so seeing a message from her in my inbox is nothing unusual so I wonder why that was the one that stuck out to me. Regardless, that’s the only one I feel like opening and replying to at the moment.

V ~ Hey Y/N, you doing ok? This all must be really hard on you so don’t feel obligated to reply. Do so when you can or want to. I’m here if you wanna talk

Of course Rae would be the one to know how I truly feel in a situation like this. I can act and cover up all I want but she knows exactly what’s underneath the surface of my façade. That third eye friends have for each other, it’s incredible.

Me ~ Doing ok. Wasn’t expecting to wake up to this but now that millions of people know what I look like it feels oddly bittersweet, you know? Like I don’t have to go out of my way to hide anymore but I’m also gonna miss that privacy I had while I was a phantom

Me ~ On the upside: people want me to be a model now XD

My message goes to Seen almost write away, the Typing icon appearing shortly after the messages were read. I wait for Rae’s reply, sipping my slowly cooling coffee with little interest due to how invested I am in our conversation. If there’s a person who can make light of this situation, it’s Rae, no doubt about it.

V ~ I know what you mean. It’s not gonna be easy to adjust to but you will get used to it eventually. I’m sure you’ll even grow to like it. Promise you, it’s not that scary to be exposed, there’s literal millions of people who support you wholeheartedly :)

V ~ Us, your friends, are here too! Never forget that, we’ve always got your back, Y/N!

V ~ Oh and you really should be a model! Whoever’s saying that has got the right idea. Maybe don’t fear this new change, but embrace it! Take this new turn in your life confidently. Sure, it was out of the blue, but do you really want the person who exposed you to feel the satisfaction of bringing you down? That doesn’t sound like you at all tbh

The epiphany strikes me as soon as Rae’s words sink in as I read them. She’s 100% right. The last thing I want is for my ex to think they’ve won. I refuse to give them the pleasure of tasting victory on the expense of my mental health and career progress. In fact, imma show them just how much they benefited me. But first...

Me ~ Thank you so much, Rae. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for this eye-opener

Me ~ I owe you one <3

I sure as hell owe her one, but for now I have other battles to win.

Rifling through my gallery, I find one more recent picture and without a shred of doubt or hesitation, I go straight to Instagram to post it.

~ “Since y’all were curious...And since y’all wanna see me model, you’re welcome” ~

Within seconds likes and comments start flowing in like a riptide, taking over my phone that, despite being charged all night, is already at half of its battery life.

I refresh the page with the post to look at the new comments that have come through, all supportive and complimenting me, some are real thirsty and some are incredibly kind. And even in that sea, her comment still sticks out to me, making me grin like an idiot.

“That’s what I was talking about! Work it, Y/N!“

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allegra-writes · 4 years ago

Text

"Get Gone"

Cherry x Reader

General audiences

Warnings: Angst. No happy ending, but a hopeful one.

MY MASTERLIST

"How many times can it escalate

Till it elevates to a place I can't breathe?

And I must decide, if you must deride

That I'm much obliged to up and go

I'll idealize, then realize

That it's no sacrifice because the price is paid

And there's nothing left to grieve"

Get Gone - Fiona Apple

"You need to go away. Now!"

"No! No, I'm not going anywhere until I talk to y/n!"

"She's not here"

"That's bullshit, I can see her bedroom light on! Y/n! Y/N!!"

"Son" You couldn't help but flinch as your father's voice joined the commotion outside your window: His health was weak enough as it was, he didn't need that kind of stress on him "you need to leave before I call the police"

"Too late" Your sister's snappy tone let you know even her, usually mellow and sweet, had had enough, "I already did, and in the state you're in?" You didn't need to see him to guess how your boyfriend -no, not boyfriend, fiancé- looked, disheveled with his ratty jeans and dirty hair. Hollowed cheeks and red eyed, probably very obviously stoned out of his mind. "I don't think you wanna run into them…"

"She means it, son. Y/n doesn't want to talk to you. Just get gone…"

The loud crash followed by a car door being slammed and the hideous squeal of tires on pavement told you your fiancé had lost his temple, again, before giving up and leaving.

Only then, did you allow the tears that were trying to escape to finally flow freely.

It broke your mother's heart, to see her little girl's fragile frame being shaken by the violent sobs as she tried to drown her cries against the covers of her old childhood bed.

And just like she used to do back when you were little, she started rubbing your back, hating the feeling of helplessness in front of a pain she couldn't protect you from.

"I don't understand" You could barely make out the sound of her voice over your own muffled screams, "honey… you're not the kind of girl to turn away from the people you love…"

"I can't help him, mom" It was painful, trying to talk with your throat so raw after hours of crying, but somehow you managed, "I don't know what to do anymore and- and he is suffering, he's hurting himself but he's hurting me too and I can't…"

You didn't notice you were choking until your mom's rubbing turned into soft hits. She wrapped her arms around you, forcing you into a sitting position. A glass of water materialized in front of you, and you chugged it down.

"He needs professional help, mom…" you croaked, still holding onto the cold glass, as if it could physically support you, hold you up.

"I know"

"And I just can't…"

"I know, baby. I know…"

Her sighed echoed your broken one, as she took the empty glass from your shaking hands.

"I just can't see how this can be the right thing. Not when you still love him, not when it's making you cry like this."

You met her eyes, using every last bit of lucidity, every last ounce of clarity you possessed in trying to find the right words to explain in a way she could understand.

"Yes, it hurts, and it's making me cry" You said, at last, with more conviction than you were feeling, praying with all your might that your words would prove true one day. That inner strength was one of those things you could fake till you made it. "And I'll probably keep on crying. In fact, I'll probably cry myself to sleep tonight. And tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that. But one day, I won't. One day, I won't be crying anymore, and being away from him won't hurt as if someone were drilling a hole inside my chest.

And I won't be happy that day, but some day after that, I will. And one day, even further away from now, maybe… maybe I will even find love again," Your voice broke, but you went on, because maybe if you could make it through till the end, you could make it through, "and that time… that time, it won't hurt. And maybe that time, it will be forever, for real"

The world tilted to the side, out of focus once again, as your mother brought you into her arms, letting you bury your head against her chest, while she showered soft, soothing kisses on the top of your hair.

"You will, baby, I know you will. You are the strongest person I know" she admitted, prompting a fresh river of tears to fall from your eyes, soaking her sweater, "if anyone can do this, it's you. I'm so proud of you."

You could feel the warm drops, the tears of her own, falling on your hair, but it was okay. Because for the first time that day, the tears were not tears of heartbreak, or pain. For the first time that day, you were not feeling sadness, or shame, or guilt, because for the first time that day, there wasn't any judgement or doubt in your mother's voice. She understood, and what was more, she believed in you.

And that allowed you to start believing in yourself too.

The End.

Author's note: I have made my opinion on writing fics based on the novelization and/or movie based on Nico Walker's life quite known in the past. More specifically, about the sexualization of romanticization of the characters or situations depicted in them. I said time and time again that I would neither read nor write works with Cherry as the protagonist and even blocked the tag for a while.

However, today I had a talk with my aunt, and she made me realize I may have gone about the whole situation completely wrong. Cherry is toxic, no doubt about that, so every relationship in his life gets tainted with that toxicity. And he was that way long before his army days but… the girls seeing Tom as him in a movie are not the first to ever romanticize a soldier.

My aunt belonged to a whole generation of teenagers that idealized war and the men going to fight it. They were their boyfriends, their husbands, in many cases their very first loves. And like many, she saw what her boyfriend did as an honorable duty. Like Emily, she thought the right thing to do was wait for her fiancé to come back.

Like Cherry, he came back changed. He came back a broken man, and for a long time she felt like her moral duty was stick to his side until he recovered.

But she was just a 19 year old kid, with mental health problems of her own, in no way equipped to handle his PTSD, his night terrors, violent outbursts or his budding addiction.

The story you just read, is her story. Exactly as it happened, unembellished and true. The dialogs in it, the real words she and my now late grandmother exchanged. I have tears in my eyes as I write this, but she wanted me to share this story with you. Because, sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, you can't save them if they don't want to be saved and the only healthy thing you can do is save yourself. Because sometimes the right thing to do feels wrong. Because "ride or die" means in richness and in poverty, not setting your own life on fire because your partner's is up in flames (or, you know, becoming an addict because your partner does drugs). And because sometimes, when you realize someone is not good for you, the best thing you can do FOR YOURSELF like she said, is crying yourself to sleep every night because you have to stay away from them and it breaks your heart, but knowing one day… one day the tears will stop.

#tom holland #cherry #cherry movie #tom holland x reader #cherry x reader #imagine #fanfiction #ciara bravo #emily and cherry

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amispnrewatch · 4 years ago

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SPN 1x06 “Skin”

Okay, I’m gonna try to type while I watch this time instead of forgetting this blog exists until the episode is almost over.

You can tell the footage for the previously on segment was saved on a VHS copy instead of the original film that the show was shot with because even in the HD iTunes version I have it looks low quality as fuck. And jumpy in the way that brings me back to my teens watching the WB all the damn time.

I love this song. WTF is this song. Shazam says “Good Deal” by Mommy and Daddy. I… have no comment, except that it sounds like everything I was listening to in college at the time this shit was airing.

Aaaaand not!Dean turns around to face the SWAT team after obviously torturing some woman. THAT is a cold open.

I wanna know what that car is in the background. It’s pretty. Maybe a convertible Impala? They have similar grills. This is not at all important.

Also, I love that with these higher definition versions of the episodes you can see that Sam’s email is lawboy and whatever dot com and that people in the fandom have started calling him Law Boy. It’s hilarious.

DEAN: Well, what exactly do you tell ‘em? You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?

SAM: I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with my big brother. I tell ‘em I needed some time off after Jess.

DEAN: Oh, so you lie to ‘em.

SAM: No. I just don’t tell ‘em….everything.

DEAN: Yeah, that’s called lying. I mean, hey, man, I get it, tellin’ the truth is far worse.

SAM: So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life? (DEAN shrugs.) You’re serious?

DEAN: Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.

Aaaaand now I have Dean and Cassie feelings again and we haven’t even gotten to her episode yet.

SAM: No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer.

DEAN: Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.

Aaaaaand now I have Dean and Lee feelings and we’re nowhere near Lee’s episode in season 15.

YOU JUST BLEW THROUGH A STOP SIGN DEAN WTF.

Little Becky. Oi with the reusing of names.

Of course Sam made friends with a bunch of rich kids while he was at college in a desperate attempt to try to be normal.

SAM: You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack’s house.

DEAN: We could.

REBECCA: Why? I mean, what could you do?

SAM: Well, me, not much. But Dean’s a cop. (DEAN laughs.)

DEAN: Detective, actually.

I love that Dean was like “how dare you call me that.”

Okay, after a bit of research, I totally want to take a day trip to Bisbee, Arizona, but it’s already in the 90s here in the desert and it’s not even May so that trip is going to have to wait until… winter or something. There is no way in hell I’m going deeper into the desert when the weather gets hotter.

It’s a historic mining town tourist trap looking place now which is exactly the kind of shit I love.

SAM: Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent.

I mean, not technically, technically you would 1) NOT FUCK WITH A MURDER INVESTIGATION YOU’RE NOT LEGALLY INVOLVED IN BECAUSE ANYTHING YOU FIND WOULD BE INADMISSABLE IN COURT 2) find evidence to provide a reasonable doubt for the jury that he did commit the crime. You know, like a lawyer would need to do, Law Boy.

DEAN: I just don’t think this is our kind of problem.

When I made my husband watch this show with me (he’s seen it all at least once now over the years) this is the recurring thing that drove him crazy.

You guys can’t even go in through the back door? Or shut the front door behind you? Really?

REBECCA: (tearfully) Well, there’s no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in.

Yeah, that doesn’t even really mean that she knew her attacker. Just that it was someone she let her guard down around or got in some other way. See: The Son of Sam and Nightstalker, etc.

Love the pinup magnet on the fridge. I’d throw shade at that, but I have a pinup magnet on my fridge too so… pot kettle and all that.

Okay, both people in the next couple are gorgeous.

And oh wow those special effects changing eyes… wow.

This poor couple. I feel so bad for them in this episode.

How… how are the police gonna explain the way he was able to beat himself over the head with a bat??? I…

I love that 5:30 in the morning on TV is clearly like… 10 AM.

Okay, this is a really unrelated point, but the graffiti on the dumpster here reminds me of the Teen Wolf fandoms use of the name Void!Stiles when Stiles Stilinski was possessed by a Nogitsune… I just spent way too long digging through YouTube and my Tumblr tags from back when those episodes were airing looking for a few specific videos and couldn’t find them. The TL;DR reason I bring it up here is goofball, bi-coded main character guy getting possessed by an entity set on destroying the people he loves. SOUNDS LIKE THIS EPISODE AND A WHOLE LOT OF SPN RIGHT. I love that all these monster hunting shows call out to each other.

This scene haunts me years later and I don’t even WATCH Teen Wolf. I just watched the fandom on Tumblr collectively lose it’s shit then tripped down a Hale Pack fanfiction rabbit hole.

ANYWAY

Back to Supernatural, a show that also treated its fan base, cast, and characters like garbage! Huzzah!

DEAN: Well, there’s another way to go—down. (They look down and notice a manhole.)

I’m gonna be mature and ignore the double entendre there…

But I love that Dean thinks of the world in 3D. Which sounds like a dumb statement to make, but this is honestly a good example of that in action.

SAM: I bet this runs right by Zack’s house, too.

Really Sam, sewers run by houses? SO WEIRD. I WOULD HAVE NEVER GUESSED.

DEAN: You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape—maybe it sheds.

SAM: That is sick. (DEAN puts the bloody pile back on the ground.)

Guys, there is a WHOLE ASS EAR in that pile of yuck you’re looking at. I think it’s pretty safe to assume the shapeshifter indeed sheds its skin like a snake. A much… gooier snake.

Sam’s friend is rightfully pissed at him for fucking with the crime scene.

This is before the pearl gripped guns?! Wow. I never noticed that before.

Also, this whole episode gives me feelings.

++++

Cool. Tumblr mobile ate a whole section of my notes on this when it crashed for NO APPARENT REASON. Love that.

It always boggles my mind that actors can trust the people they’re working with enough to let people “tie” ropes around their neck or put them in actually dangerous positions in a scene.

SHAPESHIFTER: He’s sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?

SAM: Where is my brother? (The shapeshifter leans in close to SAM.)

SHAPESHIFTER: I am your brother. See, deep down, I’m just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me. (He backs away.)

SAM: What are you talkin’ about?

SHAPESHIFTER: You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation, nothin’, just poof. Left me with your sorry ass. But, still, this life? It’s not without its perks. (He laughs.) I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky. You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance. Let’s see what happens. (He smiles and covers SAM with a sheet.)

This exchange is just… so much. So many feelings. And I will forever (unless we magically get a fix-it fic mini season someday…) be SO MAD that none of this got resolved in that pointless, trash heap of a finale.

REBECCA: Okay, so, this thing—it can make itself look like anybody?

SHAPESHIFTER: That’s right. (She chuckles.)

REBECCA: Well, what is it, like a genetic freak? (The shapeshifter laughs.)

SHAPESHIFTER: Maybe. Evolution is about mutation, right? So, maybe this thing was born human but was different. Hideous and hated. Until he learned to become someone else. (REBECCA looks around, uncomfortable. The shapeshifter’s eyes glint silver, and he smiles.)

It always amazes me how much of this show is a pile of accidental queer allegories parading around in an ill-fitting toxic masculinity suit.

Vulcan mind meld! I love nerd!Dean. Also, I’m rewatching Star Trek: TOS with my husband, because that is what my life amounts to these days, rewatching comfort TV and flailing over the bits I love.

This post does a better job than I can do of pairing up screen caps with the dialogue of this next scene. SIX EPISODES IN. They’re dumping all of this character depth SIX EPISODES IN. FUCK THIS SHOW FOR NOT EMBRACING ITSELF.

Okay, I love that he screams back in her face after he threw the phone. It’s not something to laugh at because the situation is horrifying, but I can’t help laughing at it every time.

AND THE WAY THEY CUT THESE SCENES. Going from him winding his hand back to backslap her directly to him dropping the chains on the table to show how hard he must have hit her without actually making the actors hit each other. Good job editing department!

I… don’t understand the shifter’s motivation for killing people. If he can take over people’s identities without killing them, why kill them? Is it just because he’s a homicidal, rapist piece of shit? Cause that’s all it seems like.

How did the SWAT team even know she was being attacked? Why can the snipers aim no better than Storm Troopers?

Ugh, these kind of transformation body horror scenes are exactly why werewolf stories have never really appealed to me much. Like, I could do without watching your ribs move and teeth fall out, dude.

BUT.

THIS FUCKING SCENE.

I looked up the song that’s playing over shapeshifter!Dean being caught by the SWAT team and then going through the grotesque transformation. (And as far as I know, the iTunes version has the original music from the episodes.)

It’s a song called “Mary” by The Death Riders

Who's your mother, who's your mother here boy // Who's your mother, whos your mommy dear // Who's your father, who's your father here boy // Who's your father, who's your daddy dear

Silently screaming // Where everyone knows // Daddy's always watchin' // Where everywhere - everywhere I go

I don't wanna be a freak show pretty boy anymore // I don't wanna be a full time slave // I don't wanna be your midnight cowboy anymore // I just want to be Mary

This is… a fascinating choice. Here are the rest of the lyrics. The song as a whole has a weird incesty kinda vibe to it? Kinda like when SPN tries to straight-wash itself and misses the mark wildly. (Like Dean’s male siren episode.)

The midnight cowboy line reminded me of 12x11 and the bull riding scene with “Broomstick Cowboy” by Bobby Goldsboro playing over it

Dream on, little Broomstick Cowboy, // Dream while you can; // Of big green frogs, // And puppy dogs, // And castles in the sand.

For, all too soon you'll awaken; // Your toys will all be gone. // Your broomstick horse will ride away, // To find another home. // And you'll have grown into a man, // With cowboys of your own. // And then you'll have to go to war, // To try and save your home.

And then you'll have to learn to hate; // You'll have to learn to kill. // It's always been that way, my son; // I guess it always will.

Because, you know, why not add tons of feelings into the lyrics, right?

Props to the people who can embrace their rewatches and reclamations of the show with ease. Because every episode seems to remind me of how hollow and tragic Dean’s ending was and I just… struggle all over again.

Anyway, back to the episode so I can move on with my day.

REPORTER: An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End, where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home. (A sketch of DEAN appears on the screen.)

DEAN: Man! That’s not even a good picture. (SAM looks around cautiously.)

SAM: It’s good enough. (He walks away.)

DEAN: Man! (He follows SAM.)

(CUT TO: Alley. DEAN and SAM are walking. DEAN steps into a puddle.)

DEAN: Ugh, come on.

