#everyone who’s religious believes everyone is going to heaven

[nemesyaaa]

losing my religion // dark!cult leader!rafe x innocent!reader

summary ; god loves you but not enough to save you.

warnings : mentions of religions. manipulation. cult. smut. corruption kink. small town church trope. religious trauma. purity/innocence kink. slight of god complex. first time. dark/soft!rafe. mentions of murder. sweet lamb trope. coercion. smoking. little age gap. heaven goal. mentions of size kink. glorification. be careful with the warnings. minors DNI.

author's note : it's around 5k words. pfiouuuu. televangelism by ethel cain playing in the background please.

“ father, will i go to heaven ? ”

“ father, will i be this good all my life ? ”

“ father, where was god when i thought he was there ? ”

“ father, did god let me sin on purpose ? ”

you lived in a small remote village, the kind of town where everyone knew each other, and where there were no secrets. well, you thought there were no secrets because everyone here was a true and firm believer. all the locals lived for god. and you would do anything for him and for your ticket to heaven. you had been baptized as a baby and had grown up as a child of the lord, and his most faithful angel. you have acted so well since your childhood and were sure that your death will be a pleasant trip to paradise.

you went to church every day because you always had something to say to god, to ask him, to make him understand. you prayed to speak to him, for him to see you, for him to hear you, for him to know how grateful you were for the life he had given you. your parents had always recommended that you cherish your existence, but also everything that happened to you, the misfortunes as well as the pleasures. life was neither all rosy, nor all white, nor gray or black. you were the only person to give it color. so your religious sister told you that you just needed to know how to paint, but that sometimes you would fail, you would fail but that it didn't matter. because you will make a masterpiece again sooner or later.

you were a devoted child, a faithful lamb with no anger inside, but above all full of love. you gave it to everyone when god had taught you and commanded you to share it as much as possible, that it was this feeling that would bring peace on earth. and who did not want peace, who did not want to please his creator? you were a good girl, so sweet and innocent, the kind sweetheart of the town, incapable of harm or sin, always dressed in your white dress and your little black shoes. you wear everything that can please god. you walked through the church hallway to join the choir, holding the candles. the world had his eyes on you, but especially this tall man lodged in the dark corner.

this man was not god and you knew it, because god would never look at you that way.

you wouldn't know how to describe this gaze on you, but it made you uncomfortable. you continued to move forward, holding the flame preciously against you. you sang with your angelic voice, glory to the almighty, glory to the one who made your existence so beautiful, to bring your back to life every time you felt, and this guy was still staring at you like you were the only person that existed, like the world had taken away the entire universe except you.

maybe you were an angel. after all, you were among the Lord's faithful.

you had never dated a man in your life. your parents and god forbid you, because you needed to stay pure for the good one. you had to remain virgin and clean for your future husband. you were forbidden to look at them, touch them or talk to them except for church activities. you were so loved by god so you had no right to sin, no fucking right to betray him. you had to remain as intact as the mother of everyone, as virgin mary.

you were as holy as the bible, the treasure of the creator. you were devoted like a lamb to his owner, as the followers to the cult leader.

you had never experienced something like touching yourself, making yourself feel good, and anything that included carnal pleasures. you didn't know about pornography, sexuality and lust. you walked away from it as if it were the devil. you were unable to make your god mad, you were too scared for that.

you were faithful to the lord. you helped the people of the village, homeless, the destitute, poor children, the elderly, you helped the world become a better place even when it seemed to be turning against you.

at the end of the mass, everyone, the priest had sent you to collect the funds from the locals.

you were standing in front of the steps. people were always kind and smiling to you as you were collecting funds for the church.

and you had been waiting for this voice to come at you.

“do you really want to go to heaven ? ”

you turned to face the man from earlier, the one hidden in the benches. you answered him with the sweetest smile, and the most nervous look. "yes, i do everything to go there. am i not good enough ? "

“everything?” the stranger had laughed kindly, but it had offended you slightly with that soft giggle.

“ why are you laughing ? this is not funny. ”

“ slow down, baby. you're too pretty to get on your nerves. ” he had pulled out a cigarette.

“will you forget God for a second and be an angel to me ? ”

“ God is in my heart, is in me. i can't forget him, even for a second. he's the reason why i'm living. ”

“ be sweet, angel and light it for me. don't say no, your divine father is watching you, you don't want him to catch you refusing to help a stranger and be mad at you? ” you looked at him with strange open eyes but you accepted. because he was right.

you didn't know how to say no to people. God didn't teach you to say no. people needed to help the people.

you lit his cigarette, and during the whole process he looked at you, his glare scanned your face. you were staring at him, and saw your own silhouette in his eyes, your shadow dancing in the perfect blue of his pupils.

you felt the heat in your cheeks, the burn of his gaze on your skin. you were unwell. you didn't like this situation, the unsteady feeling, the stranger proximity.

when you met him, you felt like a sinner more than a believer.

but he smiled at you. the soft kind of smile that made you forget everything, that made you feel so dumb.

“would i go to heaven now?” you teased him with a small laugh to echo his words.

“not yet but i can help you if you want if you're serious about that.” he answered.

“ i'm serious. ” you were really curious, and he had your full attention. you knew it wasn't good to talk for that long with a man. especially, older. but you took the risk.

you should have stopped when he complimented you because your parents said that men who are nice to girls like you always have bad intentions. but there was also something so charming and bewitching about this man. the way he was adorable. you didn’t see the evil in him.

“i really want to go to heaven, i swear on my life, sir. ”

“ sir ? such a polite thing but i'm not that old, sweetheart. i'm tall, not too old. ”

“ anyways, i really want to go to heaven !! ”

“you already said it, doll. i think God is tired of hearing it now. he wants proof, you know. he needs to see how devoted you are to him. ”

“how can i prove it to him?”

"i know God. i talk to him every day. i am his ruler. do you know what that means? that i am the one who decides for him whether people go to heaven or not. i am his most loyal servant, so he trusts me.”

“are you really connected to God?”

"you are too. we all are but the difference is that i can take you to heaven. i promise you." he placed his hand on your cheek, caressing it gently , a tender and unique gesture that made you shyly smile. “i’m not an angel. not yet.”

"yes, i assure you. i knew it as soon as i saw you in that church. join me." he announced with a warm voice.

“you have always been divine, i never doubted it. you have to go to heaven, you understand? you can't behave so well, be so charitable and disappoint God? and you wouldn't dare doing it, don't you, pretty lamb ? because do you think he will forgive you ? no, sweetheart. you will be punished and rejected like every sinners. ”

“ you're wrong ! God loves me ! ”

“you don't understand. you must be perfect until the end, you must be a great god masterpiece, not his biggest failure. you can't just be the chorus of this choir, be the beautiful thing who holds the candles at mass, the kind soul who helps others. you can't be just that when i can offer you even better and absolutely everything you want. any of your wishes. join me and i will make all your wishes come true, i will make you the new face of the paradise. i will make God see you everywhere. ”

"it seems so unreal...i don't know..."

he had cut you. he didn't want to give you time to think, leaving room for the barrier of doubt."you have to join me, isn't that what you wanted? for me to find you? if you believe in god, you have to be a good girl, make the right choices. "

“okay….” you finally agreed.

he waited for you in his car, one hand on the steering wheel. and you joined him inside. there was so much euphoria in you. you felt like you were doing something so right, so you had this goofy smile on your face.

"does God think i'm a good believer ? i pray every day, i attend mass every time, i sing in the choir and in my rooms all the songs dedicated to him. i only have the Bible as a book and i read it all the time. i can't do anything wrong. i'm good, i promise, i'm good. ”

"is that true? you'll have to show me so I can tell."

“I’m going to pray for you too.” you added. “I pray for all the souls in this world.”

“oh yes my angel will pray for me. i want to hear your prayers, all your prayers about me. but not in front of me. "

“ why ? ”

“ seeing you bent on your knees for me will make me sin. i wish you could see the kind of temptation you are. ”

you had arrived in front of a mansion. you were so flustered and nervous. you didn't understand what you were doing in front of this place, and why he had brought you here. he took your hand, reassuring you with his touch, and guided you inside.

you were not alone. there were other people, women and men. all dressed slightly the same, as if there was a regulation outfit. the atmosphere was strange, a little sectarian. there was an organ playing in the background, and everyone was looking at you kindly so you tried to relax.

"don't be afraid. they're like you, they just want to go to heaven. can you understand?"

you nodded and he showed you around all the places. he even showed you a room and said it would be yours. she was pretty, absolutely perfect but she wasn't yours. not that of your house.

"I'm not going home?..."

"what do you mean? this is your home now. we're a family."

"a family? i have parents, they will worry…”

"i thought you wanted to be close to God. were they lies? you know, you shouldn't joke with religion, and with words. if you want to be a good little christian, if you want to go to heaven, it is to me, and only to me, that you must be devoted.”

"I...I...no, i promise! I'm sincere! i'm sorry, really, I'm sorry. " you now felt terrible. there were so many tears in your eyes, you couldn't even see the room clearly.

the man smiled before taking you in his arms. "it's nothing, you just need to be clearer with your words, okay? I'm your only savior, you don't need others.”

he had wiped the tears from your cheeks. “I have a gift for you…” he whispered and you found your smile again.

no one ever gave you gifts. it was so rare. “open it” he told you.

it was a dress. not the one you usually wore. “you have to put it on. don't you want to shine, shooting star ? ”

" now ? "

"now." his voice was a little firmer.

“i can’t change in front of you…” you admitted. "you're a man...and I'm a girl...it's sinful, it's like having sex! we have to get married to have that intimacy. "

he smiled and laughed. "you've never been naked in front of someone? you've never left this body in front of someone else?"

he had approached, slipping up behind you, towering over you with his height, his hands resting on the corners of your trembling shoulders.

“my sweet thing, it’s as if you’re begging me to corrupt you.”

“what do you mean?”

“that i must see this body.”

" Is it bad?"

“What would be bad, angel, would be to upset me.”

he had pulled the tab of your dress to lower it a little. there were shivers in your body. you felt like you were doing something wrong.

"you're not doing anything wrong. this is what god wants you to do. he told me."

" It's true ? "

“ only the truth. just now. i wouldn't dare lying to you, my sweet. ”

there was nothing you could refuse god. If it were his will, you would do anything.

"but I've never done anything like that? I always thought it was wrong, that I didn't have the right."

he pulled your dress down to the floor, your naked body revealed in the mirror. you could feel his gaze growing more intense as he took in everything you had shown him. "is my body okay? I mean, this is the first time anyone has seen it so..."

"sweetheart, I've never seen anything so beautiful. but I don't just have to see it to judge it, I have to touch it. will you let me ? "

“Lust is a sin.”

“do you want to know my name?”

you had just now realized that you didn't even know his identity. you nodded your head.

“rafe.” he spelled it. “ you must know my name to pray for me, but also to glorify me.”

“glorify ?”

"you must glorify me. salute me and worship me. these are the rules if you want to go to heaven. you must be devoted, I told you.."

" fine…”

he sat on the bed, and you moved closer but he stopped you.

"no, no. all this sweetness but no useful brain ? ” he mocked. “ to worship me, you must be on your knees. ” he said, crossing his arms on his chest.

“ treat me as the same way you treat your god, angel. because this is what i am to you. i want to see your legs bow down for me, i want to see them treading the ground up to me. i want to see that precious look at the same height of my knees, let me see that head lifted up to glory me. "

he had lit a cigarette, the fourth since you had spoken, and had smiled when you started walking on your knees towards him.

he pressed his hand against the growing bulge in his pants.

“open your mouth.” he commanded and you obeyed, and he slipped his cigarette between your lips. “don’t smoke it, hold it only. don't go against my rules. can i trust this dumb baby brain for once to not disappoint me ? ”

he had taken off his pants, with his boxers. and you turned your head, strongly ashamed by his action.

he mocked gently. “in your place, i would not look away, that would avoid unpleasant surprises when this thing will be buried inside your virgin cunt, sweetheart. ”

he had retrieved his cigarette, and turned your head towards him.

"I can't believe you've never seen one. you've been such a good girl to me. you've been waiting for me. "

“will god hate me?”

“how can i show it to you?”

"it's not god you have to fear, it's me, sweetheart because I'm the only one who will decide for you from now on. do you understand? I have to be sure that you are deserving."

“give me your hand. let me guide you...do you trust me? ”

“ i trust you, rafe. ”

he had positioned your hand on his cock which was already hard. you shivered. your hand was clumsy around his painfully boner. yet you had heard him let out a grunt.

his fingers moved with yours, accompanying you in his lewd movements. you had god in your head, heart and body but your fingers fisted around that thick dick made you warm and good. you hated that feeling, but you can't deny the pleasure. it was the first time. you weren't used to it. you moved back and forth with little confidence, while he kept your grip around his bulge. you followed his back and forth, pumping him with fragility. you weren't sure if it felt good but his muscles had tightened.

your fist slid over his length, your hand working massively. your touch was divine, he threw his head back. you could feel his abs twitching in synch.

“open those legs. let me see that sweet untouched pussy. i'm gonna take such good care of it. are you still trusting me ? ”

“ yes…”

you didn't want to. it flowed between your thighs, the wetness spurted in a mess on the floor. and you weren't sure if that was a good thing. you couldn't tell if it was pleasure or not. it was new to you.

“trust me, you don’t want to make me repeat that a second time. do you ? ”

and that was enough for you to bend to his will.

"you feel, baby ? the sweet mess between your legs ? don't hide from me. ”

you continued to masturbate him up and down. you turned him on so much that he already wanted to come in your hand. his cock twitched in your hold and his balls slapped repeatedly against his skin.

"does that make you feel good? do I need to do better? do you want me to put my lips on..."

he had cum on your face. and you stepped back in surprise. “let me clean you up…”

you came back to him thinking he was going to wipe you but he caught his seed with his fingers, and brought them to your mouth. “if you don’t want me to put them down your throat, you better lick them now.”

you lapped up every last bit of cum on his fingers until they turned white again. you knew he was serious when he threatened you. "that wasn't really a warning, I'll do it someday. I really want to use every part of your body. and you'll let me. yes ?”

“whatever you want...”

he smiled and stroked your hair. “you learn quickly.”

you didn’t really know why but his recognition made you happy. she had an impact on you. you needed, and sought, his validation. it promised you to be even closer to god, to show god that you were faithful to him.

you had this urgency to please rafe, to show him that you could be really good.

for rafe, you were another girl that he led into his cult, another lamb in the troop. you were perfect, you always had the profile. he knew it as soon as he saw you.

he had come to the church only to see you. he attended every mass and ceremony hoping to corrupt you. you were so innocent, so kind and so sweet, and above all, you were ready for anything.

you prayed every day and read the Bible. so you had a desire, a goal, a faith.

he had placed you on his legs, his hands caging your waist, wrapping each part of your hips. “I’m going to make you an angel.” he had said, rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet entrance.

“I’m going to go to heaven?”

"it's heaven that will beg for you to come to it, I can even say. but you still have to do one thing for me..."

“tell me. I’ll do anything.”

" good. i really want you to take that dick. show me how much you want to reach eden, i want to see god in you when i'm fucking you. i want to hear prayers in that mouth for how i make you feel, how perfect i am to you and that sweet cunt of yours.”

you rubbed your dripping pussy against his cock, feeling the feverish, leaking tip against your slick folds. you had gently entered him between your impenetrable walls until now, letting out a long and loud moan when you felt his dick getting even harder inside you. It took you several bounces on his thighs to get used to, your pussy stretching around him. you could feel every inch of his length filling your canal but also widening it.

his large hands covered your ass, gripping the gummy flesh of your cheeks, his body moving and following your movements. he had grabbed your face to force a kiss from your already open lips, sliding his tongue against yours. a drool dripped from your jaw, as your pelt slammed and bounced violently against his. your hands were around his neck, trying to keep up the pace.

seeing you struggling and jiggling, he laughed. “even if you had prayers, you couldn’t even say them, too fucking dumb for that shit, right now ? ”

and it was true, you weren't even able to say a word without gurgling. you had tears streaming down your face, your moans were locked against rafe's glossy and pretty mouth, and you were trying hard to take his big cock as best you could. his dick was stuck between your sticky walls, your breasts hitting her toned chest.

“keep going, you’re perfect…” his smile was evil because it motivated you.

you were riding him without even being able to think. you were a fragile little thing doing bad things with a bad guy.

but you wanted to please him. you wanted rafe cameron to think you were good and deserving. you wanted to go to heaven, so you did your best.

and he knew it. you had broken your purity for him.

you were convinced to do something right, convinced that god saw you and that he would be proud to see you so devoted to him.

you didn’t see the harm. you were an angel and you let a demon corrupt you.

you had succumbed to man and his vices, you had let sin enter into you, and let it do you good.

rafe knew what he was doing. you had been his prey. and he couldn't wait to see you at his feet, to make you his perfect doll that he could handle so easily.

because it was only the beginning before you were completely his, completely in control of you, choosing what you eat, what you want, what you wear, what you think.

you were his and his only.

you were his nice girl, not god's one, the one who smiled at everyone, who always prayed in the church pews, who helped those most in need.

he had found you and snatched you from god. because it wasn't him to whom you owed your life. you were wrong and he had to correct that.

you were an angel, and he loved seeing you cry for him. your tears was made for being looked by his ocean eyes, to felt loved by his kisses.

he was completely buried inside you, plunged so deep that you were completely dizzy. and every time you thought he couldn't go any further, he surprised you. you were pretty sure he could put a baby inside you right now, just from the way his cock thrusted inside you, invading your shaking body.

you had squirted and cried, accompanying your tears with apologies. "you're fine. it's just means you liked it. it will also happen to me, angel. don't worry.”

the more he called you angel, the more you began to believe that you were one. you had squirted again but now you weren't scared anymore because he had reassured you. you had been afraid that it would be a disgusting thing and that he wouldn’t want you anymore.

but it was so strange. he was both gentle and cold.

“stop...I’m going to be pregnant!”

"that's not how it works...but if that's what you want, I can take care of it...whatever the angel wants.”

after that day, your life had been totally different, completely transformed by rafe.

you were part of this community now. you were all brothers and sisters, united for a common goal. you always prayed. but above all, you were completely manipulated. you were so controlled that you forgot your family, your friends, your entourage, your involvement in church. only god remained with you. he was still there.

you wore the outfits rafe wanted you to wear, you ate the food he wanted, you only talked about topics he allowed, you became someone else. you were what he wanted you to be.

but one night you heard god. you were sure it was his voice in the darkness. you were sleeping in rafe cameron’s arms, his bicep resting on your stomach. it was strange to see him sleeping like a child when he behaved like that.

you had begun to follow god’s voice in the darkness, your feet pacing and pacing through the empty hallways. the light guided you, it was he who accompanied you. he pulled you out, into the huge garden.

“do you think you can leave? do you think you can leave me ? are you that fucking dumb ? ”

Rafe’s voice made you jump. you weren't sure if you woke him up because you were a quiet person. but now he was in front of you, and he really didn't look very happy.

"I have to leave..."

“I’m afraid you can’t.”

“god spoke to me.”

"oh really? god may be talking to you but you need to listen to me. aren't you grateful for the life i gave you? didn't you want to be good? you're tear up your ticket to paradise. just bury yourself alive at this point."

tears had started to fall down your cheeks. you felt trapped because you didn't know who to listen to. god or this man?

your feet moved towards rafe. as you approached, his arms stretched out as if to reassure you.

“i’m sorry….i'm really sorry…..”

“i know you are but you also know that it’s not enough.”

“so tell me what i need to do to be good enough? ”

“you must sacrifice yourself. ” he said with that deep serious tone.

you looked at him with fear. you couldn't kill yourself.

“ i can’t kill myself, rafe…”

“i know, angel but don't worry, i will. ”

“ what do you mean ? i always did what you wanted me to do, i always been so good to you, i never be against you and your rules ! you promised me heaven, you promised me....everything. was that a lie ? you 'ever be serious to me ? answer me...never ? rafe, i was all what you wanted me to be, even that was not enough for you ? ”

“ i really wish you were. any last word, baby? ”

“ can you at least shoot me in the heart ? ”

“ tell me why...”

“ it's the last part of me you never took away from me. but now that i will die, you can take it. it's all yours. ”

[inhonoredglory]

Aziraphale’s Choice, the Job Connection, and Michael Sheen’s Morality

Update: Michael Sheen liked this post on Twitter, so I'm fairly certain there is a lot of validity to it.

I’ve had time to process Aziraphale’s choice at the end of Season 2. And I think only blaming the religious trauma misses something important in Aziraphale’s character. I think what happened was also Aziraphale’s own conscious choice––as a growth from his trauma, in fact. Hear me out.

Since November 2022 I’ve been haunted by something Michael Sheen said at the MCM London Comic Con. At the Q&A, someone asked him about which fantasy creature he enjoyed playing most and Michael (bless him, truly) veered on a tangent about angels and goodness and how, specifically,

We as a society tend to sort of undervalue goodness. It’s sort of seen as sort of somehow weak and a bit nimby and “oh it’s nice.” And I think to be good takes enormous reserves of courage and stamina. I mean, you have to look the dark in the face to be truly good and to be truly of the light…. The idea that goodness is somehow lesser and less interesting and not as kind of muscular and as passionate and as fierce as evil somehow and darkness, I think is nonsense. The idea of being able to portray an angel, a being of love. I love seeing the things people have put online about angels being ferocious creatures, and I love that. I think that’s a really good representation of what goodness can be, what it should be, I suppose.

I was looking forward to BAMF!Aziraphale all season long, and I think that’s what we got in the end. Remember Neil said that the Job minisode was important for Aziraphale’s story. Remember how Aziraphale sat on that rock and reconciled to himself that he MUST go to Hell, because he lied and thwarted the will of God. He believed that––truly, honestly, with the faith of a child, but the bravery of a soldier.

Aziraphale, a being of love with more goodness than all of Heaven combined, believed he needed to walk through the Gates of Hell because it was the Right Thing to do. (Like Job, he didn’t understand his sin but believed he needed to sacrifice his happiness to do the Right Thing.)

That’s why we saw Aziraphale as a soldier this season: the bookshop battle, the halo. But yes, the ending as well.

Because Aziraphale never wanted to go to Heaven, and he never wanted to go there without Crowley.

But it was Crowley who taught him that he could, even SHOULD, act when his moral heart told him something was wrong. While Crowley was willing to run away and let the world burn, it was Aziraphale (in that bandstand at the end of the world) who stood his ground and said No. We can make a difference. We can save everyone.

And Aziraphale knew he could not give up the ace up his sleeve (his position as an angel) to talk to God and make them see the truth in his heart.

I was messed up by Ineffable Bureaucracy (Boxfly) getting their happy ending when our Ineffable Husbands didn’t, but I see now that them running away served to prove something to Aziraphale. (And I am fully convinced that Gabriel and Beelzebub saw the example of the Ineffables at the Not-pocalypse and took inspiration from them for choosing to ditch their respective sides)

But my point is that Aziraphale saw them, and in some ways, they looked like him and Crowley. And he saw how Gabriel, the biggest bully in Heaven, was also like him in a way (a being capable of love) and also just a child when he wasn’t influenced by the poison of Heaven. Muriel, too, wasn’t a bad person. The Metatron also seemed to have grown more flexible with his morality (from Aziraphale's perspective). Like Earth, Heaven was shades of (light?) gray.

Aziraphale is too good an angel not to believe in hope. Or forgiveness (something he’s very good at it).

Aziraphale has been scarred by Heaven all his life. But with the cracks in Heaven’s armor (cracks he and Crowley helped create), Aziraphale is seeing something else. A chance to change them. They did terrible things to him, but he is better than them, and because of Crowley, he feels ready to face them.

(Will it work? Can Heaven change, institutionally? Probably not, but I can't blame Aziraphale for trying.)

At the cafe, the Metatron said something big was coming in the Great Plan. Aziraphale knows how trapped he had felt when he didn’t have God’s ear the first time something huge happened in the Big Plan. He can’t take a chance again to risk the world by not having a foot in the door of Heaven. That’s why we saw individual human deaths (or the threat of death) so much more this season: Elspeth, Wee Morag, Job’s children, the 1940s magician. Aziraphale almost killed a child when he couldn’t get through to God, and he’s not going through that again.

“We could make a difference.” We could save everyone.

Remember what Michael Sheen said about courage and doing good––and having to “look the dark in the face to be truly good.” That’s what happened when Aziraphale was willing to go to Hell for his actions. That’s what happened when he decided he had to go to Heaven, where he had been abused and belittled and made to feel small. He decided to willingly go into the Lion’s Den, to face his abusers and his anxiety, to make them better so that they would not try to destroy the world again.

Him, just one angel. He needed Crowley to be there with him, to help him be brave, to ask the questions that Heaven needed to hear, to tell them God was wrong. Crowley is the inspiration that drives Aziraphale’s change, Crowley is the engine that fuels Aziraphale’s courage.

But then Crowley tells him that going to Heaven is stupid. That they don’t need Heaven. And he’s right. Aziraphale knows he’s right.

Aziraphale doesn’t need Heaven; Heaven needs him. They just don’t know how much they need him, or how much humanity needs him there, too. (If everyone who ran for office was corrupt, how can the system change?)

Terry Pratchett (in the Discworld book, Small Gods) is scathing of God, organized religion, and the corrupt people religion empowers, but he is sympathetic to the individual who has real, pure faith and a good heart. In fact, the everyman protagonist of Small Gods is a better person than the god he serves, and in the end, he ends up changing the church to be better, more open-minded, and more humanist than god could ever do alone.

Aziraphale is willing to go to the darkest places to do the Right Thing, and Heaven is no exception. When Crowley says that Heaven is toxic, that’s exactly why Aziraphale knows he needs to go there. “You’re exactly is different from my exactly.”

____

In the aftermath of Trump's election in the US, Brexit happened in 2018. Michael Sheen felt compelled to figure out what was going on in his country after this shock. But he was living in Los Angeles with Sarah Silverman at the time, and she also wanted to become more politically active in the US.

Sheen: “I felt a responsibility to do something, but it [meant] coming back [to Britain] – which was difficult for us, because we were very important to each other. But we both acknowledge that each of us had to do what we needed to do.” In the end, they split up and Michael moved back to the UK.

Sometimes doing the Right Thing means sacrificing your own happiness. Sometimes it means going to Hell. Sometimes it means going to Heaven. Sometimes it means losing a relationship.

And that’s why what happened in the end was so difficult for Aziraphale. Because he loves Crowley desperately. He wants to be together. He wanted that kiss for thousands of years. He knows that taking command of Heaven means they would never again have to bow to the demands of a God they couldn’t understand, or run from a Hell who still came after them. They could change the rules of the game.

And he’s still going to do that. But it hurts him that he has to do that alone.

[rxmye]

" 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — pristine and perfect, filled with grace and elegance, yet tainted with greed . . greed for you . .

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / slight religious themes?, I suppose it's a fictional religion, I'm still world-building / pathetic and submissive yandere / suggestive content? / he paints the reader as a source of comfort / stalking, which is conveniently described as 'adorable' and 'innocent' behavior /

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: ok so the person mentioned is supposed to be the God of this world, their introduction will also be out soon enough . . currently dropping hints here because world-building fun!!

