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fatuismooches · 1 year

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Hello!!! May i request how the habingers men act when they are drunk? How will the reader will take care of them? If you are not taking requests im very sorry you can decline my request

Imagine the Harbingers when they’re drunk.

Pierro is even more somber when drunk. It’s not like he does it on purpose, it just sort of happens. He does like to drink some wine to relax after many long days of work, but the idleness somehow always causes his mind to wander back to the old days, to before the Fatui. And he thinks. He ponders a lot and reminiscences about the past, how things could have been different. He has always been left alone with these wandering thoughts until you came along.

Don’t let the melancholic tone steer you away though. When Pierro drinks, he’s usually alone, but that’s not to say he doesn’t want you here. He’s been alone for as long as he could remember, even lonelier after the fall of his homeland. It was just natural for him to be this way. Having you there makes him unsure of what to do because he doesn’t want to make you sad, but please reassure him. Lay your head on his chest and put your hand on top of one. Tell him it’s okay, and it will always be okay, that you want to be here for the good and the bad, through everything. He’s silent, but Pierro appreciates your kindness so much more than he lets on. You don’t need to do much after that because your mere presence and warmth are more than enough for him as he strokes your hair until you fall asleep in his arms.

Dottore has a varying amount of emotions when he’s drunk. It really depends on which segment you’re talking to. The younger segments tend to get more argumentative with each other. The older ones are more mature and handle it better. With the younger segments, they’re a lot to handle, even more so when drunk. You’ve witnessed them throw stuff at each other, hurl some nasty words (about other people as well), and generally be gloomy at the end too. They can be immature and hotheaded compared to the older, calmer segments, but it’s honestly quite funny to witness. They just say the darndest things with the most humorous phrasing, sometimes gossiping about that one Harbinger who always cuts their funding. Thankfully, it doesn’t take much to placate them. The moment one of them starts to get pouty, you simply usher them into your embrace, successfully shutting him up. This has a domino effect, and soon you have a bunch of clones on your shoulders, hogging your lap, even against your legs.

Though, don’t expect the same outcome with the older clones, especially Omega and the original Zandik. Zandik has had his body modified to the point where such drinks do not have much of an effect anymore, and Omega is just… well, yeah, it takes far more than that to bother him. Zandik does not care for nutrition in general, much less alcohol, so you’ll rarely ever catch him drinking, but on the occasion you convince him to have a drink with you, he wouldn’t mind too much. It’s not as though he hates the taste. Though, a lot of it goes untouched because he tends to ramble on with his research and breakthroughs instead of drinking, so most of the time he ends up taking care of you.

Columbina gets even more clingy when drunk, if that’s even possible. While that aspect of her doesn’t change, she suddenly gains a lot more vigor. Normally she’s calm, eerily so, but it seems like the alcohol brings out a lot of laughing. The Fatui don’t know which side is scarier. She also has a very high tolerance and the recruits always watch in amazement as she downs bottle after bottle. She’s also the kind of girl who insists on refilling your drink. There’s not much you can really do than other go with her flow.

She’s very upbeat and giggly when drunk. Tugs you to your feet and twirls you around, giddily humming and swaying around with you until she dramatically falls back so you could catch her in your arms. Columbina has so much energy when inebriated that you wonder how she does it. But, always be on guard with this girl. She will stop all of a sudden, and then fall asleep and literally crash on top of you. The first time she did that you nearly had a heart attack as both of you were now on the floor, her body completely sprawled out on top of you. And she did not budge one inch. So you were stuck there until the next day when you woke up in the afternoon with her now in another weird position. But hey, there are not much people who have the opportunity to see the third Harbinger like this.

Capitano doesn’t drink very often. He sees it as unnecessary and more of a distraction from his duties than anything else. Even on the rare occasion he drinks, it’s not much to look at. The liquid just disappears behind the ever-present darkness that his helmet brings. You can’t see any blush, any smiles, any hazy eyes, nope. He has a high tolerance for quite literally anything so seeing him drunk is a tall order. If by any chance he does get drunk, which seems really impossible, Capitano gets a bit more clingy. When sober, although he does give a good amount of affection, it’s still a bit of a struggle for him. Because really, him? Of all people? Being soft? It’s still surreal to him and he’s still adjusting.

But on the rare occasion he’s tipsy, there’s a chance of him desiring such fondness, both giving and receiving. Normally, when sober, he gets a tad bit embarrassed and awkward when you shower him with love. But when he’s drunk, he’ll welcome it a lot more. Just silently though. He’ll always be a quiet man. He’ll return the favor with a strong embrace. He likes to hold you in his lap with an arm around your waist. For some reason, he likes to tilt the cup to your lips as if you can’t drink it yourself. He doesn’t really need to be taken care of, but it’s still cute nonetheless. Capitano prefers if you don’t bring up this experience. He’s honestly a bit mortified you saw him in such a disgraceful state. (You and Dottore definitely worked together to make this happen. There was no other way.) Then again, don’t get your hopes up too much. Your man is resistant to possibly every force in Teyvat.

Scaramouche doesn’t care much for alcohol. He is a puppet after all. The drink has no effects on him. And the taste doesn’t do much for him either, as he says it himself - he enjoys the taste of bitter tea far more. But, if you do manage to convince him, with all of his reluctance, he can’t deny that some sake and cherry blossom viewing is pretty nice. Although Inazuma brings up some distasteful memories for him, he can’t deny it’s beautiful. Kunikuzushi doesn’t talk about it, but he does have some warm memories regarding the drink. Sometimes, his family, his friends from all those years ago, would drink alcohol in celebration. The young puppet would watch in fascination and down all the bottles while his friends lay passed out in amazement. So really, despite all of his moaning and groaning, he won’t mind.

Even though Scaramouche doesn’t actually get drunk, you like to think he does from the way he acts around you. You have a tendency to drink more than you can handle so that you could see Scara reveal his secret affectionate side. Whining and slurring your words results in a lot of grumbling and eye-rolling from your lover, scolding you for your recklessness. But no one would ever believe you as he begrudgingly guides you to his lap, confiscating the sake cup. Rearranges his legs so you’re comfortable. Strokes your hair and brushes it away from your face, drunk on you. But then of course pinches your cheeks, earning a squeal and a few curses from you. After becoming the Wanderer, the taste is unsettlingly comforting for him. Perhaps because it was one of the things that began to connect you with him. Even if you can’t remember him anymore, he still likes to go to that same spot to enjoy some sake and the view.

