#now how long the angels spent in hell is a different story but i assume it was at least a little longer than the ten years after dean broke

[bloodydeanwinchester]

idk if this is an unpopular opinion but i’ve read a few fics where cas says the angels fought in hell for forty years to raise dean and i just dont think that’s true. michael wanted the apocalypse to happen. cas says in on the head of a pin “When we discovered Lilith's plan for you, we laid siege to hell and we fought our way to get to you before you—” why would michael send the angels to hell to stop the righteous man from breaking the first seal if that’s what he wanted to happen? i think he waited until he knew it was too late and then he sent the angels to hell to raise his sword.

[sneezefiction]

answers

oikawa x reader

desc: oikawa changes some lyrics in taylor swift’s song “love story”

a/n: please keep in mind that most of this is just humorous & there’s no serious characterization in this particular story. i laughed a lot while writing it :,,) for @cutiekawa because you gave me the idea; thank you for that! and also for @seroto-rin because this is very similar to your husband’s lyric changing habits lol – i still laugh whenever i think about it <3 warnings: language, mentions drinking/being drunk

wc: 3k

— It’s 2 am when you hear Oikawa pattering down the hallway and past your room. From the gentle footsteps and the occasional whisper of “shit” when the floor creaks, it's obvious that he’s trying to stay quiet.

But his attempts are in vain because, one, you’re wide awake and, two, he’s just knocked over an empty beer can from earlier. It was probably the one he’d left on the hall table – you’d told him to throw it away but he’d refused saying that he’d “throw it away in the morning when his arms weren’t so tired.” 

This is just karma.

The clatter of the aluminum on wooden floors echoes throughout the dorm. A much louder, especially frustrated, “fuck” follows right after it.

The word, though crass, sounds deceptively attractive on his tongue. But most things Oikawa-related just happen to be attractive. 

You muffle your laughter with a blanket. He’s probably disoriented from the alcohol – it’s only been an hour and 5 drinks each since you both called it a night. You’d headed straight to bed but he’d fallen asleep on the couch where you left him, hair a-mess and lips parted.

But, for someone who used to stay out till daybreak on weekends, he’s spent most Fridays hanging out with you instead.

This weekend was no different.

Oikawa ordered Thai takeout, you found a mindless Netflix series to binge, both of you had a little too much to drink, laughter ensued, the doe-eyed boy found his head in your lap, and…

You pull a face – one that goes unseen because of the dark, but you make it anyway.

Okay, that last part was a little different.

He’d had his head in your lap.

His head… in your… lap.

And, if you’re not mistaken (or delirious), you’d had your hands in his hair, twirling strands and tracing circles at the base of his neck. A foggy image of him gazing up at you with softened eyes, deep chocolate in color, begins to solidify. 

That lazy smile, a hand on your thigh, tresses tickling your skin...

You turn over in your bed, bunching up your sheets and holding them close to you like a shield of fabric — a flimsy, make-shift defense against tipsy mind-wandering. It isn’t very effective.

Your brain is not wandering but racing around this hand-in-hair realization.

Like an iron rod poking at hot embers, these prodding memories make your cheeks grow hotter by the millisecond. You bury your face in your pillow, embarrassment tight in your throat. 

Somehow you’d forgotten that he’d practically climbed into your lap. You’re not in the clear quite yet, but your brain is functioning well enough that it wishes you’d had a little more to drink – just enough to forget about it entirely. You starfish out on your bed, arms and legs dramatically splayed across the mattress.

Do (hot, charming, charismatic, windswept) flatmates usually get this... cuddly? Is that normal?

Does Iwaizumi wrap his arms around his roomies after a long day and a few bottles? How about Mattsun? Makki…?

Okay, no, none of them really seem like the type to get up close and personal with their roommates without good reason. Well, maybe Makki, but he’d do it to be a pain in the ass – not to charm the living-hell out of someone.

You try to take in a deep breath and wrap your head around what this means for you… but end up inhaling a feather from your pillow instead. As you hack and cough, you try to smother the noise in more cloth material – you really didn’t need him coming into your room, much less leaning over your bed to check on you.

Oikawa is messing with your head. 

If you knew any better, you’d have run away screaming the moment he’d asked you to room with him. No one that pretty and charismatic is good news. At least, not when it comes to shared housing.

But, here you are, writhing under the covers and hot like a fever all because he couldn’t keep to himself. Screw him and his charming smile for putting you in this position.

He either knows you’re crushing like he’s the last man on earth or he’s blissfully unaware and way too physically affectionate for his own good. 

You don’t dare consider that he likes you back though. Only deer and Olympic athletes made leaps like that. Oikawa had too many admirers… an irritating amount.

The blankets scrunch even tighter between your fists, likely thanking their maker that they don’t have nerve endings.

Every fiber of your being is begging to know if these feelings are reciprocated. You’d hate to live out the rest of this semester knowing the boy down the hall may not like you back. Worse, that he finds out you think he’s hot shit and doesn’t like you back – that would be unrequited love at its finest.

But, with a degree and your mental health on the line, why should you care about such minor, itty bitty, pointless details. 

This isn’t that big a deal.

And even if he did like you back? Well, Oikawa isn’t someone you can simply “pin down.” He comes with a distinctive, dramatic personality and a meddling side. Not to mention, he’s already the embodiment of chaos – he’s proven this to be true over the past 4 months he’s lived with you.

There’s a familiar squeak of the shower faucet handle and the hiss of hot water. You jump at the sound.

Maybe he’d forgotten, but your bedroom shares a very thin wall with the bathroom. Though you recall him saying he wanted to take a shower earlier, so you guess that he’s only just remembered.

You pick up your phone, blue light casting a less-than angelic glow on your sleepy face. You pray that TikTok will have some sort of life-changing “I’m in love with my hot, crazy flatmate” advice. Or that it will distract you from your inner turmoil. Either would be appreciated but the latter seems more likely.

Scrolling slowly, you get through about 3 videos before something else catches your attention.

There’s a deep reverberation buzzing through your wall. A gentle hum, much like a shower-concert lullaby.

But the noise is getting louder. And the humming? A lot more lyrical.

You shift into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your hands. With your side sunken into a pillow, you press your ear against the cool drywall. Your ears tune into the sound.

Oikawa, voice confident and free, is… singing.

“...But you were everything to me, I was begging you ‘please don’t go’…”

But he’s not just singing.

“And I said…”

He’s belting Taylor Swift with the enthusiasm of an 11-year-old Swiftie super-fan. Like the world would end if he didn’t put enough passion into this performance. Like the showerhead is his microphone and the surrounding tiles are his adoring audience.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting; all that's left to do is run...”

Most people would be pissed if their friend were singing in the shower at 2 am… but you can’t find it in yourself to be anything but enamored.

God, you hate him for doing this right now. Hate that he’s inadvertently endearing you to him. Hate that, no matter what you do, he’s somehow always there.

Pressed up against you on the couch, meeting you for dinner at his favorite restaurant, fussing at each other over a shitty cup of coffee in your even shittier kitchen, calling you when he needs somebody to keep him company at the library… 

“You'll be the prince & I'll be the princess…”

And now he’s accidentally serenading you with Taylor’s “Fearless” album. In the shower.

You facepalm, sinking into your hands, exasperated and just so… done.

You sink back down into the bedsheets, wishing your earbuds were nearby to drown out the regrettably adorable performance. 

“It's a love story y/n, just say ‘Yes.’”

And your heart drops, panic setting in like the touch down of a whirling tornado. A fire tornado. A fire tornado with frogs and lizards and sharp objects spinning around inside of it.

What… did he just say?

The lyrics… they were muffled. You definitely heard them incorrectly. You… you just need to get your ears checked. Yes, that’s it. That’s all there is to it. You’ll schedule an appointment first thing tomorrow morning.

Because who the fuck sings like that at 2 am in a shared dorm? And who the fuck puts someone else’s name into a song like that? No one? Yes, no one.

Especially not the Oikawa Tooru.

And especially not with your name.

Because that’s just... weird.

The grip on your phone is mighty – thank God for durable glass because any other material would’ve splintered or shattered in your hold. 

But what the hell.

“Y/n, save me, I've been feeling so alone,” he sings as though he were Beyoncé’s son.

This time it’s clear as day. Oikawa is definitely still out of it and he’s undoubtedly singing your name.

No, no, no.

“I keep waiting for you but you never come…”

You bolt out of bed, feet hitting the floor at lightning-strike speed.

“Is this in my head? I don't know what to think,”

In one swift movement, you fling the bedroom door open and rush down the hall. You shouldn’t be listening to this. 

“He knelt to the ground & pulled out a ring, and said...”

And before you can stop your hand, it’s knocking rapidly on the bathroom door.

There’s a gasp, what you assume to a bar of soap hitting the shower floor, and an abrupt silence that follows.

You’d only wanted to stop him from singing.

However, you hadn’t thought through what you were going to say to him about this whole... lyrical mess. Your face feels like the surface of the sun, burning and flaring and flushing. What are you supposed to do now?

Oikawa speaks up, voice quiet, “Hello?”

Shit.

Maybe if you’re careful you can get yourself out of this. Just act like you didn’t hear anything and bring it up tomorrow when you’re both thinking straight. A thorough and sober discussion would be needed.

You had questions. Questions that needed answers.

Why did he have his head in your lap? Had you said anything to him that you’d regret later? Does he like you? Where should you two place your boundaries if he doesn’t like you back? And why Taylor Swift?

“Y/n, is that you?” He asks, nonchalantly.

Who else would it be?

The handle squeaks and, with that, the water stops. Only the gentle swirl of the drain and the occasional drips and drops from the showerhead are audible.

It’s too late. You’re already there. You’ve knocked and, in doing so, you’ve sealed your fate.

“...Yes,” is your whisper of a reply.

“What’s up? Was I too loud for you?”

You’ve got the entire building on high-alert singing that loudly.

...is what you would say if you weren’t currently imploding. This is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. And nothing you ever want to experience again.

“Um, yeah, sorry.” You look down at your shuffling feet.

The hallway is pitch black, hardly allowing for even a mere shadow. Rushing out of your room, you’d forgotten to turn on even a single light.

You hear him step onto the tile floor and the rustle of a tower from the bathroom closet.

“Wait, can we talk?” He asks as though it weren’t the question of the fucking year. “I mean, preferably after I get out of the bathroom.” There’s a lack of tact to his words.

This isn’t the charming Oikawa you’re used to. This is a blunt… confusingly straightforward Oikawa.

His tone wavers like maybe he’d had a little more to drink than you’d last remembered. Your memory was proving to be disappointingly unreliable tonight.

You swallow thickly, “Sure.”

Because what else can you say?

“Can I stop by your room in a minute?”

You take a deep breath, “Yeah.”

And you patter back to your no-longer very safe haven. Oikawa is about to infiltrate your space… with your permission. And the weapons he’ll bring will either harpoon you or leave you emotionally paralyzed – whether that emotional paralysis is a good or bad thing will be decided in the near future.

Your bed, though soft and blanket-covered, looks far less appealing now. It may as well be a bed of nails because you would rather hide beneath it than sit atop it.

But you sit anyway, letting the mattress dip and the springs twang.

The bathroom door cries as it opens, putting you on edge. Your heart is pounding like a drum at a summer festival – hotter and louder with every beat.

The trod of footsteps tells you he’s approaching and, sure enough, the open door reveals Oikawa.

With only a lamp to brighten the space, he’s more contoured than usual. His hair is wet and heavy against his head, taking on an even darker brown than before. You’ve seen him fresh out of the shower before, but this… is different. Oikawa’s shirt sticks to his chest slightly – he must’ve thrown it on without drying off fully to get to you faster.

He takes a few steps into your room, choosing to lean his back against a wall next to your work desk. Oikawa brings his hands behind his back, pressing his weight into them. Brown eyes flicker from you to the wall behind you and back again.

Naturally, tension lays thick as a fog in the air space. 

“Hey, I’m…”

You cut him off, “You don’t have to say sorry! It’s… it’s okay.” 

Oops, you’d said that a little too loud. Not that it mattered much after Oikawa’s passionate performance.

An eyebrow raises and confusion sparks across his face. Your body freezes.

He brings a hand behind his neck. “Oh, I was just gonna say that I’m still kinda drunk.”

You knew that much. Though you really thought he’d say something other than that. Preferably something about the, uh, devoted love-song?

Why is he acting so casual right now? Is this even Tooru? Had he read too many alien conspiracies and been abducted for learning too much about extraterrestrials? 

Maybe he doesn’t realize you’d even heard him say your name in the shower.

“Oh... right.” You say slowly, lips staying parted at the end of your sentence.

“Which… probably isn’t good for either of us,” Different words drawl out and there’s a soft slur to some syllables, but at least he’s easy to understand, “me drinking too much, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you mutter.

“I think we should both just go to bed then.”

Your chest tightens. Of course, you want answers.

They’re likely embarrassing, face-reddening, Taylor Swift-centric answers. But you want them, nonetheless.

Although, it’s probably for the best that you don’t bring this up tonight. It was all probably a joke or a harmless accident – and, anyway, he admitted to being drunk.

“Right.”

“But I think you should know that I like you. A lot.”

“Yeah,” you respond again, automatically.

There’s another heavy silence. The pretty boy just stares at you, cherry colors tinting his cheeks but showing no expression of fear or embarrassment. You stare back, processing his words at turtle-like speeds.

The words tumble out, “Wait, say that again?” You double back, your own face reheating to its earlier temperature.

“I’m gonna be mad at myself in the morning if I don’t leave right now. And I really need to stop listening to that stupid song,” Oikawa says to himself. 

“But I wanted to see how you would respond if I changed the lyrics,” the words are pointed back at you again.

He stands up, feet moving slowly toward the doorway. Did he just… completely ignore your question?

Your jaw drops, “Did…” you can hardly speak.

Clearing your throat, you try again, focusing intently on your words, “...did you mean for me to hear you?”

“...Maybe.” He draws out the “e,” looking back at you.

That’s it. He’s lost his fucking mind. You’re going to strangle him. 

No TikTok advice could have prepared you for the monstrosity that is Oikawa Tooru. How Iwaizumi put up with that... that child for all these years, you have no idea.

You have to make a note of sending him a “get well” card, because nobody could be mentally okay after dealing with him for that long.

“B- but… why? What?” You stammer out, back stiff as a board.

“You like me don’t you?” He tilts his head, hair flopping cutely with it.

You gape like a fish, mouth opening and closing.

And it’s not that you don’t want to respond.

It’s that you can’t. You have no words. You vocal chords are on a panic-induced lockdown.

Because he knew.

He knew this entire time. Which you thought he might, but that doesn’t make the situation any less infuriating.

“And I like you back.”

You’re dumbfounded. You can’t think. This is ridiculous.

You open your mouth once more but he has no intention of continuing this conversation.

“Sleep well!” Without further comment, Oikawa flashes you a sleepy smile and begins scampering back to his room after having wreaked havoc on your poor heart.

Your voice comes back just in time for you to wake up the entire building once more,

“No, you get your ass back here and explain yourself!”

[lancermylove]

Why Do You Care? (HC)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Platonic HCS with all the demons.

Warning: Mentions of depression, abusive past, thoughts of suicide

Requested by: @thedragongurl03

Prompt: Okay. Hear me out. The Obey Me demon boys platonically helping MC with an abusive background through a depressive episode. Bonus points if MC can't understand why they care since she has spent her whole life around people who treat her like she is nothing.

A/N: I wrote a somewhat similar request here and did my best to not make this hc the same as that one. Also, how and where do I redeem the bonus points? XD

———————————————

Diavolo

You felt guilty for skipping out on classes but were too drained to even get out of bed.

Diavolo was worried about you and came to visit you. He saw you in bed with a tear-stained face and puffy eyes.

He didn't ask you anything; instead, he sat at the edge of the bed and told you a story.

"For as long as I can remember, I have been lonely. As a child, I had no friends, and my family...well, I am not sure what a family is." He gave a small smile, "On top of that, no one has ever truly cared for me...and the ones that seem like they care...it's either because they fear me, respect my title, or it's their duty."

Diavolo wiped away your tears. "After you came here, I felt like I found someone who cares for me - not for King Diavolo but for Diavolo. I see a friend in you, so I hope you feel the same way about me."

Barbatos had told Diavolo about your past, but he wanted to hear your story from you. And, until you were ready to tell him, he was going stand by you as your support.

Barbatos

You were exhausted, tired of everything, and once again felt like you couldn’t take it anymore.

You aimlessly wandered around Devildom, trying to find a way to end it all.

"Hope is the foundation of human life, and you shouldn't give up." A shadow appeared behind you.

"Hope is nothing but a fantasy."

"Take a look around," Barbatos chuckled and appeared in front of you in his demon form, "you are in 'hell' studying alongside demons and angels. If a fantasy such as this can be real, then why not hope?"

He noticed you getting agitated and spoke, "I am already aware of what you have been through. You are amongst people who care for you, and if anything were to happen to you, then everyone would be sad."

He paused for a second and stared you in the eyes, "This includes myself, so please reconsider."

Lucifer

He noticed on multiple occasions that you were tired and were not eating properly. 

Then, you collapsed from exhaustion, causing Luci to worry even more. 

When you woke up, he was sitting on a chair next to your bed and immediately asked if you were okay. 

"Why do you care?" 

Your reply shocked him, but he maintained his composure, "You are part of my family...you are important to me. Why would you ask such a question?"

When you hesitated, he patiently waited for your answer. Slowly, you opened your heart to him.

Hearing that people mistreated you and neglected you angered him. How he wished he could hunt down those people and teach them a lesson.

"(Y/N)," he took hold of your hand and spoke softly, "I would never behave in that manner. In fact, no one in Devildom would dare to misbehave with you. You are important to everyone - my brother, the angels, Solomon, Diavolo, and Barbatos."

Lucifer placed a hand on your head. "Most of all, you are important to me, and that fact will never change. I am and will be here for you."

Mammon

He came to show you his new loot, but as soon as he entered your room and saw your belongings scattered, Mammon panicked. 

You were huddled in one corner of the room, sobbing in your knees. 

He kept asking you what's wrong, but you ignored him. Until you reached a point and got annoyed with him. "Go a-away, Mammon."

"No. I will not go away." He sat next to you and crossed his arms. "I will not leave until you tell me what's wrong." 

When you decided to tell him, Mammon got furious. 

"You shouldn't waste your time after me either." 

Those words were enough to make Mammon snap. "How could you say something like that!?" He took a hold of your shoulders. "Don't you know how important you are to me? You are my everything...my favorite master, my support, and my...friend." 

Tears formed in his eyes. "You are so important to me that I would choose you over money. Don't ever say something like that again."

Beel 

Beel noticed that you weren't taking care of yourself; moreover, you weren't eating properly. 

Every time he asked you to eat, you brushed him off, giving all sorts of excuses. I am not hungry. I don't like eating. I don't want to eat.

Hearing those words upset him, but he made up his mind that he's going to get you to eat.

He came to your room at different times with a variety of food and asked you to try them.

You thought he was clueless and asked you to eat because he loved food. Until one day you asked him why he cared whether or not you ate. 

Beel replied, "humans need to eat to survive, don't they? Don't neglect your health...I don't want anything to happen to you."

Belphie

Belphie learned that just like him, you slept a lot, and from then on, he randomly showed up in your room to take naps with you. 

He snuck into your room and saw you stirring in your sleep. He figured you were having a nightmare and tried to wake you up.

To his shock, you woke up screaming. 

"Hey, relax. It was just a nightmare..." 

Your expressions suggested otherwise, and Belphie picked up on this. “(Y/N), you don't sleep all day because you like to sleep...right?" 

From that day on, he came to spend more time with you, be it to nap or not.

"Belphie, why are you doing this?"

"You are my dear friend, aren't you? I care for you and want to spend more time with you to let you know that you're not alone."

He doesn't bluntly state that he is aware that you are suffering, but his words are enough to hint that he knows.

Asmo

Asmo noticed that you weren't taking care of yourself. You were even neglecting your daily personal hygiene. 

"Sweetie, you need to take care of yourself. Daily care is important for your health." He proceeded to give you a little lecture on routine care. 

You assumed that he was saying this because self-care and maintenance of appearance are important to him.

Asmo noticed your expression and kneeled in front of you, taking both of your hands in his. "Dear, you don't need to be so hard on yourself. I know it's easier said than done." 

He doesn't push you tell him what's on your mind; instead, Asmo says, "I am here to listen to you if you want to talk, and I am here to help you in any way you need me to." 

He helped you to your feet and smiled, "Sweetie, I care about you a lot...just as much as I care about my brothers. Now, let's get you cleaned up." 

Satan

For the past few days, Satan noticed that you were angrier than usual and were easily irritated. 

