#maybe love is the problem actually in heaven sent/hell bent

[sandymybeloved]

moffat stories always save the day with big important spee- WRONG the day is most often saved by people who love each other so much, no enemy however big, no obstacle however insurrmountable, sometimes not even death, can stop them from saving each other

[kazoo5480]

This was totally inspired by @itsfabianadocarmo and her wonderful collages on Tumblr :) xo 

Collage credit to @itsfabianadocarmo

Chapter 1 on AO3

The sun was hot on Emma's skin, she smelled the salty breeze of the waves crashing, the hot sun on her skin, the banana boat oil she was covered in, “Brandy” blaring out of Ruby’s radio sitting at the edge of her blanket. "Man, I can only imagine what Graham would be like between the sheets" Ruby purred as she peered over her white sunglasses at the guys in the water. Emma rolled her eyes, "Dude, just don’t check out my brother please for the love of god Rubes", Emma said exasperated.

"Hmm, Dave isn’t too bad either, rawrrr" she giggled. Emma sat up, "gross Ruby". She shielded her eyes from the sun, looking to the water watching her brother as he paddled back out in the cove, small waves rolling in. "You wanna go in Rubes? I'm boiling out here.” "Sure, boards, or no?" " Sure," Emma said and stood up, bending down to grab her board off the sand beside her.

"Well, that is quite a sight to behold" a lilting Irish voice said behind her. Emma rolled her eyes, ignoring that voice, it belonged to one of her brothers’ friends, Killian Jones. Irish bastard Emma thought to herself as she rolled her eyes, secretly pleased he was ogling her, but wouldn’t dignify his comment with a retort other than a middle finger. He chuckled as she waved it behind her not even looking his way. Ruby stood up, adjusting her red string bikini, grabbing her board too. 

The girls walked towards the water, the surf cooling their feet after the hot sand burned beneath their soles. Emma looked to Ruby, "Ready?" Ruby nodded, and they waded in and began paddling out.

Killian Jones was sitting on the sand, warming himself up. Man, Emma Nolan was the ultimate California girl he thought to himself. Her sun-bleached curls hanging low down her back, her skin golden and dark from the sun, freckles sprinkled across her skin. He was particularly fond of the freckles on the soft inner skin of the most spectacular rack he had ever seen. Emma was thin, and athletic, a great ass, and she was a  great surfer. She had a smart mouth that never seized to amaze him. 

Their verbal foreplay over the years only got better the older they got. Dave Nolan had welcomed him pretty easily when his brother and him arrived to their neighborhood a few years back, the only warning was hands off his sister, and Killian respected that line his friend had drawn, hell if he had a sister that looked like Emma, he would probably say the same thing. The problem was, the more time that passed, the harder Killian was falling for her.

He sat a few more minutes, until he grabbed his board and headed out into the water to finish up their day. He sat atop his board in the shallows, waiting and watching, Jeff caught a decent wave, Dave and Graham waiting out for the bigger ones.  Emma was atop her board beside her brother talking about something, while Graham was no doubt flirting with Ruby, leaning in towards the brunette laughing and smiling at her.

Killian felt a pang of jealousy, he had never had an issue finding a lass for an evening, but not the one he wanted. Too bad it would never happen, he looked over at him catching Emma's sparkling green eyes roving over him. His ears felt hot, she was staring at him trying terribly to hide it, but he had just caught her giving him a look he had only fantasized about a thousand times, and then she looked away, acting like it never happened.

Shit, he totally caught her looking, flushing red Emma spun her board and began paddling away from the group to sit in the lull. Emma tried her hardest never to appear interested or overly friendly towards Killian, she loved her brother but some of his stories about the brothers Jones and their way with the ladies hit a little too close to home for her and getting her heart broken was not something she wanted to experience. 

Emma's deepest secret was that she had pined after Killian for three years, three long years. He only got hotter, and it never fucking helped. Aside from some flirtations, and a few drunken close encounters, he had never actually crossed a line. He was 19, she was 17, not too much of an age difference and she was just a few months shy of 18, but obviously he didn't see her as anything except his friend’s little sister.

Dammit, she said shaking herself out of it, focusing on the caps headed her way, she saw a wave rolling in, she got ready, "catch it Em" Dave yelled through his cupped hands. She nodded at him charging forward toward it and quickly stood up, she felt the familiar tilt in her balance. She spread out, and felt her board take off. She kept herself steady, railing the shoulder and locked in, riding it out with a giant smile on her face.

Killian duckdove and paddled towards the break to join the group. Emma was sitting atop her board facing them in the shallows, a smile on her face, and David clapped and hollered at his sister. She just waved her hand and called out pointing "party", the group spun and started charging hard, it was going to a fun one Killian thought. He could hear Ruby laughing as she got in position, "party time boys", and winked at him smiling. They were off, Ruby went first, followed by Graham and David, when they all rode it out Killian was the last to return to the shallows. "That was bitchin" Ruby said, Emma laughed and nodded.

Emma’s skin was wet and glistening in the sunlight, her yellow bikini practically see through, her nipples were puckered, and Killian could easily see those freckles on her breasts that drove him mad. Killian felt the blood rush to his groin and quickly spun his board heading back out, and away from the purest form of temptation. He caught a few more waves, and kept going until his muscles began protesting.

The group had reconvened on the beach on their blankets, and he made his way over to them. "Catch Jones", Emma called, and a sandwich hit him square in the chest. " Thanks Swan" and he winked at Emma. He had begun calling her that a few summers back, her long graceful neck reminded him of a swan and after a night of drinking he told her just that and she let it slide.

He sat beside Dave and tucked into the lunch the Nolan’s mom had sent for them. Dave and Emma had a great mom, Ruth Nolan was essentially the matriarch of their little rag tag group. Their mother, their rule enforcer, their caretaker. She watched over each of them, and as a single mom of two, she openly accepted each of them as if they were her own.

He watched Dave look at his watch, " It's 3 Em, work in an hour", she nodded and grabbed her bag. "Alright, catch you guys later" and she stood throwing her towel over her shoulder, not bothering to dress, and looked to Ruby. "I’ll catch a ride with Graham and Dave, head over around 8?" she said, and Emma nodded looking to Graham who also nodded at Emma.

Emma leaned forward and kissed Dave on the top of his head, he patted her hand. "Later". She bent again and grabbed her board, and Killian watched her head towards the lot where her sunshine yellow VW bus was parked, leaning her board against it. Killian made a snap decision, "hey I'm going to see if Em will drop me at the apartment before Liam gets off. Catch you guys later? I'll see if he wants to come." Dave nodded, "head over for dinner if you guys want, we won’t be here much longer", Killian nodded and grabbed his board hightailing it for the lot.

"Swan", came a shout. Emma looked up, "Hey" her heart fluttering in her chest. "Can you drop me on your way?" She nodded, "You working today? "Nah, I just want to try to catch Liam when he gets off, see if he wants to join us tonight", she nodded. "C'mon Jones, hop in" she said with a smile. Killian was assaulted with the scent of her in the small sun warmed space, she rolled down the window, and he followed suit.

The scent of her suntan oil, saltwater and sunshine was heaven. Her hair was like spun gold drying in wind swept ringlets, and his fingers itched to sink into it and pull her to him. Instead, he fiddled with the radio knobs until he found a station he liked.

Emma sang along with Don Mclean on the radio, sitting atop her beach towel in only her bikini still. Killian kept his eyes focused out the window until she pulled in front of his complex. He hopped out quickly, and slid the side door open to grab his board and towel, "see you later Swan?" "If you're lucky" she said. "Any time I'm graced with your presence, I'm lucky", and he instantly regretted the words that spilled out, unable to force them unspoken and back into his brain.

Her cheeks turned pink, the blush creeping down to her chest. "Maybe later?” and winked at him before she pulled away. He stood on the sidewalk awestruck, did she flirt back? Did that actually happen?

He watched her bus turn the corner, and shook his head, lost in thought up the three flights of steps to their flat. He hopped into the shower rinsing his suit off and hanging it up to dry on the towel bar and scrubbed down. Thoughts of Emma and her wet yellow bikini flooded his mind. Her laugh, the sparkle of her green eyes, the look she gave him earlier, watching her lean body out in the waves today, his cock was at full attention.

He took himself in hand, gripping hard, he imagined if he untied those thin straps of her swimsuit, her full tan breasts with rosy pink tips, he knew the outline of them to make this fantasy real enough, her scent still in his nose, he heard her sighs as he would kiss his way down her long slender neck, kissing over her collarbones, over each constellation of freckles he had begun identifying years ago, until he would suck each pink tip into his mouth.

Her fingers would slide into his hair, scraping his scalp, her small gasps escaping as he wound her up, he pumped himself harder, he imagined sliding her bottoms off and cupping her perfect ass in his hands pulling her against his hard cock, her tongue chasing his, and he felt his orgasm brewing like a storm. He pictured her dropping to her knees, and slipping those beautiful pink lips over his cock, taking him fall the way in to her throat, he gasped, his breath quickening, he could almost feel her small hands sliding over his cock as she pumped his licking over his slit, he pumped himself furiously, he felt a rush as he kept going, pushing through his orgasm, his seed shooting hard ropes against the cool tile he was braced against breathing heavily.

His forehead tipped forward and he leaned there, the hot water now running cool down his back. Fuck he said harshly, his blood humming, what the fuck was he going to do? He was so screwed. She had said maybe later, like a question. Did she want him to make a move on her? What the hell would Dave do if he did?

Emma was old enough, and he had seen her with a few guys over the last few years. But could it be possible she wanted him just as much as he wanted her? He barely registered getting dressed when he heard Liam walked in and came out of his room to see his brother collapsed on the couch.

“Rough day?” Killian asked his brother. “Long day, but possibly good? I don’t even know if that makes any sense little brother” and he mumbled into the pillow on their small couch. “Want a beer?” Killian offered, his brother just nodded, and Killian went to fetch one. “The Nolan’s invited us for dinner, you wanna come?” Liam nodded yes into the pillows where he remained face down. Killian just laughed sinking into a chair in the corner near their bookshelf.

“I need a shower Liam said, and got up, taking his beer with him into the bathroom, and started the shower. “The water is cold” he shouted, and Killian laughed. “It wasn’t very warm for me either” he said loudly, lying, and grateful his brother couldn’t see the shade of pink that his face was now covered in. Liam strode out a few moments later and pointed at him. “Is the bill paid?” “Aye” but we share a tank with the lads across the hall, so my guess is that we just weren’t fast enough to catch it”, Liam shook his head and said nothing.

Killian let Liam dress, and grabbed his skateboard. Liam grabbed his, and the two of them skated the few blocks over to the Nolan’s house, entering through the small garden gate. They shared a truck of their own, mainly for Liam to get to work down at the harbor, but it was just more enjoyable to ride their boards towards the Nolan’s.

David and Rob were sitting on the porch swing, robs girlfriend Regina sitting in a rocking chair leafing through a magazine. “Hey guys” she said sweetly. Regina was a year or two older than them and worked for a small local magazine as a writer, but her and Robin had been together since high school. She was a genuinely nice person, Rob worked a few odd jobs around town, lifeguard at the beach, swim coach at the YMCA, and was a hell of a surfer.

“You missed a party today Rob” Killian said, and Robin frowned, “Damn, who led?” he asked. “Ruby surprisingly. She is getting pretty good thanks to Hunt” and Dave barked out a laugh shaking his head.

Regina laughed too, “I was wondering when he would make his move on her, it took him long enough” she said. Killian smiled, they all knew the two of them were never as sneaky as they thought they were, but Ruby was happy and Graham was in love with her for years, so he was just happy it worked out.

“Gina, is Mary Margaret coming?” Dave asked. “Her and Emma are both working tonight, their shift ends at 9 I think”, still leafing through the magazine. “Here” she tossed the magazine into Robs lap, that was the competition I was talking about”. Robin leaned forward, reading it quickly, Killian and Liam looked at Dave who shrugged.

“Surfing competition is coming to the cove in two weeks, we should enter” Rob said. Groans from each of them spilled out. “What? We all love doing it, why not try to make some cash from it for once?” he said.

“If everyone agrees, and that’s Emma and Ruby included, I am in” Dave said. Killian nodded in agreement. “If Emma and Ruby agree to what?” came a voice from the screen door.

Ruth Nolan stepped out onto her porch; Dave immediately got up offering his mom his seat on the swing. She patted his cheek lovingly and did the same to each of them before taking her seat. “Liam you look too thin, I need to feed you better”, he rolled his eyes at her “Ruth I am a man, I feed myself just fine”, but smiled. “I’ll be the judge of that” she said with a warm smile.

“So, what will Emma and Ruby be agreeing to?” their matriarch asked. Regina piped in, “there’s a surfing competition, I think they should enter as a team, I think they could win it if they wanted to”. Ruth nodded, “wont they need a sponsor?” she asked.

“I might be able to get the magazine to sponsor but hitting up some of the surf shops would be a good place to ask around too” Regina said. Ruth looked at Dave, “If I had the money to spare, I would offer honey, but this one you’ll have to handle on your own”. Dave smiled, “no worries Ma, if they want to do it, we will figure it out together” and Ruth nodded.

“Speaking of which, Em still at work?” Ruth asked. “Til 9 I think” Regina said, my sister mentioned that her and Emma were working together tonight. Ruth nodded again. “Well let’s eat, I am famished, already set Emma’s aside so let’s go dig in, and all her little ducklings as she fondly referred to them as followed her into the house setting about in their tasks of setting the table, getting glasses, cutlery, napkins, and seated themselves in a circle as best as they could in the small room.

A few blocks over Emma was seated on a stool at the counter at Rae’s, a small local diner. Mary Margaret, one of her best friends was behind the counter making up a milkshake, which she poured and delivered, giving Emma the remains in the steel cup with a straw. Emma sucked it down, thinking about Killian. Why did he say that to her, why did she respond, and wink? Christ, she was an idiot.

“Penny for your thoughts Em?” the brunette asked sweetly. Emma eyed her, Mary Margaret knew Emma’s secret love for the Irishman, and she never blabbed about it.

“I drove him home and he said something today, and it confused me, and I flirted back and it made it even more confusing M”. “Honey, he has been in love with you for years, I noticed ages ago, but neither of you actually ever act on it, so I doubt that it complicated anything” she smiled at Emma.

Emma sucked the remains of the shake out of the cup sliding it back to her friend who dumped it in the bin below the counter. “What’s the plan after work?” she asked. “I think Ruby is heading up here in a bit, then we will go out, wanna come?” Mary Margaret flushed, “ok” was all she said.

“Its fine M, I know you like him, and he likes you, its fine, even though its my brother, its fine” and assessed her friend. Mary Margaret flushed, and just shook her head, “well we shall see, but I am not putting hope into anything”. Emma just nodded.

The bell over the door rang, and the two women looked to the door. Ruby walked in, Graham in tow and they waved setting up next to Emma at the counter. “You guys done already?” she asked Emma. “Nah, just my break”. Ruby nodded, “Well I am starving” she said, and Emma notices a very defined hickey on her neck near her collarbone.

Emma stood up and leaned into her ear, “it appears I know why Ruby Lucas”, and Ruby gave her a wolfish grin and winked at her with eyes sparkling. Graham groaned “Just leave it be Em, alright?”

“Sure, Hunt just don’t hurt her, or M will be calling me to help her hide a body” she said with a little snark. He barked out a laugh, “that’s what is the scariest part, she is the most lethal of you three” and they all laughed.

Dave got a call from Will who decided that he was throwing a party at his little beach shack, so they ate quickly and cleaned up dinner. Dave made his way to Emma’s room and grabbed a bag of clothes she had packed up off her bed.

“Ma, we are heading out to Wills”, Ruth nodded as she did her crossword puzzle, “Don’t” “forget to take Emma’s bag, I know I got it” and he raised it in his arm as proof. She nodded, “all of you be careful” and waved them out the front door.

Killian offered to head to Rae’s with Dave to pick Swan and Mary Margaret up, the rest of them headed towards Wills in Regina’s car. When Dave parked in an open spot, a flash of blonde hair whipped into view, balancing a tray on her arm as she roller skated towards a car parked a few over.

Killian took in her work uniform, Knee high socks, roller skates, long lean legs in short white cut off denim shorts, and a red tee shirt. Her hair was back in a ponytail and high on her head, the curls long and cascading down her back.

David headed towards the front door of the diner, and Killian caught Emma’s eye nodding in greeting. She shot him a huge smile, and then he watched her lean forward onto the patrons car. She was flirting with the guy driving, and for some reason it bothered him. She twirled her ponytail as he watched her blow a gum bubble listening and smiling at the driver.

By the time Killian entered in, and sat down next to Dave and Ruby, Mary Margaret had appeared with a strawberry milkshake for Ruby, and a vanilla one for Dave. “Oi, what am I? Chopped liver?” he asked in jest.

Mary Margaret slid a metal cup towards him with a children’s curly straw, “a manly milkshake for a manly man” she joked back. He nodded, “this is more like it” as he began drinking the chocolate shake.

He had one eye on the door, waiting to see Emma, but she hadn’t come in yet. “She does it for the tips you know", Mary Margaret said slyly. He caught her eyes, “I don’t know what you mean” he stuttered.

“Sure, you don’t Jones, maybe you should make a move and see” M winked at him, making a hasty exit.

Feel free to be added or ask to be removed, share or whatnot. Just tagging those I hope might like it!   @itsfabianadocarmo @onceuponatime @thesschesthair @the-captains-ayebrows @the-lady-of-misthaven @wefoundloveunderthelight @timeless-love-story @xhookswenchx @purplehawkcaptain @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4 @killiansprincss @captainswanouat @captainswoon @captain-swan-coffee @killianslefthook @timeless-love-story @tnlph @wefoundloveunderthelight @hollyethecurious @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @elizabeethan​

[flyingpurplepeopleeater42]

Who's your favourite doctor (from Doctor Who) and favourite companion? (Those are my standard questions every time I come across someone who watches Doctor Who.)

Oh boy (this is gonna be a long post 😂😂)

It's kinda difficult for me to do favourites but I'll try.

I've watched season 1 to 11 from the 2005 reboot so what I am saying is based on that.

First of all , I do not like 9. Idk if this is controversial of sth but 9 is just boring. The writing this season is awful (3 EPISODES WITH FARTING ALIENS ?!?!? REALLY?!??!) with the notable exception of where-is-my-mummy episodes. Even the 9th doctor's outfit is plain and not even close to the other iconic doctor-outfits we had through the seasons. The only thing I adore from that season is Captain Jack. I love him. He owns my whole heart and no I will not elaborate.

So since 9 is out of the way I'll talk about 10th,11th,12th and 13th.

Firstly in terms of writing/story:

11th had clearly the best writing and the most interesting plot in his seasons (mainly the whole River Song- subplot and fantastic monsters like the Angles and The Silence. )

Same goes for 12th with episodes like Hell Bent /Heaven sent or that inception-like Christmas episode etc. (Capaldi's last season was kinda weak so that's why I put him second here)

Then we have the 10th doctor. I liked the Master and every episode Moffat has written but I wasn't a fan of episodes like Doomsday (yeah a lot of dramatic stuff happened but the deus-ex-machina at the end threw me off)Also 10th had really well written companions (I love Donna and Martha)

Finally we have the 13th. WHY CHIBNALL WHY?!?! The 11th season was boring. All the master were human-like things with deep voices and the only episodes I actually liked was the Rosa Parks episode and Demons of the Punjab.(and I liked them coz of their interesting historical setting.The aliens were again shit.)Also 13th had a huge companion-problem. WHY GIVE HER 3 GODDAMNED COMPANIONS?!?!?There wasn't time for any actual character development for any of them. They were just plain stereotypes. I wish that they would ditch Ryan and his Grandfather and keep Yasmin as the companion.(idk despite the shit writing I still love Yaz and I think that Mandip and Jodie have great chemistry)

Now in terms of acting

I LIKE ALL OF THEM.

I love david Tennant coz he even tho he gave the character that playfulness/silliness you could still fill all the underlying anger that came from all the time war related stuff.

I love Matt Smith coz when I look at the 11th doctor I dont just see a young face. I see that 900 year old creature who's been through a lot and is running away from his past. (Bonus: BOW TIES ARE COOL)

I love Peter Capaldi coz he gave us a more angry/disappointed (emo?!?!) Side of the doctor.(Bonus: The war speech at the Zygon Invasion episode is def one of my favourite dr who scenes of all time)

I love Jodie Whittaker too. I believe she captured very well the eccentric part of the character and I am surprised that she still delivered such a good performance given how shitty the script was.

Soo I am done with the doctors let get to companions now.😂

Well

I ADORE MARTHA JONES. SHE IS AWESOME. SHE IS GREAT. I AM IN LOVE WITH HER.

I love Amy Pond too. I just like her character and the whole idea of the girl who waited/ is tired of waiting any more is great. Also the romance with Rory 👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼.(plus !!!!!!!!!SEASON 7 SPOILERS!!!!!!!! the Angels in Manhattan episode ripped my heart into pieces and given my current Merlin obsession I seem to I love that🤣)

Donna is HILARIOUS. Catherine Tate + David Tennant = Comedy Gold.

Clara Oswald was great too and worked really well with Capaldi's doctor.

I like Bill Potts too. Her story is kinda needlessly confusing and not that interesting but I cannot help but stan a gay science fiction nerd

Yasmin has the potential to be a great companion but as I mentioned before...shit writing

I don't even consider Ryan and Graham to be companions ...they're just there... just entities that exist in the tardis....def not companions

Finally ......maybe the most controversial part of this post: I do not like Rose Tyler. I do not like how she treats Mickey (I do not like Mickey either but that's besides the point ) I absolutely hate that whole romance between her and the doctor.And overall I find her annoying. (I think Billie Piper is a great actress tho)

Bonus: James Corden's character is lovely and that episode with him , the doctor and the baby trying to stop the cybermen is one of my all time favourites and I believe that deserves a special mention .

So that's it. I think I am done.🎉

[styw]

Love, PCY

Park Chanyeol who? I only know Bang Chanyeol.

Bep. Bep. Bep. 

Hearing the doorbell ringing three times was enough for Jisoo to rise up from her slumber and wonder while she wears the nearest hoodie she could grasp. As far as she recalls, Jennie called her yesterday to tell her that she would be arriving today at eight in the morning, but right now, when Jisoo checks her phone as she walks closer to the door, it is, in fact, six in the morning, so who could it be?

Jisoo sighs from the thought, growing confused and confused as she opens the door only to find a colored white envelope with a flower, more specifically, a rose attached to it. 

The raven-haired woman blinked.Not again. She thought as she bent down to pick it with her hand. She has been getting love letters these past months, but with a flower attached to it? That's a first. 

No one has ever given her flowers, more specifically a rose, which is her favorite flower. Not even Jinyoung from Class C, who asked her to be his prom date last year, nor from anyone during Valentine's day. And even if someone dares to give her a flower, they would always avoid the rose as their reason would always be; a rose is an overrated flower.

And receiving a rose, especially from a secret admirer, intrigues Jisoo, but at the same time, it makes her wonder in circles.

How did they know she adores roses? 

The brunette shakes her thoughts away. It could be a coincidence, that maybe this secret admirer of hers also admires roses just like her and just sent her one for fun. 

Jisoo sighs at the thought before she detaches the envelope.

Hi Soo :>

I've been noticing lately that you seem troubled and down. I know it's going to be stupid of me to ask, but are you okay? I know it must be tough, but I believe that you can surpass that. 

Anyways! I heard you got a quiz today, I'm sure you're going to be fine. You've worked hard on it, and hard work never betrays.

Bye! :>

Ps. I've heard you adore roses, so I hope this rose will give you happy luck :P

Love, PCY

Jisoo blinks and if someone ever saw her at this moment, she would look like an idiotic gaping fish. The raven quickly stuffed the letter into her hoodie pocket, peeking her head around the doorframe to check for any crumb traces of her secret admirer from left to right. Unfortunately, the raven doesn't find any, and so she sends a quick text to none other than her roommate slash best friend, Jennie.

Code: You better hide your girlfriend and yourself or else I'll have to whop both of your asses back to New Zealand for selling me out!

///

"Look, for the last time. I told you, It's not me. " Jennie says, rolling her eyes at her best friend's sudden accusation.

Jisoo huffs, throws her back at her seat, and crosses her arms, "Then who?"

"I don't know, okay? But one thing for sure is I didn't sell you out. And also, why would I even do that? It's not like the fact that you liked Roses would create a sudden miracle like it'll fix the Global Warming problems or something. " The brunette murmurs, taking a bite on her chicken salad.

"Good point." Jisoo says, before she turns her head at the other figure, who is surprisingly eating her food quietly.

Lisa, who noticed the raven-haired girl's sudden look. She scrunched her nose in confusion before she locked her eyes at the raven, "What?"

"How about you Lis? Would you sell me out for free cat food?"

"...Is that a trick question?"

"No,"

"...If it means raising my babies, then I would not hesitate."

"So it was you!" Jisoo whispered loudly enough for the three to hear, squinting her eyes in suspicion at Lisa.

"What!" Lisa widens her eyes before she furrows both of her eyebrows as she turns her head at her girlfriend for help, but her girlfriend, Jennie, shrugs it off as she continues to eat her chicken salad like there is no scene in front of her.

Lisa could only blink helplessly at her girlfriend before she glanced back at the accuser, "Look, It's not me. No one has made an offer to me like that."

"But you would sell me out if someone offered you that offer."

"I would... but! The most important thing is I didn't sell you out, so..." Lisa shifts her eyes, praying the accuser's eyes would leave her alone.

Seeing the uneasiness of her friend, Jisoo sighs guilty as she throws her back on her seat in defeat before muttering a sincere apology to her friends.

Just how the hell did her secret admirer know about her admiration for the roses?

"Anyway, if they knew about your favorite, that would probably mean they are stalking you or perhaps, it's just someone who happens to know about it." Jennie says, bringing back Jisoo to reality.

"Probably." Lisa agrees, cutting her lasagna in half and placing the other half on Jisoo's plate.

It's true that her secret admirer could be a stalker because she hasn't mentioned to anyone that she adores roses except her best friends, but if her secret admirer is a stalker, how did they know she adores roses when she hasn't given any hints or been subtle about it? Are they watching her? That's kind of creepy...

Before Jisoo knew, she was already sighing and rubbing her forehead in confusion unconsciously and that didn't go unnoticed by her two friends who glanced at each other helplessly.

"Didn't you say about their initials? Maybe we can help you by starting to find out with someone with the same initials as them." Jennie offers, tapping her friend's arm.

"Yeah, maybe we can." Lisa joins.

Jisoo purses her lips, looking at her two friends' eyes before she thinks about the letter.

"I think it was PCY or something-"

Before Jisoo could speak anything further, she was cut off by a continuous choking sound from the opposite seat. Jennie, who was beside Lisa, looked alarmed, and tried to pat the Thai's back, hardly enough for Lisa to come back from her normal state.

"Eat slowly, you idiot!" Jisoo hisses, offering Lisa a water, who immediately takes it without hesitation.

"...Thank you for pulling my leg from Heaven," Lisa says, panting as she offers a peace sign at the two before faking a cough, "Anyway, continue."

"Eat slowly next time, you idiot."

