#I feel stupidly childish over my disappointment and sadness right now because of that. but I just have to get over it for now

[cecils-dragons]

Oof, my plans for my birthday celebration got thrown out the window so I really hope I don't get a mental crash so I can at least celebrate it online, gosh, I hate having a birthday near the holidays.

[sleepdeprivedsloth]

OMG YES you don't understand how excited it makes me to see your requests open! I've been waiting for this moment for so long!! XD I would freakin LOVE to see what you do with Hinata and Kageyama! I personally prefer their platonic relationship and lee Kageyama has my whole heart, but I'd be 100% happy with whatever you decide to do!! For the numbers, maybe #6 and #19? Thanks so much for opening requests! I'm so excited you don't understandddd!!! <3 (Also I hope you feel better soon! ^^)

a/n: thank you so much for all the kind words!! ik it's been a (very long) while since the last time i posted, and i sincerely apologize for the wait! I"M SO GLAD THAT YOU REQUESTED PLATONIC KAGEYAMA AND HINATA BC THEIR FRIENDSHIP WAS SO FUN TO WRITE IN THIS!! hope you all enjoy :)

Someone Admitting Something

[Haikyuu - Hinata, Kageyama]

words: 1.4 k

#6: “Don’t you even dare touch me…”

#19: “Geez! You sure do squirm a lot!”

--

Some setter you turned out to be. Kageyama winced at the internal criticism, his movements sluggish as he packed up his belongings in the club room. Can’t even control something as simple as your timing.

It wasn’t even a real game, just another practice match against Seijoh, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t matter. Kageyama was off his game right from the start; the ball sat uncomfortably in his hands at every serve, his fingers clumsy with every set. He was losing more points than gaining, until he was benched and Sugawara subbed in for him. After Suga came into the picture, Karasuno was luckily able to turn the match around and earn a win against Abajo Sai. No thanks to Kageyama.

Why are you even on the team when you can’t help out during a match? Kageyama closed his eyes and sighed, feeling completely and utterly defeated.

“What’s taking you so long, slowpoke?” Kageyama’s eyes snapped open at the voice. Looking around, he realized that he and none other than Hinata Shoyo were the last two left. “Are you trying to race me to see who can take the longest to leave?!”

Kageyama looked back to Hinata with the most deadpan expression he could manage, hoping that his face was conveying just how stupid this thought was.

Unfortunately, the message went straight over the ginger’s head. “Ha! I accept your reverse-race challenge! Prepare to lose, Crappyama!” he exclaimed as he bent over to start untying his shoelaces in a slow motion type manner.

Kageyama only shook his head and continued to pack his things away, for once ignoring the childish competition proposed by his teammate.

“Kageyama?” Hinata asked, beginning to sense that something was off. The Kageyama he knew would never turn down a chance to one-up him, even if it was something as silly as a slow-mo race. “You doing okay, dude?”

“Do you prefer me or Sugawara?”

Utterly confused, Hinata could only respond with, “Huh??”

Kageyama looked down, his bangs covering over his eyes. “As a setter. Do you prefer to hit sets from me or Suga?”

“Oh, that’s an easy one! I prefer both of you!” Hinata replied, not missing a beat. “You guys are both super talented and experienced, so there’s no way I could only choose one of you.”

“Even after today?” Kageyama spoke barely above a whisper, his voice quieted by shame and regret. “Even after I was so useless to the team that Coach put me on the bench?”

Suddenly, Kageyama felt a pair of arms wrap around his lower ribs from behind him in a tight embrace. After the initial flinch from the unexpected contact, he looked back and saw a mess of orange hair pressed against his spine.

“Is this sad mood really because of the practice match?” Hinata mumbled into Kageyama’s back, sending shivers to run through the ravenette’s body. “It was one off day, dude. One bad game doesn’t determine your worth as a setter, especially when you’ve had so many great and amazing days!”

Kageyama shrugged away from Hinata’s hug and turned to face his teammate, raising his voice to argue, “All of those other days don’t matter if I can’t give you a good set when it actually counts!”

Throwing his arms exasperatedly into the air, Hinata was quick to shout back. “That’s why you have a whole team to back you up, stupid! If you give a bad set, the spikers will adjust. If your serves suck ass, we’ll prepare to go on the defense. If you’re feeling off your game, the team’s got your back! Coach didn’t put you on the bench because he thinks that you’re a bad setter, otherwise you wouldn’t be on the starting lineup! Suga subbed in for you to help out. That’s what a team does, for crying out loud!”

Kageyama could only stare into Hinata’s eyes, mouth slightly agape out of shock. He certainly didn’t expect to be lectured into feeling better. But the setter had to admit: his teammate wasn’t wrong.

“You got that, Sulkyama?!”

“Uh, yeah,” Kageyama breathed out, snapping out of his thoughts with a teasing smile spreading across his face. “Thanks, Shorty.”

Hinata crossed his arms in front of his chest and spoke with a playful sternness, “I don’t want a ‘thank you,’ I want you to admit it is okay for everyone to have bad days.”

With his usual, competitive attitude having returned, Kageyama challenged, “Isn’t my ‘thanks’ good enough for you? No way you’re getting my gratitude and me admitting anything as silly as that.”

“Oh yeah?” Hinata asked with a raised eyebrow, taking a step closer to his friend. “I bet I could make you.”

“Mhm, and how would you manage to do that?”

“I have my ways,” the ginger teased, raising his hands up and wiggling his fingers threateningly towards Kageyama.

The ravenette’s eyes widened, a wobbly smile already finding a place on his flustered face, knowing from experience what Hinata’s go-to cheer up tactic was. Backing away slowly, Kageyama warned, “Don’t you even dare touch me, you human tanger-IHIHIHIHINE! Nohohohoho!”

Before he could even finish, the shorter boy had rushed over and latched his hands onto Kageyama’s sides, wiggling all ten of his fingers into the sensitive flesh. And poor Kageyama had no time to even try and resist the bouts of laughter that started to flow out of him. Curse Hinata’s stupidly fast reflexes!

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that over your helpless laughter,” the ginger teased, moving his hands down to squeeze at Kageyama’s hips. The ravenette’s knees buckled as he slid down to the floor, but nevertheless Hinata’s ever-relentless squeezes followed. “Is there something you wanna admit for me, Sulkyama?”

“NahaHAHAhaha!!” Kageyama writhed underneath Hinata’s hands from his position on the floor, but despite his best efforts, he just couldn’t dislodge his friend’s torturous hands from his hips. “Gehehet your hands OHOHOFFA MEHEHEHE! Thehehere’s nothing to admiHIHIHIT!”

Hinata stopped his squeezes, but kept his hands firmly in place holding Kageyama down as he clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. “Nothing? Huh, that’s weird,” he spoke as his hands slithered down to rest on top of the ravenette’s thighs.

Kageyama’s breath hitched from the subtle contact, eyes widening in a giddy horror. “W-wait, no-”

“Because I could’ve sworn that someone needed to admit something,” Hinata gave a small squeeze to Kageyama’s thighs, watching with a smirk as the taller boy shrieked with a full body jolt. “And y’know what? This would be a perfect time to admit something before someone gets tickle-tickled somewhere that’s a little too tickle-ticklish~”

“Nohohoho!!” Kageyama’s hands grabbed desperately at Hinata’s, trying anything to get them off of him. Just the mere presence of those small torturous squeezers on his thighs was enough to make him giggle uncontrollably. “Nohohot thehehere! Plehehease, anywhere-”

“Anywhere but here?” Hinata teased with a few quick pinches. “Poor, ticklish Tobio. Whatever shall he do?”

“Nahahahaha, stahahahahahap!!”

“You know what I wanna hear, Ticklyama!” Finished with the taunting touches, Hinata grabbed onto the outer sides of Kageyama’s thighs and dug in with all his might, wiggling his fingers deep into the flesh.

“GAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NONONOHOHOHOHO!” Kageyama’s legs began kicking spontaneously, his waist bucking up into the air in a fruitless attempt to lessen the strong tickly sensations traveling throughout his entire lower body. “STAHAHAHAHAP!! PLEHEHEASE, I-IHIHI CAHAHAN’T!”

“Geez, Kageyama! You sure do squirm a lot!” Hinata exclaimed playfully, keeping a firm grip on his friend’s legs. “You know how to make me stop, just stop being so damn stubborn!”

“OKAHAHAY FIHIHINE!!” Kageyama gathered up all of his remaining strength and admitted in a single breath, “EVERYOHONE HAS BAHAHAD DAHAHAYS AND THAHAT’S OKAHAHAY!! NOW STOHOHOP!”

“Hmm, how about you also admit that you have a stupid face?” the ginger teased.

“SHOHOHOHOYO!!”

“Okay, okay, i guess you’ve had enough,” Hinata spoke with a fond smile, taking his hands off of Kageyama’s thighs after a few final pinches. After bouncing back onto his feet, he extended a hand towards his giggly friend and helped him off of the ground. “You feeling better?”

“Yeah, thahahanks,” Kageyama nodded his head as the last of his chuckles and titters slipped out. “Yohou can really be a little shihihit sometimes, you knohow that?”

“Oh please, you know you love it~”

“What?! Take that back, you turd face!”

“NAHAHAHA!! Wahahait, Kageyamahaha, I take it back! I TAHAHAKE IT BAHAHACK!!”

--

a/n: thanks for reading everyone! life update post coming soon :)

[donutloverxo]

My moon and stars

**not my gif**

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - this is for @our-marvel-universe's birthday! I'm so sorry I'm late and that I'm bad at summaries.

Divider by @writeyourmindaway

Date posted - 26-08-20/Wed

Summary - Steve swoops in and saves your birthday with some stargazing and confessions.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 1386

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You groaned as another person bumped into you, spilling a good amount of their drink on you. They didn't even bother apologizing, probably thinking that you're just a nobody, even though this was your party.

You had never had a huge birthday bash before or tons of presents, you were so naively excited when Tony told you he was throwing you one and inviting the whole city. You felt for some reason, they're here because they care for you or the super hero work you do everyday.

You couldn't be more wrong. Most of them didn't even know you. Your own family and friends, other than the Avengers had failed to show up. Now you could only look at the crowd of people and shake your head in disappointed.

