#//he's a dark angel this time! which is kind of funny because this is what his second year going as something with feathers?

[mechahero]

//There's still some time to go but here's Lambda's Halloween costume this year! 🎃🎃

[crushmeeren]

Warnings; Female Reader, Female Anatomy Used, Kissing, Pussy Eating, Vaginal Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex (Double Penetration 😏), Dirty Talk, Praising, Cream Pies! Generally just fluffy and smutty, my personal favorite combo.

Note; Well here it is, my Crowley/Reader/Aziraphae one shot. It’s written with a female bodied reader because I’m female and that’s what I know best. I loved writing this. Once again it became very long and I could not stop the train. Hope everyone who wanted this enjoys it.

AO3 Link; The Devils Hour😈

Word Count; 7.5k

If anyone would like me to write Gender Neutral or Male Reader One Shots, let me know! I would love to do that!☺️

It’s 3 am. You notice after glancing at the red numbers on the digital clock currently sitting on your nightstand. It’s the devils hour. Which is kind of funny considering you’re missing the actual demon that usually occupies part of the bed. It’s completely dark in your shared room, the only other light is from the moon peaking through the curtains, letting you see occasional shapes as you look around the room. You hear the sounds of cars driving down your road once in awhile, and you just hope it’s Crowley, pulling up in his Bentley, Queen music blaring.

You’re halfway laying on your belly and your right side, left leg bent and tucked up beside your waist as you reach out a hand to run it over the soft blanket on the side of the bed that Crowley usually sleeps on. Except right now it’s empty. The blanket feels cool to the touch and it’s unsettling. You grip the blanket tightly, knuckles turning white, before releasing it. The bed’s just too big and it teeters on the line of feeling wrong without Crowley there with you and the Angel.

You start to feel a tug in your chest at the familiar ache of missing the demon. The uncomfortable emotion settles in your heart heavily, sinking into your chest, almost like a lead balloon. It weighs you down and presses you into the mattress a little bit more than before. As you lay there contemplating your misery you hear the blanket rustle behind you and you’re reminded you still have your sweet Angel in the bed with you. It makes you feel a tad lighter.

“Angel,” you breathe out, feeling a warm, steady arm wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you closer. Aziraphale curls up against your back, shifting a knee to get between the soft skin of your thighs. Pillowy lips press a kiss into the back of your neck, over a knob in your spine, which he has access to since your hair’s pulled up into a bun.

“Is everything alright my dear? Why are you awake?” Aziraphale questions, voice quiet and raspy with sleep. You scoot back as much as you can into his embrace and rest your hand on the forearm that holds you.

“I miss Crowley, I thought he would be home by now,” you respond, voice thick with emotion, eyes stinging, threatening to fill with tears. You feel as if you’re being a bit over dramatic but who cares, you miss him. You would miss the Angel just the same if he were gone. You pull the soft blanket up over your shoulder, covering you both.

He brings his hand to the bottom of your large T-shirt. It’s some older, worn one Aziraphale never wears anymore. He wants to get closer to you and he slips that hand underneath, fingers rubbing the skin of your belly soothingly this time as he wraps his arm around you even tighter in comfort.

“I know my love, I miss him too. The old boy is alright. He’ll be home soon. He can’t stay away from us for long, you know that,” Aziraphale says, tone reassuring, nuzzling the back of your head gently. You can feel his warm breath on your neck and it makes you shiver slightly, goosebumps erupting up your arms and legs. An involuntary pulse of arousal makes your pussy clench around nothing. You try to ignore it. Which of course doesn’t work.

“I know, I just, well it’s been awhile since we’ve all been in bed together. I miss being with both of you,” you say shyly, craving the intimacy and pleasure that comes with the three of you having sex together. Missing the way one of them stretches open your pussy as the other presses into your tight arse. The image flashes behind your eyelids and your cheeks burn as your entire body feels too hot. Your pussy clenches again and you squeeze your thighs around the Angels knee for some relief. Aziraphale feels the way you press your pretty little arse into his pelvis, feeling his dick twitch at the sensation.

“Darling,” Aziraphale starts to coo, “You’re missing our demon that badly huh?” he teases, fondly of course, raising up on one elbow to lean forward and press a sweet kiss to the side of your neck.

“Yes.” It comes out as a breathy moan. The Angel hums against your neck. He lets his soft lips trail over your earlobe and whispers in your ear.

“Maybe I can help you feel a little better, my pretty little doll.” You breathe in sharply. You can definitely feel your own heartbeat in your pussy. Warmth pools in your lower belly instantly. The Angel presses his knee a little bit further and puts pressure against your aching clit. Just that little bit of contact feels so good, making your limbs tingle warmly. It makes you crave the loving he’s so gifted at giving.

“Please Angel.” Voice on edge, as you squeeze your bare thighs around the knee he has pushed against your pussy. You rock your hips, grinding your clit onto his knee a couple times, groaning softly. Aziraphale watches your movements, feeling your warm pussy rubbing against his bare leg through your panties, a slightly wet sensation. Your sweet noises reach his ears and his entire body flushes hotly, his cock jumping against your arse, filling out steadily. He can’t help but slip his knee free and roll you onto your back, eager to keep going.

You let him manhandle your body and your head ends up resting on a pillow. You look up at his pretty blue eyes. He bites his bottom lip and helps you bend your legs at the knee, placing your feet on the mattress. You only make one short sound of protest at the loss of his touch and he laughs brightly.

“There, there my love, I’ll be touching your pretty body again shortly,” he says, playfully as he makes his way closer between your thighs, pushing them wide open with his hands on your knees. He decides to shove off the fuzzy blanket that was covering the two of you, it had start to just pool around his waist. It gathers at the end of your bed.

You lick your lips and reach out for Aziraphale with a soft pout on your mouth. You grab a fistful of his shirt and tug him to you. His lips pull into an amused smile and he lets himself be pulled. He rests his elbows on either side of your head, gently relaxing his weight down onto you, and you both groan at the feeling of your chests pressing together. His body crushes you slightly and for some reason it turns you on even more. You can feel his warmth through both your shirts and it makes your nipples harden.

You yearn to kiss him, so you grip his shoulders and pull him down to your mouth. Aziraphales sweet, plump lips slotting against yours perfectly. The Angel makes you feel safe, loved, happy and your kiss conveys all of that. He tilts his head as he moves your lips together slowly, intimately. The kiss starts to feel like heated honey, the sweetness of it soothing some of the bitter ache you both feel missing Crowley.

You moan into his mouth and poke your tongue out to run it against his bottom lip. You hear him whine as he opens his mouth instantly letting you in. You twist your tongue with his for a moment just tasting him before sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. You chomp down, biting it and releasing it with a wet sound. He moans low in his throat.

“Oh, you’re such a little tease aren’t you?” Aziraphale tickles your ribs softly as he leans down to kiss your neck. You let out a happy giggle, pushing at his hands without much force. You let yourself enjoy the feeling of his mouth, melting under his touch in a puddle of warm goo. His hands trail down your sides to the bottom of your shirt. He grips the edge of it and sits back on his calves so he can pull it up and off of you. You sit up a little and let him strip you, tossing it to the side. The cool air hits your chest giving you goosebumps again. As you lay back again, his fingers have already slipped into the waistband of your panties. You let out an accidental laugh.

“You’re so eager Angel,” you say, teasing him. He looks at you and grins, giving you a wink. You bite your lip and tilt your head down to watch him. You decide to be proactive and lift your hips for him. He makes an approving noise as he tugs them down your legs, again tossing them aside carelessly. Aziraphale runs his hands appreciatively over your soft thighs and up your belly. You whimper at the feeling of his warm hands. He smiles at you lovingly and leans forward to nuzzle at the space between your breasts. You feel a sharp pinch, like being stung by a bee and you know he’s sucking a love bite into the skin there. You let out a yelp at the sensation of teeth as your hands shoot up to tangle into his soft, white curls.

“Oh! Oh-hah that feels so good Angel.” Whining as he shifts his head to the left, sucking a nipple into his mouth. Aziraphale wraps his lips around your perky bud and sucks harshly, tongue flicking up and down. A low moan vibrates in your chest and your back arches up into his touch. You’re starting to sweat as your thighs clench around his hips and he presses his pelvis down into your groin. His covered cock spreading the slick folds of your pussy. He releases your nipple with a pop and gasps sharply at the feeling of your warm pussy rubbing against him. He pushes his hips up, grinding against your clit, sending tingles of pleasure and relief up your spine.

“Azi,” you say, whining. You let the last syllable drag out. He knows you’re starting to feel it as you only use that nickname when you’re in bed.He snickers a little bit, moving his hips slowly, letting his cock drag continuously through your folds and against your clit. It’s soaking his briefs.

“Hmm? Is your pretty pussy feeling good my sweet girl?” he whispers, in a way that sounds like he’s teasing but it’s wrapped in a loving tone. Aziraphale doesn’t usually speak so filthily, at least not outside of the bedroom. He pushes through the embarrassment each time because it turns him on so much seeing your sweet reactions to his words.

“Yes! Yes, S’good Azi, want you inside Angel.” Crying out to him, you dig your nails into his forearms. Heavens, that really sets him off. He knows his cock is flushed and hard as steel. He can feel the throb of heated arousal in his groin and how his briefs are sticking lewdly to his leaking tip. He groans your name and leans down to kiss at your collarbone. The feeling makes your eyes flutter closed, tilting your jaw up as you lose yourself in him.

“Well, for hells sake, don’t you two just make the loveliest picture. Couldn’t wait for me to get home huh?” A smooth voice purrs from the open doorway of their room. You and Aziraphale immediately freeze in place at the sound of his voice, breaking apart as you shoot up to sit straight up in the bed and the Angel turns on his knees to face the demon. Crowley flips on the switch to the low light of their room, bathing them all in soft, warm light.

Both of your faces light up like the sun as you recognize the voice belonging to the red head and you’re both scrambling off the bed and shooting towards Crowley. Your foot almost getting caught in the blanket as you tumble off the bed. The demon laughs happily as the two of you wrap your arms around his waist, sandwiching him in between you and the Angel. You not caring you’re completely naked and Aziraphale not caring he’s sporting a raging boner that’s poking Crowley straight in the thigh.

“Miss me did we?” Crowley teases in a smooth voice, as he lets himself be squished, absolutely loving it. Sounding like a cat who doesn’t want to admit he wants affection. The two of them release him as they all smile happily.

“We missed you so much love, I didn’t think you’d be home tonight,” you say, voice full of love, excited now that you are all three together. Crowley slips his glasses off and walks to place them on the side table, shrugging off his jacket and toeing off his shoes.

“I wasn’t sure I’d be home tonight either but I couldn’t stand being away for much longer,” he replies, with a smirk.

“Yeah, that’s what Azi said too,” you comment offhandedly, in a joyful tone of voice. You move to sit on the edge of the bed and Aziraphale walks closer to Crowley, getting in his space. Crowleys eyebrows raise up at the nickname as he looks at you briefly before making eye contact with the smug looking Angel.

“Azi huh? Just how good was the Angel making you feel, you pretty little demon,” he says, with a smirk, knowing you only call the Angel that when you’re in bed, when you’re getting all needy and whiny. When you start to feel so good your words slur and you beg the Angel to pound you. Your cheeks turn a bright pink at his words. Aziraphale speaks before you can.

“Oh dear, I was just getting a little bit of a taste of our girl before you came home. I thought you’d enjoy a bit of a feast when you got here. I had a feeling you’d be home late like this…wanting a late night snack my love,” the Angel says, in a teasing voice, sounding ridiculously seductive. Crowley grins wickedly in return and leans down in Aziraphales face.

“You’re such a good Angel,” Crowley coos, as he leans closer and presses his lips against the Angels. Aziraphale sighs happily and wraps his arms around Crowleys neck, melting into the kiss as their lips move together sensually.

You wiggle where you sit on the edge of the bed, belly heating dangerously as the atmosphere between the three of you charges significantly. Crowley fitting seamlessly into the situation, like he was never even gone. Watching the two of them together is bewitching. The way their lips meet and move together with a slick noise. Crowley tugging Aziraphale forward by his hips. Seeing flashes of their tongues disappear in each others mouths. Your pussy throbs repeatedly and you can’t help but let out a whine, wanting their attention. They break from the kiss but not their position, still glued together. Both of them turning their heads to look at you, faces looking way too smug.

“Feeling left out my love? You’re such a needy little demon.” Teasing you, Aziraphale breaks away from his embrace with Crowley. He walks towards you and stops a few inches away from your spread thighs. You nod and bite your bottom lip. You maintain eye contact with Aziraphale as he hooks his thumbs into his briefs and slowly pushes them down his hips. You then watch as his cock bobs free when the waistband of his briefs catches on it. He pushes the underwear the rest of the way off. You can’t keep your eyes away from his pretty pink cock. Thick, but not too long. You reach out a hand to wrap your fingers around his dick but he grabs your wrist. “Not yet my dear. Let’s wait for Crowley okay?” he says, softly, eyes sparkling with amusement at your eagerness. Your lips turn into a small pout and you nod reluctantly as your eyes glance over to see what the demon is doing.

Crowley took advantage of you being distracted and had busied himself with shedding his clothes, leaving him in his briefs and black tee currently. You bite the inside of your lip while you run your eyes over his lanky figure. You notice the Angel so the same. Crowleys lips tug into a one sided smirk.

“Love,” the Angel calls out, gently, to get your attention. You look up at him once again. “Why don’t we get a better view of our gorgeous boy huh?” he says.

“What do you have in mind?” you question, curiously, wondering what’s running through the Angels brain. He pointedly says nothing as he gets on the bed next to you and crawls to the headboard. He props up a couple pillows against the frame and he turns to lay his back against them, letting his legs fall open as he plants his feet.

“Come sit in my lap love, let’s enjoy a show and watch Crowley get undressed,” Aziraphale says, with a sly smile. Your belly flips eagerly as you nod excitedly and quickly move up the bed. You turn around as well and sit in between his legs. You rest your back against his chest as you recline, you can feel his heart beating steadily. Aziraphale maneuvers you until each of your thighs are resting on the outside of his, spreading your legs and pussy open. He wraps his arms around your waist as you watch Crowley move to the end of the bed, standing by the edge. His eyes roam your spread body. As his serpent eyes make their way to your cunt, he licks his bottom lip, forked tongue flicking out, and he palms his dick through his underwear.

“C’mon Crowley, we wanna see you get naked,” you say, feeling amused. You feel the Angels soft breath on your neck as he chuckles. Crowleys head tilts back as he laughs.

“Eager for me?” he jokes. You both nod and Aziraphale squeezes your waist again and rests the side of his face against yours.

“Yes dear, we’ve missed seeing your body,” Aziraphale says, eagerly. Crowley wiggles his eyebrows and he reaches for the bottom of his shirt and in one movement pulls it off, letting it drop on the ground. You both cheer softly. Crowley laughs and hooks his fingers into his waistband, lingering. “Doesn’t our dear boy look so..enticing?” The Angel whispers in your ear. You shiver and nod. The Angel trails one hand from your waist down your belly slowly. He brushes his fingers through the curly hair on your mound. Your heart rate picks up and you feel liquid heat in your belly as he softly places his pointer and middle finger on your clit. You inhale sharply, legs flexing around the outside of his thighs. Crowley watches the movements of his Angels hand and he bites his bottom lip. You see Crowleys cock fill out completely in his briefs as the Angel starts to rub slow, tiny circles into your clit. You feel Aziraphales cock start to harden again against your back. Your head falls back onto his shoulder and you moan loudly as pleasure smolders through you, straining to keep your eyes open and on Crowley. “Ah, that’s a good girl, keep those pretty eyes on Crowley love,” Aziraphale praises, moving his fingers a little faster. You began to breathe a little heavier, wiggling slightly and Crowley can’t wait anymore. He pushes his briefs off and steps out of them.

You’re letting out soft sounds of pleasure and you reach out a hand for Crowley, making a grabby motion at him. He smiles and makes his way up to you both before sitting on his haunches. He grabs your hand and squeezes your fingers before letting your hand rest against your belly. He makes eye contact with Aziraphale briefly as you watch them have some sort of mental conversation, before Crowley smirks. The Angel slows his fingers down and you make a protesting noise. He stops and slips a finger up and down through your folds, covering it in slick before pulling it away. You cry out, whimpering his nickname. He giggles and whispers in your ear.

“What do you want my pretty little doll?” Shifting in place, you flex your open legs briefly.

“I- I want his mouth,” you mumble softly, eyes glued to the demons lips. You’d been thinking about Crowley eating you out for a week now. It being the star of many of your recent dreams. The other two snicker.

“I can’t hear you dear, can’t you speak up,” Aziraphale says, in a bit of a condescending tone, teasing you and kissing the side of your neck. You burn with embarrassment, but it just turns you on even more.

“Such a whiny little demon, can’t even tell us what she wants. Angel, I think she wants me to eat her pussy.” Crowley grins, letting his tongue flick out again. You feel the Angels dick twitch against your lower back at the words. He loves watching Crowley eat you out.

“Oh yeah?” he giggles. “Do you want Crowley to eat your pretty little pussy love?” You groan loudly, feeling so unbelievably turned on by the filth that leaves their mouths. Aziraphale holds onto your hips and makes a tsk sound, like he’s disappointed before he speaks. “Now my dear, use your words. Tell Crowley you want him to use his wicked mouth to eat your pussy.” Crowley rubs a hand soothingly up and down your thigh.

“Yeah sweetheart, tell me you hearts desire,” Crowley teases, trailing a finger down the crease between your wet heat and your thigh.

“Fuckk, Crowley please, I want you to eat my pussy,” you say with a whine, feeling too hot in your skin, legs tingling from where they’re stretched open. You hear Aziraphale inhale sharply as the words leave your mouth. Crowleys smile can only be described as hungry. He moves onto his belly in between your thighs in a way that can only be described as a slither. Your breath catches as his face gets close to your pussy.

“Good job sweetheart,” he says, breath fanning over your clit. Your hips twitch upwards involuntarily in response. Aziraphale rests his chin on your shoulder and looks down to enjoy the view. Crowley keeps eye contact with you both as he closes the distance and his tongue pokes out to slide between your folds and up to your clit. He licks stripes into your clit, swirling his tongue in a circle.

“Fuck! Crowley, oh god!” you choke out, moaning lowly as swirls his tongue leisurely. Your hands shoot out to tangle in his red hair, tugging tightly. His eyes flutter for a second and he moans against your pussy. You and Aziraphale watch the demon with undivided attention.

“Heavens, this is beautiful. You’re such a good girl, letting Crowley eat your pussy.” Aziraphale says, voice breathless. His arms tighten around your waist and you feel his dick throb. Crowley wraps his lips around your clit and sucks gently, flicking his forked tongue at the same time. Your thighs tense against Aziraphales, wanting to close around the demons head. Your eyes squeeze shut as your head falls back onto the Angels shoulder. A wail tears from your chest.

Crowley digs his nails into your thighs and he starts to make out with your pussy. He rolls your swollen clit over and over between his lips, using his tongue to help push you closer to the edge. Your slick and his saliva coating his lips. You can feel it drip down to your arse and onto the bed. You feel Aziraphales fingers grip your jaw, squeezing and tugging your chin so your head tilts down to watch Crowley.

“Eyes open, my dear. Be good,” Aziraphale coos. You start to pant and force your eyes open to watch the demon devour you. Crowley takes one hand off your thigh and brings it close to your pussy, dragging it through your folds as he sucks on your clit again. He rubs the flat of his tongue up and down your clit in a steady rhythm.You jolt in slight surprise as you feel a miraculously lube covered finger rub circles over your arse hole for a moment, trying to loosen you up.

“S-shit Crowley!” you say, shakily as his finger just glides into your hole smoothly all the way to his last knuckle. The demon sucks gently on your clit to help ease the ache. The Angel brings his hands up to grip your breasts, after letting go of your jaw.

“You think you can take both of us tonight my love?” Aziraphale asks, gently and noses at your jaw. You nod quickly, arse tightening around Crowleys finger and he pops off your pussy for a moment, starting to pump his finger and kissing your clit once more shortly.

“Oh, she likes that Angel,” Crowley purrs, before quickly pulling his finger back and adding a second. He presses them in gently past your rim, then all the way in. You moan at the familiar uncomfortable sensation of you arse stretching to fit his fingers, insides throbbing dully.