Takamoto was an Arch-angel, one of the highest ranked angels in heaven—he was pure and truly the definition of elegance, he was never greedy, and he was almost always seen smiling or happy. For he, was truly contempt with his life, and position.

Takamoto was always someone who had truly been satisfied with all that he was given, he never craved more—he always thought and frankly believed, that he had received all that he deserved and that he should be contempt with what he has. He never really had any passion or desire for anything more—he was grateful with everything—he believed all his hardships had reasoning behind it, and that it will all eventually be solved. In fact a part of him believed he deserved any hardship he came by.

Many would believe he was naive for that sort of mindset, and many angels did truly believe him to be just that, yet against all odds he rose up the ranks fairly quickly for this sort of mindset, and of course his loyalty to his beliefs. Takamoto was sweet, he'd help everyone out, and would introduce new souls, and angels throughout the lands of heaven on his free time, he'd help guide souls and his fellow angels everywhere he could . . yet things slowly changed when he first met you . .

Takamoto was visiting, what could only be described as the countryside of heaven, with vast green fields, cozy homes, acres of farmland, etc . . He was checking in for this years harvest, as per high courts orders . . when he saw you, you were so graceful, your wings sparkled in the light, you were radiant, you're eyes glimmered as both of your eyes met for a brief moment . . he felt his heart skip a beat. . his face was heating up slightly, his face dusted with shades of bright pink.

His mouth hung slightly open, as his gaze lingered on you figure, taking in the sight—your wings were lovely, much smaller than his . . were you a new soul? Perhaps you were a lower ranked angel and hence why you both never quite met . . He wanted to know more about you—he need to know more about you—where were you going? . . . and before he knew it, he found himself following you, trailing behind you silently.

He found himself frequenting areas he last saw you, it was all so innocent at first, many of his fellow coworkers described him as a young schoolboy in love, teasing him for his oh so adorable behavior . .

Takamoto didn't notice how much you were invading his life, he hadn't even been able to hold a proper sentence with you yet . . . but even then his thoughts consumed of you, whenever he did paperwork, he'd doodle your face, his room was filled with various portraits of you . .

He found himself overtime growing desperate, impure thoughts flooding his mind, greed sinking its claws into his sensitive and naive hurt—he was the utter picture of perfection, just look at him, he was everything an angel . . a human, anyone should be!?!? Why aren't you looking his way!— . . he took deep breaths, his own fingers digging into his skin, as he tried calming himself.

Gold drips from his arm, the bruise left from his fingers still fresh—golden blood stained his pretty pale fingers—pupils dilating as he took deep breaths, a ruined portrait of your face on the aisle, paint splatters surrounded him, tainting his legs, as a mirror lay broken on the floor.

"Fuck", he cussed softly, tears threatening to spill, his usually well-kept hair was a mess . . "why can't I draw them . . ?", he asked, his voice hoarse, as he tried his best to contain the anger he felt at that moment, "why can't I fucking draw them??", his nails dig into the floor, as the door creaked open.

You need to love him, you need to see him. He had never craved someone's validation, he deserved this, he deserved you! He could offer you everything, he was perfect! Everyone he knows, envied that about him . . surely you'd notice, you have too . .

He turned to face the person at the door, tears now dripping down his cheek, he mumbled something under his breath, before he started begging, "Please, please, help me . . my lord"

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[shomixremix]

THE ALTAR OF ADORATION ♥︎

recently i've been getting more and more into my zhongli brainrot (even though he's been one of my fav characters since forever lol) so here you all go!!

oh also tysm for over 1k notes, 100+ reblogs and 50 new followers!! you guys are the best <3 i really didn't expect that kind of support on my last post - turns out everyone likes some dragon men!! so i decided to write some more, here you lovelies go!!

tags: Zhongli, female! reader, dragon! zhongli, religious themes, sacrificial offering, smut, fluff, mating, breeding, creampie, monsterfucking

-> you have been chosen as a sacrifice to the great geo lord rex lapis, during a period where everyone believed he was mad at mortals. scared for your life and trembling, you now realize there was another problem troubling lord morax.

reqs open ♡︎ | minors DNI

great lord rex lapis roamed the earths and heavens for centuries, ruling the land of geo and its people through the thick and thin. they were very devoted followers, obeying his every wish.

however, the height of his reign has long passed, and people simply stopped caring about their archon. until recently.

crops began to wither, mines dried out, contracts were getting broken left and right - rex lapis has had enough of their careless behavior. his people have disappointed him, and this was a sign of his fury. if something wasn't to change, he would abandon them completely.

the people of liyue decided to recommit to their religion, prepared to offer the geo lord a sacrifice of any kind, just so he'd once again bless them. you, even though born in a time where people lost their respect for the geo lord, have always been a devoted follower, praying to him each day and leaving flowers and beautiful crystals under his statue of the seven.

already being a believer of the geo archon, you were chosen as the ceremonial sacrifice.

while nobody knew where rex lapis resided, the site of the ceremony was chosen to be on mt. hulao. as the crowds of people gathered from all over liyue around the lake on the top of the mountain, you stood in front of them, shaking. while you were a follower of morax, you didn't feel it was right to die for the sins of your people.

"it's time to pay our sacrifise!" yelled one of the townsfolk, holding your wrist in an iron grip as he he slit your palm with a sharp knife. you screamed out in pain as maroon blood dripped down your hand. the man who slit your hand placed a valuable cor lapis stone in it, watching as the orange stone quickly became stained with your red blood.

you held your breath as they placed you on the highest point of the mountain and pushed you off, chanting morax's name over and over.

falling seemed to last centuries, even though it was just seconds. you waited and waited for your body to hit the ground, tightening your hold on the cor lapis and in your head praying:

"rex lapis, if you're here, if you hear my prayer, please, i beg you, save me!"

suddenly, your feel onto something, tightly closing your eyes. was this... death?

you open your eyes and realize this wasn't any kind of afterlife - in fact, you were very much still alive, spread on top of the back of a large dragon. your mortality was confirmed by the sharp pain you still felt in your left hand.

"..r-rex l-lapis..?"

the dragon stayed quiet as you clutched his mane, holding on to him for dear life. he only let you get down once you were inside a large cave, seeming like it wasn't a part of the human world - no, this had to be an adepti realm.

an uneducated mortal maybe wouldn't be certain just who was standing between them, but you knew oh so very well. his goldenish brown scales, the big, honey-colored eyes and the tail which ended in a mosaic of clouds all gave him away. standing before you was the geo archon, the adeptus who saved your life even though you were a peace offering.

he stayed quiet, removing you from his back like it was nothing and moving to a completely different side of the cave, laying down on the cold ground with his back turned to you.

he was in no mood to talk, you knew, but you had to thank him for saving your life.

"lord morax..?"

he grumbled in response, steam coming out of his large nostrils.

"i cinserely thank you for saving my life... i was supposed to be a mere sacrifise, yet you still showed me mercy.. i.. just, thank you so much.."

the second the word "sacrifise" leaves your lips rex lapis perks up, turning to you with frantic eyes. he grabs your hand to inspect the still slightly bleeding cut, tearing a piece of your skirt to wrap around your wound as a bandage. morax tightly ties it, then quickly moves from you.

"it should stop the bleeding," he grumbled low, never turning to look at you, almost as if he was completely uninterested, "i will bring you to the villege tomorrow, little mortal. now sleep. your body needs rest"

how could you rest after such a traumatic experience? after almost having your life, all your hopes and dreams, unfairly thorn from you?

"no, i.. i can't return! they will all know that i failed, that i wasn't the sacrifise they all needed to save liyue from your punishment!"

morax huffs, his tail hitting the ground with a loud thump.

"then you can tell them all that i do not wish for a sacrifise. spilling innocent human blood is not only unecessary but also completely repulsive to me."

your eyes widen as he says this, your body instinctively moving a little closer to him: "you.. do not wish for a sacrifise, my lord? then how should we repay you for our sins? how can we ever make you forgive us for losing our faith in you..?"

rex lapis growls lowly, his body tightening like he was in some kind of discomfort or pain.

"the lack of my blessing isn't for the reasons your kind believes," he growled, "i'm not upset at you humans. now sleep." you knew well that that was an order, and an order coming from an archon must always be obeyed. yet, you didn't, scooting closer to him.

"the only thing to be upset about is that they sent you as the offering. how unfair it is to send one of my most devoted followers to die for my amusement.."

you hold your breath, afraid that he was actually considering killing you.

"i've recieved all the little treasures you leave out for me and have heard your every word. you're a persistant little one, aren't you?" even though you couldn't see him, you could feel the smirk on his face.

the knowledge that he has seen and heard how you worship him makes your heart thump loudly in your chest, a pool of pride and flusterness swirling in your belly.

suddenly, morax smells the air sharply, then started writhing on the ground in pain, cursing out a deep yet broken"fuck..!".

"are you in pain, my lord? can i do something to help?" you ask eagerly, wishing to help your saviour.

"move away!" he roared, steam coming out of his mouth. "go to sleep and stop talking to me when i ask, mortal!"

you frigtenedly to as told, laying down on the ground and turning away from him, squeezing your eyes shut. suddenly, you hear little muffled whines and cries coming from him, which immediately makes you look at him again.

his large head is completely flushed red, his lungs heaving up and down quickly. he panted out short little puffs of air, his eyes bloodshot ready and his body trembling slightly. you didn't know what was wrong with him, he acted like some kind of a wild animal in a rut-

"lord morax, are you.. in a rut..?" it was a shameful question to ask the archon, yet your curiosity got the better of you.

he huffed out, more and more in pain with every passing minute. "i haven't... hah... i haven't been in centuries... it's inevitable i go through it every couple of hundred years..."

morax groans, visibly in a lot of discomfort.

"and of course that when i'm in a rut they just have to send me a gorgeous woman as a sacrifice to worsen my state..."

your cheeks darken as he murmurs this, blood rushing to your head.

"how do i worsen your state..?"

"your arousal" he rasps, "i can smell it, little mortal. i can smell you, and it's torture. it pains every muscle in my body to resist you, but i have to; it's my duty"

your heart aches at his words.

"i can help" you breathe, unsure what you were even offering. his sharp eyes turn to you, piercing you with his gaze.

"no", his answer is short but stern, "i could kill you, i could harm you and leave you not remembering your own name. i cannot do that to my most devoted follower. not to you, y/n"

your heart stops, dropping to your feet.

"how do you know my name...?"

he groans as he explains: "i often wander around the mortal world in my human form, to feel closer to your kind... i have met you a couple of times during your prayer at the statue of the seven. i cannot use your pure body to breed when i know how much respect and hope you have in me. it would be betrayal to you, and you would never see me, nor my human form, the same"

"it pains me to see my archon in pain" you whisper as you get closer to the large dragon, your stomach stirring. you gently touch the scales down his back and feel how he shivers under your touches.

"i want... i want to help you, if i can... i want to help you through this.. you have helped me through the darkest points in my life, and even though i don't know who your human form is, i have a feeling i'm close to you even then... i just desire to help you, lord morax..."

"do you even understand what kind of help i need? what i will do to you if you allow me?"

you smile, running your hands through his shiny mane.

"yes, i understand. use me however you like, my lord."

his self control snaps, big paws pinning you down on the ground. he's panting like a dog as he nuzzles his head against your neck, tearing the rest of your skirt off. only left in a pair of underwear and a thin shirt, you tremble under the archon's touches.

"hm.. such a beautiful mortal..." he hums as he tears the rest of your cloth from your body, leaving you completely bare. you try to cover yourself with your arms, yet morax grabs them and pins them by your sides.

his large mouth comes in contact with your skin, licking, kissing and biting as he moved down. morax grazes your skin with his teeth, never biting down hard enough to draw blood from your veins. you had already done your sacrifice, more blood wasn't needed. his tounge moves from your neck to your exposed breast, swirling around your hard nipples, earning a little whimper from you.

then, he moves even lower, nipping at your stomach. he forces your tighs apart, burying his large head to your folds and forcing you to hold on to him by his horns. rex lapis tastes you eagerly, lapping up any slick your body oh so willingly gave him. you moaned and whined as he fucked you with his tounge, making you come almost instantly.

"ohhhh!! m-morax~ ahh..." you moan as he helps you through it, sharply tugging on your sensitive clit with his sharp teeth, always careful not to hurt you.

"celestia" he sighs into your slick folds, earning a tremble from you. "you taste devine, my dear. i haven't enjoyed such a sweet taste in centuries"

he shows you no mercy and continues to eat you out as if you were his last meal, one paw holding down your wrists and the other secured on your hips, not allowing you to move at all. after about three delicious highs he pulls from your frail body with his tounge, you start begging for the real thing. you knew his rut wouldn't be over unless he fucked you, and you were kinda hoping this torterous foreplay would be over soon...

"m-morax... please.." you whimper, squeezing your legs around his snout. he grumbles low, giving one final lick to your greedy pussy.

"i have to loosen you as much as possible so you could even try to take me. preperations can take up to days."

your eyes open wide and your mouth partens. you couldn't wait days to get him to fuck you, and you certainly didn't know how you'd survive days worth of eating out!

"but i cannot wait that long" he smirks, rubbing your outter tighs and ass. in one swift motion he flips you over so you were on your knees, face down and ass up. you feel his length rubbing up on you; even though you couldn't see him, your eyes went wide in shock. you felt how impossibly large he was, both in size and girth, almost being comparable to your legs.

but another thing surprises you - the head of his cock is poking at your tight entrance, but another thing is poking at your ass! you turn your head in shock, and he reassures you.

"i am different than a mortal, my dear"

you let out a loud scream of his name as he harshly thrusts both of his heavy cocks into you. he thrusts as far as he can, entering your cushy womb from how big he is and almost ripping your ass apart. you scream and cry and writhe yet he doesn't budge, letting you get used to him inside you for a few moments before he starts thrusting.

he starts moving without a warning, dragging you back on his cocks. you turn into a sobbing mess as each one of his thrusts so pleasantly tease your g-spot, bullying your tight walls.

"ahh.. ahhh! mphhh! mmphshs! m- mor... ah! ohhh!"

you cry and cry, not even knowing your own name out of so much pleasure. you feel like your holes are completely loose and yet, clamping down on him greedily. he tugs your head back by your hair, snuggling his nuzzle in your neck so you'd hear him better.

"shh, don't cry... you've asked me for this, little mortal. you asked to be fucked like this, hm? look at you, so pretty like this. so no need to cry, you will be fine. i allow you as much pleasure as you need. "

you couldn't stop yourself from coming, squirting your juices all over his cock. he watches this in amusement, fucking into you harder and faster. in one moment, he threw his head back in pleasure, making a loud roar.

"fuck, y/n..." he groaned as you hiccupped your sobs, finally giving a harsh, last thrust and stilling inside. you felt an impossible amount of warmth spread through your body as he filled you with seed, spilling a wave after wave of cum in your womb. he had filled you so much that it spilled from you, leaving you entirely breathless.

as soon as he's done he pulls out, letting you fall to the floor. he picks up your limp body, curling himself around you and cuddling you close.

"it's alright, my dear... you did perfect. you were just devine, and you've felt better than anything i've ever felt in all my years. rest, now. i will take care of the rest tomorrow."

your head hazy, your mind fuzzy with pleasure and your eyes heavy, you lay curled against him and finally get the much needed sleep.

the next morning, you wake up with a human, veined arm around your bare waist.

"there you are... you are too adorable in your sleep" a deep voice said from behind you, and you turned around, expecting to see the geo archon.

yet, you were faced with a man you knew all to well - the man you had deep feelings for ever since he first arrived in liyue harbour.

"mr. zhongli?!"

he hums out a laugh, tightening his hold on you.

"yes, if i'm correct, we've met in my human form a couple of times?"

you blush deeply, reminiscing on the few blissful times you talked to him. he was a very handsome, successful young man, with great wisdom and a clever mind - and you admired him very much, so much that you couldn't help but fall in love.

"you look dissapointed... are you not fond of me after finding out who i am?"

he asks, his gaze softening and looking almost saddened. you quickly reassure him:

"no, no, i'm not dissapointed! more like stunned.." you blush and he notices, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers.

"oh? why is that? i have always assumed we had a fairly good relationship, y/n. you have always been so nice to me"

"i.. i've had feelings for you for quite a while..." you say shyly, almost embarassed of the fact.

his lips curl into a genuinely happy smile, his arms pressing you closer to his bare chest.

"then everything turned out alright"

you smile, but everything suddenly dawns on you - that zhongli seemed to be okay with your feelings for him, that you almost died yesterday as a sacrifice, that zhongli is morax and most importantly, that oh, you fucked the geo archon, in his dragon form no less!

"am i pregnant now..?" you ask quietly, reminded that the act of a rut is mainly to breed and create off-spring. zhongli laughs at your question, leaving a quick peck on your forehead.

"no, most likely not. but you will be, in a few hundred years, once i have to go through this all over again" you almost choke on your own spit as he says this.

"but... i won't be alive in a few hundred years... you will have to find another to help you through this.."

as soon as you mention him sleeping with another woman his face turns into one of disgust, his strong arms gathering your entire body in his hold.

"as my mate, you will live as long as i do, and i'm immortal, my dear."

"your mate?!"

"yes. by helping me through my rut, you have become my mate. of course, only if that's what you wish" he says, pressing a loving kiss to your eyelid. "and do not worry, my dear, dragons mate for life"

he almost purrs into your warm skin, making a referance to what you said about him sleeping with another woman.

"...being your mate.." you sigh, cuddling into his chest.

"it's like what you humans call "relationship" except a stronger bond, sort of an unbreakable contract between the two of us. a forever promise of care, love and loyalty."

"i think i would like that" you humm into his chest, "but, let's take it a little slow?"

he kisses you full of warmth, his hands soothing your sides.

"of course, my dear. i will take you on a proper date when we get back. for now, just lay there and let me thank you properly for your help last evening..." he sighs as he kisses your shoulder over and over again.

yesterday at this time of day you were supposed to be nothing but a sacrifice to the geo lord, and now here you were, getting your body worshiped by him, forever safe and secure in his arms as his mate.

[milfsloverblog]

Deliver Us From Evil

Part 1 : Gluttony

Lucifer Morningstar x nun!reader

A/N: this has been eating at my brain for weeeeeeks and I just had to write it. Oh to be a nun getting tempted to sin by the one and only Morningstar…This is how I heal from my religious trauma ig. I hope you’ll enjoy this series as much as I do! <3

You remembered the first time you’d seen them as if it had happened yesterday.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven,” You whispered, hands clasped together and head hung low. 

The church still smelled of incense, a reminiscence of the mass that had just been conducted. The prayer bench was uncomfortably hard under your knees and a strand of hair had escaped from your veil. But still, nothing could have taken your attention away from your prayer. 

Click.

Clack.

“Give us this day our daily bread.” You kept whispering to yourself. 

Click.

Clack. 

Heels, a part of your brain thought as you tried your best to focus on your prayer. Not unusual, they were part of many women’s church outfits. Not yours, though. Never yours. 

Click-clack

Click-clack

The sounds were getting closer and closer by the second. Perhaps a worshipper who wanted to speak with you. They would have to wait. Just another minute. 

“And lead us not into temptation,” You continued. 

Click-clack. 

“But deliver us from evil.” 

The noise had suddenly stopped then. 

You lifted your head and brought your hand to your forehead to perform the sign of the cross, opening your eyes to look at the tall crucifix that was hanging from the wall, when you were met by a sight that made you gasp. 

Someone was standing there, towering over your prayer bench. You could hardly see their face as they stood against the light, the same light that illuminated the top of the stranger’s blonde hair and made it look like a halo. 

“Sister,” You heard them call you, their voice low and velvety. You could have sworn their lips hadn’t moved, but then again they were standing against the light.

“Sister!” Another voice came from behind you, a shrilling one that felt like a nail was being pushed against your eardrums and immediately made you turn around. 

“Mother Superior,” You quickly got up from your knees and lowered your head to look at your feet. 

“The afternoon lecture is about to start, you better hurry up if you don’t want to be late again.” The older woman said sternly. 

“Yes, Mother Superior. I apologise, I simply wanted to pray-“ 

The woman cut you off, waving her hand in front of her in dismissal. 

“You weren’t invited to speak back, sister.” 

You took a deep breath and clenched your jaws before giving a nod, only lifting your head when you heard the woman walk away. 

You quickly turned back around to apologise to the stranger but, to your surprise, they were gone. They hadn’t just walked away though, you would surely have heard that, they had simply vanished. 

You saw them again a few days later, standing at the back of the church during the Penitential Act. You had somehow felt their presence, looking over your shoulder to confirm that someone had been looking at you. No one else seemed to notice them, everyone probably too focused on the priest’s speech. You shook your head and looked back down at your feet. When you looked over your shoulder again a minute later, the space where the stranger had been standing was empty. 

And again, days later as you were doing the dishes after dinner. You had been left alone in the kitchen when you noticed the figure standing behind you in the reflection of the saucepan you were cleaning. You gasped loudly and let go of the pan, letting it clatter on the ground as you spun around. 

“Be not afraid,” the figure spoke, extending one of their arms towards you. Their voice was smooth like silk, the kind of voice that would have anyone believe anything it says. 

“How did you get in here? This part of the church is for the convent only.” You didn’t sound as harsh as you wished you had, but again you never really did. 

“Well, I can certainly go if you wish me to but…” the stranger stayed quiet for a few seconds before resuming. “I doubt you will ever be in the presence of an Angel again.” 

You were glad you hadn’t picked up another pan or plate for it would have surely joined the other one on the floor. 

“An Angel,” you whispered and it all suddenly made sense. The appearing and disappearing, the aura they seemed to carry around themselves. 

“Forgive me,” you quickly said as you dropped to your knees and looked down at the tiled floor. 

“You are forgiven.” The Angel spoke, walking closer to you until the tip of their shoes entered your visual field. “You mustn’t tell anyone about this, do you understand?” They spoke again, bending over the pick up the saucepan you had dropped. 

You got back on your feet and took the pan from their hands, giving a nod to acknowledge what they had just told you. You wanted to ask them so many things, why they were here and why they had chosen you but the sound of footsteps quickly approaching stopped you from doing so. The Angel pressed a finger against their mouth as a reminder for you to keep this encounter a secret, disappearing right as the mother superior stepped into the kitchen to berate you about your slowness. 

You didn’t see the angel again for a few days until one peculiar night. You had already said your prayers and were lying in bed reading a book by the candlelight when you felt the change of energy in the room. Slowly, you lowered your book, taking in the tall figure that was standing in the corner at the foot of your bed. 

“Angel,” you whispered as if scared to wake up the whole church. 

They walked around your bed and sat down as you pulled your legs against your chest. 

“I brought you a present,” the Angel's lips spread in a smile as they handed you something wrapped in golden foil. 

“Chocolate?” You asked as your fingers mindlessly wrapped themselves around the treat. 

“Dark, with a subtle hint of sea salt.” They answered, making you salivate at the thought of it.

Slowly, carefully, you opened the foil and licked your lips at the sight of the chocolate bar. 

Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation.

“I shouldn’t,” you said. “I can’t. I should keep it and wait, so I can share it with my sisters.” 

“Don’t be foolish, little one.” The angel tutted, shaking their head a little and making their blonde curls bounce. “This is my gift to you, not the whole convent… You wouldn’t refuse an Angel’s gift, would you?” They said, standing up from your bed. 

“No! No, of course not!” You quickly answered, snapping the chocolate bar in two halves to prove your words. You snapped it again to detach a perfect square from the bar, bringing it to your lips and hesitating for a second before placing it inside your mouth. The chocolate tasted bitter and salty as it melted on your tongue, making you swirl it around to properly enjoy the taste. 

“What do you think?” The angel snapped you out of your thoughts, watching with hungry eyes as you swallowed their present. 

“It’s delicious,” you admitted in a whisper, silently thanking the dim light for hiding your blushing cheeks. 

“Have another piece,” the angel suggested, taking a step closer. 

“I really shouldn’t…” 

“Says who?” They smiled, gently taking the bar from your hands and snapping a piece off before holding it in front of your mouth. 

You knew what to do. You had gone through this dozens of times during the Eucharist. Holding the Angel’s gaze, you opened your lips, slightly sticking your tongue out to allow them to place the piece of chocolate on it. 

They watched your eyes fluttering shut as you savoured your first sin, making them smile proudly. With their thumb and index taking hold of your chin, the Angel made you look up at them once more. 

“Swallow.” They ordered, their eyes glistening with vice as you instantly did as you were told. 

“Thank you,” you said after a moment of silence. 

The Angel pushed a soft smile and let go of your chin. 

“I have to go now,” they said, their long fingers smoothing over their white robes. 

“Will you be back?” You couldn’t help yourself but ask. 

“Of course I will, there are so many things I have to teach you.” They smiled again, wider this time with their teeth on display. 

You wrapped the remaining chocolate pieces in the golden foil and hid them inside your bedside table before turning back to the angel, only to find them gone. But the knowledge that they’d be back helped you fall into a peaceful sleep. 

“Gluttony,” Lucifer whispered to themselves as their fingers danced over the open fire of the throne room. 

One down, they thought. Six to go. 

————————————————————————

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[vidavalor]

The *Original* Original Sin Theory or... why Aziraphale's "I forgive you"s really mean "forgive me" and just why he wants Crowley's absolution...

Will this break your heart in a good way and make the end of S2 hurt less? more? both? idk let's find out...

I want to talk about what the Before the Beginning scene does to the Eden scene and what all that suggests about Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship... because it might be enough to upend what we think this relationship is quite a bit, at least from Aziraphale's POV, if it goes in the direction that I think they are hinting at in S3, which I'm basing off of where they took it in S2 in these scenes.

This also contains an analysis of That Scene from 2.06 that ties into lots of other scenes and some other meta related to the show and it's a bit long-- like, the mother of all metas-- but there are pretty gifs and I brought snacks? Just letting you know it's a long post but tuck in with some tea if you're in the mood and thanks for reading. :)

Under the big cutty thing...

Before we get started, a couple of quick warnings: I curse a bit in here. It's in the show itself but just letting you know it's here a bit, too. I also mention *very* briefly suicide ideation in the characters and also very briefly (one sentence) Satan's mind-control of Crowley in S1 in a way that might be sensitive for a sexual assault survivor. There is general mention of religious trauma and abusive relationships (not Crowley & Aziraphale's relationship) all over this. If you are okay with the show, you should be more than fine reading this but just wanted to let you know up front. If you're okay with that, read on...

So, the Before the Beginning scene contains a twist, in that we learn that pre-Fall Crowley is naive to Heaven while Aziraphale is the one who is wary of it. This is especially interesting because, best we can tell, no angel has Fallen yet. There aren't *explicit* consequences for asking questions yet, as Crowley doesn't think it could get him into trouble to do so... but *Aziraphale* does. Heaven in S1 and S2 is shown to be basically a fascist state full of bullies jockeying for power where the ones on top dole out all sorts of abuses to maintain a sense of order among the rank and file. We see the emotional and even physical abuse they dole out to Aziraphale and how little they tolerate any sort of dissent, even from an archangel, based on what they ultimately do when Gabriel doesn't want to do arma-bloody-geddon anymore. Heaven is basically The Kremlin. Toe out of line and they'll toss you off a high-rise while telling everyone how sad it is that you recently had a spell of depression and heart troubles as a way of scaring everyone else into submission, right? What's surprising to us is that Aziraphale knows this *absolutely* Before the Beginning and he's terrified on Crowley's behalf, since this place functions as a kind of mafia state.