Sandrone isn’t very much of a drinker. It distracts her from her work, and she’d much rather enjoy some tea and sweets too. So, it is going to be a long and arduous wait to see Sandrone drink, much less get drunk. That is until you recruit some of your favorite robots to oh, just innocently put a few drops of alcohol in her cup instead of tea. Luckily enough, she sips it without a thought. After all, there was no reason to be suspicious. She programmed these robots to obey her. The only thing is that she programmed them to listen to you too.

Please stop her from working. She’s been trying to unscrew this bolt from a robot for the last ten minutes and she still hasn’t realized she’s using the wrong screwdriver. Some Automatons may need to be enlisted for help but just get her away from that and into a chair. Sandrone huffs and puffs with a blushing face about how she’ll get revenge on you later, but you can’t really take her words seriously when she’s leaning on your shoulder so cutely. Her coat is off and her porcelain arms are intertwined with yours, her way of “punishing you.” You strive to get her tipsy more often in the future. At least she actually takes breaks that way. You’re so glad Sandrone built a Kamera into some of her creations because damn, it was really useful right now.

La Signora is a chatty drunk. She has the tolerance of a normal person, getting drunk after a good amount of refills. Many times she drinks to relieve some stress, as you have to listen to her complain about all the useless recruits and how unreliable her subordinates are most of the time. She always tells the best stories when drunk, always going into depth about how stupid this person was and how this person did that. It’s best not to interrupt or console her yet. She just wants to vent her frustrations right now.

How to take care of her? Just be a good lover by keeping her glass filled, her lap warm, and her boredom away. With all of the fuss she makes, she ends up winding down by the end of it to thoroughly enjoy your presence. Rosalyne gets very comfy during these sessions - hair flowing free from its usual bun, mask and makeup off, a silky nightgown adorning her body. She is a very tall yet soft lady, so her lap is much more suitable for sitting than any old chair would be, she tells you. Signora likes to have a firm grip on you, her hands playing with your hair as she swishes around the alcohol, her legs entangled with yours so you could not leave. Her voice tipsy and a bit slurred she’ll ask you about your day, what’s been going on, how she misses her lovely butterfly dearly. Anyone besides you would be shocked to know how sweet Rosalyne is as a partner. Experiencing love and loss changes a person more than what they show. So really, taking care of her means letting her take care of you.

Pantalone is a flirty drunk who has no problem telling you exactly what he thinks, very unfiltered. He is quite a charmer when sober, but alcohol turns up the flattery a hundred times more. A lot of times, the two of you have drinks together late into the night, after he is finally done with his paperwork and whatnot. Usually, it’s paired with an exquisite dinner. Of course, he only purchases and drinks the most expensive and delicious kinds of wine of course. Whenever he buys a new brand, he always does the same thing though, which you gladly welcome. Pantalone makes you take the first few sips, asks you how it is, and then kisses you to try for himself. You always playfully scold him but you can never be mad at that devilishly sweet smile.

Pantalone actually likes to be pampered and taken care of when he’s drunk. Brush his hair out, help him bathe and slip into his robes, tuck him under the blanket with you. More specifically, he likes when you read to him. While he can handle his liquor well enough, when he gets overly drunk, he gets quiet. You never pry into what exactly he thinks about, but after being with him for so long you can gather that he’s remembering his childhood. So, although his weight may crush you a bit, just let him lay on your chest for a while, stroke his hair while you talk, and take his glasses off once he’s asleep.

Arlecchino is a lightweight drinker. No one has ever seen her drink and it is because of that. She would rather die than have anyone witness her being drunk. She has only a few weaknesses, the most out-of-place ones being you and alcohol. Normally you wouldn’t mind, but it gets to be a bit awkward when you’re drinking and she’s just there with her cold hard coffee. Even during a relationship with you, she’s still adamant about not drinking. Arlecchino is serious about not appearing vulnerable in front of you. She doesn’t want you to think about her any differently.

She’s super observant too, so there’s not really going to be a chance of swapping her drunk. Perhaps if you beg and plead with her she could have just a cup with you. It is endearing to see her so unguarded and cute in front of you, but her lack of tolerance ends up cutting the quality time you have with her. There’s really not much you’re going to do when she’s drunk. Arlecchino tends to hiccup when drunk along with some intoxicated mumblings. Generally, she falls asleep rather quickly, so just cover her with a blanket and make sure no one enters her office. Otherwise, they’d have to die.

Childe is a happy drunk with a good amount of tolerance, so it’s a bit hard to see him actually get drunk, but it is certainly possible. He is instead the kind of person who tries to convince you to drink Fire-Water with him because he enjoys your drunk blabbering. He loves to bring up the things you said while drunk to embarrass you. While drunk he loves to chat and catch up with you, but he also tends to challenge you to drinking competitions (he has a competitive streak after all, always up for a contest) which usually ends up with you passed out and waking up the next morning to Ajax making breakfast (donning an apron if you’re lucky.) Though there have been times when you’ve been blessed to see a red-faced, drunk Ajax.

It would be funny if he was a fighty drunk. The kind of drunk who suddenly wants to spar with you out of nowhere. Wants to go to the Golden House with you but he can’t even make it halfway, literally about to make both of you fall from how much he’s clinging onto you. Though, it’s not too hard to take care of him, if you’re okay with a dozen smooches to your face and a lot of whining. He is incessant with his cuddling, arms tightly bound around you. It takes a lot of persuading to let him release you. What he would appreciate is a nice home-cooked meal at this point, especially if it's Snezhnayan. He’s the one who usually does all the cooking, so he’s actually really grateful when you make something for him. The only problem is that when he’s drunk, he wants you to feed him. After that, the only plan of action is to comply with his demands for cuddling in bed. Somehow, you still fall asleep after him because Childe refuses to slumber before you. Zhongli has dropped him at your house quite a few times so you’re used to the routine by now.

