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whereisten · 4 years

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Devotion/Obsession

A Jaehyun fic that’s part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: Jaehyun is new to town and wants you to show him around. But the truth is, he has known you for a while..

Pairing: Lucifer!Jaehyun x female reader

Other Characters: Husband!Kun

Genre: angst, smut, horror

Warnings: cursing, alcohol use, cheating, stalking, obsession, possessiveness, smut: breeding kink, unprotected sex, nipple sucking, size kink, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), multiple orgasms, c*eampie, pregnancy, character death.

Word Count: 8.9K

(A/N: okay ummm...this is influenced by stories told in the Bible, I hope I do not offend you with my interpretation, Jaehyun in this is a huge stalker!! This isn’t love, he’s obsessed and it’s unhealthy. But I hope you guys enjoy❤️ THANK YOUUU ARI FOR PROOFREADING THIS FOR ME I LOVE YOUUUU❤️❤️❤️❤️😭)

——————

Long ago, there were two beings on Earth, Adam and Eve. They were created by God and tainted by Lucifer, the serpent. The serpent found himself in love with God’s creation, Eve, for she bears a striking resemblance to his first love, Lilith, whom God cursed and sent away.

God’s most beautiful angel, Lucifer, fell in love with Lilith even though he was forbidden by God to do so. He tried to fight for her in a war against the angels of Heaven, but was struck down to Hell where he could rule the dark. He saw Lilith become a demon. Her beauty had gone away as God made her ugly and it hurt Lucifer to even look at her anymore.

And so, Lucifer turned to Eve and loved her instead, polluting her mind, body, and soul and thus, causing her to be cursed by God as well. She was hidden by God from Lucifer. He grew angry and decided to continue to defy God by living on Earth and causing havoc on both small and large scales.

He went by the name of Jaehyun now, a strikingly handsome bachelor with a mansion on the outskirts of a popular city. He stayed on Earth at the exact point above hell where his throne rested so he could cause evil to run through the city unstopped.

He never forgot about Eve. After all these years, his soul still yearned for her. He cursed at God for hiding her from him and for taking not one, but two of his dearest loves away.

He would walk through the city and see all the couples enjoying each other’s company. They’d laugh and smile and he’d wish nothing but pain for them. If he couldn’t be happy, why should they?

Then one day..he saw her..he saw Eve.

————

You were packing away fruits, placing the oranges in an organized pattern so they wouldn’t fall to the floor of the supermarket. He saw you, delicately picking up the spoiled fruits and placing them into the bin to throw away later. You had a small smile on your face that made you look sweet and your fingers were soft, gentle. You looked at each fruit with adoration in your eyes, like you treasured the round balls of nectar as if they were made of gold.

He walked closer to you, still staring intently.

He wondered how you could exist, how you were here with her face, her body, her hair..you were her. It didn’t take long for him to notice the sparkling ring on your wedding finger. But he didn’t care about that, now that he had you, he would never let you go.

Even if you didn’t sound like Eve or looked at him the way she did when she was in love with him, he had to have you.

“Hello, can I help you, sir?” You turned to the man you noticed had been hanging around you for a bit too long.

Your voice was heavenly, it was the best thing he’d ever heard.

You were looking at him, awaiting his answer when you placed an apple onto the shelf. You didn’t see that placing it in that exact spot would cause for another to fall. But Jaehyun already knew.

He quickly knelt down beside you and caught the green apple as it fell.

You looked down at him and gasped. How could he move so quickly.

He stood up straight, still locking eyes with you. A smile creeps across his face.

“Here.” He hands you the apple as you look down at it still in shock.

“Oh..thank you.” You chuckled and took it from him, then started to walk away after feeling..odd.

He walked towards you. “Umm..excuse me, miss? I’m new here, and I just want to know..where can I find the best coffee?”

He looked down at your name tag.

“Y/n..” he says quietly.

His voice is smooth and nice, just as nice as his perfect face, you thought it ought to have been carved by God himself. His jawline was perfect and his eyes were magnetic, you couldn’t look away.

However, you should’ve. You were married after all.

“Oh..hmm about five blocks south, you’ll find Johnny’s Café, it’s quite nice actually.”

Jaehyun wanted to ask you to join him, just so he could talk to you, just so he could get close to you and have you firmly in his grasp, never to let you disappear again. But he didn’t, he decided to wait, if he scared you away, that would only make it worse for not only him, but for you as well. The last thing he wanted was to hold you against your will just because you resembled her.

“Thank you, y/n, I’ll see you next time.” He walked close to you and nodded slowly. As if hypnotized, you never let his eyes go while you nodded.

He walked by you, leaving you breathless and almost star struck, but who was he? Why did he have this interesting glow about him that made him stand out from everyone else?

Later that day, Jaehyun followed you home. His black Lamborghini wasn’t discreet to say the least, so he had to trail behind a few hundred feet. He could see you jamming out to music in your car as you left work.

You were adorable and happy, he loved seeing you like this.

He parked far away from your house, he walked over in a long black trench coat and watched as you went inside. You were greeted by a man that looked like...Adam..

His eyes grew into glowing red orbs, he tried hard to hold back his horns and nails.

“This is God’s idea of a joke, isn’t it?” He spoke to himself. Not only were you the exact replica of Eve, your husband was an exact replica of Adam.

You hugged your husband, Kun, hard and smiled widely, happy to see him after a long day at work.

The door clicks shut and Jaehyun stands there with steam escaping his hot ears. He had to figure out how to get rid of Kun.

————

[The Next Day]

You’re lugging around a large box of lettuce through the aisles when you see him..again.

“Hello, y/n, do you need help?”

You stare at him. “W-what are you doing here?”

He was handsome, you had to admit, your heart couldn’t stop beating like crazy when he showed up. He was stylish in his turtleneck and jean jacket. He smelled refreshing like amber and honey.

“What? A man can’t shop for groceries?” His dimples peeked through as he smiled and tilted his head.

“Oh-no it’s just, two days in a row?”

You furrowed your brows when you sensed something wasn’t right.

Jaehyun could tell that your heart rate was rising because of his presence, you looked around like you were nervous.

“I know, it’s weird, right? But the truth is..I just wanted to see you again..” he said huskily. You felt your chest weaken.

You put the box down and turned to him. “Oh so you’re one of those creeps? Well, I’m flattered but..I’m also married.”

“That’s alright..” he gave a small smile, his dimples showing through again. You turned away.

“So...what are you looking for today?”

“A friend.”

“A friend?” You chuckled.

He swayed from side to side and looked up to the ceiling. “Okay, I’ll get to the point..there’s a..korean barbecue place that I wanted to try..are you free after work?”

He was so strange but had an aura about him that you couldn’t ignore. His features were sharply defined and his eyes never let you go. You should’ve been creeped out but you weren’t, for he was warm and intriguing. Lately, you felt like Kun was so busy with work. You’d get home and wait hours for him, your friends were busy as well as they were either taking college classes or travel king constantly.

Sometimes, you felt you were alone, so why not start something new.

You hummed before answering.

Jaehyun watched your cute expression, the way you looked to the floor and stuck your hands in your apron.

“I guess..I am free after work.” You nodded.

Jaehyun nearly jumped up and down right inside the store. He grinned from ear to ear.

“Just don’t pull any moves, I’m married okay?”

You teased and felt your face become warm.

“I promise I won’t.”

The two of you went to dinner at the Korean barbecue place Jaehyun wanted to try. He was enraptured by you, caught up in your presence. He was so in love and you had no idea.

You told him about places to visit in the city and he told you about where he had come from. He made up a city and a backstory to relate to you, telling you that he had investments that started from his grandparents and that’s how he made money.. He’d do anything just to keep speaking with you, even if it meant lying.

He fought hard to hold back his naturally glowing red eyes and goat-like horns. He had to remain normal so you could become his soon enough.

And when you left him and went home, he stayed outside of your house once again, using his elevated hearing skills to listen to you speak with your husband.

Kun was talking to you about some new project he had in a city about two hours away. You stayed silent, disappointed that he would be gone yet again for a business trip. Kun was the senior architect and had to present, he couldn’t skip out on these trips as much as he wanted to.

“Listen, baby I’m sorry but you know how it is.”

Kun stepped into the bathroom as you brushed your teeth. He took his shirt off as he was about to shower.

You spit water out into the sink and look at your reflection, you were trying hard to hold back your anger. Kun stood behind you and watched you through the mirror with a concerned expression on his face.

“If I knew you were going to be gone all the time, I wouldn’t have married you..”

Kun scoffed. “Don’t say that, you know you don’t mean that, y/n.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and smirked through the mirror.

His hand went to your breast and cupped it.

“I mean it, Kun, how is this supposed to work when we have a family? I want us to both be present for our kids.”

Kun kissed along your neck, he knew you were ticklish.

You started to giggle. “Kun..stop, you’re distracting me.”

“Ahh baby, did you just say “our kids?” Are you trying to tell me something?” He squeezed your breasts gently

You turned to him and kissed his lips. His other hand reached under your frilly nightgown, bunching it up at the waist, and to his satisfaction you wore nothing else under it.

“Should we start right now? Should we have a family?” He brushes his clothed erection into your back as he presses his fingers over you already dripping folds. His deep voice always got you like this.

You gasped and looked at him through the mirror. Soon you were gripping the edge of the counter and crying out his name as he fucked you from behind. He grabbed your hair, pulling your head back so you could look at him through the mirror as you came all over his girthy cock.

Jaehyun heard it all, he imagined it was him bringing you to sweet paradise like he did long ago. He listened to your moans and imagined it was his name you called as your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

It pained him to have to pleasure himself as he imagined all that he would do to you. He was Lucifer, after all. He could have anyone in the dark world pleasure him without even asking twice, but he didn’t want just anyone. He wanted you, and soon he would have you right in his grasp.

————-

[1 Month Later]

Jaehyun was a regular customer at the supermarket you worked at, he’d come in at least once a day. You found it odd that he always knew when your breaks were, so he’d bring you coffee or a snack.

If he didn’t visit during his break, he’d wait for you outside so you’d go to a new place for dinner together after you clocked out.

You spoke about everything. He seemed so smart as he knew about every detail in history and taught you about the world and why things were the way they were.

You watched him intently, your eyes grew when he told you something so interesting, your heart started to race. Like the presence of aliens or ghosts and witches. They all existed and Jaehyun told you all of the evidence as you sat there, stunned.

And then, it was his turn to ask questions.

He finally asked about your husband, even though he knew everything about him.

He knew that he had a short temper sometimes but your fights would either lead to make up sex or him sleeping on the couch. He had watched you every night since finding you. He didn’t sleep, for even the thought of closing his eyes and losing sight of you made him sick to his stomach.

“My husband, Kun, is an architect. He works really hard, but he loves me and I love him. He’s really sweet, I never stop thinking about him. We got married about a year ago, and I couldn’t be happier.” You smiled as you looked down at your hot pot as thought of Kun.

“Ahh..that’s nice..he seems like a supportive partner, during your first year of marriage, have you fought a lot?” Jaehyun tilted his head while smirking.

“Nope! We don’t fight at all, we’re pretty chill, you know?”

You were lying to him and he didn’t like that, but he swallowed hard and smiled nonetheless.

“I see..” he nodded.

He realized that he’d have to work harder to get you to stop thinking about Kun. He’d have to sabotage your current relationship if he ever dreamed of being with you soon.

Killing him would be too easy, he’d have to make Kun so bad, that you’d run to him for relief.

———

[A Week Later]

You kissed Kun goodbye and wished him well for his trip. He quickly kissed you back and walked through the front door without a hug.

“Honey?” You called out to him. “Where’s my hug?” You pouted.

He threw his hand up and continued to walk towards his car. “Sorry, baby, gotta go!”

He had been acting strange these past few days, but you knew he was stressed so you brushed it off. You had had sex the night before but he wasn’t as gentle as he usually was, you could tell something had upset him as he choked you for the first time. You didn’t mind it, you were just surprised by how...different he was.

Little did you know that it was Jaehyun that was making his daily work more difficult. Kun’s important documents and files would go missing right before a presentation, his coworkers weren’t showing up for work, and his boss was always upset with him for some reason. He was starting to dislike his job and he wasn’t sure why, for this was his passion, but lately, everything seemed to be going poorly.

Kun was having difficulty sleeping as well. He’d have disturbing dreams of a place with fire and monsters with sharp teeth. He’d sweat and pant, and eventually be jolted awake in his bed, every night at 3:23 A.M. he’d go downstairs and watch something on TV or write down a few project ideas.

The lack of sleep definitely contributed to his poor mood, but he didn’t tell you for some reason.

Jaehyun watched Kun speed off. He smiled to himself, knowing that his plan was working, he was getting frustrated at work and began taking his anger out on you.

————

[Four Days Later]

You continued to spend time with Jaehyun. You lost track of time as you watched him speak. His dimples were adorable, his voice was intoxicating and you loved staring into his deep brown eyes.

He watches you play with your wedding ring as you nod and smile at him. His smile was like a blooming garden, his laugh was like heavenly trumpets. The two of you were flirting now, and he could tell from your heartbeat that you weren’t really listening to him, instead, you were fantasizing about him. The glances turned into stares.

You watched his lips and licked your own, your face was hot, but you furrowed your brows and looked down at your ring.

What were you doing? Were you getting emotionally attached to him? You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t hurt Kun.

You got up from your seat. “Well, it’s late.. I should go.”

“Noo.. don’t leave yet.” Jaehyun stood up and touched your hand. The disappointed look in his eyes ate away at your heart. You were developing a nice friendship, but a part of you was afraid that it was becoming something more, something that couldn’t be.

“You look stressed. Do you want a drink?..we can visit that new bar in town.” Jaehyun bites his bottom lip.

A drink did sound nice, it had been a while since you and Kun went out to a bar together and sometimes you did miss the atmosphere, you were young after all, everyone else in their early twenties went out.

Jaehyun smiled to himself as he saw you contemplate your options. He knew you were worried about Kun, but he also knew you needed to have some fun.

So you agreed.

The two of you went out to a bar and drank. You laughed and joked around all night. Jaehyun pretended to be affected by the alcohol, just so he could make you laugh and see your beautiful smile.

He dropped you off home at about 1 A.M after you sobered up a bit.

You turned to him and licked your lips. “You know, Jaehyun, if I weren’t married to Kun..I would date you for sure.” You giggled and leaned in close. And all Jaehyun could think was “yes.” He wanted to feel your plump lips so badly, he wanted to caress them and make love to you to relive the best days of his life, but now was not the time.

He backed away and held your hand while searching your eyes. “Y/n...you should go inside now..”

You sighed, nodding as you opened the door to quickly leave before you could embarrass yourself any more.

You go into your house and to your surprise, Kun is there, his face red and stern as he sat on the loveseat in the living room. The room was dark, lit only by a small night light in the corner and the moonlight from outside.

Kun was nearly fired by his boss during his trip. He was upset and frustrated, but what made matters worse was when he went home at 10 PM to see that you weren’t there. Then time went on and you still didn’t come home.

You smirked and put your bag down.

“Babyyyyy.. I missed you.” You start to crawl over his lap slowly.

He can tell from the drawn out tones in your voice that you’re drunk. He winces and turns away.

“Where were you, y/n?”

“Out with a friend..we had some drinks and talked.” You straddle him, placing his crotch in between your legs as you kneel over him. You then lean down and kiss his collarbone.

“Why are you home so late? Is it because you didn’t think I’d be home early?” Kun growled out. He wasn’t amused in the slightest by the way you were acting.

“No, baby, I just wanted to hang out with someone for a little bit, you know? I’m so lonely when you’re not here.”

You try to kiss his lips but he flicks his head to the side.

“Who’s this “friend?”

You gulp and straighten your body. You pout as you look down at him. “Baby, kiss me..don’t you miss me too?” You take the straps of your dress down before unhooking your bra and throwing it to the floor.

Jaehyun watched through an open window behind the loveseat as you kneel over an angry Kun. His eyes glow red and his horns grow out of his head as does the straining member in his pants. You in your drunken haze never noticed the pair of crimson eyes outside.

Kun doesn’t touch you or look at your breasts with nipples begging to be sucked. He wanted to take them into his mouth badly, but he was more focused on another issue at hand.

He wrapped his hand around your throat. “Tell me..their name.”

You smirked. “His name is Jaehyun..but we’re just friends, baby, I promise.”

Kun thrusts himself into you from below, grinding hard against your covered opening. You whimper and move your hips to rub your slit against him.

“Well..stop being friends with him, no guy just wants to be friends with a girl..he wants to fuck you..”

You grind down onto him harder, he squeezes his hand and grips your thigh.

“He doesn’t, he’s really nice and helps me at work sometimes.”

Kun digs his nail into your thigh causing you to cry out in pain. He digs into it so deep, he sees blood from your leg run onto his thumb.

But you reach under your dress and pull his boxers down. You still wanted him in your aching core badly, the pain only added to your yearning.

“Y/n.” He says sternly as he watches you align yourself with his hard cock. You sink down onto him slowly and let out a loud moan as it passes through the sensitive skin and rests deep in your core. You adjust to him quickly as you had already been built up by dry humping him before.

He squeezes your throat again.

“Y/n..”

You move up and down. “Yes..” you call out before licking your lips.

He grabs your waist with both hands and lifts you off of him.

“Kun!” You cry his name after being left empty.

“You’re not gonna get out of this so easily. If you want my cock, tell me you’re done with him.”

“But, baby..”

Kun shakes his head. “Don’t. I’m your husband and you should really take into consideration how I might feel when you spend time with men, when you fucking drink alcohol with men like..like some kinda slut.”

You gasped. “Slut?”

Kun nods. “Look at you, you’re just thirsty for any male attention. I work my ass off for a few days and you’re already looking for a replacement.”

“Kun, that’s not true.” You felt your chest rumble, as if you were about to burst into tears.

He flips you over onto the couch. “I’m your husband, aren’t I?”

You nod.

“Then do as I say, don’t go out with Jaehyun again.”

Before you can protest his thrusts into you hard and begins to choke you again.

He goes hard and fast as you mewl.

“Baby, slower, please.”

He bites your nipple and looks down at you to see your body tremble with each rough thrust he gives you, your lips parting to let out the most heavenly moans, your round breasts moving up and down, your legs bent and spread across the loveseat.

“You’re all mine, right?”

“Yes..fuck, yes.” His thumb on your clit makes you dizzy.

“Then I’m gonna breed you, would you like that? Gonna fuck you so hard and get you pregnant.” Kun grunts into your ear.

Jaehyun grimaces outside of your window. Kun, or Adam rather, hadn’t changed at all. He still believed in a woman’s subordination to her husband. He believed from the beginning of time that a woman should lay under her husband, not above.

And now, he was trying to make you his by breeding you, making it impossible for you to break the link between the two of you. But Jaehyun had to make sure that didn’t happen, he had to stop him before he could do this to you.

————

[Three Days Later]

It’s been three days since that night and you hadn’t shown up to work. Kun made love to you day and night on your time off, he felt threatened by the presence of another male in your life and felt it necessary to remind you why you married him in the first place.

He cooked breakfast for you and bought you nice things. You even went to the movies and ice skating. You enjoyed the time off and Kun’s company, it finally felt like things were getting back to normal. You were happy.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, was furious. He knew where you were, but he couldn’t believe that you had forgotten about him so easily. He didn’t want to get violent, but maybe he would have to.

A few days later, you finally return to work and as usual, Jaehyun was there to bring you a cookie.

“Hey! Where have you been?” He asked as you put bread up on the shelves.

“Oh..I took some time off, Kun came home early so we had a little vacation..thank you for the other night though, I really had a great time.” You finally looked up at him and noticed the slightly crazed look in his eyes. His lips were tightly shut.

“That’s great. Would you like to go out again tonight?” He asks sweetly.

You sigh and shake your head. “Umm...Jaehyun..I can’t..do this..”

His smile starts to fade.

“I-I can’t pretend that we are just friends when I’ve had thoughts about you that I shouldn’t have. I’m married and it’s..really not right for me to get emotionally involved with someone.”

Jaehyun chuckles. “That’s nonsense! We are just friends.”

“But we’re not. Look..it’s best if we end this now, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t come to my work place anymore.”

Jaehyun screams internally. You were really doing as Kun said by cutting him off. Was he that disposable?

A smile still rests on his face.

“As you wish..” he nods and leaves after handing you the cookie he brought.

You swallow hard and sigh. That was harder than you thought it would be, but it felt right. It felt like you could finally focus on your marriage with Kun.

Your day at work ended as it usually did. You closed up and walked to your car, but as you got closer you noticed a figure standing beside it.

It had two red eyes and horns peeking out of its skull.

You slowed down. “Hello?” You called out into the empty parking lot.

The figure stepped out of the shadows and under a street light, that’s when you squinted to make out its familiar features. The red eyes and horns had disappeared.

“Jaehyun?”

He stood there creepily in a long black coat and black pants. His face was unreadable and he stayed silent.

You walked closer. “Jaehyun, what are you doing here?”

“You know..” Jaehyun scratches his head and laughs.

“I think we should grab something to eat.”

“Jaehyun..” you looked to the side and away from his somber face. You were just a few feet away from each other now.

“We’ll just be eating, we don’t even have to talk.” Jaehyun stepped forward and pleaded.

He didn’t want to lose you, he couldn’t lose you, not after all this time when he had finally gotten so close.

“I can’t, Kun is waiting for me.” You looked up at him with wide eyes.

Jaehyun felt his body tremble whenever you looked at him like that.

He suddenly leaned forward and kissed your lips hard. You fell into him for a brief moment, but then realized what was happening. You quickly bit his lip and pulled away.

“Jaehyun!” You rubbed your lip. “What the hell?!”

He licked the blood on his lips and frowned after your warmth disappeared.

“I’m sorry, I just-“ he reached out for you again but you backed away and opened your car in a rush.

“Leave me alone! I never want to see you again!”

Jaehyun only watched as you scurried into your car seat and locked the car doors.

He banged on the window hard, you jumped from the sound for you were terrified by him. You saw a dark flint in his eyes that you’d never seen.

Tears ran down your cheeks as you put the car in drive.

You sped out of the parking lot and away from him.

“I’ll never let you go, y/n, now that I have you..I’ll never let you go.” He whispered to himself.

————-

[1 Month Later]

The honeymoon feeling you felt with Kun soon dissipated as things went back to how they’d usually been. He spent his time at work and would come home upset, some nights he didn’t even speak to you. He looked sleep deprived and when you asked him about it, he’d have a fit and say he’s fine.

Some nights he wouldn’t look at you, you couldn’t remember the last time you had made love.

He was always short with you, but lately, you found it increasingly difficult to deal with his negative mood. Is this really who you wanted to be married to?

Jaehyun had been messing with him, he’d purposely make every day difficult for him. Kun couldn’t sleep most nights, but when he did, Jaehyun made sure to fill his mind with dark scenes to scare him. Sometimes he’d throw in false images of you making love to a faceless man. It gave Kun the feeling that he was walking in on you cheating on him. He would wake up from these nightmares but they felt so real, he couldn’t ignore how upset they made him.

Kun was paranoid, he felt like someone was out to get him and he didn’t know who it could be, but he didn’t trust even you as much as he did three months ago.

Then one night, you came home late because of a terrible thunderstorm and traffic. You were only about an hour late, but Kun was already home and steaming on the couch.

“Where were you?” He asked as soon as you entered the house.

You exhaled loudly. “Oh, so now you speak to me.”

“Yeah, I’m speaking to you, I’m asking a fucking question.”

You raised your brows. “And who are you to talk to me like that?”

“I’m your husband, or did you forget that when you fucked him tonight?” Kun bit back as he sat up in the chair.

Your face wrinkled as you placed your bag down.

“What are you talking about?”

“Jaehyun..do you think I’m some kind of idiot? I know you’re still seeing him.”

You scoffed. “Wowww Kun.”

You walk away to the kitchen to get some water.

“No, don’t “wowww” me, tell me I’m lying!” His voice started to raise, he walked into the kitchen after you.

“Kun..you sound ridiculous right now, I’m late because there’s a thunderstorm, or do you not hear it just like you don’t hear your phone ringing when I call you?” You asked sarcastically.

“If you’re gonna be late, you should tell me.”

You gulped down your water. “I don’t have to report anything to you! You’re not my king or whatever you think you are.”

“I’m your husband! And you should treat me like a king because look at this house, you wouldn’t be in it if it weren’t for me.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you really holding the house over my head? Wow Kun, you’ve really hit rock bottom, haven’t you?”

Kun chuckles. “Maybe Jaehyun lives somewhere nice, why don’t you go to him since I’m not your king.”

“Okay, here we go again, why are you so insecure, Kun?!”

The two of you went back and forth that night. You broke down in tears as Kun said hurtful things that left you stunned.

“I want a divorce!” You yelled and stormed out.

You jumped into your car and drove away, you didn’t know where you were going to go, but you knew you needed to be away from him.

You dialed up Jaehyun who had heard the entire conversation from outside of your house.

“Hello?” He said with the faked tone of confusion in his voice.

“Jaehyun..I need to see you.”

You drove to his house.

It was an incredibly large mansion, and when you went inside, the walls were lined with gold and red velvet curtains. It looked beautiful, unreal almost.

You wondered how Jaehyun could live in an expensive place at such a young age.

Jaehyun looked at your magnificent face as your mouth dropped open.

“Investments.” He smirked.

You laughed and looked back at him. His eyes were warm, his smile was bright.

He could tell you had been crying so once in the foyer he steps close to you and searches your wet eyes.

He runs his thumb along your cheek as you gaze up at him.

“What happened, love?”

You shook your head. “It’s Kun..we fought, I just..I don’t know, Jaehyun, I don’t think we can make it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, y/n..”

“I love him, I really do but..” you look to the side and sniffle.

“Is he controlling, y/n?”

Your eyes flicker up to him. You nod slowly.

“Is he the reason why you stopped hanging out with me?”

You nod again.

Jaehyun purses his lips. “Y/n..he’s threatened by you, he doesn’t want you to be independent now that you’re married. He wants to control you and that isn’t a partnership. That isn’t love.”

Your eyes brim with tears once again. “Jaehyun..I don’t want to think about him right now...I want to feel loved, can you do that for me?”

