#they'd be disgusted or pity them

[clamorybus]

my white american parents come home after long days of working hard jobs (who's bosses don't care if they live or die), and they sit down and flip channels. they end up watching a Mindless Action Movie about american soliders in the middle east. (of course, the american soliders are humanized and allowed to laugh and cry, whilst the unnamed middle eastern soliders are just faceless canon fodder). my parents didn't even really like the movie, they were just tired of flipping channels. at least a couple of the jokes were funny

yet if a chinese, iranian, or north korean couple do the same exact thing, they would be the brainwashed sheep being fed propaganda, not Good Honest Americans like my parents. because that makes sense

[blackbirdsblackberries]

What do you think of a teenage antihero reader?

Readers are the type of people who like to tease others. Of course, they also like to create chaos.

like:

Batman feels sad because his children are estranged from him.

Reader: *deliberately calls Batman papa in front of the Batkids. makes them jealous and fight to get Batman's love.* "Papa, let me join this mission.", "Papa, pocket money?"

Reader: "I wasn't adopted by Batman. Why do I call Batman papa?" *Looks at the Batkids, who look at Reader with bullet-shaped eyes* "Because it's fun and I get to watch them get jealous but can't do anything to me, haha"

Reader: Spend time with your father and I will handle your affairs. Same old account, transfer the money there. *Accepts to stay away from Batman happily because Batkids will pay Reader*

I love this!

I don't know if this is yandere or not so I'll do overall reactions and you can decide whether they end up yandere or not! (If you want proper yandere then don't be afraid to ask)

At first Dick doesn't mind, in fact he finds it odd - who would want to call Batman "Papa" or any type of name like that? Over time however he'll start to feel an odd pang in his chest, he could've been the teenager calling Bruce that, he could have had a good relationship with Bruce like how you seem to (even if you yourself are pretending). So, he gets huffy and irritable whenever he sees you. He'll find some flaw in what you do and immediately tell everyone and try to make you look bad - you don't care clearly but Dick feels like he's doing something so you pretend, kinda.

Jason at first pities you. He thinks you genuinely mean it, that you genuinely see Batman as a father figure. He's so sure that Batman is going to fail you. That is until it starts getting too much. Jason would of spoken to Roy about it over some drinks and despite what Roy would have said Jason would feel bitter and angry - he could have had that! If he didn't fall for that trap, if Joker didn't kill him, if Bruce - no, Batman, got to him in time. Jason would from then on "accidentally" stumble across missions he wasn't supposed to be there for that you and Batman would be on. He'd flip you off before bantering with Batman - you shrug it off, you don't actually have any interest in Batman being your dad.

Tim is automatically suspicious, you're known for causing chaos and judging by how everyone reacts this is probably just one of your ploys. He doesn't pay much mind but slowly gets peeved at your continuance. Haven't you had your fun already? (no, seeing the reactions of the others makes you continue). Tim digs into your civilian life - he and the others found out about it when you first appeared so as to label you as a threat or not. He'll dig up past mistakes and issues then present them to Bruce and you, subtly taunting you with your past so as to convince you to distance yourself. When you don't he gets petty, you approach Batman - he steps in front of you and blocks your path. You yell out to him - he yells louder. You want to go on a mission - oh no.. Looks like you're swamped with work AND injured :(

Damian is immediately pissed. What are you doing? You shouldn't be pretending that Batman is your father! You aren't blood - hell, you aren't even adopted! Damian, though he's gotten better, is very traditionalist (thanks to his grandfather). What you're doing - along with the chaos you cause in general - is against the proper traditional lifestyle. Is he just using that as an excuse and doesn't actually believe it? yes. Is he going to stop? no. Fuck that. Damian dreams of setting his animals on you, the only thing stopping him is that he doesn't want his poor animals to meet such a disgusting person like you. Instead, he'll stand on your toes, ignore you if you need help, stay close to Batman and try and intimidate you away.

Finally they all would of had enough and would corner you, they'd offer to pay you to stay away and you all would sort out a deal.

It'd confuse Batman as to why you're suddenly keeping your distance while his children are constantly around him. Batman has a soft spot for children - you included. He thought he was fixing you but now you're back to your old habits??? Batman would immediately be onto his children and question them. They don't crack easily so Batman checks their accounts, messages, etc until he gets enough proof that they are the reason you keep away. He's obviously disappointed and ends up trying to talk his way into you becoming one of his full allies - you obviously reject it, you don't actually care for him and prefer to not be stuck on just one side.

The others end up being forced to ask you to join back and you reject them, they threaten you that they'd stop paying you and you laugh - they've given you enough money to last a year, maybe more if you're frugal!

[mattslolita]

teddy bear - m. & c. sturniolo ( 001. )

in which ... after the haunting and fatality of the ghostface killers who made you their final girl, they come back for you.

( ghostface!matt x black!fem!reader x ghostface!chris )

warnings ; death , gore , stalker behavior , possessive behavior , eventual smut , ghostface!matt , stalker!matt , possessive!chris , ghostface!chris , angst , blood & knives , final girl!reader

"𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆��𝒕?"

( ^ this playlist is for the wattpad version of this fic ! if you are interested in reading it, my wattpad is : faerieribs )

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🧸🔪୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🧸🔪୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🧸🔪୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🧸🔪୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

it was as if she was foreign, an alien even — y/n felt aliented to those around her now. it was like as if a switch caused everyone to look at her differently, or rather not at all. she felt like some kind of monster among the normality of everyone.

the only people who y/n did not feel like a stranger to were nicolas and nathan — of course, unfortunately they'd been dragged into what's happened to her even though it was the last thing she expected or wanted to happen.

she was still surprised that marylou even still wanted the girl within vicinity of the remainder of her family — those being nicolas, her husband jimmy, and her oldest son justin who had moved away a while ago. nevertheless, she still treated the girl like the daughter she never had. and y/n felt guilty, because two of her sons were no longer with her due to what she blamed herself for.

but how was y/n supposed to know the horror of what matthew and christopher were capable of?

she inhales deeply as she accidentally squeezes nick's arm too tightly when they arrive at somerville high school — he gives her a reassuring expression, squeezing her hand that was in his.

"i doubt anyone's gonna give you a hard time," nate says to y/n, shrugging his shoulders, "we can always ditch first too, if-"

"nate, you just want an excuse not to go to class," y/n laughs dryly, causing the boy to roll his eyes playfully. sure it wasn't the best laugh she could muster, but nate still liked the sound.

"we're right here with you," nick reminds y/n, as they walk towards the front of the school. "if they stare, i'll stare right the fuck back."

"thank you," y/n says quietly.

there's already students milling around the school, most people just waiting for classes to start. they're scattered about the area, gossiping and talking aimlessly. but y/n could already sense it before it happened — as if on cue, heads turned when the three of them begin to slowly make their way towards the front entrance.

people stare. 

y/n wants to hide out under a rock, because she can't take the looks of either pity or disgust she received. she swallowed thickly as she tried to ignore the people icing her out, but y/n could feel her hands become clammy as she walked on. she felt like a zombie walking amongst the living.

"i can't believe she came back," someone whispers, staring the girl down, "and how are they still friends with her?"

nick's head is quick snap towards the girl's direction, and he gives her a cold glare that causes her to zip her lips as the three continue to walk inside of the school grounds. thankfully enough, not many people seemed to be occupying the lockers which bianca was assigned to, so the three of them hurriedly made their way towards it.

"i swear i was seconds away from punching that junior's nose," nate said, shaking his head as he looked at y/n, "this is gonna get old really fuckin' fast."

"i don't think i'll ever get used to it," y/n says bitterly, opening her locker. she took out her books needed for her first four classes, then she shoved her bag into it. "guys i don't think we ever went over our schedules."

"oh fuck, i forgot about that," nick says, reaching for his paper inside of his bag, "here's mine."

nate fishes his own out of his backpack, then the three of them hold theirs up to each other — great. y/n only shares her third period with nate, then her fifth and sixth with nick. she frowns at her elective on her paper : she was a cheerleader. last year, y/n would see matt and chris at practice whilst she and her squad went over new routines or even old ones, and she remembered when they would chat when they took breaks. a gulp rode down her throat as tears almost prick her eyes at the memory, but she forces it to the back of her mind.

the inside lockers start to fill up, and y/n could feel multiple eyes on her as they're passing by her. it's almost time for the bell to rang, but y/n wishes that she could just hide in the bathroom for the rest of her senior year — no need in sitting in seven classes a day filled with people who would inevitably never look at her the same way.

she would never stop blaming herself for what happened on october thirty first of last year.

the bell rang, and y/n knew it was time to face reality unfortunately — nate gives her an apologetic smile as he shoves his schedule back in backpack.

"remember to text me y/n/n, i'll be down," nate reminds her, and she chuckles lightly as he gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "i'll see you guys later."

nick turns to y/n, his gaze concerned as he looks over her. "you're gonna be okay? you sure you don't want me to switch any of my classes?"

"absolutely not, nick," y/n says sternly, "if you switch anything it'll probably fuck up photography and i'm not risking it."

"bitch i'm like the only person in it," nick reminds her, causing her to grin and let out a small giggle. "but if you say so."

"i promise i'll be fine," y/n tells her best friend with a nod of confirmation, "i don't need to be babysat."

"you know i'm not trying to do that," nick said with raised eyebrows, "i just wanna make sure people don't make you uncomfortable."

"they'll do it regardless," y/n laughs bitterly, "i'll text you if i need you, okay?"

"you better," nick says, giving her a pointed look before pulling her into a quick hug, "love you, see you later."

"love you too," y/n tells him, and he gives her one last smile before he walks in the opposite direction.

she inhales a deep breath as she starts walking in the direction of her first class of the day — nobody's giving her a break. she receives so many looks and she has the urge to just tell everyone to fuck themselves, because they didn't know the half of it. the permanent image burned into her psyche forever, they didn't have even an inkling of a fucking clue.

the universe must've completely had it out for her, because her first class was trigonometry — oddly enough, she usually loved math. it was one of her strongest subjects. but then memories of helping chris with anything math related plagued her mind, and she accidentally remembered a day in specific and it made her want to throw up when she remembered the exact date.

a few students had already sat down in their seats, and as soon as y/n walked in everyone's eyes shot up towards her. she tries to ignore the lingering stare from a junior who has a sneer on his face as she sits in the spot closest to the window, not bothering to look around her.

instead, she looks outside towards the corridor with her hand under her chin, surveying the small huddle of a few students as they sit along the brick wall. it reminds her of her old group, and how they used to spend their free period enjoying each other's company.

a tear almost threatens to escape y/n's eyes until the loud ring of the final bell snaps her back into reality — when she turns around, she sees the three seats on either sides of her are all unoccupied, as if everyone has chose to purposely avoid her. very few people give her a pitiful expression, but it does nothing to help the blossoming feeling of dread that lingers in her chest as she slumps down in her seat.

the teacher, mr. christensen quickly hushes the chatter coming from the students, whilst y/n remains quiet and instead looks towards the man with a dull expression painting her features. "good morning class, i'm mr. christensen. i taught p.e. last year so some of you might remember me. i see a few new faces though, so welcome to trigonometry."

y/n remembers mr. christensen and the welcoming speech he gave last year, so she allows herself to tune out of it as she stares ahead blankly. unfortunately for her, her mind wanders back to the memory of how things were.

before halloween of last year. 

she longed for things to go back to how they were before, but she knew that would never be possible. all she could do was blame herself continuously for allowing herself to be fooled into thinking they could be innocent.

the dark, crimson blood that stained their faces as sadistic smiles painted the once innocent expressions...

but were they ever really innocent in the first place?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 

at the end of trig, mr. christensen had pulled y/n to the side to talk to her about the resources the school provides as far as counselors are concerned. of course she didn't want to be rude, so she just smiled meekly and thanked the man, but her honest opinion? no amount of counseling could help y/n help to forget all that's happened to her.

she texted nate to meet her in the hallway at her lockers before they got to their third period, which was spanish II — they both took it together last year, and both were grateful since they pretty much helped each other out.

as y/n walks down the hallway towards her locker, it seems like people are staring at her now more than ever. she inhales deeply as she continues, looking ahead of her to spot her locker. she does, but there's a small crowd gathered around it when she gets even closer.

when they see y/n getting closer as she approaches them, they disperse quickly. when y/n finally reaches her locker, she lets out a small gasp at blood red, capitalized letters that are spray painted in graffiti on her grey locker,

FINAL GIRL.

her eyebrows furrow before she hangs her head in defeat — in hindsight, there was a chance that whoever put this was probably right; it was almost as if she was kept alive to retell the story, to live it down for the rest of her life.

"who the fuck did it?" nate's voice booms angrily as he reaches y/n, looking around at the people as y/n is reluctant to tear her eyes away from her locker. "you alright, y/n/n?"

"i'm fine," y/n answers dryly, her voice barely above a whisper as her throat runs dry. she nods her head, but still cannot tear her eyes away from the letters that stare so boldly at her.

"i'm gonna ask again, who the fuck wrote this?" nate asks people who still continue to watch.

he receives a few 'no's', but not an answer he's satisfied with yet, until a sophomore steps up towards the two shakily, looking back and forth in between y/n and nate. "um, i saw it when i went to the bathroom during second period. i didn't see who wrote it. i'm sorry that they did."

y/n turns to the sophomore girl, giving her a genuine small smile as she nods to her. "thank you for telling me."

"of course," the girl says, this time her voice is softer and more prominent. y/n searches her face for any type of sarcasm, but she finds nothing but a pure sweetness within her. 

"somebody did this while everybody was in class, then," nate concludes, turning to face y/n, "should we tell the principal about this? you know he said if anyone bothered you or-"

"actually nate, it's okay," y/n tells him, looking at him as she lets out a sigh. "if we're being honest, people are gonna say shit no matter what. so i don't really care about this."

"are you sure?" nate asks her once more, his expression laced with concern. y/n hated it.

"i swear i am," y/n tells him again, "now can we get to class? you know how ms. murphy gets when anyone's late to her class."

"remember in the first quarter last year when i was late that one time and she made me do two puzzles with spanish adverbs?" nate recalled, and for the first time that day, she lets out a real giggle at the memory.

"we were up till almost eleven that night because you bribed me with money," y/n snorts, as the two begin to walk down the hallway. "you're gonna have to start figuring this shit out on your own, nate."

"yeah yeah kid, i know," nate says, shaking his head.

kid.

the nickname rang in her head, taking her way back to the night everything changed.

( lilly's corner 💌 )

this was supposed to posted AFTER i hit 2k on here, but i already hit 2k on wattpad and i'm impatient so ☺☺☺☺☺ shoutout to my angel @mattluvr u were one of the first to see😝

the way i just basically changed out y/n & the oc's name for the wattpad version...ANYWAY ! hope y'all enjoy this fic ! lots of love to you, muah. 💌

[loveandleases]

Tormenting Chris and Jade submission for balance: I forgot to ask how they'd react to the poly route with Kara X Isaac. Chris's desire to love and support Kara in direct opposition to their desire to judge any dynamic with Isaac--

Love having some balance. (Called for a scenario so rest will be under the cut!)

Chris taps along their phone, their finger hovering just above the screen, caught between pressing and not pressing, between action and restraint. One name. One person their mind refuses to release. They can still see your face clearly; hear the way their name sounds when it leaves your lips. Their expression is taut, posture rigid as they scan the apartment around them—pristine, perfect, just like their life used to be. Until you came into it.

A scoff escapes their lips as they run a hand through their icy-blonde hair. How typical, they think, people stirring up trouble, thinking Chris cares what you do.... How did they even know? Is it in their face? In the way their thoughts creep in, reminding them of what was lost—or what, no, who, they tossed aside?

Jade’s voice rings in Chris’s ears, the memory of her words sharp and biting: “MC was always so hard to please, always unsatisfied despite everything our parents had given them. Since they couldn’t have you, they settled for Kara. Isaac was just the cherry on top—a person with a jaded past that they could take pity on. Along for the ride, because everyone knows the rumors about Isaac. Never staying with someone for too long unless they get bored.”

Their jaw tenses as their eyes linger on the photo laid out on the coffee table—your smile, a smile they hadn't seen in so long. You give it so freely, so easily. To Isaac and Kara of all people. One on either side of you, Kara’s lips close to your ear, whispering something while Isaac’s hand rests casually on your knee. Isaac was never good enough to be friends with Kara, not after everything Chris learned. They deserve to be with you even less. The number of times they’ve seen their hand roam on people’s bodies…they shouldn’t be touching you so freely. So openly. Where people can see, where Chris can see.

The photo cuts deeper than Chris anticipated, and before they can stop themselves, their fingers are already dialing Kara’s number. Their leg begins to shake with annoyance, the phone ringing louder than their pulse. Kara always picked up quickly—never more than three rings. So why isn’t she now? Was there always something there? Was there something going on behind the scenes?

Were the two of you… no, Kara wouldn’t do that to me. You wouldn’t do that to me.

Kara finally answers, her voice groggy with sleep. “Hello?��

Chris freezes. It’s four in the morning. They’d spent the whole night obsessing, thinking about the three of you—disgusting.

Chris opens their mouth to speak, but the sound of Isaac’s groan and your voice cuts through the silence. “Who is it?”

The question makes their blood run cold. You’re both there? Why are you with her?

“Chris?” Kara’s voice breaks through their thoughts, sharp and concerned.

“Tell me this is a joke.” Chris’ voice cracks, disbelief flooding their words. They force out a thin, bitter laugh. “This is a joke, isn’t it, Kara?”

“Chris, how di—”

“Let me talk to them.”

“Wh—who?”

“Let me talk to my fiancé.”

The line grows quiet, and Chris can’t help but imagine the look that passes over the three of you.

“Former fiancé,” Isaac adds, a cool edge to his voice, as Kara reluctantly hands you the phone.

“Why are you with them?” Chris’s voice is quieter now, rawer, the reality of it all begins to settle in.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Another scoff. Chris’s anger surges, bubbling up and threatening to spill over. “Of course it’s my business. You’re my f—” They stop themselves, letting the word die on their tongue.

A heavy sigh escapes them as they lean back against the couch. “You’re my ex-fiancé. Do you realize how this looks? Fucking my little sister and her friend. After everything, this is how you repay me?”

“This has nothing to do with you. Who I’m with is none of your concern, Chris. Kara might be your sister, but you don’t own her, or me, for that matter.” Your words are sharp, almost like a smack to the face.

Chris’s fingers twitch, plucking at the photo until the three of you are separated—tearing you apart. “And Isaac, what? You just had to bring the trash with you, Kara? It’s not bad enough you’re sharing a bed with my ex, but now you’ve got your friend, too?” Isaac was never good enough to be friends with Kara. Especially once Chris had their background looked into. No, they don’t deserve Kara and they deserve you even less.

“Stop it, Chris.”

Despite the tightness in her chest, the guilt she carries, Kara can’t bring herself to yell. Not yet. “Don’t talk about them, about us, like you know what’s going on. You don’t know anything about it. We’re happy. I’m happy.” Her voice cracks, and for a moment Chris feels a feeling in their gut. One they’re afraid to give a name, because why should Chris Clarke feel guilty? “Isn’t that enough?”

It should be. Chris knows that deep down, under all the anger, the pain, and the jealousy, they should be happy for Kara. She found people who love her. But that gnawing feeling inside them won’t let go. The more they try to bury it, the more it consumes them. They can’t shake the feeling that you’re slipping further away—both of you.

For a long moment, they just sit there, lost in their thoughts. Kara hangs up the phone, but it doesn't stop the storm inside them from raging. Their words tumble out, raw and desperate. “You deserve better than that. Better than them. Aren’t I enough?” They know who the questions are for, and the thought alone sickens them.

[romcomeon]

❝ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆. . . ❞

╰┈➤ THEY'RE MY EVERYTHING... | HEADCANON POST

question : "Can a demon possess loyalty?" AKA demon brothers vs people trying to pry their way into their relationships.

pairing.s : Lucifer x MC, Mammon x MC, Leviathan x MC, Satan x MC, Asmodeus x MC, Beelzebub x MC, Belphegor x MC [all separately]

note : my first try on headcanons! or, honestly, posting my headcanons. These are just little sillies I thought of while listening to the first part of "There Are Other Ways" and I want to explore more on it. Sure we get snippets of the brothers rejecting people in the game, but I wanted to look more into it. So, here we are!!

In our story, let's put the brothers in a simple experiment.

It's a common belief that unfaithfulness is linked to a demon's trickery. So much so that many partners caught in the act would blame the devil's work. "A Temptress" they'd speak, ridiculing both parties. As much as the act of sin contributes to their power, would they so much as indulge in such?

HOWEVER. . .

