#since I clock in and work 7+ hours straight w no fucking breaks on this manual labor job

[hagravenholm]

You know what that last post just made me realize? I fucking hate Sundays

#especially now. waking up to a whole day of free time and I’m broke and alone. yippee! #also no w**d. which is horrible. #:/ i want my medicine at least damn lol. #I’m probably just gonna go get ahead of some school work since that’s all my life consists of now is school and a job I can’t fucking stand #which I actually suspect is damaging my health. #since I clock in and work 7+ hours straight w no fucking breaks on this manual labor job #I take my coffee and a breakfast bar for work in the mornings and half the time I don’t even get time to finish eating or drinking my #fucking breakfast until after my shit is over 8 hours later #I want to cry. I’m sorry I know how it sounds. I just fucking hate this life I’m living sm now and a huge part of my can’t wait for it to #be absolutely over in any way. whether it be permanently or miraculous… I kinda don’t care at this point tbh #and one other thing it’s absolutely fucking hilarious to me and by that I mean it makes my blood fucking boil #hearing privileged assholes say just go to therapy hurr durr! jus go to da doctor! #motherfucking I am the working class I do no have health insurance. #not only that but I can’t afford it! lmfao like this is the way the system was set up #for people like me to work and work and work themselves to death but no one fucking gets this bc this country & older people are braindead #and lick the corpo boot clean and say the party line just work harder just go buy therapy forehead. #thanks! I’d actually love to. I’ve actually been wanting a therapist for years now. #people love to talk over me when I try to explain my material reality. it’s just a nightmare trying to get help in a system that so clearly #just wants to suck you dry to the bone for profit use up all your labor and destroy your body and leave YOU w nothing to show for it #but of course I’m just another crazy commie kid even tho I’m 27. #but no please continue everybody to shame me for not having access to therapy. #and isn’t it funny how the onus is just always on me. Like I’m so sorry that you all have to put up w my bad behavior lmao #as if I fucking knifed someone or something. as if I don’t try to apologize when I mess up. but no one EVER ever ever ever ever gives me #any fucking credit for that. for trying my best to fix mistakes I made. whatever. #I’m just complaining what else do I even have left

[not-a-space-alien]

Into the Unknown, Part 8:  Beneath A Purple Sky, or: Crowley’s Adventures in Wonderland

Prologue | Dramatis Personae | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Series masterpost

On AO3

“Fuck!  Shite! Fuck!  Fuck!”

Anyone within a mile of Crowley would have been able to hear the stream of curses pouring from his mouth.  But he was up in the stratosphere and plummeting like a comet, yelling into the empty sky.

He tumbled head over heels, utterly disoriented, his vision a blur. He burned all over.

He hadn’t burned like this since he Fell.  He registered dimly it was the same pain as Falling, God’s presence burning you to Hell, the same pain as the time he had been in Heaven under the protection of angel dust that had rubbed off.

It was at this point that he made the connection that Falling hurt so much because you had just become a demon, but were still in Heaven and in contact with the Divine Aura until you nose-dived out of it into Hell.

And what he felt right now was a little like that, except God had been right there, and touching him at that.

Crowley had no idea how he had survived, or where he was at the moment. The stinging sensation of God’s holy aura had been overpowering for a single, terrifying, painful moment, then it had just…disappeared.

Maybe he was in the process of dying.  Somebody, he hurt all over.  It was fading, though, as he got further from the source.  Or maybe as he just continued on with dying.

But no, that couldn’t be right, because he could still feel things.  Over the dwindling stinging in his demonic core, he felt the wind rushing past him.  He wasn’t Falling, just falling.

Priority number one was to stop this free-fall that had consumed him somehow. He could almost feel the atmosphere’s friction rubbing him like a comet at terminal velocity.  His vision started to return, fading back in to show him a view of the earth spinning beneath his feet, a whir of land and trees alternating with a clear purple sky—

Wait, the sky was purple.  Why was the sky purple?

Crowley phased his wings into existence and tried to snap them open, but they shrieked in pain as he moved them.  He grit his teeth and steadied himself, splaying out like a skydiver.

A second glance confirmed that the sky was indeed purple.  Despite the direness of the situation, Crowley couldn’t help but stare upwards at it for a few moments.  His tie flapping up and hitting him in the face jarred his attention back to the situation.

Crowley tried easing his wings open slowly and had a bit more success. In the end, he was able to slow his fall enough to look at the ground below him and determine where he was.

Somebody, he was so high up.  He had barely noticed the air was too thin to breathe.  For a moment, he could’ve sworn he could see the curvature of the Earth.  A huge carpet of rugged waves hurtled towards him as he fell, and he realised he needed to take evasive action or land in the ocean.

He didn’t know exactly where he was, but he was able to steer himself so he would land in what he thought was Great Britain, at least.

He landed heavily in a tangle of trees, snapping branches beneath him and thumping into a carpet of pine needles in the dirt.

He just lay there with his wings askew beneath him, spread out looking up at the sky.

It was purple?

Crowley groaned, feeling the aches from the descent racking his body on top of the burns the Divine Aura had inflicted.  His hand worked its way down his shirt and unbuttoned it to assess the damage. There was a huge hand-print of red, blistered skin wrapped around his midsection where he had been grabbed, but other than that the damage seemed to be minimal.

Thank somebody.  That could have ended very differently.

His fingers worked at a patch of raw skin on his face, and he miracled a burn salve into existence and applied it to himself.

“God,” he moaned.  “Fuck. Damn.”

A winged figure flickered across the sky, too fast for him to see who it was. Crowley collected himself and managed to get to his feet, teetering over to a tree for support.

He was still trying to catch his breath when a strange little angel appeared in the tree above him.  They had a spacey look in their eyes.

“Hello?” said Crowley.

WHERE DID YOU COME FROM? said the angel, cocking their head.  STRANGE, STRANGE.

“Um,” said Crowley.  “Space? Is that you?”

I SHOULD GO FIX THE HOLE, they said, then flitted away up into the sky.

Crowley plopped back down on the ground, exhaustedly putting his head to his knees.  He ended up sitting there for a few minutes to gather up his will to move, then set off towards where London should be if his rudimentary navigation during free-fall had been accurate.

********************

Crowley healed some of his more debilitating injuries on his own, but to save his energy he left some of them for the more thorough recovery session he anticipated once he was reunited with Aziraphale, Maltha, and the rest.

Somebody, he hoped they had escaped from the Judgement Room alive.  He had no idea what had happened.  He had to get back to them ASAP.  But going back up to Heaven was absolutely out of the question with how he had left it.

There should be somebody in London, he thought, if he could just meet up with someone to make contact, and he could decide where to go from there.  Last he heard, Botis and Kyleth were still in the hotel across town.  They might be his best bet.  At the very least, Kyleth could peek her head into Heaven and see if it was safe.

