#the whole picture of all the angels falling from heaven and the alarms and lights in the bunker going off? thats so killer

[heckolve]

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[azurexsnake]

Haitani Ran x GN!Reader

TW: Dom!Reader. GN!Reader (reader uses a strap but no pronouns or genital descriptors otherwise). Alcohol. Drugs (weed). Pegging. Violent sex. Minor Impact Play (Spanking). Very Light Choking (M Receiving). Not proofread.

Talks with Mica got me again…

20+ Content. 19 and Under DNI.

If anyone pressed you for the details of how you wound up in the bed of a Tokyo baddie, you’re not sure you’d be able to provide them. And not just for the sake of confidentiality. It’s more that you can’t be too sure yourself.

You know one drink became two, and then an offer to bring you home- the hour late and streets suspect. You remember accepting, the walk, the train ride, the joints passed back and forth between you in the comfort of your livingroom. But precisely how you managed to fall into bed with Haitani Ran eludes you. And you can’t be fucked to figure it out when all that truly matters is fucking the brat out of him.

He curses again when you get the angle just right, arms bent and palms scrabbling against the sheets for a tether. A something to make his eyes uncross; that he can pour his frenetic buzz into. And that ‘something’ becomes your thighs, his nails digging into the sensitive underneath of your flesh. Again, it’s not something you can find it in yourself to be bothered by when his hair lays in every direction thanks to your handling and his fight, curtaining wild eyes and parted lips as he looks back at you like he could kill you if you weren’t fucking his ass within an inch of his sanity.

Your hold on his inked back tightens, his arch forced deeper, and he moans like the heavens aren’t listening.

“You paint a real pretty picture, you know that, Ran?” For all your effort, your words fight against exertion- a testament to how furiously you drive your silicone cock into his only too accepting body. His own heavy erection smacks against the smoothed chisel of his stomach where every impact buries him lower within the depths of mindless pleasure. But that depth is Ran’s playground. The freedom he knows there is endless and suddenly he’s fighting to push himself up by his arms; an attempt you immediately squash with a hand and weight at the back of his neck.

You almost have to stop and wonder if that’s what he wanted in the first place with how his eyes roll back at the leveraged strength behind your thrusts, jolts sent through his system with every slap of your hips to his ass.

“Don’t cum so soon, brat. Don’t even deserve it f’r giving me sucha hard time.” And because he wants to remind you he still can, he throws his hips back and you off-kilter. Just to make sure you know even though it earns him a stringing slap to the already cherry curve of his ass. “You just don’t fucking quit.”

“N-ahh!” he tries, and fails when you tear the breath out of him back by the roots of his silken hair. “Never will. Get used to it, angel.”

“Only thing I’m gonna get used to,” you sneer, winding your hand from hair to throat, fingers pressing into the hollows within his human structure, “is hearing you scream my name like I own you.”

His breath puffs heavy from inside his chest, punctuated by noises you can feel him make beneath your unrelenting grasp, and a need takes hold. Not just hear, but to see him when he wails. Eat up the sight of him when his cum arcs over the half-of-a-whole that denotes his most trusted.

It’s almost cute to hear his alarmed whimper when you pull out, a fear he really won’t get what he wants, until you flip him violently on his back and settle imposing between his thighs even as you push them back ‘til his tailbone lifts from the mussed bedding. And for as much as you’d hate to tell him in this moment, you can’t help but think he’s beautiful between the shallow crests and dips of his chest. The strands of his hair that stick to his drool-coated lips. The wide-eyed anticipation he stares at you with, daring you to move. Or don’t. Deny him. Or want him any worse than you already do.

Maybe you simply fell into his trap.

When the bait was one of the most virile and violently attractive men in the city, who could blame you?

“Fuck me.”

Truly, the fault is all his and the only recourse is to, yes, fuck him.

Fuck him like it’s punishment for being so tempting. For laying the pitfall of him for you to tumble into. Into deepest reaches and darkest depths. Of him. Of you. An eye for an eye. One hole traded for another and you plunge back into him with eyes locked together and wars waging between you. And his hands at the sides of your face to keep you focused solely on him. Only him and his wildfire violet.

[falling-pages]

Far away from you: Tamaki x Reader

Ok ok ok, taking a break from the aesthetic board requests to drop a lil something for y'all (aka, me, because this is 100 percent self indulgent). Been thinking a lot about long-distance Tamaki lately. He's such a sweet boy 🥺

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Synopsis: Tamaki has to return to Japan for the summer, leaving his SO behind in America.

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Tamaki Suoh x gn!Reader (heavily implied female)

Genre: Fluff, a little bit of sad

Warnings: None

-

As extroverted and excitable as Tamaki was, there truly was nothing he loved more than cuddling with you in bed on a sleepy Sunday morning.

Your bed was warm, the sheets soft and clean, and they smelled like you. Well, everything smelled like you, when your face was buried in his neck and his face pressed into your hair. That was soft, too, and it smelled so sweet. Like fresh fruit and honey. A little tangled, slightly damp from last night’s shower.

He turned to look down at you resting peacefully. Still unaware of the world, the chirping birds having not disturbed your slumber. Those lips he adored were slightly open, a gentle breath sighing in and out, cool against the skin of his neck. Your eyes moved beneath their lids; you were dreaming, experiencing a life within a life.

He hoped you were dreaming of him.

Some trashy reality show played in the background, the evidence of your trying to get up, but you found his chest too inviting and his arms too safe to leave. So you fell back asleep with him, enjoying the sweet uninterrupted time. Heaven knows the next time you’d be able to cuddle like this.

The clock was ticking, and soon he had to be far, far away from you.

As much as Tamaki wanted to fall back asleep with you, he knew his time was limited. The clock on your nightstand flashed angry red numbers, the only thing of heat in your pristine pastel room. The digital face clicked on and on, mercilessly reminding him of your impending separation, counting down the seconds until he would have to get up and leave you in your bed. Sure, he could miss his flight, but it was inevitable; he was a Suoh, and he had duties--most of them back in Japan.

Going to school in America had been the best decision of his life--he met you--but it made going back home each summer that much harder.

He allowed his thoughts to turn to next year, when you both graduated. You could go to Japan with him then, and you'd never have to say goodbye again.

You had discussed going to Japan with him for every break, but you desperately missed your family, and he would never stand to see you homesick. So the two of you cried, talked, and cried some more as your love booked his single ticket online. You had cried such pretty tears for him the night before, as you spent one last night together cooking a meal, washing dishes, and getting ready for bed. He didn’t think he could stand it, but having you there in his arms for just the time being was worth every clench in his aching heart.

Half-hour. That was all that's left until he had to get up. Thirty minutes until he left you and the continent behind.

Of course you would video chat, though the time difference would be hard. And he requested that you write letters too, so he could have a physical piece of you other than a scrunchie and keychain. To have your handwriting, to smother himself in the paper doused in your perfume, to see the care you took into writing each careful word. To kiss the blurry ink stains and watermarks, evidence of your tears. Evidence of how much you cared for him. He was a romantic, like that.

You suddenly shifted, moaning lowly. Your fists curled tightly into his chest, holding him fast by the shirt. He chuckled as he kissed your head, then your scrunched-up nose. Even in your sleep trying to convince him to stay.

As the soft light streamed through your curtain, it crossed over your head to make a halo. He couldn’t look at you hard enough, although he had already memorized every detail, he wished he could wash his eyes and look at you anew. You were beautiful, so sweet, and his, his little angel. Did you have wings buried beneath his shirt you wore?

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, lighting up the picture of you with the alarm. He sighed as the clock ticked into place, reluctant to let go of you to shut it off. But with you laying on top of him, he could reach it, grabbing the phone and turning the alarm off. He didn’t want you to wake while he was still there. You two had cried enough the night before, and he knew for a fact that if you accompanied him to the airport and looked at him like that, he would not get on the plane. It was better for you both if you stayed asleep, so he could grieve and you could keep dreaming of him.

That way, you wouldn’t actually have to say goodbye.

He slowly eased you off him, wincing at the whine that left your lips at the lack of warmth. He tugged off the shirt you so desperately clung to and left it in your arms, smiling when you immediately cuddled it. You were such a cute thing, laying against the mattress and sleeping softly. His own special fleur, pressed into the pages of the most beautiful book, preserved for him to keep and read for the rest of time.

As he slowly gathered his things, treading lightly lest you wake. His hands shook with dread as he packed up his final things, stowing away a few of your trinkets--a hair tie, clips, a plushie--in his bag. He found your pink pastel sweatshirt, the one you wore when you first met. Tears bubbled at his lashline, and, in an honest trade for his two shirts, added it to the collection.

Finally, it was time. His legs felt like jelly as they carried him towards you, a hammer pummeling his aching heart. Mon Dieu, how he didn’t want to leave you. He would have given up his whole family fortune to never say goodbye to you again. But there was a world outside the two of you, even though you were the sun of which he revolved around.

He bent to place a chaste kiss on your lips. Even as his body longed for more, he restrained himself, focusing on the way your breath melted against his, how your body responded so sweetly with the whimper. Remembering the imprint of yours against his, how you tasted, how you felt. He rested his palm against the pink flush of your cheek. Then he kissed your forehead, bade you a wonderful summer, and walked out the door.

One last kiss for his little fleur.

He whispered a prayer as he descended the stairs: May you not be so heartbroken when you wake.

-

[neoheros]

how would haikyuu boys handle spending the night together? feat. kuroo tetsuro, akaashi keiji, tsukishima kei

kuroo tetsuro

the first time you and kuroo spent the night together was a wednesday evening when you didn’t even plan on staying over

his parents left town for the day and it was a better time than any other to have you spend the afternoon

you were still both in your uniforms and with the school day you just had, it was safe to say that you deserved to lay on top of him on the couch while your hands are in his hair

you were tired from school and he was tired from practice

you barely even spoke to each other that afternoon, all you remember was him offering to take a nap with you in his bed and you being too sleepy to decline

you changed into one of his sweatshirts and a pair of shorts and when he saw you he just 🥺

kuroo: are we really that tired tho 👉👈

you, blinking: yes

the nap was so deep and peaceful that the only reason you woke up from it was because of the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway

that’s when you realize that you’ve actually spent the night and the bright light that’s been annoying your eyes for the past 2 minutes was the sun rising

you shift from your place but kuroo’s right grip on your waist only worsened as he pulled you closer to his chest

“stop moving so much,” he mumbles groggily, refusing to open his eyes as he snuggles against your shoulder blade

you panic, “kuroo we’re gonna be late,”

he takes a while to respond but you feel him nod softly against your skin, “we can skip first period,”

then you hear the front door open, your heart racing because kuroo clearly doesn’t have any plans on getting up soon

you try your best to push him away from you but the more you do the more his tightening his grip, too tired to open his eyes

you, panicking: if you don’t wake up now i’m breaking up with you

kuroo, mumbling: hmm we’ll get back together it’s okay

he’s pressing quick kisses against your shoulder and you almost swoon over the infatuated look he had on

“we should do this more often,” kuroo says, his voice quiet and you’re debating with yourself if he’s choosing not to hear his parents downstairs

you shift, “i know, i like this too, but your parents are home and i don’t want their first impression of me to be like this,”

he finally opens his eyes and lets go of the grip he had on you, you jump out of bed, hearing the footsteps from the stairs

