#it’s not even appearance or anything it’s just. the vibes. the spark. the glimmer. whatever you want to call it.

[saccharine-sylphid]

Yk, I was kinda happy that I was going to graduate since I’d finally escape my obsessive crush on V, but then when I went to visit one of the college I got accepted into one of the professors had the exact spark that V has. It’s an endless cycle, isn’t it?

[tangledinmdzs]

Totally don't gotta do this if you don't want to, but any MDZS characters with the best friend reader "secretly" watching over them on a date? They got the whole dumb mustache and all, and surprisingly don't get noticed until the reader makes texts them like "bro eat your food" - "turn around" or something like that? Just a funny idea I had in my head lolol

this is so cute! i really love this and played around with your ideas; hope you enjoy it; i’m also writing for characters, that i haven’t really had the chance to write much for yet.

here’s to your request~

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

Wei Wuxian

if Wei Wuxian had been a little bit more enamored with Lan Wangji, maybe he wouldn’t have noticed it

but c’mon, you’re wearing a whole mustache for god’s sakes

and it wasn’t even like a normal one 

or a decent one (like Nie Mingjue’s)

it was a mustache that you’d see on Mr. Potatohead (Toy Story)

and honestly, even with any disguise Wei Wuxian could tell that it was you in a blink of an eye

the moment that he sees you, you hide behind the menu quickly, the most obvious giveaway in your ‘stealth mission’

Wei Wuxian laughs at himself, stares down at the cleared table from when he had just ordered

Lan Wangji looks up at him, a quiet inquisitive look that Wei Ying knows how to read without needing to look too closely

“my friend cares too much,” Wei Wuxian replies, both teasingly but also genuinely happy

because only you would care for him this much 

to go to the extent of following him around to see if Lan Wangji was an alright guy

and certainly, Lan Wangji was a more than alright guy

but having you there, sneaking around to look out for him, made Wei Ying feel even better

“give me a minute,” Wei Ying tells his date before reaching for his phone and typing out a message

a moment later, across the restaurant, your own phone lights up with a notification

best idiot: remember to take some nice candid photos of our date for insta! love ya

you’re embarrassed that your cover is blown (so much for the mustache)

and a bit startled

but when you look up, meet eyes with your best friend a few tables away

you get a wink

and you know it’s alright

Jiang Cheng

Jiang Cheng chokes on his water immediately at the sight

“oh Jiang Cheng, are you okay?” his date asks delicately, reaching for a napkin to wipe the water that dribbled down his nice shirt

“fine, i’m fine,” Jiang Cheng replies, red coloring his face as he adverted his eyes

it wasn’t good to judge people by appearance

but certainly

this person sitting a booth away didn’t care

a weird, old century top hat, fuzzy sweater vest, and a mustache falling off of their face-

wait

Jiang Cheng does a double take as his date talks on and on about their current medical school stories, or whatever it is

and Jiang Cheng has 20/20 vision, so his eyes can’t fool him

it’s definitely you

“y/n” Jiang Cheng mumbles, tiredly under his breath

“what’s that?” his date asks, in the middle of retelling and Jiang Cheng waves it off

“it’s fine, continue; how was it like post-op?” Jiang Cheng reverts and his date seems egocentric enough to go along with it

Jiang Cheng messages you under the table

me: why are you here? idiot ★彡: no i’m not me: do you think i’m stupid?

Jiang Cheng waits a bit and is a little offended that the answer he gets from you is a ‘yes’

idiot ★彡: anyways, you gotta do a better job at paying attention, or else your date is gonna be annoyed

almost as if you had jinxed him, Jiang Cheng looks up from his phone just to be caught red-handed by his date, unamused

“am i wasting your time?” his date asks

“no no, work just keeps me at times,” Jiang Cheng says, glances over his date’s shoulder to catch you holding your mustache and stuffing a piece of spaghetti into your mouth

Jiang Cheng sighs, lets you be

even though he knows you’re going to make fun of him later

Nie Huaisang

bffl ★彡: remember to relax bro ★彡

Huaisang smiles down at his phone, then mildly laughs

anxiously

because how could anyone be relaxed on a first date

bffl ★彡:  i can tell how fast your leg is shaking from my house, relax, who wouldn’t love you?