This implies something really kind of dark which is that Aziraphale knows enough to know how to toe a party line and keep quiet about any doubts he has. He knows how to survive in a way that then-innocent Crowley did not. He tries to tell Crowley that questioning things is going to get him angel-killed but Crowley has a faith in God that's different than Aziraphale's was even before the Earth was fully created. Crowley believed in Her more than Aziraphale does. He doesn't think anything will happen to him. Aziraphale knows what will and this implies knowledge of the abuse of the system and it completely changes our perspective of Aziraphale throughout the rest of the series. We often think of him as either willfully naive or just desperately optimistic regarding Heaven's goodness but, in reality, he's neither of those things. He's something else, entirely. His actions are not expressing naivete or desperate optimism or anything else.

They are expressions of guilt.

And the Eden scene tells us why he has that guilt.

The Eden scene introduces us to Crowley and Aziraphale and the series itself and it has Crowley posit the central question of the show regarding the nature of angels and demons:

Objectively, when you watch this scene, you think this is about the tempting of Eve and the flaming sword. It is... but it's also not *just* about that. Because Crowley and Aziraphale are watching Adam & Eve venture off beyond the Garden of Eden in this scene. They're still within view so the flaming sword situation happened a matter of minutes earlier. Yet, when Crowley posits that central question of which one of them actually did the good thing and which did the bad thing, Aziraphale reveals that it wouldn't be funny at all if what Crowley is saying (that Aziraphale actually did the bad thing) is true. He's distressed about it and so Crowley, somewhat dryly, reassures him that he's an angel so he couldn't have done the wrong thing. (Crowley, of course, being a literal former angel punished for doing the wrong thing lol and that being the joke but also in there is also the layer of Crowley genuinely liking Aziraphale and trying to tell him that it's all okay and meaning it.) Aziraphale is relieved and this is the key bit here-- he says oh good "because it's been bothering me."

The tone of this is that this central question of whether or not he did wrong or right by Crowley and whether or not Crowley was wrong or right in his actions *has been bothering* Aziraphale and he phrases it in a way that implies he's been losing angelic sleep (so to speak) about it for a little while now. If this was *just about Adam and Eve* then Aziraphale's reaction here makes absolutely no sense because the camera also then cuts in their conversation to in front of Crowley and Aziraphale *to show us Adam and Eve still visible in the near-distance* fighting off the lion with the flaming sword. They literally *just left* so how could Aziraphale be all in knots for awhile now over whether or not he made the wrong call? He's not. You can argue that his decision here in Eden to help Adam and Eve by giving them his flaming sword-- by standing up and doing something in the face of God to help out other beings he secretly thinks might have been treated unfairly-- *is a direct response to what he failed to do back in Before the Beginning*...

... which was to stand up for Crowley.

Meaning: Aziraphale doesn't need to see Heaven's files to find out what happened to Crowley when Crowley fell because he was there. S3 is going to be about preventing the Second Coming and so plot allusions to the crucification (which had its own Crowley & Aziraphale scene in S1) will likely abound. Aziraphale was there when Lucifer and The Gang were tossed out of Heaven. To be fair to Aziraphale, there is basically nothing he could have done to prevent this and the best possible situation is that he didn't even have the chance to. The worst possible situation is that he's literally Judas and sold Crowley out, out of fear of being tossed out of Heaven himself. I tend to think it's more that he just didn't stand up and say anything in support of Crowley to prevent himself from being seen as on the side of the eventual demons. Still, just as Crowley thinks the punishment for Adam and Eve was harsh, Aziraphale thought that asking questions and being curious wasn't enough to send Lucifer and everyone around him to Hell to be damned for all of eternity but it caused an obvious existential crisis in him that he still struggles to totally resolve.

If he disagreed with the decision to cast out the suggestion box-happy angels, he was as "bad" as they were. If he agreed with the decision, he was condemning them and that didn't seem angelic, either. How to be a good angel, which is the only thing he had ever tried to be or knew how to be? He did what he thought must be right-- to follow what the other, more powerful angels said the word of God was-- and if it was Her will, then it must be what was right, even if it was *extremely difficult* to see how this lovebug here was really an evil, demonic creature of Hell...

Not to mention that Aziraphale was in love with WhateverHeWasCalledPre-Crawly!Crowley. (We will just call him "Crowley" for this whole meta, because that is the name he chose for himself.) And maybe Angel!Crowley went after the more glamorous, daring guys. Heaven honestly seems like both a fascist state and high school at once (is there really a difference? lol). Crowley describes how he wound up falling in S1 as that he "hung out with the wrong crowd" and Aziraphale in Before the Beginning honestly seems like he's been flying around watching Crowley make stars for ages, trying to work up the nerve to or find an opportunity to introduce himself to the beautiful hot cool arty science-y guy who barely looks at him when his other option for a view are nebulas... or Benedict Cumberbatch's Lucifer/Satan, whose "stroke of demonic genius, dahling" bit in S1 and dark assault on his fave Crowley while Crowley was driving had a real "Angel!Crowley went for the bad boy who were so bad pre-Fall that they wound up fucking Satan afterwards and friend-zoned angels like Aziraphale" vibes. Alternatively, maybe he didn't totally? Before the Beginning seems to be the first time they met and maybe after that, Crowley and Aziraphale became close. It's just that Crowley canonically also wound up sitting at the cool kids' table because they were the only ones questioning things and he wound up damned for eternity for it and Aziraphale?

Aziraphale blames himself for it.

He has blamed himself for Crowley's Fall for six thousand years.

When they speak in Eden, Aziraphale is being confronted for the first time with what has come of his nebula-joyous, freshly baked blueberry muffin of an angel. He calls himself "Crawly" now-- or that's the name he's been given-- because who he was is dead. His eyes are yellow. He's now a snake. He's maybe a bit sarcastic, a bit dry, and a lot more guarded and aloof but Aziraphale sees flickers of Angel!Crowley in there. He's *kind* to Aziraphale. He's still inquisitive, in spite of it being what damned him to Hell. Aziraphale, God help him, is still wildly into him and, ugh, maybe even *more* so, in spite of everything.

And 'everything', for Aziraphale, includes Crowley being a demon being Aziraphale's fault.

They don't talk about it. Ever.

They don't talk about it because Aziraphale thinks that Crowley doesn't remember. Crowley's memory loss of a lot of his time pre-Fall is canon in S2-- something we, the audience, will need to understand the whole picture when/if we end up getting this revelation in S3 of Crowley's Fall and that Aziraphale feels he's at least partially responsible. What's even harder for Aziraphale is that because Crowley doesn't remember his time as an angel, he doesn't remember their full history together. He doesn't remember how they met and protecting Aziraphale from the first celestial shower and all the times they chatted after that and if they were in love back then, Crowley doesn't remember it. Eden then becomes, to Crowley, the first time they meet... but then look at how while Aziraphale seems to think that Crowley doesn't know him while Aziraphale knows Crowley-- the moment that he pauses so Crowley can introduce himself-- *Crowley* seems a little bemused. Why?

Because what Aziraphale has failed to consider is that the one memory that the demons are allowed to keep, most likely, is their Fall, which means that if Aziraphale was there when Crowley fell, Crowley actually *does* remember him. At minimum, he remembers Aziraphale being there and looking stricken by what was happening so even if he can't remember more than that, he knows he's safe with Aziraphale and that Aziraphale cared about him, which would explain why he risked going to talk to with him on the wall in Eden. He knows they were friends and that Aziraphale is good and he can trust him. It's also theoretically possible that if Crowley remembers his Fall and if Aziraphale was there, it's a trigger to him being able to remember all of his and Aziraphale's time before Crowley fell. Aziraphale might not know this and because these two idiots do not know how to talk-- and especially don't talk about this-- Crowley hasn't told him. In part because Crowley can't go back and he doesn't want them to dwell on Angel!Crowley when Crowley is who he is and if that's a demon, it's a demon, and the whole system can go fuck itself anyway, as far as Crowley's concerned.

Aziraphale, though, is still back on "it's my fault". He thinks he literally took goodness from the world; that he participated in the murder of his friend and the love of his life. He has never. In six. thousand. years. lol. told Crowley that he feels like this because he still thinks that Crowley doesn't remember Aziraphale betraying him and he is terrified that if he told Crowley he did-- if he told him that he was responsible, in part, for his Fall-- that Crowley would hate him and Crowley is Aziraphale's only friend in the universe and Aziraphale is madly in love with him. He couldn't bear the loss of him. He can handle their occasional spats and disagreements, knowing that Crowley always comes back, but this? If Crowley knew that his Fall was Aziraphale's fault? Aziraphale thinks Crowley wouldn't come back from that and he'd never see him again.

In reality? Crowley either already knows this and has the whole time or suspects it or if he found it out, would forgive Aziraphale for it. If he knows, he already has. His counter-argument is, like, what were you supposed to do to save me, exactly, angel? You alone versus all the hierarchy of Heaven and God Herself? I'm *glad* you didn't do something stupid and get yourself tossed into a pit of boiling sulphur. You don't deserve that.

Thing is, though, because they've never had this conversation because they DO NOT TALK lol, Aziraphale thinks he *does* deserve that. But look at what's happened since he made the decision not to save Crowley from falling...

...nothing.

Nothing has happened to Aziraphale. He didn't fall for it himself. He didn't fall for betraying the angel he loved and he wonders every. single. day. why he didn't and the only thing he can come up with is that he must have done the right thing. *It must be* that Crowley did the bad thing and Aziraphale did the good one because Crowley was damned to Hell for all of eternity and Aziraphale is still an angel of Heaven, six thousand years later. It's not for Aziraphale to question God. Her will is ineffable. It's ineffable because he cannot begin to understand how any of this can possibly be just and that just keeps happening over and over and over and over throughout the years to come in every situation he and Crowley find themselves in, from Job to The Flood to Wee Morag and Elspeth to Arma-bloody-geddon, right?

Aziraphale begins to lose count of how many times he's gone up against God at this point. Gives away his flaming sword to Adam and Eve. Saves as many as he could during The Flood-- *with* Crowley. (You know they did.) Lies to Gabriel's face in the eyes of God to save Job and Sitis' children... and learning that Falling was political, really, in the process. Nothing happened to Aziraphale for Job's kids. He suffered no consequence for lying to Heaven and God because Crowley was willing to lie for him-- to protect him from Falling, where Aziraphale couldn't protect Crowley himself ages before-- and nothing happened. Falling, suddenly, didn't seem totally God-ordained it it could be tossed aside by something as simple as having a demon just choose not to toss you to Satan. Crowley didn't take him to Hell because he didn't feel like Aziraphale belonged there. It wound up all entirely within Crowley's control, which then made Aziraphale begin to question if God was even really behind the Fall of Lucifer and the Gang or if it wasn't just the thugs in charge of Heaven who decided to toss them out... thoughts he was terrified to think and didn't dare voice aloud, at least not then.

In another era, Aziraphale and Crowley stood there together to witness the torture and murder of Jesus Christ in the name of God, in a parallel to the Fall. What happened to Jesus? He was betrayed by his closest friend, then tortured and murdered by those in the government who thought he posed a threat to social order. Heaven as Pontius Pilate. Aziraphale as a kind of Judas, in Aziraphale's mind, anyway.

Jesus as Crowley.

Time goes on and he and The Demon Crowley form friendship in their own right, regardless of what Crowley might remember from before his Fall. They form their Arrangement off of that and Aziraphale learns even more that, often, no one is really paying attention to what they do. That no one seems to notice if Crowley performs an angelic miracle or if Aziraphale performs what has become termed a 'demonic miracle'... because, really, *they're the same*, though that's not something Aziraphale can fully admit. He cannot allow himself to believe that demons *are angels* because if there's nothing different between demons and angels than Aziraphale doesn't know anything at all.

Anything at all... He doesn't know what being an angel *is* and it's what he supposedly is so it means he doesn't know who or what he is, really.

He doesn't know what God wants or if he truly believes in Her.

He doesn't know what the purpose of all of this is-- why Crowley had to suffer, why demons in general have to, why the *humans* do. Why it all has to be destroyed eventually. To what end?

Aziraphale has the same questions Crowley does and sometimes, late at night, often a little drunk, he'll dare to ask them with Crowley, and every morning that he still wakes up and sobers up and finds himself still an angel when Crowley Fell for so much less than Aziraphale has ever thought or done, he wonders just *why?*

Why is he still an angel when he, really, is no different from Crowley? Why Crowley is damned? Punished for all of eternity for curiosity and innovation and imagination, while Aziraphale is still an angel, doomed to only have until the clock runs out on Armageddon before losing him for the rest of fucking *eternity* but, until then, stuck suffering watching him suffer while remaining an angel? Is being an angel at this point, really, his punishment for failing the apparently foul fiend he adores?

Does Aziraphale ever have any answers to these questions? Good God, no lol. He's six thousand years into this and he's in the same spot as Amnesiac!ArchangelFuckingGabriel in 2.01:

...would be okay if you could just be one near particular person?

Of course Aziraphale knows what this feels like. Of course. We know he does. And that's why he hasn't been able to make a real move in six thousand years-- because it's his fault, as far as he's concerned.

Crowley's damnation is his fault. Crowley cannot really love him, or couldn't if he knew. Not because he's a demon, though Aziraphale might have thought that at one point but he definitely was cured of it by events in 1941. The more time that goes by, the more Aziraphale knows that Crowley loves him-- that he's *in* love with him-- and the worse it all gets for Aziraphale because every day that he hasn't told Crowley that he didn't prevent him from Falling is another day within the last *six thousand years* of them falling in love and the betrayal seems to get worse and worse to Aziraphale. The time to have this conversation was on the wall in Eden and it still hasn't happened. Still, over time, he starts to realize that Crowley, if ever knew, would forgive him.

Because his Crowley has the kindest of hearts. He really does, and that wasn't taken from him when he Fell and Aziraphale finds every opportunity he can to delight in seeing that and making Crowley reveal it.

It goes against everything Aziraphale is supposed to believe.

Demons are not supposed to be good-- if they were, they wouldn't have Fallen. Yet, Aziraphale knows Crowley is. He never has truly believed that Crowley isn't-- even when he could have, at least at the start. He worried, maybe, that he had helped create a monster out of the most lovely being he'd ever known but Crowley just kept proving him wrong about that, time and time again. *Crowley* doesn't believe it about himself, really, because that's his own trauma from his Fall but Aziraphale believes it about him and that's often good enough for Crowley.

But, really, this is why they still haven't gotten together in six thousand years. This is why Aziraphale seems like he can never get beyond "I'm an angel and you're a demon", no matter what Crowley does or how he proves that there are shades of gray and also, that the entire system is bullshit. It is not that Aziraphale doesn't *know* that it's bullshit-- it's that if he admits that it is, if he stops believing in Heaven (even if he doesn't stop believing in God), then he's left with nothing but the crushing weight of guilt that he has for all the pain that Crowley has been through.

If he tells himself that Crowley Fell *for a reason* and that he (Aziraphale) was *right* to not interfere, to not try to thwart God, even if it would have likely failed, just on principle, to stand up for his friend... then Aziraphale doesn't have to deal with the fact that he made what he really considers to be a colossal mistake and that it has caused the continued pain and torture and eternal damnation of the being he considers his soulmate...

...which is why everytime that pain comes to the surface in something Crowley says or does, Aziraphale *cannot handle it at all whatsoever* and reverts to You'reADemonI'mAnAngel!Mode.

Example: Crowley's religious trauma on display in their bandstand argument:

Crowley owns this, even if he's still traumatized by it. He's saying it sarcastically, making a joke on a song Aziraphale probably barely knows, if he knows at all ("Unforgettable"-- Nat King Cole). Aziraphale *aches* at Crowley saying this-- because it reminds him that it's partially his own fault. And he can't. Do. Anything. About. It.

He's an all-powerful *angel* here but he can't change this for Crowley. He can't stop his suffering some six thousand years after his Fall. He's looking at sexy goth Crowley here and he's thinking about curly-haired, beaming, ball of light! Crowley and that they are *the same person* and Aziraphale *does* know that. He knows it and he loves him passionately and desperately and he is one of the most powerful beings ever in existence and he's standing there looking at the man-shaped-being he adores talking about how he still aches from the betrayal of his fellow angels and his mother God and *there is no way for Aziraphale to fix it* when he can mend broken bones and heal the sick and let their be light! all over the place. He can do proper magic and still, he cannot take away Crowley's pain.

This is Aziraphale's Hell. He didn't Fall but he's been in Hell anyway.

So when Crowley's religious trauma and pain comes out, usually in an argument like in the bandstand scene, Aziraphale does the only thing he thinks he *can* do, right? He's an angel. Still. Somehow. He's an angel and there must be some reason for that and an angel is not a demon-- an angel is a purer being, a healer-- and so he says "I forgive you". He doesn't mean it to be patronizing, even if it is. ("I am a *great deal* holier than thou," as he told Crowley at one point and that was the point, right?) He is trying to say "I am still of Heaven and if it's absolution you need, I can give it to you."

He is trying to say: You are not unforgivable to me.

The real lyric of the song Crowley parodies in the bandstand is what Aziraphale means, whether he knows that song or not...

Unforgettable/That's what you are...

*Crowley*, though, doesn't know about Aziraphale's inner turmoil because *heavy sigh* FFS TALK, YOU IDIOTS *breathes* lol, so *he* hears:

I still think I am better than you and you are Fallen, so you're not worthy of me. I can't love you, not the way you want. I love all beings because I'm an angel and I you know I'm in love with you but I can't *allow* myself to be because it goes against the nature of an angel and I've only done eleven thousand things that should have made me Fall over the years but letting myself be in love with you is the rubicon I won't cross, apparently...

Crowley knows by the time they're having the bandstand argument enough about Aziraphale's general religious trauma (not necessarily about how it pertains to Crowley's Fall but about it in general) to know that he spits out hateful garbage when he feels cornered and how to just call it bullshit and move on. ("I don't even like you."/"You doooo.") But he understandably walks away when Aziraphale pushes him away past a point he can handle-- and Aziraphale knows how to do that. He does it *intentionally.* The "I forgive you" is sadness because it's all he has to offer Crowley but he also knows it'll piss Crowley off enough to end the argument, so he says it intentionally to get Crowley to go away. In this scene (which parallels the end of S2 quite a bit, as many have noticed), Aziraphale is trying to deal with it all on his own, right?

He knows where the antichrist is. He's just not telling Crowley yet. He's trying to deal with it to keep him safe. He's doing it because he thinks he should-- that maybe, when it's something of this level of importance, that his job should be as an angel first, above his side with Crowley. (It's also worth mentioning here that Aziraphale is straight up terrified of Falling, not even just for being damned to Hell but because then, if he's no longer in Heaven, he has exactly zero power to even *try* to protect Crowley.) At the end of S2? With The Metatron?

Aziraphale does the same thing as with the antichrist for a time in S1, really.

The beginning of S2 shows us that Aziraphale has known that Heaven is North Korea since Before the Beginning so now marry that with its last scenes and see the arc that connects them-- Aziraphale does what he does out of guilt over what happened to Crowley to *protect* Crowley. He didn't want to do any of it without Crowley and when The Metatron finally offers that carrot, Aziraphale is suspicious as all hell (pardon the pun) and here we have this moment where part of him *wants* this to all be real, right?

Times change and sometimes, your parents who traumatized the living fuck out of you and didn't approve of your boyfriend, grow the hell up a bit and try to repent and mend fences. Maybe the trust is broken but maybe it can be healed and *as an angel*, Aziraphale is a being of goodness and hope and optimism. He's pure of heart, as Crowley put it to Nina. He *wants* that to be the case... but he also knows it likely is not.

Still... they can't run. There's nowhere that Heaven won't find them. It's no life for them-- no life for Crowley, in Aziraphale's mind, no matter how many times Crowley tries to get him to run away with him. "We can go off together!" begs Crowley, over and over, and Aziraphale's only really ever found that Crowley will only slither off if he's ticked off enough and only "I forgive you" ever really does that enough to work lol. He *means* I love you endlessly but you know this is impossible, you bloody maddening, gorgeous serpent! Will you stop reminding me of what we could have when it can never happen?! but that's not exactly how Crowley's taking it.

In the end, to Aziraphale, Aziraphale is an angel and Crowley is a demon and they are doomed to spend eternity apart and Aziraphale thinks he has no one to blame, really, but himself. If he had somehow saved Crowley six thousand years ago-- or had somehow been brave enough to stand up for him and Fallen alongside him-- they could have been together forever.

But he wasn't then and now The Metatron is here and it's time for Aziraphale to go back to Heaven and he knows, as he sits there drinking coffee with the being whose posse sent Crowley in a free fall into a pit of boiling sulphur, that Crowley will never, ever, ever, EVER go back to Heaven.

But he also knows that Heaven is here to collect Aziraphale and they are making it clear that there is no escape. There's nowhere to run. Everyday, it's been getting closer for six thousand years and going faster than a roller coaster for the last handful but a love like Beez and Gabe's will surely never come his and Crowley's way now.

It was always going to end like this. Nothing lasts forever. He told Crowley that, Before the Beginning. Six thousand years. That was all the time they had before the end of Earth, the place they'd come to call home. They found a way to borrow a few more years at the end of it since S1 and he got to dance with Crowley, their fingers brushing, and that is going to have to be enough because they're out of time.

The Metatron never needed say it directly but it was evident: they wanted Aziraphale to go to Heaven and they would say or do anything to get him up there and Aziraphale may have bought it for a moment but he's definitely figured out by the end of S2 that they need him up there not to become the Supreme Archangel but because his time as an angel is now over. The threat to Crowley is unspoken but omnipresent.

The Metatron makes it sound like he doesn't care if Crowley comes back up to Heaven with Aziraphale or not and he really doesn't and why would that be? Why would he be eager to have the two most troublesome beings in all of Heaven and Hell teaming up and getting in the way of his Second Coming plans, which he absolutely *knows* they won't support? Because they won't have jobs waiting for them up there. Crowley will not be restored to full angelic status.

They're going to kill them. Aziraphale knows it. He's known what Heaven is since Before the Beginning, even if he's been in denial about it for almost as long to try to assuage his own guilt over participating in it.

And it's a lot easier a goal for Heaven to accomplish if they separate them and just Aziraphale goes up to Heaven. If Aziraphale goes alone-- if he keeps Crowley from following-- then Crowley is not a threat to them if Aziraphale is gone.

They aren't as powerful apart.

Aziraphale knows that if Crowley comes to Heaven with him that they will kill him and Aziraphale thinks okay, this is it... this is my moment of redemption.

Six thousand years since Crowley Fell and I can finally make up for not saving him by saving him now.

I can go with The Metatron and let Heaven kill me and know that they will not threaten Crowley if they do because what they are threatened by is both of us together. One of us, alone, is less of a threat and the only problem here is that if I go... Crowley will follow me.

If I just go without telling him what The Metatron said and I don't come back right away, he'll go to Heaven, worried that something happened to me, and they'll kill him when he comes looking for me. He'll find out they've Book of Life'd me and do something stupid and my sacrifice to keep him safe will all be for nothing.

So what's our tortured angel to do?

Bandstand 2.0, right?

He's got to piss Crowley off enough that Crowley won't follow him.

He's got to piss Crowley off so much that Crowley *will never come back* and the worst part is that Aziraphale knows *exactly* how to do it.

He makes his own plans and if things get drastic enough, he'll blow up that damn halo, metaphorically-speaking this time. To save Crowley, he will break Crowley.

It's darkly romantic, really. He'll sacrifice himself for Crowley but to be sure that Crowley will be safe and not follow, he'll have to break his heart a bit first-- to further their misunderstandings in a season based on "I don't think your exactly is my exactly exactly"-level miscommunications.

So Aziraphale accepts The Metatron's offer and lets The Metatron think he completely believes that the offer is legit and maybe a part of him is still hoping that it is but he knows it's really not and that this is a suicide run. This is Aziraphale's Holy Water arc...

...and speaking of Holy Water... that arc from the perspective of this being Aziraphale's mentality... Crowley, tortured by Hell for what he did while with Aziraphale in 1827, then refusing to talk about it, showing up with a cane, sullen and depressed, asking Aziraphale for the one thing that would kill him and Aziraphale's unwillingness to understand that it wasn't completely suicide ideation on Crowley's part but as a way to *protect Aziraphale* and keep him safe. Crowley wanted what could kill a demon not to kill himself but to kill one that might come after Aziraphale. All Aziraphale could see, though, was Crowley's physical and emotional pain, that he could barely keep hidden in that era, and how Aziraphale couldn't make it better. All he could see was how he failed him and led him to this suffering. All he could see in a note begging for "holy water" was Crowley wanting a suicide pill, wanting to destroy himself, unable to take any more, in so much pain that he'd leave Aziraphale forever to make it stop. Aziraphale is blinded entirely by guilt and fails to see what Crowley is really saying, which was, ironically, the last time Crowley began to try to tell Aziraphale how he felt, which was:

I've been thinking-- what if it all goes wrong? (What if I lose you? I'm terrified of losing you. I love you. I wake up from nightmares of you being destroyed by the demons who just spent a couple of decades after 1827 not that long ago torturing me. I didn't know for sure if you were still alive during any of it.) We have a lot in common, you and me. (We're a team. A... group of the two of us.) What if it all goes pear-shaped? I need you to get me the magical demon-killing stuff so I have a weapon against *my own fellow fallen angels* that I can use in case they come after us. I would kill another demon and send every legion of Hell after me to protect you.

Aziraphale: I like pears.

(My God, they are so stupid. Please. I can't take any more lol.)

So, yeah... it's Aziraphale's turn for the holy water suicide run here only with an actual suicide run...

It takes the books in The Blitz for Aziraphale to really understand what Crowley was asking for and what he meant by asking for holy water and by 1967, he gives Crowley the holy water, in the one moment when *they actually talk*, as much as they can, about how much they love one another, that exists prior to the end of its parallel-- the end of S2.

So, yeah, Aziraphale "goes to tell his friend the good news" with a look on his face like he's marching to his death *because he is* and he knows it. His last moments with Crowley, in some of his last moments in existence, he already knows will be spent upsetting the man-shaped being he loves. He's got it all planned out. Not exactly the picnic of his dreams but it'll redeem him and save Crowley and that's all that matters to Aziraphale in this moment.

He will sound naive to the threat of Heaven and because Crowley doesn't remember pre-Fall, he won't remember how Aziraphale warned him against taking on the brass in Heaven so Crowley won't be suspicious, he'll be *frustrated*, like he was in the bandstand. He'll get angry. Aziraphale's goal is to get him to storm out-- but it has to be a really, really, bad relationship-ending storming out.

He can't come back after he drives The Bentley around the block like he did back in 2.01 and say "okay, fine, I'll help you" and Aziraphale knows that if he plays this right, he can make it so Crowley won't because helping Gabriel was one thing but asking Crowley to become an angel with him and pretending like they can go fix the broken system of Heaven is going to be Crowley's bridge too far. It's *the only thing* that Aziraphale believes is Crowley's bridge too far where Aziraphale is concerned and isn't that heartbreaking as hell? That Crowley loves him this much? And they never got to be together the way they wanted? That they were just beginning to get close to trying to figure that out?

