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lady-of-the-spirit · 2 years

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consider: Accidental Antichrist AU it’s the first school field trip and they got roped into chaperoning like 20 rowdy 7 year olds

“Can you come?” Adam asked, his eyes big and pleading as he looked up at his four guardians over the top of the letter he was holding up for them to look at.

The letter in question being a polite request for parents to come and chaperone Adam’s class’s field trip. On the surface it was perfectly normal, but Famine could read between the lines and see that it was a very firm reminder that all parents and guardians were all but required to chaperone at least one field trip.

“Where’s the trip to?” Pollution took the letter and scanned it.

“The petting zoo!” Adam said excitedly. “And you all love animals, even Uncle Gwyn even though he can’t come! It’ll be fun!”

For a moment all of them wondered if they should tell Adam the reason they all loved animals was because of the diseases born from livestock (Pestilence), the bloodshed of the animal kingdom (War), and the damage to the ecosystem caused by certain animal farming practices (Pollution). Famine didn’t like animals. Death loved animals in the same way they loved all living things - while they had a fondness for a select few, the rest were viewed neutrally and with Death knowing full well all of them would come to their kingdom someday.

In the end none of them said a word but agreed it would be one of those things to bring up later. They couldn’t have the antichrist being too fond of living things, after all.

“I can do it,” Pollution said. Already they could picture the chaos wreaked on the small zoo, each child coming back covered in muck at the end of the day, a few wrappers casually falling from their pockets across the whole zoo.

“Yay!” Adam darted forward and threw his arms around his guardian’s legs. “Thank you, Chalky!”

Pollution smiled and ran their fingers through Adam’s hair, tussling it and getting only a little bit of grease in it.

NOT ALONE, Death said immediately. I WILL ALSO COME.

Adam’s eyes practically sparkled. “Really?” Azrael almost never came to school events - they always scared everyone. Adam didn’t get it. What was so creepy about a black robe and booming voice?

I THINK A PETTING ZOO WOULD BE DELIGHTFUL, Death said. WILL THERE BE GOATS?

“I think so!”

WONDERFUL.

War and Famine exchanged looks. No way they could let those two go off on and interact with the public on their own. Individually they were fine, but together their unsettling energies were too much to be brushed off.

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” Famine said. War nodded in agreement.

Adam stuck his lower lip out.

“But you love animals,” Adam said. “Uncle Gwyn said so. And you never come on field trips.”

“People don’t like us coming on field trips,” War said. “Remember that time last year, when I went with all you first-graders to go ice-skating?” The kids had had a great time, but all of the other chaperones and the teachers had broken into a brawl on the ice not unlike one from a hockey match, and in the aftermath, once everyone had been pulled apart and the blood mopped up from the ice and all teeth were collected, everyone agreed that somehow, Carmine Zuigiber was to blame for everything. The only reason she had not been permanently banned from chaperoning future trips was because of her and Famine’s power within the PTA.

“But that wasn’t your fault!” Adam protested. “They never proved anything, that’s what’s important, you told me that! And Mark’s mom only had an eyepatch for a week!”

Adam’s lower lip stuck out further and his eyes somehow got bigger.

War held out for ten whole seconds. “Alright, kiddo, I’ll come.”

Adam brightened almost immediately. He turned to Famine. Famine who, with not only his kid looking at him so hopefully but his three siblings all staring at him expectantly, had no hope of holding his own against them.

He hated animals and zoos were disgusting, but...

“What day is it? I’ll clear my schedule.”

Adam cheered and almost barrelled Famine over with an attack-hug to his legs. Famine anticipated the attack and dropped to his knees to catch Adam in his own hug. He squeezed the little boy tight, even tighter when Adam pressed a big "thank you" kiss to Famine’s cheek.

“It’s two weeks from Friday,” Adam said, sounding like he was reciting his teacher’s instructions. “You all have to sign the sheet Mrs. Smith handed out and I have to bring it back to her tomorrow. Then she’ll email you all the instructions. And you have to read them so no one gets hurt and if someone gets hurt you know what to do. And-!”

WE CAN HANDLE IT, Death interrupted gently. WE WILL ALL SIGN THE FORM NOW AND YOU CAN GO PUT IT IN YOUR BACKPACK SO YOU WON’T FORGET.

One by one they all signed the form - Pollution even made an effort to not break the pen and leak ink all over the page, but they still signed last and the ink still dripped more than it should have. Adam ran upstairs to stow it in his backpack, as instructed.

“What the fuck did we just sign up for?” War muttered.

“A day of wrangling a bunch of other rowdy seven-year-olds,” Famine said. “So an average day, but times that by about twenty, in a setting ripe for disaster.”

“We can’t just leave the other kids alone?” Pollution clarified.

“If any of them get hurt on our watch it’ll be a fucking nightmare,” War said, rolling her eyes. “We’d probably end up sued. And Adam will be upset. So no, we can’t.”

WE WILL MAKE EVERY EFFORT TO KEEP THE CHILDREN ALIVE AND WELL, Death said. Everyone knew it was less a statement and more of a demand. AND WE WILL NOT DESTROY THE ZOO, EITHER.

“I can’t make any of the animal’s milk dry up or the chicken eggs go bad?”

NO, RAVEN, YOU CAN’T. NO ONE MAY EXERT THEIR INFLUENCE ON ANYONE OR ANYTHING BEYOND WHAT INFLUENCE YOU NATURALLY HAVE. NO ONE USES THEIR POWERS.

"Fine,” Pollution said. “Killjoy.”

“And it’s not even the type of zoo where you pick an animal and then get to kill it,” War said, somewhat scornfully. “And they say they’re giving their kids an education.”

Four chaperones turned out to be all the class needed for the trip. Which meant that the horsepeople were the only chaperones for the whole trip, not including the teacher. Mrs. Smith was not happy about that, and it was abundantly clear from the way she thanked them for joining her and her class with a "joke” that they would be off the hook for the rest of the year.

“You did start a brawl last year,” Pollution said to War, who was expressing her rage with a pearly white smile as the teacher walked away.

“They never proved that was my fault.”

BEST BEHAVIOUR.

As they loaded all the kids onto the bus, Adam came over and slipped his hand into Famine’s. “Raven’s gonna sit with me,” he said. “Me and the Them agreed.”

Pollution and War made wounded noises while Famine shot them a smug look.

“Raven’s sitting with me, and Brian’s gonna sit with Chalky. Carm and Azzy are supposed to sit at the back, and Pepper and Wensleydale will sit across from them. Adam Y. will sit in front of you with Sarah M.”

“You don’t want to all sit together?” Pollution frowned.

“If we don’t sit together the teacher will put us all in the same group,” Adam said matter-of-factly. The class was going to be split into five groups, one for each chaperone and Mrs. Smith, and if the Them weren’t put together it would be miserable for all five of them. If they were put together it would be chaos.

“Very clever, buddy.” War tweaked Adam’s nose. Adam squeaked and clapped his free hand to his nose. “You trick that bi-” Death’s aura got a little more ominous. “Bird,” she finished. “I said bird. You all heard me.”

NO SWEARING ON THIS TRIP.

“I didn’t say anything! Did I say anything?”

Famine ignored the conversation just behind him as Adam dragged him onto the bus.

The horsepeople all viewed the petting zoo with grim faces - except for Death, who of course showed no expression. Even if they could, it was hidden in the shadows of the hoodie they had put on for the outing in an attempt to look “normal.” Despite the fact that their hood was drawn around their face the same as their usual robe, hiding their face in unnatural pitch black shadows.

It worked, only in two ways - one, that Death’s powers pushed for everyone to forget what they looked like when they turned away from Death, and two, that Adam’s assumption that this was completely normal made everyone think it was normal.

They had also donned a long black skirt for the occasion, to hide the skeletal form beneath, and a pair of soft black gloves to hide their bony fingers and to give the children something soft if they should need a hand to hold. It was, as Pollution would say, “A look.”

The Them were, in fact, put in the same group. Whether that was to avoid the crisis that would occur if the friends were split up or part of Adam’s antichrist powers influencing reality, none of his guardians could tell. The Them all seemed to think their sneaky plan had worked, though.

Every adult was given a group. Death was put in charge of the Them, which the others all thought they were too smug about.

The owner of the farm greeted them with a bright smile and introduced himself as “Mr. Harkin.”

“Are you all ready to see some animals?” He asked the group in a cheery voice clearly cultivated over years of working with little kids.

“YEAH!” came the resounding cheer.

“Alright! We have quite a few stations set up with all the different animals, so the animals don’t get overwhelmed by all of you at once.” He started explaining how each group would take a certain amount of time with each station, then they would break for lunch, then end the day with a “recess” at the little park also located on the zoo’s land.

It was sickeningly cute - “trying too hard and made specially for kids” kind of cute - and Pollution already wanted to gag a little bit.

They heard the unmistakable sound of a wrapper crinkling and glanced down to see that a crisps packet had fallen from their pocket, despite being empty twenty seconds earlier. They smiled and looked back up.

A small hand tugged on their own. They looked down again and found a little girl - name tag reading ELIZABETH in teacher-perfect sharpie - holding the crisps packet in the hand not holding Pollution’s.

“You can’t litter,” Elizabeth said in a matter-of-fact tone. “It’s bad for the earth.”

“She’s right,” a boy next to her said in a hushed voice so he wouldn’t get in trouble for talking. His name tag said HENRY. “And you’ll get in trouble.”

Pollution stared for a moment. Seven years ago they probably would have given an oily smile showing too many teeth and dropped more wrappers to the ground and said something about them being trouble.

Now, though, they only sighed, took the wrapper back and stuffed it into their pocket. “Thanks, kids.”

This was going to be a long day.

REMEMBER, Death told the Them, GENTLE PETS.

“We know, Az!” Five voices chorused, as they approached the rabbit pens.

Within minutes, each child either had a rabbit on their lap and was gently petting it, or was carefully feeding a rabbit a carrot stick while the rabbit remained in the pen. Wensleydale and Adam Y. both were feeding the rabbits, while the other three children were all enjoying having a rabbit on their lap.

"Brian, you're getting yours dirty!" Adam said, pointing at his friend. Brian was indeed getting his rabbit dirty - his dirty hands had turned the rabbit's white coat brown with dust.

Brian's eyes widened and his lip wobbled dangerously.

HE'S AN ANIMAL, Death said. They too sat cross legged with the children, keeping an eye on the other two at the same time. HE DOESN'T CARE ABOUT A LITTLE BIT OF DIRT.

Brian smiled with relief, upset immediately forgotten. "That's good! I've heard of some animals that die when they get dirty."

"I've never heard of an animal like that," Pepper said. "Where did you hear about it?"

"The telly."

"I bet they were lying."

"Az would know," Adam Y. said.

"You’re right. Az, is there an animal like that in the world?" Wensleydale asked.

NOT THAT I KNOW OF. BUT IF YOU HAVE A PET YOU HAVE TO MAKE SURE THEY LIVE IN A CLEAN SPACE, OR THEY WILL GET SICK AND DIE. It couldn't hurt to warn them of the responsibility of pet ownership. The hellhound that would come for Adam would be invulnerable to harm, but pets could be acquired before then by any of them.

"But these are fine, right?" Adam Y. asked.

YES, THESE ARE FINE. GENTLE PETS, ADAM.

Adam nodded and focused on keeping his pets gentle. His tongue poked out of his mouth as he concentrated. It was heartmeltingly cute, and Death would have smiled if they could.

"Az," Pepper said, "my bunny seems tired. Is she okay?"

Death leaned over to get a better look. Without looking, though, they knew what the problem was. The bunny was old. It was nearing its time. Death winced. Its time would come within the next hour - the bunny, named Nettles, would go to sleep during the time it took for the students to switch groups and wouldn’t wake up.

They had told the others not to use their powers... but Death dreaded to think of what would happen when the other children came in to look at the bunnies. Or how Adam and the Them would react to the news.

Besides, a quick glance into all of time and space told Death that nothing would be harmed if Nettles passed away after the field trip was over.

SHE’S FINE, they said, patting Nettles on the head. Her nose twitched and she blinked at the group around her, as though just waking up from a nap.

War somehow had been given the rowdiest kids. The ones that the teachers always had to separate from their friends and sit with the quiet kids in the hope they’d be a good influence. The ones that had to be dragged back to class after recess. The ones that drew on their desks and arms and all over their homework.

In any other situation she would have loved it. However, since they were supposed to be on their “best behaviour”, she was forcing herself to push down any enjoyment and be the “responsible one”. If she didn’t, it might end up ruining the trip for Adam and she could not have that.

Which mean that instead of provoking or even cheering them on, she had to break up a fight between two seven-year-olds three different times before they made it to their second exhibit.

This was, unfortunately, the burden of parenting.

“Okay,” she said through clenched teeth, holding the two boys by the back of their shirts, “enough of that. You’re going to scare the goats away.”

Brandon scowled and Jason pouted.

“Yeah!” snapped Anne, the kid in the group who apparently had taken one look at War and decided she was the coolest person ever. “You’ll scare ‘em to death!”

“Yeah,” War said. “To death. Goats can get really scared really easily and sometimes they can die from it.”

Brandon and Jason looked horrified.

“You boys don’t want to kill any goats, do you?”

“No!” Both of them shouted at once.

“Then no more fighting!”

“Okay!” Both boys held each other’s hands, apparently deciding on a truce. Hopefully they’d forget whatever issue they’d been having before they moved on to the next exhibit. War didn’t think she could use that excuse on any of the other animals. Maybe the rabbits.

“Good job, Anne,” War said. Anne beamed.

The kids were all given carrot sticks to feed to the goats. As soon as they smelled food, the whole herd were crowding the fence, sticking their heads over or against the wire to try and get as much food as they could. War watched with only mildly begrudging amusement as the kids who had just been driving her crazy started squealing and cooing with delight over all the goats.

“Miss Carmine!” Sara J. yelled. “Feed them with us!” She stuck out one of her carrot sticks.

War took the offered stick and joined the kids by the fence. Almost immediately, the goats that were closest to her started vying for her attention, nipping and biting at each other to force them out of the way, bleating furiously at each other. War made sure the kids weren’t watching - she had to be a good influence for the time being - and then started playing a little game with the goats, holding her carrot stick just out of reach and waving it around, showing it off to all the different goats, making it look like she’d give it to one of them, then to a different one, then to another one, and so on. The goats bleated and shrieked at each other and at her as she teased them and she grinned as they started biting each other more often.

“They like you,” Daniel said, oblivious to the tension between the animals. “Look, they all want your attention!”

“Of course they do,” War said with a slightly too sharp smile. The kid didn’t notice. “Are you gonna feed ‘em?”

Daniel nodded. “I’m gonna feed the baby.” He turned to the tiny baby goat that was sticking its head through the fence at the very bottom, smaller than all the others and able to fit. He held out his carrot stick towards the baby, and it reached out to take it, when all of a sudden a larger adult goat reached down, knocking the baby out of the way and snatching up the offered carrot. Daniel gave a startled cry, and that was when Anne, a look of righteous fury on her face, jumped forward and slammed her tiny fist into the goat’s chin, giving it a perfect uppercut.

War gave a very loud laugh. Then she remembered what her job was and she slapped her hand over her mouth.

The kids were all staring at her.

“I mean- don’t punch the goats!”

“Be careful,” Mr. Harkin said as he passed Famine the little brown bag of duck feed. “Those ducks can swarm you pretty fast. Give the kids small amounts so they don’t get overwhelmed.”

“Of course,” Famine said, already dreading it. “Come on, kids. Let’s go see the ducks.”

The kids were all delighted by the duck pond, and even Famine had to admit it was kind of nice. It wasn’t a very big pond, but it was big enough. There was a little island in the middle with a little roost for ducks to sleep, and the edge of the water was lined with a path of rocks and stones of different colours.

“No one get in the water,” Famine reminded the kids. “And be careful, we don’t want anyone slipping.”

“Okay, Mr. Sable!” five voices chorused at him. Famine wondered if his siblings had gotten kids as well behaved as these ones.

“Look!” Emily pointed, not towards the pond but across the small field they had walked across to get to the pond. “The ducks are coming!”

She was right - there was a flock of ducks waddling across the grass to reach them. It was a mass of brown feathers, with a handful of green heads sticking out, heading right towards them with single-minded focus.

Famine pulled out the bag and slowly - making sure not to touch the feed himself, not knowing what it would do if he did - poured a little handful into the palms of each kid. “Be careful when you feed them. But don’t get scared if they get too close. They’re just hungry.”