I love that we get two tiny little back-to-back vanity moments for Dean here. One commenting on the sketch artist rendition of him being broadcasted on the news and the other tripping in the puddle. There is literally someone running around the city trying to kill people while wearing Dean’s face, but Dean is still concerned with how he looks appears to others. He’s still concerned with keeping up his own performance. The shifter left him with just a t-shirt, so he doesn’t even have his usual comfort layers on and at any moment someone could spot him and call the police or try to kill him for assaulting Sam’s friend. His life is wildly out of control in that moment and the only thing he can try to focus on is his appearance (something semi-controllable) and finding the shifter before any of that other shit can happen.

One day I want to put together a like top 10 episodes focusing on / explaining each TFW character from the series. Like the kind of list you could show someone who’s never seen the show, but has OPINIONS about the characters (or who hasn’t seen the whole show and seen the growth they went through… you know, like the people responsible for the travesty of 15x20). This episode would be on that list. I’m not sure how I could manage to make a list of only 10 episodes to understand Dean Winchester by, but eh.

SAM: What are you gonna do to me?

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, I’m not gonna do anything. Dean will, though.

SAM: They’ll never catch him.

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, doesn’t matter. Murder in the first of his own brother? He’ll be hunted the rest of his life. (He picks up a sharp knife and examines it.)

Speaking of season 15 in general, this right here. This was Chuck’s villain story arc thesis statement. AND THEY DROPPED THE GODDAMN BALL WITH IT. I think that’s the thing that honestly pisses me off the most these days (about 5 1/2 months from when the finale aired) is that they tried making the whole thing a tragedy but did such an awful job with it that it just ended up like a deflating condom balloon at a dive bar concert. Disappointing and gross. The finale for season 14 set them up SO FUCKING WELL and it just… didn’t get there.

Becky’s parents are gonna be pissed at how torn up their house is after all this shit…

And you’re not shooting him when you first see him strangling Sam because…?????

I like that he took the necklace back. Also, is this kinda Dean death number .5 of the show? Like it wasn’t him but it was also kinda him. Eh.

At least they left the windshield on Baby this time. Reflections are better than tearing her apart.

#SPN 1x06 #amispnrewatch #reclaiming spn #performing!dean #lawboy #bi!dean #dean x cassie #dean x lee #stiles stilinski #void!stiles #teen wolf #dean deserved better

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calpops · 4 years ago

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reassurance | c.h.

Your relationship with Calum is accidentally exposed to the public and you both have to deal with the hardships it entails. Based on the prompts “nothing is wrong with you”, “I’m not going anywhere”, “you’re the only one I wanna wake up next to” and “you make me feel safe".

1.7k words

dates with cal masterlist

<< >>

Your eyes are glued to your phone screen, the light burning in the otherwise dark room. You sit alone on the edge of the bed. Calum is still at the studio, another late night of finalizing keeping the comfort of him from you. Photos are surfacing online and it’s the first time you’ve been publicly spotted with Calum. How you’ve managed to keep your relationship to yourselves for so long is baffling but something you both cherished. Now that’s broken; the intimacy taken from you and splashed across headlines and social media. Your hands shake and your phone screen comes in and out of view with the motion and burning eyes. You take in a shallow breath and swipe out of social media that makes your mind spin and heart ache. You fumble to dial Calum’s number and wait with bated breath as the phone rings and rings and rings. You didn’t expect him to answer; completely used to his voicemail greeting on nights when the band takes precedence.

He doesn’t answer and familiar words flood you but you can’t fathom getting your own words out, instead you hang up and toss the phone on the bed. Willing the entire situation away from you with the action. The photos and words attached to them are clear in your mind as you crawl into bed with your clothes still on; too tired and uncaring to change into pajamas. You can picture the snapshots vividly, they were taken at a distance but capture you both in a moment you thought was private. Intimate. His hands cupping your smiling face and his lips pressed to your forehead. The words of fans and media outlets burn in dark red behind closed eyelids. They’re fleeting but come back in haunting whispers as you wait. Wait for them to go away, wait for Calum to come home, wait for assurance that everything is okay and those words aren’t true. They’re lies and rumors and misconceptions based on wild theories. You try to remember that as time ticks on and Calum still hasn’t come home. It’s later than his usual late and doubts begin to plague you, to settle in your brain with twisted words and venomous vengeance.

It’s compulsory when you reach for your phone again; you try to convince yourself it’s just to see if he’s texted yet but no notifications from him light up the screen and yet you unlock the phone anyway. You don’t know why. You know how heavy the words were the first time you were presented with them. With only minutes between you dive back into the words from faceless people that shouldn’t hurt but make your chest tight and eyes well up with tears anyway.

You’re curled into your side with a quivering lip and tear stained cheeks when Calum finally gets home with phone in hand and worries hitting him hard and fast. He saw your missed call as soon as they wrapped up the session; the lack of voicemail to accompany it was unusual and spiked anxiety and questions through him. He raced home with only thoughts of you as the rest of the world became faded. He could’ve called but the drive was short and seeing you was his first priority—the lack of your voice on his messages instilling that need tenfold. He finds you in bed, day clothes still on, phone in hand and silent sobs escaping you. He doesn’t know what’s wrong but he’s moving to your side on instinct, replacing the phone with his hand as he pulls you up and to him. You’re shaking in his hold and he does his best to calm you and stop the tears. A million scenarios race through his mind and none of them are pleasant, most of them begin with loss and heartache and leave him breathless.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” He asks as gently as he can manage.

Calum’s in a half crouched position at the side of the bed, his arms wrapped around you as best as they can be. You sink into his embrace and take comfort in the familiarity of his hold; revel in his concern and use it to instill faith in the things you should already know and never forget. You don’t know if you can manage to say much, throat tight and burning and chest weighed down by revelations of the night. For a selfish moment you stay silent and press closer into him, holding onto the fragmented pieces of hope that everything is still okay. Calum didn’t want to go public with your relationship and you’d never batted an eye at that—also content to keep whats yours between the two of you with only friends and family knowing. Now that’s shattered. You never wanted to live under the scrutiny of media and fans and eyes always on you, seeing you, judging you. Now you’re shattering.

“There’s pictures,” you manage to choke out and pull away from him but guide him up to properly sit on the bed though his arms don’t want to leave you. He settles on the edge and pulls you back before you can even catch your breath. “Everyone knows. Everyone hates me.”

Calum goes still; you can’t even feel the rise and fall of his chest beating out breaths. He’s stoic and contemplative as he figures out your words and rejects their meaning. You peer up at him through hazy tears and find a frown creasing his features. Guilt eats at you—tries to tell you it’s your fault and he’s upset with you for the broken bit of privacy his life once had. You suck in a shaking breath and wipe at your face, determined to move away and find refuge and safety from the moment under the covers. But Calum shakes himself and doesn’t let you go, he’s soft and warm as he invites you back into his side and does his best to rid your face of the rest of the tears.

“Can I see the pictures?” He finally asks and you can hear the hitch in his breath as reality crashes through.

You slowly nod; the articles and tweets still litter your phone, all you have to do is unlock it and hand it over. Calum doesn’t let go of you as he accepts the device, his eyebrows furrow and brown eyes glint with recognition and then glimmer back to concern. He swipes through, rolling text passes in a blur and a sigh escapes him. You’re two seconds away from another sob but bite your lip and try to keep it in. He tosses the phone away and looks down at you, hands gentle as they come up to cup your face and lips warm and familiar as they place a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s about time the world gets to know how much I love you,” he says and leaves you shocked with disbelief.

You had no way to gauge what his response might be other than late night conversations detailing how much he values your shared privacy. That he appreciates you being okay with staying under the radar. One simple sentence blows all of that away, a kiss and a sigh accompanying it in a delicate form of reassurance. But hostile words from unknown people still settle in your heart and haunt your thoughts. Knowing Calum is okay with your relationship being public is only a slim margin of the battle. The rest comes in droves of hateful words and bold headlines.

“You don’t believe any of it, do you?” He asks abruptly, tone tight and clipped. You know he means the hate, the disparaging words that dance through social media so mindlessly, so heartlessly.

You force a shrug and wipe the rest of your tears away, eyes downcast at the notches in the wooden floor. You can hear his heartbeat, the steady rhythm grounding you and forcing you away from the spiraling whirlwind of negativity and doubt.

“Maybe some of it's true,” you whisper and feel the pull of Calum pulling you closer, holding you tighter, repositioning you to settle into his lap completely and find comfort in his actions.

“It’s not,” he says firmly and keeps his gaze steady on you. “No one else’s opinion matters. There’s nothing they can say to make me think there’s something wrong with us or you.”

He’s saying exactly what you need to hear, things you already know but need to be reminded. Taking your fears and doubts from other people’s words and pushing them away so effortlessly. Comments that pick you and your relationship apart don’t feel as heavy and honest when Calum’s there to lift them away and cast light on your truth. Calum’s always considered himself a man of few words but he always has the right ones in the right moments.

“They don’t know you like I do. They don’t get a say in our relationship. I’m not going anywhere; not without you. No one else’s opinions matter,” he repeats and kisses you again. “I hope you know that.”

You did and now you do again. You nod against his chest and decompress, body easing after hours of tension and uncertainty. You move with him as he leans you back against the pillows and toward the sliver of moonlight that peeks through slotted open curtains. It’s silent for a few minutes and in that time Calum sends out a tweet of confirmation and defense. You don’t know what it says and don’t care to look or ask; you trust him and his words. Know how safe and protected he makes you feel.

“Feel any better?” He asks as he turns his phone off and tosses it away too.

“Yeah,” you answer quietly and gnaw on your lip for just a second before asking, “you’ll be here in the morning?”

You have to ask, wanting to know if the band will take precedence again, if his side of the bed will be cold by the time you wake up because of an early morning session. But there’s another meaning that sinks into the question. Reassurance being sought out.

“Of course,” he answers just as softly, with two meanings capturing his voice. “Always wanna wake up with you, sweetheart.”

<< >>

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illyaana · 3 years ago

Text

Birthday Special: Mashirao Ojiro

credits to the artist who drew the picture above!

Tags: Timeskip! Ojiro x Hero! Reader, No Specific Gender for Reader, Fluff

Your Hero Name: Pavlin (Peacock in Bulgarian)

Your Quirk: Peacock

When you wish, a bunch of peacock feathers form from the small of your back. Much like Hawks' quirk, they listen to your orders and can become swords. They also double as a shield. You also have a telekinetic connection with them too. The drawback is that removing too many in an hour can make you bleed.

Synopsis: You were tracking down two vigilantes. As you were severely injured, you sent a notice to all the heroes where you believed they were heading. After you healed, you continued to follow them. Soon, they removed their disguises and you found out it was Toga and Dabi. Toga shoved a needle in your arm and you thought that she was only drawing out blood, but you were wrong.

Word Count: 1879

The two vigilantes were relentlessly attacking you. Their guns and daggers came at you from left and right, forming multiple gashes and wounds on your body.

You knew you were reaching your limit. The feathers on your back were stained by the blood dripping due to you using so many of your feathers without any time to recuperate.

You jumped from the building and hid in an alleyway. You were planning to give yourself 5 mins to let your body rest while you use the smaller feathers of yours to track the two armed men.

By injecting a syringe full of green liquid formed by some of the heroes you knew who had quirks that could heal, you felt the wounds in your body seal and heal while you focused on the task at hand - to identify where they were going.

You were in your subconscious, feeling the movement of your feathers in a makeshift map of Musutafu in your head. You memorised the city like the back of your hand, it was required to be one of the more efficient heroes of Japan.

You knew they knew you weren't physically following them anymore, so they'd lead you straight to where they intended to go - and it oh so happened to be the base of the League of Villains.

Using your phone, you alerted all the heroes nearby the base with an app designed by the safety commission to keep an eye out for the two as you recharged.

Soon, you felt your body was ready to continue with the mission you were originally conducting.

Using the boots designed by your agency, you jumped and used your feathers to swerve to the right. Soon, you were jumping from building to building to catch up with the two men you were tracking.

You heard your phone ring and you picked it up,

"What is it Ojiro?" you said, speaking loudly.

"Where are you, most of us are waiting outside of the base to get those two," he stated with a worried tone.

You chuckled. "Don't worry about me too much, honey. Your fiance is stronger than you think."

"Still, where are you?" He asked again, now with a more stern tone.

You sighed. "Look up, stupid."

You saw him look to the top of the building opposite the base and instantly spotted you. You were leaning against the wall with your arms crossed and your phone by your ear.

You saw his face turn pale and you instantly turned around.

The two males smiled as one of them shoved a needle into your upper arm, drawing blood from it.

Soon, a muddy-like shell covering their bodies fell from the both of them, revealing Dabi and Toga.

"Pavlin wasn't as strong as they said, right, Dabi?" Toga said smiling, revealing her two fangs.

Dabi smirked as he walked towards you and grabbed your chin.

"They're hot too," he said as he trailed his fingers on your lips, "It isn't fair that Tailboy managed to secure this hot of a person to himself."

You bit Dabi's finger and pulled on the syringe, causing all the blood drawn to fall on the floor.

Using your feathers, you pinned both Toga and Dabi to the wall.

While Dabi tried to burn the feathers, you used a flashlight and showed a signal to the heroes perched outside of the base and turned their attention to you.

Ojiro was soon behind you along with Shoto and Aizawa. He quickly grabbed you before you fell due to the blood loss.

"You okay?" he asked as he gripped you from the sides. You could only nod, unable to say a word.

You felt your feathers begin to fall from your back.

You didn't tell them to.

They fell on their own.

You began to vomit out blood, copious amounts falling from your lips.

Soon, you heard Dabi laughing hysterically. "So how is it being quirkless, Pavlin?"

Your face paled.

Quirkless?

"We weren't only taking your blood, you know," Toga explained, "We also injected you with something the League has been developing - a serum to remove quirks."

Toga took the knife from her hands and cut through your feathers. "You were our first test subject, and it clearly worked!" She began chuckling, "You are relieved from your duties, Pavlin. It was a pleasure being your opponent."

You gripped Ojiro's arm, not wanting to act recklessly.

You were no longer Pavlin.

You chuckled lowly.

You took one of your longer feathers from the ground, touching the very tip of it.

It was still sharp.

It could still cut.

You looked at Ojiro.

You didn't need to say anything.

He already knew what you wanted to do.

You got off the floor and stood in a fighting stance, wiping the blood from the sides of your mouth.

"At least let me finish my job before I am relieved of my duties, Toga."

You ran to her, using your boots to get a high distance so that you came to her at an angle.

You were going to stab this bloodsucker and give her a taste of her own medicine.

Thanks to Shoto, they couldn't move. The ice beneath them had secure them to where they stood.

Every single time Dabi tried melting it off, Shoto just formed more ice.

The next few seconds were a blur, but you knew you stabbed Toga at her right shoulder. You made sure to push it in deep, letting the finer hairs of your former feather enter her skin, preventing her from using her dominant hand ever again.

Dabi stared at his partner as she screamed.

While she was writhing in pain, you looked at him.

"I am not done with you get."

A dark smile reached your lips as you jumped off of Toga's body and grabbed two of your smaller feathers.

"Get out of the way!" you screamed at the others as you ran straight to Dabi.

You threw one small feather while running and it immediately hit Dabi's lower arm.

"Even if I wasn't with Ojiro, I would've never fall in love with you let alone get in a relationship with you."

You threw the other smaller arrow to reach his lips vertically, slicing each lip in half, "...so don't you ever touch my lips ever again."

Everyone surrounding you sighed in relief when you kneeled down, catching your breath.

But Ojiro wasn't going to let this end like how it did.

He was furious.

That quirk was the only thing that reminded you of your family that died so many years ago.

It was the only thing that you could call a present from your family.

He knew how life was for you as an orphan who was never adopted.

He remembered how you'd go on and on about your late parents who taught you the basics of your quirk.

He remembered how you cried when you told him about how they passed off.

He knew how much that quirk meant to you.

And all he could see now was red.

"How dare you do that to them!" He screamed at the two of them.

You saw the anger in your fiance's eyes as he gave a death stare to the two villains in front of you.

"Ojiro, I have already-" he touched the top of your head, signalling you to let him speak on your behalf.

"They may be willing to let this slide with just a few cuts and bruises, but not me."

Ojiro was going to fling himself off the pole beside him but you managed to stand in time to stop him.

You made him crouch beside you and pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you, Ojiro, but I don't need your name dirtied because of what happened to me," you pat his back.

"Besides, they have injuries they can't heal that will affect their line of work because of me, and that has given me all the satisfaction I needed," you ended, a dark smirk on your face as you faced the two villains.

Soon, the two of them were apprehended and sent off to be contained. You and Ojiro headed back to your shared apartment and began to watch an episode of the show you both were watching together.

You loved the domestic life that you both shared. You did not crave adventure. So did Ojiro.

You both loved the indoors. Just being surrounded by comfort after a long day's work is all you both needed to re-energize yourselves.

You saw the popcorn bowl empty and headed to prepare more until Ojiro stopped you.

He turned off the TV and gave his wholehearted attention to you.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

You were all prepared to let it die off with the severe injuries of two villains, yet those six words managed to form your tears to form.

"I spent only four years with them, Ojiro. I lost them when I was going to turn 5 - the day right before my birthday," you began, "My quirk was the only thing keeping them alive within me. I lost my whole family thanks to one measle injection I could've easily avoided."

Ojiro pulled you into his lap and softly placed his tail on you. He knew you liked to touch it when you were sad or angry.

"Your quirk wasn't the only thing keeping them alive, love. The fact you worked so hard to become someone who your parents could be so proud of, the fact you didn't falter through all those trying times in your life, the fact you stood tall when everyone doubted you - that fighting spirit of yours," he touched the middle of your chest with his finger," That keeps them alive."

"You will always remember the training they gave you when they found out your quirk, right?" You nodded.

"You will keep the memories you've made with them in those precious years, right?" You nodded.

"You will always carry your last name, even when you're married, correct?" You nodded.

"Then what is there to worry about?" He said, pinching your cheeks.

"I fell in love with you because of who you are. I will always remember you as the little feisty person who made me see my talent and made me love myself."

He placed his head on your shoulder, rubbing the side of his face in the crook of your neck.

"You made me the hero I am today, and you will be known throughout the years as someone to be respected. And it's all thanks to your parents - to your family, isn't it?" He ended, giving a kiss on your neck.

This was it.

This is why you love this man.

He knew the main reason behind your pain and made it go away.

This is why you are going to marry him and make him the happiest man on Earth.

You turned to face him and gave a kiss on his forehead. "Thank you, Ojiro."

He just smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead, too. "Thank you, Y/N."

If the world was something that gave you a blessing amongst an array of curses, you both knew that he was your blessing as you were his.