Crowley stopped in the middle of this train of thought, legs dangling and hovering in the air.  Surely this was where London was, right?  He had been there millions of times.  He had let his wings fly him there based on muscle memory.

Crowley had never gotten lost before, not in Great Britain, his home.

He flew up higher into the sky to orient himself to try and counter his sinking stomach.  Had he hurt his head somehow?

The M25 was gone.  London wasn’t where it was supposed to be.  And was Mayfair…in Ireland?

Crowley shook his head, but he traced his path around the bodies of water and confirmed that, yes, this big ol’ island under him was indeed the UK.  Frustrated, Crowley swooped lower over a large city, scanning it for familiar landmarks.

Okay, there was Big Ben.  That was a start.  Crowley alighted on the hour hand of the clock, the machinations of the clockwork rumbling behind him.

Wait, what did the clock say?  He turned back to look at it.

Big Ben only had six numbers on it.  One through six, spread out evenly over the face as though it constituted a whole day.  And in Arabic numerals, not roman.  Also, the clock face was a completely different colour.  Also, it wasn’t Big Ben at all, just some other iconic clock tower soaring above the city heights, some new and completely foreign clock tower Crowley had never seen in the hundreds of years he had lived in Great Britain.  He stared at it, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

The bell rumbled, and Crowley leapt off before the hour hand turned and the bell deafened him.

“Okay,” said Crowley, wringing his hands.  “I must have hit my head a bit in the fall.  No matter.  Should clear up soon.”

That purple sky felt all too real, though.  He felt like he just needed one thing to orient himself.  If he could just find Aziraphale….or anyone.

Crowley rubbed the silver ring on his finger, trying to activate the charm. It stayed unlit.

He frowned.  When had he used it last?  Surely it had been longer than 12 hours by now?

Crowley pushed down the pit in his stomach, swooping down to what he thought might be familiar territory.  He drifted for a while up in the stratosphere, shading his eyes with his hands and peering down below.

There, a patch of green nestled among the grid-work of the city.  It looked weirdly like St. James’s park, considering it definitely wasn’t.  And there, oh sweet someone, sitting on a bench by the pond—

Aziraphale.  Crowley dove straight towards him like a parched man after water.

The angel’s attention pricked up as Crowley approached, folding in his wings and jogging over, panting.  “Aziraphale!  Thank f— Whew, I thought I would never find you.”

Aziraphale’s stare on him was hard.  He hadn’t gotten up from the bench.

Crowley doubled over with his hands on his thighs.  “Are you okay?  Are Maltha and Noah okay?  What happened?”

“You…” said Aziraphale.  “You’re dead.”

Crowley straightened up.  “Ah…Nope…Gotta say, Aziraphale, I expected a bit more of a warm welcome…”

Aziraphale stood up, eyeing him critically.  “You’re dead.  How are you…?  I killed you.”

“A little concern?  Anything?  Wait, did you say you…?”

Aziraphale drew his sword.  Crowley held his hands out and backed up.  “W-wait, Aziraphale, it’s me. Crowley.”  It was at this point that Crowley notice the gold ring, which he had so lovingly slid up the finger of Aziraphale’s sword hand, was nowhere to be seen on the hand gripping the weapon pointed at him.

“Stay right where you are,” said Aziraphale, bringing the point of his sword up into Crowley’s chest.  Crowley held his hands up higher.  “You won’t make any sudden movements if you value your life.”

Crowley’s despairing eyes swept up Aziraphale’s weapon into the angel’s face. “Angel, I…”

Aziraphale materialised a communication device of some sort; it looked rather like an ethereal flip phone, which he snapped open.  “I need to speak to Azrael right away,” he said into it.

“Aziraphale, it’s me, Crowley.”

“I’m aware,” Aziraphale snapped.  “My demonic nemesis I vanquished centuries ago, somehow come back from the dead to haunt me.”

“What?” said Crowley, his heart growing heavy and threatening to break.

“I’m sure the warrior on patrol heard the disturbance and is en route, so don’t think of trying anything.  We’ll get to the bottom of this, serpent.”

A few humans had gathered nearby, gawking at Aziraphale’s weapon. Aziraphale dispelled them with a miracle-laden suggestion they head home and forget what they had seen.

“Can—Can I talk to—”  Crowley swallowed.  Something was terribly wrong.  Aziraphale was acting like a proper angelic asshole.  Who would Crowley have a chance of getting to who might help?  “Can you call Raphael on that thing?  Or Victoria?”

Aziraphale glowered at him.

“Anyone?  Any archangel?”

“Archangel?” said Aziraphale.

“Yes, archangel?” said Crowley.

They stared each other down.  Had Crowley been a cat, his tail would have been floofed out.

“Ah, here comes my backup,” said Aziraphale with a smug smile, and a pair of wingbeats sounded nearby.  “Looks like Hastaphael is on this route today.”

“…Who?”

Crowley nearly fainted when a second angel alighted by Aziraphale, likewise drawing his sword.  The newcomer was an angelic warrior, but the face, the aura….

“Hastur?” said Crowley, absolutely floored.  “Are you an angel?”

The warrior gave him an ugly sneer.  “What are you talking about, demon?”

“He’s not making an ounce of sense,” said Aziraphale.  “This is clearly an anomaly.  We ought to take him to Gabriel.”

“Where’s his Eye of Satan?” said the angel with Hastur’s face.

Crowley yelped nervously as the warrior angel roughly grabbed him and pulled his collar down, exposing his bare neck, then twisted his wrists to perform the same inspection.

“It’s always on the wrist or the neck,” said Aziraphale.

“I know,” the warrior growled.  “He dunt got one.”

“It was on his neck before.”

Crowley tried to lean away from the grabbing hands, but the warrior clamped a hand on his jaw and tilted Crowley’s head to peer at the other side of his neck.

“I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding,” said Crowley, voice muffled underneath the warrior’s hand.

“Doesn’t matter,” said the warrior.  “Only good demon is a dead demon.  Let’s run him through.”

“We should take him to Gabriel,” Aziraphale said.

“What for?”

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale snapped.  “This is clearly an anomaly, though!”

“We can file a report after we—huh?”

Another pair of wingbeats approached.

“He’s got backup,” the warrior growled, shoving Crowley away and raising his sword to the sky.

“I-I do?” said Crowley.

Crowley let out a grunt of surprise as Aziraphale tackled him, pinning him to the ground.  “Don’t think about going anywhere,” Aziraphale said.

A circle of grass nearby wilted and burnt with a sizzling sound, and a demonic warrior leapt out.  His wings flared as he barreled onto the scene, shouting and sword drawn back for a blow.

“Botis?” said Crowley.

“Unhand him!” Botis shouted, flapping his wings.  “Or face a solid pounding.”