"Yes ma'am!"

Jennie sighs at the silliness of her girlfriend before turning her head at Jisoo, who's eyes lingered on Lisa and fakes a cough to earn the attention of her friend.

"Anyway, as far as I can remember, there is only one person who owns that initial."

Surprised by the new found information, Jisoo widens her eyes as her eyes start to twinkle in hope like the stars that can be seen in the night.

"Really?"

"Man, you really need to step out from your cave." Lisa comments, reaching out her fork to the raven's plate for the chicken nuggets.

Jisoo rolls her eyes at the Thai before she focuses her eyes at the owner of the feline eyes whose lips are sealed.

"Who?"

"Before I answer, I have a question. What are you going to do after you find out who's behind the letter?"

Jisoo gives a narrow look at the brunette before it turns to try to identify what is behind those feline eyes. That was probably the stupidest question she had ever gotten from Jennie, because it was really obvious what she was about to do, but she was going to stop herself from actually voicing it out. It looked like Jennie was serious enough about the question, so Jisoo is going to give a serious answer to her best friend.

"You both knew that I fancied Roseanne from the beginning and also, it wouldn't be fair for them to lead them to an idea that I have reciprocated their feelings, so I want to reject them properly before it gets out of hand." 

If there is one thing anyone should know about Jisoo, it would be that Jisoo's mouth forms words faster than her brain. It was true though. What she said to Jennie was completely pure honesty.

Jisoo was in love with Roseanne and has been pursuing the strawberry blonde since they were in kindergarten. Despite the fact that Roseanne had shown no signs of reciprocating Jisoo's feelings over the years, the raven haired was hurt, but she wasn't giving up on Roseanne. And it is one of Jisoo's principles to never entertain anyone, even if it's a chicken in the form of a human when she's pursuing the woman she loves. 

"Don't worry, Chu. You and my step-sister already got my blessings." Lisa teased, enjoying the flustered side of Jisoo.

"Shut up." Jisoo hisses, trying to look away to prevent her friends from seeing her pink tainted cheeks.

Jennie knew it was a stupid question to ask, but she only smiled because she was pleased with the raven-haired's perseverance in pursuing her Aussie friend slash co-captain.

"Anyway, Park Chanyeol is the captain of the soccer team. If you want, I can ask him to meet you after practice." Jisoo gave a puzzled look at Jennie.

"Chanyeol? I thought that guy was a Bang." Lisa laughs.

"Bang Chan and Park Chanyeol are two different people, Chu."

"Oh,"

. . .

"Oh!"

And that's how Jisoo ended up standing alone beside the bench. She was uneasy about the stares she was getting from everyone, but she held her ground tightly and hoped that Chanyeol would just show up now.

Today was the day. The day Jisoo is going to end it all.

If Jisoo was any other girl, Chanyeol would definitely be the man of her dreams. Chanyeol was a nice guy, despite the stereotypes of the jocks Jisoo sees in the books, he was not like that. He was, in fact, the opposite. He was nice, rich, and handsome. In short, he was every woman's standard, but Jisoo wasn't any other girl. It may be an advance thinking, but Jisoo couldn't just imagine herself to be in that man's arms. 

She couldn't see a future where Chanyeol was her spouse.

"Jisoo?" Hearing a familiar feminine voice was enough for Jisoo to bring herself to reality. Turning her heels, Jisoo's eyes immediately locked with the owner of the voice, the head cheerleader, Park Roseanne.

"Rosie." Jisoo says, shrinking from her position and flashing a smile that she hopes isn't idiotic or awkward, but that was probably the most awkward and idiotic smile she's ever plastered, given that her facial expression will always betray her brain.

Great. Another embarrassing moment to recall before falling asleep. Just great. 

Her cheeks burning more in embarrassment, Jisoo bit down her lower lip to suppress her embarrassment and looked up when she heard a cute giggle coming from Rosé.

Did Rosé just laugh? Her ears must be playing with her imagination, but Jisoo has come to the conclusion that it wasn't an imagination when she sees Roseanne trying to hide her smile with the back of her hand. Just how could anyone be this gorgeous?

"Sorry, it's just you're adorable," Roseanne says, biting her lower lip to keep her smile from turning into laughter.

Not having a comeback to that, Jisoo didn't speak any further, and just sealed her lips as she had no trust in her lips. If God isn't going to save her from embarrassment and looking like an idiotic woman to her future wife, then she must step up and do the deed.

Roseanne fakes a cough to ease the tension between them after receiving no response from the raven-haired.

"So what made you come here? If you're looking for Jennie, I think she left with my sister a while ago."

"Oh, I'm not actually here for Jen... I'm here for someone." Roseanne's gaze narrowed at the raven-haired.

"Who?"

The raven-haired woman opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by a baritone voice behind their back.

"Hey Kim, you were looking for me?"

Immediately turning both of their heels, Jisoo’s eyes were still lingering on Roseanne even though her body was facing Chanyeol. She couldn't help, but catch a glimpse of disappointment in Roseanne's facial features. Although she is perplexed as to why, the raven haired girl did not dare to ask any questions as she locked her gaze on Chanyeol.

"Well, looks like that's my cue to leave now. Bye Park. Bye Soo." And with that, before Jisoo could bid her goodbyes to the cheerleader, the cheerleader was swift enough to disappear like dust blown by the wind.

Chanyeol furrows both of his eyebrows from that, confused by the slight change of tone of the cheerleader, and glances up at Jisoo, who had a longing look at where the cheerleader disappeared to.

Clearly, there is something weird going on, but Chanyeol decides to shrug it off. Thinking it was none of his business. He snaps a finger in front of Jisoo and from that, Jisoo is immediately brought back to reality. She muttered a small apology at the soccer captain right away.

"It's alright, Kim. Anyway, Jennie told me you were asking for me. What's up?" He asks, innocently smiling.

Chanyeol could tell the raven-haired woman in front of him was hesitant and uneasy where she was standing just by looking at her, but Chanyeol didn't say anything as he patiently waited. It must be that kind of serious for Kim to be this way.

The raven took something from her pocket and once she grasped it, she hesitantly stuck it out for Chanyeol to look at and accept. 

The soccer captain took it, though he was perplexed by what the raven-haired woman gave to him. His gaze lingered on the letter, still perplexed, and in the hope of finding answers, he returned his gaze to the raven haired, only to find Jisoo looking at him apologetically. No one dared to speak between them and just when Chanyeol was about to speak, Jisoo beat him to it.

"Look, Chanyeol... If I was any other girl or any person, I would really accept your confession. You're great and all, but I-"

Jisoo was still speaking, but the soccer captain didn't hear any words escaping from her lips as he focused on himself, trying to process everything that the raven haired had spoken to him. 

"Hold on, hold on, hold on," Chanyeol chants, cutting Jisoo off, "You think this is me?" He says, pointing at himself, then at the letter back and forth. He looked at Jisoo in bewilderment.

"Who else?" Chanyeol laughs awkwardly, blinking rapidly; a habit he does when he doesn't know what to do or respond.

"Look... dude, I like you, but as friends. And this? I didn't write this. Though, I really think you got the wrong person." He says, explaining from one to ten to the raven haired.

As Chanyeol ran his mouth to speak, the raven haired was the opposite. She was quiet as she processed everything the soccer captain had said to her.

"So you're saying that you're not the person behind the letter?"

"Yes!" Chanyeol yells, his eyes bright, but falters when he leans forward to whisper. Jisoo didn't move as she freely let Chanyeol do his thing.

"I mean, I thought the word had spread that I'm dating Baekhyun?" He whispered.

Surprised, Jisoo blinks at the newfound formation from the soccer captain, but at the same time, embarrassment starts to crawl up from her toes up to her spine when realization hit her like a bus.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I thought you were them!" Jisoo says, wishing the ground would just eat her alive in an instant. 

"It's okay, man. I mean, if I were in your shoes, I'd suspect myself because a secret admirer of yours has the same initials as mine." Chanyeol chuckles, trying to ease the embarrassment, but it looked like the embarrassment was too big for Chanyeol to ease.

The raven haired was still muttering endless apologies and it looked like she didn't have any plans to stop. Thankfully, Chanyeol actually stopped her on her ninth apology with a reassuring smile.

"Really, it's okay Kim. Let's just pretend we didn't meet today, alright?"

Jisoo nodded, still wishing the ground would eat her alive. Although she appreciated the soccer captain's efforts to alleviate her embarrassment, it wasn't enough; after all, who wouldn't be dying of embarrassment if they were mistaken for their secret admirer? If asked, Jisoo would fight anyone to say it isn't that embarrassing.

Before Jisoo could actually drown herself with thoughts, a soft anime song echoed between them and, from the looks of it, it came from Chanyeol's pocket.

"Crap! I forgot I was gonna have a study session in the library with Hyun! I should go now Kim. See you around!" Patting Jisoo's shoulder, the soccer captain didn't waste a second as he sprinted off to meet his boyfriend, leaving Jisoo alone standing to rethink her choices in life.

This secret admirer of her has been driving her nuts, making her walk circles, and Jisoo could only sigh in frustration before she rubbed her forehead. 

If it's not Chanyeol, then who?

///

Jisoo woke up frowning when she felt like a nail drilling slowly into her head, slowly torturing her brain. Where was she again? Oh right, she was at Lisa’s house along with Jennie. Just what came into her mind to come along with Jennie into Lisa's house with a bottle of wine? As she sat up with a groan, the raven-haired woman is slowly regretting her decision.

Hearing a soft groan at her side, Jisoo turned her head only to find out Jennie was still in her slumber. Like a burrito, the feline eye tightly held the pillow as she snuggled closer to it. Jisoo could only chuckle at the sight before she felt the nail drilling continuously on her head again.

She needs a hangover soup and medicine to ease her throbbing head. Call her overreacting, but Jisoo might actually die from the throbbing pain she feels in her head. Curse you Dionysus!

As a result, the raven-haired woman moved, sauntering her way downstairs. The scent of something good was the first thing she smelt, so she walked faster, hoping Lisa would immediately feed her with soup, and peek her head right through the door frame.

When she did, Jisoo could only purse her lips and blink at the two figures standing in the kitchen.

It was Lisa and Roseanne together in the kitchen.

It looked like the two of them were talking about something serious and Jisoo, who respected privacy, attempted to walk away, but before she could fully walk away. She freezes in her position, widening her eyes when she spots Hank, Roseanne's dog not so far away from them.

Based on the interactions she had with Hank every time she visited Lisa along with Jennie. Hank was a very energetic dog, but only to people he found comfortable with. And it looked like Jisoo's luck ran out in time when she noticed Hank's ears starting to perk up, his eyes starting to light up like fire when he spotted one of the humans he finds comfortable with. 

To Jisoo's horror, Hank immediately ran up to her arms, and just when Hank was about to bark and lick Jisoo's cheeks. The raven swiftly reaches out her hand up to his mouth to shut him off. Just when will the Gods bless Jisoo with good luck?

"So where were you? I didn't know you're into getting up early in the morning now," Lisa asks, the sizzling noise still present, but Jisoo could just hear them fine.

"I... Uhm, I had an errand to do before class, so yeah,"

"Really?"

"Yeah."

There was a brief silence for a while and even though Jisoo didn't actually witness them physically talking, she could already tell Roseanne was kind of anxious, uneasy, but Lisa, on the other hand, was calm as she spoke. Different from Roseanne's odd behaviour.

And just when Jisoo was about to step up and interrupt the conversation to save the love of her life from spilling where she came from, Lisa blurted out her question that made Jisoo and Roseanne caught off guard at the same time.

"Do you have a crush on her?" 

It was just a sentence, but that sentence was enough for Jisoo's heart to pound like a speaker at full volume, blasting like there is no tomorrow around the neighbourhood. Although the raven haired was anticipating the strawberry blonde's response, she felt as if her heart was being pinched with pliers while she waited. It's not going to be her, isn't it?

"I don't know what you're talking about, Lis."

"Oh, come on! I know you're behind those letters, Chaeyoung." Jisoo could only furrow her eyebrows in puzzlement at the name Lisa called her step-sister.

"I... I don't know what letters you are talking about." 

"Right. I totally didn't see your ears go red just now. Seriously, just admit that you have a big fat crush on her, you dummy."

Roseanne responds with a nervous laugh, opening her mouth to speak another lie, but stopped mid-way when Lisa locked her eyes with her. The Thai's eyes practically scream that if she's going to throw a half-baked lie at Lisa, she's throwing the strawberry blonde's ass back to Melbourne, Australia.

"Alright, fine! I have a crush on Jisoo!" Roseanne hisses, sounding a little bit annoyed at what she has admitted, but her expression totally betrayed her as she felt her blood crawling up to her cheeks, making her look like a tomato ready for ripping.

"See? It's not that bad to admit that you like Jisoo." Jisoo could practically hear Lisa smirking.

"You better not tell her or else,." Lisa laughs at the threat.

"Alright, okay."

"And also, how did you even find out?"

"That is a very dumb question coming from a genius like you, Park Chaeyoung."

"Nevermind."

Jisoo could hear Lisa laugh once again, "Wake up Jennie for me, okay? Don't forget your girlfriend as well."

"Ugh, shut up." Roseanne hisses softly, blushing at the Thai's teasing.

As the footsteps start to fade from the background. Jisoo doesn't hear anything further aside from the sizzling sound that was made. And before the raven-haired could realize it, Hank took advantage of the opportunity to summon all of his strength and break free from her embrace.

Jisoo cursed under her breath as she tries to get Hank back into her arms, but unfortunately fails as Hank makes his way to the stairs as he wags his tail, and Jisoo guesses he’s probably going to crawl back into Roseanne’s arms upstairs.

"My, I didn't know you were the type to eavesdrop, Chu."

Jisoo yelped, like a kid caught red-handed, Jisoo widens her eyes caught in action as she helplessly looks up from the floor only to meet Lisa's teasing eyes.

No words escaped the raven's mouth, so she remained silent, and Lisa took advantage of the opportunity to continue with her teasing smile growing with each passing second.

"So, is it safe for me to assume that you have found out who's behind the letter?"

///

Jisoo woke up staring at her ceiling. There was nothing interesting happening in the ceiling, but somehow Jisoo finds the entertainment of staring at the ceiling as thoughts run through her mind.

It's not an everyday scene to find out your secret admirer is actually the person you have been crushing on since kindergarten, so Jisoo took her time to stare at the ceiling. Processing every detail that happened yesterday.

How the hell did she not notice it before? More importantly, just how the heck did she forget that the strawberry blonde has a Korean name? Sure, she had heard Lisa mentioning that name before, although the raven haired didn't know where and when, but Jisoo was really clueless and thought Roseanne and Chaeyoung were two different people. Oh god, she was so stupid that she didn’t realize Roseanne and Chaeyoung were one person.

Jisoo sighed before she hid her face under the pillow, screaming in embarrassment before it turned into giggles and squeals.

Roseanne likes her.

Chaeyoung likes her.

Now she has found out that her crush also felt the same. Just how the heck is she going to normally face Chaeyoung now? More importantly, how is she going to catch Chaeyoung red-handed?

/// 

The next morning, Jisoo simply woke up to another letter in her locker. This time, there were no flowers, but the letter was enough for Jisoo to brighten up her day, brighter than the sun. 

The letter was nothing special, but the words that Chaeyoung sincerely wrote for Jisoo were enough to make the raven haired girl's heart race erratically at the thought of the blonde.

"Man, my sister's effect must be that bad to immediately put a smile on your face after Dalgom ate your chicken like a while ago." Jisoo laughs, rolling her eyes as she does.

"Oh shut up, Lis." Lisa snickered before widening her eyes for a split second and pulling out her phone.

"Oh right, can we switch places tonight? I have a surprise for Jennie, and I kind of need you to get out of the dorm." 

"Please don't do it in my bedroom." Feeling a fresh sharp pain in her shoulder, Jisoo whines as she glares at Lisa, who only blushed.

"I’m telling Rosie that you’re hurting me physically." Jisoo threatens, pouting as she rubs at where Lisa struck her.

"W-We're not doing that you idiot! I just want to spend some alone time with my girlfriend." Jisoo snorts at that before she recalls the memory of one time she walked in to them having an intimate moment on the couch.

Although she feels bad for teasing, Jisoo just couldn't let the teasing chance pass through. She scarcely had any comeback to throw at them during the teasing war, so now she's had it. She's not going to hold it back.

"Okay, fine, but just make sure you guys feed Dalgom there, alright." 

"Great! You can stay with my sister tonight."

Jisoo widens her eyes at that, "What? No!"

"Oh come on, Chu. You're not going to avoid my sister forever. And also, don't act like I didn't catch you smiling at the letters. You guys totally need to talk." Lisa says with a smirk on her lips.

"And also, don't worry about food. Chaeyoung is a great cook, I'm sure she's going to fill your stomach." And before Jisoo could utter a word, Lisa winked at her before sprinting away.

Did Lisa just set her up on a date with her sister at their own house?

///

"Here you go, Princess." Jisoo beamed, pride evident in her voice as Chaeyoung softly laughed at the content that Jisoo had presented to her.

"I made you the finest bowl of Fruit Loops that I could find in your cupboard." She said, which made Chaeyoung snicker, hiding the laugh beneath her lips.

"How did you even find this? I didn't even know we had one of these." She says, glancing at the Fruit Loops, then turns her gaze at the proud eyes owned by the raven.

"Well, I have my ways." Jisoo says, confidently, and flips her hair as she does. Chaeyoung scoffed at that, her lips curling into a smile afterwards.

"Idiot." She whispered under her breath.

Jisoo only flashed a lopsided grin before she sat opposite where Chaeyoung sat. The raven didn't really remember how both of them ended up having Fruit Loops as their dinner for the evening, but from the looks of it. It looked like Chaeyoung seemed to like it. She even offered a bite to Jisoo, which doesn’t make sense, because they’re both eating fruit loops, but Jisoo accepted heartedly, and blushed when realization hit her afterwards.

That was an indirect kiss, wasn't it...

Jisoo knew she wasn't supposed to make a big deal out of this, but she couldn't help it. It seemed like the blonde didn't notice and was even confused when her eyes landed on the blushing raven.

"What's wrong?" She asks, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

"N-nothing..." Jisoo replies, looking away to prevent being seen with blushing cheeks.

Chaeyoung knew it wasn't just something, but when she glanced down at her spoon then at Jisoo back and forth. She widened her eyes for a split second before she turned to look at the raven who had been blushing.

"Oh..." The blonde muttered, smiling as she looked away.

There was a brief silence between them until Jisoo decided to break the cold ice with a fake cough. Being silent won’t get them anywhere, so she starts.

"I don't think Lisa is coming home this evening." She says, trying to lock her eyes with the blonde to ease the tension between them.

"Yeah."

"When will Mrs. Manoban and Mr. Manoban come home? It's been a long time since I last saw them." It was out of the blue, but that was the only thing Jisoo had in her mind to blurt out.

"I think Mom and Dad will be back around July? I don't actually know. They often change it. They miss you, ya know." Jisoo blushes at that, fluttering.

"Well, tell them next time that I miss them too." Jisoo beams, giggling as she does. Chaeyoung does the same, taking a bite of her Fruit Loops.

"How was your day, Soo?" She asks and, without hesitation, Jisoo immediately tells her what had happened during the history class, making Chaeyoung burst into soft laughter after learning Lisa fell down all of a sudden on her seat.

"So that's why she was whining about it and asking me to massage her back." Jisoo hummed at that, her smile still present.

"Your sister is kind of clumsy. She takes after you."

"Hey! I'm not clumsy," Jisoo laughs at that.

"Yeah sure, Princess."

"I'm really not!" Chaeyoung narrowed her eyes at the raven.

For a split second, if Jisoo didn't know Chaeyoung better, she would have thought Chaeyoung was annoyed by her, but when she saw the smile crawling into the blonde's plump lips, Jisoo knew it was nothing serious.

"How was your day?" Jisoo inquires, her gaze still locked on the blonde's.

"Nothing is interesting in my day, Soo."

"Well, I am, so come on. Tell me your day, clumsy dude." Chaeyoung burst out laughing as she heard this.

"Did you just call me a clumsy dude?"

"I did. Do you have a problem with that, clumsy dude?" Chaeyoung chuckles, rolling her eyes at the raven.

"Okay, chicken dude." She murmured, making Jisoo chuckle as she narrowed her eyes teasingly at Chaeyoung.

Cheayoung then starts to speak about her day, starting from the cheerleading practice to the end of the day. Of course, Jisoo was listening very well, laughing at the things Chaeyoung explained about what happened in the class that made Ms. Lee mad. 

Jisoo knew she had to seize this opportunity. And Jisoo knew better that it was better to not underestimate Lisa, so she mustered up the courage. If no one is going to speak, then she'll take the lead.

"See? It's interesting to hear about your day. And by the way, thanks for the flowers and letters, Chaeyoung."

"You're welcome, Soo."

Jisoo smiled. Chaeyoung freezes after picking it up.

"I... uhm... I-" Chaeyoung looked down, trying to find an explanation as anxiety and fear started to crawl up into her spine.

"It's okay, Chae. I know." Jisoo murmurs, smiling as her eyes never leave Chaeyoung.

"...What?"

Jisoo blushes again, this time a little brighter, but she's not going to back down from her confession or keep quiet about it. Not when she literally just started, and she has no plans to end it until she says it.

"I am in love with you too, silly."

And that sentence was enough for Chaeyoung to blink as she processed everything. All this time, she thought it was platonic, but it was not? Oh my god. Oh my god.

"You still remember it, right? I mean, it would be so awkward if you didn't, but if you want me to remind you of the first letter you told me, in which you told me you love me and-"

"You're in love with me?" 

Jisoo smiled a little although she was in a blushing mess, but she didn't care. She reached out to take Chaeyoung's hand on hers as she looked at her in the eyes full of sincerity.

"I am. I am in love with you, Chaeyoung."

Chaeyoung flashes a quivering smile when she hears that. And Jisoo couldn't help, but to panic when she saw tears starting to form in the blonde's eyes. She instinctively stood up from her seat and sat down beside the girl to comfort her.

"Oh shit. I mean, I totally said I'm in love with you instead of I'm not, but oh my god, don't cry please. I'm sorry. Please don't cry." Jisoo says, cupping Chaeyoung's cheeks into her palms and starts to wipe the tears. 

"I thought I was gonna lose you." Chaeyoung whispered, also trying to wipe her tears.

"Well, for a second thought. I also thought I was gonna lose you. You scared me silly!" 

Chaeyoung laughs at that, tears still present in her cheeks before she reaches out to cup the brunette's cheeks and does the impossible.

Jisoo widens her eyes in shock, feeling the plump lips pressed against her. Chaeyoung's lips were sweet, although a little bit salty, because of the tears, but nonetheless. It was the sweetest thing Jisoo had ever tasted. Regaining and finally absorbing what was happening, Jisoo instinctively circled her arms around the blonde, and kissed her back as she poured out all of her feelings with closed eyes. 

She could feel the blonde smiling between their kiss and when the oxygen became an issue. They broke it off before they shared a loud laugh with happiness. They must have been that dumb and dense for not realizing they have been in love with each other for years.

"So does that mean we're girlfriends now?" Chaeyoung asked, now leaning into Jisoo's shoulders as she played with the raven's hand.

"Well, you still haven't asked me, so I guess not?" Jisoo replies, leaning as well on Chaeyoung.

"Then ask me, silly."

"Why me?"

"Why not you?"

"Ask me out."

"No, you ask me out."

"Is this going to be our first love quarrel?"

"It’s not if you’re not going to ask me out."

"Touché."

Chaeyoung laughed and Jisoo smiled before she faked a cough and properly positioned herself, turning her head at Chaeyoung as she held her hand closer.

"Okay, since we're both very stubborn and you're being cute, which is very lucky of you. I'll do the asking then," Jisoo says, earning a slap on her shoulder as Chaeyoung laughs at her. She pouts, before she continues with a smile, "Will you be my-"

"Yes." Jisoo laughs at that.

"Do you even know what I was going to ask?" She teased.

"Oh I know you're going to ask me to be your girlfriend, Soo." 

"What if I ask you to be my mega bestfriend instead of being my girlfriend?"

"Oh shut up, simp. You love me." Jisoo laughs at the name.

"Okay, mega best friend who has a huge crush on me."

[fxkthatdairy]

PANIC ROOM CHAPTER FOUR: DUSK TILL DAWN ~Grayson Dolan

Overview: Overview- In the year 2020, to solve the problem of overpopulation. Selected few are thrown into the PANIC ROOM simulation. If the person finds their soulmate in the simulator and manages to survive, they are able to rejoin the rest of the population. If they fail they will become a victim of the PANIC ROOM. What happens when (Y/N) gets thrown in the PANIC ROOM? Will she survive? Or will she fall victim to the simulation?

Warnings: severe angst, violence (epilepsy warning for the photo ⚠️) Heavy language, slight mentions of almost rape

I was running, running like my life depended on it. Grayson was behind me, but I still don’t know why I was running. My heart pounded inside my chest and fear was filled throughout my whole body. Whatever we were running from was definitely life-threatening.

“(Y/N) Turn to the cave! We’ll be safe there!” Grayson yelled as he spotted a cave up ahead. I took a hard right running deep into the cave before stopping. I placed my hand against the wall and attempted to catch my breath. Grayson walked in and slumped against the cave walls as well to try and catch his breath. He walked over and placed his hands on my shoulder to center me.

“I think we’re saf-“ he didn’t even get to finish his sentence when a knife penetrated through his heart. Blood began pouring everywhere, his body went limp and fell to the floor. Whatever or whoever did this was long gone now. I fell to the floor holding him, the tears were flowing from my eyes as I tried to stop the blood from flowing. My hands became stained with blood and his eyes and skin began to lose their color and life.

“ No no no no, this is not how it’s supposed to be Gray, please come back, don’t die on me, I fucking love you, we have so much to do please Gray please come back,” I said through sobs as he took his final breath. I let out a loud sob and threw myself over his body.

I shot straight up from my sleep. My body was sweating, tears were flooding down from my eyes, and I was shaking badly. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath because I was hyperventilating.

“Hey, hey (Y/n) I’m here, calm down. It was probably just a bad dream.” Grayson crawled over and wrapped me in his strong arms. He was here, he was alive, it was all a dream. He didn’t die but I still felt the emotions of as he were dead.

“Gray, don’t leave me, please. Don’t die, I can’t lose you, God I need you Gray, Please don’t die.” I said through silent sobs. I held onto him tightly not wanting him to slip away. I needed to know he was safe and alive.

“(Y/N) I’m not going anywhere. I’m here with you now. You’ve got me for life. I promise you we are going to get the hell out of here alive. Nobody is dying on my watch. I’ll never fucking leave you (y/n/n).” He said and held me tightly knowing I needed the reassurance at this moment in time. He smelt like teakwood with hints of woodsy smells. I never realized how good he smelt until now or how warm his body was or how strong he truly was. The more I took every part of him in, the calmer I seemed to get. My body stopped shaking, the tears slowly began to stop, my breathing returned back to normal and my body seemed to relax and feel tired.

“Gray, please lay with me and hold me. I need you to physically be with me so I know you’re safe while I sleep please.” I said and buried my face into his shoulder.