That, hours ago, Aziraphale was asking him to dance and trying to ignore the signs of trouble around the corner, desperately wanting more time with him? That they are semi-immortal beings that always somehow seem to be out of time?

Truer words have never been spoken, Crowley. Little did you know, poor demon...

So Aziraphale goes into the bookshop and Crowley looks all worked up and wants to say something and some part of Aziraphale begins to hear warning alarms going off in his head because Crowley *never* looks like this-- is never this flustered, never this uncomfortable, never this nervous, never in a rush to say something-- and Aziraphale thinks no, can't be, we don't talk about this... even if, ironically, all of S2 shows that Aziraphale has been trying *for just that*. It was just a few hours ago that he was trying to Jane Austen a ball for them to use as a pretense to discuss their feelings because, in the height of ironies here, right?

Aziraphale was ready.

They'd had some time without Heaven and Hell breathing so much down their necks, even if the threat still loomed, and spent every day together and it was perfect and it was lovely and he knew Crowley would forgive him and Aziraphale was almost there, right, he was *almost* ready to tell him. He was almost ready to tell him he loved him and that it was him, all those millennia ago, who could have done something and didn't and he's so, so, so sorry and can Crowley ever forgive him? Is there any way that Crowley could ever forgive him after what he didn't say and didn't do when he should have? For all the times since that he's said things in anger when, really, he was madly in love and just full of his own issues to sort out? (Damn, Aziraphale, we're beginning to see your affinity for Austen heroes here...)

But he's out of time so there will be none of that now. Now is his karmic payback. Six thousand beautiful years with the being he loves and feels he doesn't deserve have led to Aziraphale's redemption being that he can sacrifice himself to save him. He can leave the world they love with Crowley and Crowley's *goodness* in it, as it should be. So when Crowley says he needs to say something, Aziraphale cannot-- CANNOT-- let him speak because he cannot bear it.

He suddenly fears that of course-- OF COURSE-- the one moment in all of these trillions of moments they've lived through where Crowley is about to directly say he loves him for the first time is the also the same fucking moment when Aziraphale has to destroy their relationship to save Crowley's life and Aziraphale will be dead after this and he cannot bear hearing what his life could have been. He can't hear Crowley say this right now or else he worries he might lose his nerve. He *wants* to hear it but if Crowley speaks first, Aziraphale might cave, he might be weak again like he was when Crowley Fell, he might fail him again, and he can't. Not after all this time. Not when he loves Crowley so much.

"What's that lovely human expression?! 'Hold that thought!'" he blurts out, in a callback to, of course, the moment Crowley saved him in 1941-- to that night where Aziraphale really realized for the first time that Crowley wasn't just capable of good or capable of being friendly towards him but that Crowley *loved* him and that he loved the Demon Crowley, whether or not he should. ("But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past," sings Frances McDormand as the Voice of God, from her apparent favorite film lol, "I must have done something good.")

Ah, yes. Played for suckers. Here is where it's important to note that in 1941, Aziraphale had no idea that Rose was really Greta and that he, in fact, was the one being played for a sucker. By the end of S2, though, it could be argued that he very much knows that The Metatron is Fraulein Greta Klauschmidt-- someone who presented herself as Captain Rose Montgomery, an agent of anti-fascist good, who approached Aziraphale in his bookshop and told him that he could be an agent of change, too. He could help save the world and stop the global rising tide of fascism represented by the Third Reich. He could even do so using his books. They plotted a sting together, in which he'd bring his books to a church and seem to give them to Nazis to give to the Fuhrer, only for agents to surround them and arrest the Nazis. Aziraphale, desperate to *do* good and to *be* good, falls for this-- he fails to see that Rose is really Greta, a Nazi agent who fools him into working for the enemy and getting him to help destroy the world in the process. Pretty obvious to see here that Greta is The Metatron in S2... but it's likely that Aziraphale knows it and is playing along because it's his turn to save Crowley, unlike what happened in 1941, when Crowley saves him and his books.

Crowley, in the bookshop back at the end of S2 in our present time, stops speaking at the "hold that thought", looking like he's about to be ill, and has to also be thinking of 1941 and the church now that Aziraphale has referenced it. Maybe, in some way, it's an unconscious effort on Aziraphale's part to convey to Crowley that this is a charade-- that he doesn't mean this, that it's an act-- but he really doesn't want Crowley to figure that out. It would defeat his goal. But he also doesn't want to hurt him because he loves him but this is the only way that Aziraphale can see to save him. So he starts gushing about his coffee with The Metatron, right? We all remember this pain lol.

Maybe I've misjudged him. (Aziraphale, we suspect you know that he tossed Crowley into hellfire and stole Gabriel's memories so honestly, the worst part of all of this is that you're so traumatized that Crowley is *buying* what you're saying here...) And guess what?! He wants me to be the new Supreme Archangel! And he said you can come! And you can be an angel again! It will be so fun! We can have a slumber party, Crowley, after days of doing good, and braid each other's hair!

Crowley is like jfc fml are you even serious right now? Which, of course, is what Aziraphale *was going for.* It's the "I don't even like you" and the "we're hereditary enemies" and the "I'm an angel, you're a demon" way of trying to intentionally push Crowley away but the new version of it because none of that flies with S2 Crowley-- most of it barely flew with him in S1-- because Crowley *knows.*

He knows that Aziraphale loves him. And he knows that Aziraphale knows him, which is to say he knows how to hurt him, and that's what this is but also Crowley just sees it as how much Heaven has hurt them both. How much they've hurt Aziraphale. Because just as Aziraphale looks at Crowley in the throes of his religious trauma-- "Unforgivable. It's what I am", etc.-- and wants to help and save and protect him, Crowley feels the same way in return when Aziraphale is like this. Frustrated, sure, but in just as much pain at how much pain Aziraphale is in and feels powerless to stop it but will do whatever he can to try to, yeah?

For Aziraphale, this is all going fairly well (it's miserable but in terms of goal, it's working) through "tell me you said no" but the problem is that Crowley is still pleading. He's still trying to work through it because they're an *us* now and also ironically of course this is when Crowley's been trying to do better with storming out lol so he's trying to couple-solve this. He's not just *leaving* like how Aziraphale had hoped. He had been trying to sell to Crowley that he could pick Heaven over Crowley and Crowley is just kinda... not believing it so much at first and, instead, is trying to approach it like a problem for the two of them to solve together, instead of as a decision that Aziraphale has made for his life that he's stating that Crowley can take or leave.

Which calls back to this scene in 2.01 at the start of this arc, when Crowley calls their life *his* life and Aziraphale counters with that he thought *they* had carved out a life for themselves *together* and Crowley answers: "so did I!" Because they haven't had a discussion about what they are, exactly, at that point, Crowley still cautiously calls *their* life *his* life, retaining a sense of autonomy, as if he's only making decisions for himself when, in reality, they are a couple who are trying to make a life together and have been doing so consciously since S1. Crowley calls that life "precious" and "peaceful" to Aziraphale-- beautiful, lovely things that they both treasure and want and find with one another-- but also "fragile". The threats to them still loom large in the background and they are still so afraid to go much further in their relationship because, in part, of those threats and how terrified they are of losing one another... which just makes the end of S2 even more brutal, really.

(*mantras* cottage in the south downs cottage in the south downs...)

So back in That Scene later in S2, Aziraphale is then just kind of stuck trying to figure out how to get Crowley to be so angry with him that he storms out and never comes back in the face of Crowley trying to very much not do that and then Crowley starts saying that he needs to say what he was going to say or he never will and Aziraphale *knows*, ok? He knows what Crowley needs to say. He just literally cannot believe this is going to happen right now. He honestly can't believe it's happening at all but right now?!

He knows before Crowley begins speaking. He probably knew when he told him to "hold that thought" a few moments before but he *really* knows now. Crowley has no idea that Aziraphale has planned for this to be the last time they ever see one another and to go sacrifice himself to Heaven for whatever they want to do with him to keep them away from Crowley. Crowley looks like he's about to pass out from nerves and can barely speak and just...

...six. thousand. years...

...I know we have all looked at the heartbreak of this scene from Crowley's POV here every which way to Sunday, okay, but just imagine you are Aziraphale, who has loved this being since before the literal beginning of time, and you blame yourself for his pain and suffering, and he's standing here, braver than you've ever been with him, looking into your eyes and telling you that he knows that you love him and that he loves you and he knows you both have known this for basically the entirety of your existence together and he can't pretend anymore. He doesn't want to pretend anymore. He knows things have changed over the last few years between you and he wants more of that. He wants to be with you.

The two of you are not even human, just human-adjacent beings who have gone native from the stars and clouds here, who live and love like humans, who know that maybe the angels and demons have it backwards and God's great creatures are the humans-- that it should be the good in them that you should be trying to emulate-- and Crowley had never been more beautifully, impossibly human than while he's standing there looking ready to pass out while asking you if, after six millennia, it might be alright for him to not hide how much he loves you.

How many times has Aziraphale imagined this by this point? A million? How many different ways? There's at least half of them when he imagines that he's the one who gets up the courage first but there are so. many. Crowley. fantasies. Ones in every time period. But always *a fantasy*, at least up until maybe very recently. Why?

Not even just Heaven and Hell and the threat of being caught but the fact that Aziraphale believes that Crowley doesn't know Aziraphale didn't save him during The Fall and how could he ever really love him if he knew? How could Aziraphale ever go to him like this and give Crowley everything he knows Crowley has desired for so long without telling him the truth about Aziraphale's role in Crowley's Fall-- but then, Aziraphale assumes, he'd lose Crowley forever? So this has always been a pipe dream for Aziraphale-- fantasies from a world where they ever stood a chance of being together-- never really something that could be reality and here it is, starting, happening *now*...

...after six. thousand. years. of living with this guilt and in the last moments in which he will ever see Crowley before he heads to his likely death, with no time to tell him the truth and beg for his forgiveness, no time to ever know what their lives might be like if they could be together.

As Crowley, unbeknownst to Aziraphale, mused dramatically, if not inaccurately, earlier in the season... it's always too late.

It's punishment, in Aziraphale's mind. That's what Crowley's proposal, his confession, is now. It's his Fall, whether he falls or not when he leaves the bookshop for Heaven. It's karmic retribution-- it's God, finally saying something, and what she's saying is:

Look at what you've done, Aziraphale...

Look at how he loves you.

He was never unforgivable.

You are.

Aziraphale might be erased from existence once he gets to Heaven and he knows that's a possibility but he basically is dying here. Crowley is killing him. Crowley has pointed that silver bullet gun straight at his head and fired but he's missed and the bullet isn't in Aziraphale's teeth, it's gone through him.

Crowley, here, tears in his eyes, asking for whatever time they have. An eternity? Impossible, unlikely. Angel and demon. One day, the war will begin again-- another war to end all wars, like all the ones they've fell more and more in love during throughout history-- but it might be the one where Heaven or Hell wins and they're doomed to spend eternity apart. Crowley has said before he thinks the real war is humanity versus Heaven and Hell and that sounds like he thinks there's a chance they could survive it but who knows? They don't know. They're immortal beings who live like humans and that's, of late, included a sense of mortality. They don't know how much time they have left and Crowley is asking for all of it. He is asking for whatever time they have left to be spent together, openly loving one another, and what he doesn't know is what Aziraphale knows:

That they're already out of time.

Crowley is proposing marriage unaware that Aziraphale is dying. It's always too late, Crowley had stated earlier but had hope that maybe it wasn't but it is. And Aziraphale?

Gah. Aziraphale...

He's never loved him more. He's never wanted him more. He wants to tell him that he wants that, too, that they can have it, that Crowley can have anything he wants, but it's not true. It's not true because they could run out the back door of the bookshop now and hop in the Bentley and end-of-Grease it up to Alpha Centauri and Heaven will still find them. Heaven and Hell will still be after them. Running away solves nothing and Crowley always, ultimately, anyway, comes back and this time-- this time-- for Crowley's own good, to save his life, Aziraphale needs him to leave the bookshop and never come back.

And the moment that Crowley confesses that he loves him and that he knows Aziraphale loves him in return and that they've both known this, forever, and asks him if he can be allowed to just love him, Aziraphale loves him so much in return that he'll break his heart to save him from dying.

Dying is... not on, as High!Crowley put it in 1827 lol, but suicide-ish attempts are, if it's Aziraphale's turn this time.

So he twists the knife. He hides the goats as pigeons and he looks at Crowley and does a bit of this:

...only with the exact opposite intent. In the Job minisode, Crowley cannot speak aloud his true intentions. (Something he can finally do in the S2 finale, when he declares his love for Aziraphale.) He cannot tell Aziraphale outrightly that he had zero desire whatosever to kill Job's kids and animals and doesn't plan on actually doing it and, in fact, is actively engaged in a bit of bait-and-switch to make it look like he's doing what he's supposed to be doing as mandated by Heaven! this time as well as Hell (a nice little extra bit of paralleling to the end of S2 and Aziraphale, there.) He wants Aziraphale to believe him enough to allow him to pull it off because saving the kids and the pets (and protecting Aziraphale from any harm that might come to him if he gets in the way of what Crowley's been asked to do) matters more to Crowley than Aziraphale believing him...

...and believing him here means believing *in* him. Believing that they are on the same side and it's their own side and they're in it together. Crowley has to lie to him here *and it works for a moment*. It's really important to note that *it works*. Aziraphale believes that Crowley can do this and that he wants to-- that he not only can but he *longs* (lol) to "kill the blameless kids of Job"-- but it's all in Crowley's wording. He isn't *actually* lying. He *does* long to kill the blameless kids of Job like how he killed the blameless goats of Job-- because he "killed the blameless goats of Job" by turning them into pigeons. So he's really saying to Aziraphale that he longs to *fake the deaths* of the blameless kids of Job and plans to in the same way that he did the goats. In that moment, though? It didn't matter if Crowley was lying or telling the truth. There was only one goal--

--to get Aziraphale to walk away.

To get Aziraphale to leave, for his own safety, and let Crowley handle this. Better that he misunderstand Crowley and be disappointed in him and think him a lost cause than to get himself into trouble. Crowley out here loving Aziraphale that much in the days of Bildad the Shuite. (This poor mfer. Six. Thousand. Years lol.)

So what caused Crowley's plan to save Aziraphale in the Job era to not work?

One of the pigeons bleated, right?

Aziraphale heard it and realized that Crowley hadn't been lying so much as he had been trying to protect Aziraphale from his plan of subterfuge against the Almighty and Satan. The difference is that there are no bleating pigeons in the S2 finale... there's just *a whole certain famous other kind of damn bird instead* and its *absence* from the scene is the big emotional gut punch moment. And we all know it but I'll gif it anyway since this is already a depressing meta (cottage in the south downs cottage in the south downs...)...

...and that *is* the point. Because unlike back in the Bildad the Shuite days, there is no bleating pigeon (at least, not yet) to make Crowley realize that all is not what it seems and that Aziraphale is trying to lie to him and get him to leave to protect him from Heaven.

As Aziraphale is like mortally wounded here by Crowley's confession of love and is so not going to recover from this, he's now got to not only get Crowley to leave feeling like Aziraphale rejected being their own team for Heaven, he has to now do it with all of it out in the open-- with Crowley having openly confessed love for him, with him having asked for them to be together. He's not just going to have to frustrate Crowley more than he ever has before and get him to leave more angry than he was before, he has to, instead, smash into little tiny bits the very beautiful, very passionate, beating heart of the being he has loved since he met him *making the stars* in the bloody sky here...

The only way to get Crowley to go now is to make Crowley think he's rejecting the idea of loving him. Aziraphale honestly can't even sell the idea that he *doesn't* love Crowley because Crowley won't believe it-- he knows Aziraphale does and he's said as much in his whole marriage proposal here. So it has to be that Crowley thinks Aziraphale chose Heaven over loving him. Chose being an angel. That he really meant all of those 'hereditary enemies' and 'you're a demon' moments and to sell that, he sells it.

(You're a dark horse, Mr. Fell, Nina said of him in 2.01... the same turn of phrase Crowley uses when surprised by the secret skills and narrative power of Jane Austen later on in the pub.)

Aziraphale does love himself a bit of theatre. A bit of a disappearing act. The West End, The West End...

...our Nefertiti-fooling fellow...

He sells it with:

Well, of course you said no, *you're* the bad guys...

Come with me... I'll run, it you can be *my second-in-command*...

We can be together. *Angels*. Doing *good*...

...oh, Crowley... nothing lasts forever...

For his final act, The Marvelous Mr. Fell will saw his ineffable husband's heart in half by spewing a litany of everything he can think of to say that will piss him off enough to make him leave the bookshop broken-hearted enough to never come back.

Only someone put a miracle blocker on here because, try as he might and good heavens (pardon the pun), Aziraphale is *trying* here...

...this turnip is not turning into a damn inkwell.

Crowley finally starts to go-- it's looking promising. Finally, Aziraphale thinks, this misery might end. Six thousand years of wanting to speak of all of this between them and hoping for some happiness when-- if-- it could maybe someday arrive, if it even could-- and it's the worst moment of Aziraphale's existence and he knows it is the same for Crowley.

Crowley stops and the "do you hear that?" And no, Aziraphale doesn't hear anything, he just has never been more upset and Crowley needs to just go because Aziraphale can't handle another moment of this, how could it possibly get worse?

Nightingales. Of course.

A call back to S1's "no more world-class composers/little restaurants where they know you/gravalax and dill sauce/old bookshops" but this time, it's "no nightingales". There's Armageddon coming that neither of them know about in this moment. It's still a 'someday, they'll try again' concept to them in this scene, not an extremely immediate threat, as Aziraphale doesn't learn about The Second Coming until after this. So the end of the world that Crowley references here is the end of *their* world and that means no nightingales. No romance. No *them*, together. Worth remembering that Crowley thought, up until maybe what? Five minutes ago? That they were headed to breakfast at the Ritz together. They should have been sitting there together *in this moment*, is what he's saying. Miracling the pianist to play "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" and gazing at one another over teapots and mimosas and croissants.

That's gone, since you chose Heaven instead, is what Crowley states and Aziraphale knows it because, God help him (no, literally, GOD HELP HIM! WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GO OFF TO THIS SEASON, FRANCES?!), it's what he's *trying* to make happen.

You idiot, says the once-Bildad the Shuite, who thought he was taking his beloved to the ox rib special this morning and not getting dumped for an old floating head and the cinematic world's most contentious to-go cup of coffee, we could have been... us.

Not really a part of the theory here, just the observation that Crowley's confession/proposal begins with him unable to say "a couple", in case this all goes pear-shaped and he needs to have never said something that romantic, so he says instead "a team", "a group-- of the two of us". He says it without saying it. But, by the end? He just says "us." He *present*-tenses it. He's like forget everything else, angel, we could have just kept on being us because we both know what we are. We don't need to find the right turn of phrase or even the most specific human word for it. We are just *us* and we could have kept on with that but you chose the mentality of your abusive family and asked me to be what I'm not and I still love you because I *know* you but I can't be with you like that and *you* know that.

And he kisses him. Because Franny McD says you ain't suffered enough yet, Aziraphale lol. Should I just gif it while we're miserable? If you've read this far, a month has passed and hopefully, you've taken breaks and I do apologize but I'm gonna gif it because yeah. Here we go, folks...

God, make it stop, pleads Aziraphale to literal God and here comes Crowley with the S1 wall slam parallel, all dammit, angel, I know you've wanted us to snog for centuries and this is our last chance.

I know people have opinions about this kiss and I know we're all posting them here, obviously myself included, but while I've seen a lot of like... 'Crowley knows it's the only time they ever will be able to because Aziraphale is leaving him for Heaven' and 'Crowley wants to remind Aziraphale what he's giving up and could have had' and 'Crowley tries the kiss to see if it'll change Aziraphale's mind' takes-- and I agree with all of those things and think they're all right-- I've not seen a lot of 'Crowley kisses Aziraphale *for Aziraphale*' and I think that's a big part of it, too.

Crowley really isn't stupid. Not when it comes to Aziraphale wanting him. It would be honestly hard to spend a zillion lifetimes on Earth and not get it after like...

And Crowley understands Aziraphale's particular brand of religious trauma more than most, since he has a variant version of it himself. He understands that where his whole thing is that he's very much *not* an angel anymore, that Aziraphale's identity is wrapped up in being one and the conflicts he has with Heaven and while Crowley is not yet quite hearing what Nina said-- that she just got out of an abusive relationship and that she's not yet ready to be with Maggie and needs time-- and marrying that to Aziraphale and Heaven (especially because Aziraphale is showing exactly zero signs of trying to get out of his relationship with Heaven lol), Crowley wants Aziraphale to have had what he (Aziraphale) wanted, even if it was for only a moment. He can't go with him. This is the *one* scenario where Crowley cannot follow where Aziraphale goes, where he can't come to him and rescue him, because Aziraphale has said he doesn't want him to. Aziraphale wants to go and do this and the only way he'll take Crowley is if Crowley wants to become an angel again, which Crowley will not do.

And damned if there isn't a part of Aziraphale that thinks that if The Metatron can really be trusted, wouldn't that be something? That if he gets up there to Heaven and he really is made Supreme Archangel and if Crowley changes his mind, if he comes back, like he always does... if he storms out and leaves but then misses him too much and takes the elevator up... then maybe Aziraphale could make him an angel again and while Crowley hears in Aziraphale offering that you aren't good enough as a demon-- you're not good, period and even if he doesn't totally believe that Aziraphale really thinks that but knows Aziraphale has enough religious conflict that it's a problem for their relationship, what Aziraphale *really* means is... I could fix it.

I could go back and un-Fall you. I could take away your pain. I could stop your suffering. I'd have the *power* to do it when I don't right now and it kills me, every day. I could right the wrong I did, the sin I committed-- the real Original Sin-- six thousand years ago when I betrayed you, when Heaven betrayed you.

I could do right by you, the way She never did.

I am going to Heaven to either have the power to do that or to be obliterated into non-existence and I don't totally know which, though surviving is not looking promising, but all I know is that it's too dangerous for you to follow me right now until I do know so I'd rather hurt you than see you dead.

You want to be with me and I am afraid it will lead to your destruction so I need to say anything to put the breaks on your attempt and make you back off. To a lesser extent, I've done it before. Can do again.

Only this time, no hope of the possible, future picnic, I'm afraid...

It really is the worst possible Aziraphale nightmare here like... everything he's ever wanted. Six millennia of wanting to pull Crowley close and he has to reject him or Crowley could die. Fanfic season here said Coffee Shop AU and also a reverse-Fuck or Die for the ages. People complaining that it's awkward? YES. It's supposed to be. Crowley has no idea that Aziraphale is facing a round of sudden death here and was just hoping for his one fabulous kiss and vavoom. Even if it didn't change anything-- he wanted *Aziraphale* to feel that. To know how much he's wanted this for so long and to have it, even if they can't again. The intent is terribly romantic, as is Aziraphale flailing in the middle of it and giving in because he is made of strong, halo-exploding stuff here but he's wanted this forever. He goes up on his toes, he leans in, his hands flail around and he touches Crowley's back. He *shouldn't* do any of this if he's trying to meet his goal of getting Crowley to leave because it gave Crowley hope. It might have even been what motivated Crowley to stay outside and not go right away, or at least a part of it. But Aziraphale had to because he loves him and he couldn't help it.

Then, *sob*, The Michael Sheen eviscerating all of us here...

For anyone who might still be saying that is an "I didn't want his kiss" face... hard, HARD, VERY HARD disagree. That is "I didn't want *this* kiss, like this, right now." That is a man-shaped being who was just kissed by the love of his life for what may have been the first time but, at minimum, is for what he believes will be the *last* time. (I'm still out here holding out some hope for Blitz, Part 3-- a nice first kiss after they kill some Zombie Nazis with Chekhov's derringer in the bookshop but I digress...somehow, even if this entire long meta is one long digression, I digress lol...)

It's the face of a man gutted by the fact that this, in his wildest dreams, was not supposed to happen like this and he's been alive for damn ever at this point so he's had *all* the wildest dreams. And a lot of them, let's be real, have centered around Crowley doing just this. Exactly this. Crowley ain't wrong with the 'grabbing him by the collar and kissing him senseless in the middle of the bookshop' thing. He's wanted to do it for centuries. And the middle of the bookshop bit? That's important, too. This is their home. It's *their* home, even if Crowley is technically homeless. It's safe for him in here and Aziraphale has made it so. It's where they've spent thousands of hours together, happy and safe in each other's company, and here they are, bouille-bouile-bouile-baby-ing finally and it's a complete and utter, unmitigated trash truck dumpster fire.

Honestly, this was a better kiss than in S2 lol. S1 laying down though how long they've been dreaming about it (and having Crowley start listing animals that are in Aziraphale's nonsense magic spell, like he flashes back to 1941 when thinking about the end of the world and kissing Aziraphale in the bookshop... so you can see why I'm moderately hopeful that maybe they did kiss then, once, before then trying to never again until Crowley kisses Aziraphale in 2.06.)

I'm going to bring this back around now to the comparison I made above with Crowley and Jesus and talk about how 2.06's end scenes are also like the last temptation of Christ. Good Omens makes it pretty clear that Aziraphale is the tempter, really, of the two of them, in their relationship. Crowley can't say no to him and Aziraphale has learned it and loves to puppy eyes Crowley into anything he wants.

Crowley knows it and is fine with it. He's smitten and happy to be wrapped around Aziraphale's finger. Crowley has tempted Aziraphale and we see that in S2 with the ox rib. He is, himself, just by existing, tempting to Aziraphale. But in terms of temptation carrying with it a bit of manipulation and *that* kind of tempting being what's demonic in nature? Then Aziraphale is, and always has been, the demon of the two of them. This is true into the end of S2, as while there is almost nothing that Crowley would deny Aziraphale, there is really only one thing and that's to change who he is for him. To become an angel again, to work for Heaven again, after what they've done to him and Aziraphale. So the end of S2 is then Aziraphale's temptation-- it's a test, of sorts, for Crowley, even if Aziraphale doesn't intend for it to be. Crowley resists the temptation. Even for Aziraphale, he won't follow the path of darkness for himself and become something he's not. Crowley-Jesus. (Aziraphale-Satan S3 incoming lol.)

And if you've been reading all of this right then you know what happens next and what it means from the POV of this guilt-ridden Aziraphale...

I honestly don't think Aziraphale is really that angry *with Crowley* at this point-- I think he's just angry. He's reached his limit and then some. He has a lot of simmering, under the surface rage on a good day that only bubbles over when he's stressed by a situation he can't control and here is the ultimate one, really. He's a little mad at Crowley because they've waited countless years for that and in an argument, while ironically probably kind of perfect for them, is not really how *either* of them wanted it to be... but, mostly, Aziraphale is just angry that he can't have any of those moments at all. That they're out of time. That they had all this time and they never really could be safely together and that he's been haunted for six thousand years of the image of his fluffy cloud of redheaded sunshine, bloodied and stricken, and then tossed to Hell while Aziraphale was powerless to stop it. He's never seen those eyes since and he loves the snake ones. He loves all of Crowley with all he has but he's never been allowed to *have* him and never felt safe enough to try and now it's all over. And he still has to make Crowley fucking leave this bookshop for his plan of self-sacrifice to fucking work here so...