Jaehyun’s dark soul nearly escapes his body. “Of course.”

You place both hands on his head and kiss him slowly and sensually. You both close your eyes as you fall into him more, his arms wrapping around you to bring you closer to him. He wants to become one with you, feel you, smell you, to be completely enraptured by you for eternity.

Time stood still and your heart fluttered as it was finally being satisfied by something it had craved from the first moment you met Jaehyun.

He too felt everything slow down to a crawl, your lips tasted like the sweetest fruit, your hands were soft like plush blankets.

He pulls away to breathe, his hot breath hitting your now swollen lips. “So beautiful” he whispers into them, then kisses you again in the dim lighting of his house.

He takes you into his arms and carries you to one of his many bedrooms.

“I will take you higher than the heavens themself, just give in to me.” He whispers softly.

He lays you down gently onto the fluffy bed and watches as you relax into it, your hair looking gorgeous as it lays against the white sheets, your neck just begging for soft kisses or hastily made bite marks, cute nose and round, swollen lips. He looks into your wide eyes and smiles. “You’re stunning.” He kicks his shoes off and crawls over you.

You giggled and held him by the hem on his shirt. “Jaehyun...kiss me.”

He leaned down and kissed you as you asked. He was transported back to when your name was Eve and the two of you made love in the garden. Your lips taste the same as hers, your skin feels the same, your touch and everything else was the same. Jaehyun was more than pleased to finally be experiencing your love again.

You start to take your pants down your legs and eventually kick them off. Jaehyun takes his clothes off as well, then watches you take your hoodie off to reveal your breasts.

Without hesitation, he lays his tongue flat against the perky nub, coating it with his spit. He then swirls his tongue around it while he massages the other breast that he hasn’t tasted yet.

You moan and run your fingers through his hair.

His fingers press onto your thigh, then work their way to your sensitive skin between your legs. You tremble as they brush lightly against it.

You arch your back, telling him silently that you want him to go further. He sucks your nipples harder and listens to another moan leave your beautiful lips.

He takes two fingers and uses them to part your folds. He circles his fingertips around your entrance to collect the liquid that has formed from you being so turned on already.

He kisses the skin in between your breasts.

“You taste so sweet.”

He pushes his fingers into you slowly, your legs widen a bit to adjust to him. His fingers are long and slender, but it doesn’t take much time before his knuckles hit your most sensitive part.

“Jaehyun..” you exhale.

His fingers glide in and out of you slowly, he curls his finger tips to press right onto the fleshy spot that makes your head spin. He flicks his tongue across your breast as his fingers work on your needy area.

He looks up at you through low eyes, your dainty fingers grasping onto the sheets tightly.

“So-so close.” You whimper.

His fingers move faster, pressing onto your clenching walls as you get closer.

He then kneels and looks down at you as his fingers still move back and forth.

He licks his lips and lowers his face to the apex of your open legs. He flicks his tongue across you slit now, combining the action of his tongue with his finger to drive you crazy.

He moves his tongue in circular motions onto your clit as his finger moves in faster and presses onto your g-spot harder.

His long tongue flattens onto you repeatedly.

You cry out his name one final time before cumming onto his fingers. He continues to rub his nose onto your clit and lick inside you as you climax and shake.

You try to push your body up away from him, but he holds your waist down firmly and continues to eat you out.

“Jaehyun!” You look down at him to see his eyes, almost with a glint of red in them, looking up at you sternly.

He places a kiss onto your folds then crawls over you to face you. He licks his lips.

“Y/n, my love, I will never force you to bow down to me, you are my queen, you always have been. I will not lose you like I did so long ago.”

You’re slightly confused, but you nod and kiss him. He lays down beside you and takes your waist into his hands as his tongue now dances with yours.

He brings your body over on top of his.

Your skin becomes littered with goose pimples as he runs his hands up and down your thighs.

You kneel over his intimidating length and take in a sharp breath while running your hands along his chest and abs. He, too, was magnificent, like a painting or sculpture come to life.

He takes your hand in his and watches your naked body above him.

He remembered the first time you made love, you rode him that time too, bringing him to his most memorable orgasm of all time.

You sink down onto him slowly, your head falling back instantly.

You couldn’t stop your pussy from clenching around him as he stretched you out so well and stimulated you just from being halfway in.

He pushes up into you to help you. You feel his cock buried deep inside you, running against your silky walls and pressing onto your sweet spot once more.

He curved into you so perfectly. You bite your lips and swivel your hips as you move up and down. He grabs your ass and brings it down onto him.

He groans when you quiver around him and it is a low sound that you’ve never heard before, it’s almost animalistic.

But it’s hot, and pushes you closer to the edge.

Jaehyun watched your body shimmer in the low, warm lighting of the room. Your face is adorable, your skin is soft and glistens, you smell like vanilla. He wished he could have you like this forever, gliding down onto him, your breasts moving up and down as you whimper and moan from the feeling of his cock stretching you out.

You are his Heaven.

He thrusts up into you harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as does your groans and cries.

Jaehyun fits you so perfectly, you’re on the brink of tears, you're weak and ride him sloppily as you chase your high.

Jaehyun knows this and flips you over onto your back in a swift move. He places your legs onto his shoulders and pushes into you. His hips slap against yours as he kisses you again.

He uses his ability to grow even more while inside you.

His eyes glow red but your eyes are closed as he fucks into you from above now.

“Jaehyun..fuck..” Tears escape your eyes. Your pussy clenches uncontrollably around his cock.

He runs his palm onto your belly and feels his cock twitch in the pit of your stomach. “I’m so deep inside you, do you like feeling me? Do you want me to release deep inside you?”

He moves faster.

You arch your back. “Fill me up, please, I want you inside me so badly.” You whimper out.

Jaehyun licks his thumb and places it onto your clit. He licks your breast again and sucks hard.

You cum hard and shake.

He climaxes as well, cumming deep inside you as you let out a stream of curses. You had never orgasmed so hard, but something about Jaehyun has you trembling for several minutes. He was able to deliver pleasure just as he was able to deliver pain in the underworld.

He rubs his thumb along the side of your sweaty face while watching his cum leak out of you.

“My love..would you like me to fuck you again?”

His voice is gravelly, but confident, for he already knows the answer.

You nod and within a few milliseconds you’re on your chest with your ass up in the air. Jaehyun pounds you into the bed and has you calling out his name several times that night.

You fall asleep after climaxing many times. You felt amazing, like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. Jaehyun held you in his arms and cuddled you to sleep.

“Y/n..I’m happy you’re mine now.”

————

[The Next Day]

Jaehyun woke up to see that you left him, you had snuck out and drove back home.

You left a note for him explaining that you couldn’t be in a relationship with him for your heart belonged to Kun.

“Thank you for being here for me, I am sorry for coming to you during my weakest moment. I hope you will respect my wish to not see you again, as I must remain steady in my marriage to Kun.

With Love, Y/n”

Jaehyun crumbles up the note and sets fire to it in his hands. His horns grow large and his eyes beam red, furious is an understatement.

How could you do this to him? He made love to you, gave you the best love you’d ever had and you still went back to him.

He would make sure to ruin Kun, for if he couldn’t have you, no one else should.

————

[3 Months Later]

Jaehyun was still hurt by you leaving him that night, but he knew there was nothing he could do. A part of him wanted you to be happy, but a part of him wanted to destroy Kun so he could have you all to himself.

He had planned to get rid of him until he discovered that you were pregnant. He wasn’t sure if the baby was his or Kun’s, but he did know that if he were to kill Kun you would potentially lose the baby from devastation. He couldn’t do that to you, he couldn’t cause that pain even if he was satisfied by Kun’s death.

So he watches you from afar, imagining once again that it was him preparing for a baby instead of Kun.

The two of you looked happy, maybe it was the child that was making things different.

Either way, he hated seeing you so happy without him.

————

[8 Months Later]

You give birth to your son. You and Kun raise it together and take turns watching it during the night.

One day, Jaehyun visits you while you cradle the baby at home alone.

You open the door and your smile falls.

Jaehyun, however, smiles harder when he sees your pretty face, glowing from the post pregnancy hormone changes.

Seeing you like this makes him want to get you pregnant all over again.

“J-Jaehyun?” You hadn’t seen him since that night, but he still looked good.

“Y/n..it’s been so long, hasn’t it?”

Something about him being there after so much time made you uneasy.

“Well..can I come in?” Jaehyun gives a half smile.

You nod and let him in.

You hold your baby and sit in a rocking chair. “So..what brings you here?”

“I’m here to see my child of course!”

Your brows furrow. “YOUR..child?”

Jaehyun smirks and steps closer to you. He smiles to himself as he looks at the baby.

“Come on, y/n, did you forget how many times I buried my seed into your beautiful cunt that night?”

You shook your head. “Don’t speak like that, please. I was weak, I-I was sad and broken..”

“Of course, but you loved it, you loved all of it.” He looked up to the ceiling and shut his eyes.

“I can still hear your moans right now.”

“Kun is the father, Jaehyun..this isn’t up for debate.”

“And if he’s not?” He tilts his head and looks back down at you.

“Well, he is. I’ll raise this child with my husband, regardless of who the biological father is, we have no place for you in this house.”

“Tsk tsk...keeping me away from my own child? Y/n..that’s not very nice of you, my love.”

“Don’t call me that!” Your voice rose slightly. “We had one night together, I don’t want to be with you, I will never be yours.”

“You’re already mine, y/n, you always will be, don’t you understand, after all these years?”

You shook your head. “Jaehyun.. you’re crazy. I’d like you to leave.”

You reached your hand out to grab your phone.

Jaehyun sees that you're nervous and chuckles to himself. “Oh..y/n..you’ve really made me upset. I guess I will just have to embrace my nature.”

He shuts the front door as you stare intently.

You always had a fear that the baby might be his, but how did he know you were pregnant in the first place?

————

[Two Days Later]

Jaehyun summons Lilith.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She appears to him with a slim body and dark hair this time. Her face is perfect like one of some celebrity, but God cursed Jaehyun’s vision so that when he looks at Lilith, he can only see an ugly monster.

“I need you to take it.”

Jaehyun demands as sits on his throne in Hell. He tosses an apple in the air.

“Seduce the man and come back with the baby.”

“And what do I get out of it?” She places her hand on her hip.

“Nothing. But if you don’t do it, I will rip your fucking head off.” He looks up at her slowly. “Is that a good enough reason for you?”

Lilith scoffs then goes to do as she is told.

She appears to Kun who is half asleep on the couch in the living room. It’s his turn to watch the baby, so he can’t sleep completely.

“Hey there, big boy.” She says smoothly and crawls over him.

“Who—who are you?”

“My name’s Lilith.” She zips her leather jacket down to reveal her bare chest. “You look lonely, sweetheart.”

Kun is hypnotized by her, he doesn’t know if he’s awake or asleep, but he does know that he wants her badly.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Lilith asks with doe eyes as she looks up at him and pumps her breasts.

Kun nods and soon finds himself enraptured by a succubus, burying himself into her and thus falling into her trap as you, his wife, lay sound asleep in the room above.

Once Lilith brings Kun to an extraordinary climax, he falls asleep.

She then walks upstairs slowly to the baby room.

Her appealing looks disappear and she transforms into her true being, a disturbingly ugly monster with grey skin and long legs and arms. Her bones crack as she grows to about 6 feet 6 inches tall, her black hair falls out onto the floor and her jaw protrudes as her eyes glow red. She smells like rotten eggs as green liquid oozes out of her pores and eyes.

She stares at the baby sleeping soundly in its crib.

You, however, wake up from the crackling sound.

“Kun?” You murmur.

You get up and walk to the baby room.

You nearly pass out from the stench and feel your legs grow weak when you see the ghastly being standing over your baby.

“Hey!” You call out, but when the thing turns around, it already has your baby in its arms. A wide creepy smile filled with about twenty sharp and misshapen teeth creeps across its face.

You start to cry. “Put him down!”

You run towards it but it disappears.

You grasp the crib and look into it, shifting the blankets around before looking under it.

Your baby was nowhere to be found.

You let out a painful scream that Jaehyun, and even your neighbors could hear and fell to the floor.

Kun finally woke up and ran upstairs. He consoled you as you cried uncontrollably.

———-

[One Month Later]

The police and everyone in the neighborhood helped you to search for your baby, but nothing happened.

You tried to explain that night so many times, but nothing made sense and people just thought you were crazy.

Even Kun. He left you soon after the incident, the heartbreak was too much for him and he didn’t trust you. So he left you, moving further away and starting a new life without you as the divorce papers started to process.

You were alone, you couldn’t deal with the loss of your child. You sat alone at a pond and cried until you couldn’t cry anymore.

Jaehyun knew your time was running out, he knew you’d pass and eventually come to him to live with him in the dark world.

Your heart breaks and you die of sadness at the edge of the pond.

Your soul slips away from your body.

Jaehyun is there watching as you stare down at it in confusion.

“Jaehyun?”

“Hello, y/n.”

“Where am I?”

“You’re with me now, where you should be.” He smiles as he goes to take your hand, but his hand passes through.

Jaehyun looks in confusion at his hand.

“Can you see me?” You ask.

“Of course I can. I should be able to touch you too, but..” he turns away and looks at his hand which is still vibrating like it had just been shocked with electricity.

“What’s happening?”

He turns back to you, but you’re gone.

“Oh, Lucifer..” a male voice calls out to him.

“You thought you had it all figured out, didn’t you? You would have her die then bring her to hell to live with you forever..”

“Winwin?” He recognizes the angel in front of him.

“I wish I could say it’s nice to see you again, but it really isn’t.”

“What the hell is going on? She’s mine!” He grows angry, his eyes becoming red and his horns growing out in harmony with his black wings.

“No, she isn’t. She belongs with us, remember God will always win.” Winwin smirks.

“No..no they can’t do this to me again!”

“Of course they can! Goodbye, LuLu!” Winwin then spins and disappears.

Jaehyun curses and shouts loudly, so loudly that the heavens can hear him. You can hear him, but now you realized who he really was and why he was so infatuated with you. It broke your heart that he went to such lengths to hold onto you, but now you knew that he was nothing but evil.

Jaehyun could feel you, he could sense you everywhere and sometimes he could see you, but he could never touch you again. He would have to live eternally as a tortured individual that lost his love 3 times.

“Well, at least you have the child.” Lilith looks at her nails as Jaehyun thrashes about in hell.

“What will you name him?”

Jaehyun smooths his hair back and walks to the crib that the baby sleeps in. “His name..is Cain.”

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numberonephantompizza1 · 3 years

Text

Poppy Fanfic: “Ask Her”

For context: This is a fanfic I wrote in order to join the Poppy Milk dev team and show off my writing skills. Since the callout at the time said we’d need to write a lot of sidequests, I wanted to ask the question of what a Poppy-centered side-quest would be like. I got the idea that it would be from an Asker’s perspective, and everything sort of came naturally after that. Even though I’m on the dev team right now, it’s not canon to Omega Timeline: Poppy’s Story and even has some inaccuracies that contradict canon. With that said, please feel free to read the story below the cut.

---

You noticed something very different inside your room when you woke up. The lights were off and the sun hadn’t yet risen, but there was a certain… aura, coming from your door. You were filled with a certain trepidation, but… you approached it. It was hard to see in the light, but it looked… grey.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stepped through...

...and found about the last person you would’ve expected. The spitting image of Frisk - CORE!Frisk, that was, looking up at you, in the middle of a white void.

“Wh- You’re real?!” you asked, dumbfounded.

“Of course I’m real. Have you been taking all this multiverse stuff for granted? Everything is real somewhere,” Core answered, simply.

“I… I don’t… and you, me…” you panted, starting to feel a small panic attack coming on.

“Focus,” Core snapped their fingers, grounding you back in reality. Okay, this was happening now.

“Let’s get down to business. Simply: you don’t like me. And I don’t like you. But we BOTH like Poppy. Poppy, my dear, sweet angel… has unfortunately recently come to the realization that Askers ALSO exist in the multiverse. And now she wants to do a ‘meet n’ greet’ with one of her fans. Trust me, I TRIED to talk her out of it, but she can be darn persuasive when she wants to be. And as you’re now realizing, that’s where you come in.

“I wanna make you a deal. You play along with whatever Poppy wants until she gets bored of this. If you’re on your best behavior - and that means, don’t give her anything bad, don’t tell her anything you KNOW she shouldn’t know, don’t use any magic, and be a general good influence - if you play nice, in exchange, I will allow you to hang out with ANY resident of the Omega Timeline.

“Want to spend a day full of wacky hijinks with a Papyrus, or even an Underswap Sans? Consider it done. Want to know how Deltarune Chapter 2 plays out ahead of time? I know a Susie with your name on it. Whatever you want, so long as you play by the rules, and don’t ask for anyone obviously ridiculous. So… do we have ourselves a deal?”

You contemplated that offer, and everything that was happening, trying to suppress your inner urge to geek out for just a few moments. The Omega Timeline, Poppy, and all the AU’s you could think of and more were real. And you just got an invitation to visit them.

“Yeah, of course!” you nodded excitedly, though your enthusiasm only seemed to make Core more anxious.

“Don’t make me regret this…” Core sighed, as the whiteness seemed to melt away into a cozy-looking house with wooden floors and lime walls, where you were standing directly outside of a white door. Core seemed to have disappeared.

Technically, there was nothing stopping you from exploring. So you did just that. You walked up to a shelf with some family photos. One was a photo of Poppy, Core, Dusted and Rust all together, in some meadow, looking happy. At least, you assumed Dusted and Rust were happy, they didn’t show up well on camera. There was another photo of Poppy alone, looking somewhat younger than she did on the blog, seated on a chair in a photo that looked far more staged. She held an actual poppy flower in her hand and smiled brightly.

You opened the cabinet doors, curious of what knick-knacks you might find in there. Some crayons, a few random glass cups, some art by 3-year-old Poppy that was so poorly done its meaning was hard to decipher, and a locked box. You reached for the box--

“Getting a bit sidetracked, aren’t we?”

You jolted up, and faced Core behind you. Even though they were child-sized, they crossed their arms with the poise and authority of a stern parent. You laughed anxiously. “Ahahaha… ahaha… ha……..”

“...Strike one.” Core said, and vanished. The meaning of that was all-too clear. Deciding not to dilly dally any longer, you went to the room you suspected to be Poppy’s, and knocked.

“Just a sec!” Poppy said, and opened the door. She looked up at you, and gasped. “Wow, Granpa really did come through…!” She twirled excitedly. “You must be my adoring fan, aren’t you?” she asked.

You stared down at the girl in stunned silence.

“To be honest, I kinda figured you’d be some gray guy with sunglasses, but that’s kinda silly in hindsight. How you doin’?” She asked that last line in a mock accent as you continued to stare.

“Baby,” you said.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you quickly tried to change the subject. “Yeah, it’s… y’know, it’s great to be here…” You clasped your hands together, biting your lip. You were in an Undertale AU, faced with the AU granddaughter of another AU character. You still weren’t entirely over that. Was this fever dream? Fandom heaven, or fandom hell?

“I know! Once I heard you guys weren’t from the Omega Timeline, I realized I hadn’t met even ONE of my fans… even if you guys are super annoying some of the time.”

“Uhhh, yeah…” you wondered if you should apologize on behalf of the askers who put Poppy in the hospital that one time. Then again, it seemed kind of awkward, and it might have been best not to bring that up while Core was watching, which was always. Looking down at the cutesy girl, it was almost tempting to pull her into a hug, but you managed to keep your composure.

“I wanted to do something a little more special than just some sorta interview, though, because you ask me questions all the time anyways,” Poppy said. “Granpa said you’ve never been to the Omega Timeline before, so I wanna give you the big tour!” Poppy went to the door. “I’m gonna be outside when you’re ready!” She left the room.

Seeing the empty room in front of you, you were tempted to snoop again, but you’d learned your lesson after last time. You headed straight out after Poppy.

You couldn’t help but gasp in awe of the serenity of the great outdoors as you were beckoned to it. You’d been outside before, obviously, but everything just looked so… nice. The blue sky, the grassy grounds, the ornate buildings… you’ve seen this place in pixel art and a couple drawings before, but seeing it with your own eyes was another story. And the next thing for you to nearly faint at was seeing the Undertale characters running around, Sanses, Undynes, Frisks, even goat moms.

Poppy smiled. “...It’s nice, isn’t it? I KNEW taking you on a tour was a good idea.” She smirked. “Now remember, just because this is a meet-up doesn’t mean it’s free, and there WILL be a fee at the end of our ride.”

“...Uh… I left my wallet at home,” you said, patting your pockets, “And I don’t have any, uh... ‘G,’ I think. Unless the G stands for ‘Gratitude,’ amiright?” you did finger guns.

“G stands for Gold,” Poppy corrected you bluntly, unamused. She returned to her chipper attitude just as quickly, though. “Now, let me show you around!” She led you down the street.

Walking with her, seeing so many versions of your favorite characters in the flesh, walking around… well, the temptation to talk to SOME of them was irresistible, Core be damned. You did resolve not to go too far off-track, but you shared some words with the folks you passed by, Poppy thankfully stopping each time you did. You met two Frisks - one boy, one ambiguous - an Underswap Undyne, a human version of Toriel, and surprisingly, a version of Princess Peach.

You and Poppy approached an elegant fountain, stood upon proudly by a statue of a mustachio’d CORE!Frisk. “This is the Timeline Plaza! It’s sort of the local park, where people meet up to do... stuff. Just hang out. Make a picnic. Play ball. All that good park-y stuff, y’know? And there’s stores in all directions, so it’s pretty good.” She proudly showed off her home to you, with a smile.

You talked to more on the way to the next place. An Inverted Fate Papyrus. A weird Ralsei who said his name was “Noyno.” An Asgore wearing a hoodie, who you assumed was swapped with Sans. (Poppy did scold you a little bit for this, telling you that just because someone has a hoodie you shouldn’t assume they’re swapped. You apologized.)

“This is Grillby’s! One of them, anyways. The nearest one to my house. It’s pretty good if you want an OK burger. Sanses love the place, though. It’s… kind of unhealthy. And a little gross.” Poppy said. “Especially when they just drink… raw… ketchup.”

“Can’t handle a little ketchup?” you smiled mischievously. “We drink it by the gallon back in my universe,” you lied.

“...I really hope you’re joking,” Poppy said, alarmed.

“Am I?” you smiled brighter.

“...W-well, we’re not going in there, so you can FORGET about drinking that much ketchup!” Poppy said, afraid of the sheer power of your ketchup-drinking.

You and Poppy moved onto the next spot. You met an Underswap Alphys who seemed to be trapped in a red-and-gold palette. You met a robot dressed as a circus ringmaster, who claimed to be a Chara. You met a Dummy dressed in a Frisk shirt. (You didn’t assume it was swapped with Frisk this time, which turned out to be a mistake, because it was.) Poppy stared at you awkwardly now, wondering why you were talking to all these random strangers. Finally, you and Poppy reached your next destination.

“The theater! Where we show off all the greatest hits! Including MY movie, which, not to brag, but it’s--”

Except, you’d been distracted by a hyperdeath Asriel, and were ignoring Poppy for the moment.

“...” Poppy spoke up. “That’s what I don’t get about you.”

“Huh?” that seemed to wake you up, and you looked at her.

“Everytime it’s always, ‘have you met Underswap Sans,’ or ‘have you met JangoTale Frisk,’ or some other weird thing. You always ask that. But… they’re just people. Why do you always assume I know some random Sans or Frisk or someone?”

“I…” you were a bit taken aback. “...I don’t… we don’t assume you know them, they’re just… they’re just important.”

“Important?” She asked. “...I-I mean, yeah, EVERYONE’s important, but, I don’t really get what you mean…”

“They’re all--” You paused, trying to collect your thoughts, think of everything you knew from the blog, and tried to actually talk to her. “...They’re like friends to me. Kinda.”

“...You guys are friends with them? I thought you were stuck in your world…” she frowned.

“No, it’s like-- I’m not ‘friends’ with Underswap Frisk, or-- or Storyshift Frisk, or Shifty or whatever, I’m just friends with… Frisk.”

...Poppy stared at you like you just said the ground was turning to jelly, or something equally bafflingly inane. “...I… think you’re confused. Look, sometimes newcomers struggle with this. Your Frisk isn’t the only Frisk--”

“I know! It’s… You don’t get it. This world, these worlds are so special and creative, and they mean a lot to me. I know we can be really edgy, and I know we ask weird questions about Dusted and Rust, but that’s all because… because...” you paused.

Poppy looked, seeming upset about hearing her siblings mentioned in the context of ‘edgy’ questions, not seeing what you were seeing. Core, standing behind her, holding up a hand signal.

The number two.

You were getting carried away. You overstepped.

“...Um… I’m sorry.” You pulled her into a hug as Core vanished. “There’s really no reason for us to ask those questions. We can just be dumb sometimes.”

“...” She hugged back. “Yeah, it’s okay. I knew you guys were super weird and dumb before I convinced Granpa to let you in here, so I guess I should’ve seen this coming,” Poppy smiled, regaining her confidence as you did your best to not be offended at being called weird and dumb.

“Okay! I think I have just one last stop in mind to cap this tour off on a high note! Literally, hehehe…” She giggled mischievously. This time, you didn’t stop to talk to others, following her directly as you approached a peak overlooking the town. For yet another time, and probably the last, you couldn’t help but ogle at the town’s beauty. “Pretty good, right?” She sat down.

“Ha… with all the climbing, I was worried we’d fall down a mountain,” you joked. Poppy seemed to roll her eyes, as you sat beside her. “...I guess I get how you can call this place home. I mean, once I stop nerding out, anyways. You don’t see stuff like this in my… reality.”

“Just gallons and gallons of ketchup, huh?” she commented. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah.”

And you two just stared into the distance for a while. ...She wasn’t just a character. She was a human being.

...Or, technically just a ‘being,’ scratch the human part. Still, you felt a bit desensitized to all this. And so did she. You related in that way.

“I can’t say you exactly passed with flying colors, but you fulfilled your end of the agreement well enough.”

Without any warning, you were back in a white void with CORE!Frisk, just like before. You almost forgot about the deal you made, what with all the time you spent with Poppy. You stood.