Huaisang wants to think that too

but he’s nearing the edge of his late 20s

and he still

stil!!

hasn’t really had a relationship that lasted more than a few months

me: wish me luck y/n bffl ★彡: you know i’m always the lucky one :D

and right after the text is sent, the doorbell of the restaurant rings

and the date commences

luck seems to be on his side tonight 

because whenever he looks down at his silent phone on his lap, your reminders of little things come to him at just the right moment 

like which fork to use when eating the salad

and when to act coy or cutesy and laugh into his hand a certain way

and it makes the date go well

that genuinely, Nie Huaisang feels a connection, some mild spark in him

it’s small

but it’s there

and it surprises him

that’s his first surprise

his second one

is when he’s being escorted by his date out of the restaurant and catches a very odd sight of a person following him

at first he doesn’t believe it

but then

he catches the way that a strand of you h/c falls out from under a very tight cap

and the ridiculous trench coat 

and also the timely way your advice had come in tonight

and he puts it together way too easily

“thank you so much for tonight,” Huaisang quickly averts before his date can ask why they were being followed by a person in a trench coat and a falling stick on mustache

though he will definitely thank YOU later when he gets home

Wen Ning

bestie ★彡: don’t sit too tightly it’s not an interview ★彡

Wen Ning startles at the notification on his phone

he fixes his posture more out of surprise than anything

he looks around, scanning the tables and seats

though nothing seems out of place

bestie ★彡: relax, you look like you’re about to pee yourself

Wen Ning takes a deep breath, reaches to text you back while he waits for his date to arrive

me: how do you know what i’m feeling? bestie ★彡:  i’m your bestest best friend in the world; it’s the vibes

but also, anyone can tell you’re anxious, look at that palm sweat

Wen Ning sighs, putting his phone down and wiping his hands on the sides of his jeans

luckily, it’s then that his date arrives and all is forgotten in the moment 

and the date goes pretty well

your tips help him get through most of the date intact

and honestly he’s grateful

he doesn’t understand how you can know exactly what he’s feeling and doing

he kinda thinks you have a tracker on him

but then

when the night ends,

and he’s just leading his date out to the door, he walks past a table and catches a person in a trench coat, mustache

and a glimmering opal phone case

your phone case

you confirm his suspicions by looking up, giving a little nod

and even though, you’re a little over the top

he appreciates it

[phantomwarrior12]

Intensify

Prompt: Confronting Chuck

Word Count: 2,157

Warnings: Blood, swearing, creepy vibes, and some fluff at the wayyyy end

Summary: Confronting God himself isn’t easy, but one must be bold for that which they hold dear.

A/N: Hey folks!

Ah yes, finally finished this one from a lovely anon. This chapter was prompted by @gabriel-spn-bingo​‘s square: Confronting Chuck. It was also partially inspired by @idabbleincrazy​‘s recent challenge and the mood board I was given, so thanks for that, hon! :)

Please leave a like/comment to let me know your thoughts! Also, I am open to prompts (especially the ones up on the bingo card), so send me prompts if you’d like to see one of these!

Enjoy!

~Phantom

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

You've been careful, systematically procuring the ingredients needed for the spell. You tell him they're to help ward the cabin, to make sure Castiel couldn't get in again--some spells you'd picked up from Rowena.

He's not entirely convinced, but he's just hopeful enough to indulge you. It goes on for another few months and all the while, things grow more complicated on Earth. He hasn't taken over, merely allowing his ghost army to run wild and unchecked throughout the states. All this time, he's been more concerned with winning your adoration to care about furthering his plans for humanity. Even after Rowena closed up hell and took away his army, he was unbothered. It's that, more than anything, that grants you hope--a fleeting prayer that your archangel is still in there somewhere and you can still get him out.

A prayer that all but vanishes when Chuck makes his presence known, tracking Gabriel on one of his escapades back to Earth and rather firmly reminds him of his duty. Gabriel had argued, Chuck hadn't approved and the archangel was beaten until his Father realized his unwillingness to unleash chaos. It became clear just how intent Gabriel was to regain the touch he aches for. In a fit of frustration, the Creator had chosen to threaten you.