...I forgive you. It's the worst thing he can think of. The thing Crowley always hates. The thing that he knows makes Crowley feel lesser and demonic, even if Aziraphale has always, always meant it as an I love you. He even spits it out to Crowley with an almost self-deprecating, referential tone to it-- like "here we go again-- you say you love me and I say 'I forgive you' because I can't say anything else, can I?" The anger is laced underneath it and all the pain but he's intentionally referencing how this this the thing he says whenever Crowley says they can be their own side. He's trying to claim that nothing has changed in all of these years, when they both know that everything has changed since S1 and the bandstand. That's what makes it hurt both of them even more. Aziraphale chooses to say "I forgive you" because he knows that Crowley has never heard it for how Aziraphale means it and Aziraphale is a little bitter about it and lets it show in the moment, since Aziraphale's I forgive you always really means...

I can't stand to see you in pain and if there's any power in me as an angel to stop it, then I will do that so I forgive you and may that make it easier, may that make it all okay, even though I know it won't.

And just before saying I forgive you, Aziraphale's mouth works and he almost-- almost-- says I love you instead... what Crowley would really give anything to hear.

You can see the 'l' forming there, the beginning of "love", what he *really* wanted to say... what Crowley himself didn't even actually explicitly say. Crowley said it without saying it. He called them a couple without saying that word, asked for eternity without fully asking for it, said he loved him by acknowledging that they had both been pretending, but Crowley was terrified and so he said the things in a way that made it obvious what he was saying and asking for but, so unused to not speaking in code are they, that Crowley didn't say he loved Aziraphale, not directly. He did say it. He just didn't say it in those words.

And for a second, Aziraphale almost does.

He can't stand that he's breaking Crowley's heart. He can't stand that Crowley has kissed him and Aziraphale only briefly kissed him back, only barely touched him, when he really wanted to go at him like an ox rib and never let him go, and he starts to say the truth because no part of him really *wants* to be lying like this to Crowley. But he stops. And not even just because he needs Crowley to leave the shop to save his life but because, in the last four minutes, Crowley has confessed love and proposed and they've kissed and Aziraphale, pretty sure he actually died somewhere in the middle there and he's now stuck somewhere in one of Dante's worst circles of Hell lol, just cannot *also* have this be the moment where he says "I love you" to Crowley.

It's not even false hope that maybe they'll somehow have more time. With Heaven breathing down his neck in the form of The Metatron, Aziraphale has no real hope of that. He just always dreamed of telling him and not like this. He doesn't want Crowley to hear it like this, either, not as a part of a rejection. The anger, instead, surfaces, because why can't he and Crowley just *have* this?! How the hell did Gabriel and Beezlebub get to fuck off to Alpha Centauri after dating for ten minutes when he and Crowley have spent bloody eons in queer pining hell over here? What did they ever do that was so wrong to deserve this? Why was Crowley asking questions so terrible? Why have they had to spend thousands of years pretending not to love each other as if love-- the epitome of the angelic-- was unholy? Why, Aziraphale is wondering, now that they are out of time, did he ever spend so many years terrified when, in the end, it all ended tragically anyway?

How many of those years could Aziraphale have spent loving Crowley the way they ought to have been able to have and denied themselves of for so long?

And then Crowley finally does it. Tells him "don't bother" about the forgiveness-- about the love, as Aziraphale has always meant it-- and he leaves. It worked. The anger and pain and saying "I forgive you" after that kiss... it worked. And Crowley leaves and Aziraphale, alone, is a complete mess of broken and furious and broken some more.

Crowley, as we know, doesn't get to see this moment. Muriel does! Great for fic! Hilarious by show standards that the new angel who is literally being ordered to take over Aziraphale's home against his will is who witnesses the aftermath of the intimate moment our angel has been craving, oh, just since before the dawn of humanity over here.

He touches his lips, his hand trembles... have you all noticed that Aziraphale is literally fucking *tasting and eating* what of himself Crowley left in his mouth here? He's pulling every bit of Crowley to his tongue from his teeth and *swallowing*, like he knows it's all of him he'll ever again be able to consume, like he's committing how he tastes to memory for the last like, who knows, ten? fifteen? twenty minutes? of his own existence that he knows he probably has left...

Jesus fucking Christ, Michael Sheen...

This is all without yet mentioning the single most under-analyzed line in S2 that calls into question a ton of stuff, which is this beauty from Shax, right off the top of 2.01:

"Beezlebub's put some of the lesser demons on half-rations."

What does this have to do with Aziraphale consuming Crowley's kiss like it's the most scrumptious thing he's ever tasted (because it is) and being furious that it'll be their last?

Because that Shax line casually confirms that demons eat. Do they eat human food or some sort of demon food or both? Who knows, really, but they're *supposed* to eat. Ok, but is it just a demon thing? No, because it ties to Crowley's comments in S1 about how he complained that the food wasn't really that good lately when hanging out with Lucifer and The Gang, which then implies that, at least back then, *angels* ate, too. Eating was a normal thing. Over time, though, we know that the higher angels have come to see eating as human and pedestrian and not something befitting of an angel. Some demons eat-- even Crowley eats, if less than and differently than Aziraphale-- but the angels think it's beneath them and if we have confirmation via Shax in S2 that they are supposed to be eating and basically only don't die because they're immortal beings and not human, even if they have human corporations, then the show is saying that all of these angels are fucking starving themselves.

They're doing what they're told and denying their own nature and their own needs in the process.

S2 also shows that with the ox rib, right?

Aziraphale went *at* that thing. He'd never eaten at all in a couple thousand years after being told it was un-angelic and so when he tasted food for the first time, he went so overboard that he's been Mr. Prim and Proper with his napkins and table etiquette ever since out of embarrassment over Crowley watching him food orgasm once-- and that's the metaphor there, as we've all figured out. Our show that has a sex worker named Mrs. Sandwich is all about its ongoing food-as-sex metaphor. S2 even opens with the hilarious turnabout from S1 as a "thank you for my pornography", "why do you consume *that*?" Gabriel shows up at the bookshop-- naked-- and has a food orgasm trying hot chocolate for the first time.

Gabe, babe, Aziraphale does not need the play-by-play here....

Mah point is... mah point is that Tumblr is maxing me at 30 images per post and so you'll just have to picture Crowley slurring "dolphins" while I get to my actual point here...

Mah point is while this is a whole separate analysis almost and one that many of you have already done in different ways re: food & sex on the show, my point here is that starving yourself of food in Good Omens is analogous to being touch-starved or love-deprived and before someone yells at me about how angelic beings don't necessarily need sex or are by nature not into sex unless they make an Effort, I agree with you and Neil Gaiman. I'm just also saying the show is suggesting that they all have human corporations and that many of those human corporations are not sex-averse so for those of them that are not, they're literally out here touch-starved and/or sex-starved here in different ways. But, you say, maybe Crowley is hungry (goodness knows, Crowley *is hungry* lol) but Aziraphale eats all the time!

Yeah. Aziraphale eats *food*, all the time. But he isn't touched all the time. He doesn't have sex all the time. He isn't kissed all the time. The 2.06 scene shows him *physically* making that metaphor of food and sex real for us-- we watch him *consume* what remains of Crowley's kiss--showing that he's desperate for it and deprived of it. He's starved for it, to a point of trembling hands and rolling every bit of Crowley's lingering taste around his mouth like he's taking on every last bite of the best crepe he could ever imagine in all his days...

...and then being, understandably, full of rage that this is the only time he's going to ever have Crowley-- and all he's ever going to have of him, when Crowley just offered all of himself-- forever.

And then The Metatron comes back and is Aziraphale ready to go to his death now? And, Friends, Aziraphale...

...is absolutely not.

He's turned away from the door, barely containing tears. When the door opened and he turned, he half-hoped it'd be Crowley but it was grr That Bastard instead. He looks out the window and Crowley is still out there...

...he left but he didn't really *leave*... and it somehow then still isn't over and will someone please just take Aziraphale out back and angel-shoot him? He can't take any more of this.

What about the shop? he asks, in a moment of desperation and terror over what's to come and some blind, stupid hope that he can somehow get out of all of this with him and Crowley still alive and The Metatron, who anticipated this, tells him Muriel lives here now. Aziraphale looks around the home he's made for him and Crowley for the last 223 years and his favorite books and possessions. Crowley's hat from 1941 is on the hat stand, the horse statue is where Crowley put his glasses back when he trusted him, back when he let Aziraphale see his pretty yellow eyes whenever Aziraphale wanted in recent years... before he just put his glasses back on now and closed himself off again.

Aziraphale is never going to see those eyes he loves again. He didn't even get to kiss Crowley without the sunglasses on before it was all over.

Even Gabriel had something to take up to Heaven with him to remind him of the demon he loved but Aziraphale goes to Heaven and to his death empty-handed because he pushed Crowley away to save him from all of this and, in the final push, he looks at Crowley standing there by The Bentley, all that secretly optimistic, beautiful, romantic hope about him still in him from the angel Aziraphale first met, all the awareness there of Aziraphale-- the only being who really knows him-- and so he's still waiting, still hoping. It goes back a few hours to the ball.

I'll be back. I won't leave you on your own.

But it's Aziraphale's call now and he gets into the elevator. The Metatron wins because Aziraphale's love for Crowley wins. He'll die before he lets anything happen to him, even if he wants to run to that car and to him but where would they run *to*? There's no place to go. Crowley has always been wrong about that. They can't go off together. There's no place safe from Heaven for them.

So Aziraphale gets into the elevator at The Dirty Donkey, leaving Crowley alone in the street once again, just with less hope this time than in 1967.

So Aziraphale leaves the bookshop this time, instead of going into it like he did in S1, when he left Crowley in the street, standing beside The Bentley, while clutching a different book this time-- Agnes Nutter's prophecies in his hand versus The Book of Life and its threatened erasure hanging over Aziraphale like the specter that it is. What was predicted about the future versus erasure from the past and all time. Nothing to see here, Crowley! Everything is as it's seems.

Everything is tickety-boo!

Tickety-boo?

Yes, which is also what Aziraphale-as-Crowley said... when he was kidnapped by Heaven and Hell in S1, remember? When he was taken from Earth to be sentenced to death... along *with* Crowley.

This time, Aziraphale is shutting Crowley out again. Telling him 'mind how you go' again, this time a bit more, uh, emphatically lol. And on their heels, again, the end of the world. Arma-bloody-geddon 2.0: The Second Coming.

Aziraphale heard The Metatron saying that was the plan-- as, of course, our villain walked away and meant for it not to be totally heard, further implying that they have no plans to really make Aziraphale the Supreme Archangel and that this is all a remix of Fraulein Greta Klauschmidt. That then makes this all somehow *even worse*... because now Aziraphale gets in the elevator to ride up to his death to save Crowley but now he knows that it was all for nothing.

War is coming. The planet they love will be destroyed. Crowley, if he knows him well enough, will likely die trying to save it. When he does, he'll still be damned to Hell for all of eternity while Aziraphale thinks he likely won't exist at all once he makes it upstairs and Michael finally gets to Book of Life him. Let the other angels think he's been played for a sucker. Better they think him a fool than that they come for Crowley.

He doesn't want to Fall and doesn't wish for it. If they take his memories as punishment, and they almost certainly will, he won't remember any of the moments he spent with Crowley and even if they could have eternity together in Hell if the world is destroyed, he wouldn't wish Crowley the pain of being around him when he didn't remember anything.

Aziraphale only finding out about The Second Coming in the moment before he gets on the elevator-- *after* everything happens with Crowley-- is a million times worse because now Aziraphale is riding to his death knowing that everything they've done in six thousand years doesn't matter and that the events of S1 didn't matter because all it did was delay the inevitable end of the world and everything Aziraphale loves is about to be destroyed.

That, apparently, was God's ineffable, Great Plan.

All of that is what is on Aziraphale's face on the ride up to Heaven in the final splitscreen.

In that splitscreen, Crowley, for what it's worth, is visually echoing the driving back from Tadfield bit that leads to the "tickety-boo" moment of Aziraphale lying to him by omission. He looks close to a parallel to the S1 moment where he suddenly yelled:

"DUCKS!"

They're what water slides off of. In this context? They were also the thing itching at the back of Crowley's mind-- the not quite right thing, the puzzle he couldn't quite figure out, the question he coudln't yet quite answer... until he could. That's positive, actually. It means there might be something for him to realize, even if that realization might come too late in the short term. (They will solve everything and be fine, memory-intact, immortal beings in love who go off together by the end of it. This is all just until then.)

Ducks are also, sort of, the be all and end all of Good Omens. Crowley knows how to take care of them, after all, when others do not. You feed them frozen peas-- they are good for them and they love them, too. (Don't feed him coffee, you Metatron idiot! He only ever drank one mug of it in S1 and it led to the *points above* see: tickety-boo Aziraphale lying to Crowley paralleling sequence of scenes.) [The "do you have one, single, better idea?" scene is Aziraphale drinking coffee, for reference.]

So, yeah, by comparison here... Aziraphale, you are a duck lol. You have been fed bread by idiots for far too long when, really, you need to be eating frozen peas. Crowley knows this and he knows how to take care of you. With any luck, he's about to have his duck-moment-paralleling epiphany any moment now, though I fear you're already going to be memory-wiped and fallen to Hell when he does. That's okay, though, because this is the main scene that still needs a go-around in paralleling and we know Crowley knows where the dungeons are down there from unfortunate, personal experience.

Cottage in the south downs, cottage in the south downs, cottage in the south downs, cottage....

Notes: Hi! If you have made it all the way here, thank you for reading. I hope it was worth the read for you. You all write such great stuff that I felt inspired to put my lit and film studies and psych background to use and jump in a bit. Thanks for indulging me. I also wish to note that there is a gif above that is by @fuckyeahgoodomens but for some reason, the credit was not working properly so I just wanted to make sure you knew who was providing us the visual joy.

[abbyromanoff]

ALL GOOD GIRLS GO TO HEAVEN

PAIRINGS: Natasha Romanoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 3,354

WARNINGS: smut, sex in a church, “bad boy” Nat, use of pet names, fingering, really badly written smut, talks of religion, Christianity, insults of God/the religion, ‘good girl’ R, friends with benefits kinda, sinning, mentions of masturbation, mentions of cunnilingus, innocent!R, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Everyone knew the family that lived across from you. Their father, Alexei, somehow made the most in the family with a job he wasn’t allowed to disclose. Some assumed he sold drugs, others thought he ran a prostitution business.

Their mother who you found out was named Melina didn’t acquire a job, she was the more mysterious type. She didn’t talk often, but the other mothers stopped inviting her to their book club when she had mentioned her awards from the gun range; you didn’t even know there was such a thing.

Their youngest, Yelena, somehow always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everyone knew she was the cause of whatever juvenile act was caused but her father seemed to ease any tension with cops due to a hefty pay way. That’s what everyone thought, at least, since most cops didn’t seem to enjoy the family.

And then there was their oldest, Natasha. She was mostly called Nat by her friends, but a skank from anyone else. She was often seen with red bloodshot eyes that were presumed to be the result of weed. She drank like there was no tomorrow and always ended up in the same place as Yelena, an overnight jail cell. If it wasn’t her sister causing problems then it was her, always.

You really didn’t understand the gossip around the four, sure they were a bit of an odd family, but what was the point of judging if they were happy? You guessed it was because of their religious beliefs, when they first moved to the town and your father invited them over for dinner, he was appalled when hearing their lack of faith. The mother believed in a higher power, but her conspiracy theories about such a thing were what set your father off. The rest of them were atheists, that’s when you knew they’d never be allowed in your sight.

Even with your age standing at 19 years old, your parents had all control over you. It was exhausting, you just wanted an escape from their extreme rules. And that’s when you truly met her, Natasha Romanoff.

You later learned that both she and her sister were adopted when she was only six and kept their last names. They weren’t biologically related, but they loved one another as if there were.

You kept your odd friendship hidden from others’ eyes in fear that your parents would find out. Your dad was the priest and very well-known among the town, he’d be beyond disappointed if he heard of such rebelish acts.

But Nat treated you better than anyone ever had, and you were happy when she was near, you couldn’t risk losing that. Your only other friends were the ones your parents had introduced you to because of their acquaintance with the guardians of them, and they were more boring than watching clothes dry.

Nat was fun, she brought excitement and rush. There was one time when she snuck you out of the house to go to a party her friend was holding, you came home feeling more guilty than ever with only two sips of alcohol in your system. And her parents liked you, and so did her sister. They were more laid back, and you found yourself wishing you had the same treatment back at home.

Your parents had wondered what friend you had been spending so much time with, even coming up with the thought of a possible boyfriend. You quickly shut that down with the excuse that you were just so busy with studying for college, it felt sickening to lie.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ve all sinned at least once in our lives,” Nat told you when you expressed your fears to her, it only made the guilt rise. You didn’t even go to the confession box to report your acts in case your father was on the other side and recognized who you were.

“Have you ever tried going to church?” You asked while standing in front of the full-body mirror. You were in your pink and white dress as you placed your earrings on, your hair being done up nicely with a headband to keep it out of your face. You had a light amount of makeup on in order to seem clean but not too clean, you already had to deal with enough catcalls daily. You were very well-known in your area and the boys used that to their advantage, it was honestly tiring. But you had to deal with it, that was presumably the role of a woman.

“Are you kidding? They’d probably hang me if they saw me there. Besides, it seems boring.” You rolled your eyes playfully and walked over to her bed where she laid comfortably. You begged your parents to let you stay at a friend's house and were lucky enough that they didn’t question it when you said the name of their friend’s daughter.

You held her hands in your own, wrapping yours around her fingertips and smiling down at her. You leaned down, kissing her on the cheek and giggling at the blush that covered her cheeks soon after.

“Aww, I thought someone as tough and cool as you didn’t blush?” You cooed in a mocking tone, receiving a soft shake of her head.

“I only blush for you, Cherry.” She loved calling you that after she had kissed you for the first time and tasted your cherry lipstick. Of course, she didn’t put a label on you two and told you it was a friendly act, that everything you did together was saved for only the most important friendships. That meant you weren’t allowed to do such things with anyone else, not even your other friends. But she didn’t break that rule either, so it was only fair.

“Stop calling me that.” You whined, causing a dark laugh to erupt from her.

“But you’re my little cherry, so sweet and tasty.” It was a reminder of your first time shared together when her mouth found place in your most sacred region. She told you it didn’t count as committing adultery unless she was inside of you, so she was allowed to please you all she wanted.

You broke yet another rule when you first masturbated after a phone call with her late in the night. You felt so ashamed, you called her back while sobbing into the phone, little did you know she wasn’t grossed out, she was only smirking. She asked you to tell her exactly what you did, and when you made sure to add that you denied yourself release, she begged you to continue in hopes of hearing you cum for her. You did, just like you followed everything she said. It was almost as if you were her puppet, her toy, but you had never been happier being such.

“I think I should be the one calling you cherry with how red your hair is.” You muttered, running your fingertips through her soft locks and suddenly being reminded of the time you followed this exact routine while you were being thrown over the edge due to her tongue.

“Mm, that feels good.” She moaned, causing your breathing to quicken. “But don’t you have to get to Church before your daddy notices you’re gone, Cherry?” A small pout adored your lips as you had to say your goodbyes, promising to visit her later when you were to sneak out late into the night. You had started becoming an expert at such, but it didn’t rid you of the guilt and shame you held in your heart afterward.

“Sorry I’m late, Daddy, I hope I didn’t miss too much.” You said to the man, kissing his cheek as he gave you a small side hug. His lips landed on your head before pulling away with a smile.

“Nonsense, we were just about to start, angel.” Nat often made fun of you jokingly for your close relationship with your father, but you had just gotten used to the nicknames for each other. You didn’t seem to understand her teasing over what you called him, and whenever you asked she chuckled and told you not to worry, but you wanted to worry. You wanted to understand her and her remarks, all of her friends did, why couldn’t you?

You sat next to your mother and in front of a few people you had grown familiar with. You gave a small wave before turning your attention back to the stand where your Dad stood. He gave you a tight-lipped smile and thanked everyone for coming as you all started your prayers.

There was a creak suddenly heard as the doors to the Church failed to be opened quietly. It was a natural response for multiple heads to be turned, the priest faltering on his words as he tried to remain calm. It was Nat, why was she here?

She was known for causing trouble so it was expected when whispers could be heard amongst the room. She sat behind you and noticed your head not facing her, but you knew she was there. The people next to her scooted over as best they could without creating attraction or seeming as rude. Mark 12:31 ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ it was impossible to do such a thing when a delinquent like herself was right there.

You suddenly felt a small vibration against your thigh where your phone rested and quickly checked it in order to not get a stern talking to from your mother. It was from Nat, telling you to meet her in the bathroom in five minutes. You looked behind you discreetly, seeing the alluring smirk that covered her face.

Five minutes had passed by slowly, and Nat had already left halfway through the wait. She didn’t want it to look suspicious, nobody would notice if she was gone but it would cause a few glances if you were.

You told your mother your planned destination and walked over, making sure to remain silent as to not disturb others.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered out angrily, but you weren’t exactly mad to see her. You worried that someone may have picked up notice on the two of you, surely they wouldn’t have, right?

“Shh, I just wanted to see you, принцесса (princess).” She chuckled and grabbed hold of your waist, pulling you into her as she tried to sneak kisses over your neck. Her Russian always affected you, she was able to pick up on that quickly.

“Is it so bad to visit my angel while they’re at Church?” You sighed as her lips continued their assault, you were praying no marks would be made. How would you be able to look your family and friends in the eyes after that?

“You know, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since this morning.” Her hands tugged on the top of your dress which showed a very little amount of cleavage. She wished she could see more, but knowing that they were for her eyes only was what got her going.

“Really?”

“Mhm, was thinkin’ about how pretty you look in this dress, and how pretty you’d look without it.” Your eyes fluttered shut as her palm ran up and down your thigh, getting closer to the restricted area. She guided you to the sink where you sat on the counter, your legs subconsciously parting while she moved to stand between them.

“W-we’re in Church, Natty, everyone is right outside.” She lifted the end of your dress further up until it rested on your upper thighs. Your panties made their way to her eyesight as she gasped when seeing them, a smirk coming to place on her face.

“Oh, baby…is this all for me?” You shyly nodded with a blush adorning your cheeks. You felt so exposed, so open. But she loved you like this, it was her favorite sight to see.

“Yeah? You got all dolled up for me?” She removed her leather jacket along with her shirt, leaving her in a black bra and jeans. Her abs were on display along with her biceps, you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and touching them, shuddering at the feel.

“Like what you see, huh?” She didn’t stop her teasing of your soft skin, forming a sort of obsession with how it felt in her hands. Your chubby thighs looked so cute, she just wanted you to wrap them around her head while she ate you out.

“You keep getting bruises and cuts, I don’t like you hurting yourself.” She grasped your chin in her fingertips, causing you to look back up at her. You bit your lips while staring at her own.

“I’m okay, I promise.” She kissed you with such passion, yet so softly. How she could do such a thing you didn’t know, but you knew you loved every second of it.

“You need to be more careful-”

“Hey, hey, there’s no need to worry your pretty little head off. I’ll try and be more careful, okay? For you.” Her answer satisfied you enough to let the topic drop and allow her to continue her pecks to your hungry lips.

“We don’t have a lot of time now, angel, we need to make this quick before someone notices you’ve been gone so long.” Her fingers toyed with the waistband of your undergarments while you spoke, dragging them back only to release them so it could slap against your skin.

Her digits were cold on your warm skin, sending goosebumps through your entire body. You clung to her body for support, just like you found yourself doing on multiple occasions.

“Please touch me, I-I want you to touch me.” She groaned in response to your worded confession. It was so tempting to just give in, but she wanted to hear it, she wanted to hear how badly you needed it.

“I’m already touching you, am I not?” You whined in hopes she’d understand your high demand. You could feel yourself soaking your panties the more she teased you through them, rubbing your clit in gentle circles before finally pushing the fabric to the side.

“Oh, you’ve made such a mess, baby! You want me to take care of it for you, hm?” You nodded as your hips shuffled closer to her. They were moving on their own at this point as you practically grinded into her.

“Be gentle, please?” She kissed your forehead after agreeing, trying to distract you and make you focus on anything other than the burning pain of her fingers stretching you out. It was only two, but it was enough to cause you to hiss out.

“It’s okay, it’ll feel so much better soon.” She reassured you, smiling when she started to hear low moans coming from your mouth. She started off slow, letting you adjust before increasing her pace.

“Nat- ah!” You let out a particularly louder whimper before she placed her hand over your mouth.

“As much as I admire your pretty noises, I don’t want anyone hearing them but me.” There was slight jealousy in her tone, but you were too enthralled in pleasure to care. If anything, it brought a sense of joy to know the hold you had over her. She was so enticed by your beauty that she didn’t want anyone else to have the pleasure of worshipping it.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous like this.” The sound of your juices sloshing against her fingers could be heard across the small room. She looked down at her watch and noticed five minutes had passed since you left for the bathroom, people had to be curious by now.

You could still hear the distant sound of your father’s booming voice leading the large group of Christians, it only brought a feeling of ignominy and arousal. It was so overwhelming to think that Natasha’s fingers were deep inside of you while your Dad, who held a deep hatred for the woman, was right next door. It was wrong, so deeply wrong, but it felt so right.

“Oh, God!” Her hand had removed itself from your mouth after a small warning, making your pleads now, once again, audible.

“That’s right, I’m your God, baby.” You grasped onto her shoulders as your legs wrapped around her waist, bringing you even closer and causing her to deepen further inside of your tight hole. She didn’t seem to care for the pain your nails caused to her skin, only welcoming it with a delighted hum.

“So tight and warm, you’re so fucking perfect, angel.” She watched her digits disappear before returning to her vision, causing you to follow her line of sight.

“You see that? See how well you’re taking me?” Words seemed to fail from escaping your mouth as a hard thrust from her fingers seemed to have found your spot, the coil in your stomach only tightening further at the newfound feeling.

“Natty, I’m gonna-” You forced yourself into silence when hearing a knock on the door, both of your heads snapping in the direction of the sound.

“Y/N? Are you okay in there?” You bit your lip when hearing your Mother’s gentle voice full of worry, turning back to look at Natasha who only grinned.

“If you want to cum, I suppose you should answer her.” You mustered up the courage to speak, but it ended up resulting in a high-pitched tone that only made the woman more confused.

“Yeah- fine! I’ll be out in a m-minute!” You listened for the approval that she had walked off and let you be, finally allowing yourself to set free the moans you had held back.

“Please…please let me cum, I’ve been so good.”

“If you ask me, I think I would have to say you’ve been everything but, cherry. I mean, letting me fuck you in a Church, the House of God, don’t you feel dirty? Or are you too drunk on my fingers to care?” The realization settled in, you truly were too hungry for her bliss, you were starving. You were a sinner, yet no one ever told you it felt so stimulating to do so. Maybe if you had known how good it felt you wouldn’t have been so pristine, you would’ve been able to remember an enjoyable time that wasn’t just spent with Nat. You’d be free.

