#whatever im still here forever though

[phanyu]

does anyone ever get overrun by guilt that by witnessing the power and love of dan and phil youre ruining their chance to just have that for themselves in the most authentic way in private. and then youre like well wait theyre major attention whores they wanted/continue to want this so it's probably fine. and also theyre absolute masters at setting down the line between dan and phil and Dan and Phil TM. but then sometimes they say/do things that really make you feel the guilt again like it's just toooo close inside like hmmm maybe they will never know peace or what could have been because of me.... too bad im addicted to their yaoi

[deus-ex-mona]

real talk: lxl should continue to explore romance fantasy concepts in their songs. it’s clearly working for them~

[goldiipond]

canot stop looking at my icon he's sooo cute ithink this is one of my favorite official don arts. look at these fucking creatures

[nihiltism]

having a platonic cuddle buddy is so cool everybody should have a platonic cuddle buddy. having somebody to come over at a set later time in the day to lay on me for 2 hours and leave is so cool bc it also just. is a manual wind-down. whenever I try to get things done with my night after the buddy leaves I end up just passing out on my computer. manual wind down successful. the only tragedy is this is only one day a week

[prettieinpink]

 ♡ PRETTIER HIERARCHY ♡

HAPPY 1.2k+ TO PRETTIEINPINK! Thank you guys for the support, here’s a lil gift from me to you. 

If you don’t want to read all of this, I created a hierarchy of everything you need to do to glow up, right at the end!!! But I recommend reading everything first <3

I’ve been trying to ‘glow up’ like forever, but there was no actual content out there that helped me glow up. Most people sugarcoated, or their lifestyles of glowing up just weren't sustainable for me. So, I created this post for everyone planning to glow up or maximise their prettiness! 

DISCLAIMER – THIS POST IS NOT DETAILED. I wanted to do a simple outline to give you guys an idea of what to do to maximise your pretty. A little help to plan, especially as we enter 2024, but I’ll expand on these individual topics in the future. 

GRADE 1 – HEALTH

Being healthy can make you SO pretty. Being healthy is the foundation. There are other ways to be physically healthy, but after doing these 4 the rest usually fall in place.  Here are some simple ways to become healthier, and then eventually prettier!

HEALTHY EATING.

 I'm not going to go super deep into this, as no diet fits everyone + Please consult with your doctor before taking any extreme advice. Though, I'll tell you a bit of things that helped me !!

Stop drinking soda. Please, it's so unhealthy and it's full of so many sugars. Even the ones that are 0 cal, have weird chemicals that I don't trust. Many more alternatives taste just as good, like coconut water, herbal drinks, smoothies etc! Especially because nowadays most large calories and sugar intakes are from sugary drinks 

Stop restricting, moderate it. I am a big fan of dairy, yoghurt, milk, and cheese, I love it all. However I acknowledge that dairy isn’t the healthiest, so instead I always ensure I'm eating in moderation. E.g I put a tablespoon of shredded cheese in my omelettes instead of a handful. You will enjoy healthy eating so much, but only if you're not restricting. 

Have one serving of fruit, vegetables, or both with each meal. It provides so many good nutrients, makes you fuller and keeps you hydrated. Measure with your palm to ensure you’re eating enough. 

Know that just because one food has fewer calories than the other, does not mean it is the healthiest. I struggled so much with this, especially because many weight loss accounts will mention this, but it is so wrong. White bread has fewer calories than brown bread, but brown bread is higher in nutritional value. 

Plan snacks. Planning snacks for throughout the day, instead of spontaneously eating is so much better. I recommend this for anyone who gets hungry during the day but not enough for a meal (like me!)

Drink more water. Not 1L a day, because it is so much more ideal for you to have a glass of water with each meal + when you feel thirsty. 

Start educating yourself. This is as much as I can tell you, im not a nutritionist or a dietitian but if you plan to ensure that healthy eating becomes your lifestyle, educating yourself is essential!! 

EXERCISING.

Once again, I'm only going to go surface level with this because it is only based on my personal experience + Consult with your doctor before doing anything extreme. 

Start aiming for 5k+ steps. I see a lot of people advertise 10k+ steps as the standard, or what's active, but it's not sustainable If you're a busy person with a sedentary life or a beginner at exercise it is gonna be hard to sustain that. But walking is so good for you and simple too.

Join your local sports! Such a fun way to socialise while still exerting energy. 

If you can't do that for whatever reason, there are many ways to exercise at home. Research and pick a workout that you like and is sustainable. E.g. jump rope, pilates, home exercises, weightlifting, biking

Start standing more, it exerts energy. While very little, it still is very good. 

That's it, but remember to always start small with exercising, and RESEARCH!

BETTER SLEEP

To me, it doesn’t matter how much sleep a person is getting, but much more rather the quality of said sleep. So, here are some tricks and tips to get better at sleeping!!

Investing in a good quality pillow is so good for your sleep, the more comfortable you are, the better + it reduces the chances of poor posture or hump necks 

Research about different sleeping positions, as some positions at night promote back pain, difficulty breathing or poor posture. 

Start sleeping in complete darkness. Remove all sources of light or invest in good light-blocking curtains OR binders. Though, binders seem to be much more effective but are more pricey. If you cannot do either of that, buy a good sleeping mask. 

Sleep in the cold. Your body easily falls asleep if your environment is cold, and you’re less likely to wake up in the middle of the night. 

It is ideal for you to stop using devices an hour or two before bed, but if it is not sustainable for you, wear red blue-light-blocking glasses instead of clear ones. Red ones are more effective. 

Avoid large physical or mental tasks before bed, use that time to unwind and tell your body it's time to go to sleep. 

Avoid napping for longer than 30 minutes, or it can disrupt the sleep you have at night. 

Go to sleep at similar times every day. If you go to sleep earlier or later than this, you will ruin your sleep schedule and feel groggy. 

I expand more here. 

ORAL HEALTH

This is a step many people will neglect, but the most important in my opinion. Your teeth are the only body part that fails to regenerate after a certain age. Here's how I take care of mine!

Brush your teeth for longer. Brushing your teeth should not be a sped-up process, put actual thought into it. 

Start flossing. Floss removes plaque, and reduces the chances of your teeth yellowing! Do this ideally after each meal.

Brush your teeth before you eat. Brushing my teeth is the first thing I do when I wake up because brushing your teeth is supposed to protect your teeth from the food, not wash away your food. 

If you have the means, buy an electric toothbrush, as this gets in the little nooks and crannies that a regular one cannot. 

Use a tongue scraper or your toothbrush to get rid of any bacteria on your tongue. 

Use straws to drink coffee or any heavily coloured drinks. This avoids the premature yellowing of teeth. Make sure you put the straw on the side of your mouth to avoid your teeth. 

Use good mouthwash. A total game-changer, makes your breath fresher and your gums healthier. 

If need be, definitely use a purple teeth serum as a whitening treatment.

GRADE 2: STYLE 

I do not mean literal clothes and style, that's in grade 3. This is all about basic grooming and such. This is 2nd most important, especially if you're somebody who’s never been invested in beauty.

SKINCARE 

Get a basic skincare routine, cleanser and moisturiser.

If you have other skincare concerns e.g. dry skin, hyperpigmentation, acne, or blemishes, invest in a serum. 

Avoid touching your face frequently.

Wash makeup brushes & pillowcases often.

Dermaplaning to help skincare absorb better. 

Use sunscreen!

HAIRCARE

 Invest in a good shampoo and conditioner for your hair type.

Use a good hair oil, it doesn’t have to be for growth, but just for nourishing your scalp

Sleep with a good quality bonnet on.

Find which type of hairbrush works the best on you!

Use warm water to remove product build up and dirt, but use cool water to rinse.

Buy spray suncsreen to put on your scalp during hot weather.

Once again, research. Hair is just too much of a broad topic for me to thoroughly talk about.

EYEBROW & LASHES

Trim your eyebrows regularly to avoid too many stray hairs

Tint your eyebrows and lashes. If you already have dark eyelashes and brows, try a lighter look. I seem to prefer a dark brown look to a black 

Invest in a good lash & brow serum or use any oil

Don't use Vaseline on your eyelashes.

 Limit how much you wear mascara. 

I talk more about this here. 

BODY & HANDS 

Have a daily shower routine which consists of washing, exfoliating and moisturising your skin. 

Using scented products is such a game changer, smelling good is like being a magnet 

Doing manicures, my routine is a cuticle scrub, file, buff, polish, paint then cuticle oil. 

Shave on the areas you want to. Having smooth skin is nice, but to ensure your shave lasts longer, watch a video. 

I post about creating a good shower routine here. 

LIPS

Invest in a good, portable lip balm. I prefer the ones that burn your lips to give it a more fuller effect

Make your lip scrub. Sugar, honey and turmeric are my go-to. Helps remove dead skin.

If you have hyperpigmentation around the lips, use glycolic acid, only a little.

GRADE 3 – FASHION

My favourite grade, because it is so fun and focuses more on the aesthetic side of things. However, they're not essential, which makes it all the more fun!

CLOTHES 

 I have a post about wardrobe essentials here. 

Find out about what season colours you are. This helps with using colours in fashion to enhance. ( if you don't like your colours it is okay, it doesn’t change much if you do not wear them) 

Figuring out your undertone colours for jewellery. 

Figure out what works for your figure. Experiment with necklines, bottom length etc. 

Find out your general style too, what you feel confident in and more assured. 

MAKEUP

Research and only watch tutorials of women who look like you (trust me). 

Dear Peachie has a bunch of videos of how makeup works, for beginners to more advanced artists!

Then make your signature look for every using your knowledge. 

FRAGRANCE 

Invest in a good eau de parfum and eau de toilette. Cheap fragrances suck. 

Invest in a good-scented lotion. My favourite brand is Vaseline.

Using a good nice fabric softener for laundry makes you feel and smell fresh

Using an expensive scented body wash doesn’t matter, invest in a good body lotion. 

HAIR STYLING 

Hairstyles that enhance your face shape, not shield it. 

Having a simple signature look for everyday

Experimenting with your hair is ideal, but if you can't for whatever reason once again research.

GRADE 4 – PERSONALITY

The way you seem to others can make you so much prettier. Fake it till you make it as always~

POSTURE

Having good posture makes you stand out, makes you look prettier and is generally good for your health

Chin is parallel to the floor, shoulders are down and relaxed, rib cage is elevated, pelvis is tucked in, your knees straight and flexed, and the weight on your feet should be in the center.

You can stretch for good posture, there are many videos on this on YouTube.

Ensure your sleeping position is promoting good posture, not poor. 

Buy a back brace to reinforce good posture.

BODY LANGUAGE

Learn how to move your body during conversations to seem more self-respected and confident.

Train your facial expressions for different situations, but especially for taking photos.

There are tons of books and videos on this, won’t expand because this is all about how you want others to perceive you. 

ELOQUENCE

Improve the way you communicate with others. Be fluent and clear to understand 

Expand your vocabulary, know how to substitute words on the spot and make sentences. 

Knowing what to say in like any and every conversation makes people like you more, and the best way to be more eloquent is just practice. 

There are so many good books about this.. read.

GRADE 5 – MIND

Personally, having a good mindset does boost your self-perception of your prettiness + being happier in general makes you more inclined to take care of yourself = being more pretty!!!

MENTAL HEALTH

Start journaling as a way to organise your thoughts and to truly analyse your emotions. There are a lot of journaling prompts on Pinterest and such!

Meditation as a way to clear the mind when needed is so good. There are a bunch more meditations for other purposes though like body image, productivity, focus or just general relaxation.

Go to therapy, or just have at least one person you can talk to when life becomes tough.

Cut back on social media. There's misinformation, trolls and a lot of content that isn't nourishing your mind. 

Get some sun! Simple and doable, but has a huge effect on the body. It can improve the current mood. Wear sunscreen. 

Start learning how to process situations, instead of bypassing the emotions that come with them. 

Start surrounding yourself with like-minded people. Seriously, being around people who are just too different is draining. 

MINDSET

Embrace growth and reject all forms of comfort. Being uncomfortable with something is growth. 

Don’t do things because you ‘have’ to do this, do them because they benefit you and see it in that way. E.g ‘I’m going to clean my room because I deserve a clean place to rest and work’ instead of ‘I have to clean my room’

Become detached. Stop letting everything that happens in your life affect you, start observing instead of consuming. 

Self validates yourself. Tam Kaur did a wonderful video on this that I think everyone should watch.

Stop believing that everything and everyone is out to get you. Your subconscious mind believes this, do not feed it, starve it.

There's a lot to say about mindset, but I recommend watching some mindset YouTubers who explain everything in depth.

and now,,,, here's a ANOTHER gift from lanny because u read her post. And liked it. And reblogged it. And followed her.. pleaseee

[busycloudy]

The Love Potion

  • I've wanted to write this for FOREVER but I kept forgetting to💀 

•  ft: Dorm Leaders 

• Tw: Kissing(Not much tbh), and a love potion. 

• Very fluffy fanfic and crack

• The reader is MC and goes by they/them pronouns. The reader is already in a relationship with the dormleaders. 

• They may or may not be ooc 

• Hope ya enjoy!

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

 • To your horror Crewel assigned you, Ace, Deuce, and grim to make a love potion. Fun right? Wrong! 

• For whatever reason you had some hope that they wouldn't do anything wrong, so you casually put your drink somewhere near the cauldron, leaving to go get something. 

• Grim accidently knocked over the cauldron, spilling it EVERYWHERE, and what do you know, some got into your drink! 

• "Grim! Why'd you knock over the cauldron!" Ace argued. "It was on accident!" Grim frowned. They started arguing and Deuce was just watching, until you came back and picked up your drink to drink it. 

• "Wait, no, MC!" Deuce tried to stop you from drinking it, but it was to late. Ace and Grim finally stopped arguing and looked over to see a MC with hearts in their eyes. 

• The trio brought you over to Crewel and told him about what had happened. "Are you pups always so stupid?" Crewel frowned. "Professor can you please just tell us if this is going to be permanent?" Ace asked. "Luckily not, but it will last 24 hours" Crewel said. 

• The trio did not want to be stuck with a lovesick MC for 24 hours so they brought you to your lover.

Riddle Rosehearts

"What have you three done this ti- MC!" He rushed over to grab you from Ace and Deuce's arms. "Riddle, has anyone ever told you that you look adorable?" You said. "Cause you do..." You also said, then giving him a peck on the lips. "W-What Mc?" Riddle was beyond confused(and flustered) Sure you guys were in a relationship, but you never were this affectionate in public. "Yeah, um, they kinda drank a love potion..." Ace said. After he said that Deuce, Ace, and Grim ran for their dear lives. "You three get back here!" Riddle didn't chase them though, still holding you in his arms. "MC, why you still hang out with those three is something I'll never understand..." Riddle mumbled while taking you to his room. "Hm, I wonder if there's a cure..." Riddle said as he layed you down on his bed, then starting to walk away, but he felt a tug on his sleeve. "Hm? Yes MC?" He turned around to see you tugging on his sleeve. "C'mon Riddle, just stay with me for a bit" You said with a fake pout. "Oh dear, MC im not so s-" Riddle said. "Please..." You cut him off. "Fine, but only for a bit" He said with a soft smile, going in to the bed with you. You guys ended up cuddling for practically all day. "I might have to thank those three..." You heard him mumble.