Happy Ojiro Day! The Tailman himself is totally underrated, so let's give him some love today, hmm? (✿◡‿◡) As always, thanks for all the reblogs and the likes. I hope you enjoyed it :3

As usual, if you have any ideas or headcanons or just wanna talk to me, tell me here!

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whump-me-all-night-long · 4 years ago

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Charleigh’s Doll - Acquisition

So this is a new idea that I’ve been working on for a little bit, instead of any of my current WIPs. What can I say, the creative juices flow where they flow. Anyways, I can’t say how often this will update or how consistently, but I have high-ish hopes!

Tagging some people who expressed an interest (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @cupcakes-and-pain @lave-e @killtheprotagonist

CW: lady whump, pet whump, dehumanization, referring to people as “it,” lady whumpee, lady whumper/caretaker, lines between whumper and caretaker being blurred, that’s all for this chapter I think, but please let me know if I missed anything!

---

Charleigh sighed, tapping her foot impatiently on the store floor, her eyes trailing over the items lining the shelves of the pet store. She glanced at her watch yet again before pursing her lips and nudging the girl next to her, who turned around to frown at her.

“Sorry, Charleigh!” she said lightheartedly, tossing her natural unnaturally red hair over her shoulder, sounding not very sorry at all.

Charleigh just gave a sigh before her lips turned upward into a reluctant grin. “It’s fine, Rey,” she conceded. “But if we don’t get going soon, we’re gonna miss the movie.”

Her best friend, Reyna, gave a dismissive wave of her hand, turning back to stare at the shelf in front of her. “Don’t be such a worrywart. We’ll get there in plenty of time. You’re just sad because we might miss some of the previews. And you love those.” She gave Charleigh a teasing grin over her shoulder. “Weirdo.”

Charleigh snorted a soft laugh, and was about to reply when a commotion came from the back of the store, where they kept the pets. She didn’t know what made her do it, but she left Reyna behind in the accessories section staring at the selection of toys in front of her with nothing but a wave and followed the noises.

She pulled up short at what she saw when she reached the area. She’d never been a big pet person - never seen the appeal, quite frankly, or had the time - but taking in the pets lining the back wall in their cages, the rather poor, uncomfortable conditions they were kept in, her mouth twisted into a grimace. She dragged her eyes over the scene in front of her, brows raising in surprise.

Two store employees were struggling to drag a sobbing pet towards an empty cage. The pet, young with long dark hair covering most of her face, was flailing about, bawling and whimpering. Charleigh had no doubt that the pet would be begging if not for the tight black muzzle secured fast around her face.

A few other shoppers had stopped to watch the scene, and one, a middle aged woman with a bleach blonde bob, leaned over to loudly whisper to Charleigh, “God, don’t they know how to make pets behave anymore. If my pet acted like that in public..” She trailed off with a distasteful look on her face before shaking her head and walking away. Charleigh couldn’t help but feel bad for that woman’s pet.

Slowly, the small crowd dispersed, until all but Charleigh were gone. One of the employees, a young woman about Charleigh’s age, glanced up and made an apologetic expression towards her, before soundly slapping the pet, who froze, a hand drifting up to clutch her cheek.

Charleigh winced slightly in sympathy, craning her neck to see the pet through all the hair.

“That’s it, pet!” the employee snapped, yanking the now-stunned pet up by her collar. “Behave yourself. Or do you want your removal date moved up?” The pet let out a broken cry at that but stopped struggling immediately.

The employees got her in the cage and fastened the door securely, leaving the pet curled up in a shaking ball as far back as she could get before turning around to leave. Charleigh caught the attention of the other one, a lanky teen boy, probably only working here as an after school job, and he moved over towards them.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked, a forced smile matching his overly cheerful tone.

She gave him a small smile back, remembering her own teen years working in customer service. “Yeah, um, hi, I had a question. About that pet.”

His smile wavered for a moment before he responded. “Of course. What would you like to know?”

Her brow furrowed a bit. “What did that other employee mean, when she said ‘removal date’?” She gave an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, I don’t have a pet. I’m just here with a friend.” She hitched a thumb over towards Reyna’s general direction.

The boy gave a polite nod. “Not a problem at all. Every pet has a sale value connected to them - how much they’re worth - and based on that, a removal date is issued out. If they’re not sold by that date, then they’re removed. Pets who are considered more high demand have further out dates, whereas pets considered less desirable have dates that are closer. It also depends on their health, their temperament, what company and store they’re being sold in, and if they’ve been bought before. For example-”

Charleigh cut him off, frowning slightly. “Wait, what do you mean, they’re removed?”

He looked at her like she was crazy - or just very dumb. “When a pet reaches their removal date without being bought, they’re euthanized. After that point, they’re deemed to cost more than they’re worth. It’s all very humane, of course.”

Charleigh felt sick. She pushed out, “And, um, when is that pet’s removal date?” She gestured over to the one from before, who had quieted down and simply folded up on herself.

The man gave a small shrug. “Tomorrow, after closing. That’s when removals take place.” He added with a small laugh, “Of course, it might be removed tonight, after all the trouble it’s caused. Nothing but a problem since we got it. It is a used pet, after all. Not the first time we’ve removed ‘em before we’re supposed to. Especially with the troublemakers.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink before moving on to help another customer.

Charleigh stood there for a moment, feeling the ground sway underneath her. She thought she might be sick. Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she had moved over to the cage where the pet had been shoved in.

Tapping softly on the glass, she tried to get the pet’s attention, but it was as if the pet had left her body, staring blank, glassy green eyes through the hair still hanging in front of the majority of her face. Seeing the thin piece of paper hanging from the cage, Charleigh grabbed it and skimmed over the information.

It listed her height, weight, hair color, eye color, all the details about her that a potential owner might like to know. Charleigh’s eyes widened at the age. 22. That was only three years younger than herself or Reyna. Swallowing down her disgust, she continued reading.

Temperament: Unruly unless strict discipline is shown.

Charleigh gave the pet a quick once-over, finding it hard to reconcile the terrified, softly whimpering girl in front of her with the one the employee and booklet painted.

Charleigh’s lips parted and she murmured softly, “Hey there. I’m not going to hurt you. Can you turn around for me, please?” The pet stiffened, before reluctantly shifting herself so that she was facing Charleigh.

She reached through the thin, widely spaced bars of the cage to place two fingers underneath the pet’s chin. Lifting the pet’s head, Charleigh couldn’t contain the gasp as she saw the pet’s face, subconsciously raising a hand to her own cheek.

The pet was extremely pretty - or, she would’ve been, if not for the jagged scar going down the left side of her face, from the top of her hairline, through the far corner of her eye and ending at the edge of her mouth. It was if someone had taken a knife to her face and yanked it down as roughly as they could. Charleigh leaned back slightly, her other hand going to cover her mouth. The pet’s big green eyes watched her warily, tracking every movement.

Her otherwise flawless pale skin spoke of a pet that had been otherwise well cared for, if a bit sun-deprived. Charleigh forced herself to look down the rest of her body and, while she couldn’t see any other visible marks, she did note that the pet seemed unhealthily thin.

“Oh my,” Charleigh whispered. “What happened to you?”

The pet seemed to pull back from that, as if expecting to get hit. Charleigh winced at her words, realizing how they probably sounded to the pet. She pulled the informational booklet towards her again and continued reading, a half-thought pushing into her head that she wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet.

She caught note of the words facial disfigurement and grimaced before continuing searching for what she was looking for. The price was listed at the very bottom of the sheet, in bolded print.

Charleigh sucked in a breath, at once surprised at both how expensive and relatively inexpensive the pet was. Most pets, she knew, were sold for tens - or even hundreds - of thousands of dollars. This one was only a few thousand. Only, she scoffed at herself.

The thought, the one she didn’t allow herself to think, kept poking at her, and she just stared at the pet until a hand dropped on her shoulder, snapping her out of it.

She glanced up to find Reyna standing above her. “Hey, Charleigh, I’ve got what I need. Wanna head out now?” she said, lifting a plastic bag, before glancing at the pet with raised brows. “What is that?”

Charleigh shrugged, dropping the paper and standing. “Nothing. I was just looking at something.” She hesitated before taking a step away. “Anyways, you’re right. We don’t want to miss our movie.”

Yet, as she tried to move, she found that she kept staring back at that pet, still curled up and watching her mournfully, with eyes both too old and too young. Reyna let out a big sigh. “You keep staring at that pet. You’re not seriously considering…?” She trailed off, arching a perfectly shaped brow.

Charleigh gave her a weary look. “I don’t know. She is kinda cheap. Only a couple thousand. I’ve got plenty saved up. Plus, she- her removal date is pretty close.” She gave a kind of helpless shrug, taking a tiny step back towards the cage. Then another one.

Reyna just rolled her eyes, following her back to the pet. “Fine. She is pretty cute. Except for that hideous scar. No wonder they pushed up her removal date.” Rey grinned, nudging Charleigh with her shoulder. “But for that price, it’s a steal. Plus maybe she and my Sadie girl could have pet playdates!” She laughed, and Charleigh could tell she was now thinking about her own pet at home, the one her parents had bought her as a graduation gift.

Charleigh crouched in front of the pet, reaching hand back in. “Here, girl,” she commanded softly. The pet stared at her for a moment before obediently, if a bit reluctantly, pushing her head into the hand. She scratched the pet’s scalp a bit, wondering. “Hmm, what do you think? Should I take you home?” Her hand trailed downward, brushing a finger against the large scar, before moving to cup the pet’s chin. She turned the pet’s head towards her, brushing a couple strands of the dark hair out of the way.

The pet watched her, unreadable expressions warring across her face. But she didn’t pull away, or show any signs of disobedience or defiance that Charleigh would’ve expected from her temperament description. Instead, she seemed content to sit there, drying tears on her face, and be held by Charleigh’s hand.

Charleigh glanced up at her friend, before giving a small laugh. “Look at this face. How could I say no?”

Reyna threw her hands up in mock surrender, still grinning like a fiend. “Okay, if that’s how you wanna spend your money.”

Charleigh shrugged, flagging down an employee. She pointed towards the pet. “Hi, I’d like to buy this pet.”

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prettyboymichaels-ao3 · 3 years ago

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Rewind, Rewire, Reword - Chapter 4: A Swerve in the Right Direction

Things come to a tentative boiling point, more things are said, and even more things are settled - for the time being, at least.

(Bret Hart/Shawn Michaels ABO AU; NOT Kayfabe Compliant; Words: ~4k; Rating: M; Notes, trigger warning/s, tag list, and chapter under the cut!)

(AO3 Link: [x]; Prev: [x]; First: [x])

(originally this was supposed to be split into smaller parts, like the other chapters, but it... didn’t flow as well, like that. so you’re getting the whole shebang at once ;) lucky y’all)

tw for: references to attempted sexual assault

tag list: @track12to13, @piratewithvigor, @sinderellanightwolf. tell me if you want to be tagged for any future chapters!

“Bret!”

That woke him up, and with a jolt, at that, flinching into alertness and away from the hand that was shaking him so harshly. “What? What?” He rubbed at his eyes, blinking as they adjusted, and turned to where the urgent voice had come from. It was Shawn, he could see the edges of his arms and shoulders as he leant over the side of the nest on his belly, his hair cast a soft orange by the street lights beyond the curtains, and his eyes were bright. Too bright, for what little light was actually illuminating the room. “Shawn?”

He heard his throat click when he swallowed, and he didn’t speak for a moment or two. “I–” He swallowed again. “Your jacket, it’s not–”

He cut himself off again, and something moved in his hand when he tried to shift his weight on his arms. It was Bret’s jacket, clutched so tightly in Shawn’s fist that the leather was creaking. “It’s not enough,” he said, and his voice cracked. “I can’t–”

“Hey, hey hey hey.” Bret reached over, trying to keep his own voice as relaxed as possible despite the anxiety growing leaden in his gut. He’d never seen Shawn like this, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t scaring him a little, but there was no doubt that if Shawn knew that, if Bret let slip that he was anything but calm and collected right now, it would really set him off. Shawn reached back desperately, getting his hands around his arm and tugging hard enough to make him stumble into the bed. He only just caught himself with his free hand before he face-planted. “Gimme some room, c’mon.”

Shawn refused to let go of him as he did so, shuffling back just far enough for Bret to crawl up into the nest on his knees. He had to catch himself again when Shawn pulled on him a second time, and he murmured to him as he eased himself onto his side; “I’m right here, Shawn, you’re alright– oof.” That was the sound of the air getting punched from his lungs when Shawn launched himself at him with the force of a small car, wrapping his arms around him tightly enough to make him wince. He was still burning up, and Bret was going to be sweating soon, like this, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, just moved his own arms to encircle Shawn’s back when he buried his face in the crook of his neck, right where his scent gland was. He had a moment to be thankful he hadn’t managed to put his shirt back on, so it couldn’t become a casualty of Shawn’s instincts, before all of his focus was narrowed to a single point.

“You’re okay,” he assured him, gentle, like he couldn’t feel him shaking apart in his arms, couldn’t feel his breaths hitching in his chest, couldn’t feel his tears starting to fall onto the bare skin of his shoulder. He raised one hand to cradle the back of his head, rubbing his thumb into the base of his skull through his hair. All he could smell was hot metal. “You’re okay.”

Shawn, gradually, very gradually, started to calm. His violent trembling was soothed into only the occasional shiver, and the silent sobs that’d wet Bret’s skin dried up into a sniffle or two. His grip grew looser just as slowly, until Bret could breathe a little easier, and no longer felt like he’d been caught in a human vice. “How’re you feeling?” he eventually brought himself to ask, as carefully as he could, and nearly cursed himself when it wasn’t enough to keep Shawn from freezing.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” The words were a horrified whisper. “I’m so fucked up, I didn’t even ask–”

Bret tightened his own grip when he tried to pull back, keeping him right where he was, even as his muscles continued to jump under his hands. “Stop. That’s not what I asked.”

“Christ, Bret, how d’you think I’m feeling?!” Shawn hissed, still struggling, and lifted a hand to cover his nose. “I just violated you–”

“I’m sorry, does my opinion mean nothing here?” Bret cut him off, because he was not going to let that stand. “Does my choice to get up, and get into your nest, and let you scent me, without breaking your nose – the way I would have if you tried to force yourself on me – does that mean jack fucking shit now? Is that it?”

“Letting me scent you because you would’ve felt guilty if you didn’t isn’t a fucking choice, Bret!” Shawn raised his voice at him, planting his free hand on Bret’s chest to gain enough leverage to push himself back and look him in the eye. They were still wet, as were his flushed cheeks, and it sure as hell didn’t take away from how devastated he looked, furious and upset and disgusted, all at himself. “It’s a fucking obligation!”

Bret grit his teeth. “Helping calm you down isn’t a fucking obligation, it’s helping my fucking friend!”

“We’re not friends!”

The silence that followed that declaration was deafening, and Bret was only able to watch as Shawn crumpled in on himself, moving the hand at his nose to hide his eyes when his lips started trembling. His voice shook when he next spoke, several octaves lower than he had been; “Fuck, Bret, the only reason you’re here right now is because I almost got raped yesterday and I’m too much of a coward to call Kev and Hunter about it because I don’t wanna listen to another goddamn lecture about being reckless.” He gave a mirthless laugh, then, and Bret’s chest ached. “We can barely fucking tolerate each other these days and I fucking– I miss you, okay? I miss hanging out with you, I miss going to you for advice, I miss you being one of the few people in the back who doesn’t wanna give me a black eye every night, and I know we’re just gonna go right back to being at each other’s throats as soon as my heat’s over but I don’t want that.” His voice cracked halfway through his next sentence; “I don’t want you to hate me anymore.”

“I don’t,” Bret told him, only a little shaky, raising his hands to cup Shawn’s face when he opened his mouth to argue. He was somewhat hindered by Shawn still covering his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from wiping away whatever tears had managed to escape with his thumbs. Shawn’s mouth clicked shut, and his other hand came up to curl around Bret’s inner forearm, just holding it, letting out a quiet, choked noise when Bret pulled him close enough to press their foreheads together. “Jesus, Shawn, I don’t hate you, I just… you’ve… how you’ve been acting lately’s been pissing me off, that’s all–”

“Oh, is that all?” Shawn said, and it was probably meant to come out significantly more biting than it actually did. The effect was then further ruined when he sniffled.

“Look, I–” Bret sighed, aggravated at himself. Why was it always harder to say what he meant when he wasn’t angry? “I don’t want you to hate me anymore, either, okay?”

He would’ve elaborated, but Shawn spoke again before he could; “Hate you?” It came out confused, like what Bret’d said made no sense, and Shawn moved back enough to lower his hand and blink at him. A few more tears escaped when he did so, and Bret wiped those away, too. “I don’t hate you, you’ve just–” He cut himself off, and closed his eyes again, furrowing his eyebrows with a sigh. “Been an asshole the last few months.”

“Oh, is that all?” Bret parroted, and Shawn grunted unhappily.

“Don’t turn this back on me, dammit,” he said thickly, sniffling again. “I’m the one having the breakdown here, not you.” His lip curled, here. “And I don’t need to hear whatever – whatever mushy bullshit you can pull outta your ass to shut the whiny little omega up–”

Bret lurched back a little, stunned. “Shut the– am I the kinda person to do shit like that?” he asked sharply, with a kind of looming dread, because the idea of Shawn, of anyone thinking that of him made his stomach roll. Shawn’s immediate, “well, no” brought relief one second and indignation the next. “Then why do you think I would?”

“Because that’s what people do! They say what you wanna hear so they don’t have to listen to you anymore, people do it all the time–!”

“Well I’m not most people,” Bret interrupted him, and Shawn gave a choked “ha!” before he continued; “Hell, if anything I should be asking how serious you are – for all I know this could just be the hormones talking–”

“It’s not,” Shawn protested, in a tone that indicated he thought this was a stupid thing to even consider, glaring for a moment before looking off to the side. “It’s not. They may be making me run my mouth a little, but all of it’s… I mean it. I’ve felt like this for a while now, just… y’know. Figured you wouldn’t wanna hear it, with all the…” He waved his hand, as if that could accurately capture just how strained their relationship had become. “Why the fuck would I lie about that?”

“Why would I?” Bret shot right back, and Shawn bared his teeth, but just worked his jaw for a second or two and averted his eyes again. Bret brought him back in before he could find something to say, lightly knocking their foreheads together. “You ever think that maybe I missed you, too, asshole?”

An incredulous snort. “What for? ‘S not like I have anything to offer besides my big mouth.”

“First of all, you don’t have to offer anything to be friends with someone,” Bret said, like this should have been obvious, pressing their foreheads together harder when Shawn gave a skeptical hum. “I like you, you idiot. I like your company, I like working with you, I even like our arguments when they’re about stupid shit like fucking Star Trek, and I’d like to not be at each other’s throats all the time, especially if you’d like that, too. I just figured you’d laugh me out of the room if I tried to bring it up to you, after everything started just… getting worse.”