It's also a common principle to fuel your own power. As people of status, you'd care for your the fuel of your strength, wouldn't you? In the end, it's all trickery. It's all just a tempting vice. It was only temporary. Although, even then, there seem to be exceptions to the rule. No matter the amount of mock temptation, they remain the one thing contradicting the premise of their power: loyalty.

LUCIFER ; "It's disgusting how you even thought of trying."

Excuse you? He's offended by that question.

Let's ignore his position of giving Diavolo his absolute loyalty — these are two completely separate cases.

Although yes it falls into grey areas that overlap with one another, though what's the change?

Demon Prince aside, Lucifer is utmost loyal to his beloved lamb. It was simply equal in priority.

In fact, he takes pride in his love for you no matter what others suggest. He's a private man, he doesn't need his relationships to take center stage.

Oh sure he's not as affectionate as he is behind closed doors, but does it equate to anything else? He belongs to you as much as you belong to him. His.

Anything less was pitiful, a stung at his pride. Settling for someone who doesn't meet the standard of his beloved is such a sad, sad thought...

You'd be delusional to think he'd do that.

So when he went on as an escort for an all-powerful witch, watching them all doe-eyed and fawning over him, Lucifer couldn't catch a break.

Convincing him to drop everything with his lamb and start anew is on the same plane as Solomon trying to make a pact with the avatar.

You'd be correct to say that the answer was impossible.

The audacity of this vixen is palpable. Perhaps even admirable.

Lucifer would immediately dismiss their actions. He doesn't have the time to engage with others — much less someone testing his patience.

He'd go and talk them out of it, making his feelings clear.

The quicker he's out of this ordeal, the better. What a bother... he wished he could ask for a more tolerable person.

Those pet names and whistles mean nothing to him, as he continues to walk away. If they follow him then he'd give them a well-deserved scolding. If he's feeling particularly stressed that day, then whoever witnesses the cardinal display ought to keep their mouth shut.

We wouldn't want any issue now, do we?

As soon as that's dealt with, Lucifer grabs his DDD. After all, don't ignore the message that orders you to come to his study later that night.

It's a stress relief; more or less.

MAMMON ; "What's ya deal? Yer getting on my nerves.."

Was that even a question? Are you challenging him, babe?

Ya better put more trust in yourself if you think the GREAT Mammon's going to be replacing you; hell he doesn't care if it's for a one-night stand.

His type consists of you. YOU.

And he's a greedy demon. Very much so. As soon as his sky-blue eyes lock their gaze on any precious item he wants, it's over. Much like the inherent nature, being greedy for a particular item allows someone to disregard everything else.

Yes yes it's bad for a mortal but does it even matter? You're his only for as much as he is yours. Your first.

When out at the Fall, Mammon would get the occasional flirts and staring. Honestly, it's an ego booster, plus, he's a model so can ya really blame them?

But when one particular candidate steps too far and tries to get passed his comfort zone... well...

This wasn't entertaining at ALL.

Though he really swears to his father. This bitch...

It was annoying. Very fucking damn annoying.

Hello? Are they deaf? He said he's not interested. They'd think they're better than his dear treasure? Pft-- a turd among diamonds. No more than a lowly piece of shit that will never do garbage justice.

If it's just the talking stage, then Mammon would just scoff and walk it off. He's impolite? Stop wasting the Great Mammon's plans, will ya?

The words that escape that bitch's lips were really ticking Mammon's desire to punch them in the face as a warning.

Instead, what he does is strain their ego. While pushing them away he goes on and about how you were just as GREAT as himself. He sees himself as having no partner other than you.

E..er- of course you don't find out! You'll never do... [You eventually did]

If things ever do get physical, then... Sorry darling. The Devildom was the last place you'll ever be shown mercy.

And don't mind if he goes clinging onto you as soon as he's back at HoL. His hugs are tighter than usual? No it isn't. Stop, you're hallucinating.

It's merely a reminder of how in a world of foolery he's struck gold. You're his jackpot and losing you to someone of lower value is...

Alright, quick, calm him down. Reward him, won't you? You don't have to, but he'll be happier.

LEVIATHAN ; "It's stupid, OK!? Can't even fucking aim .."

Him? Are you serious?

He can't even properly make eye contact with someone for the life of him and you expect him to even think of flirting back at others?

You give him too much credit that it makes him blush. Like- It's- well... actually is like (un)holy jeez you're adorable for that.

"But what if they want to be his duo partner?"

It's not very poggers of you to say that.

You're his only friend on Nekopets that he sends gifts to, if anything HE should be the one worrying about others flirting with you.

Levi swears that you're too good for this world.

But you know better. The otaku rarely sees how his classmates are probably crushing on him since he's only been focused on his syntax error self-esteem. Gamer boys are all the rage, especially a cute one that just so happens to be one of the lords of anime hell so...

Yes, he has experienced them. He was less than amused, wanting to just shy away locked up in his room --- preferably with you so that he can game all night, watch anime, and board games are up, yeah? Away from all the normies? That's the life.

The ones that do get annoying are those who flirt with him online. Like, oh, that's a new level of ew.

Like, excuse you? Are you really flirting with him on VC while he [and the other league members] are actually trying to defeat the enemy team?

It gets worse when the person acts like they no nothing about the game, or have a purpose sloppy gameplay in hopes that "dEaR lEv1aChAn WoUlD cArRy ThEm"

Ya know what's sexier? Actually playing the game you—

—well, that trash-talking aside, clearly he's off-limits. He'll even go as far as ranting about it in whatever group chat comes first. It goes especially worse when it causes him to lose focus/his MVP streak.

He has then never played online for a week after that encounter.

It is less likely to happen face-to-face out in the open, and he'll very much express discomfort.

But if the beloved snake boy texts you to come to his room all lowercase with a period? Be there and don't forget to bring snacks.

And a charger, because you'll stay there for a long time.

SATAN ; "Mercy? Oh, I'll make you beg for mercy..."

You got to be fucking kidding him.

The mere thought of someone even thinking of taking him away from his dear sends his blood boiling.

What's that? Do they think a mere act of seduction is enough? Pathetic.

He already knows what he's gonna do, would you ever prefer an option ranging from "immobilized" to "dead beyond repair".

It's all a sum of deathly solutions, but can you blame him? He sees no one but you who is capable of showing him the light in this darkness.

And so whenever he gets reminded of the thought, be sure to be there at his side.

Hold him, talk to him, in your room or anywhere where you're both away from the peering eyes of the world. Your presence alone is enough to satiate whatever wrath urges to burst out of his system.

You're the only one who makes him truly satisfied, and there's no one else. You should be grateful that he even lets you near his vicinity without being reduced to blood and ashes.

The threats aren't as serious when it comes to you.

So in this case where he was enjoying his leisure time alone, he was then approached by someone.

When they started talking it did irk him. 'Don't you have someone else to annoy?' would be his first thought.

Yet things do get worse when things escalate.

This person has some audacity to flirt with him while he is taken.

Asking him out in the library was one thing, but peering over him? Practically pinning him to the shelves?

How improper of them.

While it looks like he doesn't care at all for the other's actions, even so far as to seemingly reciprocate their feelings [which, honestly, really? dream harder], Satan had felt something fuming inside of him.

It was taking him a lot of willpower to not just outright lunge at the person's throat and make them regret every single word that escaped their mouth.

To maintain decency, Satan had also ratted them off for their actions. While sounding oddly polite, one could hear the anger in his tone. All flat and sounding like a mockery.

When it starts getting physical, that's where the Avatar of Wrath draws the line. The already paper-thin line was shattered to pieces as the surroundings get just a bit darker.

How foul their words were, and as how Satan would phrase it: disgusting.

Any nearby demon would go and lock the library as silently as they could. No one would dare become the fourthborn's next victim.

Some can say how the harsh threats turn into incoherent growls, as the screams draw quieter...

They'd hope they'd be lucky enough to just crawl out of this room permanently mute after the next few hours.

ASMODEUS ; "Sorry darling but this doll isn't for playtime."

[GASP] How rude~!

Real talk, he is MOSTLY the reason why we're having this discussion in the first place.

An oh, darling, if only the answer was just as simple.

You see, Asmo here has found a sweet grey area on all of this. Of course, his sin partially drives the force of desire towards himself.

As much as the Avatar of Lust adored the attention he gets from fans. they're nothing more than that. All the #asmobabies out there are nothing but his fans.

He likes to put on a show, he likes to play pretend; flirting back to get a cute reaction or blowing a kiss to hear the masses squeal.

Though, play close attention --- it's all an act. Half of these sweet compliments are empty calories.

Asmodeus is a showman, yearning for the world to have all eyes on him, and he loves it that way. He himself knows it's an act because at the end of it all was his heart tied to his one and only biggest fan.

Of course it's you!! Aren't you just the cutest? It's too cruel to disagree!!!

Though let's push him in the experiment anyway. Just because you embody all of lust doesn't suddenly mean you're a master of "no feelings necessary".

What a lucky day! One of his fans fiercely goes up at him as they're both isolated at the back of the RAD building.

Aww... how adorable...~

Indulging and using his sin against him? Someone's rather naughty.

Like the other occurrences, he'll tag along. That's right, boo, all doe-eyed for his captivating presence. Chant him praises --- he's heard half of those over a lifetime, honey~!

Oh? We're feeling a bit creative now, are we? Whoops! Distances, baby!

Hand on his waist? Peering over his shoulder? Whispering to him in a low tone? Asking him out for a drink?

Ah if this wasn't any least bit entertaining then Asmo would roll his eyes at them. This was practically the classic Asmo fan bingo [homewrecker edition].

To all that, Asmodeus looks at them with a mischievous smirk. Taunting them to move closer, maybe even grabbing their chin in the process... and what does he do...?

His gaze darkened amidst his sweet tone. All remnants of seduction in his voice were replaced with a playfully dangerous tone. It was a mystery on whatever did the Avatar of Lust said, but a few witnesses have commented on how it was one of the hottest scariest moments they have ever heard.

Anyhow~! That's just the final trick! Most of them back off as soon as Asmo starts singing sweet praises for his dearest!

Seriously, it just made him want to be even more affectionate with you.

BEELZEBUB ; "I appreciate your feelings, but it's a no."

At first, he probably hadn't heard the question, too busy munching down some food in your company.

He looks down at you with a confused glint in his eyes.

Okay? He acknowledges their feelings, but his heart already belongs to someone.

He has dealt with a lot of admirers in his many years. Look at him, tall, kind, one of the powerful lords of the realm, and also athletic? He practically hits the jackpot.

Most of the time they were equally as nice, understanding how the glutton won't ever return their feelings.

Though seriously, he gives the aura of a heartbreaker.

Beel has never realized how many hearts he's broken. The kindest rejections oftentimes are the ones that hurt most.

As far as the others go, he's more respectful when dismissing others' advances. A simple word, no questions asked, and you're good to go.

An example of it was when someone, probably a person he talked to once at RAD, approached him after one of his Fangol practices.

He vividly recalls them clutching onto a reddish-orange envelope, their face was very red.

Okay so the person offered to be his new partner -?? That was weird. They went on this weird tangent on how they'd cook him meals for eternity, offer water on all his games, and just overall blurted their heart out.

Beel was surprised. It's not every day that you get confessed to, and there was more in the letter? Should he be... glad? Would that be wrong?

Though as soon as they got too touchy for comfort that's where the orange-haired golden retriever jolted out a "No!"

He explained to them how he was not interested in this relationship, and that he was more than content with his current status. And with his precious pumpkin pie.

Though that person never stopped, leaning over desperately chattering out how they were better than that coltish human and it was..?

Let's just say that when he heard your voice calling his name from afar, he pushed the person away.

He was mad, but even then he apologized before running off to his sweetest. Hell's Kitchen? Beel was practically salivating at the mouth.

It was an odd story.

BELPHEGOR ; "I've already told you. Now scram."

Simple: Are ya the human? No? Fuck off.

That's a wrap, we can now end it here.

No one dies.

He barely even interacts with anyone so what gives? Do you pity him? He doesn't think so.

Alright, ugh, I'll give you a proper answer... You owe him at least a night's worth of cuddles for this.

You're one of the only exceptions. Be glad.

It doesn't get simpler than "Is this his cuddle bug or some asshole?" and it works 100% of the time.

Belphie doesn't get as much amount of these "harassments" as his brothers. He cares for very few people to even notice anyone gawking eyes at him.

But once he does notice, he sighs.

He knows it's his fault.

Therefore he initiates one of the few actions he's a master at while not requiring as much energy: ignoring people.

What? If ya aren't talking back then they'll just give up.

That was how most of those times went.

Like that pitiful moment when someone just kept going on while Belphie works on something else [sleep] without a care in the world.

Seriously, how long was this?

Belphie interfered when things were getting physical. And EVEN THEN he still looked up at him, infuriatingly annoyed, while flatly saying "Can you shut up? I'm trying to concentrate. Now, scram."

After that no one ever dared to confess to the avatar of Sloth while he was asleep.

Maybe if he is awake? Good luck with that.

If there's even a millisecond where he isn't in your close proximity.

ADDITIONAL A/N: I apologize [not] for how unserious half of these were :sob: But woo! First official post on this account! Can't wait to see what comes in the future. Oh, and, lemme know what you think! Do you agree? Do you have different scenarios? Are they a bit OOC or do they fit perfectly with the character? Let me know!! <33

divider/s by @/cafekitsune | artwork by NTT Solmare

[yawnderu]

i can't stop thinking about all the gross things every kortac member would do if they got their pretty puppy girl a gag that keeps her mouth open. her drool getting over their gloves when they stuff their fingers into her mouth and how they'd tease her for being so silly she just won't take the gag off with her own hands (when she was actually just trying to be the best most polite good girl. how dare they!!!)

The KorTac men are disgusting, filthy bastards who have no honor as soldiers :(( it's no one's fault that a pretty, dumb thing like you was sold to them by your previous owner, so well-trained and obedient, always wanting to make them proud just to get a few pitiful headpats. <333

They're completely shameless, stuffing you full of thick, meaty cocks until you're nothing but a whimpering mess, feeling all the rough soldiers mess you up for any other man :((((

They're such filthy savages, buying an o-ring mouth gag to keep your pretty lips parted, thrusting in and out of your pathetic little mouth and ultimately cumming all over your dumb face, not letting you wash it off until they think you deserve a shower.<3

[jaetyun]

your biggest fan.

04. rodrick heffley

wc: roughly 1.4k ish

"my arms hurt"

"your arms always hurt" your insistent whines only prove to make eunseoks jaw tick in annoyance, wanting nothing more than to take the luggage in his hands and throw it at your face until you fall backwards. it would really funny too, he notes. "plus, you're the one that said you'd help in any way you could."

"i know i said that but i was thinking like, hanging out with anton in his studio all day" you huff, stopping halfway through the hallway to do a small hop, an attempt to readjust the box in your hands. "why'd i get the heavier shit? you literally work out" you're met with a teasing shrug, eunseok opening the door and holding it for you in a small token of pity. rather than a thank you, you reply with scrunching your face, sticking your tongue out in childish rebellion.

the two of you have been packing up the essentials in the house that doubled as their practice and resident hangout spot. the rest would be on the way eventually, though you were sure eunseok had sent them on random errands to delay the inevitable: you seeing sohee and wonbin.

it's not like you hadn't all hung out in this very house countless times, this being your childhood home eunseok inherited once college started. you've spent most of your formative years on the same couch you could spot even from outside the house (where you currently stood, box still in hands from being lost in thought and forgetting how heavy it is), watching a movie the boys had picked purely to watch your discomfort. when you weren't watching a movie, sometimes they'd sneak into the liquor cabinet, not allowing you to leave until you had tried some with them. or maybe the fonder memories were when they weren't being mean to you, like karaoke nights or when you watched them practice with the makeshift drums and guitar they had. the practices they had now were much more professional and definitely sounded better, but it was undeniable you were far more fond of the ones before they got big, back when their biggest problem was learning how to read music.

you were startled back to reality by eunseok finally having remorse, snatching the box from your hand and placing it carefully with the other necessities you were storing on the porch for easier delivery when shotaros big ass truck got there. you mumbled a thanks, crunching and releasing your fingers in tandem now that they're finally free, watching your brother silently nod before walking back inside first. he's definitely gotten softer since middle and high school, and the terrorizing brother who used your misery as entertainment had faded with puberty.

"i'm hungry" your complaining starts up again, following into the kitchen where you make a dramatic display of your tragedy by laying down on the island table. eunseok scoffs, placing a water bottle next to you mid tantrum. "the guys will be back in like 20 minutes with food, you can survive." at the reminder, you turn around so you're now on your stomach, swaying your feet in the air with a grin. your brother stares at you for a second, a mix of judgment and disgust overtaking his face. "dont go ignoring everyone else when he gets here. especially sohee, you barely glance his direction at this point. it's honestly really depressing to watch"

your eyebrows raise at this, glancing at your brother suspiciously. "you want me to pay attention to sohee? what did he bribe you with to get you to say that" you sigh out, fidgeting with the water bottle cap while speaking.

"you've known him longer, he misses his friend." he walks over, pinching your cheeks to coo at you before you're swatting his hand away. "eugh! i dunno what's infected your brain to be asking me to hang out with sohee when normally i'm not allowed in a 10 foot radius of your friends. need me to babysit him or something?" he rolls his eyes, taking a seat in one of the chairs while you still sat stomach down, your head now resting on your crossed arms. "he's not even the youngest. i just think you shouldn't be so googoo gaga over wonbin, it's weird."

as if on queue, the door swung open, bag of greasy fast food in antons hand while he did a sing song hum to signify he's home.

"yn get off the island! you're gross germs are gonna get on the food" shotaro nags, walking toward you while you slowly shuffle off. "you'd love it if you had my cooties, it'd the first time a woman gave you anything-" eunseok covers your mouth with his hand, using the momentum to push you back so he could take a peak inside the to-go bags. he made quick work of it, taking the wrapped burgers and handing it out to the regular buyers of that item.

once you got your requested order, you glanced at sohee, the words your brother said ringing in your head. looking around, you spotted wonbin after, eyes softening and feet about to work on autopilot before you blinked yourself back to reality. sohee was in the corner of the kitchen, resting against the counter seemingly in his own world. looking back at wonbin, it was clear he was occupied talking to anton while they surveyed the drinks and messed with them inside the carrier. after pausing for a moment, your feet begun to move again, walking toward the person you'd rather talk to.

"heehee" you hum, walking over to sohee who was inspecting his burger. he gave you a nod, a smile etching on his face even if his gaze immediately returned to the burger. "is it true you miss your ex bestie?" you tease, hands under your chin to frame your face while batting your eyelashes. he snickers, deciding to dismiss the burger entirely and now focusing on you. he nods in confirmation, the cheeky smile still on his face. "we never hang out anymore, alone or in a group"

your pose drops, sticking a tongue out at him. "well that's your fault for homie hopping to my brother" wonbin walks over to where you guys stood in the kitchen, drink in one hand while the other slides onto the counter next to sohee. "why're you guys hiding from us?" although it's clear there's humor in his voice, he gives sohee an unreadable expression before sohees rolling his eyes, gesturing to you. "she came over here to pick on me." your eyes widened, scared of making a bad impression on wonbin and him viewing you as anything other than the alluring gentle girl. "not true!" there sohee goes, setting operation loverboy back 15 steps.

"oh. well then leave him alone yn" you nod dumbly, an apologetic smile on your face. he returns the smile before turning back to sohee. "we're loading the truck right now, we could use the extra hands" he gives sohee, who is now also exchanging an expression you can't quite place, a hardy pat on his forearm before swiftly exiting. sohee sighs, taking one last bite out the mostly untouched burger before looking back at you. "well i'm glad you decided to join us on tour, i dunno about anyone else know i missed your company. make sure to say hi to shotaro and anton too" he finishes, now sliding off the counter and rolling up his sleeves while walking toward the front door. watching all the boys pile out, you sat there wordlessly. this was the first time you were truly gonna be surrounded by the band and only the band, and though you were more than happy to spent most of your time with wonbin it soon sunk in how everyone else would be there too. sohee seemed more excited to see you than even hiyyih, who was the president of your fanclub. shotaro and anton were the same as ever, adding to the group what the other three lacked in high school perfectly. though you joined purely for your quest with wonbin, it soon became clear this trip was about a lot more than you trying to win over your lover boy. it wasn't until your phone dinged that you had snapped back to reality, hand automatically going to your pocket to reply.

previous - masterlist - next

since your brother formed a band with his friends in high school, you've had a massive crush on the aloof and reserved wonbin. him never paying you mind never bothered you until they became famous, and now you have to share him with every other fangirl. now that they're on tour, it's the perfect opportunity to make wonbin realize he doesn't want to share you either.

taglist @jvngw0nlvr @tocupid @seunghancore @molensworld @starwonb1n @yizhoutv @yipyipmorals @gyehyeonist @icewons @renjuneoo @soobiverse @fae-renjun @nujeskz @woonagi-lemon @miy-svz @binoyu @ricecakeslove @i03jae @meowbini @https-yeonjun @snowyseungs @p-d1ddy @saranghoeforanton @secretiny @aloverga @potatosoulp1h @dimplewonie @taroddori i @suzayaaa @brachioswrld @flaminghotyourmom @haowonbins @kyusqult

[nqueso-emergency]

Given their reaction to basic criticism, we now know for sure that if Bestie Boos had to deal with even the smallest fraction of what BT fans have over the last 6 months, they'd be storming the ABC building.