Leona Kingscholar

Ruggie took you to the lions room after the trio gave you to him and said"Take them to Leona for us!" and ran off. "What a bunch of wimps..." Ruggie said. You two eventually made it to Leona's room to find him... Sleeping(How shocking😲😕) Ruggie just layed you down next to Leona and went his own ways. Leona turned over to see a heart eyed MC. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't delusional. He realized you had drunken a love potion and smirked. "Leona, has anyone told you how amazing you are?" You said. "Nope, just you herbivore" He smiled, wrapping his tail around your waist to bring you closer. As he brought you closer he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. "Well you really are" You said, truly lovesick. You just gave this man a full on ego boost and he is bragging about it, love potion or not. You two cuddled the rest of the day, but lets be honest he would cuddle you for a whole day even if you didn't drink a love potion.

Azul Ashengrotto

Let's be honest he probably has a cure, but is he gonna use it? No. He thought you were just absolutely adorable when Ace and Deuce brought you to him, why would he use a cure? He told Floyd and Jade the reason he didn't use the cure was because "They clearly are not in a state to sign a contract and make an agreement with me." We all know that was a lie and he would never make you sign a contract for things like a cure. "Azul why don't you come and cuddle me?" You asked when Azul was doing paperwork. His face turned slightly red. You walked up to behind him and put your arms over his shoulders putting your weight on him. "Please?" You said with a fake pout. He eventually gave in and cuddled you on the couch some. Floyd came across the room and took some pictures to tease Azul about it later on. Sadly Azul eventually had to continue his paperwork.

Kalim Al-Asim

If he had any party's that day, he canceled them all when the Adeuce duo brought you over and said you accidentally drank a love potion. "MC! I'm so happy to see you! They drank a love potion? I'll make sure to care for them!" He said. He is just the sweetest most innocent person ever. "Kalim, has anyone ever mentioned how adorable you are? Because you are so adorable!" You booped him on the nose. He hugged you, cuddled you, kissed you. He did literally anything that was affectionate in some way. You guys were mainly in his room being lovebirds (In the most innocent way possible you dirty minded person). Near the end of the day, you two cuddled in his room to pass time.

Why is this one so short😭

Vil Schoenheit

Vil was casually walking around Pomefiore when he felt a tap on his shoulder. "Uh, Vil, we need you to take care of MC..." Deuce awkwardly said. "What have you three potatoes done this time?" Vil crossed his arms. "They kinda...drank a love potion..." Deuce gave a awkward smile. Vil looked over to see you with hearts in your eyes and sighed. Deuce, Ace and Grim then left you with Vil. "Dear, why do you still hangout with those three..." He mumbled. "Vil has anyone told you you're gorgeous" You smiled. "Hm?" Vil might have been a bit taken aback by your sudden sentence. "You truly are the fairest in the land" You continued. "Thank you potato" Vil gave you a soft smile. The two of two walked to his room and hanged out most of the day. You may or may not have smothered him in kisses, which he then gave you a kiss on your cheek and forehead, leaving a lipstick stain. When you look in the mirror the next day you might see a lipstick stain on your neck.

Idia Shroud

Idia was playing video games as always until Ortho came in his room telling Idia you drank a love potion. Idia did not know what to do at that moment. Ortho put you on your boyfriend's bed and left. You kinda just sat there watching him play his video games and do what he normally does. Suddenly you had gotten up and draped your arms on his shoulders which might've startled him some. You put your head on his shoulder, and his hair turned pink. "Uh- Do you need anything MC?" He nervously asked. "Nothing, just wanted to cuddle you" You mumbled. When I tell you his face flushed, his face flushed. His hair could not have been more pink. He continued to do his things and you kinda just stood there behind him relaxing. After a while you had stopped and went to lay in his bed, and he soon joined you.

Malleus Draconia

The trio brought you over to Malleus and the sky may or may not have become a bit cloudy, but it cleared up right after because Malleus thought you were absolutely adorable in this state! "Malleus! MC drank a love potion!" Grim ran in the dorm, Ace and Deuce behind him, carrying you(So dramatic for what?) Malleus didn't expect you to be so affectionate. You sat near him on the couch, but then you layed down and put your head in his lap. "Malleus has anyone ever told you how amazing you are?" You smiled at him. He raised a questioning brow before you continued. "Because you truly are amazing darling" You continued. The sky was definitely a lot sunnier throughout the day to say the least. You guys cuddled near the end of the day, and really just most of the day (Sebek was not happy)

______________________________________________________________

I finally finished it! This took 10× longer than I thought it would! I don't really know how to write Kalim and Malleus so if their ooc, or any of the dorm leaders are ooc, sorry!

Hope ya enjoyed!

Edit: 940 likes!? Y'all are amazing! Just wanted to say tysm for supporting my writing and I'm currently working on pt 2! It might take some time as I struggle to write certain characters.

Part 2 here

Have a splendid day!

[squiddy-god]

thank u for the best neuvi fic ever 😭💕 if u ever have time would always appreciate more food, thank u for your service my most esteemed fellow neuvi enjoyer 💞🫡

(will probably still be screaming crying throwing up about this one in the mean time 😭)

Hehuewieewm kicking my feet reading that hehehehe im so glad that the neuvi fic didn't absolutely flop because it is really just written from a place of lust for this man because he is so fine, so here! Have some more neuvi 

♥︎Request open♥︎

Cw : fluff to smut, NSFW and SFW, soft neuvillette, gn reader, hints at fontaine’s quest, daycrafillia, more spit swapping (sue me) but not what you think, always implied chubby reader, brief mention of bottom/sub neuvi, oral (both reciving), 69, face sitting is a gender neutral sport, explicit aftercare (love it) 

Ok so as i stated this man's knowledge of relationships is, iffy at best

He knows about the basics, but the complexities of human relations escape him

That being said he's such a sweetheart, interaction may be something he struggles with but he is surprisingly emotionally aware and intune to what you are feeling

When he first finds himself falling for you, he almost doesn't notice, but once he does he is actually quite quick to come to the conclusion that he has developed a rather large “crush”on you

However it takes urging from others to make him do anything about it, he is content to be an observer 

At least before the fontaine quest, after witnessing furinas trial and experiencing the loss of focalors all over again he grown anxious, no longer content to simply forever be the impartial Iudex of fontaine 

He begins to court you slowly, as a gentleman would- and while its a bit old fashioned to call it courting rather than dating- its a sweet but delicate dance to neuvillette 

His draconic side plays a part here, instincts calling that he should gift you things, starting small with food and imported water

Then he begins to invite you to lunch or perhaps on his rare walks around fontiane

Gossip spreads fast and just about every citizen has not only heard about the Iudex’s fancy for you, but they are fawning over it 

After All the Iudex is incredibly popular with the people, and they are overjoyed to see him in such high spirits

The subtle smile that plays shyly against his lips as his pale violet eyes watch you with the tender affections of old lovers

It's really the small chivalric things that make it feel as though you have loved neuvillette for a hundred years, the way his slender gloved hands interlace with yours as he helps you down the stairs, the way he offers you his arm as you walk

To be loved is to be seen, and within the vast ocean of neuvillettes eyes you stand as a solitary bastion of his love. Your every toil no matter how meaningless is acknowledged as something with purpose, the way his eyes that are often hardened by long trials where they must scrutinies and analyze soften in a way that belongs to you alone

He cares for you greatly, to be loved by neuvillette is quiet, a peaceful love that feels timeless

to be loved is to be seen, to be cherished and wanted, to be loved by neuvliette is to know that even in the quiet sea of his love the tide will never wane, he will always see you, forever unbiased he sees you for who you are, and you know that you are see, that he will always cherish you, that you are wanted, that you are loved. 

He enjoys when you brush his hair, and he lets you put whatever style you desire 

Many may assume that he is a listener, afterall he appears very quiet and reserved, but much like another dragon he is a secret YAPPER 

Steeped in wisdom he loves listening to you talk, but there are several subjects he tends to ramble about, and his statements are quite wordy and verbose

Both before and during your relationship he is spotted at several fountains and popular wishing spots, tossing a coin of mora into the still water, silently participating in these little rituals just incase they aid him in winning your hand 

He often attends performances at the opera house, and he reserves a seat just for you next to his own usual seating, and while a private man, there is a small part of him that preens knowing that everyone sees how you are his, and he is yours

Smut time

Now i know i said most of my thoughts in the other one but come onnnnnnnn i still have more thoughts

I don't think i mentioned this but i think he definitely cries during sex, even a small amount of pleasure has this man's eyes watering

I think i did not focus enough on the gentle slow side of neuvillette, how he traces over your body and laveshes you with kisses, how he checks in, lower face dripping in fluids to ask if you'd like some water waiting for you to nod before he takes a swig of the cup he keeps next to the bed, crawling up to kiss you, the fluid benign pushed into your mouth mingling with your taste

Any access is licked away by Neuvillette before he returns to his favorite activity. 

Slow, letting himself relax and savor every touch, every sensation as if you where the finest sumarian water

In this more calm and relaxed state he whispers his thoughts, voice fleeting with the buzzing in your ears as grans out your praises

Your reassurance and comforting when he cries makes him a absolute puddle in yours arms, his head in your neck as he thrusts slowly into you, his moans reverberating on your skin until you feel the tell tale wetness of his tears, cupping his face to rest your foreheads against each other you reassure him, trying to comfort him

He's so conflicted, he loves your voice and sweet nothings but he wants to be honest and tell you that these are tears of pleasure. 

Ride this man he's mesmerized, pupils wide as saucers as he watches your face above him, feels your hands on his shoulders, your plush tummy squished in his hands 

Would low(read high) key be down for you to peg/top him, and hes a moaning mess when the tables are turned, voice wavering as he grips the sheets so hard he might just rip them

…dare I say 69? Yes the funny number, i feel like he would enjoy it immensely 

Face sitting regardless of your sex, he is trying to bleed you dry here 

He may not know that he's a total freak, but he does know that you are exhausted and spent by the end every time (he wouldn't have it any other way) so he takes great care in ensuring you are taken care of

Holds you close for a moment before sweeping you into his arms and drawing you a bath

Washes you clean of the fluids he much rather keep you covered in longer, and fetches you a regression glass of water- and whatever other drink you prefer

He even feeds you snacks as he slips into the bath and rubs your sore limbs, placing soft kisses to the crown of your head 

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve and Gareth as Cousins, no longer a warm-up and now called Lifelines, part three! I’ll throw it up on A03 when I finish the fourth part. 

Prior parts can be read here: Part One / Part Two 

First things first, the most amazing @ sereinpetrichor managed to track down the OG Twitter thread this runaway train is based off of! 

It was this thread by @gatorthots, the Tumblr version of which can be read, here.  All blame for this idea firmly rests on their brilliant, plot bunny inducing shoulders. 

The other, follow up thread I mentioned was this one by Silas, whose tumblr name I do not know. 

As always and forever, shout out to the most amazing @chalkysgarbagefire​ who helps me edit/plot/pats my head while I’m crying in their inbox bc the words aren’t wording right. 

Warnings: Steve and Robin are canon (S3) drugged. I took a slightly (kinda sorta) more realistic approach. Vomit mention, canon threat of violence/guns (the Russian guards) Mention of pantsing/past bullying, Steve and Robin’s drugged asses not understanding personal space, Dustin’s canon...Im gonna go with assholishness? but like, I think its more than he’s a young kid and doesn't quite have the emotional growth/awareness yet in this kind of insane situation to know how to react to the whole address/torture bit (really who does)/its a defense mechanism--and Gareth sort of has a panic attack. 

Whatever the hell they had been drugged with, Steve and Robin went from 'giggly happy fun time' to 'vomiting into toilet bowls while loudly wishing for death’ awfully fast. 

Gareth was not an expert on drugs. He knew Eddie wasn't either (the guy never dealt anything stronger than your average psychedelic--had some agreement with his Uncle about only selling "the 70s basics") and repeated looks towards him proved Eddie was still trying to figure out what Steve and Robin were on. 

Answers hadn't exactly been forthcoming--Eddie's gently made attempts at ferreting out information had only caused more confusion.

Like why the two of them were so freaked out about a gate, or what had made Robin gasp, and then laugh so hard she cried when Steve had made a particularly rough noise then muttered; "Even that sounds better than Tammy Thompson." 

Either way, Gareth was mostly trying to figure out what the hell they were going to do, because sobering up in a busy, public mall wasn't exactly the best idea. 

"I regret," Robin tried to say, in-between gagging. "I regret--hrk--" 

"Me too." Steve moaned, head resting against the stall wall. Gareth, still caught up in panic, had been permanently regulated to door guard while Eddie alternated between sweet talking, rubbing backs and offering quietly whispered advice. 

"Let's go back in time and ignore the whole silver cat thing." Robin continued, slumping back down onto the floor. 

"Wouldn't have mattered." Steve muttered. "Dustin would have figured it out without us. Kid’s too damn smart." 

"So?" Robin grumbled, quietly thanking Eddie as he once again brushed her hair out of her face. 

"So he would have gone down there anyway, which means I'd be down there anyway." Steve concluded. "We shouldn't have gotten you involved though." 

He shakily pushed himself up, staggering to his feet and looking like bambi on ice while doing it. 

Eddie quickly came round to offer his help, hands spread as Steve groaned out a curse and clutched his head.  

The older took a step forward right as Steve lurched back, unbalanced and shaky. 

 "Oh shit." He said, eyes wide as he crashed backwards into Eddie, the latter catching him with a grunt. 

Despite the entire situation, Gareth found himself stifling a laugh as Eddie wrapped his noodle arms around Steve's chest, trying to hold the other up without falling himself. 

"Come on big boy, why don't we just siiiit back down." Eddie said, slightly breathless as he helped guide Steve back to the floor. "There we go…"

They did so outside the bathroom stall, Eddie sinking into a kneel as Steve sort of flopped down on top of him. 

Blinked a few times, like the drop had rattled what little sense he’d managed to recover in the last few minutes. 

A pleased noise came out of his cousin's throat, and holy shit was Gareth going to have blackmail for life, because rather than vacate Eddie's lap, Steve just turned around in it. 

Reached up with one finger outstretched and proved himself to be very much still under the influence as he touched Eddie's nose.

"Boop!" He said, and then giggled as Eddie dropped onto his ass in surprise. 

Gareth watched Robin as she took the whole thing in, from Steve's snickers to Eddie's shocked expression, eyes growing wide in excitement. 

He failed entirely to cover his own amusement when Eddie abruptly found himself with two sailors invading his personal space, each taking turns to boop his nose. 

“Uh.” He managed to get out, blinking rapidly and at a loss for words. “Ah.” 

Steve caught the metalhead’s awkward, red-faced expression and proceeded to drop his head to Eddie's shoulder, muffling his laughter against the man's vest. 

The helpless look his best friend sent him was one Gareth would remember for a long time. 

“O-kay.” Eddie said, frazzled, as Steve recovered far too quickly, turning to rest his cheek against a slim shoulder as he walked two fingers up Eddie’s battle vest and towards his hair. Likewise, Robin had discovered Eddie’s wallet chain, and had begun fiddling with it. 

One finger curled around a strand of brown hair and Eddie jerked his head, removing the tempting piece away from Steve’s hands. 

“I know you’re used to getting whatever you want, your highness.” He said, his own hand smacking against his waist before Robin figured out the other end of his chain ended in a handcuff, “But you of all people should know the hair is off limits.” 

Completely undeterred, Steve just gave him a loose, easy grin. “It’s so pretty though.” He complained, fluttering his eyelashes in a blatant attempt to try and turn on the ol’ Harrington charm.  “You can touch mine if you want.” 