“tetsu, are you awake yet?” his mom’s voice blared as she knocked on his door

you wanted to laugh as the panic set on your boyfriend’s face but you found yourself frozen still when you realize that this meant trouble if she found you in there

“kuroo, i swear to god, i will not let this be the first time your mom meets me,” you tell him in a hushed tone, quickly picking up your clothes

“yup!” he shouts back, and the first thing he could do when the doorknob twisted was shove you in his open closet

you yelp at the suddenness but you held the door closed as your pressed against his clothes in extreme tightness

“you’ll be late,” his mom says, entering his room

kuroo nods, “i’m actually skipping first period, my head hurts,”

there’s sweat on his forehead and his mom crosses her arms with a look

“fine,” she says, sighing, “your dad and i are going grocery shopping this morning so make sure to lock up before you go back to bed.”

kuroo lets out a breath of relief, walking his mom out the door and he shuffles to lock it before opening the closet to a rather agitated you

kuroo: i mean hey at least now we can have the morning in peace 😌

you, throwing a pillow at him: i hate you

kuroo, pulling you back in bed: hmm we’ll drive by starbucks before heading to school

you: i hate you less

tsukishima kei

first of all, sleeping with him is one thing and waking up next to him is another

he’s so stiff and on guard the whole time that you’d think he’s physically repulsed by the idea of you being beside him all night

you: i can take the floor, it’s really not a big deal

tsukki: are you kidding i’m not letting you sleep on the floor

you: wait aw 🥺

tsukki: at least take the couch

you can tell he’s anxious with the whole thing and you curse yourself for thinking it was a good enough time for the both of you to have a sleepover

but he’s just been away a lot from all the volleyball tournaments and it’s been so long since the two of you hung out that when he asked if you wanted to stay over you couldn’t say no

so now you’re left awkwardly sitting on his bed at 11 pm after the two of you finished a movie with nothing else to do

he eyes you down, you’re wearing one of his shirts which were obviously too big and a pair of sweats that you brought along

he glances at his watch, a faint pink on his face as he avoids your gaze

you: wait are you shy like are you actually

tsukki: hey remember when you offered to sleep on the floor

the two of you decide to just let tiredness take over you when you feel like it so you spend the next two hours in each other’s arms as you both scroll through tiktok

his nerves have calm down but you still feel the faint racing of his heart when you laugh from a video you see

you, internally: 🥺👉👈

but then you realize that hours have passed and neither of you are still tired enough to seriously lay down next to each other and try to sleep

tsukishima: do you want to go out for a drive?

you: it’s 3 am

tsukishima: ?

you: i like the way you think

AND ITS JUST SO !! FRICKEN !! ADORABLE !!!

he hands you an extra hoodie of his because it’s cold outside and he absolutely refuses to drive unless you put your seatbelt on

so it’s 3 am and the two of you are at a starbucks drivethru ordering too much caffeine for people who’re trying to fall asleep

you both end up chilling in their parking lot all morning just scrolling through twitter or tiktok and sometimes you’d feel him glance up at you from his phone but you decide not to mention it

you: why don’t we spend time like this more often

tsukishima: i honestly think you’ll find me boring if we hang out for more than an hour :/

you, soft: it actually takes less than an hour 🥺

before the two of you realize it you’ve fallen asleep in his car at a starbucks with the windows down and the 1975 blaring in the radio

you wake up first from the sunlight and you won’t deny the way your heart skipped a beat when you noticed how tsukki took off his hoodie to put on your thighs

you take off his glasses from his face, giving him a quick peck on the forehead before making sure he was comfortable and warm in his seat

he must’ve been tired and you really hope that you didn’t wake him up when you left the car to order more coffee for the both of you

akaashi keiji

THIS BOY IS AN ANGEL

he’s asleep by 10 pm and he’ll wake up at 8 just like he’s used to because he’s the most perfect boy in the world with the most perfect sleep schedule

you know of this fact and it bugs you cause sometimes you just really wanna facetime him at 3 am or reference him tiktoks that you found funny that day

so when he offered you a chance to stay over you were kinda on the rocks about it

you: yknow i sleep at 4 am right

akaashi: ... by choice?

you: at this point my body just shuts down when it wants to

akaashi, alarmed: oh

regardless of this fact, you could never turn down akaashi, it was like hard wired in your brain to never ever decline him and can you really blame yourself he’s 🥺

he insisted to stay up with you instead of you trying to fall asleep next to him at 9 pm but you just couldn’t put him through that

you put down your phone and even if it did feel odd to close your eyes without the sun rising, the sudden embrace by your boyfriend immediately made you forget about everything else

sleeping next to akaashi is utter heaven

he’s got his hand over your waist and his scent just envelops you in a non overpowering way

his fingers trail under your shirt and you shiver at how gentle they are

akaashi, under his breath: thank you for doing this

you, ready to risk it all: due to personal reasons i will be passing away ❤️

he places a quick kiss on your forehead before letting go of you and turning to his side

you felt like asking him back to you but you knew how tired he must’ve been so you don’t budge

you’re left staring at his room’s ceiling and you don’t know how long you did that but the next time you checked your phone it was already 1 am in the morning

you, internally: it’s like a talent omfg

aside from the fact that you’re close to tears as you think about how you stared at a ceiling for 3 hours straight because you didn’t want to go to sleep that much you stop fighting the inevitable

you prop yourself up on his headboard, careful not to wake him up beside you and start to go through what you usually do most nights

you’re so caught up on the tiktoks that you barely notice akaashi stirring from beside you before pulling the comforter over his head

he’s awake at this point and the silly grin on his face can’t be fought as he looks at you so indebted in what you watched

he leans against your shoulder, tired eyes and all whilst stifling back a yawn

you, sleepy: sorry for waking you

akaashi, just as sleepy: that’s ok, i like this better

the two of you spend the rest of the morning against each other on his headboard as you scroll through the contents of your phone

once akaashi realizes that you’ve fallen asleep, he gently pushes you back down on the pillows and your hands immediately make their way to embrace him

he will 100% take pictures before getting himself comfortable next to you, a soft smile on his face as he snuggles against your neck

akaashi, turning off his alarms: we can sleep in tomorrow

[toragi]

My analysis on Joji's 'Gimme Love,' 'Run,' and 'Sanctuary'

This is going to be a long one folks so prepare yourselves.

Here's my two cents on the supposed lore we've been given.

Theory 1:

In 'Gimme Love,' we're shown scientist Joji--who presents his findings while sharing bits and pieces of his life with us. We're shown his coworkers, his workplace, the frustrations, the technology being built and the potential relationship he builds with someone (as seen through the wedding cake, ring, and picture on his desk). However, the longer the song goes on, we're starting to be shown images of blood. First, a few droplets on the hands, then a few on the face. Eventually, the images of the blood are proceeded by hospitalizations all the while, Joji is climbing the ranks at his job. The last images we get before the transition are bloody hands, which could imply that someone was caught, "red-handed" or that Joji has other people's "blood on their [his] hands," implying something more sinister was at play with the research he was doing.

During the second half of the song, we can see Joji has locked out his crew and boards the rocket by himself. The repetition of the chorus in the song overall, "gimme, gimme love when I'm gone," becomes even more important in this scene. He's planning on leaving, by himself, and he's not having anyone tag along. While he may have flipped off those on the ground, it can be seen as self-sacrificial. He climbed the work ranks but at what cost? At seeing all of his coworkers injured or perish from whatever they were researching? Potentially even seeing the SO injured or dead?

The lyrics could easily mean shower him in love and praise when he's gone or giving love to all who died or suffered throughout the video. It also makes the ending lyric much more impactful--"everyone's looking for someone to hold but I can't let you go," To all those he lost, and even potentially the SO, it's going to be hard for him to let them go. He has no one to anchor him, all those who he cared about were just looking for someone to hold (for arguments sake, presumably, Joji) and now he's haunted by the memory of their suffering, ('I can't let you go,').

As the video ends, we can see a panel that says, "Eject," or "Engage," which can be interpreted as, 'Eject'' --> Run route and 'Engage' --> Sanctuary route.

(I'd like to note that at this point, I've created two separate theories from the proceeding argument laid out above. The first theory speaks of each song as a 'route' whereas the second theory talks about all three songs in connection with one another, one following another).

--

Sub Theory 1:

'Eject' --> Run

Throughout the video, we see Joji running through what seems like an endless limousine with many people throwing a party. He's constantly trying to get away from them all and wants no part with them. These can be seen as those who congratulated him when he was climbing the ranks in the 'Gimme Love' video. As everything is spiraling, Joji is exhausted and growing tired of it all, wanting to just run away. (The shots where he's seemingly blending into the ground give this insight). Towards the end, he finally breaks free and runs. However, we see him in a spaceship with a robotic voice saying, "Wake up,"

Perhaps it was all a nightmare that he was reliving, which is why the limousine seemed to be endless. The alarm was the only thing that woke him up. The picture of the car he had is reminiscent of simpler times.

Although the lyrics seem to be directed at someone, what if it's a self reflection to the agency or coworkers that he worked with? Of the work that he did and the lives he put at risk? The first verse,

"I fell for your magic/I tasted your skin/And though this is tragic/at least I found the end/I  witnessed your madness/you shed light on my sins/And if we share in this sadness, then where have you been?"

Could be a reference to the 'thing' that made everyone suffer/bleed in the Gimme Love video. The success of finding and discovering it but at what cost?

Which then segue ways into the chorus,

"You bathe in your victory/you blew out on my fuse/and if I took on the planet/Will I pay my dues?/your love was a mystery/yeah, my love is a fool/and I travel the country just to get to you"

The lyric, "and if I took on the planet, will I pay my dues?" could mean that he feels awful about what happened. Perhaps if he took it upon himself to venture out into space rather than having his entire crew, he could stop having more people suffer. He was tricked by the discovery, "your love was a mystery," and in chasing it--"yeah, my love is a fool"--he caused others to be hurt.

The chorus could be interpreted to mean that he's stuck with the misery of knowing all that he knows. He knows he fucked up but he doesn't know how to handle any of it so he just decides to 'run.'

--

'Engage' --> Sanctuary

In Sanctuary, we see a lonely Joji. We do see a villain but as the video goes on, the villain originally turned out to be his friend. It's possible that at one point, Joji gained a new crew. However, still at loss from what happened on Earth, he chooses not to interact with them. This crew member aches for Joji to return to interacting with them but to no avail. He eventually goes on the rampage and turns evil and Joji soon realizes what has happened.

In the chorus, he talks about falling in love and heaven. He says, "If you’ve been waitin' for fallin' in love/Babe, you don’t have to wait on me/'Cause I've been aimin' for Heaven above/But an angel ain't what I need" which could imply to not wait on him for love or a relationship--he's tried and done with that. He's just aiming to get to Heaven and be forgiven hopefully ('but an angel ain't what I need').

Verse 2 and the bridge of the song compliment each other;

"Not anyone, you're the one/More than fun, you're the sanctuary/'Cause what you want is what I want/Sincerity" and "Pull me oh so close/'Cause you never know/Just how long our lives will be," just further reinforce how much he wants to be done with it all. All he seeks is sincerity, clarity, and forgiveness since he doesn't know how long a life can last.

