Leftfics

The thing is, he should’ve expected it. Aziraphale’s not actually stupid, even if his magic tricks are. He can read Crowley as easily as any one of his books; he can see Crowley where he hides behind his sunglasses. 

And Aziraphale doesn’t love by halves. 

There is a blanket on the sofa in the back room and a potted fern by the register out front. There is a rather particular blend of earl grey in the cupboards and a coffee cup with a devil’s tail handle on the rack by the sink. The daily crossword is on the table, left out for Crowley to find, and although Crowley knows Aziraphale will have already done it once this morning, he’s miracled the answers away and instead written into the boxes: GOOD MORNING.

Crowley is sure there would be a little heart drawn in next to it if Aziraphale thought Crowley wouldn’t find it incredibly twee. Crowley picks up a pen–not a pencil–and fills the heart in himself. I love you, he thinks, shading it in, permanently. 

If he ever finds a note without a heart on it again, he’ll be surprised. But he’ll never quite be used to it. 

He fell in love with Aziraphale’s heart, with Aziraphale’s courage, with Aziraphale’s kindness. He fell in love with the way Aziraphale acted on impulse, the way he embraced recklessness and pretended like he didn’t. He fell in love with the elegantly manicured hands and the outdated jacket and even the stupid magic tricks, but Crowley never dared to think that Aziraphale would direct all that affection and all that joy and all that love onto him.

Maybe he wouldn’t have, in another universe. In this one, though, Aziraphale is free, and he loves like it. 

Crowley should’ve expected that Aziraphale would love him in exactly the way that he loves Aziraphale. 

A throat clears behind Crowley; he turns to see Aziraphale standing in the door, worn waistcoat, familiar smile. “Morning,” Aziraphale says. “Sleep good?”

“Yeah,” Crowley says, mouth dry. 

“Good,” Aziraphale says, his smile widening, and then he’s off like a shot, making tea, telling Crowley about a book dealer he’s meeting later to see about a supposed Shakespearean folio, about a customer who’d come in looking for the shop next door again and wasn’t it a bit obvious that this wasn’t that sort of shop, about how he had a craving for gnocchi and if Crowley wouldn’t mind perhaps they could go out later and scrub up something, maybe that little place over on Marylebone Road that had the gorgonzola chicken Crowley liked so much that one time, and Crowley soaks it all in, soaks Aziraphale all in, all the curiosities and the interests, all the ways Aziraphale says we and us, all the ways it’s so easy for Aziraphale to wrap himself around Crowley, to give of himself to Crowley, to let Crowley in, to make space for him.  

Aziraphale hands Crowley’s mug to him and kisses the corner of his mouth. “You all right?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Crowley says, coming back to himself a little. He leans over and kisses Aziraphale properly, slow and careful; Aziraphale tastes like tea and sugar. “Yeah, I’m all right. Perfect, even. Brilliant.”

Aziraphale grins. “We’ve got to leave by ten if we want to meet this book dealer on time. Don’t take too long getting ready.” And then he kisses Crowley one last time and goes back down to the shop. 

Crowley constantly feels like he’s falling in love all over again; he constantly feels like Aziraphale is falling in love with him all over again. It feels like delicate spring shoots and brilliant pink and gold sunrises and warm cups of tea, like being taken care of and being wanted and being held close in the depths of the night. 

It feels like reaching out for six thousand years, and finally finding the hand in the dark. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it. 

(Symbrock, domestic fluff)

Also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16669789

—

Eddie! Wake Up!

Jerking awake from what felt like the first sound sleep he’d had in years, Eddie sat up quickly at Venom’s voice shouting in his ear. Instinct had him beginning the slide out of bed, ready to meet or flee whatever the threat was even as he demanded, “What? Where?”

No, don’t move! Venom said, locking down his muscles.

Frozen in place, Eddie flicked his eyes wildly around the small room, while his still more than half asleep brain kept repeating, “Oh, god. Oh, god. If we move the T-Rex will see us.”

Venom, of course easily picked up on his panicked thought and it was with equal parts confusion and scorn that he replied, What? No, we aren’t under attack, but if you move you are going to spill your breakfast.

“Huh? Aren’t we under attack?”

No. I just told you so, stupid. What is a T-Rex?

Taking a steadying breath, Eddie started pushing the cobwebs of fear back into the corners of his mind. “Tell you what, starshine, give me control of my body back and I’ll show you.”

Deal! Venom said, radiating a spike of pleasure at the silly nickname.

Eddie knew it was one of his favorite things to be called, though Eddie tended to only use it occasionally, usually in the morning. He wasn’t sure why that was exactly, but he liked how it made the name feel special to them both.

Now, Eddie felt all this muscles relax, and, using his newly returned arm control, he rubbed at bleary eyes while he purposefully recalled the highlights of Jurassic Park for Venom to see.