“(Y/N) I have to be on guard.” He said and held me even tighter.

“I know Gray, just hold me until I fall asleep. You can still keep guard, I just need you with me right now.” I said. He nodded and laid me down. He wrapped his arms tightly around me and pulled me into his side. He stroked my side gently. I could hear his steady heartbeat which sounded like a natural lullaby and it slowly helped me go to sleep. My body totally relaxed and I was able to sleep knowing the man I truly love was alive next to me.

When I woke up, it was barely light outside. Grayson was sitting by the tent door gazing at me. He had drifted to sleep while watching me, I didn’t blame him, this was truly exhausting. My muscles were aching, my head was pounding, and I honestly still felt tired. Nobody has found our hideout yet thank god. But to be honest we picked a very secluded area nobody would think to go. It was honestly a little chilly in the tent so I decided to crawl over to Grayson. He barely opened his eyes long enough to raise his arm so that I could snuggle into his side to try and retain his body heat. I watched the sunrise through the tent. If one) it wasn’t artificial and two) the start of a new hellish day, the sun actually caused a beautiful glow.

“You know, you look beautiful in the glow of the sun,” Grayson mumbled with his eyes slightly opened. He had one of his signature smirks on his face.

“Thank you Gray, but how would you know your eyes are closed,” I said and I let out a small laugh.

“One) I don’t have to see you know your beautiful and two) I opened my eyes for a little bit .” He said now fully opening his eyes and stretching out. He stood up, bent over and began getting things ready. We got everything and stood outside of the tent. Grayson put all of the hiding shit back on it and right around then my stomach let out a loud growl.

“Let’s go get us some food. We’re going to have to catch something from the river and cook it up.” He said as we a few miles down to the river. I sat on a rock and watched as he was watching the fish swim by, waiting for the perfect moment to throw the knife and catch the fish. He looked absolutely beautiful like an angel God had sent down from heaven. His brown hair was slightly ruffled from the way he was sleeping, his clothes fit tightly around his body in the best of ways, his tanned skin glowed in the sunlight, his angel wing earring was dangling as he kept moving his head, and that damn silver chain that hung around his neck looked sexy as hell on him.

“You know if you take a picture it lasts longer sweet cheeks.” He said with a smirk as he came back with two fairly large fish.

“If you haven’t noticed chunky butt, I don’t have anything to snap a photo with so get used to me staring at you,” I said with a laugh as I saw him try and start a tiny fire to cook the food with.

“Chunky Butt, really than your Snuggle Butt because I swear you like to cuddle and I’m not complaining. Plus I wouldn’t mind you staring at me as long as I can stare back.” He said looking at me as he sat by the small fire cooking the fish and making sure the smoke didn’t get too bad and attract attention.

“I wouldn’t mind that either as long as I still get all the cuddles in the world,” I said with a slight laugh.

“I would never deny you a cuddle, sweetcheeks. That is not in my vocabulary when it comes to you.” He said with his award-winning smile. He finished cooking the fish and cut it and brought it to me.

“Bon Appetite.” He said and dug in. I ate mines and I suddenly had more energy. It’s funny how much energy you can get from just eating.

“Thank you, Grayson, for the food. It was really good.” I said smiling.

“No problem sweet cheeks, as soon as we get out of here I’m going to show you my true culinary skills. I’m quite the chief when I have the correct equipment.” He said with a smirk and used some water to completely put out the fire. We were a few miles from our base so we decided to pack up our stuff and walk up to the base. As Grayson was packing up and making sure everything was good, I decided to go walking around to search for some more packages. That was one of the stupidest mistakes I ever made when I felt two arms grab me. One covered my mouth so that I couldn’t scream and the other pushed the barrel of a pistol into the side of my head.

“Now what is a sweet thang like you doing out here all by yourself.” The sick twisted voice spoke into my ear and I immediately knew who it was: Thomas. By now I’m pretty sure a few tears had started falling down my face and my body was shaking.

“Don’t be scare sweet thang, do what I say and I won’t hurt you maybe.” He said as he still kept the gun to my head and took his hand off my mouth.

“If you scream, I’ll kill you right here and now, if you run I’ll kill you right here and now, if you don’t listen to me I’ll kill you right here and now, do you understand me.” He said seriously and I nodded. The fear overtook my body and I prayed to God Grayson came looking for me and found me before this psychopath killed me.

“Now you’re going to be a good girl and take your shirt off for me. And then you’re going to slip off those pants off nice and slow yeah.” He said with a cruel smirk. I felt my insides cringe as my body wanted to throw up its contents. This fucking psychopath was going to use me and then kill me. The tears fell down my face as I slowly began taking my shirt off, cringing as this man was staring at my chest hidden behind my sports bra as he still had the gun pointed at me. I bent down to slowly pull my pants off leaving me in my black sports bra and black underwear. As I stood up I saw Grayson sneaking up with his gun out. Thank God, I made sure not to make any hints that Grayson was here. The tears still kept falling as my body shook. Thomas kept staring with a maniac laugh and psychopath smile. He was so distracted by my body he didn’t hear Grayson’s gun click. Grayson worded at me to dodge and the next thing I knew Thomas’s gun dropped to the ground and blood began to pull at his mouth. Life left his eyes as I kicked his gun away from him. His blood splattered all over my bare body. I let out a broken sob and almost collapsed to the ground but before I could hit the ground Grayson caught me. He picked me up as well as the rest of our stuff and walked us up to our base so that anyone who heard the noise would find Thomas and assumed he killed himself.

Another casualty: Thomas Biggerstaff the announcer spoke. My body still was covered in Thomas’s dried blood as we reached our base. I was in such a state of shock my body didn’t move, I made no facial expressions. I had finally stopped crying but I felt so empty inside. I was almost raped and murdered within the past hour and I didn’t know how to process everything. Grayson sat me down real quick so that he could drop the stuff off in the tent and then picked me right back up. He walked down to the part of the river right beside our base and sat me on another rock as he stripped down to his boxers. He picked me up and brought me into the river.

“Hey (Y/N) I know you’re scared shitless right now but I swear to god I’m going to take care or you and he’s never going to be around to hurt you again. No one will ever force you like that ever again. I’m not leaving your side from now on. I swear to god I’m going to protect you. I failed earlier but I swear I’m going to make up for it. I’m so sorry that asshole made you do those things. I’m going to wash you off now and get that bastard blood off of you. I know you don’t want to speak so please just no so I know this isn’t going past your comfort zone.” He said softly as he stroked my hair. I nodded and he began washing me off with a little body of body wash he found in my bag. He was extremely careful with every move he made so that he didn’t startle me. He made sure to get every spot of blood off of my body. I could see his self-guilt on his face. I could tell he was blaming himself for everything that happened and it killed me. I was the one who wondered off and almost got killed it’s not his fault.

“Gray, it’s not your fault. Please don’t let this eat you up. I’m here now, you saved me from that monster. I’m forever grateful for you please don’t beat yourself up over this.” I said softly but I knew he could hear me.

“I’ll try for you. I just wish I followed you. I know now I’m going to stay by your side forever.” He said as he rinsed the last area of blood off of my body. By now the sun was starting to set, so he pulled me out and dried me off.

“So I’m going to turn around but in order to keep you from getting sick overnight. I’m going to need you to take your undergarments off so they can dry. Just throw on your clothes I brought.” He said and handed me my clothes and turned away out of respect. I faced away from him knowing he needed to change as well. I stripped quickly and slipped into the clothes that Grayson handed me. When I turned around Grayson had his sweats and shirt on. He took our undergarment and hung them to dry beside our tent and made sure they were hidden. He helped me get back in the tent and I felt the exhaustion hit my body.

“Do you want me to hold you tonight?” He asked gently and pulled out covers back. I nodded my head and crawled under the blanket, Grayson following behind me. He pulled me tightly into his side and stroked my hair, face, and side gently trying to lull me to sleep. It worked as well as his calming heartbeat and comforting smell. His body heat kept my body from freezing as I drifted to sleep. When he saw that I was completely asleep he kissed the side of my head.

“I promise (Y/N), I’ll protect you for the rest of my life.” He said and stroked the side of her head. When he saw her standing there half-naked, trembling in fear, and crying with that psychopathic, cowardly excuse of a man his blood boiled. If (Y/N) wasn’t standing in the direct line of shot, he would’ve shot first and shot multiple times until the bastard was covered in bullet holes. Though he was extremely pissed, (Y/N) managed to keep him balanced. He killed the bastard simply due to the fact that the love of his life was there and he didn’t want to scare her. He loved her more than life itself. He would kill for her and he proved that. He would die for her and if she would’ve died he surely would’ve killed himself. He could never see himself living in a world without her. He began to truly believe she was his soulmate; his one and only. He fell into a light sleep so that he could still hear everything and protect his girl but he could also get some rest at the same time.

———————————————————————

Part four is done! I hope you guys enjoy this series as much as I enjoy writing it. Feel free to let me know your thoughts on how the series is going so far. As always let me know if you have any requests, concepts, or blurbs. Part five will probably be up in the next few days. Part seven of The Principals Office should be up within the next couple of days as well. Love you guys 🥺😊💛

Tags: @dolanshellyes @graysavant @graydolan12 @flowery-dolan @dolan-bliss @justordinaryjen @fandomsfeministsandothershit @dolans4lyfe @lanelessdolan @pineappledols @reblogserpent @frickin-bats @cautiouscalum

[wantstoflyafraidtofall]

Chapter 1: Afternoon Shadows

Send an ask if you want to be in the tag list for this fic!

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The car rolled up the crunchy gravel driveway and came to a slow stop in front of the house. Dean took the keys out of the ignition and turned off the radio before getting out of the car and grabbing his bags from the trunk.

The house was old and relatively large with 4 bedrooms, each with its own full bathroom. Large stone steps led up to a set polished dark oak doors, set with intricate stained glass windows. On either side of the door stretched a porch with an overhang held up by thick, sandstone composite pillars.

The wood of the porch creaked as Dean walked across it. The key easily slid into and turned the lock in the handleset knob. The door gracefully swung open to reveal a large open atrium with a library off to the left through a set of glass paned french doors and a living room to the right through a large arch.

Stairs were set in the center back of the atrium that rose to a landing before splitting in separate directions. A large crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, lighting both the entryway and hall balconies above.

Two doors were on either side of the stairs. One led down a hallway with 3 rooms--a half bath, laundry and mudroom that had a door to the back yard, and the door to the cellar. The other door led into the kitchen. The kitchen had yet another door that led into a bright sunroom with skylights and shelves set into the walls.

None of the lights in the house were on but it was beautifully lit by the natural light seeping through the windows.

Dean picked up his duffles from where he set them on the porch while unlocking the door and carried them up the stairs. He went up the right staircase and chose the room at the end of the hall.

There was already a bed in the room but other than kitchen appliances, beds, and laundry machines, the house was unfurnished. The moving truck was on its way with the rest of the furniture Dean bought for the house when he first visited it.

A rumble and crunch of gravel alerted Dean that the moving truck(speak of the devil) was here. A few young men hopped out of the truck and began pulling out the furniture. After about 20 minutes, everything had been moved into the house and placed where Dean had directed.

Boxes were stacked up in messy towers in most rooms. Dean walked into the library and opened one of the larger boxes. It was filled with books given to him throughout the years by friends and family but mostly Sam.

Dean would never admit to it, but he enjoyed a good book. Sam saw right through his lies and brought him all sorts of books.

Dean left the box open and walked over to the walnut book shelves set into the walls. He ran his fingers over the polished wood, leaving trails in the dust that had accumulated on the shelves in the absence of books.

He wiped his hand on his jeans and walked to the kitchen. Smaller brown boxes were scattered around the room on the counters and floor. He grabbed the one labeled ‘fridge’ and pulled off the tape holding it shut.

Inside the box were some magnets and a few pictures. He pulled them out one at a time. First a picture of his brother, Sammy, and his wife, Jess, sitting in the yard with their dog, Bones. A picture of Mary smiling in the afternoon sun. Pictures of His father, Bobby, Sammy, and Dean himself laughing together or fishing or fixing up a car.

After pinning all the pictures to the fridge with some magnets, he reached what he was looking for. He pulled out the pad of sticky notes and a pen-- both had magnets attached to them so they would hang on the refrigerator-- and started his To-Do list.

Dust

Unpack boxes

Groceries

Call Bobby

Dean fished his phone out of his pocket and found Bobby in his contacts, pressing the call button.

After Dean's mother died, John drowned his sorrows in alcohol. He would release Hell’s fury on Dean and Dean took it to keep Sammy safe. When Bobby found out he became his and Sam's father figure, having them move into his house and help with the cars in his shop.

Bobby picked up after 3 rings

“Hello?”

“Hey Bobby. I'm at the house, gonna start unpacking tomorrow.”

“Is everything fine down there?”

“Yup. Tell Ellen thanks for me will ya? She’s too good to me.”

“Of course and we will do anything for ya idjits.”

“You said she got this house from a relative in their will right?”

“Sure did. Her great aunt left a little somethin’ to all her great nieces and nephews. She really loved Ellen so she gave her the house but only bits of her money to the rest.”

“Well it's damn lucky she has such a good family and that you and her got each other. I've gotta head out and get some food before I starve to death in this place. Thanks again, Bobby.”

“No problem, and Dean, take care of yourself.”

Dean ended the call, placing his phone on the counter with a sigh. As soon as he moved to go get his keys, his phone began to ring again. He looked at the screen name and answered.

“Hiya Sammy. Calling to check up on me?”

“Yes and No. I actually have a… favor to ask.”

Dean paused for a moment, wondering what kind of favor was making his brother so nervous to ask him about before replying. “Whatcha need?”

“I have a friend who just finished college and is out of a house. He is near your area and that house is big enough to fit the both of you so would it be ok if he stayed there till he finds a decent apartment?”

Dean never keeps people close in fear of becoming too attached and losing them or being hurt by them. He has such a burden -- courtesy of his father --  that people who become too close to him have to help bear. But it's not like this friend of Sams is going to be staying that long and Sams right, the house is big. If Deans being honest, the house was a bit lonely and it would be nice to not be alone. Maybe it won't be so bad to have another warm body in the house.

“Sure thing, Sammy. Can you, uh, tell me who he is and when he’s coming?”

“That's great! His name is Castiel Novak and he will be coming in about three days. He’s nice and quiet and won’t bother you much. You need some more people in that big house anyway you will get lonely and depre-”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, don’t make me take back my choice.” Dean grumbled.

“Ok, I'll tell him. Make sure you clean up a bit before he gets there.”

“Don't worry mom, I can take care of myself.”

Dean hung up the phone for a second time and decided to put it in his pocket in case anyone else wants to bother him on his grocery run. He should get extra food for this Castiel guy. Odd name, huh?

He grabs the keys of a box sitting in the entryway and locks the large doors behind him before almost bouncing down the steps to his car.

Deans Black 1967 Chevy Impala had been left with Bobby at his shop while Dean moved. Baby is Dean's pride and joy. They way her engine purrs when he rides down the street and Led Zeppelin blasting through her speakers filled him with joy.

The ride to the store was short and there weren't any people in the small building other than himself and a rather bored looking cashier. He grabbed all of the food he needed for the next few days and a six-pack of beer and put them in his cart.

The cashier began to scan his items, glancing up at his face a few times before asking, “I've never seen you around before, are you moving into the old Fletcher house?”

“Uh, yeah. I am.”

The kashier -- kevin according to his nametag -- nodded as he finished scanning the items.

“Im Kevin, by the way,” The cashier looked back up at Dean and held out his hand.

“Dean,” He said before shaking his hand, “You look a bit young to be a year round employee, are you in school?”

“I'm in advanced placement at the college a few towns over.”

“Well nice to meetcha Kevin.”

“Uh huh, yup. Have a nice night, here’s your card.” He handed back Dean’s card before going back to looking extremely bored.

Dean loaded the groceries in the trunk and drove back to the Fletcher House, as Kevin had called it, the gravel crackling under Baby’s tires.

By the time Dean finished unloading the groceries and eating his extravagant dinner consisting of cereal and some beer when he was done, it was already 9:30. He sighed and went upstairs to his room to get ready for bed.

He changed his shirt and boxers for a clean pair and threw his dirty clothes over in the corner by a dresser Sam got him when he decided to get his own house. He had been living with Sam and his girlfriend Jess ever since he got his knee shot and was deemed “unfit for duty”.

Dean was in the military for 5 years as a Marine, just like his father, until he got hit with a bullet right in his knee while deployed. It never healed properly causing him to have a weak knee and enough reason to be sent home.

The bathroom was large with a white tiled floor and shower. The sink was set in the center of the granite counter top in front of a large, frameless, mirror.

Dean turned the water on and wetted his toothbrush before putting a decent sized glob of toothpaste on it. He brushed his teeth and spit out the minty foam. He turned the water back on and watched as the water washed the used toothpaste down the drain.

He looked up at the mirror, still bent over the sink. Standing in the doorway was a dark, shadowy figure. Dean whipped around to face the shadow but the door was empty. He turned back to the mirror, the doorway still empty, and rinsed of his toothbrush and set it on the counter.

Dean walked over to his bed and curled up under the duvet. He really needs to sleep more, he needs to get himself together before his housemate gets here. Castiel . This guy sounds like he’s going to be a little stuck up but it’s only temporary and even bad company is better than none.

He fell asleep. Unaware of the shadow watching him from the corner of the room.

[elphenfan]

Grooming (Good Omens) 1/7

Sequel to 'Nesting'

As new nestmates, there's a few things that need to be navigated for Crowley and Aziraphale, even though so many things are the same. One of them is the ritual of grooming that is done between nestmates.

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Nothing had changed. Well, obviously, things had changed, quite significantly, even; they were now nestmates, honest-to-goodness nestmates, and there was no changing that. They’d promised themselves and each other that. No matter what happened, they would not give up on each other.

That being said, neither of them could help feeling apprehensive, to put it incredibly mildly. This wasn’t a case of a pair of teenagers disobeying their parents by being together. Well, perhaps there was an element of that, what with the role of Heaven and Hell and everything, but the penalty was rather more severe. It was like comparing a lighter to a star. Technically, they were both burning, but beyond that, there wasn’t much to compare with.

But as the days became weeks, and there still wasn’t so much as an increase in assignments or the amount of paperwork they had to deal with, Crowley couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief – while simultaneously feeling even more tense.

This couldn’t be right. They had to know. Somehow, they would have to know, so why wasn’t anything happening?

Another part of his brain argued that well, they’d kept their Arrangement a secret for almost a thousand years by this point, without either side suspecting a single thing. If they had, neither of them would’ve been able to carry on as they had, they knew that.

Why then, knowing that, did he suddenly bestow the powers above, or below, the accolade of observatory skills they had never yet exhibited? When they could be fobbed off with a well-placed memo why did he then think that they would instantly suss out that Aziraphale and he had become nestmates?

Unfortunately, he could answer his own question, at least to some extent. To the extent that explained why he was afraid, anyway.

What they had managed to…well, yes, fool them with was about what they did. The jobs they’d been sent to do, which none of the other angels or demons really had much track with. Not in the way that Aziraphale and Crowley had, in any case, nor to the extent. It was always easier to lie to someone who only had the vaguest idea at best of what the truth actually were.

When it came to something like this, however…this was about what they were, not what they did, and he couldn’t help the tendril of fear that on something like that, at the very least Heaven would be much more on the ball. It did, after all, split the focus of the angels that were involved in the nesting, on who and what they should love. In theory, anyway, as angels tended to fail to live up to their own brief, as it was.

Which in turn brought him back to the thought, the question of why the Almighty had created Her servants with such a handicap as that, in the sense of their intended, purported purpose.

He brought it up to Aziraphale, more than once and increasingly animated each time he mentioned it. It wasn’t helped by the fact that the angel didn’t seem as worried about the whole thing, despite the fact of…well, everything, really. He listened but didn’t make any comments or even any plans as to how they could deal.

At long last, after he’d asked flat out why he wasn’t worried, Aziraphale sighed heavily, put down the books that he’d been cataloguing – why he bothered when everything was neatly organised, even if it was to a system that only he knew and understood, was beyond the ginger – and pulled Crowley close.

“I am worried,” he said, quietly. “Very much so.”

“Then why the bleeding blazes have you been acting as though it doesn’t matter, or you aren’t bothered by it?” Crowley demanded, his arm waving animatedly in its gesticulation.

Aziraphale, surprisingly in the demon’s opinion, didn’t pause or falter. “Because I would be helping neither of us, but especially not you, if I were also to panic.”

“Panicking? Who says I’m panicking?” Crowley’s gesticulation was almost flailing at this point, mainly hampered by their closeness. “I’m not panicking, that’s absurd!”

“Of course not.”

“Why would I be panicking?”

“Because you’re understandably terrified of what they will do if they ever find out what we have done.”

“They will not merely send rude notes, that’s for bloody sure.”

“Destruction by rude note, that will certainly be novel.”

Aziraphale!”

The angel gave a small smile, which was warm but showing hints of both genuine worry and fear but also that inner core of steel. “I know how you’re feeling, dear. Honestly, I do. Don’t mistake me. But tell me…what other precautions can we take than what we are taking right now?”

He brought a hand up to caress a defined cheek gently, then cup the side of the jaw, thumb continuing to brush across the cheek. Crowley instinctively leaned into the contact, savouring it as he continued to look at his angel. He didn’t answer, though, because he had no answer to give. That was one of the problems, wasn’t it?

Silence reigned for a few long moments.

Then, very quietly “Would you want us to…divorce, for instance? Cease being nestmates?”

The words, the very suggestion that they would possibly stop being nestmates made Crowley snap for breath hard, his heart feeling as though it had just suffered an actual, physical punch. He would’ve shouted ‘no’ instantly and at the top of his lungs, if only he’d had the breath for it.

Aziraphale seemed to have been ready for the reaction, in a sense at least, as he made sure to steady his demon when his knees buckled a little.

Long-fingered hands came up to grasp hold of softened shoulders, hard and almost digging, as if that would somehow prevent him from leaving.

“No, I didn’t think so, either. Nor do I. As we’ve discussed before, I would never want to lose you as a nestmate. Apart from the option of returning to how we were, however – and even that is not a guarantee they won’t detect either of us are…divorced, as it were – I quite honestly cannot see what we can do about it.”

Crowley, still trying to get his breath back and stop the panic that had exploded inside, didn’t answer. He just moved somehow even closer and bent his neck so that he could rest his forehead against the angel’s shoulder, between his hand and where shoulder became neck.

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around the shape of his nestmate, as if to further ensure he wouldn’t go anywhere, no matter what happened.

“Please don’t leave,” Crowley said, his voice a little muffled from where his mouth was situated but nevertheless, it was insistent and Aziraphale heard him quite clearly.

“I won’t, dearest, I won’t. Never. I promise.” He turned his head and pressed his lips to the flaming red hair. “I hope you won’t, either.”

Crowley shook his head as though he was trying to dislodge a particularly stubborn wasp in his ear.

“In that light, I think all we can do is carry on as we always have and if things do turn south…then we’ll have to take it from there.”

Strictly speaking, they’d discussed that before as well but even so, it was a relief to the demon to have it confirmed.

Perhaps it was remnants of the unreality of it all, the sheer beauty and utter joy that went with their change in status and all that that had entailed for them, and the subsequent pure fear and dread that this was somehow indeed too good to be true. God could still be pulling the most massive prank on him.

What was it he’d read somewhere? “All this good fortune, all this fierce joy … it was wrong. Surely the universe could not allow this amount of happiness in one man, not without presenting a bill. Somewhere a big wave was cresting, and when it broke over his head it would wash everything away”?

Something along those lines, and didn’t it feel incredibly apt in the circumstances, even if he was a demon rather than a man?

Wait, hang on. Why could he remember something he’d read? When the heaven had he actually read, anyway? Maybe Aziraphale had read it aloud to him, as he sometimes did with books he truly loved and wanted to share. Crowley would never have his love of books, not even close to it, but he did enjoy the audiobook experience when it was tailored specifically to him by a very specific narrator.

So maybe it had come from there, a quiet evening where they just got to enjoy the other’s company.

Wherever it had come from, though, it had stuck and he couldn’t help but feel its aptness, perfectly summing up how he was feeling, even in the midst of his Paradise-on-Earth – which was infinitely better than the original, in his opinion, whose only benefit had been a fortunate meeting.

He tried not to let it take over his thoughts and, more importantly, not to let it show. Seeing as it tied into not only his fears and worries about the potential punishment from their headquarters but to all the negative and self-deprecating thoughts which he’d had prior to the two of them becoming nestmates about the impossibility of just that thing, it became a significantly more difficult prospect, even as he felt the relief from Aziraphale’s words.

The fact that he had his face hidden from view wasn’t much of a comfort.

But Aziraphale only held him tighter, turning his head to plant kisses on every part of Crowley’s head that he could reach, gently, lovingly. Being the anchor that he needed without saying a word.

Eventually, though he wouldn’t have thought he would, Crowley began to feel calmer. Not entirely so, the thoughts were still present, but in that silent interlude, he managed to…not so much push it into the background as pen it in and quieten it to a low murmur. Corral it into something manageable rather than outright banish it, helped by the words that Aziraphale had spoken and the reassuring calm that exuded from his body.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he straightened up. He didn’t try to otherwise put distance between them, though, and Aziraphale didn’t make him.

“No need to apologise. It’s a very legitimate fear to harbour.”

Crowley paused then came to a quick conclusion as he looked at the other’s face. “And you’re putting on a brave face for my sake.”

“I am not.”

“You are. That’s why you’re that calm about it.”

“I told you, I am not, neither that calm or putting on a brave face for you. I would not lie to you like that, dear.”

“You would.” It was an accusation, but it lacked any bite, the void of that filled with concern. “You would if you thought you were protecting me by doing it.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, presumably to protest, then closed it.

“Yes, I suppose that is a very valid point,” he said after a few but long moments of silence, voice quiet. “But I promise you that that was not my intention. I won’t hide from you, Crowley. Not anymore, not on purpose. I cannot control everything, but I will try and won’t put protection over honesty. Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” That he could believe, that he could lean against to face things, to rely on as his rock. Well, as part of the rock that was his angel, really, when it came down to it. Softness, love and chub concealing a steel core. “Sorry about – “

He was silenced by a kiss. “Shush now. No need for that. Not now nor ever. I understand.”

Crowley regarded Aziraphale for a moment. Then, his heart full of warmth now, the murmur of his fears very low indeed, he said, earnest and heartfelt, looking into the warm green eyes, “I love you, angel. I love you.”

The beam he got from saying that out loud was one that beat every other iteration of Aziraphale’s arsenal of smiles, all of which were wonderful on their own, and still did a number on his heart in the best possible way. He hoped that would never ever change.

“I love you, too, my dearest,” Aziraphale returned. “Nothing will ever change that.”

Crowley touched their foreheads together after stealing another kiss, saying ‘thank you’ without speaking the words. It seemed to get through to the other just fine.

They stayed like that for quite some time and then Crowley decided that it was time for bed.

Aziraphale protested that it was far too early to go to bed, quite apart from the fact that neither of them needed to sleep. Crowley ignored him.

