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#he keeps making quiet little jokes where you know his heart isn't in it but he's just doing his best to make the best of the situation
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Red Flagged (Mouse series) - Max Verstappen
Summary: Max gets bored in a red flag and finds mouse is the perfect person to kill time with
Themes: Smut (fingering), public sex (kind of)
Ngl wasn't sure if I would ever write smut for this series, but I figured this was pretty mild and sort of fit what I think works for their dynamic. Also Max didn't actually drive during this red flag on testing day 3, but we're going to pretend her did for the sake of the fic
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The red flag during testing was a joke by any means of the imagination. Given that it's the second time they've found themselves at the mercy of drains just during testing but after Las Vegas with Carlos, no one can be too cautious and Charles already had to have the floor changed after it got damaged when he ran over it.
"Where's mouse?" Max questions since his girlfriend has been keeping herself very hidden away. Returning to the season after months of just the two of them, it was taking an adjustment period.
"Your guess is as good as mine." Rupert, his new trainer, states making Max look around.
If she's around she's not on this side of the garage and with the other side unused she might be using it to give herself some air.
But it doesn't take long to discover that isn't where she situated herself. So he goes around looking for her with very little luck.
"I saw y/n go up to the paddock club lounge." Lando states as Max catches him and asks if he has happened to see the young woman.
"Oh, thanks mate." Max smiles giving him a quick pat on the shoulder before he jogs off knowing that maybe he should've thought to check in the places at aren't in use by even those in the paddock.
When he gets up there, he searches around before finding her out on the balcony that overlooks the pit lane. Legs crossed and body tipped forward as if she's awaiting the appearance of the cars.
"Mouse." He states watching her whole body jump, even sitting down she managed to get herself airborne which he can't help but grin at. "Sorry, I thought you heard me."
She remains quiet, more silent than ever recently while he sits down behind her and smiles when she leans back onto his chest.
"No one is out on track." Y/n whispers almost so quiet that Max almost doesn't heart her.
"Red flag, a drain came up again." Max states gently playing with the hem of her dress then smoothing it over while she shivers a little over his touch. "Thought I'd lost you for the whole day when I couldn't track you down."
"How did you find me?" Y/n murmurs before he grins at her, not that she can even see it.
"Lando spotted you coming up here." Max smiles then gently wrapping his arms up around her ribs to hug her closer. "Do you think you'd be able to drop me a message next time you hide yourself away?"
"Sorry."
"It's ok, mouse." Max assures her softly feeling her relax a little on him.
Y/n leans her head back onto his shoulder sighing as she looks around, not noticing Max's creeping hand gently pushing her dress up exposing her thigh to the gently breeze.
"You know, there is some time to kill before the red flag ends." Max hums as she finally feels his hand trailing under the skirt of her dress.
"Max-"
"You're going to have to be a bit quieter, mouse." Max whispers as his fingers brush the flimsy lace, her twitching and quivering under even that fine touch. "Want me to stop?"
Y/n whimpers when he gently presses a little more against the quickly dampening material.
"I need an answer, mouse."
"No."
If they weren't so exposed and he didn't know he was pushing her so far out her comfort zone, then he might insist on pushing for more words from her. But he's not going to waste time.
Unlike most, y/n doesn't actually struggle to keep quiet though her methods aren't exactly conventional. Holding her breath and biting her tongue, maybes a squeak or the breathiest whisper of moans escape when she finally lets herself breathe again.
By the time he's pushed her underwear aside, she's slick and pushing a finger into her meets no resistance. Though he can tell she's tight from nerves. After all exhibitionism hasn't exactly been an area they've spanned into.
"Max." Y/n whines when he presses onto her clit, moving in patterns while her body begins to feel impossibly hot.
Bahrain is already a warm place but it's certainly feeling scorching under Max's touch at the moment. Her hand moves up to grip his racing suit, her fist latched onto the material. Teeth catching her lip and her body pressing back into him more.
"That's it, mouse." Max whispers, the praise being enough to nudge her ever so closer to orgasms. "You are doing so well mouse."
His other hand rests on her stomach as he hears her quiet pants stop, her breath held for a dizzying time before her back arches away from him while he shoulders press harder against him and her legs shift up to clamp her thighs together as she clenched around his fingers, trembling time she lets out a gasping breath.
Her frigid body slowly begins to relax till she's heavy against him again, still panting slightly uneveningly.
"Alright, mouse." Max soothes not having quite removed his hand quite yet. "Are you ok?"
Y/n pants closing her eyes and scrunch up her face as if she isn't sure whether she is ok or not.
"Mouse?"
"I'm ok." She whispers, though it's more like she just exhaled and moved her lips. Hardly even using her voice to form the words.
Max does ease his fingers from her, feeling her twitch from the movement before he raises his fingers up to his mouth and licks the residue clean from his skin.
"My skirt is wet." Y/n murmurs sounding both horrified and on the verge of tears.
"It's alright. I'll bring you something clean to wear." Max promises rubbing her stomach from where his free hand was still resting. "Don't worry, no one saw us, mouse. You don't need to panic."
Y/n finally turns to look at Max and sighs lightly when he leans forward pecking a kiss onto her lips.
"I think the red flag might be over. Are you happy to wait up here and watch the rest of testing till I can bring something clean?"
"Yeah, I'm ok up here." Y/n nods earning herself another kiss but he can feel the scalding temperature of her skin, both newly flustered and still hot from her very public orgasm.
"We should do something like that again." Max smirks earning a look from the quiet woman. "But maybe I'll give you recovery time to process it."
Y/n only manages a light hum of consideration but she doesn't comment on the idea. Instead just accept another kiss before he squeezes her in an impossibly tight hug.
"I love you, mouse."
"I love you too." Y/n smiles face still hot as he kisses the top of her head then finally stands up and moves off to get back down to the garage.
Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos
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happiest-hotch · 9 months
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Father's Day
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for the biggest dilf out there <3
Summary: Father's Day morning at the Hotchner household.
Word Count: 1.8k
As almost every morning for the past eight months started, you wake up to baby cries from Noah. Lately, it's through the baby monitor, the other camera set up in the nursery down the hall, but prior to that, it was a bassinet in the master bedroom, and the journey to soothe your crying baby was shorter.
At this point, it's reflexive to haul yourself out of bed when that special alarm rings, just like how it's natural for you to respond when you hear him cry.
Aaron stretches out and places a large hand on your thigh to stop you from getting up, but his head still rests against the white pillows, jet-black hair tousled.
"I'll get him." He says, mostly still asleep. He hasn't even opened his eyes.
"Don't worry." You assure him, voice thick with sleep. "Sleep in a little." You instruct him, squeezing his hand as you get out of bed and straighten the bedding. "It's Father's Day, after all."
He doesn't protest, just lets his hand drop on the comforter where you would usually lay.
You slip off into the hall, stepping through the quiet house. It's rarely like that nowadays, and you love the noise and chaos with your whole heart.
You hear the crying when you open the door to Noah's room, but it quietens when he recognizes you. He's the cutest thing you've ever seen, holding onto the crib bars to support his weight with wet tears on his cheeks. He looks most similar to the baby photos you've seen of Jack which is cute since you didn't know Jack until he was five. Adding to the list of adorable things about him, Noah's perfected the Hotchner stare when he gets grumpy.
"Good morning, sweet baby." You coo, picking him up and resting him on your hip so you can hug him. He looks at you with eyes identical to Aaron's, a rich brown.
Noah gurgles a response, grasping at your hair with his chubby fingers. It amazes you, how he's learning to communicate.
"Today is Father's Day." You tell him. Narrating your day has become common as you attempt to broaden his vocabulary. "So, we get to celebrate daddy." He's a while away from speaking, but he definitely understands who Daddy is and he giggles in the cutest way. "And he can't tell us it's too much. He probably will, but today, we don't have to listen."
After you take him out of his sleep sack and change him, like has become routine, you make your way to the kitchen with him.
"Are you hungry?" You ask rhetorically, seating him in his highchair. "I bet you are. Those bedtime bottles don't keep you full all day as well as all night, but Mommy loves that you're not waking up at night." He babbles back at you with the most adorable smile. "So, what do you think? Oatmeal sound good? Then some eggs with Jack and Daddy?"
You do what you promise, making him breakfast while he sits there smiling. You've never known a smilier baby than he is. While the oatmeal cooks, you get started beating some eggs to make breakfast for your other favorite people.
With cooked oatmeal, you put the bacon in a pan and leave it to cook so you can feed Noah.
"Here, sweet boy." You coo, squatting down and holding out a thick, plastic spoon of cooled oatmeal. "I bet you're growing and that's why you're so hungry. We're going to have to start buying you one-year-old clothes soon." You joke. He's a good eater like he's a good sleeper, easy as well as adorable, and he swallows his breakfast down.
The bacon starts sizzling in the background, and you leave the spoon on the tray, hoping he'll feed himself, while you get started on the eggs and flipping the bacon.
Noah isn't with the plan, and his tears start pretty quickly, accompanied by screams that could threaten to wake the house. He throws the spoon you were using to feed him on the floor carelessly.
"Sweetie, it's okay." You comfort him from the kitchen, but his cheeks are turning red pretty quickly, and you can't rush over to feed him without burning breakfast. It feels like an impossible juggle some days.
Just as the situation threatens to get worse, Aaron walks into the room. "Uh oh, someone's grumpy this morning." He jokes, walking to the cutlery drawer to get him a new spoon.
"I can do it." You jump in, taking the spoon from him while making sure not to burn the eggs.
"It's alright, baby." He assures you. "I'll feed him, you focus on breakfast. It smells delicious, by the way, thank you." As always, he's your perfect, well-mannered husband.
On any other day, you'd be thankful he's there and not somewhere around the country. "But it's Father's Day." You remind him in a whiney tone. "Let me do it. You just-"
Aaron squeezes your hip as he walks past. "Not happening." He says with tenderness. "I don't want you being a married single mom just because it's a random Sunday in June." He squats in front of the highchair where you were before, soothing Noah by running his hand through his soft hair before offering him some food. It does make you feel better when his crying ceases, and it's adorable when his face lights up as he recognizes his dad. "Hey, bubba, no more tears." He coos before turning back to finish what he was saying to you. "And I'm not always here, so I'm definitely going to help out when I am."
"Today's not a day for you to criticize yourself." You remind him, smiling softly. He's so attractive when he's most domestic, dad-like and husband-like. "Especially about being a dad, which, I'll be the first one to say today, you're amazing at."
He chuckles lightly, focusing his attention between feeding Noah and lovingly gazing at you. "Thank you." He tells you. "Not just for that, but for always."
You nod, always grateful you're the person who gets to compliment him endlessly.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Aaron asks in an enticing tone, turning back to look at you with a shy grin.
"Sure." You say, smiling over at him.
"I watch you on the baby monitor sometimes." He admits sheepishly, the collected facade of his slipping like it does when he's being tender. Your cheeks heat slightly at his confession. "And what you say is so sweet. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."
Breakfast cooked, you walk over and place your hand on his shoulder. "You deserve it. You hungry?"
He doesn't get out a reply before Jack comes running into the room excitedly, throwing his arms around his dad's neck, so Aaron can hold him to his side.
Noah recognizes him and reaches out for his brother with a grin, breakfast- and crying- forgotten about.
"Good morning! Happy Father's Day." Jack cheers.
"Thanks, buddy," Aaron replies, sweeping his hair out of the way to kiss his forehead. "Love you."
"Love you too," Jack says. He reaches for Aaron's hand that's holding the spoon. "Can I do it?" Watching them interact is something you deeply enjoy, and the responsibility of feeding his brother is a duty Jack takes seriously.
Aaron nods, handing it over and letting Jack feed his brother as he makes his way over to you. He holds your waist, kissing you softly before pulling back and leaving his face an inch from yours. "Hi." He whispers.
"Hi." You say back, leaning up to kiss him once before wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him while you watch the boys.
It's your happy place. Still and full of love.
"Breakfast?" Aaron asks because although he doesn't want to stop feeling your warm body against his, the food is getting cold.
You rest your head on his chest, looking at Jack and Noah. "Are you hungry Jack?"