The angel called Hastaphael waved at Aziraphale in a dismissive way. “Run him through.”

Crowley let out an eep and rolled out from under Aziraphale as Aziraphale retrieved his sword, still seeming conflicted.  Crowley hit a pair of armored legs and peered up to see Botis’s ugly but familiar visage sneering at him.  “Get out of here; I’ll find you later.”

That was all the permission Crowley needed; he leapt to his feet and sprinted away.  Botis seemed to be immensely enjoying the fight as his sword clanged loudly, audible even as Crowley lost sight of the park and was swallowed up by the streets of Not-London.

***********************

So, this was some sort of alternate timeline.  That was the only explanation for everything he had seen.

Crowley had no idea where—or when?—he was, what this strange place was, but clearly he was not in his own time and place.  The landscape was different, and none of his friends recognised him.

And based on Aziraphale’s reaction, it sounded like Crowley had existed in this place, except Aziraphale had killed him a while back, and therefore his appearance had been interpreted as an unexplained miraculous resurrection, the same kind they had just been working to solve when he had been thrown out of Heaven.

Had he time-travelled somehow?  Well, it couldn’t have been backwards, because the city had been modernised.  He had seen people with mobile phones on his mad dash out—Not any brands he recognised, though.  He had seen someone with what appeared to be an iPhone, but when he doubled back to look at it again, the icon on the back of the device had turned out to be a pineapple and not the signature apple with a bite out of it.

He had been responsible for that particular bit of iconography and he was curiously sad to see it go.

Surely he couldn’t have gone forward in time, either.  There would have had to be some serious changes in the intervening years for Aziraphale to hate Crowley enough to kill him, but accept Hastur, who was, oh yeah, still an angel here somehow.

If it wasn’t back or forwards, had he gone….sideways?

Damn.  What was so different about this place that not only did Aziraphale and Crowley not get along, but hated each other so much they actually killed one another?  Aziraphale and Crowley had never even made a habit of discorporating each other, let alone going at each other with holy water and aural weapons.

Crowley found it disturbing in the highest degree.  Clearly whatever God had done to him, he had been transported to some place where the capital W-War was still on.  And in a heightened state at that, if warriors were patrolling and appearing at field agents’ sides in seconds.

Crowley had never been defended by a demonic warrior before the ineffable plan had been turned on its head six-thousand years in.  Demonic warriors were there to have a go at angelic warriors, and angelic warriors were there to keep demonic warriors from having a go at angels that were not warriors and therefore not very good at defending themselves.  The angelic warriors mostly did their job by sitting around and making their presence clear as a deterrent, and not much else.

And they had just appeared to interfere with a quarrel between two field agents seconds after it broke out…?  

Crowley had sprinted away from Botis, Hastaphael, and Aziraphale until he was too far away to feel their auras.  Then he kept going for good measure, sure that if Botis wanted to find him again he would manage to somehow, considering he had no idea how Botis had found him in the first place.

He legged it out of this strange city that wasn’t London, not stopping until he was back in the forest, because the city unnerved him.

Panting heavily, Crowley leaned against a tree and dropped down.  He curled around himself.

This sucked, plain and simple.  He had thought God was going to kill him, but He had done something else different entirely, and he couldn’t figure out what.  Seeing Aziraphale want to kill him was worse, almost.  He didn’t like this one bit.  He hated it.

Where was his Aziraphale?  That must have been a different Aziraphale. Somehow.  And how was Botis here, but not Maltha?  Or any other of his friends?

Well, Botis’s loyalty must just be a constant no matter the universe.

He still ached from the wounds he hadn’t healed earlier.  He materialised his staff and started giving them some attention, but he was interrupted by the sound of wings drawing near.

Crowley stood up and stretched his legs as Botis touched down, sheathed sword jangling against his heavy armor.  “There you are.  Are you hurt?”

“A little,” said Crowley.  “But it’s not—”

He was cut off as Botis seized his arm, inspecting him.  “Hmm….These look like holy water burns,” said Botis, with a critical eye on the injuries he had been tending.  “You really need to be more careful.  If you just followed SOP for interacting with angels in the field, we wouldn’t be in this situation.  The rules are there for a reason.  What were you even trying to do?”

“To do?”

“Yeah, lollygagging around in that park with an angel nearby.”

“I was—I was trying to talk to Aziraphale.”

“Talk to him?”

“Y—Yes?  Botis, what’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” Botis echoed dimly.  He still had a hand on Crowley, and he began to sort of pat him down.  “Where’s your Eye of Satan?”

“Okay, what is that?”

Botis twisted Crowley’s wrists and examined his neck the same way the angels had.

“Please fill me in,” said Crowley. “I feel so lost right now.”

Botis blinked at him.

“Eye of Satan?”

Botis held his right hand out, wrist-up.  A tattoo of an eye stared back at Crowley, nestled among a lace of occult sigils.

“O—oh,” said Crowley.  “And that’s…?”

The ink on Botis’s skin writhed and pulsed.  The eye blinked and the pupil darted up to look at Crowley.

“Ah!” said Crowley, taking a step back.

“Botis, what’s going on?” said a disembodied voice, and the eye blinked again. “Who is that?”

“Demon I had to rescue from angelic warriors,” said Botis.  “He doesn’t have an Eye.”

“What?”

Botis’s gaze moved from the tattoo back up to Crowley, mustache bristling. “Wrists and neck are both blank. Unless you authorised him to have it somewhere else?”

“No,” said the voice.  “Bring him down as soon as you can so we can fix this.  What class is he?”

Crowley wrung his hands and stepped in, determined to take back some modicum of control over the situation.  “Field agent,” he reported.

Botis glared at him and said in a strained whisper, “Don’t be stupid.”  Then he looked back down at the tattoo, the pupil of which darted back and forth between the two of them as they talked.  “He’s a healer.”

“If he’s injured take him to field encampment 27, then bring him down to speak with me,” said the voice.

“Yes, Lord.”

The tattoo fell still.

“What—What the fuck was that?” said Crowley.

“That was our Lord Satan, and you forget yourself,” said Botis.  “Show some respect.”

Crowley felt dismay weighing down his heart.  “Oh.  Of course. I-I haven’t done anything, though.  Surely Satan is too busy to pay any attention to little old me.”

“Lord Satan always makes time to pay attention to details,” said Botis.  “Now, follow me.”

Now that was something Crowley hadn’t thought he would ever hear a demon say.  Satan was usually rather lackadaisical about the details—it’s why Crowley was able to get away with not actually doing his job.  Satan paying attention to you wasn’t a good sign.

“But, look, I haven’t done anything wrong,” said Crowley, trying painfully hard to keep the whimper out of his voice.

Botis looked at him strangely.  “I never said you did anything wrong.”

“Then why am I being…?”