“I like being your dirty girl..” It was near impossible to hear, but Nat was able to scoop it out. It made her falter for just a moment, only for you to then feel her grip on your waist tighten.

“You drive me fucking crazy, baby girl.” The room was filled with the stench of sex, easy to sniff out. Her palm was repeatedly brushing against your clit, only causing you to pulse more. You were throbbing, her touches weren’t enough.

“C’mon, make a mess for me, you dirty fucking slut.” The degrading name was what sent you over the edge, never had you thought you’d get off to such disrespect but here you were, coating another woman’s fingers while she spewed words of venom.

“Good girl.” She dragged out, letting you ride your high as your head hid in her shoulder. Your legs shook uncontrollably, the waves of pleasure crashing over you and forcing silent screams out of you.

“I want more.” She mustered out a small laugh that was painted over with her ragged breaths, it sent you a rush of excitement and fear.

“I’ll give you more later. But for now, why don’t you go back out there and try not to think about me too much, alright?” You nodded, stepping out of the bathroom and returning to your seat where you then realized the lack of panties covering your exposed body. She kept them for herself without a plan of returning them, you practically stalled in your spot at the recognition. You still had another hour until you were permitted to leave, you were so screwed, and she loved knowing it.

[queers-gambit]

All Mine

title citation: song by Brent Faiyaz

prompt: ( requested ) you and Tangerine break up, and the man you date after is a serious downgrade. on a night out, Tangerine decides your story isn't yet finished.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 7k+

note: did i use this gif already? yes. but it fits the theme of this story.

warnings: same drill - Tan's government name is Aaron, Lem's is Brian. cheater!Reader (not on but with Tan, you'll see), some angst, break-ups, but overall hurt and comfort, happy ending, small NSFW, random "State Farm" quote (not sponsored), smoking indoors, brief domestic aggression, brief violence (it's Tan), term "going postal" used, not edited. "not all men" only applies to Tan i don't make the rules.

We begin today by discussing the concept of soulmates.

World renowned Ancient Greek philosopher, Plato (born Aristocles, not to be mistaken for Aristotle), once theorized that humans were originally created with four arms, four legs, and two faces. The Greek God, Zeus, motivated either by fear of man's potential power or the need to reprimand their arrogant pride, decided to punish humans by severing them into two perfect halves - dooming them to roam the Earth in search of their whole self.

According to Ancient Chinese mythology, The Red String of Fate (tied by the Lunar matchmaking God, Yue Lao) says lovers who are destined to be are tied together through lifetimes by a red string - the color that symbolizes happiness - regardless of time, place, or circumstance. This string might stretch or tangle (like all relationships), but will never break.

Some Western cultures believe in the idea of simple "soulmates", two people destined to meet and love one another unconditionally. They thought their souls are someway, somehow intertwined - be it in the stars, by the cosmos, or even some intrusive, baby-presenting, diaper-wearing, winged fucker named Cupid. "Soulmates" operate as two halves of one whole, yet still remain two separate individual persons. The idea originates from Plato's theory, but essentially affirms: there's a perfect someone for everyone.

Other cultures might say their religious deity or just faith in said religion is peoples one, true love. Some argue a "soulmate" isn't a romantic partner at all, but instead, a person's twin. You know, same womb, same "soul", that kinda reasoning.

Akin to the Greeks, theosophy claims God created androgynous souls, and these souls were individually split into the two genders they once were. Each half seeks the other, and when their karmic debt is paid (being a reason they were split in the first place), the two halves will return to their whole, true self.

and before anyone says anything about gender, remember, these theologies originate from a time that a modern day Taco Bell dollar menu burrito would literally make the theologists implode!

Some New Age philosophy says a soulmate is a totally separate entity (meaning, not split or derived from us), and who spends lifetimes as your friend, lover, co-worker, partner. Soulmates are the greatest union of the heart, no matter the shape or form it presents as; being two connected souls. Hence platonic soulmates, as well.

Other common literary soulmate idioms:

cut from the same cloth -> meaning being so in-tune and similar in characteristics, demeanor, and / or behavior, you "must've" come from the same place.

apple of my eye -> while, yes, it means being extremely important to a person, it also could mean being the "core" of your lover's heart and / or soul; similar to how an apple core keeps the fruit's integrity.

better / other half -> it's 2 am, this is pretty self explanatory.

ride or die -> again, self explanatory - but indicates that a soulmate will live life loyally with you in good and bad times.

match made in heaven -> being absolutely SO perfect for each other, your love was crafted by divine intervention in the eternal kingdom of heaven - where a thing or two about "soulmates" might be known.

my heart and soul -> your love being so strong, so right, it takes over logic and emotion; and intoxicates your very soul - your entire being.

No matter what approach you take, what you do or don't believed, there was no denying: Aaron was your soulmate.

That arrogant, smug, sarcastic, devilishly handsome, mysterious, devious, sneaky, alluring, intelligent, bitchy, suave, charming, intuitive, opinionated jackass who used the operative codename Tangerine.

But to you, he was Tan. Tangie. Aaron. Ace. The love of your life.

You couldn't avoid it. There was no wishing him away, no genie to appear for your third wish. There was no point in trying to avoid or deny your feelings anymore, they were an 18-wheeler and there was no crosswalk in sight; and that's where everything fell apart - realizing you were ready and willing for this emotion to come barreling into you. When things got serious, when you were ready for distinct, specific commitment, Aaron suddenly reared back and put so much distance between you, it was as if he catapulted into a different timezone.

You had been at a mutual friend's birthday party, and after several rounds of alcohol, where everyone was good and buzzed and happy in their own little worlds, incidentally toppled into a public showdown.

"What's the rush?" Aaron asked you, tears inconceivably dribbling down your cheeks one-by-one while stood in a packed-out bar. "Huh? What's your rush to get married? Things have been so good, doll - so fucking good - and you want to ruin that? This isn't - "

You barked, "'Ruin that'? Ruin, what, exactly!? Aaron, we've been together five years - five fucking years, half a bloody decade - how could you possibly say you don't know if you want to marry me or not yet!?"

"It's not you, love - "

"It's not me, it's marriage that scares you!?" You snarled, so used to hearing it, you can quote him.

"Yes!"

"It's the same difference! You love me, but marriage is so scary, it's not worth it, even with me! No matter how much you say you love me, right? You just can't - no, no! - you won't love me enough to marry me! Because you're capable of it, you're capable of loving me enough, but you're much more comfortable being an emotionless jackass - "

"No, no, don't go putting words in my mouth," he groaned, head tilting back, shaking his curls as he rightened to look at you. "Baby, just listen to me, please, neither of us are in a state to have this conversation - "

"We never are, according to you! It's never the right time, the right energy, right setting! What's the issue, Aaron? Huh?" You felt your anger crack and chip away like a hard boiled egg, revealing the soft emotion inside. "What's the real problem being with me? With marrying me?"

"We're just - we're so young!"

"Try again."

"You're just not thinking about - "

"Oh, no, but I am!" You snapped, setting your nearly empty glass to the bartop and shocking yourself (and the eavesdropping bartender) that it didn't shatter. "I am thinking, Aaron, I'm finally thinking about myself - for once - and I know what I want! And you know what? I'm not afraid anymore to ask for what I know I deserve!"

Aaron scoffed, shaking his head as he did when faced with confrontation. "Neither of us are drunk or sober enough to get though this conversation, so... Let's just..." He trailed, brows furrowing when you shook your head with a hateful scoff, yanked from his grip, and stormed away. But he quickly snatched your upper arm, halting your escape, demanding, "Wait, wait, wait, hang on, love. What are you doing? Where are you going?"

"Away from you - "

"They haven't even cut the cake, baby, c'mon, the night is still early - "

"Excuse me while I don't want to stand around here with my ex-boyfriend in front of our friends pretending to be happy."

"What're you - ex-boyfriend?" He stuttered in genuine hurt and confusion.

In that moment, like divine intervention to semi-prove your point, Brian, Aaron's brother, who used the codename Lemon, dropped in. Tangerine let go of you to not make it look like he was holding you in place. "S-Sorry, I know this looks tense, but, uh, bruva," Brian showed Tangerine his phone, "we've gotta go, man..."

"We're in the middle of something, Lem."

"I get that, but... Duty calls, mate."

Tangerine sighed, hand through his hair, turning to you in what you used to think was real empathy. "I-I'm so sorry, love, I have to go - but we'll finish this conversation when I get home, okay? Yeah?

You sniffled and nodded sadly, "See? You see? You love your job more than me, that literally in the middle of a fight about marriage, you're gonna go. Did you see how easy that was for you? Yet you can't love me enough? In a much less high-stakes situation?" With another nod, but this time out of realized confirmation, you breathed, "I'm done, Tangerine." He knew you were serious when you reverted back to his codename; stripping the personal warmth from your tone. "Okay? I'm done. I can't do this anymore, it's absolutely unfair. You've made it clear, you don't want to marry me, so, that's fine, but I'm not in the business of wasting anymore time than I already have. Now," you took a breath, "we can talk later about getting your shit outta my place, probably after your mission, but until then, just please, leave me the fuck alone."

You swore that was going to be the end. It was supposed to be. There was never supposed to be a relapse. Never an epilogue. The Tangerine / Aaron chapter was closed, the entire book was supposed to be closed!

But when you're single for the first time in five years, you kinda forget how to casually date.

There's dating apps, which, as some might know, is just a nightmare experience. There's sometimes local singles events - but they're not always the vibe you usually want to spend your energy on. Matchmakers were (apparently) thousands of wasted dollar. Dating coworkers is typically ALWAYS weird unless you're Jim and Pam, or Meredith and Derek, or whatever other couples TV romanticized. Reality dating shows? That air out all your business? PASS. Taking your mother's recommendations? PASS. Especially if she has her little "church friends" trying to set you up, too? HARD PASS. Sometimes, you just start praying for a hunky Italian Mobster to abduct you - it honestly sounds a little easier (read: this is sarcasm)! Your friends try to set you up, but it usually doesn't click, or it's a strange experience that makes you reject further offers. You could always hope a guy spills your coffee and offers to buy you a new one, which turns into you talk the day away - but life isn't a Glen Powell movie.

Oh, and don't even get me started on ghosting - fuck you if you ghost people, you immature coward.

So, sometimes, you get real lonely, start to feel a little self pity, like you made a mistake breaking up... And maybe you seek company in alcohol... And that alcohol can sometimes help you reminisce... Which exasperates the loneliness... And eventually, maybe that little devil on your should convinces your to text your ex... Which in turn, starts an entire precedent about it being "okay" to go back to him in times of need and desire, of desperation, sometimes of boredom, or even times of comfort.

Aaron had left you alone after the break up, he knew to give you space; so, when you start casually fucking about a year after ending things, it was you pulling all the strings. Women in power, ammirite? Though, Aaron didn't mind your use of him, he always thought the break-up was a fluke of some kind, something fleeting, temporary - hence why he left you alone to sort your feelings. Aaron knew he wasn't perfect, but neither were you; resulting in plenty of "negative" aspects of your relationship, but there were far more positives - more ups than downs - assuring you both know, this was real. This was love. This was true love. It was eternal and raw and passionate... But you couldn't wait forever for him to face his fears.

Until... One night, after hours in his sheets, from the side of his bed, you declared, "This was the last time, Aaron."

He watched you hook your bra, cigarette in his mouth. "Oh, yeah?" He mused, having heard it before. "All right, sweetheart. Same time next week, yeah?" Aaron laughed at his own joke, casually flicking ash into the bedside tray.

"No. I'm being serious, Ace," you sighed almost sadly. You stood to yank your panties and leggings up in one move; shifting your hips, wiggling a bit to adjust the feeling of tightly wadded cloth cutting through raw coochie. "Ryan and I, uh... We're, uh, you know," you cleared your throat, trying to situate your tee shirt without looking at him, "we're going exclusive."

"Uh-huh, is that so?"

"Yep."

"When was this decision made?"

"Oh, uh," you blanched, "the idea was proposed a couple days ago, but we're making it official tonight - "

"I've seen you 8 fucking times this week and it's only Tuesday - "

"I know - "

"What the fuck, Y/N!?"

You glared, "What do you want me to say, Aaron!?"

"That you're not being serious! We're supposed to be together, not whatever - "

"You knew that we were just fucking to blow off steam and fill certain voids, we weren't back together! You always knew one day, this was bound to happen."

"Why? Huh? Why fuck me, but date him?"

"Because you're allergic to committeemen and Ryan isn't!"

"So, why do you keep comin' around? Why keep comin' back t'me, huh? If he's willing to commit, why're you the one fucking around on him? With me?" But the look on your face said it all, making Aaron laugh spitefully, "Ohhh, no, oh, sweetheart. Oh, don't fucking tell me, doll, he's not fucking you right?"

"For fuck's sake, would you please get off your high horse a single moment just to fuck off - "

"Why else would you keep coming back?" He demanded, smug as could be. "Don't wanna date me, but you'll fuck me? Oh, poor Ryan must really be lacking - "

"I told you, this is the last time."

"Yeah, uh-huh, sure," he laughed, leaning back, hands behind his head. "They all always say that before they come crawling back in my bed."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" You snarled, feeling more hurt than you should've. And Tangerine could read it all over your face. "I told you every man I slept with - granted it's only been two this past year, but still - are-are-are you saying there's been others? That you haven't told me about? Have you been fucking other people while fucking me?"

"Hang on, love, listen, I didn't mean - "

"I think I need to go, this was a mistake - all of this - coming back here, fucking you. I need to go," you huffed, stepping into your Crocs (for a quick escape), and rushing to grab your jacket, purse, and keys. The entire time, Tangerine was trying to amend what he said, but it felt like the (final?) nail in the coffin you had been waiting on; assurance that you needed to be without Aaron. See, upon your casual fuck, you agreed to date and sleep with others if you wanted - you weren't exclusive - but for reasons deemed useless now, you were supposed to tell one another about other partners. And he couldn't even do that?

So, you left his flat, and when he followed you out, he saw you disappear at Olympic sped down the staircase - key to his place left on the hallway floor.

"Well, well," his elderly cougar neighbor leaned in her doorway, watching you go with crossed arms and a smirk, "looks like li'l miss is gone finally, huh? This mean you're available for dinner tonight?"

Tangerine snatched the key from the ground, "Not tonight, Mrs. Roberts."

"It's 'Ms' now," she informed, but Tan didn't even hear; just slipped inside his flat, shut the door, locked it, and stood in the foyer, palm flat, looking at the key as if it were a foreign object, for 37 minutes.

Knowing how upset you were, Tangerine didn't try to contact you. Yet one week after your fight, when he knew your standing "Soul Cycle" class took place and you'd came by after, he set up his flat. He got you dozens of apologetic roses all mixed with bright sunflowers and dotted with baby's breath - bouquets he put together himself. Candles lined the place, all lit within fire code restrictions. He played light, modern instrumental music because he knew it had been on your Spotify playlist - not that he was checking it or anything. He cooked your favorite meal by hand. He cleaned himself up, styled his hair, wore the cologne you got him for your first Christmas together (that he's never changed), and wore the baby blue button-up he knew drove you crazy. To top it all off, he got a very dainty golden bracelet - one that was nice enough to convey the amount he spent (as if money = sincerity of apology) but still simple enough that Ryan wouldn't notice if it became part of your normal jewelry box. In fact, nobody would - except you and Tangerine, the way he likes things. The bracelet is even engraved with a subtle 'A' because no matter who you date, he always knew you'd be his and he'd be yours - but wouldn't point this out to you... Yet.

Your class ends at 6:30, you were never later than 7:05. He was ready and waiting at the door, going over his apology by 6:15. He changed into a new, identical shirt at 6:33 after sweating through the first; drying himself, spraying extra antiperspirant over his torso. He changed the tissue wrapping of his offering bouquet so it wasn't wet from his sweaty palms when he gave it to you at 6:41. At 6:46, he began pacing. Aaron began impulsively checking his phone at 6:53. He didn't have your location anymore (a con to the break-up he strongly protested out of fear for your safety) so he couldn't check if you were lost, in trouble, in traffic, at that smoothie place you loved. 7:15 rolled around, no key in the lock. At 7:22, he called Brian in a panic.

"What's wrong? She's just late, Aaron, take a breath, mate."

"She's never late."

7:30 turned to 8... Then to 9... And finally, at 10, Tangerine realized you were serious - that was the last time together.

The hurt suddenly set in, realizing you're not coming back. Selfishly, he knew, he could fill a void no man - even one as objectively good as Ryan - could. He knew you must've felt lonely; craving adventure and spontaneity, something exciting that he knew you lacked with Ryan - or any man.

For days, he agonized - trying to get in your head.

Without him, were you lonely? His job makes him travel, but did Ryan ever take you anywhere? Did he surprise you? Open your doors? Send you flowers? Keep you waiting? Did Ryan communicate with you in the way Tangerine knew you preferred? Was he kind? ...Were you alone?

He knew for a fact, when together, no matter what, he never made you feel unloved, under appreciated, devalued, taken for granted, but perhaps that changed when he began his allergic reaction to the prospect of marriage.

Two years. Two years since breaking up. One year since you ended your Friends with Benefits situationship. One year, you've been with Ryan, and by God, did it drive Aaron insane. For months, Brian felt a responsibility for his part in pulling Tan away that night instead of leaving him to work things out with you, but his brother assured it was a long time coming... Though, Tan had to admit, he never thought it'd go this long.

Like a good neighbor, Jake from State Farm is there! But like a good brother, Brian is there to take Aaron out for a night of necessary debauchery. This was an otherwise mundane activity, something to blow off steam and remove oneself from reality - yet fate works in really funny ways.

The club Lemon chose was packed to the brim; stuffed with bumping, sweaty bodies; strung out to blaring music in various zombified states induced by drugs, alcohol, or maybe both. Luckily, their group had an elevated position in the club's VIP seating, keeping away from the dance floor; giving limited advantage in height when surveying the area.

That's how Tangerine saw you after a year.

Judging from the glittery sash and cheap tiara on your friend's head, he guessed you were there for a birthday party; feeling his stomach knot itself into a noose when he noted Ryan hovering around your flank. He wore khakis, loafers, a creased, pale yellow button-up he guessed was thrifted; holding his drink in one hand, the other shoved in his pocket, bobbing and nodding awkwardly to the thumping music.

When you moved, so he Ryan. When you threw back a shot, Ryan looked away with a long, heavy sigh and curled lip. When you tried to dance, Tangerine saw Ryan snatch your upper arm to reprimand directly in your ear; a couple of your friends even shooting him looks of distain.

A hand clapped heavily on his shoulder, Lemon appearing at Tan's side. "Only you would come t'a club, mate, crawlin' with babes, yeah?" He gestured to the scantily dressed women dancing provocatively around them with his hand holding a drink, "And stand here, like-like, you're Lurch or some shit!"

"'Lurch'?" Tangerine repeated, eyes never straying from where you were in an obvious disagreement with Ryan.

"Like - you know - from the Addam's Family? Tall fucker? Just stands 'round, leering?" Lemon listed intentionally, seeing his brother unmoving. "Jesus, fuck, mate, just go talk to her already! Swear, you stand here any longer, watchin' people, they'll toss us out 'cause of the complaints. Shape up, mate, time t'shit or get off the pot. Move it."

Tangerine finally adjusted his stance, sniffling, shaking his head, "Nah, mate, don't know what you're talkin' 'bout - "

"She's right fuckin' there," Lemon pointed, outing his brother completely, "and you've been a bitch for too long about this. When are you gonna get another chance like right now? Swallow your fuckin' pride, yeah? And just go talk to her! Go apologize! Get her back! 'Cause, just look at her, mate," Lemon paused, both watching you, "think she's happy with a bloke like that? Treats her like that? Only time I ever saw her look at you like that was the night youse two broke up..."

Lemon offered a pursed-lip-smile, patting Tangerine on the shoulder twice and backing up a couple paces. It was like he watched the final bit of confidence Tan needed inject itself into his heart; shoulders almost doubling in size as he shed his suit jacket too casually. Lemon materialized to accept it, laying it in their private booth as Tangerine lit up a cigarette, pocketed his solid gold cuff links, and began rolling up his sleeves while surging through the VIP section and into the general population.

Lemon followed swiftly, several others on their tail as the promise of excitement was too good to pass up.

"I'm telling you, you're being fucking embarrassing!" Ryan was heard snarling. "Let's go home before you make it worse! I have a reputation to protect, imagine what anyone would say if they saw my girlfriend acting like a fucking fool!"

"Oh, Jesus, I have two shots and you think I'm wasted? That I have to go home? You think you can treat me like I'm some child? I'm not going anywhere with you," you snapped back.

"I told you we'd be here an hour - it's past that - "

"Oh, for fuck's sake, it's a birthday party! We weren't ever going to stay just an hour!"

"You're embarrassing yourself, now let's fucking go!" Ryan grabbed you again to emphasize his point, but you didn't even get a chance to struggle because Tangerine was imposing himself between you; plucking his smoldering cigarette from his lips, French inhaling the smoke. Ryan snarled, forced back a step, "The fuck - "

"She said she's not going anywhere with you, so I suggest you walk away," Tangerine growled, smoke billowing from his lips.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Ryan scoffed, looking close to laughing.

"That's my girl you're fucking with, so, again, walk away," he lifted his cigarette for a puff.

"Tangie," you spoke gently, holding the back of his designer black shirt and gently tugging him backward, "Tangie, c'mon, baby, back up, let it go."

"'Your girl'?" Ryan actually laughed at Tan, not hearing you over the deafening music, but the two men were clear as day to one another. "Got it fucked up, playboy, if you're tryna tell me what's what about what's mine."

"Yeah?" Tan nodded, grinning slowly. "Think she's yours?"

"She ain't nobody else's - "

"That why she was coming to me this whole time?" Tan taunted. "'Cause you couldn't make her nut, couldn't fuck her right. What a fucking shame, then she had to come to me 'cause I don't disappoint her. She likes the way I fuck 'cause it's the only time I get rough with her, not like you - "

The gathered crowd gasped when Ryan swung first - everyone saw it. The punch never landed, Tangerine keeping you behind him as he adjusted to upper cut Ryan. It spurred an entire altercation; your girlfriends quickly scurrying out of the way as Ryan and "his boys" tried to take on Tangerine, Lemon, and their entourage. The smoldering cigarette was dropped. Security had to step in, blood making the linoleum floors slicker than spilt alcohol made it sticky, both parties being escorted out of different exits of the venue.

You were faced with a decision.

"Y/N! C'mon!" The birthday girl called, holding up her bloodied boyfriend. Ryan paused and glared at you, face fucked, nose broke, eye darkening, jaw swollen, blood smeared; waiting for your decision. You shook your head and let the drunken crowd swallow your form.

Unsure how, you were let into the VIP section to grab Tangerine and Lemon's belongings, quickly jogging in your glittering heels towards the back exit.

"Should've fuckin' killed him - did you fuckin' hear him!? You saw him, what he did!?" Tangerine was raging, pacing the alley as his group watched on; unsure what to say or do to calm him down. "He fucking grabbed her, too, should go find him - put his fucking face in the Goddamn pavement - "

"Hey."

Tangerine froze when your voice was heard, meekly standing there with suit jackets in arm.

"Baby girl!" Lemon barked, laughing happily and opening his arms. "Oh! There she is! C'mere!" He happily growled, hugging you tightly. The others picked up on the hint, excusing themselves to find the cars while Lemon greeted you and Tangerine almost shit a brick.

"Oh, uh," you breathed when Lem pulled away, "I grabbed your jacket, sweetie."

"Thanks, love, can always count on yah," he beamed, accepting the apparel. He glanced over his shoulder and nodded, "I, uh, I'll go help find the car. We'll be at the end of the alley, yeah?"

"Yeah," you agreed, nodding; squeezing his arm softly before letting him pass. Almost sheepishly, you approached Tangerine, lips rolled between your teeth, noting the split lip and disheveled curls. His hands were on his hips, pacing a small circle, head tilted and unable to meet your gaze. "You, uh, got a li'l something," you gestured at your mouth.

His head lifted, seeing the small teasing glint to your eyes; making him smirk and joke back, "Yeah, just a bit, huh?"

"And you left this," you held out his suit jacket.

When he took it back, Tangie nodded and rushed, "Come home, doll."

"Aaron - "

"Nah, nah, c'mon, come home, baby, please. I know I've been the worst, I know you didn't deserve it - but after losing you... Actually losing you... I mean, when you didn't show up, like you said - I felt everything at once and I knew that I'd never be the man who deserved you, but I owed it to us to try. So... I made the decision to love you better."

"That's nice to hear, but - "

"But without action, it don't mean shit, I know," he finished for you, stepping closer to caress your cheek. "If you let me, baby, I swear, I'll love you better."

You couldn't verbally answer, just sigh and lean forward to rest your forehead on his chest for just a moment of peace. "Thank you," you mumbled, "for earlier, when Ryan got aggressive."

His arms came around in a vice, keeping you close and enveloped in his warmth. Tangerine promised, "Never gotta thank me, baby. Never." A horn blared from the mouth of the alley, knowing it was Aaron's people and you needed to make a decision. Right here. Right now. Yet, your ex just sighed and pulled away, offering, "We can drop you home, if you like. Or I'll get'cha a hotel, can crash with Brian - "

"Can I stay with you?"

Tangerine gulped, appearing shocked but agreeing, "Of course, baby, yeah, yeah, 'course, c'mon, let's go, this way, watch your step, love."

He quickly dropped his arms only to pull his jacket over your shoulders; keeping you at his side as he lead you to the idling car. Unknown to you, Ryan was at his own car, watching, waiting; seeing you leave with Aaron made his blood boil - but when his eyes connected with Aaron's over the roof of his car, seeing him grin, Ryan swore he could've gone postal.

"Are you guys alright?" You checked, Tan keeping you so close, you were practically on his lap. Brian was driving and two other guys sat passenger, all giving varying assurances that they were okay.

"Them frat fucks couldn't hit for shit, love, swear," Brian chuckled from the front seat. "Don't nobody fuck with our girl, yeah?"

"'Our girl'?" You repeated in amusement.

"You's Tangie's girl, yeah?" The guy next to you, codename Fuji, softly explained, "Makes you's untouchable, it does, yeah?"

You just chuckled slightly, readjusting so your arm around Tan's neck tightened; his own around your hips doing the same, silently snuggling closer. The car ride was entertaining to say the least, the lads filling the space with meaningless but very loud conversation about everything and nothing. To your relief, Lemon pulled up to Tan's building first; you two piling out of the car to the sounds of three randy lads cheering.

"C'mere," Tan huffed, one arm wrapping around your waist as the other offered the tinted car The Bird. He lead you towards the building, nodding to the doorman in greeting, "Big man."

This doorman had manned your building since years before you ever moved in; grinning at the sight of you, "Well, well, well... You two look real smitten, you do. There some reason? Aye?"

"Oh, I don't wanna hear it!" You whined jokingly, Tangerine laughing in triumph.

"Got my girl back," Tan clapped his hand into the doorman's, "huh? Told you."

"Aye-heeeyyyy! Welcome home, Missus!"

"Tuh," you barked with a fake laugh, sending Tangerine a sharp look over your shoulder. "Thank you, Thomas," you squeezed the man's arm as you passed.

