#('no that doesn't count!' 'it was in the sequel!' 'exactly why I said it doesn't count!')

[marypsue]

Because I am literally never not thinking about weird meta, blurring lines between reality and narrative, and the whole concept of actors becoming their characters, I am now entertaining thoughts of a Shadow of the Vampire-style story wherein a late-2010s-style all-female The Lost Boys remake gets derailed when the lead actress suddenly starts not showing up to shooting because she's sleeping all day...

[easy-there-leftovers]

As Cool As I Think I Am

Summary: The 5 times Spencer tries to be cool, and the 1 time he doesn't care. 

Alternatively; Spencer never thought he was cool, but he found himself wanting to be just for you. 

[a/n] Recommended to be read after, "A Question Unasked", and is a roundabout sequel to "Mixed Messages."

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader| cw: slight spoilers for s1e04, s1e06, s1e08, s1e10, and s1e18 | description of canon-typical violence, timeframe switches because I can, and Spencer being an oblivious, lovesick idiot (can't believe this version of him survived all of this lol) | word count: 7.2k

Amazing. You had called him, “amazing” during the Arizona case and that was all that had been occupying his mind as of late. He had been called brilliant before. Been described as bright, gifted, hell, he was called a genius even. Yet that was the first time anyone had said anything positive about him.

Removed from his intellectual capabilities.

It made him think that there was more that he could offer than just his never-ending stream of knowledge and incessant rambling.

You had seen that in him.

Seen that he was 'amazing.'

But he certainly wasn’t feeling that way now.

“On SWAT we broke shots down into three steps." Spencer nodded as he listened.

"One: Front sight. Focus on the front sight, not on the target. Two: Controlled trigger press. Three: Follow through. After the shot, you come right back to the target. Now, what did you do wrong?”

He sighs with his eyes closed. “I didn't follow through.” 

“Right. You came off the target to see where you hit.”

Hotch had been observing him for the past few minutes to prepare him for his assessment tomorrow, and yet it still felt like he was making no discernable progress. 

He had memorized every trick, every form, every physics interplay that could better the ballistics of his shot and yet he still couldn't do it.

"Hotch, my firearms qualification is tomorrow morning. I barely passed my last one." He had said, putting the gun down.

He feels his unit chief gently push him aside to demonstrate and he gets in position.

"Front sight," He aims his gun.

"Trigger press," He presses down on the trigger, resulting in a gunshot to the target.

"Follow through." He finally says. Keeping his eyes forward with his finger still depressing the trigger until he holsters his gun again.

"You do those three things, you'll hit your target every time." Spencer shakes his head.

He tries to replicate the steps again, but only fails miserably.

He has been doing that. He is doing that. And yet he still keeps missing.

If this wasn't part of his job, maybe he wouldn't have cared all too much about his gun proficiency. Or lack of.

And yet it was.

And it was imperative that he learned it to keep his place on the team, but he had been losing hope.

"They're going to take away my gun."

Sensing his frustration, Hotch empathizes with him.

"Profilers aren't required to carry." He groans at that.

"Yeah, but she does and she's great at it."

God, you must've thought he was pathetic.

Aaron laughs internally at that. He knows exactly who the younger one is talking about.

He had seen the way that Spencer had been watching his 'protege,' and it didn't take being a profiler to know that he was absolutely smitten. If he hadn't known any better, he would've thought that Reid's frustrations stemmed from wanting to seem more experienced in front of you.

And Hotch saw no problem with that, at least for now. On the contrary, the two of you working together seemed to have bolstered his focus on the case. Making the team more efficient with their investigations.

He also thinks that it helped because you seemed to return Reid's sentiment, which is why he had brought you along to help him.

So when Spencer turns and sees you walk in, he blanches.

As much as he really liked your presence (you were friends, right?), he really didn't want to embarrass himself in front of you.

He does that more than enough on his own.

But it seemed like your mentor didn't care.

Hotch says your name with a greeting before excusing himself which tells Spencer that he had planned this from the start. He sighs at that. Chest feeling heavy at the pressure.

He sees you give him a polite smile, which he's come to recognize to be your way of easing him, and he returns it.

"I've heard about your progress." Spencer rolls his eyes at that.

"More like regress. I'm sorry that you have to be here." You snort at his joke but shake your head to assure him.

"I'm right where I want to be. "

His heart fills, even though he knows that not what you meant.

"Why don't you go ahead and show me how you fire that gun?"

He nods and waits for you to put on your ear muffs and goggles before he returns to his position. Calming himself down as he remembers Hotch's words.

Front sight, trigger press, follow through.

He fires three bullets and sees them all hit the whites of the target, which makes him sigh for the umpteenth time.

He puts the gun down and lowers his ear muffs to look at you. Seemingly deep in thought, chin resting on your hand, with eyes travelling slowly up and down his form. Observing.

Scrutinizing.

Assessing.

He can't help but feel naked under your gaze.

He always knew you were smart. The cases you've helped solve were more than proof of just that, but he knew that even you couldn't solve the mystery that was his aim.

He couldn't expect that of you. He relies on you so often already.

He briefly wonders how there's such a different between you and him. You joined the same year, joined the same unit, and worked with the same people on the same cases. How was it that you seemed calmer, cooler, and more prepared for anything more than he ever was?

Spencer firmly believes that intelligence cannot be quantified. And if anyone ever doubted him, he would just point at you and say that you had him beat everywhere despite what any number might have to say otherwise.

Case and point. you had been talking to him about something very important and thoughtful and he had been zoning out the entire time.

"I um,–– what?"

You shake your head and gesture to his gun once more. "Show me your form again."

He takes his gun hesitantly, but readies himself the same way he did earlier. The only exception being that his finger isn't on the trigger.

He hears that telltale, almost bored, 'hm' of yours before you speak again.

"Tuck your chest in."

He's read countless firearm manuals and instructions and he's never heard of that before.

"I'm sorry?"

"Tuck your chest in." You say it again, but it's still not making sense to him.

Unable to voice or even act upon his confusion, he watches as you wait with an impassive face before asking,

"Can I touch you?" He lets out a shaky, but immediate 'yes' and you move to stand beside him.

Given your calm and nonchalant demeanor, he anticipates a more impersonal touch. For lack of a better word. He expects a shove. Maybe a push, to correct him into the right place.

So when your hand comes to softly rest on his stomach, fingers splaying across the expanse of his undefined abdominal muscles, he feels his breath hitch. Upper body slightly crumpling in on himself as he does.

He's surprised he hasn't dropped his gun.

"Dr. Reid,"

He's also surprised that his heart hasn't stopped. With how you said his name, and how close you are– he can already feel your soft breath gracing his ear–

"You're an autodidact, aren't you?"

A self-taught person, he thinks.

"I–– I am." Curse his shaky voice.

"You know, there are some things that can't be learned by just reading textbooks and looking at diagrams."

He feels you tap his stomach and he suddenly feels hot.

"Feel this?" He feels you engulfing his senses, that's for sure. But he nods slowly.

"Remember it. Your center of gravity is different from the subjects in those graphics. So the form you need to take is likewise different."

And just like that, all too quick for his liking, you move away. Hand leaving him just like whatever depraved thought might've been running around his head.

He hesitantly looks back at you, and you gesture to his gun again. Noticing how your free hand is resting on the gun in your holster.

A Glock 19, he remembers.

"Go ahead and shoot like that now."

He does, in the same way that he's compelled to follow your voice like always–

Front sight, trigger press, follow through.

And fires three shots.

To his surprise, he manages to shoot the target's chest. Not quite centered, he admits, but its a vast improvement from his previous attempts.

"I– I did it." He feels the disbelief on his face when he looks at you again. He's expecting you to look just as shocked as he does. After all, you saw just how egregious his aim was. So it surprises him when he turns and is greeted instead with the small smile on your face.

Not the same polite smile that you usually give when you're at work, no. It was a soft, genuine smile, or so he thinks.

"I never doubted your capabilities, Dr. Reid."

He beams under your praise. Blooming like a flower under the warm radiance of the Sun. Once again subject to that brain-freezing sensation from a few weeks ago.

If he just remembers everything you told him today, which wasn't a lot, he theoretically should pass his firearm qualifications with no problem.

And maybe, just maybe, he'll get to see you smile at him again.

After all, he had always wanted for you to look at him. Actually look at him.

Maybe if he passes his test this time, you will.

----

The following day, he doesn’t pass his test.

And he is much more embarrassed now than he ever was before. 

He returns to the bullpen with his head down. Already expecting everyone to know of his failure.

He really didn't want to see if you were one of the ones that had been looking at him.

What he doesn't see is that you were.

But you weren't disappointed at all. You wanted nothing more than to reassure him. To tell him that you could always help him again, and that you didn't mind the extra work if it weren't for the stares that you had been getting back.

Seemingly turning your what-would've-been act of friendship and care into an expectation and responsibility.

"Make a wish!"

"Come on, man. Blow, baby, blow!"

"I thought you were full of hot air, Reid."

"They're trick candles, Spence, okay? They–– They're going to come back on every time."

While Spencer is glad that he’s spending his birthday with actual people, there's one in particular that he's missing.

He also feels sort of embarrassed that he's having a full-on birthday at his workplace. Though he is very thankful that his friends care about him enough to do this.

"Hope you like chocolate." JJ says with a laugh and he is only now recognizing the cake. Previously too caught up in blowing out the undying flames to even notice the festive dessert that supported them.

"Where's the cake from?" The blonde only gives him a look that he can't quite understand, but he is immediately distracted when he feels a draft from where Hotch passes by him.

He looks in the direction he came from and lo and behold, he found the very person he was missing.

He gets up, wanting to at least get a greeting from you, but he's interrupted by Gideon asking him something before he can even try.

"You having fun?"

He knows that he's asking him, but he can also see how his eyes aren't quite addressing him back. Instead, looking up a few inches above him.

He gives a tight lip smile when he realizes just what he's looking at.

God, he felt pathetic.

“Yes, definitely. I am definitely– having fun.” 

"Make a wish?" He asks another question and that’s when Spencer sees what he's doing now.

Ever since he first exhibited signs of interest in you, he knew that his mentor would be the first to clock them. He couldn't even hide it if he tried. If there was anyone on the team that he knew would figure it out this quick, it would've been him.

He expected it.

What he didn't expect was for Gideon to show disapproval for it.

For you.

Back during the Arizona case, he remembers how Gideon had interrupted you when you were explaining something. And that's when he realized you were going to have a hard time.

You were going to have a hard time because of his own rapidly growing interest.

Because he froze when you said one nice thing about him, then proceeded to wow him with your observational skills.

He didn't want Gideon to think that you were being a distraction to him, so he instead chose to show just how well the two of you had worked together. Even going as far as to double down and reiterate your statements to convince him of that.

And it seemed to have worked, but now he wasn't so sure.

"Can I take this hat off?"

He wanted nothing more than to do just that before you notice him, but his mentor just shook his head.

"I wouldn't."

He doesn't know it's because Gideon knew you found it cute.

By the time that he notices the elder doesn't really care about the conversation anymore, probably too distracted by the TV behind him, his gaze finally focuses on you.

The very person that he had intended to talk to.

The one he intended to talk the entire time before he got sidetracked.

You still hadn't turned to look at him though, or make an attempt to greet him. Not even a laugh to mock him for the huge, 'Happy Birthday' hat that sat on his head to make him look like a dunce!

Instead, you were staring at something. Or rather, someone.

He turns his head to look just where you were and there he sees his unit chief, your mentor, on the receiving end of your intense gaze.

Just like always.

He shakes his head and decides to just go talk to you, but he is once again interrupted. This time by Hotch with a solemn expression on his face.

“Sorry guys. Party’s over.”

You immediately spring into action at his words, completely missing his hand that was just about to come up to wave at you. He tightens his lips into a thin smile.

Spencer's starting to doubt Morgan and Elle's words.

–––––––––––––

The sentiment is rectified when he finally receives the one thing he had been looking forward to on his birthday, and it wasn't the gift.

Not even the greeting.

It was being able to be in your presence. Being able to spend time with you. The you that wasn't so stressed or strict about work, or the case, or your boss.

It was just him and you. You and him. And the scarf that seemed to warm him just as much as his heart warmed at the sight of your smiling face.

God, what he would do to have this with you forever.

Spencer is well aware that likes you.

Hell, even the rest of team knows it by now, but he's starting to fear that his unconscious mind is more aware of that than his conscious one.

Case and point, he had been having dreams.

Nightmares, actually.

Nightmares that he can't help but think will happen if he takes his eyes off of you for even a second.

Morgan had asked him earlier when he was making coffee if something was causing him to lose sleep. If you had been causing him to lose sleep, he had asked with a teasing smirk.

And while normally he would've flushed and stumbled at his implication that a night of you had been keeping him up, he admits to what's been plaguing his mind.

Naturally, he doesn't tell him the full nature of his night terrors. But his friend doesn't need him to. Not with the way that his eyes try to find yours every chance he gets, focus going in and out of the conversation like an adjusting lens.

Spencer fears that one day, no matter how strong or smart or clever you are, it's his negligence that'll place you on the receiving end of a killer's weapon.

And that there's nothing that he can do to stop them from landing the finishing blow.

He knows that it's not rational, but he also knows that dreams are rarely, if not never, rational. Studies show that around seventy to eighty-percent of dreams contain bizarre or irrational elements. This included unusual settings, impossible scenarios, and illogical developments to be featured in the unconscious brain.

Doesn't mean that he's alright with seeing it so often, though.

What's worse is that he knows that it can very much happen during the BAU cases. And that he can't even prepare himself for that scenario.

He's practically deadweight on the field with his still erratic aim and bambi legs, he's surprised you aren't sick of him yet.

He laughs a bit at the thought. Clutching a portion of his scarf—the only thing that has been keeping the nightmares at bay— as he promises himself that he won't leave your side.

Especially not in the confounding forest of McAllister, Virginia.

Which is why he's stuck in his current position.

“Dr. Reid, I need you to check back downhill and see if the deputies have returned.” He looks at you incredulously.

“What? No! I can’t leave you here– ” 

He doesn't know what exactly you found in the abandoned house, but he knew that it wasn't wise to leave you with no one but a high schooler.

You might think he's not all that different from the kid, but he's at least trained to be an FBI agent.

“We need the rest of the sheriffs and the crime scene team here.”

You looked dead into his eyes, yet he still didn't relent. No matter how reasonable your request was.

In any other situation, he might've thought you were cool. That you were handling the situation like a natural, and that you were very responsible for taking charge when he was there with his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

But he didn't want to leave you. Not when you looked like you've just seen a ghost.

He grasped your shoulders, firmly but gently, and practically begged for you to come with him.

Stating that what you were feeling was a completely normal physiological response. That your body was sending neropinephrine to your brain to help regulate the stress and compensate for whatever was happening inside of you and that it would be safer to stay together––

But when he sees you ice him out– concealing all remaining traces of shock or fear or worry– he freezes.

His eyes raked across your features, biding his time. Committing every micro-reaction, every hair out of place, every faux-calm movement of your eyes before he had to let you go with a nod. Leaving hurriedly to find anyone that can help and constantly looking back at you to assure his consciousness that you were fine, and that you would be fine.

When he saw that the other sheriff wasn't there yet, much less anyone for that matter, he immediately went back. Running uphill fast to get to you.

To make sure that you were alright, that you were alive, and that no one was coming to hurt you.

Which is how he found himself here.

Gun held to his head by the very high schooler that, he thought, wouldn't have been of help if another dangerous person had shown up.

When you raised your hands and dropped your gun in surrender, he was scared of what would happen to you both if he didn't act quick.

But he was even more scared of what could happen to you if he doesn't talk his way out.

Fast.

So that's what he did.

––––––––––

He didn't get to check on you, he realizes.

He knew you were able to knock the kid out, he was there when he helped you distract him, but he must’ve been wheezing because he was the first one to get ushered out and checked on.

He wants to tell them to check on you. That you had landed pretty badly when the unsub was able to push you back, but he can hardly even hear his own thoughts.

The siren of the police car, the medic talking to him, the rest of the team discussing the case's outcome, and his own heart in his ears were simply too much for him.

By the time that things had settled down, he notices that you still aren't there with him. He worries and whips his head around wildly before his eyes find yours already looking at him.

Doing so with an expression of regret or grief etched onto your face.

He sighs in relief, and gives you the best smile he can give to assure you that he's okay despite having been worried sick.

He needed you to know that he was fine. That it wasn’t your fault. That he was glad you're okay too.

That he was so impressed with what you had done despite the circumstances, and that you had handled the situation way better than he knew anyone on the team ever could.

So when you seem to turn away from him, he briefly wonders if something was actually wrong.

He tries to look back on what might've happened. Wonders if there's something he didn't see when he came back, or when he was away––

And that's when he realizes something.

Could he have put you in more danger when he came back to check on you? That he had accidentally sabotaged your takedown?

He sighs. He must've looked so pathetic in front of you getting grabbed like that–– but he's not sorry.

He had been doing that for your safety and for his own peace of mind–– he wasn't going to apologize for caring about you.

He'll make it up to you somehow.

The next time you go on another case together, which you two inevitably will, he'll make it up to you.

That, he promises.

He actually doesn't get to work with you again. So he decides that he can make it up to you by narrowing down the unsub's identity.

In fact, he hasn't seen you at all since the team first arrived at the crime scene.

You had been working with Hotch and Morgan on more field operations, leaving him with Elle and Penelope doing background checks on possible suspects. And while he wasn't with you, he'd like to think that he's still enjoying the company.

Well, that's what he would like to think.

He has no problems working with Elle. She was a nice colleague that seemed to occasionally humor his rants and got the job done quickly. And Penelope was someone that the both of you really got along with. Occasionally having this back and forth unique to the three of you.

But they weren't you.

Still. What he thought about you can wait later. He still has to think about his escape route if the two break out into a fight.

Right now, the three of them had staked out one Michael Russo who they anticipated would call his hitman, the suspected Unsub. They were hoping to get a name from what they could pick up from his end of the call, and they did.

Problem was,

"Russo's got eleven associates named Vincent." Spencer raised his brows at that.

Vincent is a name of Latin origins. He shouldn't be surprised that the mob had a handful of people with that name, but it was kind of too on the nose at this point.

"Oh, make that ten. Vincent Cellito died last summer. But here's something––Vincent Sartori."

He really wants to find this guy, so he chooses to keep looking through the list. Ignoring the growing tension between the two girls.

"Currently doing six at Dannemora for racketeering."

Spencer then speaks up again, "How about this Perotta? There's not much on him."

Garcia makes quick work to pull up what seemed to be deleted records and that's where they find something interesting.

"Alcohol addiction at 14, violent outbursts, assaults,–– Once threw a Molotov cocktail at someone sitting in their car." She can't believe what she's reading.

"Several notations for aggression," He adds, but this is where he sees something truly wrong.

"He once scheduled a visit to an infirmary to gain access to a–– boy who looked at him for too long?"

He really didn't want to meet this guy.

"No fear, no remorse, quick temper. And he was smart enough to stay off the radar as an adult," Elle interprets. "Paranoid personality. Could be our guy."

And he really didn't want you to meet him either.

All the evidence is stacking up against him though, so you just might have to. He just wished that nothing bad would happen when you did.

––––––––––

While right now they weren't sure if he was the unsub, he was definitely someone who fit their profile. He saw some LEO's bring in a guy who had essentially been cuffed at every limb, accompanied by Hotch and Gideon, but he had yet to see the others.

He sees Morgan, who is walking alongside Elle (she went to see what all the commotion was about) but with who he sees next, he feels his stomach drop. Heart rate spiking in contrast to an all time high that he's practically sure he has tachycardia.

"What happened to you!?"

He got up from his seat to run over but you just shake your head.

You had come back with your clothes and hair in disarray, a bleeding nose, and a a busted lip. A complete disparity to the normally clean-cut and professional look that you had strived to maintain.

Even when you had been tackled to the ground a few cases back, the damage wasn't nearly as bad as this.

It's Derek that answers his question for him though.

"Perotta hit your girl up in the head, Reid." He chooses to ignore the joke. Too worried as he tries to check on your head but you just softly squeeze his hands to reassure him before you push them away.

Still not looking at him as you finally speak.

"It wasn't that bad. He hesitated. It could've been worse."

He doesn't like your answer.

If you had just been hit in the head and yet your nose is bleeding, that was a clear sign of a concussion. And the cut on your lip had to be from a fall. On asphalt or onto another material, it didn't matter to him since both are just as bad.

As he expresses that, you just tell him to drop it and then move away from him.

Before he can say more however, Hotch comes back into the room with his usually stern expression. A bit of worry lacing his tone, Spencer notes, as he orders you.

"Go home."

He's staring you down, but it seemed you had a lot more to say to that.

"Sir Hotchner, I would be of much more use in here. It is imperative that all available resources are focused on the retrieval of James Baker." He sighs because you're right, but that doesn't seem enough to satisfy you.

The boy-genius hates it when you use reason to get your way.

"Fine. Help Reid and the others with the evidence. We can narrow down his area of operation from there. They should be arriving soon."

You shake your head adamantly. "Sir, I can handle the interrogation--"

"No you can't!"

Spencer surprises himself with his outburst, but you don't even turn to look at him.

It's Hotch that gives him a very pointed stare though before continuing,

"Reid is right, agent. We'll handle the interrogation, so please busy yourself here." He says it with a finality that is indicative of his departure but you stop him one last time. Hand going up to rest on your mentor's collar.

He sees you gesture to your own, and Spencer hears an intention in your voice that he can't quite understand.

"Let's not give him a weapon, sir. He's pretty strong."

He sees his boss nod, and he takes off his tie. Putting the cloth into your awaiting hand, and you grip it out of instinct.

Reid zones out as he sees this interaction in disbelief. Did you normally touch the others like this?

You had completely brushed off his concern, not even looking at him. And yet when it was your unit chief that told you to do so, you had simply followed?

He thought he was starting to become an exception to you, but had he been reading the signs wrong? It could very much be a possibility as he was never good at doing so.

Even later when he had been sifting through the bags from the suspect's van, you still didn't respond to him. Even going as far as to ignoring Penelope's offer to watch the tapes they had found in Perotta's van. Shaking your head, 'no' with a faraway look in your eyes.

Just what had exactly happened while he wasn't by your side?

At this point, Spencer’s convinced that you would never like him.

If not for you having eyes on literally anyone else but him, then definitely because he had disappointed you. Desecrated the honor that came with being an FBI agent.

Just because he had been distracted.

A whirlwind of emotions had been flurrying inside him since the very beginning of this case, but he swears that he had never meant for this.

He doesn't even remember how it happened. Which baffled him, given his memory. But he thinks it's because he couldn't have cared less about the past few hours.

He had been stuck babysitting Lila only because you had told him so. Entrusted him with her because you thought that he was the best person to guard her, to comfort her.

He didn’t know it was because you had a feeling he’d be safer by her side.

And some part of him was flattered that you had said all this about him. Especially when all Lila would hear from him were endless praises of your name, of your work, and your caring nature.

But another part of him felt ignored. Pushed aside.

He doesn't know when it had happened, but Hotch had stopped pairing you together some cases ago. Saying something about you needing physical training, though he sincerely doubted that.

He thought that things were going well between you two. He had just been trying to find the perfect window where you would see him in a good enough light.

A good enough light that would make you say 'yes' to going on a date with him.

He didn't even care that the pretty blonde was interested in him. He only agreed because you stressed her safety more than any other target thus far. But the attention that she was giving him?

That was all that he wanted from you.

All he'd been wanting for months.

And when he had kissed her, all he could think about was you. How it would've felt if it was you in his arms, how you would react if it had been you that he was touching.

But then immediately after, how you would react to him kissing another girl.

God, he was pathetic.

He knew that you had been having a hard time lately. And he also knew that it had a lot to do with your work, how he did his, and his safety. That was all you ever stressed about when you were with him.

If he was safe.

You'd think he'd learn that by now, but he hasn't. Which is why even when he knew all this, his heart still ached as he sees you cry into Morgan's arms. Sobbing like no tomorrow. All because of something he did.

All because he took all your hard work, that had been focused on keeping him alive, and essentially throwing it right back at your face.

His negligence did that.

And he supposes that now, he can't do anything to get into your good graces anymore. Not when Derek Morgan seemed to better at doing his job as a federal agent, and his job as your friend.

When he finally gets changed into dry clothes and enters Lila's house, he doesn't miss the way that you turn from him. He also doesn't miss the glare the other agent was giving him. Nor the careful hand that had been rubbing up and down your arm.

Something that he wished he could've been doing instead.

––––––––––

God, he wanted to be anywhere but here, considering this is where it all went downhill.

"Did you give Lila Archer a collage?" Gideon had started the interrogation, so even if he did want to leave, he couldn't.

"What?"

"There's a photographic collage above Lila Archer's sofa. She says you gave it to her."

But the faster that they could get this done, the faster he could apologize to you.

"So? I didn't make the damn thing." Parker had laughed out, clearly not comprehending the severity of the situation.

"So you just happened to give her a work of art containing most of her life in it?" Spencer pushed but was surprised to see his ex-classmate seemingly have no recollection of the situation at all.

Something was wrong.

If it wasn't him, then who––?

"I––no, no. Look, I lied. I just wanted her to like me. I met her here, and she was a fan of art. Someone gave me the piece to give to her, but I told her it was from me."

It can't be––

"I said I found it, and I thought she'd love it."

"And who gave it to you?" Morgan had finally asked.

"Her name's Maggie Lowe. She uh––She works on Lila's show."

When Spencer hears this, he immediately goes to call you on his phone. Maggie Lowe had gone to Juilliard with Lila and was the production assistant that he swore he saw go in and out of her trailer.

If he wasn't so distracted, he would've fucking noticed that.

But his phone doesn't even ring for a few moments before the call is declined.

What the fuck was happening?

Before he could ask anyone else, he heard Derek speak up.

“Sweet girl, listen to me. We have a name, and it’s ‘Maggie Lowe.’ We’re on our wa—" Spencer tries to talk to you through Morgan's phone, but is knocked off balance when the man turns around in shock.

"Christ man—we're on our way back over there, okay? Stay put and we’ll let Hotch and JJ know.” 

"Let me talk to her!" He practically begs, but before anyone could even understand what he was saying, the call is ended from your side.

"Reid, what the hell were you trying to do?"

He's shocked at his own actions too, but that's not what's on his mind right now.

"She dropped my call but she answered yours? And since when did you start calling her that?"

He knew it wasn't fair, especially after what he had done, but just when did you and him happen?

"Since you started being a dumbass. Get over yourself, kid."

Everyone then started making their way to the two SUV's parked outside, but Spencer took the one that Morgan was driving.