Those look like fun! We should find one and fight it! Or possibly ride it.

“No, sorry, love. They all died off millions of years ago.”

Venom cocked his head to one side, looking curious. Then why did you think one was attacking you?

“Well, because that movie scared the crap out of me when I first saw it. I still have nightmares occasionally, particularly if someone has yelled me awake…”

Pussy. I just didn’t want your breakfast to get cold.

“Yeah, about that…” Eddie said.

While they had been talking he’d looked over the erstwhile laptop tray that was now positioned over his legs, laden with food. The offerings ranged wildly, including an unsurprising plate piled high with tater tots, a mixing bowl full of cereal already going soggy in the chocolate milk Venom loved, scrambled eggs, toast, two slices of leftover pizza, and even an orange and a cup of coffee-Eddie’s preferred breakfast. He was touched to see them, because he knew Venom loathed fruit and disliked coffee.

Picking up the still hot mug, he asked, “What’s the occasion?”

Do I need an occasion?

“No, I guess not. But people usually have one when they’re being nice to you. Either they want something or they feel like they owe you for some reason.”

But you are nice to people. You protect them and help them and bring them justice and don’t even let me eat them much.

“Yeah, well. You don’t see me making them breakfast in bed do you?”

But you would because you are good.

Venom said it with such complete conviction that Eddie didn’t have the heart to contradict him. Instead, he nodded at the tray and said, “Yeah, but not one as diverse as this.”

Venom beamed. We made all our favorites!

“I can see that, love. There is a lot of food here, I’m probably gonna need help eating all of it.”

But we made it for you!

“Yeah, but I’d enjoy sharing it with the love of my life.”

So you want to eat with alcohol and bad choices?

Eddie sputtered on the sip of coffee he’d been taking and demanded, “What?!”

Well, that is what Anne thought. If Venom had being trying to sound innocent, he failed miserably.

“Maybe she’s right. I mean, I don’t think the real love of my life would go around repeating stuff like that. I probably should eat this delicious breakfast all by myself.”

But, I was just kidding! Venom exclaimed, his eyes looking not at Eddie’s theatrically sad expression but at the pile of tater tots. Only kidding. My Eddie is perfect.

“Perfect, huh?”

Yes. Even though he is a loser, he is perfect for us. Always.

Eddie smiled and leaned forward to kiss the black face hovering a few inches from his own. “Well, I guess I can’t ask for more than that.”

Another quick kiss had Venom purring pleasantly and Eddie reached towards the plate of tater tots even as he said, “So, love, I’m guessing you want to start with the orange, right?”

Eddie laughed at the narrow-eyed look of disdain Venom shot him even as he held up a tot in offering. The laugh turned into a yelp as Venom snapped the morsel out of his fingers with a little more tooth than necessary. “Hey!”

His voice more smug than contrite, Venom said, Oh, sorry Eddie. Want me to kiss it better?

The thought of a long, prehensile tongue running over and around his fingers in Venom’s equivalent of a kiss was very tempting, but would likely lead to him eating a cold and even more soggy breakfast later.

“Nah, let’s eat this wonderful breakfast. But afterwards…” Eddie said, trailing off into a leer.

Venom grinned back.

I have been thinking about this since I got into Venom.

Instead of being all “what are you looking at” or “I’m just hallucinating but I’m okay” and drawing attention to himself especially when he is already wanted by police and other villains. He could easily just get a earpiece and people wouldn’t look twice at him!!!

———

He ducks into the door of the grimy little second-hand electronics store like he’s totally not there to steal anything – which he’s not – and catches the bored look the girl behind the counter gives him. The place is empty and after giving him an unimpressed once-over, the girl just snaps her gum and turns back to the textbook in her lap. She ignores him entirely after that, and he feels a little better. She’s wearing headphones, and although the music is not blaring loud enough for him to hear it, it is likely loud enough that she won’t hear when Eddie starts talking to himself.

Well, sort to himself.

We can eat her, if she causes trouble, the symbiote suggests.

“No, we cannot,” Eddie says firmly, muttering under his breath anyway. He’s been getting too many weird looks lately for the volume at which he addresses the symbiote. It’s not fair that it gets to yell where no one can hear it and Eddie can’t start yelling back without getting arrested.

He scans the rows until he finds the one for cell phone accessories, and dives down it, casting a glance around until he finds what he’s looking for: bluetooth ear pieces. He can feel the symbiote beneath his skin, behind his eyes, watching as he scoops up the biggest one he can find, the most obvious one, and then his body jerks to a stop against his will.

What is that, Eddie?

Eddie contains a groan and only pushes back against the symbiote’s control for a second before relaxing. “It’s a bluetooth,” he says. “People wear ‘em to talk to each other on the phone, without using their hands. It’ll make it easier to talk to you.”

