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qveerthe0ry · 4 months

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If You're Crazy Too

Summary: It isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you, helping your friend with benefits confess his love for his longtime friend and roommate. But it’s definitely in the top ten. Word Count: 8,600 Pairing: Santi x m!amab!reader x Frankie Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, mutual masturbation, watching porn together, threesome, handjobs, ass eating, oral sex (m receiving), anal fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up), dirty talk, dom/sub undertones, polyamory Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar thank you both so much, you're angels for helping me through this <3 A/N: Special thanks to the author of this post for making an excellent resource for writing Spanish in fics, it came SO in handy. Also thanks to @triplefrontier-anniversary for inspiring me to finish getting this brainworm all written down before the deadline!

Santi is an incredible fuck. Also, he’s a fairly sweet guy.

You met him at your favorite club. He’d been dancing with men and women all night long, graceful and respectful, and you itched to get your turn with him.

When you finally got the chance, his body was solid and sweaty and sure against your own.

You could barely hear him over the music when he told you, lips brushing over your ear, that he was hoping you’d seek him out.

He kissed you, after a few songs, and you met it with an eagerness you didn’t even know you had in you. It wasn’t long before he asked you to come back to his place, and he made you fall apart underneath him.

The morning after wouldn’t have been awkward, either, if his roommate hadn’t been cooking breakfast for the both of you.

Santi introduced him as “Frankie, or Catfish, or Fish.” He was gorgeous, too, in a softer way than Santi. His brown eyes were wider and less menacing than Santi’s, and his curls peeked out under a well-worn trucker’s cap.

He said it was nice to meet you, and asked how you liked your eggs, and if you were way too loud the night before with Santi, he didn’t mention it. You did, however, catch him sneaking glances at Santi while the three of you ate, and wondered what they meant.

It didn’t matter much at the time when you thought you’d never see Santi again. But he walked you to your Uber after breakfast, and asked if you maybe wanted to do this again, no pressure, no strings attached. And you did. So you exchanged numbers and he kissed you on the cheek before sending you off.

You’ve met up with him a few times now. Each time Frankie makes himself scarce. You either hear the TV in his room, or you pass him on your way in, telling you he’s got errands to run. What errands he’s running at 10pm, you’re not sure you want to know, but you don’t think much of it.

Until now. You knock on the front door of their apartment and hear voices, too muffled to make anything out clearly.

Santi answers before too long with a smile, and you follow, intent to trail him to his bedroom like you usually do.

This time, though, Frankie’s sat on the couch in the living room, a beer in his hand, and he looks like someone just kicked his puppy.

“Am I, uh, interrupting something? We can rain check.”

Frankie looks to you, and then to Santi, and you feel like you have your answer before either of them speak.

“No, no, you haven’t interrupted anything,” Santi starts, “it’s just our favorite OnlyFans guy released a new video a few days ago and we haven’t had the chance to watch it yet. Fish is a little eager.”

“Fuck you, I’m not. Just thought we were watching it today is all. No big deal.”

It’s a lot of information to process, that these two not only share a favorite OnlyFans creator, but watch his videos together. And— not to assume, but you’re sure they probably do other things together too.

“Oh… I mean, I don’t want to ruin your plans.”

“It’s fine—“

Frankie’s reassurance is cut off by Santi though, something that seems like a common occurrence by the way he settles back into his seat and closes his lips when Santi begins to speak.

“You wanna watch with us? First orgasm of the night, but I promise I’ll make it up to you after.”

And fuck it, you think. It isn’t quite what you imagined when you left your place, but it doesn’t sound like a terrible way to spend your Friday night.

“I’m down,” you shrug, and Santi’s eyes crinkle when he smiles and winks at you.

He turns the lights off while Frankie casts the video to the TV. You settle in the armchair, as Fish looks a little uncomfortable, but he assures you he isn’t when you check in with him.

Santi takes the opposite side of the couch as Frankie, and then he’s ordering him to start the video.

The bar on the bottom reads 45:06. Longer than you expected. The video is well-edited with soft royalty-free music over a logo that fades when the man appears on screen.

You chance a small glance at the couch. You aren’t really sure what the etiquette is here, but neither of them seem to be making any moves yet, hands resting on their own thighs. You mirror them, subtly shifting to do so, and avert your eyes to the television once more.

The man on the screen is a wicked dirty talker. He spends a good five minutes telling the viewer what he wants done to him. He’s also quite submissive by the sounds of it, which shouldn’t come as a surprise to you. Santi loves the way you submit to him, tells you so every time you hook up.

You find yourself wondering what Frankie likes in the bedroom, if he’s also just as dominant as Santi, if he’s more sweet or hardened, if he would be vocal like Santi or more reserved like he seems to be in his daily life.

Before you realize it, the man on the screen is stripping down into a skimpy, lacy set of underthings. His cock is on the smaller side but rock hard and leaking, tenting his little lacy briefs in a deliciously obscene display. Your cock stirs at the sight, and you peek over at the couch again.

Frankie’s palming the bulge in his sweatpants, eyes glued to the screen so diligently that you think it’s calculated. Santi, in contrast, has his hand under the waistband of his gym shorts already.

But you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker from the screen, and not to you, but to Frankie, flitting up and down quickly from his face to his lap.

You try not to sigh too loudly as you cradle your own package, half-hard in your own skimpy briefs you wore just for Santi. You watch as the man on the screen turns his back to the camera and bends over, allows the camera to get a full view of the outline of the plug nestled between his juicy ass cheeks.

