#mari writes

[mobbu-min]

☆ yummy in my tummy ☆

requested by:

After reading the pretty boy fics, I got to ask: "How would the dorm leaders (and the rest if you want to write about them) react to being given food from the reader (who cooks and bakes god tier food) who is concerned for their wellbeing?" - anon Headcanons for Dorm Leaders with an s/o who loves to spoil them with delicious homemade meals, sweets and snacks. - anon Could I request something domestic? Housewardens with an s/o that cooks for them almost everyday? -anon

a/n I decided to combine these three requests! I'm not sure if there were anymore of the same variety, so if I missed it, I'm sorry T^T Gonna split this into three parts, so keep an eye out for the other two! I wanted to keep this vague, i didn’t mention any type of specific food, but make it known, i am craving tamales so badly

included: grim, all of heartslabyul and savanaclaw

tw none

Ramshackle <3

⋆ He eats your food every day. Your best customer is the one and only GRIM THE GREAT! Food always tastes good to this little guy, but food made by you? Top tier! Nothing could beat it (the overblot stones probably could) He’s a pain in your ass when you're cooking/baking, constantly trying to get a nibble from your ingredients. His hungry ass is just too impatient. After a long and hard day, all he wants is to lay back and eat some tuna and one of your sweet treats for dessert. It's the best way to end his day.

Heartslabyul <3

⋆ You see once you start cooking for them, you’re not going to stop. Cater and Ace make sure of it. They all love your cooking! They feel so loved and cared for with each dish you lovingly made for them. Does this contribute to their ever growing feelings for you?

⋆ Yes, yes it does.

⋆ Riddle was kinda on edge by it. Not because he thought you were a horrible cook, he’s tasted Ace’s cooking before, but because he didn’t understand the warm feeling in his chest. Riddle’s mother never cooked, instead she had chefs cook the blandest (healthy, she claimed) foods for them both. He’s never felt the warmth and comfort from a home cooked dish. Trey is an excellent cook, and even better baker, but it’s Trey. You were different, always had been to him. Riddle almost moaned at the taste of the different spices and flavors that exploded in his mouth. This boy has never tasted so many all at once. It was truly an eye opener. Riddle asks if you could teach him some recipes.

⋆ So relieved. Trey is just the epitome of a parent finally sitting down after a long day when you come to help in the kitchen or bring containers of food. Trey finds himself visiting you at Ramshackle more often, with the intention of learning or cooking with you. But ends up with you ushering him to sit down and you’ll be back with some fresh soup. He really does appreciate your presence, everything about you is so comforting and lively, so you making amazing food is an added bonus. Loves to learn about different foods from your world, even more so any type of pastry/sweet! Considers asking if you want to do a bake off, but decided not to, because he knew everyone would choose you. (he would do the same tbh)

⋆ If you didn’t have a magicam account dedicated to your cooking before, well now you do! Cater will take photos of every dish you made, going on a long rant on how this is the most delicious food he’s ever eaten. If you let him, he'll post pictures and videos of you cooking/baking on the account. The account is as comforting as your food. Ofc, he has tons and tons of photos and videos on his phone of you. Cater looks forwards to whatever you make, but is especially touched when you bake something that isn’t incredibly sweet or something entirely different then what you made the others. It makes him feel special.

⋆ Ace didn’t consider himself a picky eater, at least not until he ate your food! Boy will not leave you alone. He's constantly begging you to make him food and treats. Saying 'you just killed a poor starving boy, gootbye-' and just crashes onto you. Ace just really enjoys your cooking and he melts whenever you bring him food without him asking (begging). He’s the type of person to sit on the counter and talk while you’re busy doing things all around the kitchen. It briefly reminds him of his own childhood. It’s oddly domestic that it sikes him out for a moment. But then he glances at you and suddenly that feeling is replaced with a warm fluttering feeling in his chest. (don’t question the blush on his cheeks ofc)

⋆ Deuce isn’t one for taking photos but every thing you’ve ever made him has been instantly snapped and sent to his mom. (who loves knowing that her darling son is eating well) He’s not as obvious as Ace, but Deuce tries to slyly suggest that you make him more food. And of course, he’s more than willing to help. Again, unlike Ace who sits and talks, Deuce follows you around the kitchen like a duckling, patiently awaiting your orders. He wants to be helpful! Will gladly take anything out of the oven and carry any heavy materials. Will crash if you hold up a spoon for him to taste test. Isn’t this romantic? He asks himself as he shakily takes the spoon into his mouth. Omg, and if he sees you do your own taste test with the same spoon? Oh sevens, help you both.

Savanaclaw <3

⋆ Another group that doesn’t let you stop cooking/baking for them. But at least you have free access to a buttload of money and two very eager helpers (for very different reasons)

⋆ Leona isn’t a stranger to good, probably excellent, cooked meals. He’s a prince, duh. But when it’s a meal cooked by you? Everything that he’s eaten up til now is straight trash. Pride is one way to describe how he feels, quickly followed by smug. Of course, you’d dedicate your time and energy to cook him a meal. And of course, you poured your love into every step. He’ll eat practically anything you give him, though he will side eye the vegetables and discreetly give them to Ruggie. As for sweet things, he’s not a big fan of sweets. I feel like he’d like savory flavors, maybe a little bitter or maybe a little tart. Or perhaps something with subtle flavors but a hearty texture. I’m just speculating of course, so it’s always a hit or miss when it comes to baked goods with him. Though, don’t worry, nothing you make goes to waste. Ruggie is always ready to swoop in when needed. And as mentioned before, Leona knows ingredients can get spendy, so he’s more than willing to hand you his credit card.

⋆ Speaking of credit cards, Ruggie just always happens to be in the same vicinity when that black card hits your hands. Ruggie wouldn’t call himself the greatest chef, but he is resourceful. With everything you cook, Ruggie shows you how to get the most out of your ingredients. He even shows you some low-budget/free ingredients you can find all over campus and how to make it. Ruggie is honestly a good person to have by your side when it comes to cooking, you learn plenty of new things and you get to share your own knowledge to someone you know will share with others. However, Ruggie isn’t someone that does something for free. So he expects to be taking half of whatever you're making back with him. On a cuter note, Ruggie practically bursts into two when you show up with a container full of warm, mouth watering, doughnuts. Judging by how fast Ruggies tail was wagging, you were afraid that he was about to fly up into space.

⋆ Despite his tendencies to try to keep his emotions to himself, Jack really does appreciate the effort you put in to make his meals protein pack and nutritious. And while he’s not the greatest cook, Jack helps the best he can in the kitchen. Though, he’s a little clumsy (if his culinary crucible says otherwise, no it doesn’t) but he’s eager! Jack is a quick learner so it doesn't take him very long to get the hang of things. Definitely subtly brags about it to the other first years. But if any of them dares to mention how fast his tail is wagging, he gets all pouty with embarrassment. I definitely suggest keeping it to meals and not sweet. Jack is not a sweet guy at all. Though he might indulge if you give him puppy-dog eyes.

[littleplantfreak]

Netflix and chillin’…and killin’

A Ghostface!Umemiya x Reader NSFW fic for our Toyko Station Server Collab!! hosted by lovlies @hayatoseyepatch and @rindous-starlight

Content warnings: Dark Content, Murder, Stalking, Yandere!Ume, P in V Sex, Dumbification, Dubcon/Noncon depending on how you take it?) Descriptions of Violence, Overstimulation, Slight Corruption, probably OOC, a brief mention of abuse, uhhh read at your own risk ig. Srry if I forgot one. Anything you’d THINK is ghostface-esque is here so //vague hand gestures

Summary: Your boyfriend is such a green flag you overlook all the red ones hidden behind it. Once you find out his secret at an inopportune time, it doesn’t really end well.

word count: 3200ish

You’re taught not to play with your food. You’re also taught not to put a knife in someone’s throat, so really thinking about it…he’s already broken so many rules it shouldn’t matter if he breaks a few more.

He’s got self-restraint, to a point obviously. It took a whole week of stalking to get this guy’s patterns down to a ‘T’ after all, and then another two days to pick the right time both alibi-wise and just convenience really. Where and when the best time to strike is, just how much line on the rope he should let this guy dangle by. How far he can run...the heartbeat in his chest should be pounding just as hard as his feet hitting the floor or it's no fun. The sound of Umemiya's knife wet and popping, straining against chest cartilage and muscle. He loves to play with his food, he decides, and when it comes to you-

“You’re playing with your food again, Haji.”  You smile behind your hand due to your own food in your mouth, looking at him with nothing short of unbridled affection. Giving a little poke into his rice, you steal some for yourself. You’ve never once yelled at him for playing with his food; you actually think he’s cute when he does it. He’s cutest, though, when he’s dazed and thinking about something that’s got his cheeks heating up in a field of rosy red. Sometimes he tells you it's because he's thinking about you, and other times he'll say it's a secret as he throws a wink your way.

