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nanaslutt · 7 months

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Okay but perv Geto is so fucking good and so fucking accurate what if he caught reader using the shower head on herself and decided he would do her one better 👀

perv geto<3 my luv

contains: fem reader, voyerism, perv!geto masturbation(r!&geto), so much dirty talk, sexual tension, praise, degradation, unprotected sex, shower sex, whipped!geto, softer ending, implied aftercare

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“Fuuuu-mmm” you slapped a hand over your mouth to conceal your wines as the strong stream of water from the shower head hit your clit perfectly— the perfect temperature, the perfect pressure.

You had started out standing but quickly decided to make yourself as comfortable as possible on the smooth tile of the shower floor when you realized how intense the stimulation was.

Your legs were spread while you bucked your hips against the stream or water. Your body was jerking and jolting at the sensation of the water caressing just right under the hood of your clit.

You held your breath as the warm water brought you closer and closer to your high, jaw dropping and eyebrows scrunching together as you were pushed off the edge.

“Haaaa-aaah fuck-“ you whined a little too loudly. You felt your walls clench around nothing as your orgasm washed through your body, the warm steady pressure of water was working you over so well, prolonging the intense feeling as you jerked and gasped into the small room of the bathroom.

shlick shlick shlick

“Fuuuuck… cmon go again, do it again..” Geto whispered under his breath from the other side of the door.

You knew you weren’t being relatively as quiet as you know you should’ve been; having a roomate in the house; but you figured the water would drown out most of your noises.

You could not have been more wrong.

For the past five or so minutes that you had been getting up to your antics in the shower, Geto’s ear was pressed against the door, warm hand wrapped around his fist and pumping steadily while listening to your wines and curses as you got yourself off.

He heard you and Shoko talking about this new method to masturbate over the phone the other day, he didn’t mean to ease drop but.. yes he did.

The second he walked by your room and heard you repeat back to shoko, “A shower head? down there? really?” He froze in his tracks, listening to the short conversation after your question that followed.

Ever since that day, whenever you got in the shower he would follow right behind you. The moment he heard the shower come to life, his head was pressed against the thick wood door, listening for any telling signs that you were trying out this new trick you had learned.

And he is so glad he didn’t give up, night after night he spent standing at that door, shuffling his body weight between both of his feet as he waited so patiently to hear something, anything that sounded like you touching yourself, and he finally did.

He wanted to feel guilty he really did, but the vivid image he had painted of you, standing with the shower head you body used, against your clit, moaning and whining as you made yourself cum with it.. the guilt in his body was nowhere to be found.

You panted hard on the floor, squeezing your legs shut in comfort when your orgasm subsided, “holy shit,” you breathlessly whispered, amazed at how good that had felt.

You pulled your lip between your teeth, thinking. The water was still warm, so you couldn’t have been in there for too long.. a second round wouldn’t hurt.. right?

You spread your legs once more, wincing when you brought the shower head back to your clit, face scrunching as you tried to overcome the overstimulation you felt as trying to go again so soon.

You managed to push through it—though you realized you felt ten times more sensitive than before, it was proving to be harder to hold back your noises as you alternated between letting the water spray against your tight hole, and your sensitive little bud.

“Yesyesyes” Geto smiled triumphantly when he heard your noises start up again on the other side of the door after a brief pause. He started up his own hand again, stroking himself faster at the sound of your needier wines this time around.

He was picturing himself standing behind you, his cock fucking in and out of your tight hole while he held the shower head against your clit. He imagined you would protest at how it was too much, too good, to please give you a break— and of course he wouldn’t.

He would fuck into you harder, faster, he would manipulate the shower head in a way so the water was caressing your clit in circles, he pictured you curling in on yourself while you came all over him, he tried desperately to squeeze his hand in a pulsing motion to mimic what he thought your pussy would feel like when your high arrived.

He slowed down his strokes when an idea popped into his head. You could practically see a lightbulb form over him as he completely paused the strokes on his angry dick, quickly pushing his cock back into his pants and zipping them back up.

It was not unusual for the two of you to use the bathroom while the other was in the shower. The sliding shower door was one of those cloudy ones, so you could see nothing but the persons silhouette as they used the shower. The bathroom also had no lock, which Geto thought was absolutely perfect.

He rapped a quick knock onto the wood, “Coming in, gotta brush my teeth” he said as nonchalantly as he could, giving you a could seconds before he cracked the door open.

You were shocked out of your daze, slapping your legs together as the door opened, you prayed he would get his toothbrush and leave, like he usually did, but he had other plan.

“Oh- o-ok-“ You stuttered out when you saw his frame come through the door. You held your breath as you tried to ignore the throbbing between your legs, crying for you to continue the simulation before he interrupted you.

You watched his blurry frame grab his toothbrush, squeezing on the toothpaste and that’s when you froze. You watched as his head turned towards the shower, holding your breath before his deep voice spoke through the room.

“Why are you on the ground?” he questioned, making you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that if you tried hard enough, you might disappear. “Didn’t hear you fall, you okay?” he asked, knowing damn well you weren’t on the floor because you fell.

He wasn’t expecting to see you like this, but he couldn’t deny that the thought of you having to sit down from how weak your legs were from just putting a shower head to your clit was making him dizzy.

“I-i’m okay,” you answered, praying that would be the end of his interrogation— it wasn’t.

“Didn’t answer my question.” He repeated, a smirk you couldn’t see, spreading itself across his handsome face, “Why are you on the ground if you didn’t fall?” He spoke.

You stayed silent, looking around the four walls of the small shower box you were in, trying and failing to come up with some excuse, instead feeling your mouth flap open and closed like a fish while little ‘uhh’ and ‘umms’ fell from your lips.

You watched his figure sit down on the closed toilet seat. The silence in the room was making your heart race, had he heard you moaning?

“Where’s the shower head?” he asked. You pulled your lip into your mouth and closed your eyes, forgetting that you can see the shower head peak out from the top of the shower door.

“What are you doing?” you asked quietly, at this point, you knew he knew— and you knew he was teasing you about it.

“Just wanna know where my shower head went, I spent a lot of money for that attachment you know~” He cooed, making you sigh.

“I..” you started, opening your eyes and peeking at his blurry frame through your peripheral vision, “I have it.” You finished.

“Where?” he quickly responded, smile still plastered on his face, his hand coming down slowly to subtly rub himself over his pants, using the obstruction of the blurry shower door to conceal his antics.

“Down here, with me.” You answered. “What’s it doing down there? hmm?” His deep voice resonated.

You started to feel yourself grow hot, and it wasn’t because of the temperature of the water. “I needed it.” you answered vaguely, feeling yourself throb between your legs at this interaction.

“You needed it?” he repeated, rubbing himself harder over his pants, letting out a short laugh when all you responded with was a short ‘mhm’

He watched your form move behind the glass, guessing your legs had spread open again, watching your arm move to place the shower head back between your legs.

He heard your breath hitch quietly when the water made contact with your little bud once more, “Needed it bad, huh?” he spoke again.

You tipped your head back against the shower wall, ignoring the blaring signals of what the hell are you doing this is your roomate, going off in your head. Instead you opted to move the shower head in circles, letting the water caress your pussy in the way you needed.

“Who taught you that huh?” he asked, knowing full well who the culprit was, and internally thanking her. “A-a friend.” you responded, your breath picking up as you spoke.

“Yeah? Did your friend also say it was okay to use my shower head to play with your pussy?” he asked. His vulgar and more direct words made you whimper, your cunt clenching around nothing as he continued.

“Y-you like it,” you responded, rolling your hips up into the stream of water.

This caught him off gaurd.

“Don’t t-think I haven’t noticed you outside the door whenever I s-shower ngh-“ you whine, wanting your voice to sound more like you were scolding him, but your words came out rushed and needy instead.

“You wanted m-e to do this,” you finished with a whine when the stream hit your clit a little too intensely.

“Fuck,” he laughed, reaching his hand into his pants once more to pull out his cock and stroke himself properly, “Why didn’t you say anything huh?” he asked.

“Didnt w-wanna ruin your fantasy, p-pervert.” you responded, the name making his cock twitch. “Oh I’m the pervert?” he responded, “Who was the one letting me listen to her shower? the one using my shower head to make herself cum?”

“L-listen to yourself, your just a nasty v-voyeur,” you wined, moans freely falling from your lips now at how worked up this conversation was getting you.

He felt his balls clench at your degrading words, cock still in his hand as he stood to his feet, sliding the slower door open in one swift movement and entering the shower, soaking his clothes as he dropped to his knees, gripping your chin in his free hand as he pressed your lips to his.

“Mmm! Mph-“ You whined into his mouth, feeling his arm rapidly move back and forth between you, his heavy breathing giving away his antics.

You kept the shower head on your clit as the two of you made out. He kissed you like he had been wanting to do this for years, bulling his tongue into your mouth and groaning into your cavern, the two of you swallowing each others noises.

“Sugu- Suguru, fuck-“ you moaned his name needing in between kisses, feeling yourself get pushed to the edge for the second time.

He sucked your lip into his mouth before pulling away and gripping your wrist that was controlling the shower head. “Let me fuck you,” he begged against your lips, “Let me fuck you please.” You were astonished at how quickly he was switching gears. He was so dominant just seconds ago and now he was on his knees in front of you, begging you to let him put his dick inside you.

“I’ll make you cum so much harder than this fucking thing please, let me prove it,” he rushed, his hand still jerking quickly over his cock as he sucked his lip into his mouth.

“Okay, okay ye-“ you answer, soul leaving your body when he wrapped his arms around you, yanking the both of you to your feet, he pulled you up by the underside of your thighs wrapping your legs around his waist as he pinned you against the shower wall.

You were getting whiplash as how quickly this was progressing, you gasped in anticipation as his hand grabbed ahold of his cock underneath you, you gasped when you felt it rub against your entrance.

“You can’t take it, Look at me, you can take it.” He spoke, pressing his his forehead to yours and making you keep eyes contact with him, distracting you from the sheer size of his cock that looked like it threatened to split you in half.

The two of you stared at each other with bated breathe, waiting for geto to slip his cock into your hole. The two of you gasped in tandem when he slid inside, the slide eased by the water.

“Oh fuck,” The dark haired man rolled his eyes back in his head, “So fucking tight oh my-“ He cut himself off when he bottomed out, gasping against your mouth as you wined at the stretch.

You’ve never taken anything inside you even remotely close to the girth and length of Geto’s massive cock. You were glad you came once before and your walls were more pliant, otherwise you would’ve been actually worried that he might’ve split you in two.

“Holy fuck you’re so big-“ you praised, looking down between the two of you and seeing your cunt fully pressed against his abdomen. “S-should’ve stopped being a fucking pervert and g-grew the balls to come in here and f-fuck me week ago,” you giggled.

Geto had no idea why when you spoke down to him it made his cock twitch, his balls would clench and threaten to spill his seed without even moving. Even before he got inside you when he heard the name leave your lips he had to squeeze the base of his cock to prevent himself from cumming prematurely.

“I know, you’re right,” he agreed, before he started a rough pace with his hips, fucking meanly into your cunt.

You bounced forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your nails into his back as high pitch “ah! ah! ah’s” we’re fucked out of your lungs.

“This perv fucking you better than that shower head?” he asked, smiling into the crook of your neck as his cocky pistoned in and out of your hole, his fat tip fucking straight into your gspot.

“D-ont kno-w” your words came out choppy and high pitched thanks to his rough thrusts. “You don’t know?” He repeated, his lip jutting out in a frown as he bounced your body up and down his cock with ease. “Let’s find out then,” he added.

He gripped the sides of your body, pulling you up off his cock with ease and flipping your body around, so you were back to chest with him, just like in his fantasy.

He slipped his cock back inside you, making you whine, your legs shaking and trembling under your own weight, small hands reaching out to grip onto the shower door handle to keep yourself steady.

Geto reached over and grabbed the shower head, picking it up off the ground from the tube part and pulling it up into his hands, he quickly checked the pressure and temperature against his fingers before he wrapped one large arm against your tummy, pulling you back against his chest.

He maneuvered his other hand in front of you, teasing the spray of the water against your pelvis before he spoke, “Don’t pass out on me.”

Geto placed the stream of water against your clit before resuming his brutal pace inside your pussy once more. If it wasn’t for his strong grip against your stomach, you were sure your legs would’ve given out on you.

“Fffuuuuuck-“ You wined, eyes rolling back in your head at the intense pleasure. “Fuck- You’re so much tighter when your little clit gets some attention-“ he choked, gritting his teeth at the feeling of your pussy walls constricting around his cock.

He tipped his head back, jaw dropping as he tried not to lose his own balance, he understood now why you ended up on the floor.

“Not gonna last with your squeezing me this fucking tight.” he warned, his lips coming down to suckle against your neck as the both of you were spiraling closer and closer to your impending orgasms.

“Fuck it’s you- you shi-t,” you tried to tell him, making him grin against your neck, “You fuck me better ha-aaah!” you wined, your arms leaving the shower door to dig your nails into his arm that was wrapped around your torso.

“Yeah? Am I making you feel good?” He bated, needing to hear you praise him. “So ahhn! So good Sugu! So fucking good, love your cock-“ you got cut off by the first wave of your orgasm, catching you off gaurd suddenly.

“Yeahhh cum all over my fucking cock- good fucking girl-“ your roomate praised, his thrusts becoming sloppy as your walls fought to milk him for all he was worth,

“Gonna make me cum,” he warned, gritting his teeth and rolling his eyes back when you dug your nails into his arms harder than before.

