#i feel like belle is the kind of person to believe in guardian angels

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

The missing star

*ST-2199 HQ*

Arms crossed, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, Kiergan is looking up at the stars, taking in their endless numbers, thinking about how as a child he used to believe that a star was the glowing presence of a person who'd died but stayed to watch over their loved ones. He sighs. A part of him wishes he still believed that.

Hauroko isn't the first Trooper he has lost in his time as a squad leader. Kiergan had felt the pain of every fallen Trooper in his squad and can remember every single one of their faces, young Michael maybe clearest of all, but... Hauroko was his friend. She and Leave-it were the best friends he ever had. No, Kiergan corrects himself, not friends, they were more family to him than the one he grew up with. They made his life make sense. Leave-it made him laugh while Hauroko kept Kiergan strong, and he swore to himself that he would keep them safe.

The singed pauldron he'd recovered on that barren landscape between rivers of lava will forever be an agonizing reminder of his failure; it is hard evidence that Kiergan will never hear Hauroko's voice or see her bright glorious smile ever again. She's gone. She's not even a star on the night sky, merely an invisible scar on his heart from a wound that will never truly heal. Hauroko is gone.

Kiergan dreads the day when Leave-it can't outrun his illness anymore and his laughter will be silenced as Hauroko's smile was erased. It will happen. It is happening, his medicine is having less and less of an effect and will eventually be useless and then he'll be gone too. The thought of both of them gone forever is too horrible to stand.

Maybe Leave-it and Hauroko will wait for Kiergan to join them in some kind of afterlife? And as Jana has everything under control here that means ST -2199 don't need Kiergan, not really, so when the day comes he'll be okay with dying.

Kiergan sighs again. Yeah, he'll be okay with it, but he would give his soul to have Hauroko here at this very moment. She would have known what to say to snap him out of his gloom. Hauroko always knew how to guide Kiergan out of the darkness when he got lost inside his own head.

Turning to go inside the castle, Kiergan nearly walks right into Yurei and comes dangerously close to having a heart attack. “For the love of...” Kiergan snaps, trying recover some dignity after the flailing and the startled yelp that just left his lips. “I swear, I'm putting a bell on you.”

Yurei grins. His eyes are as black as the sky above them and the tiny pinprick of light at the center of them look like dying stars instead of guardian angels. “I told you, you can put anything you'd like on me.”

Kiergan lets out an annoyed breath.“I'm not in the mood for your innuendos tonight, Yurei.”

Yurei sidesteps and blocks his path when Kiergan tries to go around him. His eyes are so very dark and the smile fades a bit as he states in a rather factual way; “You're sad.” He tilts his head a little. “Is it because the blond left?”

“No.” Kiergan glares. Is he still shocked that Leave-it and Zev'sonya had gotten married? Yes. Does the thought make him nervous and he wishes that Leave-it had married someone less... complicated? Unfortunately also yes. But his own feelings on Zev'sonya doesn't matter, what matters to Kiergan is whether his friend is happy and she, for whatever reason, makes Leave-it smile even brighter than before. Kiergan is pleased that Leave-it gets to travel with his new family and enjoy life rather than hide away with him while his limited days ticks away, not sad. “I'm sad because my friend died and I miss her.” He tries to move by Yurei again, but the man reaches out and places a hand on his arm and stops him

“Tell me about her.” Yurei says.

That, Kiergan did not expect. He frowns at him. “Why? You don't care that she's gone.”

“I don't.” Yurei admits readily enough. “But she mattered to you, and I care about you.”

Exhaling no small amount of frustration, Kiergan shifts his hand to shake off Yurei's grip and takes a step away to create some space between them. “Stop. Just stop it. Stop saying that.”

“But it's true.” Yurei insists, now with that eerie smile of his again.

“Why?” Kiergan snaps, out of patience. “Why me? You don't know me. You barely cast one glance my way when we first met before deciding to declare your eternal devotion and start grabbing my ass at any moment. Why me, dammit?”

Yurei's smile widens a tiny fraction and there is a bit of amusement in his bottomless eyes. “I didn't need more than a glance to conclude that you are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen.”

Kiergan scoffs. “If you're not going to tell me the truth, get out of my way.”

“I am telling you the truth.” Yurei claims with soft stubbornness. “I would never lie to you.”

And the really unsettling bit is that Kiergan believes him. Due to whatever crazy reasoning Yurei lives by, he wouldn't lie to him. “Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn't choose to devote yourself to someone simply based on their looks.”

Yurei tilts his head a little, still amused and not discouraged in any way. “Men devote their lives and die for lesser causes every day.”

That... Kiergan can't exactly argue against that. Hadn't he joined the Imperial army for an equally foolish reason? He closes his eyes and sighs. His heart aches and he misses his friends. “Just... please. I just can't deal with your weirdness right now. Please.”

Kiergan expects some more innuendos, maybe a lewd suggestion or two, but what he doesn't expect is the feeling of Yurei's hand gently cradling his neck and easing him forward to rest his head on Yurei's shoulder. Kiergan is too surprised by the gesture to object and merely stands there while the cool fingers on his neck warm up from the contact to his skin.

Yurei stands unmoving like a droid, probably copying a move he's seen others do rather than acting on what feels right, but awkward as it is; he is trying, even if it is in a language he doesn't speak.

Kiergan can't fight back a ghost of smile on his lips as the effort does make him feel a little better. As weird as Yurei might be, as unsettling as he definitely is, there is some good in him too. At least, Kiergan likes to think so?

And while the dark sky above them is riddled with stars, Yurei's eyes are even darker and with just a pinprick of light in them.

[shadowserenity28]

I'm moving my stuff from Amino to here since I don't use Amino anymore. I'm gonna start with my OCs and then move on to my stories. Anyways here's my very first OC:

Naomi Suzuki

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕖𝕔𝕥 𝕠𝕗 ℝ𝕒𝕞𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕝𝕖, 𝕒𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕝 𝕚𝕟 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕘𝕦𝕚𝕤𝕖. 𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕕𝕠 𝕒𝕟𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕 𝕤𝕒𝕗𝕖. 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕠𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕒 𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕣𝕖...

━━━━━━━━━~•~━━━━━━━━

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓

┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

“Geez, so much trouble just to get near my ward...”

━━━━━━━━~•~━━━━━━━━━

~General information~

Full name

Naomi Suzuki

Pronunciation

Na-o-mi

Su-zu-ki

Meanings

First name:

Naomi

Japanese for "the honest one" or "true beauty"

Last name:

Suzuki

Japanese for "bell tree"

Nicknames:

Moonlighter (Floyd)

Madame Angel (Rook)

Blank Face (Other Angels)

Sex:

Female

Gender:

Female

Age:

???

Date of birth

June 30

Zodiac sign

Cancer

Sexuality

Straight

Nationality

Celestial

Homeland

The Celestial Realm

Place of residence

Ramshackle Dorm

Job/Occupation

Guardian Angel/Student

♡Relationships♡

Family

Simeon (brother)

Friends

Ace

Deuce

Epel

Jack

Rook

Vil

Malleus

Lilia

Ward

Vil

━━━━━━━━━~•~━━━━━━━━

“I suggest we try something else. Maybe something that doesn't involve fire?”

━━━━━━━━~•~━━━━━━━━━

◇Appearance◇

Skin tone

Black

Eyes

Sapphire Blue

Hair

Wavy, hip-long brown hair: long bangs cover part of her face

Height

1,72 m

Weight

68 kg

Body type

Naomi has a slim body with few extraordinary features and usual proportions.

Birthmarks/Scars

If you look closely, you can see two lighter scars on her back where her wings usually are when she is in her angel form.

Clothes and accessories

Naomi is often seen wearing a white dress with blue accents and golden accessoirs like bracelets and necklaces. She has a golden feather tucked behind her ear.

Special features

In her angel form, she has three golden feathers on each wing, representing the six feathers she was born from. Only touching those feathers causes her terrible pain and plucking them would result in death.

━━━━━━━━━~•~━━━━━━━━

“I was going to go and draw the stars. Do you want to join me?”

━━━━━━━━~•~━━━━━━━━━

.°. Personality .°.

Description

Calm and gentle, Naomi is known to never get upset. She will show her distaste of something, but nobody ever witnessed her crying or yelling. She is very ambitious and does everything in her power to protect her ward. For that, she would even risk her life.

However, living in the human world for that long time has affected her way of viewing things. So much that she questions if she even wants to stay an angel...

Likes and loves

Art

Honesty

Wards that don't cause her trouble

The night sky

Dislikes and hates

Thunder

Sebek

Conflicts

Lies

Wards that mistake her for a servant

Good traits

Ambitious

Kind

Creative

Calm

Bad traits

People pleaser

Low self esteem

Overthinker

Secretive

Habits

Stress drawing

Biting her thumb

Hiding under the nearest table at the sound of thunder

Hopes and ambitions

For a long time, Naomi's only ambition was to not anger their Father in any way, and doing so by protecting her wards at all costs. But recently, the thought of falling from grace doesn't seem all that bad anymore.

Motivations

Naomi feels like she has to be grateful for being alive, that she wasn't supposed to exist. That's why she doesn't mind dying for her ward, because then she didn't die in vain.

Fears

Naomi is terribly scared of thunderstorms or anything that resembles a thunder (*cough* Sebek *cough*). Whenever she hears a thunder, her first instinct is to dive under the nearest table or hide in a closet or basement. When she's like that, it is nearly impossible to calm her down until the thunder stops.

Insecurities

Since she was born by accident and not through their Father's will, Naomi believes that she is worth less than other angels. She believes that if she displeases him, he might kill her.

Biggest dream

Being able to be herself and free from the restrictions of the Celestial Realm.

Unique Magic

Angel's Kiss

Less of a UM and more of an ability guardian angels are bestowed with. When their ward is on the verge of dying, the Angel's Kiss can prolong their lifetime for four more hours by sharing the angel's own life source with the ward, which can be used to save the ward's life. However, the angel will be weakened to unconciousness and must therefore rely on others to save the ward.

Pet Peeves

Dried paint on brushes

Making things more complicated than they need to be

Favorites

Favorite color

Blue

Least favorite color

Yellow

Favorite food

Blueberries

Least favorite food

Blood sausage

Favorite drink

Lemon tea

Least favorite drink

Energy drinks

Favorite creature

Hamsters

Least favorite creature

Mosquitoes

Trivia

- Angels don't have surnames. Naomi just adapted the name of a ward when they became a thing.

- Naomi is a crossover OC from Obey Me. In this canon, Twisted Wonderland is the human world of Obey Me.

- Naomi and Lilia met during a war. After initial hostility they became best friends, but lost touch over time until they met again in NRC.

-> She never met Malleus though until the events of Twst

- Angels attract blot. So with every overblot, she absorbs some of the excess blot and can't get it off herself. Eventually, it might actually kill her if she doesn't get it treated in some way.

- Since Naomi is unable to cry or get angry, she expresses her emotions through art. However, she never shows those drawings to anyone because they can become quite gruesome.

- Her habit to jump under tables at the sound of thunder is a method of self-protection.

- In the Celestial Realm, it only ever thunders when their Father is upset, so Naomi associates thunder with his wrath, but it also reminds her of war.

- Naomi shares the spot of the MC with Serena Shadowens, a self-insert OC. They usually work together, but one may shine in one chapter more than the other.

-> For example, Naomi is not the one having the nightly encounters with Malleus, Serena is.

━━━━━━━━━~•~━━━━━━━━

“My job is to protect you from danger. Not your own stupidity.”

━━━━━━━━~•~━━━━━━━━━

~•~ School Life ~•~

School

Night Raven College

Dormitory

Ramshackle

Year

First

Class

1-A

Student Number

No.9

Best school subject

Arts

Worst school subject

Flying

Club

Pop Music Club

━━━━━━━━━~•~━━━━━━━━

“I love being an angel. But sometimes... I'm kinda curious what it would be like to fall from grace.”

━━━━━━━━~•~━━━━━━━━━

Backstory

Naomi comes from the Celestial Realm, the realm of the angels. All angels are created by their "Father", who the humans may refer to as God. However, Naomi wasn't created by him. She was born from six feathers her brother Simeon lost in a fight and fell into a holy pond.

For a long time, Naomi was unable to show emotions. Whether she was happy or sad or angry, nobody could tell, which gave her the nickname "Blankface". Eventually, she started copying her brother Simeon and his expressions. But still, they never seemed genuine.

She had a best friend in the Celestial Realm, Lillith, who had seven older brothers. Lillith fell in love with a human and when he was about to die, she gave him a forbidden Celestial fruit, which prolonged his life. However, prolonging a human's life was strictly prohibited and punished with death. Lillith's brothers wouldn't stand for that and rebelled against their father. This caused the Great Celestial War.

Naomi didn't fight in the war, however, she got hurt and fell from the sky into Devildom. Her wings were broken terribly, so bad that they would have usually been removed. But since she needed her wings to survive, Lord Diavolo, the prince of the Devildom, arranged everything so her wings could be saved. She was able to recover, but her wings couldn't heal properly, so she was unable to fly.

Ever since then, Naomi has been living in Twisted Wonderland. She traveled all over the world to protect her wards in person rather than watching over them from above. Still, she had no easy job because she always got pulled into conflicts. When her new ward Vil got enrolled into NRC, she thought she could relax a little, but then she was pulled into one overblot after another...

━━━━━━━━━~•~━━━━━━━━

“No, I don't need to help you. But I want to. Isn't that enough?”

[rejaytionships]

days 23 + 27: mysterious + trust

[ romantic (pre-dating) | alternate gabriel x valerie desrosiers ]

Valerie has suspected for a while that something was off about Gabriel, her guardian angel. Today, she was going to confront the idea. [CW for brief death/suicide mention, not about either named character]

[ mainly in 3rd person limited POV (valerie's) ] [ word count : 980 ]

---

Valerie always had her suspicions about Gabriel. From the very first day they met, she wondered why an archangel would allow the alternates to roam, much less be the ones to make her ex-husband "disappear" when she prayed for his demise. She pushed it off — grateful for the freedom — believing that whatever god was out there simply being more morally ambiguous than she had been taught.

Sometimes, in her peripheral, Gabriel would look... different. His smile would look just a little too wide, his eyes unnaturally large, and it would sometimes even look as if the color drained from him. It would only be a split second until she focused her attention on it, and never happened when she looked him on directly. She was willing to excuse it as her general exhaustion and stress, combined with the fact that angels probably weren't corporeal in the exact way humans were.

Surely Gabriel wasn't one of the alternates... right?

Valerie felt ungrateful being this doubtful, but it was hard to deny her gut feeling, especially when she spent more and more time with Gabriel around. Even though he presented himself with a warm grace, it was impossible to deny his sinister aura that slowly crept up over time.

Everything combined made her finally decide she wanted to confront him about it. There was no more denying that something was up, and she was about to confirm for herself. She needed to learn how to stand up for herself, and what better time than one of the most stressful situations to do so in? If she could do this, she could do anything.

It was a Saturday night, and Valerie was sitting on her bed with Lola, the chihuahua Gabriel had gifted to her to help her overcome her fear of them, resting in her lap. She was passing the time by reading a romance novel, hoping that Gabriel would come at any moment. Typically all she had to do was "pray" to him to have him show up, but sometimes that would take a little while, so she'd have to find ways to occupy herself.

As she was finally getting drowsy, she felt a presence beside her on the bed. The presence felt "off", which only made her gut feeling stronger. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to even look at him.

She gulped. "Hello, Gabriel."

Silence; a physically painful amount of it. Even the sound of Lola's heavy breathing seemed to be absent.

Valerie continued, ignoring the shiver down her spine. "Forgive me, but I feel I need to confess something to you."

Again, no response.

Valerie considered looking over at Gabriel, but something in her mind was setting off alarm bells at the idea; she realized this was because she could see part of his robe in her peripheral, and it had a dull greyness to it. This time, it wasn't going back to normal like it usually did when she focused on it.

She let out a deep exhale from her nose. "I know you aren't everything you say you are, you know."

"Do you, now?"

That was the first Gabriel had spoken to Valerie today; his voice was harsh, sinister even. It almost confirmed exactly what Valerie had been feeling. No angel of God would come off intimidating in this sort of way.

"I do," Valerie affirmed. "Despite how you've treated me with such warmth and kindness, I know there's more to you deep down."

She worked up the courage to look at more of Gabriel, peering at his hands which were now a lifeless grey color, his fingers bony and long.

Valerie knew now.

"You're one of them, aren't you? An alternate?"

Without a second thought, she finally looked Gabriel in the face, and her question was answered for her. Nothing about the distortions of his expression were of a holy nature; in fact, if it weren't for context clues, she would never have guessed this was the same Gabriel who had appeared to her that fateful night months ago.

"Smart girl," Gabriel simply replied, his face twisting as he spoke.

Valerie knew that those who saw these alternates — much less spent the past few months with one — would develop MAD and likely end up dead within a week to their own hand. Was she immune, or did Gabriel's disguise simply keep her mind unaware?

Either way, it was still a surprise to herself that she felt absolutely nothing different when looking at Gabriel's true form.

The next words came out of her before she could even think:

"I'm alright with that, you know."

Gabriel's eyes widened, his face slowly going back to normal, although he still looked puzzled. This was the first time Gabriel seemed genuinely confused around her.

Valerie moved her hand toward Gabriel's, taking his between her own. "If you wanted to hurt me, you would have. Whatever reason you chose to spare me of all people is still something I'm not sure about, but no matter, I'm still grateful for you."

She smiled warmly. No matter what he actually was, he was still her personal angel.

She would never confess that fluttery feeling in her heart that she still got around him, though. Alternates don't do that sort of romance thing, right?

Gabriel smiled back at her. "Your devotion is quite admirable, Miss Desrosiers."

Not long after, Gabriel had to leave. He placed a kiss on the back of Valerie's hand before departing, leaving her alone with a newfound increase in her feelings.

...

Poor, poor girl. If only she knew her secret affections weren't as well-hidden as she wanted to believe... If only she knew just how capable of reciprocating those emotions an alternate was.

Now wasn't the time for that, though. He had other plans to attend to. The world wouldn't fall under his grasp by dawdling around, after all.

[deja-vux]

ATEEZ: Giving You Spanish Nicknames

A/N: This is the other take off of THIS reaction that I did a bit back. This is another self indulgence piece full of pure fluff

Hongjoong:

Mi Estrella[Star]~To him you were his blessing since day 1, and no matter what happened, he couldn't fathom how you could be so patient with him and his hectic work life. Either way, he was grateful; you kept him grounded and became his motivation, his light in the dark. Because of this, he only felt it was fair to nickname his muse, his star.

Seonghwa:

Mi Querida[My Dear]~Ah yes, the king of ‘Jagiya’. I believe this one is pretty self explanatory. My boy is whipped for you but is still one to go for the classics, that old school type love. He wants your relationship to feel like something out of a kdrama or novela. You’ll never underestimate this boy's love for you because of the pure gentleman he is.

Yunho:

Mi Nena(can be short for enana[Shortie/baby girl])~Not gonna lie, this one has a lot to do with your guys’ height difference. Although he occasionally will use it for teasing, 99% of the time, he uses it as a form of endearment. Whether you’re an inch or a foot shorter than him, he will love using this because to him he’s your big, tall superhero even if you might not always need one.

Yeosang:

Mi Cielito[My Sky/Heaven]~Another boy who is a fan of the classics when it comes to nicknames. Yeosang would want that but also something different. He also wants something that’ll captivate your pure heart. To him, every moment with you feels like heaven, and he swears he hears bells ringing in the distance even more so when you call his name just to pull him into a tight embrace.

San:

Mi Gatita[Kitty/Kitten]~I feel like he’d choose this one because he’s one to be with someone who has the same personality or at least aspects of it in order to match his level and energy day to day. He loves it because it’s the best way to describe you: playful, needy, and sassy all rolled into one. He loves seeing you get flustered every time you hear it.

Mingi:

Mi Angelita[Angel]~You help keep him grounded and push through some of his toughest moments in life and because of that he’s given you a piece of him. From the day you met he knew you were something special and the longer you were together the more you two became one. You are his strength, his driving force, his guardian angel.

Wooyoung:

Mi Guapa[Beautiful]~Where do I even begin with this one. I know to most it might seem simple but to him it’s his favorite way of showing you off. Whether it’s quiet like prayer shared between the two of you or he’s shouting it from the roof tops, he’ll say it with his whole chest, even popping the PA at the end to give it a bit of extra flare.

Jongho:

Mi Tesoro[Treasure]~He’s not the type to go the extravagant or flashy route as he’s not really the kind to do PDA but to him this nickname for you is perfect and still in a way unique. He feels as though you bring out the best in him which is why to him he found his treasure the day he met you.

Taglist: @a-soft-hornytiny​​​​ @little-precious-baby​​​​ @seojonneh​​​ @perfectlysane24​​​​ @hyunsuksmygod​​​​

[andkisses]

♡ preview of coming attractions ♡ unedited and full of feeling  ♡

love goes to love [guardian angel!yeonjun]

And then you hear it–the polite twinkle of little bells.

You turn in circles, looking over your shoulder, spinning like a lost dog, trying to locate the noise.  It’s small, delicate.  You’d just brush it off, blame it on the hunger, if not–there.  You step off the path before you can even realize what you’re doing, pushing past the brush. You’re thankful for the chilling weather, for the long pants and jacket sleeves that take the bite of underbrush for you.

Then, a glow.

It’s golden white, almost pearlescent.  You push past the branches, step over the rocks, and tumble–your foot stepping onto a stone at the wrong place.  Your footing goes out, and you fall, rolling over yourself through the brush and undergrowth, down the hill.  In the back of your head, as you gently roll to a stop at the bottom, you hear your friend Yuna's voice.  “They build paths in preserves up on elevated spaces.  The illusion of feeling safe, you know?  That’s what my aunt told me.”

You push yourself up, the middle of your right palm stinging from a cut you don’t have to see to know is there.  You stumble a little, standing upright, and when you look up–

The breath is knocked from your lungs.  Bright angel.  You’re unsure of whether or not you spoke aloud or merely thought it, but the being turns their head toward you, and you feel any resolve you had left give way.