“Sorry, I was out of it again, huh?” He asks before holding his own spoon up to your mouth as an apology for losing himself in his own head. He watches you now, carving your face into his memory like he does every time he gets a little emotional at the way you’ve made feelings burn through his chest. You eat from his spoon, thankfully, an even happier smile on your cheeks, stuffed like a chipmunk with food. Cute enough to eat, he thinks.

The restaurant was empty save for you two and an older couple at the bar. Your eyes catch the newspaper the man is reading, and you can’t stop the grimace from twisting your features. If Umemiya followed your line of sight, he knows it would take him to the headline about yesterday’s murder and the killing spree that has been taking place in town. There’s a question on your tongue that you hold, thinking the answer to “Where were you last night?” will be the same as ever.

 'At home, of course!' he'd chirp. Hiragi, his roommate, made something homemade that Hajime brought to you just this morning, saying they made too much once again. So instead, you chew your lip before looking back to see him finishing the last of the food, that flushed look on his face again while his thoughts go elsewhere.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The call comes from a local number. Although it’s stupid to answer when you’re not sure of the caller, your name and number are up on the town bulletin board to tutor any local kids in need of a little extra help. Hajime put you up to it, knowing you need something to take your mind off the most recent deaths plaguing your thoughts. When you answer it, for a moment you’re left with dead air.

“Hello?” Your voice cuts through, ready to hang up. 

“Hey pretty girl,” a voice answers as if muffled by something. You’re not entertained by this. If some kids want to prank you, this is not the way to do it.

“If you’re gonna be a creep then-”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” 

“What?”

“Your favorite scary movie. Everyone has one.”

“I don’t like scary movies.”

“Living in one good enough for you?” the voice teases.

“What does that mean?” 

“Means you should check on that friend of yours who was stubborn enough to try and get in the way. Ah…did you know your back door is unlocked?”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, slowly turning your head to see a white mask flash past your window before you give chase, grabbing the bat you keep near your front door. By the time you make it outside though, he’s long gone.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

This time playing with his food was a means to an end for Ume. Less choice and more necessity from the way you sometimes looked at him like he might be suspect. Like the blood under his nails isn’t just from a fight or a stray nosebleed, and like you may just bite off a little more than you can chew. Playing with his food just isn’t as fun as it used to be now that he really likes you, but the call was necessary. 

He makes sure to show up right when you call him, telling you he’d been helping Kotoha with closing up the cafe. He had definitely done that, only breaking for a few minutes to climb out of the bathroom window, do the job, and tell you to check on Sakura since he was stupid enough to try and save the most recent victim. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

He might be waiting for you to figure it out. That cute little brain of yours is so smart, putting together clues, and chasing his alter ego before coming to a halt at the brick wall he's placed perfectly in your way to drive you up it. It’s fun to goad and mess with you, knowing you trust him a little too much for your own good.

His bandaged hand that Sakura had stabbed him in earlier this week would’ve been overly suspicious to you had he not been your boyfriend. When you remarked about how you’d just have to find whoever it was by looking at every hand in Makochi, all the while tracing his own where skin and bandage met, he thinks he sees something like brief unease cross your face before it smooths over into comfort from your current position once again.

You’re on his lap on the couch after all, one arm on your waist, and his good hand wrapped around your thigh as one of your favorite movies is playing. He would’ve preferred to put on a scary one so he could see a little bit of fear on the face he came to love so much. Picturing your hands squeezing at his arm looking for comfort as you cuddled close was tempting, but your nerves were already frayed enough by the murders plaguing your mind that he thought against it. Plenty of time and opportunities to see it.

When he starts palming the inside of your thigh, your back is practically melting into him. He relishes the little content sighs slipping out along with a small hum or two when he gently pinches the meat of your leg, noting how your opposite foot’s toes curl. He wonders if a little pain is the way to go with you.

Looking back on all the times you’ve gotten a little louder when he’s gripped your hips hard enough to bruise or when you moaned around him as he tugged firmly on your hair in his hands, the vibrations in your throat while his length is buried deep past your lips nearly made him keel over. He's almost certain you like it rough, actually.

Thoughts of you are a near constant to him, when he isn’t trying to get rid of the trash in town. Meanwhile, your own head is whirling, almost too distracted by his hands to follow the train of thought you were originally on.

You’ve been stopping and starting those thoughts again, the ones that get you in trouble causing the hair on your neck to stand up when you think about your boyfriend sometimes. When you get too close to the truth, he’s been opting for fucking those thoughts out of you. It only takes a second to see how the gears turn behind your eyes.

He wonders briefly if he can condition you into getting wet whenever you talk about ghostface with him. If he can have your thighs rubbing and chafing together while you’re trying to hide as he chases you...he snaps himself out of the daydream when you ask something, him not hearing a word of it, but he hums in response nonetheless.

For once, you’re a little irked at that, having been worried for Sakura’s safety the entire week. Although he was only knocked out, the man he was trying to protect was gutted! The sharp tone of his name that comes out of your mouth shocks you both, causing a brief period of silence to shift between you.

"Hajime! Are you listening?"

That's it; his breaking point shatters at the twist in his stomach when he hears you, not unlike a knife. Where did you go in the few minutes he was relishing in the feel of your body on his? He could’ve sworn you were behaving a second ago. The guy he killed was an asshole who hit his wife, the lovely woman who ran the bakery down the street. She’s much better off without him right? He even killed him in a way they’d never accuse her of, even if someone talked and told the police there was marital strife, as they always call it. They hadn't done a thing so far, so what's the problem? She was at her daughter’s house for the whole weekend when he died, and although she’s heartbroken now, Hajime’s sure she’ll perk right up in no time with enough support from everyone!

“Baby. Sweetheart. What you need to do now is relax,” he stresses, palming the front of your pajama shorts, massaging you until your head falls back onto his shoulder. That is not what you need to do, but you can't seem to bring yourself to move and stop him.

“Can my pretty girl take me now, or should I prep you some more?” He asks face fully showing his sick enjoyment over you being nearly ready to gush even after going on and on about his exploits, not that you can see the expression as you are now. The nickname has you stiffening for more reasons than one. The warmth from it flows straight down into your stomach where an inferno’s already been torching your brain into a haze, but a small nag in the back of your mind thinks the lilt in his voice is reminiscent of another you’ve heard recently on the phone with a stranger who called, asking what your favorite scary movie was.

 Before you can chase that thought further, you’re flipped on your stomach, face smushing into the couch as he apologizes for the roughness, though he thinks to himself that he’s not really sorry at all.

A small pluck of his fingers in your waistband, and he drags the fabric down until it reaches your ankles. You don't even register that he hasn't taken them off completely while he thumbs your ass cheek with one hand and the other goes to your lips, scissoring his fingers inside briefly before letting out a groan. You’re so wet for him already; must’ve been ready for a while you poor neglected thing. It makes him happy to feel how good he can make you despite all your pouting about killers.

He gives a quick push halfway in to let you feel the slight stretch of his cock as he watches himself slide into you.

“You’re always so good for me like this,” he sighs. Pulling out, he circles your hole with the tip, teasing you so he can watch the way your hips wiggle just a bit from neediness. Once he hears you whimper at him to please move, the sounding gunshot at the starting line, he’s fully sheathing himself inside, watching your arms go to wrap around the couch cushion as you muffle a cry. 

He takes it slow, with deep thrusts that have you moving against the fabric of the couch before realizing you’re jostling the side he shoved his mask and gloves into at the last minute when you let yourself into his apartment without texting him earlier. He can tell you’re only halfway to being dumb right now, and decides to pick up the pace, wrapping his hand around to toy with your throbbing clit. 

Just as he thinks he’s in the clear, he hears a small thud of his mask hitting the floor and he groans out loud. Of all times, just when your walls are starting to flutter so nice and tight. When you drag your heavy head up to see what fell, your eyes go wide, and he feels you clench on him. In fear, maybe, though he’s not quite sure. With all his ministrations during your talking sessions about the murders, he might've been a little successful at conditioning your body.

“Hajime, what is that-“ your panicked tone has him cursing.

Before you can think to say another word and ruin the nice pace he's been building up to, he pushes in far enough that he knows he’s flush against your cervix, but the high of getting caught and being inside you has fireworks bursting behind his eyes and in his brain. The adrenaline has him pumping into you at a depth and speed you're not used to, squealing into the cushion as slaps ring out in the room. 

“Guess you- hah - found out now huh? Can’t let you go now that you know...just wouldn’t work out, not that anyone would believe you,” he pants and knows there’ll be no response, not when he’s playing your body like a harp making sure to hit and touch all the places he knows you go stir crazy for. 

God, you wish you could focus, but the only thing you can really do is take what he’s giving you as the couch shudders and his one foot is posted on the floor for stability. You try to sound out a no to stop him, your hand going back to still him, but he grabs that arm and holds it behind you in a gentle death grip. It’s turned your body enough that the new angle exposes your face from the cushion, leaving all of your sounds to bleed out of your mouth and fill his ears with music.

