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kaylinelizabeth4004 · 8 months

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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.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #fluff #soulmate au #good omens fanfiction #good omens x reader #kind of on accident #didn’t think I cared about it until now and I still don’t but I’m proud of this fic #god it’s long please read #historical shit #Aziraphale x Crowley x reader #Aziraphale x Crowley #12k words #my sanity is gone #don’t even care that much about a reader insert with them but I’m here #so enjoy

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short-honey-badger · 4 months

Text

Peppermint Tea 16- Lavender 1

Alright, guys. I really hope you enjoy how I've gone about introducing Shanks to the reader. I'm not looking to complicate anything. I just want to have fun, and my two handsome boys deserve it.

Pairings. Reader x Shanks, Reader x Dracule Mihawk

Warnings! None. Shanks is flirty. Mihawk is only mentioned for now.

Masterlist

Shanks doesn’t expect to see an island this far out of the way of everything. It’s unnervingly close to the calm belt, and the Yonko probably would have never found it if he and his crew hadn’t been on a three-day bender after a successful raid on the last island. Maybe it was a little irresponsible of him and his crew, but sometimes he just liked to see where the Grand Line would take them. This tiny island was new, so that obviously meant that he and his crew should check it out.

Lucky Roux drops the anchor, and Shanks flashes to shore with his first and second mates. The island is on the smaller side, though a small mountain range rises in the west. The jungle is thick, and Shanks can hear all manner of wildlife within. The sands of the long beach they’ve landed on are beautiful and inviting, prompting a big grin to stretch over the redhead's face, “Get the booze, Benn. I think this will be the perfect place.”

The older man scoffs at his captain, but he has already turned around to begin shouting orders to the men. Shanks and Yasopp step further into the island, and that’s when the Yonko spots a small footpath that leads into the jungle. He nods his head to the path, and Yasopp unhooks his pistoles from his belt.

The two men follow the footpath for a while. It winds through the thick foliage until it empties out into a clearing. The sight isn’t something either man is expecting.

A cottage sits innocently in the middle of the clearing. Several sea glass wind chimes hang from the front stoop, and the tinkling melody is pleasant on his ears. Three chickens are clucking around, and even a moody-looking goat glares at them from its pen. A massive garden sits on the left side of the building, and Shanks can see smoke rising from the chimney. Yasopp gives his captain a look, only to jerk back around when they hear the door of the cottage swing open.

Shanks can hear music playing loudly from inside, a slow, bluesy tune that has his browns rising. No wonder whoever lived here had not heard the commotion he and his men made. A massive furry, grey mutt comes running out of the house, going straight after the chickens and sending the hens flying into the air. The rooster crows and chases after the dog, sending the mutt careening backward to run the other way. Last but not least, Shanks watches a young woman step out of the house.

His heart speeds up when he sees her. She is stunning, the sunlight bouncing off her hair and making her glow in the morning light. She is dressed in tight leggings and a loose but thick-looking sweater poncho, and Shanks wonders why the young woman would want to dress that way in such warm weather. He dismisses the thought and starts walking forward, a grin on his face as he opens his mouth to shout a greeting.

“Hello! We didn’t know that this island had already belonged to someone. We saw the foot trails at the beach and wanted to investigate.”

Shanks watches as you freeze in place, and his eyes widen just a tad when he sees snow flurries scatter around you. Huh, a devil fruit user all the way out here. He plasters an easy smile on his face and saunters forward only to stop when he catches the glare on the young woman’s face. He raised his hand in the air to show that he meant no harm.

“We didn’t mean to frighten you! I just wanted to see if it would be okay if my crew and I could crash here for a little while. Can I come closer to introduce myself and my friend here?”

The shaggy mutt seems to answer for you as he bounds forward and slams into Shanks. He grunts and keeps his footing, bending down to pet the dog, “You sure got a friendly mutt!”

You grimace as you watch your fool of a dog run right up to the red-haired stranger. You stomp forward, annoyed at having your day ruined by some unknown captain and his crew, but at least he was being friendly. You examine the man when you get close enough, taking in his beach bum outfit and shaggy red hair. His face is scruffy with unruly facial hair, and he has three scars over his left eye. When the wind blows, his cloak opens enough that you get a peek at the empty space on his left side. The way he held himself reminded you interestingly enough of Mihawk. Maybe that’s why you decided to humor the pirate.

“His name is Hank. How um. How long would you and your crew want to stay here?” You ask him as you come to a stop a safe distance away. The last people to come to your island had been the pirates that Mihawk had taken care of, so it unnerved you to have someone else show up.

Shanks shrugs, “For as long as you tolerate us,” he says with a handsome grin. You fight down the way your cheeks heat up when he directs that look right at you. He stands and offers you his hand, “I’m Shanks, and that’s my second mate, Yasopp.”

You reach to shake his hand, and a feeling of Deja vu settles over you when he lifts your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles. Shanks winks at you, lips curling in a teasing smirk when you jerk your hand away from him. Quietly, you offer your name and give a small smile to Yasopp.

Shanks repeats your name slowly, tasting each syllable as he watches you step away. Your goat has escaped its pen and now stands at your side, beady eyes seeming to stare into his soul. You drop your hand on top of its head and scratch at where the horns grow out of its head, “Oh, this is Neal. He isn’t very fond of men, so you may want to steer clear of him.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Shanks snickers and waves Yasopp away, “Go on back to the ship. Tell the others that we are guests here.”

The dark-skinned man grinned and gave a quick salute and a goodbye to you before he loped off back through the jungle.

Now alone, Shanks shifts his weight and gives you an assessing look, “So. What’s a beautiful girl like you doing all alone on an island so close to the Calm Belt?”

You lick your lips, filing the new bit of information away for later. Dracule had yet to tell you where your island was located. You had stopped asking a long time ago for maps and topography graphs, especially after Mihawk had told you about the more dangerous places and players inside the Grand Line. You were happy on your island, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t want to know where you were.

But now that you thought about it, you were 80% sure that the man in front of you was one of the few people that Dracule had warned you about. Red Haired Shanks, Captain of the Red Force, and one of the four Emporers of the Sea.

“I live here, have my whole life,” you tell him and settle for being vague. If Dracule told you to be wary, then be wary you would be.

Shanks makes a huh sound in the back of his throat, “Really? Seems pretty lonely out here,” He comments, and you shrug as an answer, “Will you show me around? You’ve got a lovely home.”

You can’t help but burn in pride at his comment. You are very fond of your home and all the work you’ve put into it, so you don’t think twice when you nod and begin to lead the captain to your home. Shanks follows with a smug grin, eyes flickering over your shapely legs as he follows you.

You don’t take him inside yet. Instead, you point out the gardens and flower beds that line your home and show him the view from the cliff behind the cottage. Neal had thankfully wandered back into his pen, but Hank seemed to have taken a liking to Shanks, for the big lug had yet to leave the pirate's side. You shoot him a look. Traitor.

Surprisingly, the redhead makes good conversation after getting over the awkwardness of the sudden visitation, and you find yourself relaxing in his presence. He seemed genuine in his goodwill and cheer, and his lax behavior had you smiling and inviting him inside.

“Would you like some tea?” You ask after a moment of comfortable silence. Shanks easily agrees, and you lead him inside your home. Neal bleats and tries to bite Shanks when he passes the pen, and the redhead shoots the goat a glare.

You snicker at the sight and go about the kitchen to make your guest some tea. You avoid the peppermint, which is meant specifically for Mihawk, and instead settle on a strong lavender tea. You mix in sugar for both mugs and then hand it off to Shanks.

Shanks sips, humming at the taste and finding it not bad. He wasn’t usually a tea person, but he could be polite. He looks around your home, taking in the hanging herbs and the strings of peppers that crisscross by your windows. Your home looks straight out of a storybook, and the homey atmosphere has him sighing deeply, shoulders loose and relaxed. Shanks doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this in someone else’s presence. He takes another sip of the sweet-tasting drink and casts his eyes to the opening of the living room, and his gaze promptly zeros in on a familiar-looking coat.

It's a long coat, dark and made out of fine leather with intricate patterns sewn into the arms and along the sides. The inside is a deep dead, and Shanks knows in that instant that this is the young woman that his friend had spoken of all those months ago. No, he corrects, it’s been close to a year since the last time the two men had spoken. Two emotions war inside of him at once. Elation that this is the woman who had caught Mihawk's attention and pure green envy that the other man had found you first.

Shanks keeps his face clear of anything that might give him away and then knocks back his tea, placing it in the sink to be washed at a later time. You eye his sudden movements, and Shanks responds with an easy grin and a hand extended out to you. The pirate wouldn’t dare try and steal you away from his friend, but there was nothing wrong with the two of you getting to know one another in his eyes.

“Come meet my crew?” The redhead offers quietly. There is pressure in the air as if taking Shanks’ hand would open a new chapter in your life. You debate for a long time, looking up and catching his dark gaze. His eyes are like melted chocolate, so soft and inviting, and so much different from the only other man you know.

What would Mihawk think of you out there on the beach, mingling with a dangerous pirate crew? You knew who this man was and knew some of the rumors about him from Mihawk and Perona. But then you think, harder, and know that Dracule would never begrudge you having fun. He actively encouraged it whenever you became playful, though it was usually Perona that he would send after you.

You lick your lips and make a decision, reaching out to take Shanks’ hand.

“Okay. Just for a bit, though.”

Shanks grins like a hyena and wraps his fingers tight around your hand, “Sure thing, baby. Let’s go.”

The pirate captain tugs you out of your kitchen and then out of your home entirely, leading you down the path and to the beach so quickly that you don’t have the time to examine the new pet name or how it makes you feel. The redhead leads you to where his crew has already laid out cases of booze and food. Shanks grins at you and tugs you close, flurries exploding around the two of you when you fall into his side. He enjoys the wide-eyed look that you shoot him and then turns you towards his crew.

“Guys,” Shanks announces and winks, sending your cheeks up in flames, “this is,_, our host!”

@writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar

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charliesgoodboy · 8 months

Text

♠︎tom kaulitz(2007-2008) x male reader(nsfw)

♠︎genre: smut/song based

♠︎song line: "if she can't handle that then i'll let her suck my dick, and her man is coming back so you better make it quick."

♠︎warning(s): domtop tom kaulitz, gagging, slight cum swallowing, tom is a little rough(but thats only because wait nvm im spoiling), blow jobs, cheating, tom does not like gf, and the gf probably does not like tom, OH tom is amazing at aftercare(i might just..)

