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#this is an inside joke but im putting it in the tags

space-writes · 4 months

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last line tag

tagged by @ahordeofwasps, thank you! have a recent horrible line from my recent horrible chapter of claws:

Ichor. There’s ichor coming out of him. Carrie White eat your heart out, there’s no plugging this up.

no-pressure tagging @artdecosupernova-writing @pens-swords-stuff and @sam-glade!

claws taglist: @belovedviolence @foxboyclit (ask to be +/-)

#tag games #writeblr #last line tag #wip: claws #this is one of those where if you know the reference you get to go OUGH about it #im having fun getting to put references in this wip #im so used to writing fantasy where i can't do any of that unless it's super subtle inside jokes with myself

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ozlices · 2 years

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i would like to genuinely keep spreading vanitas vampire endgame/vanitas will live theories, btw, but the last one i came up with abt him getting sucked into the book, & noe using his archiviste powers to rewrite him is like. thats so likely to be canon i dont think i can top it in likelihood & so i cant rly come up with any other scenario, even as a joke lol.

like especially because i really feel like if ph/vnc are meant to be connected (which i have v slowly been doing a ph re-read just to see if this is even possible, & tbh just from volume 1 alone, there’s some compelling stuff.), then the archivistes are connected to the jury somehow. either they are jury members, or they work with the jury to write the stories the jury oversees. it would all add up, esp if noe Can rewrite a person or their story into existence.

so like anyway long ramble to say. this is a vanitas will live propaganda blog still & i also think vanitas being a full fledged vampire is possible. i think there’s a chance he could be a dham, too, tbh? not my theory, a theory originally pitched on twt (afaik, at least), but that is a likely possibility. esp considering he & misha were the only survivors of moreau’s experiments. yada yada.

ANYWAY IM JS OK. VANITAS VAMPIRE ENDGAME REAL & VANITAS WILL LIVE & JUST BC IM OUT OF WAYS IT CAN BE A THING RN DOESN’T MEAN IM NOT STILL OUT HERE STUBBORNLY BELIEVING IT TO SPITE PPL OK? OK GLAD WE HAD THIS TALK

#mine #mochiverse #im not putting this in the main tags since its mostly just an inside joke psa kinda thing but yeah lmao.#i do wanna try to overanalyze the vampire vanitas magazine cover & maybe the draft sketches bc i think there is compelling stuff in there #i mean listen. we have a couple arts of vanitas being a vampire now & the biggest plot twist w oz was HEAVILY foreshadowed in official art #so like. idk if she tries to insist that magazine cover in particular was just a haha funny silly moment she's telling us smth #i mean if nothing else she wants vanoe to both be vampires & have mind blowing gay vampire s*x. clearly.#THE AMOUNT OF DRAFTS WHERE NOE IS THERE IS STILL SO WILD.#anyway........ i just wanted to say this ok cool glad we had this chat

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attractedtopeoples · 4 months

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Johnnie Guilbert NSFW Headcanons

NSFW Alphabet

Tags/Warnings: mdni, smutty/suggestive stuff below the cut, don’t like don’t read, written with afab reader in mind but barely mentioned

Jake’s Version Here, Tara’s version here

A/N: I have fallen down a rabbit hole of Johnnie and Jake (and Tara), im going insane.

Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I fell like he’s rather drowsy but still making sure your taken care of, you want a bath- done, water- done. He loves taking care of you- even if he was struggling to walk or stay awake.

On the other hand, I feel like he’d be really shy in terms of receiving aftercare- not entirely used to it.

Body Part (their favourite of their partners, and their favourite of their own)

He Loves your thighs- not explaining it too much, but his favourite place is between them- whether your legs are around his waist, or his head is in between your legs- he loves it. If you have afab anatomy- trust me he’ll leave bruises from how hard hes squeezing your thighs (and then apologise later when he realises, no matter how much you say you liked it)

He likes his own hands, because he knows what he can do with them (this man knows how to use his hands (and tongue) it’s actually insane)

Cum (anything to do with cum)

Not a fan of the mess when he pulls out, but always respects your wishes if y’all don’t have a condom and u don’t want him to finish inside. Although he does love to eat you out after fucking you, both your cum mixing kn his tongue, then kissing you like theirs no tomorrow where you can taste yourselves too.

Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves his hair being pulled, he never says it nor admits it, but if you tug on his hair whilst he’s eating you out- trust me he could finish just from eating you out. It isn’t a degradation thing, more of the subtle pain thing that only makes him feel pleasure.

Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doin)

He’s not very experienced (like barely experienced) but he’s still knows exactly how to touch you- not because of videos or other things like that, but he’s good at observing and noticing what makes you feel good, and what doesn’t.

Favourite Position (goes without saying I think)

He’s a simple man, and loves missionary. Being able to tuck his head into your neck and give you more hickeys, your hand in his hair as he fucks you. The dream.

Goofy (are they more serious or silly in the moment)

I think he’d be more serious but would definitely still make jokes as long as he knew you were comfortable with them in the situation.

Hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc)

He doesn’t go out of his way to do anything down there, but he’ll keep it trimmed if he’s feeling fancy.

Doesn’t give a single fuck if you shave or not, seriously could not care less.

He’s a natural blonde hun, but they’re still a touch darker.

Intimacy (are they romantic during the moment?)

He’s romantic in the sense that he keeps you close, and consistently makes you feel good (if that makes sense). It’s not like consistent love confessions, more like soft touches and gentle words whispered into your ear.

Jack Off (Masturbation hcs)

Wayyyyy too shy to actually go up and tell you when he’s turned on, so he ends up either having s cold shower or a hot moment in the bathroom more often than not, but after a while I think he’d get more comfortable with telling you.

About twice a week at a minimum.

Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise (receiving)- more along the lines of reassurance, just the knowledge that he’s making you feel good is endlessly hot to him.

Switch- not explaining.

Hickeys/Lovebites/Marks- both receiving and giving, although he’s rather careful with his placement, especially if he knows you have things to do or nothing to cover them with in that area. He doesn’t care at all where you put them other than his neck, Jake teases him and he sucks at covering them properly (Tara has helped him out more than once ngl)

Location (preference of place during)

Basic bitch but likes the privacy of the bedroom, and just being in your own bed.

He’s down for what you want most of the time though- unless it’s something to do with being in a more public area where ppl could be, that ain’t really for him.

Motivation (what turns them on)

I feel like he’s a sucker for physical affection, like you lean up against him, or push back against him whilst you guys cuddle/have a movie night- and he tries to ignore it most of the time too (shy boy).

Also he doesn’t really get turned on but he gets really flustered by pet names (not weird ones, but ‘darling’ or ‘love’ never fail to make him blush)

No (something they wouldn’t do, or turn offs)

Anything public, values the privacy of the moment, and gets too jittery when there’s a chance of getting caught.

Anything that’d hurt you, not the smaller things like little lovebites or tugging your hair if you asked, but other stuff like spanking and shit just isn’t his thing, the idea makes him confused and uncomfy with the idea of seriously injuring you.

Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

King of giving head, tell me I’m wrong I dare you. I won’t elaborate bc I don’t feel the need to, but he doesn’t mind receiving- would never ask but would never say no yk.

Pace (self explanatory I think, the pace they go at during sex)

Depends on his partner, again- more of an adaptive person in terms of what he does in the moment, prefers to find what makes you feel good.

