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ebdaydreamer · 4 months

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fuck it friday

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard

so ummmm I wrote a whole fic. here it is on ao3

tagging: @bigfootsmom @monsterrae1 @elvensorceress @honestlydarkprincess @wildlife4life

@spaceprincessem @bucksbiawakening

It's spec but not really spec the idea just wouldn't leave me alone enjoy:

“Well that was dramatic,” Buck said to break the awkward silence.

They had just got home from the hospital. It was a total false alarm, Eddie was fine, but whilst he was off getting every test under the sun done, his life blew up in the waiting room.

First his parents came, with Chris in tow. And everything was fine, Buck was chatting to them, everyone was just trying to remain calm. Until somehow the topic turned more sombre, and they were discussing what would happen if Eddie really was sick. And well, one thing led to another, and Eddie’s will was brought up, and Helena Diaz lost it.

Then Marisol rushed through the doors, asking them what happened.

Which was odd, because Eddie had been on a date when they all got the call that something had happened.

Then the ghost of Shannon Diaz walked in. The woman Eddie had been on a date with when he was rushed to the hospital.

All hell broke loose.

The group had marched to Eddie’s room, demanding explanations. Buck held on to Chris who was looking a little green himself. This was not his place. He could ask Eddie what the fuck he was thinking and why he didn’t talk to him later.

And this was that later.

Eddie gave a half laugh and sunk into the chair at his dining table. “That’s one word for it.” He rested his chin in his palm, but Buck could see he was shaking.

“What’s going on, Eddie?” Buck asked softly. “Talk to me, please.” He held up his hands, palms facing Eddie. “No judgement, I promise. I’m not exactly in the position to, anyway.”

Eddie shook his head. “You got drunk and kissed someone else once. I lied… to everyone I know, for weeks.”

“O-OK, but why?”

He took a deep breath, gaze pointed to the left of Buck’s head. He hadn’t looked him in the eyes since the hospital.

“I guess… I wanted to live in the delusion a little longer. That somehow I’d found Shannon again, that I had that magic back, instead-” He abruptly cut himself off.

And Buck guessed he could understand. Because cheating on his girlfriend aside, everyone would have told him what a bad idea dating Kim was. Because she wasn’t Shannon. She looked a creepy amount like her, but she acted nothing like her. And it wasn’t fair to her to just be a replacement.

Buck wondered if that was what Eddie had been doing with every relationship since Shannon died.

“Eddie, what you had with Shannon… you’re never going to have that again.” Eddie began to protest, and Buck cut him off. “But that’s OK. It’s supposed to be different. There’s no one right way for a relationship to be. That doesn’t take away from what you had with her.”

The chair screeched against the floor, and Eddie jumped up. “It has to be! My kid needs a mom and I need a wife and-”

“OK, we both know that’s B.S.” Buck stood up, and held out his hands to Eddie’s shaking ones. Just in case he needed steadying. “That’s what has been drilled into your head as a kid-”

Eddie huffed and began walking to the living room. Buck followed.

“about what families are supposed to be, but you and I know that isn’t true!”

Eddie stopped and spun around, panic flashing in his eyes. “What other choice do I have? Because there’s what I want and what I can have. I can want Shannon, but I can’t have her. I can have someone safe and easy like Marisol, even if that’s not what I really want. Because believe me, there’s a lot I want but can't have!”

“Like Shannon? Eddie, if… if you think Shannon was it for you… then stop torturing yourself. Stop forcing things you think you need to have. And who knows? Maybe one day you will find someone you want again. But it’s not fair to the people you date or yourself to keep forcing a relationship.”

“This isn’t about Shannon!”

Buck blinked. Eddie’s chest heaved. Chris snored from down the hall.

“W- what?”

“I mean… a part of it is. A part of it always will be. But there are other…” Eddie waved his hands as he searched for the words, “things that I’ve realised I want, that I can’t have. So sue me for trying to recreate the one good relationship I was actually allowed to have.”

Buck swallowed and nodded, trying to follow along.

“Right, so there’s something else you want. Why not go for it? What’s stopping you?”

“I told you, I can’t.”

“Eddie, you deserve to be happy.” He said it softly, gently, like approaching a wounded animal, because he knew that Eddie didn’t quite believe it. “You deserve to be a little selfish, for once.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I just did the selfish thing, and I think it ruined everything in my life.”

“You screwed up. Big time. But you haven’t ruined everything. Your parents will get over the will thing. Chris will forgive you. And you’ve still got all of us. The 118.” Buck smiled at him. “You’ve still got me.”

“Do I?” Eddie snapped, finally meeting his eyes.

And Buck… Buck felt like he’d been pushed back by the force of his words.“Of- of course you have me! I’ve got your back, remember? You’ve been the one pushing me away these last few weeks. Which is what you do when you’re hiding something. Now I know and we can get back to normal.”

Eddie stepped towards him, until they were close enough that Buck had to tilt his chin down ever so slightly to fully meet his eyes. His eyes that were now storming with something Buck couldn’t recognise. “What if I don’t want to get back to normal?”

“What do you m-”

One hand on his neck. One hand in his shirt. Lips. Lips against his. Kissing. Eddie was kissing him. Why was Eddie kissing him? They don’t do this. Eddie wasn’t into men. But then again, Buck didn’t think he was into men until Tommy.

Tommy.

Buck pulled away and stepped back. “What the hell?”

“You asked what I wanted.” Eddie gestured between them. “There’s your answer.”

“Me?”

“You.”

Buck’s brain felt like static. He couldn’t even begin to process the amount of feelings and thoughts and questions bouncing around his brain. He tried to grab them as they flew past, and after a solid 30 seconds of spluttering, he managed to ask, “Since- since when?”

Eddie shrugged, lighter than before. “Not sure, really. I didn’t figure it out until I was bleeding out on that street, reaching for you. I fell. My eyes were so heavy. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay awake. So I looked for you, and I reached for you and I realised I was in love with you.”

“You’re-”

“Yeah.” Now Eddie’s started looking at him, he can’t seem to stop. Buck felt like he was suffocating under his stare. “I couldn’t have ever dreamt you up in my wildest dreams. You’re… everything I never allowed myself to want. And the life we’ve built? Our friendship? It means so much. I couldn’t ruin what we already had. So yeah, I dated Ana and Marisol and Kim because I can’t get over you or Shannon.” Eddie made an amused noise and briefly looked away from him. “Maybe if I could get over at least one of you I could be happy with someone else.”

The silence returned. Eddie was clearly waiting for Buck’s next reaction, but he still couldn’t think properly. He tried to process the last few minutes: Eddie kissed him; Eddie was in love with him; Eddie has known this since he got shot.

“Three years ago, Eddie. Why are you telling me now? I’m with Tommy! I’m happy with Tommy!”

There had been time. Maybe not right away, when he was still with Ana, and then Buck was with Taylor. But they were both single for months. Hell, Buck died and Eddie still didn’t think it was important enough to tell him. This is the time? Not when Buck was scrambling to find the secret to happiness? When he died? When he asked Eddie about being shot? Literally any of the countless days they had spent together?

“Because! Because I’ve already blown up everything else in my life! What do I have left to lose? Besides, would it have even made a difference?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know and I can’t know because I’m with Tommy.”

Because Buck could think all he liked about the opportunities Eddie had had before now, but he couldn’t begin to wonder what would have happened if he had taken them. Because then he wouldn’t have Tommy.

Tommy, who was so hot and cool and confident.

Tommy, who made Buck feel giddy and excited.

Tommy, who made him laugh and moan and scream.

Tommy, who changed his life.

(But didn’t Eddie do that too?)

“Look I can’t…” Buck ran a hand across his face. “I have to go. I can’t do this right now, and Tommy has been asking for an update about you, because he’s worried about you, because he’s your friend and-” Buck cut himself off, knowing he was probably driving the knife a little deep. Eddie knew how badly he’d fucked up. He knew it when he’d kissed him. Buck wondered if he even cared anymore.

“I’ll text you later, I just… I gotta go.”

He turned away before he could see Eddie’s reaction and walked out the door.

It was the last time he went through that door for a while.

#fuck it friday #tag games #911 #911 fic #buddie #evan buck buckely #eddie diaz #911 spoilers #ellie writes

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lightvixxen · 2 years

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since EVERYONE is horny tonight...i leave my offering, also I wrote this in one sitting so not proof read/edited and i'm practically falling asleep lol

CW:SMUT 18+ minors shoo, Knife play, blood kink/play, branding kink? is that what its called? or things being carved into skin (consenually ofc), pain kink, oral (f receiving)

WC: 1672, it was supposed to be a blurb but i got carried away.

tagging: @omenhell

You had a weird fascination with sharp things, specifically knives, more specifically the switch blades that Eddie collected. He knew this before getting into a relationship with you of course, but he couldn't get over that far away look you got holding a specific blade.

It was sharp, and pretty in your opinion, the prettiest in Eddie's collection. You laid in Eddie's bed, with him not too far away at his desk. He was writing something up for the newest campaign idea he had. You held the knife absentmindedly up, far enough away from your face you wouldn't accidentally blind yourself if you dropped it, but still close enough to get a good look at it.

The blade was all black with a metallic looking design at the hilt, it was beautiful and if you caught it in the light juuust right certain parts shone. You had gotten into the habit with the knives to repeatedly open and close them, and that was exactly what you were doing now, closing the blade then flicking it back open.

Eddie looked over his shoulder to where you were laying, Your legs were bent at the knees, feet planted firmly on the bed and had one hand splayed against your stomach, head turned looking at the knife currently being held up by your other. You had that look in your eyes again, the look of you wanted to do something with it but he couldn't tell what.

Finally feeling his stare you looked over to where he sat with an eyebrow raised.

"what?"

"What? What? Can't admire my girlfriend's beauty without being questioned?"

"No, you look like you wanna ask me something."

"Well, you're not entirely wrong." Eddie stands, walking towards the bed, you spread your legs allowing him to settle there. He sits on his knees pulling you to be against his thighs, the soft material of his sleep pants brushing against the back of your thighs.

"What do you think about whenever you have my blades, specifically" Eddie plucks the knife from your grasp, flicking the blade out once again and holding it up, "This one, cause you always have this far off look whenever you have it"

Your eyes widen, because how the fuck are you supposed to answer that?!?!? How do you look someone in the eyes and tell them that the thing you think about when your hand is shoved down your pants is imagining them carving their initials into your thigh? Let alone your boyfriend who you're pretty sure isn't into it...well, not that you've asked.

"I'm waiting, sweetheart" you take a deep breath in, deciding to take a leap of faith into your kinks and hope it doesn't fuck up your relationship.

"Ithinkaboutyoucarvingyourinitalsintomythigh." The words came out fast and slurred together, your face burned red, hoping he understood it.

"what?"

"I...I think about you carving your initials into my thigh...with your knife"

Eddie slow blinks at you and you feel the panic quickly rise up until...

"Is that something you really want, sweetheart? for me to claim you?" You felt your body heat up at his words, panties slowly becoming damp.

"Are you serious?"

"Oh completely, been thinking about that for a whileee," Eddie starts ghosting the blade down the outer part of your thigh, sending desperate shivers down your spine. "The question is, are you gonna let me?"

You nod quickly "Yes, god yes, please." Eddie chuckles darkly, gripping onto your thigh tightly.

"Alright, you wanna do this now? Cause I have all the things we need for after care in the bathroom, just been waiting on you" You nod again

"Fuck yes"

"Kay, put this leg down" Eddie taps your right leg lightly, already knowing where he wanted his initials on it, right on the side where its barely visible unless you look, you lower your leg almost immediately.

You feel the cool metal glide against your skin as Eddie draws patterns in your skin, not pressing hard enough for it to actually leave a mark, just enough for you to feel it.

The first line of the E makes you jump and whimper quietly , Eddie's hand that wasn't holding the knife holds your leg down.

"Stay still, I don't want to have a trip to the ER because I accidentally cut too deep, just want it deep enough that it leaves a scar."

"Sorry, surprised me s'all"

As Eddie continued to carve out his initials you could feel yourself growing wetter with each passing second, you were sure your panties were absolutely soaked, you wouldn't be surprised if it seeped onto the bed as well.

Focusing on what Eddie was doing, he was halfway done with the M of his name, you watched as your blood slowly rolled down and off your leg onto his sheets. Reminding you that you two had forgotten to put a towel down to prevent staining his bed - well staining it more.

"Shit- Eddie we forgot to-"

"Don't care, besides, this bed has seen worse, what's a little blood?" He smiles at you, before finishing up the letter. It was surprisingly neat, neater than what you'd expect from a knife.

Eddie leaned down examining his handy work, what you don't expect him to do is lick up stray blood droplets before they hit the bed and back down to the open wound. A gasp escapes you at feeling his tongue against your skin, the act turning you on more than it probably should.

He stays there for a while, just lapping up the blood until the bleeding slows enough to where it's not dripping down your thigh.

"Fucking vampire" you mumble as he comes back up to a normal sitting position.

"Oh you love it, I couldn't help myself sweetheart." Once Eddie was finally out from between your thighs you press them together trying to get any kind of friction, a little ashamed to admit just how fucking turned on you were, of course, Eddie noticed.

"Ooooh does my sweetheart have a pain kink?" You try to shake your head, but his fingers catch your chin forcing you to nod.

"Don't even try to lie to me, I bet your fucking soaked right now. Actually, why don't we look? since you can't be trusted to tell the truth." Eddie forced your thighs apart and moved so he was laying on his stomach, head in between your thighs, face to face with your clothed cunt. And you silently thanked whatever deity you decided to only go with one of Eddie's old T-shirts and a pair of panties.

"Oh look at that baby, you are soaked, haven't even touched you" he ran a ringed finger up your clothed slit, his finger connecting with your clit causing you to squirm.

"Eddieee" You whined at his teasing, silently begging for him to have mercy on you. Eddie's fingers hooked around the waist band of your panties, tugging them down. You lifted your hips enough so he could get them off of you. Once they were off Eddie threw your panties in a random direction in the room before turning his attention back to your bare pussy.

You were totally and completely soaked, you could feel it leaking, slowly dripping down your butt. Eddie smirked running a finger through your folds, collecting the slick and bringing it up to your clit. You moaned softly once he made contact, rubbing small and light circles into your clit.

"Look at her baby, she's just begging for attention." Eddie wasn't really talking to you, his words really only meant for himself, nonetheless it still embarrassed you. But before you could say anything Eddie was diving in, licking a stripe from your hole to your clit.

"Oh fuck! Eddie!" You moaned, head falling back onto his pillows and a hand finding purchase in his hair. Eddie moaned at your taste, Licking up to your clit before loudly taking it in between his lips and sucking on it.

Eddie's mouth was like fucking magic, between his tongue and moaning you were steadily hurtling towards your orgasm. Your back arched when his tongue entered your hole, fucking it in and out of you at a steady pace. You tugged at his hair causing him to moan again.

"Fuck, you taste like heaven, sweetheart" His mouth moved back to your clit, lapping at it like a man starved, to make matters worse he added two fingers, easily slipping inside of you to target that sweet spot inside of you.

"Eddie! fuck m'close!" Your orgasm was coming embarrassingly fast, you couldn't tell if it was because of the lingering pain from the cuts, Eddie lapping at your cunt like it was his last meal on earth, or the fact his fingers were steadily pumping in and out of you, or all of the above

"Yeah? Gonna cum on my tongue? c'mon sweetheart, go ahead, come on my tongue" Eddie's fingers hooked inside you perfectly to make you see stars, you come with a loud cry, back arching off the bed. But he doesn't stop he buried his face deeper into your cunt if that was even physically possible, licking up your release.

Eventually you have to push his head away from your aching cunt, the pleasure becoming too much.

"Eds stop, s'too much" Eddie looks up at you from between your thighs and he looks like heaven, face glistening with your wetness, hair a wild mess from where you were tugging.

You drag Eddie up to you, capturing his lips in a hot and desperate kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue.

"That...Was fucking hot, why didn't we do this sooner." you ask no one in particular, Eddie laughs and shrugs

"Dunno, maybe because someone was too scared to admit they were into it." You playfully shove his shoulder laughing and telling him to shut up.

"Now that your taken care of, its your turn...get on the floor and on your knees, sweetheart."

You could already tell it was going to be a long night.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab!reader

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jenniferjareauwife · 5 months

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can you write a jj x reader or Carina x reader based on the song Sara by we three and can you make the reader survive please

Sara

pairing: jennifer jareau x fem reader

category: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: depression, suicide attempt

word count: 816

summary: based on the song sara by we three

I took another drink while staring straight at the wall, my FBI issued gun sitting on the counter. JJ wasn't supposed to be home until later and I was alone in every sense. I was on my fourth drink of the night, just to keep my finger off the trigger.

I wasn't even phased when I heard JJ come through the door. I was so out of it that I probably should've jumped but I was so drunk and focused that nothing could pull me out of it. "Hey."

"Hm." I grunted.

"Whatcha drinking?"

"Whiskey."

"Oh." She set her bag down and walked towards me. She knew I only drank whiskey on bad nights. "What's wrong?" She took one whiff of my breath and her nose wrinkled. "How many drinks have you had?"

"Four."

"Still level headed." She said quietly.

"Mm." I leaned back against the couch, taking another sip before she took the glass out of my hands.

"Seriously. What's wrong."

"Nothing."

"If it were nothing you wouldn't be drinking like this-"

"I'm fine-"

"You're not-"

"Just stop." I felt a single tear roll down my cheek but I couldn't bring myself to wipe it away so she did. "Nothing numbs it anymore." I whispered weakly. I saw her freeze out of the corner of my eye once she saw my gun. I usually kept it locked in my nightstand so keeping it down here was unusual.

"I'm gonna go upstairs, ok? I'll be right back." She grabbed my gun and I took in a sharp breath, I didn't really care anymore. I wasn't gonna pull the trigger while she was here, I wouldn't do that to her.

Once she came back downstairs she curled up on the couch next to me, wrapping her arms around my torso and resting her head on my shoulder. "I love you." She kissed my jaw once and then fell asleep.

Two weeks later I was sitting on the floor of our bathroom, my knees pulled up to my chest. JJ wasn't home again, she almost never was anymore. I knew she would come if I called but she didn't need to be burdened with this. She didn't need to be burdened by me anymore, it's not fair for her to have to put up with me everyday and constantly worry about me just because I can't handle my fucking emotions and my stupid brain.

I grabbed a notepad and wrote down a letter to JJ. I should at least leave her that. Then I took a razor and slit my wrists. It was the easiest decision I had ever made and that didn't even scare me until my vision was blurring and went black.

I woke up in a hospital bed, two warm hands gripping one of mine. The lights were almost blinding as I slowly opened them. "Hey." I turned my head to the side slightly and saw the most beautiful woman ever. JJ. I smiled softly.

"Hi...why am I here?"

