#Hope you haw a nice day darling^^

[ravendruid]

Be In My Eyes - Chapter 10

You can read the previous chapters here or on AO3. Summary: Vox Machina get invited to a party, and Keyleth has the hardest task ever: convincing Vax to go with them.

Keyleth sighed in relief as Greyskull Keep’s automatic glass doors closed behind her. She hated having classes late in the afternoon, especially during fall and winter, since it meant she would have to walk alone at night two days in a row. No matter how many people said the campus was safe, Keyleth was still scared of walking by herself at night in the big city. But it was finally Folsen, and the weekend was upon her, although thinking about the mountain of homework and essays she had due next week made her nauseous and dreading the weekend. 

“Hi! You’re Keyleth, right?” A tall blond girl stood by the elevator with a large backpack and a stack of books in her arms. Next to her was a shorter girl who looked at her surroundings with a scowl. Keyleth recognized the first one as Allura, the girl who had welcomed them on their move-in day, but she hadn’t seen the second girl before.

“Hi! Yes, you’re Allura, right?”

“I am. I remember you from move-in day. This is Kima,” Allura pointed at the shorter woman, who was now smiling, and Keyleth nodded in greeting. “How are you liking the dorms?”

“Oh, they’re really nice. Are you also staying here?” Keyleth asked as they stepped into the elevator. 

“We’re on the top floor,” Kima said, pressing the last button on the list. 

“Keyleth, do you have any plans tonight?” Allura asked with a smirk. Keyleth shook her head and waited, giving the two girls a curious look.

“We’re having a party,” Allura started.

“No, we are not. Gilmore is,” Kima corrected her, and Allura rolled her eyes.

“Our friend Gilmore is having a party at his bar, and we’re in charge of spreading the word. You should stop by.”

“Gilmore?” Keyleth recognized the name. “From Glorious?”

“Yes! Have you been there?” Allura asked enthusiastically. 

“No, but my friends go there almost every week. I will let them know about the party.” Keyleth smiled. The elevator dinged, and she realized it was her floor, so she rushed to exit before the doors closed.

“I hope to see you there too!” Keyleth heard Allura’s voice, but when she turned around to reply, the doors were already shut, and the elevator was on its way up.

“Welcome home, Keyleth,” Pike shouted from the kitchen. Keyleth toed off her shoes and dropped her bag and jacket on the couch before she followed the scent of food. 

“Hi,” She greeted Pike and Vex, who were busy preparing dinner for everyone. Since only three people in the apartment knew how to cook, they had worked on a cooking schedule between them, so on the days Keyleth had classes until late, Vax or Pike would take over the chore. Keyleth didn’t mind it. She had been the first to step in and offer her cooking services since she loved to cook, which she did to show her roommates she cared about them. Pike, being the pure-hearted person she was, had immediately offered to cook as well, claiming to have tons of practice in cooking for large numbers due to her experience with her church events. Vax, however, hadn’t been as easy to convince. He had hemmed and hawed until Vex stepped up and tried to cook one day, and he felt concerned for everyone’s health if they had to eat his sister’s food, so he agreed to cook at least once a week. 

“Hi, darling. How were classes?” Vex asked, doing a poor job at mincing garlic. 

“They were fine,” Keyleth grimaced as a piece of garlic flew off the cutting board and almost hit her in the forehead. “Do you–Vex, do you need help?” She offered sympathetically. 

“No, I’m alright. Pike says I need to practice,” She frowned, clearly unhappy with being forced to learn how to cook.

“That’s right. You can’t survive on frozen meals and fast food, Vex.” Pike scolded, pointing at her with a wooden spoon.

“I ran into Allura in the elevator,” Keyleth raised her hands defensively as another piece of garlic flew in her direction. “She told me there’s going to be a party tonight at Gilmore’s.”

“Party at Gimore’s?” Vex perked up with a smile. “Oh! We have to go.” She turned to Pike, who nodded enthusiastically. “Is there a theme?”

“I don’t think so. At least Allura didn’t mention anything.”

“You are going, right Keyleth?” Pike asked, glaring at Keyleth, who cowered under the piercing blue eyes. 

“Uh–I am?” 

“Yes, you are, and so is my brother. You two are always home. You need to have fun sometimes.” Vex huffed. 

“I have fun all the time,” Keyleth crossed her arms, outraged.

“Reading books and watering plants?” Vex sneered. “I’m sure it’s lots of fun, but you should try new things. Did you come to Emon to stay home or to explore the city?”

Keyleth felt like she had just hit a wall. Vex wasn’t wrong about it. She had come to Emon intending to get out of her shell and try new things, but she had barely left campus since classes started.

“Can you please talk Vax into going? It seems like he only listens to you these days.” Vex continued, seemingly not noticing the effect her words had on Keyleth.

“I–I can try. But I won’t promise anything.” Keyleth offered with a shrug. 

“He’s brooding in his room.” 

“Okay, I’ll go talk to him, I guess. Are you sure you don’t need help?” Keyleth asked Vex, glancing at the onion she had picked up and was about to butcher. 

“Nope, I got it.” Vex gave her a fake smile as she slammed the knife into the onion.

—

Vax’s breath matched the movement of his hands, fast, uneven, and harsh. Sweat beads trailed down his torso and back, and he was glad he had remembered to pull his hair up in a bun beforehand. His arms felt like they were being torn apart from the repetitiveness of the movement, but he wasn’t done yet, far from it. One punch, one breath, in and out faster than his lungs could handle. He was out of shape and knew this was the price to pay for slacking off again.

Vax almost missed the rapping at the door from how loud his heart was thumping in his ears, and the blood quickly rushed from his brain as he stopped abruptly. 

“Come in,” he managed between breaths, his chest heaving and burning.

Keyleth walked in with a smile that vanished as soon as she saw the scene in front of her, her face immediately getting as red as her hair.

“I’m sorry,” Keyleth closed her eyes and turned her back to him. “Vex asked me to come to talk to you. She said you were brooding. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Vax breathed in deeply, and as he was exhaling, his breath got stuck in his throat, and he started coughing.

“Are you okay?” Keyleth turned around concerned, walking towards him with her hands up, ready to support him.

Vax nodded and raised a hand to her, holding her wrist as he finished coughing.

“Sorry, I was working out. Out of shape,” Vax was barely able to finish the sentence before he had another coughing fit.

“Sit down,” Keyleth helped him sit on his bed, holding his arm tightly. “Here, drink some water,” She handed him the bottle he had on his nightstand, and Vax drank slow sips, resisting the urge to chug down the entire bottle.

“So, what did my sister want so bad that she sent you to ask for it?” Vax asked once he recovered. Keyleth’s face was still red, and he figured he knew why: he hadn’t bothered to put on the t-shirt casually crumpled right next to him on the bed.

“There’s going to be a party at Gilmore’s tonight, and we are all going, including you,” Keyleth’s smile did not reach her eyes. Vax knew she wanted to go as much as he did, but if she was saying we, it meant his sister had found a way to convince her to go, which meant he had to go. 

“I don’t know Keyleth. It sounds like there might be a lot of people there,” he dragged. If his sister wanted him to go, enlisting Keyleth to ask was definitely the right move, but Vax needed to know if Keyleth wanted him to go or if she was only asking for his sister.

“Listen, Vax,” Keyleth glared at him, and Vax recoiled, smiling in amusement. She looked adorable when she was trying to look menacing. “Your sister was very insistent that I go out and have fun. I get it, okay? You know I don’t like crowds either,” She paused, allowing him to reply, but Vax was speechless, and all he did was nod at her. “You need to go out and have fun as well, and I would–” Keyleth looked down at her lap and started fumbling with her hands, “I would feel better if I had you there with me, someone who would understand…”

Vax’s heart clenched as her voice lowered to barely a whisper. She wanted him there with her. She wanted him to go with her. 

“Alright, I’ll go on one condition,” Vax offered with a smirk, knowing she couldn’t see it.

“What is it?” Keyleth asked, raising her head, her eyes gleaming with excitement. 

“We’re going to have at least one drink and one dance together,” Vax cocked his head, waiting for her reaction. Keyleth seemed to think for a second, a myriad of emotions that flowed through her brain mirrored in her eyes, and he worried, for a moment, that she would reject him.

“I’m not a great dancer, but I would love to get a few drinks with you,” She counter-offered with a smile.

“One dance and a few drinks. It doesn’t matter if you can’t dance. I’m not asking you to waltz with me, Keyleth. It’ll be fun!” he leaned in, pouting in front of her face, which became even redder against all odds. 

“O–okay. If you’re sure it’s fine,” Keyleth mumbled. “Just don’t yell at me when I step on your toes.”

“I would never,” Vax smiled, pulling away. 

“Does that mean you’re going with us?” Keyleth’s face opened in a grin, and Vax could swear her eyes were even brighter.

“I guess,” He said, leaning back with a smirk.

“Yay!” Keyleth cheered, lunging forward to hug Vax, who was caught unaware and fell onto the bed with Keyleth on top of him. Vax wasn’t sure if Keyleth hadn’t noticed they were horizontal or if she didn’t care because she had still to let go of him after a few seconds.

“Uhm, Kiki. Are you okay?” He asked in a whisper, rubbing the middle of her back.

“Shit, sorry, Vax.” Keyleth got up really fast, hiding her face in her hands.

“It’s okay,” Vax sat up, avoiding looking at her as he was sure his face was as red as hers.

“I’m gonna go tell Vex,” Keyleth turned to face him, but her eyes widened, and she turned back suddenly, almost running to leave the room.

[kazytka]

This is for  @spoopydoodle, i fell in love whit there characters Silk’s back story so badly i made an oc just to send them a virtual hug bunny^^

I hope this comes off sweet not..morbid^^’ 

[scabopolis]

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Hope that I do this properly 🙃

I would adore a XO between Veronica Mars (LoVe) & Once Upon a Time (C/S).

PROMPT: "I’m really competitive and drunk and I just told a rival that my relationship is way better than theirs, but they don’t believe you exist (but I’m too stubborn to admit they’re right)" OR really anything you'd like. Honestly, I'm dying to see Logan and Killian interact/co-swagger.

And / or another installment of "Come Rain or Come Shine" from In Lovers Meeting because I love it with my whole ❤️.

Thank you so much for doing this. You made my day,

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Oh @jjmazzy​ you bring my heart so much joy! I didn’t feel quite up to the task to do a crossover between OUaT and Veronica Mars so I went straight for a OUaT AU. I hope that’s okay? 

This is just a silly little thing that I am realizing only fulfills about 40% of the prompt, but I think it’s cute??

ANYWAY! Enough hemming and hawing xx *** Title: Of Expats and Onion Rings Rating: PG Fandom: Once Upon a Time Pairing: Killian Jones/Emma Swan (mentions of Robin/Marian and a smattering of other characters) Additional Tags: Two out of three of my OUaT fics feature Killian as a bartender, silliness and only half a prompt, probably way more fluff than is medically recommended Word Count: 1,500

Every Friday night, Emma Swan sits on the same barstool at the same bar in the same restaurant. This Friday night has her staring into space as she lets the sounds from the kitchen and the bar swirl around her. It’s busier than usual, with almost all the booths and tables filled and the bar area half-occupied. In fact, when she first walked into the bar, she worried there wouldn’t be a seat for her. But the bartender caught her eye and waved her over, a menu and a glass of water waiting for her in her usual seat at the end of the bar. 