He wasn't done with this conversation.

He tries to call you again, but this time, it looks like the line is busy. What was going on, where were you? He tries Lila's phone, even though he's sure she won't pick up and nothing either.

He has half a mind to ask Morgan to call you, in case you were just being petty and ignoring him, but he feels his phone vibrate. He suddenly hears his phone ring, and he hurriedly answers without checking the caller ID.

Hoping that it would be you on the other hand as he called out your name.

"Nope, sorry hon, it's me." It was Garcia's voice, but it sounded like she was shaking. Sensing the urgency in her voice, he instinctively puts his phone on speaker.

"Reid, I need you to listen to me very carefully— I've already alerted officials in the area, but your unsub? Is in Lila Archer's house."

You can't keep doing this, he thinks. You can't keep scaring him like this, because he's starting to feel so sick.

He looks to his friend in the driver's seat and sees him nod when they make eye contact. Speeding up as they thank Penelope before she ended the call.

At this point, he could care less with how pathetic he might've looked. No longer caring about how uncool you thought he was, or whatever might've been going on between you and Morgan, or if you still had a crush on your boss— none of that.

They had left you behind with Lila and no one else.

Spencer had always feared that one day, no matter how strong or smart or clever you are, it's his negligence that'll place you on the receiving end of a killer's weapon. And that there's nothing that he can do to stop them from landing the finishing blow.

If the reason you were alone and held captive by some psychotic shooter was because he had pissed you off enough to even dismiss his help?

He might never forgive himself for it.

When they arrive, he immediately gets out of the car. Ready to run in and ambush Maggie by himself if he has to when Lila runs into his arms. Holding a gun in her hand as if it were a bomb.

A Glock 19 that he's seen you use since his first official cases on the team.

He notices Morgan, Elle, and Gideon were already out, but Hotch and JJ have still yet to arrive.

He knows that he should wait until further instructions. That there wasn't a protocol for this specific situation. Or maybe there was, but his IQ of 187 had always been slashed down to 60 whenever you were involved.

When he hears a gun fire from inside the house, he's the first one that starts running.

He's thankful that he wasn't alone when he did though.

By the time that Maggie had been apprehended, you were already well on your way to the nearest hospital. According to the clock from inside your room, and the news report that had been playing, a full twelve hours at the very least had passed since then.

You tried to remember what had happened. Tried to remember how you screamed for help once you had subdued her. How she shot you when you tackled her.

Probably with the intention to kill you, then herself had you not talked her out of it.

You groan as you feel the blooming pain in your side. Probably from the GSW that you're going to have to note in your action report.

And then you remembered how you realized what you felt for Spencer and the rest of the team.

You shake your head despondently.

When you look back on every situation where you had essentially put yourself on the line for his sake, you notice that you had really been doing that out of your own volition.

That you had been doing it because you didn't want him getting hurt.

You just didn't like that the the team was turning it into some sort of responsibility.

And sure. Maybe the others were complicit in pairing you up, or guilty for giving you odd looks, but they probably wouldn't have done that if it wasn't something you were already going to do.

God, you felt so pathetic.

You don't think you can handle looking at Spencer now. Not after your existential crisis, and certainly not after what you said before he left.

But luck has a way, so it seems, to constantly elude you.

You note this as you see the very man that you had been thinking of slowly opening the door and perking up when he sees your eyes on him.

Well, as perked up as he could be. Given the circumstances.

"How uh—, How are you? A-Are you...okay?"

You take in how he looks when he asks. Dark rings encircling his eyes, (he had been up all night waiting for you), usually neat hair in a mess (he had been running his hands through them nonstop), and shirt all crumpled from being hunched over for so long (a different one, because he just couldn't stand the vague scent on chlorine in his old one.)

Your heart sinks at the sight and you beckon him closer with your strong hand. Echoing his question.

"Are you okay, Dr. Reid?"

He lets out a shaky breath when he finally hears your soft voice again, slowly approaching you as he does. He was so worried that the last words he would hear from you would be your disappointment, but he persists.

"Can you please answer the question? I don't like it when you pretend like you're okay when you're obviously not."

His hand finds its way to trace little patterns on the back of yours. Occasionally looking up at to see if he was hurting you, before continuing when he sees that he isn't. Feeling too shy to do anything more.

You roll your eyes at the gesture. Flipping his hand to rest on the hospital bed and slipping yours on top of his. Giving it a soft squeeze.

"I could be better." You then squeeze his hand again. "Is this what you were trying to do?"

He thinks for a while, as if not really understanding your question, before nodding vigorously.

You smile at the sight but then feel your regret from a few hours ago come rushing back.

"I'm really sorry. For...everything." You don't think he knows what you're apologizing for, but you do it anyway.

If not now, when?

Spencer laughs a little at that but shakes his head. "Morgan told me about what you said. Back at Lila's. Well, more like he told everyone while we were waiting for you to wake up."

You nod. Suddenly feeling guilty for trying to make contact so you try to let go, but he only entangles your fingers once more. Intertwining them as much as he can since this is the closest that he can afford to have you right now.

He feels his lips tightening into a thin smile before he says what's been haunting him for the past few hours.

"I'm sorry that you had to deal with me for so long. I never meant to burden you like that or make your job harder."

"No, Spencer please," you start, rubbing the only part of his hand that you could reach with your thumb.

"You were never a burden. I was just—caught up in a bunch of things."

He doesn't miss how your usual eloquence evades you. Which gives him a bit of an idea as to how unscripted and vulnerable you were being with him right now.

And as much as he should hate this for you, he'd love it if you would learn to be a bit more vulnerable in front of him. Even if it was a departure from your usually starched blazers, pressed blouses, and clean-cut exterior.

He still thought you were cool just like this.

"Have I ever told you that I thought you were really cool?" You weakly snort at that.

"If by 'cool,' you mean constantly worrying about how everything could go wrong, then yeah. I'm super cool."

He shakes his head at that, but it looked like you weren't done.

"I think you looked cooler, though. Especially when you were next to the pool trying to dry your gun. You looked like a wet rat."

He groans at the mention but you continue to tease him.

"Hey, you were a handsome wet rat. Still a rat, but... you know. From Vegas. Arguably not as bad as the ones from New York. Now though, you're a handsome dry rat."

Now that, he just wines at. You weren't being fair.

How could you make him go through all this and then say that?

Did you know what kind of effect you have on him?

The two of you continue to sling back jokes at the other, a common thing you used to do before things went south. And just enjoying each other's presence.

Holding his hand as you absentmindedly started massaging it. He didn't even notice how his hand had been shaking since the moment you first held onto it.

He was so so glad you were alive. That you were still here, with him. And there's no place he would rather be than where you were.

"So. How about you start telling me what you've been up to while I've been knocked out, hm? What have you learned, genius?"

He's learned a quite a lot, while you were away.

He learned that he should probably encourage you to have more breaks. Learned that you should both talk to each other, and everyone, a bit more. And he learned that you two weren't so different after all.

He's also learned how much he really liked your smile, your laugh, your soft touch, and the way that his name fell from your lips.

He doesn't tell you any of this, however.

Opting to instead tell you about the numerous facts he's picked up during the case, and how much he hated Hollywood.

[a/n] And with that, this marks the end of this specific timeline! I've honestly loved writing with this reader's specific personality in mind, and I'm looking forward to how she'll mellow out when she learns to be more honest.

I have a few ideas for one shots regarding this specific dynamic, but if you enjoyed it as much as I did, please tell me what you thought about this short series! And if you have any idea on what you'd like to see next from these dumbasses, send an ask my way!

Thank you so much for liking them thus far.

Like my work? Consider tipping me!!

[joelscruff]

(not a request, just wanted to share💗💗💗💗💗) I saw this on a prompt list “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye” and why is this so bfs dad joel and reader😢 my heart ughhhh

also yes to the glasses

words (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader) 18+

ik you said this wasn't a request, anon but this inspired me so much ;-; get ready for sadness. combining this with a request from @rrrrosie: Okay, boyfriends dad has been on my mind like crazy! Like I swear I’d just slip and tell him ‘I love you’. And he’d totally try and not say it back even if he wants to because he knows the situation they are in is so messed up. But omg he’s such a SAFE character. Idk Maybe this is a request?? Idk 😭

this fic is a direct sequel to "prove it". you can find the other fics in this series on my masterlist. and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip!

summary: you and joel are left reeling from your boyfriend's discovery. rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: daddy!kink, oral (m receiving), praise kink word count: 2.2k

it's been a week since you last saw your boyfriend, since that moment in his car where you'd suspected he knew what was going on between you and his dad. it's been one long week of anxiety, worry, sadness, and now - acceptance.

joel hasn't texted you since that night and you have no idea if something happened, if your boyfriend went home and confronted him. you figured it might take a few days for them to sort out their issues, but a week? a week with complete radio silence? it's so uncharacteristic for them to be so distant, especially your boyfriend who you thought would've come back to give you a piece of his mind.

you've now accepted that things have changed. what exactly that change is, you don't know, but you're desperate to find out. the distance from your boyfriend has been welcome, even a relief, but the distance from joel...your heart aches just thinking about it. you want him to hold you again and tell you everything will be okay.

so when you show up on their front porch on a sunday afternoon you're not sure what to expect. you ring the doorbell and wait, biting your lip and fidgeting while you wait to see who'll greet you.

you feel warmth flood your chest when joel opens it, a soft smile spreading on his face when he sees it's you; he looks tired, like he hasn't slept properly in a few days, "hi."

you don't say anything, just rush forward and wrap your arms around him tightly, feeling tears already stinging in your eyes. it's been a whole week without seeing him and the emotions you feel are almost too much, all the worry you'd felt bubbling to the surface again as you bury your face in his neck.

"shhh, it's okay," he whispers, rubbing your back soothingly, "i'm sorry."

"joel," you whimper into his jacket, shutting your eyes tight and letting a sob wrack through you, "daddy."

he seems to stiffen under your touch at the name, and when you pull back to look at him you're beyond confused to see that he seems uncomfortable, grimacing a bit as he pulls out of your embrace. you feel your mouth downturn into a frown, tears spilling down your face.

"you don't want me to call you that anymore," it's a statement, not a question. you can sense the truth of it in his body language, in the way he looks at you now like he's about to break some awful news to you, "this is over, isn't it?"

he exhales deeply at the question, "come inside," he says softly, tugging on your arm and urging you to follow him, "let's talk."

nothing good can come from this.

you walk down the hall slowly, joel leading you with your hand in his as you reach the staircase and begin to climb. you assess the house a bit, looking around for any sign of your boyfriend.

"he's not here," joel says quietly, "he doesn't live here anymore."

you're not sure what to make of that, eyes still scanning the house once you reach the upstairs hallway. you and joel head for his office, a path you've crossed many times before but never in such a state of dread. something bad is going to happen, you can feel it.

you enter his office and settle on the couch, crossing your arms and watching him shut the door behind you. he doesn't bother to lock it; if what he said is true, your boyfriend won't be interrupting you this time.

"why can't i call you daddy?" you ask immediately, voice firm and serious, trying not to let the tears still flowing down your face completely betray you.

he sighs, squeezes the bridge of his nose under his glasses and walks over to you. he nudges you, quietly asking you to make room for him to sit beside you.

"a lot has happened," he says softly, reaching out to take your hand and squeezing it gently, "i just...i need to talk to you like an adult."

it's only then that you realize he hasn't used a single one of your pet names when he's spoken to you. no baby, babygirl, angel, nothing. it's almost like he's being too formal, like this is some kind of business transaction and not a real conversation.

"what happened?" you breathe, tears still streaming down your face, "what did he do? does he know?"

he almost laughs at your questions but without any humor, shaking his head slowly and reaching into his back pocket to show you his phone, "he looked at our messages."

your blood runs cold; you and joel haven't texted that much but your messages are more than enough proof for your boyfriend to have realized what was going on.

"oh god," you murmur, "so he...he knows knows."

"he knows you call me daddy, yeah," he says quietly, voice slightly rough with anger, "he said i was a sick man."

"you're not," you say immediately, shaking your head and inching forward a bit more on the couch, "joel, you're not. i want it just as much as you do, you know that."

"i know," he closes his eyes then, takes a deep breath, "anyway, he said he couldn't look at me the same anymore. said it made him sick to his stomach. not just because it was with you, it was everything as a whole," his mouth twists and you can hear raw emotion in his voice, "he moved out, i don't know where he went. i just hope he's alright."

"i don't give a fuck about him," you reply coldly, "i could care less."

"you're not his father," joel replies, shaking his head, "he's hurting, i hurt him."

"by doing what? so i call you daddy, so fucking what?" you feel anger begin to burn in your stomach, "yeah i cheated on him but that's on me, not you. you didn't do anything."

he pulls back from you, releasing your hand and standing up to walk over to his desk. you watch as he settles in the chair across from you and tilts his head back to look at the ceiling.

"it's wrong," he says, voice breaking at the words, "i know it feels good but it's wrong and it has to stop."

you look at him with an expression of pure disbelief, brow furrowing in sadness and confusion. he looks over at you once, just once, and you see he's fighting back tears just saying the words.

"you don't mean that and we both know it," you whisper, shaking your head, "this is more than some silly game we play together, you know that."

he takes a breath, leans forward and puts his head in his hands, "don't say that," he murmurs, voice muffled.

"we care about each other," you continue, standing up and walking over to the chair where he sits, "joel, why the fuck do you think i call you daddy? really?"

he slowly pulls his face up from his hands to look at you, tears swimming in his eyes, "don't," he breathes, "please."

"you're the only person in my life who's ever truly taken care of me," you kneel down so you're at his level, reaching forward to take both his hands in yours, "yeah you fuck me, you use me when i ask you to, but you protect me. you hold me. you listen to me and you kiss me and you mean it." you drop his hands and slowly ease your palms over his thighs, squeezing gently, "i feel so safe when i'm with you, joel."

you hear the low rumble of a groan in his throat as he looks down at you on your knees, thumbing his thighs. "what are you doin'?"

"just let me take care of you," you whisper, tears drying on your face as you reach forward to pop the button on his jeans, "please, joel. just this once and then i'll leave."

you can see the protests burning behind his lips but he doesn't say any of them. he watches as you pull down his zipper and take his cock out, already half hard. he'd said last time that he was always turned on by just seeing you, hugging you; it hadn't been a lie.

"just feel it, don't think," you whisper, then carefully wrap your lips around the tip of his cock.

he hums immediately, jaw going slack as he watches you swallow him down, already growing harder in the wet heat of your mouth. you feel his hands in your hair, pulling you closer as you slowly bob up and down. it's different this time; he's not the man who protects you and always gives you what you want. he's just joel, your ex boyfriend's father who deserves a quiet moment of pleasure for himself.

he whispers your name; not a pet name, your actual name. it's rare for either of you to just be completely yourselves in a moment like this. there's always been the added sexy addition of the power dynamic, the words that separate you both from being on the same level. but that's not what this is.

"just like that," he whispers, "fuck, that feels good."

he's fully hard now, the head of his cock bumping against the back of your throat. you do your best not to gag, holding him there and swallowing around him as his hips buck gently. you reach up and thumb the v of his hips, still half hidden by his underwear. your eyes are hooded and hazy but you can see his soft belly and his happy trail, all the parts of him you love most.

you pull off to take a few breaths, drool spilling down your chin as you slowly stoke him, looking up at him with a soft smile as he peers down at you. you lean forward and press a kiss to the fat head, lap up his precome and revel in the way he moans.

"tell me when you're close," you breathe, then take his full length in your mouth again and start to bob up and down a bit faster, nails digging lightly into his skin.

he holds your hair firmly, helps you move back and forth on his dick as you give him what he needs, "i love your mouth so much," you hear him groan softly, shakily, "you're so fucking perfect."

tears sting your eyes but you're not sure if it's from your actions or his words. either way you feel your throat tighten around him and he groans again, low and deep.

"gonna come," he warns you softly.

you nod but don't remove yourself from him, just take him as deep as you can and hum around his length, urging him on. it only takes a few more bobs of your head before his hand is tightening in your hair and he's coming in your mouth.

"fuck," he groans out, trembling beneath you.

you wait until he's stopped coming to slowly pull yourself from his cock. he looks down at you, looking more tired and sleepy than he had when he'd first opened the door for you. without him asking you to, you open your mouth and show him the thick globs of his come pooling on your tongue.

"swallow." he whispers.

you do as you're told.

there's a few moments of silence as you carefully slip him back inside his pants and do him back up. his hand stays glued to the back of your head, thumb stroking you gently back and forth as he watches you. he looks exhausted, it makes your heart ache.

"i still want you," you breathe, squeezing his thighs through his jeans again soothingly, "i'll always want you, daddy."

"i know, babygirl," he breathes, barely a whisper, "but you need to give me some time. please."

your grip on his thighs loosen as you peer up at him. he's looking at you with an expression you've never seen before, truly pained and full of sadness. it hurts to look at.

you feel yourself nod slowly, "okay," you whisper, voice shaky, "if that's what you want."

he doesn't say anything else, just watches as you ease up from the floor and walk over to his office door, turning back to give him one last glance before you leave.

"i love you," you whisper, soft and sincere, "but you already know that."

you shut the door behind you and shuffle quietly down the stairs. part of you still expects to hear sound effects from some game coming from your boyfriend's room, but there's nothing. you take a quick peek inside on your way to the front door, eyes widening when you see that the whole room has been cleared out. his gaming set-up is gone, his clothes, even his bed.

the emptiness makes you understand why joel is hurting.

just as you reach the front door you suddenly hear footsteps coming from behind you. you turn, surprised to see joel appear on the stairs.

"joel?" you ask softly, confused.

he walks toward you and fully embraces you in a tight hug, holding you close to him in the way you love most. you hug him back immediately without any hesitation, squeezing his body and making sure he feels just as safe and protected as you do.

"i wasn't ready to say goodbye," he whispers, still holding you tight.

you let him hold you for as long as he needs.

[twelfthgnome]

Heaven is Here

SYNOPSIS: Through many fleeting moments throughout history with a strange woman, Aziraphale and Crowley learn they accidentally trapped a human soul to Earth, stuck to reincarnate forever.

TAGS: Aziraphale x Crowley x Reader, fluff, slight angst, soulmate au (on accident), history, historical settings, no beta we die like men

WORD COUNT : 12,253

A/N: This fic is kind of accidental. I’ve always been more about Aziraphale/Crowley in this fandom than any reader insert, but one day I happened upon a Tumblr fanfic and had an idea. This probably won’t be a regular thing - except I am planning a sequel to this exact fic - but I thought why not. Im still more Aziraphale/Crowley.

55BC—————

"And you love this?" Crowley asked, holding the seafood up to the light as though it would reveal to Aziraphale all the disgusting little details.

"It's delightful!" Aziraphale insisted, showing Crowley how to eat the oyster. "Try it, dearest. You might just enjoy it."

Crowley pursed his lips, not wanting to put whatever the hell this was in his mouth. But Aziraphale was looking at him with those eyes. He didn't know how describe them, and he didn't want to analyze how they made his heart hurt inside his vessel's chest. So he closed his eyes and ate the damned thing.

He put a hand over his mouth to stop the gagging. This Angel's taste was not quite normal if this is what he considered fine dining. He tried to smile politely, to not let him know that it was utter horseshit.

"You don't like it," Aziraphale said with a rather disappointed voice.

"N-No, I don't," Crowley said, and he didn't know why but he was sad to disappoint the angel. He was just trying to be kind after all, it wasn't as though he had properly sinned. But why would a demon feel bad for an angel? That went against his lot's whole thing.

However, Crowley found a wicked part of him that liked pissing off his lot. He'd never put it in as many words however.

"Pity, they are quite delectable."

"Sure, angel," Crowley said, sipping a large mouthful of wine. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, eating and drinking as they'd like. Then Crowley looked up to Aziraphale's soft "ahem." He was pointing behind Crowley, and when he turned he saw what caused it.

A young woman was sat in the corner, a large glass of wine in her hands, and she was weeping to herself. It wasn't loud or particularly noticeable, if it wasn't for the tear tracks down her cheeks, glittering as they caught the light. She was looking at her lap and sipping the wine, balking at the taste yet coming back for more.

"She looks happy," Crowley said.

"She looks sad! You demons need to learn the proper emotions."

Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a moment, wondering if he was joking. Upon realizing that Aziraphale was, in fact, not joking Crowley said, "that was sarcasm, Angel."

"What was sarcasm?"

"My comment, 'she looks happy.' Of course she doesn't look happy that's why I said it."

Aziraphale furrowed his brows, "but your words meant the opposite of what you said."

"Exactly," Crowley said. And with a flourish he added, "it's called sarcasm."

"But why say something you don't mean? Isn't that lying?" Aziraphale asked, in all sincerity.

Crowley thought it over, "s'pose it could be seen that way. Most people view it as ironic."

"Oh, yes, of course." Aziraphale took an anxious sip of wine, looking back towards the girl.

"Angel..."

"Yes?" He was avoiding eye contact

"You don't know what ironic means, do you?"

Aziraphale pouted, "no I don't and I quite detest that you do."

"Ironic literally means saying the opposite of what you mean for some sort of point. Mine being that she looks downright miserable."

"Even though you said she looks happy." Aziraphale said slowly as he tracked that line of logic through his head.

"Right, even though I said she looks happy."

"And that's ironic?"

"Don't ya think?" Crowley said with a wide smile, his teeth appearing almost like he had pointed fangs.

"Why yes I do think-"

"Angel, that was irony."

"Oh." Aziraphale blinked rapidly a few times then sipped his wine, embarrassed he didn't know something that Crowley did know. He thought he was the knowledgeable of the two. "Well, sarcasm or not, we should help her."

"We?"

"Why - yes, we're both here and we see -"

"I don't help people," Crowley said quickly, his voice deep and harsh. "I'm a demon, I do the opposite of help."

"Well, yes but-"

"There are no buts with this. My lot were created to ruin your lots pickings. I pillage and plunder, that's my job." Crowley said this firmly as though it would make his point clearer. The more intense he was, the more his words seemed to slur together a bit.

Aziraphale paused for a moment, and Crowley wondered if he was about argue his point once more. "Isn't the phrase rape, pillage and plunder?"

"I don't do that. I'm not a monster," Crowley balked. He finished his wine and set the glass down. Throwing some money on the table he said, "sorry Angel. Got a priest to tempt. Catch you later."

"Oh, goodbye." Aziraphale said as Crowley ambled off through the restaurants doors. But despite himself, Aziraphale found himself smiling. Crowley wasn't truly all bad, even if he thought himself it. His gaze at the doors quickly moved over to the pretty girl weeping. She was still crying and her glass was a lot emptied.

Aziraphale got up, straightened his toga, and walked over to the girl. "Oh, um, hello. I'm -" oh shoot, he hadn't thought of this part yet. He had to quickly think of a name. Instantly his eyes shot up to the art above her, a fleece. Aha! "Jason. My name is Jason. Pardon the intrusion, but I couldn't help but notice you're upset."

She sniffled, setting the glass down on the table. Aziraphale was struck by her face, now that he could see it not turned down and hidden. She was pretty. She eyed him warily, "Yeah, what's it to you?"

Aziraphale sat down on the chair opposite her, "I wondered if I might be able to help."

She laughed bitterly, "only if you can stop the Emperor." Aziraphale's eyebrows raised at that and she rushed to cover for herself, "oh no, I didn't mean that. All Hail the Caesar and what not. He's doing a mighty fine job."

"It's certainly not a 'mighty fine job' if he's got you crying as such."

"No, I s'pose not."

"What can I do for you?"

"Nothing," she said honestly, wiping the tears away quickly. "Honestly, Jason, I appreciate the thought but what's done is done. You can't change the past."

Aziraphale made a face in slight disagreement, though he knew he couldn't explain that to a human female. "Then perhaps telling someone will make you feel better. I harbor no connection with the Emperor, your opinions are quite safe with me."

She stared up at him after he said this, looking him truly in the eyes as though they told her all she needed to know. Then she did speak. "It's this invasion on Britain. My father and brother were both sent off and I worry. I've heard horrible things about the natives, truly barbaric things like removing of one's head. I don't want them to be hurt. Especially my brother, he's so sweet. He could get hurt by the army rather the natives."

"Hurt by his own army?"

"He doesn't stand up for himself. And that lot can be harsh. I s'pose I shouldn't blame them, I'd be harsh too if I had to kill people in battle. But I worry they will pick on him, push him 'round to try and get him to fight, and he won't."

"Ah, I see," Aziraphale said, rolling his tongue in his mouth as he thought it over. "Well, I can assure you one thing. The natives are not unnecessarily cruel. They do fight, but only when they need to. You couldn't expect anything less, dear."

She nodded, biting her lip. "No, you're correct. I'd defend my country against invaders as well."

"But they won't torture. Your brother will be quite alright, I'm sure of it."

After a minute of silence she looked up again at Aziraphale, "Thank you, Jason. Strangely enough, that makes me feel better. Knowing it wouldn't be torture."

"No, it wouldn't be."

"I really should be going, my daughter will be expecting me."

"Right, of course. Blessings on you, my dear." And though he'd already said the blessing, he felt compelled to say it again. To strengthen it for this poor soul. "Blessings on you forever."

Aziraphale helped her out of her seat. Just then, for an imperceivable second, Aziraphale thought he saw a golden shine cross her eyes. He didn't think much of it, figured it was the miracle. He'd never seen that happen, but he wasn't often looking in their eyes.

She took his hand, kissed the back of it, and thanked him again before walking out. Aziraphale smiled contentedly, though he felt a pull in his heart he hadn't felt before. Urging him to follow her, but he figured it was some sort of indigestion.

Crowley was sprawled on a bench not far from the restaurant, glancing up at a night time sky he couldn't see. He wanted to see it, but he gave up on that dream 2,000 years ago. The Fall took many things, and his eyesight was one of them. He could still see in general, he knew what people's faces looked like and where he was going. But specifics were lost on him, and the night looked like eternal darkness rather than the sparkling stars and planets he'd been told about.

"I helped create some of those," he mumbled to himself.

Then he closed his eyes, needing to not look at what he couldn't see. It still hurt, as though the wound wasn't thousands of years old. But it never properly healed in the first place.

He felt a weight against his foot and heard a thud within a matter of seconds, and he blinked in surprise. At his feet, a young woman was crumpled to the ground. His foot was sticking out in the pathway. Whoops.

He thought about rising to help her, then thought better of it. Beelzebub didn't need another reason to hate him. So he sat still and watched the woman get onto her hands and knees, glaring at him.

"Not going to help are you?"

"No, I think I'm keen to just watch," Crowley responded. She rolled her eyes, getting onto her feet and dusting off her toga. He examined her quickly, not knowing what to make of her. Then, she said something entirely unexpected.