♠︎a/n: YEA U KNOW WHO U R U PIECE OF SHIT YOUR GFS ALWAYS SUCKIN ON MY DICK LIKE A SLIM JIM STICK

this wasn't right and you knew it, you had a girlfriend who was in your own band! you loved her dearly yet sometimes others could be tempting. sometimes, others could fill in the hole that had never been filled.

which was tom kaulitz himself, it was all supposed to be a one night thing like toms usual hits, but to call you 'different' is an understanding. "no one has to know..not even that woman of yours." he was so persuasive, made you believe it would really just be once.

the both of you thought wrong, "just once." bullshit. yet here, for at least the fifteenth time you were put on your knees in front of him, his fingers curled into your hair keeping you almost to the base of his pelvis, making it difficult for you to breathe.

you had told him that you were still sore from about a week ago, apparently he was fucking his anger out on you but fuck the aftercare was almost everything you could ask for.

"through your nose," he moaned out, you were trying but god you barely could. at times you'd try to move your head back so you could breathe a little more, and taste him a little better.

his hips thrusted foward a little, the back of your throat feeling all the more cramped as you tapped his thigh, signalling he needed to let you go for a moment. "aw..but i'm almost there." he teased smirking down at you, the bastard. "fine,"

he gave in letting you go, more so pulling your head back on his own his fingers still tangled with your hair. "go on, take your breathes." he wasn't done with you, when he said he was almost there he meant it.

unfortunately, your girlfriend texted you. the front of your phone had her message sent, saying she'd be on her way back soon. well shit, this just made tom all the more excited.

"look," he laughed, moving his hand from your hair to your chin to make you look at him open the message, showing it to you. "your little girlfriends coming back." you tried to grab for your phone back exclaiming,

"tom! we have to stop this is–" he tossed your phone somewhere else, making you cringe hearing a small crack. "ah ah, i'm not finished yet remember?" he usually liked finishing what he started.

"back down," he watched as you went back down on your knees, a satisfied look on his face. "think," he forcefully put you back down on his length, enjoying the muffled yelp you let out your hands moving to his thighs again, squeezing them.

"she couldn't satisfy you like this huh?" he was right, and you knew it. to him, your girlfriend was just some chic you fake liked eating out, he knew you liked this better.

it was written all over your face even the first time. tom was the one controlling your pace, but still making sure you watched your teeth. spit had wallowed up at the back of your throat, having it spill at the side of your lips coating his dick as well. "yeah..i know."

he bit his lip, slipping his lip ring in and out as he was getting back to the moment before, cumming down your throat. but be had wanted to see something, it would be fine. he pulled you back off again, his head leaning back as he let out a loud groan finishing his load all over your face.

he looked back, loving the way he saw you swallow the bit in your mouth as the rest had been splattered across your features. the way some stuck to your eyelash making you half close that eye.

how the thick white liquid coated your cheeks as well, it almost felt as good as the other times. "fuck.." he mumbled still staring at you till your phone rang. again, you tried to get up and get it but tough luck for you.

"she can wait."

that poor girl yo💀 im sooo mf tired but ion wanna sleep😪 if there are any typos nu uh no there are not @gaybitchfx @tokio-motel @secretivemessenger @reallyromealone @lostsomewhereinthegarden @esthxio @vyloy @bloodyfennec @kitsune-yuhhh

#male reader #x male reader #male y/n #male reader insert #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz x male reader #tom kaulitz x y/n #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x male reader

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queen-of-deans-booty · 17 days

Text

Worth The Wait: Part One

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey so every one know that Jensen like Batman, so i have this ideas where the reader is Jensen wife and popular actress who is casted to play Cat woman with Robert Pattinson or other one and the reader never tell Jensen because she want to be a surprise or something like that and she bring him to the premiere where was the Batmobile and him was just fanboy? Fluffy between Jensen and reader

Summary: You've been working on a movie you know Jensen will love to see, so you've managed to keep it from him until the world premiere. Now it's your chance to unveil the surprise.

Square Filled: hereditary for @spnonewordbingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: we're all gonna pretend that the movie Batman v Superman had Catwoman in it. okay? okay.

This all started when your great-grandmother got scouted to be in short films in the early 1900s. Actresses weren't a big thing back then but someone took one look at her and knew she was meant to be on the big screen, whatever that meant back then. She was known all throughout the state as a big-time actress even though all the things she was in were silent films. She had a great facial profile that really embodied everything she was thinking and feeling. She started young but that’s what people did back then. They started their professions at a young age.

When your grandmother was born in 1934, your great-grandmother was already moving on to bigger and better things. She starred in the movie It Happened One Night, The Thin Man, and MGM’s musical/romance adaptation of Cat and the Fiddle. Those were just to name a few. Your grandmother saw what she was doing and wanted to follow in her footsteps, doing everything she could do be in television, the big screen, and in theater.

She got her big break when she got cast in Treasure Island and Fantasia with Disney. She got acting gig after acting gig until she had your mother in 1954. She took a few years off to be with her family but got right back into it. Your mother had a knack for theater and did her time on Broadway more than she did in film. She starred in musicals like Applause, Fiddler on the Roof, Annie, Sweeny Todd, and Grease.

She had you in 1989, and you started singing and acting at a very young age. You got into commercials and TV shows from the get-go. Probably because you come from a line of Tony, Oscar, and Emmy winners. You tried not to let your line of succession lead you to getting good parts, but you’ve managed to get a small role in Jurrasic Park as a child, and into much bigger roles in Charlie’s Angels, Mr. & Mrs. Smith, Saw I, Avatar, The Hunger Games, and many more.

You worked your ass off to be where you are today, and you’re actually working on putting your own album out because you’re striving to be the first EGOT winner in your family. You’ve gotten one Tony Award, too-many-to-count Oscars, and two Emmy awards.

To think you were the shy theater kid who only sang in front of people if you were starring in a play at school. After graduation, you got into a good acting school even though you didn’t really need it, but you still welcomed the challenge they put you through, even starring in most of the plays there. Now you’re a thirty-five-year-old woman with awards like no other, a husband who is just incredible, and an amazing career that is nowhere close to being done.

Your husband is also an actor, a big one for Supernatural. He’s been nothing short of amazing and you’re so proud of him and his work. It sucked at the beginning of his career since you two barely saw each other but the longer you did this, the more you settled into your own groove. You got to take the time off to be with each other a lot more.

You get to go to conventions with him and he gets to go to movie premieres with you. There is nothing you’d trade for this little life of yours. Speaking of movie premiers, you just got done filming your movie Batman vs Superman where you played Catwoman, but you refused to tell your husband anything about it. He is a big Batman fan, and if you were to surprise him with a Batman premier, he’d go feral. Jensen respected you enough to not go snooping when he knew you wanted this to be a surprise, and his friends respected you enough to not tell him about it.

Jenson has been bouncing in his seat since he entered the limo, and you’ve been watching with a wide smile on your face. When the limo gets to the red carpet, Jensen gasps at seeing everything Batman.

“Surprise! I’m Catwoman!”

“You got to be in a room with Batman?”

You two leave the Limo and smile at the cameras flashing in your face. Jensen doesn’t care if he looks like a little kid, he is going to be excited over anything Batman (even though you’re a tad more of a Marvel girl than DC). You’re trying to get in on one of their projects so fingers crossed! There is a section before the red carpet where people can take pictures with a real-life prop of the Batmobile.

Jensen loses his shit and rushes over with a giant smile on his face. You don’t care if a million people are watching or if it’s just you two, but you’ll always love the way he gets excited over things. He gets his picture taken with the Batmobile alone and then with you, and you pull him off to the side with a smile on your face.

“Is this a good surprise? Was it worth the wait?”

“So worth the wait. This is amazing.” Jensen leans in to kiss you but stops with a gasp. “Is that Michael Keaton?”

Jensen’s favorite Batman is Michael Keaton.

“Yeah, he showed up on set a few times. He’s a nice guy!”

“I’m nervous. Should I go up to him?”

“Yeah. He won’t bite,” you chuckle.

You escort Jensen over to Michael who is more than happy to talk to your husband. He hasn’t been this happy and excited in a while, and you’re glad to be part of it.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles fiction #jensen ackles fan fiction #jensen ackles fan fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fluff #spn #spn fic #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fluff

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ratatouillewastakendammit · 1 year

Text

Maid To Be Yours

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Summary: Maid-Sama meets Touya Todoroki because that fucker would die to see you in a maid outfit. (Part 2)

Warnings: Smut, slight public-sex, language, vaginal fingering, the title tbh, Dabi too he gets his own warning

Word Count: 2.7k

“Behind,” you muttered, slipping past the chef and into the main seating area.

The room was abuzz with soft music and the smell of nostalgia. Girls in a similar uniform to yours were presenting some steaming dish or cheerfully chatting with their customers.

Your own, a pair of teenage boys who were probably just here for a cheap look at the servers, were laughing heartily about something unimportant as you walked over.

As long as they tipped well, you didn’t really care.

With a polite smile, you passed them their checks. “Thank you so much for dining with us. Please come again!”

And with a small bow, you were gone, weaving around the tables toward the quiet sanctuary that the locker room provided.

It was fairly busy for a Wednesday night, which meant more money, but also meant more people to deal with.

The constant activity of a full house made it difficult to not become overwhelmed. And while you dealt with an overload of alarming tasks on a daily basis, it did become tiring after a while.

Your mind felt drained from the constant employment of a likable persona, your limbs heavy under the weight of fatigue from hours of carrying over-sized drinks.

Thankfully, the flow of customers had finally begun to trickle to a slow, allowing you the sweet relief of a well deserved break. The charming guise cracked as you slumped over a bench, allowing a weary sigh to slip through the fracture.

“You okay?”

“Hm?” You looked up, meeting eyes with your manager. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Just a bit tired, I guess.”

It had been quite the night, keeping you out well over two in the morning. Unfortunately, your last minute decision to take some overtime had you waking up a mere six hours later.

In hindsight, a horrible choice.

Flashing a grin, she shot you a thumbs up. “Well, you’re doing great! Thanks again for picking up all these extra shifts.”

Your manager was a kind woman, although you silently wondered whether or not the enjoyment she found in this line of work was exactly warranted. Regardless, she was lenient and in no way condescending, a trait you had seen in many of the other bosses you’d had the pleasure of working under.

She took a step into her office, pausing for a moment in thought before turning back in your direction. "Actually, I know you're about to go on break in a few minutes. Would you mind tossing the trash out real quick?"

"Sure, no problem."

"Ugh, you're amazing," She gushed. "Remind me to tell you about the new hire tomorrow, yeah?"

Another thing about your manager was that she was, for want of a better term, very communicative.

Seeing as you and the other waitresses were relatively close in age to her, she seemed to show great interest in your personal lives, which resulted in a good amount of friendly gossip among your coworkers.

This also produced some unwanted questions and comments. She thoroughly enjoyed the standard 'you're too pretty to be single,' or a good old petition to set you up with a friend or neighbor.

Thankfully, you were quick to come up with excuses or some other lie that would quell her curiosity until it was placed upon some other unsuspecting victim.

However, you wondered what she would say if she caught wind of those hidden aspects of your life.

Of course, it wasn’t as if she would actually come close to finding out about any of them.