Even when you finally hit your high, he doesn't stop fucking you through it despite you crying that it's enough. He stops for a second, and you almost think he’s being merciful before he maneuvers your limp body up back onto his lap, never letting himself slip out.

“Think I wanna try something new, baby,” he pants, smiling into your shoulder as you struggle against him. Those big, strong arms you loved so much are now a vice keeping you in place. He somehow managed to grab the mask before picking you up, and that’s when everything goes dark. Or at least for a moment, it does. The mask has been tugged on over your head, your heavy breathing making the inside feel wet and sticky. His voice is muffled, but you can still hear the words.

“Cum with that mask on so I can think of you every time my knife goes through someone’s chest sweetheart,” he growls and punctuates your pet name with another deep thrust before you can feel him spill into you as he continues stuffing it up into your womb. Your nails digging in his thighs only make him more riled up.

His hands are on your hips, lifting you on him only to slam you back down, and he knows this position would be driving you crazy even if it hadn't already been for the overstimulation. He wonders briefly just how long it’ll take to break you into accepting him before realizing it doesn’t matter. However long it takes, he’ll keep screwing you until you’re docile; he can’t lose you after all. It’d simply kill him.

 · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Hiragi’s livid to say the least. He’s yelling into the phone asking Ume how he could be stupid enough to get caught like that. Umemiya left you to yourself, cleaned and bundled in a blanket after rounds and rounds of sex had thoroughly turned your brain to mush on the carpet. The tears hadn't even dried on your cheeks yet from when he’d finished with you despite having kissed and licked them off with gusto earlier. At least you were sleeping now, cutely curled up in his bed wearing one of his shirts.

Or you were when he left you a few minutes ago, but the glint of his knife in his peripheral has him catching your hand before you can slice his neck, exhaustion clear on your face despite the fear and upset in your eyes too. He’s half hard again seeing your grip on the handle. Not a slasher yet, but he can tell you’ve got potential if he can push you in the right direction. He thinks he might have a chance at turning your noble little heart into something a little more twisted, a perfect match to his own. It’s all for the good of the town in the end, hopefully you can see that.

“Gonna have to call you back, Ragi. My girl’s feeling a little extra clingy right now.” He hangs up before Hiragi starts yelling again, deciding to deal with the problem in front of him before continuing his scolding.

“You’re holding it too tight, sweetness. You need to loosen your grip a bit,” he says, squeezing your wrist. Your gaze is settled on the carpet now, barely able to focus on the scratchiness of it on the soles of your feet. How you got here and what you were even supposed to do now are unclear. Killing Umemiya would stop the murders maybe, but given how Hiragi was on the line, he’s in on it. Two against one never really boded well, and even if you didn’t take that into account, did you even have the guts to go through with your original strike? Or did you know deep down he’d catch your hand and stop you?

Your head shoots up, nearly giving you whiplash when he places the knife’s point at his heart, and when you look at his face you see the boy you fell head over heels for, soft eyes looking at you with nothing but love and affection. The point digs in a bit, more due to his pressure on your wrist than your own, and you bite back a cry seeing blood well around the metal. He’s waiting for you to decide, and when the knife drops to the floor, he wraps you up in his arms, placing wet kisses on your face.

“Everything’s gonna be okay...we'll figure this out. It’s for your own good baby, I promise,” he coos before lifting you up and carrying you to bed. To his delight and your dread, he has you so tightly wound around his fingers, and you both know he won't be loosening the strings any time soon. He simply loves you too much.

When the town’s most famous couple goes missing, everyone mournfully assumes it’s the last nail in the coffin being buried as the serial killer wreaking havoc disappears leaving nothing but a trail of blood into the woods. 

 · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

dividers from here and here

[littlemarianah]

I think a lot about Katniss and Peeta pos-mj looking out for each other.

Because they are both completely destroyed, but they both hate seeing their partner suffering. So they do what they can to stand up for the other.

Peeta still has trouble touching her, he still grinds his teeth when he feels her too close, but he can't see her sobbing without comforting her in his arms. He can't see her whimpering half awake in the middle of the night without holding her hands, he can't see her eyes shining for him to come closer and do nothing.

Katniss can't get out of bed, she can't eat, she can't even force herself to take a shower. But her heart breaks when she sees Peeta depressed. When he's not eating , she forces herself to get up and go into the forest. She cooks it and feeds him piece by piece into his mouth. She cleans him and changes his dirty clothes with new ones. Wipe his face with a wet cloth to remove the grime and help him brush his teeth.

They just don't fall apart because they have the other by their side.

The desire to keep their love alive and safe is what makes them get up and do it. Heal slowly, make life better. It's the desire to see Katniss smile again that makes Peeta tell jokes, it's the desire to see Peeta happy that makes Katniss soften.

They do for each other what they can not do for themselves.

[todaywasamaritale]

alright kids, new game

use this for all of your ocs. i do mean ALL of them. then share the just the ones that are accurate

since my sleep deprived ass came up with this spin, i’ll go first:

and an honorable mention for malachi, who tortured a 17-year-old monarch for six months:

tagging @yaboieif, @princeteeb, @jingledbell, @demyxdancer, @rainbowsandwhumperflies, @whumpsoda, and anyone who wants to join in!

[jays-bonnie-on-the-side]

For anyone who cares,

I haven’t been writing since Liam’s death. I’ve been taking it really hard and haven’t had any motivation to do things I enjoy, and that ofc includes reading/writing. Any time I see things/content/people I enjoy, my mind goes back to the devastating reality and it pulls me back under. I’ve lost all joy and have been numb to so many things. It’s been a week since his passing and I’m slowly doing better. Hopefully I’ll begin to write again soon and put something out for you guys that I haven’t previously written. Thank you to everyone who’s been so patient, and took the time to read this.

Lots of love,

Mari

[incogxmari]

Dichotomy, Part 1

Dichotomy;

noun, plural di·chot·o·mies.:

• something with seemingly contradictory qualities.

Pairing: Ghost x F!reader

Series summary:

Unbeknownst to you, one night you unintentionally catch the eye of Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley. What first starts out as an idle interest quickly devolves into a dark obsession.

Warnings: brief violence (nothing major or graphic, not directed at reader), some sleazy characters with unsavory intentions.

—

It started out with something that seemed so inconsequential at the time.

He'd been at a pub, one of his local stomping grounds when he was on leave. Simon hadn’t even really taken notice of you at first, not even a blip on his radar. You were a wallflower, obviously uncomfortable to be there and just trying to make yourself disappear. You had a girlfriend with you, loud, bubbly, outgoing, obviously the one to convince you to tag along.

He’d taken one look at the both of you, idly noted you both were pretty little things, before shifting his gaze elsewhere and continuing to sip his beer.

As the night progressed he would every so often find his gaze shifting back to the two of you, noting how while you barely touched your first drink, your friend was well on her way to getting sloshed. It was apparent how you tried to advise your friend to slow down, to take it easy, but it did little good. It wasn’t long before others started to take notice of you both as well, thinking they might land an easy lay.

More than one bloke sauntered up to your table, all smarmy and sleazy. You would shrink under the attention, would politely and quietly rebuff the advances. Your friend was less tactful, telling them to get lost, sod off, neither of you were looking for additional company, thank you very much. It led to some profanities being tossed your way (you would flinch, your friend would sneer), but little else came of it as the pursuers moved along to look for easier prey.

It was about as banal and uninteresting as it could be.

But then you surprised Simon.

You finally succeeded in cutting your friend off and convincing her it was time to head home. She was well past drunk and snickered as you came over to help support her weight after paying the tab. It was slow progress as you both made your way to the door, your friend stumbling along in her heels and giggling up a storm. Movement caught Simon's eye and he immediately locked onto another male that was coming to intercept you both on your way to the exit. To anyone not looking for it, they would miss the nasty gleam in his eyes in favor of the charming smile on his face.

Simon recognized that look, knew it meant nothing good for either of you, and considered whether or not it was worth the trouble to get involved. With a long suffering sigh and a grumble under his breath about how he must be going soft, he stood from his table and started to make his way over in case things turned sour.

He watched as the man stepped in front of you both, probably offering his help. Simon could only see the profile of your face as you turned him down, moving to step around him when he intercepted you both again, this time more insistent and smile less friendly.

Simon saw how this man started to reach out for your friend and suddenly it was like a switch flipped in you.

Your eyes narrowed with a fury reserved for mothers protecting their young, lips pulled back in a snarl. All traces of your once meek posture vanished in an instant, spine straightening as you tugged your friend out of reach, shifting to put yourself between the two.

Something in Simon perked up and took notice at the shift.

"Don’t fucking touch her!"

You barked the order at him with all of the force of a seasoned drill sergeant, and you looked ready to tear out the man’s throat with your teeth if he didn’t heed your demand. Interest sparked in Simon's chest, thick and feverish and dark.

Naturally your exclamation drew the attention of several patrons and they turned to look at source of the disturbance, much of the idle background chatter in the pub going quiet. The added attention caused the man to flush, eyes darkening in a glare as he took a step back, hands up and palms out.