“I know she does,” the Angel giggles. Aziraphale brings one hand off your breasts back down to rub circles into your clit again, using the saliva left from Crowleys tongue to make his fingers move smoother. You cry out his name and your hands grip his forearms harshly.

“Azi! Yeah-yes, want you both, need you both at the same time!” The other two moan in unison.

“Fuck, okay, yes, let me stretch you a little bit more okay doll?” Crowley rumbles, Aziraphale moves his fingers a bit quicker on your clit and your pussy clenches around nothing as your tight heat squeezes Crowleys fingers. Aziraphale takes his fingers off your clit and grips your breasts again, pinching your nipples between his fingers. He sucks bites into your shoulder, letting you enjoy the feeling of Crowleys fingers in your arse. You sigh in relief, clit getting sensitive and moan at the feeling of fullness. The burning ache, dulling to a pleasurable tingle. The demon focuses on stretching you open for a few more moments. You feel your back start to stick to Aziraphales chest, feeling him nuzzle into the back of your neck, holding your waist again. The demon adds a third finger, spreading them in the process.

“Crowley,” you moan, softly.

“What is it my sweet little demon?” he asks, looking up at you.

“I’m ready, please, no more,” you say, breathily.

“You ready Angel?” Crowley asks Aziraphale, knowing the Angel is brimming with anticipation.

“Yes my dear, I want to be inside of her so badly,” he responds eagerly, thrusting his hips slightly, rubbing his dick up against your back. You feel the discomfort of Crowley slipping his fingers free and you whimper. Crowley sits up on his knees and smiles widely. You reach your hands up to grip his cheeks, pulling him forward into a kiss, realizing you hadn’t had the chance yet. He hums softly against your lips and you kiss sweetly, his lips feeling like coming home. It only lasts a brief moment, all three of you too worked up to wait longer. Aziraphale unwinds his arms, releasing your legs and sneaks out from behind you. He sits at your side and Crowley in front of you.

“Doll, how do you want us this time?” Crowley asks, caressing your cheek with his hand. You look between the two of them and your cheeks heat up. Aziraphale is a little bit thicker then Crowley, meaning he’ll stretch your arse out more, which could be uncomfortable. On the other hand you haven’t seen Crowley in a week and want to be face to face with him, feeling his dick stretch your pussy. They wait patiently for your answer. Each of them with a hand around their cocks, aching for relief.

“I think, I think I want Crowley to be in my pussy this time,” you say, as your blush travels to your chest, feeling a little guilty. Aziraphale notices the guilty look on your face and he leans close to press a kiss to your cheek. He leans back and looks into your eyes.

“Love, don’t feel guilty, there’s nothing to feel bad about. You know I love being inside of your tight little arse.” Grinning, he backs off again. You giggle lightly. Crowley smiles at you both and moves to lay on his back on the bed. He bends his knees and plants his feet.

“Well then pretty girl, come sit on my dick,” Crowley remarks, looking all too happy with himself. You roll your eyes playfully and move to straddle his lap. You feel the heat of the Angels chest on your back as he settles between Crowleys legs.

“Azi, will you help me?” Without turning your head you speak to Aziraphale and you watch Crowleys cock jump as you speak. You wink at him. He sticks his tongue out at you with a little hiss. Aziraphale moans into the skin of your shoulder.

“Heavens love, you’re gonna make me cum before I even get inside of you,” he replies, he grips your hips guiding you to lift onto your knees. You obey and stay still as one of his hands snakes under you to grab onto Crowleys leaking, hard cock. You both hear the demon let out a hiss. Aziraphale lines up Crowleys cock with your soaking pussy. Aziraphale teases you both by rubbing Crowleys tip through your folds, spreading them gently and you both whine, you dig your nails into the demons chest. You hear the Angel laugh before he lets the demons cock catch on your pussy and he tugs your hip, pulling you down onto Crowleys cock. When you start to feel the delicious stretch of the demon, Aziraphale stills your descent.

“Wait love.” Scooting back the Angel gets a better view of you two.

“Angel, c’mon stop teasing us, let me inside her pussy,” Crowley all but growls, you make a sound of agreement. Aziraphale laughs brightly, loving to torture you both a bit.

“I just want to be able to see that’s all dearest. You wouldn’t deny me the gorgeous view of you filling her up would you?” he says, voice teasing. Crowley just groans in response. Aziraphale presses a hand to your lower back, tilting you forward a little bit, exposing you more. He grips both of your arse cheeks and spreads them open. “Perfect,” he breathes. “You can let him fill you up now darling,” he says, squeezing both cheeks.

“How lovely of you to let us start having sex Azi,” you say, sarcastically. He hums in response, eyes glued to where you and Crowley connect. You let yourself sink down onto Crowleys cock, letting him stretch your pussy open blissfully. You and the demon cry out simultaneously as you bottom out, sitting fully in his lap. “Crowley, you feel so good, oh god.” Choking on a moan you brace more of your weight on him.

“For fucks sake sweetheart, your pussy always feels so good. You take me so well, yes just like that pretty little thing,” Crowley cooes. You hear the Angel behind you whimper softly at the sight. You feel Aziraphales hands grip your waist as he encourages you to start riding the demon.

“Azi, shit, shit, yes that feels so good,” you cry out, using your thighs to ride Crowley. Every time you move up and down you feel his warm cock drag against the walls of your pussy, creating friction so good you feel heated sparks shoot up through your spine. Crowley talks a big game but now a he’s a moaning, needy mess beneath you, fingers gripping your thighs tight. Aziraphale looks over your shoulder at Crowley as you ride him.

“Oh Crowley, such a pretty mess you make. Her pussy making you feel good dear boy?” he says, voice soothing. Crowley nods and lets out a groan from deep in his chest. All of a sudden there’s hands on your hips, yanking you down onto Crowleys cock, making you sit still in his lap. Your pussy clenches tight around Crowleys cock, and you gasp sharply. The demon curses in return. “My loves, I can not wait any longer. I need to be inside your sweet arse my doll, need to feel my cock caressing Crowleys,” he says, voice trembling, hands smoothing up your back.

“Yes, yes okay Azi, fill me up please, want you both.” Wiggling your hips in the Angels grasp.

“Are you ready dear?” Addressing Crowley quickly, he already has a hand pressing into the middle of your back, forcing you to bend more and you place your hands on either side on Crowleys head, staring into his snake eyes.

“Yes my Angel, please I want to feel you both,” Crowley answers, voice breathy, making steady eye contact with you. “You can do it my sweet little demon, you can take him, we’ve got you,” Crowley coos, framing your face with his hands. You whine and your eyes widen as you feel the head of the Angels thick cock press against your arse. He must’ve miracled more lube onto his cock, because the tip of his dick pops in past your rim easily. You choke on an inhale feeling a flash of stinging pain as he lets you adjust and he rubs your lower back lovingly, while he tries to keep still. Your arse so tight and warm. So slick it’s almost already too overwhelming for him. You let out a strangled whimper, already feeling the burning ache turn up a notch. The two of them whisper sweet nothings to you and massage whatever skin their hands can reach as you take deep breaths.

“Azi, please, move, fuck me,” you almost sob. The sensation pushing the edge of too much.

“Yes dear, doing such a good job, look so pretty taking both of us.” Aziraphale babbles, whispering sweet praises as he slowly fills your arse all the way up, balls pressing against your skin. He waits only a few seconds before pulling his hips back and thrusting forward again smoothly. Aziraphale starts to find a steady rhythm and the pain starts to fade into immense pleasure, making you sigh with relief. Crowley lets out a sound that must’ve been punched out of him as he feels Aziraphales cock start to drag against his through your slick and warm walls.

“Fuck! Angel, your cock feels so good against mine, hah, she’s so damn tight.” Crowley feels white hot pleasure crash over him in waves and his toes curl as he tries to thrust upwards to match a somewhat steady pace with the Angel. Aziraphales head falls back as he lets out a throaty moan.

“Heavens Crowley, you do feel unbelievable.” As they both start to move your arms give out. The sensation of being filled in both holes overwhelming to say the very least. You have to rest your chest against Crowleys and bury your face in his neck. You cry out repeatedly into his skin, letting out little ah’s as they pleasure you. You hold onto the sheets by the demons head with a death grip. He murmurs your name lowly in your ear.

“You’re such a good girl, taking us like I knew could. Your pussy is unbelievable, you love this don’t you sweetheart,” he says, hushed and quiet in your ear. You’re so blissed out you can’t respond right now, just writhing in his hold, trying to gulp down air. Crowley grips your arse tightly while Aziraphale keeps his hands on your hips. Both of them pulling and pushing in and out of you, filling you over and over. They stretch you to your limits as they both move a bit faster, finding a faster rhythm now. Never leaving you without one of their cocks filling you up.

You all listen to the wet smacking sounds of wet skin meeting wet skin lewdly. Aziraphales hooded eyes meet Crowleys and they interlace their fingers together on the left side of your hip, fucking into you almost roughly now. Your belly tightens dangerously, heat warring in your stomach. Your pussy starts to flutter around Crowleys cock and you know Aziraphale can feel it in your arse too. You get the strange pressure in your pelvis that signals you might squirt and your heart races.

“Crowley,” you whine, words pressing against his neck.

“I know sweet girl, I know, you’re about to cum aren’t you?” The demon soothes you while pressing a kiss the the side of your head. He pants in your ear as he works to keep up the rhythm Aziraphale set. Aziraphale’s been listening to the demon whisper into your ear and he bites the inside of his cheek, his heart warming at the sight of the two of you. It makes his cock throb as he locks eyes with Crowley.

“She’s gonna cum Angel,” Crowley warns, Aziraphale taking the chance to brace one hand on your upper back, pushing you down into Crowleys chest. He’s still holding Crowleys hand. He breathes heavily as he moves his hips, fucking into your sweet spot through you arse in long, fast strokes.

“I know my love,” he breaks off, groaning. “I-I’m afraid I’m getting close as well. Her arse is just too tight and with the way you feel against me, I won’t last much longer,” he says, whiny edge to his voice. Crowley nods and wraps his free arm around your waist, hugging you tightly.

“I’ve been trying not to c-cum this whole time,” Crowley replies, breathless laughter ringing out as he fucks up into you harder. Just like that you wrap your arms around the demons neck, wanting to be even closer to him as the coil in your belly releases. The unbearably warm pleasure of your orgasm gushes through your limbs, feeling like warm caramel. Your body tenses as you sob into Crowleys neck. Your pussy and your arse clenching suffocatingly so around the cocks currently working you through your climax.

“Oh, oh, hah, so good, pretty girl, doing such a good job, making me cum with your sweet arse,” the Angel spews, words spilling out of him, unable to stop. His hips stutter before he’s pressed all the way in, balls tightening and he starts to cum, filling your arse with sticky, warm release.

Crowleys able to watch as the Angels face twists with pleasure, eyebrows scrunching and his mouth falling open into an o shape. Cheeks flushed pink as his eyes fall shut. He squeezes the demons fingers and your arse with the other hand.

“You’re both so pretty when you cum, fucks sake, it’s not fair,” Crowleys whines, moving his hips harder as Aziraphale holds you still. You’re only able to relax for a few seconds before they hear you suddenly gasp.

“Azi, Crowley! I’m gonna squirt!” You cry out, tone frantic, feeling panicked as you cum for a second time. You squeeze around them both. Aziraphale cries out at the overstimulation and Crowley throws his head back onto the pillow and moans through his teeth. Your body trembles and you hang onto Crowleys shoulders for dear life and pleasure sparks through you again, only this time the pressure in your pelvis releases and you feel yourself squirt all over the demons belly and pelvis, Aziraphale can feel it on his balls, making him shiver. You let out a muffled scream into Crowleys shoulder.

The feeling of you squirting and watching the Angels face as he cums, it shoves Crowley off the edge. Not push, it brutally shoves him. He lets go of Aziraphales hand and presses his palm to the back of your head, tucking your face into his neck as he starts to cum. His other arm squeezes your waist even tighter.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m cumming, oh shit.” Crowley cries out, cumming hard. Harder than he expected and he swears his vision whites out and his ears start ringing as he lazily thrusts his hips upwards. He feels like he’s been bathed in sunlight, blood buzzing. Aziraphale groans through his teeth as he feels Crowleys warm cum through the thin layer separating them, the demons dick throbbing in your pussy.

Your body shakes from the overstimulation where you lay on Crowleys chest. You all take deep breaths as you feel the Angels sweaty forehead on your back. After giving everyone a moment to return to their bodies, Aziraphale pulls out first. He does so slowly, knowing him being in your arse is a big cause of the overwhelming sensations you’re feeling. You whimper softly as his softening dick slips out of you and he flops down on one side of Crowley. You twist your head to look into his blue eyes as Crowley releases you from his iron grip.

“Are you alright my sweet doll?” Aziraphale prods gently, brushing hair off your forehead, as he noticed some of your hair falling out of the bun you put it in earlier. You nod your head.

“Yes, yeah I’m okay, I just feel exhausted.” You smile goofily. He presses a kiss to your forehead and your lips. You hum appreciatively and kiss him in return briefly. You two share a sweet, loving look. You lean back a little so you can look into Crowleys eyes, wanting to check on him.

His cheeks are flushed but his eyes are closed. You and Aziraphale glance at one another and you giggle. Aziraphale props himself up on one elbow to see the demons face. You lean down to kiss each one of Crowleys cheeks and he mumbles incoherently before opening his eyes. “Are you back in the land of living Crowley?” You ask teasingly as you brush your noses together in an intimate gesture, giving the demon butterflies.

“Barely,” he responds with one word, making you and the Angel laugh. Crowley grips the bottoms of your thighs and pulls you up his waist a little bit, letting his cock slip out of you. You wiggle uncomfortably as you feel their releases now start to drip out of both your holes. Not to mention the mess you made of Crowleys belly.

“Can one of you miracle away this mess please?” you request.

“I’ve got it my love,” Aziraphale responds, voice sweet and he waves his hand once, making the mess you all created disappear. You all but purr against Crowleys chest in return.

“Thanks Angel,” you say happily. “Should we make Crowley sleep in the middle tonight?” you ask Aziraphale, who hums thoughtfully in response. Crowley cuts in.

“No no, you two are like heaters, I’ll sweat to death if I sleep in the middle.” You slide off the demons chest and you lay on his other side, feeling sore all over.

“Nope too late, you’re sleeping in the middle, right Angel?” you ask, slipping an arm around his waist, resting your head on his chest. Aziraphale giggles. He sits up to grab the blanket at the foot of the bed and pulls it up covering all three of you. Laying down he wraps his own arm around the demons waist as well, rubbing your forearm softly.

“Crowley you can’t say no, you’ve been gone all week dear. Give us this one thing.” The Angel replies, cheekily. Crowley turns his head to glare at Aziraphale who takes the chance to kiss him, pressing their lips together sweetly. Truthfully, Crowley really can’t say no to either of you.

“Fine! Fine, but only tonight,” Crowley relents, pulling away from the kiss. You use a finger to turn his head by his chin. You kiss the demon as well. Crowley moans softly at the feeling. You pull back and lock eyes with your Angel, who smiles at you both with a look that says he’s in love.

“Come here, kiss me sweet girl,” he whispers. You can’t help but lean over Crowley to kiss Aziraphale just as eagerly.

“Oi, oi! No kissing over me, I don’t have the energy for another round right now.” Crowley says, pouting. You and Aziraphale part, nuzzling noses for a second before each laying back down on your respective sides of Crowley. You all snuggle up closely.

“Welcome home Crowley, I love you both,” you whisper, happily as someone snaps their fingers and the light shuts off, blanketing you all in darkness. You feel the demons arm snake under you and curl around your waist and the Angel tangles your fingers together, letting them rest on Crowleys belly. They both whisper I love you in return. Your heart feels full as you no longer lay in an incomplete bed.

[cylabook]

Reasons why are the diaboys weaker than yui(some)

As we know yui is a very strong person .but what most of us may ignore is the fact that she's stronger than our hot boys.

First of all she's always kind which is her strongest feature and selfless no matter what situation she is in not like some people.

In the whole anime she only cried once in ep4 .

And when it's about the mosquitoe boys when know the story they had a" dark past "blahblah, they're" traumatised "blahblah ..okey we know but wasn't that "dark past" like 300 years ago can they just have a trauma after all those years when our angel still menages to be strong when it's happening everyday .

And about the other half- mosquitoes just have they're darker past too

Like ruki was a jerk that was spoiled rotten since birth and after all what he've done still thinks that the world didn't give him "justice"

And the cringy part when he said that he murdered a cat because yui has ended its freedom.

I mean woow that's a great excuse

The orphanage didn't fix him as well.

And a cringier part is that he accepted the help of karl heinz to revenge from humanity. Another great excuse for being alive.and he revenged in a great way i mean he read the whole books of humanity 😀. And changed some of their foods .isn't that a disgrace for the humanity we must fear him after all his revenge.

The problem is that he's my favorite diaboy...what can i say i'm an open-minded i'm talking about our revenger

And kou just because he is an idol doeasn't give the right to call our angel u*ly i had a terrible time writing that word.

I mean we know he's an idol and everything but...... i just can't that's so cringy

And ruki i just wanna say that just because he's mom is a jerk doesn't make all women like it the poor boy he's afraid of women now💔

And the funny thing is even in the se*ual intercourse he can't let the girl take charge maybe he's afraid she can breack his thing i mean maybe we musn't attack the poor guy

And in my opinion the cringiest boy in this bunch of mosquitoes 🦟 is ......reiji

He had the best past and his mother didn't neglect him that mush in some games she told him that she's proud of him for studying hard . And dtill he burned a whole village out of jealousy and killled him mommy ....i don't think i have to explain more .

And the fact that they hate humans. First of all aren't the ones who made their past ''dark'' vampires .so why are they hating humans .

I was crual for them now i mean humans feed them isn't that bad that so disrespectful towards vampires i'm ashamed for attacking them.

I mean look at that smile i wanna pretect her so mush non of the mosquitoes deserves her...............or dogs i misgender some of them.

[herwritingartcowboy]

Could you do a Lyney or Diluc x fem! reader? (If not then GN!) One sided on readers part, and he falls out of love with her/them. (Inspired by “La gata baja la lluvia” - Rocío Durcal)

A/n: Do check out the song.

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Character(s): Lyney, Diluc,

Warning(s): Unrequited Love, Bit Of Angst,

Readers Gender: Female (Also Seen As Gn)

Lyney-

Lyney had always been into you since he first met you. Him and his siblings were caught under the rain and you happily let them into your home which they were all thankful for.

Lyney fell in love with your kind but yet serious nature. He would always tease you but that was just his way to hide his true feelings for you. But for all this time those dark thoughts in his mind were eating at him, Do you love him like he loves you?

Yet he never lets it weigh on him for now all he can do is enjoy his time with you. But all came crashing down when the traveler came to Fontaine. He hated seeing how you two would interact the way you two would talk to each other like you knew him/her longer than how you've known him, his heart was hurting.

He tried to up in antics of winning your heart and attention away from the traveler but he can tell the traveler had you wrapped around his/her finger.

Lyney had always hopped that deep down you may have the same feelings for him but when you found out he was part of the fatui he can see the hatred and disappointment in your eyes. Maybe then he realized you never loved him and that all you had was a great friendship, key word had.

He had let go of his feelings for you now seeing you as an enemy he hoped one day you two can be friends again but he knew you two will never be more than that, not like he cares anymore.

Diluc-

You had always had feelings for the current owner of Dawn Winery and the man who ran the tavern Angles Share. To you he was a sweet gentleman but recently it's been dawning on you that you may never get with Duluc but that was gonna change as today you will ask him out.

You kept telling him that for a week but he would always push you aside or make up an excuse. For the week you understood as an owner he could be a busy man but when you asked for his time Diluc said he would be busy and wanting to go home and you nodded saying you understand.

But before you can leave you can see his expression on his face not one of anger just annoyance and that when it hit you, you never had his heart in the first place. To you it was funny how some rain was now falling and you just walked left while the rain drenched your clothes.

You stopped coming around the Angels Share as you didn't want to see the man you once loved. You were looking through some shops till you heard someone called out your name. You looked to see Kaeya come up to you with a sweet smile.

He asked why he hasn't seen you at the Tavern lately and you answered saying how you felt sick because of the storm/rain for awhile ago. He nodded and started to talk with you more as you both ended up spending the whole day together making you forget your self pity over Diluc.