Because he’d wanted to explain himself. He’d wanted to explain why he’d become so withdrawn and snappish since November, why he’d started criticizing Shawn so harshly, for weeks. But he hadn’t, because by the time he’d realized how far he’d gone – how far they’d both gone – he’d assumed it was too late. That Shawn’s reciprocated antagonism had become legitimate contempt, as time passed, as they got progressively more aggressive and nasty with each other, and he’d lost his opportunity to stop while he was ahead, to try and reconcile with him, to just explain. This whole damn thing may have started because of Bret’s hang-ups about the championship, about Shawn’s attitude, about how he and his little “Kliq” buddies were acting like they owned the damn promotion, and it may have escalated because Shawn hadn’t backed down, had only given it back just as hard as Bret dished it out (which had done nothing but create a cycle of Bret spitting something even more cutting, and Shawn responding just as venomously, in a terrible, self-sustaining loop), but that didn’t excuse Bret’s reluctance to just… say something. Sure, Shawn had escalated it, but Bret hadn’t stopped him. He’d been too blinded by his own anger, his own insecurities, and then, he’d been too much of a coward to open his damn mouth.

It had all become one big mess. One big, muddled, stupid mess.

“So…” He paused, rubbing circles into Shawn’s cheekbones with his thumbs. His eyes were closed, but it was clear he was listening. “Guess we’re both a little oblivious, if we both wanted to try and resolve all this and were too chickenshit to actually say anything. Maybe your hormones aren’t so bad, if they’re what managed to get our heads out of our asses.”

Shawn blew out a laugh, squeezing his arm where he was still holding it. “God, we really are idiots.”

Bret huffed, because, well. He wasn’t wrong. “Look, if we’re gonna try and be friends again, we’re gonna have to work for it, okay? And that means talking shit out, not – assuming things, or letting things fester, or getting caught up in each other’s bullshit or – or attitudes, or anything else. It can’t be one-sided, we gotta meet in the middle here. I don’t wanna get stuck being the only one actually trying, and I’m sure you don’t want to, either,” he made sure to add, so Shawn wouldn’t think he thought he was the weak link between them. “Actually clearing the air can wait ‘til your heat’s over, but we’re both adults, we should be able to be honest with one another and explain what’s pissing us off without devolving into a screaming match. Okay?”

Shawn shifted, no doubt a little uncomfortable at the idea of not being able to bluster through difficult conversations with him in the future, but sighed – reluctantly, unhappily, but sighed, nonetheless. “Okay. Okay, yeah, fine, I – yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Shawn repeated, a bit impatiently, squeezing his arm again, harder this time. “If you’ll do it, I’ll do it. If that’s what it’ll take…”

“It is,” Bret said, not the least bit sympathetic. He understood that Shawn would rather rip his own hair out than be vulnerable, than be less than absolutely sure of himself, absolutely confident, in front of another person (hell, Bret found it pretty difficult, too; he’d have to step up just like Shawn would if this was gonna work), but they’d kind of already passed the point of no return on that front, from Bret stepping into that alley yesterday to being in his nest and letting him cry into his scent gland less an hour ago – really, to being present for his heat at all. Hell, Shawn was still naked – and still hard! (Not that Bret even registered that anymore, at this point, but it was the principle of the thing.) “If you’re as serious about this as I am, it is.”

“Kinda fuckin’ serious about it, yeah.”

The hint of dry humor in his tone when he said it let the rest of the tension drain from Bret’s shoulders, and he released his own sigh. “Good. Now. How’re you feeling?”

Shawn groaned, but didn’t pull away, which was a vast improvement to the last time he’d asked. “Fuck, I’m sorry–”

“I already told you it was my choice to let you scent me in the first place, so try again.”

Shawn opened his eyes just to roll them, giving him a look, though it lost much of its potency due to just how close their faces were. “If we’re being honest with each other now, then I’m being honest and telling you I feel like shit. I know I don’t really have any right to ask you to forgive me, so I won’t–”

“Shawn, Jesus.” Bret pulled back so he could look at him properly. “Listen to me. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to. You didn’t force me into anything, you didn’t violate me, you didn’t even make me uncomfortable. Nothing I’ve done since your heat started has been against my will, or because it felt like an obligation. Yeah, I’m here to keep you out of the hospital, but if there’s anything I can do to make you a little less miserable, or in a little less pain, then I’ll do it. And fuck, it’s not like it came totally out of left field – you asked to scent me in the cab, remember? When you woke me up, I thought…” He bit the inside of his cheek, and dropped his eyes to Shawn’s collarbone. “I don’t know what I thought, but you scared the shit outta me. Not because you needed to scent me, you just… I’ve never seen you like that.”

Shawn hummed, unsurprised. “I mean, I’m usually like that for most of my heat.” When Bret blinked at him, he shrugged, a little sheepish. “It’s my nose. You know how it’s way too sensitive right now?” Bret nodded. “I’m usually just… alone, for my whole heat, and Kev and Scott, whenever they come in, they’re all I can smell, for hours, and then one of ‘em comes back in to get me to drink something or to refill the hot water bottle and it starts all over again. I kind of…” He squirmed, and he was the one to look away, this time. “It’s… not pretty, to say the least, and that’s just from what I can remember afterwards. Crying, grabbing at them, trying to get them to stay, trying to seduce them” —This came out in a tone that made it clear he found this particularly heinous.— “trying to steal their clothes. Not that that’d help, having a shirt with their scent on it. Yours doesn’t fill the room the way theirs do, and since I’ve still been pretty aware of what’s been going on I figured things might not get that bad, or at least not get there so soon, but after you fell asleep…”

He rubbed his stomach. “There wasn’t anything to distract me anymore, and the cramps just kept getting worse, since that was all I could focus on. I tried to scent your jacket, but it wasn’t cutting it, and I was just getting so frustrated.” He made a fist out of the hand on his stomach. “You think I’d be used to it, since I go through the exact same shit every six months, and it usually starts a helluva lot sooner than it did today, but I just… couldn’t handle it. The way I usually can’t, with Kev and Scott and… everything. So when you didn’t wake up the first few times I tried I… freaked out. A little. I knew you were sleeping, I knew you were sleeping, but the little omega hindbrain that’s gotten used to being left behind during his heat was convinced you were ignoring me on purpose and that it was only a matter of time before you walked out the door. So.” He shrugged again, like it wasn’t a big deal.

Bret, wanting nothing more than to grab a pillow and muffle his scream into it, settled for gritting his teeth for a moment or two and blowing out a breath through his nose. “Thank you for telling me.” His voice was only a little strained, and it earned him a tart laugh.

“Yeah, kinda regretting your whole honesty talk, now, huh?” Shawn said, sending him a smirk that clearly didn’t meet his eyes.

“No.” Bret was emphatic about that, and this seemed to not be what Shawn was expecting, as he blinked back at him, startled. “I’d be a fucking hypocrite if hearing you spill your guts made me suddenly wanna change my mind, Shawn, I know opening up doesn’t come easy to you. So, yeah, thank you for telling me. Did it at least help? Scenting me?”

“…Um.” It wasn’t quite speechlessness – rendering Shawn Michaels speechless was a feat in and of itself – but it came close. “…Yes? It… took a while, but it definitely calmed me down. I mean, I’m talking to you in whole sentences again and everything, now, in case you couldn’t tell.” Bret pinched his cheek again, and Shawn jumped, pouting a little and pinching his inner arm right back. His tone grew slightly more serious as he continued; “I don’t feel so shaky anymore, and I’m not as on edge. And my skin doesn’t feel too tight, either, just sore, and the cramps are better than they’ve been all day. Better than they’ve been in like a decade, really.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I guess it’s ‘cause you’re a beta?” He scratched the back of his neck. “I haven’t actually scented someone during my heat since I first used to run with Marty, but he’s an omega, too, so they definitely never eased up like this back then, they just… stagnated. Never got worse, never got better.” He snorted, then continued under his breath, “And I thought the cramps were bad enough then to take something for the pain…”

…Huh. Well that sure hadn’t been a side effect either of them were expecting. Something occurred to him, then, and Bret’s eyebrows furrowed. “So you could’ve just been scenting me this whole time instead of using the fucking heating pad? That didn’t even help with your cramps that much anyway?!”

The laugh that startled out of Shawn was much more genuine. “I hadn’t even thought of that! I guess so. Guess you didn’t have to run back and forth from the kitchen the whole day after all.”

He waggled his eyebrows at him and snickered when he grumbled, and Bret let go of his face so he could push himself upright. Shawn’s hand didn’t leave his arm as he did so. “You’re a brat. Now let me get you some water and we’ll see if we can both get some sleep.”

“Sleep?” Shawn repeated, sounding utterly baffled at the concept. He didn’t release him as Bret threw his legs over the side of the nest and eased himself to his feet, either. He was suddenly a lot colder, without Shawn’s significant body heat pressed up against him, and he stifled a shiver. “I’ve never been able to sleep once my cramps start.”

“Well, first time for everything,” Bret said, placing his hand on top of the one still gripping his forearm. He didn’t pry the fingers loose, just looked at Shawn, and watched as he swallowed and looked away. If he was telling the truth, and he really had gotten so worked up that he’d thought Bret was going to abandon him, before he’d managed to wake him up (and Bret couldn’t see why he’d lie), then his clinginess made perfect sense. Shawn, however, as earlier stated, would rather pull his own hair out then be vulnerable where someone else could see it. His instincts would be a source of shame for him, now that he was lucid again, despite the emotional tilt-a-whirl he’d just stepped off of.

“You can watch me go to the kitchen and back,” Bret told him, making sure not to soften his voice, not wanting Shawn to think he was pitying him, pitying the whiny little omega. (He didn’t know who the fuck had planted that bullshit in his head, but they and Bret were going to have words.) “I’ll be five seconds tops. You want me to turn the light on?”

“Ugh, no,” Shawn said, gradually slackening his grip, a second at a time. “That’ll fuck my eyes up for sure. Besides” —His tone turned teasing, here, and Bret braced himself.— “I don’t need a light to get a good look at your ass as you walk away.”

Bret groaned, slipping his arm free and smacking Shawn’s retreating one, making him laugh as he turned on his heel. Shawn, because he was a brat, started counting out loud not soon after, testing Bret’s claim of only taking five seconds. It actually took him nine, thank you very much, and when he got back he cracked open the bottle himself to spill some into his hand and flick it at him like he was a disobedient cat, earning a squeal and an attempt at squirming away from the cold water.

“Not fair,” Shawn muttered, pushing himself onto an elbow and taking the bottle when Bret held it out for him, not bringing it to his lips until he was settled back in the nest at his side. It felt like his strings were cut as soon as he laid down, and he closed his eyes and blew out a breath as his body sunk into the mattress, listening to the plastic crinkle as Shawn drank. He guessed being woken up so suddenly and thrust into such a stressful situation had left him more exhausted than he’d thought.

He felt Shawn shift, lean over him, heard the towels and pillows rustle, and then Shawn was tucking himself against his side, nudging his head up under his chin. “Go to sleep,” was murmured against his adam’s apple, and he grunted back, raising a hand to rest on Shawn’s lower back, feeling the heat of the skin against his palm, the softness of the peach fuzz under his fingers. He drifted off with Shawn’s thumb rubbing into his collarbone, with Shawn’s scent thick in his nose, with Shawn’s breaths, warm and damp, against the skin of his throat.

#speaking #my fics & hcs #bretshawn #bret #shawn #abo #hartbreak #series: off on and of course #book: rewind rewire reword #bret x shawn #bret/shawn #bret hart x shawn michaels #bret hart/shawn michaels #bhbk #the most anticipated chapter.... the one I've been editing constantly... the penultimate.....#just wait for chapters six and seven y'all're gonna lose your minds <3

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oversimplify-it · 4 years ago

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Story Process Tag by @herpixels

I was tagged by @dynastiasimss - Thank you so much for tagging me!! 😊💖💗 This will most definitely get a bit wordy because I’m terrible at explaining things concisely! 😂 Also, I’ll mostly be talking about my process for 2.B.A Grandmaster but I’ll touch on my process for Erin in San Myshuno too!

I’m also going to get tags out of the way up here so that no one has to scroll all the way through this ... absolute novel that is under the cut LMAO so I tag: @cyansimblr @x-simss @matchacake and any other simblrs who wanna do this!! and feel free to skip if you want!

1. Your writing process My writing process is very, very chaotic, and changes with the wind... Erin in San Myshuno doesn’t really have a process, I just play the game and then put in some dialogue based on the events. None of it is guided by my hand at all though! 2.B.A Grandmaster on the other hand is written in part based on what happens in game and in part by my own creative vision. Most of the time, I let stuff happen, and then fill in the blanks in between events. I go in game, play Sims as I normally would (skill build, take care of needs, go out to venues, etc.) and then watch what weird and interesting things happen. For example, Augusta’s meeting with Xavier in the beginning was completely the game’s doing! He was the only one to show up for the Welcome Wagon event, so I rolled with that. Scenes like Kaitlin’s meeting with Maverick and those sort of things are planned by me, as they’re necessary to create a more full narrative! It’s like collaborative storytelling, but my “partner” is a game that is weird and random and crazy. 😂 After stuff happens in game and I get screenshots, I then actually write for it. I chose to write novel style for the series because - as some of my long-term followers may remember - I had another story that was just screenshots with dialogue on them? And it was very hard, LOL, it didn’t suit my workflow very well and I ended up dropping it after a month or so. I wanted 2.B.A Grandmaster to be something I could post consistently, and so I opted for a style that I was more familiar and experienced with!

2. Scene building For the most part, I just work with what sims gives me, but as I mentioned above, some scenes I actually go to the trouble of setting up. For those, I still use the sims animations mostly (I’ve used poses about 3 times in 2.B.A Grandmaster so far) but I do usher my sims around the "set” as I see fit. I build a lot of my own lots and locations for 2.B.A GM because I tend to get a vision in my mind of what I want and refuse to settle for less. 😂 One such case is the scene where Maverick meets up with Octavia--

I made the alleyway we see here - it’s two entirely empty buildings sandwiched side by side on an otherwise empty lot in Oasis Springs. The only part I bothered to decorate was the alley itself because I knew I wasn’t going to use the rest of the area, but maybe we’ll revisit it sometime and I’ll finish the two buildings! I actually loved making this set and like how it turned out, LOL~

Then I just have whatever sims are involved in a scene interact with each other for ages until I feel like I have enough screenshots to make a scene. I usually have a vague idea of what’s going to be said in any given scene - especially the ones I actually planned out beforehand - but I get some excess screenshots to be safe. I try lots of different interactions and pause like every few frames to get interesting expressions and stuff, LOL. Lots of “Complain about Cold Weather” and “Give fake bad news” ...

3. CC/Pose making I don’t actually make my own CC for 2.B.A GM specifically (I’ve made a couple eyeshadows but I don’t use them super frequently) but there is a scene coming up in the future that I plan to make poses for. I have a very clear image in my mind that includes a lot of subtle expressions and very specific things that I doubt I could find poses for, so I’m gonna have to brave the terrifying landscape of blender in order to make it a reality. 😧

4. Getting in the zone I don’t have any sort of “ok, show time” ritual like some people do but I wish I did, because my motivation waxes and wanes so unpredictably. Some days I just don’t feel like doing anything, and other days I edit and write for 5 posts in a row! I am always listening to something though, usually music, every once in a blue moon a video with lots of talking. 5. Screenshot folder

UGH...

6. Captions I don’t do captions on 2.B.A GM posts, but for my city living gameplay I do! I keep them simple, because I don’t want to make it too much work for myself. Erin in San Myshuno’s style of editing is 100% based around ease, because I wanted something to post often that didn’t put too much of a strain on me. Verdana in white, typically 35-40 px, with a gradient border. Each sim we encounter has a different gradient color, usually based on their outfit or just the ~vibe~ I get from them. Erin’s gradient is Hot pink to ... gee, what would you call it. Sonic the Hedgehog Blue LMAO-- I chose that gradient because that’s the color of the overlay, which I’ll talk more about in the next section!

7. Editing My two ‘series’ - and I use that term loosely LMAO - have different editing processes, so I’ll try to summarize them both. Basically, for 2.B.A Grandmaster, I touch up the saturation and brightness depending on the scene. If it’s evening in the shots, I usually won’t touch brightness, and if it’s night, I might even lower it a bit for more accurate lighting! Once that’s done, I blur everything but relevant elements of a scene, usually the character we’re following or who is speaking. I have to select the character from the background manually which takes a bit, but other than that it’s very minimal.

My shots aren’t super glamorous, but I prefer simple screenshots and actually being able to keep up with a story schedule as opposed to what happened with my last story. 😬 As for Erin in San Myshuno, barring captions which I only do when I feel it’s necessary, it’s literally just an overlay on otherwise untouched screenshots. 😭 I would do more, but again, it’s supposed to be an easy downtime sort of series for me so~

This goes over top all screenshots on the “Add” setting at 20% opacity. It brightens things up and softens them, as well as making the colors slightly more harmonious! If anyone wants me to go more in depth on editing, or maybe captions, please let me know! I’m happy to talk about it if it’ll help anyone, and I know that a lot of tutorials cover how to do stuff in Photoshop, whereas I use FireAlpaca (which is 100% free btw! It’s more of an art program, but not bad for editing) 8. Throwback!

Oh boy, so this is one of my first posts on simblr. For starters, I didn’t know about camera mode at the time, so that’s the first thing I would change obviously LOL. 😬 The framing I did at the time was ... cute, but it makes the pictures feel kind of cramped and small in my opinion, so I did away with that for all of my later stories. Also, Amy and Gemma aren’t very well centered in this picture! Other than that, this isn’t actually terrible I don’t think, so aside from maybe blurring the background as I do on 2.B.A GM now, I wouldn’t change too much! Thankfully, I had observed other people’s stories before making my own on here for a little bit, so I wasn’t starting with absolutely no idea what to do, but I still think I’ve improved since I made these. 😊

This was a ton of fun!! If anyone has questions or wants more info on anything I covered in here, absolutely feel free to ask, and thank you so much if you actually read through all of this - I know I rambled for quite a while!! 🙏

#tag #extras: 2.B.A Grandmaster

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years ago

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Gateway Drug | Part Seventy-Eight

Words: 3k

Warning(s): explicit language, violence, substance abuse

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @edwardtriggerhandzz @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @xpoisonousrosesx @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @scarecrowmax @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @cruecifymesixx @meetthesixxter @sublimeprincesswasteland @arianareirg @girlnight-terror

@fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror @blowinmeupwithherlove @xrosegoldwolfx @mylifeisjustafeverdream @redlipscrystalskies14 @str4nge-haze @reigns420 @sixxseconds2love @leatherandheels @dogmom2014 @allyouneedislove-mp3 @n0-self-c0ntro1 @viinceneil

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"H-Hi." Deana tries to keep her composure upon the sight of Nikki freshly off-stage.