“Punished?” said Botis.  “Nobody said you were being punished.  We merely need to present ourselves to Satan to correct an anomaly.”

The idea that you would be summoned to speak to Satan for any reason other than if you had done something to piss him off, and therefore were in for a bad time, was utterly foreign to Crowley.  He was having a very hard time wrapping his brain around it.

“What does Satan want to…?”

“We need to get you treated first, at any rate,” said Botis.  “We can’t have you walking about with burns like that.”

And treating injured demons in the field…?  Part of the entire reason why Hell was shite was because there weren’t any healers, and if you got hurt you just needed to deal with it yourself.

“What’s wrong?” said Botis.  “You seem confused.”

“Uh,” said Crowley.  “I—Uh, um…We’re going to field encampment…?”

“Twenty-seven, yes.  It’s over in this direction.”  Botis steered him by the arm.  “Come on, then.”

“Oh—Okay.  Um, hey Botis?  Thanks.”

Botis turned back and eyed him strangely.

“For saving me back there?  They were going to kill me.”

“Just doing my job.  You can trust me to do my job,” said Botis.  “After all, it’d be a funny old world if demons went around not trusting each other.”

******************

Crowley picked up rather quickly that this wasn’t his Botis, much to his disappointment.  Gone were the “sirs” and protective exclamations about Crowley’s safety and basically everything that had made Botis nice to have around.

It was the same way that Aziraphale hadn’t been his Aziraphale. He had no idea what that meant, the full extent of what was going on, but he was reasonably smart and able to tell that something was terribly amiss.

His earlier thoughts about being transposed in time or thrown into a parallel dimension had been half in jest, but he had no way of knowing how close he was to the truth.

Botis led him to a field encampment.  He didn’t like this version of Botis very much, so he was relieved at the thought that maybe Botis would leave him alone here.

The camp was hidden by a protective miracle to keep humans from stumbling into it—it appeared to be nestled in a fold of space-time that a simple teleportation miracle would straighten out.  There was a fence made of wooden slats, tents, a gate—the whole nine yards.  It looked remarkably like one of the angelic field camps that would occasionally be positioned in Heaven’s territory on Earth.  It was bigger, though.

And did they say this one was number twenty-seven?  Heaven probably had only a dozen or so of them scattered about the globe.  There wasn’t generally much need for them.

Botis escorted him via an overly firm grip on his arm to a tent with an icon of a green staff on it.  When he pulled the curtain aside to enter, Crowley saw the interior of the tent was dominated by medical cots and demons dressed in scrubs running about madly like ants.

Crowley’s eyes widened.  “Botis, is this…?”

“The infirmary, yes,” said Botis, trying to flag someone down.

“These are all infernal healers?”

“Yes,” said Botis distractedly.  “Ramikale, I need to speak with you.”

Crowley was too overwhelmed to take note of to whom Botis was motioning. There had to be at least half a dozen demonic healers in here.  Real healers, who were created as healing class, and fell as healing class.  He could tell just by looking at them and feeling their auras.

“Botis, who are these demons?” said Crowley, but Botis ignored him, as he had finally caught the attention of one of the medical demons.

Crowley was shocked when she pulled down the mask on her face, revealing the familiar visage of his friend Ramial, except her eyes glowed an infernal red. She had the same eye tattoo as Botis, but it was on her neck.  “What is it now, Botis?”

“I found this demon wandering about,” said Botis.  “He has no Eye—”

“No Eye?  That’s an anomaly.  Satan won’t be happy.”

“I know, so I’m taking him down to Hell, but first we need to treat his injuries.  If it’d be possible to put him at the front of the queue, that would expedite things for Lord Satan.”

“Sure.”  The healing demon hovered over Crowley as Botis spoke, pecking at him with a trained eye. “Holy water burns, it looks like.”

“Ramial?” said Crowley.  “Did you…?”

The healing demon gave him an annoyed look.  “Did you get into a fight?”

“Yeah,” said Botis.  “I caught him walking right up to a principality as though he wanted afternoon tea with ‘im.”

“You know very well you’re not supposed to engage angels directly,” said the healing demon.  “What did you hope to accomplish?”

“I was…” said Crowley, floundering.  “Ah…Just trying to talk to him.  What’s wrong with that?  Are you....Rami...”

Botis leaned in to whisper, “I don’t think he’s well, you know, mentally.”  The volume was enough for Crowley to hear if he hadn’t been so stunned.  Instead, he reached out a hand to stroke the medical demon’s cheek, thereby confirming Botis’s proclamation in the minds of everyone observing.

Botis left the tent, abandoning Crowley to the clutches of the healers, two more of which had come and started grabbing at him.  They all had the same eye tattoo on their necks, and the pupils thereof would occasionally flare to life and rove about before falling inanimate again as the nurses conducted their inspection of him.

“Very intense burns,” one noted, their voiced tinged with clinical, impersonal interest.  The three of them corralled him into a medical cot, and he lay on it uneasily.

“Must have been a direct hit,” said the other newcomer.

“Interesting shape the wound has taken,” said the original healer, stripping Crowley’s shirt off.  “Almost like a hand-print.”

This was enough to snap Crowley back into reality.  Should he try and hide the source of the wound?  Even if he told them, he wasn’t sure if they would believe him, especially since they were already convinced he was daft.

Did any of these demons know it was possible to get into Heaven?  Did any of them know about—Well, whatever phenomenon could have possibly shafted him into a place like this…?

His thoughts went back to the little angel he had seen upon first coming here.  They had mentioned something about a hole. An entrance Crowley had come through, perhaps?  Maybe he should try and find that place again, to see if there was any way of going back.

Back from where, he had no idea, though.

But part of Crowley wondered if he should be so quick to try and leave. He was surrounded by infernal healers.  These demons were equipped to understand him in a way even Aziraphale wasn’t.  Even Maltha.

“How did you get this wound?” said one of the healers, yanking his attention back to the situation at hand.

He looked at their cotton-clad face, mind drowning in so many layers of static he had no idea what to say.

“Was it holy water?” said a second, with an expectant look.

Crowley stuttered, then nodded.

“Told you,” said one.

“Hey…” he said as they began treating his wounds.  “You guys…how did you fall?  All three of you?  How many more of you are there?”

One of them gave him a dirty look.  The second simply shot up his eyebrows.  The third tutted and patted his head, assuring him they would treat his head injury as well.

Try as he might to connect with them, they treated him as a stranger, even the demon wearing Ramial’s face and aura.  Eventually he gave up and fell silent under their hands whizzing here and there and their chatter, speaking rapidly and efficiently at each other in a way only beings who have worked together seamlessly for thousands of years could accomplish.

They were faster than any healer he had ever seen.  They were faster, and better, than even Raphael.  Than Maltha.  And they had nowhere near the aural power of an archangel or archdemon.