Said bartender slides her an Old Fashioned, extra maraschino cherries on the toothpick per usual. 

She takes a small sip of the drink. “Why is it so busy?” 

Killian’s eyes roam about the room and then come back to rest on her. “Some magazine labeled us the best kept secret in Portland, Maine.” 

“And in doing so—”

“Assured that we would never be a secret again. Yes.” 

“The pitfalls of fame.” 

“Burger or chicken sandwich?” 

“Burger. Any chance—?”

“Aye, probably a very good chance, but only because Graham is sweet on you.” 

Emma feels her cheeks redden. “He’s not sweet on me.” 

“Sure he isn’t.” 

She watches Killian step away from the bar and into the kitchen to talk to Graham. How Graham can manage to listen to anything given the noise of the dining room and the kitchen she’ll never know. Graham and Killian both look over at her. Graham rolls his eyes but nods, and Emma raises her glass in thanks. 

“Okay,” she says to Killian when he’s back at the bar. “He might be a little sweet on me.” She takes a long sip of her cocktail. 

Killian’s brow is knit with concentration. “Long day?” 

She nods. “I had a run in with Zelena.” 

“Ah. The wicked witch of the northeast. What’d she do this time?” The ticket printer next to Killian’s till spits out a long drink order, but he listens even as he mixes drink and pours glasses of wine. 

“She got engaged over the weekend and hasn’t shut up about it. And today, she took great pains to ask me, in front of everyone in the faculty lounge, if I’d be okay if she didn’t give me a plus one.” 

“Bit rude, isn’t it?” 

“Right? But then she kept going on and on asking how long it’d been since I dated someone, and did I know that after 35, forty-five percent of women’s eggs are considered genetically abnormal and her fiancé is a very wealthy furniture manufacturer and she’s certain he has some less attractive less wealthy friends he could introduce me to and on and on and on.” 

“Does she truly want you at her wedding?” 

“Oh, yes. She said she wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She runs her finger along the condensation of her glass. “Which is when I did something very very very stupid.” 

“Smacked her?” 

Emma snorts. “I wish. No I—” Her explanation is interrupted by the arrival of her burger and the plate of special order onion rings. Onion rings which are technically available only as an add-on to the steak sandwich but that Emma has a 80% success rate of cajoling the kitchen to make her a plate of. 

She eats her meal with one eye turned to Killian, waiting for a long enough lull in the drink tickets to finish her story. She’s almost finished her burger when Killian slides another Old Fashioned in front of her.

“What was this very stupid thing you did?” he asks, leaning towards her. 

“I told her I was dating someone.” 

Killian remains where he is but she notices the clench of his jaw. “Ah,” he says. “I was unaware.” He seems to hear his own words as he says them because he cringes. “Not that there’s a reason you would tell me. I mean, we’re friends, but friends in that way that I get you drinks and —”

Emma rests a hand on Kilian’s to stop the rambling. “I’m not. Dating anyone, that is.” 

“Then why—?”

“It just popped out. I’m not sure who was more surprised, me or Zelena.” 

“So, this fake boyfriend of yours. Just who is he?” 

“Well, okay, so this makes sense when you remember it’s Friday, and I knew I’d be coming here.”

“Right,” he says, equal parts cautious and curious.

“I told her my boyfriend was British.” 

Killian shakes his head. 

ExPats has been her weekly haunt for close to a year now and while not everyone who works there is a British expatriate, with Killian as bar manager, Robin as front of house manager, Graham as chef de cuisine, and Phillip as pastry chef, it kind of feels that way.

“And that he had blue eyes,” she continues. 

“Ah, I see,” he says, teasing her. “Are you telling me you’re sweet on Graham too?” 

“Not Graham.” 

“In that case, Marian is likely going to have a big problem with you trying to date her husband.”

“And, uh,” she clears her throat, “I told Zelena he has dark hair.” 

Killian wings an eyebrow. “How dark?” 

“Uh, right about your color probably.” 

“My color?” 

“Probably. I said probably.” 

“Interesting.” Emma takes a sip of her drink. There’s a delicious, hazy feeling brought on from the second cocktail washing through her veins. “So, you and I are dating?” he asks. 

“Stupid. It was so stupid.” 

“I wouldn’t say that. I mean, I’ve been meaning to ask you out for months now. This might be just the little push I need.” 

“What?”

“What?”

“What did you just say?” 

“What now?” he asks in return, the picture of innocence. 

“You’ve been trying to ask me out?” 

“Not as such, no.” 

“Oh.” She sinks back in her seat, disappointed.

“I didn’t want to risk you running scared and not being here every Friday night.” 

Emma perks right back up again. “Oh?” 

“You already said that, love.” 

Emma looked down at her plate, the remnants of the crispy bits from her onion rings on her plate. Something occurs to her then. “Graham doesn’t give these to me because I want them. Does he?” 

“Excuse me?” 

If she’s not mistaken the tips of his ears have gone a little red. She loves his little elf ears. “He makes these for me because you ask him. Don’t you?” 

“I might have told him they bring you an inordinate amount of joy.” He scratches idly at a spot on his arm. “And that it brings me an inordinate amount of joy to see how happy they make you.” 

“Did you know my weekly ExPats date used to be on Wednesdays?” 

She can see him try to mentally adjust to the change of direction in the conversation. “Really?” 

“I only came in a few times, but then one week, I had parent/teacher conferences so I came on Friday. And there you were.” Emma shrugs. “Your Old Fashioned is better than Will’s.” She bites off one of the maraschino cherries from the toothpick. “Your smile is better, too.” 

“Emma, darling, are you flirting with me?” 

“What? Suddenly it’s a crime to flirt with my boyfriend?” 

Killian laughs and it makes her heart hum. She likes the clean line of his throat as he tilts his head back. “Your boyfriend? I don’t suppose you’d want to go out on a date with, then?”

“I’m free on Wednesday.” 

“Funny that,” he says. “That happens to be my day off.” 

“Is it?” 

Emma would be content to sit at this bar all night and let Killian smile at her and make her drinks. It seems like Killian is having similar thoughts, until something seemingly flies out of nowhere to hit him in the back of the head. 

Killian reels around to find Robin standing there, arms folded across his chest. 

“What’d you throw at me, you git?” Killian asks. 

“A dinner roll.” Robin gestures at the drink ticket printer. A ticket printer which has at least 10-tickets waiting to be fulfilled. “Pardon, Emma. Mind if he stops flirting with you long enough to fulfill the drink orders?” 

“You’re fired,” Killian says. 

“For the last time, mate, you can’t fire me. My name is on the lease right next to yours.” 

“Murder it is, then.” 

“Make the nice customers their cocktails and then you can murder me.” 

Robin walks away, and Emma notices it’s not just her at the bar who finds herself charmed by the whole display between the two men. She thinks she might see a small group of women sneakily taking a cell phone video, giggling as they watch it through.

“Emma, I’m sorry, but I—”

She waves him off. “Do your thing. I’ll be here.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, and when she nods, he beams. “Good, because if we’re in a committed relationship I’m probably going to need your phone number.” 

“Pour the drinks, you goon.”

[obeymeluv]

Red String of Fate (Pt. 2)

See “Red String of Fate” for the drabble lead up + Lucifer, Mammon, and Asmo. This post has Levi, Satan, Belphie, and Beel

To Levi:

Doesn’t understand what it is

Tries to shake it off without breaking his game mojo

Ends up getting it accidentally wrapped around the joysticks, losing the match, and spends the next few minutes silently fuming and trying to untangle everything

His tail slaps angrily against the floor as he grumbles and huffs, trying to be extremely delicate with whatever disaster this is

 Finally succeeds and stares at his finger in silence for a few seconds, trying to pick the knot.

Starts trying to pull it off. It doesn’t work.

Asks his friends what it could be

Asks whatever the Devildom equivalent of Google is

Makes the “OooOOOOooh!” because this sounds like a sure thing?! A definite soulmate?!

THERE IS SOMEONE FOR HIM, A LOWLY, YUCKY OTAKU?!

Levi explodes out of his room like the aquarium has busted and will flood the whole house

His pupils are doing the slit-narrow hyperfocused hunter thing as he tracks the red string like an enemy through a scope

Accidentally mows you down trying to speed walk to the end of the string.

Is super excited about the string now. HOW LONG IS IT? WHERE DOES IT GO? WHO’S AT THE END?!

You hear his tail wagging and slapping things before you see him, and that’s 0.5 seconds before he mows into you.

Accidentally steps on your foot in the process, so you fall in an graceless lump.

Levi’s pulling at the string like an excited kid. WHERE DOES IT GO, WHERE DOES IT GO? WHERE DOES IT GO?

Realizes he’s pulling your hand up and tugs on it a little in disbelief. Ends up making you wave at him and he gives a little giggle.

Then it hits him all over again and you get another “OooOOOOoooH!”

Scoops you up off the floor, tail wagging enough to take the breath out of Asmo.

He holds you to his chest and feels like some victorious Henry. Hopes the lighting is good and that this moment is as magical for you as it is for him. (Does his hair look good?). The pinky-red smoke is basically like a cool anime effect, right?

Levi gives the shyest, softest ‘mine’, as he cradles you to his chest. He purrs a little, tucking his tail up towards your body, basically offering it for you to hold.

His room is your little private palace. He hopes you like it.

To Satan:

Was quite content minding his own business, reading for pleasure after a long day of reading for necessity (i.e: school)

Doesn’t really feel it at first. He turns a page and hears this absolutely maddening drag of a scrape that makes him want to stab someone.

Sees the string. Tries to flick it off. Proceeds to shake his finger. That doesn’t work, so he tries to roll it off or at least roll it to the tip of his finger

Satan slams his book down with a furrow in his brow and transitions to his demon form. Starts trying to fray it with his claws. When chewing on it and trying to break it on his horns don’t work, he stalks up his bookshelves to find the section on Hexes and Curses

Imagine his surprise (and yours) when you and Asmo enter his room. The supposed love or your life is in full demon form and splayed across his bookshelves like a spitting lizard. Or a dragon defending its hoard.

Asmo is BEYOND disappointed. Kind of aggravated. “THE worst way to find a soulmate EVER!” Asmo picks up the closest book and throws it at him for good measure (it misses by a long shot).

He yanks on the string, trying to rip him off the bookshelf.

Satan drops down, already back to his normal form by the time he lands on his feet, and stomps over with mild indignation that someone could call him THE WORST at something

Also: what the hell is going on?!

Asmo explains and Satan goes very, very red. He’s completely at a loss.

Well...at least he knows you’re a sure thing! In a way, it’s good to know you’ll have someone no matter how much of an ass you make of yourself

You take the hand from his mouth, the pinky-red smoke seeming to frame you both, and jokingly ask if he has any good books to take your mind off things.