He looks more pale than he was before heading to play, his sweat cloaked body shaking slightly.

His mother, her dark hair curled and bright red lips tugging into a sappy smile as tears bubble in her eyes.

Even without probably knowing the whole story, Axl and the guys know Nikki doesn't have a relationship with his mom, and the nightmare about to take place has them slowly leaning against the wall of the hallway, quietly looking down, uncomfortable with getting caught in the middle of this.

"What are you doing here?" Nikki asks, confused, more than likely questioning if its a hallucination from mixing too many drugs or not.

"I made the arrangement." Doc states chipperly, stupidly thinking Nikki would be happy. "An early Christmas present." He adds.

"I wanted to see you," She tells her son, taking a few steps closer, "I wanted to see both of you...I've already missed out on so much." She explains, looking at me. "I-I know the timing is off, but I really wanted to talk to you."

"No, the timing isn't off--" I try to assure her.

"--Don't waste your breath, Viv, she's just gonna ask for money and then disappear for another ten years." Nikki scoffs, brushing past her.

"Frank--"

"--That's not my name." He snaps to her.

"It's the name on your birth certificate, Frankie. Frank Ferana. It might not be as glamorous as 'Nikki Sixx' but--"

"--It's Nikki. Legally. It's Sixx. Legally. It's her last name. Legally." He refers to me and she clenches her jaw. "And any kids I have are gonna have that last name. Legally. I'm not 'Frank', or 'Frankie', and I'm certainly not a fucking 'Ferana' so don't even start that shit."

"You're still my baby." She tells him, trying not to cry. "I came all this way to see you." She adds, wrapping her arms around him.

I see the glimmer of a little boy in his eyes, for a split second, then it's quickly pushed aside and replaced with that of an angry, abused, hurt, scorned, abandoned dog.

And he's going for the throat in a moment the second she says:

"Oh, my Frankie."

He's shoving her off of him so hard she nearly goes to the floor.

"That's not my fucking name!" He screams at her, throwing his bottle of Jack at the ground at her heeled-boot covered feet.

He's storming off, Doc following after him, and Fred takes a breath and goes to Deana, to politely usher her out.

"That's fucked." Izzy mumbles, shaking his head slightly, going to their dressing room and I walk behind them.

"Nikki--"

"--Who the fuck do you think you are?! Huh?! Who the hell are you to bring my personal life front and center for every God damn body to see?!"

"I didn't realize you and your mother weren't on good terms." Doc tells him, honestly.

"You think I'm this fucked up for the hell of it?! You think I'm this way after growing up with parents who gave a shit?! Really?!" Nikki laughs humorlessly.

"Nikki, I'm sorry, alright?"

"No, you're not, you don't give a shit and you never have, you're just another greedy fuck getting his rocks off from the money in my pocket but I'm done!" He yells, turning to walk away. "You don't know what's fucking best for me, you don't care about me, you don't care about the band, you're not my fucking father and you sure as shit aren't my manager anymore so just go get fucked, Doc, you're fucking fired!" He calls.

"You're not fired." I assure Doc, wanting to go after him, but not able to bring myself to.

He doesn't want to talk to me about it.

I am surprised to see Axl rub his forehead and roll his jaw before stalking past me, Nikki's way.

"Where you going?" I ask him.

"I fucking hate my mom." Is all he says as he goes by.

I didn't know what exact issue Axl had with his own mother, but I'd later find out it was because her horrible judgment in men and what abuse she'd allow him and his siblings to endure from those men, along with her forceful hand in religion that she and Axl's stepfather enforced brutally on their kids.

"Did Doc really not mean to set that up?" Steven asks me when I get into their dressing room.

"No, he didn't." I reply.

"Is Nikki gonna be okay?" Tansy asks quietly.

"I don't know, Tansy." I roll my eyes and she furrows her brows, slightly.

"Do you even care?" She asks me and I look at her.

"Tans--" Duff starts.

"--No, I mean, really, Vivian. Do you even care?" She cuts him off.

"Excuse me?" I ask, practically seeing the dullness in her eyes of a mixed-drug high.

Without a doubt coke and smack.

"Of course I care, Tansy. Just because he and I are separated doesn't mean I want him to suffer."

"Way to take one for the team by sleeping with Duff, then, because surely that is the one thing that has to be done to prevent Nikki's suffering." She states.

"What I do and who I do it with is my business, Tansy." I tell her, crossing my arms.

"Sure doesn't sound that way when everybody on the same floor as you can hear nothing but, 'ahh, ahh, Duff, ahh!'" She mimics moaning.

"Maybe I'm staying under Duff so much because if I don't, you'll take it as an open invitation, and there really are some people you don't have to try to sleep with mandatorily based on their wallet size, Tansy."

"Just like there are some people you don't have to sleep with based on whether or not they're gonna be big rockstars or not." She shoots back.

"Wanna be the pot or the kettle?" I ask.

"I want you to stop adding fuel to the fire and then acting like your hands are clean while smiting all of us." She outbursts.

"Smite you for adding to his problems? Offering him drugs when he's already going down hill? Letting him think screwing another woman is okay--not even screwing her, having an entire relationship with her." I correct myself.

"Given the circumstances of your marriage, he needed an escape." She says next.

"Given the circumstances of your new-found smack-induced courage, you act like you need my fist to knock your teeth out."

"Viv--"

"--Then you'll really be laying on your back to get work."

"But at least I do work. What do you do? Aside from spend Nikki's money and sleep with his friends?"

"I'm not killing him like you and Sparkie have been with your junkie bullshit." I manage to keep myself from having an outburst, more concerned with Nikki's crisis with his mom.

"Not yet, at least." She mumbles as I'm walking out.

"Where you guys going?" Tommy asks as we head to leave for the bus.

"Um… about to pack our stuff up and head out?" Izzy replies.

"No, no, no, just because Nikki's parade's been pissed on doesn't mean ours has to be." Tommy suggests to them.

"Yeah, c'mon it's our last night hangin' out for a while." Vince points out, two groupies already under each arm.

"I was gonna check on Sixx." Slash explains.

"I'm fine." Nikki shows up, his hands on Slash's shoulders, tightly in an aggravating manner, making Slash chuckle as he twists away from him.

Axl isn't far behind, he and Izzy looking at the invitation to hangout with the guys one last time on this tour, hesitantly.

"What the hell," Izzy shrugs.

"So glad you said that, man, because we have a special surprise." Nikki grins, beckoning them with his finger.

"Stevie, c'mon!" Duff exclaims from behind me, Steven exiting their dressing room with Tansy behind him.

"You good?" He asks Nikki.

"Yeah." Nikki assures him. "I have a present." He adds, leading the guys to the double doors of what I assume is a bigger room.

Sure enough, he opens the door, and at least ten girls are lined up, naked, asses up, thick lines of coke down their spines.

Nausea nestles it's way into my stomach, but Tommy, Vince and Nikki look as if this is their promised land.

Even Steven looks slightly off-put by the brazen display.

Complete disinterest cascades off of Duff, a heavy puff of cigarette smoke leaving his nostrils with the huff of his unamused breath.

"Who's first?" Nikki asks.

Naturally, the guys look to their "leader," and Axl reluctantly rolls his eyes and walks over to the first girl.

It's like he refuses to acknowledge she's naked, his main focus is the line of coke on her back.

He snorts one-eighth of the line before deciding that's enough.

I don't blame him--the way his fingers hold at the bridge of his nose makes me wince because I know it probably burns like a bitch.

"Boo!" Tommy disappointedly calls to Axl as he walks out.

He's had his party.

Izzy follows.

"More for us." Nikki shrugs, smirking.

He looks at me directly in the eyes, heavy black liner sharpening the contrast of his hazel eyes as he keeps my gaze, spitefully unbuckling his belt and he starts unlacing his pants, making his way to the girl Axl was at earlier.

He is not…

Duff's snatching me out of the room only milliseconds before Nikki enters the girl in sync with snorting the line up her skin.

That was that.

It's a bittersweet draw to an end, "thank you" and "damn, I'm gonna miss you" seeming to be on everyone's lips as hugs and high-fives go around between all the boys once we get back to L.A.

I rub my lips together and smile softly as I hand Fred my purse to put in the car, sighing softly, smiling when he looks down at me.

"See ya later, kid." He tells me and tears swell in my eyes as I wrap hug him tightly, taking him off guard a little. "Don't kill each other...not even over that dumb shit he pulled tonight." He says, referring to the groupie cocaine platter.

"I'll try." I mumble, wiping my eyes quickly before stepping up to say bye to the guys.

Steven and Slash are pretty easy, but Axl just stares at me for a moment before reluctantly wrapping his arms around me and hugging me tightly.

"I'm sorry I was an asshole this entire trip." He mumbles lowly in my ear.

"I'm sorry I almost got you kicked off." I reply in the same low tone.

"You're one of the reasons they took us in the first place." He states, pulling away to look at me, cupping my face in his hands, grinning. "You're gonna keep up my lie that we're siblings, right?" He asks and I chuckle.

"You guys are gonna make it big and I need a meal ticket so of course." I shrug and his smile grows wider. "I love you." I tell him.

"I love you, too." He assures me, kissing me on the cheek, giving me one last squeezing hug before heading to their bus.

Izzy looks at me for a moment.

"Izzy." I say to him.

"Viv." He acknowledges me and steps to the bus.

Just before Duff can tell me 'bye', arms are locking around my waist, and pulling me against the person they belong to.

"Izzy?" I ask after a moment.

"We're not friends." He says, pulling away to leave, leaving me and Duff.

"Um, I'll see you later?" I offer and he rubs his lips together, his eyes over my shoulder, and I look to see Nikki and a woman that we'd picked up from the airport, getting into the car.

I turn back to face Duff, biting my tongue to keep my tears back.

"You can stay with me tonight." Duff offers.

"Really?"

He just smiles down at me.

I inhale the familiarly comforting scent of cigarette smoke as we walk into Duff's apartment, dropping my bags and running to the bedroom, face planting into the mattress, exhausted.

The weight of Duff's body laying on top of me making me laugh, his own chuckle further making me grin.

"I'm so tired." I tell him.

"Me too." He replies, and I turn over underneath him, wrinkling my nose.

"You stink." I say.

"I think I smell pretty sexy." He grins, teasingly.

"No." I shake my head a little, scrunching my face to my shoulder when he tries to kiss my neck. "Go shower." I giggle when he tries again.

"Come shower with me." He counters.

"I don't feel like it and I don't stink, so--ew, Duff!" I squeal as he takes his shirt off that reeks of sweat and rubs it all over my face and hair.

"What about now?" He asks and I pick up the pillow above my head and start hitting at him with it.

After a few hits are gotten in, he's getting off the bed, stretching.

"You coming?" He asks when he walks to the bathroom.

"I guess." I reply, following after him.

Once I get out and have one of Duff's shirts on, I go to the kitchen to grab some water before bed, the quietness of the apartment allowing different thoughts to invade my mind.

I can't help but wonder what Nikki's doing. Is he high? Is he drunk? Is he even still alive? They leave in a few days for Japan but I honestly don't believe they should go. They need help.

I think at this moment everyone's just trying to see if they can get away with pressing at them a little more without anybody snapping.

But by the looks of it, Nikki is pretty damn close to snapping, and Tommy anf Vince and Mick aren't far behind at all.

Nikki.

My heart tightens in my chest, remembering last Christmas, how he sat curled under our tree, shooting up.

He'd get strung out, then lay underneath the tree and stare up at the lights for hours.

"Are we gonna buy a Christmas tree?" I ask, looking at the empty living area.

"If you want to." He calls to me from the bedroom.

"I want to." I reply, going into the room and getting in bed while he follows.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You know, homey-ness and stuff." I add. "Especially if I'm gonna be here longer." I add and he falls beside me.

"I'll get a tree tomorrow." He assures me, kissing me chastely before yawning and getting comfortable, and I turn off the lamp and lay down, too.

He goes to sleep in no time, but two hours later, in the early hours of morning, I smile to myself in the dark room, Christmas lights from the street shining into the window, lighting up the room and cascading a comforting dim light over Duff's sleeping body next to me.

Reaching over, I run my fingertips softly against his cheek, pushing blonde strands of his hair out of the way, his eyes slowly blinking open slightly before a small tug of a smile pulls his lips slightly.

"Sorry." I whisper, not meaning to have woken him up.

"It's okay." He says quietly, closing his eyes again. "I love you, Vivian." He adds, his eyes staying closed, but he grabs my hand that's on his cheek, and presses a kiss to my palm, holding my hand when he's done.

I snuggle closer to him, laying still and closing my eyes, too, while I reply, "I love you, too," the way I wish I would have done to Nikki all these years.

Years later, while on what I presumed to be his deathbed, he told me that simple moment was what made him feel sure that I was the one. I took everything he had done up to that point with stride. But thinking he was going to die, reflecting on everything that could have been between us but never got to be, and hearing him tell me, "there's a ring I got you years ago when we thought we were gonna be together, but I never gave it to you. Mandy never knew about it. Linda doesn't know about it, but it's on my closet shelf and I don't want to go without giving it to you," broke my heart more than anything he could've done up to that point.

NIKKI

I turn over, seeing the silhouette of the brunette I picked up at the airport, her sheet-covered chest rising and falling with each breath.

A part of me feels irritated because her perfume is contaminating Vivian's side of the bed that still smells like her.

I've been reduced to plucking Viv's clothing from drawers or from in the closet and smelling it. That makes me sound like a fucking stalking creep, but it's the truth.

How the fuck did we get here, again?

Oh, right, me not able to keep my dick in my pants, and the woman I didn't keep my dick in my pants for, didn't keep her mouth shut.

I sit up, walking to the bathroom to piss. When I'm done I look at myself in the mirror and feel a little impressed.

I don't look as bad as I thought.

Well, kinda.

I splash water on my face, wincing at the dark circles under my eyes.

I end up staring at myself for God knows how long, remembering how Vivian would wake up and come in here to get me back in bed if I left her for too long because she didn't like sleeping by herself.

I smile a little, slowly closing my eyes, feeling her touch across my back, the softness of her lips pressing to the skin of my spine before her cheek presses to the same place before she sleepily mumbles out, "come back to bed."

Opening my eyes, for a split second, I see her. Standing behind me, green eyes peering at me over my shoulder, the feeling of her holding me...it's gone in a flash. She's gone in a flash.

My nose burns with the oncoming tears cooking up in my eyes, and I erase them quickly with another splash of water to thr face.

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction #gateway drug #mötley crüe

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

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FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 13 (Mafia AU)

Summary: Rus fled after his argument with Blue, leaving his brother behind to try to pick up the pieces. Blue has already been forced to choose between the devil and the deep blue sea, what other deal might he have to make?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Cherryberry, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Warning: Warnings for implications of prostitution.

~~*~~

Read Chapter 13 on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

“Wait!” Blue cried. Too late, far too late, his little brother was already gone, stepped into one of those shortcuts of his that Blue usually appreciated, relieved that his brother could easily escape from any awful confrontations. He hadn’t used that particular skill against Blue since he’d been a frustrated child, chafing at the limits Blue put on his wandering in the Underground. He’d never needed to, until now, and Blue sank to sit again on the bathroom rug, burying his skull in his hands and struggling to breathe through the heavy, steamed air from the still running shower.

Stupid, Blue thought tiredly. Blaming Papy for his own idiocy, taking out the frustrations he didn’t dare let loose anywhere else on his undeserving little brother. Papy was so sweet and kind, still clinging to some of his naivety even in this unwelcoming Human world; how could Blue ever have expected him to handle someone like that Edge fellow? If Red made him deeply uncomfortable and fearful, then Edge was so much worse. Red at least he understood, he knew what that brother wanted of him, product and sex, in that order, and once he got it, Red would dismiss them out of hand, hopefully without leaving too many scars behind.

Edge held mysteries behind that polite demeanor of his and Blue rather wished either he was taller or Edge was a great deal shorter, because he would have liked a good look in the large skeleton’s eye lights, trying to read exactly what was hidden within them. If only he simply wanted sex from Papy, that at least would only break his brother’s heart. Blue was far more worried about the state of his soul.

And then he went and gave stabbing through it himself a good try, Blue thought glumly. The brief, bitter satisfaction of watching his words strike home was almost immediately swamped by horrified regret as his little brother’s expression crumpled, the first tears falling. Blue couldn’t know how much truth any of his accusations held, but even if they were, Papy didn’t deserve that. Not when Blue well knew how easy it was to make mistakes.

He really was just like their father, blaming others for his blunders—no.

No, it was this place. He needed to get them out of here, away from the Fells, any way that he could.

Blue dragged himself upright and to the shower, reaching inside to turn off the taps and barely wincing as steaming hot water soaked through his shirt. He felt brittle and exhausted, had since late this afternoon when the weight of cameras watching him grow golden flowers became too much to bear. An uncaring mechanical eye watching as he did the very thing he’d promised himself he wouldn’t by getting involved with this sort of people. It brought back too many memories of living in the Underground and doing whatever it took to support him and his brother after their father…well…after he was gone.

He’d sworn he wouldn’t do such things again, made a promise to himself when they came to the surface and knowing he was breaking it left him nauseous, sickened by his own deceit. In the end, Blue filled most of the planting boxes in that room until it became too much, claustrophobia swarming over him, dimming his vision even as his gorge rose. He’d nearly staggered out the door and begged the guard outside to take him for some fresh air.

The Dog, Dogamy, he later learned, did so with some haste, perhaps worried that Blue was about to vomit on his very nice shoes. Instead of bringing him downstairs or to a handy window, Dogamy led him up to the rooftop and both the fresh air and the small garden was a blessing. Something to take his mind off of what he was doing in that closed off little room and when he’d finally brought Papy back upstairs with him, Blue could almost pretend this was why they were here, tending to an overgrown garden for some wealthy benefactor and soon they’d go back to their own little house and plants, back to their simpler life of flowers and hard work.

Then he’d looked up to see his brother and Edge kissing, and his meager daydream shattered.

Blue felt far too old for his years as he shuffled back out into the bedroom, stripping off his sopping shirt and tossing it into the discreet hamper next to the closet. The closet itself held plenty of clothes, far too many for what was only supposed to be a short stay here, and a brief pang of worry tightened in his chest as he wondered about their closed shop slowly losing their regular customers, his garden overgrown and going to seed without his care.

He shook it away. It didn’t matter, they’d managed before and they could do it again. Nothing mattered but keeping his brother safe.

Blue chose one of the shirts in his size at random, forced to yank it down and leaving the hanger at an awkward angle. He shrugged into it, buttoning it up as he made his way to the loveseat to sit and wait.