--

Sub theory 2:

Gimme Love is Joji's life on Earth but after discovering something vile in the workplace as he climbed the ranks, he took it upon himself to venture out into space alone to not have anyone else suffer.

Run is a nightmare that Joji was suffering. We can see him still be alone and without a crew but still longing for the days in where he had the people he cared about around. He wants to run away from all the problems and misery that follow him due to working on his discovery and all of the pain that it caused him. The robotic voice saying, "Wake up," could be a literal wake up call from his nightmare or serve as a reminder to 'wake up,' and to never let himself stray that far out again.

In Sanctuary, he has finally acquired a crew but he's still lonely. He finally managed to get close to someone again but loses yet another person as they become the 'villain.' He fights them off but at what cost? He loses yet again someone that he cared about. However, he know has a whole new cast of crew members that he can rely on and he finally realizes this after dealing with so much misery and grief over losing so many people. He finally accepts his circumstances and decides to move forward, realizing that there's nothing he can do about the past.

--

Maybe I just read too damn deep into these videos. I could be completely wrong. But it was fun to theorize about.

It could all just be a fever dream. Who knows when it comes to Joji and his music.

[taeheyhey]

Close to Normal (Finale)

Chapter 22 - Little Star

Taehyung x Reader - 2.7K words

A/N - Well then...here it is! It's honestly been so lovely to post this story here. I'm so thankful for the support and the nice comments and likes. I've been so happy that I've got to know some unbelievably kind and warm people through posting it, and I really hope you like the next stories I put out there. I'm hoping to spend a lot of my free time this Christmas catching up with some of the requests I've had. If you are not familiar with the song Little Star by Standing Egg (which I'm sure a lot of you are), please check out the links below. I really feel like knowing/hearing the song adds to this chapter.

Standing Egg - Little Star

Taehyung - Little Star (Cover) (Credit to Bangtan Taehyung)

Anyway...let's get on with it!! Please enjoy!

One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven ~ Eight ~ Nine ~ Ten ~ Eleven ~ Twelve ~ Thirteen ~ Fourteen ~ Fifteen ~ Sixteen ~ Seventeen ~ Eighteen ~ Nineteen ~ Twenty ~ Twenty-One ~ Twenty-Two

Needless to say, it was not the beginning of The Notebook.

Wholly bewildered and strangely apprehensive, you felt your eyes begin to prick with hot tears as the three words on the screen dissolved in to blackness. As the strumming sound continued to fill the large empty room, you felt rather than heard the soothing strains of the song you had tried so hard to bring to your mind for the past three months, the music all at once as familiar to you as if you had heard it every day.

You turned in your seat, looking over your left shoulder and then your right, rather redundantly as you knew you hadn’t heard anyone enter. You returned your attention to the large screen in front of you just in time to have the wind knocked out of you by the scene you were faced with.

It wasn’t the young man from the pictures with the perfectly applied make up and precisely tousled hair in a whole spectrum of colours. It was the beautiful bare face of the boy you had found yourself falling for – hard – some months earlier. It was the face you had seen almost every night when you had closed your eyes to sleep and the one that, for that brief, blissful moment before you were fully awake, you imagined yourself waking up to.

And he was staring in to the camera with eyes so large and a gaze so intense that you could have sworn he was looking right at you at that very moment. He flicked his eyes up to somewhere at the top of the screen after what felt like minutes of him staring in to your soul in silence.

The soft sound of the acoustic guitar which had caused nervous energy to course through you the moment it commenced played on in the background as you continued to be transfixed by the perfection of Taehyung’s face.

It was so jarring to see him so clearly before you after all these months. After your brief foray in to sleuthing to find out more about him, you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to look at the plethora of photographs and videos on the internet. There was no way that those images, moving or otherwise, would do justice to the kind and free-spirited soul who had captured your heart completely. You needed to be able to remember him how you had seen him. Your funny, shy, chivalrous and effortlessly handsome Taehyung. Yours.

“Geurae,” was all he said before nodding briefly with a small smile and beginning to sing along to the music, which was now being played through the speakers on his phone rather than dubbed over the top of the footage. The lyrics of the song had been translated at the bottom of the video, and you found yourself torn between wanting to understood the words he sang so beautifully; and the need to look only at him.

Close your eyes and listen carefully to my story

Before my story ends, you will dream

Little star tonight

All night, I will watch over you

The sound of his voice instantly transported you back to that night he had come to you and held you close to him on the roof, surrounded by blankets and an all encompassing feeling of belonging and contentment.

When I first met you, it was truly eye-blinding

When I first saw your smile, I felt like I had the whole world

Little star tonight

All night, I will watch over you

Your eyes were drawn to the green enamel pendant which lay against his chest between the unbuttoned collar of his navy blue striped pyjamas, and your hand flew to it’s red counterpart hanging around your own neck involuntarily as you remained mesmerized by his deep voice. As he sang lyrics declaring that he’d watch over you, he lifted his own long fingers to grip at the tiger shape as though consciously mirroring your actions.

When I see you fast asleep in my arms

I can’t take my eyes off you for a second

You’re so pretty – I feel like my breath will stop

How can I fall asleep?

You huffed out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, wanting so desperately to reach out to the young man on the screen who was so blatantly struggling to hold back tears, as you felt the first of your own fall on to your cheek.

The hotel room transitioned to another scene, and the song Taehyung had been singing continued to play – along with the translation of the lyrics – as it did so, the audio expertly edited and entirely seamless. You clasped your hand over your mouth to muffle the guffaw that had begun to burst forth at the sight before you. Seven men standing in a glaringly white room, each of them sporting a pastel-pink, spotted headband, all sticking out at wildly varying angles, but with an equal level of absurdity vastly at odds with the soporific music.

Two of the young men were instantly recognisable to you as Taehyung and Jimin, the latter of which had dyed his hair a rather alarming shade of pink not too dissimilar to the colour of the antennae-like bow standing to attention atop his head. The other members were more or less evenly split in to three not looking too sure about the fluffy accessory; and the remaining two seeming to be enjoying it a tad too much.

It was obvious that the group of men surrounding Taehyung were his band mates. You had seen them in some of the photos you had found, although truth be told you hadn’t paid that much attention to them at the time, so flummoxed had you been by your then recent discovery about Taehyung’s occupation.

It was clear they were playing some sort of game, but the rules of it and the words being spoken were dubbed over with the music, not that you would have understood them anyway. Taehyung seemed to be repeatedly failing at whatever the objective was, and Jimin – who didn’t stray far from his side for a second – kept leaning over and pushing Taehyung’s lips up in to a smile in what might have appeared to be a consolatory manner.

You touched your fingers to your lips and thought about Hannah doing the very same thing to you those few nights earlier. Was it related to all this – whatever this was – somehow?

Before you were able to think about it for too long, the scene changed once again. This time, the footage was shaky and whoever was operating the camera zoomed in and out a little until the lens focused correctly on their chosen subject.

My love, my everything, my angel from heaven

My two eyes, my world – you stole them all

Little star tonight

All night, I will watch over you

Taehyung was lay back on what you assumed to be his bed holding his phone up in front of his face, and as the camera zoomed in further, he did the same on his phone screen, evidently unaware that he was being filmed. As the lens refocused your breath caught in your throat as you recognised the photo on his handset as being the one he had taken of you. He stroked is thumb across the image of your face and looked so forlorn that your felt your heart lurch towards him as the tears began to spill more readily on to your cheeks.

Another scene change, this time transitioning to a photograph, an image Taehyung had clearly taken of himself that night on the rooftop of the bar, as you recognised your city’s skyline lit up in the far background of the shot. He was smiling broadly in a perfect rectangle, his free hand raised up beside his scrunched up eyes in a peace sign, the very picture of happiness. There was a caption across the picture:

그녀는 훌륭하다

For a moment you cursed yourself for not acting on your whim to learn Korean, however you needn’t have worried as the foreign letters melted away until they were replaced with the English translation.

She is wonderful

As the still image faded, it was replaced with another rooftop scene, although this time it was Taehyung perched on a stool, a pink fleece blanket draped around his shoulders. To his left another of the members sat, a pale brown acoustic guitar balanced across his crossed legs, continuing to play the song in another seamless transition as Taehyung carried on singing along.

My love tonight

All night, I will watch over you

Forever, I will watch over you

When the song had ended, the man playing the guitar walked over to Taehyung and placed a hand on his shoulder, before offering him a comforting smile and carrying the instrument away by the neck until he exited the frame.

Once again it seemed that Taehyung was unaware that the camera was still rolling and he slouched a little on the high stool but remained seated. He lifted his head to somewhere above the camera, speaking directly to the person operating the device, and you were thankful for the subtitles which persisted along the bottom of the screen.

“Did you get it? Did it sound good?" Taehyung’s eyes were huge and full of concern as he awaited a response from the invisible cameraman.

The voice answered in a placatory tone. “I got it, hyung. She’s going to love it.”

On screen Taehyung sighed and dropped his head to gaze at his hands which were rested in his lap. “I hope so Jungkook-ah. I miss her.”

And with that the short film ended.

The lights shone in the theatre once more and you blinked your eyes in protest to the sudden brightness in the room, which caused further unshed tears to fall on to your cheeks.

You suddenly had an awful lot of questions.

He missed you? Had he been trying to reach out to you all this time? On a scale of one-to-one-hundred, just how much of a stubborn idiot had you been?

As you allowed your vision to adjust your attention was suddenly pulled to the end of the row you were sitting on. Expecting it to be Hannah, you turned in your seat to ask her for an explanation as to what on earth you had just seen and how she was involved in it.

But it wasn’t Hannah.

 ~~~

 Taehyung had observed transfixed as you watched the short movie that Jungkook had edited together with the help of Namjoon and Yoongi. He was captivated by the way the light from the screen lit up your face in so many different colours, and how beautiful you looked as you reacted to just a small selection of the footage they had compiled for the video.

For as much as Taehyung wanted to help Jungkook with the film, if he had had his way it would have taken up hours rather than just a few short minutes. However he was surprised that he had not included at least some the numerous impromptu English lessons with Namjoon that had begun to take place with much greater frequency. Taehyung was proud of the progress he had made in the language and he would have been lying if he said he didn’t want to show it off to you a little. But as he saw the way your eyes were clearly welling up with tears and the smile that graced your face at some of the sillier content in the video, he realised he was right to trust the other members’ judgement.

Just to be able to see you with his own eyes was so wonderful he could barely believe it, even after the flight to get here – complete with all the usual complications and stresses that go hand in hand with air travel – and all the negotiating with Seong-min to get approval to leave the country, it still felt so dream-like that he was afraid he might wake up in his bed at any second.

So enraptured had you clearly been by the large screen before you, you hadn’t noticed him standing to one side of the theatre, half hidden in the shadows of one of the fire exits, and it was easy enough for him to move to the middle of the room without prematurely attracting your attention.

As the large room was illuminated once more and your eyes fell on him, he swore he felt his heart stop as you stood mutely to attention, your eyes wide and your mouth agape.

For a few moments you both remained motionless, Taehyung drinking in the image of you before him, and you standing in silence as you struggled to compute his presence.

You finally called out to him, his name a question on your lips. He smiled and nodded in response, waiting for you to come to him, frightened that you might run away should he make any sudden movements.