Quickie (their opinions on quickies)

Not a fan, wouldn’t say no, but prefers to have more time with each other, and again he’s not a fan of the risk that comes with doing it somewhere they could get caught.

Risk (are they down to experiment and try new things, do they take risks when horny, etc)

Definitely down to try most of the things you suggest, fine with some experimentation.

Again, as I’ve said, dislikes the risk of getting caught or doing it anywhere where someone could hear/walk in.

Stamina (how many rounds can they go?, how long do they last?)

About 2-3 rounds before he needs a second, but if you are still good to go he’s fine to give you (the best) head until he can continue or you tire out.

Toys (do they own them? do they use them?)

Doesn’t own a lot, not bc if a dislike for them, he just never had a use for them. If you had/wanted some he’d be willing and/or supportive. 👍

Unfair (do they tease? If so how much?)

Not the biggest tease, but 🤷, if he’s feeling like it then he feels Ike it.

Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make? etc)

Not overly loud, more quieter noises into your ear most of the time, or words muttered/whispered under his breath.

I don’t Care for describing sounds, but feel free to imagine however you’d like

Wild Card (a random hc for them)

Loves it when you play with his rings absentmindedly. It’s such a small thing but he finds it so oddly domestic. He doesn’t know why he finds it so nice, but he’s never told you to stop and he doesn’t plan too.

X-Ray (what’s going on under those clothes)

6.5 inches and pretty. I won’t explain any further.

#F0E4D1 > #EFCEC3

Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I’d say slightly above average, but again he’s rather shy with this information, and prefers to make jokes about it or just not mention it at all.

Probably about 2-3 times a week, but could easily go higher with the right circumstances

Zzz (how quick do they fall asleep afterwards?)

Refuses to sleep until your comfy, but will be absolutely knocked out after that (bonus if your hands are carding softly through his hair)

#18+ mdni #mdni #lily’s thoughts #fandom: youtube rpf #don’t know if there’s a fandom name for these two #divider by cafekitsune #divider by animatedglittergraphics n more #divider by saradika #I love dividers #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert smut #smut

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coolaboutlucy · 3 months

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𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 | 𝙚. 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙨

pairing: nepo baby!business owner!ellie williams x afab!business owner!reader

tags: smut, fingering (r receiving), pet names/name calling?? (dirty girl, pretty, good girl, baby), slight praise??, god why is tagging so hard, mild language, unethical business practices??, thoughts are green, ellie lowk an asshole, but both reader and ellie are pretty harsh to eachother, maybe that’s it, bare with me if i forget something pls. 😭🙏

a/n: i wrote this directly on tumblr bc i did NAWT feel like pulling up google docs today saur the format might be a lil off. i was watching this show on netflix called ‘locked up’, and like an episode from season two is what inspired this!!! 😜 the show is good honestly it just drags on sometimes!!! ive actually never actually written smut any times before this (believe it or not hehe) anyways, let’s get into it!!!

P.S - DEDICATED TO @sweetysaccharine YAWP YAWP!!!! <333 HOPE U ENJOY POOKIEEEE

P.P.S - don’t look at the typos or i will find you (IM JOKING)

rumors traveled fast, and sometimes it wasn’t always good. for one, they could be infuriating. a company you’d been toe to toe with for.. quite some time had gotten a new ceo. some young girl. articles appeared online about some kinda nepotism scandal. the photo on the top of the article displayed a photo of the previous ceo — joel miller, and the new owner, ellie. they looked happy. but why were they accused of something as harmful as nepotism? long story short, joel turned his brother down for the position (even though he was the better option) so ellie could have it. favoritism of sorts. but god was she infuriating! her stupid, flashy displays of wealth (that probably didn’t even belong to her) made you so mad! and also, her arrogance and her constant need to compete with you was very infuriating aswell. you had influence, she had money. wouldn’t these things be considered as a double kill in some perfect world? yes. would you ever even consider working with someone like her? absolutely not. you couldn’t even stand being in the same vicinity as her whenever you two ended up at the same social events.

imagine that terrible, ugly feeling of anger that coursed hot through your veins once finding out she’d brought possibly one of the biggest clients you could’ve ever had. it was one thing for her to shove it in your face that she was wealthy but this? she’d completely overstepped. storming your way through the companies large building, you find yourself at her offices door knocking like a madwoman. “open the goddamn door, williams!” you yell as you attempt to open the door on your own. she doesn’t say anything, but you’re just almost certain she’s smirking or something. she opens the door with this.. look. it was weird. a perfect mixture of condescending, arrogance, and ‘i know what i did and i don’t regret it’. “are you insane?” “mm.. yeah. i guess so.” you laugh, dumbfounded by her. “how bout you come into my office for a seat and a drink?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “let’s handle this civilly, shall we? knowing you, i have the feeling that this could get real ugly.” she pushed open the door with that same condescending/arrogant smile. of course, reluctantly, you walk inside. maybe this could be resolved civilly.

the sound of some smooth music played. it sounded like micheal buble or something. she walks around her desk to pour you a glass of bourbon. she hands it to and you just hold it. “it’s not poisoned, see?” she says before taking a sip. you take a sip and of it before putting the glass on her desk. “so, i realized that.. i have something you want.” the something being that client. “why else would i be here? that was a really petty move and you know that.” she chuckled. “yknow, i could just.. refer them back to you.” initially, you’re in disbelief. ellie? being generous? no way. she must’ve completely lost it. “but! it comes with a price.” of course it does. nothing was free, not in this economy. you kept your expectations low for this very reason. you raise an eyebrow at her. “we could work together. become business partners.”

she turns her music up a little. she dances her way over to you, circling you a bit. “no chance, ellie. how could i ever work with someone like you?” she chuckled again. “why wouldn’t you work with ‘someone like me’? you have something that i want aswell.” “what?” “power. influence. however you may wanna word it. i admire that.” it had to be some sick joke. why would she wanna work with you? “shouldn’t all your daddys money be more than enough to keep you in a position of power?” you quarry, then crossing your arms. a part of you didn’t believe that she’d been the one asking you for help.

“just think about it. me, giving you money. you, drawing power hungry clients in with that pretty face of yours. we’d work together like yin and yang.” she proposed before taking another sip of the drink in her glass. that was her giving a go at an analogy. was it good? she didn’t know. did she care? not at all. “you bullshitting me, williams?” “not at all. all you gotta do.. is say ‘yes’. cmon.” she offers her hand, those pretty slender fingers and that tattoo that peeking from underneath that black button up shirt were just so.. enticing. you were in your head, just thinking. was this a good idea? could i trust her? she probably has bad intentions. but she was so tempting. this had to be one of the seven deadly sins or something.

she snaps infront of your face. “where’d you go?” she asks. “nowhere.” you respond quickly. “so, you taking the offer or not? or.. will i have to convince you?” she takes a step closer to you. temptation taints your brain.

you’re not in control of your thoughts anymore. ellie was.

her hand seeks solace on your waist. “shouldn’t finding business like this be considered illegal?” you whisper to her. “im not a law abiding woman. and quite frankly, i don’t give two shits.” maybe it wouldn’t be illegal if nobody knew. but all you thought about was her. how she smells. how she’s looking at you. how her hands feel on your body. you can’t stop yourself. your lips crash down onto hers. your fingers tangle in her auburn hair as the both of you kiss passionately. she brings you to her desk, knocking stuff over as she sat you on her desk.

glass shattered, pictures were knocked out of their frames, and her computer mouse was.. somewhere. your back arches into her touch as you let out a soft moan into her mouth. she takes the opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth. in the competition of dominance between your tongues, she reigns supreme. her hands slide up your body and end up on your oxford button up shirt. she doesn’t unbutton it, she rips that shit open. “i’ll get you a new one.” she mumbled as the buttons from the shirt scatter across the room.