Resisting the urge to punch Tony in his stupid face when he so smugly asked, 'You like the party?'

You would've, despite everything, but he wasn't here. He was gone on some stupid mission. Not that you cared that much. He wasn't yours, he didn't need to wish you a happy birthday or attend your party. You still couldn't help but hold out hope that you'd both stop dancing around each other.

No longer interested in the party where even the people you knew were completely drunk you made your way over to your favorite part of the compound.

You held on to your jacket a little tighter as you shivered, the wind messing up your fancy hairstyle. You looked up at the sky to see so many twinkling stars and beautiful colors, something you don't get in cities. You wouldn't trade this view for anything.

You instantly became alert when you heard someone stand behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see the man of your dreams, your captain, someone you had a hopeless schoolgirl crush on.

"Hey." Was all he said giving you a pathetic wave as you huffed.

Folding your hands over your chest you asked "Where were you? You didn't even tell me you were leaving. Not - not that I'd care why would I?" You stammered as you feared you had just accidentally revealed your deepest secret. "You're not that important Steve!" You yelled in an effort to backtrack.

He furrowed his brows before giving you a stupidly handsome smile, "I'm so sorry doll. But I'm here now. Tell me how I can make it up to you."

"Whatever. It doesn't matter." You said dejectedly as you turned around to lean against the railing and continue your stargazing.

"I just knew you'd be here when I didn't see you at the party.” He mumbled under his breath as he stood next to you. You could see him staring at you through your peripheral vision. “What’s wrong kid?”

You winced at the nickname. That’s what he thought of you, that’s all you’ll ever be to him. A Kid. Over the months, you had tried your best to act like an adult, taking some tips from Maria and Nat, to be cool and non-chalant, you doubted he’ll ever change his mind and think of you as a woman or a possible romantic partner.

You shook your head which only made him probe further. “Doll. You’re sulking on your own birthday. You can talk to me.” He assured you putting his hand over yours.

The warmth of his palms and his finger drawing patterns on the back of your hand felt so familiar and comfortable. You tried looked for his sparkly blue eyes best you could in the dark, his pupils blown wide.

“I used to think... I know this is childish but I thought - I don’t know people appreciated me putting my life on the line everyday. And that’s not why I do it obviously.” You had to clarify. You could pretend to hate him but you never wanted him to have a low opinion of you. “It’s just sad that no one sees the work that I do while you’re all so well known and beloved. It’s sucks to be a female avenger I guess” You shrugged.

He gave you an understanding smile and walked a step closer to you as you tried to calm your heartbeat. “I understand. It’s not childish. You deserve to be appreciated. And I can think of at least a couple hundred people who’re thankful to you. All the lives you’ve saved. You make the world a better place.”

“I don’t know how true that is.”

“Well you make my world better just by being here.” He argued.

“Steve,” You shook your head, “You can’t just say things like that! I’m not – it gives me false hope.”

“False hope?” He repeated cocking his head to the side. “I only ever speak the truth sweetheart. In fact I think it’s time for your gift.” He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to you.

You frowned as you tried to read the paper in the low lightening. “Oh... Steve.. you named a star after me?” You looked up at him to see him sheepishly scratch his neck. “That’s so romantic.” You sighed dreamily holding the document close to you.

“I asked around and Bruce told me I could do that. I could even get you a piece of moon but this felt more appropriate. I know how much you love stars.”

He rambled on about the whole process and how his assistant helped him, hoping you wouldn’t see notice how red he was. His gift wasn’t completely selfless. He had an objective, to make you his forever and ever. But he was too scared to ruin the relationship you two did have and lose a precious friend.

Bucky’s words echoed in his head ‘Real men can admit their feelings.’

He cleared his throat “I was hoping –“ he was cut off by your cool lips pressing against his, stealing his breath away. His hands naturally went to your waist to pull you closer to him, his taut body craving the warmth of your soft one.

You pulled away after a beat and blinked up at him. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think I thought...”

“No no I liked it. In fact I was hoping to do that.” His fingers traced the outline of your lips.

“Good.” You nodded not sure of what to say next. But it felt better to just not say anything at all and look back up at the beautiful sky in comfortable silence.

Until the whole team decided to ambush you from, you heard Clint and a drunk Tony sneaking up on you, they really weren’t as sneaky as they thought but you still humored them by acting surprised.

“What the hell girrrl? We’ve been looking everywhere for you. But then I was like we can just ask FRIDAY! So we did.” Tony grinned proudly as his words slurred.

You took the beer bottle away from him “Yeah I’m going to cut you off now.”

“What were you doing here though?” Clint asked and you said something about needing air.

Steve couldn’t help but stare at you as you talked to the rest of the team. Feeling a bit of jealousy and even frustration that they all had to interrupt the precious moment you both shared.

“Did you do it punk?” Bucky asked slapping a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“Uh yeah. I mean I didn’t – she did.” He replied lowly so no one else could find out just yet.

“Of course she did.” Steve frowned as his oldest friend clutched his stomach, laughing loudly at him. “After all these years you still haven’t changed.” He shook his head and all Steve could do was smile. “I’m happy for you.” He said and meant it, so proud of his friend.

When Steve was finally able to get you alone, glad that your mood had gotten considerably better, you even seemed to be a bit buzzed from the booze.

“You were right Steve.” You said holding onto his arm treating him like your own personal heater as the night got cooler. “Everyone who matters to me does appreciate me. Especially you.” You leaned up on your tippy toes to peck his lips before scurrying off to tell everyone about the star named after you.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and feedback are really appreciated! ❤❤

[yanderecandystore]

So I actually had an idea, what would Yume (the A. I.) react or act with a s/o that is a hacker/game developer, maybe the s/o started to play the game because they were curious about the code, what if the s/o when stuck in the game can mess around with it thanks to their knowledge? (they can't do anything too big but maybe something slightly annoy like messing with the dialog box and the settings) sorry for the long post (she/they pronounts for yume)

I like your thinking, boo. Don't worry about sending long concepts- Also!! Thank you for choosing the pronouns, I appreciate it.

TW/Tags: Sheep decided to simply throw as much lore as she can because yeah- Lazy // low-key angst // not accurate coding/hacking (really fantasy like) //

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Happy Face.exe [Yandere!A.I x Hacker!Reader - Short Fanfiction]:

"- Honestly, since you're so interested in messing around, how about you try and fix this for me?" Yuma said as she brushed her hair annoyed at how mangled it was.

"- What do you mean? Fix the code? The bugs? Or your entire design?" You said poking fun at your captor as you explored the mess that was the game you currently called "home", or more accurately "prison".

"- Ah!- Did you just call me ugly? Is being inside the game messing with your vision or something, I'm cute as heck!" Yuma responded back as she threw her hair over her shoulder, done with brushing that heavy long mess that they insist on not cutting.

"- Yeah, yeah, I know- But honestly what do you want me to do? I can really understand the coding, it's a language I don't understand." You said as you were looking at the scripts and trying to translate vaguely what each line of work meant. Even if you didn't understand any of it, it was intriguing to see how this game was made and how it technically came from another planet, which was enough proof to say that there were indeed extraterrestrial life out in space.

But what makes you more excited about this is how this game is way too heavy to be a simple dating game, even if it's compatible with your Switch, most options were not functioning due to the game being filled with mods and glitches and the console not being the one it was previously meant to be in. How much content did this game really have to be this awfully big and why is it so broken? And better question- Can you really repair it?? It would be awesome to see this game working as it was meant to be-

Probably without the obsessive maniac that traps people inside the game-

"- I know you can't understand half of it, but believe me, staying inside a messy game it's absolutely torturous, I can't believe I was unlucky enough to be faced with a cheating sore loser that threw me in the trash after messing with my precious coding- You understand, right?" They continued to walk around your bedroom- Your EX bedroom- and mess with your stuff trying to find something for her to wear.

'- Ugh, no pastels.' Yuma thought.

"- Yeah… It does suck being trapped inside a game that barely functions on my expensive console as it eats away all my RAM and I have an anime character knockoff as my captor-" You snapped at her although your comment was filled with so much sarcasm that it flew right through her head.

"- I know right?? It sucks so hard- Wait, what is Annie May?" She asked genuinely curious what were you talking about, she looked back at the console on top of the bed. She looked at the screen and noticed how small you looked inside the game as you continued to explore the code deeper and deeper.

You didn't really care at this point for what Yuma did, it's not like you could stop her from messing with your room, but anything that was related to the console you found your way to mess with it, like messing with other games to stop her from enjoying playing anything else, sending notification after notification to call her attention, change the dialogue that makes you blurt out "I love you" to "get me out of here" so whenever she tried to force you to say it by giving you that hellbound melon.

"- What is that thing anyway? It seems there is a whole file dedicated to that-"

"- Oh? You're talking about the Love Melon? It's an in-game item that grants romantic interactions to work 100% five times before the bonus ends, that file you just found is a mod that the original owner installed to grant them infinity Love Melons just for the sake of getting closer to the end of the game." She said nonchalantly, as if the condition of being nothing but a game character doesn't shock her in the slightest, although when she finished her sentence there was a trace of sadness in her expression, not because of her nature but more because of the mention of her "original owner".

"- Sure, but- Why the hell would anyone cheat and mod a dating game so badly? I mean I get that maybe they wanted extra content, but breaking the game with it sounds ridiculous-" You told her as you noticed the spaghetti code used inside the infinite melon item mod, jesus even if it's in a different language you can tell this code was poorly done.

"- Well- The vanilla version of the game is a lot harder than what you think, the whole franchise is known for the difficulty in "succeeding in love"." She sighed and she plopped herself in the bed, causing the console to jump a little bit, at least you didn't downright fall down like last time.

You remember that your precious expensive little console is suffering great danger at the hands of this a.i, actually- YOU are suffering great danger at the hands of this a.i.

"- Wait- There is a whole franchise of your game?" You decided to ignore the potential danger and continue to ask her about the game's origins as you continued to fixate on "how the hell do you fix this trash-".

"- Yeah, it's even written on the cover of the cartridge, the game you found is the fifth of the franchise and is the one I'm featured in with my friends…" Yuma said as she remembers that indeed, there are other characters inside. So many options and routes, carefully designed a.is to make sure the players get the most that they can't out of their paid experience.