This is a group of people who got what they wanted and they're still all miserable and insufferable about it. I'd pity them, but I lost my ability for bestie boo compassion somewhere between the third CSA fic and the 15th fetishist allegation.

Preach anon.

Imagine a certain tiktok star got even ONE of the disgusting asks I've gotten about my mom only about their relative who passed.

Completely uncalled for.

[kaylinelizabeth4004]

Heaven is Here

SYNOPSIS: Through many fleeting moments throughout history with a strange woman, Aziraphale and Crowley learn they accidentally trapped a human soul to Earth, stuck to reincarnate forever.

TAGS: Aziraphale x Crowley x Reader, fluff, slight angst, soulmate au (on accident), history, historical settings, no beta we die like men

WORD COUNT : 12,253

A/N: This fic is kind of accidental. I’ve always been more about Aziraphale/Crowley in this fandom than any reader insert, but one day I happened upon a Tumblr fanfic and had an idea. This probably won’t be a regular thing - except I am planning a sequel to this exact fic - but I thought why not. Im still more Aziraphale/Crowley.

55BC—————

"And you love this?" Crowley asked, holding the seafood up to the light as though it would reveal to Aziraphale all the disgusting little details.

"It's delightful!" Aziraphale insisted, showing Crowley how to eat the oyster. "Try it, dearest. You might just enjoy it."

Crowley pursed his lips, not wanting to put whatever the hell this was in his mouth. But Aziraphale was looking at him with those eyes. He didn't know how describe them, and he didn't want to analyze how they made his heart hurt inside his vessel's chest. So he closed his eyes and ate the damned thing.

He put a hand over his mouth to stop the gagging. This Angel's taste was not quite normal if this is what he considered fine dining. He tried to smile politely, to not let him know that it was utter horseshit.

"You don't like it," Aziraphale said with a rather disappointed voice.

"N-No, I don't," Crowley said, and he didn't know why but he was sad to disappoint the angel. He was just trying to be kind after all, it wasn't as though he had properly sinned. But why would a demon feel bad for an angel? That went against his lot's whole thing.

However, Crowley found a wicked part of him that liked pissing off his lot. He'd never put it in as many words however.

"Pity, they are quite delectable."

"Sure, angel," Crowley said, sipping a large mouthful of wine. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, eating and drinking as they'd like. Then Crowley looked up to Aziraphale's soft "ahem." He was pointing behind Crowley, and when he turned he saw what caused it.

A young woman was sat in the corner, a large glass of wine in her hands, and she was weeping to herself. It wasn't loud or particularly noticeable, if it wasn't for the tear tracks down her cheeks, glittering as they caught the light. She was looking at her lap and sipping the wine, balking at the taste yet coming back for more.

"She looks happy," Crowley said.

"She looks sad! You demons need to learn the proper emotions."

Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a moment, wondering if he was joking. Upon realizing that Aziraphale was, in fact, not joking Crowley said, "that was sarcasm, Angel."

"What was sarcasm?"

"My comment, 'she looks happy.' Of course she doesn't look happy that's why I said it."

Aziraphale furrowed his brows, "but your words meant the opposite of what you said."

"Exactly," Crowley said. And with a flourish he added, "it's called sarcasm."

"But why say something you don't mean? Isn't that lying?" Aziraphale asked, in all sincerity.

Crowley thought it over, "s'pose it could be seen that way. Most people view it as ironic."

"Oh, yes, of course." Aziraphale took an anxious sip of wine, looking back towards the girl.

"Angel..."

"Yes?" He was avoiding eye contact

"You don't know what ironic means, do you?"

Aziraphale pouted, "no I don't and I quite detest that you do."

"Ironic literally means saying the opposite of what you mean for some sort of point. Mine being that she looks downright miserable."

"Even though you said she looks happy." Aziraphale said slowly as he tracked that line of logic through his head.

"Right, even though I said she looks happy."

"And that's ironic?"

"Don't ya think?" Crowley said with a wide smile, his teeth appearing almost like he had pointed fangs.

"Why yes I do think-"

"Angel, that was irony."

"Oh." Aziraphale blinked rapidly a few times then sipped his wine, embarrassed he didn't know something that Crowley did know. He thought he was the knowledgeable of the two. "Well, sarcasm or not, we should help her."

"We?"

"Why - yes, we're both here and we see -"

"I don't help people," Crowley said quickly, his voice deep and harsh. "I'm a demon, I do the opposite of help."

"Well, yes but-"

"There are no buts with this. My lot were created to ruin your lots pickings. I pillage and plunder, that's my job." Crowley said this firmly as though it would make his point clearer. The more intense he was, the more his words seemed to slur together a bit.

Aziraphale paused for a moment, and Crowley wondered if he was about argue his point once more. "Isn't the phrase rape, pillage and plunder?"

"I don't do that. I'm not a monster," Crowley balked. He finished his wine and set the glass down. Throwing some money on the table he said, "sorry Angel. Got a priest to tempt. Catch you later."

"Oh, goodbye." Aziraphale said as Crowley ambled off through the restaurants doors. But despite himself, Aziraphale found himself smiling. Crowley wasn't truly all bad, even if he thought himself it. His gaze at the doors quickly moved over to the pretty girl weeping. She was still crying and her glass was a lot emptied.

Aziraphale got up, straightened his toga, and walked over to the girl. "Oh, um, hello. I'm -" oh shoot, he hadn't thought of this part yet. He had to quickly think of a name. Instantly his eyes shot up to the art above her, a fleece. Aha! "Jason. My name is Jason. Pardon the intrusion, but I couldn't help but notice you're upset."

She sniffled, setting the glass down on the table. Aziraphale was struck by her face, now that he could see it not turned down and hidden. She was pretty. She eyed him warily, "Yeah, what's it to you?"

Aziraphale sat down on the chair opposite her, "I wondered if I might be able to help."

She laughed bitterly, "only if you can stop the Emperor." Aziraphale's eyebrows raised at that and she rushed to cover for herself, "oh no, I didn't mean that. All Hail the Caesar and what not. He's doing a mighty fine job."

"It's certainly not a 'mighty fine job' if he's got you crying as such."

"No, I s'pose not."

"What can I do for you?"

"Nothing," she said honestly, wiping the tears away quickly. "Honestly, Jason, I appreciate the thought but what's done is done. You can't change the past."

Aziraphale made a face in slight disagreement, though he knew he couldn't explain that to a human female. "Then perhaps telling someone will make you feel better. I harbor no connection with the Emperor, your opinions are quite safe with me."

She stared up at him after he said this, looking him truly in the eyes as though they told her all she needed to know. Then she did speak. "It's this invasion on Britain. My father and brother were both sent off and I worry. I've heard horrible things about the natives, truly barbaric things like removing of one's head. I don't want them to be hurt. Especially my brother, he's so sweet. He could get hurt by the army rather the natives."

"Hurt by his own army?"

"He doesn't stand up for himself. And that lot can be harsh. I s'pose I shouldn't blame them, I'd be harsh too if I had to kill people in battle. But I worry they will pick on him, push him 'round to try and get him to fight, and he won't."

"Ah, I see," Aziraphale said, rolling his tongue in his mouth as he thought it over. "Well, I can assure you one thing. The natives are not unnecessarily cruel. They do fight, but only when they need to. You couldn't expect anything less, dear."

She nodded, biting her lip. "No, you're correct. I'd defend my country against invaders as well."

"But they won't torture. Your brother will be quite alright, I'm sure of it."

After a minute of silence she looked up again at Aziraphale, "Thank you, Jason. Strangely enough, that makes me feel better. Knowing it wouldn't be torture."

"No, it wouldn't be."

"I really should be going, my daughter will be expecting me."

"Right, of course. Blessings on you, my dear." And though he'd already said the blessing, he felt compelled to say it again. To strengthen it for this poor soul. "Blessings on you forever."

Aziraphale helped her out of her seat. Just then, for an imperceivable second, Aziraphale thought he saw a golden shine cross her eyes. He didn't think much of it, figured it was the miracle. He'd never seen that happen, but he wasn't often looking in their eyes.

She took his hand, kissed the back of it, and thanked him again before walking out. Aziraphale smiled contentedly, though he felt a pull in his heart he hadn't felt before. Urging him to follow her, but he figured it was some sort of indigestion.

Crowley was sprawled on a bench not far from the restaurant, glancing up at a night time sky he couldn't see. He wanted to see it, but he gave up on that dream 2,000 years ago. The Fall took many things, and his eyesight was one of them. He could still see in general, he knew what people's faces looked like and where he was going. But specifics were lost on him, and the night looked like eternal darkness rather than the sparkling stars and planets he'd been told about.

"I helped create some of those," he mumbled to himself.

Then he closed his eyes, needing to not look at what he couldn't see. It still hurt, as though the wound wasn't thousands of years old. But it never properly healed in the first place.

He felt a weight against his foot and heard a thud within a matter of seconds, and he blinked in surprise. At his feet, a young woman was crumpled to the ground. His foot was sticking out in the pathway. Whoops.

He thought about rising to help her, then thought better of it. Beelzebub didn't need another reason to hate him. So he sat still and watched the woman get onto her hands and knees, glaring at him.

"Not going to help are you?"

"No, I think I'm keen to just watch," Crowley responded. She rolled her eyes, getting onto her feet and dusting off her toga. He examined her quickly, not knowing what to make of her. Then, she said something entirely unexpected.

"Keep your foot out of the way, asshole."

It wasn't a particularly inspired remark, nothing witty or threatening. But it was the fact that a random woman said that to him, a demon, without prompting. And with that remark, she walked away.

"Damnation on you eternally," Crowley murmured, waving his hand in a flourish towards the woman. He doesn't know why he said it, he's never really said it like that before and he certainly didn't why he even added the 'eternally' bit. But whatever the reason, he said it.

Though he knew she was too far away to hear him, she turned and looked back. And found a brief moment, maybe it was the trick of the light, he saw a golden shine pass over her eyes. She smirked shyly, then turned and walked away. And with each step, Crowley felt his heart pulse in a way he hadn't felt before.

1377—————

There was complete silence in the cathedral as a young boy, only aged 10 and dressed in trousers, walked through the crowd towards the priest. They seemed to hold their breaths as he lay on the floor before God, surrendering himself to Her mercy. Aziraphale watched the coronation. He had mixed feelings about the child, Richard. He wasn't a particular fan of the whole 'king' concept, but he thought the honoring to God bit was a nice touch. He wore simple enough clothes to note stand out, yet nice to enough to be recognized as a noble. His layers were in varying degrees of beige as he hid in the very middle of the crowd.

After the 10 minutes on the floor, Richard rose and made his way to the priest where he was being dressed in oil.

"Bit like a salad, eh?" A sultry, baritone voice said from beside Aziraphale, making him shudder. When he looked, it was Crowley. Dressed in similarly simple noble clothes, of course in tones of black and red, he watched the young king as different body parts were coated in oil for different purposes.

"Crowley? How did you get in here? It's a church?" Aziraphale said in a hushed whisper, earning glares from the people beside him. "Sorry Lord Wellington."

"Churches are built by humans."

"And what does that have to do with anything? You're still a demon in a place of worship for God," he said the word 'demon' especially softly for fear someone would turn in a panic at the word 'demon' being said in a cathedral.

"Yeah but it wasn't made by God. It was made for Her, by humans. Totally human structure."

"It is not."

Crowley shrugged his shoulders, "you got a better reason I can come and go in these?"

Aziraphale pursed his lips, "I suppose not."

A loud smack echoed through the church and Crowley frowned, "you made me miss the slap, Angel."

"That is your concern?"

Crowley shook his head in frustration, "He's a bloody king now, last time he coulda gotten hit and it's by a priest. S'course I wanted to see it."

"He's a child."

"Not anymore. He's got too much to think about now to be a child."

"No," Aziraphale wondered. "I suppose he's not longer a child at all. You know, dearest, you really do have the grandest thoughts when you think about it."

"Shut up," Crowley replied, his cheeks turning rosy at the compliment.

Within seconds of him saying it, the priest placed the crown on top of boy's head and declared loudly, "Long Live King Richard II!"

The crowd burst into applause as the young king was carried through the cathedral. They whooped and hollered, crying "all hail" and "god save the king" as he passed them by. The boy looked cheerful, pink cheeks and bright curls waving underneath a crown that looked awful heavy for a boy his age. But no, Aziraphale thought, perhaps this was the end of his childhood after all.

"Are you attending the feast afterwards? I hear they will serve beef, and I haven't have beef in decades!"

"Ahh, well I don't know, Angel."

Aziraphale smiled, leaning in as though he was sharing a conspiratorial secret, "I hear there are miraculously two spots for a Lord Fell and Mr Fell, if you are so inclined."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up, eyes hidden beneath his favorite pair of sunglasses, "oh you devil!"

Aziraphale's smile dropped, "don't you say that."

There was a pause as Aziraphale processed the hurtful words, and Crowley processed that he actually cared to make it right to him. Then all at once, they both started speaking on the issue, words overlapping in a frightful mess.

Crowley sighed, "Right I'm sorry -"

"- that really hurts -"

"- I know, I know -"

"- I mean, I am most certainly not fallen -"

"-we had this conversation in 1066 -"

" - I did not appreciate that."

" -I know, Angel. I'm sorry."

After that final note, Aziraphale nodded. "Alright, well. Thank you."

They started to walk together towards the banquet hall not far from there, waiting to indulge in fine wines and beef. There was a large parade towards it, all the nobles and even those fortunate peasants engaged in laughing and singing. Jesters performed stupid dances in their funny hats, knights marched in perfect unison, and songs came pouring from every lute and voice in the area. It was a perfect celebration of a new king, all on their way to fall victim to gluttony, drunkenness, lust, greed and infinitely more temptations.

All things that should fill Crowley's heart with a miserable sort of glee. And yet... he felt off. Crowley couldn't explain the feeling in his chest, almost like a nagging telling him things weren't right. But all this temptation, he thought. This ought to be perfect! But it wasn't, and he had a feeling before he even glanced at his Angel that it was because of him.

Sure enough, he was right. Though Aziraphale hadn't said anything, being kind enough to accept Crowley's words at face value and dropping it, but Crowley knew him well enough to know something was wrong. He hadn't made it up to him.

"Angel, a word -" Crowley said, grabbing Aziraphale's elbow and leading him away from the crowd. As he did so, he missed the way Aziraphale's mouth dropped open, blue eyes fixated on the contact. They'd rarely touched before.

"Yes, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked politely but his tone was full of too much passive aggression to really be polite. He stood stock still, arms poised in front of him and looked expectedly at Crowley.

"I- I, I need to..." Satan this was hard. The words felt like glue in Crowley's mouth but he did his best to force them out. "I need to, to s'make it up to you."

"Pardon?"

Oh damn Aziraphale, making Crowley actually communicate. "What I said, I was wrong. You were right. It wasn't right of me and I need to make it because my apology isn't enough."

"I never said that."

"Ah, yeah, you never said it. But you's do this thing with your face when you's upset. And my words aren't getting there. Just tell me what I can do to make it up to you."

They waited a moment, staring at one another. Suddenly, a large crash came from parade and the two looked over in surprise. The musicians were playing a long, one very eager man slamming the cymbals that caused such a loud sound. Behind them another jester bobbled along a delicate little dance, flourishing his arms on either side before turning and doing a bow.

Crowley saw Aziraphale's eyebrows raise, the corner of his cute little mouth twitch up and a finger pointed towards the little dance. He ran to stop it, saying, "no, no, no, I'm not doing that."

"Come now-"

"A dance? You want an 'I was wrong, You were right dance'? You can't be serious, Angel."

"I am serious, you wily serpent. Now do the little dance or I'll never forgive you," Aziraphale said in mock frustration, puffing out his chest.

Crowley saw before him a choice, between what his lot were bound to and Aziraphale. And without a second thought, he chose Aziraphale. He would choose Aziraphale every time, he just didn't know it yet. And so, despite all the humiliation he knew this would cause him if the bosses down under ever found out, Crowley did the little dance.

Aziraphale watched, eyebrows raised in shock. He hadn't thought Crowley would do it. Certainly not for him. But as Crowley bowed, enunciating his t's with a flourish, he couldn't help but smile.

"Very nice."

"Are we good, now?"

Aziraphale beamed, "quite right, dearest. We are quite right."

Crowley let out a breath, adjusting his glasses as though they would hide that dance from history's books. "Well then, let's get a move on."

The pair followed the parade into the banquet hall, and continued with the affair. Aziraphale literally wiggled in his seat when the food was placed before him, so excited he couldn't sit still. Crowley drank the wine, actually quite good for English wine.

Then the dancing started. King Richard - now Richard II - climbed on top of the table and proclaimed everyone to dance. And so, the nobles in their fancy gowns, drunk and laughing to no end, jumped from their seats to join in the dance. Aziraphale sat still for a moment, not knowing what he should do. Angels don't dance, not really. But this Angel longed to dance.

Crowley saw the way his fingers tapped along the table to the beat. He groaned, getting up from his seat.

"S'alright Angel, up up."

"Pardon -"

"You heard what I said. Come on Angel, let's dance."

Aziraphale giggled and got up, following Crowley into the chaos of swirling dresses and flirtatious looks between anyone and everyone. Almost immediately they were separated, swung by different partners.

Crowley danced with an older woman who squeezed his buttocks when she thought he wasn't looking. He wasn't fond of dancing, not the way Aziraphale was, but he enjoyed the freedom of it all. There were no rules, not really. Yes some people liked the structured ones where you pose and turn on every 3rd beat or what not. But in dancing there was an air of just living - being truly alive. That's what it was all about, it's all anyone yearned to feel.

In the next turn to switch partners, time seemed to slow for Crowley. He saw her, flitting between the people to slide her arm into Crowley's and continue the dance. She was pretty in an unconventional way. A way society might not call beautiful, but made Crowley stop and stare. He was pulled towards her, as though he couldn't control it. She was the center of his focus and he wanted nothing more than to meet her. Then, she turned that pretty gaze on him. Her lips quirked into a smile, hands warm and soft as they held his tightly. Her skin was flushed from the dance, and her dress swung around her in bright, dashing colors. The last dance had ended and all the people were gasping for air yet still ready to dive into the next.

"Hello," she said softly, though somehow he heard her voice over the crowd.

"Hello," Crowley answered back, not sure what to do. He'd never been in this position before.

"A dance?" She asked, taking a deep bow before holding her hand out. Palm up. She wore one, golden signet ring.

"I'd love to," Crowley answered honestly, taking her hand and pulling her into him.

She giggled happily, throwing an arm around his neck as he led the pair towards the center of the dance floor. He started to laugh along with her. Their dancing wasn't particularly good, both of them knew that, but they were having fun. She would twirl away only to twirl back into him awkwardly, laughing so hard she snorted which only caused a barking laughter from Crowley. They continued forward, holding each other close until the final pull drew them chest to chest. She was shorter than he, and she glanced up through dark lashes.

"Hi," she murmured, her breath hitting Crowley's face. She smelled of wine and temptation. He looked into her eyes and there it was - that one moment in history he thought was a fluke.

It had been 1,432 years, not like he was counting, but he didn't forget the way the golden band seemed to fleet over her eyes back in 55BC. And now, he saw that same golden shine slide over the same pair of eyes. It was just a second and yet it made Crowley's mouth drop. She saw it too, but for different reasons. He watched as she looked at his lips, he could tell what she was thinking.

She went to lean in, breasts pressed against his chest and breath hot, but was ripped away by the next dance. She giggled wildly as she was pulled into a circle, but found herself glancing over her shoulder to stare at the handsome stranger she almost kissed.

As Crowley stood in the middle of the floor, mystified, Aziraphale went over to his table to get a drink. All this dancing was positively amazing, but it certainly drained one of their energy.

As he brought the cup to his lips, a body crashed into his, sending the crimson liquid all over his clothes.

"Oh, bugger," he said, setting the cup down to assess the damage.

"I am so sorry, sir!" A girl said, breathless as she ran over. "That was entirely my fault. Please, let me help you clean it. I'm sure there's a tub not far."