“Certainly, but perhaps you’d be more interested to hear about that over dinner?” (”That’s better!” Asmo nods and crosses his arms, walking out of the room as if he fixed the problem).

To Beel:

You should be grateful he was already at the House of Lamentation, having a post-homework snack, when the red string appear.

Who knows how hard or how far you’d be dragged if he was at sports practice?!

Beel doesn’t notice it until his next bite, when something catches against his fangs and slips out of his mouth. It tickled his lips and made him do a double-take

He’s in the middle of sucking sauce off his finger when he confirms the string is not flavored or edible.

Is kind of annoyed he has to switch to eating with one hand

Wants to ignore it because he can still reach the fridge and cabinets but gets annoyed when it catches across the table and tries to knock over little things like salt and pepper shakers

Takes a big bite of his current food item (a sandwich), sets it down, and starts fishing through the draws for knives

None of the knives work. He has moved to the cleavers

Chips away at some of the prep table so he stops with the cleavers.

Tries to burn it off. Does not work

Beel isn’t sure what to do, so he grabs his sandwich and goes to Lucifer

On the way to Lucifer, he hears Asmo crow down the hall “AHHH! IT’S TO BEEL! MY DARLING BABY BROTHER! OOH, THE CUTEST! IT’S PERFECT!” way before he sees him or you

This lovely big boi just stands there, a little confused and expecting Asmo to explain it (as he always does. Asmo always has something to talk about)

Asmo’s got you by the arm and is running towards Beel. Beel finally notices the excess of red string, and that you’re tangling in it.

You fall against him and a cloud of sweet pinky-red smoke explodes around him.

Smells like sweets should taste. He wants some Celestial Realm sweets now

“A soulmate, huh?” Beelzebub looks down at you. His cheeks slowly pinken as that genuine but sly smile spreads on his face. There could be worse people, for sure. “Want to go celebrate?” he gives you the biggest puppy dog eyes.

You can’t say no. Beel holds your hand all the way to the restaurant.

To Belphegor:

There is a new texture near him and he doesn’t like it

Belphie doesn’t open his eyes, but he tries to adjust his blankets and pillows until he doesn’t feel it

When this doesn’t work and he sense the thing is still around, Belphie opens his eyes to see he’s tied up in the stuff

Grumpy, sleepy boy

Demon chirps/churrs for Beel to help him

After his big bro helps him untangle, Belphie sulks around, dragging his pillow, to figure out where this thing goes and what the hell it is

Probably tries to fry it with a bit of magic, but it fizzles out the second sparks touch the string.

Belphie may be the sleepy kind of lazy, but he knows his magic spells. That one SHOULD work.

A spark of interest has him a little more awake now. Belphie straightens up and walks a little lighter

“I didn’t expect anything grand since Belphie’s so tired, but this has its own charm.” Asmo critiques, touching a few fingers to his lips to smother a giggle.

Belphie does look quite adorable, standing there with a dash of confusion amongst his exhaustion. Bonus points for his cute little pillow dragging the floor behind him.

All of the bros know better than to mess with his naps and Belphie’s glare is slowly powering up. Asmo has a few seconds to explain before Belphie knocks him into the nearest wall with the pillow. It WILL hurt.

Asmo keeps teasing and hemming and hawing, and it’s not until the pillow is literally over Belphie’s shoulder (gearing up for the down-swing) that Asmo blurts out “SOULMATES! YOU HAVE A SOUL MATE! THEY ARE YOUR SOUL MATE!”

You become the sacrificial lamb, Asmo shoving you towards Belphegor to save his hair (mostly)

The pillow slides over the top of your head and down your back as Belphegor slowly brings his arms around you in a hug. A nervous hug. A shocked hug.

Someone like him gets a soulmate? That almost seems to generous.

That pinky-red smoke explodes in his face. Belphie sneezes cutely. Cuter than he’d like to own up to.

The action causes him to bump his head against you. At first it hurts but his brain quickly overrules the inconvenience to realize how nice your hair is and how he can lean his head on you

His body melts into yours and Belphie barely has the forethought to tuck the pillow under your head as his body weight sends you both crashing to the floor.

Totally ignores Asmo yelling “BELPHIE, NO!” in the background as he tries to catch you or prop you up. Belphie actually slaps him with his tail and continues to the fall to the floor.

The pillow will protect you. He has full confidence

“Sleepy,” he mutters, readjusting his head until it fits nicely in the curve of your neck. He kind of wishes he brought a blanket.

You tentatively pat his head and play with his hair. Belphie purrs, tail sweeping the floor.

[rosesisupposes]

If you're craving prompts, might I humbly request DLAMP, "we keep doing everything out of order."

…this took much longer than I planned, and is far longer than I planned. Also, much fluffier. But I hope you like it, dearest @potestessemagishomosexualitatis 💗💗

Last To Know

Pairing: (hurtling towards) DLAMP

Warnings: immigration, marriage of convenience, mild swearing? I think that’s it

Word count: 3,135

Tag list: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice  @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse​ @thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty @max-is-tired @almostoveranalyzed  @hawthornshadow @mariniacipher 

read on ao3

There was a very reasonable explanation for all of this. It had been purely a logistical decision. Four acquaintances of Logan’s needed a place to live in his city; Logan had four vacancies in the house he owned and rented. He always kept the top floor for himself, making new tenants a risk, but he at least knew of the others through a combination of mutual friends, shared classes back in undergrad, and generally living in the same area.

They’d settled in fairly easily, right up until Roman confessed his visa was running out and he would likely have to leave the country. Patton had immediately started crying and hugging Roman and insisting they’d find a way to keep him there. Logan was unaware of when Patton had started caring so much. But even Virgil looked distressed, and Damien started wondering aloud how well they could hide him in the house so that he didn’t have to leave.

“Why can’t you apply for a new visa?” Logan asked.

“I’m no longer a student, and I’d need a more regular job for them to sponsor me for a full green card…” Roman said, facing Logan with some difficult thanks to Patton still being twined around him.

Dee’s dark eyes alit. “I know! You should marry one of us! Spouse visa! And then you can work on citizenship!”

“Isn’t that a bit extreme-” Logan started, but he was interrupted by Patton and Virgil both raising their hands as volunteers and Dee cackling in delight.

“But how to choose,” Roman said mournfully. “All my best friends in the world, how could I possibly marry only one of you!”

Virgil suddenly smirked, and Logan looked over curiously. “You know…” the dark-clad man said thoughtfully. “If you’re marrying someone for a visa, it really should be someone responsible and trustworthy. Someone who could believably support you.”

Logan had no idea what he was talking about, but suddenly all heads were turned towards him, and there was a more-than-a-little disturbing resemblance in the mischievous grins on each of his housemates’ faces.

Roman gently dropped Patton back onto the couch, and strode over to Logan wearing his “pompous prince” face (as coined by Virgil, of course). Stopping a foot away, he bowed elegantly.

“Dearest Logan, generous landlord, resident nerd, first stop for endearing space trivia and Sherlock obsessions, would you do me the great honor of giving me your hand in transactional matrimony?”

Logan blinked once. Then twice. Then attempted to speak but only achieved opening his mouth like a particularly stunned fish.

“Is that a yes?” Patton whispered to Dee in the background.

“I think it’s just gay panic,” Dee whispered back, looping an arm around the smaller man’s waist.

“…me?” Logan finally got out.

“Yes, my textually-charged academic,” Roman purred, taking Logan’s hand in his. “I need a man to support me in this foreign land of haw-yees and rednecks, you are the only one I trust to protect me.”

“Hey, we’d protect you too!” Virgil objected, sitting down on top of the couch. “But if you were in trouble, Patton would cry, I’d probably end up punching someone by accident, and Dee’s plan would either end in flames or crimes or both.”

“…isn’t this proposal also Dee’s plan?” Logan asked weakly.

“Yes, but this one is wonderful,” Roman said, kissing Logan’s hand in a way that was not distracting at all, thank you. “Plus, this way you don’t need to find a new lodger midway through the year!”

“I suppose that is a perk,” Logan admitted. “And the immigration process is so convoluted, this would likely be easier…”

“That’s the spirit! Almost!” Patton cheered. “Logan, you own a tux, right?!”

“Yes, why?”