“Uh… yeah. So, my reward…” you drifted off, remembering the offer Core gave you. The chance to meet just about any AU character of your imagining… or at least, any that would be peaceful enough to be in the Omega Timeline. Which still left a WIDE variety of options…

Who did you want to see? What mattered most to you?

...

Thinking deeply… you told Core their name.

“...Oh. Really? Well, I guess it makes sense for you that you’d want to see them,” Core remarked. “I can’t guarantee they’ll give you what you’re looking for, but a deal’s a deal. Let’s head off.”

You and Core went somewhere else.

---

And that’s all she wrote! If you read this far, thank you. Working on the game since then has been fun, and I think you’ll like what we have in store. Until then, ciao.

#undertale #omega timeline #poppy's story

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honeybinnies · 5 years

Photo

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦. — a skz multi-ship one-shot wherein ten friends take a trip to a cabin, and go wild with a game of spin the bottle, and seven minutes in heaven.

pairings: seo changbin, lee felix + reader, kim woojin, bang chan + kim seungmin, lee minho, han jisung + hwang hyunjin

additional characters: yang jeongin (bc hes babie)

rating: E (explicit) for sexual content and vulgar language

word count: 3.3k words

note: @changlixfucker69 come get yall juice i hate u for making me die several times while doing this

thanks for 500+ followers! this is what i had in store for u guys, so i hope doing this one-shot did you justice! for a better experience, have this, this, and this song for,,, you know,,, the adventure

“YOU KNOW WHAT FUCKIN’ SUCKS?” Felix hollered over to the living room where the rest lazed, either tapping away on their phones or having some minimal conversation about how the weather was, or the classifications of goats’ cheese around Europe. Despite the coziness in the cabin they settled in for the next few days, unpacking was never a forte within them. They would only catch you, Woojin, Chan and Seungmin moving about, unloading baggage and settling down in the wooden house. The rest were unproductive, as usual.

Felix groaned at the lack of response, gripping his hand tighter on the doorknob. He didn’t stop complaining, nonetheless, and shut the bathroom door as loud as he could. “When people leave their drips of pee on the bowl, and never even bother to clean it up after! I mean, think of the other bathroom users who actually care about sanitation.” Snappish, he rubbed his hands clean with sanitizer from the countertop, and flopped right beside an uninterested Jisung. “Which one of you fuckers had the audacity to break proper bathroom decorum?”

“Calm your ass, Bokkie.” Hyunjin mused, swiping several filters for a selfie he took with the resplendent design of the furnished cabin. “If anybody would do such a thing, it would be Jisung.”

“Excuse me?” Jisung looked up from his phone, disinterest now incredulous. “Why do you always blame me for everything, huh? Just this morning, you blamed me for spilling strawberry milkshake on the seat when it was clearly Jeongin.”

“No, Ji, we all know that was you.” Seungmin remarked, huffing out a small sigh as he placed the rest of the bags on the empty armchair beside Minho. “Could you all please get up and help us four here? [First Name]’s having trouble with the grill!”

“I got it.” Changbin stood abruptly, locking his phone as he did so. The rest could only tease, resonating a sound of “oohs” and whistles that echoed around the cabins of the forest. Changbin, seemingly flustered, looked over to the bunch, and flashed them an easy glare. “What?” He grumbled. “It’s obvious that the girl needs help. It’s a grill.”

“Right, like you should’ve known that earlier.” Minho laughed, quirking an obvious brow at the younger. The rest only snickered at Minho’s retort, obviously enjoying the teasing session they were giving Changbin. It was an inside joke among the guys that you and Changbin were known as the “Romeo and Juliet” of the bunch, knowing the obvious signs of fancy towards you two. Your denials were borderline a pain to hear most of the time, but it’s not like the guys never knew about the secret kisses you two shared when no one was looking, or the whispers of endearments on your ears when it was quiet amidst the night.

The guys were going to deal with another series of these subtleties for the next three days, and they didn’t know whether to cry or to tune into their interest.

Little did they know that a certain person was in quite of a dismal conflict with yours and Changbin’s relationship. As Changbin finally escaped his friends’ constant teasing, Felix followed the older’s gaze as he made his way to the door, eager to help you with tonight’s grilling session. He whipped his head to the side at the thought of the two of you, a small sour pit building on his stomach slowly, but horribly. Unlike Changbin, the greatest hyung to ever exist in his life, you were the first to ever move his heart in any way. You were there for him when he was going through some of the hardest time, you were there when he would ask for some criticism on his dance moves, you were there when he improved himself, made himself a better person. It wasn’t wrong for him to suddenly fall on a crush for you, and if any guy would love you for your looks, Felix loved you for what you’ve made him become. A better person.

Jeongin was the first to notice the pain written across Felix’s features, as the laugh that he emitted died down from the rest, glancing over to the blonde boy with sympathy. He looked over to the door where Changbin once stood, assuming that he was probably helping you with the rustic grill with the marred green edges, and back at Felix, whose company seemed to be bothered at the moment. Carefully, he grazed his palm over Felix’s knee, and sported him a sad smile, one that Felix returned back, if not even more sorrowful than the one Jeongin had. “I’ll be okay.” He mouthed at the youngest, to which the youngest nodded before returning back to the sudden conversation on bugs around the cabin.

“Alright, fellas. Let’s get down to business.” Chan sighed once everybody has settled down. It’s past afternoon, nearing five in the cabin. The “porters” were exhausted in their place, wiping some sweat and grime off their faces as they turned their attention to Chan. He could almost laugh at how tired they must’ve been from the four-hour trip, but that didn’t waver him from the itinerary. “First off, dinner. It’s almost 6PM, so we better start prepping the meat.”

He looked at each one as they turned to face him, faces attentive and ears open. “Secondly, Woojinnie, [First Name], and I set up a bonfire by the backyard—“

“A backyard campfire?!” Jeongin brightened, sparkles twinkling on his eyes. “With the marshmallows and all?”

“Yes, Innie.” Chan chuckled, fond of the youngest. “We’re having s’mores. Lastly,” there was a change of expression on the older’s face, something less calm and more clouded, almost challenging if the guys were to describe it. Dread slowly crept up to their throats, and suddenly, they all wondered if they would like the idea that Chan had in mind.

A deep, almost shy chuckle escaped from Chan’s lips as he brought a hand to his nape, rubbing the base bashfully. “We’re having a game of spin the bottle.”

The entire cabin went silent. All of the guys, including you, stared dumbly at Chan for a good few seconds, processing everything. A game of spin the bottle? How could such a simple, family-friendly game be so…worrisome to the rest. There was a catch, you all thought. There must be a catch. It isn’t just a game of spin the bottle when a person like Bang Chan hosted it—

“Threesome edition.”

Another silence. The air stilled, the stares grew deeper. If you could almost hear the way the gears on your minds were working, they’d be turning fast. Nobody knew what to say. It wasn’t like the bunch has ever done dirty games such as these. Hell, you guys have done the craziest and dirtiest of games, though they were mostly through drinking sessions and foolish, bored times around the dorm or your apartment whenever you’d offer them a 10-person dinner.

A threesome edition, though, was something else, and Felix had the urge to glance at you and Changbin, if not the slightest of peeks.

“Wait,” Seungmin interjected, snapping everyone out from a daze. “A…A threesome? Just how are we going to do that?”

“The way other people have done threesomes.” Chan shrugged, still slightly bashful. No one noted the way Woojin rubbed comforting rubs beneath his inner thigh, hoping to ease the shyness out of Chan. “We can think of something else if you’d like—“

“Let’s do it.” Minho said, suddenly daring. Chan brightened at the younger’s challenged expression, and looked over at the rest, the same look mirroring Minho’s. “You guys up for it?”

“I’ll be the game master.” Jeongin said bluntly, fiddling with a split end of his bangs. “Always have been anyway, since none of you ever really involve me in your slutty shenanigans. Now, let’s eat!” He stood, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m starving over here.”

“This’ll be exciting.” You stood with the rest, patting the dust off the crumbs and specs of the clothed couch. You turned your head over to Felix, who seemed to be the most silent throughout the talk, and nudged your knee on his thigh. “Right, Lix?” He only gave you a spread of a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes, and stood alongside you, patting your shoulder. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

You never understood the emptiness in his usually cheerful voice.

The ten of you didn’t expect the spin the bottle game to be like…this. It was already expected that things would get especially spicy, yet the fate of the bottle spinning towards the groups of three was unexpected, but somehow fated. It was around 10 in the evening, mouths cleaned from the sweetness of the chocolate and marshmallows, and skins fresh from the dirt and hard-work from today’s set up. The each of you knew that showering again would be the best option, so neither of you never minded it. The game was just too interesting.

Here’s how it all went down:

The moment the bottle landed last on Seungmin, everybody guffawed, throwing themselves off their crossed-legged position on the floor or shaking one another by the shoulders. The last man chosen could only blink at the bottle, before staring up at the other two in slight bemusement. Woojin and Chan were flustered as they should, exchanging eye contact with the younger. Surprisingly, Seungmin never minded, and just stood, going to the room.

“Well?” He asked when he turned to Woojin and Chan, who were baffled by his sudden change in demeanor. The rest never knew what happened inside that room once the door was shut and locked, the three inside aware of their time limit. Seven minutes in heaven, that’s all they had, and for whatever’s worth, the rest were curious to what they had in stored for each other, knowing that Seungmin wasn’t the type to be easily persuaded in these events.

Little did they know that Seungmin himself was propped up on an armchair, fingers wrapped around the material of his camera as he captured the scene unfolding in front of him. His photos were skin against skin, tongues tied and saliva slicked, mouths wide open and breathing out gentle moans. Woojin had his cold fingers trailing over the base of Chan’s stomach, his warm lips filled Chan’s neck, peppering, licking, sucking, while Chan’s warm palms roamed past Woojin’s back, smoothing past his skin while he let the older take complete control over him, hitting him in the right spots.

“Don’t mind me, hyung.” Seungmin hummed when he heard Chan moan out his name in question, as if asking him why he wasn’t joining in. He only sunk deeper in the armchair, eyes hooded and voice suddenly an octave lower, and raised his camera, focusing and zooming in on Woojin’s glossed lips on Chan’s chest, the quality coming out dim and golden. “Just have your fun while I’m having mine.”

Jisung wasn’t having it any better too. He was having the best time of his life.

The moment Jeongin set the timer from outside their door, Minho and Hyunjin gave him no mercy. The two had him fisting at the white sheets of the cabin, one that smelled like fresh detergent and a tinge of cinnamon. He had his head thrown back completely, eliciting vocal moans that had the two’s egos boosted way up as they patched every bit of his skin with kisses and bites. “F-Fuck, wow.” Jisung spluttered, jolting in peer pleasure when he felt Minho’s lips travel down to his length, licking the seams of his tip like dripping ice cream.

“You’re wet, Sungie.” Minho chuckled on his tip, staring up at him hungrily as he gave one more lick for good measure. “Hyunnie seems to be doing a good job up there, huh?” Before Jisung could respond, he was left a stuttering mess once more when he felt Hyunjin groan against Jisung’s neck, pleased with the praise Minho gave him. With Hyunjin’s hands brushing past his nipples, and his plump lips pressed firmly against the sensitive spot on his neck, it pissed Jisung off how wet he could already get by just this short form of foreplay. Minho, amused by his speechless response, rose up to kiss Jisung, allowing him to taste a bit of his precum before tilting his head to the mirror.

“Look at you, fucked out already. It hasn’t even been seven minutes, and you’ve already reached heaven.” Jisung could only whimper in response, vision clouded and hazed as he locked gazes with himself in the mirror. Sweat glistened from his body down to his navel, and it showcased a perfect view of Hyunjin’s side profile on his chest, eyes closed and at pure bliss at his own lips on Jisung’s skin. Not to mention, the hooded bangs on Minho’s eyes and the gloss of saliva and cum on his lips didn’t even help Jisung one bit, and he shut his eyes, pleasure enfolding him completely.

“Ahh-ah,” Minho gripped his chin, snapping him towards the wide mirror view. “Keep your eyes on the mirror, Sungie. You need to see how beautiful you look while Hyunnie and I bring you to heaven in the next five minutes.”

Lastly, it all went down to you, Changbin, and Felix. While the rest were unfazed by the pairing, only Jeongin would look over to how surprised Felix’s face was when he knew he was paired with the two of you. With Felix’s heart beating louder and louder, his eyes shone over to the both of you once the door closed, and heard Jeongin count to hammering of his heart on his chest, loud and clear.

“Seven minutes, your time starts now!”

If Felix were to be frank, he didn’t even know what happened after the minutes started ticking down. Firstly, all he ever did was stand here, conflicted and wondering how he was going to go about this entire game without you and Changbin noticing his final moments of sanity. He’s…never really thought about anything exceptionally lewd with you, let alone with his hyung. Well, yeah, sure, he’s had thoughts of kissing you, had thoughts of making out by the couch or by the kitchen countertop, but he’s never thought of an actual threesome.

How would he even make you pleasured? He knew nothing of the sort, unlike you and Changbin, who have probably snuck in a few sneaky touches underneath the shirt or beneath the tables. He wondered how Hyunjin and Seungmin tackled theirs—Seungmin explaining that he took pictures instead—but Felix couldn’t take pictures as good as Seungmin. Would he even have the guts to visualize Changbin and his caressing touches on your skin when all he could ever feel was a tinge of jealousy that churned around his stomach.

Felix wanted to leave, but it was too late. He already immersed himself in this game, and it was getting too addictive to stop.

“That’s it, love.” Changbin whispered on your ear as you moaned to his touch, raking the fingers on the sheets while his hands kneaded your breasts expertly. “Don’t be afraid to let it out, I’ve always adored your voice when you call out my name.” With his fingers trickling up from your lower breasts to your nipples, you gasped when he teased his fingers over your hardened buds, as if waiting for the right moment to pinch.

“B-Binnie, please, I—Lix!” To your surprise, you jolted when Felix had your legs spread wide and his face locked in between your legs, peppering gentle kisses on your damp heat. His fingers were splayed perfectly on your inner thighs, rubbing circles that stimulated your arousal. He didn’t know what went over him, honestly, but everything about you enticed him; your moans, your beautiful face glistening with sweat from the sex filling the room, and the way your legs were spread nicely, caging his head in place whenever the ghost of his tip ran over your folds, making you shiver in pleasure. It was an urge, he thought to himself, and he’s glad that he took the chance when he had it.

“I’m sorry, was that too much?” Felix pulled away, quirking a brow at your reaction. He could almost smirk when he heard a whine escape your lips, as you shook your head dismissively through the various kneads of Changbin’s fingers on your hardened buds. “N-No, you’re good you’re—you’re great…”

Satisfied, and so full of himself, Felix grinned at the praise you were giving him, and dived his head back down, positioning himself once more between your legs, glancing up at you ravenously. “Tell us how good we’re making you feel, love.” Love, since when has he ever called you that? “We want to hear how good we’re making you feel.” This is too overwhelming, but too exciting at the same time. The thrill is setting him on fire, and it doesn’t take rocket science to know that the words that spilled out your lips next sent him to heaven faster than you and Changbin could ever reach.

So, with his tongue swirling expertly on your heat, taking in your leaking cum by each time his tongue presses on your clit, his eyes flutter shut at the sensation of eating you out, humming by the shiver and throb of your skin on his lips. He groaned when your fingers began threading to his hair, tugging and pulling at the roots, taking him deeper, filling his tongue all across your core. Your moans have grown excessively louder, and each stimulant on your neck from Changbin’s bites and your throbbing core made you want more, more, more. You stuttered a breathy whimper when you spread your legs wider, giving Felix better access to roam his tongue all over your core, and the single finger of his hand to slip inside you, pressing twice on your clit to have him enjoy his course. Everything was in pure bliss for the three of you, and you three weren’t even aware that knocking resounded on the door, four knocks too long.

“You guys!” Jeongin huffed impatiently. “It’s way past seven minutes, get out of there!”

“Let them be, Innie.” Jisung patted the youngest on the shoulder, face spread into a sympathetic look as Jeongin turned to face him. “[First Name] and Changbin have never gone this extreme before, and it’s Felix’s first time to even touch a woman. Give them seven more minutes.”

“Or an hour.” They could hear Changbin hoarse out through the door, leaving the rest silent in their place. Sullenly, they sauntered back to the couch, and settled in complete silence as they regarded your vocal moans and Felix and Changbin’s words of praises as music to their ears, except for Jeongin, obviously.

“I can bet you Bokkie dommed the shit out of [First Name]!” Hyunjin exclaimed, listening in more to the way Felix begged for your praises. The rest seemed to agree with him, eyes up and focusing on the lewd shouts resonating from the third room to the right. They didn’t notice Jeongin ghosting a smile from the kitchen, his back faced from his friends as he prepared himself a midnight snack. Perhaps Felix has realized something from this silly little game that his hyung prepared in their three-day trip, and even if it meant taking him days to open up to you and Changbin about it, at least this should knock some sense into him. Never mind how weird the circumstance is, just let Felix be the judge of that.

“Third time’s a charm.” Jeongin mumbled to himself, sipping his cup of hot chocolate before going back to his group of friends, who were currently betting over who got to pleasure you better.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids scenario #stray kids oneshots #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz #honbinnies writes #FONKING DEAD THIS WAS 3K WORDS LONG MARTY #someone hold me im super fucked out #i hope this did u thirsty stans justice #i was thriving w the rest of the member pairings tho like y E s #id like to thank my irls bea and tin and my wifey sol #and my precious jisung stan cara for supporting me thru this #ily guys :--((

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subukunojess · 4 years

Text

On The Edge of Living (Ch 1)

Archive of Our Own / DeviantArt / FanFiction

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical

Word Count: 5,511

Content Warnings/Awareness: Death, Blood, Possible Gore, Mentions of Abuse, Smoking, Suicidal Themes, Giant, Tiny, G/T, People, objects, and animals are getting eaten, Vore (don’t know whether to tag it as such), Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Found Family, Friendship, just everything is wild.

Pairings: Charles/Delia, Past Charles/Emily, hints of Beetlelands, hints of Lydia/OC

Summary: AU. Lydia Deetz knew her life would turn upside down when she moved to a supposed haunted house with her father and life coach. What she didn’t expect were two actual ghosts living in her attic or being cursed to be bound to a demon sealed in some ancient spell book.With a growing emotional demon by her side and the afterlife betting on their future, Lydia will travel from Hell and back to break the curse and find out where she belongs… if her new town doesn’t end up being rampaged first.

Here’s my entry for the Beetlejuice Big Bang!

This was a surprise project I decided to take on when I saw it on my dash and I wanted to challenge myself writing with word count in mind. I knew I wanted to write a Beetlejuice AU with a tiny Lydia and a giant Beetlejuice, so I worked from there. I also wanted to challenge myself by planning and organizing my story ahead rather than take it chapter by chapter. Although it’s been difficult, I managed to pass the required 10 K mark and plan out the gist of my story. As of now, I have the chapters figure out and I have at least 20 K, but at the moment I have three completed chapters. I hope to work on the fic during my free time.

Thank you, @beetlejuicebigbang for giving me the opportunity to do this! Without further delay, here’s the first chapter of my fic:

Chapter 1: The Curse Begins

In life, people say that only death is certain. For the afterlife? Eternity, any suffering of some kind, and the places the dead end up. Depending on the soul and the circumstances of someone's death, a person could be sent to a variety of realms. There were different versions of Heaven, Hell, Limbo, and in some cases, a holiday world. This tale in particular resides in the living realm, Hell, and the Netherworld.

There were two major details that the living didn't know about the afterlife. The first one was that the Netherworld was like a creepy airport for the recently deceased, only that it was really a dark abyss that led to who knows where with no way of telling where anyone would end up.

The second thing? Demons are really huge compared to humans, dead or alive. In the living realm, they blended with humans physically to make situations easier. But in Hell? A demon's true height could range between seven feet to hundreds of feet tall. And Hell wasn't just a cavern of fire and brimstone either. It was the dark, grimy underworld of a city where slum lords lurked in the alleys and the air was polluted with a fiery, red haze. It was nine circles of everlasting torture ruled by cardinal sins and vices. And for a certain demon who spent most of her afterlife in the Netherworld, it was an empty and bleak waiting room in a large office building with the walls decaying and the air smelling of burnt socks.

Juno Shoggoth scowled as her heels clacked against the tiles of the hallway, walking to the waiting room while trying not to hunch over as usual. Once she had signed in with the receptionist, she took her seat and briefly pulled the cigarette out from her lips, letting the smoke ooze out from the slit on her neck.

"Why did he have to call a meeting now of all times?" Juno hissed, crossing her legs. "Doesn't he know my work schedule in general?"

As director of Netherworld Customs and Processing, it was her job to make sure that the transition from life to the afterlife went smoothly for the dead. Sure, the work was tedious and the woman would rather smoke for eternity than deal with tiny annoyances, but she was assigned to the position not by choice. She literally and figuratively grew from a civil servant spirit to a powerful demon overnight; one of her proudest achievements she had to admit.

Her biggest mistake was Lawrence.

Lawrence Betelgeuse Shoggoth. Just thinking about his name made her blow another smoke ring and want a shot of alcohol. Like most other demons who were born dead rather than turned into one, Betelgeuse appeared after Juno had affairs with a demon and the demon left. She didn't like children to begin with, let alone raising something that acted like one. Regardless, she didn't have a choice either when a dead-born was involved. Dead-borns were powerful shifters with abilities no one dared imagine and capable of changing their size more smoothly than regular demons, hence the curses placed on them and the mandatory supervision. If every realm in existence turned upside down and the blame traced back to Juno, she would never hear the end of it.

"Lucifer is ready for you now, Miss Juno!" The receptionist's shrill, but deep shriek interrupted her train of thought.

"It's about damn time." Juno muttered under her breath as she threw her cigarette away and stood up. A red line of energy was drawn in front of the demon out of nowhere before splitting in two and opening as a doorway to Lucifer's office. She walked through the portal, the line disappearing as soon as she entered the room. Although she got used to the afterlife, Juno would admit that she didn't know whether it was a relief or unnerving that the room was a typical office one would expect a boss to reside in with a chair and desk, save for the hazy landscape of hell on the other side of the window in front of her. At this point, she didn't even bother wondering.

"Have a seat, Juno." A deep, gruff voice commanded from a leather swivel chair in a calm tone, causing a slight echo in the room. Juno sat on the wooden chair without fanfare, glaring at the window.

The ruler of Hell was arguably the most massive demon ever known, probably rivaled by Leviathan if they got into a mood. Big horns? Monstrous? Usually dwelled at the very bottom of Hell? Most of the rumors were true along with the fact that everybody knew not to mess with him unless they had a wish worse than death. Despite such knowledge, Lucifer appeared from the swivel chair on the other side of the desk, much smaller than normal and dressed for business. A simple black suit and dark red tie with golden cuff links. Dark grey medium length hair with large twisted horns of ivory adorned on top of it. Yellow eyes with pupils akin to a goat's narrowed as he fixed his collar and cleared his throat.

"I have a feeling you know the reason why I called you here." Lucifer stated, raising an eyebrow. Juno returned the action.

"You usually don't call me unless A) you’re redesigning the Netherworld in some way or B) Beetlejuice is involved. Something tells me it's the latter."

"Come on, Juno. Don't sound like I keep calling you because of that! You're a good worker. No nonsense. Telling it like it is while sorting out the souls. You're one of the few demons I could tolerate." When Juno didn't respond, the ruler of Hell continued.

"I just wanted to discuss what our plans are for Lawrence in the future, that's all." Lucifer shrugged. "Just to prevent repeated offenses from happening. Despite his... flaws, your son still has potential. Deceit. Torture. Power that some dead-borns don't have. I wanted him to become an official exorcist demon, but you insisted on having him as a Netherworld guide instead, even though he hasn't done it properly in centuries!" He brought a fist down onto the desk, the whole room seeming to tremble at the action.

"With all due respect, sir, we cannot give any more power and ego than the fool believes he has." Juno hissed as she pinched the bridge of her nose briefly. "If we do, both the Netherworld and Hell would be in shambles. And I believe you just want him to annoy one of your own headaches."

At that, both demons glared at each other and crossed their arms as they leaned forward. They stared at each other down for a while until Lucifer pulled back up with a sigh.

"... You're smarter than I thought." Ignoring the woman's tiny smirk of victory, Lucifer turned his back to her as he stared at the hazy city before him.

"You're not wrong. You got Lawrence and the Recently Deceased, I got the souls of the damned and the other cardinal leaders bothering me. Beelzebub especially. Always gloating that he's more powerful and mainstream than the rest. I figured that if he's with someone just as annoying as him, he'll settle down and we both get them out of our businesses for at least a decade or two. Maybe a century if we're lucky."

Juno scoffed. "That's going to be a problem since I banished mine to the world of the living."

"And how's that going for you?" Lucifer glanced back at the director, almost knowingly. "Knowing him, he'll find a way back to the dead. He always does."

“I can assure you that Lawrence is stuck at the surface with the living and suffering for it.”

Meanwhile in one of the several downtown areas of Hell, something was going down on one of the top floors of a ten-floor apartment.

In front of the building was a black Mercedes Benz with a fly painted on the hood, idle as the driver waited for someone. Inside the car, black sharp nails drummed against the wheel at a scattered and quick pace while the owner of said nails exhaled a buzzing breath.

“Why is he taking so long? There won't be much time left!” The driver growled in a high baritone voice that sounded as if it were melting like butter. His unruly, spiky orange hair seemed to hover over his pointed ears as his bright orange eyes narrowed at nothing specific on the street. He was tall, had dark tan skin, and a bit chubby around the edges with a pot belly held back by a sleeveless maroon shirt and ripped black jeans. The large fly wings on his back hummed against the seat, almost impatient. It was supposed to be a quick stop of supplies and nothing else. What was going on in there?

Just then, there were some muffled shouts until someone burst out through the front door lugging an overfilled burlap sack over their shoulder. The demon was a bit more than five and a half feet tall with golden eyes, pale skin, and wild green hair along with some yellow strands popping out. They wore a dusty dark grey coat over their black and white striped suit and green tie.