 ~~~

 “Taehyung?” was all you could manage, your voice weak with emotion.

You felt elation and relief and a strange exhaustion all at once. For all your denial and avoidance of the truth of your feelings, you knew there was a part of you that was always anticipating and hoping for his return, and now he was standing in front of you, it was all you could do to not let yourself fall in to his arms that very instant.

It felt as though hours could have passed as you both stood still, terrified that he would vanish in to thin air – like so many of your dreams of him on waking – should you attempt to close the distance between you.

It wasn’t until he eventually spoke that you truly believed he was there.

All he said was your name and you closed your eyes to savour the moment, feeling fresh tears spring to your eyes in relief. You began to carefully make your way out of the row of seats and cursed Hannah for not advising you to sit nearer to the edge. You were positive you couldn’t have been cutting a particularly graceful figure as you gradually moved closer to Taehyung, moving nowhere near quickly enough for your liking.

Nor his it seemed, as he reached for you as you finally neared him, pulling you to stand close to him and cupping your face in both hands, and using his thumbs to wipe away the tears that were still stubbornly falling.

“Don’t cry, y/n,” he pleaded, dipping his head to look in to your eyes, his deep voice music to your ears after too long of being deprived of it. “Please don’t cry,” he said again.

You inhaled shakily and tried to steady your heartbeat even as it pounded relentlessly against your ribcage, gripping on to his biceps as you stared up at his face, still startling in it’s perfection even with worry etched across it.

He dropped a chaste kiss to your forehead and held you to him tightly, a deep sigh expanding his chest as he continued looking down at you. “I’m so sorry y/n, I missed you so much,” he said in a whisper before lowering his face towards yours, his eyes searching yours all the while.