No one would ever guess a member of the infamous League of Villains would be working as a waitress in a maid cafe.

Being a criminal didn’t pay the bills. It gave you a place to stay, even when if that place was a small room a few floors above a musty bar, but it didn’t give much leeway financially. There were still other utilities and items that required money, hence your need to find another job.

Obviously, this hasn’t been your first choice.

Public service was not for the faint of heart, even for someone who associated with killers and other psychotic individuals on the regular. Not to mention the dress code, which had you rethinking your life choices upon inspection.

Regardless, the pay was a lot better than many deserving workers in the restaurant industry received and the hours were flexible, a necessary benefit for someone like you.

The cafe was also fairly far away from both the League’s hideout and your own living area, giving you peace of mind that no one would ever find out about your embarrassing side-gig.

Another thing you had come to find about workers as a criminal was that a lot of your colleagues were assholes. This wasn't surprising, seeing as they killed people on the regular, but it definitely gave you ample reason to keep your personal life private, even if a particular blonde teenager vehemently voiced her disapproval of your attempted reservedness.

That was a can of beans you had no intentions of opening.

You tied the top of the trash bag, hauling it over your shoulder and nudging the back door open with your knee. It opened into an alleyway, secluded from the busy streets and surprisingly clean.

The dumpster lifted open with a creak. It threatened to fall closed, but you propped it up with the bottom of your palm, slipping the bag through and taking a quiet exhale of victory.

"No fucking way."

Tensing at the unforeseen voice, you spun around with your hands up and ready for any trouble. Your heart slowed slightly upon recognizing the familiar face, only to pick up a moment later in panic.

Out of everyone in the League, Dabi was most definitely the last person you wanted finding out about this. His cocky attitude and overall lack of empathy for those around him had you extra weary about what you let slide concerning your personal life.

The fact that you had taken a slight attraction to the man also might have been of influence.

Exactly why, you weren't sure, especially since he had seemed to have recently found entertainment in the pastime of getting under your skin.

Maybe you were just a masochist.

You fumbled in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up, but the damage had already been done.

His surprised expression brightened considerably as he watched a plethora of emotions wash over you in sick glee. "So, this is your other job?"

"What are you doing here?" You avoided his question, tugging on the ruffles of your skirt and internally cringing when the fabric barely covered the highest part of your thigh.

Crossing his arms, Dabi leaned back on the brick. "There was a situation on fifth. The police should be here in twenty minutes, so I would watch out for that."

You sighed in annoyance, but the cops were honestly the least of your worries right now. "Shouldn't you... ya know, get out of here then?"

"Eh, later. I'm enjoying this." He shrugged, almost like an arrest paled in comparison to his new discovery.

Dabi pushed off the wall and began walking over to you. With every step forward, you took one back, avoiding his advance until your own shoulders hit the building behind you.

Turquoise eyes unabashedly scanned your frame and you unintentionally shifted under the strength of his gaze. He must have noticed, a tip of smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "Who knew you were so cute?"

Blinking back in surprise, you shot him a glare that only made him laugh. "Don't call me that."

"Aww, is someone getting shy?"

"Pissed off, maybe," you muttered, trying to push past him and back inside the cafe, any place where you could sit and steep in your embarrassment alone.

Unfortunately, Dabi wasn't having it. He slipped an arm around yours, pulling you back around to face him.

"Oh, come on, doll." He tapped your nose with his finger, having it smacked away a moment later. "I think flustered is a great look on you. Do a little twirl for me, yeah?"

"I will kick your teeth out."

He gasped, the sound brimming in false hurt. "So harsh. Didn't you take this job for a chance to be nice to people? But if it was for the dress, I wouldn't judge either."

You rolled your eyes. "Obviously not, asshole. Shigaraki doesn't pay my bills."

"You know I have money, right?"

"And you'd be so generous to share?" You scoffed.

"In that little number," he cocked his head, a wicked grin flashing over his expression. "I'm sure we could work something out."

Heat bloomed up your neck at his insinuation, another insult getting caught in your throat.

Raising a hand to your temple, you let out an exasperated sigh in a meager attempt to regain your verbal footing. You had just about calmed down when you heard the shutter of a camera.

Your eyes shot up, heart dropping when you saw the phone in his hand pointing in your direction. "What are you doing?"

"Insurance policy." He inspected the photo for a moment. "There's no way anyone's gonna believe this without something some sort of proof."

"Dabi."

"Yeah, sweetheart?" His eyes flashed up to yours, faux innocence washing over his features at the anger evident in yours. "Oh, did you want this?"

Your fingernails bit into the palms of your hands, leaving tiny crescents behind that were evident of your vexation.

He loomed over you, eyes gleaming in sinful amusement. "You're gonna have to ask nicely then."

"Fuck you."

"Darn. Ya know, that's not the answer I was looking for." He swiveled on his heels, giving you an unbothered wave with his free arm. "See you later, doll."

You lunged forward, but he was quicker, not to mention taller.

With a surprising reaction time, he dodged your advance, lifting the phone until it was suspended just a few feet above your head. Every time you made a grab for it, he would straighten up just a few inches, making sure that the device was always centimeters from your grasp.

"Just give it!"

Dabi took hold of your elbow and pulled. You fell forward with a yelp, surprised at how easily he maneuvered your body against the wall. With your back pushing into the brick and his arms caging you in on both sides, there was nothing to do but succumb to his hold.

"You're telling me what to do?" The laugh he let out shot heat straight between your legs. "Sorry, doll, but I don't think you're not the one supposed to be giving orders here."

It was almost alarming how easily he was able to over power you, even more so how you barely even minded. Every suggestive sentence permeated your train of thought, thwarting any attempts you might have once had at preserving your pride.

His hands snaked down to your waist as he leaned forward, breath tickling the tip of your ear. "Now, I wanna hear it in that pretty, little customer service voice how much you want to keep this between us."

The movement sent a shiver down your spine. It was obvious that Dabi was an intimidating individual, but never like this. His presence was overpowering, the mocking tone of his voice a mere whisper of the intensity within his sharp features.

"Please keep this between us," you muttered, trying to push as much audible annoyance into the sentence as possible.

With a satisfied hum, he drew back and turned his phone off before slipping it in his pocket. "See how easy that was?"

"But you didn't delete it," you protested.

"Relax, sweetheart, I'm not gonna show anyone." His gaze raked over your form, a smug grin pulling at the corners of his lips. "I'm the only one who gets to see you looking like that."

The hand still holding your hips began to trail lower, gently grasping the top of your thighs.

Your eyes widened at the feeling. "What are you doing?"

Cerulean irises flashed up to yours as his movements came to an abrupt halt. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," you breathed, far too quickly for your liking.

A smirk cracked over his features. "That's what I thought."

And his lips crashed against yours, hands moving to cup your face in a gentle ardor you didn't know he possessed.

He lifted his knee, nudging it between your thighs and drawing a sigh from you. He took advantage of your surprise, slipping his tongue forward to meet yours.

The kiss turned desperate. It trailed down toward your jaw and right above your neckline, creating marks that you could only hope to be able to hide.

Lust began to cloud your senses, fogging over your mind until rational thought became unnoticed. You unconsciously began to roll your hips over his thigh, desperate for friction in whatever form possible.

With squeeze he gave your ass, and the way he grinned into your neck, it was evident that he noticed.

"Do you know how long I've thought about you like this?" His voice was coarse against your neck.

"In a maid outfit?" You breathed, earning a short laugh.

"Desperate for me to fuck you stupid, but that's good too."

Dabi sneaked a hand under your skirt, nudging the fabric of your underwear to the side. He ran a finger across your slit, examining the wetness that followed it with pure satisfaction. "Shit, I've barely even done anything yet."

Your body stiffened as his thumb brushed over your clit, slowing rolling over the nub until your hips followed each rotation.

Satisfaction flashed in his features at the way your body reacted to his touch. “That's right. Show me how needy you are for me."

“Plea-” the rest of the word fizzled into a sigh as he pushed a finger into you.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can do better than that.” The encouraging statement reeked of mocking amusement. His hand curled into you, eyes brightening with every gasp and whine he pulled from you.

You grabbed onto his shoulder, legs weakening into jelly. "Fuck, Dabi, please!"

"There you go, doll." He slipped another finger inside and a moan slipped past your lips. The pace of each push increased steadily, following the wordless pleas that you gave.

Pleasure coursed through you with each one, his thumb still trained over your oversensitive clit. Your surroundings faded away into a mindless afterthought in the midst of euphoria.

It was only a few minutes before you were melting in his arms, falling apart in a mess of ecstasy.

“So pretty.” He muttered, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen askew behind your ear.

The world was quiet, bathed in a gentle glow that the setting sun provided. Shadows grew within the corners, a physical hint to the ever passing time.

Still, you could've stayed there forever, resting in the bright cerulean that admired your shaking form like it was a work of art.

Of course, it would have been surprising if you were granted that luxury.

Sirens sounded in the distance, a sound that you were more than familiar with, but one that had never been as unwanted as it was now.

Dabi seemed to share a similar sentiment.

“You've got to be kidding,” he groaned, drawing back and taking a look down the alleyway. Annoyance flashed over his expression, taking the place of worry that any rationally thinking individual would experience.

You cleared your throat. "Uh, you should probably get going then."

His gaze turned back to meet yours, softening a bit under the fading sun. Regardless, that shit-eating had returned, much to your dismay.

"How sweet of you to worry," He teased, earning an eye roll. Coming forward once more, he brought his lips to yours again before moving to leave. “See you later, doll. I'll make sure to fuck you properly then.”

You could only imagine what a mess you looked like, breathless and slumped against a wall behind your cafe. The brick supported your body as you saw Dabi's come to a pause, like a passing train of thought had overtaken his path.

Face still warm from his lewd comment, you watched him turn slightly, voice echoing off your surroundings in one final statement.

“Make sure to bring the outfit.”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #dabi #touya todoroki #dabi smut #touya x reader #bhna smut #bhna #mha #mha smut #mha x reader #mha x you #bhna imagine #mha imagines #bhna x reader

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explosionkatsu · 1 year

Text

"Age doesn't matter" 4

Dad!Bakugou x F!Babysitter!Teacher!Reader

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

After his shift, Eijirou headed towards his office and changed into his casual attire. It's an uneventful shift which Eijirou was glad about since it meant no one got hurt. But he couldn't stop thinking about Katsuki and his well-being.

Being a hero means helping as much as you can even if it costs you to offer up your life. So if it takes him eternally to find the person who caused this misery to his friend, he will.

Thinking about this made Eijirou's blood boil. It makes him think back to the day Katsuki introduced her to them. At first, he thought she was a fine woman who doesn't care about Katsuki's status, and wealth. But as the day goes by, he started noticing the changes in his friend. It even got to the point that Katsuki had to miss work just for him to buy her desires. Materialistic desires.

How dare she manipulate his best friend.

How dare she steal his wealth.