"Keep your foot out of the way, asshole."

It wasn't a particularly inspired remark, nothing witty or threatening. But it was the fact that a random woman said that to him, a demon, without prompting. And with that remark, she walked away.

"Damnation on you eternally," Crowley murmured, waving his hand in a flourish towards the woman. He doesn't know why he said it, he's never really said it like that before and he certainly didn't why he even added the 'eternally' bit. But whatever the reason, he said it.

Though he knew she was too far away to hear him, she turned and looked back. And found a brief moment, maybe it was the trick of the light, he saw a golden shine pass over her eyes. She smirked shyly, then turned and walked away. And with each step, Crowley felt his heart pulse in a way he hadn't felt before.

1377—————

There was complete silence in the cathedral as a young boy, only aged 10 and dressed in trousers, walked through the crowd towards the priest. They seemed to hold their breaths as he lay on the floor before God, surrendering himself to Her mercy. Aziraphale watched the coronation. He had mixed feelings about the child, Richard. He wasn't a particular fan of the whole 'king' concept, but he thought the honoring to God bit was a nice touch. He wore simple enough clothes to note stand out, yet nice to enough to be recognized as a noble. His layers were in varying degrees of beige as he hid in the very middle of the crowd.

After the 10 minutes on the floor, Richard rose and made his way to the priest where he was being dressed in oil.

"Bit like a salad, eh?" A sultry, baritone voice said from beside Aziraphale, making him shudder. When he looked, it was Crowley. Dressed in similarly simple noble clothes, of course in tones of black and red, he watched the young king as different body parts were coated in oil for different purposes.

"Crowley? How did you get in here? It's a church?" Aziraphale said in a hushed whisper, earning glares from the people beside him. "Sorry Lord Wellington."

"Churches are built by humans."

"And what does that have to do with anything? You're still a demon in a place of worship for God," he said the word 'demon' especially softly for fear someone would turn in a panic at the word 'demon' being said in a cathedral.

"Yeah but it wasn't made by God. It was made for Her, by humans. Totally human structure."

"It is not."

Crowley shrugged his shoulders, "you got a better reason I can come and go in these?"

Aziraphale pursed his lips, "I suppose not."

A loud smack echoed through the church and Crowley frowned, "you made me miss the slap, Angel."

"That is your concern?"

Crowley shook his head in frustration, "He's a bloody king now, last time he coulda gotten hit and it's by a priest. S'course I wanted to see it."

"He's a child."

"Not anymore. He's got too much to think about now to be a child."

"No," Aziraphale wondered. "I suppose he's not longer a child at all. You know, dearest, you really do have the grandest thoughts when you think about it."

"Shut up," Crowley replied, his cheeks turning rosy at the compliment.

Within seconds of him saying it, the priest placed the crown on top of boy's head and declared loudly, "Long Live King Richard II!"

The crowd burst into applause as the young king was carried through the cathedral. They whooped and hollered, crying "all hail" and "god save the king" as he passed them by. The boy looked cheerful, pink cheeks and bright curls waving underneath a crown that looked awful heavy for a boy his age. But no, Aziraphale thought, perhaps this was the end of his childhood after all.

"Are you attending the feast afterwards? I hear they will serve beef, and I haven't have beef in decades!"

"Ahh, well I don't know, Angel."

Aziraphale smiled, leaning in as though he was sharing a conspiratorial secret, "I hear there are miraculously two spots for a Lord Fell and Mr Fell, if you are so inclined."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up, eyes hidden beneath his favorite pair of sunglasses, "oh you devil!"

Aziraphale's smile dropped, "don't you say that."

There was a pause as Aziraphale processed the hurtful words, and Crowley processed that he actually cared to make it right to him. Then all at once, they both started speaking on the issue, words overlapping in a frightful mess.

Crowley sighed, "Right I'm sorry -"

"- that really hurts -"

"- I know, I know -"

"- I mean, I am most certainly not fallen -"

"-we had this conversation in 1066 -"

" - I did not appreciate that."

" -I know, Angel. I'm sorry."

After that final note, Aziraphale nodded. "Alright, well. Thank you."

They started to walk together towards the banquet hall not far from there, waiting to indulge in fine wines and beef. There was a large parade towards it, all the nobles and even those fortunate peasants engaged in laughing and singing. Jesters performed stupid dances in their funny hats, knights marched in perfect unison, and songs came pouring from every lute and voice in the area. It was a perfect celebration of a new king, all on their way to fall victim to gluttony, drunkenness, lust, greed and infinitely more temptations.

All things that should fill Crowley's heart with a miserable sort of glee. And yet... he felt off. Crowley couldn't explain the feeling in his chest, almost like a nagging telling him things weren't right. But all this temptation, he thought. This ought to be perfect! But it wasn't, and he had a feeling before he even glanced at his Angel that it was because of him.

Sure enough, he was right. Though Aziraphale hadn't said anything, being kind enough to accept Crowley's words at face value and dropping it, but Crowley knew him well enough to know something was wrong. He hadn't made it up to him.

"Angel, a word -" Crowley said, grabbing Aziraphale's elbow and leading him away from the crowd. As he did so, he missed the way Aziraphale's mouth dropped open, blue eyes fixated on the contact. They'd rarely touched before.

"Yes, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked politely but his tone was full of too much passive aggression to really be polite. He stood stock still, arms poised in front of him and looked expectedly at Crowley.

"I- I, I need to..." Satan this was hard. The words felt like glue in Crowley's mouth but he did his best to force them out. "I need to, to s'make it up to you."

"Pardon?"

Oh damn Aziraphale, making Crowley actually communicate. "What I said, I was wrong. You were right. It wasn't right of me and I need to make it because my apology isn't enough."

"I never said that."

"Ah, yeah, you never said it. But you's do this thing with your face when you's upset. And my words aren't getting there. Just tell me what I can do to make it up to you."

They waited a moment, staring at one another. Suddenly, a large crash came from parade and the two looked over in surprise. The musicians were playing a long, one very eager man slamming the cymbals that caused such a loud sound. Behind them another jester bobbled along a delicate little dance, flourishing his arms on either side before turning and doing a bow.

Crowley saw Aziraphale's eyebrows raise, the corner of his cute little mouth twitch up and a finger pointed towards the little dance. He ran to stop it, saying, "no, no, no, I'm not doing that."

"Come now-"

"A dance? You want an 'I was wrong, You were right dance'? You can't be serious, Angel."

"I am serious, you wily serpent. Now do the little dance or I'll never forgive you," Aziraphale said in mock frustration, puffing out his chest.

Crowley saw before him a choice, between what his lot were bound to and Aziraphale. And without a second thought, he chose Aziraphale. He would choose Aziraphale every time, he just didn't know it yet. And so, despite all the humiliation he knew this would cause him if the bosses down under ever found out, Crowley did the little dance.

Aziraphale watched, eyebrows raised in shock. He hadn't thought Crowley would do it. Certainly not for him. But as Crowley bowed, enunciating his t's with a flourish, he couldn't help but smile.

"Very nice."

"Are we good, now?"

Aziraphale beamed, "quite right, dearest. We are quite right."

Crowley let out a breath, adjusting his glasses as though they would hide that dance from history's books. "Well then, let's get a move on."

The pair followed the parade into the banquet hall, and continued with the affair. Aziraphale literally wiggled in his seat when the food was placed before him, so excited he couldn't sit still. Crowley drank the wine, actually quite good for English wine.

Then the dancing started. King Richard - now Richard II - climbed on top of the table and proclaimed everyone to dance. And so, the nobles in their fancy gowns, drunk and laughing to no end, jumped from their seats to join in the dance. Aziraphale sat still for a moment, not knowing what he should do. Angels don't dance, not really. But this Angel longed to dance.

Crowley saw the way his fingers tapped along the table to the beat. He groaned, getting up from his seat.

"S'alright Angel, up up."

"Pardon -"

"You heard what I said. Come on Angel, let's dance."

Aziraphale giggled and got up, following Crowley into the chaos of swirling dresses and flirtatious looks between anyone and everyone. Almost immediately they were separated, swung by different partners.

Crowley danced with an older woman who squeezed his buttocks when she thought he wasn't looking. He wasn't fond of dancing, not the way Aziraphale was, but he enjoyed the freedom of it all. There were no rules, not really. Yes some people liked the structured ones where you pose and turn on every 3rd beat or what not. But in dancing there was an air of just living - being truly alive. That's what it was all about, it's all anyone yearned to feel.

In the next turn to switch partners, time seemed to slow for Crowley. He saw her, flitting between the people to slide her arm into Crowley's and continue the dance. She was pretty in an unconventional way. A way society might not call beautiful, but made Crowley stop and stare. He was pulled towards her, as though he couldn't control it. She was the center of his focus and he wanted nothing more than to meet her. Then, she turned that pretty gaze on him. Her lips quirked into a smile, hands warm and soft as they held his tightly. Her skin was flushed from the dance, and her dress swung around her in bright, dashing colors. The last dance had ended and all the people were gasping for air yet still ready to dive into the next.

"Hello," she said softly, though somehow he heard her voice over the crowd.

"Hello," Crowley answered back, not sure what to do. He'd never been in this position before.

"A dance?" She asked, taking a deep bow before holding her hand out. Palm up. She wore one, golden signet ring.

"I'd love to," Crowley answered honestly, taking her hand and pulling her into him.

She giggled happily, throwing an arm around his neck as he led the pair towards the center of the dance floor. He started to laugh along with her. Their dancing wasn't particularly good, both of them knew that, but they were having fun. She would twirl away only to twirl back into him awkwardly, laughing so hard she snorted which only caused a barking laughter from Crowley. They continued forward, holding each other close until the final pull drew them chest to chest. She was shorter than he, and she glanced up through dark lashes.

"Hi," she murmured, her breath hitting Crowley's face. She smelled of wine and temptation. He looked into her eyes and there it was - that one moment in history he thought was a fluke.

It had been 1,432 years, not like he was counting, but he didn't forget the way the golden band seemed to fleet over her eyes back in 55BC. And now, he saw that same golden shine slide over the same pair of eyes. It was just a second and yet it made Crowley's mouth drop. She saw it too, but for different reasons. He watched as she looked at his lips, he could tell what she was thinking.

She went to lean in, breasts pressed against his chest and breath hot, but was ripped away by the next dance. She giggled wildly as she was pulled into a circle, but found herself glancing over her shoulder to stare at the handsome stranger she almost kissed.

As Crowley stood in the middle of the floor, mystified, Aziraphale went over to his table to get a drink. All this dancing was positively amazing, but it certainly drained one of their energy.

As he brought the cup to his lips, a body crashed into his, sending the crimson liquid all over his clothes.

"Oh, bugger," he said, setting the cup down to assess the damage.

"I am so sorry, sir!" A girl said, breathless as she ran over. "That was entirely my fault. Please, let me help you clean it. I'm sure there's a tub not far."

Aziraphale smiled politely and went to decline the kind offer, but when he looked into her eyes he found himself agreeing to go with her. She lit up with excitement, grabbing his hand and pulling him away. There was something about her, something he couldn't explain. But he was in awe of her movements and eager to learn more about her.

She turned into an empty hall near a bathroom. She had him wait here while she collected a basin of water and grease.

"I can't promise it will fully work," she said as she set it down, "but I'll do my best. I really am so sorry, sir. I would have never ruined your clothes intentionally."

"It's quite alright. They weren't my favorite anyway," he said as he removed the outer layer. His multiple layers undergarments were fine, and could suffer slight staining. It was the outer garment that changed the most.

She shook her head as she dunked it in the basin, "you can't mean that, sir."

"I find that I quite do," he said, watching her with a quite awe.

"What's your name, sir? I feel I've seen you before," she said, suddenly watching him with the same astute attention. She kept narrowing her eyes as though she'd remember.

Maybe it was the stain, the wine, the party, the demon nearby, or maybe it was just this woman that did it to him but without realizing, he answered honestly, "Aziraphale."

Her eyes lit up, "like the Angel?"

"Precisely, my dear."

"That's a beautiful name. Aziraphale, Aziraphale... can you believe it?" She mumbled the last bit to herself, rubbing liberal amounts of grease into the fabric.

"Do you have a connection to the name? Or the Angel, perhaps?" Aziraphale asked curiously, wanting to hear more about her.

"I do, strangely enough. It's a silly connection..." she said, absentmindedly turning the signet ring over and over on her hand.

"I rather find that when it comes to angels and demons, nothing is silly." Aziraphale chose to neglect some of the more strange decisions the staff had made.

"I, well, oh goodness it sounds all made up. Well, I was in the shops the other day. My friend makes jewelry and he's very good. I came by and he said a man dropped off this gold signet ring with the name Aziraphale burned into it. Said he didn't know what to do with it, not many people knows the Angel, and he gave it to me." She took the ring off her finger, staring at it with an admiration before holding it out to him. "It's your name. You should have it."

"Oh I couldn't possibly take from you, dear."

She shook her head, "no it's not taking. It's a gift. It's fate, that I should have a ring for an Aziraphale just before meeting one of my very own."

"Oh dear, I couldn't -"

She interrupted him by pressing a soft kiss to the ring, taking his hand and sliding it onto his pinky finger. When she looked up, still holding his hand, Aziraphale's jaw dropped. That golden shine. Where had he seen that before? It was brief, flashing over a pair of kind eyes, but it was there all the same.

"Please accept this, Aziraphale."

"I - I will. Thank you, my dear."

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale saw her after that night. They didn't know her name, her status, or even really remember her outfit. If Cinderella was around, she would have been the prime candidate for it. Neither told each other about their experience with a strange woman until 150 years later as they talked about Henry VIII's decision to have Anne Boleyn beheaded. Nasty business that was.

1601—————

"He's really quite good," Aziraphale said, watching fondly as the actor of Hamlet lamented about life and death. It really was moving the way he toyed between truly living a life, or if death was not truly what life was about.

Aziraphale found himself doing that 'excited sigh' that Crowley described. He found it an odd way of saying his behaviors, but Crowley insisted that when Aziraphale was excited it wasn't a 'satisfied sigh' but an 'excited sigh.' To be fair, he'd said this after 2 whole bottles of wine and a shot of pure vodka, so Aziraphale couldn't grant its true authenticity. A drunk demon would truly say anything just to illicit a reaction.

The speech made him wonder what it was like to be a human, with no certainty about what happens with their souls. They don't have a guarantee about life, or death, and yet are expected to do as they are told with no questions. Crowley knew what it was like to ask questions, and it lead to scars even Aziraphale didn't know about.

"Ngk, s'pose so." Crowley grumbled, watching as the man stamped his foot on the stage. "Bit dramatic, no?"

"It'd a tragedy!" Aziraphale countered, furrowing his brows in surprise.

"Eh, I still prefer the funny ones."

Aziraphale shook his head, turning to watch the man on the stage. A flash of purple fabric caught his eye, and his gaze traveled to see a young woman peaking out from behind the railing. She was trying to stay hidden, but Aziraphale could see that she just couldn't resist the temptation to watch the rehearsal. Her eyes were bright and wide, soaking in the sight. Her clothes were dirty and well worn, a few sizes too big and the hem covered in a layer of mud. But despite it all, she looked entirely unique.

She was pretty, and Aziraphale didn't often feel as though many humans were pretty. He appreciated the art of humanity, and believed each human was their own work of art. But he didn't feel a pull to any of them, but her... she had an attraction to her. He could see her lean too far over the edge, as though the stage were dragging her in. It wasn't just a love and an admiration, it was an addiction. Aziraphale could see what was going to happen moments before it did, but it was too late. The girl tumbled over the edge and fell onto the floor of the Globe, catching the attention of everybody in the rehearsal space.

Her cheeks immediately blotted pink, covering her face in a rosy hue as the stage manager came to her with a snarl, "oi, who're you?"

"I-I-"

"You's not supposed to be 'ere," he said, grabbing her roughly by the arm and dragging her to her feet. She stumbled along as he pulled her to the entrance. "Out with you."

"Mary? Whatcha doin here?" Crowley called out, sauntering over to the man and the girl. The man stopped, looking at Crowley with a skeptical gaze. The girl's eyes widened, bright and eager, as she realized what Crowley was doing and she nodded vigorously.

"Yes, sir, I came to fetch you! Mistress Paulson requested you." She said quickly, trying to stand on her own despite the stage manager's tight grasp.

The man cocked an eyebrow, "oh yeah? You know's him?"

"Know me? Know me?" Crowley sauntered over with a cackle, "me's and Mary goes way back."

She nodded, ripping her arm from the man's grasp then standing politely. "Oh yes, Mr..."

"Oh don't bother with all the Mr Crowley Miss whatever business, just call me Anthony like any other bloke."

"Anthony has helped my sister much. He's an excellent doctor," she said, standing firm. Aziraphale watched her in awe, he was impressed. She picked up that Crowley was saving her quickly, easing into the lie with an expert comfort. She seemed familiar, as though they'd met her before. And most importantly, she was intelligent.

"Doctor? You didn't mention that about your friend," the man said to Aziraphale, his enunciation so poor he practically spat the words at Aziraphale's feet.

Aziraphale flashed a charming smile, "I hadn't realized that those particular skills would, uh, come up in a theatre of this, err,... caliber."

"I haven't the pleasure of meeting you, sir." The girl piped up, her smile was warm and gentle. But he could see in her eyes a tension, wanting to convince this man to not throw her out or worse - press charges. "My's names Mary Edwins. Friend of Mr Crowley."

Mary Edwins, clearly a fake name. Just basic enough to be believable, but enough slight hesitation that Aziraphale knew she was lying. She gave a little curtesy, spreading the oversized purple skirt over the floor. It really was too large, but she still looked charming. Aziraphale felt as though he'd seen that curtesy before. There it was, fast you could have blamed the lighting, Aziraphale knew better. There that same golden shine came over her eyes, if just for a moment. His mouth fell open in a little 'o,' unable to speak for a while 10 seconds before stuttering out, "oh, h-hello Miss Edwins, I'm Mr Fell."

The stage manager thought on it for a moment, before deciding that he wasn't paid enough to care. It was hours away from opening night, after all, and the little boy playing Ophelia needed alterations in his costume.

"Alright then," he said, walking back towards the director, a Mr William Shakespeare.

The girl was still a few feet away as Crowley walked dramatically back towards Aziraphale. The Angel tried to ignore it. He hadn't mentioned that part of it with Crowley, and he didn't know how to continue. Crowley mistook Aziraphale's expression as one of angelic smugness and rose a finger, "shut it, Angel."

"That was a good thing you did," he said with a little smile. He pushed it to the back of his mind, something to worry about when it was late and the city was asleep.

"Twasn't good, no. I was, real, I - I - I was bad. I let a criminal get away."

Aziraphale patted Crowley's shoulder, "no, dearest. You let a woman enjoy her passion. Look at her, you've saved her."

The pair glanced over at her as she tried, and failed, to subtly watch the actors get ready for their next scene. Her hand was on her heart, as though if she didn't put it there her heart would pop right out.

"Ehhh, that's not saving. Not really."

"Oh, it's not? Then what would you say is a human's purpose?" Aziraphale asked with a soft voice.

"I thought that's your job, Angel. Praising God and what not."

Aziraphale pursed his lips, looking away from Crowley. "You know as well as I that love of God is not all humans were made for. I am of the firm opinion they are here for their passions. They survive by it. They might be able to live with food and water alone, but no soul could truly exist without their drive. And this woman, her passion is theatre."

"Rather blasphemous words from an Angel."

"Rather kind actions from a demon."

Aziraphale smiled, looking towards the stage. Crowley tried to hide the blush on his ears and cheeks. It was always his ears that turned bright red from, from, well he didn't quite know from what. But he felt the heat and looked away. He looked at the girl, who perked your once she realized he saw her. She went over shyly.

Despite her apprehension, she raised her voice enough to say, "thank you for your help, Mr Crowley and Mr Fell."

"Mmm," was Crowley reply, gazing around the globe with a distinguished air about him. As if he was the most important person in the room. He tried to ignore her presence. She had a pull to her and he couldn't explain it, didn't want to address it. He already had the issue of a certain Angel who wouldn't leave his mind.

"Who are we to stop the love of the arts?" Aziraphale said, rather eccentrically. "Though you could have waited a few hours to see the whole show."

"I can't afford it," she said quietly, staring at her feet. Aziraphale noted her sweet little boots, their pointed ends digging into the dirt out of anxiety. "My mistress only gave me the morning. I need to be back in an hour."

Crowley and Aziraphale shot a glance with one another, not quite knowing how to respond. They stood in silence, the girl's eyes wide as she drank in Ophelia's mad lullabies.

"What's your name?"

"Mary Edwins."

Crowley smiled, "nice try, love. Your real name."

She cocked an eyebrow, glancing up at first at Crowley, then at Aziraphale, before looking back at her reflection in his sunglasses. "Why do you want to know?"

"We did help you, dear. We'd just love to know you, but if you cannot tell us, we won't rush you."

"Are you two a couple?" She asked quickly, pointing at the two and waving her hands in some strange, gesture of coupling. Her choice of question was so drastic, they didn't bother to notice the intentional diversion in topics.

Aziraphale looked up, mouth dropping in a little 'o' and he looked at Crowley. Crowley lifted a brow. Aziraphale answered, "We've known each other for a long time."

"That doesn't answer my question, Mr Fell."

"Aren't you a sly one, Miss Edwins." Crowley sneered, his top lip recoiling.

She just smiled, shrugging her shoulders with a little giggle. "Suppose so, Mr Crowley."

The golden shine. Crowley sucked in a harsh breath as she turned to look back at the stage. He could practically hear all his thoughts as they raced through his head, and he was unable to settle on just one. Those eyes. He hadn't seen them in years and yet this was the third woman who just happened to flirt with him, and had a gold shine go across her eyes. He reckoned she didn't know it happened, she probably didn't know what those little eyes could do to an immortal creature. Crowley swallowed, praying she never had to.

Then, the show continued and 'Mary's' eyes seemed transfixed. Aziraphale loved the theatre, Crowley enjoyed it, but 'Mary' adored it.

Crowley watched her eagerly, partly out of curiosity and partly because he liked feeling her passion in his soul as though it was her own. He found himself attracted to it, a drag of one's purpose. The passion filled her up, and she seemed to want to lean into it. She gasped as Hamlet killed his mother, she listened with eager ears as he instructed the actors on how they were to act, she cried as it seemed that everyone fell to the floor in a miserable death. Then, it was over. Actors stumbled to their feet, laughing as though they weren't stabbed with poisoned rapiers. The story was over, but 'Mary' seemed to be in a daze. Crowley watched with shrewd, yet eager eyes as she came out of it.

Then she straightened her back, smiling tightly to both of them. "Mr Fell, Mr Crowley, thank you for letting me stay. It has been such a gift. I'm afraid I must go."

"Let us escort you home," Aziraphale said, without realizing what he was offering.

She blinked wide eyes, "there's no need, sir. It's two blocks away."

Crowley lifted his chin, "love, we'd like to see you off safe."

"If you insist. Though I must tell you it's entirely through the city. Eyes will be on you at all times," she said it as a threat, a reminder to not do anything unsavory. Crowley almost frowned at that little bit of false hope. If they actually had bad intentions, a crowd wouldn't stop anything. She wasn't truly safe. But both Crowley and Aziraphale nodded, as though they truly headed her warning.

"Was that your first Shakespeare production?" Aziraphale asked, making polite conversation as he walked on one side of her, Crowley on the other.

"Oh, no. I do my best to attend all of them. I tend to prefer the funny ones, but the crowds can be a bit much for me."

"Eh? What'd you mean by that?" Crowley asked.

She blushed, "I don't like when crowds get very loud. They tend to jeer and toss things at the actors. It doesn't feel safe for anyone. I do enjoy his dramas though."

They walked in companionable silence for a moment before she asked the next question, "what do you two do? If I may, you're dressed rather odd."

"Odd?" Crowley asked with a frown, gazing down at his outfit. He was quite proud of this outfit. The ruff was amazing, really helped one feel confident.

'Mary' giggled. "I don't dislike your outfits, you just don't see these colors often."

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance, shifting in their outfits. Perhaps they do cling to their colors a bit much. But Aziraphale never felt it was a problem, he was proud of his wardrobe.

"I make my own clothes," Aziraphale said with a smile.

'Mary' lightened up, her eyes taking on a bright, sparkling quality before she actually smiled, a little tell that Aziraphale noticed. He'd seen that before, but couldn't place it. "That is quite wonderful, Mr Fell. I'd love to make my own, however I mostly sew for my mistress."

"You make her clothes?"

"Oh no, I tend to mend them."

The conversation lulled again, and Crowley bit his lip as he thought before asking the question that has been on his tongue since the play ended, "why do you love theatre so much?"

Her chest flared, her eyes wide and sparkling, and she could barely contain the words before they poured from her in excited spurts, "what's not to love? It's stories about being human wrapped up in fancy costumes and dramatic voices. It's full of stories that seem so outrageous yet we still find our way to connect. Isn't it just fascinating that you could watch a show about a man, driven mad by jealousy caused by a deceiving friend, murdering his wife and leave full of emotions? You'd think you'd be mad at the murderer, condemning him for killing his love. And yet, there's more to it than that. You can't quite hate Othello, but you can't love him either. It's so hard to explain what it is to be human, there's no word or sentence to explain it. It can be so isolating. But these stories can give us insight. I, sorry, I'm rambling," she said, taking a wistful sigh.

"Stories can be found anywhere, dear. Books, especially," Aziraphale noted. He enjoyed hearing her speak with such fire. In the back of his mind, he felt as though he could recall someone else talking about their love of stories, but he couldn't place it.

She nodded, smiling. "Yes, of course. And I adore books too. It's just... theatre is such a temporary art. Those moments on stage, or watching, could never be recreated, it could never be exactly as it was. And that's what made it so beautifully tragic. You are stuck with a slightly different story each night, with different takeaways."

"What a beautiful takeaway," Aziraphale said, watching her with a slight sort of awe.

She blushed, "I'm hardly unique in that way."

"Ngk," Crowley mumbled in disagreement, though he didn't actually say a word. Yet, she seemed to still understand what he was trying to say and blushed all the same.

As they walked, Crowley took off his sunglasses for a moment to wipe his eyes. He seemed to forget that his were unusual, yellow and with a snake like slit as a pupil.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"M'yeah," Crowley answered, opening his eyes to look at her. After the initial realization he was seeing her without glasses, thus revealing the snake like eyes, he went to shove the sunglasses back on. But she wasn't looking unkindly at him.

Instead, she smiled widely, "they're beautiful."

"Wot?" He said in shock.