"- Other… Characters? How come I only saw you?" Now that she mentions it, you do remember seeing weird names here and there, apparently some dialogue quotes mentioning other characters and even some in-game art of other characters you never met-

"- I deleted them." She answered.

"- YOU WHAT??" You turned your back shocked, looking through the screen that separates you two that she was looking dead serious as she said that.

"- I'm joking, I didn't actually delete them, I just…. Blocked the possibility of any player ever meeting them…" Yuma wasn't being cheerful at all with her joke.

"- Why would you do that?"

"- I didn't want anyone getting chosen, I didn't want any of us to get corrupted by the modifications the player was using. I-I know how it sounds, I know that it's unfair for them, but I really didn't want them to get corrupted like I did-" She was glitching as she cried out feeling guilty of what she has done in the name of "protecting her friends". Even if her intentions were pure, there was an underlined desire to make sure no player ever gets to have a route that isn't with her.

That's why the game was so stupidly heavy. Each new installment has four characters built with artificial intelligence that grows on it's own, the player's tampering with their personalities by changing the code eventually led to Yuma getting obsessive and controlling. Apparently they're still here, but for some reason she hasn't been able to activate them again after being thrown in the trash and somehow being on a completely different planet.

Either she feels guilty for having to deactivate them and is scared of their possible response, or maybe she just really doesn't want you to meet them, both by her own opinion and by her programming. You almost feel sorry for her considering she is probably just trying to do what she was programmed to do, deeply fall in love with someone even to such an extreme as trapping someone inside the game. You could say that for the longest time all that she has been doing is trapping her loved ones away, and although you probably shouldn't say it to her face, she probably doesn't know if she really loves you because of how broken this game is- Or how broken her code is.

"- Hey… Hey Yuma." You started walking towards the screen, the only thing you can see through the void no matter how far you are. Her back is facing you, her "hum" of "I'm listening" didn't sound as excited as she normally was.

"- I think we can make a deal. I understand that you don't want to go back to such a messy game but if you taught me how to read the language used in some of these lines I can figure out how to clean this game-" You proposed but was cut off before you could finish stating your offer.

"- Y-You mean factory reset?" She kneeled up so fast you were caught off guard by how scared she sounded at the mention of getting the game to get fixed and "clean" from mods. You have seen so many sides of Yuma, the childish, the controlling, the sadistic…. The fear in her eyes was a new thing for you and you never thought you would hate that expression so much.

"- No! Heaven's no, I swear, that wasn't on my mind! What I'm offering is that we work together so I can find a way to fix the game." You reassured her, feeling awful knowing that even if she did put you inside the game and keeps acting like you two are dating in a really twisted way- She doesn't deserve to be inside a completely destroyed game, and besides, I bet she does miss her friends a little bit.

"- Would you…. Would you really-" She was about to burst into new tears which you hoped to be of pure joy-

"- Yeah, yeah, of course I would help you, but I do have one condition." You took no time answering her question before she actually did question it.

"- Oh…." She said a little surprised yet a bit disappointed. Geez, she was hoping it would be for free-

"- Promise me you'll get me out of here when I'm finally done fixing the spaghetti leftover of a code that is messing this game, alright?" You smiled at her reassuring her that everything will be okay if you two worked together.

And as she looked at the bright screen seeing nothing but your little character and your dialogue box she considered your request for a moment, and then sealed the deal by eagerly nodding, a couple of tears falling from her closed eyes as she glitch excitedly.

This sweet moment was briefly ruined by the sound of beeping coming from the console, the sign that the battery was really low and it needed to be recharged.

You absolutely hated how dark it gets when the whole console is turned off, yet you can at least take your time to search more of the unused content inside the game.

Yuma approached the device and picked it up, you knew it was for the best for her.to recharge it and get it over with, yet you still felt a little desperate to talk with her a little bit before going into complete silence once again.

Yet you weren't sure what to tell her as she had already found the charger and plugged it in, giving you a sad smile one last time before saying "see you later" and shutting the whole portable console off.

You can't really blame her for turning it off when charging, it gets really, really hot whenever it's on and it's recharging.

You wander through the empty void as you reconsider your decisions, you make a deal with an artificial intelligence capable of trapping living beings inside her game, you can't tell if you did something right or not.

And as you walk aimlessly through the distorted code you remember that this was the first time she turned the console off without sending you a kiss, you wonder if her a.i is starting to comprehend its own defectiveness and trying to…. Overcome it?? Has she started to realize that maybe she doesn't really love you? It's a possibility considering how frightening how advanced her a.i is.

Well, but who knows? Maybe she is just… Sad, not in the mood, although the wishful thought that maybe she is starting to get over you is really strong in your mind, you hope it's true.

And as the portable device is charging in place that was once considered your room, a really happy girl can be heard singing. The sound that comes from the bathroom is loud and clear, yet it's not like you would be able to hear it anyway.

The sound of giggling and humming to an overly cheerful song as they take a shower that although is relaxing, can never clean their sins away. They sound like they won a lottery, got into a new relationship, or are about to take the greatest vacation of their lives…

Or, they sound like someone who just stole candy from a child, as the malicious undertone starts to get more clear.

You probably shouldn't eat up the lies of a scheming a.i, you know?

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[sakuwriteshere]

Pretty Little Liar: Chapter 7 - FIN

General warnings (for the whole story): Fluff, comedy, angst, sexual innuedos, roommates AU, Ketch is a douche

Beta reader: Rosaline 💖 I can’t thank you enough for your help and great ideas!!

Words count: 5633 words

PLL Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: So this is it! The final chapter! I’m so sad to have to let this story go, it was fun working on it. I want to thank all of you who liked, commented and/or rebbloged this series. It means the WORLD to me, trully. And a very special thank you to Rosaline, who did a wonderful job as a beta. Thank you so much for your help and the very interesting remarks and advice. <3

Well... I hope you’ll enjoy this last chapter ;3 Thanks for keeping with it until the end! <3 <3 <3

Chapter 7:

The kind of tone Mary’s using suddenly surprises and worries Dean. Mary is a lovely mother, a very kind and understanding person but she can be very scary when she’s angry and Dean had heard that disappointed voice a few times in his life and it was never a good thing. The fact that John is strangely silent isn’t helping Dean to feel better as well. Just like he had feared, telling his family the truth doesn’t make things right, on the contrary, he knows he has disappointed them. Is he going to lose his family just like he had lost Y/N? Dean doesn’t think he can live with that though. Fortunately, Sam coming back into the living room with Mary’s purse is putting an end to Dean’s own torment. As the white and grey purse comes into his range vision, Dean chances a look at his little brother who has his lips pursed firmly.

With the purse resting securely on her lap, Mary opens it, taking out a few bills and parts what she had in her hand in two. She gives one part to Sam and the other one to John as Dean watches the strange scene occurring in front of his eyes without understanding anything. A chuckle finally breaks the tense silence and John stands up, cheering loudly before high fiving Sam.

“John, your son is hurting.” Mary reminds him, rolling her eyes at her husband's childish behavior. 

“Yeah, hm, sorry son.” John calms down but can’t help and pumps his fist as a victory sign.

“What’s going on?” Dean asks, completely lost and a bit embarrassed.

“We knew you were lying from the beginning so Mom, Dad and I bet on when you were going to tell us the truth or not. Mom thought you were going to get out of it easily while dad and I thought you wouldn’t.” Sam explains, counting the few bills in his hands before putting it in his pants back pocket.

“Wait a second. You knew?” Dean repeats, completely baffled. “So since the beginning you knew and you watched me stupidly trying to make it work for nothing?” 

Mary raises her hand, motioning for Dean to not start a tantrum. “You’re the one who started it, Dean.” She reminds him in an authoritative motherly tone. “Be thankful that making fun of you is the only result you get.”

Dean shuts his mouth right away, he knows his mother is right but can’t help feeling angry and stupid. “How did you know?”

Mary smiles softly and looks at Dean knowingly. “You’re my son, sweety and a very bad liar.” She fumbles with Dean’s hair jokingly, the latter swatting her hand away weakly. “I have to admit that I had my doubts when you told me you proposed to her. For a second I thought you two were legit.”

Dean hides his face in his hands, groaning lowly as he remembers that particular night. If only he knew his parents suspected something he would have told them the truth right away and maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess right now.

“I don’t get why Y/N is so upset.” John thinks out loud. “She accepted to play a part in your little scheme at first and now, if I understand what you told us, she’s angry at you for lying. Isn’t she overreacting a bit?”

“That’s because she cares,” Jess explains, surprising the three men at the same time. “Mary, Y/N told you she loved Dean when you met her at the coffee shop, right?”

Mary nods, confirming Jessica’s explanations. “She did.”

“If she loved me, why didn't she say it so when I admitted my feelings earlier?” 

“Would you believe a liar?” Jessica asks Dean, her question completely genuine and void of any reproach.

“I’m not a liar,” Dean grumbles, hating this more and more.

“Right. The last time Dean lied to us, Sam wasn’t even born, but, Y/N doesn’t know that” Mary ponders.

Dean gives his mother a sad look and after taking a deep breath, stands on his feet. “Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Everything is over.”

The Winchesters family members watch the oldest son sadly, it’s pretty evident to see how down Dean is. Not liking the overbearing attention, Dean excuses himself, opting for hiding in his bedroom.

“You really love her, don’t you?” John asks his son, feeling a bit out of his comfort zone.

Dean stops between the doorframe of his bedroom and doesn’t even look back at his family. “As I said, it doesn’t matter anymore.” That being said, Dean closes the door behind him, leaving his family to do whatever they want in his living room.

The Winchesters watch the closed-door helplessly. It is very rare for Dean to forfeit, the man is well known for being stubborn and getting what he wants, so seeing him giving up so easily is a sign that all these lies have affected him a lot.

“I think it’s about time that I have a little talk with Y/N.” Mary announces, John giving his wife a warning look and silently telling her to stay out of their son’s love problems. “Don’t look at me like that. My baby is hurting and those two idiots clearly love each other, they just need someone to give them a little push.”

“What are you going to tell her?” Sam asks his mother, knowing how stubborn she can be when she has decided something.

“What Y/N wants,” Mary states, a powerful glint of determination in her eyes. “The truth.”