"It's my 'job' to be angry." He joked but noticed that you didn't take it well and asked, "What is making you this upset?"

"Do you care?"

"Yes, I do. You are part of my family, so it's only natural for me to care." 

Satan was shocked to see you speechless. As he studied your reaction, something dawned upon him - this possibly couldn't be the first time you heard this, right?

He didn't want to touch on any sensitive subjects or topics; instead, he rested his hand on your shoulder and said, "letting go of the past is difficult. I would know better than anyone, but you need to try." 

Satan smiled gently and added, "You are the reason why I learned to get along with Lucifer, and you're the one who brought this family together. Now, it's my turn to return the favor."

Levi

You locked yourself in your room for a few days, and everyone was worried, especially Levi. 

He asked you to come to his room because he needs to show you something. 

When you got there, he handed you a controller and urged you to play a short game.

As you proceeded in the game, you realized the story seemed familiar. A lonely MC suffering from hate and meeting seven brothers. 

Each brother told MC that he cared for them and wanted to see them happy. 

At the end of the game, the brother resembling Levi appeared on the screen and said, "you are not only my favorite normie but are also my best friend. I can relate to you and know how you feel, so please don't suffer alone. Let's suffer together!"

———————————————

➣ Obey Me Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi or Commission?

[mah-gah-lee]

You’re such a bitch - (Charlie Gillespie x reader)

Word Count: 2486 Request: no, again @jatpsmut​ inspired me with his fic “What Happens in Hawaii Stays in Hawaii - Charlie Gillespie x Reader (SMUT - 18+)”. I asked her if I could use the Hawaii idea and now I am writing this!

However, some details change from the original fic:

“Charlie and y/n haven't been best friends since they were kids, but from the first season of jatp. y/n is an additional actor on Julie and the Phantoms, also a dancer. Charlie didn't confess his feelings to y/n in Hawaii.

The only thing I got from the idea of @jatpsmut​ is the fact that something happened in Hawaii. So thank you to her for writing this incredible fic, without it this could not happen Summary: You and Charlie were best friends and roommates in LA. One evening, you heard it with a girl, the next morning, everything is awkward, bitchy and everything changes. Warnings: mention of sexual activities - language disclaimer: I don't know Charlie or his family personally or what his life is like. All you will read in this "x reader" is from my imagination. My point is not to invade Charlie's privacy. I don't want to offend him or offend anybody else in his life (family, potential girlfriend…). All of this is not the reality

 Tagged: @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @standingtalllove​ @lukeys-giggle​ @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ if you want to be tagged in my next fic let me know ! 

--- 

You try to focus on the TV show you were watching, but obviously your roommate had company. And that company was way too loud in your opinion. You were rolling your eyes in annoyance when suddenly your phone vibrates, displaying the blonde head of your second best friend. If there was one thing you miss since you came back to live to Los Angeles, it was obviously living with this sarcastic character. Vancouver seemed so far away to you. You picked up your phone and Owen's face appeared.

 “Hi sweetie.” Owen told you with a smile “Oh, hey… Why that face?” he clearly noticed your annoyance. "Hi O." you said before complaining "Ugh, I miss living with you in Vancouver so much" "Yeah me too. We had so much fun. But hey, I'm sure we'll have a season two." "I hope so much"

You were an extra cast member on Julie and the Phantoms, you also were a dancer on the first season, just as Tori. You wished so much Owen was right about Jatp season 2 renew but Netflix seemed to enjoy making you patient. But the coronavirus had also literally messed up all your plans. However, you were angry, some series came out long after yours and got renewed while yours stayed on hold. It was clear that fans of the series as much as you were just waiting for the renewal of season two.

A moan came out of Charlie's bedroom with the sound of a bouncing mattress, you rolled your eyes again, groaning with a sort of anger.

"Jesus Christ ..." you complained "Wait, y/n, what's that sound?" “You know what I miss most about living with you in Vancouver O’? Rule #3. " “Rule #3? Rule #3" he seemed to think about what you said when he finally realized "Oh ... Oh! Rule #3! Wait.. Oh my God! Is Charlie being with a chick right now? ” He asked you with stupefaction. "Oh I wish you were wrong"

A laugh came out from you best friend mouth and you gave him a killer look through the screen, making him laugh harder. When you were in Vancouver, living with two boys forced you to set limits and rules for living. The first was; everyone cleans up their own mess. Second, the housework takes turns. Third rule: no one-night stand allowed in the flat. Surprisingly as it may seem, this rule had been followed very well by everyone. But at the same time, the boys' schedules really didn't make time to bring anyone home, and then after all, they were professional. But as soon as Charlie returned from his parents' quarantine, he forgot the existence of this rule, as if it did not apply to Los Angeles. It wasn't like he brought a different girl home every night, or even every month. It might have been the second or third time since you had moved in. But this situation embarrassed you more than you might have thought.

“Owen, don't make fun of me. I've been hearing them for about an hour now. " "Poor you. Now you understand how I felt in Hawaii" he smirked at you. "Wait, what did you say?" you asked him, in shocked. "Oh please y/n ... you heard me clearly"

Of course, you had heard what he said, but you were in shock at the revelation, so you needed confirmation. This story was supposed to be a secret between you and Charlie. The fact that Owen mentioned it could only assume two things.

"Did you hear us in Hawaii?" “I was in the room next door! Of course, I heard you. It's not like you and Charlie are the quietest couple ever having sex ... " "It seems Charlie is the loudest one…" you said, referring to your best friend having sex in the next bedroom. "Oh darling please, I can remind you of what you said that night. You two gave me nightmares." "Please don't. I feel so embarrassed right now"

Last year you went to Hawaii with several cast members and Kenny. A booking error forced you to share a bed with Charlie. It seemed that sleeping with a girl seemed more adequate than two boys sleeping in the same bed. Charlie and Owen had avoided that possibility the second the problem had arisen. One thing leading to another, after a few strong cocktails, you and the dark-haired boy had ended up having a horny night. The shame caused the next day made you both never talk about it again and "what happened in Hawaii will stay in Hawaii". You didn’t know that Owen heard you and it seems that boy can keep a secret for so long now.

The problem was that that night you realized that you felt more than an attraction to your roommate. It went beyond friendship or mere sexual tension at the sight of this Canadian. You wanted every aspect of what you might have experienced with Charlie and more: the laughs, the funny times, the lots of talking, the quiet times watching a movie or just playing Nintendo Switch, the sex. But you also wanted the PDAs, the feelings, just being with him like his girlfriend. But the actor was totally oblivious to your feelings for him, and you didn't even want to try to make him understand it on his own. You just created a shell for yourself and buried your feelings deep within yourself.

 “I don’t understand y/n. Why didn’t you tell him your feeling?” “Because I know he doesn’t love me back, O.” “Oh come on! You two are the most stubborn people I ever met!”

Again, for the third time tonight, you've rolled your eyes. You were pretty sure Charlie didn't feel the same way you did. Since Hawaii, neither of you had stepped forward towards each other, but sometimes your behaviors showed that you were more than friends. Another moan was heard from Charlie’s room and Owen's face on the screen was memorable. His eyes were wide and his cheeks were red.

"Okay, y/n. I'm sorry but I don't want to keep talking to you and hear my other best friend hooking up at the same time ..."

 You laughed and he hung up the phone not forgetting to say goodbye. You tried to focus on your screen again, your headphones being way too far away for you to catch them. Minutes later you finally heard the distinctive sound of Charlie's orgasm and knew you were finally going to be able to sleep.

 …

The next morning you woke up with a high level of fatigue. You casually walk to the kitchen to make coffee. While you were pouring yourself a cup of this much-desired black liquid, a person entered the kitchen.

 "Who the fuck are you?"

You raised an eyebrow, bringing your mug to your lips. The girl looked at you with a disgusted face.

"Roommate, darling. Not nice to meet you." "Why the hell are you wearing his shirt?"

A smirk appears on your lips, far too happy that she asked the question. When you were in Vancouver, it wasn't surprising to see you wearing the boys' t-shirts, although you had a preference for Charlie's, there were times when you wore Owen's. The boys never complained about this mania and you had to continue when you moved to Los Angeles with Charlie. The scene was pretty funny, you were there drinking your coffee in a t-shirt borrowed from your roommate while his conquest from last night stared at you in disgust, decked out in another Charlie t-shirt. You took a look at the Looney Tunes t-shirt you were wearing and just shrug your shoulders.

 “Old habits.” You simply said. "Yeah, you're gonna have to break this habit."

You laughed disdainfully. You didn't like this girl. Not because it was the conquest of your best friend for whom you had blatant romantic feelings. But rather because she had this condescension and believed that spending a night with Charlie gave her every right.

 "What makes you think that, sweetie?"

 You leaned against the kitchen counter, your posture offhand, a smirk on your lips. You weren't used to being such a bitch, but the girl in front of you pissed you off. And it was only nine in the morning.

 "Well, hello, I spent the night with Charlie." "Oh yeah sure, but that doesn't mean you're dating him." "Charlie is a great guy"

She wasn't wrong. Charlie wasn't heartbroken but he was still human and a twenty-two-year-old boy. Just looking at her you knew your best friend hadn't chosen her for a serious relationship with her. The little conversation you were having with her now confirmed that he couldn't date her. Another smirk spread across your lips as she looked at you with disdain again.

 "Who the fuck do you think you are? You are nowhere near his level" she said to you

This time, you couldn't help but laugh sarcastically. Yeah, she really pissed you off. Physically, she was everything Charlie didn't like about a potential girlfriend: big breasts, much bigger than him, slightly shallow. Oh but she had a fucking ass and maybe that was why he had chosen her. Her whole body reflected Charlie's choice for a one-night stand, but not the ideal girlfriend.

 "Oh honey, I'm nobody, but neither are you. Listen. You were just a one-night stand and me? Me, I'll still be here in his apartment with his t-shirts on when he brings you home, telling you that it was cool but that it will not go further. I will always be there ... "

Charlie woke up and headed straight for the kitchen. He greeted her conquest with a nod, giving her a hello. Instinctively, he approached you and put his hand on your waist before placing a soft kiss on your cheek. Charlie was tactile, it was his language of love. You couldn't help but smirk at the girl, giving her a victorious look. The actor looked at your outfit and a smile appeared on his lips.

 "So that's where it was! I thought I lost it in the Galapagos." he was referring to his looney tunes t-shirt

Your attention fell on Charlie and you smiled happily at him. You cheekily handed your cup of coffee.

"Coffee?" "Hell, yeah"

He grabbed your cup and took a long sip, leaving his conquest almost nonexistent to his eyes. The girl was so pissed off that she seemed to be boiling. She cleared her throat, annoyed.

 "Hmm, I'm going to go" she said. "Oh wait, let me have lunch and I'll bring you back if you want." "It won't be necessary."

You bit the tip of your tongue, amused, far too happy to hide it. Charlie's conquest returned to his room to get dressed. Your roommate turned to you and gave you a questioning look.

"y/n, what did you do?" "Nothing. We were happily getting know each other. I'm surprised at your choice, by the way" "Are you getting revenge?" "Get revenge for what?" "Since ... Hawaii, you've scared all the girls I've brought back." "Did I scare them? Stop, I haven't acted any differently than usual." “You scared them away,” he repeated. "Oh come on, Charlie, please, it's not like you're going to date them."

 He pulled away from you with a look of dismay. You were not wrong, he had never called back the girls he had brought back here, he did not intend to call back the one who was currently in his room. In fact, the only person he really wanted to spend time with was you. But since Hawaii, you seemed to be okay with never mentioning your night together again. This Canadian boy has been in love with you for months, maybe even years now. It quickly fell for you when you were in Vancouver.

"You're right. But I could have ..." he finally confessed "It's wrong. You know it's wrong Charlie, I know you, I'm your best friend. These are not the kind of girls you date. "Yeah… I couldn't date any of them. They just aren't you." He said, his last sentence ending in a whisper before hastening to take a sip from your cup of coffee.

You were paralyzed. Did he really just say what you've been dreaming of hearing for months? Did he just drop it like a bomb, in the middle of a morning conversation between sips of coffee?

“Wait, what?” “Nothing” “It wasn’t nothing, Charlie, you said something” “Nothing important” he repeats “Did you just say that if you didn’t date those girls it’s because they weren’t me?” “You seems to hear voices” “Charlie, I’m not joking… Did you say that?!” “Maybe” “Oh fuck, you’re an idiot!” “I am a..”

You snatched the cup of coffee from her hands and hurriedly put it on the counter. Never mind about the stains on the floor, you will clean up later. You didn't want to miss a second of this possibility. You wrapped your arms around Charlie's neck before resting your lips on his. Your best friend seemed surprised at first so much but quickly relaxed and wrapped his own arms around your waist as your lips moved to give the kiss more tender. The situation was most strange and funny; you were kissing your best friend, running your fingers through his long brown hair. You had to admit that even though you had found him attractive with his Luke's look but you couldn't imagine Charlie without that impressive mass of hair. Luke had short hair, Charlie had long hair. End of the discussion.

So, you were kissing your roommate, making up for lost time while in his room, a girl he had fucked the night before gathered her things. Charlie's conquest stepped out to head for the exit. You broke the kiss making Charlie growl in protest.

"I'm not showing you where the door is." you said. "whore .." the chick whispered.

Charlie stepped away from you and brought his one-night stand to the door, apologizing. He wasn't that kind of boy to go from girl to girl and the circumstances were really strange. The girl left, not without forgetting to curse him. When Charlie walks into the kitchen, you were sitting on the counter, a smirk on your face.

"You're such a bitch y/n" “It's my revenge for keeping me awake last night.” 

His gaze was sly, his smile was mischievous and you knew he was going to find a phrase worthy of the fucking boy he could be. 

"I can keep you awake for a while if you want." “A date wouldn't be too complicated, Charlie. Please be a gentleman. "You can count on me"

He gave you a softer look and you wrapped your arms around his neck again before kissing him. Ultimately, not everything that happened in Hawaii has to be restricted to Hawaii.

[norahastuff]

the unrequited love thing just bothers me so much. No-one had any issues seeing Cas/Hannah as a valid ship in the show when Cas wasn't even really interested in her. We've had a decade worth of romantic signals from Dean, but somehow destiel is unrequited. such a goddamn tragedy that they couldn't find their way back to each other one last time when that is their whole ~dynamic~

Yes, all of this. Exactly. Honestly, it’s been so frustrating to keep hearing the word unrequited thrown around so much lately. What about this dynamic has ever seemed unrequited? I’ve done this before but I’ve been really annoyed about it lately so should we make a list?

What about Dean feeling so personally betrayed by Cas in The Man Who Would Be King? Or Sam and Bobby walking on eggshells around Dean and taking care to very delicately approach bringing up the possibility of Cas doing something shady because they knew how hard Dean was going to take it? They knew it would be different for him than it would be for both of them.

Or how about Dean keeping Cas’ trenchcoat, and not only keeping it - he could have stashed it at Bobby’s or left it in the trunk of the Impala - but no he kept it with him, moved it from car to car. And this isn’t a last-minute development that they decided to throw into 7x17 when Cas returned, we see glimpses of the coat in other episodes before this, a consistent reminder that Dean’s carrying it around with him. That losing Cas is weighing on him.

How about Dean wondering why he could usually get over things but for some reason with Cas he couldn’t and he just didn’t know why. 

For that matter...do you think there is anybody else that Dean would forgive for hurting Sam? For betraying him? Sure Dean is mad at Cas but more than anything he wanted to fix things. Despite everything, he needed Cas to be a part of his life. 

How about that time Dean spent a year in purgatory looking for Cas, praying to him every night? In Dean’s mind, Sam is out there alone doing God knows what trying to get him back. I mean Sam didn’t, he’d let Dean go, but Dean assumed he was still looking. And yet Dean didn’t go back to Sam even though he could. He stayed for a year looking for Cas. Because he needed to. He needed him. Purgatory was pure remember? Dean had clarity there. He understood his wants, needs, and emotions.

Or you know just that one little thing about how Dean changed his own memories of what happened when he got separated from Cas because the thought of failing Cas was less painful than the idea that Cas would choose to stay in purgatory instead of leaving with him.

“We need you. I need you.” You know all about this one, I don’t need to say more.

The angels knowing exactly what would hurt Dean, knowing how much he cared about Cas and using that against him: 

“The very touch of you corrupts. When Castiel first laid a hand on you in hell he was lost!” 

“I know you’re hoping Castiel will return to you. I only wish that he felt the same way.”

Miriam: Bieber in there he can do almost anything. Dean: Anything? (and for the first time since Cas died we see Dean experience a moment of hope...and then...) Miriam: Oh sweetie, almost anything. Castiel he’s dead, all the way dead, because of you.

Dean staring wistfully at Cas through a Gas n Sip window for god knows how long. Actually you know what, that whole episode. 

Cas being Dean’s Colette. That’s not subtext. You can argue with the execution, but the parallel was spelled out. And actually for that matter in Chuck’s drafts or alternate futures/ timelines or whatever that he was showing Sam, Dean was the one who was broken after losing Cas to the Mark of Cain, Dean was the one who had to bury him in Ma’lak box. Dean was the one who had to stop him. So I mean not only was Cas Dean’s Colette, but Dean was Cas’ Colette too.

Dean reacting very differently than Sam to Cas’ decision to say yes to Lucifer. Dean’s worry. Dean desperately calling out to Cas over and over again to try reach him and get him to eject Lucifer. Dean resisting Amara for Cas. Lucifer and Amara being very surprised by this. Amara using Cas to try to get to Dean. 

Dean’s very different reactions to all things Cas in s12. This one would need it’s own post, but let’s just say there was a lot of focus on Dean and Cas in s12 and most of it was on how intensely Dean felt for Cas. 

Dean made him a Led Zeppelin mixtape. And then proceeded to get mad at himself for letting Cas use it to come into his room and play him. Which isn’t exactly what happened (though it sort of is) but that’s exactly what went down from Dean’s perspective, and that kind of move would only work if Dean truly cared about Cas. Going into someone’s room and playing on their feelings for you by using a romantic gift they gave you, only works if that person has feelings for you that can be played with.

12x23. Sam having to pull Dean away from Cas at the rift because Dean was intent on chasing after Cas. Dean falling to his knees by Cas’ body unable and unwilling to think about anything else and leaving Sam to face the nephilim. Sam knowing better than to even try to move Dean.

Widower arc. I would elaborate but do I need to?

And finally all of their arc in s15. No part of that was one sided. 

I actually can’t believe we have to keep having this conversation. Before it seemed like we kept having to somehow “prove” there was a romantic element to Dean and Cas’ relationship. Now that they have explicitly stated in canon that there is, the conversation seems to have shifted to how it’s one sided. Look I’m as frustrated as anyone that Dean didn’t get to say anything, but we never considered their relationship one sided before. That’s certainly not what I saw in the show.  Dude pines after his totes str8 bro friend who’s not into him is not a story I would have had any interest in. Looking at that long list above does it seem like it was one sided?

Whatever Cas felt for Dean, Dean felt it too. This has never seemed like a one sided narrative. Like you said just because the last page of the story was ripped out/wasn’t written (ie whatever you think went down) it doesn’t invalidate years upon years of consistent relationship building and emotional growth. Their story is incomplete not erased.

(And in relation to the Cas and Hannah of it all, a while back I did get curious and look that up, and you’re right. People had no problem with thinking of Cas and Hannah as romantic - when she was played by Erica Carroll. When Hannah returned in a male vessel, both Misha and the new actor Lee Majdoub played their relationship exactly the same way, the same heart eyes, the same gentle touches and soft spoken appreciation, but no one seemed to want to discuss Cas and Hannah’s romantic connection anymore. For reasons. Whatever could they be? I’m putting this in brackets though because I don’t have the sources on that and I have no intention of trawling through reddit/entertainment review sites/wherever I checked last time to find them. I do not have that in me. So there’s a chance I could be mistaken and people did discuss it, in which case I’d love to be proven wrong. Anyway that’s why this point is just at the end in brackets)

[dreamiesdotcom]

shooting star | n.jm

Summary: You take a pen, resting your cheeks on your palms as you lazily think of words to write — now and then, you lock gazes with Jaemin and you pretend that the red in your cheeks is just of the cold.

Word Count : 3.9k

The rooftop is big, but it feels a little crowded.

The addition of people is not bad, you think, especially since those people make your friends happy. By tradition, you welcome the New Year in this rooftop, playing music and games just like the other days but this time, with more food and... well, New Year stuff — fireworks, things to make noise with. The addition of people is not bad. If you're observant enough, it can even be entertaining.