Yeah, Gareth’s blackmail was getting better by the second. 

He might even get a new piece for his drum kit out of it, if this kept up. 

Free weed too, considering Eddie’s blush was now fire-engine red. 

“Man,” Eddie said in a clear bid to deflect the entire situation (and Steve’s fingers) away from his hair, “the last time someone called me pretty was right before I got pantsed—-is Tommy H hiding in one of the stalls again?” 

Steve picked his head up, confusion crashing down his face. 

“Did he do that?” He asked. 

Then, with growing horror; “Do you think I’d do that?” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that your whole little court’s M.O.?” 

Steve sucked in a breath, looking downright hurt. "I wouldn’t do that." He insisted, eyes wheeling from Eddie to Gareth and back, as though hoping Gareth would back him up. 

“I’m not--I’m not friends with Tommy anymore.” Steve continued, voice growing smaller as he spoke. “I’m not friends with anybody anymore, except maybe Dustin.” 

It sounded so defeated; trodden on and subdued that Gareth stepped forward automatically, to do--something. 

Provide the fucking comfort his cousin was oft denied and hug the guy. 

As always, it turned out to be the wrong move. 

"Oh thank god." A kid said, seconds after bulldozing through the main door and nearly bowling Gareth over in the process. "I found them!" He shouted over his shoulder as swept into the room. 

“Speak of the devil.” Steve said flatly, and even drugged, he managed to pull himself back together from distressed to stoic in mere seconds. 

The curly-haired kid--Dustin apparently--stormed right up to the pile of humans splayed on the floor, hands on his hips. "What the hell. We told you two to stay put!" 

Steve rolled his eyes as Robin booed him. 

“Have you forgotten what’s happening? Or how we’re kinda in a Red Dawn situation?” Dustin continued, looking like he’d just escaped from a summer camp. 

The kid even had a walkie talkie clutched in one hand, of all things. 

“We know.” Steve and Robin deadpanned at once, before looking at each other; Steve pointing a finger towards Robin and Robin pointing one back. 

This caused the kids to trade their own long suffering, “can you believe this shit” faces. 

"We need to go, and the only way we’re gonna get out of here unnoticed is if we blend in with the crowd." Dustin said impatiently.  “Now come on Steve, get up already, you've had worse.”

"I really don't think I have." Steve muttered, but moved to push himself to his feet anyway. 

Eddie beat him to it, and he and Gareth both hovered nearby in case Steve was still unsteady. 

Thankfully, the kids' presence seemed to sober up Robin and Steve both. 

Not actually sober, that wasn't how drugs worked, but whatever was left of the fun was sucked right out of the bathroom, replaced by two teenagers who were sort of functional on whatever they'd been drugged with. 

Stress and adrenaline, Gareth knew, could overcome a lot of things. Including Russian "truth serum" apparently. 

“Yeah well you're lucky you got found by these guys and not anyone else. " Dustin continued pointedly, before turning his attention towards Gareth and Eddie both. "Thanks for watching our friends, but we've got them from here." 

Gareth made a sort of unhinged, disbelieving noise. 

 “No, no you do not.” He declared, anxiety clawing at his gut at the mere thought of abandoning Steve to two children. 

"I don't think you heard him." The girl stepped forward, braids swinging about her face as she lifted her chin and nailed him with a cold glare. 

 As if this entire situation couldn’t possibly get weirder, Gareth suddenly realized she had a helmet in her hands and knee pads on.

 "He said we got this. So scram." She flicked her fingers out in a dismissive sort of "shoo" gesture.

"And leave my drugged cousin with his new girlfriend behind!?" Gareth challenged right back, emotions far too raw and frayed to care he was snarling at a little girl. "I don’t think so!”

"Cousin!?" Dustin bit out, sounding almost betrayed for some reason, at the same time Robin who'd been climbing to her feet with Eddie’s help, shouted; "I am not his girlfriend!" 

Steve, clearly unwilling to entertain whatever fight was brewing, clapped his hands together. 

"Yes cousin, Dustin. It's a type of family member." Steve said, after they all flinched and looked to him. He at least looked steadier on his feet this time, though Gareth still lingered nearby in case he took a wrong step. 

"I know what a cousin is, Steve!" Dustin shot back. 

“Then why are you acting like a lunatic?” Steve complained, and Gareth got to watch in real time as Steve pulled on the persona he often wore in high school down around him. “You said it yourself, we don’t have a lot of time. Worse, I don't know if anyone saw Gareth and Munson here with us.” 

He jerked a thumb sideways in Eddie’s direction, not that anyone couldn’t figure out who “Munson” was. 

“They stay with us until we’re out of this mall.” Steve finished, before he started towards the door.

One step he was Gareth’s cousin, drugged and vulnerable because of it. 

The next he stood taller, talked smoother, took charge with an aurora that said he expected everyone to listen to him. 

It was fake as hell, but it worked. 

“I know you’ve got a plan Dustin, so spill it.” He commanded as he walked.  

��Dustin, despite all the squawking, did just that. 

xXx 

Of all the things Gareth had expected to see upon escorting their little ragtag crew out of the bathroom, groups of intimidating, mean looking assholes wasn’t on the list. 

He found himself repeatedly nudging Eddie in the ribs, unable to take his eyes off what was clearly a checkpoint as he staggered to a halt. 

It was one thing to be told people were after Steve and the “Scoop’s Troop” As Robin had jokingly named them. 

It was another entirely to see the security guard directly in front of him look over a woman’s ID before apologizing to her, a sleazy grin matching his oily pony-tail as he waved her on. 

They really were looking for someone. 

Not someone, Gareth realized in dawning horror.

Them. 

Robin apparently, came to the same conclusion seconds later, because she snatched Steve and Dustin’s arms both, hauling them backwards. 

“Argue about Dustin’s address later, we need to find a different way out.” She hissed quietly as she tried to slowly reversed direction, movements still a bit sloppy. 

She might have even gotten away with it, had Sleazy Pony-Tail not turned and made eye contact with Gareth right after she spoke. 

His eyes swept over him, then to the rest of the group, freezing like a cat that had spotted its prey.

“Abort, abort!” Dustin sputtered, wheeling about on his heel. 

Erica, whose name Gareth had learned when she kicked him in the shin after he asked why an actual infant was running around with Steve and Robin, pointed towards the escalators before she beelined over to it, ducking into the center and riding it down like a slide. 

Something Eddied was downright delighted to copy. 

Gareth might have enjoyed it himself, had he not been looking over his shoulder to see not one, not two, but four security guards giving chase--and gaining. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuckikity fuck.” He heard Robin chant as she shot past, Steve planting himself at the top as he made sure everyone got down to the next level before sliding down himself. 

"Do not let them leave!" One of the guards yelled to the others, accent clear as a bell. 

"Holy shit that guy's actually Russian." Gareth found himself saying as he skidded across the floor and bolted after the others, Steve hot on his heels. 

He had kinda expected the Russian thing to be some sort of drug influenced inside joke and not an actual, honest-to-God Soviet. 

Which led to the question of why the fuck adult men in security uniforms had drugged random teenage retail workers.

Food workers.

Whatever the fuck one called a two people who scooped ice-cream in sailor costumes. 

"There's another group up ahead!" Eddie yelped, swerving sideways and nearly taking Erica out while doing it. 

Noise erupted ahead of them in the form of foreign shouting and loud, harshly barked commands to “Freeze!”  

‘Oh hell no.’ Gareth thought wildly, as he caught the form of the giant fricken gun the guard closest to him held. 

“Split up!” Dustin howled, and before anyone could comment about how bad an idea that was, Gareth found himself being yanked sideways. 

Steve swore loudly behind him as Robin, who’d crashed backwards, pulled him in the opposite direction and in a second their group broke in two. Gareth, Eddie and Dustin going one way, Steve, Robin and Erica another. 

"This isn’t happening." Gareth muttered, words made in a sort of pleading denial as he and Eddie turned the corner and immediately vaulted over the counter of an Orange Julius. “I smoked or drank or did something and this is a hallucination that is not. Actually. Happening.” 

Dustin at least, was smart enough to dive around the counter instead of over it, sliding towards them on his knees. 

Eddie quickly yanked him down to the floor in-between himself and Gareth once he was close enough to grab, one hand going over the hat to shove the kids head down. 

Annoying or not, he was at least several years younger than them, and Gareth could practically feel Eddie’s protective instinct kick in as he kept his hand on Dustin’s head. 

Together they tried to silence their breathing as the guards’ shouting continued on behind them. 

What was worse than their noises though, was when they unexpectedly and suddenly, went silent. 

Gareth’s breath felt far too loud as the stillness gained a suppressive weight, pressing down harshly against him and making it harder and harder to inhale. 

‘Panic attack.’ He realized, thoughts a touch detached. ‘You can’t afford to have a panic attack right now.’ 

Not when it had a high chance of getting them all killed. 

Slowly he moved his own free hand, placing it atop of Eddie’s, fingers gripping down in a way that was no doubt painful. 

Eddie glanced over to him and Gareth thanked every single time he’d smoked way too much weed, because his best friend immediately clocked what was wrong. 

Turned his hand over, so that Gareth could hold onto it atop Dustin’s hat. 

It didn’t help with the knowledge that his very much still drugged cousin and his equally drugged not-girlfriend were also hiding somewhere, or that there was significantly more Russians than there where terrified teenagers (and one--whatever age Erica was.)  

Flashlights cut shapes into the wall overheard, trailing along the Orange Julius menu. Quiet voices covered even quieter footsteps and Gareth had the sudden realization the probability of there being more than one guard carrying a huge gun, was very, very high. 

Worse?

This part of the mall wasn’t that big. There were only so many places to hide, and as such, only so many places to look. 

Death comes for everyone eventually, but Gareth hadn’t exactly expected it to show up before he hit twenty.

Not that they could do anything but wait. Pray to God and the universe and any other higher power he could think of to intervene, head pressed hard against the wood behind him as the small noises drew nearer.

What he hadn’t expected was for said prayers to get answered in the form of a of a fucking car being thrown into the Russian’s like bowling balls. 

“Run!” Dustin shouted, and Gareth wasted absolutely no time in doing just that. 

The only goal on his mind was to find Steve, get out, and then have a very long discussion about what the hell this all was, in that exact order. 

[bloodweep]

This is nsfw headcanons of Floyd btw!

“Yeah, yeah~”

Im so normal about him too, he’s so fucking cute I wanna scoop him up and never let him go

I headcanon him to be 5’8 by the way! The shortest out of the brothers

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Sweeter than sweet ࿐��

‗ ❍ man’s a huge fucking flirt with you, everywhere he can, doesn’t matter if his brothers see it

‗ ❍ his WINKS, UGH, they definitely mess with you more than it should

‗ ❍ will compliment you at any moment, all the time

‗ ❍ nicknames: baby, my love, darling, mi amor, honey, little dove

‗ ❍ I am sorry yall, this man is a sub top, hard sub top - though sometimes he enjoys fucking you, being told how to do it, his ears all droopy and eyes lidded

‗ ❍ enjoys you tugging on the base of his ears, will often move your hands up to them while kissing, begs you to tug on them when you guys are fucking

‗ ❍ surprisingly being the smallest he can still hold you up against the wall and fuck into you, hands on the back of your thighs to hold them up and out, not letting you close them

‗ ❍ has fangs like his brothers, his are just incredibly smaller, nearly nonexistent if you dont stare hard enough or let him bite

‗ ❍ loves it absolutely fucking MESSY

‗ ❍ drools a lot, literally everywhere, on the pillow, in your neck, on your back everywhere, drools a lot more when hes fucking deep into you more than when hes bottoming

‗ ❍ allows you to fuck him whenever you want it, you gripping and tugging on his tail, making it curl around your arm, his claws digging into whatever

‗ ❍ will beg to fuck you after

‗ ❍ is so into cum marking - more on the receiving end than anything, wants to forever smell you on him

‗ ❍ very into being praised but also will praise you in return, especially when hes fucking into you “oh thank you, thank you”, “youre so pretty”, “so tight”, “thank you for letting me fuck you”

‗ ❍ would love for you to cover his mouth while he fucks you

‗ ❍ definitely cries whether giving or receiving

‗ ❍ first time you gave him head he sobbed, his hands covering his mouth as he sobbed, letting you suck him dry

‗ ❍ enjoys being overstimulated until he cant think, only grabbing onto whatever you allow him

‗ ❍ when you do let him fuck you, you ride him nearly all the time, keeping him pinned right in place, on foot pressing against his throat lightly to keep him in place

‗ ❍ totally loves when you sit on his face, tears wetting your skin

‗ ❍ god hes just the biggest fucking baby when you guys fuck, perhaps he likes when you call him out on it, degrade him a little to get that familiar sting in his eyes

‗ ❍ so into sucking your fingers too, really into letting you gag him at the same time

‗ ❍ not much for voyeurism, rather likes it in secret, so distractions or prying eyes

‗ ❍ will wrap his hair around yours, gripping so tightly to find any type of grounding

‗ ❍ surprisingly is very different while in doggy

‗ ❍ in this he becomes very,, different, biting into your shoulder, soft little growls leaving him - his growls arent as deep as the rest of his brothers, not as really intimidating either, tail ridged but wagging slightly, his thrusts so hard and deep it forces you to fall onto whatever surface he is fucking you so hard on

‗ ❍ his arms wrapped around you constantly, hands pressed into your abdomen

‗ ❍ once hes in you good luck getting him out, he enjoys how warm you are and WILL beg to stay in, will sob the hardest when hes begging, he craves the closeness

‗ ❍ this motherfucker is totally into cum inflation, gripping and scratching your abdomen as it expands with his cum

‗ ❍ definitely eats his own cum out of you, cleaning his cum off of your thighs

‗ ❍ god this fucker would love to suck on your chest too, sucking and nipping all around when he can

‗ ❍ probably has a mommy/daddy kink but that’s to be explored more later

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

Let me know what you think! And if you want anymore add

Tagging: @n3rdy247

Here’s another gif I made 🫶

[pigcowboys]

part 3 where percy confesses plss😭

pairing: percy jackson x gn! reader

summary: percy finally explains the reason he's been acting so weird.

warning(s): awkward conversations, mutual pining (pls they're very slow..), cursing, love confessions, kisses.

a/n: UGHH THIS TOOK FOREVER IM SO SORRY. tysm for all the notes on both parts !! :) i finally managed to pop out the final part even if it took a minute.. truly trying my best to clear up all the requests in my inbox, just give me a minute!!

part 1 part 2

school was slow - as always.

you watched out the window intently, trying your best to tune out the teacher's nonsensical chatting as you focused on the small robin that was seated outside on the arm of a tree.

you were so bored you were watching a bird.

seriously, school had to be some kind of legal torture method.

the bird flapped around like he was looking for something, tweeting eagerly when he seemed to get his hands onto a random stick.

hmm..must've been building a nest.

he rushed forward to place it, the twig dropping from his mouth as he hopped around, trying to find it almost nervously.

you watched with amused eyes, bracing your head in the palm of your hand as your mind started to wander. school was back in session and because of that, you had made the crushing decision to leave camp half-blood in order to pursue an education.

of course, as per request of your mother. she cared about you - a bit too much you'd guessed because for whatever reason she'd decided to put you in a school that was so strict they cut down on students if their shoelaces were so much as a tad bit too eye-catching.

you tore your eyes away from the bird to focus on your teacher who was still very much into the lesson she was teaching.

only a few more minutes till class had ended - you just had to hang in there..

