sp10o0sh

[sp10o0sh]

Charm Person (Chance/Parker)

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Chance is hosting a session of D&D at his apartment! Unfortunately, (Or Fortunately) He cannot stop himself from flirting with Parker.

Tags: Dungeons & Dragons, Slow Build, Slow Burn, First Kiss, First Time, Oral Sex, Fluff and Smut, Fluff, I love Jerry, Not Beta Read, Human AU, Asexual Author writes smut god save us all

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Hey chat omg... I'm so glad y'all freaked with the last writing I wrote, and I hope some of you out there like this one too! I'm so sleep deprived and I'm not sure if I'm even proud of this.. but yk. We ball.

Cross-posted to AO3, under user @/sp10osh (Or Click Here !)

Im so sorry if this sucks dew dew! but I hope it's at least bareable! :3

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Chance stood in the middle of his dining room, surveying the chaos of scattered dice, character sheets, and snacks. The sun dipped low outside, casting a warm glow that danced across the walls. He was always excited to play a session with his friends, but even more so when he was hosting it. They took turns hosting occasionally, but his apartment was a favorite. His dining room was always set up in a way that felt both comforting, and managed to pull his friends into the fantasy realm quickly.  

As he set up the final touches, Chance carefully placed a few candles around the table, his final touch to enhance the atmosphere. He adjusted the lighting, dimming it just enough to create an inviting ambiance without sacrificing visibility. The scent of salty and sweet snacks filled the air with the many bowls he had scattered around, and it did well to mingle with the faint aroma of his favorite incense. With everything in place, he took a step back, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. Tonight, they would continue on their journey through the foggy marsh that they approached at the end of last session. 

Penelope was the first one there, already cross-legged in her chair at the table. Her notes, admittedly, were the prettiest to look at. Pastel highlighters marked the most important beats. She lifted her dice bag to the table, opening it before she retrieved a pretty purple set from inside. She held them up to the light and beamed at Chance. “These roll better,” she said, almost absently, “And they match Maryra’s vibe, Dontcha think?” Her question came out nervous, and she looked towards Chance for approval. 

Chance beamed at her, “Absolutely!” He responded. This was Penelope's first campaign, and Chance was already so proud of how much sincerity she put into learning the game. He opened his mouth to say something else when a knock cut him off. 

When he answered the door, Jerry and Mac were waiting for him. Jerry threw his backpack onto the couch and immediately sprawled out at the table with a sketchpad. He always claimed he wasn't much of an artist, but the group disagreed. Seeing him sketch out everyone's character made everyone feel a bit giddy. His character had originally started off as “just a guy with a sword or something,” but now Jerry explained to Penelope vague details about family betrayal and twin brothers lost at sea. He had already worked on it with Chance, and filled Mac in on the ride here. “He’s not just a guy,” he said without looking up. “He’s got trauma now.” 

Penelope hummed in approval, “Oooh! Making Kragg sad. I dig it.” 

Mac had two iced coffees in one hand, their other hand steadying their forearm crutch. Chase took one of the coffees from them, smiling. “Penelopes.” Mac said to Chance, who nodded and went to hand her the coffee. 

“You didn't have to get that for me!” Penelope said, flustered by the unexpected gift.

Mac smiled. “I wanted to, you kept talking about how you wanted to try this flavor, so just shush!” They walked with Chance over to the table, sitting down in their spot next to Jerry. “Besides, It gets me more points to buy more coffee! Next time I'll be able to have free coffee! So I’m saving money, or whatever.” Mac wore a loose jacket covered in enamel pins, which they draped over their chair as they sat down. 

Looking over his notes, Chance placed a finger on his lip, thinking. “Mac, is Roven keeping the talking sword from last time?”

“Okay,” they said, placing their hands on the table in front of them dramatically. Then they pretended to think about it for a moment. “It's totally cursed, right?” Chance didn't reply, and Mac sighed dramatically, thinking some more. “I do think Roven would definitely keep the cursed talking sword, and would like… research it.” Chance gave a thumbs-up. Penelope gasped and cheered quietly, delighted. Jerry only nodded along, busy with his own character details.

Parker, for his part, had planned on arriving early but got caught up on organizing his character details into more detailed and thought out notes, and then looking up more details about everything he could possibly do with his character, and by the time he left it was later than intended. Now he had arrived, and Chance met him at the door. “Hello Traveler, how nice of you to join us!” 

Parker rolled his eyes, but smiled despite himself. “I didn't mean to be late, but oh golly! I have so many things to show you and ask about!” He explained as they walked to the table. Chance's heart swelled as he listened to Parker ramble on. He cared deeply for Parker, probably beyond a platonic level, (definitely on some level of romantic, if he thought about it for more than a moment,) but he never allowed himself to think too deeply into it. It was moments like this that helped remind him exactly why. Parker took his seat next to Penelope at the table, who seemed nervous as he babbled on to Chance about multiclassing. 

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Eventually, at the head of the table, Chance clapped his hands together from behind his DM screen, “Who’s ready to start?” His cheerful dialect seemed to infect the table around him as enthusiastic nods and approval answered him. His notes were in perfect disarray and the pre-session feelings of excitement washed over him. 

By the time everyone had snacks within reach and pencils sharpened (or, in Jerry’s case, chewed beyond recognition), Chance began. He flipped a page in his notebook, eyes scanning notes written in hasty scribbles, Then he looked up with a sly smile:

“As the mist beings to swirl around this group of adventure seekers, the air thickens with an eerie silence, broken only by the distant croak of unseen creatures. The marsh stretches before you, beckoning you deeper into its embrace. Shadows dance among the trees, and the faint glimmer of phosphorescent fungi illuminates the path ahead. With each step, the ground squelches beneath your feet, and an unsettling feeling of being watched creeps up your spine.

The journey through the foggy marsh is laced with uncertainty, yet the promise of a small town with details on the missing prince's whereabouts is rumored to be within the center. This is what pushes you forward. As you navigate the treacherous terrain, the weight of your quest settles upon your shoulders, You begin to wonder if you will even be able to find the missing prince, let alone save him…”

And just like that, the heroes forged onward. And in no time, hours had passed between many interactions and mini battles.  

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Chance explains that there is a figure wrapped in a cloak drawing near to the group, its intentions unknown. Sensing the impending encounter, he grants the party a moment to strategize and take action before they close the distance between them, allowing them to prepare for whatever fate awaits them.

“I hide in a hole,” Jerry said, deadpan, glancing down at his dice. “Kragg sinks into the marsh to hide.” giggles pass around the table. 

“As Kragg slips into the soft ground, he can feel small creatures pass up to his legs, touching him in a way that leaves an unsettling tickle on your skin.” Chance said behind the screen, trying not to laugh.

“Oh he panics now, actually.” 

Mac leaned over to look at the map, laughing, then they then turned to Chance, “Roven is going to try to help Kragg out of the hole.” Penelope agrees, and says she will also help. Parker decides to keep watch on the figure while they help Jerry. 