“you’d better. or else id have to come back here and get it by force.” “oh please, you’ll be back here for more reasons than a goddamn shirt.” she said as she peppers kisses down to your jawline, then your neck. “don’t leave any marks.” “but why?” “oh, i dunno, cause i don’t want anyone asking me who i had sex with?” “who gives a shit? your workers get paid to look the other way, don’t they?”

well, she makes a good point. and you can’t argue with a point as valid as that. she sinks her teeth into a sweet spot of your neck, making you moan out as she runs her tongue along the new mark. she sticks her tongue out again to run it all the way down to one of your boobs. the sensation makes you shiver. “wore this pretty bra for me, didntcha? you were just expecting this. you must’ve wanted me to touch you like this, didn’t you? dirty girl. must’ve been waiting for me to bend you over this table.” she rambled all while stripping you of your bra, then leaving soft kisses and licks across the valley of your breasts.

she takes her time, making you wait for it. she knew what she was doing to you, and she was going to make you wait. “ellie, you’re going soo slow! you know what i want.” you whine as she leaves kisses and bites all over your exposed skin. “tell me what you want or you’ll get nothing. tell me where you want me.” she whispered. “i want your fingers.” “where?” “you know where.” “tell me or you get nothing.” you hesitate for a moment before saying feebly. “in.. in my pussy..” “that’s a good girl.”

she smiles as she pushes her hands into your slacks. she could feel your wetness. “i got you this worked up, huh? who knew little miss perfect could get this wet over me, a ‘nepo baby’?” she teased with a cocky smile. she slowly slides your slacks and underwear all the way down to your ankles before she applies a delicious amount of pressure to your clit. you gasp, your hand wrapping around her wrist. “oh, you like that do you, huh? you want more? fucking beg for it. cmon.” she applies more pressure to your clit, rubbing small and soft circles as her fingers ghost your sopping entrance. “oh— please ellie, i need more. give me more.” “gonna take more than that, baby.” you whine when she suddenly takes all that pressure away from you.

you let out another whine as you attempt to rut against her hand. her free hand slaps your thigh as she shakes her head in disapproval. “none of that. keep still. you get nothing until you beg like a good girl.” “please, please. ill do anything. just please touch me.” she chuckles at you. she found it cute how you were so desperate to chase that pleasure. “god, you’re so desperate. you need it so.. goddamn bad, don’t you?” she lets out a grunt in the middle of her sentence as she suddenly plunged into your pussy.

as she moves her fingers, she groans at how wet her you were. first she starts with middle finger, then adding her ring finger. her long fingers are hitting that sweet spot in you. she was making you see stars. “listen to yourself. look at ‘er, she’s crying for me.” she coos as she speeds her pace. you moan out. “watch me, baby.” you slowly look down at her fingers plunging in and out of you. sounds of wet squelching fill your ears. you bite your lip and you toss your head back as you let out a moan. you grind yourself down onto her fingers, chasing that wonderful and blissful orgasm.

you felt a pressure building up in your stomach. your eyes were fluttering open and shut. everytime you looked away, she stopped. you made sure to not look away. once that pressure in your stomach felt like it was gonna release, your moans became more broken. “ellie! ellie— oh fuck! ellie! im gonna cum! don’t stop, please don’t stop!” you say between moans as you bring your hand back down to hold her wrist in place.

“oh yeah? gonna cum? let go for me. make a mess on my fingers. cmon. i know you can do it.” she said as she kept her pace at that same one that was making you see stars. she’d been rambling something to you, talking you through it as she watched you cum all over her fingers. she helps you ride out your orgasm, a slight tremble in your legs becoming more apparent.

“what do we say?” “thank you.” she smiled as she pulled her fingers out. the sudden loss makes you whine. she sucks her fingers clean and you watch as her tongue runs across the length of her fingers. “still being a tease, williams?” you ask as you look at her while she does it. “mm.. well no, i dont think so. just savouring how good you taste.” when she was finally satisfied, she drops her hands. “so, you finally ready to stop being so stubborn and take the deal?” “not a chance if it means we get to have sex like this.” you respond with a chuckle. “maybe you need to be fucked again, hm?” she ask with a smile.

needless to say, you’d went another time, and on the third you fucked ellie. eventually you come to some sort of agreement after you’d been laid on her leather sofa, naked and feeling like you were floating. the only question you had now is what the hell had you gotten into. “will this turn into a scandal?” you ask. “.. probably not if we keep this under wraps.” she responds as she puts her head in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses to it. “plus, yknow i can just pay the media off right? they won’t say anything. not a peep.” she reassured as she smiled softly.

#wlfabby #tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us part two #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie x you #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #ellie x afab!reader #ellie smut #tlou x reader smut

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ateezscupid · 1 year

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switch yunho x f!reader? 😁

𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 ✩ 𝗃.𝗒𝗁 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

plot - yunho has a problem, and to solve it, he needs to lose his virginity—to you.

genre + warnings - switch!yunho, switch!reader, non!idol au, college au, vanilla sex, aphrodisiacs used, humping, masturbation, oral, fingering (f receiving), handjob, blowjob, praising, light choking, overstimulation, unprotected sex, if i missed anything lmk!

wc - 4.3k (?)

tags - @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna

a/n - I JUST REALIZED MY TUMBLR GLITCHED WHEN I POSTED THIS? i missed an entire part, oh my god.

“dude, hongjoong just gave me these weirdo blue cookies.” mingi shoved the box toward yunho.

“what the hell? i’d expect that type of shit from wooyoung, not joong.” yunho laughed as he plopped onto the couch. mingi walked over and sat down next to him, handing him the box.

“apparently they’re cookies that make you super horny. i don’t get why hongjoong needed them though since he’s…not dating anyone. and he doesn’t even have anyone to hookup with. i guess delusion is what keeps him going.” mingi chuckles to himself as he leans back.

“cookies that make you horny… like aphrodisiacs? dudee, we should put some of these in yeosang’s lunch box tomorrow. he’s gonna need them for his girlfriend!”

“does his girlfriend even know what he looks like without clothes on?” mingi raised an eyebrow.

“i dunno, but he needs them.” yunho sat the box of cookies on the coffee table and groaned loudly, leaning back on the couch so much he almost slid off.

“i’m so bored, there’s nothing to do.”

“well, i have something to do.” mingi cackled quietly. “this girl in my math class invited me over to study for a test we have tomorrow and i already know we’re gonna hookup. i’m bringing three condoms just in case.”

“why the hell do you need three condoms if you’re only going one round?” yunho asked him. he was so innocent.

“who goes only one round? i’m not surprised; you’re not familiar with stuff like that since you are a virgin. there’s not one girl in this school who’s willing to get laid by you.”