He’s gorgeous, dressed in flowing white fabric with fancy collars.  His hair is a kind of ashy grey, long and grown over his eyes with a part down the middle.  His eyes roam to look around, and you see the reddish around them, as if he were exhausted.  He's still beautiful, so beautiful, to the way his nose slopes and his lips pout.  Oh, his lips.

You step closer, leaves crushing beneath your feet.  That’s when you actually see them, when bright angel finally makes sense.  His wings, feather and white and pearlescent just like the glow around him.  They move and bow slightly with his breaths.  Your fingers shake as you reach out toward them.

And then, he speaks, crystal clear.  You watch his head tilt, his eyes soften with recognition, his lips rise into a small smile.  You can’t believe what you hear, falling to your knees in front of him.  He sighs, reaching out for you.  “Y/N, at last.”

+

body guard taehyun [mentions of blood, injury]

It’s your turn to shrug.  “Too late to really be sorry for anything,” you say.  “It’s happened.”

Taehyun’s quick to take in the site—you, frozen in front of the mirror; a set of soft washrags next to the running sink; a single soft, oversized hoodie still folded.  You’re still stuck, eyes locked on yourself, or whomever it is in the mirror.  Then, with one hand gentle on your shoulder, and the other with a fresh washcloth, he asks, “May I?”

It’s such a cliche—having a crush on your bodyguard—and you never thought it would be you.  You aren’t sure why you thought you were different, especially when Kang Taehyun was your bodyguard.  You shared a suite, your room and small wing on one end, his on the other, significantly smaller but still there, seperated by a small round parlor.  Seeing the same person day in and day out, every waking hour—he was at your media training and public events.  He had his meals when you did—and if you missed one, he was bringing a tray to your room and sitting on the edge of your bed, eating with you while he politely pried into your likes and interests and you pried back.

+

good boy/”bad” boy jacob 

and it's like you're seeing an entirely new person before you.  gone is the demure boy from chemistry.  you watch his body move in time to the music, his head thrown back with laughter, a grin plastered on his face, a cup in his hand.  you see how he keeps an eye on everyone around him, how everyone looks at him.  you notice how he never, not once, looks your way.

and the worst part?

even though your image of jacob bae has shifted, and your roommates words echo through your head on repeat, nothing has changed.

your heart beats wild as your eyes follow him until he leaves the room, vanishing into the kitchen.  your chest is tight, your breath is short, and you grip the back of the couch in front of you to keep you grounded, to keep you from hitting the floor.

your lovesick, school girl crush isn't going anywhere. 

[darkdevasofdestruction]

When They Meet Your Ex

Risotto Nero

Risotto would crush your ex’s head between his goth gf tiddies if he ever tries to get anywhere close to you.

You were on a park date on a late evening, not wanting to attract attention, but Risotto’s hat bells seemed to attract all the attention from passer-bys...

And by that, I mean cute little stray kittens would tried climbing up his pants to reach the bells.

Seeing you giggle at that, he only sighed and with the ghost of a smile, he suggested you sit down by the tree and play with the kittens.

It was all super cute at the beginning, seeing your lovely smile made his heart go WRYYYY with happiness, but that was rather short lived.

“Huuh? Y/N, that you? What are you doing with that weird looking clown? And why do you look like you’re wearing his way too large and washed out Metallica Tshirt?” hearing that familiar voice, you gasped and looked up, only to see the irritating face of your ex. “Honestly...Can’t I get a nice and quiet night without you around? Actually, why did you even stop? Come on, go away! I don’t feel like killing my braincells speaking to you again.” you humphed, looking away from him. “Awe, don’t be so hostile with me, babe! You definitely weren’t like that some time ago.” he smirked, as your eye twitched in annoyance. “Don’t call me that! It’s disgusting hearing that coming from your filthy mouth! You lost that privilege long ago!” your voice was lower, dripping with poison with each word. “I don’t think you should be speaking to me like that, considering how much you downgraded. Were you that desperate that you just forced yourself on the first person you saw?” he asked in a patronising voice. “I’m not you to force myself on people who don’t like me.” your voice even harsher now, but your big tiddy goth gf decided to step in. “To think that someone like you would speak like that about my girlfriend in front of me...You sure are a dumb fuck.” Risotto’s deep and dark voice echoed through the park as he stood down, towering over your ex. “Y-You’re not that scary, y’know?” your ex stuttered out those words, but that only made your boyfriend smirk. “Is that so...? Y/N, do I have your permission to teach this shrimp a lesson? No Stand needed, just my fists.” he asked, cracking his knuckles. “Permission granted. Just give me a good view of his blood flying around and I’ll be happy. I’ve been dreaming for this guy to get beat up for so long!” you giggled, leaning down on the tree with a relaxed look, with kittens all over you, as you enjoyed the show, your sweet boyfriend cursing the bastard over and over again, with each punch.

By the end of it, after making sure there’s no more blood on his hands and the jerk ran away, you called him to put his head on your lap, and kissed him tenderly, a smirk on your face.

“Who’d have thought that the best revenge is served bloody.” you chuckled, playing with his beautiful silver hair. “I would know.” he said simply, letting out a calm exhale.

---

Bruno Buccellati

You were at the restaurant with the team, as Bruno was away on a little errand and asked you to make sure the gang doesn’t destroy the restaurant, which wouldn’t really be a surprise, to say the least, but still.

“Okay, Narancia, I know you can do it. This is pretty easy, but you have to focus and take it one step at a time. What is 5 x 6? Take your time.” you asked sweetly, as you stood behind Narancia’s chair, your arms around his neck, your chin resting on the top of his head as he kept thinking and trying to count on his fingers. “Uh....30! Right? Right?” he asked energetically. “Yes, that’s right, congrats! And now, how much is 9 x 7? I know it’s a bit more difficult, but take you time and you’ll get it right!” I tried to hype him up, which made Mista and Fugo chuckle. “I honestly don’t have a clue how you can have so much patience with that braindead idiot.” Fugo complained, leaning back on his chair. “OI! WHO’RE YA CALLING A BRAINDEAD IDIOT?!” Naracia jumped on his feet as if electrocuted, which made me gasp and throw my arms around his torso, trying my best to keep him from fighting with Fugo. “Guys, settle down already! You don’t want to give Bruno trouble, do you?” I tried to reason, but they were long gone in their own word, while Mista was laughing, Giorno was pretending he didn’t know them and Abbacchio was ignoring us by listening to music. “Woaw...You’re a mess as always. Who are these guys anyway? Your groupies? Nah, these 2 seem way too young for that...They couldn’t be your kids, could they?!” a weirdly familiar voice called out from the entrance of the private space where we ate our meals, which made everyone stop what they were doing, snapping their heads towards the new person. “Oh...It’s you. Great, my day can’t get any worse, can it?” I dragged my hand down my face in aggravation. “So they ARE your children! What the hell, you said you didn’t want any children! I begged you so much, and you still denied me! And now?! What the hell, Y/N?!” he shouted, his eyes wide with shock. “These guys are 15 and 17, so if you can come up with a viable explanation on how I, at Y/A years old, could possibly have them as children, then congratulations, you win. Otherwise, I have to say, you’re the most braindead person I’ve ever met...Which wouldn’t be a surprise, considering everything.” I sighed, walking in front of him, staring him down, despite the height difference. “And who do you think you are, speaking to me like that, you little bitch?!” he screamed in your face. “Oi, Y/N, need a little help beating up this guy?” Abbacchio’s low voice called out, but you merely shook your head. “Nah, this is more personal. Listen, idiot, you aren’t allowed here. Restaurant’s rules. This place is reserved only for us, so get your sorry ass away from here before I kick you...Not that you wouldn’t like it, seeing how much of a masochistic freak you are.” you growled, pushing your finger into his chest repeatedly, to make him step way, but he grabbed your wrists tightly. “I think I’ll be leaving this place with you-” he began to speak, before a hand grasped his shoulder from behind so hard that he yelped in shock and pain.

“Now, now, I think mia bella told you already that this is a private place and you should leave. Unfortunately for you, you were stupid enough to touch her, so now you must suffer the consequences for your actions.” Bruno, glaring at the jerk, grabbed him by the shirt and threw him out of the restaurant, before talking to someone on the phone and returning to you, kissing your temple and holding his arm around you protectively, as he guided you back to the table. “Are you my guardian angel, Bruno? You always come to my aid when I need it the most, yet least expect it.” you chuckle, leaning your elbow on the table and gazing at him with a tender look. “I’d say it’s the other way around, but I won’t complain either way. Don’t worry about him, he won’t bother you again, I made sure of that.” he held your hand, intertwining your fingers together, before leaning on his chair, smirking at the others. “How did they behave today?” “On their best behaviour, of course! They are always little angels, and look! Narancia’s getting better at multiplying!” I clap in glee, showing him the new pages in his notebook. “Great job, Narancia, well done! And you, Fugo, for not getting angry at him.” Bruno praised them, but the two only shared a look of unease, as they laughed awkwardly, nodding.

--- Abbacchio Leone

You and Abbacchio were enjoying your day off together at a little cafe in town, knowing very well that none of the guys would bother you the whole day, so you were both pretty happy with that.

Your hand was over his, on the table, as you discussed random bands and were hyped about upcoming concerts in Italy that you were definitely going to together and would buy matching merch that you could wear and flaunt off how cool the two of you were together.

The problem is, however, when someone suddenly put their hands on your shoulders, making you jolt in your seat in surprise, before twisting behind to see who it was -

Only to have the misfortune of seeing your ex.

“Oh great, just what I needed. I got rid of the gang’s annoying antics, but I have to see another, much worse...Argh, whatever, I won’t even bother. Just leave, I don’t want to deal with you.” you roll my eyes, turning back to Abbacchio, obviously with a dramatic hair flip. “Awww, come on, admit that you missed me. I mean, what is this? Your new goth girlfriend, or what? I know I’m irreplaceable in your heart, but come on, no need to pretend that you don’t miss me.” he smirks, sitting on the empty chair next to you. “Oh, bother...” you facepalmed, looking at your boyfriend with an exasperated look. “Your tea is ready, sir, madam. Cherry Vanilla with extra Cinnamon.” the waiter put the teapot on the table, along with two cute little purple cups. “I am sorry, I thought it would be only the two of you. Should I bring another cup for the new sir?” the waiter asked politely, and while you were ready to deny, but Leone was faster than you. “Yes, please.” he answered simply, making you widen your eyes at him, but seeing his mischievous smirk, you realised his plan, which made you put your hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles. “You are very polite, dear Leone. More polite than I could ever be, I must confess.” you confessed, which earned a condescending laugh from your ex. “Well, you were never that much of a kind girl to begin with, Y/N, but that’s why I love you! We complete each other so well! I’m the good one, you’re the bad one...!” he trailed on, until the waiter brought the 3rd cup, and your ex tried to reach for the tea cup, but you slapped his hand away. “Go wash your hands! You can’t sit at the table with dirty hands! I don’t really care if you do it when you’re by yourself, but you should know by now that I’m hygene-obsessed!”  you tried to reason without drawing suspicion to yourself. “Jeez...Can’t believe I stayed with a nagging bitch like you for so long...” he muttered under his breath, but got up and left for the bathroom anyway. “This is gonna be fun.” you giggled, as you poured the tea for for you and Leone, before putting the teapot back. “Now’s my part.” he smirked, as you looked away, giggling, not even able to stop as you imagined how funny it’d be. “I’m back now, babe! Did you miss me~?” he asked in what seemed to be a very failed smooth act, which made you scoff. “You wish.” you snorted, looking away. “Ah...You didn’t pour me tea too, how rude. Well, nevermind, it’s not like you ever had any initiative anyway.” he got the teapot and poured himself a cup, as you and Abbacchio sipped at the same time. “How do you like it?” you giggle, looking at him as he took a big sip from his cup, before gulping and choking. “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?! IT TASTES HORRIBLE!” he yelled at you, as you could barely stop yourselves from laughing. “It’s tea, what else could it be?” you smirked, watching his angry expression, as he tried to leap towards you, but Abbacchio was much faster, taking him by the scruff of his blouse and kicking him out, getting him banned from the cafe, before turning back and sitting with a large smirk on his face. “That was such a great success.” you laughed, high-fiving your smug boyfriend. “Nobody messes with my girlfriend...And honestly, this trick didn’t work with Giorno, so it just had to work with this idiot.” he chuckled lowly, before throwing away the remaining piss-tea and ordering another kind of hot beverage. “We’re the perfect duo, baby.” you kissed his lips while giggling slightly, before getting back to your seat and continuing your conversation from where you left it.

---

Kujo Jotaro

Today had been a very nice and peaceful day for Jotaro, and he intended on keeping it that way.

His mother didn’t annoy him too much with her goodbye kiss, the groupie that kept following him everywhere was rather tame today, not clinging on him as much, the teachers didn’t annoy him, the weather was fine, you promised to meet him in the park after school, with a bento prepared for the both of you, while helping him with some studies.

All went so well so far.

You were happy, and your bright smile managed to even put a smile on his face, and you two sat at the base of a very large and old oak tree, as you fed him the bento you cooked, and after that, you let him put his hat on your head, something he absolutely adored and made his heart beat faster, as he’d put his head on your lap and would let you stroke his hair, as you’d chat randomly and watch the clouds.

Everything was so perfect...

Or so Jotaro hoped.

But there just can’t be a perfect day without something bad happening.

Just as you leaned down to plant a soft kiss on Jotaro’s forehead, some people started approaching you. At first, neither of you thought anything of it, thinking it was just random people passing by, but that was far from the truth.

“Oi, oi! Who’s that over there? It that Kujo? With a girl?” the obnoxious voice echoed through the park, and while Jotaro was merely annoyed, you unintentionally remembered the voice, and flinched in annoyance. “Great, just what I needed today.” you grumbled, tipping the front of your hat, a habit you took from your boyfriend. “Yare Yare Daze...Do you know them?” Jotaro asked in a low voice, getting up and glaring at the 3 boys walking over. “Yeah...That bastard in the middle is my ex. Kill me now.” you sighed, hiding your face completely with the hat that was already extra large on you. “Ah! No way, is that you? Really? Y/N? What the hell? Didn’t you keep preaching how you wanted a smart boyfriend? Tsk...I knew it. You really aren’t as smart as you think you are.” he shook his head, whisking away the hat, making you immediately jolt to your feet, trying to get the hat away. “Get that back! Come on, don’t be a jerk! It’s not even mine, you have no right to take it away! Just give me the hat and go away, I really didn’t want to see you again!” you reached up, trying to get the hat, but it was out of your reach. “Only if you give me a kiss. Come one, Y/N, you broke up with me in such bad terms, why not make it better?” he tried to reach his hand towards you, but you slapped it away hard. “Don’t even think of touching me, you jerk! You don’t deserve anything!” you stepped back, glaring at him, but you didn’t realise you bumped into someone, until you looked up and noticed it was Jotaro. “You have 3 seconds to give back my hat and run away.” he threatened, but your ex was having none of it. “And who the hell do you think you are? Her little play toy? Don’t you know? He loves to play around until she gets bored! And then she’ll just throw you away like garbage! Come on, man, I’m looking out for a bro here!” your ex tried to reason, but Jotaro was having none of it. “I don’t appreciate trash like you talking like that about my girlfriend. You have 2 more seconds before you’re dead.” Jotaro glared threateningly at them, putting you behind him protectively. “E/N, man, you don’t know him? He’s Kujo Jotaro, he’s known in the whole city for beating everyone up, even teachers. He never lost a fight! I wouldn’t go against him!” one of his friends explained, backing away from him, not wanting to get caught up in this mess. “One...” Jotaro stepped forward, grasping the front of your ex’s shirt. “Fine, whatever, here’s your stupid hat, now let me go!” your ex threw the hat at him, which he grabbed with his other hand and gave it to you. “Time’s up.” Jotaro smirked slightly, cracking his fists. “What?! You said you’d let me go!” your ex seemed to have fear flashing in his eyes as he tried to step back. “I said you have 3 seconds to return the hat AND run away.” and with that, Jotaro unleashed a barrage of ORAs at your filthy ex, rendering him barely able to walk as he got away by his 2 minions. “Well, that was surely satisfying to watch.” you chuckled slightly, before returning to your spot at the base of the tree. “Thank you for that. It was a pretty fine revenge, to be fair.” you smirked softly, taking out your notebooks from your bag. “Yare Yare Daze...Only cowards these days.” he shook his head before smiling, seeing you with his hat back on your head. “I can’t deny that. But doesn’t matter, you’re the best anyway. There’s nobody who can replace you in my heart.” you put your hands on his face before stealing a quick kiss from him. “Come on now, dolphin boy, let’s see what you want to revise for the Entrance exam.” you grinned, lifting up the hat so you could see a bit. “That’s my girl.” the ghost of a smile plastered on his face, as he put his arm around you, leaning back the tree and having you leaning on his chest, relaxing with the notebooks in your lap.

[soukokuwu]

DAZAI OSAMU

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍

》 angst, unfortunately (dazai x reader)

》 trigger warnings! suicide themes, death

》 word count: 2.3k

》 notes: you saw him for the exact opposite of what he was. he did you a favour, but everything has a price. and now he has come to collect.

》 a story where Dazai is an angel

The ring of the shopkeeper’s bell. The smooth wood of the door. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The taste of baked ham. The sun illuminating the alley right outside the cafe.

There he appeared again. After ten years.

He looked just as you remembered. He didn’t age. Bandage over his right eye. Black hair a mess, covering one half of his face. Deep brown eyes as alluring as ever, piercing into your very soul. Black tailored suit, black tie, white dress shirt, same as the last time.

Although, there was one thing different about him.

Black feathered wings that used to be almost miniscule compared to his person— no, could you even call him that? Body. The wings that used to be diminutive compared to his body were now thicker and wider, standing even taller than his frame.

You were painfully aware that only you could see his beauty. Everyone else walked past him without regard. You strolled over to the figure, aware that he saw himself far from what you made him out to be in your head. That wouldn’t deter you from believing that of him though.

Your guardian angel.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Scribbling.

Sound of pen against paper had been all you could hear.

The pen had been discarded and you felt a pat on your head. You had looked up into his eyes. Empty. Vacant. Hopeless.

He had grabbed your hand and led the way. Something had been weird about the route he took that day. That had not been the usual way the two of you took to your school.

A left instead of a right. A bookshop instead of a cafe. The hustle and bustle of people instead of the usual seclusion. Yet you never questioned him. He had been the adult after all. Maybe there was a special event today that you had forgotten about. Yes, that could be why he hadn’t taken you straight to school.

The two of you had finally reached the train station. It had only been on rare occasions that you would step foot there, given that your family hardly ever went out. Even at twelve years old you could tell that your parents were struggling financially. In spite of that, though, you were all happy together. As long as you had each other, your mom would always say.

It had been a windy day. The sky turned a darker shade of grey. It had not been too crowded for a weekday morning in the subway station, so you could see the sky clearly even though you had been a short little child back then.

An announcement played, saying the train would be delayed and it would take a while longer. You looked around, trying to find the display screen that estimated the next train’s arrival.

However, something moved past you and caught your eye. A single black feather fell in front of your face and you eyed it until it touched the ground. You gripped your father’s hand tighter out of fear, but it barely registered in your father’s head. He was much too preoccupied with his own thoughts. Scared as you had been, curiosity got the better of you and you looked around for the source. It could not have been a crow, so where could the feather have come from?

Just as you were looking, you spotted him there, near the front of the platform, facing your direction. A general disinterested look, blank chocolate eyes looking straight ahead at absolutely nothing, dark brown hair and small black wings floating in the breeze. Even all those years ago, he looked breathtaking to you. Something that was supposed to instill fear intrigued you instead. He spoke of something in a soft murmur, in a voice low enough you couldn’t make out what it was.

A pair of watchful eyes followed him as he walked toward you, looking around at everyone on the platform. As the creature passed by you, he stopped in his tracks. His body stiffened and he slowly turned to look at you, who had been blinking up at him skeptically.

“This human is creeping me out,” he had murmured to himself, gulping and then bending his knees to get leveled with you. His eyes had then seemed alive for that split second, filled with intrigue. “It’s as if she can see me.”

“But I can,” you said, almost causing him to stumble over.

The creature blinked in succession as he tried to register what you had just said.

“You can... see me?”

You nodded, attention completely focused on the peculiar being in front of you. He had ominous black wings, but you didn’t feel scared of him at all. You then proceeded to question him about why it was that nobody else could see him. But everything he had shared with you about the different dimensions and how it worked were too complicated for you to remember. Being the inquisitive child you were, you kept interacting with the being. Banter and jokes were all you remembered sharing with him that day.

“You’re funny,” you had told him, laughing at the stupid joke he shared.

The creature had laughed too, before his expression shifted slowly into that of hesitance. You had asked what was wrong, but he shook his head, claiming it had been nothing. He was seemingly looking at something past you, but he hogged your attention by asking if you wanted to see a magic trick. Excited, you had given him all your focus, and by the time you clapped for him and noticed the absence of your father’s hand, you realised you were someplace else.

It was a peaceful place. The both of you were situated in a meadow, surrounded by a sea of colourful flowers. The skies there were a dark grey too. The only sound you could hear was that of the wind blowing. You were alone there with him, your father nowhere in sight. Despite having been teleported to a foreign dimension with someone you barely knew, all you had been thinking of was how much you wanted to explore this place.

“I can’t see the station anymore,” you had casually remarked.

“Sometimes it’s better to see what isn’t there instead of what is,” the creature had replied, an ache in his tone you didn’t miss.

Before you could ask him what he meant, warm droplets of rain started falling onto your face. The creature used his wings to shelter you from the rain, letting himself get drenched. His wings were too small to cover the both of you at the time. Feeling bad, you had asked if he could take you to his home so that you both would get shelter. The flash of melancholy that took over his face you could not have missed.

“Not now, you have to get back home,” he murmured gently, patting you on the head. You nodded in resigned compliance, catching a glimpse of the words imprinted on his wings.

Osamu Dazai.