He was on his feet again being shoved towards the exit of the tent in a matter of minutes.  He picked idly at the white cloth wrapping his wounds, trying to take it all in.

“Botis, we’re finished!” one of the healers hollered, disappearing back into the sea of beds and injured demons.  “He’s yours again.”

A shadow fell over Crowley, and he looked up from his bandages.  Botis was in front of him again.  “Now we shall go see our Lord Satan.  She’ll make sense of this.”

“Botis, I was thinking, before that maybe we—Wait, did you say she?”

“Of course.  Hell has always had a queen.”

Relief flooded Crowley.  The most likely candidate for Queen of Hell would, of course, be Maltha.

“You hit your head pretty hard, haven’t you?” said Botis.

“What’s the Queen’s name?”

“Satan, of course.”

“No, I mean—”  He broke off and took a breath.  The realisation was dawning on him that Maltha might not be the same.  It wouldn’t be his Maltha.  And it might not be Maltha at all.  If Ramial had fallen and Hastur hadn’t, who knew what side everyone was on in this place?

What side.  He hated the thought.  Two sides again.  He resolved to get out of here as soon as he could, his earlier waffling completely abandoned.  “Botis, before we go down to Hell, let’s make a stop back to…”

He paused with horror, realising he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to locate his point of entry again.  He’d thought it had been somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, but…

Botis tapped his foot impatiently.  “Back to where?”

Botis’s eye tattoo flared to life again, and the same voice from earlier snapped out, “Back to nowhere.  You’ll bring him down immediately as I commanded, Botis.”

“Yes, my Lord,” said Botis.  “I apologise.”

The tattoo became inanimate again.  Botis reached out and seized Crowley’s arm from where he had crept back away from the strange talking tattoo.  “Come on.  I’m sure this won’t take long.  Our Lord Satan is very efficient.”

Crowley grimaced at the thought, but he saw Botis’s hand resting on his sword hilt.  Surely Botis wouldn’t cut him down if he tried to run…?  But they all seemed dead set on having him meet Satan.

He squared his shoulders.  Well, he’d changed since the last time he’d seen Satan.  He’d faced Satan down and won.  And he’d probably be seeing Satan eventually one way or the other, so it’d probably be best to face it head-on.  He was already scheming his best schemes.

#good omens #my writing #my good omens fanfic

[willgayers]

like, imagine eddie working in a 24/7 convinience store during the night shift (like,,, 11pm-4am) and richie is a regular that just comes in the weirdest hours and buys the most bizarre combo of items and is always trying to flirt w eddie making puns with whatever items hes buying and eddie lowkey likes it (cue stan rolling his eyes)

lmaooo yes yes yes!!

eddie fucking HATES it

but he’s a destitute student (arent we all ha ha ha… send me money) so its not like he really has a choice ya know

he only really likes one of his co-workers (martha) and hates everyone else

but at least theres… something interesting about his job…

richie tozier is 18 and he lives by himself at a condo downtown and his life was pretty fucking boring taking he’d just moved into derry and he knew literally NO ONE other than the cool chick who lives in the same block of flats and richie saw her wearing a the smiths shirt so they became friends 

but then one night,, richie was about to go for a smoke when he realized he’s all out 

also he was kind of in the mood for chicken nuggets

and now that we’re at it how great would a bottle of soda be with that

he remembers seeing a convenience store near his house so he gets up from his couch and glances at the clock ,,, 2am its not that bad yet

so he gets out of the house and walks over to the store

he swings the door open and glances around. the lamps create a rather ugly yellow shade inside,, an old backstreet boys song is playing from the stereos and richie snorts

he doesnt see anyone behind the counter so he just goes straight to the fridge to grab some nuggets,, waddles over to the soda section and grabs a huge bottle of coke

and then he walks out from behind one isle and sees the prettiest?? boy?? ever??

richie drops the coke bottle and it starts to gush out 

the boy behind the counter snaps his head towards richie the SECOND

richie does nothing

“HEY? EXCUSE ME???”

tozier just gapes at him

“ARE YOU GONNA PICK THAT UP??”

“holy shit” richie literally just blurts out 

“??????” this guy is looking at richie like what the fUCK??

then richie flinches back to the moment

“shit,,, i mean,,, yes,, fuck,” richie starts to reach out for the bottle and eddie is like WHAT is this dude seriously gonna grab the-

the soda is still spilling out and some of it shoots straight against richie’s glasses 

“FUCK” he yelps out and drops the bottle, some MORE of it just filling the floor

“oh my gOd just leave it,,, pay for the rest,” eddie sighs knowing he’s gonna have to clean it up

“i am so,,,so sorry” richie blurts out as he rubs his glasses against his shirt and walks towards the counter

eddie looks at him clearer now that he doesnt have the ridiculously big glasses covering half of his face,,, and he swallows because wow?? he’s actually really cute?? 

“yeah its… whatever” eddie murmurs, licking his lips nervously

“so you’ll take that only?” eddie asks, nodding towards the chicken nugget pack

“and a green marlboro”

eddie fights the urge to roll his eyes. he doesnt get smokers

but instead he just hands him the pack 

“that’ll be 6.50″

“here,, and again i am terribly sorry about…”

they both glance behind richie where the coke is only now starting to die out

“yeah.” eddie just says

a few days later,,, richie’s at the skate park with his only friend in town 

“can i tell you something.” richie asks as they’re chilling on top of their skates

“sure” beverly says,, takin a drag out of her cig

“i saw someone”

beverly starts to smirk wide at him 

“oh yeah??? whats she look like i might know her”

richie glances away

“uh.. not a she, actually. a he”

“i go both ways” richie shrugs as beverly’s silently asking if he’s..? not that she’d judge him but out of curiosity

“okay well, whats HE look like”

“he works at the convenience store” richie says and the second he does beverly bursts out laughing

richie’s like ???what???

“oh my god, EDDIE KASPBRAK???”

“you know him???”

“ohh boy eddie kaspbrak is the princess of this town there’s no way in hell you’re gonna get with him”

richie’s heart sinks a little 

“but hey!! theres plenty of pretty boys in this town”

richie doesnt care he wants that one

eddie’s lowkey thought of the weird guy who spilled coke all over the carpet also 

one night richie’s about to make food but realizes he’s out of french fries. and he wants to eat chicken with french fries. he cant possibly eat it with rice that he has,, he just has to eat it with french fries oh well haha what a great thing he lives next to a convenience store!!

so he goes there,, and ,, its faith its destiny or at least thats what tozier thinks eddie is working 

eddie’s stomach flips

mostly because he’s afraid he’s gonna break something again 

“hello” richie says

“…hi..” eddie says, watching as richie walks,, trying to be all cool and casual but ends up walking against a Lays shelf

eddie drops his head quickly to hide his laughter as an embarrassed richie starts gathering up the chips

he ends up taking one tho only so that he can say he “did it on purpose”

“so you’re taking chips and french fries huh???”