From there, things had escalated. Somehow, it'd all led to this. Somehow, you're kneeling over Gabriel. Somehow, Castiel and Balthazar had come to your aid but--

"What are you waiting for?" Questions the voice behind you. Patronizing. Expectant. Insistent.

Crimson seeps from the wound in Gabriel's shoulder, cascading down the cool metal of the archangel blade your hand is wound around and you're inches away from brilliant whiskey. There was a time you'd lose yourself to the honey flecks, the glimmering gold that stared back at you with a warmth that bore into your very soul.

But not now.

Now he's battered and slouched against the wall with nothing but defeated hatred in his eyes. To your right, Castiel is slowly coming around from the beating he's taken from the archangel. To your left, Balthazar is splayed across the floor in an unconscious state.

And behind you, you hear God himself applauding in a slow, rhythmic clap that sets ever nerve on end. You steal a glance over your shoulder, almost afraid to meet his gaze as he paces closer.

"Archangel blade to the shoulder? The way you slashed his thigh and side to rescue dear, poor Castiel? Oh, I couldn't have written that final showdown better myself. A divine romance ending in a tragic act of self-preservation. I'm so proud, I could cry." He stops just beside you and your gaze shifts to Gabriel's limp form, whiskey darting between his Father and your uncertain eyes as Chuck continues, "Don't stop now, Y/N. It's the climax! You gotta finish it once and for all."

"I won't kill him."

"You don't have a choice. He's nearly killed Castiel and, oh, Balthazar is close to his second death. He's out of control, a menace. He's corrupted. You want to save them, don't you?"

"Not like this," you whisper, staring at Gabriel with a mixture of apprehension and fear.

Chuck's shoulders sag in a show of exaggerated dramatics as he rolls his eyes and kneels beside you, inspecting your tense frame, "You really are like those boys, aren't you? Sam's pitying nature, Dean's stubborn defiance, you're like a mini-Winchester." He heaves a sigh and shifts his gaze to your trembling hand on the archangel blade, watching the red liquid stain Gabriel's clothes before he looks at the youngest archangel, "Oh, Gabe, Gabe, Gabe...how's that corrupt grace working out for you?"

"Fine," Gabriel returns shortly, scowling up at his father with nothing short of contempt.

"Thought that might make for a good plot twist. Couple of angels get to come back from the dead, but surprise, the strongest isn't on your side." Chuck grins, gaze darting between you and Gabriel for a reaction. When your features don't shift beyond a glare, the grin falters with a resigned sigh as he stands, "What do I have to do to get a dramatic conclusion around here? Come on, Y/N! You're making this ending anti-climactic."

"We're not done," you bite back, fingers falling away from the blade and you can feel Gabriel's eyes on you in confusion.

Chuck scoffs, "Not done? Did you forget who you're talking to? Alpha, Omega, all that jazz? This is the end. I decide the ending, Y/N, that's part of being God."

"What kind of God puts his creations through something like this? You're not God. You're a cosmic asshole looking for cheap entertainment because you've lost the capacity to recognize the value of life. How many worlds have you done this to? Hundreds? Thousands? You got so wrapped up in your ability to create and destroy life that you never stopped to consider if you should."

Chuck doesn't appear fazed by your tirade, merely tilting his head with another overzealous shoulder sag, "Are you done? Because, great appeal for humanity, very touching. Very free-will-esque. But it doesn't change the ending to this story." The amusement fades and you shy away as he leans down, "You. Sam. Dean. Your angels and corrupted celestial pet are doomed. I could snap you all away without a second's hesitation, but I want this final battle to be worth all the sniveling and whining I've had to endure from you people. Though, I'm afraid you won't be around to see it. You see, if you won't finish off Gabriel, you can die together."

Chuck raises his hand to snap, cut short only by a cry from Gabriel, "No!"

A rush of air and suddenly you're kneeling over Gabriel in the beach house he'd trapped you in all these months. One breath. A second. A short third before you look down at Gabriel as he jerks the blade out of his shoulder and looks up at you.