As an example, if you look close enough, you'll see that Renjun and Jisung have been just friends for too long. That, in the sense of Renjun watching Jisung playfully ride the beat, a smile that tips over the line of finding his carelessness unbearable in a growing-more-in-love kind of way.

He looks lost, maybe even intoxicated in the other's laughter, admiring the way Jeno can make his best friend easily drop his shyness. Renjun looks like he wants to know how. If you look close enough, you'll see the regretful heart behind his faux scowl.

Renjun looks at Jeno and Jisung with longing, the kind you're familiar with. He turns to you, and you avert your gaze a little too late because he's giggling as he walks over to your direction.

"So, you saw me, huh?" He asks, handing you a glass of whatever drink he first laid his hands on, no 'happy new year' or any appropriate first greeting. He leans against the railings and sighs wistfully, "Look, do you ever just fall in love with your best friend's boyfriend?"

"Out of random?"

"You don't fall for people at random." Bewilderment crosses his face, and he turns to you the same time you look at him. You shrug, and he arches a brow, "You let that build up and wait for it to destroy you."

You let that build up — the words echo inside your head as you break eye contact. Right across, Donghyuck pulls away from hugging Jaemin with a bright smile, handing him a gift. Jaemin sets it down, and probably feels your gaze on him because he looks up and beams at you. Red flushes your cheeks. — and wait for it to destroy you.

"Toast to that, I guess," you smile, watching him pretend to judge you and fail. Chenle calls out his name for a picture before they set up the fireworks, and before Renjun detaches himself from you, he bumps the rim of his glass to yours. You sigh.

"To the love we wished deserved and didn't."

Shock engulfs his features, then he laughs and he repeats the words before he leaves. The sudden lack of company feels a little cold.

You look at the candle one of them randomly lit, looking at it in stupor before picking it up. The wax trickles and scorches your skin, but you don't wince like you probably would any other feeling day. You hold onto it firmly until its golden glow is close enough to your hands, warm enough that you could pretend it's about to set you on fire.

All so suddenly Jaemin is beside you, blowing off the flame. You watch at him in question until he smiles.

"That'll burn."

"That's alright," you fake a laugh. "I want for a lot of things to burn."

###

It all starts on a Wednesday, a fine afternoon spent sitting at a cafe, waiting for Donghyuck. Your notebook remains open at your side, empty and waiting to be filled with unabashed emotions. The past eight months were spent uninspired, and you decided to look around the place in search of something — maybe the vintage items, the ivory wallpapers, the beautiful chairs — anything.

Something comes in the form of nervous eyes and flushed cheeks, a boy sitting at the far right of the place. He sits alone, fingers tapping on the table, sunlight grazing his skin. You almost hated how cliche everything had been — a boy, an uninspired poet, hands that so desperately itch to write about faded pink hair and a lost angel.

Your gazes meet, and everything unfolds way too softly for it to not be love at first sight.

At that moment, you knew nothing that good should be real. At that moment, you knew nothing that good could be yours.

You were right.

Donghyuck comes in, and he waves at you excitedly before furrowing his brows. Your best friend had always been adorably one of a kind, but none of his weirdness could have prepared you for when he walks straight to the boy's table, and you were almost certain he caught you two staring at each other and is waiting to set you two up, until he's walking back to your table with the brightest grin, the boy beside him.

Their hands entwined.

"He's my boyfriend!" He squeals, "Oh hell, should've said his name first. He's Jaemin, and he's my boyfriend."

"Oh..." you nodded, hands subtly moving to close your notebook. "Uh. Hi."

They both stand in silence before they start cracking up, inevitably making you smile. You excuse your awkwardness, and Donghyuck introduces you two again, and you shake hands this time. You pretend you don't feel shivers run down your spine.

The day passed in blurs of sugar smiles, a love story, a dull throb in your heart. The poetry being written in your head never got finished.

###

The first time you realize it, the world seems to forget you were even born, Donghyuck's across the world with his parents, and solitude is eating you alive. You find yourself stumbling back to the same rooftop, plucking rose petals with a sad face.

It's probably petty — honestly, it is, but it's not just that. It's not that you wanted gifts, or you wanted attention; you wanted to just feel special, to know that someone is glad that once upon a time on this very day, you were born. To belong. To feel wanted. To be told "Happy Birthday" because you are important and should be celebrated.

And maybe it's also because you grew used to it, waking up to several different ways of saying 'Happy Birthday'. Maybe you were used to midnight greetings, to people forcing you out of bed at 6 am, to eating breakfast and lunch and dinner together. Your home had been so empty and to have your friends fill that gap even just for a day is something you look forward to every year — the mournful feeling is there again.

8 pm glares at you on your lock screen, and it reminds you that you can't do any of that now. You tip your head back and let your back hit the floor. Maybe if you look hard enough, you'll see a shooting star and it'll give you a little something.

"What're you doing?"

You look up, surprised but not alarmed. Jaemin's soft smile greets your sight.

"I'm laying down and waiting for a comet to strike me."

The sound of his camera constantly breaks the static, and you realize that he'd been taking pictures of the nightlife. He makes a noise that tells you he isn't convinced with your answer, but you don't entertain him anymore. You just watch him take as many polaroids as he can, and you laugh because suddenly, the only thoughts in your mind becomes 'pretty, pretty, pretty'.

You force a laugh, "It's my birthday."

"Is today your birthday!? Nobody told me!"

"It's not important. I mean, who celebrates birthdays these days, righ— Hey!" The familiar snap sounds again and you stand up from where you're laying down, ready to hit him, but then he gives you the film. You look at his hands and back up, "What's this?"

"My gift." He shrugs as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. You take the picture from his hands, hesitant but relieved that it seemed to look nice, anyway. Jaemin smiles, "It's the image of an angel."

The world stops.

It's ridiculous and cheesy, even he knew that; the two of you laugh uncontrollably. It wasn't the kind of laughter that fades after a minute, but rather the kind that stops for a while only to start up again. The sound grows louder with each passing moment, and your eyes meet, but you don't stop until you both become embarrassed enough to blush; neither of you look away.

 Maybe you are in love.

Maybe you are in love, and maybe he is too — except this time, it's not with Donghyuck, who it should be.

###

"It's you I meet again," Jaemin chimes. "What's up, buttercup? What are you doing here, a coffee shop, at 3 am?"

You look around the cafe, the tables empty. You briefly wonder about when Jaemin started working here before you realize you're unnecessarily curious. You press your lips into a thin line, looking for someone.

"I'd like to assume you already know." Your forehead creased when you noticed the unusual absence, "Where's my favorite boy?"

"Am I not your favorite boy?"

Jaemin pouts, and heaven, how it made your heart skip. You blink, spending the moment in silence, waiting for him to give up. "You are, indeed, not my favorite boy," You smile sweetly. "Where's Renjun?"

"I'm here because he's not. Do I seem like I work here? I was drinking coffee before he passed me an apron and left."

You roll your eyes, a poor attempt at keeping in the words of agreement — you kind of do, you look pretty, I could write so much about you — and you pretend to want nothing but get your drink. It takes an eternity before he lets you go, but once he does, you get comfortable on a table and whip out your notebook.

You look down on the first page, tracing the neatly written words — a confession if anybody who knows you gets to read it. A confession more than a dedication.

To the boy I shouldn't have loved.

The very same shooting star who gifted me a lifetime of heartbreak.

You heave a heavy sigh. You take a pen, resting your cheeks on your palms as you lazily think of words to write — now and then, you lock gazes with Jaemin and you pretend that the red in your cheeks is just of the cold. From that moment, every word you write is either about lights so bright you don't forget how beautiful he was under them, or something so strong it erases every trace of him from your system.

Jaemin leaves the counter and takes the chair across you. You look at him in confusion.

"I don't think you can do that?"

"I just did so I suppose, I can definitely do that." He smiles brightly. "So, what're we doing?"

You eye your notebook before quickly closing it, and then your half-finished cup of coffee. It's still dark outside with only some cars and people passing by, none of them interested in coming inside the cozy place. You say something about just being about to leave, and you look at him as if to say whatever's inside your head. Then, you stand up and walk away.

"Stay," he whispers, light enough that you'd think you weren't supposed to hear.

You swallow the lump in your throat when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, cold against warm, and you don't have to look at his face to know of the begging stare he has directed for you at the moment. You try to look away but you feel weak, so weak that you could only manage a thin, shivering voice.

"Let me go."

"I can't."

Then don't, the voice in your head whispers, the selfish one; the greedy one, the desperate one. In reality, you close your eyes and tug your hands back because what's wrong is wrong, and what's wrong can never be right.

###

The rain clouds come one of the many times Jaemin asks for you to accompany him, and the storm looms darker above you with each genuine 'yes'.

The way this set up started had been pretty simple — hanging out together as friends, getting closer for Donghyuck's comfort; best friend-boyfriend bonding as he called it. For a while, it was everything. It's just your best friend trying to get you to trust his boyfriend, getting to know each other, and that's all — that's the truth.

It was friendship until it wasn't, and that was the truth until it was not anymore.

The night was peaceful so you didn't expect anything to go wrong, but expectations aren't always accurate. The sea looks calm, the moon brighter than all the other days. Jaemin's playing a somber song, something magical that just fits right for him and bittersweet love. His eyelashes flutter in a way gentle enough to drive you crazy, his perfume mingling with the cold night sea breeze, and it's too much that it drives you insane.

"What's wrong?" He asks as if he already knows the answer. "You're not telling me something."

It's been three months and a year since you and Jaemin started hanging out alone, and the swirling guilt in your gut is unnecessary because you're not even doing anything wrong.

It's the fleeting moments, you think, those lingering touches whenever you try to take from him the keys — "I'll drive," you'd whisper when you see yet again that look. Jaemin would smile, "What, scared I'll crash? I'm not stupid." — and when he doesn't give them, you sigh heavily with a hopeful look in your eyes. "Where to?" You'd ask even if you didn't care, and he would let himself forget the world as he opens the door for you, whispering words only a dreamer would say: "Stars."

And maybe it's where everything goes wrong. He shouldn't dream much for hopeless cases.

"Hey, shooting star," you call. He arches a brow at the nickname, but you ignore him. "Do you love me?"

"Would you hate me if I do?"

"You're dating my best friend, so of course, fuck you." You chuckle, shaking your head. "I hate myself more, so don't take it personally."

You meet his gaze, and the world shifts yet again just like at that moment in the coffee shop — angel boy, uninspired poet. He looked at you the same way he did weeks ago at the New Year's Party, that in the way his eyes are saying so many words for him to not be in love with you. Except now, he's much closer. Except now, in the confinements of his car, nobody to witness but the sea and the stars, he's leaning in and his breath is tickling your skin.

Except now, he's about to kiss you and you're not stopping him.

I can't, the rational part of you whispered. You say that you can't, but you're almost always on the edge of something and you're brave enough to consider through the guilt; you hate to admit it but that's the truth. You say that you can't, but at the same time, you don't draw yourself away from him — why?

Because in each and every one of this I can't's is the nasty truth that reads I want to.

You look at the water, and you chase your thoughts out with a dive. Jaemin's lips are still hovering above yours, and maybe if you weren't so numb you'd feel his heartbeat. You want to tear away, you want to run home and make a call and cry a litany of apologies. You want so much. You want so much, but what you want the most at the moment is for him to do what you can't and just kiss you already — you'd rather break yourself than not have this.

You close your eyes and decide that whatever will come tomorrow is something you deserve. You'll break your heart and ruin your world just for a kiss, and he'll leave — but you'll know that for a while he loved you and everything else is forgotten. You choose him and you forget all the consequences.

Just for once, just tonight. Just right now you'll let yourself indulge. Just this time he can have everything.

Right before your lips crash, you catch yourself and swim.

"Would you give me what I want, because you love me?"

Your words come out raspy, your eyes glistening with tears. Jaemin smiles in a manner just as heartbreaking, "What do you want?"

Not him — dear moon, I want him so bad, but I can't — definitely not him.

"I want fire so hot it burns away all the bad thoughts in my head." You suppress a sob as you move away, leaning back on the seat, clutching the fabric of your clothes as if to search for any semblance of sanity. "I want light so bright I forget you."

"What… what?"

You look at him with pure misery, "I think we should stop seeing each other."

Jaemin doesn't reply, but he starts up the car and makes a turn. You close your eyes hoping that everything could just be washed away by the rain, and you don't look at him for the rest of the drive.

###

Never in your life did you even think of living life without your best friend. That just can't happen, and so, why give it a thought, right? You're with him all the time, and he's been there since you can remember, and it wouldn't make sense if one day you wake up and he's all too suddenly not there anymore. You're certain that he's not going anywhere, and even if you're unsure of what the future holds, you aren't so worried.

If you knew, maybe you should have been.

"Hyuck?"

"Are you gonna remind me of the time I almost drowned and you told me you'll kill me if I die?"

"I'm leaving."

The traces of his previous chuckles disappear, and it seems like a movie scene with the way yours bloom tragically as you watch colored lights reflect on his skin. Then, as if sunrise, a slow smile etches on his face. A brief moment of regret and pain crosses his eyes before love overtakes it.

"You don't have to." He murmurs, sight still cast at the sea. Both his hands are tucked in his pockets in such a leisure way, and then he casually peers at you, "You don't have to leave because I'm not mad."

The sea makes the wind blowing even colder, and suddenly, the docks that used to warm you with sunlight feels cold as snow.

He knows... of course, he knows. Donghyuck saw your iridescence from every side and he knew how everything looked by heart; of course, he knew, he's your best friend, after all. Oh, how evil you are. How evil you are for loving the boy who belongs with him. How evil you are that even after that, Donghyuck reaches for your hands and you let him hold you; you let him smile at you sweetly, you let him calm you still.

"How can I even get mad at you? I love you more than anything in this world," he chuckles, and it breaks your heart. "You're my best friend and I'll give Jaemin up if I have to, if that will make you happy."

If that will make you happy... if it will make me happy... why did I do that to you, love? How did I manage to... oh, sweet heavens.

"You're all I need forever," you answer weakly, breathless and breathing all the same in his hug. It's your way of saying no, absolutely no, your sadness would never make me happy. You thank the high heavens that he couldn't see your face and the pain in it when you whisper, "But at the moment, this is what I need. Distance."

The first tear falls from Donghyuck's eyes, and the sudden drizzle of rain washes it off him. You look up to him and see longing, wondering just why it had to be this way, almost begging you you stay. He looked like he's about to send the world away if it meant that you won't have to leave, but the truth burns down to your determination, that he always admired: you have made your mind and there's no stopping you. You know what is best for yourself, and Donghyuck trusts you.

Set yourself free, Donghyuck whispers before he walks home. After that, please come back to me.

###

When you meet Jaemin ten hours before you leave, he's standing at the very same place Donghyuck was the day before. He's wearing a similar jacket, standing in a similar manner, looking just as beautiful against the water. The only thoughts running inside your head is how perfect they are.

"Jaemin."

Not even 'shooting star' anymore.

He turns at the call of his name, and you're still standing on both of your feet, but it feels like diving deep. His skin reflects the very same lights Donghyuck's did, but it looked kind of different — be it red or yellow, white or the shadows; everything looked midnight blue. It feels like standing on a cliff and almost tipping over, eternally almost tipping over and falling into blue nothingness.

Jaemin smiles, not happy but breaking. It makes you hold your breath.

He laughs, "Don't break my heart."

"In the next life." Because it's all that you could have. You return his smile, "I hope I deserve you in the next life."

His laughter rings in your ear, but it doesn't make you laugh at all; instead, it makes you want to sob or scream or just hurt, yet again, to savor the pain because he doesn't want you to but it's all he could give. It feels claustrophobic to align in a way that's everything meeting with your soulmate should be, with someone who's not your soulmate. Or you are indeed soulmates, but not the ones destined to be together like that. Just two wholes that compliment each other but are meant to be torn apart.

"I just said don't break my heart, what did you do?" He tries to crack a joke, walking the last step to be closer to you. He tilts his head in that charming way, "Why did I fall in love with you?"

"Hey, Jaem... you're not. Forget that. Love him." You shake your head, fixing the collar of his shirt, an excuse for one last guiltless touch. Your voice breaks, "He's my best friend. I love him more than the world."

And just as he is to me, I would rather let you go and make him happy, you smiled at yourself. I'd rather you make each other happy.

"I know." he croaks out, a fragile smile on his face. "In the next life?"

You try to imagine a life where Jaemin isn't haunting your thoughts; you can't. For a moment, you fear meeting someone else and not being able to love them because they're not him. You fear that they'd be kinder, softer, gentler than Jaemin and you won't be able to love them back because oh, Jaemin was just right; he was too much but in a way where it's just enough — Jaemin who looks at you like you hold galaxies, Jaemin who would risk the world, Jaemin who is with your best friend. The doomed play goes on and you think again of a life where he isn't what you desperately love, and realize that indeed, hopefully, in the next life.

In the next life, because this love feels right but it's not. In the next life, because it's painful but you'll love him still again and again and again until your stars finally agree.

"In the next life." You nod, fingers clenching on the straps of your bag. You look at the ocean ahead of you, and the lights it reflects, and then you close your eyes as you feel the wind.

"Until then, shooting star."

—

yellow tags 💛

coffee shop

untitled1

[luna-the-moth]

Tainted Elysium(SFW)

Hello dear! Ohoho, I love this prompt, you have no idea! I’m so sorry if you wanted this in hc/scenario form, but the story potential for this was just Screaming at me- Also, this follows my hc that the Celestial Realm is corrupt (Pointedly looks at the angel event)

As the request says, there will be a character death.

Word count: 1.7k

Reblogs, likes, and comments are lovely to see!

Satan with a Reincarnated Angel! Reader. SFW! With a GN! reader.