Simon saw through the pathetic attempt to appear non-threatening in an instant. He recognized the look of a predator ready to bide their time when he saw one. (As his targets could attest moments before they became a cooling corpse on the ground, Ghost was a beast that excelled in the delayed gratification of a hunt.)

"Christ, fine, no need to fuckin' scream."

Simon watched as you continued to stare the man down as he stepped to the side to let you both pass. Once he was out of the way, you marched your way to the exit while still being mindful of your friend's unsteady gait. Once you passed through the doorway the other patrons returned to their festivities, interruption forgotten. They paid no mind to how the man slowly made his way to the back door you both had just left through, slinking along unnoticed.

But they also failed to notice the wraith that shadowed the would-be predator out into the alleyway.

Ghost caught sight of you two farther down the alley, making your way towards the parking lot, unaware of the male advancing on you both. It took no effort for Ghost to catch up to the man, to slide up behind him and slip one thick arm around his throat in a swift sleeper hold. The man couldn’t even yelp with the force constricting around his throat, the only sound escaping being a hoarse puff of air. Neither of you two took notice, unable to hear the noise over the music playing from at the patio at the front of the pub.

It was almost cute how the man tried to fight his grip, the desperate clawing at his arms growing weaker as the seconds ticked by. Just as the man started to go limp, Ghost released the hold and shifted his grip to slam his victim face fist into the side of the building with a sickening crack. He watched apathetically as the man crumpled to the ground, blood starting to pool onto the concrete from his broken nose. Considering the force of the blow, the man would be lucky if a broken nose and a shattered sinus cavity was all the trauma he suffered.

Once Ghost was certain he wouldn’t be getting back up, he swiftly rummaged through the man's pockets, knowing that while he was in the blind spot of the surveillance cameras, there was no telling when someone would come through the door next. He quickly found the man's wallet, phone, and keys. He left the keys but took all of the cash within the wallet before tossing it on the ground next to the body. Then, upon spotting the watch on the man's wrist, knelt down and pocketed that as well. Satisfied with his handiwork of the staged mugging, Ghost turned and made his way back into the building, with everyone inside none the wiser.

Settling down back at his table, Simon found his thoughts drifting back to you. What had at first started as passing curiosity then a reluctant decision to get involved had quickly evolved into a personal investment on Simon's part. The dichotomy of you was compelling. He knew that the quiet, soft spoken behavior you exhibited earlier wasn’t a ruse, that much was obvious. But that righteous, protective animosity was also just as genuine.

A faint, barely there smile graced Simon's lips. He found himself keen to solve this intriguing new puzzle you posed.

Unfortunately for you.

———

©incogxmari 2024. Please don’t steal, repost, copy, plagiarize, or translate any of my works without my permission. I do NOT allow or condone my writing to be used in/for AI under any circumstances.

[strsburn]

hii!! can u pls write a drabble for lo'ak x fem va'vi where the reader fell first but he fell harder 😔 like he realized that the reader was so good at handling Tuk and made him think of how good their relationship is and how the reader handles lo'ak's doubts and whatnots. thank uu!!

something there  ♡۰⸼ ۫ lo'ak

thank you for this request anon! i love this idea, and thankfully after being able to buy atwow on digital, i got over my writer's block. hopefully you like this x

Despite the attitude lo'ak often portrayed, he was a family man. Sure, he rolled his eyes whenever his brother pulled him into a side hug, and scoffed whenever his mother tasked him with bringing tuk along on his adventures, but he loved his family. He would do absolutely anything for them.

So, when he witnessed you, a pretty girl, but a stranger no less, indulging his little sister by playing along with her games, and being so genuinely invested in what she had to say, he was intrigued.

He watched with rapt interest as the two of you wrestled playfully, rolling around in the leaves, sending dirt everywhere as you both laughed in content. You, going as far as feigning fear when Tuk hissed playfully, her small fangs not fully grown, posing more of an angry kitten if anything.

"Lo'ak! Come meet y/n, she's so pretty, and cool. She plays with me and let's me win too!" Tuk cheered. Lo'ak had no choice but to come over as you had sat up, and been made aware of his presence.

It was only when you turned to face him, did he realize, you were not a stranger at all. In fact, he knew you. you had been the first female omaticayan to tame their ikran in under five minutes. an achievement that made him envious. you were the clan's best weaver as well, often creating the outfits for the festivities, and you were beautiful. a fact that all the male na'vi were aware of. himself included.

he felt himself stumble at the revelation, and his ears pinned back as you giggled along with tuk at his misstep. tail flicking behind him he tried to remain nonchalant as he neared you, offering a nod that had you raising a confused brow.

"uh..hey." he offered lamely, sending a sharp glare at tuk when she giggled, and made googly eyes, no doubt mocking his expression.

You smiled at him, offering a wave and he mentally cursed when he felt his tail swish happily at your sudden attention. What the hell was going on with him. He had just spoken two words to you, and all of a sudden his heart was fluttering in his chest, as if trying to find it's way back to whoever had stolen it.

Oh.

Oh.

You had harbored a crush for Lo'ak, for as long as you could remember. Often tagging along with his siblings to their home, hoping to get a glimpse of him, and even trying to strike a conversation with him. He never seemed to be interested or even aware of your presence, and you had backed off, assuming your duties, all while trying to get over your feelings.

However, it seemed as if things had flipped, and now he was seeking you out. Finding excuses to spend more time with you, and watching you with such an intense gaze you'd have to look away.

Your relationship seemed to develop, yet neither of you made a move to further it, despite the obvious interest from both parties.

You sighed as you played with a yovo fruit, appetite now dissipated as you had allowed your thoughts to trail too far.

You perked up as a familiar voice called your name, tail swaying with interest as Lo'ak approached you, a nervous gait to his usual smug strut. His tail twitched nervously behind him, and you wondered what could have possibly made him so unsure of himself.

You knew he constantly compared himself to his older brother, and to his dad, to whom he looked up to, and strived to be. It saddened you that he didn't view himself as you did, confident, caring, and a strong heart.

"What is it, ma Lo'ak?" You asked, smiling proudly when a slight coloring appeared on his cheeks at your usual affectionate term for him.

He played with his fingers, before he took a deep breathe, and straightened up. His eyes found yours, and your breathe hitched at the adoration in his gaze.

"Oel ngati kameie." He spoke to you softly, his fingers trailing from his forehead towards you, in the traditional na'vi way. However those three words were laced with everything he didn't say. It was not a greeting, but a confession.

A smile broke out on your face as you repeated the gesture, a smile curling up on Lo'ak's lips as he stepped closer.

"I see you, Lo'ak. I always have."

You pulled him down, and into a kiss.

Nothing had ever felt so right.

[leon-swedfinqs]

Every Action, Crashing Down

Aziraphale had been twisting himself into a panic as he desperately tries to find the right time to break the news to his partner. This was for his safety, this was for the best, wasn’t it?

Crowley has been trying, again and again, to find the right moment, the right words to finally expose what the two of them have been too afraid to admit. Finally, he’s given that chance.

A Good Omens D&D Au take on the final 15 minutes of 2x06. A much happier ending, thankfully.

Read Under The Cut

Aziraphale was at his wits end, it felt like. Like he hasn’t had a chance to properly breathe, a chance to slow down. His chest was heavy with the burden of guilt.

The image of Crowley kneeling on the ground, his skin burned and clothes charred as the recently freed celestial energy seemed to swirl around him and taunt him in mockery. The colorful swirls made his tears look like gold, as he shook and held the recently transformed scale-covered claw against his chest. Adam Young was a few feet away, fallen into a pile made up of his friends, also frozen in fear as they stared at the stars and fire that prevented anyone from getting too close. Aziraphale wasn’t even physically there, instead standing alongside the illusionist’s spirit as he was physically trapped in the town square by a witch finder and the townspeople holding him, bound in rope that ate at his wrists and ankles.

Crowley was freed, in the end. He had approached in his ethereal form and protected him from the light, though Aziraphale struggled to remember how. But even once it seemed like his partner was safe, the two were kept at a distance as Aziraphale was questioned for his affiliation and Crowley was brought back to the Young residence to heal with the boy.

All the cleric could think of was how he was the reason Crowley was inadvertently hurt by him. By his insistence, his stubbornness, his inability to lie and keep a secret. Pulled his partner directly into the mouth of the beast that was his biggest nightmare. One thing led to another, of course, as those thoughts brought on more memories of their previous travels. Again and again and again, it seemed that Aziraphale’s decisions kept hurting him, putting them both in danger, making them lose tremendous amounts of money.

Aziraphale understood that this was flawed thinking. He understood that not everything his mind and memory was telling him was true. His was stuck in his head, he was overthinking it surely.

“If you were putting Crowley at risk, then he would’ve left on his own a long time ago.”

But could that really be true? What if he simply stayed out of pity for the naive and silly cleric with little magic skills and a peculiar religious connection?