You ended up going back to Angles Share but this time not hovering over Diluc you let yourself not be a lost puppy character but let yourself branch out. You were making jokes with Kaeya and talking with Rosaria while hearing Ventis songs. Yours and Dilucs relationship did expand more and everyone can tell that Diluc was changes around you.

Sadly now you can only see Diluc as a friend and it's weird how Kaeya was returning some affection you gave him and you soon found yourself smitten for someone else now. Maybe now Diluc can understand what he lost when he saw you two share a drink one night while holding hands, he knew he was too late now.

[harrisonarchive]

Photo 1 by Mark Sullivan.

“When I got Dark Horse Records, I had a couple of artists come up with logos, and there was one guy who painted one that looked really nice, with a nice color scheme, but it was a Chinese horse. I wanted something kind of different, and I was in India early in 1974 and I just thought I’m bound to find something if I keep my eyes open. One day I was in this placed called Udaipur and I looked across the street in the market, and I thought I could see some little pictures of enamel. And I got across the street and it was tins of paint on this stall. And I looked at all the tins, and they all had different labels on them, and one of them had the horse. It was a white horse but it had seven heads, and I thought, there’s my logo! I bought the tin can, brought it back and gave it to the artist and got him to make it dark and turn it ‘round so it would run the right way around the label. That’s the drag now about CDs: you don’t get to have any nice logos you can see turning.” - George Harrison, Goldmine, November 27, 1992 “[Jan Steward] created the logo for George Harrison’s record label, Dark Horse. It features the seven-headed flying horse Uchchahishravas from Indian art and mythology.” - The Los Angeles Times, August 11, 2020 “‘George always considered himself to be a dark horse — under the radar,’ [Olivia] says. ‘It’s interesting considering he was so out there [in the public]. But he was very internalized. If you looked at him onstage, he didn’t physically jump around and express himself like that. In that dark-horse way, people wouldn’t expect you to be a songwriter or be spiritual or funny, because you’re a dark horse. Nobody really knows what’s going on with you.’ Harrison told [Jim] Keltner he was starting his own record company and even showed him an illustration of the Uchchaihshravas, a seven-headed horse common in Hindu mythology, which would serve as the company’s logo. ‘He was just the king of all horses, the prototype for all horses, the best horse ever,’ says Dhani of the symbol. ‘He turned the tide in the battle and just generally was seen as this powerful vehicle for protection and overcoming.’” - Rolling Stone, March 9, 2020

[vidavalor]

Do you have anything on the way Aziraphale says pennies in the scene when he gets the record from Maggie? I love your posts and saw that you wrote about that scene. It might be a dumb thing to focus on but thought you might have some ideas. Thank you!

Hi there! 💕 Hope you're having a fun day today. Thanks for the kind words & the ask. I'm glad you like the posts. It's not a dumb thing to focus on-- there's no such thing. I'm tickled to have this question, in particular, as I almost included something about Aziraphale's use of pennies in the Shostakovich meta you mentioned but left it out of that since the coin-related wordplay is really its own topic.

On "eight pounds and seventy-five pennies" and coining a phrase or two (groan 😂) in Ineffable Husbands Speak...

In the Bible, a penny is a denarius, which is...

...an ancient Roman, silver coin.

The denarius was worth ten asses. That coin, in singular form, was called an as and, while it had nothing to do with human posteriors or donkeys, that is definitely not going to stop Crowley and Aziraphale from working that homophone. It's worth mentioning probably that the bookshop is referred to in Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings Who Walk the Earth as Angelic Embassy X and the Roman numeral for ten is X. Things relating to the letter X or the number ten = the bookshop.

So, a penny is a denarius and a denarius was worth ten asses, meaning: Aziraphale is sure this record is getting him some love in the bookshop later with his redheaded, ancient Roman, silver coin here because he tells Maggie that the symphony is actually worth eight pounds and seventy-five of those denarius pennies. Shostakovich is going to get them three-quarters of the way there. 😉

The amusing part of the bookshop's Heaven name being Angelic Embassy X is that it seems very evident that, even though that means ten in a human way, there were not nine, other embassies before it. X is a Roman numeral that can be used as a kind of filler as well-- an indicator of something that is first of its kind or for an unknown. The latter of those would be funny with the way that they use know/knowing with the Biblical connotation intact as an euphemism for being lovers. Angelic Embassy X keeps them unknown to Heaven but the word contains know and known and would also then mean that in their speak as well.

It is also because of what else it stands for that Crowley and Aziraphale likely picked it:

X, an independent variable in mathematics...

X, sometimes the indicator of a collaboration in artistic endeavors; X, as in adult content; and X, as in part of XO, the hugs and kisses sign off in a letter, email or text. The bookshop itself is made up of Os-- built in the round with a compass theme. The compass theme and its directions, plus Crowley's use of them in this same part of the Demon's Guide entry add to the idea that Angelic Embassy X/the bookshop is all X's and O's-- the place for hugs and kisses and all the stuff of life to be had in peace, made funnier by the fact that they're using a very common form of symbolic language to describe it. Further suggestion of this is Bildad's "XO" joke:

Denarius also sounds a bit like dinner, us, which fits the whole sneaking around, hiding Crowley's presence in the shop after dark thing, which Crowley also referred to as nightlife in 2.06 (when describing Alpha Centauri-- the plan, not the planets-- as being a "couple of decent planets. No nightlife to speak of.") The words containing the word us and the etymology of dinner and to dine are whole other topics that overlap with lunch, breakfast, fast and dangerous in their speak. It'd be going in a different direction from your ask, though, so we'll save that for another post.

Aziraphale talking about pennies is also not the first time that money-- including the denarius-- has been used in wordplay in the series. Given that Aziraphale is a business person and that Crowley is the local black market, what a business usually spends, takes in, makes as change, and seeks, in general, to make, is money. A lot of words related to types of modern money have linguistic origins in the same place that Crowley and Aziraphale's sexual relationship had some origins-- ancient Rome-- which is likely why they use a lot of words with ties to it.

It is, one might say, a bit romantic to do so.

Crowley uses a reference to the denarius back in S1 in his response to Aziraphale in the Seeds of Destruction scene, where we see a word-within-word reference to the denarius in a money-themed sentence, using the modern monetary term that evolved from denarius:

the dinar.

Ordinary: Contains or and dinar. Or is homophonic for oar-- what one uses to row a boat, in keeping with their whole fish and the sea sexual metaphor. To respond to Aziraphale wording him with an entire paragraph of very hot Ineffable Husbands Speak with a reference to the mess they're talking about on the surface being just "an ordinary cock-up" is actually to pretend to sound unaffected while saying in their speak that Aziraphale's got this ancient Roman silver coin ready to get into Aziraphale's pockets at the first available opportunity.

Other uses of ordinary and extraordinary, the latter of which includes the X of the above Angelic Embassy X/ten meaning:

Crowley doesn't "feel anything out of the ordinary" when Aziraphale starts going on about flashes of love...

...and when he wants to go home and shag each other senseless in 1.01, he says he's in the mood for...

...quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol.

Money, which Crowley specifically used in the Seeds of Destruction scene as we noted above, is also a word rooted in ancient Rome that ties to other bits of wordplay we've looked at before related to the mint tea, Maggie and Hell, and also a very Good Omens-y bit of Greco-Roman mythology.

Money comes from the Old French moneie, off of the Latin moneta, which meant both money and a mint where coins were first produced in ancient Rome. Moneta is either or both the title or surname (it's unclear & differs between stories) of the Roman goddess Juno. The grounds for a temple made to worship Juno was where coins were minted in Rome and, some speculate, where they might have also been stored.

One of the stories of Juno-- whose Greek equivalent is the goddess Hera-- has some interesting ties to how Good Omens describes Crowley's fall and might be a mythological story to which they are alluding. There are a lot of interpretations of these myths and some really terrible misogyny in the way that Juno and Hera are are treated by a lot of scholars but if we just take the skeleton of the myth itself and look at that, you'll be able to see something of a comparison here to Crowley's story.

The story goes that Juno and Zeus, the god of lightning, had a son, Vulcan. [The etymology of Vulcan is muddled & not worth rehashing here.] Juno rejected Vulcan as her child and tossed him off of Mount Olympus, causing him to have this very long, horrific fall that crashed him down below the surface of the Earth. This is part of the origin story across different Greco-Roman myths for volcanoes, as Vulcan would wind up being the god of fire and an artist who eventually would harness the power of fire to invent metalworking and blacksmithing as a result. Vulcan's fall-- both the psychological trauma of it and the physical pain of it-- left him broken and paralyzed him from the waist down.

He was rescued by a sea nymph who brought him to her underwater grotto and healed him. They lived there together for years, with Vulcan making art and jewelry out of combining together his knowledge of fire with pearls (the product of mollusks, like oysters) and other jewels of the sea.

He would also share the products of that knowledge with others and taught them to wield the elements of fire and water the way he does.

He also would make the Crowley-esque thrones and chariots.

Later on, Juno came to learn that he was her son and sought to have a connection with him, only now that he was renowned. Vulcan laid a trap for her by making her an ornate throne which, when she sat in it, held her trapped for a few days until her husband, Zeus, could be bothered to intervene. Zeus negotiated with Vulcan and told him that if he freed his mother, he could marry the goddess of love, Venus (Aphrodite, in Greek mythology.) Vulcan said fine and gave up his mom and mom-related trauma so he could go marry Venus, even if the myth gets a tragic ending of sorts, since it is said that raging fires would erupt whenever she was unfaithful to him.

So, if instead of a baby rescued by a sea nymph who acted like a mom to the child, you spun this around a bit and looked at it as Juno is God, Crowley is Vulcan and has been implied to have been a throne/dominion when he was an angel, the drop from Mount Olympus into the volcano is Crowley's fall, the paralysis is metaphorical for the anorgasmia story that is the turnip & the inkwell metaphor and which we looked at in Fish, and Aziraphale is both the sea nymph and Aphrodite/Venus, with the bookshop as their underwater grotto, then there are some allusions to the myth in Crowley and Aziraphale's story.

Aphrodite, for what it's worth, is also the goddess who is almost always drawn naked on an oyster shell and whose name is the root of the word aphrodisiac, speaking, as we have been, of ancient Rome.

Zeus is also the father of Persephone and the other Roman myth to which Crowley's story appears to be alluding is Hades and Persephone. You can follow the link in the mint paragraph above if you have not read that post and would like to read more about that.

Adding to this is what little we know of the literal part of Crowley's fall, which he described as "a million-light-year freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur." Sulphur is mined from volcanoes and referred to by miners as "The Devil's Gold."

On a more humorous note, the denarius was eventually replaced in ancient Rome by another coin called-- I kid you not-- the antoninianus.

So, Aziraphale is standing there in Maggie's record shop, with his symphony with the Saint Anthony's Sermon to the Fishes joke in it, silently cracking himself up over the etymology of money-themed words tying to Rome and all that naked Anthony that Aziraphale knows this record is about to get him later on.

The history of the penny in the U.K. versus in America also makes the fact that Aziraphale said pennies in his sentence interesting.

While the penny has been a form of money in both places for a long time, how it is measured and what it is worth changed in the U.K. in 1971 when the British decimalized the pound. This meant that the penny became worth 1/100th of a pound, in the same way that a penny in the United States is 1/100th of a dollar. Changing how the British pound was measured was an act of government in the U.K. that aimed to make it more like America, which probably bemuses Crowley and Aziraphale and led to Aziraphale's love of the word pennies.

Even though America itself is far from perfect (like every country they use symbolically), America equates to freedom and liberation so Aziraphale probably was amused to use a word that relates to a moment of the British admitting for once that the Americans had done something better than they had. This is also because there's a real 'Heaven is the British Empire' parallel happening for them and in the show as a whole. As a result, Crowley and Aziraphale have a tendency to align themselves with countries that have complicated histories with England (The U.S., Scotland, the love for France, etc..).

(I would argue that while we probably have a good system of measuring money over here in the States, the rest of the world has measuring things like temperature far more under control and we desperately need to start following all of you on that.😂)

Crowley and Aziraphale, though, have a thing about using words related to forms of measurement that are used in America rather than other parts of the world. Despite being English-presenting beings who have lived in England for forever, they both use the word mile, for instance, instead of kilometers. The dashboard on The Bentley is even set up to show miles instead.

(I do always think it funny that Aziraphale says "ninety miles per hour" in this scene. It is the correct way to phrase how it's measured in the United States-- miles per hour, or mph-- but it is more common when speaking aloud to say: "ninety miles an hour." Aziraphale and his fussy formality-- intentionally or unintentionally-- is saying the American thing in the most English way possible and it's very cute.)

Part of the use of mile is probably also linked to its etymology being tied back to ancient Rome, which is also reflective of the influence of the Roman government and its system of laws, etc., on the founders of America. There's a bit of a direct thru-line historically between the two that also aligns with Crowley and Aziraphale's own history together and shows up in their speak.

There's also the fact that mile, as we looked at in another meta, comes from mil, which means one thousand. Aziraphale said "seventy-five pennies" to Maggie, which is 750 denarius-- 3/4ths of the way to a mil, in the etymological sense. Part of the joke there is that the homophone of mil is mill, a word that is at the cross-section of several different categories of words within their speak.

A mill is the machinery used to grind up flour for bread and other dough (see: the proofing banter in 1941 below) and it is also a factory where textiles are made (a bit of the seamstress-related language at work in there). Amusingly?

It also has a direct connection back to coins.

In terms of minting coins, to mill a coin is to mark the edges of coins with protective ribbing as a way of helping them to keep their luster and not disintegrate over time. To rib is to affectionately tease, all made funnier by the fact that these two have a certain history with some ox ribs and a bit of a focus on the edges of, ah, coins.

Adding to this a bit is the etymology of the word coin itself.

It comes from the Latin cuneus, which meant a wedge (which contains edge.) In ancient times, a wedge-shaped tool was used to form designs onto metal when making coins. This actually relates back over to the music theme of this post, as we'll look at below. The Latin cuneus has etymological links to cunnus, the basic Latin word for the vulva, and-- unsurprisingly to women everywhere lol-- an archaic, derogatory slang word for a woman that is basically equivalent to (and an ancestor of) negative use of the word cunt today. The word cunninlingus is from cunnus plus the Latin lingere, which meant to lick. The word coin is from the same roots as getting your garden box watered, and contains the Old French coi and its modern English-used spelling of coy, meaning demure or modest now but originally from the Latin quietus, meaning free, calm, peaceful, and restful.

Plus, coy's homophone... the koi fish. 🐟 They live in water gardens and koi ponds-- see: pounds and its connection to pond-- and are a form of carp.

A wedge is also just another name for the musical term of a dash, which is a direction in musical notation that signals that the note is to be played in a staccato manner. Staccato manner is notes played with emphasis but separately and with pauses in between. It's edging described in the language of music.

In modern musical notation, a dash actually refers to a note to be played staccatissimo, which is just very, very staccato. A dash is also the longer signal in Morse Code, making it also another reference to coded language. Aziraphale's magic words are actually all of the parameters of their hidden language spoken *in* their hidden language-- likely why he's repeating them to Crowley at every turn in 1941. A mark used to signify the notes to be played as staccato or staccatissimo is called a pike, which is also a type of fish, and is one part of the wordplay in the word Armageddon.

Within Armageddon lies the word ged, which is a term in heraldry for a type of fish-- the pike-- used to make visual, language-related puns on coats of arms. Various heraldry-inspired crosses and coats of arms are in the background in different scenes in the series.

Anyway, we just went in a big circle, so back to the "eight pounds and seventy-five" bit of the pennies line...

The number eight is a homophone for the word ate, which Crowley is referencing in a scene that parallels this one but took place in 1941:

Crowley and Aziraphale are wording each other a bit in this scene and here's an use of another monetary word with a Rome-to-America history-- cent-- in percent. Crowley uses eighty here which is, phonetically: ate, tea and is referring to their use of food and drink as sexually euphemistic in a scene in which the two of them are using improving (i'm proving/proofing), proving, and proof in ways that refer to both the measurement of ethanol content in alcohol and the activation of yeast or a fermentation process causing a rise in bread and other dough as an arousal metaphor. Probably made more evident when you look at Crowley's "lovely bottles of joy" comment above with the knowledge that the original definition of joy was actually sexual ecstasy.

So, Maggie innocently says that Aziraphale's pile of records- the only one to which he's given any attention being the Crowley-linked Shostakovich symphony-- would cost him "eight pounds", a phrase that is sort of funny in Crowley and Aziraphale speak, since eight is both a number and a reference to food and pound has a history ripe for the wordplay picking.

Pound comes from the same etymological roots as pond, giving it a tie to their bodies of water/fish metaphor. It's slang for fucking and also originally meant pint, a form of measurement that is also the name for an ale or a beer, which is alcohol, more on which can be found in the link.

At one point, the pound, in monetary form, was specifically a way to measure only a pile of silver... just, ya know, while we're chuckling at Crowley-related things. He even refers to himself using silver to Shax in S2:

Additionally, the word pound as a form of measurement came from the Latin word libra, which also meant a balance of scales and is from where the zodiac constellation comes.

Even scales in Ineffable Husbands Speak is also funny-- as scales are a musical term referring to a range of notes and also what fish have. In the magic shop scene in 1941, Aziraphale flirts with Crowley by way of a fish joke, saying he's looking for "something with scale, something climactic." (Scale also contains a form of alcohol in ale.)

Even, referring to a sense of balance in their fish world, and Aziraphale uses the word even with Maggie in this same mash of even scales/libra-related words, telling her that, where value is concerned, there is a balanced exchanged in her rent for the records and that they can "call it even."

Even is also part of the wordplay around seventy, in "seventy-five pennies", as it's one of the words contained in that word, along with seven.

Seven has been regarded as a lucky, magical and/or perfect number and there are a variety of reasons that could be all applicable here and in the overall symbolism of the show. Others have looked at it and it could be its own post. I think one of the funniest ones from an Ineffable Husbands Speak perspective, though, is that seven is the root of septentrion, which refers to the seven stars of the rather innuendo-laden-in-name The Big Dipper in The Great Bear, which has real language of The Dark Priesthood of Ancient Mu-type vibes. The word septentrion comes from a mashup of the Latin septem (meaning seven), triones (meaning-- I'm not kidding-- plow ox) and the root of terere, which means to rub.

One wonders if, in the Good Omens universe, Crowley and Aziraphale might have possibly had a hand in influencing the naming of constellations. 😂

In the opening of Good Omens, God says that The Earth is a Libra-- a phrase that could be a whole exploration on its own but which I thought I'd also mention in here since we're talking about the pound and scales.

Five in the "seventy-five pennies"-- especially with the way that Aziraphale emphasized the "iiiiive" part of it a little-- seems likely to me to just be the fact that it includes I've, which then makes "I've pennies" out of the end of what he's saying. Pennies as denarius-- bookshop sex with Crowley, Aziraphale's favorite ancient Roman silver coin, is vavoom sordid/sorted, thanks to this record-- but also that within pennies lies the very old penis euphemism of the pen.

Aziraphale and Crowley are using pen and ink euphemistically in a bunch of scenes-- Crowley's response to Aziraphale's French (the gardener doesn't have a... pen); the "tartan's stylish" on the park bench in S1 (stylish from stylus/pen); the turnip & the inkwell, etc..

Additionally, a pen is an animal enclosure so the bookshop, full of literal pens and books penned by others, is a pen in the sense that it's a dwelling for these ancient, word-nerdy dorks to get their animal on.

"Eight pounds and seventy-fiiiiiive pennies" is Aziraphale joking over how metaphorically (for now lol) hard getting the record has him and his excitement for the eight pounds' worth of fun he and Crowley are going to have that evening over it. Or would have if not for, ya know, the rest of S2.

"I know what I'll be doing for the next twenty-one minutes."

Next, actually comes from nigh and words relating to it that mean near or soon, as opposed to referring to the very next immediate moments. It also has links to Anglican nesta, and sounds like nest (which did emerge otherwise independent of next.) Theoretically, it can refer to the then-near future in their nest that is the bookshop.

Twenty, from the Old English twegan, meaning two, and tig, meaning a group of ten. Twenty-one = the two of them (he and Crowley) are a group of ten (the Angelic Embassy X group), and this record is going to be quite the muse for getting them to be literally one for a bit later on.

While making these coin jokes, Aziraphale is buying a symphony-- a bit of musical score. A score to help the angel score with his ancient Roman silver coin over here 😂... not that he needs any help in that department but a little music never hurt.