Sleeping was one of his favourite things in the world and now that he had the option to do so with his angel – and his fears about what Heaven and Hell was going to do to them had been soothed enough that he wasn’t a nervous ball too tense to fall asleep anymore – he wasn’t going to pass it up.

Well, he had up until now, in a sense, he would have to admit. But there’d been other things for him, for them, to do and to explore with their changed circumstances, apart from the worry about whole being found out business.

Six millennia is a long time to wait and, for Crowley’s part pine, and even if Aziraphale had only become aware of his feelings very recently, comparatively speaking, he’d assured the demon more than once that it was more a case of realising what had been there for a very long time, it crystallising inside his mind in that moment rather than being born.

Given that, this change was new and fragile and oh so precious to them both and they were handling it delicately in terms of what they’d done since, as though it would shatter if they charged ahead.

Perhaps that was what he’d meant when he’d thought that nothing had changed. They’d thrust themselves into this whole other plane, as it were, of being nestmates rather than ‘only’ friends all at once. That was enough of a change to settle into, especially for being who could well regard a century ago as recent. There was no need for a radical change in behaviour or routines on top of that, not straight away, and so it felt safer, perhaps, to take it slowly.

There might be someone who’d point out that a lot of what they’d done, how they’d interacted for the last millennia or so, at least, could qualify on their own as dating and so it would only make sense that things might not feel that different, if different at all.

Nesting and consequently becoming nestmates were on quite another level compared to human dating, however, even if it wasn’t immediately visible by the standards that humans set for themselves. But Aziraphale and Crowley knew that it was there, and it resonated between them like the echoes of…well, the harp that the angels didn’t play.

Not to mention, of course, the little things, such as the touches, including kisses, and the general closeness and openness they now enjoyed. Being more explicit about the little gestures and tokens of love that they had hid from each other before.

And there were the feathers. In the bookshop, yes, on display but hidden so that they wouldn’t be inadvertently snatched by some customer Aziraphale somehow hadn’t managed to keep out of the shop, which would just be…no, that didn’t bear thinking about, either.

But there were also the ones that they carried with them. Which ought to be beyond stupid to do if they wanted to remain hidden if not for the fact that other angels, fallen or otherwise, would be able to detect the bond, for lack of a better term, they now had regardless.

And it was wonderful, Crowley had to admit, to be able to be parted from Aziraphale – and they were not joined at the hip, thank someone for that, and they never would be, however much they cherished the other’s company – and still carry a physical reminder of him that was part of him. It certainly beat what humans came up with, such as jewellery out of teeth and hair. Just…why?

Now, though…now he couldn’t help the want, the need for a bit of sleep and to have Aziraphale be there with him. Not for anything intimate or the like, just…being there.

The angel kept protesting all the way up the stairs to the small…well, to call it a flat was a tad overly generous, really, seeing as it was actually just a small set of rooms that had come with the building back when Aziraphale had bought it. What they had been intended for wasn’t clear, but it had been used for extra storage by the blond. That was, until Crowley had seen it one day after, well, and had miracled a bed up there.

Aziraphale had protested then, too, that there was no need for it, and it would only be in the way and where on earth did all his books go, really, Crowley, you can’t just –

And he’d shut up when the demon had pointed upwards to see the books neatly stacked all the way around the wall and underneath the ceiling. That he’d have to employ a bit of, well, trickery, to make more room than there actually was, it was certainly worth it.

He’d used it once or twice on his own since then, the smell of old books practically part of his nasal make-up at that point, but now he got to experience it with Aziraphale there.

The angel protested one more time when they made it up the stairs, though Crowley noted that he hadn’t made any proper attempts to pull out of his grasp or just stop.

“Crowley, this is ridiculous,” he tried, sounding only slightly exasperated. “We cannot go to bed at this hour, there are things I need to do. I’m not going to waste time – “

The demon looked at him, then, and his expression shut the angel up.

“I’m not asking you to stay for a long time or anything,” Crowley said, voice quiet. “I just want you to be there while I fall asleep, that’s all. I’d like to know what it feels like.” He couldn’t deny that ‘waste time’ had hurt, just a little, even though he knew Aziraphale hadn’t meant it like that.

The guilty expression had already started to form as he closed his mouth and realised what he’d said, but now it took over the soft face. “Oh. When you put it like that, then…”

He hesitated, then bit his lip. “Oh, good lord, I am an arse, aren’t I? I didn’t even think of that and I should’ve known – of course I’ll stay with you, dear.”

Crowley frowned. “You’re not an arse.” It was hardly his fault Crowley hadn’t made himself clear or that it hurt to hear him phrase it like he had, done entirely unintentionally.

“I’m afraid I am. I should’ve known better, in both regards, and I do apologise.” He squeezed the hand gripping his. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

Part of Crowley wanted to say, ‘there’s nothing to make up for’, while another wanted to ask how he would, and a third, albeit small part, wanted to make a smart-arse comment.

Instead, for once, his brain and body were clever enough to make him purely give a nod.

The apologetic but grateful smile from Aziraphale started to melt what little hurt was left.

--------------------------------------------------

I had forgotten I hadn’t uploaded this, sorry.

[eloquated]

((Cross posting from Dreamwidth, which is getting on my last nerve.))

Fanfic Survey

Ok, so this has been a day.  -flops-  In fact, it's been a long two days, with some nasty comments, and terrible news, and a couple of sprained toes to cap off the whole thing (wise words?  Ice and toes don't get along well).  

So, a survey!  Stolen shamelessly from donut_donut , because it's Sunday, and I'm planted on my couch, and really?  It seems more fun that folding the laundry!

I'm going to keep my answers to ao3, since my ff.n is ancient and terrifying, and nobody needs to see the teenage angst filled ramblings of baby El!  O_O

I have 31 works posted as eloquated, on ao3.  

What’re your first and second most common work ratings?

Teen And Up Audiences (13) Mature (12)

I hate rating things, I mean, I really hate it!  I have no idea if the rating is supposed to reflect just the content, or the explicitness.  Or maybe it's just to warn people off who might be squicked?  Usually I tend to err on the side of caution, just to be on the safe side!  Which, considering I don't write the smutty stuff (because oh my gosh, it's terrible... I've tried.. it's the worst thing!)  is probably very much to the safe side!

What’s your most common archive warning?

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings (26)

Most of the time I'm not writing things that are super squicky.  I've definitely been tempted to!  But skill and nerve aren't necessarily equal to my imagination!  

Least common?

Major Character Death (5)

Most of these are for the 'Anatomy' series, unsurprisingly!  That's what happens when you have a series that, like the Marleys, 'He was dead to begin with'!  

I've heard a few people say that they would never read a fic with this warning, and it never fails to catch me by surprise.  Sure, they aren't usually a barrel of laughs, but they let us explore whole new facets of the characters.  

With Anatomy, I really wanted to explore what would happen to Sherlock without his brother there to protect him.  Take away his safety net, and see what happens. 

Do you consider yourself an adventurous writer?

Umm... You know, I'd like to?  I wish I was one of those writers that could just be brave, and put it all down on the page.  But I usually catch myself up, or I can't figure out how to start.  It's a bad habit, but hey, I think we all have them.  And I'm working on it!  (Impatiently!)

But on the flipside, I love work building, and I think that's a different sort of adventurous.  Not necessarily risque, but trying new things?  

That's a really difficult question!

How many stories have you made in each pairing category?

M/M (17) Gen (12) F/M (7) F/F (2) Multi (2) Other (1)

The problem with a lot of popular media is that there are simply more male characters.  And that number is even more out of balance when you start looking at the number of named, or developed characters.  So yeah, a lot of my ships are M/M, and I'm really not sure how I feel about that!  

I also really like writing gen fic, and kidfic/parentfic... stuff with no pairings at all, just a lot of family dynamics.  Everyone has their thing, right?  From the numbers, I suppose that's one of mine!

What are your top 4 fandoms by numbers?

Sherlock (TV) (26) Marvel Cinematic Universe (3) The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types (2) Thor (Movies) (2)

Just a bit weighted to one side!  But if you take out the duplicates (like, Marvel/Avengers/Thor is all sort of variations on the same thing?)  It looks more like:

Sherlock (TV) (26) Marvel Cinematic Universe (3) Night at the Museum (Movies) (1) Neverwhere - All Media Types (1) Cabin Pressure (1) Shadowhunters (TV) (1) Hannibal (TV) (1)

Are you still active in any of them, and do you tend to migrate a lot?

I am, definitely!  I've been in fandoms for a lot of years (like, a properly lot of years!) so I've just sort of collected them as I go.  I'm mostly active in Sherlock and Cabin Pressure at the moment, since there isn't a lot of Shadowhunters or Hannibal stuff going on.  Usually it goes in a few year stretches, though.  Then something else comes along, and the older ones get quieter.  

What are your top 4 relationship tags?

Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes (13) Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes (10) Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper (8) Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper (6)

Can you tell I have recurring characters?  I rarely write fics with the characters in a vacuum, so there tends to be friends and family tags along with the romantic ones!  

I realized that I haven't actually written any ot3 stuff... which is a little surprising, since I love polyships!  Something to add to my to-do list, perhaps!

Does this match how you feel about the characters, or are you puzzled?

Ummm.... I'd say it's relatively accurate?  I think the numbers might be a little different if my Cabinlock fic, 'No Deductions During the Flight, Please', had been written individually, instead of with all the one-shots under a single title?  But yeah, I'd say it's fairly truthful!

What are your top 2 most used additional tags, and your bottom 2?

Mycroft Being a Good Brother (5) Grief/Mourning (4)

and

Pre-Relationship (2) Alternate Universe - Children (2)

But, I freely admit that I'm terrible at tagging things, and tend to forget them!  Mycroft is my favourite person to write, and I tend to have something of a redemptionist streak, so the top tag isn't surprising at all!  I love it when he has the chance to throw off the Iceman armor and be more human.  

I won't get started though, that's a subject I can ramble your ear off about!

What would happen if you combined all 4 of these into a fic?

A good Myc, mourning for someone he loved (but was never able to be with), while raising their child alone?  

It's actually a bit like my 'Georgiana' fic, sort of... but I could definitely write that!  Probably with Sherlock helping Mycroft raise his child with Molly.. but she'd passed away. Maybe after something with Moriarty?

Well this is a plot tribble I don't need! Shoo!  Shoo!

How many WIPs do you have currently running on AO3? Any you don’t plan on finishing?

I have two WIPs, technically.  One is my Cabinlock series, and that's more like a collection of one-shots, so each one is technically finished.  There's currently five of them, all in the same verse where Martin is actually the youngest Holmes brother.  So, that isn't reaaaaally a WIP.

And I have 'Hell Bent, Heaven Sent', which has the first chapter posted, and we've written the next 6.  We also have the rest of it sort of mapped out, so that's definitely going to be finished.  I'm not good at leaving fics unfinished.. makes me feel like I'm letting people down!  Plus, I tend to write things in smaller sections and one-shots.  Just the way my style has developed!

[tisfan]

Of all the Lord’s Creations

Title: Of All the Lord’s Creations Collaborator: @27dragons & @tisfan Link: AO3 Square Filled: B2 - Wing Kink Ship: Bucky/Tony Rating: E Major Tags: sin and temptation, angels AU, demons AU, a wide variety of semi-accurate christian mythology, and also some very inaccurate stuff, the authors are going to hell, angel!Bucky, demon!Tony, oral sex, frottage, tail and wing play, Gabriel’s kinda a dick Summary: Tony's pretty sure that corrupting an angel will get him back into Lucifer's good graces, and Bucky's gorgeous enough that seducing him won't even be a hardship. Bucky's on Earth to do good, which is what he was made for, but it's a little lonely. Surely it couldn't hurt just to *talk* to the fascinating demon that he happens to meet... Word Count: 11,457 Created for @mcukinkbingo

Tony was going to be in trouble soon, if he wasn’t already. In very hot water -- and in Tony’s case, that might be literal, if the Boss was peeved enough.

He’d lost his taste for partying and booze and drugs, and that was fine -- it was getting harder and harder to really corrupt someone with those anyway, and he’d landed a cushy gig inspiring weapons makers to newer and greater heights, destroying souls by the thousands, tens of thousands.

But it was so hands-off. So distasteful. He’d fallen down on that job, too.

And worst of all, he’d actually saved that child, the other week. So he had a soft spot for children. Sue him.

But it all added up to one thing: he had to earn some points with the Boss, and soon.

Pepper, his lesser demonic cohort (she refused to accept minion as her designation, and that was only fair really) consulted a clipboard. “I have it, Tony,” she said. “There’s a kid, out in Queens, he grows up to be a superhero; Clotho is all over that… We could corrupt him, that’d be… that’d be big. I mean, just think what a new supervillain on the scene would be worth.”

Tony glared at her. “Do I even know you?”

Pepper scowled. “Um, well, there’s that scandal,” she suggested. “The one we’ve all been sitting on, those letters for the potential saint, Margaret Carter? We could release those, put a real wrench in her canonization.”

“Ehhh. I don’t think they’re going to be enough to stop it. Just slow it down a little.”

“How about this, then--” Pepper thumbed through the Infernal News and Reports. “It’s a toughie. Maybe it’s just what you need, something to really sink your teeth into.”

Tony licked at his fangs. “Maybe. What’ve you got?”

“There’s an angel, on earth,” Pepper said. “He’s in trouble, halo’s a little bent. Gabriel’s dumped him in New York City, with instructions to do some major miracle work. But you know how angels are… lotta faith, very little street smarts.”

Tony sat up straight. “You’re shitting me. Seriously, an angel?” There hadn’t been a new Fallen in centuries. Corrupting an angel would cover Tony with glory. So to speak. “New York City, hm?” He grinned. “Now that. That is a worthy job. Get the relocation paperwork going, but keep it on the down-low. I don’t want anyone else muscling in before I get my turn.”

The problem with miracles is that they required faith. Faith, not proof.

There were a lot of things that Bucky could do… the loaves and fishes trick had always been popular.

Even though there wasn’t actually a food shortage on the planet these days. More like a supply problem, and it was beyond even Bucky’s ability to miracle his way through red tape.

So far, he’d been reduced to influencing luck. Which was, honestly, shitty miracle work. A homeless guy tripping over a winning lottery ticket didn’t praise or thank the Lord. In fact -- Bucky sighed -- they usually ended up in worse trouble.

Humans could only see him at all if they had high faith, or when he was in a human vessel. So, every morning, Bucky slipped into his vessel and tried to figure a way to get back into the Lord’s good Graces. Working at the soup kitchen wasn’t glamorous, but it did let him slip in some minor miracles; increasing the amount of soup, making what soups they did have more nourishing. A little healing touch, here and there. New York City had some of the nicest fall weather in a long time, letting the homeless stay warmer, longer.

It wasn’t much, but Bucky was still waiting for some Divine Inspiration.

If nothing else, earth was at least more interesting than Heaven. He didn’t much miss it, although he sometimes missed being able to talk to someone who actually knew who he was. Humans… didn’t listen. They just sort of waited for their turn to talk.

It was dark by the time Bucky left the soup kitchen, and as he crossed the street, a dark, slender figure detached itself from the alley wall. “Hey there, angelface.”

Bucky squinted into the darkness; the shadows seemed to cling to the stranger with loving hands. “The Lord be with you, friend,” Bucky said. It was a good, solid earth greeting. Those with no faith would rapidly make their excuses to be elsewhere, and those with faith would find a few moments with a comforting ear.

“I very much doubt it,” the stranger said as he took another step closer to Bucky. The shadows spread behind him like stretching wings. “Going my way?”

(more below the cut)

There was something about the stranger that sent a shiver down Bucky’s spine. He’d obviously been associating with humans too often if one could cause such a reaction. He took a step closer, trying to see the face behind the shadow. He couldn’t, which was odd. Absently, Bucky plucked his halo out of the pocket of the coat he wore; not like he got cold, but the pockets were useful.

To human eyes, Bucky would have merely run a hand through his hair. In truth, his halo was a bit lopsided, tilted at a rakish angle over his left eye, and pretty badly dinged up. It didn’t shine as much as it used to. Bucky blamed the Internet. Heaven was just so boring, and when he got caught sneaking down to earth from time to time -- he was almost current with Game of Thrones -- he got an angelic time out.

Seen with Heavenly light, the stranger’s face--

--was not at all human, under the human vessel he wore. The demon was beautiful, despite the shattered remains of his halo that made up what humans saw as horns, and the devastation of his wings. His face was angular and long, his beard trimmed into a neat, sharp point, his eyes deceptively warm and welcoming, his smile -- what else? -- wicked. “Ah, there you are,” he purred, and eyed Bucky’s halo and wings with a hungry expression. “That poor thing’s about to Fall,” he added. “You might want to have a friend ready to catch it.”

“I’m fine, thanks for your concern,” Bucky said, a little stiffly. It wasn’t his fault that Steve had been promoted years ago, and that Bucky didn’t really have any friends left. Steve tried to visit, as often as he could, but seraphim had busy schedules. He eyed the demon, curious. “I didn’t know they let your kind out of Hell.” He took a step closer, fascinated. The wings were short, stubby things that protruded out of the creature’s back, but he’d heard rumors that they had… oh, there it was, curled around the demon’s leg. A tail, long and as swift-moving as a cat’s. Bucky had a sudden urge to touch it.

“Aw, now, don’t be like that,” the demon said. “Of course they let me out. I’m Fallen, not damned.” He smiled again, charming and surprisingly sweet.

Bucky was a relatively young angel; the War had been long over before he’d come into existence. He’d never actually seen a Fallen, before, much less spoken to one. “Did it hurt,” Bucky wondered, “when you Fell?”

The demon laughed outright, and it didn’t sound evil or condescending, just... happy. “All right, you win that round,” he said after a moment, still chuckling around the words. “It’s been a long time since someone surprised me like that.” His head tipped, just a little, showing off a long throat. “Come and have a drink with me, angel. It gets lonely here, with only humans around.”

Well, Bucky could agree with that. It’d been a while since he’d had anyone to talk to. Gabriel totally didn’t count. The archangel just showed up to sneer and scold. Bucky wasn’t supposed to socialize with demons, but… he had to admit, he was curious. And Bucky was tough; of the line of Samael, who once wrestled a human during the entire night. He absolutely wasn’t afraid. “Do you have a name that I might call you?”

“Call me Tony,” said the demon. “And who are you?”

“Tony,” Bucky said, tasting the word, sounding it out, figuring the flavor and all the meanings. Layers of power, in a name. Except this one was obscured, the meaning lost. Bucky grappled for it, and it faded. He couldn’t hold it, there was no way for him to grip the name, to have any control over the demon. He was strong, then. Ancient. He hesitated over giving his own name, but it would be rude. And Bucky wasn’t scared of a demon. The Lord was on his side. Theoretically, at least. Bucky’d never actually met Him, either. “It’s Bucky. My… my name is Bucky.”

“Bucky.” Tony smiled. “So delighted to meet you, Bucky.” He tucked his arm through Bucky’s and gently tugged, leading the way up the street, toward a bar. “This will be the first proper conversation I’ve had since I got here.” He sounded thoroughly happy about it, and his tail... his tail was curling gently around Bucky’s calf.

“Oh!” Bucky shivered again, and… with a crack like a whip, his wings stretching out to their full span, involuntarily, the feathers spreading protectively. “Oh, that’s your… I’m sorry, I… you startled me.” Bucky’s skin felt strange, tingly, from where the tail had touched him, and then his neck got too warm, and his cheeks were heated, and his tongue felt a little too large for his mouth, awkward and thick. He fanned himself with his wings, cooling his overheated skin, and then pulling them in tight, folded against his back.

“Hm? Oh, sorry, gorgeous.” Tony grabbed his tail and dragged it away from Bucky with both hands. “It has a mind of its own, sometimes. Though I must say it’s got excellent taste.” Tony watched Bucky’s wings until they were folded away again, then tore his gaze up to Bucky’s face. “Let’s get that drink, shall we?” He pushed open the door to the bar.

It was dark inside, lit with low, neon lights and the occasional strobe from the dance floor. The music was loud, the place crowded. The crowds parted for Tony like the sea before Moses, though, until they wound up in a smaller, somewhat quieter space to one side, plush and luxurious. Tony folded onto the well-padded bench seat, and patted the space beside him invitingly.

It wasn’t hard to follow, the demon’s tail wasn’t the only interesting thing about the view from behind. Bucky found himself staring, and not even knowing why, just that the demon…

...represented the ultimate temptation.

Bucky would do well to remember that. He took the seat across from Tony, instead. Not that it was much better, their legs bumping under the table, and the demon’s mobile mouth drawing Bucky’s gaze instead. “How… have you been on earth, long?”

“It seems like forever,” Tony sighed. “How about you, Bucky? I understand you’re fairly new here.”

“Well, I used to sneak down, sometimes, too,” Bucky admitted. “So… two weeks, plus an hour here and there. Usually to watch television.” He couldn’t help the shy smile that crossed his lips. The very few conversations he’d had that humans responded to favorably, had been about shows. “Some of the older angels, they have access to human entertainment, but… our guardian doesn’t allow it. It’s bad for us, keeps our thoughts away from the Lord.” Bucky puffed out a breath, absently grabbed hold of his pinion feathers and ran his fingers over them. A nervous habit.

“Oh, I knew you’d be good to talk to,” Tony said. “I love TV, and we don’t get most of it, you know, Downstairs. What shows do you like?”

“Oh, anything with old-fashioned fighting,” Bucky said, dreamily. “Swords and massive armies and honor. Humans don’t fight that way, anymore. It’s a shame, really.” Of course, that wasn’t the only reason he watched those shows; humans were so… very physical, both in love and in war.

Bucky found himself leaning across the table, as the night went on. Drinks were brought, consumed, paid for. Tony talked, and listened. He shared insights, and his sense of humor was delightfully wicked, pointedly observant, and he was quick with a clever phrase. Bucky wasn’t even sure that he noticed when Tony’s tail had stopped playfully teasing at Bucky’s calf and was, instead, laying in Bucky’s lap, letting itself be petted like a cat.

He barely noticed the passing of time at all, until the bar started to close down, and they were given the same speech as the rest of the humans that is was time to leave.

“Well,” Bucky said, as they staggered out onto the street, human vessels dizzy with alcohol, “this was… educational.”

“It was marvelous,” Tony enthused. “Thank you so much for spending the evening with me.” He hesitated. “I wonder if I could... well, it’s a silly thing, really, but it would mean a lot to me.”

“Hmm? What’s that?” The stars were spinning in the sky. Bucky could focus on an individual star, far away, and see the planets that went around it. Fascinating. “I’m listening, go on.”

Tony smiled a self-deprecating little smile. “Could I just... touch your wings? I miss mine so much.”

“What? Oh… yeah, I… sure,” Bucky stammered. No one touched wings, it just… wasn’t done. Sometimes, Bucky couldn’t help it, in a crowded area, it was hard to avoid brushing another angel’s wings, but it wasn’t a deliberate act. It was almost like touching someone’s halo, the very symbol of their relationship with the Lord.

But he’d been petting Tony’s tail all night and it seemed somehow… snobby, almost priggish, not to allow him the liberty.

Bucky spread, his wings unfolding gently. As dark as it was, now, they gave off their own, soft light. A little hop up, and the Grace took hold. Bucky hovered, a few inches over the ground, toes pointing down and all the weight of the human vessel falling away.

Tony just stared up at him for a long minute, his eyes liquid and wide. “You really are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured. He stepped forward until his body was all but pressed against Bucky’s, and he looked up into Bucky’s face as he reached over Bucky’s shoulders to lightly caress the thick feathers. “Oh, that feels...”

He’d never felt anything like it; each stroke of Tony’s fingers sent spirals of sensation down his wings, into his very flesh. Bucky reared back, startled at how… good it felt, how soft and how soothing, and yet, it burned in him, like fire. His wings arched out, shuddered all over, and then, instinctively, he mantled, pulling Tony in close and covering them both with the protective shell. Inside, drenched in the holy light of Bucky’s wings, in the perfect Grace of his halo, Tony was the most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen.

“Oh! Oh!” Bucky wasn’t sure what to do, everything seemed very… awkward.

Tony’s tail ruffled the feathers enclosing them, and that sent delicious sparks through Bucky’s body. “Bucky,” Tony murmured, “let me kiss you?” He lifted up onto his toes, his head tipped back, until his breath spilled over Bucky’s lips. Bucky wanted, wanted something that he couldn’t name, but Tony was hesitating, waiting.

“I don’t… I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Bucky whispered. But surrounded by the heat and scent of the demon, Bucky couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea. It certainly sounded interesting. His mouth tingled, and he licked his lip. He remembered watching dozens of kisses on television, each time he would pluck at his pinions and shiver with delight. They seemed to enjoy it, so much. And Bucky had rarely so much as touched another angel. Sometimes, very close friends would touch fingertips or palms and even that seemed… greatly daring. Angels didn’t have bodies, except to serve the Lord.

Well, if his body’s purpose was only to serve the Lord, maybe this would be the way, Bucky thought, suddenly. “Yes, why don’t you do that,” he suggested. “Kiss me.”

Tony’s mouth touched Bucky’s, and it wasn’t at all like he had imagined, watching humans kiss on the television. It was so much more, the gentle brush of skin on skin and the warmth of Tony’s breath and the scent of him and the taste, somehow, of the drinks they’d consumed but also something more, something indescribably sweet and maybe a little sad. Oh, and Tony’s hands were still in Bucky’s wings, deeper now, curling around the shafts and stroking them.

Bucky didn’t know what to do, he really did not, and it was so good, and so wicked, and Gabriel would be so angry, and… Bucky wrenched his mouth away, panting for breath, wings shuddering all over, and his halo was glowing. “Tony, wait, no,” Bucky said, and he tried to back up, but Tony’s hands were still on him and he didn’t want to hurt Tony, didn’t want to… didn’t really want to stop, but he should. He really, really should. Resolve wavered in him, and then solidified. “Tony, wait, I need… I need you to stop.”

Tony didn’t stop for a few seconds longer, and then he pulled away, looking hurt and confused. “What’s wrong? Did it-- did I hurt you?”

“No, no, it didn’t hurt,” Bucky reassured him, hastily, and he realized he was still holding Tony in, wings still sheltering them both. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m… you… I…” He pulled his wings back, slowly. Let himself touch the ground, and all the weight and burden that came with it, drawing up his human vessel and letting the light from his halo flicker, putting it back in his pocket. “This… this isn’t what I came to earth to do. Not… I’m an angel. This… you… I’m here to help people.” He couldn’t help it, brushed the very tip of his wing down the side of Tony’s face before he tucked it away.

“There’s no one here who needs help right now,” Tony said, swaying toward Bucky. Then his eyes widened. “It’s because I’m Fallen, isn’t it?” His tail snapped back, away from where it had been curling up the side of Bucky’s leg again. “I must be repulsive to you.”

“No, no,” Bucky protested. “You’re not. I promise. You’re so… lovely. Interesting.” Bucky found himself twisting his feathers again, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to bend the delicate vanes. He squeaked, let go of his wing and patted at it, soothingly. “It’s me, I’m… this.” It’s wrong, it’s sin, it’s… selfish. Bucky berated himself. “I need to go. This was… incredible. I’ll treasure… I have to go.”

Bucky gripped his halo and willed himself to the small sanctuary he’d claimed, holy ground. Home. An abandoned church that had never been deconsecrated. Where he could rest and hide. And pray.