Unbeknownst to him, he was fucking you straight into overstimulation, you had just come in inch from your life and the stream of water was still steadily massaging your clit, and his mushroom tip was absolutely abusing your gspot.

“Su-“ you tried to speak, to tell him to at least move the shower head but he was out of it himself. The man was fucking you with reckless abandon, humping his dick into your tight walls on instinct, moans freely falling from his lips, his heavy balls making loud vulgar slaps against your ass-

He pulled out just before he came, making him drop the shower head and simultaneously releasing his hold on you, making you drop to your knees.

You looked up at him just in time when he came, his large hand caressed your face while his other stroked him through his orgasm, abs and balls clenching alike while warm spurts of cum covered your pretty face.

“Thank you- Thank you-“ He choked out between the waves of his orgasm, his head was tilted back, jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut at the intensity, you and never seen a more beautiful sight.

His legs were visibly shaking, fighting to keep himself standing as his fist squeezed out the remaining drops of his cum onto your face.

When he started to come down his next dropped to look at you, gasping, trying to catch his breath as he looked at the art he created on your beautiful face.

When the fuzziness started to fade out of his head he realized how uncomfortable he was, his slacks and button up shirt was half drenched, sticking to his skin uncomfortably from the water. His big hand came up to rub the back of his neck as he squatted in front of you, before bringing both hands down to your face using his large thumbs to rub his cum into your cheeks.

“I-“ He stopped himself, clearing his throat before leaving a soft peck on your lips, “Legs get you cleaned up,” he smiled, scooping you up and letting you wrap your limbs around him like a koala as he carried your wet bodies out of the shower.

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luxthestrange · 1 year

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RoR Incorrect quotes#162 Monsterfucker

When Nikola Tesla Released You...a top monster-fucker at Beelzebub

Beel*Throwing pillows at you and about to spray holy water but the spray bottle are empty*THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!

MF!Y/n*Looking at him running away*Does it Beelz?~

Beel*Throwing at you things you hyper fixate over*THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!!

MF!Y/n: The "Power of christ"compelling me?~is that what's happening?~*Walking faster towards him, with lustful gaze*

Beel*Already calling for help with a trembling hand*THE POWER OF CRIST COMPELS YOU!?!

MF!Y/n*Grabbing his phone with a grin and dark chuckle*Guess what?~....It's not that compelling!~

Beel:.....AAAH!?*Is being dragged by his foot off to his room by the human*

Nikola:...Poor bastard

-SEVERAL HOURS LATER-

Y/n*Coming out the room looking refreshed smilling*If you like piña coladas~

Luci*Sneaked in Beelzebub...destroyed room, Look at Beelzebub trembling in his bed, wrapped in a burrito with water and snacks around him*Beel!-You okay?!

Beel*After you were done with him...you bathed him put him on the softest blanket and gave him water and snacks*....I-I don't think I can go back to d-demons-

What TRULY scares a demon...a top monster-fucker...

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror #snv #record of ragnarok x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #ror beelzebub x reader #snv beelzebub x reader #ror nikola tesla #snv nikola tesla #ror smut #snv smut #ror incorrect quotes #snv incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #ror lucifer #snv lucifer

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harveywritings92 · 11 months

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[For context Price and Gaz are on vacation: Ghost is in charge, and series of unfortunate events leads R/n into believing Ghost is somehow possessed by a demon. She asks Roach to find her a priest, cut to later at the base’s lounge. R/n sees what she thinks is smoke coming from outside she opens the lounge door to find Soap standing there in full Priest garb, Roach is next to him in a black hoodie holding a fog machine with the exorcist theme playing on his phone.]

Soap: Good evening. I believe ya require my services.

[gives R/n his card]

R/n, reading his card: "John MacTavish, Swimwear Model"?

(R/n gives him a strange a look.)

Soap: No, turn it over.

R/n, turns the card over and reads: "John MacTavish, Exorcist"?

Soap, to Roach: That’s enough Garry.

(Roach pauses the music)

R/n: Roach, I thought you were going to find me a proper exorcist.

Soap: No need, sinner. Seen the movie, [unzips the front of his costume] got the t-shirt. Now if ya kindly moves aside I’ll locate all the pockets of malice and vibrations of doom...

[R/n reluctantly leads them to the library where Ghost is napping and talking in his sleep.]

Soap: What putrefaction is this? Garry, holy water. (Roach hands him a spray bottle) Music. (plays The exorcist theme) Be thou not afraid! (he sprays Ghost)

[[Ghost stirs awake and starts raving out gibberish at Soap who sprays him more.]]

Soap: Ack! it speaks in tongue!

Ghost, looking around wildly: What’s goin on???!!

R/n: it’s an exorcist!

Ghost: Damn You! {tackles Soap to floor and starts throttling him.} Damn you Johnny! (Gets Soap in a head lock) Ya stupid bloody idiot!

{Ghost manages to take the spray bottle from Soap and starts spraying him in the face with it.}

Soap: It said damn! now Garry! the stake!

[ Ghost looks behind him and is threatened by Roach with a hammer and wooden stake.]

Ghost: MY GOD!

[Roach freezes surprised that Ghost said God]

Ghost: This base has gone insane!?

R/n: That's what I've been trying to tell you.

Ghost, to R/n: You, you're unhinged.

Ghost, to Roach: You, you're demented.

Ghost, to Soap: and You, you're just you.

Soap, to Ghost in panic: Careful! Holy water's expensive! It's mixed with the urine of seven virgins.

[Ghost looks at the bottle than at Soap in disgust.]

Roach, pulling his hood off: Dude, It's just tap water.

Soap, glaring at Roach: I asked you to do one thing!

[R/n, Roach and Soap start to bicker as Ghost throws the bottle away and goes to call Price to see how long he and Gaz are going to be on holiday for? because he fears he’s not gonna last long...]

#S: my family (tv series)#i was laughing writing this out #call of duty modern warfare incorrect quotes #Clerk! reader #corporal! reader #afab reader #platonic! task force 141 #call of duty x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #john soap mactavish #garry roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #garry roach sanderson x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john price #gaz x price

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 25 days

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Sorry if you’re tired of getting asks about the Want Fic, but I just pictured Patrick and his daughter bonding over tennis, when she’s working five she picks up his racket and starts hitting one of the tennis balls around their backyard and he’s impressed how hard she ends up hitting one hard enough that it almost breaks one of the windows, he chuckles a little before telling her to be careful, I can see her being a prodigy herself when she’s older and Patrick is very proud and ends up being like Venus and Serena’s dad and coaches her.

Not at all. I love that it’s getting attention!

Patrick and Y/N’s daughter grew up around Tennis. With Y/N watching him play in person and on TV it was bound to happen that she’d take interest. It would be when Patrick was practicing in the backyard and Y/N was at work. He’d give them snacks and toys to keep them pre occupied but the oldest one took interest in something else: His Racket. He had set in down for a drink of water and his 5 year old came over and took the racket. “Can I hit one dad?” She asked him. He looked down in shock but smiled. “Yeah sure.” He handed her a ball, “So when you wanna hold the racket-“ “I got it dad.” She said and he smiled. “Go on then.” He said softly. One minute the ball is in the air and the next it almost breaks a window. “Holy shit.” He whispers looking down at his daughter. She looks up at him, “Sorry.” “No No, that was awesome.” He tells her. She smiles, “Just be careful next time or your mother will kill us both.” He tells her, jokingly.

Y/N began cleaning up around the house while Patrick did the dishes. Their eldest daughter was at school and their youngest was at pre school. Y/N grabbed the window cleaner to clean the windows. Once she got to the window that was almost broken by the ball, she noticed a little crack in it. She thought it was a smudge so she sprayed it and wiped it but it was still there. “Babe?” She called out. Patrick walked over to her, “What’s up baby?” She looked at him. “Why’s the window cracked?” She asked him. He looked at her with fake confusion. She motioned towards the window. He looked at it and saw the little crack that their daughter made yesterday. “Huh? I’m not sure. Maybe a bird flew into it.” He lied. She looked at him like she knew that he was lying. “A bird? Really?” He shook his head. “I don’t know why it’s cracked.” “Patrick.” She growled. “Okay it was Y/O/D/N. She hit her first ball and it almost broke the window.” She got down from the ladder and smiled. “She hit the ball with a racket?” She asked, excitedly and he nodded. She hugged him, “Oh my gosh this is amazing. I have to tell Tashi.” She ran to the phone to call her friend.

If you want me to go in to when she’s older and Patrick coaching her I will!

#challengers movie #challengers 2024 #mike faist #zendaya #josh o'connor #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig imagine #patrick zweig x you #art donaldson #tashi duncan #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year

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Promot 18 and 9 for johnny storm please

.⋆｡On Fire｡⋆.

Johnny Storm x plus size reader

Johnny is ok at being a hero, he’s good at extreme sports and he’s a god at sex, but feelings- he can’t do those

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, FWB to lovers, angst, shower sex, Johnny’s a bit of an asshole, I accidentally wrote Johnny as an American Jamie Tartt and I can’t find myself getting mad at it, fluff

WC: 1.2k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

3000 Follower Celebration

“Holy fuck this pussy is goddamn magical.” Johnny groaned into your shoulder, his teeth sinking into your delicate skin. Cold water rolled down your body, the hot water having long been used up. His thick cock buried to the hilt inside you, his hands firmly planted on your wide hips as he drove into you.

“Johnny I love you.” You moaned. Your back arched as yet another orgasm began to build in your stomach. You reached back for him but only succeeded in skimming his abs with the tips of your fingers. He retaliated by punching into your cunt even harder, forcing your naked chest into the chilled shower tiles and away from him.

“Jesus, loosen up, you’re squeezing me so tight.” He groaned through gritted teeth. Heat began to grow behind you and Johnny’s cock somehow got even hotter inside of you. His right hand released your hip and captured your clit between his fingers, strumming you desperately to your end. “Fuck!”

Heat exploded deep within you and drove you over the edge. “God baby.” You moaned and slumped forward, letting your body relax underneath the cool spray of water.

“Damn baby, that was a good one.” Johnny slapped your plump ass in a friendly manor and pulled out of you.

You winced at the feel of his release escaping you as you stood up straight, letting the water wash your previous activities away. “Yeah it was.” You dismissed. Johnny raised a brow at you as you walked past him, grabbing one of his very expensive white towels on the way out.

“Where are you off to? Got some hot date?” He teased, trailing behind you. You didn’t even glance at him while you grabbed your clothes.

“No but you do. Diamond has been dying to finally get under you.” You sneered her name as you pulled on your panties. He scoffed.

“So what, it’s not like I’m actually dating you.” You froze, your stomach dropping.

“Yeah, I know.” You slipped on your sweater and grabbed the rest of your things. “Goodbye Johnny.” And this time, your goodbye actually sounded real.

——————

Johnny stared at his phone like it had offended him. “What’s up your ass today?” Ben planted himself in his reinforced chair across from the younger man, coffee cup in hand. Johnny just glared at him.

“Y/N’s been ignoring him for a week now.” Sue sat next to her little brother, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“What did you do?” A murderous gaze levelled at him.

“I didn’t do anything!” Johnny retorted with a whine. A notification lit up his phone and he immediately abandoned the conversation in favour of grabbing his phone. He let out a sigh of disappointment, it was just a message from yet another one night stand.

Even without eyebrows, Ben’s brow raised. Johnny crumpled. “I didn’t do anything.” He muttered almost shamefully. “She just left my place the other day and hasn’t called me back even though I’ve texted her like 20 times! That’s 19 more times than I usually do!”

Richard suddenly appeared behind his wife. “And we ask again, what did you ‘not’ do?”

Johnny sighed heavily and slumped over the table. He propped his chin up on the counter, staring off into nothing. “I thought she didn’t mean it, I mean I was in the middle of blowing her back out!” The others winced but he continued. “She said she loved me.”

“And did you say it back?” Sue asked. The silence was all the answers they needed.

“And you’re still seeing other people?” Again there was silence but he nodded.

“And is she?” He shook his head.

“You’re a fucking idiot and you most definitely do not deserve a good woman like that.” Ben slammed his palm on the table, shaking the ground with the force. “Absolute piece of shit, can’t believe how stupid he is.” Ben muttered as he walked away.

Sue and Richard watched him go before turning back to the youngest member of the group. “Johnny, you know what she’s ignoring you. You broke her heart and I think it’s now breaking yours.” She squeezed her brother’s shoulder. “And I agree with Ben, you kind of deserve it.”

“But, maybe you can fix this.” Richard spoke up. “It’s never too late if you really do love her.”

Johnny glanced at his brother-in-law sceptically. “But I don’t love her. I mean I guess I like having her around. She’s incredible in bed and she makes these pancakes that are out of this world. And when she sleeps next to me, I sleep better than I ever have. And when she smiles at me, I get this weird feeling in my stomach. And sometimes when I’m out shopping I look at rings. But that means nothing!” He paused and looked at Sue. “Right?”

She just looked at him, her eyes softening. “Right?”

Sue laid a kiss to the side of his head. “I think you know the answer to that already.”

——————

The bottle of red was halfway gone when the knock on your door came. You groaned and forced yourself up from your extremely comfortable couch, stumbling only once as you made your way to the door.

“What are you doing here?” The one and only Johnny Storm stood on your doorstep looking like a lost puppy.