Once freed, Chance continues on, 

“A figure draped in a dark cloak approaches the adventurers, his voice is smooth and inviting. ‘Greetings, brave souls. I saw you from my watchtower, and I am but a humble guide, here to lead you to my village nestled beyond the hills. These swamps are dangerous to try to navigate  at night…’ As he gestures toward the distant glow of lanterns, He’s vague, and you can't get a good read on him.” 

Parker narrowed his eyes. “Is he being honest?” 

“Could you roll an insight check?” 

“Drats. That's only a seven.” Parker mumbles Back. 

“To the best of your knowledge, He is being Honest.” 

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Chance taps his fingers on the table with a quiet rhythm. “The cloaked figure leads you through the swamp with surprising ease. Every time you think the path disappears, he’s already a step ahead. His lantern casting gold light across tangled roots and sunken stones. After what feels like an hour of walking, you crest a shallow ridge. Below you is a village: quiet, half-sunken into the swamp, but flickering with warm lights. A wooden sign creaks overhead. Blamewood Hollow.”

“I’m already suspicious,” Jerry muttered. “Sketchily named towns have at least two ghosts and a murder rate.”

“I think it sounds charming,” Penelope said. “Maryra links arms with the stranger. ‘Tell me, do you have a tavern, or do your people just sip moonlight and speak in riddles?’ She asks.”

Chance cracked a smile, but continued smoothly. “He laughs, a soft sound. ‘We have both, actually.’ He glances toward Parker, well, toward Callen. ‘I believe you’ll find it… welcoming.’”

Parker blinked, Slowly, then in rapid succession. “Did he just flirt with me?”

“I don’t know,” Chance said coolly, flipping a page in his notes. “Would you like to roll an insight check?”

“Oh my god,” Penelope said under her breath, blinking at Mac, who blinked back.

“I’m not rolling again,” Parker muttered, “I’m emotionally vulnerable and acting on instinct.”

“Very well,” Chance said, looking at something behind the screen. “The man offers to lead you into the inn. It’s crooked, quiet, filled with the scent of unnerving, yet somewhat welcoming smoke. A plump innkeeper in an apron greets you with a wry smile and a raised brow.”

“I immediately walk up to her and start asking questions,” Jerry said. “Kragg is not here to be seduced by haunted villagers. He wants soup and the truth. Where is everyone? What’s the death rate? Any disappearances lately? I’m rolling intimidation.”

“Jerry,” Mac said, barely suppressing laughter.

“No, no,” Chance said, glancing down. “Roll it.”

Jerry rolled, then clapped excitedly. “Eighteen.” 

“The innkeeper flinches slightly,” Chance narrates, slowly. “‘We keep to ourselves,’ she says, eyes darting toward the window. ‘Strangers don't always do well here after dark.’”

“See?” Jerry said triumphantly. “Ghosts.”

“Roven leans in gently,” Mac said, “and asks if there’s someone we could talk to. Like… a village leader. Or someone who knows about the Prince and where he went.”

“‘That would be the warden, Tumlous,’” Chance replied in character. “‘But he hasn’t come down to town in days. You're welcome to rest here for the night.’”

“I will not be resting,” Jerry muttered.

Chance nodded. “Very well.” 

Meanwhile, Parker leaned closer to the table. “Callen is going to speak with the cloaked man again. Just… see what else he can learn.”

Chance glanced up briefly, voice shifting. “‘You look tense,’” the man says, stepping into the firelight. “‘Surely it’s not me that has you on edge?’”

Parker blinked. “I, uh, Callen shrugs. ‘You’re very confident for someone wandering around in the dark.’”

“‘Confidence is survival,’ the stranger murmurs. ‘Especially for people like us. We walk between two worlds, don’t we?’”

“People like us?”

“Oh my god,” Penelope whispered.

Mac leaned in. “Is your NPC hitting on him again?”

“I’m just delivering the lines,” Chance shrugged, perfectly composed. “‘I imagine your work must keep you terribly busy. But I could offer you something simpler. Quiet. A place to rest. Just for tonight.’”

Parker had his face in his hands. “Callen says, ‘I’m… not… Well, uh..’”

“‘What is it, Little songbird?’” Chance replied, voice lower now. “He circles around you, running a finger along your lyre, ‘What is it you need?’ He asks, leaning down to your ear to whisper that last line.’”

Gasps echoed around the table as Parker sat there, mouth agape. He frantically busied himself with his notes, muttering about spells and whatnot. Chance watched the flush that spread across Parker's face, amused and proud all at once. This wasn't the first time he had flirted with his friends while playing, but based on the looks Mac and Penelope were giving him, he wasn't being so subtle. 

“I freakin’ knew it,” Penelope whispered to herself.

Jerry slammed his die down. “Kragg will be barricading the inn door, thank you. I will not be murdered in my sleep because the bard has the hots for mysterious swamp men.”

Mac, laughing so hard they had to lean on the table, added, “Roven’s going to follow the guy when he leaves. From a distance. Very suspiciously.”

Chance smiled, still effortlessly in control of the scene. “As you settle into your rooms and the night creeps deeper into Blamewood Hollow, you can’t help but wonder: was it just a warm welcome… or a warning?” 

He leaned back in his chair, and smiled at Parker, who was watching him like he was glowing. 

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The next morning, Against Mac’s better judgement, the party set out to the center of the swamp, and made their way through a haunted abandoned temple. By the end of the session, Kragg’s beard was cursed, Maryra had acquired an ancient lute with a soul trapped inside it, Roven had at least three moral dilemmas, and Callen had written down three different temple names no one else remembered hearing.

“Next week,” Chance said, stacking his notes, “we head east into the mountains.”

“That’s where the Order of the Cracked Sol is based, right?” Parker asked, flipping through his notes.

Chance blinked, his face heating up as he babbled out his words, “Holy crit. You remembered that?”

“Yeah,” Parker said, quietly. “I remember stuff you say.”

Chance smiled, small and real. “Well. I.. Uh yeah! That one!” He laughed. 

Mac stood up with a stretch, using their crutch to balance as they slung their bag over one shoulder. “You guys seriously need to get this sorted out before some of our characters kiss by accident.”

Penelope nodded solemnly. “They’re absolutely going to kiss by accident.”

“They are not going to kiss,” Parker replied.

“I didn’t say it would be bad,” Mac said, already heading to the door.

Chance tapped his pencil once against the table, then looked across at Parker again. “But if they did…”

Parker froze.

“…would it really be an accident?” He winked, and Chance laughed. Parker laughed along, but he had no idea if it was supposed to actually be a joke. He felt very conflicted. 

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The front door shut with a final thump as Mac called out a cheerful, “Later, geeks!” Penelope and Jerry had already gone ahead, arguing about whether bards were overpowered or just overused. Then it was quiet.

Parker lingered near the edge of the table, eyes still scanning over his character sheet like something new might appear if he stared hard enough. Chance was in the kitchen, collecting mugs and empty chip bags, humming something soft under his breath.