"I found you...in our bathroom." She didn't say anything else. I saw her tear up and I wanted nothing more than to wipe her tears away but she didn't let me let go of her hand. "Don't...don't I need this." A few tears fell down her cheeks. "I thought I lost you!"

"I'm-"

"I don't want to hear apologies, ok? Don't apologize for how you feel. Don't ever do that."

"But I-"

"Do you regret it?"

"Um...yeah. Now I do. But I didn't...I didn't when I did it and...I didn't even feel bad. It only took me a second to make the decision and that's..."

"Scary?"

"Yeah that's so scary now that I'm thinking about it." My voice broke as I tried to hold back tears. "I-I'm sorry."

"Shh. I already told you, no apologies-"

"But I-"

"No baby. No apologies." She squeezed my hand before bringing it to her lips for a soft kiss. "It's ok."

"I didn't want to hurt you." She frowned but nodded.

"I'm glad you woke up. You have no idea how happy I am right now."

"You're happy?"

"Of course I'm happy. You survived. I've never been happier than this, I thought I was going to lose you and I didn't." She held my hand tighter. "I didn't lose you." Her voice cracked. "I don't know what I would've done if I had lost you." A few more tears rolled down her cheeks and I wiped them away this time. "I love you so much, I just want you to be alright. I'm willing to do anything to make that the case, ok?" I nodded and bit my lip to keep myself from sobbing. "I love you so much. Please don't leave me."

"I won't." I sniffled. "I'm so sorry, I won't."

"I'm so glad to have you back."

"I love you JJ. I love you."

"I love you too."

#criminal minds #jennifer jareau #x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #lgbtq #wlw post #jennifer jareau x you

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dearweirdme · 2 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/dearweirdme/755886720389726208/outro-tear-was-written-for-the-members-but-the?source=share

I kinda disagree with you, Rain.

JK clearly said that he's one of the members that wanted to leave (at the time, the only one that we had confirmation of) and that he felt bad about bringing this to discussion. He felt comfortable enough to discuss this but I don't think all the members did or wanted to name themselves.

About the song, the other members could've written songs about wanting to leave/stay, but apparently they didn't want to or did in a way that no one noticed. Yoongi wrote Tear and Seesaw and everyone thought they were break up songs until he talked about the meaning. If he didn't want people to know, they wouldn't know.

They have a lot of songs about sensitive topics but fans just ignore its meaning, like Fake Love.

The same way that, if it was important for the other members, they could've talk more openly about it, but I don't think some of them wanted to.

Hi anon!

I don't think we are disagreeing that much. I agree that it's very possible some just didn't want to share their side... super valid!

I am a bit lost as to why you say Jk said very clearly that he wanted to leave (now I'm relatively new, so it's very possible I missed this and please send me where he said this). If it's his words about feeling guilty, I took those to mean that he felt guilty for bringing them into a position of possible disbandment. In my head that translates to him having shared how hard he felt everything was for them, which brought them as a group to consider disbandment. I don't really see this as them going against each other, but rather all members acknowledging that things were (too) hard on all of them. I think all off them understood the others, but some probably came to the conclusion of wanting to stay together sooner than others.

In general I feel that BTS really want to be truthfull, but that they understand that their truth might not be accepted by parts of Army. Disbandment is such a touchy topic and I think it's treated with care. I know some find it hard to think of BTS not sharing everything, but I think as an artist you just can't. I think them not talking openly about it isn't cowardess or anything, I think it's protecting their own.. it's none of our business and in every way theirs.

I don't think we exactly know which members were leaning more towards disbanding, and which members were leaning more towards going on. There's many possibilities ranging from 1 of them doubting, to 5/6/7 of them doubting. I tend to think both Tae and Jk were considering disbandment. Tae recently talked about how extremely bad he felt at the time in Suchwita. Bad to the extent that all he could think about was sleep. We know Jk is an empath, I think on top of him feeling exhausted and frustrated himself was deeply upset with seeing the others suffer. I also strongly feel that it's possible Namjoon and Yoongi were serious about disbandment. When we again listen to Yoongi in Suchwita, he talks with Tae as if sharing the same feelings of exhaustion. And he talks about feeling like "they couldn't live like this" as being the start of the conversations. But I'm sure many different people will have many different ideas about this.

Yoongi said Outro Tear was for the members. Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hobi wrote the lyrics. All their verses have a bit of a different take. It's sadness (tear), tearing apart, and fear. All of those things all members will have felt. What I feel is interesting is that writing Tear was the cause of Yoongi sending that text to Jk and Tae... and how that resulted in Tae and Jk feeling better about the situation. I think it made them felt seen and understood and less alone in the situation.

I wasn't in fandom back then, so again.. it's very possible I missed something in all this. I do feel that there's many different thoughts about this going on though.

#members #disbandment talks

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sequinsmile-x · 11 months

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Screaming Underwater

Emily gets devastating news about an old friend.

A Young Hotchniss fic.

-x-

Hi friends,

Look, it's been long established that I love sad girl music, and on my lunch break today I was in my car and listening to Phoebe Bridgers. Her song 'Funeral' came on and this idea popped into my head.

I knew this idea wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it, so as soon as I was done with work I sat down with my laptop and wrote and here we are a few hours later!

Lots of hurt comfort in this one, with some protective Aaron thrown in for good measure. Let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 4k

Warnings: Drug addiction, overdose, minor character death, grief

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily smiles as she hears the scrape of the key in the lock followed by the sound of the door opening, and her boyfriend's familiar steps as he walks into their apartment. She closes her book, making sure her bookmark is in place, and sits up a little straighter so her head pops up over the back of the couch, her smile wide as their eyes meet across the room.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Aaron says, placing his briefcase on the kitchen counter and walking over to her, leaning down over the couch and pressing a kiss against her lips.

“Hi,” she replies, curling a hand around the back of his neck and scratching his scalp as she kisses him again, “How was your meeting?”

“Long,” he says, kissing her once more before he rounds the couch and sits next to her, smirking at the copy of Slaughterhouse Five in her lap before he picks it up and places it on the coffee table. He wraps his arms around her and tugs her into his side, his lips against her forehead as she willingly sinks into his embrace, “Did you eat dinner?”

She shakes her head and stamps a kiss against his shoulder through his jacket, “No, I was waiting for you.”

When she was growing up, she never thought she’d have this. She always assumed she’d end up a bored socialite, married to someone her mother deemed appropriate, her work organising charity dinners and events. It was the last thing she’d wanted, every decision in her formative years, including choosing to study criminology during her undergrad, had been made to push against the expectations of her. To rebel against her mother and the life she’d seemingly already laid out for her.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that is what had originally sparked her interest in Aaron five summers ago. She’d been home, doomed to spend the summer at her mother’s house between her undergrad and her master's, bored out of her mind as she tried to figure out what she wanted to do for the long weeks she had stretched out ahead of her. Then she’d spotted him across the foyer, something about his seriousness and his tight shoulders drawing her to him, a desperate need she didn’t understand at first to mess with him simmering under her skin.

The first time they kissed was only a couple of weeks later. The two of them hidden away in a room during a part her mother was throwing, Elizabeth’s chastisement still ringing in Emily’s ears as she hid whilst she gathered herself. She and Aaron had formed a tentative friendship by that point, so she knew his concern was genuine. To this day, they bickered about who leant in, who stamped their lips against the other’s first. They spent the remainder of the summer desperate for each other, tearing at each other’s clothes, palming at skin, at any opportunity. She’d spent weeks convinced it was just a summer thing, that once his placement at her mother’s came to an end and she went to Yale it would come to an end. She prepared herself for a goodbye that never came, his smile soft and his hand wrapped around hers as he said he wanted to give an actual relationship a shot. She didn’t even leave it a second before she replied, her arms tight around his neck as she kissed him fiercely, love she’d spent weeks ignoring, pushing down deep into her belly, finally set free.

They’d been together ever since. The long distance nature of the first year of their relationship made them stronger, so when he suggested they move in together when she finished her masters, she didn’t even hesitate, sure about something for the first time in her life.

She loved him, and he loved her. And she was excited for their life together, all of the possibilities stretched out ahead of them, but she also loved the here and now. The reality of being in her mid-twenties and living with the man she loves, the man she could easily see forever with.

“I’ll make something,” he says, kissing her temple and then her cheek, his attempts at pulling away thwarted when she holds him tighter, slipping into his lap, a smile on his face as he automatically holds her in place, “Baby…”

“Come on,” she grumbles, purposely shifting in his lap, smirking when he groans, his hands tightening on her hips, “I had to be professional all day, I just want to make out a little.”

He was more established in his career at the FBI than she was in hers, so he was her superior, even if she didn’t directly work for him. They worked in the same office, and even though everyone knew they were together, they both maintained the strictest professionalism at work. Unless it was the annual 4th of July party and the punch was spiked, then she knew she could convince him to sneak off to a janitor's closet and have his way with her.

Aaron smiles as she leans in to kiss him, her lips stamped against his quickly as she settles further into his lap, the groan he lets out sweet against her lips.

“We can make out later,” he says, his hand drifting to her back, his fingers sneaking under her shirt. She pulls back and raises an eyebrow at him, and he swallows thickly at the look on her face, the barely restrained desire in her eyes, and he nods, clearing his throat, “Or we could do it both now and later.”

She smiles widely, leaning in to kiss him again, well aware that he’d never been able to say no to her, “Both is good,” she whispers, her lips are ghosting over his as the doorbell rings, and she groans, leaning forward and pressing her forehead into his, “Oh come on.”

He chuckles and stamps a kiss against her lips before he helps her off his lap, sliding out from underneath her as he stands, “Sorry, sweetheart.”

She hums, crossing her arms over her chest as she slumps back against the couch, already irritated at whoever was on the other side of the door.

Aaron smiles to himself as he walks across the apartment, his girlfriend's irritation endearing as he shakes his head at her. He checks through the peephole, his eyebrows knitting together as he turns back to Emily.

“It’s your mother.”

Emily sits up so fast she almost strains something in her back, her eyes wide, “What? Why?”

He raises an eyebrow at her, “I don’t know, I left my crystal ball at the office.”

She narrows her eyes at him, “Aaron-”

“You two know the door isn’t soundproof, don’t you?”

Emily and Aaron look at each other as Elizabeth’s voice travels through the door, and there is a moment of silence before all Emily does is nod at Aaron as she stands up, her arms crossed over her chest as she sets herself up to protect herself from why her mother was here.

Elizabeth was never one to simply show up, to drop by unannounced. She’d never been shy about her distaste for Emily and Aaron’s relationship, especially at first, but she had seemingly accepted that they were in it for the long haul. Her irritation at her daughter settling down with someone she would never have chosen for her was now limited to the occasional bank-handed comment, the most recent at the 30th birthday party she’d insisted on throwing for Aaron.

Aaron smiles reassuringly at Emily, his promise that he was there, that he was with her, silent but needed. He pulls the door open and smiles at Elizabeth as he steps backwards so she can walk into the apartment.

“Elizabeth, we weren’t expecting you.”

She hums as she walks in, a tension in her frame that both of them immediately pick up on. The usually cool and collected ambassador slightly off-kilter, “I wasn’t planning on coming over,” she says, clearing her throat as she looks at Emily, “But I have some…difficult news to tell you, and I thought I should tell you in person.”

Emily swallows thickly, her chest filling with concern, anxiety sparking in her blood. Aaron steps closer to her so he’s by her side, his hand linking with hers, squeezing tightly as she leans into his side.

“What’s going on?”

Elizabeth purses her lips together, “Maybe we should sit down-”

“Mom,” Emily says, cutting her off, “Tell me what’s going on.”

Her mother nods, “You remember Matthew Benton, your friend from when we were stationed in Italy?”

Emily’s mouth goes dry, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, her grip tightening on Aaron’s hand as she nods. Her mother didn’t know why Matthew had been so important to her, why the once seemingly close friends had drifted apart after once being inseparable. After the fallout of Rome, Matthew’s life went downhill, his questioning of his religion after what had happened to Emily, of how she was treated, turning into so much more.

The first time she’d realised Matthew was taking drugs was a few years later. She was in college, a freshman doing her undergrad, when he’d appeared out of seemingly nowhere, back in her life after years of silence. It had been obvious what was wrong, his demeanour and appearance giving it away instantly. He’d asked for money, something she’d given him out of shock more than anything, and it wasn’t long before he was back for more. She’d refused, claiming she’d pay for treatment, for any help he needed, and he’d become enraged. Laying all of his problems at her door, calling her names she knew he never would if he wasn’t withdrawing, his desperation making him cruel as he blamed her for everything.

She hadn’t seen him since then, but she’d always idly hoped they’d reconcile. That he’d get clean and she could introduce him to Aaron, to the other man who had saved her in an entirely different way.

Aaron knew all about Rome, about everything that had happened there and since, so the mention of the familiar name makes him step closer to his girlfriend, his hand still tight around hers.

“Yes…I remember Matthew,” Emily says, clearing her throat as her voice cracks, her tongue peeking out to wet her dry lips, “What’s happened?”

Elizabeth sighs, a motherly type of affection on her face that was rare giving the answer away before she can say it, allowing grief to plant its seeds in Emily’s gut.

“Emily, I’m so sorry, but he’s dead.”

___

Aaron was worried about his girlfriend.

He’d always known she turned inwards during times of stress, something he’d learnt during her finals when she was doing her masters, but this was different - unlike anything he’d ever seen. As soon as her mother left their apartment almost a week ago, unknowingly giving her daughter news that was even more devastating than she realised, she’d been an impenetrable force. Even his training as a behavioural analyst was not letting him see past the walls she’d put up even for him.

He doesn’t let it hurt him, doesn’t allow it to wound his ego. He knew it wasn’t about him. It was how she’d learnt to protect herself when she was very young and he from personal experience that it took a long time to unpick learnt behaviour like that. One of her only childhood friends had died from an overdose, something Aaron knows she was blaming herself for. She was doing her best to hold herself together and all he wanted to do was stand by and make sure he was there for her when she finally let herself fall apart.

He turns to face her as he hears the bathroom door open from their ensuite. She’s fixing her earrings in place, the final touch to her outfit. Her dress was black, appropriate for where they were going but still flattering, and her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail. She was wearing some make-up, but even with it, he could see how tired she was, her lack of sleep over the last week not a surprise to either of them. She looks up and offers him a tight smile as their eyes meet, and he can’t help but smile back.

Even in her grief, she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

“You almost ready to go?” She asks, running her hands down the material of her dress to smooth it. He nods and looks at himself in the mirror, checking his suit and his black tie are all in order before he turns back to look at her.

“Ready,” he says, watching her carefully as she breathes out a slow breath, her hands screwing together in front of her, her nerves on edge, “Sweetheart-”

“If you’re going to say we don’t have to go again,” she says, cutting him off, “I’m going to say what I’ve been saying all week. I have to go,” she clears her throat and lets her hands fall to her side, “I know Matthew’s parents might have something to say, they hated me already, but if I don’t go I then have to explain to my mother why I can’t go and that’s…”

She drifts off, her jaw tight as she clenches her teeth, and he nods closing the gap between them and reaching out for her hand. He links their fingers together and she immediately tightens her hold on him, her body aware it needed her comfort even if she didn’t herself.

“Ok, baby, we’ll go. I just wanted to make sure you’re sure,” he says, no judgment in his voice, and she nods, squeezing his hand again. She was grateful for him, for his quiet but enduring love of her, and she smiles softly, grateful when he ignores the shake to it just as she does.

“Don’t leave my side for a minute, okay?” She asks, the closest she had come to asking for comfort in a week, and he nods, wrapping his arms around her and stamping a kiss to her forehead.

“Not for a second,” he assures her, squeezing her rightly for a moment before he lets go and leads them out of their bedroom.

He keeps his promise, never straying from her side, his hand always either on her back or wrapped tightly around hers. His presence reassuring and loving throughout the funeral. She sinks into his side when she spots Matthew’s mother, her gaze fierce and full of judgement across the church full of people Emily knows were all but strangers to her old friend.

They go to the wake, partially out of her mother’s insistence and partially because it feels like the right thing to do. Emily had never been more grateful for her ability to blend into a crowd, something she’d learnt at a young age to avoid Elizabeth when she tried to introduce her to people she had no interest in meeting.

“Do you need anything?” Aaron asks, his arm around her waist as they stand in amongst everyone else, her mother elsewhere, probably talking to someone she hadn’t seen in years. Emily looks up and him and smiles sadly as she shakes her head at him.

“No thank you,” she says, briefly leaning in closer to him, breathing in his cologne, a small reminder of home that she desperately needs.

Her brief bit of peace is disrupted as a familiar voice rings out around them, the amount of venom in it making Emily infinitely more grateful that her mother is nowhere to be seen.

“You have some nerve showing your face here.”

Emily clears her throat as she feels Aaron stiffen next to her, his protective instincts kicking in already. She blows out a breath as she locks eyes with Matthew’s mother, the mix of fury and grief on her face clear, and she ignores how the people around them are pretending not to listen.

“Mrs Benton, I’m so-”

“This is all your fault,” she all but spits at Emily, shaking off her husband’s attempts to stop her, his sadness outweighing anything else, “He was a good boy before he met you. You led him astray and now he’s dead. And you show up here, with your boyfriend like the two-bit whor-”

Aaron steps forward before Emily can stop him, putting himself between her and Matthew’s mother, “You can’t speak to her like that.”

“Aaron,” Emily says, squeezing his arm, shaking her head gently as their eyes meet, “It’s okay,” she says, even though it wasn’t, the other woman’s words echoing around her head, confirming every terrible thing she’d thought about herself all week. She looks at Mrs Benton, “We just wanted to pay our respects, which we’ve done,” she looks back at Aaron, “We should go.”

“I think that’s best,” Mrs Benton says, her grief all channelled into anger, Emily the easiest target for it.

Emily leads Aaron out of the room without further comment, her eyes fixed on the floor as she avoids how everyone is staring at her. They find her mother, who had thankfully not heard anything, and say their goodbyes before they leave.

Emily is silent on the journey home, one of her hands linked with one of Aaron’s as he drives, her eyes fixed on the passing streets whilst she tries to stop herself from crying, well aware that once she starts she might never stop

___

He gives her as much space as he can when they get home, leaving her alone for as long as he can before concern for her wins out. He seeks her out, finding her on the couch, her arms looped around her knees as she leans against the back of the couch.

She’s changed out of the dress she wore to the funeral into one of Aaron’s t-shirts and a pair of leggings. She has her nose, mouth and chin tucked into the neckline of the shirt, breathing in the smell of him, letting herself sit in the comfort it brought her.

“I’d ask you how you’re feeling,” he says as he sits next to her, making sure he’s close but not touching her, wanting to let her take the lead, “But that feels stupid.”

She lets out a single humourless laugh and looks up at him, letting the t-shirt she was wearing drop down to her neck, “Hell of a day,” she says, her lips pressed together, “Hell of a week,” she smiles softly at him, “I appreciate you trying to defend me earlier,” she says, “It was unnecessary, but it was sweet.”