He wished the feed was bread crumbs with no nutritional value to the ducks instead of actual healthy food for them, but alas.

The kids spread out a little bit, standing further apart so the ducks didn’t crowd all of them. Famine stayed where he was and watched them. The ducks spread out as well, going to whichever kid was closest to them and eagerly snatching up the feed as the kids sprinkled it onto the ground or tossed it across the yard. David seemed to enjoy that the most, throwing it at the ducks rather than feeding them directly.

Famine privately hoped his influence would keep the ducks hungry long after they had left. Then just a minute later, he regretted thinking it, because the ducks started coming towards him.

“We’re out of food,” Jessica said.

“They’re still hungry!” cried Emma - not Emily, but apparently they were best friends and everyone got them confused anyway. “Give us more food!”

“Please,” Famine said on instinct.

“Please!”

“Alright, let me just,” Famine took a step, then had to put his foot back down when that spot was swarmed with ducks. He looked around for an empty spot but there was none - every space around him was just ducks.

“They keep coming to you,” Thomas said helpfully.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Famine said, trying to take a step back, then forward, and ended up not moving at all. He shuffled to the side and the ducks moved, but not enough for him to move.

“They know you have the food!” Emily shouted. “Quick, do something!”

“They’re gonna eat you!”

“Calm down,” Famine said, but this started off a cacophony of children’s voices shrieking about him being eaten by the ducks in varying degrees of panic. G-o-d if Heaven or Hell could see him now-

“Go get help!” David yelled, looking near hysterics. Jessica and Emma both started moving before Famine quickly assured them they did not need to do that, even as the ducks, quacks getting louder and louder, started trying to reach up and grab the feed bag from his hand, flapping their wings with irritation when he held it to his chest and out of their reach. He flapped his hand at the ducks, but they just flapped their wings and quacked at him, so that accomplished nothing.

Finally, in a move so quick he barely realized it was happening until it was over, one duck took flight, jumping straight up and snatching the very bottom of the brown bag. It ripped the bag right open and feed spilled out of the bag and all across the ground. The kids gasped and Famine cursed, almost tripping backwards out of surprise at the duck’s actions, but now the ducks were all sated as they attacked the ground around his feet, swarming him again as they fought to be fed.

Finally, Famine managed to step over the horde and get himself free. By then, the kids had forgotten their terror and were all laughing.

Well, as long as they were having a good time.

“What did that word you said mean? Fuck?”

Shit.

Pollution felt such a kinship with the pigs. The rest of the animals were filthy but the pigs were something else. They didn’t even have to influence the environment, the environment was already disgusting. It was wonderful. And the kids agreed.

It was literally taking everything in them to not just jump in the mud puddle and disappear into it forever and focus on what they were supposed to be doing.

“Don’t pull their tails,” they said to Jeffrey.

“Yeah, don’t pull their tails!” Elizabeth said, glaring at the boy who was now petting his piglet, properly chastised.

“And don’t kiss your pig on the mouth!” Pollution pointed at Antoine. Antoine frowned but lowered his piglet and kissed it on the forehead instead, which Pollution supposed was good enough. Good thing Pestilence wasn’t here.

“Um, Chalky?” Henry asked hesitantly. “The pig took my sock.”

Pollution turned around and yep - the little boy was standing with one bare foot in the mud, his tiny shoe in one hand, and a little piglet was all the way across the pen with a bright red sock in its mouth.

“Why did you take your sock off?”

“Because it was all scrunched up in my shoe and I took my shoe off to fix it but the pig-”

“Okay, okay, I’ll get it back,” Pollution sighed, standing up. They stepped into the muddy pen and walked over to the pig, who took one look at the agent of chaos coming its way and decided to take some inspiration from them by sprinting away.

“Get back here!” Without thinking, Pollution took off after it. The kids cheered them on, clapping enthusiastically as Pollution chased the rambunctious little bastard through the mud. Luckily this was not the first time Pollution had chased something - or someone - through mud, so they weren’t worried about slipping or falling.

Until the pig turned around and charged them and startled Pollution so badly that they slipped and fell flat on their back into the mud.

And oh, it was so wonderful.

“Chalky!”

“Are you okay?”

“Did you get my sock?”

“Someone get help!”

“I’m fine!” Pollution raised their hand and waved at the kids, not getting up. “I’m just enjoying the mud, I’m fine!”

It was glorious. The sticky wet feeling of the mud seeping into their clothes, soaking their hair, dirtying their hands and everything it touched. Pollution wondered when they had last soaked in a mud puddle. Maybe a month ago. They needed to do it more often.

“What did they say?”

“They’re enjoying the mud.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Can we come and join?”

“No! We can’t do that, we’re not allowed! Right, Chalky?”

Pollution thought about Elizabeth’s question. Then they felt something snuggling up under their arms. They looked down and saw two different pigs snuffling at them. One of them had Henry’s sock. Pollution tugged the sock from its mouth and held it up triumphantly. “Got your sock, Henry!”

“Can I come and get it?”

“But we’re not allowed.”

“You’re allowed!” Pollution said. More pigs had come to sniff at them and had started laying down next to them, lazing in the sun. “All of you come and join me.”

They heard the kids squelching their way over. Henry took his sock back. “Thank you Chalky.”

“No problem.” Pollution thought for a moment. “You kids can just hang out with the pigs here while I lay here, right?”

“Sure!”

“Can we dump mud on you?”

“Absolutely.”

HOW DID IT GO? Death asked the other chaperones as they got together for lunch time. The kids were all sitting in a circle and talking about the day so far. The adults sat together and watched them while eating their own lunches.

Or, at least, Mrs. Smith and Mr. Harkin sat together and the horsepeople sat together, separately.

"I had a good time,” Pollution said.

YOU AND YOUR KIDS ARE COVERED IN MUD, CHALKY. The disapproval was clear.

“Hey, I’m covered in mud, the kids just got a little muddy! This is a success story!”

“Mrs. Smith doesn’t look happy,” Famine said with a look at the teacher, who was glaring at them.

“If she doesn’t want the kids getting dirty, then maybe don’t bring them to a fucking farm!”

I SAID NO SWEARING ON THIS TRIP.

“Yeah, Chalky, language,” Famine said.

“And I’m sure you all had successful time too,” Pollution said with a glare. “I saw you giving your kids money earlier, Raven.”

“You’re such a snitch!”

“What did you do?” War asked with a grin.

Famine glared, but Death was staring at him. “I may have said a word - under duress - that was not appropriate for seven-year-olds, and the money might have been a bribe to get them to forget it ever happened. Or at least not tell their parents who taught it to them.”

RAVEN!

“It was an accident! I was startled!”

“For shame, Raven,” Pollution said with a shake of their head.

“You’re the one who got your kids crawling through the mud.”

“Teaching kids swears and bribing them is worse than getting them a little dirty,” War said, her grin widening. “Nice going.”

“And how did your kids do, Carmine?” Famine said with a glare.

“They were perfect. On an unrelated note, Anne might have a future in boxing ahead of her, and I’m also going to need to borrow some cash from you.”

“Bribery again!” Pollution pointed an accusing finger. “What did you do?”

“It was the kid, not me! I just laughed at what she did! And now I need the kids to forget I laughed before they grow up thinking punching animals is funny!”

THEY PUNCHED AN ANIMAL?!

“Anne was defending her friend and one of the baby animals! It was deserved. But also they can’t grow up thinking punching animals is funny even though in the moment it totally was.”

“What about you, Az?” Pollution looked over to Death, who was on the verge of a lecture that needed to be avoided. “How were Adam and the kids?”

THEY WERE JUST FINE AND NOTHING HAPPENED.

The three of them stared at Death.

“What did you do?” War asked suspiciously.

I KEPT A BUNNY ALIVE TO AVOID UPSETTING THE CHILDREN.

“You used your powers!”

“We agreed we wouldn’t!”

THE BUNNY WAS GOING TO DIE. IT WOULD HAVE RUINED THE WHOLE DAY. IT WAS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FROM WHAT THE THREE OF YOU WERE DOING, Death stated firmly, unashamed.

“Because we didn’t violate the one rule we made for ourselves?”

“For shame, Azrael,” Famine said, shaking his head. “For shame.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Yeah, Az.”

I SAID BEST BEHAVIOUR AND YOU ALL FAILED. I AT LEAST HAD A PURPOSE FOR WHAT I WAS DOING.

“Oh, here we go again - ‘I’m the oldest, I never make mistakes, I always have a purpose, blah blah blah’,” War mocked. “Just admit we all fucked up today.”

I WILL NOT.

“Then no bullying us for our fuck ups.”

STOP SWEARING. RAVEN’S MISTAKE WAS BAD ENOUGH.

“It wasn’t that bad!”

“Mrs. Smith is coming over,” Pollution said.

Mrs. Smith was coming over. And she told them on no uncertain terms that they would not be allowed to chaperone any field trips for the rest of the year. Possibly ever.

But at the end of the day, Adam came home happy and unaware of the chaos they had sewn, and that was what mattered.

#not acknowledging how long this is or how long it took #good omens #accidental antichrist acquisition au #adam young #war good omens #famine good omens #death good omens #pollution good omens #good omens au #good omens fic #i'm writing stuff #i'm making stuff #ask #aquadrops #is adam y greasy johnson or warlock? your pick #but yes he is adam young. just not the antichrist adam. just one of the human babies in the switch who ended up raised by the youngs

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myfinejacksauce · 2 years

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It's Father's Day, so shout out to Arthur Young who was too caught up in thinking about winking nuns and Ken Russel films to even consider that his baby was being switched lol

#good omens #arthur young #baby switch #text #book omens

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 4 months

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pt V good omens S1E1 summarised but i understood nothing but the queer

this is me back to summarising because if i think too hard about crowley and aziraphale watching each other i'll break down and i've only watched three episodes what does this say about me

without further ado, good omens episode one:

It opens with narration by God who is morally grey and tells us Earth is a libra. I see tarot cards. It could be a hallucination.

Cut to the garden of Eden. Crowley is a snake. I assume Adam and Eve ate the apples, but I am too busy looking at David Tennant.

They talk and say important things, but I am too busy looking at Michael Sheen. Aziraphale gives fire to the humans and adopts the gaslight gatekeep girlboss method of explaining it to Crowley and the folks at heaven.

Heaven consists of uncomfortable close-ups. I hear nothing they say any time a scene is set in heaven because I am counting skin cells on the angels. They like Sound of Music. I am growing to hate Sound of Music. Thanks, heaven.

Cut to modern day but not the present, 11 years ago. Zombies emerge from the ground, but they are not zombies, not yet. One of them looks like a dead blobfish. His face decomposes later.

Not-yet-zombies hand the Antichrist baby to Crowley, who catwalks through the graveyard with the basket swinging on his hand.

God starts talking about the ol' switcheroo, intercut with an American politician who loves the Y chromosome, as one does.

There are Satanic nuns, and they are bad at their job, but they really like toes. Not in a sexual way. We think. We hope.

There is a lot of baby switching and inaccurate wink interpretations. I understand nothing. It is fine. The plot is unimportant.

The Antichrist does not raise tropical fish. An easy mistake to make.

Crowley and Aziraphale try to balance the Satanic tendencies of their adoptive son Warlock, who is not the Antichrist. Crowley serves us more gender as she becomes the nanny. Aziraphale is the gardener. I hope it is not him. I hope it is someone else.

I hope in vain. It is him. It is always him.

They raise not-Antichrist for eleven years.

A scheduled dog delivery from hell does not arrive on time, which makes Crowley and Aziraphale realise they did not raise the Antichrist. Contrary to sensible interpretation, this is not good. They abandon their adoptive son, which is normal.

Cut to the Antichrist, whom I immediately want to adopt. There are friends, and I am told they are important, but all I know is Brian is just Brian and the others are foils for the horsemen of the apocalypse.

There is an apocalypse upcoming. I do not realise it until this point.

The Satanic dog delivery arrives as scheduled to the Antichrist, and becomes a puppy. The Antichrist, with boundless creativity, names the Satanic dog delivery Dog. I continue to love him.

Contrary to sensible interpretation, this is not good. The Antichrist naming the Satanic dog delivery Dog is such a tragic blow to the world of scientific nomenclature that the apocalypse is now set into motion.

The end.

#what does it mean that i accidently typed it omens with instead of it opens with #good omens #good omens mascot #good omens summary #back on my bullshit i'm sorry guys you tried #but so much happened and nothing happened #this was all i got from it #it's enough i think #lgbtqia #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #aziraley #azirowley #ineffable fandom #good ineffable omens #ineffable husbands #here i was at least alert #wait till episode 2 and 3 where my brain started rotting

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nebulousbrainsoup · 10 months

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hey could i send a request for han jisung x readers enemies to lovers university au with the smut prompts 1 + 45 + 81(spoiled they get caught🤭) maybe with a party setting 🥰 thank you sm

prompts:

1. "I love it when you moan my name." || 45. "Just shut up and fuck me." || 81. "If we get caught, I'm blaming you."

Vehemently

fulfilled as part of my 150(ish) followers event.

PAIRING: han jisung x fem!reader GENRE: enemies to lovers, smut, college au RATING: 18+ ; minors/ageless blogs dni TAGS/WARNINGS: ft. felix, hyunjin & lino, swearing, alcohol use, drug use, slight misunderstandings, sassy jisung & reader, quick edit, let me know if i missed anything! WORD COUNT: 3.7k SUMMARY: above! A/N: i haven't been able to stop thinking about this request since you sent it, but good LORD has this fic eluded me. i think i'm coming to the realization that i cannot be mean to any of the boys who are younger than me, even if it's only by a few months. but here you are, my dear, i hope the wait was worth it. have a full-length fic as an apology </3

smut tags/warnings under the cut ; masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

NSFW TAGS/WARNINGS: lil bit of hate sex, rough sex, dom-leaning jisung, sub-leaning reader, but they’re both switches to me, bratty behavior, biting, marking, brief oral (fem receiving), use of a condom, protected sex, piv, little bit of edging, nicknames (baby, sweetheart, pretty boy), getting caught; let me know if i missed anything, please!

Coming to this party was an awful idea. You’d known it when Felix had invited you, but he’d flashed those big brown eyes of his at you and you’d melted immediately. It was his birthday, after all, and you and Hyunjin were his best friends—it would be rude for you not to show, especially since your roommate had made it clear that he would be going. Though you were wary, you decided to give it the benefit of the doubt, with a promise from Hyunjin that he would stay by your side.

The second you’d walked through the door, though, Felix had wrapped you both up in hugs, and when you’d turned back around to find your roommate, he’d vanished. The same happened with Felix when you spun back around, and you were left alone in the entryway of a house you had never been to before. You sighed in defeat, resigning yourself to finding the kitchen alone. If you were going to be here, you may as well take advantage of the free liquor.

You’d nearly finished mixing your drink when a familiar, loud laugh caught your attention, and a chill lit down your spine. Of course Changbin would be here, you reminded yourself. He’s one of Felix’s favorite people, after all, and just because he—and probably Chris, now that you thought about it—was here, it didn’t mean Han Jisung would be. You would be fine.

Lee Minho, on the other hand, was a more unexpected sight, and you nearly jumped out of your skin at finding the man staring at you, head tilted in confusion. He looked much like the black cat he was frequently compared to, and felt just as ill an omen. Sure, he and Felix were on the dance team together, but you had never known them to be close. Han and Minho on the other hand, had always been suspiciously so.

You gave a tight smile, which he did not return, instead asking, “What are you doing here?”

You scrunched up your nose at him. “It’s… Felix’s birthday party? Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Realization, though you weren’t sure of what, dawned on his face. “Ah, of course, silly me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?”

“It’s Felix’s birthday party,” he echoed, raising his plastic cup to you before turning to head out of the kitchen. “And Han’s, too.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched him nearly skip away, and you quickly downed your entire drink. If Hyunjin couldn’t get you out of here now, you were going to have a long night ahead of you.

By the time you finally found your roommate, you had already caught sight of Han twice. You were fuming quietly when you finally made your way out to the backyard, unsurprisingly finding Hyunjin with a joint in one hand and a cup in the other, laughing as he passed it on to Jeongin. His eyes flickered up to you as you approached, and he began to scoot over to make room for you in the circle.

“Sorry! I kind of forgot we were sticking together. You can—”

“Did you know this was Han’s party, too?” You cut in, hands on your hips.

The circle went quiet, and Hyunjin tilted his head at you. “You… didn’t?”