“I can help,” Parker said, already stepping forward before the words fully formed.

Chance looked over his shoulder, smiled. “Thanks. That table’s always a battlefield after we finish.”

Parker followed him into the kitchen, brushing his shoulder against the doorframe on the way in, and then stood awkwardly at the counter, unsure what to do with his hands. He reached for a mug, fumbled it, and caught it just before it hit the floor.

“Holy crit!” Chance turned, eyebrows raised, a grin creeping across his face. “Nice reflexes.”

“I… I rolled high?” Parker said automatically, then closed his eyes in horror. “That was… never mind.”

“No,” Chance said, laughing. “I liked it. It was cute. Funny.” He corrected himself. 

After that, they moved slowly around each other in the narrow kitchen, Parker rinsing dishes, Chance drying them. Naturally, eventually their hands touched over the same spoon, and both of them drew back a little too fast.

“Sorry,” Parker said, voice tight.

“It’s okay,” Chance replied, looking everywhere except directly at him.

There was a long pause while the faucet ran and the hum of the refrigerator filled the silence. Chance leaned his hip against the counter, folding a towel in nervous hands. They were never this awkward, but anxiety hummed within his chest. He tried to find the words to ease the tension, but he couldn't. 

“You were really into it tonight,” was all he could supply. “The game, I mean. I can tell when someone’s actually paying attention to what I build.”

Parker nodded quickly. “I mean, yeah. It’s amazing. You think of things I wouldn’t. The stones? The way you tied in Mac’s patron? It’s like…”

Chance looked over. “Like what?”

“It’s like you’re playing a campaign inside our campaign,” Parker said, fumbling with his own hands anxiously as he rambled on, his face growing hotter as he spoke. “Like.. you know everything before we do. And I… I like figuring out how your brain works.”

Chance blinked. “That’s... probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about my weird swamp dungeon.” He laughed nervously. 

“I mean it,” Parker said, quieter now, suddenly conscious of how close they were standing. “I always want to know what you’re thinking.”

Chance looked at him for a moment, unreadable. “Sometimes I’m thinking about how much you notice.”

Another pause. The air felt static.

Parker opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then as Chance reached past him to grab the sponge, his brain short-circuited entirely, and he jumped back, then laughed awkwardly, wiping his forehead absentmindedly.

“Oops! Haha! Sorry! I don't know why I did that!” Parker blurted out. He opened his mouth again, to say something else, but nothing came out this time. 

Chance laughed, awkward and shaky, rubbing the back of his neck. Then he reached past him again, slowly this time, and turned off the sink.

“You wanna stay a little longer?” he asked. “I could show you the map for next week, let you.. Uhm, see into my head some more?”

This calmed Parker down, and he took a deep breath, “Only if I get to ask twenty more hyper-specific questions.”

Chance nodded, “I would expect nothing different.” 

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Chance pulled out his campaign binder from a tote bag tucked away by the kitchen island, flipping it open to a fold-out map drawn in colored pencil and smudged ink. “So this,” he said, laying it across the table, “is the Shardspine Mountains. You’re headed here next week… unless, of course, by some miracle, Penelope seduces the cursed lute and rewrites the plot.”

Parker leaned in, his shoulder brushing lightly against Chance’s. He was close, close enough for Chance to smell the floral hints of his shampoo and feel the soft warmth of his breath when he spoke. 

Bless him, Parker was looking over everything with such care and grace. He dragged his fingers across the ink, biting his bottom lip as he took in the details Chance was sharing with him. His attention to detail, details Chance had created, was driving him crazy. He felt lightheaded and dizzy in all the good ways. 

Parker pointed at a small, jagged pass. “Wait, what’s this? A side path?” 

Chance tried to answer. He really did. But Parker was leaning closer, chin almost hovering near his shoulder, and the sound of his breath near Chance’s neck was doing something completely unreasonable to his ability to form coherent thoughts. “Holy crit.” 

“Sorry?”

Chance closed his eyes, exhaled, and stepped back half a foot. “Okay,” he said, abruptly. “I have to say this before I combust.”

Parker blinked, startled. “Say what?”

“I’ve been trying to be so, so, very cool about it,” Chance said quickly, voice rushing and color rising in his face, “but you’re standing there breathing on my neck like it’s nothing and I’m just supposed to keep talking about elevation grades and..” He waved his hand around “Whatever else like I’m not losing my mind over how stupidly hot I think you are.”

Parker’s eyes widened. Then he laughed. A small, surprised sound.

“You think I’m hot?” he said. “I'm not… I'm hardly…” He babbled, waving his hands around defensively. “Youre so much hotter than me, and like.. I still can’t think because of earlier and..” 

Chance froze. “Wait. what?”

“I’m serious,” Parker said, half-breathless now, unable to look into Chance's eyes. “You can’t just flirt with me as a character and not expect me to think about it all night. It's like you knew that I… uh.. you…”

Chance ran his hands over his face, partly hiding himself due to the embarrassment of it all. 

“And like we get close all the time! If you hadn't done all that earlier we wouldn't be so guh-! And gah-! You know?” he rambled, backing up against the table to give himself space to breathe. “If anything I should be the nervous one! Like.. a character whispering in my ear and..!” 

Chance peaked between his fingers, just as flustered but seemingly feigning confidence. “You liked that?”

“I loved that,” Parker said, then coughed. “I think I really like you. Outside of like… playing characters and stuff.”

The air felt like it changed. Not that it actually had, but an understanding passed through them. Chance slowly lowered his hands and gave Parker a look, a movie-perfect mixture of fuck-it and fuck-me. He stepped forward. Parker was rooted to the floor, hands gripping the table behind like an anchor, knuckles bloodless and shaking.

Chance reached out, not for Parker’s face or hand, but around him, resting palm flat on the table, inches from where Parker held on. “I really like you.” Chance mumbled, looking at Parker over the rim of his glasses as he moved further into his space. “More than I've ever liked anybody before.” 

“Chance,” Parker said. He barely heard his own voice above the pulse in his head. There was a pause. Parker's voice had been raw with honesty, trembling between fear and hope, and it made Chance’s throat dry. 

“I've felt this way for so long, I think,” Chance said, voice soft. “I was so scared of making any moves outside of the characters, the games, all of that… It’s fun, but oh, Parker, I want you. Not just you in my head.” 

Parker stared at him, flummoxed, “I, oh golly! Oh Jesus. Okay. Um.” He looked up to Chance, “You want me?” he giggled, enjoying the way this attention made him feel.

“Ever since you first did that stupid wizard voice, in our first oneshot” Chance said, barely holding it together. “You never notice how much it affects me but I,” He made an odd strangled sound, equal parts laugh and groan. “God, I sound insane.”

“No,” Parker said. He was close now. “You sound like someone that knows what he likes.”