"Your eyes are beautiful, Mr Crowley." Then, as Crowley sputtered in surprise, she stopped in front of an expensive flat. "This is me mistress's. Thank you, Mr Crowley and Mr Fell."

She looked both of them in the eyes as she said their names, and with equal kindness and appreciation. Then, she turned away and scampered around towards the servants entrance. Aziraphale waited until she was inside to blow out a breath.

"She was something," Crowley said.

"Yes, she was."

"I- angel, I could be wrong on this but didn't she feel-"

"Familiar?" Aziraphale finished for Crowley, looking down the alley as though she would magically reappear.

"Yes! It's so bloody weird," Crowley said, rubbing his hand along his jaw.

"Yes, weird," Aziraphale said, enunciating weird in an odd way that made Crowley furrow his brows. The two beings tried to shrug off this encounter, heading their separate ways for the time being.

1865—————

Aziraphale stared at Crowley as though he'd never seen him before, utterly gobsmacked. "I will not provide you that, that thing! It's suicide."

"Aw not for that Angel," Crowley groaned, waving his hand nonchalantly as though he hadn't asked for the one thing that would completely kill him. "Just for, err you know, protection."

"You are a demon, Crowley. The world would need protection from you."

Crowley tried to not let that sting. He'd never said as much to Aziraphale, but these last 200 years have really brought some perspective over what it is to be a demon. He found a weird sense of discomfort over the word demon. As though he were entirely bad because of what he was, and not what he does. But he'd never say it, or tell Aziraphale he accidentally rhymed.

"It's not like that, I just want to secure myself. That's all."

Aziraphale pursed his lips and looked away, not bearing the thought that his closest acquaintance would dare to think of something like that. It was simply not going to happen, Aziraphale refused to let that happen. Crowley was going to live forever, with Aziraphale, and he was going to do so happily. He'd never tell Crowley, of course, but Aziraphale didn't know if he could manage eternity without him.

"Oi! That can't have that!" Crowley said quickly, throwing himself off the bench and facing towards a woman standing by the river.

She turned to look at the, in her view, random man dressed in mourning garb barreling towards her and shouting in a thick accent. She clutched the loaf of bread close to her chest, eyeing him warily as he continued rambling.

"Bread's not good for 'em, it can - can - can cause diseases," he said once he got close to her.

She sucked in a breath. He was taller than he'd looked from afar, and she found herself staring at him. He was also quite handsome, with tanned skin and shocking bright red hair, curled away from his face. She noticed a pair of odd looking spectacles hiding his eyes, and a tattoo peaking out beneath his sideburns.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," she said breathlessly. She felt kind of stupid now, holding a loaf of bread as he stared at her with a passion for the ducks. A man dressed in all beige apparel came by quickly, standing by the other man's side. He looked kind, with bright blue eyes and plush pink lips she didn't even realize she'd taken note of.

"I'm terribly sorry for my friend's outburst," Aziraphale said to the woman, still looking shellshocked. "Though I'm afraid he is right, bread is not the best for them."

She looked down and stared at it. "Right, well I apologize. I hadn't been doing it long, if it's of any comfort."

Crowley grumbled but didn't say anything else, eyeing her with skepticism. After a pause where the three stood in silence, the woman tore the loaf into three sections. She then offered up a piece to each of the men, "better we eat it than them?"

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a glance, they hadn't expected this. Maybe it was the mood of St James's Park or the pull of this young girl, but they reached out to accept their proffered piece.

Just then a golden shine passed over her eyes. Both men's jaws dropped as they'd never shared of this particular detail of their stories, and had never experienced it together. And, for the first time, she seemed conscious of it too.

A hand went up to her cheeks just below her eyes, which had grown wide in surprise. "What was that?"

"Pardon?" Aziraphale asked in that slightly tense voice he had when he was covering up for something.

"The, my, my eyes. I was looking and then it went all - gold like."

"Oh I don't know about that," Aziraphale said.

She shook her head vehemently, pointing at the both of them. "Yours did too, and yours!"

"You saw our eyes shine gold?" Crowley asked shyly.

"Y-yes. I saw through your spectacles. The whole eye, it went gold -"

"It must have been a trick of the light, dearest. Eyes don't 'go gold.'"

She shook her head again, "no. I know what I saw. I, I think I'd better go. Thank you for the, the, the ducks."

"Wait-" "Don't go-" Aziraphale and Crowley started at the same time, but she'd already lifted her skirts so she could walk away as quickly as possible.

"She saw it this time," Crowley said, mouth open in surprise.

"This time? This time? You've had a girls eyes shine gold before?" Aziraphale asked, trying to ignore the way his heart ramped up at the news. Crowley felt it too, it wasn't all him.

"And by the sound of it, you have too."

"Yes, I have. But only thrice before, 55BC, 13-"

"-77 and 1601."

Aziraphale's blue eyes widened and he stared at Crowley in shock, "I- I, how did you know?"

"Same for me, Angel. Same for me."

"So she's connected then, to the both of us." Aziraphale said slowly, trying to work it all out in his head. Crowley nodded, pursing his lips and making a 'tsk' noise under his breath.

"She's looked different each time. I don't think she's an Angel or a demon," Crowley said, ripping off a small piece of the bread she gave him and tossing it into the water. No, it wasn't good for them but who cares at this point. They were eternally connected to something.

"No, I think you're quite right. She's something else entirely. I'll have to do some research, I'll let you know if I have anything of note."

Crowley swallows, "same 'ere."

"Okay. Well then, good afternoon to you," Aziraphale tipped his hat and wandered off back to his book shop, his head completely filled with ideas of shapeshifters and witches, all sorts of creatures.

Current Day—————

Crowley parked the Bentley outside Aziraphale's shop, the wheel a slight tap before getting out. It was cold today, and he saw dozens of people shuffling into Nina's shop for some warmth. He himself was freezing but he knew even slightly suggesting to Aziraphale would earn him some pampering, blanket tucked in, hot chocolate, and near undivided angelic attention. Normally he didn't like asking for it, but it's been a weird few years with the Armageddon't, and he could use some pampering.

He felt a pang in his chest, a strange sort of pull he didn't know what to do with. What did humans do when their hearts hurt? Then it struck him - he wasn't human. Why would his heart be hurting?

"Oi, you doing okay?" A voice said from the pavement outside Aziraphale's shop. Crowley looked up, surprised to see Nina with a bag full of ingredients.

"What're you doing out

She held up the bag with a raised brow, as though he was stupid to just suggest it, "you're alright then?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. But you haven't got other staff and the place's full."

"Oh, yeah, forgot you didn't know about that." Nina said dryly. "I hired a new barista. Name's Y/N. New to town."

There it was, that pull dragging him towards her shop. He couldn't explain, tried to rack his brain as to what would want him in there. He glanced back through the windows, trying to see if anything was amiss.

Each instance with her seemed to last for a second, barely enough to know if it was the truth or a trick of the light. But Crowley had lived long enough on enough stupid planets to know that when he saw something that wasn't typically there, it wasn't a figment of his imagination. He swallowed, trying to betray anything to Nina.

"Right. Well then, better get back to it," he said, moving past her shoving his way into Aziraphale's bookshop.

"Oh Crowley, wonderful you're here-"

"Yes, yes, I'm wonderful, you're wonderful, the world's bloody wonderful. Angel, do you remember in 1865 when we saw her in St James's Park?"

There wasn't a need to clarify who the 'her' was. Aziraphale straightened, removing his spectacles from his nose. "Yes, I do."

"And you remember when you said you'd research it and report back, but never did?"

"Yes, I do. Crowley-"

"I need that research now, Angel." Crowley said quickly, not letting Aziraphale ask more pointless questions.

"Nothing came of it, dear, that's why I'd never told you. We would have sensed if she was a witch, angel, demon, or anything other supernatural. We have those senses."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Crowley, what happened? What did you see?"

"She's here."

Aziraphale's eyebrows shot up and he placed a surprise hand on his chest, not quite knowing what to do with that information. "Here?!"

"In London. In the coffee shop, in Nina's coffee shop. I - I saw her. There was a golden thread between us. I know it's her, Angel. She looks different but she has every time. It's her."

"You saw a golden thread?"

"Yes."

Aziraphale put his spectacles back on, heading for one of his bookshelves towards the back of the shop, "are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, Angel, I'm bloody positive."

"A Golden thread has never shown up before. The previous times were all the, err, the eyes. This means something." Aziraphale said, gathering the dusty book from his shelf and depositing it on his desk with a thud. "In Greek mythology the golden thread was your life line. Your life thread so to speak. Fate, destiny, the whole nine yards."

"Yes, Angel, but the Greeks were wrong and that's how we exist so what does it mean for us?" Crowley grabbed a chair and fell into it, placing a frustrated hand on his temple.

Aziraphale thumbed through pages until he found what he was looking for. He read the words, but it only helped to scrunch his brow. "This doesn't make any sense. The threads only have two colors, two avenues."

"What do the threads mean, Angel?" His tone pained in frustration. This girl was scaring him, and he couldn't explain why. As far as he knew she presented no threat to him. And yet all the same, he feared her. He wasn't a fan of the unknown. Everything had been so planned out for so long, even though he didn't like the idea of the world ending it was a plan nonetheless.

"It says here that white thread is for eternal blessings. Saints and what not. Black thread for eternal damnation. But it only exists on a human while they are alive."

"Wot? I don't see black threads on people, d'you see white threads?"

Aziraphale adjusted his spectacles, "it says here they only appear if an Angel, or in your case, dearest, a demon, specifically bless them. Or, err, curse them."

"Still, you'd think 6,000 years and I woulda seen something."

Aziraphale nodded in agreement, "I've not seen any either."

"Wait, how'd you know about all this then?" Crowley waved a hand vaguely in between Aziraphale and the book.

Aziraphale looked confused for a moment, "all this? Oh, ah, you mean how I've come to know about the threads? Well it is to my understanding that this was brought up by Michael -"

"Head honcho Michael?" Crowley asked.

"Yes, though I wouldn't use such human terms myself. Michael had thought it up around 100BC. Thought it would be a fun way of identifying humans. But the upstairs didn't fancy the idea, She dispelled it not too long after."

"Hmm... never woulda pictured that out of Michael."

"Well, they say you never really know someone." Aziraphale replied, looking back over the pages as Crowley began to ramble.

"Always thought that applied to killers. No one ever says that 'bout the good deeds, they only say it after you've hurt someone. If someone's killed a kid, everyone's all up in arms like 'you never really knew 'em.' But if someone's a paramedic no one's like 'you never really know-'"

Aziraphale felt his jaw drop open as the words at the bottom of the page finally clicked. Part of the reason Michael's plan never worked, at least according to Gabriel, was that the wording was too specific. "No one uses 'eternally' in their everyday vocabulary," he had argued. Back then Aziraphale had quite agreed with Gabriel, but everyone agreed with Gabriel if it meant shutting Michael up. But he remembered a time not long before the thread idea was vanished when he had used the word 'eternally' in conversation. He reread to be sure, then piped up over Crowley's random complaining, "C-Crowley... do you remember what you said to her in 55BC?"

Crowley's face scrunched as he tried to think all the way back. "I, uh, tripped her. On accident, then she called me an asshole and I-I damned her for eternity I think."

"Oh dear."

"What does this 'oh dear' me? Angel?" When Aziraphale didn't say anything Crowley got up, stalking over to him quickly. "What did you see?"

"I blessed her for eternity."

"So? What's that mean?"

"I-I think, and I could be very very wrong, however I think that means we've, err, we've trapped her soul in an endless strain between Heaven and Hell."

"No, no, no, no," Crowley started to say, unconsciously pacing as he tried to unravel it all in his head. "That doesn't make any sense. Her thread is gold, white and black don't make gold. It makes grey, she should be grey!"

"I think the color of her thread is far from our biggest issue, Crowley."

"So, so what? She's trapped to us?"

Aziraphale ran a hand down his face, trying to process. "I- she might be."

"But her body's changed each time. It's not the same woman."

"Ah, but her eyes. They've stayed the same. You know as well as I do they're the same."

Crowley stopped, knowing he didn't have grounds to argue. Aziraphale was right, after all. Then he groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Fucking hell-"

"Language," Aziraphale said with pursed lips.

"Wot? For the fucking or the hell part?" Crowley snapped, then upon seeing Aziraphale's dropped expression he immediately retracted. "I'm sorry. That was rude. You're not getting the stupid dance though. Angel, she's not immortal. Her soul is. She must just keep being, being reborn. But the soul from 55BC is still the same."

"That would make sense," Aziraphale said. "They do say the eyes are the window into the soul. Perhaps that explains why they remain while the rest of her can change."

"Yeah, yeah. It makes sense, don't it?"

"So we've accidentally trapped a human soul to Earth to live and die for eternity?"

"Yeah, yeah," Crowley sniffed. "Think we did, Angel."

There was a quiet pause as the two reflected on what they just realized. They, unwittingly, had created an immortal creature. She doesn't even know she's immortal, and by the past experience it sounds as if her mind is wiped with each death. But her soul lives on.

"Fuck," Aziraphale said quietly.

Crowley looked up sharply, "wot'd you say?"

"I said fuck." He repeated, with more confidence this time around.

On any normal circumstance, Crowley would laugh and cherish the moment he saw Aziraphale curse - and with fuck of all of them - but he couldn't help but think Aziraphale was right. Fuck, indeed.

"What do we do?" Crowley asked.

"We have to tell her."

"We do? Why's that? What d'ya think we're gonna say? Hi random stranger I'm a demon he's an Angel and your soul is stuck, here have a cuppa."

"Well that would be straightforward -"

"Sarcasm, Angel. You've been here for thousands of years and you still don't process sarcasm."

Aziraphale stood up and went over to Crowley, touching his shoulders so he'd look up to him. "I understand that this is difficult. This is, it's entirely unprecedented territory. But she deserves the truth." He leaned in, his voice but a whisper. "It does help that we both feel a pull to her. Once we see her, it hurts to no interact. Perhaps we can find a way to end this, to help her."

Crowley swallowed, looking away from Aziraphale's bright blue eyes. He smelled of vanilla and old books, a scent Crowley would bottle up and spray all over his stupid, cold flat if he could. Maybe this girl could help, maybe she was good. But they first needed to meet her.

"Alright. Fine. Let's go, now," Crowley said, sliding his sunglasses back on. Aziraphale nodded and retrieved his coat.

The pair walked out of the bookshop, locking up, and swiftly walked cross the street. They hesitated outside the door, neither knowing what to do. A flash of a blue apron in the window caught their attention, and then a golden thread, shining in the light, emerged and wrapped round the owners waist.

"You seeing that, Angel?"

"Y-yes, I am. It's not faded."

It didn't. It sparkled and swayed in the air, moving with the owners body as she walked around in the shop.

"On three," Aziraphale said. Crowley grumbled in agreement. "One, two ... three."

They opened the doors and were almost immediately greeted by a sweet smile and kind eyes. The same eyes they'd seen for hundreds of years. She smiled, tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

"Hi guys, welcome in! Feel free to take a seat wherever you like, I'll be with you in a moment."

"O-okay," Aziraphale said, his voice wispy in the confusion and whirlwind that was her. But she was entirely unaware, blissfully living in her own world that she didn't know was about to be ruined.

They sat in a far corner, away from any windows. Crowley sprawled in the seat, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale. Aziraphale sat stiff as a bored, left leg bouncing so furiously the table itself started to shake.

"Right, what can I get you lads?" She seemed to appear out of nowhere, shining golden thread wrapped round her sweet waist right where the apron was tied.

Aziraphale spoke first, not looking her in the eye but instead staring out the window. An uncharacteristically rude action on his part. "Oh, um, just a latte please. With 3 shots of vanilla."

"Ooo, yum. And for you, the one with the glasses?" She asked, her voice light.

Crowley thought for a moment. Better bite the bullet, eh? He turned, took his sunglasses off, and looked her in the eyes. "Espresso, darling."

Her eyes had a golden flash and she seemed to jump, her pad falling to the table in her shock. She looked between Aziraphale and Crowley with wide eyes, hands going to her stomach as she took deep breaths. "Aziraphale. Your name is Aziraphale," she said to him. Eyes wide. She turned to the demon. "You're Crowley."

"Yes, dear, we are."

"Why do I know that?" Her voice was shaky and yet she stayed, not angry or scared that she knew unknowable information.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance. Crowley sighed, flicking his hand. Time around them stopped. Customers held their mugs up in the air, Nina mid pouring a cup, and a man getting ready to ask for the most ridiculous drink he could think of. All were trapped in this moment except for her, Aziraphale and Crowley.

She jumped, looking around with wide eyes, "h-how'd you do that? Why did you do that?"

"Please, take a seat dear," Aziraphale said, snapping as a plush chair appeared behind her. She tripped into it, her body language stuff and frightened.

"This is all feeling like a very strange dream, and I don't like it," she said, taking deep breaths to try and clear her mind. "Did you just stop time and if so, how the hell did you? And you just miraculously created a chair? And why do I know who the hell you are?"

"Dearest, it's not a dream, I'm afraid. You have met us before. You've met us multiple times before," Aziraphale took a breath. "I-I'm afraid we have some complicated news."

"Tell me who the hell you are!" She was getting scared, her heart fighting against her rib cage. She wanted to get up, she wanted to run away, put her hands over her ears and scream 'la la la' over and over until they left her alone. But she didn't. It wasn't a physical thing, even though these familiar strangers had put her in a terrifying position she knew they'd let her go. It was her soul that kept her trapped. "Who are you? I need to know. Who are you really?"

Aziraphale placed a warm hand on her own. His was large, soft and yet strong. She liked the feeling of his hands as he held one of hers, looking into her eyes. "My name is Aziraphale. I am an Angel of God. I was the Guardian of the East Gate at the Garden of Eden, but now I am on Earth. I perform miracles and I run a bookshop, with my dearest friend."

His eyes glanced over to the other man. He was handsome, tanned skin with fiery red hair slicked up and back over his head. Aziraphale might have called him a friend, but she wasn't stupid enough to believe that. It was more than that, maybe they didn't know it but she definitely did.

Another hand grasped hers, this one lean and long. He grasped her hand with a soft intensity she didn't know possible. "My name's Crowley. I'm a demon, you'd know me cause I was a, uh, let's call me a reptile."

She blinked rapidly, "you were the snake that tempted Eve?"

"Wow, she's a quick one," Crowley smiled widely.

"Wasn't he cursed to only use his belly?"

Crowley rolled his eyes, "it's complicated."

"You, both, are not human. You're an Angel and you're a demon. So Christianity is right."

"Yes, love. But God is actually a She, that bit got muddled," Aziraphale smiled. "Are you feeling better?"

"That doesn't explain, why- why do I know you? I recognize both of you, but I don't know why. Then you made that comment about having met me multiple times, for years, what does that mean?" She was getting a little riled but she tried to stay calm. This wasn't going to make any more sense by screaming at a literal demon. And Angel, but the demon was more infuriating at the moment. He stared at her with a mix of awe and shock, and she didn't want to think about any of it.

Aziraphale sighed, "before the current era, you know Roman times and what not, the Archangel Michael played with the idea of threads. It was similar in concept to the Greek idea of fate -"

"You happened to be alive when this was a thing. It means when a demon curses you and says the word 'eternally' a black thread'll appear to let everyone know you're damned forever. White thread with angels."

"I'm damned forever? Wait, you said Roman times - I was alive during the ancient roman era?"

"Well, darling, he blessed you and I cursed you at the same day. Meaning your soul is trapped with both Heaven and Hell," Crowley said softly. "We think your soul has been reincarnated since about 55BC. And it's because of us. This Golden shit you see is our connection."

"But white and black make grey?"

Crowley clapped and said "aha! She gets it!"

"Crowley," Aziraphale said, though his eyes were light with amusement. "We can't explain the color of the thread. But we believe it means you're connected to us. Both of us, we get this pull to you when you're around. As though we have to see you."

There was a moment of silence as they let her collect her thoughts. Unconsciously, she'd curled up into a ball on the comfy chair Aziraphale had miracled. She thought and thought, rolling over the idea that she's trapped here on earth. An accidental immortal being tied to these two.

She glanced at Aziraphale. She knew him, she has known him. She bit her lip, wishing to understand everything as it was.

"M-May I?" She asked, tentatively lifting a hand near his face. She needed to touch him, to feel him, to try and remember.

The Angel nodded. He was soft, his hair light and white, in short curls on top of his head. She liked the curls, they looked rather fetching on him. Her fingertips brushed lightly down his face, feeling his kind face. She liked his lips, they were pink and couldn't fight a smile. Then she glanced down and saw his hand in his lap. Running an hand down his shoulder to his hand, she lifted it and eyed the golden ring.

"Aziraphale..." she murmured. It all started to fall into place. The dancing, the food, the wine. He'd looked so out of place in pale clothing, so obviously finer than anyone else's. He'd tried to blend in with an outdated style, to balance the richness, but she could spot him through the crowd with ease. His cheeks had gotten pink, and he'd gone for a drink. She hadn't meant to spill on him, she just wanted a chat. "I gave you this ring. You didn't want it at first, but I gave it to you. It says Aziraphale on it."

He took a shaky breath, his eyes becoming glassy with tears. His lips trembled as he said, "you did."

Aziraphale slid the ring off his finger, turning it so she could see the inside. There enough his name was scrawled in haphazard writing. It had faded from the years, some of the details lost to time. But she remembered this ring when it was new. When William had gotten it in his shop and didn't know what to make of it. And she'd taken it, knew it would be special.

She pressed a soft kiss to the ring, then slid it back on Aziraphale's finger. She looked him in the eyes as she kissed the back of his hand, "I remember you."

The tears had actually fallen now, hitting his cheeks softly. He didn't try to hide it, and she wouldn't want him to. Perhaps it was this whole eternal blessing thing, but she was drawn to him.

Then she turned to the demon. Crowley. He sat high and mighty in his chair, looking away as though he were intruding on Aziraphale's private moment. He was handsome in a different way than Aziraphale. Where Aziraphale was soft and strong, Crowley was sharp and sweet. She smiled when she looked at him, knowing he was sweet without saying it.

She went to him to, lifting her hand then asking softly, "may I touch you?"

He swallowed, and nodded. She first touched his hair, it was softer then it looked. Her fingertips brushed it so it feel on his forehead, liking the contrast of his skin against the red. Then she traced along his tattoo, the way his cheekbone felt under her touch.

With gentle hands, she cupped his cheeks and turned his face so he had to look her in the eyes. She smiled. "I'd wondered if they were still yellow."

He closed his eyes, cringing. He'd always hated his eyes. "Sorry they're-"

"Beautiful." He opened his eyes quickly. "I remember your eyes. They've been in my dreams and I never knew why. The man with the yellow snake eyes. They are so, so beautiful. Like a sunflower."

"You're comparing s'demon eyes to a sunflower?"

She smiled and nodded, "you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

Crowley sucked in a breath, closing his eyes. It as though the attention itself would make him implode.

"Keep them closed," she said. Then he felt a pair of soft lips kiss one eyelid, then the other. "Absolutely beautiful. Don't you think so, Aziraphale?"

Crowley was shocked to hear Aziraphale agree. "I adore your eyes, dear. They've been my favorite for a long time."

The three didn't know what to do with themselves, time frozen around them. But however strange the situation, she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. She wanted to get to know this Angel and demon, understand their pasts and more about their connection.

“Thank you, my dear, for your patience,” Aziraphale said kindly.

“I suppose I should be thanking you, you’ve waited hundreds of years.” She said with a dry laugh that made Crowley smile.

There weren’t any words that seemed to describe the moment the three of them shared, in a moment frozen in time knowing they had all the time in the world. But for now it was enough, and that was all it needed to be.

[ilovetheriddler]

Ehehe, I loved the Arkham Eddie fic! I would love to see a sequel where they sleep together, and other than that I’d just leave it up to you! The fic is your oyster, anything you’d like and I’ll love it!

:)

Smiley! I'm glad you liked it! It was really enjoyable to write, and I'll happily do a sequel! I hope that you enjoy it!

Fulfilled Desires.

(Arkham Games) Edward Nigma x F!Reader.

Word Count: 1,610.

Contents: 🔞NSFW 18+! Slight degradation, praise, slightly rougher sex.

It had been a few months since you were put in that position where you had to work alongside him, and he had only gotten worse in that time. Originally, he used to harrass and torment batman nonstop with riddles and puzzles, but now he was focusing on you instead! It baffled you. Did you really piss him off that much with what you said back then? You couldn't have, not to the extent of his determination to seemingly trap you.

Why? You weren't sure. Perhaps to humiliate you, mock you, insult you, heck, maybe even just outright kill you! Eddie was incredibly difficult to predict and read sometimes, and it terrified you. But it also turned you a bit on as well, much to your frustration.

Yes, that's right. You'd found yourself somewhat drawn to the grease covered, stained shirt wearing, question mark motif, riddle loving menace himself. As a hero, you'd honestly rather die than admit it outloud.

And now here you were, tangled up in a net that was a part of his latest scheme. You let out a frustrated sigh as you noticed the man of the hour himself walk in, the same smug look he always had on his face.

"Well, it seems you've gotten yourself.... a bit stuck in one of my puzzles again, doesn't it?"

"Oh, shut it, Eddie, I'm getting sick and tired of your puzzles! Can't you just go back to bothering Batman instead?!"

"Unfortunately, I can't, The Caped Crusader is incapable of giving me what I want, what I desire...."

You gave him a somewhat curious yet also still annoyed glance.

"And what exactly is it that you want?"

"Oh, it's very simple.... I want you."

"E-Excuse me?!"

Your eyes went wide as Edward slowly and carefully approached the net you were trapped in, leaning against the wall nearby as he took in your current state. An amused chuckle slipped past his lips before he spoke again.

"You heard me, I want you, and to clarify further as to not confuse you more, I mean sexually, carnally, physically, whatever way you want to phrase it!"

You soaked in his words for a few moments, your thoughts running wild at what they meant. On one hand, you should be appalled by them as a hero, on the other hand, you really wanted to be fucked by the riddler. The latter won out, though, after some thought.

"....Alright then, I'll have sex with you."

"W-wait, that actually worked?! I mean, of course it worked! There's no one who could resist my irresistible charm!"

Edward immediately got started on cutting you out of the net. You watched him closely, observing the way that the sweat dripped down his decently strong forearms. Damn, this became a better and better decision the more you thought about it. The moment the net was loose, he quickly picked you up in his arms, carrying you through his lair and to his rundown bedroom with a quickness that was honestly kind of terrifying.

He set you down on his bed and stood there for a moment, a focused expression present on his face.

"Um... Eddie? What are you doing?"

"Quiet, I'm thinking! I've thought about how this would go several times before, yet I want to make sure that I have it perfect in my mind beforehand!"