He looked at you with those huge blue eyes that had made you fall into his bed more times than you could count. “I was an asshole.”

“Yes you were.”

“And I shouldn’t have ignored your feelings like that.”

“Correct.”

“And I shouldn’t have let you walk out that door because you are by far the best thing that has ever happened to me. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry and that I- shit c’mon. I looo- I can’t say it but you know what I mean.” You raised an eyebrow at him causing Johnny to sigh.

“Ok well I can’t say that but I do feel it. You’re absolutely amazing and a complete bombshell. And when I’m around you, I can be myself, not Johnny Storm, not the Human Torch, just me. You have been by my side through so much, even before we started sleeping together, which was a great decision by the way cause we are fucking awesome at sex.” You couldn’t help but smile and agree with the sentiment. “You’re my person, you are my home, you always have been. So yeah, there’s that.”

He shrugged almost sadly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “This doesn’t fix everything, you know that right?” His shoulder’s fell along with his expression.

“But what you said does mean a lot to me, so you can come in if you want to but you stay at least five feet away from me at all times. You have a lot of grovelling to do before you’re allowed back in.” You emphasised. Johnny perked up and bounced up the steps, giving you a peck on the cheek as he passed. You allowed the affection and slipped in behind him, a little smile on your face.

Johnny was buried between your thighs barely 15 minutes later.

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hykar · 1 month

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💫🌷Im into you Pt 2•°

Synopsis: Sucheon Kang is your admirer, the way he shows you affection however is in such an odd way... A grumpy(?) Kind of way. At first you thought he was just trying to be more nicer to people not until you noticed that he's only acting this way to you.

You as: Anon [Anonymous]

°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°

You and Subin sat down on a wooden platform under a huge tree, sheltering in its shade from the blazing sun, the breeze brought by the lake facing the courtyard outside the campus cooling your bodies down. It's campus clean up day and all of the students are assigned to clean their classrooms and certain places within the school grounds, staff and teachers are included in this activity.

"They should've scheduled the courtyard clean up early in the morning or in the afternoon where the sun isn't cooking us assigned to this task alive." Subin muttered, wiping off her sweat with your towel. You checked todays weather temperature on your phone, 33° Celsius.

"...We're already done with this part at least." You sighed, knowing that the two of you might've passed out from the heat if it took the two of you any longer. "Just the hallway left."

"You got water with you?" Subin asked, "Forgot to take it down with us, its in the classroom." "Fuck.." Subin reached for her pocket "Fuck, I left my card in my bag..." The two of you sat in silence for a moment. "Jisuk?" "Jisuk." Subin stood up and looked for him.

No thoughts, head empty, and staring at the grass. Thats how you looked like as you sat in silence. A cold and moist material jolted you awake when it pressed against your skin. You looked towards the direction of where it came from and faced Sucheon, holding two ice cups of 2 different drinks of some sort.

"Did I scare you?" "Just got surprised thats all." "Ahh okay... Got you something by the way." He handed you the ice cup he pressed against your skin earlier as he sat down beside you. You took the cup with a small smile on your face, "What drink is this?" You asked, looking at the light green liquid. "Green grape ade, thought you might like it.", you smiled again "Thanks."—The two of you sat there in silence, just drinking refreshments.

"We found a big dead ass rat right under the pot, I nearly vomi- HOLY SHIT GO BACK-" "OW WHAT THE FUCK SU-" "SHHH"

Subin pushed Jisuk behind a wall and hid behind it too, peeking at you and Sucheon sitting beside each other.

"You see this shit?" "No, your head full of air is too bi- HOLYYYY-" "SHHH".

(This is the best one I can find Im sorry TT)

"Oh the storage rooms?" You said, finishing your drink. "Yeah—got assigned with Jisuk and he's making things more difficult, no offense." You chuckled. "Is cleaning the courtyard easier?" "Pretty much, the heat is what makes it difficult." "Ahh..." Sucheon noticed a spray bottle in the cleaning bucket given to you and Subin, he grabbed it and sprayed a bit on you. "What was that for?!" "To cool you down, you said its hot." He said, trying not to smile. You blinked at him. He sprayed again. "Sucheon." He sprayed again, grinning. "Sucheon." He kept spraying then started chasing you around with the spray bottle.

"Stop it!" You squealed, running away from him. "What? I'm just helping you cool down!" He laughed as he ran after you and spraying whenever he gets close.

You saw a hose on the ground and picked it up, Sucheon stopped in his tracks. "[Name]... Please don't-" "What? You don't want me to help you cool down in such a hot weather?" You opened the faucet and chased Sucheon with the hose spraying water. "[NAME]!" He exclaimed, picking up an empty bucket to shield himself then started running away from you as you chased him around laughing.

Subin snapped a picture of the two—Her and Jisuk giggling and feeling on top of the world. "We're gonna have loads of fun with this shit!" "I'll miss teasing Iseul though." They laughed.

[KDRAMA: Our Beloved Summer]

°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°

Sucheon was walking down the hall, carrying a bucket of dirty water. Subin and Jisuk were walking in the opposite direction as him in same hall, upon seeing Sucheon—the two started snickering.

Jisuk started jogging in a real slow pace while Subin acted as if she was running after him. "Im gonna spray alcohol on you Jisuk!" "Ahh! Subin please no!" Then they started laughing. Sucheon frowned, he knew what they're trying to imply or do, or both. "Oh look Subin a hose! Better start running!" "Jisuk no! Ahh!" The two were laughing and all not until they screamed and ran off, partially laughing when Sucheon turned to them and was about to pour the dirty water onto them.

°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°

"I don't think he understood..."

°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°

You were expecting a notification from Sucheon to arrive sooner or later that says "Outside." When he leaves the stuff he got for you outside your door, a knock isn't what you expected. Nevertheless, you got up and opened the door. He was there. "That's new." "Were you shala?" "...That's not how you use the slang-" "Oh...".

From that day, he would knock on your door instead of sending a message to tell you that he left what he got you in front of your door. He doesn't stay, just hands it to you then smiles—a very tiny one. Then leaves, but the two of you would talk on the phone shortly after.

This day however it was different...

He's sat down with you on the floor of your living room, eating the tteokboki he brought with him for the two of you. "Do you think it needs a bit of spice?" He asked, looking at the tteokboki like something is missing. "I think its good." "Thats good to hear." He smiled—a really soft one, your lips wanting to curve into a smile too seeing it. "Why, did you make it?" You asked—your lips finally curving into a smile, finding the thought of it cute and sweet. Sucheon remained silent for a moment, his ears burning a light shade of red. "So you did make it." "Shut up and eat." "Thats cute." He looked away, his ears getting redder.

A question suddenly dawned into you as you looked at him. "Should I ask or should I not?" You pondered. "Nah Im just jumping to conclusions and assumptions... But what if..."

—To be continued....

#kang sucheon #sucheon kang #sucheon x reader #yoo jisuk #lee subin #eleceed #alternate universe #fanfic #fluff

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wanderingxiao · 1 year

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Thirst post! Just spent 4 hours cleaning and waxing my car and literally just thought about this weird but… interesting idea.

High School Scaramouche and Reader and having a free car wash supported by students! I now present you all… (FYI EVERYONE IS 18!)

Suggestive themes, 18+ only plz~ 💜

✨Scaramouche’s Car Wash Adventure✨

‘FREE CAR WASH TO SUPPORT TEYVAT HIGH! SPONSORED BY THE TEYVAT HIGH FOOTBALL AND CHEER TEAM!!!’

A scowl plastered across the teens face as he glanced over at all of the shirtless high school jocks washing cars while spraying each other. Beside them were girls wearing skin tight cropped tops and booty shorts while pressing their chests against other teenage boy cars. What a pathetic sight. He immediately turned his car into the small parking lot, his face turning red in embarrassment. He didn’t want to be seen in such a place, but he was shamefully there for one goal. The reason for stopping appeared in front of him clad In a tank top and some cute shorts. His dark lavender eyes widened In surprise seeing you in such an outfit. He could feel his cheeks becoming hotter when he saw you coming over to his car. He looked around quickly, hiding his vape and any nicotine cartridges from your observant gaze. A light knock came to his window, causing his usually cold heart to race in his chest. He rolled the window down anxiously.

“Hello and wel- oh! Scaramouche! Hey it’s good to see you!” Your fake voice was replaced by a genuine and excited tone as you let the eye of the lonely teen. How could someone so as bright and radiant as you be so nice to someone as cold and brass as him? “Tsk! I came to get my car washed, not to stand around and chat with someone from student council.” The redness of his ears betrayed him, luckily most of his Indigo hair covered them. You only gave him a smile. “Perfect! I’ll get the girls to come over and give you a nice wash.” A small wink was thrown at him from you, suggesting that he was really going to enjoy them coming over to wash his car. He visibly cringed at the thought and called out for you shyly. “Can… Can you wash my car? I don’t trust those airheads to do as much as stand near my car…”

“Hmm?” You blinked at him, a bit surprised at his sudden request. A knowing grin came to your face once you saw him averting his gaze. “Sure, Scara. Give me one second to go grab the scrub.” You trotted away happily, swaying your hips a little more than normal to emphasize your ass for his gaze. It worked too. His eyes instantly were glued to your rear, watching with a hesitant bit to his soft bottom lip. You returned minutes later carrying a bucket with soap and water and in the other some sponges and rags. Huh? Wait a minute. Scaramouche leaned forward in his seat, squinting his eyes to make sure he was seeing thing correctly. Two little beans poked out from your shirt as you sauntered on back to his car. Those two little beads came from your chest. Oh fuck you weren’t wearing a bra anymore. “Holy fuck…”

“I’m back! Now roll up your window and let me give your car a good washing yeah?” Your tone dropped at the end, adding seduction to your tongue, relishing in the way he shifted in his seat and couldn’t keep his eyes off your chest. God was that black tank top thin on you. “J-Just hurry up and clean my car!” He looked away quickly, rolling up his window with a scoff before he shyly looked back over. You smirked knowing he was watching and started to spray down his car, ‘accidentally’ spraying yourself to make your nipples a bit harder due to the coldness of the water. God was Scaramouche enjoying the show. He wanted to pull his phone up and snap a picture so bad, all so he could take it home and jerk off till his balls were empty. “F-Fuck… you’re… teasing me on purpose.”

You couldn’t hear him cursing you in his car, not that he was trying to complain for the show. Next came the soap. You flipped your hair over your shoulder as you turned around, your shorts definitely now shorter than they were when you first came out. You bent over to soak the sponge in the soapy water, giving the liner boy in his car a perfect view of your ass. Your curves were driving the poor boy crazy. His crush on you was undeniably growing deeper and deeper with every little stunt you decided to pull on him right now. You pulled yourself up, smirking over your shoulder at his staring and came back to the window. You scrubbed along his hood and driver side before you pressed your chest right against the window. If he wasn’t hard before he definitely was now.

The way your nipples poked out from your shirt disappeared when your fleshy mounds pressed against his widow. It was so sexy seeing your breasts just flush against his window. He wanted to just lean in and press his face into them. Suffocate himself in them and die a happy man between your tits. Trying to reach the top of his car, you started to slide up and down his window, furthering your actions of lewdly pressing up against his car. Scaramouche couldn’t help but scowl at your teasing behavior, his cheeks becoming red once more before he shamelessly started to palm at his boner. A shaky curse left his mouth as he watched closely as your breasts smeared up and down on the clear glass. His lustful thoughts of you were interrupted when he caught sight of a jock approaching.

“Heyyy, Ms. Secretary.” The sultry voice of a certain ginger cane to your ears, making you turn around with your chest still smushed against Scaramouche’s car. You gave him a slightly glare, cheeks flushed as you didn’t want to reveal your chest so closely to anyone else but Scaramouche. Your crush on him was clear as day, but that didn’t stop the quarterback from coming to try and flirt with you and get into your pants. “Do you need something, Childe? I’m with a customer right now.” The ginger laughed, causing Scaramouche to look around your frame to see the ginger looking you up and down. His hands placed on your hips before he leaned over you against Scaramouche’s car and looked into your eyes. “Well I couldn’t help but notice you being extra slutty with this customer, who’s in there anyways?”

“What the fuck Childe? Back off!” You turned and pushed the boy off of you, putting your hands on your hips and giving him one of your famous glares. The ginger only laughed and whistled as he too caught sight of your nipples greeting everyone through your shirt. Scaramouche could slightly hear your conversation from his car and growled to himself at the rude way Childe was treating you. Jealousy bubbled in his throat and he rolled down his window, not caring if water got into his car. You turned around in surprise to see Scaramouche glaring. “Go mind your own business, block head.” The jock could only laugh and crunch over in amusement at knowing that you were trying to show off for the schools lost infamous loner. “Him?! Wow you sure have stooped low, (Y/N). For shrimp dick over here? That’s the funniest shit I’ve seen all day!”

“Actually-“ You call out aggressively, glaring at Childe before turning to Scaramouche and leaning down towards his face. He backed away instantly at your closeness, confused at what you were about to do. You grabbed his face harshly, pulling him in and slamming your lips against his in a messy kiss. Poor Scaramouche was too stunned at your actions to even kiss you back. You pulled his hair to lean him bsck, forcing your tongue into his mouth to curl over his gums and collide with his own hot muscle. A low groan sounded from his throat, finally melting himself into your touch. Desciding to give Childe a show, you pulled away slightly and swirled your tongue with his just to show Childe the depth of how lewd you were for ‘shrimp dick.’ You pulled away from him and let him go, turning back to Childe with a triumphant smirk. “-he’s my boyfriend. And if you bother me or him, I might just have to tell the student council president what you’ve been doing after school near the dumpsters.”