Aziraphale smiled politely and went to decline the kind offer, but when he looked into her eyes he found himself agreeing to go with her. She lit up with excitement, grabbing his hand and pulling him away. There was something about her, something he couldn't explain. But he was in awe of her movements and eager to learn more about her.

She turned into an empty hall near a bathroom. She had him wait here while she collected a basin of water and grease.

"I can't promise it will fully work," she said as she set it down, "but I'll do my best. I really am so sorry, sir. I would have never ruined your clothes intentionally."

"It's quite alright. They weren't my favorite anyway," he said as he removed the outer layer. His multiple layers undergarments were fine, and could suffer slight staining. It was the outer garment that changed the most.

She shook her head as she dunked it in the basin, "you can't mean that, sir."

"I find that I quite do," he said, watching her with a quite awe.

"What's your name, sir? I feel I've seen you before," she said, suddenly watching him with the same astute attention. She kept narrowing her eyes as though she'd remember.

Maybe it was the stain, the wine, the party, the demon nearby, or maybe it was just this woman that did it to him but without realizing, he answered honestly, "Aziraphale."

Her eyes lit up, "like the Angel?"

"Precisely, my dear."

"That's a beautiful name. Aziraphale, Aziraphale... can you believe it?" She mumbled the last bit to herself, rubbing liberal amounts of grease into the fabric.

"Do you have a connection to the name? Or the Angel, perhaps?" Aziraphale asked curiously, wanting to hear more about her.

"I do, strangely enough. It's a silly connection..." she said, absentmindedly turning the signet ring over and over on her hand.

"I rather find that when it comes to angels and demons, nothing is silly." Aziraphale chose to neglect some of the more strange decisions the staff had made.

"I, well, oh goodness it sounds all made up. Well, I was in the shops the other day. My friend makes jewelry and he's very good. I came by and he said a man dropped off this gold signet ring with the name Aziraphale burned into it. Said he didn't know what to do with it, not many people knows the Angel, and he gave it to me." She took the ring off her finger, staring at it with an admiration before holding it out to him. "It's your name. You should have it."

"Oh I couldn't possibly take from you, dear."

She shook her head, "no it's not taking. It's a gift. It's fate, that I should have a ring for an Aziraphale just before meeting one of my very own."

"Oh dear, I couldn't -"

She interrupted him by pressing a soft kiss to the ring, taking his hand and sliding it onto his pinky finger. When she looked up, still holding his hand, Aziraphale's jaw dropped. That golden shine. Where had he seen that before? It was brief, flashing over a pair of kind eyes, but it was there all the same.

"Please accept this, Aziraphale."

"I - I will. Thank you, my dear."

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale saw her after that night. They didn't know her name, her status, or even really remember her outfit. If Cinderella was around, she would have been the prime candidate for it. Neither told each other about their experience with a strange woman until 150 years later as they talked about Henry VIII's decision to have Anne Boleyn beheaded. Nasty business that was.

1601—————

"He's really quite good," Aziraphale said, watching fondly as the actor of Hamlet lamented about life and death. It really was moving the way he toyed between truly living a life, or if death was not truly what life was about.

Aziraphale found himself doing that 'excited sigh' that Crowley described. He found it an odd way of saying his behaviors, but Crowley insisted that when Aziraphale was excited it wasn't a 'satisfied sigh' but an 'excited sigh.' To be fair, he'd said this after 2 whole bottles of wine and a shot of pure vodka, so Aziraphale couldn't grant its true authenticity. A drunk demon would truly say anything just to illicit a reaction.

The speech made him wonder what it was like to be a human, with no certainty about what happens with their souls. They don't have a guarantee about life, or death, and yet are expected to do as they are told with no questions. Crowley knew what it was like to ask questions, and it lead to scars even Aziraphale didn't know about.

"Ngk, s'pose so." Crowley grumbled, watching as the man stamped his foot on the stage. "Bit dramatic, no?"

"It'd a tragedy!" Aziraphale countered, furrowing his brows in surprise.

"Eh, I still prefer the funny ones."

Aziraphale shook his head, turning to watch the man on the stage. A flash of purple fabric caught his eye, and his gaze traveled to see a young woman peaking out from behind the railing. She was trying to stay hidden, but Aziraphale could see that she just couldn't resist the temptation to watch the rehearsal. Her eyes were bright and wide, soaking in the sight. Her clothes were dirty and well worn, a few sizes too big and the hem covered in a layer of mud. But despite it all, she looked entirely unique.

She was pretty, and Aziraphale didn't often feel as though many humans were pretty. He appreciated the art of humanity, and believed each human was their own work of art. But he didn't feel a pull to any of them, but her... she had an attraction to her. He could see her lean too far over the edge, as though the stage were dragging her in. It wasn't just a love and an admiration, it was an addiction. Aziraphale could see what was going to happen moments before it did, but it was too late. The girl tumbled over the edge and fell onto the floor of the Globe, catching the attention of everybody in the rehearsal space.

Her cheeks immediately blotted pink, covering her face in a rosy hue as the stage manager came to her with a snarl, "oi, who're you?"

"I-I-"

"You's not supposed to be 'ere," he said, grabbing her roughly by the arm and dragging her to her feet. She stumbled along as he pulled her to the entrance. "Out with you."

"Mary? Whatcha doin here?" Crowley called out, sauntering over to the man and the girl. The man stopped, looking at Crowley with a skeptical gaze. The girl's eyes widened, bright and eager, as she realized what Crowley was doing and she nodded vigorously.

"Yes, sir, I came to fetch you! Mistress Paulson requested you." She said quickly, trying to stand on her own despite the stage manager's tight grasp.

The man cocked an eyebrow, "oh yeah? You know's him?"

"Know me? Know me?" Crowley sauntered over with a cackle, "me's and Mary goes way back."

She nodded, ripping her arm from the man's grasp then standing politely. "Oh yes, Mr..."

"Oh don't bother with all the Mr Crowley Miss whatever business, just call me Anthony like any other bloke."

"Anthony has helped my sister much. He's an excellent doctor," she said, standing firm. Aziraphale watched her in awe, he was impressed. She picked up that Crowley was saving her quickly, easing into the lie with an expert comfort. She seemed familiar, as though they'd met her before. And most importantly, she was intelligent.

"Doctor? You didn't mention that about your friend," the man said to Aziraphale, his enunciation so poor he practically spat the words at Aziraphale's feet.

Aziraphale flashed a charming smile, "I hadn't realized that those particular skills would, uh, come up in a theatre of this, err,... caliber."

"I haven't the pleasure of meeting you, sir." The girl piped up, her smile was warm and gentle. But he could see in her eyes a tension, wanting to convince this man to not throw her out or worse - press charges. "My's names Mary Edwins. Friend of Mr Crowley."

Mary Edwins, clearly a fake name. Just basic enough to be believable, but enough slight hesitation that Aziraphale knew she was lying. She gave a little curtesy, spreading the oversized purple skirt over the floor. It really was too large, but she still looked charming. Aziraphale felt as though he'd seen that curtesy before. There it was, fast you could have blamed the lighting, Aziraphale knew better. There that same golden shine came over her eyes, if just for a moment. His mouth fell open in a little 'o,' unable to speak for a while 10 seconds before stuttering out, "oh, h-hello Miss Edwins, I'm Mr Fell."

The stage manager thought on it for a moment, before deciding that he wasn't paid enough to care. It was hours away from opening night, after all, and the little boy playing Ophelia needed alterations in his costume.

"Alright then," he said, walking back towards the director, a Mr William Shakespeare.

The girl was still a few feet away as Crowley walked dramatically back towards Aziraphale. The Angel tried to ignore it. He hadn't mentioned that part of it with Crowley, and he didn't know how to continue. Crowley mistook Aziraphale's expression as one of angelic smugness and rose a finger, "shut it, Angel."

"That was a good thing you did," he said with a little smile. He pushed it to the back of his mind, something to worry about when it was late and the city was asleep.

"Twasn't good, no. I was, real, I - I - I was bad. I let a criminal get away."

Aziraphale patted Crowley's shoulder, "no, dearest. You let a woman enjoy her passion. Look at her, you've saved her."

The pair glanced over at her as she tried, and failed, to subtly watch the actors get ready for their next scene. Her hand was on her heart, as though if she didn't put it there her heart would pop right out.

"Ehhh, that's not saving. Not really."

"Oh, it's not? Then what would you say is a human's purpose?" Aziraphale asked with a soft voice.

"I thought that's your job, Angel. Praising God and what not."

Aziraphale pursed his lips, looking away from Crowley. "You know as well as I that love of God is not all humans were made for. I am of the firm opinion they are here for their passions. They survive by it. They might be able to live with food and water alone, but no soul could truly exist without their drive. And this woman, her passion is theatre."

"Rather blasphemous words from an Angel."

"Rather kind actions from a demon."

Aziraphale smiled, looking towards the stage. Crowley tried to hide the blush on his ears and cheeks. It was always his ears that turned bright red from, from, well he didn't quite know from what. But he felt the heat and looked away. He looked at the girl, who perked your once she realized he saw her. She went over shyly.

Despite her apprehension, she raised her voice enough to say, "thank you for your help, Mr Crowley and Mr Fell."

"Mmm," was Crowley reply, gazing around the globe with a distinguished air about him. As if he was the most important person in the room. He tried to ignore her presence. She had a pull to her and he couldn't explain it, didn't want to address it. He already had the issue of a certain Angel who wouldn't leave his mind.

"Who are we to stop the love of the arts?" Aziraphale said, rather eccentrically. "Though you could have waited a few hours to see the whole show."

"I can't afford it," she said quietly, staring at her feet. Aziraphale noted her sweet little boots, their pointed ends digging into the dirt out of anxiety. "My mistress only gave me the morning. I need to be back in an hour."

Crowley and Aziraphale shot a glance with one another, not quite knowing how to respond. They stood in silence, the girl's eyes wide as she drank in Ophelia's mad lullabies.

"What's your name?"

"Mary Edwins."

Crowley smiled, "nice try, love. Your real name."

She cocked an eyebrow, glancing up at first at Crowley, then at Aziraphale, before looking back at her reflection in his sunglasses. "Why do you want to know?"

"We did help you, dear. We'd just love to know you, but if you cannot tell us, we won't rush you."

"Are you two a couple?" She asked quickly, pointing at the two and waving her hands in some strange, gesture of coupling. Her choice of question was so drastic, they didn't bother to notice the intentional diversion in topics.

Aziraphale looked up, mouth dropping in a little 'o' and he looked at Crowley. Crowley lifted a brow. Aziraphale answered, "We've known each other for a long time."

"That doesn't answer my question, Mr Fell."

"Aren't you a sly one, Miss Edwins." Crowley sneered, his top lip recoiling.

She just smiled, shrugging her shoulders with a little giggle. "Suppose so, Mr Crowley."

The golden shine. Crowley sucked in a harsh breath as she turned to look back at the stage. He could practically hear all his thoughts as they raced through his head, and he was unable to settle on just one. Those eyes. He hadn't seen them in years and yet this was the third woman who just happened to flirt with him, and had a gold shine go across her eyes. He reckoned she didn't know it happened, she probably didn't know what those little eyes could do to an immortal creature. Crowley swallowed, praying she never had to.

Then, the show continued and 'Mary's' eyes seemed transfixed. Aziraphale loved the theatre, Crowley enjoyed it, but 'Mary' adored it.

Crowley watched her eagerly, partly out of curiosity and partly because he liked feeling her passion in his soul as though it was her own. He found himself attracted to it, a drag of one's purpose. The passion filled her up, and she seemed to want to lean into it. She gasped as Hamlet killed his mother, she listened with eager ears as he instructed the actors on how they were to act, she cried as it seemed that everyone fell to the floor in a miserable death. Then, it was over. Actors stumbled to their feet, laughing as though they weren't stabbed with poisoned rapiers. The story was over, but 'Mary' seemed to be in a daze. Crowley watched with shrewd, yet eager eyes as she came out of it.

Then she straightened her back, smiling tightly to both of them. "Mr Fell, Mr Crowley, thank you for letting me stay. It has been such a gift. I'm afraid I must go."

"Let us escort you home," Aziraphale said, without realizing what he was offering.

She blinked wide eyes, "there's no need, sir. It's two blocks away."

Crowley lifted his chin, "love, we'd like to see you off safe."

"If you insist. Though I must tell you it's entirely through the city. Eyes will be on you at all times," she said it as a threat, a reminder to not do anything unsavory. Crowley almost frowned at that little bit of false hope. If they actually had bad intentions, a crowd wouldn't stop anything. She wasn't truly safe. But both Crowley and Aziraphale nodded, as though they truly headed her warning.

"Was that your first Shakespeare production?" Aziraphale asked, making polite conversation as he walked on one side of her, Crowley on the other.

"Oh, no. I do my best to attend all of them. I tend to prefer the funny ones, but the crowds can be a bit much for me."

"Eh? What'd you mean by that?" Crowley asked.

She blushed, "I don't like when crowds get very loud. They tend to jeer and toss things at the actors. It doesn't feel safe for anyone. I do enjoy his dramas though."

They walked in companionable silence for a moment before she asked the next question, "what do you two do? If I may, you're dressed rather odd."

"Odd?" Crowley asked with a frown, gazing down at his outfit. He was quite proud of this outfit. The ruff was amazing, really helped one feel confident.

'Mary' giggled. "I don't dislike your outfits, you just don't see these colors often."

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance, shifting in their outfits. Perhaps they do cling to their colors a bit much. But Aziraphale never felt it was a problem, he was proud of his wardrobe.

"I make my own clothes," Aziraphale said with a smile.

'Mary' lightened up, her eyes taking on a bright, sparkling quality before she actually smiled, a little tell that Aziraphale noticed. He'd seen that before, but couldn't place it. "That is quite wonderful, Mr Fell. I'd love to make my own, however I mostly sew for my mistress."

"You make her clothes?"

"Oh no, I tend to mend them."

The conversation lulled again, and Crowley bit his lip as he thought before asking the question that has been on his tongue since the play ended, "why do you love theatre so much?"

Her chest flared, her eyes wide and sparkling, and she could barely contain the words before they poured from her in excited spurts, "what's not to love? It's stories about being human wrapped up in fancy costumes and dramatic voices. It's full of stories that seem so outrageous yet we still find our way to connect. Isn't it just fascinating that you could watch a show about a man, driven mad by jealousy caused by a deceiving friend, murdering his wife and leave full of emotions? You'd think you'd be mad at the murderer, condemning him for killing his love. And yet, there's more to it than that. You can't quite hate Othello, but you can't love him either. It's so hard to explain what it is to be human, there's no word or sentence to explain it. It can be so isolating. But these stories can give us insight. I, sorry, I'm rambling," she said, taking a wistful sigh.

"Stories can be found anywhere, dear. Books, especially," Aziraphale noted. He enjoyed hearing her speak with such fire. In the back of his mind, he felt as though he could recall someone else talking about their love of stories, but he couldn't place it.

She nodded, smiling. "Yes, of course. And I adore books too. It's just... theatre is such a temporary art. Those moments on stage, or watching, could never be recreated, it could never be exactly as it was. And that's what made it so beautifully tragic. You are stuck with a slightly different story each night, with different takeaways."

"What a beautiful takeaway," Aziraphale said, watching her with a slight sort of awe.

She blushed, "I'm hardly unique in that way."

"Ngk," Crowley mumbled in disagreement, though he didn't actually say a word. Yet, she seemed to still understand what he was trying to say and blushed all the same.

As they walked, Crowley took off his sunglasses for a moment to wipe his eyes. He seemed to forget that his were unusual, yellow and with a snake like slit as a pupil.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"M'yeah," Crowley answered, opening his eyes to look at her. After the initial realization he was seeing her without glasses, thus revealing the snake like eyes, he went to shove the sunglasses back on. But she wasn't looking unkindly at him.

Instead, she smiled widely, "they're beautiful."

"Wot?" He said in shock.

"Your eyes are beautiful, Mr Crowley." Then, as Crowley sputtered in surprise, she stopped in front of an expensive flat. "This is me mistress's. Thank you, Mr Crowley and Mr Fell."

She looked both of them in the eyes as she said their names, and with equal kindness and appreciation. Then, she turned away and scampered around towards the servants entrance. Aziraphale waited until she was inside to blow out a breath.

"She was something," Crowley said.

"Yes, she was."

"I- angel, I could be wrong on this but didn't she feel-"

"Familiar?" Aziraphale finished for Crowley, looking down the alley as though she would magically reappear.

"Yes! It's so bloody weird," Crowley said, rubbing his hand along his jaw.

"Yes, weird," Aziraphale said, enunciating weird in an odd way that made Crowley furrow his brows. The two beings tried to shrug off this encounter, heading their separate ways for the time being.

1865—————

Aziraphale stared at Crowley as though he'd never seen him before, utterly gobsmacked. "I will not provide you that, that thing! It's suicide."

"Aw not for that Angel," Crowley groaned, waving his hand nonchalantly as though he hadn't asked for the one thing that would completely kill him. "Just for, err you know, protection."

"You are a demon, Crowley. The world would need protection from you."

Crowley tried to not let that sting. He'd never said as much to Aziraphale, but these last 200 years have really brought some perspective over what it is to be a demon. He found a weird sense of discomfort over the word demon. As though he were entirely bad because of what he was, and not what he does. But he'd never say it, or tell Aziraphale he accidentally rhymed.

"It's not like that, I just want to secure myself. That's all."

Aziraphale pursed his lips and looked away, not bearing the thought that his closest acquaintance would dare to think of something like that. It was simply not going to happen, Aziraphale refused to let that happen. Crowley was going to live forever, with Aziraphale, and he was going to do so happily. He'd never tell Crowley, of course, but Aziraphale didn't know if he could manage eternity without him.

"Oi! That can't have that!" Crowley said quickly, throwing himself off the bench and facing towards a woman standing by the river.

She turned to look at the, in her view, random man dressed in mourning garb barreling towards her and shouting in a thick accent. She clutched the loaf of bread close to her chest, eyeing him warily as he continued rambling.

"Bread's not good for 'em, it can - can - can cause diseases," he said once he got close to her.

She sucked in a breath. He was taller than he'd looked from afar, and she found herself staring at him. He was also quite handsome, with tanned skin and shocking bright red hair, curled away from his face. She noticed a pair of odd looking spectacles hiding his eyes, and a tattoo peaking out beneath his sideburns.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," she said breathlessly. She felt kind of stupid now, holding a loaf of bread as he stared at her with a passion for the ducks. A man dressed in all beige apparel came by quickly, standing by the other man's side. He looked kind, with bright blue eyes and plush pink lips she didn't even realize she'd taken note of.

"I'm terribly sorry for my friend's outburst," Aziraphale said to the woman, still looking shellshocked. "Though I'm afraid he is right, bread is not the best for them."

She looked down and stared at it. "Right, well I apologize. I hadn't been doing it long, if it's of any comfort."

Crowley grumbled but didn't say anything else, eyeing her with skepticism. After a pause where the three stood in silence, the woman tore the loaf into three sections. She then offered up a piece to each of the men, "better we eat it than them?"

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a glance, they hadn't expected this. Maybe it was the mood of St James's Park or the pull of this young girl, but they reached out to accept their proffered piece.

Just then a golden shine passed over her eyes. Both men's jaws dropped as they'd never shared of this particular detail of their stories, and had never experienced it together. And, for the first time, she seemed conscious of it too.

A hand went up to her cheeks just below her eyes, which had grown wide in surprise. "What was that?"

"Pardon?" Aziraphale asked in that slightly tense voice he had when he was covering up for something.

"The, my, my eyes. I was looking and then it went all - gold like."

"Oh I don't know about that," Aziraphale said.

She shook her head vehemently, pointing at the both of them. "Yours did too, and yours!"

"You saw our eyes shine gold?" Crowley asked shyly.

"Y-yes. I saw through your spectacles. The whole eye, it went gold -"

"It must have been a trick of the light, dearest. Eyes don't 'go gold.'"

She shook her head again, "no. I know what I saw. I, I think I'd better go. Thank you for the, the, the ducks."

"Wait-" "Don't go-" Aziraphale and Crowley started at the same time, but she'd already lifted her skirts so she could walk away as quickly as possible.

"She saw it this time," Crowley said, mouth open in surprise.

"This time? This time? You've had a girls eyes shine gold before?" Aziraphale asked, trying to ignore the way his heart ramped up at the news. Crowley felt it too, it wasn't all him.

"And by the sound of it, you have too."

"Yes, I have. But only thrice before, 55BC, 13-"

"-77 and 1601."

Aziraphale's blue eyes widened and he stared at Crowley in shock, "I- I, how did you know?"

"Same for me, Angel. Same for me."

"So she's connected then, to the both of us." Aziraphale said slowly, trying to work it all out in his head. Crowley nodded, pursing his lips and making a 'tsk' noise under his breath.