"What--what happened?" You look around in confusion, chest heaving, heart pounding in a steady thrum echoing in your ears.

He tosses the blade to the side and gently pushes you off of him so he can stand on uncertain legs. You stare at him, noting the twinge of pain flashing across ordinarily veiled expressions.

"Gabriel?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"Now you're worried about my well-being? You stabbed me, Y/N. Three times."

"You were going to kill Cas. What did you expect me to do?"

He narrows his eyes and starts towards the door. You could swear you notice a faint glow along his thigh, torso and shoulder, but a glimpse is all you catch before your mind shifts back to the more pressing issue. "Why doesn't he just smite us all? It'd be faster and he can't lose--"

"He can't." Gabriel secures the door and rifles through one of the book case drawers, "Despite what he claims, he's not strong enough. Whatever tweedledee and tweedledum did to him, he's weakened. He has to do this the old fashioned way." He locates the chalk and sets to work on warding sigils - not that they'll do much against God himself, but it's something.

A shadow of a smile tugs at the corner of your lips at the fragment of familiarity: what you'd call his terms of endearment for the Winchesters. It sparks hope. It sparks a warmth you haven't felt around him since before he died. "Gabe?"

He doesn't answer, moving to another wall in a whirlwind of concentration and panic.

"Gabriel?"

Still no response and you shift to your knees, summoning what strength you have left to lift yourself from the floor, "Gabe--"

"What?" He bites back, throwing his hands up and turns to face you, "What's so damned important you're interrupting my efforts to save both of our asses?"

Some part of you cowers, the rest clings to the shards of his former self. But when you open your mouth, you can't speak. The fear you've fought to ward off nags like a heavy weight in your chest and your eyes drop to the space between you, "Never mind. I'm sorry."

"You damn well should be. I can't protect you if you won't let me."

"Why do you want to protect me?" A spark of indignation forces you to gather your courage, lifting your head and staring back at him with a flame you'd thought you'd lost, "Why am I so damned important that you risk everything to save me?"

"Isn't it obvious? I've made it as obvious as I can by now." He turns back to the wall, sketching another sigil and you lean on the arm of the couch.

"All you tell me is--" Your fingers touch your ribs gingerly, "For my own safety. Important, emotionally attached, protect--" you look up at him, "It was never about being queen. I'm your last tie. I die and you're doomed to darkness. That's why you brought me here. That's what you couldn't tell me."

"What? No."

"It is." You slide off the arm of the couch, slowly making your way towards him, "Subconsciously, you hate what you've become. You knew I was the last tie and you couldn't lose me. That's why you hid me here--no enemies, Chuck couldn't find me."

"Stop it." He warns, fingers bearing down on fragile chalk until it snaps in his hand.

"Gabriel--"

He wheels and grabs your shoulders, "I said enough."

Your eyes lock with sharp whiskey, "I'm not afraid of you, Gabriel. Not anymore. I finally know what this is all about and I," y/e/c searches glittering gold, "I finally understand."

There's a flare of surprise in his eyes as your hand lifts, cautiously pressing your palm again his cheek, cradling his cheek with a warmth he's ached for all this time. The fury fades and his eyes sag shut, inclining his head into your touch.

"I know," you whisper, the pad of your thumb stroking his skin softly, "I'm here. I understand. You wanted a way out, but you couldn't do it on your own."

"I never meant--" he stops himself, jaw flexing for a brief moment before his eyes open and lock with yours. "I'm sorry."

Your nod is slight, a subtle downward tilt of your head as you offer a warm smile. "It's all right. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

He's cautious in his movements, hands ghosting over your waist before one ventures to your jaw, "You better not. I can't...you're the key, sugar. I can't do this alone."

"And you won't. We'll find Sam and Dean, they'll help us--"

"No. Not them. After everything I've done - no."

"I can talk to them. It'll be okay, Gabe.  When this is all over, we can cleanse your grace." Your fingers smooth over his hair, tucking golden locks behind his ear.

"And if you can't?"