The world around you began to shimmer and flow together, the colours of the flowers mixing together in circles. It was all making you sick, and so you chose to close your eyes. Everything was spinning. But as you felt a few raindrops fall onto your face, it stopped.

When you opened your eyes next, you found your mother sat next to you on your bed, crying over your body, hugging you when she realised you had come to.

The creature was nowhere in sight.

And neither was your father.

»»-------------¤-------------««

No one told you what really happened that day until a few years ago, when your mother was on her deathbed. Initially, she had just claimed that your father had to move to another city and wouldn’t come back. You were twelve but you weren’t that stupid. You didn’t believe her, but you thought better than to press her about it.

However as she was dying, she told you the real story of how your father disappeared. She recounted to you his suicide note, word for word. He had had enough of his life. Apparently the happiness you saw in your family as a kid was all a facade. Your father was far from a joyful man. He was beyond depressed, with a shit job and a shittier financial situation. His wife had lost interest in him as a man and his only solace had been you. Which was why he wanted to bring you with him. To die with him.

His plan that day was to jump in front of a moving train with you. But that creature had saved you at the last minute. According to witness accounts, they saw you let go of your father’s hand just as he was about to jump off the platform before you fainted on the spot. There was a small boy who swore he saw a man with brown hair and black wings who pried you away from your father, but of course the authorities didn’t take him seriously.

»»-------------¤-------------««

The city looked so much better from way up high. It had been a while since you were here. The wind blowing reminded you of that day when you were teleported to another dimension. You shifted your gaze from the scenery to the figure beside you. He had followed you here all the way from the cafe. He looked even more mesmerising now with a soft smile plastered on his face.

“Dazai?” You called out hesitantly.

The being nodded in acknowledgement. However, you found you couldn’t quite find the right words to say now that he was here, in the flesh.

“Ask me.”

His statement stunned you. It was a gentle kind of prodding, indicating he understood the situation. You were almost a hundred percent sure by now of his answer, and as much as you would like to confirm it, you decided against it.

“You’re my guardian angel, Dazai.”

It was not what he really was, but it was true all the same. He had saved you as a child even though he had absolutely no reason to. Osamu Dazai saved you even though he had been, and was still, the embodiment of death.

“I’m the angel of death,” he uttered, completely monotone. Dazai looked puzzled now, his lips pressed into a firm line. He shifted his gaze and looked out at the view of the city from his spot on the skyscraper. The streets surrounding this building were somewhat secluded, save for two or three pedestrians walking below. You caught a look of understanding that seemed to wash over him, as though a sudden realisation of your intentions, and why he even appeared before you in the first place.

You thought back to all those years ago, when you tried to convince people you weren’t crazy. In hindsight, telling people about a heavenly creature that saved you from death’s grip wasn’t the brightest idea. It had resulted in years of bullying, several counts of physical abuse and a consequent depression that you wished would go away.

Where you would normally be shut in at home, today you were out and about. You had taken work leave. All your colleagues were stunned into silence yesterday when you offered everyone cupcakes. They should; you usually didn’t even respond much even when spoken to. But the day before, everyone found you pleasant to be around, and you could see the looks of relief on all of their faces. They all spoke of not being able to wait to see you the next day.

Everyone who thought they knew you took it as a sign of you getting better. But no. To you it was a sign of clarity. You felt more upbeat today than any other day. It was because you knew exactly what waited for you at the end of the day: oblivion.

Before you knew it, you were standing at the edge of the building. Your legs trembled slightly when you realised just how high up you were. The fear was taken over by confusion when you felt warmth envelop your right hand.

Dazai’s fingers were intertwined with yours and he offered you the most comforting smile you’d seen in a long while. You were completely perplexed by the words he uttered next.

“I’ve always wanted to commit a double suicide with a beautiful lady when I was human.”

You had expected that he was the angel of death, but you never thought he had been human before. How it worked you would never find out, but there was something you wanted to know.

“Aren’t angels like you immortal?”

“My death was set in stone the moment I saved you from myself.”

Dazai did not need to explicitly tell you, but you deciphered it anyway. It was a simple message: your death would spell his. That’s all there was to it. A curse of some sort, because he had failed his duties all those years back. He forcefully saved a soul bound to death by his own hands. This was his punishment. But he did not look the least bit unhappy.

If anything, he radiated pure bliss. It was a bittersweet moment. The person you had dreamt of countless times in your life, the one you had fantasised finding again and again— he finally appeared but it was on an ominous condition. It only meant one thing: you would not change your mind today.

Your legs stopped trembling. Your heart started pounding faster in your chest. The warmth of the noon sun was getting uncomfortable. Yet you found the warmth of his hand relaxing.

Without warning, you felt your hand being yanked toward him, your body covered in his warm embrace. This time, his wings were big enough to shield both you and him from the outside world. You could see nothing but his face. You were pressed against his chest, foreheads touching and eyes glued to each other’s. You felt any fear you had dissipate into the void.

“Will you meet me in another life?”

You couldn’t help but ask. It was something you were wishing for, no matter how impossible it may seem: to get to know Osamu Dazai as a person. You hoped to find him in that other life, if it was possible at all. You wanted to get to know him, to understand his soul, preferably as equals.

Dazai’s unbandaged eye was clouded with a certain bewilderment before it reverted back to a gentle kindness, one you had seen many years before.

“I promise.”

Deep down you knew it was bullshit. You could sense his uncertainty. But as you both plunged to your death, the words were the only comfort you found, aside from the tenderness of his hug.

You opened your eyes to look into his once more, and then everything went black.

A scream.

And then nothing.

tags: @yokelish

[sloppy-butcher]

Angel of Music

The Wraith (Philip Ojomo) x Survivor!Reader 

ok so

I’m probably very late to this, like 3 years late, but whatever just hear me out

My smooth brain has been going crazy lately for Phantom of the Opera and i just realized how similar Wraith’s “Angel of Music” cosmetic is to the drama (i mean, i known it is inspired by it but like). 

so now with this glorious revelation, me and the monkeys in my head have come up with the brilliant idea to write a Phantom of the Opera inspired Wraith fic. gods speed you funky lil dudes. 

note;; this is going to be very OOC for him. I’m am going to model wraith to be more like the phantom he is dressed as, thus expect a more devilish, seductive creature rather than the tree-man we already know. also, he can talk now. maybe sing

literally no one asked for this

word count: 4110

TW: Death and blood. Stalking and obsession. Musicals 

This place is an undeniable and indisputable nightmare. An eternal night that twists and corrupts all with shadows and despair. From the repetitive game of cat and mouse that almost always ended in death to the ever-present feeling of eternal damnation, there is absolutely nothing inherently good about the Fog. There wasn’t even light. As if stuck in the haze of an ecstasy-trip, time bleeds into itself seeming to stretch on forever yet also never move an inch. A true paradox.

And to make matters somehow even worse, you had started to hear voices in your head.

It first spoke to you on one of your regular trips into the woods. Scavenging for tools and items that could be used in trials, you hummed to yourself. Oblivious to the world around you, lost to the music playing in your head. It was easier to forget the horrors of the night and give in to the melody of some old song than to ponder on dangers yet to come. You found personal peace in singing, drowning out all your earthly worries by the power of your own imagination. The fog swirled and swelled with the rise and fall of your song and out in the darkness the voice made its presence known. ‘Sing louder.’ You obliged willingly.

Initially, you had chalked it up to your heightened sense of purpose and inner monologue being superimposed so as to form its own being. You would command yourself in third person, detaching and driving your body as your thoughts spoke. Intuition personified. This theory made sense; endless panic often causes those to develop the most peculiar of coping mechanisms. In passing conversations with the other trapped souls you realized that they too had their quirks; one had a rubber band that he snapped on his wrist whenever scared, another rubbed dirty into her palms to stop them from sweating and so on. Unfortunately, you had developed the most bizarre habit out of everyone else. You only started to question the voice’s true intention when its orders became more sinister.

‘Leave him.’ It spoke over your shoulder referring to your teammate dying on hook, an open exit gate before you. ‘Run away.’ It commanded to your half-way through healing another when you spotted the killer fast approaching. All these new and selfish instructions, although ensuring your survival, left you feeling hollow inside. You escaped but at what cost? The lives of your friends. If it really was your true self talking to you then, by default, did that mean you were as evil as the voice was? No! You plead. You were a good person. By God you were human, and the weight of all the death and suffering inflicted by your obedience to the voice began to crush your conscience. You couldn’t even look the others in the eyes anymore.

You couldn’t just ignore the voice either. When it spoke there seemed to be an almost physical force behind it, driving it and giving it momentum. Sometimes it even felt as if someone was standing right behind you reaching out and instructing you with their hand as they whispered in your ear. There was also the fact that you drew strange comfort from the voice. In this desert place, so drained of softness and angry with hate, you depended on what little gentleness the voice offered you.  

It even occurred to you that maybe, the voice wasn’t even yours - as in it belonged to someone else entirely. An unknown watcher, a ghost or phantom, who somehow had a deep connection to you, a one-way mode of communication. A large part of you wanted desperately to believe that who were just overreacting and that it was all just in your head. Regardless, you just couldn’t shake the feeling.

For what felt like days now the voice had been uncharacteristically silent. You noticed it in your first ever trial with the killer that could go invisible with the toll of his bell. There was no guidance, no consoling vector to take your hand and help you through your problems. You had been left alone like a new-born chick, blindly searching for the love and warmth of a guardian. Feeling completely lost, the panic that sat on your chest was overwhelming in that trial. But oddly enough, no matter what you did wrong, how many times you blew up a generator or accidentally revealed your position, the killer never disturbed you. You didn’t even see him until the end where, standing in the exit gate looking in on the realm, you spotted the figure. Bright eyes gleamed back, a bloody weapon in his hands. He allowed you a moment longer to gawk at him before ringing his bell and disappearing into the night.

Even after escaping the voice didn’t return. Your ears yearned for the sound of it, hungry for its filling noise. You sat alone at the campfire, eyes staring unblinking into the mesmerizing flames. It was so lonely, the panic and unrest mixing into a dangerous concoction in your head. There was nothing good anymore. Why do you keep on trying? Perhaps it would be better if you just gave in already. You almost jumped out of your skin when, as if manifested by your desperate cry, the voice called.

‘Come.’ It sounded from the treeline, darkness bending and beckoning you into it. It didn’t feel real. Perhaps you were imagining it. ‘Come,’ It said again sensing your hesitation. You looked around at the other survivors none of which appeared to notice the disturbance. You faced the forest again, it opened to you like the mouth of a great fish. Your feet itched to run to it. There was a powerful pull and before long you followed it.

The woods were freezing, broken branches grabbing out as you passed them. Through all these adversaries, pushing past doubts and warranted skepticism, you kept your eyes focused ahead. Even with all the warning flags the voice had given you, the pure desperation you had to find anything even remotely kind lit the fire of will under your feet. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? You were dead either way. The trees swayed and whined as a tired wind blew through their crumbling leaves, oddly not even making a noise. As the voice continued to call, luring you away from the safety of other people and fire, you spotted something ahead of you. There just through the fog, like a lighthouse over a raging sea, was a light. It bobbed and sway and wondered away from you through the trees. It was hypnotizing to watch the light flicker deeper into the trees, your feet not needing motivation to follow.

The light and voice mingled in your head, overwhelming every sense until it felt like you were walking through a dream. Your pace was sluggish and sloppy, you couldn’t feel the ground anymore. Just as it seemed you’d never catch up to the light, it suddenly stopped, blinked a few times then popped out of existence. You went to its last location, looking around for any possible signs of anything to help you but instead found yourself completely surrounded by an all impressive mist. It danced through the trees creating unbreakable walls of wood and water. It felt wrong to be here, your head spin around for an exit which came to you in the form of an out-of-place stone archway.

The bright yellow of the stone contrasted brilliantly against the somber atmosphere it lived in. Your mind wasn’t your own as you unknowingly went to it. Beyond the mouth of madness lay a beast in wait, purring as he felt your impending arrival. Eagerness overtook him and slowly the wooden door creaked open to welcome you inside. The tunnel that lay behind was one lit by old candles tinting the world with a much-appreciated golden light. It stretched on for miles, leading down into the earth where, at the bottom drifting up to you like a breeze in a cave, the voice beckoned.

‘Come.’ You stepped inside. ‘Come to me.’ If, by some strange miracle, you could have stopped yourself for a brief moment from descending the tunnel, you might have noticed the voice’s odd word choice. You might have even noticed the person on the other end licking his lips and smiling. Walking as if through honey, you unhurriedly made your way to the yearning voice. Before long the warm light that had bathed you drew back its loving embrace and faded back to absolute darkness.

At the edge of the last candles reach was a room - so large and empty of light that it appeared to have no roof, no walls, no end. You couldn’t help but feel like you had walked into the lair, the most secret and quiet place, of a monster. You couldn't shake the feeling that you had passed the point of no return. The artificial night swallowed you whole; your eyes strained in the pitch black, your ears burning from the total silence save for your own beating heart. The shadows inspected you, looking you up and down while you were none the wiser. His eyes also ate you up, so pleased to have you alone that he let the moment slip into an uncomfortable length.

You wanted to speak, make your claim against whatever had brought you here. You could sense something out there just outside of your already limited view. But the silence held you tight in its suffocating grasp. You dared not even breath. You had to wait for him to make the first move.

“Bravo.” The voice called from somewhere behind you, startling you to the point of drawing a gasp. “Bravo! Bravissimo!” Someone started to clap. You could hear him stepping around you, his voice echoing endlessly around the room, impossibly loud and booming. Although there was something deeply unsettling about the voice, the only thing you could take from it was odd comfort. It was real. A person. A guardian Angel! You spun around on your heels desperate to see the source of your guidance however he managed to remain hidden in shadow. You swear you could hear him grin at your confusion.

“You listen well, my dear.” There was no denying it, it was the voice. Although only now, when it spoke so openly, did you notice that it was inherently male. So relieved with the news that you weren’t going completely mad with disembodied voices, you glazed over the other implications this reveal came with. If it wasn’t yourself than just who have you been talking to all this time? And, the more pressing matter, just who were you stuck with in the room.

The stranger claps again and moves around in the black, shuffling from one side of the room to the other and at times seeming to even be above you, looking down. “I am beyond impressed my dear.” The stranger smiled, unbeknownst to you getting closer with very advance. “Do you know where you are?” No reply. Honestly you had no clue. You had never been in this place before - it felt so detached, so different when compared to all the other realms you had grown accustomed to in the Fog.

“Hell.” The voice answered, purring like a cat with a trapped mouse, teasing it - relishing off its fear. “The deepest pit. And, what’s more, you came here all on your own free-will.” He moved again not content to stay in one spot for too long, trying to view you from every possible angle before he made his last move.

“Won’t you sing for me. My Angel of music. You know the one I mean.” His words hit you like a ton of bricks. A song? As you wracked your brain for whatever he could be referring to, a faint idea began to materialize right in the tip of your tongue. Words of a melody that you swear you had never heard before but still feel familiar with in your heart. The voice, it sang to you. How could you forget!  

“Every night I was there. Whispering my song to you in hopes that one day, you could join in with me.” That was true. Each time you dared to drift off to sleep, the voice would appear. He sang to you, gently and softly, talking into your ear to lull you safely away - only to wake hours later with no memory of the night before. Perhaps that is why you were always so attached to the voice, why its absence impacted you so deeply. There was a build of pressure behind you and suddenly he was there. The stranger towered over you without even looking, his chest pressed tight to your back. Exploring hands went down your arms and slowly brought them up like the two of you were about to start a dance. His head hung low to your ear, his breathing touching your exposed neck. He sucked in and exhaled meaningfully, taking in your smell and touch and your reaction to his closeness.

“Sing.” God, his voice was so smooth, demanding and rich. A sonorous tone that had never been shown to you before this. It shocked you to your core. He sighed again, one hand moving to caress your neck with the other holding your own hand. “Sing my Angel.” Up till now you were passive, sitting ideally in a dream-state as you let the stranger do as he wished. But now you wanted answers.

“Let me see you.” No answer came from the man be it verbal or physical. He remained completely unphased and unchanging.

“Sing.” He commanded again, no anger or annoyance in his tone only patience and hunger. He yearned for you to sing with him, to join in with his symphony. For too long has he gone silent, his soul dying along with his music. The bells no longer tolling and his music fading out like a lit match in the rain. When he found you, fallen like an angel right out of Heaven, humming alone to yourself, he felt the fire of passion ignite within him. You were perfect to him and now, you couldn’t resist him. You were defenseless, night having accustomed you to its unfurling beauty to the point that you were addicted to it – needed it, just as he did. There was no way either of you could go back now. You breathed into him, your nose filling with the smell of pine and smoke, and hesitantly after closing your eyes, you began to sing the words now burning hot in your head.

“Say you’ll share with me,” It wasn’t really singing, rather just breathless talking – a whisper that only the keenest of ears could hear. Regardless of what you sounded like; the stranger cherished every word that left your mouth. He started to shake, his hands holding on to you for support.

“One love, one lifetime.” He joined you now, singing as you did in a volume that only you could truly appreciate. His raspy, low-pitched voice mingling wonderfully with yours, sounding almost desperate to get the words out. Lips grazed your ear sending shivers down your spine.

“Say the word,” His hands tightened their grip as if to empathize his lyrics. “And I will follow you.”

“Say you love me.” Your combined voices bounced around the darkness stirring whatever creatures lay in hiding, your harmony compelling and immensely sorrowful. While a part of you faded into the song’s words, swaying and melting with the stranger content for once, something crawled into your head. The song was ending, and while you wished to stay forever in this blissful embrace, you demanded to know the face behind the voice. Your moment was coming.

“That’s all I ask of -” Slipping out his grasp at the moments climax, you spin around to finally lay your eyes on the stranger. He froze under your gaze, surprised by your sudden action. Looking up at an incredibly tall man, you felt your knees threaten to give out. Staring back were the glowing eyes of a killer, the very one that had, not long ago, tormented your friends. You couldn’t help but gasp and step away from him, breaking his hold on you. You inspected him as best you could in your lack of light, squinting your eyes as hard as you could but nothing in the darkness made itself known to you save for his unmistakable eyes. The stranger noticed your efforts and, fuming at your defiance to play along with him, raised a hand.

“You wish to disobey me? Fine!” The ground shook under foot, his shouting voice ricocheting off the rooms stone walls and sending the world into disarray. “Look at me Angel! In all my glory!” He snapped his fingers.

Suddenly your senses were overwhelmed by blinding white light. You flinched, shutting your eyes to the dramatic change in the room. When next you opened then you found the room to be hazed in familiar yellow candlelight. As if by magic, all candles had all be simultaneously lit. Your attention darted around like a trapped bird before resting on the man standing in front of you, his arms open and expression unreadable. Bathed in new light you could see him in immaculate detail.

Yes, it was the invisible killer, no doubt about it. But something was off about him. He looked different somehow; maybe it was his prim suit, navy fabric decorated with golden lace that fit his slender body snugly giving him a sense of proper and divinity. Behind him hung an extraordinary cape that fluttered in a non-existent breeze. On his face sat a white mask, crooked and dirtied from years of neglect which, in all honesty, covered little to none of his truly disfigured and burnt flesh.

Unparalleled fear began to rise in your chest. He was so tall, powerful and strange that it terrified you to be standing next to him. You stepped backwards, edging closer to the exit. The stranger’s eyes flickered. How could you fear him? He had never hurt you, Angel. All he has ever wanted was to be by your side, to never be lonely in the dark again. He has given you no reason to distrust him, he has never shown you his monstrous side. Yet still you shrunk away from his touch, choosing rather silent suffering than a lifetime of music with him. He felt something break inside him.

You saw his hand twitch, his off-center head bobbing as his labored breathing intensified. He took a small step forward and you replied by taking a large one back. He halted and so did you. Next to the broken thing that rattled around in his bones, he heard something else. A beating heart, weak and faint but somehow still alive. It moved and leaped, reaching out for you to take it and hold. Just standing in your company he heard music start to swell in his ears. You had listened to him once before, maybe he could get you to again.

The stranger's head dropped; through the lumpy cape you saw his shoulders deflate. What was he doing? Playing possum so as to catch you off guard? Whatever it was, you didn’t let the tension ease out your legs. You waited for his next move, ready to run if he tried anything suspicious. You didn't expect the sound of his voice to suddenly start singing again.

“Say you’ll share with me,” He sang his solo, his voice that of an airy murmur as if afraid to sing alone. Every word he sang clung to your ears, kissing your heart and mind with a complex sorrow. Your guard started to halter.

“One love. One lifetime.” He paused, swallowing the lump building in his throat warning to overflow and render him speechless.

“Lead me,” He raised a cautious eye to find you still waiting, offering him the chance to try coax you closer. A fist clutched his chest in an attempt to sooth his aching heart. “Save me from my solitude.” He was certain he was crying but he couldn’t feel the tears; you had his undivided attention.

“Say you want me here...” He faltered here, hand itching to reach out and grab you. “Beside you.”  The stranger could barely form audible words anymore, so slurred and choked up that you unknowingly leaned forward to try hear him better. 

“Anywhere you go,” He tried again, begging you to close the distance and join him. It was heartbreaking, this phantom, this person and the way he sang to you, each syllable dripping with an ocean of unimaginable pain and beastly hopelessness. It was infectious really; you could feel his sadness take over your heart shaking it in an iron grasp. Miserable eyes glared you down as you took the smallest step forward. “Let me go too.”

He didn’t continue - he couldn’t. The horrors of the whispering darkness and this god-awful place left him near-drained. Everything pushed down on him, suffocating him until he thought he was going to pass out. He could only keep his eyes on you. Blurry from tears he held onto your figure like your were a buoy in a raging sea, his only safety, his air. The stranger heaved from trying to maintain his composure. Finally the curtain fell and you gave in. 

Your foot falls were the only sounds that broke the silence in the room. You approached him with little to no conflict in your mind. Yes - he was scary. Yes - he was a monster. But the way he looked at you now, the way he sang and spoke; no killer would beg to be loved the way he did. It was like he was afraid of the dark, of being alone, of being condemned to an existence of pitiful silence. You craned your neck to look up at him, sucking back the wreckage still wavering just outside his control. 