“She was crossing a line,” he says, his jaw tight as he tries the need to protect her rises back up in his chest.

“She’s grieving, honey,” she says, reaching out and placing her hand on his knee, smiling to herself as he immediately places his hand over hers, “It’s easier to be angry sometimes,” she looks down at their joint hands, “Plus, it’s not like…”

She drifts off, her voice cracking as she finally feels everything she’s tried to push down for days start to break free of the box she’d hidden it in, the walls of it cracking, everything in it spilling out. He hears what she hasn’t said, he always had, and he hooks a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

“Emily, what she said is not true,” he says, his suspicions confirmed when her eyes flash with something close to defiance, “She’s wrong. She’s sad, and she’s hurt, but she’s wrong. This is not your fault.”

In the end, it’s his relentless love for her that breaks her. Something deep inside of her snapping as she bursts into tears, the force of it making her ribs ache, like something has been driven between them, as it escapes.

“Then why does it feel like it is?” she sobs, her hand covering her mouth as she curls into a ball.

His reaction is immediate as he gathers her into his arms, pulling her into his lap as he holds her tight. She presses her face into his neck, seeking out the scent she’d picked up from his t-shirt earlier from the source, desperately hoping it helps. He feels his own eyes burn, tears gathering in them at the sight of her like this as he kisses the top of her head, running his hand up and down her back.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he says, his lips still pressed to her forehead, “I’ve got you,” he waits until the tears slow down, whispering soft reassurances into her skin until her sobs quieten, until they no longer seem to be cracking her open from the inside out. He cups her cheek and encourages her to pull back so he can look at her. He wipes away tears from her cheeks, repeating the action when they are immediately replaced, “It’s not your fault. None of it.”

“He fell apart because of what happened to me,” she says, her voice rough, sounding as hollowed out as her chest felt, “He told me that. The last time I saw him…”

He continues his gentle rubbing of her skin as she shakes her head, stopping herself from telling him the story he’d heard before. He remembered how nervous she’d been when she told him about Rome, how she’d avoided eye contact, sure he’d judge her for it. As if he’d ever consider her as anything other than the bravest person he’d ever met.

“The last time you saw him he was on a comedown, baby,” he says, keeping himself calm, his voice loving but even, hoping his words eventually sink in, “He was desperate and lashing out, saying things he knew would hurt. Addiction is complicated, I know that, but his decisions were his own. Not yours.”

She closes her eyes, forcing more tears to slip down her cheeks, and she clears her throat, “He helped save me. If it hadn’t been for him, how he’d helped…I don’t know what I would have done,” she sighs, “I just wish I could have helped him too.”

“I know you do, baby,” he says softly, tucking some of her hair that had escaped from her ponytail behind her ear, “But it wasn’t your responsibility to help with something that he wasn’t willing to accept help for. You tried.”

She blows out a steady breath as she leans back into his side, resting his head against his shoulder, “I was never really sure what I believed in,” she says, wiping tears from her cheeks, “Matthew believed in it all so much. I still don’t know if I believe there’s a heaven, that we all go somewhere after this, but I hope it’s real,” she says, her voice cracking as she cries, “I hope that he’s finally at peace.”

“Me too,” he says, kissing her forehead, smiling softly when she tilts her head up to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed together, “I know I never met him, but I always hoped I would one day.”

“You did?” She asks, linking their hands together, looking at how they seemed to be made together.

“I wanted to thank him for looking after you back then when I couldn’t,” he says, as if it was completely reasonable to do so when he hadn’t even known her at the time, “You know, shake his hand, man to man.”

She smiles, the first genuine smile she’s had in days, and she pulls him in for a brief kiss, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her once more before they settle back into their embrace, “Is there anything I can do, anyway I can make it better?”

She wraps her arms around one of his, hugging it to her chest, and she rests her cheek on his shoulder, “Just this,” she says, holding him tighter, “I just need you.”

He kisses the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, and he pulls her impossibly closer. “Well, it’s a good thing you’ll always have me.”

-x-

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braveclementine · 4 months

Text

Chapter 18

Warnings: 18+ readers only, mentions of nudity, smut

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

𝖂𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 in courtyard when the letter came. Hermione had been berating Harry about not concentrating on Slughorn and instead, concentrating on Malfoy. Meanwhile, Ron kept ducking behind Hermione as different girls came around the corner, always afraid that one of them would be Lavender.

"Harry Potter? I was asked to give you this." The girl said. She had straight black hair and pretty eyes. She handed a letter to Harry.

"Thanks. . ." Harry said, taking the small roll of parchment. When the girl had left he said, "Dumbledore said we wouldn't be having any more lessons until I got the memory!"

"It's not from Dumbledore." I said over Hermione's head.

"Look at this." Harry said to Hermione, handing her the letter.

I read over her shoulder:

Dear Harry, Ron, Elizabeth, and Hermione, Aragog died last night. Harry, Ron, and Elizabeth, you met him, and you know how special he was. Hermione, I know you'd have liked him. It would mean a lot to me if you'd dip down for the burial later this evening. I'm planning on doing it round dusk, that was his favorite time of day. I know you're not supposed to be out that late, but you can use the cloak. Wouldn't ask, but I can't face it alone. Hagrid.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Hermione said, passing it on to Ron who said, "He's mental! That thing told its mate to eat Harry, Eliza and me! Told them to help themselves! And now Hagrid expects us to go down there and cry over its horrible hairy body!"

"It's not just that." Hermione said. "He's asking us to leave the castle at night and he knows security's a million times tighter and how much trouble we'd be in if we were caught."

"We've been down to see him by night before." Harry pointed out.

"Yes, but for something like this?" Hermione asked skeptically. "We've risked a lot to help Hagrid out, but after all- Aragog's dead. If it were a question of saving him-"

"-I'd want to go even less. You didn't meet him, Hermione. Believe me, being dead will have improved him a lot." Ron said.

I privately agreed with Ron, though I hated the idea of Hagrid facing something terrible alone. Correction, something terrible for him alone. I could most definitely sneak down to see him.

"Harry!" Hermione said desperately, "You can't be thinking of going. It's such a pointless thing to get detention for!"

"Yeah, I know. I s'pose Hagrid'll have to bury Aragog without us."

"I'll go down." I said and the other three looked at me. I shrugged, "Look, I can turn into a cat. Cats are allowed past security, aren't they?"

"Ah. . ." Hermione said, looking worried.

"Nothing's going to happen Hermione." I said gently.

"Alright then." Ron said, "That sums that up."

Hermione turned to Harry. "Look, Potions will be almost empty this afternoon, with us all off doing our tests. . . Try and soften Slughorn up a bit then!"

"Fifty-seventh time lucky, you think?" Harry asked in a bitter voice.

"Lucky." Ron said. "Harry, that's it- get lucky!"

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked cautiously, knowing exactly what Ron meant.

Ron looked at him excitedly, "Use your lucky potion!"

Hermione looked at Ron in a new light, "Ron that's- that's it! Of course! Why didn't I think of it?"

"It'll work." I said confidently.

Harry looked at the three of us. "Felix Felicis? I dunno.. I was sort of saving it. . ."

"For what?" I asked, amused because I knew exactly who he was thinking about.

He didn't answer, having gone off into la la land and didn't come back until Hermione asked, "Harry? Are you still with us?"

"Wha-? Yeah, of course. Well. . . okay. If I can't get Slughorn to talk this afternoon, I'll take some Felix and have another go this evening."

"That's decided, then." Hermione said, getting to her feet and started to do pirouettes. I was quite jealous. Twycross hadn't gotten the Minister's approval for me to take the test early. "Destination. . . determination. . . deliberation. . ."

"Oh, stop that, I feel sick enough as it is- quick, hide me!" Ron cowered.

"It isn't Lavender." Hermione snapped.

"Cool. Blimey, they don't look happy, do they?"

I scoffed, "They're the Montgomery sisters, of course they aren't going to be looking happy! Didn't you hear about their brother?"

"I'm losing track of what's happening to everyone's relatives, to be honest." Ron said carelessly.

"Well, their brother was attacked by a werewolf. The rumor is that their mother refused to help the Death Eaters. Anyways, the boy was only five and he died in St. Mungo's, they couldn't save him." Hermione answered.

"He died?" Harry sounded shocked, "But surely werewolves don't kill, they just turn you into one of them?"

"It depends." I said sadly. "Sometimes they lose control. It's why dad always traveled so far during full moons. If he didn't turn me, he'd kill me, and I don't think he would've been able to keep living if he'd done either one."

"What was the werewolf's name?" Harry asked.

"Well, the rumor is that it was that Fenrir Greyback." Hermione said sadly.

"I knew it- the maniac who likes attacking kids, the one Lupin told me about!" Harry said angrily.

Hermione and I looked at him sadly. "Harry, you've got to get that memory. It's all about stopping Voldemort, isn't it? These dreadful things that are happening are all down to him. . ."

The bell rang, Ron jumping to his feet to join Hermione.

"You'll do fine." Harry said, getting to his feet as well. "Good luck."

"Hermione, you'll pass. Ron, you're going to leave half an eyebrow behind and they'll fail you if you're not careful. Remember the tips that'll keep you from splinching yourself." I said happily.

Harry and I headed to the potions dungeon and found that it was the two of us, Ernie, and Malfoy.

"All too young to Apparate just yet?" Slughorn asked, looking around, "Not turned seventeen yet?"

We all shook our heads.

"Ah well, as we're so few, we'll do something fun. I want you all to brew me up something amusing!"

"That sounds good, sir." Ernie said, rubbing his hands together, smiling.

"What do you mean, 'something amusing'?" Malfoy asked irritably.

"Oh, surprise me." Slughorn said.

I headed to the side room, pulling out a cauldron that already had ingredients in it. My Felix Felicis potion. I had started it with Severus after everyone had come back from break. I knew that we were going to need quite a bit.

But the potion needed work, only halfway done. Even with the headstart, the potion end time would be cutting close to the battle date.

Across from me, weird smells were emitting from Ernie's cauldron. It seemed he was trying to invent a potion. Draco didn't seem to be putting much work into his potion either, but Harry was working methodically on his. Occasionally, I caught brief smells of peppermint.

"Well, now, this looks absolutely wonderful," Slughorn said after an hour and a half of work, standing over Harry's potion. He clapped his hands together, staring down into Harry's cauldron. "Euphoria, I take it? And what's that I smell? Mmmm. . . you've added a sprig of peppermint, haven't you? Unorthodox, but what a stroke of inspiration, Harry, of course, that would tend to counterbalance the occasional side effects of excessive singing and nose-tweaking. . . I really don't know where you get these brain waves, my boy.. unless it's just your mother's genes coming out in you!"

"Oh. . . yeah, maybe." Harry said.

I had covered my nose discretely as the potion that Ernie had created was spewing horrid fumes.

The bell rang, Ernie and Draco left a once.

"Sir." Harry said but Slughorn was already leaving the dungeon. "Professor- Professor, don't you want to taste my po-?" Harry called desperately but the door closed.

I sighed, "No go Harry. But I'd certainly like to try some if you don't mind. You should try some too."

We both took a few sips and a familiar feeling flooded through me.

"Oh. My. God." Harry said, looking dazed. "That is amazing."

I picked up my cauldron and told Harry I'd see him later, and hurried up to Severus' office. Since class had let out, there were no students in the classroom and I passed through with no qualms.

I set the cauldron down in the corner. I noticed Severus had already labelled ingredients in different bottles and jars for me. I quickly finished adding the other ingredients and stirring. Severus came in a few minutes later.

"How was class?" He asked, taking a seat at his desk and picking up his quill.

"Wonderful. . ." I said, carefully counting the rotations as I stirred. Perfect, it had to be perfect.

There was a silence that contained scratching quills and momentary pauses where it was dipped in the pot of ink, bubbling from the cauldron, and soft breathing. But the potion Harry had made was making something weird happen to me.

I finally set everything aside. It was to sit and stew for about three and a half weeks and seven hours to the dot. I pulled out my potions calendar, marking the specific time. The good thing was my time-turner. If I didn't manage to get there the first time, I could most definitely get there the second time.

I stood up, getting ready to go down to dinner when Severus said unexpectedly, "It really was brilliant art, Elizabeth."

"Sorry?" I questioned.

Severus looked up momentarily, his black eyes boring into mine. "The portraits. They really were brilliant."

"You set yours on fire." I pointed out, my lips twitching to keep from smiling.

"Yes. . ." Severus said, turning back to his parchment. "You're going to ruin my image as a cold hearted person. People might actually think I'm soft."

I laughed, walking up behind him and hugging him from behind. "Your much softer than you let on." I kissed his cheek and then paused. Euphoria. I took the quill from his hand and turned the chair around, sitting on his lip, pressing my lips to his neck. He let out a small noise, perhaps a gasp, perhaps a moan, I wasn't sure.

Perhaps I shouldn't have taken the Euphoria potion because I seemed to have unlimited energy and didn't feel deterred by anything at all.

I slipped his robes from his shoulders, letting them fall. He pushed me off of him so that he could get out of the chair, and we stumbled through the door of the bedroom and onto the bed. I was on top of him, letting him slide into me easily. I moved with him quickly, my breasts bouncing carelessly and I barely noticed the pain. All I could think about was the enjoyment of him inside of me and my hands in his soft, silky hair. His hands reached up to cup my breasts, pulling me down slightly so his lips could kiss them. I buried my face in his neck.

He rolled over as I moaned softly, his hands clutching at my hips, moving gently now. Strange, usually we started slow and made our way up in speed. We seemed to be doing the opposite and it was lovely. He reached up with one hand to cover my breast, squeezing softly, while the other snaked around to the back of my head, bringing my head up to be closer to his.

Our lips reached the others skin at different spots, not necessarily each others lips. The small bursts of delightfulness was punctured with small bites of pain. But it was all lovely and in my current state, everything seemed heightened tenfold.

"What. . . what was that?" Severus asked, almost breathlessly as we laid there, the blankets curling around our legs, our clothes scattered on the floor.

"Harry gave me a potion of euphoria." I muttered, pent out of energy now that the effects of the potion had worn out. My cheek rested on his chest "I have no idea what just happened. . . I mean, I know what happened. . . I just don't know how it happened."

Severus chuckled, kissing my neck. I shivered slightly under his touch. Bloody hell.

"I should um- I should go down to dinner- yeah- dinner." I said, breathing normally again.

"As should I." Severus said. "Though I feel quite exhausted at the moment."

I too felt quite tired and would've liked to have laid there and fallen asleep. But I couldn't. So I giggled, moving away from the bed, and getting dressed again, before leaving the classroom to go down to dinner.

After dinner, I ducked into the bathroom and upon finding it empty, I turned into a cat and strode from the room.

I had to run from some Ravenclaw first-year girls who thought I was just a sweet little kitten, and after hiding on top of a suit of armor, finally made my way back to the entrance hall, and slipped out the door, sprinting across the lawn to get to Hagrid's house.

I transformed back outside the door- I didn't really want to face Fang as a cat.

"Yeh came!" Hagrid said, pulling me into a hug. He wasn't crying- at the moment- but his eyes were red and puffy.

"Harry'll be down soon." I said. "Ron and Hermione couldn't come though."

"Don' matter, don' matter." Hagrid said, sitting back down in a chair. I made a pot of tea and gave him a cup which he drank with trembling fingers. I waited, pacing the cabin, waiting for Harry. Fang followed me, looking for head scratches which I gave occasionally.

There was a knock on the door and Hagrid was up, opening the door. Harry stood there, his invisibility cloak held out in front of him.

"Yeh came." Hagrid repeated.

"Yeah-Ron and Hermione couldn't though, they're really sorry." Harry said smoothly. Perhaps it was my imagination, but there almost seemed a faint gold hue around Harry. But it was so slight that Hagrid had not noticed it. Perhaps it was my sight. I had noticed that my sight and hearing had changed slightly since becoming an Animagus (a side effect that wasn't mentioned anywhere in the books or manuscripts).

"Don'- don' matter. . . He'd've bin touched yeh're here, though, Harry. . ." Hagrid said with a loud sob. Harry patted his elbow gently.

"Where are we burying him? The Forest?" Harry asked.

"Blimey, no. The other spiders won' let me anywhere near their webs now! Aragog's gone. Turns out it was on'y on his orders they didn' eat me! Can yeh believe that, Harry?" Hagrid said while wiping his eyes on the bottom of his shirt.

"I think he mentioned something like that when we went to talk to him." I said casually, sitting down. Fang came over, setting his head on my knees and I grimaced at the slobber. I really had never been a dog person. And I liked the cute dogs, the little Pomeranians and huskies and retrievers and bichon frises and labs and beagles. Bulldogs, pitbulls, pugs, boarhounds, ugh.

I had gotten along with Fang in my second year, having lived in Hagrid's cabin for nearly two months because I figured living in Hagrid's cabin by myself was safer than staying in the castle with lots and lots of people. Fang could grow on you if you could get used to slobber.

"Never bin an are o' the forest I couldn' go before! It wasn' easy, gettin' Aragog's body out o' there, I can tell yeh- they usually eat their dead, see. . . But I wanted ter give 'im a nice burial. . . a proper send-off. . ." Hagrid said, not paying me any attention.

"I can't go near the centaurs anymore." I said randomly. What the hell were the side effects of the Euphoria potion?

"Professor Slughorn met me coming down here, Hagrid." Harry said, resuming the patting of the elbow.

"Not in trouble, are yeh?" Hagrid asked, so alarmed that Harry might be in trouble he stopped crying. "Yeh shouldn' be outta the castle in the evenin', I know it, it's my fault-"

"No, no, when he heard what I was doing he said he'd like to come and pay his last respects to Aragog too. He's gone to change into something more suitable, I think. . . and he said he'd bring some bottles so we can drink to Aragog's memory."

"Tha's- tha's righ' nice of him, that is, an' not turnin' yeh in either. I've never really had a lot ter do with Horace Slughorn before. . . Comin' ter see old Aragog off, though, eh? Well. . . he'd've liked that, Aragog would. . ." Hagrid muttered.

I snorted quietly and drank my tea. Then I sighed, putting my teacup down and pulled a piece of paper out of my back pocket. "Here, I drew this for you."

Hagrid took it in a shaking hand and unfolded it and started to sob. I quickly grabbed it from his hands so the charcoal wouldn't run.

"It's- it's beautiful." Hagrid sobbed and I put the drawing of Aragog up on his dresser so that he could see it. It was a horrible drawing- not because it was bad (if I may be so humble) but rather horrible in a gruesome way. The way I'd seen Aragog through my scared twelve-year old eyes. Strange, I felt so much older than sixteen now.

"Are we going to bury him here, Hagrid, in your garden?" Harry asked after a moment when Hagrid had stopped sobbing.