Childe’s face instantly paled. “You fucking wouldn’t.” He dared. “Oh, I think I fucking would. Now scram, block-head.” You shooed him away, glaring at his retreating form with anger at the way he treated you and Scaramouche. Speaking of him, you turned around quickly with your face completely red, finally coming to terms with what you had just done. “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t-“ Scaramouche pulled on your shirt, giving him a generous glance at your cleavage before he came to your ear with a demanding tone. Forget the car wash. Just get in and fucking kiss me again.” A rush of heat came rushing through your body, a single tear cascading down your thighs at his dominant tone. You quickly hopped around on the other side of the car and buckled in. “Better idea… let’s just go to your house and let me prove them wrong about you having a shrimp dick.”

“Bring that shit up again and I’m kicking you out.”

He didn’t kick you out, and he definitely did not have a shrimp dick. Thus, starting your weird fucked up relationship with Scaramouche.

Hope you enjoyed my first thirst! Is it a thirst though? Not really sure, but it’s just supposed to be a cute lil’ crack fic not one of my real stories 💜

Next story up… ‘Claiming’ ft. Xiao

Stayed tuned! ;)

-WX

#scaramouche #scaranation #scarabae #genshin impact #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #thirst trap ;)#adventures with scaramouche and wanderer

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aliwritesfic · 1 year

Text

The Wedding Date (Frankie Morales x F!Reader) (part 13)

Previous Next The Beginning

“Hello? You home?” Olivia opened your front door. “Jesus fuck you look like shit.”

You hadn’t changed out of your sweats from yesterday, your hair was a tangled mess and you had an angry blind pimple taking up most of the space on your chin. Also, you had been crying, a lot.

“I’ll kill him,” Olivia pulled you into a hug.

“You don’t even know what happened,” you sobbed into her shoulder.

“I don’t have to,” she said with simple finality. “I will kill him.”

She handed you a bottle of cold Rose and pulled another two out of her bag. “We’re skipping glasses tonight. Tell me everything.”

You unscrewed the top of the bottle, taking a long swig. “It just-just came out of nowhere? Am I fucking stupid, Liv?” You flopped back onto the couch, hugging the wine close. Olivia sat next to you, dragging your legs over her lap.

“You’re not stupid,” she replied firmly, “he’s a fucking donkey-brained dickhead.”

“He just cares about his family,” you moaned. You couldn’t fault him for it.

“Nuh-uh, nuh-uh, what did he say?”

You handed Olivia your phone, open to the last message from Frankie. You watched her face as she read the message; the raised brow, mouth twisted in disgust. She had never been great at hiding emotion.

“I never thought he would be so spineless to do something like this over a text. I’m sorry I got you into this.” Olivia took your hand, squeezing it in hers.

You sniffled. “Not your fault, I even warned myself not to get attached to him. I wrote myself a stupid note and everything.”

“You wrote a note?”

Nodding miserably, you pulled the note you had written almost two months ago out of the pocket of your sweats. You had fished it out of your drawer last night, reading it and the text over and over again, hating yourself.

“Holy fuck you wrote a note,” Olivia handed the note back. You decided to either set it on fire or shove it in the garbage disposal. “Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do tonight.” You lifted your head slightly, decided that was too much effort and let it thunk back down on the arm of the couch.

“First, I’m washing your hair. Then, you’ve still got that mud mask, right? Slapping that on you, no arguments. Third, take out for dinner. And then maybe, if you’re feeling up to it, murder?”

“I’m not hungry,” you protested. You had lost your appetite last night and had only had a handful of shredded cheese in the day that had followed.

“You will be,” Olivia promised.

She guided you gently to your bathroom, helping you take off your sweats. “Are you wearing deodorant?”

“I think I forgot it,” you held back the sob.

“Oh, babe. No wonder you stink.”

You couldn’t help it - the sobs turned into laughs. It was the exact type of thing you would have said to her before doing what she did next, which was shove you under the warm water of the shower.

Olivia successfully distracted you, her fingers almost pulling your hair clean out of your skull as she lathered the shampoo.

“Fucking hell! Don’t quit your day job.”

“I don’t have the skills to be a hairdresser. Or the patience.”

“Those bangs you have yourself in college beg to differ.”

“Bitch!” Olivia laughed as she sprayed you in the face with the shower nozzle. Quickly, you were both doubled over laughing, dripping with soap and water, a temporary but desperately needed reprieve from the tears.

Once your hair was washed, you were dressed in fresh clothes and sitting on the rug, leaning against Olivia’s legs as she combed your hair. The wine was being steadily depleted, the TV on Youtube showing the ‘Most Shocking Discoveries on Kitchen Nightmares’. It took you back to your college days, when you and Olivia had first roomed together, self-care nights when one of you was feeling heartbroken or downtrodden.

You deleted and blocked Frankie’s number, not wanting to have the option of drunk calling him and embarrassing yourself even further.

“This is such bullshit,” Olivia muttered, glaring drunkenly at her phone.

“What?”

“I’m trying to get William to bring us more hooch but the sonov’a bitch isn’t answering his phone. Lemme try Benjamin.”

“I’ve got some weed somewhere,” you offered. Olivia gripped your shoulders, eyes wide.

“How much?”

“Enough.”

An hour later, the pair of you were sitting out in the backyard, illuminated by the fairy lights that you had strung up the previous spring, steadily getting higher and drunker. “Should we order pizza or that new Japanese place?”

You shrugged, stomach rumbling. A reminder that you hadn’t eaten, and a reminder that your heart still ached under all that numbing. “Both, but get Ben to pick it up when he get us the drinks.”

Olivia shot finger guns at you. “Think he’ll go for it?”

You passed her the joint. “He has to if he doesn’t want to get wailed on.” Olivia snorted and pressed her phone to her ear.

“Hey, yeah, it’s me - no, shut the fu - no listen to me for one fucking second, you douche! No, no, here’s what’s happening . . . listen to me fuck, we’re getting pizza and Japanese, we need you to pick them up . . . why? Because delivery is expensive, you walnut. Ugh, yes, you can have some, obviously. No . . . yeah, I’ll explain why when you get here. Just an FYI, though, your stupid ‘friend’ is a spineless, brainless jellyfish! I’ll text you the address. Yeah, yeah, I love you too. Oh, and just come around the back when you get here.”

You ordered the pizza while Olivia ordered the Japanese, calling out food options to one another as you selected add to cart. It was probably more food than either of you could eat, even with Benny’s help, but by god, if you weren’t going to stuff your face until your shorts didn’t button, and then just a little more.

The man in question arrived a little later, holding the drinks in one hand and the bags of food in the other. “Ya’ll really gonna eat all this?”

“Are you really asking us that right now?” Olivia took a bag from him, clearing space so he could sit on the grass. Benny shrugged and flipped open a box of pizza.

“While I’m honored to be invited to your backyard picnic-”

“Technically, you weren’t invited-”

“I just gotta know what the hell is going on.”

You sighed and grabbed a container of gyoza. “Heartbreak.” Benny waited patiently for you to continue. “Frankie . . . he uh, well, he wants to make it work with Ariel, I guess. No, I don’t guess. That’s exactly what he said in the text.”

Benny sat back, looking confused. “He texted that? He didn’t call?”

You nodded, taking another gyoza. That was what hurt the most - that he didn’t even have the fucking balls to call. A call, at least, would have allowed you to hear him say it, and allowed you to call him a dick. It would have given you some sort of closure.

Instead, all you got was a stupid fucking text message.

You took a deep breath, pushing down the anger that was beginning to bubble up along with the sadness. Your voice took on an edge as you spoke. “I just wasn’t fucking important enough to warrant a conversation.”

“Ariel?” Benny was perplexed, scratching at his chin with his free hand. “They don’t even like each other as people. The only reason they still talk is because of Lails.”

Apparently, they liked each other a lot more than Benny thought. You watched as Benny shook his head, mouth moving soundlessly. You could see the cogs turning in his brain.

Benny stayed a few more hours, long after the food went cold and the wine warm. You could hear the ocean, steady in its crashing waves. The topic of Frankie was now being avoided altogether, and you had successfully avoided tearing up for almost a full hour.

Well, thirty-seven minutes. Not that you were checking.

“Would you be sad if I moved to Antarctica?”

Benny and Olivia looked at you, and it struck you just how similar they looked. Fuck, slap a beard on her or a wig on him and they’d be almost indistinguishable.

“You hate the cold,” Olivia said simply.

“I could tolerate it,” you shot back. There were many benefits to Antarctica; the marine life, isolation, something new, as far away from heartbreak as humanly possible . . . really, it had everything you needed.

“I’ll take you seriously when you’re not baked.”

“You should always take me seriously,” you deadpanned, “I’m the most serious person I know. I don’t know what a joke is.”

“If you for real flee the fucking country I’m living here.”

“It’s happening.”

It wasn’t, in any capacity, happening. But it got you thinking that maybe you needed a holiday; probably not to Antarctica, but somewhere where you needed your passport to get into. Maybe you would become one of those people who traveled the world with just their wits and backpack. That was manageable.

“Ben, have you done much international travel?”

He shrugged. “A little bit here and there.”

“Any recommendations?”

“I hear Norway is nice.”

“You’ve never been to Norway.” Olivia raised a brow.

“I hear it’s nice, though. I don’t have to be a fucking Lonely Planet guide to hear stuff.”

It was past midnight by the time your eyelids started feeling heavy, your body weary. You closed your eyes, letting the night wash over you. Benny and Olivia were bickering about something, from what you gathered it had something to do with an ex of Benny’s contacting Olivia.

Without meaning to, you fell asleep. Your heart still ached for Frankie, for what could have been, for the fool you had been. But it hurt just a tiny bit less.

Eventually, it wouldn’t hurt at all.

The pounding on his door came halfway through eating dinner. Frankie set down his bowl, paused the show he was watching, and stood. Before he had even gotten halfway to the door, the pounding sounded again. “Alright, I’m coming!” He opened the door, glaring at Benny who had his fist raised. “What?”

“Are you fucking okay?” Benny pushed past, looking for god knew what. “Are you being held hostage? Do you have, what’s it called, fuckin’ Stockholm Syndrome?”

Frankie followed. “What?”

Benny stopped in the kitchen, apparently given up on his search. “That’s the only explanation for you wanting to get back together with Ariel?”

Now Frankie really was confused. “Ariel?”

“Look, Fish, I love you, but is this honestly the best thing for you? I’ve been reading a lot about how we value oursel-”

“What are you talking about?”

“You and Ariel, man. I know the divorce was hard, but I thought you were moving on.”

“I have moved on?” Frankie thought of you, how he wouldn’t have entertained the idea of you if he wasn’t well and truly moved on.

“Then why,” Benny threw his hands in the air as he spoke, “are you and Ariel gettin’ back together?”

“We’re not,” Frankie said firmly, though still confused. “Where did you even get that idea?”

“Where-where did I get the idea? I’ll tell you where, Francisco! The fucking text that you sent the one person on this planet who I think is your whole fucking soulmate. And guess what, now she’s thinking about moving to Antarctica!”

“I never sent anything like that,” Frankie said quietly, mind racing. He had been trying to get through to you ever since Ariel and Laila had left, but you had been radio silent so far. He had chalked it up to you being busy - you probably had turned your phone off or were out on the ocean, out of cell range.

He grabbed his phone from the counter and immediately pressed the buttons to call you. As he expected, it went straight to a robotic voice telling him the call could not be connected.

“Where is she?” Frankie looked at Benny with pleading eyes, now struck with the realisation that with every single moment that passed, it would be less likely that you would ever speak to him again.

“At home, probably. She was still pretty upset when I left.”

“Lock up when you leave!” Frankie was out the door and in his truck in moments. He knew exactly what had happened, how this had happened. Now he just had to hope that you believed him when he explained.

Frankie wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t even give him the time of day. God knew he didn’t deserve it after being such a fool. And he had been, he thought firmly, for trusting that Ariel wouldn’t pull some shit like this after he had suggested she stay the night so she and Lails could avoid an accident on the drive back to Tampa.

When he was in the shower, probably or . . . no. Ariel had asked to use his phone; hers was dead and his charger wasn’t compatible. She needed to let her parents know about the change in plan so they didn’t go sick with worry when they didn’t show up.

Frankie turned onto your street, palms slick with sweat. He could only hope that you’d listen, that you’d understand.

He parked behind your car, pulled his cap off and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t put it back on as he knocked on your door, heart in his throat as he waited for you to answer.

@laichka @paintlavillered @idreamofboobear @pjkimrn @gracie7209 @sunnshineeexoxo @lorosette @fangirl-316 @dihra-vesa @astoryisaloveaffair @theanothersherlockian @pedritobalmando @blub-senpai @maievdenoir @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @bobbydearest @icanbeyourjedi @goldielocks2004 @1800-fight-me @littledragonlady @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @ficsbynight @hotchlover @dobbyjen @athalien @vanered15 @jitterbugs927 @ritasantosworld @gaypoetsblog

#fransisco morales #the wedding date #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction

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redflagsandbanners · 2 years

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Nancy discovering she has a praise kink.