“i��i don’t wanna have sex with a random person! that’s a you thing, mingi. not a me thing.” yunho sighed.

“im just saying!” mingi stood. “why don’t you call your tutor over? what’s her name…y/n? you have a fat crush on her, invite her over and you’ll be fine.”

“if i invite her over here, she’s gonna force me to do work and i’m not in the working mood right now. i wanna lay down and binge watch cringey reality tv shows.” yunho rolled his eyes. mingi shrugs and turns around, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.

“well, if you do change your mind and invite her over, don’t do it on my bed. i just washed my sheets and i don’t want there to be cum stains or whatever.”

“dude, shut up!” yunho through a balled up piece of paper at him. mingi stuck his tongue out then left the dorm, leaving yunho alone.

he stares at the cookie box on the table and ponders. the box looked really beaten up and old, and when he shook it, it didn’t sound like there were many inside of the box. maybe mingi was playing a prank on him or something. yunho thought aphrodisiacs expired in 2010, but he was clearly wrong.

he picks up the box of cookies and opens it. the cookies were blue, not surprising. they did seem a title hard, but he didn’t know if it was because of the aphrodisiacs or if it was because the cookies were old. there wasn’t even an expiration date on the box.

“blue cookies…” yunho repeated to himself as if he didn’t believe it. “blue cookies that make you horny. he must be joking.”

so, out of curiosity, yunho digs his hand inside and takes out six cookies. he sits the box back on the cookie table and looks at the cookies in his hand. they did look delicious, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’s eaten something stale or expired. plus, he was craving cookies.

without hesitation, yunho eats the cookies one by one. he couldn’t tell if the aphrodisiacs had done something to him or not. he felt fine, and his body temperature remained normal. yunho chuckled to himself and shook his head, standing up and walking to his bedroom. he really just ate cheap cookies that hongjoong gave him and mingi. he knew it was too good to be true.

yh: hey hongjoong, whered you get those blue cookies from they were good

hj: blue cookies? idk what you’re talking abt

yh: mingi said you gave him horny blue cookies? dude he told me earlier

hj: huuhhhh

hj: OHHHHH THOSE COOKIES

yh: YEAH THOSE COOKIES whered you get them from they were good

hj: … you ate them?

yh: they’re cookies, wtf am i supposed to do

hj: yunho those are aphrodisiac cookies they’re gonna make u hard as hell for hours

yh: mingi told me that too but i’m fine

hj: dude omg these cookies are different, u don’t feel it right away how many did you eat

yh: like 5 or 6

hj: i’m gonna fucking kill tou

yh: YOU CANT EVEN SPELL HOW ARE YOU GONNA KILL ME

hj: YOU WERE ONLY SUPPOSED TO EAT ONE, ONE IS ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU HORNY AS HELL OH MY GOD

yh: ohhh

yh: did i do a bad

hj: i’m gonna hurt you

yh: so basically what ur saying is i’m fine

hj: what i’m saying is you need to find someone to fuck, otherwise ur gonna be horny for days dude and that’s not good

yh: who the hell am i gonna fuck?? i’m a virgin im sure nobody wants me

yh: hongjoong?

yh: OH MY GOD ANSWER YOUR PHONE

yunho sighed to himself and threw his phone. he was starting to feel the effects of the aphrodisiac and knew he was in trouble. not only that, but he called you and asked if you come come over to help him study. he couldn’t study while being rock hard, he’d be distracted. that, and he’d be sneaking glances down your shirt whenever he could.

“fuck fuck fuck,” he mumbled to himself and stands up, walking to the corner he threw his phone in and picking it up. 5:50. he knew mingi would be gone for a long time, and you were coming in ten minutes. he had time.

yunho kept checking the time while he walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and pulling down his pants and boxers. he shuddered just from the fabric sliding off his cock. he was that sensitive.

now he needed something to think about. he could’ve just jerked off and came right away, considering how sensitive he was, but he preferred thinking about something that would normally get him turned on. so, he thought about you.

yunho closed his eyes, wrapping his hand around his cock and flinching at the feeling. he couldn’t even stand the feel of his own hand without feeling the urge to cum. he knew it was going to be a long night.

he brings his hand up to his tip. he runs his thumb across the tip, leaning forward slightly and cursing under his breath. he needed more. his hand obviously felt good, but not good enough. he looks around the bathroom for anything that could help him, and sees his towel hanging on the shower rod.

yunho grabs it then leaves his bathroom. he shuffles back over to his bed and places the towel down, getting on top and aligning his hips. he places a pillow in front of him and lays down it, beginning to push and pull his hips like a mad man.

his fingers desperately gripped the bed sheets for some sort of support as he tried relieving himself. he already felt himself wanting to cum onto the towel, and all he was doing was thinking of you.

from your pretty eyes to your chest, where’d he’s sneak glances down your shirt from time to time. he’s always wondered what it would be like to just touch you. it didn’t matter in what way, he just needed his skin to be in contact with yours. your skin was so soft, and you always smelled like really expensive perfume. your smell was infecting him and he had no complaints.

“please, oh fuck, please…” he whines into the pillow in front of him, gripping the bed sheets the tightest he possibly could. he felt himself beginning to burst already, all he needed were a few more thrusts and he’d be good to go.

and he was right. a few more thrusts. a few more thrusts caused yunho to explode on the towel, his cum splattering onto it as he mewled into the pillow. his breath hitched in his throat and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. he needed that, but yet, he still needed more. he still felt hot.

so, he had no other choice but to force himself back down onto the pillow and continue thrusting. he obviously couldn’t ignore the overstimulation he felt, but he was willing to go through anything just to get rid of this feeling. as good as it made him feel, it was painful. the entire time, he was wondering how you would touch him. he couldn’t lie. he’s fantasized about you two doing intimate things a lot. so much so, sometimes he wouldn’t be able to focus during some tutoring session.

would you have palmed him through his pants? god, he could see you doing it. moving your soft, gentle hands over his bulge, rubbing your thumb over the wet spot in his boxers from his pre-cum. using your fingers to hold his cock and stroke his cock roughly. he could’ve came from these thoughts alone.

what if you had taken off your shirt in front of him? unbuttoning your favorite button up and letting him fondle your breasts. every glance he snuck down your shirt made him want you even more each time. your breasts were so pretty to him. he wanted to suck on them just once. he wished somebody you’d be in his bed, your hand in his pants or the other way around. god, he didn’t know if he wanted to pin you down, or if he wanted you to pin him down.

yunho came a good two more times before you arrived in front of his dorm room. he immediately jumps up, pulling his boxers and shorts up then sprinting to the door. but he needed to calm himself down. his face had sex splattered all over it, or he had the face of someone who had just eaten two jars of aphrodisiac cookies. speaking of the cookies, he may or may not have eaten two more just for the fun of it.

and in the heat of the moment.

there weren’t any words to describe the feeling he had. he was so sensitive, he could barely move but he tried his hardest. he opens the door and looks you up and down, not realizing he licked his lips at the sight of you.

“um, okay? i guess that’s a nice way to greet me.” you nod and walk past him, placing your backpack on the couch then sitting down next to it.

“i didn’t bring anything because i know you have some old worksheets somewhere. and you still have a computer,” you point at the one on the tv stand. “so we can use your computer instead of me going back to my dorm to get mine!”