“Pitiful creature of darkness,” The words tumbled out of your mouth, through teeth unfazed by their possible repercussion. You were speaking from your heart. A small hand connects with his unmasked cheek taking in the feeling of old, burnt skin and years of mud. He leans into your warm embracing having forgotten what it was like. “You are not alone.” 

Even on tip-toes you still were short of his lips. It was only when he gave in and leaned down that you were able to kiss him. Eyes closed, shoulders tensing, you melted into the kiss. His lips were rough, chapped, but gentle. He didn’t give anymore pressure until you asked for him, dragging you tongue along his bottom lip asking for entrance. He opened to you gratefully. Inside his mouth housed monstrous sharp teeth and an excited tongue and moved inside your mouth, tasting ever inch of you. He was greedy, demanding everything of yours. When you had nothing more to give, he relented and let you go.

You sank back on your heels gasping for breath. You noticed he was smiling, an odd sight of such a distorted and sad face. 

“My Angel. My Muse.” You felt him move on top of you, a hand sneaking behind your back making to bend over so as not be pressed uncomfortably against his chest. “I have many names of which to call you. I am eager to use them all.” He laughed, the sound rattling your whole body with its bass leaving you quivering. “But you, can call me Philip.” He tilted his head in a mock bow, his free hand grabbing the edge of his cape and fanning it out in respect. You offered you own  meek nod. His smile only widened at your compliance. 

“Come now,” Philip said standing up to his full height, his hand still securing your back. “Let me take you away. Away from all this numb light and into the darkness where no one will find us.” He raised his arm and cape and quickly brought it down around you, sweeping it around the both of your until he had you cocooned. 

The world fell into black again and all you could sense was him; his breathing, his reinforced arms cradling you. You could also hear a faint thumping when you put your ear to his chest - his heart. Once diseased and weak now pumped with vigor and delight. He had you in his grasp and he was never letting you go. You were his everything; his Angel of music.

[dadolorian]

Just like me - Part 3

A/N: Here it is, part 3, i hope this makes up for their little split in p2  Credits: Thank you @oloreaa​ for being my Beta reader/editor !

Title: Just Like me Fandom: Prospect (2018) Ship: Ezra/Reader Warning: More talk of injuries/mental issues as a result. Word count: 6K + KILL ME Master List Request status AO3 Link Previous part Next part - coming soon

It was a good year and a half later when you landed back on central next. Almost two years since you had met Ezra originally. Simultaneously feeling like a lifetime had passed and feeling like you had just seen him yesterday.

True to your word, you had taken the next job you could, taking a standard contract to mine a newly discovered mineral deposit on a sulfur heavy moon for scientific research. It was a decent enough pay once you handed in your harvest to the research team. It didn’t provide you the rush that Aurelac harvesting did, though. It was the kind of job that was a ‘safe bet’, not a gamble, like it was on the Green. You might have waited for something more exciting, but you had wanted to leave central as soon as possible after you had said your goodbyes to Ezra. Wanting to push the memory of him away as quickly as you could. Stupidly believing that out of sight meant out of mind. You followed that job up with another on the same planet, harvesting a highly conductive metal similar to gold, it was used in electronics. It was not the most dazzling payload you had ever collected, nothing exciting or too complicated like the Aurelac, it was backbreaking and tiring, but it filled your pockets well. Despite it being the busiest job you had ever been on, constantly surrounded by the other harvesters on the teams or the research scientists, it was the loneliest you had ever felt on the job.The loss of Ezra’s companionship screamed loudest at you during that time, much to your annoyance. You had taken the job to distract yourself from him, not lament even more.  As you laid in the crowded communal bunk, surrounded by people, physically closer to more people than you ever had been in your entire life, but more alone than ever. Ezra had made you feel like the only other person in the entire galaxy when you spoke, that feeling had not faded due to distance or time. What was once something that made you feel special, important, the center of the entire universe, now made you feel isolated and lost, forgotten, with no Ezra around, feeling like you were the only other person in the universe suddenly became soul crushing. You longed to see him more than all the points in the galaxy, you dreamt about losing yourself in a conversation with him once more, of becoming bewitched in his sparkling dark eyes and alluring, crooked smile. Oh to simply have him curled up beside you on your bunk, not even speaking, just there. You did not slowly start to forget about him as you had originally feared you would.

The return to Central was significantly different this time around, your days aboard the ship home made you more resentful of your past self, as you wandered the halls the two of you used to explore. You couldn’t bear to spend extended time in your quarters, that was where you had enjoyed his company the most, choosing to be in there only for sleep. The departure was much quicker than the last time, you pushed yourself through the busy crowd gathered in the ships entrance foyer to get out as quickly as possible. While the weather was nothing to note when you had last departed, this time it was raining, and dark, well into the night. The ship had landed much later than scheduled due to a passing meteor shower which only dampened your mood further. You had not once stopped thinking about him, you had been convinced you would get over him eventually, you often scolded yourself for how much you yearned for him, the two of you were never anything more than friends but you longed for him the way you imagined you would have a lover. It was like he was your other half, and now a piece of you was missing, ironic for two people who had both physically lost parts of themselves. Returning to the place you had last seen him did nothing to change those feelings. You pushed it away once more, cowardly retreating away from your feelings once again when given the opportunity to make things right. You knew he had to be somewhere on the planet, huddled up in a little home with Cee, you hoped so at least. He was ready to put so much work into becoming her guardian, it would be a huge disappointment if he had been unsuccessful. It would be so easy, to just go grab a phone and call, you knew the number by heart now. You would often trade your books for new ones on a job but you refused to part ways with the one Ezra gave you, even if the messy scrawl was etched into your brain forever. It was the only reminder you had of him, the only proof that he had ever actually existed in your life. You were never able to separate from it, no matter how much you had wanted to push his memory away. You passed the payphones, considering it for the briefest of moments before the call of the job listing board won out to you. Calling him meant confronting the emotions you were trying to bury, and facing your fear. ‘Coward,’ Ezra's voice echoed in your mind, the same thought that you heard every time you considered reaching out. You were terrified of what he would say if you ever saw him again. Shaking those thoughts out of your head, you made your way over to the flickering, beat up screen displaying all the departures, groaning as you went through them all. The next sling out for your company was more than a month away, meaning you had two options, stick around and take a break, or change to a different company. If you changed, you would forgo your 2nd class lodgings and ship, you didn’t have a hush deal with anyone else, so you would have to rent a pod just like every other prospector, your own quarters and ship was a luxury you did not want to pass up. You didn’t even have the chance to use your own ship for the last job, it seemed like a waste to not use it. You groaned loudly in annoyance, running your hands through your hair as you relented that you would have to wait for the time being, last time you never had the opportunity to revel in the spoils of your harvest. 

You supposed this time you could, maybe that would be a better distraction. You trudged out of the arrivals and departures terminal you were in, past the wall of payphones again, hesitating for just a moment before pushing on, through the rain to walk to the strip where you knew there would be hotels. You didn’t bother with a cab, the strip wasn’t that far away and you were cheap, you could walk the distance. Your tired body protested however, the long boring trip after months of backbreaking work, mixed with the rain and delay in arrival, it all wore you down, the emotional baggage you were carrying certainly didn’t help much either. A walk that should have taken you five minutes tops once you left the space port took you close to twenty. The light rain turned into a downpour. It couldn’t get any worse.  

Of course, when someone says ‘it can’t get any way worse’ the universe always seems to prove them wrong. And it seemed the ‘merciful’ universe was conspiring against you, because as you arrived on the hotel strip you were angered to find two were locked, no one bothered to come to the door no matter how many times you rung the service bell, one was shut for construction, another two were out of rooms and the last had a rather snooty desk clerk who decided, just by looking at you, that you couldn't afford their luxuries and you were promptly shooed away. You gave him a piece of your mind as you were escorted away, angrily flipping the clerk off as security escorted you out. This was the industrial district, not a place where high end clients tended to stay. You almost cried as you walked the streets alone, too tired to try and find a new place on foot or even formulate a plan. You were all but ready to collapse in a bus stop or under a bridge, ready to admit defeat and sleep anywhere that was dry when a buzzing light caught the corner of your eye. A singular, beat up old payphone. His number flashed in your head again. You were all but ready to push the temptation away until you realized you were already inside and dialing. Perhaps you were just a little too tired and desperate to stop. Your stubbornness vanishes in hopes for a dry, warm place to sleep. You held your breath in anticipation and dread, a potent mix of emotions swirled through your mind as you waited for it to either ring off or for him to answer. You weren’t sure which one you wanted more. “Hmm? Who the fuck is calling me so god damn early in the morning?” a familiar, tired voice groaned. Your breath hitched. “I swear you telemarketers never understand people need to sleep, I have to wake up early tomorrow- today I imagine for wor-” “Ezra” You whispered, voice barely there, interrupting his tired rambling. “A-Angel?” He gasped, sounding considerably more awake and alert. The two of you listened in silence, him waiting for your response, you struggling to talk. “Y-yeah, it's me,” you sighed, eventually breaking the silence, curling in on yourself to protect yourself from the cold and his reaction. “W-well not that I'm not happy to hear from you, because I am, exceedingly so, but what the matter? Why are you calling?” he asked cautiously, hopefully. “I-uh, I landed back in central like an hour ago...” you whimpered just a bit “I have nowhere else to go. No Hotels and no ride...” You heard some quick shuffling on his end, it sounded like fabric, sheets maybe? He was getting dressed, your tired mind eventually concluded. “Where are you? I’m on my way,” he said. Nerves and panic overcame you for a moment, suddenly faced with the realization that you would see him, as much as you wanted too, you were too scared to face the reality of being confronted by him again. “N-no, there's no need for that,” you stammered. “I shouldn’t have bothered you, I'm sorry I woke you-” “Don’t hang up!” he begged, pleading. It reminded you of the last night you saw him. Guilt stabbed you in the stomach and twisted.  “Please, it's no trouble at all….. I’m not letting you sleep out there all alone, in this rain nonetheless. I am begging you, please let me help you out of this situation. I just want to make sure you're safe, so please, where are you?” You hesitated, biting your lip and listened to his deep, calming breaths before telling him your current location, tiredly reading dim, fluttering neon signs to help him figure out your exact position. He sounded pleased as he was getting ready to race out the door, apparently you weren’t too far from his home. He had to hang up as he headed out, begging you not to go anywhere before he galloped out his door. Once you were greeted with the dial tone once more you hung up the phone and sunk down slowly to the floor of the payphone, too tired to keep standing and soaked to the core as you waited for him. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you had almost fallen asleep, shivering in the cold when soft knocking on the glass roused you. There he stood, on the other side of the glass, drenched to high heavens, goofy, crooked grin you had missed so much, he greeted you with a wave of his one arm. He opened the door with a struggle, you shivered more as the cold night air hit you, and he helped you to your feet. “Easy, Angel, let's get you out this cold and into something dry,” he said, taking your bag from you and leading you in the apparent direction of his home, with his arm securely around you. His hand kept caressing you as you walked, and he constantly glanced at you as if checking you were really there. It was a good thing he lived so close, because apparently he didn’t have a vehicle. You supposed that made sense, driving with one arm would be difficult. He helped you walk all the way there, encouraging you to walk just a bit further each time you sagged tiredly. Before too long you were pulled into his small apartment, too tired to take it in and ready to collapse once more, on the floor if you had to, soaking wet or not. “Angel, I'm going to run the shower for you,” he said, setting your bag down. “I know you’re tired, but you are soaked to the bone. So let's get you warm and dry, hm?” he suggested leading you gently into an equally small bathroom. He ran the shower for you before going off to collect some dry clothes and a towel. “Here, get yourself all warmed up, you can wear these, your bag’s just as soaked as you are I am afraid, it doesn’t fare well for any of your spare clothes,” he said, handing them over to you. Grey sweats and a plain black t-shirt, they were his. “I’ll make the couch up , and you can take my bed.” You began to tiredly protest, mumbling an insistence that you would take the couch, but he wouldn’t allow that. Instructing you to get yourself warm and dry before you got sick. The only reason you relented, apart from being too tired to put up a decent argument, was because he wasn’t going to shower and warm himself up until you were done. Getting him sick wouldn’t help your guilt. Once you were finished in the bathroom, dressed in the spare clothes of his you walked out, half dead, he led you to the bed, helping your groggy mind remove your prosthetic, he placed a towel under it and leant it against the wall upside down. It was something you had never told him to do, but he had most likely noticed you doing it after every shower, back on your return from the Green. A gentle hand tucked you in, hushed whispers to you of how happy he was to see you again as he placed a soft kiss to your forehead and wished you sweet dreams. You weren’t sure how much your tired mind was conjuring it up, but you felt him caress your cheek tenderly before finally leaving. You were quick to drift off, the smell of him surrounding you and the sound of the shower running relaxing you and letting you finally succumb to sleep. 

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Happy chatter and a boisterous laugh awoke you the next morning. Alarmed, you sat up quickly trying to figure out just where you were. The room was unfamiliar, a bed with worn, plain sheets, a dresser partially opened with unfolded clothes spilling out, your prosthetic leaning against the wall. The bedside table and the dresser had multiple novels piled on top of them, but otherwise the room lacked any other personal touches that might have helped your sleep delayed brain. You were alone, and in clothes that weren't yours. Thoroughly confused, you were about to panic, before the smell hit you, a familiar masculine smell you had not forgotten, even after such a long time. A smell you associated with safety, books and a singular warm arm embracing you. Ezra. That’s right, you had called him out of desperation last night. You listened to the voices in the next room, you recognised them as both Cee And Ezra. They were laughing together, you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but they were happy, relaxed. You sat in silence, trying to figure out what to do. There was that stubborn side of you that wanted to run, to double down on the stupid belief that you had kept since you last saw him, simply because you were too prideful and afraid to admit to yourself that you were wrong. But realistically, you knew you could run anymore, you were in his bed, you would have to face him and accept the truth: that you had fucked up, that cutting him off had not made anything easier, that you had been miserable for the past year and a half, even though you had ended your friendship with him to avoid that happening. ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’ you thought to yourself as you heard what sounded like the front door close, and the muffle conversation ended. A few seconds later a gentle knock rapped at the door, Ezra cautiously poked his head into the room. A smile spread on his face when he saw you sitting up and awake. “Angel!” he praised, allowing himself to enter the room. He sat himself on the edge of the bed and took one of your hands in his, stroking your knuckles softly. “I have just made some breakfast for the Little bird, there's still plenty left, would you like some?” he asked, the familiar charming smile that you had missed so much still plastered on his face. You sighed and nodded, giving a timid smile back, put your leg on and quietly followed him out into the main living area, still holding his hand as he led you to your seat at the kitchen counter. Now actually awake you took note of the space. It was small, nothing fancy, just the basics in terms of furniture. A very small lounge area right by the front door, the kitchen directly to the right, with a small island and bar,. A similar sized table and matching chairs stood by the windows, and three doors in the little ‘hallway’ by the kitchen, the bathroom, Ezra's room and what you would assume was Cee's room. The only personal touches around the place was a mess of papers and more piles of books, just like in his room. You were too busy looking to realize Ezra had been speaking as he cooked up some breakfast, it was pancakes. “-And Birdie’s hoping to apply for a literary scholarship, she has the aspiration to become an author, surprise surprise. I instructed her that she has to dedicate at least one of her books to me, and that I intended to get her first copy, signed, mind you.” You managed to catch the end of what he was saying as he finished serving up your breakfast, putting the plate in front of where you were sitting at the little counter bar. He leaned onto the counter opposite you with a smile, allowing you to dig in. You ate in silence, appreciating just how much better the food was compared to the ship you had just gotten off. You were steeling yourself for the conversation that was coming, tension hanging in the air. “I missed you,” he eventually said after you had been sitting silently for too long. You didn’t know what to say, as usual, so you just kept on eating awkwardly, not looking at him. Mentally scolding yourself, ignoring your issues had proven to be ineffective, why do you bother keeping it up? “Please don’t tell me you already regret calling me Angel?”  He sighed at your lack of response, brushing some of your messy bed hair from your face so he could see your eyes better.  You shook your head. “N-no, I just don’t know what to say. I’m not like you Ezra. I can’t just..say how I really feel.” Frustrated with yourself, you looked down at your lap. “Did you miss me?” he asked, voice a mixture of hope and nerves. You sighed loudly, did he really think you didn’t? “Of course I did, Ezra,” you whispered, looking up and meeting his gaze. “I have found myself unable to stop thinking about you Angel,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck and turning away from your gaze. “Nothing I have done has quelled the longing in my heart for your company. I am happy, with this new life I have built with my Little Bird, but I must concede that I have not been successful in my endeavors to find a friendship that meant half as much as yours did to me.” Yet again you were at a loss for words, tears welled up in your eyes and you bit back a sob.  “Angel?” he asked, concern thick in his voice when you let out the chocked sound and the dam inside you broke, the tidal wave of emotions crashing through you that had been pent up inside you for the past year and a half. He was quick to round the counter and pull you off your seat and into his embrace, soothing you with gentle strokes to your back.  “Easy, Angel, easy,” he soothed. “Tell me what is upsetting you so?”  You shook your head, unable to articulate yourself the way he seemed to do so with ease.  “Are you upset about seeing me again?” he tried, you shook your head no again. “N-no, I’m happy to see you again, Ezra, really,” you mumbled into his shirt as you continued to cry.  “But these are not happy tears, Angel,“ he pointed out, cupping your face gently and directing your gaze to his. He brushed a tear away with his thumb. “You are not crying because you are happy to see me. Which perturbs me. I beg of you to tell me what’s wrong?”  “I’m just…” you trailed off trying to find the words, he was looking at you with such patience and support, silently encouraging you to continue. How could you have ever pushed him away? How could you hurt him like that? You did not deserve his kindness, his care, and yet, after pushing him away for no other reason than stubbornness and pride he still, still dropped everything to come help you out, even in the middle of the night in the pouring rain. You wanted to confess every thought, every regret for what you had done, proclaim to him how wrong you had been and that you were an idiot for not listening to him. But those words were trapped, all you could manage was a quiet whisper of “I’m sorry.” His body slumped as he let out a breath you didn’t notice he had been holding. His soft smile grew as he shook his head and pulled you in a tight embrace again.  He placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head. ”And here i thought something was wrong,” he sighed, gently nuzzling the top of your head with his cheek. “I forgive you, of course I forgive you,” he murmured, not letting you go.  He was just too good to you. “You were right,” your voice tight and eyes filled with more tears that threatened to spill. Your fingers gripped the material of his shirt tightly. ”I-I was just being stubborn and there was no reason to cut you out. How can you even look at me? All it did was hurt me more and I let it happen. I hurt you, Ezra.”  He kissed the crown of your head once more. “That you did,” he began,“But I forgive you anyway, Angel. You did not do it out of malice or rancor. I cannot blame you for a misguided belief that you were protecting yourself, as much as your actions pained me, not when you have accepted your faults and have come to amend them.”  “B-but I didn’t,” you admitted in shame, burying your face in his chest. “I had multiple opportunities to call you before last night, I passed them all up until my circumstances changed and I became desperate. I was actively trying to avoid seeing you again until I ran out of options.”  “Such a stubborn woman,” he murmured, rocking you ever so gently in his embrace. “I truly do not care about any of that now, Angel. All that matters is that I was gifted the pleasure of seeing you again. That you did eventually decide to grace my life with your presence once more." Ezra beamed at you, before continuing, "I have sorely missed your company and I am simply too overjoyed about your return to me to even entertain thoughts about anything else." He paused, shifting slightly. "Just please tell me, now that you are here that you will not leave me once more?”  Your arms cautiously wrapped around his middle. “I’ll have to go back to work eventually,” you muttered. “Not like that Angel, you know what i mean,” he said, cupping your face again so you could meet his gaze. “Tell me you won’t cut me out again,” he said, brow stern and eyes searching yours, searching for a truthful response. 

Your lip trembled.”I won’t,” you whispered, voice quiet but resolve clear. “Okay, good,” he sighed, releasing his gentle hold on your face. “Then that is all that matters. We can put the past behind us and continue on.”  “Just like that?” you asked, struggling to accept he was willing to forget everything that went wrong.  “Do you want to sit down and talk about it?” He asked. “I am more than willing to, if that's what you wish Angel.”  “M-maybe not right now,” you sigh, not quite ready to resolve all that emotional baggage just yet.  “When you’re ready, then,” he said, soft encouragement in his voice, kissing your forehead and releasing his hold on you. “Come, let's get you sorted. Your belongings are still soaked, we can get them all washed and dried,” he hummed, trying to cheer you up.  “I can do it at the hotel, when I find one,” you said, not wanting to trouble him.  “H-hotel?” he asked, “I hope I do not come across as too selfish but I would very much like you to stay here. If you’re receptive to that idea?”  “This is your home Ezra” you pointed out. “I don’t want to invade.”  “Nonsense, you are more than welcome. I know it’s not fancy like some of the hotels you can stay at, so I understand if you would choose one over my humble little apartment, but in all honesty I was hoping you would stay, if only for a short while.”  “What about Cee? This is her home too,” you pointed out, brows furrowed in worry. “I spoke to Birdie this morning before she left for school. She is more than happy to have you stay as well,” he said, folding up the blankets still thrown on the couch as best he could. “I made sure of that. I would never invite someone to stay if she was uncomfortable with the idea.”  “I don’t want to trouble you any further-” you started. “It’s no trouble, please Angel,” he said, cutting you off. “I am asking because I want to, and I am not ready to say goodbye to you yet, even if it is just for a few hours.You can even take my room-” “Keeva no, Ezra,” you sighed. “I’ll stay, alright. I don’t want to say goodbye just yet either, but I am not going to make you sleep on the couch in your own home.”  “I am quite alright with it Angel,” he said.  “Yeah right,” you scoffed. I can tell just by looking at that thing you don’t fit on it properly. I’m smaller, I'll actually fit on it. And that’s final,” you said poking him in the chest. He was about to protest again, ready to insist  but you interrupted him before he had a chance to voice himself. ”If you do not accept me sleeping on the couch I will go find a hotel,” you said, tone stern as you crossed your arms, challenging him to continue.  He sighed, giving up. Reluctantly letting you take the couch so you would stay. 