These thoughts continued to plague Aziraphale for weeks on end, long after Crowley had healed and was more than ready to go on more quests together. It seemed that the tiefling was eager, in fact, despite what his aloof manner makes it seem like. At every turn he was pulling Aziraphale to do something new, urging towards a more settled down sort of life in their base between missions. It was like a dance the two would perform.

Aziraphale would start and lead with his guilt and concern over Crowley, desperately wanting nothing more than to protect him and offer him security. Keep him from the prying eyes from the townsfolk, to keep him concealed by whatever was searching for him, by trying his best to keep his distance.

Crowley would answer and guide with a rebuttal of sorts. He would derail Aziraphale’s subtle attempts to try to leave or push him away by accepting long term-high reward quests, or making an elaborate dinner to share together by the fire. In the heat of battle Crowley would jump to protect, to assist, even to heal with potions. He was more open, more willing, he kept pulling.

Their actions told opposite stories, their actions told opposite pleas.

“I want to keep you safe. And safe is away from me.”

“I want to keep you close. I want you to be close. You complete me.”

But these words were never once spoken to the other. They just kept dancing.

However, one of the two was the better reader.

The cleric was acting weird, Crowley couldn’t help but wonder on a near daily basis.

During those weeks he spent cooped up in an estate house, going on missions alone to provide money for them to sustain themselves, Crowley kept going back and forth on if he wanted to stay once this was all over. Their arrangement was temporary — they stuck together because it was convenient, because it was easy. They were lacking integral skills in order to survive and thrive as adventurers, they needed the help in order to build up their abilities and become more capable. The more solo missions he takes, the more Crowley realized that he’s more than capable of being on his own. His aim is consistently accurate, he has the knowledge to mix his own healing potions, his stealth skills have vastly improved — why should he even bother staying with someone else? Sticking with another body fundamentally makes it harder for him to hide as he has no choice but to remain low for the rest of his life. Due to this partnership, his name is plastered on job ads, and he’s the regular at many businesses back in their home base village. He’s exposed, open, and vulnerable. Having someone else is just plain cumbersome.

The security and care he felt while he was shielded by Aziraphale’s spirit when it felt like he was about to nearly lose everything he worked so hard for was something Crowley never experienced before. As he was surrounded by Aziraphale’s presence, the light blocked by bright wings and the soft yellow glow of the halo, Crowley finally understood why he subconsciously stuck around for so long.

The dance, their arrangement.

His own actions to keep the music going.

It was an act of love.

For weeks, now that he has a clear head, Crowley has been plotting a way to expose their dance and ask to make it their reality. This comfort, this sense of home, this love, was something he didn’t want to let go.

Crowley had an idea in his head on how this was going to play out.

He was going to make sure to choose a day where it was clear that Aziraphale was in a good mood. A day where he felt more relaxed and comfortable, openly smiling and accepting to small physical touches, willing to go out on brief trips, simply just exist without a guilty expression on his face.

Then he was going to whisk the two of them away for a nice brunch out in town at their favorite bakery.

As his partner would indulge in his favorite pastries, Crowley would (gently) expose their dance and confess how he feels. Of course, the Angel would brightly smile and return the sentiment, and they get to stay together.

The plan was perfect, it was fool proof.

It took a while for him to build up the nerve to even consider choosing a day — it seemed that Aziraphale was all over the place, acting oddly distant and dismissive. It seemed as if he was worried over Crowley, at least from his perspective. He would occasionally catch a few side glances every now and then.

Finally, finally it seemed like he was able to catch the perfect moment.

Aziraphale was trying to plan to break the news to Crowley — he wanted to protect him, to keep him safe, to keep him out of the public eye to keep him hidden. He was practically a walking beacon with his halos and sword, two items that screamed his affiliation. He can’t have the tiefling follow behind him all of the time if all he did was attract attention.

As much as it broke his heart, they had to go their separate ways. While he longed for them to continue traveling together, for them to be together at a deeper level, this was the more logical step for their long-term survival.

He had a simple plan to lay it easy for the rogue.

First, he had to catch him on a good day. One where Crowley was relaxed and comfortable, least likely to explode into a bad mood.

Then, he would make sure that Crowley was sitting down — preferably with a cup of coffee or even whisky to calm the nerves.

Finally, he would admit his thoughts and propose the idea that they should travel alone from now on. Hopefully, Crowley would understand where he was coming from and easily agree.

It was simple. It was perfect.

Now he just had to calm his nerves and go for it.

Later that week, as the two stood together in the kitchen to share their morning tea and toast, both of them clocked how at ease the other seemed. Aziraphale hummed as he stirred the sugar and honey into his mug, and Crowley would quietly sway as he stood besides his chair.

The cleric wasn’t running away.

The rogue wasn’t antsy.

They’ve accepted their plans and were ready to move forward.

After cleaning up the dishes, Crowley quietly slipped out of their small base to head out into town to check on the bakery to double check that it was going to be serving breakfast later that day (and possibly to ask one of the employees to save a few pastries for when they arrive as they do tend to sell out).

“Ah, Mr. Crowley! Good morning to you,” the employee, a lovely half-elf he had come to know as Nina, hummed. “The usual I suppose?”

“Add in a dash of cream with it, please — I need to keep my nerves,” Crowley said as he leaned against the counter.

“Your nerves?” Nina asked with a quirk of her eyebrow. “Is something going on?”

Crowley had practically become a regular at this bakery, with how often Aziraphale would send him there to pick up bread or quick meals for them to share. While he would wait for one of the bakers to gather his order, he would stand up front and get a large cup of espresso and chat with the manager. It was the main way he learned about village gossip — being one of the main baristas, Nina was told all sorts of secrets from customers who would come in and out of the shop all the time. From the conflict in the square over the job board, to the rumors about crushes between shop owners, she has heard everything. Crowley would find himself spilling to her every now and then, with the comfort knowing that his secrets were safe behind her lock and key.

“You know, the, uh…the thing,” Crowley sputtered.

“The…thing?” Nina echoed.

Crowley quickly nodded. “The thing. I’m planning to say the thing. I, nnn, fuckin…I’ve been waiting for the time to say ‘the thing’, and it finally looks like he isn’t two seconds from running to the hills or crumble under some strange pressure I can’t identify. It’s like a reset button was pressed! I need to say it now, or I’m going to clam up, and we’re going to keep going in circles and things are going to keep becoming more and more weird and awkward, and I don’t think I’ll be able to handle that, and-“

“You need to get that gob under control,” Nina said with a laugh while placing a ceramic mug in front of the man. “In order for you to say ‘the thing’, you’re gonna have to save your words for it.”

Crowley took a quick swig of his espresso before heavily sighing. He solemnly stared down at the deep brown liquid.

“We’ve been traveling and working for, what…25ish years? Met when we were both young and stupid, kept moving between towns in search for quests, finally settled down at a home base and have been working ever since.”

“That’s what you’ve told me,” Nina hummed. “You basically made a business front for yourselves and have become infamous faces around here. Like that book hoard we can see through the upstairs window.”

“The ‘library’,” Crowley corrected. “It’s Aziraphale’s favorite loot to collect. I don’t even want to think about what could be on the covers on some of those books or hidden between the pages,” he grimaced. “Our storage room became the library because he just kept getting more books whenever we went out.”

Crowley glanced out the storefront window to eye up his ‘home’. The bottom floor was their “shop” of sorts were people could come in and hire them for the day, or search through the loot they were offering to sell in case they needed any strange objects. Crowley would spend hours sifting through everything to choose stuff to put up front. He would say to Aziraphale that he was doing this to clear up more space in their living quarters, when in reality he enjoyed making arrangements of objects to pair together in a sort of scheme to sell as much as humanly possible. It was like a fun game to him. Behind and above the main store front was where they lived. The place came with a couple of extra bedrooms, but only one was used at a time (they never seemed to sleep at the same time, and when they would sleep both had an affinity for the bed on the top floor, with a window that faced the sunrise). There were readings rooms, a common area, kitchen, everything they needed. It was oddly a very domestic arrangement, one that they never thought they’d find themselves in. Little details filled the corners of this area — plants Crowley would bring back littered every corner and empty space, a large portion of one of the spare rooms was taken up by a large tank that held a snake, and what was called the “office” was littered in papers covered in Aziraphale’s frilly handwriting.

“We have a life here,” Crowley lamented. “A comfortable one. A safe one. Right now, we are living together separately. I…I just…I want this to be us living together. Completely.”

He sighed and glanced down at his cup as he gently swirled it around in circles. He watched as the cream mixed a bit more with the coffee, making the liquid a bit more lighter in color.

“If he didn’t like this arrangement, he seems to be the type that would’ve left a long time ago,” Nina said. “What’s the worst he could do if you asked?”