“well why not. i like potatoes”

“great”

“uh-huh”

richie’s just staring at eddie as he’s doing his job and eddie can feel this so his cheeks are kinda heating up 

“and a pack of green marlboros”

“right” eddie says,, remembering this from last time 

“that’ll be 10dollars”

“thanks eddie”

eddie almost chokes as the guy flashes him a smirk and is about to leave

“how do you know my name???”

richie just winks and eddie’s stomach flips again but this time its over something completely different and before eddie could ask his name richie’s out of the store already. proud w himself

richie doesnt say anything to bevvie tho even tho they hang out bc he doesnt want 1) beverly to bring him down 2) to ruin the great moment when he’s gonna tell beverly he’s got a date with eddie and see the look on her face

after a couple of days richie goes back to buy a twix bar. and more cigarettes

“hi eds” richie says as he walks in and eddie goes bright red

“do not call me eds”

richie smirks as he shuffles to the desk 

“can i have a pack of-”

eddie slams the marlboro green to the counter

richie smirks lightly

“and a twix” 

“those are in front of you” eddie snaps

“yeah i know that, you handing it to me would’ve just been a great moment to accidentally brush my fingers against yours tho” richie sighs as he grabs the twix and places it on the desk with a sweet smile

eddie’s eyes widen and he has to fake a cough 

“FIVE TWENTY, THANK YOU”

“here ya go” richie says and slides him the money

“whats your name??” eddie asks 

“oh, are you interested in knowing??”

“no, but since you somehow know mine which is kind of stalkery and creepy-”

“richie” richie says as he opens the chocolate bar wrapper and bites down to it 

eddie blinks at him

“richie”

“yeah” richie bites his chocolate again “thats me”

“you enjoying that?” eddie nods towards the twix bar that richie’s literally gorged

“i’ve had better things in my mouth but its okay”

eddie’s jaw drops lightly and he just stares at richie 

and then someone clears their throat so eddie turns his gaze to the rather pissed off looking lady behind richie and he clears his throat

“oKAY! NEXT CUSTOMER PLEASE!”

richie glances behind him 

“hey we were having a conversation here”

eddie’s eyes widen

“UH, NO WE WEREN’T!” Eddie fakes a nervous laugh “please just,, step ahead!!”

“wow, rude eds. im gonna go then”

“ooookayyyyy,,, byeeee” eddie says as he’s already beeping the next customer’s stuff but as richie walks away he still steals a glance at his back

richie just keeps on going back

everytime he buys something weird 

“a vanilla candle..”

“yes, i like the smell”

“uh-huh”

*next time*

“meatballs and popcorn? please tell me you’re not mixing these two”

“i wasnt gonna but thanks for the idea”

*next time*

“cat food? you have a cat?”

“no” 

eddie frowns

“then why would you buy cat food?”

“i wanted to see you” :’)

kaspbrak tries to ignore the butterflies he’s feeling rn

“…three thirty”

“thats some expensive kitty food. well, i hope my next door neighbor tanya will appreciate this”

“youre buying this for your neighbor??”

“yeah. she’s a nice old romani lady with three cats” richie says as he grabs the cat food and eddie starts to smile a little because thats so cute??

richie notices the smile and he just smiles back. no flirts or anything just smiles 

“see ya later alligator” richie says and eddie rolls his eyes amusedly 

“bye”

days pass by,,, richie coming in practically every day and he just doesnt even look around anymore he just grabs the first thing at hands length and puts it to the counter

batteries,, candy bags,, motorcycle magazines,, even tampons once

“…..”

“i get bad nosebleeds” 

and eddie actually lets out a chuckle. an actual ,,, true chuckle and richie gets the biggest smile

“you want your regular?” eddie asks

“huh?”

“the marlboros”

“oh no i quit” richie shrugs and eddie looks surprised

“really?”

“yeah” richie shrugs

(lowkey he quit bc he somehow found out eddie doesnt like smokers)

*eddie heart-eyes intensify*

*another time*

richie’s feeling flirty one friday and buys a pack of condoms

“yyyyello” he says as he slams the pack against the table

eddie looks at it and oh wow he feels like he’s been hit in the chest

why the hell??? he doesnt even know this guy??? yet he kinda feels like he does??? 

“who’s the lucky girl” eddie comments as he beeps the pack

“who says its a girl” richie asks and eddie gets even more pissed off now because??? hE LIKES BOYS??? THATS EVEN WORSE

“right” eddie just dramatically snaps and before he can say the price richie speaks

“im kidding i dont really wanna buy those” he says

eddie quirks a brow

“huh?”

“i dont need them”

silence

“im not having sex”

silence

“i mean i ,,, i do have sex but im not currently having sex”

“…uh huh okay, thanks for sharing this w-”

“okay im getting DESPERATE i need you to go out on a date with me”

eddie’s eyes widen as he raises both of his brows now

“im sorry what”

“yes ,,oh my god PLEASE i’ve been coming here literally every day i thought it would be obvious as im buying things like fucking,,, tampons and protein bars when you can clearly see i haven’t worked out a day in my life”

eddie starts to smile (bc thats true)

“okay”

richie’s taken aback

“huh??”

“okay, i’ll go on a date with you”

“what seriously???”

“yeah” eddie smirks but then jokingly goes serious “just… dont put tampons up your nose”

“i promise i wont i dont even- well sometimes when i do get-”

eddie raises amused brows

“sorry” richie apologizes for talking too much again

eddie grabs a piece of paper and scrabbles something before folding it and handing it to richie

(smooth finger brushing was done btw)

(eddie did it on purpose)

(which sent tingles down richie’s spine)

“i have a free day tomorrow”

“oK THATS GREAT I GOTTA GO NOW BYE” richie’s shocked™

“wait!” eddie stopped him just as richie was about to turn around

“arent you forgetting something??” he says and richie drops his gaze to the counter where eddie’s sliding the condom pack towards richie

richie could fucking cry as he looks at the smirk on eddie’s face

“i dont-” he utters out like what the FuCk Is GoiNg ON

eddie doesnt say anything just raises his brows so richie swallows and nods and grabs the pack, shakily shoving them to the back of his jeans before he gets out and looks at the paper

its got a number

and then 

eddie ,,, and a small heart after that

richie fucking SWOONS and he could do the whole breakfast club fist pump to the air 

they have their date and its lit af and awh

and on monday richie hangs out with beverly

his phone rings and he answers

“hey cutie”

beverly raises her brows

“yeah im still at the skate park.”

silence

“yeah??” richie asks “yeah sure of course!! come here. ok see you”