It felt good to have him back in your life, helping you once more, and you him, there was still a little tension between the two of you which you would have to talk about eventually, later, as you had agreed. For the time being, it was just nice to have him back. He helped you with all your wet clothes in his apartment buildings tiny laundry room, the two of you sitting opposite the running machines on the scuffed ground side by side as you waited, catching up. Absence had done nothing to wear at the connection you shared. He told you of the difficult process of becoming Cee’s legal guardian, the hoops he had to jump through. The desperate search for a stable job and apartment so he could provide for her. You felt another pang of guilt, having abandoned him in such a difficult time, but he assured you he felt no ill will. He now had 2 jobs, one meaneal labour job that wasn’t so difficult he couldn’t do it with one arm, and another at the spaceport you had just departed from, he was essentially a security guard. It was basic work, he had told you, nothing he took particular pride or passion in, just something to pay the bills and provide for Cee until she went to college. He confessed just how much he missed prospecting, he chased that thrill of a good harvest just as you did. He begged you to tell him tales of your last exploit back out into the stars. “Sorry Ezra, my last job was far from a thrilling adventure” you huffed, amused. “No gems or exciting digs. Just backbreaking labour to mine some standard ore, and help a research team dig up a newly discovered mineral.” “Angel, that sounds more than stimulating to me,” he said with a grin, stupid puppy dog eyes sparkling at you in hopes of a tale. “Tell me,” he urged excitedly, puppy dog eyes sparkling at you that you couldn’t resist. You sighed. “I don’t think I've ever been on a job so physically demanding. Nothing like the drops down to the Green. It was this huge team led by the researchers,” you explained, eyes cast down in thought as you tried to remember details. “It was… lonely,” you admitted casting your gaze down. “There was a potential for a pharmaceutical use for the mineral, it was difficult to collect, and fragile, so they hired big teams to collect as much as possible. Huge professional gig so everything was provided, and we got paid by the day as well as bonuses if we managed to collect more than the minimum requirement.” He whistled at that in awe. “Damn Angel, that sounds like that meant one hell of a payload when you were done then.” You hummed in agreement. “Yeah, not going to lie, it was a little boring compared to Aurelac harvesting, and difficult, but it was more than a decent pay,” you huffed in amusement before continuing. “The next one was basic, just, mining for ore. Standard kinda job, not one of the thrill seekers things either.” “We all get those kinds of jobs every now and then,” he nodded, leaning back and closing his eyes. You could imagine him reliving the memories of his former life behind those closed lids.  Playfully nudging his shoulder to get his attention, you grinned at him when he brought his wistful eyes to meet yours. “You’ll be back there, soon enough,” you encouraged. A sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I truly want that to happen, Angel,” he sighed, tearing his gaze away to stare off at the opposite wall. “I must confide that I have begun to fear my severed arm has proven to be far too arduous to deal with certain tasks. I have taught myself to become ambidextrous in my writing but there are things I have discovered are too… difficult to accomplish now that I am without part of myself.” You listened to his concern with an understanding smile before leaning against him, resting your cheek on his shoulder, looking up into his sorrowful eyes that were staring into the distance. “Do you remember when I told you it gets easier?” you asked, barely above a whisper, he glanced at you before nodding slightly, sighing as he did so. “I meant it,” you continued. “It will get easier Ezra, when you get a prosthetic, well then, the world better watch out.” You took his hand in both of yours, giving it an encouraging squeeze and smiling at him. “What if I can't?” he asked, brows furrowed in worry , giving away a hidden fear. “What if I do not bounce back? And I stay this broken shell of my former self?” You rolled your eyes, he was the dramatic sort sometimes. “Ezra, look at me,” you whispered as he tore his gaze away again, you cupped his face lightly to bring it back to you.  You weren't one to initiate physical affection from him, but his absence had made you crave it so much during your time apart, that you were willing to throw a little caution to the wind.   “You’re not some ‘shell’-” you started, cut off when huffed and rolled his own eyes, not agreeing with you. ”Hey now, I never knew you before this,” you gestured to his missing arm with one hand. ”I didn’t know Ezra before, I only know this Ezra." To underline that, you poked him in the chest with a single finger. "And I like this Ezra.” You playfully flicked his forehead afterwards, laughing as he pouted at you. “Don’t pout at me like that, mister,” you snickered as he rubbed his forehead. “Look, ok, I don't think you're this shell, in fact, I wish I could express just how amazing I think you are, Ezra,” you started again, shy smile on your face. “But I know how you’re feeling, I’ve been there too, remember? I’m just like you. So if you’re having any self deprecating thoughts because you’re an amputee, then I'm afraid I will have to take that as a personal offence, because if you’re less of a man for losing your arm, then by that logic, I’m less of a woman for losing my leg.” Raising your chin at him, you stared him in the eyes, challenge written in your face. He looked at you, aghast, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. “Angel, I would never think that way of you-” “Good, then you can’t think that way about yourself either. It’s not allowed,” you said sternly, not allowing him any room to argue. “You lost an arm, so what? It’s a part of your life now and you just have to deal with it.“  He queried his brow at you.  “I think I prefer your gentle consolations over this,” he mumbled, making you snort with laughter.  “Sometimes, it helps to have a dose of reality. Recovery is a long process and it can’t always be soft encouragement. Sometimes it’s better to give you a shove than to hold your hand,” you said, letting go of his hand to empathize the point. “I like when you hold my hand, Angel,” he whispered, hand reaching to take yours back but hesitated. “Makes me feel safer than I have felt in a long time,” he said, you weren't sure if he was talking metaphorically or not, but either way it made your stomach flip.   “Well,” you began, feeling a little flushed over his innocent little comment, voice pitched for a moment as you composed yourself. “You need a shove right now, but I hope me standing at the sidelines shouting that you can do it is a good enough substitute.”  “So long as you are there Angel, it's more than enough,” he smiled, resting his hand on your knee instead. The machines in front of you finally finished their cycles, bringing the two of you two back to reality. You smiled and patted his shoulder before getting up off the floor so you could remove the clothes from the machines.

You couldn’t remember being so happy since the last good day the two of you had spent together. He helped you hang up your clothes on a small drying frame in his apartment, he playfully waggled his eyebrows at you as he hung up your underwear, to which you were mortified and threw a wet sock at his smug face as he cracked up.

He had called in sick from work that morning, you later found out, so he could spend the whole day with you. You sat with him on his couch, chatting with him as if the two of you had never been separated. Cee returned home late afternoon, it warmed your heart to watch Ezra get up and greet her with a small hug and ask her about her day, offering her help with any homework she had. She said hi to you, a soft smile on her face as she made her way to her room to do her homework, refusing Ezras offer of help.

She emerged again close to dinner time, Ezra having ordered takeout to ‘celebrate’ your return. You were left alone together as Ezra went to collect your meals at the apartment gate. “It’s uh, really nice to see you again,” Cee said to fill in the slightly tense silence. The two of you never had a meaningful conversation with each other, accepting that the other just came with having Ezra in your life. “It’s nice to see you again too,” you said truthfully, giving her a soft smile. She shook her head, “no, i mean, yeah. It is nice to see you but I meant, I’m happy your back. Da- Ezra has been kinda mopey, since he last saw you. He’s happy again, is what I was trying to say. He’s missed you.” “I’ve missed him too,” you said, charmed that she cared so much for her adoptive father's happiness. “He hasn’t shut up about you you know?” she said rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly as she revealed something Ezra probably wouldn’t want her telling you. “He kept asking me what he could have done differently, or wondering what you were up to, he was really worried about you, not knowing where you were.” You felt a pang of guilt hit your chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt him Cee, I hope you know that.” “Yeah, I do,” she sighed. “ I wasn’t happy to see him so upset, but no one was angry at you. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now, he’s happy now and you’re back together again.” “Together?” you balked. “W-we’re not together, just… friends. That’s all we are, friends,” you clarified feeling flustered and your face heating up. Cee snorted. “You’re just like him I swear-” she laughed , shaking her head as the front door opened and Ezra returned, brown paper bag in hand, declaring dinner was served with a cheerful tone. You didn’t have a chance to ask Cee what she meant, distracting yourself from your slightly flustered mind by helping Ezra serve and carry everything over to the couch where the two of you sat. Cee sitting adjacent from you on the floor, a content smile on her face as she watched Ezra happily chat with you while the three of you ate your meals.

TAG LIST @oloreaa​ @chaotic-noceur

[julemmaes]

My saviour

“I’m the kid who never pays attention in class and you’re the one who always gives me the answer when the teacher calls on me” AU

A Matthew Fairchild and Lucie Herondale Modern Day School AU

Okay this is the very first time I write something like this, but I really enjoyed writing it, so if you’d like to read more (because for some insane reasons you liked my writing) let me know and feel free to send me a ship and a prompt. It could be anything from shadowhunters to acotar to tog.

If you find any mistakes in the language PLEASE LET ME KNOW, because as you can say from my bio, English is not my first language and I’d really appreciate constructive criticism.

That’s all, now go enjoy Matthew being a dork:)

Word count: 2,994

“Mr Fairchild? Perhaps you would like to be escorted to Miss Fray’s classroom? Perhaps you would draw in a more comfortable position.”

Matthew’s head snapped at the name of his favorite art teacher. He sat up straight, realizing that the gaze of twenty boys was fixed on him. He smiled at the teacher, putting the pencil on the desk and shrugging, “No Miss Wrayburn. I was listening, I am so interested in your lectures that sometimes I get lost in historical stories and I like to illustrate them.” He ended with a sly smile, resting his chin on his hands. Miss Wrayburn, noted for her severity as a history teacher, smiled in return, placing her book on the chair and crossing her arms on the chest.

“So if I asked you what happened between June 19th and 20th, 1944 in the Pacific you would be able to answer me?” She asked her and smiled at him with the same sarcasm. Matthew began to sweat: he had already brought home two very bad grades that week, if he brought a third one, his mother Charlotte would surely have sent him to a private school, and it would have been a suicide. Think Math, think. 1944, World War II, Japan, Roosevelt. His thoughts were interrupted by the small voice of the girl beside him, “The Battle of the Philippine Sea”, whispered with one hand in front of her mouth to avoid being seen by the teacher. Matthew stilled on the chair, before coughing and repeating what his classmate had just suggested. Wrayburn seemed surprised and tilting her head asked him one more question, but he had completely lost the thread.

The girl who sat next to him was beautiful. A stunning beauty. The locks of dark brown hair fell on her shoulders like waves and surrounded her delicate white face. The eyes of a pale blue were moving frantically, looking first at him and then at the blackboard, where the teacher was writing three important events of the war between the USA and Japan. He collected himself, looking again at the girl, before the teacher called him one more time, asking him to put into chronological order the battles she just wrote down. He answered quietly with the help of the girl and when Wrayburn considered it sufficient enough not to put a bad grade, going back to explain to the class, Matthew could finally bask in the beauty sitting next to him.

Her writing was so delicate and at the same time… ferocious. Yes, he was going to describe it as ferocious, as if writing were something that she did very often and gladly. Plus, she seemed to be writing down everything the teacher said, without missing a single thing. He wanted to introduce himself, but he didn’t know how to do it without disturbing her. Because she looked like the kind of student who would bite your head off if she lost the theacher’s train of thoughts.

He looked around again for the answer, as if looking at the door or at thewindow, the idea would appear in front of him. And that’s exaclty what happened.

He took a blank piece of paper and started scribbling something. The design took shape and a golden retriver appeared (which tremendously reminded Matthew of Mr Oscar Wilde, his dog) with a blonde hair like his and a sparkling green leash. Satisfied with his work he made a small cartoon over the dog that said “Pleased to meet you, I’m Matthew, but you can call me Math. Thanks for the rescue, could you help me with one last question I absolutely need to know the answer to cause my school career could be at risk if I don’t?”

He moved slightly away from the desk to see the final result and nodded smugly, bent the paper in two, before sliding it slowly towards the girl’s desk. As expected, she did not pay him much attention before the ringing of the bell and even after, as she collected all her things and put them quickly in the bag, she didn’t notice the drawing, putting it together with the rest of her notes. Matthew was about to walk to her and ask her what her name was in person, but as soon as he got up, he found himself in front of Thomas Lightwood, his lifelong best friend and the kindest person he knew. He passed him without ceremony to see if the girl was always in the class, but by now the only ones left were the two of them and the students of the next class were already entering and sitting at the desks.

He snorted taking his stuff and starting to walk next to Tom, headed to the science lab. An nudge from his friend made him turn his head in his direction, eyebrow raised as a question.

“Don’t make that face, you haven’t lost her. She’s with us in science. Has been for years actually.” he said putting his arm around him. Thomas was almost twenty centimeters taller than him, he was close to two meters, and he was huge. Last summer, he had put on more muscle mass than he liked to admit, and it had gotten even bigger.

“I wasn’t thinking I lost her, I just wanted to know her name. She saved my ass earlier, I could always buy her a coffee, you know, to thank her.” He reached his locker, trying to end the conversation, but Thomas didn’t feel the same way, “Sure, and Kit doesn’t blow up his house at least three times a week”; he giggled at his own joke before bringing a hand to scratch his neck. “Although, I have to be honest, I’d like to see you on a date with Jesse Blackthorn’s girlfriend.”

Matthew snorted posing the never-used book of history, and taking the unharmed one of science. Obviously she had a boyfriend. And of course it had to be Jesse fucking Blackthorn. Turning to Tom with a whipped dog face, he asked him if he was joking.

“Oh no, not at all. They’ve been together for a while, but like, just two years, and the fact that you don’t know they’re together is worrying. The whole school knows this.” he answered him as soon as they arrived at Thomas' locker, where the same ritual was repeated for the billionth time.

“I have to remind you that I don’t really give a shit about the people who are in this building or do I have to connect the dots for you?” Math asked leaning against the wall again. He was dead tired and they were only at the second hour. Thinking he was gonna stay in that place till four o'clock got his stomach twisted.

Thomas laughed and the conversation ended there. They saw Christopher outside the chemistry labs, tinkering with giant tomes and test tubes, while Mr Fairchild, Matthew’s father, tried to help him as much as he could without dropping anything. They didn’t have the time to get close enough that from inside the classroom someone was shouting and they both rushed to rescue anyone who had made two wrong substances react.

Tom and Math entered the biology classroom, taking place in the second-to-last row. A few minutes later the girl of history class entered. She sat down at the desk behind Matthew’s, who was about to turn around when the teacher came in, blocking his every initiative. The lesson began immediately and the boy could hear her pen running fast on the paper. He took out the necessary to draw and got lost in his world again and again and again. Until Tom hit him on the arm and he turned to his friend, asking what the hell he wanted.

“What the hell do I want? Well, Mr Fairchild, if you answer this question correctly, I might consider not failing you at my subject.” He couldn’t believe it. Not again. Matthew turned slowly to the teacher, reducing his lips to a thin line, waiting for the question that would end his life.

“If the function of ribosomes is selectively blocked in a cell, what do you immediately stop, Mr Fairchild?” Professor fade asked severely. He was ready to say that no one in that cabbage class would know the answer, but the voice of his guardian angel was as clear as light behind his back, “The translation.”

“The translation, professor.”

“Translation of what, Matthew?”

“Of RNA,”; she told him, once more.

“Of RNA, sir.” he nodded, seemed convinced of what he was saying, and sighed with relief when the lesson resumed undisturbed. He turned slightly, smiling at the girl from above his shoulder. She was staring at him and in her left hand, reaching out to him, she was holding a folded piece of paper. He took it without the teacher noticing and opened it discreetly. In the corner of his eye he saw Thomas trying to spy on what was written on the paper.

When he saw it was his drawing, his chest swelled. Next to her dog there now was a little blue bird, with her wings folded on her hips, so she looked angry. It wasn’t as pretty as his dog, and it looked like it had been drawn in a hurry, but it was very cute, and above it the inscription “What, do I have to save you again?” was clear in her perfect handwriting.

He had to refrain from laughing, because the drawing was most likely done right after the history lesson, so this would be the third time that Matthew needed to be saved.

He started drawing again, this time making a kitten trying to catch the bird from below, with the phrase “Don’t worry, this is quite simple. What’s your name?” He could have easily asked Thomas and he would have answered him in less than a second. When he put his arm back and felt that the paper was being taken from his hand, he smiled, beginning to mind his own business once again. Only when the bell announcing the end of classes rang did he realize that the only color he had used during that time was blue.

“My name is Lucie, Lucie Herondale. But you can call me Luce.” He saw a thin, pale hand appear in his field of vision, and he almost jumped out of the chair. He raised his head and shook her hand. He smiled in the only way he knew, with his dazzling charm, and when he spoke, the voice came out like a shrill sound, “I am-” he coughed several times, while Lucie giggled and there, behind her, was Thomas, eyes wide open, holding a hand to his mouth to avoid bursting into laughter, “You’re Matthew, yeah, I already know.” she smiled at him.

“Yeah, yeah. The dog. It’s mine. I thought it’d be cute and wanted to thank you for all these rescues. My mother would kill me if she found out that I didn’t study anything and I-” he was interrupted by the voice of someone who had just appeared on the classroom door. A boy as tall as him, with black hair and the eyes of a spooky, pungent green, was extending his hand toward her, while with the other one he was balancing himself on the door, “Lulu let’s go, Jamie and Grace are waiting for us in front of your locker.” He looked away from her to Matthew and vice versa a couple of times before smiling shily at the two boys.

Lucie turned to Jesse Blackthorn and with a movement of her head made him understand that she would be there in a minute.

“Of course, there’s no problem. I’d rather help people than see them fail.” she said turning to Math again, “See you in class, I guess.” She smiled at him one last time and, putting her hands in her pockets, went out, following her boyfriend into the crowded hallway.

Matthew remained with his waving hand raised in the air until Thomas' laugh awoke him from his trance. He looked at his friend, pushed him sideways to pass him, and unceremoniously he told him to fuck off.

“C’mon Math. It was ridiculous. Pathetic. Humiliating. I can laugh sometimes, right?”

“Why? With me you don’t laugh enough?” Christopher asked by appearing at Thomas' side out of nowhere.

“Jesus Kit, where did you come from?” said Thomas bringing a hand to his chest.

“From the chemistry lab, of course. By the way, Math,” he said addressing the blond one, “your father wanted to know if you’d eat at home tonight and I told him we were going out. Cause we do go, right? It is Friday and tomorrow mom and dad won’t be here, so I can go back anytime I want tonight.” Thomas was already nodding, starting to think in his little head the worst ways to risk their lives. Matthew was trying so hard not to think about Lucie Herondale, and that kept him from not being able to do so.

What an idiot he was. And that sound? Where did that voice come from? He was sure she was telling her perfect boyfriend right now how this dumb classmate who didn’t know shit had trouble controlling his fucking vocal cords.

“What’s going on in that empty head of yours?” Anna Lightwood. Thomas' cousin and Christopher’s sister, but also Matthew’s faithful friend, was dressed exactly like him that day, which made her pout, “Classy. But I have to say that they look better on me.” she smiled widely, taking him and Kit arm in arm, and heading for the next lesson.

Luckily, Matthew thought, we all have art together. That was his hour of leisure, even though he normally did nothing different, but at least he would get compliments from Miss Fray, or how he called her, Clary. He had met his art teacher outside the school, in fact it was he who had told her that their old teacher would retire and that there was a vacant chair. They had become close friends during a painting course and when he met her at school he had felt nothing but immense happiness.

“Our Matthew impressed some cute girl today.” said Thomas in the tone of someone who’s been around. Anna suddenly stopped in the hallway, staring at him with gaping mouth.

“And let’s hear, who would be the lucky one?” she asked, again walking. Christopher seemed interested, too, but not as much as his sister, who looked like a child on Christmas morning.

“Nobody.” answered Matthew at the same time as Thomas said, “Lucie Herondale.”

“Are you kidding? But you know he’s with Blackthorn, right?” She asked him in astonishment, as she glared him, as if he were the only fool in the world who did not know which couples were in this stupid school.

“Yes I know, and I didn’t impress, we just talked because she saved my ass a couple of times.”

They continued to speak even after entering the art lab and even during the lesson. Matthew was surprised when he noticed that the teacher pretended not to listen when she passed by them, but that she tended her ear to eavesdrop better.

The next lesson would be that of literature, without any of his friends, and thinking of having to spend a whole hour without Tom or Kit made him feel sick, but maybe today he could do it. A rest hour after all the comments and jokes Thomas made would have done him good.

He sat at the usual place and with a pleasant surprise noticed that on the other side of the class was Lucie. She was chatting with a redheaded girl who had little dark skin. Matthew remembered she was one of the newcomers and that she had a particular name, Carla… Carlotta perhaps. Consuela.

He began to stare at his hands with a thoughtful glare.

How was it possible that in all those years he had never noticed her? How was it possible that they had so many classes in common that they never spoke? He looked up once more to look at her and noticed that she had moved into the desk next to his and her friend sat right in front of her. He greeted them both with a broad smile.

“Hey Math, this is Cordelia. She’s from Paris. Cordelia, this is Matthew.” He smiled at him and Matthew’s world was once again a little happier.

“I’m actually from London, but I’ve been living in Paris for the last five years.” Cordelia explained before paying attention to Miss Loss, who had just entered. A strange fellow, Catarina Loss.

She had the skin of a cadaveric white, and the hair was of a sky blue so bright that sometimes Matthew would get lost staring at them by how much it was intense.

He heard a comment from Lucie about his memory-loss episodes and laughed silently, starting to scribble on the desk.

Twenty minutes passed before the obvious happened, “Fairchild, who wrote Songs of Innocence and Experience?” They can’t be serious, Matthew looked briefly in Lucie’s direction and she giggled before miming with her lips Wlliam Blake. Matthew almost laughed when he began to speak, but after that the teacher immediately left him alone. Cordelia also seemed amused, because she looked at him from above her shoulder smiling and returning to the reading shortly after.