“If I did, I probably wouldn’t have come.” You seethed, and he flushed, eyes dropping to the floor. When he didn’t reply, you huffed, crossing your arms and starting back for the house. “Whatever. I’m out of here.”

It wasn’t anything against Felix or Hyunjin; you simply hated Han Jisung. You’d shared a gen-ed course your first year here, and he was the first face that stuck out to you in the lecture hall. You hadn’t expected much when you finally gathered the nerve to approach him—maybe a hello, or a quick number exchange. Instead, he’d kept his head down, given you a disinterested half-glance over, and made his way to the door without a single word, leaving you standing awkwardly alone in the middle of the lecture hall. When you’d finally gotten to know him through your mutual friends—with some reluctance—you’d immediately found him loud and annoying, far too cocky for your tastes. Between the awful first impression and his inability to take anything, especially you, seriously, your hatred for him had bloomed quickly.

And now, here you were at his birthday party. You’d seen him, sure, but you’d be damned if you let him see you. You had appearances to keep up and a heart to keep intact. Resolving to find Felix before just ditching him, you made your way back into the roiling crowd in the living room. It was hard to see between or over the dancing bodies as you were jostled, trying fruitlessly to elbow your way through, and you quickly abandoned that plan of action. Sighing, you made your way back to the kitchen, hoping for a little peace to clear your scrambled mind.

No such luck would come, it seemed, as the moment you turned the corner into the kitchen, you slammed face-first into the very man you were trying to avoid. His own freshly made drink went down the front of both of you, and you huffed a sigh, biting the inside of your lip to keep the tears of frustration from spilling. This party was a stupid idea.

“Oh, shit, are you okay?”

Before you could spiral into your abyss of self-loathing, his voice cut through your thoughts.

“Fine,” you spat, “can’t say the same for my clothes, though.”

He frowned, irritation crossing his features at your attitude. “Look, sorry, but maybe you should watch where you’re going next time. I know you hate me, but take it easy on the booze, would you?”

You rolled your eyes heartily, turning on your heel. Just as you were about to cross back into the living room, his hand latched around your wrist. “Wait!” He looked stunned as you turned around, swallowing thickly and giving you a once-over. “It’s kind of my fault, too, I wasn’t really… Let me grab you something to wear and I can dry your clothes or something.”

“It’s fine, I was heading out anyway.”

“It’s only been an hour. Felix wants you to at least stay til midnight, right? For his actual birthday? You and Hyunjin are like his best friends, come on. Don’t make him suffer just ‘cause you’re pissed at me.”

You scrunched up your nose and, not for the first time, Jisung thought it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. He never quite figured out why you hated him so much, but it was common knowledge between your mutual friends, and he played into it every chance he got. It was easier that way; he could put some distance between himself and his feelings for you. Whatever the reason may be, you absolutely despised him, and to see you here tonight was a complete surprise. He assumed you were here for Felix—everyone knew how close the two of you were; and the last thing he wanted to do was force you to leave the party because of his presence or clumsiness.

“Let me help. For him. Then I’ll stay out of your hair for the rest of the night.”

You sighed, but the way your shoulders slumped told Han he had won this battle. “Fine,” you muttered, tugging your wrist free of his grasp. “But it’s just for Lix.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” he teased, grinning widely. As he squeezed past you, he took your hand, grip tightening as you tried to yank away from him.

“Don’t want you to get lost in the fray, do we?” His cocky little smirk was still plastered on his face, and you rolled your eyes heartily, gesturing him forward.Although it had heat rising to your cheeks, you were thankful for Jisung’s hand in yours—though you were loath to admit it, he was right. You would have been swept away in the crowd within seconds if not for his firm grip. God, what you would do to have those hands elsewhere; he really was unfairly pretty. As he dragged you along, you got a lovely view of just how much he had filled out since that first day in the lecture hall—his shoulders having broadened and his biceps having thickened. Despite your front, you were just as head over heels for this man as you had been the day you laid eyes on him.

There were significantly fewer people upstairs, and you tugged your hand from his grip the moment you could, though with slightly less vehemence this time. He still shot a sideways glance back at you, a half-glare that held less heat than it had earlier. By the time you made it to his room, you were fighting to keep your façade up, replaying how quick he’d been to help you and how his hand felt in yours on a loop. It seemed both of you were struggling to hold onto your hatred. As you crossed the threshold into a space that, until this point, seemed both forbidden and tainted, you felt a shift in the air.

His space was a lived-in amount of messy; there was a half-full Starbucks cup on his desk, clothes on the floor, and his bed was unmade. He didn’t touch the light switch by the door, instead picking up a remote, the lamps connected to it casting a warm glow over the room. It felt cozy, you thought, and immediately frowned. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking.

He turned to you, t-shirt and shorts in hand, holding them out for you to take. “You can change here. I’ll wait outside for your clothes… Unless you want help.”

He grinned, his grip on the pile of clothes in both of your hands unrelenting, using your tugging on them as an excuse to crowd into your space. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Jisung?” you hissed back.

“I mean… I wouldn’t mind putting you in your place,” he practically purred, his free hand shifting to hover over your waist. “See if you still hate me so much when I’ve got you under me.”

“As if your mediocre dick game could change my mind.” You weren’t sure if it was just the alcohol talking, but suddenly, you wanted nothing more than to test this theory.

His jaw set and his eyes narrowed, leaving a very different version of Han Jisung in front of you than you were used to. “I’ll show you mediocre,” he hissed, releasing his hold on his clothes and shoving you back toward his bed. “It’ll be anyone else you’ve had or will have.”

“What the fuck ever.” You rolled your eyes, letting his clean clothes drop to the floor, reaching up to grab his shirt and tug him toward you. “If we get caught, I’m blaming you,” you muttered, dragging him against you and crashing your lips together.

You felt him grin against you and you sank your teeth into his lower lip, pulling a quiet hiss from him. One of his hands snapped up, fisting into your hair to yank you back. The look on his face was one you wanted to either slap or kiss off of him; the line was too blurred now to tell which.

“Like it a little rough, do we?” He prodded, both his hands dropping to the hem of your shirt. He tugged it over your head in one fluid motion, your bra quickly joining it over his shoulder. He straightened back up, licking his lips hungrily as he took the opportunity to drink you in. “Wonder if I can still taste my drink…” he mused, quickly pressing you back against the mattress to latch his lips to your chest.

You groaned, half in frustration and half from pleasure. “Do you ever stop talking?”

He sunk his teeth into your breast sharply at your jab, a surprised squeak leaving you at the feeling. Almost immediately, he was releasing you and soothing the sting with his lips and tongue, no doubt attempting to leave behind a mark that, even if it weren’t visible, would be felt tomorrow. You let a quiet groan pass your lips, and Jisung pulled back with a quiet pop to grin at you.

“Still hate me?”

“Vehemently.”

He clicked his tongue. “Looks like I need to try harder, then.”

In a feat of strength you weren’t aware he was capable of, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you, tossing you further onto the bed. You gasped, catching yourself on your elbows as he joined you, making quick work of the button and zipper of your shorts. With a swift tug, he’d pulled them down to your ankles and, with your help, they joined the rest of your clothes on the floor.

Suddenly aware of the disparity between yours and Jisung’s clothing, you sat up, hands grabbing at the hem of his shirt so you could bunch it up under his arms. “Off,” you demanded, and he quickly complied, tugging it over his head.

Before you could say another word or pull at his shorts, he slipped back down your body, his lips trailing wet warmth down your torso. The moment he reached the waistband of your underwear, he paused, gazing up at you through his lashes. “You’re sure about this?”

For the first time that night, he seemed unsure. His doe eyes were wide and open, an honesty behind them that the two of you didn’t usually share. It made your stomach twist and your heart skip a beat, and you nodded.

“I thought you had something to prove,” you muttered in an attempt to ignore the tangle of feelings in your chest, tugging him down toward your core.

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your clothed heat before tugging your panties off. The moment they were gone, he was back between your legs, licking a fat stripe up over your folds before his lips attached themselves to your clit. You whined, high-pitched and heady, and he smirked up at you, pressing a kiss to your clit. “Like that, huh?”

Your jaw clenched and you sighed heavily through your nose, your grip in his hair tightening until he winced. “Han Jisung, I swear if you don’t… Just shut up and fuck me or put your mouth to better use.”

“Your wish is my command,” he muttered as he pushed himself back up your body, your lips meeting again in a messy kiss.

He pulled back before you did, wincing again as you tried to tug him back to you, both of you fumbling with his jeans. “Gotta let me up, baby,” he murmured between kisses. He was clinging just as desperately as you were, his lips barely parting from your own. “Condoms are in my desk.”

You huffed, annoyed, and flopped back against the mattress, releasing his scalp from your death grip. The sound pulled a quiet chuckle from him as he stood, finally unbuttoning his pants and darting across the small room to his desk drawer. He shucked both his pants and boxers to the floor as he made his way back, and it was everything you could do not to gawk, open-mouthed, at how unbelievably pretty he was. The arms you’d noticed earlier were only the beginning, apparently—his toned stomach and legs matching them perfectly in a stunning contrast to his round face. Fuck, even his cock was pretty, flushed and leaking as he rolled the condom over it. The last shred of your pride was the only thing keeping you from begging to wrap your lips around him first.

“Like what you see?” He broke the silence, and the self-satisfied look on his face told you he had most definitely caught you staring.

“Keep running your mouth and I’ll leave you like this.”

The panic-stricken look that flashed in his eyes had you biting back laughter, but it was quickly replaced by something darker as he caught the grin on your face. He glared at you as he settled between your legs again, ducking down once more to suck hard on your clit.

“J-Jisung!” you gasped, hand snapping down to card into his hair again. The tight circles his tongue drew over the little bundle of nerves had pleasure rocketing up your spine, your entire body tensing with the sudden onslaught. As suddenly as that had begun, the stimulation shifted, his tongue darting between your folds to taste you, and you whined out his name once more. He groaned against you, giving your clit another harsh suck—one that nearly brought you over the edge—before he sat back on his heels again.

“Fuck, I love it when you moan my name,” he sighed, caging you in below him as he lined himself up with your entrance. “It sounds a lot prettier than all those nasty, empty threats.”

“Han,” you sighed, hips rolling toward his own.

He frowned disapprovingly and shifted his hips back, the hand that had been guiding his cock now pressing your hips into the mattress. “Not like that, sweetheart, c’mon. Say it right.”

“Didn’t I just tell you to quit talking?” you huffed, grabbing at his hips.

“Or put my mouth to better use, and I think at least one of those requests has been fulfilled.”

The grin on his face was wide and you were once again hit with the urge to wipe it off his face. The surge of rage lasted only a moment, though, before he was teasing at your hole again and your breath caught in your throat. You melted under him, hand sliding up from his hips to grip at his shoulders.

“Jisung,” you breathed, hips rolling forward again.

This time, you saw his shaky inhale as he did the same, quiet, broken sounds leaving you both as he finally filled you. He swallowed thickly, head tucking into your neck to pepper light kisses against your skin as he bottomed out, giving you both time to adjust. He was bigger than you’d expected, just thick enough to provide a pleasant stretch. You hummed, eyes slipping shut, and ground your hips against his.

“You have something to prove, don’t you, pretty boy?” You muttered against the shell of his ear, and you felt his shoulders shake with the chuckle that left him. “Fuck me like you hate me, Han Jisung.”

He propped himself up as his hips rolled back, the hand not bracing him wrapping around your back to lift your hips from the mattress. As his lips twitched up into a smirk, he slammed back into you, settling immediately into a ruthless pace. You managed to choke back the shout that left you halfway through it, nails sinking into his back as your jaw dropped open. Strained, needy sounds were punched out of you with every snap of his hips, matched by his own pants and groans as you scratched down his back.

“This what you wanted?” he ground out, eyes narrowing when you gave no response. “Wanted me to—to fuck you stupid? Can’t even—mmph!”

You cut him off with your lips, swallowing his next deep groan and muffling your own squeak as he picked up his pace. The kiss devolved quickly into little more than sharing air, your bodies pressed tightly together as you chased your highs. One of your hands shifted from his shoulder, snaking between the two of you to rub at your cli and Jisung shifted as you did, pausing his rhythm to sit back on his heels and drag you with him. When he resumed his pace, the new angle had you crying out, your free hand fisting into the sheets and your eyes rolling back in your head. Distantly, you thought you heard him huff a laugh, but you were too far gone to care.

You were falling over the peak of your pleasure in moments, his name falling from your lips one last time. The sight of you alone, skin sweat-slicked and back arched in pleasure, was enough to bring Jisung to the edge of his own orgasm, and the sound of your voice sent him careening over it. He pulled your hips flush with his own and let his head fall back, basking in the feeling of your walls pulsing around him as he spilled into the condom. Both of you stilled, your eyes closed and only the sound of your shaky breathing filling the room as the weight of reality prodded at the edges of your foggy mind. You could stay suspended in this little fantasy for a moment longer, you decided.

Or, you would have, if not for the rapping at the door. You and Jisung shared a look of panic and scrambled apart, both grabbing for the top blanket on his bed as the door cracked open. Your stomach sank as Felix’s voice met your ears, his blue head of hair peeking around the corner.

“It’s almost midnight, dude, what are you—oh!”

You locked eyes with your best friend before you could pull the covers over your head, and heat immediately rushed to your face. Slowly, you sank underneath them anyway, unwilling to meet his gaze any longer.

He snapped back around it nearly immediately, pressing his back to the door as he finished. “Uh, nevermind! Midnight is soon, we had that, uh… thing planned, but… I’m gonna head back down, you two have fun!”

As the door snapped shut behind him, the silence that fell over you and Jisung felt heavy, and you just as slowly crept out from under the blankets. Meeting his eyes, you saw the same confusion you felt reflected in his stare. His eyes flickered rapidly over your face as he gnawed at his lower lip, searching for something, though you had no idea what.

“Still hate me?” He muttered, nearly immediately moving to discard the condom, busying himself to avoid meeting your gaze.

Your voice was shaky, the heat absent from it as you replied, “Vehemently.”

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feiandart · 1 month

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"Anthony, I stopped hiding weeks ago... Even if it's just a glimpse, I thought you'd see me by now." "That's not enough," the artist replied, brushing his chin with his index and middle fingers. "Maybe you should just let me in now." Aziraphale raises his eyes with disarming slowness, returning Anthony's gaze with caution. There is insecurity hidden between his blond lashes, but it quickly dissipates as he takes another step towards the redhead. The artist bends his face forward, stealing his breath. "Yes... Maybe I should." There is a moment, before a kiss, capable of stretching out in time more than the clock allows. It's the anticipation that dictates the terms of the contact, and its duration establishes the impulse, the spontaneity, the passion. Or at least that is what Anthony has always believed, he who has been kissing with desire and instinct all his life, refusing to give time to time itself, impatient to take what he wants. But. There's always a bloody but. But today, waiting is everything. Standing an inch from Aziraphale's lips, with nothing to prevent him from bridging the gap, he feels each moment flowing around them, building brick by brick a foundation of expectation and longing. The more the hands chime the seconds, the more they seem to cement at the bottom of his stomach, making his hands itch, making the Lord's breath on his lips glow. But if waiting is able to build so much, allowing him to peek beyond half-closed eyelids at the waiting face of Aziraphale, motionless and lacking initiative but whose half-open mouth betrays his silent invitation, then what else can be built in the same way? Is it possible to dilate this tension? Anthony does not know, he would just like to switch his mind off again and simply let himself go. But he does not. Instead he takes a step back, denying himself. "Let me in, then," he says.

#good omens #good omens art #ineffable husbands #good omens au #gomens #crowley #good omens crowley #anthony j crowley #long hair crowley #good omens fanart #aziracrow #aziraphale #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #good omens fic #good omens human au #sugar

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mayfieldss · 1 year

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Can't let go - Dick Grayson

Warnings; language, sexual innuendos, small arguments.

Pairing; Dick Grayson x fem!reader

Summary; You and Dick used to be in love. After your relationship comes to an end, Dick realizes that he never stopped loving you, and maybe he never will.

AN; very loosely inspired by 'Bad Omens' by 5SOS, thanks for the idea / song rec @hiya-its-amber

For the first time in months, Dick feels at peace. He's comfortable and happy, tangled in the sheets with your head on his chest. Your breaths match his, and with his fingers tracing patterns on your bare skin, he can convince himself that this is how it's meant to be. It's proof that he can be happy and that maybe he deserves to be.

"You're oddly quiet." He can hear the smile in your voice, your words drowned in it, and Dick lets himself soak in the fact that you're content. You're content with him.