He looks at you with wide eyes. "Starving." He exaggerates the word.
"Bacon and eggs?" You offer, although it's already made and he won't turn it down.
"Please, please!" He replies excitedly, leaving Noah's food on the highchair. "But I have to get something." He remembers before racing off out of the kitchen.
You frown, looking as confused as Aaron. You pull apart, you to serve breakfast, and Aaron to tempt Noah with some more oatmeal, but it seems he heard what you offered his brother and no longer wants what you made him. Thankfully, he's much more willing to feed himself eggs and picks some up as soon as you set down his plate.
Jack comes back when the plates are on the table, taking his seat with a sly smile and his hands behind his back.
"What do you have?" Aaron asks with a soft smile at Jack's animated expression.
"This," Jack reveals a card, handing it over to his dad.
The words on the front are definitely his handwriting, reading Happy Father's Day in messy, lopsided black letters. There's a stick figure family at the bottom, and Aaron's wearing a cape reminiscent of a superhero.
"Wow, this is amazing." Aaron compliments him, tears in his eyes at the thoughtful card. "You did this?"
Jack nods before making Aaron open the card and pointing at a paint mark on the bottom. "But Noah did this." He explains. "He can't hold a pen, though, so I had to put the paint on his finger and stamp it for him."
Aaron's face softens even more, if possible. "Thank you. This is the best gift I've gotten, aside from you and Noah." He looks at you, making sure you know he's grateful you made him a dad again.
"What's the best part about being a father?" Jack asks randomly.
Aaron pauses, his mind filled with memories and emotions. "The best part." He starts, voice thick with emotion. "Getting to raise you and Noah, and watching you grow up and become a really awesome, kind, intelligent, and funny person. And being there for you no matter what."
"I like you being my dad," Jack tells him.
"I like being your dad too," Aaron replies, squeezing his hand. You can see the tears in his eyes, but it's too early for tears.
"And Noah's?" Jack asks, looking at his little brother.
Aaron nods, looking at his youngest and then at you. "Of course, Noah too."
It might just be a random Sunday in June, but Father's Day serves as a reminder of his privilege of being a dad, the unconditional love he has for them, and how much he appreciates having you by his side. Aaron Hotchner just loves being a dad.
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princesssmars · 3 months
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plsssss do something for michael munroe im so starved
i could change your mind
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some college football player mike headcanons.
contains: fluff. some nsfw. american football gross. mike is cocky whats new. fem!reader. hair nor skin color described.
a/n: anon i lowkey miss him too so i'll do a few headcanons for you anon. sorry that my until dawn rewrite is like on hiatus I just feel like it's gonna be such a flop so my brain says it cant be bad if I don't write it ??? idk. ty for making me do this. set in college but i've decided to start a year late so if i get shit wrong sorry scholars. (heart fingers emoji I'm on desktop fml.)
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idk why but the first thing that popped into my head was him loving a sport...like he gives smart but also dumbass jock to me we let's go with he did football in high school and he's at college on a scholarship.
if you're like me you don't give two shits about the sport you probably would not like twice in a football player's way, which he definitely sees as a challenge. he'll come up to you in the dining hall and try to hit on you in front of his jock friends, spouting a "whatever you say, sweetheart" when you reject him with a grimace.
to your surprise and horror he's in one of your advanced classes in your second semester, sitting with his feet up next to your seat with a smile when you walk in. you do call him troglodyte for having his shoes on the table but he says with an easy smile that he's in with the teacher who said it was alright.
great.
for the first three weeks, you try to ignore his questions and poking at all costs, but when you get paired up on an important assignment you decide to hold your disdain on pause. he invites you to "study in his dorm" which nearly gives you a migraine, until he chuckles and tells you he's joking, telling you you can meet at common ground and study in the library.
you hold your tongue instead of giving a quip about how he probably won't be able to keep his mouth shut, but once you actually get there you realize the worst thing ever: mike munroe isn't a moron. he's actually pretty smart, maybe nearly as smart as you, and shows pretty good leadership with how he takes in both your academic strengths and divides the workload based on them. its not hard to see why he's the quarterback.
after you get an a+ on your project, you start to warm up to mike. his stupid quips in class start to actually become funny, leading to numerous moments where he makes you snort in class and the professor rolls his eyes.
your friendship soon grows enough that mike has the confidence to invite you to one of his games while you're walking around campus, and if you start to say no he informs you that he will not hesitate to get on his knees and beg in front of everyone. that makes you feel a little weird so you groan and tell him fine.
the whole time you don't really know what's going on, even though ten minutes before he had to get ready he tried to cram all of the rules into your head. even though you don't know everything you can tell when something good happens, like when he makes the touchdown that wins your school the game. he celebrates with his team members and his crowd of fangirls before coming over to you, clearly waiting for you to say football is fun or something,
you don't. but the after-party definitely was. you don't know what that frat guy put in the punch but it was good, and had you nearly drunk in only two hours. nearly being a keyword, because someone who was past the point decided to do a childish game of seven minutes, and you decided to play along for fun.
but it wasn't so funny when they spun the bottle and it landed on you, then the next turn between two people to point towards the couch where mike was watching with his friends. they both burst out laughing at the horrified look on your face as you reluctantly follow him inside the closet.
for the first minute it's quiet, soft noises from the two of you adjusting your bodies in the quiet space and "sorry"'s when you bump into the other.
he takes your silence for uncomfortableness, telling you he's alright with just sitting with you. "one of my favorite things to do actually"
you don't really know why but you kiss him after that. when you pull away you can faintly see his blank face. great. you ruined everything. you're about to give some half-assed excuse before his hand is on the back of your neck and he's pulling you back into him and pressing your body into his.
things get weird after that night.
you're still friends after that night, of course. except now its...different.
you still have your movie nights laughing at people making dumb decisions in horror movies, except now you'll sometimes wind up on mike's lap with your tongue down his throat.
you still text each other stupid pictures you found on snapchat (he insists on using it, fuckboy he is. or used to be, weirdly). except now before you go to sleep he'll send you a picture of his bulge with a smiley face at the bottom. if you send a picture back he'll send a long voice message that you don't open for your own sanity.
but you aren't like. dating. and you don't know why in passing you hear his teammate nick call you "mike's girl". because you aren't. at all.
and plus its not like you've slept together or even gone on an actual date. you're just...closer than normal friends are.
and then he leaves the next december to spend a week with his old friends, and you kind of mope around campus while he's gone. he makes sure to text you constant updates until the night where he arrives at the cabin, where he leaves you delivered for two days. he did say his ex was going to be there, so that nagging voice in the back of your head is telling you the worse.
until you finally get the call from some random number in alberta. when you pick up after some initial confusion you hear mike on the other side.
"mike? what the actual hell? its been two days, thought you somehow managed to get lost in the snow."
he laughed on the other line, able to tell you're insult at his intelligence meant you cared. his voice sounds hoarse.
"yeah, yeah i know. i'm sorry. something came up and i...i've been stuck in this damn police station-"
"police station? jesus, how hard did you guys party."
he calls your name and it's serious. he only sounds like that when something important or bad has happened.
"mike? is everything ok?"
"no, no its not. josh is...he's gone. the cabins gone. we're all pretty messed up."
you don't give a response, waiting for him to elaborate if he wants to.
"i don't know what to say..i'm so sorry."
"it's alright. i'll explain more when i get back. i just wanted to hear your voice."
"now you're really scaring me."
he laughs again, the scratch of his voice returning.
"thank you."
"for what? constantly insulting you and bringing you back to reality?"
"for making me laugh. haven't done it in a while."
"yeah, well...i'll make sure your roommate hasn't completely trashed your dorm. and we can get some takeout. on me, because i'm polite."
"screw that, we're going on a date."
your heart skips.
"did you actually get a concussion because that's not funny."
"im serious. no more being a pussy. time to start getting serious. plus we're basically already dating, so."
"god, why does everyone keep saying that?"
"i'll see you soon."
the phone hangs up and you toss the phone to the side with a slight smile.
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lovelybrooke · 9 months
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About the request part. Is it okay if I ask for Platonic Yandere Strawhats with Y/n who is like not against them but also passively distrustful? By that I mean, Y/n doesn't answer to their affection and doesn't seek it , also doesn't really fight against them and doesn't speak much?
Strawhats with a distrusting reader
To make this a little easier on me, I'm going to write this character by character.
Luffy:
Luffy values trust among anything else, so if you didn't trust him, he'd be a little put off. He tries everything to make you trust him and open up to him, he'd even go as far as forcing you to talk to him on days where you're really quiet. He isn't trying to be mean or make you feel uncomfortable, he just really wants you to feel comfortable around him, and he knows bottling up all your emotion won't do anything to help.
Zoro:
Zoro is also pretty quiet, so he understands guarding your emotions to protect yourself. What he doesn't get is why you don't trust any of them, especially after you've known them for so long. He understands him and his friends are strange, but he doesn't get why you don't understand that all they want to do is protect you. He doesn't want to use force, but like Luffy, is you refuse to open up to him, he will force you too.
Nami:
Nami doesn't really understand why you don't trust them, until she remembers that they literally kidnapped you. So, she doesn't hold it against you when you when you flinch at the sight of them or hide when you see them. She wants to gain your trust naturally through protecting you and keeping you safe, regardless of her fears. Her heart soars when you get closer to her and don't seem as fearfully around her and will secretly rub it in others faces.
Chopper:
Chopper is a sweetheart, so it's hard not to trust him, however, he hates that you don't. It eats him up inside that you don't feel safe around him and like Robin, does everything possible to make you feel comfortable. He lets you read the ingredients of medicine to prove its not poison, he'll always treat your wounds first, and makes sure you're in top health always. If you don't come to eventually trust him, he isn't afraid to manipulate you with some tears.
Sanji:
Sanji is one that also feel bad about you not trusting him but understands why you don't. He offers to have conversations with you about how he and the others can make your stay with them better but doesn't listen when you say you want to go home. He tries to make the ship feel like a new home to you, making you familiar food and listening to stores about your time before them.
Usopp:
Usopp uses humor to make you trust him, hoping to pain himself as a nice guy who just wants to make you happy, which is the truth for once. Whenever you're really quiet, he'll crack a joke in the hope you giggle and forget about your time without them. In his eyes, by doing this he is slowly breaking down your walls and making him and his friends seem less like bad guys.
Robin:
Robin doesn't care that you don't trust her, all she cares about is that you're with her, and you're safe. While she would prefer you to feel comfortable around her, she doesn't care if you hate her guts and never talk to her. This doesn't prevent her from manipulating you though, she will still use your fears against you since she is excellent at reading you.
A/n: Thank you for requesting, hopefully this was good.
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maybe if i keep talking about the pre s1 au i'll actually write it
Robin has spent plenty of time watching Steve Harrington from the shadows. The way he continuously stayed on the sidelines of the rest of his friends' bullying was interesting. He never said too much of anything when it happened, didn't look all that interested in it, either. Just leaned against a locker and looked bored out of his mind.
Until a week before Thanksgiving break a couple years ago, when Tommy Hagan started bragging to anyone who'd listen about how Steve got his shit rocked by Jonathan Byers and promptly dumped him and Carol to the curb after. Sure, Tommy made sure to mention that Steve was the one to push until Jonathan finally snapped and punched him, but he didn't say how Steve had gone limp after. Letting Byers rearrange his face until a teacher ran over to break them up.
She remembers how lost he'd looked in the aftermath. Like he was a shell of himself.
So yeah. Steve Harrington isn't the same person he was in high school. Or at least he's trying not to be, that much Robin has noticed since he started working at Scoops at the beginning of the summer. But she didn't think he'd changed so much to be openly flirting with the Freak of Hawkins.
Well. Not exactly flirting, but there's something there Robin can't quite put her finger on.
Steve's manning the counter, right where she'd left him twenty minutes ago, but instead of looking like the picture of boredom slinging ice cream to annoying kids, he's leaned his elbows on the counter where Eddie Munson is doing the same on the other side. They're too quiet for Robin to hear what they're talking about but Steve's fingers are hooked on Eddie's watch, not pulling or tugging. Just resting.