He stared at Lucie, and thought that if anyone saw him they would think he was a pervert, because she turned to him, probably due to the intensity with which he was looking at her, and smiled at him.

Perhaps, to surprise her, he would start studying, so the responsibility would not fall on her alone, but in that moment, Matthew thought, it was enough to have his saviour by his side and everything would be fine.

Please leave a comment, even if you didn't like it, cause it would mean the world to me

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Superstar

Also on AO3

For one quote/ one shot to be posted Oct 21st, my quote below; “Listen,” he said at last, softly. “Do you hear?” At first I heard nothing but the rushing of the wind, and the trickle of rain, dripping through the holes of the roof. Then I heard it, the steady, slow thump of his heartbeat, pulsing against me, and mine against his, each matching each, in the rhythm of life.” My thanks to @notevenjoking and @balfehueghlywed for organizing this one shot, I hope you like it.

Jamie walked through the house in silence. His sneakers touching the marble floor like a caress as he approached the front door with great anticipation. When the knob turned the massive front door opened with a quiet whoosh and closed with a respectful silence he promised to abide when he arrived from Scotland five months ago. The woman who owned the house and agreed to sponsor his junior year had one unbreakable rule, do not wake her in the morning. When the door was closed, Jamie’s smile could be seen in the next county. His forward flip off the top step was fueled by his exceptional muscle density, tender age of seventeen, buckets of testosterone, and pure joy. It was time to go bask to school.

Miss Abby was many things, a best selling author, sixty years a single woman, kind and interested in Jamie’s life and an exceptional cook. She provided a list of chores each week with a monetary value next to each. If Jamie needed money he could finish any or all of the chores and make enough to sustain his teenage life. Jamie would put a checkmark next to two or three of the chores and do the rest of the list without a mention. Miss Abby showed her gratitude with huge sumptuous meals that her athletic border consumed with gusto. At ten o’clock every night Miss Abby locked her study doors and worked all night.

Jamie jumped into his VW bug and shot toward school, his friends, his girlfriend, and the legendary coach John DiBiaso. It was the reason he was here playing for Catholic Memorial. Scouted as a sophomore in Scotland, he was doing his junior and senior year in Boston. He would be offered a full scholarship from any number of schools and then go pro. No one doubted it. He was that good.

Jamie was passing out smiles to all that wanted one today as he made his way into the building to drop his load of books. His friends gathered around him, joking and lying about getting laid over the holiday and telling stories about how drunk they got at this party or that. Jamie joked right back until his attention was pulled away by wild black curls, crazy gorgeous eyes, and a caboose that made his knees feel weak.

“Hey, who’s that girl?”

“Ye mean miss world-class ass or the other one?”

“Yer an idiot Sean, see you guys at practice.”

The day took control of his brain and the curly lass was forgotten. When a slim body dropped into a seat next to him at lunch he felt his body respond like a starving man.

“Where ye been lass? Been lookin for ye all morning. If ye don’t give me yer hot kisses soon I may die right here in this chair.”

Jamie leaned toward Geneva tickling her ear with his breath, making her squirm and run a hand down her hair to smooth anything he disrupted. She looked straight ahead as if he wasn’t there. Come lass, now.” Jamie dragged Geneva to the bleachers where they could kiss unobserved and he could grind into something she would never give. He walked into fifth period holding his jacket in front of him.

Claire was an even mixture of stark terror and excitement over going to a real school. She never anticipated so many students her age crammed into one building. No matter which hall she took it felt like she was fighting a wall of people who didn’t seem to notice her. By third period, she was exhausted. “Damn uncle Lamb, I told you Everest was a better school, certainly less crowded for Christ's sake.”

The only redeeming feature of this school was that giant boy in the hall this morning. He smiled at her and she shot down the hall feeling a bit dizzy. Five minutes later she met the second redeeming feature.

“Hey, luscious!” The boy leaned into Claire like he wanted to eat her, causing her to flinch and try to get away. Out of the crowd came a head of strawberry blond hair and a fist to the young man’s chest that stunned him long enough to get away. The girl grabbed Claire’s sleeve and pulled her out a side door.

Once outside, Claire turned her face to the sun, filled her lungs with fresh air, and opened her eyes to sparkling emeralds and a smiling face.

“I’m Geillis and you are a strange one aren’t ye.”

“What?”

When the bell rang Claire lurched forward apologizing to her new friend that she was late for testing. Claire launched herself back into the throng of students only to crash into an unexpected wall, hitting her head and bouncing backward. Warm hands caught her mid-flight.

“What the bloody hell…!” Her hand flew to her head as she looked up at a face that sucked the air out of her lungs and completely rebuilt her life goals in under a second.

“This collision is entirely yer fault lass, but yer British, so yer forgiven… Sassenach. Tell me yer name and I will pretend it never happened.” He smiled down at her and she saw the humor in his Hollywood handsome face. Claire struggled to regain her composure and remember what launched her into the hall in the first place. Still rubbing her head she looked up at his face again looking confused.

“I need to find the office sir can you point the right direction?”

“Sir? For that slip of the pretty tongue, ye get my company all the way there. Come, I will show ye.”

He grabbed her hand in the crowd of people and let it go when the hallway became passable. “Here is the office lass. Now, when ye see me next I expect a hi Jamie for my troubles.” He turned on his heel and jogged down the hall until he disappeared.

“Miss Beauchamp! We are delighted to have you here this semester. I know Lamb from college and promised to test you into the right school and grade. Shall we begin?” The guidance counselor looked down at the girl hoping this would not drag on all day. He was anxious to pawn her off on a lesser school where academic achievement was not expected or encouraged. He placed a test booklet in front of her with an answer sheet and a number two pencil. He wished her luck and quietly backed out the door. His first few strides felt like a temporary stay of execution by boredom. Too many parents and guardians had exaggerated the superior intellect of their children, and charges, over the years when the truth was an unremarkable, mediocre student who would never aspire to anything above the median. This girl spent the last five years in a remote location in Egypt, without running water or plumbing, and no schooling. That alone made her remarkable, as an oddity, but certainly not an academic superstar, which is the only interest he had in humans under thirty years old.

The heavy door to his office clicked shut and he exhaled his relief at being alone. He sat down and put his feet up wondering what he would order in for dinner tonight. Sometime later a sharp knock brought the counselor jerking awake from his nap. He pulled the door open to receive an answer sheet from his secretary. He looked at the clock and thought, impossible. When he looked down at the scores his face fell off, the jowls went slack, the mouth opened with a hanging lower lip, and he balled the sheet up and threw it in the trash.

“She obviously cheated, although I can’t imagine how. Oh, who cares, assign her to Park West and call them to expect a student tomorrow. What the devil is wrong with you?”

His secretary was anticipating a three-alarm academic emergency grab for this gifted student, instead, he dispatched her to a remedial high school where her brilliant mind would be stomped to death by a staff of teenage baby sitters who wouldn’t know gifted intellect if it slapped them across the face.

“No problem boss. I’ll take care of it.”

The door slammed behind her as the counselor went back to his nap.

June Dawe sat at her desk ruminating over the options of doing what’s right and risking her job or turning off her life force so she can do what she is told and be safe. Fortunately for Claire, June still had a passion for education and every student within these walls. She dialed each of the gifted teachers finding four who could meet with Claire right now.

“Claire, dear, come with me. We have a meeting on the second floor with your new teachers. Don’t be nervous child, the hard part is over. I believe your teachers will be very interested in helping you.

Jamie was on the field stunning his teammates with the deadly accuracy of his arm. He gave it all in practice just like his father taught him and the coach was blown away. Christian Memorial won the state championship this year and coach DiBiaso would bet a year’s salary it was in the bag for next year as well, as long as Jamie Fraser was playing. A whistle toot sent everyone running for the warmth of the locker room.

Jamie’s curls were still wet from the shower when he dropped into his car and zoomed toward home. It was getting dark but he saw an unmistakable silhouette ahead. A crazy mass of curls and an ass the angels only dreamed of. He jerked the VW to the side of the road and called out to the girl waiting in the bus line.

Claire smiled and waved, making Jamie feel weird suddenly. What was this then? He was completely baffled by her response, or lack thereof. That half-hearted wave was meant for a cousin or a neighbor. Jaime got out and gently pulled her from the line.

“Come Sassenach, I’m drivin ye home.”

“I like the bus, but thank you.”

He listened to her voice and heard sincerely. This was no female trick like Geneva was famous for. That little snip of a person was responding with honesty and complete lack of interest in him. Hold up, his mind was screaming. Never happened before, ever! He watched her shivering in the cold of the Boston night. He was intrigued and approached her again.

“May I speak with ye for a moment Sassenach?”

She looked at him like he lost his mind but she stepped out of line and walked over to him. “What?”

“Could I impose on ye lass, for yer company? I like the way ye talk and I’m missin my family tonight. Would ye talk to me while I drive ye home, please?”

Claire watched his eyes sparkle under the street light and felt a tractor beam pulling her toward him. He opened the car door for her and she breathed in his masculine scent and watched him fall into his seat. There was an awkward silence between them as each questioned what they were doing in this car together on this frigid night.

Jamie pulled over and looked down the block of historic brownstones. “Which is yer house Sassenach?”

“I will point to it if you tell me what Sassenach means.”

“It means outsider lass. Because of yer accent. And yer house?”

“Why is it so important to know which is my house?”

“So I know where to pick ye up in the morning for school.”

“Right here is fine, thank you. I really hate that bus.” Claire jumped out of the car and walked swiftly down the block, cutting across someone’s front lawn like she owned it. Hearing the car pull away she returned to the sidewalk and continued to her front door.

Miss Abby sat across from Jamie, enjoying his pleasure over her meal. She noticed a small flare in his eyes indicating conscious thought every few minutes. A bad test grade maybe, a fight at school, bad practice, the possibilities were endless. She had faith that Jamie would figure it out…what ever it was.

Claire could not remember ever being this exhausted. She had tested all afternoon and the questions got more bizarre and complex until she was finally released. Her bloodshot eyes watched the four teachers as they huddled over her answer sheet stealing glances at each other and then her. They seemed very happy when they let her leave asking her to join them again tomorrow morning. Claire ran in the crisp late afternoon air, just needing space and solitude. She fell in line at the bus stop and was lost in her memory of the afternoon. Until she heard the burr of the cutest boy she had ever seen.

The teachers encouraged her to choose a topic she found interesting and design a unique study that could be presented at the international science of the future competition. They promised it would be a boost to her studies, ivy league invitations, scholarships, and notoriety to make friends at school. She laid on her bed with a scrubbed face letting her mind wander. She saw an arm and a torso in movement as a ball was lifted and thrown. She saw the angles rush in and equations for mass and energy and distance. Her heartbeat jumped 30 beats per minute and she smiled in the dark. She had her hypothesis, experiment, measurement, testing and eventual modification of her hypothesis. She needed a test subject that was good enough to study.

Claire sat up and turned her desk light on so she could write her ideas down before she forgot them. She needed to study something other people wanted to know, whatever that was. She was still working on her study outline the next day when Geillis invaded her space and mind during lunch. Claire was fascinated by the backstories on all the popular kids, mostly from rich families or athletes.

“The transplants do pretty well too.” She noticed Claire’s eyebrows go up. “Transplants are kids in the exchange program that come from other countries. Catholic Memorial recruits gifted students from all over the world. Guess there’s a shortage of home-grown jocks and scholars. Like them,” Geillis nodded to the side where Jamie and Geneva were flirting with each other. “Those two are transplants from Scotland and on the top of the food chain at this school. Geneva is academics and Jamie is, well you know.”

“No! I don’t know. What is he?”

Geillis smiled indulgently at Claire, “Jamie Fraser is our star quarterback. I thought you knew him the way you face-planted his chest yesterday in the hall and then walked away with him.”

Claire was staring at the couple with their heads close together, giggling and kissing. “No, I don’t know anything about him. But he did drive me home and pick me up for school today.”

“Well, I’m anxious to hear all about it,” Geillis’s eyes twinkled wickedly and she scooted closer to Claire.

Claire was given her schedule of classes and struggled to find the new rooms hidden by the throngs of bodies crushed into the halls between classes. She was happy they were a grade higher than her original schedule. At least she wouldn’t be bored.

She found her homeroom, full of long desks with clumps students scattered around. She sat alone and pulled out her study outline. She didn’t like this room and felt like people were watching her. She tried to ignore it and get some work done. When the bell rang Claire’s head jerked up at the clock. Throwing books into her backpack she ran around the corner to the door and there he was. Jamie was talking with a group of guys and he opened the door so she could zoom past.

A fly on the wall could tell the world that Jamie was being raked over the coals and severely punished by his girlfriend Geneva who wanted the rides to school with “the little twit” to stop, permanently. The show of affection in the lunchroom was Geneva’s perfectionism, not showing weakness to the world. Jamie was just happy the fighting was over and realized his mistake when he pulled her outside for serious kissing.

“Get your filthy hands off of me, ye whore.”

“So it’s a whore I am now.”

“Stop giving that idiot rides to school where ye park and people can see ye both get out. If you insist on being a bleeding heart ye can give her a ride home if she gets picked up at least three blocks from the school.”

“Will there be anythin else, Geneva?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “no, that’s all.” Geneva turned around and left Jamie standing outside. He watched her smile and wave at someone and realized she was hellbent on looking perfect 24/7 no matter the cost.

Jamie sat in the bleachers and the cool afternoon made him feel more like himself. He thought about Geneva, the prettiest girl in the world he decided when he first got to this school. The fact she came from Scotland and would return home for the summer was a bonus. He decided she was perfect but she wouldn’t give him the time of day at first. After his first game, she was all flirty smiles and agreed to a date, they hit it off. She was here because of her academic achievement and Jamie had a snapshot in his head of the two of them, he in a Greenbay uniform next to Geneva in a white lab coat. He knew she was fading in the picture and he forced himself to look at it. He didn’t like the girl she was today but decided to cool it a bit before breaking it off with her. Maybe she’ll come around.

Claire pushed the door open and saw Jamie’s VW waiting against the curb. He leaned over and popped the door for her.

“Here.”

“What’s that for?”

“I am paying my share of gas and happy to do it because I hate that bus.” He said no three times and finally pointed at the glove box. Claire was happy he let her do her part and her effervescence came bubbling up as she talked about her study outline.

“My friend said you play football, is that true?”

Jamie’s head looked sideways at an innocent face asking a serious question.

“Yea.”

“I got approval for my study outline so it’s time to find my subject. I know it’s a lot to ask but I hoped you could introduce me to some of the top players. I only need one person but I anticipate a lot of no’s. So, could you, please?”

Jamie stared at her through the red traffic light and left turn arrows waiting for the joke that didn’t come.

“What sport does this test subject have to play?”

“Football.”

Jamie’s head was starting to hurt, “I’ll see what I can do.”

His little friend Claire was a walking contradiction, at least to his limited exposure to girls. Did she even realize who he was, what he meant to the team and school? He was out of sorts from the weird day with Geneva, and no football until next year. He needed some aspirin and a list of chores.

Claire was doing homework in the kitchen and ran for her ringing phone.

“Hello, a…Claire. My name is Geneva Dunsany. I am calling about my boyfriend Jamie Fraser and the fight you caused between us today. It isn’t right to accept a ride to school with someone else’s boyfriend. Ye may look like a twelve-year-old boy but it doesn’t look good coming to school with my boyfriend. Hello! That bitch hung up on me…click.”

Claire stared at the phone and wondered if her crush on Jamie was noticeable. Her face turned bright red with embarrassment and she threw her phone in her purse. The next morning she taped a piece of cardboard to the streetlight with a note to Jamie.

I can’t ride with you anymore so I’m on the hateful bus. You are very nice, Geneva is a bitch. See ya superstar.

Jamie was livid at Geneva’s audacity. This was not going to fly. Thanks for making this easy for me, Geneva. Wait…did the Sassenach call me superstar? He swung a U-turn and went back to grab the sign before heading to school.

Geillis was bent at the waist, laughing uncontrollably at what Claire had done. “I knew there was a reason I liked you so much. Shit, that’s the bell, we’re going to be late.” The two of them ran to their classes where Claire could grieve the second-biggest loss of her life. At least that is what it felt like today.

The rumor that Jamie broke up with Geneva went around the school like wildfire. Jamie tried to talk to Claire several times but she would smile politely and move along.

The life seemed to go out of Claire. She requested a postponement of her project until next year and applied to test out of junior year so she could get this stupid school behind her. Uncle Lam had prepared her academically but did squat about teaching her to guard her heart.

She had gained a position in a social group at school and many of her friends were leaving for the summer. Somewhere during the hug-fest she looked up at the bluest eyes on the planet and felt her heart slip into her throat. They stared at each other and Claire waved and smiled at him. Jamie held his phone up and snapped her picture. Looking back at her he saw the tear roll down her cheek.

“My God lass, what’s happened to ye,” he said quietly. “Claire!” Jamie sprinted toward her but her bestie Geillis saw her pain and pulled her out a side door and straight to her car.

Jamie had one last stop to make before parking his car in storage for the summer and flying home. He pulled Claire’s cardboard note out of the trunk and penned a note, taping it to the streetlight.

“See ye in three months Sassenach. I told the bus driver yer a terrorist so it looks like ye will be comin with me next year.”

Geillis handed Claire the note and watched the emotion play out in her eyes. It was time to find the beautiful swan in her friend and let the doting boys at the clubs and beach do the rest.

Miss Abby’s new book was published over the summer and number one on the bestseller list. She was scheduled for book signings and interviews for the next six months but that did not stop her from waving to Jamie when she spotted him at the airport.

Jesus Christ Jamie, you got better looking over the summer, didn’t think that was possible.

“How was football camp?”

“It was great.”

“Have you still got your arm?”

“Yes.”

“Did you hear there’s a new man in my life?”

“Really?”

“No.”

When Jamie got up the next morning Miss Abby was off on an eight-week signing tour and he still walked down the marble floor silently.

He was so excited to see Claire and hear about her summer. He pulled the VW to the side of the road and gorged on a pretty girl with long silky black hair talking with a robed man holding a newspaper. Jamie admired her hair and curves while watching for Claire. A breeze slipped under her hair letting it dance around her face as she turned around with familiar golden eyes. His mouth dropped open, eyes big as saucers, then she smiled at him. Jamie jumped out of the car and hugged her. All he could do is stare at her and shake his head.

“Ye grew up over the summer, did ye nae.” He could not help himself so he blatantly studied her from head to toe making her giggle. She was stunning, centered, and comfortable in her gorgeous skin. Before he could stop himself he touched her cheek. Yer skin is like a pearl Sassenach, it glows. She smiled at him with warmth in her eyes.

“I’m glad my friend is back. I really hate that bus.”

They walked toward the school and Jamie stole glances whenever her head was turned. “Sassenach, can we go to dinner or coffee tonight. I really want to catch up and hear about yer summer.”

“I would love to! Soon. I have a prelaunch meeting tonight.”

“It’s the only night I don’t have practice,” he sounded disappointed.

“Maybe we can do it next Monday.” Her smile dazzled him, her curves made him weak and he was astounded by the size of her breasts. He wanted to run his finger…

“See ya superstar”

Jamie wanted her to stay so he could finish his examination of her body changes. When she walked away he got an eyeful of her round ass. That works too, he thought.

Football made Jamie’s world circular. His star was on the rise, pretty girls were always around him hoping to be noticed, handshakes from teachers, and reporters flocked to him after every game. Claire watched him from a distance, cut out every article about him, and felt every heartbeat was for him alone. He was her kryptonite and the only time of day that mattered was the fifteen-minute ride to school.

Claire was putting the finishing touches on the equipment she would use in the kinesiology lab. The video guys that signed on to work with her were testing their camera angles and making changes she requested.

Claire opened the door to let the first subject in and saw Jamie leaning against the wall. She smiled,“what are you doing here?”

Ye asked me for an introduction to the best football players that might be test subjects. I searched high and low but there’s no one better than me. I have proof…see?” He held a torn out article from the paper “Best High School Quarterback In The Country.” The other blokes willna be comin. Just me. I changed my homeroom to work with ye. Are ye ready lass.”

Claire was smiling for several reasons. He was hands-down, the best possible test subject, he would honor his commitment to the study, and she gained an hour each day with him. She was thrilled.

A month later Geillis leaned her back against the lockers and read the article about Claire winning entrance to the science competition. There was a picture of Jamie mock throwing the football and about one hundred wires attached to his arm, the video guys behind two cameras and Claire recording data on her clipboard.

“Wow, you guys are really crammed in there and it looks uncomfortable. How did you get Jamie to agree to this?”

“He volunteered after he told the other guys not to come.”

Geillis didn’t pay attention to much unless it hit her on the head. She had a minute and a half to think about it before the next cute boy pinched her, or pulled on her hair. Claire ran a comb through her hair and slammed her locker.

“Why don’t I get attention like that?”

Geillis folded the paper back on the picture and watched Claire’s face look confused. She continued folding until only Jamie’s face was seen. Claire’s gaze went from the picture to Geillis’s eyes. “Why are you always so cryptic Geillis?”

Claire shook her head and walked to her next class. Geillis stood staring after her wondering what could make the big-man-on-campus volunteer so much time?

Jamie’s tension was mounting as playoffs grew near. He was aware of the scouts and recruiters in the stands for every game, multiple videos capturing every single move, good or bad. He wanted more than anything to win the championship again for the coach, his father, Miss Abby, and every single person who had cleared the way for him.

Jamie looked for Claire who was never hard to find due to all her equipment and team buzzing around her. She was behind a camera with a huge protruding lens. He looked directly into it and for a full minute, he let his face tell her how much he needed her now.

Claire saw Jamie’s eyes like he was right in front of her. She felt him reach across the field and touch her cheek. Hot tears pressed into her eyes and she blinked hard to clear them. Then he moved out of frame and she stood up as he ran back to the line. She wiped her face quickly and took some deep breaths before getting back to her work.

