↳ Indie ver. of Angel/Angelus "In 243 years I've loved exactly one person..." ✟ Veteran Roleplayer ✟ MS/MV/Bisexual + Canon/AU ✟ MDNI (21+ RP) ✟ Lengthy/Slow Responses ✟ Timeline/AU Flexible ✟ Crossover Friendly ✟ Ships w/ Chem #Buffy #Angel #Supernatural #TVD

❛You were right, all along, about everything....well, no, you weren't right about your mother coming back as a pekinese.❜ — rupert giles 📖 watcher 📖 electronically clumsy 📖 very british ↻ & ♡

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/ I was thinking the same thing when I posted. 😅 The saddest part of all, I really am trying to keep it short, but she's being unreasonable.

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leaned in a little, rose up on her toes...] "Angel?" [She murmurs, his name a whisper on her lips—her gaze dropping to his mouth before lifting to his eyes again.] Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

It's been so long that she can't exactly remember the last time he'd held her in his arms and how much not knowing hurts. Her gaze lifts slowly, from where her hands rest against him, until she meets his eyes. He's so close, close enough that she could just... if she just ++

her palms settling against his chest, and oh—her brain goes quiet, and everything stills. All she can seem to focus on is how he feels, his shirt soft and cool under her fingers as they spread slightly of their own free will against his chest, and she can't help but think how ++

back to him, needing to see his face, needing to see the reassurance that this isn't a really stupid idea—and she nearly collides with his chest because he's right there, closer than she expected, taking up more space than she remembered. Her hands come up instinctively, ++

L.A. One that doesn't include her. One that's moved forward while she's been perpetually stuck in Sunnydale, walking the same cemeteries they'd spent hours wrapped in each other's arms. The feeling surprises her, and her fingers find each other, twisting gently. She turns ++

normal things. Not usually noteworthy. Yet to her, all of it whispered: permanence. Her brow furrows gently. This is his place now. His life. The realization dawns on her, and her smile falters at the small pang of resentment in her chest. He has this whole existence here in ++

too busy cataloging the small details of his apartment to be helpful. The photo frame on his desk. A reading lamp. Books by poets, some of which she recognizes from his place in Sunnydale, none of which she could ever hope to pronounce, stacked neatly beside it. Simple, ++

of it all. At first glance, it's exactly how she'd imagined it would be, which is comforting. Broody, understated, dimly lit. Romantic—(no!)] "So, um… this is… nice." [She laughs softly at herself. She swears she knew other adjectives before walking in here. But her brain's ++

door closed behind them, and she doesn't quite know what to do with herself. Imaginary her had been way more comfortable in imagined scenarios. She turns from him with a sudden interest in anything else, letting her gaze drift around the space, taking in the Angel-ness ++

not supposed to be doing. Space, distance, moving on—that was the plan. A solid plan. Foolproof!) [Her mouth curves into a smile that reaches her eyes, making the green in them sparkle. To hell with plans and common sense.] "—nice. I'd like that, sometime." [She's inside now ++

helpful. Her face goes warm, and her heart relocates to the prime real estate of her throat in one dizzying rush.] "You were thinking about visiting?" [She manages, her lame attempt at pivoting to playful.] "That's—" ( Hello? Dangerous. A terrible idea. Exactly what we're ++

melancholy, wallowing, and months on top of months of Angel-pining. Her brain scrambles for a response, something preferably in the realm of coherent, but the words tangle completely, catching somewhere between her brain and her mouth. The way he's looking at her? So not ++

[He'd missed her. He was thinking about visiting. She's always welcome. She wants to believe him so badly that it almost hurts, but then there's another part of her—a part that sounds suspiciously like common sense—that chides her, reminding her that this way leads to ++

kiz. possibly? i'm not moving from this spot, (or functioning) until giles is returned to me.

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