Even if he didn’t know what he was praying for.    

Tony made his way back to the bar, long closed now, and made himself at home in the VIP lounge. So much sin in this place -- lust and greed and intemperance and pride. Occasional splashes of hatred and disobedience and idolatry, for flavor. It was such a delicious place.

And Tony’d had such a wonderful evening. He’d lured the angel as far as a kiss, already. The whole thing would barely take any time at all.

Bucky. Such a sweet name, such a trusting creature to give it to an old demon like Tony. It was a name that tasted of strength, and of youth. Bucky was too young to have known the War -- did it hurt, indeed!

Sweet, naive creature. He’d even let Tony touch his feathers -- bittersweet, that; he hadn’t lied about missing his own wings. Tony could almost feel bad for what he was going to do to the angel. Almost.

The next night, he made his way through the shadows to the building where Bucky worked his small miracles. Tony wondered if those miracles had stuttered, when Bucky thought about Tony’s lips on his.

Bucky was late coming out, later than before, and Tony smiled, imagining Bucky debating whether he should emerge at all. Whether he hoped to see Tony again, or dreaded it. Tony waited patiently for the inevitable.

When Bucky finally came out, Tony stepped into his path. “Angel.”

Tony had seen Bucky in all his glory and grace -- well, the human version. Some angels could become wheels within wheels, the size of buildings in their magnificence, but Bucky didn’t seem like that sort. And yet, he was utterly unprepared for the young angel to smile at him. Bucky’s whole face lit up, not a holy glow, or even the mysterious angelic phosphorus of Bucky’s wings, but just… joy. There wasn’t an ounce of deception in the celestial nature, so he couldn’t be lying, even with something as simple as a smile.

Bucky was, quite honestly, happy to see him.

“Tony,” Bucky exclaimed, and held out his hands in a greeting, inviting Tony to touch his palm.

It wasn’t a kiss, but it was fairly intimate, for angels -- a gesture for kin and close friends. Equals. Tony touched his palm to Bucky’s in the ancient greeting, then curled his fingers around Bucky’s, squeezing a little. “I’m glad to see you, Bucky.” Tony couldn’t control an angel with their name the way he could a human, but it still set up a resonance that Bucky would feel, each time Tony said it.

“I am gladdened to see you, too,” Bucky said. “It’s been a very exciting day. I might have overdone it a little. Come on, let’s go, before anyone else sees me.” He laughed, light and pleasant and actually bumped Tony’s shoulder with his own, the edges of his wing brushing against Tony’s neck and side. “There’s got to be something we can do, yes? I haven’t seen much of the city, really, and I’m just... excited. Oh!” He grabbed Tony’s hand and pulled him down a side road. “Reporter! Mustn’t get caught, you know. Faith, not proof. Can you fly?”

Tony couldn’t precisely fly, but he could be anywhere he wanted to be if he concentrated hard enough. “No,” he said, and let his lips pull into a teasing smile. “Are you going to carry me?”

“If you wish it,” Bucky said. He considered Tony for a long moment, hiding in the mouth of some filthy alley, and then, “here, turn ‘round, like… oh, these really look terribly painful, I’m so sorry.” Bucky brushed his fingers over the stumps of Tony’s wings. There was a surge of light and Tony felt an angel’s Grace touch him for the first time in centuries, millennia, since the War. “Hold on.”

To what?

Bucky slid his arms around Tony’s chest and lifted him. An angel in flight could only be seen by the purest of men, the most holy, the most faithful. Young children, sometimes. And cats. Who were entirely unimpressed with angels and demons alike.

Bucky’s Grace ached through Tony’s bones, but it was worth the pain to look down from an angel’s vantage again. To feel Bucky’s breath spilling over his head. To feel Bucky’s chest pressed against his back, even if it stretched Tony’s wing stumps unbearably. Pain was nothing new, but it had been millennia, aeons, since Tony had flown simply for the joy of it, and his eyes filled with tears at the simple beauty. It took him a moment to catch his breath. “Thank you,” he whispered, and it could be sincere and part of the seduction at the same time; it could.

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt true gratitude, unburdened by the weight of expectation or debt.

“Oh, look, there’s a good one,” Bucky said, and he swirled through the air until he deposited Tony on a cloud, light and fluffy and full of warmth. That was decidedly an angel’s trick, and nothing that Tony could have managed, making a solid landing place above the human world where they could look down and see, and yet remain concealed. Bucky laughed, spread his wings out and laid down on them like they were a blanket, staring up into the sky. “Don’t let go, you’ll fall.” He kept one hand outstretched for Tony to take. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, that was terribly rude of me to say. Please, forgive it.”

“I’m afraid I’m not in the forgiving business,” Tony said, but he grinned and winked as he said it so Bucky would know it was a joke. Even if it was also deadly serious. He kept hold of Bucky’s hand, and curled his tail around Bucky’s leg as well, for good measure. “You’re in a good mood today. Do angelic vessels not get hangovers?”

Bucky blushed, pretty and pink. “I Healed someone, today. I was… well, I was happy, and I touched her, and she could see. She looked up in my face and she Saw me. We had to call the… the little truck that comes, and she wanted me to come with her, to see the doctor. He thinks I shocked her, like a little tiny lightning bolt, and it pushed her nerves back into working order. I don’t know, humans are silly sometimes, in their quest for Answers. And then-- then someone heard about it, and he came down to the kitchen with a big check, and that’ll just do so much good, Tony, it’s very exciting!”

Tony stared at Bucky in shock. He’d tempted an angel into sin -- not much of it, but a little! -- and the next day the angel had done more good? Inspired more faith?

That was not what Tony had planned. Damn it (literally), if word of this got back Downstairs before Tony made good on his promise to corrupt Bucky, the Boss was going to be so pissed.

Okay. Okay. No panicking. This wasn’t unrecoverable. Tony could use this.

Bucky was still holding his hand, after all.

“Maybe kissing is good for you,” Tony said, keeping it light.

“Maybe,” Bucky agreed. He eyed Tony through long lashes. “I prayed about it, you know.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you? And did you get an answer?”

“I did,” Bucky said. He rolled up onto his side, leaning on his elbow to stare lazily at Tony. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Do you want to know what He said?”

How long had it been since Tony had heard the Lord’s voice and known His Will? “Tell me.”

“He said I should always repay that which I owe,” Bucky said. He reached out, fingers trembling, and he touched Tony’s face. “You gave me a kiss. Should I give you one back?”

Tony laid back, letting Bucky lean over him. “I would like that,” he said honestly. Bucky’s kiss had been so sweet... And if the Lord was actually telling Bucky to kiss Tony back, then Tony would eat his own tail.

The first kiss Bucky gave him was not on his mouth, or his forehead, but instead, Bucky touched his lips to the palm of Tony’s hand, a sudden, searing agony of a kiss, so full of Grace that it burned Tony’s flesh. Like a Holy wafer, like blessed water, and yet, even in the middle of pain, it went right through him. It warmed every inch of him -- a demon, who’d been to Hell, who knew intimately the fires of Lucifer -- in ways that he’d never imagined. Like he’d been cold and not known it, like he’d been scared and was now protected. Like he’d been alone, and was now home.

When Bucky pulled away, Tony was gasping for breath, tears streaming from his eyes. “What... What was that?”

“Oh!” Bucky turned Tony’s palm. “I…” He ducked his chin a little, embarrased. “I told you, I’m overdoing it today.” Clear as sunlight, right in the middle of Tony’s palm, where Bucky’s lips had touched… was Bucky’s Name. Written in angelic script. It glowed, soft as starlight.

“What...” Tony touched the name with his own fingers, feeling the way it sparked and sizzled under his skin. Beelzebub’s left tit, this was getting out of hand. Tony needed to get this back on track, and fast. “Bucky,” he whispered, and watched the Name on his skin flash and glow. “How?”

“I… uh, I don’t know?” Bucky ran his fingertip over it. “I’m sorry, does it hurt? I didn’t… I won’t do it again.” He carefully, tenderly, folded Tony’s fingers closed, like a mother giving a child a kiss to save. “I certainly won’t do it to your face, I like your face just the way it is.” And he leaned in to kiss Tony’s mouth.

For a long, sweet moment, it was nothing but pressure, warm and willing, but unlearned. Bucky let out a faint breath, and then his tongue slid out, traced the crease of Tony’s mouth with timid, but eager licks. Tony had kissed more humans than he could conveniently count, and more than a  good sized number of the Fallen. And he was discovering that they were all nothing, by comparison. That a little baby peck from an angel who’d never so much as been touched before was reaching places inside Tony that he’d thought sealed and locked and gone and forgotten. Bucky hadn’t closed his eyes, as if he didn’t know he was supposed to, or if he was so fascinated by Tony that he didn’t want to, and there was a hunger in those brilliant blue eyes, the same color as storm clouds.

As if Bucky might Fall, for no other reason than to be with Tony. As if he needed something from Tony, something no one else could ever, ever give him. More precious than faith, more rare than Grace. Bucky needed him, wanted him, with a fervor that was… humbling.

Tony cupped Bucky’s face in one hand and kissed him again, slow and thorough, mapping Bucky’s mouth and giving in to the temptation to roll his body up against Bucky’s, to feel that strength, to test the depth of that desire.

Bucky made a soft, humming sound, licked at Tony’s mouth again, and then drew back to look at him. “What… what are we doing?” He didn’t seem angry, or afraid, just curious, and his fingers twitched out again, traced along Tony’s bottom lip, leaving tingles in their wake. Those fingers slid up the side of Tony’s face, and then hesitated, right over the edge of his hair, hovering near the jagged edges of Tony’s horns; the remains of his halo.

Tony tipped his head, stropping his horn against Bucky’s hand like a cat might, if a cat had horns. It ached a little; Tony’s horns were sensitive from a wound that couldn’t be healed. But it also felt good, that bright, singing sensation that was the constant presence of Bucky’s Grace. “We’re...” He paused, considering it. He didn’t want to frighten Bucky away again, or make Bucky angry. “We’re making love.” That’s what the humans called it, even when there was nothing as pure as love about it.

“We are?” The seemed to delight the angel and that soft, sweet smile grew even brighter. “I didn’t know. We’re… creating it?” Bucky quivered against him, like a bowstring pulled taut. “Will I be able to see it? Will you show it to me?” He was caressing Tony’s horns the whole time, as mindlessly and guilelessly as he’d patted Tony’s tail; the innocence of a creature that hadn’t yet learned that some things bite.

There, that was the permission Tony had wanted, the crack in the angel’s armor that would let Tony’s corruption in. That was what he had needed. He should feel triumphant, but all he could feel in the moment was a sense of awe, that Bucky would trust him so completely, chased with a hint of something like sorrow -- pity, that Bucky was going to learn such a hard lesson, so harshly.

Not enough to stop him, though. He put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and pushed gently until Bucky was laid back on those glorious wings again, and Tony was leaning over him. “I’ll show you,” he promised, and he kissed Bucky’s mouth, Bucky’s cheek and jaw, drawing on all his skill to read Bucky’s responses and react to them. If Bucky was going to Fall, then Tony would give him something worth remembering. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured into Bucky’s ear, and licked the shell of it.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Bucky said. He leaned into Tony’s kiss with eagerness. “You won’t hurt me.” When Tony pulled back to gauge Bucky’s reactions, Bucky repeated the kisses, exploring Tony’s ear, nipping at the lobe, and letting his breath warm the damp skin. “You won’t hurt me.” His hands roamed aimlessly around, Tony’s shoulders, his back, along his throat; a blind man trying to discover the face of God. Each touch, so clearly innocent and unaware of the fire he was building, was like a gift.

That trust was searing itself into Tony’s skin with each soft touch. “No,” Tony agreed. “I won’t. I’m going to do the very opposite of that.” He nuzzled in to kiss Bucky’s throat, licking and nibbling gently, and stroked his hands over Bucky’s wings, tugging softly at the primaries and secondaries, ruffling through the smaller feathers, letting himself imagine how it would have felt, when his own wings had been whole.

Bucky shimmered under Tony’s hands, his human vessel dropping away to reveal the angel, unhidden and bright. The earth-style clothing melted away until all that was under Tony’s hands were billowing, white robes. A golden belt around his waist and a golden collar around his neck held them closed, gave his wings a whole back panel to spread through. Not that it mattered, an angel’s wings could only be held down by sin. It was the nature of things. Bucky mantled again, as Tony kissed his throat, tucking Tony into that safe, white shell.

Without the human mask, Bucky was even more beautiful, his Grace mirrored on a perfect face. Soft, full lips framed a glorious, eager smile. His eyes were the blue of stormclouds at sea, dusted at the corners with laugh lines, and fringed with thick lashes. Strong chin, sharp perfect cheekbones. A thousand master painters could have struggled for a thousand years and never created anything so beautiful. And yet, that same face turned in Tony’s direction and all Tony could see was the reflection of himself, in Bucky’s eyes.

Tony knew that Bucky could see through his human disguise, had already seen Tony’s demon shape, scarred and disfigured by the Fall. But it still took an act of will to drop his vessel and reveal himself, in the face of Bucky’s perfection. He pushed aside the masks and met Bucky’s gaze with stubborn pride. He had earned his scars and his blackened stumps. Let the angel look, if he would.

But Bucky’s eyes held no pity, only curiosity and warmth and burgeoning desire. Tony took a breath, and another. He put his hand on Bucky’s chest, over that robe, whiter than the cloud they rested on, and felt Bucky’s heart racing underneath. “You’re so beautiful,” Tony said, and let the wonder of it fill him. “Are you sure?”

“Only the Lord, or fools, are ever certain,” Bucky said.”You are as distant and beautiful as the stars, and as unique as a single snowflake, ephemeral in your perfection. How many angels would dance on the head of a pin? Only one, if you will dance with me. I am not certain. I am not sure. But I am willing, and I want this. Show me love, Tony.”

Tony laughed. “As you say, angel.” He kissed Bucky’s throat, around the edge of that collar, then unfastened it and set it aside, letting Bucky’s robes fall open to reveal his chest, muscled and smooth. Tony dragged his mouth over that skin, sweet and warm, licked and kissed and nipped and sucked until Bucky was arching into each touch.

Bucky squirmed and writhed, made soft, kitten noises in his throat. His hands opened and closed on Tony’s shoulders, sometimes stroking his skin, sometimes just holding on. “I don’t… I don’t…” he gasped. “Oh, Tony… I…” If Bucky was human, Tony would have said that his legs went ‘round Tony’s hips instinctively, but angels shouldn’t have those sorts of instincts. They didn’t mate like humans, and it was only in mockery and mimicry of humans that demons learned those things.

But Bucky was as pure in love and as eager in learning as he was in everything else. When Tony did something the angel liked, he knew it. The sounds Bucky made were incredible, needy and sweet. And when Tony did something specific, Bucky would mimic it, then try his own variations, to see if what Tony liked was different.

Bucky startled, when Tony shed his own clothes in a burst of fire, the rich scent of sulphur hanging in the air, the ash of cloth wafting away on the breeze. “Oh,” Bucky gasped. “That was… impressive.”

Bucky rolled them over until Tony was supported on nothing but the clouds and Bucky’s will. Terrifying, because if Bucky let him go, Tony would fall, and while demons couldn’t really be killed -- well, not by anything as mundane as gravity -- it would still hurt. He stared at Tony as if he’d never seen a naked man before, and perhaps he hadn’t. It wasn’t like an angel needed to take a shower, even if Tony had indulged in the luxury.

His hand went down Tony’s chest and stuttered over the scarring at his heart, where his Angelic Name and Power had been stripped from him, a clawed hole that had been covered with thick ropy scar tissue. It always ached, always hurt, just a little. But Bucky’s fingers didn’t shy away from the ugliness, didn’t even seem to register that it was ugly. He kept right on touching, as if Tony were somehow precious. “Lovely.” Down more, and then--”Am I allowed?” His palm was just over Tony’s cock, scant millimeters away. “Will you like it?”

“Yes,” Tony promised. “Please. Whatever... anything you want. You can’t hurt me.” A lie, that, but Bucky wouldn’t want to hurt him, and that was nearly the same thing. Tony had never let pain come between him and pleasure before. “You learn fast, Bucky.” What a glorious demon he would make.

Bucky’s fingers explored the length, from base to head, and then he laughed, delighted. “Oh, it moves! Not quite so much as your tail, but-- does it have a mind of its own, too?” Bucky kept stroking it, petting it. At the start of each stroke, he ran his thumb over Tony’s crown, smearing precome down, sending delicious, juddering sensation through Tony’s whole body.

Tony groaned. “Something like that,” he managed. He slid his tail up under Bucky’s robes, coiling higher and higher up Bucky’s thigh. “Going to let me return the favor, gorgeous?”

“You should always pay back what you owe,” Bucky said, almost primly, despite the wicked things he was doing to Tony’s cock. He curled his hand around it, squeezed, and then twisted, making Tony cry out with sudden pleasure, before rolling them over again, the cloud obligingly moving around underneath them, perfect support and cushion, and tucking his hands behind his head, as if waiting for Tony to get on with things.

Tony laughed again and settled himself into the vee of Bucky’s thighs. “This isn’t something to owe,” he said. “This is something to give, a gift.” He plucked at Bucky’s belt and let it fall away, let the robes drop open to reveal a body that made Tony’s mouth water at the sight. “But if you like, I will repay, with interest.” He slipped down and closed his mouth over Bucky’s cock, thick and long and dark with need. He had to stretch his jaw to take Bucky down to the root, but it was worth it to hear Bucky’s gasps and soft cries, to feel that perfect body trembling under him.

One of Bucky’s hands speared into Tony’s hair, then latched on to his horn, thumb stroking along it in time to Tony’s movements, like it was a handle. The other somehow found Tony’s tail, pulled at it once, which sent shivers directly up Tony’s spine, his hand warm against the surface, before retreating to caress the spaded tip. His wings arched around them, feathery ends tickling down Tony’s back and legs, seeming to touch him everywhere at once. “Oh, that… that feels… Tony, that feels so good!”

Tony hummed in approval. His tail was sensitive, almost as sensitive as his hands and cock. And the way Bucky touched his horns -- humans couldn’t touch them at all, and demons simply didn’t, but Bucky couldn’t know that. That indescribable pleasure-pain of Grace scraping against the remnants of Tony’s halo... He shuddered, and tried to take Bucky even deeper into his mouth, because if he pulled free, he was going to do something utterly undignified, like beg for more.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Bucky cried, each repetition going higher and more frantic, his body unable to remain still under the onslaught of sensation. “Tony, something’s happening!” And he bucked up, hips moving, piston sharp, against Tony. His hand tightened, almost unbearably, on Tony’s horn, before relaxing again and then-- Tony found his tail hauled straight up and Bucky was licking it frantically, sucking the spaded end into his mouth and playing it with his tongue, swallowing around it. He hummed, a quick patter of notes that sent vibrations shimmering up Tony’s spine.

Tony’s tail twitched, and he swallowed down around Bucky’s cock, pressing his tongue flat against the vein. With a more experienced partner, he might have stopped, drawing out the moment, but he couldn’t imagine doing anything like that with Bucky, not like this. Nothing could ever be more perfect than Bucky’s frantic desperation and confusion, and Tony wanted nothing more than to lead Bucky to climax, to see the shock and pleasure on the angel’s expression.

Bucky jerked, one last time, and then his Voice rang out, multiple chords, a sound absolutely unreproducible by a human throat, a beautiful alleluia that shook the sky and earth. The clouds scattered and it started raining down from nothingness, the moon brilliant enough to send rainbows scattering for a brief moment of meteorological miracles.

“Oh! Oh, Tony.” Bucky panted for breath, overwhelmed and shivering with reaction.

“There you go,” Tony soothed. He swallowed his mouthful -- of course Bucky tasted wonderful -- and crawled up to take Bucky into his arms. He petted the angel’s hair and shoulders and the join of his wings. “That’s it, just relax.” He eyed the rainbows mistrustfully -- the last thing he needed was for the Lord to butt in now.

Bucky cracked one eye open to give Tony a Look. “Don’t think I could get any more relaxed,” he pointed out, the sarcasm loaded, and unlike the angel’s normal, sweet, too-innocent tones. He stretched, displaying all his glorious skin, and then his hand travelled down Tony’s body again. “Will… that? Happen for you? Teach me, show me how to make love with you.”

Tony suppressed a scoff -- everyone knew that demons couldn’t love. Everyone except Bucky, it seemed. Tony curled his hand -- the one with Bucky’s Name branded into the palm -- around Bucky’s, wrapped their joined hands around his cock. “Like this.” He showed Bucky how to stroke, slow and then fast, rolling over the head to spread pre-come, making things slick and easy. “Just-- oh... yeah. Just like that.” Bucky was a very fast learner.

“Hold on to me,” Bucky told him, pulling Tony in closer, his breath warm against Tony’s neck as he moved his hand, drawing pleasure from the demon’s body. Reaching a fever pitch, Tony’s body was shuddering in Bucky’s arms, and then Bucky leaned down and licked Tony’s horn. No pain, only unimaginable pleasure, ripped through him, stunning him with its bright joy. “I have you, I’ve got you, my prayer. Give me your gift, love.”

Tony had never felt pleasure like this. It surged through his body, erasing the pain and anguish and uncertainty. Bucky’s attention and sweet words made him feel whole, however briefly. Cherished. Loved.

The tears that fell from Tony’s eyes were no less of a relief than the climax that rushed through him, healing and hot and perfect. “Bucky!” The angelic syllables tore out of his throat, echoed off the clouds, and shattered the starlight into fragments as Tony let go and fell into Bucky’s arms.

When Tony came back to himself, Bucky was still humming that glorious multichorded chorus, and wiping Tony’s chest with the corner of his robes. “You might be right,” he told Tony in all seriousness. “It’s a gift. I just cannot quite place who is giving, and who is receiving. A gift, that we give to each other.” He shifted his robes again, and Bucky’s halo slid from the pocket, a glimmering ring of gold against the clouds. “Pesky thing,” Bucky said to it, fondly. He lifted it, and then hung it on Tony’s horn. “Hold this a moment, would you?”  

Tony was so shocked he couldn’t even move for a long moment. An angel never touched another’s halo, never mind handed it over in a moment of -- what? Affectionate playfulness? And Tony was a demon. He could, in theory, do terrible things with a whole halo in his possession. “Bucky!”

“What?” Bucky finished cleaning Tony up and wrapped the spare bits of robe around him. “You know, well, of course you know, angels are the embodiment of the Lord’s love. I’m supposed to love everything that the Lord created. But I’ll tell you a secret,” he said, laughing eyes bright. “I think, of all the Lord’s creations, I love you best.”

You can’t, Tony wanted to say. You mustn’t. Because Tony was no fit vessel for love. He was a black hole, drinking in light and never returning it. He was Fallen, a demon. Surely the Lord’s mandate stopped short when it reached the gates of Hell.

He looked down at the Name shimmering under his skin, and said nothing. He just curled against Bucky’s side and felt Bucky’s wings cradling them, strong and secure and safe.

When Tony woke up, he found himself alone on a bench in the park, body slightly damp with dew. He was wearing clothes he didn’t recognize, mismatched, but concealing him. In one hand, he held a single, white feather.

The soup kitchen was a happy, busy place. The money was flowing in, the love and nutrition flowing out. Bucky had made a few suggestions in the director’s ear, and they were laying down the groundwork to buy an abandoned shopping mall and turn it into low rent and no rent housing, just outside the city. So much good was being done and Bucky was a part of it.

He had to keep damping down his glow. Even the director had commented on it, when he came in to begin the day’s work. “Looks like you had a good time last night,” she had teased.

“I did, thank you,” Bucky had said.

And now, Bucky was taking his turn at the soup line, filling bowls with thick stew, when time stopped.

Gabriel blew in the doors of the shelter, his silver trumpet already at his lips and the blast he sounded dropped a dozen pigeons dead in the streets, caused Mr. Hartwell to seize up, his heart strained. Children burst into tears, cats fled, dogs howled. The sky grew dark and ominous. Bucky dropped the soup ladle and found himself cringing against the wall as Gabriel’s boots rang against the floor.

Bucky didn’t know what the humans saw, a robber, perhaps, a drug-crazed maniac. A kidnapper, or terrorist.

But the director rushed forward, her face set with anger, and she wielded a kitchen knife threateningly against the Angel of Judgement. “Get away from him!”

“No!” Bucky threw himself between Gabriel and the director. “Leave her alone, she’s done no harm to you. I’ll come with you, just… leave them alone, Gabriel. They’re good people. They’re doing the Lord’s work.”

Gabriel looked past Bucky, through him, at the director. Weighing. Judging. Finally, he focused on Bucky and lifted his empty hand to point. “Outside, then.”

“Call an ambulance for Mr. Hartwell,” Bucky told the director, then kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. You… take care of everything here. Lord’s blessing on you.” He sealed that with his kiss; she would be protected, unless Gabriel wanted to take it up with the Lord. Terror and rage battled it out in his chest, nothing he should ever be feeling in the presence of an archangel.

He shed his human vessel as soon as he passed the threshold, vanishing from the human world. He went to Gabriel and supplicated himself, kneeling at Gabriel’s feet until his forehead touched the ground, reaching for the hem of Gabriel’s robes to kiss the fabric.

“What have you done?” Gabriel demanded. “I sent you here to repent.”

“Is this not good work?” Bucky asked, keeping his face down. “We are feeding near to five hundred people a day, getting ready to home nearly a thousand. It’s small, I know, but I’m only starting. I have brought hope, joy, faith, to at least a dozen or more.”

“And lost your own way so badly as to consort with demons!” snapped Gabriel.

“Tony is one of the Lord’s children, the same as you, or I,” Bucky said. He was petrified. Gabriel hated demons, hated them with a fervor that was unseemly in an angelic heart. Sometimes, Bucky wondered, if Gabriel didn’t hate Lucifer more than he loved the Lord. That was sinful, unworthy of Bucky to think it and he cowered closer to the ground, practically crawling. Debasing himself before one of the eldest.

“Hardly the same,” Gabriel growled. “And you have let it infect you with its lies, lain with it. The stench of Hell surrounds you like a cloud.”

“He didn’t lie,” Bucky protested. “He’s not an it, not a monster. Don’t speak about him like that!”

Thunder cracked. “How dare you? You defile your God-given body with that creature, and then dare to defy me?”

“He’s not a creature!” Bucky had never experienced righteousness. The purity of emotion that rose up on behalf of another, to defend and protect. But it grew inside him like a white ball of light until he was breaking at the seams from it. “Tony cares about me!” And the light exploded, blowing Gabriel right off his feet to tumble down the street, until the archangel was on the ground, staring up at Bucky with wide eyes.

It wasn’t until he was standing, proud and strong, over Gabriel, that Bucky realized what he’d done. Oh, oh, oh, no! He’d struck a superior, he’d raised his Grace against an archangel. That he’d knocked Gabriel down with the force of it said nothing, except that Gabriel could not have expected the blow.

Bucky went to his belly on the ground, agast. Horrified with himself. “I’m sorry, forgive me, forgive me, I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“Silence.” Gabriel rose to his feet, and a little beyond that, hovering over Bucky, wings outstretched in fury. “You teeter on the precipice, child of Samael. Have a care, or you will Fall. Or perhaps that is your intention.”