"So," Chance didn't get the chance to finish his question, as Parker's lips suddenly met his own. It was a brief kiss, trembling with uncertainty and nerves, but it was enough to convey Parker's intentions. Parker's fingers tangled in Chance's hair, holding him close, while Chance let out a groan against his lips.

"Is this okay?" Parker murmured, his breath mingling with Chance's in the space between them.

"Yes, so much more than okay. It’s perfect. You’re perfect." Chance replied, his voice filled with eagerness, sincerity, and longing. "I'll do whatever you want." He said. The flush that crept up Parker's cheeks and down his neck was unmistakable. 

Chance is not a confident man by any means. Alas, He wanted nothing more than to please Parker. They were frozen for a moment until Chance was struck with an idea. With a playful smirk, Chance leaned closer, his lips brushing against Parker's ear as he whispered, "Tell me what you want, Little Songbird." He was always more confident when DMing. 

Parker's response was an affirmative whine, a soft gasp that tickled Chance's ear, sending a shiver down his spine. He liked it just as much as Chance enjoyed doing it. Parker refused to meet Chance's eye, muffling something that was half a laugh, half a plea. “At least take me to your bed, hm?” 

“Okay,” Chance laughed, nodding. “Come with me.” Parker’s hands found his waist as they walked, grabbing onto Chance’s hoodie as if it could steady him. The walk down the hall was a blur. Parker’s legs felt like they belonged to someone else, he barely registered the nerdy posters on the wall, or the shelf of minis. 

Chance’s fingers found Parker’s jaw, guiding him to meet his lips. It was longer this time, sweeter. Despite the desperation both of them felt in their body, it was full of tenderness. He leaned back, breaking just enough to look Parker in the eye. “Is it inappropriate to say I really love you?” Had they not been friends before this, maybe, but right now, it was the only emotion either of them felt. 

Parker smiled. “I love you too.” he replied bashfully. 

Chance felt high off of the love he was feeling, and was already pressing another kiss to Parker’s jaw, guiding him to sit down on his bed. Parker let Chance lead him, happy to follow along. 

“You’re gonna break me,” he muttered between kisses, or tried to. It came out softer, breathier, strange to his own ears.

Chance gently pushed him down on his pillows and hovered over him. He brushed the hair from his eyes. “Do you want that?” He asked. 

Parker gasped in response. “Yes. Well, I mean. Can we start off..? I really would like that! I just..” He babbled, growing more nervous again. “I'm kind of.. Well… this is my first time with someone else… I’m Sorry-” Parker so desperately wished he were cooler. He wished he knew what to do with his hands. He wished he had any experience to help him. He wanted nothing more than to do something for Chance in the way he was doing so much for him. 

When he started babbling out senseless apologies, Chance took his cheek in his hand tenderly. “Don’t apologize for being inexperienced, silly.” He said gently. “I’ve got you, I’ll take good care of you.” 

Parker whined, the reassurance had almost felt better than anything else that night. Almost. Chance’s thumbs skimmed across Parker’s cheekbones, and his mouth dragged soft and deliberate along the line of Parker's jaw. 

Chance’s mouth found the place behind his ear that made him gasp when soft praises were whispered to him. And when Chance trailed a hand along his side he gasped, arching up into his hips without thinking.

"Still good?" Chance asked, his voice so close to Parker’s ear it tickled. 

"Oh gosh, yes," Parker whined, his words tinged with a desperate longing. "Will you please..."

"Yes, songbird?" Chance responded, his thumb gently tracing over Parker's hip through the soft fabric, each movement drove Parker crazy. "I've got you, I promise."

"My clothes off. Your mouth. On me," Parker babbled, the words tumbling out in a fervent mess. 

"Say it again," Chance murmured, his breath everywhere at once, hands sliding teasingly under the hem of Parker's t-shirt. "What do you want?"

"I want your mouth," Parker said, eyes wide and stringing with nerves. He could barely breathe, let alone be bold enough for this, but Chance's answer was to press him back into the cool, scattered bedsheets and force him to look into his eyes. “Please.” 

Chance stripped him, slowly, careful not to startle him. He shed Parker’s shirt and then his own, not breaking eye contact, not letting the moment get away from them. Parker’s arms prickled with chill and anticipation, and then with heat as Chance lowered his mouth to Parker’s collarbone, dragging teeth along the skin there. 

Parker arched up, not entirely on purpose, not entirely by accident, and the friction where their bodies met was dizzying, ridiculous. There was nothing careful about the way Chance bit, this time a soft marking, just for Parker, one that said,I want you to remember this in the morning.

Taking his time, Chance lowered his hands to Parker's pants, undoing them and slipping them off him with care. He set them on the ground next to them, then ran a hand along Parker's boxers. “So pretty,” He mused as he guided his hands along his thighs and waist. He made a point to ignore the wet patch that longed for his attention, only periodcly supplying him some friction to keep him sane.

It wasn't until Parker was gasping out in broken pleas for Chance to really touch him did he slip his boxers off.

Chance's lips parted, taking in the length of Parker's dick into his mouth. He felt the smooth skin sliding against his tongue as he moved up and down, eventually falling into a rhythm that made Parker want to cry in ecstasy.

Parker arched, hands clutching at Chance’s shoulders, his whole body felt like it was near the breaking point. His teeth clicked together as he tried to muffle the noises spilling out, but Chance was merciless, pulling a gasp from Parker with every bob of his head. It was overwhelming, more than anything Parker had imagined during walks home after sessions, more than every half-drunk fantasy he had whispered into his pillow. 

Chance glanced up, eyes dark with want, his glasses askew and slightly fogged up. And Parker saw himself reflected in his eyes, so desperate, but also so safe, so impossibly safe. He reached a shaky hand down, threading his fingers through Chance’s hair, not guiding, just needing contact, grounding. Chance hummed in approval, and the vibration ran the length of Parker’s body, dragging a helpless moan out of him. “God, Chance-” it was a plea, or it was supposed to be. He tried to warn, stammered, “I’m—gonna—” but it blurred into a choked, shuddering silence, arching his back up as his orgasm washed over his body. 

When he looked down again, Chance’s mouth was stretched into a smile around him, smug and sweetly mean. He didn’t stop. He swallowed, and drug a stripe of tongue along Parker’s skin, then pressed a final kiss to his hip, like some sort of signature. 

Parker fell back, vision blurring with the haze of it all. He panted at the ceiling, chest rising and falling as he came down from his high. His hand became lazy, seeking arcs through the air until it found Chance’s shoulder, who was busy catching his breath by laying his head on Parker's thigh, and yanked him up. “Do you need..?” 

Chance let himself be dragged, sprawled half across Parker’s ribs, soft where his cheek flattened against Parker’s chest. “Oh no, trust me,” Chance chuckled, growing bashful. “I’ll need to change my underwear… hah..” Embarrassed, Parker covered his face with his free hand, but all the while he felt a sense of pride in his chest. 

Chance let Parker pet his head for a bit until he stood up. 