“For the wedding, silly!”

~~~~

Logan really should have thought this through more. But the house had dived into preparations before he could properly object. Dee had made a Pinterest board and “ironically” sent Logan post after post of nerdy wedding aesthetics. Patton kept sneaking up on Logan and Roman with cake samples to try. Virgil popped his head into Logan’s room on a regular basis with out of the blue questions like “Black Parade could be a reception song, right?” and “How many volts of fairy lights could we run without fucking over the electric bill?”

And Roman just kept… being Roman. Flirting outrageously in that way that clearly meant so little to him but was starting to mean something to Logan himself. He’d taken to kissing his hand a lot and greeting him as “my darling fiancé,” and sitting next to or practically on top of him whenever the group was in the same room. Logan found himself agitated by how easily he was blushing now, all the time.

Roman had apparently opened the floodgates, because everyone was being far too affectionate now. Yes, Patton had always been a hugger, but now he kept planting kisses on Logan’s cheek, and holding hands with Dee, and sitting on Virgil or Roman’s lap and sometimes both at once. Dee flirted with, Logan was quite sure, every single person he laid his eyes on ever. But now he kept upping the ante and using fantastical phrases and wordplay tailored to the object of his attention. Logan had had no idea that being called ‘starlight’ would be quite so jarring and endearing and infuriating all in a moment. And Virgil had entirely betrayed him. They used to be the two reasonable ones, or so he thought. But no, Virgil was willingly participating with all of this madness, and had an amazing irritating habit of rubbing the nape of his neck when he was stressed so that all his muscles went involuntarily fluid and relaxed.

Logan arrived home one day to see their small backyard decked in lights, all the lawn furniture moved to the side so that the patio was clear. Patton greeted him at the gate with a hug and yet another cheek kiss as he said, “Lolo! Thank goodness you’re home, you need to get changed!”

“Whatever for?”

“Silly, it’s the 15th! The wedding!”

Logan stopped in his tracks. “I thought we weren’t going to the courthouse until next week?”

“Yes, but the semester will be over and all our friends still in undergrad won’t be able to make it. So we’re having the reception part tonight. We had this whole conversation after the movie last week, don’t you remember?”

But Logan did not. He didn’t even remember which movie it had been. Because Virgil had been slowly stroking his hairline, right at the back of his neck, and Patton had been lying across his lap so that he was across all three of Roman, Logan, and Virgil, and Roman had been giggling and leaning into his side in a way that it only made sense for him to lift his arm and drape it around him, and Dee had been telling Virgil how lovely his eyes were and… Logan had absolutely no memory of any other conversation that may or may not have happened.

But apparently that meant they had a party tonight.

Virgil convinced him to wear the tux still, and Patton blocked off the kitchen to finish the cake in secret. Dee kept making cracks about helping him change, but Roman was mysteriously absent all afternoon. Logan definitely didn’t miss him. It had only been a couple of hours! That would be silly and ridiculous and not what a highly logical person would do.

As 5pm arrived, Logan was in his well-tailored midnight-blue tuxedo. Dee, grinning in a tux with a bright yellow tie and matching gloves, arrived at his bedroom door to ‘escort the groom to the festivities.’ Somewhere on the walk down the stairs, Virgil joined them in a plain but nice-looking suit in black with a purple vest.

They walked out into the yard, filled with friends from the city and university they’d all attended. Everyone was in various forms of ‘their best’ from sundresses to cocktail dresses to gowns, from suspenders to jackets to tuxes, and some wonderful mixes of the two. Patton, glorious in a blue dress, had a microphone (where had they found a mic?) and greeted all his housemates happily and loudly.

“And now that the whole gang’s here, we can welcome the star of our hearts and the show! Roman, come on out for your first dance!”

Logan was pushed into the middle of the patio and Virgil held his shoulders facing away from the house. He could hear the door opening behind him and some “awws” and gasps from the crowd. Logan turned to look but Virgil held him, grinning. “Patience,” Virgil said teasingly.

Finally, the arms released him and Logan turned. Roman was only a couple of feet away, and he looked… stunning. He was wearing a gorgeous fluffy gown of red and gold and sequins, and matching makeup. Logan reached out a hand without thinking, and Roman took it with a smile. Music began to pour out of the speakers.

“It’s a beautiful night/We’re looking for something dumb to do/Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you”

Logan snorted. “A little on the nose, perhaps?” he murmured.

“I wanted to be precise,” Roman said back, lacing their fingers together and placing his free hand on Logan’s waist. With Roman taking the lead, they started to dance around the small dance floor of the patio. Virgil had done an amazing job with the fairy lights, rigging them to create a ceiling of sparkles that cast them all into a warm golden glow.

Roman suddenly smiled wide, and spun Logan around, letting his hand go free. Before Logan could catch himself, Dee caught his hands instead. Now Logan and Dee were waltzing around the floor in parallel to Roman, who was now dancing with Virgil. Their height difference made it a little awkward for Virgil to reach Roman’s shoulders, but then he lifted Roman by the waist to spin him through the air. The watching crowd whooped, and Roman laughed out loud, and Logan accidentally stepped on Dee’s foot because he forgot to watch where he was going. He stumbled, but was caught by something soft and blue. He looked down into huge blue eyes and a freckle-dappled smile.

“Thank you, Patton,” he said. “I’ve not quite got the hang of this dancing thing.”

“Maybe I can help!” Patton replied, pulling Logan close and guiding them into a simple waltz. “One-two-three, one-two-three,” he counted softly, and Logan followed the count, watching his feet.

He kept looking up slightly and then down again. Something about how bright Patton’s smile was, and how the lights reflected in his glasses and eyes, he just couldn’t look too long. But he did note that Dee and Roman were dancing now, some complicated dance that Logan felt himself mentally tripping just watching. But the two biggest drama queens of their house were in perfect sync, moving with fluid precision and both grinning hugely.

A tap on his shoulder pulled Logan’s attention to his side. Virgil smiled comfortingly. “Can I cut in, Lo?”

“Of course, Virge!” Pat said, stepping back. Logan was going to object to yet more dancing, he was, but Virgil had dressed up for this, and he was just self-conscious in front of crowds, so it would just be more polite to not turn him down. Virgil guided Logan’s hand to his hip, and Logan most definitely did not blush to be able to feel the shorter man’s muscles even through his formal outfit. And Patton had swirled off to dance with Ro, something much less regimented but with plenty of twirls and giggles. Dee kept the music going with “Can’t Keep My Eyes Off Of You,” and Logan and Virgil danced sedately, just swaying and turning.

“Virgil, why isn’t anyone else dancing?” Logan asked. “I thought after the first dance, the guests joined in?”

“Well, that is how it works for traditional weddings, yeah,” Virgil said in his familiar rumble. “But what about this is traditional?”

Logan chuckled at that, and let himself relax into the dance. Roman parted from Patton to change the music as Dee and Patton started to swing dance. Virgil and Logan both grinned watching them. Clearly all those old movie marathons had paid off.

Finally, Patton broke off and grabbed Virgil away from Logan. As the shortest members of the household, they were matched perfectly, and Virgil was willing to twirl and lift Patton to make the other man wriggle and laugh. Roman took the opportunity to pull Logan into his arms once more, and the crowd finally started to fill out the dance floor.

“Have I told you how good you look tonight, Logan?”

Blushing would absolutely be his cause of death. He hoped there wasn’t an afterlife, otherwise he would never live it down.

“I… thank you. Your dress is very dramatic and a little ridiculous but it’s so you.”

“They told me I couldn’t have a quinceñara,” he replied with a sniff. “So what better way to celebrate now?” They spun in relative quiet for a moment, when Roman smiled softly. “So, are you enjoying our wedding so far, Lolo?”

“You know, I rather am,” Logan admitted. “My feet are starting to get a bit tired, though.”

Roman swept Logan up off his feet and into his arms. “Is that better?”

Logan blushed hotly, muttering, “I meant I needed to sit down.”

“But is it better?” Roman wheedled. “No lying to your almost-husband, dear nerd.”

“…yes,” Logan admitted, and Roman laughed. The world was fairy-lights and glittering gowns, Logan was surrounded by his favorite people in the world, and later there would be five-tier cake and Crofter’s. It wasn’t something he’d ever expected, but he wasn’t such a stick-in-the-mud that he wouldn’t admit that it was magical.

~~~~

The flourescent lights of the courthouse were a far cry from the dreamlike lights of their reception, but today was the day and they were getting legally married. Logan was still a bit unsure about how they had reached this point, but found he cared less and less.

The whole house had come, of course, Patton linking Virgil’s and Dee’s arms around his own as he bounced in excitement. They waited through the decently-sized line until they finally reached the desk.

“Good morning, we would like a marriage license, please,” Logan said.

The clerk grinned just a bit bigger. “Congratulations! And what date would you like it made out for?”

“Today, please,” Roman said happily, linking his arm with Logan’s and squeezing. Patton make a sound of delight behind them.

The clerk nodded, and typed on the computer until they were interrupted by a question. “Do you know if it’s possible to enter a legal partnership with more than one person in this municipality?” The seemingly-idle question was in Dee’s unmistakeable drawl.

“Oh, yes, certainly! Marriage, domestic partnerships, and adoption can all be amended to have any number of partners. I think we need special permission at ten or more, but even that is still possible, just a longer process.”

Roman squeezed Logan’s arm tighter. “Lo? Is that okay?”

Logan looked back in confusion. “This is for you, Roman. Whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

Patton squealed again, and hugged them both from behind. “Form for five, please!”

Logan supposed that was all right. That would make it more believable, right? If Roman was equally committed to all his housemates, that would be more reason to let him stay in the country. And it made Patton so happy.

He felt slightly divorced from his body as he went through the motions of showing his ID, and signing the forms, but suddenly they were finished, and Roman had his arm looped around him on one side and Dee was on the other. Pat and Virge were on the outside, both snickering as the group tried to walk down the hallway without detaching with varying levels of success.

They were married. All five of them. And Roman would get to stay.

As they got home again, they all ended up sprawling across the couches. They fell into their most comfortable configuration, with Logan the only one sitting normally. Patton was taking full advantage of being the small one to sit across their laps. Dee was lying on the back of the couch up against the wall, fingers intertwined with Roman’s where he lounged diagonally with Pat’s head in his lap. Virgil was upside-down from the back of the couch, curled oddly so his head was on Logan’s thigh but Pat could still hold his hand.

Logan sighed contentedly.

“Whatcha thinkin’, Lolo?” Dee asked, a little sleepily.

“I was just reflecting on how comfortable I feel with you all. Even though we started as mere acquaintances, I do think of you all as very much like my family, now. And it’s rather nice that we’re legally a family now, for however long.”

Logan didn’t see the glances exchanged around and over him, but did hear Roman’s question. “How long would you like us to be, Logan?”

“Well, as long as it takes for your citizenship, of course.”

“What about after that, L?” Virgil asked.

“I… I don’t know. Divorce is rather a process, I suppose we could stay in this arrangement until a large enough inconvenience comes along to justify it.”

“So… you would like to stay married to us all?” Patton asked. Logan couldn’t tell what his tone meant, but there were hints of… curiosity.

Logan answered slowly. “I believe… yes. I would. I am… rather fond of you all, and always appreciate the time we spend together, for whatever reason.”

Roman smiled softly, and reached out to pat his face. “We love you too, Logan.”

Logan blinked. “Love? In which sense of the word?”

“Romantic, you dummy,” Dee muttered, practically falling asleep on the back of the couch.

“…wait, you… all? Romantic? Love?” Logan stuttered.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Yeah, man. Normally that’s what marriage means. Plus our first dances? Of the people in love?”

“Hey, don’t make fun of Lolo, he’s not that good at his own feelings,” Patton chided. “Yes, cupcake, we all love you. We thought you knew.”

“Oh,” Logan said, blushing. “I… apologize for being the last to know. I suppose it’s a good thing that I’ve fallen in love with you all, too. We keep doing everything out of order, don’t we?”

“Nah, ‘s just you,” Dee said, snuggling into the blanket Roman had just passed him, seconds from sleep.

“But we all got here in the end,” Virgil said, a comfortable rumble on Logan’s left.

Logan ran a hand through Patton’s soft hair, and smiled at Roman, who’d started it all. “Here’s to arriving, then. I look forward to being your collective husband.”

“We love you too, Lolo.”

[fluidityandgiggles]

Dalton Big Bang day 11 - The Natural Next Step (coffee shop AU)

Writing Masterpost, AO3 Link

Notes: Sperril will not let me go, and so I shall write for them.

(Who cares? They're adorable)

Meeting one

"Logan, back me up here?" Charlie called into the break room, to his fellow barista, who was currently on break. "Your boyfriend is here!"

"Good!" Logan called back, pushing his glasses up without even looking at Charlie. "I'm having lunch."

"Okay!" Julian laughed as he saw Charlie come back and immediately turn to Dwight, letting out a loud "yeehaw!".

"Yeehaw?" Dwight replied, getting away from the cash register to join Charlie. "Yeehaw, yeehaw!"

"Yeehaw, yeehaw yeehaw—"

"You made your fucking point!" Logan almost screamed by then, getting out of the break room as the two Texans started laughing. "Yee fucking haw. Yeah, yeah. Fuck you too."

As Logan went to greet (read: kiss) Julian and get his order, and the others could not help but make fun of the two, Merril silently thanked them for keeping her out of it. They were her friends and she loved them all very dearly, but they could be a wild bunch when they wanted to be… and it could honestly sometimes be a lot. So these times when they all got this chaotic, Merril counted her blessings and smiled to herself.

She was in the middle of piping the meringue on top of a lemon pie when she heard another commotion outside, looking as Dwight ran into the kitchen to grab a cup of water.

"Are you okay, darling?"

"He's here."

----

Spencer Willis didn't think, not in a million years, that he would ever become a set designer for an off-Broadway show. He didn't even think he'd enjoy set designing at all, until getting discharged on medical grounds from West Point.