"Jus' beyond the pumpkin patch, I thought. I've already dug the- yeh know- grave. Jus' though we'd say a few nice things over him- happy memories, yeh know-"

There was a knock at the door and I stood, getting it and letting Professor Slughorn in. "Hagrid, so very sorry to hear of your loss."

"Tha's very nice of yeh. Thanks a lot. An' thanks fer not givin' Harry detention neither. . ." Hagrid said gruffly, all tears done and gone.

"Wouldn't have dreamed of it. Sad night, sad night. . . where is the poor creature?" Slughorn asked, his eyes roaming the cabin and settling on the drawing.

"Out here," Hagrid said, leaving the cabin. "Shall we- shall we do it, then?"

"Wonderful artwork Miss Kane." Professor Slughorn complimented, "You've got quite the eye for artistic beauty."

"Thank you Professor." I said quietly, briefly remembering that my drawing of him had him dressed in a pineapple suit, and I took up the rear of the party.

The moon was glistening on the grounds so that everything was in shadow. The moon rays mixed and intermingled with the light from Hagrid's windows just enough to make out the large boulder like shadow. There, before it, was a massive pit that was ten-feet-deep with a matching sized pile of dirt to go with it.

"Magnificent." Professor Slughorn said, striding to the front of the spider's face. I could only imagine it faking death and reaching out, snapping off a leg to feast on. I suddenly felt quite nauseous. I quickly put a hand on my stomach.

I could hear the tinkle of bottles and rolled my eyes. So the walrus had come for the Acromantula venom, was I surprised?

"It's not ev'ryone appreciates how beau'iful they are. I didn' know yeh were int'rested in creatures like Aragog, Horace."

"Interested? My dear Hagrid, I revere them." Slughorn said, taking a step back from the body. I could understand his point. It would be a horrible idea not to respect them. The same way you should revere Centaurs and Merpeople so they didn't kill you with a bow or a spear. There were a lot of rules to follow in the magical world. "Now. . . shall we proceed to the burial?"

Hagrid nodded and moved forward, pushing against the black spider's body and it fell into the pit with a crunch. I winced. Hagrid started to cry.

"Of course, it's difficult for you, who knew him best." Professor Slughorn said, patting Hagrid's elbow. "Why don't I say a few words?"

I came to stand next to Hagrid who wrapped a massive arm around my shoulders. My knees nearly buckled under the weight of the arm but I managed to keep standing though I felt as though I was carrying two bookbags with twenty textbooks in them.

"Farewell, Aragog, king of arachnids," Professor Slughorn said in an impressive voice, something like a preacher I'd heard at a church before. "whose long and faithful friendship those who knew you won't forget! Though your body will decay, your spirit lingers on in the quiet, web-spun places of your forest home. May your many-eyed descendants ever flourish and your human friends find solace for the loss they have sustained!"

"Tha' was. . . tha' was. . . beau'ful!" Hagrid sobbed and he collapsed onto the heap, crying harder than ever before. Even I had tears springing to my eyes, though I was sure that had to do more with the high emotions running around here than the actual sadness that Aragog was dead. But I hated it when Hagrid was upset.

"There, there." Slughorn said and with a wave of his wand, the earth crashed back into the grave, smoothing over the surface. "Let's get inside and have a drink. Get on his other side, Harry. . . That's it. . . Up you come, Hagrid. . . well done. . ."

Hagrid was deposited in a chair at the table. Fang came padding over and put his head on Harry's lap as usual. I think Fang liked Harry better than me and I was quite okay with that. Professor Slughorn uncorked one of the bottles he had brought.

"I have had it all tested for poison." He said in what he obviously thought a reassuring voice. "Had a house-elf taste every bottle after what happened to your poor friend Rupert."

I had many retorts for that comment, some of them about the cruelty for house-elves, and some of them about what 'Rupert's' real name was.

"One for Harry. . . one for me. . . and one for Elizabeth. . ." Slughorn said, diving the second bottle between the three of us. The first bottle had been fully deposited into Hagrid's tankard. "Well- to Aragog."

"Aragog." Harry, Hagrid, and I said together, also lifting our glasses.

Hagrid and Slughorn drank deeply. Harry didn't drink at all. I took a small sip and did not find the texture or taste to my taste. I'd never liked wine or alcoholic substances. I set the glass down on the table. I supposed I could hand it over if they wanted more drink.

"I had him from an egg, yeh know. Tiny little thing he was when he hatched. 'Bout the size of a Pekingese." Hagrid started down the tale.

"Sweet." Slughorn said.

"Used ter keep him in a cupboard up at the school until. . . well. . ." Hagrid's face darkened and a peculiar thought came over me.

If Slughorn had taught Tom Riddle, and Tom Riddle and Hagrid had gone to the school at the same time, then Slughorn had taught Hagrid as well. I found this much more fascinating than the story that was unfolding. I loved finding connections where none seemed to be. I always felt the need to share it too and on instinct, I looked over at Harry, but kept my mouth shut.

"That's never unicorn hair, Hagrid?" Slughorn asked, eyeing Hagrid's walls with interest. Hagrid collected things he found in forest- unicorn tail hair included. I'd helped him collect some. It got caught on bushes and ferns and was quite easy to pick up.

"Oh yeah," Hagrid said with indifference. "Gets pulled out of their tails, they catch it on branches an' stuff in the forest, yeh know. . ."

"But my dear chap, do you know how much that's worth?" Slughorn asked in awe.

"I use it fer bindin' on bandages an' stuff if a create gets injured. It's dead useful. . . very strong, see." Hagrid said with another shrug.

There was quite a difference between the educated and the uneducated, I noticed. Hagrid had only three years of schooling (at least at Hogwarts) and yet, he didn't see things for their monetary value. He'd even passed on some of his skills to me, using unicorn hair for bandages and other things. Slughorn on the other hand. . . Aragog's venom was rare, very expensive, very valuable. . . unicorn hair could be sold to wand makers. . .

They had ventured into tale about the Centaurs of the forest and I listened with vivid interest as Hagrid told recent stories of Ivagio, Ronan, Bane, and the others. I had missed some of them- Bane excluded- and hearing recent stories was quite nice. I thought about retelling some of the stories to Firenze, but I wasn't sure how he'd take it or if it would make him more upset.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Harry wave his wand slightly and the bottle on the table refilled. I said nothing, grabbing my own cup and turned the wine into pumpkin juice. Then I started to take small sips while listening to Hagrid and Slughorn trade stories about the illegal dragon trades they'd taken part of.

Harry continued to refill the bottle and they started to get drunker. They started to make random toasts to some random, some not random things. To Hogwarts, to Dumbledore, to elf-made wine, and to Harry.

"Harry Potter!" Hagrid bellowed, slopping another bucket of wine down his front. I felt how I had felt coming to Grimmauld 12 before Christmas and finding Sirius had been drinking as he had been alone for a long time. I was quite upset, watching him drink himself into oblivion, but I did nothing to interfere.

"Yes, indeed, Parry Otter, the Chosen Boy Who- well- something of that sort." Slughorn mumbled.

Parry Otter. I laughed aloud and neither seemed to notice. Harry's lips twitched for a millisecond.

Hagrid became tearful soon after, reaching up and pulling the whole band of unicorn hair off of the ceiling and gave it to Slughorn. Slughorn put it in his pocket saying, "To friendship! To generosity! To ten Galleons a hair!"

I watched the end of the unicorn hair slip into his pocket, more upset than was rational. Hagrid and I had spent classes searching for unicorn hair. While easy to take off, unicorns were usually quite careful and rarely caught their tails on bushes unless they were already loose. It was going to take ages to find more unicorn hair for bandages. What if a magical creature got hurt? We would have nothing to bind their wounds with. . . unless something else could be used? Maybe Firenze could teach me something.

They started to sing and I put my head on my arms, wondering when the night was going to end. I suppose I could've left, but I didn't want to. Something was keeping me here.

Some called him Odo the early and some called him Odo the late It's undoubtedly true he was often confused, but his deeds they were noble and great

Some name him born on a Wednesday, for he had his measure of woe. No he was born on a Thursday some say, for he'd always a long way to go.

"Aaargh, the good die young," Hagrid muttered after slumping into his chair. "Me dad was no age ter go... nor were yer mum an' dad, Harry..." More tears oozed from his eyes and he grabbed Harry's arm and shook it. I watched the scene with sadness. "Bes' wiz and witchard o' their age I never knew... terrible thing... terrible thing..."

And Odo the hero, they bore him back home To the place that he'd known as a lad, They laid him to rest with his hat inside out And his wand snapped in two, which was sad.

"...terrible." Hagrid grunted one last time before falling asleep.

"Sorry, can't carry a tune to save my life." Professor Slughorn said with a hiccup.

"Hagrid wasn't talking about your singing. He was talking about my mum and dad dying." Harry said in a soft voice, the first time he'd talked ever since coming back into the cabin.

I flinched. Mum and Dad. I felt a sudden wave of grief and longing.

"Oh. Oh dear. Yes, that was- was terrible indeed. Terrible. . . terrible. . ." Slughorn said with a horrible belch. He refilled the mugs, obviously having nothing else to say but said anyways, "I don't- don't suppose you remember it, Harry?"

"No- well, I was only one when they died." Harry said. I was looking at the floor because I was crying. "But I've found out pretty much what happened since. My dad died first. Did you know that?"

"I- I didn't." Slughorn said in a quiet voice.

"Yeah. . . Voldemort murdered him and then stepped over his body toward my mum. He told her to get out of the way. He told me she needn't have died. He only wanted me. She could have run."

I imagined for a moment, if she had stepped aside. Voldemort would have only of killed Dad and Harry. It would've been me and her. Sirius would've helped her raise me and Lupin would have too. I could've later avenged Harry's killer. Or maybe Dumbledore would have destroyed him before I was even eleven.

"Oh dear. She could have. . . she needn't. . . That's awful. . ." Slughorn murmured.

"It is, isn't it? But she didn't move. Dad was already dead, but she didn't want me to go too. She tried to plead with Voldemort. . . but he just laughed. . ."

"That's enough! Really, my dear boy, enough. . . I'm an old man. . . I don't need to hear. . . I don't want to hear. . ."

He didn't want to hear what he had done.

"I forgot, you liked her, didn't you?" Harry asked. I shot him a quick look. Slughorn doted on his mother everyday, surely Harry couldn't have forgotten that! Or perhaps he was faking it.

"Liked her? I don't imagine anyone who met her wouldn't have liked her. . . Very brave. . . Very funny. . . It was the most horrible thing. . ."

"But you won't help her son. She gave me her life, but you won't give me a memory." Harry said.

Hagrid's snoring was all that filled the room at that moment. Even Fang was silent.

"Don't say that. It isn't a question. . . If it were to help you, of course. . . but no purpose can be served. . ."

"It can. Dumbledore needs information. I need information." Harry said loudly and firmly. Harry leaned forward a little. "I am the Chosen One. I have to kill him. I need that memory."

"You are the Chosen one?"

"Of course I am."

"But then. . . my dear boy. . . you're asking a great deal. . . you're asking me, in fact, to aid you in your attempt to destroy-"

"You don't want to get rid of the wizard you killed Lily Evans?"

"Harry, Harry, of course I do, but-"

"You're scared he'll find out you helped me?"

Slughorn said nothing.

"Be brave like my mother, Professor. . ."

Slughorn lifted his fingers to his mouth as though he were trying to smoke an invisible cigar. "I am not proud. . . I am ashamed of what- of what that memory shows. . . I think I may have done great damage that day. . ."

He had.

"You'd cancel out anything you did by giving me the memory. It would be a very brave and noble thing to do." Harry said.

Would it though? Would it cancel out everything?

Hagrid twitched his sleep, his elbow nearly knocking over the tankard. I watched as though hypnotized. There was a long silence. They both waited, a type of staring contest seemed to be going on between the two of them.

Finally Slughorn touched the tip of his wand to his temple and withdrew it, a long silver thread of memory stretched until it broke. It swung from the end of the wand until Slughorn put it into a small bottle and passed it, with a trembling hand, to Harry. He had tears in his eyes, or maybe his face was just obscured by my tears.

"Thank you very much, Professor."

"You're a good boy, and you've got her eyes. . . Just don't think too badly of me once you've seen it. . ." And with that, he put his head down and with a deep sigh, fell asleep.

⬅️➡️

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shippergirl-14 · 9 months

Text

Hii, even though this apps had been on my phone for months I have no idea how to use it, but here have a South Park one shot I wrote.

It’s Creek bc they are adorable and btw I don’t fluently speak English so I‘m sorry for any mistakes

Clyde isn’t always wrong

" I'm sorry, Craig. I don't feel the same."

Blue eyes filled with guilt and other undetectable emotions were glued to the snowy ground. Tweek bit his tongue, stopping himself from apologizing over and over again. He shouldn't be apologizing in the first place, yet the little voice in his head was messing with him. He knew exactly what this was about, so there was no point in feeling bad. Without sparing his classmate another glance, the blonde left him in the cold.

Craig hasn't even noticed that he was alone now. His heart was still racing from the adrenaline rushing through his veins. The loud beating reached to his ears, drowning out any sounds around him and it hurt. What hurt even more was the fact he had got rejected by the boy he had fancied for the past year.

How could he not like Tweek Tweak ? He was perfect and would remind the stoic boy every time he stepped into his view. Would he still smile at Craig whenever they passed each other in the hallways ? Would he still turn around in his seat to have a little chat once in a while ? Had he completely ruined his chances of getting closer to the coffee addict by confessing to him ?

" Yo, dude. How did it go ?" An arm wrapped itself around his shoulder and the face of his annoying best friend Clyde came in view. This had been his idea. How could he be so dumb and listen to Clyde ? " I got rejected", he stated bluntly, still in shock over this realization. " Wait ! What ?" The grin that graced the brunette's face turned into a frown. " You're messing with me. There is no way." Craig rolled his eyes.

" Better believe it. You were wrong. He doesn't like me." Jimmy and Tolkien, who were standing right behind them, exchanged a worried glance. " I'm sorry, Craig. Is there anything we can do to make you feel better ?", the latter asked, stepping closer. " It's fine. Just leave me alone for a bit", their friend mumbled, freeing himself from the tight grib of the idiot.

Craig wanted to kick himself in the ass for confessing right before school started. Now, he was stuck with Tweek for the whole day. It would be awkward. God, could he get more stupid ? Hesitantly, he dragged his drained body to the building, hoping this day would be over soon. You couldn't blame him for wishing nothing more than hiding under his space themed blanket and ignoring his problems by sleeping until he couldn't anymore.

Maybe he would even cry, but what use would that be ? Crying was pathetic and it wouldn't magically change Tweek's mind. Clyde had always told him, it lifted a heavy weight from his shoulders after bawling his eyes out, but there was no way he would ever take the crybaby's advice seriously.

The hallways were as noisy as every morning. How could kids be that active at this ungodly hour ? Craig didn't have the energy to flip the kids, playing football, off as he was walking to class. Spotting the familiar mess of blonde hair, his heart clenched and he averted his eyes from the hurtful sight that would always remind him of the pain in his chest. Of course, an angel like the blonde wouldn't like a rude motherfucker like Craig Tucker! How could he have possibly thought that it wasn't this way ?

Tiredly, he fell into his seat far in the back as soon as he reached his class. If he was lucky enough the teacher would leave him alone for the day and if Mister Garrison wouldn't he always had the option to show him his middle finger. Maybe he would be sent home, escaping this hell hole, however he would rather avoid his mother's wrath that would come at him for being disciplined again. Skipping wasn't a possibility either, therefore he had to suffer in silence the whole day.

Stretching out his arms over the small desk, he placed his head on the table, not able to keep it up. All his energy had left his body the moment his ears had picked up the pitying tone of Tweek's voice. " Crushes are stupid", he told himself while playing with the eraser that had seen more colors than his actual notebook. Did everyone have the habit of drawing on the white little thing ? Philosophizing about everything and nothing might keep his mind at bay.

Unknown to him, bright blue eyes were fixed on him as the owner was biting his lips in the same nervous demeanor excepted from him.

The loud noises of the annoying bell couldn't rip Craig out of his trance. Had his teacher tried to talk to him ? Was this the end of the first period ? Why did people tend to cling to the tiniest string of hope, even though it was pointless ? He had no answer to any of those questions.

" Yo dude, aren't you getting up ?" A hand shook his shoulder violently, trying to stop the boy from drowning in his thoughts. Blinking confused, the space enthusiast managed to sit back up in his chair, analyzing the faces of his three friends. " It's time for lunch, come on" Tolkien pulled the energetic brunette away from the shell that used to be his classmate. It was no secret how hard Craig had fallen for the paranoid kid, which was only further proven with this kind of reaction. None of them had expected him to be rejected. It was just so weird.

" Oh", was the only thing that left the ravenette's dry lips before he rose from his place and followed the others to the cafeteria. Why would he even come here ? His stomach refused any food and the seemingly tasty tacos on the tray, that's been pushed into his arms, wouldn't change that fact. " I'm not hungry." A sentence his group had ignored, informing him how important a healthy diet was and that he shouldn't skip meals.

In the end, his plate hadn't been touched and the tallest wasn't even listening to the on going conversation. That wasn't surprising. Tolkien couldn't bare seeing the usual unaffected guy so heart broken. Even though he would rarely agree with Clyde, he had been just as convinced as him that Tweek would reciprocate his feelings.

It was so obvious. Shy glances whenever Craig wasn't looking, bright smiles whenever they had a lively conversation, baked gifts that he claimed to be too much for him to eat. The blonde even was calmer around him ! What did they miss ? Were all of those things just their imagination ? There was no way.

In the corner of his eye, Tolkien spotted said blonde disappearing into the hallways and decided to follow him. Excusing himself from the table, he quickly jump to his feet and sprinted after the person that could give him clarity. Fortunately, he witnessed him entering the bathroom, which should be empty around this time. Without hesitation, the dark haired boy opened the door and called out, " Tweek !"

" Gah !", came in response. Only, after the name holder was able to recover from his mini heart, he backed away, eyes widened in fear. "

Ahh, what do you want ? Kill me ?" His blonde locks were the first victim of his anxiety outburst as he grabbed a handful and yanked it. He had been on edge the whole day.

" What ? No ! Why would I even-", the other yelled back defensive and surprised, yet quickly came back to his senses, " look, Tweek. I'm just here to talk to you." The words seemed to have an effect on his classmate, as he was loosening the grib on his hair and was more willing to listen. " You're not gonna kick my ass for rejecting Craig ?"

" No, I wouldn't do such a thing, but I want to know why you rejected him." Tolkien kept his distance, observing his every step. The way he was now biting his finger nails reminded him how uncomfortable the other boy was under his piercing gaze. " Gah ! Why are you looking at me like that ? This is too much pressure !"

The coffee addict didn't have a glue how to handle this situation. Why would Craigs friend stare at him like that ? Was he mad ? Would he actually kill him and was hiding his true intentions ? Why were they targeting him anyway ?