"Does that bother you?" He presses a kiss to your hair, fingers running absentmindedly over your spine. Your skin is smooth there, scarless, unlike his own.

"I like hearing your voice." You shift in his embrace so you can look at him, and it hits Dick then, just how much he loves the way you look in the morning.

"And like hearing yours." He smiles, and you do the same, the sound of a laugh catching in your throat as he flips over, switching your positions. He's grinning as he presses soft kisses to your neck, and he tries his best to savor the feeling of his lips on your skin. Your hands move over his back and shoulders with touches that alternate between light fingers, skimming over his muscles, and soft hands gripping him tight.

Dick moves his attention to your collarbone, and you chuckle when his hair falls forward, tickling your shoulders. "Get yourself up here, Grayson." He loves the way you say it, and he does as he's told, bringing his lips up to meet yours.

"How ‘bout, I make us breakfast, and we can finish this later?" He stares down at you with gentle eyes, watching as you think it over. Your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and Dick knows more than anything that he would do whatever it took to stay in this moment with you.

"You've got yourself a deal." A Cheshire cat-like smile graces your lips, as you say it, making Dick's stomach do flips.

"What would you like me to make?" He knows the answer already because you give him the same one every time he asks. He only offers you the question so he can stay in bed with you a little while longer.

"You know what I want Grayson, you always do."

Dick raises an eyebrow, fingers running up and down your arm with featherlight touches. "That's an expensive meal you're asking for baby, it'll cost you."

He watches as you bite your lip, the look in your eyes now forever being one of his favourites, before you pull him down into a kiss. It starts soft, sweet, and full of all your affections, but changes soon to something needy and passionate, a feeling so good that it's criminal.

When you pull back for air, you keep him close, arms over his shoulders. "How much does it cost now?"

You smile again, and Dick releases a breathy laugh, moving a hand up to touch your cheek. "Just give me a few more of those, and you have yourself a free meal."

With no hesitation you pull him back toward you, lips melting into his. You were perfect for him, and the feelings that consumed Dick at that moment were still left unmatched.

That's his favourite memory of you, and he recalls it in detail whilst he burns his third plate of food this week. He can't focus on anything other than what he's lost, and he knows he has no one to blame for that but himself. He tried blaming you. He thought if he did, then maybe it wouldn't hurt as much. Maybe he could create some reason in his mind, an explanation for why he did what he did. You had your flaws, but Dick loved every one of them, and there's nothing he can use to pin his pain on you, even if you are the source of it.

When Rachel enters the kitchen Dick hardly notices until he's turned around to see her sitting at the marble island. He puts his plate down, dumping the pan in the sink.

"That's really what you're eating?" Rachel screws up her nose as she watches Dick stand with his back against the counter, plate back in his hand as he takes a small bite of the charred meal. "Did you cook that on a barbecue or something?"

Dick just shrugs, trying to offer the young girl a smile. "It tastes alright." It's a lie and an obvious one at that.

"Dick, put that down, Jesus." Rachel stands, making her way over to him and dumping his plate in the sink. She turns to the fruit bowl on the kitchen island and chucks him an apple. "I can't sit here and watch you eat shit. What was that even supposed to be, anyway?"

Dick grumbles as he watches his meal submerge itself into the water-filled sink, "It was meant to be an omelette, and you didn't have to watch me eat it."

Rachel gives him a pointed look. "That was not an omelette."

Dick turns his gaze away from the burnt, sunken, pile, allowing himself to return Rachel's stare. "I didn't say it was an omelette, I said that's what it was meant to be."

"Well, that doesn't matter." Rachel waves him off, and suddenly her expression changes to one of concern, though it's not directed at him. "I need to tell you something."

"Yeah?" He takes a bite of the apple in his hands, and Dick has to admit that it's a thousand times better than what he had attempted to eat before.

"It's about Y/N."

At the sound of your name Dick almost chokes, but he masks it with a cough, placing the apple on the counter. "What about her?"

Rachel eyes him cautiously, elbows resting on the marble countertop. "Gar and I saw her the other day, at the grocery store, and—" she pauses, frowning at Dick in a way he can't describe. It's something between pity and blame. "You really did a number on her, didn't you?"

Dick stays silent. He knows what he did to you, how he broke your heart. It haunts him every day.

"Aren't you going to ask how she is? Don't you care?" There are tears in Rachel's eyes, and for the first time in since Dick broke it off with you, he remembers how close the two of you had been. Rachel loved you, always stealing you away from him to talk 'girl stuff' in her room or to ask for advice. He'd been so stuck in his own self-pity to remember that.

"I care, Rachel, I do." He finds it hard to look at the girl, her face a reminder of every person he's let down. He wants to ask how you are, but he's afraid of the answer. Rachel tells him anyway.

"You broke her, you know that, right? She loved you so much."

Dick can only nod, her words breaking him down like a chisel to stone.

"I know, Rachel."

She stands, unable to contain her emotions, and stares him down, disappointment in her eyes. Rachel lowers her voice, the sound of heartbreak itself. "She wanted to marry you, Dick. She loved you that much."

That's his breaking point, words that Dick already knew deep down, solidified in the air between him and Rachel Roth. He turns away, pushing down the lump in his throat at the thought of you, walking down the aisle to him. It was something you'd planned together but never gone through with. Five years of love left to rot in the form of half-made wedding plans and late-night conversations.

"She still loves you Dick, and I know you love her too. You can fix this, but you've gotta do it soon." He listens as Rachel's footsteps recede down the hall, leaving him with tears he knows are about to fall.

Dick's hands rest atop the steering wheel, his eyes on the road with you beside him in the passenger seat. You look beautiful, and your smile is wider than usual when he turns to spare a glance at you.

"They looked so happy, didn't they?" You look at him as you say it, locking your eyes with his before he is forced to turn back to the road. By they, you mean the two friends of yours you just witnessed getting married, vows, flowers, and wedding cake enveloping your mind.

"I've never been a fan of weddings, but I think I'd like to get married one day." You sound so dreamy, so in love with the concept at that moment, and Dick lets a laugh escape into the air of the car.

"Nice subtle hint you dropped there."

He sees your head turn back to him in his peripheral, a smile wide on his lips that he can't seem to remove.

"That makes it sound like you're not interested in marrying me. Am I not wife material, Dick Grayson?" You've got a hand over your heart in mock offense as you say it and Dick drums his fingers against the steering wheel, preparing himself for what he's about to say.

"Don't worry baby, I have every intention of marrying you," He dares to risk another look in your direction, greeted by the wide smile on your lips, "if you're up for it of course."

He watches your nose scrunch up, your smile widening before you place a hand on his cheek, nudging him back to face the road. "You can't marry me if we die in a car crash, Grayson, eyes on the prize, baby."

Dick raises an eyebrow, smirk on his lips "You are my prize."

You laugh at that, resting your head on the seatbelt. Dick doesn't know how you find it comfortable, but you act as though it is. "Mrs. Grayson," You mumble, the words making Dick's stomach turn in excitement. "It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

His cheeks hurt, aching with the overload of elation Dick feels. He reaches over to you, placing his hand in yours, the other on the wheel. "I like the way that sounds," He mutters, "can you say it again?"

After that conversation, everything was different in a good way. Dick knew where he stood with you, and he knew how much he really wanted everything to work out. The fact you wanted him the same was what made everything perfect, even if the two of you weren't. You were two flawed people who somehow made each other whole, and with each memory that Dick turned over in his head, the reason he had ruined that grew fainter. He blamed it on his loving you too much, but perhaps the problem lay in Dick's fear that you might leave him when you promised to stay.

Right now, he's in the middle of a staring contest with his phone as it sits innocently on the coffee table. He wants to grab it, strangle it in his hand, and call you for one last shot. He wants to ask for your forgiveness. He wants to kiss your lips again and never let you go. He can't let you go. It's impossible to love someone as much as he loves you and not have them stick to you like glue.

The last time he called you, you didn't answer. He thought you'd moved on, quicker than he ever thought you could, but what Rachel so bittersweetly informed him of contradicts everything he thought he knew. There's a chance that you still want him, that you're still willing to be his person, and that's a chance he's willing to take.

He picks up the phone and slips it into his pocket, praying that he hasn't ruined the only thing he really needs as he heads for the elevator. It's risky, and by the time he's made it to his car, his hands are shaking. He can't reach over the centre console and hold your hand in his this time. He ruined that. And he has to fix it alone.

Dick Grayson can't breathe. He's trying to make sense of the situation before him, you standing in the doorway of your apartment, whilst Dick is in the hall mouth agape. He watches your eyes widen, the initial shock of seeing him settling upon you before you slam the door in his face.

That snaps him out of whatever trace he was stuck in, and he knocks one once more, calling out. "Y/N, please open the door."

He hears you shuffling around on the other side of the door, the faint sound of a sob hitting him with the force of a tidal wave. It rips down his defences, scratching at his skin until he's banging on the door again. He's desperate to get to you if it's the last thing he does.

"Y/N, come on baby, let me in."

"Why should I?" You shout back, voice breaking in the process. Dick ceases his movements, forehead resting against the door in defeat. He wanted this to happen differently. He wanted everything between you to end differently. He didn't want it to end at all.

"We need to talk, Y/N please, I'm begging you, open the door."

His heart tears open with every word, hands rested on firmly on the wood before him, until finally, the doorknob turns.

The door is left open by about an inch, an invitation for Dick to let himself in. He does so with relief, but when he steps inside, you've placed yourself halfway across the living room, a clear indication that even though he's allowed in, you still need space. Your arms are folded around yourself like some kind of protective barrier between you and him.

"I'm sorry." The words are pathetic and not nearly enough to excuse all he's done. "I'm so sorry."

You're staring him down, unblinking as if you're afraid doing so will make your tears fall faster. Dick hates himself, and pure burning disgust for his own being runs through his veins when you speak.

"Why? Why did you do it?"

Dick wants to be sick right there on your carpeted floor, but he stays strong for you. He'll try to for as long as he can.

"I didn't want what I do to put you in danger." He stands straighter, pushing back the lump in his throat, trying to keep what it means at bay. "I didn't want to see you get hurt because of me."

You let out a shallow laugh, casting your eyes across the ground. The whole situation seems so dark, lonely, and broken, and Dick supposes that represents both of you perfectly.

"Are you hearing yourself, Dick?" You look up at him, and it's impossible for Dick to interpret the emotion behind your eyes. There's too much of it to see through. "You did the one thing that could actually hurt me."

He can't think of anything to say to that. Dick wants to say sorry again, but it won't do any good. He knows that now. He stares at you with sorrow and disbelief, unable to form a single word. He came here to tell you he still loves you, but he doesn't know if you'll want to hear it.

"I thought you wanted me. I thought we had it all planned out." You swallow harshly, collecting yourself and Dick watches the tears roll down your cheeks, watches the way they are highlighted by the light reflecting off of them. He did that to you.

"I still want you, I do." Dick wants to move forward, but he knows it's not a good choice to make. "I want to go through with everything, all the plans we made. I want to marry you." It's abruptly spoken, and his voice shakes. His own tears prick against his eyes, and he pushes them back as best he can.

"If you wanted me, why'd you leave?" Your voice inches up in volume, and your arms fold around your body tighter, protecting yourself from the man who swore to protect you.

There's nothing Dick can say but the truth. He can't hide behind half of it, say only what he wants to believe, not anymore.

"I was scared you'd leave me first, okay? I was afraid I'd lose you to something I couldn't control, and I let that fear control me."

His tears forge a path down his cheeks, hot against his skin, his voice raising itself considerably, another thing he can't stop. "I didn't want to pull out a ring, and have you say no."

"I would've said yes. You know that." You're shaking your head in disbelief, taking small steps in his direction. "You know more than anything just how much I love you. I would've said yes."

You still sound angry with him, but your voice is softer, and with each second Dick finds it harder to breathe. He remembers everything so clearly, the five years he spent loving you that he threw away in one night.

"I didn't want to lose you, and I felt like it was going to happen, so I thought why not sooner rather than later?" His eyes burn, and he sucks in another breath to hold against his chest. "I regret everything I said to you that night. I fucked up, but I still fucking love you."

"I love you too." You're still miles from him, halfway across the room, and Dick wants to reach for you and make things right.

"It can't go back to the way it was, Dick." Your words cut deep, pulling at his heart like someone to a harp’s strings. "You have to earn it."

He takes in your words, breathing in his punishment. He's willing to do whatever it takes to get back to the place he was with you before. "Just give me one chance, Y/N, I won't fuck it up this time. I promise."

Your eyes scan over him as if accessing a threat and Dick hates that you see him that way now. "One chance."

And just like that relief floods his veins, his body loosening as you make your way to him, steps slow with caution. Once close enough, Dick reaches out, at peace when you move into his arms. With eyes shut tightly, he presses a kiss to your hair, tears still forcing themselves from his eyes in silence. "I'm so sorry." His words are muffled, and you stay quiet, but somehow that's enough.

AN: I literally hate this ending.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreads @hiya-its-amber @s00buwu

TITANS TAGLIST:

DICK GRAYSON TAGLIST:

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marmalademouse · 6 months

Text

I finally read Good Omens!🥳

Although I already knew a lot of book facts, just from being in the GO fandom, there were still quite a few aspects, that surprised me for one reason or another. So here are the notes I took while reading.

!Spoilers for the book “Good Omens” by Neil Gaiman!

Things that surprised me:

God is referred to as He?! (But I might have misinterpreted that?)

Nanny!Crowley has a gray dog named Rover with scarlet eyes.

Aziraphale & Crowley take on more roles during their time with Warlock, than it is shown in the show. Nanny!Crowley and gardener!Aziraphale leave, and return as Warlock’s tutors, Mr. Harrison (Crowley) and Mr. Cortese (Aziraphale).

Crowley is the one who resurrects the dead dove, that doesn’t survive Warlock’s birthday and Aziraphale’s magic show.😌

It is stated that Crowley isn’t good with animals. (Apparently he used to fall off of horses.)

In the book we get an answer on the whereabouts of the third baby. The boy lives in Tadfield as well. Adam calls him Greasy Johnson and he is the leader of another group of children in town.

Adam has a sister named Sarah!

Contrary to its portrayal in the show, Crowley’s flat is described as rather bright, with white walls and a white leather sofa.

Crowley met Leonardo da Vinci and explained “the helicopter thing” to him. One more example of Crowley’s strange bits of knowledge of the future.

The bookshop collapses completely during the fire.

Aziraphale briefly occupies multiple other bodies, before he stays with Madame Tracy, which was extremely funny to read.

Crowley doesn’t go to a pub after the fire and therefore he doesn’t encounter the disembodied Aziraphale. But later on it reads: “He [Crowley] might just as well find a nice little restaurant and get completely and utterly pissed out of his mind while he waited for the world to end.” So I guess they took Crowley’s musings from the book and made them reality in the show.

Crowley has bright red eyes while driving the burning Bentley.

Metatron was at the air force base and he appeared as a young man.

The wings of demons are the same as angels, however they are often better groomed. So book!Crowley’s current wings are white as well?

Satan never appears in person.

They don’t switch bodies/ appearances!!!

Unlike the show, the book doesn’t end with the nightingale line. The book ends with Adam, which is fitting in more than one way. Reading the book after watching s1 and especially after s2, makes it a bit difficult at times to acknowledge that the story/ the book is mainly about Adam, the Antichrist and the apocalypse, and only secondarily about an angel and a demon.

And then there are all the things that aren’t in the book…at all... Crowley doesn’t miracle away the paint on Aziraphale’s coat. No nose to nose scene in the former nunnery. No bandstand break-up scene. No “And when I’m off in the stars I won’t even think about you.”. No “Somebody killed my best friend.”. … And no flashbacks!!!🤯

Things I assumed were fanfiction inventions or fan’s headcanons, but turned out to be real:

It is explicitly mentioned, that Aziraphale has “elegantly manicured hands”!

Crowley loves the TV show “Golden Girls”.

I was sure all the posts, I read about Anathema’s thoughts on Crowley and Aziraphale, when they drove her home after the accident, were just fan headcanons. However she is indeed unsure what to make of the two (in her view) men, who picked her up. She even tells them that she has a bread knife at hand to defend herself if need be. But when Crowley says “Goodnight, miss. Get in, angel.”, she thinks “Ah. Well, that explained it. She had been perfectly safe after all.” 🤭

“For Go-, for Sa-, for somebody’s sake” is a book thing as well!!