“Well, he could stab me with a blade, for one. Or blast me with magic. Or stab me with a flaming blade instead, that’s more likely,” Crowley quickly responded. “We’ve never had this conversation before, not even as a campfire sort of chat, so I don’t have a single clue about how he feels about anything romantic, let alone from someone who is probably the same gender, I mean he comes from a very strict religious background and I’m sure you’re aware about what kind of stuff those folks are really weird about, and-“

“Anthony,” Nina quickly butted in to make him stop. “I bet you that Mr. Aziraphale is not like that, I’m sure that he’s completely far from that. I have seen the way that he looks at you, how he talks to you. I see it loud and clear. You guys, you just…”

She sighed and shook her head. As she gently placed a hand on Crowley’s shoulder, she made direct eye contact with him.

“You two don’t talk about the important things. The really really important things. You talk around the important things and hope that the other person picks up on what they’re trying to say. I’ve seen it while you have your lunches, I’ve heard you complain about it nearly a million times now! You guys need to talk, you need to do ‘the thing’ and say something!”

~~~~~~~~

Aziraphale was wearing a path into the floorboards of the front room. Crowley had suddenly ran off and his thoughts immediately began to spin and scream.

“You’re running out of time, he seemed excited about something, you’re both becoming way too comfortable with this! You are blatantly putting him in danger for purely selfish reasons, you can’t let this go on any longer!”

His thoughts kept berating him with harsh words, kept pushing him with memories of recent events that filled him with fear that even he hasn’t admitted to Crowley about yet.

The cleric had gone out a couple of weeks ago on his own to a market in a nearby town. He did this to give himself some space, he did this to create some temporary distance between him and his partner, he did this…he did this because the distillery that made Crowley’s favorite bourbon finally restocked and he had promised that he would get him some that weekend to celebrate their recent mission. The particular bourbon was the one that Aziraphale had given to him on what he had determined was the tieflings’s birthday ages ago, and was insistent that he keep it despite the fact that he got the date wrong by a couple of months. That drink, both for the memories and the taste, had easily become his favorite and the rogue tried to keep at least one bottle in the building if possible.

While he was out in the market, both buying the bottle and grabbing some supplies he normally can’t find at home, Aziraphale was struck by a horrifying and familiar sight. Across the crowds of villages and travelers was the face of one of his Brothers, the halos shining in that distinct light-purple hue that identified the particular brother. He was standing and talking with someone who was unfamiliar to the cleric, a short dark elf with scruffy black hair, and an official looking uniform with a shining medallion on the lapel. Aziraphale was quick to leave once he willed himself to move again, his heart pounding in his ears as he prayed that the two did not see him as he fled.

They were looking for him, that much was for certain. It wasn’t long before they would find him and whisk him away, putting Crowley and the rest of the village in danger in the process.

Aziraphale stopped, catching his breath as he started to make himself pant in his panic. Taking a quick survey of the area outside of the windows, the cleric noted that his partner was still away to gods knows where. With the allotted time, Aziraphale quickly got down on his knees and clasped his hands in prayer. He bowed his head, halos nearly slipping over his eyes, blinding him in their light, as he concentrated.

“Dear Ecliel, forgive me for my insolence and greed as I have held onto my time for far too long. I admit to this hubris,” he started in a hushed breath. “I have clung to him, I have held him down and nearly dragged him into my own pit of despair and sins because I could not let go. I beg of thee, spare him from my mistakes, bring guidance to help free him from his own chains and bring him a bright and prosperous life away from the demons of the past. Be the guiding star I selfishly tried to be instead. Amen.”

His words echoed into the ether, their message and magic spreading into the air in search for their receiver. Aziraphale sat frozen, letting his confession sink into his soul, his words repeating in his mind lest he forget.

It’s been so long since he has prayed. He hopes that She will finally listen to him and spare him with Her grace.

A creak on the front porch outside of their door made Aziraphale shoot up in a panic and quickly dust off his tunic in order to look presentable.

Bag sitting on the front desk filled with potions and his notebook of spells?

Check.

Sword held in its sheath strapped to his side by a belt?

Check.

Pockets filled with extra cash that he has saved on the side in case of emergencies?

Check.

There was no going back now. This was the next step. This was the necessary step. No more dancing around the conversation.

He had to tell the truth.

After fighting with the door, Crowley stumbled into the main room, bearing a smile on his face and holding a sack of pastries under his arms. As he struggled with his keys to ensure that the door was properly locked, Aziraphale meekly entered the room and stood by the doorway near the front desk, ringing his hands together to try to calm his nerves. As Crowley turned, the two made quick eye contact. The tiefling brightened, Aziraphale winced in fear, as the two stepped towards each other.

“Ah, perfect timing! I stopped by the bakery and talked to Nina, she said that they’ll be cooking brunch today-“

“-Ah, Crowley, I don’t mean to interrupt but there is something that I must-“

“-and I thought, ‘oh perfect! We have completed a bunch of successful missions recently and haven’t had time for a sit down meal’, so I got some-“

“-tell you and I really think we should sit down and have an honest conversation because this won’t be easy for me to say, so just, please-“

“-of your favorites and figured we could go out because there’s been something on my mind and I really think that-“

“-we need to talk.” “-we need to talk.”

As the two kept talking at each other, they kept getting physically closer and closer together. The two owlishly blinked at each other in disbelief as their rants synced up at the same line.

“O-oh, oh goodness, oh dear,” Aziraphale fussed as he started to internally panic. “W-what was it you were trying to say my dear?”

“Ah, um…” Crowley rubbed the paper of the pastry bag between his fingers before ultimately decided to place it down on the counter that ended up beside them. He wrung his hands together and gestured vaguely at the cleric. “You should go first.”

“Crowley, ah-“ Aziraphale started to pick at the skin around his finger nails in an attempt to calm himself. “No, really, it’s okay, f-forget it.”

Crowley raised his eyebrow in suspicion as he felt Aziraphale’s anxiety hit him in waves. He looked flighty again, like he has been for the past week or so. There goes that plan entirely, at least for now. He waved dismissively and let himself physically relax as he already accepted the failure. “No, really, it’s okay. What’s wrong?”

Aziraphale immediately deflated at the question. Of course he was able to pick up on his panic, it was probably crystal clear on his face. He took a brief moment to take a deep breath and compose himself as he faced the tiefling.

“I-I, uh…goodness…this isn’t really the right time to bring this up, but honestly there hasn’t and probably will never, uh, be a um…there will never be a good time for this,” Aziraphale rambled. “I have a proposition. An arrangement, I suppose it would be better phrased as.”

Aziraphale gulped as he watched the tiefling narrow his eyes in suspicion and glare at him, an eyebrow raising to prompt him to continue. He just had to keep pushing and say the line. This was for him, for his safety, for his life.

“I…” Aziraphale pointedly made an effort to look away from Crowley’s face. “I believe our time working together, our arrangement, has run its course. I-it’s time for us to travel and work on our own. F…far away from each other. Protect and help more people by spreading out to reach others out there. On…o-on our own. For the foreseeable future.”

Crowley took in a sharp breath through his nose as he processed the clerics words. The other man was biting his lip as he forced himself to put on a pained smile to try and soften the blow of the true meaning behind what he had said.

Oh. Just his fucking luck. Absolutely brilliant.

Crowley growled in annoyance as he grabbed his glasses and tore them off his face, gripping them tightly between his claws. He swiftly turned away from the human, grimacing in annoyance as he tried to ignore his heart breaking into a thousand piece.

Aziraphale blinked in surprise. He stepped forward, and in an attempt to gain control over the situation, started to speak without thinking.

“M-my dear, please, this is for both of our benefits, for our safety, for your safety, you have to understand-“

“Oh I understand,” Crowley spat. He swiftly turned and made direct eye contact with the other man, his eyes wet with brewing tears. “I understand completely.”

Aziraphale could feel the fire emanating off of the rogue as he stared into his golden eyes, the irises pin-sharp slits that bore into his soul. The air was thick and dense, the tension creating static that kept pricking at both of their skin.

After what felt like minutes of silence as they stared, it seemed the tiefling finally broke as he fell back and physically relaxed, a look of defeat forming on his face.

“Fuck, okay, if I don’t say this now then I will probably never get the opportunity again. So I might as well say it while I have you right here in front of me.”

“Crowley-“

Aziraphale was quickly shut up by the sharp and deadly look the rogue gave him the moment he dared try to speak.

Crowley took a deep breath. This wasn’t the circumstance that he wanted. This wasn’t what he planned. In fact this was far beyond that. But there’s no going back now.

“We’ve been working together for a long time, you and me. A couple of decades now, it seems, though honestly it feels more like thousands and thousands of years. It’s just been us, the two of us, a team, a group, a party. We’ve fought and battled and won and lost, and we’ve settled down in this dinky little shop in this dinky little town. And we’ve been here. Together. Comfortable and settled into our roles separately. And, a-and I would like to spend-mmm…“