"She's looked different each time. I don't think she's an Angel or a demon," Crowley said, ripping off a small piece of the bread she gave him and tossing it into the water. No, it wasn't good for them but who cares at this point. They were eternally connected to something.

"No, I think you're quite right. She's something else entirely. I'll have to do some research, I'll let you know if I have anything of note."

Crowley swallows, "same 'ere."

"Okay. Well then, good afternoon to you," Aziraphale tipped his hat and wandered off back to his book shop, his head completely filled with ideas of shapeshifters and witches, all sorts of creatures.

Current Day—————

Crowley parked the Bentley outside Aziraphale's shop, the wheel a slight tap before getting out. It was cold today, and he saw dozens of people shuffling into Nina's shop for some warmth. He himself was freezing but he knew even slightly suggesting to Aziraphale would earn him some pampering, blanket tucked in, hot chocolate, and near undivided angelic attention. Normally he didn't like asking for it, but it's been a weird few years with the Armageddon't, and he could use some pampering.

He felt a pang in his chest, a strange sort of pull he didn't know what to do with. What did humans do when their hearts hurt? Then it struck him - he wasn't human. Why would his heart be hurting?

"Oi, you doing okay?" A voice said from the pavement outside Aziraphale's shop. Crowley looked up, surprised to see Nina with a bag full of ingredients.

"What're you doing out

She held up the bag with a raised brow, as though he was stupid to just suggest it, "you're alright then?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. But you haven't got other staff and the place's full."

"Oh, yeah, forgot you didn't know about that." Nina said dryly. "I hired a new barista. Name's Y/N. New to town."

There it was, that pull dragging him towards her shop. He couldn't explain, tried to rack his brain as to what would want him in there. He glanced back through the windows, trying to see if anything was amiss.

Each instance with her seemed to last for a second, barely enough to know if it was the truth or a trick of the light. But Crowley had lived long enough on enough stupid planets to know that when he saw something that wasn't typically there, it wasn't a figment of his imagination. He swallowed, trying to betray anything to Nina.

"Right. Well then, better get back to it," he said, moving past her shoving his way into Aziraphale's bookshop.

"Oh Crowley, wonderful you're here-"

"Yes, yes, I'm wonderful, you're wonderful, the world's bloody wonderful. Angel, do you remember in 1865 when we saw her in St James's Park?"

There wasn't a need to clarify who the 'her' was. Aziraphale straightened, removing his spectacles from his nose. "Yes, I do."

"And you remember when you said you'd research it and report back, but never did?"

"Yes, I do. Crowley-"

"I need that research now, Angel." Crowley said quickly, not letting Aziraphale ask more pointless questions.

"Nothing came of it, dear, that's why I'd never told you. We would have sensed if she was a witch, angel, demon, or anything other supernatural. We have those senses."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Crowley, what happened? What did you see?"

"She's here."

Aziraphale's eyebrows shot up and he placed a surprise hand on his chest, not quite knowing what to do with that information. "Here?!"

"In London. In the coffee shop, in Nina's coffee shop. I - I saw her. There was a golden thread between us. I know it's her, Angel. She looks different but she has every time. It's her."

"You saw a golden thread?"

"Yes."

Aziraphale put his spectacles back on, heading for one of his bookshelves towards the back of the shop, "are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, Angel, I'm bloody positive."

"A Golden thread has never shown up before. The previous times were all the, err, the eyes. This means something." Aziraphale said, gathering the dusty book from his shelf and depositing it on his desk with a thud. "In Greek mythology the golden thread was your life line. Your life thread so to speak. Fate, destiny, the whole nine yards."

"Yes, Angel, but the Greeks were wrong and that's how we exist so what does it mean for us?" Crowley grabbed a chair and fell into it, placing a frustrated hand on his temple.

Aziraphale thumbed through pages until he found what he was looking for. He read the words, but it only helped to scrunch his brow. "This doesn't make any sense. The threads only have two colors, two avenues."

"What do the threads mean, Angel?" His tone pained in frustration. This girl was scaring him, and he couldn't explain why. As far as he knew she presented no threat to him. And yet all the same, he feared her. He wasn't a fan of the unknown. Everything had been so planned out for so long, even though he didn't like the idea of the world ending it was a plan nonetheless.

"It says here that white thread is for eternal blessings. Saints and what not. Black thread for eternal damnation. But it only exists on a human while they are alive."

"Wot? I don't see black threads on people, d'you see white threads?"

Aziraphale adjusted his spectacles, "it says here they only appear if an Angel, or in your case, dearest, a demon, specifically bless them. Or, err, curse them."

"Still, you'd think 6,000 years and I woulda seen something."

Aziraphale nodded in agreement, "I've not seen any either."

"Wait, how'd you know about all this then?" Crowley waved a hand vaguely in between Aziraphale and the book.

Aziraphale looked confused for a moment, "all this? Oh, ah, you mean how I've come to know about the threads? Well it is to my understanding that this was brought up by Michael -"

"Head honcho Michael?" Crowley asked.

"Yes, though I wouldn't use such human terms myself. Michael had thought it up around 100BC. Thought it would be a fun way of identifying humans. But the upstairs didn't fancy the idea, She dispelled it not too long after."

"Hmm... never woulda pictured that out of Michael."

"Well, they say you never really know someone." Aziraphale replied, looking back over the pages as Crowley began to ramble.

"Always thought that applied to killers. No one ever says that 'bout the good deeds, they only say it after you've hurt someone. If someone's killed a kid, everyone's all up in arms like 'you never really knew 'em.' But if someone's a paramedic no one's like 'you never really know-'"

Aziraphale felt his jaw drop open as the words at the bottom of the page finally clicked. Part of the reason Michael's plan never worked, at least according to Gabriel, was that the wording was too specific. "No one uses 'eternally' in their everyday vocabulary," he had argued. Back then Aziraphale had quite agreed with Gabriel, but everyone agreed with Gabriel if it meant shutting Michael up. But he remembered a time not long before the thread idea was vanished when he had used the word 'eternally' in conversation. He reread to be sure, then piped up over Crowley's random complaining, "C-Crowley... do you remember what you said to her in 55BC?"

Crowley's face scrunched as he tried to think all the way back. "I, uh, tripped her. On accident, then she called me an asshole and I-I damned her for eternity I think."

"Oh dear."

"What does this 'oh dear' me? Angel?" When Aziraphale didn't say anything Crowley got up, stalking over to him quickly. "What did you see?"

"I blessed her for eternity."

"So? What's that mean?"

"I-I think, and I could be very very wrong, however I think that means we've, err, we've trapped her soul in an endless strain between Heaven and Hell."

"No, no, no, no," Crowley started to say, unconsciously pacing as he tried to unravel it all in his head. "That doesn't make any sense. Her thread is gold, white and black don't make gold. It makes grey, she should be grey!"

"I think the color of her thread is far from our biggest issue, Crowley."

"So, so what? She's trapped to us?"

Aziraphale ran a hand down his face, trying to process. "I- she might be."

"But her body's changed each time. It's not the same woman."

"Ah, but her eyes. They've stayed the same. You know as well as I do they're the same."

Crowley stopped, knowing he didn't have grounds to argue. Aziraphale was right, after all. Then he groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Fucking hell-"

"Language," Aziraphale said with pursed lips.

"Wot? For the fucking or the hell part?" Crowley snapped, then upon seeing Aziraphale's dropped expression he immediately retracted. "I'm sorry. That was rude. You're not getting the stupid dance though. Angel, she's not immortal. Her soul is. She must just keep being, being reborn. But the soul from 55BC is still the same."

"That would make sense," Aziraphale said. "They do say the eyes are the window into the soul. Perhaps that explains why they remain while the rest of her can change."

"Yeah, yeah. It makes sense, don't it?"

"So we've accidentally trapped a human soul to Earth to live and die for eternity?"

"Yeah, yeah," Crowley sniffed. "Think we did, Angel."

There was a quiet pause as the two reflected on what they just realized. They, unwittingly, had created an immortal creature. She doesn't even know she's immortal, and by the past experience it sounds as if her mind is wiped with each death. But her soul lives on.

"Fuck," Aziraphale said quietly.

Crowley looked up sharply, "wot'd you say?"

"I said fuck." He repeated, with more confidence this time around.

On any normal circumstance, Crowley would laugh and cherish the moment he saw Aziraphale curse - and with fuck of all of them - but he couldn't help but think Aziraphale was right. Fuck, indeed.

"What do we do?" Crowley asked.

"We have to tell her."

"We do? Why's that? What d'ya think we're gonna say? Hi random stranger I'm a demon he's an Angel and your soul is stuck, here have a cuppa."

"Well that would be straightforward -"

"Sarcasm, Angel. You've been here for thousands of years and you still don't process sarcasm."

Aziraphale stood up and went over to Crowley, touching his shoulders so he'd look up to him. "I understand that this is difficult. This is, it's entirely unprecedented territory. But she deserves the truth." He leaned in, his voice but a whisper. "It does help that we both feel a pull to her. Once we see her, it hurts to no interact. Perhaps we can find a way to end this, to help her."

Crowley swallowed, looking away from Aziraphale's bright blue eyes. He smelled of vanilla and old books, a scent Crowley would bottle up and spray all over his stupid, cold flat if he could. Maybe this girl could help, maybe she was good. But they first needed to meet her.

"Alright. Fine. Let's go, now," Crowley said, sliding his sunglasses back on. Aziraphale nodded and retrieved his coat.

The pair walked out of the bookshop, locking up, and swiftly walked cross the street. They hesitated outside the door, neither knowing what to do. A flash of a blue apron in the window caught their attention, and then a golden thread, shining in the light, emerged and wrapped round the owners waist.

"You seeing that, Angel?"

"Y-yes, I am. It's not faded."

It didn't. It sparkled and swayed in the air, moving with the owners body as she walked around in the shop.

"On three," Aziraphale said. Crowley grumbled in agreement. "One, two ... three."

They opened the doors and were almost immediately greeted by a sweet smile and kind eyes. The same eyes they'd seen for hundreds of years. She smiled, tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

"Hi guys, welcome in! Feel free to take a seat wherever you like, I'll be with you in a moment."

"O-okay," Aziraphale said, his voice wispy in the confusion and whirlwind that was her. But she was entirely unaware, blissfully living in her own world that she didn't know was about to be ruined.

They sat in a far corner, away from any windows. Crowley sprawled in the seat, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale. Aziraphale sat stiff as a bored, left leg bouncing so furiously the table itself started to shake.

"Right, what can I get you lads?" She seemed to appear out of nowhere, shining golden thread wrapped round her sweet waist right where the apron was tied.

Aziraphale spoke first, not looking her in the eye but instead staring out the window. An uncharacteristically rude action on his part. "Oh, um, just a latte please. With 3 shots of vanilla."

"Ooo, yum. And for you, the one with the glasses?" She asked, her voice light.

Crowley thought for a moment. Better bite the bullet, eh? He turned, took his sunglasses off, and looked her in the eyes. "Espresso, darling."

Her eyes had a golden flash and she seemed to jump, her pad falling to the table in her shock. She looked between Aziraphale and Crowley with wide eyes, hands going to her stomach as she took deep breaths. "Aziraphale. Your name is Aziraphale," she said to him. Eyes wide. She turned to the demon. "You're Crowley."

"Yes, dear, we are."

"Why do I know that?" Her voice was shaky and yet she stayed, not angry or scared that she knew unknowable information.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance. Crowley sighed, flicking his hand. Time around them stopped. Customers held their mugs up in the air, Nina mid pouring a cup, and a man getting ready to ask for the most ridiculous drink he could think of. All were trapped in this moment except for her, Aziraphale and Crowley.

She jumped, looking around with wide eyes, "h-how'd you do that? Why did you do that?"

"Please, take a seat dear," Aziraphale said, snapping as a plush chair appeared behind her. She tripped into it, her body language stuff and frightened.

"This is all feeling like a very strange dream, and I don't like it," she said, taking deep breaths to try and clear her mind. "Did you just stop time and if so, how the hell did you? And you just miraculously created a chair? And why do I know who the hell you are?"

"Dearest, it's not a dream, I'm afraid. You have met us before. You've met us multiple times before," Aziraphale took a breath. "I-I'm afraid we have some complicated news."

"Tell me who the hell you are!" She was getting scared, her heart fighting against her rib cage. She wanted to get up, she wanted to run away, put her hands over her ears and scream 'la la la' over and over until they left her alone. But she didn't. It wasn't a physical thing, even though these familiar strangers had put her in a terrifying position she knew they'd let her go. It was her soul that kept her trapped. "Who are you? I need to know. Who are you really?"

Aziraphale placed a warm hand on her own. His was large, soft and yet strong. She liked the feeling of his hands as he held one of hers, looking into her eyes. "My name is Aziraphale. I am an Angel of God. I was the Guardian of the East Gate at the Garden of Eden, but now I am on Earth. I perform miracles and I run a bookshop, with my dearest friend."

His eyes glanced over to the other man. He was handsome, tanned skin with fiery red hair slicked up and back over his head. Aziraphale might have called him a friend, but she wasn't stupid enough to believe that. It was more than that, maybe they didn't know it but she definitely did.

Another hand grasped hers, this one lean and long. He grasped her hand with a soft intensity she didn't know possible. "My name's Crowley. I'm a demon, you'd know me cause I was a, uh, let's call me a reptile."

She blinked rapidly, "you were the snake that tempted Eve?"

"Wow, she's a quick one," Crowley smiled widely.

"Wasn't he cursed to only use his belly?"

Crowley rolled his eyes, "it's complicated."

"You, both, are not human. You're an Angel and you're a demon. So Christianity is right."

"Yes, love. But God is actually a She, that bit got muddled," Aziraphale smiled. "Are you feeling better?"

"That doesn't explain, why- why do I know you? I recognize both of you, but I don't know why. Then you made that comment about having met me multiple times, for years, what does that mean?" She was getting a little riled but she tried to stay calm. This wasn't going to make any more sense by screaming at a literal demon. And Angel, but the demon was more infuriating at the moment. He stared at her with a mix of awe and shock, and she didn't want to think about any of it.

Aziraphale sighed, "before the current era, you know Roman times and what not, the Archangel Michael played with the idea of threads. It was similar in concept to the Greek idea of fate -"

"You happened to be alive when this was a thing. It means when a demon curses you and says the word 'eternally' a black thread'll appear to let everyone know you're damned forever. White thread with angels."

"I'm damned forever? Wait, you said Roman times - I was alive during the ancient roman era?"

"Well, darling, he blessed you and I cursed you at the same day. Meaning your soul is trapped with both Heaven and Hell," Crowley said softly. "We think your soul has been reincarnated since about 55BC. And it's because of us. This Golden shit you see is our connection."

"But white and black make grey?"

Crowley clapped and said "aha! She gets it!"

"Crowley," Aziraphale said, though his eyes were light with amusement. "We can't explain the color of the thread. But we believe it means you're connected to us. Both of us, we get this pull to you when you're around. As though we have to see you."

There was a moment of silence as they let her collect her thoughts. Unconsciously, she'd curled up into a ball on the comfy chair Aziraphale had miracled. She thought and thought, rolling over the idea that she's trapped here on earth. An accidental immortal being tied to these two.

She glanced at Aziraphale. She knew him, she has known him. She bit her lip, wishing to understand everything as it was.

"M-May I?" She asked, tentatively lifting a hand near his face. She needed to touch him, to feel him, to try and remember.

The Angel nodded. He was soft, his hair light and white, in short curls on top of his head. She liked the curls, they looked rather fetching on him. Her fingertips brushed lightly down his face, feeling his kind face. She liked his lips, they were pink and couldn't fight a smile. Then she glanced down and saw his hand in his lap. Running an hand down his shoulder to his hand, she lifted it and eyed the golden ring.

"Aziraphale..." she murmured. It all started to fall into place. The dancing, the food, the wine. He'd looked so out of place in pale clothing, so obviously finer than anyone else's. He'd tried to blend in with an outdated style, to balance the richness, but she could spot him through the crowd with ease. His cheeks had gotten pink, and he'd gone for a drink. She hadn't meant to spill on him, she just wanted a chat. "I gave you this ring. You didn't want it at first, but I gave it to you. It says Aziraphale on it."

He took a shaky breath, his eyes becoming glassy with tears. His lips trembled as he said, "you did."

Aziraphale slid the ring off his finger, turning it so she could see the inside. There enough his name was scrawled in haphazard writing. It had faded from the years, some of the details lost to time. But she remembered this ring when it was new. When William had gotten it in his shop and didn't know what to make of it. And she'd taken it, knew it would be special.

She pressed a soft kiss to the ring, then slid it back on Aziraphale's finger. She looked him in the eyes as she kissed the back of his hand, "I remember you."

The tears had actually fallen now, hitting his cheeks softly. He didn't try to hide it, and she wouldn't want him to. Perhaps it was this whole eternal blessing thing, but she was drawn to him.

Then she turned to the demon. Crowley. He sat high and mighty in his chair, looking away as though he were intruding on Aziraphale's private moment. He was handsome in a different way than Aziraphale. Where Aziraphale was soft and strong, Crowley was sharp and sweet. She smiled when she looked at him, knowing he was sweet without saying it.

She went to him to, lifting her hand then asking softly, "may I touch you?"

He swallowed, and nodded. She first touched his hair, it was softer then it looked. Her fingertips brushed it so it feel on his forehead, liking the contrast of his skin against the red. Then she traced along his tattoo, the way his cheekbone felt under her touch.

With gentle hands, she cupped his cheeks and turned his face so he had to look her in the eyes. She smiled. "I'd wondered if they were still yellow."

He closed his eyes, cringing. He'd always hated his eyes. "Sorry they're-"

"Beautiful." He opened his eyes quickly. "I remember your eyes. They've been in my dreams and I never knew why. The man with the yellow snake eyes. They are so, so beautiful. Like a sunflower."

"You're comparing s'demon eyes to a sunflower?"

She smiled and nodded, "you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

Crowley sucked in a breath, closing his eyes. It as though the attention itself would make him implode.

"Keep them closed," she said. Then he felt a pair of soft lips kiss one eyelid, then the other. "Absolutely beautiful. Don't you think so, Aziraphale?"

Crowley was shocked to hear Aziraphale agree. "I adore your eyes, dear. They've been my favorite for a long time."

The three didn't know what to do with themselves, time frozen around them. But however strange the situation, she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. She wanted to get to know this Angel and demon, understand their pasts and more about their connection.

“Thank you, my dear, for your patience,” Aziraphale said kindly.

“I suppose I should be thanking you, you’ve waited hundreds of years.” She said with a dry laugh that made Crowley smile.

There weren’t any words that seemed to describe the moment the three of them shared, in a moment frozen in time knowing they had all the time in the world. But for now it was enough, and that was all it needed to be.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

This is a pretty serious topic, so feel free to not answer if you don't want to.

How would the Sdv and Sve bachelor/ette's react to the Farmer (who's their partner) flinching when they moved suddenly? As in, the farmer subconsciously thought their partner was about to hit them

Oof...

Pretty dark topic, but I want pain and glass so why not 🥲 Thanks so much for the question, dear anon 💕

⚠️Warning: angst, mention of past abusive relationship/physical abuse, mention of domestic violence, swearing, and a lot of hurt/comfort

_________________________________________

Stardew Valley:

SDV bachelors:

Shane had never had such a desire to break someone's nose. To punch with all his might, to break a jaw, to knock out teeth, to make the bastard who dared to raise a hand against Farmer regret their cowardice and wish they'd never been born. Too bad they're somewhere far away... No, it's not a pity, let this fucking asshole die in their hellhole. What's important right now that Farmer's here, and Shane's gonna be right there with them. He's gonna suggest that Farmer go to therapy. It really helps, Shane's realized that himself. And he'll be there for Farmer, he'll never leave them. And would never hit them.

Alex knows all too well why Farmer flinched like that, and his heart filled with rage. The same way his mom clutched herself, hiding her face from the heavy hand of her alcoholic husband... The very thought that his dearest Farmer, the love of his life, had thought he would hit them, that Alex would be like his father, made him shiver with unbridled hatred for whoever had made Farmer feel that way. But the athlete will calm himself down, and do whatever it takes to help and protect Farmer. He would never, ever hit them. Never.

Sam has a look of utter confusion on his face. "Babe, what's wrong?" The young guitarist was just chasing flies, and now doesn't understand why Farmer hid their face in their hands. Is something wrong? Why do they look like they're crying? When Farmer tells him the reason (which they were previously afraid to tell), Sammy's heart just cracks to pieces. He will put his arms around Farmer and slowly rock them. If they are comfortable, Sam will listen to them carefully and try to cheer them up, showering them with kisses and affectionate words.