Requests are open, but please read my rules and guidelines before reading!

~~~~~~~~~~~

How could this happen?

Falling onto his knees, Satan watched, helpless as your limp body sat lifelessly in the pentagram. Your eyes were wide, shock still ever-present on your features, a last reminder of your death.

He brought himself onto his feet, kneeling beside you, tears dripping onto your cold, lifeless skin. Your body was still warm, although your face had been drained of any remaining sign of life, similar to a mannequin.

This isn’t how he planned things to go, no- You were supposed to become immortal through the ritual, not die. Solomon had said this was one of the safest routes to immortality.

Mind spiraling, Satan gripped his head between his hands, trying to grasp any last shreds of his control. He couldn’t lose is composure. No, he had worked too hard to repress himself, he can’t lose it now.

“Perfect, the ritual has been completed and seems to be successful. Now we just need to wait.” Solomon mused smugly, pleased with his work.

Snapping his head to the sorcerer, Satan’s eyes held a sea of emotions. Disbelief, shock, betrayal, and wrath. Pure, unpolished wrath, in it’s rawest, most carnal form.

“Successful? Successful? They just died, and you say the ritual has been successful? You had sworn that they would become immortal, Solomon.”

His facade was crumbling down as he spoke flames of green and black peeking between his form, the demonic form he despised was coming loose. With a roar, his body expanded, clothes being torn to shreds as an equestrian form stood proudly where a demon once stood.

Charging at the sorcerer, Satan’s jaw opened, a maelstrom of green flames bursting from his mouth, swirling in a cyclone of hellish fire. After that, Satan’s mind blacked out, completely losing control over his grief.

All that he could remember, was the body of his lover fading into white butterflies behind the sorcerer, a white glow taking over your body.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Satan doesn’t remember how long it’s been since you’ve died.

Don’t get him wrong, he isn’t going to be completely hung up in mourning for  your death as long as he lives, but there are times he’ll see pieces of you. Those are the moments the grief will come rushing back.

In certain lines of poetry, ones you had always asked him to read at night.

The cat cafe in the human world, where you would always end up taking dozens of pictures of him, letting him unabashedly show his adoration for the creatures.

But the memory that hurt most of all, was your wit, charm, and intelligence. Smiling, he fondly remembered the way your eyes would gleam when discussing flower symbolism, or demonic history you had learned of in the human world.

You would ramble on for hours, passionate and lively, something Satan greatly admired. You were unapologetically yourself around him, no mask, and no tricks to convince him of otherwise.

Now, he would stop by your gradually crumbling tombstone every year, placing a bouquet of flowers on your grave, along with a bundle of cherry blossoms. They were one of your favorites, and he smiled as he reminisced about your love of the aromatic flora.

However, today was different. Your grave wasn’t there, instead, an angel. Near your gravestone, was an angel, bathed in a heavenly glow, halo shining brightly. Beside the angel, was a young child, a mortal soul, recently deceased.

As the little boy grabbed your hand, Satan’s eyes widened, seeing your face. Nearly dropping the bouquet, he softly placed a hand over his mouth, disbelief and shock clouding his mind.

So this is what Solomon had meant by immortal. You really were immortal, but not in the way he had thought.

Seeing you in silver armor, white cape flowing down your back, it was almost surreal. Your eyes had taken on a white ring, glowing around your irises, brighter than the stars themselves.

Satan hadn’t spent much time in the Celestial Realm, besides the time he had been a part of Lucifer’s subconscious. There had been scriptures in the human world of beautiful, ethereal angels, along with their interpretations of their true forms.

Yet in Satan’s eyes, angels were repulsive creatures. Arrogant, with a twisted sense of justice. Blindingly bright, they were merely demons, masquerading themselves as helpers, and merciful beings. Pathetic excuses for angels.

Seeing his lover become an angel? It made his blood boil. They had taken you, and tainted you. Bleaching you with their morals, molding you into another animatronic being, just another slave to their sick minds

Stepping forward, Satan took a leap of faith to see if you recognized him, and whether or not you would attack him. If there was a shred of you left, even a flicker of memory, there was a chance he could help you see the truth.

However, when within a few steps of approaching, you whirled around, eyes blazing. With a flash of light, you drew out a spear, immediately lunging toward him, blade tilting his chin up.

“Hello Y/n, it’s a pleasure to see you again, my dear.”

Leering, you asked,

“What business do you have with me, Angel of Mercy, wretched demon? Have you come to taint this child? To take him, turning his soul into a meal? Or perhaps, a lessor demon?”

At hearing this statement, the child took on an expression of pure fear, immediately flashing away, the ghostly apparition of his soul disappearing. Perhaps another angel would find him again, or a hungry demon.

With nothing but pure disgust and scorn in your eyes, Satan couldn’t help but bark out a bitter laugh. So this is what they’ve done to you? Modeled you after the archangel Raphael, ever so eloquent and haughty. It’s almost as if the heavens were laughing at him as they had altered you.

Fate really is a cruel mistress, isn’t she? Hasn’t he suffered enough, a demon of Wrath? Cast out even among his own brethren, the only true demon amongst fallen angels.

As you glowered down at him, spear nearly piercing his throat, Satan chuckled. How ironic, that his lover would be reformed into a being that Satan loathed, and one who despised him in return.

Of course not, the heavens would always scorn him, and take whatever they could from him. Twisting them into their vision of perfection, mindless slaves with no free will.

Being reincarnated to an angel of mercy as well, added insult to the injury. Your gaze was hardened in a burning hatred. To you, he was nothing but a mere demon, a being of sin, who deserves to be cast out as scum.

Shock evident across your face, your eyes flashed in suspicion as Satan didn’t show signs of hostility, nor wanting to retaliate. But demons were known to be charming and deceptive, especially the Avatars.

Looking at you with mournful, tired eyes, Satan had nearly given up on bringing you back. And now, you were here in front of him. Yet you didn’t even remember his name. A sad smile making it’s way across his features, he couldn’t help but think.

After all he’s done for himself, and to distance himself from his sin; Fate still frowned on him. Born from wrath, forever seen as an uncontrollable beast, no matter how he painted himself, he would always be struck down, time and time again.

You couldn’t help but feel an odd familiarity within those forest green eyes, and carefully lowered your spear, suspicion morphing into curiosity. Why had that name sounded so familiar?

How could a demon be anything other than the vile creatures told about in the Celestial Realm, filthy and deceptive?

However, you had assumed it was him influencing your mind, when in reality, it was quite different. With a burst of light, the spear disappeared from sight, although you were still in a cautious stance, ready to summon it again.

Deciding to make a leap of faith, Satan carefully presented you the bouquet of flowers he had brought with him. Presenting them to you in a non-threatening manner, lest you point your spear at him again.

This year’s bouquet was different; a new arrangement, one that conveyed his yearning, love, and heartbreak. You had loved Victorian flower symbolism, so he saw these as apt choices for flowers. These flowers consisted of:

Pink camellias (Longing for you), red carnations (Alas for my poor heart, my heart aches), pink carnations (I’ll never forget you), red chrysanthemums (I love you),  columbines (Foolishness, folly), gladiolus (Remembrance), and hydrangeas (Gratitude for being understood; frigidity and heartlessness). Accepting these wouldn’t mean you would automatically fall in love again. Hell, you didn’t even have to be friends at the end of the day. Did he expect you to take it and eventually change your mind? No.

But perhaps if you saw the darker side of things, you would have a different perspective on demons and angels. What Satan wanted, was for you to see the truth. The truth about who you were before, and what’s happened to you.

Taking a step back, you stiffen. Unconsciously clenching your hands, swarms of doubt cloud your mind. Was this some sort of trick? Perhaps a plan to sweep you away, an attempt to seduce you?

However, looking at his eyes, you couldn’t deny the genuine tenderness those emerald orbs shone. Your instincts and thoughts clashed against one another, and time seemed to freeze, the two of you stuck in an eternal will-they-won’t-they.

Throughout your exchange with the Avatar, you had been wondering why a demon of his rank would care so much for a human, and felt an odd curiosity about him.

It didn’t make sense, as the dead human’s soul would be in the Devildom or Celestial Realm by now. Why would he bother visiting a soulless grave, with no benefits to reap?

In a decision made of curiosity and unknown futures, you let out a shaky breath. Extending a trembling hand, you gently wrapped your fingers around the bouquet; Quickly bringing it to your chest as your finger brushed Satan’s.

No fireworks appeared, nor did you kiss under the light of day. You didn’t fully believe Satan, and the demon in question was still in shock, finding out about your existence. Your prejudices weren’t magically wiped away; Neither was Satan’s grief.

But it was a start.

[billiedeanhwrd]

as long as you are with me, there's no place i'd rather be

billie dean howard x fem!reader

summary: when your conservative parents kick you out for dating billie, she is more than happy to take you in🤍

warnings: age difference, mention of homophobic parents

word count: 1.7k

a/n: thank u sm for all the positive feedback on my last fic!! i'm still new to this and learning, but i'm having a lot of fun writing <3 i apologize for any grammar errors, as english is not my first language. i still hope you enjoy reading my new fic, i'd describe it as a comfort fic with lots of fluff!<33

gif credits to @honeybeawhore

billie was lying on her couch with a glass of her favorite rosé in one hand and a copy of one flew over the cuckoo's nest in the other. It had been a long and exhausting day at work and she really needed some quality time to herself.

the weather was terrible today, lucky for her and her crew that they shot everything inside today. billie could tell in the morning that a storm was coming, and now it was pouring rain.

the sound of the rain hitting the ground and the crackling of her fireplace created the perfect reading ambience. just as she was about to turn to a page in her book, her doorbell startled her. who the hell was standing in front of her mansion in this weather? at this time?

she checked the monitor connected to her security cameras that she had built in next to the front door only to see you completely soaked, and visibly freezing on her doorstep.

she unlocked the door as quickly as she could and ushered you inside. "y/n, what are you doing here?"

"i'm sorry this is the only place i could go", you managed to stutter out. you had been dating the medium for a few months now, but had never actually stayed over at her place. you were special to billie and she didn't want to risk ruining the connection between you two by going to fast. she wanted this relationship to be different from the ones she's had before, and given your rather big age difference, taking it slow seemed right to both of you.

"what hap-you know what that's not important right now, let's get you warmed and dried up first"

you followed your girlfriend into her luxurious gold-white themed bathroom and watched her as she searched for the softest towel she owned.

"here, feel free to take a hot shower first" she handed you a towel, "i'll lay out some comfortable clothes for you on the bed in the guest room, it's the room right next to this one." you nodded thankfully. "I'll wait for you in the kitchen, sweetheart" she smiled at you with that loving look in her coffee colored eyes that warmed your heart so much, you almost didn't need the shower.

you entered billie's guest bedroom feeling as if you'd just left a spa. the medium had a colossal collection of all kinds of sensual soaps, shampoos and moisturizers in her bathroom and you came out smelling like a scented candle. her guest bedroom was beautifully decorated, it was clear the older woman had great taste and invested a lot of time in the design of her home.

after drying yourself and putting on dry underwear, you glanced towards the bed. billie had laid out a baby blue burberry hoodie with matching sweatpants for you. you felt nervous thinking about wearing her clothes, especially these, not only because they were obviously expensive but also because you had seen her wear this before, you knew she liked this set and you were afraid of ruining it. all of your negative thoughts left your mind though when you carefully put on the comfortable clothes and let her sweet smell engulf you.

you treaded lightly down the stairs to the kitchen where billie was waiting for you with a freshly brewed cup of chamomile tea. she gestured for you to sit down on the high chair facing her at the countertop.

"you look cute in my clothes". you blushed. "thank you, billie, but you didn't have to give me something so costly, anything would've been alright"

"nonsense, darling" she replied, "only the best for you". she gently squeezed your hand. you looked at her like some kind of love-struck teenager, but before you could say anything, she spoke up again.

"now tell me, what caused you to walk through a storm all by yourself in the dark? you could've gotten hurt", the worried look in her eyes made your heart ache.

you looked down in embarrassment at your other hand, that wasn't covered by billie's, but placed in your lap. "my parents kicked me out". billie raised an eyebrow at you. "i know living with your parents in your late 20s isn't ideal, but i couldn't afford to move out yet" she nodded along, signaling you to continue.

"and i stupidly left my phone in the living room and when i got a new notification they saw my lockscreen...", billie tilted her head questioningly "what's your lockscreen, y/n?".

you were to shy to tell her, so you got your phone out of the hoodie's front pocket and slid it toward the medium. you heard billie chuckle,

"aww, since when am i your lockscreen, babygirl?"

you smiled sheepishly. "since that photo was taken"

your wallpaper was a picture of billie holding you close and kissing your cheek. it was taken at your first official date, she had brought you to disney land after you expressed your interest in going there and even if it might not be her thing, seeing the joy in your face and knowing she was responsible for it, made it totally worth it.

both of you looked so happy on that picture, it bewildered billie why anyone would get upset about it and you could tell, by the confused look on her face.

"i didn't tell my parents i was seeing you, they would've never approved... clearly", you explained. billie was about to ask if their issue was the age difference between you two, something she was still a little insecure about, when you continued speaking, "i knew they didn't accept gay people, but i never thought they'd set me out on the street... their own daughter", you swiped the tears away that had escaped your eyes. "i'm really sorry about showing up uninvited this late, but you were the only person i could and wanted to go to"

billie quickly made her way over to you from the other side of the countertop. "come here", you practically fell into her arms and she was more than ready to catch you, literally and metaphorically speaking.

you didn't know what exactly had set you off, telling the story about how you were suddenly homeless or the fact that for the first time in your life, you had someone you could really count on, who was there for you when you needed them and didn't make you feel like a burden for showing emotion, but you were sobbing in billie's arms. she didn't mind though, she held you close to her heart and let you cry your feelings out.

when your breathing slowed down and the crying subsided, she pressed a kiss on your head and tenderly took your face into her hands. "i'm so so sorry they did that to you, no one deserves to be abandoned by their own parents for loving someone", she softly swiped the remaining tears on your face away, "you can stay with me, as long as you want to, sweetheart"

your eyes lit up, "really? billie you don't have to let me live with you if it makes you uncomfortable just because you pity me...", you tried to argue

"i wouldn't offer if i was uncomfortable, darling, and i don't pity you, i care about you"

"okay" you reluctantly agreed, still unsure about living with her when you've never even spent the night together. billie could read you so well, she knew exactly what you were worried about.

"honey, this doesn't mean we stop taking this slow, okay? we don't have to do anything tonight or anytime you're not ready"

you nearly melted at her considerate words, "thank you, billie", you lovingly squeezed her in a quick hug.

"of course", she squeezed you back.

you yawned against her, which made billie chuckle and check her watch.

"it's already past midnight, what do you say we go to bed now, hm?" you nodded sleepily. "would you like to stay with me or sleep in the guest bedroom?" she asked kindly.

you thought about it for a second and then timidly replied, "i think i'd like to stay with you, if that's okay"

"it's more than okay, love"

billie stood up and grabbed your hand to guide you to her bedroom, which wasn't necessary , you'd follow her voluntarily anywhere but you definitely weren't complaining.

"wait for me in the bathroom, right there" she pointed behind you, "i'll bring you some comfy pajamas". billie swiftly entered the room in front of you, which you assumed was her bedroom and came out with a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt. "i hope this okay", you nodded and made your way to the bathroom to change.

after changing out of billie's clothes into a new set of her clothes that luckily also smelled like her, you headed towards her bedroom. she was already waiting for you when you arrived, but you had to stop in your tracks to admire the view.

billie's exquisite taste in interior design was again displayed in her elegant, yet cosy looking bedroom, her cream colored walls matched perfectly with her blush colored king sized bed, armchair and lamps. but what captivated you the most was the woman in this resplendent room. billie was wearing a lacy, low cut, rose gold, satin pajama set, which made her look even more sexy and at the same time angelic than she usually did.

she patted the space beside her, eager for you to join her. you switched off the lights and climbed into her bed. billie was laying on her side, turned towards you and instinctively took you into her arms when you settled into the bed, you embraced the older woman and possessively placed your leg on top of hers.

"goodnight, billie" you whispered before sleep was able to consume you. "goodnight, honey" she whispered back.

you nuzzled her neck affectionately and placed your head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. the storm was still going strong outside and you were overwhelmed with love and gratitude for your girlfriend. ending the day cuddled up in her bed was not something you expected. Sure, today started off horribly, but at the end of the day, you were safe and warm, next to someone who really cared for you, and you wouldn't want to exchange that for anything in the world.

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About "Yesterday's Lie" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who absolutely won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons!

Here it is! The midseason finale of The Owl House Season Two! An episode featuring Luz going back to the human realm, is hyped up to heaven about how painful it'll be for the audience, and features more anxiety by how Creepy Luz is a thing. And BOOOOOOOOY howdy were fans not ready for this. I'm sure as hell not ready for when I wrote this intro at *checks time* thirty minutes before watching the official premier. Yup, the words you're reading right now are from me in the past, when everything was still pure and simple. Whereas future me is still probably destroyed by the events that transpired. Isn't that right, future me?

Future Me: Actually, it wasn’t that bad. The ending hurt, sure, but other than that, it wasn’t too painful.

Wow, that is some neat input! At least, I think it was. I wouldn't know because I literally wrote that after watching the episode. With the words you're currently reading being written at *checks time* twenty-six minutes before the premier...this whole intro is confusing, isn't it, future me?

Future Me: Sure is.

Yeah, it's definitely confusing. In any case, let's dive into this spoiler-filled review as we find out together just how painful this episode was! Take it away, future me!

Future Me: Will do! Major spoilers ahead, folks!

Now, let’s review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Luz’s Room: We only see it for a short time, but everything about it just screams Luz. The pile of weird-looking stuffed animals, the witch hat in the center of the floor, and the fact that she has bunk beds, a single child's dream (Or so I've heard). It's a small thing, but I love it.

Vee: Here she is! The character previously dubbed Creepy Luz who now turns out to be yet another new addition to the ever-growing list of characters that we, as a fandom, would give our lives for. Because holy s**t was Vee the best type of expectation subversion. Showing us all the ominous ways of how she basically took Luz's place made fans assume that Vee was an evil doppelganger. Turns out, she was just a tortured soul that was desperate to live a new and better life and lucked out in finding Luz's. What Vee does is...questionable at best, but seeing what she went through with the experiments Belos pulled on her, you understand why she would do it. And I personally love it's that same background information that makes Vee resentful of Luz of all people. Luz's life is a relative dream come true, and running away from that would be insane to someone who spent most of their existence through imprisonment and experimentation. It's an intriguing point of view, even though it's admittingly flawed given how it's mostly Camila that seemingly made Luz's life bearable. But the flaws don't matter. What matters is that you can see where Vee is coming from, and to me, personally, I think she's understandable enough to make me root for her to have some kind of happy ending. Whether as Luz or as herself, I'm hopeful to see Vee get some semblance of peace.

Camila: *Round of applause* Don't mind me! Just taking the time to love how all them sons of b**hes who thought Camila was a bad mom are now heavily invalidated. 'Cause, guess what? Camila is a fantastic mother, both to her daughter and her daughter's doppelganger! Allow me to walk you through the highlights:

How Camila looks like she’s not okay with the fact that "Luz" is clearing out her weird stuff, seemingly acting too different to the Luz she knows. Added to the fact that Camila doesn't like it.

How Camila drove Luz to camp whether than letting her take the bus

The fact that Camila takes that box of junk back in, not willing to part with the tin foil sculpture Luz made.

The way she was willing to play along with the game she thought Luz was doing, supporting her daughter's creative mind that Camila admits to being glad to see.

And, best of all, the willingness Camila had to help this poor creature, despite the lies it lived.

It's that last part I really want to touch upon, though. Because an action like that shows just how much Luz's heart comes from Camila. The kindness and generosity of helping this poor creature, who she has every right to run out on, proves how Luz learned to be everything she is today through Camila's own loving heart. Vee was scared and hurt, and the second Camila saw that she was then more than willing to help because of it. It's something that Luz would do, and it proves that even though Camila didn't exactly get everything right, she's still a great mom where it counts.

“A new life”: A perfect line.

Initially, it makes audiences think that it has everything to do with replacing Luz. It's only through future context that we know it's about escaping the s**t show Vee once lived through that it's clear she's talking about starting over. It hits us with intrigue on the first viewing, only to hit harder with the feels during a second. Really well-done.

Luz in the Mirror: A well-done surprise that makes fans curious about how this even happen in the first place. Kudos to you, writers.

The New Portal: I don't mind that they found a way to build this off-screen. Showing Luz and the gang slowly building a new portal would have been a little too tedious to watch, and it's so much better to just start this episode out with it. Besides, maybe we'll get the slow and steadier version now that we've seen how quickly building one might not have been the best way to go, given how fast that thing fell apart.