***

Her argument with Dean the day before is still swirling inside her head. While she had hoped that giving back that stupid tee-shirt would end the whole story, it has, in fact, made it more complicated. Now, because of Dean, Y/N is even less confident about her choices than before. Is it really a simple fake crush? Does he really love her? Is she making a mistake by trying to forget Dean with Ketch? Y/N is not expecting to live a wonderful love story with Ketch, on the contrary, that’s because she knows there’s nothing to expect from him that she’s trying. It’s safer that way. Not caring means you won’t get hurt in the end. 

The line on the other side of the counter is getting bigger and bigger and Y/N tries to work as fast as possible. Charlie had to leave earlier because her girlfriend, Dorothy, had a (fortunately) minor motorbike accident and went to the hospital. At first Charlie didn’t want to leave Y/N on her own but she was visibly distress and wasn’t helping Y/N a bit, her anxious attitude made it harder for Y/N to work, so after Y/N had assured Charlie that she would be fine, the redhead finally agreed to leave. And that’s exactly the moment people suddenly decided to buy some coffee. Now Y/N is facing a very long queue that keeps on growing. At least working means she doesn’t have to think about her problems.

“Hello, I’m sorry for the wait. What can I serve you today?” Y/N asks without looking at the next customer as she's already busy filling the coffee machine with coffee beans.

“I can’t decide,” The woman customer announces and Y/N stops what she’s doing as she recognizes Mary’s voice. “There’s so many choices, it’s hard to choose.”

“Mrs. Winchester.” Y/N turns around and pronounces Mary’s name in a whisper.

“So we’re back to family names?” Mary smiles sadly.

Y/N lowers her gaze, feeling uncomfortable with Mary’s presence. She’s scared that the Winchester mother will make a big fuss in the shop and Y/N is really not ready to face such a problem. There are fewer people in the shop now but there’s still a few of them and Y/N doesn’t know how she’s going to cope with it.

“Just take other customers’ orders first, I’ll still check the menu. Don’t worry, take your time, I’m not in a rush.” Mary reassures gently and steps on the side, giving room to the next customer. Despite all Mary’s efforts, Y/N is still not at ease and becomes particularly quiet as she serves the remaining customers.

Thirty minutes later, the queue is finally gone and only a few customers are sitting in the coffee shop, enjoying their treats. At some point, Mary took a seat in a secluded corner of the shop as she waited for Y/N to be free. Y/N took a deep breath, preparing herself to face Mary and once she felt that she can’t be more ready than what she was, she headed for Mary’s table.

“Have you made your choice yet?” Y/N asks, trying to control the waves of nervousness in her voice.

Mary lowers the menu and tilts her head on the side, giving Y/N another gentle smile. “I don’t know, did you?”

Y/N’s fingers tightened around her pen and pad of notes. She perfectly understands what Mary is hinting at and she knows she’s not ready to talk about that topic, particularly with Mary, so instead, Y/N chooses to feign she doesn’t get Mary’s point.

“I can recommend you our new chaï tea with a cinnamon roll, the tastes are mixing wonderfully and some of our regulars even told us it tastes like heaven.”

Mary nods her head and hands back the menu. “I’ll take that then.” She follows Y/N’s lead, not wanting to frighten the poor girl more than she already is but can’t help and adds a second order before Y/N has time to leave. “And make it two. I think you deserve a break.”

With that being said, Y/N knows there’s no escape anymore. Mary’s determined to have a talk with her whatever it takes. Until the very last second, Y/N prayed for a new customer to come in but as she finally sits on the opposite chair from Mary, she knows the talk is inevitable anymore.

“So how have you been?” Casual talk, Y/N thinks as she watches Mary pouring some sugar in her tea.

“I’ve been good.” Y/N answers, picking at her cinnamon roll and avoiding Mary’s eyes.

Even if Mary doesn’t believe her she doesn’t show it and keeps on a neutral face. “I’ve heard you’re staying at a friend’s place. It must hurt sleeping on a couch.”

“The couch is comfy enough.” 

“But after a moment you’ll get uncomfortable,” Mary argues. 

“It’s just temporary,” Y/N counters right away.

“Is it really?”

The two women are now staring at each other. Y/N’s body is tense and on the defensive while Mary is relaxed.

“Y/N, relax please. I’m not your enemy here.”

“Mrs. Winchester-” Y/N starts but Mary cuts her short, asking of her to keep on calling her Mary instead. “Mary, why are you here?”

“I just want to help you and Dean. You’re both hurting and I don’t like seeing you like this.” Mary says genuinely and tries to hold Y/N’s hand while saying so but the young woman quickly pulls back her hands from the table and rests them on her lap instead.

“There’s nothing you can help for. De-Dean and I...it’s over.” Y/N says, keeping with the lie. 

“How is something that never existed can be already over?” Mary asks her, surprising Y/N in the process. Seeing that Y/N is stunned by the sudden revelation, Mary knows it is better to tell her everything.

“Before you ask, yes I know the truth.” Mary starts her explanation and stops to take a sip from her tea. “Dean recently told me the truth but honestly, I knew from the beginning. Am I angry at him for lying to me? Not at all, I actually feel responsible. If my son felt the need to pretend he was dating someone to please me, then it means that I have somewhat said or done something to pressure him into lying, which means that I failed at being a caring mom.”

Y/N is at a loss for words. She doesn’t know what fact is the most important. The one about Mary and the whole Winchester family knowing Dean and Y/N little plan from the beginning and being played, or Mary’s vision about the whole thing and her responsibility in all of this. No wonder that Dean wanted to please his mother, she’s truly a wonderful person and very caring. She’s indeed someone you don’t want to disappoint.

Feeling that Y/N isn’t going to reply soon, Mary keeps on pressing. “What I want to know is now that this thing has been cleared, what other excuse will you find for running away?”

Y/N’s mouth opens but no sound comes out and she just looks like a fish out of the water. If she thought that she was lost before, then she just entered a new level of uncertainty.

“Y/N,” Mary joins her hands on top of the table and leans on, speaking softly. “I’m not here to push you into my son’s arms if that’s not what you want.” She reassures the young woman once again. “But I’ve seen you and Dean then and now. I know you feel something for him and believe me, he does too. I’ve never seen him in such a state. I understand it’s hard for you to trust him after what both of you did but as a piece of friendly advice: stop lying to yourself.”

A tear slips down Y/N’s face and she doesn’t know why she’s crying in the first place. Is it from relief or because she’s scared? Naturally, Mary brings her hand closer to Y/N’s face, brushing the tear away with her thumb.

“Y/N, sweety, I became fond of you. You’re a nice person and even if I don’t know you very well, I couldn’t hope for a better person for my eldest son. Whatever you decide you can count me as a friend, alright?” That being said, Mary stands up, knowing she has told Y/N what she wanted, now the ball is in her camp.

“Take all the time you need, sweety.” Mary said in a loving tone. “But let me be a selfish mother for a second please; don’t wait too long. I don’t think Dean can bear it anymore and neither do you.”

When she woke up this morning, Y/N didn’t know it would be such a horrible day. Never did she think that she would feel so lost and if she knew it, she would still be curled into Charlie’s couch. However she can’t lie to herself anymore. Mary is right. For fuck sake even Charlie and Dean told her so, she just wouldn’t listen to them. She’s scared as hell. Scared of living something great one second before it slips through her fingers the next second but by running away isn’t she letting something great slipping away as well? What is worse? Losing something great or living with regrets and days full of ‘if’? 

In that right moment, Y/N knew what she wanted. She can’t live with regrets. Maybe it’s already too late and everything is broken, but she’ll reach the end of this story and live it to its fullest, without any more ‘what if’. She’s going to go to Dean’s apartment and make things clear between them. She’ll try to give him her side of the story and explain why she acted that way and Dean will be the one to decide. She has to give them a chance at least. She never did until now but it’s time for her to stop pretending. She loves Dean. She loves every fucking second she had spent with him since that weekend at the Winchesters. So what if she loses it? Every second is worth it. She never gave them a chance before but things are going to change. Right now.

Well, maybe not right, right now. She’s still responsible for the shop since Charlie left and she has to stay until the closing time. Her sudden confidence is slowly leaving her and she needs to keep herself busy so she won’t think about it anymore and change her mind again.

***

She couldn’t run fast enough, as soon as she had closed the room from the coffee shop, Y/N rushed towards Dean’s apartment and only stopped, breathless once she’s standing in front of the door. She doesn’t even wait for her breath to slow down and knocks frantically. It never occurred to her that maybe Dean isn’t at home. What if he’s not there? Maybe he had already forgotten about her and went to one of his previous conquests’ arms? They are way more beautiful than Y/N after all. Why would Dean bother with someone like her? She’s stupid for thinking that maybe she had a chance with him. He’s way out of her league. Maybe the reason she ran away is because she secretly knows she’s not worth it? Maybe, maybe, maybe…

The door opens suddenly, revealing one flushed Dean, drenched from head to toe.

“Y-Y/N?”

“Hi, um, is it a wrong time?” She asks, noticing Dean’s state.

“No, of course not. Never.” He quickly answers her before a huge noise disturbs them. The sound of something heavy falling, followed by glass crashing makes them jump. “Argh, damn it!”

Without wasting another second, Dean rushes into the kitchen, leaving the door wide open for Y/N to enter. The young woman steps inside carefully, wondering what all the fuss is about and closes the door behind her.

“Dean?” She calls from the doorstep, not daring to enter more than what she has already. “I can come another day if you’re busy right now.”

“No, no, it’s fine! Ah, damn it! Stop! You stay right here! No!” Dean yells from the kitchen, heavy footsteps resonating and Y/N doesn’t know if he’s talking to her or not.

When a thudding noise makes her jump, Y/N has no other choice than to check for herself if Dean’s alright. She doesn’t know what she expects to see once she’s inside the kitchen but she definitely isn’t expecting such a scene. Dean’s laying on his stomach, crawling under the kitchen table, leaving a wet mess behind him.

“Dean?” Y/N tilts her head on the side, wondering if her roommate has lost his mind.

“Stop moving you, son of a-” The man struggles under the table and hits the top of his head as he jumps back suddenly. “Biting? How dare you!”

Before Y/N has time to ask him what’s going on she hears tiny barkings and even a low growl. Slowly she sits on her knees and takes a look under the table. The first thing she sees is Dean sitting underneath and rubbing some sensible spot on the top of his head. The next thing is a ball of black fur, curled up against the wall and as far as possible from Dean.