“i’m, um,” yunho was definitely listening to you, but everything was registering to him slowly. “uh, uh, yeah! yeah,”

“you good? you’re sweating a whole lot and-“

“i’m fine! could never be better! you want a water? i’ll get you a water, you look thirsty! and uh, uh, i’ll get you an orange. we have oranges! you want an orange?”

“yunho, it’s fine. i brought my own-“

“i’ll get you an orange!” and with that, he rushes to the kitchen. he waits for you to avert your attention away from him before he rushes into the pantry. judging his behavior, something was wrong with him. you pat your hands on your knees and bite your lip. it shouldn’t take this long to get a drink.

when looking around the looking room, you notice a box on the ground. you stand and walk over to it, picking it up and looking inside of it. the box had a few cookies in it. you wanted to eat one but wanted to ask yunho. but before you even had the chance to do that, you saw the name on the box and heard a noise from the pantry.

“aphrodisiac cookies…” you mumble to yourself then whip your head toward the pantry. those weren’t just random noises, those were moans. you facepalmed.

“is he really jerking off in the pantry…” you shake your head and drop the box of cookies, walking into yunho’s kitchen and opening the door to the pantry. you couldn’t have been any more correct. he was leaning against the wall, pants down to knees and his hand wrapped around his cock. he was too caught up to realize you were standing right there.

“jeong yunho!” you yelled his name, causing him to jump and look at you. “how many of those fucking cookies did you eat?”

“i-i—look, i didn’t know those cookies were gonna make me horny! i-i thought they were regular cookies! if you’re gonna blame anyone, blame hongjoong!—“

“that’s not what i asked you. i asked you how many cookies you’ve had.” you squint your eyes.

“i-i had like—six or eight? i don’t know, i can’t remember, i feel like i’m gonna burst. y/n please help, everything hurts—“

“i…” you groan and pull him out of the pantry. he rushed to pull his shorts up as you dragged him toward his room, though he didn’t have to since they were gonna be off in the next few minutes.

“you really have me sucking you off because you ate some damn drug cookies.” you scratch your head and push him onto the bed.

“stop talking and do something, please,” he begs. your eyes trail down his body and make it to his cock. one thing was for sure, he was big. “fuck, did you always smell this good? you smell really good.”

“i didn’t even put on perfume today, what are you smelling?” you say as your hand moves against his cock softly, fingers poking his tip. his entire body tensed from the feeling.

“i smell everything. y/n, stop teasing me and do something, i feel like i’m gonna die! i could die! i-i could die if we don’t do anything!”

“jeong yunho, i will leave you in this bedroom with blue balls if you don’t shut up.” you stare him dead in the eyes and immediately curl your fingers around his cock. yunho lurched forward and moaned loudly, thighs shaking and his lips trembling.

“fuck fuck fuck, i’m gonna-“ he came all over your hand. you backed up a bit since you didn’t want any to get on your shirt.

“yunho, i didn’t even move my hand yet.” you sigh and take your hand off of him, bringing it up to your mouth and licking the cum off of it. “i assume that’s all you needed, right?—“

“that’s not even the only time i’ve cum, please. i really can’t- i just- please let me feel you.” he reached his hand out and grabs your wrist, pulling you closer and making you straddle him. he wraps his arms around your waist and begins kissing you all over your neck and chest.

“yunho, calm down-“

“cant, i need you, please…” he dug his nails into your shirt, whimpering quietly with each kiss he gave you.

“okay yunho, okay. what do you want me to do? or, what do you wanna do to me?”

without saying a word, he turns around on the bed and throws you down. his hands ran all over your body. god, he couldn’t get over how soft your skin was. he was so obsessed with you in the best way possible. his hands move underneath your shirt and he starts fondling your breasts, his thumbs pressing down on your nipples.

you held onto his wrist for a few moments until he went down your body and started unbuckling your jeans. once down, he pulls them down and throws them elsewhere before diving in between your legs. he didn’t bother taking your underwear off. he pushed them to the side and dove in, lips attached to your clit.

“holy fu—“ a tingling sensation coursed through your body. yunho made sure to look up a few times to catch your expression change. this was way better than what he’s been thinking about.

“y-yunho, slow down! f-fuck, i’m not going—oh my god,” you couldn’t even form a full sentence. having him stick his tongue between your folds made you spill incoherent words out of your mouth. he had you wondering how many other women he’s been with to be this good. but, it couldn’t have been many women? you could’ve sworn he was a virgin? unless he was lying.

“please, yunho please,” you begged, hands tangled in his hair. “fuck, i’m gonna cum…”

“please do it.” he mumbles against your clit. the pleasure had become too much and you literally exploded on his face, back arching off of the sheets with your face scrunching from the power of your orgasm. but even after cumming, he still needed more from you.

he throws your legs over his shoulders and locks his arms around them, attempting to hold you still while he continued eating you out. he just never caught a break. you were sensitive after your orgasm and knew he was going to overstimulate the hell out of you. you pushed his head back and stared at him for a moment. just looking into his eyes, you could tell he was desperate.

“how…fuck,” you had to catch your breath before speaking. “how many girls did you have to sleep with for you to be able to do that…”

“none.” he said quickly, bringing his hand up and sticking two fingers inside of you without warning. your body jolted and you looked down at his fingers, moaning softly due to the feeling. “can you squirt? i wanna see if you can squirt.”

“y-yunho, wait—“ your thighs begin to shake as yunho hums against your thigh, fingers moving at an accelerated pace. he wanted to make you cum, he wanted you to cum on his fingers so he knew he was doing a good job. yunho could tell you were close because of your moans growing louder and louder.

“f-faster, please!” you cry out. he did so without hesitation, curling his fingers to press on your g-spot. just by that one action, the knot in your stomach begins to unravel. you feel yourself beat up as your thighs clench around his face, trapping him between them as a large amount of liquid left your body. he helped you through your orgasm by moving his fingers faster, his free hand on your stomach to feel you.

once you came down from your high, he took his fingers out of you and sucked on them. he crawls up and kissed you, littering your face and neck with kisses. while he wasn’t looking, you use your hand to grab his cock, gently rubbing his tip and watching his face contort in pleasure.

“y/n, y/n wait…” he whined, falling back on the bed and grabbing a pillow. he wraps his arms around it and hugs it. his pretty moans mixed with the slick, wet sounds coming from him rang in your ears. and you couldn’t get enough of it. it only encouraged you to move your hand faster. you smile and get on top of him, now using both hands.

“p-please, let me inside.” his hips were between your legs when you straddled him, his erection rubbing against your heat. you needed a few seconds to calm your body down before realizing what he meant.

“uh uh, my turn.” you hold onto his shoulders and use every muscle in your body to flip him over. he was on his back and you were on top of him.

“let me suck you off, then i’ll let you in.”

“please, fuck, i can’t wait any longer just-“

you put a finger to his lips. he shuts up immediately and watched as you go down his body, leaving kisses wherever you could. once his cock was right in front of your face, you couldn’t help but give it a small lick. he shuddered from your action.

“fuck, how sensitive are you?” you chuckle, now bringing your hand to wrap around his length. he didn’t bother answering. he threw his head back and groaned, his cock twitching in your hand.

the sight before him could’ve made him cum on the spot. seeing you lay between his legs, your feet swinging back and forth behind you, and the arch of your back made him hornier. you could feel his gaze on you as you licked all along his erection, giggling softly and sending vibrations through his body.

he completely melted in your touch, his groans echoing throughout the bedroom. he was using everything in him not to cum on the spot. you couldn’t lie, he tasted amazing. you’d do this all day if he let you.