Elliott would simply become speechless. "My love, you didn't think I'd..." He can't even get the words out. He knows that Farmer's relatives treated them horribly, his partner have told the writer about it. He knows that recovering from such trauma will not be easy or quick. Elliott won't leave them alone with the trouble. But did they really thought that Elliott would allow himself to fall so low and raise his hand against them? The writer's in tears. It hurts him, but Elliott is in no way angry with Farmer. No, he loves them with all his heart.

Sebastian would never forget the moment in his childhood when his biological father was ready to slap him. Luckily, Robin managed to catch the man's arm before that, and Sebby never saw his bio father again. As he grew older, Sebastian realized exactly what that man had intended to do. He was disgusted to even think of doing that to anyone, much less the person he loves and adore endlessly. He would take the Farmer's hands, look them in the eye, and tell them that he loved them and would never, under any circumstances, raise a hand against them.

Harvey will put Farmer in a hug, but the doctor still won't be able to hold back the tears. Harvey knows that Farmer has only recently, on the advice of their beloved husband, sought professional help, that progress won't be immediate, and that it takes a very long, long time to work at it. But for Harvey, every time Farmer flinches at their husband's sudden movement is like the first time - shock, confusion, sadness, pain. And even worse when the Farmers began to blame themselves for this behavior. No, Farmer, it's not your fault. Harvey won't let their partner think it's their fault.

_________________________________________

SDV bachelorettes:

Abigail is hella confused.... Why are they flinched? Wha- What do they mean!? She loves Farmer, how did they even think of that?! Abby got angry, but would quickly cool down and start apologizing to an even more frightened Farmer. She didn't mean to yell at them like that, but the image that her partner thought she would take a swing at them just threw her off. Ugh, if those creeps who had hurt Farmer came to the Valley, then the amethyst lover would pelt them with such stink bombs that even the skunks would turn their noses away from them. Hehehe, good thing that made Farmer laugh. Right, fuck those bastards.

Leah can't believe her ears. Farmer, she is holding an axe! How could they think that their wife would dare swing at them with a sharp axe?! The fact that someone actually tried to swing something like that at Farmer made the blood in the artist's veins boil. She wasn't angry at Farmer, naturally, but at the bastard who'd treated Farmer like that. And don't let her partner worry: if their ex abuser dared to come in the Stardew Valley, Leah would definitely use her axe... Okay, maybe not so radical, but this person won't lay a finger on her precious partner. She'll defend them to the last, that's for sure.

Penny is a very peaceful, fragile and gentle girl. How can anyone imagine that she is capable of such a thing - to hit Farmer, love of her life? For a young teacher, family is sacred! Her spouse, her children, it's... She will never agree with the people who justify violence and abuse with "discipline" or "tough love". For in Penny's mind, someone who can easily hurt a loved one is not worthy of those loved ones. The red-haired girl bursts into tears. She cannot calmly see how Farmer is scared and hurt because of their ex. But she will find the way to help them. Together, they will overcome it.

Maru was upset at first, because she thought that the Farmer was afraid of her next invention (she could not forget the humiliating incident when they were electrocuted). Only after a couple of seconds Maru realized that they looked with fear not at her device lying on the table, but at herself. She doesn't understand what's wrong. It's not like she has any super dangerous wires or parts with her, see? What? The Farmer thought Maru was going to... hit them? She loves them! Never, you heard her, Farmer, she would never....

Emily is a person who values life and the comfort of every creature. Happiness and positive emotions for everyone around her, especially for her close people and friends. Because of this, the very thought of Farmer hiding their face from what they thought was a punch made the blue-haired girl upset. Farmer had told her about their... not-so-good relatives, who left her lover with this trauma. Emily tries her best to make the house as comfortable as possible for Farmer, and they know it and will always be grateful to their loving wife.

Haley had had partners in the past who, as she found out later, lived by the principle of "beats means love". She wouldn't let those pieces of shit around her anymore, and made a promise to herself never to get involved with such people and never to fall to their level. And Farmer flinched so much at Haley's sudden movement made her remember her exes. She is furious. But right now, the most important thing to her was her beloved Farmer. Haley apologizes for the sudden move, shares her experience and wisdom on how she handled the abuse earlier, and assures Farmer that she will never do to them what Haley's exes tried to do to her.

_________________________________________

Stardew Valley Expanded:

SVE bachelors:

Lance had many swordsmanship and magic teachers in his youth. Almost all of them were excellent and taught him many things that helped him in life. There were some that set impossible conditions for Lance, and when he failed, took up their tools to punishment... Lance had the guts to stand up to it, and there were also people who stood up for him. Farmer didn't have anyone to help then, and Lance won't let that happen again. He genuinely loves Farmer and he wouldn't dare let himself fall so low. They vowed to each other to share both joy and sorrow together. Lance will always love them.

Magnus faced various conflicts when he was married for the first time. Misunderstandings, quarrels, arguments - it's quite natural for a couple. But the wizard would never, ever raise a hand against his partner, and he would despise anyone who justified violence and abuse of authority. He would immediately calm the shuddering Farmer and begin to comfort them. If those pathetic excuse of humans showed up at their farm, Magnus would disintegrate them with a snap of his fingers. Ministry rules? There's a one rule in the Mage Law that allows the use of magic for self-defence and the protection of loved ones. So let the Farmer not worry about this.

Victor, overwhelmed with the good news about his bridge-building practice, raised both arms to hug Farmer, but immediately pulled back when he saw how much they flinched. "Honey, did I do something wrong?" "You didn't... You're not going to hit me, are you?" "What?...." If anyone heard the sound of cracking glass, know this - Victor's heart had shattered into a thousand shards. The spaghetti lover was confused for a few moments, but pulled himself together and cautiously approached the Farmer. Victor hugged them tightly, allowing his partner to snuggle into his shoulder and cry while Victor listened to them, slowly rocking and covering them with kisses.

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SVE bachelorettes:

Olivia is not mad at Farmer in any way. And quickly put a stop to all their attempts to make themselves look guilty for being so flummoxed by the sudden movement of Olivia's hand. Her partner has been victimized in the past by the simply disgusting treatment from the scum who dared to reach out their paws to Farmer has spurred Olivia to pull up all her connections in the city. She knows their names and all the information she needs to turn their lives into a nightmare. In the meantime, Olivia herself will devote all her attention to her precious Farmer and family.

Claire could not have imagined that her desire to show her partner a new ballet movement she had learnt would end like... this: Farmer shivers slightly and looks at the red-haired girl with a share of fear, while Claire stands still, motionless as if struck by lightning. The former Jojarmart cashier slowly and carefully walks over to Farmer and asks permission to hug them. The Farmer agreed, of course, and before launching into an endless stream of words about how it was their own fault, Claire only reassured them and continued to hug them. She was now too shocked that the Farmer had thought Claire would dare to injure them....

Sophia was completely unaware of what had just happened: the pink-haired girl raised her hand for her partner to high-five, but instead they covered their heads with their hands as if expecting a punch. Had she done something wrong? What, did the farmer really expect a punch? She... She... If Sophia tried to say anything, Farmer wouldn't understand anything anyway - the flood of tears on Sophia's face and the lump in her throat from crying interrupted all words. She would hug the Farmer, hold onto them like a lifeline and sob. She would say through her sobs that she loved them very much and would never be a monster like those who had hurt Farmer.

_________________________________________

[rizsu]

wants can hurt and sometimes kill. gojo satoru ( insane version )

have you ever wanted something so badly you came to hate it when you got your hands on it?

+ extra. he's a stalker + gaslighter combo, you die, can u guess the reference for this lil drabble 🌚

satoru has his needs. regardless of how important they may be, his wants will always overpower his needs. his needs are but a fraction of what he craves.

some say he's the attention seeker; his random outbursts immediately direct all kinds attention on him. the untold truth? satoru doesn't want attention — especially if it's yours. he wants to crave you, wants to remain daydreaming about "what ifs", wants to stalk from behind you like another shadow.

you shouldn't have returned his love. couldn't you do what they all do and ignore his advances? he didn't want to do what he did but you — you pushed him. the crippling love you two shared tumbled over like a stack of plastic cups in the wind: fragile, risky, yet determined to finish the piece.

you were ultimately satoru's perfect karma. his want for you destroyed him before he knew it. or maybe, just maybe, he already had his suspicions.

satoru wasn't an easy love, nor was he tough love. he lingered around you, manipulating reality so that your fate forever determined by his course of actions. he doesn't feel any guilt for his actions. instead, he blames you for this. "had you just," became his favourite sentence starter.

it's your fault for finding him attractive. your fault for giving into his love. your fault for ignoring the alarming danger signs sticking out from him like a sore thumb. your fault for calling him "insane", and "obsessive". why curse him when you knew what you were getting into?

he was content with stalking you. many times he shamelessly dropped hints that he's been illegally watching your every move. even his closest friends warned you indirectly.

"i think it'll be best to break it off with satoru," they'd say, following their concern with anything along the lines of "he's not right mentally."

"it's okay, i'm sure i can tolerate it," you'd always respond with a smile, foolishly overestimating yourself.

you loved a rose, he was a thorn.

on paper your relationship with satoru was perfect. he worshipped every cell on your body, inside and outside. he'd always be next to you, to some concern, or he'd be just a phone-call away. satoru never left your side.

you thought of him as your hero; every time you were nearing danger, satoru would jump out just in time. the sweet lie is more wanted than the bitter truth.

arguments never went overboard, he'd hate to have you mad at him. no matter what he did, satoru would always make sure his day revolved around you.

isn't he the perfect prince charming? he knew every detail about yourself. even some you had no knowledge of. you had no clue of your habit of pressing your lips into a thin line whenever things get awkward, but he did.

"have you ever loved someone so much that you begin to hate them?" a question satoru never understood, but he came to.

he loved you so much that he wanted to be in your skin. that love, when returned, transformed into a bubbling hatred.

somewhere down the line satoru found your every action disturbing. your smile he once adored became the reason he'd be annoyed. whenever something went wrong, he'd jokingly blame you but it's not a joke anymore.

the hate, combined with the love, drove him mad. there were times he became disgusted at his own hate for you, so he'd show you his love until dawn broke. but that's as much as it went.

it happened unplanned. it was another repetitive night of him blankly staring at the ceiling. the day itself was rough, nothing went right. you pitied him and sympathized when he came home. it made his goosebumps raise. you're so loving it disturbed him. couldn't you catch the hint and treat him like shit too?

he couldn't stand it. he had to get rid of it.

while you enjoyed your slumber, he sat up. satoru re-positioned himself so that he's hovering over you. his hands circled around your throat, squeezing down as tight as he can. he stayed like that for few minutes — until he told himself it was enough.

you had to go, don't blame him. don't haunt him. understand him. he had to — there was no other choice.

hopefully, if it's a fairytale, time can turn back to where he was your stalker and not lover. for now, he'll wallow until another "her" appears.

[dovveri]

could you love me while i hate myself?

synopsis: y/n, nayeon, momo, and sana are in a polyamorous relationship. momo walks in on y/n self-harming for the first time in 7 months. they all try and talk and work through this together.

warnings: we got depression, suicidal ideation, self-harm (cutting), blood, sexual references, cursing - also this is poly!namosa if ur not into that but i love getting comfort from everyone i love so

w/c: 6.9k

a/n: sooo i wrote this in a day bcs im utilising my #depression as inspiration and lwk we love writing as a coping mechanism - i’m so fine tho i just need my meds to start working again LMAO and they will vvvv soon trust - but in the meantime i can pump out the sad stuff hehe! lwk forgot abt boo and dobby until like halfway thru writing this IM SO SORRY #fakefan and i wasn't bothered to write them back in so they js don't exist here oops!

⸸

fuck. fuck fuck fuck. the thoughts were coming. you wake up hazily, dream forgotten, arms wrapped around nayeon, legs entangled with the three people you loved most in the world. you don't deserve them. shut up!

you shut your eyes, trying to will away the thoughts. they were always there, always in the back of your head, always nagging, telling you that you didn't deserve to live, that you were a worthless piece of flesh born only to cause others suffering, or born with no purpose at all. there's no point to it all. just die. they'd be better off without you. they'd be happier without you.

you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. it was so loud. you needed them to be quiet. to return to the depths of your mind. you curl in closer to nayeon, trying to breathe in the scent of her to distract you, feeling sana's breath on your hand, listening to momo's soft snores, they were the only thing grounding you. they pity you. that's why they've stuck around for so long. they know if they left you you'd break. they don't love you. it's pity. they'd be happier together. just the three of them. they didn't need you. you needed them. you were a burden to them. you need to leave so they can be happy. you want the best for them don't you? SHUT UP.

you couldn't take it anymore, you slowly unwrap yourself from your girlfriends. slipping your arms from around nayeon's waist and pulling your legs away from the mess of limbs. you look back at them, sleeping peacefully, watch their chests rise up and down with each breath, it's bittersweet. you had so much love for them. you turn around again and slip out the door, closing it softly behind you.

you pad softly towards the bathroom, entering it quietly and sighing, looking at yourself in the mirror. dark circles under red eyes, messy hair, disgusting. look at you. how could anyone love you? the thoughts were louder in the bathroom. almost echoing off crisp white walls. your grip on the sink tightens, you tear your gaze away from the mirror, letting your tears fall into the sink silently. why did i have be born like this? born like this? honey you're not different. everyone else is able to cope fine with trauma, with all the shit that happens in the world. you're just weak. weak, crying little bitch who can't deal with a couple sad emotions. don't think you're special. you're not. why can't i feel normal? you're not normal. you never will be. you'll always be that weird kid on the playground that no one wants to play with. grow up and get used to it already. why won't you leave me alone? i can't leave you alone. i am you. you are me. we're stuck together.

your head's splitting, you don't even realise you're crouched in on yourself now. hands gripping your head, nails digging into your scalp, anything to try and stop thinking. you wish you could just go back to sleep. sleep was easy. you didn't have to think when you were asleep.

that's right. sleep. sleep forever. run away from your problems. that's all you'll ever be good at right? running away. you ran away from your parents when they found out you were dating not one, not two, but three girls! whore! you left your brother and sister with them. they probably got the brunt of their anger. or maybe not. maybe they hate you too for being a fucking disappointment. it doesn't matter. they don't care about you. you left them. now leave your girlfriends. it'll be easier. leave. leave. run. do it.

your lip is trapped between your teeth. you're biting down so hard it draws blood. you're rocking yourself on the floor of the bathroom. pathetic. all you do is cry. grow up already. you can't take it. it was too much. you needed- needed-

you're reaching for the loose tile you know is second from the towel rack, opening it and finding your stash of emergency goods. you had meant to throw it away you just kept avoiding it and now... well you needed it now.

you take out a scalpel, go into the old routine of cleaning it down with an alcohol wipe, the motions that are familiar to you helping you drown out the thoughts already. they're still there though. they were always there. you'd be lonely without us wouldn't you? you actually enjoy being mentally ill don't you? take some sort of sick pleasure in it? is it comforting? it's easy to fall back into old habits isn't it?

once it's clean, you can see clearly again. you remove your pants, spreading your legs and look down at the scars that decorate the insides of your thighs. you take a breath, clearing your head as best you can, and bring the tip of the scalpel to start a new line.

the immediate relief when the blade enters your skin and you watch the scarlet liquid pour out of you is incredible. you're like an addict, drinking in the pain and using it to clear your mind. suddenly, the only sound you hear is the quiet of the bathroom and your own shallow breathing. you've never felt more at peace.

but it's only temporary. like everything is only temporary. seriously? this again? is this the best you can do to try and get rid of me? we talked about this you idiot. you're never getting rid of me. because we're the same. you just made yourself even uglier. congrats. good luck getting your girlfriends to ever touch you again after they see those.

fucking hell. you can't help it when your hands move to the start again, just under the new line you've created. you're about to push in again when you hear a gasp.

you look up in alarm, bloody scalpel in your hand, fresh cut on your thigh.

"m-momo."

"y/n- what-"

"it's not what it looks like i swear- fuck- oh my god- mo- please-" you're scrambling, trying to pull up your pants and cover yourself, dropping the scalpel onto the floor with a clang.

she's on you in seconds.

"no no sweetie it's okay i'm not- it's okay it's okay-" she's pulling you into a hug, and you start sobbing.

you're burrowing your head into her neck, sniffling and crying, she wasn't meant to find out. they were never meant to find out. now you've done it. good luck keeping them now. no way they're going to stay with you after this. better breathe her in while you can because she won't be yours in the morning.

you're squeezing her tight, crying and blabbering into her and she lets you. hushing and brushing through your hair, pressing light kisses along your forehead.

when she starts to pull away you panic, shaking your head against her, terrified she's leaving you and this is it.

"no sweetie i'm not going anywhere. i promise. we just gotta clean you up okay?"

she pulls away from you gently, opening the cabinets next to the sink to grab the first aid kit and comes down to sit next to you.

your sobs have ceded but you can't bear to look at her, staring down at the ugly scars on your legs.

"can i?" momo makes a gesture towards your legs and you shrug, moving closer to her so she can work.

she's quiet when she cleans the wound, focused.

you idiot you stupid fucking idiot. she hates you she thinks you're so gross and-

"do the others know?"

you don't trust your voice to speak so you shake your head.

"is this why you never let us touch you?"

you blush bright red, gripping the bottom of your shirt.

"you know we wouldn't have judged right?"

the tears are coming back, you feel them building up in your neck again, clogging it up, choking you.

"i'm sorry if we made you feel like we would have." momo's voice breaks then, and you look up. momo wasn't one to cry. sana tended to be the more emotional one, nayeon and momo cried too, just less often and definitely more private, momo just took a little longer to come to conclusions sometimes.

"y-you didn't." your voice is croaky when you speak up.

she sniffles a little, finishing cleaning and grabbing the bandages.

"a-are you mad?"

she sighs. "not mad. just... confused."

"i-i- i'm sorry. i'm sorry i didn't tell you guys i didn't- i thought you would think- i thought you might leave or think i'm too much or i don't know i-"

she finishes wrapping the bandage around your thighs, looking up at you then, her eyes shiny. "i could never leave you y/n. i love you. all of you. you, nayeon, and sana are my family."

you're crying again now, hands coming up to wipe at your tears. she gently helps you put your pants back on then pulls you into another hug, breathing shakily as she lets herself cry as well.

you cling onto her shirt, the confirmation that she was still here and she still loved you grounded you.

you both sit on the bathroom floor there, tightly wound around each other. you memorise the way her breathing comes in and out, focusing on the little hiccups, every single movement. it was quiet.

she pulls away from you, hands coming up to cup your cheeks, thumbs swiping along them. "do you want to talk about it?"

you shake your head.

"do you want to come back to bed then?"

you think a little, "i might sleep in the guest room tonight. i don't really... it's not that i don't want to sleep with you guys, i just-"

"is it okay if i join you in the guest room then?"

you look surprised, "why?"

"it's okay if you don't want me to. i just want to be with you if that's okay. to make sure you're safe for one, but also just because..." she sniffs, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear gently, "i love you and i want to make sure you sleep well."

the tears well up again. "of course. it's not you i just- i don't want sana and nayeon to find out like this."

momo nods, pressing a gentle kiss onto your nose, "i understand. do you want anything before bed? water? a snack?"

you smile tiredly against her, still in a sort of disbelief she was still here. "i'm okay. let's go to bed."

momo nods again, standing up and pulling you with her, but she stops again suddenly, looking down, "does it hurt?"

you wince, "not really. i mean the point is kinda for it to hurt." your eyes widen when momo frowns, "but it doesn't! not anymore i mean. i kinda got used to it." her frown deepens, "i mean no not like that! like- well yes- but-"

"it's okay y/n. i want to know these things. if you're okay with sharing them." she's sincere when she looks at you, and then she's pulling you along towards the guest room. your heart drops a little when you pass by the master bedroom, thinking of nayeon and sana sleeping peacefully inside, wrapped around each other blissfully unaware, but momo squeezes your hand and you look back towards her, following her into the guest room.

she turns on the lamp light and starts removing all the extra pillows and everything that were only really there for decoration. once she's done, she starts ushering you into bed and you laugh a little at her earnestness, "you don't have to treat me any different momo. i'm still the same person."

she frowns, climbing into bed after you, "i just found out about a massive part of your life that you've been hiding from us. you're not the same person to me. not when i've only known half of you."

you still at that, unable to look her in the eye as she fumbles around with the blanket, covering both of you and then sliding an arm over your side.

"i'm sorry." you whisper once she's turned off the light and snuggled in close to you.

she takes a breath, "you don’t have to be sorry. i'm here now. i'm sorry it took me so long. but i'm here now. and i'm not leaving."

"even if i'm not the same person to you anymore?"

she finds your eyes in the darkness, "y/n i didn't mean it like that. i fell in love with half of you. i just found out there's another half that i can also love now. you're the same person, you just have more to you than we knew. and i want to know more about that so i can be a better girlfriend for you."