It took him a year to recover, spent while living with Justin in New York and not doing much more than physical therapy and just being dorks together, and then he applied to Syracuse. It was an easy choice to make - it's still in New York, so he could still see Sydney from time to time; he could afford it, between his parents and some scholarships and grants he could apply to; and best of all, it had a great art department, at least according to his research (and Justin's sister's friend Lucy who also applied).

Lucy Westwood was, for a lack of a better word, quite chaotic. The eighteen-year old costume design major quickly took to the twenty-year old art major, which didn't go unnoticed, and before Spencer knew it he was asked by his professors if he thinks theatre design would be a better major for him. Well, less asked and more told to try a couple courses and see how he likes it, and��� in stage design he ended up staying. It was still art, and amazing art at that, but it was also a lot of physical, tactical work, and he fell in love with all of that.

It's been four years since graduating Syracuse. Four wild, wild years, where he got to meet and befriend Reed Van Kamp, get roped into the theatre world harder than ever before, and as of a few months ago and thanks to Reed's insistent pleas, also start working off-Broadway on a revival of Assassins.

He still couldn't quite wrap his head around how this happened, but somehow it just did.

"I saw Shane again last night," Reed told him and Lucy as they joined them for lunch, in the middle of a long day none of them could guess just how long it'll end up being. "He's so good! Lucy, he's so good!"

"Now you're going to tell us we need to come see Once On This Island," Lucy laughed, bouncing as they waited at the queue at the cafe they ended up going to. "You've told us that several times already."

"Mercedes Jones is a goddess, okay? And a literal one in this production! And Shane is really good as Daniel, and Jane, the girl who plays Ti Moune, is just… I can't praise them enough! I think I'm in love with a whole cast. Can you be in love with a whole cast?"

"I think you definitely can," Spencer answered them, watching as the cashier ran away into the kitchen. He started doing that after the third time Spencer and Justin came here, to meet with Justin's boyfriend Charlie, and they had a conversation about Cats that got the whole cafe involved in it. He always felt bad for the poor guy, but to each their own, he supposed. "Hey, Chaz."

"Oh, hi," Charlie chuckled as he came to the register for now. "I swear, Dwight needs to get over that Cats debate…"

"No he doesn't, he's fine."

As Reed and Lucy left the queue to sit down and Spencer stayed to order - "two caprese sandwiches, an omelet sandwich, two chocolate cake slices and three iced coffees, everything to-go so Reed won't hurt themself" - Dwight showed up again, being pushed out of the kitchen by possibly the prettiest girl Spencer's ever seen.

"...Spence? Dude, you're gonna pay?" Charlie even waved a hand in front of his eyes, and it's only after the girl runs back to the kitchen that Spencer shook back up, realizing he's been staring.

"Uhh… yeah, sorry. Yeah."

----

Meeting three

The depression hit Merril pretty hard about two weeks ago, and this was the first time in ten days that she left the house. She showered, changed clothes, cleaned her apartment somewhat, all in attempt to make herself feel better, but nothing really worked.

But… that nice guy from the c-- Spencer! Spencer asked her out on a date last time they met, and she'd never back out on this… not to mention she might seem like a flake if she does, and it's so unfair to him, he's so nice and sweet and, and…

"Merril, go home," Charlie told her the second she stepped into the cafe. "Honey, you don't have to work today, remember?"

"I'm here for a date," she reminded him, sighing tiredly and going to hug him. She could smell his detergent as she did so, calming down almost instantly. Charlie… smelled like home to her.

Then again, isn't that what he was for her…?

"You look beautiful," he reassured her, patting her head gently. "You bought this dress with Casey, right?"

"Mmhm."

"It looks very good on you. I'm so happy for you."

"Thank you…" She smiled into his chest. It's the first smile she managed in over a week.

"Get away from the counter now," he told her after a few moments of hugging. "Go sit down. You have a date."

"Who has a date?" Came the question from Logan, who came back from the break room, wiping his hands with a paper towel.

"Merril does."

"Oh, hello!" He smirked at her, in that uniquely Logan way of his, and she just had to smile back. "Who's the lucky fella, mom?"

"Don't you have band rehearsal today?" She teased back.

"Drew canceled in favor of meeting Alex's parents."

"Oh, poor guy… sucks to work an extra shift, doesn't it?"

Just as Logan stuck his tongue out at her, Spencer stepped inside the cafe, barely looking for her before just heading over and sitting down next to her.

"Hi."

She smiled at him, swatting at Logan to go away. "Hi."

----

Seeing Merril in that blue floral dress, with her hair curled around her face and her eyes sparkling so beautifully, Spencer didn't want this date to end.

But alas, he was needed back at work soon.

"So…" Merril twirled a lock of hair around her finger, sipping her iced tea. "You really don't mind dating me…?"

"No!" He called almost immediately, startling her. "Merril, you're… so out of my league. You're so beautiful and smart and nice, and-- and you're the baker here, so obviously you're talented, and--"

"No, no no no, Spencer…" She took her hand, her face falling. "Spencer, I'm transgender."

"Okay, so what?"

It took a second, but then she just looked at him so weirdly, like she can't believe his words.

"What… what do you mean, so what?"

"You… absolutely ruined my expectations in women. I don't care what your body is like, you're perfect in my opinion, I enjoy being around you, I would love to keep dating you, and I very much hope you would the same. So, so what? You're a girl that I like. I like you very much even."

Merril just laughed.

"What… what's happening--"

"I like you very much too," she told him, through sad laughter. "And I would love to keep dating you too."

"Oh, that's-- that's good! Can I kiss you?"

She laughed again, and nodded, and Spencer could swear he heard Charlie and the other barista cheer as he leaned in to kiss her.

He did too, in his own way.

----

Meeting twelve

It was Julian's birthday, and Merril could see Logan avoiding work and just hanging with him and their best friend Derek near a window. She was almost finished with his cake, just piping a small happy birthday on top of it, when Dwight ran into the kitchen.

"You need to stop doing that, darling. Spencer isn't going to kill you."

"He's a cursed man," Dwight told her, making her chuckle. "You're dating a cursed man, Merril."

"Oh dear… did you not know I like Macavity?"

It took him exactly three seconds to put his cup of water down and march right out of the kitchen, hollering "I HATE THIS FUCKING FAMILY".

"But I do!" She called after him, going back to finish the cake right afterward. Poor guy… She never meant to upset him, but…

Huh. Maybe it was just a touchy musical.

"I want to try something new," she heard faintly from the front, smiling a little to herself. On their third date, Spencer told her that he decided to try new types of coffee every day - he's an artiste, after all, so what's a little experimenting going to do - and that she should be prepared for some bizarre drinks. Of course, she reminded him she's not the barista, but…

"And what would it be today, Spence?"

"A cortado with lemon."

Of course.

She stifled a laugh when she heard that, almost dropping the cake before she even picked it up. She steadied herself, picked the cake back up and left the kitchen, watching Charlie hold back from beating himself up over Spencer's order.

----

"A cortado with lemon?" Spencer nodded as Charlie just stared at him. "Do you know what you're ordering?"

"Nope."

"...I'm fucking glad you're not ordering an iced pumpkin spice latte at least," Charlie sighed as he slid Spencer's card for him. "It's the middle of August."

"Glad to not disappoint for once."

As Spencer waited for his coffee, he watched Merril hug Logan after serving his cake, then come over to hug Spencer himself.

"Hey there, Gilear Faeth."

"Stop calling me that," he laughed. "But hi."

"You know a cortado is just an espresso with a bit of milk foam, right?"

"...what the fuck did I just order?"

Merril just giggled. "I can't tell you, I've never tried it."

"I'm going to die…"

"Spencer?" Charlie called after a bit, and he let go of Merril to go get his coffee. "Here's your poison, man."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're here late," Charlie pointed out as Merril ran to the bathroom, kissing Spencer's kiss as she goes. "What's the occasion?"

"I got two tickets to see Once On This Island. Reed finally convinced me…"

"That's their boyfriend's show, right?"

"Yeah. They finally broke me, and Merril's interested, so I got two tickets." He took a sip from his drink. "Oh god, this is disgusting."

"I'll replace it for you with hot chocolate for free if you stop ordering stupid drinks," Charlie laughed.

"I would like that very much, please and thank you."

Merril came back from the bathroom after a few minutes, dressed in a clean red dress instead of her black shirt and jeans, her makeup retouched, to see Spencer drinking a cup of hot chocolate instead of his absolutely random abomination.

"I'm ready. Are you?"

----

Meeting seventy-seven

Merril and Charlie were closing the cafe that day - well, more like Merril was closing and Charlie spent most of his time talking with his boyfriend (who just so happened to stay there after closing so he could "pick Charlie up") - when Merril found an envelope under the counter.

An envelope addressed to her.

"Charlie, darling, it's not payroll day, only tomorrow…" her eyes got dark as the boy turned to look at her. "What… what's going on…?"

"Mom, it's not what you're thinking," he was quick to say, but she was quicker to cry.

"I… I don't understand, what…"

"That… was supposed to be for tomorrow. Spencer asked me to help him surprise you…" She just looked at him confused. "It's nothing bad. Let's finish here, go home, you'll get to cuddle with your boyfriend and watch whatever cheesy show you two watch nowadays. Tomorrow it'll all make sense."

"Spencer adores you," Justin tried to add, looking quite worried. "This is a good one, we promise."

"I…" she took a second to stop shaking before putting the envelope back in place, feeling something hard inside of it. "Okay… you're his best friends, I'm going to trust you."

"Go home, Merril," Charlie sighed, watching her fumble. "I'll finish here. Please."

"...fine."

----

Spencer showed up for lunch the next day, ordering his omelet sandwich and iced coffee, and a slice of lemon meringue pie. It was a quick order, one made fully knowing that Merril would join him for lunch today.

"...and a chocolate cupcake, please."

"Sure thing."

Merril joined him after thirty minutes, looking grateful to be off the clock for the day as Dwight brought over a cup of green tea and an envelope, looking rather suspicious to be near the table.

"God save your soul, Spencer," he told the man before putting Merril's things down and leaving.

"...is he still about that?"

"I don't know, honey. We're working with him on it."

They ate lunch, talked about their day, but Spencer couldn't help looking at the envelope like it was about to kill him.

"...and then Dwight just-- Spencer…?" Merril kissed his cheek, making him look at her. "Honey, what's happening?"

"Can you open the envelope please…?" He looked off to Charlie, who gave him two thumbs up. "The anticipation is killing me."

"Oh! Oh… sure." She frowned as she opened it, too focused on making it neat to ignore Spencer getting down on one knee as a ring fell out of the envelope.

A delicate gold ring with a lovely blue stone in the middle of it, and three tiny diamonds on either side of it.

"Spencer…?"

"You're perfect for me," Spencer managed to say as he grabbed the ring, holding it up to her. "Merril Portman, you are perfect. I love you more than words can describe, and if I started listing the reasons why we'd be here until Sunday in fifty years."

"Spencer, I love you too, I…"

"You complete me, Merril. God, I can't tell you how much I've gone through that just seemed to… go away when I'm with you. So… this is just the natural next thing to do."