You moved back on the bed to lie down, shrugging off your jacket and tossing it to the floor as you did. Eventually, he seemed to work out whatever scenario he had in his head because he removed his button-up question mark shirt, moving up onto the bed, crawling on top of you.

"Now, my dear.... before we start, I want you to tell me something."

"Okay, what?"

"Tell me that I'm better than every one of those so-called heroes that you work alongside, that I'm superior in every conceivable way!"

You sighed a bit in annoyance, rolling your eyes.

"Fine, oh Eddie! You're better than all those stupid heroes. You're so intelligent and superior to them in every way! ....There, Happy?"

"Overjoyed, now... I suppose there's no time to waste, hmm?"

You were about to respond, but your words died in your throat as his lips crashed onto yours, in a rough and messy entanglement. His hands yanked on your hair, causing you to moan as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring the area with a mixture of methodical interest and frenzied passion. After a few seconds, he pulled away, leaving you gasping frantically for air, a small trail of saliva just barely connecting your mouths.

"Look at you, you're already a mess, and I haven't even really done anything yet. It's frankly pathetic!"

You felt your face heat up in humiliation as a needy whine escaped you. As much as you didn't want to admit it, you loved his mocking tone, his harsh words. they turned you on more than they should have. His eyes seemed to light up as he realized how much you enjoyed it.

"Oh, I see. You like being degraded, don't you? Or is it only when it's me degrading you? Hmm?"

"Perhaps I do. Is that a problem?"

"Absolutely not, my dear! It's perfect...."

He slowly kisses your jaw before moving down along your neck and to your shoulder, leaving harsh kisses and occasional bites. You let out a surprised and slightly alarmed yelp as he tore off your shirt. Tossing the remnants of it on the floor.

"Damn it, Eddie! W-would it have killed you to just unbutton it?!"

"It would have taken too long, I don't want to waste my time on pointless efforts! However, I do have to appreciate the fact that you didn't wear a bra today. It saves me a few seconds of time."

His mouth moves down to your chest, one of his hands reaching up and cupping one of your breasts, giving it a firm squeeze as he watched your face to take in your reaction, your cute gasps and sounds. You move your hands to the edge of his filthy tank top, attempting to pull it off him. He graciously lifted his arms to help you as you pulled it over his head and threw it off to wherever it ultimately landed.

You could feel your mouth practically watering as you gazed upon his bare chest. The sight of his unkempt course chest hair causing you to feel more aroused than you hypothetically thought it would. Your eyes drift down to the trail of hair leading into his pants. Of course, since your eyes were already glancing down there, you couldn't help but stare at the already extremely pronounced erection straining against the front of his pants.

"...Are you really that desperate sweetheart? Your mouth is practically watering.... do you really need it that badly?"

"S-shut up! I..I was just distracted..."

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of both your pants and underwear and pulled them off quickly, discarding them in the floor. Firmly grasping your thighs and spreading them apart, licking his lips slightly as he took in the sight of your dripping sex.

After a few moments of staring, he dipped his head down, burying his face in between your legs, eagerly lapping at your arousal. A loud whine escaped you as his tongue dipped inside.

"A-ah... Eddie....."

Your eyes went wide as he added one of his fingers along with his focused efforts of devouring you. Pleased and needy groans occasionally, leaving his lips and sending shivers up your spine.

A desperate and frustrated whine left you as he suddenly stopped and pulled back slightly. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with his desire and lust for you in this moment.

"Aw... Are you unsatisfied? Do you want more?"

"...Y-yes.... please...."

"Good girl.... do you need my cock? Is that what you need so badly?"

You nodded eagerly. If he didn't stop teasing you, then you were going to lose it. He chuckled at your needy and frustrated state as he quickly unbuckled his belts, pulling them from the loops and yanking his pants and boxers down, his hard cock springing up as it was freed from its previously constrained fabric. He wrapped your legs losesly around his waist.

"Now... Riddle me this, What is wet, whiney, and in desperate need of something hard?"

"... Is it me?"

He let out an amused chuckle before harshly thrusting into you.

"That's correct!"

He set a brutal and unforgiving pace that left you breathless and practically overwhelmed with pleasure. The addictive feeling of his cock hammering in and out of you has you already near the edge. He hisses out in between moans.

"F-fuck!...you feel so good, like you were made just for me...."

Your nails dig into his back as you try to hold onto him, a melody of moans, whimpers, and whines escape you, only serving to add to his ego. His breath fans over your ear.

"It feels good, doesn't it? Being so full of my cock? I'm the only one that could make you feel like this, aren't i?!"

You nod frantically as you're pushed over the edge, screaming out his name as you climax, his own following shortly after, with a tight grip on your hips and a broken moan he empties his cum into you, slowly starting to slow down his frantic thrusts as he comes down from the feeling.

He pulled out of you and rolled over to lay next to you, catching his breath as he presses a few surprisingly gentle and sweet kisses to your forehead, holding you close to him.

[muddyorbsblr]

slipping between future and past [SAS secret santa 2023]

View the full SAS Secret Santa 2023 Masterlist here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: You give your friend a few pointers on what to know about Yule, and come across a familiar looking stranger in your bookstore.

Pairing: Loki x Reader/OC Talia Williams

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, please leave I'm asking nicely); unprotected p in v sex; cunnilingus; magical restraints; language; possibly wonky interpretation of time travel & timeslipping; possibly wonky understanding of Yule [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship; still written in 2nd Person POV like my other 'x Reader' stories, but this time Reader has a name and it's "Talia Williams"; this is a secret santa request for @acidcasualties

Dick-tionary: smut starts at "the feel of your hands being brought" and ends at "as he marked your skin"

It was uncharacteristically slow today in the bookstore, barely a handful of people walking in, browsing for a few minutes, and then promptly exiting when they see that you didn't carry the middle school dystopia book series all the kids were raving over. It was a colossal waste of their time and yours, considering there would have been less effort had they just taken even a cursory look at the sign by the door.

You didn't carry children's books. Classics, Myths, and Romance only.

Of the number of people that walked through the doors that you could count on your two hands, you could only count those that actually made a purchase with one. Half of one.

The sound of the door chimes brought your attention to the entrance again, seeing your friend Ariadne bounding into the front area of the store with a frantic look in her eye. "Talia," she panted, headed straight for you. "Babes, I need your help. Are you busy? You got a customer back there?"

"Nope. Just me," you called out, stepping out from behind the counter. "What's wrong? What do you need?"

"Okay so…you know that guy I'm seeing?"

"Uhh…I think so? Lee, right?"

"Leif. Think trees, Babes. Anyways, he wants me to meet his family and apparently they're super into the ancient Norse traditions, so I need a crash course on how they celebrate Christmas." She paced back and forth by the table that held the New York Times bestsellers that you did hold stock for, picking up a copy of the stalker dark romance duology. "His sister likes to read, you think she'll appreciate this?"

You immediately rushed over to her, grabbing the book and nearly slamming it back down on the stack. "You gotta let them crawl before they walk. Let alone sprint," you explained, giving her Beautiful Bastard instead. "This should be a good enough in between, just in case she's not into guns being shoved up anyone's vagina--"

Up where?! she shrieked, grabbing the first book again, along with the sequel and the book you were handing her. "Okay I'll take that for his sister, and these two for me."

"This is exactly why we're friends," you quipped, ringing up her order. "Now about that other thing…you do know that just because I own a bookshop, it doesn't mean that I know everything about everything, right?"

She rolled her eyes at you. "Yeah, but I also know that you live for all these myths and folk tales, so I bet you know a thing or two about Viking Christmas."

"Alright fine. Find a chair and settle in," you said with an overly dramatic wave of your hand. "First things first, it's not called 'Viking Christmas', it's called 'Yule'. Immediately if you wanna get on his family's good side, you say Good Yule because it shows that you did at least a customary Google search before you stepped foot on their property." You handed her a small notepad and a pencil. "You're gonna wanna write this down."

When her scribbling down stopped, she perked up with a question. "Do they have a Santa Claus?"

"Yes and no," you answered her, prepping two cups of coffee and handing one over to her before plopping down on your own seat in the reading nook, your favorite one in the entire shop. "Santa Claus is what we call who the Brits refer to as 'Father Christmas'. The Brits got that from 'Yule Figure' from the Viking mythology and Mr Yule Figure himself is...Odin."

"Wait wait hold up." She shot up her hand like a kid asking questions in class. "So Odin is Santa? He goes around little Viking kiddies' neighborhoods and slides down the chimney to give them wooden axes and swords?"

"Hmmm not quite. The whole making a list and checking it twice to give the good little boys and girls presents on Christmas is...not quite how the Vikings do it. Instead they engage in something called the Wild Hunt, where Odin aka Big Yule Father Kahuna calls on his posse of gods and plays a game of non-consensual hide and seek with the living souls. So us being the 'living mortals', we have to find a safe enough hiding place that Odin and Thor and the rest of the Norse gods don't find us, because if they do…they drag us to the Underworld."

"Okay first of all, yikes." Ariadne made a big show of shuddering in her seat over what you just told her. "Can't it be something a little bit less morbid? Like if Thor finds you he drags you to his den of iniquity and has his wicked way with you?"

"I mean it's all myths and folklore anyway," you shot back with a small shrug as you finished off your coffee. "So maybe when the big girls are off in their own corner, we can smut it up and pretend that if someone other than Odin finds us, we can get some happy fun times." You both broke out into giggles at your wording. "And when we're telling the story to the smaller kiddos, we say that the gods only go after the naughty kids. Keep with the spirit of Christmas and all that." You wagged a finger in her direction, giving her another suggestion. "Or in the case of meeting Leif's family, just think which one's gonna have him more devastated, your soul getting dragged into the Underworld or your body getting dragged to Thor's man cave."

She wrote down some more notes on her little notepad before standing up, brimming with excitement. "Okay I think that's all I need. Hopefully…"

"Babes, you're there to meet the family, not get gatekeeper gamer boy levels of interrogated on what you know about Yule. As soon as you don't say 'Merry Viking Christmas', you're in the clear."

She squealed, rushing over to wrap her arms around you and give you a tight squeeze. "Thank you thank you! You just saved me from looking a total ditz meeting his family. I have a really good feeling about this one, you know?"

You gave her a squeeze back, happy that she was finally in a relationship that felt stable enough to start on that family she'd always wanted.

Maybe one day you could be so lucky with your own love life.

"I'm really happy for you, Aria. Let me know how it goes when you get back, okay?"

You worked on wrapping up the book she intended to gift Leif's sister as she asked you another question. "What about mistletoe? Do they have that in Yule?"

You scrunched her nose and shook your head at her question. "Yes and no again. Yes, they've assigned meaning to the plant but no, you don't kiss under it for fear of spending the next year all alone. They believe it to be a symbol for fertility, so it's been known for couples to hang it above their headboards so that their holiday fun times might lead to a child. It's also seen as a symbol for new life or resurrection because there's another folktale that says that Loki fashioned a weapon from the mistletoe plant to kill Baldur, and Frigga's tears turned the white berries red and resurrected her fallen son. Which if you ask me is a steaming pile of horse shit that's almost more ridiculous than how Siegfried was felled in the Nibelungenlied, but that's a story for another day."

"Hold up, but isn't Loki also a son of Frigga?"

You shrugged. "Who knows what's real and what's not at this point? These tales are thousands of years old. All we know right now is that Thor's real and he's friends with a billionaire that made a fancy iron suit and a soldier from the 40s that doesn't even look like he's hit his mid-20s. And that he dated an astrophysicist. Tell you what, if I ever meet him, I'll ask him myself. Maybe I'll even ask him what exactly goes down in the Wild Hunt if they still do it in this century."

"Ooh, if he walks into the store please text me?" You gave her a questioning look. "What? He's my hall pass. Leif knows all about it. Natasha Romanoff's his."

You handed her the gift-wrapped book. "Pinky promise, I'll tell you as soon as a 6'4 muscular Barbie looking dude from Asgard swinging a hammer and summoning thunder and lightning walks into my shop. Maybe I'll even text you if the Black Widow herself walks in so that Leif would owe a favor or two."

"Hey, it could happen," she quipped, sticking her tongue out at you like you were back in the sandbox. "We're in New York, after all. And Avengers Tower's just a ten minute walk away. You never know, you know?"

"Right," you breathed, waving her off as she neared the door. "Merry Yule."

"Merry Crisis," she shot back, blowing you a kiss as she stepped into the cold New York night.

You started cleaning the store so you could close up for the night when a new voice pierced through the quiet.

"I appreciate your refusal to believe that hokum about the mistletoe, darling. It warms my cold Jotun heart knowing that it's safe in your brilliant hands."

Large hands found themselves at your waist before your new visitor's arms wrapped around you from behind, your body going frigid at the action. "Who--?"

"Oh no..." He immediately released you from his hold, allowing you to come face to face with a towering man with onyx curls and a devastatingly handsome face that seemed vaguely familiar. "I must have gone back too far this time." He took a step toward you, his hands twitching in your direction as if he wanted to go back to where he was just a few seconds ago. If you were being honest with yourself, you wouldn't object. "Sweetheart, who am I to you?"

"What? This time?" You raised an eyebrow at him, confusion coating your words. "You trying to tell me we met before? Because trust me I'd remember meeting someone that looked like you."

"Who am I to you? What do you know of me?" he asked again, his brows upturned at the center of his forehead, his expression reminding you of a baby kitten pleading for affection.

"Not much," you admitted. "You look like the guy that tore up a hole in the sky and rode some space chariot while leading an alien army that laid waste on the city that I call home...and the guy that went up against Iron Man and his friends, including that big green scary monster looking dude."

He hung his head, looking down at the ground as he let out a long sigh. "I don't just look like that guy, darling, I--" He exhaled sharply before composing himself again. "I am that guy. Well, I was. And Banner's honestly not that terrifying once you get to know him." He looked at you again, seeing your hand and beginning to look emotionally deflated. "I went too far back."

"You know who else you look like?" you asked him, a smirk playing at your mouth as you reached for the chain around your neck, showing him the ring that hung in its center, closing the distance he put between you. "You look like my future husband."

The relief was written all over Loki's face as he eyed the ring he'd given you, a brilliant smile gracing his features when he pulled you into his arms and laid his lips on yours.  You melted into the kiss, pressing yourself against him as the god's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer.

"My darling little mortal," he mumbled against your lips. "Somehow managing to fool a trickster god, for any amount of time, is a feat in and of itself." He kissed you again, lifting you off the ground and spinning you in a circle when you put your arms over his shoulders.

"Well you said it yourself, I'm brilliant," you answered him back when you pulled away, your fiancée keeping your feet off the ground. He adjusted his hold on you to hold you up by a single arm, making you giggle when he started walking toward the front door and made your keys materialize in his now free hand. "What're you doing, Mischief?"

"You're finished here for the night," he stated simply, all the lights turning off, along with the doors locking closed, and the sign in front flipping to "Closed" to indicate you'd retired for the night, with a simple wave of his hand. "I'm taking you home, little mortal. Close your eyes."

A breeze flew by your face and the next thing you knew your back was pressed against the familiar wooden column of your kitchen area. Loki crushed his lips to yours in a desperate kiss, both of you moaning into each other's mouths as he pressed your chests together, hands traveling down the sides of your body to wrap your legs around him.

The feel of your hands being brought above your head despite the god's hands still roaming and grasping at your thighs had your eyes snapping open, breaking the kiss with a little squeak from the back of your throat as you looked up. A thrill shot up your spine seeing a thick glowing ring of Loki's seiðr fastened around your wrists and keeping you tethered to the column behind you.

"I could not decide whether to reward you or punish you for getting the better of me earlier, my love," he rasped, latching his lips to your neck and sucking a bruise into your skin. He smirked against you when you started whimpering and arching into his touch within seconds. "So I shall do both."

You let out a whiny sound that had him lightly grasping your chin, running his thumb along your bottom lip to coax it into a pout. He kissed you again, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away. Then another ring of his seiðr appeared at your hips, keeping them flush against the column as both rings began to lift you up, your feet soon leaving the ground until he was eye level with your pelvis.

He made a motion with his hand and suddenly you felt a breeze all over your body as he bared you to him, your clothes disappearing in a flash of green.

"Loki…" you whined, squirming under his predatory gaze as another ring of seiðr went around each of your legs, just above your knee, and opened you to him.

"I've not been home in ages, my darling mortal," he rasped, not taking his eyes off of your arousal as he licked his lips. "And I am famished." He took a step closer to you, lightly running his fingers up your inner thigh.

"Let--Let me down, then," you said shakily, feeling your walls quivering and clenching around nothing as he traced up your inner thigh again, only this time with the tip of his nose before pressing a tender kiss to your skin. "I can fix us something to--"

"Oh no, sweet Talia." He kissed you right below your belly button, groaning into your skin. "I do not crave food, my love." He continued to press kisses to your stomach, faintly chuckling when you tried to close your legs and his restraints kept you from moving even an inch. "Your reward is that I will not deny you any ounce of pleasure tonight. I have longed for you too much to deny you much of anything."

He moved his head lower, and you let out an obscene moan of his name as he ran his tongue along the length of your slit before slowly circling your clit.

"Your punishment…" he breathed, pressing slow lingering kisses and laving his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. "No touching."

"Loki, wait--Oh f-fuck!" The room filled with your moans as he proceeded to alternate between long licks at your entrance and close his lips over your clit for what felt like a blissfully torturous eternity. He kept his word on not denying you anything as he brought you over the edge over and over again.

Your throat was raw from your constant moans and screams of his name and various expletives, already having lost count of how many times you came for him when he slid two devastatingly long fingers inside you and curled up, brushing against the spot that had you seeing stars. "One more, sweet girl," he mumbled around your clit, the vibrations from his voice already bringing you to the brink of orgasm yet again.

He moved your legs to rest your thighs on his shoulders, moaning against you when your entire body tensed as you came for him again, your pussy quivering against his mouth as he lapped at your release with languid strokes of his tongue. The restraints around your wrists and hips moved you down the column until your face was level with his, a weak whimper slipping from you when you saw how his lips glistened with your juices.

You barely registered the sound of the zipper as he kissed along your chest, biting and sucking more bruises into your skin. He lined himself up at your entrance, sliding into you in a single effortless thrust and eliciting a staggered sigh of relief from the god. "I've m-missed this," he whimpered between thrusts. "Missed you." Thrust. "My precious mortal." Thrust. "My wife." Thrust.

He threw his head back, letting out a decadent moan when you clenched around him after what he'd just called you. It had you desperately longing for your wedding day. Desperately aching to touch him. Just desperate for him.

"Please…" you whimpered, feebly fighting against the restraints again. When the rings holding you to the column finally disappeared, you could only let out a sharp exhale, your hand immediately clawing into your fiancée's back, the other weaving into his onyx curls.

Loki pressed you harder against the column, driving himself deeper inside you, his hands roaming and grasping wherever he could, as if he couldn't get enough of you. Couldn't touch you enough. He slanted his mouth over yours, moaning into the kiss when your tongues tangled together and you could taste your release on him. He adjusted his hold on you, letting out another muffled obscene sound into each other's mouths when the motion caused you to bounce on his cock.

Once he held you securely in his arms he started walking you further into your home, each step making you bounce on him and further weakening you in his embrace. He eased you down onto your bed, breaking the kiss and rendering you completely speechless watching his clothes melt away and baring his godly physique to you.

All you could do was breathe his name as he moved to hover over you again, pressing his lips to your cheek as he picked up the pace. He wrapped his hand around your knee, raising your leg to wrap it around his waist so he could drive into you harder. When you felt his fingers rubbing over your clit, the only sound that came out of you was a sharp moan, your body weakly arching against his hand before squeaking out, "I can't--"

"Just one more, dear heart. For me," he grunted, latching his lips onto that spot between your neck and shoulder as he kept on rubbing tight circles on the over-sensitized nub. Your legs shook and your walls convulsed around him, bring him to his own release as he marked your skin.

Once you both came down from your high, you felt his seiðr wash over you as he pulled you into his arms, putting the covers over you both with another wave of his hand. "I gotta be honest with you, sweetie, that felt a little pent up," you exhaled, a tiny part of you finding it unfair that he'd already resumed his regular breathing as if he didn't just fuck you senseless.

Damn Asgardian endurance.

"Because it was, precious mortal," he told you simply, tracing his finger along your cheek. "How long has it been since last you saw me?"

"Three months…give or take a week?" You braced yourself, already dreading what he'd say next.

"I have not seen you for over a year, my love," he confessed, pressing another kiss to your lips. "At least not like this. Every time I had seen you, you were yet to know me. There were worlds where you even outright feared me, scurrying away once you'd realized where you recognized me from. When I got to your shop earlier, I nearly believed I landed in another iteration of that world."

Suddenly your 'prank' from earlier left a sinking feeling in your stomach. "Loki, I'm sorry, I didn't know." You wrapped your arm around him, pressing yourself even closer to him if that were even possible, resting your head on his shoulder. "I just thought it'd be a bit of fun--"

"You have nothing to apologize for," he reassured you, brushing the tip of his nose along your own before softly kissing the spot. "But I have missed you terribly. Getting to hold you, to love you. To simply be here with you and enjoy a moment with my wife."

"Future wife," you pouted. "We're still in the planning phase, sadly. I take it the last time you saw me was sometime in our…future? I'm sorry this still gets confusing for me." He nodded his answer, pressing his lips to  your forehead. "Well then the timelines better fucking behave because I refuse to let you go anywhere. I get that you're a big powerful hero now, and knowing that you're out there making sure that everyone's safe and gets to come home to their families? I couldn't be prouder. But you should get to come home, too." You pressed a kiss to his chest, just over his heart. "Preferably for longer than a quickie with your fiancé."

His brows furrowed, shaking his head at your sentiment before pulling you to lay on top of him, chests pressed together with his arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace. "I've come from a time where we were married and I called you my wife. Regardless of our pending ceremony, that is what you are to me now and what I will call you moving forward. No more of those semantics."

You nudged his chin with your nose, a giggle escaping you when he pulled you up to capture your lips in a soft kiss. "Tell me about it. The future…"

"When I found you, you were a force to be reckoned with. Planning your friend Aria's wedding--"

"Ah, so she and Leif really are headed for the fairytale happy ever after?"

"No no, you were planning the wedding in Asgard." You eyes widened at the new information. "She was set to marry Thor."

"Wait she what?!"

A/N: I'm so excited to participate in this year's Secret Santa again! This has been so much fun to write for both times around, and hopefully the story did justice to the request 🥹💖

The request from @acidcasualties:

secret santa 2023 taglist: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

[buffyromanoff]

Little By Little

Summary: Your girlfriend is dealing with ptsd after a difficult secret mission and its your duty to let her know she doesn't have to hide her pain from you. This is a sequel to ''Let it out'' but also works as a oneshot so don't worry if you havent read it ;)

Warnings: Ptsd related panic attack.

Genre: Slight angst, fluffy comfort

Word count: 1114

-------------------------------------------

The small but heavy paws of Liho walking all over your body woke you up. "Mghrr," you mumbled sleepily. "Morning, sweetheart," Nat said as she gave you a soft kiss on the forehead. Last night, she had fallen asleep in your arms, but now you were the one being held by her strong embrace.

"Your cat hates me," your groggy voice said, making her laugh.

"Well, technically it's our cat now."

Liho curled up next to her, purring.

"Are you feeling better today, Natty?"

She smiled. "You're pretty darn cute when you wake up, malyshka." Of course, she ignored the question. "Also, when you call me Natty, it makes me feel young again… It's weird how the smallest gestures can make such a big difference, isn't it?"

You yawned before sitting up and kissing your girlfriend on her plump lips. "Oh, okay grandma," you teased her.

"Oh, c'mon y/n, you know what I mean, silly."

You knew Natasha had a dark past and it made you emotional to have these little cute moments with her at home. You knew she felt the same way. She longed for a normal domestic life and loved being part of a family, no matter how small or big. Right now, having Liho and you was more than enough for her.

After some morning cuddles, you got up and made breakfast for the two of you. The need to demand her to open up and tell you what happened during her last mission was extremely strong, but you knew you didn't want to push her, considering her current mental state and the bad panic attack she had last night.

"You know you can tell me anything, right? Nothing you say is ever going to scare me or push me away, you know?" God, you were not subtle.

"Mhm," she nodded and then continued eating her pancakes in silence. "Thanks for breakfast." She stood up, giving you a quick kiss on the head before leaving the kitchen.

"She's mad, great job, y/n," you thought to yourself. Why couldn't you just leave her alone? Why couldn't you let her come to you instead of pushing her to talk? Although… you just told her that you were there for her. That's not bad, is it?

In an attempt to stop overthinking, you decided to go grocery shopping.

"Nat?" You peeked into the home gym you and Nat had. She was boxing. Her punches were frantic,and sweat was covering her bruised skin. "Yea?" Her fists still swinging. "Going to the store, do you need anything?" you asked her.

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

"You're absolutely sure you don't need anything?" It was clear you were not just talking about groceries.

Natasha stopped punching the bag and walked towards you, putting her hand on your shoulder. "I'm alright, babe. Go ahead. I promise I'll be less sweaty when you come back."

--

You opened the door, holding paper bags filled with groceries, letting some of them drop to the floor. "Shit."

Nat walked in, letting out a small chuckle. "Here, let me help you." She grabbed the bags and started sorting them out.

"You smell good," you kissed her hello, "no stinky gym stench," you joked, making her laugh. "Exactly as I promised," she replied.

"Gonna make some coffee, you want some?" You looked at her and smiled. "You know I always do."

The two of you were sitting on the couch, drinking coffee and watching some random TV show.

"That guy kinda looks like Tony, don't you think?" you said, pointing to the TV.

"I went back to the red room," Natasha let out a nervous sigh, "He's dead now."

She definitely took you by surprise.

"You mean Dreyk-" Nat interrupted you before you could finish saying the evil man's name. "Yeah…and his daughter—all the other widows, they're free now." The redhead was doing her best to keep it together.

"Oh my goodness, Nat…that's great news!" You were expecting her to smile back at you, but she didn't.

"I want to tell you more about it. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't trust you enough to share my feelings, but-"

"Baby, it's okay. I know it's hard for you to open up. I'm so proud of you for trying," you spoke in the sweetest tone.

She was trying to say something, but her breathing was accelerating, and tears welled up in her eyes.

"Hey, hey, c'mere, baby, you're alright." You pulled her close to you, wrapping her in a tight embrace. "I love you so much, remember to breathe in deep and then let it out slowly, okay?" Luckily, it was easier for her to calm down, considering there was no sensory trigger this time.