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gentlyweeps-world · 5 months

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Wine and Lies 2

summary: A dinner date turns into a heartbreak. But maybe, you could get revenge.

pairing: carlos sainz x fem! reader, charles leclerc x fem! reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, toxic relationship, cheating, sexual tension

Previously: You never imagined that Carlos, your Carlos, would do this, then lie to you. You find that her name is Rebecca. She’s a model, of course she’s a model. Why are the homewreckers always models?

Clicking onto your Instagram you find that she’s following you. Rage filled your body, along with the need to throw up.

You rush off the floor and run towards the bathroom, throwing up the appetizers and wine you had.

Your phone buzzes to life next to you, showing the caller ID of your boyfriend's teammate, and Ferrari's golden boy, a smirk spreads across your face.

If Carlos could do it, you were going to do it ten times better.

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

You swipe to accept the call, “Hey Y/n..are you alright..?” You hear Charles softly say, the tone of his voice showing he already knew Carlos had cheated.

"Y/N? You there? You alright?" he asks again having not gotten a response from you. "Yeah, sorry," you reply, sitting back down on the toilet as gently as possible. "Just a lot going on right now, I don’t know what to do."

"I know what it's like..." he says quietly, trying to be there for you though his voice still betrayed the sadness there in his voice, "I think you should probably just leave him," he says after a moment's hesitation.

“I think if I tried to, it wouldn’t work” You say truthfully, knowing you and Carlos would end up back together somehow, he would never let you leave.

“Then you should dump his ass for a better option. Like me” he says a moment of silence as if realizing what he had just said.

“I’m just kidding of course, maybe.” He sighs

Your eyes widen at his suggestion, I mean you had known Charles had a soft spot for you, and sure you found him attractive but you would have never tried anything, but now, it seemed like the perfect opportunity.

“Really?” You say teasingly, getting up from the toilet and wiping off your smudged mascara.

“If you want to leave him” he says, his tone nervous and hesitant.

“Let me take you on a date”

“A date?” You muse, fixing your mascara and applying some lip gloss. “And why should I go on a date with you?” You add on.

“Cmon you know why. I’ve always wanted to see more of you” he says, and now you can hear the smile there in his tone.

“You know Carlos is an idiot who doesn’t deserve you, I’m the best option”

“Really? And you’re sure of that?” You add on, wanting to see what else he’ll say, now touching up some of your eyeshadow.

“You name the place and I'm happy to take you” he says confidently. He knows he's a good option and he wasn't afraid to let you know it.

“Hmm well, I think I’m about to go out, I’ll send you my location soon” You say before hanging up on him.

You take your time fixing your makeup and hair, then you change into a red dress you know Carlos loves, you also know Charles would love it too.

You hear the door to your apartment slam open and shut, then footsteps lead to your bedroom, turning you see an annoyed Carlos.

“Why weren’t you at the restaurant?” He asks, his voice stern. “Because I had a much better alternative. Why did you decide to ruin us?” You say standing and looking at Carlos in anger, “I know about her, I know you slept with someone else, and I know Im better than her” you say and he looks shocked that you know.

Hearing his silence you add on, “So if you don’t mind, I’m going out”. Grabbing your purse and shoving past him.

“Where are you going?” Carlos asks angrily, grabbing your wrist and yanking you back towards him.

“It doesn’t fucking matter to you” You hiss out to him, yanking your wrist out of his grip.

“You don’t own me” You add on glaring at him. “It does matter to me” he hisses back, “ you belong to me” he says and you know just the thing to say to piss him off now.

“I belong to Charles”, you say and you immediately see a red flash in his eyes because god did he hate being compared to Charles.

“So go seek out Rebecca, I’m sure she’d love to hear you complain” You add on, opening the door to your apartment and shutting it behind you as you walk off to a nearby club.

You get a call a few minutes later, a call you know who it is from. It's Charles but before answering you decide to enjoy the power trip of letting him wonder why you aren't answering.

You arrive at the club and instantly beeline to the bar, ordering a gin tonic.

Grabbing your phone from your purse you text Charles your location with no further explanation, excited to get your revenge.

It’s not long before he arrives, the club a bit quieter than others but still pretty busy he finds you and comes over and orders himself a vodka tonic.

“Hey” he says smiling at you, as he takes a sip from his drink, his eyes wandering as he takes you in.

“Hi..” You say with a smirk, slowly checking him out as you sip at your drink.

"God, you look even better than I imagined" he says, taking another sip of his drink and getting a bit closer to you.

"I'm glad Carlos is an idiot, otherwise I might not have been able to see you tonight" he says teasingly.

“That makes two of us then..” You say softly, moving in closer to him as you place your hand on his arm, knowing that someone will probably be taking pictures, which is exactly what you want.

He feels your touch and he smirks, his eyes darting across you, imagining what he'd like to do with you, how you'd feel like in his arms, and his hands.

"Shall we get out of here?" he asks, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Let’s stay awhile, no need to rush anything..” You whisper back, drinking some of your gin tonic, needing the alcohol.

"You're right" he says, and he puts his arm around your back leaning in close. His eyes wander down your body, and you want to kiss him. You want to feel his breath on your neck, his lips on your skin.

He notices where your eyes go to and he looks back up at you, you're so close now and you smell good. He moves in slowly, his lips so close to yours.

With a smirk you pull away from him, “Let’s go dance” You say, finishing off your gin tonic you place the empty glass on the bar and leave some cash for the bartender.

You walk away from Charles, making your way to the dance floor area. It was relatively crowded and the music had gotten louder, almost to the point you couldn’t really hear anyone else.

Charles follows you closely looking at your body as he sees it sway with each move you make, the music drowning out everything else and all there is left is the sound of your breathing, and your heartbeat.

He gets close to you once again this time pressing his chest to your back, the heat between the both of you intense. His hands travel to your waist, guiding your hips against his.

You can feel his hard chest against you, his hands on your waist, a low groan leaves him as he guides your hips against his, moving in time with you, as you both move your bodies against each other.