“f-fuck, your mouth…i love your mouth, s’good…” he whimpers while sitting up on his elbows, head thrown back and his cock twitching constantly in your mouth. you gently take him out of your mouth and kiss his tip gently, now moving your hands to bring him closer to the edge.

“are you gonna cum? is my pretty boy gonna cum?” you smile. you stared at yunho intently, watching his body break down from the overstimulation. it wasn’t surprising since he said he’s came more than five times today.

“please,” he begged. “f-faster, let me cu—f-fuck, please! please please please,” his cheeks were flushed, and you couldn’t help but coo.

“go ahead and cum, pretty.” his hips violently thrust into your hand. those cookies were doing so much to him, he couldn’t focus.

“f-fuck!” he cries out. “c-cumming, i’m cumming—i’m gonna-“ he finally let go, cumming all over your hand. you slowed your strokes to not overstimulate him before backing away.

“you did so well for me, yuyu.” you spoke softly, gently rubbing his thigh as you waited for him to come down from his high. he slowly sits up and smiles at you. he was still hard, and still pulsing.

“are you sure you wanna keep going?” you tilt your head. “and, um, if this is gonna be your first time then, i don’t know, i think you should reconsi-“

he pulls you up from underneath your arms and sits you on his lap. “if it’s you, i don’t care. now please, i feel like my dick is gonna bust.”

“oh my god, okay.” you smile and lift your hips, lining him up then sinking down onto his cock. yunho watched as you swallowed his length entirely, it disappeared completely and he couldn’t help but moan from the sight. you almost collapsed on top of him trying to control yourself. it’s been so long since you felt this way. you needed this.

“can i move?” your hands run across his chest, lightly scratching. yunho didn’t say anything. he was focusing on not cumming inside of you, you sucked him in like a vacuum.

“yunho?” you lean down. “i’ll lay on my back, so you can move. okay?”

“wait, just—wait,” he moans softly. he finally pulled himself together and gripped onto your hips, flipping the two of you over again so he was hovering over you. your hands wrap around his neck and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth.

“you feel so fucking good,” he groans. “fuck, i wanna stay like this forever.”

“we can, yunho,” you moan breathlessly. “please move.”

he didn’t start slow. just as you told him to move, he started snapping his hips against yours, the sounds of your skin colliding echoing around the room, just like your moans. you throw your head back and moan, pulling him down and pressing your lips against his. each time his cock drives in and out of you, his name slipped out your mouth.

the both of you were lost in the moment, moaning into each others mouths and chasing your high. yunho backs away from your face and pushes his in your neck, kissing and biting softly. everyone was going to know you were his, now.

yunho grabs the underside of your knee and pushes your leg back further, now thrusting at an angle that made you feel dizzy. your back arched off the bed and his movements became rougher. he was so close.

“y/n, y-y/n, where do i…w-where do i cum?” he pants in your ear. “f-fuck, i’m so close.”

“i-inside! p-please please please,” you begged. and with the last few stuttering thrusts, you feel him basically explode inside of you. you tightened around his cock as you came the same time, repeating his name as if you were a broken record.

you make sure to hold onto him the tightest you possibly could, taking in the moment while moaning loudly. you weren’t sure about what to say or what to do, it was like he fucked the breath out of you. he cuddles against your body, breathing heavily in your ear while trying to stop his body from shaking.

“y/n, please stay with me…” he whimpers in your ear. “love you so much, i love you, stay, please.”

“don’t worry, i’ll stay.”

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kaylinelizabeth4004 · 8 months

Text

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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ncteez · 10 months

Note

helloooo! i’m a relatively new follower (and a relatively new carat!) and congratulations on your milestone! for your sleepover event can i please request mingyu and 98 from the prompt list? i feel like you could make it as fluffy or as dirty as you like 😆

mingyu + “I never thought I’d hear you say that, fuck, that’s hot.”

wordcount: 1.7k

tags: very much in love jock/fratboy!mingyu, regular ass girl reader. (shocking, coming from me lmao), grinding, kissing, hand job, implied sex

note: you know im not only thankful for your congratulations for me, but for offering the option to write about mingyu with free reign? thank u so much <3 I did split up the prompt a lil bit to work it into the drabble, hope you don't mind!

Mingyu, the kid from down the street that rode by on his scooter, fucking scooter, and knocked your popsicle out of your hand before immediately riding straight into a tree. Mingyu, the guy who took you to prom because he felt bad that your crush rejected you quite harshly. Mingyu, the kid who turned into an awkward teen, who then turned into a, to put it bluntly, beefy ass jock playing for the college football team.

The two of you lost contact after prom, feeling as if the two of you were entirely too different. Sure, he was kind, but his jokes weren't funny. His interests bored you, and he couldn't dance for shit back then.

Even now, seeing him in passing on the walkways of campus, you'll notice that his eye never meets yours. His interests are that of prideful trophies, medals, and Tuesday night drinking binges at the frat house before a big exam.

Your interests clash. Art, architecture, grades, a comfy career working from home with nine cats and maybe a dog? That's what you want out of life.

The two of you were always very different, but still always close by somehow.

He lived three houses down from you growing up, he knew you got rejected in the hall on the way to biology class in high school because he just happened to be there, and now, he goes to the same fucking college as you fourteen hours away from the town the two of you grew up in.

It was kind of strange, then again, not really. Small world this, small world that. The two of you live in it completely apart, but the strange part is the fact that somehow, someway, he's always following his own path within arms reach of yours, regardless of how fucking distant your personalities are.

It's honestly not something you'd think of on a day to day basis, today is different though. You have to think about it, because maybe, sort of, he's kind of under you right now? And it's hard to explain how or why it happened outside of like, opposites attract.

"Never expected this out of someone like you," Mingyu comments, his hands gripping your hips and holding you in place as you straddle his lap. "Admit that you've had a crush all of these years."

You shake your head at him and roll your eyes. All those years you've known him? He was just Mingyu. Attractive? Sure, you'll give him that, but otherwise a little too different from you to have a crush.

"Always so quick to flatter yourself, Gyu, really." You laugh sarcastically, knowing for a fact that he's very aware of this current, very temporary crush you have on him. Otherwise you wouldn't be two inches from him lips right now.

"Well," He glances to the side, hiding his fondness of that childhood nickname, pretending that there isn't the possibility of a stranger barging through that open door and ruining this moment. "I had a crush."

You figured as much, with the way he really did try during prom. Though it was more of a pity-date, you imagine he wouldn't have felt how he did if there wasn't something there pushing him to try and heal up that little piece of your broken high school heart.

And as much as you figured it, something inside of you finds this big, beefy, asshole of a man....incredibly endearing as he admits it to you.

"Oh? Did you now?" You tilt your head, leaning in a bit and sitting your lips against the corner of his mouth. "What happened to change your mind?"

He turns his face, hands gripping you tighter, and kisses you once.

"Nothing changed my mind." He whispers slightly, entirely suffocating himself in the moment of being with you like he's always imagined since puberty hit his ass.

He kisses you again.