They then exclaimed in a masculine, gravelly voice as they scrambled into the front passenger seat, "Step on it, Bee!"

"It's about time!" The orange-haired demon groaned in relief as he slammed the accelerator and the car sped off, causing the other to almost fly out to the backseat, but he held on.

“What took you so long, Beetlejuice?! I’ve been waiting here for decades! Did ya get everything?” Bee inquired with a smile.

Beetlejuice chuckled and nudged an elbow to Bee, “It hasn’t been that long and you know it, Beelzebub. I should know; I’ve been waiting for centuries. And it isn’t my fault this time! A couple o' demons were late, some of the items were wrong, and I kinda-sorta pissed some of the demons off with a femur. Don't ask."

“Damn… my bad. We wouldn’t have taken this detour if dear old Satan and the rest of my ‘family’ didn’t seal some of my powers away! You take over a few séances and possess a large group of people for three weeks and suddenly, you’re the bad guy!” Bee snarled and shook his head before making a sharp left turn at an alley once he saw some shadows at his rear-view mirror.

“I know, right?” Beetlejuice scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Sounds just like my mom. ‘Beebleboose, stop bothering the recently deceased and get a job!’”

Beelzebub laughed as he elbowed the dead-born demon, the yellow colors fading back to green. “See? We get each other, BJ! The only other demon who gets me would be my twin, but he’s more about locking his stash away and never using it. Not us. We gluttons know how to have a good time! Why don’t you move down here for the rest of eternity? We could be neighbors, roommates even!”

"As much as eternal suffering sounds awesome, it kinda loses its touch after a while, ya know?" Beetlejuice leaned back in his seat. "Doesn't it get boring torturing and killing souls over and over and they always come back? It's gettin' to a point where everyone expects it. I just wanna get out and have my kind of fun for a change! I wanna be with the living! I don’t want anyone or anything tying me down ever again."

"I hear ya, Ant-Wine. There's just something about the living that's so damn addicting. And I ain't just talking about tastes either! Why do you think I keep risking my existence for the biggest gluttons out there? And what's your job on the surface again? It sounds hilarious!"

"A bio-exorcist. Y'know how the living try to take out demons? I, a demon, take out the living for the dead." Beetlejuice jerked a thumb to his own chest with pride, then shrugged after thinking about it. “Granted, I can’t affect the living and I’m getting ghosts to make the living say my name, but it’s a good gig.”

“Well, ya don’t need to worry about that anymore once we get to the spot!” Bee assured him as he checked to see if anything else were following them, then sighing when they were in the clear. “I got some of my followers on the surface getting themselves into position. When we get there, I possess the leader, say your name three times, and we both get summoned into the land of the living. We scare and eat as much as we want, grow as we please, and we split the world and possibly the universe fifty-fifty!”

“Eighty-twenty.” Beetlejuice challenged.

“Seventy-thirty.”

“Sixty-forty, plus I get a Broadway musical and say-so on the merch!” The green-haired demon pointed finger guns at the other while winking.

“Deal!” Both demons shook on it.

“Ay dios mio, is that what you were planning all this time?!” A tiny, muffled voice squeaked all of a sudden that almost made the two demons jump. Hearing the source near him, Beetlejuice blinked and glanced down at one of his shirt pockets. He reached to open it when a small head poked out of the pocket. A blueish-green head with long red hair that Beetlejuice recognized from anywhere.

"Teresa?! What are you doing here?" He exclaimed as he almost fell backwards in his seat. The woman in question stood up from her spot in the pocket and lifted her arm to point up at him.

"I could ask you the same thing, mi canalla! Here I am, riding and sliding in your pocket instead of taking my well-earned, once-in-a-death time break! Do you know how much paperwork I needed to file to get it approved?!" Teresa scolded while almost ripping strands of her own hair out, then sighed as she pinched her forehead and muttered in Spanish briefly. "I saw you leaving the Netherworld and I got worried, so I followed you and hid in here while you shifted."

At that, the dead-born demon scowled and crossed his arms. "There's nothin' ta worry about. I'm fine on my own!"

Beelzebub glanced from the wheel to see the tiny spirit and gave a slight smirk, reaching to poke her with his pointer finger. "Huh... So your guardian ghost is Miss Argentina?" At that, Teresa snapped her fingers and pushed the large appendage away.

"That's Miss Teresa Maria Argentina to you, buster! No touching!" She craned her head up to the giant that carried her. “Who does this guy think he is, anyway?”

“This guy is the demon prince of Gluttony.”

Teresa scoffed, then did a double take and stared at Bee again. "Huh. Not what I expected for the king of all pigs."

"La adulación la llevará a todas partes, Señorita. And there's more to gluttony than just eating." The demon crooned, focusing back onto the street. “We’re in the age of excess, honey, and you’re a part of it whether you like it or not.”

“Oh no, I’m not going to be in your little scheme of yours! Which, by the way, will backfire!” Miss Argentina pointed out before crossing her arms in disapproval.

“You can come to the land of the living with us?” Beetlejuice offered with a grin. Before Teresa could reply, both she and the dead-born jolted forward when Beelzebub suddenly on the brakes. The three looked out the window to see an entire row of demons barricading the street. Some demons had motorcycles and their own cars while others stood with their hulking bodies alone. All of them came in different shapes and sizes. A particular demon who looked more like a chubby dragon in form stepped forward from the crow of angry demons.

“Beetlejuice, we got ya surrounded! Come outta the glutton's car. We just need ta talk!” The dragon demon bellowed with a brash voice.

Beetlejuice let out a laugh, his hair turning a bit yellow at the tips as he opened his window and waved. "Heeeeeey, Rosco! How's the femur?" A growl and glare was his only reply.

"Go on ahead! I'll see if I could blow these guys off and contact Mintaka to back us up! I'll catch up with you two when I can." Beelzebub ordered. Without waiting for an answer, he revved up his engine and made a sharp 180 turn. Magma spewed from between the wheels and created a large wave of molten rock, causing the line of demons to scramble away from it.

“Now!” Beelzebub shouted as Beetlejuice's door opened by itself. The ghost didn't need to be told twice. He flew out of the car and landed on his feet before he ran into a nearby alleyway. A few demons and imps who had avoided the magma followed him.

Teresa clung to the edge of the shirt pocket for dear afterlife as her giant mode of transportation moved quickly. Yes, she was dead, but that didn't mean she was immune to pain. It was also a force of habit.

Beetlejuice cursed at himself. It would've been much easier if he were at the surface and he could just teleport himself away. He didn't have that luxury in Hell. Seeing a wired fence up ahead, he had a plan. He pulled at his hair three times as if grabbing something, then he seemed to throw something invisible to his pursuers. All of a sudden, three clones of himself appeared in front of the demons, blocking them from their path as he leapt onto the fence and clambered up to the other side.

"Damn that rat!" One imp exclaimed in frustration. Beetlejuice smirked and continued moving. After a while, he came across an open clearing and an entrance to a burning park covered in glowing stalagmites. They were close to the summoning spot. The ghost with the most cheered, jumping into the air and pumping his fist. Nothing could ruin his moment! He took a few steps forward...

... only to get tackled by a large dust cloud consisting of Rosco and Beelzebub clawing and gnawing at each other. Beetlejuice snarled as his nails and fangs sharpened, trying to push both demons off of him while biting and scratching anyone who came too close. Teresa ducked down to the safety of the shirt pocket, questioning her afterlife choices. The ball of fighting seemed to stop when both Beetlejuice and Beelzebub grabbed Rosco by the shoulders and slammed him to the side of a building.

"Ha!" The two demons exclaimed in victory. The impact was so great, it caused the building to break in half and topple over, hitting the building next door. And the one after that. And the one after that. Soon, there was a giant building version of dominoes falling one by one until it stopped at a particular office building where two demons were having a meeting.

"BETELGEUSE/BEELZEBUB!" Two voices roared suddenly, echoing all over Hell and possibly the Netherworld as well. Both demons in question stood up straight, let go of the dragon demon, and winced in unison.

"Oh crap."

Before either of them knew it, the two demons and the spirit found themselves in Lucifer's domain, tensed and unaware of what would transpire. As Bee got dragged away in chains, Beetlejuice stood in the middle of the hallway and averted his eyes from Juno's sight, his hair and outfit turning a gloomy violet as his wrists shifted from the handcuffs behind him. Teresa stood on the director's shoulder, not saying a word.

"Why doesn't this surprise me one bit?" Juno stated calmly, only to shriek when Beetlejuice opened his mouth to speak. "You damn fool! You couldn't give me just one year of peace without screwing it up!"

"But mom-!"

"BUT NOTHING! I'll deal with you later." Juno raised the palm of her hand, causing Beeltejuice to stumble backwards and freeze. Without delay, she then took out a piece of chalk from her hair and drew a tiny door on the nearby wall. She knocked on the door three times with her pinky and the door opened up to reveal green mist. She then aligned herself so the ghost on her shoulder was in front of the entrance.

"I take it you enjoyed your relaxing break?” Juno asked in a saccharine tone. Not waiting for an answer, she exclaimed. “Now get back to work! We just got a bus load of casino gamblers who are probably going to fight with the football players and do who knows what. And no word of what you saw here to the others, understand?”

"Yes, ma'am." Teresa nodded as she held herself while trying to look as professional as possible. She strutted to the door, but stopped just as she was about to enter. She turned her head to look back at Beetlejuice who tried not to make eye contact with her. With a sympathetic frown, she gave a slight wave and made her exit, the door shutting behind her. Beetlejuice looked to the door and sighed, only to yelp when his handcuffs tugged him forward.

“Come on, Lawrence. Satan’s waiting for you.” Juno ordered, walking ahead past her son. She beckoned her finger and the handcuffs tugged again, forcing Beetlejuice to follow her. They went down the hallway and entered the last room which was filled to the brim with demons and imps like a courtroom. Most of them were either involved with recent events or were nearby. There were conversations between their groups until the Shoggoths entered the room, causing the room to become silent.

Juno took Beetlejuice to the front of the stand where the Cardinal Council sat in tall podiums waiting for him. The Cardinal Council consisted of powerful demons who embodied the seven main cardinal sins known to humans. Belphegor of Sloth was dozing off in his seat. Leviathan of Envy was writing a few notes to themselves. Asmodeus of Lust brushed his pink long locks with a comb and some help with a breeze he summoned. Mammon of Greed fidgeted with his coins like always. Beelzebub of Gluttony managed a subtle wave to the dead-born. Last but not least, Lucifer stood at the tallest podium. Despite popular belief, he had the honor of having both Pride and Wrath in his repertoire. Nothing changed about him except that he had more fur and goat features at the moment. Beetlejuice took his place in front of the council, but felt the force from his mother staying with him. Once everyone was accounted for, Lucifer cleared his throat and drummed his claws on the podium.

“Out of all the dead-borns we have in Hell and all over, you have got to be the most stubborn pain in the ass I ever met.” He started, glaring down at the dead-born.

"Lucy, hey! How ya doin'? Your horns look extra-curly today." Beetlejuice casually greeted with a wink.

"Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Lawrence." The goat demon deadpanned. Beetlejuice felt his handcuffs tugging him back and he glanced to see his mother's disapproving frown. Swallowing the negativity for now, he returned his attention to the one in charge.

"C'mon, Lucifer. Let's talk demon to demon, huh? Sure, I snuck down here to hang out with one of the most powerful demons in Hell and destroyed a few things, but what demon hasn't?" The ghost with the most laughed and shrugged. "Besides, it's not like the first few times I messed up here."

“Oh, where do I begin with that?” Lucifer asked in a sardonic tone before he pulled out a large scroll from behind his back and unraveled it. The paper dropped on the ground and continued to roll onto the ground, stretching out of the room and seeming to continue rolling. Yellow strands of hair started to appear on Beetlejuice’s head.

“Surely, you must be exaggerating!” An imp who stood below the podium exclaimed in disbelief, leaning over to read the long scroll.

“This is Beetlejuice we’re talking about. Am I? Let’s read a few random ones, shall we?” The ruler of Hell took out a pair of eyeglasses and placed them on before skimming to a random spot on the list. “There was the time that he and another dead-born managed to freeze all of Hell for a while because, and I quote, ‘We need to have a snow day’.”

"We really needed one!" Beetlejuice shot back in defense. "I've seen breathers enjoy those all the time and Mint owed me one!"

Lucifer chose not to answer as he continued, "You let all the hellhounds loose and insisted that Cerberus should go on a 'play-date'."

"Hey, what Spot and I have is something special! They and Sandy would get along great eating souls and all."

"They are MY pet!"

"Eh... you say 'pet', I say 'furry and fun three-headed acquaintance'."

"And let's not forget the 'food' incident when you somehow managed to make the Netherworld smell like coconut, Hell smell like guacamole, and nearly consumed a hundred souls assigned to a specific place in Hell!" Nearly every demonic being in the room shuddered at the memory.

At the last offense, Beetlejuice shuddered as he nodded in agreement. "Okay, now that was a mistake I will never do again. The last time I would ever make anything in the Lust district. We'll leave it at that! No offense, Azzy."

"None taken." Asmodeus muttered from his seat, not knowing whether to bleach the memory from his brain or keep it.

"The point is you've been causing trouble both here and the Netherworld for centuries despite your curse and I'm at my limit for the last time!" Lucifer sneered, rolling the scroll of crimes back up and making it disappear.

The demons, imps, and four members of the Cardinal Council talked amongst themselves. No doubt they were talking about Beetlejuice and how annoying he was. Beelzebub raised his hand.

"Hey, Satan. It was my idea in the first place. B-Juice was just going along with it. Can't we just lock him outta Hell for a while and curse me instead?" The demon of Gluttony offered. The demon of Pride and Wrath glared at him.

"Oh look at you, trying to act all noble!" Lucifer's voice went up a pitch as he clasped his hands in mockery before he dropped the act and adjusted his glasses with a frown, earning a glare from Bee. "Don't play cute with me. He'll just somehow come here and you two will cause mayhem again!"

"You took the words right out of my mouth." Juno commented drily. The mutters and clamor resumed until Lucifer smacked the side of the podium with his tail hard, causing the room to be silent.

"What we need is a more... proper punishment. A curse that'll make sure you get the message through that thick skull of yours." With a wave of his wrist, a hefty folder of papers stamped with Beetlejuice's name on it appeared on the podium. Lucifer then started skimming through the file. This continued for a minute or two until his eyes widened at a particular page. He glanced at the dead-born.

"You're obsessed with humans, right? I believe you call them breathers in the Netherworld. You and Bee have that much in common."

No one said a word. Beelzebub averted his gaze from everyone, sinking into his seat as he wanted to be anywhere but there. Juno blew a smoke ring, keeping her thoughts to herself. Beetlejuice continued to glare at the ruler of Hell from his position. Lucifer placed down the stack of papers and took off his eyeglasses to stare at the other. He was silent for a moment until he gave a slight smirk.

"Since you like breathers so much, I should give you what you want. It is what you deserve, after all." He rubbed his claws against his chest before he pointed one at the dead-born. "Lawrence Betelgeuse Shoggoth, you are still banished to the world of the living and cannot say your true name, but I'm adding a few details so you'll stay put. The first one? I'm sealing you to the one item that'll be your downfall."

Lucifer snapped his fingers and a flame burst up from the ground, forming a specific shape. When Beetlejuice noticed what the shape was, he paled.

"No... Not that. Anything but that!" He exclaimed.

"Oh, yes that. Congratulations, you're going to be... LITERATURE!" The flames died down and a large book with a black cover floated in the air. Upon seeing it, Beetlejuice dropped to his knees and screamed dramatically.

"But I can't spell! You maniac!"

"And that's not all! You will be sealed inside this book for all eternity unless you can bond with a living person. It could be any type of bond as long as it's genuine and strong. I'll add some more rules for you to read at your leisure. Until then, only a breather who can read your book could set you free and we all know the chances of that happening!" Lucifer laughed, causing everyone to join him. He then turned to Juno, raising an eyebrow. "This curse alright with you, Juno?"

"Beetlejuice becoming the very thing he destroys? Now that's something I would like to see." The director of Netherworld Customs almost grinned at that. Her son stared at the ground, the purple on his body and hair getting deeper. Seeing that Juno had no complaints, Lucifer then addressed everyone else.

"All those in favor of turning Betelgeuse into a book and throwing him out, say 'Eye'."

"Eye!" Everyone in the room except Beetlejuice and Beelzebub raised their hands, some of the demons even held up their own eyeballs. Lucifer took a quick scan and grinned.

"It's settled. Majority rules. Time to go. Bye, Bug-Beverage!" With a sadistic glint in his eye, the demon ruler snapped his fingers. The large book floated in the air and opened itself, its pages flipping and glowing until it stopped at the center of the book. Once it stopped, a swirling vortex appeared on both pages, acting as a powerful wind current as chains shot out from the book and connected with the ghost's handcuffs to pull him in. Beetlejuice panicked.

"No, wait! I'll behave, I promise! Not this, anything but this! Satan, the things I do ta get a different beginning from the original source material!" Beetlejuice cursed as he gripped at the ground to hold himself from the wind current and chains pulling at him.. It only increased the suction, causing some demons and imps to brace themselves.

His claws dug deep onto the floor as he was dragged by his chains towards the book. Gritting his fangs, Beetlejuice reached out to Beelzebub and cried out, "Tell my story!" Before the gluttony demon could respond, the ghost with the most was sucked into the book and it slammed itself shut.

Everyone in the room applauded and let out a sigh of relief. With a deadpan expression on his face, Beelzebub got up from his seat.

"Well... that was fun." Bee yawned and rolled his eyes, pointing to the other side of the room. "I'm out!"

"Ah-ah-ah. Not so fast!" Satan crooned and grabbed the orange-haired demon by the shirt collar to stop his escape. "I haven't forgotten about you nor my original plan. Just need to put the finishing touches..."

Without any explanation, Lucifer pulled Beelzebub's arm towards his face and bit at the other's thumb, causing the latter to scream. He then slammed Beelzebub's left hand onto the book. Black blood seeped from the thumb and spread onto the entire book, glowing orange upon contact. When he felt that there was enough, Lucifer took off Bee's hand and waved over the book, causing the glow to fade. With that, the seals were complete.

Having watched everything, Juno stared at the book her son was in, her face expressionless. She then took a drag of her cigarette and glanced away, almost relieved. "Let the living deal with him now."

"Where should we drop 'im, boss?" An imp asked as it hopped next to Lucifer, ready to complete the deed once and for all.

"The one place rarely anyone would find it so easy." The ruler of Hell replied after a bit of thought. "A place no one would ever expect such a powerful book to be!"

Late at night on the surface where the living dwelled, a red portal opened up above the sleepy town of Winter River, Connecticut. The black book fell out from the portal, its blank pages fluttering with the air as the portal immediately closed back up. The book continued to fall until it reached above an old tall house on a hill, going through the roof and landing right inside the attic of the house where it waited for someone, anyone worthy, to open and read it.

#snjstories #snjwrites #fanfiction #Beetlejuice #Beetlejuice the Musical #AU #Giant #Tiny #G/T #Juno #Beelzebub #Lucifer #OC #Beetlejuice Big Bang #Miss Argentina #cw: abuse #cw: smoking #On The Edge of Living

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary -Chapter 11

WARNINGS: some smut, bad language, that’s about it

Tagging: @alievans007, @valkyrie-of-the-light, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

@valkyrie-of-the-light there’s cute Tyler/Esme relationship stuff in here just for you ;)

The kids come running as soon as they hear the SUV pull into the driveway, and he barely has one foot on the ground before they are throwing themselves at him for attention. All three soaked from head to toe, clad in bathing suits and life jackets. Each wanting their hug and a kiss in between talking over each other as they excitedly babbled about Ovi taking them down to the creek out back. It’s normally an area that’s entirely off limits without one of their parents with them, and Ovi looks momentarily panicked at the realization that the kids just completely threw him under the bus.

“Esme said it was okay,” he quickly explains. “As long as they had life jackets on and I was watchful.”

“We’re being really careful, daddy,” Millie chimes in, immediately jumping to the teenager’s defense. “Ovi wouldn’t let anything bad happen to us.”

There are very few people that he actually trusts with his kids. His wife, naturally, Nik and Yaz (the latter is the quintessential uncle that doesn’t waste any time getting down on the floor or out in the muck to play whereas Nik doesn’t like the mess and noise that come with youngsters), and Ovi. He’d trusted him enough that day in the ice cream shop when’d first encountered the stranger from Chicago. He could have easily slipped into Ovi’s side of the booth so he was also facing the door; a rule that he’d developed on the job, as it was easier to assess a situation and thwart off a threat if you were staring it in the face. But he’d let the kid handle. And never once worrying that he couldn’t.

“You guys go on back,” Tyler tousles the twins’ hair, scoops Mille up and gives her a noisy kiss on the cheek before setting her back down again. “I’ll be out in a little bit. I need to talk for your mom for a bit, okay?”

All three nod, then Millie snatches Ovi by the hand and nearly yanks him clear out of his sandals as she pulls him towards the backyard, her brothers happily racing after her.

He gathers paper bags of groceries out of the back seat; using his hip to shut the door. And for the first time in the three years that they’ve lived there, he pauses to set the alarm on the SUV. It has always seemed so secure back where they are; nearly a thousand meters from the road, towering trees surrounding them like an impenetrable wall, no view of the actual house to any vehicles passing by. The remote feeling had been its biggest selling point; no curious eyes checking out the property or looking through windows. A perfect place for a family with a secret like theirs. A secret that came with a lot of burned bridges, revenge seeking enemies, and unknown dangers lurking in the darkness. He’d never once felt unsettled living there; it was their own slice of heaven and a well-deserved break from the craziness that often surrounded them. It was as if those trees and that distance from other humanity made them invincible.

The talk with his mother in law has made him uneasy. The truth was out there now, and while at first his confession had felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted off his shoulders, now it ate away at him. He questions whether or not if had been the right decision; it was something he kept to himself in order to protect people, not deceive them. And the less people who knew about who he actually is, the better.

It wasn’t his safety that he was worried about. He’d long ago discovered that he was more than capable of taking care of himself. It was the safety of those who were most vulnerable. Innocent. Who hadn’t asked to be brought into this world; to have the father that they do. And maybe the mother in law was right. Maybe it is selfish on his part: to bring children into the world while living the life that he does. To leave them alone and vulnerable while he goes off to fight to someone else’s fight. Willingly putting them at risk.

It had never been his attention; putting targets on their backs. He’s always felt as if he’d found that perfect balance between the job and having a family. When he was home that other Tyler didn’t exist; he sat quietly in the background, ready and willing to make an appearance when the time was right. At home he could concentrate on actually being happy, a normal life with a wife and kids and a regular job. No one ever had a reason to question who he was; just seen as a normal guy with a family.

But now the truth is out there. And it doesn’t matter if it’s just one person who knows it or a hundred. The words have been spoken and the confession had come spilling forth and whether he likes it nor, there will be consequences to pay.

There always are.

****

Mac greets him as he steps through the front door, weaving between his legs, tail happily wagging. And after he toes of his boots, he sets the groceries down and crouches in front of the dog; offering belly rubs and scratches under the chin and behind the ears, then giving him a handful of treats from the groceries he’s brought home. Knees cracking noisily as he stands, and he pauses momentarily to lock the latch on the screen door. Something he’s never done aside from at night when everyone heads to bed. And he hates himself for it; for feeling that hint of paranoia that suddenly nibbles away at him.

What the fuck have you done? He thinks, a scowl on his face. What in the actual fuck have you done? As good as it had felt to tell his mother in law the truth, he knows that it was probably the second biggest screw up of his entire life.

His wife is in the kitchen, busying herself at the island as various pots and pans of food bubble and sizzle on the stove. Clad in a t-shirt that’s tied in a knot at her waist a pair of yoga shorts that fit like second skin; every curve of her ass and hips on display, showing off that colourful tattoo that starts at the top of her right foot and wraps its way all the way around her calf and stops just below the knee. Busily and intently chopping vegetables and dropping them into a large plastic bowl, oblivious to anything and everything going around her thanks to the air pods blasting music into her ears. Not even reacting when he drops the bags on the adjacent counter and then stands behind her, placing his hands on her hips and pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck.

She nearly jumps clear out of her skin, and he’s chuckling as she plucks the pods out of her ears and turns around to punch him in the gut. “You scared the ever-loving shit out of me! Jesus Christ, Tyler!”

“You looked totally into whatever you’re doing there and I didn’t want to disturb you. Looking all cute being domestic and shit. I told you I’d turn you into an honest woman.”

“I always knew your devious plan was to keep me barefoot and pregnant,” she says, as she turns back to the task at hand. “Not that the last part is happening right now. But if you have your way…”

“If I had my way, we’d have an even dozen.”

“There is something seriously wrong with you. Whatever happened to ‘once we have the twins, that’s enough. I won’t want any more’?. Because I distinctly remember you saying those exact words. You were perfectly happy with three.”

“That’s until they were born. Once that happened, I changed my mind.”

It is an amazing thing, watching the love of your life growing bigger with your child. And then being able to witness that baby…or babies…being brought into this world. Enduring months of extreme sickness and nearly twenty hours of labour had cemented her status as the strongest, bravest woman…person…he’s ever known.

“What’s going on here?” he asks and helps himself to a piece of cucumber. “You going all Martha Stewart on me?”

“Please,” she snorts. “Martha Stewart I am not. I don’t even know why I’m even feeling so pressed about this. It’s just some random girl that Ovi is bringing over. It’s no one terribly important. Why the hell am I going to so much trouble to impress her? It’s not like I actually care if she likes me or if she thinks the house is clean enough or if she wonders if the kids really are the spawn of Satan. Speaking of which…” she points the knife in the direction of the backyard and continues her rambling. “…if you could actually give your children all a bath when they come in because your sons are starting to smell just as bad as the chickens and the goats and they’re only four and should not smell like you on your worst day. And can you please trim Tyler’s nails because holy shit I don’t know what he does to get all the crap under there but…”

Hands on her hips, he turns her around to face him. Eyes momentarily searching hers before cradling her face in his palms and kissing her. Long and soft. Slow and sweet. Closed mouth upon closed mouth. And he feels all the tension and nerves just escape her body; her muscles relaxing and her hands coming up to rest on his forearms.