Apparently wing grooming is canon. 😅

WTF- and 🥰-moments:

Nanny!Crowley’s description: “Something about her might have said nanny (…) It also coughed discreetly and muttered that she could well be the sort of nanny who advertises unspecified but strangely explicit services in certain magazines.” 👀😳😘

The scene when Crowley says goodbye to Aziraphale, who just found Anathema’s book in the car, broke my heart a little bit: “He [Aziraphale] fumbled for his keys, dropped them on the pavement, picked them up, dropped them again, and hurried to the shop door. “We’ll be in touch then, shall we?” Crowley called after him. Aziraphale paused in the act of turning the key. “What?” he said. “Oh. Oh. Yes. Fine. Jolly good.” And he slammed the door. “Right,” mumbled Crowley, suddenly feeling very alone.”

Adam argues with Metatron and Beelzebub about him not wanting to rule the world and says: “I’m pointing out things. Seems to me you can’t blame people for pointing out things.” This reminded me of angel!Crowley, who had only asked some questions, who had just pointed out things…😢

“He smiled at Crowley. “I’d just like to say,” he said, “if we don’t get out of this, that… I’ll have known, deep down inside, that there was a spark of goodness in you.” (…) Aziraphale held out his hand. “Nice knowing you,” he said. Crowley took it. “Here is to the next time,” he said. “And… Aziraphale?” “Yes.” “Just remember I’ll have known that, deep down inside, you were just enough of a bastard to be worth liking.” 😩😍I loved the whole passage, and for some reason I always thought it was “worth knowing” and not “worth liking”.

Towards the end, Aziraphale tells Crowley, that there are new books in his bookshop, books he never chose himself, due to Adam putting the world back together a bit differently than it was before. And then we get this: “Gosh, I’m sorry.”, said Crowley, who knew how much the angel had treasured his book collection.🥺

Book details used in season 2:

The season 2 conversation between Crowley & Aziraphale, in Scotland during the 1827 flashback, about people having the chance to choose between good and evil, is from the book.

In the book there is a witchfinder named Mr. Dalrymple, which is the name of the surgeon in Edinburgh in 1827. I doubt it is the same person though.?

In episode 6 of season 2 Crowley says to Muriel: “Angels are like bees. Fiercely protective of their hive if you’re trying to get in. (…)” In the book it says: “Sometimes human beings are very much like bees. Bees are fiercely protective of their hive, provided you are outside it. (...)”

Evidently Neil used some details of the book, which weren’t incorporated in season 1, for season 2, and now I’m super curious which remaining elements (if any) he will pick for season 3.

I know these are no new observations or groundbreaking thoughts, but I wanted to document my experience reading the book for the first time.😊

#good omens #book good omens #book good omens spoilers #book omens #book omens spoilers #english is not my first language so please excuse any mistakes #sorry for the long post... maybe it is of interest for some people :o

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thealogie · 13 days

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Thea the untamed rpf got ao3 banned in china I'm sorry but if GO wins it'll be a hollow and undeserved victory. The Untamed is so much worse than in basically every arena (I say this but it's a case of a big fandom with high highs and low lows. the best and the worst people, etc). The wanks are toxic, the factions are hostile, there's something wild brewing between the people who think switching is ok and people who are strictly into canon dynamics. GO is too small and into A/C to compete.

Yes I get the untamed fandom has operatic reach. It has real politics, drama, storylines, and involves real world politics etc. but sometimes you gotta lose to an annoying little pipsqueak that could. And that’s the fundamental good omens story, baby. Both inside the text and metatextually, good omens is the story of annoying little losers without much consequence who are going to win through the sheer power of sticking around and being annoying. So in a way, only good omens deserves this one.

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ticklishfiend · 7 months

Text

A Plan Fit for an Angel (Good Omens)

(Lee! Aziraphale/Ler!Crowley) (brief lee!crowley/ler!aziraphale)

Summary : Crowley’s dignity was positively shattered being tickled by Aziraphale two weeks ago. Well, only one way to fix that: getting revenge. [see part one here! this is a sequel]

a/n : i lobe them sm

Word Count : 3626

hope u enjoy! :)

. . .

There are two types of demons: Those that like to strike as soon as they see their target, and those that plan their evil-doings methodically, thinking out every angle so they can strike their prey when they least expect it.

It might shock some to find that Crowley tends to lean more towards the latter.

It had been two weeks since Aziraphale had pestered Crowley with those god-awful jokes, relishing in his demon’s irritation. Two weeks since Crowley had been tickled into the couch cushions so Aziraphale could win an argument.

So for two weeks, Crowley has been planning.

And planning for Crowley doesn’t mean he just thought real long and hard about how he’d make his move. No, planning requires research. Lots and lots of research.

Tickling isn’t something Crowley would call a regular occurance between the two of them. Yes, it happens, has happened, but if you were to ask for something defining that they do together, tickling would be quite low on his list, if it made it there at all.

So maybe, before he strikes, he’ll need something of a…refresher.

Aziraphale stood in the bookshop’s tiny kitchen, making himself a cup of tea. Crowley stood at the doorway, wondering if his angel knew he was there.

“I know you’re there, yknow?”

Ah. So he does.

Doesn’t matter. He knows Aziraphale will continue to read through his book on the counter, waiting for his water to heat in the kettle like Crowley wasn’t even there. He was too comfortable in Crowley’s presence…making him far easier to attack.

So Crowley sauntered behind Aziraphale, miracling up a feather from his wing. He heard a page being flipped.

“Whatcha readin’?” Crowley asked, before placing the feather under Aziraphale’s shirt without having to move a finger. Real magic truly was the best thing since sliced bread (trust him, he was there when it happened, sliced bread was quite the invention for the time).

“Oh it’s a lovely book, I’ve read it many times but somehow I keep coming back to it. Georgette Heyer’s ‘The Black Moth.’ Quite a page turner; it takes place in 1751, during the—AH-!” Aziraphale flinched, his right arm gluing itself to his side.

Crowley smirked behind Aziraphale, still looking over his shoulder at the book. His finger waggled near Aziraphale’s coat, a magic tether traveling from it to the feather. “What was that, angel?”

“Er, nothing I just—well I think there may be something in my shirt. I do hope it’s not a bug,” Aziraphale said, before snapping his fingers. A feather floated down onto the pages of his book. A black feather, to be precise.

Aziraphale clicked his tongue. “I see.”

“How peculiar,” Crowley grinned. “Wonder how that got in there?” He walked right out of the room to avoid further accusations, all of which would probably be correct.

Stage one: complete.

Now onto stage two. Snake time, baby.

Crowley very rarely switched to his snake form these days. Really no need, plus any time he did he was usually beaten within an inch of discorporation by a horrified human. So no, he doesn’t typically take his snake form anymore.

But occasionally, when he’s feeling rather…well, one might use the word clingy (Crowley detests such accusations), he’ll be a snake for a few hours just for the excuse to curl up on Aziraphale’s lap while he reads.

This usually embarrasses Crowley, not exactly one open to admitting his love of cuddles and pets and head scratches. Which is why he’s especially excited about snake time today, since he’s getting to embarrass Aziraphale this time and not the other way around.

He’d taken his form around 20 minutes ago, giving himself time to adjust to the change and alert Aziraphale of his body today. When he heard, Aziraphale went and made a cozy spot for himself on the couch, beginning to read his book. It was a silent code to Crowley that Aziraphale was ready for cuddles whenever he was.

It was no surprise when Crowley slithered his way onto the couch, his now curled body finding purchase on Aziraphale’s lap. The angel got to petting, resting his book along the serpent’s scaled back. He scritched softly at Crowley’s head, running his hand down the length of his now much longer body.

Crowley almost got lost in the comfy-ness of it all when he felt Aziraphale stray too close to his underside, a sensitive area on both of his bodies. Ohohoh, the plan, yes right, I’ll get on that now.

With the sneakiness only a serpent could possess, he slowly moved his tail around until he found the area buttons can’t close up on Aziraphale’s shirt, and slithered his way in. Bingo.

He only allowed himself about an inch’s worth of entry, can’t get too confident now. He waited a few moments, listening for Aziraphale to stir or speak up. He didn’t move, though, so that’s a good sign. Now he can strike.

Crowley fluttered his tail back and forth, like a rattlesnake in slow motion. Aziraphale huffed.

“Is that you down there?” He asked, voice a little wobbly like trying to hold something back. Got ‘em.

“Is what me?” Crowley said in his tired, I’m-far-too-comfortable-to-care voice.

“It is you!” Aziraphale let out a giggle through his words, moving Crowley around in his lap to stop the incessant tickling that was still taking place on his lower belly. “Aha-! Crowley, stop!”

“I really don’t know what you mean,” Crowley yawned. “And stop moving me, m’comfortable.”

“I will not!” Finally, Aziraphale found the end of Crowley’s tail, pulling it out of his shirt and readjusting Crowley in his lap. “Now you stop that or I will be putting you off to the side.”

Crowley huffed, his body adjusting under his head in a way that almost looked like his head was laying in his arms. “Whatever. Didn’t even do it anyways. Punishing me for something I didn’t do? Now that’s just cruel.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, going back to petting Crowley while fixing his gaze back on his book.

Well, he really didn’t wanna risk ending this. Might as well enjoy it and plan for the next stage in his great scheme.

Which, as it happened, took place the very next day, snake Crowley no more.

Aziraphale sat on his favorite chair, listening to a record he recently bought at Maggie’s shop. He was the picture of content.

Crowley was bouncing on his heels ready to ruffle the angel’s feathers.

“Mmyes, some good ole’ Stravinsky. Rather liked that guy, with the whole y’know, riot debacle,” Crowley made his way around Aziraphale’s chair, leaning against its back. “Great fun that was.”

“Yes, that was a rather difficult event. I was there, you know, but I truly was only there to see the show,” said Aziraphale.

Crowley hummed, having heard the story before. He looked at Aziraphale’s ear below him, giving a puzzled look.

“What’s that in your ear?”

Aziraphale furrowed. “My ear?”

“Yes yes, there’s something in your ear.”

Aziraphale’s hand shot up to feel around his ear, “Where?”

“No you—you’re missing it, it’s nothing but a piece of fuzz, I think. Here, let me-“ He shooed Aziraphale’s hand away, before using his pointer to gently prod and scrape along the shell of his ear.

Aziraphale’s shoulder shot up. “Aha, wait, wait—there’s really no neheheed-“ He batted at Crowley’s hand, but couldn’t dissuade him.

“No seriously, I can get it if you just give me a moment-“ he wiggled the finger, and this time Aziraphale shot out of his chair with a quick giggle before turning and giving Crowley a pointed look.

“You’re messing with me,” Aziraphale straightened his coat before giving his ear a quick scratch. There was a smile small on the corner of his lips.

“Now why would I do that?”

Aziraphale shot him a look, “I’m not sure, but I know that’s what you were doing.”

Crowley walked toward Aziraphale until they were eye to eye. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, before walking out.

Stage three: complete, but Aziraphale was definitely onto him now. Time to set the real plan in motion.

Like it started, Crowley’s plan took place in the back room, wine in each of their hands as they talked and bickered and laughed with each other.

After having made Aziraphale laugh at one of his favorite stories to tell, Crowley smiled and remembered. Admittedly he had gotten a bit tipsy and nearly forgot about the whole thing until he saw his angel folding over in laughter just moments ago. Made him remember what this was all for.

He glanced over at the desk, noting Aziraphale’s current book having a very familiar bookmark peeking out of its pages. He had actually noticed this days ago, but was waiting until now to bring it up. Clever demon, he thought.

“What’s that there in your book?” He gestured lazily at it, sitting up like it was of great intrigue to him.

“Oh that’s…” Aziraphale looked at the book, like it was the first time he’d noticed it there. “Well, it’s my bookmark, of course.”

“Mmyes obviously it’s your bookmark. I meant what is it, exactly? Cause I don't know if I recognize this one.”

Aziraphale looked a bit flustered. “Erm, well it’s…it’s a feather, actually. But it works just as nicely as a bookmark.”

Crowley hummed. “Aren’t your feathers white, angel?”

Aziraphale looked without words for a moment (oh how Crowley just loved flustering his angel), before straightening his back with newfound confidence. “Well I didn’t say it was my feather, did I?”

“No, you’re right, you didn’t,” Crowley said, resting his chin in his palm as he relaxed over the arm of the sofa. Sometimes he likes letting Aziraphale think he’s won before pulling the rug out from underneath him. “Is it mine?”

Aziraphale was definitely blushing now, but he stayed on guard. “Yes, it is. You…put that blasted thing in my shirt the other day when I wasn’t looking. When it fell into my book I…well, I didn’t have a bookmark before and then I did. It’s really as simple as that.” He smiled at Crowley all clever, taking a sip from his wine.

Crowley gave Aziraphale a puzzled look. “You think I put that in there?”

Aziraphale blinked. “Well obviously. You’ve been messing with me for days.”

Crowley smirked. “Have I now?”

Aziraphale glared at him. His eyes were a bit squinted, very suspicious. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything. You’re accusing me of something I have no recollection of. I’m just asking how you think I was messing with you,” said Crowley, thinking ‘that’s right, lure him in.’

Aziraphale hesitated, like treading over thin ice. “…you’ve been teasing me, and you know it. You—you’re doing it now!”

Crowley couldn’t hold back his grin anymore. “I mean, can you blame me?” said Crowley before standing abruptly. He took a swig from the bottle, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and sat it hard against the table. “You messed with a demon angel. You never mess with a demon.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. He set himself back further into his chair, hands holding onto the arms.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Ohh, don't act all innocent now. You were quite the tease a couple weeks ago, as I remember,” Crowley pointed a finger at Aziraphale, who actually started…grinning.

“You’re still worked up over that, aren’t you?” Aziraphale asked, a clever smile taking him.

“No—no, that’s not what I mean-“

“Oh I’m sure. But you can’t really deny that apparently, you’ve been thinking about this quite a lot,” Aziraphale looked as smug as ever.

Crowley was admittedly a little stuck for words at the moment. His mouth formed around rebuttals but they never made it past his throat.

He growled before rushing over and grabbing Aziraphale by the lapels.

“Maybe so—but only because I needed to plan out exactly how I was going to get you back,” Crowley growled, grip tight on Aziraphale’s coat. He liked how nervous the angel suddenly looked. “Like I said, angel. You don’t tease a demon.”

Crowley let go of him, walking back and almost pacing in thought. He waggled a finger in the air, “But I can’t do it now. No, no you’re expecting it now. I’ve gotta get you when you’re totally off your guard,” He plopped himself back down on the couch, pointedly not looking at Aziraphale.

“So…you’re not tickling me now?” Aziraphale raised a brow his way, taking a slow sip.

“No, I’m not.”

Aziraphale shrugged, placing his glass on the table. “I’d let you.”

Crowley paused. He looked at Aziraphale like the angel had grown an extra arm. “You’d let me?”

“Well, yes. I don’t actually hate being tickled. You just keep doing it when I’m in the middle of something, or I’m trying to relax,” he said, which was the last thing Crowley was expecting. “If you just asked I’d be happy to oblige.”

Crowley was near seething. He wasn’t actually mad, just utterly irritated by how nonchalant Aziraphale could be about the whole thing. Crowley was beyond embarrassed when Aziraphale tickled him the other week. How could someone not be embarrassed by it?

Crowley shook his head, “It’s the principle of the thing. You tickled me when I wasn’t ready, I’ve got to do the same back,” Crowley took a much needed swig. “S’how revenge works, angel.”

“Be my guest then. I’m happy to wait,” Aziraphale grinned, so pleased with how quickly things had turned in his favor. Sure, he was still going to get tickled eventually. But now he knows the real context.

Crowley was still so flustered over his little tickle attack the other week, that he had been meticulously planning on how to get Aziraphale back just to regain his dignity. He couldn’t deny how adorable that much effort and thought was.

Crowley grumbled, throwing his head against the back of the couch. “Grrrrbut it’s not as fun now,” he slumped. “Now you know it’s gonna happen. Shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yes, maybe you shouldn’t have,” Aziraphale said. “Because now, once you do tickle me, I’ll have no choice but to tickle you back immediately after.”

Crowley gaped at him, actually letting out a low chuckle. “Oh really? Well that’s not fair, is it? Supposed to be tit-for-tat, don’t you think?”

“No, no I don’t think so. See, it doesn’t affect me nearly as much as it does you. That’s the fun in it.”

“It does not affect me. S’just not right for a demon to have such a weakness. Makes sense when you’re an angel, s’why you don’t give a shit.”