Eddie's hands are clasped in front of him but his pointer finger keeps reaching out to lightly stroke Steve's arm, and that's when it hits Robin like a slap in the face.
They're domestic.
The lobby is empty, save for Eddie's friends that now occupy one of the booths, loudly arguing over something but Robin could care less because at that moment, Steve says something that has Eddie letting out a cackle laugh, his nose scrunched up and his shoulders shaking as he laughs. Her eyes slide over to Steve and he's.
Huh.
Gone is the usual smug smirk that graces his face when a girl laughs at one of his (awful) jokes, and is replaced by something... fond. His face is relaxed into a small smile and his round Bambi eyes are shining with mirth. Like he'd expected this reaction. Sometime during this, their fingers have tangled together in a subtle hand-hold across the counter and holy shit.
Steve Harrington is dating Eddie Munson.
One of Eddie's friends (Jeff, she thinks. They had pre-calc together.) says something and Steve only rolls his eyes as he replies. Eddie's grinning at them over his shoulder. Neither of their postures have changed. Robin feels like the room's spinning.
She knows about Eddie. Eddie knows about her. It's never been verbally said, but birds of a feather and all that. It doesn't have to be. She must accidentally bump into something in her attempt to rebalance the world because Steve's head is snapping toward her and panic flashes in his eyes as he tries to rip his hands away from Eddie's.
Eddie only holds them tighter as he locks eyes with her.
"It's alright, sweetheart," he tells Steve in a hushed tone. In front of him, Steve's visibly shaking like a leaf, mouth opening and closing but not making a sound. Robin's heart breaks a little. He looks downright terrified. Eddie's eyes haven't left her. "She's safe. Aren't you, Birdie?"
The question is directed at her. She swallows and nods quickly. "Y-yeah!" She winces at the volume of it. Clearing her throat, she tries again, taking a step forward like she's approaching a frightened animal. "You can trust me, Steve." Uses his first name instead of the 'dingus' that's grown affectionate. "I'm—" She glances over at the booth that's gone quiet. She doesn't want to out herself to the entire freak population of Hawkins High.
"I'm family," she settles on.
It takes Steve a moment for it to sink in, and when it does, his eyes somehow grow bigger in understanding. "Oh," he breathes out, like a sigh of relief. Eddie's rubbing his thumb over Steve's knuckles.
"Yeah, dingus." Robin's close enough now to nudge his shoulder with hers. "Oh. Why don't you go on break? I've got this."
Steve gives her a grateful look and tugs Eddie to the booth to join Eddie's —their— friends.
"It's about damn time you guys joined us," the curly haired one complains as they both slide in on the same side. Eddie throws a straw wrapper at him and Robin stops paying attention after that.
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sweet-almonds · 1 year
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O M G BEStIE CAN YOU DO A SCARAMOUCHE, ALBEDO, AND VENTI WHERE WE ASK THEM ''Would you still love me if I was a fish''? PLEAS AND THNAK YOU<<<<<<<<333333333333
"Would you still love me if i was a fish"
feat: albedo, scaramouche and venti
genre: fluff and crack
note: i will gladly do that because im in a mood of a crack fic💗
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✽ Albedo
as soon as the words come out of your mouth, he would give you a confused look, brows furrowed and a frown on his face. he was working at the time, trying to find out what sucrose did wrong on the latest experiment, when you came hopping onto the little shelter he names as a lab. he had his back turned to you when you suddently asked this question, he carefully turned his back to you.
---
"albedo!"
albedo was working on his project with his back turned to you, when he heard your voice, he replied.
"oh love, it's you. do you need anything?"
"i have a question for you!"
curious, albedo asked.
"oh? please do tell me."
"would you still love me if i was a fish?"
albedo froze at your question, but a few seconds later, he slowly, but carefully, turned to you.
"why are you suddenly asking this love? though it isn't unlike you, i find this question quite interesting."
"just answer the question 'bedo."
he suddenly stood up and went to reach for your hands to hold them in his hands, his gloves warming yours from the sheer cold.
"no matter what type of animal, object, or whatever you are, i will never stop loving you, please do know that." though, if you become a spider, i might eat you.
after that, you will always remember who your number one fan is.
✽ Scaramouche
he gives you a 'what the hell did you just say' look and stays quiet, and after that, he just continues what he was doing, which was reviewing papers. after you realized you weren't going to get a response, you banged your hand to his table, startling him, and ordering him to reply to your question, even though you know that he can snap your twig bones in less then five seconds. you were shaking but you didn't mention that
---
scaramouche was reviewing papers in his office when he heard the door knocking a specific order, an order that you and him made up to know who is at the door, just in case he doesn't burst in front of you.
you open the door to see scaramouche, your eyes sparkling once you see him in your vision, walking happily towards him. he noticed the change of your mood but he decided not to say anything about it.
"scara!! i'm so glad you're here!!"
"you want something, don't you?"
he immediately assumes, looking at you suspiciously.
"well...i want you to answer my question, and it's very important, so answer honestly!"
"alright...ask away, i guess."
"would you still love me if i was a fish?"
"..."
scaramouche was going to open his mouth, but when he processed your question, he closes it, and just stares at you, like you're an idiot.
after a few seconds, he continues to look at his papers, ignoring you, while you just look at him, dumbfounded.
offended by his silent answer, you march up to his desk, you banged your hand on his desk, making his handwriting on his document messy.
"damn, if you don't like me that much, just say it, it's better then the silent treatment!"
he sighs, and looks at you, with a 'i'm trying to keep calm, but you are making it hard to' kind of look.
"well if you really want to know, yes, i would still love you if you were a fish, there, happy?"
you give him a smile and tumble on top of him.
"awww, you're so cute!! i love you so much!!" you tell him, peppering his whole face with kisses.
"yeah, yeah, whatever..." he says with an annoying tone in his voice.
you know that deep down, inside his hollow body, his heart gave his first beat.
✽ Venti
"hummm depends, if you were a clownfish, then perhaps i would avoid-"
"VENTI!"
the moment that question flew out of your mouth, he gave you a toothy grin, and started to laugh out loud, like you told him the funniest joke he has ever heard. he was playing his lyre, when you came in his "office", which is just a desk with a pen and a piece of paper with a question you wanted to ask him.
---
"venti!"
you came into his office while he was playing his lyre, slacking off, an old tune being played, from his first hundred years as an archon began.
"oh, windblume!! i missed you so much!! you have been gone for so long because of your annoying commissions...but now you're back!! so it's fine now!!"
he gave you a big smile, letting his lyre down, heading to your direction to give you a big hug, hugging you tight.
"um...venti? i have a question for you, and it's very important!! so answer seriously!!"
venti lets go of you, looking at you with a curious face.
"ohhhh!! tell me, tell me!!"
"well...would you still love me if i was a fish?"
"...huh? wait, you aren't serious, right?..."
he tells you, almost bursting of laughter.
"what do you mean?! of course i'm serious!"
that was the final straw for him, he bursted of laughter, almost shedding tears.
"i guess you don't love me that much then..."
you say with a disappointing sigh, walking out of the office, with your shoulders down.
"no, no...wait windblume!! i do love you, wait!"
venti tells you, trying to hold his laughter before you get out of the office...again.
"i do love you windblume, you don't need to worry!! even if you became a fish, which i don't how you could even turn into one, i would still love you, no matter what!"
"you promise?"
he grabs your hand and interlaces your pinky with his.
"i pinky promise!"
even with his harmless little jokes, your heart will never feel betrayed around him.
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try-set-me-on-fire · 11 months
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“this is a very long hug now sort of hug” for the soft prompts 🤭🩵
The call goes ok, in the end. It was a five alarm, called in late in a shift with nothing to do but build anticipation. And it goes fine, except this is the first five alarm Buck's been on shift for since the night he died, and Eddie knows he's not the only one feeling some kind of way about that. It's in the way Bobby inhales before every order he gives Buck, in the way Chimney's jokes are just a little too loud, in the way Hen does a visual assessment every time Buck is in her line of sight. It's in the way Eddie's own heart stops every time he pulls Buck back from falling debris or loses sight of him in the flames. The only person who seems like they're taking things in stride is Buck himself, tackling each task given to him with his usual cheerful determination.
Except they're back at the station now and everyone crawled from the showers to the bunks and Eddie is seconds from nodding off but Buck hasn't come in yet. Eddie has been lying there staring up at the ceiling waiting for him to wander through the doors, safe and in one piece, but the minutes stretch on and on and still he doesn't appear. Eddie curls his hand into a fist, uncurls it, and stands up.
Buck isn't hard to find. Eddie can hear the soft tread of footsteps in the sleeping station, and follows the sound up the stairs to where Buck is pacing from the couches to the kitchen and back again.
"Hey," Eddie says, word coming out on a sigh of something like relief. He'd made no attempt to quiet his approach so Buck doesn't startle at the sound, but he does half in his path. His body is stretched taut as a piano wire.
"Hey," Buck responds. His hands clench and unclench, a trait so shared between them Eddie isn't sure which of the two of it started with anymore. "You're not tired?"
"Exhausted," Eddie says, scrubbing a hand over his face. "But you didn't come to bed."
"Sorry," Buck says and, gentleman that he is, looks genuinely guilty for it. Eddie shakes his head and comes a few steps closer.
"Just wanted to…" Eddie's not sure how to finish the sentence. Make sure you were ok? See you standing with your eyes open, because when we're apart for too long I feel your dead flesh on my palms? That one doesn't even make sense, Buck, I was wearing gloves, but I keep thinking about how cold you must have been, and how still. "Check in."
Buck spreads his hands in a check away gesture, face unhappy. Eddie is grateful he's not hiding it, at least. "I'm… I can't sleep."
Eddie nods, stepping closer again. He just stands there, arms folded, waiting for Buck to continue and breathing evenly in case he needs a pace to match. Buck watches him, chewing his lip.
“It wasn’t even going up the ladder,” he says finally, “that was the hard part.”
“What was the hard part?”
“I slipped a little,” Buck says, and he lets out a little laugh as he says it, eyes wide and shaking his head. “Stupid. Loose tile. I slipped a little and I didn’t even fall, but it felt like I was going to for a second and I thought I was going to die.” He shrugs, big, lips pressed together. “How stupid is that? I was so scared and like- what even would have happened? Even if I had fallen, it would have been fine. Floor was solid. That room wasn’t even on fire yet. But in the moment I really thought I was going to die and it scared the shit out of me, Eds.”
“It’s not stupid,” Eddie says, moving close enough to reach out and touch but not doing it yet. “And hey, you’re a tall guy, long way to fall. With your luck I bet you could have managed a fatality.”
Buck breathes out sharp through his nose, mouth quirking up in one corner. He looks small, and if Eddie had to explain the thought process behind taking the final step and wrapping his arms around him, the honest and nonsensical answer would be that he's checking to make sure Buck is still two inches taller than him. He is, of course, and 6'0" and 6'2" is not much of a difference but Eddie's always appreciated the way Buck's spine curves down around him when they embrace. All the air in Buck's lungs exhales out over Eddie's left shoulder. He can feel his chest sink in with it.
"I'm always… I'll try to catch you," Eddie says. His hands are flat on Buck's back, and he moves one up his spine to rest on his neck. "If you fall."
Buck nods, their hair scraping together. "I know."
They stand there for a while. Eddie thinks he should probably step back, but Buck is relaxing in his arms, and it's warm, and he's still so tired but this feels sort of like dreaming already. He idly rubs Buck's neck, and Buck's hands tangle gently in the back of Eddie's shirt.
"Thanks," Buck whispers, minutes or hours later when the tension holding him rigid is all bled out around their feet. He presses his face into Eddie's shoulder for a second, and Eddie misses it when it's gone. "I think I can sleep now."
"Alright," Eddie whispers, and since this is half a dream anyway he lets his hand cradle Buck's chin for a moment as they part. Buck smiles at him, easy, the brightest thing in here at 3 AM with the kitchen lights set to dim. "Come on."
They walk to the bunks with their shoulders bumping together, and Buck is out seconds after he's down. Eddie, as always, follows right behind him.
send me soft fic prompts!