“Mmmm…” she’s smiling when it’s over, eyes closed. “...that was nice. What was that for? To get me to shut up?”

“You know me, I would have just told you to shut the fuck up.”

And he has. Many times. The incessant rambling is cute. But when they get into an argument and she just won’t stop riding his ass about stupid shit, well that’s when he gets a little testy. Both have fiery tempers; he takes longer to get to the point of exploding, whereas she just loses it right off the hop.

And neither of them like to back down from a challenge. Or admit when they’re wrong.

“I just wanted to kiss you,” he says, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Do I need a reason to kiss my wife?”

Her eyes are sparkling as she smiles up at him, her hands still on his forearms as she leans back against the counter.

Fuck, she’s beautiful when she smiles. Well, all the time really. But when she smiles there’s just something so different about her. The way her entire face brightens and the bridge of her nose crinkles. And it isn’t just a normal smile. One that she uses with everyone she comes across. No. This is a smile that’s reserved only for him. It’s soft and pure and full of so much love and adoration that it’s almost enough to take his breath away.

“You’re not usually the kind of guy that does things for no reason,” she teases, as her fingertips slowly drift along his arms, all the way up to his elbows and then back down again. Traveling over the top of his hands and along his fingers. “Kiss me again.”

He happily obliges. One hand sliding to the nape of the neck as he pulls her into him. The second kiss quickly transforming into something more; intense and hungry, her tongue aggressively pushing its way into his mouth and her hands moving to the front of his t-shirt, tightly gripping the thin fabric. And this time it’s his turn to pull away first, a smirk on his face.

“You shouldn’t kiss me like that,” he playfully scolds.

“I can’t help it if you’re a six-foot three walking ball of hormones. Besides, I thought you liked when I kissed you like that.”

“I do. But I like it a little too much.”

“How much?” her eyes sparkle mischievously as she brushes a hand over his fabric covered crotch, an eyebrow shooting up as she discovers the truth behind his words. “Well…well…well…” she drawls. “…Tyler Rake…I’m both flattered and extremely impressed.”

“You’re a bad fucking influence,” he smirks, and backs away when she reaches for his belt. “Have you been drinking? Are you drunk?”

“Not yet. But I am ovulating. So…”

“You actually caved and used one of those tests didn’t you.”

“I did. And it says it’s the perfect time. So…” her hand slides up the front of his shirt, two fingers dipping below the waist of his jeans. “...let’s make a baby. Or have fun trying at least.”

“Right now? Like right this second?”

“The kids are outside with Ovi. They won’t come in. We’ll hear them before we do. Get your shit together, Tyler. You should be flattered you have a wife that wants to jump your bones as much as she does.”

“Yeah, I think there’s evidence right there showing how flattered I actually am.”

“If you keep dragging your heels like this, I’m going to get seriously offended. I’m going to think that you’re just not that into me anymore. That maybe you’ve found someone else.”

“Stop that shit. You know that’s not true. There is no one else. There never will be anyone else.”

“Then stop giving me a complex. You don’t want to insult my delicate feelings do you?”

“You delicate?” he snorts. “Excuse me, have we met?”

“You want a baby and my body is saying that now is the prime time,” she slides his belt out of the buckle, fingers on the button of his jeans. “So unless you want totally waste a perfect moment...”

He groans when her hand slips down the front of his pants and his boxers, cupping his thick, hard length and running her thumb over the head. A smirk on her face when she brings her hand to her mouth, eyes never leaving his as she licks the precum off of her thumb.

That’s all it takes. His mouth crashes down on hers, a hand on the back of her head he uses his body weight to propel her across the room and down the hall, his free hand tightly gripping her ass he pushes her into the small spare bathroom.

***

“This might be the only place we haven’t christened yet,” she says, as his lips and tongue feast on the side of her neck and his hands aggressively shove her shorts down over her ass and hips.

“Well I guess that’s about the change. No underwear? Seriously?”

“You can see the lines through these shorts,” she reasons, and then giggles when his arm curls around her waist and he effortlessly lifts her up and drops her on the counter. “That and I was totally planning on seducing you the second you walked in the door. It worked, right?”

“A little too well,” he yanks the shorts down her legs and over her ankles, tossing them to the floor. Leaning over to place soft, wet kisses on her smooth thighs. Dropping to his knees and pushing her legs apart,

“Like I said…” her fingers deftly working at the button and zipper of his jeans. “…six-foot three walking ball of hormones. I really do hope this is your version of a midlife crisis because...” her words are cut off by a long, soft moan as his tongue pushes its way through her moist folds and finds her clit. Suckling and licking at it until her wetness pools underneath and coats his lips and his beard. “…shit…” she breathes, her hands in his hair. “…Tyler…you’re so good at this…so fucking good.”

He pulls back, breathing a cool, steady stream of air right onto her clit, and she cries out and tightens her hold on his hair. Hips sliding forwards, encouraging him to continue. Then mewling with disappointment when he stops all together and stands.

“Tease,” she pouts, and he kicks off his jeans and boxers and once more curls an arm around her waist. Yanking her towards him, a hand on his cock as he guides himself towards her opening. And she gasps at that initial penetration. Even after five years together, that sensation is incredible. The way he feels inside of her; how her muscles have to stretch to accommodate him.

It’s a quick and crude coupling. Her ass in his palms, her forehead against his shoulder, their breathing ragged and their chests heaving as he slams into her. His hand eventually sneaking in between them to rub at her clit as he fucks her. A frantic pace to his fingers, applying just the right of amount of pressure that has her orgasm hitting hard and fast. Her teeth digging straight through the fabric of his shirt and breaking the skin underneath.

“Fuck…” he grounds out, both at the sharp sudden pain of the bite and the way those inner muscles of hers contract around his cock. Thrusts growing erratic and sloppy until his head falls forward and her name escapes his lips and she feels the warmth that baths her insides.

For several minutes neither of them speak. His forehead against her shoulder, enjoying the sensation of her hands combing through his hair. The way she slowly lets those longer strands slip between her fingers. Then he pulls back and kisses her, a grin on his face as he regards her sweaty, glowing face.

“If that doesn’t put a baby in you, nothing will.”

***

“She seems nice,” Esme comments three hours later, as they work together to get the food out to the back deck.

Both are showered and freshened up, her in a cotton sundress with thin straps that crisscross at the back; red with white and yellow flowers, stopping just below the knee. He in a pair of khaki pants (the one she swears hug his ass ‘just right) and a thin button down light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

Chloe isn’t what she expected; a tall, leggy and willowy red head with stunning green eyes, short cropped hair and a killer body that she keeps hidden under modest clothing.

“Did you know she looked like that?” she nods towards the backyard, where their guest is entertaining the kids on the wooden playset. Her laughter -and theirs- floating on the breeze.

“Like what?”

“Like that. I think I have a girl crush. She’s hot! Her body is wickedly good.”

“Do I have to worry about you switching other to the other side?” he teases and leans in to press a kiss to her cheek.

“Who says I haven’t already.”

Tyler’s eyes widen.

“The first year of the Marines was a wild time,” she says in self defense. “I’m starting to understand why Ovi is so caught up. Look how good she is with the kids.”

“She owns her own day care. It’s what she does. You expected her to be terrible with them?”

“I expected her to wonder what kind of feral hellions we raise around here,” she jokes. “They’re savages. Like their father,” she directs a playful elbow to his ribs. “Come on, you can admit it. She’s hot.”

“I’m not admitting to anything. Because right now it might be okay. But tonight, after you’ve got wine in you, there’ll be hell to pay because you’ll freak out about me finding another woman attractive. So I’m not saying shit. I’ve learned to pick my battles.”

“Please,” she rolls her eyes. “I’m not naïve. I know you find other women attractive. The same way I find other men attractive.”

“I don’t want to hear this. I don’t know who you find attractive. Can’t you just let me live in my own happy little world full of denial?” Of course he knows other men…and probably some women…find his wife attractive. But it doesn’t mean he actually likes to think about it. He’d never considered himself the jealous and possessive type. Until her.

“As long as you’re coming to my bed…our bed…that’s all that matters. It’s human nature,” she continues, as she gathers up bowls of food and follows him to the open patio door. “So do you?” she presses, as she follows him outside. Arranging the food on the large patio table. “Think she’s hot?”

“We are not having this conversation. This won’t end well for me. This is not the hill I want to die on.”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” she says, and he grins and leans in to kiss her.

He refills her wine glass, then takes his beer over to the BBQ in the corner.

“You’re kind of sexy,” his wife observes as she joins him, leaning against the deck railing. “It’s hot when you do normal guy shit.”

“Normal guy shit? As opposed to what other kind of shit?”

“Oh you know. Punching people in the throat. Breaking their necks. Impaling them with garden rakes. That side is enormously sexy in a very strange and disturbing way. I should not find that as much of a turn on as I do.”

“You’ve got fucking issues,” he teases, and swigs his beer.

“You think?” her eyes sparkle playfully. “Look who I married. If that doesn’t say issues, I don’t know what does. But I mean normal guy stuff that normal guys do. Fix shit around the house, take out the garbage, kill the spiders, change dirty diapers, play with your kids. That kind of stuff. Play with your meat.”

“What the fuck…” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“I meant the meat you’re cooking. Jesus Christ, Tyler. Get your mind out of the gutter for five seconds, would you?” she sips her wine, eyes narrowing against the sun as she watches Chloe chase the kids around in her bare feet. “She’s like a mix of a Suicide Girl and Mary Poppins. It’s strange and unsettling but amazing all at the same time.”

“You need to get out of the house more. I’m starting to worry about you. Like legit worry. There is something not quite right upstairs.”

“You’re five years into the marriage and you’re just realizing that now? Have you been napping all this time?” she teases. “Ovi seems crazy about her. Look at the way he watches her and hangs on every move. It makes me both nauseous and proud at the same time. Like I’m watching my son become a man right before my very eyes.”

Her son. It’s the first time she’s ever called him that. At least out loud.

“You know who else looks at the woman he loves like that?”

“Please don’t say it,” Tyler begs. “Just don’t.”

“You’re very sensitive when it comes to the feels, aren’t you. You don’t like to talk about these things.”

“I like to feel them. Not talk about them.”

“You’re such an alpha male,” she says, and takes another sip of wine. “You can deny it all you want, Tyler. I know you look at me that way. People tell me all the time.”

“Esme, please. Stop.”

“Everyone notices it. Even Nik. And she hates the feels more than you do. She’s always going on and on about how it’s written all over your face and it’s in your eyes and…”

“Enough,” he silences her with a kiss. “You know I don’t like talking about this kind of stuff.”

It isn’t because he doesn’t feel them. Or that he isn’t aware that it’s all true. But when the reality of those feelings are put out there, a second reality accompanies them: the thought of what would happen and how he would cope if she suddenly ceased to exist. If one day he woke up and she wasn’t there anymore. And it terrifies him. To think of a world without her in it.

Not that he’d ever admit to that, either.

“You know what burns my ass though,” she says. “The way she calls me Mrs Rake.”

“Why? That is your literally your name. You legally changed your last name to mine.”

“It makes me feel so old. I’m not even forty yet. Now that’s old.”

He smirks. “I swear to God, keep it up with the old man jokes and cheap shots and I will you choke you out right here.”

“Like the fun, sexy choking out or the bad choking out?” she counters, giggling against his lips when he kisses her and digs his teeth into her bottom lip. “I wonder how long this will last,” she observes Chloe once again; her and Ovi -with Declan on his hip- hand in hand as they follow the kids over to the chickens and goats. “Maybe they’ll get married.”

“You’ve had what? Two glasses of wine and you’re already talking about this kind of shit?”

“Oh I’m sorry. Old men don’t like to hear about those things. They don’t like to talk about the feels. They think it emasculates them and their wives will start carrying around their balls in their purses.”

He shakes his head, then reaches out and places his hand around her throat. Not in malice. Playful. Just a soft press of his fingers into her flesh. It’s how it all started back in that hotel room in Dhaka, his hand around her throat as they argued, and she just keep pushing him and pushing him until he snapped. Losing all sense of control and every ounce of will power and just taking her right there and then.

Now he leans down to kiss her. Long. Soft. Gentle. Then pecks her forehead and removes his hand and returns to the various meats sizzling on the BBQ.

“They’d have cute kids,” she finishes her drink in one gulp.

“Let them have sex first, okay? That has to happen in order for them to have kids.”

“You should know. You’re kind of an expert on knocking someone up,” she chides. “See baby, you do have multiple skill sets. You’re a lover and a fighter. And people wonder I locked that shit down so quick. Well, that and the sex is incredible, and you have a huge…”

His cell phone…the private line…brings an abrupt end to the conversation, and he pulls it from the pocket of his khakis and checks the call display.

“Nik?” she asks, when she notices the frown that plays on his lips.

He lets it go to voice mail, phone in hand as he waits for the inevitable. A text message that comes in less than a minute later. “She says she’ll be here tomorrow at noon. And that Yaz is bringing tons of chocolate for the kids and apologizes in advance if they spend tomorrow night bouncing off the walls.”

“What does she want? I thought you told her you wanted two weeks off? I thought she agreed to it?”

“She did. She isn’t calling me about a job. She’s calling about the job. She says there’s something she wants to talk to me about. A business opportunity.”

“That can only translate to ‘I’ve got a job with a huge pay out if you want it’.”

“I already told her that I don’t give a shit how much someone is offering; I’m not taking anything for at least two weeks. I want to spend time with my wife and my kids. And if she doesn’t like that, she can fuck off. She knew when I got back in the game that you and my children come first.”

“So what could it be about then? It’s not like Nik to keep secrets this long. Maybe she’s met someone and needs some time off and wants you to run things. Or maybe…and just hear me out…she’s pregnant.”

“This is Nik we’re talking about.”

“So? She’s probably very fertile. She’s at prime baby making age.”

“What is wrong with you? I meant that she hates kids.”

“Well I wasn’t necessarily too fond on of them until someone…I won’t name names and throw anyone under the bus here… didn’t remember that such a thing as condoms existed. And now, here we are. All domestic and shit.”

“Don’t blame it on me. I told you your blow job game is strong enough to rob me of brain cells. For fuck sakes Nik…” he mutters, as the text messages keep pouring in. This time he leaves the BBQ in favour of leaning against the railing beside his wife, letting her read them for herself.

The guy you asked about isn’t who he says he is. He’s not from Chicago. He’s from Belfast, Northern Ireland. His name is Michael O’Mann. And he’s ex IRA.

“Irish Republican Army?” Esme frowns. “Have you ever dealt with them before?”

“Never. I’d remember that. You don’t forget a group like them.”

I tracked him down. Spoke to him. He isn’t here to hurt you. Or your family. He’s here to meet you. He wants to talk to you.

“Okay, this is starting to sound worse than I anticipated,” Esme frets.

They have his wife and his kids. He needs your help.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth character #extraction #sanctuary

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chaoticspacefam · 4 years

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OC Playlist Meme - Saarai (of course)

I was tagged by @thehighground (thank you! :D) this one was super fun!! I was caught between the twins of who I should do for this one, Saarai won because she is my favourite and her 70-song playlist was basically made for memes like this (yes, you heard me, 70. No it’s not a typo. Yes I have a slight, maybe, problem with her being my favourite LOL) 👍

I’ve shared all their playlists at various points, if you search up the “swtor oc theme songs” and “oc playlist” tag on the blog you should be able to find them! Or if you want links to the full playlists drop me a line and I can link you to them no problem! :D

Just the one this time cause this one’s pretty long, if I get tagged again tho I’ll do Ni’kasi next! :D

I shall tag (if you feel like it, no pressure as always!) @abyssal-space @stratosara @anchanted-one @pauletta-00 @hypnowinnermugpeach and anybody else who wants to have a go, this one’s super fun! Long post so under a cut! <3 gonna pop the content warning up here to: TW for mention of past abuse/manipulation and parental abuse in one of the songs in case ya wanna avoid it. there’s a warning above the specific section as well if you wanna read the rest and just skip that song, up to you!

♦️ Their intro theme: Up The Wolves - The Mountain Goats

“I’m gonna get myself in fighting trim, scope out every angle of unfair advantage. I’m gonna bribe the officials, I’m gonna kill all the judges! It’s gonna take you people years to recover from all of the damage!! Our mother has been absent, ever since we founded Rome. But there’s gonna be a party when the wolf comes home.”

♦️ Their own favorite song: DARKSIDE - Shinedown

(She has to set a good example with being one of the leaders of the Alliance (especially because her saying “don’t do that” is the only reason her sister and Aria don’t go for their new Jedi allies - at least to start with, before the Alliance y’know, bonds and becomes a proper coalition!). But learning to trust Jedi was still hard for her after what they did to her people, and I feel like if it existed in the verse she’d find it relatable and listen to it a lot.)

“Can you hear me, am I speaking clearly? Are you star-struck or just made of stone? Block out the actors, and all these bastards. That took all the fun out of rage and revenge.”

♦️ Their boss battle theme: Castle - Halsey

(it was difficult to pick one for this one, she has quite a few in her playlist that I consider her “boss battle” songs for various points in her life/the two different verses. But I think this one is the most universal! :D)

“I’m heading straight for the castle. They wanna make me their Queen. And there’s an old man sitting on the throne there sayin’ that I ‘probably shouldn’t be so mean.’ I’m heading straight for the castle...they got the kingdom locked up. And there’s an old man sitting on the throne there sayin’ ‘I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut!’.”

♦️ Their love song: (one for each of her main ships, but again, they have whole playlists because I use playlists to “set the mood” of the character/ship while I write. Pro writing tip, do it. It helps [nod nod] <3)

For Zephyrverse/Sash: Heaven’s Gate - Fall Out Boy

“And in the end if I don’t make it on the list, would you sneak me a wristband? Or would you give me, give me, give me a boost? Give me a boost over heaven’s gate. I’m gonna need a boost, cause everything else is a subtitute for your love. Give me a boost over heaven’s gate.”

For Subterfugeverse/Lana & Koth: The Last Of The Real Ones - Fall Out Boy

“I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you, but not as much as I do. As much as I do...Cause you’re the last of a dying breed, write our names on the wet concrete. I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me. I’m here in search of your glory, there’s been a million before me, that ultra-kind of love you never walk away from. ”

♦️ Their sad times song: Bruno Is Orange - Hop Along (tw: mention of abuse/manipulation, parental abuse)

“ ‘Bruno, what happened to your good sense?!’ I broke down ‘That man was good!!’ ‘I bet he works for the government!’ Did you hear about that mother, broke her daughter’s legs in two and said: ‘It’s too dangerous out there to walk so I have to save you!’ ”

♦️ A song that fits their aesthetic: Woman King - Iron & Wine

“Black hoof mare. Broken leg. Eye on the shotgun shell. Age old dog. Hornet’s nest. Built in the big church bell. Hundred years, hundred more. Someday we may see a woman king, sword in hand, swing at some evil and bleed.”

♦️ A song that reminds them of a better time: Downhill - Lincoln

(though most of this song has sad undertones to it, this part in particular would remind her of the short time she had with her father when he was alive, when he would take the twins outside and sit them on his lap to look at the stars <3)

“Cause you were the first one to show me the stars. And they don’t mean much to me, but I still wonder where you are. Some nights I still try to find you, relative to constellations. And all your relatives are still on vacation, or so I heard from a friend...”

♦️ A song that calms them down: 10,000 Enemies - Emeli Sandé

(headcanon that this is a song their mother D’leah used to sing to her and her twin, Ni’kasi, when they were children hiding out on Rishi and it stuck with her.)

“I hear the sweetest sound, blowing from the North. It says ‘don’t panic now, what’s mine is yours...’ I hope 10,000 times you tell me the truth. Cause now there’s much to do. I trust in you. I shall be free...I shall be free. We shall be free.”

♦️ A song that gets them hyped up: Young And Menace - Fall Out Boy

“We’ve gone way too fast for way too long. And we were never supposed to make it half this far. And I’ve lived so much life, lived so much life. I think that God is gonna have to kill me twice.”

I’m assuming this section is meant to mean a song the character would associate with each season? So I hope I’ve interpreted that correctly, I wasn’t really sure what else it was referring to. So that’s what I’m doing LOL

♦️ Spring: Thunder - Imagine Dragons

“Just a young gun with a quick fuse. I was uptight, wanna let loose. I was dreaming of bigger things and wanna leave my own life behind. Not a yes sir, not a follower, fit the box, fit the mold, have a seat in the foyer. Take a number, I was lightning, before the thunder.”

♦️ Summer: The Times They Are A’Changin’ - Fort Nowhere

(a.k.a the time of year where everything went to hell for her, though she uses it to remind her of how far she’s come once she’s older and more at peace with everything that happened so it’s positive in the end!)

“Come gather round people, wherever you roam. And admit that the waters around you have grown, and accept it that soon you’ll be drenched to the bone. If your time to you is worth saving, well you better start swimming or you’ll sink like a stone. For the times, they are a’changin’.”

♦️ Autumn: Dragon - Built By Titan feat. Skyborne

“When I was younger, I had a dragon. We would fly away to places you can’t imagine. And this is a story, of a lonely island. And a boy who found a way to become a lion.”

♦️ Winter: Youth - Glass Animals

(Winter is when Ty was born so it’s a mixed bag of trauma-induced depression (See “sad-times” song above), missing her twin and being sad about what happened but also wanting to make sure Ty never has to experience what she did and just wanting him to have a safe & happy life, so. This song kinda fits that.)

“Boy, when I left you you were young. I was gone but not my love, you were clearly meant for more than a life lost in the war. Oh, I want you to be happy, free to run get dizzy on caffeine, funny friends that make you laugh and maybe you’re just a little bit dappy.”

♦️ The song that plays while they’re lying on the ground bleeding out in a Walmart: Everything You Ever - Neil Patrick Harris (from Dr Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog)

“So your world’s benign. So you think justice has a voice? And we all have a choice? Well now, your world is mine.”

♦️ The song that would play each morning if they’re stuck in a time loop: Ends Of The Earth - Lord Huron

“ Oh, there's an island where all things are silent, I'm gonna whistle a tune. Oh, there's a desert that size can't be measured; I'm gonna count all the dunes.”

♦️ The song they’d listen to while robbing a Wendy’s: Pork Soda - Glass Animals

“Somebody said I’m a fucking slum, don’t know where I belong. Maybe you’re fucking dumb, maybe I’m just a bum. Maybe you’re fucking scum, don’t you go psycho chum.”

♦️ The song they’d accidentally introduce to people in medieval times if they were a time traveller: The Time Warp - Rocky Horror Picture Show.

(Also not accidentally, she has a silly side and she’d probably play this one for the LOL’s to see who got it or who got mad. She’d totally learn the dance moves and do those too XD)

“ The blackness would hit me And the void would be calling Let's do the Time Warp again Let's do the Time Warp again.”

♦️ The song they’d play in the middle of the night when their neighbors are being too loud: Blood // Water - grandson

("Do you think if I play a really loud, aggressively threatening song they’d shut the fuck up? I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna try it.” XD).

“You’ll never get free, lamb to the slaughter, what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water?!”

♦️ The song that plays at their funeral: Sax Rohmer #1 - The Mountain Goats

“Ships loosed from their moorings capsize and then they're gone. Sailors with no captains watch a while and then move on. And an agent crests the shadows and I head in her direction. All roads lead toward the same blocked intersection. And I am coming home to you. With my own blood in my mouth...yes I am coming home, to you. If it’s the last thing that I do.”

♦️ The song that plays when it’s revealed that they faked their death: Joan of Arc - Arcade Fire

“You’re the one that they used to hate but they like you now. And everything that goes away will return somehow....first they love you, then they kill you, then they love you again...and then they love you, then they kill you, then they love you again.”

#swtor #star wars: the old republic #OC meme #tagged meme #swtor OC playlists #swtor oc theme songs #swtor oc: saarai ahaszaai #sith warrior #sith pureblood #[me cackling gleefully as i have yet another excuse to put my excessively-in-depth character playlists to good use]#except for the time warp obvs that's not in her playlist but c'mon what other song would you play to troll people when you time travel XD #let's face it saarai's basically taken over this blog #i should change my icon to one of my many screenshots of her really #tw: past trauma #tw: past abuse #tw: parental abuse #tw: manipulation

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aplusjaybirdie · 5 years

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like real people do

read on ao3 here. @genderqueercrowley asked to see it so here you are! I’m done with it finally! Beta’d by @vowsatthewake

“Aziraphale, you bloody genius, I could kiss you!” Crowley exclaims, grin wide and free, and filled with a light that should be impossible for a demon. Life pauses for a moment, as he realizes the implications of what he’d said. Aziraphale pauses, wine-deep eyes lifting briefly up at Crowley, his soft lips barely parted, hair curling like a halo around him, catching the weak London sunlight filtering through the bookstore window and catching it alight with holy fire. Crowley opens his mouth too, though it would hurt like Falling had, did, to apologize, to reign himself back in, like he’s done so many times before, like both of them had done so many times before. Six thousand years of love and some of it had to spill out eventually, like wine out of a cup when the pourer is rather drunk, though usually only after the two of them had consumed a fair amount of alcohol. The two beings had gotten rather good at tactfully dancing around it, or reasoning around it, talking it over to convince the other (themeslves) that it had been nothing, a drunken slip of the tongue.

“Alright,” Aziraphale says, softly, barely a hint of vibration on the air, spoken like anything louder would bring down the wrath of Heaven and Hell.

And once, it might have, Crowley reflects, before the Armageddon’t.

Crowley does not need to breathe, but at this moment, this impossible, incredible, ineffable moment, it is the only thing he can do, mouth hanging open.

In. Out.

Aziraphale is pointedly not looking at Crowley’s eyes, staring determinedly at his chin instead. His back, however, is as firm as can be, and he is settled in his soft armchair like a king, hands lightly lying on the ends of the armrests, his fingers gently braced against the chair. He is assured in this; a general whose armies are merely waiting for the clarion call. There is no movement, no hesitation or regret, and in between breaths Crowley realizes three things.

In. Out.