"you already are a great girlfriend."

she sighs, a hand trailing down your back, drawing random shapes, you curl in closer to her.

"i wanted to throw it all away. i wanted to tell you all. i just-"

she hums, letting you think out your words, continuing to trace patterns into your back, eyes locked on yours.

"it was hard. and i didn't think i'd need to say anything because i was doing good. i hadn't done it in so long. i don't know why today i just- i lost control again."

"y'know nayeon would say just because you haven't done it in so long doesn't mean you were better. it just means you stopped thinking about it but that didn't get rid of the problem. which is why eventually the problem came back."

you smile at her, poking her cheek, "you've been hanging out too much with nayeon."

momo whines, "we're girlfriends! of course i hang out with her!"

"you're right though. i'm sorry. i stopped cutting when we all started dating. i think i got swept up in all the excitement and the love but once the novelty wore off and i grew more comfortable with being in a relationship with all of you, some of the bad thoughts started to come back."

"what sort of bad thoughts?"

"...like that i'm not good enough for you- or that the three of you would be happier without me, or that i don't want to... that i didn’t deserve to live or that it’d be better if i wasn’t- y’know… alive-"

you can see the shine in momo's eyes and feel your own start to well up again while you talk. she lets you speak though, just lays there, stroking your back softly while listening to you.

when you're finished its quiet save for the occasional sniffle from either of you.

"do you still think that? that you're not good enough for us?"

you hum contemplating whether to be honest or to try not to hurt her, you decide you’ve hurt her enough and it was time to be honest, she was still here after all, she wasn’t going to leave you, "...yeah."

she's pressing her lips gently against yours, barely there, almost as if she's asking permission, and you press against her softly back to say yes. you can taste the salt of her tears in the kiss, its short, reassuring. you break away with a tender smile.

"i can't speak for the others. but i don't think we could work if we weren't the four of us. you know that sana and i tried to date when we were younger right? and it didn't work out? because we always felt like there was something missing. but once we all got together, it feels right to love each other like this. i think it'd be the same if you left. i think it'd feel like something was missing and i wouldn't be able to stay either. i'm not saying that to pressure you into staying like a 'if you leave i leave' kinda thing. i'm just saying that you are needed in this relationship and i don't think we would be happier without you, i don't even think we'd work without you, without any one of us."

god you didn't deserve her. you loved her so much.

"and the other stuff... we don't have to talk about that now but... if you're open to it in the future, i want to help you find some outside help if that's okay? you don't have to answer me now, just think about it, because i want to help, but i don't think we can do this alone."

you nod, lips quivering while she smiles at you, noses touching.

"thank you momo."

"of course sweetie. i love you."

"i love you too. so much."

she pecks you again, then places your hand over her chest, and you can feel the calm thumps of her heart.

she closes her eyes, lips only centimetres apart, you follow her lead, focusing on the feeling of her heartbeat rather than the thoughts, letting that fill your head, and slowly, you drift back into sleep.

⸸

you wake up with a dull sting on the inside of your thighs. you curse internally when you realise that it was because you had self-harmed for the first time in months. but then you feel a familiar hand tracing lines down your back, and the smell of soft peaches and you recall that momo had found you cutting yourself. but the way she's tracing your back means she's still here and she hasn't left and that you're still okay.

momo realises you're awake, moving her hand to your hair and brushing the pieces that have fallen over your face. "hi sweetie."

"mm morning. what time is it?"

she giggles a little, "its 5pm actually. i didn't want to wake you. nayeon and sana should be back home soon."

you startle, "what?! 5pm?! where did they go? did they-"

"shh shh no it's okay. i woke up early and made everyone breakfast. when they came in they asked where you were. i told them you slept in the guest bedroom because you weren't feeling well. they wanted to see you but i told them to let you rest. i don't think you should hide this from them for much longer though y/n."

you sigh, relaxing back into her embrace, "i know. i'll tell them when they get back." you can feel the anxiety beginning to chip away at you as soon as the words leave your mouth. you'd thought about it before in the past, about how they'd react. on the worst end of the spectrum, they'd leave you, thankfully momo hasn't done that yet. and realistically you don't think nayeon and sana will either. but there was always that fear in the back of your head. it was more likely that sana would feel hurt and start crying and nayeon would get angry that you didn't trust them with the information. both of which you didn't really want to deal with because you didn't want to cause any of them any negative emotions. but if you didn't tell them, it would mean forcing momo to keep a secret for you and have her constantly go around on tip-toes while worrying over you. it wouldn't be fair and you’d essentially be self-sabotaging your own relationship.

momo breaks you out of your thoughts when she uses her hand to rap lightly against your forehead, "what's going on in there sweetie?"

you shake her off giggling and she smiles, "nothing i'm just thinking about how to tell them is all."

"do you want me to be there?"

you look up at her, her eyes are sincere and caring, you could stare into them for the rest of your life, "yes please, if that's okay with you."

momo squeezes you against her even tighter, planting a kiss on your forehead and murmuring against it, "of course it's okay with me. i'd love to be there."

you smile against her, reminded of your eternal gratefulness and love you have for her, before your stomach starts to growl and you pull away embarrassed while momo starts to laugh that adorable, contagious laugh of hers.

you whine, climbing out of bed as she toddles along behind you, still laughing when you enter the bathroom.

you pick up your toothbrush and start to brush your teeth when you notice that the bathroom's been cleaned up since last night. there's no more blood on the floor and you look briefly over at momo who's standing on that tile looking at you carefully, the hint of a laugh still on her face.

"youscdonthaftawatchmeyknow."

she giggles when some toothpaste dribbles out of your mouth, tilting her head indicating she didn't catch what you said.

you spit out the toothpaste and repeat yourself, "you don't have to watch me y'know."

"i know."

you squeeze some of your facial wash into your hand, staring at her in the mirror when she doesn't move, still looking at your reflection with a gentle smile.

you shrug, closing your eyes and beginning to wash your face. you go through all the motions of your morning routine, and when you finish up and turn around to wipe your hands on the hand towel, she's still standing there watching you.

you clear your throat, leaving the bathroom and moving towards the kitchen. you hear her footsteps padding along behind you.

she overtakes you once you reach the kitchen, going towards the fridge and pulling out a few things. you sit at the kitchen benchtop and watch her reheat a few dishes that she must have made for breakfast and lunch.

"where did nayeon and sana go?"

"to the shops. we were meant to go check out that new bakery together in the city but i figured may as well let you rest, we can go another day."

"oh crap i'm so sorry i forgot! i would've woken up i'm so sorry-"

"it's okay sweetie don't worry. they were both fine to reschedule, they were more concerned about you than missing out on the bakery."

"why didn't you go out shopping with them?"

"i wanted to stay home with you."

"i was asleep."

momo hums, taking the food out of the microwave, "i didn't mind. here." she sets a bowl of sundubu jjigae in front of you and then goes to scoop out a bowl of rice from the rice cooker as well. you spent a lot of the last 24 hours crying but you can't help the tears that well up in you again at the smell. this was one of the first dishes momo made for the four of you when you moved in together.

"do you want me to feed you?" momo's joking as she slides the bowl of rice over, but when you look up at her and she realises you're crying she quickly panics, "i mean i can! if you want!" she's frantically rummaging for a spoon and scooping out some rice and stew and holding it out to you.

you laugh, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve, adoring the way she tilts her head like a confused puppy in bewilderment, a small pout appearing on her lips.

you lean up and take the spoonful into your mouth, chewing and swallowing before leaning across to peck her on the lips. "i just love you is all you idiot."

momo blushes and you take the chance to grab the spoon from her and start eating the meal yourself.

she pouts and is about to whine when you both hear the door open, the telltale sign of keys jangling and the happy chattering of your other two favourite people in the world.

"momo! we got that ice cream y/n likes but i still don't think it's a good idea for her to eat it if she's sick!" nayeon's yelling from the door, probably taking off her shoes and you can hear a short squeal and something crash followed by laughter and you know sana has probably knocked something down or fallen over.

you raise your eyebrows at momo who shrugs and grins sheepishly, grabbing nayeon and sana's mugs and filling them with water.

when they come into the kitchen all loud and giggles its a sight for sore eyes. nayeon's kissing momo hello and setting the bags of shopping they have down. sana rounds the corner with more bags and that infectious smile. you loved all of them so much.

nayeon spots you first, frowning and walking over to you immediately, placing the back of her hand on your forehead. "hey baby, sorry to hear you weren't feeling well last night. are you feeling better now?"

you blush, nodding your head, your mouth still full of food.

sana's next to bound over to you once she's kissed momo in greeting as well, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head, "we missed you today. i got you this top i think would be really cute on you though! and momoring we also got you one of those draw-on shirts but we thought we could turn it into a date or something so we have four!" she's rummaging through her bags, producing items of clothing and talking about each one with her endless energy.

you swallow your food and look up at nayeon who has a fond smile on her face while watching sana, when she notices you looking at her she smiles and leans down to brush her lips against yours.

"wait... you're not sick with anything contagious are you...?"

"what if i was?"

she's squealing, running behind the counter before momo laughs and hands her the mug of water she filled and urging her to drink it. she also passes sana her mug who kisses her again in thanks.

you hum in content, happy to be around the people you loved most. its almost as if... they'll leave you. you don't deserve them. this is all temporary. don't get comfortable. you clench your spoon a little tighter, trying to will away the thoughts as you shove another spoonful into your mouth, focusing on the taste and the love behind the person who made it for you.

"-and i almost fell into the fountain and she just stood there and laughed at me!"

look at them enjoying themselves. you’re the odd one out. the one who’s about to break everyone’s happy mood.

you can make out nayeon's cackle, "in my defense! it was pretty funny! you had all your bags and everything and you threw your phone at that little boy!"

"wait sana you did what?"

you should just leave. leave them. look how happy they are without you. all you bring is sadness and anger. you can’t give them anything they’d want. what could you offer them?

"momoringg!! don't join her in this! he pushed me!"

"yeah because you were trying to steal his girlfriend!"

useless. hopeless. there’s nothing you can do. you can’t get anything right. not your job, not your friends, they’ll realise soon enough you know? that they’re better than you. that they’re too good for you. then it’ll be them leaving you. do it first before they realise that and break your heart.

"i was not!"

"that definitely sounds like you actually."

"y/n! you're on my side right?"

you look up in a daze, confused at what the context of the conversation was. "sorry?"

momo's frowning, trying to meet your eyes but you avoid her, looking at sana who's pouting, "were you listening? are you okay y/n?"

"y-yeah sorry i was just- just thinking about something. can you tell me the story again?"

suddenly sana's all in your space, basically climbing into your lap and cupping your cheeks with her hands, squinting at you. "what were you thinking about?"

you blush immediately, "oh y-y'know, just work."

"work's more important than me?"

"no sana i didn't mean it like that i'm sorry. of course work isn’t more important than you. can you tell me the story again? i'll listen this time i promise."

sana hums, nudging her nose against yours gently, "i'll tell you if you tell me the truth."

"what truth?" you feign indifference.

you can tell nayeon is looking at momo, asking for an explanation with her eyes but momo shrugs, turning away and going towards the sink to do the dishes.

"we've been together for 7 months y/n. and i've known you for much longer than that. i can tell when you're lying honey."

you gulp, clutching the spoon tighter with your hands when you feel someone else, nayeon, unwrap your fingers gently and take the spoon away, interlocking your fingers with hers instead.

you stand up quickly, unable to be interrogated at such close distance anymore. sana looks a little hurt when you do, pouting but letting you go. you look at nayeon who's eyeing you with a concerned curiosity. momo still has her back to all of you with the tap on but you can tell her shoulders are tense.

you rub the back of your neck in nervousness, avoiding all of their gazes. "u-um... i actually kinda... have something i needed to talk to you all about..."

you can feel the anxiety ramping up, the adrenaline and urge to run away pumping through you, your palms beginning to sweat.

momo saves you when she turns off the tap and wipes her hands clean, "let's all go to the living room and have some ice cream and we can talk about it yeah?"

you smile at her gratefully and she returns it, grabbing the ice cream nayeon and sana just brought back and a few spoons and bowls.

nayeon and sana exchange looks of confusion but help momo bring the utensils over and eventually you're all sitting on your couch in the living room with the television on for some background noise so it wasn't too awkward.

you fiddle with your hands, not looking at any of them while the random sitcom you have plays in the background. momo notices and grabs a hand, intertwining your fingers and squeezing gently, reassuring you that she was there.

you take a breath, clearing your throat and looking up at nayeon and sana.

"so i- um- i don't really know how to say this-"

"it's okay baby take your time. it's just us right?"

"yeah we're not going to judge you honey. we're here for you whatever this is okay?"

you take a shaky breath in, mumbling incoherently to yourself before deciding, "u-um it's probably a bit easier to s-show you." you let go of momo's hand and start to undo the tie at your pants.

"um... y/n if all you wanted was sex i think there were other ways to-" momo slaps nayeon who yelps, rubbing her arm where she was hit mumbling a "what?" but momo shushes her and gestures back to you.

you stand up and drop your pants, immediately feeling the cool breeze against your naked legs, shivering a little and fighting the urge to cover yourself. you stare down at your feet when you hear the little gasps. you decide to start talking, refusing to look up, "i'm sorry i made momo lie to you. i wasn't sick last night. i woke up and started thinking some… not so great things and i needed it to stop so i- um- i went to the bathroom where i hid some of my old stuff and i um- well-“ you awkwardly gesture at your thighs before continuing, “momo woke up and found me after the first cut. i would’ve kept going if she didn’t find me. she helped me clean up and bandage it and then i asked to sleep in the guest room because i didn’t want to um- i wasn’t ready to uh- to tell you guys yet- i’m sorry for keeping this from all of you for so long.“

when you’re done, you risk a glance up, and find the three loves of your life, tears running down their faces.

sana’s the first to move, she gets up and practically jumps over to you, but she stops short right before you touch, “c-can i- c-can i hug you?”

you smile at her, feeling your own tears well up at the sight of your three girlfriends crying. “of course darling. i’m still the same. i still love cuddling with you.”

she doesn’t give you a second thought and buries her head into your neck, wrapping her arms around your waist. you realise you’re still standing in the middle of the living room with your pants down which is a little absurd but you wrap your arms around her, sagging into her a little when she squeezes. you can feel her soft crying and the tears wet your neck.

nayeon stands and comes around as well, a little hesitant but you look at her and offer a wet smile and she breaks, enveloping the both of you in her arms as well with a muted sob. momo joins in as well because of course she does, you look at her gratefully as she sniffles, fiddling a little with her fingers before coming around behind you and moulding herself to your back, hands coming around your waist and holding onto sana’s hands, giving them a squeeze for reassurance as well.

you're surrounded with all the love you wanted. so why do you still want to die? you don't listen to that voice, pushing it down and trying to stay in the moment. eventually, someone breaks away, and you awkwardly shuffle your pants back on, glad to be able to cover up your scars.

nayeon speaks up first, a hand still holding yours, squeezing gently, "how long have you been... y'know-"

"since before i met you. the thoughts started getting really bad when i was still in high school. and all the pressure with doing well and all the extra curriculars i was picking up, it just got too much. the only thing that worked was the pain. it got me through high school, and i started to rely on it. but then... the first time i slept with someone... she was appalled. i had almost forgotten the scars were there until my pants were off. she got scared off and i told myself i wouldn't let anyone else see this side of me."

"baby..."

"it's okay. it got better after i met you guys. and when we all started dating i stopped. i felt happy." you smile up at your girlfriends, tears still streaming down your face, "being with all of you made me forget those things. but they came back. and worse this time because- because i have so much more to lose now. i can't- i can't lose you-" you can't control the sobs when you break down again. pathetic.

the girls are surrounding you instantly, whispering reassurances, brushing through your hair, tracing shapes into your skin, you try and focus on your bodily sensations rather than your internalisations, try and focus on them.

"we'd never leave you honey... we're not complete without you, you believe me right?" sana's tilting your face up to meet hers, her eyes are watery, nose red.

"i'm trying to believe you."

she places her forehead against yours and closes her eyes, sighing slightly, "i'm going to tell you that everyday from now. that i love you and that i'm not going anywhere. until you believe me." she smiles and tries for a joke, "you're going to have to deal with clingy me for the rest of your life."

you let out a broken laugh, kissing her sweetly. "i love when you're clingy anyway."

she laughs as well, wiping at her nose.

you peek at nayeon. you know she has more questions, the frown on her face and the little pout she has breaks your heart. you reach a hand out to her, she takes it after some consideration, and you pull her into your lap.

"you can ask anything. there's nothing off limits. i'll try answer everything i can and i promise i'll be honest with everything. that goes for the both of you as well." you look over at sana who's moved to your side to allow for nayeon to sit on your lap, she's got a hand on the eldest's waist, playing with her shirt, her other hand on your shoulder.

momo moves to your other side, lifting nayeon's legs and placing them on her own, tracing her calves and brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

nayeon's biting her lip, you focus on the small mole under her left eyebrow.

"w-why didn't you tell us?"

you sigh, "i didn't really think i needed to at first. because i hadn't done it in so long. i thought i was better."

"is it because you thought you couldn't trust us?"

"no baby that's not it."

"why did you keep your old stuff hidden then? when we moved in together? a part of you must have thought you weren't entirely better."

you bring a hand up to caress her cheek, she leans into the touch. "you're right. i'm sorry."

"is it still here?"

you look towards momo for an answer and she nods, "i didn't want to throw everything away. i wanted you to make that decision on your own. i thought that if we forcefully got rid of your things you might just try and hide it from us the next time the feelings come up. it's there but i... i don't really like the idea of leaving you alone y/n..."

nayeon's squeezing one of momo's hands, "pretty baby's so smart. i'm thankful you found her momo."

you nod in agreement, "is that why you kept following me around?"

momo nods shyly, her eyes still wet.

"i'm okay with that. i don't- i don't really trust myself right now either. i think it'd be good if someone was with me. if that wasn't... a burden or anything of course..."

sana jumps in, "honey no. you're not a burden. i hope you don't think that about yourself. i love taking care of you. i'd love being able to be there for you while you get better."

you smile at her gratefully.

"what are some of the bad thoughts you have baby?" nayeon's bringing your attention back to her, you can tell she's struggling to formulate these questions. but you're glad that she's asking them.

"a lot of it is about you guys. because you're all the reason i'm still here today."

"what about us? what can we do sweetie?"

you shake your head, looking down at your hands which are quickly taken ahold of by momo and sana. "i guess it comes down to... wondering if you can still love me while i hate myself." your grip tightens around their hands.

"you hate yourself?" nayeon's voice is shaky now, she's trying her best to hold back her emotions, wanting to find out everything she can do for you.

you nod, tears dropping onto her pants.

"there's this song. i think- i think it might be easier to play that for you guys if that's okay? i'm not really- i don't really know how to talk about this..."

they nod and quickly try and find your phone. momo finds it and hands it over to you. you quickly unlock it and search for the song you're looking for. could you love me while i hate myself - zeph.

you press play, clicking into the lyrics and staring at them to avoid looking at your girlfriend's reactions. it's a short song.

could you love me while i hate myself?

could you love me though i don't deserve it?

could you love me like there's no one else

even though you know i can't return it?

could you love me when the water's rough?

or when i leave you in a desert?

could you love me, though i speak with knives?

knowing all to well that you'll get hurt

if you can't answer 'yes' just go

i'm more trouble than i'm worth

could you love me while i hate myself?

because i don't know how this works

i never learned how this works

when it ends, you awkwardly tap out of your app, putting your phone down.

"thank you for sharing that baby."

you hum.

nayeon takes a shaky breath in, then quietly asks, "is it okay if i sing for you?"

you're surprised, looking up at her, her eyes are red. you nod.

she closes her eyes, humming a note to start, taking a breath in again and steadying her voice.

i'll love you while you hate yourself

i'll love you because you deserve it

i'll love you like i love us together

until you're ready to return it

i'll love you when things get rough

no matter where you leave us

i'll love you even when you're

working out all your thoughts

i'll get hurt if it means

some of your pain comes onto me

i'll love you while you hate yourself

and we'll figure out how it works

together we'll learn to get better

when she finishes and opens her eyes, you're sniffling again, tears streaming out of your eyes.

sana's the first to speak up, bringing her hands up to wipe at the tears on nayeon's cheeks, "our little musical genius. of course you came up with a response exactly on pitch after listening to a song once."

nayeon lets out a broken laugh, leaning into sana's touch.

you meet her eyes, a bright smile gracing your face, and you probably look a little silly, wet cheeks and red nosed with tears still dripping out of you, but nayeon laughs again in relief, coming in and kissing you.

you kiss her back gratefully, trying to convey how much you loved her in your action. you can feel sana's hand on your arm and momo's fingers in your hair. you loved them.

the thoughts are still there. you think they’ll always be there. but you don’t have to take them on on your own anymore. it would take time, but the people you loved were going to help you through it. you needed to put some trust in them as well, trust that they wouldn't leave, trust that they loved you just as you loved them, you wanted to get better, for them and for yourself, you believed you could get better with their help, for now, that was enough.

