#DIRECTED but in a lighthearted jest

[coolestt]

By popular request because all the ladies want me if you if you could return dont let it burn dont let it fade im sure im not being rude but itsnjust your attitude its tearing me apart its ruining everythingg i swore i swore it would be true and honey so did you so why were you holding her hand is that the way we stand were yu lying all theirme was it just a game to you butim in so deeppp you know im such a fool for youu you got me wrapped around yuoru fingerrrr do you hve to let it linger do you have to do uou have to do you have to let it longer gohh i thought the world of you i thougt nothing could go wrong but i was wrong i ws wronggg if you if you coul d getby trying not to lie things wouldnt be so confused and i wouldnt feel so used but you always really knew i just wanna be with you and im in so deep you know im such a fool for you you got me wrapped around your fingerrrrughhhh do you have to let it linger do you ahve to do you have to do you have to let it linger and im in so deep you know im such a fool for you you got me wrapped around your fingerrrr do youhave to let it linger do you have to do you have to do you have to let it linger you know im such a fool for you you got me wrapped around your finger do you have to let it linger do you have to do you have to do you have to let it linger. Thank you gang for coming to my show @thesoupman

[soapoet]

How they'll confess their feelings

requested by anon.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: Hands to myself by Selena Gomez

This energy is very open and inviting. Your person is quite bold, and when they know what they want they show persistence, and adapt quickly to changing winds. They are not fazed by much and can weather any storm. They have a bit of a "won't take no for an answer" type of energy to them, but not the toxic kind. They may appear to you as somebody who doesn't take things seriously, or perhaps they are so direct in their affections and intentions you simply take it as something said in jest rather than the honest truth of their heart, something they'd say to just about anybody and therefore not for you to give much merit. They don't take themselves too seriously and have a very uplifting and lighthearted presence, which can so easily be assumed to go hand in hand with non-committal or even player tendencies. In reality, they simply enjoy keeping things light to assure those around them are having a good time and don't sweat the small things, which very well may stem from a childhood in which they served as a mediator or created distractions during rough times, aiming to always find silver lining to avoid dread and loss of hope in their loved ones. They are nurturing and protective by nature and do, in fact, know when to put their serious face on, and then they surprise all with their dependability and their ability to persevere, always coming out of things unscathed and even striving.

Their confession is direct, but places the ball in your court. They are good at marketing themselves and would make a great salesman by their persistence alone. They are confident, but not cocky, though they play on a little bit of arrogance for entertainment value. I'm hearing things such as "you're going to have to eat today anyway, so might as well get fancy with it", which holds that essence of boldness and persistence that I am picking up on so strongly. They show through actions what they have to offer, and whilst they will take a serious rejection, they're playfully pushy in this way where they don't expect anything other than the chance to treat you to a little something like a dinner and that way show you what they're made of. They certainly appreciate and enjoy a little game of cat and mouse to start with, so any initial reluctance from you that is less like rejection and more like a challenge for them to prove themselves to you is not only welcome but encouraged. They're somewhat traditional, but treat you like an equal. A major goal to them is to allow you to have a good time and not worry about things in their presence. There is a lot of laughter involved here as well, and you'll find yourself charmed by them effortlessly. It may be hard to actually pinpoint where exactly a confession occurred because their pursuit of you is ever-present from the start.

Additional details: new phone, swimming pools, wine, get togethers, stocks, business, airplanes, real estate, steak, gyms, football, wrestling, DJs, white sneakers, movie theatre, necklaces, bouquets, big family, cars/opening car doors, shopping, pranks, instagram, nail salons, entrepreneurship, beaches, pizza, Amazon, cruises, leisure, stand-up comedy, concerts, high-end brands, red, B/D/T/K/J, Libra/Gemini/Cancer/Leo.

02.

Shufflemancy: There till the end by JERUB

Quite jittery, restless energy. Your person is overcome with emotions leading up to this occasion, and the various scenarios they play out in their head trying to find the correct when and where and how make their stomach churn like they're spinning around in a carousel. They want to be bold, but perhaps it would be too risky, so they play it cool, or at least try to, only to find that their approach may actually be much too vague for you to catch on. This person is usually quite open with their emotions and easy to read. To their near and dear they are an open book and they pride themselves in their own ability to read others. They always try to cheer up loved ones and strangers alike, even when they aren't certain what to say or do they try their best. This person always seems to get back on their feet when they're knocked down, and their inner strength may come as a surprise to some because they look rather harmless and have a very bright energy about them, like the sun that so easily could be overcast. It is often said that the brightest smiles are on the faces of those who have known the greatest sorrows, and that appears to ring true with your person. Their optimism is a tool developed for survival, and has gotten them far in life. They often wield this optimism for others too, selflessly rallying behind others and their goals and dreams, and serve as the number one supporter tirelessly and try to make sure nobody feels left out in the cold.

In their attempt to find the balance between delicate and bold, they may find themselves so overcome and frustrated that they simply blurt it out. For some, they may opt for something silly or lighthearted, that is still direct, but does not feel as scary to them. They could confess via a game of hangman, or even write one of those "do you like me? yes/no" notes of bygone playground days and bruised knees. They are endearing, and I see that you two have much in common. There's a strong foundation of friendship, too, which may be their source of unrest as they wish not to ruin what you have. They may very well end up going on a tangent, blabbering on about their feelings nervously to fill the silence so much they don't give you the chance to speak before you shush them and put them at ease with the knowledge that it is mutual and they have no reason to fret and fluster so badly.

Additional details: video games, tabletop games, converse, Fruits basket, Sailor moon, slurpees and milkshakes, youtube, mismatched socks, animals, lofi, indie, grocery stores, parks, band t-shirts, empty playgrounds, bubblegum, mints, cemeteries, mason jars, art, guitars, cotton candy, thrift shops, fishing, bicycles, plushies, scrunchies, friendship bracelets, rodents and birds, small towns, nuggies, venting, Pisces/Leo/Aquarius/Scorpio/Sagittarius,J/V/S/L/N.

03.

Shufflemancy: When we're old by Ieva Zasimauskaitė

Oh dear. This energy feels like a neat and tidy office with loose papers thrown about. What happened here, I could ask, but you did. You happened. This person seemed content in the daily routines, their feet planted on solid ground, until suddenly their foundations were tested by a hurricane. Sweeping in and changing everything, you turned their life upside down. At first they may have been frightened, worried that you will surely be a problem. They could at first wish to solve you like a puzzle, only to find no corner pieces because you are ever-expanding, a fairytale with no end but many twists and turns and many pages still unwritten. They are perplexed, but oh so fascinated. You awaken wonder and awe in them, as though you came in to show them a peek of what's beyond the veil, far away from their mundane, solved, scientific, factual, proven reality. You inspire them, yet your words and ways challenge everything they know. They go through rapid growth triggered by you, and a lot of it not for the faint of heart. They are a rock amidst storms, a lighthouse keeper assuring safe passage for ships at sea, and have never quite known the depths of the sea and the crashing waves that you call home.

If you are observant, which many of you certainly are, you may notice the battles that take place inside their head even when they remain so calm and collected on the outside, and know long before they tell you just how they really feel about you. For many of you, they may find the circumstances iffy, the timing poor and unfortunate, but their feelings are as real and true as they are overwhelming. They experience many sleepless nights, and may argue with themselves, a court case as both the prosecutor and the defendant, whilst you seem to be the judge and jury and hold the key to the inevitable verdict. They may very well need a green light from you, but they will confess their feelings candidly, likely in a place only semi private for the sake of your comfort, thinking you need escape routes as they're convinced what they read off of you is a trick of their own mind and false hope that what they feel is mutual. They are gentle and cautious, try their best not to overstep any real or perceived boundaries between you. Though they hide a romantic behind their exterior, your first talk about something more between you can at first feel like an interview, as they wish to cover their bases and make sure they wouldn't waste your time or you theirs by having different directions and goals in the long-term, because the long-term is what they want. This group is the most likely to see fast engagements and marriage and other such milestones due to this clarity early on.

Additional details: spirituality, churches, meditation, sleep hypnosis or lucid dreaming, tarot, astrology, weddings, moving, soda and energy drinks, nostalgia, piercings and/or tattoos, hiking, travelling, community, helping, third party or recent breakups, to-do lists and planners, glasses, stress, cooking, purple, blue, gyms and sports, metal, journaling, blogs, text messages, tech, Leo/Virgo/Capricorn/Cancer/Pisces, E/T/K/H/A/S.

04.

Shufflemancy: Die for you by The Weeknd

This is very potent energy in comparison to the other piles. It is heavy and deep, almost suffocating but closer to a weighted blanket rather than true smothering. This person feels everything quite deeply and never seems to know how to express themselves or where to even put all these emotions, as though they always find themselves in aisle three struggling to hold all their items and wish they had just grabbed a basket upon entry. Their feelings for you creep in slow and steady like a predator stalking its prey from the tall grass, and before they know it they are met with great fear of abandonment and worry you will be swept up by another, worried that even if you were theirs you could do better. They may very well have history of poor relationships which ended in their demise, leaving their heart broken and full of trust issues. You may not even be aware of their insecurity as they carry themselves with confidence and are at ease with their peers, mix and mingle so effortlessly and appear so carefree. They have a lot of passion and take their work and hobbies very seriously. Their dedication to the things that matter most to them is remarkable and they have tenacity to push onwards regardless of any odds stacked against them, though their energy mostly comes in spurts and they require time to recharge or recompose themselves after all their sudden leaps and efforts. They may confuse you, as their devotion to you as an ally burns so bright, yet they seem to not make any moves to indicate that there is more to it. Perhaps this person is confused too, because for many it is possible that they once chose to not pursue love seriously due to past experiences, yet your presence is so stable and safe they want to so badly take a leap of faith in your direction.

This clash of desire and fear is not easy for them, and they go through a long period of denial from which they constantly find themselves slipping, always saying or doing something more than what your dynamic would call for, acting out the role of a partner out of their ease in your presence, then stepping back and fighting the current that threatens to wash them downstream to unknown territory, only to once again be lulled into this comfort you provide. They catch themselves daydreaming of a proper commited relationship with you often, but just as often they shake their head and wave those thought bubbles away. Their eventual confession is just as tumultuous as the feelings that reside within them. It could occur as a result of a heated argument, or at a time they are convinced you will leave them or hurt them and they simply fail to stop their outburst. Most will put it in a kiss before they put it in words, and there may be a lot of stressful and overwhelming emotions happening all at once for both of you as this strange and quite frankly exhausting push and pull dance reaches ots climax and comes to an end. This revelation fortunately provides instant relief to all this torture as though a kiss and whispered promises serve as morphine.

Additional details: lighters, vinyls, mesh, velvet, Lana Del Rey, Phoebe Bridgers, parties, drinking, shattered glass, bruises and hickeys, astrology and numerology, college, fwb, jealousy, cats, red, d&d, mass effect, social media, tinder, birthdays, plushies and figurines, kdramas, taboo, letters, poetry, reels, LED lights, therapy, pastries, Aries/Scorpio/Capricorn/Virgo, F/B/A/G/D.

05.

Shufflemancy: How you get the girl by Taylor Swift

It may take some time for this person to outright say anything, because their energy is as slow as it is steady. They don't make hasty decisions, and like to take their time to perfect all that they do and say. Despite this meticulous energy, they are quite light and airy. They may be quite critical of themselves, and always strive to do their best and measure up to their own, sometimes near impossible, standards. They are strong and independent, yet may have grown up within a lot of instability, which lead them to solidify into a rock so that turbulent times would not shake them as it did in the past. They have a dominance about them that is neither threatening or demanding. They carry themselves well and do not step on any toes as they go about their life achieving every goal they set for themselves. They try to learn to relax and live a little, and find it easier to do in good company. Their circles may be small and close-knit, as though they wish to keep their life private and managable, quality over quantity. They are incredibly loyal, and though they are difficult to get to know and rarely let down their guard, once you're in, you're truly in, and they would move mountains for you just as they do for everyone they hold close.

They may lack experience or confidence in love, for some they poured all their energy into their studies, careers, hobbies, or other relationships like family and friends, and decided not to force love. With you they feel comfortable and safe and may go out of their way to allocate time to spend with you every day, and they diligently remain at your disposal for anything at all should you need them. The foundation of trust and support they lay down over the course of many months and seasons changed before they dare confess what cards they hold so close to their chest provides promise of longevity and purpose for your relationship. They may confide in their loved ones for advice and encouragement before they come forward. Sitting there shuffling notes, getting up and pacing and wracking their brains for just the right words to say, but in the end their confession is just as light as ever. You may have felt for a long time that the two of you were practically dating, though without the official stamp of exclusivity, and this is what they may allude to in their confession. Words untold always on the tip of their tongue come out gently, but with certainty and with a firm hand for you to grab and hold on to. This occurs in a comfortable routine environment, something safe and predictable. Nothing lavish, nothing big and bold, no fireworks and marching bands. Just amidst your usual day to day, making it somehow unexpected and expected all at once, as though it was inevitable, but still surprising. Their confession may leave you in tears of relief or joy or shock, or a concoction of them all, yet this new chapter feels like freshly baked bread and a good morning text. So simple and sweet and natural in this simple brand of perfection of theirs.

Additional details: classical music, working out, family, wingman, salad, selfcare, psychology, puppies, car problems, 20 questions, countryside, eyeshadow palettes, phone calls or voice memos, LDR, school, lace, divorce, trauma, literature, lgbt+, trains, movie nights, floral, anxiety, politics, medication, doctor's appointments, news, red lipstick, green and beige, nature, baking, giggles, Attack on titan, Leo/Taurus/Libra/Pisces, Y/J/A/E/W.

06.

Shufflemancy: Call my name by Priest

This person will need some encouragement. Some sort of signal that their plane will land safely and is cleared for approach. Their energy is like contained chaos. Their mind is everywhere all at once, yet they appear at peace, relaxed, and so calm on the outside. They aren't surprised by the butterflies in their stomach, but have a tendency to enjoy them while they last without acting upon their feelings. Typically they expect these butterflies to fly away eventually, but it seems with you they've made a permanent home making their heart flutter every day, far beyond the usual expiration date. This surprises them, and makes them a little uneasy. They so often keep to themselves and don't bother others with their feelings or their needs, that they find themselves at a loss when they try to find the right words. Which is peculiar, as they seem to have such a way with them under any other circumstance. Always knowing the right thing to say, providing heartfelt guidance and insight at the drop of a hat when somebody needs it, known by their kindred spirits as both wise and witty. Yet this eloquence becomes a lost artform when it comes to expressing themselves and their feelings, and they feel embarrassed by their tongue-tied stutters and inability to string together a coherent sentence. Perhaps in their youth the key to their survival lied in becoming invisible and minimising their needs and blurring their boundaries. Now they go with the flow of life and may sometimes feel like an intangible being amongst solid mortals with beating hearts that to them sound so loud they couldn't possibly speak loud enough to be heard.

Their approach is careful, like a detective uncovering a crime clue by clue. They plant seeds and nurture them, hoping you will notice the tiny leaves which poke out from the dirt. They have perfected the art of dropping hints, and are looking for a signal that they are allowed and welcome to do and say more. Their pursuit of you can feel like a slowburn persuasion of you to say something first, like they're the puppeteer behind the scenes pulling strings in their favour so that confessing their secrets won't be so scary. You'll come to find the depth of their true feelings shocking. Once their walls come down and they show their vulnerability you will find them so sincere and sweet in their hopes and dreams for the two of you that you may find yourself teary-eyed. They come with the offer of dedication to waking up every day choosing to love you, actively, as a choice, keeping this promise like an oath. It's hard to pinpoint a confession here, as they weave a web, luring you in, coaxing it out of you first, or get close enough to the truth that there can be no doubt in either of you.

Additional details: childhood wounds, cereal, multiple tabs open, mobile games, distractions, true crime of haunted side of youtube/tiktok, horror movies, cold hands, dyed hair, Olivia Rodrigo, kpop, foxes, cats, blue birds, keys and keychains, beanies, venus flytrap, headphones, chips, broccoli, spicy food, books, wikipedia, reddit, ADD/ADHD, flannels, fairy lights, gaming setups, lightsabers, aviation, documentaries, persona games, nighttime, magic, netflix, Gemini/Cancer/Aquarius/Pisces/Sagittarius, K/P/V/Z/M.

[aziraphales-library]

Ello ello ello! Are there any humorous fics you know that involve an exorcism? Preferably lighthearted ones =) perhaps a similar vibe to Shane and Ryan in this one video: https://youtu.be/RzPk6VHPeDY?feature=shared

I hope that made sense!! I don't know how else to describe what I'm looking for T0T

2/2: Hi hi! It's that ryan and shane anon, i think i found a better way to describe what I'm looking for? Just anything involving someone looking for paranormal happenings going on, doesn't have to be an exorcism-- but still something humorous and lighthearted If someone already requested something like this, sorry bout that

Hello. You'll be interested in this post about paranormal investigations of the bookshop, including some buzzfeed unsolved crossovers. Here are some more lighthearted paranormal fics...

Hey There, Demons by IneffableAlien (T)

Married paranormal investigators Azra and Crowley explore an abandoned asylum. It goes about as well as you might expect.

The Wrong Side of the Door by HolyCatsAndRabbits (M)

Crowley had been with this group of ghost-hunters for two years, Aziraphale for three. They’d never had a conversation that didn’t end in an argument. If they weren’t both essential (read: would work this as a side job on the weekends for low pay), Gabriel would have fired one or both of them a long time ago. So now, as Aziraphale conducted his interview, Crowley was sure to scowl at him when he looked up. Because Aziraphale was on camera and couldn’t scowl back. Aziraphale returned his focus to Deirdre with an irritated huff of breath that Crowley did not miss. “What happened that day you stayed home?” he asked her. Deirdre talked with her hands, shaping out her thoughts in a vague, fluttery way. “I started hearing things, like scraping noises. From upstairs.” She pointed, as if they’d need direction, maybe thinking they might not be able to imagine what had happened that day, not in this warm and well-lit room with the open window and the front door in sight.

paranormal activity by dykeula (G)

"Humans were to ghosts what ghosts were to humans: a delightful jest to pass the time if the radio didn’t offer any relief. Sort of like chatting to fellas from oversees. They talked funny, wore fancy hats and were to be enjoyed with caution, and in doses. Problem was when they wouldn't leave Crowley alone." --  Back in the midst of the 19th century, a certain gentleman by the name of Mr. Fell aquires the rights to a particular empty store in London that's been closed for a while - for good reason. But what challenge's a little haunting to an ethereal being, right? It's tickety boo. Crowley, on the other hand, very much objects to his newest roomie. So far his track record for scaring off potential buyers is holding at a steady 100%. But what challenge's a bookish nerd to a omnipresent malevolent spirit, right? It's tickety boo.

Ghostly Ever After by Tiny_Dragongirl (T)

They say it’s all sorted out after you are dead—but sometimes, just sometimes, things need a bit of sorting-out even after you are dead. Aziraphale Fell and Anthony J. Crowley, professional paranormal investigators, might be the perfect candidates for handling problems of the supernatural, after-life kind. Only if they would sort out their own lives while they are alive… A romantic comedy, where ghosts are gathering, tempers are flaring, and love is rising above all.

Pulling Heaven Down by Bluethenstaub, PepperPrints (M)

Anthony J. Crowley is the best paranormal investigator in London. From minor poltergeist problems to full blown exorcisms, he does it all, satisfaction guaranteed. There’s only one catch: it’s all a con. At least, that’s what Crowley thinks. A run in with a strange, ethereal competitor threatens to turn Crowley’s world upside down, and before he knows it he finds himself caught up in affairs that might be way, way above his paygrade.

YES. YES. YES. GOODBYE? by AppleSeeds (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley are independently dragged along to a paranormal investigation event in a haunted castle on Halloween. They're both extremely sceptical about the whole thing, but manage to keep themselves entertained. Self-indulgent Halloween nonsense, 10 chapters taking place between 8.45pm on 31st October and 3.15am on 1st November. Attraction will be instantaneous. Hands will be joined together for a séance. Fingers will brush against each other on the planchette of a Ouija board. A scrying mirror will be used for indiscreet ogling. Crowley will be dressed inappropriately and need warming up. You get the idea.

- Mod D

[vickyvicarious]

"No trifling with me! I never jest! There is grim purpose in all I do; and I warn you that you do not thwart me. Take care, for the sake of others if not for your own." Then seeing poor Lucy scared, as she might well be, he went on more gently: "Oh, little miss, my dear, do not fear me. I only do for your good; but there is much virtue to you in those so common flowers."

On the one hand, it's pretty bold of Van Helsing to start shouting about never jesting when he literally has been being light and playful with her pretty much since the moment you met Lucy. But, I get it. He's been doing that in large part to relieve her anxiety and cheer her up/make her comfortable with him. And in fact only a few lines later he tries to go back to being more lighthearted with his little comments about making all these garlands himself. But he also wants to strike a balance between being cheerful with her, and making sure to impress how deadly serious it is that she use these flowers exactly as directed. Any hint of Lucy being dismissive of them is setting him off, especially given how close she's come to death twice already, and how exhausted and stressed he currently is. Still. Rude, man.

This line gives us a nice little glimpse at Van Helsing's stress (freaking out and yelling), his gentleness (the kinder tone soon adopted), his determination (grim purpose), his authoritarian tendencies (the rest of the quote about how she must be obedient and silent)... And, for all I make fun of how badly he reads people all the time, he's actually got Lucy down in that line admonishing her to be careful for others' sakes if not her own.

[enviedear]

telephone cord ⟶ sirius black

DESCRIPTION ⌙ sirius black is making his slow return back home to a girl, who, before his leaving, had no idea just how much she'd miss him. PAIRING ⌙ sirius x fem!reader WORD COUNT ⌙ 3.0k

❛ ֪ ׂ and she twirls that phone cord around her fingers as if it were all she possibly had of him ֪ ׂ ❜

— join my taglist | request | masterlist

you couldn't stop your deadpan glare directed at one jesting james potter. your friend seemed to enjoy the way you wrapped yourself up in your phone cord, laying like a schoolgirl, upside down on your couch. in complete truth, it was an absolutely horrendous display.

he made one, final, little teasing gesture before both mary and lily tackled him onto the armchair, soft silly little smiles on their faces. you focused back in on the beautifully coarse voice coming through the receiver.

"—this was only after i had walked an hour in the wrong direction. i swear if i don't learn a bit of korean soon i'm going to end up getting sacked." sirius drawls, unaware of the silent drama going on around you.

he was away— had been away for six months— for a touring gig with one of your shared favorite bands. they were outrageously popular now, followed around, as sirius told, "by a gaggle of obsessive people"

but you could tell he loved the job. for, in just the first month he had been promoted from, in his words, "average lights guy" to "the best backstage manager this century had ever seen".

you were beyond proud of him. your best friend getting to see the world with one of the best bands of the modern age.

how you missed him, though.

especially now. now, that you'd let it slip to all your mutual friends just how much you truly cared for him.

you feel your ears go hot at the memory. it was funny, really, how nice it felt to finally tell them— someone— of your universe-sized crush.

it did help that they all seemed to enjoy the information almost as much as you. giving you hugs and suggesting over and over just how much they had always known. you seriously doubted the later. yes they were all happily keen with their newfound knowledge, but none like james, who enjoyed the topic for the jokes it presented.

but even the lighthearted jokes didn't dim your joy. too much.

"despite how much i'd like you back here, start using those maps i sent you! now is not the time to swear off navigation." you smile.

sirius chuckles, "would you believe me if i said i was using it, just a little bit upside-down."

"merlin, you're pitiful pads. really— that's borderline worrying." you joke, closing your eyes. you try to imagine him in the streets of seoul with nothing but an upside-down map and a carton of cigarettes.

but then again, this is the same sirius orion that, until sixth year, couldn't for the life of him find a way around hogwarts without trailing behind james and remus.

"yeah, yeah poke fun all you want, love," he pauses, "speaking of stupid, how's james? he forgot to call me back tuesday and i'm starting to worry."

you spare a look at the newly twenty-two year old, his glasses sliding down his nose and face scrunched up in a faux kiss— somehow still worried about trying to tease you.

"he's gotten worse since you left. somehow. not even lily can quell him, it's disastrous really." you sigh, eyes devilish.

james perks up, "are you talking about little ol' me?"

"has he always been that loud?" sirius mutters and you laugh.

james is quick to crouch beside you, trying to speak into the phone, "sirius, my heart, we miss you! you missed my birthday, i'm starting to think i'll see twenty-three without you."

"just two more countries dear friend, until i'm back in your arms." sirius replies to him, somewhat earnestly, causing you to make a face of faux disgust.

james smiles and sticks his tongue out to you before whispering, "tough competition, miss heart eyes."

you almost hit him with the heavy handset, but settle for a stern middle finger instead, knowing that your phone call is nearing the end.

"where to after korea, pads?" you ask, already knowing the answer. you were acutely aware of just where and when he'd be— because, honestly, you could barely wait for his return home.

"japan! the sound guy told me they've got a great car scene, but really i'm only leaving my hotel room if someone's got a bike. you know how i am." sirius replies.

japan soundly lovely to you. sounds even more lovely if sirius is involved.

"lucky you. and here i am bored and stuck with prongs." you giggle, "and after japan?"

you knew this one too, because it was marked on every calendar in your home, since the minute he left. england. he'd finally be back home.

"oh come on, as if you're all not planning me a rager as we speak." he says, tone dripping with mirth.

there's a smirk on your lips, "you don't have enough friends for a rager."

he laughs lowly, "you're a vile little thing— i'm wounded." his tone is playfully sardonic, "also—"

you cut him short, "you need to go. sorry, i kept you so long, but, have a wonderful show! we all miss you like crazy!" your voice is cheery but the look on your face is dim.

you hate hanging up.

sirius hums, "i miss you too, love. i'll phone later tomorrow— keep prongs in line for me. i'll see you soon, i promise."

you nod, to yourself, before replying, "i'll take your word! see you soon, pads."

and with that, the line goes dead. you stay in place for a moment, the phone cord still somehow, impossibly, wrapped around you. your eyes are shut, but you can still make out the bright light coming from your open window. you sigh, loudly, and follow it up by sliding off of the couch and onto the floor.

"you have to tell him, ya' know." lily says pointedly, and you open your eyes to stare at her. she's smiling down softly at you so give her one in return.

"not over the phone." you reply, simply.

mary removes the throw pillow she'd been using as a sun shade from her face, "obviously, better yet, how doesn't he know it yet."

james sends her an uncharacteristic reprimanding look and then says, "forgive pads for not being able to see the way she flounders for him through the telephone."

you shriek, "i do not flounder!"

the three of them look at you before breaking out with vindictive smirks, "oh— you most definitely do."

˖ ࣪⭑ ꒱

days pass after your last phone call with sirius, with no fault to him. no, you had become wrapped up entirely with work. all you'd know for the past few days was countless due dates and passive, yet direct, requests for you to stay "just a bit later."

but finally, here you were, arms wrapped around your legs as you sat on your barstool staring expectantly at your phone.

it was late already, as you had, again, stayed over at work. it was already eleven when you got home, so despite your microwavable dinner and rushed shower, time only seemed to fly forward.

but sirius had said he'd call before leaving japan. he had sworn on the voicemail.

so here you sat, towel wrapped around your hair, eyes heavy, and desperate to hear his voice.

almost on cue, the phone rings— and you let four go by before answering, "hello?"

you could hear chatter and hurried steps in the background, "hi love, sorry it's late. show went late, but i'm waiting for my plane now."

"you're fine! tell me about toyko— any bikes?" you question, noticing how coarse his voice came out.

he chuckled, "absolute shit. i saw one, puny little thing though. jax," he stops to explain who exactly jax is, "he's a sound guy— he took me to a street race the next day, but it's hard to enjoy any of it over all the fumes."

"we can't win 'em all," you sigh, "if it makes you feel any better, i forgot to file three patient reports this week, and dr. saion is very focused on me not forgetting it."

you hear him mutter something under his breath before clearing his throat, "he's a grouch, love— however," there was a smile on his lips, and you were sure you didn't need to see him to know, "it does seem as though my impending return is getting you flustered. and although i'm flattered—"

you cut him off, "it has nothing to do with you!" you tone was a bit too serious, so you follow it up with, "not that i'm not beaming for you to get back. i think me more than anyone, obviously."

sirius hums, "obviously?"

you scrunch your face at the word. fuck— no, of course not at all obvious to him.

"i am your best friend, aren't i?" you tease, saving yourself.

he tsks, "it seems you are, little love. oh, and i miss you too. frightfully so, i'm afraid."

you glow at the remark, trying to stifle the feeling out of your voice, "what time are you getting in?"

"god, what time is it there?" he asks, muffled a bit, probably looking around for a clock.

"twenty past two." you sigh.

"love, go to bed! you've got work in the morning, don't you?" he presses.

"fine— after you tell me when you'll be here." you chide, soft smile on your lips.

"if all goes well, half past nine. i promised james i'd apparate straight from the airport and to his. now, can you please get some sleep? finish the week strong, hm?" his tone was caring, and you felt inclined to adhere to his wishes.

"yes, of course, pads. i'll see you tomorrow, please, be safe." your eyes are now drooping, heart determined to talk for as long as possible and head demanding immediate sleep.

"i'm always safe," he chuckles, "but i promise, and i'll see you tomorrow, love. goodbye and good night."

eyes fully shut now and arm barely keeping the phone up, you mumble, "goodnight, sirius. i love you."

your eyes open wide at the words, in pause momentarily. it wasn't what you said that really shocked you— it was the way you said it.

"i love you." as though those words were a rope, tieing you and all of your unsaid confessions together just to unravel itself for sirius.

you pull the handset from your face, listening to the questionary call of your name. you can't say anything, so you just listen. sure that he must know now.

how could he not know?

moments pass before he speaks again, a little quieter this time, "i think you've fallen asleep on me— i, uh, god how do i hang this thing up?"

seconds before his voice sounds again, most of it too quiet for you to hear, "—you when i get home."

then the lines goes dead, the sound blaring into your ears.

when you finally stand up, you feel your head rush. you stand, staring at your phone. there's a fleeting moment where you expect him to call back, and demand an answer to your vibrant display. but minutes pass by with no ring so you head to your bed, a wreck of anxiety.

the covers are pulled over your head, and you're almost suffocated by your own breaths.

you know for certain that hours go by before you're able to sleep.

˖ ࣪⭑ ꒱

waiting with serious worry, you call james' name once more, the sound reverberating in your ear. you had mere minutes before you needed to leave work, and you think now, that it may have been a tad foolish to call james about last night's event.

but it weighed heavy on you all day— so much so that you're sure you've barely said more than four words to your co-workers.

"sorry, i think i just had the best laugh of the year over that." he finally says, voice ridden with humor.

you groan, "what if he..." you trail off.

"you've told him you loved him before? am i wrong here?" he asks.

there's a sigh from you, "it's the way i said it, prongs. i sounded like i belonged in casablanca—"

james interrupts you with a horrible transatlantic accent, "we'll always have paris."

"james." you huff.

"what? it's an excellent muggle film!" he chuckles, "not to worry though, this is the same sirius black, who until very recently, thought that alice and frank were just roommates."

this causes you to smile, "i refuse to say you're right, but, there may be a small chance that you're not too far off."

"merlin, woman, please workshop your gratitude." he jokes.

soon the conversation turns less dire and more excited, the both of you checking all the fine details for sirius' welcome home party. the plan, simple, meet at james' and make sure everything was perfect.

by the time you clocked out, you actually felt better. you gave soft smiles to the other nurses before all of you apparated away.

when you arrive at the potter's front door, you let yourself in.

"hi honey!" lily grabs you for a hug, "how was work?"

you shrug, "long— especially today."

you see both james and remus behind her, bickering over a welcome home banner.

she grins, "i overheard your little confession, you know? james has trouble with private conversations, even more when they're over the phone."

you cringe, "i knew i should've called mary."

lily laughs, guiding both of you toward the kitchen, "he was right though, nothing to stress over."

you lean against the island, "i think i'm more so anticipating how strange it'll be to see him again, now that, well."

your point is mute, but she nods in understanding.

"it's still sirius." she adds, pulling veggie boards out of the fridge.

you grab a few cucumbers and roll your eyes, suddenly much more interested in the wide array of trays and platters of food, "how much do you think a handful of people can eat?"

she looks down at the nearly cluttered island, "james insisted muggles didn't feed people on planes."

you furrow your brows.

"i find it's best when i don't correct him." there's a smile on her lips at the words.

the two of you slip into a comfortable silence, prepping punch, icing a shabby little cake, and trying to find space for all of the different food trays.

the hours fly by. you enjoy the prep though. you've managed to stop at least two petty arguments— both involving the very headfast james. there's little else to occupy yourself with, so you absentmindedly pull out copious amounts of plastic dinnerware and cups.

upon falling short of finding the rest of said cups, you find yourself outside, searching through james' shed. first bought to house sirius' bike and now used as a catch-all.

just as you spot the cups, there's rustling behind you. you freeze and pray to every god that there are no rabid animals living in this shed.

you turn, slowly, and are greeted by messy black hair, a smug smirk, and his deep voice, "fancy seeing you here, little love."

you hastily attempt to exit the maze of the shed, rushing the tall man into a tight hug.

"you should be inside!" you say, large grin overtaking your features.

sirius pulls away from you, letting his arms rest around you, "and not say hello to you first? never, little love."

you can't hide the way your face softens at his words, "i've really missed you, you know?"

he brightens, "of course, everyone kept telling me."

your eyes widen, "what do you mean?"

"mary, remus, lily, dorcas, james, frank— the whole lot. all the every talked about was you. which, i'll add, did bruise my ego." he admits, light-hearted.

you groan, "i'll never tell them secrets again."

sirius looks confused, "we have a secret?"

his tone is full of faux shock and your shake your head, "no, sir, i have the secret."

he lowers his mouth to your ear, "pray tell, what is this secret i've missed?"

you can't help the roll of your eyes, "don't play dumb, pads."

you feel his smile against you. seconds pass without words.

"i brought you something." he speaks finally, backing away from you to dig into his jacket pocket.

the way he dropped the previous conversation stuns you, so you watch wordlessly as he hands you a small green box.

you furrow your brows and he continues, "i, uh, got it back when we were in sydney."

you smile and open the box.

above plush white stuffing, sits a gold charm bracelet. you lift it up, studying it. only one charm hangs from it— a little telephone with red gems for buttons.

you look back to sirius, a stupid grin on your face, "i love it. thank you, really, you didn't have to."

he takes the box from you, setting it on a lawnchair before helping you clasp the bracelet on, "believe me, love, i most assuredly had to."

you look up at him, head mere inches from his own.

"i meant, or i thought better, to tell you now rather than before i left." he whispers, suddenly so earnest.

"tell me what?" you ask, barely above a whisper. you're far too focused on the way his hand never left your wrist, grasped so gingerly.

he blinks slowly before leaning into you, "just how i love you." his words are said with a smile.

you attempt to say something, but he shakes his head softly, "and how i so desperately want you to say it back."

you waste little time, "i love you too, sirius." your voice is breathy, but by the look in his eyes, you can tell he heard you.

he says nothing else, no, he just pulls you into him. his lips find yours in a soft kiss. it feels endearing, enthralling, something so perfect.

his lips taste of vanilla and menthol— and you're sure those two things shouldn't taste as addicting as they do. but they do.

you attempt to kiss him back in the same enchanting way, but more so, you attempt to keep your knees from faltering beneath you.

when you pull away, breathing heavily, you scan his flushed face. chuckling you admit, "i guess you uncovered my secret."

sirius smirks, "actually, you kept it pretty well guarded," he pauses, "until you told prongs."

you open your mouth, "how long?"

"have i known?" he asks, and you nod, "since i landed in italy."

you groan, "that wasn't even a month after you left!

he laughs, "what can i say, love— james isn't fit with secrets." he pulls you close again, staring at you lovingly, "besides, it doesn't matter. i got my girl."

there's a bright smile on your lips and you close your eyes, leaning your head on his chest.

"though, we may have to switch you out to a landline. if i remember correctly, mary may have something about your multiple phone cord incidents." he teases.

far too focused on the warmth of his chest and the beating of his heart, you smile, "not multiple, possibly three handfuls of incidents."

he kisses the top of your head, "you sweet thing, i adore you."

taglist <3

@slytherinambitious @ughgclden @fictionalcomforts @katherinadeluca @silverose365 @thehalfbloodedwitch @scrletletter @sanaz1dlol @call-sign-hurricane

[sunset-trio]

And so we arrive!

Blog status: Active

Asks in queue: 2

Why, hello there! Welcome to our little blog. First off, how about we introduce you to the trio at hand, hm?

🎪 Dimentio

(It's pronounced Dimen-she-oh)

Master of dimensions and pleaser of crowds, I am... Dimentio! He/They/Jest, thank you.

Nicknames include Dimen, Dim, and Dimmy. I'm open to receiving new ones.

When you see orange text, know that it's none other than I who typed whatever text you're reading. Same goes for when something is signed off with 🎪.

I may not post too often, but know that I love to lurk and observe. Any questions directed towards me are greatly appreciated; coming as a surprise to no one, I love the attention.

🌜 Moonjumper

Now freed from the Horizon, I am the Moonjumper! I go by He/Him, They/Them, and Star/Shine, if it isn't too much trouble to use those.

I go by the nickname MJ! Much like Dimentio, I'm more than happy to be given more nicknames.

I use blue text and the 🌜 emoji to let people know when something was posted by me.

Snatcher and I are likely going to be the ones posting the most. Though, expect the three of us to make plenty of posts together!

🖋️ The Snatcher

(Or just Snatcher, I guess)

You already know me, I'm sure. Y'know, king of Subcon Forest, stealer of souls, one of the most feared ghosts on my planet... The name of "The Snatcher" must already be sending a few chills down your spine! Oh, and I use he/him.

Nicknames include: your royal highness, my king, your greatness, most esteemed ruler of Subcon Forest, etc.

Purple text and the 🖋️ emoji for me.

I'm sure you're just dying to know all about me, huh? Guess you're in luck then, kiddo! Ask away. Or, alternatively, feel free to start up a little chat. Maybe I'll be nice and play along.

RULES:

Yes, yes, we know rules are boring, but they exist for a reason, unfortunately.

We take no issue with you having your own head canons on our source characters, but please don't be rude if we don't conform to your head canons/popular fandom head canons.

Simping and flirting is acceptable— in fact, we find it quite flattering— so long as it isn't taken into explicit territory.

No NSFW! We're going for a PG-13 rating on this blog, so behave yourselves, please. /lighthearted

These three do not have very pleasant backstories. We'll obviously give warnings when needed, but be aware that topics of mental health and generally not happy things are going to come up eventually.

DNI: TERFs, racists, islamaphobes, anti-semites, zionists, transphobes, homophobes, pro-shippers; basic DNI criteria.

[thornshadowwolf]

There's a word I try to use ALL THE TIME that apparently doesn't actually exist in English. IDK if it does in another language I speak and maybe that's where I picked it up?

I usually go to "facetious," "ostentatious," or "obstinate," but those are not quite it (tho the last is close).

It means something along the lines of "being difficult on purpose, often as an attempt at humor or smugness at the expense of the others in the conversation."

Closely related to contrarianism. It's like... the point in a debate where you realize the person is just arguing for the sake of arguing because it makes them feel better than you. A lot of "um, actually"s are this. The attitude of a person you'd rather just ignore in a discussion because you know responding to them will go nowhere (but oftentimes they insist). Not necessarily rooted in disingenuity though. Might be convinced of their own superiority? Not always though; it's not always done seriously. Might be done in jest but it is still meant to be annoying. Attitude / behavior that you'd say "ok, now you're just being [word]" (if more lighthearted) or "don't be [word]" (if seriously pissed) in response to. Can immediately take a mildly frustrating or exasperating discussion and turn it into seething rage acutely directed at the other person.

[metalsiren-a]

𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥.

                            ——  𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭  𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬  𝐬𝐡𝐞  𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬  𝐢𝐬  𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝  𝐢𝐧  𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬,  a  pair  of  doc  martens  still  cover  her  feet.  perhaps  to  most  they'd  pair  it  with  sandals  or  heels,  but  sawyer  never  intends  to  lose  the  edge  to  her  self  expression,  even  when  dressed  in  the  pinnacle,  quintessential  item  for  cottagecore.  the  dress  is  pale  yellow,  a  little  short  with  the  hem  brushing  against  her  thighs,  with  puffy  sleeves  and  a  low  neckline,  offering  reprieve  from  the  heat  as  the  beeze  is  able  to  grace  the  skin  that's  exposed.  it  must  be  a  shock  to  @fuckedprophet ,  though  perhaps  with  their  lack  of  deep  frendship  it's  nothing  too  out  of  left  field.

                            ❛ just  when  i  thought  it  couldn't  get  any  hotter, ❜  a  gentle  tease  posed  in  his  direction  as  her  lips  pull  into  a  cheeky  grin,  ❛ what're  you  doin'  all  the  way  out  here,  texas? ❜  such  a  nickname  is  done  in  jest,  their  stint  on  tour  together  allotting  them  the  ability  to  find  common  ground  and  lighthearted  inside  jokes. 

[be4tdown]

he was guilty of many things [ ... ] not quite knowing when to put a halt on his playful banter would be one to add to the never ending list. NEVER KNOWING IF HE'S GONE TOO FAR UNTIL IT'S TOO LATE , and hurting feelings in the process. ( but she could take it like a champ ) and deliver her own blows with a daring silver tongue ; it became more harmless the further their back and forth went —— clever retorts beginning to run dry and being replaced with devilish smiles and gazes with an intense burn as though attempting to ignite a fire within the other. HE STOOD EXPECTING ANOTHER HIT , patiently waiting for the next lighthearted gunshot to his chest with corners of lips twitching into a grin. but the venom spat in his direction wasn't as poisonous as he anticipated. he swallowed it whole with ease.

@twcbelts: bite me.

❛❛ ooh— ❜❜ lips twisting and it's an exaggerated coo as if her words had burned him , as if they had struck him directly where it hurt most. tattooed hand would find his chest and the beating heart beneath it to temporarily sell his pain. AND A LAUGH COULDN'T BE CONTAINED MUCH LONGER , crawling out from the depths of his throat. ❛❛ damn , that one really hurt , becks— ❜❜ [ ... ] hand fell as his jesting demeanor hardened just enough before continuing. ❛❛ si asi lo quieres , we can play that game too. ❜❜

[roboticutie]

is your post about the origin of “i like your shoelaces” a joke? i’ve been on tumblr since 2011 and iirc the chat log demo always said “tourist: can you give me directions to an olive garden? new yorker: no but i can give you directions to a real italian restaurant”

obviously you could be right, but i don’t remember the chat log ever reading that way and i do very clearly remember people riffing on the olive garden demo text for years afterward (especially when the steal your breadsticks meme came about) always referencing where it came from. the earliest mention i can find of “i like your shoelaces” is the infamous post from 2012. there’s no reference to it any earlier, which you would think there would be given how off the wall that question/answer set is.

anyway, did you just make up your reply to that post? i feel like maybe you made it up (all in good jest)

lol honestly no!!! I've been under that impression for... Fuck. I guess 8 years now? Since 2014-ish, I must've been 13 or 14, I've legit thought it must have been demo text at some point and some others were just as confused as I was. We probably were not like, a majority of tumblr users thinking this, by any means. It was just a genuine mistake that's turned out I guess kind of funny now?

No one has been mean about it either, all the corrections I've gotten are along the lines of your ask here of like. Firmly remembering but not with any cruel intention while telling me so, and I think you are (and others who have brought it to my attention) correct! At this point I'm not sure where the misunderstanding on my part came from either. Thanks for being straight forward and clear that this was lighthearted, it helped me understand your tone better, btw!

I've tried looking back at it to figure out where that thought process kinda formed from... and I think it had something to do with how Sure the addition of "remember, the response is Thanks I stole them from the President." was. Like I could not comprehend that someone else just made it up bc it was so weird and flowed too naturally and the phrasing made it sound like it was coming from somewhere well known to tumblr users, that I assumed it really must have come somewhere from tumblr itself. I do remember seeing chat posts formatted as I did in the post you're referring to, also. Those two things must have come together to just... Make sense to me, so I remembered wrong, and I never had reason to question it until now!

Also I miss the breadsticks memes. Those were fun

[yantao-enthusiast]

I totally get what you’re saying re Maroon, but I just think that Taylor has made such a point about connecting it to Red— both with the overwhelming red imagery that connects to how she initially described loving him in the song Red and the fact that she wore the Red album ring in the mmwm video revealing Maroon— that it has to be her looking back now on what initially inspired that album. The “real fucking legacy” line imo is very directed at Jake, who has talked extensively in interviews about how he’s very concerned with the legacy he’ll leave behind (I would imagine that’s also something he brought up while they were dating, since it seems very important to him).

He also very infamously had a roommate while they were dating (there was a lot of speculation about him and his roommate potentially being more than friends at the time), so the “your roommate’s cheap ass screw top rosé” line definitely fits. I also believe he was living in New York at the time but I may be mistaken on that— I do know that the first time they were spotted together was at the filming of an SNL episode in New York and the infamous photos of him and Taylor out together with Taylor’s arm around his shoulder were taken in New York, where they also spent Thanksgiving together. They clearly spent a lot of time in New York while they were dating, so the “dancing in New York” line fits with him as well.

And according to songs on Red, they went off and on again for a while after the initial end of the relationship— it’s what’s described in WANEGBT, in ATW10 she talks about how he “never called it what it was / til we were dead and gone and buried / check the pulse and come back swearing it’s the same / after three months in the grave” aka that they broke up then got back together three months later with a much less cohesive/healthy dynamic, The Last Time describes a relationship that keeps ending then starting over again because they keep coming back to it despite promising that this would be the last time, etc. I think Maroon is describing one of those times where they came back to it even though in retrospect they both should have known better. Overall I just think it fits Jake a lot better than it fits Harry— that’s just my opinion though.

But I totally agree on Question being about Harry — she literally samples OOTW at the beginning of it as an indicator (which imo is also what she was doing with the red imagery in Maroon and dropping “at nineteen” in WCS— she made a point of including these very clear obvious references to her previous work to indicate what she was looking back on/re-examining in these songs)

i don't know if you're the same anon that also gave me a long ask also kinda related to taylor but either way damn guess i'm just the kind of wrong that evokes the need to write scholarly argumentative essays (lighthearted LOL) i gotta say i do appreciate being told these things especially with all this evidence despite my jest!!

also yeah i was thinking "if it is about harry, what is the point about all the dark red imagery...." like ten minutes after making that post lmao.... sometimes i do just be talking out my own ass and someone needs to set me straight! and with all the things you mentioned with her being in new york with jake and all the back and forth in their relationship also mentioned in red... some could say i'm impressionable (or maybe i just have the ability to listen and have an open mind) but yeah after reading that i would say you're right that it's much more likely it is about jake lol also... the braincells were not clicking At All, they were having wine and harry was literally like 18 when they were dating.... (i know underage drinking is a thing but still much less likely)

and yes!!! i do love how midnights looks back on all these things in her life, not just in her recent life, sharing more perspective on these relationships. and another thing about question (in my opinion) is how a lot of the 1989 vault tracks give off midnights vibes!! like especially question easily could've been a 1989 vault track, which tracks even more with the fact that it's about harry. but that's just like a vibe thing, nothing really solid !! (watch this be another horrible take askjdkdsfh)

anyways thanks again!!! tbh i always love receiving asks even if they're just a couple hundred words (rightfully) telling me why i'm wrong AHAHA

[mrvlbimbo]

Justice: chapter three

Vigilante x reader

Masterlist here

If it works for Superman, it works for me

There wasn’t much to do and Peacemaker was busy with his lady friend so they both went home. The next day they made it their personal mission to track down their friend at work, thinking it would be a fun challenge.

Early that morning Vigilante had woken up to a pounding at the door. He opened it to see a disheveled woman wearing a pair of blacked out glasses. He instantly recognized it was her.

He didn’t open the door until he put his mask on. When he did allow her entrance she offered him a stiff smile. “I’m still trying to get over how stupid your disguise is,” he commented, his voice still low and raspy from sleep.

“If it works for Superman it works for me,” she replied matter of factly, sitting down in his kitchen to wait for him to get the rest of his clothes on. Not that the view of him in only sweatpants and his mask wasn’t an enjoyable sight.

When he returned he was fully clothed, which was slightly disappointing. “So what’s up?” he asked, sitting down across the table from her.

“Wanna go snoop around and figure out what Chris is up to?” she offered. Not waiting for an answer, she got up and went to the fridge. She grabbed a piece of bread and a beer and continued, “you’re driving.”

He shrugged and followed her out the door, taking the keys and following her directions. She stared intently at her phone and every couple minutes she told him where to turn. “Do you have a tracker on him?” Vigilante asked.

She just nodded and gave him the next direction. That was to park the car and get out so they could walk the rest of the way. When they got to the warehouse they could hear the muffled voices of Peacemaker and his team so they hid behind a dumpster.

Their plan worked for like five seconds before they were discovered. “Who's the guy peeking out behind the trash can?” one of them asked. They stepped into the open, embarrassed at being caught.

Peacemaker covered for them “Oh those are my friends. Vigilante and Lady Justice.”

“It’s not Lady Justice anymore. That’s a stupid ass name and I hate it,” she snapped.

“But my dad gave you that name,” Peacemaker replied with a confused frown.

“And your dad is a racist piece of shit.” Her response was met with a nodding of heads from the rest of the group.

She ignored as Vigilante chatted with them and when it was time to go she left, annoyed by the whole thing. He jogged back to the car while humming a song and she didn’t have it in her to tell him to stop. “So… what’s your new secret identity?” he questioned once they were in the car.

To his surprise she didn’t rush to start the car and ignore the question, she actually offered an answer. “Nightwatch,” she answered.

“Isn’t that a little too close to Nightwing?” he shot back, trying to strike up a conversation.

“He said it was fine,” she replied, a slight smirk on her face because she knew it would get a reaction out of him.

“You know Nightwing?!” he yelped, unable to contain his excitement.

“And Red Hood,” she added, almost bragging at this point.

“Wow, he’s like my idol. Could you maybe introduce us?” he asked softly, not wanting to be too pushy or sound desperate.

Her lighthearted jest ended with that comment. There wasn’t really anything for her to say except, “Eh, that’s gonna be a no. Things ended pretty badly between us.”

He just nodded not knowing what to say. And then he thought for a moment and nodded again. “Oh…” he tried to figure out what she meant by that. Then it hit him “Ohhhhh,” he exclaimed.

She giggled at his reaction and continued driving. “Wanna do a patrol?” she offered, not really knowing how else to spend their time while they waited for Peacemaker to need their help.

“Sure,” he replied, a toothy grin hidden by his mask.

There wasn’t much crime happening during the day. They managed to catch some kids skipping school to smoke weed and they sent them back but that was about it.

They chatted intermittently as they made their way about the town, looking for criminals. “Ok. What was your best kill?” Vigilante asked while throwing one of her knives at a man who was running away with someone’s purse.

“Ohhh. I killed this big time mob boss back in Gotham, it was basically the coolest thing ever,” she explained, pride lacing her voice.

“OH MY GOD! That is literally the coolest thing ever. I’m in love with you!” he exclaimed before jogging over to grab her knife and return the purse to its owner. There was something mind numbingly adorable about him, like a golden retriever puppy.

After a few rounds of the neighborhood it was starting to get dark so they decided to track Chris down. They found him and the rest of his team set up outside of a house with a sniper rifle. It seemed like he was trying to shoot them but he was shaking.

Viliante carefully stepped over to him and took the gun, firing off three shots before the three of them were knocked unconscious.

When they woke up they were in some weird cave. All of them had been tied up and their disguises had been removed. The man was focusing on Vigilante who was trying to contort his face in a way where the attacker wouldn’t be able to know his identity.

“What the fuck are you doing, Vigilante?” Peacemaker questioned.

“If I rapidly change my facial expressions he won’t be able to pick me up out of a police lineup,” he explained, not stopping his movements even when he spoke.

“Who are you and who sent you?” The man demanded. This was the senator they were supposed to assassinate. But his body guard had stopped them before they could get to him.

“I’m not telling you shit,” Peacemaker spat at him, a clear defiance in his tone.

It was too late when they realized that their captor had a pair of jumper cables hooked to their friend’s crotch area. So when Chris refused to answer Vigilante was met with quite a shock.

Peacemaker didn’t budge. Nightwatch however, struggled in her seat and screamed obscenities at the man. But because Chris wouldn’t give him any information, he continued to torture Vigilante.

His cries were like nails on a chalkboard to her and as the man continued to get no answers, she feared for her friend’s safety. “Please torture me instead. Peacemaker cares more about me anyways,” she offered, her voice nothing but a broken whisper.

Not satisfied with the answers he was getting, he decided to change his method. He ripped her hair tie out and grabbed her by the end of her hair, tugging her and her chair across the room.

While he was getting started on her, Peacemaker struck up a conversation with Vigilante to keep himself from focusing on her being tortured. He mentioned knowing Vigilante’s older brother.

Since the conversation of secret identities was brought up and she had been dying to say something about it she joined in. “Hey, V. You never told me you were hot.”

“Oh well… I’m… I never thought to mention it?” he responded but it came out as more of a question.

She chuckled as a knife slid down the side of her neck. “Yeah, when we get out of here remind me to get a better look at the rest of ya’” she mumbled in a suggestive tone.

There was no indication she felt pain when the senator cut a gash in her arm with the knife. The only movement was her sending a wink across the room at Vigilante. Due to the lack of mask she could see that his face was flushed and that almost made the pain worth it.

Numerous gashes were added to her figure and just as many snide comments had fallen from her lips but there was still no answer from Peacemaker. The torture was taking a toll on everyone, even the man perpetuating it. When he realized he wasn’t going to get anything out of her he went back to Vigilante.

“She’s fucking crazy. This one is more sympathetic,” he commented, taking a pair of sharpened pliers and starting to make an incision on his pinkie toe. Vigilante let out a shrill scream but before things could get any further the green gooey entrance to the cave was blown open and everyone in the area was thrown back.

Nightwatch took the chance to grab a large hammer from the table and drive it through the man’s skull, stomping on his head again for good measure. Then she ran over to Viliante and helped him out of his restraints.

Careful not to step on his toe, she pulled him into a bone crushing hug. “Fucking hell. That was insane,” she murmured, letting herself stay there in his arms for a moment while Chris dealt with the butterfly out of sight.

He quickly noticed the dark red staining her clothes and he felt a sense of dread fill his body. “Let’s get you out of here,” he offered, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they leaned their weight on each other and limped out of the cave.

A/N: tyyy all sm for all the support <3 I’m trying to get another chapter out by tomorrow night but school is pretty crazy rn ://// anyways I hope ur enjoying the fic :)

[wearywinchester]

Been Loving You

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: After never having the nerve to tell each other how you feel, an opportunity presents itself even if it takes a little work.

Requested by Anonymous: Hi! Since your requests are on. Can you write a fluff/angst dean and reader fic, they both have feelings for each other and they're too insecure to admit it. And dean flirts with another girl and introduces her to the reader, reader acts like she's fine but then cries??

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: angst, flirting, mild heartbreak, jealousy, arguing, little bit of swearing, fluff, kissing

July, 2005

The day was breezy and warm, the clouds having lessened the heat that came with being in the midst of the summer season. Even if the clouds did nothing to stave off the effect of the sun you’d like to believe it actually had been, and you refused to think otherwise or else you just might break another sweat. You were tucked away in the middle of Bobby’s property amongst a lot full of cars ranging from totaled to rusty to salvageable should he feel like getting his hands dirty that day. He didn’t.

But one person that did was Dean Winchester.

You stood with your arms crossed over your chest, staring out over the dozens of car roofs, each one holding their own story as to just how it was they got there in the first place.

“Wrench,” Dean called out at some point, an instruction you only half heard. It was growing increasingly obvious that your mind was elsewhere, that your attention was directed at the puffy gray clouds in the distance. He’d noticed, peeking his head around the Impala from where’d he’d been working under the hood for an amount of time you lost track of. “Sweetheart, wrench.”

You turned your head at the nickname, a brief look of confusion crossing your face before you realized what it was he’d said. You rolled your eyes at the look on his face, one that softened to a smile as you handed over the wrench grasped in your hand. He took it with a shake of his head and a laugh not quiet enough for you to miss, and you breathed out a sigh.

“You’re a terrible helper, you know,” he jests, voice muffled from where he stood.

“Pretty sure I didn’t ask to help you, De,” you say, leaning back against an old truck.

“Too bad,” he says, flashing you a smile all while you furrowed your brows and pursed your lips at his words.

“Why not have Sam help you? I’m sure he knows more about cars than me.”

You heard him laugh again, head shaking at your assumption that Sam had any form of a clue on how to fix a car, let alone Dean’s car. The thought of Sam under a hood had him chuckling, the idea all too humorous. He pulled back to look at you. “First of all, he definitely wouldn’t. Second of all…”

He trails off, looking at you with a half smirk on his lips.

“What?” You inquire, amused curiosity in your tone.

“Sammy’s just not you,” he shrugs, a glimmer in his eyes as he leans back over the engine.

Your smile falls for just a moment as your heart skips a beat, that very smile returning once you realize just what it was that he had said. He’s just not you. You turned away and looked over your shoulder, a pitiful attempt to hide the way you couldn’t stifle your smile, your cheeks burning at what it was that could mean. Maybe it meant something and maybe it didn’t. But either way it’d surely be stuck on your mind for a ridiculous amount of time.

But soon your attention turns back to the very person that it’s always been on, and you were bound to be teased if he’d caught you staring but the thought didn’t sound quite so bad at that moment. In your defense, it was hard not to think about much else other than the way his brows furrow when he’s stumped on just what he wants to fix next, or the way his cheeks flushed ever so lightly under the sun, his freckles all the more prominent across the bridge of his nose. Smudges of grease had stained his t-shirt, painted across his knuckles and smeared on his forehead each and every time he’d wiped the sweat off with the back of his hand.

Maybe it was that, or maybe it was the way his necklace had dangled down and swung there until he finally got irritated enough to tuck it in his shirt with a mumble of a swear and a clench of his jaw. That was something, though—no matter how frustrated repairing this beloved car of his made him, no matter how much he huffed and puffed and tossed his tools down with a bit more force than necessary. It was the way his anger seemed to melt each time he’d looked at you, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile before he turned to try again with a better attitude.

Yeah, that was it.

You hadn’t realized just how distracted you’d been until you felt a hand on your cheek, calloused and warm, and when you looked up your eyes met the taunting green gaze of the older Winchester staring down at you. Your breath caught in your throat as the pad of his thumb brushed along your cheek, cheeks that burned under his palm and the way he’d been gazing had your heart pounding in your chest. Racing until you saw the familiar quirk pulling at his lips.

“Got a little somethin’ on your face,” he says, smiling an all too knowing smile.

You roll your eyes, turning away from him with a huff as you begin to walk away. “I’m eating the last slice of pie for that.”

You heard the metallic clink of a tool leave his hand and hit the ground, “no—no you’re not! That has my name on it and you know it.”

You shake your head as you quicken your pace, a smile on your lips as the butterflies in your stomach remain.

October, 2005

You stood in the small, one person bathroom, back to the mirror as you leaned against the small porcelain sink. The tears were already rimming your eyes as you stood there, having been at that same restaurant for forty-five minutes waiting for your date to show up even though you knew it’d been a bust after you’d waited the first fifteen minutes. You were miserable and embarrassed, and this was the exact reason you didn’t like going on dates in the first place.

Your hand was shaky as you pressed Dean’s name, holding your phone up to your ear as it rang all but two times.

He’d make a joke when he answered the phone, something you more than expected by that point each and every time you called him, especially when he knew you were on a date with a guy he’d been poking fun at the whole ride to the restaurant until he’d dropped you off. You couldn’t blame him, maybe you could, but that was just in his nature and there was no changing that.

“Was brown eyes that boring?”

His laugh sounded on the other end, lighthearted and upbeat in a way that had a soft huff leaving your lips as you rolled your eyes at his words.

“Dean,” you grumble, letting your eyes fall closed for a moment.

“Oh, come on. You know I’m not wrong. I just—”

“Dean.”

The simple use of his name that time had effectively cut him and his teasing short, leaving a beat of silence as you swallowed thickly now that you had his full attention. You didn’t even need to see him to be able to picture just what kind of expression he’d been wearing at the moment.

“Can you come pick me up?”

You hated how fragile your voice sounded, something you immediately cover up as you clear your throat in a pitiful attempt to distract him from it. You knew it wouldn’t but it was worth the effort anyway, anything to ease the fact that it must have been obvious that you were hurting.

It’d been all of ten minutes before the rumble of an engine came into earshot as you sat on the curb that bordered the restaurant, gathering more than a few stares of people showing up with their dates in tow. You knew it must have been obvious what you were moping about. The headlights were near blinding as he pulled up next to you, and you were on your feet in an instant as you sulked to the car and slumped in your rightful seat. Your misery was more than evident to him as he sat in the parking lot for a minute much to your dismay.

“Are you okay?” He asks, louder than he meant to be as he gave you a once over.

“Peachy.”

He rolls his eyes. “Are you hurt?”

“Just my ego,” you mumble with a huff, though you soften at the concern sounding in his voice. “‘M fine, Dean.”

His jaw tensed as he looked at you, lingering on the glimmer on your cheeks from the fresh tears you’d tried to wipe away. At the way your bottom lip quivered in a way that was all too telling that you weren’t peachy, you couldn’t be farther from it.

He hadn’t even wanted you to go on that date in the first place, jealousy having simmered in the pit of his stomach since the moment you told him about it. He didn’t even need to see the guy to know he wasn’t good enough for you, that he was up to no good. He hated the tone of your voice when you called him, he hated that he was right. Not that he thought he was good enough for you, not even remotely did he think that, but when you told him about brown eyes, he wanted to be selfish and have you to himself for the night. He wanted to be the one to take you out on that date.

“He’s a dick,” he said quietly, anger woven around his words as he looked at you. “And he damn sure doesn’t deserve you.”

You looked down at your lap, picking at the loose string of your dress. “Can we please go?”

He looked at you as you went and looked out of the window, jaw clenching even tighter as he gave you one more glance. He put the car in drive without another word, tires squealing as he sped out of the parking lot, headed back towards the motel.

March, 2006

The sticks cracked beneath two pairs of muddied boots, the sound near deafening in contrast to the silence amongst the woods you and Dean had found yourself in. It wouldn’t have been quite so bad if you knew where you’d been going even just a little bit, and it wouldn’t have been quite so bad if the sun wasn’t dipping lower and lower into the sky. Not to mention the fact that Dean was simmering in his own anger, and you were fairly certain that you were the cause. In fact, you knew you were.

The light rain that sprinkled over you ever so slightly through the trees hadn’t done very much to work in your favor, though you don’t think anything could at this point. Especially not the scrape grazing your cheek.

“Would you quit huffing? We’ll find a way out of here,” you finally say, nearly smacking into his back when he stops in front of you.

“Right, because we’re totally not stuck in the middle of freakin’ nowhere. If it weren’t for you we’d be out of here by now,” he snaps, brows furrowed deeply as he looks down at you.

“Oh, so this is my fault now?”

He laughed then, humorless as he looked away and shook his head, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. You knew he was dangerously close to snapping, more than he already did, but even then you couldn’t find it in yourself to tread lightly.

“If I recall correctly, it was your brilliant plan to go and run off and chase a werewolf all by yourself in the woods. You went and got yourself hurt and you nearly got yourself killed. That seems a lot to me like how we got into this mess, doesn’t it, Y/n?”

“Dean—”

“You’re lucky you only came out of there with a scrape on your cheek and a busted lip.”

Your brows knit together and your fists clench, nearly on the verge of tears with how frustrated you’d been at the green eyed Winchester fuming in front of you. “Why are you so mad? I’m here aren’t I?”

He looked as if you’d asked the most ridiculous question he’s ever heard in his life. “Mad? Why am I so mad? You went out there today like you’re invincible. I’m angry because I—”

He cut himself short then, shaking his head as he looked away from you. Those three words were so close on the tip of his tongue he nearly made a fool of himself, his heart pounding and a huff puffing through flared nostrils as you nearly watched him unravel in front of you. The crease between your brows deepens as you watch his inner turmoil, fists relaxing at your sides.

“Forget it,” he says, just as frustrated as he plays it off and looks down at you just briefly. His jaw clenches once more before he hikes his bags up further in his shoulder, grabbing your hand and turning his back to you. “Can’t have you getting lost on me again.”

You roll your eyes but not once did you pull your hand from his.

July, 2006

Your eyes rolled for what had to be the millionth time that night as you slumped further down in your seat, your eyes lingering on the older Winchester and the girl he’d been flirting with at the bar counter for the last half an hour. Sam had caught on to the source of your misery not long after it began, but between the pout you tried so desperately to hide and the way it started right around the time his brother started talking to the pretty girl serving drinks just a few feet away, it wasn’t hard to figure out.

“Am I boring you?” Sam jests, closing the book of notes and newspaper clippings he’d been working from for the next hunt. Your gaze lifts from the table to meet his gaze, unamused by his teasing. “You know, instead of sulking, you could tell him how you feel.”

You snort as you sit up in your seat, dragging your hand down your face. “Sam, that might be the stupidest idea you’ve ever had.”

“Oh, come on. Would it be so bad?”

One glance over your shoulder had your stomach churning and twisting in knots, your gaze moving back to the brunette with the bad ideas. “Yes Sam, it would be terrible.”

The more you sat at that table the less you wanted to be there, the music having grown far too loud for your liking as a headache began to form. This wasn’t the first or the second time you’d been to this bar, it was the third because Dean had eyes for the beautiful bartender. Your food was nearly completely untouched and your drink the same, though you were starting to think it might be a good idea to go ahead and down it but there wasn’t nearly enough time to do that and get another argument in with Sam before that ever familiar voice got your attention.

“Everyone,” he starts, smiling ear to ear as his arm wrapped around her. “I’d like you to meet Julie.”

His grin was beaming as she laughed into his neck, whispering something in his ear that you surely didn’t want to know. Sam’s smile in your direction was as empathetic as ever, your heart sinking down to your stomach as you swirl your straw in your drink. The room was rapidly becoming more suffocating and stuffy, the commotion near nauseating as the pressure behind your eyes deepened. You couldn’t be there another moment.

“I’m feeling a little tired, I—I think I’m gonna go,” you say as you swallow down the lump in your throat, sudden as you rise from your seat and grab your bag.

The smile on Dean’s face fell slightly, brows furrowing. “You okay?”

“‘M fine,” you say, offering a smile as you brush past the pair in favor of making your way to the door.

The outside air, though not very much cooler than the bar, felt better on your skin as you clutched the strap of your bag. The tears that welled in your eyes wasted no time in spilling over your cheeks now that you were alone, lip quivering pitifully as the hurt in your heart seeped out in waves and made your tears fall faster. They rolled down your heated cheeks and raced along the length of your neck, gathering on the collar of your shirt one after another.

Falling in love with your best friend doesn’t seem so bad until it breaks your heart.

September, 2006

Of all the people to be trapped in a storm with, Dean Winchester isn’t one you’d wanted it to be. The rain had been coming down so hard you could barely see the Impala parked outside the motel room. The wind whipping around had cut the power, effectively stealing your chances of busying yourself with some tv to take your mind off of anything other than the man you shared a room with.

Locking yourself in the bathroom would certainly be an option you’d weighed over more than once in your mind, but the thought of sitting alone in a small room with absolutely no source of light hadn’t been something that enticing to you. The only light in the motel room was the frequent flash of lightning and Dean’s flashlight before the batteries died.

“When’s this storm supposed to die down?” He asked from his bed, getting up to peek out through the blinds.

“Why? You late for a date with Julie?”

It’s quiet for a few moments, the blinds snapping back once he lets go of them and you could feel his stare on you as you looked up at the ceiling from your spot on your bed. Your jaw clenched as another flash of lightning illuminated the room, a booming crack of thunder soon to follow it. You were just waiting for what he had to say.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” There it was.

“I think it’s pretty clear,” you say, tone as witty as it’d been for the last who-knows-how-long.

“We broke up a month ago, Y/n. ‘M surprised you don’t already know that. You know, since you’re the know it all of the friendship.”

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see you, a huff falling past your lips. “Quit it, Dean.”

“What is your problem, Y/n? You’ve been actin’ funny for weeks and it’s driving me crazy. You’re taking every chance you get to get away from me,” he says, anger woven around his every word as his voice raises over the thunder.

“I can’t exactly do that right now,” you say, rolling over on your side as you avoid his question and turn your back to him instead.

You heard him laugh to himself, one void of humor as the springs of his mattress squeak under his weight as he sat down. Your jaw tenses once more as you huff through your nose, loud enough for him to hear as you tried your best to make yourself comfortable for the night.

The emotions clouding your mind were bound to boil over at some point before the night is over now that you’d been stuck with the source of your heartache and you weren’t sure if you’d rather stay or walk through the downpour coming down outside. The more you thought on it, the more you thought better of it despite how tempting it may have been.

The simple sight of him had tugged at your heart, making you think of just how foolish it was to fall for your best friend, or perhaps even more so that you hadn’t told him before. You couldn’t get Sam’s words out of your head no matter how hard you tried. If Sam of all people thinks you should have then maybe it wouldn’t have been a bad idea to put your heart on the line. Maybe you should’ve said it, you certainly had plenty of opportunities to do it. But it didn’t matter anymore, not really, your heart was heavy and your mind was heavier as you sulked and moped in your own misery.

You pushed away your own best friend and it was time you’d never get back, all because you had feelings you couldn’t swallow down. But they were always there, and now they’d gone and boiled over.

“You wanna know why it didn’t work out between us?” He asks, sudden as his question cuts through the quiet in the room save for the ongoing storm. You don’t say a word, laying still as your gaze is fixed on the wall and your back remains to him. You don’t know what he could possibly say or what it was supposed to make you feel but you couldn’t find it in yourself to press for an answer. If he told you, fine, but if he didn’t—

“It didn’t work because she wasn’t you.”

You stilled even more if that was possible, your heart skipping more than a few beats as your brows furrow. You were utterly baffled, unsure if you’d even heard him correctly or if it was some dream you’d been having that you were bound to wake up from. Your movement was sudden as you sat up and turned around, the faint bit of light illuminating the expression you held.

“What?”

He sat across from you on the edge of his bed, brows knit together in the dim lighting. He laughed softly as he looked at his hands, shaking his head. He stood to his feet and ran his hands through his hair, pacing a bit before he stood still.

“You’re my best friend, Y/n. You’re a pain in the ass, sure, but you’re my best friend,” he starts, your lips pursing as he cracked a smile. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it lately, I really don’t. But I’ve been lovin’ you since I was sixteen and it took me ten years and a month full of you ignoring me to see it. She’s not you, Y/n.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He laughed softly, rubbing his face and releasing a sigh.

“Because, my life isn’t exactly a chick flick where the guy gets the girl of his dreams, is it, sweetheart? It’s more of a tragic Lifetime movie where the guy’s best friend falls for someone else,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he looked at his feet.

You swallowed thickly as you looked at him, cheeks burning and stomach filled with butterflies that raged in your stomach. You were at a loss for words as you sat there, starting to wonder for the second time that night if what you were hearing was a dream. Dean Winchester, your best friend, the one you’d spend the better part of ten years pining after, was in love with you. You couldn’t grasp that thought. Not that you had much time to before he spoke up.

“Sweetheart, please say something. I know you’re mad at me but right now I’m starting to feel a little bit like a complete idiot and I—”

Before he could finish you’d already stood to your feet and grabbed the collar to his leather jacket, your lips on his without second thought. It took him by surprise for just a moment before his hands settled on your face, his smile pressing into your lips. You pulled away for just a second, his lips lingering over yours in hopes you wouldn’t stray too far. You wouldn’t, just enough for you to say one more thing.

“You are an idiot.”

He huffed out a soft laugh as his breath brushed warmly against your lips, hands dropping from your face in favor of pulling you closer before he dipped down and kissed you again.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes

[colon-tf-colon]

i get out of an exam and see more mcsr vs d-man and illu discourse.

im fucking tired. people genuinely not understanding each others stances, these are the worst debates I've seen.

in direct response to dream from like 3 days ago or whatever - i promise to make good minecraft speedrunning content this summer and you can watch it :)

(a little joke. a little humour. it's not directed at dream. he wont see this. its a little goofy goober, a lil meme, a jest, a josh, a prank, a little lighthearted humour)

[thexanwillshine]

a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.

[koumine]

Simeon x Lucifer feels are coming back around 🤍💖🖤 [LUMDS snippets] [OM!]

summary: snippet A - Simeon-and-Lucifer, a complementary pair, back in the Celestial Realm. // snippet B - Rekindling their friendship, not long after Simeon arrives in the Devildom.

tags: queerplatonic Simeon x Lucifer, fluff and a tiny bit of angst.

Notes: full fic (light up my darkest skies) coming ~someday~ and will be rated E. Other preview snippets from this fic can be found in my [masterlist]!

[rated G below] [WIP ZONE]

It goes like this: Already close friends, they grow even closer, start "living in each other's pockets", a human world phrase that Lilith picks up and teasingly bestows upon them. Lucifer's never sure who, but someone starts calling them Simeon-and-Lucifer, as though it's all one name, as though the two of them are one entity, and it spreads until all of the seraphs and quite a few of the lesser angels and even Michael himself are calling them that in lighthearted jest. "I think it's cute," Simeon says when Lucifer complains to him about it.

Lucifer sighs and shakes his head. "Of course you do." "Why don't you?" Simeon asks curiously, putting his hand over Lucifer's where it's tucked into Simeon's elbow. Lucifer thinks about it. "It's…" A pair of angels comes by on the garden path, so Simeon smiles and greets them, like he always does. "Simeon-and-Lucifer, greetings!" they say. "Hello, Edith-and-Anais!" Simeon says back, gently teasing, making the other two laugh. "Out for an evening constitutional? Oh, by the way --" he stops on the path, forcing Lucifer to stop with him. "Anais, how fares your sister?" "Much better, thank you, Simeon," Anais says warmly. "After you came to speak with her last week, she took your advice to heart and is feeling better and better with every day that passes." "That's wonderful!" Simeon says, radiant in his sincerity. "And Edith, you may need to remind me to finish that book -- I confess I keep getting distracted by other texts lately." "You mean you've been distracted by that new human world play that's been making the rounds," Edith teases, and Simeon laughs a little, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. "I'll certainly remind you to finish that book, though," she says easily, "as I'd quite like to hear your opinion on it. However, hold onto it as long as you like." "Much appreciated, Edith," Simeon says warmly. "Have a good evening, you two." And he turns away to keep going down the path, towing Lucifer willingly along, like it's just that easy to engage and then disengage from a conversation, like the boundaries of it are just that obvious. Lucifer just nods at the other angels as they pass; they nod back, perfectly cordial but not warm. He really doesn't know how Simeon does it. "You were saying, Lucifer?" Simeon asks, a moment later. This is why Lucifer can never quite manage to be upset at Simeon interrupting their conversation to briefly socialize with others. He always, always picks back up where they left off, never losing the thread of their conversation. Sometimes the pause is even helpful, giving Lucifer time to think something over. "You and I are very different angels," Lucifer says, finally. "You're radiant and charming and charismatic. You know everyone --" "Not everyone," Simeon protests. "-- and everyone is always so pleased to speak with you." Lucifer shakes his head again. "We're very different, and yet they call us Simeon-and-Lucifer as though we're one and the same." "Hmm." Simeon looks at him thoughtfully. "You're right, we are quite different, though not in the ways that you imply," he says. "For you are also radiant, and charming, and you are thoughtful and industrious." "I see you don't think I'm charismatic," Lucifer notes dryly. "I wouldn't lie to you like that, Lucifer," Simeon says, holding a straight face for all of a second and a half before he laughs at his own joke, and Lucifer chuckles too in spite of himself. "In all seriousness, though," Simeon says, still smiling merrily, "everyone I know would love to converse with you as well. They just find you intimidating." Lucifer frowns. "I'm not intimidating." Simeon points his finger right in Lucifer's face. Lucifer blinks and tries to lean back out of range, but Simeon follows him with that accusatory finger until he can poke Lucifer right in the forehead. "Hey!" "That," Simeon says. "That frown right there, that's exactly why angels think you're intimidating." Lucifer starts to frown again, feels it happening, tries to stop it and smooth out his brow again, but it doesn't really work. Simeon laughs at him. "Oh, heavens, I wish you could see how ridiculous you look right now," he says, chortling. Lucifer gives up and scowls at him, which instantly feels more natural. Simeon smiles back, and Lucifer suddenly realizes that it's always been this way: him frowning, in frustration or consternation or just thoughtfulness, and Simeon smiling back.

"Okay, listen to me now, Lucy," Simeon says. "Simeon," Lucifer hisses, looking around the walled garden. Fortunately, there's no one around to overhear that ridiculous nickname. "Listen," Simeon insists, putting his hand on Lucifer's shoulder. "You and I are very different, Lucy, and that's why I love you. You're quiet and focused and proud, and I'm --" "A social butterfly, and easily distracted, and also proud," Lucifer puts in, to make Simeon roll his eyes. "-- so we complement each other," Simeon finishes. "Simeon-and-Lucifer. It's not that they think we're one and the same. No. We're two halves of a pair. Complementary." "Complementary," Lucifer repeats, thoughtfully. He keeps thinking about it, even after they walk on. Complementary, half of a whole, with Simeon being the matching other part. It sounds right. "Hey," he says, when they arrive at the bridge with the best evening view over the lake. Simeon turns and leans back against the railing while Lucifer rests his forearms on it beside him. "What is it?" Simeon asks, concern creasing his brow a little. It's Lucifer's turn to smile back at him. "I love you too, Sim." And the radiance of Simeon's beaming smile nearly blinds him.

---

It goes like this: “Can we be friends again?” Simeon asks bluntly, one day after a lecture on Rowa-period Devildom law. Lucifer has always appreciated directness; becoming a demon clearly hasn’t changed that. Lucifer pauses in the middle of holding the door for him. They’re the last two people in the classroom. “I -- yes,” Lucifer replies, blinking in surprise, then frowning. And that -- finally, that’s a look that Simeon knows how to read. “Did you think I wouldn’t want to?” Simeon asks, eyebrows going up. Lucifer pushes the door closed. He gives Simeon a long look. “Yes,” he says frankly. “We didn’t exactly part on good terms, if you recall.” Simeon laughs nervously, putting a hand to the side of his neck. In truth, he had almost forgotten, in a way. In the intervening eons, he had made a habit of boxing up the memory of that final altercation and hiding it away, to dwell on the fond memories instead. To wield them like shining shields against the intrusive thoughts that always tried to insist it’s your fault and you should have chosen differently and you’ve lost him forever. “I -- I recall,” he says weakly. Lucifer just keeps looking at him. So Simeon takes a deep breath, calls up his courage, and starts talking. He tells Lucifer everything, every thought of regret or sorrow or longing that he’s had since that last conversation in the Celestial Realm. He tells Lucifer everything he’s wanted to say to him in all those empty eons of being apart, everything he’s wanted to say to him in all these aching days of being near. He says I’m sorry (I don’t regret the part I played, but I’m sorry anyway). He says I missed you (I love you, I missed you). And then he says nothing when Lucifer raises a hand to stop him, his other hand over his mouth and his cheeks tingeing pink and his eyes bright and wet with something that could be joy or sorrow or both. And then Lucifer embraces him, and he says nothing at all because his breath is caught in his throat and his temple is pressed against Lucifer’s jaw and his nose is touching the high collar of Lucifer’s uniform shirt, and Lucifer is saying, “I missed you, too.”

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