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Hi! What do you think about a one-shot with gender neutral reader x Ghost with some angst? They loved him for many years but never confessed. He doesn't feel the same way as them due to his issues and even if he knows, he won't mention it.
The Better Alternative (Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)
Summary: Accepting that you'll never have the whirlwind romance with your crush isn't something that happens once. It's a choice you make, to hide your feelings, every day, every interaction, and you make that choice with a glad and heavy heart.
Content warnings: Hurt/No comfort, unrequited feelings (reader for Ghost)
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Masterlist
Air that was too crisp to breathe in deeply without its shards scraping apart your lungs was what greeted your first minute into your break. The cement stairwell was guarded by metal railings, tundra-toned poles that your gloves clung to the moment you leant on them. But at least there was no paperwork for you to instinctively scan or subordinates chasing you down with a question they could easily answer if they applied a few brain cells to the problem.
There was also your favourite… distraction seemed like too flippant a descriptor for Ghost. But it was semi-accurate. Regardless, he was sat on the steps and under a cover, his mask hauntingly lost in tones of black and orange from the glow of his cigarette end.
“You wanna be alone?” You asked. It hadn’t actually been your intention to find him, but you weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Amidst his heavy gear, Ghost’s shoulders shrugged and he said in his baritone, “Fine by me.”
Peeling your gloves away from the poles, you and Ghost’s eye contact shared your united thoughts.
What a shit show, eh?
A cigarette between you, a few moments of quiet, both sets of arms folded as you both stared down the recruits you’d been assigned, glances with an imperceptible nod across the aisle in the medical wing to assure each other you weren’t broken, these titbits of care and trust revealed what your relationship with Ghost was worth. Fucking priceless. Your tiredness blunted your elation at spending your limited free time together but it warmed you nevertheless.
As he reached for the hem of his balaclava, you craned your chin around. His inhale and gravelly sigh reached you over the wind. Smoke breezed past you, the smell clinging to your uniform.
“You don’t have to look away.”
“Hmm?” You still didn’t look around.
“You don’t have to look away,” repeated Ghost.
You knew this already. Force of habit from the year it took for Ghost to reveal himself to you. So he always gave you permission, like he did now. Pale pink lips pursed around the cigarette – a scar slashing the left corner - was the sight that greeted you as you faced him cautiously. It sprung an ache from deep in your chest. This pain was an old friend; you greeted it like one with open arms as you looked upon the slant of Ghost’s jaw. As quickly as you recognised your slip, you redirected your stare to the steel-cap toes of your boots.
In the corner of your eye, you spied Ghost’s arm reaching out to you, the cigarette balanced between two skeletal fingers. You declined.
“Something on your mind?” Ghost asked as he brought his arm back under the cover.
You tilted your head forward slightly, allowing the breeze to catch the back of your neck, “The usual.”
A curt nod was all you were offered in response. Then: 
“Where’s General Shepherd keep his armies?”
Your lips twisted in thought before you shrugged.
The corner of Ghost’s mouth quirked before he spoke again, “Up his sleevies.”
Your laughter had to be smothered until it sounded like you were coughing, your shoulders jerking with unpredictable mirth at the way Ghost said “sleevies”. It was far funnier than the actual joke, and far better was the little “heh” that Ghost let out at the end.
“What do you call an old snowman?” He said, evidently intending a quickfire round.
Sucking through your teeth, you hazarded a guess, “A puddle?”
Ghost watched you blankly as he drew from his cigarette before stubbing it out on the steps.
He spoke after a few more seconds, “My version was ‘water’.”
“That makes more sense.”
You never could say your honest feelings out loud, so you diluted them down to something far more toothsome. It was something you did to everyone anyway, so you doubted it ever aroused any suspicion. At first, it ruffled Ghost’s feathers, sending him striding away stiffly. But nowadays he just accepted it. Once in a blue moon, he responded with his own. Even so, moments like these kept you grounded when you were sick with longing. How could you ever risk losing that for the longest shot at a romance?
As Ghost reached into his top pocket for his cigarette packet, he asked you in his most casual timbre, “Have you think about what you’ll do after?”
Ghost could be a chatterbox, a morbid and brutal chatterbox. So the second-cousin to his dead-dog jokes – casual existentialism – shouldn’t have thrown you as much as it did. Yet your mind went blank watching him light his second cigarette. A flash of a fantasy crossed your eyes but you were too disciplined in your emotions now to entertain it.  
“Not really, except that I’ll have to dip into my retirement fund for a spa day.” You gave a half-hearted huff at your shite joke. You really should leave those to him. “What about you?”
“No.” And he took another drag from his cigarette.
That was your little reminder as to why you’d never reveal your feelings. Even if you saw fragments of fractures of a future, Ghost saw none. A bitter pill you took daily for that ache in your chest and you would take it for as long as this affection afflicted you.
Your five minutes were up.
“Back to the shit show,” You pushed towards the base again, still drinking in the smoke, “See you inside.”
Ghost grunted back as he listened to your fading footsteps. At the bang of the exterior door, he slumped forwards, his elbow precariously balanced on his knee, a gloved hand supporting his chin.
Seeing you hide in pain for years was his cross to bear. He knew you didn’t mind him breaking your heart over and over, even preferred it to the alternative. He just wished it was a one and done situation, that there was a gentler way for him to do it, or that he could give you what you wanted.
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AN: Thank you for the request! My first one for COD! I'm very happy with how this turned out. I gotta write something hurt/comfort now though because the no comfort has me very Emotional(TM). Let me know if you have any thoughts or requests you'd like me to write/brainstorm with y'all!
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bloodycyrano · 1 month
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I am extremely mentally fucked right now, so let's see how team tadpole handles their depressive episodes! TW, this will probably be super depressing to read.
Astarion: He thinks he hides it really well, and for the most part, he does. But his motivation for easy, everyday tasks and self care goes absolutely down the drain. You've seen the inside of his tent, you know how it goes. He tries to keep up the image of doing well, keep the smile, keep the jokes coming. He's terrified of people finding out what's underneath, and in hiding it, he feels like he has the upper hand. He doesn't, and he needs therapy. I'd also put money on him hypersexualizing himself for the validation and to feel like he was worth something. After all, Cazador beat it into him that that was all he was good for. Luring in pray with his body. - We also know that Astarion has nightmares, but I'd like to add to this with the reminder that Elves don't sleep. They trance. In the trance, they go over the memories of their past. It's how they keep up with such long lives and how they stay close to past lives as children (For those who dont know, elves don't measure age in maturity, but rather by distance to their past lives- Once an elf can no longer recall memories from their past life, they are considered an adult. They pick their adult name in celebration of the new person and consciousness that they now are). The fact that Astarion can remember nothing of his life prior to being turned by Cazador, nothing of his family, etc., Means that he is so deeply affected by Cazador that those memories are the only things he can see when he goes to rest at night. Every night, in perfect detail, he has to remember all of his worst trauma.
Karlach: Karlach is the sunshine character. She's sweet, and loud and bright with the biggest smile, but you also have to remember that she was a soldier. She was sold off to a literal demon and used as a science experiment essentially for the hell of it. She's not going to open up about what she's feeling immediately, and she's not going to seek help, either. She thinks she has to deal with it quietly and on her own, because since her parents died; that's what she's always had to do. Chin up, no tears, keep fighting. It's going to stress her out to the point where she starts smoking again, but she'll try to hide it or brush it off. Most importantly, she's going to be more focussed on not burdening those around her and trying to take care of you guys and protect you at the expense of her own mental health and physical safety. But her sorrows are noticeable. She can try to hide it, but everyone in camp knows. Everyone in camp is worried. Everyone can see when her eyes stop glimmering, when she stops dancing around in her tent when she can't sleep, when her bright laughter stops, and when she gets quiet. So quiet. She zones out, like she's in another realm entirely. She probably also has post traumatic stress from her time as a soldier, and it's going to weigh on her heavily in battle. Maybe she'll freeze up, have flashbacks, even potentially have small hallucinations now and again. It's going to take a lot of care and reassurance to get her to talk to you about it, but when she finally does, she'll probably have a complete meltdown with all the feelings she's been keeping inside.
Wyll: Wyll self isolates. He gets much quieter, and he probably isn't going to be too open to talking about it unless he's really close to you. He gets a little cold when talking to people, but he's good at resolving things in his head and the most likely to rationalize his feelings to make himself feel better. He also probably writes poetry, or even paints his feelings as a form of expressing his sorrows because he understands he needs some outlet so he isn't bottling everything up. He has the heart of an artist, and this is a hill I am prepared to die on.
Gale: He has a hard time talking when he's sad, and probably has difficulty making eye contact as well. He'd probably be more inclined to seek out comfort and vent than the rest of team tadpole, but that doesn't take away from the complexity of his emotions. He's angry, and sad, and feels so so shitty just about being who he is in general. He's fallen so far from where he once was, and for what? He'll do is best to rationalize, but his anxiety is going to push into paranoia, and rationalizing is going to turn into self loathing. He's going to try his best to be more useful, and show off, and earn the validation he craves because without that, what is he? He was a prodigy child. He used to be so, so great. Even the goddess of magic herself thought so. Now he's rotting away in a camp full of strangers and trying to re-learn level one spells. It's taking a toll on him, and it's noticeable to anyone willing to look.
Shadowheart: She's trying to pray. The goddess she has been devoted to all her life is the lady of loss. There is a great amount of sorrow in the way she worships, and in her suffering, she finds faith. She tells herself it's her next step to becoming a dark justiciar. Delving further into her faith and trusting in the dark depths of her soul, and her pain. All it ever truly does is make her hurt, though.
Lae'zel: Lae’zel is truly a specimen built on stoicism. If you ask her what's wrong, she will tell you but it will also be in such a way that you wonder if she's really processing all of her pain. The thing is, she's thinking about it. She has the emotional intelligence to understand the way she's feeling and how to fix it, but for some reason unknown to her, she can't. And that's what's going to stress her out and hurt her the most. She knows what theoretically should fix the pain, but it's not working the way that it should. She's going to wonder if it's something wrong with her, or the way she's going about it. She might get angry with other people more often, and try to project blame onto someone so that maybe she can find a way to resolve the way that it hurts. But she can't. She'll keep throwing temporary solutions and misplaced anger into the void until she finds something to distract from it. And maybe, after a lot of contemplation and positive outside help from the rest of team tadpole, she may find peace.
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lovings4turn · 8 months
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could you maybe plz write something w/ steve harrington coming out as bi to his gf?? he’s just my lil bi boy and i feel like it’d be cute 🥹
☆ you're still you (s.h.)
— steve has something important to tell you, and you're there to reassure him
+ as a bi girlie myself,, bi steve holds a special place in my heart so i love this idea — is it the most realistic portrayal? no but its fun n cute and thats what matters!
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instantly, you can tell that something isn't right.
the first sign: steve doesn't immediately hug you when you open the door.
he still envelopes you into his arms at the speed of light, sure, but there's a moment of hesitation that is never normally present when it comes to you. you're willing to brush it off, until the strange behaviour continues.
the second sign: your normally talkative and clingy boyfriend is acting oddly quiet, and his jokes and comments towards the movie you're currently watching seem almost forced.
it's after his fifth halfhearted joke of the evening that you pause the movie, turning to face your boyfriend despite his protests and complaints.
"we were just getting to the best part!" steve whines, a teasing pout playing on his lips.
"steve," you begin, voice soft. steve notices the way you're acting, treating him as though he's a wounded animal, and it's like he knows exactly where this conversation is going.
"i'm fine," he says, voice firm but still soft. it's a tone reserved only for when he doesn't want to speak about something, which does nothing to quell your growing suspicions.
his hand goes to rest on your arm, the touch grounding, and he runs his palm up and down your skin in a soothing motion. "don't worry about me, baby, 'm okay."
"but you're not, steve. you've been acting off all night."
you aren't annoyed, no, you're the furthest thing from it right now. concerned is more of an apt word. you take his silence as a sign to keep talking, knowing if you press just a little longer, he'll come out with it.