“who was that?” bevvie asks

richie just smirks

bc literally seconds later eddie walks over (he was just around the corner)

beverly’s mouth drops

“hey!!” eddie smiles as he makes his way over to the two of them,, leaning down to press a kiss to richie’s lips as he sits down 

“beverly,, you might know eddie” richie looks at beverly as he speaks ,, mentally saying HA HA BITCH!!!

beverly just gapes at the two of them

“hi:)” - eddie

“…hi…” beverly gives him an awkward smile

“so like,,, i was supposed to go to work today right?? but then my boss called me and wait im gonna show you this mail i was supposed to take to the post office-”

as eddie starts to grab something from his backpack and goes on with his talking,, beverly turns her shocked gaze to richie who just looks so fucking proud 

“are you serious???” beverly mouths

“ohhh yeah” richie mouths back at him

“hey babe?” richie asks 

“yeah?” eddie asks, turning his head towards richie from his backpack

“gimme another kiss” richie pouts and eddie rolls his eyes, kissing him again. richie starts jokingly planting dozens of tiny kisses on his mouth, making eddie giggle

beverly’s jaw only drops lower

they hang out for some time but once eddie leaves,, beverly speaks

“well,,, guess i was wrong” 

richie just smiles wide bc ofc she was

its reddie

how do i end this??

fuck

bye

the end

@superbyersbros@xbell22@donthateonk8@stenbroughbros@reddiebrekmyheart@itsgreywaterrichie@donvex@blueeyespurpleskies@ageorgymi@oh-youre-the-worst@eddiekaaspbraak @whipashwhipash@rissyq @richietoaster @edskasqbrak @urtury@bukiminajimu@kcutieeesblog@stansmansuris@adorefack@reddieaddict@icyeyes102@denbroughbill@graveyardshipper@taletellingsir@anxiety-freak-yuuri@rheddie@queertrashmouth@richiefreakingtozier@castletozier@tohzier@80soleff@lonewolfhard@low-key-dying@sad-synth@richietoaster@badboyharrington@beepbeep-losers@temptedtozier@kaspbraccs@kylieee827-blog @sad-synth@low-key-dying@officiallyreddie@reddietofall@stanleyboii@eternitynurarms@remushlupin@turtleneckrichie@rosegoldrichie@80srichie@asteroidbill@lonewolfhard@trashmouthgazebos@littlepointman@finnhardwolf@allison0609 @fabulousprinceali  @tatiscribbles @s-s-georgie @coralinejones @richiestoziiers @tatiscribbles

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #hcs #it 2017 #it 2017 fanfiction #how many times did eddie raise his brows in this #i dont even know #but oh well #*EYEBROW RAISE*

[5hfanfiction]

Come Back, Be Here- Chapter 52

“So you just left. Just like that?” Keana asks as she cooks her best friend some breakfast.

“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, Ke, but we need a break. She needs a chance to get her life together and find who she used to be. If I stayed in that apartment with Camila, well with the person she’s become, I’m worried it would have only led to a divorce.”

“I understand.” Keana nods her head as she transfers the scrambled eggs from the pan to a plate and then sets the plate in front of Lauren. “So when are you going back to Miami?”

“I’m not.” Lauren answers immediately. “I would never dream of leaving her in this city alone. I want to be here in case-“

“Something happens to her.” Keana finishes her sentence.

“Yeah. I have to be here in case she needs me.” Just as those words leave the brunette’s mouth, her phone rings and she looks down to see Camila’s picture on her screen. She sighs and sends the call to voicemail.

“That’s her needing you, Laur.” Keana nods her head in the direction of the phone.

“No, it’s her wanting to beg for my forgiveness and apologize for things she’s not willing to change about herself. If she really needed me, like emergency wise, I know she’d try to get in contact with you or Dinah, and then one of you would get in contact with me.” Lauren says as she picks up her fork and transfers some eggs from the plate in front of her to her mouth.

“In that case, you know you are welcome to stay here as long as you want and I won’t tell her you are here.” Keana says and Lauren nods as she swallows the mouthful of eggs.

“Thanks, Ke. I’ll pay rent I swear.” Lauren picks up her orange juice and takes a sip of it.

“Don’t bother” Keana waves her hand dismissively. “My roommate is studying abroad and she is paying half the rent. I just won’t tell her you are living here.”

The mention of studying abroad makes Lauren’s heart sink. That’s how she met Camila, the girl she thought she would never in a million years walk out on.

The girl she thought she would never in a million years catch doing drugs.

Lauren doesn’t notice that Keana had taken a seat beside her until she feels an arm wrap around her shoulders.

“It’s going to be okay, Lo. You two will get through this.” Keana promises as she guides Lauren’s head to her shoulder and places a quick kiss to the top of it.

“I hope so. I can’t live without her.” Lauren allows a sob to escape her lips and Keana just pulls her closer. She hates seeing her friend this broken.

Speaking of broken, Camila cannot seem to feel anything but complete and utter brokenness. When Lauren left, she laid on the floor of their apartment in a fetal position until the sun came up the next day. It was when the sunlight peaked through the blinds that she finally pulled herself up off the floor. However, she just moved to her bed and she didn’t leave it for a solid week. This past week has been the worst one of her life. She has not heard from Lauren and every single time she tries to call, she is sent straight to voicemail. She hasn’t eaten and she’s pretty sure her body is dehydrated from crying as much as she has.

Currently, it’s Friday, exactly a week since Lauren left her, and Camila is scouring through her purse in search of the drugs that caused Lauren to leave her in the first place. When her hands find the small vial of white powder, she immediately pulls it from her bag and empties all the contents into the toilet. Once the toilet is flushed, she keeps digging until her hands find the orange bottle containing a dozen or so blue Adderall pills. Deciding that she may need them in the future sometime to help her focus, she puts them up in her medicine cabinet instead of getting rid of them.

Once all the drugs are dealt with, she picks up her phone again and dials Lauren’s number. Three rings and then she hears Lauren’s voicemail. Truth be told, she keeps calling so she can listen to it. She remembers when she forced Lauren to make it. A small smile makes it’s way to her face when she hears it again.

Camila: You have reached Lauren’s phone, but she is busy right now.

Lauren: I’m actually not busy, I’m right here, wondering why on Earth I handed my phone to you in the first place.

Camila: You handed it to me because you love me and you trust me to give you a better voicemail than ‘please leave your name and number after the beep.’

Lauren: I do love you.

Camila: Anyways, there you have it people. Lauren can’t come to the phone because she’s too busy loving me. Not in the sexual type way of course. I mean loving me with her heart not her hands-

Lauren: Actually, we’re having sex so call back later!

Camila: LAUREN!

Beep.