She started crying. Merril won't lie, she started crying. Prompting Spencer to give her a hand, squeeze it a bit, watch her smile through her tears.

"Merril Portman… will you do me the honor of--"

"Yes!" She laughed, still sobbing. "Yes, absolutely, I will marry you."

They kissed and hugged and kissed some more, to the cheers of everyone around them, and it didn't really matter how much Merril cried or how odd Spencer felt the rest of the day afterwards. This was just the natural next step for them.

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 5 of love is the only thing we can carry with us (kristanna slowburn/angsty but cute/no magic au, rated t) is up! 

next chapter // all chapters

Kristoff groaned. “Are you this stubborn with everyone?”

“No, I just save it all up for you.”

He threw up his hands with an exasperated sigh. “Fine. But I’m not making any promises that they’ll grow.”

“Can you promise that they won’t?”

He didn’t even bother to respond, just shook his head, muttering something under his breath about “city people” before stalking off to hitch Sven back up to the wagon.

But she had seen it just before he had turned away: that tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth, that bare beginning of the smile that she was beginning to realize was a dead giveaway that, beneath his grumpy exterior, Kristoff Bjorgman was actually starting to like her.

“It’s a little late in the season for this.”

“A little late, or too late?’

Kristoff groaned. “Are you this stubborn with everyone?”

“No, I just save it all up for you.”

He threw up his hands with an exasperated sigh. “Fine. But I’m not making any promises that they’ll grow.”

“Can you promise that they won’t?”

He didn’t even bother to respond, just shook his head, muttering something under his breath about “city people” before stalking off to hitch Sven back up to the wagon.

But she had seen it just before he had turned away: that tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth, that bare beginning of the smile that she was beginning to realize was a dead giveaway that, beneath his grumpy exterior, Kristoff Bjorgman was actually starting to like her.

He had been trying to cover up that fact ever since he had so carefully draped a blanket over her on their very first trip into town together, now nearly two weeks ago. But it was too late; that small act of kindness had revealed the truth to her, and ever since then, she had been determined to get him to show his softer side again. She hadn’t been successful yet, but Anna was nothing if not an optimist.

She followed after him, tickling Sven behind the ears. “How are you today, my darling?” she cooed. “Have you gotten enough carrots?”

“Don’t listen to him. He never thinks he’s had enough,” Kristoff said, and the reindeer snorted in response. 

Anna giggled. “I agree, Sven. He’s full of it.”

Kristoff groaned again, shaking his head. “It’s not fair when you two team up against me,” he complained half-heartedly, holding out a hand to help her clamber up into the wagon. She took it gladly, impressed as always by the way he helped her so gently before swinging himself up with such ease. As he settled into his seat, she couldn’t help but give him a sidelong glance, eyeing the solid muscle of his arms and trying to gauge just how strong he really was. She had a feeling he could lift her with ease, and the thought was oddly satisfying. 

He glanced down at her as they set off down the hill, noticing her gaze. “Need something?”

“I-- uh, I’m just cold,” she said quickly, and he nodded. He reached behind the seat for the blanket with one hand and offered it to her. She took it, trying to hide her disappointment, and draped it around her shoulders. One of these days, he was going to slip and show her his soft side again, and on that day-- well, she didn’t really know what she was going to do, but it would definitely involve a lot of gloating and “I-knew-it”s and maybe, just maybe, an admission that she was starting to like him, too.

They were back within an hour; normally Anna came up with an endless list of excuses to prolong the time she got to spend out of the cottage, but today she had been so excited to get back that she was nearly bouncing up and down on the seat of the wagon.

“I’m serious, I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” warned Kristoff as he pulled a shovel from the back of his wagon. There was one more hint of his kindheartedness, Anna noted; she had first asked him about planting a few flowers the day before, and he had hemmed and hawed rather than giving a definite answer. 

People who don’t want to help you plant a garden definitely don’t bring their own shovels, she thought triumphantly, reaching to take it from him. He held it out of her grasp, raising an eyebrow.

“Let me do the digging.”

“I can do it! How hard can it be?” she demanded, reaching towards it again. He responded it by lifting it in the air, too high for her to reach.

“I’m serious. Even if you weren’t sick--”

“I can do it!” she insisted, jumping a little to try and grab it. “You’re just worried I’ll turn out to be a way better shoveler than you.”

He huffed out a laugh. “That’s not even a word.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Prove it.”

“Now you’re trying to distract me!”

“Fine. Here you go, feistypants. Have at it.”

He held out the shovel to her, and she took it gleefully, only to stumble slightly when he let go. Why were shovels so heavy? 

Kristoff raised an eyebrow. “You got it?”

“Yes,” she said, planting the tip of the shovel in the ground. How hard could it be?

As it turned out, much harder than she had imagined. After a few moments of struggling to force it deeper into the earth, Anna stamped on the top of the shovel, breathing hard. She succeeded only in knocking it out of position, though to her relief a little dirt came loose with it. Feeling a faint sheen of sweat break out on her forehead, she stuck the shovel back in the earth again, and it wobbled. The teasing glint in Kristoff’s eyes had gone out, replaced by concern.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

She nodded, embarrassed. “The dirt, it’s, uh...harder than I thought it would be,” she said. In truth, she had woken up that morning feeling weaker than she had in days, and the trip into town had sapped most of what energy she had left. She’d thought she could manage digging up a garden plot on the power of I-told-you-so’s alone, but it was clear that that had already run out.

Kristoff, to his credit, didn’t tease her, just took the shovel again and easily dug two short troughs in the earth. And Anna definitely didn’t notice the way his shoulders flexed underneath the fabric of his shirt as he did so.

He turned back to her. “Right. You want to help plant the seeds? Or are you worried about getting your dress dirty?”

She responded by sticking out her tongue and immediately kneeling down next to the pile of upturned earth, pulling the small bag of seeds out of her satchel. “I just drop them in the hole, right?”

He knelt beside her. “Well, with these, you want to put two or three little seeds close to each other and leave a couple of inches between each set.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Not all of the seeds will sprout, so you put a couple in the same place, then leave space between so there’s room for them to grow.”

“I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“Honestly, me either. But it’s the way I’ve always done it.”

She laughed and carefully poured a few seeds into her hand. “You are the expert, I guess. At least more than I am.”

She planted each seed carefully, Kristoff nodding in approval when she heaped the dirt back on top and patted it into place. “Maybe we’ll make a mountain girl out of you yet,” he teased.

“It is sort of nice to get dirty. Once in a while, at least,” she admitted, examining the dirt under her nails with an exaggerated grimace.

“You’ll have to get used to it if you want this garden to grow. But it’ll be worth it, won’t it? Wasn’t having a garden part of your-- what did you call it? Happy ending?”

“Happy ever after,” she said absentmindedly, before suddenly turning to look at him with narrowed eyes. “You remembered that?”

He shrugged, trying just a little too hard to seem disinterested. “I did, I guess.”

Anna smirked, feeling very pleased with herself. “You do listen to me!”

“Only when there’s nothing better to do.”

She reached over and shoved playfully at his shoulder. “Oh, shut up, Bjorgman. You know you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

“Right, when you go back home and get your prince. That was part of it too, wasn’t it? Your handsome true love?”

She nodded solemnly. “The most important part.”

“So what’s he like?” “What do you mean, what’s he like?”

Kristoff raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that question really needs much explaining.”

“Well-- I haven’t actually met him yet.”

His jaw dropped. “But you’re getting married!” 

“Yes, and?”

“But you-- you’re going to marry someone you just met that day?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “I’ll meet him a few weeks in advance. He’s coming to Arendelle in the fall, then the wedding will be in winter.”

“Aren’t you worried? I mean, what if he turns out to be a jerk? Or ugly? Or boring?”

Anna wrinkled her nose. “He won’t!”

“How do you know? Do you even know anything about him?”

“I know he’s a prince from the Southern Isles, and he’s about my age, and he seems very nice in his letters.”

“He seems nice, until he shows up here and turns out to be a vampire or something.”

Anna scowled and stood up, brushing her hands off on her skirt. “You seem awfully invested in my love life all of a sudden.”

Kristoff stood up, too. “I’m not,” he said defensively. “I’m just trying to understand it.”

“Well, we’re in an alliance with the Southern Isles. So this is proof of the goodwill between our countries.”

Kristoff shook his head. “But it’s your life.”

“And it’s my duty,” she countered. 

“I’m just saying, if I wanted a happy ever after, I wouldn’t be marrying a stranger.”

“It’ll work out. Everything happens for a reason, and it all works out for the best in the end.”

He just stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Anna stood as tall as she could, staring fiercely up at him until he sighed and shook his head.

“Guess it’s none of my business,” he said. “I need to get back home, anyway. My grandfather needed help with...stuff.”

He shouldered the shovel and walked back towards the wagon. Why is this upsetting him? Anna wondered, biting her lower lip. Before he could tug on the reins and start off, she called after him, “Kristoff?”

He didn’t even look back. “I’ll be back tomorrow to help you water the flowers. Have a good evening, Anna.”

She stood and watched him go, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Why did this seem to matter so much to him?

And more importantly-- why did what Kristoff thought suddenly matter so much to her?

[starfleet-wannabe]

You’re my Best Friend- Joe Mazzello x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Pregnant!Reader reflects on her Pregnancy while sharing a lovely moment with Joe in their kitchen.

Word Count: 1739

Warnings: Fluff. Just pure unadulterated fluff

A/N: This story is written and dedicated @elliesmithy3  aka. @rogerina-yee-haw who inspired the idea, without you this wouldn’t have come into fruition. Ellie, you are my muse and you never fail to make my day! I have recently started writing again as a hobby and this is only my second posted piece. It was really fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy, it means a lot to me that you would take the time to read my story.

Parenthood used to scare you. The very idea of a helpless, defenseless creature needing your care and attention to survive used to shake you to the core, as you imagined every little possible scenario that could go wrong. It didn’t help that as a writer your mind was prone to overthinking these horrific scenarios as a single thought would refuse to leave until you focused on every little detail. However, this was all before you met Joe, all before he became the love of your life.

  You had been married for nearly two years before you both decided to try for a family of your own, and with luck on your side, you became pregnant only after a couple of months of trying. To say you were excited would be an understatement. To say Joe was excited would be an insult to the word itself. You practically had to teether Joe to your side as he was bouncing off the walls with his energy, every part of him oozing with excitement as he couldn’t wait to become a dad.

“That’s our baby in there Y/N,” Joe said almost every single time he put his hands on your bump, wanting to feel every movement the baby made. His smile, while bright on its own, appeared to shine at over a million watts since you told him the news, never leaving your side and never taking his hands off of you!

“You are just so beautiful,” Joe said as he watched you in the kitchen, while you were making a small meal you were craving. Your Spotify playlist set to a classic rock station, as you continue to stir your meal.

“I’m glad someone thinks so,” You said, having not felt that well recently about your appearance. You could no longer see your toes when looking down and needed help with getting off the couch. While Joe was more than happy to help with every little thing you needed, you hated feeling like a burden to others and having to be dependent on other people.