"steve, babe, i just wanna know what's wrong," you say, putting your hand on top of his own and squeezing it in a show of reassurance. "hate seeing you like this and not being able to do anything about it."
steve sighs, and the force of his exhale causes his body to shake slightly.
"alright," he mumbles, more to himself in an effort to build up the courage to confess whatever it was he was holding so close to his chest.
"i like you," he begins, wetting his lips with his tongue as he weighs over his next words carefully. "but i... i think i might also like boys, as well..?"
his voice turns up at the end of his statement, making it more of a question as he scans your face for any sign of a reaction. he looks scared, and it hurts you to think steve had felt a level of worry or shame about admitting such a thing.
giving him your most reassuring look, you pull him into a tight hug and can practically feel his body go limp with relief, muscles no longer tense and alert.
"oh steve," you hum, pulling back to cup his face with your hand. his deep, brown eyes are wide as they look into your own, and you can't help but pepper kisses all over his face, delighting in the sound of a laugh escaping his lips. "is that all? you're still you, y'know. it doesn't matter to me, not one bit."
after a pause, you give him a cheeky grin, nodding towards the tv.
"now i see why you're so obsessed with 'ferris bueller's day off'," you tease. "ferris and sloane are quite the eye candy."
as he shoves your shoulder with a disgusted groan, unable to hide the wide smile spreading across his lips, you can't help but feel your heart swell.
your normal steve is back, and you couldn't be happier.
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mediocrevideopodcast · 2 months
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Request: I don't really know where to request stuff, but what about Zib x Nervous Reader? Like how a slow-burn romance would go, how Zib would feel and how he would treat them, romantic gestures, and comfort.
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Unsurprisingly, it can be a little  hard to get to know Zib. Sarcastic, blunt, and usually under the influence, Zib isn't exactly the most approachable member of the Lackadaisy crew. That doesn't mean he isn't friendly, not by any means. In fact, he's one of the most level-headed, caring people in the bunch. He's just learned to hide it a bit. Tender hearts often go sour in this business. A bit of courage and effort goes  a long way with Zib. 
Although if you're part of the crew, there's a decent enough chance he'll warm up to you on his own, too. If Mitzi thinks you're good enough to add to the family, then he won't question it too much. Although he can't help but wonder what it is you do, considering your skittish demeanor. It's part of what draws him closer -- part of him likes the mystery. But truthfully, the other part of him mistakes your nervousness for naivety, and there's a quiet voice within him that doesn't want that kindness to go out. It's a shitty life they run -- you should be able to keep your light. 
When Zib cares for you, it's obvious, yet subtle to outsiders. He keeps an eye on you in the bar, stays close to you when walking down the streets. He's also more lax with his affections, leaning on you a bit more, both physically and emotionally. But you know he's invested when he really starts to speak. Not quips, not sardonic interjections or jokes, but actually talking to you. He's a deep thinker, and not just because of the booze. He's well-read, and deeply intelligent. If you can get  him to talk about his favorite books, or his music, or even philosophy… it should be taken as a point of pride. 
Actually falling in love with Zib is a gradual process, though. One of those romances where you wake up, and suddenly you realize you've been married for the past 7 years. 
He doesn't believe in hard-and-fast traditions like his parents did, but his quiet attempts to grow closer really stand out considering how well you know him at this point. He leaves little room for worry or question, and yet, it rarely feels overwhelming. He's casual, yet straightforward. And damn if it doesn't make your heart flutter. 
The brush of a hand, a pointed glance during a slow set, honeyed words spoken effortlessly yet earnestly… If he didn't have a warrant out for his arrest, he'd be the type to serenade you from your balcony. Maybe he would have, had you met when you were younger. 
(Some nights, when he's lain up in bed in a drunken stupor, he imagines that exact scenario. He'd be lying if he said it didn't make him soft.) 
Despite what some may think, Zib is a very devout romantic. If he had the funds, he'd love to treat you to a night out, like all the wild records sing of. Good food and good music were two of the things that kept Zib going for a long time, even if only one of those things are still within his means. But, as a self-proclaimed nomad, his greatest wish would be to travel the world with you. There's so much to see and experience out there, away from dreary St. Louis. But it's only half as good when you're alone -- it's so much sweeter with someone by your side. 
Funnily enough, he's one of the best possible partners of the Lackadaisy bunch for a nervous partner. He's straightforward, rarely sugarcoating things or telling white lies. As such… there's not much to worry about with him. You won't have to worry if he's telling the truth, if he thinks you're too quiet or too loud or strange. If he has a thought, he'll say it. He's honest like that. 
If he's ever too blunt with you though, he picks up on it quickly. He's a master of reading body language, and he knows how to apologize properly. He's very sweet when it comes down to it. Genuine. 
He's also not above navigating you away from anxiety-inducing situations, when need be. Again, he's fantastic with body language, and he knows how to lie his way out of an event or gathering. People generally don't question how many smoke breaks he's taken per hour. 
He can't fix everything for you -- he knows that. But you'll never have to worry about whether or not he loves you. He might not say those exact three words on the daily, but there's never a moment of doubt within you. He'll make sure of it. 
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Hi love I love your stories!
I was wondering could you do a story where Lando is just burnt out and exhausted from a triple header weekend and is just jet lagged and breakdown and just wants to be with reader
Idk if that makes sense if not interpret however works best
Thanks 🧡
Burnt Out - LN
I'm going to add in that the exhaustion was causing some slip ups in the last weekend of the triple header
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Y/n looks at Lando as they get home, he's been quiet since they left the paddock. Just on a mission to get home and now they're back he looks almost hollowed out.
"Do you want to eat?" She asks almost hesitantly while Lando looks at her for a moment.
"I'm going to bed. You coming?" Lando mutters earning a slightly sad smile before she shakes her head since she slept on the plane, though so did he.
"I'm hungry but I'll catch up with you later." Y/n states trying not to sigh as he moves over kissing her cheek and then shuffling off and disappearing.
She ends up doing their washing and making herself a meal which she then leaves some leftovers for Lando but during her cleaning up from cooking she's almost given a heart attack when she feels arms wrap around her. Only getting such a fright because she'd put headphones on to listen to music and disturb Lando's rest as little as possible.
"Hey, how was your sleep?" Y/n asks softly, reaching up to his head and running her hand through his hair. But when she doesn't get a response, she turns around to properly face him. "Baby?"
She moves them both to sit down where Lando rubs his face into her chest.
"Baby, what's wrong?"
"I fucked up on that qualifying. I fucked up and it keeps replaying in my head and I'm so fucking tired. We're doing more races next year and all the travelling and I'm ignoring you and my family-I don't even know the last time we had sex!"
Y/n has seen Lando in bad ways as a result of his career, the weeks following Russia he was just a different person. Though he tried to portray a quick ego recovery, really he still can't forgive himself for the mistake that cost him his first win.
"Lando-"
"And I come back and lie in bed for hours while ignoring you and being a dick and you leave me to it because you don't want to upset me. You are the best thing in my life and I never thank you enough for it."
"Lando...you are just exhausted. You need to rest. It's been a heavy few weekends and you are more than deserving of some time off." Y/n smiles sadly moving towards him and kissing him softly, pulling his hands up to hold her waist. "Stop being so hard on yourself baby. You are the most incredible boyfriend and the best person I know. By MILES."
"I love you." Lando mumbles making her smile at him but the sad element to it is very much present. "And I don't deserve you, even if you think I do. I don't you are just the best person ever and you deserve someone who is there for you in the same way you're there for them. I'm not."
"You're too hard on yourself. Do you think I'd sit here. and be here for you if I didn't want to be or I thought I could get better?" Y/n asks with almost an unimpressed expression. "How about...we have a bath, you can relax and the you're going to sleep and we can cuddle?"
"Yes." Lando confirms before moving over and kissing her. "And once I've slept for a bit, we;'re having the most feral, rabid, unhinged, mind blowing, blinding sex."
"That's a big promise." Y/n jokes before smiling as he carries her into the bedroom and sort of dumps her down on the bed. He climbs onto her and groans rubbing his face into her stomach. "This isn't a bath."
"I got us half way there."
"You did." Y/n laughs then gently pushing him. "Stay here, I'll be back."
"You'll be back." Lando hums, his green eyes heavy on her as he watches her get up from the bed and move through to the bathroom. Running him a bath and sighing as she FaceTimes him making him smile because his girlfriend his the laziest kind of genius. In which she'll leave her phone in there on FaceTime to keep an eye on the water but also be able to come back to cuddle with Lando since it's a huge bath that takes ages to fill.
She moves back towards him and sighs softly as he returns to lying with his face smushed into her tummy.
"I don't think I believed it when people said there was more to life than F1 before I met you..." Lando whispers making her suck in a breath tensing a little just because her boyfriend sounds so completely sad. "I mean it, even when we met and we started dating I thought you'd leave because you wouldn't understand how important F1 is. But you proved me wrong and here I am telling you how I'm not as good as you deserve."
"You're an idiot, Lando. You really are." Y/n sighs shaking her head. "You don't get to decide what I deserve. That's up to me, and I think I'm more than deserving of you."
Lando stays quiet while she sighs and looks at him.
-
After a bath in which Lando did get a head massage while y/n washed his hair and then gave him a full skincare routine, which he'd publicly condemn but actually he loves how gently y/n touches his face and just pampers him into relaxing. She also made sure to use every product he doesn't use, despite all of them being bought specifically to define his curls, on his hair while drying it.
It's not as if it happens often, so he just embraces the moments. Plus she gets so happy when he lets her use all her expensive skincare stuff on him.
"You should get back into streaming. You love streaming."
"I think I have higher priorities over streaming." Lando murmurs while she tsks as if he's lying.
"And those would be?"
"The feral, rabid, unhinged, mind blowing, blinding sex." Lando smirks a little while she gently swats at his head lightly which makes him laugh.
Clearly all her efforts have paid off because the Lando she knows and loves is very much back with her.
"You know, rather than waiting till we get home. You can tell me when you're beginning to feel a bit shitty. I might be able to help in the moment." Y/n sighs while Lando smiles brightly at her the moving up her body and kissing her several times before moving his head and kissing her neck with his teeth catching her skin.
They both know they're both too tired for sex, but maybe in the morning they'll have it in them to give each other the best orgasms after being so withdrawn from being intimate with each other.
"You going to sleep?" Y/n asks making Lando hum since his body is getting heavier against her as he sort of goes dead weight.
Finally he falls asleep and she feels a sense of her mission being completely. He'll be better in the morning, all his exhaustion and emotions just caught up with him because he tries to pretend that everything is ok even when people know it's really not ok. He just has some sort of need to pretend that he's fine.
It's not as if matters that much in y/n's mind because she'll always determined to do whatever she needs to in order to perk up his mood and make him feel better. Whether it's ahead of the next race or in a break of the season.
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thewertsearch · 1 year
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TheWertsearch shipping chart
Ver. 1, Act 5.1
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Let's get into it!
I've included every Player and a couple of wildcards. I thought about adding minor characters like the Guardians and Exiles, but we don't know too much about their dynamics yet. For what it's worth, I think the first three Exiles would be a cute triad, and might add WQ when we've seen more of her. I don't really ship any of the Guardians, since we know next to nothing about their personalities.
I'm going to mostly focus on potential dynamics. There aren't many canon ships in here, but hopefully that'll change as we move through the comic, because I honestly got pretty invested in some of these while working on this post. Let's dive in!
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Hearts
Rose/Kanaya is an obvious lock. I've talked about it before, and my thoughts haven't really changed, so I won't repeat myself here. Their dynamic is great, and it's even better now that we know Kanaya used to idolize Rose. I can't wait to see them talk that one out. At this point, I'm 100% convinced that they should be a couple, and about 90% convinced that it's going to happen in canon. Bring on the #RosemarySweep!
John/Karkat is an intriguing prospect. John's optimism is exactly what a sourpuss like Karkat needs, and their conversations are clearly having a positive effect on him. Conversely, Karkat's decisive leadership style might, in time, rub off on John. The two complement each other well - and since it's clear that Karkat doesn't really hate John, I think they're well-placed for a red romance, rather than a black one.