When he stood up, Parker called out and nearly panicked, “Where are you going?” He asked, reaching out for Chance's arm. 

Chance smiled sweetly, and kissed his sweat covered forehead. “I’m going to go get some water, and some leftover M&Ms from earlier. Then I'm going to get a cool washcloth and some of my clothes for us. I’m not leaving you, I promise.” 

Parker's breathing evened out, and he nodded. “Okay…” He agreed. Chance leaned down and kissed his forehead softly. 

“I won’t leave you, I’ll be right back, I promise.” He held out his pinky, and though it seemed childish, Parker completed the pinky promise. 

True to his word, Chance returned quickly, in fresh, clean, clothes. He helped Parker drink some water, then handed him a small bowl of M&Ms to snack on as he helped Parker get dressed in some of his clothes. Chance then climbed into bed next to him and wiped off his forehead with the washcloth. 

Parker, overcome with a new sleepiness that he didn't know he possessed, curled up on Chance, and yawned softly. “I feel like.. We got sidetracked…” 

Chance laughed, taking his glasses off and setting them on the nightstand. “How do you mean?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at Parker as he rubbed small circles onto his back. 

“Your map. The map. You have to show me the map tomorrow.” He declared. “And explain it all to me.. And.. Yeah.” 

Chance smiled. “I’d be delighted, Parker.” 

[sp10o0sh]

AGRGEGGEGGEEHEHEHE 🤭🤭🤭🤭

i just think they’re neat 🤭

[sp10o0sh]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☁️ : Introduction Post ࿐ྂ* ˚✦

🚪﹐ıllı @Sp10o0sh ──🪱˙🫀 !! ﹒

   🎪 ⊹.* Greyson/Grey ┆★ ˙ᵕ˙      

He/Him !? ⋆˚ 🕷️˖° INTP ⋆˚ 🎭 . !! ˖° Cancer ᝰ.ᐟ

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 👁️ ⋅ ˚✮

─── ･ ｡ﾟ📼 : INTRO

Hello! :3 My name is Greyson, but you can call me Grey. I’m new to actually posting on tumblr, but I’ve been around for a couple years now! I have no idea if I’m doing this right, so please just stick with me.

I like to write, read and draw, and I’m active in a lot of fandoms. Most notably I spend a lot of time interacting with the Magnus Archives content, but I swear I know other things. I love classic and gothic literature, too. I love rambling about my Oc’s, and writing a bunch of random content for them (I might actually make a blog just for them.. idk yet.)

I like D&D, including podcasts and shows of that nature (Dungeons & Daddies.. Dimension 20.. (they took my wife and kids and are holding me hostage.)) I also like a bunch of different anime and mangas and I’m not going to try and list a bunch of them. I like Sonic, and musicals, CRK, Pokemon, PJSK, and a bunch of other stuff. I’m all over the place.

My favorite animals are Bilbies and Bats. I also love My Chemical Romance and Ghost. I also love the color orange :D

My birthday is July 16, and I start college in the fall (SAVE ME). I love talking to new people and getting to make friends so feel free to reach out or whatever! I have no idea what else to put here, so I hope this intro was somewhat helpful in getting to know me.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 👁️ ⋅ ˚✮

─── ･ ｡ﾟ📼 : REQUESTING / LIMITS

My requests for fanfic are absolutely completely open! I will write for a bunch of fandoms, and I will write a bunch of different types of fics! Fluff, Angst, Slowburn, Smut, all that Jazz :3

Feel free to request what you want, and I’ll see about making it happen! I hit writers block a lot, and I found that having requests from other people make it easier to write!

I won’t write anything illegal, immoral or anything that makes me feel gross, so just keep that in mind.

For artwork requests, they’re a little different, I’m open to doodle requests, but might not always get to them!

And technically, I have open commissions if that tickles your fancy, but 🤷‍♂️ it’s ultimately not a big deal to me! The limits for artwork are the same as fanfic!

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 👁️ ⋅ ˚✮

─── ･ ｡ﾟ📼 : LINKS

Below you will find links to my other profiles/places you can find me. Feel free to reach out on any of them!

Instagram | Pinterest | Tik Tok | Straw Page

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 👁️ ⋅ ˚✮

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☁️ : Bye Bye! ࿐ྂ* ˚✦

[sp10o0sh]

my curse is that I am a young person who doesn’t watch movies so I’ll hear someone reference a relatively popular movie and my first though will immediately be “they talked about that on dungeons and daddies”

[sp10o0sh]

Critical Chill (Chance/Parker/M!Reader)

Experiencing GM burnout, you invite Chance to a game night with your mutual friend, and your roommate, Parker. You hope to make him feel better by distracting him with fun games and silly banter.

Tags: Fluff, Slow (ish) burn, Feelings Realization, Cuddling, Platonic Cuddling, Polyamory, Male Reader-Insert, Might be slightly OOC, I'm Bad At Tagging, Not Beta Read, Getting Together, Human AU

˗ˏˋ꒰ ♟️ ꒱

Honest to god, this was a joke at first. My friend was supposed to talk me out of writing this, and he didn't. So, I threw in a little Easter egg for him (Hi Eddie Ilysm King) Date everything has taken over my life, and it will not stop rotting away my already minimal brain cells. I also love Parker a LOT and he might actually be tied for my top bbg. Mitchell Linn is still everything to me tho.. Cross-posted to AO3, under user @/sp10osh (Or Click Here !) I don't know what else to put here.. Sorry gang. I don't know how to use Tumblr.. But I promise I am learning! or trying.. so be nice. Any tips r appreciated lol :3

Also Requests are totally welcome, and I will write like.. Almost anything to do with Date everything so... yeah.

Again, Not Beta Read, so I'm so sorry in advance.

˗ˏˋ꒰ ♟️ ꒱

Your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, the screen lighting up with Chance’s name. You wiped your hands on your worn-out favorite shirt and grinned, swiping to answer.

“Hey, Chance! What’s up?”

“Hey!” His voice was warm and a little nervous, like he was holding back a dozen thoughts at once. “So... I was wondering—are you free later this afternoon? Maybe coffee? I could really use a break from my own brand of chaos.” 

You glanced around your shared apartment, the morning light filtering through dusty blinds and pooling on the faded rug. The place was a patchwork of Parker and your personalities: mismatched furniture scavenged from thrift stores, a sprawling bookshelf bursting with fantasy novels, G&G rulebooks, records stacked in a corner, and dozens of potted plants, some thriving, some quietly dying. Parker insisted on keeping them, he said that they kept the air clean. 

You peeked into the living room, where Parker was draped over the couch, tangled in the heap of blankets, His colorful hair stuck out in wild tufts, and a half-deflated stress ball was clenched loosely in his hand. He groaned dramatically as you caught his eye. 

Late afternoon meant late for Chance. Admitly, probably too late for coffee, but your sleep schedule was already pretty messed up, and you would never turn down a hangout with your friend. “Well,” you began, smiling, “coffee sounds perfect, and I’m free.”