Luz Between Dimensions: I have no clue what the hell that place she was in is called, but it's awesome! The overall design of the realm is the correct type of unsettling, like it's oozing with mystery, but it's somewhere that you probably don't want to be in for too long. Whoever designed it deserves all of the credit because I don't want to even think about all the hard work that went into making this look as well-made as it was.

Luz Resisting to See Amity: What? Luz and Amity are adorable, and seeing Luz's immediate thought about seeing Amity makes my shipping heart scream with glee. Don't judge me!

Hiding Luz’s Dad’s Face: Well, that was a fun story while it lasted.

So, it turns out that Luz's dad really was a part of Luz's and Camila's life at some point, but not anymore. As for why remains to be seen, as we don't really know yet if we'll see him make an appearance. I'd say that the odds are high that he will, given how much of a point this episode made about keeping his face hidden. Shows don't usually do that unless the goal is to hype up some official reveal, and I can't wait to see what comes of it.

Luz Telling Herself to Count to Five: Hey, more evidence for how I relate to Luz! I know how it feels to be all panicky about a specific situation, and I only got better when I took the time to calm down for a bit. Sometimes, I even tried the "count to x" method that Luz used...it never worked, primarily because it made me feel worse when people told me to do it, but I still tried it! Plus, there's also some narrative foreshadowing when after Luz says five, the realm shows her Vee, or Number V, which is a pretty cool detail you'll notice on a rewatch.

Luz Helping Vee: I gave Camila praise for helping Vee in the end, but that doesn't abstain Luz from her own set of recognition. The second that Luz realized that Vee wasn't really a threat and is far from evil, our favorite human does what she can to help and even makes a deal where they're both happy. Because, of course, Luz is that perfect of a protagonist who is more than willing to help others in need. And it's why we love her so.

Looking for Magic that Eda Left Behind: A pretty cool idea that gives Luz and Vee a chance to bond and giving us an insight into Eda's past antics and misadventures in the human realm. Not much I can add to it, though.

Gravesfield: It's surprisingly not as jarring as I thought it would be to spend an episode in the human realm. I thought for sure, after all that time in the Boiling Isles, there would be something off about walking around a normal environment for a change. Turns out, it's almost easy to get used to. Or, for me, it is.

But I will say that there's this neat use of colors when comparing Gravesfield with the Boiling Isles. In Gravesfield, the coloring looks dulled down and standard, which is a stark contrast to the bright vibrancy of everything we've seen in the Boiling Isles. It's a subtle way of showing how things are different, aside from the major discrepancies we could come to expect. And I think that's why I appreciate it much more.

Eda’s Called Herself Marylynn in the Human Realm: Hang on...hang on...do you mean to tell me that the crack theory about Eda being Stan's ex-wife is actually true?

...

...What even is this show?!

Vee Making Friends with Camp Members: This shows the most apparent difference between Luz and Vee. Where we see Luz is already fearing the many ways that could go wrong with interacting with teens, Vee revealed that she adapted to her situation and had a chance to make friends. The implications of this are worth discussing another time, but for now, I'll say that it's pretty intriguing that we gain this much insight into both Luz and Vee through such a small thing.

Belos Wanting to Learn How Basilisks can Drain Magic: ...Didn't Raine say that Belos was taking away magic? If so, I think we can figure out how he's doing it. The question now is: Why?

Jacob (The Curator Guy): This guy was a riot. At first, Jacob seemed like a threat with the way he trapped Vee and was apparently stocking her, but the second he goes off about his conspiracy theories, it becomes clear what type of character he is. And was it a blast seeing how much of a crackpot this man is. It wasn't cool seeing him wanting to dissect the precious angel that is Vee, but I still chuckle about things like his "Flat Eather's Certificate." So while he's not that much of a threat, he's still fun to watch.

The Owl Beast was in the Human Realm: ...How did that happen? When did it happen? And how the hell did Eda get out of a situation like that?! Who knows, but it's still a shocking piece of news to learn.

Luz Telling Camila the Truth: Hey, she faced her fear after all! Although, the results aren't as pleasant as when Amity faced her fear two weeks ago.

Camila is a Veterinarian: ...One insignificant reveal...managed to destroy so many fanfics. I mean, we probably shouldn't have just assumed Camila was a nurse...but what the f**k else were we supposed to think?! Sorry for seeing the scrubs, and the first thing that came to my mind was "nurse" and not "vet."

By the way, that had to have been intentional, right? There's no way that Dana Terrace didn't think we'd assume Camila was a nurse. She'd had to have put off a reveal like that just to trip up her fans. And if that's the case, then that is a major d**k move...but that's why I mildly respect it.

Two Human Brothers went to the Demon Realm: Turns out we don't have to be in the Boiling Isles to learn more about it. Because now we have more information about how two humans were taken to the Isles with the help of a witch, thus setting up a grander reveal if it turns out that one of the humans was Philip and the witch was Belos. Because if that's true...then there's more of a history between those two than we thought.

Jacob has a Training Wand: This helps me believe that it's highly likely for Jacob to make a return and to have a power boost for when he does. After all, focussing all that attention on the training wand is way too convenient for it not to come up again in the future. Meaning we're most likely going to get more pain from Jacob if he shows up again.

Camila Beats the Crap out of Jacob for Vee: ...Writers, don't make me choose between Camila and Eda on who's the better cartoon mom. I know Eda's technically not a mom...BUT I STILL DON'T WANT TO CHOOSE DAMNIT!

Also, the sandal...just...

Why the f**k does Camila have a sandal in her purse? I don't know. Is it still funny that she does? Most certainly.

Camila and Luz’s Talk in the Rain: Ooooooooh, I was not ready for this...

I wasn't ready for the crying.

I wasn't ready for the hurt in Camila's eyes when she found out Luz chose to stay in the Boiling Isles.

I wasn't ready for Camila asking if Luz hates being with her that much.

I wasn't ready for Luz profusely stating how it was never Camila's fault.

I was not ready for Camila to tell Luz that she'll try to do better.

And I definitely was not ready for Luz to barely have enough time to promise that she'll come back.

This episode wasn't the twenty-two minutes of nonstop angst that I thought it was going to be...but this short scene more than make up for it.

Luz Tries to Stay Strong: Yet another thing she unwittingly learned from Camila. Camila tried to keep a brave face when Vee was with her and Luz, most likely not wanting to tear either of them down in the process. Luz does the same thing here as she avoids talking about the details of what went down in her sort-of journey back home. And seeing her clearly fake smile slowly droop into an uncertain frown, it uh...it definitely tore me up inside.

WHAT I DISLIKED

I want to say it's perfect, but there's one major issue that really bogs this episode down.

Continuity Error in How Vee Replaced Luz: Having Vee take Luz's place the same day Luz appeared in the Isles is a smart idea on paper...if it wasn't for the fact that it's impossible.

Because Eda closed the portal door the second that she saw Luz, meaning that there's no way for Vee to go to the human realm. It's a major plothole that makes no sense, and it might just be the first time ever that this series wasn't so closely knit with its story. Which ends up taking a dive in quality in the process.

IN CONCLUSION

I'd say that "Yesterday's Lie" is an A-. Everything about Luz, Vee, and Camila is incredible, combined into a story that ends in tragedy and uncertainty for the future. That plothole may drag things down a bit, but everything else is handled so well that I'm not lying when I say it's easy to forgive and forget.

(And that's ten episodes in a row without a single stinker. HOW THE F**K DOES THIS SEASON KEEP WINNING?!)

[starryseung]

𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒔 𝒂𝒔 90'𝒔 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 [ 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 ]

𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒋𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒈

I would travel thousands of miles just to be with you.

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

you and han might’ve met at school, through mutual friends

then of course the classic ‘mutual pining without you two realizing you’re falling for each other’ game until one of your friends point it out

and then on days he doesn’t have a busy schedule, he’ll walk you home from school

slowly it’ll be a habit, and you’ll grow closer and closer

sometimes unconsciously he’ll intertwine your fingers with his

sometimes when it’s raining / freezing cold he’ll give you his jacket

“no ji, you’ll freeze to death,”

“at least i’ll freeze to death for you,”

*winks*

𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔

dates with jisung aren’t fixed at one spot

he loves showing you different places he discovered throughout the weekend

usually its the townside, because he loves watching nature and sunsets

also loves taking you through the woods (but only during broad daylight because he still hasn’t recovered from that werewolf story his friend told him in grade 2)

once you’ve reached your destination, he’ll laugh and jump up and down, kissing your hand and face a thousand times

but the journey towards the destination is literal hell

“y/n, i know men are supposed to carry women, but i’m pretty lightweight, and my legs might snap any moment now,”

“y/nnnn please gimme a piggy back ride up the hill i might faint”

“wow y/n i’m offended i don’t think you deserve all these awesome places i take you to,”

and when you glare at him, he’s a 180 flip, because you might just break his bones for choosing such a faraway location in the first place

“i-i mean you don’t deserve them because you’re so much prettier than them!”

𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

okay see kisses with jisung are always quick and short because even if you’ve shared these moments a hundred times, each of them still feels like the first one

but sometimes he takes his time, kissing your forehead, then your nose, then your cheeks, then skips your lips and moves down to your chin

but when you pout / whine he’ll chuckle softly and come back up to kiss you

so yeah kissing with jisung is very giggly and soft all the time

but otherwise, he’d never notice how soft and bubbly his cheeks are if it weren’t for you

you’re always kissing and pinching his cheeks (like you should!!)

and he won’t act like he doesn’t like it; he’ll laugh it off or reciprocate your love because he feels very loved around you and wouldn’t change it for the world or better.

thank you, y/n

𝒍𝒆𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒙 

I want to grow old with you.

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

you first meet him at the café he works!

initially it wouldn’t be much, just you hurriedly ordering your coffee and leaving

but then you’ll notice the small hearts he scribbles after your name on the cup, sometimes even going as far to write a lil “you’ll do great!” or “you look really sweet today”

so one day you decide to go to his café with your friend

and while leaving you slip in your number to him, but turns out this ball of sunshine is trying to slip in his number to you; so you have a new thing to laugh about

so yeah you start hanging out after his shifts, sometimes you wait for him to close the café for the day

“y/n you know you don’t have to wait for me tonight, it’ll get pretty late,”

“no lixie, i’d rather go home late with you than go home alone,”

but he knows you only wait for him so that you can eat all the donuts and cupcakes with him after his shift ends

but its a win-win for both of you, so he doesn’t mind :D

𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔

so he knows it’s like top 10 anime betrayals to his workplace, but he loves taking you to pet cafés

one, because he loves animals

two, because you love animals

three, because he loves you playing around with these animals

“awh felix can we steal this one? it’s so cute,”

and he’s just laughing because you’re so c u t e

“i don’t think that’s allowed, y/n,”

but not gonna lie i bet he has tried sneaking out a dog for you, but he got caught by one of the workers there

“o-oh! when d-did this little guy fit into my j-jacket pocket!”

super adorable uwu

calls you angel and princess, while you’re calling him sunshine all the time

loves decorating your hair with flowers

oh! he loves braiding your hair too

like when you’re over at his place he’s always experimenting with your hair; doing little salon roleplays with you and prettying your hair

but sometimes when he’s tired from work he’ll let you braid his hair

also loves having matching outfits

before dating him you thought matching couple outfits were cliché and stupid, but after dating him, you realize how different they are

dating felix also means your fashion sense improves a lot👀

𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

felix, like hyunjin, has very kissable lips

he probably tastes like vanilla,plus he’s a great kisser

you’re wondering where he learnt all that from

making out with felix happens every other day, but its usually in bed with him on top of you while you guys are watching some movie / playing video games

also he’ll probably end up sleeping like that as you two slowly get tired

his face on your chest / on your shoulders and hands tight around your waist

this boy really loves you okay you better not make him sad >:(

𝒌𝒊𝒎 𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒎𝒊𝒏 

You complete me.

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

at! the!! library!!!

you’re trying to pick a book from the second-to-top shelf, but since the universe decided to give you the most inconvenient height possible, here you are, contemplating if you should just drop the whole shelf down to get that book

but thankfully, seungmin is to the rescue!

he’ll smile and wordlessly take the book and hand it down to you

everyday its the same story; there’s a book that you really like, but its too far for you, but slowly you don’t mind because somehow seungmin is always there around at the same time to take that book for you

one day he decides to take initiative, but realizes he’s a coward and can’t do shit

so he’s over the moon when you come and sit next to him

“hey, i’m sorry for the trouble, but uhh i need some help with this assignment…”

and of course he’s there to help you! he’ll clarify where you need him to and explain you better than ever

slowly interactions increase and before you know it, you’re lying on your stomach on his bed with your legs dangling in the air as you two have your noses in a book

you learn more and more about each other, ultimately to the point where you know better about each other than about yourselves

𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔

initially when you two have just started dating, there would be study dates at the café down your block

but later you two take each other out on weekends, sometimes to the movies, sometimes to the town fair.

ahh but when dates are at the fair… >:)

let’s assume seungmin doesn’t have good experiences with rides

so naturally you will… take him to the rides only mwahaha

“y/n do you not love me? why are you doing this,”

you’re just evil laughing, you sadist

dates for seung-y/n are just sleepovers at each others house

he’s laughing like crazy when you’re messing shit up

“seungmin can you help me i’m stuck in this shirt,”

seungmin: proceeds to laugh for the next ten minutes at your contortionist-self

now unlike changbin, seungmin will not show you off to his friends

he doesn’t like the concept of ‘claiming you’, but he doesn’t like sharing you either.

“hey, isn’t that too revealing for a party?”

“seungmin? its a knee length skirt??”

𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

kisses = pecks on the lips / cheeks

you’re simply cooking / studying and he’ll wrap his hands around your waist from behind and rest his head on your shoulder

“what is my y/n doinggg?”

and he’ll kiss your cheek

sometimes leans forward to kiss you on your lips too

but in general kisses are soft

he’ll have a hand on your stomach, one on the back of your neck to rub smooth comforting circles

to be honest your relationship is more like best friends because you’re just always there for each other and can talk about the most stupidest things openly

you: “you know i’ve heard stars are all our forefathers looking down at us,”

seung: “really? i though they were just balls of gas though,”

you: “nah, i don’t think that’s true,”

𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒋𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏

I love everything there is to love about you.

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

he moved in the same neighbourhood as yours, and since he was the only person around your age (and the only normal one your age), you had to be friends with him

you two meet up every evening at the neighbourhood park, and he doesn’t really mind your company, especially when you bring you little brother with you

“awh, is that your little brother? he’s so cute!”

“yeah, he is; thanks!”

“he looks nothing like you!”

he’s initially very shy to talk to you

but when he realizes how cool your personality is (and how pretty you are🤭)

he’s knocking at your door everyday to take you and your little brother to the park

he always buys you ice cream though, and somehow it’s always the flavour you like

“oh thanks jeo— ah i don’t like this flavour” :(

“don’t worry y/n! i’ll get you another one!”

𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔

homeboi is very shy

the fact that he’s dating the perfect person for him (!!!) is enough for butterflies and grasshoppers and bees and dinosaurs to fly in his stomach

he gets really fidgety, but he feels a little nervous thinking about the fact that most of the ‘firsts’ in your relationship are celebrated by you; first ‘kiss’ (to which he held your hand home, then went to his house to dolphin scream into his pillows), first ‘date’ (in which you took him out to the beach to watch the sunset and have snacks) and first ‘one month’ (where you took him out to an expensive restaurant, even when he refused a couple billion times)

phew that was a long point

so he decided to celebrate your first ‘out-of-town trip’, where he drove you all the way to a cherry blossom forest

he also took a thousand pictures of you, coming back home to print one of them and safely put it in his wallet

he feels every small moment spent with you so endearing, he finds himself smiling randomly

𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

as previously mentioned, your first kiss was initiated by you; you two were walking home from the neighbourhood park like always, and jeongin had carried your brother in his arms, playing with him

you couldn’t stop thinking about how your first kiss would be, and so when he dropped you off to your house, you simply had to kiss him

he puts your brother down, waving him goodbye, and just when he’s about to say his farewells to you, you instantly peck his lips, after which both your eyes were wide is plates

“i-i’m sorry i should've—”

“ah no it’s okay, uh,” he scratches his neck, biting his lip to control his smile

and you simply chuckle at his cuteness, muttering a small ‘bye’ and ‘love you’ before going into your house

and the way his face changes once he’s out of your sight is just— *chef’s kiss*

he’s running home, and when his brothers ask him what happened, he’s just ignoring them and goes to his room to scream and laugh his heart out into the sheets

his family thinks he’s insane by now, but of course! he’s in love!

plus that with the cutest person in the whole world!

a/n; and it’s finally up! it didn’t take me long to write this because the ideas just came flooding in sdfkhsdjk but thank you so much for your feedback for hyung line! also!!! this is the only two fics which do not have a read more cut because I’m using a mobile device for posting these,, sorry🙈

note; credits to @neocult-icons​ @chnsbbg @district9edits @skzicons for the pictures!!

taglist; @hyukminie @cherryeol04 @lomlminho @bruh-changbin @yooniversalstudios @ann0325441904 @yourdaddychan @mahalau​ (message me if you want to be added!)

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - “At Midnight” (Rated G)

Summary:

Crowley is devastated by how smoothly the world continues on after he loses Aziraphale to the bookshop fire. Adam stops the war between Heaven and Hell, and things go back to normal for everyone... except him. Crowley goes from demon to ghoul, haunting St. James's Park every night, caught up in his memories of his angel. Until one night, he comes across something unexpected that makes things a little better... (2416 words) ... and a whole lot worse.

Read on AO3.

The hands on Aziraphale's grandfather clock have crept dangerously close to eleven by the time Crowley steps out the door of the bookshop and into the night. He's not closing up. The shop was never open. 

Not for anyone but him. 

He’d spent the day lurking in the shifting shadows, coiled around the leg of angel's favorite chair, keeping guard. 

Watching for movement. 

Praying for change.

For resolution.

He marked time by the tolling of Aziraphale's clock, the ebb and flow of the commuters outside, and a single ray of sunlight carving its path across the floor, disappearing out the window at the stroke of seven. That’s when he came out of hiding, became his demon self once again.

Crowley pops his collar against the wind and locks the door behind him. He takes one last look at the pane beneath his fingertips, running them lightly over a ridiculous note affixed to the glass. It’s a note he wrote on Aziraphale's behest, proclaiming when customers can expect the shop to open. 

The long and short of it being - don't. 

I open the shop on most weekdays about 9:30 or perhaps 10 a.m. While occasionally I open the shop as early as 8, I have been known not to open until 1, except on Tuesday...

Crowley had written it to irritate his angel - a demonic dig, as it were. But after reading it, Aziraphale couldn't have been more delighted.

"Brilliant!" he'd said. "Masterfully convoluted! Now I can finally relax and finish my crossword puzzle in peace! Thank you, my dear."

Crowley had gone warm at Aziraphale's words. He had never felt so overwhelmed by praise. 

But now, the sign makes him bitter. 

It should have long been replaced with one that reads on holiday, circling the globe, or living the happily ever after life in Mayfair with my husband.

But that wasn't in the cards for Crowley and Aziraphale. 

Crowley snaps his fingers to lower the blinds and snuff the lights, and takes off at a brisk clip to the park.

Alone.

He does this every night - haunts St. James's Park close to midnight when he'd rather be at home asleep. Crowley had planned to sleep the next seven millennia away, wait until the world started over again before he showed his face to the sun, but infuriatingly, he couldn't. It's impossible for him to get comfortable in his bed when there should be someone else beside him, sitting up and reading by his damned holy light.

Crowley never thought he'd miss that stupid light piercing his eyelids and interrupting his slumber, but he misses it more than anything.

There was nothing left for Crowley after he lost Aziraphale in the bookshop fire. 

He'd always felt that if they went their separate ways, it would sever his heart, but nothing more. He'd go on. But the assumption had been that Aziraphale would still be - exist, just not in Crowley's life.

When Aziraphale went, everything good went with him - love, hope, color, and taste all vacated Crowley's world. But Crowley was too much of a coward to call it quits and join him in oblivion, since, as far as Crowley was concerned, that was where immortal beings ended up if they were eliminated from Earth. Heaven and Hell only existed for humans. Aziraphale and Crowley were created for this world. 

For them, this was it.

He thought he would get into his car and drive, but he couldn't make himself leave. He would get as far as Kent or Surrey, then his Bentley would stop.

Whether he was the one pressing the brake or his car - it varied.

Either way, he'd take a deep breath, toss off his glasses, rub the blur from his watery eyes, and the next thing he knew, he was home.

Couldn't sleep. 

Couldn't leave. 

Couldn't escape. 

Yup. This was Hell. Undoubtedly.

Since he couldn't stay put and he couldn't run away, he spent night after night roaming the park - a ghoul shrouded in shadows of the past. Selfishly, he did everything he could to make the park inhospitable after dark, the same way Aziraphale did for his bookshop to deter customers. He made the place dreary, filled it with suspicious shadows, cold spots, and feelings of dread. In his attempt to get rid of anyone who might bother him, he unwittingly thwarted a few mugging attempts and a handful of assaults, which eliminated crime in St. James's Park for the most part. 

Otherwise, he kept to himself. 

It didn't matter to Crowley one bit that Adam had saved the planet from Heaven and Hell's blasted war. Or that, in doing so, neither side seemed interested in Crowley anymore. 

Without Aziraphale by his side, Crowley wanted none of it. 

These nightly walks, re-visiting the spots where they'd met up through time, didn't help. His memories of Aziraphale had begun to erode what was left of his soul.