After spending so much time together this past semester he had become her dearest friend as well as her secret love interest. On warm days, she would meet him on the field after practice and they would talk about their families. Claire could picture Scotland so clearly in her mind when Jamie talked about his home. Most times he made her laugh but sometimes she felt his deep yearning for his family, his isolation from the seat of his heart. When she told him about her parent's death and being raised by Lam in Egypt, he was silent until she finished. He pulled her to her feet and gave her a hug that shot fireworks off in her brain and she clung to him.

It was a slow, steady climb to a trusting friendship, unencumbered by passion that often precludes a deep understanding of the other. They were the oddball couple/not a couple at school, protected from teasing and gossip by the unwavering respect that Jamie commanded. It was Claire’s pink bubble.

The game was close to a mercy-rule point difference where the coaches would end the torture. Coach DiBiaso called Jamie in to run a play that was complicated, and so far, only done in practice. If it worked, it would be a miracle. Jamie called the play in the huddle and then altered the position of two players knowing he would catch hell from the coach but seeing no alternative. Many worried eyes flicked at Jamie’s as they ran to formation. The play went perfectly and the game was called for their 48 point lead.

Jamie found Claire in the lab looking at the new video. “Are ye ready soon lass, should I wait?”

“Two things, I am done for the night. Second, I have one more test to run and then we’re finished with testing.” She smiled at him sincerely. I would be grateful for a lift home tonight. She packed up and shut the computers down, and flicked the lights off.

Jamie picked up her camera case and led the way to his car. “How do you manage to carry this heavy case to yer house Sassenach? Why won’t you let me know where ye live? I know every other detail about ye and it’s makin me feel hurt, right here.” He was joking but the truth was thinly veiled.

“Don’t be ridiculous Jamie, there are two feet of muscle in front of your heart so it can’t be hurt.”

He put his hand on the back of her neck, one of his favorite friendly touches that made Claire feel warm inside.

“This last test I have is an hour and a half so we have to do it after school. Just let me know the best day with your busy schedule.” She looked up at him, “it will be weird not seeing you every day after that. It has been fun and the data is better than I could ever have imagined. Thank you, Jamie.”

“Yer welcome lass. I know it will help football in some way, and you, so it was an honor. Which driveway might I pull in?”

Claire looked up nonchalantly like this was an everyday occurrence, “three houses on the left.”

Claire said her usual see ya tomorrow and piled out of the car, lugging her case up the steps of her brownstone. He felt so close to her sometimes but…he didn’t know what he was feeling lately. If she would just give him a sign she wanted more it would be so easy, he thought. But she never did.

Jamie had hundreds of colored wires stuck to his shoulder and arm as he completed the last test.

“I only need ten more minutes of your time superstar. Shirt off please.” Claire was clinical and no-nonsense as she grabbed a container of white goo. When she turned around her face was just six inches from his naked chest. She gasped and her eyes roamed his muscled chest, nipples, then up to his thick shoulders and finally his face and those beautiful eyes.

Jaime agreed to help Claire and possibly the sport of football but he rarely felt like anything more than a test subject to her. He was very confused about the Sassenach but in his honest moments, he realized she wasn’t into him as a boyfriend and while every other girl in school wanted to drop their panties for him, Claire seemed impervious to his stardom.

Claire looked at his face and worried he was feeling exploited. She touched his hand and felt a jolt of lightning not expected. After clearing her throat she asked quietly if he was alright to continue. Jamie was forming the word no in his mouth as his eyes swept across Claire’s face. In that second he saw it. The blush, dilated pupils, open lips, pleading eyes. He couldn’t identify each of the signs but he was a keen observer of what happens to a girl when she wants to kiss.

“I’m fine to go on Sassenach.”

“First position please,” said just above a whisper. Jamie drew his arm back in a mock throwing position. Claire dipped the tip of her finger into the white goo and placed a dot of the liquid every three inches. She weaved in and out of Jamie’s space with her goo and ruler and then stood between his raised arms and bent legs to add drops up his torso, neck, and chin. Jaime stared straight ahead struggling to gain control over his desire to drop his arms and finally touch her. He felt cold goo drip onto his cheek.

“Goddammit,” she whispered. “It’s almost over, I promise, please don’t move.”

One of the graphic techs ran over with a stool and wet cloth and helped Claire stand on it to remove the drip. Jamie watched her intently. Her mouth barely inches from his, arms raised to his face, she moved around him so carefully and so close he could feel her breath on his face.

“Lights gentlemen.” Jamie heard the whir of the cameras coming to life, he saw the light pulse that Claire directed at his throwing side. “Go ahead Jamie, give me all you got.” He was ready to lose it when she said that but he attempted to complete his throwing motion while she encouraged him.

Jamie was breathing hard from the proximity to Claire when one of the techs called out to stop.

“Claire, his sweat is distorting the picture.”

Claire climbed back on the stool and held his face as she dried his sweat. Her eyes lowered to his and he saw the jolt go through her. I’m sorry lass, he thought, but I’m comin for ye and I canna stop. He lowered his arms which encircled Claire and he watched her eyes close as if she wanted nothing to interrupt the feeling. He pulled her closer to him, lips an inch from each other.

“Release your team Sassenach so I can kiss ye.”

“Um, um, that’s a wrap for tonight. Thank you, gentlemen, out, everybody out!”

When the door closed behind them Claire was ready to get down from the stool.

“Stay,” he whispered as he closed the distance between them and then pressed his lips to hers, quickly losing his battle for a slow chaste kiss and forcing her lips open to allow his tongue. He knew she had experience with kissing by the way she angled her head and breathed. Whoever he was, Jamie thought, I’m gonna kiss away every memory of him.

Claire pressed her lips to Jamie’s and got lost in the sensation she had dreamed about for the past year. She knew she should be worried but could not think of a single reason why.

Jamie watched her face. The arousal was obvious making him want to dance a jig around the lab. Her slight smile and sparkling eyes were magnetic and he wanted to lose himself in them. Claire reached for the wet towel and started to wipe the dots off his arms and torso. They said nothing and Jamie watched her hands and the towel touch his skin. She held him to her with one hand while she wiped the dots from his torso and neck. She pulled his face down to wipe the dots on his face and he crushed her to him. He broke the kiss but kept his face an inch from hers and when she looked at him he whispered, “Surrender Claire.”

Claire’s heart took off like a rocket and she had not seen it yet after an hour of kissing. She vaguely considered saying something but that would prevent more kissing so she just smiled and lifted her face to his.

“We should go Sassenach.” She fell against him and whimpered. He put his arm around her and walked her to the door. Looking down at her, “Ye dinna turn anythin off yet.”

“Hmmm?”

He chuckled at her expression, “come, lass, ye need to turn all this off before we go.”

When they were walking to the car, Claire leaned into Jamie and felt his arm around her. He walked her to the door of her house and kissed the breath out of her. He decided she may have kissed before but that was all. He pulled her hands to the back of his neck and felt the length of her press into him. That was too much for Claire who backed up and said goodnight rather quickly.

Jamie’s joyous exuberance was not to be denied and he launched his body into a front flip off the fifth step, landing and laughing at the honking and hooting motorists.

Claire had a permanent smile as she got ready for bed. She wondered if Jamie was thinking about her and if he wanted to kiss again. She shot a text off to Geillis C: U up? G: Bed, cramps, no C: get better, Jamie kissed me like a million times tonight The phone rang.

********************************* I filled my lungs with a deep breath of fresh mountain air and exhaled smiling. I was lost in my daydream, memories actually, of my first year at Catholic Memorial. I have not thought about those people in years. I felt a chilling wind blow across me and climbed out of my hammock picking up my books. It smelled like rain. I watched the trail for my wonderful husband to return. When the cloud above ripped open I took refuge in the tent.

I fell back on the foam rolls and sleeping bags carefully laid out for a reunion of souls and giggled to myself. I offered him two choices, an extravagant weekend at a resort, or camping high in the mountains. Knowing his choice already, I had the camping gear stacked in the corner of the utility room, ready to go.

“Where might the love shack be?” He ran his hand up my back making me shiver.

I tried to whisper my answer because his face was millimeters from mine but he couldn’t wait and kissed me dizzy. He ran his hands all over my body making me shake for him. My reflective state of mind brought back every gasp and gaze on the way to paradise before we left.

I smiled and stretched in the warmth of the tent until the first drop of water hit my forehead. The eyes flew open and I saw a line of water drops lined up on the roof of the tent waiting for their turn to fall. “Shit.” I put my biggest bowl under the drips and considered driving back down the mountain to purchase a new love shack. It would have to wait for this rain to stop and the return of my heart with his stringer full of fish no doubt.

I heard banging outside and unzipped the tent flap barely seeing his outline in the downpour. A cooler flipped open, a clunk from a stringer of fish, and footsteps in the mud. My God, I thought, this impromptu camping trip was supposed to be beautiful weather, a calm lake, and two days to forget the world.

I called out to leave his sopping clothes outside and scrambled out of my halter top and shorts. Jamie poked his head in smiling with pure joy and took the towel I offered. “Ye ordered the weather from Scotland did ye? Ah, I know ye did, it’s why yer my favorite wife Sassenach.” His eyes raked over me from end to end as he prowled closer and whispered, “it’s one of the reasons.”

He had been away at football camp for six weeks and we were hungry for each other.

“Do I smell like fish Sassenach?”

“I don’t care. Come here, love.”

Sometime later I laid in Jamie’s arms with my head on his chest.

“Listen,” he said at last, softly. “Do you hear?” At first I heard nothing but the rushing of the wind, and the trickle of rain, dripping through the holes of the roof. Then I heard it, the steady, slow thump of his heartbeat, pulsing against me, and mine against his, each matching each, in the rhythm of life.

The palm of his hand slid down my body from my shoulder to my knee. I was drifting in my euphoria, eyes closed, remembering how Jamie claimed my body in the last hour, rather roughly I might add. It’s about possession, and dominance, I think, and it calls to a place deep in my soul making me submissive, a slave to his pleasure and my arousal climbs to the stroke range. When that part of Jamie comes out it is he who wakes up with bloody scratches and bruises. It’s like date night for the neanderthal in each of us. I giggled at that thought and forced my eyes open.

The look in Jamie’s eyes made me want to weep for him. “What’s wrong love?”

“Yer comin with me to camp next year Sassenach, I insist. Some of the guys brought their wives, and some had a kid with them! I felt jealousy for what they had and then I got…grumpy.”

“What? You are the best quarterback in the entire country,” I kissed his cheeks, eyes, and throat as I talked, “you do not get grumpy.”

“Well, accordin to the team, if ye dinna come with me next year, they arna comin.”

He rolled me on top of him, “tell me yer comin next year, Sassenach.”

“I’m coming next year to spring training, and every year after that, so help me God. You are the only star in my sky James Fraser.” I let the tears fall because I was overwhelmed at the moment.

“There should be ample room for one tiny star then? When you are ready?”

“Of course Jamie, but two tiny stars or even three might be better. Do you agree my love?”

Jamie blinded me with his smile and wrapped me in his warmth.

“That will be just fine Sassenach.”

[dykebush]

All the botanical asks you haven’t got yet

lia that’s so many 😳 

lavender; soundcloud or vinyls?

soundcloud, i don’t have the money for vinyls, but if i had the money for them then vinyls 

primrose; what book does everyone right now need to read?

i can’t think of any lol 

lunar mist; do you like wearing other people’s shirts/jackets?

yeah

bird of paradise; what was the best thing that happened to you this month?

i hung out with my friends yesterday! also November 5th was incredibly funny

gardenia; what’s a promise you’ve recently made to yourself? 

i promised to be nicer to myself, and to exercise every day, and to get a job, and to write more

whirling butterflies; would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

have not kissed 

marmalade skies; do you plan your outfits? 

sort of? 

apricot drift; how do you feel right now? 

a bit tired! also a bit annoyed at the universe because I keep dropping and breaking things lmao (I dropped a glass lid everywhere and then kept stepping on glass as I was cleaning it, and then spilled water everywhere) 

everlasting daisy; what’s the last dream you remember having?

recurring apocalypse dream, I don’t remember the specifics 

queen’s cup; what are you craving right now?

chocolate 

lavender dream; turn ons/offs?

uhhhh i don’t like most perfume smells, or specific sudden loud noises

water lily; when was the last time you cried? why?

i cried a little bit yesterday when I was watching bly manor, but it wasn’t a full on cry

lily of the valley; did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize?

no, but I don’t expect one, i’ve moved on 

winterberry; do you bite or lick your ice cream?

both 

desert rose; do you like yourself?

a little bit more every day. two steps forward one step back 

snapdragon; have you ever met or seen in person a celebrity?

nope 

night owl; how many countries have you visited?

5, i think? excluding one flight layover  

heliotrope; have you ever been in a castle? 

yes! in Germany 

creams and sky; what’s the craziest/bravest thing you’ve done?

idk if i’ve done anything really 

lantana; what’s on your mind right now?

the mini nanowrimo i thought I would start, that I haven’t written anything for (10k words in two weeks) 

pumpkin patch; what’s your zodiac sign?

aquarius sun, sagittarius rising, scorpio moon

tulip; name 5 facts about yourself.

1. i love rollercoasters, 2. i love love, 3. i cut my hair the other day, 4. i overheat easily, 5. i am a bad actor 

daphne; do you believe in karma?

yep! even if not in a spiritual sense, I think that being kind can bring kindness back to you, and being cruel can bring cruelty back to you 

queen of the meadow; ever been in love? 

perhaps, but I might be wrong 

wisteria; whom do you admire and why?

someone I once knew, they are good at making boundaries 

angel’s face; what was your favorite bedtime story as a child?

i don’t remember 

remember me; did you make someone laugh today? 

hannibal played by mass mikkelsen 

lilac; if you could go back in time which time period would you visit?

hmmmm 1920s? 1980s? 

caramel kisses; would you want to live forever? why/why not? 

i would want to be immortal until I want to die. there’s so many things that I want to experience! but I don’t want to live FOREVER, that’s too long 

primula; what makes you sad?

a lot of things. there’s a lot to be sad about, especially this year

rain lily; was today typical? why/why not? 

it’s typical of the holidays, i’ve spent the morning watching netflix

queen anne’s lace; who do you trust the most?

damn idk that’s a loaded question. next 

forget me not; do you have any regrets looking back in your life?

yes lol many 

lunaria; what’s your favorite fictional universe? 

honestly? rise of the guardians 

violet; favorite tv show? 

doctor who is my favourite comfort show, but i have a lot of shows that i love like dghda and bly manor 

snowdrop; what does your ideal day look like?

visiting a theme park with someone i love, and then we have a picnic, maybe on the beach. it’s sunny and there’s a nice breeze. then we go for a drive along the coast and listen to music together. we get home and it starts storming so we hang out together and watch movies 

tiger lily; do you have any hobbies? 

knitting! i started a blanket in the Irish moss stitch :) i like writing too. i also like baking and cooking, and i sometimes pick up guitar and ukulele and duolingo. um also games. 

peony; share a small random book passage that means something to you. 

there’s a bit in the book thief by markus zusak where Death describes the colours of the sky 

tea rose; what’s something you always wanted to do but were too scared? 

can’t think of anything rn 

honeysuckle; do you usually date people your age or older/younger? 

i’ve only “dated” one person and they were my age. i’m not really into dating people older or younger 

love in the mist; best books you’ve ever read? 

i literally cannot remember and I'm too lazy to try and remember 

foxglove; who is your favorite cartoon character?

dr doofenshmirtz 

magnolia; coffee or tea?

both! i love coffee!! i also love tea!! i’m a multifaceted person 

crown imperial; would you rather be extremely rich or extremely loved?

extremely loved. but if i had a lot of money i could help a lot of people 

snowflake; are you a dog or a cat person? 

both! 

bell flower; what is your biggest addiction? 

don’t judge me lmao i am addicted to asmr, it makes my brain go brrrr

cosmos; do you ever think about the galaxy? 

all the time

moonflower; what’s your favorite color?

yellow, but also pink, and blue, and so many others 

freesia; do you have a good relationship with your parents and siblings? why/why not? 

yes, they always try to be good people. also i just generally get along with them 

poppy; have you ever dealt with a mental illness?

perhaps. i think so yeah. self diagnosed. i’ve gotten pretty good at dealing with it over the years 

clover; how would your friends describe you?

uhhhhhh idk quirky? 🤪��i don’t know. 

dandelion; do you consider yourself an extrovert or an introvert?

introvert, i’m good at spending a lot of time alone, and that’s how i recharge. but i still enjoy people’s presence. i think the words extrovert and introvert are uhhh misnomers? it’s like asking if you prefer the darkness or the brightness. there’s different shades of light on a spectrum 

lilly; what’s something you love watching/reading but you are too embarrassed to admit you do?

asmr but i’m only tentatively embarrassed 

anemone; describe yourself in 3 words.

weird, eclectic, trying 

lotus; best memory as a child?

can’t remember much, but i can remember that time i went on the green lantern rollercoaster at movie world like 4 times 

angelonia; what is your eye and hair color?

brown, dark brown/black 

dahlia; do you like crystals?

yeah, not really in jewellery (it tends to look a little tacky (not always!)) but i like crystals :) 

buttercup; if you could change one thing in the world, what would it be?

stop overall suffering. it’s not one thing, it’s a series of things: war, poverty, food deserts, etc. um if i had to choose one i’d make it so that there’s a reliable source of water available to everyone 

baby’s breath; what’s your hogwarts house?

hufflepuff 

calendula; biggest pet peeve? 

people who have a very different sense of personal space to me and don’t respect mine 

blanker flower; would you rather go to a cocktail party with your best friends or stay home and read a book/watch a movie with your pet?

hm stay home? but also i want to hang out with my friends. i haven’t been to a cocktail party before with friends 

blazing star; share a secret.

scroll through my old blog, i’ve blurted a lot of secrets on there 

carnation; would you rather live longer or happier?

happier 

bluebell; do you wear glasses? 

nope

orchid; do you like exercise?

depends on your definition of “like”. I like the benefits, the after effects. if i’m walking, i like the time alone, and the time out in nature and on the street 

pansy; do you like poetry?

yes duh i’m a poet 

morning glory; any special talent that you have? 

adapting

botanical asks

[amuseoffyre]

In keeping with the season, here’s the Crossing Paths chapter about the resurrection because I still love it and it makes me grin every time I read it.

Outside Jerusalem - Sunday Morning - 33AD.

“What in Heaven’s name are you doing?”

Crowley squinted over her shoulder in the dark. “Nothing.”

The bloody angel was standing there, all agog. Good word, agog. Plenty to gog at. Gogging about. “I don’t believe that,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. He looked down at the two Roman guards in a heap on the ground. Only sleeping. Wouldn’t even notice a thing. “Don’t make me ask again.”

Crowley sniffed, then turned around and put her back against the bloody stone, pushing it. The edges dug in between her shoulder blades, but at least this time, it moved. Sort of. A bit. And then moved back. She said a rude word.

“Crawly!” The angel stepped closer and grabbed her arm. “Wasn’t the nail enough?”

“S’Crowley!” She flapped her hands. “Geroff.”

“Oh good Lord…” Aziraphale sighed like an annoyed mum. Not like… not like his mum. Not when she stood and watched and couldn’t do anything but be there for him. “You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

Crowley scowled at him, trying very, very hard not to sway on the spot. “None your business.” She turned and shoved her shoulder against the stone again. Stupid damn thing had to move. Had to. Needed to make a disappearing act. Give the stupid humans something to go ‘Oooh!’ over. Piss off the stupid tin cans of the Roman legions.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale pulled her back. “Leave the poor man to rest in peace!”

“No!” Crowley squirmed against his grip. “Need to take him!”

“Why?!” Aziraphale demanded, tightening his hold. Angel was strong. S’pose he had to be. Guardian of Eden, he was. Not very good at it, but still like trying to wrestle an octopus. Octopus strong as a tank. Octo-tank?

“Cos!”

“That’s not an answer!”

“Cos!” Crowley repeated, wrenching and wriggling and squirming and finally going all floppy in the angel’s grip. “Cos…”

“Because what?” Aziraphale sounded grumpy.

Crowley stared down at the groove where the stone rested over the entrance to the tomb. Shouldn’t have been so bloody hard to move it. Just a rock. Not like humans hadn’t put it there. How hard could it be to get it out the way?

“He believed,” Crowley said finally, a whisper. “An’ if they come an’ he’s gone, maybe they’ll… maybe it might not have been for nothing? Maybe they’ll think he was…. He did….” She shrugged, all floppy limbs. “Wanna take him. Hide him. Somewhere safe.”

Aziraphale’s arms went all loose and he made a small sound like ‘oh’.

Crowley rubbed her nose on the back of her hand. “S’stupid.”

“No,” Aziraphale said very carefully and gentle, like Crowley was a scared lamb that’d run off.  “No, I understand. A last kindness for the poor fellow.”

Crowley sniffed hard. “Not kind. Stupid.” He peered at the angel. “Why’re you here anyway?”

The angel’s smile was sad. “A blessing,” he said. “The women, his followers, they’ll be coming to anoint him now that Shabbat is over.” He looked sideways. East, Crowley supposed. Sky was turning custard yellow over that way. Morning. Should’ve come earlier. Angel looked back at Crowley. “I know you have the best of intentions, my dear fellow, but–”

But they were coming. But she was too late. But voices were coming closer and he recognised several of them.

“Oh bugger,” she yelped. “Angel! They know me! They saw me! There! By the cross!”

The angel’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “So they won’t be surprised to see you here, then.”

“Not like…” Crowley waved wildly to her ripped dress, the blood and muck all over it. Sleeping in the gutter did that to a person. And now bits of stone and all and she hadn’t done anything useful or helpful or anything and she gave a stupid useless whine, plopping her face in her hands. “I just wanted– I bugger up everything!”

Warm hands grasped his shoulders. “Stand back,” Aziraphale said urgently.

Crowley stumbled, tripping and landing right on the middle of one of the Romans, who groaned and blinked.

Stone grumbled on stone. Aziraphale’s face was all pink with effort, but it moved. It all moved and the tomb was open and Crowley just had to get up and–

“What–?!?”