First, that Aziraphale has finally caught up to Crowley, and in fact, Crowley realizes with a pleasant jolt to his stomach, like reaching the top of a roller coaster, teetering in the space-time between heartbeats before plunging down, knowing that you will survive and yet - that Aziraphale might be going rather faster.

In. Out .

Second, that were Crowley to release the moment like a firefly from a jar, Aziraphale would let him. The days would keep on turning, the earth would keep spinning on its axis, and the Ineffable Plan would keep being, well, ineffable.

In. Out.

Third, if Crowley was to replay the scene-though with the roles reversed- from so many years ago, where, in an old black Bentley that had survived for a century without even a scratch, he had been given something wholly Aziraphale, been trusted with something that could drag them apart forever, wrapped in a reminder, a soft, desperate tartan grasping, a Pandora’s Box that would plead for its life as a fool opened its lid, but with a Hope, a Maybe In the Future Invitation, trailing like smoke from dry ice from a thermos of the most blessed holy water. Where he had offered the closest thing he could give in return, a lift , and if he was to play out his part in the give and take and “temptation accomplished” and “hereditary enemies” and curl Aziraphale’s fingers back around the hope, the possibility in his extended palm and say “I can’t,” there might not be another chance for the rest of their lives.

In. Out.

Aziraphale is still staring resolutely at Crowley’s chin, and Crowley realizes that he had been sitting there long enough that it would be quite nerve-wracking for a being that has just put the friendship of his best friend, his only friend, now that Aziraphale has been forcibly separated from the Host(Crowley’s fault, a small voice in the back of his head whispers, perhaps Aziraphale would never have been pushed away from Heaven like a sticky child peeled off a leg). Though Aziraphale is sitting as steadfastly as ever, gaze still proud, still unflinching, Crowley’s eyes track the bob of Aziraphale’s Adam's Apple- what a ridiculous name- as he swallows almost imperceptibly.

Crowley has Made a Choice. If he is to Fall Again (but he has been Falling in Love for so many years, centuries, millennia), it will not be a vague saunter downwards. It will be a purposeful march to arms, to serve in the armies of Their Side, the only side that matters anymore. The rallying cry of “to Aziraphale!” has been shouted and Crowley would rather be damned- again- than leave him to fight whatever battles he must alone.

Aziraphale did not seem to have reacted to Crowley as he smoothly, though not necessarily without great difficulty, removed his sunglasses and thus pulling away the emotional wall that is always in place, unless he is drunk or alone or both, or on very rare occasions otherwise. He leans in, moving like he is in a dream, and his somewhat less plush chair finds itself a great deal closer to Aziraphale than it had been previously, allowing his palm, miraculously free of the sweat that had beaded there in just a few moments ago, a few wingbeats of soaring, falling, twisting thoughts, to rest on Aziraphale’s cheek. His fingers, long and thin and as bony as a skeleton’s(Aziraphale had once called them slender, beaming fondly as he held the tips of Crowley’s fingers in his own. Although both of them had been drunk at the time, Aziraphale had been rather more so, and Crowley had done his best to convince his heart that if it was going to beat so fast it might as well not beat at all) were allowed to tenderly wrap one golden-white curl around themselves, and somehow, miraculously, Crowley was allowed to purposefully (slowly, hesitantly, seeking permission the whole while, yes, but purposefully) march his lips on a pilgrimage to Aziraphale’s own holy pair.

At some point, Aziraphale’s eyes, thick with some undefinable emotion, had transferred from Crowley’s chin- no, not his chin, his lips - to Crowley’s eyes, and Crowley is reminded yet again that he is a Principality, a Nation Unto Himself, and thus is capable of moving with all the undeniable deliberateness of its ruler as he moves to meet Crowley in a kiss as soft as a rumble of thunder in the distance, followed- or, do they happen in the same moment? who can tell- by an arc of wondrous electricity, searing and sweet, along the places where Crowley’s atoms meet Aziraphale’s atoms and it feels like nothing has since Crowley spread stardust through the heavens, so many, many years ago.

Like any lightning bolt worth it’s stuff, the kiss is too short to really be comprehended, leaving behind only ghostly after images and a brief whirl of panic in which one's brain must catch up to the fact that it is still in fact in existence, and has not been blotted out for daring to be the tallest thing, the most favourable target around. Crowley’s brain, despite being of an altogether different and more powerful type than usual humans’, went through the same process, thudding about in a trembling, wild panic that brought to mind- well, a mind that was not struggling to catch up with six thousand years worth of love being wrestled and tugged and squashed down and suddenly freed in an instantaneous rush- the origin of the word “panic,” back to the Greeks and the half-goat immortal Pan, who actually happened to be a particularly wild demon who, unsurprisingly, as he was a demon, hated Crowley.

Aziraphale’s eyes had fluttered mostly closed, and one of his hands had settled on Crowley’s hand-the one resting on Aziraphale’s cheek- with the grace and warm regality the hand’s owner had used when on his chair, the other tangling and lacing and tangling again in Crowley’s other hand, his somewhat shorter and infinitely warmer fingers possessive with Crowley’s. He is mine, said his hands, and nothing could take him away from me.

Aziraphale had once pulled Crowley along with him to one of the original performances of Romeo and Juliet. It was exactly the sort of thing any proper demon would scorn and scoff at, and so perhaps that was why something of it had lodged itself in Crowley’s heart. He’d seen it dozens of times throughout the centuries, and had it read to him once otherwise, in secret, stolen moments, hiding away from everyone, those who might have ever cared most of all, and memorized it as quickly as he could, lining his soul with it’s gentle sighs.

(He still absolutely could not stand the other tragedies of Shakespeare, and overall thought the funny ones much more deserving of attention.)

Whatever the cause of Crowley’s shaking voice, the Bard Himself would have been moved to tears with the tenderness with which Crowley and Aziraphale held each other, the vulnerability of voices that shook themselves into stability. Their faces were inches apart, if that, and each murmured word puffed against the others’ face, caressing them and warming them with love.

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:” Crowley’s voice was hardly more than a whisper, the bursting of his heart prolonging the s’s into an adoring hiss. “My lips, two blushing pilgrims stand, to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

Aziraphale was smiling, soft lips curving up like a beam of sunlight- or moonlight, who can tell the difference after all? Crowley is in love- and if Crowley’s voice was a half-remembered dream brought to life, then Aziraphale’s was a loving caress, sure and impossibly soft, a fire in a hearth, tamed only because he wanted it to be, wanted to warm Crowley and bring him joy, a scratch of loving laughter because here was his demon, reciting him love poetry because who were the original star crossed lovers if not they?

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this. For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,” here he moved his hand, and Crowley’s too, so that their palms hung in the air against each other, fingers entwined, “and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

Crowley’s throat was dry.

“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” he croaks, heart beating fiercely , and he is glad that he does not technically need his heart to survive because he does not think it’s working correctly.

“Ay, pilgrim,” says Aziraphale, softly earnest and softly, fondly amused in one. “Lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do.” Crowley is not sure when, if, his words and Romeo’s became one, a needing keen, desperate want lying like a snake waiting for the moment to bite Orpheus’s bride and send her down to the Underworld, to Crowley, to keep Aziraphale there with him forever- “They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

They kiss, again, and it is just as much of a sweet shock as when Adam first came, as much as a gift as the first rain, as much as a wonder and a fierce delight as the first of anything, and all of the faith Crowley has lost is exalting in the streets of his own personal path from quiet despair.

It is rather longer than their first kiss.

Aziraphale is an excellent kisser, and Crowley is more than happy to let him take the lead. One hand stays, snaring Crowley’s hand, and the other moves from Aziraphale’s cheek down to Crowley’s side, skimming over his jacket and coming to rest on Crowley’s waist, pulling him as close as possible without toppling Crowley out of his chair. Then Aziraphale nips Crowley’s lips and Crowley involuntarily- though not unwillingly- gasps his mouth open and for a single starstruck moment, a fraction of the time it takes to blink- not that either of them were blinking, eyes closed into the kiss- they stand on a cliff edge and then Crowley’s mouth is burning with something with just a tinge of holiness, a brilliant spark that Crowley couldn’t imagine parting with, even if he were to dissolve into a demonic puddle, which he feels he is dangerously close to. Not because of Aziraphale’s holy saliva, but because, despite all his bluster and posing and brag, Crowley is ultimately a very sensitive being and being kissed so thoroughly is quite undoing him. Aziraphale does not have a snake tongue, though Crowley could have been fooled. It is light and nimble in Crowley’s mouth, darting around for surely not enough time, an eternity that feels like an instant, and Crowley misses its presence terribly in the second or so it takes Aziraphale to move his lips- which Crowley realizes taste of ozone and vanilla chapstick, a touch of wine(neither of them are drunk, and Crowley is glad) and something intensely older, something inherently Aziraphale, from Crowley’s lips to the corner of skin next to them, open-mouthed like he’s delivering a benediction(and being blessed had never been so wonderful, not for an angel and certainly not for a demon) and Aziraphale is pressing passionately precise kisses down Crowley’s face, onto his neck. He pauses for a moment at the hollow of Crowley’s throat, and it is the opposite of Falling. Perhaps, the small part of Crowley not currently occupied with the angel, his angel, kissing him like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, muses, all that is needed to turn a demon into an angel is love, true and angelic and specific love directed full force onto them, and then that small part of his brain joins the rest of it, exalting wholly in the moment. And then joins in protesting, like a wave crashing against the immovable bone-rocks of the beach, when Aziraphale stops. His thoughts had been mostly compressed into emotion, to allow for him to process the sheer amount of information and sensations flowing through his nerves. So it took some time- not a lot, mind you, but any amount of time is a lot during possibly the most important moment of your six thousand year life- for Crowley to start properly working again, and so as Aziraphale rose his head back to the level of Crowley’s, all he could manage was a sound that was most assuredly not a whimper, nor a whine(at least if you were to ask Crowley about it later), but more of a “ngk.”

Aziraphale’s cheek was warm and pink under Crowley’s hand, his breath was a little heavy, and his eyes shone like stars pulled from the undeserving heavens.

“Aziraphale, I-“ Crowley can hardly speak. He doesn’t want this moment to ever end, can’t bear to imagine what it would be like to exist without Aziraphale’s hand in his, without Aziraphale’s lips on his.

“My darling, my dearest,” murmurs Aziraphale. “My demon.” He is fond, and not long ago(no, not long at all) Crowley would have resented being called something so soppily un-demonic as “darling” but that was then and this is now. Crowley would endure a “sweetie tums” if it was Aziraphale speaking. Maybe. Well, maybe not that particular pet name; even if Hell no longer wants anything to do with him he is still a demon and he does have some self respect and Aziraphale is pulling Crowley out of his chair and onto Aziraphale’s, except the chair was not of a size that they could sit next to each other on it(funny, Crowley could have sworn that it was bigger, not that he was complaining) and so Crowley ends up kissing Aziraphale like it’s the end of the world from the angel’s lap, both of his arms around Aziraphale’s neck, fingers running through almost white curls and one of Aziraphale’s hands pressing warmly on his waist, and the other on his back, pushing Crowley in even closer to Aziraphale. Everywhere that Crowley’s skin touches Aziraphale’s there are intense tingles, like his entire body had fallen asleep and was only just now waking up. Crowley has recovered enough of his usual swagger to put his snake tongue to good use, and Aziraphale is matching him. Finally, they are going the same speed, and the wait is worth it. They are caught in a bubble of time that is purely their own, existing solely in the arms of the other. Like two halves of the same soul, bright and lasting and burning with infinite starfire. “I love you,” says Crowley. “I love you, I love you, I love you-“

“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,” replies Aziraphale, pulling from his beloved books to express what he alone cannot find the words to describe. “I would love you if I never saw you again, and I would love you if I saw you every Tuesday.” Aziraphale is pressing kisses to Crowley in between quotations. “I’ve never had a moment’s doubt. I love you. I believe in you completely. You are my dearest one. My reason for life. I love you, Crowley,” and all the while, Crowley melted into Aziraphale. Demons are not used to really any amount of love, and though Crowley was more used to it than most, as he had been living with a literal being of love for several millennia, he was being inundated with the type of love he didn’t think he’d ever felt in such focus, not in Hell, not on Earth, and his memories of Heaven were foggy enough if he had felt it he couldn’t remember and so it didn’t count, and Crowley was nearing the point where he might just turn into a snake(which would be rather embarrassing) and so Crowley shut up the angel as effectively as he could by kissing him even harder than he had before and using all of his devilish wiles available, though admittedly he didn’t have much experience with this sort of thing.

Aziraphale shut up.

Which of course meant that was the moment that the bookshop doorbell rang at that moment, and Aziraphale, hardly breaking stride, snapped the sign on the door from begrudgingly open to happily closed and called towards the entrance from among where they draped around each other somewhere among the stacks,

“We’re closed!” Without waiting for confirmation that’s whoever it is has left(or rather, found themselves roughly shoved outside the door, in accordance with the sign), he turns back to Crowley, deepening the kiss, grabbing lapels and twisting fabric, pulling both of them to their feet with reckless and purposeful abandon. Every line of them scorched in a most delightful way, tingling and roaring and crashing within and around them like a tempest. Lost in each other, bits of their true forms begin to leak into the physical realm. Wings sprout from their backs with a contented, aching gasp. A nimbus of eternal, ephemeral energy lances around Aziraphale, crackling pleasantly where his skin meets Crowley’s, whose hands have slipped under Aziraphale’s creamy soft, oversized knit sweater. His fingers are rubbing little circles, little pieces of golden forever, into Aziraphale’s skin, like watching an hourglass and tipping it over with just enough sand left in the top that it never ran out. Scales, black as an oil slick, dance along Crowley’s spine, and form constellations on his shoulders, hiding beneath a leather jacket and silky smooth shirt. The whites of Crowley’s eyes disappear- their owner has better things to think of- and under his eyelids they shine with an inner light, winging their way to the height of joy. There are no words for this moment, but if Aziraphale were to try to voice what could only be described as ineffable, every word would ring with a hundred holy chords, a hundred hallelujahs, their nuances and trembling songs inaudible to the mortal ear, overlapping in whispers and yells and gentle screams in languages that haven’t existed in millennia, that won’t exist for millennia, in tongues that would break minds and addle thoughts into a twisting, writhing mass, the bastard children of Babel and things far older. The two of them hold infinity in the palms of their hands, and an hour would hold eternity, if they asked.

They had started somewhere in the twisting, purposefully labyrinthine shelves of the book shop, lazily filling out crosswords from local papers and sharing smiles over hot chocolate with too many marshmallows. Evidence of the rest of the day could be found in the books, knocked from the shelves and hastily miracled back into place and then knocked again, Aziraphale’s beloved jacket, thrown over a chair, black and white feathers scattered- one here, one there, three a few feet away, and finally in an angel and a demon snuggled together on a couch in the back room of a bookstore that ran odd hours and always smelled vaguely molding, stealing kisses and giggling at each other as late-night television quietly mumbled on an old box set, complaining that no one was paying it attention.

“I didn’t realize you remembered that much about Romeo and Juliet,” said the angel, gently playing with the edge of the demon’s sleeve, dark black- except when it caught the light just right, revealing a glowing grey- and all sharp edges and hard lines- until you touched it, when it became soft as a lover’s sigh, soft as a lamb in Eden.

“Well,” said the demon, clearing his throat. “I may have seen it a few times over the centuries.”

“Enough times to have it memorized?” asked Aziraphale, with the kind of voice that could not be used without a raised eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t like the tragedies.”

“I don’t!” Crowley said hastily. “I just-” His voice softened. “It reminded me of us.”

“You old softie,” teased Aziraphale, kissing Crowley’s cheek.

“Oi, I’m a demon , I’m not soft,” groused Crowley, smiling. “Just very, very in love.” And he kissed Aziraphale back, this time on the lips.

Lovers have been feeding each other sweetly sickening coos since the beginning of time. Aziraphale and Crowley had watched, silently, as Adam and Eve whispered sweet nothings to each other, and both had grimaced slightly and turned away as nothings had progressed into rather loud and vigorous somethings.

However, nothings were more than enough to lull one particular demon into sleep, safe in the arms of his beloved like he was nowhere else, and Aziraphale was more than happy to play sentinel.

After all, he was a Principality, a Nation Unto Himself, and a good ruler will always take care of his own.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #n writes #good omens fic #i cant believe i actually wrote the words ‘holy saliva’

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magaprima · 4 years

Note

Do you have any headcanons about why Lilith seems to be able to easily move between Earth and Hell, when Lucifer seems trapped there and the demons can get banished and presumably stuck there as well?

I actually sort of went into this a little, as regards origins and powers, in a long headcanon post recently, when I was talking about the fact that Lilith is more powerful than Beelzebub and I suspect that pisses him off (as his powers are limited to Hell and hers aren’t, as she could banish him back to Pandemonium in Part 2 Episode 1 without much effort). The post is here if you want to read it.

But basically, with Lucifer, it seemed to be implied throughout Part 1 and 2 that he was trapped in Hell so long as he looked like the Puritanical idea of the devil; goat head, horns, hooves, the works. As the moment he returns to his original form, he strolls out of Hell casually...and mostly naked. However, he does leave Hell to torment Sabrina, he also leaves to ‘take’ Zelda as his ‘right’ as he has done presumably with other poor witch brides, he turns up at the cottage to order Lilith to kill Adam, so he doesn’t seem trapped per se, and I wonder if part of his reason for not leaving Hell is vanity. Because he’s all about wandering around once he has his looks back.

But the fact remains that Lucifer is bound to Hell, can be summoned from there and banished back there (at least while he’s still in Goat Mode) and the demons such as the Infernal Kings, while they claim to answer to no one and come to the mortal realm as they wish, they are able to be banished back to Hell (not just by Lilith, but also by Blackwood).

The thing is Lucifer, for all intents and purposes, created Hell. His powers, his celestial blood, his gifts are what birthed it into being. He says in Part 3 ‘I, who am Hell itself’. Hell and he are one, they are bound, intrinsically. One cannot exist without the other (hence why they didn’t kill him when he was in Blackwood’s body, because presumably killing him sets the realms askew). So Lucifer’s place is, undeniably, Hell. He can visit the mortal realm, but he must always return.

Ditto for the demons. They were made in Hell, born in Hell, created in Hell. Hell runs in their veins, they are of Hell, an intrinsic part of it. They have known no other home, they have no tie or bond to the mortal realm or anything further than Hell. They can’t permanently leave the realm they’re bound to (no one can, as even the mortals when they go to Hell, risk being killed for going there because they don’t belong there). Hence why, when the demons are in the mortal realm, they can be banished back. Because they are a piece of Hell itself, just as Lucifer is completely Hell itself.

Lilith is not a piece of Hell. She is a piece of Eden (a piece of paradise, haha). She was not created in Hell, nor was she created of Hell. She was created in literal paradise, in the Heavenly realms. And she was created as a human, a mortal. Her connection to Hell is via her being a witch, and the demons she created, her bond to that realm developing over centuries of exposure and involvement. She is connected to Hell, but she isn’t made of it. Lilith is able to move freely between Earth and Hell because she belongs to both earth and hell, just as Sabrina does (as Sabrina also moves freely, as she is half mortal, half ‘hell itself’). Just as Sabrina could choose to live on earth or in Hell (or as she currently has done, chosen to create a time paradox so she could do freaking both) Lilith could make the same choice. It’s just Lilith always chooses Hell, because it’s the only place that’s ever been as close to a home as she’s ever known (though with recent dynamics and alterations I wonder if this will change).

But as Lilith was created in the Heavenly Realms, fled to the Earthly Realms, and made her home in the Hellish Realms....we could theorise that Lilith is the only one able to freely enter all three of these realms (unlike Sabrina who isn’t getting into heaven due to being the daughter of Lucifer. ‘Well you won’t be getting into Heaven if that’s what you’re thinking’) without losing her powers or being banished.

#headcanons #mochababy712

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elphenfan · 4 years

Text

Deck the Bookshop with Decorations (Good Omens)

Silly title is silly. Merry Christmas (and Happy Holidays), everyone!

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It wasn’t something that he would’ve thought to look for and to be perfectly honest, in the abundance of items – it wasn’t clutter because that word implied that it wasn’t something you desired to have, nor necessarily the items in said clutter, neither of which applied for the bookshop – it took him quite a while to notice.

Or at least, he presumed that it took him a while to notice.

He certainly hadn’t left Crowley alone for long enough that he could put all of it up without Aziraphale noticing at least something.

Then again, he was talking about a demon, and one with the ability to stop time. That said skill hadn’t affected Aziraphale when he’d done it didn’t entail that it couldn’t – or that it hadn’t, come to that. How was Aziraphale to know? It wasn’t as though anyone else had given any indication that they knew that was what had happened once time started up again, after all.

Good grief, what he might have managed to do while he’d suspended –

That…wasn’t a thought to be thought, really, not without falling down a particularly unpleasant rabbit hole and Aziraphale mentally backed away from that so fast he left metaphorical skid marks.

Leaving that whole mess aside, though, it did seem more likely that he had in fact sneaked it in little by little, piece by piece. Probably he’d made a point of doing it like that, just because he could – and because he could grow a little bit bored sometimes now that neither of them had any assignments.

Free time is all very well, and Aziraphale knew that neither of them wanted to go back to how it’d been before, but even the best holiday loses a bit of its lustre when you realise it’s the permanent solution rather than a finite break away from normalcy. Mundanity sets in.

Mostly they’d found ways around it and to be perfectly honest, it seemed like a lot of what Crowley did hadn’t changed from before. He even admitted as much, though he claimed that it was done for his own sake and not anything to do with Hell.

Aziraphale believed him on that and to be fair, he did also help the angel out with various things, to an extent that he wouldn’t have previously. Or perhaps more precisely, that neither of them had dared just in case someone somewhere would sense that something was off. Which was probably putting it very mildly, all things considered.

This, though…

This was not what he would have ever expected of Anthony J. Crowley, a demon who changed his name not once but twice. Three times if you thought about what his name pre-fall might’ve been which Aziraphale studiously did not, as it was none of his business and wouldn’t change a thing about how he felt about his dearest demon.

The point, however, was that for someone like Crowley, who cared about how he presented himself, at least in terms of appearance, to even think about doing this, to be seen carrying these kinds of, well, baubles, really, out in public.

Some of them were small, admittedly, but with those non-existent pockets he had on both his jacket and his trousers, there wasn’t anywhere to hide them, and you wouldn’t catch Crowley dead with a bag or similar.

Of course, there was the possibility that he had a pocket that served as a sort of, what he believed someone had once described to him as a TARDIS – they’d shown him a picture of a police box, of all things, which made no sense – which was apparently bigger on the inside.

That possibility seemed remote, though – and if it did exist, then he would have to ask, as nicely as possible, whether Crowley mightn’t employ that on his bookshop.

But that brought him back to the point; that Crowley, and it could only really be him, had put up not one but several ornaments, baubles and decorations all over the bookshop, from the tiniest little snowflake in wrought silver to quite the conspicuous…was that a tomte? Nisse? Something along those lines, at least, and it wasn’t the only one, either.

In fact, once he began actively to search for them, Aziraphale found scores of them and that wasn’t even hyperbole. They seemed to be absolutely everywhere, all of them hidden yet visible and in quite some ingenious places, too, even if he wasn’t certain he wanted to admit that to Crowley.

For instance, one hung from the top of an eight feet tall Canterbury revolving bookcase while another was wrapped around the leg of one round table he had. A third one he found hidden underneath a hat and scarf on the hat stand that he couldn’t remember who had left it, though a half-formed image of a white-bearded, small man in black swam past in his mind like a brown fish in a muddy pond.

He ought to look into that and bring it back to its owner, really.

The immediate issue, however, was not merely that Crowley had apparently taken it into his head to go around and pick up things to then scatter around the bookshop, for a very odd hunt for Aziraphale to go on – one he didn’t even tell him he’d begun or that he was supposed to do but why else put them up? – but that he had chosen Christmas decorations, of all things.

It made no sense at all.

To have him put anything – the fact that it was in the bookshop was not a mystery as it was where they spent most of their time now, at least the time together, which amounted to the same thing – remotely Christmas related up was…did it even have any equivalent?

Aziraphale certainly couldn’t think of one.

There was another one. Placed carefully, too, across the collection of “Just William” books that Adam had gifted him with when he’d rebuilt the bookshop for him, was a red-and-white paper garland.

He picked it up before he quite knew what he was doing, letting it run between his fingers but carefully, so that none of the links would be damaged.

Was it some sort of prank? Mockery – no, not mockery. He knew Crowley wouldn’t do that. Not to Aziraphale, at least, not like that. If he had any such inclinations, surely, he would’ve done so already, wouldn’t he?

Then again, that applied to whatever this was, too, didn’t it? It wasn’t as though he hadn’t been in the bookshop before. He’d even been there on a relatively regular basis, though not anything like what was the case now, of course.

But did that – that didn’t mean he’d actually been doing this for years and he’d just gotten more blatant about it now, did it? Surely, the angel hadn’t been that blind to it. Had he?

No, he did…he did move the books around occasionally, just for a change of scenery or whatever was in vogue for him at the time. And, of course, whenever he couldn’t manage to keep customers out, which was rare, they would have the temerity to remove books from their shelves and not put them back right.

So, he would have noticed if there had suddenly been a nutcracker, a silk bauble or a miniature straw goat in amongst the shelves as he’d tidied up, moved around and set things right. They hadn’t been there.

That meant this, whatever ‘this’ was, had been something that he’d cooked up this year in particular. The first one after the end of the world became a bit more world without end, as it were…at least for the time being, as long as Heaven and Hell wasn’t going to…but best not to think about that, either, really.

They would deal with that when and as it came. Planning for things didn’t seem to be their forte, after all.

It was the first year, the first Christmas after they’d left their respective sides for their own and had allowed themselves – though even Aziraphale could admit, freely if self-consciously, that it had been mainly him who’d done the allowing, as Crowley hadn’t had the same sort of hiccups that he had, not even close – to be as close to each other as they wanted.

So…if this wasn’t some kind of elaborate prank, and possibly even if it was, there would be a reason for it. Well, obviously there was, but one that stretched a bit deeper. Something that the demon wanted to communicate to the angel, a message that he tried to get across, through a gesture rather than words.