“Awesome,” Chance replied. “I’ll text you the details.”

Before you could say bye, Chance beat you to it, and the line dropped dead. He must've been extremely busy. He always said goodbye. You put your phone back on the counter and made your way to stand by the couch, where Parker had started attempting a slow, exaggerated stretch that reminded you of some inhuman entity, waking up from a deep slumber.

“Finally awake?” you teased.

Parker groaned again, throwing a pillow at you but missing by a mile. Instead of replying to your teasing, he just waved his hand. “Ugh. That guy! I haven’t heard from him in like a week! Why didn't he invite me too?” 

You laughed, dropping down beside him. “Don’t be jealous. He probably has just been busy. He sounded distracted, anyway..”

Parker gave you a sideways glance, one brow raised, then pretended to dramatically wipe sweat from his brow. “Oh, I’m not jealous,” he said, voice dripping with mock sincerity. “I just can’t believe I wasn't invited to watch you be Mega-Gay for him.”

You nudged him playfully. “It’s a normal amount of gay, thank you very much.”

The two of you sat quietly for a moment, the familiar hum of the city drifting through the cracked-open window mixing with the distant sound of a neighbor’s singing (If it could be called that, It was honestly a rough listen. Something about showers?) practice. Your crush on Chance wasn't something Parker actually knew about. What he was referring to was a joke that started with your G&G campaign. Your character has romanced one of the NPCs, which, naturally, led to very fun character flirting that all your friends loved to tease you about. Eventually, that led to silly jokes when you would all get together. 

In reality, you did have a massive crush on your friend. Not only Chance, but Parker too. He made your heart flutter in all the best ways. He was kind, funny, and so so thoughtful. He was the reason you were able to get back on your feet after a messy fight with your last landlord. Telling either of them this, though seemed to be strictly off limits, as they were two of the best friends you had ever made. 

Your gaze drifted to the kitchen counter, stacked with a jumble of mugs, a half-empty jar of peanut butter, and the infamous “coffee machine that never quite works.” Parker had insisted it added character. It did not.

“Soooooo, you’re definitely going to ask him why he hates me, anad refuses to see me, right?” he asked, nudging your knee gently.

You laughed, heart skipping. “Sure, Parker. If it eases your mind, I’ll make sure to ask.”

Parker burst out laughing. “Make him regret not asking me to come too!”

You shook your head, smiling at how easy it was with him. It was moments like this, quiet, ridiculous, comfortable, that made you wonder if maybe there was something more to what he felt as well. He would let his touches linger, and stare longer than necessary on occasion. You shook your head faintly, and reminded yourself that's just how he was. 

Parker caught your lingering look and followed your glance to the sink, then he gave you a goofy grin. “Don’t worry,” he said, nudging you again, “I’ll do the dishes while you're out!”

You smiled back, warmth blooming in your chest.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

˗ˏˋ꒰ ♟️ ꒱

True to his word, Chance did send you the details for your meetup. Just like you thought, it was late. Too late for coffee, yet you still ordered a latte. 

The café smells like burnt espresso and cinnamon scones, but you barely notice. You’re too busy watching Chance stir his coffee like he’s trying to will it into being anything but coffee. Which is silly, because he could have ordered any other drink on the menu, so you assumed it wasn't the coffee. He hasn’t said much since you sat down, which is unusual, normally, he’s all jokes and barely-contained chaos by now.

You glance at him over the rim of your mug. “You look like someone is failing all their death saves.”

Chance huffs a laugh through his nose. “Nice. Go ahead, kick a guy while he’s down.”

“I’d never,” you say with a smile. “Not without at least rolling first.” Its cringe-worthy, you know it. Normally Chance is the one cranking out all the G&G related puns, in fast enough succession to make you want to tape his mouth shut, but tonight its you. 

That earns you a faint grin, but it doesn’t last. He slumps in his seat, running his hands over his face, messing his glasses up as he does so. Then, voice quieter than you expect, he mutters:

“I think I’m actually burnt out. Like... seriously.”

You blink, caught off guard. Chance never admits to being tired. He’s the guy who stays up all night prepping NPC dialogue and tracks initiative like a mad scientist. He lives to GM. Or at least, you thought he did. Thinking about it now, it makes sense why he would feel burnt out. You nod sympathetically. 

“Burnt out from running everything?” you ask carefully.

He nods. “Yeah. Campaign’s fun, but every week it’s more like... ‘how do I keep this thing from falling apart?’ I’m behind on prep, work has been so crazy recently and—” He cuts himself off with a frustrated exhale. “I don’t know. I’m just tired, Y/N. And I feel bad about it. Everyone’s counting on me to keep the story going. Im sorry... I just can’t get into the right headspace to GM. I don’t want to half-ass it or make it boring.”

You set your mug down and lean in slightly. “Chance. You don’t have to carry everything. Seriously.”

He shrugs, still not looking at you. “Kinda feels like I do, though.”

“Nope,” you say, not missing a beat. “Not letting you spiral.”

His head lifts, confused. “What?”

“I’m hijacking your evening and weekend,” you declare. “Parker’s been wanting to have a casual game night. Why don’t I call him? Maybe you could come over, relax, and just play without the pressure to run the game.”

Chance squints. “Wait, Parker’s wants to have a casual night?” He asks, completely stopped on the wrong point. “Parker, ‘the-rules-are-sacred’ Parker?”

You shrug, “More or less.” 

Chance smiles, hopeful. “Really? That sounds perfect. I could use a night off.”

You pulled out your phone and dialed Parker's number. It barely rang before your roommate picked up. “Yelllllllow?” His voice lively called through the phone.

“Hey, Parker! So, Chance is feeling kind of burnt out and needs a chill night. Would you be up for a game night tonight? Like, board games, snacks, no stress stuff?”

There was a beat, then Parker’s voice burst through, enthusiastic and loud enough to draw a few curious glances.

“Absolutely! Tell Chance he’s definitely invited! I’ve been itching to throw a game night for weeks. This is perfect!”

You smiled, “Great! We’ll be home around seven?”

“Sounds good! I’ll clean up and everything! Do you want to pick up some snacks?. I can’t wait!”

You replied with an excited hum, and hung up meeting Chances eyes, who was already grinning, looking at you like you were the best person on the planet. 

˗ˏˋ꒰ ♟️ ꒱

You spent the time before seven walking around with Chance to help clear his head, and heading to different convenience stores to pick up snacks. As it approached seven, you made your way back to the apartment complex. As, you and Chance walked through the city streets, the evening air was cool and refreshing. You had switched back and forth on who was holding onto who’s arm now, and chance now had his arm wrapped around yours, as you led him up the stairs to your room. The familiar buzz of anticipation stirred in Chance’s chest as you approached the door.

Parker was waiting at the door, and the moment he saw you both through the peephole, he flung the door open, arms crossed but smiling wide, like he’d been counting down the minutes.