“This is perfect,” he says softly in your ear. “It is..” You say, forgetting about Carlos, solely focused on Charles.

“How long have you wanted this?” he asks softly, his voice low, only you can hear it in the loud club.

“How long have you wanted me?” he adds, his voice sounding almost demanding.

“Tell me.”

“Months..” You whisper out, but that wasn’t the truth. You knew that this, between you and Charles, was just to get at Carlos.

But who’s to say you couldn’t have your fun with it? Charles is, after all, an attractive guy. And you had a soft spot for him. You knew you already had him wrapped around your pinky, just like Carlos. It was time for you to have your fun.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

radio 🪩: So excited to get this series started! 💙

taglist: @janeholt3 @lightdragonrayne @roseseraj

next part

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writingstoraes · 1 year

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daughter blues 🌨

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: instagram imagine/social media au

notes: not proofread hehe lmk what u guys think! first time doing a dad!charles content 🫣

about: you and charles have a bit of a hard time sending off your daughter to preschool.

ynleclerc

liked by carlossainz55, lorenzotl, lilymhe, and 604,334 others

ynleclerc today is julia's first day of pre-school! we had a hard time deciding whether she wanted braids or not 😴 here she is checking what i was baking for her because she's bringing some to school.

you grow up so fast, my baby. mommy's a little sad sending you off to school, but we know you'll do such a good job there!

lilymhe Beautiful girl ❤️ Tell her her favorite aunt misses her!

ynleclerc will do! come visit soon please 😘

carlossainz55 Uh oh how's the dad doing 🫣

yourusername worse than me, he wants to stay outside of jul's room the entire time she's there

charles16 Julia daddy's girl indeed ❤️

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen, pascale_leclerc, and 1,220,579 others

charles_leclerc Pre school is a bit uncool for taking you away from me so fast. Can't believe you're off to school now, it's as if it was just yesterday when I held you for the first time. I wanted to wait till your classes ended but your mommy said no and she also said no when you wanted to wear a ferrari shirt today 🤕

ynleclerc i am not going let my only daughter wear a ferrari shirt on her first day of pre-school, charles 🤦‍♀️

charles_leclerc How else will she know her dad is an F1 driver and will race any boy that has a crush on her?

ynleclerc you told her to tell people her dad is a racer when she introduces herself

leclercfamz Y/N and Charles giving us a glimpse of what goes on at their home is so funny 😭

pierregasly I hope you weren't the one who prepared her snacks or she's going to have a bad day

charles_leclerc You don't even know how to fry eggs

pascale_leclerc Julia my favorite girl ❤️

scuderiaferrari We wish Julia an amazing first day of pre-school! 📚

ynleclerc

liked by lilymhe, pascale_leclerc, isahernaez, and 750,234 others

ynleclerc first day of not being with our favorite little girl, but also first day of being home alone with charles since we became parents 😴

alex_albon23 Home alone with Charles? 😏

ynleclerc yeahhhh we drank wine and will be cleaning the entire house, how fun 😏

waglyfe ALEX LMAOKKOOJJQJQ

pierregasly Yeah! Go get it, parents!

charles_leclerc You are so weird mate

yukitsunoda0511 I remember when I used to be your favorite son 😥

ynleclerc im so sorry son, its your dad's fault - hes always wanted a girl

charles_leclerc just posted a story!

trans: My two treasures.

---------

tagging: @slytherheign 🩶

notes: dad!charles just makes me cry 🤕 tysm for reading! lmk what u guys think hehehe

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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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kentosbabes · 1 year

Text

Moving into your new apartment with Nanami

Nanami who asked you if you wanted to move in together as you had began spending alot of time at his place rather than your own. From then you realized you needed a bigger space so he went online and spent months looking for the perfect place.

Nanami who dragged you to every viewing and took photos of every inch of the apartments. He also brought a notepad to write down the pros and cons. After long months of looking you found the perfect place that overlooked the city.

Nanami who finalized the deal within a week and began getting ready to move. Due to his job as CEO of a publishing company money was no issue and shushed your attempts to at least pay half the rent. 'My love all my money is yours so technically you're paying as well' he says as you sit in his lap as he sips his morning coffee. 'You don't need to worry your pretty head about any of that'.

Nanami who started packing way before the moving date. He's already buying boxes and putting things in them before you've even begun going through your belongings.

Nanami who sits on your bed as you go through your draws and closet deciding what to get rid of and what to keep. Moving gave you the excuse to go through your clothes finally. 'what about this dress Kento? do you like it' you say holding the dress to your body. He looks at it intently before saying 'its short. I like it'

Nanami who helps pack up your apartment and put everything neatly in boxes. you always thought you were good with cleaning but Nanami was on a different level, neatly folding your clothes up at an unimaginable speed.

Nanami who on moving day drives you and your belonging to the apartment. You were stood at the doorway of your old place for ages, not out of sadness but excitement for the change and happiness as the memories of everything comes flooding in.

Nanami who fumbles with the key putting it into the door while his other hand wraps around your waist. 'oh Kento its beautiful isnt it' you say walking in and looking around the apartment. he hums in response pulling you into a soft kiss by your waist.

Nanami who takes a week off to help unpack everything. He never takes days off even when he's sick but he wanted to spend time with you and help with the decorating. He would be up till 1am unpacking boxes of plates and cutlery as you dance around with a glass of wine in your hand.

Nanami who really couldn't care less what color the living room wall should be but still acts interested while you blabber on. 'hmm what about this shade? it would go match with the sofa we ordered but it's also bland so may not?' you say holding a sample color to the wall. Nanami comes up behind you putting his chin on your neck 'I think this color' he says picking up a sample and placing it on the wall. 'Oh, Kento that's the shade! It's perfect' you say in excitement kissing his cheek.

Nanami who lays in bed with you curled up to his chest scrolling on his iPad through furniture. 'this would match with the rug we ordered' he says pointing to the lounge chair on the screen 'hmm its cute but it doesnt match the vibe' you say looking up at him. 'vibe? and what is the vibe?' he asks. 'well since were practically in a penthouse in thinking something timeless and luxurious, see like this' you say now pointing to a different lounge chair a cream color.