"We'll find a way. I found a spell and after we beat Chuck? You'll be back to your old Trickster self." You assure him with a stern look, forcing the concern and apprehension from your gaze. Every nerve ignites beneath his touch, endings firing in a way that isn't wholly relief nor entirely fear. Somewhere, there's a faint alarm and yet a looming sense of comfort that strives to silence blaring crimson lights in the back of his mind. His touch is tender, his eyes mesmerizing and every ounce begs to remain in his embrace.

Is this real? Is he real?

With Chuck pulling so many strings - how many Gabriels, how many yous? How many times have you done this dance? You used to believe your celestial relationship was unique - unheard of entirely - but now? Are the two of you Chuck's 'favorite couple' now? You always find your way back to one another, not even death can part you.

So is it real?

You half expect him to speak, to disregard boundaries as he had before and know your every thought. You half expect a spiel about how all of this is real - the affection, his touch - but judging the conflict consuming whiskey, you know the same questions plague his mind.

After all of this, is it all worth it if you don't know if it's real?

It's a question you'll have to answer on your own when all is said and done. For now, now you find the Winchesters and plan your next move. For now, you allow your head to rest on the corrupted archangel's shoulder for the first time since his return and he gathers you close, cradling your frame with a tenderness you've missed.

It may not be entirely him, but he is Gabriel and that, in and of itself, inspires more hope than you could have ever imagined. Maybe, just maybe, you can have your angel back.

So, it's time to go home.

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

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[oxfordeliterp]

❝ The devil doesn't come dressed in       a red cape and pointy horns;   he comes as everything you've ever wished for...❞

Jacob de Terreros | twenty-one (II) | The Riot Club | Diego Boneta | open

There once was a handsome, young prince who was said to be living in a kingdom with rivers of melted gold and diamonds for fruit in trees. Yet, this prince who seemed to be having it all couldn’t live happily ever after, because the myths about his land were all lies and the rivers have run dry a long time ago, even before they’ve chopped the said trees from their roots. But as a story must live on and enchant, he does his part pretending to be the prince in the stories, rather than a lost little duke with no trust fund. Jacob doesn’t mistake the world for his, but he does his best at fooling himself and pretending that it is, because once the responsibilities that curved his father’s back with worry strike him too, he knows he won’t be having the time to taste life and enjoy its wonders. He resents his sister — poor little thing has nothing to do other than smile prettily, and she can’t even get that done well, while his part requires an Oscar-worthy performance that he still manages to nail. He doesn’t care much for Victoria as long as it mades his qualities stand out and his value exposed — because he truly is the good son, and even their loving parents must know that for a fact. He doesn’t smile with his teeth and waits patiently for his time to talk so his words would be the most effective possibly given the circumstances, because somebody like him has to know strategy and etiquette as if they are his bible. And they are; he plays everybody on his fingers without difficulty, bringing them where he wants them to be with a snap of fingers. He wins them over through jokes and an upbeat, generally playful and friendly attitude, because at his core, he’s no big lord, but a witty schoolboy who doesn’t want to be locked in a rotten manor that hasn’t been dusted off since the Prohibition in Mexico, but who is ready to oblige, knowing it is his duty and not trying to fight destiny. He understands legacy and the honor of being part of his family, no matter how much they’ve fallen from the graces of heaven and run out of resources. Howsoever, what he doesn’t let show is that it scares the spirit out of him because, after a grandfather that drove their kind to ruin and made sure of the Terreroses’ downfall and a father who couldn’t fix a thing, he fears that failure has now snuck in his blood too. Being in control of his family is a terrifying thought and he feels like he can’t even tie his shoelaces properly, let alone be the face of a legendary name. Yet, this doesn’t stop Jacob either. He doesn’t know how to stop — they haven’t taught him — and for that he is bound to make a better leader than his ancestors. He knows how to paint himself in the best possible light, using the brush to underline his every good feature — his chin, his humour, his cute stuttering that he made an ally out of and is using to his advantage for humorous effect and an irresistibly adorable vibe. He knows how to linger on the details that suit him and how to throw under the rug the fear, the resentfulness, the stress and how proud and arrogant he can get, all based on thin air and the ghost of his royalty. It is a talent Jacob is mastering, but, sometimes, it suits him so well that people are starting to see the obnoxiousness behind the cracks. Sometimes, the fact that he has learned all his lines word by word and knows them by heart makes everything go a little bit too smoothly, making him look fearless and unstoppable, which is a good perception if he wants to intimidate and dominate, albeit not genuine. No matter what, most people are sold or at least pretending not to notice because of a faux balance and general friendliness among the members of the Riot Club. He is focused on, not only keeping up the appearances, but also learning to make money — and do it fast, because, for him, there is shame in both being born poor and eventually dying that way too, and he hated nothing more than the thought of being useless and incapable of dragging his family out of the bottomless hole they seem to have got stuck in. Although responsible, he is also careful not to lose his edge and always seem up for a new partying event. Every time he isn't getting the applause he is expecting, followed by awe and pats on the back — congratulations regarding a comeback or perhaps just compliments on his shirt — he feels trapped under the fear that maybe, that somebody who didn't laugh at his joke or who glared one second too much could be onto him, ready to expose his darkest family secrets and turn him into a fool. Considering the social standing he has and the type of people he is surrounding himself with, the risks are high, and he has always been afraid of heights. Yet, he is lucky enough to always somehow dodge all dangers and, if he keeps being cautious at the same time as looking as if he is having the best time of his life with a his fingers clenched around a Sex on the Beach, nothing bad can ever happen to him. After all, he is not his father and he most definitely is not his grandfather either, no matter what the resemblances in the mirror say.