Crowley shuttered as he sniffed and looked away. He needed to compose himself. Keep himself together.

“A-and I would like to spend this life together. Comfortably together. We’re a package deal, the two of us. Throw away the past, f-focus on the present. Together.”

Crowley turned and made eye contact with the cleric again as a single tear escaped, sliding down his cheek and getting caught in his scales.

Aziraphale couldn’t breathe as he blankly stared at his partner in disbelief. All this time…all this time he ran away, afraid that his feelings were null, a fantasy, a farce. But now…it was too late.

The silence bore into Crowley’s soul. Aziraphale was staring at him, with pure horror on his face.

“R-right,” Crowley huffed out in a laugh as he shook open his glasses and placed them back on his face. “You don’t need to tell me. I’ll go pack and get out of here.”

He kept his expression neutral as he slipped by the cleric to head up the stairs to their living quarters. Aziraphale had to will himself to move and turn towards him.

“C-crowley, wait!” he desperately called as he started to pant.

It was becoming difficult to breathe. The air was thick and stale, clogging his lungs like he was underwater. What did he do, what did he do, what did he do??

Crowley paused and turned slightly, his expression softened just a smidge as he gazed down at the frantic human standing before him.

“Don’t bother,” he said calmly as he started to continue walking towards the stairs again. “I don’t need your forgiveness.”

“I-I need you!” Aziraphale blurted before he could even think, his thoughts turning a million miles per hour. “Forgive me!”

Crowley paused as he grabbed the handrail, the weight of the cleric’s words falling upon his shoulders.

The desperation. The fear. The care and love and protectiveness over him. The secrets untold just waiting to burst and fall open. It was all so heavy and burdensome.

“You idiot…” Crowley huffed out in a laugh. “Oh you absolute idiot.”

Aziraphale started to shake as he tried to watch his partner, his vision swimming and twisting. What has he done, what has he done, he’s ruined this, he’s ruined everything, he’s ruined it all again and-

The cleric barely processed in his storm of thoughts that the rogue had turned and quickly marched towards him, his expression both broken yet determined and confident.

Crowley gathered his nerves and decided to take initiative as he stepped away from the stairs and swiftly turned, using the burst of confidence he had to turn back and face him.

One step. Two steps.

Claws snagged at the scraggly white fabric and pulled the body forward, causing it to emit a shocked yelp in surprise.

Grabbing the cleric by the neckline of his shirt, his knuckles white and holes tearing in the fabric, Crowley pulled Aziraphale towards him. In the center, the two collided in a kiss like they were two stars smashing into each other, exploding into brilliant light and dust and fire.

The two clung to each other like magnets, refusing to pull apart in this frantic and desperate embrace.

Aziraphale hung onto him, pulling him closer and closer in an attempt to not let him slip away. He held Crowley like he was something he was going to lose, like he was something he had finally pushed away in his dumb-witted attempt to protect him, like he was something he needed to stay together.

Crowley gripped onto Aziraphale’s shirt, keeping his hold strong and tight like he was something that was going to frantically run away the moment he would let go. He held Aziraphale like he was something he desperately wanted, like he was something he wanted to keep, like he was something he wanted to make understand that it didn’t need to disappear, like he was something that truly completed him.

Aziraphale was shaking as he helplessly tried to find a place to put his hands on Crowley’s back, desperate to return the sentiment in order to tell him that this was what he wanted, that he was mistaken, that he was a fool.

Oh, how it seemed that the world spun around them, blurring their separation to make them one ambiguous figure made up of clashing colors. Pointy lines and soft, gentle curves, deep reds and quiet blues, two separate ends of the spectrum that were nearly identical when looked at up close. The fates kept drawing them closer and closer, coincidences had become truths, light and dark had mixed and become a soft gray.

The mass seemed to split as Crowley broke them apart, panting as he tried to catch his breath for the angel had stole it. Aziraphale stumbled back in surprise, desperately trying to breathe as a shaky hand touched his lips, feeling the ghost of Crowley’s presence.

The rogue stared at his opposite as his body buzzed with adrenaline, his mind and voice completely silent and spent. While the angel’s halos were blindingly bright, Crowley did not squint as he studied Aziraphale’s shaking form. In a snap, their eyes met, and Crowley finally took a deep breath in relief.

His gaze wasn’t fearful or regretful. He couldn’t identify any doubt, any questions, any arguments. Aziraphale’s eyes were wet and shining, yes, but it was clear that he was far from upset.

“Please…” the cleric breathed. “Do it again. Please, do it again.”

Tears escaped from him as the angel pleaded. Crowley didn’t even need to think, he didn’t need to say a single word as he stepped close again and reached, gently cupping the cleric’s face in his hands. As their lips met once more, with less desperate ferocity this time, and their eyes gently closed in comfort, Crowley felt Aziraphale’s arms drape over his shoulders, his body melting against his as he finally relaxed.

“I’m not leaving, I was a fool. I’m still a fool. Will you ever forgive me for this mistake?” was what Aziraphale’s heart was pleading.

“Don’t be fearful. Whatever made you want to run, it’s our battle now,” Crowley’s heart called back. “It always has been, it always will be. Stay with me.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

[love-mariiii]

Was It (I) Ever Good Enough

Okay, so this is the first time I am brave enough to publish something. It's a lestappen fic, cuz i love them, it's kinda sad though and also not very long. I wrote this while listening to billie's new album. If any commas are in a weird place don't mind it please, me and commas dont have a good relationship. Also this isn't finished, but I might try and finish it if any of you like it.

Max didn’t think it would come to this. That after everything, this is where he would end up. On his bedroom floor, drunk, regretting every decision he’s ever made, but maybe he should have seen it coming. Charles never was one for commitment when it came to relationships, so why did Max think that it would be any different with him? 

To Max, they were everything. When he thought about them, he could see a future, somewhere in Tuscany, happily married, spending the rest of their days in peace with no distractions from the outside world. He should’ve known that it wasn’t like that for Charles. The start of their relationship was way too messy. But Max’s judgment was so clouded by the fact that Charles liked him back, that all those years of pining weren’t for nothing, that he didn’t even notice it. 

Now he’s drowning his sorrows in alcohol, praying that when he wakes up tomorrow it was just a nightmare. That when he wakes up tomorrow Charles will still be here, next to him. He knows that won’t be the case, he knows that he’ll wake up to an empty bed, an empty house, feeling hollow, asking himself where it all went wrong.

[mobbu-min]

☆ yummy in my tummy ☆

part two

a/n i swear everytime im about to play love and deepspace, the app needs another update. my phone storage can't keep up T0T anyways, i'm not that far in but xavier is my fave. he lowkey reminds me of silver haha. rafayel is a close second tho

includes: all of octavinelle, scarabia + pomefiore

tw mentions of eating disorder

want more? check out part one!

Octavinelle <3

⋆ Perhaps the last dorm that you want to know about your skills. But alas, your heart is vast, so even shady seamen deserves some delicious home cooked meals/treats!

⋆ How about making some extra cash? Is what Azul says after taking a bit. He does mean it. Not only would Monstro Lounge gain some more popularity after news of the Ramshackle Perfect’s home made meals/treats were being served, but he gets to spend time with you without giving his feelings away? A win-win if you asked him. As we all know, Azul does suffer from an eating disorder, as much as he tries to deny it, but somehow your cooking/baking doesn’t upset him at all. If anything, he gets so lost in the flavors that he doesn’t realize that his stomach is full and plate empty. Should he be concerned? Disgusted with himself? Lots of negative emotions begin to swell up, but when he glances at you, fully expecting the worst, he’s met with your proud smile. Happiness practically radiating off your being. And suddenly, Azul doesn’t mind the feeling of a full stomach as long as you look at him like that again.

⋆ Jade finds himself coming to you more often to ask for tips on how to cook mushrooms in different ways. Heck, he even encourages you to come out mushroom hunting with him. He’s fascinated by the way you work, seeing you mix different spices and ingredients together inspires him to do the same. He enjoys getting a glimpse at a third world, your world. It reminds him that the universe is truely a big, fascinating place. He is touched that your first thought was to bring him food, don’t worry he’ll repay the favor.

⋆ Your food is the only thing to get Floyd out of his moods! Once he smells the delicious scent of your meals/sweets, he instantly goes back to being silly and goofy! He will pester the living daylights out of you to make his favorite foods. You will know no peace! Floyd always makes his distaste clear. He’s an honest guy, what can he say? So it’s a big achievement that your food gets the Floyd pass. He will glare at anyone that dares to come near his food. This is his food, not theirs! Floyd’s a good cook himself, so like Jade, if he’s feeling particularly chummy, you might be gifted with his own unique concoction.

Scarabia <3

⋆ Scarabia is known to have the best food in the school! So it was a little jarring when you decided to give them some of your homemade food. But you really have nothing to worry about when it comes to these too.