"I don't know what I would do without you, y/n." It was still strange for you to see your girlfriend in such a vulnerable state, but that just made you realize how much you truly loved her and that you were willing to do anything to protect her.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Natty."

The TV show kept playing in the background as the two of you snuggled, and of course, Liho joined you.

"Y/n, I forgot to tell you something," Nat said.

"You can tell me more about it tomorrow. Take your time, darling." You caressed her cheek with your fingers.

"No, no, it's something else." Her tone was definitely different now, more relaxed.

"Oh, okay then, spill." You replied with curiosity.

"My… my family is coming to visit," she looked you in the eyes.

"Cool! I haven't seen them in AGES! I actually have something I want to give to Steve, an old vinyl he might like-"

"No, it's not them… it's my other family," she said, and you couldn't look more confused. "From Russia."

"WHAT?! How come you never talked to me about them?!" You were shocked but mostly excited by this new information, and that made your girlfriend smile. "I have a younger sister, Yelena. I feel you'll get along."

"Oh my god?! When is she coming? When are THEY coming? Oh, and is she a widow like you? Is-"

"Okay, okay, slow down there, detective," Nat interrupted. "Yes, she is a widow like me. And they're coming over next week. Yelena, Melina, and Alexei."

"I'm so excited, Natty." You hugged her.

"I don't know if I am, to be honest… they can be quite embarrassing," she let out a nervous chuckle.

"Oh, then I'm even more excited. Can't wait to hear embarrassing stories about you," you teased, and she shook her head. "Oh, I'm SO gonna regret this."

[feltwrong]

Get to know your author

Thanks for the tag, @loni4ever!

1. How many works on AO3?

Six. Basically nothing compared to a lot of you.

2. Total AO3 wordcount?

90,107

3. Top 5 fics by kudos?

Top 5 of the 6, lol.

delay 20K Loki/Tony Stark post-Ragnarok soulmate AU.

Exact Dates 3K Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter soulmate AU, in which I poke at the trope of developmental milestones that happen exactly and predictably on your birthday. People really like soulmate AUs, I guess.

Search for Extraterrestrial Atonement 19K Loki/Tony Stark, written for Frostiron Flash Bingo last year. Canon divergence between Avengers and The Dark World, in which Tony recruits Loki to help him rescue Jotunheim from the damage Loki caused.

The Nose Room 42K Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter. Soft, domestic, mostly epilogue-compliant (though I tweaked the timeline a bit).

A Beginner's Guide to Parallel Universes 3K Harry Potter post-canon gen. Ginny Weasley learns about some of Dumbledore's canonical questionable decisions, gets drunk, and decides to make it Draco Malfoy's problem. I think this is the funniest thing I've ever written.

4. What fandoms do you write for?

MCU and, for my sins, Harry Potter. (Obligatory fuck JKR here; I write HP because those stories are in my head whether I want them there or not. I have not done anything to give her so much as a penny in many years, and I believe everyone else should do the same. I do not think new people should join this fandom.)

The common thread is that they're both big fandoms with compelling but fundamentally flawed source material. I find that my creative brain doesn't engage unless I can see a hole I could fill or something I could do better, so I don't write for things I actually like without reservation.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes, though I'm not always the fastest at it.

6. Fic with the angstiest ending?

Priscilla. 1374 words of pure angst, written in direct reaction to the 2024 US election and asking the question, "What if an unpopular side character was a closeted trans woman?" Not coincidentally, the one fic that's not on the most popular list above.

7. Fic with the happiest ending?

All the others have happy endings, but The Nose Room is probably the happiest. It wraps everything up tidily with the fewest unanswered questions and loose ends.

8. Do you get hate?

Not yet. *knocks on wood*

I totally agree with @loni4ever that MCU fandom is fairly low-drama at this point, at least in Frostiron and adjacent corners. I think a lot of the drama burned itself out in the post-Civil War period and things are pretty chill these days.

In any case, I'm a tiny fish in some very big ponds, and I try to be fairly chill and not do anything to start drama on my end.

9. Do you write smut?

Not yet. I have a porn-with-plot idea in my head that I might get around to writing up someday, but it's not high on the list.

10. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Nope. I'm kind of a control freak and I suspect I would be a nightmare to co-write with. And, as @loni4ever said, why add the stress of a group project from school/work into a hobby that I do for fun?

11. All time favourite ship?

Frostiron, no question.

12. WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'm not sure "want to finish" is right, but I do have part of a sequel to "delay" that will probably never see the light of day. I left myself with two and a half loose ends that aren't really enough for a sequel, but also wouldn't make sense to tack on to the back of the existing fic.

Also, that smut fic I mentioned above counts as a WIP in that I made a document, wrote one sentence, realized that I would have to double-check some things in canon, and wandered off to do something easier.

13. Writing strengths?

I think I'm funny. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

14. Writing weaknesses?

Endings. I have a tendency to want to wrap things up just a little too soon (see above re: delay).

Also, conflict. I want everybody to get along and have a tendency to smooth out the characters' sharp edges in service of that.

No-pressure tagging @oflights @beloved-child-of-the-house @chip-off-the-old-soul @ineedlelittlespace @fourth-rose and anyone else who sees this and wants to participate!

[dread-red-queen]

20 Questions for Fanfiction Writers

Borrowing these questions from @silurisanguine because I love the idea <3

1). How many works do you have on AO3?

28 currently

2). What’s your total AO3 word count?

534,664 so far

3). What are your top five fics by kudos?

1 - Touch - 214 Kudos 2 - My sanctuary - 193 Kudos 3 - Forever - 111 Kudos 4 - Of Crows & Talons - 98 Kudos 5 - Maybe Tomorrow Is A Better day - 96 Kudos

4). What fandoms do you write for?

Pallia, Cyberpunk2077 & Dragon Age Veilgaurd

5). Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always reply to comments when I get them, I cherish each comment and I like to thank them for leaving them as it means alot to me.

6). What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I would say the angstiest kind of near the end would be Crimson Feathers, it was angst near the end due to a major character dying (Kind Of) but I just cant bring myself to write an angsty/sad ending I love a happy ending to much,

the angstiest fic is still on going and that's As The Crow Fly's, it deals with alot of trauma from the Ossuary and character death but It wont be angst forever it will be happier soon.

7). What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I'm not entirely sure as I all of my fics have a happy ending, I guesse the end of Crimson Feathers was pretty happy and hopeful for the future XD

8). Do you get hate on fics?

surprisingly not, I guesse I haven't made it as an author yet XD

but in general If I did I would just delete, block and ignore it im not going to feel bad because someone I don't even know and doesn't know me said something mean about me or what I write.

At the end of the day we are writing about fictional characters in fictional worlds, none of if it real and nobody is hurting anyone so I don't really see what there is to hate lol

9). Do you write smut?

I have a tendency to write mostly smut, I have 2 fics in progress that are less focused on it but most of my stories have smut XD

10). Do you write crossovers?

I haven't done yet, I have a few im tempted to write but whether I do remains to be seen XD, I have done some crossover art before though lol

11). Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as im aware, I have seen fics that might have been inspired by my works but it is possible for writers to have the same thoughts or ideas for a fic so more than likely it's a coincidence than anything else.

besides even if they where inspired by something I wrote, its flattering as long as they are not copying me word for word and they give there own unique twists I don't see the harm.

12). Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope at least not as far as im aware and if someone wanted to I would hope they would ask me for permission first

13). Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Not exactly, I have swapped ideas and brainstormed with other writers before though.

I wrote a cyberpunk2077 fic set in an AU where there is no Relic and a friend is writing a fic that is in the same universe from a different characters perspective, a kind of side project that covers stuff going on in the background during my fic, so I guesse that's kind of a cowriting thing XD

14). What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Oh god I'm not sure I can pick, Goro Takemura/My OC and Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook I have written the most about so probably those but I couldn't choose between them there both my bbs

15). What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

As The Crow Fly's - I wanted to write a sequel of Crimson Feathers as I wanted write about Illario and his adjusting to life no longer in Lucanis's shadow, and earning forgiveness, while also helping Spite & Lucanis finally deal with the suppressed trauma/PTSD of the Ossuary but its alot of angst which isnt something I write alot of so can be a little emotional.

I'm also writing a Modern Day Fencing AU - En Garde - which is the polar opposite, its happy and fun and I enjoy writing it so its hard to work on As The Crow Fly's sometimes especially when im not really sure were im at in terms of plot. and I just find whenever im in the mood to write I want to write more En Garde instead XD

16). What are your writing strengths?

I'm not sure I would consider myself to have a writing strength per say but my friend calls me the queen of smut which I think is a little bit over the top I have read some incredible smut that is waaaaaay better than mine so I don't think that is a title I disserve but I do enjoy writing smut so *shrugs* who knows.

17). What are your writing weaknesses?

I have a tendency to repeat myself sometimes I don't like just using he said she said I like to use different terms like he purrs or she sighs but I tend to overuse them sometimes its something i really struggle with.

and of course being dyslexic there is also the eternal struggle with spelling and grammar, I also don't have a beta reader so im kind of relying on spell check software and that isnt always the greatest.

18). Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I have only done it a few times, i.e Antivan (Spanish/Italian) for Lucanis Dellamorte/Altara De Riva (Rook) and Japanese/Russian for Goro Takemura/my OC Raven.

Not being a native speaker of any other language than my own I have to hope google translate is accurate when I do write dialogue in a different language, I try not to over use it i.e only use a few phrases mixed in with English, I would probably be more confident if I was multy lingual but sadly I only speak/write in one language fluently

19). First fandom you wrote for?

Labyrinth back when I was a teenager (we don't speak of it and I deleted the evidence) I loved the Goblin king back then and I still do HAHA

20). Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Honestly If we are talking completed works probably Arasaka Stud an AU where Goro Takemura was working as an escort in Konpeki plaza but ends up getting hired by his client as there bodyguard and his dark past catches up with him, It was a personal challenge to myself to write a Smut scene in every chapter but it ended up having a fun plot that I enjoyed weaving around the smut and I had a blast writing it.

I would say it inspired my fic Touch which was formatted in a similar way in terms of smut but for Lucanis/Rook/Spite, Touch was one of the first fics I ever wrote that got alot of comments, kudos and hits I was blown away by it as up until then I had prety much never received any comments on any fic I had written, other than a few dotted here and there and it made me fall in love with writing all over again.

If we were talking about Favourite WIP I would say En Garde for sure I'm enjoying writing a slower burn romance, as much as I love to write smut its nice to try something new sometimes and focus more on plot instead of "plot" lol

[sadsongsandstories]

I want a Percy Jackson musical series

Show me all of them

Percy's full progression into the ultimate hero

With leitmotifs and reprises to wrap it all together

Because there's no rules to say that musicals have to be a once off spectacle

Although funnily enough I don't think that there's ever been a sequel musical

Except mamma Mia 2, but that doesn't count

I'm talkin stage shows

And I don't think that there's any with a sequel

Which is a shame

Because there's no real reason why not

It would work fine

I guess you don't want to limit your audience because of money

And if you're going to show a sequel, and the original is not being performed, people would be stuck

But surely, for an old enough show it would be okay

Or at least a spin off, like starkids hatchetfield musicals

The guy who didn't like musicals and black friday

Which are two separate shows, but would make an amazing joint title

Turns out that there have been some, but they're all for older shows

Falsettos apparently used to be a show and a sequel, which were then combined into one show

Which I guess explains why the lesbians from next door don't show up until act 2

And why the end of act 1 is so weird

I fully didn't understand it at first

But the history and context makes me appreciate the show so much more

Like I said, it's a shame that you can't make a sequel for a Broadway show, with extensions on the motifs and ideas, but tlot does make sense given the live nature of the medium and the resulting limitations. Without the original being readily accessible, a sequel is simply impractical. In a way, it does make the form of a musical even stronger, where each piece has to be a complete and entire story, with a brilliant book end with the opening and closing number

There's no witty setup for a sequel, or questions left unanswered

It's a beginning, character introductions, two hours of interactions and conflict and set up and resolution and growth, and then a brilliant ending song to tie it all together. The characters are complete, that's all we get in one perfect product

It helps the show to have a sense of scale and weight

Where, you can change or add songs, but there's no what if. The journey is complete

And you can do that for other media, books and movies and things

But the possibility is always open for a seuqel

Because money is a thing

And the original is readily available

Yoooo my waiting zone has an ensuite bathroom

This is da beeest

Maybe that's why the ending of the Percy Jackson musical feels so strange

Because the book is absolutely setting up for a seuqel

It's the ultimate setup

Establishing a new plot twist reveal antagonist at the very end

The kind of twist that, I might note, is so well set up that it's less of a haha gottem, and more of a wooooooah... Wait what?!? Oooh okay that makes sense

Strong character, established as a friend and mentor

With long history and familiarity with the main fleet of characters

Grover and annabeth

And everyone at camp

Everyone except for Percy

And so we trust him

Because they all so and why wouldn't we

And I don't remember how it's done in the book, I think he gives Percy a tarwnchika or somtehring

But in the musical I was unsure why he doesn't kill him

But this production makes it very clear that it was all and always annaberh

Which is really cool, and feeds well into the ending of the series

Which we don't get to see as a musical, but audience who knows will know

Like, in this one, it was so very obvious that luke can and would have killed percy

Posed above him with his sword at his throat

He's a really cool kind of villain

He doesn't want to be a villain

He believes that he is right

But he's not exactly a moral or even grey villain

Because choosing to kill a child after you reveal your schemes to them is never justified

And it is like 17 and 12 at this ooint

No self defence

No other thing that could justify murder

It's just murder

And murder isn't cool

Even if you are hot and blonde

Him and annabeth are really meant to be

And the overly nice Luke we got in the musical was perfect

The show does a great job of justifying him and his hatred for the gods

I wish they made that make sense for the ending

Where it's like "we can't just sit around here and wait, let's go and fight" which doesn't make a whole lot of sense

I guess it's like a "we can't just hide here all of our lives"

But that doesn't make a whole lot of sense

I think pick a side was meant to a cutaway back to camp song

Which works great, and it's a great song

Gets some more insight from some of the other main but not main main characters

Those outside of the big three, you could say

Provides some context and weight for the mission, so that those people don't just disappear

The entire quest does have quite a montage feel to it

Which I don't really like

I know time was an issue and there's a lot to stuff into one two and a bit hour musical

But it feels like a speedrun of the book at times, which seems like a disservice

Before abruptly slowing down for a character moment or significant event to the overarching plot

I think that they actually included more percabeth moments than were in the original musical

Which I really appreciated

Percabeth is always welcome

Like the motorcycle moment

With a spotlight right on them

Which was both hilarious and adorable and perfect for both of their characters

With Annabeth driving and Percy with his hands wrapped around her waist

In fear and love

The kids being kids was so well done

Percy's fidget spinner was perfecta

And the baggy clothes were great

Because of course Percy would wear his one baggy blue hoodie every day

With big old pants that don't fit quite right

He's a 12 year old boy and he's awkward and gangly and grisubg

And I should prond look where I'm going

Instead of writing

Foot traffic be wild

At this point of the story he's not yet a hero, only a hero to be

And the acting absolutely reflected that

Which is great, because far too often heroes start off feeling like heroes

Cough cough Rey cough cough

Instead of the whiney little brats they should be

Dragged into adventure kicking and screaming by their wizard uncle dad teacher mentor

[maulish]

Re: Star Wars: Skeleton Crew

I watched the first two episodes and already wrote down some of this right after, but I felt like it needed to sit with it for a moment. It's hard to say where the series will go plotwise, but it has revealed its tone and premise.

It's simply a fact that Disney Star Wars era lacks any coherent creative direction. Each film and series has a different director, writers, producers, crew etc. This means that any shared vision is at most a vague outline. Projects seem to be greenlit and cancelled based on audience reactions and whims, rather than on said vision and long term creative goals. Writing is of exceptionally uneven quality and the tone vacillates from bleak to gratuitous comic relief.

There is a set of problems that are symptomatic of Disney's creative control and lack of understanding for Star Wars as a mythos. One such major issue that a lot of them seem to share, which had been bothering me since the sequel trilogy came out, but that I only understood when I saw this video essay on de-infantilizing Star Wars. It's exactly that. The shift from accessibility to younger audiences, to infantility.

Skeleton Crew has a premise in an interesting and as of yet unexplored setting which is at first glance the mundanity of a suburban environment. The exploration of those everyday moments is an element that Andor excelled in, that made it feel like an authentic representation of this galaxy far away that we've longed to see more of. Capitalizing on this would be great for Skeleton Crew.

Something else I find rather fresh about Skeleton Crew is that the main characters are children, because the Star Wars universe has never been introduced to us through this point of view in film. It has always been relatively kid-friendly, as this was the intention Lucas always had, but I think there's a significant distinction to be made between a child's point of view on various narrative themes and infantile storytelling. I don't expect this to be a popular opinion and many will disagree, but at least for now, this is where I also feel let down by Skeleton Crew.

The first season of Skeleton Crew wil have eight episodes, and we won't even know if it will get a second season. But here we are, 2 episodes into the 8-episode season and while we are knee deep in easter eggs we don't even have an answer to the question: WHY? Why was this show made? What is the main driving point of the narrative? We've seen 25% of the show, there are 6 30 minute episodes left.

The first two episodes were informative, but not at all in the way that feels rewarding to me from a narrative perspective. It is packed with references, someone counted over 111 easter eggs, which goes beyond integrating this story into the galaxy and begins to feel like a red flag that points to a possible underlying belief that being able to drop in all those references and tick boxes is plot armor against claims that this doesn't feel like Star Wars.

And this doesn't feel like Star Wars to me, because it feels explicitly like Disney. This has a strong sense of nostalgia, but it immediately became clear to me that it wasn't nostalgia for Star Wars. If you remove the one alien kid and the droids, this is essentially identical to most mainstream American adventure movies targeted to children. Home Alone, Hook, Jumanji, The Goonies, Monsters Inc., The Wizard of Oz, take your pick.

And the creative decision to play up that proximity is actually a major factor that prevents me from forming any type of nostalgic bond with it now. They could have taken notes from both Andor and The Mandalorian which both have successfully been able to pin down what makes a story look and feel like Star Wars and capitalize on our collective nostalgia for that world. What keeps us coming back to this galaxy is the mythology of it, the universality. I am nostalgic for Star Wars, not for a representation of childhood I was already culturally and geographically locked out from when it was first presented to me in the 90s/early 00s.

I have a very cautious relationship with representation of any kind and what I think is a lot more crucial is to develop an ability to see and understand the universal shared aspects of things we all experience. But at the same time I will not accept pandering a very narrow experience as universal. Especially in conjunction with nostalgia which is very much about memory and lived or inherited experience and not about universal sentiments. Thus relying on nostalgia in storytelling while favouring memory and experience only one group has access to means that people's reaction to it relies on their ability to connect to it as represenation. The basic problem here is what happens when you intentionally anchor Star Wars to real word nostalgia, instead of the nostalgia we collectively had for Star Wars itself and have equal access to.

Regardless of the set decoration or superficial alienness in Skeleton Crew, the idealized environment that is meant to create that nostalgia is suburban United States. The disappointment for me is that fantasy and science fiction which could take a motif or societal pattern and turn the mirror so we may all gaze at something universal hiding behind a facade of something seemingly alien, it instead results to emulating the toneformula of every 90s and early 00s American kid-centric adventure film you have ever seen (that is, if you have seen then).

We can appreciate them and there is nothing wrong with them, because we get that that this society and audience is who they're made for. But even as a kid, watching them, I knew that I didn't live in a world that those stories spoke of or were made for. And this awareness becomes especially hard to marry into who and what Star Wars claims to aspire to, especially now.

So when Disney Lucasfilm claims to be telling stories of a galaxy far away , where all manner of species live together in worlds alien to both us and sometimes them and find common ground to form close-knit communities, targeting all available audiences... no, I did not imagine it to be a Californian suburb. And I find the aim to bring Star Wars "closer to our world in a boundary-pushing endeavor" concerning.

I can't judge this show on everything, but there are things it already stands out for. So based on this initial impression, despite the vast expanses of the galaxy, I find that...here we are, in Alien(ation) Central. Which is something no other Star Wars film or show has ever made me feel. And I wonder if it's a sign of what's to come.

[linawritestwst]

hc with the trio and jack that sees a fem mc as beautiful but she doesn't pls.

octavinelle trio and jack x s/o who doesn't think she's beautiful headcanons (fem!reader)

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

warning: mentions of bullying

you can count this as a sequel to that post with vil, rook and malleus, so i'll leave a link in case someone wants to read it!

azul ashengrotto.

♡ knowing that you hate the way you look and you don't think you're beautiful at all, breaks his heart. how can you say such things about yourself? but at the same time, he understands that him saying that you should be more confident is kind of hypocritical, because.. you know, he has similar problems as well.

♡ if you want to talk about why you don't think you're as beautiful as azul thinks, he will listen but after you're done, he will say that other people may not accept you as you are, but azul loves you and he thinks you're already perfect. and why should you care about other people's opinions?

♡ azul understands (and knows) that learning to love yourself takes a lot of time, so he doesn't expect you to become confident in a day. but there's no need to rush, if today is the day you think your hair doesn't look that bad or you like how today's outfit looks on you, you can already count this as making progress. and azul is so proud of you!

♡ azul always compliments the way you look, your new outfits, your new hairstyle and other things. not because "he's your boyfriend, so he's supposed to be nice to you", but because he genuinely thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world. and if someone even thinks of saying something mean to you.. let's just say that azul will take care of that person.

jade leech.

♡ you didn't even have to say anything to jade, he already knows pretty much everything about your insecurities. it's obvious to him that you don't like the way you look and he knows what exactly you don't like about your appearance. it's just that obvious to him, you can't hide anything from jade. so when he sees you standing in front of the mirror and looking at your reflection, he asks: "you don't think you look beautiful enough, am i right?"

♡ you can tell anything you want to jade. even if his face doesn't show any emotions, you can be sure that he's listening and you have all of his attention right now. if you feel like crying, go ahead, he won't judge, he will hold you as you do. deep down, jade is glad that you trust him enough to open up and tell him everything. he may not be that type of person who offers great emotional support, but he's a good listener and even if it's not obvious to others, you know just how much he cares about you.

♡ jade may not understand all of your problems, but he still tries his best to support you. and he's doing a great job, his words are calming and comforting. after all, jade has some experience, he knows one person that has the same struggles as you.

♡ when you say something bad about the way you look, jade gently puts his hand on your shoulder, smiles at you and says "now, my dear, why don't you say something good about yourself instead? for example, i think you look beautiful in this dress and it suits you perfectly." and you have no choice but to agree, even if it's hard for you to believe him. jade is trying to help you in his own way, he's making you say good things about your appearance, because even if you don't actually think so at the moment, you're still being kinder to yourself and that's better than constantly saying that you're ugly and you don't like the way you look.

floyd leech.

♡ hm? you don't think you're pretty? why? no, really, why? how can you such bad things about yourself? wait, did someone say something mean to you? because if someone did, floyd would love to have a nice little chat with them. if no one said anything bad to you, floyd will be so confused. how can you say such things about yourself so confidently? you don't have any proof! and floyd can prove that you're pretty! how? well, he's looking at you right now and he thinks you're the prettiest girl he has ever seen! (and if someone DID say something mean to you, i don't think you're gonna find them alive the next morning)

♡ okay, but floyd actually doesn't get why you think that you're ugly and floyd deserves someone better. he doesn't even care about appearance that much, so can you stop saying that? he decides if he should date someone different and he doesn't want that, he loves you and he loves being your boyfriend! who put these bad thoughts in your pretty head??

♡ i don't think that floyd is good at emotional support and he's similar to his brother in this case. but it doesn't mean that he can't support you in other ways! if you say something bad about yourself once again, he will hug you and say something like "and i think you're cute! no, i KNOW that you're cute!", but then he might actually get more serious and suddenly say "so stop lying, (nickname). i know that you're pretty and you know that, but for some reason you keep saying that you're not. and i don't understand why."

♡ if you say something good about yourself, like you admit that your eyes are pretty or you like your hair, floyd will be so happy!! he'd pat your head and say "well done, (nickname)! you've finally stopped being mean to yourself! well, at least for now!" even if it doesn't sound that serious, floyd is actually proud of you. he doesn't like to see you sad and he doesn't like to hear you say such bad things about yourself.

jack howl.

♡ so.. why exactly you don't think you're beautiful? why are you so insecure about your appearance? did something happen that made you feel this way? jack doesn't really know how to help, so he feels lost and he's also annoyed with himself, because he's your boyfriend, he should be able to help you and support you!

♡ but he knows that this is a big problem and a hard one to fix, so he will try his best to slowly help you get over it. he compliments you even more than before, even though his compliments are short and simple, like "you look great today, now, let's go", but they still sound sweet and genuine. if someone dares to say something bad about you and your appearance, they better pray that jack is not with you right now and he didn't hear that.

♡ if you say something about your appearance, jack will try to help you understand that you're not as ugly as you think you are. in fact, you're not ugly at all. and if someone thinks otherwise, well, it's their problem that they can't see how beautiful you really are. so jack hopes that you stop paying attention to those people's words.

♡ if you start making progress with being more confident, jack will be very proud of you and tell you that you're doing a great job. he wants you to finally accept that you're perfect as you are and you don't have to change anything about yourself so that other people would like you more. you definitely don't have to change anything about yourself so that jack would love you more.

[elvisabutler]

it's an apology house

summary: being a part of elvis's memphis mafia for years honestly has taken a bit of a toll on you and your partner. as it turns out, him and jerry make it up to you. fandom: luke bracey | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: t pairing: jerry schilling x gn reader word count: 1215 warning: use of the nickname kitten. injury to one mr. schilling. elvis being elvis. talk of exhaustion. author's note: so consider this a valentines sequel to my kinktober pieces 1 and 2 with jerry. you don't have to read the kinktober pieces or the christmas piece for this ( click the tag and you'll find it ) to make sense because it kind of stands on its own. and yes elvis really did buy jerry his house in california and to this day jerry actually lives in it. the fact that he does will make me cry until the end of time i swear. obligatory this is for @blurredcolour mention because hey i did say i wouldn't forget these two.

"Your arm is broken and you're telling me to calm down? The doctor said six weeks on the low side and I'm supposed to not want to murder EP." You can't help the way your voice raises an octave the more you look at how in pain Jerry looks. "It's Valentines and we spent half of it in the ER. I was planning on-"

"Kitten." Jerry's voice sounds so exhausted that you have a hard time keeping up your anger, the worry you feel for him overriding damn near everything else. "I- He didn't mean to do it- We didn't mean for it to happen. You know how he gets. Meant to reel him in and got he busted my arm. We'll celebrate tomorrow."