Nanami who makes sure everything is perfect to your liking. He's hiring the best decorating team and builders to make sure the place is perfect. he also make sure to pay a little extra to ensure the work doesnt take too long and you can enjoy peace and quiet soon.

Nanami who signs in relief as the last builder leaves leaving you alone in your now complete new apartment. 'ugh I love it so much' you say looking up at him. his hands find your cheeks as he puts his lips to yours. 'I love you so much' he says picking you up and taking you to your room.

Nanami who finds himself saying 'God im going to fuck a baby into you' as he thrusts into you. The now larger apartment makes him think about the future and having a family with you. 'is that what you want' he asks looking into you eyes as his fingers toy with your clit.

Nanami who groans as you nod your head 'yes, Kento f-fuck' His thrusts quicken as you reach your high with him not far behind and finishing in you. his body crashes down on you and you mumble 'Maybe we should talk about me coming off my birth control' his head lifting up and his eyes filled with excitement 'Really?' he asks

Nanami who now cant wait to come home. he always finds you in the kitchen dancing to music as you cook dinner. He places down his bag and you rush towards him wrapping your arms around his neck showering him with kisses.

masterlist

#nanami headcanons #kentosbabes #kento nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #jjk nanami #jjk headcanons #jjk smut #jujutsu nanami #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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dayslynthesix · 6 months

Text

let the games begin | charles leclerc redbull!era x horner!reader

what would happen if charles signs a contract with redbull after the disastrous season 2023 was with ferrari? would it be unfair with himself to let go of his dream or would it be a jump of faith that those dreams could became real with the competition? this one is more like a platonic relashionship between charles and isabella (i got this very bad habit that i cannot write with s/n anymore)

liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, izzyhaho, carlossainz55 and 677.876 others

f1 Charles Leclerc made his Ferrari debut in 2018, racing alongside with the 4 times champion of the world, Sebastian Vettel, now, finishing his 5th year with the Scuderia and far from the results that he wanted, he leaves the team. Charles raced 100 races with Ferrari, won 5 times, including his historical winning in Monza, 2019 and 28 poles. Very good luck, Charles.

maxverstappen1 let's hope for no more inchidents, on the race

redbullracing welcome to the team, charlie!

izzyhaho now that's what I'm talking about. hey, charles, hope you like me, because you're about to hear my voice on your ear fot the next 24 races haha

user1 ok hold on mom it's happening, charles is moving to redbull

user2 it was worth nothing to be il predestinado on a failure as a team, welcome home, leclerc

user3 now im anxious to see how ferrari will perform next year

user4 hope the santander sponsor is worthy

user5 IMAGINE CHARLES DRIVING THAT ROCKET IM ON 9TH CLOUD

charles_leclerc

liked by izzyhaho, arthur_leclerc, maxverstappen1, sebastianvettel and 988.325 others

charles_leclerc for 5 years this team and this car were my dream, i have won with ferrari and i have lost with them - many times, but i still had faith in the project, unfortunately, my dream was not enough to hold the love and the wishes i had with them. thank you all tifosi out there, for the indescribably suport and love you have showed me for the past years, it was my honour. my heart will always bleed ferrari red, but it is time to breath another air.

izzyhaho "another air" redbull air, competent team air, blue air, oversteering air, im about to faint, hold on

carlossainz55 best of luck, cabron!

landonorris well, i thought i would be the one who's gonna be max's teammate

redbullracing 💙💙

user6 you'll always be our man, Charlie

user7 i dont know if this is a dream or a nightmare

user18 nightmare was what was going on at ferrari

user8 lol it is actually happening

user9 will redbull do the multi 21 all over again or they will be free to fight?

user10 KICKING MY FEET NOW

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, izzyhaho, lewishamilton and 655.985 others

scuderiaferrari it is with a sad heart that we said goodbye to charles, it was amazing 5 years. il predestinado will forever be our maranello sun. thank you, charles. good luck on your next chapter.

charles_leclerc thank you so much!

izzyhaho your maranello sun is now our sun haha

user11 isabella is so chronically online that im dying to see her liked tweets tomorrow

user12 christian horner is right now opening his 56 thousands of dollas bootle of wine to drink a good glass of the most expensive wine ever because he got his dream driver line up

izzyhaho he is, in fact

maxverstappen1 he's been drinking a glass of wine per day since charles went for a "casual talk" with him

user13 wait, so this mean that max is not christian golden boy anymore?

maxverstappen1 you wish (im scared)

redbullracing

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, izzyhaho, arthur_leclerc and 698.655 others

redbullracing say hello to our new duo for the 2024 season, welcome home, charles, we are hoping to see you shine in navy blue. see you in march.

charles_leclerc thank you for the reception, i wasn't expecting the cake considering my birthday was a few weeks ago

maxverstappen1 why did you choose this photo, adm?

redbullracing mini boss who choose it

izzyhaho yes, i did, i thought it would be funny

user14 poor christian, if he thought his life was difficult with maxiel, now he have max, charles and his daughter around

izzyhaho oh he knows!

maxverstappen1 charles is still a little shy with the dinamics, but the prank week is on!

user15 im actually very happy with charles moving to redbull

user16 i wish i had good lawyers so i could say everything i want to say

user17 charles got a shitty car for 2 seasons and jumped the boat, never gonna be a world champion

izzyhaho at least he can drive a formula one car, something you could never 😜

user18 isabella was like "don't say shit about my new friend" and went for it

user19 so, we won on the lottery, i mean, charles is on a competitive team, have a nice car, have a nice race engineer and a team principal who looks for his best interests

user20 isabella is a race engineer?

izzyhaho noooo, im a physics student, but I'll work side by side with kai (charles engineer)

izzyhaho

liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, brazilgp, danielricciardo, landonorris and 655.918 others

izzyhaho ok, i was thinking about and ill give it a go: ask me questions about f1 and life and ill answer during my waiting time

user21 where are you going, iz?

izzyhaho I'm flying back to the uk, team meeting for the start of the season

user22 what exactly is your job at redbull?