⋆ You thought you were going to go blind with how bright Kalim's smile was. It truly could rival the sun. Because of the trust between you and Kalim, he devours it within seconds. Practically buzzing in excitement as the flavors touch his tongue. He’s not joking when he says that it’s as good as Jamil’s food. He wants to throw a party where you and Jamil have a cook off! But also just to show off your amazing cooking. You’re going to have to politely tell him that might be too much for you. Or that you only cook for special people! (subtle flirting hehe) And well Kalim is Kalim so it’s like a 50/50 chance that it won’t fly over his head. But in the case that it doesn’t, Kalim gets all warm and flustered. You know how some people get cuteness aggression and just want to squeeze said cuteness, well that’s Kalim. Instantly you're in his arms while he exclaims how much he loves you!

⋆ Jamil gave you the weirdest look, thinking that you wanted something from him. But alas! You did it out of the goodness of your heart. After getting over his initial suspicion, Jamil is incredibly thankful! I get a feeling that between everything that Jamil has to handle, he tends to eat very little most days. Just enough to get him to bedtime. So when you popped out of thin air with food, but not just any food his favorite, Jamil is touched. Though just because he’s touched, that doesn’t mean he won’t critique it! Internally of course, unless you ask. I would like to say that this would lead to cooking dates, but Jamil gives me the impression that he doesn’t like others in the kitchen while he works. Though he’s willing to try it out for you! Omg, if you make him food from the Scalding Sands, he just might tear up (lol, probably not but that’s a funny thought) but he will be incredibly touched!

Pomefiore <3

⋆ A tricky dorm to cook/bake for. A life or death situation! You must satisfy the Queen’s tastes or else you’ll face everlasting sleep! OoooOOoooooOOOoooo

⋆ Your greatest foe, the Queen herself! Does your food satisfy the Queen’s strict diet? ………partially. Listen, Vil holds himself to high regards and keeps a stern eye on his calories and where those calories come from. And while yes, you are going the right path, you also took some side quests on the way. In other words, you were like 74% to getting Vil’s approval. But fear not! For Vil is more than willing to take you under his wing! Though, Vil’s not a chef himself, so he’ll guide you in the ways of his diets. As long as you keep those in mind, Vil finds himself thoroughly enjoying anything you make him. He enjoys foods that are light on the stomach with plenty of nourishment. Vil will oftentimes find himself thinking about your food. His stomach growling in hunger. He appreciates it whenever you show up with homemade snacks. Vil will oftentimes submerge himself in his work, whether that be new roles, schoolwork or guiding his dorm mates, and forget to eat. So knowing that you're always thinking of him and coming to check up on him makes him feel all mushy and gooey inside. Goodness, the effects you have on him.

⋆ C’est délicieux! Anything and everything you give Rook is eaten with fervor. Truly enjoying and savoring every bite! For how could he let anything go to waste? You put your heart and soul into it, it would be wrong not to enjoy it with his own heart and soul. His appetite is never quenched when it comes to your food. He consumes your food with such earnestness that it's hard not to get all flustered. The compliments are never ending when it comes to him. Rook could (and has) write poetry off the delicious taste of your food. Sweet, yet a little off putting. Will jump at any occasion to speak about your food, and by extension you. Eveytime he sees you with a bag or box, Rook is skipping towards you with a little tune to each step.

⋆ Nothing could beat his Meemaw’s apple pie, but Epel supposes that yours come to a close second. Your food is the only thing Vil will turn a blind eye to, which Epel takes as an opportunity to slyly (not really) suggest new recipes for you to try. Honestly, Epel really likes your food! He gets all flustered whenever you pop with food for him. At first he was a little insulted that you made him food, thinking you were insulting his masculinity or something by babying him. But after your very honest words (and a reprimanding from Vil and Leona for making you sad), Epel understands that it was just you trying to show him that you cared for him. I can see Epel going to Jack and asking ‘Is someone giving you food manly?’ and Jack, who happened to overhear Leona telling Ruggie, casually responds with, ‘My mom always makes my dad food, so yeah…” And Epel’s all like, ‘Well damn, if Jack looks like that then his dad must be super macho.’ or something like that. Needless to say, Epel has never hit someone so hard before over food. (rip grim and ace)

[littleplantfreak]

Silly/Clumsy WB boys HCs

I see hcs like this and theyre always fun/make me laugh o(｀ω´ )o

Sakura’s food went down the wrong pipe at a restaurant and when the waiter asked if it was because it was too spicy, he insisted through coughing and tears that that definitely wasn’t the case (he could tell they didnt believe him though)

Tsugeura sometimes lets one rip by accident when he’s exercising. Not even a little fart either, the kind that stops everyone from what they’re doing.

One time Nirei stubbed his toe so hard, he fell and grabbed onto the nearest object. Unfortunately that was the back of Sakura’s pants, making him accidentally moon a few people in class.

Word recall is hard sometimes. So when Choji calls an ambulance a ‘hospital truck’ really what can you do? At least he’s using words. Sometimes he just mimes the shape or action of the thing and insists that you know what he’s talking about. Will draw a picture if he gets frustrated enough, but if it’s something intangible? Well it’s a guessing word game. (Togame is the best at it, but Inugami is on Choji’s wavelength enough that he’s pretty accurate too)

Hiragi calls the first years by the wrong name sometimes, like a mom with too many kids. He’ll yell and say Sugishita when he means Sakura, but he does apologize before yelling again.

Because he’s around older guys a lot, Togame sometime uses really old words or sayings. You haven’t hear the saying “It’s raining cats and dogs” or he’s “bleeding like a stuck pig” in years until you’re stuck under an awning during a passing storm or he comes back from a rough fight, nose still bleeding profusely. Also keeps bag balm/cetaphil, some other really good lotion for calluses and dry skin and just kinda slaps it on whatever shishitoren member he sees who’s hands are cracking, saying that the skin won’t heal as well when they’re older so they better take care of it now.

Umemiya’s got the worst habit of losing, dropping, or sitting on his glasses. He doesn’t realize it until he hears the snap and he’s got them taped up until he can go get them fixed again.

Kaji’s kind of a messy eater. Especially with ice cream or food with sauce on it. Started to get better with checking his face after eating after Hiragi slapped a wet wipe on his face after he devoured a rack of ribs, leaving him looking like he’d cannibalized someone

[littlemarianah]

"Mama, why are your ears like that?” asked the little girl, for the thousandth time. She gently ran my ear, pinching my missing earlobe with her little fingertips as she laid her head on my shoulder, almost falling asleep.

The little boy in my other arm was already sucking his thumb, sleeping peacefully.

I would run my hand through her hair and say to her. "The fire took it, Willy."

"Long before I was born?" she would ask and I would nod.

“long, long before..." I would say.

She would blink her eyes slowly, even though she was so tired, she would continue talking. She dabbed her tiny fingers along the rough scars on my neck. "Here too?" she asked.

“Yes, here too." I would say.

Her blue eyes would look at my scars curiously, she always made the same questions several times, as if she was trying to understand the facts, try to understand how something like this is possible... For a six years old girl, who didn't know anything worse than hurting her elbow.

“Did it hurt?"

“Yes."

Satisfied with the answer, Willow would fall asleep

[sabotage-on-mercury]

Oh, be quiet (E, 1/3, 4.7k)

It is the happiest of times for Aziraphale: After years of hard work, he finally gets casted for his first major leading role in an elite theatre production.

If only he didn't have to work with Crowley, a notorious West End star, as famous for his arrogance as he is for his magnetic stage presence. (And for looking unfairly good in those indecently tight jeans.)

This nuisance of a man is constantly trying to challenge Aziraphale with his snarky remarks - and a fierce quarrel between the two most cantankerous actors ensues.

A Rivals to Lovers theatre AU

[read more on ao3]

***

written for the @gomens-theatre-bang

[todaywasamaritale]

what if i give myself away, to only get it given back?

(neris board for @yaboieif and @jingledbell)

[sapphiretanto]

Just throwing this out here…

If anyone wants me to write about something from TMNT 2012 (whether it be a character or a scene), I would be happy to write an analysis on it. Just message or ask me and I will try to break it down as best I can or get the talking points you want in there

I already have some that I plan on doing that, but if for whatever reason, you want me to talk about it, I will be happy to.

I will not include writing about any bashing of another tmnt show, tcest (yes this includes the romantic pairing of Leo and Karai), NSFW topics.

And please keep it to TMNT 2012. It’s the one I know best about. Thank you!

Topics I Plan to Write About Someday:

Mikey not being a “baby” and an actual menace (/aff)

Leo isn’t an asshole

They Chaotic Sibling Duo that is Karai and Leo

[alrighttevans]

wandering thoughts

She’s haunting him, he is sure of it. How else could she be lingering through his thoughts, burning her way through his mind?

Penelope Eckhart is chasing around Kallisto in his dreams.

read on ao3

Then, what intentions could she possibly have behind her actions?

Had she been dared to confess to him, too stubborn and prideful to decline such a thing? Had she truly gone mad?

Could she honestly harbour feelings towards him?

He couldn't help but ask why. What was there to love about him, about a dog that spent almost a decade rolling in the battlefield? Actually, his life out of the war wasn't much different. It was all about killing and avoiding being killed; every thought, every action, every fraction of his time was about survival. His good-looks, she said, his bravery, his skill with a sword, but all felt like empty words, all too superficial. If those were truly reasons to make people love him, he would be drowning amongst love promises for years now. She wasn't telling him her true reasons, which he desperately needed to hear, he had to know what could possibly have made her love him.