“I’ll have you know it’s perfectly normal for a demon to be ticklish. I tease you for it because it’s fun, but it’s not like you can help it. It’s your vessel, dear. And it’s a vessel I think you should take much more pride in than you’re giving it right now.”

Crowley just grumbled again, not really having a good response. He knows he can’t help it, but it’s still so…weird. It’s not just because he’s a ticklish demon. It’s that he’s a ticklish demon who actually finds it a little bit fun when his angel is the one tickling him. That’s the part that’s got him all screwy.

But it’s not like he could just say that.

So he stewed for a bit, thankful for Aziraphale allowing him his stew time in peace. The angel sat contentedly, sipping on his wine and basking in the lovely tension their bookshop always seemed to hold.

Crowley stewed and stewed. Pinching his lips together, sipping on the wine, reaching over and filling Aziraphale’s glass when he realized it had gone empty. But he had to say something eventually, because obviously Aziraphale wasn’t going to speak first.

And also because he kind of still wanted this to happen. Just a little.

“Fine.”

Aziraphale looked up. “Fine?”

“Yes, fine, whatever, just get over here and let me get my fffffucking revenge already.”

Aziraphale grinned, already beginning to stand. “I thought you said I couldn’t expect it when you get your revenge?”

“Oh that’s still gonna happen,” He smiled as Aziraphale sat next to him, the demon already crawling into his space.

“You do remember I’m getting you back as soon as you’re done, right?” Aziraphale said with a nervous titter in his voice, backing up towards the arm of the couch.

“Yeah I know. Guess that just means I’ve gotta make this count,” Crowley said as he fully closed in on Aziraphale, cornering him into the couch. He just hovered, for a moment, his hands floating over Aziraphale without touching him.

Aziraphale swallowed. “Well…?”

Crowley grinned. “Well, what?” He wiggled his fingers, and Aziraphale tittered anxiously.

“Are you going to…?”

“Can’t say it now?” Crowley’s eyes were devilish as he smirked. “Is someone getting nervous now that I’ve got him cornered?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, a meek attempt at confidence over the situation. His slight squirming and tight lipped smile gave him away. “No.”

“No?” Crowley asked, before jerking his hand down near Aziraphale’s side, laughing at Aziraphale’s flinch. “I haven’t even touched you!”

“But you’re going to!” Aziraphale practically whined, a ghost of a giggle lacing his voice. “Just get on with it, I’m not sure I can take this.”

Crowley smiled genuinely. “Oh alright. But just because it’s you.”

Finally, after waiting oh so patiently for this moment the past two weeks, Crowley struck. He went straight for Aziraphale’s sides, thankfully unguarded since the angel had taken his vest off hours ago. Aziraphale yipped, trying to hold in his laughs for a brief moment before falling into those angelic cackles Crowley could eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

“AH! Ahaha—Crohowley!” he laughed, sliding down unconsciously and only stretching his body out more for Crowley. “Wahahait!”

“Oh no, I’ve done plenty of waiting recently,” Crowley said, delivering sporadic pokes up and down Aziraphale’s torso, the angel’s cackles shooting up as he did so. “See, s’not so fun when it’s you getting tickled, huh?”

“It’s fuhuhun! Just—“ he was cut off by his own loud laughter as Crowley shot his hands into his armpits. Arms slammed against his sides, twisting and turning every which way because it was just too much. “—tihihickles!”

Crowley chuckled, ecstatic. “Bet it does,” he said, pulling one hand out from its trapped state in Aziraphale’s underarm to reach up and give his ear gentle scratches. Aziraphale squeaked, a hand shooting up to protect the ear. Seeing the opportunity, Crowley shot his hand right back under his arm, and Aziraphale shook his head through his laughter and shock.

“Nohot fahahair!” Aziraphale blushed, unsure of what to do with his hands. He opted to batting them around uselessly.

“You’re playing with a demon, angel, what did you expect?” Crowley said, before taking both hands out to squeeze, pinch, poke, prod and scribble all over Aziraphale’s tummy.

Aziraphale’s laughter was all over the place now. It was like he couldn’t decide whether to give deep, belly laughs or squeals and giggles fit for his angelic persona. The tips of Crowley’s ears grew warm at the sound.

“This is hysterical, by the way,” Crowley laughed, pinching Aziraphale’s hips and watching as he barked a laugh, twisting and gripping onto Crowley’s wrists. “I mean I knew you were ticklish, but this is priceless.”

“You’ve made your point!” Aziraphale giggled out helplessly. “I gehehet it! It’s bahahad! It’s sohoho baahahad—!” He fell into a giggle fit that made it impossible to hold a conversation, wheezing pitifully.

“I could keep going, yknow. Show you actual demonic torture,” Crowley grinned when Aziraphale shook his head, cheeks plump and pink from mirth. “Say you’re sorry and I’ll consider it.”

Aziraphale slapped Crowley’s arm playfully. Crowley poked softly but quickly over Aziraphale’s torso, easing up on the tickling just enough for him to get some words out. Aziraphale panted a bit, giggles lacing every breath.

“Okay okhahay! I’m sohohorry!” Aziraphale giggle, pushing Crowley’s hands away from him. Crowley let his hands be moved for just a moment, before giving one last quick squeeze to Aziraphale’s hips just to make him yip.

Crowley smiled down at his angel, watching him catch his breath and try to will away that blush from his cheeks. Aziraphale looked up at Crowley with a pointed expression, “Wily serpent.”

Crowley laughed, “You asked me to!”

“I did not ask you to. You obviously wanted to do it so I…obliged,” Aziraphale shrugged, the lie plain as day on his face. Crowley couldn’t help but snicker.

“Yes, of course. Obliging the temptation of a demon really is your forte, after all,” Crowley teased, laying his front down on Aziraphale’s, making himself comfy. “Had your fun?”

Aziraphale sighed through a smile, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Crowley’s back. “Well…not quite.”

Crowley’s face puzzled before feeling Aziraphale’s grip tighten around his torso. His snake eyes grew twice their size, “C’mon angel, play fair.”

“This is fair. I told you what I’d do if you tickled me,” Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s forehead, not giving him a moment to think about that shit before digging his fingers into the backs of Crowley’s ribs.

“FuhuAHK-!” Crowley jolted, falling into helpless laughter on top of his angel. He squirmed and giggled and held onto Aziraphale’s body even tighter just so he could resist throwing himself off.

“‘Demonic cackle’ my behind,” Aziraphale teased. “You’re far too sweet for that, my dear.”

Crowley blushed, hiding that and his smile in Aziraphale’s neck, not missing the way the angel giggled whenever his nose brushed the skin.

The plan ended up being much more than successful. It was everything Crowley could’ve ever hoped for.

. . .

a/n : hope u enjoyed! consider reblogging if u liked it <3

#tickle community #tickling #tickle fic #good omens #good omens tickling #lee!aziraphale #ler!crowley #lee!crowley #ler!aziraphale #ticklish aziraphale #ticklish crowley

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measuredingold · 9 months

Text

to be in love and to be loved

chapter two: changes

authors note: welcome back! we have successfully made it to chapter two. this one was a bit hard for me to finish because i wanted to get the ball rolling on some things. this chapter switches povs throughout it, but it’ll make sense. was proofread at 1 am so if there’s any mistakes i apologize. as always, enjoy and feedback is always appreciated <3 (p.s. to the person who asked if the title was from a 1d song… it sure is 🖤)

pairing: noah sebastian x ofc x nicholas ruffilo

masterlist / cross-posted on ao3

word count: 9.4k (another doozy)

cw: depicts of anxiety/anxiety attacks, mental health struggles, ~kissing~, lots of angst, 18+ (minors do not interact.)

After his sudden realization, Nicholas learned quickly that he's very good at avoiding things. Like… scary good, actually.

He convinced himself it was the right thing to do, to push those feelings so far into the back of his mind, to the back of his heart, closed off away from the world so things don't get complicated. He can't sit here and say that he hasn't thought about it, because he has, the possibility of him coming out with the truth. It's wishful thinking, but it always makes something stir inside Nicholas, his chest fluttering with excitement. In another life, he thinks, maybe it could work out. Maybe he could be happy. Maybe they could be happy. Together.

He doesn't think this life is as lucky.

So, he avoids it. Acts like it's not there. Things remain the same, for the most part, and Naomi doesn’t bring up the almost kiss. He knows she wants to. Sometimes he finds her watching him when Noah’s not looking, eyes pleading but all he can do is give her a sad smile and look away. As time goes on, she doesn’t silently press anymore, doesn’t give him that look. That’s when he decides that this was the right decision. This is what he needed to do to keep things the same, to keep them here. With him. Even if it wasn’t in the way he wanted it.

He gazes up from the table to find Noah staring at him and glances to his side to find Naomi doing the same. He has to swallow down the impending sadness that seems to be lingering more often these days and puts on a smile, one that they easily return before going back to their conversation while they wait for their food. He feels Naomi's hand settle on his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze as she speaks animatedly to Noah, and he finds himself leaning his head against her shoulder.

He glances over at Noah again, finding the younger boy staring at him with such softness that it almost makes him feel sick, and all he wishes for right now is to reach over and grab ahold of Noah's hand that's laid across the table. His fingers twitch, but he doesn't move.

Nicholas knows he can't keep living this way and knows that one day this might blow up in his face. This won't last forever, but he's content for now and that's all that matters. He'll let himself live in this moment just a little longer, even if it slowly breaks his heart piece by piece.

…

If you had told Noah that in three years he'd leave his old band, start a whole new project that would lead him to his new band, get signed by a pretty popular label, and end up touring for said label well before their debut album is released, he probably would've called you a fucking liar.

Then he’d have to smack himself when he found out it was true.

Sometimes he has to sit and think about how he deserved all of this; despite all the hard work he’s put into this project. It was his baby, at least that’s what Nicholas liked to call it. And yeah, it was. He put his entire being into Bad Omens, working his ass off for months - years, almost - for this to work out, and as his eyes scan the room to find his bandmates and crew turned best-friends, he likes to think it’s worked out so far.

He can't say he's made it yet, but he has a feeling it’s not too far from his reach.

Noah's gaze snaps towards the back of the room where he hears laughter erupting, and warmth spreads itself across his chest and down his arms, all the way to the tips of his fingers. Naomi and Nicholas work together to bring in boxes of merch for tonight's show, and for some reason he has to try and stop himself from smiling as he watches them.

Nicholas was his first supporter, long before Noah had even roped him into being in the band with him. Naomi came next and Noah was forever grateful for them. He wasn't sure where he'd be without their support, love, and patience, and he tries not to think about it too hard, because he knows he wouldn’t be anywhere without them. Well, anywhere good. They kept him anchored.

Naomi wasn't even supposed to be here originally, but she had surprised the whole crew a few days ago with saved up time from work. She took the whole week off to be with them because she knew an extra hand would do them some good. When she told Noah that he remembers how giddy he had felt, and how excited he was to have her there with them.

"Anything for my boys." She had said on the phone. The memory makes his face heat up and his heart thud wildly against his chest.

Noah perks up, eyes narrowing as he watches Nicholas' hand brush against Naomi's back, leaving it there a beat longer for it to be deemed casual. He can see Naomi's cheeks flush all the way from where he stood, and she leans back, tilting her head up to say something to Nicholas. Noah has no clue what she says, too far away to be in ear shot, and his whole body warms at Nicholas having to bend down to whisper something in her ear. He can hear Naomi's laughter.

He’s sure his face is flushed, and he has to force himself to look away. It's so hard, though. He's not angry, not at them at least. He's not even jealous. He's something he can't exactly explain, and he thinks that's what frustrates him the most.

The way Nicholas' touch looked so delicate even all the way over where Noah was made his head spin, especially with how Mimi leaned into him almost instantly. His mind starts up again and before he could stop, he finds himself wondering what it would be like to have the girl pressed up against him... and Nicholas.

He halts his movements when he almost lost his grip on the box he had been carrying but he finds his footing again, slowly sitting the box down on the stage.

This isn't the first time his mind has gone somewhere that's uncharted. The thought of Naomi pressed in between the two boys has slipped through his mind more than a handful of times, and maybe even some with himself in between them...

He shakes his head to make his thoughts stop and he finds Jolly watching him, a brow raised.

"You good?"

Noah gives him a nonchalant shrug that's far from convincing and his eyes find their way back to the merch table before looking back at Jolly. "Yeah, I'm good. Why?"

“Just wondering.” Jolly follows his gaze and his lips quirk up. "You ever going to tell her?"

Noah crouches down to open up the box he had brought to the stage, quickly glancing at Jolly. He regrets having told the boy his feelings for Naomi one drunken night months ago.

"Tell her what?"

"Dude." Jolly looks unimpressed, lips pressed in a line and all Noah can do is sigh.

"What am I supposed to say, man? Hey, I have feelings for you."

"You can literally say that." It's Noah's turn to look unimpressed and Jolly rolls his eyes. "Seriously! That's all you gotta say."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Because it is easy." Jolly shrugs. " She flew across the fucking country to see you. The feeling is mutual."

"If it was that easy, don't you think I would've done it already?" Noah hisses through his teeth, eyes narrowing at Jolly. The older male rolls his eyes, a huff passing his lips. “Plus, she’s here to see all of us. Not just me.”

"Listen, all I'm saying is that you should do it now before someone else comes along." Jolly's gaze shifts between Noah and then the merch table, before looking back at the younger boy.

Noah's jaw tenses and as he glances that way for a second time just as Mimi reached up to mess with Nicholas’ hair. He says something to her, pulling a goofy face, and she throws her head back in laughter. Noah's stomach drops and he forces himself to look away, feeling Jolly's eyes burn against his skin.

"And it’s starting to look like someone already has."

He can't stop the way his heart pounds rapidly against his chest, the sudden wave of anxiety filling his body. Jolly’s just speaking out of his ass, right? There’s no way that that’s true, though, as he continues to watch Naomi and the way Nicholas is looking down at her, the pit in his stomach begins to grow.

He swallows thickly. "Shut up."

"I’m just saying I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Shut up, Joakim.”

Jolly frowns. “Noah-“

"Please for the love of god," He sucks down a deep breath, and he can feel his throat tightening as each second passes, "shut up."

"When did you become so pissy?" Jolly grumbles, mainly to himself, but Noah hears him.

His jaw tenses and he has to shut his eyes briefly, taking in a deep breath. He stands from his crouched position and glares down at Jolly.

"Maybe because you’re always in my fucking business."

Noah can't explain why he's so... pissy, as Jolly put it, but the males words have wormed their way into his mind and it’s making his skin fucking crawl. His hands have balled into fists at his sides and he has to squeeze his fingers together, taking another deep breath before he turns.

"Where are you going?" Jolly calls after him after he hopped off the stage.

"Away from you."

He doesn't know where he's going, but he knew he needed to get out of there. He keeps his head low and just keeps walking, avoiding the worried glances from their crew. He turns a corner and finds an empty hallway, looking around to find that it’s just him and a few empty boxes.

He lets out the breath he had been holding.

Because it is easy. Noah scoffs. Jolly doesn't know what he's talking about. He doesn't see the bigger picture here, because this is more than just Noah having feelings for Naomi. It's about the change that'll follow. Sure, what if Naomi liked Noah back, but Jolly’s words lingered in the back of his mind. What if someone had already beat him there? He groans.

Noah doesn't like change all that much, which is kind of hilarious when he thinks back to his life, but it's true. He likes consistency. He likes stability. Besides Bad Omens (so far), Naomi and Nicholas were the only consistent things in his life. He couldn't risk messing up what they have, the tiny little world they created with just the three of them, for something like this. He's heard stories of people falling for their best friends and everything fucking up, and he'll be damned if he ever lets that happen to him.

"Noah?" Naomi’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he jumps away from the wall, turning to face her. She’s frowning, eyes scanning him up and down before they meet his gaze. “Is everything alright?”

He doesn’t bother answering, slumping back against the wall and running a shaky hand down his face. He hears her shuffle closer and he squeezes his eyes shut. He can't look at her - he refuses. He's embarrassed, ashamed, because the reason he's so fucking upset is because of her. Well, sort of. He's upset with his feelings for her and how he can't convey them properly like a normal fucking human. He lets out a frustrated, shaky breath and runs his hands through his hair and tugs at the ends, something he tends to do when he's anxious.

"Noah, baby, look at me. Come on." Naomi's voice is so gentle, and Noah's throat tightens.

Baby.