“and so..” the loud ring of the bell cut your teacher off, simultaneously alerting your body to make the swift action to pull your backpack into your lap, sweeping all your things inside as you hauled yourself up, rushing out the classroom door.

one more day here and you might just throw yourself out the window, you thought.

your scruffy shoes dragged against the polished and shiny marble floor of the hallway as you pushed past the sea of people that were flooding out of each classroom.

you didn't hate this school - well, it was the only school you hadn't accidentally destroyed so, there was no room to complain. it wasn't any camp half-blood though, as bitter as you were about being a demi-god, you still missed being in a community where you all had at least one thing to relate to.

at this school you'd be lucky to find a person who had the same music taste as you..

you pushed past the last person, stomping down the stairs as you spotted a figure in the distance standing just a few ways near the front entrance of your school. you quirked an eyebrow at the fellow, a smile pulling onto your lips as you approached the person closer.

“so, are you stalking me now?” you asked, slightly amused.

percy smiled back at you. “yeah, sure, you wish.”

you pulled him into a gentle hug despite the emotions inside of you being anything but things of that nature, pulling away to exhale dramatically. “gods, if i stay one more second here i might end up maiming my english teacher.”

"between me and you, i can't tell who has a worse school - i got like, 6 pages of math homework today."

you stifled a laugh, causing percy's face to shift to one of unamusement. “thanks for that, makes my life seem a lot less horrible.”

percy stared right ahead at you, expression not changing.

you'd be a goddamned liar if you said you hadn't thought about percy every second you spent away from camp half-blood. i mean, how could you not? this summer was so..weird.. for no reason too. not that you hated it - it was amazing! suuper fun. well, spending like 4 days in the infirmary wasn't very fun but - you digress.

you hadn't seen percy or honestly, really anyone for a few months since summer ended. despite all the phone calls and texting, you'd never had the pleasure of seeing him in real life. you were both so busy too the idea of planning a hangout was completely out of picture.

it was until now, at least.

so, seeing percy jackson parked outside of your school on his beaten blue bike with slightly rusty handle bars on this random autumn afternoon was not apart of your plan. in fact, you were thinking of passing out when you got home and sleeping like a log.

he looked the same, for the most part except his hair was a bit more grown out now, bangs slightly overgrown on his face. you were sure he hadn't gotten a proper haircut in a minute or two. he looked more mature now too - to you at least. his shoulder were broader and his awkward voice that cracked unexpectedly was replaced a more..raspy and warm voice that tickled your ears whenever he spoke.

“what're you doing here?” you asked, offering him a confused smile. he tucked his hand into his pocket

“i wanted to take you out,” he replied, avoiding eye contact.

you eyed him curiously, grabbing the straps of your backpack. “like...on a date?” you joked.

“do you want it to be?”

you paused, slightly stunned by his newfound confidence. a smile unknowingly made it’s way onto your face as you snorted, pushing him playfully as you hid your burning face.

“are we riding over?”

percy smiled, hopping onto the bike as he slid his helmet onto his head. he scooted over to make space for you. “if you're not too scared..”

you smiled back at him, laughing as you threw your bag into the small basket in front of the bike, plopping down behind him. you hesitated to wrap your arms around him, goosebumps growing on your upper arm as you braced against his back.

“you alright back there?”

“mhm..” you mumbled out. “let's go.”

"how'd you get the money to pay for all this stuff?"

you tried your best to keep as much good inside your mouth as you could as you and percy walked side by side. you hadn’t had a proper unhealthy meal in weeks — all thanks to your mom’s newfound obsession with kale and all things vegetarian.

“saved up,” he replied nonchalantly. “nothing too important.” you hummed in response as you tended to the oversized slushee cup that was clutched in your right hand.

“so, what’s the real reason you decided to come find me?” you asked suddenly, catching Percy off guard.

“you’re not a very good listener.”

“and you’re not a good liar,” you quipped, a suspicious look on yo ur face. “why’d you suddenly decide you wanted to hang out?” you didn’t mind that percy had came to visit you — really. it’s just, you two didn’t live near each other at all.

so, for him to suddenly appear outside of your school on a whim seemed too peculiar to just be as simple as “wanting to hang”. percy analyzed you silently before shrugging. “well..i guess I just missed you then?”

you offered him a teasing smile. “is that so?”

“so.”

you laughed to cover up the hard pattering of your heart as your stomach fluttered. was Percy..flirting with you? like..flirting, flirting. you sneaked a glance at him as you continued to work on your slush, jumping when you felt Percy’s hand interlock with yours.

he didn’t look at you, only continued to walk at a neutral pace beside you. moments like these made you question your status with him, like isn’t it slightly weird for friends to be walking hand and hand down the street? is that..normal? well, it is for you two.

“where are we going?”

percy glanced at you. “somewhere..”

you quirked an eyebrow at him. you trusted his judgement — of course but it was starting to get late, that sentiment being heightened by the dimmer sky and the fact you were starting to see more and more street lights power off.

your mother was sure to worry about where you were in a few hours. just what did Percy have to show you? your head was telling you to leave and catch a bus home while the rest of your body told you to shut up and go wherever this sea eyed boy led you.

“just through here, okay?” percy reassured as he stepped to the side, allowing you to go ahead of him. he seemed to of led you to some secluded forest area that was a few ways away from civilization. it was beautiful — amazingly so considering this was New York you two were talking about.

“percy what is this pla—”

your questions was cut off as percy placed his hands over your eyes, earning a nervous giggle from you.

“shh,” he cooed in your ear. “just follow my lead.”

“kind of hard to when I can’t see anything..” you replied, tripping over something that was seated on the floor of the forest. percy was quick to steady you, slowly walking you deeper into the forest.

you mind went numb as the sensation of his own warm skin against yours overtook your receptors. his skin seemed just as warm as it was that summer he spent in the infirmary with you. almost as warm as his hand that clasped your own as you sat on his bed, watching in confusion as he attempted to tell you something.

whatever that something was..

percy stilled behind you as he exhaled shakily. “okay, i’m gonna remove my hands now.” he said, slightly nervous. “don’t like..scream or anything, alright?”

“no promises.” you joked, earning a nervous chuckle from him. you waited expectantly as percy slowly removed his hands from your eyes.

you blinked your eyes open as you admired the scene in-front of you. the heart of the forest was decorated with various different fairy lights and other small lights, and at the center there was a small picnic basket with a picture of you seated next to it.

you recognized the picture from the first day you and Percy had met. you were attending the same school at the time and that day the school had planned a trip to six flags, one that you both attended.

seated knee to knee, you two ascended the tracks and despite all your mutterings about rollercoasters being boring — you still felt your heart jumping as you made your way up. then, right at the drop, your throat closed and you started to grow sick.

yeah..it wasn’t hard to imagine what happened next. percy was nice enough to check up on you after the trip despite being traumatized himself. held all your stuff for you while you threw up the rest of the your breakfast into the six flags public trash bin.

and your teacher, oh, your sweet caring teacher, caught the whole thing in a image that consisted of your sickly looking face attempting to throw up a peace sign and percy’s terrified looking face that was stained with your throw up who hugged you awkwardly, shooting a weak looking thumbs up.

you hated that photo — he knew that. it was probably why he used it.

your breath caught in your throat as you turned to face percy. he looked back at you with a warm smile on his face as he approached you hesitantly. you stood in place, watching him approach you. what should you say? what could you say?

“i’ve.. not been the best with my words..recently..” percy said, slightly embarrassed. “but, um..i don’t think i’d really forgive myself if I didn’t tell you this..” his face was flushed to capacity as he stood in-front of you. your lips trembled as you opened your mouth to say something to no avail.

Percy exhaled, stepping forward as he clasped your hand in his, bringing it to rest against his chest. your eyes casted down to look at your hand which rested there, the pattering beat of his heart loud as ever.

“i really like you.” percy admitted. “more than..more than i’ve ever liked someone in my life.” he stared into your eyes intensely as he tightened his grip on your hand. “and..i want to know if you feel the same way..” he paused. “please?”

you were at a loss for words. i mean, how could you have gaged this was what Percy had planned for so long? and how stupid were you for not seeing it all? everything that happened between the two of you at camp half blood..was he..? no, he was. he was trying to confess to you.

he felt the same way as you.

you slithered your hand out of his touch, bringing it to your side. percy’s face grew slightly alarmed, sadness growing on his face.

your stomach fluttered as you leaned in slightly, tongue darting out to lick your lips before you closed the gap between the two of you, pressing a kiss to percy’s lips. his eyes widened at the contact, freezing before kissing back hesitantly.

Percy wrapped his arms around your neck, holding you tightly as you pulled back from the kiss, a embarrassed look on your face.

“i couldn’t find anything to say.”

percy blinked at you, slightly shaken up. “you’ve said plenty.”

“clearly not enough since you genuinely thought I wasn’t going to like you back.” you huffed. “gosh, and while we’re on the topic — can we talk about how stupid I am?”

“let’s not,” percy mumbled. “we’d be stuck on it for hours.” you nudged him playfully. silence fell over you two again as you stayed still in each other’s arms, having an unspoken staring contest.

“i like you too, percy.” you mumbled. “i always have.”

a smile formed on Percy’s face as he nodded slightly. “yeah, okay..I’m glad.” he cleared his throat. “…do you have like, a specific amount of time you have?”

“shut up and kiss me again.” you replied with a smile, pulling Percy into you as your lips pressed against each other again. for a moment you almost forgot all about where you were and how late it was. all that mattered at the moment was the fact that you and percy were finally together.

well, it was for a moment.

you jumped as percy’s phone went off in his pocket, causing you to pull away from Percy immediately as he searched through his pocket for his cell. You eyed percy curiously as he brought the phone to your ear.

“mom! what’s..going on?.” he replied into the phone with a hushed tone. “yeah..they’re here..” he turned to face you to which you waved at him with a lopsided smile.

“uh, okay — we will..yeah we���ll be there.” he said before ending the call. Percy turned to you with a frown. you titled your head in confusion.

“are you up for dinner at my place? my mom wants to meet my new girlfriend.” he said, wars growing red.

huh. dinner sounded good right about now.

[bella-goths-wife]

Post sex conversation and assassinations on the side

Content: this is kind of just an introduction to the new au im creating basically

Warnings: mentions of sex, cigarettes, murder, drug overdose, terrible plot building, murder in exchange for money, drug use, alcohol use, gore

^first time making one of these so tell me if it’s trash

Butcher and Becca both let out a long sigh of relief as they enter an embrace and enjoy their post sex glow, laying together in the back of the truck that butcher had used to sneak out and meet her in.

He holds her lovingly as he gazed down at the woman he had thought to dead for so long, memorising the details of her face that had previously become blurry in his mind during her absence. Though, this lovers bliss he was temporarily experiencing was forever dulled by the knowledge that she’d have to return to her glorified cage and he would have to return to his hideout to avoid having her killed by homelander and his happy families delusions.

Butcher goes into his pocket and takes out his cigarettes before lighting one and taking a drag, becca looks at him with a disapproving gaze before taking it from his hand and puffing out the smoke in his face in an almost playful gesture. Butcher only smiles, falling into their old post sex routines already.

“I still can’t believe that you were here all this time” butcher says in a low, almost regretful tone “all by yourself”

“I wasn’t all alone” becca comments with an absent mind as she enjoys the heat of laying with her lover.

“Well yeah, you had the kid an’ all” butcher says with a slight scoff at the mention of homelanders spawn “but you can’t have much conversation with a bawling baby”

“No, there were more people than just Ryan and I” Becca explains calmly as she looks up at her lover

“There were?” Butcher says with a confused look “who?”

“Homelander has more than just Ryan” Becca explains “he had another kid”

“There’s more in there?” Butcher asks with a scoff as his head motions to the secluded neighbourhood that becca was being kept in

“Not anymore” Becca says with a shake of her head

“What happened?” Butcher asks with a slight bit of morbid curiosity

“I don’t know” Becca admits with a sigh “one day they were here, the next they’d gone and vought refused to explain”

“Who’s they?” Butcher asks curiously

“Never met the mom, she mostly stayed inside so I only saw her from her windows” Becca explains “but I met her kid, a sweet little girl who’d visit me most days”

“Homelanders kid being sweet?” Butcher asks with a scoff of disbelief

Becca elbows him in the side at the indirect insult to Ryan, butcher lets out a groan and shields himself from any future blows.

“Yes, she wasn’t like her dad, she didn’t even know who he was” becca says with a scoff “she was just a hyper little girl who wanted company, she was the only one I really talked too since Ryan was only a baby and her mother never left the house”

“How old was she?” Butcher asks curiously as he takes a drag from his cigarette

“She was eight when Ryan was born, she would have been around nineteen by now” Becca says as she does the math in her head

“Would’ve been?” Butcher picks up on the undertone of her words

“Last time I saw her she was thirteen, her and her mother just disappeared into thin air” becca says with a sigh “all their stuff gone and no trace of them ever existing”

“So you think vought killed them?” Butcher assumes with a scoff

“I don’t know, maybe?” Becca says with an unsure tone “I hope not”

“Why, she’s not your kid?” Butcher says with a confused expression “and she’s homelanders daughter”

“That doesn’t matter, she was just a kid” Becca states defensively before sighing “sometimes I just sit and wonder where she could be, if she’s safe and happy or if she’s buried somewhere here”

“Vought probably killed her” butcher states bluntly “that or they are milking her for whatever she had in a lab somewhere”

“Maybe” becca says with an unsure look “I just wonder where she is now”

———————————————————————-

“Your whiskey, sir” you offer the man with a smile as you place his drink on the coaster next to him

“Yeah, yeah” the man waves you off and takes a sip of his drink before turning back to his associates “Mike, you have to think about this, this is a big deal”

You keep your forced smile on as you return to your position next to the miniature bar set up in the hotels meeting room, holding your tongue and all the things you wanted to scream at this up his own ass executive.

“I’m hearing you joe, but it’s too much of a risk” the other executive states with a scoff

“But think of the money, we could profit if we just let homelander run off the script a bit” the man tries to reason

“And have him spout off a racist comment within the first five seconds of being on live TV? Yeah no thanks” the other executive shuts down the idea.

Their tedious conversation is interrupted suddenly by the loud blaring of the hotels fire alarm. They look at each other in shock briefly before spouting off complaints on the lack of professionalism.

The other executive tries to get up and unlock the door before quickly realising it’s locked from the inside.

“Give us your damn key” he demands with a scoff and an open palm, his irritation only growing as the hotels sprinkler system activates because of the fire alarm.

You simply shake your head and remain still as a statue next to the miniature bar. The executive practically growls as he begins charging towards you with an infuriated expression.

“Listen here, you little bitch” the executive yells out as he storms towards you “give me the fucking key, now-“

He’s interrupted by his own gurgling as his head slowly slips off of his shoulders and on to the floor and his body collapses. Your custom made metal bartending tray with razor sharp edges has embedded itself in the wall in the other side of the room on its journey through the executives throat.

The man lets out a scream as he looks at his friends now headless body before scrambling for the door and trying his hardest to yank it open.

“God, you people don’t know how to ask nicely for anything huh?” You say with a chuckle as you undo the bow tie and rolling up the sleeves of your bartending uniform, you scoff when you notice the man’s attempts to open the door “no point in doing that, even if you somehow managed to open it, you’d face two of my men who have been standing guard since we got in here”

The man stares at the door as he contemplates his options before he backs away from the door and arms himself with a cheese knife from the cheese board and stares at you. You almost chuckle at his sad attempts at self defence.