"Ma'am," he tipped his hat, letting Tan go after you, before securing the door shut.

"Hear that?" You shot at Tan, the lobby attendant sitting up in attention behind the welcome desk. "Even Tom - "

"Don't start before we even get in the door," he chuckled, sighing, nodding to the pimply teen nephew of the building's owner before approaching the elevator bay.

"Don't be a dick - "

"I'm not trying to be, love, I just - I want us to get inside before we do. Yeah?" He frowned, petting hair from your forehead as the elevator dinged upon arrival. "I want us to talk 'bout it, alluvit, doll, but let us get home first."

You sighed and agreed, the machinery traveling up to your flat's floor; which required a key to access. There were only four flats on this floor - all having two stories - and when the elevator dinged to announce your arrival, one of the doors flew open.

You gasped, hand slapping to your mouth to hold in the shrill laughter that rammed into your lips in a desperate attempt to escape. Your eyes widened. You stopped short in your place when Ms. Roberts sauntered into her doorway, leaning on the frame in brand new, expensive, racy lingerie. Her greying hair was curled in stiff ringlets, her make-up heavy and obvious, smelling like she had bathed in perfume by the way it choked you in the hallway.

"Oh, hello, there. About time you got home - OH!" She purred in a low, sexy rumble before jumping in fright when she caught sight of you under Tangie's protective arm. With a squeal, she ducked back into her home and slammed the door; leaving you and Tan froze in place.

"Oh... My... God."

"Get inside, let's go, c'mon, inside, inside, inside, I won't survive if she comes back," Aaron laughed, ushering you to the door.

"I don't think she would, either," you couldn't help but giggle; entering over the threshold after Tan unlocked the door.

The lighter energy surrounding you two evaporated as you took note that Tangerine hadn't changed anything in the year (and change) you've been separated, a haunting comfort to see now. There was the familiar ghost of who you once were, but all of that was forgotten when Tan's hand slid around your waist from behind.

"All right, love?" He asked in your ear, mouthing at the shell in the way that made your head fall to the side.

"Just a lot of memories here," you whispered, holding his arms to your waist.

Tangerine licked at your exposed neck. "We'll make more," he promised.

"I'm sorry I missed so many."

He paused, sighing; forcing you to shiver from the shock of air over your wet skin. Tan straightened up but kept you in his arms, assuring, "It's my fault. But, uh..." Your head turned to look, watching Tan pull his wallet out and sigh sheepishly, open it, then pluck a gorgeous diamond ring from the bill slot.

"What the hell is that...?"

"When I found it, I first kept it in the box, always on me. Just in case, you know, the moment was right - that you'd believe me when I ask you to marry me. But the box kinda," he shrugged, "fell apart from me openin' it, movin' it around."

"So you put a," you squinted, holding his wrist to look at the ring pinched in his fingers, "3 karat diamond ring in your wallet?"

"3 and a half..."

"Aaron," you sighed, turning to face him fully; unable to tear your gaze away from the ring. "I don't want this ring if - "

"No, no 'ifs'," he rushed, "I swear, it's what I want - it's what I've always wanted and just couldn't admit. After tonight, I don't think I can keep this ring - it needs on your finger and that bastard needs put in the ground - "

"Can you not ruin this proposal by threatening to murder my ex?" You laughed, watching his split lips spread into a grin.

"This a proposal?"

"If you word it right, could be."

"Lemme get on my knee - "

"No," you stopped him, nodding, whispering, "just ask me."

Aaron blinked once in confusion, then simply asked, "Will you marry me?"

You levitated into his arms; arms coiling around his neck; lips to his; sucking air from his lungs into yours, mumbling, "Yes, yes, yes," repeatedly. In surprise, Aaron stumbled back a few steps but caught himself, chuckling, fully hoisting you into his embrace.

"Right answer," he teased, carrying you through the apartment and to the nearest piece of furniture - the couch. Dropping down with you straddling his lap, he chuckled, "Here, put it on, yeah? Keep it safe." You grinned and accepted the ring, letting him slide it on, but unable to admire it in full as it became a free-for-all frenzy; tearing clothes from the other, lips suckling, teeth clashing, spit smearing. Breaking apart for a moment, Tangerine growled, "I don't know if I love or hate tonight, huh? Seein' you with him, sayin' you'll marry me, comin' home - "

"Ace, Tangie? Baby?" You smirked, holding his cheeks to keep his face in front of yours, "Tonight's good - it's a good night. Yeah?"

He nodded, "Yeah."

"It's a good night - say it."

"A good night - great night."

"Great fuckin' night," you agreed, "now, I need you to fuck me before I spontaneously combust - "

Aaron's mouth was on yours before the words were fully formed. You gasped, holding on tightly, encouraging his tongue to tangle with yours as the night's emotions overtook you both in a searing heat of passion. His hands planted on your hips and began guiding your movements in slow, languid strokes over his growing bulge you were seated on.

With a small growl, Tangerine pulled back only to flip you over; laying your back to the cushions so he could hover over you, his hips grinding between your spread legs. "Mine," he grit, licking into your mouth as he pushed his cock directly into your moistening center, "all mine. Hear me? All fucking mine - you won't ever be with another man. Yeah?"

You weakly whimpered, nodding; his teeth catching your bottom lip and pulling. Your breast was palmed by a hot and heavy hand; gasping when Tangie pinched your nipple through the fabric of your dress.

"Nah, nah, nah," Tan grumbled, "wanna hear you say it, baby. Need to hear it."

Boldly, you reached out to rub the heel of your palm into his leaking member, managing to speak against his lips, "I'm all yours, Aaron. Never anyone else's."

"Yeah?" He grit.

"Yeah," you nodded, giving a flex of your hand that made his shoulders stiffen, "and no other man will know me - nor will I know another man. It's you and me."

"About fuckin' time; ain't never lettin' you go again, baby," he breathed, taking both wrists in his to pin over your head. "Now... Let me make up for this past year."

Ms. Roberts wore noise canceling headphones the entire night and began researching new apartment buildings available for move-in ASAP.

Dawn broke, filling the room with a warm, bright light that accentuated the smoke wafting from Aaron's mouth. Neither of you got any sleep; exhausted in the best way possible, laid in bed, your head on his shoulder with arms bent to mindlessly twiddle together in the air.

"Remember that first retreat your company sent employees on?" Aaron asked softly, his other hand flicking his cigarette ash into a nearby ashtray.

"Hm... The one to Cancún?"

"Yeah."

"The one I missed 'cause we had a 48-hour romp?"

Tangerine laughed slightly, "That's the one."

"What about it?"

"Just... Laying here made me think of it. How fucked-out you were, how you missed your damn plane."

"You made me miss it!"

"That sounds accusatory."

You grinned when he lowered the cigarette to your lips, letting you puff it before pulling away. On exhale, you reminded, "You're the one who couldn't cut me a damn break."

"Since when do you want me to go easy on this pussy? Huh?"

With a snicker, you mused, "When you're whiskey-drunk and I'm drinking champagne?"

Tangie paused, then nodded, "Yeah, all right, that's fair. Whiskey dick ain't a joke, love."

You hummed and turned on your side into him, hiking your leg over his hips; snuggling into his warmth, new angle allowing you to gaze up at him. His arm laid around you in a secure hold, the other lazily smoking. You added, "Neither is being champagne drunk, makes me queazy."

"Probably not the best combination for fucking, huh?"

"I don't recommend it."

Aaron was quiet a moment, inhaling toxic smoke with a hiss through his teeth, "Bet they got champagne on them planes to Cancún."

"Bet they got champagne for other destinations, too," you teased. "Besides, why do you care? You're banned from popping bottles."

"Huh? Since when - why?"

"Since you sprayed me with a bottle that cost more than $3,000 USD!"

"If I can't spray my girl in luxury, what the fuck is this all for?" He smirked, looking down at you fondly.

"That bottle was meant to shmooze the German Ambassador!"

"Well, someone should've put a label on it!" You laughed his name, feeling his arm tighten. He tacked on, "Y'know, I gotta admit, just doesn't feel real yet."

"Hmm?"

"You... Back in my arms, in our bed - our home," he gave a great big deep sigh.

"It'll get real when people know we're back together."

"Is it wrong I want it to just be us for a bit? Private, intimate, just being together without everyone's outside influence or opinion?"

You smiled softly, "No, it's not wrong... I'd be lying if I said I didn't want the same."

"Then how about we catch a flight outta here?"

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon," he beamed, suddenly struck with renewed vigor; positively radiating with excitement. You pulled off his chest in time for him to sit up, insisting, "Let's do it all again, baby. Let's catch a flight, change the weather to celebrate us promising forever."

"Tangie, baby, what're you talking about? We can't just up and leave - "

"Why not?"

"We have jobs! Or at least, I have a job with a consistent schedule."

"Oh, c'mon, doll, don't think too hard - let's go, let's catch a flight somewhere warm and sunny."

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

Tangerine shrugged, "Not likely. Can think of it as some engagement celebration - but just between us. I mean, it's never gonna be 'just us' again, you know?"

With a sigh, you agreed, "All right... Let's go."

"All right?"

"Yeah, all right, fine."

"Yeah? All right? Fine?"

"Oh, fuck about - don't parrot me, Aaron!"

He chuckled with a grin so wide, you wondered how it didn't split his face in two. Your fiancé playfully dropped onto your front; jostling the bed, arms planted on either side of you to keep his weight balancd while dotting rapid kisses around your face.

When satisfied, he pulled back and all but bounced out of bed while encouraging, "Let's go, c'mon!"

"Baby, wait - "

"You grab the passports, I'll pack for us!"

You paused to watch him rush into the walk-in closet, laughing and muttering as you climbed out of bed, "I'm gonna be in questionable clothing this whole vacation, aren't I?" There was a fond smile on your face.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[martiansodas-blog]

Hi! I was just reading your art donaldson head cannons and when I read this part specifically:

♡ wouldn’t mind having a slightly younger partner. he’d like teaching them things and it’d boost his ego a little bit. you two would tease each other about your age all the time.

I immediately new I had to request a one shot ( I think thats what they’re re called ) of them actually teasing each other maybe a bit nswf but yeah so if you could make one 🙏🥹

🎾 🤍💐✨🎀

“you keep me young.”

“and you gave me my first gray hair, can we go now??”

art liked to imagine you old with all gray hair and fine lines. him standing right by your side.

but he’s getting ahead of himself.

“ya know speaking of hair, you should let me use my curly products on you!”

“you don’t think i’ve outgrown that?”

“are you kidding? it would look so good on you now! i’ve only seen pictures of you with a mop on your head i want to experience it first hand.”

he rolled his eyes but the crinkles around them brought by your cheekiness was prevalent. he can’t hide anything around you.

“alright. you’ve convinced me.”

the two of you were chatting in a local coffee shop. there are a dozen cafes closer but you love this one. and art loves whatever you love. it has personality. they make their syrups from scratch and have a little patio for when it’s sunny.

the man was already convinced you were an angel, but the sun behind you giving you a halo was icing on top.

art drowned in your beauty.

the kind of beauty that made everyone else in the room look bad.

the kind that made you create a whole album in your phones photo app.

he made sure you knew just how stunning you were.

but your beauty was also the least interesting thing about you.

“thanks for taking me here.”

“of course. we really don’t come here as often as we should.”

“it’s out of the way. i’d feel bad if you had to fill up your car AND pay for my meal.”

you said it jokingly but it’s easy to feel guilty that about art spoiling you to the extent that he does. you didn’t have much to give in return.

art takes your smaller hand in his and plays with your fingers. the next time he speaks it’s quieter, and with fervor.

“you are a gift, my gift. you were sent to me.”

he looks into your eyes.

“everything i get to do for you is a joy, ok?”

art wasn’t raised religious, frankly he thinks most of them are bullshit. he never thought about believed in fate.

until you.

it took some getting used to- being appreciated on this level.

boys your age could never worship you the way art does.

you were younger than art, yes. but he wasn’t attracted to you because you were mailable. he was attracted to you because you were brilliant. you were passionate, funny, and if you disagreed with someone you stood your ground. you brought a fresher perspective to his life.

with that being said, he still wants to protect you from the big bad world.

you can defend yourself in every sense of the word, but why would you need to when you have a rich experienced man by your side? there’s a lot of people out there who don’t have the best intentions. especially with a girl in her twenties. that’s where art comes in.

he decides that you still need some convincing even after today's date, so he keeps you in his master bedroom for a few hours.

he wants to rewire your brain and ruin anyone else for you.

“you don't get it, do you? when i said i liked you, it wasn't just skin deep. ive got some bad intentions. i wanna take every inch of you and make it mine; i want you to breathe for me, eat for me, i want all of your orgasms to be because of me.”

the only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you

[teecupangel]

(sorry in advance, I've been stewing over this for so long that this will be a long one xd)

I was re-reading your fics on ao3 again (sue me, im starved for desmond time travel content) and whilst reading Eagle of Alamut's description i realised '...wait a damn minute, it is true! all of Desmond's knowledge on past is from his ancestors!' (not everyone is as big of a nerd as shaun). Cue weeks of relentless daydreaming over Desmond in Reneisance Italy trying his damnest to lay low... but: 1) he does not know what is socially acceptable at the time (clothe and behaviour wise)

2) the animus likely shielded it's users from the more... er.. unsaviory historical accuracy (child marriage, smell, violence and mistreatment towards the poor, women, disabled)

3) politics, culinary arts, medicine and money value from that era are not common knowledge (or even fully known to todays historians)

4) Ezio was not known for his subtility...

...so while desmond may know who to strike in order to protect Ezios family from getting executed, what places he may know to avoid if he wants to avoid attention from the italian brotherhood.

He does not know what he was getting himself in to when he decided to travel back in time.

I can just imagine him thinking that he can finally retire and live his life, but then BOOM here comes the shock of sociatal injustices! religious violence! inequality! horrendous mistreatment of beggars and disabled people! and as a good man raised in the 21st century he obviously can't, in his right conciousness, just turn his back on these issues, on these people.

So here he is, in Rome of all places, doing his best to atleast stay hidden from the Auditore's, and consequesntly, the Italian brotherhood's, detection, as he stalks the bright rooftops of Roma as histories (probably) very first assasin turned vigiliante!

I can just picture him at one point or another, getting mistaken for a Spanish assasin and his only attempt at 'confirming' (read: encouraging misleading rumours), is to use the very little languistic knowledge the American education system has bestowed upon him. cue him very awkwardly trying to immitate a Spanish accent/ speak in Spanish. or just, you know, say the only words every student knows, 'Feliz Navidad'.

It would be so funny if Desmond’s Spanish are based on:

1) what little remains of Ezio’s Spanish (maybe on par or even worse than his French)

2) Basic Spanish that he learned on the Farm

3) Spanish songs he heard

So people think that Desmond is eccentric.

And Rich.

Because Desmond wants to help people but he doesn’t want to be seen as an Assassin so…

He becomes a supposed rich Spanish (Arabic would have sent a red flag to the Brotherhood) noble who came to Rome to live a life away from his ‘family’.

Why is he ‘rich’?

Well, killing nobles and other ‘evil doers’ will flag the Brotherhood as well so it would be better to just…

Leave certain incriminating evidence in the doors of their enemies and let them duke it out. Hey, if some things go missing while they’re too busy with their enemies, that’s just collateral damage.

Also…

Sometimes, things go missing when some people get into accidents.

It’s easy to buy the impoverish area in Rome. It’s a bit challenging to get doctors to treat them.

Until Desmond flashed the right amount of money, of course.

Desmond manages to stay under the radar by being part of the upper echelon.

An eccentric foreigner who helps the poor and sick out of the goodness of his heart.

Or… because he apparently believes that the way to heaven is through good will and not… paying the clergy.

Desmond knows that being seen as completely good is a bad thing as well so he lets rumors spread that he’s an opportunist who heals the sick and protects the weak to receive their loyalty. He gives them salary to become his guards (not that he needs any) and people whisper how loyal the poor are to someone who gives them bread.

And to hammer in that “no, Ezio, I am absolutely not connected to the Templars BUT I’m also not going to be a good ally, just leave me alone!” plan he has, he becomes a patron of the art.

Sexually progressive art.

The church hates him but tolerates him because Desmond does ‘donate’ (jokes on them, he donates what he stole from the church) and the artists love him because he commissions stuff with the same thing over and over again “whatever you want to paint/sculpt/work on but I want the Borgia men getting fucked in the ass while Lucrezia Borgia watches”

He’s not rich enough to actually be a threat (especially after Ezio starts wrecking shit up) and he keeps to himself most of the time.

But, of course, life always has it out for Desmond and he comes face to face with a wounded recruit at the edge of his property and…

Well…

He only wanted to heal him then send him on his merry way.

He didn’t expect Ezio to come barging in thinking said recruit has been kidnapped by the eccentric ‘possibly sexual deviant’ Lord Miles.

[hnychn]

I AM HIM, AS HE IS ME

SUMMARY — If there is anything that is universally acknowledged to be wholly true and incontestable, it’s that Gojo Satoru loves his daughter more than anything in the world. But does she know that?

AUTHOR’S NOTE — i got into a huge argument with my father a while back and it’s been weighing on my conscience. this series is largely based on our relationship and it’s been so therapeutic to write everything out and indirectly give myself an ending i want. the series isn’t complete, if anything, it’s no where near done. i want to make sure everything is perfect before i even think about posting the first chapter. its been so long since i’ve felt this strong need to write and i forgot how much of a beautiful feeling it is. everywhere i look and everything i see gives me so much inspiration for this series. but for now, here’s a little sneak peak of my new child.

(i am him as he is me spotify playlist)

SERIES WARNINGS — heavy religious themes, female reader, satosugu, heavy angst, child abuse, childhood neglect, reader is a brat in the beginning, reader is assumed to be a person of color…

TOTAL WORD COUNT — tbd…

BEFORE YOU READ — the reader is mentioned to be a third year at jujutsu tech, and i completely understand the ages and time line don’t add up, but for the sake of creativity, let’s all just pretend it makes sense and ignore the age inconsistencies. <33 thank you!! <33

PREVIEW —

The rhythmic buzz of the cicadas and the sweltering humidity of the summer air marked the beginning of summer and the end of… everything. Satoru could feel the material of his pants begin to stick to his legs the longer he sat on the rotting wooden bench. The train tracks before him were rusted and old; they had weathered the storm of time and had the marks to prove it. These tracks were the end. The led you to the beginning. All Satoru had to do was wait.

—

“Maybe it was because I knew she would always come back to me. Maybe I was testing her love for me. Maybe I wanted to push her away before she pushed me away.”

“That’s a lot of maybes.”

“There’s a lot of regret.”

Satoru could still feel the weight of that nostalgic love and regret in his stomach. It has buried itself so deep within him, he’s hardly sure anything would make it go away. The woman next to him looks different now; youthful, free. Satoru wants that. But does he deserve it?

I AM HIM, AS HE IS ME [MASTERLIST]

— CHAPTER ONE: “He Doesn’t Know I Learned it From Him.”

Gojo Satoru, in all aspects, is a God reborn. He holds the world and its universes in the palm of his flaming hand; unknowingly burning everything he holds dear.

— CHAPTER TWO: “I Was a Girl Gulping a Woman’s Grief.”

With an emotionally distant mother and a father plagued with a god complex, there weren’t many people you could look up to. maybe, you have to look down.

— CHAPTER THREE: “Do You Believe Me When I Tell You I’m Trying to be Better?”

With tensions at an all-time high, it’s hard to ignore what has gone neglected for so long. Dams are broken and feelings are hurt, but if there’s one thing everyone knows, it’s that Gojo Satoru loves his daughter more than anything. But does she know that?

— CHAPTER FOUR: “The Unbearable Lightness of Being.”

There is nothing more heroic than the sacrifices made by a mother. But what is born of those sacrifices made? Virtue? Honour? Strength? You knew the answer to that question all too well: Guilt.

— CHAPTER FIVE: “Desperation Sits Heavy on my Tongue.”

You and your father are more alike than either of you are led to believe. He doesn’t reach. You don’t beg. Where does the tension snap?

— CHAPTER SIX: “Through Heaven and Earth, I Alone am the Honoured One.”

Hymns were sung at his birth and prophecies were written for his future, in all aspects, Gojo Satoru was a god reborn. But who is a God to a little girl searching for her father?

[bloop-bl00p]

My issue with the Hellaverse rulers

We all know the story of Lucifer causing a war in Heaven due to his hatred of mankind, losing and taking a quarter of the angels with him. Those Fallen Angels became the rulers of Hell, essentially torturing the sinners and going to Earth to tempt us or just chill out and give us math lessons (I’m not joking, some do when summoned.) Not in Viv’s Hell though, they were no war so where do the other demons come from? How did these demons manage to harvest such great powers, powers that can give them access to Earth and outrank the lower class? You can theorize that the Seven Deadly Sins were born from the sin of humans or some shit but that’s headcannon territory and this does not explain what created the Goetia. Are we supposed to believe that the second Lucifer and Lilith fell everyone was there to greet them with flowers and a little flag saying “Congratulations! You fucked up but you get a new kingdom!”

Talking about the Goetia…

How exactly do they work here? The Arc Goetia is listed in a book known as the Lesser Keys of Solomon. Their section contains detailed information about 72 demons and how to summon them, these demons were Fallen Angels. A random King named Solomon who appeared to be a master of witchcraft received a ring from an angel that gave him authority over demons and he used them to build temples.

And then you have the Helluva Boss version, with a Stolas born in Hell, who is at least 35. Why do they even exist in this world? The whole thing with the Goetia is that they were demons at the service of King Solomon around 970 to 931 BCE.

You also have those characters who are classified as such but those do not appear in the book like Stella who’s Andrealphus’s sister and who are their parents you ask? Figure it out. But fair enough maybe they do something that is specific to them like I don’t know:

[Context: Stolas wanted Blizø to kill said a candidate who was causing trouble for his associate.]

Ah! So the Goetia mission is essentially to make life worse on Earth using lower species like imps to do their binding. I would have hoped but… it’s a screenshot from the pilots which isn’t canon anymore. And til now, we have no indication that this is what the Goetia does in the cannon.

Stolas is immortal why does he need to have a child? Maybe it’s for other Goetia duties that will never be addressed in the shows but he’s the only character who is visibly shown to be forced into a marriage. Paimon clearly doesn't care if you are gay, asexual, or whatever if he wants you to make a baby you will make a baby. So naturally Andrealphus will have a wife, right? He’s only a duke and his sister got married to a Prince seemingly to alleviate their family so shouldn’t he marry a Princess or something like that, his parents would certainly pressure him to do so. And since Stolas needs an heir despite being immortal, wouldn’t he need one too?

[Context: God the inconsistency's gonna kill me. This is Stella’s party in ep1 of season 2 and you can see two men dancing together.]

Stolas could have been openly gay since the beginning, so what prevented him from divorcing Stella the second Octavia was born? The girl would have been too young to remember her mother and if she asked questions he could have just explained to her that Stella wasn’t a good person.

“But he played along so she could have a normal childhood.”

That would have been a great excuse if Stella did the same thing.

This woman literally threw their butler at her husband the second she learned he cheated on her with an imps not caring that her daughter was there! Stella is quick to anger and will most likely choose physical violence when she’s upset. How did Stolas though that THIS was a normal childhood for Via?!! And it’s not like he was trapped in the marriage they divorced quite easily… wait a minute…

Does Viv even understand the concept of arranged marriages?! Usually, both families benefit from the union (financially, religiously, and other), but few result in divorce due to the massive social pressure caused by the two families and the constant control and influence the parents have on their children. Realistically speaking, Paimon would have threatened Stolas for trying to leave Stella because there’s no way he married his immortal son just to get a new kid in the family.

Yet, it still happened without any complication and Stella left his castle. So where’s Octavia?! She’s his heir! He’s supposed to learn her fairy dust and star magic or some shit, he should automatically get full custody of the child! We don't even know what the girl's relationship with her mother is but considering Stella is framed as a psychopath, I wouldn't want my kid to stay with her EVEN for vacation, Octavia is 17 she saw her mother throwing a tantrum once I think she’ll understand why her father doesn't want her near Stella.

[grntaire]

good omens is an allegory for queer deconstruction from an abusive fundamentalist religious environment.

i've talked about it on here ad nauseum, probably, but i haven't fleshed my thoughts out on it fully. this has been my interpretation since season 1, and season 2 just solidified it for me. so here goes.

it's about the choice that all queer people in an environment like this have to make, and both choices suck and end with loss.

choice 1: stay with your church community, your friends, your family, the world you've always known, but never be true to yourself. because they will never fully accept you if you are true to yourself.

choice 2: embrace your queerness, live your authentic life, and leave it all behind. you're torn from everything you've ever known, everyone you've ever loved. but it's what you have to do to be happy. aziraphale is stuck between choices. crowley never had a choice. his was made for him.

heaven are the church elders. the protectors. the ones who say they have your and god's best interest in mind, always. they don't. to them, hell are the blasphemers, who are both unworthy of redemption yet can only be saved by it. they are the arbiters of what is good and right and bad and wrong.

aziraphale's story is one of both learned faith and earned faith. learned, in that he's been indoctrinated his whole life. been to church at least twice a week since birth. earned, in that he's seen the good that the church can do–they feed the hungry, shelter the unhoused. how could people who do such good be capable of cruelty? and surely, when they are cruel, there must be some greater good to come out of it?

crowley was faithful once, too. he loved god. loved church. but he knew he was queer from a young age, and asked questions about it. not because he wanted to make trouble, but because he wanted to understand. to understand why something he knew about himself to be so innately true could be wrong. but the church didn't see it as that–they saw the embodiment of sin, questioning them. their authority, their virtuosity, the fibre of what holds their organization together, and he was cast out. was kicked out of his home, alienated from his family, his friends, his community. he fell. and he now sees the church for what it truly is.

as for aziraphale, he's accepted the fact that he's queer, but had faith that his elders had his best interest at heart when they spewed homophobic ideology. he never believed the ideology, not really, but he had to believe (made himself believe) that the people who spread it meant well. that they meant it out of kindness, out of protecting queer people from damnation. he wanted to believe that not everyone in the church was like this, that not everyone in the church thought all queer people are inherently people of sin. that is, until a mentor, someone he trusts, perpetuates it too. he's had moments in his past that chipped away at his faith: he'd stayed friends, or whatever you want to call it, with crowley, and crowley had tempted him into trying new things that the church wouldn't approve of. things that aziraphale loved. but this moment with his mentor is when his faith is truly shaken. it's the beginning of his active deconstruction.

and so he leaves. he leaves and finds crowley and they build a semblance of a life together with what they have. they're happy. he's learning that he doesn't need to go to church to be holy. that he doesn't need to be holy to be happy. that he's allowed to indulge in the things he loves without guilt and shame.

that is, until that mentor shows up at his doorstep, offering him everything he's ever wanted. insinuates that he knows him and crowley aren't just friends, and assures him that they can come back to church together. that they're going to change things in the church, and that aziraphale can help. that they need aziraphale to help. (they don't. they want a pious gayboy to help repair their image. it's performative activism at its finest). aziraphale is being offered his family, his community, everything back, and crowley can come too. preying on his wants and desires, manipulating him back into their control. so of course he says yes. they'll get to be together with everything they've ever known and aziraphale doesn't have to make a choice between losses anymore. (deconstruction isn't linear, and abuse is cyclical.)

but crowley makes it for him. crowley tells him no. he doesn't want that life and doesn't want to go back to those people who hate him so much. who hate them so much. crowley knows what the church is about and sees it for what it is. they're not about god, or moral good or doing what's right. all they want is control. it's about the optics of the organization. it's about influencing what serves them and their agenda, and crowley knows that aziraphale is just a pawn to them. ("Why would we go back to them, when they think that who we are is wrong? Is vile? They think us the embodiment of sin and you want to go help them with their PR campaign?")

but aziraphale doesn't know that, can't know it, and crowley can't make him see it. (aziraphale knows that they cast crowley out, that he was kicked out of his home. crowley never shared with him about what happened after. the nights on the street, the things he'd endured to survive.)

and so crowley kisses him. he kisses him to tell him not that he loves him, because of course he does. he kisses him to tell him "This is what you leave behind. We would never be able to do this there, to be this there, even if they say we could. Our lives are here, our safety is here. this is what you're giving up."

crowley has been through it and experienced their cruelty firsthand. aziraphale won't be able to see it until he experiences it, too. he won't be able to realize he's being played if he doesn't even know that there's a game happening in the first place.

i can't recommend watching the show through this lens enough. it makes aziraphale's story that much more heartbreaking, because there's this intense duality of indoctrination vs. deconstruction that lives within him constantly. (imo it's also the main difference between book aziraphale and tv aziraphale: book aziraphale is significantly further along in his deconstruction journey. it's why he's a bit more of a bastard. tv aziraphale is set back a bit further, which sets up his deconstruction arc beautifully across three seasons.)

it's why aziraphale has the ability to peel back layers of himself and his train of thought depending on the situation at hand–he literally has two trains of thought happening at once. the indoctrinated one, and the deconstructed one.

and when crowley kisses him, it's the first time in his existence that both trains of thought have been that present simultaneously. it's both trains colliding full speed with each other. it's why we see both livid, hesitant frustration and fierce passion and longing at once. it forced him to confront something that lived so deeply within himself that he wanted to bring to light on his own terms, but crowley was desperate. the kiss wasn't i love you, please stay. it was look at what you're leaving behind. we could've been us, we could've been this.

and i think that whatever happens in season 3, whatever heaven does that makes them finally irredeemable in aziraphale's eyes, it'll be a beautiful ending to his deconstruction arc. not that deconstruction ever ends, not truly, but for the first time in his existence, he'll be able to see heaven, hell, and the system as a whole clearly for what they are: a bunch of self-righteous dicks.