“Y/N, I mean it,” Joe said a determined look in his amber eyes. “You are doing something so spectacular right now, you’re creating a baby, our baby, and that is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Joe wrapped his arms from behind you, resting his hands on your bump and if, on cue, your little ball of joy decided to kick back.

“Well dear, she already likes you,” You said turning off the stove and turning to face Joe. “I swear every time you’re near me, even if it just your voice she decides it’s time to play hacky sack with my kidneys.” Joe laughed at your comment before kissing your cheek.

“What can I say Y/N, I guess she just daddy’s little girl,” Joe said his smile growing bigger than before, a feat you were sure had to be impossible at some point, while he continued to run circles on your bump. 

You still remember just how enamored he was when you learned you were having a daughter. When the technical asked if you wanted to know the gender, you both couldn’t say yes fast enough, however, Joe said his at breakneck speed making you wonder when he learned to talk even quicker than he normally did. With the cold gel on your belly, and your right hand holding Joe’s, you looked on screen as the technician moved the wand over your stomach. You have done many ultrasounds before, but each one was more spectacular than the last, as you watched over the months of your baby developing, enjoying watching them hiccup on screen, as you felt their movements within you, fascinated by the sheer fact that this baby was growing inside you.

“Congrats you two,” The technical stated breaking you out of your train of thought. “It’s a girl!”

You felt your heart stop at the news, as you tried to process the information. You were having a daughter and couldn’t help but to start tearing up as you thought about the little girl moving within you, feeling her squirm, and that’s this was a little girl you already loved with your whole heart without ever having held her in your arms. You were already so in love, and you wondered how you were going to have more love to give her. 

When you turned to Joe, with tears in your eyes, the first thing you noticed was the stream of tears running down his face, like a waterfall into a river. Joe looked at you with so much love in his eyes. You couldn't help but fall in love with him all over again. You have always adored how sensitive Joe could be, and this time was no different. He stared at you for a bit, before looking back at the monitor, new tears forming as his eyes lingered on the screen. 

“We’re having a baby girl, Y/N.” He said at a whisper, still processing the news before his grin grew into an even bigger smile. Before you realized it, he started showering you in kisses, starting at your cheeks before finishing with a long tender kiss on the lips, unlike anything you ever felt before. This man never kissed the same way twice.

“I’m glad your happy, dear,” You said letting your fingers trance a few of his tears away.

“Y/N, I’ve been happy since the day you said you would marry me. This is just perfect! Life is just perfect! You are just perfect! And our little girl is going to be just as perfect as her momma!” You could only smile back, as your husband asked for at least ten copies of the ultrasound wanting to have a keepsake of this moment forever, his mouth still moving at nearly a hundred words per second.

It was the next song that came on the station that broke you out of your train of thought and caused you to look into Joe’s brown eyes, the lights of the kitchen showcasing the red hue of his auburn hair. It was the grim on his face that let you know he was thinking the exact same thing. 

“Do you still remember how our dance went to this?” You asked putting your arms on his shoulders as you did nearly three years ago. While he might have had on a nice tux back then and you had on a white dress smaller than your current size, the feeling remained the same; this man was the love of your life. “I might not be able to do all the moves.” You said looking back at your bump, a lovely smile on your face as you watched Joe put his arms around your waist, his fingers lingering on your stomach.

“That’s not a problem at all babe,” Joe said as he started to lead into swaying back and forth in your kitchen. “You’re my Best Friend” becoming white noise as you just looked at him and caressed his cheek, examining all the features you hoped your daughter would process. You wanted her to be a mini copy of Joe with ginger hair and brown eyes running around the house. You found yourself longing for the days when Joe and her would be driving you crazy in the best way possible, as he no doubt would spoil her, giving her every little thing she would ever desire, showering her with so much affection. You looked at Joe and saw all the fears you ever had for the future go away, as you knew he already processed so much love, more than any man should be allowed to. When she started kicking up a storm again, you pulled Joe right hand from your waist and watched as his face lit up with every little kick. He kneeled before you and lifted your shirt to reveal a small sliver of skin, his hands laying on both sides of your stomach, and while there were days you felt as big as a house, you couldn’t help but feel like a goddess right now, as Joe’s attention was to the little life you created within you.

“Hi Baby Girl,” Joe said before placing a kiss above your navel. “We’re very excited to meet you, just a couple more weeks until we get to hold you in our arms.” His right thumb tranced the spot he kissed before your daughter decided to kick again. 

“Until then, please be kind to Mommy, she works so hard to provide so much for you, and you need to treat her with respect.” You could feel your eyes water up as you continued to watch as he bonded with your bump. 

“I love you so much and can’t wait to show you off to the world.” Joe got up from his knees and look at you as if he was looking into your soul. His features soften as his big brown eyes poured with love. Pulling you into a passionate kiss, you felt your breath hitched, as you leaned further into the embrace, closing the space in between as much as you could with your bump in the way.

  “You are going to be the greatest dad ever Joseph Francis Mazzello III.” You said after Joe broke the kiss, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. 

“Only because I have an amazing wife to share this journey with,” Joe said placing a kiss on your forehead. “I can’t thank you enough for this wonderful gift.” His hands found there way back to your stomach, lingering for a moment before returning to your waist.

“Right back at you darling.”

“Hey babe,” Joe said causing you to look up, as you saw his eyes wide opened, staring at the stove behind you before he started laughing to himself. “I think your food is getting cold.”

“Let it get cold. I have all the warmth I ever need right here.” You said looking at him with a grin on your face. “Plus I found a better craving to satisfy me.” You said as you leaned your head on his shoulder and taking in his scent. You have never been happier. Ever fear, and every anxiety you ever had about becoming a mom failed to exist, as you knew that as long as you had Joe by your side, you would be able to handle anything in your way.

[bemused-writer]

Title: Slithering Through History - Chapter 1

Rating: T

Pairings: Aziraphale & Crowley, Aziraphale/Crowley

Summary: Crowley was all too happy to get out of Hell and cause a little trouble up in Eden. What he didn't realize is how much more wrapped up in humanity and a very particular angel he was about to become.A look at what Aziraphale and Crowley might have gotten up to throughout the biblical text and after Armageddon.

-x-

Falling entailed a great many things and poets had done a fairly decent job of capturing the horror and the chaos thereof. What they’d never quite been able to capture was what came after. Yes, hellfire, brimstone, pain, suffering, all staples of Hell but no one ever really let on just how crowded it actually was down there or just how corporate. Crowley thought it was probably due to how much more real and depressing that would have been and probably because the concept of a corporate entity wouldn’t truly exist until the 20th century.

It wasn’t so bad in the early days before human souls were being damned left and right. No, in the early days it had only been fallen angels and they’d been frightened and confused, desperately trying to sort out what they were supposed to do now they were no longer part of the Heavenly Host.

It had taken awhile for it to sink in but their punishment was to inflict pain and suffering—Satan had given them a long lecture about it in the tone of voice of a man who really didn’t care anymore and wasn’t it marvelous he had his own throne? Afterwards he’d put Beezlebub in charge whose eyes had widened comically before accepting. Crowley had had to restrain himself from giving a sibilant chuckle at the whole absurd affair.

Still, Crowley had often wondered how much of a punishment it really was if so many of them enjoyed it. Oh, they’d been reluctant at first. They’d been angels and they didn’t know much about pain, not really. It took several meetings and presentations before the seven sins were sorted out and everyone felt like they had at least some idea of what their jobs entailed.

In fairness, Crowley could admit a good number of them didn’t derive any real pleasure out of torture but they weren’t all that hung up about it either. “It’s just a job,” they would say. “Nothing personal.”

Crowley desperately tried to convince himself he felt the same. He was a demon and he would do his duty. He wouldn’t fail, not like Before.

Still, he knew the truth of it and it was he hated it down there. The second Satan said, idly, “Would you like to see the Earth, darling?” after one of his presentations on wrath he jumped on the chance as swiftly as possible.

He broke through the warm soil and felt as if he’d been reborn. He turned his head left and right and slithered about. Most snakes had legs but he thought there was something delightfully off-putting going about on his belly, no legs in sight, draping himself about trees; he was the very picture of sloth, which was, in turn, positively sinful and if sinning was to be his eternal gig he was going to indulge.

The garden was, he reluctantly admitted, utterly stunning insofar as his limited senses could tell. He supposed that was Heaven for you; always caring about presentation more than anything else.

While his eyesight was utterly shot compared to what it had been as an angel he could tell there were infinitely more colors here than there ever had been up there or down there. Heaven was very … stringent when it came to looks. He wasn’t sure he’d seen anything other than opulent whites, rivers that gleamed like the finest opals, and gossamer robes made to match when he’d been there. Every now and then there’d been a gold pillar or some such. As for Hell, they couldn’t be bothered to decorate. Some idiot had licked the wall once and died on the spot. They’d spray painted a warning on the wall and called it good and that was about as close to design as they came.

But this felt … very earthy for lack of a better word. He could feel the vibrations of footsteps of all manner of creatures. He couldn’t make out much sound though. There were some serious downsides to being a snake, he decided. The garden was nice and warm though, which was good. He didn’t think he was made for the cold.

Now, what kind of trouble should he cause?

He circumnavigated the garden and used his tongue to detect all the heavy flavors in the air, hoping to spot God’s latest creatures, the humans. He could taste something divine to the east, light as a cloud and sharp as judgment. An angel.

He’d have to steer clear of that for a while, at least until his work was done. It had been ages since he’d seen one of his previous brothers-in-arms. He’d certainly never tasted one before. He thought about that for a moment. Something about the sentiment seemed … appropriately demon-like but it wasn’t a joke that would make much sense until he understood humans more and their penchant for lewd humor.

At long last he spotted a woman named Eve. He also spotted the two trees that were off limits: The Tree of Life and The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Bad.

He considered the three for a moment. The Tree of Life was certainly handy but that would almost definitely qualify as a “good deed,” no doubt about it. Knowledge of good and evil on the other hand…. Well, it wasn’t “bad” exactly but it definitely wasn’t “good” either. In other words, it was just wicked enough to keep his bosses happy without being so wicked he felt bad about it.

Perfect.

Apparently, God found it a good deal more wicked than Crowley had. Eve and her husband, Adam, were banished from the garden lest they also eat from the Tree of Life and become a little too god-like themselves.

Also, punishments were dished out like candy. Apparently, there would be enmity between him and women, there would be birthing pangs, and men would till the earth.

I rather liked that woman, he thought glumly.

Most annoying of all was that all snakes were slithering about on their bellies. So much for originality. Needless to say, the other snakes weren’t thrilled. He avoided them for a century after. It was utterly ridiculous; they were animals and he was a demon—he was more than capable of winning any confrontation—but he couldn’t quite make himself look them in the eye all the same. He was sort of their demonic representative and, well, now they didn’t have legs.

Even small creatures would bear a grudge over that for a while.

Regardless, Adam and Eve suffered a lot more for his sin than he did. Maybe that was why he sought out the angel gazing after them longingly atop the gate. He wouldn’t readily admit it but he felt a little guilty about the whole thing and his curiosity was piqued. The angel looked utterly miserable, far more than him, which made no sense whatsoever. He wondered if they’d ever known each other in Heaven.