His regret over the one thing he had left unsaid.

But there was a handshake exchange afoot.

His late-night trips to the park were how he noticed the light, blooming, growing on the bench smack dab in front of the duck pond.

Their bench.

A thread of silver light that lasted one solid minute from beginning to end.

It was spectacular. Unbelievable in its brilliance. Of the few souls who braved Crowley's shield of demonic influence, only Crowley seemed to notice it. And he couldn't avoid it.

It called to him.

Crowley stalked the light for over a week, never getting too close. It seemed like the kind of thing Gabriel might conjure up to trap him. Heaven may not give two shits about him, but archangels have been known to hold serious grudges.

He resisted its pull, but Crowley is a curious demon, and curiosity got the better of him. Besides, what did he care if Gabriel got the drop on him? Crowley was up for a fight, even one he might lose.

He had nothing better to do.

Crowley walked straight to the bench and sat down the moment the light appeared. He stared at it, into it, trying to sniff out its origins, what it was doing there. Being this close to it, he realized he was wrong. It didn't appear out of thin air. It was a consequence - evidence of a seam ripping in the universe, and on the other side...

Crowley only saw him for a second, but that was all he needed.

Aziraphale.

They locked eyes. Aziraphale's face lit up as if he were seeing the stars for the first time. 

Stars Crowley created.

He was quite a distance from the tear. Like Crowley, he avoided it as much as possible. But seeing Crowley on the other side, he ran toward it, calling out a single word. It was all he had time for before the rend closed, and he was gone again.

The word he managed was Crowley.

Every night after, Crowley would arrive at the bench with plenty of time for the two of them to speak. As best as they could deduce, something bizarre happened during that fire in Aziraphale's bookshop. Unprecedented. Crowley assumed, at first, that the flames that devoured his angel's pride and joy had come from Hellfire. But they didn't. And Aziraphale, standing in the center of the transportation portal in his corporeal form, never made it to Heaven. He got caught in between. 

Purgatory. 

A place that many supernatural beings consider scarier than Hell. 

A railway station with a way in but no way out. For immortals, that is. Mortal souls can earn a place upstairs depending on how they behave in this celestial waiting room. But as humans and demons don't concern themselves much with Purgatory lore, there is no book in Hell or on Earth that can help. Crowley has tried finding one - traveled to libraries and broken into collections he would do only on Aziraphale's behalf. But for all of his lofty capers, he found nothing. There might be a book in Heaven, but Crowley has no way to access it.

And Aziraphale is trapped.

Wouldn't Crowley know it, but even under these circumstances, Aziraphale found ways to continue his insufferable good deeds, helping mortal souls trapped with him to move along. Though Crowley believes Aziraphale has an ulterior motive.

Peace and quiet.

Aziraphale has one of those faces that attracts people to him, people who long to share their woeful life stories. So he listens, and then he counsels. When that soul moves on, he earns the most sought-after prize of all - an additional measure of silence.

Crowley and Aziraphale thought Heaven would notice his absence by now. Gabriel’s memos were piling up on Aziraphale's desk, untouched. Or by the massive influx of souls arriving at the pearly gates. 

But no luck.

The angels in charge of the prisoners in the bottomless pits of Hell are more on the ball than the ones who keep an eye on the poor souls stuck in between.

This boundary between Earth and Purgatory dissolves at the stroke of midnight but zips up as soon as the clock strikes 12:01. Then Aziraphale disappears, not returning again till the following day. They are permitted one minute to tell each other everything, and they do their best to get it all out. 

There's one thing Crowley hasn't gotten to yet. Hasn’t for 6000 years. 

His one regret.

He plans on telling Aziraphale tonight on the off chance they can't come up with a solution to this.

Crowley feels the light before it appears. It tugs at something deep inside, ushers him to his seat on the bench. It arrives with a clap like thunder, so loud he’s surprised when it doesn’t shatter windows and crack foundations. Air whooshes by him at hurricane speeds, sucked into the impending rend. 

A second later, Aziraphale appears beside him. 

In a different dimension but beside him, framed by the light as if he's a reflection in a mirror. 

Crowley inches his hand close, knowing without seeing that Aziraphale’s hand rests similarly on the opposite side. They cannot touch. They’ve tried. 

Neither can cross the barrier.

“So, my dear,” Aziraphale starts, looking through the shimmer at Crowley, “how’s the bookshop?”

“Right as rain as always,” Crowley replies. He used to mutter, “Hello, Crowley. How are you? You’re looking well this fine evening,” but realized how immature and hurtful that was when Aziraphale heard him, and his face fell. Aziraphale wasn’t disregarding Crowley by not asking after him first. It was too painful for Aziraphale to acknowledge how far apart they were from one another. “How have you been, angel?”

“Can’t complain. Although I could really go for a plate of crepes. Or perhaps a nice, hearty gazpacho.”

“Don’t you worry. The moment I have you free of there, I’ll take you to dinner. Anywhere you want to go.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Aziraphale says, the longing in his eyes heartbreaking. “It wouldn’t be so bad over here if I had a book or two.”

“I did try passing you one over, but… “

“Yes, yes, I recall.” Aziraphale sighs at the memory of a favorite Wilde hardcover disintegrating into thin air. Luckily, that didn’t happen to either of them when they attempted to cross. “Valiant effort. Disastrous outcome.” 

“Meddled in anyone's affairs today, have you?” 

“As a matter of fact… ” Aziraphale smiles brightly. “A charming lady named Agatha. Lived a good long life. Died at the age of 93, I believe she said.”

“Wot in the world did she do to make it into Purgatory?”

“The usual. Attachment to sin.”

Crowley nods, lips twisting with a knowing grin. “Let me guess… the premarital variety?”

“That’s the one. She also poisoned an abusive stepfather, not her own, broke into a research facility to rescue rabbits, and stole a petty neighbor’s tomatoes on the daily until the day she died.”

Crowley chuckles. “Ah, yes. You’ve got to love old ladies.”

“Indeed.”

“Wot did you do?”

“Same as always. I had her give a proper confession. I forgave her for the poisoning, of course… “

“Of course.”

“... and the rabbit liberation. But we talked through the issue with the tomatoes. I explained that trespassing on her neighbor’s property is wrong even if the woman did dye all her delicates on her drying line puce.”

Crowley makes a face. He has no idea what puce is, but it sounds vile. “Probably justified there.”

“But that wasn’t the crux of her dilemma.”

“Wot was?”

Aziraphale turns, eyes wandering in the direction of the pond even though he can’t see it. “She misses the love of her life.”

Crowley's eyes widen. “Oh.”

“I assured her that her lover would be with her soon. After that, she was fine moving on.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale says wistfully. “He beloved misses her very much. They make a lovely couple.”

“That’ll be nice. The two of them reuniting.”

“Yes. It will be… for them.”

Silence falls between them. They steer clear of silence when they can, seeing how short their time is together, but it can't be helped. Aziraphale could work from here till eternity joining lost souls, but he can't help himself do the same. 

The weight of that overwhelms them.

Crowley's phone vibrates in his pocket, signaling their minute together coming to an end. The silver frame phases, its light dimming, sputtering like a candle about to go out. As with every time before, Crowley tries to stop it, tries to stop time to keep Aziraphale with him longer. But it doesn’t work. Either this rend works outside of the laws of time, or time has had it with Crowley’s antics, but this can’t be stopped. 

Crowley’s imagination isn’t strong enough.

“We only have a little time left,” Aziraphale says, “and we’re no closer to solving this puzzle!”

“I know,” Crowley replies. “I'll keep working on it. I promise. But before you go, I just wanted to tell you… ”

The air crackles as the rip begins to mend, the noise drowning them out.

"Yes, my dear?"

"I need to tell you... "

“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale starts to fade as the gap sutures shut. “I’m so sorry… "

The tear closes, his angel gone, and in the ensuing silence, Crowley’s last words hang in the air, having escaped his lips a second too late for their recipient to hear.

“… I love you.”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m Always Curious Part Thirty Three

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone’s having a good week 💕

Warnings: Cursing, a lil fluff, a lil angst. Y’all know me. (I know these are the same as last week but they are.... Still True). Summary: I’d been on the Pinnacle for the last couple of days, once the briefing that Eli and I had completed was cleared by Command.

“I just hope that you are fully aware of the fact that you are never allowed to criticize me again.” “That seems a little extreme—” “Oh, that seems extreme?” I retorted, brows raising, “I’m going to have to disagree with you, Captain. You are not allowed to tell me that I have taken a reckless action or made a snap-decision ever again because you jumped on a Phaser.”

“Out of necessity!” Chris argued, “It’s not as though I did it for fun, just to see what it would feel like.” “Mm. And what did it feel like?” I watched Chris on the holo, and saw how he directed his eyes to the ceiling for a moment of consideration before he answered, “...Sharp, seering...Painful.” “I see.” “Mm.” “You know why that might be?” “I do know—” “Maybe it’s because you jumped—” “I get it—” “On a Phaser.” “This is a very rich argument from a woman that launched herself into a space without a tether.” I felt a shiver trickle down my spine and I shifted in my seat a little, pulling myself from a memory of a different mission— one undertaken in the midst of a war; I pulled myself from the darkness of a void, a sudden yanking at my ankle, my hands desperately clinging to the side of a K’Vek Class Battle Cruiser as the space around me rattled and filled with Warbirds. “Trust me,” I said, careful to keep my tone light, “It’s safer without the tether.” I averted my eyes, reaching for my glass. Even on the holographic communication system, Christopher seemed to have clocked that shiver and shift; I could see his brow furrowing and his head tipping, waiting for the story. It wasn’t one that I was itching to share. I nodded to the bandages wrapped around his midsection as I set my glass back down. “Pollard give you hell, at least?” He chuckled lightly, wincing with it as he nodded and patted over his bandage, “She did.” “Good. Someone needs to without Boyce and Una around to keep you in line.” Chris’ eyes narrowed minutely, but he couldn’t hide the smile that crept onto his lips. I couldn’t help mine, either. I’d been fighting off smiles since I’d gotten the message that Pike was calling me at all. I’d been on the Pinnacle for the last couple of days, once the briefing that Eli and I had completed was cleared by Command. Eli had yet to find a Communications Bridge officer for the Pinnacle, and until he did, I was subbing in. Christopher had called to ask about the briefing. But… Like the old days, when I had been called into his Ready Room to confirm the details of a report, we had drifted to other things. We’d actually been having a light, amiable conversation until I’d noticed the bandages wrapped around him. Jumped on a Phaser. Unbelievable.

“So how are you finding the Bridge?” He asked. “Fine,” I shrugged, “But it’s… Different. A little weird. I’m used to having someone else in charge— I mean, there’s Durling, obviously, but there’s always been another level of Communications above me and now there’s kinda just… Me.” “What about during the war? Durling was a strategy officer previous to this post, wasn’t he?” “...I guess I don’t really count the war as time spent in Starfleet,” I realized after a few moments, shaking my head a little, “Maybe that’s wrong, or...Or strange, but it’s not what I joined to do. I was still translating, sure, but it feels like there was such a dissonance between it and this,” I nodded back toward my current quarters. Christopher took a long moment with that, watching me, and I fought the urge to avert my eyes or turn my head from him. It was hard, talking to him about these things, but if we ever wanted any sort of friendship again, they did need to be discussed in some estimation. I did turn my head, though, as a message chimed from my PADD. “Sorry—” I leaned over, grabbing it and scanning it. I sighed softly. “I’m needed on the Bridge,” I gave him an apologetic look, but Christopher just smiled and nodded. “Be careful,” He urged. “... I’m so sorry, which of the two of us—” “Okay—” “Literally threw themselves—” “Thank you, Commander—” “On top of a firing Phaser?” “I’ll have to review the notes of this call and get back to you.” I shook my head, fighting the urge to mirror Chris’ smile. “Unbelievable,” I muttered. “Speak soon,” He tacked on, and I felt my smile push through, then. “We will,” I nodded before closing the channel. -- Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Dropping out of warp hadn’t been an issue the first time, but the Pinnacle had stalled jumping into it the second, and the drop out of warp that had followed was a hell of a bumpy landing. Our shields had been up, as had the shields of the ship that we’d nearly collided with— the Enterprise. We’d been hailed, and I’d expected to find Una on the other side, asking where the hell our helmsman had learned how to steer (though she’d never use those words exactly), but… But when the viewscreen had flickered to life, we’d been greeted by a man— a man with dark blonde hair and suspicious, narrowed eyes. His uniform was Command gold, but not in the form that we were used to— he had a black collar, and gold bands around his cuffs. I rose slowly, cautiously, taking in as much of the man and the ship behind him as I could. Eli’s brow furrowed as he glanced back toward me, as startled as I was. “Identify yourself,” The man requested. “Eli Durling, Captain of the U.S.S. Pinnacle,” Eli answered, “Yourself?” “James T. Kirk, Captain, U.S.S. Enterprise.” I blinked dumbly at him before I reached out, briefly muting our Communications as I turned to Eli. “This is bad.” “An astute observation, thank you, Commander.” “You’re welcome, Captain.” I raised my hand from the mute to allow Durling and this… Kirk to speak. Their stardate was years ahead of our time, and my stomach twisted, concerned. We were in another time, possibly another universe, so— “What is it?” I turned back to Eli, unable to help my folded arms and clenched jaw. “If he’s captain,” I nodded to the man, who had turned to consult with his own crew, “Then where’s Christopher?” Eli frowned, “Maybe he retired,” He offered. And maybe I would’ve accepted that before. Maybe I would’ve accepted that explanation and allowed myself to refocus on the matter at hand-- but in my time spent on Somonia, I’d come to trust my gut instincts strongly. I shook my head, turning back to my console as I muttered, “Something feels wrong.” “If you could send the coordinates which you jumped from,” We turned back to the viewscreen at the request from a new voice, “That would be most helpful.”  “An excellent suggestion, Mr. Spock,” Kirk smiled at the man that had said so. I stilled, staring. He was older, of course— but same haircut, same brows, same pointed ears. He caught sight of me staring, and he lifted a single questioning brow. I lowered my eyes, turning back to the console. If anyone was going to be able to tell me where Chris was, surely it would be him.

--

“You seemed quite alarmed by my name, Commander. Is it safe to assume that we are familiar with one another when you’re from?” “Yes,” I nodded, giving Mr. Spock a small smile. I had beamed over to the Enterprise, along with Durling, and two of his Science officers. “May I inquire about the nature of our acquaintanceship?” “We have been stationed on the same ship and we attended the Academy together. We’re friends.” I hesitated before, “Mr. Spock, if I may ask… Are you familiar with a man named Christopher Pike?” Spock’s brow rose again, his head tilting to the side for a moment as he seemed to contemplate both my expression and my question. “Quite familiar,” He nodded slightly. “Was he Captain of the Enterprise?” “Previously, yes.” “And now?” Spock went quiet again, eyes drifting briefly to the table. “You say that we are friends, in your time,” He said. “Yes.” “What relationship have you to Captain Pike?” I had to be careful. This Spock was not my Spock, but I could assume that he would reason through these things the same way: he wouldn’t want to tell me about anything, for fear that any knowledge on my part could lead to some change. So I was careful to keep my face neutral, and I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “He is as good a friend of mine as you are.” I could see Spock considering my answer, and his. “Captain Pike suffered an incident that left him unable to command.” My gut twisted, but I was careful not to suck in a breath or reel away as I wanted. It was possible that whatever occurred in this timeline would not necessarily occur when and where I was from— I seemed to not be on the Enterprise at all in this timeline; it was possible that I hadn't even joined Starfleet. Whatever may've happened to Christopher here may not happen to Christopher when I was from. But on the off-chance it did— I had to learn what I could before returning home. That was, of course, assuming that we could make it home. “...What sort of incident?” Tag list: @angels-pie​ ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta​  ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ ; @how-am-i-serpose-to-know​ ; @onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles​ ; @inmyowncorner​  ; @tardis-23​  ; @paintballkid711​ ; @katrynec​ ; @hypnobananaangelfish ; @elen-aranel​ ; @blueeyesatnight​ ; @hotchswifey​​

[obeymeluv]

Red String of Fate

Something a little different! Drabble lead + headcanons! I really like the idea of being connected to someone, so have this~

Also: very long, so I only did a few of the brothers. I tend to do them in order but I tried to jump around for variety’s sake since I published a partial post the other day.

Features: Lucifer, Mammon, and Asmo (short-ish, but for a reason. Makes sense when you read the lead-up),

I have to get to bed. Need to get up early for studying + a morning class. Really love this idea so I’ll be working on something unique for the rest of the bros :)

Casual conversations about soulmates and bad dates inspires Asmo to find your one true love. He swears up and down there’s a book that can do it. Being a lover of love and feeling like it’s his duty to see you off into the best of hands—the hands made to hold you!—he sets out to find the book. Legend says Cupid pricked his finger while writing out love lists with his enchanted quill and threw the dirty pages away, deeming them unusable. Instead of being discarded, they were salvaged by another and turned into a book that would answer any love-related question the reader had.

All it would cost is a drop of blood.

Cupid, who was very serious about his task of uniting hearts and forging bonds, felt insulted by the book. He felt cheapened and could not see the joy it would bring before his arrow was destined to arrive. In a fit of rage he threw it from the heavens, assuming it would disintegrate before landing in another’s hands.

He was wrong.

The book circulated for centuries, making its way through humble and haughty, poor and princely. Some say it even inspired the most romantic of playwrights. It was kept by a family of matchmakers for generations before their home was pillaged and burned by a spurned heart. Traded out of guilt or in a desperate moment for silver or food (Asmo didn’t remember which), it ended up in the hands of a scholar. He sat with his crush and read the book, the two asking it hundreds of questions and finding themselves quite content with each other.

After the two got married, they were convinced it was a lucky charm of sorts and passed it along to their friends. Once those friends found their true loves, it started a chain of giving. When one family had all of their children married off, they would pass the book on to someone else. The book spent a fair amount of time collecting dust when one person lost their soulmate too soon and didn’t open it for about five years, convinced it would stay blank. A new love came into their life and they were so moved by the magic, by the joy, that they donated the book to a thrift shop.

Asmodeus lost the history after the thrift shop. Too many people went in and out of it, too much time had passed. All he knew is that it ended up in the hands of a witch who made serious money off of love potions and romantic divinations. One of her grandchildren—a quarter succubus and three-quarters human—had donated it to RAD’s library.

He should’ve just texted his friends about the damn thing instead of researching it like Levi does his events. Should he be proud of all the effort? You could be, but he was kind of put off by all the work. It was shabby and beaten, hardly bigger than a typical planner. Definitely unassuming and definitely looked like it’d seen some things. Asmodeus was expecting something gorgeously gilded and velvet.

Hopefully a peek into your future would make up for all the disappointment. “I bet it’s me.” he touched a finger to his soft lips with a giddy smile, little ring glinting in the light. He practically skipped out of the library and back to the House of Lamentation. At the very least, he’d get to go on and on about how he found it and how grateful you should be that he cares for you so much to do so!

Asmodeus whisks you away into his room, the bed already set with pillows that were both aesthetic and luxurious. Nothing too out of the norm for him, but he wanted something that complimented the romantic undertones of this little endeavor. He coddled the two of you in a plush pink blanket before cracking it open and guiding your finger along the edge of the page. The red soaked in, ink blossoming in a faint pink that turned a brilliant scarlet.

The book grew warm, almost burning as the scarlet began to sear and shimmer on the page. You heard him hiss and grabbed the book as he started to squirm and scoot out from under it. You’d barely grabbed the book when pinky-red smoke exploded violently in your face. It didn’t burn or have a taste but it was surprisingly thick.

“What? No names!” Asmodeus had finally swatted away enough of the smoke to see a blank book. “It’s supposed to be names!” he scowled, kittenish fangs threatening to poke at his lower lip.

“Maybe there’s been a revision,” you blinked distractedly, talking more to yourself than him. Nope, still there. You wagged your finger at Asmodeus, showing off the bright red string tied around it.

His oncoming rant receded immediately, eyes shining a gorgeous and unmistakable pink. “Let’s see where it goes!”

To Lucifer:  

He’s in the middle of doing paperwork (shocker) when he finds a vibrant red string tangling in his pen and catching on the lines

Tries to shake it off (very undignified, glad no one saw it)

Puts his pen down to pick at it and untie it. When that doesn’t work, he slips the opposite glove off with his teeth and lets his demon aura come out just enough to turn his fingernails into claws

That didn’t work either

Physically tries to pull the string off and begrudgingly stops when he realizes his finger might come off first

A huffy, annoyed man

Takes an awkward pic with his D.D.D and sends it to Diavolo, wanting to know if it’s a prank

Diavolo swears it’s not and Barbatos suggests it could be the red string theory, that thing some humans believe in.

Could it be true? Does he have a soulmate? Could he, being a fallen angel? Demons had soul mates?

All the questions swirl and he just leans back in his fancy padded chair to absorb it all. There’s something beautifully sad and...comforting...at the thought of demons having a soulmate, someone made just for them

Lucifer doesn’t really think that a soulmate’s at the end of the string, but he tells himself it’s a walk for the sake of his health, to stretch, and sets off to find the string

The eldest is quite surprised to run into you and Asmo, the string clearly tied around your finger.

“A bit overboard, don’t you think, Asmo?” Lucifer’s a little aggravated by it. What is this, a set up?!

His little brother swears against it, holding up a beaten book not even Mammon would waste money on.

Apparently, the string disappears when the soulmates touch their fingers together. Lucifer rolls his eyes and tries to soften his scowl as he presses his finger to yours.

You’re both surprised when the string thickens until it resembles a ribbon, kinking in the shape of a heart before disappearing in a burst of pinky-red smoke that has your fingers tingling

Lucifer says nothing, silently stunned and heart yearning at the tingling in his finger. It’s warm, like your love.

To Mammon:

IS IT ONE OF THE WITCHES?! IS THIS A TRACKER?!

First reaction: “OI! What the hell?!”

Also shakes his finger

Immediate second reaction is to chew on it and try to get it off

Ends up sucking on his tender finger like a baby because he basically chewed on himself instead of the string