Music, from the Greek mousike techne, meaning the art of the Muses. In ancient Greece, the Muses were the goddesses of the arts and science, and considered by people to be the sources of knowledge that inspired all works of art, literature, poetry, music, and scientific experiments.

The wordplay in Crowley's line in 1.01 is that, in that moment, Mozart = Most art. The line is really "Because most art's one of ours," a reference to the two of them as akin to the Muses and, also, to being two beings whose own muses are the humans and their scientific and artistic endeavors.

From muse also comes the word amuse... and what could be better than something that both makes you crack up laughing but also turns you on? Crowley in 1827 had certainly found the perfect bit of amusement for Aziraphale, as Aziraphale recounted in their speak in his journal:

Dear Diary,

Last month, Crowley and I both happened to be in Edinburgh and he insisted that I visit a local graveyard at midnight. He said he had come upon something [ahem lol] that might amuse me...

Here is where we can also note that during The Meeting Ball That Was Totally Not About Maggie and Nina, Aziraphale had Gabriel circling with trays of free, tiny versions of the sometimes more dinner-sized vol au vents, which would be classified as an amuse-bouche-- literally: "to please the mouth"-- the French term for an appetizer selected by and often crafted by the chef out of thought that it would be an inspiring appetizer that would compliment the meal still to come.

So, Aziraphale's original intention was to woo Crowley with the music of that particular performance of Shostakovich's Symphony No. 5 and obtained the score on record to do so. The term score comes from its original definition of keeping tally. Score, from the late Old English scoru, meaning twenty-- thought to be because tallies of things with large numbers were thought to be done in batches of twenty...

...or, in Ineffable Husbands Speak, two people living one, shared existence, who make up the group of ten/X.

Or, they would have been if not for, you know, an unexpected, if very amusing-- in all definitions of the word-- arrival...

There's Shostakovich in the South Downs in your future, Crowley, just hang in there...

[auras-moonstone]

omg i love your ethan imagines so yk i have to request one!!! a gf!ethan x reader imagine based on the lines, “never was much of a romantic, i could never take the intimacy. and i know i did damage, cause the look in your eyes is killing me” from the song runaway by kayne west? (ignore that its a kayne west song i dont support his actions, and i do love taylor swift lolol) but its an angst where the reader and him are in like a complicated relationship where they both like each other but aren’t dating, and then the reader is their when he reveals himself in act 3? sorry if this request was long lol!! tysm 💖💖

hiii, i love your request and i love writing angst😫 i hope you enjoy it <3

hoax — ethan landry

word count: 1,686

pairing: gf!ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: y/n finds out the boy she loves is behind the killings, and thinks the love they had was a hoax.

warnings: angst. mention of death.

GROWING A LIKING TOWARDS Y/N HAD DEFINITELY NOT BEEN ON ETHAN LANDRY’S PLAN. He never even considered it a possibility, even though her dizzying smile and angelic laugh should’ve been enough warning signs. Ethan really thought it would be easy. Sure, Y/N was indeed super kind and funny—and she was lucky enough to have been out of Woodsboro during the murders, so the Kirsch family didn’t have a vendetta against her—, but the plan was the only thing on his mind so he never gave her a second thought outside of it.

Having juked the roommate lottery, he ended up sharing a dorm with Y/N, which meant spending most of his days with her as she was also his classmate. The plan was just to infiltrate the group through Y/N’s friendship. But her charm was inescapable, and soon enough Ethan’s eyes started to absentmindedly find her, his heart slowly began to pound faster whenever she was around, and his soul itched to maker her laugh, because he had grown addicted to that magical sound.

He didn’t have time to run, because he had fallen for her like an early spring snow—unexpectedly, shockingly but beautifully nonetheless. Y/N had swiftly entered his heart and mind to show him the romantic kind of love he had been missing his whole life.

No, they weren’t officially dating, but they both knew the feelings were reciprocated. They had difficult lives, and they couldn’t commit to a relationship yet. But neither of them minded that much, the mere presence of the other was enough. A simple etiquette wasn’t going to make any difference.

Ethan loved that Y/N wanted nothing from him, unlike his family—especially his dad, who forced him into a dark plan he never asked to be a part of. Ethan loved Richie, that was never in doubt, but he had it coming. His own decisions pushed him to his death. Was that the rest of the family’s destiny too? The thought of it paralysed Ethan, he didn’t want that to be his ending. He was just nineteen, he had a whole life ahead of him. But he also was terrified of hurting and disappointing his dad and sister, who were still a wreck after Richie’s death.

He had an internal war constantly going on inside his head and painted on his face. Y/N had noticed the anguish surrounding the boy for a couple of days now, and it worried her a lot.

“What’s going on in that pretty mind of yours?” she finally asked one day, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind as Ethan washed the dishes.

Her touch was as calming as a lullaby, and it was the only thing that could make him forget about what was going on in his life. “Family issues” he admitted.

“Everything okay?”

He turned around to face her “It’s just… they expect more from me” his answer was vague, but Y/N would never push him to tell her something he wasn’t ready to share. “They want me to focus more on the family business, and at first I was okay with it, but now I’m not so sure that’s what I want for my life.”

“Did you tell them that?” she asked softly.

He shook his head “I don’t want to disappoint them. This business is really really important to them.”

“I can’t tell you what you do, but you do know it’s your life, right? And you shouldn’t let yourself be miserable to keep someone else happy. If they don’t respect your wishes, why should you?”

Ethan hugged her to his chest and wished with all his strength for a future like this—with no revenge plans, with no fear of disappointing anyone, with not having to lie to the person he loved the most in the world. A future with her on his arms, without having to be constantly worried of losing her.

He knew better, but just for a moment, he let himself believe that future was possible. It was a little hoax that allowed him to keep going.

Y/N FELT LIKE HER BODY WAS GOING TO COLLAPSE FROM TIREDNESS AT ANY SECOND. She was exhausted, scared and tired of running for her life. Tara, Sam and Y/N were now cornered by not one, not two but by three Ghostfaces. Her feet hurt almost as much as her soul—they had just lost Chad, and there were no signs of Ethan and Mindy.

“Just quit the drama and show yourselves for fuck sake” Y/N said in irritation.

Officer Bailey looked at her, showing him a smirk she didn’t like at all. It was evil, secretive, the smirk of someone who knew something crucial that she didn’t. “Oh, kid, this is about to get more dramatic. Especially for you.”

When Ethan felt a pat on his chest, he knew it was time. He took off the mask. He had imagined that scene countless times, wondering what Y/N’s face would look like once she knew the truth. Yet no image could have prepared him for the immense amount of pain he was felt when his eyes met hers.

Y/N stood frozen, but her eyes said it all. They spelt betrayal, astonishment and above all, sadness. A hoax, a sleigh of hand, that’s what their bond had been. It had meant everything to her, and was just an strategic move for him. Ethan could read every thought on her mind, and he wanted nothing more than to cradle her into his arms and sweep all those ideas from her mind.

It all happened in a blur—one second her gaze and mind were focused on Ethan and the next one she was being dragged away by him.

“No!” she tried to fight him, her feet tried to stay firm on the ground but his strength was unbeatable. “Ethan, please.”

“I’m moving you to a safe place” he explained in a calm voice. But she didn’t trust him anymore, so fear crept into her body. Was this how she was going to die? At the hands of the boy she loved? “Here.”

The closet was dimly lit and narrow, their bodies were almost pressed against the other. “Let me go.”

“Y/N, it doesn’t matter to them if you had nothing to do with Richie’s death. They are going to kill you, you need to stay here.” he explained desperately.

Y/N’s eyes went to the knife held in his right hand, then she looked down at the stitches on her stomach, and she swore she heard the way her heart shattered like glass. Had Ethan—the one who had kissed the wound better, the one who had held her hand as the nurse stitched her up, the one who whispered reassuring sweet words on her ear as she looked down terrified at all the blood she had lost—been the one who inflicted that very same wound on her?

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was wondering, so Ethan grabbed her by the cheeks as if she was the most fragile thing in the world. The terrified look on her eyes didn’t go past him, and it killed him. “No, baby. No. I swear, I didn’t do that to you. I would never hurt you.”

“Don’t call me baby! And don’t you get it? You already did.” her lower lip trembled. The guy who she had trusted with her body and soul, the one that felt like home to her, was the person whom she should’ve been running away from all along. “Was I just some pawn in your game?”

Ethan’s eyes widened “What?”

“Was I just some kind of Trojan’s horse? The girl you used to get inside the group?”

The brunet wanted to say no, but they both knew it would be a lie. “Only at first…” when Y/N hid her face in her hands to sob, he couldn’t help but bring her into his arms. The action destroyed her, because his arms were the place she used to shelter herself in whenever she felt sad. And despite the fact that he was now the one piercing her soul, his embrace still quieted her pain. “But I fell for you, for real, Y/N. I hate myself for bringing you into this mess, you don’t deserve it. You’re… you’re the one who made me feel happy again after everything that happened last year.”

“Fuck you, Ethan. I hate you.” she cried in his chest. Y/N wanted to pull away almost as much as she wanted to lock her arms around his frame forever.

“I know, I’m sorry” he whispered. “I have to go.”

“No. No, please. Don’t leave me here, stay with me.” the panic in her voice was heavy.

“I’m going to come back for you, I promise. Don’t leave unless I come back, okay?”

What if you don’t come back? was the question that lingered on that small room. There was a high chance that he might not see her again, and that this was the last time she would see him alive.

“If you’re not back within ten minutes, I’ll go find you. And you better be alive, Ethan Landry.” the boy smiled, and pressed a short kiss to her lips. “Please come back to me, okay? I love you, please don’t make me live a life without you.”

“I will, Y/N. And then we’ll go home, and cuddle and everything will be okay. I love you.”

But that night, Y/N walked back to the apartment alone, leaving a part of her back in that shrine. She arrived to the place that stopped being a home and became a house instead. She tucked herself to bed and closed her eyes waiting for warm arms to hug her waist, but they never came. Instead, she had to hug the pillow that smelled like citrus—his shampoo—and let the salt tears fall freely.

She’s got a lot to live without now, and she’s never going to meet what a future with Ethan could’ve been. The battle was over, but the worse was yet to come. Now, she had to learn how to be without Ethan.

[blues824]

Can we get an octavinelle reaction to a Mary Poppins like reader?

I just imagine they're working at the monstro and floyd in a mood swing but then is entranced and distracted by the reader singing "a spoon full of sugar"

I forgot I had this in my inbox until I started writing the requests I had motivation for. Gender-neutral Reader who is not Yuu, but is based off of Mary Poppins.

Azul Ashengrotto

He absolutely agreed that you were “practically perfect in every way”. You made for a perfect waiter, as your kind and polite disposition made for a relaxing time for guests of the Lounge. Not just that, but you were very nondiscriminatory toward everyone.

You were very diligent in your classes, and he was often caught staring at you. To him, you were the equivalent of an angel. As you were clocking in to your shift, you would even give him some tips on how to reel in customers so that they sign more contracts. 

However, after the First Years defeated him when he overblotted, you were the one assigned to look after him in the infirmary. You were strict, too. He could have sworn that you had eyes in the back of your head with how vigilant you were. Your nanny instincts took over, and when you fed him some medicine, you poured it out of a bottle.

The thing was, it changed color because it looked to be a dark green in the bottle, but when it went onto the spoon, it was a pink color. It tasted like candy, which was very surprising to him. After he asked where you got the magic medicine, you responded by asking “what magic?” This literally drove him crazy.

Jade Leech

He was very happy to hear that his crush since freshman year was looking for a waiter job at the Mostro Lounge. The two of you actually made for great entertainment, as you both had similar dispositions. The eel was aware that you loved to dance, so whenever both of your hands were empty, he would place his hands upon your waist and twirl you around so as to not harshly bump into you.

You didn’t seem to mind his more intimidating nature either. What was funny was that you brought out your trusty tape measure and measured the very tall eel, and it said “Tied to nature and Y/N”, which made you a little flustered. He made a comment about the measurement not being wrong as he took your hand in his and placed a kiss on the back of it.

When the two of you are on the closing shift, you often use your magic to tidy up so it wouldn’t be too late for him to walk you back to your own dorm. You were very graceful in grabbing your carpet bag and the umbrella, and you placed your arm in his as he accompanied you.

Eventually, you did show your strict side when Jade got sick after hiking in the rain. You poured some medicine out, and he prepared for a bitter taste only for it to taste like a sweetened green tea. He didn’t mind being pampered by his beloved, but whenever he tried to sit up you would make him lay back down.

Floyd Leech

For everyone, you were a godsend. Whenever Floyd’s mood was down in the dumps, you would be called to help out. He was just so freaking in love with you that just seeing you made him brighten up. There was one time where he was having a bad day, and you sat with him and sang to him a song that you had sung to some kids you babysat a while ago. Needless to say, it made his day much better.

Your strict nature definitely showed whenever the eel wanted your attention while you were trying to serve guests. You would remind him that working hours are for work and you would cross your arms as you turned your back to him to emphasize your point. He would think you were joking at first, but quickly realized that you were 

This man is the Bert to your Mary. He’s goofy, he’s clumsy, but most of all: he cares. He might not be as keen about singing or dancing as you, but he can make you laugh more than anyone else ever could. He loved that he was the reason for your smile, and he made it a point to make you smile multiple times a day.

One time, he came to you complaining about sore muscles after basketball practice. So, you made him sit down on his bed as you prepared a few ice packs as well as started massaging his shoulders. The pure intimacy this displayed made the eel super flustered.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #18] Cake

warnings: fluff!! supermarkets!! to the mins for dinner!! very cute <3 oh also cw: jiyeong lol

a/n: yay for a non-lost header! the next couple are lost tho lol rip

soundtrack: juice - brb

wc: 6.8k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

When you wake the following morning, bright and early thanks to the cramping in your lower abdomen (of which you're pretending Jeongguk isn't to blame for), you know it would be unwise to entertain the idea of not doing his birds.

Things are too comfortable. Too easy.

Selfishly, you sort of think that maybe it would be nice to just wait a little bit longer - but Jeongguk has always been so good with your birds. Not once has he ever tried to avoid them. If anything, he always wants to do them.

He's been a good friend to you. It's time for you to reciprocate that.

Coffee in hand (iced, because who cares about the fact it's freezing outside?), you push open the door of a venue you hadn't expected to revisit so soon. A warm blast of air from the aircon unit greets you. It's harsh and abrupt.

Kind of like the way you and Jeongguk had agreed to not do any more of your birds. Not while he's dating, at least. He did make sure to let you know he'd be up for it again if the date didn't go well.

The great unknown. Your choices could make or break the future of the birds. Splitting custody of them should be easy. The actual separation? Less so.

You push these thoughts to the back of your mind, and head towards the front desk. It's sterile, and perfectly clean. Lifeless.

And there she is.

Kim Jiyeong.

Her long dark hair is up in a neat ponytail, and the way it shines makes you wish you'd never taken a box of bleach to yours. Your roots are growing through, but you're trying to lean into the whole 'hot mess' thing. You know that Seokjin wouldn't be a fan, which is what keeps you from even considering going to a proper salon.

"Oh," she says as she turns to face you, having not expected to see you back at the gym so soon after cancelling your membership. "Looking to sign back up?"

"No," you say with an awkward laugh, a little embarrassed. You think the fact you quit makes it look like you're a failure of sorts, but your mum had always told you sometimes the bravest thing a person can do is quit. You don't think this is one of those moments, but it's what you'd told Jeongguk when he'd been teasing you about it a few days ago. "I'm actually here to ask you a favour."

Now this does intrigue her. She barely knows you. Doesn't remember speaking to you in the bar toilets, warning you off Jeongguk - but you do. You know he's an absolute angel, now, so know her assertation of him being a fuck boy was baseless.

You're no psychologist, but you are a girl. You know exactly why she'd done it. Immature? Maybe - but hey, Jeongguk needs someone who can keep up with how childish he can be at times.

Jiyeong wouldn't be your personal choice of date, but she's well suited to Jeongguk, you think. Could be the grumpy to his sunshine.

You tell yourself off for thinking such things about someone you barely know - she just rubs you up the wrong way. 

Thing is, you know she'd quite like to rub Jeongguk up the right way.

His fear of rejection? Yeah, you don't think he'd ever need to worry about that with her. You've seen the way she looks at him. Heard how she laughs just a little bit harder when he's within earshot. You've met him at the bottom of the stairs before and seen how he demeanour changes.

"A favour?" She asks, not wanting to shut you down before she's heard you out. She can be irrational, sure, but she's not unreasonable.

"So obviously you know Jeongguk," you say, and she nods. Is quiet as she waits for you to continue. You can't believe you're actually doing this. You take a second before you start talking again. "Well-" you cut yourself off again. Laugh. She raises a brow and shakes her head, as if to say, 'what?'. "-Well, it's actually a funny story."

This was much easier when you practised in front of your bathroom mirror that morning.

And it's also not a funny story at all. Very tragic, actually.

"Okay?" She laughs now, awkwardly. It's uncomfortable for everyone - but it's probably better this way. You think it's better if you aren't friends with whoever you set Jeongguk up with.

"Okay, so, I'll cut to the chase," you say, regaining your confidence, remembering that this isn't about you. This is for him. "I made a bet with Jeongguk -" a lie, but we move. It's far easier to explain than the birds. "- and I basically have to find a girl to go on a blind date with him. I was wondering if maybe you'd be interested?"

She furrows her brows. Looks at you as if you're mad. "Are you not..."

"Not?" you question, and then you realise exactly what she means. "Oh! Oh. No, not at all," you laugh as if it's the funniest thing in the world. "No, we're just friends."

"But you-"

"We're close," you say before she can point out the fact that the pair of you have more chemistry than a research lab. You feel the need to reassure her. If she thinks you're involved with Jeongguk, then she'll be less likely to agree to the date - so you overcompensate. "But just friends. I actually have this whole thing going on with my ex. It's a mess. Gguk's been really good with it." And with his fingers. "So that's probably why you've seen us hanging out so much. But no, just friends. I mean- hello? I'm finding him a date."

You end the needlessly protracted rebuttal of your friendship with yet another awkward smile - but thankfully, Jiyeong's shoulders relax a little bit. And she smiles.

"Why me?"

You shrug. "I figure you have similar interests. He's always here."

And that's exactly what makes Jiyeong hesitant. "But if he wanted to ask me out, then surely he would have done? I appreciate the offer, but I've too much pride to date someone who isn't interested in me."

Ooft.

"Gguk... he's not great with the whole... picking up on signals thing," you say - which is true. You think he's none the wiser to Jiyeong's crush on him. "And he's also just a bit shy."

There's a slight glow about her when you say this - as if she's thinking over their small interactions, and how she could have misread some of them.

"He's a really good guy, and I want what's best for him," you say. You also want a safe bet, and Jiyeong seems like that. "I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't think you guys could be good together - and hey. You'll be way more fun to work out with than I ever was."

She smiles now, properly. "I did always wonder why you spent so much time doing...well..."

She doesn't want to be rude, but you know exactly what she means.

"Nothing?" You smile back. "I'm not made for the gym - but Gguk is."

"You can stop with the hard sell," she says. "I'll go on the date - but! If this ends badly, you're banned from the gym for life."

She's got no authority to do that - but she's teasing you. Being nice. Rome wasn't built in a day, no, but it feels like you're at least making groundwork.

Truth be told, you wouldn't mind a lifelong ban. 

"Perfect! You have Gguk on insta, right? I'll find you on there," you tell her, because you don't really mind her knowing how much of a sleuth you are. You figure she's just the same. In all honestly, she'll have to very quickly unblock you after you leave. "Don't mention this to him, though. I want it to be like a proper blind date."

She nods. "Sure. When are you thinking?"

"Can you do Sunday afternoon?"

Again, she nods. It's the day you usually hang out together, so you'll just replace the time you know Jeongguk has reserved in his schedule for you, and put Jiyeong in there instead.

"Okay perfect," you beam. "Leave everything to me! I'll send you the plans and a dress code - unless you have any date ideas?"

"Seems like you have it sorted," she smiles. Easygoing, you think. She really could be a great match for him. You don't know why Jeongguk's never considered it before. "Just give me a time and a place."

"Thank you, Jiyeong!" You grin as you gather yourself together. "You won't regret it!"

That's the saddest part - she really won't. Jiyeong has been daydreaming about Jeongguk since he first started using the gym a few years back. Only ever silly things. Little scenarios. Never put much weight behind them, 'cause he didn't seem too interested - but she did always compare guys she dated to him.