"Meaning," Another kiss. "I still have that crush."

You say nothing in response, and instead give in to his assault of kisses against your lips.

The feeling is......warm. Cliché even, in the way he kisses you like he meant what he just said despite the two of you practically ignoring each other for years.

"You have no idea how many times I've thought about this," He admits between those little kisses, his hands gripping harder and harder by the second. "I always hoped you'd walk through those doors to come see me."

You pull back, looking at him with a raised brow.

"I came here because I'm celebrating the fact that I passed an exam that almost killed me, what makes you think I expected you to be here?"

He chuckles, rolling his eyes at you now.

"You're very aware that I live here." He laughs, trying to catch you in a lie, trying to give him a reason outside of a sudden bout of random horniness from you to have you crawling on his lap like this. "You're not here to catch up?"

You find yourself feeling a bit bad. You didn't often think of Mingyu after college started, and it appears he thought of you plenty.

"I came here for the booze but," You smile, intentionally rolling your hips to offer him some sort of apology. "I can't say that I'm upset that you're here, and you know, hard."

His eyes flutter a bit at the friction you're offering to him, twitching in his pants unintentionally as you intentionally pull it out of him.

"So, tell me," You continue, pulling back a bit to watch his face and the way he seems to turn to jelly under you. Your hips continue, working him up, up, up. "How much did you think about this?"

He lets out a breathy chuckle, a half-moan coming out immediately after as he tries to gain back his ability to talk. Out of all things, this isn't entirely how he imagined doing this with you. Sure he always thought of you being on top of him like this, but never did he imagine feeling as though he's....shy.

"Couple of times," He tries to say nonchalantly, pressing his hips up and against you for more. "Like I said before, i never would have expected this out of you though."

You look at him closely, knowing for a fact that he probably expected to be the one in full control. It's cute knowing he can't live up to his own fantasy.

"You think I expected to have you under me like this? Looking like you're about to cry just from a bit of grinding?"

He groans out of slight embarrassment, nodding because he kind of didn't expect it either.

"Didn't expect someone like you to act this weak for someone like me." You continue, laughing more with him than at him.

Before you let him respond though, you reach down and fiddle with the button of his pants, feeling entirely in control of the situation.

"Does it feel good to be weak?" You smile, leaning forward to kiss against his neck as you slowly work your hand under his jeans.

God, the way he loses it. Pleasantly surprised with how you're speaking to him, and even more pleased with the fact that fucking finally you're giving him a chance. An ounce of your attention, even.

He's not ashamed to be weak around you, never has been. He wouldn't be ashamed if Vernon's drunk ass stomped through the door and watched, because at this point there's no stopping. He's too far gone in the feeling of your fingers working their way around his length, even in the tight space between your bodies. He's too gone in the feeling of your lips fluttering across his neck.

If he can, he'll take you right here, right the fuck now.

"Yeah..." he trails off in a dreamy sigh, letting himself feel you touching him for the first time.

"So," You ask, loving his reaction, squeezing the base of his cock and sliding off of his lap before lowering yourself to your knees and focusing solely on how big his cock is in your hand. "You just gonna sit here or are you gonna, like, take me to your actual room and let me really feel it?"

Mingyu's cock reacts before his brain does, as he freezes and processes the words. Oh god, you're really gonna let him? After all these years of crushing on you? Pining for you? Thinking about you in the early morning hours when he definitely shouldn't have been?"

"I never thought I'd hear you say that--" He says more to himself than to you. Seemingly looking like a deer in headlights before he's pulling your hand out of his pants, lacing his fingers with yours, and leading you straight to his bedroom. Arousal in full swing as he passes by stranger after stranger, friend after friend, until finally, he's got you behind his locked bedroom door.

"Fuck," he says immediately as he watches you and the way you stand there, as normal as ever, lifting your shirt off of you without a second thought and revealing a part of you that he only ever imagined being able to kiss.

The fact that you seem eager to get your clothes off, doing it the second the two of you are truly alone? Honestly, he can feel the waves of arousal making his length pulse painfully against his pants. The fact that other people have seen you like this before? The fact that you chose to let him see? The fact that this is how you act when you're turned on? Fuck, fuck, fuck. He's entirely desperate at this moment.

"That's so hot," He starts, feeling a little dumb but ultimately running with it because, well, he's not fucking lying. "It's so hot seeing you, the girl who always ignored me, doing this."

"Mingyu, all I did was take my shirt off." You try to brush his dramatic response off, feeling very seen right now.

"For me." He adds to your sentence, practically feeling like his knees will buckle and make him fall to the floor and grovel for a taste of you.

You feel doted on. Like the most mundane acts regarding sex seems to be driving him up a fucking wall, and arguably, it very well may be. With the way every inch of your skin is massaged and kissed before you can even fully reveal it to him.

It didn't take much to get Mingyu to actually fall to his knees once your pants came off. And goddamn you never expected such a big, beefy ass jock, to be so gentle with someone else's body. With your body.

#[sleepover]#mingyu smut #seventeen smut #[mingyu]#[m]#heartsandwheels

544 notes · View notes

mrswint3rs · 4 months

Text

A Well Deserved Victory

tag- @chobitsbunny

pairings- Miles Edgeworth x Fem! Reader

a/n- writing is so hard 😭 im running out of vocab

NSFW WARNING:

contains- blowjob in the car, brief gagging

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The car is parked by the courthouse. Miles has been silent, staring straight ahead, and your heart flutters as you think of seeing him in court again. All those years of being with him, and the thrill still hasn't gone away. Its rare, actually get to attend and watch the trial in person, usually only hearing how it went afterwards because you worked during the same hours.

"Ready to go in?"

Nodding eagerly, you remove your seatbelt to hop out and open his door for him. A sort of inside joke between the two of you.

Edgeworth grins, pleased, then exits his car and walks to the courthouse's entrance. You trot alongside, then dash ahead and open the doors for him in a silly manner. You grin back at him,

"For you, m'lady. As always."

He chuckles and shakes his head before responding, "You always know how to make an entrance, don't you? And don't ever call me that."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You and Miles walk into the courthouse together. He's still dressed in his suit and is carrying a large folder of papers. You notice a crowd of other lawyers gathering outside the courtroom before you and Edgeworth walk through the doors.

Everything seems to slow down once you reach the lobby. Now, you're just excited to see how Edgeworth will put together his case. As you take your seat on the bench, you glance over at him as he places his papers in the right order. You smile slightly when he notices you looking. "You're really looking forward to this, hm?"

"Mhm...It's been a while since i've watched you do your stuff."

The pair of you pass through the lobby's metal detectors and enter the main floor of the courtroom. You glance back at Edgeworth when you hear someone call his name.

Seems its time to part ways already.

You pout a bit as Edgeworth turns towards the courtroom, But then he looks at you and his face softens. He leans in for a quick kiss, running a hand through your hair.

"Don't worry. After this case, we can spend the whole day together." he promises.

"Good luck darling..."

He gives you another kiss and enters the courtroom, leaving you to sit in the gallery with the rest of the public.

You watch as Edgeworth stands before the judge and gives his opening statement. The Defense Attorney stands and gives hers, and then Edgeworth stands again for his cross-examination. He's ruthless as he asks question after question, until the Defense is left stammering and unable to give a satisfactory response. Your heart flutters with excitement as he tears apart the Defense's arguments with each question.