When the brunette hears the beep, she ends the phone call and lets out a laugh that quickly turns into a sob. She cries until she physically cannot seem to produce anymore tears and then she drags herself from the bathroom to her bed. Camila has decided that she likes sleeping better than real life because for once in her life, her dreams are better than real life. When she had Lauren it was always the other way around, but now that the green-eyed girl has left her, the only time she gets to see her is in her dreams.

The only time she is happy now is in her dreams.

A couple of hours later she is awoken by the ringing of her phone. She blindly grabs it and answers it without looking at the caller ID.

“Lauren?” She rasps out, her voice laced with hope.

“Not Lauren, sweetie. It’s Eric.” Camila visibly deflates. “I know you are going through a rough time, but I just wanted to remind you that you have the concert tomorrow night. I expect you to be there and I expect you to be pulled together.”

“I’ll be there.” Camila informs him and then ends the phone call. His voice pisses her off more than anything. He is the reason she is even in this mess with Lauren.

She glances at the clock and realizes that it’s 9 pm so she decides to just go to sleep. Tomorrow is a new day and tomorrow she has to be Camila Cabello ,the pop-star who is in love with music and her career. She can’t be Camila Cabello-Jauregui, the girl who just lost the love of her life.

The next day is a whirlwind for Camila, she wakes up, gets dressed for the first time in a week, and heads to the Troubadour, the nightclub in LA, to rehearse for her gig tonight.

She sits down and makes out her setlist. She knows she wants to play her old songs that were on her first album, but she also talked Eric into letting her play her new ones too. When she’s finished typing the setlist, she prints it and tapes it on the stage for tonight.

1. Everything Has Changed

2. She Is Love

3. Love Incredible

4. How Would You Feel

5. Havana (New)

6. OMG (New)

7. Say You Won’t Let Go

8. Close To You (New)

Havana and OMG are two of Camila’s newest tracks. She recorded them a couple of weeks ago when she decided to start working on her second album. The last one, Close To You, is a song she wrote the day after Lauren left. She hasn’t played it for Eric or anyone else, but it’s her concert and she’s going to fucking sing it and they will get over it.

Meanwhile, Lauren and Keana are out having dinner at one of their favorite Chinese restaurants downtown.

“Are you going to go?” Keana finally speaks up, breaking the silence that has lingered between the two of them all night.

“Hmm?” Lauren finally looks up from the table and meets her friend’s worried gaze.

“I know you know what I’m talking about.” Keana presses.

Lauren lets out a heavy sigh. “If I see her the walls I’ve built up will crumble.”

“And that’s a bad thing why?” Keana leans her elbows on the table.

“Because we need time, Ke. She needs time to get better and find herself. If I just go running back into her arms like nothing happened, I’m worried nothing will be solved between us.” Lauren rubs her finger over the band on her left hand.

“But you’re miserable and you miss her.” Keana points out. “How about this, how about I go with you and we just stand in the very back, and I make sure you don’t do anything stupid like run on stage or try to go backstage to see her? She doesn’t have to know you were there, but I think it’ll make you feel better if you get to see that she alive and okay.”

Lauren checks her watch to see that it’s 6:00 pm and she knows the show starts at 7. Deciding that Keana is right, she quickly digs in her wallet and slaps a 20 dollar bill on the table.

“That’s my girl.” Keana beams as she slides out of the booth and follows Lauren out of the restaurant. They call an Uber and an hour later, they are standing in front of the concert venue.

“So you already had the tickets purchased?” Keana quirks an eyebrow when Lauren retrieves the two tickets from her jacket pocket.

“I bought them the minute they went onsale. I just didn’t know if I had the courage to actually come to the show.” The green-eyed girl confesses and Keana just nods. Once inside, they find a spot in the very back corner of the room close to the door. Since it’s general admission, they are able to stand wherever they want. When they get situated, the lights go off and the crowd goes crazy.

“Hello LA.“ Lauren hears her favorite husky voice echo through the room and her heart immediately starts hammering in her chest. "I must say, you are looking rather beautiful tonight.” Camila is wearing ripped skinny jeans and a yellow and purple Lakers jersey that is so big on her that it reaches to her knees. She’s also wearing some purple and yellow Nike High Top shoes to match her jersey and Lauren cannot take her eyes off her.

“Fuck your girl looks like a full course meal up there.” Keana whispers to Lauren. The green-eyed girl turns to her and raises an eyebrow at her friend. Keana just raises her hands in surrender. “What? It’s not like you weren’t thinking it.”

Before Lauren can reply, Camila’s voice fills her ears and she turns back toward the stage.

Her eyes do not leave Camila for one second. Lauren is absolutely mesmerized the entire concert. Camila is so good with the crowd and her voice sounds amazing. Before Lauren knows it, it’s the end of the concert and Camila is thanking the crowd for coming.

“LA, thank you so much for hanging with me tonight.” Camila’s voice breaks Lauren from her thoughts and the older brunette frowns when she realizes the concert is about to come to a close. “I have just one more song for you before I leave. I wrote it a couple of days ago and no one has heard it. Not even my manager.” She chuckles as she pulls up a stool and grabs her acoustic guitar. “It’s a song that means a whole lot to me. I hope that it’ll mean a whole lot to you too. It’s called Close To You.”

Nothing but a tear, that’s all for breakfast Watching you pretend you’re unaffected You’re pulling our connections, expecting me to let you go But I won’t

No you don’t need my protection But I’m in love, can’t blame me for checking I love in your direction, hoping that the message goes

Somewhere close to you Close to you Like so close if they heard you, you wouldn’t find out Just say now, I’m coming right now, to be close to you

Said you let it go, you kept it Working hard to perfect it Now your fear is reckless, and it’s out of your control Would you let it go?

No you don’t need my protection But I’m in love, can’t blame me for checking I love in your direction, hoping that the message goes

Somewhere close to you Close to you Like so close if they heard you, you wouldn’t find out If you let me, I’d be there by now Close to you

Camila strums the last chord on her guitar and looks out into the audience. As soon as she does, everyone claps loudly and cheers. She just smiles and blows them kiss after kiss before setting her guitar down by her stool. As her eyes are scanning the audience, she sees a brunette leaving the building, a brunette that looks almost identical to Lauren from behind. However, once the door to the club shuts, she just shrugs and blows one last kiss to the audience before exiting the stage.

It couldn’t have been her. She wouldn’t of come to my concert. Camila thinks as she high fives everyone backstage. It wasn’t Lauren. There’s no way it was Lauren. Right?

Camila spends the rest of the night trying to convince herself it was not her wife in the back of the audience at her show tonight.

Lauren, however, spends the rest of the night trying to convince herself that she did the right thing by letting Keana drag her out of the concert venue tonight before she could say anything to Camila after her set.

But they both spend all night, wide awake in their beds, thinking of the other.

#UPDATE #AU #slash #camren #angst drama #family #submission #come back be here