Explicit Sexual Content. And by that I mean Graphic Smut happening for no other reason just me being incredibly bored in class. Minors look away.

There is a movie, playing in the background, playing on the small, old TV in the corner of Nancy's room. There is a movie, playing sci-fi and horror and something that had Nancy yawning in the first fifteen minutes of slowness.

There is a movie, but Nancy doesn't pay it any attention because there is also a girl underneath her.

Naked and beautiful and melting into her sheets and blushing a pretty pink color when Nancy kisses on that spot of her neck right next to her pulse point.

There is a girl underneath her that, when Nancy kisses that spot, sighs a deep sound of pleasure, arches against Nancy's front enough for Nancy to rock her hips down, and whispers; "Oh, Jesus, I can feel how wet you are. This feels so good, baby. Keep doing that. Please".

Nancy eyes shut closed. Warmth laps through the entirety of her body and, if she didn't feel hot already, from having Robin this close to her, she sure feels the heat now.

Her hands clench around Robin's bare waist as she does as told, rolling her hips back in and licking a teasing kiss over the throbbing pulse point, getting another sigh. She hides her face in the crook of the girl's neck.

The request comes out muffled. "Keep talking to me like that".

Unfortunately, Robin pulls back in an effort to meet her eyes. "Like what?"

"Like... when it feels good. When I make you feel good. When I..." - Nancy cannot keep looking at her and this has never happened before, not like this, never this intense - "...when I do something good".

Robin leans up and carefully kisses her. Trails a hand up and down the bare length of her spine and rests the other one on her ass.

"You're always good", Robin whispers, softly gropping while saying so. Nancy presses her hips down in response, eyes slightly rolling back when she feels wetness. Robin's or her own, she doesn't know but doesn't care when it feels like this. "You're always so good to me, baby".

Her face is burning red. The damp curls between Robin's legs tease a brief touch of more against Nancy’s own. She grinds down as Robin presses up, clit bumping against clit and a pair of moans escape them.

"Keep going", Robin's free hand snap down to her ass too, the palm colliding slightly rougher than meant to. Not quite a slap, but something able to make Nancy's head blur and her body grind down harder.

The position isn't perfect, the pressure slipping and the rubbing losing contact; Nancy presses both palms on the mattress and shifts so Robin's hips are pressed at a slight angle.

"Oh, right there", Robin chokes back a moan at the new contact. "Right there, babygirl -"

Arms trembling and sweat breaking out across every inch of her, Nancy tries to go faster. A wet sticking sound drifts to her ears. Each rubbing press of her clit on Robin makes a rough shudder come out of the both of them. Oh, god, she's so close.

"Robin -"

"Look at me. Let me see you coming, baby". Nancy stains to open her eyes and lift her head, but she does so and gets rewarded with burning eyes locking into her own. Robin purrs, "Good. Keep looking at me, Nance, good girl".

Her muscles lock up in an instance, tensing to the point of trembling and her hips knock into Robin one more time before she comes harder than she has probably ever had.

She collapses on Robin just as the girl rides out the last of her own orgasm. The two of them pant, sweaty and sticking and completely worn out.

Nancy nuzzles in a soft boob, feeling sleep drift through her mind.

Barely feels the kiss on the top of her head.

Robin traces fingertips up and down her back.

"That was amazing", she whispers and Nancy moves just enough to kiss the side of her boob. She is still laying between Robin's legs, feeling wetness against her tummy, but she does not move an inch. They'll clean up later. "You were amazing, Nance".

Uselessly, Nancy whimpers, turning to press her forehead on Robin's chest. "Are you seriously trying to get me hot for a second round right now? I seriously don't think I can take anymore".

"Well..." - Robin's voice is heavy and when Nancy looks up she taps two fingers against her mouth - "...why don't you be a good girl and come up here to find out".

Nancy blushes bright red and absolutely hates the way it works.

#there is seriously no reason for this #no idea what happened #sprays phone with holy water #ronance smutty prompts #anonask

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vinvantae · 2 months

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Can someone take my phone away??

I need to be sprayed down with holy water

#Benedict bridgerton get out of my head challenge failed #someone sedate me #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #with the two f1 tiktoks just to break it up ofc

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luxthestrange · 2 years

Text

Incorrect quotes#725 Heat time

Mc*throwing pillows at the said demon and about to spray holy water but the spray bottle are empty*THE POWE OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!

Horny Demon Brother/Dateable*Looking at you running away from him*Does it Mc?~

Mc*Throwing at the brother/dateable things they like to distract them*THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!!

Horny Demon Brother/Dateable: The "Power of christ"compelling me?~is that what's happening?~*Walking faster towards you, with lustful gaze*

Mc*Already calling for help with trembling hand*THE POWER OF CRIST COMPELS YOU!?!

Horny Demon Brother/Dateable*Grabbing your phone with a grin and dark chuckle*Guess what?~....It's not that compelling!~

Mc:.....AAAH!? I JUST GOT MY LEGS BACK-*Being pounced on by your horny demon*

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innalheid · 9 months

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okay. I'm gonna make this post because I really struggle with eating semi decently and this is Helpful to me, so hopefully it will be Helpful to someone else.

Do you also struggle with cooking consistently? Hate dishes? Hate chopping? Would rather eat a box of crackers for dinner because it's easier and less mess than cooking? Okay I have a recipe for you. And some tips.

Your new best friend: a rice cooker if you don't have one. Save the rice+water amount instructions somewhere (I have them screenshotted in my phone) you can have rice in like under 30min. Sometimes under 20. Yknow what you can do with rice? Put sauce on it. Can of beans. Salsa. Salsa AND sour cream holy!! I recently discovered teriyaki sauce is actually hella easy to make, when I have a few extra spoons.

You can make rice with just water!!! Easy!! Or you make it with broth or stock from the store also easy!! Extra flavour!! Sometimes I put a bay leaf in while it's cooking c:

Okay next best friend. Big bag of frozen boneless chicken breasts. Lasts for-fuckin-ever. And you say Anni defrosting meat is so hard 😭 I getchu. Actually once I learned how to use my microwaves defrost setting it only takes like 15 min!!! BUT - you do not have to defrost these chicken breasts - you can cook them from frozen! 400° oven or toaster oven, 40min, done. Put some oil or spray some pam on them before you stick em in to keep them from drying out. YES you can season them how you like but they are also Fine without. Esp if you're putting a sauce on em. Yes I am white yes I am pro seasoning. But this is for ppl who are Tired and just want to eat something Hot and Healthy.

So. You are hungry. You put your chicken in the oven and set a timer. Halfway through you start your rice cooker up. Big bang boom they finish Around the same time. Put em in a bowl put some sauce on em. I like to put salsa on. Veggies, protein, AND starch, in less than an hour, with like five minutes max of me actually Doing stuff. I have warm + filling food and have only dirtied the bowl I'm eating from and maybe an oven pan.

Obviously cuz of preferences and dietary restrictions this isn't for everyone, but I thought I'd share a super easy meal and hopefully it helps even just 1 person. And hey, don't fuckin clown on this post - I'd you wanna add your own super easy recipes, or give spice mix suggestions, that's great! but don't be a dick to people who like things plain. it ain't hurting you. Everybody niceys 🤍

#ref #food ref #recipes #helpful #dinner #meals

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esthermitchell-author · 8 months

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[Part 5 of 6] "Rescue Me": Being the Story of an Angel, a Demon, and the Second Coming (Fan fiction based on Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett)

Part V: Averting Armageddon, Mark II

AZ Fell and Co. Bookshop, Soho, London -- 1 Week Later

Something was wrong. Crowley smelled the strangeness on the air, even though the day outside looked sunny and warm. He pulled his mobile phone from his pocket, worrying it between his hands as he battled himself over calling Aziraphale. Last thing he wanted to do was put his angel in danger by calling him if he was around any of the bastards up there who were looking for reasons to hurt him. Still, the strangeness he smelled made him uneasy and anxious.

A throat cleared behind him, and he turned from the window to find Muriel paused several steps away, worrying their hands nervously. Crowley rolled his eyes.

"For Satan's sake, spit it out already."

Muriel flinched, and Crowley reminded himself this angel wasn't used to ignoring his epithets. He would have to watch his mouth -- something he wasn't used to doing. But he'd do anything for Aziraphale's safety.

Sighing heavily, he rubbed his eyes. "All finished?"

"Um... Yes. What are they for?"

Crowley resisted the urge to swear and sighed, instead. He'd set Muriel to the task of blessing the bathtub full of water balloons and plant misters he spent the better part of yesterday filling. After all, best way to destroy a demon was holy water. He'd just have to be careful to stay out of the path of them when the humans got to lobbing and spraying shit around. "They're for the Damned, Muriel. How else you think the lot of you are going to deal with the Legions of Hell?"

Muriel fell silent for a moment, but he knew they hadn't left. He could feel them still hovering silently. He resisted the urge to sigh, this time. "What is it?"

"You sense it too, don't you?" Muriel sounded worried and confused. Nothing unusual, as far as Crowley had paid any attention to.

Then Muriel's words caught up to him, and his attention snapped to them. "What, exactly, are you sensing?"

"I don't know!" Muriel shrank backward, and Crowley barely resisted the urge to swear again as he snagged the dark glasses from the desk beside him and slapped them onto his face. He missed Aziraphale and being able to be himself.

Had his angel really only been gone for a week? It felt like years, and he questioned how he ever survived decades -- never mind centuries -- without his angel's company now that he knew without a single doubt Aziraphale felt the same as him.

Eyes closed behind his dark shades, Crowley tried to calm himself, to tell himself it meant nothing that a former thirty-seventh class scrivener could sense a change he sensed, too. No reason to call Aziraphale, and...

"Fuck it." He pulled up the number for the phone he gave Aziraphale and tapped the call icon.

"The angel at this number isn't taking calls. Leave a message." Crowley's own voice growled back at him, the voicemail he'd set up knowing Aziraphale wouldn't think to. His angel was a lot of wonderful things, but up-to-date on technology wasn't one of those things.

"It's me, angel. Call me back as soon as you can. Something's up."

Tapping the end call icon, Crowley dropped the phone on the desk and hung his head with a heavy sigh, resting his hands against his hips. Where are you, angel?

Aziraphale better be okay, or Crowley would burn Heaven out of existence. Snapping his attention to Muriel, he hissed, "Do you have a radio or television around here, now?"

Muriel swallowed hard, shaking their head.

"N-no." They brightened, then. "But I can go over the road and ask Nina. I believe she does."

Crowley nodded. "Go. Don't come back unless you hear something."

He wanted to be alone, right now, anyway. Well, not really, but if he couldn't have his angel with him, he didn't want anyone around. He could already feel the tremble trying to break loose.

Pacing around the floorspace near Aziraphale's desk, his gaze kept moving between the silent phone on the desk and the darkening sky outside the window. That wasn't normal cloud cover. He knew abnormal weather when he saw it -- he'd created enough of it over the millennia, himself.

A frown pulled at his features as he stared up at the sky and a tingle of celestial energy coursed through him, just before the sun started to fade and darken in a way it should never, ever do.

"Shit. That's not good," he muttered to himself, and instantly wondered if this was Heaven or Hell at work. No way would Aziraphale allow the angelic Host to play with the sun like this, so Crowley figured it was probably Hell. Still, he was left wondering who suggested the idea to them. After all, demons -- as a rule -- didn't have enough imagination amongst the lot of them to power a lightbulb, let alone think of something as catastrophic as putting out the sun.

After all, despite Crowley's erstwhile memos to the contrary, human beings had beat Hell to every truly evil global -- or even regional -- work in history, barring Armageddon -- which Crowley remained convinced reeked more of Heaven's doing than Hell's.

Before his eyes, the clouds started blurring, and he swore he could see the cosmos leaking through into the middle of the daytime.

"Well, that shouldn't be happening," he muttered to himself, wondering if he was just running mad. When he glanced at the people moving about on the street, they weren't reacting to the sky at all, which meant... Was he hallucinating, then?

"Huh. Haven't done that since 1827." He blinked, hoping to clear the vision, but it remained. His frown deepened as his gaze dropped to his mobile phone, still laying silent on the desk. "Where the deuce are you, angel? Why haven't you called me?"

Panic he tried to tell himself he didn't feel clawed at Crowley's insides, and images he was afraid to give in to played through his mind despite his wish. Sometimes, he wondered if God allowed him -- a demon -- to retain his imagination as an added curse for asking so many questions. That imagination sure got him into a steaming pile of trouble more than once over the millennia.

It wasn't being much comfort now, either.

"Mr. Crowley! Mr. Crowley!" The sound of Muriel's voice jerked Crowley's attention from his worried musing, and he instantly looked to his mobile phone, fear he'd missed a call from his angel tearing through him.

Nothing. His eyes closed with anxiety rather than relief. Come on, angel. Call me. Give me a sign you're all right. He was losing his fucking mind, waiting for Aziraphale to call him back. He knew Heaven wasn't kind to his angel.

"What in Satan's name are you running around yelling about, now?" he demanded of Muriel, his irritability bleeding through. He ignored their flinch, this time. Aziraphale could be angry at him for upsetting Muriel, later. At least that would mean his angel was back, safe and sound.

"S-s-sorry, M-Mr. Crowley. I just, you said to only come back if there was something happening. There is."

He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, counting backward from ten. He did that a lot, lately. Funny kind of world, that.

"I can see that, Muriel," he gritted out, trying to hold onto his temper. "I have eyes."