When her ex had forgotten their anniversary last year, she'd thought to herself, 'I bet Jeongguk wouldn't forget.' She'd be right. He wouldn't.

In fact, on the day Jeongguk's membership had been renewed, he came into the gym with a box of doughnuts from the bakery cafe he loves so much - the one he recently showed you. Had left a note for the team - 'treat yourself. thanks for keeping me in check for the last two years. here's to the next!' - and, in turn, had left all of the female trainers swooning. Some of the guys, too.

In Jiyeong's eyes, Jeongguk could be the perfect guy.

If you were to give it any serious thought, maybe you'd realise that, too.

Life is too busy to get bogged down with such trivial ponderings, mind you. Tae's art show is all you can focus on, and Jeongguk's so busy with school these days that you barely get a chance to actually chat. Quality time between the pair of you dwindles.

Quality time is spent together separately, in the form of endless thoughts of one another. He often sits in his lectures and wonders what you'd think of his lecturer's novelty ties. Thinks you'd probably quite like them. Would start buying him them, 'cause you'd find it funny.

There's a girl who sits a few rows away from Jeongguk who wears glitter a bit like you do. Your styles are different, and he finds it annoys him. He's never been one to have opinions on women's fashion and would never try to dictate anyone's personal style - but he likes how you wear your glitter, and think she'd look better if she did it more like yours. Almost suggested your favourite brand to her - then realise his unsolicited opinion would not be cared for. 

So he sits, and he stews, and he simmers. Thinks of you, but doesn't text. Too caught up in his work. Heads straight from the library to Dionysus. Wore the same shirt three days in a row until he realised how long it had been and could feel his skin crawl from the idea of it being unclean.

Funny. Hasn't washed his sheets yet. Doesn't seem to mind them being unclean. 

Not when your perfume is caught on the delicate cotton threads that give him comfort as he sleeps. Not when his nose nestles into the scent of your shampoo on his pillows. Not when he hugs them in the night and accidentally dreams about you. Not when he wakes up with a hard cock, and not when he wanks himself off thinking about the way it feels to bury himself inside you, suffocated by your hair, his arms wrapped around your back. 

Sometimes, when he lets his fantasies get the better of him, he pretends he knows what it feels like to kiss you. Kind of embarrassing whenever he cums and realises he's kissing the fucking air. Really lame, actually. 

And so he doesn't tell you not to arrange the blind date.

He thinks he's just kiss-deprived. Get kissed, stop thinking about you. Foolproof.

Funny. When Jeongguk picks you up to head to the Min's for dinner, you wonder if it's too late to cancel. Not on Mins. On the date.

The thought is brief, but you shake it away regardless. You want Jeongguk to be happy. It's worth more to you than the release of an orgasm. It's a worthy sacrifice.

He's dressed down - a pair of jeans and a white shirt, boots laced up on his feet, tattoos out. A dark denim jacket is on the passenger seat, so you just tuck it on your lap and make no complaint when he asks to stop by the store en route. Had forgotten he said he'd bring dessert. Was only reminded when he saw you clutching two bottles of wine as your offering to the hosts.

Chewing down on his bottom lip as he tries to decide between cheesecake and some kind of tart, his lip ring catches under the store lights. Gets you glancing over at him from across the aisle. He's leant over slightly reading the labels, hands in his pockets. Feels your gaze on him. Turns his head, and smiles, dark doe eyes warm even in the pits of winter. 

"Should I just get both?" He calls over.

You don't answer immediately, instead walking over to look at them, too. He stands straighter, and draws you closer, a hand on your waist to dictate your movements. Hums as he moves you to stand in front of him, and rests his elbows on your shoulders, clasping his hands together beneath your chin. 

"Part of me thinks cheesecake will be enough," he considers out loud, sharing his thought with you. Hair up in a messy ponytail, loose hairs framing your face, Jeongguk lets his nose nestle against it. Just likes the way your shampoo smells.

"How many people are gonna be there?" You ask.

"Me, you," he begins to list. "Seoyeon, Yoongi. Tae, Jimin, Joon, usual suspects. I'm not sure if they've invited anyone else. Maybe Nabi."

"Nabi?" You question, unfamiliar with the inherently feminine name.

"Tae's friend," he clarifies. "She went to uni with him."

"I've never met her," you say, not really for any purpose other than to share your train of thought.

"You haven't?" He asks, almost certain you must have bumped into her at Dionysus before. She's there pretty often. Less so now that Hayun isn't there. Jeongguk avoids mentioning the part where they're best friends. "She's cool. A bit loud for my taste, but good fun. Great at beer pong. You'll like her."

"I'm good at beer pong," you say, almost as an automatic reflex. You shouldn't feel the need to compete and yet you are. Your nose scrunches, face cringing when you realise how pathetic it sounds. Jeongguk laughs. 

"You can 1v1 tonight."

"Or," you hum, trying to go back on your sudden declaration. You've already made a mental enemy of Hayun. You cannot do it again. "Me and Nabi can team up. Go against you and Joon."

"Oh, you're on," he grins. Doesn't realise it, but he shuffles a little closer. "Hope you're ready to lose."

"I never lose," you tease, turning your head slightly. The proximity of his face to yours is a little too close. Makes it hard to choose where to look. You aim for his eyes, but are distracted by the way he toys with his lip ring. 

"No?" he asks quietly. There's no need for volume. His lips are so close you can practically feel them on your skin. "There's a first time for everything."

Your heart is practically in your throat. You're scared to talk. Don't think you can. Think the only thing your lips can do is close - but you're scared they'll betray you. Stray from your rules.

Sure, maybe you shouldn't fuck your friends - but fucking is just fucking. Kissing is weighted. It's heavy. And in the bakery aisle of a supermarket? It's domestic. Romantic . 

He nudges his nose against yours like he so often does, and simply says, "the cheesecake is enough, right?"

He pulls away, and leans across to grab it from the shelf. It's so often you cutting those moments short. It should have been you. And yet you're a little transfixed as Jeongguk ruffles your ponytail and heads in the opposite direction. 

"C'mon, B. We're running late."

When he asks you about the date in the car on the way to Yoongi's, you know you're doing the right thing. 

He seems excited. Hopeful. You'd be a terrible friend if you took that away from him all because you like fucking him. You've fucked him once (on a technicality). It's not enough to justify it.

And so you don't. Instead, you enthuse with him. Give him advice on what to wear. Practise dumb topics of conversation, just so that he won't run out of any. Promise him a way out if he needs one, but assure him that he won't.

"Just drop me a text and change my name in your phone to 'mother' or something. I'll call and you can use it as a get-out-of-jail-free card. You won't need it, though," you repeat. "You're gonna do great. I promise."

The drive to the Min's takes the best part of an hour from Jeongguk's.

Yoongi lives towards the top of the city, in a slightly more rural area than the rest of the boys. It's so he can grow his own wood, but the saplings are still in their first few years. He'll be waiting a fair while until he can actually make his vision come to life, but he's patient. Understands that good things come to those who wait - after all, he'd had a crush on Seoyeon for years before he ever made a move.

Neighbours as kids, they'd moved away for university and somehow always found their way back together. Winter vacation was spent going to the pub, just so that they had an excuse to walk home together and tiptoe around awkward goodbyes. Summers, too.

Until, one winter, Yoongi didn't come home. He stayed at university to finish a project, and Seoyeon ended up at his door with two beers in one hand and her heart in the other.

Jeongguk looks up to Yoongi for many reasons, and is part of the reason he thinks he romanticised the idea of Hayun so much. He'd seen how good it could be to fall in love with your best friend. Never realised it could fuck him up so badly, too.

Yoongi wears a tiny little plait in his hair, hidden deep in his layers, but ever-present. It's there as he opens the door, and greets you both.

You've noticed it a few times. Always thought it was a little quirk of his - but as Seoyeon rushes to greet with you a smile that could warm even the coldest hearts, you notice the neat little plaits tying back the hairs that frame her face.

They're secured with the same teeny tiny baby pink bands that Yoongi's plait is fastened with. 

They're her plaits. Even the one in his hair.

She gives him one every evening after his shower when they're getting ready for bed - and he keeps it in because he adores the reminder of the woman he loves.

She calls your name, and instantly opens her arms to embrace you in a tight hug. 

"I've heard so much about you!" She squeezes. "Welcome, welcome. How was the journey? You make it all okay?"

"Yeah, all good," you smile. "Jeongguk drove, so it was no bother. Thank you for having me!"

"Oh, of course, of course," she beams, ushering you inside. Yoongi heads into the kitchen to check on the food that's been left on the hob. The rest of the boys and Nabi are already out the back, sipping on beers, talking nonsense.

The midnight black cat curled up on their couch stirs, and stares you out for a moment, before deciding he doesn't want to waste his energy on another human. Has already had to deal with Tae's cooing. Shuts his eyes again, and settles himself back to sleep. Seoyeon catches your line of vision and smiles at the kitty.

"Don't mind Oduun. He's not much of a people person - you don't mind cats, do you?"

"Not at all," you shake your head. Behind you, Jeongguk smiles as he hooks your coat up. "I love them."

"Good! Cat person or dog person?" she asks with a smile so soft it's impossible to imagine how Yoongi could ever frown. In her presence, he doesn't, really.

It's a surface-level question, one that really doesn't mean that much, but when Jeongguk grips your shoulders and speaks for you - "Dogs. She loves dogs." - you can't help but feel bizarrely pleased by the fact he remembers.

He squeezes his palms gently, the pressure on your shoulders a faint reminder of the way he'd stood with you in the supermarket. As you turn your head to catch his gaze over your shoulder, he smiles. Close-lipped, pushed deep into his cheeks, dimples prevailing. His lip ring does the thing.

You ignore the way your stomach does it, too.

From the kitchen, Yoongi watches with a bemused smile. Wonders how long it will take the both of you to realise. Says nothing - but secretly, Seoyeon's wondering the exact same thing. Questions why Yoongi never mentioned the fact you're dating.

"Yeah," you confirm, unaware of the conclusions being drawn. "Love both, but grew up with dogs."

"Me too," Yoongi joins the conversation. He casually strolls towards the sofa and leans over to scratch behind Oduun's ear. The cat knows instantly who it is, and tips his head into Yoongi's touch. "Always thought I'd be a dog person, but these little fuckers get ya. One minute you'll 'never get a cat', the next you're stuck in the same spot for hours on end because apparently your stomach is the perfect place for a nap."

He glances over to Seoyeon, who's already looking at Yoongi as if he's just personally announced he's found the solution for world peace - although, within their household, Sunday nights curled up with a glass of red, Oduun on Yoongi's lap with Seoyeon resting on his chest is world peace. Or at least, it's as close as Yoongi thinks he'll ever get. Cherishes the life he lives; and those he lives it with.

A look is exchanged between the pair of them, fast and fleeting so as to not get too wrapped up in one another; an acknowledgement that they've got it good. Got what people dream about. What people spend lifetimes wishing for. What Jeongguk once thought he had - and you, too, with Jin.

You don't think Seokjin ever looked at you like that. Not really.

Seoyeon takes the bottles of wine you're carrying from you, and offers you a glass. You gladly accept. Realistically, you're surrounded by friends, but feel a little nervous. Nothing a little liquid courage can't fix.

The Moscato is still cold despite the fact it was in your lap for the entire drive, crisp and sweet all at the same time. Your favourite wine, it's easy to drink. Goes down like grape juice. Has Seoyeon offering you a second glass not even twenty minutes later, but she's matching you.

It puts you at ease. Makes it easier for you both to open up - not that she was ever closed off. She really is the sunlight to Yoongi's gloom. The perfect couple, you think candidly. Eventually, you tell her so - which has her gushing over stories from their youth. You listen with keen ears.

"Not coming to say hello?" Tae grins at you when he enters the kitchen a little while later. You haven't been outside yet, too busy chatting with Seoyeon by the stove. 

"You've got a pair of legs, don't you?" You tease, which earns a small laugh from them both. 

"And here I am, using them to come and say hello," he says merrily. Truthfully, he came in to grab another beer. "You should come join."

Everyone else is outside by the small firepit. It's rare to have garden space in the city, even in the outskirts. Yoongi and Seoyeon are lucky. You know you shouldn't waste the opportunity. 

You glance over to Seoyeon who ushers you out. 

"Go, go! Nabi will keep you safe," she assures you.

Nabi. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Legs for days, dark hair that frames her sharp face and a laugh that could lure sailors to their deaths, she's devastating. Gorgeous. And as she cracks a joke that gets even Yoongi smirking, you know she's got a personality to match. 

When she sees you emerge with Tae she smiles. You don't know her to be able to tell if it's sincere, but you hope it is. Jeongguk pretends like he's not watching the interaction. He knows he should really be the one to introduce you, but Tae's right there with you. 

Truthfully, Jeongguk's been avoiding Nabi's messages lately. When she asks what he's been up to, he never mentions you. 

It's stupid because you're just friends, and he's allowed them, but he hates the idea of Hayun hearing about you. Hates how devasted he was when he heard she was dating someone new. Somehow thinks maybe it will hurt her too, when she comes to learn that there's someone else who gets to see the dumb memes he finds funny first. 

The loss of a lover is hard, but the loss of a best friend? Incomparable. When they're one and the same? Indescribable. 

Tae holds your shoulders. It doesn't feel the same as it does when Jeongguk grips them. He introduces you. Describes you as 'the person responsible for making his dreams come true', which earns a laugh from Jeongguk.

"S'what happens when you make a wish on a shooting star," he mumbles, taking a swig on his drink. No one else hears. 

"Nabi," she introduces herself. "How'd you know the boys? I'm surprised I've not seen you around before."

None of the boys realise the slight judgement in her tone. You pretend you don't. Smile. Sit across from her between Jimin and Yoongi. 

Jeongguk is next to Yoongi. He's pretending now that he's involved in Tae and Joon's conversation. He's not. He's eavesdropping. 

"Went to the same gym as Jeongguk," you say because it isn't a total lie. It's how the boys think you all met. You're putting on your best smile, and hope that Nabi warms up to you. "He sort of introduced me to the rest of them. I can't believe we haven't had the chance to meet before! I've heard so much about you."

Another lie. Jeongguk hides the awkward face he wants to pull. Knows Nabi was unknown to you. Appreciates you trying to make it seem like you weren't blindsided. 

"You must be pretty close then?" she smiles, ignoring the way you're buttering her up. "If he introduced you to everyone else?"

"Our paths crossed a lot," you reply, a little drier than before. God, you need another drink - so you crack a joke about it. "And hey - being friends with a bartender has perks, doesn't it?"

"Must have done," she simply nods, not acknowledging your joke, and then turns her attention to Taehyung. Is done with the conversation. It leaves you feeling awkward. Out of place. 

You chalk it up to her being territorial. It's always weird when someone new joins a preexisting group. It could alter the dynamic. Personally, you don't think it has. Nor does anyone else. 

All you know for sure is that beer pong is off the cards.

Jimin quickly distracts you with trivial questions about Tae's upcoming show. You're thankful for it. Regardless of whatever happened between the pair of you, he's a good guy. Could be a great one.

Drinks flow, and the evening eases into itself. Jeongguk does his best to not swamp you. Wants you interacting with everyone as much as possible. He gets you to himself often, so wants to give you the chance to branch out. Wants you integrated into his life as much as possible, 'cause he doesn't want to lose you when the time comes for the deal to be done. 

He watches on with casual curiosity after dinner as you natter with Seoyeon.

He doesn't actually know what the topic of conversation is - but he knows you. Knows Seoyeon, too. Knows that you'll be talking about things that will go straight over his head. Silly, inconsequential things - like star signs, or obscure actors from the early noughties - that mean nothing, but in the early development of friendships mean everything. Common ground. Bonds.

"Get along, don't they?" Jeongguk muses when Yoongi comes to stand beside him with a fresh beer. Jeongguk doesn't change his line of vision, even as he accepts the cold bottle, nor when he takes a swig back.

"Course they do," Yoongi says. Seoyeon gets along with everyone. He never doubted the pair of you would be fast friends. Isn't sure why Jeongguk seems too concerned over it. He isn't naive though. Is aware of Nabi's frosty introduction. Is glad Seoyeon would never be like that to a person she barely knows. "Relax, Gguk. Everything's fine."

And that's exactly the problem. Everything is fine.

What's to say that him dating won't change that?

But neither of you are willing, nor able, to fulfil the other's needs. Not really. He needs to learn how to date again, and you need to learn how to be okay alone.

"I've a date," Jeongguk eventually says after a moment of stewing, chewing on his cheek. "Tomorrow, actually."

Yoongi smiles. About bloody time.

"Where are you taking her?"

"Not sure," Jeongguk admits. "Byeol's sort of arranged it all."

"Proactive," Yoongi grins, sipping down on his beer. Thinks Jeongguk needs a girl who can take the driver's seat from time to time. "Who asked who?"

"Hmm?" Jeongguk hums. "I guess B. Neither of us really did the asking."

"So it just kind of, came about?" Yoongi clarifies. "Sometimes that's better. Things falling into place naturally... yeah. That's good."

Jeongguk hides a short laugh. Things certainly fell - just, unfortunately, it was a bird that he's not sure he's ready for.

"I'm nervous," he admits quietly. Crosses his arms, still holding his beer. His free hand rubs up his tattooed bicep. It's comforting. Soothing. Eases his woes.

"You've nothing to be nervous about," Yoongi encourages. "The pair of you are good together. It'll be no different to normal. Think about me and Seo-"

"Good together?" Jeongguk interrupts, confusion etched into the lines of his face. He didn't think you'd told anyone. If Yoongi knows who the date is with, then that must mean - "You know who it is? I know them?"

"What?" Yoongi pauses. Is just as confused as Jeongguk is. "...You... Byeol?"

"What?! Oh, God. No. No." Jeongguk shuts Yoongi down immediately, almost as if he's just suggested Jeongguk do a striptease for everyone at the dinner table. "God. Yoongi, no. No. It's a blind date. Byeol's setting it up-"

"Why the fuck would she do that?"

It's sort of funny how affronted they both seem. Jeongguk finds Yoongi's suggestion of him dating you unfathomable. Yoongi finds the idea of Jeongguk dating anyone but you unfathomable.

"Maybe because she doesn't want me to be single and alone forever?"

"No but..." Yoongi pauses. Losing battle, he decides. "Y'know what, nevermind. A blind date. That could be good."

Yoongi absolutely does not think that could be good. Not in the slightest.

Jeongguk nods. "Yeah. I think so. Plus, like, I trust her judgements. I don't think she's gonna set me up with anyone awful."

"What's your criteria?" Yoongi asks. "Take looks and attraction out of the running. What's important to you?"

Jeongguk considers this for a moment. He's not actually given it much thought at all. "Someone a bit low-key, I think."

"Low-key?"

"Mhm. I don't want it, like, all over instagram."

"You mean you just don't want Hayun to see," Yoongi suggests. He's correct, but Jeongguk's never gonna admit to that. "What else?"

"I don't know. Good sense of humour? Kind? The generic shit. It's hard to say. I don't wanna make a defined list and spend the entire date holding them to impossible standards. If they're good enough for Byeol, they're good enough for me."

Yoongi thinks it's funny how he's asking Jeongguk about an imaginary girl, and yet his mind leaps to you, in a roundabout way.

"What am I missing?" You ask when they both look at you a little strangely as walk into the kitchen. 

"Jeongguk's just been telling me Disco Ball is the wrong nickname?" Yoongi teases. He doesn't trust either of your judgements, but he's not gonna berate you for it. You're both old enough to make your own mistakes. Your own bad decisions. "Should be Cupid instead?"

You smile. "Not just yet. We'll have to see if I'm any good at matchmaking."

Yoongi already knows you'll have done a horrible job. Anyone that isn't you is wrong for Jeongguk. He's certain of it.

"We'll see," Yoongi nods. "Now on the subject of Cupid, let me go find my fiance."

You wait until it's just you and Jeongguk left in earshot to throw him a cautious smile. He thinks you look proud. It makes him happy.

"Didn't think you'd tell anyone," you say quietly, toying with a beer cap that's been left on the side, pleased with the progress Jeongguk is making.

"I'm too many beers deep," he tells you as you toss the cap to him. He catches it with ease. "Don't be too proud. I'm just a little loose-lipped."

"Gonna be revealing all your secrets?" You grin, as if you'll use it to your advantage.

He rolls his eyes. Doesn't move when you walk to stand infront of him and prize the cap from his hand. You're nosey. He knows this. "Depends what you wanna know."