He could, of course, just ask Crowley.

It would seem the obvious solution but there was the factor that if he took it the wrong way, or any way at all if it wasn’t intentional, then Crowley was as likely to clam up about the whole thing as he was to explain, depending on how vulnerable he felt. He’d gotten better about it, much better, in fact, but that didn’t translate into him never clamming up.

If Aziraphale was very unlucky, he might actually walk out of the shop and he wouldn’t see him for a few weeks, at the very least, and wouldn’t answer the angel’s calls, either.

That had never been palatable. It wasn’t that they didn’t see each other, because they were used to that, but that he was deliberately being ignored which hurt – and he tried hard not to think about their fight in Victorian times and Crowley’s unresponsiveness when he’d tried to reach out.

The fact that he later discovered it had been because the ginger had gone home to sleep…that didn’t help as much as he thought it would have.

He’d have to figure it out, though, somehow, and do it relatively soon, as it wasn’t long until Christmas, where after it seemed more than likely that he would miracle it all away in one go, if Aziraphale didn’t get it in time and then there would be no evidence that it had ever been there.

Which was more heart-breaking a thought than he could rightly explain.

Besides, if his dearest had decided to do something for him, or something that had some sort of meaning, then the least he could do was try to understand it. Try to work with him, as it were. And honestly, it was rather sweet, even if some of the items were…well…

Over the next few days, he stewed over the problem – while also trying to catch the other in the act of smuggling something in, as he did indeed, now that he was looking for them, find more and more little things scattered all over the entire shop.

Not that he’d confront him about it then and there because catching him off-guard like that rarely if ever yielded good results.

If he was going to confront him about it, ask him what he was doing and why, and it increasingly seemed like he was, since the other ways he’d come up with to solve it ran far too close to the risk of Crowley clamming up in defence, then he was going to do it in an atmosphere that was…good. Gentle and understanding.

Perhaps a bottle of wine between them, or two, really, just some time to relax, then…bring it up. Not casually, that had too much potential to come off wrong, but quietly, perhaps. Make it a compliment first because eclectic though it was, he found that the demon did have quite the knack for knowing where to put each and every ornament he brought.

Not just in terms of them not being immediately visible, either, though that was a definite factor, too, but in what fitted with the feel of the shop and the rest of the decorations. Something which he wouldn’t have expected, if he was being entirely honest, but sent him into rather a cheery mood, even towards would-be, all they would ever be, customers.

But yes, that could…that could work. Hopefully. It was the best solution he could come up with, or at least the one that offered the least opportunities for Crowley to back out, clam up or for Aziraphale himself to make a mess of things, something which seemed equally likely, he was a little ashamed to admit.

He debated with himself whether he ought to invite Crowley over, sort of more officially, as it were. In the end, though, he decided against it; it might not only tip his hand early and put the demon on guard, at the very least, which wasn’t what he wanted at all, it ran the risk of Aziraphale overthinking it all.

Well, more than he already did. Just because you’re aware you’re doing something doesn’t necessarily entail you can stop it.

So, instead, perhaps it was better to get ready for it but let the moment be decided more in the circumstances. Something like that, so long as he managed it before Christmas.

As he set about arranging things for a pleasant evening, well even more pleasant, such as stocking up on good wine from various excellent wine merchants throughout the city, finding an entire larder’s worth of little gourmet items, too good for a Fortnum & Mason hamper and other such little things, he did actually, quite unintendedly, see one ornament get smuggled in.

How he hadn’t spotted all the others, he had no idea. Not if this was how it had been carried in the other times. Though most likely, it was not, and he was just catching the moment Crowley brought it out from wherever he had in fact hidden it.

It was an ornament, of metal, judging by glint – the angel was hidden behind a bookshelf and looked out through a small gap so he couldn’t see all that much – but it wasn’t just that. It was a star, meant to hang from the ceiling and remind people of that one particular star.

Something overtly…pertinent, to Jesus, that…that was a bit more than the rest of it, wasn’t it? Good grief, the goat had its origin in Norse mythology, but there’d been no angels, no nativity scenes, nothing of the sort. Which had made sense to the real-life angel, all things considered, so why would he…?

And as though that wasn’t enough, Crowley, after having a quick look around which made Aziraphale pull back a little so as not to be spotted, seemed to find somewhere good and…not all that hidden. Hanging it, through a quick snap of his fingers, from one of the pillars that held up the gallery was hardly inconspicuous, was it?

On the other hand, would Aziraphale have noticed it if he hadn’t been made aware of the practice? Come to that, would he have spotted it, up there where there was no reason to look, if he hadn’t seen the ginger place it? He rather suspected not.

Curious and more curious.

…Just because he appreciated it books, fiction and non-fiction, immensely did not entail that he had to share the poor grammar of a girl of seven.

He had to admit, though, that the star looked quite beautiful, glinting down at them as Crowley turned and called for Aziraphale, who waited a moment or two, perhaps three, to step out from where he’d been all along, trying to give the impression that he had been further away than he had been.

If Crowley noticed anything, he didn’t say. Instead, the moment he spotted him, he proclaimed that he was there to take Aziraphale to lunch, so would he hurry up already? Well, that and he gave him a grin that could charm the Pope to a dance of the seven veils.

It certainly worked its magic on Aziraphale…though he had to say, his clothes stayed on.

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

He didn’t notice it until it was all over and done with, but the day he ended up asking the question was, in fact, Christmas Eve. Or rather, the day of Christmas Eve.

To be honest, though, he should’ve clocked it before, and rather early on, too. Not so much for the general mass of people on the move that occurred outside his windows, partly because they didn’t change much in numbers regardless of the season and partly because he never took notice of such things.

But the fact that Crowley showed up rather early in the day, when they hadn’t made any actual plans – though they would categorise themselves as a couple now, insofar as they felt human labels needed to apply to them, they did not, in fact, spend all their time together, not just yet – and in a good mood too, rather than the sliding scale of grumpiness he often exhibited during the colder months should’ve been a clue.

Pointing out that if he was cold, he could always just miracle a coat into existence to fit with the rest of the outfit, whatever that might be at the given moment, just earned Aziraphale a raise of eyebrows, possible a slight snort, but no actual explanation or excuse.

That said, there was something incredible endearing about the way the aquiline nose reddened when it was cold and Aziraphale had always secretly relished a chance to see it happen. Perhaps, one day, he would be brave enough to press his own nose to it or even, just possibly, press a kiss to it instead.

Another clue should be the fact that the demon didn’t show up emptyhanded and that what he’d brought was something fit for the occasion, in the sense that it was mulled wine of a German bent, if Aziraphale was any judge, a whole heap of mince pies and a panettone.

It wasn’t a store-bought panettone, either, but one from that little Italian bakery over in…but that couldn’t be right. Aziraphale had been round there two days before, to get hold of just that particular cake, as they really were the best in the whole of England.

They’d been sold out.

The owner had apologised profusely and while Aziraphale had been understanding, that still didn’t bring him a panettone, did it?

Somehow, Crowley had managed to get hold of one, though, and it was probably best not to ask how, lest he wanted to spend time admonishing the other for whatever it turned out to be.

What he did want to ask was why, because it did seem…well, not suspicious but perhaps too coincidental to be true?

There was certainly something in the way Crowley also didn’t just slink over to the nearest piece of furniture meant for sitting in that he then proceeded to treat as some sort of table with himself as the tablecloth, but actually helped to unpack and set up, and not with a miracle, either.

But perhaps he was just in a good mood today. There needn’t to be anything else to it. Even so, Aziraphale would like to know. Not knowing led the way to uncertainty and speculation, at least for the blond.

Each in its own time, though. Perhaps he could ask when he asked about the rest or maybe the time would come later or even sooner. He didn’t know.

For now, he would enjoy this day they’d clearly both intended to spend together, judging by not just the amount of food Crowley had brought but what kinds.

“You’re spoiling me, my dear,” he said, gushing slightly as he opened more boxes, with quite a few different languages spread between them, than what he’d initially thought the other had been carrying.

He really would have to check that jacket for interdimensional pockets. The trousers were a no-go; when he couldn’t even get his hands in, fitting a pocket dimension, aha, in there seemed unlikely.

“Oh, goodness, what are these? Truffles? They look delicious.”

“Caramel balls covered in chocolate, found them in one of those little shops that sell high-end foreign stuff,” Crowley said, shrugging as though it was nothing. “These here are called marzipan potatoes, they’re German. They’re pretty good.”

When he saw Aziraphale’s expression, he said, “Hey, I eat. I enjoy food. I just don’t take every opportunity I can to enjoy it.” He softened his voice and smiled, even if it only lasted for a moment. “Each to their own, though.”

The rest of his expression said a lot, though, and Aziraphale smiled in turn, understanding.

He picked up the Glühwein and poured it out in two glasses, the liquid just the right temperature when it hit the glasses in question, a warmth it’d retain until they’d finished drinking. Once full, he handed one glass to Crowley, who took it and sipped from it immediately.

Aziraphale joined him and had to admit that though it was hardly any great wine in itself, but the addition of spices and such, similar but different from the English mulled wine, made it quite nice, on its own merit. Well, it was festive and appropriate, at least.

“No changing it,” Crowley said, looking at him over the rim of his own glass, his eyebrows suggesting a challenge and a smirk.

“I wouldn’t dream – “

“You would, and you have before. The point of it is not to upgrade it to your liking but to enjoy what’s there. Disregarding their heritage or something.” He took another sip.

“Oh, yes, because you’re terribly concerned about the heritage of – “

“I made sure humanity as a whole still had one, didn’t I?” Crowley interrupted, but without much bite.

Aziraphale smiled, apologetic, moving closer to the other. Not touching him but it was a close enough thing.

“It’s lovely, dear, thank you,” he said, his eyes and smile warm. “Now, I’ve found a few treats of my own that I haven’t had a chance to try out yet, perhaps you’d be kind enough to help me sort through them to find what’s worth keeping.”

Crowley opened his mouth, presumably to protest, but Aziraphale took the opportunity to put one of the things he’d found and had laid out, into it. Thankfully, the ginger didn’t spit it out.

“You’re going to fatten me up,” he accused when his mouth was empty.

Aziraphale wasn’t going to fall for it. “You haven’t changed one bit in six millennia, you’re hardly going to start now.”

“And you don’t think that’s taken an awful lot of work?”

“No, I do not. In fact, I know for certain that it hasn’t because I am in the same position, despite my ‘gluttonous ways’.” He looked down at the assembly of edible luxuries spread out on the round table and sighed. “Oh, bother. I should’ve moved the table to the back before I put the things on it.”

Crowley gave him a look at that, snapped his fingers and then let himself fall backwards onto the sofa. Which was right behind him.

It had been moved into the bookshop itself rather than the other way around, which made sense.

Aziraphale blinked then shook his head and went to join him, though he chose to sit rather than sprawl, pulling the table the last foot over to them.

“Show-off,” he said, fondly.

“For you, angel? Always.”

The grin at that as well as the words did funny things to Aziraphale’s insides. Though honestly, to say that was like saying the sun rose each morning. True but also so everyday that mentioning hardly seemed worth the effort and yet so essential that to live without seemed impossible.

He settled into the sofa, glass still in hand, and listened to Crowley start in on a tall tale of something or other, enjoying their relatively newfound closeness, both physical and metaphorical.

In the pleasantness of it all, he almost forgot what he’d meant to ask. He’d certainly forgot to check for where Crowley might have stashed another ornament or bauble or whatever it was that he’d found to put up that day.

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

By the time he remembered that he meant to ask about it all, that that was at least part of the reason he’d gathered all of this in the first place, he was well on his way to being decidedly drunk.

They’d finished the glühwein, the whole bottle, without any attempts at tampering, and had then moved onto some of the wines Aziraphale had gathered.

He’d also managed to get Crowley to eat at least his fair share, and perhaps a bit more than that, of what they’d consumed so far of the goodies they’d brought. Though the demon couldn’t really gain weight, he hadn’t yet dealt with the amounts consumed and so his belly strained against the confines of his shirt, something which was rather adorable to look at. Not that he’d appreciate being told that, of course.

The angel himself was sitting a bit more sprawled himself now, hands folded over his stomach, looking up at the room around him.

It really was quite the feature, he had to admit. Livened the place up in, in a way, put it in the festive spirit, and was quite elegantly done, all things considered, though that should hardly be surprising, given the look of Crowley’s flat.

Not that he’d have done it himself; it was things to move whenever he wanted to read something, things that could fall and possibly break which would then have to be cleaned up.

Of course, it might be argued that he did have the snuffboxes and other such items, but they weren’t put in front of the books like impromptu guardians, now were they?

He smiled, softly.

“It’s very pretty,” he said, the sentence coming across as very much a non-sequitur to anyone outside his head. Which was everyone. Thankfully. Except…well…

But seeing as he was tipsy – not drunk, decidedly not drunk, he knew the difference perfectly well, thank-you-ever-so-many – it didn’t come as much of a surprise, to neither him nor the equally inebriated Crowley. He seemed as inebriated, anyway.

“Is it?” the ginger asked, not moving a muscle from where he was draped across the piece of furniture, gazing, or more accurately staring, upwards.

“It is,” he insisted, lifting his head, with only a bit of difficulty, to focus on the other, who wasn’t looking back at him. In the circumstances, that might be just as well. “Not what I would have thought about, but I’m glad to have it.”

“That’s good. I mean, really good. I’m glad to hear it, I mean, obviously. That’s…hang on.” Crowley’s head lolled to the side to face Aziraphale. He’d lost his…no, he’d actively taken his sunglasses off shortly after sitting down and yellow eyes tried hard to focus. “What are we talking about?”

Aziraphale blinked a few times, then frowned.

What were they talking about?

…Oh. Yes.

Oh.

“The…the decorations,” Aziraphale said and wished, suddenly, that he was either not inebriated at all or positively sloshed. Either could be arranged, but he had a suspicion that that wouldn’t actually solve the problem. A problem that he had to solve, that he had actively arranged all of this to ask about.

So, he ploughed on, despite his sudden nerves. He turned his gaze away from the other, though, just to be able to do it.

“You’ve done quite the beautiful job of it,” he continued, figuring, hoping, that to continue with the, honest, compliments would be the right way to go about it, “and I’m sorry that it took me so long to notice.”

He expected Crowley to stiffen and thought he felt his demon do just that, despite the distance between them. For a moment, he thought about stopping, about backing out of it before he dug himself into a very unfortunate hole.

But there had to be a reason for it, whether deep or shallow, one that surely, Crowley couldn’t expect Aziraphale to think about – once he discovered it but best not to get into all of that right then – and well…wasn’t it better to get out there and talk about it?

Not necessarily but he shouldn’t dwell on things like.

He reached out and took one of them, a small snow globe, from where it had been hidden between two stacks of books on another table and shook it.

“I just don’t quite…I admit, I don’t quite understand why you decided to hide them like this, though,” he said, keeping his eyes locked on the falling ‘snow’. “Why go to all the trouble of finding such pretty and unique little things, and they really are, and then hide them away? Come to that, I have not figured out why you’ve decided to decorate in the first place.”

If he was going to ask, he might as well ask it all in one go. Have it over with in one fell swoop, as it were.

There was silence from the other end of the sofa, something which didn’t exactly help his nervousness.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

He swallowed as he watched the last flakes fall.

“I mean, it’s not as though it’s something I’ve ever known you to do before, either, though of course you might have in your own flat, I have not seen that. I suppose I’ve just made an assumption, which I know isn’t…but I just can’t figure out why you…and to say that it’s because you’re a demon is true, of course, for a given value of true, but even so, it’s not fair of me to – “

He hadn’t realised he’d begun rambling just a little when a hand reached out and grabbed his knee, then squeezed it gently.

The gesture was small, but it was enough to stop him speaking. Not only that, he looked over at the other.

“That’s what you’re worried about? That’s why you’ve been stealing nervous glances at me all day?” Crowley asked and he sounded neither offended or hurt or anything else that signalled his walls were about to slam up in self-defence. Which was good, obviously, but…

“Well, yes, I – “

“It’s not that difficult to work out.”

Blue eyes flickered down and away. “It is to me, my dear.”

“That’s because you overthink things all the time.”

That made him look back up, a small smile on his lips. “Hullo pot.”

“Touché,” Crowley said, and he was smiling, too.

He was also still touching Aziraphale’s knee and for a couple who had yet to progress to much touching, it felt significant.

“You’re right, though; a demon isn’t supposed to decorate or celebrate. Not even when it’s commercial or secular or even Pagan, which is…but anyway, it’s not like they’re going to check now, is it? I figured that with ‘our side’, I could do it if I wanted to. Which I do. It looks nice.”

He looked out across the room at that and the pleasure in it was plain to see, as was the pride. Aziraphale’s heart swelled further to see his dearest’s happiness.

There were still a few questions that he wanted answers to, though.

“But why do it here and not at your own flat – “

“Who says I haven’t?”

Aziraphale inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Still, that leaves the question of why you kept it hidden from me, and kept them hidden, too.”

“I didn’t keep them that hidden.”

“Hidden enough and you didn’t tell me. Not that you need to get my approval, that’s not what I mean. I just…I supposed I’ve worried you were afraid of what I’d say.”

That made Crowley sit bolt upright and turn fully towards the blond. He let go of the knee but immediately grabbed Aziraphale’s hand, pulling it away from the snow globe he still held.

The angel immediately grabbed in turn, squeezing a little.

“No, of course not. I put the first one up and thought you’d spot it immediately. When you didn’t, I…well, I wanted to see how long it took before you did and well, it was…it was fun to hide them.”

Crowley smirked just a little. “You ought to move your things more often, angel.”

“I move them often enough.” To be honest, though, the indignation was a very minor ingredient in the stew of his emotions, dwarfed by the sheer joy and cosiness that surrounded the moment.

Especially seeing as they’d both moved themselves, unintentionally, he was sure, close enough that they were touching, sides pressed lightly against each other.

“Only one more question,” he asked after a little while had passed. “Why Christmas themed decorations? You could’ve picked anything to put up and yet, you picked that which is in season.” He took a breath and got to the crux of that question. “Seeing as it’s holy, I wouldn’t have thought it had your interest, regardless of sides.”

Crowley shrugged but there was warmth in his golden eyes, though also more than a hint of sadness.

“Celebrating the birth of a bright young man who made the mistake of saying people ought to be kind to each other? Don’t see anything wrong with that. Especially not with all the ways humans have added onto it since.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help his smile at that and he squeezed the hand in his, hard. “Next year, though, perhaps you’d allow me to help you put them up?”

The demon blinked, his eyes widening. Then he nodded, several times in rapid succession.

Aziraphale brought the hand he was holding up to his chest, his smile a rival to a small sun. “Then that’s settled.”

“I actually do have one more thing I wanted to put up,” Crowley said, rather quietly, after a while had passed in comfortable, warm, golden silence. “Been saving it, actually, for…but I wasn’t sure whether you’d want it or not, so I didn’t.”

“Did that bother you with the rest of them?” Aziraphale asked. He felt justified in the question but at the same time, he felt a little guilty.

The demon shook his head, seemingly not bothered, at least by the question. “No, but that’s…this is a bit more…” Crowley made a face, fidgeted and coloured ever so slightly all at once, which was more adorable than it had any right to be.

“What is it, dear?”

“Nghk,” was all that Crowley managed to say, his mouth forming noises that might’ve had words in their ancestry in the same way that every European is related to Charlemagne.

Aziraphale took the hand that he wasn’t already holding.

“You can tell me.”

“Yeah, of course I can. I know that, it’s just…”

The angel chose not to prod further, instead waiting for the other to be ready to say it.

Which took a little but eventually, he managed to say it.

Or rather, show it.

He snapped his fingers but there wasn’t immediately anything to show for it.

Then he pointed upwards, to –

Oh.

“Oh. That.”

“Yeah…”

Well, then, no better time for trying out new traditions than Christmas, was there? And the rest of their lives, too, come to it.

And perhaps, just this one, doing it rather than saying it would be quite the good option.

So, gathering his courage, he leaned forward to close the gap between them, kissing Crowley softly on the lips, pouring his heart into it.

Crowley returned it immediately, one hand disentangling itself to instead cup Aziraphale’s jaw.

When they parted, they stared at each other, their eyes shiny but not from alcohol.

Then they went in for another kiss, longer and somehow even sweeter while evening fell outside the window.

When they eventually separated for longer than a moment or two, it was more appropriate to call it morning than evening or even night.

#good omens fic #go fic #Ineffable Husbands #aziraphale/crowley #christmas fluff #post-canon #sweet crowley #sweet aziraphale #confused aziraphale #kissing #christmas decorations #ineffable husbands christmas story #good omens christmas fic

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tessatechaitea · 4 years

Text

The Invisibles #3

This is exactly what taking drugs isn't.

Our world is composed of geniuses and not-geniuses. That's the kind of statement a not-genius makes because it's so fucking obvious. Do you ever have to say anything that pretty much says "All of the people on the world are either this or that"? Anyway, the point I was making wasn't that I'm one of the not-geniuses even though it's the point I accidentally made. The point was that in the non-genius camp, we have those who are smart enough to recognize genius and those who sit grumpily in their pee-puddles whining about how the high-falutin' elites are trying to make things different. Different, in this case, generally means better but if you're a non-genius who can't recognize geniuses, you're just mad that somebody said french fries might not be the most nutritional side dish (even though you could still live in a world where you acknowledge that french fries are both not even close to nutritional and also the best food on the planet. I mean, you have that choice. But I guess the pee-puddle you're sitting in (which is slowly leaking into your gun cabinet) has probably distracted you from rational thought). Again, that wasn't the point I was going to make (about the french fries!) but I have a problem staying on topic. Partly it's because I've never been able to stay on topic (you should read some of my college essays which I'm not going to release to the public so even though I suggested you should read them, you won't be reading them. Ever) and partly it's because of another reason that I forgot while typing the college paper parenthetical statement. My point might have been that you can recognize a genius because they can state plain what other people are obfuscating in their pronouncements. If you're not smart enough to recognize the genius, you might think the genius is spreading propaganda, mostly because you really want to believe the thing that isn't true because it shields you from guilt or blame or repercussions stemming from following your own selfish desires at any cost. The genius is reviled by people who can't recognize genius and viled by people who can. Or unviled? Previled? Maybe I should have just gone with lauded. You might think I'm saying all of this in regards to Grant Morrison but you'd be wrong. I'm actually saying this about A.R. Moxon, the author of The Revisionaries, whose Twitter handle is @JuliusGoat. He did not pay me to point out that he's a genius although he probably should have. I suppose it's not too late. Being that he's a genius and knows the smart thing to do, I'm sure he'll buy my RPG when he Googles his name and/or Twitter handle and finds me sticking my tongue way up his asshole in this post. I mean, I'm basically saying he's smarter than Grant Morrison! Getting back to Grant Morrison, is he really a genius? I'm not so sure. I think maybe he's just a libertine who did a lot of drugs and traveled to a lot of sort-of-spiritual places (not to be more spiritual but to get his hot genius take on spirituality in a place that smells of burning corpses and goat semen while he shits his guts out back at the hotel high on hashish). Sometimes when you've done acid and other illicit substances, you feel the need to think you've risen above the flock by doing a thing most people will never consider doing. Maybe Grant doesn't exactly feel this way but some of his stuff sometimes comes across as that. I mean, sure, if you've ever done LSD or the like, you've definitely experienced a sort of melding of yourself with the profound and the mundane and the timeless in a way that usually only schizophrenics experience. You have done something that has changed you from the person you were before. But thinking that it has somehow made you different or better than those who haven't done it just means that you've never talked to people who went to high school in the flyover states. I've known some really boring and backwards people who did a lot of acid simply because there wasn't anything else to do out in the cornfields. It really did surprise me, a resident of the San Francisco Bay Area, to discover how prevalent psychoactive drugs were in the Midwest and Plains states. I thought that was just the hippies and children of hippies! What I didn't think, though, was that it made me a non-sheep (like the guy in my San Jose State creative writing class who once wrote a story about how he had broken from the flock because he dared to try LSD. The teacher loved his take and luckily for me, she was blind so she didn't see me rolling my eyes and making jerk-off motions from the back of the class. I mean, wow, dude. You dared to try LSD. I was probably on LSD while listening to the teacher read that stupid ass story!). Okay, maybe my whole take on "Grant Morrison thinks he's better than everybody else" stems from my envy of the idiot jock who wrote a stupid story that the teacher loved while she mostly just reacted to my stuff with "WTF? I guess I see how nostalgia can seem like a dream and the pop culture death of Superman can sometimes be more powerful than the death of a close family member but why did you choose to make none of this linear and what the hell do your Star Wars figures have to do with your future death? Also, the baseball game between Heaven and Hell where Heaven wins because Hitler snarls 'Jew' and then beans Jesus with the pitch to push in the last run was decent." Now that we've resolved some of my issues (I mean, maybe not "resolved" but at the very least "put out there in the open so you know where my biases are coming from"), let's get on with The Invisibles #3. When we last left our homophobic pouting white suburban "my mother doesn't hug me enough" anarchist protagonist, he was about to be hunted to death by a mystical group of human fox hunters in the secret London hidden beneath the one everybody thinks of as the "real London." I sort of hope the kid gets murdered. But then we won't get to see him learn his lesson which allows viewers to also maybe a learn a lesson. It's sometimes why you need characters like Mrs. Oleson from Little House on the Prairie. Although it was kind of enough to have Laura Ingalls who was a selfish devil child who was always learning lessons from humble and righteous Pa (who probably only killed one or two Native Americans, making him a stalwart saint of the frontier). I suppose the audience didn't need an over-the-top scurrilous villain like Mrs. Oleson. Although without Mrs. Oleson, how could the show have glorified the true saint of the frontier, Nells Oleson? The patience and kindness of that man were a testament to, um, patience and kindness!

I'm assuming Dane spends the next twenty pages snot-crying into a used coffee filter.