The man looks at you before arming himself with the knife and charging at you with the intent to kill you to escape.

You smirk as you make eye contact with the man while he’s charging at you, your pupils expanding to almost fill the entire eye.

The man stops suddenly and stands there in silence for a few tense seconds before dropping the knife and gripping his throat desperately, clawing at it like a feral cat.

Sweat accumulates on the man’s body as he feels it harder to breath and his body begins to fill with pains extending from his chest.

“They always go for the attack approach” you comment to yourself with a laugh as you go to the door to unlock it and let the other men enter

They give you a nod as they go to take the headless man’s body away, the man crawling desperately to them in a silent cry for help.

“They aren’t on your side, stupid” you say with a laugh as you crouch in front of him “they get the same payout as me, it’s unlikely they’ll give that up to help a fat slob like you”

The man claws at his chest before looking at the drink you handed him earlier. He then tries jamming his fat fingers down his throat

“What are you doing?” You ask confused before following his line of site and laughing “you think i poisoned you? Please, I’m not that sloppy”

You let out a laugh as you sit cross legged in front of the desperately dying man who looks at you with a mix of fear and confusion.

“Your overdosing” you say calmly as you grab his hair and lift up his head and look into his wild eyes “slowly and painfully”

The man lets out gurgled sounds of pain and confusion as he claws at your legs as if asking for mercy.

“Now we both know a good Christian man like yourself doesn’t do drugs, that’s the message you spread to the press anyway” you say with a smirk “so let me explain, I’m currently giving you the effects of cocaine which would usually be a pleasant experience but I’m making sure you get the effects of too much cocaine”

The men who had removed the body come back in and began to set the scene in the hotel meeting room, trashing things and laying out lines of coke on the table and around the room.

“I could have chosen a more pleasant drug to do this with, a less painful one” you explain with a chuckle “but you pissed off the wrong people and our client has asked that we do this as painfully and humiliating as possible”

You get up and you get a small bit of coke on your fingertips. You grip the man’s jaw until his mouth opens and you let out a huff of disgust as you put your fingers in his mouth and you spread the cocaine on his gums to leave physical residue for the post mortuary exam to uncover and the press to exploit and use.

“This isn’t gonna look good for you, a good Christian man found overdosed on coke” you say with a grin “what will the wife think?”

The man’s eyes well up with tears as he sobs out in pain. You laugh with a grin as you get up and use your heel to tip him on his back.

“Sugar” one of your friends call as he finishes dressing the room for the press pictures “we only have five minutes to leave before the supes get here, hurry up and finish it”

You sigh before giving a thumbs up to your two friends who were becoming increasingly more anxious as the time goes on, you think about making them experience the effects of a Xanax to get them to chill out but you decide against it with a shake of your head.

“Well then, guess our time has ended here” you say with a grin as you look down at the dying man “Edgar sends his regards, don’t piss off people with connections like he has if you want to stay alive next time”

You increase the dosage mentally as your eyes connect which pushes him over the edge and the life slowly drains from his eyes.

“Sugar” your friend yells again as you go over to where your tray had embedded itself in the wall “two minutes, hurry the fuck up”

“One sec” you say with a huff as you grab the tray and pull it free from the wall.

You pull the tray free with a groan before cleaning the blood from it. It shines as you hold it up to your face and you stare into your own eyes while you recite the chemical makeup for the cocaine and the dosage in your head, you watch as your pupils dilate to the large size again before feeling the familiar sensation of energisation fill your body pleasantly.

“Okay, ready” you say with a excited grin as you grab your friends hands and begin to run out the room “let’s get out of here”

You and your friends leave quickly and run free, leaving behind the slumped over dead body of the executive who had been making challenging decisions within vought.

You hoped Mr Edgar would be happy enough with your job to leave a hefty tip.

This is probably super stupid but I’ve had the idea for this kinda of power for ages and I just needed to write it down.

Let me know what you think :)

[testdummie]

CELEBRATING MY VICTORY OF TAKING OVER THE MULTIVERSE!

Hey guys it’s meee!!! Striker the all powerful god of the world~ your new master for all of time~ and we are having a big celebration for my successful takeover of this world! And I have all my (currently caught so far) slaves and my friends here~! 

Here are my three bakers~ and they decided too (was forced) to make us all a beautiful cake~!  Extra chocolate~ extra everything~ my three amazing chefs did so good~ so everyone you better thank robot, flower and cat~

everyone’s real happy to be here~ because they are totally not forced to be here~ we are gonna party all night long~ NO SLEEPING FOR ANYONE. And at 12…. We are gonna have one massive fun event~ an event full of very ironic karma…. So chat, everyone here remembers the fireworks on forth of July right~? Since I couldn’t think of anything for cash bot to do…… and I’m still very annoyed with six horns… GRRR! I CANT GET HER TO REACT TO ME DOING ANYTHING!!!!!! SO MAYBE SHE WILL REACT TO THIS…

Last time she tied the Clyde to the fireworks…. SO NOW THE CLYDE IS TYING HER TO THE FIREWORKS!!! BAHAHAHA! I hired the Clyde to do this and make sure she doesn’t get away!!!! I told it to make sure the ropes are extra tight!!! NOW THAT WILL GET HER FREAKING OUT!!! NO MORE BLAND LITTLE TO NO REACTION FACES TO ME!!! NOW SHE WILL GIVE ME MY ATTENTION I DESERVE!! I WAS gonna tie P to the fireworks too but since he started talking and giving me what I want… and he made such a good cake….. he shall be spared tonight. :)

And don’t worry for six horns, if she dies or gets hurt I can just snap my fingers and fix her right up! Like no injury ever happened! 

Also weird thing that keeps happening, for some reason there was this note in front of the castle saying “ohhhh dad im coming for you, I have questions and your giving me answers” or smth like that…. Was someone trying to rizz me up? Was someone calling me their daddy? 

Whatever, if this I’m assuming is a rizzler comes in, it will take forever to even find me. This place is MASSSSIVVEEE! I don’t even know where everything is! I stole the place from someone damn it! Idk though- there’s cameras everywhere and I keep seeing the motion sensor activate but no one is there…. Maybe someone’s using magic to mess up my cams, Or maybe someone hacked them…. Oh well! I’ll deal with it after the party!

[areyouwell]

Is there any chance you'd do one shot still relating to Phobophobia series? Like how they both adjusting their lives back to the mansion after two years. I just loveeee their dynamic sooo much I physically need moree <33

turns out... yes. it seems there was a chance. a large chance... so here it is <3

'Til One of Us Keels Over' – A Phobophobia Oneshot

Pairing: Logan Howlet x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: None :)

Word Count: 5.6K

A/N: BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND! to other's who've sent in requests, IM ON IT DONT U WORRY, almost halfway through one of them already and have another planned out. though whilst idk if this counts as a request i simply couldn't say goodbye to Firefly and Logan quite yet. anon, it turns out i also physically needed more of them, so we shall both be feasting

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside @justice4billiam @holyhumorliteraturelight @cxptainbuck @sseleniaa @sadslasher13 @yallgotkik @whyamistillontumbler @maddiedinosaur @bethexo07 @pwpwppeepeoor @y08h

The shrill ringing of the school bell interrupted the calm, studious silence of your classroom, instantly every single one of your students put down their pens and started to pack up their books. It was a shame since it had been forever since you could get them into a studying trance such as this, but they’d worked hard enough and you weren’t about to be one of those teachers who kept their students behind after the bell had rung just for the sake of wielding the power of being a professor. 

“I want that mission analysis on my desk by next Wednesday. No excuses, Bobby, I know there’s a game on Monday but you have ample time to work around that,” You gave the boy one of your hard stares that told him there was no room to argue before he could even open his mouth. 

“Will we be in the danger room next Wednesday?” Jubilee asked, almost skipping up to your desk, her books held tightly against her chest. You hummed thoughtfully, casting another raised brow to the rest of your students who’d each gathered in little groups with their friends to discuss whatever it was they were doing next. 

“That highly depends on the rest of your classmates and how many reports I have on my desk next week.” You didn’t have to worry about Jubilee, whilst yes she could be a chatterbox in class, and yes she could get easily distracted by the others, she tried exceptionally hard with her studies, and you had no doubt her report would be the first one on your desk come next Wednesday.

Her eyes lit up as you told her your terms and conditions, turning back to the small group of three and bounding up to them, explaining emphatically that they all had to get their homework in or they’d be stuck in the stuffy classroom for another week. You huffed an amused smile as they all turned to Bobby pointedly, Marie poking the centre of his chest with her gloved hand. You couldn’t believe they all only had one year left of studies before they were free to be whoever they wanted to be. You knew a large majority of them wanted to join the X-Men, but you also knew there were a few who wanted to attend university as well, further their education and find their place in the world. It warmed your heart to think you’d contributed somewhat to their futures. It made everything worth it. 

With a crack of your neck, stretching your hands high above your head to loosen up your shoulders, you exhaled a heavy sigh as the last of the stragglers left your classroom, muttering apologies by the door as they exited. You frowned in confusion, looking over to ask them why they were apologising, before your features relaxed into a fond smile, now understanding that they weren’t apologising to you, but to the man currently leaning against the doorframe, broad arms crossed across his chest.

They must have bumped into him on the way out. 

Your heart grew three sizes just seeing him, any tension in your body left over from a day’s teaching leeching from your body as you took in his soft, fond smile bathed in the afternoon sunlight. 

Six months. Six months and he was still trying to adjust to having you back. To not wake up soaked in sweat and choked with grief. To not wander the halls of the school aimlessly looking for you despite knowing you weren’t there. Six months and he still had to make sure you were alive and well at every opportunity he got—break times, small gaps between classes, lunches, and when classes ended. You never needed to go looking for him because he was always by your door waiting for you. 

“You’re gonna permanently dent my door frame if you keep leaning on it like that.” You said flatly, trying in vain to seem like seeing him didn’t light you up from the inside. You turned your attention back to the stray papers on your desk, aimlessly organising them to stop yourself from looking in his direction. It was just a little game the two of you played. Logan would show up at every opportunity he could and you’d pretend to find it irritating, despite the both of you knowing you still needed this. Still needed the reassurance that the both of you were still alive and well and here and breathing and–

“Jean’ll fix it.” He shrugged, heart blossoming as you huffed a reluctant smile, finally looking back to him, your one golden eye glistening in the amber glow of the afternoon sun. Nothing really had changed about you other than that. You had no scars left from your life before, and one of your eyes was now a completely different colour, but other than that you were exactly the same as the day he lost you. 

Well, almost.

With a wry smile, you sent him a wink before dissolving into the sunlight, reassembling yourself from the shadows in front of him cast from the breaks in the windows. That was something he still needed to get used to. You had a whole new host of powers to work on, but most of it came to you naturally. When he’d taken you back six months ago, he’d carried you straight to Charles and Jean, the two of them running test after test after test on you. For the most part, you couldn’t help lashing out, the poking and prodding of white coats flaring your fight or flight response, far too similar to the horrors you’d endured. Jean had to teach Logan how to take blood since you wouldn’t let her anywhere near you. 

But when the test results came back, he’d never seen Jean so excited. Your brother’s DNA had somehow bonded itself to yours, intertwining your mutations and granting you access to a whole new range of powers previously inaccessible. You explained how you could communicate with Rowan throughout the two years you were gone, and most of the time he spent arguing with you, spitting pointless insults. The only times he would fall silent were when Logan would visit, and after countless conversations, listening to everything he was saying, he’d finally come around to your side, realising what he’d done, and what he’d taken from you. 

Logan didn’t let you out of his sight for two weeks straight after that. You got back to teaching a week later, and he would just sit in the corner while you taught your students, refusing to leave your side until you had to sit him down and explain you weren’t going anywhere. You were back, and that was that. 

It took another week for him to accept it. 

You pushed up onto your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck and softly pecking his lips with a swift kiss. His hands instinctively found your waist, lips pulling into a smile as they moved against yours. 

You hummed in contentment as you separated a fraction, leaning up to press your forehead against his, and he pulled you closer against him if that was even possible. 

“How’s your day goin’?” He asked, and you snorted a laugh, setting yourself back down on your feet before your calves cramped up. It was still slightly strange, to have limbs again after spending the last two years as nothing but consciousness, and you were still getting used to the sensation of muscles.

“As good as it was when you asked me an hour ago,” you responded with a playful grin. Logan rolled his eyes, biting back a smile when he flicked your forehead slightly, resulting in you waving him off. 

“No last class of the day bullshit from Bobby?” he asked with slight disbelief, following behind you as you returned to your desk to gather up your materials and various mugs of coffee. His surprise only increased when you shook your head, handing him the things you couldn’t carry.

“Nope, honestly they were great today. Probably because they knew this was punishment for fucking about last week,” You shrugged as Logan took your bag off you and slung it over his own shoulder. “They did grumble a bit when I said we’d be working with books today rather than their mutations, but accepted it when I reminded them of the consequences of their actions. After that, they were good as gold.” You drained the final dregs of your coffee, grimacing as little bits of bitter grounds flooded your mouth and you suddenly remembered why you’d left the little bit at the bottom in the first place. 

Logan set his chin atop your head for a brief moment and you leaned back into him, warm adoration wrapping around your heart. 

“What’d ya want for dinner?”

You felt his voice vibrate against the back of your head, reverberating through your skull in a way that had your mind blissfully blank, exhaling a relaxed breath caused purely by his proximity. 

“Not sure. Could make a stir fry? Oooo, or a curry? I think we still have some leftover rice somewhere. Chicken curry?” You asked, turning to face him only to find his eyes completely lost on your features, drinking you in as if it were the first time he laid eyes on you. “What…?” You prompted, watching him blink from his trance.

“Nothin’... just rememberin’ this isn’t a dream, s’all.” He explained, and your heart broke a little for him. Setting down one of the mugs in your hand, you cupped the side of his fuzzy jaw, brows pinching as he leaned into your touch as if to remind himself it was real. It was something that had happened a few times. You’d turn to find him in his own head as he looked at you, a faraway glaze hazing his eyes before you dragged him back to reality. He’d divulged once what he was thinking about, how fucking lucky he was you were back. How he didn’t understand what he’d done to deserve this twist of fate. How fucking terrified he was of suddenly waking up and you being gone again. 

“Still here…” you whispered, smoothing your thumb across his cheekbone. He breathed a gentle sigh, nodding infinitesimally, his eyes fluttering closed as he basked in your presence.

“I know.” He answered with equal quiet, readily accepting the much-needed reassurance before he placed a kiss against the heel of your palm. You stayed like that for what felt like hours, simply letting him feel you, letting his heart readjust to being able to love you freely once again when such an act would have caused so much pain six months ago.

“C’mon,” you murmured lowly, smiling softly as he breathed in your scent one more time, before allowing the moment to end. “Kids’ll be getting hungry and I really don’t wanna deal with a hangry Morgana either.” Logan chuckled in response. 

You were so fucking grateful Morgana stayed after your sacrifice. Not only for herself and her own mental recovery but also for those who had come to love her dearly. Logan had told you all the good she did in the two years you’d been gone, she’d been a key player in reminding him not to wallow as much, sharply kicking his ass the way he knew you would when getting out of bed seemed like such a monumental task. They’d been each other’s anchors. Each other’s rocks. Picking the other up when they fell. And when Logan returned with you in his arms, she almost fell to her knees in sobbing disbelief, racing across the hall to envelop you in an embrace that had the air in your lungs fleeing. 