How dare she fool around while Katsuki's working his ass off.

How dare she leave him and their child behind.

Thinking about this made Eijirou desperate and arrest her right away. But that isn't logical thinking. He knew he needed to know her side first. He needed to know why she does that.

After Eijirou wrapped up, he put his suit where the agency will cleanse it. He bid everyone goodbye with a smile before departing the building. His smile suddenly slips as he fishes his phone from his pocket. Grasping it firmly, he doubled taps the screen seeing his phone lit up. His finger dances on the screen as he dials a familiar number before placing the phone near his ear and waiting for the other line to answer.

"Hello?"

"Ah hey! How are you doing?" Eijirou smiled as he began walking.

"Kirishima. I didn't expect you to call.”

"Haha, yeah. Today's uneventful so my shift ended quite early." Eijirou said scratching his head.

"So, what's up?"

Eijirou's smile disappears again, "I'll get frankly to the topic." He said with a serious voice, "I hope you have useful news."

The person at the other line raised an eyebrow before smiling. "Ah. Yes actually. You'll be shocked."

"What is it?" Eijirou asked making him stop walking.

"She's actually still in the city."

"Okay, class. It’s already 4 pm. That's all for today. You may only leave when your parents showed up to pick you up." Ms. Y/n smiled as she started assembling her items.

One by one, the parents show up greeting her before they took their child and leave. The only one left is Kazui who's busily sketching random stuff on a piece of paper.

The fact that Kazui knew someone would pick him up but probably late made Ms. Y/n feel sad. He’s too young to experience this kind of thing. That is also why she mentioned to Mr. Bakugou that she used to be a babysitter so that she can officially take care of Kazui.

Taking a huge breath, Ms. Y/n made her way to Kazui who hasn't noticed her yet. Once she reached his side, she knelt down and tap him on his shoulder trying to get his attention which worked.

“Ms. Y/n?” Kazuo looked at her curiously as he stopped doodling.

“Will anyone pick you up?” Ms. Y/n asked. She ought to know if someone will pick him up so that she’ll know if they had to wait or she’ll take him with her.

Kazuo looked down at his paper sadly. “Papa didn't mention he’ll pick me up, not grandma.” He mumbled.

His tone of voice causes Ms. Y/n’s heart to ache. So without further ado, she gathers her things, as well as Kazui’s, and motioned him to follow her.

“Ms. Y/n, where are we going?” Kazui asked as he watches his teacher locking their classroom door.

“I’ll take you to my apartment again. But I need to message your grandparents first, or your papa to let them know you’re with me.” Ms. Y/n smiled down at Kazui who smiled at her excitedly.

“Really!? Do I get to watch you cook again?!” Kazui beamed and followed Ms. Y/n way to the teacher’s office where she has her things.

“Of course.” Ms. Y/n giggled seeing Kazui's eyes sparkling.

Once Ms. Y/n finished packing the things she needed to work on her home and messaging Kazui’s guardian, she wave to her co-teachers, telling them she’ll take her leave.

Ms. Y/n felt Kazui’s hand grasp her skirt making her look down. This must be how Kazui is to Mr. Bakugou. So she took his hand and held it giving Kazui a gentle smile.

“What do you want for dinner, dear?” Ms. Y/n asked as they both headed to the exit door.

Kazui released a humming sound as if thinking, making Ms. Y/n chuckle as she watches him.

“Can we have Hamburger Steak?” Kazui looked up at her showing his beautiful velvet eyes as he waited for her to answer.

“Mhhmm.” Ms. Y/n pretended to think, placing her pointer finger on her pouting lips. “Alright.” She smiled.

“Yay!!”

It was now 6 pm in the evening and Katsuki just finished his shift. He's glad and pissed at the same time that today was slow. No villain attacks or what so ever.

As he made his way to his agency, Katsuki took this chance to check his phone. Seeing a lot of notifications from his old mentor, his parents, and Kazui’s school. Of course, he clicked the one concerning his child.

When the message showed on his screen, he reads it carefully. Although, the content of the message made him facepalm. He forgot to inform Kazui’s teacher he’ll pick him up late. Boy, he was glad Kazui’s teacher is considerate enough to look after Kazui while he was on duty.

She’s been taking care of his child for a while now since they both got closer and she even bring his child to her apartment, waiting for someone to pick him up. He was glad someone was giving him a helping hand.

When Katsuki reached his office, he kept reminding himself to bring a gift as a thank you to Ms. Y/n for taking care of his child.

After they both went to the supermarket to get the ingredients needed for their dinner, Ms. Y/n went to the beverage area and added a small bottle of sparkling grape juice for herself and a pair of orange juice boxes for Kazui. She paid everything to the cashier and walk their way to her apartment which isn't that far from the school.

When they entered her apartment, Kazui took the bags from Ms. Y/n, helping her to place them on the counter which he could barely reach.

Ms. Y/n giggled at this and thanked Kazui before going to her bedroom and changing into comfortable clothes. After changing, she made her way to her kitchen and started preparing.

“Ms. Y/n?” Kazuo called out while he sat on the counter top where he could watch Ms. Y/n cook. But of course, away from the stove.

“Yes, sweetie?” Ms. Y/n answered while she focuses on mixing the contents needed for the burger steak.

“Are you single?”

Ms. Y/n halt her movement, blinking confusedly before turning her head to look at Kazui. “Where did this come from?”

“Well, I don't see any other pictures in here. Only your picture and a family picture right there.” Kazui said raising his hand to point where he saw the picture.

Observant. The word that came up in Ms. Y/n's mind. She knew Kazui’s smart. She witnessed how he can effortlessly solve any problem written on the blackboard. Especially when it's a situational problem. No, she didn't teach these kinds of problems to her students. But when she saw Kazui’s ability, she decided to test it out. That's where she found out about Kazui’s sharp thinking. Maybe it was because he was the child of the number 2 hero? Was he teaching his child these things? She’ll never know.

“Haha. I am single. And why are you asking this, huh?” Ms. Y/n eyes Kazui suspiciously and is playful at the same time. “Are you going to ask me out?”

Kazui’s face turns red and seeing this reaction made Ms. Y/n laugh.

“I’m kidding.” Ms. Y/n said giggling and continue preparing their dinner.

“C-can I ask you a question?” Kazui was looking at his feet when he said this.

“Go ahead, sweetie.” Ms. Y/n spoke out gently as she started shaping the burger steak.

“Can you be my mama?”

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #bnha bakugou

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thatgoblin · 3 months

Text

If I'm There

Summary: You hadn't seen or spoken to him in over a year, but now you have to track down your ex-husband over unpaid parking tickets. It was supposed to be easy, but seeing him with his new partner made it anything but.

Soulmates AU, Simon/Johnny/Reader

Warnings: so much angst, past child death, alcoholism, divorce, heavy stuff, but happy ending.

A/N: I'm not completely pleased with it, I don't feel very strong with Simon and Johnny’s characters in this, but posting anyways. It's part of a series I had written a while ago, but it works as a one shot too. Song is 'If I'm There' by Bad Omens.

“Riley! I got a job for you!”

I looked up from the paperwork I had been doing, bored out of my mind before stuffing it into the file it had come in.

“Yes! Farah, love of my life, light of my heart, tell me it’s a good one,” I said, walking over to get a look from her.

“Seems you’re on the hunt for a blast from your past,” the dark haired woman said, handing me a file. “12 unpaid parking tickets and has not shown up to court.” I opened the file, wanting to throw it away immediately, but seeing the large bounty on it, I kept it. It wasn’t often that amount was put out on people for nonviolent crimes and I wasn’t about to pass up something so easy. “Also a second one. 4 unpaid speeding tickets, 3 failure to signal tickets, and 1 ticket for having a pet off leash. . . An emu.” Farah handed me another file and the bounty was just as much.

“And a partridge in a pear tree,” I said with a snort. “Merry Christmas to me.”

“It’s April,” Farah said evenly before turning back to the computer.

“Well, it’ll feel like Christmas when I turn these two idiots in,” I said, taking their addresses to shove into my back pocket in case my first plan didn’t work. “With a nice bonus for you too.”

“Oh happy days,” Farah said dryly.

“You know, you could be a bit more cheery about life,” I said, folding the legal paperwork I needed before putting it into my jacket pocket.

“I could, but then we’d be friends and we can’t have that,” Farah said, not looking back.

“Of course, we wouldn’t want that,” I said, grabbing my phone from my desk. “Alright, I’m off. Hold down the fort and don’t set it on fire. Again.”

“I make no promises,” Farah said as I walked out the door. Walking over to my car, I pulled out my phone to dial a number I had deleted from my phone over a year ago. As I sat in the car, a little voice in the back of my head told me to ignore this job. That it was inviting chaos and discourse back into my life after I had struggled to get some sort of peace. I had to see him at some point and it was probably easier to do it this way rather than during an awkward grocery store run in. Tapping the numbers was second nature and I didn’t even hesitate on a single digit. I held the phone to my ear as I coached myself to stay cool.

“Hello?” A man’s voice came over the line. I hadn’t heard it in nearly a year, but it still sounded the same. “Hello?”

“Hey. . . It’s me,” I said, swallowing back every urge that wanted to throw the phone into the street and speed away. “I really need to talk to someone. Are you free right now?” There was a sigh then silence. I thought he’d hung up on me, but a jostling noise told me he was still there.

“Sure, where do you want to meet?” He asked, his tone flat.

“Joe’s Coffee Shop? Half an hour?” I asked. I felt a little bad about tricking him, but then again I had bills to pay and he clearly was already done with me. So I didn’t feel too bad.

“Okay, see you there,” he said before hanging up.

There are scars that'll never ever show themselves

You get when you're left alone too long in Hell

The drive to the coffee shop was short thankfully and I was able to get a good parking spot to wrangle my targets into it. Hereford had its ups and downs, but the ups were that it really wasn’t as big as everyone thought. My ex and I had lived there for most of our adult lives before we split. Going our separate ways had meant chaos and disarray at first, but then I got my current job after a few months and it was something I could throw myself into.

We stayed in this area because while it was on the west coast, it was also a close knit community of sorts. People knew each other, local places were more abundant than chains, it just felt like back home. At Joe’s, I pulled up to park on the street before getting out of my black sedan.

Joe’s Coffee Shop was a local favorite with an outdoor patio. It was April and a sunny day so there were lots of people there sunbathing while sipping on iced coffees. Going in, I ordered one myself before picking a spot outside. Lazily sipping my drink, I pulled out my phone to check the time. I was never patient and even when I was early and he was on time, it had always got on my nerves.

“Hey.”

I looked up to see him standing there with that blank look he always had. Mostly hidden by his black face mask. It was the same one I made him that had the lower half of a skull printed onto it. He always wore a balaclava with a similar print, but walking around with that got him into trouble a lot. So, I made a face mask for him. I had taken the time to learn to sew and make patterns when I was not a crafty person. Seeing him still wearing it, I was thrown off my game.