We can find no flaws in your vocal cords. It should not be not difficult to speak to us.

“Not that kind of difficult,” Eddie tells it. “Other people can’t hear you, so it looks like I’m talking to myself, which is not normal for humans to do. People look at you for doing it, and we don’t need people lookin’ at us right now.”

A warm, pleasant sensation tingles down Eddie’s spine at his use of the word us, the sort of tingle that makes him want to do it again. This device will render us invisible while we are speaking?

“No!” Eddie says, exasperated. “If we wear this, then it won’t be suspicious for me to talk to you.”

A delicate tendril spills from Eddie’s wrist and Eddie quickly straightens up and turns completely away from the front counter so the clerk can’t see when the symbiote thoroughly investigates the small device. Eddie’s heart stays in his throat the entire time the symbiote is visible, certainly from fear of being caught but also, he realizes as he fights against the instinct to shield the tendril with his other hand, from fear of someone finding the symbiote still alive. It had only just regained the strength to start talking to him again. He doesn’t want to lose that.

You do not need this, it declares, sinking back into his skin and disappearing from sight.

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, but the vague tingle by his ear has him reaching up to touch. What he finds is a silky-soft replica of a bluetooth earpiece, almost identical to the one in his hands, but made entirely of symbiote. Eddie lets out a breathless little laugh, wondering what else it could replicate.

You have us, Eddie. We can be what you need, the symbiote tells him.

Eddie is a loved dumb bitch ❤️

Title: In these shoes?

Fandom: Red vs Blue

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Locus/Wash

Warnings: Lots of kinky sex. Dirty talk. D/s. Boot worship. 

Notes: Thanks to the wonderful @birdsbeesandlemonadetrees for betaing!

Summary: Seeing Locus’ boots by the door every day, is a comforting reminder to Wash that life goes on and that someone would notice if he didn’t leave the apartment for weeks at a time. But his interest might go a little further than just reassurance. It would be easier if he didn’t have it bad for his roommate.

Post-military AU.

Locus keeps his boots, heavy black leather combat boots, next to the door, at a precise ninety degree angle to the wall. It’s ridiculously anal and very reassuring because Wash still does the same thing, even if he’s switched to wearing trainers more often than not. They’re still there, perfectly aligned next to the door because some habits don’t break easily.

Seeing the boots there every day is a neat reminder that there’s also milk in the fridge and laundry being done and that someone would notice if he stopped eating and opening the curtains and leaving the flat at some point before his friends needed to physically drag him outside and stage an intervention.

“Eddie?” Venom asked, manifesting just off of his chest. “What’s wrong?” Venom squinted, their teeth glinting in the gentle light of dawn. Their tongue snuck out to press against his cheekbone, something that usually gained the symbiote at least a tired smile, but Eddie barely moved, his eyes looking sunken.

“I’m just tired, Ven,” he said, his voice low.

“Do not lie to us, Eddie.” There was a hiss hidden in Venom’s voice, their face getting almost dangerously close to his before abruptly receding into his ribcage. Eddie closed his eyes and took a slow breath.

Sit up. You can do it. Come on. He kept breathing, and he kept focusing, but he just couldn’t force himself to move. He could feel Venom shifting under his skin, then a moment later, could hear their voice.

“You are sad,” they purred, scratchy and somber. “Why? Is it us?”

Eddie was quick to defend himself, though it took a good chunk of his energy. “No, no, Ven. I just get like this sometimes.” Warmth sprouted from between his shoulder blades and wrapped slowly around his chest, similar to when Venom took over completely but a lot tighter. It took a long time, as Venom crept down Eddie’s abdomen, for him to realize that he was being hugged.

“What do we need?” Venom asked, their voice smooth in Eddie’s ear.

“To take medicine.” He could tell that Venom grimaced at the mention of medication, but a thin tendril snaked out to his bedside table. It wrapped around his medicine and pulled back, somehow opening it on the way. The medium sized pill dropped into his hand and Eddie thanked Venom before dropping it into his mouth. “Thank you, Ven.” He wondered if Venom would be willing to move his body when he couldn’t do it himself, but settled with bringing it up at another time.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Eddie grumbled.

Because you like me, Venom said, annoyingly smug.

“I’m starting to reconsider that, you know.”

Lies.

The theatre was nearly empty when they went in. It wasn’t even an action movie, it was some shitty romcom Anne had expressly told him not to bother with. But Venom had wanted to go to the movies, and he’d wanted to pick the movie they saw, and lately he was interested in the trappings of human relationships enough that he wanted to watch shitty romcoms. Even though Eddie tried to explain to him that romcoms weren’t realistic at all.

Here they were.

The movie was boring enough that Eddie checked out mentally about five minutes in, letting Venom take over and settling in for a nap. Venom was watching with rapt attention.