“Welcome to the lair,” he said, gesturing dramatically as he opened the door. “Getting cozy already?” He winked at Chance. 

Chance scoffed, and sat up, untangling his arm from yours. “Nonsense! I was just keeping my dear Fayrus warm on the walk home.” he said dramatically, referencing your G&G character. You laughed, and took a step inside. 

Inside, the apartment was transformed into game central, piles of board games stacked on the coffee table, bowls of snacks scattered around, and cozy blankets strewn about. In the center, the couch had a blanket fort built around it, open to face the coffee table and TV. It was tall enough for you to sit comfortably, but Chance might have to duck slightly. 

Chance looked around, relaxing visibly.

“Thanks for this–”

Parker clapped Chance on the back, cutting him off with a playful smirk. “No worries. Tonight’s about fun. Let’s get started.” he said, taking Chance by the waist and leading him to sit around on the floor, where he picked up the first game of the evening and placed it between the group. 

You settled in beside them, and Parker emptied the game onto the floor. “Alright,” he announced, “first game: Secret Sketch.”

Chance raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“It’s simple,” Parker explained, pulling out a stack of cards with words, a timer, and a sketchpad with markers. “One person draws the word on their card, obviously they can’t speak or use letters or numbers. The other two guesses. five rounds, rounds are over after everyone has drawn once, the highest combined score wins. If you’re drawing, when people guess correctly you get a point for each person who guesses right. If you’re guessing, you get a point for being right.”

You exchanged glances. Lots of explaining the rules, but it made Parker happy so you didnt stop him. “Sounds fun.” you agreed, and Chance nodded. 

Chance smiled, more relaxed now. “Okay, I’m in.” Chance took his Jacket off and set it next to him, then he leaned back on his hands, sitting crisscrossed on the floor near you. Honestly, It was distracting. Chance was attractive, and you weren't sure if he knew exactly how attractive he was. 

Both you and Parker spaced out, staring at his tattooed arms until your faces grew red. When you both pulled your eyes away from his arms and looked back up, Parker bashfully pretended not to notice. 

Clearing his throat, Parker handed the first card to you. You peeked and gasped quietly, mouthing the words to yourself, blinking slowly as you processed the words. “’Octopus playing guitar.’” you bit your lip, pulling it anxiously with your teeth. 

Chance snorted, presumably at your expression. He extended the marker to you.

You took the marker, set the timer, and began your frantic, messy sketching.

The tension melted instantly as laughter bubbled up at the ridiculous drawings. (“Seriously what is that supposed to be?”) 

˗ˏˋ꒰ ♟️ ꒱

After five painstakingly long rounds of sketching you stood up to stretch your legs. Parker had begun to get onto you and Chance for attempting to sneak peaks at each other's cards to make guessing easier. “I’m going to go grab some more snacks, you should set up the next game.” 

You pet Parker's head as you walked by, He was actively rising to sit on his knees, and push the paper explaining the rules into Chance's face. 

As you walked back into the kitchen, you giggled, hearing Parker ask Chance if “The rules really meant nothing to him?!” 

You set the snacks on the counter and let yourself get distracted, watching them banter. They seem lost in their own world, Chance giggling as Parker read out the rules, painstakingly slow to emphasize their importance. They worked together, the kind of easy rhythm that comes from history, from weeks or months of something unspoken hanging in the air. Its not like Chance hated rules, but being a GM meant he was incharge, he made the rules, and followed them, of course he loved rules. It was just fun to mess with Parker. After being friends for so long, it was just an understood rhythm between you guys. 

Deep in thought, you eventually looked back up to see Parker hovering over Chance’s, hands on either side of him, in his best attempt to be intimidating. “What’s the point of playing games if you're just going to cheat!?” He asked. 

Chance looked up at Parker, and you saw something pass through his eyes as he glanced down to Parker's lips, then his face flushed. His hand shakily rose to Parker's side, causing him to shudder and blush in turn. 

“Okay.. You’re right.” Chance stuttered, breathing out. The tension from before was replaced with something else, and you felt giddy. Seeing your two favorite people act so flustered together sent a warm feeling up your spine, and straight to your head. 

Parkers eyes widened, and nodded “Oh-okay…” He muttered, before leaning back from Chance, who seemed to let his hand linger even as Parker pulled away. 

You smiled, and clapped, making your entrance with snacks known. “Ohhkay! Whats next?” You asked, watching them both untangle from each other completely, blushes on their face as Parker began into the next game description.  

You wonder if they know.

If they know that every time Parker’s hand brushes yours when passing game tokens, your heart stutters. If they know that the way Chance leans on your shoulder when he laughs makes it harder and harder not to just… say something. Anything.

˗ˏˋ꒰ ♟️ ꒱

The next game has something with cards and timers and way too many rules, which Parker explains with intense focus while Chance listens with fake seriousness, occasionally winking at you like, I’m going to mess this up on purpose.

And he does.

Every round, he finds a way to break the rules: adding fake points, declaring himself the “wild card,” or, at one point, assigning Parker a completely made-up punishment; “You have to compliment me every time I roll a six.” 

Parker sighs but follows through on his next six, “Your hair. It looks nice. It’s messy, in a cute way. it suits you.” His face flushes, and it spreads down to his neck. His hands shake, and he threatens to drop his card. 

Chance freezes mid-laugh, visibly caught off guard.

You had almost choked on your soda.

Parker notices the silence and frowns. “What?”

Chance clears his throat, looking down at the cards in his hands. “Nothing. Just... not used to those kinds of.. Well.. the nice stuff from you.”

Parker glances at you like he’s looking for someone to help him, but you just smile awkwardly and take a long sip from your drink to hide the fact that your brain is screaming: Say something. Say you like them. Say anything.

But you don’t.

Because they’re them. Brilliant, quick-witted, soft-hearted Chance and meticulous, emotionally-dense Parker. And you’re just... the guy caught between them, falling a little harder every time they look at each other like that. Watching them fight off their feelings for each other, makes you find them both more adorable and endearing. 

˗ˏˋ꒰ ♟️ ꒱

After that game, Chance disappears into the kitchen to hunt for pretzels while Parker sits beside you on the couch, carefully sorting cards back into their sleeves.

“Thanks for kinda throwing this into action,” he says quietly, not looking up. “He really needed it.”

You nod. “I know. Thank you too, for agreeing..”

There’s a pause.

Then, softer he added: “I think I needed it too.”

You look at him. At the way his fingers fidget with the cards. His voice goes small like when he’s feeling too much but doesn’t want to say so. You reach out, and place a gentle hand on his knee. You run your thumb back and forth along his knee, something you did often. Living together, there was more than one occasion where you would cuddle (Purley platonically of course!) to fall asleep, so physical contact wasn't something new to either of you. Yet, he seemed distracted and jumpy tonight. 

“You don’t always have to be in control, you know,” you murmur.