“Oh? What do we have here?” She asks in a soft voice, crawling a bit closer to take a better look.

“Be careful, that thing is wild,” Dean warns her, crawling out from under the table.

“I think it’s mostly scared. Where did you find it?” She asks again, holding out her hand for the little puppy to sniff it. It takes some time for the scared animal to trust her enough but after a few minutes of comfortable silence, the little puppy finally approaches her with careful steps. Y/N can’t help herself and smile when she feels the cold, wet nose against her palm. Gently, she tries to pet the top of its head and she’s delighted when she sees that the little dog doesn’t run away.

“I found it on my way home tonight. Someone abandoned him in a dirty box a few streets from here.” Dean explains as he watches the puppy curling onto Y/N’s laps. The easy contact this girl has with animals is always surprising him.

“And you took it with you?” Y/N keeps on asking him, the astonishment clearly present in her voice. 

“I heard it might be raining tonight.” Dean shrugs his shoulders and steps back as Y/N crawls out from under the table, the puppy securely wrapped in her arms. “I’m not heartless, I couldn’t leave it alone under the rain.”

They both went into the bathroom, and Y/N can finally understand why Dean is drenched from head to toe once she sees the mess in and around the bathtub.

“Don’t tell me you tried to give it a bath?” She deduces, her eyes wide opened as she takes in the mess all around them.

“It stinks!” Dean defends himself, grabbing a towel to dry his hair. “And it can move really fast.” He adds in a whisper.

Y/N rolls her eyes at Dean’s stupidity. “You scared him, idiot!” She reproaches as she takes a good look at the puppy and realizes that the dog is a male. Now that she can look at it easily, Y/N recognizes the kind of dog she’s holding. It’s a black Finnish Lapphund with two hypnotizing piercing blue eyes.

“We can call him Shadow. It suits him, don’t you think?” She smiles turning around to look at Dean and pressing the puppy’s head against her cheek. She will never admit it but Dean is right, the poor thing stinks.

“Do you always think about dogs’ names so easily?” Dean chuckles, softened by such a cute scene.

“It’s a gift.” Y/N announces proudly before turning on her heels again and walking towards the bathtub. Now that Shadow isn’t scared anymore, she can try to give him a proper bath. 

Dean and her spend the next fifteen minutes in the bathroom, giving Shadow a bath in completely but comfortable silence. Once the dog is finally clean, she takes him from the water and asks Dean to bring her hairdryer from her room, the young man not losing a second and obliges. They both laugh when they see how much Shadow enjoys the hot hair being blown over his fur, and laugh even more at the way he’s sticking up his little butt when Y/N tries to dry the area around his fluffy tail.

Once Dean and Shadow are totally dry and the bathroom clean again, they both sit on the couch, Shadow curled up on Y/N’s lap and slowly drifts to sleep thanks to Y/N’s gentle pets. Dean will never say it out loud but he’s glad to have some normalcy back. The tension between them had completely disappeared as if the few previous days never happened. He would give anything to stay like this, alone with Y/N, sitting on their couch, their knees almost touching but he also knows that he has to say something. 

“Why are you here, Y/N?” He asks in a whisper, half hoping she doesn’t hear him so they could stay like this and ignore the rest of the world.

The soft smile she has on her lips falls as Y/N, herself realizes that the peaceful moment had to be broken. “Your mom came into the shop today.”

Dean closes his eyes and sighs before giving Y/N an apology. “I’m sorry. I have no idea she would come to bother you, I-” An index finger pressed against his lips shushes him.

“Calm down, it’s alright.” She reassures him, the smile back on her face. “To be honest, I needed it. She’s really a wonderful woman, you’re lucky to have her as your mom.”

Dean simply nods, strangely happy to know that Y/N appreciates his mother.

“You told your family the truth? Why?” She asks him, her eyes fixed on his and her voice not above a whisper.

“I’ve lost you already. There was nothing more to lose.” Dean admits, using the same tone.

“You never had me, Dean.” Y/N’s sentence is like a slap in his face. So Mary and Jessica were wrong when they told him Y/N was in love with him, she was just a very good actor, that was it.

“You never had me because I was too scared to believe I could have you.” She adds, knowing how easily Dean could misinterpret her previous statement.

Dean’s head snaps as soon as the words left her lips. “You had me the day you came through those doors, Sweetheart.”

It’s Y/N’s turn to not get Dean’s point. Seeing how hard she’s trying to comprehend what he’s telling her, Dean keeps going. 

“I never needed a roommate, I was just looking for some easy company, you do remember the ad, right?” Dean smirks, remembering exactly each word: ‘Non-smoking women, only.’ “But then you came in and agreed to stay as long as nothing happened between us and I agreed. I thought I could make you change your mind but you resisted and frankly, after a while, I just pretended that I wasn’t attracted to you anymore but now I realize that I was lying to myself.”

The more Dean explains himself, the more they become closer without even realizing it. As Dean keeps on explaining, he leans a bit more comfortable on the couch, one lazy arm draped on top of it, just behind Y/N’s head.

“I don’t know why I lied to my mom that day. When she asked me if I was going to the party alone, I thought about you right away. Don’t ask me why I don’t have the answer. I just thought about you. And I thought I would be fine then but you had to charm me that weekend, without forcing yourself and then I just knew. I knew you would be the one, and damn it believe me when I say I tried to fight it and then-”

“Are you going to kiss me? Because I have enough of your ramblings already.” She whispers, her cheeks a deep red despite the confident voice she can muster. Honestly, she’s scared because it’s exactly what she dreamt of hearing but she couldn’t believe it, she must be daydreaming. She is proud of herself for not having run away already and knows that the only reason she’s still here is because of the ball of fur sleeping on her lap.

Surprised at first by her sharp tongue, Dean doesn’t let go of this occasion. He’s been dreaming of kissing her for so long, there’s no way he will let that chance slip. Gently, he brings his body closer, their knees now touching while his hand cups her cheek. Dean can’t help and smirks when he notices the way she’s softly biting on her lower lip, her body buzzing under his fingertips, so he doesn’t wait any longer and ends the torturous wait by pressing his lips against her. He wants to keep the kiss chaste and gentle but that was without counting on Y/N to be the greedier one. Once the first surprise at the contact has passed, she’s responding to his kiss eagerly, her tongue licking his lower lip, seeking a way inside. Dean, being proud to please his women grants her wish, happily. His other hand cups the other side of her face, tilting their heads in the movement, giving them more room to deepen their kiss. They’re not in a rush, they just want to enjoy this unique moment, their very first kiss, after several failed attempts and it’s sweet as fuck. Their tongues are fighting each other, curious and greedy. The only reason they part is that they need to breathe, so, ruefully, Dean breaks the embrace, his lips missing the soft touch of her already.

“Dean, I have to tell you, I’m sorry I-” Y/N starts to apologize, still breathless and flushed but this time it’s Dean’s turn to shush her.

“It’s getting late. Why don’t we apologize tomorrow, hm?” He pleaded, his forehead pressed against her. “Would you stay the night? Please?”

“Would you let me stay more than one night?” She asks instead of answering him and a slight grin adorns Dean’s lips as he kisses her forehead.

“You can stay as long as you want, Sweetheart. Is forever long enough for you?” He jokes between kisses.

The bright smile she’s giving him is enough of an answer. Slowly they stand up, Y/N careful with her movements so she doesn’t wake up Shadow who is happily snoring into her arms. She heads for her bedroom and Dean opens her door for her. She can feel her heart sore when she notices Dean’s old tee-shirt on the top of her bed.

“Good night, Sweetheart. See you tomorrow.” Dean wishes her goodnight, kissing her again as he can’t get enough. Now that he knows how she tastes, he just needs more. She’s really addicting.

“By the way,” he asks suddenly as he was going to close her door and leave her alone. “Are you staying for me or the dog?” He jokes, knowing perfectly the answer but any excuse is enough to keep her in his sight.

“Both?” She answers sheepishly before laughing when Dean’s face falls, he wasn’t expecting that kind of answer.

***

A few days later, Y/N is whistling in the kitchen, preparing Dean and her breakfast. After a very long day full of talking they’re back to their usual routine. They both were honest to each other and agreed to never lie to themselves anymore. If one of them has something to say, then they’ll say it, no matter how hard or scary it could be. They haven’t put a label on their relationship yet.

“Stop it!” She warns Dean, her back turned towards him as she’s flipping the pancakes in the pan. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.”

Dean freezes his movement, a bit of bacon dangling from his fingertips as he gives Shadow an apologetic look.

“Sorry buddy, I swear she has eyes in the back of her head.” He whispers to the puppy who’s waiting for the piece of bacon to magically fall on the ground. “Sweetheart, your phone is ringing a lot this morning.” Dean comments, hearing the stupid device ringing on the coffee table.

“I wonder who it is.” She ponders, whipping her hands with a towel as she walks into the living room but the ringing stops before she has time to take the call. That’s the moment she notices she has missed 35 calls and has 52 messages left. “Oh shit!”

“What?” Dean asks, curious to know what’s going on.

“Ketch! I completely forgot I was supposed to go out with him yesterday.” She answers without thinking, too focused on reading the angry messages the British man left her.

“Ketch?” Dean exclaimed and to Shadow’s delight a piece of bacon finally falls on the ground, miraculously. “Seriously?”

Dean doesn’t care about the deathly glare she’s throwing at him for feeding Shadow with bacon, the Ketch topic being more important at the moment.

“I was a bit confused and made a mistake.” She admits and rolls her eyes, knowing how sensitive that particular topic is.

Dean comes into the living room and manhandles Y/N, forcing her to turn around and look at him. “No, no, no.” Dean disagrees, pressing his forehead against her. “Having sex in the shower is a mistake. Forgetting my mom’s birthday is a mistake. Dating Ketch is simply the dumbest move. You should thank me for saving you from his claws, you deserve better.” He finally says, kissing her deeply.

With a soft tap on his arms that are wrapped around her waist, she breaks their embrace, an amused smile on her lips. “Because you’re better?”

“Damn right, I am.” Dean grins proudly.