“I… just want to stay,” Bucky pleaded. “Finish the work. I’m doing good work. Let me stay, you’ll see.”

Gabriel was silent for a long while. It seemed years passed before he finally spoke again. “When our Lord allows me to sound the call to the Final Battle,” he said, his beautiful voice cold, “I will not hesitate to join the Host. I will lay down my trumpet and take up the sword, and I will destroy your precious Tony without a thought. And you as well, if you stand between us. Do you hear me, child?”

“Oh, Gabriel,” Bucky said, suddenly filled with sorrow. He stood, reached out for the elder. “When did you lose your Grace?”

Gabriel’s expression darkened, and the wind howled down the long-empty street. “Stay, if you will. Or Fall, if Lucifer will have you. But you are no longer welcome in Heaven.” He lifted his trumpet to his lips and blew a note that, if the humans could have heard it, surely would have destroyed them, rendered them into dust and ash. It pierced Bucky’s ears and heart and soul until he screamed and fell to his knees in pain and terror.

When it stopped and Bucky could see again, Gabriel was gone, and something... was wrong.

Bucky pulled his wings around him, cowering inside them. He reached his hand into his pocket, his fingers grasping for his halo.

A sharp spike of pain in his fingers and he pulled them out, full of dread. The golden blood of an angel dripped from his fingertips and the remnants of his shattered halo was held in his palm.

Bucky gave out a soft, agonized sob. “Father,” he cried out. “Why have You forsaken me?”

The sound sliced through Tony like a shockwave, more a feeling than a noise. He lifted his head sharply from his contemplation of the feather in his hand. He knew that instrument. He knew that note. If it continued much longer--

But it was gone. Tony slumped back against the park bench, heart pounding in fear and hope. It hadn’t stretched long enough to unmake an angel, though something had been destroyed. Tony wondered if he dared investigate.

He should feel more satisfaction. He had corrupted an angel; Bucky’s Fall was no doubt imminent. But that... only made him sad.

The ground at Tony’s feet heaved, like a large, angry mole was digging around under there, until the soil tore and Pepper clawed her way out. Tony preferred other, more dignified ways to travel, but he had to admit, Pepper’s method was quick. “Well, it sounds like someone’s having a bad morning,” she said, brushing dirt off her vessel in quick flicks of her hand. “We’re counting this as a win for the bad guys?”

“I guess so,” Tony admitted. He stuffed his hand into his pocket, feeling for the feather there.

“I have all the paperwork here,” Pepper said. “I need a drop of blood to process him into the middle circles. We can have him dragged, if he won’t sign. Make sure he knows it’s a slow climb, if we take him unwillingly. But if he comes with us, we can fast-track him. It’s been a while since you’ve had a new assistant. But I could really use some help, so well done, Tony-- Tony? Are you all right?”

“What? I’m... I guess.” Tony could feel every tiny ridge of the feather against his fingertips. “It’s just, he was so... So bright and hopeful and happy. He doesn’t deserve... this.”

Pepper waved a hand; she couldn’t actually conjure food and coffee, but there was probably some hipster across town suddenly missing their breakfast. It was one of her talents, and usually Tony enjoyed it, eating something meant for someone else. Literally taking candy from babies. “Since when have you cared about what they deserve?” Pepper asked. “Tony, this is a big win, here!”

Tony rounded on her. “It’s all about what they deserve, Pep! That’s the whole point! The whole system is explicitly set up to reward the worthy and punish the unworthy. And he doesn’t deserve this! He doesn’t deserve me.”

“What about what you deserve, Tony?” Pepper asked. “Right now, I think you deserve a doughnut and some espresso, because you’re just not yourself when you’re hungry. As far as the system goes, we’ve needed an overhaul of the system for years. It’s been on the agenda at every Diabolic Conference for the last ten generations at least. The act of buying indulgences has been on the books for so long, the really horrible sinners are getting a Fast Pass. Honestly, we’re not Walt Disney.”

“If only we had their numbers,” Tony muttered, almost by reflex, and then he shook himself. “Pepper, I can’t... I have to try to make this right.” He shoved the coffee and doughnut back into her hands and set off into the city as fast as his vessel’s legs would carry him.

Gabriel sure left his mark on a place; where his powers had touched the human world, there was destruction and chaos. Cops and SWAT teams lined the perimeter. A frantic woman described how a terrorist with a suicide bomb had come into the homeless shelter, and that their new, bravest employee, everyone loved him, and taken the man outside, and gently talked him down, until the man had gone mad and depressed the trigger.

She was sobbing as she told the story.

Ambulances were attending the injured.

Near the door, there was a crater, as if there really had been some explosion. A soft, barely there sound reached Tony’s ears. Muffled sobbing, as if so great that it was leaking through the Veil.

Tony shed his vessel -- the last thing he wanted was to deal with well-meaning but useless humans -- and swept through, a cold shiver of a wind for those crossing his path. It was physically hard to enter the crater; the echo of the note lingered there, painful static on Tony’s skin. He pushed through it anyway, because Bucky was there, kneeling at the center of the crater, wings curled protectively around himself as he sobbed.

Tony was surprised -- and relieved -- to see those wings still intact. There was some hope, then, that Tony hadn’t utterly destroyed him.

And no hope, really, that he would want to see Tony, not when Tony was the author of all this pain. But he was helpless to walk away. He stopped just outside of Bucky’s wingspan and watched for an endless moment. He couldn’t move, not until he realized that he was rubbing at the palm of his hand, thumb dragging back and forth across Bucky’s Name. Tony forced his hands to his side and air into his chest. “Bucky?”

“Tony!” Bucky cried out and for a moment, Tony wasn’t certain that he wasn’t being attacked, but Bucky tucked his face against Tony’s throat, using Tony’s strength to hold himself up. “Tony, Tony, Tony, he broke it! He broke it! Gabriel broke it!”

Tony almost staggered under the sudden weight, but managed to keep them upright. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “What did he break?”

Bucky gulped down more tears, then opened his hand. Laying in the palm were three crescents, dull and black and pockmarked. “I only spoke the truth, and he shattered it,” Bucky wailed. There wasn’t even enough of Bucky’s halo left to form a decent pair of horns; they’d just be tiny spikes on either side of his head, no longer than an inch or two. Not enough to grant Bucky any demonic powers. He’d be a lesser imp, never capable of anything more than the strength of all celestial beings.  A foot soldier, sacrificed for a hill in the Last War.

Tony swallowed, hard. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s my fault.” He reached out, then hesitated. Touching an angel’s halo or a demon’s horns was... Bucky had touched Tony’s horns. Bucky had looped his halo over Tony’s horns, and-- Tony brushed a finger along the curve of one short crescent. “I did this.”

“No, you didn’t,” Bucky said. He wiped his cheeks angrily, smearing tears across his perfect face. “Gabriel did it. Gabriel did it, punishment for me, for daring… for daring to care about a demon. Gabriel has harbored hatred in his heart. He has lost his Grace.”

Bucky sighed, slid the pieces of his halo back into his pocket. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. I’m not ashamed. I don’t regret anything I’ve done. The Lord has not judged me; Gabriel did.”

Because I tempted you. A new demon -- even if only an imp -- and news of Gabriel’s lost Grace would definitely bring Tony back into the Boss’ good books. At least for a while.

It wouldn’t even be that hard to convince Bucky to come with him, to finish Falling. To convince the angel that punishing the damned was still part of the Lord’s work. The words sprang easily to Tony’s tongue.

They tasted bitter, though. Tony found his hand in his pocket again, stroking the feather.

He took the feather out and looked at it. Angel feathers didn’t just fall out; they had to be removed. Not unlike...

“I can fix it,” Tony heard himself saying. “Give me the pieces. I can fix it.”

Bucky didn’t even ask; didn’t even hesitate. After everything that happened, Bucky still trusted Tony, implicitly and absolutely. A few slivers and a handful of what was practically dust. “I would do it again,” Bucky told him. “You’re not a monster. You’re not a thing. Gabriel had no right to say it.”

“I am absolutely a monster,” Tony said. “I am a terror in the dark. I tempt the good into sin, and sinners into damnation. But I am going to fix this. You are going Home.” He sat down there, in the center of the crater, and laid out the pieces of Bucky’s halo, every tiny sliver and speck of dust. It wasn’t enough, because of course it wasn’t, but that was all right, because Tony had his own pieces.

He didn’t look at Bucky, and he didn’t let himself think about the consequences. He grasped at his own horns and pulled.

It hurt. It hurt nearly as much as the Fall had hurt, nearly as much as losing his wings. He kept pulling. For Bucky.

At last, they came free, a pair of pitted black arcs. Tony laid them carefully next to Bucky’s pieces and measured. It would be enough, just. “I was a smith,” Tony said softly. “I built halos, before the War.” He summoned his fire -- it had been Holy fire, once upon a time, cleansing and shaping. Now it was profane, a balefyre that consumed and destroyed. But it obeyed his command, and he needed it to forge the pieces together.

He wiped blood from his face, running down out of his hair, out of the holes where his horns had been, and flung that into the fire, as well. If he was going to sacrifice his power and his standing and -- quite probably -- his existence to save the angel, then he might as well leave some of himself in the halo. Let some small piece of him return Home.

Time and space only existed when he wanted them to. He squeezed into the space between seconds, slipped into the molecules of matter, and pulled the pieces of the halo together. Bucky’s pieces joined to one another eagerly; they already knew each other. He expected it would be more difficult to join his own horns into the curve, but -- he had almost forgotten, again, Bucky hanging the halo against his horn. They knew each other. Tony tested the seams, and found it solid, if simple.

The fire licked away the black scarring, leaving a halo in its place, thinner than it had once been and more silver than gold, but true and whole. Tony released his fire and slid back into the world, and finally, allowed himself to look at Bucky again.

“What… what did you do?” Bucky was staring at him, eyes wide and awestruck. “Tony, what did you do?”

“I fixed it,” Tony said. “It just needed some parts.”

Bucky stretched out his hand. Tony thought he was reaching for the halo, but then, past it. “Tony-- oh, God’s glory, Tony… look what you did.” He touched something over Tony’s shoulder and a shock of sensation rippled down his skin and into his spine. “Tony… look at this.” He tugged, and it was reminiscent of someone pulling his tail, or… his wings?

Bucky drew the feathers over Tony’s shoulder. Not white, like an angel’s, but brilliant red and gold, like the very heart of his fires.

Tony’s throat closed, and he had to swallow around it. “I didn’t. That’s-- I didn’t do this.” He lifted a shaking hand to feel the feathers, soft coverts and stiff primaries. He stretched the wings out and they obeyed him, splaying wide. The muscles felt stiff, unused, but whole and strong. “How...?” He didn’t realize he was weeping until he looked at Bucky again and found Bucky’s face blurred.

“You… you’re Forgiven, Tony,” Bucky said, and he gently took the halo out of Tony’s hands and set it over Tony’s head. It hovered there a moment, then settled, filling him with Grace. “You can go Home.” Bucky stepped back, to look at Tony in all his glory. “Of all God’s creations, you’re the one I love best. Go Home, Tony. Go Home. You deserve it.”

Home. He could go Home. He could resume his place at the forge, could bask in the Lord’s presence, could-- Never see Bucky again.

Tony took off the halo. “No. Not without you.”

“Tony--” Bucky fingers brushed over the halo, and Tony felt it, like an extension of himself, down his fingers and into his palm where Bucky’s name was etched on his skin. Bucky brushed his thumb over Tony’s temples, Healing the gaping wounds there, wiping the blood clean. “You sacrificed everything for me. You should… there’s not enough here, not for both of us. If you don’t… what will we do?”

Tony caught Bucky’s hand and lifted it to his lips. “There’s enough Grace between us to stay out of Hell. That’s all we need. With one halo between us, not quite all the way to being angels, but not Fallen, either. We can stay here. We can... we can do good. Here. We don’t need to be angels for that.”

“I told Gabriel you weren’t a monster,” Bucky said. He pulled himself closer to Tony, tilted his head, and claimed Tony’s mouth for a kiss. “Of all the Lord’s creations, I love you best.”

Tony pressed his mouth into Bucky’s palm, breathing into it the Name he had lost and now recovered. “I love you, Bucky. Into eternity, I love you.”

The Lord tilted His head to one side. “I’m surprised to see you, Luci. Do come in, have a seat. What can I do for you?”

Lucifer stalked in, tail whipping from side to side like an angry cat’s. “Don’t come over all inscrutable on me,” he growled. “And don’t try to tell me that you saw that coming. There’s no way you planned that. And now we’ve both lost!”

“Need I remind you that I work in mysterious ways?” The Lord waited until Lucifer was fuming, smoke pouring out of his ears. “I didn’t lose him. Bucky’s a good boy, if a touch rebellious. A bit too obsessed with the television. One might say I learned something, from the last time I had a spot of the mutinous to deal with.”

Lucifer huffed. His horns nearly formed a perfect circle, only a jagged crack between them. “And Tony is still an expert at temptation and mayhem, even if he’s got some soft spots. What do we do now?”

“Well, I’d like to offer amnesty -- there’s a demon in your employ who’s been bringing up some system overhauls. Yes, I have a spy in your midst, Luci, don’t give me that look. I know you have them, too. She has some interesting ideas. And this-- those boys? They may be our best hope for mending our fences.”

Lucifer looked startled. “Mending our fences?”

The Lord gazed at Lucifer, His eyes soft. “I did wrongly by you, Morningstar. Maybe it’s time for all of Us to let go Our old grudges and try to be a family again?” He offered His hand to Lucifer Morningstar, once the best and brightest of the angels.

Lucifer took the Lord’s hand gingerly, as if expecting it to burn. When it didn’t, he let out a soft breath and sank to one knee. “Thy will be done,” he murmured, “as always.”

“In the meanwhile… Gabriel has lost his Grace. Maybe you could take him under your wing?”

Lucifer was on his feet again, grin showing sharp teeth. “Has he, now? Well. He’s going to be stubborn about it, too, I expect. That’ll be fun.”

[crowleysqueenofhellwithasmile]

Opposites Attract

Pairing: God!Chuck X Demon!reader 

Warnings: Talks of drug and alcohol abuse, implied abuse, Smut, eh fluff. 

Summary(really suck at these honestly lol): The Princess of Hell gets sent to see the Winchesters only to meet God and start to have feelings toward the way he makes her feel. 

A/N: there may or may not be other parts to this. c: Leave a comment on what you think!!

Words:1448

You walk through the kingdom quietly, servants slightly bowing to you as you walked by. You smiled at them sweetly before continuing down the hall, after all they feared your father more than you. Upon entering the throne room, you hear your father, Crowley, yelling at a servant in front of him. Amara was causing quite the problems in hell. You smile at Rowena as you walk over she kisses your hand. You of course weren’t Crowley’s real daughter, but he took a shine to you after selling your soul and well the rest is history. Now you lived under his protection in the abandoned mental hospital they called the kingdom.

“What seems to be the problem now?” You asked the Scottish woman next to you.

“Fergus is upset because there seems to be another player in our chess match against Amara.” Crowley glared slightly at his mother though his expression softened when he looked at you.

“Darling… I need you to go see the Winchesters at their bunker for me please. I have no time with the chaos going on here.” You smiled nodding at the man. You walked over placing a kiss on his forehead.

“Don’t stress too much father. I would say you’ll work yourself to death but…” You trailed off smirking slightly. He gave you a fake laugh that was filled with love before sending you on your way.

 “Hello boys.” You smirked as you walked into the bunker. Dean looked up at you sighing slightly.

“Where’s Crowley?”

“Busy with hell things… he sends his regards though.” You say as you finish walking down the stairs. “Come on don’t act like you’re not happy to see me Deano.”

“Hey, Crowley here yet?” Sam asked as he walked into the room.

“No, he sent the princess instead.” Dean sighed motioning to you. You rolled your eyes before walking deeper into the bunker. A man walked in then, he was scruffier, but his eyes made you stop in your tracks. They were a sapphire blue and looked so innocent yet so worn down.

“Who’s your company?” You ask looking him up and down.

“Chuck Y/N. Y/N Chuck.” You extended your hand to the man and he took it shaking it slightly.

“So, Chuck… what are you doing with the Winchesters. I’m much more fun.” You winked making the man chuckle nervously before looking to the boys.

“She’s the princess of hell.” Sam said. You curtsied playfully.

“There’s a princess of hell?” Chuck asked, the boys nodded, Dean rolling his eyes.

“Y/N this is God. Treat Him with respect… don’t flirt with him.” You smirked looking him up and down again. He wasn’t a player in the game he should be the coach. “When’s Crowley coming?”

“Once he finishes up some hell stuff.” You say over your shoulder looking back at God quickly. “I never thought you were real.” You say. “I mean I know about heaven and hell trust me, well only after I died… I just,” You raise your hand to touch him and he lets you gently run your hand over his stubble. You felt emotion flow through you for the first time, actual human emotion. You backed away from him then. “Anyway, I’ll be in the library till my father comes.” You say clearing your throat before walking out.

 Sam and Dean left for food leaving Chuck in the bunker alone with the princess. He looked toward the library thinking about the way you looked at him when your hand was on his face. He walked into the room clearing his throat making you look up at him.

“Oh, can I help you?” You asked a little sassily wanting him to leave you alone.

“Yeah Sam and Dean are gone for food.” You nodded at him looking back at the book. “You know I used to be a writer. Still kind of dabble in it a bit.” You made the page turn by flicking your finger in the air slightly, it was easier to read that way. “What happened in there?” You sighed slamming the book shut.

“Look God or whatever, I’m just here cause my father sent me… I have no reason to be around you or your stupid magic or whatever. I’m a demon.”

“You were a human girl once don’t you remember that?”

“Don’t you remember my prayers? Or did you not hear them Mr. High Almighty Lord and Savior.” You rolled your eyes. “Bullshit.” You mumbled. “I had to sell my soul just to get away from my drunk father and my crack addicted mother… Crowley is more of a savior than you ever will be.” You looked away from the man then standing. He grabbed your hand before you could walk away.

“I heard your prayers but,” he sighed. “You didn’t wait long enough for me to do anything. I might be god but I’m not a miracle worker. Trust me I’m far from perfect, hell look at all the shit going on right now. Half of it is my fault.” You just nodded.

“Well I’m happy now, with what I am. I’m stronger, I could destroy them both in a second flat if I really wanted to.”

“But you’re not bad. You may be a demon Y/N but you’re not bad. What you felt was the good. You felt the human side of you again.” He put your hand to his face again. you felt it again, it was like a golden light washed over you. You fell into his lap and he gently kissed the back of your head. “Come. Let me help you.” He said leading you to the bedroom. You allowed him to, wanting nothing more than his hands on more parts of your body.

He laid you down gently onto the bed running his hands up your dress. He had never felt this way with anyone else and doubted that he ever would. There was something special about you, maybe it was the fall from grace. Or maybe just the fact that he could make you a demon feel better. He kissed your lips the warmth making you gasp and wrap your arms around him. He moved the dress up your body slowly before over your head tossing it to the side. He admired your body taking in every curve. Maybe he liked you because you both weren’t in your exact forms. You both got to choose what you wanted to be. He kissed you again and this time you snapped your fingers making you both completely nude. He laughed under his breath being as he’s never had someone to do that to him. He spread your legs running his fingers up and down your wet folds, coaxing a small moan from your lips. He smiled coming back up.

“You’re very wet princess.” He kissed you gently, you could feel his member rub against your folds.

“Please Chuck.” He smirked down at your begging.

“I’ve never been with a demon.” He looked down at your body again before entering you with one push, you let a moan feeling every inch of him inside of you. He was the perfect size stretching you just enough as he gripped you’re hips softly. He kissed you again as he picked up his pace, you moaned pulling him close to you. The warmth and light still chasing away the dark that filled you. He went fast hearing you moan more in response, you held on to the headboard slightly as he bent our legs up so your knees were over your shoulders. He held under your knees as he went faster loving the feeling of you wrapped around him.

“You’re so tight.” He groaned as he picked up the pace. You moaned as you bod began to shake. “Cum for me princess.” He whispered looking down at you. You screamed as you came, he smiled feeling the wetness as he kept the pace groaning himself before he filled you.

 “That was amazing.” You breathed from your place next to him in bed. He turned to face you wrapping his arm around your waist gently.

“Maybe we can do it again sometime.” He smirked, closing his eyes. You listened to the boys walking in and calling for you both, but you didn’t answer only closing your eyes and snapping your fingers to lock the door. You felt too good to deal with the Winchesters, they’d have to wait for morning for any answers. Frankly, you didn’t exactly know what to say to them about what happened, you kind of felt like you were falling for the man next to you. No not man, God. Was that even legal?

Part two!

[zephfair]

Day 2 Bleach ficlet

Day 2 of the 30-Day AU Challenge by tomowowowo and boomchickfanfiction

Day 2: Knight AU

Sir Ichigo is called to go out and slay the fearsome monster wreacking havoc in the land, Lady Rukia is loathe to give him a token because he’s a fool, and Grimmjow just wants to be left alone to bask in the sun and sleep.

Rated Teen for language and mention of blood and injuries

Pre-Grimmjow/Ichigo

“You fool,” said Lady Rukia in such a scathing voice that the servant sweeping behind her chair dropped his broom with a clatter.

“Yeah, whatever,” answered Sir Ichigo continuing to clean out his ear with his little finger.

“You are truly the most imbecilic...listen to me when I’m talking at you!” Her aim was true but he caught the chalice a mere inch from his head. He was too busy smirking to realize that the silver plate was following it closely and so caught it with his face.

“Ow, Rukia, lay off with the abuse.” Ichigo rubbed his forehead and met her glare for glare. “You know I have to do it.”

“You do not have to do anything. You are allowing them to bully you into—”

“And how is it any different from all the times I’ve been bullied into doing things that you want me to do?”

“Into becoming another pawn of the throne,” Rukia smoothly ignored him with great practice to finish her thought.

“They promised me this is the last time,” he muttered lowly.

“Oh, Ichigo,” and now her voice sounded almost sad and it made Ichigo wince for the first time, “it will never be the last time, not until one of these ridiculous quests ends fatally. For you.”

Ichigo shook his head, as much to clear away that thought as to disagree with her. “You know that when I took up the sword and was knighted so quickly, they said I could get our family honor reinstated. And you know what that’ll mean for my sisters. They won’t have to deal with all the crap that our disgraced old man brought upon us.”

“And I told you that I will happily bring your sisters here, into the Kuchiki house, and care for them.”

“I have to do something myself to protect them. And to protect the kingdom. I’m the only one who can.”

“Now it sounds like you’re believing your own hype, the very stories they tell about you.” She got up and walked over to his seat. She looked away but not before she barely brushed her fingers along his forearm then tucked her hands into her long sleeves.

“You mean you don’t believe that I pulled my sword from a stone and then saved the kingdom when all the king’s knights—including your fair brother—had fallen?”

Rukia knocked her knuckles into his head but much more gently than usual. “You’re forgetting that I know the true tale of how you accidentally fell into a battle to protect your sisters, taking up a sword that one of my guards had dropped, and had some unnatural talent at it. It was only fortuitous timing that the kingdom came under attack and our king needed every available warrior he could find.” She sniffed. “Even the commoner ones.”

“That does sound more like it,” Ichigo admitted.

“But it doesn’t explain why you keep letting them send you into impossible battles.”

“Because they keep facing impossible foes. And I keep winning. Somehow.”

“Oh, Ichigo.” Rukia bent until she was level with him and took his face in her hands. “Do you have a death wish?” He struggled to get free but she held on and shook him a little. “You could stop now, tell the king he has his own army manned up, and take the spoils of war you’ve earned.”

“I think he’s going to promise me a princess next,” Ichigo joked but Rukia didn’t laugh.

“Do you want to marry a princess?”

“No,” Ichigo said firmly.

“Do you want to marry me?”

“Wow, Rukia, I’m flattered but I don’t feel that way—”

“Peasant,” she said affectionately and released his face with a final shake.

“Plus I know that the Lady Kuchiki is harboring a dirty little secret—her inexplicable love for her brother’s squire Ren—”

“I don’t want to marry you either,” her voice was all cool hauteur now but Ichigo could see the blush beginning on her cheeks. “I only thought it would give you a way out.”  

“I don’t want a way out. Yet. I want to do this quest then get back to make sure Yuzu and Karin are safe and sound. Did I tell you Yuzu wants to attend the royal college? And Karin swears she’ll become the first female squire.”

“You’ve said,” Rukia smiled wanly. “If anyone can, I believe it will be she. But Ichigo—”

“So all I have to do is defeat the beast and come home to them. Then I can retire and maybe take up training the other knights.”

“And find a nice little princess to marry. Or prince?” Rukia ran her hand through his hair.

Ichigo grabbed her hand and squeezed. “All I want is the freedom to decide. It’s just one more quest. What can go wrong?”

He rode out the very next morning with great fanfare stirred up by the king’s own trumpeters and Rukia deigned to lean over the battlement and thrust a scarf in his face. “You may take this token,” she said woodenly and Ichigo was tempted—just for an instant—to grab it and wipe his nose but she shot him a look. He’d probably find the token shoved up a very uncomfortable part of his anatomy if he tried it.

Instead he accepted it and bent over her hand and when he knew no one can see, he blew a quick raspberry on her hand instead of kissing it. Then he smiled cheekily and rode off before he could hear the interested whispers of why his very touch left the Lady Rukia with such high color.

The first days of travel were not cumbersome, and Ichigo saw nothing out of the ordinary. The land still showed signs of blight and devastation caused by the last war. Villagers came out of their homes to see him ride past, but none of them looked as starved or terrified as they had the year before. Ichigo supposed some of the kingdom’s relief efforts were working.

It was the farthest reaches of the kingdom that were still having trouble, along the border with Las Noches. King Aizen had sent word that several villages in both kingdoms had been destroyed by a mysterious beast, and although he had sent knights to investigate, they had returned with nothing but hearsay. He had specifically requested the famed Knight Ichigo to lead charge into the area to see what was causing the problems and eradicate it.

What Aizen, and indeed no one outside the king’s most trusted advisers, didn’t know was that there weren’t enough knights left to send anyone else. They were slowly building their numbers again and even allowing commoners, as Ichigo was called, to join, but it would take some time before they were well-trained.

So Ichigo found himself alone again winding his way through the wilds of the kingdom with only a map provided by the king’s great mage Urahara. Ichigo sincerely hoped the rather vague map was at least pointing him in the right direction. He’d had enough problems with Urahara’s inventions in the past to put his whole faith in them.

Then on one dark night when he should have been well within the desolate territory of Las Noches, he was attacked.

*******

Grimmjow let out a yawn that practically unhinged his jaw. He’d found the perfect place for napping: a large flat rock that held the heat from the direct morning sun for hours but was high enough on the hill that he could sense anyone approaching for a mile. On the cool but sunny days of spring, it felt like heaven.

Now he rose to his feet and stretched, forearms reaching to their full length, rear popping up in the air as his back bowed and then relaxed. Then he sat down where the rock was still warm and yawned again.

Morning nap complete, it was almost time to start looking for lunch. Then his nose twitched when he caught the faint scent and he snarled before he could stop himself.