"Huh?" Muriel looked perplexed.

"The sun. Sky. Whatever." He waved a hand toward the strange, cosmic-looking clouds and darkening sun outside the window.

Muriel frowned, still looking confused. Satan preserve him, was this angel completely clueless? He watched them squint as they stared out the window, before their gaze came back to him. "Are you feeling all right? I don't see anything."

Crowley frowned, and ripped the shades from his face, wondering if his glasses were playing tricks on him. But no, he could still see the dark sky, riddled with pinpricks of light and swirling with nebula he helped create, so long ago he should have already forgotten them.

He hadn't, though, and they were right before him, now, studding the sky like oddly-shaded clouds, moving slowly across a sun now closing in on grey. His attention flew back to Muriel.

"You're telling me you can't see that? You can't see the nebula in the clouds? Or the dark sun?"

Muriel looked again, before a cheery smile spread over their face. "Nope! Everything looks just the way it always does! Just the way it should!"

The panic he'd kept a tight rein on until now started to climb up Crowley's throat. Why was he hallucinating? He hadn't had anything -- not even alcohol -- in days. He'd been too stressed to do anything but sit or pace right where he was, waiting on contact from Aziraphale. There was nothing else he could do.

He was just reaching for his mobile phone when it suddenly began to ring. He pounced on it immediately, relief rushing through him at the sight of Aziraphale Mobile on the screen. Hitting accept, he shoved it against his ear with a rushed, "Angel. The sky is bloody fucked up."

"Yes, I know." Aziraphale's voice over the phone sounded far away for a moment, then louder as he said, "It's starting. I called Adam. He's on his way to London, along with the others. As soon as they arrive, bring Adam and the dog to the lift. I'll meet you there."

Crowley pulled the phone away from his ear to look at it, frowning, then put it back to his ear. "Let me get this right. You're planning to sneak a demon, a hellhound, and the bloody Antichrist into Heaven?"

"Yes. Now, I must go. I need to call Madame Tracy."

A burst of jealousy flared in Crowley. He wanted to demand Aziraphale stay on the line with him, but instead he managed, "Who the bloody Heaven is Madame Tracy?"

"The lovely woman who let me borrow her body."

"I'm going to ignore that," Crowley quipped, relaxing with a roll of his eyes.

"As you please. She's a more gifted conduit than she believes. I need her to perform a very special task down there. The Legions of Hell will sense Muriel and come there, first."

"You're using them as bait?"

"If you must be so crass, yes. Muriel won't be in any danger."

"Not who I'm worried about being in danger, angel."

"Madame Tracy will be just fine."

"Still not who I'm worried about."

A moment of silence descended, then a huffed-out breath over the line. "Right. I really must go. There's not much time left."

"Right. Aziraphale?"

"Yes?"

"Whatever happens: You're what's made the millennia bearable. I love you."

"Likewise, dear one. Always."

With that, silence filled Crowley's ear and he knew Aziraphale had hung up. Dropping his hands -- one still holding his phone -- to the desktop, he hung his head for a moment as he fought down all the emotions coursing through him.

"What did you have to tell me?" He finally asked of Muriel, whom he sensed still hovering in the background like an anxious puppy.

"It's the news. On the... telly, I think it's called?"

He clenched his hands into fists, listening to the quiet creak of his phone complaining of his grip. "What about it?"

He heard Muriel shifting around. "They... They said there's a h-hurricane in the Middle East. T-they said it's never happened before, and there was a man. He walked out of it? I guess humans don't do that sort of thing?"

Crowley released a bark of laughter. "Walk out of the middle of a bloody hurricane? Not likely, no."

"They're saying he's the Messiah."

That snapped Crowley's attention toward Muriel. "What?"

"The newsman... He said that religious leaders are calling the man from the hurricane the Messiah. How is that possible, Mr. Crowley? Is he the Antichrist?"

Crowley snorted. "Not even. We dealt with that nearly five years ago. You met the bloody Antichrist right here in this shop. Kid with the dog."

Muriel blinked. "A-Adam?"

"That's the one. Turned out to be a half-decent kid, you ask me."

Muriel paled. "Then who...?"

"Not a bloody clue. But I'll bet Michael and that lot will know. Not that I'd go asking them any questions if I were you." He let his head fall back, rolling it against his shoulders to abate the growing tension there. "Take it from me. That lot don't like questions."

******

Tracy Shadwell had left behind her maiden surname along with knee socks and school uniforms, round about the time she turned sixteen. She barely remembered it anymore -- the time or the name. She'd been Madame Tracy -- no surname required -- ever since she learned how easy it was to let others pay her way if she just offered them the chance to natter on to people they thought could hear them on the other side. Other side of what, she'd not believed in until four and a half years ago. She quickly dropped the title, along with the life of her sham Mediumship, and left London with the only man who'd ever been completely honest with her in her life.

He'd been adamant he wouldn't be caught dead living in sin with a reformed witch, so they'd had a hasty ceremony attended by young Newt and his girl, and the families of the children they befriended on that odd venture. Neither she nor her then-fiancé had been all too certain how to -- or indeed if they even should -- invite two supernatural beings to their wedding, and finally decided to just let that sleeping dog lay right where it was.

She'd been quite happy to forget her former life in London, until the day she received the unlikely phone call from Mr. Aziraphale, explaining that it was rather urgent she and her husband come to his bookshop in Soho and that Newt and Anathema would be, in his words "along to convey you to the shop, shortly." She'd admit to anyone who thought to ask how the invitation made her more than a little leery -- especially when Mr. Aziraphale revealed why they'd been invited to London and the part he wished her to play.

She still wasn't all that sure she wanted to be a conduit for anything, having already experienced that terrifying event and finding it most certainly not to her liking, but what was she to do? After all, it wasn't every day that an angel informed you that you'd be a conduit for some kind of important celestial energy.

She fidgeted nervously as they waited for someone to open the bookshop door. Mr. Shadwell, bless him, didn't comment on her nerves. Probably didn't even notice, the poor dear. Losing his place as a Witchfinder had been a difficult thing for him to adapt to, and he was rather shy about most things. She'd bought him a tank full of tropical fish for their first anniversary, in the hope of perking him up a bit. He immediately took to lecturing the colorful things on all manner of things Witchfinder and witch. Whatever made the poor dear happy.

The door to the shop yanked inward and the tall, lanky gentleman who'd been so upset about his car -- and yet so adamant about killing poor Adam Young -- all those years ago glared at them both with a simmering annoyance she could read even with those dark sunglasses on. Why did he need sunglasses inside? There was a reason, she was sure of it, but she couldn't recall all that much about him from years ago. Mostly just the back of his head, as he seemed far more interested in talking to Mr. Aziraphale at the time.

"What the Heaven-- Oh, it's you. Where're the rest of them?"

"Just parking the car," she answered as cheerily as she could. "Is Mr. Aziraphale about? He said it was most urgent we get here today."

"Don' be talkin' tae tha' Son o' the Devil, Jezabel."

"I think that's probably more me," came a voice, from behind them, accompanied by a yipping bark. Tracy turned to smile at Adam Young and his three friends.

"How lovely to see you, children." She turned back toward the scowling man in the doorway. "Do you mind if we come in?"

"Suit yourself." He stepped back and held the door open, letting them in. His hand fell on Adam's shoulder as the boy passed him, making Tracy pause, too, as he said, "You. Antichrist. Take your dog and go wait over there."

Tracy followed his gesture toward the opposite corner of the street and instantly bristled. "He shouldn't go into a pub like that alone..."

"Trust me, he's not. Going into the pub, I mean." He nodded. "Go on." He shook his head at Adam's friends. "Not you lot. Stay here with the... assistant bookseller, there," he gestured toward what looked like a young woman in ill-fitting trousers cinched tight about her waist and a loose blouse of some kind, her dark hair looking fit to topple out of its haphazard bun at any moment, before she disappeared upstairs, "until everyone else arrives."

"You can't tell us what to do," the lone girl in the group, Pepper, piped up.

"I can, I will, I did."

Tracy could see the irritation rising on the man's face and had a creeping sense angering him wasn't the way to go. "All right, everyone. Let's just go inside and wait for Mr. Aziraphale. I'm sure Adam will be just fine with Mr....um..."

"Crowley," Mr. Aziraphale's strange friend provided, then jerked his head toward the inside of the shop as Newt and Anathema joined them. "Inside, the lot of you. Except you," he settled his attention on Adam. "Get moving."

Mr. Crowley moved into the shop slightly, calling out, "Oi! Muriel! Keep an eye on this lot. Hand out the misters and start hauling down the rest. Call Maggie and Nina, too."

"I'm terribly sorry," Tracy stopped on her way past him. "But what's really going on?"

Mr. Crowley, on his way out the door, stopped to glance at her. "Oh, yeah. Expect Hell'll pop up, before long."

"You mean... Like last time?"

"Nah. That was Satan. This'll more like be the Damned. Ask Nina and Maggie. They remember." With that cryptic remark, he took off across the street in a saunter she assumed only the most confident of men -- or one who rightly didn't care what the world might assume of him -- might wear when moving about.

Frowning in concern, Tracy turned toward the bookshop, glancing up and down the street as a chill spread up her spine. If she'd ever thought she had any ability to channel the dead, she could really use it, now.

******

To anyone looking in from the outside, it might appear Aziraphale had gathered nothing more than a random collection of society's rejects -- people for whom the world worked in ways entirely foreign to most of the planet. And perhaps that was true. But the most important thing every single one of them -- with the possible exception of Sergeant Shadwell, whose seemed particularly limited -- possessed, which Aziraphale believed vital to winning a war against both Heaven and Hell, was a healthy imagination. They were capable -- right down to Dog -- of conjuring up ingenious ideas.

Aziraphale knew that ideas were something both Heaven and Hell lacked almost entirely. Heaven was too preoccupied with rehashing and repackaging the same old "Great Plan" they'd been peddling for thousands of years -- a plan Aziraphale had only recently discovered was a complete and utter sham, cobbled together by another very creative human thousands of years ago and repeated ad nauseum by the Metatron, Michael, and the like, until everyone just took it as a given it was supposed to be. And Hell... well, the only imagination to come out of Hell in over six thousand years was Crowley's, and it was Crowley's imagination, more than any other, Aziraphale was banking on to do the most damage.

But Aziraphale didn't share any of this with anyone. Not because he meant to keep it a secret but because, well, Aziraphale was, for all his steadying calm at times, quite excitable when devising plans. So, as the Legions of Hell began rising up all around the exterior of the bookshop, he sent a single text to the entire group in lieu of straightforward instructions -- he was quite proud of having figured out texting all on his own -- containing just three words: Use your imagination.

******

Crowley wasn't sure how he felt about this trip into the Up, he mused as he stood between Aziraphale and Adam on the ride up to Heaven, the former hellhound at Adam's feet eyeing him with vague suspicion. Last time he made this trip was during a desperate situation, calling for desperate measures. He'd needed to know why Gabriel had no memory while everyone wanted the Archangel's head on a platter like John the bloody Baptist.

This time, he had the distinct displeasure of knowing not only was he walking into what would most likely be a battlefield where he was at a distinct disadvantage -- show him a demon willingly walking into the place that created holy water, and he'd show you a demon with a death wish -- but his angel was right beside him, in probably even more danger than his damned arse.

"Don't suppose I need a disguise, this time," Crowley mused aloud, forcing sardonic humor into his voice to cover his uneasiness.

"Why on earth would you need a disguise?" Aziraphale seemed put-out by the very idea. "They're going to know it's you, anyway."

"What would you disguise yourself as?" Adam wanted to know, his eyes alight at the idea of disguises and adventures as Crowley glanced his way. "Me, I think I'd want to be a pirate."

"In Heaven?" Aziraphale's attention turned to the boy in surprise. "What kind of disguise would that be?"

"We're going to Heaven?" Suddenly, the boy looked less enthused by this adventure. "Am I going to have to die?"

"How old are you, again?" Crowley rolled his eyes behind his dark shades. "Of course you don't have to die. That's what the lift is for. You think they let demons just pop in whenever we like, or something?"

Adam's gaze fell to Dog. "Hmm. Guess not."

Before the boy could come up with any other strange ideas, the lift opened into Heaven's expansive emptiness and Crowley grimaced as familiar tension gripped him. As he told Adam, he didn't belong here. Not anymore. Yet, for a reason he couldn't figure out, he always felt almost welcome.

"Back again, Crowley? You're becoming quite the regular visitor."

The sound of a voice jerked his attention from his thoughts, and a smirk that was pure bravado on his part slid over his lips as he looked back at the shriveled angel on a hovering chair. "Sorry. Still don't remember you."

The angel huffed out a breath and turned their attention to Aziraphale, even as Adam murmured, "Wicked! They have hoverchairs in Heaven?"

"I've been keeping an eye on things, as you asked. Michael and Uriel are up to something, but the rest seem unaware anything's changed, quite yet. Imagine that won't last long."

Crowley frowned at Aziraphale. "Angel, what's going on?"

"Oh, Saraqael's been assisting me in my preparations." Aziraphale beamed at him, looking totally pleased with himself.

"Oh, angel," Crowley muttered, lifting one hand to rub up under his shades at his eyes. "You really don't know how to stay out of trouble, do you? How do you know you can trust this one? They were part of Gabriel's trial, y'know."

"I can hear you, you know," Saraqael put in, clearly miffed.