“I missed you too,” you breathed, craning upwards to meet him.

 ~~~

As your lips met for the first time in what felt like forever, Taehyung’s heart felt so full he thought it might burst. For as hard a time as he had given himself for the way he had allowed all of this to play out, none of it seemed to matter as he felt you melt in to his touch at last.

He had seen and done many things in his life, much more than most people would ever get to, but the simple pleasure of feeling you in his arms at that moment was one of the most extraordinary things he could remember ever experiencing, and it would be many years until anything would even come close to bettering it.

There would be plenty of time for apologies and working out what the future might hold; how you each might work around the distance and circumstances currently throwing up obstacles in the path of your relationship. But for now, he kissed you slowly and deeply as though you each had all the time in the world, and – right at that moment – it truly felt to both of you as though that were true.

A/N - So...there it is!! I really really hope you liked it. Thank you for giving me so much of your time. Even though I have already posted this story elsewhere, I'm as nervous this time as I was before about the ending, so please reblog or leave a like or a reply if you enjoyed it and asks are always welcome/appreciated!

I really hope you stick around with me for more!! Thank you lovelies! ♥♥♥

[babyboyoonie]

Hey of your doing requests could you do a short and sweet one shot about yandere tae who’s madly in love with the highschool s sweetheart min yoongi, but yoongis already taken by the school’s football star jungkook. You decide the rest.

Hello darling!! Thanks for your request, I LOVE this prompt ehe~ though hm I did my best but I’m not sure I managed to make it sweet…what with, you know, Yandere Tae.

Please tell me afterward okay? Okay, enjoy! ⁝(๑⑈௰⑈)◞⁝˚º꒰꒱

When he hears about him, Taehyung’s stuck somewhere that’s neither life nor death.

It’s a body working on auto-pilot with a mind wandering, lost—but not really, he’s among people and away from them at the same time; gaze flicking toward them, eyes, pictures, the jocks strutting in a tight group beyond the window, all laughs and sweat and a flock of sighing girls trailing behind them. Back at the corridor again, cold and warm, hungry and sated—Taehyung trembles with a need he can’t put a name on.

(Refuses to.)

And then—

“Dude, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

“Me too.”

And—and this picks his interest. He quirks an eyebrow and stops dead in his tracks to look at the boy he nearly calls his brother. Affection and closeness and a tight link cuffing their heart together in best friend soulmate restrictor—“You? Really?”

Jimin pouts at him, opens his mouth before clamping it shut, hesitant. There’s a wariness laying there Taehyung hadn’t seen since his last accident back in elementary school. Alarm bells ring in his mind, his heart, whispers at him to perhaps drop it. But he cocks his head sideways, eyebrows raised in quiet curiosity.

Jimin relents, Jimin always does, even if he shouldn’t. “There’s this boy,” he says in a rush, blushes slightly at the simple mention of him while the guy accompanying them—Baekhyun, was it?—visibly brightens, brims with excitement. Taehyung fiddles with his camera, breath caught, anticipation building. “His name’s Yoongi, and—and God, Tae, he’s an angel.”

There had been silence, and then—and then Taehyung had laughed, the volcano building inside his chest dissipating, curling out of him like fog before the explosion happened.

But at Jimin’s knowing gaze, at Baekyun’s soft laugh, oh, Taehyung should have known better.

The anticipation disappeared before it could explode; Taehyung had thought so. Blowing out a breath, shrugging languidly and strutting ahead, Taehyung had thought so.

It exploded later.

One late, absolutely mundane afternoon—

—save for a presence; a presence like the first day of winter and eyes brimming with the life of spring. Save for a boy hovering around Taehyung’s shoulders reading into him like no one did before, and wrapping around him like—like he acknowledged and celebrated Taehyung’s existence. This same Taehyung, lost somewhere between life and death, that tightly embraced the things that instilled some light in him and took him away from his melancholy. This Taehyung, dearly appreciated, but still spoken about like, like he was weird, some kind of alien. He wasn’t. Knew so. As much as he knew the image he projected. Didn’t care about it, because those people weren’t the one that made him live.

And then—and then it exploded. This fire Jimin built up at the simple mention of a boy. A name leaving his lips like a prayer. Min Yoongi. The boy that walked around with flowers in his hair like the darkest ink, blushing profusely as he swore that his best friend insisted on it and he couldn’t refuse. The boy peering into Taehyung’s eyes and embracing him whole like they’ve knew each other forever; even as Taehyung later learned that he actually hated crowds and generally stayed away from people.

Min Yoongi.

His savior.

(Or perhaps, the sinister part in him that knows of his unhealthy tendencies whispers, his downfall.)

And, and things are like that, and of course Jimin was right to be wary; because it’s a week and two and Taehyung’s walls are plastered with pictures of a fairy made boy with smiles like bottled-heaven.

“So,” Jimin casually asks as he sits by his sides, gaze flickering around and falling on the boy that had a crowd of enapturated teenagers drinking in his every words. Taehyung idly thinks he wouldn’t mind erasing them all. Perhaps he would. “Yoongi-hyung, huh?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer. Shrugs, casual and relaxed as he keeps his eyes on Yoongi. He rarely does anything else, lately. “Yoongi-hyung.” He finally concedes as the silence stretches on, if only to let a prayer-like name falls from his lips. It might as well be, Taehyung’s certain Yoongi’s out of his world and none of them deserve to even look at him.

Jimin narrows his eyes. Would probably launch himself in another tirade, like he had started to do since he discovered Taehyung’s obsession. It hadn’t been that difficult, really—where their high school’s sweetheart was, Taehyung never strayed too far behind. The most devoted fan, religious in his dedication, the reverence brimming in his eyes, the need to erase all and everyone that would even dare to come near him.

But his best friend doesn’t manage to say anything. Yoongi catches his gaze and sends a pretty smile his way. Shy on the edges, like he always try to hide, sweet like the sweetest candy out there, pretty pretty pretty.Taehyung’s heart nearly threatens to rip away from his chest like it always does whenever Yoongi does as much as glance in his direction.

And when he talks to him—

(Oh God, when he does, Taehyung runs to the nearest bathroom and brings himself to completion with this simple interaction running in his mind again and again.)

Yoongi talks to him. To the both of them, at first; sends a soft smile as a greeting to Jimin before turning toward Taehyung. And if the blushing boy by his sides falling over himself at Yoongi’s salutations wasn’t his best friend, perhaps Taehyung would have hurt him.

(It wouldn’t be the first time he hurt a person coming too close to Yoongi, after all.)

But right now—Yoongi talks to him. Started doing so after tutoring Taehyung in English on Fridays afternoons. Did it much more, daily even, after Taehyung prevented his fall when the little darling slipped in the stairs. Usually careful angel, distracted this time, wandering in the corridors all in black clothes, and slipping—would have hurt himself, if Taehyung wasn’t following close behind.

(Taehyung’s always following close behind.)

Yoongi invites him—then, because he’s polite like that—to lunch, as he does, everyday. Still gets shy, still fiddles with his pants like Taehyung would even dare to refuse. Still brightens like the prettiest star in the sky when Taehyung rushes an enamored yes.

Of course Taehyung says yes. (Would still be there, lurking in a corner and watching Yoongi like clock work.)

A Yoongi with his friend is a pleasantly loud Yoongi. He blooms with colors and expressions and Taehyung stares and stares like he’s watching the eighth wonder in the world. Drinks in Yoongi’s lullaby-like laugh, comes alive with each of his gummy smiles and the way he curls on himself when he really falls to hilarity. Babbles quietly to Jimin about his tantalizing pout, omnipresent whenever Yoongi talks, because—”fuck, Jimin, look at him, he talks in pout! How cute is that?” , “terribly cute, Tae, I feel you…!”

Not quiet enough, though.

Because Yoongi’s boyfriend sends a glare his way. Yoongi’s boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook; all shades of gorgeous and amazing, the school’s football star that glides on the ground as he walks and aces in literally everything he starts.

Taehyung doesn’t fucking care. Taehyung only cares about the fact that Jungkook has Yoongi.

That Jungkook gets to sleep on Yoongi’s lap whenever and wherever, laughs as the whole damn school coo at them and Yoongi flushes prettily. Only cares about the fact that Jungkook bursts in candid and flamboyant declarations of love to Yoongi every damn day, grabs the boy’s ass in public with a cheeky smile and only gets away with a slight pout and delicate hands pushing softly at his chest.

Taehyung burns with jealousy whenever Yoongi blooms so pretty in colors as Jungkook compliments him—”looking gorgeous again today, Min, which lucky guy might be your boyfriend?” and Yoongi, Yoongi always rolls his eyes but flushes so hard. Kisses Jungkook then, always does, quick and sweet and shying away seconds later. Taehyung hates it. Hates Jungkook. Hates that Yoongi religiously bakes something for him every day, hates that he gets to manhandle Yoongi around while the boy goes putty and easily in his strong hands. Throws him goddamn heart-eyes, cheeks red, ducking under the protection of Jungkook’s arms when he wants to get out of a conversation.

Disappearing behind the school where Taehyung knows they make out so hard Yoongi comes out of it disheveled like he’s been fucked six ways to Sunday. Ruffled hair, clothes astray, lips red and puffy like he’s been bitten; dazed, cat-like eyes.

Taehyung hates hates hates.

Still follows them, anyway. Still takes pictures, still rubs his cock and comes hard as he imagines himself in Jungkook’s place. Watches and groans and imagine his own hard cock in Yoongi’s pouty, doll-like lips. Taehyung always comes the hardest when the image flashes in his mind.

Jungkook who must know.

Because Taehyung stares. He stares at Yoongi, like his eyes were made for that and only that. Because Taehyung has money he doesn’t know what to do with and showers Yoongi with gifts, like he was his boyfriend. Because Taehyung takes thousand of pictures of Yoongi and Jungkook must have stumbled on one. Probably doesn’t know, though, that Taehyung does it when they’re not at school either. Because Taehyung’s always always here when Yoongi’s in trouble. Makes sure to beat the busy jock at it, even as Jungkook throws him a baleful look and grabs Yoongi possessively afterwards.

They fought.

When Yoongi wasn’t present, of course they fought.

Because Taehyung was obsessed with Yoongi, and Jungkook was a possessive man. To reason, Taehyung would, too, if he had an angel as boyfriend.

Taehyung’s still possessive, even though Yoongi most definitely isn’t his boyfriend.

It doesn’t break his heart as much as it did in the beginning. Yoongi’s—Yoongi’s responsive.

Flushes easily when Taehyung’s around, laughs at his positively lame jokes and gives his utmost attention whenever Taehyung gets lost in his numerous wondering about the world. Yoongi’s pretty and he only gets prettier as he shines bright when Taehyung holds his hand, because he’s—fuck, he’s an absolutely adorable little one and nothing makes him happier than someone holding his hand. Yoongi’s here, always answers present when Taehyung needs him, defends him—”Tae-Tae’s not weird. He’s a bright mind and you all have a lot to learn from him.”

God, Taehyung loves him so much.

But Yoongi—Yoongi’s an angel, okay. He’s white-pure and a right man, he would never ever cheat. Would rather die and work himself to the bone for his couple, rather than chose someone else. That’s just the way he is, another thing Taehyung has come to adore, even if it doesn’t work in his favor.

Only—

Jungkook doesn’t see that. Young and still naive and insecure in their relation as he is, brimming with fear, there’s always a slight accusation in his eyes when he sees Taehyung around Yoongi.

“Don’t fucking approach him ever again.”

Jungkook sports a bloody nose, ragged breath and multiple cuts everywhere on his body; and Taehyung doesn’t think he’s in any better shape. But Taehyung—Taehyung doesn’t really care. Taehyung’s running on obsession and some sort of crazy love that could, he’s sure, makes him live eternally.

He smirks, basking in a victory that makes Jungkook visibly tremble with rage. “What for?” he whispers, basks in thoughts of darling smiles and shy gazes dancing behind his eyelids. “He’ll be mine sooner than you expect.”

Jungkook lunges the moment those words pass Taehyung’s lips.

Even though—even though Taehyung doesn’t think so. Knows Yoongi’s too loyal to leave Jungkook for another man. But Taehyung’s also in love and knows like he knows the stars are in the galaxy that he’ll be a goner for Yoongi until the day he dies. Would rather live alone, than live with someone that isn’t Yoongi.

Because the boy with sunshine in his smile and the future in his gaze—he’s it, for Taehyung.

[cherrywineandmagic]

Wings

A/N: I’m gonna be quite honest. These past weeks I’ve been staying up until 6 am and waking up at 2 pm. One day I woke up and found I had written this in my notes. I don’t really remember writing it, but hey. Why not?

Spencer Reid meets his guardian angel and she’s nothing like he would have ever imagined. 

Spencer Reid was at a loss that night. He had returned home from a particularly difficult case that had resulted in no happy endings for anyone, and he was beginning to doubt himself. If he wasn’t quick enough on his feet, if he was unable to calculate the unsub’s locations before another innocent person lost their life, was he really of any use to the BAU?

He sighed deeply, allowing himself to fall back into the soft comforts of his mattress and momentarily rejoice in the fact he was home. That small ounce of happiness was of course short-lived as his concerns immediately rushed back into his mind.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, with his hand covering his eyes as he attempted to relax. It could have been five minutes or it could have been hours, up until he heard a loud thump hit the floor beside him, startling him to death. 

“Who are you?” he immediately asked as he sat up, alarmed at the fact there was now a stranger in his bedroom.

“Wow, I did not calculate that right,” she groaned as she turned over, the pain she felt in her back showing in the way she cringed when she lifted herself off of his floor. He watched as she stood and stretched out, acting as comfortable as if she was in her own home.

“Where did you come from?” he asked, unsure of whether he was dreaming or not. If he wasn’t mistaken, she had fallen from his ceiling. Logically that didn’t make any sense.

“Aw, Spencer,” she said in a tone that was similar to the one people used on their pets after coming home from a long vacation, “I came from up there, you know that.”