And wait. Hours passed and his brother did not return while the heavy weight of worry and regret nesting in Blue’s soul hatching into something closer to panic. He’d been angry and even cruel, but surely Papy wouldn’t hold a grudge for the entire night…would he? Either he was too angry or hurt to return, or he’d gotten himself into trouble and Blue couldn’t bear to wait any long to see which it was. He only hoped he wasn’t making another reckless decision based on his worries.

Opening the door revealed one of the seemingly endless supply of the Fell brothers’ Dog guards. This one had large, floppy ears and a mottled patch of white around one of their soulful brown eyes. They looked at Blue curiously as he stepped out and said, firmly, “I need to see Red.”

He didn’t know what orders they’d been given but the Dogs who wouldn’t take him look for his brother yesterday readily took him to Red, leading him down the corridor with none of their ridiculous backtracking and fuss of before. Not that it ever fooled Blue, he prided himself as being something of an expert at puzzles, but it wouldn’t do to tip his hand about that. Let the Fells think him lost in their silly little maze, they could gape in astonishment if ever he needed to make a quick escape.

The room he was led to was the same one he’d first seen here, Red’s office. Only this time, that enormous desk was covered in scattered papers and Red sitting behind it looked harried for once. His jacket was gone, tossed over the back of one of the sofas, his tie raggedly loosened, and there was a teacup at his elbow that he loudly slurped from, not the whisky glass Blue was growing accustomed to seeing in his hand, and honestly, why did these people insist on dressing up so much in their own home?

A glance back at his current guard confirmed that the Dog was wearing a fine suit of its own, honestly, everyone here dressed like they’d gotten a clearance deal on leftover costumes from the set of ‘Goodfellas’. That was one of Papy’s favorite movies, scrounged from the dump years ago and it made it to the surface with them for occasional re-watching. Perhaps that should have been a clue for Blue from there, a premonition of the sort of trouble his brother would be wont to find.

Then again, Blue was acutely aware that the clothes he was wearing weren’t his own. None of the clothing in that large closet was any he’d’ve chosen on his own, but even he could reluctantly admit they were flattering. This one was almost too cutesy for his tastes with its billowy sleeves and pale, delicate floral pattern, but he had no doubt he wore it well.

Not that it helped in the slightest. Red only barely glanced up from his paperwork, the first Blue had seen in this place aside from his own contract, reluctantly signed even as he wondered precisely what sort of devil he’d made a deal with.

“whatcha want now?” Red asked brusquely, shuffling a clumsy stack of papers to the side, “wanna whine about our deal again? gonna have to wait until morning, i got other things to handle aside from you.”

“My brother is missing,” Blue said, bluntly. That was enough to at least get Red to look at him, brow bones raised. “We argued and he…left,” Blue finished, lamely. He hardly wanted to explain to Red what they’d argued about, “and I’m worried about him, I’m sure he didn’t leave the building but—” Left unspoken was that surely Papy didn't need to leave the club to find trouble.

Red’s sharky teeth curved into a sly grin. He slouched back in his chair and it creaked ominously under his shifting weight, "lost him, already, huh. how many times you expect me to play fetch with your boy?"

"Woof!" Blue snapped, too harried to care about irritating this…this…but Red’s grin only widened, his deep crimson eye lights gleaming.

"heh, cute.” His gaze shifted to the Dog. “doggerel, g'wan and check downstairs, kid snuck down yesterday to hang out with the morning shift.” Red’s expression soured as he added, “may as well tell edge, if you shitstains haven’t gone behind my back and done it already. he’ll pitch a fit if ya don’t.”

It was on the tip of Blue’s tongue to protest telling Edge anything, but instead he only sputtered out, “Downstairs! He was down there yesterday with all those horrible people??”

A sudden coldness abruptly dropped over Red’s face like a storm cloud. “might wanna watch what ya say about our downstairs personnel. they work fuckin’ hard, don’t need the likes of you judgin’ ‘em.”

“What?” Blue said, aghast, and shook his head, “I don’t mean the ladies, they’re perfectly lovely, do you know how often I’ve delivered flowers here? I mean the patrons!” He shivered helplessly. “I don’t even like to think what that sort would do to my brother, please, you need to—”

“calm your tits, it ain’t like he snuck out on the stage to shake his ass.” But some of the cold tension in his expression eased. Red jerked his chin at the dog, who nodded and went back out. Which left the two of them alone, again, and that was not something that ever seemed to end well, in Blue’s opinion.

“this wasn’t part of our deal, ya know,” Red pointed out lazily. “already found your bro once on my dime, now we’re gettin’ greedy.” He stood and came from behind the desk, sitting instead on the leather love seat. His bulk took up more than his fair share, but then, he didn’t invite Blue to sit next to him. Rather, he spread his knees wide in silent, obscene invitation, smoothing a hand along the inner seam of his trousers with his rings glimmering against the dark material. “whatcha gonna give me for this, baby blue?”

Blue took a deep breath, calming the thin tremor that quivered through his soul. He’d known this was a possibility from the start, braced for it before he’d ever left that borrowed bedroom. He lifted his chin and said, stoutly, “Whatever it takes to keep my brother safe.”

He stepped forward boldly without another word, dropping to his knees on the plush carpet and reached up to scrabbled roughly at Red’s belt as he tried to work up a little moisture in his suddenly dry mouth before there were complaints about his sandpapery tongue. He could do this, Blue told himself, it was to help his brother, he could do this, do anything for Papy, anything at all, and he never needed to know what Blue had done, never, even as his own hypocrisy burned acrid on the back of his tongue.

But before he could even manage the shiny buckle, hands took a rough hold of his wrists, stopping him.

Startled, Blue looked up, “What--?”

Red never seemed to lose that smirk of his, but now it was more lopsided, startlingly reminiscent of Edge, and never had he and Red looked so much like brothers. “stand up, baby blue. keepin’ little bros safe is free of charge.”

“I pay my debts,” Blue said, low, even as he wondered wildly why he was arguing in favor his own defilement. Red only gave him a withering look, reaching inside his vest pocket for a fat cigar. He popped a wooden match alight with the sharpened tip of his thumb and the pungent smell of smoke filled the air.

“i don’t need to barter for sex, honey,” Red said in a cloudy exhale. “you wanna pay me back, you just make sure you stick to our deal.” He leaned in suddenly, cigar held well away in one hand as his mouth barely brushed the side of Blue’s skull in a low murmur, “when ya finally get on your knees for me, ya gonna be beggin’ me to be there.”

“I’d love to see you try,” Blue said unthinkingly. It earned him a startled laugh even as he quailed inwardly.

“oh, sweetheart, ya never let me down.” Red drew back and offered him that wider grin. “gonna try, fer sure, that’s a bone-ified promise.” He set a hand in the middle of Blue’s chest and gave him a light shove, sending him toppling on his backside as Red stood and went back to the desk. “now get out, the dogs’ll bring your bro back to ya when they find ‘im.”

Blue wobbled to his feet, already heading for the door. He hesitated there, uncertainly, he should be grateful for what he’d gotten, he should flee with all due haste and yet, he could help a soft, heartfelt, “Thank you.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, the door closing softly behind him as he fled. There wasn’t a Dog in sight, hopefully they were all searching for his brother, and Blue headed back to their room alone. He was halfway there when he realized, a niggling, absent thought in the back of his skull suddenly coming clear. The teacup he’d been drinking from; when Red leaned in, beneath the layer of cigar smoke, he’d smelled like golden flower tea. Why would he be drinking his own profits? It made no sense, or none that Blue could make of it.

That didn’t matter, not right now, he could worry at that sore spot later. For now, all he wanted was his brother back with him, as safe as circumstances allowed. He hoped fervently it wouldn’t take long.

~~*~~

tbc

#cherryberry #spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #mafia AU

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yolkyeomie · 4 years ago

Text

Iced Americano | lee jeno

summary — you don’t even like coffee anymore, so why do you have an iced americano in your hands now?

word count — 2k words

pairing — jeno x gender neutral!reader

genre — coffee shop + college au, my sad attempt at humor but really it’s just me kinda losing my mind in the middle of writing this

disclaimer — this was originally made for a close friend of mine so reader is heavily based off of her! also ignore any and all typos thank you

You'd like to say you’re rather good at talking to people

Sure you may have a rather small friend group, but still

The size of your friend group doesn’t equate to how good at socializing you are

Besides !!!

Everyone finds it really easy to approach you and you're really kind back to them !!

That is if they come to you with the right attitude

So it’s not hard to say you’re known very well throughout the campus of ur university

I mean you’re not like POPULAR POPULAR but you’re nice attitude makes people just gravitate towards you a lot

And you liked that!! The attention made you feel validated and loved

was today one of those days where everyone is just super nice to you?

Yeah !!

haha no it wasn’t really

you tolerate a lot of stuff okay

You juggle a lot of responsibilities on your back while still trying to keep in touch with your friends so they don’t feel like you’ve abandoned them or something

but it was REALLY hard tryna keep up with everything

especially when your close friend group was full of boys who didn’t know the exact meaning of organization

trying to keep them situated before they went and burned themselves out was HARD

and then trying to manage yourself at the same time??

sometimes you were ready to throw yourself off the top of fifty story building

and unfortunately for you

today was just one of those days

thankfully it wasn’t because your friends are a genuine mess but

Uni is HARD

as a college student you must put up with a lot of… stuff

I mean some professors can be,,,,, UNKIND to say the least

But usually they were rather lenient and understanding !!

Except for this one. professor.

They always seemed like they were on the verge of losing their mind

And toda must have been the perfect day for them to do that

because your professors summoned the LITERAL devil from within to torture everyon in your clas

But especially you

so let’s just say you’ve been scolded a lot and given wayyyy too much work for no absolute reason

you’re about this close to bashing your head against the wall but you gotta hang on

YOU'RE NOT IN COLLEGE FOR NOTHING AFTER ALL!!!

so you find yourself absently complaining about how much work you have to do today and your friends are like

“That’s tough,,, I’m so sorry [y/n]”

what else can they say really??? they aren’t in your major and they can’t really understand your struggles even tho they wish they could

Well scratch that

they don’t want to understand because that’s ANOTHER work load of information that would constantly be rattling in their heads

Haechan had decided to become a computer engineer when he decided to pick up a major, so his brain was just always fried

Jisung was still trying decide what he wanted to go into and chenle was very serious about becoming a business just so he could accumulate as much money as he possibly could

You always forget what Jaemin had decided to major in, but it wasn’t very interesting to you in the first place

And renjun had decided to major in some form of art, the easier out the four majors mentioned before

Or at least you thought they were easy

Either way TRUST AND BELIEVE if jaemin knew just a little about your major and was able to witness the unfairness in front of him

he’d probably get expelled

anyways renjun had noticed you just getting ready to cry in the corner about how overworked you were

and for once in his life decided to try and help out, not with work tho

why would he ever help with work

“do you want something to eat??? Maybe drink??? I know this place near us that we can go to”

“Thank you so much I’d love to eat and drink and pass out and do nothing about this work when I get home”

yes that’s exactly what you wanted to and nothing was about to stop you

anyways you two were hanging out with each other either way, so it worked very well in ur opinion

You walking down this street towards some restaurants and stores while you were chatting

trying to decide where you wanted to settle down and rest like renjun has suggested

but you uh

notice something strange

you’re passing all the places you usually like to eat at because

renjun kept saying no?

he didn’t want to go to ANY of your usual hangout spots?????

WHY IS RENJUN PASSING ALL YOUR HANGOUT SPOTS??

They were hangout spots for REASON.

good atmosphere, good food, nice people??? they’reperfect !!

so why was he declining every single one of them???

“Hey renjun,,,, where are we going”

“?? To get something to eat and drink??????”

“No like WHERE ARE WE GOING?????”

“TO GET SOMETHING TO EAT AND DRINK WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN???????????”

you two started getting into a small argument, you being annoyed that he was declining every suggestion you through and him being annoyed that you kept question his choices

that was, until he finally stopped

“Oh perfect!! we’re here!!”

You turned to look at him and find that he’s standing in front,,,

,,,, a coffee shop

COFFEE shop????

you’re more of a SODA WATER TEA JUICE ANYTHING BUT COFFEE PERSON

well your parents drink coffee and all no doubt

and when you were a kid you used to drink coffee ALL OF THE TIME

you always had to get your own cup because you’d drink all of your parents’ under ten mins

but uh as you got older

it started to taste

worst?

you started to lose the taste for coffee as you got older and it was just downhill from there

*one sip* “THATSHS HORRIAVKE”

it really surprised your parents

and jaemin

but no one ever wants to drink jaemin’s coffee

please you watched renjun and haechan almost DIE from drinking it, coffee and choking and everything

when jaemin asked jisung to try it as a joke he bursted into tears

when chenle was presented the opportunity he cash apped him money and ran for it

please you almost PUNCHED jaemin for even thinking of making you try it

maybe it’s partly jaemin’s fault you can’t drink coffee anymore

“renjun uh,,,,, I don’t want coffee,,,?? You know I don’t drink that stuff. do they have like anything but that”

“yeah they have coffee coffee and coffee”

“literally,,, you’re the worst”

“No thanks :D”

yeah so you got dragged into the coffee shop

it wasn’t vsco girl Starbucks level inside

it was really small

only a couple of tables scattered about with white cloth covering them and little lights strung up along the walls to make the ambience of the room nice and cozy

There was a small chalkboard menu on the counter as well, with the day’s special and little drawings of flowers and animals around the words.

it was really cute you can’t lie

There was an even larger menu behind the really cute cashier at the cash register that detailed all of the drinks they sold as well

there was also— wait what

back track back track THERE'S A REALLY CUTE CASHIER AT THE CASH REGISTER

PAUSE BECAUSE YOU'RE ENTIRE BODY F R O Z E ON THE SPOT

“[y/n] you there”

“[y/n]?”

“[y/n] move you're blocking the door”

listen you’re not HORRIBLE at communication, it was definitely one of your strong suits in life

But this???

You were practically malfunctioning at this point

seriously you felt like you were in a romance show

you made eye contact with him and nearly tripped over your own two feet

how did you fall so head over heels for this guy so quickly???? He hadn’t even said a WORD

“Can I take your order?”

“Can you what?”

oh god oh god OH GOD HES TALKING TO YOU

wait he’s supposed to do that it’s his job

your eyes looked down towards the name tag pinned onto the apron he wore

lee jeno

wow… you could say his name for hours and never get tired of it

renjun is just kinda,,,, staring at you to get a move on

oh no did he already order

DID HE ALREADY ORDER WHILE YOU WERE ZONING OUT

NO YOU ARE NOT READY WAIT

WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO?? YOU DONT EVEN LIKE COFFEE

“excuse me? are you ready to order?”

he gave you an amused smile and god it felt like the sun was shining down on you

Jeno was getting more ethereal with every word that came out of his mouth

but you couldn’t keep him waiting you were embarrassing yourself

you stared at the board above him and just blurted out whatever you saw first

“I-I I’ll have a uh iced americano…”

What's even in americanos?????

you hoped it wasn’t gross,,,

if it was it would REALLY awkward having to ask for a bunch of sugar packets to sweeten it

but then jeno smiled at you

“okay! can I have your name please?”

“,,, uh [y/n]”

“[y/n].... what a pretty name for a pretty person”

please god you are about to explode

HE CALLED YOUR NAME PRETTY AND YOU P R E T T Y AT THE SAME TIME??

anyways you’re losing your mind if you can’t tell

and renjun thinks your brain might be on emergency mode right now

and that’s not what youneed is it now?

so he decided to save you the embarrassment and pay for the drinks himself and push you towards one of the tables

you’re seated away from jeno so that you don’t melt into a little puddle if he catches you staring

which you did a lot more then you’d like to admit

“okay so he’s definitely flirting with you”

“AND THAT'S SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER???”

“uh yeah? you’re supposed to feel better after knowing someone is genuinely flirting with you”

“RENJUN.”

you love renjun but rn you wanna punch him because HNG YOU DON'T KNOW BOW TO HANDLE THIS RIGHT NOW

“please let’s not think about this right—“

“He’s staring at you”

“He’s WHAT”

please renjun is laughing so hard this is incredibly funny to you

no he wasn’t looking at you he was making someone’s coffee

perhaps your coffee???

or whatever the HELL renjun has ordered

but you saw jeno stop for a moment and glance at you

and the minute he realized you were looking at him too he started BEAMING

LIKE HE WAS OUTSHINING THE SUN

“RENJUN RENJUN RENJUN RENJUN—“

“I’m right here calm down”

“Miss [y/n]?”

PAUSE PAUSE PAUSE

your name sounds really nice coming from him

how did you not notice that before !!!!

“[y/n] your Americano“

“RIGHT”

you move like a robot over to jeno

are you so nervous???? AND YOU'LL PROBABLY NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN

UGH LIFE IS CRUEL

He’s all smiley and giving you the SWEETEST SMILE and jeno’s like “your americano !! I hope you enjoy it, I made it with a lot of love !!

someone send help right now

he made yours with a lot of LOVE

“ ahh !! Thank you!!!”

“I advise you to not drink americanos tho,,, they don’t suit you”

???? what does that mean

“You should try our caffe mocha, it’s sweeter than what you’re drinking now. Just like you !! I’m jeno btw”

YOU SLY BASTARD

I c what u did there

“AHHHHHH THANKS ??? I UH IM [Y/N] NICE TO MEET YOU”

you’re so stupid he already knows your name

well you already know his name you were staring at his name tag

but you’re having a sensory overload so it’s okay

renjun snickers from the back, tho highkey realizing he hasn’t received HIS DRINK YET AND MIGHT THROW A FIT

though eventually he got his drink so he was happy then, tho still a little annoyed with how love struck you were with jeno

you did have to drag him out of the coffee shop because he was going to make a complaint flirting cuz he was getting tired of it

oh and you?

After a few (many) visits you can say you definitely like caffe mochas now

but you did keep getting iced americanos every time you visited

the sweet boy who makes them the drinks always makes yours with lots of love

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succubusphan · 4 years ago

Text

Everything I Wanted

Summary: Dan dreams and dreams of what his life could have been if he had gotten everything he ever wanted - the what ifs that pale in comparisson to what he had now.

Based on the Billie Eilish song.

Rating: G

Word count: 4.9k

Tags: Mild Angst, fluff, established relationship, lots of love and support, My best attempt at being poetic with quite a bit of help. Mild references to homophobia.

A/n: This fic was written for @thoughtathought for winning the charity auction for Dan’s Birthday. Thank you so much for your donation and for being extra amazing! And thank you to @schnaf for being my support and grammar beta and @icequeenjules26 for adding to the grammar and poetry aspect of the fic. Thank you both for your opinions and unthank you to both of you for roasting me (I’ll see you in hell.)

This is an accompanying piece to If I Ain’t Got You but can be read as a stand alone.

Read on ao3

Rain fell mercilessly upon the streets of Wokingham. Dan sighed and brushed a wet strand of hair out of his face - he hated this fucking weather. His hair was already ruined, but there was no way around it. He pulled his jacket tighter around his body and made his way to school.