The word itself is almost enough to send him spiraling and definitely did not help the pit in his stomach at all, but he looks at her anyways, swallowing down the lump that's beginning to form. Her lips are settled into a frown and he can see the crease in her forehead, the distress on her face. She hasn't seen him like this in months, he thinks.

"I'm gonna need you to take a big deep breath through your nose and out through your mouth.”

Her fingers wrap around his wrists and gives them a hard squeeze, trying to bring Noah back to the present but he just can't. He can't breathe, he can't move, he can't fucking do anything. His chest feels like there's a ten-ton brick placed right in the center of it and there's nothing he can do about it.

"Noah. Breathe."

He tries to suck in a breath, but it just sounds ragged, and he barely notices the tears that slip down his cheeks. He feels his arms being tugged and looks down to find Naomi crouching to settle into a sitting position, trying to bring him down with her. He follows on shaky legs and automatically crosses them. Naomi squeezes his wrists again and he tries to take another breath.

"Lean your head back for me and take another breath." She says quietly and scratches her nails against the inside of his wrists. He visibly shakes, as if he wasn't already, and he has to suck in another ragged breath, but it goes down a little easier than before. "Good. You're doing so good, Noah. Keep going."

So, he does. He takes another deep breath, and another, and then another after that. Noah doesn't know how long they sit there for, Naomi's eyes piercing into his own as she takes the breaths with him. He has to drop his gaze when it starts becoming too much and his chest feels tight again, so instead he shuts his eyes, trying to focus on getting his breathing normal and the soft touch of her thumbs rubbing circles on the inside of his wrists.

It takes a few beats of silence before he finally feels like he can finally breathe slightly normal, his glossy gaze finding hers.

"Oh, Noah. What happened out there?” He almost breaks at her voice, the sadness seeping through as she sits up on her knees, leaning towards him. Her hands cup his cheeks and wipe away the tears that seem to still be falling. "Think you can tell me what's going on?"

He whines in response, head shaking in her hands. Naomi's frown deepens.

"Jolly’s just being an asshole."

“…Are you sure?” She brushes a few strands of hair that's fallen away from his face, "You know you can tell me anything, bub."

"I can't-" His lips press together to try and hold in another whine, eyes brimming with tears again. "I can't tell you this. If... if I do then it could fuck everything up and I can't do that. Not now when things are just starting to work out.”

Her eyes narrow in confusion as she smooths back his hair, fingertips trailing over his cheek. “I’m sure whatever it is it wouldn’t fuck up everything.”

“You don’t know that!” It comes out louder than he anticipated, and his stomach drops at the way Naomi flinches, but she doesn’t pull away from him. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

"Noah, relax." She grips his face gently and tilts his head up to look at her. "It's just me."

He swallows before shakily replying, "That's why I can't tell you."

That has her stilling and he can see the moment her mind comes to screeching halt, body deflating. In the three years he's known her, there's never been a thing he couldn't tell her. Well... a thing he couldn't tell her that he wanted to, and this was one of the things he did not want to tell her.

"Well," She finds her words again, coming back to herself. "I hope that as your best-friend that I've given you a space to always be open and honest with me. Whatever it is, good or bad, you can tell me. We can work it out, whatever you want." Naomi pauses again, lips dipping into a frown. "And if you can't... I understand. I won't pry."

His eyes sting with tears again at her words and he sucks down another ragged breath, throat tightening again. Noah has always hated how understanding Naomi was, and how gentle she can be. It was one of her best and worst attributes because now he feels like the asshole for not telling her how he felt.

"You have to promise me that this won't fuck everything up." He manages to get out. Naomi nods immediately. “Say you promise.”

"I promise."

They stare at each other for a second, then two, then three before Noah's letting out a defeated sigh. Here goes fucking nothing.

"I..." He swallows harshly. "I love you. More than just a friend or whatever and it fucking terrifies me because this... god, this is the closest to normal my life has been in a really long fucking time. Probably the first time ever." Noah lets out a watery laugh. "You... and Nicholas... and this fucking band are so important to me, Mimi, and I'd never want to jeopardize that." Something in Naomi's eyes shift and Noah has to squeeze his shut, too overwhelmed to look at her now as more words tumble from his lips. "That's why I couldn't tell you, because I didn't want to ruin what we have now. I could never forgive myself for doing that."

The silence that follows is deafening. He doesn't dare open his eyes, so he keeps them shut, and he tries to not imagine Naomi's face. He wants her to say something, anything, even if it's to let him down, which is what he's expecting. His heart pounds against his chest when he feels her hands slip from his face and his eyes spring open, preparing to apologize for just ruining everything between them but it never comes.

Instead, he's met with Naomi's lips pressing against his own.

His eyes widen. He doesn't move, can't, not even when she's pulling away, face mere inches from his own. Naomi stares at him expectantly, waiting, full lips slightly swollen from the pressure of the kiss and face a light shade of crimson. Noah can only blink - once, twice, and then a third time before dropping his eyes to her mouth.

He's thought about what it would be like to kiss Naomi, to feel her lips against his own just once. He knows it's corny, but he thought it would be like the movies where fireworks would erupt inside of him, body buzzing from excitement that he's practically shaking, but it was none of that. Actually, it was something better. In those brief moments he's never felt so... at peace. Instead of buzzing with excitement it was a warm feeling that spread throughout his body, starting from his toes expanding all the way to the very top of his head.

"Noah..."

Her voice breaks him out of his head, and he doesn't miss the slight waver to it, like she was on the verge of tears. His eyes find hers again and they're brimmed with tears, but her lips are slowly tugging into a smile now. His chest swirls with excitement and he reaches for her, hands settling on her waist as she slowly climbs into his lap, her legs resting on either side of his hips.

"I know I'm a really good fucking friend, but I hope you know I wouldn't cross this damn country just for anyone." She says through a watery laugh and has to pull away to wipe at her face as more tears fell. Noah's fingers dig into her hips, scared to let her go. She's never been so close before.

He looks up at her with a dazed expression. "...Huh?"

She laughs again, this time much louder, and leans forward to press her forehead against his. Her hands come up to cup his cheeks again, her nose nudging Noah's.

"I love you, you dumbass. I thought it was fucking obvious."

Oh.

Naomi tilts her head forward to brush her lips against his again before pulling back all too soon, acting as if she was too shy to continue even further. He digs his fingers into her hips again without really thinking and loosens his grip, scared he was hurting her. He just needed to make sure she was real. That this was real and not just his fucked-up imagination trying to hurt him. Her eyes flutter shut, and she lets out her own shaky breath, her hands moving from his cheeks to the back of his neck.

Noah's the one who leans in this time, lips slotting against Naomi's. He gets the same feeling that he did just seconds before, the warmth filling his veins, and the feeling of peace engulfing him whole. Naomi lets out a tiny little noise, almost like a whine, and that spurs him on. It's overwhelming, the way her lips feel against his and how natural it feels to have her in his hold, and his arms circle around her waist to bring her that much closer to him.

He needs to feel her everywhere.

"Noah? Mimi?"

Folio's voice has Mimi pulling away from him, eyes glossed over, and lips swollen from the contact. She gives him a sheepish smile before crawling off his lap and he feels himself physically deflate at the loss of contact but knew that the position they were in before would raise a few questions, especially from Nick. Plus, he can't keep his mouth shut, so the second he sees Naomi in Noah's lap it's game over. Everyone in the damn building would know in less than 5 seconds.

She stands and holds a hand out for him which he gladly takes, legs shaky as he stands. He feels better, he thinks, rummaging through his mind for any of those previous anxious thoughts. He finds none and instead realizes the jitteriness is from the kiss, and his face flushes at the thought.

"There you are." Folio sounds relieved as he rounds the corner, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile as he steps into the hallway. "Everything alright?"

Noah glances at Mimi from the corner of his eye and finds her nodding, giving Folio a bright smile.

"Yeah, I think so." She looks up at him now, her smile changing to something softer.

"Uh, yeah." Noah finds his voice finally, clearing his throat and stares at Naomi a beat longer before looking off towards Nick. "Sorry about that.”

Nick shrugs and rubs at his neck sheepishly. "You're good, man. Jolly and I were just teasing you, and we're sorry for, uh... causing this."

"Nah, it's fine. Don't apologize." He waves him off and relief washes over Nick.

"Cool." Folio's eyes scan the two of them briefly before looking up and down the hallway, confusion written all over his face. "Where's Nicholas?"

That has Noah stilling and his eyes dart to Mimi.

"What about him?" She questions, eyebrows scrunching.

"He said he was coming to check on you guys..." His words trail off, head tilting.

"Are you sure he came this way?" Her tone stirs something inside of Noah.

Even if he had come this way, Noah wouldn't have noticed. He was too immersed in Naomi and the way she felt in his hands, in his arms, and the way her lips easily slid over his... His fingers twitch at his sides, the urge to reach out and grab her becoming stronger by the second.

"Huh. I swear I saw him walk this way." Folio says, almost dumbfounded, and his shoulders go up into another shrug. "Oh well. Maybe he's in the bathroom, I don't know. Anyways, glad everything's alright. Do you need anything or...?"

“Uh, nah. I’m good now.” He throws a thumbs up for added emphasis and Folio laughs, giving him one back.

“Sweet.” He looks like he’s about to leave and the stress in Noah’s shoulders drop for just a second before Nick is turning back towards them. “Would I be a dick to ask you to come back and help? We’re kind of struggling without you and Nicholas.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah, I can come help.” He’s almost forgotten why they were here in the first place. They literally have a show in a few short hours. Mimi looks as if she’s just remembered that as well, eyes widening, and Nick laughs at their reactions.

“Thanks, man.”

They all shuffle out of the hallway and back into the main room, seeing only Jolly and a few people from their crew working at setting their gear up. Noah feels bad for running off like that and knows he’ll have to make it up to them tomorrow. He notices Naomi walking the opposite direction out of the corner of his eye and he stops her, fingers circling around her arm.

“We’ll talk later, yeah?” He tries to keep his voice low when he notices Nick stop for a second to watch them before wandering back to the stage. Mimi’s eyes gaze up at him, lips quirking up.

“Of course. If you want.”

“I do.” His hand drops from her arm and briefly brushes her hand, and he has to bite his lip to stop his own smile from growing. “Catch me before the show?”

He doesn’t miss the flush in her cheeks when their fingers brush together and she turns her head. “Okay.”

The pull from each other and Noah can’t help but watch her walk away before finally making his way back to the stage to find both Jolly and Folio staring at him.

“What?” He questions as he pulls himself up on the stage.

“What the hell was that?” Jolly questions, but Noah doesn’t miss the teasing grin on his lips. He blushes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

“Bullshit.” Nick whistles, eyeing Noah before glancing across the room. “I knew something happened in that hallway. You could cut the tension with a fucking knife, bro.”

He laughs it off, but his cheeks beat up even more. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Alright, alright. Enough teasing Noah. We’ve done enough of that today.” Jolly gives Noah a sheepish smile before clapping his hands together. “Let’s hurry and get this shit done.”

…

Nicholas is the first to notice Noah jump off the stage, head down as he practically runs out of the main room. Mimi notices next, back straightening as they both watch Noah run into a hallway, away from view. Something inside him turns and his eyes snap towards Jolly who's already looking at him, lips turned down. The older male shakes his head and mouths "I don't know" before going back to unloading their equipment.

"I'll be right back." He hears Naomi mumble, and before he could respond she's already placing whatever shirt she had been about to hang up down and rushing off.

Nicholas drops the shirt he was holding and turns the opposite direction, marching his way towards the stage, eyes narrowing at Jolly's back.

"Dude, what the fuck did you do?"

Jolly turns around. "Why do you think I did something?"

"Well, you were the last one to talk to him before he fucking ran off." Nicholas throws his arms around before placing his hands on his hips, almost like an angry dad. "What did you say to him?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, bullshit-"

"Nick, calm down." Folio cuts in, coming out from behind his drum set to look down at Nicholas from the stage. "It wasn't anything bad - Noah just freaked out. You know how he is. Mimi's with him so he's probably fine now."

Nicholas presses his lips together and breathes deeply through his nose, trying his very best to calm down. He hates being upset, especially with his friends, but when it comes to Noah, he can't help but be protective.

"I swear it wasn't bad." Jolly's swinging his legs over the side of the stage, sitting in front of him now. "I just... told him to get over whatever he was going through and to tell Mimi how he felt. He kind of freaked out and just... ran off."

His eyes widen at Jolly’s words.

"You wanted him to... tell Mimi how he felt about her?"

Jolly nods. "We're all kind of sick seeing him stare at her like a kicked little puppy and we all know how he feels about her. Why not?"

"And it's not like she doesn't feel the same. We all see how she looks at him. It's kind of gross." Nick says before going back to his set up. “Plus, who fucking flies halfway across the country for a friend? No offense.”

Nicholas feels his stomach drop at the others words, immediately shaking his head.

"She came to see all of us." He replies, defensively almost, and both Folio and Jolly give him a look that reads seriously? He frowns. "She told me that."

"Yeah, I'm sure she did." Folio mutters to himself and Nicholas can't stop the way his eyes narrow at the younger boy.

"She told all of us that, man, and I'm sure that's part of it but we all know the real reason why she's here." Jolly points towards the hallway that both Noah and Naomi ran to, and Nicholas feels his stomach turn.

He doesn't say anything to that. Truthfully, he's not sure what he can say. He stares off towards the hallway, brain foggy as he tries to wrap his mind around the boys words before he comes back to himself, clearing his throat.

"I'm gonna go check on them, see if he needs anything." Nicholas mumbles, almost to himself, and Jolly gives him a smile.

"Do whatever you gotta do, man."

He gives Jolly a half assed smile before turning on his heels and walking towards the hallway, hands clammy. His heart pounds in his ears with each step he takes, and he swears the turning in his stomach that was once nerves is now nausea. Great.

Nicholas turns the corner and immediately stops, heart pounding against his chest when he sees Noah sitting on the ground, face wet with tears... and Naomi settling into his lap. She says something to him but they're too far down the hall that Nicholas doesn't catch it, and his throat tightens the second they both lean into each other.

He shouldn't have followed. He should've stayed right where he was, unpacking their shirts for the night to hang up, but he couldn't forget the look on Noah's face as he ran past them. He definitely couldn't forget the way Naomi dropped everything and followed after him, running into the hallway in search of Noah. He couldn't forget the rage he felt at Jolly in those few minutes, thinking the other said something to trigger Noah’s anxiety. He should've minded his fucking business, but when it comes to Noah and Mimi, he knows he never could.

His eyes sting and he swears he feels his heart snap into a billion little pieces the second their lips meet. Naomi's hands grip his face and Noah's fingers dig into her hips, and Nicholas has to force himself to look away. He knew this would happen - he fucking knew it would. He's known the second he met Naomi and saw the way Noah looked at her, like she hung up all the stars in the goddamn sky.

He doesn't stay long, doesn't make his presence known as he was going to, and instead rushes off to the bathroom. It's a single, so he's able to lock himself in there, and leans back against the door. His head hits the door with a thud, and he sucks in a ragged breath, eyes squeezing shut.

Nicholas knows he shouldn't feel this way - heartbroken - but he can't help it. It's one thing to see the person you love kissing someone else, but when it's both of them... it's a whole other world of hurt. His chest feels like it's been ripped open and someone reached deep inside to pull his heart out, then held it in front of his face and ripped it to shreds.

He hates that there's not a goddamn thing he can do about it.

He’s going to have to stand there, wait for them to tell him that they confessed their feelings and he'll have to put a smile on his face and tell them he's happy for them. And in a way, he is. He's only ever wanted for them to be happy, but maybe a small part of him had a feeling it was going to be him. That he would be lucky enough to be the one making them happy. It was all wishful thinking, a fucking dream that would never happen, and he has to press himself further into the door to hold himself up right, legs weak as he slides down.

Nicholas lets himself cry, face crumbling as the first few tears fall. He pulls his legs to his chest and wraps his arms around them, burying his face in his knees. His body shakes with each cry and he knows if someone was close, they could hear him, but he didn't care. He's let himself not feel anything about this for far too long, and if he's going to get over it, he should finally let himself feel.

He doesn't know how long he sat there, body shaking with sobs, but by time he's done he feels... exhausted. He feels sick, stomach twisting with each sniffle and he lets himself stand on shaky legs. He finds himself in the mirror, eyes puffy and face blotchy. He stares at his reflection for a few more moments before he turns the faucet on, splashing water over his face.