You and the rest of the gallery are glued to their seats. Edgeworth and the Defense Attorney continue to go back and forth, trading jabs. Edgeworth's rebuttals are sharp and incisive, cutting deep into the Defense Attorney's weak points.

You watch on as the Defense sits back down and Edgeworth gives his final remarks. The judge thinks for a minute, then speaks up,

"The jury has reached their verdict."

You and Edgeworth both sit in anticipation. Your heart beats rapidly. You hold your breath as the judge speaks up,

"The jury has ruled that the defendant is..."

There's a moment of silence as the judge takes his time.

"Guilty."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After the case concludes, you stand up and make your way back towards the lobby to meet Edgeworth.

He concludes his work, returning wearing a pleased expression. You walk towards him and wrap your arms around him,

"Darling!" you exclaim, "Congratulations!"

Edgeworth smiles at you, clearly proud of himself. He looks at you, then glances in the direction of the parking lot,

"Thank you, love. Maybe we should celebrate that victory in the car," He leans in and whispers subtly, so only you could hear. You bite your lower lip and nod at him with understanding. "Okay...but only if you get me fast food, i'm hungry."

He considers your proposition for a beat, "Well then, I'll have my reward on the way there."

You both grin, then head towards his car. He opens the passenger door for you, then climbs in on his side after.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Briefly, you glance around the parking lot, checking for any signs of people as your boyfriend starts the car. Confirming there's no one to witness, you lean over the center console, unbuttoning his fancy dress pants and unzipping his fly. He lifts his hips, letting you pull his pants down to his thighs pulling his boxers out of the way, exposing his veiny, tumescent member, before putting the car in drive.

You sink down on him, your lips wrapping around his slick tip. Your tongue tracing his shape, his bitter pre cum clogging your senses. Taking one hand off the wheel, he grips your hair. Not pulling or pushing you down, just caressing your head affectionately. His voice breathy and quiet, "Just like that, good girl." You swallow down his shaft, bobbing your head in no particular rhythm.

He continues petting your head, softly groaning from time to time, enjoying the feeling of your mouth. You knew exactly how he liked it without needing his guidance. He liked to start out slow, just building his arousal. The way you took him all the way down, reaching his base before coming all the way back up to focus on the head again. When you come up for air, spitting and using it as lube to stroke him with your soft hands. And especially when you lay it flat against his stomach, tongue gliding on the underside of his cock from top to bottom. He loved how you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes.

You'd stimulate him in just the right ways. Lightly holding his sac as you take him inside again.

You speed up, holding your head at a certain angle so you didn't hit the steering wheel. At your increased speed he feels himself getting closer. Every bump of the road making you take him all the way to the back of your throat.

He starts to lose his calm facade when your tongue repeatedly flicks at his tip, pulling his skin down making him all the more sensitive. His eyes flutter shut for a split second, getting caught up in the moment.

"Shit-" he slams on the breaks, almost rear ending the car in front of you.

You gag at the suddenness of him hitting the back of your throat. With a low grunt, he releases his sticky ropes of cum into your mouth.

"Mnn' sorry. Red light..." he moans softly as you slide up, slipping him out of you. Swallowing and wiping the remains off of your lips. His hand comes out from your hair, shaking slightly from the rush.

"Maybe we shouldn't do that while i'm driving," he chuckles breathily,

mlist

#miles edgeworth x reader #miles edgeworth #ace attorney x reader #ace attorney #phoenix wright ace attorney #fanfiction #smut #fem reader

184 notes · View notes

the-kr8tor · 6 months

Note

Im all good to put the ideas into multiple asks! I’m so glad u liked my ideas 🥰🥰!!

First one was TTN hobie and reader when they have reunited and they r going on a date after being separated for so long and just spending time together and hanging out

-🕊️ anon

Ly 😘 thank you again for the ttn requests!! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, No specific physical description of the reader, drinking, a bit suggestive, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader, set after the epilogue.

Thread the Needle Masterlist

TTN Oneshots Masterlist

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

"My favourite? Piña Colada" you nurse a cranberry vodka in your hand, voice whispering in Hobie's ear so that he can hear you through the loud chatter inside the busy pub.

Your back is resting on the chipping wooden wall of the ancient White Horse pub, body fully turned towards Hobie, your hand comfortably lying on the small of his back. He practically squishes you inside the booth with his arm around your shoulder, fingers absentmindedly kneading over your nape. Legs touching yours, a smile never leaving his lips, half full pint forgotten in front of him.

He would've preferred a much quieter place for your first date back home, but you wanted to visit his old haunts, and you were in a drinking mood. Hobie doesn't seem to care though, as long as you're with him, he's golden. Even if you suggested going to the sewers or God forbid a Mall, he would've said yes in a heartbeat. Because it's you, fresh from L.A. you who haven't finished unpacking yet even though you've been home for three days. He doesn't blame you though, how could you find the time to unpack when you two are busy snogging and reacquainting yourselves.

"Thank fuck" he chuckles. "Thought it would be worse like a can of whatever piss water they 'ave"

You roll your eyes, "Piña Colada is really good. I can make you one if you like"

"Sure, as long as it's not whiskey sour" Hobie mimics an American accent with his last word causing you to laugh out loud above the prattle of the pub.

"Do that again" you poke his side. "Come on"

"Fuck off, that's a one time thing" he hides his smile with his pint.

"You know back in America I had so many pints, it's insane" He raises a brow, knowing you're not much of a drinker. You continue on with your sentence. "Pints of ice cream"

"Is it too late for you to go back? Because I can ask for you–"

Leaning slightly, you kiss the corner of his lips as an apology for your attempt at humour. "I know, horrible joke. I blame the drink"

"Not the company though, right?" He says against your lips, long eyelashes fanning over eyes, looking down at your besotted face.

"Great company, ten out of ten" you press a cranberry filled kiss fully on his lips, lingering for only a moment. In that tiny booth with the squeaky leather cushions, you feel like you and Hobie are the only people in the world. "What do you say we go home." Whispering, you bat your eyelashes at him.

His eyes sparkle in the low light, "And?"

You don't miss his knowing tone so you decide to tease him more. "Or we can go to my office and ask for me to get transferred back to L.A."

"I like your first joke better, too soon, love" Hobie dramatically touches his chest like he's been hurt.

"You did it first!" You finish your drink, hand grabbing your bag from the table.

"And I did it better than you" Hobie takes your coat for you, standing up, reaching to help you out the booth.

Looking up at him, you smile mischievously. "Do an American accent first"

He rolls his eyes, "no" flexing his fingers, he feigns annoyance.

"Please? Just say one thing and I'll get up"

With a huff and a hidden smile, he surrenders. "Whiskey sour" Hobie does his best impression of an American man who's impatient to get his drink from the bartender.

Giggling, you still sit in the booth. "Say 'wassup, dude'"

"Don't push it, love or I'll start calling you bruv again"

Sliding out, you take his outstretched hand. "If you're into that then I'm open to try it." You laugh at your own quip.

"What have they done to my Gromit?" hand in hand, you and Hobie weave through the crowd whilst he guides you with his tender hold.

You snuggle closer to him, avoiding a guy with ten drinks on his tray. "Same Gromit, I promise"

"Love you still even if you weren't" He whispers back with fondness.