"That's not the point, Jerry. That's never been the point. I know he doesn't care because he can throw Linda something fun or shower her in something that makes up for everything but- do you know how terrifying it is to have Red calling me and Joe and Lamar and everyone as soon as I hung up the phone with each of them. I thought-"

"You're working yourself up." He cuts you off again, knowing that he can't give you exactly what you need in that moment. Knowing that you require a certain touch that the pain medication is dulling and shoving under a haze. "Come here." He uses his healthy arm to pat the couch's open spot next to him. "Sit next to me." He looks to see you still standing far too far away looking just as angry as you had been. "Please, Y/N? I can't- I'm not about to drag you over here."

One day you might be able to resist him, one day you might be able to tell him to shove it because you're not at his beck and call but today isn't that day. Today is the day when you sit by your partner and make a move to snuggle against him and frown. "This is why I want to get out, you know. Why I want to quit. Why we both should."

A hum is the answer only answer you get back as you and Jerry stare at the television screen plays something neither of you are paying too much attention to. "We can't both leave at once- anyone get back to you about-"

You shake your head, squeezing his hand before running your thumb over his wedding ring. "No. We can't all be in demand, Jer."

There's a hint of jealousy before he kisses your forehead. "They just think I did all the work. You're gonna find something but in the meantime- he's willing to let you stay. I know he would. And he might. He might have given me something of a bribe to convince at least one of us to stay."

"A bribe. I know he calls us a Mafia but that's a bit much." You try to joke only to look up at Jerry and see just how serious his face is. "What- What was it?"

"It not- A bribe might have been the wrong word. Especially after today. It's more of an apology present for you. Just a thank you for me and him trying to do right by me." Jerry continues to dance around telling you what it is and for a brief moment you consider making his broken arm worse to get him to focus and tell you just what he's talking about. "I actually meant to show you it today. It was going to be a nice set up, maybe a picnic."

"Jerry Schilling." You squeeze his hand in yours as you say part of his full name to get his attention before frowning. "What was it? Don't leave me in-"

"He bought us a house." The words come out in a bit of a rush before he elaborates, seeing how you're doing a fair imitation of a fish. "He bought it because I've- you know the story behind my life, Kitten. I've never really had a place to call home."

"So he bought you a house." You try and keep your tone level but the shock colors it no matter what you do. "Are you sure your pain medication isn't-"

Jerry shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "He bought us a house. Told me to settle in it if I wanted. Put down proper roots like he kinda has with Graceland." You both share a look before he shrugs. "I think that's the best permission he's going to give me to actually leave, Kitten."

You stare at Jerry for a long time, trying to figure out what to say, how to react to what he's said to you before you finally bite your lip. "We can actually make a home? We decorate and do gardening and all those stupid little things." We can fill it with stuff that's just ours is what goes unsaid. We can be just ourselves there is what goes unsaid. So much just goes unsaid that you just have to look at Jerry when you're silent.

"It's ours, so we can do whatever we want. We can grow old there. Love Memphis but LA could do us so much good." He says that part a little quieter like he's scared to admit it. "It was supposed to be your gift for Valentines."

The grin that forms on your face could light up the entire East Coast if you asked Jerry while he looked at it. He thinks maybe this is a good apology gift even if Elvis didn't intend it that way. "We could still make it my gift."

Jerry can't help but raise an eyebrow and tilt his head. "What are you planning?"

You don't answer as you move to go use the phone, leaving Jerry to worry just what shenanigans he has essentially allowed you to do. It's another ten minutes before you return to him, looking positively giddy. "Get up. We're going to our house so I can see what horrible taste Elvis is trying to pass on to us."

Jerry stays on the couch for a moment before he holds out his good arm for you to pull up. "It's not that bad, and you don't know where it is."

"But Lamar does. And Red does and a lot of people do." You pause. "It's not going to be the California house for the Mafia. But, I can whip up some snacks and E owes me for today. I want to see our house and we're going to go do that right now."

There's a moment where Jerry looks like he's going to argue with you before he shakes his head and instead uses his good hand to pull you in for a kiss, gentle as can be before nuzzling at your nose. "Let me grab a sleeping bag and we could just sleep in it overnight. If that sounds like a good Valentines date to you."

You can't help but laugh. "Why Mr. Schilling, that sounds perfect. Not as good as my original plans, but I suppose I can live with it for you. Since I love you that much." You slap his ass gently. "Go on, go grab it."

"Aye aye, Kitten."

taglist: @rosepresley, @floralcyanide

[sebstanaddict]

Love Song

Sebastian Stan x Female Reader Story

Chapter 12 - You Should Probably Leave

Summary : A romantic comedy story between Sebastian Stan and female reader where we witness their journey after they said I do.

Meeting his troubled ex again in Cannes, Sebastian is forced to choose between following his heart or his desires. Will he or won't he? (IYKYK)

Pairings : Sebastian Stan x Female!Reader

Chapters : 12/20 (might add more)

Chapter List >

Warning : suicidal thoughts, violence

Word count : 8k

This is a sequel to my first Sebastian fic Always You. If you want to understand more about Sebastian's and reader's relationship, please read it first. But it's not necessary to understand this story. Check it here.

-----

I know it ain't all that late But you should probably leave And I recognize that look in your eyes Yeah, you should probably leave

'Cause I know you and you know me And we both know where this is gonna lead You want me to say that I want you to stay So you should probably leave Yeah, you should probably leave

There's still time for you to finish your wine Then you should probably leave And it's hard to resist, alright, just one kiss Then you should probably leave

'Cause I know you and you know me And we both know where this is gonna lead You want me to say that I want you to stay So you should probably leave Yeah, you should probably leave

Like a devil on my shoulder you keep whisperin' in my ear And it's gettin' kinda hard for me to do the right thing here I wanna do the right thing, baby

You Should Probably Leave - Chris Stapleton

-----

LeBaoli Club, Cannes, France - May 16th - 11 pm

The thumping of music coming out of the speakers and flashes of red light from the walls finally snapped him awake from Stephanie's charm. He blinked several times and looked up to see Stephanie still smiling warmly down at him.

"Mind if I sit down?" She asked.

"Umm.. no, go ahead." He said even though his instinct told him that it was a bad idea.

"So, I saw your movie. It was amazing! And you were amazing!" She gushed as she sat across from him.

"Thank you, Stephanie. I appreciate it." He said, feeling butterflies in his stomach again. Stop it! You're a happily married man with a beautiful wife and child, you should not feel this way towards another woman! He scolded himself as he turned his gaze away from her and leaned back on his seat.

"So, I'm sure you're curious on why I'm here." She said with a twinkle in her eyes.

Sebastian took a sip of his beer and looked up at her. Trying hard not to feel anything for her again.

"Yeah actually. I am. So, are you going to tell me? If not, it's okay. It doesn't matter." He shrugged. It really didn't matter to him because she was nothing to him. He had Y/n and she was enough. She was more than enough. He thought, trying to convince himself.

"Well, I'm kind of embarrassed to say this, but.. I'm here to accompany a new and upcoming director, Luke Haas, you might have heard of him?" She asked.

"Oh, yeah. Isn't he nominated in the short film category?" Sebastian asked.

"Yes, he is." Stephanie nodded.

"Oh, so you're seeing him?" He asked, a slight relief filled his heart.

"Oh, no, not at all." She chuckled.

"If you're not seeing him, then.. you must be his assistant." He concluded and made Stephanie laughed even louder.

"I forgot how naive you could be, Seb." She said, giving him an adoring look, making his heart skipped a beat. This time he didn't scold himself and just let it go.

"Okay. So you're here as his what exactly?" He asked curiously.

"I'm his escort, Seb." She replied and Sebastian's heart dropped to his stomach.

"Stephanie, don't joke with me. I mean, you can't be an escort. That's just impossible!" He said. His mind couldn't comprehend on how she ended up in an even worse situation than the last time they met.

"I'm not joking, Seb. Luke hired me to accompany him throughout the festival. He wanted people to see him with a partner. So, here I am." She smiled and Sebastian couldn't help but feel sorry for her. He decided to help her. He couldn't live with himself knowing that someone was suffering and that he was able to help but didn't do anything.

"Stephanie, I'm sorry, but I think you need to rethink this. I mean, you're basically a prostitute but with probably better pay and a longer duration of working." He said, hoping not to hurt her too much.

"Seb, you don't have to state the obvious." She sighed. "I have no other choice. My freelance writing job isn't enough for me to put food in the table. I have to find a side hustle."

"Stephanie, there are better side hustles out there than this." He said, exasperated.

Stephanie didn't respond and just stared back at him in silence. Conflict filled her eyes.

"Look, I have some connections, I can help you find a job. Maybe even just as a personal assistant to one of my friends." He suggested.

"Seb, I'm in this too deep. My boss won't like it if I quit." She said, fear in her eyes.

"Stephanie, I'm sure your boss has plenty of other women that wants to do this. But I assure you, you're not one of them. You're an amazing woman and it's time for you to realize that and respect yourself. You're worth more than this." Sebastian said, looking at her with determination in his eyes.

Stephanie looked back at him softly. Her beautiful blue eyes stared at him full of love and admiration, making his heart skipped a beat. He ignored it and continued.

"I can help you find a job in the filming industry. I mean, I have several projects in the future and you could work with me if you want to." He suggested. The moment the words came out of his mouth he regretted it. He could be so stupid at times. There was no way she could work with him. It would cause more trouble in his life. However he felt the need to help her and he was sure he could find a better job for her, but maybe not something he was involved in.

"Thank you again, Seb. You really are the kindest man to ever exist." She smiled as she reached out and squeezed his hand. He jerked his hand back and leaned even further on his seat, trying to put some distance between him and her. He could see a little hurt in Stephanie's eyes but she quickly got over it.

For a moment they just stared at each other in silence. Flashes of memories with her appeared in his mind as he gazed into her beautiful blue eyes. Despite being much older, she was still as lovely as he remembered her. His heart beat faster in his chest as he studied her lovely features and his mind started to wander into prohibited territory. He blinked several times, trying to erase the forbidden thoughts in his mind.

"So, I think I saw you yesterday at the Hôtel Martinez." Stephanie said, finally breaking the silence.

"Oh, yeah. I think I saw you too several times yesterday. But I wasn't sure that it was you." He said, relieved that the forbidden thoughts were finally gone from his mind.

"Yeah, I knew it was you but I wasn't sure if I should come and say hello. But seeing you here tonight, I thought, why not. For old time's sake. You know." She winked and he could feel warmth crawling from his neck to his cheek. He was blushing it seemed and he really needed to get a grip on himself.

"Yeah. For old time's sake." He said as he averted his eyes from her and took another sip of his beer.

"So, how long are you going to stay here?" She asked, sipping on her cocktail.

"I'm leaving tomorrow. I have to get back to Y/n. She's in Amsterdam." He replied.

"Oh, I thought she's here with you." She said in surprise.

"No, my baby got sick when we arrived in Amsterdam. So she had to stay back and take care of her." He said.

"Oh, okay, I see." She nodded.

"Stephanie? I'm going to back to the hotel. Are you coming?" Suddenly a man appeared next to them.

Sebastian looked up and saw the man Stephanie had been with from earlier that day. He assumed the man was Luke Haas, her client.

"Oh, hey Luke. I don't know if you know each other, but umm.. Luke this is Sebastian, my old friend, and Sebastian this is Luke, my.. umm.." She trailed.

"I'm her boyfriend." Luke said and smiled at him as he shook Sebastian's hand.

"Oh yeah, hi. Nice to meet you." Sebastian said, shaking Luke's hand.

"I saw your movie earlier this evening. It was an amazing movie and you were excellent in it." Luke smiled.

"Oh, thank you. I appreciate it." Sebastian smiled.

"You know I have several projects coming up. Maybe we can work together in one of them if you're interested. Here's my card." Luke said as he produced a business card from his wallet.

Sebastian took the card and slipped it into his shirt's front pocket. "Thank you, Luke."

"Anyway, Stephanie, I'm going back to the hotel. Let's go." Luke said as he grabbed Stephanie's hand and pulled her up.

"Bye, Seb. I'll see you later." She said, smiling at him.

"Yeah, bye Stephanie. Take care." He said and she was finally gone, dragged by Luke across the dance floor and out of the club.

Sebastian sighed and relief filled his heart as he gazed at the empty chair in front of him.

His heart was conflicted. On the one hand he was glad that she was gone, he really didn't need her to show up in his life again, tempting him with her beauty. But on the other hand his heart broke for her and he wanted nothing more to be able to help her get a better life. Despite everything that had happened between them, he still cared about her and he hated to see her wasting her life away. He decided to try and help her but limit their interaction to just text and phone calls, no more meeting in person. He didn't want to take a chance.

He pulled out Luke's business card from out of his pocket and ripped it in half then ripped it again until it became shredded pieces of nothingness. There was no way he could work with someone like Luke. He thought in dislike.

He glanced at his watch and gasped in surprise as he saw that it was almost midnight. His mind went straight to Y/n who must be looking for him. He needed to get back to the hotel and contact her. He hoped she was okay. So he stood up to find his colleagues and tell them that he was leaving.

-----

Hôtel Martinez, Cannes, France - May 17th - 12.30 am

As soon as Sebastian arrived in his hotel room he immediately tried to find his cellphone. He hoped it was still there and not picked up by the hotel's cleaning staff. He scanned the room and spotted his cellphone on the night stand. He breathed a sigh of relief and immediately picked it up.

When he unlocked the phone's screen his heart dropped to his stomach as he saw that Y/n had tried to call him 10 times and left him numerous messages. He immediately called her back, hoping she was alright and not mad at him.

It took only two rings until she picked up the call.

"Hello.." Y/n croaked and sniffled. Oh no, she must have been crying. Sebastian thought with guilt in his heart.

"Sweetheart, I'm really really sorry that I haven't responded to your messages and calls." Sebastian said as he flopped on the sofa next to the window.

"What happened, Seb?" She asked, still sniffling a little.

"I stupidly left my phone in the hotel room right before I left for the festival." He replied.

"Oh, Seb." She sighed deeply and he felt truly embarrassed. He really could be so stupid at times.

"But it's midnight already. I didn't think the festival would be finished this late." She continued.

"No, you're right. It was finished around 8-9 this evening, but then I met Andrew Garfield and he invited me to come to this beautiful club and restaurant near here. I didn't feel right rejecting his invitation. I mean, I thought I should do some socializing with my peers, you know. I didn't plan on staying there long but I lost track of time. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I really am. I hope you're okay?" He asked.

"Well.. you have no idea what went on in my mind, Seb. You ignoring me reminded me of the last time you ignored me.. when Ana blackmailed you.." She said, her voice shook.

Sebastian felt a pang in his heart as he listened to her. He never meant to make her feel like that. It must have hurt her so much and he felt extremely guilty. Especially how he ended up meeting Stephanie again.

"Sweetheart, I.. I'm sorry." He said, not sure what else to say as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I saw Renate's story of you and her taking a selfie and then you and her dancing and my mind just went crazy with thoughts of you and her cheating and I just.." She trailed as she started to cry again.

"Honey, I would never cheat on you.. I swear! Nothing is going on between me and Renate. She actually kind of forced me to dance with her. But it was all friendly, nothing more. You have to believe me, sweetheart." He said. He felt his heart constricted as he explained himself. He really would never cheat on her. Or.. would he? He thought as Stephanie's face appeared in his mind. But he scolded himself and brushed the thought of Stephanie away from his mind.

"I know you would never do that to me, Seb. But just not knowing where you were and what was happening to you made me so anxious. And, what makes me so sad is that you missed an important milestone." She said with great disappointment in her voice.

"What do you mean? What milestone?" He asked curiously.

"You haven't seen the video I sent you?" She asked.

"No, I haven't. When I saw your missed calls and messages I called you right away. I haven't opened your messages yet." He said.

Y/n sighed deeply and finally said "Okay, you need to see the video, Seb. Then call me back afterwards."

"Okay. I'll do that." He said then she hung up.

He wondered what milestone she was talking about. He opened her messages one by one and finally reached the message where she told him that Starlene had said her first word. And her first word was 'Da-da'! He thought in disbelief. His daughter's first word was him!? His heart swelled in his chest as he watched the video of Starlene saying 'Da-da' while standing up in front of the TV and looking at his face on the TV. He felt tears prickled up in his eyes as Starlene turned to the camera and said 'Da-da' multiple times. Oh Starlene, how much Daddy misses you. He thought as a tear dropped from his eyes. He wiped the tear away and immediately called Y/n back.

"Sweetheart, I can't believe her first word is me!" He said excitedly.

"I know, Seb. She refused to say 'Mama'. I must say I'm jealous of you." She said, making him laugh.

"Oh, honey. I'm sure she'll be able to say 'Mama' soon enough. You're with her 24/7, she's bound to be able to say 'Mama' soon." He said, trying to cheer her up.

"I know." She said. He could still feel great disappointment in her voice and it broke his heart.

"Sweetheart, I'm really sorry again. I wish I was there to witness it directly. But I'm coming back to you and Starlene tomorrow, and I will be ready to witness more of Starlene's milestones. So please don't be sad." He said, wishing he was there with her to hug and comfort her and gave kisses to Starlene.

"I miss you, Seb. Starlene misses you too." She sniffled.

"I miss you and Starlene too, sweetheart, you have no idea how much I miss you both." He said, sighing.

"Yeah, anyway, how was the festival?" She asked.

"Oh it was amazing, sweetheart! Everyone seemed to like the movie and we even got a ten minute standing ovation!" He exclaimed excitedly.

"That's amazing, Iubirea mea! I'm so proud of you!" She said. He was thankful that she seemed to be happier listening about his achievement. She even started to call him 'Iubirea mea' again!

"I love you so much, sweetheart. And I'm really grateful that you allowed me to come here even though we're on our honeymoon. I can't thank you enough for being so understanding of me. You really are the kindest, most understanding and amazing woman in the world. I'm so lucky that you chose me. I don't deserve you." He said.

Y/n didn't respond right away. Slowly he could hear sniffles coming from her end.

"Sweetheart, are you crying?" He asked in concern.

"I am.. I'm sorry. I just miss you so much, Iubirea mea." She said in between her sobs.

"Oh, honey. What can I do to make you feel better?" He asked, feeling all the guilt in his heart.

"Just.. come back to me as soon as you can." She said as her cry finally subsided.

"I will. I promise you. I already booked the first flight out of Nice to Amsterdam tomorrow.. well.. today, technically. I booked a 10 am flight, so I'll be there by 1 pm today, honey. I promise." He said.

"Okay. I'm holding you to that promise, Iubirea mea." She said.

"Of course, honey. I won't disappoint you again. I promise. I love you so much." He said.

"I love you so much too, Iubirea mea." She said and he smiled as he listened to her calling him that endearing name again.

"Well, I think we better hang up. It's almost 1 am. We both need to go to sleep." He said after glancing at the clock on the wall.

"Yeah. Good night, Iubirea mea." She said.

"Good night, sweetheart. Please give Starlene kisses from me and tell her how proud I am of her." He said.

"You can tell her and kiss her yourself in twelve hours, Iubirea mea." She teased.

He chuckled. "Okay then. Well, I'll see you in twelve hours, sweetheart."

"I'll see you in twelve hours, Iubirea mea." She said and they finally hung up.

He sighed as he put his cellphone on the night stand. He was kind of concerned that Y/n would think that he would cheat on her and he was also kind of worried that her instinct about it was almost spot on. Somehow he was reminded of Stephanie again.

Maybe it was a bad idea to offer her his help. Maybe it was better that he left her alone to deal with her own life. She was an adult anyway that can make her own decisions. He was nothing to her and she was nothing to him too. He didn't have any obligation to help her. It was better that he focused himself on his own family. His honeymoon wasn't even over yet. They still have Paris and Rome to go to. And he had promised Y/n to be there for her and make her happy. Adding Stephanie into the equation even if he just contacted her through text or call would just distract him even more from Y/n and Starlene.

Alright, he finally made the decision. If he didn't hear back from Stephanie then he would just forget her. She could take care of herself. He thought, trying to convince himself. But if she contacted him, he could just ask one of his assistants to help her out. He didn't need to be involved at all. He nodded in satisfaction.

Having made the decision, he stood up and changed into his sleeping attire. He finally felt the aches and tiredness in his body. He needed to sleep.

He was just about to get into bed when he heard a knock on the door. He stopped in his tracks and raised his eyebrows. It was 1.15 am, who the h**l would bother him at this hour? He wondered.

"Seb? I'm sorry to bother you. It's me. Are you in there?" A female voice called out from behind the door.

Oh no! It was Stephanie! He could recognize her voice. How did she find out which room he was in? For a moment he contemplated on just ignoring her and pretended to already be asleep, but he could hear her voice speaking again from behind the door.

"Seb? I'm really sorry to bother you. But I have no choice. I.. I need your help." She said, her voice shook.

He sighed as his kind heart finally took over. He walked slowly towards the door and opened it. Stephanie looked up at him sheepishly. His eyes widened as he saw her. Her left eye was bruised, her right cheek was red, and her bottom lip was split, dried blood on it. She also looked like she just cried.

"Stephanie?! Are you okay?" He asked in surprise.

"No, I'm not. I'm.. I'm sorry, I don't know where else to go." She said as tears started to fall from her eyes.

Sebastian sighed and looked to the left and the right. After making sure no one was around he guided Stephanie by the shoulder to come into his room. "Come on in."

Stephanie took a seat on the sofa by the window while he sat on the bed across from her.

"Do you want some water maybe?" He asked as he stared at her. His heart dropped to his stomach as he saw her face. He had an inkling of what happened and he felt really sorry for her.

"No, it's okay." She shook her head and looked down to her lap, her fingers fiddling with each other.

"So, do you want to tell me what happened?" He asked gently. "And, I'm sorry but, how did you know which one is my room?"

"I asked the receptionist. She saw my face and didn't have the heart not to tell me your room number. She wasn't allowed to tell me, but she felt really sorry for me. I hope she won't get fired." She replied.

"Oh, okay. So, what happened to you?" He asked.

"Luke hit me." She said as her eyes started to water.

"That son of a b***h! I knew he isn't a good man." He said, anger started to boil in him.

"Seb, he had a reason to. I.. we went back to his hotel room and as usual he asked to be serviced but.. after meeting you I started to have second thoughts about being an escort. I thought maybe you really can help me to get a better job, a better life. So, I made the decision to stop being his escort and told him I didn't want to do it again. He got all angry and called me many nasty things, and he hit me multiple times.. and.. and.. he tried to rape me but I hit him back and ran out of the room. He was still unconscious when I left him. I went to the reception and asked if there was an empty room I can check-in into but the receptionist said all the rooms are occupied. She nicely offered to call other hotels but all of them are fully booked because of the film festival. I.. I didn't know where else to go, so I thought of you. I'm.. I'm sorry.. I shouldn't have come here but.. I.. I have no one.." She said and she started to cry.

Sebastian's heart broke as he listened to her story. He stared at her as her body shook and she sobbed. He couldn't help it. He knelt down in front of her and embraced her. He held her tight in his arms as she continued to cry on his shoulder. He rubbed her back trying to soothe her. Deep down he knew this was wrong. But he was just being helpful. He was sure Y/n would understand.

After a while Stephanie stopped crying.

"I'm sorry." She sniffled as she released herself from his embrace.

"I.. I shouldn't be here." She said as she wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath. She looked up at him with sorrow in her eyes.

His heart ached looking at her bloody lip and her bruised left eye. He could never understand men like Luke. Hitting and abusing a woman were things extremely forbidden to him no matter how angry he was at a woman. So he didn't understand why men like Luke needed to do it. In his mind those types of men are cowards and assh***s. There was no excuse for them.

"Stephanie, I'm sorry for what happened to you. Do you want me to help you report this to the police?" He asked.

"Oh no.. no.. it would just cause more trouble and would be a big scandal seeing how he's a famous person. Besides, my boss would kill me if I report his client." She laughed bitterly.

"Okay then. Well, you can stay here if you want. You can take the bed and I'll sleep on the sofa. Don't worry about it, okay?" He said as he put his hand on her cheek and stroked it gently. He immediately retracted his hand back and dropped his hand to his side when he realized he wasn't supposed to behave like that towards her. His mind went to Y/n and he sighed. He really needed to better control himself.

"Thank you so much, Seb. I don't know what I would do without you." She said slowly as she gazed at him with love and longing in her eyes.

Sebastian's heart galloped fast in his chest as she leaned close to him. He knew where this was going and he couldn't let it happen. So he immediately stood up, leaving Stephanie hanging. He turned around and went to the mini fridge and picked up a bottle of water.

"Here, have some water." He said and gave her the bottle of water.

"Thank you, Seb." She smiled as she accepted the bottle.

"You're welcome. Now, I'm leaving to Amsterdam tomorrow. What are your plans?" He asked.

"Well.. I was supposed to stay here with Luke until the end of the festival. But of course that's not an option anymore. I was thinking of going back to New York tomorrow. But I don't have the plane ticket yet. I'm hoping I can secure one tomorrow." She said.

"Okay. Do you need any money to buy the ticket?" He asked.

"No, it's okay. I still have some money. Luke paid me in half before we came here. It's enough to buy me a plane ticket home." She replied.

"Okay, good. Now I think it's best we both try to sleep. I have a morning flight to catch. You can come with me to the airport tomorrow." He offered.

"Thank you, Seb. It means a lot." She smiled.

"On second thought, maybe it's best that we leave separately. I don't want people to start gossiping about us even though there's nothing going on between us." He said, thinking of the bad publicity he could get if he showed up at the airport with her.

"Oh, yeah, that's right. Don't worry, I'll leave as soon as the sun comes up. I just need a place to sleep for tonight." She said, understanding dawned in her.

"Okay, good." He smiled.

"Can I use the restroom?" She asked.

"Sure, go on ahead." He said and she stood up. Her hand brushed his as she went past him to the restroom, making him shiver a little. He shook his head. Get yourself together! He scolded himself.

As soon as Stephanie went inside the restroom he immediately went to the room's phone. He dialled the reception, hoping he could book another room for Stephanie. For all he knew she could be lying. Unfortunately she wasn't lying. The hotel really was fully booked that night. So he tried to call other hotels in the area but unfortunately all of them were fully booked as well. He sighed as it seemed he had no choice but to share a room with her. Well, he already could control himself earlier. He thought proudly. In the event that she tried to seduce him again, he would just get out of the room and sleep on one of the sofas in the lobby or something. He finally decided.

He went to the wardrobe and picked up an extra blanket and a pillow then went to the sofa. He put the pillow on the sofa then laid himself down. Then he spread the blanket and covered himself with it. His eyes looked up to the ceiling as he tried to distract himself from the fact that Stephanie was in the room with him.