He squeezes his eyes shut and counts to ten, hoping to calm himself down some before patting his face dry. He turns to face the door and swallows thickly because he knows the second he leaves the safety of this bathroom, he'll have to put a smile on his face and act like everything's okay. As if he didn't just sob his fucking heart out in this damn bathroom for the last ten minutes. It sucks, but he’s been acting like everything's alright since the almost kiss, so he guesses he can continue to act like nothing's wrong a little longer.

With a shaky breath, he pushes the door open and makes his way back to the main room where everything was being set up. He sees Noah first, who's back on stage helping Jolly out with something, and he turns, almost as if he could feel his presence. Nicholas smiles, hoping it isn't too obvious he's faking, and Noah gives him one back, relieved.

"Was wondering where you went." He calls, hopping off the stage to make his way towards Nicholas. "Folio said you wandered off like 15 minutes ago."

"Oh, uh." His voice cracks and Noah's eyes narrow. Nicholas clears his throat. "I was going to look for you, but they told me Naomi got to you first, and then I uh. I had to pee! So, I went to the bathroom. Then got distracted by my phone." His words come out rushed. “Twitter is so addictive.”

"...You were on Twitter the entire time?"

"Yeah, but that’s beside the point," Nicholas quickly responds, "are you okay?"

For some reason this surprises Noah, eyes widening just a bit and Nicholas doesn't miss the glance he casts in Naomi's direction. His stomach drops.

"Uh, yeah. I'm good. Mimi helped a lot."

"Oh, cool. That's... that's great. Awesome. I'm glad. " Nicholas rambles on. He holds in a breath and Noah's eyes scan his face, his lips slowly dipping down into a frown.

"You promise you're alright?"

"Of course," He finally takes a deep breath, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. "I'm just... tired. Didn't sleep well last night. The van's cramped as shit and I can never get comfortable."

Nicholas thinks he's convinced him well enough because instead of replying Noah wraps an arm around Nicholas' shoulder and tugs him into his side, walking off towards the stage. He feels like his eyes are bulging out of his fucking head the second he's wrapped in Noah's embrace and he tries to pull away, but for some reason this skinny little bastard's hold is way too strong.

He's rambling on about something, he thinks it has to do with Jolly and their equipment, but Nicholas is barely listening. He's too focused on the way Noah's arm feels wrapped around him and he gets a sudden sick feeling in his stomach, eyes darting across the room towards Naomi. She's already looking at them, eyebrows scrunched together but the second her eyes fall on Nicholas her face relaxes in an instant. His heart leaps into his throat and he tries swallowing it down, but the smile she gives him is enough to bring it right back up.

This is going to be a lot harder than he thought.

…

Naomi watches the two boys interact, her skin buzzing with nerves. She's still not able to process what just happened, the kiss, the confession... her head is reeling. She should be excited - happy – and she is, swear. She's never denied her feelings for Noah, always knowing that they were there somewhere inside of her, but she can't help but feel almost... sad.

Her eyes land on Nicholas and her mind wanders back to a few years ago to her first tattoo session with him. She thinks back to how he took care of her, making sure she was alright the entire time and the tenderness behind his touch. She remembers just how badly she wanted to kiss him in that moment, to feel his lips against hers. She also remembers the look in his eyes, and the way she knew that he wanted it just as much as her.

She shivers and has to shake her head from the thought. She can't be thinking of kissing her best friend after she had just confessed to her other best friend. She groans to herself, head already aching from her thoughts. Mimi knew that she couldn't help how she felt. It does happen - falling for two people at once. She's not the first person to do it, and won't be the last, but it just makes things so complicated.

Almost to the point where she doesn’t even want to deal with it.

"Ready for tonight?" Folio's voice breaks her out of her thoughts, and she whips around to look at him, lips pulling into a small smile.

"As ready as I'll ever be." She looks over the merchandise before her before looking at Nick. "I've never been a merch girl before, so we'll see how it goes."

"It isn't too hard." He says with a shrug, leaning against the table. "Plus, you'll have Nicholas here to help.”

Shit. She forgot about that.

"I'll be fine." She decides to say and gives Folio a tight-lipped smile. "Nicky is always the best teacher, so I'm sure I'll have it down in no time."

He smiles at her and even gives her a pat on the back, hand sliding up to grip her shoulder gently. "We really appreciate you coming out here. More than you know."

Mimi gives him a real smile, not all tight-lipped, and leans into his touch. She hadn't lied when said she'd do anything for them to Noah on the phone weeks ago, because she would. Not even just for him and Nicholas, she'd even offer a hand to Jolly and Folio, people she now considers some of her closest friends.

"That's what friends are for. Don't thank me."

"Whatever." Nick laughs and gives her shoulder another squeeze before he turns to leave back for the stage. "If you need anything, let one of us know."

Naomi waves him off before she gets back to unboxing and setting up the merch for tonight's show. What happened with Noah was a bit of a setback and she wishes he hadn’t whisked Nicholas towards the stage so she could have some help, but she knew she could do this on her own. She'll just have to talk to him before the show starts and make sure she did everything right.

Her stomach twists as the thought of also talking to Noah crosses her mind, and she lets out a sigh. She brings a hand up to rub at her temples as the dull ache in her head grew. Why was this so complicated? Why did she feel so fucking guilty? She didn’t exactly understand why, but a part of her isn’t too keen on figuring it out anytime soon.

She quietly gets everything set up for the night, going through the instructions in her head that Nicholas told her earlier in the day. She doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until the bands go through their sound check, trying to hurry before the crowd is let in. With too much going on, she doesn't end up getting to talk to Noah or Nicholas before the show. With all the rushing around, they barely even were able to stop and say hi.

Before she knows it, the show is starting, and to her surprise she has a steady line during Bad Omens set. She was able to catch a glimpse here and there in between talking to a few fans, but she was mostly kept busy throughout it all, which she was thankful for.

Naomi feels like she can finally breathe by the time the nights over and they were packing up to set off for their next destination. Her and Nicholas were wordlessly putting away the merch for the night, the older male being much quieter than normal. He's barely even said a few words to her since he came back to help after getting off stage, only giving her strained smiles when she said anything to him. She figured he was just tired, which worried her, because it was his turn to drive tonight.

"Feeling alright, Nicky?" She questioned as she closed up one of the last boxes. He looks over at her and there's something in his stare that she can't place, but it makes her blood run cold.

"Yeah." He replies shortly, and she watches his throat bob as he swallowed harshly before closing up his own box. "Just tired."

She frowns. "Do you want me to drive for you tonight?"

"No."

It's a short response and his back is turned towards her now, which makes her frown deepen even more. She takes a step towards him and opens her mouth to say something but comes to a stop when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey."

She turns quickly to find Noah behind her and her worry from seconds ago vanishes the second their eyes meet. Naomi can't help but smile and Noah does the same, leaning against the table beside her.

"Oh, hi."

She feels giddy, almost like a schoolgirl, and she mentally scolds herself at how embarrassing that is. This is Noah, her best friend... that told her he loved her and then they kissed. No big deal, right?

"How'd tonight go?" Noah questions. She shrugs.

"Alright, I think."

He snorts and looks over at Nicholas who still has his back turned. "Think she's merch girl material, Nicky?"

"Sure."

They both narrow their eyes at him, and confusion wraps itself in Noah's expression. He stares at him another moment before looking down at Mimi, and she can only shrug.

"Alright." He sounds unconvinced but a smile finds his way on his lips again. "Think you got it down for tomorrow? I could probably come out and help, too, if you want."

"I think she'll be alright, Noah. You don't need to hover." Nicholas lets out an annoyed huff as he gathers up their things and both Mimi and Noah stare at him before glancing at each other.

What the fuck?

Noah looks like he's having an internal battle with himself, lips slowly tugging back down into a frown. All she wants to do is wrap him up in a hug, but she stays where she is as she sees him step forward.

Noah moves over to Nicholas now and places a gentle hand on his back, lips pursed into a pout. "Dude, if you’re tired, I can drive the first half for you.”

Nicholas jumps at the touch, and Naomi assumes he just wasn't expecting it, and turns his head to look at the younger boy for a second.

"I’m fine, Noah." His words are clipped, and she sees the moment when Noah's face falls, but he recovers it quickly.

"Well, okay. I got you a few extra red bulls, they're in the front with your stuff." His hand lingers on his back for a second too long before he takes a step back, giving Nicholas a gentle smile. "Also got some of those skittles you like. Hopefully all the caffeine and sugar will keep you awake."

Nicholas pauses and he returns the smile Noah gives him, but it looks pained. She’s starting to think he’s more than just tired.

"Thanks." Is all he responds before he picks up a box of shirts, nodding his head towards the exit. "I'm gonna start hauling this stuff back to the van."

Noah nods and takes another step away from him to make room, and they watch Nicholas wordlessly walk away. He doesn’t even look at them and stares straight ahead. She’s not sure what’s going on, and she’s positive it’s something more than just being tired, and the fact he hasn’t told her or Noah what’s wrong is starting to worry her.

"So..." Noah clearing his throat snaps Naomi out of her thoughts, finally looking away from where Nicholas once stood. Her eyes flicker up towards him. "About earlier..."

Her mouth drops into an O and her cheeks burn, probably already beginning to flush.

"Oh, yeah. That."

Noah snorts out a laugh. "That?"

"What else am I supposed to call it?" She says in a hushed tone, stepping closer to him. She looks around before continuing, "Like, oh, when we made out in the hallway? Yeah, I remember that."

Noah laughs fully now, eyes scrunching as he throws his head back. A few people stare but Naomi doesn't mind, too busy thinking about how much she's always enjoyed his laugh. She smiles.

"We don't have to call it anything." He says once he's calmed down and looks around himself before his eyes fall back to hers, reaching out to take her hand. She blushes but lets him lace their fingers together. "And we don't have to talk about it right now, but I'd just... I'd like to know where you stand on it."

He looks nervous now, eyes casted down to their hands. His thumb brushes against the back of her hand and she has to stop herself from smiling at the gesture.

"Where I stand?" Her head tilts. "What do you mean?"

Noah shrugs but doesn’t respond, staring down at their connected hands.

"Dude. I cried and told you I loved you. I feel like that should tell you where I stand pretty well."

"Okay, but like I need you to verbally tell me again or else I'm just going to think you did all of that to make me feel better." He whines out and looks away from her bashfully.

She can't help but frown, chest twisting at the thought of Noah thinking she did all of that just to make him calm down. She pulls her hand away from his and steps forward, taking another quick glance around the room to find absolutely no one paying attention to them. She reaches up to cup his cheeks and pulls his head down to stare at her.

"Noah," She hums, thumbs brushing against the tops of his flushing cheeks. "I wasn't saying that just to say it. I love you."

Noah chews on his bottom lip and she can feel his eyes scanning her face, trying to search for any indication that she may be lying. Her heart breaks at that. She can see the worry and doubt in his gaze, and it stays for just a beat longer, but it finally vanishes.

“That was kind of corny.” Noah finally says, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. She lets out a groan, hands dropping from his face.

“We were having a really nice moment and you fucking ruined it.”

Noah laughs, the doubt his face once held long gone, and all Naomi wants to do is lean up and kiss that stupid grin off his face.

“10 minutes till curfew!” Someone yells from across the room.

They finally pull apart and pack up the rest of the boxes, hauling them off to the van. It's a fairly quick process and before she knows it, they're all piling into the van for the night, getting into their designated seats for the next few hours. She practically begged for Noah to let her sit up front, so the other boys can have the backseats to at least try and get some rest. She even asked Nicholas if it was alright but all he did was shrug, buckling himself in the driver's seat.

The beginning of the drive was loud, Jolly and Noah talking about tonight's show with Folio chiming in every so often. Nicholas didn't say much but did say a few things here and there, but never once looked away from the road. Not even an hour later, though, the only thing that could be heard was silence.

"Everything alright?" Nicholas' voice is quiet over the hum of the radio, and she can faintly hear someone snoring in the seat behind her, probably Jolly. She has to stifle her laughter as she looks over at him.

"Yeah," She hums, shifting in her seat. "Everything's peachy."

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again. "You know I can always tell when you're lying, right?"

She freezes, glancing up at Nicholas. He's already looking at her, briefly, before he focuses back on the road. Her eyes drop to his hands and watches as they grip the steering wheel, and she's surprised they're not turning white with how tight his grip is. She shifts in her seat again, pulling a leg up to rest underneath her.

"I wasn't lying." Her eyes drop to her lap and she picks at her nails. "Everything is alright, Nicky. Promise."

"Okay." She looks up and sees his grip loosen around the wheel before his gaze catches hers again. "Next question. If there's something going on, you would tell me. Yes or no?"

This one catches her off guard and the air gets stuck in her throat, only for a moment, and she tries to swallow it away.

"Elaborate."

She's stalling. Naomi barely had any time to sit and talk to Noah about what happened earlier, let alone think about what she would tell Nicholas. Oddly enough she's scared to tell him, scared to see his reaction because for some reason she feels like it's going to screw everything up. Just like Noah had mentioned.

"Like..." He drags the word out. "Let's say something happened earlier... and it was kind of huge... because it could change everything, you would still tell me.”

Oh.

She feels her heart pound against her chest, and she looks down again. It shouldn't be this fucking hard to tell Nicholas that she and Noah kissed. It shouldn't be this hard to tell him that she loves Noah and wants to be with him. These are things you share with your best friend, so why does it feel so wrong?

It's the same reason you never told Noah about your almost kiss with Nicholas, her mind yells at her. She swallows thickly and ignores the voice in her head.

"Well," Naomi starts, picking her head up. "If something did happen, and it was something that could change everything, maybe I'm trying to find the best way to tell you."

Another moment of silence washes over them and she tries to read his face, tries to see how he handles her words, but there’s nothing. Not even a twitch. He just stares blankly at the road, lips pressed in a line.

“If that’s the case,” His voice was much lower than before, “then I want to remind you that you’re my best friend. You should be able to tell me anything.”

She sighs. “It’s complicated, Nicky.”

“How so?”

That she can’t exactly answer. With another sigh she looks out the window, barely able to see the world passing by with how dark it was.

“The second I say something, it’ll change everything, and…” She shrugs. “Maybe I don’t want anything to change. Maybe I like the way things are now.”

“How do you know things will change?”

“God, you are so full of questions tonight.” She tries to keep her voice light, but the sharpness is heard from a mile away. She hears Nicholas sigh next to her.

“Mimi.” Another long sigh. “You know all I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, right?”

She finally looks at him again, lips dipping into a frown. He’s focused on the road, eyes never wavering, but she knows he’s waiting for her to respond. She nods.

“Of course, but-“

“Then if whatever happened could end up making you happy,” Nicholas cuts her off, eyes flickering towards her before looking back to the road, “then why should I let that come between us? That’s kind of ridiculous.”

She doesn’t respond, letting his words sink in. He’s right, in a way, but she still thinks he doesn’t fully understand. For the last three years it’s just been the three of them – Noah, Nicholas, and Naomi. If her and Noah make this thing official, it could change the entire dynamic, and for some reason the thought of losing this type of bond with the two boys makes her sick to her stomach.

“You don’t have to tell me now.” Nicholas continues. “But as long as you’re happy, and as long as Noah’s happy,” She doesn’t miss the emphasis on the younger boys’ name, “then I’m happy.”

His words make something in her chest ache, eyes burning with tears. She stares hard at the side of his face, begging him with her eyes to look at her, but he never takes his gaze off the road.

“Nicky.”

“Mimi.”

He finally looks at her now, and she swears she sees tears brimming his eyes, but the van is so dark she probably just made it up. She tries to swallow her own away, throat tightening as a fresh new set burned at her eyes.

"I know change can be scary," Nicholas starts off slowly, a sigh slipping out after his words, "but sometimes... change is good. You shouldn't stop yourself from experiencing this because you're worried about what other people think."

He looks at her now and she has to bite her lip to hold back the tears burning at her eyes. When the hell did she get so emotional? Nicholas' eyes dart to her lap and then back up to her, and they're both reaching out at the same time. She laces their fingers and squeezes their hands together. He smiles, though it's small.

"I know I keep saying it but it’s true… all I want is for you to be happy. Can you do that for me?"

She pauses. “I can try.”

“Good.” That answer seems to satisfy him enough, eyes dropping to their hands one more time before he focuses back on the road.

For some reason she feels relieved by his words and gives his hand another squeeze. She tries telling herself that this was the universes way of letting her know that things will be alright, but something twisting in her gut is telling her the complete opposite.

She chooses to ignore it and holds onto Nicholas’ hand tightly.

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