Texted all the sorcerers and witches he knew. They all deny hexing him or mentioning him in potion-making.

He’s surprised to find he can still move around with the string. It’s not straining or limiting him, so he goes in his closet of magical seals, peeling a few back to reveal a sizeable hoard of stuff he’d stolen over the centuries (including some stuff he had on him from the Fall).

He tries daggers of all sizes and types. They don’t cut the string, either

When nothing seems to work, he marches towards the source, wrapping it around his fist with a grumble.

He pulls on it at random just because it’s a minor inconvenience and he couldn’t get it off.

Mammon notice that it runs under Asmo’s door and he yanks on it really hard, hoping he’s tearing thread off of a sweater or something. Annoying ass little brother!

When you yelp he freezes. Brain hasn’t quite kicked in yet and he yanks it again to check the reaction. Another yelp, and a thick thud behind the door.

Sounds like you’re involved somehow. Oops.

Turns out you had a hard time coming out of the room because he wound the string too quick (and weren’t strong enough to tug it back to yourself)

Asmo’s in the middle of lecturing him as he squishes your poor little face, scowling and lamenting that MAMMON is your soulmate. MAMMON, of all people, who’d been smacking you against a door for the last few minutes!

Now Mammon’s interested and needs the story

Gets a biiiig shit-eating grin when he realizes what’s happened.

Takes your hand with his usual fanfare of ‘’Course I would be! I’m their MAIN man! Their BEST man!”

The string seems to tie your hands together for a brief moment before exploding in a burst of smoke and Mammon’s still grinning like an idiot.

He doesn’t let go of your hand

To Asmodeus:

He’s waving that smoke away when he feels a new, subtle weight on his finger

Whatever it is, it’s flitting and ticklish. He can feel it catching on some of the fashion rings he wears

Asmodeus doesn’t know whether he wants to purr or squeal. He did something that hurt your human ears though.

Didn’t realize it hurt your ears until after the noise bottoms out to a lower pitch, and immediately cups his hands over yours ears, sliding them up into your hair while he showers the crown of your head in apology kisses.

Makes a video clip to send to the bros in a group chat and has to redo it several times because they can’t really hear his words over the smug purring and clicking

It warms his heart to know he has a real soulmate. Asmodeus really struggles with the concept of genuine, non-sexual love.

He figured the most he could ever get was platonic love or brotherly love, but this is a whole new thing for him and he’s honestly blown away

For a brief moment he feels like Heaven’s Jewel again, so treasured and special. It almost makes him cry

He’s lowkey crying.

100% takes advantage of the fact that your fingers are tied together until you touch fingertips. You guys giggle quietly and cuddle close as he loops the string around his finger so you put your arm around his neck

“You don’t need a string to make me touch you, you know.” you tease him, wrinkling your nose in that cute human way you have

“I know,” Asmo gives you an Eskimo kiss that turns into a few butterfly kisses on your mouth, leaning over you and into you.

Totally uses the string as an excuse to cuddle you and turn down any activities the bros want you to go to. (”Can’t, they’re kind of tied up.”)

Let this baby bask in his sure thing, okay? He really needs it, and you know he’s good for it

Gives you hand kisses and cuddles into you

Gets the bright idea to try to bottle the smoke that’ll erupt when you touch fingertips. Sacrifices his most beautiful perfume bottle to immortalize this moment

Catches the littlest bit, so thin that he has to hold it up to the light to see it.

Complains about probably swallowing most of it during that attempt

Is now even more shameless about demanding his cuddles and attention because you guys are destined lovers.

[spicysoftsweet]

Why Not Her? (Illumi x Reader)

A/N: Buckle up, this is long as fuck and dramatic as HELL. Please read @hisokapegger‘s fic for the first part, and consider this the other perspective. If one of us is feeling up to it, we’re gonna write some more perspectives.

To the tune of Jolene by Dolly Parton here ~

Part one by @hisokapegger here

TW: pregnancy

---

To love is to trust.

You had done the unthinkable by choosing to love and to trust what to others was despicable. You had made the leap and been rewarded for it with the love of Illumi Zoldyck. 

Your relationship would be strong and lasting; you were sure of it. Prior to coming to the sprawling mansion he had grown up in, he had already paved a way for you after all. With enough convincing (or rather, over a year of quiet arguments and louder fights that you thankfully weren’t privy to), his parents had begrudgingly accepted the idea of you. 

And today was the day you would finally be presented as his fiancee.

He had chosen you yourself. There was nothing to fear, as long as he was with you. You reminded yourself of this as you held his hand while he led you into the manor.

You kept your smile on as you navigated through, following just a few steps behind but still linked. What you needed to do was look charming, even if you were afraid - first impressions were paramount to people as elitist as Illumi’s family. You had to channel grace, even if the butterflies in your stomach would barely settle the further you went.

And you did so well, exuding charm and inner peace to everyone you met - that is, until you met eyes with her. 

Illumi introduced the beautiful, sylphlike creature as one of his most trusted butlers. She smiled at the praise, and the moment you took in the soft features painted on pale skin with a hint of olive, something inside of you trembled for just a moment. 

“This is Kali. She’s been with me ever since I was a child,” he explained, with fondness. 

You nodded, trying to ease the thump in your heart, keeping your smile genuine. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Kali.”

You were being truthful. You sensed intrinsically she was sweet and kind, and you knew you would end up liking her the longer you spent time together. She would be your personal butler from then on, anyway. You decided to ignore the nagging sense of impending doom that knocked at your subconscious, shoving it into the deepest recesses of your mind.

As Illumi took you away to move on, you turned back to sneak a look at Kali once more.

And then you saw it; you wished you hadn’t seen it: her eyes shining with sadness for just for a split second before she noticed you and looked away.

----

As you had anticipated, you and Kali became fast friends. You knew Illumi loved you and that his feelings hadn’t changed by the way he spoke excitedly about your upcoming future together, took the time to fill up your quarters with the things you liked, and indulged you in soft kisses and touches when you were alone together.

But the thought that you were assuming a space that didn’t belong to you, and not in a way as innocuous as sitting in someone else’s seat, continued to linger in the back of your mind.

It festered every time Illumi came by to see you while you were exchanging stories with Kali when you failed to see a difference in the way he looked at you both. It reared its ugly head whenever she teased him in your presence, or whenever she gave you a tidbit about his favorite things. There was a twinkle to her eye whenever she spoke about him, and while you loved her, you started to hate it.

But jealousy was such an unbecoming emotion, wasn’t it?

Illumi loved you, it didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter.

---

“I want Kali to make one of the wedding cakes.” Illumi stated, voice as light and inconsequential as usual, as you sat side by side in one of the many gazebos on the field. 

“Oh?” You asked, looking up from the catalog of flower arrangements you were perusing, despite the fact that you knew his mother would override any decisions you made anyway (you had decided you would let her win the battle over flowers so that you could win the war, after all).

“There’s a recipe only she knows,” he continued. “It’s been my favorite since I was a kid. She’s aware and has agreed.”

“That sounds lovely, Illumi.”

It truly did, and that was the worst part.

---

Your wedding came and went, and it was every bit as beautiful as you imagined. You remained in Illumi’s arms after consummating your union, and somehow, shockingly, he fell asleep first. Or maybe he was just closing his eyes - yes, that was the more rational explanation. You snuggled closer into his neck, and wrapped your arms even tighter around him.

Still flushed, you whispered a breathy, “I love you.”

And to your terror, the little green monster that had spared you for the past few days came back in full force. 

But so does Kali! It screamed from the parts you thought you had locked away, and your heart started to race.

Illumi didn’t open his eyes, but he pressed his lips to your forehead in a small, quiet motion before pressing you even closer to him, likely sensing your unrest. 

What you needed to hear him say was those three words back.

But alas, those three words never came, and the little green monster grew just a little bit stronger that night.

---

You could have your choice of men, but I can never love again

He’s the only one for me, [Kali]

---

It didn’t take very long for you to become heavy with child, and for whatever reason, pregnancy was particularly hard on you. The fatigue, back pain and constant nausea would have been manageable if it weren’t the fact that your ankles swelling was nothing compared to the swelling in your face, and you were unsure if the stretch marks that coursed over your belly would ever fade. Just looking at yourself in the mirror some days would ruin your morning.

Kali remained lithe and beautiful as always, graciously by your side to help you with the most menial tasks. Taking your hand to help you get to the bathroom or to take a daily walk around the manor to prevent blood clots from sitting around, keeping you company while Illumi was away; you were in need of constant assistance, and she was always there for you.

She was an angel, and your best friend.

One evening as you ate dinner, just the two of you, you let out a sigh.

Kali smiled in response, attempting to reassure you. “Pregnancy seems difficult, but you wear it well,” she mused, pouring chamomile tea for the two of you to enjoy.

You gave out a dramatic snort as you took a sip. “I’ll never look the same again, and I’m pretty sure this whole story about a “pregnancy glow” is fake,” you huffed as you set the teacup down.

“But Illumi’s so happy, he talks about it all the time!” Kali exclaimed cheerfully, setting down her own cup. “Just yesterday, he was talking about baby names you had discussed, and settling on a few. It was quite funny to watch actually.”

A knot formed in your stomach. The last time you spoken to or seen Illumi was multiple days ago... 

“Was he home yesterday?” You blurted out, then were embarrassed to even have to ask your friend about your own husband’s whereabouts. 

She furrowed her brow as she looked at you in confusion. “Yeah, of course, he was just here for a couple of hours, but...”

He didn’t come see you? What she left unsaid was enough to set you on edge, but you couldn’t be mad at her, only at yourself. 

Who could love you anyway, the way you were now?

It took you a moment to get up on your own, but you had to stand and make your way from the table. Turning away from her so that she couldn’t see the bitter tears that were ready to fall from your face.

“__, are you alright?”

“Mmhmm,” You choked out and nodded, your voice regrettably higher than usual. You bit your lip.

“I think I’m going to bed early tonight.”

You could hear the chair shift back as she rose.

“Okay,” she said, in a soft, compassionate voice. You heard her light footsteps make their way to the door, pause for a moment, and finally the door closed shut behind you.

And at the sound of the closed door, as if on cue, your tears began to fall. 

---

Your smile is like a breath of spring

Your voice is soft like summer rain

And I cannot compete with you

[Kali]

---

You spent the rest of your pregnancy on bedrest, before producing a beautiful, dark-haired little girl. Skin to skin contact was brief before Illumi took the baby in his arms, inspected it, and with the smallest smile of pleasure, handed it to Kali.

You watched as Kali cooed at your new child, standing next to your still pleased-appearing husband, the picture of a perfect family. Even their features complemented each other; it was like a knife twisting in your chest. 

Kikyo gave you a quick look over before running over to them to pick up her new grandchild. For a split second, you wondered if you had imagined a look between pity and understanding, hidden beneath her visor. 

The nightmare of being overlooked.

---

And I can easily understand

How you could easily take my man

But you don't know what he means to me

[Kali]

---

It took you not too long after that to grow bitter. Maybe it was postpartum depression, maybe it was a year of feeling inadequate, maybe it was the fact that you knew your friend was more deserving than you. 

But either way, you withdrew. From Illumi, from Kali, from everyone. It wasn’t hard to do so. You did what you were there for. You’d produced a child to appease your husband and your grandparents. 

How you yearned for freedom...

The freedom that Kali had to love without the responsibility. If only you could switch places.

“___, please eat-”

“I’m not hungry,” you replied, before she could even finish. Kali pulled the plate of food back to her.

“Illumi is upset with me that you’re not eating.”

“Are you worried about Illumi or me?” You quipped, then covered your own mouth, shocked at what had come out.

“...”

Kali was speechless, but the look on her face betrayed a layer of guilt that you couldn’t tolerate. You were right. It was less about you than about Illumi.

You knew she cared about you too, and yet…

“I know you love him,” you choked out. Kali said nothing, her beautiful eyes still on you, as you began to cry. 

“I know you wish he had chosen you instead of me, and honestly, I wish he had.”

----

I had to have this talk with you

My happiness depends on you

And whatever you decide to do

[Kali]

---

The next morning, you decided you would seek some professional help. You didn’t know how much of this was depression vs. postpartum baby blues, but something had to be done. Kali did not deserve your anger at all.

You didn’t see Kali that morning. 

When you finally spoke up your concern of your whereabouts to Illumi, hoping not to avoid any trouble, his face was impassive as usual. 

“She asked if she could leave.”

The butlers didn’t just have the option to leave… Or did they?

“I didn’t know they could quit,” you questioned, suspiciously. 

“They usually can’t. But in this case, there was an exception.” He said. With that, he turned fully to face you, and pressed a soft kiss on your lips. It had been a long time since you’d kissed, since you’d withdrawn from him in your depression, and you missed it. But it felt wrong.

You withdrew again from his touch.

“What did she say? What was the exception?” You demanded to know.

“She told me she loved me, and that you knew the entire time,” he said, simply. Your stomach did a backflip.

“Normally the punishment is immediate death, but I know how much you care about her. And she was good to you.” He continued, taking your hands in his. You pulled away slowly, staring straight through him. He didn’t insist on it.

“Where is she now?”

“Off the manor, most likely.”

You started to walk towards the gate, and he held on to your arm.

“Where are you going?”

A panic started to rise in you.

“Bring her back! I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong!” Tears started to stream down your cheeks again, as the realization set in that such a petty feeling such as jealousy had managed to turn you into a villain. 

“She wanted to leave.”

“She loves you!” You protested.

“So?”

So? It was such an aggressively simple sentence. You looked up at him in shock, enough that it gave you pause.

“What do you mean so? Why me? Why not her when she’s perfect?”

“She’s not you.”

Your hand almost flew to his face from the sheer level of rage, the urge to defend her feelings coursing through you, but your palm stopped right at the side of his face. Instead, you sank to the floor, and sobbed for Kali, and for yourself. 

---

[Kali, Kali, Kali, Kali~]

I'm begging of you please don't take my man

[tobesobri]

𝓦elcome to a brand new story from me that I never thought I would be posting but here we are! This chapter is very much introductory, which is like obvious being the first chapter but tbh I don’t really do a lot of introducing characters right off the bat in a descriptive way often so this was new for me! Also, I have an old taglist from a while ago when I was originally going to post this, but I don’t want to randomly tag people who may no longer be interested SO if you’d like to be included on a taglist for upcoming chapters please let me know! Thank you! 

huge massive thank you to the incredible @youresogolden-h​ for editing ❤️

Chapter One: Where Happiness Begins (5.4k)

Harry and Y/N are friends…. with benefits, but not the kinds you’re thinking of.

🥥MASTERLIST 🌃INSPO TAG 🌻ASK TAG 💃PLAYLIST 🛌

There was something very different when she woke that Saturday morning. Maybe her breath smelled a little worse than normal. Maybe the sun shined a little brighter through her curtains than it was supposed to...

Maybe there was someone in her bed who didn’t belong there. 

“Oh my god.”

Friday night was not unlike every other night that week. There was an endless bag of chips she dug her Hot Cheeto dust covered fingers into and an over-watched series on Netflix open on her laptop in front of her. And when she wasn’t distracted by Sam and Dean Winchester, she was bawling her eyes out under the comfort of her thrifted quilt, staining her poor mismatched pillowcases.

Just like any given night.

And this Friday was no different. At least not until there was a knock on her door.

By the time she dried her face, it was almost completely unnoticeable she’d just been buried in hysterics only seconds ago.

“Harry’s coming over. You want anything from the store?” Will asked, the same Will who stuck them all together in the very beginning of splitting rent on an apartment four different ways.

He was the roommate who paid the most in rent and got the biggest room with his own private bathroom. One of the two roommates who constantly had his significant other over every night to make Y/N’s miserable time even worse. Between Will and Violet’s incessant need to take over the entire living room every weekend, Y/N was bound to end up in her own room alone crying her eyes out for no apparent reason.

Then there was her third roommate, James, who never bothered her because she was lucky to catch a fleeting glimpse of him every other week.

Y/N glanced at the phone he had pressed to his cheek, assuming Harry was on the other end of the line, on hold. Just the mention of his name sucked every sad little tear back into her skull. She didn’t know why, but having Harry around always seemed to do the trick.

Even though she barely spoke a word to him over the course of the last eighteen months she’d known him.

She buried her excitement about Harry coming over and frowned, answering as if she was she couldn’t care less even though... she cared way more than she should. “No.”

And before Will could protest, she shut the door in his face and retreated back to her bed.

Not every night was spent in agonizing spirals of self-pity and dread, but it came and went. Some days were fine. She was happy by the time she went to bed at night and didn’t have nightmares or anxiety that kept her up past her self-proclaimed bedtime. Most days, she ate regularly and went about her nightly routine with a genuine smile on her face. But recently, it had all gone to shit.

And there was no explanation. There never was. She didn’t just break up with a long-term boyfriend. No one called her an ugly bitch on the train home. Her boss didn’t yell at her for the umpteenth time about her inadequacies at work.

She was just... alone. Painfully and tragically alone.

She hated how black and white it was. That she was either happy to be alive or praying for a very large rock to fall on her and end it all. There was never an in-between and it made her feel like all her emotions were made up, like she wasn’t ever truly happy or she was sad over really stupid things.

It was a fucking nightmare.

Another agonizing thirty minutes went by before she heard from Will again. Before she heard more than just her roommate's voice through the thin walls. Before she could literally feel her

brain swell with more serotonin than she’d had in a long time when it was Harry’s voice she heard.

He was like an unusual ray of sunshine. Every time he was over at their apartment, it was like he was some kind of ancient sun god warding off all the evil spirits sitting on her shoulders. Which...she knew was quite strange, but she really couldn’t--nor did she want to--fight off how he made her feel.

Even if he wasn’t an internationally famous pop-sensation, she still couldn’t put her finger on why he made her feel like sunshine and butterflies whenever he was around. Which had been quite often recently on account of his upcoming album needing desperate help from Will.

Okay. She hadn’t heard a damn thing from the album, but the conversations they had about it weren’t always good. It was delayed, apparently, and Harry was in the middle of a massive writing block that led him to an impromptu trip to Barcelona the previous week.

And so now he was back. To work on the album, and, upon Y/N’s quiet arrival into the kitchen of her shared apartment, to pig out on junk food. Will hovered over the kitchen island while they figured out which movie, among a small stack of romantic comedies, to watch first.

Once Harry noticed her, he instantly stood up straight, shoving the last bit of a Kit-Kat bar into his mouth quickly to hide it from her; as if she cared about the Harry Styles munching on chocolate and sweets.

“What’re you doing?” Y/N asked Will, even though Harry was the only one paying her any attention. She didn’t often make eye contact with him, or even speak to him at all for that matter. But Harry was used to it. He was used to her mumbling and her short phrases. The way whenever he looked at her, she always looked away.

“Pretty Woman or Notting Hill?” Will turned to her finally, holding up both DVD boxes in his hands for Y/N to choose from, completely ignoring her previous question.

“Um... I’ve never seen them.”

Will rolled his eyes and placed the Blu-Ray boxes back down on the granite countertop, “Should’ve known that. You only watch scary shit.”

It was quiet after that for a moment. A long moment of Harry awkwardly glancing between Will and Y/N. Though his glances towards her did not come easily. Just the thought of looking at her was like his body went into fight or flight mode. Fight through the nerves and the butterflies in his stomach or fly the hell out of there.

She was like an unfriendly cat who didn’t seem to like him one bit, and it drove him insane. All his attempts to have a normal conversation with her had been fruitless. She never said more than one word to him at a time. Maybe two, if she was feeling generous. He didn’t get it at all, but he got used to it. Maybe she just didn’t have any room in her life for another person and certainly not for a person like him.

“Well, I vote for Pretty Woman,” Will said, making up everyone’s minds for them, and when he glanced at the other two, they didn’t seem to care. “Pretty Woman it is then. Y/N,” Will glanced at her exclusively while he began gathering snacks and the movie, “are you watching it too?”

“Uh.. no.” She continued into the kitchen, walking behind Harry toward the fridge and making every single nerve in his body light up. He had no idea why she, of all people on the planet he’d come into contact with, made him as nervous as she did. But, here he was. Stepping out of her way and swallowing the pit in his throat when he got a whiff of her all-too-familiar coconut scented shampoo.

And that scent just about made his head spin. It took him right back to the night he’d gotten drunk off his ass after a long day of work. She’d offered her bed to him since he was too tall for their couches, and she had been up late working herself anyways. Most of the night had been forgotten, but he very distinctly remembered stuffing his face into her pillowcases and letting the scent of her shampoo completely engulf his nostrils as he fell asleep. And it took him back to the following morning where he wobbled his hungover ass to the shower and accidentally (on purpose) used her coconut scented shampoo.

And then the entire rest of the day he smelled exactly like her and hadn’t gone a single minute without thinking of her. Thinking of her soft voice and what it would feel like to hear her saying his name just once. Thinking about the way she sometimes smiled at him like maybe she didn’t hate him as much as he thought. Thinking about her hair spread over her pillowcase and tucking loose strands behind her ear while she slept peacefully beside him...

Harry was also, very, very alone.

So alone that he spent more nights at other people’s homes, particularly Will’s, than his own. Even though he had an insanely expensive house all to himself up in the gated hills of Los Angeles, it was nothing compared to being surrounded by people he cared about instead of lifeless appliances.

He blamed it on the city. It always had a way of making him feel alienated. Even if it was the city that recognized him most often, it almost made him feel even more alone than he already was. Because none of the people he met along the way really knew him. They weren’t with him at the end of the day when he broke down on the floor in his bathroom. They didn’t see the dark parts of his life where he often wished he could take it all back just to be normal again. To have normal conversations and normal relationships with people he wasn’t constantly paranoid were trying to get something out of him.