“What the fuck do you want, Ulquiorra? You know this is my territory,” he asked when the other had drawn close enough to hear. Then Grimmjow realized he could also smell blood. Ears perked, he loped toward the figure coming out of the trees.

The great horned bat stopped before he left the dark shade of the trees, and Grimmjow stayed a cautious distance away. He knew that Ulquiorra could withstand the full sunlight, but he apparently didn’t like it.

“What the hell happened to you? You look like shit.”

“There was a knight on the other side of the mountain. Lord Aizen sent me to capture him, but I—” Ulquiorra had to stop and cough and Grimmjow was surprised to see blood.

“How many knights?”

“Just the one,” Ulquiorra gasped when he’d caught his breath.

“Bullshit, no matter how weak you are, there’s no way that one human could do that much damage to you. Was he human?”

Ulquiorra wasn’t fatally injured, Grimmjow knew, because the hate-filled look he sent was full of his usual venom. “Lord Aizen said the Shinigami were sending their greatest knight with a battalion to answer his fake plea for help. But when I arrived, there was no battalion, just the one man. I planned to take him back to our lord but then he put up such a fight that I never imagined a human could attain. Things got a little out of hand.”

“So you just killed him?” Grimmjow was greatly disappointed.

“I tried,” Ulquiorra’s flat voice could have been used to level a house. “He still has some life left in him. I was carrying him back when I required a stop for rest.”

“In other words, he fucked you up so bad you can’t fly and carry him.”

Ulquiorra ignored the taunt and said, “I will leave his body here for the day. I am sure Szayelaporro can have me healed by tomorrow and I will return to pick him up then.”

“If you leave me with a dying or dead human, who’s to say you’ll find anything but bones when you return?” Grimmjow’s tail snapped with the thought.

“You won’t eat him unless you want to incur the wrath of Lord Aizen.”

“So I have to play nursemaid? I’m sure as hell not trying to patch up food! If you wanted him in prime shape, then you shouldn’t have tried to kill him.”

“It was self-defense, I can assure you.” The worst thing was, Grimmjow actually believed him. Ulquiorra had some massive injuries.

“Tch. Fine, then go and get yourself healed up so you can take this stupid ass off my hands.”

“I left him in your cave.”

“Damn it, Ulquiorra—”

“I will return as soon as possible.” And with that, Ulquiorra took to the sky, wobbling unsteadily, one wing torn, the other with a large hole. Grimmjow watched him flying until he was only a speck in the sky. He would have loved to have seen the prissy hardass crash, but today just wasn’t his day.

It really wasn’t his day now that he had a fucking human in his very home and he couldn’t even use him as a snack. He leaped up the rocky face of the cliff to the cave where he slept. It was practically impossible to climb up to it for a human or down from the top of the cliff which made it the best spot to defend. Unfortunately, it was accessible from the air.

Grimmjow padded in on silent feet through the gloom at the mouth of the cave. The stench of human had already permeated it—blood and sweat and some other tangy odor that wasn’t completely horrible.

Then he got a good look at the human. His armor had been no defense at all against Ulquiorra and most of it was missing along with the clothing underneath. There was a terrible, deep wound in the middle of his chest, and as Grimmjow nosed closer, the sound of his breathing was faint and gurgling.

Grimmjow reared back. Fucking Ulquiorra. The human didn’t have long to live at all by the sound of those lungs. He would come back whenever he felt like it and find Grimmjow with a dead body and blame him for it. Then Grimmjow would feel the wrath of Lord Aizen. Again. Shit.

Grimmjow paced the narrow length of the cave, thinking of any viable solution. Then he caught another whiff of that unidentifiable smell. He edged closer to the human, keeping one eye on the slack face just in case, and snuffled at his chest. There was blood and decay already, of course, but there was another underlying scent that intrigued him.

He leaned a little too close and his forehead brushed against the grievous wound. The human jolted just a little and Grimmjow skittered back in haste. Although the human didn’t wake, Grimmjow realized then what the scent must be as it rose in time with the human’s pulse.

It was reiatsu, raw spiritual power. Grimmjow looked over the human more appreciatively. No wonder he’d given Ulquiorra so much trouble if he was so full of power that he was still leaking it even while he was at death’s door.

Huh, it sucked that the bat got to enjoy a fight against an opponent such as that while Grimmjow hadn’t had anything more exciting than a village to terrorize for the past few months.

He wondered...and then he remembered.

He’d heard that Lord Aizen had captured a special girl from one of the villages he’d sent his Arrancars to destroy. She was said to have special healing powers that Aizen thought could be very important. But Grimmjow had been told he was keeping her outside the castle in case anyone linked her back to the town’s destruction.

And Grimmjow was sure he knew where Aizen was hiding her. There was a tower deep in the forest on the next mountain that Grimmjow had seen while hunting. The last time he’d been near, he smelled Arrancar and human mixed but paid it no attention.

Another burbling gasp from the human made up his mind. It wouldn’t hurt anything for him to check it out. If he could bring back the healer, fine. If the knight died while he was gone, even better. Then he could drag the body out and let it topple down the cliff. Then he could tell Aizen that he must have tried to crawl away while Grimmjow was out. It probably wouldn’t stop his punishment but maybe it would mitigate it.

Grimmjow snorted at the thought and ran off.

*******

His reasoning was sound, Grimmjow was pleased to find out, as he crept closer through the scrub toward the tower. Maybe his shit luck was finally turning because he could only smell two of the lowest class female Arrancars inside, along with a human scent.

He circled the tower until he realized there was no visible door. Then he roared in frustration and let fly a cero blast. There were shouts from the open window high on the tower’s face, but Grimmjow entered the hole he’d created through the stones. There was a spiral staircase inside, missing some steps, but he bounded up easily enough and hit the door shoulder first. It exploded inward, and Grimmjow took a stand to face whoever was inside.

The human was on the floor, staring at him in horror, and the two female Arrancars stood between them. “What are you doing here?” one of them screamed.

“How did you get in?” shrieked the other, flapping her wings in distress.

“Give me the human healer. Now,” Grimmjow snarled.

“No fucking way,” the first yelled, pulled in her wings tightly and charged at him.

There was no real fight. Grimmjow outmatched them so greatly in power that he only had to snap his jaws once to pull the first one out of the air then step on her chest to hold her down while he faced the second. She attacked, surely knowing it was futile, and he reached up out of the air with his forelegs to grab her and then bite her neck.

He felt a sudden unfamiliar weight on his back and snarled through his mouthful.  “Please don’t kill them,” the human female begged, apparently trying to loosen his hold. He spat out the Arrancar and hit her head with one heavy paw.

“You don’t look like you’re in great shape either,” he said, looking closely at the human and taking in the bruises on her face for the first time.

“They don’t mean to. They take care of me,” she said, finally dropping off him.

“They’re doing a shit job,” he said. She shook her head frantically.

“They just don’t know how strong they are. Please, don’t kill them.”

Grimmjow stared into the eyes of the human female and sighed. He stepped off the one and batted at the second. “I won’t kill them if you come with me.”

“Why?”

Huh, the female was ballsier than he would have thought. “You’re a healer, right? You come with me and heal someone, and I’ll let them go.”

“O-okay,” the female said and got to her feet. She hurried to a cupboard and started throwing things onto a table.

“What the hell are you doing? Come on, let’s go,” he growled warningly when one of the Arrancars twitched.

“I’ll need some things,” she told him. He let her pack the things into a bag and sling it across her chest. “I’m ready.”

Then it hit Grimmjow with an almost physical force—he hadn’t thought about getting the female back to the cave. “Oh fuck. You’re going to have to ride me.”

“What?!” the girl shrank back, clutching her bag in front of her.

Grimmjow shot her a look from narrowed eyes. “You will never speak of this. Ever.”

“I promise,” she swore and clambered onto his hard, plated back. Grimmjow was fervently glad the two Arrancars were still unconscious or he would’ve had to kill them for seeing his shame. Then he took off back to his cave.

****

The human male was still in the same position Grimmjow had left him, but his breathing sounded even worse. The female—Orihime, she’d told him breathlessly as he’d run as swiftly as he dared—cried out and hurried to his side. She talked to the knight and pulled things out of her bag as Grimmjow sat back out of the way.

Then she turned to him and said, “I’m going to have to use magic to save him. This will take a while.”

“Do what you have to, woman,” Grimmjow said. He watched through narrowed eyes as she called forth something that he’d never seen before. The little glowing flies formed some kind of force field over the knight, and Grimmjow’s nose itched from the smell of power surrounding him.

The female took a moment to settle herself more comfortably on the rocky floor of the cave. “Why do you want him healed?” she finally broke the silence between them. “Don’t you all just kill the knights that try to help the villages?”

Grimmjow rumbled low in his throat and she lowered her eyes. “Aizen wants him alive. But if you can get him healed up, I want to fight him.”

“Why? Just so you can hurt him all over again?”

“I didn’t do that to him.” his tail lashed out and hit the rock wall so hard pebbles showered the floor. “But he feels very powerful. I bet he’d be fun to fight.”

“Fun,” the female said under her breath. “Don’t you Arrancars ever get tired of fighting?”

“Ha, that’s why Lord Aizen made us. To fight for him.���

“I don’t believe that,” the female said quietly but then was distracted when the knight’s arm suddenly moved. She took his hand in hers and leaned over to say something.

Grimmjow stalked out of the cave and went looking for dinner.

He didn’t bother to save any of his kill for the human; he’d already smelled her put food stuff in the bag she carried. But as he sauntered back into the cave, he was surprised to find the knight already sitting up beside a small fire, drinking from a cup she offered.

Then the knight shot to his feet and swept her behind him. “Orihime, stay back!”

“No, Ichigo, it’s all right, this is the one that saved—”

But her words went unheard as Grimmjow took the opportunity to pounce. He only hit the knight with his weight and didn’t try to put any extra force behind it since he figured the human would still be very weak. He was shocked to find that the human wasn’t weak, by any means, and was already working to wrestle him into submission.

Grimmjow rolled with him back and forth across the cave, trying to keep himself between the knight and the fire and the shrieking woman. Although the knight was throwing punches, Grimmjow didn’t unsheathe his claws, content to see just how far this first fight could go without weapons.

He’d trapped the knight in a close hold, the human’s head tucked into his broad chest, curled up so Grimmjow could use his strong hind legs to kick at him, when he felt the sudden wash of water over him. He growled and let go to jump to his feet.

The woman was holding two cups of water threateningly. “Stop fighting him! He needs to heal! And Ichigo, that’s no way to thank the one who saved you!”

Grimmjow shook himself irritably and Ichigo got to his feet more slowly. Apparently Grimmjow had taken the full force of the liquid.

“But why did he do it?” the knight demanded.

“So I could fight you,” Grimmjow showed him the gleam of teeth and the knight glared back.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on!”

“Sit down, Ichigo, please? You’re still weak,” Orihime implored and handed him one of the cups.

Ichigo finally sat down pointedly between Orihime and Grimmjow, who just snorted and sat closer the cave entrance.

“Now why don’t you tell us what happened to you, Ichigo?”

“I was attacked by this giant man-shaped bat! Or a bat-shaped man, I don’t even know...” Ichigo’s story was disjointed and confused but he remembered some of the battle with Ulquiorra and told them about his quest to find and stop whatever was attacking the villages.

“So you really are the dangerous beasts King Aizen said were wreaking havoc in his kingdom,” he finished with a glare at Grimmjow.

“Wreaking havoc,” Grimmjow repeated and laughed a low rumble. “We sure are, but it’s all on Aizen’s orders. I don’t know what bullshit he’s been feeding your king, but Aizen knows exactly what’s going on because it’s all his plan.”

Grimmjow ignored Orihime’s gasp and Ichigo’s curse. “And it’s not King Aizen. Our king is dead or missing, depending on who you talk to. Aizen was a lord of the kingdom and now he’s the one in charge. And apparently he’s got plans for world domination.”

“But why would he ask us for help?”

“To lead you into a trap. You obviously couldn’t defeat the entire kingdom by yourself. You’re not the first knight to arrive here. Not even the first from your kingdom.” Grimmjow lay down before the fire, stretched out, massive head pillowed on his forelegs and cracked open one eye. “Now you’re his prisoner and all alone. Sounds like you’re screwed,” he taunted just to see the knight’s jaw tighten.

“You said he requested you by name? What, are you some big kind of hero or something?”

Ichigo rubbed at his face but nodded. “Or something. They called me the Savior of the Seireitei after the battles they call the Thousand-Year Blood War.”

Orihime clapped her hands. “I’ve heard of you! Everyone in my village heard the stories about your rescue of the Lady Kuchiki and your fights against the Sternritter.”

Ichigo turned his face away and Grimmjow smirked at the red blooming in his cheeks. “Tch, well, excuse me for not bowing to you or anything because I don’t remember.”

“Surely even the rest of Las Noches heard about the war? There were refugees fleeing into our village for months,” Orihime said.

Grimmjow shrugged. “I don’t remember anything before a year ago.” When Orihime gasped, he went on, “We Arrancar were created by Aizen to defend the kingdom, or so he said. But it wasn’t long before he had us fighting and destroying as well. So there is not one fearsome beast taking on the villages. They’re just us, the creatures that Aizen and his magician has tainted, and we’re not even sure what happened before.”

“There are tales,” Orihime said slowly, “of how Las Noches was before. All of us in the outlying villages never got to see the king but we heard about him and his loyal knights and how brave they were to keep the kingdom peaceful. It was a hard life, none of us are rich, but we were safe enough. Then one day, some raiders came to town and told us the king was gone and Lord Aizen was in charge and we were on our own. They were the first of many.”

“Do anyone know what actually happened to the king?” Ichigo wondered.

Grimmjow just yawned, knowing that the firelight would gleam off each and every one of his teeth. “All I can remember is waking up one day here in the cave. Ulquiorra, Nnoitra, a bunch of others, they were all the same. Aizen said he turned us from animals into defenders. He said it was his magic. We were simple beasts Aizen tells us that he made into men.”

“Or perhaps you were something different,” Ichigo doesn’t finish the thought aloud.

Perhaps you were men he made into beasts.

Welp, that’s going to have to end on a bit of cliffhanger. This took a direction on me that I hadn’t expected and I kind of want to go on with it. So I’d like to come back to this on one of the days when I can’t fulfill the prompt.

Or I end up making a Beauty and Beast fusion but hahaha no because who’s going to break it to Ichigo that he’d have to wear a dress, dance and sing? I’m certainly not doing it!

[dreameater1988]

Season 10 - the verdict

If you’re just reading this to pick a fight because your taste differs from mine, then I suggest you don’t read further. However, if you’re up for a civilized discussion and exchanged of opinions, then go ahead :) I’m certainly not one to critize just for the sake of complaining, but I’d like to express my views on the latest season that has let me down.

Season 10 has sort of disappointed me. I truly loved S7-9 and I think S9 with all the emotion and the complex plots and twists and cliffhangers and character depth was the best of New Who, so I already suspected that S10 wouldn’t be quite as good, but it was still a disappointment.

Let me start with Bill’s character. Even though I hated the short clip they showed us a year before the season aired, I came to like Bill. However, I think the writers didn’t do her justice at all. Compared to all the other (especially Moffat) companions her character seemed very flat and not well thought out. This might be because every episode was basically written by a different writer and it felt as if they hadn’t actually sat down together and discussed the episodes. Bill even seemed a bit out of character on occasions. For example, she is sometimes described by Twelve as having a temper, which, to me, only really shows when she shoots the Doctor in The Lie Of The Land without a warning. However, that seemed to come completely out of nowhere to me. There was no reason, no build-up and I refused to believe that Bill would actually shoot her friend on a whim, only to stand by and gawk two minutes later when it turned out he had fooled her the entire time. Where was her temper when she realized it was nothing but a show? Also, do we ever really get a reason as to why she travels with the Doctor at all? Amy ran away with her imaginary friend on her wedding night because she didn’t want to grow up. Clara wanted to see the world and was offered the chance at something even greater. From all three Moffat companions Bill is the only one that seems like a rough draft, not a finished product. I liked Bill, but this is the reason I never really got attached to her. I know that many people complained about it in previous seasons and maybe that’s the reason Moffat did it, but we got so know so much about Amy’s and especially Clara’s life and I realized that I actually really loved that about the show. I liked it when it was Amy Who and Clara Who. I would have loved to know why Bill is serving chips and is not enrolled in the university when she’s such a clever woman and eager student. To me it really felt as if Bill’s character was unfinished and inconsistent and maybe it was supposed to have that effect on viewers, but if that’s it, then I didn’t like it that much.

Which brings me to the topic of plots. I thought that the majority of episodes had real potential. The ideas, the sci-fi, all of that was a really good idea - and it fell short. I think S10 can most easily compared to a puzzle and each writer was in charge of one piece, but they didn’t all fit together in the end. There was a gap here and some overlapping there and it just didn’t create a harmonious whole. I can’t even really pick a favourite episode because there’s something bothering me about every single one of them, but if I had to, I’d pick Oxygen. Why? Because it was the only episode that surprised me. The plot twist of having the Doctor go blind was amazing! And that’s about it. I’ve made a post about this before, but it still bothers me that the majority of episode was very predictable. For example, in Smile we get told the problem and the solution before the opening credits. We see the robots going crazy, we see that the city is made of them. For me, the fun part of watching an episode is to discover things along with the Doctor and companion and it’s even more fun when I have to think about it after the episode ends or rewatch it to fully understand what was going on. I just always thought Moffat was at his best when he used complicated plot twists that took a while to sink in (UTL/BTF) or left it completely open (Listen) and you can disagree on that because it’s a matter of taste. I also loved the plot arcs that spread over several seasons before finally being truly revealed (the crack, the silence). I don’t watch a lot of TV because I get bored very easily when the plot is too predictable and so far I had always thought that DW was one of those shows that could keep me on my toes, but S10 was too see-through for my taste. Especially Smile, Thin Ice, Knock Knock, Extremis and the finale. A week before The Doctor Falls aired I made a post (I don’t know if it was on here or just Instagram and Twitter) saying that I wanted Missy to kill the Master because she’s siding with the Doctor and when I watched exactly that happen on screen I opened my mouth and was about to say “And now the Master needs to kill Missy to close the circle” when that happened as well.

Another matter is the same issue I’ve had with Bill’s character and that is how most of the plots seemed more like drafts than finished productions and were rushed into completion. The best example for that is the Monk Trilogy. Awesome idea, truly awesome idea, but again it fell short. It could have been a wonderful, emotional three parter with loads of sci-fi, action and drama, but it just came out. . . dull. I had been looking forward to The Lie Of The Land a lot because I love a good dystopia setting, but the entire episode was just rushed through and they didn’t get the feeling and emotion across at all. It was just one weird scene after the other felt like I was fast-forwarding through the story.

One thing that I’ve always loved about DW was the emotions it could trigger in me. I’ve cried my eyes out over so many sad and moving scenes that I’ve lost count and that effect doesn’t vanish no matter how often I re-watch it. But the way S10 was rushed didn’t really give me any chance to actually get emotional over anything. I felt detached not just from Bill, but from the Doctor as well. The more the season went on the less I was actually looking forward to new episodes and I’m afraid that process started during THORS. S9 is my favourite and Steven Moffat’s masterpiece Heaven Sent/Hell Bent is just unbeatable in my opinion. Of course it could only go backwards from there, but I had expected a bit more than what we got. I have many things to say about THORS and none of them are good because to me that plotless episode felt like a slap in the face after the marvellous, rich S9 and I’ve never really recovered from that.

I watched S10 for Peter Capaldi and for Michelle Gomez mainly because those two were just as amazing as before, but there have been moments when I wished I could just switch off and walk away. In my opinion, Steven Moffat should have quit after Hell Bent because it makes me sad to think that Peter’s and Michelle’s talents were wasted on such a mediocre season.

Another thing that bothers me a great deal is Bill’s ending and how most people on the internet reacted to it. I was very surprised to see that people loved it. I didn’t. I really didn’t. It doesn’t matter that she became like Heather and travelled the universe in this form, what matters to me is what happened before. I have always found the Cybermen to be the eeriest of DW monsters simply because of the way they are made and to have a companion, a friend of the Doctor, suffer that fate is terrible. Bill’s body was chopped up and thrown away, her consciousness put in a metal body while she was waiting for the Doctor to come and save her. She suffered in her Cyberman form up to the point that she basically asked the Doctor to end her existence before she keeled over and died. That is a good story, but it is NOT a good ending for a young woman like Bill. 

This post could be a lot longer because I have more to say about the season, but I think I’ll leave it here. This show has been my favourite since S7 and I will always treasure the seasons that we got up until 10. That is also why I’m definitely going to give the new Doctor a chance - whoever they are - but my excitement for the show has already died during THORS. I might love what comes after Peter, I might not, but I just don’t feel the same love for the show anymore than I’ve felt during S7-9.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Family

Characters: Lucifer, Sam, Dean, Castiel, Reader (no pairing)

Word Count: 2,432

Warnings: Nothing but fluff. Maybe angst if you squint

Request:  But if you did end up doing one could it be where Lucifer and Cas are starting to get along and be brothers again? Like maybe Lucifer is inspired/angry because the Winchesters have something he doesn't and he wants it back; family?

Author’s Note: For the Anon who asked for this one, I didn’t make them dating but I hope you enjoy it! As always, please send in requests and if you would like to be tagged, let me know and I will add you! I am starting a Series Rewrite son so keep a lookout for that!

All your life, you had your family. You had your real parents until you were 18 when they both died from a demon. That is when you met Sam and Dean Winchester and from there on, it was like you had another family right off the bat.

They took you in and cared for you. They told you about the Supernatural and taught you how to take care of yourself. You met their father a few years after you met them and at first, John was a little skeptical about you hunting with him and his sons but you grew on him.

In no time at all, it was like you had a family again. Then came along Bobby, Ellen and Jo, and eventually Castiel. Now, at first, you hated the son of a bitch for how he was treating humans. Then as time went on, he became more and more friendlier and you helped him with emotions and how humans dealt with all sorts of things.

Cas fit right in with the Winchesters after that and you told him all about how they took you in and made you apart of their family. Inside, you knew you were a Winchester and you were not ashamed about it at all. You and the brothers have been through hell and back.

You made friends, you made enemies but one thing was always constant: family. There was nothing you wouldn’t do for them and Castiel. So, when Castiel was having trouble with his family, you tried to help in any way that you could.

You’ve heard of his brothers and sisters before but one stood out to you the most: Lucifer. Most people hated him and thought of him as a bad man but you couldn’t help but think the opposite. He wasn’t bad but hurt. Everyone casted him out and even his own father sent him away, locked in a cage for centuries.

You’ve only seen the Devil a few times and you had to admit, he was attractive as hell. All throughout your life, people thought you were either with Cas, Sam or Dean but you didn’t seem them in that way. Sam and Dean were like older brothers to you and Cas as one of their best friends. You couldn’t ever see yourself dating one of them but Lucifer… he was a different story.

He’s roamed the Earth for quite a while but you haven’t really heard anything about him. You would think he would be causing hell fire everywhere but that wasn’t the case. He was actually being very quiet. You thought that was odd but you didn’t want to look into something that wasn’t really a problem.

Today was just like any other day when you didn’t have a case to work on. Castiel was visiting and you, the Angel, and the Winchesters were lounging around in the makeshift living room, trying to watch the movie Dean picked out. He finally won rock, paper, scissors and he got to pick the movie this time.

You weren’t really paying attention since Dean picked the movie he always picked and you’ve seen it a thousand times. You looked over at Dean to see him engrossed in the movie. Sam was reading a book, trying to block out the noises coming from the TV. Castiel was paying attention a little too much.

“I see the whole family is here.” You shot up when you heard a strange voice say from behind you. You looked at the intruder and gasped when you saw none other than Lucifer standing before you. It didn’t take long for Dean and Sam to get up and be on guard. You didn’t know why he was here or what he wanted. He was being so good and you didn’t want that to change.

Dean shoved you behind him and stood in front of you as to protect you but if the Devil wanted you, he would get him and not even a Winchester could stand in his way. Castiel got up and he walked closer to his older brother and tilted his head.

“What are you doing here?” Lucifer looked at you and then at Dean to see him protecting you.

“I came to see my baby brother. Is that so wrong?” Lucifer smirked. You didn’t know what his game was but you were curious.

“Bullshit. What are you really doing here?” Dean grounded out.

“I can keep saying it but it won’t stop being true. Ever since I left the cage, I’ve visited Gabriel and Michael but none of them wanted to see me so I thought I would give my 3rd favorite brother a visit.” Lucifer smiled.

“I’m not so sure we want you here.” Castiel said, on alert. Lucifer pouted but no one seemed to notice. You frowned when you detected a certain emotion from him but decided not to say anything about it.

“Fine, if that’s what you want.” When you blinked, he was gone. The Winchesters relaxed a little but they were still on alert for anything suspicious.

“Why was he here?” Sam asked, sitting back down.

“I do not know.” Castiel furrowed his brow.

“Maybe he really wanted to spend time with his brother.” You shrugged, looking at the Winchesters.

“Sweetheart, I doubt it. He’s looking for trouble.” Dean commented, sitting back down.

“I know my brother and he’s up to something.” Castiel sat back down. You bit your lip in thought but decided to drop it since Cas knew his brother better than you did. The rest of the day went by smoothly and you didn’t see Lucifer at all.

“I think I’m going to hit the hay. I’ll see you guys in the morning.” Dean got up and finished off his beer. He walked out of sight and now it was just you, Sam, and Cas.

“I’m going to turn in too.” Sam got up and threw away the newspaper he was reading. You were the same age as the boys but they were acting like they were 80 or some shit, going to bed early and reading a newspaper. Sam left the room and you looked at Cas.

“I know you don’t sleep but you can stay the night if you want?” You smiled at him.

“I appreciate that but I think I’m going to go back to Heaven. I’m afraid it needs my attention.” You nodded and said bye to Cas and in the next moment, he was gone. Now it was just you and you enjoyed the silence since you didn’t get it often.

You pulled out your phone and opened the book app you had and started rereading one of your favorite books. You loved reading but you liked when you could carry hundreds of books with you all at once: on your phone. You just finished the first chapter when you heard his voice.

“Y/N.” You gasped and looked up to see Lucifer in the door frame. You shot out of your seat, ready to call for Sam or Dean but Lucifer spoke before you could.

“Y/N, please. I just want to talk to you.” You didn’t have any weapons on you so you were defenseless against Lucifer. You could yell for Sam and Dean but by the time they would get to you, Lucifer would be long gone.

“What the hell do you want?” You stepped back when he stepped forward.

“I want to talk to you.” Lucifer widened his eyes and you couldn’t tell if he was acting or genuinely asking for your time.

“About what?” You didn’t let your guard down for a minute.

“Family.” Your composure softened at that. You knew when he came around, it was to spend time with Castiel.

“What about family?” This time, you didn’t step back when he moved towards you.

“Look, I’ve been around a long time and all my life, my family put me to shame and outcasted me. I realized that being the big and the bad isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. I don’t want fighting anymore. I want to be brothers again but those Winchesters won’t let me anywhere near them. Certainly, Heaven wouldn’t let me back in.” Lucifer sighed.