izzyhaho i mean... almost everything? usually i stay with media duties, follow the drivers around, do the posts, stuff like that, but my thing is analyzing data and im the race engineers backup, i spend most part of the fp, qualy and race side by side with hannah

user23 who's your favorite driver?

izzyhaho jenson button, there's no other answer for it, but i really like lewis and seb

user24 where and what exactly is your degree?

izzyhaho im a physics student at the MIT, but im about to graduate early next year

maxverstappen1 what are your pets names?

izzyhaho very funny haha look how im laughing, but my dogs names are ascari, mirabel and mugham, 3 border collies

landonorris what happened in bali during the summer break?

izzyhaho you wish 🤭

user25 where do you live?

izzyhaho in boston, but after i graduate ill move back to europe, probably monaco or spain

user26 why do you spend so much time in brazil?

izzyhaho do i need a reason? lol, i like the country, the people, the culture, the food, the football... but most of it is just like, so i can feel close to senna, I've never saw him race, but my dad did, and i think he was amazing, especially as a person, so i like to feel close to the country and the people and the places who made him who he was, and i have friends there too

user27 fav sport?

izzyhaho tennis and volleyball, i love both and i have some very good friends who play booth

user28 how is like to work with your dad?

izzyhaho hey pops, do you want to answer this one? it is nice, we work along very well, we usually go for the same line of thinking when it comes to races and we have a very good relationship, and if max thinks he is my dad golden kid, he is absolutely right 😔

user29 did you never consider pursuing a driving career?

izzyhaho i did, for a while, i drove for formula 4 and formula 3 but then i realized that what i like is the theoretical part of business, but i hope to drive a f1 car at least once

user30 how is your relationship with charles?

izzyhaho 🤭🤭

user31 which are the drivers you are the closest with?

izzyhaho uhhhh... im very close with max, for obvious reasons, oscar and i are pretty friends as well, charles, zhou, lewis and george, but i got along with all of the grid

user32 what are you fav tswift songs, era and album?

izzyhaho AMAZING QUESTION! fav songs: seven, afterglow, all to well, lover and call it what you want. fav album: rep, obviously abd fav era: i love her red era

user33 expectations for the 2024 season?

izzyhaho win everything that we can possibly win

redbullracing

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, izzyhaho and 766.986 others

redbullracing it's lights out and away we go for the 2024 formula one season. 1-2 for the bulls on bahrein and a great start of the season for charles, congratulations on p2, lets aim for first next one, congratulations to max for winning the opening race of the season. let's goooooooo (mini boss said we need to look more happy)

maxverstappen1 well done, team

charles_leclerc great work, let's go for saudi aiming all 44 points

izzyhaho amazing job, as the usual

scuderiaferrari congratulations, Charles!

user34 can we take a moment to appreciate how well the car married with charles? it was like watching the old times again

user35 verstappen and leclerc fighting for p1 all the race, redbull doing double stacks 2 times, no inchidents... we'll about to testify the most dominant season a team could everrrrr be

user36 the way thar charles left the car and immediately went for the team and the team was there to congratulate him

user37 this duo... let's hope it doesn't turn a britcedes 2.0

redbullracing

liked by mercedesamgf1, pierregasly, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, izzyhaho and 766.098 others

redbullracing: jeddah, melbourne and suzuka front row lockout 🔒 congratulations on charles first pole and first victory for the team, well done! congrats to max for his second win of the season. see you soon shanghai.

maxverstappen1 let's do it again next week, can we?

charles_leclerc hey adm, could i please fire isabella from being my race engineer?

izzyhaho you are saying this now that you won 2 out of 4 races just because i got i little too happy and screamed for 3 laps on your ear?

maxverstappen1 she did it with me too

sebastianvettel i think she just didn't do it with me too because she wasn't at the paddock the first time i won, but the first world championship... i can still hear her

pierregasly lil charlie is all for the team

landonorris charles is like troy bolton

maxverstappen1 that would made me gabriella montez?

danielricciardo no.

izzyhaho max, delete this, daniel is about to storm into the facilities just to cry in front of you

charles_leclerc i don't want this blond as my gabriella montez

danielricciardo hey isabella, he's talking about you

user38 100% of victories for redbull so far... im scared

user39 the way that even though we know rbr is going to win the season is good because charles and max are fighting all the time

user40 we all knew that with a good car charlie would shine

user41 no more nightmares about a understeering car

user42 no one is going to talk how ferrari dnfed 2 races and only stayed on points on jeddah?

besthorneriz karma takes all my friends to the summit

redbullracing isabella, get out of your private account!

#formula 1 #charles leclerc #formula one imagine #formula one #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #ferrari #max verstappen #redbull era charles

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chvnnie · 1 year

Note

Bro, fkn made me tear up while I'm in my PMS week Lawd have mercy.

Your response was so sweet,

Okay but what would happen if they reunited years later when he has had children?

Would that spark be there?

Would he avoid her?

Would she not want to see him with another woman?

Will they enjoy one final night together?

Decisions, decisions 🤔

do you guys enjoy seeing me suffer like—

blaming you for how much I love this fucking couple and the way I couldn’t stop writing this!!! AND I TRIED!!!

it’s long. im apologizing now.

SMUT — MINORS DNI

You never fell out of contact with Chan.

Well, maybe for a few months. When everything was still fresh. It hurt too much to even see his name in your contact list; talking to him would have shattered every atom inside you.

Everything stops hurting eventually. When he called you one day, exactly five months and three days after the world ended, the pain was almost numbed. As your phone vibrated in your hand, you realized it wasn’t what you were that you missed. It was him. Chan. Your best friend, even long before the two of you became one.

You answered. And suddenly the atoms started to bounce together, the world rebuilding from scratch.

The years passed. The planet flourished. Not a day went by without a word shared between the two of you. Weddings were held — Chan’s, insistent that you were always meant to be by his side. Begging you to be his “best woman”.

“You were always meant to be at my wedding.” He said after you denied the request over and over, a little tipsy on the bottle of wine you were sharing at his engagement party. “Please. It can’t happen without you.”

The thought was shared, but never spoken. Off to the side isn’t where either of you pictured your place in it.