You're sort of leaning on him. Toying with the bottle cap against his chest. His hand strokes your back. 

In a friendly way.

"What's on the other paper planes?" You ask without even needing a second to think.

"Oh, and would you look at that? My lips are sealed once more."

"Gguk," you pout, stealing his beer from him to take a sip. He just lets you. Would let you do anything you wanted. 

"Byeol."

"You're so annoying," you tell him, but pay it no mind.

Your hair is still tied up, little wispy strands curling around your neck. It's sweet. 

"You want another drink?"

"Please," you nod.

"Watcha want?" He asks as he turns to look at the bottles lined up on the counter. It's a free for all, drink-what-you-like, kind of situation - again, a testament to their friendship. No worries about keeping tabs on who owes who what. Everything pays itself off in natural cycles.

"Surprise me, Mr Bartender man," you flirt, and so he gets to work on making something out of nothing.

"Are you having fun?" He asks casually, checking a few bottle labels before adding them to the glass. He's free-pouring, and regretfully, you find it really hot.

You nod. "Seoyeon's lovely. Can see why Yoongi is smitten."

Jeongguk smiles. Ignores the fact you don't mention Nabi. "Oh, to have what they have."

"You will," you assure him. "One day, someone's gonna be obsessed with you in the loveliest of ways."

"Obsession isn't good, B."

"Maybe not," you agree. "But if you're not a little bit obsessed, are you really in love?"

It's a flawed argument. Love is many things. Obsession falls into the realm of infatuation.

Jeongguk just grins. Is reminded of the weekend before.

" God, Jeongguk," he begins to imitate you. You already know where this is going. Have expected it since you first said the 'o' word a moment ago. "I'm obsessed with the way you-"

"Oh my fucking Christ, be quiet," you shush him with a giggle, covering his mouth with your hand.

There's a symbiotic nature to the way his body moves with yours. One of his hands is on your hip, the other on the side of your neck, the pair of you swaying ever so gently, like stars dancing through the night sky. 

It's just the alcohol. That's all.

The way you're looking at him? Eyes all wide? Sultry when his grip tightens?

Oh, it's just the alcohol.

Might have happened without the alcohol, but you'll never know for sure, so you'll blame it on that.

"Don't give me those eyes," he whispers, his thumb stroking up from your throat, over your jaw, eventually finding its home on your posy pink cheek. You've a thin sheen of glitter in place of highlight. Jeongguk's careful not to rub it off.

"What eyes?"

"Those ones," he smirks, voice still quiet. "Your bedroom disco ball ones."

"You mean... my normal ones?" You tease, adamant that you're looking at him normally. You just don't realise you've never looked at him normally.

"No..." he mumbles, before loosening his grip and turning his attention back to the drink he's making.

"What?" you giggle, not really thinking as you let your hair down. You'd put it up terribly when you were getting ready. Was all wispy and shit. Needs sorting out.

"Stop," he whines. The smell of your shampoo? Yeah. He's got a semi. You don't notice, though, 'cause he's still diligently trying to make your drink. "I'm trying to focus."

"On?" You ask, a little confused. Again, he seems perfectly focused from where you're standing.

He shakes his head. Can't fight his smile.

"Anything but you."

"And you teased me for being obsessed?" You banter.

"This conversation never happened," Jeongguk insists as he turns to face you with a purple drink in hand. "Less of a starfucker, more of a... starlover? I tried making it into a long drink. Try it. Let me know if it's alright."

You narrow your eyes. The boy is good at distraction techniques.

Taking a sip, you decide you're never having a purple starfucker again. Not if these exist, at least. "Holy shit."

"Good?"

You nod enthusiastically. "So good. Try. You'll have to remember the recipe for your samgyeopsal place."

The way you talk about his dream with such certainty makes Jeongguk feel all kinds of fucked up. Your blind belief in him means more than he could ever articulate - so instead, he just ushers you back to the garden, where everyone else is still nattering away.

"Our friends will probably be wondering where we are," he says.

Funny. 

Him saying that gets you all kinds of fucked up, too, and he doesn't even realise it. That's probably why it gets to you so much. You feel accepted. A part of his life. The seal of approval from everyone important to him.

Well, nearly everyone.

You don't care for Nabi's approval. Hayun's, either.

Naively, you don't imagine you'll ever be in a situation where you need it.

---

Seoyeon is quiet as she comes to stand by Yoongi the next morning.

Her arms hooks around his waist, a cup of warm tea in her other hand, while Yoongi washes crumbs off the dinner plates from the night before. She sighs. Pouts.

"He's not been like that in a while, has he?" she asks.

A name isn't needed, for Yoongi understands exactly who she means.

"No. He hasn't."

The tone of Yoongi's voice is sombre. Heavy. A little cautious in speaking Jeongguk's current state of being into existence.

"Should we be worried?"

"Not sure," Yoongi says. "Looked happy, didn't he?"

Seoyeon nods against the side of Yoongi's chest, the early morning sun casting light where darkness once was. "Really happy. Haven't seen him smile like that since... well, since before Hayun left."

Secretly, Yoongi is pleased Seoyeon isn't calling her 'Yunnie' like she used to do. It's been a recent change; the distance between the girls who were once thick as thieves proving too much for the closeness of their friendship to endure. That, and Seoyeon's also noticed the slight frown on Yoongi's face whenever she refers to Hayun with affection.

Jimin might be the only one of the boys who knows for a fact how much the situation with Hayun had obliterated Jeongguk, but Yoongi was no stranger to his friend's emotions. Knows what Jeongguk looks like after a morning spent crying. Knows that there was a solid month where his gym membership just wasn't used.

It's the reason Yoongi worries. He doesn't want Jeongguk to make the same mistakes again.

Doesn't wanna have to watch the impact his bad decisions have on him.

As you text Jeongguk the location for his date, it seems like you're the one making the bad decisions this time.

Jeongguk:Sure I have to do this?

You:A bird's a bird.

And a bad decision is a bad decision.

You just don't realise it yet.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[dreamwreaver]

@tacsorium I decided to answer in a post because it's too long for a reply.

To answer your question; some of the intrigue might be based on earlier drafts where Charlie was going to have crushes on men (including al) but end the series with a girlfriend. But also, Charlie and Alastor are dark reflections of one another so their dynamic is inherently going to be something that's interesting to watch. I can't say for certain what route they want alastor's potential manipulation to take; however they have already shown us inserting himself as a wedge between Charlie and those who have the potential to be closest to her, namely her father and vaggie. And, romantic or not, Charlie is being set up to be alastor's "person" his exception to all his personal rules. We know he doesn't like being touched without consent and yet he allows Charlie to do as she pleases with him.

As for chaggie, no, I don't feel like they felt like a couple personally. But my issues with that is solely how little vaggie feels like a complete character outside of Charlie that affects my perception of that dynamic. I'm not opposed to them being a couple, but I am annoyed I don't feel as invested as I should. Their relationship is supposed to be a core element and instead it's just... kind of there. And in a show where there's tons of diversity in sexual and orientation it feels like chaggie's relationship should hold more importance.

Lumity is probably not as apt a comparison since we did get to see it develop over two seasons before they actually got together. Did they have episodes where they went on dates? No, did the plot often get in the way of them being happy? Yes. But at the same time it felt like Luz's romantic connection with amity added more stakes instead of none. Falling for a witch was thematic too since it was part of what sent belos himself over the deep end. And here the villain sees what he deems "another poor human" falling for the same trap that took his brother from him. But Luz also doesn't love amity just because she's a witch, we saw at the time that luz and amity originally didn't get along.

One other ship that seems to be more in line which chaggie is Pearl and rose from Steven universe. Right down to the "do it for her" song "whatever it takes". The problem is that Pearl and rose did have thousands of years together, and even still the betrayal of rose deciding to be with Greg and have Steven cut her to the bone. But Pearl was made for Rose, in a very literal sense. Vaggie it feels to some extent would have fallen for the first person to show her kindness in that vulnerable state and it so happened to be Charlie, there's a sense of indebtedness in both situations. The reason it works for Pearl and rose is that part of pearl's journey in steven universe is learning how to be her own gem, her own person, both in and out her romantic relationships.

Vaggie... doesn't get any of that. And fine, whatever, it's not my show. I don't know what Viv has planned next. But I do feel that we can all agree that if they were going to bother to give vaggie her angel wings back (a topic that's a whole other rant) they could have at least paid it off by having Charlie be rescued by her angelic girlfriend instead of Lucifer ex machina once again. Punching Adam in the face was fine, funny even, but love interest rescuing the falling party is like visual story beat basics.

In short, I don't hate chaggie. I just wish the show had given me more to like. Charlastor fills a trope I like of heroine/villain. It's the trope of "I can fix him/I can make her worse". And as an asexual, it's the chance to explore a character who thinks he's above silly things like attraction of any kind to be walloped by feelings and suffer. I really just want to make Alastor suffer is what it comes down to.

Hope this answers any questions you had for me!

[lvrsparadise]

'BLIND' - C.S

| 'WILL YOU?' |

Synopsis - They're so in love with each other, they're oblivious.

Warnings! - Profanity, Y/N being head over heels for Chris (honestly girl me too), they both blind asf, the triplets are in Boston Y/N is in LA still, I think that's all.

A/N - This is basically an apology for my last fic. I am so deeply sorry for those I made cry, here's something to cheer you up. 😋😘😘 Also I'm going to start putting the animal they chose for tour 2 next to the name bc I think it's cool.

This is so difficult. Who knew having a crush on your best friend would be so draining?

The guys just left for the airport and let me stay in their house while they're in Boston for the week. Should be easy, right? I mean I already crash here like almost every day. But being in a place that has essence of Chris, everywhere, makes it kind of hard to breathe.

I'm barely half an hour into Corpse Bride, the movie I put on when they left, when I get a notification from snapchat.

And for some reason, I find myself smiling as I open it. It's from Chris. A picture of him, hood pulled up and headphones over his ears with a little smile on his face. The words 'miss u already' at the bottom.

I save it to my camera roll. I mean, he just looks so good. Like all the time. How can I not? I send one back with a 'miss u 2' with a kiss emoji, as a joke, but not at the same time.

I focus back to Corpse Bride and get comfy on the couch.

----

I'm pretty sure I fell asleep at some point during the movie, because when I wake up, the movie is over and it's dark out now, unlike it was when the triplets left.

I walk to the kitchen and grab a bottle of water and sit back down on the couch. I pick up my phone and see multiple messages, snaps, and Instagram notifications from Chris. At first, I think something's wrong. But instead, it's just him updating where they are in their flight process, some funny shit Nick did, and multiple pictures of him, all of which I save.

The most recent one was a text saying he was going to try and get some sleep with the words 'I love you' at the end with a white heart and the kiss face emoji.

Now when I say I got butterflies and felt my face heat up, I mean I got BUTTERFLIES. How is he real?

I look at the time, it's 12:48, and see I was actually asleep for a few hours instead of just one. I turn the TV off and walk down to Chris's room. It's almost as if being in his room sent a universal message to him, my phone rings from my hand as I get comfy in his comforter.

A facetime call. I answer and is greeted by a smiling Chris.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"How's your flight been so far? You get some sleep?"

"Yeah, I got a little bit. But then some little girl started throwing a tantrum and woke me up."

A quiet chuckle makes its way out of me.

"Damn that sucks."

"What've you been up to?"

"I watched Corpse Bride, or well it watched me because I fell asleep."

This time he chuckles, and it sounds so, angelic to me. Especially in his sleepy voice.

"How close are you guys to Boston?"

"3 hours away."

"That's good."

We sit in silence for a few minutes, I scroll through Instagram, occasionally looking at Chris's face in the corner of my screen.

"You in my room?"

For some reason the question sent a new wave of butterflies in my chest. I nod.

"Yeah. I can't seem to get comfortable on the couch."

I'm not sure if what I said made him happy or if he saw something funny, either way, a smile is now on his face.

We spend the next like, hour on facetime, joking, talking, and just sometimes sitting in silence. Until I fall asleep.

----

I wake up the next morning, phone in front of me and still on, with Chris still on facetime.

By the looks of it, he's in the van with Matt, and they're talking but I can't hear it. So, he must be on mute.

I yawn and stretch before picking up my phone to see the time. 11:23. Meaning it's 2:23 in Boston.

I get out of Chris's bed and grab my phone, which I don't remember plugging in but is plugged into the charger and walk upstairs to make whatever they have in their cabinets.

Chris, having heard me moving-and-a-grooving, making a whole lot of noise going through the cabinets, seemingly unmutes and speaks.

"Good morning." I look at my phone with a smile as he turns the camera to Matt who says the same thing.

"Good morning to you two as well."

I go back to rummaging through the cabinets.

"Where did Nick hide the cereal? I can't find it."

"Cabinet above the stove, hidden behind the boxes of rice."

"Thank you, Matt."

I open the cabinet and move the rice boxes out of the way and, alas, the Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I grab the box and grab a bowl and pour some in before returning it to its original spot and then pouring some milk in and grabbing a spoon.

I sit at the table at begin to eat, while scrolling through Instagram, duh. I open Chris's story to a screenshot of me, asleep. I laugh and shake my head.

"What're you laughing at?"

"Why do I look so weird when I sleep?" I laugh out as I drop my phone on the table and lean my head in my hands.

"Oh. You saw that. You don't look weird; I think you look quite good to be honest."

My jaw falls open and I pick my phone up to see a small smirk on Chris's face.

I quickly shut my mouth and roll my eyes.

"What? All I said was that you looked good while you were sleeping. Wait- no that sounds weird."

"Yeah, very weird Chris." I hear Matt say.

I snort and finish my breakfast at the same time Matt pulls into the driveway of their house,

"How long you guys been home?"

"About 11-ish hours or so."

"You guys gotten any rest?"

"Chris went to sleep as soon as he reached his room."

"Matt! Don't expose me like that!"

I laugh at both the fact Matt said and Chris not denying it.

"Is that Y/N?" I gasp at the sound of Marylou's voice and Chris moves to his mom and shows her his phone screen. I wave with a big smile.

"Hi Marylou! Miss you!"

"Miss ya too honey!" I love her accent, it's so calming.

----

After about another hour of talking with Chris, Matt, and occasionally, Nick, we hung up and I turned on the triplets YouTube channel, even though I've seen all of their videos already, just to pass time.

It's so weird being here alone. And I'll be here alone for like the next week and a half.

Then, I get a though. What if I hid little things around Chris's room for him to find? But what would I even do?

Without thinking, I walk up to Nick's room and grab some paper and head back downstairs. I sit at the table and make paper origami hearts of all sizes, off of pure memory.

Once I've made at least 20 of them, I grab them and walk down to Chris's room and start hiding them in both plain sight and put some of the bigger ones in hidden places.

But there's a twist. Inside all of the hearts contain little messages and the biggest one has a confession on it. Don't know what came over me to write that but I did. And now I have to wait a week and a half for him to get home and find them.

Tags ! ✮

@dwntwn-strnlo ✮ @ssturniolo ✮ @strniolo ✮ @20nugs ✮ @prettysturniolo ✮

If you want to be added to the list, all you have to do is ask ! ✮

Have a wonderful day and / or night :) ✮

[madbard]

Sanctity

A Killer Sans story.

Every child dreamed of the Angel.

When Sans was young, he had imagined it as a skeleton, beaming with all the radiance of the stolen sun. Each evening, he kneeled beside his father and whispered the poetic words of prophecy, voice faltering at first, then growing steady as the tale of the Angel settled firmly into his skull. Later, he would kneel with his brother while his father vanished into the lab. Each night, he dreamed of the moment when the Angel would tear down the barrier, at last letting the bright and deadly sunshine in.

Everything could be attributed to the Angel. If a monster was successful, it was because they had a place in the prophecy, an important role which would contribute to their eventual freedom. If a monster fell down, it was because they had failed, somehow. They were not the Angel’s chosen and would never be free.

(Did Sans have a place in that prophecy? If he was chosen, then why was he so fragile? Why would it be so difficult for him to make it to that future? Sans had asked his father that one night, after their prayer. Nothing would ever break that silence.)

When Gaster’s final experiment went up in flames, Sans imagined it made a light brighter than the sun. He imagined its light was like the palm of the Angel, taking his father with it – or casting him, finally, into the infinite darkness of the earth. He spread his father’s ashes on the remnants of the lab and then, as an afterthought, on his younger brother’s scarf. He laughed at the funeral, quietly. He shook the chill hands of fear and doubt from his soul. He had faith.

(Some monsters whispered that the prophecy had been interpreted incorrectly. They whispered that the Angel would indeed free them – that their dust would one day mix with the river and thus find its way to the ocean. Sans ignored them as best he could.)

When Sans was young, he had imagined the Angel as a skeleton. But lounging at his post one day in early adulthood, he was surprised to see it take the guise of a child. He was even more surprised when no one else seemed to see it for what it truly was. It turned to him, looked him in the eyes. Then raised a single finger to its lips.

Sans followed the Angel. He watched it navigate through each encounter with kindness and grace. He watched it befriend his brother, the captain of the guard, the royal scientist, and even the king. He watched it destroy the barrier and finally baptize his people in the all-destroying light of the sun. He felt its eyes upon him, and in that moment knew the gaze of something truly unlike himself. Come and see, those eyes said. He saw the prophecy come true.

He stood with his brother in the light of the Angel, the light of the long-awaited sun. For a moment, he thought himself in heaven.

Then he woke in hell.

That first time, he didn’t even see the Angel arrive in Snowdin. His eyelights flickered slowly as he wandered the icy streets in a daze. The air was still, and thick with a scent he refused to recognize. They had escaped, hadn’t they? After years of prayer and service, monsterkind was finally free. His mouth curved around a quiet, desperate prayer. This had to be a dream…

Just outside of Snowdin, he found his brother’s scarf.

Funny, how these things worked. Sans’ first impulse was to find the Angel. Something had gone wrong, certainly – something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. But he had seen the Angel treat his brother with kindness. It would have protected him… right?

Perhaps he already knew…

“Sans.”

Sans spun around, gripping Papyrus’ scarf. The Angel stood behind him, eyes almost as wide as its smile. A silver knife glinted in its grip. His whispered prayer froze as his eyes went dark. He stood still.

“what happened?”

“Nothing much. And everything.” The Angel stepped forward. “Give that to me.”

“where’s papyrus?”

“Free.” The Angel took another step forward, and Sans felt a chill creep up his spine. “You remember being free, don’t you?”

“i…”

“Don’t you want to be free again?” This time, Sans didn’t have time to respond. Its knife had already slashed through his chest.

The second time, Sans woke in the early hours of the morning. He took a shortcut into the woods, stepping onto the abandoned path which led to the hidden door. Even so, he didn’t quite understand. Even so, he didn’t quite believe. Fear made a nest in his ribcage.

This time, the Angel killed him first, separating his head from his shoulders, and Sans woke up back at home.

If a monster fell down, it was because they had failed, somehow. Sans fell again and again. Each time he died, the Angel would say something different, something new. It spoke of the sun’s rays, the way they warmed at first then burned and bleached and ruined. It spoke of the sins of the surface, the suffering of the Underground. It spoke of an endless loop, from which they would never be free. “Better to end it now,” the Angel whispered, wiping blood from its blade as Sans crumpled to the ground.

The loop continued endlessly. Bit by bit, Sans stopped praying.

The loop continued endlessly. He began to fight back.

The loop continued endlessly. The angel’s words changed.

“Do you know the difference between an angel and a god?” the Angel asked once, after Sans dodged its blade. Sweat dripped down his skull, and the air seemed to frost his ribcage as he gasped for breath.

“sorry. i god no idea.” The knife whistled past his ear, and a hushed “angel’s sake” escaped his mouth before he growled and swallowed the word.

“I’ll give you a hint.” It attacked once more, and this time it didn’t miss. It walked over to his dissolving form and whispered to him. “An angel is a servant. A god serves no one.” It stepped back. He died.

This time, the Angel approached him with an altogether different kind of smile.

“But what is a god without an angel?”

Sans said no in every way he could imagine. Loop after loop, death after death. He joked and danced around the question. He sent another attack. At his lowest, he pretended he hadn’t heard.

“Angels live forever.”

“when everyone else is dead?”

“Angels are never alone.”

“i wouldn’t be alone if it wasn’t for you.”

“Angels are powerful. They are beautiful and loved.”

“heh, that’s kind of a loaded comment, isn’t it?”