“I…who are you again?” he asked as he looked around, his mind quickly locating objects that could be used as weapons. He had left his gun in the living room along with his other things. The lamp beside him would have to do if he needed to defend himself, but he was completely lost as to what exactly was happening in his room at this point.

“I’m Y/N. I’m your guardian angel,” she replied with a proud smile, her arms on her hips and her stance confident. “And don’t hit me with a lamp. That fall was enough for me.”

“You’re my…I’m sorry, what?” he asked, completely flabbergasted.

“Come on, Spence. You know what a guardian angel is,” she chuckled as she sat on one of his drawers a few feet away from him. “You know, I protect you, make sure nothing horrible happens, blah blah. You know the deal.”

“This can’t be real,” he muttered to himself. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up, completely convinced he was dreaming. Guardian angels weren’t real. They were just stories, made up entities to provide hope and promote faith. He was a scientist, he knew better.

“Not dreaming, kiddo,” Y/N stated with a grin after watching him debate with himself. “Do you need some proof?” she asked as she hopped down and walked towards him.

Spencer nearly fell back on his bed as wings sprung from on her back. They were impressively large and made of pure white feathers that seemed to shine despite the fact there was no light to reflect from them. His hand naturally reached out to touch one of the wings, surprise filling him with how delicately soft they felt.

“See? Angel,” Y/N said with a small smile as her wings retracted into her back and disappeared from sight. 

“But how? So heaven is real? God’s real? Can you show me? I dont-”

“Spencer,” Y/N interrupted. “There are questions that I can’t answer, and things I can’t show you. Try asking me something a little simpler.”

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked after the initial shock passed. She took a seat beside him and gently placed a hand on his knee.

“You’re doubting yourself, Spencer. You shouldn’t be. You’re more than enough for the team.”

“I…how did you know?” he questioned. He hadn’t voiced anything aloud about that the entire time. His doubts had been kept to himself, eating him alive.

“I’m your guardian angel! I can hear and feel when something wrong is going on in that mind of yours.”

“You hear my thoughts?” he asked hesitantly, his mind suddenly crowded with all the times he had thought anything sexual, rude, or just straight up inappropriate. He cringed at the idea someone else had been listening in.

“Yes, but only if I want to. I feel what you’re feeling. So I tune in when I feel negativity, but I give you your privacy for everything else,” she replied with a wink. He sighed in relief. At least he had some privacy.

“Why now? Why are you showing yourself now?”

“I had to beg the big chief upstairs to let me do this. I’ve been begging for a while now. We’re not supposed to interact, you know,” she said pointedly. “But you’re kind of a big deal, even with us. Everyone is a fan. And you’re my human to watch so I wasn’t about to let all this negative thinking get to you.”

“Negative thinking is what made you come down?” Spencer asked in disbelief. “You’re supposed to protect me! Where were you when I was taken hostage and killed? When I was high on drugs?”

“Yeah,” she cringed at the reminder of his past troubles. “You weren’t always mine to watch over. You used to have another guardian angel. Name was Debra. Kind of a bitch to be quite honest.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyways, after that whole ordeal…she kinda got fired. She always went on and on about how smart you were and she actually decided to take a small “vacation” because she thought you could take care of yourself. Bitch was in the Bahamas while you were suffering.”

“Are you kidding?” Spencer exclaimed. “Can you even do that? She didn’t feel me in pain? She didn’t feel me die?!”

“Oh, she was completely drunk. See, we can blend in with you guys easily. And we can be seen when we want to. She was out drinking when that happened and it wasn’t until the big boss snatched her up that she realized what was happening to you.”

“What happened to her?” Spencer asked, a part of him sure this whole interaction was a figment of his imagination and the other part desperately wishing it to be real.

"She got fired. Literally. Got sent straight down, if you know what I mean,” Y/N answered with a shake of her head. “And that’s when I got you!” she added with genuine excitement.

“What about everything else? Like when I got shot in the neck?” Spencer demanded to know. “Aren’t you supposed to protect me? Where were you then?”

“Spencer, you got shot in the neck. How many people do you know survive that? I intervened. Of course I protected you,” Y/N replied, slightly offended of the fact he was seeming so ungrateful. “You’re not exactly the easiest person on Earth to keep safe, you know.”

Spencer nodded silently as he tried to process things. In his death experience he had seen a bright light calling to him, something that many interpreted as heaven. If he had seen that, surely angels weren’t too far out to believe in, right?

“I’ve really tried, you know,” Y/N said softly. “You know those nights when you almost did stupid things only to wake up the next morning not remembering how you got to bed? That was me.”

Spencer nodded, remembering the days when Emily had been declared dead. Many nights he had thought back to Dilaudid and the relief it would bring. Every time his thoughts strayed that way he’d find that sleep overtook him suddenly, and he’d wake up the next morning with a clearer mind.

“And those days where you felt so low and then suddenly you’d feel a small burst of happiness, just enough to get you through the day?”

“That was you,” Spencer sighed, realizing he owed much more to her than he knew.

“Yup.”

“But if you can make me feel happy, why did you let me suffer so much over the years?” he asked, real confusion filling his voice. If there was an almighty, all loving god, surely he would’ve been saved the pain.

“You’re human, Spence. You need to experience things and heartache is one of them. This is how you grow.”

Spencer nodded, looking at Y/N in an effort to remember everything about her. If this was his angel, he wanted to be comfortable. Even then she brought a small sense of comfort sitting beside him, a small smile on his face as she felt his previous negativity begin to melt away. Knowing he was protected brought some peace to his mind.

“How old are you?” he asked with curiosity. She looked young, maybe his age or maybe a little younger. But angels weren’t exactly humans and he had no real information about their average lifespan.

“It’s rude to ask a lady that,” she chided, an amused smirk spreading across her face. “I’m about a thousand. I stopped counting decades ago.”

“Wow.” Spencer was stunned at her age. She had seen things he probably wouldn’t even be able to imagine. Yet the way she spoke and held herself remained youthful. Whenever he thought of angels he pictured majestic beings who acted with elegance and class.The girl in front of him instead kind of reminded him of Emily, unapologetic and lacking in a filter.

“You should get some sleep now. You’re exhausted,” Y/N commented as she stood. He nodded, a part of him not wanting her to go. He wanted to know more, to ask questions he’d always wondered about and yet he knew she wouldn’t give him answers.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his words ringing with sincerity. She grinned, the dimples on her face an adorable feature.

“No problem, kiddo. You’ve been my favorite human since Einstein! Can’t let you suffer too much.”

“Einstein?!” Reid exclaimed in surprise. Immediately he wanted to know more, to know who the man actually was, and to know what he thought about.

“Of course! I get all the geniuses” she said as if it was common knowledge. “See you, Spence!”

In the second it took Spencer to blink, she was gone. He stared at the spot she had stood literally a second before, a tiny grin pulling at his lips.

“See you, Y/N.”

[araitsume]

Prophets and Kings, pp. 722-733: Chapter (60) Visions of Future Glory

In the darkest days of her long conflict with evil, the church of God has been given revelations of the eternal purpose of Jehovah. His people have been permitted to look beyond the trials of the present to the triumphs of the future, when, the warfare having been accomplished, the redeemed will enter into possession of the promised land. These visions of future glory, scenes pictured by the hand of God, should be dear to His church today, when the controversy of the ages is rapidly closing and the promised blessings are soon to be realized in all their fullness.

Many were the messages of comfort given the church by the prophets of old. “Comfort ye, comfort ye My people” (Isaiah 40:1), was Isaiah's commission from God; and with the commission were given wonderful visions that have been the believers’ hope and joy through all the centuries that have followed. Despised of men, persecuted, forsaken, God's children in every age have nevertheless been sustained by His sure promises. By faith they have looked forward to the time when He will fulfill to His church the assurance, “I will make thee an eternal excellency, a joy of many generations.” Isaiah 60:15.

Often the church militant is called upon to suffer trial and affliction; for not without severe conflict is the church to triumph. “The bread of adversity,” “the water of affliction” (Isaiah 30:20), these are the common lot of all; but none who put their trust in the One mighty to deliver will be utterly overwhelmed. “Thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and He that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name, thou art Mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. For I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour: I gave Egypt for thy ransom, Ethiopia and Seba for thee. Since thou wast precious in My sight, thou hast been honorable, and I have loved thee: therefore will I give men for thee, and people for thy life.” Isaiah 43:1-4.

There is forgiveness with God; there is acceptance full and free through the merits of Jesus, our crucified and risen Lord. Isaiah heard the Lord declaring to His chosen ones: “I, even I, am He that blotteth out thy transgressions for Mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins. Put Me in remembrance: let us plead together: declare thou, that thou mayest be justified.” “Thou shalt know that I the Lord am thy Saviour and thy Redeemer, the Mighty One of Jacob.” Verses 25, 26; 60:16.

“The rebuke of His people shall He take away,” the prophet declared. “They shall call them, The holy people, The redeemed of the Lord.” He hath appointed “to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He might be glorified.”

“Awake, awake; put on thy strength, O Zion; Put on thy beautiful garments, O Jerusalem, the Holy City: For henceforth there shall no more come unto thee the uncircumcised and the unclean.

“Shake thyself from the dust; Arise, and sit down, O Jerusalem: Loose thyself from the bands of thy neck, O captive daughter of Zion.”

“O thou afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, Behold, I will lay thy stones with fair colors, And lay thy foundations with sapphires.

“And I will make thy windows of agates. And thy gates of carbuncles, And all thy borders of pleasant stones.

“And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord; And great shall be the peace of thy children. In righteousness shalt thou be established:

“Thou shalt be far from oppression; for thou shalt not fear: And from terror; for it shall not come near thee. Behold, they shall surely gather together, but not by Me: Whosoever shall gather together against thee shall fall for thy sake....

“No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; And every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, And their righteousness is of Me, saith the Lord.”

Isaiah 25:8; 62:12; Isaiah 61:3; 52:1, 2; Isaiah 54:11-17.

Clad in the armor of Christ's righteousness, the church is to enter upon her final conflict. “Fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners” (Song of Solomon 6:10), she is to go forth into all the world, conquering and to conquer.

The darkest hour of the church's struggle with the powers of evil is that which immediately precedes the day of her final deliverance. But none who trust in God need fear; for “when the blast of the terrible ones is as a storm against the wall,” God will be to His church “a refuge from the storm.” Isaiah 25:4.

In that day only the righteous are promised deliverance. “The sinners in Zion are afraid; fearfulness hath surprised the hypocrites. Who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire? who among us shall dwell with everlasting burnings? He that walketh righteously, and speaketh uprightly; he that despiseth the gain of oppressions, that shaketh his hands from holding of bribes, that stoppeth his ears from hearing of blood, and shutteth his eyes from seeing evil; he shall dwell on high: his place of defense shall be the munitions of rocks: bread shall be given him; his waters shall be sure.” Isaiah 33:14-16.

The word of the Lord to His faithful ones is: “Come, My people, enter thou into thy chambers, and shut thy doors about thee: hide thyself as it were for a little moment, until the indignation be overpast. For, behold, the Lord cometh out of His place to punish the inhabitants of the earth for their iniquity.” Isaiah 26:20, 21.

In visions of the great judgment day the inspired messengers of Jehovah were given glimpses of the consternation of those unprepared to meet their Lord in peace.

“Behold, the Lord maketh the earth empty, and maketh it waste, and turneth it upside down, and scattereth abroad the inhabitants thereof; ... because they have transgressed the laws, changed the ordinance, broken the everlasting covenant. Therefore hath the curse devoured the earth, and they that dwell therein are desolate.... The mirth of tabrets ceaseth, the noise of them that rejoice endeth, the joy of the harp ceaseth.” Isaiah 24:1-8.

“Alas for the day! for the day of the Lord is at hand, and as a destruction from the Almighty shall it come.... The seed is rotten under their clods, the garners are laid desolate, the barns are broken down; for the corn is withered. How do the beasts groan! the herds of cattle are perplexed, because they have no pasture; yea, the flocks of sheep are made desolate.” “The vine is dried up, and the fig tree languisheth; the pomegranate tree, the palm tree also, and the apple tree, even all the trees of the field, are withered: because joy is withered away from the sons of men.” Joel 1:15-18, 12.

“I am pained at my very heart,” Jeremiah exclaims as he beholds the desolations wrought during the closing scenes of earth's history. “I cannot hold my peace, because thou hast heard, O my soul, the sound of the trumpet, the alarm of war. Destruction upon destruction is cried; for the whole land is spoiled.” Jeremiah 4:19, 20.

“The loftiness of man shall be bowed down,” declares Isaiah of the day of God's vengeance, “and the haughtiness of men shall be made low: and the Lord alone shall be exalted in that day. And the idols He shall utterly abolish.... In that day a man shall cast his idols of silver, and his idols of gold, which they made each one for himself to worship, to the moles and to the bats; to go into the clefts of the rocks, and into the tops of the ragged rocks, for fear of the Lord, and for the glory of His majesty, when He ariseth to shake terribly the earth.” Isaiah 2:17-21.