About halfway through—approximately, anyway—he felt Venom shift and curl out. A couple seconds later, a tendril nudged at his hand.

Eddie blinked down at it. “Are you trying to make a hand?” he demanded.

Maybe so.

“Jesus,” Eddie muttered. But he curled his hands around the tendril anyway, watching black threads seep between his fingers to resolve into a more hand-like shape.

What a fun suggestion! 

I wrote a short drabble based on your suggestion below based on movie!verse Eddie and Venom :3

Requests are: OPEN

Eddie rolled over onto his back for the umpteenth time that night, sighing heavily as he wiped the thin trail of sweat from his brow. It was a warm evening, but that was by no means the only reason he was sweating. He begrudgingly rolled out of bed, moving to the window across his room and sliding it open to let in the cool breeze outside.

He rested his elbows on the window sill as he looked down upon the city far below. He allowed himself another sigh, feeling how his exhaustion weighed down on him and left him struggling to keep his eyes open. Unfortunately, his mind had yet to calm and thoughts still raced alone, keeping him from the welcome bliss of sleep.

The sensation of his other materialising from his back was enough to pull him from his thoughts, and he turned slightly to acknowledge their presence. He could feel their concern radiating through their bond, but he tried to soothe them by gently cupping their soft face. His lover leaned forward, pressing their heads together gently before moving away again to give them room to talk.

“You should be asleep, Eddie,” the voice rumbled, “We have an important meeting tomorrow, you need your rest.” The symbiote began to emerge from Eddie’s back, allowing their body to caress him as they rolled across the tense muscles of his back and shoulders.

“I know,” was all he said in response, turning away from the window to lie back down on the bed again.

His lover hummed softly in thought, shifting so that they now emerged from his chest, “But you’re worried,” they stated, frowning slightly, “Tell me what’s troubling you, Eddie, there are no secrets between us.”

Eddie reached up, his fingers brushing against the rippling, black flesh of his lover as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Everything,” he finally admitted, “What happened with Drake and Riot, trying to get back to a normal life that I’ll never have-”

“We-”

“Yes, sorry, a normal life we’ll never have. Whatever is going to happen now, we have to face alone and… admittedly, that’s pretty damn scary.” His other had remained silent throughout the small rant, seeming to think silently to themselves.

“Do you… regret… us?” Eddie had never heard the symbiote speak so softly, sound so utterly insecure and anxious, and it felt terribly wrong. They refused to make eye contact with him, looking everywhere except at Eddie as they curled in on themselves.

Eddie reached up pulling them close to him before lifting his head to brush his lips against their forehead. “Never, love,” he cooed, smiling fondly as he felt his Other’s relief flooding through his mind. “You are mine and I am yours, you’ve said it yourself,” he added, gently rubbing the side of their face, “No matter what happens next we’ll get through it, together.”

Here have your smute (smut+cute). 

Here’s the end of that dick pic fic, folks, although a little late. The whole thing (with illustrations) will go up on AO3 within the next few days, but I wanted this section here for completeness. This chapter: 4.8k words, violence, language, some mild north/york, and a vast behind-the-scenes freelancer conspiracy to which our poor, dumb bear of a narrator is largely oblivious.

Parts: ONE TWO THREE

Bravo’s just set up their ambush on the shoulder, Wyoming idling ten yards above them perched on a sign structure, when a pair of police vehicles flood in from an off-ramp and form a barricade across the highway. 

7,000+ words worth of North in lacy underwear and York losing his shit over it. Due entirely to THIS gifset.

Also contains: York snooping, Delta being a dick, Ignorant Dude Opinions, and Freelancers embarrassing each other in bars.

Merry fucking Christmas, you degenerates.

MARTI I HAVE ALMOST THE WHOLE OF CH 7 DONE AND HAVE BEEN SITTING ON IT BUT I WILL POST A SCENE FROM IT JUST FOR YOU BECAUSE I KEEP PROMISING AND NEVER COME THRU

Locus hadn’t seen Wash for a long time. He’d said over text that he had changed, and Locus believed him when a cute young man with dyed hair came up to him and greeted him with a familiarity that was odd.

“It’s you.” He said, breathing in deeply, brows furrowed.

Pairings: Murder Sandwich (Felix/Locus/Wash), mentions of Sister/Tucker

Word Count: 1,706

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex

Summary: Prompt: Murder sandwich college AU! Where they’re all friends with benefits

Notes: Oh my God, I really loved writing this!

Pairings: Murder Sandwich

Word Count: 2,914

Warnings: Swearing, kidnapping

Summary: Washington looked down at his phone as he waited impatiently in line. Locus would be getting off of work in ten minutes and they had had plans, but now it looked like Wash would be standing in line at the back for the rest of the evening.

Notes: Based off of this post! Happy season 12 finale!