"Seb, sorry but I took the liberty to take the bathrobe that was hanging in the bathroom. I can't sleep wearing my dress. It has blood stains on it." She said as she appeared out of the restroom and walked closer to him.

"Oh yeah, it's okay. It's not mine anyway, it's what the hotel provided." He said, glancing at her.

"Thanks, Seb." She said, smiling at him and making his heart skipped a beat. He sighed as he looked up at the ceiling again. This is going to be a long night. He thought.

"Good night, Seb." She said.

"Good night, Stephanie." He said.

The silence between them was deafening. He could hear the tick tick sound of the clock on the wall and the sound of the waves crashing down to the shore outside. His heart beat fast in his chest as his mind went to Stephanie, who was lying down on the bed, so close to him yet so far. Testing him in his loyalty to Y/n.

His mind then went to Y/n and Starlene and how much he missed them. He wondered how things could have gotten so complicated. He contemplated whether or not to tell Y/n about Stephanie. Well, if he really was going to help Stephanie find a job, maybe it was better that he told Y/n about it. She deserved to know. So, he decided to tell her once he gets to Amsterdam. But of course he would still keep the event during his Bachelor's party a secret from her. It would just hurt her and he didn't want to hurt her anymore. He had hurt her and disappointed her too much throughout this honeymoon. He promised to himself he wouldn't do it anymore. She deserves the world and that was what he was going to give her.

In the silence he suddenly heard the sound of muffled sobs. Stephanie seemed to be crying. He turned towards her and saw that indeed she was crying. Her back was facing him but he could see her shoulder shook as she cried.

"Stephanie, are you okay?" He asked gently.

Stephanie stopped crying and sniffled. She then turned towards him and wiped the tears falling from her eyes. "I'm.. I'm sorry, Seb. I.. I'm just crying over my stupidity and the s**t that I've been going through. You know. I.. I feel like I can't take it anymore. It's probably better if I die. If I die then all these suffering will stop. I will meet my family again. I don't have to deal with earning money for a living. I don't have to deal with men like Luke. I will be.. free.."

Sebastian sat up and turned towards her. It scared him that she was contemplating suicide.

"Oh Stephanie, don't say that. Everything is going to be okay. You already took the right step towards a better life. You just have to be patient and be strong. You'll get through this. I'm sure you will. I will help you. Don't worry, okay?" He said, staring at her with his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

She stared at him in admiration and adoration, making butterflies flew in his stomach. He kicked himself internally and wished he could capture those d**n butterflies and put them in a cage and let them loose only when he was with Y/n. But of course he couldn't.

"Thank you, Seb. After all that I've done to you, I don't deserve your kindness." She said. Her eyes looked a little happier and he was glad that he could help.

"Don't say that. What you did to me was wrong. I was hurt.. a lot. But everyone makes mistakes, and I've forgiven you. I don't want to hold any grudges. I see that you need help. So, I'll help you as best as I can." He said.

"I know you've heard this before. But.. thank you again, Seb." She said and she smiled, making his heart skipped a beat. He sighed and decided to ignore it.

"No problem, Stephanie. I'm glad if I could help." He smiled back.

"Do you think you can help me with one more thing?" She asked slowly, her cheeks blushed a little.

"Oh, sure. How else can I help you?" He asked slowly. He had an inkling it was something he wasn't going to like.

"Could you.. could you hold me? I know that you probably will say no. But I.. I need it. I.. I just need to be held." She said, her voice shook and her bottom lip trembled as she tried not to cry again.

Sebastian's eyes widened as he listened to her request. Hold her? That would definitely test his resolve. Of course he couldn't do it. But seeing her broken and fragile like this broke his heart. Moreover, she was somewhat suicidal and it scared him. If he could help make her feel better and forget her suicidal thoughts by holding her in his arms, then maybe it was okay. Just a hug and nothing more. An innocent hug. He thought as he tried to convince himself.

"Okay." He finally said and Stephanie's face brightened immediately.

He stood up and slipped onto the bed next to her. He put his arms around her and she put her head on his shoulder. She then put her hand around him and he couldn't help but feel how comfortable it was. But he shook his head and tried to guard his feelings. He thought of Y/n and how they held each other every night when they go to sleep. I'm sorry, Y/n. He thought. I hope you'll forgive me. He involuntarily hugged Stephanie tighter and rubbed her arms, thinking that he was hugging Y/n.

"Thank you, Seb." Stephanie whispered and looked up at him. Love and longing clear in her eyes, turning the alarm again in his mind, but he mentally turned it off.

"No problem, Stephanie." He looked down at her and smiled, feeling his heart beat faster as he looked at her. He quickly turned away, not wanting to look at her too long, afraid of the consequences.

"Do you remember our first night together, Seb?" She asked, laughing a little.

"Hmm? Yeah, a little bit." He lied. He remembered every single detail of that night but he didn't want to admit it of course.

"I still can't believe you bought me McDonald's afterwards." She laughed and he laughed as well.

"Well.. I was hungry. It was a lot of work." He chuckled and she laughed even louder.

"I'm sure it was just like a warm up to you now." She teased. He didn't like where this was going so he stayed silent.

"And I can't believe we lied to our parents to get some money for the hotels." She chuckled again, referring to the time when they used to check-in into hotels around NYC to have some 'good time' because they didn't have anywhere private to do it.

"I know. Those were some crazy times." He laughed.

"It felt just like yesterday." She said as she looked up at him and stroked his cheek gently with her fingers. He froze as he felt her touch on his cheek. The alarm sounded loudly in his mind.

"You know, I often wonder what would have happened if I hadn't lost you. If I had.. if I had not been so stupid and stayed loyal to you." She sighed as she continued to stroke his cheek.

His heart ached as he listened to her. The pain of her betrayal came back and plagued his heart as the vision of a man opening her apartment door flashed by in his mind.

"You turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me, Seb. No other men I dated were ever like you. I.. I regret so much what I did. There's not a day goes by that I wish I could turn back time and didn't betray you. I'm.. I'm sorry." She said as she turned his face down towards hers with her fingers.

His mind went blank as she leaned closer to him. Her lips went inch by inch closer to his. He wanted to move, he needed to move away from her, but the feeling of her breath on his lips and the warmth of her body so close to his - which he realized was naked underneath the bathrobe - hypnotized him.

For a split second his mind suddenly went to Y/n and Starlene. He saw in his mind's eye Starlene calling him 'Da-da'. He saw Y/n looking like the most beautiful princess out of a fairy tale, smiling at him as she walked down the aisle at their wedding. They don't deserve this. No one deserves this. He thought. So with all the willpower that he had he let go of Stephanie and pushed her away and immediately stood up.

"I'm sorry, Stephanie. This is a bad idea." He said, looking down at her with a slight coldness in his eyes.

"I'm.. I'm sorry, Seb." She said as she looked up at him in shame.

"I have to go." He said as he went to the wardrobe, pulled out a trouser and a jacket then put them on.

"Seb.. no, stay. I'll go." She said as she sat up.

"No, you can stay. I just want to go down to the bar and get something to drink. You should go to sleep." He said.

"Are you sure? Do you want me to come with you? I could use a drink." She laughed a little.

"No, that's a bad idea Stephanie. Just stay here and get some rest. Okay? I'll be right back." He said and Stephanie finally nodded.

He picked up his wallet and cellphone and soon went out the room, leaving Stephanie alone in the comfort of his room.

Sebastian went down to the lobby and headed to the hotel's bar not far from it. Unfortunately the bar was already closed. So he walked out of the hotel lobby and looked around. Thankfully it didn't take him long to find an open bar. There was a bar on the corner of the street, right next to the hotel. It's red neon light nameplate glowed bright against the dark sky.

He walked towards it and felt a little chill. The night air on the coast was quite cold, so he wrapped his arms around himself and quickly went into the bar.

-----

72 Croisette (The Gutter Bar), Cannes, France - May 17th - 2 am

The bar was not crowded. There were only four patrons sitting on tables inside. He went to the counter and ordered a martini then went to sit at a table near the window.

He took a sip of the martini and immediately felt more relaxed. He shook his head as his mind went through the events that just happened. Of all the crazy things that had happened during his honeymoon, meeting his ex was definitely not something he thought he would experience, and a troublesome ex too. He felt sorry for Stephanie but he couldn't keep doing this with her. She was clearly still infatuated by him and it was really dangerous for him to be around her again. He needed to keep his distance with her. So he decided that he would help her but just ask one of his assistants to help her find a job. He would block her phone number if needed. He thought.

"Salut, beau gosse." Suddenly he could hear a female voice greeting him in French.

He looked up and saw a beautiful long haired brunette woman, with big wide eyes and lips painted red. She was wearing skin tight red dress, accentuating her curves in all the right places. She smiled seductively at him, making him feel immediately uncomfortable.

"Sorry, I don't speak French." He said.

"Oh. Sorry. I said, hey there, handsome." She said in a thick French accent.

"Hi. Is there anything I can help you with?" He asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Mind if I sit with you?" She asked.

His mind screamed no but he didn't want to seem rude, so he nodded. "No, go ahead."

"Thank you." She smiled and sat next to him.

"So, what brings you to Cannes?" She asked.

"The film festival." He said as he stared at her. She looked a little like young Catherine Zeta-Jones. He thought in amusement.

"Ah, of course. Everyone is here for the festival." She smiled.

"What about you?" He asked as he took another sip of his martini.

"The film festival too. I'm a journalist." She said.

"Oh okay. From what publication?" He asked.

"Penthouse." She smiled with a little glint in her eyes.

"Interesting." He stated as the woman continued to give him a smile, making him feel uneasy. She seemed like she was trouble.

"What about you?" She asked, leaning closer to him as she put her right elbow on the table and her right hand under her jaw.

"Oh.. I'm just here to watch good movies." He lied.

"A film enthusiast huh?" She said.

"Something like that." He smiled as he took another sip of his martini.

"Well, what's your name Mr.Film Enthusiast?" She asked.

"James." He said, deciding that it was best not to give out his real name.

"Nice to meet you, James. I'm Camille." She said, extending her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Camille." He said as he shook her hand and immediately retracted it back.

"So, what is a handsome man like you doing out here alone at this hour?" She asked.

"I just need a drink." He shrugged.

"Stressed about something?" She teased.

"Yeah. Something like that." He chuckled.

"Well.. if you need something more than just a drink to help relax." She said slowly as she leaned even closer to him and put her hand on his thigh, startling him. "I can help." She winked.

He shook his head in disbelief. He had an escort in his hotel room and now he was being hit on by a f*****g hooker! The universe really liked to play jokes on him.

"No, thank you. I can deal with it myself." He said as he picked her hand up from his thigh and let it go.

"I won't charge you much. I can see whether someone has money or not." She said, making him laugh out loud.

"Okay. That's enough." He said as he finished his martini in one gulp and immediately stood up.

"James, was it something I said?!" Camille called out to him as he quickly went out of the bar.

He chuckled as he put his hands in his jacket's pockets and walked back towards the hotel. He wondered how things seemed to get crazier for him by the minute.

He glanced at his watch and saw it was only 2.30 am. He was scheduled to check-out from the hotel at 7 am so he still had 4 and a half hours to kill. With Stephanie in his room he couldn't go back there, at least until around 6. By then he could ask her to leave. So he decided to take a walk to kill some time.

He walked past the hotel and headed east. He remembered passing a public park by the beach on the way back from Le Baoli. He could probably sit there and enjoy the view of the park and the sea until the sun comes up.

The park was about half a mile from the hotel. The street was almost empty and the pedestarian road as well. He thought the night life in Cannes would last until morning, seeing how there was the film festival, but apparently not.

After about ten minutes he finally arrived at the park. The park was dark with only some lamps lighting it here and there. He passed a children's carousel as he headed towards a row of benches in the distance. The carousel reminded him of Starlene. If she was here with him he would have played with her, have her take a ride on the carousel. Oh Starlene, daddy misses you so much. He thought wistfully.

As he walked closer towards the benches he saw a silhouette of a man walking towards him quickly. He then heard footsteps walking quickly behind him. He glanced back and saw another man walking towards him quickly. He had a really bad feeling about this and decided to turn to the left and exit the park, but before he could walk very far both men arrived near him. One stopped in front of him and the other stopped behind him. Trapping him.

"Arrêtez-vous là ! Donnez-moi votre portefeuille !" ("Stop right there! Give me your wallet!") The man in front of him suddenly shouted at him in French and pointed a gun at his face.

His heart beat so fast in his chest as he raised his hands up in surrender.

"Sorry.. I.. I don't know what you're talking about. I don't speak French." He stammered.

"Wallet! Give us your wallet!" The other man who was standing behind him said in English as he walked to his front and pointed another gun at him.

"Ooh.. okay okay. Hold on." He said as he slowly pulled out his wallet and gave it to the man.

"Il n'a que cent euros ici. Pathétique." ("He only has a hundred euro in here. Pathetic.") The man said after opening his wallet.

"Give us your cellphone!" The man barked after giving his wallet to the other man.

"Oh, please, no. Not my cellphone." He pleaded, remembering all the contact numbers, data, pictures and videos on it.

"Give us your cellphone or we'll blow your brain out!" The man shouted, pointing the gun near his face until it touched his forehead, scaring him.

"Alright, okay. Calm down. Could I make a backup of it first? All my data, pictures and videos are there and.." suddenly the man hit his head with the gun. His eyes saw stars as he reeled back from the pain on his head.

"Give it to us now!" The man shouted.

For a split second he contemplated on what to do. He could tell the gun was fake by the sound of it when it hit his head. And he really hated to lose his cellphone. It had precious pictures and videos of Y/n and Starlene and his other loved ones. Not to mention all the contact numbers he had. He thought of fighting them. His skills from training for Bucky could be really helpful. But he also promised Y/n that he wouldn't get into a fight anymore.

Seeing how he was frozen in place, the man lifted his hand to give another hit on his head. But this time he was ready. He caught the man's hand before he could hit him and twisted his wrist. The man yelped in pain as the gun fell down clattering to the floor. The light sound of it falling to the floor confirmed his suspicion that it was a fake gun. The other man was about to shoot him with presumably another fake gun, but he didn't want to take a chance. He kicked the man's hand and the gun fell down clattering to the ground. Soon they ended up fighting with their bare hands. He threw punches and kicks at them and managed to kick one of them on the crotch and the other one on the stomach. As they doubled over in pain he immediately ran away from them, but they caught up to him quite fast.

He just reached the row of benches when one of them jumped at him from behind and they fell toppling down to the ground. He ended up lying down on the ground with the man kneeling on top of him. The man punched his face multiple times, and he thought he felt the wound on his eyebrow split open again. With all the power that he still had he kicked the man on his crotch and pushed him away. By then the other man had caught up to them and started fighting him too. The man punched his stomach and kicked his crotch, making him doubled over in pain. The man then gave a hard blow on his head making him fall down to the ground with his face down and everything around him went black.

Chapter 13 >

Taglist

@sebsgirl71479

[primnroses]

who is the most important female character (not the heroine) in konoha in your opinion? I think sakura because she maintains the villagers on top condition but I haven't seen her in a while but also ino is more important too? she's constantly in the story everything but these chapters I don't like how she's written bckawaki has escaped twice and he called them incompetent? it makes me so mad for both of them

The most important female character is Sakura Haruno in Naruto and Sarada Uchiha in Boruto, that's why they're the heroines if the story.

But I think you're talking about the importance regarding the contributions to the village right now if I interpreted your ask correctly. In that case, it's still Sakura, Sakura Uchiha.

Boruto is a sequel of the original story, so everything that Sakura has done for Konoha must also be counted and reflected in the present history, including the spin-offs because Kodachi (a novel write himself) considered them canon and part of the development of Naruto.

Only in Naruto, she already achieved these points concerning her medical career:

She was a student of Tsunade and she was heavily involved in political matters in part II. That already puts her above the rest.

The results of the training with Tsunade made her fit to work in Konoha Hospital since age 16, saving civilians from Pain's attack, healing Naruto after he fought Kakuzu, etc.

She was considered a jōnin level as medical-ninja by White Zetsu, not as a kunoichi. The databook says those medics have near-Godly skills.

She surpassed Tsunade and Shizune, so Konoha would have an even better specialist to take care of people.

After Naruto, during the Blank Period she achieved these:

Official considered the village's best medical ninja outside Kishimoto's words.

She continued to work in the hospital, picking up her labor from age 16 to the present.

Founded clinics in Konoha and other villages to help children who were indirect victims of the war. She was already modernizing and improving Konoha's Medical Department.

Despite not having a high-ranking position in the hospital, Sakura led the medics in the investigation of the Ketsuryugan victims during Sasuke Shinden and she found the cure.

In Boruto, all those efforts were reflected in:

She became the Head of the Medical Department of Konoha with two major facilities in the Hokage Residence and the hospital.

She also directs Konoha Hospital where she also works as head medic.

She's a teacher of medical ninjutsu for the new generation.

She has saved Hinata Uzumaki, Naruto Uzumaki, Sasuke Uchiha, Boruto Uzumaki and Sarada Uchiha in the current story with her knowledge of medical ninjutsu.

She's also a suitable replacement for Hokage.

She's considered as one of the official Five Pillars of Konoha and all the points I made previously are highlighted. She is one of the most important people in Konoha because as it officially states, "she was dedicated to the development of medical care".

Then, you have to measure her importance since the very beginning in her field. She's a veteran in the world of medical ninjutsu, she has been there as the face of medicine and achieving so much since the manga.

Even if you remove the content of the Blank Period, Sakura still contributed to so many things for Konoha.

It's not about not being written right now, if she's not in the story that's because the writer doesn't want her to and he doesn't know how to include her; it's how she has contributed to the village. That doesn't erase her past and all her contributions.

Sakura IS the most important female character of Konoha (without the heroine as you said) exactly because as you mentioned: Sakura is the person who oversees the department that keeps the Konoha and all its villagers and shinobi healthy, and trains field medical-ninja to ensure successful missions.

It's true that she could so much more, like being involved in political matters like before, fulfilling her roles as medic, scientist and specialist, etc. But she's not written like that and it's really disappointing that she's more wasted than ever.

However, if you remove Sakura from the story you have nothing as good as her to fill in her role. Shizune is currently working for Sakura while Tsunade is retired and traveling. They're the only people that can rival Sakura in medical ninjutsu, but both have been surpassed. Replace Sakura with any of them and the result is a weaker health system.

People might say that anybody can supervise a few buildings but it's not that easy because Sakura also actively participates in the vast majority of medical procedures. But none of them have achieved what Sakura has in becoming the best medical-ninja and opening medical facilities.

Replacing Sakura is difficult, not only because there is no one superior in skill, but because up to date there is no type of technology able to imitate her techniques.

-

The same points must be considered about Ino. She's currently the leader of the Barrier Team so let's see her contributions form the beginning.

Only in Naruto, she already achieved these points concerning her sensing skills:

Nothing.

The leader of the Barrier Team was Kakoi, a priest. Nobody from the Yamanaka Clan was in charge of sensing.

She was never praised for her sensing, she was a sensor-type kunoichi, but the major sensing roles were for Naruto Uzumaki and Karin. Ino has never alerted of danger by sensing, she was doing Mind Body Switch in the battlefield.

After Naruto, during the Blank Period she achieved these:

Nothing.

In Sasuke Shinden and Sakura Hiden, the Barrier Team has messenger ninja and other ninja that informed Kakashi that ANBU Root had left Konoha with Mind Transmission, most likely using the Mind Transmission chakra device machine because nobody specifies they're Yamanaka and it wasn't Ino.

In Boruto, Kodachi made the Barrier Team all about the Yamanakas:

The Yamanaka clan are said to have traditionally always led the Barrier Team (this is false).

Ino is the leader of the Barrier Team, although it was said that "members of the clan were in charge of it", only her is shown.

She took the lead in modernizing the sensing system by asking the Scientific Ninja Tools Team to mechanize the unit so the sensing would be automatic.

Then, you have to measure her importance since the very beginning in her field. She has never been in charge of sensing until she was 32 in the current era, but that doesn't mean the Barrier Team is less important because it is. The problem is that it's not written very well and it's lacking, making Ino a very replaceable and removable asset for the team altogether.

As you said, the Barrier Team isn't working well and it's because of these things:

They rely solely on sensing chakra, so hiding signatures and trespassing is very easy because they won't be tracked. Kawaki is a great example of this.

Their range, and Ino's range, is limited to sensing inside Konoha and inside the sensing dome, not outside. This is why Delta and Kashin Koji could perfectly have a conversation outside the limits of the sensory boundaries without being detected.

This problem means that they will only sense people when they have already entered Konoha, but not their approach, literally not preventing anything. If the enemy masks their chakra, these efforts are useless because they won't be detected.

It also means that finding people outside the borders of the sensing barrier is outside their possibilities.

They haven't erased chakra signatures of clones like Jiraiya, so nobody knew that Jiraiya, who's been dead for decades, suddenly entered the village; even after Pain who was a bunch of corpses and Edo-tensei experience in the war.

They still use the Pain Arc's outdated system, even with the machines, because they still are sensor-type connected to the range of the Sensing Barrier, not beyond.

So actually, nothing has changed. All the modern machines and leadership Ino talks about were for nothing because instead of having priests checking the water sphere 24/7, now it's a machine that beeps and serves the same purpose.

On top of that, let's focus on Ino's writing and her role in the Barrier Team:

She was made leader despite not being the best sensor-type of Konoha instead of taking over her father's roles.

Her sensing range is limited to inside the village, anything that happens 1cm outside the gates is out of bounds for her. This means her sensory perception is one the same level as a machine or that she's connected to the machine.

This problem makes her useless at sensing and tracking, instead needing to rely on Naruto's Sage Mode or Boruto's sensing.

All the members of the Barrier Team use a Mind Transmission chakra device to imitate the Yamanaka Clan's Mind Transmission jutsu. This system exists since the Fourth Shinobi World War and allows a wider scope of connection than the jutsu.

That means Ino is not really necessary because her sensing and Mind Transmission are within anyone's reach as long as they wear those chakra devices. She's only been replacing technology and written just to be written.

Kawaki has already called the sensory system "incompetent" and Ino has been removed from the story for now.

Being included in the story doesn't equal being more important. Right now, the Barrier Team and Ino are written to be failures and make mistake after mistake. And there's only the writer to blame.

You can easily remove her from the leadership and nothing changes because: first, the system is the same old from the past whether there's machines or not so it's all reduced to sensing inside; second, a bunch of ninjas with head transmission devices can imitate her secret technique and third, she hasn't shown signs of being better at sensing than anybody so any other sensor could fill in and the situation would be the same: Moegi, Naruto, Karin, etc.

It's compelled insertion in the story. And that doesn't mean she's more important, remove her and nothing changes because she never contributed to anything in the sensing department since Naruto to begin with. All her achievements are in Boruto and as you can see, they're easily detachable.

And I'm not criticizing her as a character, I'm criticizing her writing. Nobody deserves to be called incompetent because they lead a failure team.

Is it fair that there's technology able to do the same things as her and on an event greater level? It's not. If those machines didn't exist, Ino would be a valuable kunoichi for Konoha, but the conditions and the writing don't make her important. She's just written, nothing else.

I will talk about the problems of the Barrier Team and explain the Medical Department in future posts.

[mobiused]

hi mobi mobiused thank you for all the loona blogging you do you’re a champion and a hero. i wanted to know what would your ideal loona album would look like in terms of songs and styling etc like if you got to be the creative and musical director on an album of theirs what would you love to see!

Thank you for the love and support it really means a lot to me. To be honest just because I know they would never do it and because Yves and I were talking about it the other night I would LOVE to see a j-idol style punk/grunge album from them. Now it really doesn't have to actually sound punk, (because 1. this doesn't work with twelve singers and 2. theyre kpop lets stick to that) it just appropriates the aesthetic from them. Ideally pulling from the j-rock scene way more than like present day cringe commercialised cleaned up bullshit you know what I mean. We can steal from the wardrobes of both Avril Lavigne and Tommy Heavenly6 though I'd be happy with that.

For the TT I'd like a shouty and fun song in major that makes you wanna sing along (Yeah sorry this is another 4th gen idol songs without a melody in the chorus LOL) like okay I'm seeing the vision it's a summer school's out anthem like mmm if I had to use examples I'd mix Billlie's Ring Ma Bell (which I thought had the right spirit but was unfortunately way underproduced) and OK please don't think I'm cringe but maybe like you know when Paramore's tone shifted and it became pop rock so yeah like Aint it Fun. So like that... Like a lot of rough guitar presence still but overall it's a good time cheerful mood you know. Maybe a little bit melodic in the chorus then I guess. And also it actually sounds good And thematically going back to the 'Schools Out' theme (And when I say school I mean way less school and way more summer holiday) we're gonna expand on what rebellion means to the girls in-lore. Like what exactly are our silent protests and what are they for. Why are the girls outsiders (aside from the obvious) and where are they taking it. Like I say every time someone asks me I would like it if they picked up the threads that were dropped in the previous MV. Like literally any semblance of continuity would be massively appreciated. And I also think that instead of a loud fuck the haters ITZY-core style rebellion (sorry I actually love ITZY but they're camp and LOONA's pretentious, so), I think building on the theme of Why Not where it's more about aligning oneself with your own values and moving forward in life independent from societal views, as opposed to that meme which is like >lives life in opposition to something >inadvertently makes entire life about said thing (you guys know what I mean. probably) would be a really good way to further it. And it doesnt have to be that lore-y its just like yeah this is a thing that fits with LOONA's brand.

And as for B-sides well they still need to do a real UK House song because flop that does not fucking count. Actually we need a Day & Night sequel forget UK house lets get UK GARAGE. Because it's fucking good and we need another. I think we can bring back a featured instrumentalist not necessarily guitar but like literally anything because getting Jungmo from TRAX on Love & Live went hard as hell even if the song itself was erm. Anyway. I also want it to be danceable because I fucking miss a classic LOONA intro (*says classic but they only did it for two TTs lol*). And I'm bored of explaining so here's the imaginary setlist 1. Intro ft. famous Korean musician 2. Kpop rock title track 3. R&B summer sunset cruising anthem 4. I actually kinda ended up liking the interpolation of Gloria Gaynor in After Like so maybe a vaguely disco inspired track because this is my imagination and I can do what I want 5. UK Garage track. Promoted Bside that shows off their vocals. Yeojin gets a part which shows off her vocals as a treat. Hyeju can have a rap with way too much english that fails to scan because I think it's cute. 6. Acid house track with trance influences and this one can be the fun one at concerts where they just kind of aimlessly hop around and pick up slogans from fans as if they're really gonna keep them

Noticeably NO FUCKING BALLADS.

...Or they could just rip off Rolling Quartz the only group that is doing k-rock right atm teehee