[if you're curious about religious deconstruction and what it means, this video by therapist and social worker mickey atkins talking about deconstruction in reference to shiny happy people, a documentary about the duggar family, is a good place to start. cw for pretty much all types of abuse imaginable, fyi.]

[bonthefuckjourx]

Lucifer x Sinner!reader (Hazbin Hotel)

   SUMMARY: You wake up in Hell and realize you didn't make the cut into Heaven. You never did anything evil, but never believed in God. You wanted to live life by your own morals. Little did you know a group of hazbins would take you in and show you more kindness than anyone on Earth ever did. Then you met someone you never thought you would, Lucifer, the King of Hell. Then you did something you never thought you would, make a deal with the devil.

WARNINGS: brief mention of depression/anxiety

WORD COUNT: 3100k+

A/N: Hello everyone! I haven't posted around tumblr all that much, but I hope this gets some traction as there isn't much Lucifer fanfiction to begin with. I love writing fantasy stories intermeshed with romance and Hazbin Hotel was a perfect world for this.

And yes, eventually there will be smut. I suppose you'll have to stick around and find out~

(Also, I hope you all know the Reputation album by Taylor Swift is fueling this ^-^)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One: ...Ready For It?

One day you were in school studying for the next exam and then you were spawned into a hellscape like no other. The literal hell. You never were religious, and it always seemed more like a fear-mongering cult to you. Apparently even though you didn’t do anything evil or inherently bad you still went to hell. Gunshots fired off into the distance making you drop to the ground. They were loud and scared you to no end. Shakily you stood up, started to run. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you didn’t want to die, not again. Eventually you ran out of strength and wandered inside a hotel-like building before collapsing on the ground.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t just stand there Vaggie, come help me! It’s okay we have you now.”

With closed eyes you made out an alarmed high-pitched voice. It sounded like warmth and trust. You didn’t have the strength to open your eyes. Arms lifted you up and after some time you landed in a warm bed. You drifted off into a fitful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As your eyes fluttered open you were met with one beady red eye.

“Nifty would ya give her some space?”

This so-called nifty jumped off your bed and landed on the floor next to you.  

“Hi, I’m Charlie. You collapsed on the floor of my hotel and so we took you up to a room. And yes, you can stay as long as you would like.”

            A hand was extended out for you to take and with a shaky arm you took it. The demon was pale with two red dots on her face that looked a bit like blush. She wore a suit like attire and seemed to be the one in charge. As you looked around you noticed a snake-like demon who said his name was Sir Pentious, a cat-like demon whose named Husk, and a spider-like demon whose named Angel Dust. The last demon sent chills down your spine with his unnerving smile, his name was the Radio Demon or Alastor. You hoped you never had to be in a room alone with him.

            “Uh thank you all for helping me. It’s my first day in hell and it’s a lot. I didn’t know where to go so I just kept running and running and it was so loud and violent and-“You started to look around frantically hyperventilating a little. This was all too much.

            “Hey it’s okay. This is supposed to be a safe place. You don’t have to go out there anymore if you don’t want to.” You looked at Charlie reassurance in her eyes.

            “It’s called the Hazbin Hotel! We rehabilitate sinners so that they hopefully one day can go to Heaven. As you know my name is Charlie. I’m also the Princess of Hell and I really want to be able to save my people from this life.”

 She looked solemn, but determined and in that moment, you had no doubt of what she would accomplish. You sat up and pulled Charlie in for a hug. Even though she was born in hell, she was much kinder than any soul you met on earth.

“Thank you, Charlie.”

You pulled away from the hug and noticed a tearful look in her eyes even though she was smiling.

“I’ll be honest I’m not quite sure why I’m here. It’s not like I did anything super evil, I just kind of lived an average life.”

“You didn’t kill anyone?” The radio demon mentioned from the corner.

“What! No? What is wrong with you?”

“What about prostitution? Apparently, the big guy hates it when you whore yourself out like that,” Angel Dust mentioned with a shrug.

“I was a poor college student, but I didn’t turn to that. I just had to take out an insane amount of loans.”

“Gambling, or suicide? I lost everything and well there wasn’t much place left in the mortal realm for me. The easy way out is an easy way into hell,” said Husk who stood next to Angel Dust.

“Nope neither. I don’t really think I had a reason other than not believing in God. I mean I can see now that demons are real, but why would I believe in a God that doesn’t care? His rules are horrible, you can’t be gay, or just enjoy yourself with another person. I lived my life by my morals, not someone else’s.”

You crossed your arms hoping the others would get the hint. You just wanted to be alone right now. Your life was cut short, and for what?

“I’m sorry y/n, but we can figure something out. Just give me some time, I promise.”

Charlie held out her pinkie and reluctantly you agreed.

“We’ll give you some time alone then.”

With that Charlie turned to leave and the rest followed her. After the door shut you curled up under the covers and wondered if life would ever be better. This whole heaven and hell thing made your head hurt. You never had much luck in life why would this be any different?

            A few weeks passed and although your death was still fresh in your mind you started to feel a little bit better. You and Charlie talked and set out on a plan to help rehabilitate you. She said you really didn’t need much help, but rather she had the hard task of trying to convince Heaven you should be up there with them. You both talked every day, and it helped take some of the edge off your anxiety. That and you always seemed to have company when you wanted it at the hotel. Angel Dust made you laugh and was always up for a drinking game of some sorts. Husk was always there if you needed to talk or rant about your previously human life. Sir Pentious was a bit peculiar, but over time you warmed up to him too. You didn’t talk to Vaggie much as she always seemed a bit distant. Everything she did was for Charlie, and she didn’t exactly make friends with other people and tended to only light up if Charlie was in the room. Thankfully you both silently agreed not to talk much. In the evenings you all would curl up around the fireplace and share stories or play games. Charlie loved to play human games like Never Have I Ever or Twenty Questions. She claimed they helped build trust.

            One morning while you and Charlie were having your daily talk, she mentioned that her dad would be over later that day. She was going to show him the hotel so that hopefully he could set her up an audience with Heaven. She could finally mention the souls, like you, here that could be rehabilitated. You were ecstatic that she could finally move forward with her plan but scared to meet someone new. Not only that, but this was Charlie’s dad Lucifer. The Lucifer, like the biblical fallen angel that probably has some awesome, but frightening powers. The anxiety was eating you up and you could tell Charlie wasn’t much better. She mentioned she hadn’t seen him in a few years, and you wondered how hard that must be on her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Everyone gather around! He should be here any minute,” Charlie yelled out to us, clapping to have our attention. I stood next to Angel Dust as we gathered around her near the front entrance. He always made me feel a little safer.

            “Charlie, so good to see you!”

 The door swung open and in came the most eccentric man I ever saw. He was almost bouncing around the room, hugging Charlie, then seeing Razzle and Dazzle, and finally stopped when he noticed the rest of us. You couldn’t move your gaze as you realized he was staring straight into your eyes. The moment was fleeting as Charlie grabbed his attention.

“Dad, hi. This is my hotel, and these are the inhabitants. Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, and y/n.”

When Charlie mentioned your name Lucifer met your gaze again. It was electrifying and made you blush to no end. He looked away giving Charlie his full attention once again. Suddenly Alastor appeared right next to her.

            “And I am the hotelier. Pleased to meet you, the name’s Alastor.”

            Lucifer’s eyes widened as Alastor put his arm around Charlie, his smile growing ever bigger. You swore a small growl came out of Lucifer’s mouth.

            “Hot,” Angel Dust whispered near your ear, and you did your best not to give out a small laugh.

            “Charlie, you need to stay away from this demon.”

            “Dad, I trust him. He’s been nothing but helpful. Once you see the hotel, I know you’ll have a change of heart.”

            Soon Charlie was leading her father around the hotel with Alastor on her right-hand side. Lucifer was less than happy to see his daughter hanging out around the Radio Demon. He didn’t trust Alastor, which you understood in a way. He was happy to meet Vaggie stating how he also like girls. He was quite awkward, but adorable in a way.

Next thing you know Alastor and Lucifer were arguing again. Music playing randomly and seemingly out of nowhere.

            “Yea don’t ask me why, but sometimes they break out into song.” Angel Dust leaned in towards you to comment shrugging his shoulders.

            A small laugh escaped as you took your time eyeing Lucifer up. Soon enough he was singing, his voice mesmerizing. His inflections and body language all showed off how prideful and confident he was. You supposed that’s why he’s called the sin of pride. There was something so sweet about how much he wanted to help his daughter, and attractive too. You never were able to have a family on Earth, but you wouldn’t mind having his babies.         

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the little sing off between Alastor and Lucifer, Charlie talked to her dad about the audience with Heaven. He decided to help her, and you could tell their relationship healed a little. You decided to leave them to it and left to go up toward your room. The elevator dinged at your level, and you walked out. The balcony at the end of the hall caught your attention as its glass doors were open. A breeze blew in and you relished the fresh air. As you reached toward the doorway you hesitated, bringing your hand back. Your heartrate picked up, pounding in your ears. You were going to turn around and run into your room, your safe place. Then you heard someone approach from behind you, making you quickly turn away from the glass doors.

            “Beautiful day out, isn’t it?” Lucifer mentioned as he moved towards you.

            “I suppose if you could call hell beautiful.”

            “Some might, though I suppose we aren’t apart of that group.  What are you doing over here?” He motioned toward the opened doors near me.

            “I was going to see what the view was like, but I backed out.” You looked away from him, not being able to look him in his eyes. He stopped walking when he was right in from of you and grabbed your chin guiding you to look at him. In his eyes you could see concern and empathy.

            “I know all too well what it’s like to be limited by your own mind. Not that we have a physiatrist in hell, but depression has had me for a long time.” He gave a small sympathetic smile. A small blush crossed your face being so close to him. Your heart melted a little at the kindness he showed you.

            “Yea well, I just get anxious about going outside. I thought maybe I could try, but it was a stupid idea. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.” He let go of your face and walked around you towards the balcony.

            “I know it’s not my place, but I could help you. Not to be boastful, but you are in the presence of the most powerful demon in hell. You would be safe with me.”

With that he held out his hand, willing you to take it. In that light he looked angelic even waiting for your hand, a genuine smile across his face as the outside wind gently rustled his hair. For once in your life, you wish you could just take that leap. If only…

…and then you did.

He pulled you in close against his chest. You could feel his heartbeat as he told you to wrap your arms around his neck. As soon as you did, he leapt off the side of the balcony over the railing. You closed your eyes and screamed as you both fell into a freefall. He wrapped his wings around you until they flapped open, allowing him to gain air. You kept your eyes closed the entire time, clinging to his neck and burying your face there. He chuckled to himself committing to memory this moment, feeling whole again. After about 10 minutes you both landed on solid ground. You didn’t dare let go, but he understood what you needed. Lucifer cradled you in his arms as he walked indoors.

“Here you go, you can open your eyes now.”

As you looked around you realized you were in an observatory-like room. It had high windows on all sides that looked out at Sin City. You didn’t realize until now how hard you were gripping him and embarrassingly tore yourself away from him.

“Sorry… Where are we?”

“Don’t be sorry for being yourself. It was cute.” You blushed and looked down at the floor, but quickly returned your eyes to him.

“It’s my study of sorts. I like to come up here to think or waste the day away. I used to invent so many beautiful things, but I’ve been uninspired for quite some time.”

You walked around taking in the view then turned back to look at him.

“Maybe you just need someone to inspire you.”

“Why are you willing?” He looked at you with a smirk on his face, almost implying something more.

“Sure, why not. Maybe you could help me get over my fears in return. I mean look at what you have already done for me today. I hadn’t left that hotel since I arrived.”

“Sounds like a plan, do we have a deal?” He walked toward you, willing you to take his hand again.

“What and make a deal with the devil?”

He pulled his hand away and for a second you swore you noticed hurt flash across his face. Quickly he hid it, behind a devilish smile and you decided then you’d never make him feel that way ever again.

“It doesn’t have to be, more so a saying then anything.”

            You stepped forward taking his hand in yours. He lifted his head up to look into your eyes, his face slightly flushed.

            “No, I want it to be, Lucifer. Let’s make a deal, to be there for each other until we can beat this. “

            He nodded his head, smiling with loving eyes, tears forming in them. With that he placed his other hand over yours and spoke. His eyes turned red, horns sprouted, and he looked possessed. Just as fast as it started, it ended. In the end you were left with a pentagram tattoo on your right hand. It was beautiful, but soon it faded leaving just an indent of it behind.

            “I enchanted it so that others cannot see it, however you can feel it. It will be binding until we fulfill the deal. I don’t own your soul or anything, but it acts like a bond between us. It will also let you teleport, put your hand over it and think of where you want to go. It’ll let me know where you’re going, but don’t worry I won’t pry.” Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as for once you felt like you could finally take a breath. You felt much safer knowing Lucifer was a thought away.

After that you two kept each other company and every now and then he would show you something he made. His magic was gorgeous and made your heart soar, you’ve never seen anything like it. As the night dragged on you mentioned you should probably head back so that the other’s wouldn’t worry.

            “Remember just touch the pentagram with your hand and think of where you want to go.”

            As you did you thought of your warm bed and the pentagram flashed to life. Then you felt something. The bond between you two tightened and you felt him. His magic pulsed through him as if it was alive and in front of you a portal appeared. The bond closed then for you. It only stays opens when he uses his magic, but as you stared into Lucifer’s eyes you felt emotions overpower you. Thoughts of safe and warm and love flowed through your head. Lucifer looked confused and scared for a second before becoming his confident self again. You said your goodnights as you fled through the portal to your bed.

Lucifer’s POV

            He watched as y/n touched her hand waiting for his magic. He hadn’t made many deals in his life, but he knew enough to know what to expect. There would be a bond in place caused from his magic and that would be used to make portals.

            His eyes wandered y/n’s body taking a second to indulge. Quickly he reverted to her eyes as she looked back at him. He wondered when their short friendship turned into more, or if it simply always was. She made him feel safe and warm and loved. At that moment a small tendril of magic snapped into place. He stepped back afraid of the woman in front of him, before realizing how much he was showing with his face. After recomposing himself he bid her goodnight and she left with a sleepy smile on her face.

            As the portal closed, he fell to his knees, wondering why fate would be so cruel. After thousands of years, trying to find something to inspire him and be his light. After all the fights with Lilith and trying to raise Charlie simply because he thought Lilith was it. With the palm of his hand, he wiped the tears away as he sobbed looking though the skylight at the darkness above. She wasn’t an archangel or a seraphim, or even an angel at all. All this torture and pain was for her.

            His mate…

            No, his salvation.

[fellthemarvelous]

Invisible scars

(TW: religious trauma)

Looking at me, you wouldn't know that I've survived religious trauma. The marks of religious trauma are seldom visible. In fact, I had no idea for the longest time that I had religious trauma (I thought it was a thing that happened to other people). I simply spent decades questioning the reasons I felt like I was so broken on in the inside. I kept trying to figure out what I was doing wrong and why I never felt happy or like I was never able to connect to anyone. I had no idea that my experience with the church as a small child is what shaped me into the anxiety-ridden, majorly depressed disaster creature I am today.

I spent 12 years learning inside of Catholic schools. It has taken me more than 20 years to process and deconstruct, and I am always going to be a work in progress. I was brainwashed into believing the very worst about myself, and I was always just beyond saving because I had the misfortune of being a woman in a church that taught us that women experience pain during childbirth as a natural consequence of Eve eating the apple, which is why they enjoy making us suffer in the first place. They taught us that Adam ate the apple because Eve seduced him, so even though Adam also ate the apple, his sin still wasn't as bad as Eve's because she did it first and used sex to get him to do the same. They placed the blame for Original Sin squarely on Eve and thus onto every single girl who entered the church. If a boy did something to me that I didn't like, it's probably because I did something to provoke him first.

Do you know what I learned to do at a very young age just to be able to cope with that?

I learned to use humor to deflect when I was struggling. I smile when I don't want people to know I'm sad. I laugh at inappropriate times, especially when I'm uncomfortable. I learned to bottle up all of my emotions because expressing anything other than happiness is bad. I learned to compartmentalize. I taught myself how to pull out the right emotion for the right occasion because I was always striving to be who I thought everyone else wanted me to be. It was exhausting.

In the midst of all of this, I'm trying to figure out which parts of me are really me and which parts of me are things that were put into my head. If you've experienced indoctrination, you know what I'm talking about. They pulled us apart as small children and placed us in specific boxes and told us that deviating from the norm was bad.

Crowley is a fallen angel. His change from angel to demon is drastic on the outside.

You know he fell and that his wings turned black and he ended up in a pool of boiling sulfur. It's the reason Crowley is so easy to sympathize with. He suffered unfairly because of arbitrary rules that deemed him unforgivable. He's accepted that part of himself. He's clever and creative and it has helped him find ways to get out of doing his job for centuries. Hell doesn't care how jobs get done just as long as someone does them, and at this point humanity is doing more to damn themselves than the demons are able to keep up with. They're tired and overworked. Hell is overpopulated even though it should be infinite in size. Crowley wants no part of that system because he sees it for what it is, just as he sees Heaven for what it is. He has the marks to prove that he is one of the damned, but that has given him all the perspective he needs to see that both sides are fucked up and toxic and "irredeemable" (just like him). He has yet to fully let go of the hold Heaven has over him because of how badly he got hurt.

Aziraphale is still an angel.

He never fell, and he doesn't know why. He has lied to God. He has lied to Gabriel repeatedly. He lies to protect Crowley. He lies to protect humanity.

Remember, Crowley and Aziraphale started off in the same place.

They both started off as angels who were created to do God's bidding. Aziraphale is the one who told Crowley what he'd heard about everything shutting down in 6,000 years. He was simply trying to make conversation. He didn't think it was something Crowley would object to. Angels were just supposed to go along with God's plans, but Crowley had a different opinion and was vocal about it. Where did Aziraphale get his information in the first place? Why does nobody ever ask this question?

Aziraphale knows Heaven is toxic. He's not blind. We need to move past this idea that because he still has love for God that he doesn't know Heaven is fucked up. He never fell, and it's something he still fears because who the hell doesn't fear the thought of eternal torment, especially if you know it's real? God has never cast him out of Heaven though and he doesn't know why. It's probably something that hangs over his head like the Sword of Damocles.

Letting go is not an easy task. Aziraphale has always been an angel. He didn't have his identity ripped from him the same way that Crowley did. Crowley had to adapt to a brand new way of existing because he was cast out of Heaven.

Crowley's trauma is evident on the outside. Aziraphale's trauma is hidden on the inside. Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it isn't there.

Crowley was an angel and then he was a demon, but he doesn't want to be labeled as either.

Aziraphale has only ever known how to be an angel. He's only ever known the ways of Heaven.

I'm only in my early 40s. It has taken me 20+ years to undo 12 years of religious abuse. Aziraphale is immortal. He and Crowley have abandoned their jobs, but four years in the space of millions isn't a lot. No one overcomes indoctrination in four years. Especially when you had millions of years of blind obedience indoctrinated into you. It simply does not work that way no matter how much you want to believe it can.

It has taken me more than two decades to learn how to stop hating myself. I still have no idea how to love myself, but it's something I'm trying to learn.

My entire identity was wrapped up in what the church told me it would be. Once I fully denounced it and all organized religion, I found out I had no idea who I was. No one had prepared me for a life outside of this one very specific identity and role that I was expected to fill based on a very specific box I was placed into.

I still struggle with black and white concepts. It's hard to unlearn when you have no other basis for comparison, but that doesn't mean it's impossible. It means that these changes do not and will not ever happen overnight.

The fall didn't just affect the demons though. It affected the angels as well. Look at how tightly wound the angels are. They're always trying to do the good thing, but they have no idea what that actually means, and you realize this when Uriel asks The Metatron if they had done something wrong. They are scared of making mistakes, but none of them know what they are supposed to be doing since Gabriel disrupted the status quo. You can see they are unsure of themselves and of each other. The concept of free will is so foreign to them, but Aziraphale showed all of them that it was in their grasp when he allowed Gabriel and Beelzebub to decide where to go so they could be together.

It takes a lot of audacity (and sheer ignorance) to dismiss Aziraphale as power-hungry and abusive.

Aziraphale did nothing to punish Gabriel and Beelzebub. He allowed them to leave because they were in love with each other, and he knows what that feels like. He thought he was about to get the same fate with Crowley until The Metatron showed up and refused to take no for an answer.

He doesn't want to fix Heaven because he thinks it's perfect. If he thought it was perfect he wouldn't want to fix it.

Aziraphale is going back into the Lion's Den. He knows what he's going up against. He's been humiliated and belittled and abused by Heaven for thousands of years.

His scars are there even though you can't see them, and he hides his pain with humor and silliness.

When I see people advocating for Aziraphale to suffer even more because they don't think he has suffered enough, I find myself sitting back in one of those classrooms in Catholic school being told that I deserve the bad things that happen to me because I somehow failed to measure up to some impossible metric. The cruelty of that mindset aimed at Aziraphale is kinda the reason Crowley hates Heaven in the first place because he's been there too.

And as someone who is processing religious trauma, it's disheartening to see people say that because Aziraphale has yet to fully let go of Heaven that he deserves harsher treatment. Crowley would definitely not agree with that sentiment.

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

TW: sensitive topics

Adam slowly becomes more tolerate and less misogynistic over time via osmosis but won't admit it and instead hides it.

Adam thinks women bitch too much about the pink tax until he's sent out to get period products for Reader and Lute, only to realise that his cost of his shopping just doubled in price from just one pack.

Adam thinks women bitch too much about not being welcomed to normally male occupied spaces until he's playing late night online and hears a woman join only to leave after five minutes because everyone kept harassing them.

Adam hounds a girl for her number, thinking that he's so smooth for getting it in the end, but then decided to lose it after watching a film with Reader and Lute where it showed a girl terrified of what would happen if she didn't give a guy her number and hears Reader and Lute, two very capable women, talk about how they've been in similar positions.

Adam has done a lot of thinking lately.

Personally, I'd like to think that Heaven, while flawed, is above some of the nonsense like the pink tax. I do still think catcalling and being harassed happens, probably mainly in result to a lot of men modeling Adam's behavior.

But once he gets with you and you start calling him on his shit, and therefore Lute gets more comfortable calling him out, and especially after the period simulator, he's more aware of certain things.

I feel like eventually he'd ask you if this is how bad it is now, what did you do when you were alive? When you had to work constantly, sometimes 2 jobs at a time, just to afford basics. That's when you tell him you didn't really have a choice but to suck it up. That you weren't allowed to get a hysterectomy, you couldn't take sick days just for a period, and that most doctors wouldn't believe you anyway.

Especially if you're a trans person this is a big foot in the door to explaining how poorly women and queer people are treated. Hit em with the fact that religious nuts use Adam and God as examples for their behavior and he's going to feel physically sick. I think he'd have to take a few days to just be by himself and really think about how he acts and how people interpret that.

From there it's a slow build up to correcting his behavior. And it's not always gonna be easy. He's going to be defensive, he'll tell you that you're overreacting and that him persistently following a girl around to ask her for her number repeatedly isn't bad, it shows he's interested. He's a nice guy.

Tell him that's what other men thought too until "insert any woman you can think of who was assualted".

Lute's more direct, she sits his ass down and has him watch as many true crime stories of women getting kidnapped, SA, tortured, and murdered as she can find. Usually she picks ones based off the names you drop. He really only has to hear 4 or 5 before it sinks in. (Tiktok reminded me of the girl who was tortured to death for 45 days and assualted with lit fireworks so, have that fresh horror in your minds).

Tell him about any personal experiences you had and how terrifying it is to be a woman or queer. Show him the responses to the man or the bear question. Let him fully realize how many people, people he knows as strong and capable, would rather face the bear because "the worst the bear can do is kill me". Or "Nobody accuses me of liking being attacked by a bear"

"No one asked me what I was wearing when the bear attacked"

"People would actually believe me if I said I was attacked by a bear."

"The bear sees me as a person."

"The bear lives in the woods, the man probably followed me."

Each answer is gonna send a new shiver down his spine.

Reforming Adam isn't an easy or fast process but it's fully possible because I don't think he's bad or a fullblown narcissist. I think he's been told his entire existence that he's a good guy, a pinnacle of creation, someone to be admired and obeyed without question.

You could argue he may be a bit controlling and narcissistic because of how he treated Lillith and requested a submissive wife with Eve. And I don't think he's ever not going to be full of himself and expect his ideal partner to be a bit more traditional in the sense that they're a housewife/domestic type. But he also likes people who go out and have fun, can get wild, and he definitely thinks it's hot if you can defend yourself even if it strokes his ego if you let him do it.

But overall, I think with enough time, patience, and exposure Adam could become a better person. Probably the type who would throw hands with himself if he could. Definitely becomes the type to start borderline hating other men.