Considering the fact that Tolkien hadn't backed down, his best choice was to answer his question. " Because I don't like him." That was a good enough reason to not get together with someone, right ?

Something was definitely wrong here. Everyone was aware that the anxious teen struggled with holding eye contact, yet he would occasionally met his conversational partners' gaze. However now, his eyes were fixed on the dirty floor as if it was the most interesting thing on earth.

Then it finally hit him. " You're lying." There was no other explanation for his increased anxiety and fidgeting. The blonde always had trouble being untruthful as he was too worried about getting caught. Only one question remained, though. Why would he say he didn't like Craig if he clearly did ?

" Gahh ! I'm not lying ! I don't like him", Tweek yelled, facing his classmate for the first time since he entered the bathroom, " you can tell your friends, too ! I don't like him and I'm definitely not falling for your bullshit !"

" What do you mean ? What bullshit ?" The older male was beyond confused. Nothing the younger was spouting made any sense.

" Don't give me that crap ! I know exactly what you were trying and I'm not falling for it again !" He pointed a finger accusingly at Tolkien. " I know Craig doesn't actually like me ! He can stop pretending to be sad."

" Tweek, take a deep breath and listen to me." The rich boy cautiously stepped closer, avoiding startling the already freaked out kid. With a calm tone, he carried on, " I still haven't figured out what this is all about but Craig really does like you and he isn't pretending to be sad."

" How do I know you're telling the truth ?"

" Well, for instance, Craig sucks at acting. Do you remember that one musical in seventh grade ? That should speak for itself." He chuckled remembering the embarrassing performance of his friend, also attempting to cut the tension by joking. " He is also always looking at you and trying to get close to you, thinking he is sneaky, but it's actually super obvious."

" Oh", was the only thing that left the blonde's mouth, clearly trying to process this information. Suddenly, he gasped, breaking the silence. " Oh my god ! He really sucks at acting ! Does he actually like me ? Oh god, I'm so stupid. Why do I keep messing up ?"

" Woah, Tweek. Calm down." Gently, Tolkien placed his hands on the tense shoulders of the shaking male. " Can you tell me why you claimed to not like him when you actually do ?"

" I thought you were pulling a prank on me, but now I messed up badly and made Craig sad. He probably hates me now. What do I do ? This is too much pressure !" How could he be so cruel and accuse Craig of playing with his feelings ? Again, he had proven that he was nothing more than a paranoid freak.

" Just talk to him. I'm sure if you explain whatever had stopped you from accepting his confession he will understand." Tolkien smiled encouraging, hoping it would help to ease the other's nerves. The notification sound of his phone forced him to release his grib on Tweek and checked the noisy device. " Oh, Craig is leaving", he read the message of Clyde out loud.

" I need to fix this !", the anxious male stated, clearly not convinced of his abilities, yet he would do whatever it took to not have Craig hate him. " Thank you", he showed his gratitude to his classmate, running out of the door immediately, before his mind could tell him this was a bad idea.

Arriving outside, he quickly caught glimpse of a blue hat, whose owner was walking towards the bus stop. " Craig !", he called out, rushing over the fast he could. The ravenette spun around, not expecting to be adressed, far less from Tweek himself.

Regaining his composure, he crossed his arms and glared at the boy, that was bending over and panting heavily in front of him. " What do you want ?" He didn't mean to sound so pissed and make Tweek flinch, but he wasn't in the mood for talking. What could he possibly want now after breaking his heart ? Apologizing again ? No, thanks.

" I lied", his classmate blurted out between breaths, not providing any further explanation. " What's that supposed to mean ?"

" I lied about not liking you. I do like you", he admitted, feeling a bit relieved to have finally been able to confess as well. If he hadn't been so scared from the start he would have spilled his feelings. Another reason to hate his overthinking mind.

" What the actual fuck, Tweek ?!", Craig raised his voice in utter disbelief what he had just heard, " is this some sort of joke ? Dude, you literally rejected not five hours ago ! Why the fuck did you do that if you like me ?" On the one hand, he was furious. Did Tweek just wanted to make him suffer even more ? His classmate wouldn't intentionally hurt others, yet he couldn't be entirely sure at the moment. His words reminded him of the aching pain in his chest that he couldn't get rid of. Even though his admission might be fake, it made his heart jump. Nevertheless, he wouldn't let himself cling to the silver of hope solely to be rejected again.

On the other hand, he was confused. If his love wasn't unrequited, then why wouldn't the coffee addict accept his invite to a date in the first place ? His mind couldn't come up with any possible explanations, so he just kept on glaring angrily at the nervous boy, expecting him to deliver a really good reason for his behavior.

" I thought you were playing a prank on me and-" Tweek was immediately interrupted by the offended male. " Do you really think I would do such a thing ? Play with your feelings ? Do you really think I'm that kind of person ?" He couldn't even be mad anymore. He was just sad. His crush didn't saw him as more than a stoic asshole. That stung.

" No, no ! That's not it ! I'm always super nervous whenever you talk to me and then you suddenly confessed your feelings and I was like " no, Craig is way too cool to like you" and then I spotted your friends hiding behind a tree and then I panicked more and just blurted out that I don't like you", the anxious kid started rambling on. The words were leaving his mouth too fast to be understood, yet Craig magically comprehended the mess of a sentence. Only when a shaking hand reached out to yank at his hair, he dared to step closer and gently take the hand in his.

Ignoring his pounding heart and the warmth that washed over him, he interlocked their fingers, hoping to prevent the dreading panic attack. It worked better than he had expected. Even though Tweek was still trembling, he had relaxed his body the moment they had touched.

" You think I'm cool ?", Craig suddenly questioned, remembering what the other previously said.

" Of course, I do. You literally know everything about space and star constellations, you're so good at math and physics it's insane. You almost always keep your cool", Tweek listed merely a few things he admired about his crush, however he could go on for days. " I never thought anyone would consider this things cool", Craig responded bashfully, before regaining his composure and clearing his throat, " I still don't understand why you thought I would be pulling a prank on you and what it had to do with my friends watching."

Shifting uncomfortably under his gaze, Tweek bit his already abused lip. " Okay, I will tell you", he spoke quietly, eyes darting to the ground, " two years ago, I had a big crush on a regular costumer of our coffee shop. He would always strike a conversation and I thought he might have been flirting, as well. I was so obviously in love with him. It's embarrassing. One day, he was waiting outside for me and claimed that he wanted to tell me something. I failed to see his friends hiding behind a car"

Blue eyes were shut tightly as he inhaled to brace himself for the next part of his story. " He confessed and I was overjoyed, so of course I accepted. The moment, I said "yes", he started laughing with his friends joining in. He told me the confession was only a dare and that it was too easy to fool me. When you confessed this morning, I had flashbacks of this day", he finished his story, too ashamed to look at Craig.

" I know you aren't like that, but I'm always assuming the worst because I'm always so god damn anxious and annoying." The ravenette shook his head and squeezed his hand reassuringly. " You aren't annoying. Don't spit nonsense about yourself." His tone was soft and his eyes displayed the love he felt for the blonde. " and now I understand you better. If something like this had happened to me I would have been suspicious, as well. I'm really sorry that this asshole broke your trust. This dude deserves a beating."

" You don't hate me anymore ?", Tweek asked, still afraid that his crush might be still mad. " Tweek, I never hated you. I was just upset", Craig eased his mind with a small smile, " would you now like to go on a date with me ?" This time, the blonde didn't hesitate to answer, " Of course, I would like that. Tell me when and where." Both of them had a big grin planted on their faces as they we were gazing at each other.

" How about right now ? Let's go to the cinema", the taller boy proposed, giving the smaller one another heart attack as he started pulling him in his desired direction. " But what about class ? We're gonna get in so much trouble", Tweek interjected nervously, yet let himself be dragged by his ecstatic date. " Who cares. We're already too late anyway, so why not skip." The blonde was quickly convinced since he would rather spent time with him than listen to Mister Garrison talk. As long as Craig was by his side he would be fine.

Even though the day started out awful for him, everything seemed to have turned around for Craig. Maybe he should listen to Clyde more often ?

———————

Hii, if you enjoyed that you could always look at my other works on wattpad or ao3 ^^

#south park #sp creek #sp craig #sp tweek #craig tucker #tweek tweak #craig x tweek

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madame-ellunas-moonlit-readings · 1 year

Text

May 5 - The Dead Travel Fast

Re Dracula/Dracula Daily

Wow. This one was a longer one. I didn't mind it. It was, again, a very good story. But after chapters just 4-7 minutes, 38 minutes was a touch blindsiding. 😂 Apparently it's because Jonathon wrote an entry long enough to be split into 2 chapters. At first I mistook it for 2 separate entries on the same day. But no, that wasn't the case. Woops. I'll be reacting/writing accordingly, thus the chapters.

I wound up reading the Dracula Daily email while listening to the podcast to better follow it. Until now i had been skimming it, but this was a real read along. I'm glad for the decision because I noticed some interesting differences.

I'll get to that in a bit, moving onto the story.

Chapter 1

Poor Jonathon is not off to a good start. The poor thing can't sleep at all and the scenery is looking jagged and indistinct. Again, very ominous. The days experience was so strange and awful he felt the need to note what his dinner had been so readers wouldn't think him a drunk. It sounded delicious, I was actually kind of jealous. He ate robber steak which is bits of bacon, onion and beef seasoned with red pepper and served as a kebab, paired with a wine called 'Golden Mediasch'. The story calls the kebab style 'cat's meat', which made for an interesting research dip. I'll leave some links down the bottom.

When the coach came it drew quite a crowd. They gawked and stared, making crosses and warding off the evil eye, yelling in various languages words like 'hell', 'witch' and something that was either 'were-wolf' or 'vampire'. My bet's on vampire but who knows, maybe it's both. Wouldn't recommend asking the Count after them though. I love Jon's polyglot dictionary. Seems very useful.

Jonathon's poet tongue made a comeback on the journey. His descriptions of the area are breathtaking (though I suppose I should be extending that praise to Stoker). It starts off with brighter scenery, orchards of apple, plum, pear and cherry (it didn't say they were orchards but I think they were), rolling green hills, grasses, woods and forests. Before gradually turning to darker tones, becoming, rugged, jagged, snowy, shadowy , grey and steep, with large groups of praying peasants. You can feel Jonathon's spirits rise and fall. I enjoyed it rather a bit, got completely absorbed in it.

The scenery and explanations given for the conditions on the roads really show the movement from Winter into Spring. I mean, I know I should've gotten that from the date alone, but I'm from the Southern Hemisphere, be nice. Jonathon continues to make for good source of information. I had no idea the roads in the Carpathians were kept poorly to avoid dangerous misunderstandings and conflict with the Turks. How interesting.

Props to the coachman. He tried to break the tensions with a joke that fell a bit flat. A poor attempt is still an attempt. Though his neck-breaking rush seems to be spooking Jonathon too much for anything from him to work, The other passengers getting worked up isn't helping either. The podcast did this well. Their urging voices really amped up the tension. It did take me by surprise that the rush was an attempt to keep Jonathon from heading to the Count. Again. Props to the man. But unfortunately he was busted.

See, here was where I noticed the difference between Dracula Daily (email) and Re Dracula (podcast). The dialogue for when the driver of the Count's calèche confronted the coachmen are different.

Re Dracula

That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina.

Dracula Daily

"That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and my horses are swift."

The podcast skipped a bit. I can't tell if it was an accident or not. It didn't harm the story, I doubt I'd have noticed at all if I wasn't reading along, but it was different.

Speaking of the calèche, it's mentioned quite a bit so here's what that looks like.

They're sure upping the creep factor of the driver, going on about his gleaming smile, very bright reddish eyes, sharp teeth and the like. Jonathon is definitely regretting his life choices and I agree. Should've listened to your instincts.

The travel just gets creepier and creepier. First they go round and round in a loop along their road while just going forwards. Barrier magic, anyone? Wards perhaps? Then blue fires that seem like wisps and howling spooked dogs that eventually gets taken over by wolves (definitely werewolves). Good luck escaping, Jonathon. I think your paths are closed. But hey, fright of your aside, at least you've made it to the castle, worn and ruined as it looks.

Chapter 2

Poor Jonathon's hindbrain seems to be kicking into action, noticing an odd strength in his driver, an iffy and nightmarish feeling about the place, flames that don't follow known logic and the Count, odd in both appearance and behaviour. But I finally know why he's there in the first place! He's a solicitor! There for business on the purchasing of an estate in London. Not a good sign in regards to Dracula's motives, but still!

Aww, so sweet. Mina seems to be a supportive woman if she's been lecturing him on his view of himself.

It's funny how his concerns were forgotten entirely once food was on the mind. I feel you. It's a bit worrisome, but I feel you. They came back pretty quick when the Count touched him. No Jon. You're not sick and the Count's breath isn't that bad. You're nauseous because your instincts are telling to pack your bags and be on your way. Best listen to them, if you can.

He's not in for a good day tomorrow. Not if he's spent the night letting his mind spin in fear for his life and soul. Good luck.

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

It was an interesting chapter, a very good one. They're certainly headed deep into building the setting. I'm looking forward to seeing how Jonathon Harker's (and how did I only just pick up his surname just now?) first day of work goes.

The promised links on Cat Meat Sellers

#madame ellunas moonlit readings #re dracula #dracula daily #may 5 #the dead travel fast #reactions #read along #Spotify

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createserenity · 1 year

Text

I wrote a thing!

I haven't written anything for a very long time but I wrote Good Omens fic because it came to me and wouldn't leave me alone. It's on AO3, here:

All The Pieces of You

Mostly it's smutty, with a side of fluff and a bit of angst.

Summary:

Aziraphale had known he found Crowley attractive for a long time, but there was nothing wrong with that. The Almighty had done a very nice job when she’d made Crowley and surely appreciating the work of the Almighty was what angels were supposed to do?

It was nothing more than that.

Set after the scene in Golgath, 33AD.

Aziraphale blamed the abaya.

He’d been able to deal with the hair. Crawley, or Crowley as he was now, had been flouncing around the earth with variations of that hairstyle often enough over the last four thousand years that Aziraphale could regard it with indifference.

Well, not exactly indifference, but at least with no more than a minor increase in his heart rate and a slight tingling in his stomach. It was the waves, that was the trouble, or maybe the curls. The curls had been beautiful. They had been the first thing he’d noticed when Crowley had slid up next to him on the walls of Eden and taken on his human form. The longer, looser curls he was sporting now were almost as pretty.

The problem was definitely the abaya.

Of course he hadn’t noticed it straight away, which was just as well, given the solemnity of the occasion. Crowley had lurked behind him during the crucifixion and Aziraphale had only caught glimpses of his face and head whenever he turned to speak to him. He’d known he was wearing a headwrap, the sort worn by the women of the region, and he noted the hair flowing down over Crowley’s shoulders and he’d told himself that everything was fine.

He’d known he found Crowley attractive for a long time. He’d found him attractive when he was an angel if it came to that, but mostly he’d regarded him in the same way one would regard a beautiful work of art. Aziraphale could tell himself there was nothing wrong with that; nothing wrong at all in finding Crowley beautiful. The Almighty had done a very nice job when she’d made Crowley and surely appreciating the work of the Almighty was what angels were supposed to do?

It was nothing more than that.

They’d stood in silence out there in the desert, until the sun had started slipping over the horizon, and a slight breeze had sprung up. Gradually the crowd had started to drift away and Crowley had broken the silence.

“Heading back to town, angel?”

He had been, so they’d walked together. And that was when he had seen it properly, and that was why he was now in trouble.

The problem was the thing looked so utterly right on Crowley. Aziraphale had no idea why he’d chosen to wear female clothes without adjusting his face or body in anyway, but apparently, he had. And he was carrying it off with a confidence Aziraphale could never have achieved.

The demon sauntered along beside him, the abaya perfectly showing off his lithe figure and the head wrap giving glimpses of silken red curls, and every part of him seemed to say, I’ve found my style, this is it and I don’t care what you think.

The wind picked up as they walked. Aziraphale had to try and stop his robes getting tangled in his legs and clutch at his coat to stop it blowing away. Crowley had no such problems, the abaya just fluttered elegantly around his legs and the end of the headwrap streamed out behind him, and Aziraphale envied the demon his poise.

He walked with Crowley all the way to the door of a house without even really thinking about what he was doing. He was too busy trying to identify the new feeling bubbling up inside him, and too busy trying to resist the strange urge to reach up and pull the headwrap aside.

Crowley opened the door and then turned, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe as he regarded Aziraphale with those impossible yellow eyes.

“Where are you staying?” he asked. His eyes were looking beyond Aziraphale, back up the road they had just walked.

The question snapped Aziraphale back to reality and he realised exactly where he was and how ridiculous it looked that he was there at all.

“Oh, uh… I…” he pulled himself together and cleared his throat, glancing around to see exactly where they were. The house looked abandoned from the outside, although Aziraphale had noticed furniture in the room beyond the door, and it wasn’t really in the town at all. It stood some distance from the walls, and even further from the market square where Aziraphale had hoped to find an inn with a room for the night. He cleared his throat again and turned back to Crowley.

“I’m just going to find lodgings somewhere. Only arrived this morning.” He smiled uncertainly and clutched at his coat as the wind picked up again, blowing from behind him and into the room.

It caught the material of the abaya, perfectly outlining Crowley’s lithe frame in the black material, and suddenly Aziraphale knew what lust felt like.

He’d never felt anything like it before. His heart pounded, his skin felt hot and he wanted… he wanted so badly. Was this how humans felt? Was this why they… they… His head swirled for a moment before the feeling settled a little and he found he had clutched at the doorframe for support.

Crowley narrowed his eyes at him thoughtfully and glanced down the road again.

“Storm’s coming, angel,” he said, “You’d better come in.”

Aziraphale blinked. He wanted to. He suddenly wanted more than anything to follow Crowley into the room and take off his headwrap and that ridiculous robe and do things. He didn’t even know what exactly. But it involved Crowley’s lips and hair and skin and frankly that was as far as he could think right now.

“What? No!” he said, as Crowley pushed himself away from the doorframe and started to head inside. There was another blast of wind, stronger this time. He couldn’t go in, he couldn’t. If he went in he’d be lost. “It’s fine, I’ll just…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Aziraphale, you can’t stay out there in this, angel or not.” Crowley had his long fingers wrapped around the door, waiting for Aziraphale to enter so he could shut it. He was right. Bugger. He was definitely right. Aziraphale could already see the sand being whipped up by the wind, and storms came on quickly in this region.

He stepped across the threshold and Crowley shut the door behind him.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and stood there, not really knowing what else to do. He was in so much trouble now.

“Drink?” Crowley was saying, apparently oblivious to his struggle. He’d produced a jug of wine and two cups from somewhere and plonked them on low table. Aziraphale tried to get a grip and looked around. They were in a room clearly intended for dining or entertaining. It was clean and lit only by oil lamps now that Crowley had closed both the door and the window shutters. The furniture was simple, a single chest against one wall and a low table set almost in the corner, surrounded by seating cushions. A door on the wall to the right suggested further rooms beyond. It was nicer than Aziraphale had expected.