⸸

an extra a/n bcs its important: hi! i recognise that all experiences are unique so i just wanted to say the descriptions here aren’t meant to be generalised and i didn’t intend to write any stereotypes or misconceptions and i apologise if i have - i try to draw upon my own experiences to be able to write - in saying that i hope that anyone who feels they relate to similar themes etc seeks the help they need from professional sources - my dms are open ofc but i am not a professional and it is best to speak to someone who can help you in real time and in physicality. stay safe love y’all practice some self care today if u get the chance! <3

[shinystealingbirb]

This is a bit of a rant, but I wonder what Ratio's opinion on people who are in majors they don't want to be is.

Like, the people who clearly want to be studying one thing, but through one reason or another, are in a different major/professor.

From a teacher standpoint, I imagine it sucks to watch the life leave a kid's eyes every time they look at their worksheet, and it must be annoying if they turn their stuff in late because they were working on something else or just not paying attention.

I know that ratio puts an emphasis on not only wanting to be in that specific class, but actively participating and listening. Failure to do either of these gets you kicked out. i wonder if he would toss people from his class without a second look, or if he would take the time to consider why someone who fought to be in his class so clearly doesn't want to be there? if they're still taking notes, still somehow scoring decently, but its so obviously half-hearted, like they've resigned themselves to this, would he transfer them? Let them stay? kick them out entirely?

im certain he'd just toss them out, but they'd be better in the long run, and anotehr slot would open in the class for someone who wanted to be there. but i wonder what he himself thinks about those types of people. if he pities them for not being able to follow their own ppath, or finds himself disgusted that they turn away knowledge in favor of some other course. or if he considers this class itself, for these people, to be a roadblock in their own pursuit of knowledge. Does he consider what they want, if they're still in college, still trying to study, but forced to be in that major, to still be a pursuit of knowledge? i wonder how far his idea of "knowledge" spreads, if its purely math and phyiscs and medical and philosophy, or it if extends to art and writing and drama. if people want to learn to create expression, is that still knowledge to him? or is it the act of learning he finds so important, that as long as they are not closing their minds off and accepting what they know as fact so solid that nothing else can pass through it, then they are learning and willing to understand?

(honestly, i like the last one. it would explain why Ratio likes Stelle so much. She's got no education, but she's willing to question most things and think critically instead of accepting things as solid fact, and I think he appreciates that.)

i wonder all of this because college has been rough for me so far, and sometimes considering it from a more intelligent and higher perspective than my own helps me see a bigger picture, if there is one. If i am still learning, even if i am struggling, even if its not where i want to be, is it pitiful or embarassing? and could it still be cosnidered a worthwhile pursuit?

[ghoulie-67-baby]

No choice - Luke Alvez.

Summary: A deadly mistake by the local police department forces a haunting choice.

Warnings: General criminal minds issues, weapons, blood, death, disassociation, angst, fluff, crying, language, pet name.

Pairing: Luke Alvez x fem!reader (platonic/ otherwise).

Notes: Cariño = Sweetheart/Darling (Cambridge dictionary has a few different meanings).

Word count: 1,901.

The profile was racing through my head as the SUV sped down the highway. Our unsub had been through so much pain in her life. I didn't condone what she had done for a second, her victims may have been disgusting people but no one deserved death, especially not under the torturous circumstances she had carried it out. But there was a part of me that couldn’t help feeling pity for her, sad for the life she had been dealt and empathy for the horrific life she had been thrown into. It still didn't make murder acceptable.

The vehicle skidded to a stop, all of us filing out fully geared up and waited as Prentiss gave us all fair warning.

"She won't hesitate to attack if she's cornered, everyone needs to be on high alert and nobody goes anywhere without backup. Understood?" The team let out various mutters of agreement, upholstering our weapons before splitting up to find her. Alvez and I nodded to each other as we took the path towards the barn. I muttered for him to hang back just outside the door so I could shout for him if I needed help. She didn’t like men, hated male cops and Alvez being in there with us would mean she wouldn’t back down.

The door groaned in protest as I nudged it open, instantly focusing my weapon on the woman in the centre of the space. Wild eyes met my own as she spun in my direction, blade in hand as she froze.

"Carly, I'm Y/N with the FBI, I'm going to need you to put down the weapon." I kept my voice steady and gentle as she weighed up the situation, but didn't lower the weapon. I couldn't help but be glad Alvez had waitied outside knowing he was there if I needed the backup.

"I'm not going to jail." Her voice was hoarse and unsteady, making me twitch at all the different ways the scenario could end. "Do you know what they did to me?"

"I just want to talk Carly, put down the knife." I nodded towards the outstretched blade, trying my best to keep the situation calm. "I know they hurt you, I know they put you through so much when you were too young to understand and I know it left you feeling damaged and scared but I'm here to help you."

"You know," The blade lowered slightly and I held back a small smile of victory. "They would use me. They would make me watch and join in and I was just a kid. They'd make little games out of it, see how far I could run before they caught me and did what they wanted." I suppressed a shiver as her eyes filled with tears, recalling the sudden onslaught of unwelcome memories.

"I know and I'm so sorry but they're all gone now Carly, remember, you put an end to them. You stopped them from hurting anyone else and you saved so many other little girls." I explained, hoping the admission would put her more at ease. "You just need to come with me so we can get you some help, you can finally tell your story." Her limp, dirty hair bounced as she nodded furiously, she needed people to know what those bastards were really like, why she had to put an end to them and a dark part of me couldn't help but understand.

"I'll come with you but I don't want to be left alone with any guy cops okay? You have to stay with me." I bit the inside of my cheek. I couldn't exactly stay by her side forever but I could at least do this for her arrest.

"I can do that but we all need to be safe okay?" I nodded, looking pointedly at the blade once more. She began to lean down to place it by her feet when the front entrance swung open behind me, flashlights and the local police barging in.

"You liar!" Her voice was shrill, eyes full of fear and fire as noise erupted into the barn. Her grip tightened on the blade and with a screech of anger she ran at me with it raised. I tried to shout back, to tell her to stay calm and it was a mistake but she wouldn’t listen.

My shots rang out through the barn as she charged towards me and I froze as she crumpled before me like a puppet without its puppeteer. The noise around me filtered into the background as I froze, eyes impossibly wide and hands shaking making my gun rattle in my hand.

Tears filled my eyes as the hum of voices got louder, almost deafening. I could just make out a group arguing against another group and Luke’s shouting came into focus amongst the crowd. He was yelling at the local PD for rushing in, creating unnecessary danger, and telling them I had it handled but they didn’t want to hear their mistake.

“I was outside for a reason. You didn’t need to shoulder barge past! You should have just listened! We had here where we needed her and you trashed it.” His anger and frustration put me more on edge, and my knees began to tremble. "She could've killed our agent!"

My eyes were on fire but I couldn’t blink, like I had no control of my bodily functions. My chest rattled in tandem with my gun and all I could smell was nitroglycerin and the dampness of the barn being infested with the metallic blood. The pool of blood was growing under her body, hay floating in the crimson as it spread towards my feet.

“Hey, Y/N,” The voice was gentle and a hand cupped my elbow gently but I couldn’t move to look. “You okay? Are you hurt?” Luke’s face came into my peripheral and I begged my body to move my eyes to him but to no avail. He must have realised my eyes were fixed on Carly and stepped in front of me tentatively, movements slow and smooth as if trying not to startle a scared animal.

“Y/N, can you look at me?” my eyes seemed to just look through his chest as he placed his hands on my gun and slipped it carefully from my white-knuckled grip, handing it off to someone on the side. “Y/N, look at me.” His voice was a little firmer this time and it took every ounce of my strength to flick my eyes up to his, vision blurred by the obscuring tears.

My hands were clasped in his, pressed against his chest from where they’d stayed frozen after removing my weapon and I flexed them slightly, taking a grip on his t-shirt, his vest having been discarded already.

“Hey,” he whispered, a gentle smile on his face. “There you are. Can you hear me, Cariño?” I nodded jerkily, scalding tears finally falling down my cheeks as I gasped in a breath, the world finally coming back into an overwhelming focus. “You’re okay, you doing great. Are you hurt?” This time I shook my head, taking an unsure step closer to my teammate despite my shaking knees.

“Okay, we need to get you out.” My eyes finally blinked, tracing over the barn, noting the concern of the rest of my team and the questioning looks of the PD. “Can you walk with me?” His hands ran down my arms to hold my elbows as I nodded. My steps were unstable and numb as we stepped back out into the sunlight, the light making me wince but I focused on the earth crunching under my feet, the smell of fresh air and the warmth beside me.

The SUV came into focus as we passed the cruisers, making our way behind our big vehicle and away from prying eyes.

“Sit down Cariño,” The door opened and Luke lifted me by the waist so I sat with my legs handing out the door, eyes level with him. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah.” The word held such a blatant lie and tasted sour on my tongue. In my head I was screaming, clawing at my own mind in anger, shock, and regret but I didn’t have the energy. I wanted to scream at the officers for barging in, wanted to claw at them for ruining it, for making her look at me with such fear but my body didn’t react.

“Y/N, you’re lying to me.” The accusation was gentle, his voice soft as his brows furrowed in sadness. “It’s okay that you’re not but you can’t bottle it.” More tears fell at his words and I clasped onto his hand, needing some form of comforting contact.

“I shot Carly.” My voice sounded dead, monotone. “I shot her because she ran at me with the knife.” Dark brown eyes bore into mine as I confessed. “I shot her because they didn’t listen to you. She was scared and angry. She wanted it to end. She was ready to come with me, she was putting the blade down and they fucked it up.” The dam finally burst as all my words flooded out like the tears that tracked down my face. “They fucked up and I had to kill her because she would’ve killed me.” I gasped out, my heart hammering in my chest and my throat tightening.

“I know, it wasn’t your fault.” He assured me but his words felt wrong. I shot her, pulled the trigger and watched her fall. That was me. That made it my fault. “It's not your fault Y/N, you know that right?” I froze at his question, not knowing how to answer it. Yeah, I shot her but if they hadn’t run in then it wouldn’t have happened.

“I shot her Luke,” my voice broke, trailing off on his name. “She was 19, she was so young and I just shot her.” My stomach curdled at the thought.

“You had no other choice Y/N, she would’ve killed you.” I nodded at his words knowing deep down that it was true. “You did your job, you followed protocol and you’re alive because of it.”

“She had her life ahead of her.” Yes, it would most likely be in prison or a mental health facility but she deserved to live, she’d already been through enough. “She was still a baby.” My voice cut out into a wail as my chest seized in pain, my face scrunching in agony as it hit me like a truck.

“She was practically a child.” I slumped forward, caught by Luke’s body as I fell into his shoulder, face buried in the crook of his neck as I cried. Strong arms wrapped around me as I shook us with my cries, the force of it making my chest heave. He sat silently, patiently waiting as I let out my grief into his shoulder, fingers clenched in his shirt.

“You’re okay Cariño, you’ve got this,” His words were so gentle, so soft as my cries settled back down. “I’ve got you.” My heart melted, feeling safe with him as he walked me through the onslaught of emotions. I knew he had my team's backs, knew he had my back, he would always be by my side and although it didn’t solve this issue, it sure as hell made me feel a degree better.

[doberbutts]

Who would you say is your favorite unpopular LOTR character? Personally, mine is Beorn! I would also like to be able to change into a bear and live alone in the woods with a bunch of animals.

My favorite lotr character, period, is Smeagol. My whole deal is angsty bad boys with tragic backstories and yes Smeagol is very silly and very fucked up but at the end of the day, does that not describe him to his very being? Less "I could fix him" more "you poor thing". It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand etc etc and with him being a constant reminder to Frodo and Sam that they are looking directly at their fate because it's not a matter of if the Ring will turn them into him, but when. They've already seen it in each other, and in Bilbo. Sam reacts with anger and scorn. Frodo reacts with pity and compassion. Neither are wholly right nor wrong- Smeagol mutters to himself constantly about killing them in their sleep and has attempted to kill them more than once, but he's also their only ticket into Mordor and in the end his presence at Mount Doom technically helped get the job done when Frodo failed at the last second.

Smeagol was just like them. And then he came into contact with something completely and totally evil, through no fault of his own, and it ripped him apart from the inside. There's very little of the man (hobbit) he used to be left within him centuries later. And it wasn't his fault. He wasn't looking for the Ring. He and his cousin just found it by accident. A seemingly harmless plain golden band. They'd probably found hundreds of similar trinkets playing in the river as kids. Why should this one be any different?

Except it was. And it had no mercy for him. And it twisted him into something almost completely unrecognizable. And when he is recognized, by people who are not very different to what he used to be, they immediately react with disgust and rejection and fear, because holy hell, you mean this thing can turn us into that???

[maple-the-awesome]

Friend or Foe || Part 1/3

Part 2 || Part 3

Pairings: Four, Hyrule, Legend x GN Reader

Overview: Link visits an alternate world without its hero and, more importantly, a version of you without your Link. Unfortunately, it seems even the smallest of details can lead to disastrous results. In spirt of October and Halloween, I've decided to do a little evil prompt because none of the Links have enough emotional damage yet😈

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

Four has known you since childhood, both of your families having been good friends for generations. You've always been peas in a pot together with a level of closeness that results in a lot of ‘old married couple’ jokes. You're usually the first person Four returns to after his adventures, never sparing a single detail as he knows he can trust you with his life if it were to come down to it which makes this situation so perplexing...

This you is nothing like his dear friend back home. You don't have that same sweet smile that makes his heart do loops of delight, rather a wicked grin that makes his stomach turn in disgust. When he heard murmurs about an evil magic-wielder terrorizing this world, it would've been his last guess that such a person could look exactly like you - same face, same name, same everything!

"What an interesting assortment of weapons, especially this one!" Four bites back a snarl when this cursed version of you holds the Four Sword high into the sky with a teasing smirk, "It's practically dripping with magic. Where did you get it? ...Still not going to answer me? Oh, but you were so talkative earlier - what, with all your meaningless questions and desperate begging.”

Trapped behind cold iron bars, all Four can do is watch helplessly as you search through the rest of the items you’ve stolen from him, making little comments here and there which he refuses to acknowledge (he’s learned from Vaati that responses are only encouragement). The others should be here to rescue him soon anyway. In the meantime, he’s trying to make sense of this whole situation as he has been since you first caught him.

'This just can't be our flower. I refuse to believe it. They'd never be so cruel to us like this! They're our friend!' 

'Of course they aren’t, you idiot! There's no way they'd be evil at all! This scum is an imposter and the second we get out of this prison we'll teach them a lesson about why they shouldn’t dare tarnish an angel's name like -!'

'- Calm down. We're in a different version of Hyrule which means this is more than likely this kingdom’s version of -'

'- Hogwash! Don’t you dare finish that sentence! They'd never act like this even in a different world!'

'I don’t want to believe it either, however the fact of the matter is it isn’t impossible. Think about it. Everything about this world is similar to our own excluding our existence. There is no hero meaning we weren’t ever there to protect them. Did you think about that?'

'...No...'

'That's so sad!'

Four must agree with his arguing thoughts. Although this you isn't the one he has waiting for him back home, he can't help feeling some pity towards you, refusing to believe you could simply be born evil. Something led you down this path you currently trek, and maybe this world isn't necessarily within his range of responsibility, however he still feels a bit guilty for not being able to help any version of you, here or there.

Hyrule met you shortly after meeting Zelda which was natural considering you were the eldest child of the crown. He must admit he's unfortunately never gotten the chance to know you too well, seeing as you have so many responsibilities that keep you busy while he, himself, is often sidetracked venturing through a broken world, yet nevertheless, he does know you to be a kind and generous leader - someone he’s always admired very deeply which is why he’s having so much trouble accepting you could ever be like this…

This kingdom has a sort of sadness that flows throughout the dusty sky and crumbled grass. Legend mentioned something about visiting a kingdom like it before, although Hyrule wonders now if all aspects of the Vet's experiences would match. He would ask, however such a question wouldn't be appropriate at the moment given as both heroes have been brought to their knees, spears held close to their heads to keep them submissive (not that it gets rid of Legend's scowl).

When Hyrule first laid eyes on you while being forced him to take a knee in front of your throne, he had been relieved, so certain that you'd immediately wave off your hostile guards and take note of the obvious misunderstanding that has occurred, after all this traveler is a dear friend of yours who should be treated as such. Alas, Hyrule shivers instead, frozen under your cold gaze as you glare down upon Legend and him.

"These are the heroes you found? I thought they'd be taller - more a threat than little mice," You sigh boredly with your head rested against your hand, although you do take a second longer to admire Hyrule, smirking at the boy who unlike his feisty friend looks absolutely petrified to be in your presences. 

Pushing yourself off your throne, you approach the poor boy and kneel before him. Despite his attempt to flinch away, you still succeed in running your hand against his cheek, "...Oh, but you're a cutie, aren't you? A rare gem in a world so broken."

At least you're aware of the current status of this kingdom. Hyrule would like to think that with some bitterness in mind, however he actually manages to feel sympathetic while watching you wander back to your throne, not missing that frown upon your face. 

It’s then that he’s reminded of a story his friends and him were told upon arrival here - that this world’s hero had died tragically many years ago. There’s no evidence that this world’s current state is because of you which means you could’ve simply inherited a cursed throne and allowed your own heart to hardened under the depressing circumstances, a fate Hyrule fears might have easily occurred to his own version of you as well if not for the support you had received from your siblings and himself. If only you weren’t alone in this world. Maybe then you could have become a beloved queen here, too.

Legend denies that he ever knew you; it hurts too much to accept otherwise. For the short time that he had known you, you had been a light in his life, always so sweet and magical in a way that could lift even the darkest of thoughts. There's a side of him who wishes every night that he'll be blessed with a dream about you because much to his dismay, that's his only way of seeing you again. He'd give anything to meet you in person once more even if for just a second, but not like this...

He's trying hard to keep the scowl on his face - trying to act unintimated, trying to act annoyed - despite how much his heart is aching deep down. He can feel his eyes burning. He can taste iron as he bites down upon his lip, praying to Hylia he'll wake up any moment now.

Promptly after arriving in this Hyrule, the Chain had received several warnings from locals about a ‘demon’ which lurks in the night. They claim that the creature only ever appears in the shadows, preying upon weak minds and cursing them with cruel nightmares. 

Legend, of course, dismissed it all as a story meant to scare children, even going as far as to give Warrior a hard time for being jumpy while the group was setting up camp in a forest right outside of town. Unlike some of the others, Legend doesn’t care if the wind whispers or how certain trees around them look like faces, and he was actually sleeping quite well amongst it all until getting up to go to the bathroom. 

Walking back into camp, he had been alarmed to notice a cloaked figure hovering right above Wild, their hand outstretched towards his head as the Champion shifted and whimpered in his sleep. Everyone else appeared to already be in similar states of distress, even Time’s stone expression crinkled in pain.

"HEY! GET AWAY FROM THEM!" Legend was quick to shout, catching the monster's attention before drawing his sword which he had thankfully taken with him earlier. He planned on fighting off the beast then hopefully waking the others from their nightmares, yet instead he found himself trapped in one of his own when the cloaked figure removed their hood.

Now he can't move, frozen in terror as he tries desperately to shake the feeling...No...No, it can't be you. This is a trick - an illusion the monster has created to mess with him. You would never stain your beautiful face with such a wicked smile. You'd never hurt anything or anyone the way this thing already has!

Regardless of his doubt, Legend can only shake as you approach a lot faster than he can process, likely aided by your ability to effortlessly float his way. Whether due to a spell of yours or a result of his own weak will, he doesn't jerk away like he wants to when you run a hand over his cheek, cooing in a mocking way, "Aw, get a lot of nightmares, do you honey?"

"N-No. Not at all," He manages, at last finding the strength to swing your way which is an action helped by closing his eyes. If he can't see your face, he won't have to battle his concern over hurting you; he can better convince himself that you aren't truly here as you've never been.

"Liar," You easily dodge him, using merely two fingers to grab his sword midair. Keeping it in place, you lean forward, your breath making his legs wobble as the tears finally begin to prick in the corners of his eyes, "I can read your thoughts - see your fears…Oh, but this is far worse than any nightmare you've had, isn't it, my dear? Far worse than any I could bestow upon you with my magic. Poor thing. You miss them terribly, don't you? If that's the case, then you shouldn’t avoid me so. Soak it up. Remember what I look like. After all, it's the last chance you'll ever get to reach out and touch me."