Dan walked down the hallway of The Forest School confidently. For once in his life he was on time to meet his friends before the first lesson of the day. Some of the people standing off to the side waved at him as he made his way to their usual meeting point. He waved back with a smile even though he didn’t know them. He didn’t mind. It was normal for less popular students to look up to the more popular ones and want their attention in whatever form they could get; he honestly felt a bit bad for them. Luckily for Dan, he had fit into his group right from the start.

He found them outside the library, as usual. Not because they used it, though. “We’re too cool for that,” Thatcher had said, so the group never went inside. In fact, Dan didn’t know what the inside even looked like.

He leaned against the wall, trying to look cool. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Nice hair, Howell,” Thatcher said.

The rest of them laughed - as they usually did - but Dan didn’t mind, they were his friends after all.

Thatcher didn’t drop it, though. “You look like a drowned rat.”

“Thank you, Thatcher! When I want to look like a wanker I’ll ask you for hair advice,” Dan elbowed him.

The group laughed even louder and that made Dan’s heart soar a bit; he enjoyed making people laugh like that.

“Oi, at least I do well with the birds!” Thatcher laughed, wrapping one arm around Dan’s shoulders. “Are you going to call Lara back? She keeps asking.”

“Uh, yeah. I- ” Dan tried not to let his smile falter. “I will, when it’s time… you know, you gotta let them wait so they want it more.” He winked and his friend roared with laughter again. This time he felt empty. He wasn’t going to call Lara, but he didn’t want to admit that. They accepted him as they knew him, a straight boy who did kind of well at school and was funny; a cool guy. They didn’t need to know that it wasn’t the truth - nobody did.

“Damn right! Smart move, Dan. Come on, let’s visit our little friend over there.” Thatcher pointed to a scrawny looking boy.

Dan didn’t speak to him, but he knew him. They sat together in math class. If Dan closed his eyes, he could see that shining black hair and those piercing blue eyes just as clear he saw them in front of him now… his rosy lips and long pale fingers tracing over Dan’s skin.

He shut his eyes, dreading it already. He wanted to leave, he wanted to disappear off the face of the earth, but of course, he had no such luck. Thatcher grabbed his arm and pulled him along. Bullying was a mandatory group activity.

“What’s up, Gaylord? What’s it like being lord of the gays?” Thatcher spat.

Dan tried his best to seem invisible, to fall behind the rest; he didn’t want any part in this.

The guy, Richie was his name, rolled his eyes at them. “What’s it like being Lord of the ignorants? Will you need me to tutor you again, Thatcher? Will you start begging me to -”

Thatcher’s fist cut him off. It wasn’t a real punch, Dan knew. Thatcher could do a lot more damage if he wanted to, but he seemed conflicted.

“You have no right to speak to us like that. If you do it again, you will regret it.”

Richie sighed in defeat. He suddenly looked much older. Dan felt like crying, but he didn’t - he couldn’t. Richie stared into his eyes with unshed tears; as if he knew. He knew that Dan was just like him, but he was also a coward. Someone who would rather be with the bullies instead of being their victim.

It was true, but he was their victim too, just in a different way. Richie wiped some blood from his lip and looked at it as if it was a foreign object, then back at Dan. ‘Aren’t you going to do anything?’ his eyes pleaded, but Dan just lowered his head.

He felt as if the world was crashing down on him like a breaking wave, drowning him, suffocating him in the process, so he did what he usually did when nothing felt right: he ran. He turned around and exited through the back door. He could no longer keep the tears from falling; he was such a piece of garbage. He ran until his lungs felt like they were about to explode. Oh, he was going to be in so much shit for bailing, he was going to be found out, he was -

He reached the corner of the street and tried to set foot down on the pavement but he found no support so he fell and fell and fell, into a never-ending dark pit, swallowing him whole.

Dan jolted awake, his heart pumping in his chest, he was covered in sweat and could feel tear tracks on his cheeks. He sluggishly wiped them off with the back of his hand and tried to calm himself with a breathing exercise. He looked to the right where Phil laid at his side, undisturbed, and smiled.

The sunlight coming in through the window formed something like a halo around him. Dan’s smile deepened as he examined Phil’s face - the face of the man that had been his companion for eleven years now. He saw their entire story on Phil’s face, in the signs of ageing he loved so much. The stray grey hair, the smile lines, they spoke of so many adventures, arguments, laughs and love; they reminded Dan of their history together, their history as partners, as best friends.

Phil pouted in his sleep and Dan’s heart swelled in his chest. He was so in love with him, even to this day. There was no other way to describe Phil than as his soulmate. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the remnants of the nightmare gradually fading from his memory.

Dan shuffled closer to Phil and placed his head on his shoulder, softly running his nose against Phil’s neck and breathing in his scent. He smelled like home.

Phil started to stir, unconsciously pulling Dan closer to his chest with a hum. Dan kissed Phil’s neck, causing him to finally crack one eye open and look at him questioningly. Dan just kept running his fingers through his chest hair, absentmindedly tracing little patterns without a notice.

Phil smiled and closed his eyes again, scrunching his face at the sunrays blinding him. “Mmm?”

“Good morning,” Dan whispered.

“Morning.” He placed a kiss atop Dan’s head. “Why are you awake so early?”

“Mmm. A dream.” He pulled at Phil’s chest hair a bit too hard, making him wince. “Or more like a nightmare… Bullies.”

Phil frowned and held him a little tighter. “Dan, you know they can’t get you anymore.”

“I know.” He sighed.

“Wanna tell me about it?”

“I guess it was how things could have gone if I’d been able to pass as straight as a teenager. That was everything I wanted, to just fit in.”

Phil hummed in acknowledgement. “Did they still bully you?”

“No, I wouldn’t say they did, but they did something worse.”

Phil stayed silent, giving Dan the time to process what he wanted to say.

“I was weak. They pressured me into being like them. They bullied my friend, Richie. In the dream, he wasn’t my friend, but he was gay and he knew I was too. He looked at me when Thatcher punched him.” Dan’s voice quivered; he suddenly felt like crying again. He allowed himself a moment to breathe. “He was pleading with his eyes, asking me for help and I did nothing.”

Phil ran his hand up and down Dan’s arm comfortingly. “You wouldn’t have been like them, Dan. You know that, I know you do.”

“How do you know? How can you be so sure?” Dan lifted his head and looked into Phil’s eyes.

Smiling, Phil laced their fingers together. “Dan, I know you. We’ve been together for over ten years. I know you better than you know yourself.”

Of course, Dan settled back down without replying. He wanted to deny that. He knew that Phil was right, but part of him always told him that he was not as great as people seemed to think, that he was just a great pretender.

But Phil pulled him away from that thought process right away. “Why do you think you had that dream?”

The sunlight shined through the room, reflecting off of their sparkly nicknacks. Colourful circles danced on the far wall, vibrant shapes and patterns that created the illusion of a magical world. Dan kept running his fingers through Phil’s chest hair and followed the lights with his eyes.

“I guess writing about my childhood brought some memories back, and some doubts too,” he finally said. He hadn’t actually thought about it. His mind had been a bit more prone to … distress since he dived into his past and his mental health.

“Yeah, that would do it.”

“Yeah,” Dan smiled softly, closing his eyes and placing a kiss on Phil’s chest.

“So it’s not because you think you actually would have been like that,” Phil pushed.

“No, it’s not,” Dan said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Phil cupped his cheek and guided his chin up, pressing a kiss to his lips, his jaw, his dimples, his eyelids. Dan sighed and allowed himself to be loved, to feel happy and supported. Nobody could take this away from him. He was safe now.

The hail smashed against the window of his 35th floor office, Dan looked out into the London sky with a heavy sigh. He had managed to push through university somehow, graduate at the top of his class and become a Senior Partner by 30.

He loved his career, he really did: the competitive aspect of it, the debate, and helping people. Sometimes he could even go as far as to say that he was happy, but most days he felt merely content.

Everyone had praised him for having so much drive and ambition, which was, in great part, the reason for his success, but sometimes he didn’t want any of it.

He had achieved what most people would want in life: A career, success, money, a loving boyfriend; but when he got home, when he crossed that door, he wanted to leave it all behind. He didn’t want to be a lawyer or discuss laws, or his cases, of the state of the world. He only wanted to be Dan; just Dan.

He got on his Porsche and not five minutes later he was parked in front of his beautiful home. Then, he pushed the alarm button, locking it for the night and with the twist of a key, he was inside.

He removed his shoes by the door with a sigh and the noise of the TV coming from the lounge made him smile so he followed it. Richard sat on their sofa with his legs close to the side, gently moving his glass of wine in circles, letting the air mix with its contents. Dan walked up to him with a smile and cupped his cheek as he kissed his lips tenderly. “Hi,” he whispered against his boyfriend’s lips.

“Hi,” Richard said immediately, letting his eyes return to the TV. “Why don’t you get changed? Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Thank you, do you want to play Mario Kart while we eat?”

Richard scoffed without even looking at him. “Dan, you know I do not like that sort of childish game and neither should you. You are a lawyer, and 30 years old at that. It’s time to grow up.”

Dan’s smile vanished, he swallowed thick and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. “Right.”

Richard heard it in his voice before Dan could say anything, he stretched his hand towards Dan and Dan held his out as well. Richard laced their fingers and pulled him onto the sofa. “I love you, Dan. I just think it’s time to let all those childish things go. We’re adults.” He ran his fingers on Dan’s chin gently. “And you, my love, need a shave.”

Dan frowned; he felt so lost. He wanted to run. He was fed up with all the constrictions, the responsibilities, the eternal office hours and society’s demands on how he should behave. He just wanted to be happy, even for a little while. Why wasn’t that allowed? Why didn’t he have the right to play videogames and wear stupid pyjamas and have fun? He let out a heavy sigh. He felt so drained all of a sudden; if he’d had any energy, he would’ve cried, but he put on a little smile instead. “Could you shave me?” He asked.

Richard smiled widely. “Of course, love. Go change and meet me in the bathroom.”

Dan smiled a little wider and went into their bedroom. It was their little thing, Richard liked to take care of Dan and Dan took care of him too. Maybe he was right, maybe Dan needed to stop wasting time.

Dan grabbed his pizza themed pyjamas, but then he shook his head, choosing to put on his Armani pair instead. Then, he grabbed all of his dorky pyjamas and video games and went into the kitchen; he stood beside the rubbish bin for a minute, finally shoving them in before he could regret his decision. The anime would be next, but that was a task for another day.

He let Richard shave him, lost in thought with his head resting back on the chair. “Do you ever think about switching careers?”

Richard raised an eyebrow at him and continued slowly dragging the razor on his chin.“No, of course not. Why?”

“Sometimes I think this is killing my soul, like I’m slowly wasting away.”

Richard stilled his hands. “Don’t be silly! And what would you do?” He asked with a smile before continuing.

“I don’t know. I used to act; I’ve always loved theatre and comedy… something related to art, I guess.”

Richard clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes with an amused smile. “Of course,” he kissed Dan’s head. “Tell you what, if you still want to do that when we retire, I will support you. What do you think?”

Dan sank in his chair feeling even more empty than before. “Yeah, you’re right.” In a way, he was always acting to be the version of him that everyone expected.

He stayed up until 4 that night, watching stand up comedy specials and dreaming of a better life that would never come. Maybe achieving your dreams was not all that people made it out to be. He wished he would have allowed himself to make mistakes, but now it was too late. He should have dropped out when he got the chance. Now he was trapped.

Trapped was the first word clearly standing out in the jumbled mess that was Dan’s thoughts when he woke up. He opened his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings. He felt paralyzed, unable to move a single muscle, and a dull feeling of panic enveloped him like a heavy blanket, suffocating him; it rested on his chest like a boulder and made it hard to breathe. ‘Is this sleep paralysis?’. He blinked repeatedly, trying to make sense of the situation, until his eyes finally found what he sluggishly identified as source of his predicament: A very cuddly, sleeping Phil.

He was draped over Dan almost completely, his arms tightly wrapped around him and one of his legs tangled in Dan’s.

Dan tried to move his feet, but that only caused him pins and needles. Disrupted by the movement, Phil wrapped his leg over his and hooked his foot behind his knee.

Unable to contain himself, Dan snorted. Even in his sleep, Phil wanted to stake his claim on him. Dan sighed - he really loved that silly goose. Unbeknownst to most, Phil was also a cover hogger, which often left Dan feeling cold and vengeful.

Taking advantage of Phil’s state, he did the only thing he could think of: he rolled them back onto Phil’s side of the bed and smiled. Now it was his turn to wrap himself around Phil tightly and enjoy the warmth, but he used the covers to shelter them both from the chilly morning air.

The first rays of sun peeked above the horizon and Dan couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful that he had pursued his career with Phil at his side - Phil, his partner in crime, his number one supporter, his companion through life. They had been a great duo for so many years, allowing them to grow as a pair but also as individuals in a secure environment. Now they got to stand beside each other in support and pride.

Phil hummed in his sleep as Dan caressed his arms softly, feeling the texture of the hairs there. It felt rough but comforting, like the pavement under the palm after a fall, reminding him he was still alive - overall, it felt real. It reminded him that even though his life felt like a dream, like a fairy-tale someone had written about his life, that was not what it was. It was his reality, no matter how unbelievable it seemed.

He sighed. This is what he wanted now. Cuddles in bed with his boyfriend, a career in a field he truly enjoyed, he truly felt himself in, and respect from the people in his life. He had it all, and he was well aware that without Phil’s love, support and encouragement he never would have made it. “Thank you,” he whispered into the quiet of the room, the words building up in his throat and breaking free entirely without his consent.

“Mm?” Phil mumbled, not opening his eyes, obviously still in his dreamland.

“Nothing, go back to sleep.” Dan smiled.

“K. Make me breakfast.” Phil requested, clearly still asleep. “Don’t - let the unicorn eat Norman.”

“Ok, I won’t,” Dan said, dropping a kiss to his chest and settling back to sleep with a sigh.

A fine snowfall accompanied his trip through familiar streets, but even the delicate, white flakes did little to turn the scenery more pleasing. They couldn’t cover the piles of old snow at the side of the road, the dirt making them look like a brown slush that just served to make Dan’s inner child very sad.

He still remembered when his dad filled his room with artificial snow for his birthday and they had an amazing time playing in it; their laughter had woken up his mom and baby brother who had joined their games. Everything had been perfectly white, but no such luck today.

Returning to the family home for christmas was always an emotional ordeal and this time was no different.

He sighed happily, wiping off the taxi window with his finger to be able to see out. He couldn’t wait to see them all. Once the car reached its destination, he paid the driver and dragged his suitcase out of the trunk. Before he could make it to the door, his dad stepped out, smiling widely and ready to take his suitcase - not without giving him a hug first, though.

“Hello, son. How was the trip?” his dad asked, already dragging the suitcase to the door.

Dan shoved his hands in his pockets to shield them from the cold and smiled. “It was good, thank you. Where’s Mum?”

“In the kitchen with grandma. Adrian went for a run in the woods with Colin.”

Dan shook his head fondly. “Same as usual then. Popsy? Watching the TV?”

His Dad laughed. “Yes, I’m afraid.”

They made their way inside and shut the door behind them. Robert took the suitcase upstairs while Dan shook his granddad’s hand and went to the kitchen to greet the rest of the family and receive some hugs. He had been craving them more than ever lately.

“Oh, Daniel, it’s so good to see you. Come here,” his grandma said, opening her arms for a hug.

Dan hugged her tightly. “Hi, I missed you so much.” He never wanted to let go. It was silly, but he felt emotional at being able to see his family again after six months.

“That’s easy enough to solve, come visit more often!” his mum said, her arms stretched for an embrace already.

Dan hugged her and placed his chin atop her head. “Hi, mummy. How are you?”

“Quite well, my dear, but we were looking for someone to help us with the cookies!” she said, stepping away and rubbing his arm.

Dan sighed and rolled his eyes with an amused smile. “Ok, but I want real butter.”

“Ok, she laughed. “It’s in the fridge, let it soften on the counter.”

Dan nodded and started to work on the recipe he had been taught so many years ago. At this point it was more a matter of muscle memory than thinking, so he relaxed into his baker role.

His grandma placed a hand on his arm trying to get his attention. “Daniel, how is this semester going? Did you get the extension you wanted on that paper?”

“No.” He smiled tightly. “Everything is going well. I need to improve some grades but I think I can manage to keep my score.”

His mum scoffed. “Of course you can, you always do.”

“Certainly, that’s why we never worry about you. How is that boyfriend of yours doing?”

“Thank you, grandma.” He kissed her temple. “He is doing well, he is working on his thesis so he will be spending the holidays on campus.”

The conversation slowly dissolved but they continued to work in an enjoyable silence.

Once the tray was in the oven, Dan finally decided to go back to his old room and flopped onto the bed. He huffed and sat back up, reaching for his suitcase and getting his laptop out.

He settled against the headboard and pulled up the latest video from his favourite youtuber, amazingphil. Phil was so gorgeous and fun and smart. Sometimes Dan wondered what would’ve happened if he had actually replied to him on twitter. Sending that dm had been risky enough, so he had dropped it immediately. Besides, he’d had a boyfriend at the time. There had been no reason to go looking for someone else; it wasn’t like Dan to do something like that.

Dan pouted, ‘Would we have gotten along? What if we would’ve actually become boyfriends?’ He snorted. That was ridiculous. It’s not like someone famous like Phil was going to be interested in Dan, and he had to go to Uni anyway. Once he arrived at campus and settled in, he felt less lonely. It was at university that he opened his heart again and met his current boyfriend. He pressed his lips into a line thinking about the horrible breakup with the previous one. Dan didn’t even like to mention him by name so everyone called him “Voldemort.”

’Would Phil have cheated on me? Would have he broken my heart?’

Dan left his computer on the bed beside him and laid down, looking around at the rainbow decorations, some put up by him, some added by his mum after he left. The pictures of them at Pride as a family were his favourites, he was tempted to bring them back to campus with him.

He was already dreading going back. Oh, how he wished he would’ve stayed a happy child forever, but the older he got the more his loving family expected of him. He was the first child, pampered to no end, every opportunity at his fingertips, and they expected nothing but the best from him. They told him that often enough.

They didn’t demand it of him, they just expected it, out of love and support for him. In his family’s eyes, there was nothing wrong that Dan could do, and failing uni was one of those things. So many times during high school he had secretly pulled all nighters to keep his grades up, but now, at university, it was completely different. He felt like he was constantly trying to catch up but he never did.

Every single aspect of his life was crumbling, his grades, his health, his relationship and… his mental health. He didn’t have a reason to be sad, he knew that. So many kids wished they had what he’d had all his life, but he was still struggling. He was caving under the pressure, it was pathetic.