Karkat/Nepeta has potential. Nepeta clearly sees something in him, and I don't think it's just the 'cat' in his name. They both have a romantic streak, although neither of them seems all that experienced with (concupiscent) romance. I don't know, I just think it might be cute! I could also envision a minor moirallegiance between them. Karkat isn't that hot-tempered, but chilling out with Nepeta and bouncing ships off each others' heads might help him let off some steam.
Tavros/Gamzee would be pretty cute. Tavros is used to being Vriska's punching bag - and, more broadly, he's used to conversations where you're supposed to be punching. Gamzee, too, is frequently insulted, even by people who call themselves his friends. Bring these two trolls together, though, and Alternia's antagonistic social norms completely disappear. They're a breath of fresh air, and I think they deserve a quiet corner in the Veil to play Fiduspawn together.
Terezi/Vriska would make a great power couple, and I want to see them take on the world together - but I don't see it happening any time soon. They both have a lot of growing to do - and besides, I think another quadrant is in the cards first.
Jack/Droog. Yes, really. This one isn't complex, I just think they'd be funny together. Plus, a hot-blooded, stab happy gangster pairs perfectly with a stone-cold, calculating partner. It's like cookies and cream!
Dave/Jade is another one I've discussed before. Jade is playfully, authentically herself, and Dave, who's still treating life like a bit he needs to commit to, might have something to learn from her. There's a real person behind that persona, and Jade likes him.
I'm a Jade/Rose truther - but there's not much to report on this, since the game seems intent on keeping them from interacting much. Hopefully Act 5.2 will see them working together in the Medium, and we can really shine a light on this dynamic.
Gamzee/Eridan was initially a joke ship. Eridan wants a matesprit, but he'd only date a highblood, and Gamzee's the only one without that quadrant filled, so Eridan better learn to ride a unicycle. Except... weirdly enough, it sort of works? Unlike Feferi, Gamzee wouldn't be stressed out by being around Eridan - and despite what you might expect, Eridan doesn't even seem to dislike Gamzee. He opened up to him about Feferi, at least a little - and even slammed a Faygo when Gamzee suggested it. When talking to Gamzee, Eridan wouldn't be able to dance around the point, like he was doing with Feferi and Kanaya. Gamzee wouldn't pick on his 'hints', so he'd have to resort to direct, open communication, which might be good for him. Plus - you can say a lot of things about Eridan, but he sure ain't a quitter. Gamzee's Sopor addiction would annoy the hell out of him, and there's a decent chance he might actually be able to annoy him off the stuff. If we go with the moirallegiance angle, Gamzee would probably leave Eridan too baffled to give into any Alternian bloodlust - and any overblown genocide plans would fly right over Gamzee's head. Wow, this really did start as a joke, but I'm beginning to convince myself. I... guess we'll see what happens?
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Diamonds
I'm convinced Kanaya -> Terezi would work. Terezi is violent and dangerous - but unlike Vriska, her violence takes the form of mind games. Kanaya is good at mind games, and I think she'd make an excellent, Machiavellian moirail for Terezi, using ConversationWithAVeryStupidGirl.txt-style rhetorical traps to trick her into good behavior. She could even collaborate with her future girlfriend, Rose, to design clever ways to keep Terezi from getting more of her friends killed. And you know Terezi would love it.
That leaves Vriska unattended. We can't have that, so it's time to make a case for Feferi -> Vriska. I think Feferi would make a lot more progress with Vriska than she ever did with Eridan. The biggest problem with Eridan was that he was insincere - he wasn't honest about his proclivities or intentions, and Feferi was working her ass off just to figure out what he was thinking. By contrast, Vriska is extremely sincere about her emotions - I don't think she can fake a feeling. Feferi will know exactly what she's getting with Vriska, because Vriska will constantly tell her. Feferi could pacify Vriska, I'm sure of it. She's cheerful, persistent, physically powerful, immune to Vriska's psionics, and has killed thousands to feed her lusus. Feferi understands Vriska.
Sollux <--> Aradia is a potential bidirectional moirallegiance. They both have their violent moods, and they know each other well enough to recognize and help each other through them. Aradia could potentially use her necromancy to get the soon-to-be-dead out of Sollux's head - and he might be able to remove Aradia's violent impulses entirely, using his technical know-how to revert Equius' changes and turn her body into a true reflection of her living self. Honestly, they still have a shot at hearts, too - but I think diamonds is the way to go for now.
Feferi -> Equius might work - he'd have to listen to a violet-blood. Plus, spending time with the princess might help Equius learn that the Empire is bullshitting him about the hemospectrum. After all, she's at the top of the totem pole - and yet, she's against a lot of what the Empire stands for. What gives?
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Spades
Jack\Lord English was originally just a joke, but I've decided to start shipping it earnestly for shits and giggles - especially since we've learned about kismesissitude, a quadrant they fit perfectly into. Maybe there's more than one reason that Slick was so single-minded about catching the guy.
To be honest, Vriska\Terezi is basically inevitable. There's no way they peacefully talked it out during the session, and now they're stuck on a tiny meteor together. These are resourceful girls - they're probably already plotting their next moves, and they'd be fools not to factor each other into whatever plans they're making. They will come to blows, and then they'll realize how much they're enjoying the experience. I think this will be our first truly balanced kismesissitude, and I'm very interested in seeing where the chips fall.
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Clubs
Aradia -> Vriska/Tavros. Someone needs to keep these two apart. Robot!Aradia doesn't have the ideal temperament for auspisticism, but things are far from ideal at this point. She's Tavros' old FLARP teammate, and even in her current state, she's still invested in his well-being. This might also be a way for Aradia to reconcile with Tavros, since it doesn't seem like they've spoken much since they died. What does Tavros think of this new Aradia, and will his opinion change if she starts to intercede against Vriska on his behalf? I want to find out.
Feferi -> Equius/Aradia. This one would be so easy. All Feferi would need to do is tell Equius to back the fuck off, and he'd be obliged to obey. I don't like the hemospectrum, but if we're stuck with it for now, let's at least use it for good, hm?
That's it! It was the first shipping chart I've ever made, and I had a lot of fun with it. I'll be doing this again the next time we 'finish' an Act, and it'll be interesting to see how this evolves over time.
See you next time, for the beginning of Act 5.2!
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sweetflanfiction · 9 months
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Second Chances - Part 3
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Universe: Read Dead Redemption 2
Pairing: Arthur x reader
Disclaimers and Warnings: I just realized that the whole farming thing is very similar from the epilogues. It was definetly no intentional! Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about 1899 is from google, so inacuracies will be plenty. The reader is on the older side, and identifies as a female
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5
• ··········· • ············ •
“Fight them demons.”
He heard it inside his mind. He hadn’t seen the deer again, his mind wandering through green forests and cool lakes. The only time he saw it again, it disappeared at the entrance to a familiar campsite.
“Arthur my boy!” He heard behind him. His heart pounded as he turned but he saw nothing. “One more job Arthur!” 
“No!” He shouted. “You always have a plan! One more job! No more!"
“Don’t let the demons get you…” A soft woman’s voice whispered.
“We…need…the…money!” The older man’s voice enunciated each word.
“No more!” He said to the sky. “People died for you! I died for you! Hosea! Sean! No more."
The campsite changed a couple of times. Sometimes it was two small wooden cabins in the snow, sometimes it was a big dilapidated house in the south. The world spun around him and he fell to his knees.
“No more.” He mumbled
“Fight them demons.” The voice whispered and he nodded absently.
“I’m done…No more.” He said and his mind became black.
• ··········· • ············ •
A few more days passed and the stranger got progressively better, to the point where your father had almost demanded that you keep the door open at all times when you were inside giving him his medicine. He was still quiet, obedient, sad and incapable of anything other than breathing, eating and sleeping. Whether the last part was because of sickness or his state of mind you didn’t know.
As usual, you kept helping the stray and it ate you inside that, unlike the animals, he didn't react accordingly. It didn’t make you angry or frustrated, but it made you feel sad too.
“When can I leave?” He asked one evening when you started to leave the room.
“Whenever you want.” You said and he hummed.
“Why did you save me?” He asked again and you stopped and turned around. He was eloquent and conscious, but most surprising, he talked in full sentences.
“Because I couldn’t come home knowing someone was dying out there.” You said and leaned back on the wall.
“I wasn’t dying. I was already dead.” He stated with conviction, looking up when you chuckled.
“Well, I might just have to call the priest then, seeing as you seem to have resurrected from a cave in the mountain." You joked but his face was blank, so you turned serious. "Listen, you either came back to life or at least three people have gone mad and have been talking with a ghost.”
“You should have left me there.” He looked up at the ceiling.
“Maybe. But I didn’t.” You sighed. “Listen, the truth is you ain't dead, not even close to it. You had the flu accompanied by a mighty fever. You seem better now…whenever you wanna leave, just walk down the stairs and out the door. Ain’t nobody gonna stop you from getting back to where you came from, back into your own life and loved ones." 
His brows furrowed at the last part of the phrase.
“But…” You continued and he turned his head to look at you. “I talked to Pa and you can stay here a little while longer than needed. The ranch is very large, and we are always in need of help. If you want to stay until you get your mind together, you can. If not, like I said, the door is downstairs.” 
He kept looking at you, studying you from across the room.
“Why would you offer a complete stranger a seat at your table?” He asked, his expression changing between blank and questioning. “For all you know I can kill your whole family, rob you, burn your house down, kill your kids.”
“I can hear you pacing in this room at night, when you think we are sleeping.” I smiled softly when his eyes widened. “You pace back and forth, and when the floor creaks, you stop. This means you’re mobile. In all fairness we did sleep with our guns the first night that happened, but then we realized that you didn’t even try to leave the room. The door has been unlocked this whole time and you never made a run for it. So, correct me if I’m wrong but whatever your end game is, it doesn’t involve harming us.”
The man’s face changed expression three times in five seconds. Initially, it was guilty, then it was angry, and finally it was defeated.
“Y’all don’t even know my name.” He said under his breath. “Hell, I don’t even know y'all's names.”
You told him your name, walking towards the bed, one hand extended. He moved slightly, his brows betraying his blank expression, telling you he tensed up at your movement. He pulled himself up to lean on his elbows and grabbed your hand firmly but not threateningly.
“Arthur M…Callahan…Arthur Callahan.” He announced and you nodded.
“Welcome back into the living world Mr. Callahan.” You smiled softly, shaking his hand.
• ··········· • ············ •
The two manly voices from upstairs kept an amicable tone as you strained to listen. You were sitting at the bottom of the stairs with the two family dogs keeping you company. Much to your delight, both men seemed to be calmly discussing something.
When you told your father about the plan to ask the stranger to stay and help he looked at you sideways, a furry black eyebrow raised upwards, leaning back into his chair. He had learned over the years to listen to your opinion, much like he had done with your mother, and take it into serious consideration.
You had placed your arguments on the table: the ranch was indeed in need of help for the upcoming season; most of the families in charge of the surrounding lands weren't getting any younger, you being one of the youngest and even then you weren't exactly a teenager and finally, your instinct kept nagging that the man somehow had nothing left to go back to.
"Oh if it's your instinct then…sign him right up." Your father grumbled sarcastically.
But at the moment he seemed to be having a conversation with the man. He was either laying down some rules or letting him know the fastest way to the train station. The voices grew quieter and you jerked your head back up the stairs as you saw not only your father, but the stranger, Arthur following behind him.
He was wearing the clothes you'd found him in. They had been washed, but you didn't stitch the holes.
"Well, it seems like Mr. Callahan will help us for a while." Your father stated, coming down the stairs. "I'm gonna grab the horses and give the man a tour of the ranch."
"Alright." You replied getting up from your place on the stairs and looking up at the men. "Miss Brant asked me to help her set up the beehives that had arrived."
The older man nodded. You looked back at the almost healthy Arthur.
"Glad to see you up and walking, Mr. Callahan." He nodded silently and you left, grabbing a hat from the hanger by the door.
• ··········· • ············ •
You arrived late in the evening, your horse on a rhythmic trot. The house was mostly dark, but the front porch had a soft orange glow coming from a lit lantern that your father usually left outside if you weren't home after the sun went down.