Crowley poured two cups of wine without waiting for a reply and sat himself down on the far side of the table, lounging back against the wall for support.

Still trying to fight down the urge to do things that he really shouldn’t do, Aziraphale sat gingerly on the cushions against the side wall. Being at right angles to the demon, so he didn’t have to look at him directly, seemed a good idea right now.

He sat straight, unable to relax and picked up his cup, grateful to have something to distract himself.

It was good wine, he had to admit. Aziraphale still hadn’t quite forgiven himself for actually drinking alcohol in the first place, but he’d caved in not long after Crowley had first introduced him to food. He was just thankful the demon hadn’t commented the first time he’d seen him imbibe it, although Aziraphale had noticed him smirking a little, something he’d chose to ignore.

“It’s going to be a bad one,” Crowley commented. He tugged at his head wrap, unwinding it and shaking his hair free now he was indoors. Aziraphale eyed it longingly, the urge to run his hands through it almost overwhelming his fading will power. The demon sometimes braided it down one side when he wore it like this, but he hadn’t today, it just flowed in soft curls over his shoulders, free and tempting, and everything Aziraphale could do with it not being.

To distract himself he unwound his own turban and set the material aside, finally leaning back against the wall and looking up at the ceiling. It seemed a safe place to look whilst he willed his heart to calm down and his blood to stop trying to go places it really shouldn’t be going.

He was an angel, for goodness sake. He wasn’t supposed to be lusting after anyone, much less a demon. He wasn’t supposed to have these feelings at all. He couldn’t act on them. He mustn’t. He just needed to wait out the storm and then leave. Get away from Crowley and his abaya and his beautiful hair and his penetrating eyes, and preferably never see him again. Ever.

Yes, that was it. It would be fine. It would all be fine.

“Look at your hair, angel,” Crowley chuckled, “It looks ridiculous. Here, let me…” He set down his cup and to Aziraphale’s horror reached over and ruffled his fingers through his hair. Aziraphale tried to hide the involuntary noise he’d made behind a cough, but he could tell it hadn’t really worked.

Crowley looked at him oddly. Aziraphale was too busy trying to ignore the way his scalp was tingling everywhere the demon’s fingers had touched. The blood he’d been willing away from certain regions of his body all decided to rush to his cheeks and suddenly he felt very hot. The air in here was stifling.

He wriggled out of his coat and set it aside before he thought that any form of undressing at all probably wasn’t such a good idea.

When he dared to look back at the demon Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“Stripping off for me, angel?” He smirked into his cup and then took a long drink, tipping his head back to drain the last of the wine. Aziraphale watched the curve of his throat and until he realised what he was doing.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered.

“You’re the one who started taking your clothes off, Aziraphale,” Crowley pointed out, still smirking. He poured some more wine, whilst Aziraphale felt his cheeks grow redder.

“It’s hot!” He had tried to sound firm, but it came out shriller than he intended. He thought he was quite possibly losing his mind. Crowley leaned back against the wall again, one leg bent at the knee so he could rest his arm on it. Aziraphale gazed at his long, supple fingers and felt another wave of lust wash through his body.

He turned away quickly, trying to stop his mind imagining what Crowley looked like underneath his clothes, and what Crowley’s skin would feel like under his hands, and what it would be like to kiss that wicked looking mouth.

Why? Why was this happening to him now? Why had he let himself be drawn into this situation?

This was all Crowley’s fault. He was a demon, wasn’t he? Probably he’d dressed himself like that just to tempt Aziraphale into committing yet another sin, just like he’d tempted him into eating human food all those centuries ago. Crowley had told him angels couldn’t be tempted and Aziraphale had been innocent enough to believe him back then, but not anymore. He knew he could be tempted. And he also knew he was soft and weak and had an embarrassing lack of willpower when it came to human indulgences.

“Stop it, Crowley.” The words slipped out of his mouth, without him really thinking about it. He heard the demon chuckle and whipped his head around to glare at him.

“I’m not doing anything, angel.” Crowley leaned forward, resting his chin on the arm propped up by his knee. He smiled knowingly. Far too knowingly.

Aziraphale turned away and wondered how it was even possible for his cheeks to get anymore flushed. At least it was diverting blood away from elsewhere. He couldn’t take this. He had to get out of here, storm or no storm. He got up and walked over to the window, intending to open the shutter and look out.

His hand was halfway there before he realised he was being foolish. The wind was howling now, battering against the wooden shutters, making them rattle and jump. Aziraphale could feel the draft seeping round the edges, enough to make the sleeve of his robe flutter as he stood frozen.

“I hope you aren’t thinking of opening that,” said a voice, right by his ear. Aziraphale jumped and turned to find Crowley standing there, a slight frown on his face, as if he was genuinely worried Aziraphale might be mad enough to go through with it.

“No, of course not.” He snatched his hand back guiltily and twisted his fingers together. Why did Crowley have to stand so close? Aziraphale could smell his scent – like warm spices and fresh earth. The glow from the oil lamps flickered in the demon’s hair, giving the already red locks a warm, lustrous glow, and the draft from the window sent ripples across his robes. He looked ethereal and beautiful and tempting, and everything Aziraphale felt that he personally was not.

He felt his stomach twist.

The demon was just standing and staring at him, a slight frown of confusion still on his face.

“Crowley, what are you doing?” he said, desperately. Crowley’s frown changed to a look of amusement.

“I’m not doing anything, angel, you got into this state all by yourself,” Crowley purred, his smile taking on what Aziraphale thought was a decidedly sinful look.

“I’m going to do something now though,” he said and stepped nearer, slipping one hand onto Aziraphale’s waist. The other slid along his jawline, tilting his head up slightly. All Aziraphale could do was whimper as Crowley leaned down and brought their lips together.

It was a gentle kiss. So gentle it was barely there. Crowley’s lips were soft and surprisingly cool, considering the warmth of his hands, and Aziraphale felt things he could never have imagined possible. His entire body reacted to that simple touch, to the feel of Crowley’s hand on his face and the press of his lips against his mouth. It tingled and thrummed and felt so utterly delightful and so utterly right that Aziraphale forgot he was an angel and that he shouldn’t be doing this at all. Forgot everything except for the glorious rush of pleasure coursing through his body.

He returned the kiss, hesitantly, not really knowing what he was doing, but it seemed he’d got it right anyway, because the moment he responded Crowley pulled him in a little closer and kissed him more deeply.

When the demon finally pulled away Aziraphale whimpered again, mourning the loss of those soft lips, and swaying slightly, feeling almost delirious with sheer delight. Why had he been so worried about this? This was wonderful. And he wanted more. So much more.

When nothing else happened Aziraphale realised he needed to open his eyes. He blinked in the soft light and saw that Crowley was once again just looking at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Crowley?” he said, not really sure what he was going to say, until the demon tilted his head in a way that suggested he was waiting for something. “Do that again.”

Apparently, he didn’t need to be asked twice. Crowley’s lips were on his again in a moment and this time Aziraphale kissed back straight away. Realising he needed to do something with his own hands, he did what he had been wanting to do all along, clutching at Crowley’s slim waist and pulling him forward so that the demon’s body was moulded against his own.

Crowley made a surprised sound into his mouth, but it hadn’t sounded displeased, so Aziraphale didn’t worry about it, concentrating instead on wrapping his arms around Crowley’s back to hold him in place and drinking in more of those wonderful kisses.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley gasped, managing to tear his lips away despite Aziraphale’s best efforts. Aziraphale looked at him muzzily, feeling half drunk on lust. “Aziraphale,” Crowley repeated. He managed to push himself away slightly and Aziraphale found himself blinking at the loss.

“Angel!” Crowley sounded stern and Aziraphale frowned at him.

“What?” he asked, annoyed that Crowley was no longer kissing him.

“What are you doing?” Crowley asked.

“What do you think?” he said.

“I think that if you carry on like this you…” Crowley stopped, shook his head slightly and instead murmured, “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I’m not an idiot, Crowley.” Aziraphale frowned. Why had this got so far off track?

The demon’s hands had found the ends of his sleeves, and Aziraphale felt Crowley’s fingers running up the bare skin of his arms beneath the material. He shuddered and bit his lip, staring at Crowley.

Without warning the demon grabbed his arms and yanked him forward, smacking their bodies together and claiming his lips in a kiss that was much more passionate than any of the previous ones. Aziraphale groaned into his mouth and managed to shake off Crowley’s hands, wrapping his arms around the demon again to pull him closer.

He felt his back hit the wall and realised Crowley had trapped him against it, nipping and sucking at his lips in a way that made Aziraphale’s body cry out for more. He wanted this so badly. More than he’d ever wanted anything.

He reached up and tangled his hands in the demon’s hair, whimpering as he finally got to feel the luscious strands slipping through his fingers. They were softer than silk, softer even than Aziraphale had imagined.

“You have no idea how long I have waited to do this, angel.” Crowley breathed the words into his ear, so softly that Aziraphale could barely make them out. He vaguely wondered if he was supposed to reply, but mostly he just tried not to let his knees give way as Crowley ran his lips down his neck.

“Come with me,” Crowley demanded suddenly, pulling away and holding out his hand. Aziraphale was too far gone now to do anything but take it and let Crowley pull him through the door. They passed through a room and into one beyond. There was a bed on the floor, and a good deal of sand under the window where the shutter had blown open. Aziraphale barely noticed it, he was too busy watching the wind catch Crowley’s robes and pull them taut against his body.

“Why do you look so good in women’s clothing?” he muttered, feeling that it was very unfair. Crowley snapped his fingers and the shutter banged closed; the abaya settled back around his legs.

“I’m not actually a man, angel.” Crowley looked amused.

“Not the point,” said Aziraphale, “You’re in a man’s body. Well, a man shaped body. The body of a male human…” he trailed off, slightly confused about what his actual point was.

“I just look good in anything, angel,” Crowley said. He had that wicked smirk on his face again. Aziraphale found himself wanting to kiss it right off his lips.

Crowley beat him to it, grabbing him again and kissing him with an enthusiasm that surprised Aziraphale. He hadn’t expected the demon to be so willing or eager to indulge in this, at least not with him.

Aziraphale wanted more. He finally managed to get his hands to the tie at Crowley’s waist and tugged it loose. It fell away easily, but didn’t really help Aziraphale reach his goal, which was to get Crowley naked, right now, and find out exactly how soft the demon’s skin was.

“Stupid robes,” Crowley muttered. His lips had travelled to Aziraphale’s jawline again and the angel felt him press down on his shoulders. It took him a moment to realise what Crowley wanted, but when he did he dropped to his knees, and the demon followed him down, pressing him back onto the thin mattress and crawling over him to resume the kisses.

Aziraphale sighed in pleasure as he felt Crowley settle on top of him, though he was forced to thread his fingers into Crowley’s hair, holding it back from their faces as they kissed. After a moment, he felt something change under his fingers and opened his eyes in surprise to see Crowley’s hair winding into the tight curls he’d had on the walls of Eden, the style staying put better without Aziraphale’s help.

Crowley had pulled away slightly to look at him, and Aziraphale tried not to let how much he liked this particular hairstyle show in his expression. Judging by Crowley’s smirk he was unsuccessful. Aziraphale swallowed and ran his fingers through the curls, scrapping his nails lightly over Crowley’s scalp. To his surprise he heard the demon’s breath catch and a moment later he muttered, “Stupid robes,” again and Aziraphale found that he was unexpectedly, and rather suddenly, naked.

He felt his cheeks colour, but he didn’t really have time to be embarrassed because Crowley pounced on him and suddenly it seemed like the demon’s hands and lips were everywhere all at once. He covered Aziraphale in kisses, his tongue flicking out over sensitive spots that Aziraphale hadn’t even known he had until this moment, and all the while his hands were moving, smoothing over Aziraphale’s skin as if he wanted to memorise every last inch of his body.

Aziraphale had never felt anything like it. He would have felt nervous about the intense scrutiny had there been any room in his head for the thought, but there wasn’t. His skin felt like it was on fire, every nerve in his body trying to send a message at once to say how bloody wonderful this all felt and how utterly amazing this all was and all he could do was moan and squirm and hope that this never ended.

Eventually Crowley reached his hips and paused and Aziraphale realised he was looking at his cock, hard and aching in a way Aziraphale had never felt before. He’d known how the whole thing worked in principle, but he’d never actually experienced anything like this. Dimly he wondered if he was supposed to do something, and that was quickly followed by wondering if he should be embarrassed.

Then Crowley licked up the length of his shaft and all thoughts disappeared. Aziraphale yelped and his body curved off the mattress and stars exploded in front of his eyes. He fell back onto the cushions and managed to clear his vision enough to see Crowley looking up at him in amusement, which meant it was a good job there was still no room in his head for embarrassment, because how had he not known it felt like that?

Crowley licked him again and again, and then with a low hum of pleasure, took the head of Aziraphale’s cock in his mouth. Aziraphale thought he’d lost his mind earlier, but it was nothing compared to this. He writhed under Crowley’s attentions, panting and squirming, and clutching first at the blankets beneath him and then at Crowley’s hair, twisting the curls around his fingers in a way that was probably painful, although he didn’t have any sense left to care.

“Crowley,” he panted, finally managing to get the demon’s name out. It was good. It was so good. There was heat and longing and a pleasurable sort of pressure building in his stomach, and he needed release, but what he needed even more than that was Crowley.

“Crowley,” he said again when the demon didn’t react. He tugged on his hair, and Crowley let his lips slide over the tip of Aziraphale’s cock and looked up at him.

“Crowley,” he gasped, and tugged again. He seemed to have lost the ability to say anything but the demon’s name, but it seemed Crowley understood what he needed because he crawled back up over him and captured his lips in another kiss.

Aziraphale sighed in pleasure and wrapped his arms around the demon, pulling him close as he kissed him. He realised Crowley was still wearing his robes and tugged impatiently, but ineffectively, at them.

“This hardly seems fair, my dear,” he muttered against Crowley’s lips, when his pulling completely failed to get him anywhere.

“Hmm?” Crowley didn’t seem pleased at having the kisses interrupted but Aziraphale tugged again and suddenly Crowley pulled away, so he was hanging over Aziraphale and the robes dissolved beneath Aziraphale’s fingers. He blinked and then decided he didn’t really care how Crowley had done that.

Finally. Finally, he was going to find out exactly what Crowley’s skin felt like. He reached out almost reverently and ran his hands over Crowley’s shoulders.

Oh, it was soft. So very soft, and warm. He ran his hands down Crowley’s back and up his sides, sliding his palms over his chest and back to his shoulders. This was better than he had expected, he swept his hands over the skin again, trailing his fingers down as far as Crowley’s thighs and back up again over and over, savouring every inch of the demon’s body.

At last he dared to let his hands sweep around Crowley’s hips. He wanted to know what it felt like to touch him there, wondering if it would be as good for the demon as it was for him. He let his hand drift in that direction and then suddenly found his wrist being gripped tightly, Crowley’s fingers stopping him in his tracks.

He gasped and looked up towards Crowley’s face. The demon was still hanging over him and there was a fiercely intense look in his eyes.

“You’d better be sure before you do that, Aziraphale,” said Crowley, his voice quiet, yet serious, as if this was something hugely important, “Because if you do then there is no going back.”

Afterwards, whenever he remembered the look on the demon’s face as he said those words, Aziraphale could have wept. Because Crowley in that moment looked so vulnerable and yet so determined, exercising a level of self-control that Aziraphale was clearly not capable of. It was, ever afterwards, the moment when Aziraphale thought he had begun to properly fall in love with Crowley.

He thought none of that now though. Instead he whimpered, “Yes, yes Crowley,” and groaned in relief as the demon released his hand and let him continue to trace his way over his hips.

Slowly Aziraphale skated his hand across and let his fingers run lightly up Crowley’s cock, marvelling at its warmth and smoothness. He ran his hand over it again, intrigued by the feeling and Crowley let out a low hum of pleasure. Emboldened by the reaction Aziraphale wrapped his fingers around the shaft and ran his hand up to the head. He had no idea what he was doing and he didn’t dare to squeeze too hard, but Crowley shuddered and his eyes dropped closed, so he thought he’d at least done something right. He did it a second time, with slightly more pressure and Crowley hissed through his teeth.

It was too much. The way Crowley was reacting was sending waves of lust through Aziraphale’s body and he wanted, needed to feel all that glorious soft skin pressed against his. He grabbed Crowley’s hips, tugging him down and to his relief Crowley came willingly, sliding down on top of him and pressing into him.

Aziraphale let out a cry of pleasure as their bodies finally met – it was soft and warm and smooth and so much more than Aziraphale had expected. He found Crowley’s lips and kissed him again, trying to relieve some of the feelings swirling through his mind.

Crowley adjusted himself to a better angle for the kiss and Aziraphale groaned into his mouth. Crowley’s cock was pressed up against his stomach and he felt it move against him and it was so erotic that Aziraphale could hardly stand it.

He wanted this so badly. He didn’t even know what he wanted, just that he wanted something and that he needed to release the flood of desire that was threatening to overwhelm him completely.

Whimpering desperately, Aziraphale pulled away from the kisses and looked at Crowley, wanting to say something but unable to find the words in the mess his mind had become. The demon regarded him for a moment and then said,

“Aziraphale, do you…? can I…?”

“Yes, yes. Please,” Aziraphale gasped, before Crowley could finish. He had no idea what he was saying yes to. Just yes to something, anything the demon wanted to do to him. He had a terrible urge to wrap his hand around his own cock and touch himself until he found some release, but he knew that wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Crowley had sat up now and was kneeling between Aziraphale’s legs. He’d pushed them apart and Aziraphale was vaguely aware that he’d done a miracle of some sort, though he had no idea what for. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on and then snapped it shut again when Crowley leaned forward on one hand and pressed a finger of the other into Aziraphale’s body.

He cried out in shock, the muscles of his stomach tensing, making him half sit up in sheer astonishment. Crowley looked at him, tipped himself back onto his knees and placed the hand he’d been leaning on against Aziraphale’s stomach.

“Shh, I won’t hurt you, angel,” he murmured. He sounded gentle, in a way Aziraphale had never heard Crowley sound before, and he flopped back onto the bedding, partly out of sheer astonishment. Crowley apparently took this as permission to carry on with whatever he was doing because he withdrew the finger slightly and pressed it back in.

It felt strange, not painful, but so very odd that Aziraphale temporarily forgot the desire he had been feeling and instead found himself frowning at the ceiling and squirming against the intrusion.

“Relax, angel.” Crowley was leaning over him again, and this time he bent forward and started dropping kisses across Aziraphale’s chest. Aziraphale gasped and felt Crowley press a second finger inside.