“Hey Simon,” I said, standing up. Did I hug him? Shake hands? High five? Regret was filling my stomach as he stood there. We’d divorced over a year ago and hadn’t talked to each other since, but now his stupid unpaid parking tickets brought him back into my life.

We were supposed to be soulmates. We had the marks that everyone was born with. Everyone had a soulmate, people even had more than one at a time. It was supposed to mean we were going to spend the rest of our lives together, like some magical fairy tale that adults tell children.

If you found your soulmate you would feel more deeply, be more in tune with the other, have this special bond that no one else could have with you. Simon and I had had that bond.

But then we didn’t.

Things changed and we lost the bond or it broke or something and we couldn’t hack it. So, we divorced. I covered my mark on my hand with a small black bar tattoo, but Simon didn’t. I hated that he still had it. Just three simple arrows in a row on his forearm. We were meant to be together, so say the powers that be, but we proved them wrong. Life wasn’t a fairy tale.

“Everythin’ okay?” He asked, sitting across from me, shaking me from my thoughts.

“Yeah, just. . . Got lost for a second,” I said, sitting down as well.

“Are you seein’ that counselor still?” He asked. I nodded, taking a deep breath. I wasn’t there to catch up, I was there to collect a bounty. “Good,” he said.

“The reason I called you to talk in person is that I have a question,” I said, pulling out the legal paperwork.

“About what?” Simon asked with a frown.

“12 unpaid parking tickets? You have 12 unpaid parking tickets?” I asked as I shook my head at him, holding up the warrant.

“What about them?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at the papers. “How do you know about that?”

“Because you’ve got a warrant out for your arrest,” I said. “And I’m here to take you in.”

“Jesus,” Simon groaned, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “You’re a bounty hunter now?”

“Yup. I was going to turn yours down, but the money was too good to give to someone else,” I said with a snort. Simon pinched his nose as he stayed sitting.

“This is a joke, isn’t it? It’s a really bad joke,” he said, looking at me. “Just tell me it’s a joke.”

“Not a joke,” I said, showing my badge and permit. “You never paid the tickets or showed up to court.”

“Fuck me,” Simon hissed.

“Everythin’ okay, Simon?” A Scottish brogue said.

I turned to see another man with a mohawk and the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen walk over with a pair of coffees in hand. Wait a second.

“Don’t tell me, you’re Johnny MacTavish?” I asked, looking up at him.

“Uh, I am,” the man said, frowning as he looked at me.

“Oh wow, this has got to be the luckiest break ever!” I said, laughing as I stood up.

“Simon?” Johnny said, frowning.

“Easiest job I’ve ever had,” I said, pulling out the handcuffs from my belt.

“You’re not actually goin’ to take me in,” Simon said, tilting his head to look up at me. “This is just a heads up, right?”

“Oh no. I’m for real arresting you both right now,” I said. “Unpaid parking tickets, jay walking and traffic tickets, no shows in court, and a fucking emu? This is truly an April Christmas miracle.”

“I’m still confused, Simon?” Johnny said, looking at the other man.

“Wait, how do you two know each other?” I asked, realizing they had shown up together.

“Johnny, this my ex-wife,” Simon said as he stood up. “And this is my boyfriend, Johnny.”

I did not expect to feel that pang in my chest hit so hard. Of course he moved on. Why wouldn’t he? He had been the more grounded of us after the dust settled. I had no right to feel jealous or hurt by it. If he hadn’t been in trouble then I would have had no idea anyways.

“Wait, so she’s the one-” Johnny started.

“Yes, she is the one,” Simon nodded. “Now, when you’re done havin’ a laugh, I have to go. We have plans. Can’t believe after almost a year of not talkin’ and avoidin’ each other this is how you choose to show up again.”

“Oh, uh, it was nice to meet you,” Johnny said, tentatively holding out his hand for me to take after setting his drinks down. Fuck this. I slapped a cuff onto Johnny who cried out in confusion as I easily turned him to get his other hand.

“I wasn’t kidding,” I grunted as I handled Johnny, directing him to my car.

“Are you fucking’ kiddin’ me right now!?” Simon snapped.

“Like I said, I have arrest warrants for both of you. You’re lucky I even told you that,” I snapped back at him. Opening the car door, I put Johnny in the back before shutting the door. Simon didn’t seem to think it was going to go far, instead choosing to get on the phone with someone.

“Yes, hello?” He said before I ripped his phone from him to hang up. “What the hell!?”

“Simon, just let me cuff you so we can get this over with and we can move on with our lives,” I said.

“What is wrong with you? Normal ex’s don’t arrest each other,” he said, as I was able to get the cuffs on him just as easily.

“Yeah, well, we’re not normal ex’s,” I said with a sigh, putting the cuffs extra tight on his wrists. “Now shut up and get in the car.” Dragging him to the other side, I pushed him in next to Johnny before getting in myself.

“Are we being kidnapped?” Johnny asked as I pulled out onto the road.

“You’ve both have warrants out for your arrest because you two dumbasses didn’t pay tickets on time or show up to court,” I said. “5 years we were together and you never learned to pay the damn tickets.”

“I was goin’ to pay them,” Simon said with a huff. “I’ve been busy.”

“Uh huh,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. Johnny seemed to just be in a constant state of confusion, but kept quiet at least. The drive to the police station was shorand usually if there was more than one to book I would have other people with me, but given that those two weren’t going to really give me trouble, I didn’t worry too much. With both of them in cuffs and compliant, I was able to get them booked easily enough.

“Hey, Riley,” the officer at the desk, Roach, called as Simon and Johnny were being taken to be processed. I paused in my get away, ready to run as far and fast as I could.

They tried to keep in the secrets that you wouldn't tell

But they just stripped you for parts you had to sell

“Yeah?” I said, walking back over. I could see Simon staring at me hard from the cubicle he was in with Johnny that was just a couple of meters away. No doubt he heard the officer call me back over, still using his last name.

“Just need you to sign a few things for us,” Roach said.

“Alright fine, but it better be quick, I got a lunch date with a Blood Mary,” I said with a huff.

“You never changed your name,” Simon said, looking at me with a frown.

“Uh… No, no I did not,” I said, keeping my eyes on the papers in front of me.

“Why didn’t you change your name?” He asked.

“Because it’s a bitch to file paperwork and I’ve already been writing it for nearly 5 years. I made it a habit,” I said, glancing at him.

“No, no, you were filin’ for divorce before you even brought it up to me. You filed everythin’ before sayin’ a word,” Simon pushed. “Why didn’t you change your name?”

“I swear to god, Simon,” I hissed, slamming the pen on the counter. The small police station should have been buzzing about with noise, but as Simon kept demanding, everything and everyone went quiet.

“Just tell me why you didn’t change your last name,” he pushed.

“Because I still love you, okay?!” I snapped, whirling to glare at him. “I still love you, but we are not good together and it’s one piece of us that I can have without trouble. So there, there’s your answer, in front of your new boyfriend, too.”

“Love,” Simon said with a sigh.

“Don’t,” I said, cutting him off. “Anything else for me to sign?” I asked, turning back to glare at Roach.

“Uh, no that’s it,” Roach said. I hadn’t meant to crumble so easily. I thought I was stronger than that, but seeing him again, with someone else. . . What was I supposed to do? We used to be so good together, but then everything happened and shit hit the fan. I couldn’t be as soft as I once was and I couldn’t let him back in. It wasn’t fair to him. Not after the shit I put him through.

“Thanks,” I said, turning on my heel. Thankfully no one called after me again, letting me get to my car and drive home in peace. Getting home, I walked in to shut the door behind me. It was barely 2pm but there I was going right for the vodka in my freezer. I’d been sober almost four months, but seeing Simon. . . I couldn’t. It was supposed to be an easy grab and go, he’d get pissed and grouchy while I hauled his ass to jail.

Then it turned into a sudden confession at the police station in front of everyone and their dog to see and hear. I hoped that was the last I’d seen of him for a while. If ever.

Well, if I'm there to catch you when you fall

You'll have a friend down in Hell after all

Pulling a glass from my cupboard, I put a handful of ice in it before filling it with the liquor. I brought the glass to my lips, but paused. On the fridge was a magnet with a purple heart on it and the name ‘Dierdre’ in cursive letters. Staring at it, I held onto the drink as that ache brought back by Simon deepened. Like a scab reopening to become infected. The burning smell of the vodka was enough to pull me from scratching that open wound. Slowly, I set the glass down. That job was a mistake and I knew it the whole time. I thought maybe the money would soften any damage done or any hurt feelings, but it hadn’t done a damn thing.

Taking a deep breath as my mind threatened to unravel any second, I reached out to grab the bottle of vodka. Unscrewing the cap, I let it drop to the counter. The feel of the icy bottle in my hand helped pull me up from the warmth of depression that was pulling me into its arms. I tipped the bottle to watch the clear liquid pour into the sink, splashing and running down the drain. When the bottle was empty, I did the same to the drink I had made.

Standing in silence, I let out a sigh before moving to my living room, leaving the empty bottle on the counter.

And if you're there to catch me when I fall

Then maybe Hell ain't so bad after all

I pulled off my boots and jacket, texting Farah that I had everything signed and turned in and that I was done for the day. Shutting my phone off, I moved to flop onto the couch after peeling off my tight jeans. My bra went flying behind me, letting me settle in the warm weather with my windows open. The apartment was modest as Simon had kept almost everything in the divorce. I didn’t want it, so I left the house and anything I didn’t readily need with him. It was for the best. I didn’t need much and it made for less stuff when I moved.

Flipping on the TV, I turned it to good ol’ golf. I could put golf on at any time and it would put me in a dreamless sleep. That was what I needed. No dreams, no thoughts, no worries or wonders. Just the comfortable void that I could exist in without overwhelming feelings of any kind. In minutes I was passed out on the couch.

Until someone pounded on my front door.

Groggily, I looked around, confused as the sun had set and I was chilly in my underwear and tank top. Another loud knock came that had me glaring at the offending door.

“I’m coming!” I yelled, going to the door. Beside it in a small side table, I hid a Glock for when unsolicited callers came to the door. It was registered and everything, but wasn’t kept completely legal considering it wasn’t locked up with the ammo separated. My previous job and being a bounty hunter didn’t exactly make for the safest of conditions and the bad guys wouldn’t wait for me to put in my combination to my safe. “Who is it?” I asked, hand on the gun hidden under the table top.

“It’s Simon.” Quiet a moment, I scrunched my face in frustration while holding back the urge to tell him to fuck off.

“What do you want?” I asked, not letting him in or taking my hand off the gun.

“I want to talk to you,” he said. I heard him shifting around, waiting for me to answer. The thought of climbing out my window crossed my mind, but he’d just follow right behind me. Sighing heavily, I took my hand from the gun before I unlocked the door to open it. “Thank. . . You,” he said, his eyes trailing down my body. “Well then.”