“Yes, it’s true that what I have with the Winchesters… What I mean I that when I had no one… Sam and Dean…” You tried finding the right words to say but you were fumbling them around.

“Forget it. I’ll leave.” Lucifer turned to go but you wanted him to stay. You grabbed his hand and he turned to give you a side look.

“Stay.” It was a simple word but it had so much meaning behind it. If there was one thing you knew well about, it was family. Lucifer nodded and sat down at the table you were sitting at before he came back. You sat across from him and started at him. You wondered what to say to him but nothing was popping up.

“Please, tell me how to get my family back.” He whispered. Out of all the times you’ve seen Lucifer, you’ve never seen him this vulnerable.

“What changed?” You asked first.

“What do you mean?”

“When I first met you, you were hell bent on destroying us. You wanted hell, Heaven and earth to bow down to you. Now you come to me and ask how to get your family back? What changed, Lucifer?” You could see the gears in his head turning as he took a while to answer.

“I talked with my father, that’s what changed. I don’t want to be this person anymore. Everyone deserves a chance to change, right?”

“You’re lucky you came to me. Sam and Dean aren’t that forgiving.”

“So then, why are you?”

“Honestly? I’ve done some pretty fucked up things in my life. Things so fucked up that it’s gotten people killed. Sam and Dean always forgave me but for the longest time I couldn’t forgive myself. Then I started becoming reckless and I’ve almost gotten Sam and Dean killed.

“The first step in getting your family back is forgiving yourself. You have to recognize there is a problem and you work through it. You may be alone on it but that is what you have to do. Because once you do that, others will start to notice a change in you.

“You’ll ask for forgiveness easily and if the person is too important to you, you won’t give up but you’ll keep trying. It will take time and you’ve let down a lot of people. You have to prove to them that you’ve changed but to do that, prove to yourself that you’ve changed. My advice? I would start with Cas.” Lucifer was staring at you with wide eyes but he was listening to every word you said.

“Look, I know it might be hard for you to forgive yourself but that’s how it is or you’ll live a very lonely life. Family is everything to me and no matter what happens, family always has your back. It may take centuries for you to get it right but that wouldn’t be a problem for you, now would it?” You leaned back and crossed your arms.

“Thank you.” That is the only thing Lucifer said before disappearing. You sighed and got up, thinking it was time for bed now. You weren’t tired before but now that you talked with Lucifer, it was draining you.

--

The next day, Sam and Dean were out on a supply run because Sam always complained about the food Dean got and Dean complained about the food Sam got. So, it was just you in the library, reading the book you started last night. You didn’t get very far because a figure appeared in front of you. You thought it was Lucifer again but when you looked up, it was Castiel.

“What’s up, Cas?” You put your phone down and frowned as he sat down. He didn’t look too happy.

“Did Lucifer talk to you last night?” Shit.

“Why?” You asked, pretending to be nonchalant.

“Just answer the question.” Castiel glared slightly.

“He just wanted to talk.” You sighed.

“Y/N, you know he’s playing you, right?” Castiel said, very upset.

“Cas, you didn’t hear what he had to say. He wants his family back.” You tried reasoning with the Angel.

“No, that is no excuse. This is Lucifer we are talking about. Nothing good came come from him. He is not capable of being good.”

“Now wait a minute. That’s a little unfair, don’t you think? I think you’re forgetting that he was God’s favorite child. Plus, you’re one to talk about not being good. Remember when you tried to play the part of God? Remember when Heaven hated you for siding with humans? They kicked you right out of Heaven. Remember when you purposely broke the wall in Sam’s mind to side with Crowley? You’ve done a lot of shit but look where you are now. You and Heaven are on good terms now. Sam loves you like a brother.

“Look, the point I’m trying to make is that no matter what you did, they forgave you because you were worth forgiving. Lucifer wants his family back and he’s trying but he can’t get what he wants if his family isn’t willing to try. What makes you any better than Lucifer? He’s your brother and brothers look out for each other. Don’t turn your back on family when family didn’t turn their backs on you.” You got up and took your phone with you as you walked to your room. Man, giving these types of speeches really kick your ass. Time for a power nap.

--

When you woke up, it was eerily quiet. You wondered if Sam or Dean was back or if Castiel left. You got up and made your way down the hall but stopped when you saw both Winchesters blocking the way to get in the library.

“Sam? Dean? What’s going on?” You asked. Dean whipped around but Sam stayed where he was.

“Check this out.” Dean grabbed your hand and put you in front of him. You smiled a bit at what you saw. Castiel and Lucifer were talking and hanging out. Castiel had a smile on his face and Lucifer was trying to get used to his family speaking to him again.

Lucifer looked your way and he gave you a wink. You blushed slightly and watched as the two brothers tried to make up. Because that is what family is there for. They are a pain in the ass but at the end of the day, you loved them with all your heart.

[reptilerach]

“Rejection”; Chapter Nine

NOTES: Eh, nothin’ much. Just more bad language towards the end of the chapter. Yeeeep.

______________________________________________________________

After little more than half an hour of cooking with Papyrus, dinner was ready. “ALRIGHT, SANS! WAKE UP! WE ARE SERVING THE PASTA NOW.” Sans had been awake the entire time, but still pretended that he was sleeping just to get on his brother’s nerves. Papyrus set the pot down, and it smelled oddly better than usual. “BROTHER, I IMPLORE YOU TO AWAKEN.” Papyrus hunched over, and bent down similar to an adult reprimanding a small child.

When Sans didn’t move and continued to snore, Papyrus smacked his forehead. “I SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN THE FORKS. (Nickname), COULD YOU PLEASE WAKE MY PESKY BROTHER FROM HIS SLUMBER?” You grinned, knowing just the way to do so. You tiptoed over to Sans’ side, and gazed down upon his face. Trying to be silent, you snuck up ever so slightly…

“SANS!! GET UP, YOU SACK OF BONES!” Papyrus shrieked from across the room, and you jumped. Sans didn’t move, however, and you were stunned. How could he-? Wait a minute. Upon further examination of his face, Sans’ permanent smile had magically grown wider. That means… he’d been awake for a while now! I hope he didn’t listen to my conversation with Paps earlier… You blushed faintly, but laid your hands on the back of his chair anyways.

Kicking the chair’s legs to face you with an insane amount of force (Sans, for a skeleton, was extremely heavy), he spun around and remained motionless. You put your hands on his shoulders, and grasped them tightly. Lowering to your knees to stay at eye-level, you shook him vigorously. Like flipping a switch, his eyes snapped open and beamed brightly.

He let out a startling “ahhh!”, causing you to scream as well; the two of you collided foreheads, and knocked each other over. You winced, sucking in air through your teeth from pain. Sans, on the other hand, acted oblivious to the collision; he simply traced his fingers along the spot where you made contact. Papyrus held the forks in a tight fist, and picked you up carefully.

“OH MY GOD!! (Nickname) HUMAN, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?! SANS, YOU NUMBSKULL! WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE JUST WOKEN UP WITHOUT HARMING THE GIRL? HUMANS ARE VERY FRAGILE! I KNOW BECAUSE FRISK TOLD ME.” Papyrus boomed matter-o-factly, and set you down in your chair across the table. Sans arose from the ground, smirking with a hint of pain.

“heh, good one paps.” He commented, and pulled his chair upright. Papyrus only groaned, not even bothering to get into another pun war. “BUT SERIOUSLY. (Nickname), ARE YOU OK?” The tall skeleton looked genuinely concerned, and rest his big gloved hands on your back. You flinched, as your scoliosis could probably be felt through your shirt when you were hunched over. Sans must’ve seen you react, since he coughed quietly at his brother.

But, like always, Papyrus never got the hint. “I’m fine, thanks.” You crooked your neck a good ninety degrees upwards to keep your full attention on the adorable skeleton, and he smiled. “NO PROBLEM, HUMAN!” He pulled up a seat and sat down at the head of the table. Scooping a huge lump of spaghetti on his plate, you were surprised by his appetite. But, rather than placing the dish in front of himself, he put it on your portion of the hard wood table.

You blinked, and whipped your gaze to him. He grinned gleefully, and placed an equal amount on another plate for himself. Then, he took Sans’ dish. “SANS, HOW MUCH WOULD YOU LIKE? WE HAVE ABOUT… 3 POUNDS LEFT.” Your jaw dropped, and stared dumbfounded at the short skeleton. “We made that much?! How much do you guys eat?!” You chuckled, and picked up a fork. There was no way you would be able to consume all of it.

Sans’ grin faltered, and you saw how he broke into a sweat. “u-uh, just a small scoop please. i already ate at grillby’s.” He stammered, and you giggled. Papyrus dug into the pot, and pulled out a spoonful half the size of my share. It was fifty-percent smaller, but still more than the average human adult could eat. The small skeleton let out an audible gulp, and you burst out laughing. “Oh come on, Sans! It’s special, since me and Paps worked as a team to make it! You gotta have a good amount.” You smirked, while he gave you a dirty glare.

“YES, BROTHER! PLEASE, DON’T BE SHY.” Not letting Sans give another complaint, Papyrus shoved the heaping mound of spaghetti towards him. It wound up being the same size of your plate’s portion. Sans grimaced, looking like he wanted to cry. “NOW, NOW SANS. I WILL NOT LET YOU LEAVE THE TABLE UNTIL YOU FINISH-” Sans threw Papyrus a pleading look, “-THE ENTIRE MEAL.” You snort, and sent the comedian a mental note.

If I’m going down, you’re coming with me. He frowned murderously at you, but sighed anyways and picked up a fork. Your hands became clammy, and you slowly wound up a few strands of pasta. Raising your fork, you waited for the short skeleton to do the same. He didn’t, and smiled suddenly. “ya know what? let’s have (y/n) here take the first bite of her masterpiece. just to see what she thinks of it.”

Papyrus had almost put his utensil into his mouth, but set it down upon hearing Sans’ words. “I AGREE! GO AHEAD, DEAR HUMAN!” He laughed enthusiastically, and Sans leaned away from his dish in triumph. You sputtered out a reply that could be considered the most cringe response ever said.

“I-I-uh, ya s-see, I think that you guys should try it first. I d-did make it for you, after all; with lots of love and care!” You flushed a deep pink, and slapped your forehead. Sans snort, and gave Papyrus a knowing look. Papyrus nodded, and took your hand in his. “NONSENSE, HUMAN! WE INSIST YOU TRY IT AND TELL US HOW IT IS!” Without warning, the fork was shoved into your mouth.

Silence. No one said a word, and Sans await your reaction. Your face screwed up, but- no bitter or burnt noodles were tasted. You were stunned, and gave a perplexed look to the heaping pile of spaghetti. Sans put a hand across his mouth, preparing to hold back a laugh. “WELL? HOW IS IT?” Papyrus asked politely, and you chewed. When you swallowed, your face was expressionless. Sans’ smile faded away, and he stared at you with confusion.

why isn’t she responding? is it so horrible that she doesn’t even know how to describe it? Sans thought to himself, and continued to watch the human sitting across from him. She clenched her fingers a bit tighter around her utensil, and Papyrus wait patiently. She looked up from her food, then to Sans. Without warning, she smiled maniacally and started laughing.

Sans was beyond bewilderment; maybe he was even the slightest bit terrified that she’d gone crazy from how bad the pasta tasted. But when the words tumbling out of her mouth registered in Sans’ brain, he gasped. “This is the best spaghetti I’ve ever eaten!” And then she just started cleaning her plate like a vacuum.

Sans was astonished, amazed, befuddled; was the food actually that good? how is she downing that huge pile within seconds? and what should i do?

Papyrus knew what he was going to do. He slammed his fists onto the table, and cried aloud: “NYEH-HEH-HEH!! I’M SO HAPPY THE HUMAN LOVES IT!!” Without another word, the tall skeleton began shoveling noodles into his skull too. Sans gulped, and wondered what the hell (Y/N) put into the stuff. Sighing, he grabbed his own fork and took a bite to try it for himself.

He choked, but swallowed regardless. what the fuck?! this…this…this is the best food that paps has ever made! oh my god… Sans was pretty sure that it had to do with the fact that his brother received help from the girl sitting beside him, but he didn’t care. It was true that he wasn’t hungry, since he did have a burger and ketchup at Grillby’s; but he felt that this meal could NOT go to waste, and reflected the behavior his buddies were showing by digging into the mound of heaven.

FIRST

PREVIOUS

NEXT

Chapter Ten (That’s the Next chapter, Buddy.)

Chapter Twenty (Links for Chapters 11 --> 19)

Chapter Thirty (Links for Chapters 21 --> 29)

[terence-f]

Valentine

DeanCas and Sam, ~2k of fluff and a bit of mystery.

Happy Valentine’s Day :)

The bunker door slammed shut with a loud, irritated squeak. Dean looked up, watching Sam’s boots counting the steps of the staircase with an increasing speed.

“What’s up?” he asked not waiting for Sam to come closer.

Sam crossed the room in a hurried pace and took something from the inner pocket of his jacket. “Look what I found.”

He was still breathing heavily, and before looking at the object Sam was handing him, Dean kept staring at him for a good moment. Sam looked unusually nervous, his gaze down, hair rattled, and cheekbones pinkish as of a strong physical effort or, much more likely, as if he was blushing. The only time Dean could recall seeing his brother so messed up, had been after that enchanted wedding with Becky. But now Sam’s ring finger was clearly empty, and there was no sign of the love potion he had been drugged with. It was something different.

“Are you all right, Sam?” Castiel asked. He was staring at Sam too, frowning worriedly.

“Yeah... Yeah, I’m fine, Cas.” Sam waved awkwardly and forced out a smile, “I’m just... confused a little bit. Dean, will you have a look?”

Finally, Dean glanced down. Sam was holding a little folded postcard— thick pink paper, decorated with tiny glittering hearts. There was no note inside, nothing whatsoever to indicate who the sender was, just the ridiculous hearts all around.

Dean whistled. “Whoa, you have a secret admirer, Sammy,” he said. “Well, you have grown!”

Sam winced and rubbed his forehead. “Dean...”

“What? It’s cool, really, I can’t see what’s the problem... Who sent it?”

“It was on the windshield,” Sam said. “I was away for just a few minutes, stopped at a gas station to grab your burritos, and when I came back this thing was already there.” He said ‘this thing’ with an effort, as if it hurt him to mention the actual postcard. “It was squeezed under the wiper, so that I could not miss it. I made a quick search, but found no one.”

“Means you don’t know.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded sadly. “Even the dust layer on the glass was still there, and I can’t imagine how this was possible.”

“Dust? You let the Baby get dusty!?”

“Not that dusty, Dean,” Sam replied reassuringly. “I’ll clean it later. But what about the card?”

“And what about the card? Relax, Sam, it’s a Valentine’s day, after all, chicks love that stuff.”

“There were no chicks a mile around! Don’t you think it’s suspicious?”

Dean shrugged. “Nope.”

Sam snorted in disagreement, but said nothing.

“Aren’t these cards a traditional attribute of this holiday?” Castiel asked him.

“They are, but normally it’s people you know who send them, not strangers.”

“Maybe it wasn’t even for you,” Dean said, hoping he didn’t sound jealous. “Maybe she just liked the car.”

“Of course,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “How could I miss that.” For a moment, he was silent, then he went on, “But, Dean, seriously, no one we know could’ve left it.”

“So what? That’s the whole point of this day. To get that kinda stuff from anyone. Surprise, you know?” Dean giggled and looked at Castiel who still listened to them with a puzzled frown. “Am I right, Cas? He was a good guy, that Valentine, wasn’t he? Back from the days when the saints were still marching in.”

“Saint Valentine had never been marching anywhere,” Castiel said in a low voice.

Sam and Dean exchanged a quick glance and looked at him. It occurred to both of them suddenly, that Castiel wasn’t just answering. He could had actually met the Saint. Like, literally had met him somewhere in Heaven, and now he was just speaking the facts.

Sam took a chair and sat next to Castiel. The postcard with hearts, now completely forgotten, was thrown onto the map table, and by a funny romantic coincidence covered the whole territory of France.

“Wait, Cas. Do you... Did you know him?”

“Of course,” Castiel nodded. “Although not too closely.”

Dean’s mouth fell open. Even after numerous archangels and cupids, after Lucifer, after God himself, it felt somehow hard to believe that Castiel had been interacting with the saints as well. The saints you mention occasionally, sometimes barely remembering their story, were absolutely real to the angel a few thousand years old. Fascinating.

“Fascinating,” Dean repeated aloud, too stunned to say something else. “And?”

Castiel glanced up. “What do you want to know, Dean?”

Sam cleared his throat. “I guess, Dean is curious if the lore about him is true. The one that says Saint Valentine was executed for helping a young couple to marry.”

“It’s not the lore, Sam,” Castiel said with a hint of irritation. “It’s Wikipedia.”

“But...” Sam opened his laptop and rapidly typed a few words Ina search window. “Well, it’s not confirmed, and there is more than one story on that here but... Let me check, just to make sure...”

He went on scrolling the page. Dean stood up and bent over his shoulder to look at the screen too. The page outlined the common legends from early Roman era, when the marriages of the warriors were forbidden as distracting them of service. A noble man called Valentine felt compassionate to some legionnaire being deeply in love and helped him to marry the girl despite the ban. The truth came out somehow, and the poor guy was decapitated— without any actual chance to survive, given the dark times he happened to live in— shortly after. In another version of the story before his death, Valentine had cured a blind girl by giving her a holy message.

While Sam kept reading the lore, Dean noticed an image accompanying the text— the painting of the Saint, looking like some early Renaissance. An elderly bearded man was standing on a rocky plain, his face slightly down, right hand holding a short shining sword. Over his head there were two birds flying with their small heads deliberately turned to each other.

“Why the birds, Cas?” Dean asked with a sudden interest. “The guy covered the whole fauna, huh?”

“No. It’s from Chaucer.”

“Chaucer?” Sam said. “Like, Jeffrey Chaucer, the poet?”

“Yes. He...” Cas touched quickly the back of his neck, and Dean immediately recognized this gesture. “He used that metaphor in one of his longer poems.”

“‘The Bird Parliament’,” Sam read from the screen. “There's a quote from it saying that on Saint Valentine's Day every bird chooses his mate. Fourteenth century.”

“Exactly, Sam.”

Dean looked at the birds with fluffy black wings and the silver sword again. Wings. And blade. And a lonely sad man.

“That’s a hell of a coincidence, Cas,” he said slowly. “You sure you didn't have a finger in the pie?”

Castiel raised an eyebrow and looked away. “Well, actually it wasn’t myself,” he said. “I asked a muse.”

He looked so funny, with all that innocence and confusion in his every wrinkle, that Dean laughed.

“Attaboy, Cas,” he mumbled through his laughter, “Attaboy!”

Sam chuckled. “So what's happened?” he asked. “I mean, in real?”

“It's a long story.”

“We aren't in a hurry,” Dean said. “Are we, Sam? No, sure we aren't. C'mon, Cas, bring on the truth. The court is listening.”

Castiel sighed, as though reluctant to speak. There was still a trace of confusion in his expression, but all innocence was now gone.

“Well,” he said at last, “the truth is not as romantic as you probably think. Valentine lived in ancient Rome. He wasn't a noble man, in fact, he was very poor, hardly making his living as a recruited soldier. He happened to fall in love with a rich merchant's daughter. Although he'd never had a chance to marry her, he still wanted to tell her about his feelings. The girl was young and pretty, and her father never let her out alone, so Valentine decided to write her a letter. But he was illiterate, he didn't know any letters or how to compose words. He tore a piece of his tunic, from the chest, right where his heart was, and sent it to the girl with a pigeon messenger. The cloth was wrapped around the pigeon's leg, and as it was a relatively long flight, the pigeon landed in some garden midway. Its feet touched the pollen of flowers, and Valentine's cloth got some of it too. Accidentally, the color of the pollen was light red, and when the girl got her message, she guessed what it meant. Unfortunately, her father learned the story too. He got furious, and to protect his daughter from this inappropriate affair, he sent his servants to kill Valentine. The poor man never even found the girl had received his message. He died with her name on his lips.” Castiel paused briefly and then added, “You see, it's not romantic, as I've told you.”

“It is,” Sam said. “In fact, it is, Cas.”

“And it's damn sad,” Dean pointed out. “This merchant was a dick.”

“He wanted to protect his daughter, and there weren’t many options for him at these times.” Castiel breathed out a sigh. “But you are right, Dean. Anyway, with this story being so ordinary, Valentine would not have been canonized, so the lore was altered. Later, Chaucer was inspired to make a reference of Valentine’s story in his poem.”

Dean squinted meaningfully. “Inspired?”

“Yes,” Castiel said in a steady voice. “Personally, I think it was just fair to memorize that poor man in honor of all those who suffered for their sympathies.” He never added anything else, but he didn’t really need to. There was no one around to disagree. Quite happy with the silence, Castiel was studying the postcard on the table, as if this small piece of colored carton could serve as a solid proof to his last words. Then suddenly he said, “Sam, was is like that in the beginning?”

Sam followed his gaze and froze still. The hearts on the postcard changed their position— not scattered randomly anymore, now they were forming a word. A name, rather. And it clearly read, ‘Samuel’.

“What the…” Sam started to speak and cut off.

Dean took the card from the table. “The number of people calling you Samuel is about one,” he said with a shake of his head. “And we both know who this one is.”

“Rowena,” Sam muttered. “It’s gotta be Rowena, yeah… That’s why there was no trace of her near the car!”

“I believe that’s true,” Castiel said, looking at Sam with concern. “She could have left the card without literally touching any part of the car.”

Dean tapped Sam on the shoulder and grinned, “Congratulations, man! Well, honestly, she’s a bit older than you, like maybe four hundred years or something, but never mind. At least it’s not her son.”

“This is really fortunate, Sam,” Castiel added. He obviously meant it to sound helpful, but with Sam, it worked just the opposite way. He rushed up from his seat, visibly angry, wheezing and frowning. The idea of Rowena as his admirer certainly didn’t please Sam at all, and he wasn’t in the mood to hear any jokes about it.

“Screw you!” he swore. “Both of you!”

Sam turned abruptly and headed out of the room. He would calm down soon enough, but Dean knew better not to follow him right now.

When Sam’s steps faded away, Castiel looked back at Dean. His head was slightly tilted aside, his expression was thoughtful and serious— this very classic type of expression that Dean loved so much.

“You don’t need a similar card from me, Dean, do you?” Castiel asked.

“No,” Dean said, smiling. “I think, I don’t.”

[nostalgia-tblr]

Half-Arsed Meta Post: The Doctor was the Hybrid all along

Come with me now on a journey through time and space... 

 it is 1996, and The TV Movie Thing With McGann In It has aired. It is both loved and hated, argued over a lot, but the one thing everyone agrees on is that the “half-human” thing is some stupid shit. Without saying a word fandom somehow agrees to ignore it as a bad dream that we all had. Nobody will touch it ever again. Because it's crap.

Now we go forwards in tiiiiiiime, it is 2005 and Nu Who has begun! Rusty The Davies and his co-producers mention round about this time that their Doctor – who we are to take as the proper one – is not half-anything. (I think this was in SFX magazine, but I am unable to check and as advertised this meta is half-arsed.) RTD will consider putting a line into a 2009 episode about how the Doctor is just two-halves Time Lord, but for whatever reason, he doesn't. There's a lot you can use as evidence if you like, though, like the Word of God that the mystery woman in End of Time is the Doctor's Gallifreyan mother, or the whole thing where everyone is surprised that Handy is half-human on his Donna's side.

But now let us pay closer attention to the works of Steven Moffat, who will one day be in charge of this telly-show. Right from his first work on DW he's had A Thing in the background/foreground about the Doctor having an unusually angsty childhood. It's in The Empty Child and it's in The Girl in the Fireplace – he was lonely, which suggests some sort of unusual upbringing or some other reason for him not being a chipper little lad.

It fades away for a few years, but then it comes right back atcha in Listen when Clara meets bb!Doctor in what appears to be an orphanage of some sort and he's all alone crying himself to sleep at night. (The bb!Doctor-bb!Danny parallels are strong I think.)

But this doesn't make him half-human or even half-giraffe. Maybe his parents died and he just never made friends at the orphanage. (We shall leave the mystery brother of an RTD episode as a side mystery for this post.) He has an angsty backstory, but that's all we know.

Then S9 happens, and suddenly there's a prophecy about a Hybrid, the sort of thing you'd have expected to hear about before the season where it was suddenly conveniently relevant. We know it's not the regenerating Daleks, and we can probably rule out Aschildr/Me, which leaves two theories, both of which can be true – it might the combination of the Doctor and Clara, and/or might just be the Doctor himself.

Now, I think that Me gets that name purely to fuck with fandom and provide a bit of Plausible Deniability for that bit at the end of Heaven-Sent where the Doctor actually says in as many words that “the hybrid […] is me.” Because if there's nobody called Me then he can only be talking about himself. I think that whether he was prophesied or not, the Doctor at the end of Heaven-Sent has accepted the role of the Hybrid. We now know that he left Gallifrey because he was scared. Of what? Well, seemingly of becoming the Hybrid, which means he had reason to think he could be called one of those.

Aschildr/Me suggests this in Hell-Bent, and his answer is a vague “Does it matter?” Her final theory is the two-person one, which we're presumably meant to think is the correct interpretation, with Missy setting it all up for lols. It doesn't entirely for me personally, though, because it was surely only a matter of time before the Doctor lost someone and had the opportunity to bring them back at the risk of screwing up time and space. It was always going to happen, he was always going to be at least part of the Hybrid and the other half could have been literally anyone (apologies to Clarafen).

And Missy's role in all this? Ahh, let's go back to 1996 and check some of this shit out. Oh, look who confirms then that the Doctor is half-human, it's the Master! I can never quite decide if he says it like he already knew, but either way in S9 Missy absolutely for sure has a good idea who the Hybrid of prophesy might be. She doesn't need to do anything but hope that someone dies. (This is way better than her S8 plan which apparently relied on events she didn't cause and likely never predicted.)

We have other bits and pieces that can be taken as evidence, like Eleven's “humany-wumany” (urgh) tears or the fact that the Memory-Erasing Plot-Device was supposed to be set for a human, but that's all a bit weak and circumstantial. We can easily come up with that stuff though, so shall we?

Look at Ten, whose main problem is that people keep leaving him and/or dying. But The Girl in the Fireplace is his fourth episode and already Reinette has him down as “lonely.” He's the Lonely God from his second episode, even. It suggests and older and very distressing loss at some point in his past which created a hole that can never be filled – could this be his human mother?

See what I mean about weak yet somehow compelling evidence? It all fits neatly together, if you let it/want it to.

My argument here is thusly: that Steven Moffat has been working the Hybrid thing in since his first day on the Nu Who job, and that this culminates in almost near-as-dammit openly having the Doctor being half-human post-1996. Yeah it's a still Convenient as S9's plot, but it doesn't come from nowhere and it's not unsupported by Moffat's previous work. And it's also a neat little explanation for stuff like “why does the Doctor spend so much time on Earth?” But then, it always was. It might even be the reason he can never tell you his name.

I don't expect this crap ever to be mentioned again, if only because it's about the most controversial idea in the fandom and it annoys almost everyone. But I like it, and I will cherish it for as long as the ambiguity lasts.