That, and the fact she’d grown extremely attached to a certain German teleporter had her sticking around. 

“Can’t argue with that. Curry it is,” Logan placed a kiss to your forehead, picking up the mug you’d placed down and tucking you against his side as you both left to deposit your belongings in the staff room and make a start on dinner. You didn’t often cook for the older kids, they were content with making or ordering their own meals, but you found immense satisfaction in cooking for the younger ones. Calling them to the dinner table with Ororo in tow, sitting them all down, making sure they ate not only the ‘nice’ parts but the vegetables as well. Most of them were good at eating it all, but there were a few who stubbornly would try to hide broccoli beneath their cutlery. 

Thank fuck for Ororo, because honestly? You didn’t have the heart to make them eat it. 

You were just about to enter the staff room when Logan stopped in his tracks, pulling you closer to him as he sniffed the air, a snarl bubbling from his throat, arm tightening around your shoulders. Cautious adrenaline leaked into your veins as you looked from your partner to the closed door. 

“What?” You asked, placing a hand on the centre of his chest as if you could feel what was going through his head. But your question shouldn’t have been ‘What?’, but rather ‘Who?���.

“Erin.” He ground between clenched teeth, eyes narrowing at the panels of the door as if he could see right through it. Your whole body tensed, eyes blowing wide at his answer. What the fuck was she doing here? “Wha’d’ya wanna do?” His gaze slid from the door to your side profile, watching as you entertained the multiple courses of action. You could turn around, wait until she left and asked what the fuck she was doing later on in the evening, avoid her altogether and continue as if she never existed.

Or…

“Never been afraid of confrontation before…” you raised your chin at the unexpected challenge, a smile pulling at the corner of your lips as Logan pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“Atta girl.” He murmured into your hair, and you steeled your nerves before pushing the door open and stopping as five pairs of eyes turned in your direction. Most of them you knew well, saw them every day. But there were two you hadn’t seen in a very long time. 

Atlas gasped your name, mouth agape in disbelief, his eyes welling up as you clenched your jaw. It wasn’t that you had a problem with him, specifically. After all, he’d practically brought Morgo back from the dead. It was the way he’d forgiven Erin for what she did. Not only that but found a way to love enough to ask her to marry him. The way she’d been allowed to get a happy ending whilst you and Logan had been forced to separate for two fucking years, neither of you knowing if you’d ever see the other again. 

Logan placed a steadying hand against your waist, and you could almost feel the waves of anger emanating from his body. His protective streak had only increased since getting you back. In unison, you both turned to look at Erin, who’d been staring at you in complete and utter astonishment that you were standing before her. Alive. Your eyes flickered down to the gnarled scar on her neck, and you couldn’t help the twisted satisfaction in your gut that she would forever have a reminder of what she did. 

The room was thick with unbearable tension, everyone waiting for someone else to be the first one to say something. You reserved the right to keep your silence, even if it meant you didn’t say anything for however long this situation was going to last. But, predictably, Charles cleared his throat, wheeling forward as Morgana stepped out of the way and closer to you, casting you a glance that you could only interpret as ‘the nerve of this bitch’. 

“I believe we should leave these four to catch up. Ororo, Logan, outside please.” 

“You’re crazy if you think I’m goin’ anywhere,” Logan growled, tightening his hand against your waist, his thumb swiping soothingly against your shirt. 

“I’m not gonna do anything… I just wanted to talk. To see if it was real.” Erin offered weakly, and Logan almost lunged for her throat for the crime of merely opening her mouth. But you settled a hand atop his on your waist, 

“‘S’okay. She’s harmless to me now,” venomous threat laced your tone as you pulled both light and shadow toward you as if to emphasise your point, allowing the molecules of each to fuse to your shoulder blades, two juxtaposing wings flaring from your back. One of glittering shadow, the other of glowing light. 

Logan’s chest flared with pride when Erin took a slight step back, fear dancing in her traitor’s eyes as she slowly put the pieces together of just how much stronger you were now, and how that had come to be. Morgana grinned with complete unrestraint at you, unafraid to show how delicious she was finding your lack of fucks to give now. 

“Okay,” he cupped your jaw, tilting your head to look at him before he descended on you, capturing your lips in a searing display of passion. You knew why. You knew it was a fuck you to Erin, a demonstration of what she almost took from the both of you and a message to say, despite everything, you’d made it through. “I’ll be outside, yeah?”

You nodded, breathing a long, grateful sigh against the lower half of his face, before turning to deliberately look at both Erin and Atlas. Logan sent them one final, knife-edge glare before turning to follow Charles out the door. Ororo placed a hand on your shoulder as she passed you, sending you a concerned look.

“You going to be okay?” She asked, loud enough for the two to hear her. You wondered if they’d all had a meeting about this, about how they would behave if Erin ever showed up again after you returned. You sent her a grateful smile in response, nodding with the surety you genuinely felt. 

“I’ll be fine. Like I said, she’s harmless now. I’m not the one suffering with the guilt of what I’ve done.” You shrugged, looking over her shoulder to see Erin’s expression falter slightly, her eyes meeting the floor. Ororo clamped her lips to stop herself from smiling, squeezing your shoulder briefly before heading out, shutting the door behind her. 

You’d lived through your fair share of awkward silences before, but nothing even came close to his. You could almost taste the unspoken words. 

“You’re looking well,” Atlas was the first to speak, attempting to break the thick ice with the verbal equivalent of a toothpick. “Both of you are–”

“Cut the shit, Atlas,” Morgana interjected with venom lacing her tone, eyes hard and lips taut. You blinked in surprise, before remembering that you weren’t the only one who suffered at the hands of Erin. Though they’d seen each other since, Logan had told you just how frosty Morgo was toward the girl, never truly forgiving her for what she did. “Why’re you here? I’m assuming it’s not for wedding gifts.”

Your eyes fell to the matching bands around their fingers, a kernel of spite curling in your gut. How fucking dare she have the audacity to get fucking married. To live a happy life whilst you were readjusting to being alive again. 

“No… Erin just wanted to–”

“Did Erin lose the ability to talk after my brother slit her treacherous throat?” You asked with a disgusting amount of faux sweetness in your tone. Atlas visibly bristled, and Erin narrowed her eyes to you.

“Obviously not, since you just heard me speak.” She spat back.

“Point still stands.” Morgo set her hand on her hip, jutting out her chin in challenge. The room fell silent again, charged tension humming in the space between you. Would this end in a fight? You honestly wouldn’t be mad. You’d been itching to beat the shit out of her ever since you returned. 

But the fight fell from the green-haired girl’s eyes, her shoulder slumping, a hand braced against the side of her temple. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. Nothing excuses what I did, but you gotta understand, there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do to get Atlas back.” She linked her fingers through her husband’s.

“Yeah? I hope that helps you sleep at night. We done?” You asked, not bothering to wait for a response before turning to head back out the door, already sick of this conversation. You weren’t about to give her the closure she needed. The villainous bitch didn’t deserve it. 

“What if it was Logan?”

You stopped in your tracks, eyes blowing wide as if you’d just been struck by lightning. 

“What did you say…?” your tone lowered dangerously, deadly clipped notes exaggerating your words. 

“What if Kreva had Logan? What would you have done?”

You whipped back, stalking toward her, every step measured. “I would have trusted my fucking team. My friends. I would have put my faith in them and worked together to get him back.”

Erin scoffed a harsh laugh. “That’s bullshit and you know it. Hell, you were ready to storm in there alone because Kreva had Rowan, so don’t stand there and tell me you wouldn’t have broken the world to get him back.” 

You were at a loss for words. Because she was right. Fuck, she was right. You don’t know what you would have done if Kreva had Logan rather than Rowan, but you sure as shit wouldn’t have waited around for two weeks planning meticulously. 

“That’s not fair, Erin–” Morgana started uncertainly, but Erin cut her off. 

“How? How isn’t that fair? Oh, it’s unforgivable when I do whatever I have to to get the man I love back but all of a sudden it’s a-okay for Miss Martyr over here to do it? How’s that fair?”

Your jaw tensed, expression steeling to dismissal as you squared your shoulders. “You live with the weight of what you did, Erin. We all know how guilt can eat us alive but honestly? You live with its teeth sunk into your neck.” You glanced down pointedly to the scar across her throat, before turning your gaze to Morgana. “We’re done here.”

Morgana nodded as you turned to leave, but a tight grasp around your wrist stopped you. 

“You don’t understand, I was so afraid of losing him… you don’t get it.”

You mimicked her sharp bark from earlier, raising a knife-like brow. 

“I don’t get it? Me? Of course I get it, Erin. But there’s a difference,” you yanked your hand back from her grip. “I wouldn’t be here begging for forgiveness. I wouldn’t be invading the lives of the people I betrayed looking for some pathetic form of closure. I have my closure. Good luck finding yours.” And with that, you stalked from the room, past an obviously eavesdropping Ororo who immediately shifted to look like she was inspecting the backs of her nails. You didn’t mind, though. Because honestly? You were pretty proud of how you handled yourself in there. But there was one thing replaying in your mind as you marched directionless through the halls, not even noticing Logan calling your name from the lounge as you made your way outside. 

‘What if it was Logan?’

“Leave her,” Charles placed a hand on Logan’s forearm as he made to follow you, pausing only to give the Professor an incredulous look. He nodded in emphasis. “Let her reflect. Whether she thinks she needs to or not, some things said in that room need to be considered.”

Logan sighed. He’d deliberately moved away from the door, rolling his eyes at Ororo who mentioned she was dying to hear you dress the bitch down. But he couldn’t let himself impose on your privacy like that. If you wanted to tell him, that was fine, and he’d listen diligently. If you didn’t, that was fine too, and he’d serve as a distraction from whatever the hell just happened. Of course, he had a preference, but he wasn’t about to tell you that.

It was dark by the time you returned, and Logan had already rearranged the plates on the table four times out of sheer lack of knowing what to do. He had to fight tooth and nail to save you some dinner, batting away the hands of both students and teachers alike, sending glares to anyone who dared approach the bubbling pot. He’d kept the bolognese at a steady heat, hoping to shit it wouldn’t be horrendously overcooked by the time you came back. 

And though he was certain the meat would be hard as leather by now, the concern fled his mind when you trudged back through the front doors, sighing heavily. His heart cracked at how exhausted you sounded, worry eating away at his chest. His brows pinched when you entered the kitchen, looking as if you’d just fought several wars. On instinct he crossed the floor, wrapping you in his arms and guiding your head into his neck.

It was your favourite place on Earth. 

“You okay…?” He asked hesitantly, and you breathed deeply against his collar. 

“Yeah… no. I don’t know,” you answered, an unnatural quiet hushing your words. Warm hands cupped either side of your neck as he brought you to look up at him, his thumbs smoothing either side of your jaw. “It was weird. Seeing her again. Didn’t really know how it would go but it went about as well as I thought it would.” You shrugged, your hands busying themselves with the buttons on his shirt, fiddling with them to serve as a grounding point. 

“Wanna talk about it?” He tilted his head to the side, palms sliding up to brace the sides of your face, the pads of his thumbs now gliding across your cheekbones, caressing the deep purple space beneath your eyes. 

Your teeth pulled at the skin of your lower lip in contemplation, and he immediately smoothed over the hurt. “I just– she asked what I would have done if our roles had been reversed,” you began, and Logan raised a brow, silently asking you to elaborate. “If Kreva had you, and not Atlas. She asked what I would have done if I were in her shoes… I don’t know, just kinda made me think that we’re not so different after all, she and I,” You fell silent, your mind still stuck on the conversation from earlier. Taking the last few hours to contemplate your answer, you still didn’t have one. You were ready to forsake the team and go after Rowan alone if you had to. What would you sacrifice for Logan? “I was so ready to hate her for the rest of my life. So ready to condemn her for what she did, withhold closure and forgiveness but… she has a point. Annoyingly.” 

Logan tilted his head, his eyes dancing with empathy. He knew exactly what you were going through because it was only thanks to Jean’s reasoning he didn’t come after you alone two years ago. And if he didn’t have the team behind him, who knows what kind of sick, twisted things he’d have done? And now you were struggling not only with the guilt of hating someone for doing something you yourself were capable of doing but also with the heavy realisation that you would do that kind of thing. 

“Just scared me, I guess…” you shrugged again, delicate hands gently holding either of his wrists as you gave up on grounding yourself with the buttons on his shirt and used his pulse points instead, your thumbs smoothing over the tendons. 

“I get it. Ya know I do. But realisin’ you’re capable of doin’ somethin’ like that doesn’t make you the monster,” he slid his hands from your jaw down to the backs of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly from the ground and placing you on the table, standing between your parted legs. “We had a plan. A plan that, if given half the chance, probably would have worked. Erin chose to sacrifice that chance despite knowin’ everythin’ Kreva had done. 

But you? You’re smart, sweetheart. Sure, you probably would have beat the shit outta Scott a few times, but you woulda known it was your best chance. You did know,” his hands found your jaw once again, angling your face back up to meet his eyes. “Just cuz you’re capable of it, doesn’t mean you’d do it. I’m capable of dismembering innocents if it meant I’d get you back, doesn’t mean I’d do it. Though I’d think real hard about it.” Your features scrunched as you fought to fight back the burning tears in your eyes, lips pursing, brows furrowing, you choked back the feeling of being both seen and accepted. 

“Okay…” you whispered, nodding a little before fully leaning into his touch as he planted a kiss to the centre of your brow and tucking you safely into the hollow of his throat, his arms slowly wrapping around your shoulders, his fingers winding through your hair. 

“Erin chose to act. You chose to trust. Not gonna pretend there ain’t similarities between you, but the differences are greater,” he murmured, the side of his cheek resting against the top of your head. Incrementally, you allowed yourself to feel his comfort, to wrap your arms around the side of his ribs and let yourself feel supported by him. “Although I’m not gonna stand here and say the idea of you tearing the world apart f’me ain’t somethin’ I’d say no to watchin’.”

You snorted a teary laugh, and the tight chains of concern dropped away from his heart with each slight, amused shake of your shoulders. Pulling back from his embrace a fraction, you exhaled your self-hatred and guilt, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. Logan looked down at you with nothing but sheer, crushing adoration, and you leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips, finding yourself savouring the familiar scratch of his scruff against your cheek and chin. 

“Thank you.” While it was only a peaceful breath of gratitude, Logan saw the weight behind it in your mismatched eyes, felt the depth of feeling in his very soul. 

“Anytime, Firefly,” he smiled softly before the irritated rumble of your stomach tore the blanket of reverie over the two of you. “Hungry?” He asked with the slightest smirk, and you grinned back. 

“Starved, never got round to that curry. What did the kids eat?” A fresh wave of concern donned your features, and Logan couldn’t help but fantasise for the briefest moment that you weren’t talking about the students. But your kids. His kids. 

A family. 

“Made a bolognese. Can’t balance the flavours of a curry like you can and didn’t wanna subject them to somethin’ that might be way too spicy. Or not spicy enough. Or just tasted of cardamom pods.” He watched that brief picture of concern wash away from your face, replaced by small snickers. 

“Can’t argue with that. And you do make a mean bolognese.”

“Learnt from the best.” 

“Damn right, you did.”

Logan took a small step back so you could hop down from the table, finding himself lost in the satisfied craving for domesticity he’d found with you. His eyes followed you as you went to pull out a plate from the cupboard, taking a pair of metal tongs to serve yourself a hearty portion of slightly cold spaghetti and grossly overcooked bolognese. A realisation hit him like one of your punches. He was a damn idiot for not asking you before this. 