Of those times of transition, when the pride of man shall be laid low, Jeremiah testifies: “I beheld the earth, and, lo, it was without form, and void; and the heavens, and they had no light. I beheld the mountains, and, lo, they trembled, and all the hills moved lightly. I beheld, and, lo, there was no man, and all the birds of the heavens were fled. I beheld, and, lo, the fruitful place was a wilderness, and all the cities thereof were broken down.” “Alas! for that day is great, so that none is like it: it is even the time of Jacob's trouble; but he shall be saved out of it.” Jeremiah 4:23-26; 30:7.

The day of wrath to the enemies of God is the day of final deliverance to His church. The prophet declares:

“Strengthen ye the weak hands, And confirm the feeble knees.

Say to them that are of a fearful heart, Be strong, fear not: Behold, your God will come with vengeance, Even God with a recompense; He will come and save you.”

“He will swallow up death in victory; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from off all faces; and the rebuke of His people shall He take away from off all the earth: for the Lord hath spoken it.” Isaiah 35:3, 4; 25:8. And as the prophet beholds the Lord of glory descending from heaven with all the holy angels, to gather the remnant church from among the nations of earth, he hears the waiting ones unite in the exultant cry:

“Lo, this is our God; We have waited for Him, And He will save us: This is the Lord; We have waited for Him, We will be glad and rejoice in His salvation.”

Isaiah 25:9.

The voice of the Son of God is heard calling forth the sleeping saints, and as the prophet beholds them coming from the prison house of death, he exclaims, “Thy dead men shall live, together with my dead body shall they arise. Awake and sing, ye that dwell in dust: for thy dew is as the dew of herbs, and the earth shall cast out the dead.”

“Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, And the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped. Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, And the tongue of the dumb sing.”

Isaiah 26:19; 35:5, 6.

In the visions of the prophet, those who have triumphed over sin and the grave are now seen happy in the presence of their Maker, talking freely with Him as man talked with God in the beginning. “Be ye glad,” the Lord bids them, “and rejoice forever in that which I create: for, behold, I create Jerusalem a rejoicing, and her people a joy. And I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and joy in My people: and the voice of weeping shall be no more heard in her, nor the voice of crying.” “The inhabitant shall not say, I am sick: the people that dwell therein shall be forgiven their iniquity.”

“In the wilderness shall waters break out, And streams in the desert. And the parched ground shall become a pool, And the thirsty land springs of water.”

“Instead of the thorn shall come up the fir tree, And instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree.”

“And an highway shall be there, and a way, And it shall be called The way of holiness; The unclean shall not pass over it; But it shall be for those: The wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein.”

“Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned: for she hath received of the Lord's hand double for all her sins.” Isaiah 65:18, 19; 33:24; 35:6, 7; 55:13; 35:8; 40:2.

As the prophet beholds the redeemed dwelling in the City of God, free from sin and from all marks of the curse, in rapture he exclaims, “Rejoice ye with Jerusalem, and be glad with her, all ye that love her: rejoice for joy with her.”

“Violence shall no more be heard in thy land, Wasting nor destruction within thy borders; But thou shalt call thy walls Salvation, And thy gates Praise.

“The sun shall be no more thy light by day; Neither for brightness shall the moon give light unto thee: But the Lord shall be unto thee an everlasting light, And thy God thy glory.

“Thy sun shall no more go down; Neither shall thy moon withdraw itself: For the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, And the days of thy mourning shall be ended.

“Thy people also shall be all righteous: They shall inherit the land forever, The branch of My planting, The work of My hands, That I may be glorified.”

Isaiah 66:10; 60:18-21.

The prophet caught the sound of music there, and song, such music and song as, save in the visions of God, no mortal ear has heard or mind conceived. “The ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.” “Joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving, and the voice of melody.” “As well the singers as the players on instruments shall be there.” “They shall lift up their voice, they shall sing for the majesty of the Lord.” Isaiah 35:10; 51:3; Psalm 87:7; Isaiah 24:14.

In the earth made new, the redeemed will engage in the occupations and pleasures that brought happiness to Adam and Eve in the beginning. The Eden life will be lived, the life in garden and field. “They shall build houses, and inhabit them; and they shall plant vineyards, and eat the fruit of them. They shall not build, and another inhabit; they shall not plant, and another eat: for as the days of a tree are the days of My people, and Mine elect shall long enjoy the work of their hands.” Isaiah 65:21, 22.

There every power will be developed, every capability increased. The grandest enterprises will be carried forward, the loftiest aspirations will be reached, the highest ambitions realized. And still there will appear new heights to surmount, new wonders to admire, new truths to comprehend, fresh objects of study to call forth the powers of body and mind and soul.

The prophets to whom these great scenes were revealed longed to understand their full import. They “inquired and searched diligently: ... searching what, or what manner of time the Spirit of Christ which was in them did signify.... Unto whom it was revealed, that not unto themselves, but unto us they did minister the things, which are now reported unto you.” 1 Peter 1:10-12.

To us who are standing on the very verge of their fulfillment, of what deep moment, what living interest, are these delineations of the things to come—events for which, since our first parents turned their steps from Eden, God's children have watched and waited, longed and prayed!

Fellow pilgrim, we are still amid the shadows and turmoil of earthly activities; but soon our Saviour is to appear to bring deliverance and rest. Let us by faith behold the blessed hereafter as pictured by the hand of God. He who died for the sins of the world is opening wide the gates of Paradise to all who believe on Him. Soon the battle will have been fought, the victory won. Soon we shall see Him in whom our hopes of eternal life are centered. And in His presence the trials and sufferings of this life will seem as nothingness. The former things “shall not be remembered, nor come into mind.” “Cast not away therefore your confidence, which hath great recompense of reward. For ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise. For yet a little while, and He that shall come will come, and will not tarry.” “Israel shall be saved ... with an everlasting salvation: ye shall not be ashamed nor confounded world without end.” Isaiah 65:17; Hebrews 10:35-37; Isaiah 45:17.

Look up, look up, and let your faith continually increase. Let this faith guide you along the narrow path that leads through the gates of the city into the great beyond, the wide, unbounded future of glory that is for the redeemed. “Be patient therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord. Behold, the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and latter rain. Be ye also patient; stablish your hearts: for the coming of the Lord draweth nigh.” James 5:7, 8.

The nations of the saved will know no other law than the law of heaven. All will be a happy, united family, clothed with the garments of praise and thanksgiving. Over the scene the morning stars will sing together, and the sons of God will shout for joy, while God and Christ will unite in proclaiming. “There shall be no more sin, neither shall there be any more death.”

“And it shall come to pass, that from one new moon to another, and from one Sabbath to another, shall all flesh come to worship before Me, saith the Lord.” “The glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.” “The Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring forth before all the nations.” “In that day shall the Lord of hosts be for a crown of glory, and for a diadem of beauty, unto the residue of His people.”

“The Lord shall comfort Zion: He will comfort all her waste places; and He will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the Lord.” “The glory of Lebanon shall be given unto it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon.” “Thou shalt no more be termed Forsaken; neither shall thy land any more be termed Desolate: but thou shalt be called My Delight, and thy land Beulah.... As the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so shall thy God rejoice over thee.” Isaiah 66:23; 40:5; Isaiah 61:11; 28:5; Isaiah 51:3; 35:2; Isaiah 62:4, 5, margin.

[i-read-good-books]

So I’ve just read all of the webcomic Countdown to Countdown , and it’s absolutely gorgeous. Every word the characters speak seems to have meaning, and it’s very easy to realize the author has been planning the story for a long time. I urge everyone to check it out!

Because I’m trash, I’ve written some fanfiction. Because of course I have. It’s awful, please dont’ judge the webcomic on it!

@velocesmells I hope it’s not too terrible? It’s supposed to be an AU so I’m justifying how OOC they are in this with that O.O

There’s never anyone that eats with Lillium, but he makes a second plate anyways. You know, just in case.

…

Lillium’s place is dark.

Iris glances at it as he walks down the city streets, his bag slung over his shoulder, and furrows his brow slightly, biting his lower lip. Usually, the guy’s up and running by this time of the day, no matter how late it may be, the kitchen lights turned on until Iris can barely guess if it’s night or day. He doesn’t even have his obnoxious hipster music blasting from the house, which would be a welcome relief, if it weren’t so utterly bizarre.

Iris hesitates. He should be getting to centre soon, there’s a curfew he’s supposed to make on weekdays, regardless of how much he complains about it. It’s just… Lillium doesn’t do quiet evenings in the house. He spends the whole day working his arse off, switching from shitty job to shittier job, so he can come back to the house and cook the whole night, bragging about his omelette magic. Iris has scolded him about it enough times not to know that.

With the hollow, dull feeling in his chest from being perfectly aware that he’s going to regret this, Iris turns and marches up to the battered old house in the worst part of the neighbourhood, his footsteps echoing in the narrow alley. He makes a face at the stench, but powers on through.

There’s not much to Lillium’s that constitutes as a proper house; he’s being nice by not calling it a shack. It’s only one storey, of course (as if the guy could afford anything more than that), and it’s been sitting there, in between two tall apartment buildings, since the beginning of time, dwarfed by the growing urbanization of the landscape around it. Iris has told Lillium a thousand times that it seems more like an abandoned  cabin in a horror movie than anything, given the way the wooden walls are slowly rotting, the random spurts of paint on the walls without any order to them.

Iris fumbles to open the door with his key, swearing when he accidentally pokes his finger, and pushes it open without much trouble. He steps into the kitchen, glancing around for any sign of Lillium.

The place only has three rooms: the bathroom, a bedroom, and the kitchen. The bathroom is pretty terrible, which explains why Iris makes sure he’s done his business back at the centre before coming here, and the bedroom has been offered to him so many times (eyes twinkling, a smirk curling Lillium’s lips) that it’s become unthinkable to even go in. It’s not surprising that it’s the kitchen that’s the heart of the house (Lillium lives here), but he has to admit that it’s gotten pretty nice over the years, as more money has come in. Most of the appliances are decent, and it’s always kept pristine when Lillium’s not cooking, although all bets are off the moment he cracks some eggs. He’s also got all of his pictures and stuff there; his books cluttering the shaky shelves, dozens of volumes filled with recipes, his stupid teddy bear reclined against the wall. It makes it seem extremely more personal than his own room, much more intimate.

“Iris?” the familiar voice startles him, and he turns around towards where it’s coming from, tightening his grip on his bag. Lillium’s standing in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over his chest in a way that screams ‘unsure’ rather than ‘defensive’, slightly hunched over. He’s frowning. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a curfew?”

“I…,” Iris swallows, before lifting his chin, determined, “Oh, shush, White, leave it alone. Why aren’t you cooking? Did you finally realize everything you make tastes like ash sprinkled with ketchup?”

Lillium doesn’t laugh.

Iris’s heartbeat is faster than it should be. They’re just talking, after all. It’s just… Lillium isn’t smiling, joking around, or teasing him. He’s not even even offering him food, for Christ’s sake. Iris bites his lip again, lowering his gaze.

“You should go back to the centre,” Lillium murmurs, facing away from him. His bleached roots are starting to show amidst all the pink. His voice sounds forcibly light when he adds, “I know you want to be a bad boy and all, but don’t be stupid.”

Something’s wrong.

Iris looks down at the kitchen table. There’s some papers piled up on top of it, smudges of dirt on the corners of them from carrying them around with greasy fingers; besides that, his #1 Chef cup is resting on the table, half-empty. He narrows his eyes…

His apron is missing. In fact, it wasn’t at the rusty hanger Lillium uses to put all his coats up in the corridor. Where’s his apron from the café?

“You got fired,” he realizes, feeling a bit dumb for not noticing earlier, and watches his friend’s shoulders go down. “The café place you liked.”

“10 points for Gryffindor,” Lillium sighs, finally meeting his eyes again, a self-deprecating smile  on his lips. “Guess it wasn’t just meant to be, eh? Alas, they probably knew that, deep in my heart, I belong to you.”

Lillium used to tell him about the café. He was so excited when he got the job, prancing around the house and making Iris stand up to have a ‘happy dance’ in celebration of the first time he actually worked at a place near food. “Just you wait,” he told him, in a sing-song. “Soon I’ll be in the kitchens instead of wiping tables.”

Iris isn’t good at comforting people. Hell, he’s not even good at being around people, the centre’s made sure of that. Mostly he just broods around Lillium and the guy feeds him, takes him out to the park and puts flowers in his hair, snapping pictures of an old Nokia that smells like cat piss. They’re friends because Lillium likes him, not because he’s actually made any effort to keep in touch.

It’s… it’s strange, that his heart shrinks when he thinks of how Lillium’s incandescent smile must have faded today, in front of his boss. It pulls at his insides, the thought of him very quietly leaving through the back instead of spending the day at work.

Iris swallows hard, fidgeting, and chokes out, “Could I get an omelette?”

Lillium raises his eyebrows, “You’re actually asking me for an omelette? Have I died and gone to Heaven?” His eyes twinkle, “Are you my angel?”