He gives you a quick glance, then looks down again. “Neither does he.” He says, almost defensively, but he stops himself. “I think..-” 

You both look up at the same time when Chance leans back around the kitchen doorway. “You two whispering about me?” he asks, one brow raised, a bowl of pretzels in his hands. He has a pretzel in his mouth as he smirks. 

You smirk. “Only in flattering tones.”

Parker clears his throat, and speaks at the same time as you. “Absolutely not.”

Chance pauses, and all three of you giggle. “Okay, yeah. Definitely whispering about me.” He comes back to sit with you guys as you start the next game. 

Laughter, jokes, quiet moments in between. You try not to let yourself read into every glance, every graze of a hand or brush of a knee. But you do.

Because it’s there.

In the way Parker leans closer when Chance talks. In the way Chance stops filling the silence, like he’s starting to trust it. In the way you find yourself watching them both with your heart doing that dumb stutter it always does.

You’re not sure where this night is going. But you kind of hope it never ends.

The pretzels disappear halfway through a new game that none of you are really playing correctly. The rules are a suggestion at best, something Parker tries to uphold, Chance deliberately misreads, and you... you just sit between them, watching the dynamic shift. Parker doesn’t fight it, Chance relaxes, resting his hand on Parker's leg, and his head on your shoulder. 

Not dramatically. Not suddenly. But gradually; Like the way the air gets warmer just before spring.

Parker’s explaining something about event cards when Chance leans over you to grab a piece of paper. His shoulder brushes yours—warm and solid—and he stays there a beat too long. When he finally pulls back, you catch Parker’s eyes flicking toward the two of you. Brief. Curious.

You wonder if he noticed.

˗ˏˋ꒰ ♟️ ꒱

A little later, when Parker gets up to refill drinks, you and Chance stay sprawled on the floor, game pieces scattered around you like the aftermath of a story that never got finished.

Chance tilts his head, studying you. “You okay?”

You blink. “Me? Yeah, I’m good.”

“You’ve just been kinda quiet,” he says, nudging your ankle with his socked foot. “None of us are ever really quiet...” He jokes.

You smile, soft and a little shy. “Just... enjoying this.”

Chance doesn’t answer right away. He sits back, arms resting on his knees, face half-lit by the soft yellow of lights of the room. There’s a look in his eyes you can’t quite name, not the usual playfulness or faux goofy confidence. Something thoughtful.

“You’re good at this,” he says.

“At board games?” You ask, earnestly. 

He snorts, “At making people feel like they’re not gonna fall apart if they stop pretending everything’s fine,” he says, voice low and honest. “I don’t... Well, Thank you.”

You don’t know what to say to that. So you just smile, and let your foot gently tap his in reply. He doesn’t pull away.

When Parker returns with drinks, he hesitates in the doorway for just a second. You don’t see the look on his face, but Chance does.

And he says, too casually, “You spying, or just admiring the view?”

Parker scoffs but blushes. “If I were admiring anything, it’d be the disaster you made out of the rulebook.”

“Liar,” Chance mutters under his breath, but he’s grinning as he scoots over to make space for him on the floor. You press your lips together to hide your own grin, as he cuddles up to you both. 

Chance yawns softly, and you check the time on your phone. Its nearly midnight. You laugh, asking the others if they want to clean up and put on a movie. They agree and you guys start to pick up. As you are cleaning you notice the way Parker relaxes a little more when Chance laughs. The way Chance goes still when Parker speaks softly. The way you’re starting to ache with how much you care for both of them.

After you guys gave up on cleaning up, you guys snuggle up on the couch fort you built. A movie is playing in the background as you all fought off different stages of sleep. Too tired to sit upright, too comfortable to leave. The board games are still on the floor. The cards are a mess. The blanket you tossed over Chance earlier is now half-draped over all three of you. A warmth spreads through your face, and feels like it clogs your throat. 

Parker’s head rests on your shoulder. Chance’s legs are across both your laps, you sit between them. Chance breaks the silence first, voice barely audible.

“We should do this again.” Its sleepy, and adorable, how he sounds so hopeful. 

You nod, gently. “Yeah. We should.”

Parker doesn’t say anything, but he shifts closer.

The soft glow of string lights lit up the living room, casting a gentle warmth over the piles of nonsense around the room. You didn't realize how cuddly Chance could be until just now. He was curled up over your lap, head on Parker's shoulder now. Within no-time he had fallen asleep. His soft snores were rhythmic, like a purring cat.

Parker, who was normally so upbeat and playful, had gone quiet. His shirt and hair had become more ruffled up, and you found it hard not to stare at his face, and the little bit of stomach that showed when he moved around. You really tried not to stare, but after the evening you had, it was difficult to pretend like you weren't infatuated with both ot the men snuggled up to you. 

You turned slightly, careful not to jostle Chance. “You good?” you whispered, catching the faint tension in his jaw.

He hesitated, his eyes flicking to Chance’s sleeping face, then back to you.

“I—” Parker’s voice was quieter than usual. “I didn’t think tonight would feel this... perfect. Like, stupidly perfect.”

Your brow furrowed in curiosity, but your heart warmed at the sentiment. “It did turn out great, huh? Even with Chance cheating.”

Parker let out a small laugh, but it faded quickly. He looked at you again, really looked, and you saw something different in his eyes. Something tender. Vulnerable.

“I like you,” he said softly, barely louder than the rustle of the blankets. “A lot. That’s not new. But I didn’t think I’d feel this way about both of you.”

You blinked, surprised, but not in a bad way. He rushed to fill the silence.

“I know it’s weird. I know most people don’t- I’m not trying to make things awkward or mess anything up between us or-”

You reached over and took his hand, attempting to ground him and keep him from spiraling. You kissed his knuckles gently. 

“It’s not weird,” you said, squeezing gently. “And you’re not messing anything up. I care about both of you too. I.. Like both of you too. Maybe it’s not the ‘normal’ setup, but... it feels right. Doesn’t it?”

Parker exhaled slowly, the tension melting from his shoulders. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It does.” his face was bright pink even in the soft lighting. “I really want to kiss you right now,” he stumbles over his words, and before you could reply. 

Then, from the lump between you, a sleepy voice mumbled, “Aww, are you guys talking about feelings? That’s cute.”

Chance stretched across you both and blinked up at you, a grin tugging at his lips. “Holy crit! Took you long enough.”

You and Parker froze. “You were awake?” Parker asked, stunned.

Chance yawned dramatically. “Kind of. You talk loud when you’re nervous. Also, I definitely like both of you too, If I wasn't being clear about that before.” He waved a hand vaguely. “I want to kiss you both too.”

You laughed, heart swelling as Parker rolled his eyes fondly. Chance leaned up and pressed his lips to Parkers and then to yours, It was soft and sweet and tender all at once. He then kissed Parkers cheek before laying back down. 

You smiled, kissing Parker as he grew more and more bashful, hiding in the heap of blankets that Chance was already starting to curl up in. 

The three of you then slowly fell asleep, resting with tangled limbs, a little messy and confusing and a lot warm. 

It felt right.