Arabella Windsor He sounds like a fairy tale and although she is fighting everything in her nature to stay a cynic and roll her eyes at his every move, she feels drawn to the concept of a duke to be. The bubbly ponytailed girl who used to take equestrianism classes in her can’t help but stare. He, on the other hand, takes full advantage of his status and the glimmer in her eyes. He acts kind and sweet, because it is the role of his life and one he is familiar with, but deep down, what he wants from her sounds just like what everybody else’s intentions. It’s just an entertaining role play, not to mention that he is pulling sensitiveness out of the femme fatale of the campus that seemed just so unbreakable a moment ago. Jacob is having the time of his life toying with her, but he does it with such subtlety that nobody can tell. Amir Jain They are roommates, despite Amir affording otherwise, because he is trying to approach a modest lifestyle. Howsoever, they couldn’t get along less well, no matter how much both tried to make a connection and turn living together into something pleasant and cordial. It is embarrassing that they can’t manage to find a common ground to start on, in spite of sharing the place they live in, but, if anybody at all asks about their dynamic, instantly assuming that they would be the best of friends just because one acts like a prince and the other is literally one, they are answered with the same lie that they are. Pretending a friendship is beneath both of them and an unnecessary lie, but as soon as they took down that route, they couldn’t turn back and admit they don’t know anything about each other past the color of their toothbrushes. Lana Chambers Lana is his Cinderella, although neither is aware of that. They have met during the homecoming ball of this autumn, and although it wasn't a masquarade, the two didn't recognize each other as they sat on the same marble stairs outside of the party, just talking. There was no exchange of names, but a fluent trade of ideas, hitting each other with the best shots possible and, for once, connecting on a deeper level. Despite the Riot Club and the Quarrel Club being exclusive and narrow enough for people to expect all members to be acquainted with each other, fate made it so that Jacob and Lana never met beforehand and didn't cross paths even after the night that tied them. Although nothing out of the ordinary happened at the event, his interest is sparked and even she has to admit to being slightly swept off her feet by the mysterious stranger. Little does she know that her Prince Charming is actual royalty. Miles Kenilsworth His entire life has Jacob got the same generic stares at the cling of his name, but it leaving Miles completely indifferent and unimpressed is a sensation he has never met before. Everybody is at least slightly influenced by his title, but not the blond, which frustrates him to the point where he would get out of his little bubble made of gold, stepping on his pride and going to whatever length to prove that he is awe worthy. Although finding Miles antipathic to the bone, he is fighting his distaste trying to get under his skin and show him what he is made of, as if the validation of a boy who is chasing hard for the world’s matters for some reason more to him than the other dozens of open mouths. Miles, on the other hand, is too busy to even as much as notice him, or so he claims, pretending to look the other way and toy with the duke after spotting this need for proving himself.