“I was napping,” I grumbled, stepping aside. “Besides you’ve seen more of that.” I pushed the door to shut it, but it stopped when Johnny popped in. “Excuse me?” I said, looking between the two.

“We need to talk about earlier,” Simon said as Johnny walked in. “All three of us.”

“I don’t understand,” I groaned, scrubbing my face. “Why are both of you here?”

“Do you wanna put some pants on? We can turn around,” Johnny offered. I stared at him before looking to Simon.

“Just go have a seat on the couch, Darlin’,” Simon said with a soft sigh, rubbing Johnny’s arm. My eye twitched at the gesture and nickname, but I stayed quiet.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, going to the bedroom which was technically part of the living room. It had a partition set up to kind of offer a sense of it being a different room, but I didn’t try that hard. I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and hoodie to pull on before I rejoined the two men. Johnny sat on the couch, watching some show on TV that had come on during my nap while Simon was in the kitchen, holding the empty liquor bottle.

I didn't want to believe how much you needed help

And I just left you to be all by yourself

“I thought you said you were goin’ to counselin’,” he said softly.

“I am,” I said, taking the bottle from him to put in the recycling. “It was in the freezer from almost 6 months ago. I poured it out.”

“Are you bein’ honest with me?” Simon asked, looking at me. His dark eyes looked scared, worried, unsure. It was more than he gave me earlier that day at the coffee shop.

“I am,” I said. “Promise.”

“Good,” Simon said with a nod before motioning to the couch.

“So, what was it you two wanted to talk about?” I asked, pulling over a chair from my table as Simon sat next to Johnny.

“Aren’t you curious how we found ye?” Johnny asked as I turned off the TV.

“Not really. I know how you found me,” I said. “One of two options. Either you tracked me back through my phone records or you talked to my office manager, Farah. Who honestly should know better than to give my address out, but I assumed you pestered her enough that she caved.”

“Wow, she is good Simon,” Johnny said with a smile.

“I told you,” Simon said with a chuckle. I felt a hint of heat in my cheeks. Simon told Johnny about me? About how I was good at seeing things others didn’t? “Sorry, I told him you used to be a private investigator and he thinks it’s the greatest thing.”

“I love all those detective movies where the police don’t believe the evidence, but that rogue investigator finds it all out and cracks the case!” Johnny said excitedly. It was almost annoying, but it was also sweet. I hadn’t felt excited, truly excited, like that in a long time and didn’t know if I ever could again.

“It was mostly catching people cheating on each other,” I said, rubbing my face. “Hate to break the dream for ya.”

“That’s not what Simon said,” Johnny said. It was Simon’s turn to get a bit red in the cheeks.

“Oh really? What did he say?” I asked, crossing my legs as I leaned forward.

“Not why we’re here,” Simon said, covering Johnny’s mouth with his hand.

“Then why are you here?” I asked, turning my attention to him.

“We’re here to talk about us,” Simon said, motioning between me and him.

“What’s there to talk about?” I asked, sitting back up to cross my arms over my chest. “We’re divorced. We gave it a shot and it didn’t work out.”

“No, we gave it a shot and you called it quits. I was willin’ to work it out,” Simon said with a sigh.

“Obviously you don’t want to anymore, you brought your boyfriend over,” I said, motioning to Johnny.

“Johnny, go ahead and show her,” Simon said, looking to the other.

“Show me what?” I asked. Johnny glanced from me to Simon before he pulled up his shirt and pulled his pants down a bit. On his right hip was his soulmate mark. I swallowed hard, looking at it as tears pricked my eyes. It was the same as me and Simon’s. Three small arrows. “Well, good for you, you found a soulmate after I covered my mark,” I said. “You wanted to let me know you’d moved on completely and that I shouldn’t contact you again.”

“No, that’s not it,” Simon said as Johnny sat back down.

“Then what is it, Simon?” I snapped. “What do you want? I filed for divorce, I left you, I moved away from you, and the first time I called you in nearly a year is to arrest you, so you think that means anything?”

And now I wish I had seen that you weren't doing well

But I just came back to see how hard you fell

“You said at the station that you were still in love with me,” Simon said.

“No, I said I still loved you. There’s a difference. I’m not in love with you,” I said. It was mean and cruel, but I couldn’t let him think there was a chance we’d have a happily ever after. I was too much of a mess and barely managed to keep myself going most days as a functioning adult.

“But you could be,” Johnny said. I narrowed my eyes at him, snarling almost, but he didn’t flinch. “You could fall back in love with him.”

“I. . . I am not the person I used to be, Simon,” I said, trying to swallow back tears. “I’m not the girl you fell in love with and I probably won’t ever be her again. I’m not who you want or need.”

“Maybe Johnny’s right,” Simon said, scooting closer to me. “We’re both different people, but we could fall in love again.”

“It has been over a year, Simon,” I said. “You moved on with Johnny and I moved on. What is the point of us getting back together? We’re not good together.”

“No, we were,” Simon said. “We just lost each other when we lost Dierdre.”

“Don’t,” I snapped, close to losing it. “Don’t bring her into this.”

Well, if I'm there to catch you when you fall

You'll have a friend down in Hell after all

“You shut down so hard and pushed me so far away when we lost her, Love,” Simon said, reaching out to touch my knee. I pulled away instantly like his touch burned me. I sat rigid in my seat as I refused to look at him. “We made mistakes and we fucked up. I fucked up. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me.” His voice was catching, making it hard to steel myself, to keep myself in my self appointed isolation. “It’s not your fault and I don’t blame you for anythin’. The drinkin’, the lyin’, the fights, I don’t blame you. Neither of us were in the right. I. . . I never stopped lovin’ you. Even when I met Johnny, I still loved you just as much as I did before. I still do.”

I shook my head, feeling my shell crack as tears slid down my face.

“You had a miscarriage, Love. We lost our baby girl and I thought I lost you too,” Simon choked out. We didn’t talk like this after we got home from the hospital. I had been seven months pregnant when something happened. There were sharp pains that I shouldn’t have had. Before we knew it I was in the hospital bleeding, hemorrhaging. The sac she was in didn’t develop right and it burst. By the time I was in delivery she was already gone. I barely made it out alive.

“You’re not just one event in your Simon’s life,” Johnny said suddenly, making me flinch. “A loss of a child is one of the hardest emotional pains to endure and a lot of couples do divorce afterwards because it seems like the world has come down upon you. It’s okay to feel those feelings and work through them, but it seems that you didn’t want to or didn’t have the capacity at the time to work through it with Simon. These things take time and that may be what was needed. Time.”

“Johnny was my counselor for a while,” Simon said with a soft chuckle. I looked at him, seeing the tears running down his cheeks, his mask off. It was the first time I had seen his face since before the hospital visit. “Then for obvious reasons I started seein’ a different counselor.”

And if you're there to catch me when I fall

Then maybe Hell ain't so bad after all

“The heart wants what it wants,” Johnny said with a soft smile and a shrug. “All that aside, with everything Simon has told me, I couldn’t deny him of seeing you. He loves you too much and I love him. I want us to be happy and even if that means we have separate relationships with Simon or if you just want to be friends again, I am all for it. Being married and together for so long, as well as soulmates, makes for an intense relationship, but also one you can’t just forget and burn a bridge to with something like you guys. All I ask is that you consider it and we’ll work through it together.”

“I don’t know,” I said softly. “I don’t think I’m ready or ever will be ready.”

“Love,” Simon said, reaching out to grasp my hand that had gripped my knee tightly. “We don’t have to pick up where we left off. I just. . . I need you in my life. Please.”

God, the feel of his hand around mine made me want to curl into a ball in his lap, let him rock me and hold me. It was so hard to keep myself in check.

“So, this is about making yourself feel better?” I said, trying to make a wedge between us. He needed to leave and move on with Johnny. They could be happy together, adopt, get a dog. I was too broken and missing pieces. There was no way that I could go back to him, not because he had been the cause, but because I was certain I would only hurt him again when he saw how badly I was cracked. “I told you, Simon. I am not who I was when we met, let alone when we got married. This version of me is not someone who is the loving and caring partner that is soft and a safe place to land.”

Build me up or tear me down, I will never make a sound

Build me up or tear me down

“How about a reset?” Johnny said. I looked at him confused, unsure what he was getting at. “You wipe the slate clean, you start over. That means, you start out as friends again, move on from there. I find it helps couples that feel they can’t get over certain bumps in the road to have an imaginary reset button. It’s been a year since you two have been around each other, you’re obviously in different places in your lives, and you have changed. A reset would probably be the best thing for you two if you want to be around one another again.”

“So what, we just pretend nothing happened before now?” I asked with a scoff.

“No, you definitely don’t do that,” Johnny said. “You start fresh. You acknowledge that you both have a past, but you don’t work around it. You work with it.”

“I’m on board for whatever you want,” Simon said. I took a deep breath, holding Simon’s hand without realizing it.

Run a dagger through my chest, I believe it's for the best

Build me up or tear me down

“I can’t,” I said, pulling my hand away from him. “I just can’t.” That sucking pit in my chest that had snuck up on me was gasping to get more of me.

“You don’t have to punish yourself for losing a child,” Johnny said. He had gone to his knees in front of me, making me see his face as he looked up at me. His words were spoken softly, but a force to pull me back from that place I was comfortable with. Where it was dark and lonely and it made sense to feel guilt. “You did everything you could to keep her safe and loved her so much. You were a good mum. It’s not your fault.”

All I could do was stare at him as he nodded, taking my shaky, clammy hands in his large, rough ones. I had manhandled him into cuffs earlier without hesitation, moving on instinct, and now I was in his calm, grounding grasp. “But-”

“It will never be your fault. There is no need to punish you for something that was not your doing. You deserve to be loved and have someone be there for you. This was not a failure on your part and never will be. You can let go of that weight. You’re not alone anymore and don’t have to be again.”

There are scars that'll never ever show themselves

You get when you're left alone too long in Hell

“Okay,” I choked out. “I. . . I want to try the reset thing.”

“We’ll go slow and easy,” Simon said.

“I want to start as friends, with both you and Johnny,” I said looking from Simon to Johnny.

“That’s the most I would ask for,” Johnny said, a smile on his face.

“Give me some time right now. I’ll text you later and we’ll go from there, okay?” I said, needing to remember to breathe.

They tried to keep in the secrets that you wouldn't tell

But they just stripped you for parts you had to sell

“Sounds good,” Simon said, a smile spreading across his face as well. Even though we got what we all wanted apparently, why was I the only one not smiling? Why did it feel like I wasn’t going to get what was promised? The only person dangling the carrot in front of me was myself and I knew the bitch would never let me have it if someone didn’t make her.

“I’m gonna give you two a minute, I’ll be out in the car,” Johnny said, getting up. He dropped a kiss to Simon’s head and waved to me before letting himself out.

“What?” I said, looking at Simon as he stared me down.