Please never die, he thinks, with a terrifying sense of alarm, please.

He’s bad with people, yeah, but Lillium always makes it so that he never has to try. He’s rude and pushes him around, gives him stuff he’s too embarrassed to ask for, and doesn’t care at all that he’s dating both of the twins at the centre at the same time. Lillium’s kind of an older brother, in that way, except he’s constantly offering sex.

“It’s just not right, seeing you mope around like this,” Iris mutters, pursing his lips, “You’re supposed to be cooking or something, you weirdo. And don’t make any angel jokes, those are just old.”

Lillium pouts, taking a step closer to him, “Oh, honeybun.”

“Honeybun,” Iris repeats, faintly amused despite himself. “You do know there are knives in the kitchen, right?”

It takes a little while, but Lillium gives in, pushes Iris aside (“This omelette is supposed to taste good, Iris, shoo.”), and turns on the lights before starting to cook. The smell of bacon slowly being fried  fills the room, and Iris sits down on the chair, letting his bag fall to the floor with a soft thump. He takes his sketchbook out, shoving the papers on the table away and starting to draw absently, wrinkling his nose at his sloppy sketch. Meh, it’s late, anyway.

After some time, the sound of a plate being set on the table startle him, making him look up. The omelette smells heavenly, and it’s a rich, warm colour; between gold and a murky brown from the mushrooms.

“Here you go, my lord,” Lillium sighs, sitting across from him and holding his head up with his bandaged hands, smiling softly. “Enjoy.”

Wordlessly, Iris glares, fuming, and divides the omelette in two.

Lillium raises his eyebrows.

“We’re supposed to share, idiot,” Iris mumbles, feeling his cheeks heat. “I won’t be the only one eating here.”

“Ooh,” he smirks, “Is this a date, perhaps?”

“I’m leaving - “

“Aw, c’mon, c’mon, stay,” Lillium whines, holding out one of his hands to grab his wrist as he tries to rise from his seat, flushing furiously.

He sits back down, breath coming out in small huffs, “...You’ll get another job, Lillium, okay? Soon you can be the #1 Chef and Begonia will throw a party or something.”

Lillium sticks a forkful of omelette in his mouth, chewing for a moment before answering, “It’s not kind to lie to people who care about you.”

Iris looks at him, slightly annoyed, “I’m not a liar. You won’t be winning any beauty competitions, Mr. White, but you can cook, alright? Stop being all emo, it’s creeping me out.”

“Says the ultimate emo,” Lillium bites back, but his smile seems a little more honest.

“Have you seen your clothes?”

“Have you seen your hair?”

Lillium snorts, “Rude, my hair is fabulous.”

It’s getting late; so much that he’s guaranteed a scolding from the people at the centre, if not being grounded for this weekend. He should really, really go, before they get truly mad and take his sketchbook away. Living alone is much lonelier without his sketchbook.

But, after a short while, when there’s only small bites of the omelette on the plate and Iris has already given up trying to finish it, Lillium’s hand settles over his hesitantly, trembling a little. He says, “Thank you.”

Iris stays.

…

They end up in the bedroom; and it’s one of the few times Iris has ever been inside the place. Despite the fact that Lillium’s lived alone ever since he met him, he’s still got a double bed “for overnight visitors”, or that’s what he claims.

Lillium rests his back against the headboard, and Iris lies down next to him, leaning his head on his shoulder and looking up at the ceiling. He doesn’t protest when Lillium links their hands together, or when he gently nudges closer to him, in a move so terribly unsubtle and telling that it’s almost cute that he seems so nervous.

It’s weird, knowing that Lillium wants him there. Iris can barely manage to cover up his scars with his clothes, he’s a mess in school in almost every subject, he’s dry and sarcastic with people he doesn’t know very well and he’s a guy who likes other guys, possibly at the same time. At first, he thought maybe Lillium wanted to have hook up with him, but, even though the guy can’t have five minutes without an innuendo, he’s never made any move to touch him in a way that’s not reassuring or affectionate, instead of sexual.

“You’re going to regret this so much tomorrow,” Lillium whispers into his hair, his voice giddy. “But I’m milking it.”

Iris sighs dramatically, mock-offended, and moves his head up to kiss his cheek, so quickly he’s not quite sure he’s actually done it. Next to him, Lillium freezes.

“Now, I’m dead,”  he murmurs, and the touch of his lips against his scalp makes him shiver.

“Shut up,” Iris pokes him in the shoulder. “I’m the one who’s going to die when I get back to the fostering centre. If I’m not out in three days, you’ll know I’m not coming back.”

“I’ll have an omelette made in honour of your death,” Lillium teases, and Iris shuts his eyes.

Fin.

[hannah-deserved-better]

Bunker Pack Ch.8

“So let me see if I understand this,” Gabriel leaned against the hotel window while Castiel sat at the table and Hannah perched at the end of the bed. Castiel had just finished filling Gabriel in on the situation both in the apocalypse world and in this world. Gabriel squinted his eyes as if he hadn’t quite absorbed everything. “We have two worlds. In one, my big bro decided to wipe out humans altogether and in the other, it's all going dark upstairs because there are not enough angels?”

“Yes,” Castiel explained. “Which is why we need your help, Gabriel. I know what Asmodeus did was-”

“Yeah hold up,” Gabriel held up a hand. “Let’s not even go there. You don’t know what Asmodeus did to me so don’t bother trying to get all Dr. Phil on me.”

Castiel sighed. He was no stranger to torture. He couldn’t forget the suffering he’d endured in the past, often at the hands of other angels, but he realized that Gabriel, and Hannah, had both been damaged by their torture and although Gabriel seemed to have returned to his usual mischevious self, the damage was still clear in his demeanor.

“I don’t care to save the angels,” Hannah spoke up suddenly after having remained silent up to this point. Castiel wasn’t sure she had even been paying attention. She seemed to have been lost in her own thoughts, sitting there quietly on the bed while he and Gabriel exchanged words. But now, he and Gabriel turned their attention to her.

“Come again, sister?” Gabriel raised a brow.

“I don’t see why we must help the angels,” she repeated, glancing nervously at Castiel before turning back to Gabriel. “Perhaps they are getting what they deserve.”

Castiel sighed and looked at Gabriel who just stared in disbelief. “She’s from the other world, the one where Michael…” he trailed off as Gabriel got the picture. “Raphael, he hurt her. She has no love for her own kind and after her treatment, I can’t say I blame her.”

Hannah just hung her head and stared at her hands in her lap. Gabriel sighed, “Okay, you got my attention,” he said after a long pause. “What’s the plan?”

“We must save the angels,” Castiel replied, glancing at Hannah in sympathy as he did. “In this world. I agree they and I have not seen eye to eye in the past, Naomi in particular.” Castiel shuddered as he remembered Naomi’s torture of him. He caught Hannah’s eye and she recognized that look, she gave him a puzzled expression of her own.

“What did Naomi do to you?” she asked bluntly. “Why does saying her name cause you discomfort?”

“She and I had some… dealings,” Castiel explained. “Unpleasant ones, I’m afraid. If she were not one of the last angels alive, I doubt we would be seeing eye to eye right now.”

“She hurt you?” Hannah guessed. Castiel shrugged and nodded. Hannah looked at him in disbelief. “Then why would you want to help her?”

“Because the angels, despite my past with them, they’re family,” Castiel explained, giving Gabriel a pointed glance. Gabriel rolled his eyes in reply. “And right now, they need me. Need us. It’s the right thing to do, Hannah.”

Hannah shook her head, wincing as if in pain as she turned her focus back to her hands. Castiel looked at Gabriel. “It’s the right thing to do, Gabriel,” he repeated. “Please, brother.”

Gabriel gave a long huff. “Fine,” he said. “I’ve been running long enough, I guess. Look, I kinda sorta have a… bold plan. It’s risky but it might just work.”

“What is it?” Castiel asked eagerly, noting that Hannah turned her attention to Gabriel.

“Remember when Metatron caused a fall?” Gabriel didn’t need to remind Castiel of that, just the mention of it made Castiel bristle with anger towards Metatron.

“How could I forget?” he murmured. If this were the Hannah from this world, she would have remembered too, it was shortly after the fall that she and Castiel had met for the first time, and the friendship that grew between them was still fresh in Castiel’s mind. But this Hannah knew none of it. Yet despite her more timid, cautious outlook, Castiel sensed that perhaps the Hannah he knew before might still exist, perhaps buried under the years of trauma and hardship she’d endured.

“Well… what if we caused another fall?” Gabriel suggested then held up a hand when both angels looked at him incredulously. “I know the angels have to stay up there to keep the lights on and to keep all the souls locked up. But if you remember that when Metatron pulled his little trick, heaven was emptied of angels and nothing happened? It’s because he sort of put it on lockdown. Froze the place down. We could do something similar.”

“But the angels would die,” Hannah replied. “The fall would kill them.”

“Not necessarily,” Gabriel replied. “I know a spell. An elixir I learned from my time hanging with the Norse gods. The ingredients are complicated but if Naomi and her posse drink the elixir, it forms a protective shield around them and they’d survive the fall. The tricky part is what to do with them once they get down here.”

“I’ll get them somewhere safe,” Castiel replied. “If the demons get wind of this, they’ll be more than eager to pick off the last remaining angels in heaven. Sam, Dean, and I will be there to battle them and to protect the angels. Then we’ll lock the angels up somewhere. Somewhere demon proof and angel proof, until we can replenish their numbers, they will stay locked away.”

“Here comes the tricky part,” Gabriel said. “Getting the ingredients for the two spells. The first you already know. To lock out heaven and cause the fall we need a cupid’s arrow hand, an angel’s grace, and the heart of a Nephilim.”

“What about Jack?” Hannah turned to Castiel and Cas was surprised and alarmed she’d suggested it.

“You’ve met Jack?” he asked, raising a brow. Hannah nodded.

“Not personally, but Charlie told us about him. He is Lucifer’s son.”

“He is but he is locked in the apocalypse world and even if he weren’t,” Castiel shook his head, looking at Hannah, feeling disappointed that she’s so casually suggested hurting him. “Jack is important to me, I will not kill him.”

“But he is a Nephilim,” Hannah pointed out. Castiel held up a hand, trying to swallow the rush of anger he suddenly felt. Hannah had no reason to trust him, Jack or anyone else, and it made sense to her, but he couldn’t help but get defensive of Jack, the Nephilim he’d come to see as his own son.

Hannah sighed in defeat and looked down. “There is another Nephilim,” she said, a hint of reluctance in her voice. “In my world. She worked at the camp where Raphael…” she trailed away, pursing her lips tightly, clearly having trouble forming words. “She and I were friends until she betrayed me.”

“Still the tiny problem of getting her here,” Gabriel pointed out. “I don’t have enough mojo to open the rift, but there is someone who does.”

Castiel sighed. “Lucifer,” he groaned. Hannah looked at him with fear, her blue eyes widening with the mention of Lucifer. But Castiel sighed reluctantly. “Alright so we need the ingredients to open the rift, the ingredients to cause a fall of angels, and what about the elixir?”

“That’s another tricky one,” Gabriel explained. “For that one, we need a piece of the arc of the covenant, a mummified locust from the 10 plagues, the blood of an empty vessel, and a werewolf heart.”

“Very well,” Castiel replied. He looked at Gabriel, grateful that the archangel was willing to help with this project. “We will embark on this scavenger hunt and when we return, you will have created a safe house for the angels?”

“Yup,” Gabriel said cheerfully. He turned serious for a moment, “you know there is no guarantee this will all work,” he reminded him. “And if it doesn’t we could be responsible for destroying heaven.”

“I know,” Castiel knew this all to well and he had a sickening feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach concerning what he was going to do. “There is a lot that can go wrong. But we have to try.”

“THere’s one more little favor before I skip out,” Gabriel replied quickly. Castiel nodded.

“Anything,” he said sincerely. Gabriel was willing to risk everything and Castiel was willing to do a favor for him, whatever it might be.

“There’s this girl I know. No one too important,” Castiel narrowed his eyes suspiciously, feeling uneasy about where this was going.

“No porn stars, Gabriel,” he warned. Gabriel held up a hand.

“No nothing like that. Well… not completely. Her name is Annika Cawsand. She lives somewhere in Central California. I just want you to find her for me, when you do, you’ll understand.” Castiel felt uneasy about the cryptic, vague talk Gabriel was using, but he was willing to trust him.

“Sam is in California now,” Castiel replied. “We can go meet up with him and find your friend. I will call him and Dean and somehow, we will gather all the ingredients we need. It may take time.”

“Yeah it will,” Gabriel agreed. “Tell those muttonheads I’ll check up on them. In the meantime, I have an angel fun house to build.” And with that, Gabriel was gone, instantly vanished from the room.

Castiel turned his attention to Hannah. She met his eyes, her pretty blue eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. “We should head to California and meet Sam,” he suggested softly. “I know you will be pleased to leave this city.”

“You truly mean to do this?” she asked, studying him intently. She seemed confused, bewildered by the whole situation. “Just to help the angels? Even if they’ve hurt you?”

“I’d understand if you have reservations,” Castiel replied cautiously. “And I know this is going to cause you discomfort. I regret asking this of you, but if we go to the apocalypse world, I will need your help finding this Nephilim. Will you help me?”

“I don’t know you,” Hannah replied before getting to her feet. Castiel did the same and moved to stand in front of her, focusing his attention on her, locking his eyes with hers, if briefly before she shuttered a little and looked away, squeezing her eyes shut in a wince. “But the Castiel I knew was kind and I got him killed.”

“You mustn’t blame yourself for that,” Castiel insisted, frowning at the way she shook slightly, he worried she was on the verge of another breakdown. He paused, waiting for her to compose herself. “Take deep breaths,” he encouraged. She did so, breathing in and out, and eventually calming, though the wince stayed in her eyes as she opened them to look at him.

“I still don’t want to help the angels,” she admitted. “I can’t forgive them as easily as you can. But… for him- you… I’ll help you, Castiel.”

“I’m grateful,” he told her sincerely. “For your bravery. Come,” he offered her his hand. At first, she hesitated, but remembering the chaos of humans in the hotel, she took it, gripping tight as they headed for the next part of their adventure.