As he slowly transformed into a more human guise his senses changed along with him. He could hear loads better now for a start but his eyesight was still iffy albeit a little sharper than before. He could sense movement well, make out shapes, see color although not like he had a as an angel. The color was … splotchy. He supposed he was seeing the heat radiating off of things or something similar. He may have been a snake but he was hardly an expert. Thankfully, he could still taste everything on the air and that gave him enough information to get by.

He was a little disappointed he couldn’t make the angel’s features out all that well though. Still, he was the brightest object in the surrounding area by far, so he was easy to spot.

The angel jolted a little bit when he saw him. Understandable. He could just make out the pinched expression on the angel’s face; it was hilarious but he kept that to himself.

He hadn’t expected much by way of conversation. Honestly, he’d known there was a pretty high chance the angel would try to smite him but instead they had a decent enough exchange. Apparently, he’d given away his fiery sword. It was the first time Crowley had felt awe in … ages. His heart gave a little tug in his chest that he refused to name.

As they stood in the rain with Crowley safely sheltered beneath an angelic wing, Aziraphale, said, “You know, I was supposed to be the one to guard The Tree of Life for the rest of time.”

“Sounds boring,” Crowley said without hesitation. All the world to explore and he was going to be stuck guarding a gate? But then he realized, “Wait, what do you mean ‘supposed to be?’”

Aziraphale let out a put upon sigh. “Well, to quote, ‘He drove the man out, and stationed east of the garden of Eden the cherubim and the fiery ever-turning sword, to guard the way to the tree of life.’”

“Er, what exactly are you quoting?”

“A book that hasn’t been written yet,” the angel said miserably. “But the main point is I’m supposed to be guarding this gate and I’m supposed to do it with a fiery sword. Well, you see what the problem is.”

“You gave up the sword.”

“Precisely.”

“So, the humans could become immortal at any point?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I think they understand they’re banned from this place but what about their descendents? Oh, I probably did do the wrong thing. No, I know the sword bit was wrong but the rest…”

“No offense but if God wants to hide this garden I’m sure She can do just that. If you were going to be punished it would have happened already.”

The angel shifted uncomfortably, his eyes refusing to make contact with Crowley’s own. Crowley eyed him with suspicion.

After a bit more hemming and hawing Aziraphale finally whispered, “I’m not a cherubim anymore. God didn’t say anything but… I could feel it. The demotion, that is.”

“What are you now?” Crowley said with careful neutrality.

“A principality,” he sighed. “All the way down to the third sphere.”

“Not so bad. You could have gone down a lot further.”

Aziraphale paled considerably and his eyes widened in shock. It was like he was seeing him for the first time and only now understood what he was. Crowley tried not to look too uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

“I suppose you make a good point,” he finally said, turning away.

“I usually do.”

Privately, he wondered why Aziraphale hadn’t Fallen. It left an ache in his chest when he remembered his own Fall and how pointless it had seemed.

“So, what will you do now?” Aziraphale said just as the storm finally passed. He looked up with a pleased little smile. Crowley couldn’t help but feel his burden lift a bit at the sight. It was nice to have someone who wouldn’t push him away even if his status as angel was utterly bewildering.

“Oh, you know, tempt people, I suppose. I’m to be stationed on Earth.”

“I suppose that is what you’d be doing,” Aziraphale sighed. “I suppose I’d best keep an eye on this gate for now.”

“No offense but there’s no way I’m staying in this garden.” Although part of him desperately liked the idea of hanging about the angel. All before him was an expanse of desert and only two humans to occupy it. Crowley didn’t want to admit it but it sounded rather lonely.

Aziraphale let out a quiet chuckle. “No, I didn’t suspect you would.”

“Would be a shame if demons were the only ones trying to make a difference,” Crowley said lightly with just the barest hint of the temptation he was trying to accomplish.

“Someone needs to inspire some good in this world,” Aziraphale said consideringly.

“I’ll see you around, angel,” he said with a gentleness that surprised him. He could have pushed harder but … it just didn’t seem right.

“You know, you just might.”

When Crowley departed he decided not to resume his snake form just yet. He kind of liked appearing human. It reminded him of being an angel and, better yet, was just a little bit blasphemous because of it. The other demons had gone to quite a bit more trouble to look wicked but Crowley decided he wanted to have a bit of style. It would be a lot easier to tempt humans if he looked like them as well not that there were any new ones to try it out on yet. It was a big world though and he hadn’t yet explored most of it.

His mind made up he headed back for Hell. He’d get his report in, take a look at what God had created, see what Eve got up to, and maybe, if he was lucky, see more of Aziraphale if he was ever free to explore.

[fleamarketloveletters]

February 8, 1942.

Dear Sweetheart,

Good morning good looking, how are you this nice warm bright sunny day? It is as beautiful as it can be here, sitting on my cot with the sun beaming in thru our barracks door. I’m wondering if its as pleasant up there. I suppose you are wearing your “snuggies” and “Doctor Dayton” pajamas, you know those one piece red flannel type. Here, here, what did I write!!? Oh well, I always believe in saying what I’m thinking but sometimes you can’t.

We have the morn. Off for church or errands to the PX (Post Exchange). It’s our first breathing spell since we’ve been here. We’re all razzing a bunch of newly arrived recruits who are being given there first taste of cursing and drilling by there Corporal the D.I. (Drill Instructor). No kidding the Corp and everybody down here can’t open there mouth to a “boot” unless its the longest line of cursing you ever heard.

Remember me telling you that I would meet my friend from around the corner, Charles Sangley. Well you don’t see anybody you know at all because theres over 20,000 marines all over this large, island and each of us as long as we’re in “boot camp” can’t go any place except where designated. But yesterday marching to the mess hall I see + hear this marine all ducked out in dress outfit yell, “Hey Clarke” and run like _ _ _ _ _ _ over to me when I’m still in ranks. Who was it but Langley! I never felt so thrilled since I’ve been here. You don’t know what a homelike feeling came over me when I saw him. I could not let a smile or turn my head in ranks but I guess he got my flittery in my eyes to wait for me out side of mess. He did. Boy we did everything but kiss each other, we rolled and hit each other all over the deck. You see, most everybody leaves at the end of 30 days training for an other station and I thought that Charlie had left. But he is stationed with the Ballour Barrage Station here. I don’t feel so awfully lonesome now. It certainly was a boost.

We have a new D.I. as an assistant and he is tougher than tough. Here is an example. Yesterday we had to clean our mess kits and have them laid out on our cots just in the right uniform position, each fork and canteen facing just so and so many inches between each. So he came in and we immediately snapped to attention. Well that son of a so and so looked at each one and gave 10 out of 13 a kick with his foot and they went all over the deck. I was one of the 3 that must have had everything just 100%. But here is whats funny. All us fellows are very humorous in this but, and when I saw a little guy’s by the name of Le Mouse mess kit all over I couldn’t hold in the big laughter I was holding in any longer so I went “hawruffpled.” The miserable crab turned around and asked “Who did it?”. Well my face was red as a beet and I thought I wasn’t grinning but he yelled “What’s so blanky funny about this?” Well I was so scared when he yelled at me. I couldn’t have laughed at the funniest joke out. I said very seriously “Nothing Sir.” I thought I would get K.P. or the brig, but he saw I was bigger than he was. Haw-haw!!

It doesn’t pay to try to keep anything in one piece down here. During the skirmishes yesterday I fell down on the deck so blame hard I smashed my wrist watch all to the devil. Later during the same attack in creeping my bracelet bent in two halves and my bayonet broke off its belt holder just when the hand to hand fighting was to take place. Ah yes! For the life of a marine!! Sometimes I wonder!!

I hope to have some pictures for you soon as I just gave them to Charlie. They will be screams, I know if they come out.

Has anybody asked you out on a date yet kid? I’m wondering. I can’t tell anything about you yet having not received any mail yet.I might just as well be in jail. If I was in jail I would at least get mail. I like to know what they mean when the U.S.O. says the letters from home keep the morale of the boys up. I know most of us feel as tho we’ve been exiled. The ones that get mail only get one letter, and that came 3 days ago. Its tragic.

Do I miss those beautiful nights we spent together on dates and the long chats we would have parked outside your lovely home. Wouldn’t the time fly when we would sit there? Your soft face and hair against mine, oh! Yes those beautiful shaped lips and their touch. I can’t wait to feel them again someday your little wise and cute innocent sayings such as; -- “Was I ever cold or scared.” That form fitting bay colored dress -- the most beautiful eyes in the world and the most easy going disposition. Every millionth of a second I ever was with you certainly was the best time in my life. I’ll do everything while I’m here darling, so that  it will be for you and I in the future. I’ll work and take orders like a slave so that I’ll get ahead for you. I hope you believe me. It comes from the deepest roots of my heart. This sounds rather funny to you coming from a tough marine. I guess but nobody in this world can change a fellows love for his little girl.

I sent only a postcard yesterday because I was sick in bed still from the fever and a sore throat, but I feel excellent today.

As I wrote in the corner of the card, we leave for “destination unknown” March 3/42. We go to the range the 15th next week and return the 28th. I don’t lnow if they will tell me about my aviation test before the rest of the platoon goes or not. If I passed I most likely won’t be sent to “destination unknown” but to some flying station. I hope I have passed. Ever since I joined they keep you in suspense in everything.

Right now the boys have mostly finished their letters and have started a tin alley band with the pails, mess kits, and rifle slings. They slap the rifle slings like they were bass fiddles. What a bunch of nit wits I’m as bad also. They can’t understand how I can write so much. Most of them write only 3 pages at the most.

Do you see Eleanor and Larry at all? Tell me how everybody is and what they are doing.

Pvt. Vlosky and myself are the only engaged marines in our platoon. He comes from New Haven and is a swell fellow. We both lay awake night long after everybody is asleep and bring up pleasant memories about our sweethearts. We talk by the hour about you. We were singing, from “Taps Hill Reveille”. Boy those words certainly mean a lot to us fellows. We get kidded a lot but they just don’t understand what true love is. The rest have girls but that’s all none serious tho. And that makes a big difference.

Is the “Big Boy” as full as it used to be in the mornings? Is Bill in the army? How’s “lacey britches” Connors? And “Fast Stuff” Wells?

What do you think? Just this instant the mail came!! My first. We all went nuts. I received the one you sent Feb. 6, two days ago. Boy I’m a changed man! I’ve already it 5 times already. Its swell. Please forget my remarks in previous letters about not sending mail. Oh boy I’ve changed to the happiest marine here. Write often darling!! I will. Hope you have gotten all mine. I will eventually get yours too. What date did you get my first letter. I wrote one or two every night since I’ve been here. Did you get the pillow?

O.K. Henry! I’l ltake care of his little wagon! I can sleep in peace tonight after the letter.

Mac also sent one. He’s a pip! I guess from now on it will be regular.

I love you. I love you and miss you. Will write answer to your letter I received today, tonight.

So long my darling, Love,

Jack

P.S. Temp about 72 no snow

The fellows say now that they hope “I’ll shut up now” seeing I got mail. Ha ha.a