Yours. A spur of the moment decision, overwhelmed from planning a party that neither you or your husband really wanted. A quick search proved that tickets to Vegas were far cheaper. A bottle of shitty champagne was shared over fast food burgers that really weren’t that filling.

Or, you tell yourself it was the burger.

Your best friend almost passed out at your monthly double date night. After the shock wore off, and after he chugged a glass or two of bourbon, he smile at you from across the table.

But it looks a little sad.

“I guess you can’t help your wants, huh?”

Other milestones passed. Big birthdays, new jobs and promotions, two babies for Chan, a dog for you. All was well; the sun shining, flowers blooming, the world finally stable again.

The first earthquake came the day of the youngest’s third birthday party.

You’re in Chan’s kitchen, digging through the adult cooler for the seltzers you brought. Did somebody drink them all? Ugh, you knew that fucking bitch from across the street was being a little too sneaky with her beverage. Wait until you hit her with that cash request after the party—

The backdoor opens quickly, two sets of feet rushing inside followed by a loud slam. You jump, quickly hiding in the pantry before they can make it into the kitchen.

“Will you just talk to me?” It’s Chan.

“How many times are you going to ask me about it?” His wife. “Fuck, can you just drop it—“

“I just think it’s pretty convenient that your boss brings up another business trip, just the two of you, today.”

Silence. A drawer slams.

“Are you really going to ruin your son’s party like this, Christopher?”

The snicker Chan gives raises the hairs on your arm. “Are you really going to keep pretending like you’re not fucking your boss?”

You have to clasp a hand over your mouth to silence the loud gasp that escapes you. It’s not like it was any secret that they’re having problems; he confided in you months ago that things have started to get rocky. Never, ever, did you expect this, though.

She storms out, saying something under your breath that you can’t hear. Door slams. Chan sighs into the empty kitchen, probably running his fingers through his hair if had to guess—

“I know you’re in there.” He sounds defeated. “You left your phone on the counter.”

Shit.

Slowly, you crack the door open, peeking out of the dark pantry. Your friend is leaning against the sink, arms crossed across his broad chest. There’s a small smile on his pain stricken face, eyes crinkling at the outer corners. Age treated him well.

“I wasn’t listening.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar.”

You step out of the pantry fully, walking slowly up to your friend. There’s enough space next to him for you, which you take. Leaning side by side, staring out the large window at the party. It carries on; children laughing, eating cake. Parents chatting, chasing kids. All this joy on the other side of the thin glass, completely oblivious to the trembling beneath their feet.

You speak first. “How long have you known?”

“A while.” Chan takes a deep breath, trying to relax his shoulders. “I had hoped when she switched departments it would stop but…yeah.”

Outside the window, the curly haired boy turns in a circle. His little eyes are wide and bright, searching the crowd of grownups for a familiar face. His mom’s back is turned, he doesn’t see her. Though you’re sure he’s actually speaking, all you see is his mouth move.

Dada?

When he can’t find him, another name comes from his mouth. Scanning the sea of people for you.

The second quake comes three months later.

Chan and his wife are in therapy, and though all appears well, the cracks are deep. Wide. You can see right through the facade.

It’s cold outside. Even through your thick jacket, you can feel the heavy winter breeze. It freezes your nose, numbs your lips. You walk quickly, dog trotting alongside you in the same rush. The little boots he wears protects his paws, yet he still whimpers.

When was the last time Christmas Eve was this cold?

There’s a fire crackling when you open the front door, your dog barely off the leash before she barrels to it. Jumping on her little boots, trying to warm up.

“Fuck, it’s cold.” You curse, shedding the many layers you wore. “I literally thought I was going to get frostbite.”

Your husband doesn’t give more than a hum in acknowledgment, nose in his book. Plopping on the couch next to him, you lean in to give him a kiss.

And he moves away.

“All good?” The concern is heavy in your voice.

Nothing. Just a hum.

“Can I have a kiss?”

“I’m busy.”

“Reading. The same book you read every winter.”

It’s harsh, the way he slams the book shut. When he looks up at you, you can help but recoil. Scooting just a bit back from him. The look in his eyes is so…different.

“Can you just give me some fucking space? Please?” He doesn’t raise his voice, and that makes it all the more concerning. Scary. “God, you’re so clingy all the time.”

Oh. Your eyes drop, lips pressing into a thin line. Jeez, why does this cut so deep? It’s not the first time he’s said it to you.

“I guess—I just thought, since it’s Christmas—“

“Eve.” He’s annoyed. You awkwardly adjust yourself on the couch, bringing a sweater clad hand to your face to wipe the tears you can’t help. “Oh, please, stop crying. It’s not that deep.”

There’s a tree on the planet. It’s tall, home to leaves that change colors. Usually, it’s day by day, depending on the waves and the weather and the stars. All day they’ve been a sparkly light green. Peace. A good color.

But they’ve started to bleed, something dark taking over the peace just as the ground begins to break.

Your husband picks the book up. Not another word to you. Heart in your stomach, you head towards the staircase. “I’m going to bed.”

He doesn’t look up from the book. “Take your fucking dog with you.”

The most impactful quake comes a mere three weeks later.

You’re sat on the living room floor, a brush handled by a five year old girl roughly running through your hair. It stings a little, but there’s no point in stopping her. She’s too stubborn to listen.

“Why don’t you wear braids?” She asked in her little voice.

“Never thought about it.” You shrug.

She sighs as if this is the most awful thing you could’ve have told her. “But you would be a princess if you wore them!”

You turn your head slightly, looking up at the girl. Her eyes are her father’s, along with the exasperated look she’s giving you.

“Shit, really?”

You cringe at the word choice, but the little girl doesn’t even flinch.

“Yes.” She sighs. “Turn around, I help you.”

Can’t really argue with that. Right as you think she’s taken at least half of your hair, Chan comes into the living room. Headed straight for the front door.

“Alright, the youngest is asleep.” He’s reaching for his coat, checking his watch obsessively. He’s late. “Pizza is on the way, don’t let the monster stay up too late.”

Finger guns to his daughter, who just ignored him. Not amused with his stupid joke.