“Do you really want to do this? To reset?” He asked.

“If I didn’t, would I have said yes to it?” I asked, rolling my eyes, unable to keep from putting up my guards.

“No, but that doesn’t mean you’re lettin’ it all out there,” he said.

“I just. . . I don’t know. I feel like I let two strangers into my apartment to emotionally bully me into a relationship that I am terrified of,” I said with a sigh. “I don’t know how to be or to act around you anymore.”

“It’s okay,” Simon said, taking my hand in his. It was warm and rough, just like always. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll give you all the time and space you want.”

“What if I don’t want space?” I blurted out. I had shut down after Dierdre, pushed everyone away, and made myself alone. Like Johnny had figured out, I was punishing myself for my daughter’s death. I did that to myself because it felt like the right thing to do at the time, but I didn’t want it anymore. Not when Simon wanted me back, but. . .

“What do you mean?” Simon asked.

“I mean. . . I am so tired of being alone and I am so tired of pushing people away. I don’t care about the sex or kissing, I just don’t want to be alone again,” I said, managing to get it out before I broke down into sobs.

And if you're there to catch me when I fall

Then maybe Hell ain't so bad after all

Simon didn’t let go of me. Slowly, he pulled me from my chair to set me in his lap. His long arms wrapped around me, holding me tight as I sobbed against him.

It had been so long since I’d had that simple comfort that I didn’t want to let go. I didn’t want to go slow and stay home by myself. I wanted to go with Simon and Johnny and just stop being fucking alone. It was as if Simon was reading my mind as the back of my hand began to itch under my tattoo.

“Why don’t you come home with us for a while?” Simon asked. “Don’t worry about anythin’, I’ll help you pack a bag and when you feel up to it, we’ll come back.”

Build me up or tear me down, I will never make a sound

Build me up or tear me down

“Okay,” I nodded, hiccuping from crying so hard. There was no fight left in me as he continued to hold me, only taking out his phone to text Johnny. A few more minutes and I walked with him like a child holding their parents hand to their bedroom where the monsters were. We packed a basic bag before I slid on shoes then grabbed my keys, phone, and wallet. With my place locked up, Simon led me out to the car where Johnny was waiting in the driver’s seat. He didn’t say a word or make any fuss as Simon got in the back with me to hold me as we drove back to their house.

I knew Simon had sold our old house six months ago, getting another one down the street from it. It was a blessing because I would not be able to go back into that house. Brief flashes of how we had worked to make it ours, the decorations, furniture, the nursery ran through my mind. But instead of breaking down and having a drink, I nuzzled against Simon’s chest as his heavy arm kept me close.

Run a dagger through my chest, I believe it's for the best

Build me up or tear me down

Once there, I walked in holding Simon’s hand. Johnny didn’t seem surprised at all by any of it. In fact it was almost like he was expecting it. “Here’s some water and ibuprofen, you probably have a headache and are dehydrated,” he said as he handed me both items.

“Thanks,” I said, taking them.

“If you’re hungry we can order something or you’re more than welcome to lay down or even take a shower, whatever you’d like,” Johnny said as he took my bag for me. Going down the hall and straight to their room. I knew it was their room because it had a huge bed I could see from the front.

“I can sleep on the couch or the guest room,” I said, trying to back peddle from something I didn’t even realize was taking off so quickly.

“Don’t worry about,” Johnny said. “You’re probably touch starved and your soulmates haven’t been around in a year. It’ll create a tension of sorts, make you irritable, cause mood swings, depression, anxiety, general mental disarray. The best thing to do for it, if you can, is to be with your soulmates. That means you share the bed with us.”

“Us?” I said, my voice cracking.

If I'm there to catch you when you fall

You'll have a friend down in Hell after all

“Simon will sleep in the middle, don’t worry,” Johnny said as he walked to the closet to grab extra pillows and blankets.

“I think I’ve just been bamboozled,” I mumbled. That little shit knew all along that I’d end up coming home with them. He probably knew about the tickets! Knew that I was a bounty hunter! I was going to have to keep my eye on him.

“Probably,” Simon said with a chuckle. “He’s shifty like that. But, he is right. You’re probably touch starved, so you’re stayin’ in the same bed as us. Do you want to shower or anythin’?”

“I just want to lay down. My head is killing me and I’m a bit overwhelmed,” I said.

“Fair enough, keep drinkin’ the water though,” Simon said as he led me to the bedroom.

“Yes, Sir,” I said with a snort before taking a drink of the water.

“Oh, yeah, Simon is definitely, Sir,” Johnny said as he put the pillows and blankets on the bed for me. I couldn’t help but choke on my water. “Oh, too soon?”

And if you're there to catch me when I fall

Then maybe Hell ain't so bad after all

“I think she just needs to rest,” Simon said, patting me on the back.

“Okay,” Johnny said with a shrug. “Here’s a wet cloth for ye too.” He handed me one for my eyes before walking out.

“Here, you get settled,” Simon said, helping me get into the large, California King sized bed. “Need anything else?”

If I'm there to catch you when you fall

You'll have a friend down in Hell after all

“No, I think I’m good,” I said, letting him drape the wet cloth over my forehead.

“Alright. I’m gonna go take a shower then I’ll be in to lay down with you, okay?” He said.

“Okay,” I mumbled, already falling asleep. It didn’t take long for me to do just that, but I woke up later as Simon was sliding into bed. All the noises were gone from the usual household that was awake, telling me everyone was going to bed. I felt Simon lay on his back, making it easy for me to move to lay with my arm over his belly. What I didn’t expect was another arm to lay over mine. At first I wanted to pull away, but the longer I let it stay, the more it felt right.

And if you're there to catch me when I fall

Then maybe Hell ain't so bad after all

Masterlist

Taglist: @birdstoprey @sebbytheraccoon @pricescigar @alwaysshallow @sae1kie @sleepydang @lexi-zsy09 @ghostlywhiskey @ghosts-cyphera @poohkie90 @neothewitch @shadofireshinobi @sadslasher13 @0alk0msan @xaestheticalien

#john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #soapghost #soap x reader #john mactavish #johnny mactavish/reader #soap/reader/ghost

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candyskiez · 4 months

Text

I know it probably wasn't meant to be a trans allegory but GOD does Steven's time with the diamonds resonate as a trans allegory to me. Like. Everyone disregarding his name. Being forced to wear uncomfortable clothing. People regarding his name as a funny joke. Being told he's just being childish. "I just want you to be yourself!" The ripping the fucking gem out SCREAMS of it. The purity talk. And just the. God. The scene where it showed Pink, then Rose, then Steven got me so hard as a trans person because it just. Reminds me SO much of just. Trans. So much trans. Because it just reminds me of looking at the past versions of me before I figured myself out. They're still a part of me, they still made up a lot of my life, but I am not them anymore. And that's what that scene resonates to me so much as. That gem is not Pink or Rose anymore. Reminds me of that one thing that goes "my parents were right, I DID kill their son." Pink is gone, Rose is gone, Steven is neither of them Steven is MORE Steven is alive and he is not that girl, he is not that girl, he doesn't want her name or her dresses or her life or her room, this is HIS body now, this is how HE sounds, he's not pretending to be someone else. This is who he is. He is not Pink or Rose. He is Steven. She's gone.

And god the scene where he hugs pink Steven just. It reminds me so much of accepting my gender or gender euphoria or just the realization of that's what I am, I am me, I am not broken, I am whole and i am not that girl. I don't need to be that girl because it doesn't make me happy. It's okay that I'm not that girl.

And just the. I am a child. What's your excuse? And the absolute "so what?" of that. Yeah, I'm a kid. This is still me. Why do you care so much about my body? Why does me being happy upset you so much? The girl you knew is gone, and maybe she never existed. It's your fault she's gone, and now I'm left, and it's my gem. It's my body. And this is who I've ALWAYS been.

The "I've always been me" line resonates so much. "I've always been this. I just needed to figure it out." Not how being trans works for everyone, ofc, everyone's relationship with their gender is different, this is just the vibes I get from this specific thing.

I do also like to dabble in reading Rose as a trans allegory too. Because I am self indulgent shh. And that ones less "I always was this" and more so "being the person I used to be made me miserable and I hated my own body, I hated my own life. So I grew into this new body that I love, and chose a new name, and a new identity that makes me happy." Which,, am I overanalyzing. I dunno man I like hitting my favorite characters with the transgender beam.

You can also read it with the lense of "I killed that old version of me and I am a woman now. This is who I am. That person is dead." Which. Once again. Am I overanalyzing. This feels too easy to read as trans. I am probably overanalyzing.

Anyways the way gender works for different people is really interesting, I like Steven Universe, I like making my favorites stories trans allegory-ified, and I cannot be stopped. Peace ✌️

#steven universe spoilers #su spoilers #steven universe #steven quartz universe #rose quartz su #rose quartz steven universe #su rose quartz #steven universe rose quartz

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thebottomfromhell · 9 months

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my request does not have much to do with the upper moons directly, but rather with their partners. Imagine that one of the hashiras, any one of them, discovers the human partner of the upper moons and captures them to question why the reader chooses demons over humanity.

I imagine this could turn into something along the lines of "no, not the demons, just my partner" or "I don't care about humanity in general", etc, with the hashira in question feeling confused and depending on who it is, even outraged and disgusted at the idea of a human with a demon (Sanemi would be most likely the latter reaction, I believe). I know this can be a little confusing, but it's just an excuse for the reader to give the reasons why he/she chose to be with such a superior moon, even knowing what they are and what they do with human beings.

And I would like to thank you for write my previous request. You are amazing!

This is pretty nice ask, specially considering how bad most of them were to Tanjiro (I understand attacking Nezuko, but Tanjiro was only a child wanting to protect his last family member alive, to voach for his death and physically try to harm him more than strictly necesary to be able to do the job... really says a lot about moral standing).

Besides, I wanted to do something of them for a while. Let's see how this goes, and sorry for the wait.

GN Human Reader being an Uppermoon's (could be any) S/O is interrogated by the Hashira. This is before the Hashira Meeting with Tanjiro and Nezuko, but after Tomioka met them already.

Warnings: Referenced cannibalism, Mentioned torture, Use of violence, Implied sexual content, Reader losing sanity (and hating Hashira, making harsh judgements with the information they get), and Implied Hashira death (Alternate Universe, Muzan wins). I warn Hashira fans, this might be NOT for you.

You are tied up under the sun, and you can, for once, feel a grasp of the fear your beloved feels about it. Sun means pain, Sun means danger, Sun means death... As a human you were never meant to face that part of the day, you should have been afraid of the night, of the monsters and shadows lurking in the dark, there was a time you did. Then, inside the darkness, you did found fangs, eyes that shine in the dark, man-eating creatures just like the ones that you find in the folklore horror stories. The ones that you can hear people talk and lie about in taberns, showing scars and animal skeletons.