So, in a way, he understood Y/N’s unwillingness to let him in, because he did it all the time. The thing he didn’t understand was why she had any reason to worry about the people in her life. No one was out to get her money or make themselves famous off of her. But there was a reason for it anyways, and it just about killed the curious cat in his mind every time he was at her apartment and she continued to not peep a single unnecessary word to him.

By the time he and Will had settled onto their respective spots in the living room, Harry tucked back into the cushions of their armchair and Will spread out on the loveseat opposite him, Y/N had already retreated back into her bedroom with her glass of ice water.

“Think that’s the most I’ve ever heard her talk.” Harry said, while Will skipped through the outdated commercials on the DVD.

Will’s lips turned up into a very knowing grin and he nodded, “She’s always been quiet, man. I told you not to take it personally.”

“How did you get her to talk?”

That was a question Harry had never asked before out of the countless stupid ones he had in the past. The stupidest was probably when he’d first met her and then proceeded to ask Will shortly after if Y/N was mute.

Will shrugged, “I’ve known her for a long time. It’s not like she goes on and on around me either though. That’s just how she is. And she probably just doesn’t like you that much.”

Harry huffed and sat back into his chair, giving up on it. He couldn’t force her to be his friend, as much as he wanted her to be.

The movie went on without Harry because he was completely lost in his own mind, however, Will seemed to be completely enthralled with Julia Roberts. Harry just couldn’t bring himself to focus on the television screen for more than a minute at a time.

It wasn’t until he heard a door down the hall click open that he brought himself back to reality and let his eyes wander to the sound behind him as Y/N stepped quietly out from her bedroom again. He knew she was the only other roommate home tonight and, yet, he still made the mistake of looking in her direction and, fucking finally, locking eyes with her. It was brief, but it was enough to stir up the enormous pot of butterflies in his stomach again.

Without a single word, she sat on the last unoccupied piece of furniture between the both of them, Harry still in a bit of shock and Will grinning with his eyes glued to the screen.

“Changed your mind, did you?” Will asked cheekily.

“Shut up,” she mumbled back at him before reaching toward the opened bag of untouched Hershey kisses. “Can I have one of these?”

Will finally peered over at her from his spot and then glanced at Harry across the coffee table, “You’ll have to ask Harry. He brought them.”

Her hand froze and she reluctantly turned her attention toward Harry, which had been the first time since he arrived that she voluntarily looked at him. She had no fucking clue how she was going to sit there and ask Harry for one of his Hershey kisses. Or if she even wanted them desperately enough.

The question went unasked, but the look on her face said more than enough. She was already waiting for his answer. And upon seeing the look on her face, Harry couldn’t possibly find it in himself to force her to say a damn thing. So he just cleared his throat instead, “Uh, it’s alright. You can have as many as you want.”

He watched as she grabbed a couple foil sealed chocolates and settled back into the corner of her own loveseat again, never willing to admit that he’d bought them especially for her. Because it had somehow managed to become common knowledge that they were her favorite candy and while wandering the local corner market, he spotted them and thought of her. His brain at the time thought there might be some minuscule possibility that if he brought one of her favorite foods over she might eventually start to like him.

Even if that didn’t happen though, he was still reeling from that one brief moment of interaction for the entire rest of the night. Splurging on an overpriced package of cavities had been well worth it.

It wasn’t until the movie ended that both Harry and Y/N realized Will was dead asleep. That he was no longer conscious enough to use the remote resting on his chest and turn the movie off. So, after a little while of staring at the credits, Y/N stood and grabbed it, flipping the controls until she brought up regular TV channels and then eventually settled for a horror movie Harry had never seen and had no intentions to. But, if it meant he got more time with Y/N, he’d sit through just about anything she wanted to watch.

And then finally, the sugar he’d consumed got to his head.

“Do you always watch scary movies before bed?” He asked, completely lost in his daydreams and not fully realizing he’d asked her a full-blown question until it was out of his mouth. Once he came to his senses, he wanted to shove every last word back into his mouth and pretend he never said anything.

That was, until a couple silent moments went by and she finally said something. “Makes the nightmares more interesting.”

He didn’t expect her to say anything at all, and so for her to say that, he had no idea how to respond to her. Was she being... sarcastic? He didn’t even know she was capable of being funny.

So he laughed, not too loudly in case she wasn’t joking. But all his worries were relieved when she glanced at him and giggled too.

He didn’t dare bring up any of the questions floating around in his mind in fear that she’d never speak another word to him ever again once he’d finally managed to break through the walls somehow. Now that he’d made groundbreaking progress with her, there was no way he was asking her why she never talked to him or why she was so quiet. So he kept a fine-tuned filter over what words came out of his mouth.

“Does that mean you have uninteresting nightmares then?” Harry really did try his damndest to think of anything to say that would get her to keep talking, because he wasn’t done listening to her voice or hearing bits of her brain spill out. He wanted to know everything about her, from her mouth only, but he also didn’t want to get too ahead of himself.

“Only on Sundays.”

“Why Sundays?” He asked through a muffled laugh, curious as to what she was on about.

“Because then the nightmares are about showing up at work naked on Monday morning... and that’s not very interesting.”

He couldn’t help the widespread grin on his face, or the way his eyebrows furrowed at how fucking weird she actually was. And she wasn’t even that weird. She was kind of normal, but this entire time he thought she wasn’t like him at all, so seeing her say things like a normal person was... weird.

“So what kind of nightmares does watching Annabelle at...” Harry checked his watch, and went into momentary shock at the time, but also couldn’t care less because he wasn’t leaving now, “two in the morning get you?”

She smiled, and refusing to look at him, settled for planting her eyes on the television instead. “Walking into work naked on Monday morning but,” she held up a finger in anticipation and Harry smiled wider, “all my coworkers are creepy dolls.”

“Guess at that point it doesn't matter if you’re naked then.”

She thought about for a moment before giggling at what he said, “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

There was silence between them again, but it was different this time. It was peaceful. It wasn’t full of awkward tension and things Harry wished she would say. It felt like two friends hanging out and enjoying each other’s company.

“Are you sleeping here or...” She finally asked him and he wasn’t sure if that was her way of asking him to leave or not. But something about it made him feel like she was building her walls back up again.

“Oh, uh... if that’s okay. Think I’m too tired to drive.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I just wanted to know because I can sleep in Violet’s room and you can have my bed like before. If you want.”

“Oh, um, are you sure?” Under any other circumstances, he would have said no, that the short, uncomfortable couch would be fine. That he would get over the pain in his legs and back in the morning because he didn’t want to invade her space, again. Unfortunately for him, he already had the knowledge of what her pillows smelled like and how soft her sheets were and he desperately wanted to invade her space again.

She nodded. “It’s no problem. I’ll go clean up a little. Just let yourself in.”

She was gone before he could get another word out. And while he listened to her footsteps as she walked away from him, he stared blankly up at the ceiling, resting his neck back on the chair. It felt like he’d just been through a fever dream, like none of it was real. Not only did he have a normal conversation with her, but now she was offering her bed to him again as well.

He needed a moment to process things.

When she got done tidying up her room and replacing her blanket with a clean one for Harry, he appeared cautiously in the doorway, yawning as he watched her gather some of her things to take to Violet’s room directly across the hall.

“I turned the TV off and the lights. Will’s still quite dead out there.”

She smiled to herself and gave him a very fleeting glance before picking the last item she needed up off her side table and then finally facing him. “It’s all yours.”

Ushering him in, he stepped into her room like he wasn’t actually allowed to. Like he had never been there before. Like he hadn’t nearly puked all over her poor white bed sheets that one night.

She replaced his spot in the doorway as he sat down on the edge of her bed. He stared at her back as she walked away, not getting his hopes up about her saying anything else to him. So, when she did turn to face him again, it just about knocked the air out of him.

“Oh and Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you try to not drool on my pillows this time?”

He glanced at the top of her bed where all her pillows were neatly stacked and cringed at the horrible memories he had and at the fact that he’d actually drooled on her pillows. Like a fucking animal. Like a dog who couldn’t control himself.

“Sorry ‘bout that...” He looked at her again, genuinely apologetic and completely embarrassed by his past, drunken self.

“It’s okay.” She smiled reassuringly, “Night.”

“G’night.” Harry mumbled just before she left and closed the door behind her.

And in all the talk about drool, it wasn’t until he was cuddled under her blanket and up against her mound of pillows that he realized something. She’d said his name, out loud, to his face, where he could hear it and obsess over it and never get sick of it. He repeated it over and over in his head and kept himself awake just thinking about the way it had sounded and if he’d ever get to hear her say his name again.

The faint hum of voices right outside the door woke him slightly. His entire body was still asleep except for about half of his brain and one eye that peeked open to investigate the noise. He could tell it was early, though, his eyes stung and his body ached to go fully back to sleep.

He could make out Violet’s voice, which confused his foggy brain because he swore Will had mentioned she’d be gone all weekend, and yet here she was yelling in the hallway and interrupting his sleep.

“Please just sleep on the couch then, I need to be alone right now.” Harry furrowed his eyebrows at how distressed she sounded and flinched when the door across the hall just about slammed shut.

He heard an exasperated sigh and then squeezed his eyes shut when he saw movement under the door to Y/N’s bedroom just moments before it opened. He pretended to be asleep for as long as he could, listening to the footsteps as they carefully wandered into the room.

And then a hushed, but very exclamatory, “Ow!” got him to roll onto his back and knuckle his eyes open.

She looked at him apologetically while grasping the big toe of her right foot. “Sorry.”

“S’okay.” His voice was a lot groggier and a lot more raspy than she expected it to be. And she kind of hated herself for enjoying the view, a little too much, of Harry waking up in her bed. While she got her thoughts under control, he continued. “Did Violet just kick you out?”

She simply nodded and went back to digging into her cabinets for spare pillows.

“What time is it?” He asked.

“Four-thirty.”

Then he slowly pulled her blanket off, still dressed in his shirt and joggers from last night but without his socks and rings he’d removed before bed.

She immediately turned to him, however. “You don’t have to get up. I’m fine on the couch.” “No, I would feel bad.”

“It’s okay, really. Don’t worry about it.” She got him to stop what he was doing and lay back into the bed again while she opened up more cabinet doors to find her extra bed sets.

He cleared his throat after a little while of watching her, and gathered up the largest bundle of courage he ever had, to say what he was about to say next. With nervous, shaking fingers and a cold sweat on the back of his neck, he voiced the stupidest idea he’d ever had in his life.

“We can just both sleep here... if that’s fine.”

She froze and he knew he’d made a mistake. Why in the actual fuck did he just suggest that? Maybe he was sleep deprived. Maybe he was still reeling from last night. Maybe he had some false sense of security with her and completely forgot about the fact that last night had been the first time she’d said that many words to him. Of course she wasn’t about to climb in bed with him.

“Oh, um...” She finally found a couple pillows and pulled them from the cabinet while turning her attention back to Harry. She could not deny how desperately she wanted to crawl back into her own bed. And have a warm body next to her, which she had literally never had. No one had ever slept in her bed besides Harry, and definitely not with her. Sure, she’d slept in friends’ beds before on occasion, but this was different. It was her own bed and this was Harry, not her college friends.

So maybe it was the sleep-deprivation talking. 

“Okay.”

In all forms but physical, his jaw had just hit the floor. Never in a million years or in any other infinite alternate realities would he have thought they’d end up here, with Harry sliding over to one side of the bed to make room for her while she crawled in beside him. Her queen size gave lots of room in between them, so it wasn’t as weird as it sounded. It was just two, very tired loose-knit friends sharing a bed for a few hours.

“Goodnight, again.” Harry mumbled, realizing too late that it was technically morning now.

“Mhm,” was the only response he got out of her when she curled up under the blanket they shared and went straight back to sleep with her back to him.

And once his nerves settled, he did the same.

It was a lot easier than either of them thought possible. And for a long while, they stayed on their respective sides of the bed. But once she was lost in dreamland and he was already letting out soft snores, there was no control over what happened next. She turned and cuddled right up to his side as if her unconscious mind thought he was some kind of pillow to cradle. She wasn’t all to blame, though, as his arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her even closer. Closer than either of them had been to another living being in a long time. As close as her forearm spread across his chest and her head nestled into his neck. Close enough to smell his cologne but not realize why or stop any of it from happening. Not that she would have wanted to if she had any clue what she was doing. Not that he would have wanted to either.

With his hand digging into her waist, they both were mildly aware of what was going on, but both were also still too lost in their exhaustion. So, it just happened. And they held each other tighter as the minutes passed and the dreams took over once again. Because they both needed it. To hold and to be held. To feel the pressure of another person and the heartbeat on their skin. And all the loneliness in their bones melting away with each other’s touch as if they’d never been alone in the first place.

The only thing that could ever separate them was the knock on her door at nine a.m. Everything was a little fuzzy at first before she blinked a few times and realized that what she’d been using as a pillow wasn’t exactly stuffed with cotton and lined in silk. With a gasp, she pulled away from him abruptly. Ceasing all contact. Not because she wanted to necessarily, but because she would rather Harry not find out she was all over him like she had just been.

“Oh my god,” she whispered quietly in disbelief, mentally punching herself in the face for what she’d just woken up to.

But her embarrassment only skyrocketed when she dragged her eyes up his neck to his chin, then his nose and finally saw him staring right back at her with furrowed brows like he was just as confused as she was. When he glanced at the door is when she moved to do something about it.

Quickly, she pulled the covers off of herself and opened her door only the smallest amount possible. Just enough to peak her head out, but not enough for Will to see Harry in her bed. Where she’d just been sleeping right next to him. Or... right on top of him, as it seemed.

“Did Harry go home last night?”

With absolutely no plan to go along with her lie, she still figured it was the better option than to admit to Will she’d been in the same bed as Harry. That she’d been all fucking over him for who knows how long.

“Um, yeah. After you fell asleep.”

From behind her, Harry quietly smacked his hands over his face and fell back dramatically into her fluffy pillows.

“Oh, ok. Vi won’t come out of her room, but I’m going to go get breakfast from Jade’s. You want anything?”

“No, I’m alright, thanks.” Her words fused together in a flash, just trying to get the least amount of information out as quickly as possible so she didn't accidentally say something suspicious.

She shut the door on him with a smile before Will could even offer her a pastry from their most loved local cafe. Once that was dealt with, and she had a moment to gather her thoughts as she stared at her door, she slowly turned around to face Harry.

Her cheeks were probably bright red and full of embarrassment seeing him there amongst her sheets; as if once she had turned around he wouldn’t actually be there, like maybe she’d dreamt the whole thing.

But no.

He was there. And he was very real. And very much looking at her like they were both insane.

“I’m sorry,” they said it at the exact same time, cutting each other off from saying anything else.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, um...” Harry started once he found an opportunity to speak again, but he didn’t exactly know what he was apologizing for. He wasn’t sorry for how they’d ended up. He had the best four and a half hours of sleep he’d ever had.

“I shouldn’t have been like... all on you like that.” She averted her eyes when she spoke, not able to look him straight on and admit it. And she knew she was only apologizing because she felt embarrassed and like she had to. She felt like she’d invaded Harry’s space and took advantage of him.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

She just shrugged. Nothing he said at this point could make her feel any less horrible about it. And even so, some part deep down inside of her, when she finally looked at him again, wanted to get right back into that spot with him for another few hours.

It just felt... right. And even though she couldn’t remember what she dreamed about, she knew it wasn’t her usual nightmare. She had felt safe and secure, and not so alone anymore, sleeping beside him like that and she felt stupid knowing it would never happen again.

“I should get going then. Before Will comes back and realizes I didn’t actually leave.” Harry let out an exasperated laugh as he began getting up, sitting himself on the edge of her bed with his back facing her as he stretched. The fabric of his shirt tugged along his muscles as he flexed them awake, and she grew far too overwhelmed thinking about the fact that those fucking arms of his had been around her for the better half of the morning. She could still feel him holding onto her and his grip at her side.

She needed a very cold shower and some fresh air.

[mittensmorgul]

okay so rewatching 15.13, and the usual that I’ve probably said before, but like... everything with AU!John being the best guy who was still alive and “spoiled” his sons with private label scotch and their hunting empire and private jet and everything. And not even a mention of Mary, who... ??? in that world.

(and yes, I know this is Bucklemming, and therefore hand-waveable, but like... it’s still canon and still a dangling thread of wtf that kind of needs addressing, and I can’t stop thinking about this post by @hazeldomain https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/639861646083473408 explaining the wtf of the finale by putting the altchesters in the bunker while the actual TFW was off having a beach vacation, because they are the ones who make sense dying in this finale far more than our TFW, and you know what? it makes sense... at least, it makes more sense than what aired.)

We knew things in that world were different, and now know that the Altchesters didn’t have a Castiel of their own. I’d argued when the ep came out that it didn’t even seem likely that those spoiled soft boys probably never made a deal for each other’s lives, never went to Hell, never really faced any sort of real adversity. And yet, having JUST lost their father they’re... oddly unmoved by it. Their entire world, everyone they would’ve cared for there... and they’re complaining about their clothes and the fact Sam told Alt!Sam to ditch the man bun. Like.

Those Winchesters had a lot of the material comfort of a “normal life,” while still getting to hunt corporate-style. But they don’t really understand how to survive. They’ve never known what it was like to not have a home. I mean, they didn’t even have a bunker in their world (no MoL in that world then? maybe?). They never had to struggle for anything or want for anything. They had trust funds, ffs.

But in this world, the original Winchesters did have to fight for everything. They did face down Heaven and Hell, angels and demons, and God himself. They have lived ENTIRELY different lives, and I’m half wondering if Chuck didn’t send those particular Winchesters directly to our Sam and Dean for laughs. Like...

Chuck had already told them that every other Sam and Dean in every other universe eventually gave in to satisfy his story. In every other universe, one or the other or both of them went bad. One or the other of them had to die. And yet, these two show up and there’s zero evidence of any of that sort of meddling in their lives. These two lived pretty comfy lives of privilege and plenty, everything handed to them without having to fight anything other than the occasional monster they jetted around the world to hunt. They were effectively the BMoL of their world, and I bet they’ll find themselves equally unable to live up to the reality of wearing the faces of the most recognized hunters in *this* world for long.

Then there’s their essential personalities. A Sam without the lifelong burden of feeling like something was wrong with him, who’d been fed demon blood as a baby and always believed he was somehow tainted, and terrified he might be something less than human. That Sam never struggled with impurity or the fear that he could go darkside or give in to Lucifer. He never struggled with where he belonged in the world-- he didn’t have to run away from hunting and his family to seek any sort of “normalcy.” It wasn’t a conflict he ever had to face. That Sam never suffered the losses-- but also not the victories-- of our Sam.

That Sam didn’t have an Eileen, either. Or a connection to anyone else in this universe.

That Dean, though, didn’t have what our Dean has, either. It seemed like given the chance, he’d want it for himself, but it took our Dean 40 years of living and another 40 suffering in Hell to become that, though, and I’m not sure Fiat McGee had that sort of investment in doing much more than cosplaying our Dean with the trappings he found most intriguing. But the primary thing that Dean lacked was everything Cas included in his confession to Dean in 15.18. That Dean, in other words, was not entirely made of love. He hadn’t sacrificed himself over and over to save what he loved, out of love. He may have appreciated the comfort of a good flannel, but he was nothing more than surface-level Dean-coded, you know? What was truly important to our Dean, this guy was basically cosplaying for kicks.

Which is weirdly how Dean in 15.20 felt to me. Like a shell of the Dean I’d watched for the last 15 years.

And of course, we have to mention “the car” again, the one the altchesters supposedly took out for a drive... we all agree there’s no way on earth they were actually referring to Baby, right? Because DEAN was driving Baby the entire time the altchesters were in the bunker, left alone to explore the place. Like... Baby wasn’t even on the premises, so what car did they actually drive? What car in the bunker’s garage did they think had some sort of special status? And why did Our Dean seemingly assume they were referring to Baby, when he literally had possession of the Impala the entire time?

I know that’s not specifically relevant to the finale, but the hollowness of these alternate Winchesters theoretically still living in the OG universe is incredibly galling to me if the finale was actually a true accounting of events for our TFW. I can’t countenance a universe where these flimsy replicas without any of the things that made Sam and Dean who they are surviving when the real versions we’ve spent 15 years loving, crying for, and hoping for got exactly nothing of what they’d fought for and finally won.