There was a shadow next to the lantern and you soon discovered Arthur sitting next to it, looking at the darkness in front of him. Lost in thought, he didn't hear you approach, didn't even notice when you stopped Dusk right near him.
"Hello Mr. Callahan." You tilted your hat to the man, still seated on your horse.
His head jerked and he snapped up to look at you, surprised by your sudden appearance.
"Oh.." he cleared his throat and nodded his head. "Good evening Miss Graham."
"You alright there?" You asked leaning into your saddle horn.
"Ah…just thinkin' I guess. It's the first time I've been out at night after the whole…ordeal." He trailed off and shook his head. "Your father didn't seem very worried about you not showing up for dinner." 
"Bad news travels fast in Captain's Corner. If something had gone wrong, he'd know." You said, only moving to pat Dusk's white mane. 
"Captain's Corner?" The man asked with a hint of, what you assume was, alarm in his tone.
You stood straight in your seat and opened your arms, gesturing to the air around you.
"It's the name of the land Mr. Callahan!" You said enthusiastically "Welcome to Captain's Corner Ranches."
• ··········· • ············ •
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finn-m-corvex · 5 months
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Whumptober 2023 Day 11 - Animal Trap
Day 11! I feel like someone should be adapting this into a Christmas song at this point but that person sure as hell isn't going to be me. My musical skill is literally ass. But at least my writing's pretty damn good if I do say so myself!
@splinnters four more to go! Glad you're loving them so far ^^ it makes me so happy
Words: 2.1k
They were running, crashing through the tunnels and doing their best not to trip on any rocks as they went. Jay was in the front of the Ninja pack, following behind the Munce as he ran ahead on powerful legs that no one else in their ragtag group shared. He knew Lloyd and Nya were with him, but he had no idea if the others had managed to make it into their tunnel or if they had gone a different way.
“Murt!” he yelled, dodging a low hanging rock jutting from the ceiling that would’ve sliced his forehead open if he hadn’t been quick enough. “How much farther?”
Lloyd caught up to him, running side by side but looking like he was struggling to keep up at Jay’s pace. “The others aren’t here! We have to go back!”
“We can’t go back!” Nya yelled from behind them. She already knew that she couldn’t run as fast as Jay so she wasn’t even trying. “The Skull Sorceror is back there! We’ll regroup with them eventually!”
Jay could still hear the ruckus echoing through the tunnels, small pebbles raining down from the ceiling as the earth rocked around them. He hoped to the First Master that there wouldn’t be a cave-in, because he had no idea what they were going to do if that happened.
Murt came to a halting stop in front of them, and Jay had to slam on his internal brakes to keep from crashing into the Munce. Lloyd and Nya both crashed into his back, and the three of them fell in a heap onto the hard ground, and Jay groaned as both of their weights settled on top of his. “Do you mind? You two aren’t exactly light, you know,”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Nya said dangerously as she got off of him, and Jay’s brain froze as he registered what he just said.
“N-Nothing! It was nothing.”
“You better hope it was nothing,” Nya growled, and even though Jay could tell she was joking his heart still hammered away in his chest. Lloyd snickered off to the side, and Jay had to restrain himself from smacking his little brother upside the head. Murt looked back and forth between two tunnels, the other two Munce with him also looking very confused.
His heart dropped when he realized that they might be lost in the tunnels. “Which way, Murt?”
Weird glowing crystal thingy flickering on its stick, Murt finally turned around to address Jay directly. “It might be this way, but it could also be this way?”
“That’s great! But do you know which way?”
“Hmm,” Murt rubbed his chin in thought. “Could be this way, but it might be that way.”
Lloyd sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not very helpful, Murt-”
But he was interrupted by an earth-shattering sound of rock falling, and Jay paled as he realized that the cave was starting to collapse just as he feared it would. He could see the cracks forming in the ceiling, spreading rapidly as dust sprinkled on the shoulders of their gi and pebbles fell from above. It wasn’t safe here, they needed to move.
Jay pushed the Munce aside, trusting his brother and Yang to follow behind him. “RUN!”
And that’s what they did.
Left, right, left, left again—Jay kept picking tunnel after tunnel, trusting his gut to lead him the right way. Everyone was sprinting behind him, and it dawned on him that he was actually leading the group. If anything happened, it was going to happen to him first, and he was determined to keep it that way.
He kept running even after the shaking had ceased and the tunnel had gone quiet, mostly due to the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, but he really should’ve stopped to look where he was going.
Jay abruptly screamed as sharp teeth dug into his leg with a loud crack, ripping through his gi and lodging themselves deep into the limb. He went down like a log, hitting the ground harshly before he could try to catch himself. Trying to move his leg only made pain shoot up his leg, causing him to cry out again as blood started soaking into his pant leg.
“Jay! What happened?” Lloyd shouted. Jay was gasping, finally managing to catch his breath despite the fiery inferno forming in his calf.
“Stop!” he yelled back down the tunnel; he hadn’t realized how far away the others had gotten. “There’s traps!”
“Traps?!” Nya yelled back, “Jay! Are you okay?”
“I’m stuck!” except he was definitely more than stuck.
And looking down at what was keeping him there almost made him sick.
It was a trap like ones that hunters would use to catch bears and other large animals, rusted and round and riddled with sharp teeth that were currently buried in his leg. He was distressed to see that some of the teeth were long enough to go clean through one side of his leg and out the other, dripping in blood. He was pretty sure the force had broken the bone in some capacity.
Sitting up as much as he could, Jay did his best to keep it still, looking around and seeing a dozen similar traps littering the tunnel floor. Just his luck: he had managed to step into the very first one.
Maybe he could pry it off? Reaching down, Jay took the jaws in his hands and pulled as hard as he could. The shock of feeling the teeth slide out of his muscles made his skin crawl, and the sudden jolt of pain pain pain caused him to let go. Tears started blurring his vision as the jaws snapped shut around his leg again, and Jay hated how close he was crying. He had gone through so much worse than this, so why was he crying now?
Nya and Lloyd came around the corner along with the Munce, and Nya gasped when she saw the sight of her Yin’s bloody leg. “Oh First Master.”
“Yes, I know, it looks bad,” Jay said quickly, gritting his teeth together and trying to keep his leg from shaking, “but gawk later and free me now, please.”
She stepped forward and cupped his face, stroking his cheekbones and pressing a light kiss to his forehead; she must’ve seen how close he was to breaking down. “Hold on, okay? We’ll get you out of this.”
Two of the Munce stepped forward with grim expressions, one of them being Murt. “Traps set by the Skull Sorceror, meant to trap Munce so they can be taken to the mines,” he said bitterly, shaking his head as he knelt down next to the trap. “We must be getting close. I will help with this one.”
Before Jay could prepare himself, Murt and the other Munce had each grabbed one side of the trap and started pulling, and he screamed again as the teeth tore through muscle and ripped skin. Lloyd shoved something into his mouth; it felt like the handle of his sword. Jay quickly bit down, muffling the screams and giving him something else to focus on while he was freed. Nya stroked through his hair while Lloyd wrapped an arm around his waist, both of them talking even though Jay had no idea what they were saying.
Once his leg was freed, Murt threw the broken trap away farther down the tunnel, picking some pebbles and triggering the other traps with the help of the other Munce. Lloyd propped Jay up against the rock wall.
He wiped Jay’s brow with his sleeve. “There, is that a little better?”
“A little,” Jay said, mostly to try and reassure his little brother because it was absolutely not better. To his relief, Lloyd looked slightly happier, and Jay knew that it was worth whatever pain sitting up was currently causing him.
Leaning over his leg, Lloyd frowned, looking a little green in the face as he inspected Jay’s injury. “It, uh, it’s definitely not good.”
“Could you be a little more specific?” Nya snipped, but Jay knew that she was only worried. He reached up and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, giving her a small smile, and she looked slightly regretful. “Sorry, that was mean.”
“No, no, it’s okay,” Lloyd assured; he knew as well as Jay how Nya could get when she was under pressure. “He’s not walking on it, that’s for sure. I’m pretty sure it’s broken.”
“It is,” Jay confirmed. After all, he had heard the bone breaking when the trap triggered the first time, “so you guys are gonna have to carry me out of here.” Trying to not look at the pool of blood forming under his leg was very difficult when there was nothing else to look at. At least he still had his Yang’s gorgeous eyes to stare into instead.
Rolling his eyes at Jay’s goo-goo gaze, Lloyd scoffed. “Come on, we don’t have a moment to lose. Let’s get you up.”
He looped one of Jay’s arms around his shoulders while Nya took the other, and together they heaved him up. Jay cried out but quickly bit his lip after his injured leg was jostled, feeling the dizziness start to set in from the pain. Nya and Lloyd quickly lifted him up a little higher, both of them looking concerned as he opened his glassy eyes.
“You okay?” Lloyd asked anxiously, and Nya’s expression hardened as the blood from his leg started staining the soles of her boots. She grunted under his weight, and Jay was suddenly very self-conscious of how much he had eaten before they came underground. Hopefully it wasn’t too noticeable.
Pain consumed his leg once the two started moving, but Jay was determined to keep it to himself. “I’m fine, keep going,” he gritted out, teeth clenched as he brought his good leg up and used the other two Ninja as makeshift crutches.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t keep it up for very long. Soon he was telling Nya to set him back down against the wall, Lloyd carefully laying his leg out while Jay shut his eyes and took deep breaths, fighting against the overwhelming urge to vomit up everything in his stomach.
“We cannot stay here,” Murt said from the front of the group; the three Ninja had fallen to the back because of Jay, “especially when we are so close to our home.”
“He just needs a minute,” Nya said, and Jay was disappointed in the fact that he was definitely going to need more than a minute.
Frowning at the trail of blood left in their wake, Lloyd took another look at the injury. “We don’t have enough supplies to bandage it here, but we need to staunch the bleeding. You’re losing way too much blood.”
“Like a tourniquet?” Nya asked, letting Jay lean his head onto her shoulder. “I-I don’t know, Lloyd.”
“He won’t last if we don’t do it, Nya, unless we want to try cauterizing it-” and Jay was rapidly shaking his head despite his dizziness because no they were not doing that. Nya winced in sympathy, quickly patting his head.
Sighing, Lloyd took off the strap that held the holster for his weapon, reaffixing the holster to his belt and testing the strength of the strap. He carefully positioned a few inches above Jay’s wound, right above his knee, wrapping it around and around until it was tight enough. Nya squeezed Jay’s hand, and Jay was grateful for her silent support; they both knew the part that came after this wasn’t pretty.
“Three, two, one,” Lloyd counted down, and Jay screamed when his brother yanked the strap as tight as he could around his thigh. The pain was blinding, and it only grew worse as Lloyd shoved the handle of his sword into the knot and twisted. He knew how tourniquets were supposed to work, and he knew that Lloyd was only doing what he had to do, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. A few stray tears leaked out of his eyes that Nya was quick to wipe away, and Jay allowed himself to sob exactly one time before he clamped his mouth shut.
Jay was so out of it that he didn’t realize the other two were lifting him up until he was weighless, the pain still pulsating up his leg. “Hold on, Jay. We’re gonna get you some help,” Nya said, and Jay let his eyes close. He had the utmost faith in her and Lloyd to get him to safety.
And hopefully, safety wasn’t too far away, because there was only so long you could keep a tourniquet on before tragedy would strike.
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ineffablydelighted · 6 months
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[Re-Angelized Crowley ruling Heaven alongside Supreme Archangel Aziraphale #1 & #2]
You may have encountered this fanfic of mine on Facebook. Time to bring it here! This explores what it would have been if Crowley had accepted to follow Aziraphale in Heaven... Probably Metatron's very own version of Hell... right? 😈
[This is meant to be light and funny - well, at least am I attempting to be. I reserve my deep thoughts for my analysis and I'm just as against our favorite Angel's decision as the next person 😅]
That time the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale had a "big announcement" to make, Day 1
Aziraphale: On this day particularly important for me - I mean, for us all, I have the pleasure to introduce *weird Magishun tone* *already amused by his own pun* or, to re-introduce: Archangel Anthony Crowley!