“Relax,” Crowley murmured again, lips still against his skin, and Aziraphale did his best. He realised now what Crowley was intending to do next and why he needed him to relax. Forcing himself to breathe he summoned up as much control of his body as he had remaining and forced himself to relax as much as he could. He wasn’t very good at controlling his human body, he’d never properly got the hang of it, but Crowley hissed in satisfaction and pushed his long fingers in further, twisting and wriggling them until without warning Aziraphale felt a spike of pleasure shoot through his body.

He yelped, his hips lifting off the bed as he chased Crowley’s fingers, trying to get more of that glorious pleasure. The lust that had receded came rushing back and he clutched at the blankets, trying to anchor himself to something so he didn’t get swept away entirely.

“Yesss, angel,” Crowley hissed, his lips still wandering over Aziraphale’s skin. He twisted his fingers again, drawing another moan from Aziraphale.

“Crowley, please,” he gasped. He knew what he was asking for now, and he wanted it. Wanted something more, something to increase the pleasure to new heights so he could lose himself entirely in this moment.

With a groan Crowley slipped his fingers out and pushed on Aziraphale’s legs. In Aziraphale’s opinion he took far too long getting himself into position and pushing Aziraphale’s legs exactly where he wanted them, but then finally he seemed satisfied and pressed the head of his cock into Aziraphale’s waiting body, letting out another groan as he did.

The feeling of being stretched almost overwhelmed Aziraphale. He felt himself go hot and cold at the same time and he pressed his lips together, closing his eyes as he felt his muscles tense automatically.

“Breathe,” he heard Crowley say, and he gasped for air as he realised he’d stopped breathing altogether. Immediately his body started to relax, helped by Crowley running his hands up and down his torso, skating lightly over his cock and reminding Aziraphale of his desperately needed release.

He managed to get himself back under control and relaxed enough that Crowley decided he could push in further. Aziraphale concentrated on letting him, forgetting everything else until suddenly a wave of pleasure unexpectedly rolled through his body, contracting all the muscles in his stomach and making his breath catch.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped, the word slipping out before he could stop it. Crowley paused and raised an eyebrow at him, smirking wickedly, as if he’d just done a very good trick indeed.

“Really, angel?” he chuckled. Aziraphale couldn’t really have cared less if he was honest. He needed Crowley to do whatever he’d just done again.

“Crowley!” he complained, arching his neck and attempting to push his hips down towards the demon.

Luckily Crowley seemed to understand and didn’t seem inclined to tease, because he grabbed Aziraphale’s hips and started to move slowly against him, pulling his cock out a little way each time before pushing back in and sending another rolling wave of pleasure through Aziraphale’s entire being.

He kept going and Aziraphale could do nothing but squirm and pant and stare up at Crowley, who was so beautiful and so wonderful that Aziraphale wondered why they hadn’t done this before.

It was so unlike anything he had ever imagined. And he had imagined. Because he’d been on earth among humans a long time, and he had an imagination, and he was curious and intelligent, and he thought about things until he felt he understood them. But he’d been so wrong about this. He’d known it must feel nice, because humans seemed to indulge in it for pleasure, but never could he have ever expected that it would feel like this, that the pleasure would be so all consuming and so very intense. And he’d always thought it was an animalistic act, something purely driven by lust and sinful desire, nothing more than that. Now though he realised it was so much more. There was lust, and so much desire he felt like he was going to go mad with it, but there was also warmth and longing and connection, and so many strange new feelings that Aziraphale couldn’t possibly ever describe them.

“Crowley,” he whispered, not even aware he was going to say the demon’s name until it had left his lips. Crowley, who had up to now mostly been looking down at where their bodies were joined, snapped his eyes up to look at Aziraphale’s face and Aziraphale saw, reflected in those impossible yellow eyes, the same lust and desire that he was feeling. Seeing that look on Crowley drew another whimper from his lips.

“Look at you, angel,” Crowley murmured, tilting forward and running a hand over his chest. And Aziraphale, who knew there was no chance he looked even half as good as Crowley did right now, wondered about that. But he didn’t wonder for very long because Crowley thrust inside him again, harder than before and Aziraphale’s whole body convulsed with pleasure.

Crowley did it again, and Aziraphale groaned and bit his lip, staring up at Crowley with wide eyes, unable to believe that it was possible for his body to feel this much pleasure. It was so intense and so wonderful, and Aziraphale never wanted it to end.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley groaned. It sounded like he was complaining about something, but the look on his face suggested otherwise and Aziraphale was too far gone now to give it more than a passing thought. He writhed his hips and Crowley started to thrust into him harder, each stroke sending jolts of pleasure through Aziraphale until the whole thing blurred into one continuous wave, consuming his whole body and scattering his thoughts.

“Oh fuck,” he swore for the second time in his entire existence. Pressure built inside him, almost painful in its intensity.

“Crowley, yes, please, I…” He squeezed his eyes shut. It was too much; it was all too much. Surely a human body couldn’t take this? Surely he was going to die or discorporate or something? Surely nothing was ever supposed to feel this good?

He was vaguely aware that Crowley was saying his name, but he couldn’t focus, couldn’t do anything except surrender to what was happening.

Without warning something inside him snapped and the pressure released, flooding his body with such all-consuming ecstacy that he felt every muscle contract and every nerve light up, and his head swam and his vision blurred and he wanted to cry out, but he couldn’t even breathe let alone make a sound. His body arched off the bed and he was vaguely aware of Crowley crying out and wrapping his arms around his hips, and the feeling of Crowley’s cock pulsing inside his body.

It seemed to last for an eternity, wave after wave of pleasure surging through him, and then, all too soon it was over, and Aziraphale gasped for air, opening his eyes to see Crowley leaning over him, panting and flushed and looking both astonished and also very pleased with himself.

Aziraphale grabbed him and kissed him, with no idea why he thought that was a good idea or why he still wanted to so badly. He kissed him until his scattered senses returned and his thoughts screamed at him with questions about what he had just done, and forced him to finally pull away, still gasping for air.

Feeling rather embarrassed and unable to look Crowley in the eyes Aziraphale gazed past his head towards the ceiling.

“Oh,” he said quietly. He fished around desperately for something better to say than his first instinct, but when nothing occurred to him, followed it up with, “Fuck.”

Crowley laughed.

“You know how to swear,” he said, sounding incredibly amused by the whole thing. He was still hanging over Aziraphale, although he’d slid down onto his elbows to allow him to bring his lips close to Aziraphale’s ear. “I made you swear, Aziraphale,” he murmured and this time he sounded rather smug about it.

“No, you didn’t, I didn’t,” said Aziraphale frantically, which was such a ridiculous lie that he winced as soon as he had said it. He stared desperately at the ceiling, wondering how the hell he’d managed to do so many unangelic things in such a short space of time.

“Yes you did,” chuckled Crowley into his ear, “And this was a rather unexpected way to spend the evening.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to say that he hadn’t meant or wanted it to happen, but snapped it shut when he realised that would just be another terrible lie.

Crowley wriggled around on top of him, freeing one hand so he could gesture, and Aziraphale felt the stickiness that he’d been vaguely aware was coating quite a lot of his body, vanish away.

Aziraphale fished around for something appropriate to say. What were you supposed to say when you were an angel who’d followed a demon home and then acted in such a sinful way? It wasn’t even as if Crowley had tempted him into it, not really.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually. It seemed like the only sensible thing to say.

Crowley looked at him like he’d gone insane.

“I didn’t say it was a bad way to spend the evening, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale frowned. That hadn’t been what he’d meant at all. Crowley smiled and the expression looked genuinely affectionate, as if Aziraphale was something rather wonderful, rather than a terrible angel with no self-control.

“Get out of your head, angel,” Crowley said, chuckling again. It was such an unexpected thing for him to say that Aziraphale blinked in surprise. He wanted to say something back, but Crowley was wriggling around again and not paying much attention, and besides Aziraphale had no idea what to say. Already Crowley had slid off him so that he was lying on his side next to him and a few moments later Aziraphale felt a blanket being pulled over them both.

“What are you doing?” he asked, somewhat panicked.

“Going to sleep,” Crowley told him, “And this is the only bed so if you want to sleep you’ll have to do it here. You can’t leave.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to object to that and say he most certainly could, but then he heard the wind still howling outside and realised what Crowley meant. It wasn’t even like he could miracle himself away – he didn’t know the town well enough to miracle himself anywhere indoors and there was too much risk he’d inadvertently pop up in front of a human.

He turned his head to look at Crowley, wondering whether he was supposed to say something, or do something – not that he would have known what. To his surprise Crowley smiled at him and reached out to run a hand through his hair.

“You’re full of surprises, angel,” he murmured, whilst Aziraphale did his best to suppress a shudder at the little tingles of pleasure racing over his scalp. Crowley smiled again and withdrew his hand, shutting his eyes and apparently letting himself instantly drift off to sleep.

Aziraphale gazed at him a few minutes, watching the way the flicking light from the lamps played over his curls and the way the demon’s face softened as he slept, and the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed, and how his hair fell across his shoulders, shocking red steaks contrasting with the pale smoothness of his skin. He was, and always had been, ridiculously beautiful and Aziraphale had the sudden sense that tonight had been inevitable, that it had only been a matter of time before his fragile willpower had cracked in the face of such utter perfection.

With that thought swirling in his mind Aziraphale miracled the oil lamps to stop them burning, plunging the room into darkness. As an angel he didn’t need sleep, but right now he thought that sleep would be the best escape. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the darkness, leaving all his confused thoughts about this situation for the morning.

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

Aziraphale opened his eyes the next morning to find that it was already full daylight and the storm had passed. The sun streamed in at the now open shutters and as Aziraphale’s eyes adjusted he realised Crowley was standing beside the window, staring outside, already fully dressed in the same abaya he’d been wearing the day before. The breeze tugged at his headwrap and ruffled through his hair. He was beautiful Aziraphale realised all over again. A perfect vision bathed in the golden light of a new day.

He half smiled to himself before it occurred to him that he had no idea what to do next. Was he supposed to say something? Was he supposed to leave? Were they supposed to talk about what had happened? And why had it happened anyway? He still had no idea what Crowley’s motivation had been, and that was the thing that frightened him the most.

He had obviously made a noise because Crowley turned, and seeing he was awake came over, walking around the sleeping mat to sit cross legged beside him and lean against the wall. Not really knowing what else to do, Aziraphale gave him a hesitant smile, hoping Crowley would speak first.

“I’ve got to go,” Crowley said softly.

“What? Where?” Aziraphale was suddenly alert, he half sat up, propping himself on his elbow.

“Athens,” Crowley wasn’t meeting his gaze, instead he was looking out the window, a rather speculative look on his face.

“Oh,” was all Aziraphale could think to say.

“Are you staying around here?” Crowley asked. His eyes flicked over to Aziraphale, and then back over to the window, as if he was trying to avoid looking at him. Aziraphale wondered why. Was he regretting what they had done?

“Um, yes.” Aziraphale still had no idea what he was supposed to do or say. What did humans do in these situations? Aziraphale had no experience of this.

“I’ve got to stay for a while,” he added, when something more seemed to be expected of him. “Big things happening... Apparently.” He was trying to keep his tone light. Trying not to let his voice tremble and betray him.

“You can use the house,” Crowley offered. Aziraphale just looked at him. There didn’t seem to be much else to say. “I won’t be needing it for a while. Maybe not ever again. Who knows?” The demon gave a wan smile and a little half shrug and finally looked at Aziraphale.

“I’ll see you around, I guess.” He looked sad, Aziraphale realised, and uncertain. Some of his usual poise had vanished. Aziraphale tried to think of something to say.

“Thank you,” he said, in the end, rather foolishly, “For, um…” He gestured vaguely at the ceiling and walls, hoping Crowley would know what he meant. Crowley raised his eyebrows, and then his face softened into a smile. He leaned forward and to Aziraphale’s astonishment pressed his lips to his forehead in a kiss. He lingered longer than he really needed to, curling his fingers in Aziraphale’s hair, before he pulled away.

“Goodbye, angel,” he said.

He clicked his fingers and was gone.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fandom #ineffable fandom #crowley #aziraphale #my fic #fanfic #chapter 1 #all the pieces of you #aziraphale loves crowley #crowley loves aziraphale

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bringbacktim · 1 year

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idk if u saw my req abt fairy!reader but im feeding into that idea 😜

hes doing a vlog where hes in the forest, camping- not without making manyyy logan paul jokes. when he wakes up, hes in an unfamiliar den, filled with flowers and mushrooms "oh! you are up!" says a silky voice- he turns his head to his abductor.. the most gorgeous woman hes ever seen, silky hair, abnormal skin color, wings, and clothing made of leaves.

thats all i can write because im not as talented as u but i tried! i hope you can fill in the blanks :3

She bangs like a fairy

This was such a challenge, but it was so fun to write something completely different

I honestly have no idea how to write an x fairy reader, but I tried my best so I hope this is what you hoped it would be like

Credits to you cause I basically quoted what you wrote

Synopsis:she bangs like a fairy on acid by elita

Wc:686 words

Not edited or proofread

In the forest, there's a fairy

Admittedly he didn't know yet that there was anything else in the forest with him

He was just doing a camping vlog , he thought he was alone because there had been no audible reactions to any Logan paul jokes he had made

She waits for me

Technically she waited until nightfall so no one would notice a pink woman with wings that strictly wore leaves and petals as clothing

She tells me if I hurry

My dreams will come true

Obviously she didn't directly contact to him and speak, but did start to make the lavender grow where he was to hopefully lull him to into a deep slumber

I guess there's nothing I can do

"Sorry for the short first day, I'm just so tired tonight" he said getting ready in his tent to go to sleep for the night

But listen to the fairy in the forest

When he woke he was in an unfamiliar den filled with filled with bright beautiful flowers and mushrooms

"Oh good , you're awake" the abductress said in a silky smooth angelic voice

As he turned his head to where the voice came from , his eyes met with the most beautiful creature he's ever seen : long flowing hair, the perfect shade of pink skin, the most incredible wings that looked like an intricate stained glass window, and clothes made from leaves and petals

She tells me that she wants it

It was more a show less of a tell as she looked at him with such hunger and desire in her eyes as she flew over to him

So I started to kiss her lips

He stood up and closed the gap between them , not caring if this was real or a dream . He was having the time of his life either way

Milk and honey drips

He swore there was milk and honey dripping from somewhere and it heroine wishes it was as strong and addictive

We're naked on the ground

Both of them were laying on the ground of this den , breathless covered in a leaf blanket shocked and happy at the love they must made

The creatures gather round

Soon all of these fairest , pixies , and a galore of mythical creatures started to enter the den and just go about their day, not without questioning who this new creature was doing on the floor first

A mushroom to my right

I smile and take a bite

Everything was so hypnotic and he never wanted to leave and go back to streaming minecraft

Petals melt off her skin

My head, it starts to spin

Spin in a good way , like when you're so in love with someone or something that it all gets a bit too much and you feel dizzy

A mushroom to my right

I smile and take a bite

This forest was enchanting and he never wanted to leave

In the forest, there's a fairy

She waits for me

"I'll be here if you ever want to come back" she told him secretly hoping he wouldn't leave

She tells me if I hurry

My dreams will come true

She promised him as he got re dressed that if he stayed even one more day they wouldn't leave the bed and he would probably never sleep with anyone ever again

I guess there's nothing I can do

It was a pretty easy decision

But listen to the fairy in the forest

She tells me that she wants it

"I want you and I want this forever"she said kissing him so forcefully he fell back onto the makeshift bed on the ground

So I started to kiss her lips

Milk and honey drips

As he started to kiss back he let the addictiveness (is that even a word) of her kiss surround him

I guess there's nothing I can do

He continued kissing her not caring about his old life

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barmadumet · 2 years

Note

Pleas tell me about your PW AU!

WIP GAME

Omg not this one 🤭 Actually, I think you knew about this! Random idea for a Pretty Woman AU that came to me while watching the movie back in June. It strayed from the movie plot quite a bit, though. I had lots of ideas and wrote about 3k words one night, but never went back . . .Basically Anakin is a stripper (giggle), and one night he is leaving a bachelorette party dressed in a doctor costume. An intoxicated woman from the party follows him to the bus stop (heck, I would), and starts aggressively hitting on him. Obi-Wan has worked late at the Intergalactic Bank, and as he’s going to his car, he sees Anakin having a difficult time trying to politely dismiss the woman. HE ASSUMES ANAKIN IS A REAL DOCTOR, and goes over to help. He claims there is an injured bar patron down the street that needs medical attention, hoping to pull Anakin out of the bad situation. Ironically, a friend of the woman comes to intercept about the same time, keeping her from revealing that Anakin is not a real doctor. The two are left alone, and Anakin has missed the bus by this point, so he’s offered a ride home. Anakin doesn’t live in the city, so he declines…. And then the normally reserved and careful banker does something completely out of character and invites the intriguing young man to stay with him for the night; he’ll take him home in the morning when it’s not so late to make the long journey.

Being the kind, sweet, brought-up-in-the-church boy he is, Anakin doesn’t want to be dishonest and tells Obi-Wan that he’s not a doctor almost right away. Now, Obi-Wan is silently panicking that he has a stripper in his car, but there’s no going back. But as Anakin gives him the short version of his difficult path, he can immediately see his goodness. He learns Anakin puts every penny he earns into fixing up a very modest home he owns in the suburbs that is in desperate need of repair. He has no family left and all he wants is to have a place that feels like a home - a sanctuary - a place to call his own. Ultimately, something will happen that makes the house inhabitable, and who do you think will offer the spare room in his city apartment indefinitely?

Cute, fun, and dramatic stuff would happen like Anakin falls in love with Obi-Wan’s cat (because he loves animals but can’t afford a pet). Obi-Wan will take Anakin to a work party as a “date.” Obi-Wan will open up about his estranged family who don’t agree with his life choices. Anakin's strong faith and positive outlook despite all he's been through in his short life, help Obi-Wan learn how to find joy through his own struggles.

I have NEVER been interested in AU until this idea randomly popped in my head. My philosophy was always if they aren't Jedi, I'm not interested. I honestly don't know how I became one of those obikins that can't watch a non Star Wars movie without thinking about an AU 😂 Shorty after beginning this work, I stumbled upon an AU called You're My Home by @stanakin96 and probably wouldn't have read it prior to this, and I'm so glad I did. So now I tag them for this game!

And thanks again for tagging me @justaminion ❤️And thank you for the ask!

#obikin #pretty woman au #sort of #obikin au #wip ask game #now you know!

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hippolotamus · 2 years

Text

Fanfic Origin Story

tagged by @blackandwhiteandrose @stereopticons @jesuisici33 Thank you, friends 🥰

What was your first fandom (reading and/or writing)?

For reading: Gilmore Girls. I was so WTF over the ending to A Year in the Life, I needed something. Schitt's Creek was the first fandom I wrote for.