“Marry me.”

You froze, eyes flying wide as you all but dropped your dinner to the floor, bracing a hand on the counter to steady yourself. Setting the plate down, you slowly turned to face him, those same tears from before returning to your eyes, only for a completely new reason. 

“What…?” you whispered, and Logan took a breath.

“Marry me.” He repeated with that same matter-of-fact tone he’d used so long ago, it was achingly similar to when he’d told you to teach with him. “I don’t have a ring or anythin’ yet, wasn’t really plannin’ on askin’ you in the kitchen but–”

“Yes.”

Logan blinked. If he was being honest with himself, he hadn’t exactly thought much other than asking you. Or, telling you, he supposed. “What?”

“Yes. I’ll marry you. I said I wasn’t mad about it when you basically proposed two years ago. Ya think I would have changed my mind between then and now? Of course I’ll marry you.” You laughed, your smile unrestrained as he strode across the floor, crushing you in a tight embrace, his mouth instantly seeking yours, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his heart singing for you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, a sudden and intense fervour enrapturing your soul. 

You could have whined when he pulled back, the loss of contact causing you near physical pain, but you pushed through it to see those very same tears in your eyes reflected in his own. It didn’t feel real. After everything you’d been through together, the fear, the agony, the grief. 

None of this felt real. 

“I love you, ya know that?” He murmured against your lips, and you elicited a soft laugh.

“I bloody well hope so, we’re getting married.”

Holy fuck… 

You were getting married. 

“Though…” You continued, a glint of mischief sparkling in your eye. “On one condition…” Logan raised a brow, once again silently asking you to elaborate. “We change the vows. From ‘Til death do us part’ to ‘Til one of us keels over’. 

He huffed a laugh of pure fondness, still reeling from the fact he’d finally had the opportunity to ask you what he should have asked you years ago.

“Til one of us keels over.”

[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.

[blommp717]

i guess you don’t answer anymore but i’m hoping you at least read this because it’s genuine and i feel like i have nowhere else to post this. i just want someone to hear me. ignore this if it’s too long. i want to thank you for your posts. they are the only writings that have truly resonated with me ever since i discovered the law, neville, states, being, whatever we call this thing. but i’ll be honest i’m giving up today. i discovered the ‘law of attraction’ in 2019 when i was 18 years old. it is now getting to the last quarter of 2024 and i am 23 where i’ve evolved in understanding to where i found ‘nondualism’. i went from law of attraction -> law of assumption & neville goddard -> robotic affirming -> mindset fixing & joe dispensa -> states & edward art -> nondualism. however… i have never manifested a single thing in my life. i used to be filled with anxiety when i said this. fearing these words would cause it to keep going on but i don’t even want to fear anymore. it’s just the truth. your posts taught me that i don’t have to fear my words anymore anyways. i’ve had a dream for a long time. i don’t believe i will ever reach this dream anymore. along with that dream i also just really wanted good for my family and i. you know the basics like financial freedom, happiness, mended relationships. but throughout everything i’ve learned i could never make it work and i’m just done. i guess i will return to living a normal life and just hoping i make it. i hope i find happiness or just.. anything. i’m just letting go of it all because i feel like things shouldn’t be this hard. even going to caleb’s channel and watching his recent ‘your manifestation isn’t taking long, you are’ video…. i’m just… exhausted. i just dont know how to do this and i don’t think i can take life anymore anyways. but yeah i just wanted to say thank you. even though i could never find success, you taught me who I Am. and i’ll forever be grateful for your wisdom even though you’re a bit younger than me. i hope you find continued success and live a happy life. sincerely

THIS IS JUST THE FIRST PART TO THE HUGE POST, PLEASE TAKE YOUR TIME

After what felt like months away from tumblr I really dove into self-inquiry fully, and of course still am, and I promised you guys a mega post so here’s the initial information so far. There is more to come.

IM SORRY IF THERE ARE ERRORS IN GRAMMAR OR SMTH I WROTE THIS AT MANY DIFFERENT MOMENTS THROUGHOUT THE DAY!! FEEL FREE TO ASK QUESTIONS, ETC BUT PLS DONT ASK BY RESPONDING TO THIS POST, ITLL CAUSE SO MUCH SPAM ON THE FEED AND MY ASKS PAGE

Hello! Yes I have started looking back into my inbox (THERE ALLOT OF ASKS 😭😭🫶) but I absolutely plan on answering as many as possible, and because your post resonated with how I used to feel, I want to answer yours first.

So to begin with, It makes me so happy to know that what I’ve written has some kind of affect (that being positive). I can’t remember if I told you guys how old I was but I must have cus you seem to know 😭😭, yes I’m 19 we’re very close in age, this moment in life is when allot of us who figure out this stuff lean into it more because we realize how much of a leg up we have if we just “apply” the teachings this early on.

So first what I want to say to you is, no, your not giving up on a dream and neither are you going to live a normal life, I’ll make sure of that, this beautiful world that we step into gives us so much insight on what we inherently are. But I need to remind you and everyone else, this is not some big secret that has to be practiced, it’s a look at what we are and always will be. You have purpose and you deserve to be happy and enjoy a life that’s easy and fulfilling. I apologize in advance because this is going to be a pretty long post!! 🫶🫶

Let’s get rid of the labels and titles we’ve given these understandings as if they are for someone to learn and master. No one masters manifestation, no one will ever master manifestation and I truly don’t care for how many “success stories” they have, it doesn’t hold proving value of what they are (notice how I didn’t say who), we are not who’s, but that’s for later in the post.

The reason I’ve stepped away from the concept of manifesting is because it is inherently lack and separation based. No matter the teaching, they all seem to glorify the idea of getting and achieving which puts great pressure on success stories and all that rubbish. (Not me turning British) 😝😝, okay sorry, so yeah this also goes for nondualism, I don’t associate a title with what I learn, it’s not NonDualism it’s actually just self discovery in disguise of a teaching. But for this exact reason I don’t think to myself “I need to learn NonDualism better”, nononooooo I made this mistake wayyy to much due to the sole fact that I came in with the expectation that this would now teach me the secrets of manifesting. This is kind of the set up to more desire and lack, which is actually the opposite of the self-realization “journey”.

So, when you say you have never manifested anything in your life, I say this with incredible pleasure, that this is impossible, I know I know, before you start thinking to yourself that youve heard this before but I don’t think people go that in depth as to what that even means. So, your life and your problems, are not actually problems.

Self-realization is not the journey for the person to become consciousness, but to understand that you ARE consciousness to begin with. You does no reference a someone, but “ “.

This is going to be, quite a post so PLEASE hang in there. And I just want to add in, this is still not a seperate being trying to understand that it’s connected to conciousness, no, you as conciousness, infinite knowing, are so involved with the content that you appear as, you’ve tricked yourself into thinking that you are just 1 thing of the content. Let me use my first example.

We have given ourselves the greatest interpretation and key to knowing ourself, and that’s dreaming.

Every night, we sleep, HOORRAAYYYY, now let’s get into the details because this is where the magic happens and it clicks.

Take the moment before a dream appears, recognize that when the eyes are closed there’s this presence. Not the darkness, the presence. Something, but not a thing.

Stay here and forget the rest of the world exists for a moment. Now there is only this presence, it’s knowing, it’s being right? Now there’s no actual material but regardless, it is, something. This isn’t something out of this world it’s literally, you. From this, knowing or no-thingness, comes expressions, absolutely infinite potential, this is registered as a dream, but, before the dream in any way can be experienced, there always has to be some type of interpreter/lens, this comes in the form a person or better yet, senses. Of course, there’s nothing to the senses or the person but whatever it’s formulated from, which was that presence/knowing. The activity of this infinite potential that is the knowing, (you asleep) appears, only with the help of a pov/sight.

Nonetheless, it plays out, it plays stories of absolutely anything, for no reason at all, and as it does, we get lost to it, it starts to become real, and without even realizing it, it’s no longer a dream but something we’re experiencing, now you are the character in the dream and you naturally play out the dialogue and storyline and explore the fields, magic towers, and laugh and dance and make friends, and then you wake up.

When you wake up, you recognize “oh, nothing was actually happening”, now of course, when your the person in the dream it is very real, but even then, is it? Knowing what you know, there wasn’t actually a place with dialogue, no character of its own experience or life, no actual forests or fields and magic, no one actually laughing and dancing or friends, but simply the appearance of that. The illusion.

And it’s not that it’s only a formulation of you when you realize it is, but it always is, the dream doesn’t only become an illusion or “fake” when you wake up, it’s naturally just fake, REGARDLESS of how it seems to be. And regardless we sleep every night knowing that we’ll forget it’s a dream.

So I think you can see where I’m headed with this, I’m going to use the example Rupert Spira uses but twist it a bit.

You go to sleep in Australia and dream yourself in the streets of Paris, and you take on the identity of John, you don’t actually become John and experience the streets of Paris.

Now, John drinks coffee and he feels the sunlight warm his skin, sees the greenery, feels the wind, all of it. But despite the way it all seems the sunlight, the sensations that John has, is not actually real, and neither is John. John isn’t actually feeling anything, he doesn’t exist and there is no Paris being traveled. And it’s not John that realizes/awakens to the understanding that he’s fake and this is all a dream, it’s you, asleep in Australia that realizes it as you modulate/formulate as the streets of Paris, the coffee, and the greenery, and John, understand?

The activity of that presence, if you recall when we talked about closing your eyes, formulated as something that seemed so real, and that doesn’t give any reality to the dream itself, because there is no separating the knowing from the content known. Without the “space” for it to appear or form from, how on earth would there be the content? A bigger step forward is to realize that there isn’t even an actual dream occurring but it’s all the self knowing presence of, well, knowing. I want to add something very important before moving on.

Knowing does not happen for the purpose of pleasure, we naturally deconstruct false ideas like this as we go, but something you MUST understand about the nature of existence is, none of this is appearing for the purpose of ant experience, there isn’t actually an experience. No one is enjoying nor hating the illusion, it is simply an appearance.

In the same way that the aware/presence before the dream appears from it simply is, in this way, we are. It’s like saying the TV screen plays a movie and experiences it, or does it for the purpose of experience, no that’s silly, knowing has no inherent motive, it is, you (infinite knowing) don’t “happen” for a purpose, never mind happen at all, you are, and in this do you take form of something, your self aware nature of course knows the content of your own being, but that doesn’t mean the illusion can enjoy itself, or that you enjoy or experience the illusion, it’s just a plain appearance, and that’s it.

For example, when you close your eyes on this next demonstration, truly try to grasp the essence of what I’m trying to explain.

Bring from the nothingness/knowing when you close your eyes, a blue vase, know it in every aspect you can, incorporate every sense you can (even taste if your a little freaky 🫦🫦😭) and make it as present as possible. After you open your eyes I have a question for you. (I’m serious, do the damn practice it’ll help you) please take as much time you need to truly get in there (not too long I can’t wait all day)

okay hey, your back, now answer me this, from what did this immersive appearance take reality from? You and I know that there’s no actual vase despite its presence, no matter the vibrant or dull colors, no matter the feel, rough or glossy, its taste 🫦😭, its feel, etc. So what was the substance that formulated this? If you guessed knowing, your soooooo correct, if you didn’t it’s okay you get brownie points 🫶. But yes, now I need you to understand this verrrry clearly, the vase was not real!!!! Yet it appeared that way! This is AN ILLUSION SURPIRISISIEIEIEIEIEIEISISBWHH- yes. No matter how much you want to convince yourself and go back to the vase and its appearance and its feel or colors or any aspect of it, it wasn’t ACTUALLY happening and that means it didn’t take place for anyone or anywhere!!! All there was present was knowing, from knowing forms vase and every seemingly alternate way that it is known, feeling is a form of knowing, literally every sense is just a form of knowing. Every sense that was “used” to understand the vase was all just aspects and appearances of knowing, the color, the sounds, the taste, the feels, they didn’t formulate anywhere else, but nonetheless appeared as immersive and real because YOU BECAME FOCUSED ON THE CONTENT OF THE APPEARANCE RATHER THAN RECOGNIZE THAT IT WAS JUST APPEARANCE. And even though the content of the appearance you formed as became the focus, it still didn’t change the objective fact that there wasn’t someone actually there and experiencing it in any way.

The knowing in/on which appearances formulate is not something different than the appearance, there is nothing to the illusion but its reality, and its reality is knowing. In this way, the illusion couldn’t even be described as something real or taking place, as if it could exist apart from the source of it.

Knowing this is also knowing there is no such thing as the knowing OF, we never know of things or of experiences as if they are something seperate and exist seperatley from knowing itself, that’s literally impossible. Moving forward

You are not the person/character, and it’s not that you are a limited being and you have to wake up to the idea that you are infinite knowing, you have to realize that you were never something seperate, and that this is simply the modulation of your being, and it’s not a someone it’s more of a something.

Let’s starts stabilizing this.

To all of the experiences across centuries, theres one constant amongst the billions of people who’ve lived and are now and that is, I Am. We might not know for certain about anything else ever in this entire universe, and we might not even know who or what we are but for a fact we can say, yes, I am.

There’s no true word that can describe the infinite essence of being, so we use knowing or conciousness or god, all completely the same.

So, to every experience, without an ounce of doubt, there can be the claim, I am. This is knowing, and only from knowing comes the statement, because we must know we are in order to claim that we are. I think something that can capture this is a newborn, imagine yourself to be newly born, mere seconds I mean, eyes closed. You have no understand of anything, no thoughts, no memories, no identity, your pure experience is simply being/knowing, and I don’t mean the action of knowing, that’s not a real thing. Knowing is inherent, you don’t force it.

Going back to experiences. Any experience that is recognized, any seeing, and hearing, tasting touching, and of course feeling, is assumed to be the experience of the body and this is therefore falsely established as “me”, in doing so, we forget our true nature of freedom and limit our understanding and abilities to the limitations of the body.

I’m now going to help you realize the body is an interpreter, and not of a world that’s happening somewhere in time and space, but that the world is the interpretation/modulation/illusion/dream/appearance of our shared infinite being, AFTER being recognized through the interpretations, (sensations and perceptions). This also means that it’s in no way an actual measurement to what you fully are.

What experience is there to seeing? Better yet let me narrow it down, there is nothing to seeing as if there is someone doing the seeing. Seeing simply is. There’s no one to do it, just what is. There is sight, how is there an acknowledgment of the sight/seeing? There must be something to it that gives the understanding “oh I’m seeing this”. (Hint, it’s the same thing that let you know, that “I Am”). Knowing, yes, not knowing as an action, that’s not real, people don’t know, knowing is the essence of what we are (we are not people). But just wait for that. So all there is to sight is knowing, and I don’t think I have to do this but you can say the same about absolutely every other sense, because every single “experience” absolutely requires knowing. Without knowing, “experience” never is, I think we can all acknowledge that.

There is no such thing as the experience of being a human, Why are we deciding that this is what’s it’s like to be humans, we know humans we acknowledge humans but there is no such thing as being a human, in the same way that there’s no true way that there is something to being a fox or a bird or a rock, it’s only with labels are these ideas decided.

The only thing you’ll be able to muster up is memories, emotions, etc, but that doesn’t make it the inherent experience of being a human. Our first and only experience of what we are is knowing, and then knowing that we are, that’s it. In the same way that a babies first experience is not “I am a baby” or “I am a human”, rather it’s just knowing. If being human was our nature, that’s all we’d recognize, and from the very beginning. Our experience does not actually change from being/knowing, we simply forget that there is the knowing, and decide to focus on the body to be “me” or “human”.