His boyfriend was going to break up with him, he could feel it coming. His family had been so disappointed when his highschool boyfriend dumped him right before Christmas, they had had to return his presents and all. And now, they had a family vacation coming shortly but it seemed like Dan couldn’t hold a man - or find the right one - he didn’t know anymore.

His phone dinged, he checked the notification wearily. It was his boyfriend. “This is not working, Dan. I think we need to talk.”

There it was. Of course, he waited until Dan was away to do this. Dan felt like he was hyperventilating and for a moment he thought that he was going to faint but instead, he started sobbing. Everything looked hazy but he could make out the water coming in from all the windows and doors flooding his room the more he cried. He was drowning in his own sorrows. He stood in an attempt to escape, but before he could even call for help, he found himself in a lake, kicking, trying to swim towards the surface, but he could never reach it. His lungs hurt more and more with every passing second.

“Dan? Dan!” a comforting voice called him, he swam to it. A ray of light broke through the water.

“Dan, wake up,” the voice whispered.

Phil brushed his lips against Dan’s face. Dan was crying in his sleep so Phil shushed him and tried to chase the tears away, leaving a trail of kisses as he whispered: “As long as I’m here no one can hurt you.”

Dan stirred awake and held onto him, continuing to sob so desperately it scared even himself. Sadness rested on his chest like a body of water, like he was trapped at the sombre bottom of the ocean, slowly but steadily getting crushed by the pressure.

“What’s wrong?”

Dan shook his head and kept on weeping, clutching at Phil for dear life, as if he was the anchor that kept himself from floating away, from sinking even further down into the darkness.

“Dan, talk to me. Please, you’re worrying me.”

“Sorry,” Dan tried to let out between his sobs. He struggled to get a grip of himself, to calm himself down, but it still took him a few minutes.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Phil pressed their foreheads together.

Dan swallowed, but nodded. “I had another dream.” He settled onto Phil’s chest, both for comfort and to avoid the piercing stare that only served to rile him up further.

“A nightmare.”

“Mhm. I was home for christmas and everything was perfect.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, what happened?”

“They loved me, and accepted me and they thought I was the smartest guy ever.”

Phil hummed but let him continue.

“In the end, the pressure became too much. Even the fact that they accepted my boyfriend turned into something else they could judge me on.” He sighed and finally met Phil’s eyes. “And the worst part was that I never messaged you back on twitter. We never met. I kept bouncing from one unhappy relationship to another.”

Phil raised his eyebrows at him but said nothing.

“So this boyfriend started to break up with me over text -”

This time, Phil interrupted him. “Ouch.”

Dan smiled softly. “Yeah, so I started crying and my room flooded. Water kept coming in from everywhere and then it turned into a lake, so I tried to swim but I couldn’t. I was about to drown, but then you called me and I followed your voice. It was like a ray of sunshine flickering through the water.”

Phil grinned and tightened his hold on Dan. “I knew you loved me. So, what does it mean?”

“I think it relates to the other dreams - or nightmares. In each of them I get things I wanted throughout my life so I end up in a very different place than I am right now.”

“Would that be so bad?” Phil asked him.

“Yes. Everything is as it should be. If I could go back in time, I would do it all over again. There is no life I would rather have than what we have right now.”

“I love you so much,” Phil said and kissed him oh so sweetly, their lips barely touching, just letting them rest on his with the weight of a feather.

“Love you,” Dan mumbled into the kiss. And he did, he really did. As long as he had Phil’s love and support, he had everything he wanted.

#Phanfiction #phanfic #phan #dan and phil #phan fluff

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trashboatprince · 4 years ago

Text

I’m working on a main story for my Reverse Omens au, but for right now, I really wanted to do something with Aziraphale the Demon opening up his shop.

So, here’s a little something while I work on the main story for Sour Blessings. I had to do a bit of research for this, so you’re welcome.

Summery: The opening for A.Z. Fell’s Antiquities and More is on Friday, however, the demon Aziraphale may have to put that opening on hold, indefinitely, due to an unexpected promotion.

Not if the angel Crowley has anything to say about it!

Warning: Reverse Omens, the other demons and angels are not swapped, these two fools are in love but they won’t admit it so it’s getting the ship tag.

Aziraphale (formally Azrafel) is a half-deaf, white cat demon, Crowley (formally Samael) is a rainbow boa angel and the one who tempted Eve (There is a reason for this!).

Rewrite of the infamous Bookshop deleted scene.

On with the fic!

Can’t Have That Now, Can We?

Aziraphale, formally known as the demon Azrafel until he stole back his original name, was more excited than he had been in years.

Finally, after so many hiccups, missions, and simply being absentminded about his goal, he was opening up his shop! Well, not officially, he planned on being open to the public on Friday, but he was allowing for guests today!

So far, the only person invited is his dear angel, Crowley, who he knows will be here promptly at a quarter past eleven, the redhead was also so good with time.

Proudly, Aziraphale looked up at the sign that had just been installed this morning. A. Z. Fell’s Antiquities and More, it read with a shine of silver paint on a dark blue background. It was beautifully fitting for the man-shaped being, fitting his color aesthetics. He practically purred in delight as he stepped through the doors, happily hearing a jingle of a bell above his head.

The demon hummed to himself a song from an opera he had attended a few days ago, carefully lining up some of his collection he had noticed he bumped out of place. His shop was going to house his massive collection of antiques, a term he had adored using for the collection since it was first coined during the 1400’s in references to ancient artifacts.

He finally had a place for all his stuff, things he had hidden all over the world, bought, traded, stolen, made himself, gifts from his favorite snake, all in one place now! Sure, it took him centuries to finally settle down, but 1831 was a good enough time, right?

Well, there had been an attempt a few centuries ago, back in the 1500’s, but it had been a bookshop next to a printing shop that had printed a book he really had wanted, but a mission to China had prevented that. And had also resulted in him not paying rent on the shop and having gotten in trouble with Hell for something stupid, he couldn’t pay the rent and lost the first shop.

Anyway, he happily likes to forget that happened and has instead tried again! Same location too, second time’s the charm!

Aziraphale wasn’t finished setting up though, he still had more stuff in storage that he needed to bring in, but his angel had said he’d help up with bringing that in. He wouldn’t help with the organizing though; Crowley knew from experience that Aziraphale had a way of organizing his clutter in a way that worked for the cat. Especially when it came to certain collections, like his massive library and his collection of rare snuff boxes.

As he carefully aligned a bronze statue of a rather specifically detailed and accurate horse he got as a joke gift from Crowley, he heard the jingle of the bell above his front door. He cupped his hand over his left ear, trying to hear who it was, couldn’t be Crowley, it was too early still.

Then he smelled the scent of festering mold and swamp scum, along with other unpleasant things, and he felt his skin prickle.

With a held back sigh, Aziraphale put a fake smile on his face, turning to face his fellow demons, hoping his beard hid the fact that his mouth twitched. “Hastur, Ligur, to what do I owe the pleasure of two Dukes of Hell in my shop?”

The two demons stood by the open doors, dressed in rather shoddy clothing, meant more for the lower class than the higher, as Aziraphale himself was dressed to blend in with. However, it was good to note that this time they actually wore clothing that would help them blend in, rather than how they dressed the last time they ‘visited’ Aziraphale. He would never forget those sins against nature.

Neither of them smiled, they just stared, before Hastur stepped forward. “We’ve orders from Below for you.” He ground out, making Aziraphale raise an eyebrow.

“Orders? Strange, normally Hell just burns a message in one of my books or screams at me from an envelope nowadays, don’t usually send messengers to tell me what my next job is.

“It’s not really… orders.” Ligur spoke up, waving a hand, completely bored of this already. “’s more like you’re getting somethin’.”

Aziraphale blinked, cupping a hand over his ear again. “Come again?”

Hastur made a face. “Think of it as… bad news, but not really bad news, more like good news, but we can’t say that shit, so it’s bad news, but not that bad-”

“I… I got it.” The cat sighed, holding up a hand. “Is it about the second revolution in France?” He had sent in a wordy letter to Hell about how he had helped kickstarted that event, even though he hadn’t actually done so. He and Crowley had taken a trip to the south of France and got dreadfully wasted and somehow ended up on the Isle of Capri.

“More like a bunch of things you’ve done, Azrafel.” The chameleon demon spoke and ignored the face Aziraphale pulled, hearing his old name. It has been centuries, and no one cared that he stole back his angel name, they just ignored him, thinking he was edgy or something. “Apparently, you’ve done your job to such extremes that Hell is oddly impressed.”

This can’t be good.

“And because of this, you’re going down to Hell, promotin’ you back to Downstairs. Heard you might get a cushy job runnin’ the torture department, lucky bastard.”

Aziraphale blinked, trying to register what this meant. “But… I’m opening this antique shop on Friday. If Master Hatchard can make a go of it, then I think I can really…”

“Hm,” Hastur pondered for a moment, “actually, I think that’s an idea, whoever replaces you up here can use this place as a base of operations.”

This got a look of disgust from the cat demon. “Use my shop?” The nerve! No one was allowed to use his shop; this was for him! And maybe Crowley, because he knows that wily angel will also laze about wherever Aziraphale is staying.

Neither demon seemed to give two shits about what Aziraphale thought of this. “You’re bein’ promoted,” the frog demon shrugged, “you get to go back home.”

“Can’t imagine why anyone who wanna spend more than five minutes on this waste of space.” Ligur commented, look at a bell jar on a shelf, containing a taxidermized scene of insects dancing at a ball. The chameleon on his head licked its lips.

“Azrafel’s been on this shithole for almost six thousand years,” his companion replied, “that’s some impressive patience, I can’t stand doin’ tasks up here that take longer than a day. Just plant bad ideas in a human’s head and let ‘em do all the work. Still, gotta give kudos where kudos is due…”

He dug into the pocket of his grubby coat, pulling out a box, covered in stains that Aziraphale really didn’t want to know the origins of. “Apparently, this is for all your bad work.” He said in a tone that clearly didn’t hide his jealousy and bitterness.

Hastur opened the box and Aziraphale stared at a rather lovely, shiny medal. He had seen this kind before, proudly worn by members of the Dark Council.

When they said he was being promoted… oh, oh bugger, this was a Promotion.

“I don’t want it.” Aziraphale spoke without much thought. He glanced up and nearly screamed, because right behind Hastur and Ligur, was a redheaded angel, giving a cheery wave.

The grandfather clock off to the left happily showed that it was exactly a quarter past eleven in the morning. It was the worst possible time for Crowley to show up.

With a skip in his snake-skinned step, Crowley turned a corner down a street in Soho, a box of the finest chocolates under his arm. He had dolled himself up for today, putting on his finest dark gray suit, his pink shirt clear and ironed, and a new hat sat happily on his head, decorated with a gold-plated apple blossom.

It was over-the-top, but the snake-eyed angel was known for being flashy and showboat-y with his appearance.

He spotted the shop at the corner and picked up the pace, mentally counting down the seconds. He loved being exactly on time, but he also loved putting Aziraphale on edge when he was a few minutes late.

Crowley got right up the steps at exactly 11:15, noticing that not only were the doors opened, but two figures were standing in the doorway, with Aziraphale stared past them. And right at Crowley, with a look the screamed ‘oh bugger’.

The demon licked his lips, stammering as he tried to speak to the two strangers, who Crowley hadn’t quite realized were demons. “B-But only I can properly thwart the good deeds of the angel Cr-Samael!”

Crowley stopped smiling, tilting his head, eyebrow raising over his dark shades. He held up the package, smiling, and mouthed ‘chocolates’ at his best friend.

“I don’t doubt that,” the blond-haired demon spoke, “whoever replaces you will be as bad an enemy to Samael as you are. Baphomet, maybe.”

The angel looked horrified and disgusted. He looked towards Aziraphale and mouthed ‘Baphomet?! Baphomet’s a wanker!’ The gray-haired demon shifted on his feet, trying to ignore Crowley to not draw attention to him.

“Samael’s been here just as long as I have, and he’s wily! And cunning, and brilliant, and oh…” Aziraphale was a bit flushed in the face and Crowley perked up, smiling brightly.

“It almost sounds like you like him.” Hastur spoke in a tone that was clearly not pleased with this.

“I loathe him!” Aziraphale shouted, though his face still burned red. “And, despite myself, I respect a worthy opponent! Which he isn’t because he’s an angel, and I cannot respect a demon. Or like one!” He tacked on quickly.

Hastur actually smirked, crossing his arms. “That’s the attitude that Hell likes to hear. I can see why they’re bringin’ you back.” He stepped forward, pinning the medal to Aziraphale’s dress jacket, the shorter man holding his breath at the bad smell coming off of Hastur. A quick glance over the other’s shoulder let Aziraphale know that Crowley was out of sight, hopefully he knew to stay away until these two were gone.

“So…” Aziraphale started, “we’re going straight back, now? Before the grand opening?”

“Ehh… soon.” Hastur waved a hand. “Got a job to do, then we’ll be back for you.”

The job was a simple corruption on, convince a human in charge of a respectable pub to take in bribes, sell illegal content under the counter, and convert his pub into a drug den in later years, that should do the trick.

And to help with that, they decide to plant things in the backroom of the pub for the owner to find, miracled with a temptation to put the pieces together. Ligur stood outside the backroom’s door while Hastur moved to remove the contents of his pockets in the room.

He pauses, however, hearing voices outside of an open window.

“Are you certain that we are unobserved,” it was the voice of the angel Samael, “of glorious being of God’s divine will?”

There was a strange, echoing voice that followed right after, layered as if multiple voices spoke at once. “No one is listening, oh angel Samael, the Lefthand of God.”

Blinking, Hastur steps onto a crate under the window and, using his true eyes, peeks out the window, only the top of the head of his frog looking into the alley behind the pub. He could see Crowley, standing before a cloaked figure in white, the latter having their back turned to the window. He slipped down a bit to not be seen, but still remained close to hear.

“Curses.” The angel hissed. “If only I could understand why my blessed plans are always so brilliantly thwarted! It’s as if the forces of Hell have a champion here on Earth who contaminates my blessings! Who overlaps their own dark influences on my own good ones! Who thwarts me… thwartingly…”

Unbeknownst to the demon on the other side of the wall, the cloaked figure that Crowley was speaking to was actually just a tailor’s dummy from the tailor shop just next door. Crowley was practically tickle-me-pink with delight of how much fun it was doing this. He absolutely loved when he got to flex his acting skills.

He continued the act, putting on the heavenly voice once more. “Why, Mister Crowley, you must not be downcast. I hear news that will bring joy to you and all the powers of Heaven! They do say as how the demon Azrafel, your nemesis, is being sent back to Hell!”

Crowley knew he was acting slightly to broadly, but it was the style of the time, so it was necessary.

“Can this be true?” He continued in his normal voice. “I was going to throw myself into a pit of Hell Fire in my despair at once more being beaten by the demon Azrafel! But such excellent news! Only Azrafel knows my ways well enough to…”

“Thwart them?”

“Exactly. Now, let us retire to church, and pray to the success of good on this Earth, thanks to Hell’s foolishness!”

Hastur heard the other walking off before he moved out of the room, well, he might have to have a conversation with Aziraphale it seems.

“So, I’m… not going anywhere?” Aziraphale asked, mismatched eyes staring at the two other demons, the pupils growing with possible hope.

“Change of plans.” Hastur grumbled. “We need you here, in this shop, battling good.”

Ligur slapped the Aziraphale on the back a few times, nearly knocking him over. “Carry on battlin’ that pain in the ass angel. I’m sure Hell’ll understand that you’re needed here more than down there.”

“Keep the metal.” Hastur poked at it against Aziraphale’s chest, making him wince at the pressure of the jab.

“But I don’t understand…” The cat demon blinked, suddenly realizing he was all alone in the shop now, the scent of sulfur starting to mellow out. With a snap of his fingers, the shop suddenly smelled of flowers, thanks to the lovely potted plant that just showed up next to him.

With a heavy sigh, he shook his head, moving around a shelf to try and return to his previous task of worryingly set up his collection.

“Well, that was fun.”

Aziraphale yelped, jumping a foot in the air as his hair and beard puffed up from the shock. He turned, finding a certain angel, basking happily in a chair that had been swiped from the King of Spain in the late 1300’s. “Crowley… w-what are you doing here?” He asked, approaching the redhead, who just smiled, holding up the box of chocolates from behind.

Aziraphale chirped in joy, taking the box. “Oh, yes, thank you, darling!”

“’s nothin’, kitty cat. I think you deserve them now than you did before those two idiots showed up.”

“How… much of that did you see?”

Crowley shrugged before getting out of the chair, stretching. “Well, I arrived to see that you were stuck dealin’ with two idiots, and that you needed help. So, I may or may not have helped you out of a bit of trouble, again. Nice medal, the Dark Council kind? Wow, that’s a hell of a promotion, kitty cat.”

Aziraphale frowned and removed the metal from his jacket, tossing it towards Crowley, who caught it with ease. “I’ve done so well at my job that I was promoted to join them! I mean, it’s not the worst promotion I could get, in fact, any demon would give up their whole… well… everything to be part of that group! But I must admit, it would be too much, I’d be allowed to do whatever, but I wouldn’t be able to work and stay on Earth.”

“Sounds like a shit job to take, Aziraphale.” Crowley commented, looking over the metal before dropping it into a clay pot. “But hey, you get to stay here!”

“For some reason…” Cat eyes turned, staring directly at snake ones, hidden behind dark lenses. “What did you do?”

Crowley grinned brightly. “Oh, just pulled off some theatrics.” He wiggled his fingers and Aziraphale groaned. “I told you I was good at this! I should join a theater, get my name out there! I’ll even do those boring, sad Shakespearean plays you like so much!”

“Uhg.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes before looking at Crowley, smiling. “Still, thank you for helping me today, darling. Now, how about the two of us enjoy this delectable box of goodies you got me, I have a lovely red that we can drink alongside them in the back, found it while bringing things in the other day.”

“Sounds delightful, kitty cat.”

END

Well, this was a lot of fun to write!

In case you wanna know what they look like, Aziraphale looks like Martin from Prodigal Son (except well dressed in a light gray and dark blue Regency outfit), and Crowley looks like David’s portrayal of Richard II (in a dark gray and pink Regency outfit).

Hastur and Ligur look like characters from Oliver Twist haha.

In case anyone was wondering why Aziraphale owns an antique shop, it was because as much as I love the bookshop still being part of a Reverse Omens au, I also really loved the idea of going off the little fact that book Aziraphale also collects old snuff boxes and it went from there that he just collects all sorts of things.

Oh, and Hastur left Aziraphale on Earth cause if he's really the only one who can 'stop' the Heavenly might of Samael, the angel with the title of Destroyer, well... yeah, might as well leave him to deal with that mess.

Thanks for reading! As always, drabbles are open!

#good omens #reverse omens #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #ineffable husbands #hastur #ligur #john's drabbles

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