What was the first story you ever wrote (even if it was never posted) and what made you decide to write it?

TBH I don't remember much of anything I wrote before AO3 and I'm not sure I want to??? So for this, I'll go with How will I know? This fic came about because I had this idea in my head that wouldn't leave me alone. It started out as looking at the lyrics of that song (how will i know?) from David's POV in regards to his relationships with Sebastien and Patrick. But then, as fics do, it took on a life of its own and became what was published.

What’s a piece of advice you would give to your younger fic-writing self?

You don't know it yet, but this is gonna be some of the best therapy you've ever experienced in your life. The things it's going to teach you - about yourself, about others - and the life experiences it's going to help you through, is going to blow your mind.

What’s an early fandom interaction that stuck with you (be it a nice comment, a friend you made, a fic that got a lot of feedback etc.)?

There are seriously soooo many moments that have made me go 'ahhhh! this is soooo cool!'. A few that stick out: 'I'm an admin for a small Discord server. I can send you an invite if that's something you're into.' / 'Let me know if you want to brainstorm. Maybe we can piece together some ideas to help both of us out?' / The first time someone took me up on my offer to come yell at me on Tumblr. It was for Warm Hellos and Our Last Goodnights and just made my day. But especially that time @patrckbrewer wrote a follow up to let the rain sing you a lullaby and made me cry.

Post a sentence or two from one of your older fics, and a sentence or two from a newer one (if you want).

I did more than 1-2 lines. Raise your hand if you're shocked.

Older Fic: He had spent the better part of three decades playing by the rules and sorting his life into neat little boxes. Only when he was willing to stop playing by his self-imposed rules did he discover everything in life that finally made sense to him. By dropping the pretenses of keeping up an image that no longer fit, he had gained everything.

Newer Fic: “I didn’t know how to put words to it – this feeling – to define what it is. I’m not sure I know any better now, either. The thing is,” Eddie continues, “when I’m with you, I’m safe. When we’re out with Chris, holding hands and just… being together, it’s ordinary in the best fucking way. The three of us being a family is easier than breathing. There’s nothing to think about, it makes sense. I don’t feel any different. I’m not any different. I’m still me and yet with my parents I’m… not me? Like I’m continually locking a piece of myself away for their benefit and holding my breath until they’re gone. Does that make sense?”

I'm behind on this, and I don't know who went, but I'm tagging @shortsighted-owl @alyxmastershipper @sarahlevys @vanillahigh00 @ajunerose @fatedbuck and anyone else who wants to play 💙

#tag games #fic origin story #💙🦛#seems my themes haven't changed much

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lenna-z · 1 year

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Hi! This is the second part of The Thing Between Them. I wasn't even thinking of continuing this when I wrote the first chapter, but I hope you like it anyway!

I have a fic that I just published and left the first episode here and that continues in my drafts and excites me. Even though my brain wants to go in a regular order, unfortunately my muse doesn't have a proper order.

I just followed my muse...

I have two more chapters in mind to continue this maybe some action and whump... I'd love to know if you're interested, but this idea just came to my mind so I don't know if I'm going to continue, so... yeah.

I hope you will like it!

Part 1 is here.

Silent Promise

Kay was asleep in his arms. Her head was resting on his shoulder, in the crook of his neck, and she looked very peaceful.

It was very in tune with this moment. When it was just Kay and him, it was so peaceful that he never wanted to leave.

Sometimes he couldn't believe how lucky he was.

If they had told Virgil six months ago that she would be in a serious relationship, she wouldn't have believed it. Now when he looked at the woman sleeping on his chest- he was really lucky.

And Virgil hadn't been able to sleep for the past six months, and especially today as he thought about how lucky he was.

Kay didn't believe him, but he really couldn't sleep. He almost lost her...how could he sleep?

At some point in the rescue, everyone in the house was focused on the holo-table. It had taken her a while to reply to John, and in those few seconds Virgil's world had stopped spinning.

There was an emptiness in his heart that he couldn't describe, and at that moment he really- really thought he had lost her.

Morning he had seen her for the first time in two days, when she wasn't a hologram, and he hadn't had a chance to say goodbye to her as she left.

This was probably the reason for the emotional intensity before going to bed.

Virgil had never insisted on telling the others what was between them. Both had reservations, but Kay- she always held herself back.

There were many reasons why she didn't want to; normal reasons, like growing up like a sibling, or reasons that worry him, like she doesn't think she deserves this or him.

They had outgrown most of them, and Kay didn't talk about the topic of their brothers learning about them as often as before.

Only the words when he woke up to go to his room before the others woke up on the nights he stayed in her room brought up the subject.

It was impossible to get out of bed, let alone leave the room, without waking Kay, and she would come to Virgil's room because she knew he didn't like it.

He didn't want it to be just his decision to tell the others, they could wait until Kay was ready to say it, and Virgil said it often.

And some nights he would show how much he loved her.

Still, Kay would blame herself, even if she didn't show it. When Virgil managed to seep through the cracks in her walls, this feature of her hit him like a second wall.

She had once gone so far as to say that he deserved much better than a relationship behind locked doors, and it took some time for Virgil to convince Kay that he respected her choices.

They had each other. And knowing that was enough for him, so it didn't matter who knew or not.

And already some people in the house knew the thing between them, no matter how careful they were.

Kay had once said she suspected Grandma knew about them, and John knew them, they were sure of it.

Everyone knew how hard it was to keep secrets from John, but Virgil couldn't help wondering how long he had known.

When Kay went on a mission or to the rescue and something went wrong, he would always meet John's eyes in the hologram.

And every time he would answer the question that was on the tip of his tongue but stuck in his throat.

"She is fine."

And if something did happen, he would somehow let him know.

Whether Virgil was alone or not, he would let him know, and he was grateful to his brother for that.

But today he almost lost her.

He might not see his favorite color eyes again, he might never be able to kiss the owner of the smile that brightened his day...

And Kay still thought of his birthday, which he hadn't thought of for hours.

She blamed herself again, and he was sure that she wasn't just apologizing for his birthday. Because after that she said she wanted to tell them about their relationship.

Before telling everyone, Virgil wanted to make sure she wanted it because she really wanted it, not because she blamed herself.

She said this for him, he knew this because he knew Kay.

She might not have slept for hours, had gone on missions in a row, or even came back from the dead, yet she thought of herself last.

Everyone in this family was like that but Kay was living her feelings behind her walls so...

Kay deserved much better.

And he was lucky because somehow she thought the same about him.

God, he loved her.

And of course this peaceful moment had to be interrupted...

Light began to shine from the edge of the night lamps on either side of the bed.

It was a green light, not a white light, so he was being summoned, not Kay.

Thank God...

She had only been asleep for two hours.

He didn't want to wake her but-

"Every day. Every day we can lose each other..."

And she would probably wake up when he moved anyway.

He ran his hand softly on her cheek. "Kay?... Hey, love, I have to go."

Her breathing suddenly changed and she snuggled deeper into his neck. "Can't you stay a little longer?"

He wanted nothing more than to stay.

"Honey, look at the lamps," He kissed her while stroking her hair. "If I stay here any longer, John will find out about us officially."

"We had already decided to tell them."

And she bent even more towards him.

"And John already knows." A pause. "We should buy a present to thank John."

This was adjustable.

"Yeah, we can arrange this."

Just to wake her up, she lifted her upper body a little and placed soft kiss on her forehead and then her cheek.

His attempts seemed to have failed, as her delicate hands slid further down his waist.

He was leaning forward a little to return the hug, but Kay had chosen that moment to turn towards him.

Everything was too fast and too slow at the same time, which was technically impossible.

One breath and the distance between their faces closed.

His lower lip was between soft lips and- his brain short-circuited...

A hand settled on his cheek, the kiss deepened even more... And Virgil couldn't think.

When she leaves to take a breath and gently presses her forehead to his, he was still trying to gather his foggy brain.

When her other hand finds his cheek and their lips meet quickly, Virgil was ready to take this further.

It wasn't that Kay would let him, because he was being called to the rescue-

Oh.

Rescue.

Teeth were touching his lips and his brain was sending signals that numbed his lips. Or maybe it was just because he was too sensitive to Kay's touch.

He really couldn't think straight and-

Her tongue was moving...

God, Kay...

And her lips parted from his.

They were both out of breath, and Kay was fully awake. Even in dim light, her pupils could be seen dilating.

"Virgil..." She was still out of breath. And her voice was a bit far from normal. "God... I love you."

If she only knew what she was doing to him...

And he had used all his will to place a kiss on her forehead instead of her lips. "I love you."

She put her head back on his chest and in that moment it was just them. They were in a peaceful moment again, and Virgil could stay here forever.

"Love... you should go."

Yeah he should...

His brain was still foggy and he clearly couldn't shake off the impact of the- that moment.

"I love you, Kay."

She was smiling. So of course she knew what she was doing to him.

"And, love you too. Virgil, you-"

"Yeah, I am going."

And finally he made a move to get out of bed.

He was nearing the door when he noticed Kay getting up too.

"You should keep sleeping, love."

He was sure she was rolling her eyes, but she couldn't see her beautiful face because of the dim light behind her.

"Says the man who waited for me for hours."

A few steps later she was next to him and she kissed his cheek and then handed him a box.

"You get the chance to open it at 2, so I hope. I don't want to give this to you any later."

A gift?

Oh. For his birthday.

"Kay-"

"And please be careful." A pause. "You must go now, John may know but he still doesn't know officially so..."

"Yeah."

"Virgil-" he silenced her with a kiss, he knew what she was going to say.

Her arms were wrapped around his neck just like before they went to bed, and he slid his hands down to her waist, pulling her towards him.

And now he had to go.

Even though he had to leave her, she was smiling when he looked at her.

One last kiss on her forehead and whispered into her ear. "I love you."

And he unlocked the door and went out...

He wanted more, and he was sure Kay wanted it too, so it was a silent promise between them.

His lips were still tingling as he tried to those thoughts from his mind.

And this time he had no idea what to tell John about why he was late and about the box he was holding.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #virgil tracy #kayo kyrano #thunderbirds #virgil/kayo #lenna writes

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agentsquirrelsgotrobots · 1 year

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Cross-post from my ao3

The Litter, a DJD fanfiction

Tw: animal abuse, death, and birth, implied rape

So, you know how Kaon and Vos had a thing before Vos was revealed to be Agent 113? What if the pet was sparked, and Kaon just woke up to the Pet trying to whelp a litter.

Yeah, this isn't one of my finest ideas, but it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it.

Kaon knew something was wrong when he woke up to the Pet panting.

Not howling, not whining, not sniffling, but panting, his fans straining with effort.

Kaon also realized he was on the ground, not curled up with him. That never happened.

He turned on the light to see that the Pet was laying in a puddle of its own blood, its body straining, its middle - contracting?

Oh shit. The sparkeater is having a litter on his bedroom floor. He assumed that beastformers had their pipsqueaks normally, but he guessed that trapping the Pet in beast mode meant he had to do it organic style.

Wait. How is the Pet having a litter on his bedroom floor?

He thought back to before the Pet was the Pet. Oh, that's right. He'd had lots of fun with Vos up until and especially just before the Pet became the Pet.

Shit, these are partially his. No wonder his entire body was contracting. Even as Vos, he'd be too small.

Kaon put an experimental hand on the Pet's belly, feeling for … something? I think he had seen a medic do that on TV before. He could, at least, feel how far apart the contractions are. Wait, that's why they do that. To know how long it will be.

Curious, Kaon lifted one of the Pet's legs. His entire behind had swollen bigger, the plates being pulled aside in favor of making the valve opening as big as possible. Kaon could almost stick his pinky into the hole and did, feeling a pair of tiny noses through their birth sacs.

He tried the first option that came to mind and grabbed the Pet by the shoulders and let its butt swing back and forth, hoping that gravity would speed it along. The Pet wriggled in pain as another contraction shook its frame. They were getting closer together. Kaon put the Pet down and checked its valve again. No change, and closer contractions.

Shit. He should probably wake up Nickel.

He paused. Should he bring the Pet with him or bring Nickel to it? He stuck his pinky in the hole again and made his decision. He grabbed a blanket that he didn't like much and wrapped the Pet in it. Nickel wouldn't want him to drag her all the way here.

He walked as quickly as he could, trying not to make much noise. He decided to frame this entire thing in the idea of more t-cogs, not more mouths to feed, not that they wanted for anything.

He made it to the medbay, waking up Nickel with a push to her shoulder. She got up groggy but got a hold of herself quickly once she saw that Kaon was there.

"What do you need?"

"The Pet's gonna have a litter. Soon."

"How soon?"

"I don't know. Soon."

Nickel sighed and pulled up the bars of one of the medical berths. She turned on the exam light overhead.

"Put it down here and let me see."

Kaon laid the Pet down on the berth, securing it with a metal band around its distended middle, and he winced as Nickel pressed down on the Pet's belly a lot harder than he would have.

"Well, first thing is, there are most likely way too many puppies in there for the Pet to deliver on its own. If you hadn't brought it to me, it would have died with several still inside it. The second thing is, there isn't enough time before they start coming to do a scan. Hand me some forceps, and that short rounded thing that looks like a pair of tweezers with a handle."

Kaon handed her both tools and balked when she started to force the opening wider with her fingers, causing the Pet to squeal.

"Kaon, keep it from snapping at me." Nickel barked, timing the contractions under her breath. When it got to the point that the first puppy's head was visible without moving the tissue, Nickel stuck the forceps in and pulled it out. The Pet writhed, Kaon keeping its head pinned. Nickel cut open the birth sac and drop the pup by the Pet's stomach, where its plates had folded back to reveal a sagging udder of sorts, with a dozen teats. She marked it with a one.

She let it root around and went back and waited for the next one to be in reach of her forceps and pulled it out, this one having Kaon's electric coils folded against its back. She was more careful with this one, sticking it directly against the Pet and sticking a teat in its mouth. Nickel marked that one two.

The third and fourth almost came out together, Nickel forcing the fourth one behind its littermate. This time, the Pet pushed them both out with a wet plop.

The fifth one tried to come out sideways, Nickel having to push and prod the Pet's belly to get it facing the right direction. The Pet stopped trying to snap at Nickel, its eyes dimming with exhaustion. Kaon let its head to and moved the three new pups to its belly, marking their birth order with his own marker.

"Kaon, get a stimulant from that cabinet, a small dose of the one with a blue label, and inject it into its neck. If its eyes go out, it's not gonna wake up."

Kaon rushed to the cabinet and found the pre prepared syringe. He injected into its softer metal neck, and its eyes glowed brighter as it whined again.

Nickel pulled out another pup, checked its pulse, and threw it in the trash can.

"The one I just took out was dead already." She said, shrugging. She pressed hard on the Pet's belly again. "Two, maybe three more. Don't get your hopes up. They are probably all runts."

The Pet's entire body heaved and spasmed, and a huge, two-headed pup had to be partially pulled out of it by Nickel. She checked its pulse. "Surprisingly, this is the strongest one yet."

She stuck her whole hand up the Pet's valve, feeling around for anything else.

"I think that's the last of them, besides a shit ton of after birth that should be delivered in the next few minutes, but that will more than likely just fall out of it.

True to her word, the Pet kicked and whined, and about three cubes worth of congealed energon, along with another dead pup, left its abused valve.

Nickel used this opportunity to run some maintenance on the Pet after putting a makeshift diaper on it so any extra energon didn't get everywhere.

She also checked that each of the pups was suckling and got frustrated as the first one refused to latch. The two-headed pup seemed to be doing the best, drinking noisily and stepping on the rest of its littermates to get its fill.

"Eight pups born, with six survivors. More than I expected, but then again, it would have bled out with three. I wouldn't get too attached to the first and third one. They are the weaker of the two, and Tarn most likely won't let you keep all of them. Your best shot is trying to convince him to keep the two-headed one, the second one, and maybe the fourth and fifth could be sold or used as spare parts. You can't breed them, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately what?" Tarn said, walking into the medbay. "I checked your room, Kaon. It stunk of energon, so I knew you would be here. I'm guessing that the Pet finally squatted out its litter?"

"Yep. Eight puppies in total, six surviving, four good ones, two runts that are good for nothing but spare parts."

"Oh, but two of them are extremely interesting. Kaon, they are definitely yours. You really didn't realize that the Pet was going to whelp? Let me guess, you just thought it was getting fat?"

"Yes." He said, slightly ashamed of himself.

"Well, I'm certainly pleased. I think I would like a new hobby. Breeding mechanimals seems like fun, and the Pet is certainly fertile. I'm thinking that I should call Swindle to see if he had any more of its breed. The real ones, I mean. Don't want them to be too smart. Let the Pet have this litter in its entirety. We will need adults who know how to act around here. Nickel, clean it up." Tarn left, and Kaon couldn't believe his luck. He could have all the puppies and the Pet!

___

A few weeks later, Kaon woke up to the firstborn puppy kicked out of the makeshift nest in his room, stone gray and dead. It had never learned to suckle, despite Kaon's best efforts.

The third one wasn't doing much better. It hadn't grown a bit since it was born, while the others were growing fast, piling on the Pet and biting and snapping at its udder. The two-headed pup was almost completely weaned already, getting in the way of Kaon's attempts to feed the Pet to stick its heads in its cube. He had resorted to removing it from the nest and putting it in an old crate with a few blankets to keep warm while he fed the Pet.

The rest were still rather small, about a week away from being weaned.

That night, he took the two-headed pup with him to bed, the Pet whining with jealousy.

The pup was a much better snuggler than the Pet, its smooth plating thick yet deliciously warm. Kaon was keeping this one if Tarn let him.

____

By the end of the week, the third and fourth ones were dead, too, ripped apart by its littermates. The fifth was doing much better, growing bigger than even the two-headed pup. The one with Kaon's electric coils was also doing well, as the Pet seemed to favor it.

They were all weaned and were biting the Pet's belly, then drinking from it. Tarn wanted all of them, including the Pet, moved to the brig by nightfall.

Kaon put the two-headed pup in its box and opened up the nest, picking up the two remaining pups. The Pet followed him all the way to the brig, whining impatiently for Kaon to set them down. Kaon put each one in a separate cell, a blanket already shoved into the corner of each one. Kaon put the Pet in the cell between them, hoping that it wouldn't whine as much if it was between them.

____

The first test was a doozy. Tarn wanted to see how sharp their teeth really were, and after a few days of starvation, they were even nipping at Kaon's feet.

The victim in question had been left on the floor, a concession made for the pups' smaller size.

They did wonderfully, ripping the bot apart from the waist up, pulling and tugging out the organs on their way. Tarn had to use his voice part of the way because they were a little too good at it, and the mech almost bled out before Tarn wanted him to.

Tarn called Swindle, and by the end of the vorn, a section of the barely used brig had been converted into a kennel, four new turbofoxes included.

Kaon looked over everything with barely hidden pride. They were all his to train.

Every last one of them.

#maccadam #transformers djd

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