Crowley: *arrives in all-black attire, already owns the place* Helloooo, suckerssss! Ooookayy, Time to change a thing or two: Beige is out, Black is in! *snaps his fingers because Crowley*
Aziraphale: aka... my husband.
Crowley: *stops in the middle of a twist* Wait, what? Since when?
Aziraphale: *with a both cute and firm smile* Since now. I've decided.
Crowley: *blushes behind his glasses* *shrugs his shoulders**tries to sound cool and detached* M'okay. Works for me.
The crowd: *Too stunned to react*
Aziraphale: A round of applause, please, that would be lovely.
The crowd: *weird applause*
Aziraphale: *innocent yet somewhat demonic smile* Thank you 🤭
When the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale asked the Meeting Room to be repainted in wood shades "because it will feel cozier"
Michael: *about to have a heart attack* *cannot deal with the Jealousy* You cannot be serious?
Uriel: Come on, Michael, it must be a joke... Right?
Metatron: *is waiting for Aziraphale to answer "Yes, of course"*
Crowley: *arrives in style* Have you told them about the yellow lights yet or have I arrived too soon?
Two Angels walk into the New Office That Somehow Looks Like an Old Bookshop to report the news on Armageddon 2.0 - which should have happened two centuries ago - and on how Attempt #451 mysteriously failed.
Crowley: *leans in Aziraphale's seat that looks like an old sofa* And why do they keep talking, exactly?
Aziraphale *holds himself back from rolling his eyes for two centuries* *sympathetic smile* I'm sure you've done your very best to make it work. Thank you.
In the middle of a very important War meeting
Crowley: *sighs* I need a drink, Angel *realizes* *does not care* Yeah, nope, cannot stop calling you that. *To Michael, Uriel, Saraqael, and Metatron* Deal with it, losers. *miracles a glass of Talisker and drinks it as if it were 6 expresso shots in one big mug*
Metatron: *Contemplates the end of his own existence as a valid option for the first time in his Eternity* *So done with their bullshirt since day 1*
Three Angels report on how Attempt #523 mysteriously failed.
Crowley: *straight-up laughing* You heard that, Angel? They didn't do what you asked them to do! *theatrical hand movements* How unusual! How revolutionary! *whispers* Can I hang them by their tiny little fee-T?
Aziraphale: *scandalized look* *high-pitched voice* Of course not!
Crowley: *sighs in childish* Ughhh, I need a drink.
When Archangel Michael makes an appearance
Crowley: Isn't it time we introduce quiet firing, Angel? Also, Micky, I need a towel! *winks at his husband*
That first time Supreme Archangel Aziraphale and Archangel Crowley were about to re-enter the Elevator together.
Aziraphale & Crowley: *dressed formally* *Aziraphale loves top hats and convinced Crowley they should both wear one with reversed colors* *arm in arm*
Metatron: *clears his throat* *severe tone because that is the only tone he knows* Where do you think you two are going?
Aziraphale and Crowley: *startle like children caught stealing After Eights way before eight*
Aziraphale: We... hum... We... *looks at Crowley* Weeee thought it would be... hum... good to... hum... go back to Earth to... observe humans and to... hum... to... do... groceries? *innocent smile*
Metatron: *cannot believe his ears* Groceries?
Crowley: You haven't got the faintest idea how many wars and plagues have started in a grocery store, do ya'? *is handsy around Aziraphale's hip for no reason*
Aziraphale: *giggles*
Crowley: Come on, Angel, time to start World War III by pissing off some Karens at the cashier. T'will take what, Supreme Archangel, to kickstart Second Coming, hum? Two days? *puts his arm around Aziraphale's shoulders* *strong grip*
Aziraphale: *looks at Crowley* Oh, hum, maybe a week. *looks at Metatron* Let's not be pretentious.
Crowley: *glasses slightly down revealing his eyes only to his hubby* You mean like Michael?
Aziraphale: *giggles again before tapping Crowley's hand away from his shoulder in order to concentrate* *pretends to be shocked* Don't say that!
Metatron: *trembling voice* But... You cannot go back to Earth!
Crowley: *has NOT removed his hand from Aziraphale's shoulders* Watch us. *walks like Rihanna because Crowley, straight to the elevator*
Later, after the elevator's doors are closed.
Aziraphale and Crowley: *sigh in unison*
Aziraphale: I thought he would erase our names in the Book of Life for a second.
Crowley: Yeahhh, well... The night is still young, Angel. But, for now, time to recharge at the Ritz.
Aziraphale: Remember your promise, right?
Crowley: *pretends to not remember* Hum? Wot?
Aziraphale: You promised you wouldn't drink too much alcohol so that we can go to the Opera after. I need us to see Madam Butterfly sober!
Crowley: And I still strongly disagree with that statement. If I find Laudanum, I'll take a hundred bottles: one for tonight, the other 99 to bear the sight of Killjoy in Chief* for yet another day.
[Oh, I think we all know who Killjoy in Chief is. Obviosleh.]
Crowley: If we ever go back Up.
Aziraphale: *scandalized in type A personality* Of course, we will come back! We have responsibilities!
Crowley: Says the Supreme Archangel *of course he always mentions his hubby's new title ironically* who ASKED for a week on Earth.
Aziraphale: Yes, well... There is no such thing as the concept of vacation in Heaven at the moment, but I will certainly introduce it in a century or two. This is important!
Crowley: Sure.
Aziraphale: *talks in Life Mission* It helps stay productive. And happy!
Crowley: Riiight.
Aziraphale: You know it's true! Stop mocking me!
Crowley: I'm not, I... *freezes*
Aziraphale: What is it? Are you okay? *handsy around Crowley's shoulder*
Crowley: My Bentley is going to be so pissed at me. My baby must be so depressed... *puppy-snake-like eyes*
Aziraphale: I know where this is going... And the answer is no, Crowley. *tries to muster some authority in his tone* *fails*
Crowley: Rahhhh! Come on, Angel! You plan on taking your diaries, your favorite books, and snacks! All I want is a dozen Talisker barrels, my plants, and my car back!
Aziraphale: These things will take too much space, Crowley! What will Metatron say?
Crowley: Tss. Says the Supreme Archangel who dreams of reproducing to perfection his very Earthy Bookshop in Heaven. And has started to do exactly that! You're no fun and you're a hypocrite! An Angel, for short. And a basic* one at that.
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[Insert The Good Place Michael who says "It's a human insult. You're devastated right now" gif here - Hey, we're on Tumblr, actually, I can!]
Aziraphale: *crosses his arms like a 5 yo while being 6000+* You too are an Angel, Crowley. You tend to forget about that.
Crowley: I'm not an Angel-Angel, Angel. Do you know why? Because I don't have a whole range of brooms stuck inside my bottom.
Aziraphale: *hurt* *also annoyed* *but mostly hurt* And here I was, thinking we would just spend an amazing week together. *trembling voice* You're the no-fun one, Crowley. *almost about to cry* *avoids eye contact*
Crowley: *notices* *pretends not to care* *holds himself back from thinking how cute Aziraphale's pouty face is* *fails miserably* *growls in defeat* How unfair is that?!
Aziraphale: *pretends not to hear for a second* *turns back to him* *keeps his pouty face steady* What? What is unfair?
Crowley: Nevermind, Angel. *sigh* Alright... I will limit my alcohol consumption to four, maybe five glasses.
Aziraphale: *cutest smile emerges* Thank you 🥰 *happy as in a Mariah Carey Christmas clip* *giggles*
Crowley: *blushes behind his glasses* *takes Aziraphales' arm back*
*Pretty long silence*
Crowley: Seriously, though, Sexy is gonna be so pissed at me.
Aziraphale: *high-pitched voice* OH MY LORD, for Heaven's sake, Crowley, the answer is no! Not another word!
Crowley: She might not want to take us to places, you don't understand how serious that is, Angel! What if she never forgives me? What if... *parent's biggest fear* What if she has been car-napped? Or worse? Ran away on her own? She could be anywhere by now!
Aziraphale: *tries to be reassuring* Well, if she isn't here when we arrive, we can miracle her back, it will be fine, Cro-
Crowley: And hurt her even more, treating her like... like... well, a car? I cannot talk to you when you are delusional like that! You're really pissing me off, *makes childish faces* SuPrEmE ArChAnGeL. *crosses his arms* *looks away*
*New silence*
Aziraphale: What if I allow you to drink as much as you like?
Crowley: *mumbles* Not enough.
Aziraphale: Come on, I need you to meet me halfway!
Crowley: *gritted teeth* Not. Enough.
Aziraphale: *sighs in angry mom* What do you want?!
Crowley: I told you what I wanted. You just don't listen.
Aziraphale: We cannot bring the Bentley to Heaven, Crowley! This is not happening!
Crowley: Then I'm not coming back either. Simple. *shrugs in blackmail*
Aziraphale: *shocked*
Crowley: For the record: when humans get married, Angel, they usually do not reject their spouses' child. You... You're behaving like a nasty mother-in-law right now and I'm not having it.
Aziraphale: Did you just Lady Tremaine-labelled me? For real?!
Crowley: Yep. You're that mean. I cannot believe how quickly your new job had gone to that top hat-ed head of yours.
Aziraphale: ...
Crowley: How career changes people, isn't it just baffling.
Aziraphale & Crowley: *cross their arms and look away at the same time*
*ANOTHER silence*
Aziraphale: *defeated sigh* *literally cannot be mad at his hubby for more than 3 minutes* One Talisker barrel, only the plants that stayed in the Bentley and... the Bentley. IF, and ONLY IF she consents to be... huh... reduced in size a little.
Crowley: *yells in bad faith* Here, have some fatphobia, now! I've seen it all! *points a reproachful finger at his spouse* You're a disappointment, Angel.
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Aziraphale: *starting to lose patience* Crowley...
Crowley: Two barrels.
Aziraphale: Do not push your luck, I swear...
Crowley: Have you not noticed I'm winning the argument by now, SuPrEmE aRcHaNgEl?
Aziraphale: This is. Not. About. Winning, Crowley! And it is so unfair you keep our Soirée hostage until you get what you want!
Crowley: I'm a demon, Angel. Demons tend to do that.
Aziraphale: Technically, you aren't anymore!
Crowley: We both know you never technically sent the form to make my re-Angelisation official, so I am technically AND in truth: *marks a pause* Still. A demon.
Aziraphale: Exactly! A nasty mother-in-law would never do such a thing!
Crowley: So?
Aziraphale: A raging bureaucrat either!
Crowley: So?
Aziraphale: And certainly NOT a basic Angel!
Crowley: *annoyed* SO?
Aziraphale: I need you to take that back! That was unfair and BEYOND mean, Crowley! *shaking lips*
Crowley: *growls* *rolls his eyes* FINE. *removes his glasses* Sorry, Angel. It was the worried parent speaking.
Aziraphale: *little smirk Crowley has never seen before* *so ready for his petty revenge* Not. Enough.
Crowley: *finds it super hot* *likes being imitated* *cannot concentrate anymore* You... hum... Okay, what do you want? *is wondering how he went from winning the argument to being a fair loser in a matter of a single no-so-angelic smirk*
Aziraphale: *ready to push his luck* How about... a little dance?
Crowley: Out of the question.
Aziraphale: Crowley...
Crowley: NO.
Aziraphale: Crowley...
Crowley: *feels his determination melt like ice at the heart of Hell* *gritted teeth* Fi-
Elevator: Earth. *neutral ding* *doors opens*
Aziraphale: *takes Crowley's hand in his* *looks at him with soft eyes*
Crowley: *cannot believe a SuPrEMe ArChAnGeL could ever make him swoon**longest sigh* Ughhhh. Let's get this over with.
Aziraphale: *recoils to enjoy the view better*
Crowley:
You were right,
You were right,
I was wrong,
You were righ-T. *sighs* Satisfactory enough, SuPrEmE aRcHaNgEl?
Aziraphale: Thank you, Cinderella. *leaves first in victory*
Crowley: *wants to murder and kiss him at the same time*
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