"Have a gold star. Don't care if you hear me. I don't trust you."

"Well, I do," Aziraphale stressed. "They've had my back more than once, up here."

The unintentional implication being, of course, that Crowley hadn't been there to protect him. Crowley winced. Yeah, he deserved that one, even though the mere idea of being an angel again felt somewhere worse than the worst hangover he ever experienced. At least the hangover, he could miracle away.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Fine. Let's get on with things, then."

"Right." Aziraphale laid a comforting hand on Adam's shoulder. "You stay here with Saraqael. They'll take good care of you while Crowley and I collect something we're going to need for our friends down in the bookshop."

"Angel, this is lunacy," Crowley complained, sensing the tension radiating in the air farther away from them. They'd already drawn attention. "We should stick together. Who knows--"

"We'll be just fine," Aziraphale shushed him, grasping his arm and tugging, to indicate he wanted Crowley to follow. "This is important, Crowley."

"Of all the bloody half-arsed things I do for you," Crowley grumbled, but let himself be dragged along. Like he was letting his angel wander around in an angry hornet's nest -- so much for docile little bees -- without him there.

He followed Aziraphale, aware he should shake the angel's grip off his arm, but not the least inclined to give up that touch, no matter where they were. Damn place was a maze of wide-open rooms and constantly-shifting hallways -- all in shades of glowing white. Had it really always been this white around here? He swore he recalled a place full of vibrant color and every hue of the cosmos, once. God had adored color, praising him for his inspirations with the kaleidoscope of the nebula and other cosmos. She'd called him clever, the most creative of Her angels... Yeah, see how long that lasted, once he started asking questions.

Crowley snorted to himself, and blinked as he realized the blinding white was suddenly gone. Pitch darkness hung around him -- a familiar canvas he hadn't seen in so many millennia he actually thought it was just a dream he once had, until now.

"Angel, where are we? Where are we going?" Crowley's voice echoed in the vast darkness of the place they had entered. Until this moment, he'd been unaware Heaven housed anyplace other than the silver-white halls they'd first entered from the lift.

But no. Something inside him tickled with familiarity – as if he'd returned to a home he should know but had forgotten.

"Nearly there, now," Aziraphale's voice floated through the vastness, echoing softly, like the light around Crowley, growing brighter and more beautiful in soft pulses of color and light.

Then, with a gasp, he realized where he was, and why Aziraphale had insisted Adam stay behind with Saraqael, as he gazed into the very heart of a star and managed a choked, "The very first star."

While God had allowed the design of this star to be copied and strewn across the universe, long-lived but still capable of death, She had loved his first creation – cobbled from celestial dust and his own wondering light – so much She promised it would never know death and would inspire all life to thrive.

After his fall – well, push, really, but potayto, potahto – he forgot all about it. Forgot a lot of things, actually.

Now, flashes of that forgotten wonder streaked through him, and he reached out, feeling the crackle of energy dance over his fingertips.

"Why are we here, angel?" He thought he might know. After all, he knew his angel like the back of his hand.

"It's the strongest power without a body in the universe," Aziraphale explained. "I thought I might give our human compatriots a helping hand."

"You're gonna use that Medium as a conduit for a bloody star? How d'you know you won't kill her?"

Aziraphale sighed. "I just do. She's much stronger than she seems. I got the sense of that when she shared her body with me, before."

"That never sounds any less strange, no matter how you say it, you know." Crowley shook his head, his lips tugging with a smirk. "All right, angel. So how d'you propose we get this starlight into her? Don't suppose Heaven's got a post box in the past ten thousand years or so?"

"Don't be silly," Aziraphale huffed with a roll of his eyes, and it struck Crowley once again just how adorable his angel really was.

He attempted to cover the increase of his heartrate with a bored-sounding, "And just how long do we have until this Second Coming of yours starts?"

"It already has, Crowley." Aziraphale didn't seem inclined to pay him more than the most basic attention, at the moment. The angel was busy gathering starlight into some manner of celestial container. "And it's not my anything, Crowley. I'm trying to stop it."

"About that. You're the Supreme Archangel of all Heaven. Can't you just... I dunno... call it all off?"

"Call it off?" Aziraphale's bright, cerulean eyes snapped his way, full of annoyance. "Crowley, really. You know what happened to Gabriel when he said 'no'. Besides, I've been trying. For six months."

Which meant, in Aziraphale's prissy way of avoiding coming right out with it, they were well and truly fucked on this one. Good thing he put his own plan into action back on Earth. At least they wouldn't have to worry about Hell, even if Aziraphale's plans for Madame Tracy went pear-shaped. "Right, then. How can I help?"

"For now, just let me know if anyone's coming. Last thing we want is Michael or Uriel catching us in here."

A frown stole over Crowley's face, even as the clenching certainty something wasn't right settled in his chest. Aziraphale shouldn't fear Michael or Uriel like this. He currently outranked them. So why was his angel so anxious about being discovered by subordinates?

That was a question for another time. For now, Crowley focused all his senses outward, actively hunting for signs of discovery or the approach of any other being. It felt good, in a way, to be back to what he felt most right doing -- protecting his angel.

Crowley hadn't a clue how much time passed since they'd come in here -- he'd forgotten just how turned around the absence of time could make any being, after all the millennia of structured time on Earth -- but he sighed in relief and dropped his active searching when Aziraphale turned toward him with a pleased smile on his face and a glowing container clutched to his chest.

"All done then, angel? Can we finally get out of here?" He wasn't going to tell his angel that being around his former creation was making him ache for what he'd once been. He already knew his angel knew him better than any other being in all Creation. There was no point highlighting the fact he'd been as much to blame for their six months apart as Aziraphale had.

"Yes, alright." Aziraphale's voice was quiet with understanding and acceptance, just as it always had been. Did it make him weak that he wanted to cling onto both so fervently, Crowley wondered.

Pondering his own unexplored feelings -- after all, he'd spent six months hiding from them in whatever bottle of alcohol he could get his hands on -- Crowley followed his angel silently as they returned the way they'd come. He was barely aware of the motion of his own feet, until Aziraphale came to an abrupt halt, jerking Crowley's attention back to his surroundings before he stumbled into his angel. They were back at the glow-y globe thing.

He blinked. Had he been lost in thought all that way? That was unlike him. Still... He sighed. "What've you got planned, angel?"

"Remember the portal in my bookshop?"

"Beneath the carpet? Yeah. What of it?"

Aziraphale looked utterly pleased with himself. "I thought I might use it."

"For wot?"

"To give our dear Madame Tracy a little boost in celestial power, for fighting Hell."

Crowley blinked at him. Was Aziraphale serious? "How, exactly?"

Aziraphale brandished the container of starlight. "With this."

Crowley's gaze narrowed thoughtfully on the container. "How do you know it won't kill her, instead?"

His angel tsk-ed at him. "I told you, I've been working on a plan. According to the Heavenly archives, it is possible to gift a receptive human vessel with Divine power, to do great works in times of terrible trials. It must be someone highly in tune with the spiritual realm."

"And we know she is because..."

"She's already been possessed by an angelic being." Aziraphale returned smugly.

"She's what?" Saraqael was looking between them as if trying to decipher one of those complex foreign films without subtitles. Not that it was very difficult for a being that spoke every language on the planet, but sometimes the nuance was lost, despite knowing the language.

"Yeah, Aziraphale here took the old girl for a ride to Tadfield, a few years back." Crowley flashed Saraqael a sly grin.

"Wicked awesome," Adam piped up. "Wondered about that."

"Yes, yes. Anyway, the point is, she's a far more receptive vessel to Divine energy than she knows." Aziraphale turned toward the globe. "Now, I just need to fine tune this in, and hope she hasn't stepped outside the shop, yet."

Crowley moved to peer over his shoulder, drawing in a breath of Aziraphale's comfortingly familiar scent in the process. He'd never admit how much he needed at least that much contact to reassure him, now they were here in Heaven. "How do you plan to get it in her, exactly?"

"I already told you. I thought I might use the portal."

"Got that part. But doesn't she have to be in the portal, with it active, to send anything like that?"

A small frown creased Aziraphale's brow. "To be honest, I don't know."

"Can you even activate the portal from this side, angel?"

"I don't know that, either." Aziraphale looked his way, a hint of worry but the familiar spark of excitement back in his blue eyes. "But we're about to find out."

Crowley chuckled to himself. Here they were, facing imminent Heavenly peril, and he was going all gooey inside just watching his angel's innocent -- albeit inappropriately timed -- sense of wonder return. He'd missed that spark.

Aziraphale gingerly tapped the glowing globe, spreading his fingers outward to bring first England and then London into view. One more swipe, and they were looking down at the bookshop. It looked so tiny from here. Crowley pushed his shades down his nose with one finger, to peer over the top of them at the image, fascinated in spite of himself.

"Now there's a bloody brilliant trick, angel. What now?"

Aziraphale glanced over at him. "I'm afraid I have no idea."

"You've been the Supreme Archangel of all Heaven for six bloody months, angel. You came up with this entire plan to stop the Second Coming. What the Heaven do you mean, you don't know?"

Aziraphale glanced away. "Michael... Well, and the Metatron. They didn't want me using it, yet. They thought I... might have second thoughts."

Crowley cocked one eyebrow, even as he felt the bubbling churn of hellfire stirring inside him. "Second thoughts..."

"About us."

The churning edged toward a full-on cyclone of hellfire, rising through him in protective rage. This wasn't the time for deep, personal conversations, but Crowley promised himself he'd get the answers he wanted from his angel, later. Just as soon as this current disaster was over.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance," Saraqael offered, drawing both their attention to the other angel in the room.

"Oh, that would be marvelous," Aziraphale noted with a happy smile, before informing Crowley, "No one knows how to use this thing as well as Saraqael."

"Right," the other angel put in. "Now move aside and tell me who you want to send that starlight to."

As Aziraphale began describing Madame Tracy to Saraqael, Crowley turned toward the open space around them, his gaze narrowing and a hiss winding its way through him. They weren't alone. He sensed varying degrees of curiosity, hostility, and downright malice closing in on them. He couldn't see it, yet, but it was getting closer by the moment.

"Better hurry it up, angel," he hissed to Aziraphale. "We're about to be too busy to send anything anywhere."

"There!" Saraqael let out a triumphant cry. "That's done it!"

"And not a moment to spare," Aziraphale agreed with a glance Crowley's way the demon read immediately. Their human companions and Muriel were about to be attacked, and this time, no embassy barriers were going to keep Hell -- or their no doubt thousands of zombified human agents -- out.

"We've got our own problems, angel," he told Aziraphale, unable to keep the edge of worry out of his voice as the Host of Heaven started materializing around them, led by the lesser Cherubim and Principalities, with the Archangels -- those cowards, Crowley hissed to himself -- hanging in the back.

"I've got this," Aziraphale murmured, and before Crowley could even absorb what he'd said, the angel was out in front with no concern for his own well-being, holding his hands aloft.

"Angel..."

Aziraphale ignored his panicked outburst.

"This is not the will of the Almighty." The angel's voice carried throughout the ivory walls, bounced from pillars like starlight spread in darkness. Crowley could only stare at him, let his gaze lovingly trace every inch of his angel's face and marvel that this beautiful creature could love something as broken and flawed as him. That his angel could forgive him everything he'd ever...

Fuck. All this time... Angel, I'm so sorry. I didn't understand.

"...you have been deceived by the grasping desire for power and control by the Metatron and the Archangels who follow him." Aziraphale's words dragged Crowley's attention back to his surroundings with a suddenness he was surprised didn't leave a snap in its wake. Had his angel known this all along?

They were going to have a serious talk about communication when they got back. Not that Crowley considered himself particularly skilled in that area, but still.

Aziraphale's words drew a murmur from the corps of lower angels, and several edged nearer to their side of the room.

"The Almighty has only ever required us to look up on Her creations with love, forgiveness, and favor," Aziraphale continued, either unaware or uncaring of the murderous glares sent his way from the likes of Uriel and Sandalphon. Crowley's gaze narrowed on the flash of silvery-white suit and chestnut hair disappearing around a corner at the back. Michael. No doubt off to inform the Metatron.

"Wrap it up, angel," he muttered. "Pretty sure trouble's headed our way."

"Who's he talking about, anyway?" Adam asked, glancing between Crowley and Saraqael.

"God, of course." Saraqael looked at him pityingly. "Don't you even know your own Creator?"

"I always thought God was an old man with white hair and a long beard."

Crowley couldn't help chuckling, as he always did whenever he saw a human depiction of God. To Saraqael he muttered, "'Sides, She didn't create him. Satan did."

The expression on Saraqael's face was priceless as they realized just who they helped smuggle into Heaven.

As an entire Choir of lesser angels broke free of the ranks and hurriedly fell into ranks behind them -- Crowley wasn't quite sure how he felt about that occurrence -- a voice boomed through the room, freezing everyone in place. "You dare to defy the Word of God?"

Crowley tensed, a serpentine hiss rolling from him, even as Aziraphale drew himself up and responded, "In Heaven, the Almighty can surely speak for Herself. Why are you interfering? If you truly speak for God, why are you siding with those who seek to destroy Her Creation?"

"It is not our place to question Almighty God. It is our place to do what has been written, that the End Times be observed and carried out as is the Divine Plan," Michael sneered, pushing through the lower Cherubim, shining sword awash in silver flames in one hand.