You have felt those fangs against your skin, bloodied hands, been gazed with those eyes as the only source of life in such a gentle ways. Loving, tender, sweet and kind touch. The opposite of the touch you have recieved just now, a kick in the stomach, making you relieved you haven't eating anything since you got taken here yesterdey... you would have thrown up, you swear as you cough... blood. More blood. It wasn't enough every drop you lost last night, at this point they are going to kill you. "Ara ara, Shinazugawa-san. Don't you think you are getting too far? We won't be getting any answers if you kill our prisioner." This people are crazy, you feel the violent one, Shinazugawa, grab the back of your neck and force you to look up. It hurts.

"I don't give two shits! This demon sucker wants to side them? Then we might just treat it as those monsters." Look who is talking. "I think Shinazugawa is right. We haven't reacieve any answers until now. If Kosho in one night was not able to make this freak talk, then why should we try anymore?" Says the freak who brings his snake pet to the job, job which includes torturing people, it seems. The giant one also adds his opinion. "It would probably be mercifull to end their suffering, decieved by a demon into believing they can love a human. Namu Amida Butsu."

The small woman, the doctor, found you at daylight as you were buying groceries, asked you for a private talk, saying she needed your help finding her older sister. She said that sister has been missing for a while and that she was asking people around for clues, even if they were not directly in the scene. You recognized the uniform of the slayers from the corpses your beloved tends to bring home, but you didn't think much of it. You thought that maybe she was looking for a demon in town, and you thought not answering would be more suspicious, confident that she would not rival an Uppermoon if it was about your beloved, if it was another demon you didn't know about, then you had no reason to care. You did not expect to be knocked up and wake up in a place infested with wysteria scent.

You hate it, you hate wysteria, poison, in makes you feel sick. But it also makes you feel sick. Is this why nobody has found the slayer's base? Because is surrounded by poison? It obviously doesn't harm you, but... the more you breath this cursed scent the more you know there is no hoping you will be rescued.

Now you fear for your life, you can see the Shinazugawa one raise his sword. Is this it? You didn't even get to say goodbye! There is someone waiting for you at home! You can not die here, surrpunded by enemies, your beloved forever ignorant of what happened to you... you can't leave like that, you can't! Thankfully, the young man with divided haori takes his hand before the sword can stab you... in the leg... was this all just to scare you into talking? You should not trust that. "Let me try." Says with a soft voice, finally something non-menacing since you woke up.

The spike haired man pulls his arm harshly to take it back from the other's grip. "What the hell, Tomioka?! Do you think you will be able to the something put of this mother fucker better than the rest?!" Tomioka, the gentle one, doesn't answer, just looks at Shinazugawa, unmoved by his violence, and knees in front of you, staying at your eye level. "Why?" Is the only thing he asks. "Is he an idiot or he really thinks he will be answered like that?" And just for that you are willing to talk, because this is the first one around who is actually nice with you without having to fake having human decency.

""Why" what?" You ask, because ir could be several things. "Why don't you answer?" "Why are you in a relationship with a demon?" "Why are you in this situation?" "Why do you love-" "Why is that Uppermoon different?" He frowns harder at each word, you can tell he is angry, but also trying, genuinely trying, to be understanding. He is the only one doing so right here and now, even though his mind seems more focused on something else. Maybe someone? Also the way he worded it... "different".

You know that special person, because demons might not be humans but you still believe they are people, is always different to others. That is why they are special, and that is why the bond you have with them is different to bonds you have with other. You know. But... what is different? What is so special it managed to get you in this situation?

You remember the they you met your beloved, just like today you felt you would die, but that feeling was burried with the sensation of being spellbound. You were not afraid, you were attracted, and those feelings were reciprocated. With time, which is a nothing compared with the amount of years your beloved has lived, has bringed you both close. Has given you good and bad memories, good and bad feelings, good and bad moments... you have felt happiness, frustration, empathy, sympathy, anger, sadness, pleasure, disgust, impotency, pain, LOVE... so much love you would not change any of those things. ""That Uppermoon".... is home." You can't think of other way to say it. "Is home", you have been picturing the face, the voice, the touch, the smell, even the damn taste of that special someone every second of fear and pain, thinking "I want to go home".

You hear a small squeal as everyone turns to see the woman of the pink hair and revealing clothes. She looks very shy the second she realizes all the attention is on her, covering her face with her hands, eyes close and you can see some blushing as she shakes her shoulders in uneasiness. "I'm sorry! It's just that... it's so romantic, cute and sooo heartwarming how this love is so deep to the point it's home. I never thought I would find someone with a love like this." You are... so confused right now. While she doesn't really look that threatening she was quiet the whole time until now, and to finally hear her thoughts after everything... it's so confusing. But well, confusion is better than fear.

"Huh? I think it's lame, the fact that this idiot thinks a creature like a demon can love a human. I bet those things are just into vore or something, so they date their food. Not gonna lie, as much as it's weird and disgusting, it's very unique! I think a dumb shit like this deserves such an ending! Direct karma!" Says the guy with jewlery and what the fuck?! And this people call you a freak?! You have never met a demon that has been into things... well... Douma is... whatever, you don't care. You are more than a flashy type of dinner, and you know it. "Don't project your kinks into my love-life, you sick pervert!" Ok, that was a bad idea.

You feel pain as Shinazugawa stamps your head against the floor, you can feel your nose break, making it hard to breath. "I would appreciate if you didn't speak of such obscenities. There is a child here." We all turn to the kid, almost at the corner, he doesn't seem to be paying attention... honestly, you forgot he was there, and as incredible as it sounds, you have the feeling he also forgot you are here. "I think we should not lose focus! No offense, Tomioka-san, but I don't think your question is relevant! Thos person is still intimating with a demon, an Uppermoon no less! We should have no consideration, since it's obvious this individual doesn't have it for the victim's of demon's!" Says the loud blonde, he is not screaming but still talks as if he was speaking over another loud noise. Between everything, it becomes irritating how he speaks so polite but is so decided into making your relationship as something... vile.

"OF COURSE I DON'T GIVE TWO SHITS! DON'T ACT AS IF YOU CARED FOR OTHER HUMANS BEYOND KILLING DEMONS! WHAT YOU ARE DOING TO ME ARE NOT THE ACTIONS OF SOMEONE WHO WANTS TO SAVE OTHERS!" You are also loud, and your voice is now weird from the broken nose. It hurts to breath through it, so you have to take air with your mouth between shouts. "TAKING ADVANTAGE THAT I'M WEAKER THAN YOU TO DO AS YOU PLEASE! AND YOU THINK YOU ARE BETTER THAN ME?! BETTER THAN DEMONS?!" The blonde, the Tomioka guy and the pink haired girl have the decency to flinch, the others just look annoyed by you comments. Now it's a hit in the back that you recieve, you feel the snake freak press his elbow against your spine, thankfully not breaking it, the the bones are cracking a bit and you jave some spams because of it and the pain.

Again, thankfully, the Tomioka guy grabs his wrist and to stop him from doing more harm. "Remember humans can die from things like this. Stop." You only focus on breathing for a while, everything hurts so much. Your gaze becomes dizzy as some tears form in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You are going to die here. This fucking freaks are going to kill you, whenever it's accidental or delibarate, this people are not going to let you live. "Shut up, you freak. Why are you so keen on defending them? What, you you also love a demon?" Tomioka frowns very hard at that, actually looking angry. "I don't need to love someone for not wanting others to suffer an excess of cruelty or to die. People love... and people protect those one love. But loving someone doesn't make you worse! Love make people do stupid but brave things! Why is that wrong for you?!" He even started shouting at the end, he has been so quiet before, just saying the minimun he needed to communicate and maybe even less. This seems personal.

"Tomioka-san. You must consider this person considers that demon victims are not concerning, to the point of siding them. This is nothing but a pitiful soul." There they go again, trying to decide what is right and wrong. Thryng to condemd your being a fucking human that loves someone. "I don't love everyone... People I don't know, that I have never met and never will... what does that has to do with me? Don't think you are better that me because you kill man-eating beings... if you wouldn't drop everything for your beloved ones... then you must have such a pathetic bonds with people...." you start laughing, everyone (or almost everyone) here is pathetic as a human being. They probably think that their job is enough good deed for humanity, so don't even try to actually be good for people and those around them. How else could they be such a group of disgusting-

"Oyakata-sama is here." You hear a soft voice, the child speak. Everyone kneels in front of a man who, like everyone else here, is young, but he is blind. He looks so fragile, sick, a white haired young woman needs to help him to move. This... is what Kibutsuji is looking for?! This?! This is not a threat! Just killing every damn slayer that spans should be enough, then you wouldn't be here! You can only laugh as your body hurts, tears finally falling from your eyes. Everything is so ridiculous.... damn... you are going to die. Everything is so stupid, and you will die. You will die only because you were buying groceries at daylight. You will die and you beloved will not know what happened. You will die here, because of this.

Fuck it! You will die anyway! Don't give a shit anymore! "I can't believe this is what Kibutsuji Muzan was afraid of!" You laugh and cry, laugh and cry, your head hurts, your back hurts, your face hurts, your stomach hurts, your knees hurt, your arms hurt, your heart hurts. IT ALL HURTS! You can see half of the Hashira ready to drop hands, or swords, at you, but hell! You already don't have any damn to give. You were ready to recieve another impact, any other impact, more pain but...

The sound of a biwa resonates with an echo, there is no more sun, but candle lights. You, the Hashira, "Oyakata-sama" and the woman besides him... you all are in "The Infinity Castle...." everyone else looks around, definetely more confused than you. But... What happened? How did they found you? Who found you? "Very well done, Y/N. You did much better than I expected, but you were kept around for something, after all. After all, I didn't let my cells transform you nor kill you as you taked small amounts of blood in those love-bites." The voice is familiar, even if you have only ever heard it thrice at most, there is no way of not knowing who this is. You tremble as if you were a demon in front of him, even if you are doing it more because you are emotionally exhausted, physically in a lot of pain and spiritually relieved... you are safe now. Away from the sun, under the light and comfort of the bloodied moon that you relate to home.

Everyone in your floor, the one of the humans apperently, look up to see Kibutsuji Muzan upside down in what from your perspective looks like a ceiling, but is clearly another floor. Nakime is right besides him, holding her biwa as she shifts her attention from you to the others. "I knew were you were the second you called me, I just had to send the information to Nakime and she brought you here with our guests." You can hear all the Hashira taking out their weapons, and then another note of the biwa sounds as a door appears and open behind you. As weak as you are you turn around.

Kokushibou, Douma, Akaza, Urami (that means Hantengu is inside), Sekido, Karaku, Urogi, Aizetsu, Gyokko and Gyutaro are on the other side of the door. The fact Daki is not there and that Hantengu is already divided and protected speaks in volumes. "Now that everyone is here, I think this is the perfect timing to finish our conflict with the slayers... Permanently." This one is the real one, and you can feel your beloved's anger... Game Over.

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