You don’t need senses to know you are. Knowing is something unimaginable. Go ahead and try to find it by closing your eyes or even with them open. Can you grab or touch the knowing. Can you recognize its dimensions or what its appearance is? How old or young is it?

Do me a favor and find the edge where knowing starts and stops.

Let me know when you find it because you never will.

Even when you try, it’s only conciousness itself that searches for its own parameters.

By recognizing that your truly not the body, or this person you as knowing have pretended to become, the made up problems of the person disappear, well actually, you realize that there is no person that has problems, only an idea. Only the idea that I am someone and something is happening to me, I am something seperate and need saving. There isn’t actually a seperate self, the seperate self is the activity that you as knowing are, when you become involved with the content and forget your true nature. And what’s truly the main takeaway from this is that, even when it seems like you’ve lost it and now you have to restart and understand it all over again, you as knowing haven’t gone anywhere, your the one pretending to be something lost, and not on purpose, but because you involve yourself too heavily in the appearances without recognizing where they originate from.

From what we know so far, I hope in some way you’re able to recognize that there is no one doing manifestations and having success stories. You ARE the manifestation and it will NEVER be any other way, whether we recognize it or not, that’s the beauty. So no matter if we go on about this appearance of life and say we don’t get it and move on, you as conciousness will continue to play the roles, because there is no off switch to this.

I’m hope this has been able to start untying the blinds over your “eyes” and you’re starting to somewhat understand the truth of what you/we are. This is only the beginning and it’s only going to get more incredible and beautiful from here. But for now I’m shleeepy hehehe, I’ll talk to you soon, never ever give up on your dreams!!!! 🫶❤️❤️

[alexa-fika]

Whatever you do is going to be good anyway

But the scenario am picturing is in Marineford

Winged Reader is with Mihawk and he's hiding but during the chaos he finds himself hiding in the Whitebeards ship

And when they save Ace the escape with Mihawk's son And they try to help him go back to Mihawk

But if you want to change anything that's okay

🐼💕~

Enemies yesterday, Babysitters today ( Whitebeard pirates x male!oDracule!child!reader)

A/N: Okay yall I honestly might revisit this later and add more wholesomeness to it cause im not completely content with the level it has right now, but you tell me does it make you kick your feet?

Dividers by @/saradika

“Gurararara Ace, how are you feeling?”

"Doing good pops, still mad my jolly Roger got erased,” he grumbles

“We can do the tattoo Again; just be glad you are only missing that and not your life; you were almost a goner there.” Marco sighs

“Fair enough, still stings when I look in the mirror, though,” he mumbles

A crash sounds across the ship as what sounds like boxes and a scream echo from the storage room of the Moby Dick

“We might have a stowaway…” Marco notes

“Is it one of the bastards from Marineford?” Jozu growls, activating his devil fruit

“Be Careful, Jozu, we do not know who we are dealing with here,” Izou says, pulling out his guns

“Don’t even think about it, Sir; you are still healing,” One of the nurses comments, looking towards Whitebeard, who grunts in response

“We’ll handle it, pops; I don’t mind a little exercise; I’m bored, and if it is one of the bastards, I need to let out some steam,” he says, walking towards the storage room; the rest of the commanders, following behind him

“Whoever they are, they should be able to hold their own if they managed to make it on board,” Thatch says, his eyes lighting up with a twinkle.

“I wonder what they would be doing in the storage, though…”

“It’s probably a marine stowaway; probably best to show him some rough treatment,” Vista says as he smirks, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“Come on out.” He calls our

Ace kicks the door open.

“Alright, whoever you are, speak now or forever hold your peace,” Ace says, grinning

“If they don’t answer, then we’ll have to find them ourselves,” Marco says as he begins to activate his power

Ace walks ahead and peeks into the corner where the commotion could be heard from, and he stills, making gestures to their fellow commanders to lower their weapons as he kneels down

“Ace, be careful; a wounded man is still a threat, especially the ones trying to hide,” Marco states as walking next to the second commander

“Don’t lower your…guard.” he stops glancing at their stowaway

“Pop’s is going to love this one,” he mutters, turning back to the rest of the commanders

“It’s a kid”

“What, is this someone’s kid? A stray?” Izou questions, looking down at the stowaway

Reader glances between all the men staring him down, inching back and trying to make himself smaller, covering himself with his wings

“Kid, what brings you here ?” Ace says with a soft voice,

“How were you able to get on board? How long have you been hiding for?” Ace says as he sits on his knees to meet the kid's height, looking at him directly in his eyes

Reader glances at Ace for a second but lowers his face and tries to dig himself deeper into his caccoon between his wings

“He's scared, a very brave kid, that one, I would be too if I was in this situation.” He says, smiling kindly at the stowaway,

“Hey, it's ok, you're safe now.”

“Wait.. you’re, you're the kid that was with Hawkeye when we were dueling,” Vista states, taking a closer look at the winged child

Reader looks up at that

“You know, Dad?” He mumbles

“Oh yes, yes, we know who he is,” Vista answers as he gets on his knees beside Ace.

“What are you doing on this ship, kid? You know this isn’t the type of lifestyle for someone as young as you?”

He unfurls himself from His wings slightly

“I -I left the raft. Dad told me to stay on the raft no matter what, but I thought he was going to get hurt, and then Uncle Shanks came, and I got scared they were going to fight again,” he rambles on

“I think we finally have the story here. That sounds like an adventurous kid,” Ace says, rubbing his brow in thinking

“A bit brave and reckless, too,” he adds on

“He’s definitely got a good head on his shoulders,” Izou says approvingly of the boy

“Okay, you ended up on the battlefield because you got scared for your father, but how did you end up here in the Moby Dick.” Inquires Marco, looking down at him

“Everything was confusing; there was so much going on, so umm, I kinda ended up here..”

“Aww, Kid, we’ve all been through times like that; I’m sure your father will be grateful you at least took the initiative to get to him,” Thatch says with a smile.

“But, you can’t just board a pirate’s ship and expect them to be kind; you might not be as lucky next time,” he says, kneeling down in front of him

Marco sighs

“let’s bring him out to Pops; we’ll talk about what we’ll do from there.”

“Yes, I think that’s enough questions for now; I don’t think this kid needs a full-on interrogation just yet,” Vista adds.

Reader gets up hesitantly and approaches Vista, stretching his up, opening and closing his hands

Vista chuckles, lifting the child and putting him on his hip

“Are you really Hawkeyes kid?”

He nods

“Are you friends with Dad?”

“Not exactly…I mean, we know each other and have fought before…” Vista trails off, slightly unsure of what he wants to say

“There’s…mutual respect between us, but we have found ourselves on opposite sides on the battlefield.” he says, mulling over his words, trying to define their relationship best not to alarm the small child.”

“Regardless, we will help you return to your father; do not worry.” Ace states

“What are your names?”

“I am Vista of the Flower Swords”

He gestures at the group

Portgas D. Ace.”

“Jozu of the Diamond”

“Marco the Phoenix”

“Thatch, Head of the Ships Cooks

Flintlock Pistols Izou.”

“Geez, Vista, No need to be so formal.” Thatch sighs

Reader smiles, his wings flapping happily behind him

“Im Dracule Reader, umm Reader from Papa!”

“Reader? What an interesting name for a little boy.” Izou says with a slight chuckle

“This is Pops, Whitebeard, the captain of this ship,” Vista says, walking in front of said man

Reader awes at the man fluttering out of Vista’s hold and up to Whitebeard

“You’re big! You’re bigger than the humandrills at home!” He says, circling around him

“I was wondering who was making that ruckus; what brings this brat here,” he says, glancing at the flying boy

“He said his name was Reader, Dracule Reader,” Marco said, glancing up at both

“Dracule? What is your relation to Hawkeye?”

“That’s Papa!”

“Hawkeye is your father?” He says, looking over to Marco, who nods

“Vista confirmed it; he saw this one lingering around the battlefield close to Hawkeye.”

“That is correct, pops; the little one is Hawkeye's son,” he says proudly, pointing at Reader

“We found him hiding in the storage room.” Marco clarified

“He said he followed his father into the battlefield but lost him in the heat of the battle,” Vista says, explaining the circumstances as to how Reader found his way to Whitebeard's crew

“I see, in that case, Bring me a Den Den Moshi,” Whitebeard says to one of the nurses next to him

“We’ll get into contact with your father.”

“You’ll help me get back? But Mister Vista of the Flower swords said you were fighting with Dad.”

“Yes, your father and we are on opposite sides; however, your father was just following orders from the Marines, and regardless if he was an enemy or not, you are not. I know the pain of losing a son,” he says, glancing at Ace

“Because I know the pain, I do not wish it upon anyone right now; this is not between enemies but between fathers. You were not involved in the fight, and as such, there is no need for you to suffer from it,” he grunts as the nurses bring him the Den-Den Mushi

Reader’s lip quivers

“Thank you!”

“You’re safe now, kid; we’re going to call your dad and let him know you’re safe; once we do, we can arrange somewhere to meet. You’re lucky you picked the right ship to stow away on, kid,” Marco says

“I’m sure your father is worried sick trying to find you. Don’t worry; we’ll make the arrangements to get you back to your dad,” Thatch says with a smile

Reader flies down to to where the commenders stood

“Thank you, Marco, the Phoenix and Thatch head of ship cooks.”

Marco chuckles at this

“Vista, this is why I said not to be so formal! Oi kid, no need for titles.” Thatch groans out

“Is Thatch head of the ships cooks not your name? But Vista of the flower swords said those were your names?”

Thatch chuckles

” You’re something else, kid; I like you.”

“Ah?” He tilts his head, confused

“I can see you are going to be quite the handful; Vista told you our names and Epithets, surnames in Ace’s case; you don’t need to call me Flintlock Pistols Izou; you can just call me Izou,” he comments, chuckling, along with the other commanders

”Izou’s right; we all have titles or epithets; you’ve got a good head on you, kid; how about you give it a try,” the chef said, gesturing to himself

“Umm, Thatch Cooks?”

“Cooks? Now I’m not sure if you’re messing with me or not,” he laughs

“Not quite that; try again, just one word,” he says while trying to hold back his laughter

“Thatch?”

“That’s right, see, not so hard you’re already learning.” he laughs and ruffles his head

He beams at the compliment and glances at Vista

“Vista?”

“Haha, that’s my name, kid,” he says.

“Well done!” he exclaims happily, picking him up once again and placing him on his shoulders

Joyous giggles escape the small boy, holding onto his head and flapping his wings occasionally to keep balance until he picks up the sound of the Den Den Mushi ringing and a familiar voice coming through

“Hawkeye,” Whitebeard calls curtly

“What do you want, Shirohige? If this concerns the recent battle, I really do not have time-

“It’s about your son; he is here.”

Mihawk falls silent for a moment

“What?”

“Your son stowed away on the Moby Dick; he said he was trying to escape the head of the battle and ended up in my ship.”

“Where are you?”

“We are approaching Sabaody Archipelago.”

“Very well. I will be there shortly.”

“We’ll be waiting for you,” he said, hanging up and glancing toward the child

“He will meet us at the next Island.”

Reader can’t help but laugh with relief, glad that they will see their father soon

Vista chuckles

“You’re in a better mood than you were when we first discovered you now, aren’t you?”

He nods

“Im gonna see Dad again!”

“You sure are; you just have to stick with us, and we’ll ensure you get to him safe and sound,” Ace exclaims

“Okay!”

Vista smiles, taking off his iconic hat and placing it over the child

They giggle as the hat envelops them, and he raises it slightly to take a small peek and be able to see

Ace smiles at the gesture, happy to see the kid smile after the traumatic ordeal he’s been through

“Glad you are in a better mood,” Ace grins, ruffling Reader’s hair

“That’s good to hear, kid; I’m happy as well,” Marco adds, giving the kid’s hat a little pat before pulling it back down to cover them

They shriek cheerfully as they are once again enveloped by the hat

“Gurararara, We’ve got ourselves a live one; didn't get that from your father, that’s for sure.” he grinned as the ship pulled up to the Archipelago; it was still dark out but slowly beginning to become morning in the distance

“Hm? Isin’t that Hawkeye over there?” Thatch comments, squinting his eyes to a small raft that slowly approached the Moby Dick

“Let’s not get too close to the raft; let him approach us,” Izou says, looking towards the raft

“He won’t try anything, not with his son here, and Im sure even someone like him can tell when he is outnumbered with all of our commanders and pops here Marco says, leaning against the railing and staring at the approaching raft

Ace approaches the railing, trying to get a better view of the raft, looking to make out the figure at the front

“It is him.”

“Dad?” The small child says, peeking out from under the hat again

“Dad!” He exclaims, taking off towards the approaching raft, ignoring the calls from the pirates as he barrels into Mihawk, hugging him tightly, tears pooling in his eyes as he apologizes repeatedly.

“I’m sorry, Dad; you told me to stay in the raft, but I thought you would get hurt, and I just caused more trouble for you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cries

Mihawk stands frozen for a second, taken back by his son’s words

“No. Your apology is unnecessary. The fault lies in me for leaving you alone. What’s important is that you are back with me now.” he says, embracing him

“Look, I require you to stay by my side from now on, okay? No more running off by yourself.” Mihawk says as the raft gradually comes closer to the Moby Dick.

He nods his head vigorously, the hat too big for his head, wobbling around at the movement

Mihawk glances up at the hat and raises an eyebrow mutely, questioning his child

“It’s Mister Vista’s”

“Is that so?” he says, glancing up at the Moby Dick, spotting said man along with the commanders and Whitebeard himself leaning against the railing, watching father and son

Whitebeard’s gaze slowly falls upon Mihawk.

“You’ve got yourself a handful there, Hawkeye. But I must say, it’s good to see someone capable of putting the past behind them; such is the innocence of childhood.”

“Indeed, it is something that I have sworn myself to protect at all cost,” he says, looking back upon his son

“We meet Again, Hawkeye,” Vista says, grinning at the swordsman

“It seems we do, Vista of the Flower Swords; you have my gratitude for taking care of my son

“It was my pleasure; he is definitely something special, though,” he says with a chuckle

“Let us finish the fight we put on hold the next time we see each other; I anxiously wait to see who will come on top; the promise of that is enough payment for me.”

“Then so it shall be; the next time we encounter, we will let our blades finish what they started,” he said, preparing to return home with his son

“Ah, wait!” He said, flying back to the Moby Dick and gently placing Vista’s hat on his head once again

“Thank you, Mister Vista, thank you, everyone; I hope I can see you again! I had fun!”

“You’ll be seeing me again someday, kid, so make sure you do all you can to get stronger,” he says, lowering the child to the ground, ruffling his hair

“You’re going to make quite a fine pirate someday,” Vista laughs, ruffling the boy’s hair. “now get on back to your father and get some rest; this was a big day for you.”

“And don’t worry, kid, all of you are always welcome on my ship; just make sure next time to board it the proper way and not as a stowaway,” Whitebeard says with a broad smile

“I couldn’t agree more. Don’t be a stranger, kid!” Ace says to the pair as he watches over the kid

“You’re lucky it was us you picked to stow away with, kid; you have nothing to worry about from us,” Marco adds, ruffling Reader’s head

Whitebeard’s gaze falls upon the two once again as they bid their farewells to the kid

Future parts with Uncle shanks? Or Maybe Whitebeard pirates babysitting?

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin