#but like !!!! fuck’s sake. 6000+ years knowing someone

[mars-ipan]

i know i’ve said it before but we should really and truly be praising crowley’s overall self control. i would not have been so strong

[dalliancekay]

We've been talking for millions of years

Aziraphale was clearly taken by Angel!Crowley from the moment he met him. I think the 6000 years could be read as when the whole human breeding thing starts. Even God says there's been many nice days in the Garden. How many? The count didn't start until the day they left Eden I think. When we meet Aziraphale and Angel!Crowley in Before the Beginning, Earth was still an idea in the works. And the War didn't happen. Or Crowley surely would have been more cautious. So I hope they have met and talked and Crowley grumbled about how unfair it all was.

And Aziraphale tried to placate him that it will all work out somehow, there’s a Plan. And they kept meeting, Crowley showing Aziraphale the prettiest corners of the universe, Aziraphale telling Crowley exciting developments re: Earth.

I wouldn’t try to guess at how far their relationship has gone… maybe relationships of the kind we know now weren’t invented yet and still, these two loved each other without knowing anything about it. After all, no other angels seem to have ANY relationships of any kind. Apart from higher or lower levels of condescension towards each other.

Then the Great War came and tore them apart. After knowing each other for millions of years and their close more-than-friendship, their world falls apart. After all, Crowley tried to do the right thing. And Aziraphale did too but it wasn’t to be. Yet. But. Their story wasn’t finished yet.

Aziraphale is relieved when he’s sent down to Earth to guard the brand new humans from the demons he has heard that the damned angels have been turned into. He’s a bit fearful about the whole thing but glad to be away and keen, if a bit anxious to see the project he’s discussed/worked on for so long.

Crowley hates Hell. He hates it cos it’s not what he wanted or what he thought he was joining. He has been lied to. He’s not regretting his decision to turn his back on Heaven, no. He still thinks they’ve made too many crappy decisions. But he despises what the Rebellion became.

When Beelzebub asks for a volunteer to go up to the new planet and tempt the fresh innocent human couple into joining them, he volunteers, even if only to escape the claustrophobic walls and the mess nobody ever clears up.

Tempting comes easy to him. He imagines talking to his lost friend. ‘But why wouldn’t you try fruit from this one tree. What’s the problem with knowing things anyway? Wouldn’t you want to decide by yourself Eve? And Eve does make a decision.

Crowley’s worried now. Not for himself. He’s without hope but did he hurt humans by doing this. He didn’t mean to. He doesn’t really want them to go to Hell. Or Heaven for that matter. He only thinks they should be free to make their own choices. If only he had someone to talk to.

He spotted a distant angel earlier. Reminded him of, of… the light hair...anyway. They held a flaming sword but surely he can dodge that if needs be. He could just try for a simple chat. He has no idea how demons are talked about in Heaven. But he guesses the angel might just try to smite him. Worth the risk. Everything feels so raw and strange here. Maybe stealing a bit of familiarity will help him settle his nerves.

He decides to slither over and ask how the angel feels about what’s been done. Will they be furious. Hurt? Guilty? Oh. It’s him. It’s too late now. Always too late. It’s him. Aziraphale. Aziraphale. It is HIS angel. What is he going to do. FUCK! Well. No better way to find out. He could just tease him like the old times. What's the worst that can happen.

Shitfuck but he smells good. These new senses will take a while to get used to: “Well that went down like a lead balloon.” A lead balloon? Whatthefuck even is that. Oh for Someone's sake.

Aziraphale’s standing on top of the Garden wall, squeezing his fingers with worry - what exactly has happened. What has possessed him to give away his sword. Did he disappoint God? Heaven? It doesn’t FEEL wrong to help them. If only he had someone to talk to.

Another angel? What. A snake? Oh. Oh. They are changing. Could it be? His heart will surely explode into million pieces…!!!! A lead balloon?!? “Sorry what was that?” Does he remember me? I think he does. I think he does. He’s here. As lovely as always.

I’ll keep him safe. Safe. I will keep him safe this time.

[lydiablackblade]

It's kinda interesting how we filter Good Omens through ourselves.

Someone has just ruined a whole Human AU-verse for me which I quite enjoyed so far. But in the last work, they introduced ethical non-monogamy, one night stand(?) sex, out of the blue. I was so excited by the notification of a new work, I jumped to AO3, then I read the tags and ugly cried for half an hour. And I'm saying it not because of the dramatic effect, but because I actually cried like a child. I won't be able to reread the older chapters, knowing where they headed.

It was gut wrenching even to think of it. And I again mean it physically. I produce physical symptoms of sickness. So far it happened only when canon compliant boys had previous affairs, I'm 100 % in favor of 6000 years old (turbo) virgins headcanons. It doesn't mean I can't get over it if the fic is well written and intriguing, but it rarely happens. In human AUs or when there weren't millennia old pining, I was okay with the idea.

But I have never, ever thought that, human or human shaped beings, once they are together, they think of, desire, lust, want someone else. A stranger, a 3rd party. To me, being in love and meanwhile being attracted to someone else physically is just... No. Fucking no. My ace-ish, demi-ish ass is totally freaked out.

Given the strength of love Crowley and Aziraphale have, it never occurred to me that anyone, even one person, can put them into a non monogram relationship (I'm sorry polys). This feels like it's not coming from the characters but was written just for the sake of porn. Even if it is consensual, even if it is negotiated. It's such a huge NO WAY to me. And it turned out so many cherished that fic, even someone drew an -otherwise beautiful- art for it. Which I saw posted today and cried again.

And it makes me feel like an alien. Again.

Disclaimer: no intention to belittle, shame, offend (etc, etc) anyone's preference, kink, world view, this fandom is big enough, this world outside is big enough, have a place for everyone, and writers of course can write whatever they want, artists whatever they art.

But I also have the right to talk about on my own blog what makes me uncomfortable. Don't think I hurt anyone with it.

[mrpenguinpants]

Hey so that Dainsleif quest huh 👀

[Spoilers for those who haven't played it yet ofc]

.

.

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These are just some disorganized initial thoughts for your consideration:

So I'm pretty sure his "travel companion" that he keeps mentioning is our twin

Does that mean our twin has gone to the exact same places as we've been going?? Dainsleif seemed to be familiar with all the locations we visited in Mondstadt but I suppose that could've been from an even earlier journey

And the possibility that the Abyss is trying to mislead us bc we hadn't encountered any abyss mages since Dvalin 🤔🤔🤔 what do they want??? We know (kinda) that our twin is watching our progress and that they're the prince/princess of the Abyss so like are they trying to keep us from getting in the way of their plans so as not to accidentally hurt us? Though something tells me we're gonna get tangled up in it one way or the other lmao

Dainsleif said that his goal is to oppose the Abyss so perhaps he's got his own secret plans to try to stop our twin (as is also supported by what he said at the end of the mortal travails video about proving ourselves worthy of stopping "her"/Lumine probably)

Also turns out I'd been pronouncing his name wrong the whole time lmao I had been saying dains-leaf instead of dains-lif

No Vision as confirmed by his full character model

Also his eyepatch is more of a phantom of the opera mask lmao

Important observation he looks like post timeskip Dimitri from a distance when I had to meet him in Dvalin's Lair I legit thought he was Dimitri for a sec XD

Anyway those were my thoughts about the new quest lmao my internet was cutting out the whole time while I was trying to play like dsfkdksjf pls I just wanted to talk to blond eyepatch man

Important part of this post: 

I took a lot of pictures of Dainsleif if you want to use them as references (or appreciation).  The pictures are under the read more tag so if you don’t want spoilers, don’t read anything and skip to the read more. 

Also, he calls you and your sibling “idiots” through money.

He asks for 500 mora and (this is probably just a coincidence but considering Zhongli tips Xiangling 888 mora I’m sus). The number 250  [二百五] or ( èr bǎi wǔ) means “idiot”. 

If someone calls you 250, they can say (nǐ shì wǔ bǎi) or “You are [250]”. But if you give someone 500, this can be taken as saying two people are stupid (250 + 250 = 500). I mean, that’s probably not how it works but I think it’s funny to imagine Dainsleif being too polite to call us stupid. 

---

I know right? When I saw the leak for it and seeing it confirmed in patch notes, I was so confused. Wha-Why are you here so early? I wasn’t expecting you for another 5 years at least. I’m happy to see you and your beautiful model in game but at the same time I was so worried that we were going to get crumbs of interactions. Same thing with Guizhong in Zhongli’s story quest. Genshin please...finish your stories (that’s fucking hilarious coming from me considering I still have a part 2 to Childe that I need to write), but I’m honestly just happy that he’s in the game. But yes 👀👀 more lore food. 

You know, I was talking about the archons a bit with @maagdalen and, I may have been misunderstanding or reading the wrong message, but they brought up the idea that what if the archons’ personality is based on their regions country's? So for example, Venti’s personality adopts the German mentality because Mondstadt was modelled after Germany? Obviously, I have no idea if that’s true because I’m not from or am German but in the context of Liyue and Zhongli. I can definitely see some sort of connection. 

But some food for thought:

“But cyro archon is very viable since she's suppose to be a kind hearted person that needed to be cold for the sake of freedom. or peace. something like that.”

 “Sorry, but this is stupidly Russian style. No matter what you say, people will always be dissatisfied. Of course it's not that bad...but it's something to think about.“ 

But yess, @svnflowery​ said the same thing. That Dainsleif was Lumine’s “guide” the same way Paimon is our guide. I actually think that’s an interesting idea. That Lumine has gone to the exact same places as we’ve been through. It actually makes me wonder (since we can play as both her and Aether), that Lumine went through the same story line as Aether. She met Venti, Zhongli, everything that’s happening right now. She’s already been through, then when she reached the Khaenri’ah chapter she failed. So she decided to spin the clock back and change destiny. I mean, this is me spit balling and I don’t think this happened but it’s something to think about. 

You know funny enough, hasn’t Venti been asleep for a while? Either way, he doesn’t really strike me as the type that truly wants to be an Archon. He says in his voicelines as well that “that’s a problem for Mondstadt to deal with”. So it would be easier for the Abyss Order to mess some things up. While Zhongli has been alive for 6000 years and I highly doubt Abyss Order can do anything to him haha. If we’re going on that “Lumine has already been through this journey” she could be trying to re-make or lead us on the same path. 

I wouldn’t be surprised if Dainsleif was our guide, then when Lumine spun the clock back and aligned herself with the abyss, that’s when they split. That could be a reason why he’s trying to oppose the abyss order but really I think it’s because the Abyss Order’s goal is to basically set the world on fire (or something like that). I always pronounce character names wrong and I don’t understand why people make such a big deal out of it. You know who I’m talking about, my pronunciation isn’t completely shit to the point you don’t know. So why do you keep yelling at me??

Also. The most important part of his quest was it was “Aether’s version” of the “We will be reunited” trailer. 

It even showed the crushed dandelion flower and the ruin guard footprints. IT’S OUR SISTER. 

I knoww, I was searching for his vision and got weird pics but that’s alright, I LOWKEY HATE THE OPERA MASK SO MUCH. GIVE ME ACTUAL MASK. THERE GOES THE “SEPERATE COLOURED EYE” ART OF KHAENRIAH PEOPLE. Yo, knock off Dimitri let’s go. 

I love Dainslief’s english voice but I hate Xiao’s en voice. What a dilemma. I usually play in chinese but wow does Dainslief sound old. Jp is slightly better but I hear grandpa vibes. Korean isn’t bad and I actually don’t mind korean xiao so korean we shall go. It’s weird. I like Dainsleif english voices, Xiao chinese voice, paimon korean voice haha. Jp is usually just good all around but I have preferences. But tyty for telling me your thoughts! I’d love to hear about the Xiao quest that just dropped. Beautiful boy 

sweats 

yeah about that...xiao scammed me. I wonder if his speech changes based on what you say. i kind of doubt it though. 

I’m looking at his outfit from every angle while Xiao stays pretty in the back. 

I like that you can see his magic arm there. 

While on this side you can’t. 

I swear this is for research. IM TRYING TO SEE IF HE HAS A VISION. IM INNOCENT!!

he also has some sort of weird...blue thingy on his foot?

Im using Xiao as a personfication of me BUT TELL ME YOUR SECRETS 

[laketaj24]

The Rules IV: Triggered

Author’s Note: Thank you all soo much for your input!!! It helped me out more than you know! This was fun as hell to write and I hope you’re down for a ride! It’s about to go down. There are two songs that really hit the nail on the head for this part, they are linked below! Happy Reading my people!

Pairing: CEO!Henry Cavill X Reader

Warning: Angst. SMUT. DRAMA.

Want to catch up! Click HERE

Song Inspirations: Jhene Aiko: Triggered (First Part) Jhene Aiko: P*SSY Fairy

If your heart slowed anymore, you’d collapse. But it wasn’t just the lethargic beat of your heart that slowed down. The kiss. The fucking kiss was being replayed in your head over and over, the way she cupped him, the way his lips touched hers and he deepened it. You feel the bile rise at the helm of your throat and you step back.

“Excuse me.” You whispered to a bewildered Alex, “I need to leave.”

He noticed. You could tell by the way he looked back to Henry and then you. His tall frame went from relaxed to apathetic. “Is it him?” He gave a wave in Henry’s direction and then stepped closer to you. “Y/N?”

“I can’t talk about this right now.” You attempted to push your way through the crowd and caught an opening into the gala hall. Alex was on your feet, his long strides made it easy for him to catch you. “Hey, I can’t talk about it right now.”

Your mind raced, he took a month away from you, was it because the entire time he had her? Were you some fucking mistress, side-chick, side bitch… Homewrecker? Inwardly you taunted yourself with the unceasing line of insults to yourself. Fuck! Fuck.

“Look.” Alex cleared his throat and stepped closer to you. His presence kept you from bolting into the nearest room and destroying everything in it. You were grateful for that, maybe. “He is not worth you not enjoying this night. Do you know how beautiful you are right now? Every eye in the building was with you when we arrived. Make him mad, but don’t let him win. He did nothing to deserve a win apparently.”

The pep talk worked and more and more you were starting to understand why Alex was a friend you didn't want to lose regardless of what happened. The first dance is casual, you fight tears watching the woman touch his hand, laid her hand on his chest and laugh like he was a comedian. He wasn't that damn funny. You stay for an hour, it was required to stay an hour, you have done only what was expected of you and nothing more. Alex took you home, the car ride is silent besides the occasional murmur of a curse word under your breath.

Home is what you craved more than anything, once the door was closed and Alex's driver left you released a scream that scared you, followed by a sob as you felt your heart literally break. What a fucking feeling? Grief for someone who didn't deserve it. You didn't drink to solve your problems, so alcohol was a no. Sleep was the obvious answer.  The dress felt like it burned your skin, you were certain it didn't, but the fact that it came from him made it poison. He was poison, that you willingly chugged down like a vintage wine and now the repercussions had finally made their grand entrance. And fuck them.

Why were you looking them up, they were a known couple, known to everyone but you? You typed in his name and nothing but her appeared Billionaire Henry Cavill and Olivia Tate grace the Emmy's with their presence. Will this playboy finally settle down? Olivia Tate has HC's heart around her finger. You were sick again. You throw the phone on the couch and screenshot the picture of him kissing her. Is this the future Mrs. Cavill?

You changed clothes, slipping the crop top and leggings on. You knew it wasn't the end of the night. And you were right, sleep does not come. He sends you seven messages, each of which you stared at trying to formulate a response, but they didn't merit one, until the last one.

Henry: I've been looking for you for an hour. Where are you?

Henry: You left without a word? Are you mad or something?

Henry: A response would be nice.

Henry: Y/N

Henry: Y/N. I'll find you later.

Henry: Be there in ten.

Y/N: Drive safe. Are you bringing the wife with you?

You hit send of the picture you'd saved.

Henry: Wow.

The wait for him to arrive only infuriates you more, your mother had always said your temper was like a wildfire, once it sparked it would consume everything to the ground. You knew she was right; Henry even knew your temper needed to be managed, but no one fucking managed you. This included Henry. He didn't knock. He never did really, he entered with his perfectly tailored suit and an eye roll. And the lamp crashed behind him. He ducks, but his face is shocked.

"What the fuck was that?" he hissed.

"My fucking two-hundred-dollar lamp." You picked up the shoes and hurled them across the room next and he ducked as if he knew they were coming and charged towards you. You moved from his grasp. "You have been with her for a year!" It roared out of you and then the tears followed. "Why did you even come over here? Did you think I would be okay with it? Do you think I want to be your whore? Come when you say, fuck when you say and then you go home to her. Don't touch me!!"

"You're not going to let me explain, are you?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Explain Henry, tell me what lie did you conjure up, while headed here. She's just a friend. I wasn't with her." you shake your head and Henry folds his arms across his chest. "Is she the reason you wouldn't let me kiss you?"

"Are you finishing acting like-."

"Say it!" You cut him off and step closer to him. You wanted to hit something, but his face was too pretty for that shit, and despite your anger, your mother raised you better than that, "Like what Henry? Get out."

"Y/N."

"I said get the fuck out!"

His jaw clenched and he pushed his hands through his thick mane of brown curls, ending the polished look he had earlier. "I'll call you later."

"Oh, no the fuck you won't." You opened the door to Alex standing there with his eyes on Henry. Why was he back? "He was just leaving." You explained to Alex. "Bye."

Alex stepped aside and held up the brown bag, you could smell the Chinese and noticed the wine bottle. "We didn't get to eat." He explained. The smug grin on his face sealed the night, he was a good guy.

You smiled and watched Henry stare at him before looking back at you. He shook his head, "Goodnight."

"Fuck you." You whispered.

In the past hearing, people say they were numb sounded foolish, of course, they felt. A human cannot simply shut it all off, but you were wrong. So wrong, it was easier to go numb than to feel. It started with work, your time invested in the company allotted you vacation three fucking weeks, paid and free.

The first week you spent with Alex, not fucking his brains out like a part of you wanted to but being a friend. He allowed you to talk, you told him everything and he listened with no judgment and that made it easier. Tia was around too, she spent the night with you when she could, in between hair appointments and makeup slots. Her career was changing fast, you were happy for her even if you barely showed it at times.

The second week you shut them both out. You told them you were out of town, but you were in your apartment with food and tear-soaked pillows. His phone calls had stopped, but you feared it was only because you changed the number. Work could contact you via email if they needed to, but no one even called you during the first two weeks. The marketing strategy you left would do well, you knew it. And besides your certainty in your program, you didn’t care what Cavill Industries did at the moment.

The third week, everything went numb, there were no more tears to cry. Every inkling of him that existed was gone, including the $6000 dollar dress. You burned it and at that final act, the night was gone from your mind. He’d broken the rules. You’d both set them and when he kissed her, he disqualified himself.

The first day back to work your anxiety had you in its grip. Every phone call and opening of your door you dreaded. But he didn’t come. He wasn’t even in the building, according to your boss and that eased everything. You could work with him not being anywhere near you, and that made you apply to the other firms that had once been interested in you. You got two calls immediately. Matheus Corporate wanted to hire you without an interview and after the offer they sent, you were taking it. You typed out your resignation letter and turned it into HR. It was the right choice.

It was a month before you saw him again, and the Cavill you saw briefly in the lobby looked nothing like the one you had grown accustomed to. His hair was wild, and he had a beard, an actual beard. His slate-blue eyes were tired as were his movements. Just seeing him triggered you, the horrid memories of that night flooded your head and the pain resurfaced. Being numb would not be possible around him. You knew it. You hid in the stairwell like an idiot and avoided him. Nine more days of work here and you would be clear.

“Look, the way I see it, we are friends now.” Alex kicked his feet up on your desk and looked to you for affirmation.

You gave it to him nodding your head and chugging down your third bottle of water. “Yes, we’re friends. So, when I call you up at midnight and you’re with your little girlfriend cuddling and things you still have to make an appearance.”

“Girlfriend?” He scoffed.

“You heard me.” You pointed at him.

“I’m hoping one day the little girlfriend, I am cuddling will be you.” He smiled. “There is no rush and no expectation for it. But I didn’t want you to leave this place, oblivious to the fact that I really like you.”

Your heart warmed and you smiled. “Nine days to go and your boldness is out the bag.”

He shrugged. “Did I get brownie points?”

“A whole cake.” You said. You were back to work an hour later, singing under your breath when the door opened.

“I told him to wait outside.” Your assistant said, trying to beat Henry in the office. She turned to you. “Ms. YLN, Mr. Cavill is here to see you.” But he was already in front of your desk.

“Get out.” He said to her.

“Whatever you have to say to me, she can hear.” For some reason, you knew if the door closed you would succumb to him, “Speak.”

“You are not leaving.” His voice was not composed, just wavering and near weak. “Y/N.”

“Gianna, you can go.” You exhaled. What the hell had happened to him? She left the room and the space that once seemed huge started to shrink. Henry walked towards you and you held your hand up when he reached your desk. “What?”

“You changed your number.”

“What did you expect?”

“For you to give me a chance to explain,” His eyes plead with yours for the opportunity. “Can I have that please?”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, I was never yours, right?”

“You’re still mine.” The slight possessiveness came back to his voice.  

It made you weak for a moment, your hitched breath took over the silence. “Hurry up, Henry.”

“She is my girlfriend.” He said.

The words punch at a wound you were certain was nearly healed. You hoped he was going to say that he left her, the pathetically infatuated part of you wanted him to say, she dumped him. But he just reaffirmed what you already knew. Olivia Tate was the official girlfriend of Henry Cavill. “Thanks?” You swallowed. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t want her to be, I want you.”

“You are making no sense and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to throw things at you here. I just wanted to leave all this in the past. Go be with her.”

“Y/N.” He said your name as if he was fighting for breath. “There are some things you do not understand about me. Things I would rather not talk about, but I don’t want her.”

“Then leave her! Damn it.” You bit out. “You are a grown man. You can make decisions on your own. If you didn’t want her then end it. End it now.”

“I can’t talk here.”

“Where else are you gonna talk?” You laughed. “My place? Hell no.”

“Mine.” He shook his head. “I’ll send a car for you after work. Don’t make them work Y/N. Just come.” He looked at you. “Please.”

“Fine.”

 You didn’t fight his orders on meeting him, curiosity reared its ugly head and you were gone. His home was at the edge of town, the driveway curved up a hill and lead to the glass estate. It was incredible. Had you been here on better circumstances, you would have enjoyed the view. You stepped out and the door opened. Henry had shed the suit for a black shirt and black sweats that hung at his waist somehow accenting his frame. Fuck. Were you even going to be strong enough to say no to this god? One last fuck? Just to say goodbye fuck, it wouldn’t be frowned upon.

You argued with yourself and walked into the home, the décor was much like his office dark brown woods with a modern sense. You stood in the foyer and looked at him. The closer to the door you were, the more likely you were to say no to him without hesitation.

“I can’t shut you out of my mind.” He confessed. He had shaved, but his hair was still tucked behind his ears, longer than normal.

“Just tell me.”

“I met Olivia in college.” He sighed. “We used to date off and on, but it was never more than sex. Never.”

“That’s all it is with us.” You interrupted. “Hence the reason I don’t need this talk.”

“Then why’d you come?” Henry stared. “I have been infatuated with you for months and when I finally got the opportunity to be with you, I jumped at it.”

“Don’t feed me bullshit.” You held your hand up.

“Who do you think hired you?”

“Why can’t you just leave her?” You asked.

“She knows things about me that can ruin me.” he stopped talking. “Liv is talented at getting the things she wants. If I leave her, she’ll spill it.”

“Oh, get the fuck out of here!” You laugh. “You expect me to believe this Lifetime movie shit? You got a girlfriend and you want me too. Admit it.”

“I don’t want her.” He shook his head. “I want you.”

“You can say it until you’re blue in the face. If you don’t show me, how in the fuck am I supposed to believe that this… isn’t just a way for you to get what you want.”

Henry sunk to his knees. “I’ll beg you.”

“Dogs beg.” You spat.

“Anything.” He rasped.

“Do you know how bad I hurt? I didn’t work for weeks. I didn’t care for weeks. We’ve been together a month. Do you think my behavior was normal? Do you think yours is normal? No. We are bad for one another and I just…”

How did he get up so fast? You moved back and he was on you, his steps heavy and determined. He caged you against the wall and then you realized, his face was wet with tears.

“You have to believe me.” He whispered and the fear clawed through him. “Please.”

There was an urge pushing you to leave this place, nothing good can come from him. But his face was pained, you’d never seen this part of him. You cupped his face affectionately and your lips graze his cheek. It feels as if he shutters and then you just do it. You hesitantly kiss him. Your lips touch his and the energy that passes through you ignites a groan.

“Please.” The plea is accompanied by him responding to the kiss, tenderly. He leaned into you, his body blanketing to you and taking whatever breath you thought you had left. But you were sure that he took your breath away without a kiss. His brow furrowed as he deepened it pushing your head against the door. He wrapped his arms around you, swaddling you in his muscles while somehow it wasn’t the muscles that you felt. For the first time, he was being himself with you. He allowed you to feel what you didn’t even know was there.

He pulled back from you and he moved as if he was dizzy. The breath he had stolen from you had made it's way back to you and you inhaled. There was more than a desire that flickered between the two of you.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

His eyes flashed with a little hope. “Same.” Henry didn’t wait for permission he just scooped you up from the floor and kissed you again, this time it hurt. The hurt is so fucking good.

“I want,” the words were caught in your throat. Was this right or were you spiraling? “I want you, here. Right here.” He lowered you both down on the steps so that you were straddling him, you didn’t care for his comfort. You wanted him to feel you. “You remember the rules?” You whispered. Your tongue licks his lips and then dives in and he’s taken back, gripping your ass that is winding on his dick. You can feel him through the sweats. “Hmm…”

“I could never forget.”

“Don’t cum unless I say.” You smiled before kissing him again. You bucked your hips on and his eyes widened the lust pushing through. “You hear me, sir?” Your voice was low and filled with lust. “I want to fuck you right here.” He grew harder, flinching against you. “I want you to moan my name when you cum…”

Henry’s hands were in your hair, pulling you back so he could see your eyes. “I’ll do whatever the fuck you want me to, just fuck me.” He begged.

“Did you miss me?”

“Always.” He groaned lowering his head to your breast. He sprung the from the blouse and ripped it in two. “Always.”

You wanted to believe him, but the lingering hurt from the past month. “If you lie to me again,” You unsheathed him from his sweats and stroked your hand down the length of his cock. You swiped the precum that oozed from the tip down and pumped again. “Missing me is all you’ll know how to do, sir.”

“Fuck,” He jumped in your hand and sucked air in through his teeth.

“Understand?”

“I-,” He moaned when you increased your speed. “Oh fuck.”

“Yeah,” You were so turned on by the way you were making him feel. You now understood why he wanted to be in control of everything in the bed. It was sexy as fuck to watch what you could do to someone. You could watch them unravel, put them back together and do it again.

Henry pushed the pen skirt up and easily ripped the panties. He tossed them behind you and his fingers were in you. Prodding and working, you fucking missed him, even though you shouldn’t have. “Y/N.” He moaned. “I’m almost there.” He panted.

You stopped stroking him and began to ride his fingers, lifting yourself from them and then back on until the next time Henry pushed his cock in. He was fighting every urge he had to allow you some control in this thing. He threw his head back when he was fully inside of you and stilled.

But you wanted to fuck him. You wanted to ride him slow and draw out every fucking moment you could with him. So, if you regretted being here in the morning, the walk of shame wouldn’t have too much shame. Your walls sealed around him and he gripped your hips trying to stop you from fucking him, but you continued. Your rhythm was wild, you used his shoulders like an anchor and smiled down at him. His face was red and misted with sweat. His curls were soaked, and he was mesmerized. Your tits bounced in front of him and your eyes were rolling. “Y/N.” He warned and you felt his cock grow harder and then he growled, shuddering in your breast as if he had waited forever to cum inside of you.

“Seems you broke a rule.” You laughed and continued to fuck him. He made sounds that only made you wetter for him and the man was part machine. He had to be as his cock grew back rigid and he was still shuttering from coming the time before.

Henry licked his fingers and slapped them onto your clit before he pulled you towards him. His fingers knew how to work your pussy. Moving in circles and then another slap before he started back again, and you were about to cum. You didn’t want to. You shook your head and Henry looked up at you, “I won’t last another time. I ca-,” Your pussy shook around his and your thighs locked down as the pleasure surged through your body. “Shit!” He yelled before slamming into you and spilling his cum again. “Y/N.” He rasped.

The floor wasn’t a bad place to lay for the time being. Henry was wrapped around your naked body and there was no need for cover. He kept you warm enough.

“Was she the reason you didn’t kiss me?”

He exhaled. “She,” he paused. “I never know when she will decide to come back into my life.” He admits. “And up until you, it was easier not kissing, that way when it ended… there were no emotions in it. It was just fucking. I can’t do that with you, okay? A single glance from you could make my heart stop, a kiss would have shattered me.” Henry admitted.

It was quiet for a while. Just deep breaths and kisses all down your body. “Let’s go to bed.” You said finally. “My boss would be mad as hell if I missed tomorrow.”

“I’m throwing you resignation away, and if you’re having problems out of Mike… I’ll fire his ass.” He stood up and reached his hand out to you. “Come on, the bed is the proper place to make sure you’re so tired work isn’t an option.”

  His bed was comfortable, the sheets were so soft you were tempted to ask where he got them. You slept peacefully entangled in the muscled mass that is Henry. But it was not a complaint to make, being without him for so long made you grateful you could listen to him breathe and feel his heart against your back.

“Thank God.” The unfamiliar voice came from the bottom of the bed.

Your eyes narrowed as the bright sun made its way through the windows. The blonde hair was the first take away, it was Olivia. You scrambled from under Henry’s body. “Henry!” If she wanted a fight, you were ready to fight her, you’d just prefer to not be naked while doing it.

Henry groaned and once he caught sight of her he jolted up from the bed. “Olivia. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Don’t be rude. I was just saying thank God.” Olivia leaned over his legs and looked at you. “I hated watching him mope around here. He looked like a puppy, sad because his bitch went away.”

“Bitch? I beg your pardon, Henry if you don’t get this woman.” Henry gave an admonished look to Olivia and gripped your hand. It didn’t comfort you. It just pissed you off. You snatched your hand away from him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” One more foul word from her and you’d fight naked.

“Excuse my manners, darling. I’m Olivia and I am so glad you are here. It seems we have some rules to introduce.” She pushed up from the bed and left the room. “Chop, chop Henry, dear. Bring your bitch, I have a plane to catch.”

[nicnacsnonsense]

Okay so this is going to be part Good Omens meta, part head canon, all ramble, but I promise I have a point. Well, technically it’s a question, but I am going somewhere with this; there’s just going to be a lot of pit stops and detours along the way.

We’re starting with Crowley. I know Aziraphale’s the soft one, but Crowley’s pretty soft for a demon. He’s not a total cuddly marshmallow like I see him portrayed as sometimes – he does seem to genuinely enjoy the “annoying people” parts of his job. Though even then he doesn’t seem to enjoy the annoyance for its own sake as much as the fact that it represents he has been successful; what he really seems to enjoy is the cleverness and artistry of it – the way he describes knocking out the telephone systems in the book is like a beautiful symphony of irritation. (Actually it’s weird to me that Hastur and Ligur’s method of chipping away at one soul at a time for years is called craftmanship while Crowley’s method is presented as a matter of efficiency. Like H&L are over here making artisanal meals with only the finest ingredients while Crowley is slinging out fast food burgers. Because to me Crowley’s method seems the one that takes more consideration and skill and is, taken for what it is, a thing of beauty, whereas H&L thing just seems like blunt-force trauma. I’m sorry you sat on this guy’s shoulder whispering in his ear for ten years in order to win his soul over? Unless he’s literally Job or Jesus Christ, I’m not impressed.) Crowley isn’t a total marshmallow, but he is soft. He’s not cruel or sadistic and he doesn’t like seeing people get genuinely hurt or killed. Now when other demons are sadistic, he doesn’t like it, but he seems to largely accept it as the way things are. When Heaven does terrible things, he seems kind of disgusted but not terribly surprised. But when it’s the humans or God doing terrible things, that’s what hits him hard. For slightly different reasons in each case, but ultimately it boils down to “I thought you were better than this,” and he cannot emotionally handle it when they prove they aren’t.

Moving on to Aziraphale (I promise we’ll come back to our soft demon boi in a minute). There’s a lot of different takes out there about how book Aziraphale differs from show Aziraphale, but the most compelling one I’ve ever seen argues that it’s not so much that Aziraphale is inherently different as it is Heaven is different in the two versions, which in turn impacts how Aziraphale behaves. In the book Heaven shows up on three occasions: when Aziraphale calls Heaven and speaks with the Metatron, when Aziraphale accidentally gets himself beamed up to Heaven (which could be considered a continuation of the same event), and at the airbase to try to restart the Apocalypse. In all of these cases either Aziraphale reached out to Heaven first or his presence was incidental to Heaven showing up. The general implication is that no one is checking in on him really; he has his own personal loyalty and sense of duty to Heaven urging him to do what they expect of him, but unless he’s really blatant about it, no one’s going to know if he breaks the rules here and there. Book Aziraphale’s life is basically one long “who you are in the dark” test, with the plot twist at the end where he flicks on the lights switch and flips everyone off while he does the thing he wasn’t supposed to because it turns out that was the right thing to do all along.

By contrast in the show Heaven is showing up all the time. Aziraphale is dragged up there multiple times for reports, archangels are constantly popping down to Earth to talk with him, and they actually proactively uncover Aziraphale’s involvement with Crowley. Granted, we can assume this is a higher than normal rate of involvement because of the fast-approaching Apocalypse, but the point remains that show Aziraphale is dealing with a lot more oversight. If he breaks the rules, there is a good chance he will be caught, and even if he just does something perfectly allowed but considered to be unbefitting an angel, he will be met with scorn and disapproval. That’s why show Aziraphale is more anxious, less likely to break any rules, and more cautious if he does so.

An extension of this difference in how Heaven behaves that I haven’t seen mentioned before, is it impacts how Aziraphale perceives Hell to be. Aziraphale doesn’t have any real firsthand experience of Hell, so he has to make inferences as far as what they’re like to work for. His main two sources of information are going to be what Heaven tells him – likely to be sparse and often inaccurate – and what Crowley tells him – honestly also likely to be sparse and often inaccurate. Obviously, Crowley knows what working for Hell is like, and there are probably some areas that he’s willing to be fairly open and straight-forward about. But when it comes to things like punishments for failure or disobedience, Crowley’s going to spend most of the time evading and downplaying with occasional bits of shocking honesty to make a point and blatant overexaggerations for dramatic effect. With limited information to go on, Aziraphale is forced to use what Heaven’s like and extrapolate from there. And since the book and show versions have two such different starting points, even if book Aziraphale concludes Hell is more overbearing than book Heaven and show Aziraphale concludes Hell is less thorough on following up than show Heaven, they are still going to come to very different conclusions as to how present and aware of what Crowley is up to Hell is. Which is relevant because not only is show Aziraphale dealing with a Heaven that is more like to catch misbehavior, he also perceives Hell as being more aware and therefore Crowley more likely to be caught and punished than book Aziraphale does.

Circling back to Crowley and his emotional upset at the cruelties of the world. The reason we had to talk about Aziraphale is because how he behaves has an impact on how Crowley copes. Now with the book we don’t have our “a love 6000 years in the making” backstory, and Crowley and Aziraphale are just generally less prominent than they are in the show, which means we have less to go on. The only real reference we get is Crowley’s reaction to the Spanish Inquisition. He gets a commendation for it without having done anything, goes to take a look, and then gets drunk for a week. This would imply that drinking is how he handles these sorts of things, but I don’t think we’re getting the full story here. I say think because this is the most head canon-y part of all this; I don’t have any real evidence other than if you assume this is true then it does explain some things I’ll get to in a minute. The book tells us that after looking in on the Inquisition Crowley “had come back and got drunk for a week.” But back to where? The implication is back to the cantinas in the nicer parts of Spain where he had been before going for his look, but I think he went back to Aziraphale (who may very well have already been in the cantinas with him anyway). Because honestly, an actual literal demon with actual literal snake eyes getting shitfaced drunk in the middle of the Spanish Inquisition, knowing full well he’ll melt into a puddle of goo and die if anyone even sprinkles any holy water on him, is pretty fucking stupid. But if that demon had an actual literal angel watching over him… Aziraphale is by nature a guardian/protector, and in the book he isn’t constantly concerned about their relationship being discovered. I think over time Crowley has learned that if he needs to fall apart or be vulnerable for a while, he can go to Aziraphale and rely on Aziraphale watching over him and supporting him until he’s ready to pull himself back together again.

Show Aziraphale does not have the same freedom as his book counterpart, and so cannot always reliably be there for Crowley in the same way. Which is not a dig on Aziraphale at all; he’s in a different situation where he has to be focused on keeping them safe from their superiors, so he simply does not have the additional emotional capacity sometimes, and that’s not his fault. Despite that, Crowley does still get the emotional support he needs from Aziraphale, it just has to function in a different way.

Our episode 3 cold open lets us watch this develop quite well. Our first two scenes (aside from the one with God asking about the sword, obviously) are Noah’s Ark and the crucifixion, where we see Crowley approach Aziraphale to essentially needle him about what’s going on. At this point Aziraphale isn’t so much support as someone he can redirect his anger toward – I assume this is how Book Omens started too, and we’ll get to the divergence in a second. Crowley is willing to drop the anger with Aziraphale much faster in the crucifixion scene, suggesting they have grown closer over the intervening 3000 years, and Crowley no longer finds as much emotional catharsis in being angry at Aziraphale, but he continues to approach Aziraphale that way out of habit.

Then we get to Rome, where Crowley has, according to the script book, come to town to tempt Caligula only to be shocked and upset when he learns how very much Caligula doesn’t need tempting. Crowley goes to a bar where Aziraphale happens to be – whether he knew Aziraphale was there or not before he arrived is irrelevant, but I am assuming he was aware of Aziraphale’s presence by the time he walked in the door. And here is where book and show diverge. Because Crowley has approached Aziraphale about things he’s been upset about in the past, but it’s one thing to needle an angel about things Heaven is responsible for; it’s quite another to walk up to your crush and just start complaining about some jerk who’s put you in a bad mood. Book Crowley, who has been dealing with a slightly more relaxed Aziraphale, says fuck it, goes and sits down across from him and says, “You would not believe the day I’ve had.” And from there we develop into the dynamic mentioned previously for Book Omens.

As mentioned, show Aziraphale is more anxious about their relationship, resulting in show Crowley falling on the other side of this choice and not approaching Aziraphale. This leaves it to Aziraphale to approach Crowley this time. Now as much as we may tease, Aziraphale’s not actually an idiot. He can tell Crowley is upset about something, and he’s picked up on the pattern where when Crowley is upset, he likes to be able rant a bit about Heaven. Obviously Aziraphale can sometimes find those conversations uncomfortable, but he’s feeling good today, so he’s happy to engage in some banter, especially if it’ll cheer his friend up. But Crowley’s the one who usually starts the conversation, so Aziraphale wracks his brain for something he can say about the nature of good and evil and ineffability and comes up with “Still a demon, then?” Shockingly, this doesn’t work. Still he keeps the conversation going and tries again with “Oh well, let me tempt you to... Oh, no, that's, that's your job, isn't it?” This still doesn’t work the way he’s expecting it to, but they do have a very nice meal and a good conversation that’s not really about Heaven and Hell at all, after which Crowley seems to be in much better spirits. Which leads him to the conclusion that it’s not the specifics that are important, just the fact of having the conversation and giving something Crowley to distract himself with.

Skipping ahead to the Globe, two quick things to point out. This is the first time we see Crowley do his little circle of Aziraphale, proving that by this point they established the dynamic where Crowley protects Aziraphale. The second is this is also the first time Aziraphale really intentionally uses his puppy dog eyes on Crowley, meaning their acts of service dynamic is established as well. Knowing these have been established helps inform the decisions Aziraphale makes in the Bastille scene.

Bastille scene. We can assume everything about this incident is something Aziraphale has staged, from actually getting arrested to his claims that he can’t rescue himself because he was reprimanded for too many frivolous miracles. I will say I don’t think that last one is a complete fabrication; I think either that it is something that has happened, but a good while ago such that he’s not worried about it anymore, or it did just happen, but Aziraphale actually had been using an unusually large amount of miracles recently – possibly as part of getting his bookshop set up – and has since dialed it back enough that he can use one or two at the Bastille, be it to free himself or just to change his clothing, without getting in trouble. However, while I do think it was staged, I don’t think the primary propose was to indulge in Aziraphale’s damsel in distress fantasies; that was just an unexpected bonus. Aziraphale’s main objective was helping Crowley.

Aziraphale knew about the French Revolution, knew Crowley was in the area, and knew Crowley was liable to find the whole situation upsetting. His response was to put on his prettiest outfit, and get himself locked up. He’s broadcasting to Crowley, don’t worry about the humans, just focus on me, don’t think about what they’re doing, just look at the silly angel all chained over here in need of rescue. Of course this isn’t completely divorced from the current situation, but in a way that’s actually better, because it takes that situation and lowers the stakes – Aziraphale isn’t going to die, worse case scenario he’ll just get discorporated – and puts Crowley back in control of the situation – he can’t stop the Revolution, even if he’s capable he’d be risking too much trouble with Hell if he tried, but he can save Aziraphale and fly under Hell’s radar while doing it. Basically, we’ve taken the “Crowley needs a distraction” conclusion Aziraphale came to back in Rome and refined it in the intervening 1750 years.

Even Aziraphale’s suspicions that Crowley is behind the whole revolution can be seen as an extension of the indirect comfort he’s offering. He knows that Crowley is going to have to tell Hell that he is behind all this stuff that’s upsetting him, so when Aziraphale accuses him of the very same, it gives Crowley an opportunity and a safe place to assert that, no, he is not responsible. And not just to say it, but to say it and have someone believe him, that it isn’t his fault and he would never do anything really terrible like this.

This gives us the final form of how Show Omens dynamic works. Instead of offering Crowley a safe haven, Aziraphale emotionally supports Crowley by offering him opportunities to be the savior.

What’s especially interesting about this is if we take these two different dynamics, where in Book Omens Aziraphale serves as Crowley’s safe haven and in Show Omens Crowley is Aziraphale’s savior, that actually explains four of the big differences between the book and show: Crowley’s reaction to being called nice, Crowley crossing the M25 with optimism vs imagination, the whole run away with me subplot, and Crowley’s post bookshop fire reaction.

A demon being called nice is a pretty risky thing for the demon in question. As Crowley points out during his and Aziraphale’s conversation in Eden, a demon can get in a lot of trouble for doing the right thing, and I can’t imagine being accused of being nice would work out much better for him. But book Crowley is used to being vulnerable like that around Aziraphale. He still snaps at Aziraphale when he says it, because Crowley is stressed out and right now is not the time for that, but it is ultimately an established part of their relationship dynamic so it really only annoys him. By contrast, in the show a lot of Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship is built around avoiding saying those things for their own safety. Given that, it’s no wonder his negative reaction would be more extreme.

There’s a whole long meta out there about how both Crowley’s are optimists, but in different ways (and if someone knows where to find it, please let me know so I can link it). Book Crowley is a more passive sort of optimism; he just generally believes that eventually things will work out for him. This is consistent with the way he handles it when he’s upset about things; he just goes to hang out with Aziraphale, lets himself be upset for a while, eventually it passes, and he’s good to go again. Whereas show Crowley has a more active sort of optimism, believing things can and will work out fine, as long as he steps up to make it happen. Again, this ties into how he deals with being upset; he goes out and does something about it. Granted, he’s not usually fixing the actual problem itself, but he’s being active related to what’s upsetting him, e.g. he can’t stop WWII, but he can go save Aziraphale from some Nazi spies. So when book Crowley drives through the M25 he has his optimism that things are going to work out as sort of a default mental state in his head, and it turns out The Secret really does work for demons so he gets through. Meanwhile show Crowley is actively applying himself to believing the car is fine, and that’s what pulls him through.

This passive/active difference also explains the addition of the “we could go off together” subplot in the show. Despite being more passive, book Crowley is not complacent; when they realize Warlock is not the antichrist, he and Aziraphale make efforts to find the real one. But when their initial search runs dry and they both agree the best thing to do is to have each of their “networks of human agents” look for the boy, Crowley is willing to step back and wait. Either one of their agents will find the kid or something else will turn up; somehow it’ll all work out. Show Crowley can’t do that. He can be optimistic that things will somehow work out, but not if he’s not doing something to fix it. Except there’s nothing else he can do to solve this problem, and when he can’t solve a problem his default is to instead save Aziraphale. The world is going to go up in flames, so Alpha Centauri it is then.

And now the one everyone loves to talk about: the bookshop fire. “Aha!” you said twenty minutes ago and then patiently waited for my rambling to get back to this point. “Aha! There is a flaw in your logic; after the bookshop fire it is book Crowley that copes by getting up and saving things, whereas show Crowley gets drunk and has an emotional breakdown.” But what you didn’t realize, gentle reader, is I already solved that problem weeks ago (this meta took a lot longer to write up than I was expecting). In fact, it’s not a problem at all, but further proof of these dynamics. Because after the bookshop fire, Aziraphale is gone. Aziraphale is gone, which means Crowley’s normal coping strategies don’t work. Book Crowley can’t have a breakdown about Aziraphale being gone precisely because Aziraphale is gone; he’s lost his safe space. So instead he just has to keep pushing forward and he’ll figure out how to deal with the rest of it later. Meanwhile show Crowley can’t save Aziraphale if Aziraphale is dead, and lacking that distraction, he has a breakdown.

Now that I’ve gone on for an obscenely long time about the different dynamics of book Crowley the protected vs. show Crowley the protector, I’m going to say that the specifics of how they are different aren’t ultimately that important. At least not in comparison to the way in which they’re the same. Despite how very different Heavens (and in theory a very different Hells could have a similar sort of impact) changed the details of their relationship dynamics, in both the book and the show, Crowley leans on Aziraphale for emotional support to deal with trauma. (As a side note, I don’t want to imply that this is a one-way relationship. Aziraphale also receives emotional support from Crowley; I’m just not touching on that now because I have to draw the line somewhere.) And that emotional support is a key factor in what makes Crowley different from other demons.

Obviously, we can see how being stuck in Hell would have made Crowley a worse person – though I use the word worse lightly here, as I think it’s very likely that rather than getting meaner for being stuck in Hell, Crowley would develop a learned helplessness. But even if Crowley was on Earth, being on Earth without that emotional support would have eventually had a huge negative impact on him and his attitudes and behavior. Because seeing humans being cruel to each other hurts him, and with no way to process that hurt, it would keep building up until eventually he would have to retreat into apathy to protect himself. But where the apathy of a Hell-residing Crowley would be underpinned by a sense of hopelessness because cruelty from demons is just what he expects, the apathy of an Earth-residing Crowley would have underneath it a lot of anger and betrayal. He did expect better of them, and they let him down time and time again until he stopped seeing the good in them. This betrayal-fueled apathy is the recipe for getting a Crowley that presents as a stereotypical demon, selfish and cruel.

And now finally we reach the point. All of this, all 3767 words of it (well, most of it) was all just context building up to this question: what the fuck did Heaven and Hell do to Crowley and Aziraphale in the 1992 script version?

[captain-emmajones]

Love, Emma (6/7)

(Art by the wonderful @carpedzem​ <3)

Loosely based on Love, Rosie (2014).

Killian and Emma are best friends and neighbors. They’ve always been – until he leaves for the Navy when his brother dies. When he comes back, nine months later, summer has begun and childhood is ending. Emma can tell something is changed in him, but she doesn’t know what. Until she does. He’s fallen in love with someone else.

And then, suddenly, they’re kissing on her nineteenth birthday. When she asks him to forget their night out, and never talk about it again, Killian thinks she means to tell him she regrets the kiss they exchanged. Except she has no memory of it.

Killian and Emma will dance around each other, until their heads spin and their legs hurt, and everything becomes blurry and it has to stop – for both of their sake.

A huge thank you to @profdanglaisstuff who beta’d this and gave me her precious thoughts <3

Friends to Lovers - Mutual Pining - Angst - Fluff - 6000 words - ao3

Part 1 - MIRRORBALL, Part 2 - AUGUST , Part 3 - HOAX, Part 4 - PEACE, Part 5 - THIS IS ME TRYING,  Part 7 - INVISIBLE STRING

Note: Everyone gives a lot of love to @carpedzem​ who drew this wonderful art for this fanfic :’)) 

Quick Summary: Last chapter ended on Neal finding Killian's love letter to Emma. This chapter opens on Emma, a week after Killian and Emma's kiss.

Reminder: Present time is Emma’s wedding to Neal, and that scene on the balcony during which Killian congratulates Emma on her wedding -- although he’s mostly dying inside. The words “I love you” slip out of his mouth, however he’s quick to add “as a friend” which leaves us with two very sad individuals who are both committing a grave mistake.

PART 6 - CARDIGAN

Six months before Emma’s wedding, a week after Emma and Killian’s kiss.  

Emma tosses and turns in her bed. She does not want to glance at the clock sitting on her bedside table. It’s probably joyfully, painfully displaying a horrendous number set between 1am and 5am and Emma wants nothing to do with it.

 There is not a spark of light in the room she shares with Neal, the heavy window shutters closed down.

 Emma wishes there was some kind of light. Perhaps then the weight over her chest would feel less terrifying, would feel less like the terrible, dark blue waves of a tormented sea she watches swallow her alive and spit her back onto the sand. 

 She’s battered between the waves, back and forth, back and forth, skin rocking against water, until she manages to reach the surface and breathes in deeply.

 But she’s only inhaling sea water and it fills her lungs and brings her to tears and it’s bitter, and it’s shit, and she cannot forget the taste of Killian’s lips.

 Another turn, a grunt of anger and despair.

 How dare he kiss her and let her leave him when he was in pain. How dare he.

 It was inevitable, whispers another part of her, but that part she ignores diligently. 

 Nothing is inevitable. Especially cheating on her future husband. With her friend whose feet were barely out of the surgery block.

 Well, she didn’t properly cheat if he was the one to kiss her…that would have been true, had she not furthered their kiss.

 Had she not backed him into his chair and sucked his breath away and marked his scalp with her fingers and tugged on his hair and filled his entire being with her, and her only. It was long overdue, after all.

 She turns, more aggressively this time, nearly knicks Neal out of the bed, her right foot whizzing past him. 

 She kissed him back because he was clearly seeking support and comfort and because a part of her will always love him, has always loved him and there’s nothing wrong with that.

 Horseshit.

 It is wrong. Utterly, completely, wrong.

 Nobody deserves to be cheated on. Nobody. Period.

 She’s just a piece of shit, now, is she?

 She glances on the side. Neal is still laying on his back, peacefully snoring, one arm flung across his face. She nearly hates him for it. She totally hates him for it.

 His chest raises up and down, comfortably, peacefully. What would Emma give for just an ounce of peace in her veins.

 Her breath is coming out in short puffs.

 It was inevitable, stammers once again her inner voice.

 “NO.”

 And the scream she thought only existed in her mind causes Neal to startle next to her, and this time she’s thankful it is complete darkness in their room, because he cannot see the flush on her cheeks.

 She can make out the shadow of his head lifting in the dark, and she imagines his features groggy with sleep. “You okay, Emma?”

 She turns back, grumbles. “Yeah, don’t worry. It’s just a nightmare.” And she definitely sounds like she’s blaming him for it.

 .

A long, tortuous week flies by. Emma’s under-eye circles darken with each passing day, and she is alarmly pale when Graham asks her in a weary tone: “You’re sure everything’s okay, Emma?”

 She nods and glances down at where Graham has been looking, and she realizes she’s been holding the files upside down.

 Well.

 “Shit. Yes. Sorry, Graham. I’ve been having a rough couple of days, is all.”

 And then Graham does this thing where he leans into her space, with his big brown eyes, and this kindness in his smile, and he inquires again: “Everything okay with Neal?”

 And Emma nods a bit too abruptly for it to be believable, and she knows Graham is smart enough to see it, but she nods harder, it’s the only movement her brain seems to know. “Neal? It’s never been better.” And a quick, lively chuckle to seal the deal. 

 And really had she laughed harder she would have choked on her fears.

 (Her fears have blue eyes and are missing a limb now, and she does not dare to send him a text, to ask him “How are you?” because he must be feeling like shit, and in part it is because of her, she left him, but he had no right to kiss her like this and she had no right to kiss him back.)

 .

 She has David on the phone later this week.

 “Hello, Emma. I’ve arrived in Portsmouth. I’ll be spending the week with him.”

 She hates the feeling of guilt that circles her heart, even as she sighs her biggest sigh of relief. 

“Thank you, David, it means the world. I would have come, you know, but I’m so busy with the wedding and the sheriff station and—”

 “Sure thing, Emma,” he blurts out and Emma thinks he sounds so accusative, it nearly knocks her out. She is convinced she deserves it. “I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.” A few words more, and he hangs up.

 For the first time in ages, Emma feels like Killian and she are on opposite teams, and David has chosen his.

 She swallows a lump down her throat. 

 .

 Emma caves in on Saturday night. Outside, the rain is pouring heavily against her windows. The wind is also howling, curling around the walls of the house and threatening to crush it under its strength. 

Neal is out at Granny’s watching a soccer game with friends when Emma sits down on the hard wooden floor of their living room. Her legs are crossed and her heart is drumming in her ears, and she calls him. There’s a bottle of red wine in front of her, and it’s looking at her with a lot of judgement in its glassy eyes but Emma doesn’t care.

 She cannot go on like this. She needs to know that he is alright, and that this was all a grave, stupid mistake, and she needs him to say something like “I’m fine, Emma, I’ll survive this” but also “I meant to do that for years” and then it would be her cue to nod under the ceiling light, tears in her smile and she’d say some stupid shit like “Oh god, I’ve been waiting for you to say that” and then she’d drop everything to fly back to him and they’d be happy together or some shit.

 Ring, ring, ring.

 That’s a lovely dream indeed.

 Ring, ring, ring.

 And just as Emma gets impatient, not to say she gets scared, a voice answers her. It’s a groggy, foggy voice, and it does not belong to Killian.

 “Hello, what is it?” The voice echoes, chuckles, as music resonates behind it, and it is the voice of a woman.

 Emma figures they must be in some kind of pub, just like Neal is.

 “Is this Killian’s phone?” attempts Emma, fingers clutched onto the phone, and heart on her sleeves.

 “Yup...” Another giggle. Emma decides she hates the voice. “But he is currently unavailable. Do you want me to give him a message?”

 And then Emma hears his voice, emerging from a twirl of songs and other talks. “Why are you using my phone, Tink?”

 Emma thinks Killian’s voice irrupts into her empty house just as a gust of wind rattles her shutters. She flinches. And for a minute, glances above her shoulder, afraid that he might appear behind her back. 

But silence is her only companion. And this house is so impressively, distinctively silent. 

 Something clicks inside of Emma’s brain. Tink. She knows Tink. What’s her real name? Mary something. They went to high school together, and she had a disgustingly big crush on Killian, and, and –

 “I dunno, some chick.”

 And Emma barely has time to hear Killian’s “Which chick?” before she hangs up on a whim.

 She heaves, hands trembling around the phone, and something grotesque disfigures her face.  

 She was worried about him and he’s been having the time of his life with this Tink, and, and – what was she expecting?

 She stares at the floor as though she is able to distinguish the broken bits of her heart spilled there, and the bloody marks they leave, and it’s such a goddamn mess, and how could she allow herself to feel this way after all these years, after having been shown all the goddamn reasons why Killian Jones will never love her back a hundred fucking times.

 .

 Rose-Mary, of her surname Tink, tosses and turns in Killian’s bed. He is fast asleep next to her, one hand thrown across his face. He snores lightly.

 Tink has this tingling desire deep within her, this desire to grab the phone he left on his nightstand and delete Emma Swan’s call from it.

 “Give me the phone, Tink!”

 Back in the bar, she was quite lucky to find out in the shape of his raised eyebrows that Killian Jones wasn’t actually serious, that he was seriously hammered and couldn’t have cared less for his phone if he had tried. As her only answer, she had simply locked her lips to his and pressed his phone’s home button to switch it off.

 Because Tink knows Emma Swan.

 Killian Jones was already in love with her when Tink asked him out, during their senior year. She cannot forget the look on his face, as she was standing in the middle of the hallway, risking her heart. Behind her, Emma Swan was leaning against a locker with Mary Margaret and Ruby, and Killian simply, positively wouldn’t look Tink in the eyes.

 “I’m sorry, love,” he said, “but my affections lie elsewhere.” And Tink remembers thinking he surely didn’t have to sound like he escaped from one of Shakespeare’s plays, and she turned to discover the pretty blonde smiling at Killian, waving with mischief, and his arm around her shoulders as soon as he reached her.

 Some things were truly unfair.

 As luck would have it, Killian’s path crossed hers years ago – when he moved to Portsmouth to join the Navy whilst she began Nursing school. But even then, he didn’t seem interested, was dating an older woman.

 And then, finally, two days ago, their paths crossed again in a bar. He is missing a hand now, but he is still the same handsome guy she crushed on in high school. Perched on a stool, he looked disheveled, desperate, nose in his rum glass, and he welcomed her into his warm, solid arms.

 “Still in contact with Emma Swan?” she asked, and it wasn’t like she cared. She didn’t want more than he could offer. But still, she asked.

 “Emma? Who’s Emma? I only see you.”

 Although she knew that to be a lie, she still decided to kiss him back, knowing the instant Killian Jones heard Emma Swan’s name again, well then, he would find a very gentle, delicate way to make her go away.

 And that’s fine. But if she can prevent it, well –

 Tink stands up as silently as she can, and like a feather in the wind, grabs his phone. He casually gave her his pin number earlier during the night — change this bloody song Tink will you — and Tink deletes Emma’s call in the blink of an eye.

 Satisfaction sparkles in her heart. No one will bother them anymore.

 .

 As Neal and Emma go on tasting wedding cakes, Emma thinks about how Killian never called her back. Not the morning after her conversation with Tink, not the night after, not the day after, he did not call. Period. It’s the only answer he is willing to give, and she accepts it.

 He doesn’t care about her. Not like she cares, anyway.  

 “The chocolate one,” Emma mumbles, trying not to spit crumbs of cakes out of her mouth and failing, “it’s perfect.”

 Delicacy remains a skill she has yet to learn.

 But Neal doesn’t seem to mind when he chuckles and kisses her cheek. Emma grabs his face and doesn’t care that there are still chocolate chunks in her mouth and she kisses him, hard, to forget the taste of Killian Jones’ lips.

 .

 Killian stares at the picture of Emma and himself on his fridge. It’s been a month, stammers his heart. She will not call, now.

 Tink is still sleeping in his bed. He needs to call things off with her as well. She’s too attached, he’ll break her heart. That’s one too many hearts to be responsible for.

 He swallows stone, but he takes the picture off the fridge. It’s too painful to stare at what ifs.

 .

 A few minutes before Emma and Neal say “I do”.

 Taking a picture off a fridge is simple enough. Not racing towards the town hall of Storybrooke to try, one last time, and stop Emma’s wedding, isn’t nearly as easily done.

 Hope and denial are, after all, two very close kingdoms and both of them inhabit Killian’s heart.

 At least he’s got that going for him. However, Mary Margaret and David – who are also running beside him – really have nothing going for them except for their foolishness.

 How dare they show up in his home and tear him out of his cobweb of misery and self-pity. How bloody dare they.

 “There’s no use arguing, I’m not going!” he yelled, and then Mary Margaret had this very dangerous smile, and before he knew it, his ass sat on a plane between the two of them and he was wearing his most expensive tie.

 “And look sharp, Killian.” 

 Which is why, as Killian races down that street corner, and up that small hill by Granny’s, and then down again Main street, towards the town hall, Killian no longer expects Emma and Neal to come out of the building, holding hands, married. 

 But that’s exactly what happens.

 They come out as a crowd of strangers surrounds them, and they look like the sun has set all of its rays of sunshine on them, they are shining, shining, much like the waves of fear down Killian’s belly because he is too late. Of course he is. 

 And he wants to turn around and hit David in the face. 

 But what’s the use of fighting anymore? The war is lost. Lay your weapons down. Bring the soldiers home.

 And in that moment, as the sun seems to align with some divine power and its golden beams shine on Emma’s eyes, glittering green lakes, she gazes at him and he holds his breath. In spite of everything, he still thinks she is the most beautiful woman on earth. He smiles, as his heart shatters to the ground, as Neal kisses her open mouth. 

What is there else to do but smile?

 “Fuck,” exclaims Mary Margaret next to him, and Killian sure does nod.

 “Aye. Couldn’t have said it better myself.”  

 .

 Present day – Neal and Emma’s wedding reception.

 Neal watches as Emma shuts the large French windows that lead to the balcony behind her. He puts down his glass of champagne on the white table in front of him. The bubbles fizz inside, as if to mock him.

 For there’s not the shadow of a smile on his wife’s face. In fact, she looks utterly devastated. Her complexion is pale, her cheeks have lost all the colors they gathered during their dances, and there is not one sparkle of happiness left in her green eyes.

 A frown. Why does his wife look devastated at their wedding?

 He sees her glance down, seemingly lost, and she does this thing when she doesn’t know where to put her hands, so she folds them in front of her. And she plays with the bracelet around her wrist, twists the little charms, twists, twists his heart.

 And then he realizes. She’s waiting. But for what? Or rather, for whom?

 He wishes the answer didn’t come quite as soon, not quite as sharply, he wishes the room did not start spinning as Killian Jones leaves the balcony in his turn – devilishly handsome as he’d say and looking entirely like a mess.

 What a picture. They both look devastated. They look like the bride and groom, him in his white shirt and her in her white dress. Two bleeding snowflakes under a golden chandelier.

 Neal watches as Emma risks a glance back, but Killian doesn’t look up, only stares at the hard wooden floor, Neal watches as she presses her lips together and straightens her back, but still glances back at him.

 Always back at him. Of course. 

 And that’s when one realization hits Neal quite hard.

 His wife… His wife is in love with someone else. He just married someone who is irrevocably and for all of eternity in love with someone else.

 Why did he do this to himself? For the longest of times, Neal thought it didn’t matter that Emma’s gaze was filled with green, shimmering clouds of pain whenever Killian Jones’ name was mentioned in a conversation, he really thought it didn’t matter that her cheeks would always flush whenever she received a text from him, because he was the one kissing her lips and sleeping between her sheets.

 He was such a fool.

 He married a woman in love with someone else.

 Such a fool.

 Neal grabs his glass of champagne again, downs it in a few angry mouthfuls, and gathers courage and legs to stand and stride towards his wife.

 Emma might be in love with Killian, but she loves him too, surely she does, or she wouldn’t have agreed to this marriage, right?

 And there is something very scary vibrating in his chest, fear, a green and viscous fear, he’s losing her, she’s slipping between her fingers…

 “Neal,” Emma’s voice is very soft as it greets him, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

 How dare she, how dare she be in love with Killian, when Neal gave up everything for her, when he…

 From the corner of his eye, Neal can see Killian lean against the wall. He is looking at them. Perfect. Now watch, you little fucker.

 “Hello, baby,” two words, and Neal dips Emma and savagely presses his lips onto hers.

 A burst of applause rattles the crowd. 

Neal tries his best to muffle the voice inside his head that sneers that the only thing their guests are cheering at, is the end of their love.

 .

  “I’m going back to our room, I’m really tired” mumbles Emma over her empty mojito glass.

The sea whispers behind her back. Neal doesn’t look up from his piña colada. 

 On the terrace of this luxurious hotel by the French Riviera, Neal and Emma are sitting and everything sucks.

 It is the third day of their honeymoon, and for Neal, it is the last straw. There is no way in hell he can keep up this charade. They both deserve better than this.

 She’s been looking miserable since they arrived here – it isn’t for a lack of trying to conceal it. Actually, no, it’s worse than that. She’s been looking miserable since Killian Jones left their wedding without a look back at her. Should have seen her face, Eurydice left by Orpheus in the depths of hell.  

 It’s killing him to see her like this, to know there’s nothing he can do to make things better. Purely and simply because, as much as he’s tried to, Neal Cassidy will never replace Killian Jones in Emma Swan’s heart.

 And as she bends towards him to give him a quick peck on the lips, a very vicious sentence tickles his tongue and he lets it out without a second thought.

 “Bet you looked more eager to kiss Killian.”

 It is a dick move, yes, but after all he isn’t the one who cheated on her, and Neal thinks she deserves a little karma.

 The look she darts on him then would have probably killed him, had there not been empty glasses standing between the two of them to shield him.

 “What the hell are you talking about?” she spits out in a sharp, defensive tone. 

Neal is surprised she tries to deny it all.

 “Your lover sent you a letter,” he hisses back.

 Satisfaction sparkles in his heart at the sight of her face turning crimson under the moonlight.  

 He watches as she angrily gulps a last mouthful of rum, watches as her knuckles whiten around her glass and her jaw clenches. “Who are you talking about?”

“Who the hell do you think I’m talking about?” 

And then the god forsaken, sacrilegious name. “...Killian sent me a letter?”

 And from guilt to anger, there is only one, treacherous step. And she seems eager to jump it.

 “Oh yeah, he did. Said it all about your kiss and loving you, and I nearly vomited…”

 And then it is really upsetting because he wants to be mad but her face does that thing where it just freezes, mouth open wide and eyes even wider, and it would have been funny had he not been putting an end to their short-lived marriage.

 “He…he loves me?”

 She cannot possibly not know it. She can’t be that oblivious to reality.

 “I’m telling you I know you cheated on me and that’s your only reaction?” A roll of eyes, his voice coming out shriller, to mock her, mock her pain, because he wants to hurt her like she hurt him. “ “He loves me?” Of course he loves you, Emma!” he blurts out, because the entire world knows it except for her, apparently.  

 He can’t have married someone as oblivious.

 Well, you did marry her knowing she was in love with someone else.

 And she stands up, cheeks hot and burning and red, and she isn’t making any sense anymore. “What the hell are you talking about? Killian doesn’t love me, he never has.”

 And seeing her wrath, the way her body trembles and shakes, he knows she is truly convinced Killian Jones isn’t in love with her.

 But how…

 “You really don’t know, do you?”

 “Where is that letter?”

 “I got rid of it, of course!”

 “Then you have no proof! How convenient.”

 He wants to stop her then, to yell “Hey YOU cheated on me,” but he can tell that in her grand order of things, her cheating on him has nothing on Killian Jones possibly loving her.

 And then a small, mad chuckle jolts out of her mouth. “Killian would never write a letter. You made that up.”

 “But how would I know about the kiss?”

 “I don’t know, and I don’t care, and I, I—” A turn, and then she is gone, disappearing in a tornado of anger and guilt and sand.

 Neal doesn’t try to hold her back, remains very still on his seat, lets her go, much like he should have years ago. He glances down at the empty drink between his fingers.

 The waves crash against the sand, whoosh, whoosh, and Neal feels terribly lonely.

 But at peace.

 But mostly lonely.

 Damnit, she is stubborn, and she is lucky he’s in love with her. That he’ll always be, somehow, even if he is a fucking idiot who probably blew his only chance at love when he stole those watches.

 .

 Later that night, Neal finds her sitting on their king side bed and its perfectly white blankets, hands folded in front of her like he knows them to, shoulders down and head bent towards the floor, and Neal desperately wants to hug her.

 There is not an ounce of anger left in his body. Only sadness. 

 There’s not a flicker of light in their room as he sits down by her side. The rustle of the waves can be heard from their room. It’s the only reason why he chose it. He knows she loves that sound. 

(He doesn’t know she loves it because of him, but that’s fine.)

  “Hey…” he begins softly, and his shoulder gently bumps against hers. “You okay?”

 She’s twirling her wedding ring around her finger. Of course she is. She always has been. And that should have been a clue, too.

 “Are you being sincere right now?” she asks, and her voice is nothing like the voice he’s grown to love.

 Emma’s voice has always been soft, but vibrating with a very triumphant confidence as well.

 “What do you mean?” he asks, because precisely he doesn’t know what she means.

 He’s never understood her like Killian can, in spite of how much he loves her. And while he spent most of the beginning of his adulthood hating him for it, he realizes now it is simply a battle he cannot win.

 She lifts her face up, and he makes out her shimmering eyes in the darkness.

 “I cheated on you. Aren’t you mad?”

 A gigantic sigh shakes his shoulders as these past six months flash before his eyes.

 “I was angry, Emma. But it’s been too long, I’m not anymore.”

 “Too long?”

 Oh, right, that. She’ll hate him, but well, she deserves the truth. He winces, fidgets with the collar of his shirt.

 “I might have been hiding this letter from you for a good six months now…” he whispers, and forces a smile on his face as an apology. 

 “You what?”

 She doesn’t sound nearly as angry as he expected her to. In fact, she doesn’t sound angry at all. She sounds defeated, hopeless.

 “I was so scared that if I confronted you, you would just run and never marry me, and I thought I could hold on to you by not telling you…But I was wrong. There was no holding on to you.”

 And something terrible rattles her body then, as she cups her face and disappears even more in a small, scared puddle over the bed.

 “Fuck. I’m sorry Neal. I ruined everything.”

 And he shakes his head then, grabs one of her hands. “There’s no need to apologize, Emma. We both fucked up. I should have let you go a long time ago.”

 His throat is tight, but he knows this is the right thing to do.

 “What are we going to do now?” she whispers, just as one of his arms comes to wrap around her shoulders.

 She muffles a sigh in the crook of his neck while he gently brushes her hair.  

 “I don’t know. Is there some kind of three weeks wedding notice?”

 She chuckles then, but he can clearly imagine the tears rolling down her cheeks as she sniffles into his neck.

 “You’re an idiot.”

 “I am.”

 Silence. By then, it’s somehow raining in the room and his shirt is soaked.

 “I’ll always love you. You know that, right, Emma?”

 She nods in the darkness, her hand clutching onto his shoulder, and she seems to him a firefly caught between a child’s chubby hands.

 “I know, Neal.”

 “Good.”

  .

 Moving out of this house is one of the weirdest things Emma has ever had to do.

 “Emma, you’re not coming?” calls David’s voice, and Emma looks up to see his head peering from the driver’s seat of his old, orange truck.

 Safely packing all of the pieces of furniture was a collective effort. Mary Margaret, Ingrid and Ruby also came to help, and Emma is quite thankful. It’s such a blinding, sunny day of August, and if not for the fresh breeze that swirls between the tree branches, it would be unbreathable.

 Emma simply shakes her head. “No, don’t worry. I’ll join you guys later at Granny’s.” 

Her right foot nearly knocks out the small cardboard box at her feet, sending a loop down her stomach. 

This one she’ll carry herself.  

 Neal and Emma agreed to sell the house and the furniture, and Neal – well Neal decided to move to Boston, and Emma cannot quite blame him.

 This last month has been…weird, on so many levels, and Neal wasn’t the weirdest thing about it.

 “Alright. Call us if you need anything.”

 As David drives away, Emma stares back at the house. Her feet seem buried into the doormat, the door still open wide, and her fingers clutch onto the keys.

 It is a bittersweet sight, those empty walls.

 She thinks life has a funny way of coming around. She thinks she thought she’d have a family there, with Neal, she thinks she thought this was what she wanted, what she could bear to have and risk losing.

 She’s glad that Neal showed himself braver than she ever could. That he refused to settle, for both of their sakes.

 She inhales deeply.

 Exhales.

 And lets it go. All of it.  

 Click, she locks the door, and turns her back on her past.

 A summer breeze greets her face, swirls around her legs and tangles her hair, and she closes her eyes into the warm embrace. It carries childhood smells, this smell of burnt wood, and Rocky Road ice-cream, and Killian’s cologne.

 “Heard you needed help moving out?” Her eyes snap open. Her heart skips a beat.

 It’s August in Storybrooke, Maine, and anything is possible again. 

 The wind carries the first fallen leaves to her feet and his scent to her heart. Something mystical splits her face as she takes a step towards him. She nearly trips on the cardboard box at her feet, again, grunts and picks it up in a blink, and she hears it – his laughter in the wind.

 As she looks up, a flower blooms in her chest, carries blood to her heart and her face with its roots, and her lungs are soon filled to the brim with petals. 

 “Yeah.” A quivering whisper, it is hard to breathe when the sun drops golden and blue beams into his eyes. “Thank you, Killian.”

 And in a few strides he imprisons the cardboard box she held against her chest, the one containing memories of her childhood, and his eyes are so warm on her face that he steals her breath away.

 “Any baggage left?” he asks, and it is a hoarse whisper as well. 

She swallows hard.

 She shivers beside him. She’s a fallen leaf herself, caught in a whirlwind. Her eyes are open wide and she feels completely swallowed by his gaze but it is a wonderful kind of fear.

 “Not at all.”

 And he smiles then, and it is one of the most gentle smiles she’s seen on his face, and at last, he is Killian and she is Emma.

 “Good.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

The PA - part 3/3

Pairing: Tony Stark x named!Reader

Summary: You have had neough of Tony Stark and his arrogant, selfish ass. So you leave... At least for a while. 

Warnings: Swearing (a lot), angst, fluff.

A/N: Ok, this a hostirical date for me, as this is my FIRST EVER story I finished. I know it was a short one, but I am still proud. There is a lot going on in this chapter and I thought of ending it differently but here you go. I hope you all liked it <3

Comments and opinions are always welcomed :*

Words: 6000+ (ooops)

nothing really changed. You were hidden in your office doing everything your boss needed without the need to ask. You sent him everything via email and cared for his health fr the shadow. A cooked dinner and bottles of water were always waiting for him. Adding a hot chocolate for the night. Nothing changed. And yet everything did. 

Those hot chocolates you used to make were now drunk alone. There was no billionaire to join you in it with his sarcastic and fun comments. There were no back massage that you enjoyed giving almost as much as he receiving. And what's more, there were no parties for you. You couldn't bear to see him dancing, kissing and flirting with went. You knew you were pathetic. You loved the man who would never see you as more than just a worker and a "kid". 

Who were you kidding. You had nothing on the women he was 'seeing'. All those pretty little things with perfect bodies and probably experienced enough to keep him entertained for a whole night. 

You swallowed and shook your head to get that image out of it. You were tired. There wasn't more work per se but it exhausted you mentally to always try to omit him. You missed him his face, the smile and cheeky comments. But you couldn't do it to your heart. A heart that has already been broken so many times by the same man. 

You looked up when a ping when an email showed up. To your personal email. Your heart skipped a beat and eyes widened their twice size, when you noticed the sender. 

"What the fuck?" You whispered and turned around hearing a gasp. You met with a smiling Romanoff, leaving on the edge of the doors. 

"This is the first time I heard you swear" She said teasingly. "What got you so worked up?"

You moved away from the laptop for her to see. She read through the email carefully and she looked at you with the biggest softness and pride anyone has ever showed you. 

"This is amazing. A damn MIT wants you to work with them. This is huge, honey!" You bit your lip and looked away. "But for some unknown reasons you don't look happy."

"It's just an interview, it doesn't mean I will get the job, and… " You looked away, a shame of even thinking about it in the moment like that. 

"And you would have to leave Tony… " You closed your eyes, hating how she was able to just understand you without words. A damn Russian spy stuff. "He's an adult…  you'll just find him a new assistant. Or a babysitter, I'm never sure what your official position actually is." You giggled at her playfulness and rolled your eyes at her. 

"I have been working for him for so long… I can't just leave him alone." You looked away when she frowned and sighed. Of the 'Disappointed Natasha Romanoff' comes to action. 

"What about you? When will you finally take care of yourself?" Her stern tone made you flinch and start to nervously play with the hem of your Iron Maiden shirt. "You had dreams, and I sure know you have hobbies. You're still young, but act like a 60 years old woman, for God's sake." You clenched your fingers and shut your eyes, to stop the tears from falling. She was angry and that was the first time you noticed this. What was worse she was disappointed at you, and that hurt you more than anything. 

Natasha Romanoff was like an older sister for you. You learned to love her and you felt her love towards you, despite the fact that she showed it differently to other people. She was there for you and knew about your hidden feelings to Stark.  She always supported you and told you how everything will be fine. She understood your shyness and tried to work through your low self esteem. She was always patient with you. Until now. You guessed, everyone had their limit, and ger has just ended. 

"You stay here, hidden in this cave. Running away from your feelings. You are afraid to do anything. You got so used to being his assistant that you are afraid of being alone. And your pinning to Tony? I hoped you'd understand that int hat party. He isn't a relationship type of guy and you're not a one night stand type of girl. Your love for him? Stop going for something you can't have!" You lowered your head to hide the tears that started to fall. You clenched your fingers on your thigh so hard that you could feel how your nails climbed into your clothes. But it didn't bother you. The physical was not even close to your mental one. It was one thing to make yourself believe that this love you had would never happen, but when someone else said it to you. It made it real. "Stop living in a dream world and wake up, before it's too late! " She hissed and stormed out of your lablab.  And this was when everything you hidden so deep inside you, went out to the light. You asked Jarvis to lock the doors to your lab and you screamed and cried until you had no more tears. 

*

"Weren't you a bit too harsh?" She looked at Bucky who was leaning on the wall, near the elevator. 

"She needed that." Barnes scoffed and followed the redhead. "She's was about to turn down her dream job for him." Bucky frowned and sighed. "She loves him and all he does is hurt her. It isn't his fault really. He doesn't know, doesn't understand. Stark isn't the type of person that would be able to see true love. This is why she needs to let go. Live her own life. And if getting her dream job and leaving him would make it happen than she needs to. " Barnes smiled sadly. Nat really cared about you. Hse loved you like you were her little sister and he found it charming. But he did feel bad for you. You fell in love with a wrong guy. A very decent human, but a dumb man. 

**

You looked at you clothes and sighed. It wasn't you. You didn't dress like that. A pencil skirt and a white shirt. You felt uncomfortable and stupid. You flinched when you put the heels on and sighed. Well it was a job interview. You needed to look presentable. You took your bag with everything you needed in it and took a deep breath. Yes, it was just an interview. Not like you'd get that job. There were hundreds applicants will were probably better than you. But after Nat you decided to give it a try. You didn't speak to her, and if you were being honest, you didn't speak to anyone. No one new about your bid day, not even Tony. He didn't need to know. It was only an interview. The first step of it. Not like you were leaving him just yet. 

And so you walked to the elevators and dl being deep down in your thoughts you didn't notice Tony waiting for the elevator, just as you walked out. 

"To…  Mr. Stark… " You whispered, when you almost walked into him. He looked you over and frowned. 

"A hot date?" He asked. You knew he tried to joke but there was something in his tone that made you wonder it he was really kidding. 

"I…" You clenched your bag and bit your bottom lip nervously. "I will be back soon." He raised his brow and nodded, not saying anything else walked into the elevator, leaving you standing there. This did not help your anxiety at all. You tried to relax and went to your already waiting Uber. 

*

"She has a what now?" Tony shouted looking at Natasha with anger in his eyes. "She never told me! "

"It was hard to tell you when you both omitted Yourselves… " She answered with a roll to her eyes. "MIT if I remember right." His eyes widelec, remembering how much you always wanted to work there. A job interview. You went to a job interview without telling him. 

"Well good for her." He shrugged, turning around to miss the way the woman rolled her eyes. "What should I do? Isn't it like breaking some kind of contract? Going to a job interview still working for me?"

"Don't be petty, Tony." She warned him and he scoffed. 

"I thought she would at least tell me. You know for references… "

"She wasn't sure she'd get the job. Not to mention the fact I needed to force her to go." He frowned and she rolled her eyes. Men were really stupid. "Talk to her, Tony. But like a proper human being. An adult." She patted him on the shoulder and left the room, leaving him alone. 

**

You sighed and sat at your desk, feeling more than tired. The whole interview was exhausted, and you weren’t sure if most of those questions were even appropriate. ‘How close are you with Mr Stark?’ ‘Do you believe Mr Stark would be up to donating money for our cause?’ And more inappropriate and too personal questions for your liking. You were happy when the rector finally showed up. It was when you shined the most. Talking about your PhD project, the possible prospects of it and your father ideas. Even Though he asked you about Stark, those questions were thoughtful. 

“He has his reputation”, he chuckled softly and you nodded unable to disagree. “Not many people would leave a safe, warm, probably well-paid job, to come work with us.” He took off his glasses and looked at you. “Is there something I should know? The reason for your application with us?” 

“I was right after Uni, when Mr Stark gave me that job.” You answered quietly, feeling a weird shame for even being here. “It was a great opportunity for me to grow, but I want to be a scientist, not a PA.” You smiled and looked him in the eyes. “Don’t get me wrong. Working with Mr Stark was a privilege and I was able to learn so much from him, but it’s time for me to make my own projects.” Visibly satisfied with your answer he put his glasses back on and looked at your CV.

“How about you tell us more about that idea you had?”

You closed your eyes and sighed. You felt good after the whole discussion, but it still felt like you would not get the job. Not to mention, that you would probably have to talk to Tony about your references. You whined and lay on your desk. 

“Are you alright, Miss?” Jarvis’ voice was filled with concern, after registering your annoyed noises. 

“Not really. I think I have an existential crisis.” You chuckled to yourself, at how stupid that sounded. 

“Anything I can help you with?” You smiled at his thoughtfulness. 

“Is there some kind of algorithm that would help me choose between what my heart and my brain tell me?” There was a silence for a moment after Jarvis turned on your computer showing you multiple web pages opened. 

“I’m afraid there is no algorithm, but there some sociological and psychological studies regarding the issue.” You sat up and laughed out loud at this. “But Mr Stark always considered social sciences an, let me quote, “utter bullshit”, so I am not sure if they would help you. 

‘Thank you Jarvis, you’re the best!” You quipped looking through the pages.

“I’ve been told!”

**

“I know that, she worked for me for some time now.” He murmured through the phone. He expected the call for references, but not so soon. He was sure to hear you just come back.

“This is a huge deal. We have never hired someone so young and with so little experience before.” The rector sighed on the other side of the phone. “I need to know if she will work out.” Tony frowned and looked through the window. He had Nat’s voice in his head telling him to be an adult, to not be selfish. But he can’t. He cannot lose you. You were the best and brightest thing in his life now. WIthout you he would be lost. As an Iron Man, and as Tony Stark. So he did something selfish, already hating himself for it. 

“She’s a good PA. That’s all I can say.” It was harsh, and was definitely burying your chances. He knew you were more than that. He saw you in his lab, repairing his armour, or adding comments to his plans. You were more than a secretary. You were a genius. The best possible person for this job. But he was petty. He was once again acting like a kid. He heard the rectors deep sigh and he understood, that he just fucked up. Your career, your life. And the solemn idea of you finding out about it, was killing him. 

“I understand confidentiality is still a thing up there?” He asked and could hear the man chuckle. 

“Don’t worry, Tony.” He turned the phone off and threw it across the room, watching it crack on the wall. He fucked up. Badly. 

**

“I see!” You tried to keep your voice as steady as possible, despite the tears appearing in your eyes. “No, no I understand, of course.” The strings of thanks and apologies were thrown and you bit your lip, hoping to end the call ASAP. “Yes, I will!” You lied, when the rector told you to keep on trying. You ended the call and let the tears flow. 

It was stupid really. You knew deep down, that you wouldn’t get the job and yet. Yet it still hurt to know you weren’t enough. You wanted to climb the highest of mountains so it should not have surprised you to fall. 

“What’s wrong?” You wiped your tears and put your phone away. 

“Nothing, Natasha, everything is under control.” You stated, your voice only a bit shaky. You didn’t turn to welcome her. You opened your laptop and started to work. 

“Did you go?” She asked, and you rolled your eyes. Can’t you just be left alone?

“Yes” short answers, hoping for her to understand you didn’t want to talk. Especially not with her. Not with the person that pushed you to go. “I’m sorry Natasha, I have lots of work to do.” The woman raised her brows and sighed. 

“What happened?” 

“I’m just a PA.” You answered after a moment of awkwards silence. “Without much of experience in the field. I’m nothing more than Stark’s PA, who happened to finish MIT.” You shrugged your shoulders and sighed. The tears were back and the screen was starting to get blurry. “At least I don’t have to choose anymore!” You chuckled through the sobs and hid your face in your hands. “I’m sorry. Can you… I did what you told me to. I went and I failed, please can you leave me alone? One time in my damn life I thought I am worth more than I truly am! And I knew that, but then you …!” You got up and looked her in her beautiful eyes. “Do you know why I always hide in that fucking shell of mine, you seem to have such a problem with!?” Widow’s eyes widened at your use of language. She never seen you like that. Never heard you speak so that. That little, quiet mice seemed to have enough. ���Because my life taught me, that I will never be more than I am. I was never enough for anyone. My parents, people at school and Uni, my professors, and him… I learned to live with the fact that I am nothing more than a loser, unwanted by anyone. But then you had to make me go and…” 

“I’m sorry.” She pulled you for a huge and kissed you at the top of your head. “I just wanted to help. I wanted to see you happy. See you live your own life. I’m sorry, sweety.” She cooed you and you couldn’t help but hug her back, repeating words of apologise into her neck. 

*

He closed his eyes hearing your cries. Your tone, the raised voice. He wondered how long were you keeping those feelings inside. It broke his stoned heart to see you, hear you like that, only to know that he was the reason for this. You blamed Nat for it, only because you didn’t know how awful he was. He took a deep breath, and deciding to leave you be, he came back to him room. Hoping Romanoff would help you. 

**

“What’s wrong, kiddos?” He announced looking at the Avengers assembling in the kitchen. 

“Please stop saying that. There are at least three people  here who are older than you.” Clint sighed, playing with his chips. 

“What’s up with Lex?” Steve asked with his Captain America voice, glancing at Stark, his guts telling him, the billionaire had something to do with it. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, playing stupid. It has been two weeks since the MIT call and Tony hasn’t seen you. He wasn’t sure if you were ignoring him even more than after the Christmas party, or you were just that busy. You did work. Yes, definitely did work. Everything went more smoothly than ever. He noticed because he had more free time. And if he was being honest, he was starting to get bored. 

“I haven’t seen her since the party. I thought it was die to the New Year party workload, but then she seemed to disappear even more.”

“Yeah not to mention that I actually miss that big smile on her face, when she sees her favorite Avenger. “Sam chimed in, making Bucky and Nat roll their eyes. “But seriously, should we worry?” Everyone looked at Stark who sighed deeply, taking his cup of coffee with him. 

“I’ll talk to her, kids. No worries, daddy will take care of it.”

“I really hate when he says that!” He chuckled, hearing Steve’s disgust in tone. 

**

“So she lives!” You jumped at his voice, behind you. It was a middle of the night and you truly hoped he would be sleeping already. Or at least at his room. “Are you making the magical chocolate?”

“Magical chocolate?” You raised your brow at him and he smiled, shrugging his shoulder. 

“I never had a better massage than during that hot chocolate night meeting last time.” you blushed and looked away, hearing him chuckle. “Any leftovers?” You nodded and prepared him a cup, pouring the mixture into it, and adding the marshmallows. She put it in front of him and was about to leave, when his fingers circled at your wrists, stopping you. “Sit with me, please.” You bit your lip nervously and obeyed taking the sit opposite. As far as possible. “I have something to tell you and you have to promise me you will listen to everything before you slap me and slap the doors behind you.” You frowned and looked at him. Your heart broken a bit, when you noticed the face he made. He looked like a kicked puppy. Like a little kid that knew he messed up. 

“Mr Stark, I don’t…”

“Please… They worry about you. I worry about you. Since that damn stupid Christmas party everything went to hell. I fucked up, you saw it and…

“Listen. When you started working for me I made it clear fuck complete of a mess I was, right?” You raised your brow but nodded, even a small smile appearing on your lips. “I am a messed up person. A guy in his…” He coughed awkwardly. “Well my age doesn't matter here.” You bit your lip not to laugh, which made him smile. “I always got what I wanted. A spoiled, stupid kid, with more money and looks than brain.

“I still don’t know what you see in me.” He smiled at you softly. “I am not stupid, kid. I see the way you look at me. I do. And it flattens me. You are this genuine girl, with kind heart, smart and beautiful in and out and… You are too innocent for me to break you. I am not someone you should fall in love with. Someone who should be your first boyfriend. Your first love in life.”

“Forgive me, but I think I should have a right to decide who I fall in love with…” You bit your lip nervously, staring at the table. You missed the way he smiled softly at that. His look softened and he sighed. 

“Of course. But this… This is not the reason why I needed to talk to you…” You nodded, giving him a go to continue. “How was your interview at MIT?” You stiffened and looked at him with big eyes. 

“Natasha told you?” 

“The rector called.” You swallowed and frowned. “For references…” Something in his tone made you realise where this was going and you felt your heart beat fasten. “I… I’m sorry kid. I-I couldn’t let you go. I needed you. I… fuck I didn’t want to live in a life where you wouldn’t be there to help me. Be there for me and…”

“What did you say, Tony?” If the situation was different he would enjoy the fact that you said his name, but not now, not with the seriousness behind it. 

“I said you were a good PA.” The pain in your eyes broke his heart. You opened your eyes to say something, but couldn’t. All this made sense now. The good interview and an awful ending. “Listen… I know you may hate me now…”

“Is this all that I am?” You asked and frowned. “Is this really what you think of me? A good PA?” There was a silence between the two of you. A painful one. For both him and you. 

“Of course not. You are so much more.” He tried to hold onto your hand, but you backed away. “You are so smart and incredibly talented. You can do so much more than just this job.  I…

“I was afraid that you would leave and I would be alone. And this scared the shit out of me.I can’t imagine you not being here. Not being able to…”

“I quit.” His heart stopped at your proclamation. You stood up, still looking down at the table. Your hands starting to shake with anger, your heart beat fastened and you felt like you were about to cry. “I can’t… You crossed that line…”

“What line?” He asked, looking at you, hoping that whatever you just said was a stupid slip off. “I apologised, damn it!”

“And, what? Everything should be fine now? Because you apologised!?” You shouted, staring at him with your angry expression. “For so many years I hid my anger towards you. I hid it, because I loved you more than I was angry at you.” His eyes widened. He expected your feelings, but hearing them was a totally different aspect. “But this? You ruined my future, my dreams because you are a selfish bastard!” You pushed your hands away from him to make sure you wouldn’t punch him. 

“I told you I was afraid…” 

“Yes!” You shouted, tears streaming down your cheeks. “You were afraid. You didn’t stop for a second to even consider how I was feeling. You knew… I told you so many times before about my dreams. About my insecurities about them, and yet you used them against me. You used that biggest doubt and used it for your own good! It shouldn’t surprise me, not should it hurt. But yet here I am, with my heart broken. Because I was so close in burying that dream, only to make you happy. To stay by your side, because helping you was more important for me than pursuing my own dreams!” You shook your head and clenched your fingers. “I went for that damn interview, because Natasha made me. She told me I hiding behind you, afraid to take a step forward. But it wasn’t it. I was just trying to protect you. Make you happy. And what do I get in return? you betrayed me, Tony. The one person I thought I could trust, the one person who I thought new about my insecurities. The one man I was able to trust and love in my stupid life, used me, because his needs were more important than what I’d want.” You wiped your eyes and turned around. “I will send you an email with PA that would gladly take my place.”

“I don’t want them!” he shouted, getting up to get closer to you. “I don’t want anyone, but you. I know! Fuck, I know i made a mistake. I know I was selfish, but please… one more time. Give me a chance to prove myself. To show you I am not a dick! Please! I won’t survive without you. I need you. I…”

“No Tony... “ You smiled sadly and took a step away from him. “You don’t need me. You need the idea of me. You need a person who would follow your every step, Who would do your job without saying a word. Who would follow you like a lost puppy. A part of me always thought you gave me this job due to my powers, but that it wasn’t it. You just needed someone who would adore you the same way you adore yourself. But I had enough.”

“I thought you love me!” He hissed at you, when you were almost at the corridor. “Was that a lie?” Not able to control yourself you laughed through tears. You turned around, walked towards him and slapped him across the face. 

“Don’t you ever dare to say that! i loved you for so long. I loved you when you brought all those women here. I loved you when you shouted at me and made me feel like I was nothing. I loved you when you were away to those damn missions. i loved you while I was healing you and I loved you when you pushed your tongue in that blonde’s mouth.” He flinched, remembering the Christmas party. “I loved you despite hurting. I loved you so much that I decided to stay by your side for so long, despite being unwanted. I knew… I knew how absurd those feelings were. I knew someone like you, who has everything, would never fall in love with me. And you made that completely clear at the party. You gave a little hope, and then crushed it. But not anymore Tony. I have had enough and before it escalates I need to leave.”

“You won’t get any opinion from me. You won’t get a job anywhere in the industry” He shouted. He hated himself when those words left his lips. He hated the look you gave him. He wanted to apologize and say that this was bullshit. He wanted you to stay. But he knew, there was no way. No way for you to forgive him. Not anymore. 

“Yeah. Thanks, Mr Stark. It was a pleasure to work for you!”

***

He watched you smile at the kid, who giggled at your adorable, funny face. She was crying and you did everything you could to stop her from crying, while her mom went to the bathroom. He didn’t know how good you were with kids. He never seen you with any. He watched you give her a chocolate cookie, which had probably brighten her day. And he watched when you smiled at the woman, who was probably thanking you for taking care of the little girl. 

He looked at the place and sighed. This was not something you dreamed of. It was an MIT nor a technological industry. When you left for real, leaving him with a three page long email with names of the best PAs in the country, he called every big business, including MIT, giving them the best references he could give. His heart broken even more, when the MIT’s HR called and told him that you have declined their job offer. You hated him and he hated himself. 

He knew Natasha talked to you from time to time. Clint and Steve came here for your coffee and “The best apple pie’ in Boston. They took that extra way to see you at least once in three months. Bruce send you emails regarding some new tech Avengers were using and you answered him with possible ideas of how to make them better. 

You still loved that world. He could see it and hear how you missed that and the Avengers. he was able to see through Jarvis’ system, that you connected to talk to him. You kept in touch with everyone, even a stupid AI, and not him. You left the next day. Your bags were gone, room cleaned up and only an email waiting for him. 

Mr Stark.

According to our contract I should be giving you a two weeks notice of my leaving, however, due to my unused vacation days, I am taking them and I quit immediately from today. As I promised, you can find attached the list of the best PA in this country. I made you all of your business had been taken care of. 

I would greatly appreciate if you didn’t try to get in touch with me in any ways. I am planning on starting a new life. I hope our paths won’t have to cross in the future and....

I wish you well, Tony. I really do. When I think about it, it was me who was an idiot. It was me who fallen in love with someone who could only love himself. I was the idiot one. So yes. I do wish you all the best Tony. 

Love, 

Lex

He hated and loved this email. It was the last thing from you. He didn’t contact you, didn’t try to find you. You deserved it. After everything he’s done for you, you deserved freedom from him. Away from his selfish ass. 

He was able to keep that promise for two years. Two years of his teammates talking about your new coffee place, your new flat in Boston and a boyfriend you broke up with two months ago. They tried to stay quiet when he walked in but he was still able to hear them. They loved and cared about you. And who was he to neglect that. 

But two years were enough. He had enough and he decided to be selfish this one time. One more time. Come here see you and if you give him a chance, apologise. 

“Iron Man!” He froze hearing a boy shouting from the inside of the coffee place. He noticed your frozen figure and he wanted to run away. He was actually very close in just walking away, when you turned around and he felt his heart stopping. You became so beautiful. You have lost some weight, your hair gotten longer at those eyes. Those beautiful eyes were still so mesmerizing. “Mommy, It’s Tony Stark!” 

You watched with disbelief at the man outside of your coffee place. You followed his every move, when he walked in, and smiled at the boy, taking some pictures with him and signing his cap. You scanned him and something you hoped died a long time ago, came back to life. The butterflies were back. You closed your eyes and turned around, pretending like you were focused on cleaning the coffee machine. Anything not to look at him. not to focus on those beautiful face, and charming smile. 

“Lex”, you flinched at his quiet, almost scared whisper. He walked closer and you were afraid to turn around. ���Ma’am can i order?” You rolled your eyes. You couldn’t just say no. It was possible that it was a coincidence. Maybe he came here for business and… No! It was Tony Stark, nothing was just ‘lucky’ for him. 

“Of course, sir. What would you like?” You turned around and tried to give him your most natural, customer service smile. 

“How about that chocolate you used to make and 10 minutes of your time.” You bit your lips and took a deep breath. 

“We have three types of chocolate, Sir. What is it you want? White, milk or dark?” 

“Lex, please!” He whispered, his hands travelled to cup yours, but you took a step away from the counter. He closed his eyes and looked around. “Can we please talk when you close? Please?” It wasn’t often that Tony Stark was begging and the mean part, which hated him, was happy to see him in emotional pain. But the part that still loved him felt sorry for him. And so you agreed, telling him you were closing in three hours. He ordered a dark chocolate and an apple pie and sat at the corner of the place, patiently waiting. 

*

“I told you not to contact me!” You hissed, when the last customer left the place. You turned around and gave him your angry look. “One thing I asked of you! Damn it, Stark!”

“Two years… Come on, Lex. It’s been two years I missed you.” He sounded and looked so small. He looked like he wanted to cry and run away as quickly as possible. Like coming here was the biggest mistake of his life. “I… Fuck… Can we sit down?” You crossed your hands on your chest and he sighed. “I never apologised.” You frowned at him and smiled at you. A small, unsure smile. “I never said what I truly wanted to say to you that day. So if you give me ten minutes, I will tell you. 10 minutes and maybe one more of your chocolate?”

“I turned off the machine.” You stated, making him swallow hard at your tone. 

“Sure. Yeah.” He took a deep breath and sat down on one of the stools. “I was the biggest asshole in the Universe, but I was afraid. I was afraid that the only person I truly trusted and loved would leave me. Like my mom did. I was a mess when she died. She was the only one that really knew me, the same as you. But she had to be there for me, she needed to love me, because I was her child. Her only son. You didn’t have to and yet you still did. And it scared me, because I didn’t understand why someone like you would ever love me. So when I heard you went for a job interview I got scared, that I will lose you. Yes I was a selfish prick and if I could turn back time I would, trust me.

“All those things you said to me that day were true. And I just wish you would have told me them sooner, I would have the opportunity to work on myself not to lose you. I wanted to stop you and so out of fear I did something I was only good at. I pushed you away. Even more. When I heard you took down proposition from MIT I knew I fucked up.”

“I felt like I would owe you something and I didn’t want that.” He nodded and hid his face in his his hands. 

“I fucked up big times. The worst thing was not because I tried to hurt you, but because I tried to not feel pain myself. I was selfish. Hell, I am still selfish for coming here.” You raised your brow but let him continue. You heart slowly melting at his words. You never stopped loving him and this all was not making it easier to forget about him. “I know those words mean nothing to you now. But I love you and I miss you. What I wouldn’t give to have you back in my life. Even if only as a friend. I am not afraid to say that I love you. And I need you. And not the idea of you, but you. That selfless, kind hearted woman, with the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. I want and need you. With me in my life, in NY. I know you have your life here in Boston, but… I just want you to know that.”

“It took you hell of a lot of time, Stark.” He looked up and frowned seeing a little smile on your lips. “I guess I lost a bet with Nat.”

“A bet?” 

“Yeah”, you shrugged and chuckled. “I believed you’d forget about me and never come to see me, and well, Nat was sure you’d come to find me in the first three years I was away.” 

“Yeah. She’s scary. I think it’s a Russian thing.” He rolled his eyes dramatically and you chuckled. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“Oh, I hate you, don’t get me wrong!” He opened his mouth to say something, but was smart enough not to. “But I still love you and people say love is stronger than hate.” He was looking at you with those big puppy, brown eyes. “But I want to start over. Be your friend. Get to know Tony Stark, and…”

“And? I will give you anything you want, Lex!” He took a step closer and took your hands in his. This time you didn’t pull away. 

“That place on Brooklyn. There used to be a pancake place, but now it's free and no one bought it. I want it.” He looked at you and chuckled. Pulling you closer, he kissed the top of your head. 

“Sure thing, sweetheart. It’s all yours. So am I.”

[argylemnwrites]

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment - Chapter 19

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Canon Divergent from Book 2, Chapter 15)

Word Count: ~6000

Rating: R (language, as always)

Summary: Drake clears the air with another woman in his family, and Liam comes to some decisions about his future.

Author’s Note: Some computer issues were preventing me from accessing my google doc (my absolute nightmare), so sorry I didn’t quite get this posted on Saturday, but I’m making sure this gets up before the Choices Big Game Blitz fics start dominating my queue. Happy Superbowl Sunday, everyone!

This series diverges from TRR canon, where instead of waiting to discuss his relationship with Riley until their last night in NYC, leaving her a note while Liam is proposing to her, Drake tackles this topic as soon as possible after Tariq makes his statement and Riley’s name is cleared. To catch up on this series, you can find the previous chapters in my masterlist (link is located in my bio).

Drake shuffled through Austin-Bergstrom airport, making his way over to baggage claim. He didn’t know what would be worse - his mother being there and acting like this was in any way normal, or her not being there at all. As he rounded the corner and headed for carousel 4, he saw her there, looking nowhere near as anxious as he felt. When she caught sight of him, she waved frantically and then dashed over to give him a big hug.

“Oh Drake, I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, squeezing him tightly.

Drake returned the hug, but it felt rather awkward, like they were acting out the parts of a mother and son reuniting at the airport. It didn’t feel natural.

“Hey, Mom. Savannah says ‘hi.’”

“Of course she does. Tell her she needs to bring that baby boy of hers out for a visit!”

Drake nodded and followed his mother out to the truck, throwing his luggage in the backseat before climbing into the passenger seat. As his mom backed the truck out of the short term parking spot and headed toward the exit, he tried to figure out whether he should start this conversation now or if it would be better to wait until they were at the ranch. He probably should have tried to come up with some sort of plan for this on his way out here, but it was too late for that now.

“Are you sure you can only stay one night?” Bianca asked once they had gotten onto the freeway, “We haven’t seen you in ages and it would be nice if you could stay for a bit.”

Drake shook his head, “I need to be in New York tomorrow night. Someone’s expecting me.”

“Liam?”

“No,” Drake replied, turning to stare out the window. He did not want to discuss Riley and how up in the air things were in his relationship. He came here for a purpose, and he couldn’t let himself get sidetracked onto another topic. His mother had an uncanny ability to redirect the conversation.

“Well, regardless of how long you’ll be here, this is a lovely surprise,” she said, clearly looking to keep things light and friendly. Drake cringed slightly, knowing he planned to take things in a very different direction. He took a deep breath before he started. It was now or never.

“Mom, I… well I actually came to Texas because I kind of need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay. What is it?”

“Well, it’s kind of a lot of things, actually.”

“Drake, are you in some sort of legal trouble?”

“No! Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, sweetie. You’re just being very cagey and I don’t understand what else would have you so jumpy and flying in on a whim.”

“This isn’t exactly a whim, Mom. I’ve thought about coming to talk to you about this for a long time now.”

“Okaaaayyy…” she responded, turning her head briefly to look at him as she dragged out the word, then snapping her eyes back to the road ahead. 

Drake tilted his head back slightly and closed his eyes, hoping that would make getting the words out a little easier, “I’ve been carrying this around with me for a long time. Trying to figure out how to say it without being an asshole to you. But I think it’s just gotten to the point where I need to tell you. There’s not a good way, really.

“When you left Cordonia, when you left Sav and me in Cordonia, well… you hurt me. And I’ve been carrying around that hurt for almost half my life now. And I can’t keep doing it anymore. It’s not healthy and I just need to get it off my chest.”

“Oh, Drake,” his mother replied, “I’m so sorry. I thought I was doing right by you and Savannah, leaving you with Liam and your friends. You seemed so happy there, I didn’t want to uproot your lives any more than they already had been by your father’s death.”

Drake ran his hand over his face. He had kind of expected this - some superficial justifications and a light apology. But that was like slapping a bandage on a gunshot wound - it wasn’t actually going to help anyone. If they left it at that, he would leave Texas tomorrow the same as if he had not come at all. He had to keep going, even if it meant that he destroyed any semblance of a relationship he had with his mother.

“Okay, but we were just kids. For Christ’s sake, Savannah was only 12 when you moved out. We had just lost our father and then less than a year later we lost our mother too, by her choice. It’s bullshit that you even attempt to justify this, Mom. And you know it.”

She didn’t say anything, but he heard her flip her blinker on, getting off the highway at the next exit and pulling into a gas station parking lot, turning off the truck before she spoke.

“Drake, I’m sorry,” she bit out, her voice cracking, “But I was in no shape to be a mother. I was mourning and I had no support system. I needed my sister.”

Drake shook his head, “Sorry Mom, but that’s just too damn bad. When you’re a parent you can’t just fuck off because things are tough. You were mourning? Well, what about me and Sav? We were mourning, too. You might have needed Aunt Lee, but we needed our mother.”

His mother was crying in earnest now, but Drake felt like he couldn’t stop talking, that all this old pain was just flooding out of him, “Tough shit that you were in pain. Your kids were hurting just as much. What kind of mother just leaves her children behind? How could you do that to us? Didn’t you miss your kids at all?

“I was 15, Mom. Fifteen years old and I suddenly had to figure out how to not only grow up and face the world all on my own, but I had to help Savannah, too. And you know what? It fucked me up. It made me wonder what was so wrong with me that my own mother couldn’t stand to raise me. It made me scared to get close to women, wondering if they were going to leave me too. It broke my trust and made me cynical.

“And I’ve let this shit sit inside of me for too damn long. I let myself grow bitter and cynical and jaded, all before I turned 30. And I just needed to talk to you, to actually talk to you. Not gloss over our family’s messy past because that’s easier, but actually let you know what I thought, because otherwise this resentment is just going to keep growing and growing.”

Drake took a deep breath, trying to gain some semblance of control over this situation. He hadn’t meant to just dump years worth of pain onto his mother on the drive to the ranch, but in some ways, it was probably best that he had just kept talking. He didn’t exactly give himself a chance to back down or close himself off.

His mother wasn’t saying anything, just sitting there with her hands covering her eyes. Drake opened the glove box and found her some tissues, passing the packet to her. She grabbed them, swiping under both of her eyes before she spoke.

“Well, if you’ve said what you needed to say, I can drive you back to the airport. No reason for you to even stay tonight, it sounds like.”

“That isn’t everything I need to say, Mom. I didn’t fly out here just to hurt you. I just… I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about my life. About what I want. About how to let myself be happy. And I think I realized that I need to move forward in a lot of areas. I’ve been stuck in a rut for a very long time, and it’s time to let myself change. So, I need to stop letting my past define my relationships. I need to stop letting my fear of abandonment drive my actions. And that means I need to make some changes to my relationship with you.”

“What kind of changes?” his mother asked, still sniffling slightly.

Drake shrugged, trying to gauge how to phrase it, “I don’t know yet. I mean, I know I just told you how much pain you’ve caused me, but I still love you, Mom. I just… if we decide we want to be a part of each other’s lives, I can’t keep doing it like this, getting one phone call from you a year on my birthday. I can’t have my mom acting like a distant great aunt or something.”

She shook her head, “I didn’t call because I felt so guilty. Talking to you was just a reminder of my failures as a mother. I assumed you saw it the same way and wanted nothing to do with me. I didn’t want to put pressure on you.”

“Well, you’re right. A handful of phone calls aren’t going to erase the past or anything. But I don’t know how things here get any better if we both just keep doing what we’re doing.”

“I want to be a part of your life, Drake,” she insisted, reaching over and grabbing his hand, “I really do want to know you and Savannah as adults.”

“This has to go both ways, then. A two way street, okay?”

His mother nodded emphatically, “You’re right. I’ll book a flight out to Cordonia soon, okay?”

“About that…” Drake said, “I, uh… I kind of moved.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Er, I sort of live in New York City now.”

“Maybe I’m just missing something here, but how do you ‘sort of’ live anywhere?”

Drake sighed. Apparently, he was going to have to get into this, at least a bit. “Well, I kind of met someone, and I moved to New York to be with her, but things are kind of rocky between us at the moment and the move is pretty recent. I’m not exactly sure it’s gonna stick.”

 She nodded slowly, staring off to the side as if she was searching for more information to make better sense of Drake’s ramblings. “So might you be heading back to Cordonia soon?”

Drake just shook his head, “Nah, not right away at least. Like I said, I gotta make some changes in my life. I don’t know that I’ll stay in New York if things don’t work out there, but I probably won’t head straight back to Cordonia. Too easy to slide back into my old habits there.”

“New York’s your first choice, though?”

“I mean, she’s my first choice, and she’s in New York, so yeah,” he replied with a shrug.

“Okay.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

His mother gave him a watery smile, “It sounds like you’re working through some things right now. Believe it or not, I very much get that feeling. Given everything you’ve told me today, I think I’m mainly just glad you even shared that much with me.”

He let her words sink in for a little bit. He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like a peace offering. Like his mother was trying to express interest in whatever part of himself he was willing to share at this point. He wasn’t naive enough to think that suddenly he would have the world’s most loving, attentive mother after today. He knew there was a high probability that they would end up drifting apart going forward. But that was okay. At least he’d put himself out there, shared his fears knowing full well that it might not make anything better. He’d held onto those fears, kept them far too buried for way too long.

“Well… I will let you know where I end up, okay?”

“I’d like that. Now, how about we get heading back to the ranch? I’ve got some chili in the slow cooker for you.”

“That sounds nice, Mom. Are you okay to drive?” he asked, gesturing to her red eyes and tear streaked cheeks. She just smiled and nodded, turning the key in the ignition and pulling the truck back onto the road.

“Oh, Leona’s head is going to explode when she hears you’re moving to one of the biggest cities on the planet,” she said after a few minutes of driving, the thought clearly just popping into her head. Drake laughed, picturing his surly aunt’s reaction. It was the first time he could remember laughing with his mother since before his father died. And while he knew their relationship was still an absolute mess, well at least there was one more good moment between the two of them now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Madeleine rolled her shoulders back and took a steadying breath before knocking on the door to Liam’s office. She just had a terrible feeling about this meeting he’d requested with her. The only topic she could envision him wanting to discuss with her was their wedding, and the tone he’d used did not imply a routine planning discussion.

She wasn’t an idiot. She knew she wasn’t his first choice as a wife. She probably wasn’t even his second choice if the amount of time he was spending with Olivia was any indication of who he actually liked to involve in his life. But she’d tried to be there for him. She’d learned from Leo that forcing things with Constantine’s sons got you nowhere. She’d let him carry on with Riley Liu. She’d been at his side through all the terrorist attacks and his father’s death, through calls for abdication and threats on both of their lives. For God’s sake, she’d taken a bullet for him. She’d hoped she’d be able to prove her worth as a political ally. But if the sinking feeling she’d had in her stomach was any indication, all she had done had not been enough.

“Come in,” Liam called out, his voice muffled by the door. She strode through with poise and purpose. She was not going down as some timid waif of a woman. She would face him with dignity.

Liam was not at his desk, but instead on one of the couches. They had never had a meeting that wasn’t at his desk, and the change in the setting unnerved Madeleine. But she wasn’t going to let him see that, not now. “Good evening, Liam,” she said, careful to keep her voice even and steady.

“Good evening, Madeleine. Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the opposite couch. She walked over and delicately sat down, crossing her ankles as she did so. She knew how to comport herself, not that such behavior was going to get her anywhere.

“Would you like something to drink?” Liam asked, running his index finger along the top of his own glass of whiskey.

“That depends, Liam. Am I going to need something to drink?”

He paused for just a moment, “I would venture to say yes.”

Madeleine nodded tersely, trying to take deep breaths without being too obvious. It was one thing to suspect your engagement was getting called off, it was another to have it confirmed. She had already been through this once before, but it still stung. “Vodka,” she said after a moment, after she was sure her voice wouldn’t crack.

Liam stood and walked over to a sideboard, crouching down and pulling out a bottle of Belvedere. “Any mixers or ice?”

“No, thank you,” she replied, accepting the liquor with a nod as Liam handed it to her before returning to his seat.

“Shall we get this over with?” Madeleine asked.

“Madeleine, please. I at least want to discuss this with you.”

“What’s to discuss, Liam? I don’t see the point in dragging this out. I’ve been through this before, remember?”

“I would like to talk this through at least. I want you to understand where I’m coming from.”

Madeleine let out a little laugh, “I don’t particularly need to understand your reasons, Liam. Quite frankly, you purging your soul and looking for absolution is not going to make me feel better. It’s just selfish.”

He actually smiled slightly at that comment, just for a brief second, before he let his calm, diplomatic expression return to his face. It infuriated her all the more, that her pain and frustration was apparently a source of amusement for him.

“It’s interesting that you would use that phrasing,” he said after a moment, staring at the whiskey in his glass. “Madeleine, I just have to ask, why do you even want to marry me?” He turned his eyes up to meet hers at the end of his question, almost as if he thought he was about to witness some moment of revelation. It was insulting, quite frankly.

“No. You do not get to twist my words to make me sound like a crown chaser. I have been preparing to be queen my entire life. I am qualified in every way for this job. You would never fault a man for going after his professional dreams.”

Liam tilted his head back and forth, looking at her intently, “I might if he pursued them at the expense of all other realms of his life. Madeleine, do you really think being queen would bring you enough happiness to compensate for the extreme misery it would bring you in your personal life?”

Madeleine shook her head, letting out a frustrated snort. Everyone saw the ways that Leo and Liam were different, but right now, they’d never seemed more similar to her. They both had wanted her to be the one to end things. Leo had just ghosted her repeatedly, and when he did come around, there was always a new woman to throw in her face. Liam at least was more subtle, clearly trying to convince her that this was her idea. It was still infuriating in its own right, though.

“Liam, if you aren’t going to marry me, at least have the courage to call off our engagement yourself. You don’t get to dump me and have me do all the work for you.”

“Madeleine, this isn’t a decision I made lightly or on a whim. All I am trying to do is minimize the pain and discomfort here for all parties involved.”

“Well, that’s just too bad, Liam. You don’t get to break up with someone without hurting them.”

He sighed heavily, “Fair enough. I just hoped you might be able to see the positive aspects here. That you might be able to find a silver lining.”

“How could having my dreams ripped from me yet again be a positive, Liam? Explain that one to me, please,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Well, you won’t be trapped in a loveless marriage and forced to raise children with a man you’re indifferent to at best,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders slightly, “That seems like it could be worth something.”

“Liam, be realistic. I will never marry for love. Any marriage for me will be a political one. You at least would have been a tolerable husband.”

“Why can’t you marry for love?”

“Be serious.”

“I am. I don’t see why you act like this is some impossibility.”

She just shook her head, “How are you still such a romantic? The woman you love chose your best friend over you.”

Liam raised his eyebrows at that comment, “Careful, Madeleine. There is little reason for either of us to resort to petty personal attacks here. But suffice it to say, that while Riley’s rejection was painful, it did not change my belief that there is love to be found out there, and I mean love for all of us.”

“Well, that’s not been my experience. And quite frankly, I don’t see how it’s been yours either.”

“Just because I am not currently in a loving relationship doesn’t mean that I don’t see a world full of potential for love and connection.”

She shook her head and let out a short little breath, “For a highly educated king, you are so naive. Nearly foolish.”

“And you have a very stubborn and narrow worldview. If someone hasn’t found love in the world, that’s either because they are blind to it or they reject it anytime it’s offered and push it away before it has a chance to grow. I think we both know in your case it’s the latter.”

“Awful presumptuous of you, assuming that anyone has even been open to loving me.”

Liam stared straight at her, the disbelief evident in his eyes, “Do Penelope and Kiara not count?”

“What? They aren’t attracted to women,” Madeleine retorted, waving her hand dismissively.

His eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up at that, “I can’t speak to their sexual orientation, nor was I trying to, Madeleine. Love can be platonic, you know. You might have found that with Kiara or Penelope if you hadn’t berated them at every opportunity. Instead, they both chose to return to their homes. Or Hana, who has never been anything but kind and compassionate, could have been a true friend to you just as she has to so many others. Gentle Hana, who decided she couldn’t live under the same roof as you, would have been your friend if you hadn’t constantly cut her down and aimed to hurt her.

“I know your parents were never some source of unconditional familial love. Believe me, Madeleine, I can comprehend that. But it is your choice to continue to be harsh and compassionless with all your peers. If you can’t see that, I don’t know what to tell you.

“I am sorry that you have to go through a failed engagement for a second time, Madeleine. I truly am. But that isn’t enough of a reason to marry you. And I honestly believe this is the best chance at happiness for the both of us.”

“No, Liam. It’s the best chance at happiness for you. At least own that fact.”

After a few seconds of silence, Liam finally spoke, “You’re right, this is something I am doing for myself. But I hope that someday you’ll see that this opens up the potential for you to find something better as well.”

“Why now?” Madeleine asked, tapping her fingers against her untouched glass of vodka, “Why lead me on for months?”

“I probably never should have gotten engaged to you in the first place. I did so in a moment of desperation where I saw no other options for either of us. If you want to hold something against me, that is what it should be. But I am not going to let that lapse in judgement determine the course of the rest of my life. I do not want to be a bitter king who only has a family out of obligation. I want children that are born into a home of love and warmth. I may sacrifice many things for Cordonia, but I’ve decided this is one liberty I’m going to take for myself.

“Now, as far as the more practical matters go, if you want to be the one to announce the end of our engagement, I will happily grant you that opportunity. You can prepare a statement; I would just ask you send it to Stefan for review before you go to the press, but I understand if you prefer to release a statement independently. I can also send you to my private island for a while if you’d like to avoid the press or your parents. I want to allow you time to collect yourself away from external pressures if you desire. Just let me know by this weekend, alright?”

“So that’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“Yes, Madeleine. I honestly think we’re done here. Don’t you?”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” she said as she rose, downing her entire glass of vodka in one, then striding to the door. Once she was on the other side of the door, she pinched her eyes closed, fighting off waves of self-loathing and despair at her repeated failure. It was like Leo all over again, but this time, there was no back up plan. She was left entirely directionless, and now she had to figure out what she was supposed to do with her life now that the only thing she’d been raised to do was no longer possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The trials on Friday had run straight through to the end of the business day, and after all his late night case review, preparing for the press, Liam was exhausted. He was planning to head straight from the courthouse to his private quarters for a few hours of needed decompression, but as he answered a few questions from the press, he noticed Olivia standing over by the town car that was waiting for him, talking with his driver.

“Lady Olivia,” he said in greeting, nodding at her politely as he walked over after the press dispersed.

“Your Majesty. I was hoping to run into you. Are you headed back to the palace?”

“That was the plan.”

“May I join you for a bit? I was hoping to discuss if there were any more findings in regards to Anton’s spouse.”

Liam nodded. He did need to talk to Olivia about the investigation that he and Bastien had been privately conducting there. “Of course. Would you like a ride?” he asked, gesturing to his car.

Olivia shook her head, “My car and driver are just around the corner. I’ll meet you there. Do you need me to bring by some cookie dough and wine spritzers?”

Liam shook his head and chuckled. He should have known that Olivia would know that he called off his engagement, even though neither he nor Madeleine had released an official statement yet. “I think I’ll be fine, thanks.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, the glint in her eyes in direct contrast with her overly concerned tone, “Breakups can be tough.”

“Don’t gloat, Olivia,” Liam chided. He wasn’t really upset, but Olivia didn’t need to be so pleased that he and Madeleine were no longer engaged.

“I’m just happy that you aren’t stuck in a miserable political marriage.”

“And…”

“And if Madeleine won’t become queen because of it, all the better.”

Liam couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. It’s not that he reveled in ending things with Madeleine, but it did feel like a significant weight had been lifted from his soul. “Shall we meet in my office?”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you in a few.”

And so Liam went to his office when he returned to the palace. He’d been seated at his desk, reviewing some news sites, when Olivia was let in by Stefan about 10 minutes later.

“Sorry, I would have been here sooner, but I got stuck waiting for the royal motorcade. A real pain in the ass, I tell you.”

Liam chuckled at her statement, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. Olivia sank into one, leaning back and looking him in the eye before she spoke.

“Alright, what can you tell me about my supposed marriage to that traitorous vile snake?”

Liam let out a sigh, knowing there was no easy way to break this news. “What kind of wine do you want?”

“That bad, huh?” Olivia asked with a little wince.

He unlocked the middle desk drawer and pulled out the documents he’d set aside for her. “I wish I had better news. Unfortunately, the document your parents signed is legally binding.”

“Motherfuckers,” Olivia breathed out, letting her head drop to the back of her chair. “I was four, Liam. Who the hell marries off a toddler?”

“I’m very sorry, Liv. I have a private lawyer investigating how best to go about getting this annulled given all the clauses and conditions that various House Nevrakis members have put on the books over the centuries.”

“You brought in a private lawyer? Liam, I was kind of hoping-”

“He signed an NDA. However, I think it would be prudent to warn you that Anton might bring it up in trial if he decides to go scorched earth. The prosecutors would never reference it, but I have no idea what he or his lawyer are planning.”

Olivia inhaled deeply before nodding slowly. “I understand. Are you sure we can’t just torture him to keep him quiet?”

“Fairly certain that’s a violation of the UN Human Rights Council guidelines.”

“Even if I make sure it can’t get traced back to you?”

“Yes, even then, Olivia.”

“Damn,” she said with a little laugh, “So, either I release the info myself and undermine my public support in an effort to control the narrative, or I take a gamble that he won’t bring it up?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Those really are your only choices. No matter what you choose, though, you will have the Crown’s full support.”

Olivia tapped her fingernails against the desk’s surface, eyes roving over her marriage certificate. “I’ll release it Monday,” she said after a few moments, raising her head to look Liam in the eye. “It’s the opposite of what our fathers would have done, so that probably makes it the right call.”

Liam tilted his head at that, “Have your staff send Stefan your statement this weekend, and we’ll craft an official royal press release to match.”

“Thanks, Liam.”

“Of course, Olivia.”

“No, I mean it. I’m sure that you’re already being stretched thin between the trials, and I’m guessing you’re getting some pushback for calling off your engagement, so thank you for looking into this for me.”

Liam nodded. She wasn’t wrong. It hadn’t even been 24 hours since he called off his engagement, and he’d already been chided by several council members. Regina had also had some choice words for him after he blocked a meeting with Godfrey.

“How pissed are people that you aren’t getting married?”

“I think they’re more upset that they can’t technically do anything about it. The law clearly states a monarch needs to be either married or engaged to ascend the throne; it makes no reference to his or her marital state once they are the reigning monarch.”

“So, what’s your next move?”

“Nothing,” he said with a little shrug, “Like I said, they can’t really do anything about it. Thanks to you, public opinion of me is quite high at the moment, so it's not like they can apply pressure that way either.”

“Nice,” she replied, nodding and cocking an eyebrow, “What are you going to do about an heir?”

Liam just shook his head, “I’m not even 30 yet. I feel like I have some time.”

“I agree, but others won’t. You’re going to have to have a statement prepared for when they start hounding you about it.”

He paused for a second, organizing his words, “Well, then I’ll just tell them that succession laws are clear, and that I am perfectly comfortable leaving Cordonia in the hands of the woman who is next in line for the throne.”

Olivia’s eyes widened before fluttering closed. She pressed her lips together and took several slow breaths before she opened her eyes, a slight glimmer noticeable in the corners. “Thank you, Liam,” she whispered.

“It’s the truth, Olivia. You care about this country and its people. If something were, god forbid, to happen to me, I would have no qualms about you becoming queen.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything. How about we just have that glass of wine?”

 Olivia just shook her head, “I wish I could, but I actually have… well, I have a date.”

Liam smiled gently, “Oh, well then it sounds like you have much better plans than me for the evening. I’ll let you get heading back to Lythikos.”

“The date’s here, actually.”

“Really?” Liam asked, his curiosity mounting by the second, “Who’s the man in question, and does he know what he’s getting himself into?”

“None of your business and of course not,” she replied, giving him a genuine smile as she stood up. “I’ll see you at the courthouse Monday?”

“Of course, Olivia. Have a wonderful evening.”

She smiled and walked out of the office, throwing up her hand in farewell as she closed the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drake shifted in his seat. He could blame it on the cramped airline rows, but he knew it was more his nerves than anything. He was an absolute mess at this point.

For the second time in as many days, he was on a flight towards a woman he wasn’t even sure wanted to see him. But unlike when he went to see his mother, he was actually terrified of that fact. If his mother had been cold or hadn’t wanted to see him, he knew how to deal with that fact. He’d been through it before, and though he hadn’t come out without some emotional scars, he fucking got through it.

But Riley… well the thought that she might not want to talk to him shook him to his core. He honestly didn’t know what he would do if she told him to fuck off, that she needed a boyfriend who could actually handle her life or one that didn’t have a best friend with very specific emotional demands. It was honestly part of the reason he went to talk to his mother first - he was more scared of his talk with Riley. The stakes were just so much higher. He knew that made him a coward. But when he’d been booking his tickets, he just wanted one more day where he could pretend that Riley and him were going to be alright.

Part of him also knew that if Riley left him, he was likely to spiral a bit. Get drunk, self-destruct, throw himself a goddamn pity party. He knew he needed to talk with both Riley and his mother, but with how long he’d put off his conversation with his mother, he just knew he would never get around to it after a rejection from Riley. He wouldn’t have seen the point. It just had to happen first.

But now it was time to face the music with Riley. No more beating around the apple tree. She knew when his flight was landing at JFK, he’d sent her the flight details before he left Cordonia, and she’d texted back “okay.” Drake didn’t know if that meant she would be there or not.

If she wasn’t there, Drake wasn’t sure what his plan was. He was pretty sure she would be off this weekend, but just barging into her apartment felt presumptuous, even if he did still have a set of keys. Maybe he would just call her? See if she wanted to meet him somewhere?

But when he exited the plane and made his way towards baggage claim, he saw her there, standing off to the side, her arms crossed over her chest. He started walking toward her, his legs suddenly feeling heavy as lead. At some point, she caught sight of him, but she made no move toward him, just offering up a little nod. He raised his hand and waved, feeling like a giant dork in the process, but he didn’t know what else to do. And he made it those last painful meters, he tried to figure out what to say. But then he was in front of her and all he could do was stare at her. She was so beautiful, and nothing he could say felt like it would be enough.

Riley wasn’t saying anything either, and neither one of them made a move to touch each other. The tension was nearly palpable, and all Drake knew was that he had to break it somehow.

“Hey, Liu,” he choked out.

“Hi, Drake.”

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[spac3bar7end3r]

In Which Gabriel Decided To Eat Something

Ineffable Bureaucracy / Post Armageddont / Getting together / 1447 words

prompt: “I could really eat something.”

read on Ao3

           “I could really eat something,” Gabriel said, and Beelzebub had to do a double-take. They can’t believe their ears. Hungry? Gabriel? After all this time?

           “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Gabriel reached the pepper shaker on the table and played with it like an easily-distracted human child (Not like Beelzebub knew how human child behaves. They’d never met one).

           “You want to eat human food?” Beelzebub asked. They turned their head and signalled the waitress to come to their table.

           “Well, I want to try.” Gabriel’s voice got higher than usual. Even he himself doesn’t look sure if he wanted to eat or not.

           “Sure, whatever. What do you want? I’m gonna take two breakfast sets, one strawberry milkshake and make it really sweet.” The prince of hell turned to order like it was something they are pretty used to and it was. Crowley and the other goonies didn’t know this, but Beelzebub always sneaked out and came to the human world when they were bored.

           “I…will have what you have.”

           “Two more of the breakfast sets?” The waitress asked. Beelzebub appreciated her nonchalant expression, or let’s say this human might experience a lot of weird occurrences that she didn’t think it was strange for a tiny being like Beel to order two large sets of an English breakfast.

           Gabriel didn’t know whether he should confirm or not because he’d never eaten human’s ‘gross matter’ before, so Beelzebub said instead, “One set for him, plus coke.”

The waitress nodded before she walked away.

           “Coke.” Gabriel perked up, tilting his head a little bit then added, “Like cocaine?”

           “Calm down, you uncultured swine. It’s a fizzy drink.”

“It’s a drink that is fuzzy. It’s very disgusting. You’ll love it.” Beelzebub shrugged. 

           “It is ours or yours?”

           “Crowley’s.” They didn’t even want to take credit for it because they thought it was the fizzy drink was stupid and should be heaven’s creation instead of hell. What a dumb drink.

That’s why it’s perfect for Gabriel.

           “Ah. That bastard.” Gabriel nodded.

           “Yeah, speaking of that bastard, he and your angel are moving to some human village, I think.”

           “Aziraphale is not my angel.”

Beelzebub waited for the ‘Not any more’ phase to come, but it didn’t.

             Plates of Full English Breakfast came. Gabriel instantly frowned when he noticed the food. He picked up a fork and poked a piece of black pudding like it offended in somehow.

           “What’s this?”

           “Black pudding—look, do you really want to eat human food?” Beelzebub asked, still not believe what was happening. They pulled two plates in front of them and began to eat like they were starving (and in fact, they were. Hell didn’t have food and Beelzebub secretly loved devouring human food when they came up here).

Gabriel shrugged. He decided to try eating one. The archangel’s expression looked hilarious that Beel had to stifle a  laugh between each bite.

           “I do want to eat human food. I want to try to see what’s it all about.”

           “Humans are disgusting.” Beelzebub chews. “But their food is the only thing they have done right.”

Gabriel nodded while sipping his coke. He eyed a glass of strawberry milkshake in front of Beelzebub, so the prince of hell pushed it to the angel in front of him. The second Gabriel swallowed the liquid his eyes widened, looking accusingly at Beelzebub.

           “Why didn’t you order this for me instead of this black liquid? This is so great.” Gabriel continued sipping.

           “Hey! That’s mine.”

           “Not anymore.”

           Beelzebub shook their head and reached for Gabriel’s coke instead. Gabriel hummed happily over his milkshake.

           “So the reason why I asked you to meet today is because of this,” Beelzebub snapped their fingers and suddenly there was a stack of paper in front of Gabriel.

           “Hm, what’s this?”

           “An official truce contract,” Beel said then continued, “We don’t want to admit, but that angel Aziraphale was right. We don’t want to fight in a war that we are not so sure why it has to happen in the first place. And from what I see, the human is already doing great destroying the world themselves.”

           Gabriel nodded. One hand holding a paper while the other is holding a toast. His eyes skimmed the word across the paper.

           “Alright, so you suggest we have a truce and do what? Nothing? Are we supposed to hold hands and be friends now?” Gabriel swallowed the word like those times before the fall, but Beelzebub didn’t need to know that.

           “Maybe. Look, we can be civil. Look at us now, we’re having breakfast together.”

           “That’s because it’s you and me. Can you see any angel having meals with a demon?”

           “Crowley and Aziraphale?” Beelzebub raised an eyebrow.

           “Oh, right.” Gabriel nodded slowly. “But our jobs cancel each other out? How can we are at peace when we know that you guys are trying to bring the human to your side.”

           “Read the papers. We’re concluding that in the future there might not be only your side or our side.”

           Gabriel skimmed the text again, asking, “Human side? We’re going to fight them?”

           “We’re not so sure yet.” Beelzebub sighed, “I didn’t think I’m going to be good with all the angels either. After all, you guys were the one who kicked us out.”

           “I didn’t,” Gabriel said, recalling the past.

           “Yeah yeah, but that doesn’t mean you were not on their side. You were the archangel for satan’s sake.” Beelzebub pushed the empty plate on the side and began to eat the other one.

           “So what do we do?”

           “Truce?” The prince of hell pointed at the contract.

           “Truce.”

  *

             So Instead of going to chase after that angel and demon couple or making angels fighting a war with demons, the archangel and the prince of hell just kept having meals together. The second time was another breakfast at the same diner, the third was a Korean barbeque downtown, the fourth was at a Japanese restaurant (where Gabriel refused to try sushi because ‘it looks fucking gross’).

           The third time they met Gabriel brought back an official truce contact with his signature. So all the demons and angels have stopped going at each other throat when they saw each other. Some still did their job as usual but most of the time, the human was doing fine themselves, whether to be good or bad. Heaven and hell didn’t even need to lift a finger.

What surprised them the most was the fact that several angel-demon couples were increasing A LOT. It seemed like all these 6000 years, Crowley and Aziraphale were not the only heaven and hell agents that ‘work together’. They were just better at hiding it than these two.

           “Do you think the Almighty know about this?” Gabriel asked the sixth time that they met.

           “I guess. Does that mean we’ve worked for nothing for so long?” Beelzebub frowned, thinking of all the time they’ve been giving orders and reading reports, falsified reports.

           “It’s not nothing. I know you had a lot of fun fooling human in the eighties.”

           “I did. That was fun.” Beelzebub grinned. Today they were at a small restaurant in London. Gabriel ordered a blueberry pancake (who would have thought that the archangel had a sweet tooth.) and Beelzebub ordered spaghetti and meatballs. The waitress rolled their eyes when she said pasta is not for breakfast, so Beelzebub secretly played a small mind-trick on her when she walked back to the kitchen. Gabriel noticed but didn’t say anything.

           “I wish I know it before though that there are others out there who do…this.” Gabriel pointed to himself then at Beelzebub.

           “Do what?”

           “Like, being together. I was looking for a way to talk to you. I even suggesting human food!”

           “I thought you like eating.” Beelzebub’s eyebrows raised.

           “Well, at first I pretended to like it but then it was growing on me. I hated it before. I heard that human do this kind of thing when they want to be together with someone.”

           “And you want to be with me?” Beelzebub tilted their head.

           “Of course, idiot. Why would you think I’m taking an interest in a gross matter in the first place? I want to hang out with you.”

           Beelzebub slowly nodded.

           “You don’t want that?” You don’t want me? was implied. Two lilac eyes staring at Beelzebub expectedly.

           The prince of hell rolled their eyes, answering, “Who do you think suggesting a truce in the first place, you dimwit. I’ve always wanted to be with you.” Even before I fell was implied, but Gabriel didn’t need to know that. Not yet.

[peepee-magee]

Reverse Au cuz God has forbidden me from sleep

I see a lot of reverse au stuff for the good omens fandom and it's all fantastic, but I can't get into most of them which sucks so I decided at this 3 am sleepless juncture to blurt my version of this AU because I have nothing else better to do.

In my head the ideal AU with the universes two most favorite dorks is one where Angel Crowley runs a flower shop/nursery, and is unabashedly loving of everything in the shop. He heals up plants who gets spots, he is unendingly forgiving of their short comings, and keeps the lesser plants for his personal garden in the hopes one day they'll be as magnificent as their siblings who he sells only to those who he knows know what their doing; unable to bare the idea of the wrong hands killing them.

As I see it canon Crowley has plants as a way to vent, and unleash millennia of pain and frustration which Angel Crowley wouldn't have much need for. In my AU Angel Crowely is, yes, frustrated from time to time with his lot but can't bring himself to let it out on his plants. They try to hard to be their best for him, and when he's really upset they even go so far as to produce new blooms just to cheer him up.

AU Crowely uses his plants for a similar but opposite reasoning. He uses them to try and heal pains he can't heal on himself or others. Guilt about that big flood rising up? Save a new plant, and try and make it grand. Doubt to the great plan? Well, time to grow a huge, complicated plant so hard to take care of he can think of nothing else. A certain demon he can't help with his suffering? Bring a plant back from the brink of death and cherish it in his pride collection for the rest of time.

Which is where Demon Aziraphale comes in.

In my head Demon Aziraphale would be semi the opposite. He's still hospitable on the surface, but only as a means to an end. He's angry he's fallen, but is unwilling to forgive and even more unwilling to accept things as they've been set. He works very hard while on earth to try and prove almost out of spite he would still make a good angel and it always ends up backfiring on him. He'll do a miracle to try and make someones life better, but accidently ends up making things worse.

(i.e: Miracles someones crashed computer fixed in a coffee shop in a thumb up 'ha, see did something good' only to have it turn out the person with the crashed laptop had been trying to hack everyone in the coffee shop via the shared wifi to steal their bank info.)

Every time he fucks up trying to be good and prove God made a mistake casting him out he feels both immense guilt and rage. Flabbergasted as to why she'd make (originally) an angel who could only do bad in the first place. He hates how comfortable he feels in hell. He hates being praised by his side for his misdeeds because all that are unassigned are normally unintentional. He proposes The Arrangement as a way to dodge having to do purely bad assignments as much as he can, and Crowely leaps at the opportunity at the globe just to try and ease a bit of his obvious frustration. (He said no in Wessex, but after all these centurys what started out as mild sympathy has practically turned the demons personal suffering into his own come on.) He practically clings to earth, and humanity for stability in the times he's not around Crowley to put on an 'all I do is on purpose' facade because despite him being born the worlds very best worst most humans still kind of like him. Love him in fact, because he's outwardly nice, friendly and helpful even when he's being guarded about himself, and his things. He still fucks up, but most humans appreciate his attempts especially when it's obvious he's really trying. Of course it's mostly an act, and long stretches of forced niceness just make him feel even more horrible for having to fake, but he really does give it his all to try and absorb as much of the act as he can in hopes it'll just leak into him and become natural at some point.

He still owns a bookshop and still collects rare tomes as well as his love for food, and it's really the only thing he uses his inherent evil for. ( Steals, bribes, cheats, and gambles his way to his vast collection.) Despite this however he really does cherish his books, and takes great pride in owning each one regardless of how he got them. Especially since he considers each nefarious gain it's own personal story for each book in addition to the stories already on the pages themselves.

They both work on the same street on opposite ends by just before antichrist time. Both know full well of one another, and both chock it up to their sides as 'keeping an eye' even though for YEARS since 1800 Aziraphale's bookshop has seemed to drift closer and closer with each move.

(First excuse to move shop was termites, then a fire hazard, then oh woops looks like there is a plumbing issue, leaks, can't have that with old books around.)

Crowley sees right though his shit by the thrid time he's moved but dosent say shit because he's both amused and curious to see exactly how close the demon can get before one of their sides notices. Only Hell really ever notices enough to care mentioning tho as Heaven trusts Crowley (he's been a very exemplary angel by all the reports he's sent in even tho at least 1/3rd of them are twisted truths, but it dosent hurt he also kisses major ass whenever he has to physically report in) and when Hell questions Aziraphale he just chocks it up to 'circling prey' all ominous like with a creepy smile (he's a vulture afterall) and Hell just kind of shudders and accepts that as an answer cuz all of Aziraphale's fuck ups have proven very well for his record as a demon.

By the time their living on the same street just at opposite ends Crowely finally takes the piss, and walks into Aziraphale's shop like he's any normal customer, and just starts talking him up about books much to Aziraphale's momentary terror because while indeed he's been telling Crowely about his moves he'd stopped saying where he was moving to after the 20th, and momentarily worries Heaven has sent him to intervene, but no. Crowley sees the fear on his face, and takes enough mercy to stop taking the piss long enough to invite me to lunch etc etc.

Basically Crowely is an angel easily attached to this to good, guilt riddled demon and for 6000 years finds little excuses to bump into him just to check up on how he's doing at first, but by Rome and oysters he's in love because he's just utterly enchanted with the demons leap and bound attempts to try and do good despite himself. (He didn't even try to corrupt the emperor he'd been sent to influence for heaven sake! Activly vented for an hour over oysters how he tried so hard to talk him into doing good only for it to backfire, and make things worse.)

While Aziraphale is smittin in the middle of the Reign of Terror when he needs to mircale his seemingly stupid angel out of chains all because he so despretly wanted to try and come see the gardens, and architecture before it was all destroyed, and best yet the angel makes up for the need of rescue by offering to pay for lunch with a face that reads 'what a good deed it was, saving me, right?' How is he suppose to say no to that, what?

Then after that it seems Crowley just dives head first into dangerous situations knowing full well Aziraphale will just jump at the chance to do good even though after 1941 they stop so much stroking the demons ego as they do start stressing him out cuz he is so deep in his feels at this point loosing him even for a bit would crush him, but Crowely at this point can't fucking help himself cuz watching Aziraphale squirm for him has slowly become a slight sadistic delight (as much as an angel can have one anyway) given that when they first met Aziraphale barely paid him the courtesy of their breif conversation. (Seemed aggravated to hear about the sword, and flew off after that with a huff.)

Crowley just can't help but soak up the attention now that he has it. Giddily returning it when ever he can through dates at the ritz or gifts which is as far as he's willing to leap since the first, and last time he kissed the demon on the cheek after a particularly dashing rescue the demon nearly brust into flames and avoided him for 3 decades.

I've been rambling a long time on this, and finally getting tired so I'll stop here pff-

Idk what to do with all this but might write since I can't stop thinking about it with all the other aus floating around.

[elven-child]

Yeah I know this is an unpopular opinion but I've already typed it all yesterday when I was texting a friend so what the hell, I might as well check if someone here agrees with me too. And ofc I mean no disrespect for anyone who has a different opinion.

So anyways yes I'm all for A&C tenderness, I mean I loved all the tender moments in the show, but tender "I love you's" don't really suit them for me. This is something humans say to each other as the biggest confession possible but these two don't really need to do that because! They literally saved each other's lives in each other's bodies and this is the strongest "we're on our side" that there could be. The first "I love you" exchanged between them would probably be a disgusted "Crowley, for Somebody's sake - and I love you as I say it - what the fuck is this" as he finds a copy of some shitty novel that he hates displayed on one of the shelves in the bookshop. Crowley is sipping wine and grinning like a bastard that he is.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a slut for softness. Yes I will always be yelling about how much these two love each other. But it's always been more about what they do for each other and how they change for each other than what conventions they follow and what they say to each other. There are very few moments in the show where they actually say something straightforward like "I can't have you risking your life", most of the times is just one doing something and the other knowing what that means and the first one knowing that the second one knows because that's how they've been dancing around each other for six thousand years. And I can't really imagine them suddenly changing this after the Armageddidn't now that they're free. How I see it, after the Armageddidn't Aziraphale lets himself be even more of a bastard and/or bitch and Crowley becomes a bit less bitter but like. There's no walls tumbling down, not in the human way. Their equivalent of walls tumbling down is Aziraphale leaning in at the Ritz and rambling and gesturing lively and Crowley putting this fond smile on his face, the one that kills me every time.

And as I see it, the south downs isn't some sort of domestic bliss either, again, not in a human way. It's just the same as bookshop drinking and Crowley hanging out at the bookshop more that in his own goddamn flat except every day because now they can do that. It's all about the feeling of comfort and knowing that they only have each other because no other angel or demon or human would understand and it's about 6000 years of choosing each other constantly.

[lady-divine-writes]

Truth (Part 2 of 2)

Summary:

Anxiety causes Crowley to change into his demonic form. But when he can't remember how to change back, Aziraphale helps, fighting truth with truth.

(AO3)

“What time is our reservation again, my dear?” Aziraphale asks from outside Crowley’s locked office door. Aziraphale knows what time their reservation is. It’s 8:30. Crowley has reminded him numerous times, going so far as to leave a plethora of messages around his shop written in midnight black ink on red Post-It paper that not a single soul with working eyes could ignore. They’re stuck to his teapot, his chair, his curio cabinet; they’ve even made their way inside his books so that the few customers he’s had this past week have actually taken it upon themselves to remind him, too, as they paid for their purchases.

All very unnecessary seeing as demon and angel have started living together now.

One would be hard pressed to tell that seeing as Aziraphale’s presence in Crowley’s flat has been limited so far in its representation. But it’s there in subtle ways – a rare book here, a miniature oil painting there, a few tartan items on Crowley’s dresser in the bedroom, a bottle of his favorite spirits in the fridge, a box of biscuits in the cupboard, those sorts of things. The time they don’t spend in Crowley’s flat they spend together in Aziraphale’s bookshop, absolutely surrounded by those crimson Post-Its. So there’s no way Aziraphale could have forgotten.

But it seems Crowley has, making a beeline for his office the second they’d gotten in and locking the door. Aziraphale assumed he wanted to give his plants a decent misting before they went out, though that doesn’t explain his locking the door. But he’s been inside for hours, and Aziraphale can’t seem to get him out.

“Uh … 8:30,” Crowley replies, his voice muffled by the thick door between them. “Why?”

“Well, it’s 7:45 now, so I figure we should get a wiggle on? You know, to wherever it is you’re taking us? Though considering the way you drive, it will likely take us only three-and-a-half seconds to get there. But I would like to, just this once, go to dinner without putting the fear of God into anyone.”

That last comment is bait. Any other time it would succeed in luring his demon out of hiding so Crowley can inform him that he doesn’t put the fear of God into anyone, and that that saying is a side-effect of societal conditioning. Besides, if a life-or-death situation puts the fear of God into someone over the fear of Satan, then that should say a thing or two about God, shouldn’t it?

But Crowley doesn’t rise to the challenge, not even with so much as a huff.

“I’ll just be another moment,” Crowley says. “I’m wrapping up a few things.”

“Okay.” Aziraphale sighs and backs away from the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen having a brandy when you’re ready. Please, don’t take too long.”

Too long? It’s only been 6000 years! That’s not too long, is it? “I won’t, angel.”

Crowley stands by the door, listening to Aziraphale’s footsteps pad off down the hallway. He waits till he can no longer hear them, then sneaks out of his office and heads to the bedroom. He’s not dressed for dinner. Not an inch, but that’s not a concern. He doesn’t own a single outfit he can’t toss on in less than a second.

He’d gone to his office to prepare for tonight, to grab something important – no, something essential. But when he found it, it triggered a minor anxiety attack, which steadily became a major anxiety attack the longer he looked at it.

Now he’s trapped in the midst of a full blown existential crisis on what should be one of the most important nights of their lives.

He hurries through the bedroom and into the bathroom where his ensemble for the evening hangs on the back of the door, waiting for him to put it on. It took him over a week to pick it out - ludicrous since he doesn’t have much in the way of variety in his wardrobe. Black on black with a few articles of dark grey, some trimmed in red - that’s all he owns.

Shocking.

And for a demon about to propose to an angel, a creature of love and kindness and light, that’s pretty pathetic.

Aziraphale deserves beauty, Crowley thinks as he puts on his somber clothes. He deserves rainbows and sunshine and starlight.

Starlight.

Crowley could give him starlight at least … couldn’t he? He gave starlight to the world. He should be able to give it to Aziraphale.

He looks down at his hands, but he can’t bring himself to snap his fingers.

He can’t bring himself to try and fail.

No. He can’t give Aziraphale starlight. Not now. Not as a demon.

As an angel, he could, but as a demon, what can he do?

He can show him affection in the shallow way humans do, by showering him with lavish gifts. That would be easy for him, take no effort whatsoever. But Aziraphale isn’t impressed by those things. $18,000 watches, expensive cars and clothes don’t impress him. Everything Crowley owns has a designer label attached and Aziraphale has never once batted an eye.

He’s been wearing the exact same coat for over a hundred-and-eighty years, for Satan’s sake! His glasses might actually be older!

Even the restaurant Crowley is taking them to tonight – the finest new French restaurant he could find in London, with an exclusive guest list and lines around the corner – won’t likely impress him.

And if the crepes are crap, he’ll write it off completely, even if the flatware is gold-plated.

Aziraphale relishes the things that show Crowley cares, that he listens when he talks, that he pays attention to his tastes: old books, classical music, trips to the museum, food. He’s filled his bookshop with quaint personal touches – cherubs and teacups and snuff boxes collected throughout the centuries. He didn’t hunt them down and buy them in the present, shelling out hundreds upon hundreds of dollars for them. He bought them from the original artists and kept them safe. Some of the keepsakes in his shop are worth thousands; some are worth nothing. But they’re there because he loves them, and that makes them priceless.

Crowley’s flat is cold and impersonal in comparison, the few things he owns priceless in dollar value, but honestly, most of it means nothing to him.

It’s there for show.

He flips the collar of his shirt, changing it from red to tartan in Aziraphale’s own personal pattern. It’s a little thing, but Aziraphale would appreciate that … wouldn’t he?

Is it enough?

Crowley looks at himself in the mirror and grimaces. Yup. There he is, looking exactly the way he always fucking does - like a Goddamned serial killer, except now he has a plucky tartan collar.

“What the bloody fuck am I doing?” he growls at his reflection. “Aziraphale’s an angel! He’s handsome and smart and witty and fun! He inspires humanity to be better! Who am I compared to that? I’ll tell you who I am - I’m a bitter old snake who drives too fast and yells at plants! He deserves better than me!” Crowley shakes his head, sinking further and further with every turn of his cheek into the mire of his own self-hatred. “He doesn’t know what I am. Not really.”

But if Aziraphale did, he wouldn’t turn away. He wouldn’t leave. Crowley knows this. That’s not who Aziraphale is. He would stand beside Crowley to his own destruction. Marriage to Crowley could most definitely destroy him, if for no other reason that it would put a big, red bullseye on his back for every supernatural entity to see, good or evil.

They’ve managed to keep Heaven and Hell off their backs, but how long can that last?

Aziraphale would say forever, but Crowley doesn’t have much in the way of faith.

Crowley has been lying to everyone. He’s been lying to Hell about what he’s been doing, lying to himself that he’s worthy of his angel.

Lying to Aziraphale, which is the biggest sin of them all.

It’s not so much a lie, he assures himself, but an omission. It never came up, so he never told. Is that really the same thing?

He snarls at his face in the mirror.

Fuck! Is he really trying to loophole his way out of this one? To himself?

He chuckles humorlessly. Of course I am. I’m a demon. That’s what I do.

And because he’s so good at it, Aziraphale is lying, too.

Corruption. It’s contagious.

And regardless of the money he’s accumulated, the status he holds, the power he has, that’s all he can give his angel.

Corruption.

“He thinksss that, deep down, I’m a good perssson,” he hisses. “Becaussse he’sss never ssseen true Evil!” A flashback of Satan rising through the asphalt pops into his head as if in response to that remark. He shakes his head. “Not wearing the face of sssomeone he lovesss! He trusssts me too much! He’sss making a missstake! He doesssn’t believe I can be all that bad!” Crowley swallows hard, swallows down the power swelling within him, that’s called to the surface whenever he gets angry. “Well, if he refussses to believe, I’ll ssshow him! He’ll sssee!”

With a snap of his fingers, he transforms. Wings tear his shirt, ripping through it like paper. His skin goes grey, falls from his frame in chunks revealing maggots underneath. His fingernails grow and curve unto themselves, tips piercing his flesh. Muscles bulge unsightly, joints crack. Feathers fall from his wings till they’re skeletal, the graceful arches bending like wire. His face elongates, hollows at the cheeks, his eyes going black and sinking into their sockets.

The next time he dares look at his face, he’s unrecognizable.

He doesn’t change into this form often. He’s too fond of the human façade he’s created for himself. Every time he changes, he fears he won’t be able to go back. But this is him. And if Aziraphale is dead set and determined to convince himself that he’s in love with a demon, then he needs to see Crowley for who he is.

Crowley stares at himself in the mirror, takes a good long look so that he’ll stop forgetting, stop convincing himself he’s something he’s not.

He can only stand it for a second, then he turns away.

Yes, this demon is him, but it’s also not him. Not entirely. Not anymore. And not for a long time. He might hate that this is the real form of the demon Crowley, but he has to give himself credit for the good that he’s done, intentionally or otherwise. The good that he is.

The parts of him that Aziraphale loves, which seems to be all of him, good or bad.

He sighs, ragged breaths issuing from holes in his lungs and filling up his entire chest cavity, ringing through it like the wind howling through a dead wood log. He knows he has to tell Aziraphale, but not now. He can’t do it now. He doesn’t have the strength. He’s already tapping every inch of his energy to get through this proposal.

He doesn’t know how he could land two weights of equal mass on Aziraphale’s shoulders in one night and expect him to stick around.

Of course, he should probably drop this one on him first, but the demon in him consistently convinces him that’s a bad idea.

And the cowardice in his subconscious tends to agree.

“All right,” he says, his voice an octave lower, grinding in his throat as if drug over nails and rocks. “We’re done pitying ourselves for now. Let’s be done with this, and propose to our angel.”

He snaps his fingers again, picturing, as best he can, his human face in his head.

But nothing happens.

That’s not entirely true. He swears he sees a bright white light. It actually stops his heart for a second since he assumes Aziraphale has miracled his way in, but it’s not his angel. A glance around the room proves that he’s still alone.

And he’s still a mess.

He tries again. He snaps his fingers. No white light this time, so that must have been an illusion, but nothing else changes. Only now, the image of his face in his head has begun to fade.

He snaps and snaps until the skin on his fingers starts to peel away, but not a bit of him goes back to normal.

But what is normal? He’s having a difficult time remembering.

“Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit!” he mumbles, going about this a different way and attacking himself instead. He tugs at his wings, digs his nails into his arms, his face, trying to tear through the rotting flesh to the human skin he prays lies underneath.

But it doesn’t.

There’s not an inch of good or healthy or wholesome within him. It’s an illusion. All an illusion. An armor he uses to blend in, deceive. An armor he’s grown to rely on as much as he relies on Aziraphale.

And he doesn’t know how to get it back.

[dasfuzzy]

This thing still exists...?

So...I guess I'll start off by saying that the main reason for this post is because I got the Tumblr app a while back and have periodically gotten the notification that someone has liked my blog (hello, by the way), so this is twofold:

1) Give an update because, y'know, I haven't touched this thing in a long time, so there's a lot to update, and

2) Find out who's been liking my blog and why. So I guess comment, message, note, or whatever the hell people do here and let me know what got you interested in my ramblings.

I guess the three main things I would discuss here were my job, my love life, and my situation in general, so those'll be the primary focus for now. I guess I'll start with my love life just to get that out of the way as it's typically the focal point and most salacious content here (and possibly the most interesting to y'all).

Well, I'm gonna tell you right off the bat that things have changed drastically since I last was here. I will say that if you're expecting me to tell all, you're gonna be disappointed. I know in the past I never really held back on my feelings and about dishing out the truth, but this is a different situation than any in the past. All I'll really say is that since August of 2017 I've been in a committed relationship with someone that I truly love and can see myself being with for the rest of my days. Our relationship hasn't been all sunshine and rainbows, however, mostly due to nagging injuries and surgeries stemming from a work-related injury on her part (she used to be a physical therapy assistant), but I've done everything in my power to accommodate her and make things work. It hasn't been easy and it's taken it's toll on me, but at the end of the day I try to remain optimistic that things will get better with time.

Regarding my job...er, jobs, I've bounced around a bit since I was last here. I think I was still at Dave & Busters, but I was able to leave there to become a preschool/toddler teacher at a highly-accredited daycare center called Bright Horizons. It wasn't the easiest job and with me being who I am (profane and a fan of mature content, a la Game of Thrones, Walking Dead and wrestling) I felt like I was walking on eggshells at times, especially because the director was a bit of a prude, but I really enjoyed it. I was one of only two male teachers in a facility of approximately 30 teachers, so the kids really enjoyed the change of pace. I learned a lot being there, especially since I only had a few early education courses under my belt beforehand and I had some great mentors guiding me along.

Unfortunately, I made the decision to leave after 18 months for a couple of reasons:

1) The landlady finally sold the house, so my mom and I had to move (more on that later), and

2) There was an incident where I might've let slip a bit of profanity on the job. Basically it was nap time and most of the children were sleeping. I was in one of the preschool rooms at the time and at that age, some children just don't want to sleep, so we have to either try to soothe them or at least do what we can to keep them quiet so they don't wake the other children up. So I'm with another, younger teacher sitting with the non-sleepers, one of which was on the autistic spectrum and had an action plan in place that inform us of what we can and cannot do in certain situations that normally wouldn't apply to other children. Anyways, that particular child was not having any of nap/quiet time and decided to start walking around the room. In my frustration, I might've uttered under my breath "what the fuck". A few days later, I get a call from the director and she asks me if I used any profanity while in the classroom. I tell her that I don't recall doing so; she tells me that another teacher informed her that I had and she would need me to type up a formal statement of what I recall from that particular event. I stuck to my guns and said that I honestly don't recall doing so and, after submitting that to her, I was put on an indefinite administrative leave. As much as I loved that job, I took that as a sign that maybe it was time to find another job, something that pays better because I knew I was going to be moving within the next few months.

On the first day of my "leave", I asked friends if they knew of any good-paying jobs that had openings. I was only making $12.40/hr, which is only $.40 over minimum wage, so I was definitely open to suggestions. My best friend told me to apply to where he worked, Fitzgerald Tile, because they were looking for warehouse workers. He said they could start me at $18, so I leapt at the opportunity. I went down that Monday and met the warehouse supervisor to have an interview. I'll give you an almost word-for-word retelling of how that interview went:

Him: "Do you know how to drive a forklift?"

Me: "Yeah."

Him: "Great, you're hired."

Me: "Oh...okay."

Okay, that might be stretching it a bit, but that was more or less how it went. Really, he outlined some of the basic duties, asked if I was able to lift up to 50lbs unassisted, know that I'm expected to work 50 hours a week, then had me fill out the application, mostly for the sake of having it on file. He told me that I would just have to meet with the HR person to finalize the paperwork and discuss pay and my schedule, then I'd be good to go. Here's the thing: I never got to talk to the HR person. Ever. I was waiting for over an hour then told that we could do it another time, so I just went home. I should've noticed how sketchy the whole thing was. I should've picked up on all the red flags, but I didn't. So I go home, call my boss, and tell her that I'm giving my two weeks notice. She obliges and I ask if I could come visit down the road. She says that it would be in the best interest of the children that I stay away so they don't get the wrong idea. Basically I haven't been back there besides one time when I stopped by after hours to catch up with my favorite colleague and mentor, Jen.

Anywho, here I am on November 19th at the asscrack of dawn starting at the tile warehouse. I meet with the warehouse supervisor (I don't fucking remember his name; he's honestly not worth remembering) and he asks if I know how to drive a forklift. Uh...we talked about that when you hired me, but anyways, I say yes. "Great. Hop on, drive around a bit, get a feel for it, then get to work." Um...I dunno about those guys, but when I was at Lowe's where I learned to drive a forklift, we had to be licensed to operate one. Not to mention if they bothered to do a background check, they'd learn that I was fired from there for getting into an accident on a forklift and causing damage to a bay door. But I do as they say; I grab an order sheet ("grab the biggest ones first", they tell me) and get to it. Basically the way they run things is they put the sheets out on a table, everyone grabs one, gathers everything up on a pallet, then drop it in the outgoing delivery area, then do it all again until every order has been filled. I should also mention that I started right as they were moving warehouses to North Reading, so after the orders were pulled, we had to get other pallets ready to ship to the new place. Remember how I said I was never able to talk to the HR person? Well, I was never given a schedule because of that, so I guess it was understood that I would come in at 7 in the morning and work until everyone was done, which typically wasn't until 8 or 9 at night. I adhered to that mindset for maybe a week and a half; after that, I started sneaking out after at least doing my 8 hours a day. One day the supervisor caught me and said that I can't do that again. I didn't give a fuck. Another day he tells me that I'm not working fast enough and need to step it up. Maybe if someone took the time to train me on the other lift that was smaller and had forks that extended, I'd be able to be more efficient, but no; the only machines I could use were the huge lifts that are barely able to maneuver in the narrow fucking aisles and the order picker, which is basically a standing lift with a small tray-sized platform that you could place stuff on and lower it back down. That thing was kinda fun because it had controlls that kinda felt like piloting a mech and it was fast as hell.

Fast forward a few days and a few hours into my shift the supervisor tells me that I'm being let go and he hands me my last check and a pamphlet for unemployment benefits. No reasoning, just that I'm gone. Probably because I was "working too slow" and would leave when I felt like it, but I could give two shits; they never cared about me and I was tired of working under those unreasonable conditions. I manage keep my composure and start heading out, telling the few friends that I made there that I was fired; they wished me well and said I'd move onto something better. No shit. Once I get to my car, I burst out crying, trying to comprehend the gravity of my situation. I text my girlfriend and she asks if I want to come over to her house; I do partly because I needed the emotional support and partly because she was only 5 minutes away and my drive home would've been about 30 minutes. Honestly, I probably could've reported them to OSHA since they were in violation of god knows how many rules and regulations (hell, during the first week at the new warehouse, someone managed to destroy an entire bay: 3 shelves with 4 pallets each, totalling I believe over $6000 worth of product), but I just wanted to wash my hands of that place entirely. Since it was mid December, I decided to just take time to enjoy the holidays before looking for a new job, especially since I had made enough money there to keep myself afloat for about a month.

So, regarding the move, mom and I spent the last few years looking for places nearby for when the time came, but a lot of places were either in undesirable towns, were too expensive (this is Massachusetts; rent prices suck balls), or didn't meet our needs/standards. Ideally we were aiming to find a small house or even duplex to move into since we'd been in a 2-story, 3-bedroom house since January 2001, but we ended up settling for a 2-bedroom apartment in a small complex in Reading. It's been a bit of an adjustment for many reasons, but we've made it work. One of the biggest annoyances is that we don't have any laundry machines in our unit or even our building, so if we have to wash our clothes, we need to bring our stuff to one of the neighboring buildings that has a credit card-opperated laundry room with seven washers and 8 dryers. Kinda obnoxious to have to go through all that trouble and pay to do it, but condidering heat, hot water, and facility maintenance and snow removal are all covered in our rent (which is $1750/month), it's a small price to pay, I suppose.

Once we got all settled into the new place, I started job hunting again. For years I've wanted to do something technical, like be a plumber or maintenance engineer, but it's nigh impossible to find entry-level jobs like that. I somehow managed to find a job posting on Craigslist for a preventative maintenance engineer at a hotel in my old hometown of Woburn (ironically it's across from my old Dave & Busters), put in an application, and about a week later I had the job. Basically what I do is go through the guestrooms and make sure everything is in working order and is clean. I do about 2 rooms a day, repairing things as needed, be it electrical, plumbing, painting, or whatever else. I started back in early February of this year and in April the chief engineer was unceremoniously fired, leaving me as the sole engineer at the hotel. We had outside help come in periodically, but generally speaking I was the one keeping the place together until we hired a new chief this past October. I had to learn how to take care of an outdoor pool and how to take readings on it daily. I had to represent my hotel at engineer trainings normally meant for chiefs. Hell, I was very close to being promoted to chief myself until they found the new guy. But my efforts weren't in vain: our scores from our guest surveys for maintenance and upkeep were always above expectations and everyone at the hotel appreciate and respect what I do there. They raised my pay as high as they could go because of the amount of work I was putting in. My boss even got me two $75 tickets to a Ring of Honor show since he was a wrestling fan like myself. I think it's safe to say that I definitely bounced back from Fitzgerald.

I guess that about wraps things up. It's currently two weeks until Christmas, so I've got that to look forward to. I'd apologize for the lengthy rant, but I think that's par for the course on my blog. Again, if you're new (or even if you're not), feel free to leave a comment, note, message, or whatever and let me know what brought you to my blog or if there's any questions, comments, or suggestions for things that I could discuss. I figure I've been away from this thing for a long time, why not be a bit more active. Anyways, that's all I got for now. Hope y'all are well; take care of yourself!

[gleek-runner]

A tough night (Crowley X Aziraphale)

Note: Sooo that's the first oneshot I wrote, it's a bit sloppy in my opinion and it might have some grammatical errors but I liked it. I put together a bunch of dialogue prompts I found on Tumblr and made this.

Word count: 978

Genre: angst/fluff(?)

Summary: idfkkk😅😂

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It was a cold autumn afternoon in London, it had just stopped raining so the wind was chilly, people were walking around with their umbrellas still open. The streets were slippery and the cars honking non-stop made the atmosphere more intense than it already was.

Crowley was wearing a long black coat and his typical sunglasses despite the fact that it was cloudy afternoon, he was facing down, walking in a fast pace.

Just this morning he got into a big fight with Aziraphale and they ended up breaking up, and he left their apartment without taking his keys so he just wandered around on foot.

"I'm so sorry" he uttered as be bumped against someone, he wasn't thinking straight, he was drunk and even though he could sober up he didn't want to.

He just wanted to forget, and drink again and again and again with no end, he was hurt, heartbroken,  empty and he just wanted to drown in his sorrow.

It seemed like his world has come to an end, he was banished from Hell and was okay with it since he had his boyfriend on his side, but now, now he just wanted to crawl into a ball and disappear. Aziraphale himself told him to get out and never come back, he was certain that this was going to be the end of him.

He sat on a bench for a little while, he looked up to the sky and then down to the ground once again, he kicked some rock angrily "6000 fucking years" mumbled Crowley and clenched his fists so we wouldn't start tearing up "you've cried enough already" he said to himself in a very critical tone and closed his eyes for a bit in an attempt to relax.

He opened them again five or so minutes later when he felt once again the cold raindrops falling, he blinked a couple of times and looked around, shook his head and started walking once again but this time he had a place he wanted to be, a place he had in mind. A special place for him He was still drunk, some would say more than before.

The rain was getting stronger but Crowley was confident, he'd get to where he wanted no matter what, after all it wasn't that far away.

Time passed quickly, he had just arrived at Saints James Park, he was standing in front of the bench he used to sit with Aziraphale, he hoped to see him there, waiting for him , eating a cone of vanilla ice cream or something, but there was no one there.

It was raining.

He was alone.

He sat on the bench , he put his arms around his knees, crawled in a ball and started crying silently and uncomfortably. That was the end he thought. Of course he knew he couldn't die but that wasn't the point.

He cried and cried and cried. He was cold from the rain but he didn't want nor did he have the strength to move so he just sat there.

"Oh dear God" he heard a familiar voice and then felt a hand on his shoulder

"Aziraphale..?" Crowley whipped some tear away and tried to focus "A-a-angel.." he shuttered

"My dear ,you have been drinking, haven't you..?" Aziraphale seemed worried, he sat besides Crowley and he spread his wings so that they could protect both of them from the rain "you are wet to the bone, aren't you freezing?"

"N-no, I mean yes,but w-wait, w-what are you doing here?" Crowley was happy but he couldn't stop crying

"I figured you'd be here..and I've come to apologize, I've said some pretty rough things and I didn't gave you a chance to speak, and I'm sorry about that"

Crowley took a deep breath and looked Aziraphale right into his eyes "it's..it's fine, I'm just scared you know..I feel like I'm not good enough for you, we are totally opposites, and that scares me, you'll leave me, and I'll have no one, I've never been totally alone, from the start of this world we've always had each other and I ju-"

"Baby.." Aziraphale interrupted "Don't be scared, I'm right here" he said and smiled gently as he stared deep into his partners beautiful demon eyes with love

Crowley slowly started to get closer and closer to Aziraphale, and he looked him in the eyes , he still wasn't himself one hundred percent, he seemed lost and Aziraphale noticed

"What's going on?" he asked

Crowley sighed "What if they try to take you away? What if Gabriel comes to talk to you and you know talks you into going back with them.. I can't live without you Angel….I, I, I lονe you more than anything.."

"I feel in love with you for god's sake not them, I wouldn't trade what we have, I would never choose them over you, you have to realise that"  Aziraphale said and kissed him softly on the forehead as they were closing the gap between them

Time passed , it was still raining , but Crowley had dried clothes and he was warm in Aziraphale's hug, the sound of the rain echoed in there ears.

They didn't have to talk to eachother,to feel great at one another's presence.

"How are you feeling Crowley, baby?"

"I'm better , since you're here" he answered and smiled at him

"Well I'm glad, what do you say, let's go back to our apartment shall we? It's past midnight" Aziraphale was stroking his hand through Crowley's hair

"Yeah let's do that, I'm exhausted" Crowley replied and then stretched his arms and yawned.

They stood up.

Crowley learned towards Aziraphale, and kissed him passionately on the lips, like it was their last " I wasn't lying when I said I loved you" he said and gave him a little smirk

"You're back, that's amazing" Aziraphale bubbled as he held hands with Crowley while they were walking home, peacefully.

~The End~

[nicnacsnonsense]

I said yesterday that every single song on the Wicked soundtrack is a Good Omens mood, so today I went song by song, and yep, checks out. (I am going to be skipping three songs -- “I’m Not That Girl (Reprise)”, since as a stand alone song it is not meaningfully different than “I’m Not That Girl”; “Dear Old Shiz” since it’s only intended to transition us from the opening number which takes place at the end of the story back to the beginning; and “Finale” since it is just a reprise/combo of the previous song “For Good” and the next song (in the stories internal chronology) “No One Mourns the Wicked” and does not meaningfully add to either -- and I will be adding in “Wicked Witch of the East” which does not appear on the soundtrack.)

“No One Mourns the Wicked” -- Aziraphale (Glinda) talking to the Archangels (Chorus) about Crowley. “Nothing grows for the wicked/They reap only what they've sown”

“The Wizard and I” -- The general sentiment echoes Aziraphale’s continued faith in God, despite private doubts about Heaven and the Great Plan. “He'll say to me, "I see who you truly are/A girl on whom I can rely!" 

“What is This Feeling” -- Heaven (Glinda) vs. Hell (Elphaba) with the Chorus representing Christianity, on Heaven’s side despite neither ultimately being appreciably better than the other. Alternatively, there’s some solid Ineffable Bureaucracy feels if you’re into that. “There's a strange exhilaration/In such total detestation/It's so pure, so strong!/Though I do admit, it came on fast/Still I do believe that it can last/And I will be loathing, loathing you my whole life long.”

“Something Bad” -- Aziraphale (Elphaba) believing God will stop the Apocalypse. “If something bad is happening to the Animals/Someone's got to tell the Wizard/That's why we have a Wizard/So nothing bad....“

“Dancing Through Life” -- Fiyero’s opening section is very remiscent on Crowley’s policy on working and his efforts to tempt Aziraphale into the Arrangement. In that context, him coming to this philosophy after having been kicked out of schools in the past is a bit... painful. “Dancing through life, no need to tough it/When you can slough it off as I do.”

“Popular” -- This one is a bit harder to place, but I can imagine that if Crowley and Aziraphale had to teach each other how to do their jobs in service of the Arrangement, this is the kind of energy I imagine they’d bring. Alternatively, if you dial down the good-natured intentions and dial up the judgement and condescension, there are shades of Heaven/Hell (Glinda) wanting Aziraphale/Crowley (Elphaba) to be a proper angel/demon. “Don't be offended by my frank analysis/Think of it as personality dialysis”

“I’m Not That Girl” -- Crowley through 6000 years of pining, with the “that girl” he’s losing out to being Heaven. Though the general longing for someone you feel you can never have also has some pretty strong Aziraphale through 6000 years of pining vibes too. “ Ev'ry so often, we long to steal/To the land of what-might-have-been/But that doesn't soften the ache we feel/When reality sets back in “

“One Short Day” -- This is the background music every time during the 6000 years when Aziraphale and Crowley manage to sneak in some time to enjoy each other’s company just for the sake of it. “ And then, just like now, we can say/We're just two friends/Two good friends/Two best friends/Sharing one wonderful/One short day!”

“Defying Gravity” -- The main feel of the song has a lot of Crowley (Elphaba) immediately pre-Fall energy, but the conversation between Elphaba and Glinda in particular is very reminiscent of the bandstand. G:”Elphie, listen to me, just say you're sorry!/You can still be with the wizard/What you've worked and waited for/You can have all you ever wanted.” E:”I know/But I don't want it/No, I can't want it anymore”

“Thank Goodness” -- Aziraphale (Glinda) trying to put on a obedient and faithful attitude while dealing with his doubts about Heaven and his forbidden feelings for Crowley. “ And if that joy, that thrill/Doesn't thrill like you think it will/Still, with this perfect finale/The cheers and the ballyhoo/Who wouldn't be happier?/So I couldn't be happier”

“The Wicked Witch of the East” -- Most of this doesn’t connect much, and very little of it is sung, but this last bit here is absolutely Crowley (Nessa) sitting in the bar after the bookshop fire. “Alone and loveless here/Just the girl in the mirror/Just her and me, Wicked Witch of the East!/We deserve each other”

“A Sentimental Man”/”Wonderful” -- I combined these two because “A Sentimental Man” by itself is really short and doesn’t really tie in, but thematically it goes with “Wonderful” so I think it works with that context. One thing for this one is to keep in mind that in Christianity Gabriel is an Archangel, but he’s generally consider the messenger, which one would think would generally put him at the bottom of that top group, and yet in Good Omens he seems to have worked his way up to de facto leader of Heaven in God’s absence/silence. Making the Archangel Fucking Gabriel feel a lot like the Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Not to mention the general point about labels and history has a lot of Good Omens Heaven and Hell are basically the same thing with different names vibes. “There are precious few at ease/With moral ambiguities/So we act as though they don't exist”

“As Long as You’re Mine” -- Azcrow Saturday night “you can stay at my place” feels. Enough said. “ Say there's no future/For us as a pair/And though I may know/I don't care/Just for this moment/As long as you're mine/Come be how you want to/And see how bright we shine”

“No Good Deed” -- The bookshop fire. The first three-quarters or so of the song is Crowley running into the burning bookshop, desperate to find Aziraphale and being overwhelmed by how absolutely everything has gone completely wrong this week capped now with this, losing the love of his life. The last bit of the song transitions to Aziraphale up in Heaven completely done with all this bullshit and flipping the entire Host off on his way out. “Fiyero, where are you? Already dead or bleeding?/One more disaster I can add to my generous supply?”

“March of the Witch Hunters” -- This is literally just the Witchfinder Army’s theme song. “Go and hunt her/And find her/And kill her/Kill the witch!”

“For Good” -- Aziraphale and Crowley on Sunday morning as they wait for Heaven and Hell to come for them, not knowing if their plan will work or if they’ll ever see each other again. “ Who can say/If I've been changed for the better? I do believe I have been changed for the better/And because I knew you/.../I have been changed/For good.”

And there you have it. Every single song on the Wicked soundtrack is a Good Omens mood, fact checked and proven. Still compiling evidence for the “Stephen Schwartz is a time traveler who did this all on purpose” theory. I’ll keep you posted.