Crowley hissed in panic. Mary, the mum, the brave little thing, didn’t cry out, not the whole time, not until it was done, and then she had sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and Crowley didn’t– Crowley couldn’t–

White wings spread, hiding Crowley from them, shining and dazzling as the sun came over the edge of the world. “He is not here,” Aziraphale’s voice rang out like a bell. Crowley felt it all the way down to her bones, edged with miracles and divine influence, searing away what was left of her hangover. For a human, it was probably even worse. “He is risen!”

One of the Romans – the one Crowley was sitting on – gave a girly scream and fainted.

The women – the mother and the followers – lit up like Saints, belief dancing through them like fire, and Crowley peeked around Aziraphale’s wing as they turned and hurried back the way they came, talking urgently and excitedly.

Crowley struggled back to his feet. “What did you do?”

The angel folded in his wings self-consciously, twisting his hands anxiously together. “Er. I– do you think that was a bit much?”

“A bit?” Crowley echoed, gesturing after the women. “That was practically a multiple conversion!”

“I was trying to distract them!” Aziraphale wailed.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Crowley exhaled, shuddering. “A bit much, he says.”

Aziraphale sheepishly fiddled with his ring. “Well, now you can…” He waved vaguely towards the tomb. “You know. Take care of things. Secret and safe and what have you.”

“Suppose I can.” Crowley warily edged around him, then paused. “Why did you do that?”

Aziraphale shrugged, staring at his toes. “Technically, it qualifies as a blessing. And they didn’t notice you, did they?”

Technically. Too bloody good at technically, that angel.

“Right,” the demon said, then bent and ducked into the tomb.

And then she bent and ducked back out.

“Angel,” she said, very, very carefully. “You know you told them he wasn’t here because he was risen?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t suppose there’s any chance their belief that he was gone would make it true?”

Aziraphale frowned. “No. Why would it do that?”

Crowley, feeling more than a little off – backwash from a full-blown angelic conversion would do that to a demon – jerked her thumb towards the tomb. “Funny thing,” she said. “It’s empty.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he squeezed passed Crowley to duck into the tomb too. Not much point really. Tiny room. Not exactly like there was a hidden door at the back or enough space to swing a cat or anything.

“Where is he?” he demanded as he popped back out into the morning light.

“How should I know?” Crowley demanded. “Last I checked, they chucked him in there!”

“Maybe the Romans took him?” Aziraphale suggested.

“And stationed guards on an empty tomb? Come off it!”

“Well, if they knew it was empty…”

Crowley shook her head. “No! I–” She flushed. “I kept an eye on it.” She jabbed Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Had to be you. You and your whoooooo angel of the Lord bollocks! You went and…” She flapped her hands all… angelically. “You’ve… somethinged him!”

“Somethinged?” Aziraphale exclaimed indignantly. “If anyone’s going to… something anyone, it’s you!”

Crowley stared at him, then back at the empty tomb. It had the shape of a hell of a lot of trouble in the near and the distant future. “I wasn’t here,” she said at once. “No one saw me. No one saw anything. You… well, you can take credit on this one. However it pans out. Mystical disappearances, angel visions and stuff.”

“Crowley!”

The demon backed away a couple of steps. “Nice miracle, by the way. Thorough.” And she turned, hiking up her robes, and bolted off, bouncing off the bellies of the two supine Romans as she went. “Bye, angel!”

“Damn it, Crowley!” Aziraphale’s yell echoed after her.

[technicallycleverdetective]

Hey, I am here for that challenge! Love your fics! I will just indicate the start and the end of the passage. “Do you remember when I told you about my need for atonement?”Fabrizio nodded to indicate that he did. (...) “Well then, thank you for everything you’ve done, and thank you for coming to say goodbye. You didn’t have to do that.”The words nearly choked him and he held out his hand, praying that Ermal would shake it quickly and go before he fell apart. The angel didn’t move.

Hello!!! I’m so happy to hear that! Thank you so so much for requesting a commentary <3 It was a lot of fun to talk about my word baby.

Okay, so this is kind of the big ‘aha, everything has come together’ moment, or at least that’s how I intended it. It brings the resolution to Ermal and Fabrizio’s story because from the moment they met, one of the biggest obstacles to their relationship has been Ermal’s immortality. Pretty much all of the issues he had stemmed from that and his experience of watching the last person he loved die, so now that he’s chosen to become a human again, that problem has been removed and there’s nothing holding him back from pursuing the relationship he wants with Fabrizio.

 I always knew that I wanted Ermal to end up staying on Earth. It was pretty much the only way to guarantee a happy ending since the alternative…I mean, think about it for three seconds. That would have been so devastating to the point that I don’t think it would have counted as a happy ending. When I first started the story, I hadn’t decided whether Ermal would become a human or stay as an angel at the end, but since immortality was such an important reason why he took so long to admit his feelings, I thought that having that spectre still looming over them would leave a bitter twist in what I wanted to be a simple happy ending. I’m a real sucker for those. Writers can put as many sad moments as they want into a story, but as a reader, I want everything turn out okay before the last page and that comes into my writing. Crucially I want the happy endings to be realistic for the plot and not just ‘we’re running out of time, end it with a pretty ribbon’ and I hope that I managed to achieve that.

 So anyway, I thought that having Ermal become a human would be a nice way to ensure that they wouldn’t be separated on either plane of existence, which rids him of another worry that has been plaguing him throughout the story. But how to make it happen? I always planned for his backstory to tie in to Fabrizio’s children and the ending. The three of those were linked from the start, but I changed the details of what the atonement actually involved about three times.

 I never wanted him to actually apologise for what he did because…well, it didn’t sit well with me that a child should be punished for taking revenge against the person who hurt him for so long and caused his death. I liked the idea that the angels provided this loophole for him- seems like the sort of charitable and merciful thing they should do, even if they have to be lawful good- and it answers the question of why he’s been an angel for so long. It’s not because he never grovelled and apologised. It’s simply because he spent countless years resenting his position and doing his job at the bare minimum standard he could get away with. He was told to look after a certain person and he did that to the letter, but all he had to do was take an interest in literally anyone else and he would have been judged worthy. It’s a bit like Dorothy having the power to go back to Kansas on her feet the whole time.

 (Then again, I don’t blame him for becoming jaded. Paradise’s vetting system for deciding who gets a guardian angel needs work.)

 Still, if he’d figured out the secret, he’d never have met Fabrizio and it’s really fitting that Anita was the one who changed the game. It didn’t only fulfil the terms of the deal, but probably exorcised a few demons as well.

 I’m getting off my prescribed passage now.

 All of that informs Fabrizio’s reaction. One of the very first things that Ermal opened up to him about is how he hates being an angel and wants to see his loved ones again. Obviously his definition of ‘loved one’ has expanded since then, but he never actually told Fabrizio. As far as he’s concerned, getting the key to Paradise is the best thing that’s ever happened to Ermal and he can’t wait to be gone. He’s also haunted by Ermal’s rejection in the hotel room and his threat to disappear if Fabrizio doesn’t back off. I’m getting off my prescribed passage again, but that was important. Ermal let his fears get the best of him and said things he didn’t mean, but Fabrizio believes he was completely serious. Let’s face it, Ermal has a precedent of disappearing into the ether when things don’t go his way. He did it on the morning after, showed up again to deliver an important message, and then vanished for a week. Fabrizio naturally puts the puzzle pieces together and presumes he was to blame for being too pushy with his feelings.

 I feel sorry for him. He’s had such a bad time lately and he thought something good had finally happened, but no, Ermal has got his greatest wish and only came for a flying visit to be polite. At this point he fully expects to be left entirely alone again, but he still tries to send him off with good wishes. I think it shows just how much he loves him, that he’s dying inside, but still trying to put on a brave face because he wants Ermal to be happy even if it’s not with him.

 There are also a few sentences in the passage that I particularly like, so I’ll talk about them too. I’ll go in chronological order:

 “They never actually told me what the terms of the deal were and there was a lot of discussion that I didn’t follow, but I gather that it’s something to do with helping someone that it’s not my job to help. It makes me worthy or whatever, guardian angels are supposed to take an interest in all of humanity and not just the ones that they’re told to look after, something like that.”

 Ermal’s part is pretty factual and just explaining what’s happened off-page to Fabrizio and the reader, but I think the way he speaks says so much about his character and his feelings about the situation. He starts off with a (no doubt sarcastic) remark that he was never told how he was actually supposed to atone, and then fully admits that he didn’t even listen to the meeting. He doesn’t really understand what happened, only that he succeeded in some way and was able to come back, which was all he wanted. I personally believe that he was furious to have been unexpectedly plucked off Earth and was far too busy worrying about Fabrizio, what he would think and how he would get back, to pay any attention whatsoever to the celestial council.

 ‘death knell in his heart’

 I just picked that one small part out. I am a big fan of that turn of phrase and I probably use it too much, but I really think it’s perfect for that moment. The sound of a tolling bell brings me up short and seems to stop the world around me for a moment, and that’s just how Fabrizio feels. He doesn’t understand why Ermal is back, only that he is, and he’s cautiously hoping that there’s a way to make him stay when he hears that and *dong*. He’s not naïve and he knows Ermal has feelings for him, but he can’t compete with the one thing he’s always wanted, so in that moment he knows he’s going to lose him and the knell signals the death of his hopes.

 ‘The angel was looking at him with wide eyes, like a puppy expecting to be scolded.’

 I like this because they’re having two different conversations. Fabrizio thinks Ermal is feeling sorry for leaving him and is hoping to be set free without too much drama, whereas Ermal is terrified that he’s going to be told to get out and never come back. Yes, he’s only told Fabrizio half the story, but he’s looking for some signal of welcome before he admits what he’s done. Fabrizio is a bleeding heart after all, and he doesn’t want to make him feel like he has to take him back because he has nowhere else to go. Instead Fabrizio swallows his pain and tries to give him what he thinks he wants- a farewell and a good luck.

 ‘He stood up and his legs felt weak for a reason that had nothing to do with muscles or bone.’

  This is perhaps my favourite turn of phrase in the chapter. It’s a callback to the incident that brought them together in the first place and I like the idea of showing how his progress is so tied up with Ermal, that he makes him strong, and now that he’s about to lose him he feels weak again.

[qeterqujll]

angels; your best friends are the four most problematic angels in heaven

characters: castiel x reader, gabriel x reader, lucifer x reader, balthazar x reader, dean winchester, sam winchester

a/n: i might try and do a few of these because these four are my favorite i literally cannot handle it. so this is kind of a prologue to that series.

Dean is glaring at you from across the room, staring distastefully at the other four beings standing in front of you. Sam is gone for the day, but Dean’s sure he’d throw a fit if he saw the group standing in their kitchen chatting away while you cook them pie– pie. They’re getting pie and that is not okay with him. Angels don't even eat and now you’re cooking them pie.

“Winchester,” Lucifer spits, glaring back at Dean, “I hope you know that I can hear you.”

“Good,” Dean bites back, crossing his arms as he stands, making his way to your side, “what can I think that’ll make you disappear?”

“Dean,” you snap, whipping around with a whisk pointed at the Winchester, “we talked about this. He’s fine.”

Lucifer’s frown shift’s into a pleased grin, sauntering over to you happily, not missing the opportunity to shoulder past Dean and replace him at your side.

“Lucifer,” Castiel sighs, beginning another unsuccessful attempt at playing mediator between the fallen angel and the Winchester, “you are being childish.”

“Oh, I’m being childish, little brother?” he scoffs, leaning back against the counter with crossed arms, “you should be talking to Gabriel.”

Dean shakes his head, staring at you as if to ask is this really who you invited to the Bunker? but you avoid his gaze and pretend to be very heavily invested in the eggs you’re cracking. Dean just sighs, grumbling something about angels being the bane of his existence before flopping back into his chair, brooding from a distance and scowling when Lucifer meets his gaze with a smirk.

“You’re just jealous because you’re not the favorite anymore,” Gabriel grins, “Don’t worry, Dean-o, we’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Sure,” Dean scoffs, opening one of his vintage magazines with a shake of his head and an annoyed sigh, “last time soon meant two weeks.”

He very vividly remembers finding the four angels in your room in various positions. Cas he expected, seeing as you had always been close to the angel, but Dean always assumed you and Cas had a thing going on, something he was not interested in asking about. But Cas was not the one laying on your bed, head in your lap as he flipped through one of the books you kept on your dresser. No, that was Gabe, and your hand was actually in his hair as you looked at something on your phone.

Fine, Dean had thought, fine, two angels. One he could handle, and the other he could half-tolerate.

When he spotted Balthazar looking through the lore books on your floor, picking up one about angels and flipping through it, he’d been more than a little bit surprised. He wasn’t sure when Balthazar had come back, and he was definitely not sure when he’d gotten close enough to you for you to allow him into the Bunker, but whatever. Balthazar was irritating, sure, but at least he’d helped them with Cas when they were desperate.

Then he saw Lucifer, laying on your other side with his legs crossed and his eyes closed in peaceful contentment.

He shakes his head at the memory, glancing one more time at the group before standing and storming up the stairs to his room. If he has to stand one more second of those four together with you he thinks he would be better off with Crowley in hell.

“What crawled up his arse and died?” Balthazar comments as Dean storms up the stairs. You sigh, shaking your head as you put the pies in the oven, one for the Winchesters and one for the angels (they insisted they’d enjoy it even though you know well enough from Cas that they won’t taste anything).

“You guys did,” you snort at your own comment, feeling a few glares on your back as you turn around to clean up the mess you’d made while cooking.

“I do not understand,” Castiel begins, “why would we be up Dean’s-”

“Can someone please smite him before I do?” Lucifer grumbles.

“No smiting in the Bunker, please.” “You humans and your rules,” Lucifer rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move from his seat to approach the still confused Castiel, who has let any part of the conversation after Balthazar’s comment go over his head.

“Can you guys just,” you sigh, turning back towards the four angels sitting on the opposite side of the counter, “please behave yourselves around the boys. They’re still warming up to most of you.”

“They like Castiel,” Balthazar sighs, “I don’t understand why any of us are different from him.”

“Would you like the short list,” you look pointedly at Gabriel, “or the long one,” your gaze shifts to Lucifer. “Do the words Tuesday and Apocalypse ring any bells?”

“Michael started it,” Lucifer grumbles, “besides, that was ages ago. They’re too sensitive.”

“Yes, death will do that to someone,” you scoff, leaning towards Lucifer on the counter, “I know you’re not exactly up to par on humans, but we don’t exactly appreciate being killed.”

“Thank you, sweetheart, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

There’s sarcasm dripping from his words, but you ignore it, smiling happily and taking the conversation as a win. You walk around to the library, picking up the book you’d been reading on the history of vampires and werewolves, but it’s plucked from your hands and replaced by a lore book on angels that you have yet to read. You glance over the top of the book, but all four of the angels are minding their own business. You almost set the book down to find the one you’d been in the middle of when you hear, “if you’re going to read that nonsense, at least read interesting nonsense.”

You roll your eyes, gaze shifting from the angels to the page the book had been opened to in your hands, skimming the words before setting it down on the table, making your way back to the kitchen.

“That book says all humans have a guardian angel,” you glance between the four, “do I?”

“Well it did say all humans, didn’t it?”

“Hm,” you glance at your hands, clasped together on the counter, “who is it?”

“Would it make a difference?” Lucifer sighs, “we’re all here. None of us are going anywhere anytime soon, apparently.”

“Just curious. So all of you have a human you watch out for?”

“All angels have had one at some point,” Gabriel says, “but for most of us, our humans have died. Now we’re all stuck with you.”

“If you want to know if it’s one of the four of us,” Balthazar interrupts, “it is.”

You nod, waiting for him to continue, but he just meets your gaze with a smile on his face that tells you that you won’t be getting any more answers out of him.

“So it’s one of you. Then why do all four of you stick around if you don’t need to?”

“What is it you humans call...friendship? Companionship? Even angels get bored and you’re very entertaining,” Lucifer smirks and Castiel glares at him, but doesn’t comment. You snort, taking a handful of flour and blowing it at him, laughing at the unamused look on his now flour-covered face.

“Well I, for one, am quite entertained.”

“I am the most feared creature on this planet,” Lucifer deadpans, “and you just threw flour at me.”

“It’s the simple joys, Luci.”

In retaliation and with a single snap of his fingers, you feel what must be at least a pound of flour pour over you, covering you in the white powder.

“Well played,” you shake your head, a cloud of flour from the top of your head surrounding you, “you’d better watch your back.”

“You’re lucky you’re not a Winchester because threatening me would not be wise.”

You shrug, taking a handful of flour from the floor and throwing it at him, blowing a kiss when his scowl deepens. With another snap of his fingers, the flour surrounding him is gone.

“I still want to know which one of you is my guardian angel,” you glance between them, sitting on the only empty stool between Balthazar and Gabriel, who snaps his fingers to rid you of the flour covering you.

“Let’s just say we split the responsibility evenly,” Balthazar eventually says when the other three angels refuse to respond, “guardian angels only get one human to look after, and when they pass on we don’t get another human chosen specifically for us to watch over. And the one of us who is your real guardian angel will tell you eventually, but I personally don’t think it matters. I quite like this.”

He motions to the five of you sitting together at the counter and you smile, because you definitely like it too.

“You big ‘ol sap,” Gabriel shakes his head, snapping his fingers to make the pies materialize from the oven in front of him.

“Only one,” you remind him, “the other is for the boys.”

“I thought we were the boys,” Lucifer mutters with a mouth already full of pie.

“We are not boys,” Castiel states, “we are angels of the Lord.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lucifer scoffs.

“Sam’s home in a few,” you hear Dean shout from the balcony above you, “have fun explaining this little playdate to him.”

“Bye, Dean-o!”

Gabriel snaps his fingers and suddenly the silence of the Bunker’s kitchen is replaced by the sounds of heavy traffic and unfamiliar voices.

“Gabe,” you run a hand over your face, refusing to open your eyes and look at your surroundings, “where did you take us?”

“I believe we’re in Paris, darling.”

You open your eyes, the Eiffel Tower standing proudly in the distance. You turn towards Gabriel, who has taken a sudden interest in the the sky, although you can see the smirk on his face.

“Gabriel,” Castiel sighs, “we should go back. Dean will worry.”

“I’m sure Dean and that oaf brother of his will manage on their own for the rest of the day,” Lucifer puts an arm over your shoulders, guiding you towards the nearest cafe, “and I haven’t been to Paris since the Apocalypse.”

[buffster]

War Zone (ATS 1.20)

This is part of my ongoing Buffyverse Project, where I write notes/meta for every episode in an attempt to better understand the characters and themes of the shows. You can find the BTVS list here and the ATS list here. Gifs are not mine.

I love Gunn, but War Zone kind of left me wondering why Alonna wasn’t the one to survive and join Angel’s team. For a moment it seems like the story is going to be about her wanting to stay out of the fight until her brother is killed. Instead her death started Gunn’s story in a strange place--what was the point of Alonna changing, exactly? He wasn’t lacking the realization of how serious this is (he’s lost people before) and the narrative clearly isn’t trying to teach him to quit loving the fight. Gunn’s backstory was already dark, so this didn’t add a much-needed tragic element. It honestly felt like killing off Alonna gave Gunn the freedom to be all in. In fact, the episode ends with him telling Angel nothing has changed. Am I forgetting how this is important later, or was it just one-episode entertainment?

Vampire!Alonna totally should have known Gunn would never join them. Maybe she overestimated his emotions for her, but she should know better than anyone how he feels about vampires. I think it would be in-character for her to want her brother still, but I feel like she should have been more clever about getting him turned. Actually, now that I think on it, Alonna being on the loose probably would have been a more interesting future storyline. Angel could have been trying to dissuade him from a vendetta while Gunn obsesses about giving his sister peace.

Anyway...Gunn is sort of the Xander of Angel--wait, wait. Don’t come for me. I only mean that he is often ignored by the narrative, his plot lines picked up and put down whenever it’s convenient. The result for Xander was a lot of fan interpretation, where his actions are either painted as reasonable or absolutely evil with circumstantial evidence. Gunn is better beloved by the fandom; I think Gunn as a stand in for disadvantaged black men was received much better than Xander’s as the every man with sexist tendencies. 

Cordelia: No - money - I like the smell of a little money once in a while. 

Angel: She's not just saying that. Hide some in the office sometime to watch her. It's uncanny.

Meanwhile, Angel Investigations has a case with a rich man who’s being blackmailed by his love of demon brothels (someone should really tell Riley about Madam Dorion’s). It all started with a bunch of guys playing D&D and wanting to carry their fantasies over into real life. 

I liked this subplot for  Cordelia. After her dreams of acting started to die it wouldn’t be unreasonable for her to consider using someone like David to climb to the top. Especially since he seemed like he wouldn’t mind her honestly making an arrangement with him, and she seems to want the life of a socialite more than acting anyway. But she ends up deciding she still hopes to find real love.

Gunn: Everybody dies. I'm just trying to make sure that when we die, we stay dead.

Alonna: It shouldn't have gone down the way it did.  You're getting reckless.

Gunn: I do what I got to do.

Alonna: No, you do more than you got to do. Three weeks, G. Three weeks and no teeth and you had to ring the dinner bell like that? You just couldn't go another day without getting a little death in, could you?

Gunn: You think I like this?

Alonna: No, I think you love it. And you won't quit until you get as close to death as you possibly can.

Again, not much changed by episode’s end.

I feel like Gunn must have a lot of experience with vampires to perceive Angel saving Alonna as something a “real” vampire wouldn’t do rather than some elaborate trick. I was surprised he let him go.

The entire point of this episode was basically to introduce Gunn as a future ally, so not much else to say here. I’m excited to start getting the gang together.

Character Notes:

Angel: Angel forgetting he has a cell phone and trying to use brute strength to break out was a nice, believable character moment. He still uses the name Angelus when he wants to sound threatening. 

Gunn: He and Alonna lived in a shelter on Plummer Street. The second floor was rotted out, and he was the only one brave enough to cross. When Alonna tried he was waiting below to catch her.