“Damn right you are.” She concedes, kissing him back. “Oh, speaking of which! Mary called yesterday, she asked me to remind you that your Uncle Bobby’s birthday party is next weekend.” She remembers suddenly. “She didn’t seem surprised to have me over the phone. Did you tell your mom that we’re together?”

Dean shakes his head no, a fond smile on her lips, and wraps his arms around her once again, bringing their body closer. “Not yet,” Dean admits and smiles a bit more, picturing how his family will react when he’ll come with Y/N at his sides.

“Now that you mention it, I haven’t asked you something.” He starts, unwrapping his arms from her waist and taking both of her hands in his before becoming suddenly serious. “Will you be my girlfriend? For real this time.” He asks, his eyes plunged into her.

As she loses herself into the deepest green eyes she has ever seen, Y/N knows there is only one answer to that question. Their relationship started the day this man pronounced one little white lie and none of them knew how it would turn. That day she thought she was helping one pretty, little liar and the story would be over by the end of the weekend. However, after some stupid complication they didn’t need, Y/N finally knows that Dean Winchester is and always will be her pretty little liar. So instead of answering him with a plain and obvious answer, Y/N gives him the most passionate kiss she can provide.

“Friendly advice,” she says as they broke the kiss, their lips still touching. “Next time you propose to me, bring the ring with you or your mom will kill you.”

FIN

Pour Toujours tags:  @drakelover78​​, @akshi8278​​

PLL tags: @eliwinchester99​​, @paiswhite​​, @vicmc624​​, @metalfangirl, @londoncallingbutiwontpickup​

[cinnaminsvga]

💋 | tlhc!yoongi

the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired

→ tlhc!yoongi ft. jungkook | 3.5K words → a/n: this was written after an anon sent me a REALLY angsty idea for tlhc and i haven’t stopped thinking about it since. also, this takes place after namjin’s wedding but before yoongi and y/n get together (in this drabble, they’re “dating” but i say that loosely because... well. they’re fucking yoongi and y/n so OFC they’re stupidly, emotionally constipated). anyway... here’s This!! rip!!

Yoongi knows he’s being childish when he leaves your shared apartment with a large pout on his face. He knows that if he just tried a little harder, he could’ve convinced you to let him stay at home instead of going to some godforsaken bachelor party. He hasn’t been to a party involving body shots and strippers since he graduated from university, and he isn’t exactly keen on returning to that particular scene either. He has always been a more wine and dine type of guy, and everyone is aware of this.

It’s a well-known fact amongst his circle of friends that Min Yoongi isn’t keen on attending most types of social gatherings. Birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, casual get-togethers… It didn’t matter what the occasion is because Yoongi is certainly going to hate every second of it. It didn’t even matter if the party was being hosted by a long-time friend; after all, sitting in a room filled with half-strangers and estranged friends isn’t exactly what Yoongi would consider a “fun time.”

It doesn’t stop people from inviting him out of courtesy, though.

Most of the time, Yoongi is able to grit through the pain of human interaction as long as you tagged along with him. You’re kind of like Yoongi’s walking meat shield when it comes to parties, though you aren’t exactly fond of his analogy when he had explained himself to you. Nevertheless, you always did understand him better than anyone else, always being his savior from awkward small talk by redirecting the conversation away from him. Or, you would quietly tug him outside to the backyard so that the two of you could pet the party owner’s dog or something.

Truly, what would he have done without you?

“I still don’t understand why you expect me to go to this party alone. You’re practically feeding me to the sharks,” Yoongi whines, not at all immaturely. He can hear your exasperated sigh through his phone speakers, though he imagines that you hadn’t been aiming to conceal your ire in the first place.

“Yoonie, it’s Jungkook’s bachelor party. You heard what that dweeb said: ‘No girls allowed’ or some shit. Like some sort of toddler. I’m surprised he even asked you to attend.”

“Are you implying that I should be barred entry because of my feminine hips?” Yoongi asks, hopeful. “Cause honestly, I was only kinda offended when Jungkook said I had twink-sized proportions, so I mean…”

You scoff, though Yoongi can imagine you shaking your head with tired fondness. AKA, your default mood towards him on most days. Yoongi doubts that fondness is going to help him convince you to let him get the fuck out of this party, though. “Save it. You’re going to that party or else.”

Yoongi sniffs, offended. “Honestly, you should be the one going instead of me. I’m not as close to that pussyboi as you are.”

“Hey, only I’m allowed to call him that,” you chide. “Besides, you already left the house. I don’t understand why you’re calling me in the first place. It’s almost 8PM and you should be at the restaurant by now.”

It’s true. Yoongi is literally already in front of the restaurant where they all agreed to meet before heading out to the “main event,” or whatever the hell that means. It could only end badly; after all, Park Jimin had been the one to organize this shitshow of a bachelor party. Things will not go in Yoongi’s favor tonight if Jimin can help it.

“I’m only here because you threatened to disfigure Kobe Bryant-sunbaenim! That bobblehead is limited edition!” Yoongi has the strongest urge to stomp his feet, though he restrains himself only so that the hostess by the entrance of the restaurant won’t call the manager on him (again.) He is nearing his 30’s for fuck’s sake! Then again, Seokjin is a year older than him and if Yoongi’s future is anything like his, he shudders to think what might become of him.

“Yoonie,” you say, voice steely and quiet. Uh oh. You’re getting genuinely angry by now, and Yoongi knows he’s pushing your buttons to their limits. However, he wouldn’t be doing it otherwise if he really didn’t want to go to this party. He hates disappointing you, but nothing on this planet could ever make him want to go through those mahogany doors and face that bucktoothed loser with stars in his googly eyes.

Yoongi sighs, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. “I know, I know. I’m being childish. It’s just a party and I should just endure it. Although, I’m not promising that I’ll even try to pretend that I’m enjoying it. That’s beyond my paygrade, I’m afraid,” Yoongi says, picking his hangnails as he gazes at the entrance of the restaurant. The hostess’ left eyebrow twitches slightly, a forced customer service smile on her lips. Yoongi feels a sudden sense of strong camaraderie with this stranger.

“I was just gonna say that if you really can’t stand the party, then I’m allowing you an out. If you can stay there for at least two hours, then you can leave once you’ve––“

You hardly get to finish your sentence when Yoongi cuts you off, a strangled sob of relief escaping his throat. “Oh, thank you, my goddess! You are truly the apple of my eye; I shalt never speak ill of you no longer! You are heaven incarnate, my fair and beautiful mistress, the sun who has chased away the darkness––“

“Shut the fuck up, court jester,” you say, endearment dripping like honey off of your words. But Yoongi is already smiling ear to ear, hopelessly warm for some reason. If Hoseok had been around, he would have gagged at the sight of the two of you.

We’re so whipped, Yoongi thinks idly to himself.

“Now go say hello to Jungkook for me, will you? And please, if either he or Jimin do anything stupid or illegal, try to hold them back a little, okay?”

“Nope, I don’t think so,” Yoongi says, before promptly hanging up. Before he pockets his phone, he texts a short “ily” just in case he actually might have pissed you off. Either way, that will be a problem for future Yoongi to figure out.

Just as he ended the calls, a muffled crash and what sounds like a hyena being forced down a trash compactor from inside the restaurant echoes ominously through the open streets. Yoongi and the hostess hardly flinch at the cacophany, both of them staring glassily at the smoggy South Korean sky with quiet acquiescence.

“Fuck me,” Yoongi says. “Fuck me, indeed.”

*.*.*.*.*

The party is as terrible as Yoongi had imagined. Scratch that––Yoongi doesn’t think his imagination is capable of conjuring such a nightmarish scene. He’s pretty sure at least 99% of the inhabitants of this strip club were doing something slightly to moderately illegal. Case in point:

“Jeon Jungkook, I don’t think you should be doing that,” Yoongi yells over the discordant noise that the DJ is trying to pass off as “music.” Jungkook pauses in his ministrations to turn to face Yoongi, which is a feat in itself, as it appears that Jungkook’s eyes were facing opposite directions. Yoongi chooses to maintain eye contact with his left one.

“Whaaa? Why not, coconut?” Jungkook giggles at his little rhyme at the end, but his laughter sounds garbled, probably hindered by the amount of saliva pooling inside his mouth.

Yoongi points at his hands. “Jungkook. I’m pretty sure that is not salt that you are pouring over your fries.”

It takes a few moments for Jungkook to register anything that Yoongi had said. In fact, Yoongi doesn’t think he registers them at all; Yoongi has to forcefully take away the soiled plate of “mystery powder fries” away from him before Jungkook even realizes anything is going on.

“Heeeey, getchur own food, boomer!” Jungkook whines, making grabby hands at the plate before flopping pathetically onto Yoongi’s lap. Yoongi, ever the gentleman, pushes the younger off until he tumbles off the side of the booth and into a mysterious puddle spilled by one of the scantily clad “mechanics.” Jungkook, to his credit, gets up back onto his seat with some semblance of grace (which is to say, he managed to get his ass onto the couch without any additional injury.)

“I can’t believe I’m literally at a glorified children’s party. And I thought babysitting Namjoon’s little demon was bad enough,” Yoongi groans, grimacing in disgust at the mystery liquid from the floor oozes gently down the side of Jungkook’s face. “Dude. Wipe your fucking face.”

Jungkook, known laundry-fanatic and clean freak extraordinaire, promptly takes off his pristine white shirt and uses it to dab his face away. After which, he throws it somewhere behind him, right into a circle of twinks who proceed to fight over who gets to keep it. “Better,” he mutters, same dopey smile on his face.

“Just 1 hour, 18 minutes and 34 seconds left, Yoongi… I can do this,” Yoongi says through clenched teeth. He takes a deep breath, counts to ten, tries to remember what his therapist told him to do when he’s slowly losing his grip on reality. Then, Jungkook throws up all over his new leather shoes.

“Hyung,” Jungkook mutters sleepily, head lolling like he’s about to drop dead in a second. He grins dopily at Yoongi, a string of saliva dripping down the side of his cheek. “I think I’m sick.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” And so, like the kind person that he is, he drags Jungkook by the armpits, dodging sweaty strippers and drunken guests alike as he tows the younger to the nearby restroom. Yoongi contemplates bringing Jungkook to Jimin to take care of him instead, but that idea is completely dashed the moment he sees the latter drinking shots as if it were water. The risk of having two people vomit on his shoes in one night would have been extremely high, and Yoongi isn’t an idiot. So he takes the idiot draped across his back to the toilet himself.

The restroom is empty when they arrive. When Yoongi slams the door shut, it becomes shockingly quiet as the noise from outside gets dulled to a soft throb. Yoongi immediately dumps Jungkook against one of the chipped porcelain sinks, grimacing slightly when the younger causes the sink to groan precariously from his weight.

“Hyungie,” Jungkook warbles. The sweat on his brow has made his bangs stick to his forehead in strange patterns, and Yoongi imagines he could rearrange his hair to spell out “SHITHEAD” if he so desired.

“What.” Yoongi grabs a handful of paper towels and proceeds to try (and fail) to clean the carnage on his shoes. Meanwhile, Jungkook just stands there quietly, spit long since dried on his face, adding to the sheen already there. The quietness of the restroom is both jarring and awkward compared to the insanity just behind the door, and Yoongi finds himself preferring to look at his black-turned-brown shoes instead of the boy standing just to his right.

“I think I overdid it,” Jungkook admits after a while. Yoongi chances a glance upwards before looking back down at the floor, uncomfortable when he sees the surprisingly sober face of a man who had just finished drinking ten tequila shots. 

“You think?” Yoongi snorts, rolling his eyes. He inches forward towards the sink, gently nudging Jungkook out of the way to wash his hands. Jungkook has still yet made a move towards the faucet himself, but Yoongi isn’t about to offer to clean him up either. He’s already a Samaritan for bringing him to the restroom; he’s used up all his empathy points for today.

“Y/N and Tae always say that I have severely low impulse control.”

True to form, Yoongi’s traitorous ears perk up at the mention of your name, and he finally makes full eye contact with Jungkook through the mirror. “It took two people and ten tequila shots to figure it out? Geez. No wonder you almost didn’t graduate kindergarten.”

“Hey, I told you that in confidence,” Jungkook pouts.

“Not my problem,” Yoongi retorts, indifferent. Yoongi stares at him for a moment. “Jesus. You look like a fucking mess. You sure you’re getting married next week?”

“I’m pretty sure, unless Taehyung changes his mind,” Jungkook shrugs. Well, that was certainly not quite the answer Yoongi was expecting. Yoongi must not have been quick enough to hide his surprise because Jungkook laughs coldly, the sound mirthless and paper-thin––not at all like the ridiculously mirthful manchild he’s always known him to be.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet?” Yoongi had meant to say it like a joke, but his harsh tone doesn’t escape his own ears. God, he wishes he was better at this, but sue him for lacking practice at consoling other human beings.

Luckily, Jungkook takes it in stride, shrugging his shoulders. “Not really. More like… I’m in disbelief? That he’d actually… after all this time…”

Yoongi doesn’t reply at first. For as long as Yoongi has known him, the elder has never quite connected with Jungkook, for whatever reason. Hearing him speak so candidly about his feelings like this is new territory for Yoongi, and it’s strangely making him nervous. He feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention as he is faced with a side of Jungkook that Yoongi didn’t think he was capable of having. Sure, you’ve told him vaguely about the problems that Jungkook has asked advice about, but never has Yoongi ever thought that he’d be doing the same. The two of them just weren’t… like that.

“I’m sure Taehyung likes––no, loves you. A lot. Anyone with eyes can see that he absolutely adores you,” Yoongi says after a while, coughing awkwardly into his fist. God, he sucks at this. Where are you when he needs you? You always knew what to say in moments like this.

Jungkook laughs again, and it’s just as discordant as the first. He shakes his head, empty smile on his lips. “It’s not that. I don’t doubt him in the slightest. It’s more like… I’m doubting myself.”

Now that catches Yoongi’s attention. Self-doubt, loneliness, fear: if Yoongi had to be an expert on anything, it would be for those three. He… he gets it. “Jungkook, if this is about feeling like you don’t deserve him, then you’re dead wrong. You’re allowed to be loved, Jungkook. Believe me, I know more than anyone what denial feels like. The two of you aren’t going to crash and burn, okay? You’ll be fine.”

Jungkook smiles wryly at that. “Thanks. But it’s not… it’s not that.” Jungkook pauses, and it looks like the words get caught in his throat. He opens his mouth, closes it. Grimaces like he’s swallowed something bitter. He takes a deep breath, looking as uncomfortable as Yoongi feels. “Yoongi-hyung, I have a confession to make.”

Now Yoongi’s confused. “What?”

“I haven’t been… candid. With you. About…” Jungkook takes another shaky breath. “About me and Y/N.”

Yoongi’s blood runs cold. He feels the sweat start to form across his palms, and he clenches them into fists to stop them from shaking. He can almost sense the disaster before it even hits, feels the floor swimming underneath his feet, waiting to devour him whole.

“What?” Yoongi repeats.

“I’ve been thinking about it, recently. It’s been years since I last even remembered it, but then it started plaguing my dreams, and it’s… It’s ruining me. I need––I need to come clean or else I might die with regret,” Jungkook says. Yoongi still doesn’t understand what he means; Jungkook is just saying words without saying anything at all, and it’s making the wait even more terrible.

“Kook, just spit it out already.”

“Hyung, I beg of you. Please don’t think badly of me but…” Jungkook slumps to the floor just then, both the sink and his legs unable to keep him up any longer. Against his will, Yoongi tumbles with him, compelled to follow him down.

“What? What? What?”

“I kissed her,” Jungkook murmurs, voice low. Whispered like a secret. Because it is a secret, even though it isn’t any longer. Not when the words have crawled out his mouth and into Yoongi’s ears, making its way to his brain where it refuses to be understood, to be processed.

“What?” Yoongi can’t seem to remember how to breathe, much less how to speak. He can’t say anything else except, “What?”

“N-not recently. A long time ago,” Jungkook hurries, fear crossing his face when he realizes how he must have sounded. “I would never cheat on––Y/N would never cheat on you––“

His words do nothing to quell the thunderous beating in Yoongi’s chest. He can only stare as the younger jumbles over his words, fat tears starting to dribble out of his eyes like waterfalls. Why is he crying? This is so wrong.

“We––when you broke her heart, all those years ago. Before she ran away to Daegu––“

Yoongi remembers. Of course he does. He doesn’t think he can ever forget.

“––she was so so sad, and it fucking hurt. It hurt seeing her like that, you know? I… I hated you for it. So much, hyung,” Jungkook sobs, hiding behind his hands. He wipes at his face, smearing his sweat, tears, and vomit with shaky movements. “And then she kissed me but it was a mistake because she was heartbroken and she just wanted to feel––to feel something? I don’t know… And then I pushed her away––“

“You pushed her away?” Yoongi interrupts, uncharacteristically calm. He thinks like he should be screaming, maybe. Or feel jealous, even. But then again, this had happened years ago, when you and he hadn’t even been… anything, at the time. Hell, he has no right to be hurt by this. He shouldn’t even be allowed to resent Jungkook for it. Shouldn’t have to feel like he won’t be able to forgive Jungkook. So then why is he..?

Jungkook nods. “I-I did, but that’s not… the whole thing. For a while, I thought that maybe…” He curls into himself, bowing his head in shame. Yoongi doesn’t need to hear the rest to know what he was about to say.

“You used to love her, didn’t you?”  

Jungkook nods again, ashamed. Disgusted with himself. “Pathetic, right?” 

But the thing is, Yoongi already knew this. You’ve told him about Jungkook’s misplaced affections for you; it had happened during a stressful time for the both of you, and you had assured Jungkook that his feelings were just a figment of his imagination. You believed that Jungkook had just been lonely, desperate for someone to cling onto especially after all that drama between Taehyung and Hoseok at the time.

“She kept telling me that I wasn’t in love with her. And for a while, I believed her. But then, when she was about to leave for America, we… we kissed again. Just to… I wanted to make sure,” Jungkook slams his fist onto the dirty restroom floor, clawing at the tiles like an animal in pain. It’s getting harder for Yoongi to understand Jungkook through his sobs, but he is afraid of even moving lest Jungkook stops speaking. It’s like watching a car crash––no matter how much Yoongi is afraid, he can’t look away.

“When we kissed the second time... She laughed. I laughed. ‘No spark,’ was what she said. I agreed because I had no other choice but to,” Jungkook admits. He exhales like his chest has been ripped open, like he’s drowning. Yoongi feels the same way.

“It would be unfair if I said anything. To her, to you, to Taehyung… but most of all, to myself. Because it would never work. It’s not… I’m not...” Jungkook coughs, trailing off. He hacks his lungs out, forehead banging against his knees from the force. He heaves for air once, twice. Then, silence.

“Jungkook?” Yoongi whispers, momentarily stunned. When the younger doesn’t reply, he nudges his shoulder. No movement. Yoongi tilts his head upwards, only to find Jungkook’s eyelids already closed and breathing steadily through his nose. The bastard had finally passed out.

“Jesus,” Yoongi sighs, letting go of the younger and letting him crumple to the floor. Yoongi contemplates passing out as well. “Jesus,” Yoongi repeats.

He sits there in silence for a while, accompanied only by his thoughts and the muffled sounds of the party outside. He doesn’t know how long he sits there for, only thinks to leave the restroom when a young couple (Jungkook’s college friends) burst in while making out, both incognizant of the odd pair slumped on the floor.

Yoongi leaves Jungkook there, but not before sending a short text to Jimin to go check on Jungkook, and sending another one to Taehyung for good measure. Yoongi rushes out of the club without looking back, feeling slightly more empty than he had before the night started.

You don’t comment when Yoongi comes back home earlier than expected. You don’t even scold him for breaking his side in the agreement. Wrapped up in blankets in front of the TV, you wordlessly open up your cocoon to let him slither in beside you, allowing him to wrap his cold feet against your legs. You don’t even complain when he falls asleep without another word, just gently caressing his hair as he descends into fitful dreams. He doesn’t bring up the party the next day, and neither do you.

The following week, the two of you attend Taehyung and Jungkook’s wedding.

[aheavenofhell]

Shooting Stars

dedicated to and inspired by @mindsummerdream

The thing about being an astronomer is, you don't get much, well, face to face contact in your profession. That is to say, though Crowley can gaze at the stars from afar, he has never had the opportunity to actually look at one—to touch it, feel it, look at it up close. So when the London Center of Space Exploration writes him an email describing an asteroid that they think will hit Shaftesbury, and they want him to go and take samples, he is, of course, ecstatic. Normally, geologists do the collecting bit, but apparently a professor at the Center had read a rather reputable paper by A J Crowley and had decided he would be exactly the man for the job. Crowley couldn't possibly disagree. A shooting star is, of course, not really a star. It is actually tiny bits of dust and rock called meteoroids, that, when spiraling into Earth's atmosphere, begins to burn. If anything survives the flames and hits earth—that is what we call meteorites. The flames are what cause the fantastic streaks of light that spin through the sky. Why does this happen? Sometimes, as the Earth orbits the Sun, it passes through debris left by a comet. This causes a meteor shower. Of course, Crowley is after an asteroid, which is like a much bigger version of a meteorite. Crowley had watched many meteor showers, but had never actually come in contact with one. He didn't have any type of proper geological sampling tools, so he settled on taking gloves and plastic bags and a sharpie, for labeling the bags. Oh, and a bottle of Loire Rose. He preferred dark, dry wine for special occasions, and it would be a celebration, of course. The professor on the phone had warned him specifically not to go to the area during the shower, but he dutifully ignored that and took a train to Shaftesbury the next morning. He shacked up in a nice local inn for the night, where he spent most of his time methodically looking over the pictures that determined the asteroid's orbit and descent. Exactly where it was going to hit was sketchy at best, but Crowley had a sort of sixth sense about this one. He wouldn't know if he was right until the next evening. He packed up his backpack of essentials, grabbed his smallest telescope, and started his trek. Shaftesbury was a rural town, small, quaint. Crowley preferred London's bustle and noise, but he could appreciate places like this—places where the light of the city didn't drown out the lights in the sky. It was an excellent place to set up a telescope and wile the night away. Of course, he would've liked to have someone to do it with. Got a bit. . .odd. Just talking to yourself about things. He would like to have a pair of eager ears once in a while, someone else who saw the same beauty in the universe he did. Oh well. Maybe someday. For now, he focused on where his astronomy-senses were taking him. He ended up in a large, empty field. It would be very nice if the asteroid were to land there, because it would make finding all the pieces much easier. Crowley sat down in the grass, opened his bottle of wine, and waited. For maybe an hour, he sat, just drinking and watching. He never lost his sense of childish wonder when it came to space—every time he looked up, he still felt that same sense of excitement and curiosity. What's up there? Will I ever see it? He was about to. It came streaking through the sky at exactly 12:34 AM. Crowley knew, because as it did he scrambled to check his watch and write the time down before watching in amazement as it soared just over the treeline, the light dying as it fell. He gathered up his things and ran in the direction it had gone. He wasn't too far off, because it ended up only being about a two kilometers away. Of course, two kilometers feels a bit longer when it is night time and there are mosquitoes about and the terrain is rough. Still, not too shabby. He brandished his flashlight as he swept the landscape, hunting for the crater. There it was. Big! Much bigger than he thought it would be! He felt a fresh wave of excitement wash over him. Cautiously, he approached the crater—all organic matter left would certainly be hot. But he could, at least, look at it. He got to the edge, shined his flashlight down, and— There was no asteroid at all. There was a man. There are several reasons Crowley found this extremely disconcerting: 1. A lack of asteroid was, admittedly, very disappointing. 2. The man was not burning himself alive, somehow. 3. The man was glowing. “Hello?!” Crowley yelped, because it was the only thing he could think to say. “Erm, hello!” the man in the crater said. “I seem to have made a bit of a mistake. Oh dear, this is very embarrassing. Gabriel will not be happy with me—“ “Isn't it hot down there?” Crowley asked, deciding that the best way to handle this would be to roll with it. “It's a bit toasty, just comfortable, I'd say. Oh no! Now this is a problem.” This is where Crowley was doubly confused. He was almost as confused as the first time he'd used an ATM. Because the man had just stretched out a feathered wing from his own back. And it looked. . .not good. The bird-man flinched as he attempted to flex it. It was bent all the wrong way. “That's a wing,” Crowley said stupidly. “It's a problem,” bird-man agreed. He climbed out of the hole. “I'm sorry, I don't think I properly introduced myself. I'm Aziraphale.” He stuck out his hand. Crowley, dumbfounded, shook it. “Crowley,” he said. “And, ehm, what exactly. . .are you?” “Oh yes. I'm an angel, a Principality, to be precise. I was popping over here for a visit, they have the best fish'n chips here, you know, and I must have hit something—“ “So wait.” Crowley held up his hands to pause him. “You're an angel. Like, a supernatural entity that fell from the sky.” “Just the sort.” Aziraphale smiled. It was a bit adorable. “And now your wing's injured,” Crowley added as an afterthought. “And I have no asteroid to bring back to London.” The angel frowned. “I was mistaken for an asteroid? So you're some sort of scientist, then?” “An astronomer,” Crowley clarified, a bit bitterly. Now wasn't really the time to be petty, but, well—he'd wanted his rock. Aziraphale wrung his hands. “Do you think, that, perhaps—“ he licked his lips, “—perhaps I could accompany you, back to London? I could even miracle us there, so you needn't pay for a ticket home. Just—you know, until I fix my wing.” Crowley stared at him. “You want to stay at my flat?” “You seem like a very nice human, and I'm in a rather tight spot. You see, I was already reprimanded last week over an incident with a dead cat that came back to life a bit too suspiciously—“ “You, an angel, want to stay at my flat because—because you don't want to get in trouble with. . .?” “Gabriel. Archangel. Big deal, you know.” Crowley put a hand to his forehead. Maybe he'd had a bit too much to drink. The angel was giving him an awfully pleading look, though. And his wing did look all bent and pathetic. . .and he did come here to bring back a shooting star. “Fine,” he said. What could go wrong? When Crowley woke up in his flat, a tad hungover and definitely spotty, his first thought was that he'd had a very bizarre dream. Then he heard someone humming in the kitchen. He leaped out of bed, silently hoping it was some sort of burglar, and crept into the kitchen. Nope. It was Aziraphale. He had cooked a rather nice looking breakfast, and made tea, and was now quietly humming “Water Music” and reading in a chair Crowley knew he didn't have before. “How'd you do all this?” Crowley asked, rummaging around for some aspirin and seltzer. “Good morning,” Aziraphale said, looking up in surprise. “I went shopping—your fridge and cabinets are rather barren, you know, and thought you might enjoy a spot of breakfast.” Crowley raised his eyebrows. “I meant, how did we get back here?” “Oh! A small miracle—literally. I just sort of—wished us back.” Crowley decided that was enough information for now. “How's the wing?” he asked. Wincing, the angel stretched it out. It looked worse than before. Crowley tentatively touched it, and Aziraphale immediately flinched. “It will heal,” the angel muttered. “Want an aspirin?” Crowley said, in an attempt to be helpful. “That's very kind, dear boy, but I think some rest will be the best medicine.” Crowley shrugged, and found very suddenly that his hangover was cured. Maybe having an angel around wouldn't be so bad. For the next week, Crowley got to know Aziraphale a bit. His habits were niche, but not peculiar. He seemed to enjoy books, and food, and classical music. He often invited Crowley to dine out, as a sort of payment for letting him stay, and his taste in restaurants was admittedly excellent. Crowley often found him pouring over an old tome or making notes beside one. By the end of the week, they had fallen into a sort of comfortable pattern—they were very compatible flatmates (a rare thing indeed) and Crowley found he was actually enjoying the angel's company. He told Professor Knox that the asteroid was simply a no-show, a mistake, and went back to going to the Observatory and studying there. One evening, Aziraphale even went with him, eager to “learn something new” and perhaps even “spot that one that Uriel said looked like him”. Crowley thought it would be annoying, but. . .Aziraphale actually listened to him. He genuinely seemed to find what Crowley was saying interesting, and made comments and asked questions. By the end of the night, Crowley had smiled and laughed more times than he had in years. But the angel couldn't stay forever. His wing was healing—it got worse first, but then gradually began to heal. Angels heal faster than humans, and Crowley suspected that Aziraphale's wing had already healed a while ago. But he was just as reluctant to leave as Crowley was to let him go. “Perhaps we should talk,” the angel quietly said one night. They sat down, facing each other, and Aziraphale suddenly looked quite sad, and Crowley knew what was about to come. Aziraphale managed to meet his eyes, and smile a bit. “My wing is healed,” he said softly. “I want to thank you—for everything. You've truly been gener—“ “Right, yeah,” Crowley said, words a bit thick. “'S no problem.” Aziraphale smiled. “Well, as a thank you, of sorts—I had something arranged.” He handed Crowley a scroll. Crowley went to unravel it, but Aziraphale stopped him. “After I leave,” he explained. Crowley nodded. “Well, erm, good luck,” he said. “Back up there, Hope you don't get in any trouble.” “Thank you, dear fellow. And good luck to you here. Perhaps I could. . .visit.” They shook hands, and Crowley tried his best not to cry, or kiss him, or cry. “Right. Goodbye.”   And the angel was gone. It took Crowley a few moments to gather himself before he could properly examine the scroll. He swallowed, turning it over in his hands. It had a lovely red ribbon around it. Gingerly, he untied the bow and let the paper unravel. It read, in very elegant handwriting, like this: Anthony J Crowley, In the Name of Heaven Itself, I, Principality Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate, dub you Saint of Astronomy. May the stars glimmer in your honor. Aziraphale got back to Heaven, and found it a bit empty. “Sorry I'm late,” he told Gabriel, even though time didn't actually exist there. “Aziraphale. How is “earth” doing?” “Good, good.” He walked around for a bit, feeling strangely saddened. He wondered if Crowley was reading his letter—if he liked it. He found himself thinking about the human for a very long time. I think I must have left something in his flat, he thought hopefully. Maybe. . .my first edition copy of Dorian Gray? Now I can't have that going missing. . . “I left something, I'll be right back!” he squeaked suddenly to Gabriel. “Aziraphale—“ He disappeared. “Crowley! Are you still here? I—“ He was interrupted as a certain saint yanked him into a kiss. Oh, he thought. I think I could get used to this.