"And how do you know it's Her plan?" Aziraphale countered. "Because the Metatron told you it was? Or because the Almighty Herself whispered it in your ear?"

"The Metatron is the Voice of God. Who speaks to the Metatron speaks to God." Michael parroted the line well.

"Are you lot still recycling that dull old tripe?" Crowley interjected, scorn dripping from each word. "No wonder nothing ever gets done."

Michael now stood at the front of the opposing Army of Heaven, Uriel and Sandalphon flanking either side and all brandishing Heavenly weapons no doubt washed a precise number of times in the holiest of holy water.

"This is what you bring against the might of Heaven?" Michael sneered back. "A demon, a traitor, a mortal child, some... creature, and a group of brainless twits who are too easily swayed for their own good? You'll fall, just like his lot did." Michael jerked their head toward Crowley.

Raising their sword above their head, Michael let out a battle cry that flew with the speed of Heavenly trumpets, and lunged forward -- not for Aziraphale, thank Whoever might be listening just now -- but for Saraqael, who instantly miracled in a shield of blinding light, deflecting the blow.

Crowley turned his attention to Uriel as the Archangel rushed at him, brandishing a sword glowing with bright blue flames. Snapping his fingers, Crowley summoned lightning and gleefully watched Uriel light up from the inside, convulsing in the burst of electric energy.

He cast his gaze over the battle raging around him. Adam and Dog clearly found whatever Hell-born power they still possessed, bending and warping the fabric of Heaven's reality around themselves to blip in and out, Dog ripping into angelic flesh with what Crowley sensed was complete abandon, only to be whisked away by Adam in the blink before a Heavenly weapon could strike him. Saraqael and the rest of the angels who'd come over to their side fought as if their souls depended on it. They might, at that. And... Crowley allowed himself a momentary breath of relief as he spotted Aziraphale, moving among their side with a familiar grace, tending to the injured with healing miracles. Without his own flaming sword -- given up to humanity so very long ago -- Aziraphale was left defenseless, but obviously very capable--

A cry, to Crowley's right, dragged his attention that way even as he closed clawed fingers around Uriel's throat, squeezing with wild abandon as he recalled the Archangel's part in the attempt to forever end Aziraphale's existence not once, but twice. Saraqael was down, their shield broken, as Sandalphon stood over them, a maniacal grin flashing on his face as he raised his own sword.

Free hand outstretched, ignoring the angel grasping ineffectively at his arm, Crowley made a sweeping motion, sending Sandalphon soaring backward into a ivory pillar at the other end of the massive room. He grinned in delight as he heard the crunch of Sandalphon hitting the pillar, then the squeal of bloody body sliding to the floor. His grip tightened around Uriel's throat, and he felt the talons of his fingertips stretching out, pressing through not just flesh and blood, but into their soul, hellfire flowing outward along the tips of his fingers.

Uriel screamed, and Crowley dropped them just as they burst into flame, dropping to the floor in a fluttering pile of ash.

He turned to look for Aziraphale again. There he was, bent over Saraqael, tending their wounds. Crowley caught a flash of light, turned just in time to see Michael -- that sneaky, bloody bastard! -- heading toward Aziraphale's unprotected back, sword at the ready.

Crowley leapt into action, his dark wings unfurling as he dove toward his angel, intent on protecting the only thing in the entirety of Creation that gave his miserable life meaning. Even if it meant taking the blow meant for his angel. "Aziraphale!"

******

He'd heard Saraqael's cry for help, seen Crowley deal with Sandalphon, but knew instantly the other Archangel was seriously injured. They'd probably been fighting injured for some time, now.

Making his way across the space to their side, he dropped down to his knees. He was weary -- angelic wounds were so much more difficult to treat than human ones, even when inflicted upon other angels -- but he focused on Saraqael, determined to see to the worst of their injuries, at least. This angel had stood faithfully alongside him since his arrival in Heaven and had even been willing to say a kind word or two about Crowley, if only to him.

Every bit counted.

Focusing on the worst of Saraqael's wounds, he wove the intricate miracle needed to stem the flow of their incorporeal self from their corporeal being. Beads of sweat broke out on his brow, and he pushed through the waning of his angelic power. He'd been weakened, being in Heaven and apart from Crowley for so long.

He didn't have time to think about that. He needed to focus on Saraqael's injury...

"Aziraphale!" Before he could turn from where he knelt at the sound of Crowley's voice, Aziraphale felt the whoosh of air moving over him, then the soft brush of a wingtip, followed by the sound of hand-to-hand combat.

Finishing his task, he helped Saraqael back into their chair with a murmured, "There now. You've done marvelous. Best you go find somewhere away from here, to finish healing, now."

As Saraqael sped off to hopefully do as he said, Aziraphale turned, and a horrified gasp flew from him to find Crowley and Michael grappling over Michael's shimmering sword, rippling with silver flames, where the latter held it aloft. For the first time in millennia, Aziraphale heartily wished he had not given away his own sword, that he might have given it to Crowley, now.

"Get out of here, angel," Crowley gritted through his clenched teeth, his midnight wings flicking toward Aziraphale in a shooing motion, even as he glared at Michael with hellfire flickering over his now scaled skin and blood -- Aziraphale prayed it wasn't Crowley's own -- dripping down his arms. "Get Adam, Saraqael, and as many of the others as you can, and get to safety."

As he scrambled to comply, unwilling to be the cause of Crowley splitting his focus when up against such a strong opponent, he knew what Crowley intended to do. Rushing to Adam's side, he plucked the boy out of the midst of bending space with a grab of his arm and scooped up the dog, rushing them both toward the lift, where Saraqael already waited, fresh shield up in front of them.

"On the lift," Aziraphale huffed, weariness rising within him by the moment. He couldn't wait until this was over and he could go back to his quiet, peaceful life in the bookshop, with Crowley. He really wasn't built for war -- never had been. "Don't hit any buttons. Just close the doors and stay there until I tell you it's safe to come out."

Saraqael nodded, nudging a protesting Adam along. Aziraphale waited until the doors were firmly closed, then sent a thought to all the Principalities and lesser angels. If you don't wish to die horribly, go quickly to the starlight chamber. It may be the only place in all of Heaven safe for you.

As angels all around the hall dropped their weapons and took wing to follow his command, Aziraphale unfurled his own wings and flew straight toward where Crowley and Michael grappled.

"I... know... who... you... are!" Michael fought against Crowley's grip, though it looked like the demon was winning.

"Then you know how stupid you are right now," Crowley quipped back through gritted teeth. He released one hand from its grip on Michael's arm, and Aziraphale heard the hiss escape Crowley as Michael jerked away, spun, and the blade cut into Crowley's right side.

"No!" Aziraphale streaked toward them, pulling up short just seconds before the hellfire exploding from Crowley's hands rushed through the hall, and an entire Host of Heaven screamed in angelic voices. From his vantage point in the air above, Aziraphale saw the flame reach out to snare the Metatron, wrapping its way up around him like a snake intent on its prey, until his form was engulfed.

As the flames extinguished, all that remained were the flutter of ashes and, in their midst, Crowley, flat out, face-down on the floor.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale dropped instantly from the air to his demon's side, reaching out to roll Crowley over, not even caring that the heat remaining from the hellfire still racing along Crowley's skin singed his hands. "Anthony! Please, please, you can't die on me!"

"Raphael."

The soft, feminine voice rang through the now-empty hall of Heaven and he recognized it immediately, though it had been millennia since he had heard it with his own ears.

"Raphael. Arise."

"No," he defied, uncaring his defiance was in the face of his Creator, or what it might mean for him, even as he fought to miracle away the wound -- such a small thing, but so capable of destruction -- in Crowley's side. His celestial energy sparked against Crowley's exposed, blood-covered flesh, useless. He couldn't heal a demon whose body still ran with hellfire -- a demon who could die with the holy water slowly eating away at his wound.

He didn't care. He would do this if he had to die himself to achieve it. He wouldn't abandon Crowley. Not ever again.

If he could just get Crowley back to Earth, he could wash away the holy water. Then maybe Crowley could heal himself.

Instant hope danced through Aziraphale, and he glared up at the air shimmering around him. If God tried to prevent him from reaching that lift...

"Cast me out and let me fall, if winning wars with Hell is more important to You than all Your Creations. Crowley is more important to me than whether or not I remain an angel. No matter what happens to me, I will heal him. He's never known a single moment's mercy or love that didn't come from me. He's never known justice or truth, because he was cast out for asking questions. No matter what You do to me, he'll always know mercy, love, and truth from me. I'll heal him with the last breath I have, if I must." Aziraphale leaned over Crowley, his wings spreading wide to shield the demon from any further attack as he took Crowley's head between his hands and leaned closer, until his forehead pressed to Crowley's, and whispered, "I'm here, my love. Feel my heartbeat. Take what you need from me to heal. Nothing in all of Creation matters more to me than you do. You are my perfect, Anthony J. Crowley, just as you are, and I cannot abide a world in which you don't lsurvive."

"Raphael. My beloved son, you needn't ever fear falling." God's voice echoed quietly through the hall. "It has never been My will for you to be anywhere but at his side. Long before the universe was born, I created you both from the same first breath and whisper of starlight, to always be side-by-side, one heart divided between two forms, that you would know each other by your nearness.

"I gave you the power to save him before you even knew him. He has always been blessed by Me -- my beloved Baraquiel, tender always to My Creation -- and it was not by My will he was cast out, but by his own desire to defend what I could not from the vengeance of Lucifer and his armies.

"Who sent you to Earth in the beginning, and kept you there so long? Who made you of pure love and forgiveness? For as long as he knew your companionship and love, Satan could never truly have him.

"Baraquiel was made to protect you and all of humanity, just as you were created to heal him and lead My Creation to safety against those of both Heaven and Hell who meant it harm."

"Why didn't You stop them, then? You could have stopped all this!" Aziraphale screamed angrily, in a fury that would have mortified him, had he been in his right mind. With Crowley injured, his right mind had deserted him and all he craved were answers to the horrors he beheld -- to the terror of watching the only being he could not see the world, or eternity, without fall to Michael's holy blade.

God's chuckle flowed over him like soft starlight. "You have become so like him. So many questions, Raphael. But you know as well as I that I could no longer reach those of Heaven you fought here. They followed the will of My once-voice, rather than My own. I began granting Baraquiel visions of what must happen, back before the Antichrist's arrival on Earth, that he would lead you to help make My Heaven anew. I did not know the Metatron would attempt to thwart My will by removing you from Earth. There are some things even I cannot see before they happen, My beloved child. You and Baraquiel are both forever my Emissaries to the Creation you were so willing to sacrifice yourselves to save."

The words of the Almighty's approval flowed over Aziraphale, but he barely heard them, his entire attention focused on Crowley. For the first time, he understood his own little piece of God's ineffable plan, and why no matter how he tried over the millennia, he could not resist the pull toward the demon laying sheltered beneath his wings.

Pure love blazed from Aziraphale, lighting up the halls of Heaven and bringing those angels who had fled to safety in the starlight chamber to their knees, weeping.

"He doesn't want to be an angel. Don't make him be something he doesn't want to be," Aziraphale begged, paying the weeping angels no mind as he plead for the demon before him -- plead what he should have seen all along and was blinded to by his own need to show the cosmos Crowley's good heart. "Please, don't make him be what he doesn't want to be. Let him choose, as I have. He's beautiful just as he is."

His attention stayed on Crowley as the demon coughed, and his beautiful golden eyes opened, like two suns shining in the inky darkness of the cosmos.

"A-Aziraphale? What's... What happened?" Crowley's voice was shaky, and Aziraphale could feel the pain coming off him in waves, his corporeal form -- and even worse, his very spiritual essence -- still crackling beneath the touch of the holy water from Michael's blade.

"I very much believe we won, my love," Aziraphale answered sweetly. "Can you stand? I need to get you back to Earth, so I can treat your wounds."

"Good on us," Crowley muttered, his voice slurring slightly, his eyes drifting shut, before they popped open again. "Why the bloody Heaven does my side hurt? Feel like the bloody Witch of the West... that's a thing, yeah?"

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale heaved a sigh somewhere between besotted and annoyed. "Can you stand?"

"'Course I can bloody stand." Crowley muttered, lifting himself to his elbows before he hissed in pain and slumped back to the floor. "Guess not. You'll have to help me up, angel."

"Come on, then." Aziraphale carefully folded his wings back in, looking over to find Adam by the globe, studying it in rapt fascination. Did the child have no sense of self-preservation? "Adam, please take Dog and go back to the lift. Crowley and I will be directly behind you."

"Not going there," Crowley muttered, clearly muddled by pain. Or maybe the effects of the holy water.

Shifting to Crowley's left side, Aziraphale gently looped Crowley's arm over his shoulder while lifting him carefully from the floor. Crowley groaned, but actively helped the process by steadying himself with his free hand, then shifting around to move slowly to his knees, then his feet, all with Aziraphale's steadying arm at his back.

Finally on his feet, Crowley groaned and leaned heavily into Aziraphale's side for a moment, before, "Right. I think I can manage this, with your help, angel."

"Of course." Aziraphale tightened his grip on Crowley's right hip, just below the angry, crackling slice in his side, and led his injured demon toward the lift back to Earth. Hopefully, their compatriots on Earth had met with equal success. Crowley certainly wasn't up to facing the Legions of the Damned. Whatever happened from here, it was Aziraphale's turn to rescue Crowley. He didn't intend to fail.

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