“I shouldn’t be long, maybe three hours tops.” Chan says to you. “Changbin has kids to get home to, so I’ll be back before you can miss me too much.”

You flip him off. The daughter follows.

“Okay, don’t like do that at school or anything-“

“We’ll be alright.” You say, trying to get him out the door. Things have been more tense that usual lately; it took all of Changbin’s energy to convince him to get a drink with him. Nothing is going to keep him in this house. “Don’t have too much fun.”

The smile he gives you is so genuine. Real happiness. It’s been a while since you’ve seen that.

The pizza? Mediocre at best. The movie she picked? You hate how invested you were in that storyline. It’s like you blinked and it was time for bed, helping the little girl into her bright blue sheets.

She picks the book for you to read. Four pages, and she’s snoring.

You’ve never liked kids. Never really wanted them, either. While you still hold these sentiments, it’s hard to not like her. Her brother. There’s something about them that’s different, tugging on your heart so hard you think it will pop out of your chest.

Kids are awful. But Chan’s? You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of.

She’s been asleep about thirty minutes. Mindlessly, you click through the tv channel, trying to decide on something. Barely nine in the evening, and there’s nothing to watch? That seems like a scam—

Bang. Thunder. Flashes of lightning. The world shaking harder than it has since it’s birth about ten years ago. Chan storms inside his home, the heavy footsteps making you jump.

“Fuck!” You cry, holding a hand over your heart as you try to catch your breath. “You scared me—“

“She’s not on a trip.” He’s tearing off his coat, kicking off his shoes. Slamming the keys and wallet on the coffee table.

The wheels are turning slowly, but when they click, you feel cold. A blizzard tumbling through the planet. “What?”

Everything was fine. Chan was happy, talking with Changbin and sharing shitty wings over even shittier beer. For a second, he forgot. Forgot about his wife and her affair, the therapy that he honestly felt was a waste of time. The divorce papers in the top drawer of his office, already signed and ready to be present when his wife gets back.

He just needed to pee. Walking towards the back of the crowded bar, he saw a set of eyes he knew too well. It brings him to a halt, looking right at his wife. Who is staring right back at him. With the arm of her boss around her shoulders.

“How many times has she said she was going to be gone, just to stay in town with him?” Chan asks, his voice rising as the storm gets heavier. “Does she not give a shit about our children—“

“Who are sleeping.” You add, grabbing your friend’s biceps and squeezing them tightly. He’s getting too worked up. The feelings he had for her are long, long gone. Buried so deep they’ll never be found.

He’s not mad about the cheating. He’s mad about how she’s abandoned the children.

Chan nods before he sits on the couch. Head hanging in his hands, nails scratching his scalp. Exhausted. Lonely. Broken.

“Why did I fucking marry her?”

You take a seat next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. Your best friend, your everything. Soulmates always seem like an unbelievable concept, until you met Chan. Without a doubt, he is one of yours.

Though, the universe still seems torn on the kind.

“She wasn’t always like this.” You reassure him. “Remember how hard you fell for her? It was really cute; you couldn’t stop talking about her. Nobody expected this, Chan.”

“I did.” When he looks at you, his eyes are dark. Wide. Solid, serious expression not waving even in the intense winds. “I always knew. She never loved me like I loved—“

The sentence isn’t finished. It doesn’t need to be.

Like that, the rain has stopped. Thunder silenced, sky dark. Time has been paused, standing still as you stare at each other in the dimly lit living room. It doesn’t feel like you’re breathing. Like anything is happening.

Except for a teeny, tiny spark. Rock against rock. Fire being invented once again.

Time resumes as Chan pulls you into his lap, lips colliding intensely. His tongue is heavy on yours, deeply kissing you as if to consume you. To make up for all the kisses that should have been.

This affair isn’t driven by hurt, by the agony caused at the hands of both your spouses. It isn’t jealousy, it isn’t hate. It’s a love that always was, always will, and was always meant to be at the core of the universe.

Even the apocalypse couldn’t destroy it.

Ten years. Ten years and Chan still knows how to touch you. The little place on your collarbone that turns you into jelly. How you love when he bites roughly on your nipples, the teasing of his fingers hooking under the waistband of your jeans.

“I hate that you got married in Vegas.” He says in a growl, lowering you onto the coffee table. “I hate that you didn’t fucking tell me until you got back.”

He yanks your jeans down, taking the soft cotton panties will them. Body bare for him once again.

“I hate that I wasn’t there.” The buttons become loose as he roughly takes his shirt off. He watches as your eyes travel, following his hands to the belt he’s pulling off. A familiar awe.

It’s cute. Sets his heart on fire in the best way possible.

Grabbing your chin, he tilts your head so you’re looking at him again.

“Pay attention to me when I talk to you, baby.” He says with a smile, wetting his lips before capturing yours again. “Don’t you want to know why I hated that so much?”

You blink slowly, giving a brief nod.

Hips against hips, the head of his cock works it’s way up and down your silt. A beautiful moan, a cold shiver. Everything falling into place as he lines himself up.

“Because I was going to say no.”

He doesn’t linger. Quickly, Chan buries himself inside you, fucking you with a passion you haven’t felt in years.

“How dare you-“ hands on either side of your head, he grips the coffee table for support. “—marry someone who isn’t me?”

You’re breathless. Jaw dropped, clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. It’s like no time has passed; fucking you like you need, like you deserve. Something only Chan has ever been able to do.

“You’re my girl, remember?” He grunts, eyes rolling back slightly when you clench around him. “How could you forget that?”

Shaking your head, your head rolls back. Full, wonderful moans like music to Chan’s ears.

“N-never did.” You admit, chest shaking with heavy breaths. “I’ve always been y-yours, Chan-“

When he kisses you, the world splits in two. Existence finally starting to make sense. Teeth and tongue, he loves you in the best way anyone ever has. Bodies becoming one, forces beyond your own making you whole once more.

He looks at you. Your heart skips a beat.

Has this world always been full of life, or is it all brand new? Could life exist without the two of you?

“Good.” Chan’s smile is like home. “Because I’ll never stop wanting you.”

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