“Angels know their purpose.”

“what would a lazybones like me want with a purpose?”

“Gods are tireless. I can keep going forever, and nothing will ever change.”

“…”

“You were made to serve me.”

The funny thing about prayer? Repetition makes it meaningless. There is performance to it, certainly. There is what prayer symbolizes, there is the essential power of routine. But once the words become instinctive, the meaning can’t help but diminish. After enough repetition, prayer becomes little more than muscle memory for the weary. And when the weary recite it, how then can they hope to see God?

Sans kneeled in the hallway, bones aching, magic all but spent. Somewhere before this moment lay the memory of the sun, the way he had rested in its blinding light. Even before that, the echoes of evenings spent in prayer with his father, torn carpet barely cushioning his bones. Those memories were lost now, or buried. So many deaths – had there truly been anything before this? Could there ever be anything after? Sans didn’t know. Eventually, he no longer cared.

“and if i said yes?”

It paused and stared at him. A chuckle started low in its throat, stopped just behind its teeth. Sans wished he could feel a twinge of anger or fear at the sound. He just felt tired.

“Just for one round. Just to try something new.”

“somehow i don’t believe you.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that makes a difference.” The god stepped forward, knife glinting in its hand. Sans closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow. Instead, he felt the warm handle slide into his skeletal grip. “Go forth, my angel. Do as your god commands.”

There was a momentary darkness. He woke at the foot of his bed, hands folded. Eyes dark.

When Sans was young, he had imagined the Angel as a skeletal figure. After maturing, he discarded that image as a figment of childhood’s vivid ego. For a moment in time, doesn’t every child worship a god that looks like them?

Sans was not a god. Through the snow, the water and the flame, he became the angel of death. The flash of his knife answered prayers, scattered dust in the river that it may one day reach the ocean. He remained by his god, always. He watched, as if outside himself, as his knife found the faithful and the faithless alike. He watched his brother die.

“That prayer, in his final moments – you know, before he forgave and spared you. Didn’t you teach him that?”

“…”

“Aw, don’t be like that. It’s hypocritical when you’re the one that killed him.”

“shut up.”

“Ooh.” The god smiled and leaned forward. “But it’s new, isn’t it? Isn’t it better?”

“no. no, it isn’t.”

“Hm.” The god nodded. “Do it again.”

The funny thing about prayer? Its meaning is only found through repetition. Sans scoured through the Underground again and again, knife faltering at first, then growing steady as the path of the Angel settled firmly into his skull. He made a sacrament of death, and his god glutted itself on the dust in his path. He became something truly unlike himself – did that now make him holy?

Holy enough, he decided, waking among flowers with his soul burning bright outside his body, a strange tarry fluid dripping from his eyes. Holy enough for this.

It seemed to know what he was planning. At least, it didn’t look surprised when he brandished his weapon. Nor did it fight back. It only spoke. “You know, you were nothing before me. And you will be nothing after.”

How easy, to kill a god. In the end, how stupidly simple. The Angel laughed as he killed his god with its own gleaming knife, and it laughed too, bright blood staining its teeth.

“i killed you.” The Angel giggled. “does that make me god now?” The god lay still. Its chest had stopped moving a long time ago. The Angel finished his prayer anyway. He had to be certain. “actually, nah, not sure i like that… hey, i’ll figure it out.” The Angel rose to his feet, staggered a bit, then bowed his head. “go to hell.”

What is an angel without a god? From then on, the Angel drifted from world to world. He recited prayer as he always did, utterly divorced from meaning. His knife brought whatever his victims chose, and he learned to see the afterlife in their dimming eyes – the reflection of paradise or punishment, a final acknowledgment of the waiting dark. He laughed in the moment before a creature crumpled to dust – something about it made his soul sting, sharply. It made him feel alive.

Sometimes the Angel would glance over his shoulder, searching for his god’s approval. When he caught himself doing this, his posture would stiffen suddenly, and he would cease his prayer. In those rare moments, a victim might escape. In that way, news spread through the multiverse of his arrival – though ‘Angel’ was not the word they used.

Even to the multiverse’s darkest corners, the Angel slowly became known, and this filled certain people with a cool excitement. Gods watched on and wondered where his allegiance might fall. But this Angel had little patience for deities.

“Aren’t you just fantastic!” The Angel paused, then straightened, turning through the snow of decimated universe to face a small, skeletal figure, dressed in a stained scarf and splattered with ink. “A Sans who no longer believes in anything, but still sees himself as the Angel! A Sans for whom death has become prayer, because prayer never led to anything but death. Odd, definitely – I’d guess your creator was feeling pretty ambitious when they made you…” The skeleton tilted their head. “I’m not sure they succeeded.”

“who are you?”

“Ink! God of Creation. You see, I helped make this universe, so… whoa there, let’s not be too hasty!’ The Angel had raised his knife and taken a smooth step forward.

“god, you say?”

“Hm. Maybe I shouldn’t have said – wow, you’re quick!” Ink swung a massive brush through the air and the Angel’s knife skittered across the brushstroke’s obsidian surface. “Look, sloppy or not I think you came from a place of real excitement and love! I’d like to –”

Ink never finished his sentence. Blinking, the Angel darted around the obsidian shield and raised his knife to stab this god in the chest. He managed to spill a vial of red paint, so much like blood that he smirked, believing for a moment that he had already won. Retribution was brutal and swift.

The Angel no longer felt fear. His god had cured him of that, through the endless resets. Still, Ink’s rapid-fire attacks quickly had him on the defensive, constantly dodging and side-stepping to avoid strike after inky dark strike from the god’s strange weapon. Each time he brandished his knife, he was ambushed by a new attack from a new direction, all coinciding on his form as he struggled to fight back, struggled to survive.

Was this the true power of a god? Something cold settled in the Angel’s soul, causing it to fizzle. He began to seriously consider retreat.

But to where?

The Angel tried to step into another world, but Ink was on him the moment his portal closed, taking advantage of the snow’s blinding afterimage to dig a painted blade into his back. It was dark here, and cold – far colder than Snowdin ever had been. Another blow, and the Angel’s soul shuddered again. This time, he felt fear.

Was this it? Was this where he died?

Another blow.

Perhaps this was right. Perhaps this was what he deserved…

Another blow and sparks flew from his soul, igniting terror and pain. This time the Angel screamed. This time, his mouth shaped a word he’d sworn to never say again.

“ANGEL!!!”

Ink lunged forward, but before his final blow could land something warm and strong gripped the Angel’s ankle and dragged him into the infinite darkness of the earth.

When the Angel woke, he imagined for a moment that he was dead. His sockets could not focus because there was nothing to focus on – the world seemed to have vanished into a brilliant white expanse. He lay there, soul burning, weeping black, emotionless tears. A minute? A year? If the figure hadn’t spoken, the Angel might have lain there forever.

“Greetings, little angel. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The Angel leapt to his feet. Across from him stood a strange, dark figure. At first, he might have guessed that it was a skeleton – but a tarry black fluid not unlike the Angel’s tears covered every bit of the monster’s body, leaving only a single teal light to stare into his sockets. The Angel might not have recognized Ink’s power, but he could feel this monster’s strength – could feel it in the way the very air seemed to bristle against his presence. This was no mortal. This was beyond anything the Angel had seen.

“what have you heard?”

“In general? Ah, little one, that would require some time.” A fluid black tentacle slipped from the creature’s spine and wrapped around the Angel’s shoulders, immobilizing him. The Angel was still. “But you were asking what I had heard about you. So I will oblige. I have heard that you are a harbinger of death. Some have gone so far as to call you an angel, but I know better than that. After all, what is an angel without a god?”

“i already killed my god. i don’t need another.”

“I do not desire your worship. Besides, there is a title which suits me far better than god.”

“what do you want?”

“A fighter. Someone with little respect for the likes of Dream and Ink, who would aid me in destroying my enemies.”

“you want me to kill gods for you? i would do that anyway.”

“Well then, little god-killer. I have a place for you, if you’ll take it.”

“…and if i say no?”

“Then I shall leave you in the first universe that opens up beneath our feet. You will be free to cause whatever destruction you wish. But if you choose to follow me – oh, you will see and experience far greater things than you could ever imagine.”

“somehow i don’t believe you.”

“Very well. You may return to your dreary existence. But you are limited when you fight alone. You will be more powerful at my side.” The figure extended a tarry hand. “I am not like the other gods. I have no need for angels. But you aren’t exactly an angel anymore… are you?”

The god killer stared at the dark figure, stared at his extended, toxic hand. The dead grass beneath his knees felt like torn carpet. He remembered a different hand, a hollow palm. Prayer was simpler then. The words didn’t yet matter, not like his father’s cool hand on his skull, not like his brother’s chirping voice. The angel wasn’t present in that space. It was only them.

His soul flickered.

“no.” Killer rose to his feet, meeting those deadly teal eyelights. Viscous black fluid burned into his hand. “i’m not.”

The prophecy was fulfilled. The Angel was dead. And for the first time, a prayer was granted.

End credits music:

[satans-helper]

Cross My Heart & Hope To Die

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: angst, arguing, Sam being a dick, toxic relationship, dirty talking, oral sex, unprotected PIV sex, can be interpreted as hate-fucking tbh. 18+ ONLY!

A/N: I realized after the Cleveland show that whenever I see the boys live, I spend the majority of my time watching Danny (no surprise) and a good chunk of what's left watching Sam. His stage presence really is intoxicating for me--he has this very quiet but very intense allure and sex appeal. So needless to say, I've been inspired (also thanks to the song Borderline by Tove Lo for fueling that inspiration). Now, I've only ever written one groupie fic before and it was also a Sam fic; by default, I actually kind of hate them. But this fic here was just the story I had in mind. Hope you enjoy ;)

---

That first time you’d seen Sam up there, aglow in dizzying arrays of rainbow light, shimmering in white and silver satin and silk, he looked so much like an ethereal angel. You’d immediately been lost in the catharsis that radiated from his own performance to everyone else–you could imagine how wrapped up in the stardom and music he was, with the constant moves of his body and inadvertently sex-drenched facial expressions while he plucked his bass or when those long fingers slid across the keys. It was like you could see every note flowing through him.

You weren’t alone in the trance, but you certainly felt like you were the only one there–the crowd had disappeared and you were on your own, standing in the dark, the only thing in your field of vision being that glorious being. “Starstruck” didn’t even begin to cover it, and when that angel’s gaze found your own, you were smart enough to not assume it was actually real–Sam wasn’t looking at you. So when later on, he’d found you and had truly looked at you and only you, his gaze had dove deep down into your bones and you knew you were a goner.

You hadn’t known what to expect. Who could say what any of those boys were like when the music was over and they were stripping down their real selves? At first, the silliness that Sam showed you was even more alluring than the silent siren that graced the stage night after night; he was funny, endearing and even chivalrous at times. He didn’t treat you like some random girl who just happened to have won the lottery with that chance encounter. He’d made the first move. Things happened. He called you all the pet names, bought you all the gifts, texted you all the things, made you feel like you were a part of the team. Like you were together. Because he said you were.

But as time went on, you felt a distance inching outward between the two of you. You heard from him less, saw him even less than that and when you did see him, you no longer felt like you were the only person in the room with him. You found yourself asking why you were sticking around–you were beginning to feel like some joke, just some groupie Sam was stringing along. Was it even worth it when he could be doing the same thing with other girls? You couldn’t full discount that–it stuck like a thorn in your side. But every time you saw him behind that bass or on those keys, the brilliant angel was back, sparkling like a lone star, and your heart beat fast and hard with an insatiable need to keep him for yourself no matter what.

You were still buzzing after the show–the US tour was done, which meant you’d have some real time with Sam before Europe kicked off. Or so you hoped. It’s what your mind was holding onto regardless of what was going on in Sam’s own. You’d wanted to meet him backstage like the other partners did, but Sam had requested you wait in his hotel room so, like the dutiful girlfriend you wanted to always be, you were doing just that. Sitting on the couch, tapping your foot, staring out the window and wishing to see your brilliant angel.

You were patient. You sat for what felt like an eternity. You checked your phone but you didn’t text him, didn’t call. He’d come when he was ready, so you waited some more until the door clicked in the middle of the dark midnight hours, you half-asleep against your own will. 

At the sound of the door actually opening, you jolted into sudden full-consciousness, shooting up from the couch. Sam laughed; he wasn’t in dazzling white and silver anymore. He looked almost ordinary, but just almost. You knew you’d hit the jackpot by getting with one of the most beautiful and fawned over rising musicians. Rock gods. That’s what they all were. And Sam was an enigma–so many facets to his personality. So much that went on in his head that almost no one knew about. 

That rough, raw laugh echoed in your ears and made your skin tingle. “You’re back,” you said, wobbling slightly on your feet. It really was late and you really were tired, but energy was steadily streaming back into your veins at the sight of him. 

Sam strode over to you with ease, like he didn’t just spend two and a half hours in front of 35,000 people. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, sighing into your hair. “Sorry it took so long, kitten. Everyone wanted to go out for drinks.”

Then you could smell the lingering scent of beer on him. You looked up to ask, “You went out?” 

Sam released his hold, suddenly putting nearly a foot of space between the two of you. “Just for a couple beers. I couldn’t get myself out of it.” 

That was definitely a lie. You now were doubting that Josh, Danny and Jake even knew you had been waiting at the hotel–if they’d known, there was no way they wouldn’t have gotten you to go out too. You tried not to let the hurt show on your face but it definitely did, because Sam let out a huff and raised his eyebrows at you. You hated when he did that. It made you feel like a child. 

“I would’ve gone out with all of you too,” you said, literally and figuratively standing your ground. You weren’t in the mood to argue but you also weren’t in the mood to feel like a doormat again. Being left out felt worse than anything. “If you’d just asked me.”

Sam’s mouth twitched as you saw a flicker of frustration move over his face, but then he sighed again. He pulled you back into his arms and said, “You’re right. I’m sorry, Y/N. I was an asshole.”

You could have just let it go but the pent up energy from waiting around–and it not being the first time–wouldn’t allow that. Anger bubbled up in your chest and tears broke through, streaming down your temples which made you feel even worse. Pathetic and stupid. “Sometimes it’s like you don’t even like me, Sam,” you said, pushing him away, hastily wiping the tears away. Your makeup was already ruined and you just wanted the stupid outfit you’d put on off your body now. Who even cared? 

“How can you say that?” Sam asked when you sat down on the couch and looked down at your feet, still struggling to stop the tears. “I chose you.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, of course you did. Like that means anything.” It was too late–the torrent of resentment was running wild now. “I saw you with that girl in New York. I saw you with that waitress in Detroit.” You lifted your hips and pulled down your tights. If you were going to argue, you could at least be comfortable.

“Jesus, Y/N, where is all this coming from?” Sam asked, still standing, running a hand through his hair like this was exhausting for HIM.

You stood up, fumbling with the zipper on your dress for a minute; Sam approached and tried to help but you scooted away. “You used to make me feel like I was the only one in the room with you,” you told him, managing to get unzipped on your own, sliding the stupid dress down to kick aside. At least if you were busy changing, you didn’t have to make eye contact. “Now I just feel so stupid. You just got some groupie to sleep with whenever you want. And I bet I’m not the only one.”

“That’s not true,” Sam replied heatedly. You still weren’t looking at him, resigned to rifle through your suitcase for pajamas. It was going to be a long night and you didn’t even want to sleep in the same bed as him right now but you couldn’t ask to bunk with anyone else. Only Danny was riding solo, but that was definitely not an option. He grabbed your arm, stopping you from retrieving your favorite sleep t-shirt–a weathered and worn From the Fires t-shirt that you’d had since the early days, before you even knew Sam as a real person. “You need to believe that. I’ve never cheated on you.”

You shook him off and pulled the t-shirt over your head, then wiped at your eyes again. The tears had mostly stopped but the anger was still brewing, making you feel hot and tight inside. “How would I even know? I can’t be with you like other girlfriends. Sometimes you don’t text me for days.”

“I hate texting and you know that.”

“Good save, Sam,” you retorted. This was going nowhere. You paused as you held your pajama pants in your hands, finally making eye contact with him again. “Maybe I should just leave.”

Sam’s head snapped back a bit in surprise. “And go where?”

“I could book a room for myself,” you said, lying, which he definitely knew. You didn’t have the money for a hotel this nice. What came out next should have remained a fleeting thought but, again, the floodgates had opened: “Or I could ask to stay with Danny. He’s not with anyone.”

It didn’t evoke the reaction you’d expected, but it was probably for the better even though Sam’s actual response stung just the same: “Yeah, right. Once he knew we were fighting, he wouldn’t go anywhere near you.”

You got your pajama pants on. You didn’t know what you were doing though, but what did it matter? You knew you weren’t just being hysterical. This was real shit that Sam had spent way too long not acknowledging. “Your brothers treat me better than you do,” you remarked. That made Sam’s cheeks flare and his eyes darken. 

“If I really thought you were just some slutty groupie, you wouldn’t be in this hotel with me,” Sam said, moving in close again, not giving you any room to maneuver away or even really breathe. “You wouldn’t be coming to shows with us. I don’t know how many times I have to say that you’re with me.”

“I need to wash my face,” you told him, pushing him aside so you could get to the bathroom. You called back, “And it’s not only about saying it, Sam. You have to show me sometimes too.” Thankfully, Sam let you have your privacy in there–you washed the dried tears and flaking mascara away, polished your skin clean until you felt almost refreshed. When you came back out, Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, hair hanging down along with his posture, almost pitiful. Almost like a sad, fallen angel with a pair of broken wings. 

“Okay, fine. I can show you,” he said, sitting up straighter, shaking his hair back. “Just tell me what you want to see.”

Whenever Sam’s softer side revealed itself, you couldn’t help feeling softer in return. Still though, you weren’t feeling ready to give in entirely. You missed how things had once been and if things kept going on their current trajectory, you were just going to be stuck on him but ultimately alone no matter how much he strung you along.

“When we met, I didn’t think it was anything other than just a fan meeting a star,” you told him, satiating some of his despondence by putting yourself in front of him, running your fingers through his hair. “Rock stars aren’t supposed to take their fans seriously. But you did. Why?” 

Sam looked up at you. “Because you took me seriously. You didn’t scream or gawk at me or anything. You just looked at me like I was real.”

“You’re shockingly real, Sam,” you said, petting his hair, running one hand down to rest between his shoulder blades. “So real that just seeing you sometimes makes me feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest.”

Sam wrapped his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap. “Gross. Don’t say that. That’s fucked up.” He pressed his hand over your very real heart. “I don’t wanna hurt you, doll.”

You grabbed a strand of his hair and yanked it just enough to make him jolt. “So don’t hurt me.” 

He glowered at you, the hand on your waist gripping hard. “You know I hate that.”

The strand of his hair became a fistful. “Yeah, well,” you began, craning his head back. “I hate a lot of the things you do to me.” 

Sam thrashed out of your grasp and tossed you to the side, crawling over you, pushing you to the center of the bed. You wanted to laugh, but he looked so serious–of course it took a fight to get him to be the slightest bit vulnerable. But it wasn’t enough and you weren’t in the mood to fuel the fire any longer–if Sam thought he was even a little intimidating, he was wrong. When he hovered over you, the pale yellow light of the lamp on the table behind him made him glow. 

You took his face in your hands, fingertips tracing along his cheekbones down to his jaw, back up to his temples, the faintest touch against his hair. “Where’d my angel go?” you asked, the anger in your chest turning to despairing, longing desire that was never going to go away. It didn’t matter when you and Sam officially ended things–you knew it would happen–because you would always carry him in your cursed, mangled and bleeding heart.

Sam sat back on top of you, thighs around your hips. He drew an invisible halo around his head which made you smile, then held his arms out as if he was spreading invisible wings. That made you laugh, then your vision went to black as he dove down to kiss you. You gave in then, holding him close, your hands pressed against his shoulder blades where those wings would be if they were real.

The soft kisses went on until you were truly calm, body placid beneath his, just grateful to be with him no matter what had led you there. Deeper, harder kisses commenced, with Sam’s tongue sliding over yours and his hands wandering along your upper body, lingering at your breasts just long enough to make you arch your back into touch before he slid his fingers up to your collarbones, then your neck. While the press of his lips and the daring moves of his tongue continued with a sort of harshness that told you Sam was not entirely over the prior argument, his touches were so delicate. The gentleness of his hands reminded you that your angel was still there–he was capable of being sweet and kind. You just wish you saw it more. 