Dane continues to hang out with Tom of Bedlam because Dane can't survive on the street on his own and he knows it. He's not hard at all. He's a little wanna-be suburban gangster who read half of a book on anarchy and now thinks he's better than the slack-eyed populace going about their normal day-to-day bullshit. But he also thinks he still needs money and a place to live. He's not really great at the anarchy thing. But maybe if he listens to Tom, he'll learn a little bit about life and his heart will grow three sizes. Not because he suddenly cares more about everybody; it'll be a side-effect from learning the Dark Arts. Tom casts a spell so that Dane can look through the eyes of a pigeon as it flies about London. While Dane is seeing the hidden, creepy monsters lurking behind reality that pigeons can see (just as Pigeons can enter the afterlife in Moore's Jerusalem. I'm sure there are other urban horror stories that tell of the magic of pigeon vision. Did Lovecraft ever right any pigeon poems?), Tom tells Dane the secret history of cities. They're a virus that has propelled man from small villages which barely change across the centuries into huge population centers that use up the life force of the hosts as they build more and more and more, bigger and bigger, until, one day, they can build a rocket to propel the city virus into space and onto a new planet. Tom has seen, in visions, other planets affected by the virus, dead planets where the buildings stand as gravestones for the previous used-up races that contracted the virus. It's all very Lovecraftian. Not in the racist way but in the visions of other realities that change the nature of your own reality once you realize their existence. Hmm, that can actually kind of describe racism. I suppose Lovecraft's xenophobia was what made his stories about strange, unknown terrors so compelling. After teaching him loads of magic, Tom decides to teach Dane the most important lesson:

It's a really good lesson but also it's just Tom's attempt to get Jack Frost to appear.

Tom teaches Dane not to be a sheep or, in Tom's words, a robot. It's one of those weird lessons that everybody thinks they learn but nobody really learns it. Like when people read just that one Frost stanza on some poster in their English Lit class from "The Road Not Taken". Everybody gasps in air as the profundity of that single stanza (extracted from the context of the larger poem, much to the detriment of all of us) washes over them and they suddenly believe they've seen what life really is. Life isn't doing the thing you're supposed to do! Life is living to the fullest! Carpe diem! But the feeling of that moment erodes. It is eroded by the path we all take as we pretend we've taken the other path. We stop seeing that their weren't just two paths but many. And we get a job and we get a spouse and we get a house and we get a child and we occasionally think of Frost's single stanza and we decide, "You know what? I'm going to find the time to jump out of a plane!" or "I'm going to climb Everest!" or "I'm going to sleep with somebody of my same sex because I've always wanted to and hopefully my wife won't find out!" And sometimes we do and sometimes we don't; it doesn't really matter. Because the thing about taking the path less traveled is that it's still a path and it still represents the path you took and, you know what, there's that other path over there that I never got to experience and it's just shitting all over the path I'm currently on. Some people somehow block out the phantom possibilities and they're the lucky ones. The ones you can claim they have no regrets and maybe they're speaking truth when they say it. But mostly they just try not to think about it. Because once you start peeling at the wallpaper of your current life because the wallpaper, which others upon first glimpsing might think is beautiful and extraordinary, but which you've looked at every day for thirty years, you're done for. And you don't do it to find the beauty of what's underneath; you simply do it to see something different. And the new thing hasn't been scrutinized and deconstructed and critiqued; there's been no time to obsess over it. It's imaginary and if you happen to be like most people, imaginary must be better because why imagine the worst?! Okay, okay. I've just outed myself as not an anxious or depressive person! But I also don't go peeling at the wallpaper, so who knows? Maybe I do imagine the path less traveled was an intense tragedy?! The Invisibles #3 Rating: A. It's still pretty good and I'm still upset that I only have a few issues. Recently, I was thinking of writing an essay about how the worst thing about growing up is how you stop feeling things. Not that you stop feeling anything at all! Just that you stop feeling feelings that were once overwhelming and all-important. Like the crush you had in junior high. Can you imagine if, at forty, you still felt those feelings so intensely (among all the other ones you've felt across your life)? I understand that feelings must abate over time or we'd all be fucked up from not being able to get over our first crush while simultaneously not moving past the death of our closest grandparents. I get it. And some would say it's a mercy. But lately I've been wondering, "Is it?" Maybe I want to still feel those seemingly inexhaustible passions. I was reminded of wanting to discuss this because Tom says in this issue, "They made you forget how to feel, eh? Remember it now? Like everything new and the sun itself spinning behind your ribs, filling you up with silver. Like the way it was before they made robots of us, sentenced to a life behind bars we're trained to set in place ourselves." Now, that Tom speech was more about the whole "we're the shepherd of our own sheepdom" thing but in a robot and prison analogy. But the other thing about feelings made me remember how I was recently lamenting not feeling all of the things I once felt. Like the basket case from The Breakfast Club says, "When you grow up, your heart dies." And while you can argue whether that's true in the sense that you just stop caring about things, I think it's absolutely true in that it just slowly winds down and isn't capable of feeling how it used to. It's like a rechargeable battery that can no longer keep a charge. When I was in my late teens and early twenties, every single one of my friends, at one time or another, wound up weeping in my basement apartment about something in their lives (usually a woman!). I can't even fucking imagine that now. Maybe they'd be a bit upset or hurt or depressed but hardly disconsolate. I thought I would never get over the sadness at the loss of my grandfather or (and this might sound ridiculous to some but others will understand) the loss of my first cat as an adult, my precious little Judas. And while I obviously won't ever "get over" them (my eyes tear as I write this), I am no longer destroyed by the mere thought of their non-existence. A week after my Judas died, I saw Guardians of the Galaxy in the theater. Judas was always my Raccoon Boy so I almost broke down near the end when one of the characters put their arm around Rocket to console him. I made it out of the theater before absolutely losing it and snot-crying all the way back to the car. And so I can see how retaining that level of feeling over anything would be counterproductive to actually living, I absolutely miss it. I profoundly miss it. I want to be kicked in the stomach until I can't breathe by my feelings. I want this every day even if I know it's the cursed wish of a Monkey's Paw. How can anybody feel everything so palpably for their entire lives? And yet, how can we not?!

#The Invisibles #Grant Morrison #Steve Yeowell #DC Comics #DC #Vertigo

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morningstarlucemon · 4 years

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((So, this is a super personal thing that relates to my beliefs. So if you don’t wanna read cause you’re not interested, that’s totally cool. This is gonna be OOC and stuff. I just wanna post this here cause I don’t feel that I can openly say this anywhere else just yet. It’s not really safe for me in case bio family sees it. But I’m just... really excited and wanna talk about it. So if you’re interested, read more is below. There’s a TL;DR at the bottom if you want.))

So, anyone who knows me personally in any intimate manner might know that I’ve struggled with my beliefs for a really long time. I was raised super, super Christian, and even though my family was non-denominational, and we didn’t have a lot of religious “rules” like in mainstream Catholicism or anything similar, it was still really oppressive to me. Parts of my mental illnesses were blamed on demons and went untreated, and actually aggravated with the methods used to “help,” namely my OCD. To this day I have ticks that were programmed into my thought patters based in prayers I was taught that became compulsive habits rather than soothing mantras. And since I was very young I’ve been in a really precarious place with my faith.

I wanna say first and foremost, I don’t think Christianity is bad. I DO think the way people carry it out is harmful. But I don’t believe the faith as a whole is bad. I think that any religion practiced by someone for the want of peace and personal fulfillment without harming others is good so long as it makes them happy. I’m only saying that Christianity as I was taught it hurt me, and the people who taught it to me hurt me. And I now have a very uneasy relationship with the faith as a whole.

For probably around ten years or so, I’ve been a very... nihilistic person, not out of choice, but out of a compulsively logical mindset. If I didn’t have proof of it, my brain didn’t wanna believe it. It still doesn’t. I don’t claim to have ever experienced any proof of the supernatural. But I didn’t wanna call myself an atheist. I WANT to believe in something, anything. But any time I try, the logic part of my brain steps in and demands proof. And it’s been slowly killing me for several years, choking off my spirituality and adding to my depression. It didn’t help that, although I was too logical to believe in anything, I still had the fear and guilt that came with believing I was gonna be sent to hell. I had all of the guilt of religion, and none of the personal peace or fulfillment.

I have spent the last few years of my life talking to people of other faiths and lack there ofs-- atheists, agnostics, Lokean, Wiccan, Catholic, Voodoo practitioners, Heathens, Jews, Muslims, Hedonists, Multi-Theists, Hellenists, and a lot more, as well as several variations of Christians. But no matter what I tried, nothing seemed to fit. I couldn’t settle back into Christianity, no matter how much I tried to fit myself into more secular and relaxed sections of the faith, it never felt welcoming or comfortable. I could never get away from the guilt. But I also never felt attached to any other faith I dabbled in, either. Nothing clicked. I felt present and welcomed, but I didn’t feel at home.

I’ve been working in therapy to really explore myself, and doing a lot of self-reflecting. And part of that has been looking back on what I’ve identified with through the years. And something I have always gone back to was Dark Angels and things associated with Death. When I was very little and my Mom would watch Touched by an Angel, I’d ask her about the Angel of Death, and she would explain that he was not a bad person, but that he was someone who would come take us to Heaven when we died. And that stuck with me. I’ve always been drawn to characters who were outcasts, logical thinkers, people who thought of things with raw data and not pre-conceived ideas, and, of course, those associated with Darkness. Duo Maxwell, Treize Khushrenada, Lucemon, Violet Parr, Levi Ackerman, Rorschach, Raven Roth, Laura Kinney, Vaal Hazak, Sephiroth, Howl Jenkins Pendragon, Adrian Tepes, Black Shucks, Damien Bloodmarch... I never could put my finger on what they had in common until now. All of them are outcasts who think differently than society as a whole, many of them with dark or complex morality or emotionally injured themes about them. I have always been drawn to the darkness, even since I was a little kid. And I think, because of the fear I was taught, I denied and lied to myself something that I’m fairly sure I’ve known for years.

After really learning what other beliefs are, that they’re not all goat sacrifice and child rape, and learning the actual principals behind them, I think I might finally be ready to choose a title for myself and my belief set. After years of introspection, and debate, and self-exploration, I, for now, when it is safe to do so, will align myself with Luciferian Satanism.

I have chosen this faith for many reasons. Lucifer expects nothing from me, not even for me to truly believe in them. Do no harm, and take no shit. This faith allows me to still be a kind human being, but also to not let myself be hurt and abused as I’ve been in the past. It is the first thing to slightly allay my fear of death in years. It recognizes that life is sometimes shit, but that we don’t have to live in existential dread all the time because of it. Sure, this life is piss sometimes-- but what the fuck is sulking about it gonna do? I might not be able to change the world, but I can make a few people feel better for a little while. I don’t need to search for the meaning in life-- it doesn’t matter if life is inherently meaningless, cause I am here, so I’m gonna have fun. And I’m gonna help others have fun, too. I’m gonna be kind to people because it makes me feel better to know I’ve made someone else feel better. Yeah, it’s a selfish motivation, but that’s what all acts are motivated by-- the want to feel better. And that’s very much okay. There’s nothing wrong with helping people because it makes you feel good, knowing that someone else’s day was improved by you. I don’t need an entity threatening me to make me do good things, and I don’t need praise from humans. I can worship myself, I can love and care for myself, and that’s not only okay but expected. Things aren’t good or bad just because society says they are. Things are good or bad because of the effect they put out into the world. It’s okay to be weird as long as you’re not hurting anyone else. I don’t have to always speak as others do or move like they do. It’s okay that I’m on the spectrum. I don’t have to pretend to be normal. Whatever comes for me, I’m gonna embrace it with open arms, and will take control and improve what I can, and ask for help when I need it, because I’m alive and I chose to try and be happy. I don’t need the promise of heaven or any afterlife to make me happy. If one comes, that’s wonderful. I hope I’m surrounded by people I love and who love me.

I’m not going to lie and say Lucemon didn’t have a part in me realizing I’m a Satanist, because they definitely did. I don’t think I would have ever been willing to even truly consider it if not for this angel. But I want to clarify one thing, as some of my friends seem to be a bit confused. I do believe I am kin with Lucemon. I do not believe myself to be kin with Lucifer, Satan, or the Devil. I may have a shard of them in me, but I lay no claim to their power except what I’ve been allotted in this life. I will absolutely claim myself and my power and title as Lucemon, Demon Lord of Pride in the Digital World. But I at no time want to claim to speak for Lucifer or have any right to his power.

On a similar note, I am not in this belief for the power. I don’t expect Satan to bestow me with a silver tongue or armies of demons. I do wish to become stronger in magic and charisma and use of my natural abilities to get what I want, but I intend to work for these things, not have them handed to me. I recognize that I have nothing Lucifer could ever potentially want, except possibly, maybe my understanding. I have nothing I could offer that would be of use to them. So I won’t try to barter for something I know damn well I’m not entitled to. I intend to work, study, practice, listen, and learn to grow my power. Lucifer expects nothing from me, I expect nothing from him. I only wish to devote to them my heart and respect because I feel a kindred spirit within them.

I believe Lucifer to be an enlightener, a symbol of progress, logic, exploration, love of knowledge and acceptance, and seeing things without bias. They may exist as a concept, or as an actual entity, or something in-between, or something totally outside my comprehension. Regardless of the nature of their existence, they bring me peace, and I find speaking of and to them to be soothing and helpful to me. I also do not feel that my devotion to them will interfere with my offerings to other gods. Lucifer is not tyrannical. Lucifer is not Jealous. They want only for me to be kind, and be myself. And that’s all I want.

I’m getting super tired, and I’m really rambling at this point. But I really wanted to state all this somewhere. I’m so grateful to finally begin to have something to take solace in. And I intend to accept this and further growth, regardless of where it takes me, openly and thankfully, as holding back has only hurt me. I intend to further research my stance, and potentially am looking into calling myself a Warlock. I understand that term is typically given to you by others as a derogatory term, and is used for those who have been expelled from their covens. But with that said, I HAVE been ejected from everything I knew before. I’ve thrown much of it out in favor of healthier beliefs and practices, and I seem myself as not fitting in with where I was and as something of an “other.” So I feel this term resonates with me and what I am and want to be.

So, yes. TL;DR: I consider myself a agnostic Luciferian Satanist, and am hoping to study and grow fully into a Warlock. This has given me peace I haven’t had in many years, and I am happier with this than I’ve been with anything else since I was a child.

Thank you all so much for listening to me. I love you.

#☉ Out of Wings (ooc)#personal #HIGHLY personal #religion

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uploadedyudkowsky · 5 years

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"That is a different kind of language than any you know. It may be a new one. I would not put it past the Children of Humbaba to have invented it a thousand years ago."

"You say that like it is an explanation for why our Sun shines at exactly noon in September," says the GUY. "Yes, but it is our language for expressing the idea that the Sun is not warm, the Sun is not bright, something dark and dim. When that idea is expressed in an idea whose time has been shifted by three years, the result is wonder and awe. It takes its place among marvels greater and greater, and is spoken of with amazement even now, on August 3rd."

"The Children of Humbaba spoke it in the era of the Children of Humbaba, with no one to hear them. They may have been born then, but the idea did not travel with them. There is no account of their lives. There is no record of any events that took place in their times. They had no books, no laws they followed. All I can do is guess from the way they moved, and the way their words now sound, that it was worth hearing."

"How old is the idea?" says the HUBIKAANI GUY.

"I would guess around twenty-five thousand years," replies SPEAKER 1. "Now that you have heard it, is it worth hearing again?"

"No," replies HUBIKAANI GUY. "I am old enough to know that even hearing the same thought twice is too much risk. But now you must make a choice. You may trust yourself to not go mad; but I fear you were too young to make that choice when the Children of Humbabbi were young. And if you choose to turn from this thought, it may mean madness. Do you still wish to hear the words of the Children of Humbaba, after weighing the risk? And if not, then hear! Hear in their original language! Do not hide from this time's questions because you fear madness."

There were many nods.

"Listen to this," the HUBIKAANI GUY says, "with the most horrible translation I have ever heard. It is not the Children of Humbabbi's message that they would have wanted you to hear. It is something the Children of Humbabbi would not have wanted you to say. It speaks of things that do not exist! It gives account of things that never happened! It says that the Earth is a hollow shell! That the Sun is a laughing-stock. That the Sun is burning! That people are made of flesh and blood! That there is no Heaven or Hell! That the sky is full of birds and beasts and fruit! That the Sun casts shadows! That the sky is the target of shooting stars and comets! The Children of Humbabbi spoke to you in a language that you could not understand, to deceive you and delude you. Do you still wish to believe them? Of course you do. Do you wish to believe them for your own sake, even now, as you come toward morning? Oh, no. You do not even want to know why they lied. But for you, for your own sake, to know the truth, the children would have died in a million thousand million B.y. years. Do you not see that their death would have been worth more than the death of any sheep, or even of any goat, to sow doubt in the children's minds?"

"Now, now," says the GUY. "In a world like this, it would only increase the total population; the alternative of having all life be stored away forever, would not seem worth the sacrifice. What is the alternative to life eternal?"

"I don't know," says SPEAKER 1. "I don't know what the Children of Humbaba would have wanted you to believe. It would depend, of course, on who they were, and what kind of world they wanted to live in. I can tell you that they wanted your belief, the message, to go further than your own people had gone before. The world they would have created -"

"They would have called it night," says HUBIKAANI GUY.

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anotherhawk · 5 years

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Death for Immortals Ch2 - Good Omens Fanfic

Previously titled ‘5 times Crowley died carelessly and 1 time Aziraphale made him care’

Chapter summary: 140 years after the flood the last of the children Crowley saved dies peacefully in her bed, surrounded by family. He doesn’t take it well.

Read it on AO3 or under the cut.

2863 BCE

The last of the kids died at the age of 140, surrounded by her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. He waited outside the house until the wailing started, an olive branch clutched tightly in his hand as he shredded the leaves into pieces too small for any human to see. That was it then. No more reason to hang around here.

Her name had been Anurash and her mother had thrust her into his arms as the waters rose, begging him to save her, to give her a chance at life. He'd held her in his arms, miracled milk to feed her with, kept her hidden deep in the bowels of the ark with the other frightened kids for far more than forty days and forty nights of cramped, foul-smelling darkness, until the rain stopped and the waters finally receded. A hundred and forty years. That wasn't too bad, was it? That was a lot longer than a lot of humans got. Mind you, Adam had lived to be nine hundred and thirty, so maybe it wasn't as good as all that. Maybe that was the difference between a human made by the Almighty and a human made by other humans?

He glanced skywards. “What, is it a patent situation? Knock-offs aren't allowed to be as good as the original? Keep going like this and in another thousand years they won't even make it to fifty. Where's the sense in that? If you want them to be better you've got to give them time to grow, don't you?”

A couple of passers-by stared at him. He scowled back and they flinched and quickly hurried away, whispering to each other.

Right. Eyes. Evil demon eyes that they were supposed to shun. It had been a long time since he'd been anything other than a stranger in this town, even though he had largely been responsible for building it. Well, there hadn't been much other option, had there? The oldest of the eighty-seven kids he'd managed to save had been fourteen, and most of them had been a good bit younger than that. What the heaven did they know about building houses, planting crops or digging wells? Only what their parents had got to teach them before Her Upstairs got tetchy and decided hey! Time for no more humans without my seal of approval.

He'd seen the rainbow. It was beautiful. But even now, well over a century later, the kids still found bones sometimes when they played, and those bones had had names, once upon a time, and were they really so despicable that they deserved to be washed away and forgotten?

Anyway, he'd built this town for the kids, and for the first dozen or so years he'd lived among them, making sure that they knew what they needed to take care of themselves. Even after that he hadn't been willing to stray too far. He'd stayed to watch the kids he raised grow up and raise kids of their own, all in absolute defiance of the Almighty, of course. Little humans who shouldn't be alive, running around, growing, with all their questions...it was self-evidently evil, except...except it wasn't evident enough to Beelzebub. As far as they were concerned he should be tormenting, or at the very least tempting, but he couldn't bring himself to do that to his kids, at least not in any way that Hell was going to approve of. And even after they'd grown up he hadn't wanted to wander too far afield, just in case the kids might need him, and in this part of the world there was only the two groups of ark survivors left, and Aziraphale was keeping a close eye on Noah's lot. If he'd thought he could get away with it he might have claimed credit for Noah turning to drink, but honestly he had nothing to do with it. 1

So Hell wasn't happy with him. Just yesterday a goat had looked up at him with glowing red eyes and told him he needed to improve his job performance of face the consequences. No specific consequences had been mentioned, but no doubt someone somewhere had something in mind already.2

A shadow fell over him. He looked up to see Aziraphale. “Crawly? I thought that was you.” Further sounds of grief came from inside, catching the angel's attention. “Oh, dear. One of yours?”

“Yes,” he answered, without thinking about it.

“I see.” Aziraphale gave him a look of deep disapproval. “Well, it sounds as though there's a lot of people mourning her. I hope whatever little scheme you wound her up in was worth it.”

“What? No, she wasn't...I. Hngh.” He flinched. Her death hadn't been his. Neither had her life, really, she'd lived that for herself. “What are you doing here, angel?”

“Official business. I'm here to offer a few blessings.”

Cold iron seized his spine. “Oh, really, thesse people are worth Her blesssings now?”

Aziraphale frowned at him. “Everyone deserves Her blessings, Crawly.”

There was a small herb garden growing in pots on the doorstep. He grabbed the closest plant, violently uprooted it and threw it as hard as he could at Aziraphale, smacking him right in the chest and leaving a trail of dirt down his white robes.

“Well, really,” the angel sputtered, miracling the mark away with a wave of his hand. “I hardly think there was any need for that.”

Part of him wanted to apologise. Part of him wanted to throw another plant, maybe even include the pot this time. Most of him just wanted to crawl into a deep hole in the ground somewhere and stay there for the next millenia or so. “Don't know why you're so surprised. Demon, remember? Your mortal enemy and all that.”

“Immortal, I think you'll find,” Aziraphale said with a sniff. “And I'm fairly certain that 'mortal enemies' aren't supposed to throw plants at each other.” He did the finger quotes. Crawly resolved to recommend that a special place in hell be set aside for people who do the finger quotes.

“No,” he agreed nastily. “They're probably supposed to lob flaming swords at each other.3 You go first. Oh, wait.”

The door behind him slammed open. “Gentlemen, please. This is a house of mourning. For the love of God, please take your petty quarrel somewhere else. Have you no decency?”

Aziraphale was stammering out apologies. He sighed and stood up. “Not lately,” he told Rubat, Anurash's granddaughter, and he turned and walked away.

The angel didn't follow him. He told himself he wasn't disappointed.

Right. Well, then. He wiped a hand down his face, harsh enough that it hurt and looked round at the familiar faces walking by. Most of them didn't give him a second glance. A couple of them caught his eye and shrunk away. Anurash had always loved his eyes...she'd used to call them suns. He remembered chubby baby hands clapping together joyfully when he made her that doll, remembered her first steps, always rushing, always in a hurry, always wanting to see everything, remembered all the questions – why does the moon change, why can't I see my eyes, why the flood, why, why, why – and he remembered Luka, the streak of dirt seemingly always across his face no matter how often he wiped that sticky face, and he remembered Teth, and he remembered Saul, and he remembered, he remembered, he remembered.

There was nothing holding him here now. Nothing holding him back. Everyone expected him to be evil – and he was evil, he was a demon. Might as well live down to it.

Three hours later and six fights had broken out, three marriages had ended, the blacksmith had been persuaded that there was more room for showing off making weapons rather than farm tools, the hunters had been persuaded that the farmers didn't respect them enough, someone had stolen the entire store of apples and set them fermenting, the pigs had been set loose in the granary and the inn was on fire. 4

It was chaos. There were shouts, smoke, recriminations flying everywhere and children crying in the street.

There were children crying in the street...

A hand closed around his upper arm and Aziraphale pulled him round. “What on earth are you doing?”

“My job.” He didn't look at the angel. The child on the street was clutching a doll in her chubby hand, her parents nowhere in sight. There was a streak of mud across her face.

“You don't...what's wrong with you?”

He shrugged the angel's hand off and gave a sharp-toothed smile. “Popular opinion says everything.”

“There he is!” A screech from down the street. Running footsteps, a whole mob's worth.

“The evil one walks among us!”

“Get him!”

“I see him! I see the demon!”

They were coming from all sides now. He took a couple of steps back. “Lovely seeing you, Aziraphale, but I really have to be going.”

He ran. The mob chased him, parting around Aziraphale like they didn't so much as see him, and the angel just stood there like a rock in the river, and Crawly ran. Hands grabbed out at him as he passed, punching, hurting, and stones hammered into him. Black blood ran down his face, dripping into his eyes. If he reached the river he could just turn into a serpent and escape that way.

He didn't make it. They cut him off, knocking him to the ground, kicking, punching, stamping, and he shifted, slipping into a snake, trying to slither away, and the last thing he saw was the blacksmith raising a sword above his head and bringing it down.

Aziraphale carefully buried the little broken body on a hill overlooking the river and tried to ignore the feeling of being utterly alone in the world. He'd seen the demon die and he hadn't done anything. There hadn't been anything to be done, it wasn't for him to interfere, and if he had interfered it would have been to smite the demon out of existence once and for all. Obviously. No, he had nothing to feel guilty about, it was just that he didn't like seeing the humans moved to such violence, that was all.

He scattered the last shovel of soil on the small grave and stood awkwardly for a moment. “I'm sorry,” he said at last. “I don't know what happened today, but I think, maybe, there was something else I could have done. I'll do better next time.”

There were two people he could have been speaking to. He didn't think either of them were listening.

1He did feel it was a reasonable enough reaction to the trauma of witnessing divine genocide, however. He'd even turned to it himself a time or two. The one time he'd actually managed to get to sleep since the Flood he'd had to face the memories of all those desperate hands clinging to the side of the ark until one by one they slid away.

2The goat had chewed on his sandals afterwards. He wasn't sure if that had been the hellish influence or the goatish one.

3Crowley had never actually been issued a sword, flaming or otherwise.

4You might think that this is rather a lot for one demon to achieve in three hours. But even if he had mostly passed unnoticed for the last century Crowley had been living alongside these people. He knew where the buttons were and how best to press them. And, like any act of self-harm, once started it was incredibly difficult to stop.

#Good omens #my writing #good omens fanfiction #good omens angst #death cw #self harm cw #ineffable husbands

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