“I don’t know why you even bothered getting re-dressed,” Sam commented as he tugged at the hem of your t-shirt; you thought it was a little funny that he had to look at a cotton screenprint of his own face to get it off. “You don’t think I was waiting for this all day and all night?”

You let him take off your shirt but grabbed his wrists to stop him from doing anything else. “What if I’m not in the mood?” you replied. It wasn’t exactly true considering just being in Sam’s presence got you in the mood on a regular basis, and watching him perform earlier had you waiting in agony, but you were still feeling off. You couldn’t forget all his past indiscretions and you couldn’t get past what was arguably the worst one ever–being entirely left out of a celebratory night just to be made to wait up alone and ignored. 

Sam snapped one hand away from you. He hopped off your hips so he could slide that hand between your legs, fingers easily moving beneath the pants, then your underwear. “Liar,” he said, sounding a little too smug for your liking. You tensed at the sudden, naked touch. “You’re wet.” He leaned forward, bringing his lips to yours again, kissing between softly-spoken words that made you shiver: “I know how turned on you get just watching me. You see my hands on the piano and you want them all over you. You see me looking into the crowd and wish I was only looking at you.”

Those horrible feelings were growing teeth again. “I don’t like you teasing me. It just makes me feel like even more of a joke,” you said, then Sam kissed you again and those feelings had to stay gnashing away in your guts.

Sam rested his head on the bed, looking at you with those big doe eyes, features all soft and sweet again. “You’re not a joke,” he said. You kind of believed him. And your body responded to him again, actually relaxing instead of tightening up, when he started to gently massage your clit. “You’re not just some ridiculous groupie. You’re my fucking girlfriend and I’m now beginning to realize,” he said, drawing out the word and with rolling his eyes. “That I’ve been a fucking shitty boyfriend.”

Well, at least there was that. “Yeah,” you agreed in earnest. “You have been.” 

“I wanna make it up to you,” Sam said, inching closer to nibble on your ear, which made you giggle uncontrollably and attempt to push him away. But he stayed right there, rubbing your clit and licking the curve of your ear then down your neck. 

You just needed one more thing. You placed your hand on his shoulder, making him look into your eyes again. “You swear that you’re mine and only mine?”

Sam did a little X movement over his chest. “Cross my heart.” He sealed the statement with a kiss and then before you knew it, your mind was distracted by Sam’s bare body on top of yours, slathering you with kisses all the way down until he was between your legs. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted, eyes shut tight while Sam apparently made it his mission to make all the bullshit up to you in his own way. His own way being eating you out with more fervor than ever before–he spread his tongue all over you, licking slowly up your center to flick your clit, mouthing and slobbering until your inner thighs were wet too. He slid two fingers inside you while he bit at those, sinking his teeth into your thighs until your legs started to shake and you grabbed at his hair, not caring that he hated when you pulled on it hard. He didn’t seem to mind anymore either. He just let you tug and yank, guiding his mouth back to lap at your clit while he fingered you deep and hard. 

“Sam, oh my god, Sam.” You could hear how desperate his name sounded coming from your lips then, how the ache in your heart vocalized itself. Sam just licked and sucked harder, fingered even deeper, making you clench around him and yank his hair until it had to be stinging his scalp. 

No protesting came from him though. Sam only paused for a moment to encourage you to come all over his face, then he went right back at it. In your mind’s eye, you saw him as he was earlier–angelic, pure, seductive and moving through the world like ocean waves, like the lightest clouds in the sky–and when another wet lick radiated up your spine, the stars that had been the backdrop to him earlier in the night exploded behind your eyes. 

You were shuddering and panting, reeling from the intensity of the feelings still stuck to your ribs and the earth-shattering orgasm Sam had created to try and mitigate them. Your eyes opened in surprise when suddenly Sam was getting back on top of you, pushing inside; you grabbed his shoulders and whined. “Shit–Sam, I’m too sensitive right n–”

“Ride it out with me, Y/N,” Sam interrupted, rocking into you easily with the aid of your slick. You were left to try and catch your breath, staring at his face that mimicked expressions you’d seen earlier–the full lips, the slight slip of tongue between them, the hollowed cheeks and twitching brows. Sometimes you actually hated how beautiful Sam was. Life would be a hell of a lot easier if he wasn’t.

It would be a lot easier if he stopped teasing you every way he could too, but he didn’t. Sam started to thrust into you steadily and hard, slamming into your thighs. “Would you really share a room with Danny?” he asked and your heart flipped, leaving you motionless and in shock. But when Sam asked the next insane question, it was more curiosity that you heard, not anger, which made you even more bewildered: “Would you fuck him if he let you?”

“Sam, what the fuck?” you let out raggedly, feeling suffocated. Sam left you with that terror for another minute, fucking into you harder, one hand squeezing your breast while the other kept him propped up on the headboard.

“I’m serious,” Sam said, slowing the pace a bit, looking down at you with those perfect lips parted and cheeks all pink, sweat making his skin glow. “Would you?”

“No,” you said and it sounded like almost another whine. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and brought him down, pushing your nose through his hair, letting him pant against your shoulder. “You’re all I want, Sam. Always.” With that, Sam pushed in deeper, making you gasp. But you still had more you needed to get out: “It’s so fucking obvious and sometimes I fucking hate you for making me feel this way.” 

“You don’t hate me,” Sam said, his voice deep and rough. He brought his lips to yours, the next proclamation spoken so low that you could have missed it had he not been so close: “You just love me so much it makes you sick.”

You really hated him then. You could feel the rage in your bones. But then that flicker of the exquisite angel that had graced your existence returned in the soft, dark depths of his eyes and the gentle kiss that followed to quiet your seething soul. When you gave in again, arms loosening around his shoulders, the kiss returned with you silently beckoning for more and your hands roaming down his sides, Sam’s grunts became whines of his own. His mystical sounds echoed in your ears as they crescendoed, then his hips were stuttering and he was shaking, his mouth latching onto your throat with a dash of sharp teeth.

He stayed there the rest of the night. After all, where else was there to go? The bars had closed. The boys were all in their rooms. It was just you and Sam left in the golden light of that single lamp that had been left on and he fell into a dead sleep you envied. You were left to lie there next to him, staring through the window until the sun began to creep up past the horizon, all bright orange and purple, a stark contrast that suddenly made no sense in your mind. Many things didn’t make sense. But you hated that Sam had been right earlier–you did love him so much it made you sick and your weeping heart had to find a way to deal with that before it really was ripped right out of your chest.

--

Want to be tagged? Let me know here! (or just DM me lmao)

[flonbowe]

So I was thinking about Mettaton, and something hit me

Mettaton Neo has a very angelic design. I may be stretching it, but considering what a certain other angel looks like

The resemblance is very much there. Mettaton's Ex and Neo forms look far more human than anything or anyone in the underground, including Frisk themselves during the Genocide run. Mettaton Neo is specifically a form used in a last case scenario to stop you. Now depending on how you view the Neo form, this can probably mean a few things. My two cents is that its Mettaton trying to keep himself and you fooled. Mettaton first and foremost is a showman. He's a TV star, and even if he may no longer have an audience, there's no way he's going off air lying down.

Now why would this relate to his Neo form resembling the Angel? Well he's bluffing, whether intentionally or not he is bluffing. He can't beat you, and deep down I think he knows too. The best he can do is stall for time to get as many people out and evacuated as possible, to inspire hope. Its why he stays in the underground, and its what he's good at: inspiring. So he fights you and blocks your path, in the face of a demon he uses the visage of an Angel as the last line of defense for Monster kind. Undyne has fallen, the Asgore will fall too, but Mtt cannot let the monsters hopes die too. I know this isn't in game, but this kind of idea is even further expanded with this cover of Power of Neo https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uI0CxTgpA6Q

It uses a bunch of leitmotifs, and one of which is Bergentrückung, the other theme of someone who tried to bring hope to the Monsters, and the theme of who will fall after Mtt. This is also apparent with how Power of Neo is a more techno Mtt themed version of BAATH to begin with. At every point in the Mettaton Neo fight, from design to music to personality: Mettaton is stalling and pulling an intimidation act as a last ditch effort, since he doesn't know Sans is waiting in his church to play ball with Frisk. https://www.tumblr.com/dn-838/738700806141952000/how-aborted-genocide-affects-the-mettaton-neo?source=share This post goes more in detail on other aspects and Is generally just really interesting. But what I want to point out is what this means for Spamton Neo. By this logic, Spamton ALSO uses the visage of an Angel. Just for funnies, lets compare sprites too!

I know im using fan made content again but after UTY, that really isn't too bad I think, especially for a more for fun exploration like this. Speaking of fan made content, lets see where that sprite came from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BkDjXdp2Ayc&t=69s

Notice how it only uses the first part of the loop, it doesn't go on and doesn't continue Power of Neo fully. It doesn't have the full meaning of Mettaton's heroic sacrifice to help people, as instead of an Angel to save the Underground, Spamton is that Angel of Death in Undertale's prophecy (in the Snowgrave route anyway). Like Mettaton, Spamton also uses the visage of an Angel to achieve a goal, but no matter what route it is its a dark perversion of Mettaton's goals. Mettaton wanted to inspire the Underground and achieve his dreams, trying to stall and kill Frisk to either save them from Asgore, or save the survivors from You. Spamton wanted his freedom and attacks and tries to kill Kris for their soul so he can be free. He also assists in the Snowgrave route, being an accomplice to many many deaths for 15 minutes of fame. This idea is more properly conveyed in the last parts of Big Shot with the use of Power of Neo. Oh yeah this was a Mettaton analysis whoopsie Ok so I know this was a Mettaton Neo thing at the start but man I just wanted to gush and gush about Mettaton cuz man I really can't get enough of him. He's the only one of two characters in Undertale to directly have connections with the Angel prophecy when it isn't just the Delta Rune itself, he inadvertantly saved the Underground because he's what made Alphys get the Royal Scientist posi--OH WAIT YEAH THATS SOMETHING I CAN TALK ABOUT OK SO SIDE TANGENT METTATON UNINTENTIONALLY SAVED THE UNDERGROUND AND I FIND THAT REALLY REALLY COOL! Because Alphys used Mettaton as a project to show to Asgore to become the Royal Scientist, this let Alphys work on the amalgamates and also create Flowey. Without Flowey, the barrier wouldn't have broken and no one would have been freed. Yes I know this isn't all solid since Mettaton didn't somehow cause 6 random kids fall down but you get the idea. Mettaton transitioning saved the world totally I NEED MORE METTATON AUS GRHEYCGDHWUDYGHJWYDH IM GOING TO GO FERAL!!! HE'S NEEDS IT AHHHHHHH!! Ts!Underswap is honestly amazing for Mettaton. I mean Mettacrit. He doesn't get his JoJo body, but is that going to stop him? OF COURSE NOT!

HE'S METTACRIT! AIN'T NO ONE STOPPING HIS DREAMS! He's also a wonderful little gist of Mettaton's whole character, just get rid of Alphys (sadly). Someone who wants to achieve their dreams, wanting to share the love and kindness around, with of course the sassy show stealing charm he needs.

But what if that wasn't so easy

SURPRISE! UNDERFELL TOO! We got the whole holy trinity of Undertale au's, specificallyyyyy

I MAY BE READING TOO FAR INTO THIS BUT I LOVE METTATON GAMMA SO MUCHHHH Its still our same ol Mettaton, but now his dreams are falling on deaf ears. He's Spamton in nature instead of Fabulous. Everyone is violent and blood hungry, so a simple cooking show with a touch of murder won't be enough, or another beautiful rendition of Oh My Love~! Its clear (to me anyway) that Mettaton in this au is nowhere near as big a star as he is in the normal Undertale continuity. In his intro monologue he brags about the audience he brought in, and during the fight he's much more focused on what the Audience wants rather than the show HE wants. Something OUR Mettaton just wouldn't do. This is the same sexy rectangle who basically just broadcasts whatever he wants. I forgot the exact dialogue and screenshot but its just not something Undertale Mettaton really does. Underfell though? A different story. He's bound to his viewers in a bad way till Frisk comes along. He's even more bound to Alphys in this AU as her little science fair project. GOD I LOVE THIS GAME ITS WHAT I'D WANT FROM AN ACTUAL UNDERFELL GAME! Oh my god I haven't even talked about Deltarune Mettaton and Mike and how that works OK SO THIS IS ENTERING MY PERSONAL FANON BUT Y'know how Spamton and Mettaton have their parallels? Y'know how the internet has been down in Deltarune?

Chapter 3's dark world is definitely TV themed, there's no way it can't. I know Tenna is the big TV related baddie now, but Im using Mike in this take. If Spamton is the more passive parallel to Mettaton, Mike in this chapter 3 take would be the darker direct parallel. Instead of the dreamer from humble beginnings who, even if he can be vain and self centered at times, still means well deep down like Mettaton is, Mike would be the cynical producer type who's fueling problems in the industry to make it big on top. A dark Mettaton if you will. Basically like this

https://www.tumblr.com/paintedhen/703948707502145536/determinators-determinators-mettaton-has?source=share

WHICH SIDE NOTE METTATON IN DELTARUNE IS DEPRESSING IM SO SORRY FOR HIM

https://www.tumblr.com/everysongineverykey/691083816166686720?source=share

I KNOW I KEEP LINKING OTHER POSTS BUT ITS NOT MY FAULT EVERYONE IS COOKING! GRAHHH Mettaton's such a character man. He makes me think lots of things and I wish I could gather my thoughts more clearly

[nastasya--filippovna]

A funny little story full of funny little coincidences and sweet serendipity, but I know people on this site love that

This is a funny story of how I got into the Good Omens fandom. And it is so weird that sometimes I even amaze myself when I tell someone. But I love to tell this one....... so....................................

Late 2021 I watched Wilde and I absolutely loved it. And the best thing out of the movie was that I discovered Michael Sheen. I remember at the time being struck by two things: a) how this actor who had a side character and a small role was so magnificently out-acting great actors like Jude Law (just my personal opinion plz don't come at me for that) and all because of these beautiful micro-expression which I find myself criticizing many big actors like Brad Pitt even for that they lack good subtle micro expression and its as if their faces are dead, nothing is going on there. But Michael is always acting even when the camera is not focused on him he is in character. And (b) his fine beauty. I mean as a lesbian and more than that a portrait artist, I was mesmerized by the artistic beauty in the most non-sexual way.

And I found myself spiraling down the MS hole. And I watched literally everything he has ever done. Except one thing.

Good Omens.

That was because I love Neil Gaiman as a writer. His books have saved me during some very dark times in my love and his work is absolutely sacred to me. To be honest I didn't enjoy his other adaptations. They sucked the juiciness out of the books and kinda confirmed my earlier conviction that no filmed adaption of a book will ever do justce to the written word.

And it's so weird that I had seen all the other adaptations but I hadn't ever heard of GO adaptation.

And then one day I was like yk what just f^ck it. I'll just watch it and strike this one of my list (I'm a cinephile on a mission to watch almost everything ever made in the world).

So I'm watching it and I'm like oh look MS looks so ethereal. Born to play an angel. Look at those floofy wings.

BUT something was bugging me. Usually in most MS movies/shows he keeps out-shining, out-acting his co-stars. Just out there being the best making everyone else look flimsy. But here there was one person who is NOT looking flimsy with MS. Infact he keeps complementing him so perfectly it looks like a graceful waltz.

'Yeah so the demon guy is a great actor I guess'

But that's not why my mind is bugging me. There was something else some weird deja vu kind of familiarity.

I try to ignore it.

Two days later my sister is scrolling through her Pinterest and she goes "What's a Doctor Who?"

And I was like "It's an old childhood show I used to watch, you wouldn't know (she has never seen Doctor Who btw).... why're you asking?"

And she holds up her phone and she's like "Idk it says he's a Doctor Who?" (btw I love the way she says 'a Doctor Who')

And my mind went whoooooooosh!

It's such a strange feeling when stuff you'd forgotten, stuff that was once really special to you, but seems to be lost, and yet is only nestling in some corner of you chaotic mind waiting for the day it'll one day come into the light again, that's tuff comes whooshing back.

I grew up loving DW. Especially Ten. Well I was a tad bit pissed when Nine regenerated into DT and I was like noooooooo who's this skinny f^cker.... I don't want it. But I just fell in love with Ten. To my little lonely-kid-in-school-weirdo-nerd-wallflower self Ten was a best friend who made me feel that it's okay to be different to be geeky and childlike without being embarrassed. Ten was a secret best frined.

And when he regenerated I stopped watching the show. And I forgot about it because I was so busy adulting I lost track of everything I had cherished as a kid.

Now almost 15 years later I found out that my new favorite character (along with Aziraphale cz they're equally special to me) was played by the same person who played my childhood favorite character. And that he's also the best actor I have ever seen so I spiraled down DT hole and I am obsessed (not ashamed to say this). And guess what I found.... almost every show or movie I had watched as kid, he was there.... Ducktales, Harry Potter, Loud House, Einstein and Eddington, Mary Queen of Scots...... its endless.

And the 60th Anniversary special, well it's the most specialist thing to me. I feel like a child again.

GO and DW. Best things that ever happened to me

So thanking Neil Gaiman and Russel T. Davies and MS and DT for making my childhood better....... constantly, because it's never over..... the child lives in me constantly...... she's alive again. Thank you for keeping that child alive and helping her through the darkest nights .

Meena x

[bunchofrandomfandomsandbands]

Favorite Quotes from Supernatural

(That literally nobody asked for, but I’m bored)

Sam:

What kind of house doesn't have salt? Low sodium FREAKS.

It's not food anymore, Dean, it's Darwinism!

I lost my shoe.

(to Gabriel) So which one are you? Grumpy, Sleepy, or Douchy?

I've been tortured by the Devil himself. So you, you're just an accent in a pantsuit. What can you do to me?

Gabriel:

You can't take the trick out of the Trickster.

[Entering a Gas 'n' Sip] Ooh, smell that cancer. Delicious!

Hello, trickster

Lucifer, you are my brother and I love you. But you are a great big bag of dicks

Castiel:

Dean and I do share a more profound bond. I wasn't going to mention it.

My 'people skills' are 'rusty'.

What part of ‘I don’t know’ escapes your understanding?

It's funnier in enochian.

This isn't funny, Dean! The voice says I'm almost out of minutes!

Hey, assbutt!

I'm an angel, you ass.

You know I can hear you both, I am a celestial being.

You have a Guinea Pig? Where?

Why is 6 afraid of 7? I assume it's because 7 is a prime number and prime numbers can be intimidating.

Let's play Twister.

I'll interrogate the cat.

You know what I like about him is that he’s sarcastic, but he’s thoughtful & appreciative too.

Dean:

Cass, get out of my ass!

PUDDINNGGG!

Well that's great, because without your power, you're basically just a baby in a trench coat.

Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here.

I'm sitting in a laundry-mat, reading about myself... sitting in a laundry-mat reading about myself. My head hurts.

Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts his cakehole!

I mean come on, we hunt Monsters! Normal people - they see a monster and they run, but not us; we search out things that want to kill us. You know who does that? Crazy People! We are insane!

I'm Batman.

Saving people, hunting things, the familiy business.

Fight the fairies

Keep grinding. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets, you got to keep grinding. And that's how we're gonna win. And we're gonna win. We're gonna save Cass, we're gonna ice the Devil, and we're gonna shank the Darkness. And anyone that gets in our way, well, God help them.

Hey. You know who wears sunglasses inside? Blind people. And douchebags.

Crowley:

Hello, boys.

As you may recall: patience isn't one of my virtues... well, I don't have any virtues... but if I did I'm sure patience wouldn't be one of them.

Torture? Brilliant. Can't wait to see Sam in stilettos and a leather bustier, really putting the S-A-M into S&M. Honestly, boys. What are you gonna do to me that I don't do to myself just for kicks every Friday night?

I torture all my friends. It's how I show love.

Chuck/God

You know what humanity's greatest creation has been? Music. That and nacho cheese. Even I couldn't have dreamt up that deliciousness.

Helped them?! I've saved them! I've rebuilt Castiel more times than I can remember. Look where that got me.

Lucifer

Sorry if it's a bit chilly. Most people think I burn hot. It's actually quite the opposite.

Think about it: dad made everything, which means he made me who I am. God wanted the Devil!

Upper bunk? Lower bunk, or do you wanna share?

Snapping necks and cashing checks is what I do.

You know what they say? He who hesitates, disintegrates.

GOOD MORNING, VIETNAM!