The air in the room feels humid, almost too hot as the video goes on. You definitely get why this guy is their favorite OnlyFans creator. He’s gorgeous, first of all, all lithe muscle, soft in the perfect places. And he’s an incredible performer. He talks to the camera like he’s talking to you, desperate and breathy. It doesn’t take long for your prick to fully fill out in your briefs.

The camera angle changes on screen. It cuts to him on all fours on the bed, his hole gaping from removing the plug, his pretty pink cock leaking between his legs. A rough grunt from your left has your eyes wandering to the couch again.

Santi’s cock is out, and the sight alone makes your mouth water. Thick and glistening in his big hand, his balls sat atop the waistband of his shorts. Your own throbs under the pressure of your palm, and you let yourself sneak a look at Frankie, too.

He’s finally got his hand down his pants, and you almost feel bad for wondering what his cock is like, too. If it would mirror the differences between he and Santi’s bodies, longer but thinner. You wonder if he’s uncut like Santi is, and you wonder what he’d taste like.

A loud whimper makes you peel your eyes away from the couch and look back at the TV. The guy is three fingers deep in himself, fucking them in along with the messy amount of lube he’s used. It’s fucking hot, and you throw all caution to the wind to unzip your jeans and pull your cock free from its confines.

“He’s fucking hot right?”

You turn your head to Santi at the sound of his voice. Your heart picks up at the sight of him, one hand stroking his balls while the other works slowly up and down his shaft.

You squeeze your own in response.

“Yeah, not exactly my type but he’s still doing it for me.”

Santi chuckles, nods his head back to the screen. But before you turn back yourself, you see Fish glance at Santi out of the corner of his eye. He starts to shuffle his waistband down his hips, but you turn away before you see anything you think you shouldn’t.

The guy on the screen is limber. On his back now, knees pressed to his chest, he’s whining and whimpering while he fucks himself with a big, realistic dildo.

It’s massive, much bigger than any real cock you’ve taken, but you guess that’s some of the appeal. You try to quietly spit in your hand, then spread it up and down as you lazily stroke yourself off to the video.

It’s loud. The obscene squelching and consequential moans fill the living room, but not enough that you can’t hear the strokes from both Santi and Frankie on the couch next to you. Occasionally you hear a muffled curse, or a stilted gasp, and you can’t be sure which man they’re coming from but you want to hear more.

You glance over again. Your eyes land on Santi first, of course, who’s almost shamelessly staring at Frankie’s crotch, the way he lifts his hips to fuck into his fist every few thrusts.

Frankie’s cock is longer, and thinner, and you’re delighted to find that he isn’t circumcised either, the fat head of his cock disappearing and reappearing from under his foreskin.

He turns his head, and you stop stroking your cock all together, afraid of Fish’s reaction to you sneaking a peek. Only, when you meet his eyes to shoot him an apologetic look, he’s not looking at you.

He’s looking at Santi, staring, eyes roaming up and down his body, lingering where he fists his prick, then back up again. You’re stunned still at how intimate it feels, the heat in Frankie’s gaze as he licks his plush lips.

You turn your eyes back to the video with a pounding heartbeat. Your erection begins to wane as you stare through the TV. You can’t get it out of your mind, the way they look at each other. You’re surprised they haven’t caught each other looking yet. The heat from both of their gazes looked tangible, hungry and yearning. It’s as plain as day to you, on the outside looking in.

“Ah fuck—”

The curse is not from Santi. Your eyes trail over just in time to see Frankie pull his shirt up and spill across his stomach. His eyes are closed, head thrown back against the wall behind the couch, and you see Santi’s fist speed up, a blur of tan skin.

You watch him watch Frankie, unabashed now as Fish’s eyes are shut in bliss, and Santi comes too with a deep hum, closing his own eyes just in time for Frankie to open his and look at the both of you.

He quickly averts his gaze when he sees you staring, reaches for the tissue box on the coffee table in front of him. In a move that looks so familiar, he pulls out two for himself, and then two for Santi, handing them over with practiced ease.

Santi pants out a gruff gracias and uses one to clean up with, then holds out his hand to offer you the other.

“Oh— no thanks, I’m good. Didn’t quite get there.”

Santi hums, uses the extra tissue to finish wiping himself up.

“What’s wrong, hermoso? Have I ruined you for all other men?”

His grin is cocky when he asks, tucking himself back into his shorts.

“Yeah Santi, that’s it.”

You roll your eyes and look over to Fish as if to say this fuckin’ guy, but he’s busy boring a hole into the paused TV screen like his life depends on it.

Your dick is hanging fairly limp out of your underwear, so you stow it away, pull your jeans back up.

“Don’t bother,” Santi tells you, nodding his head toward his bedroom, “let me make it up to you now.”

So with your fly undone, you stand on weary legs and follow Santi to his room. When you make it, you turn back to Frankie, to say thank you or sorry, you can’t be sure, because he’s already closing his own bedroom door behind him.

Santi makes good on his promise, though. He eats your ass for what feels like hours, until you’re shaking and begging for him to fuck you. And then he does, somehow riding the perfect line between rough and tender, holding your back against his front with one big hand on your chest as you both kneel on the bed. His other hand works your cock so perfectly that you come unglued in a grand way, like you always do with him.

He cleans you up after, gentle. He’s a huge cuddler, so it doesn’t phase you anymore when he spoons you close and presses his mouth along the little love bites he’s left.

“You really aren’t into subs, are you? Not even a little bit?”

You know he’s referencing your lack of interest in the video. You could agree with him, or you could tell him the truth. You’re not sure what to do, and so you sit in silence for some time before you decide to bite the bullet.

“It isn’t that. I mean, I am more into doms but— that wasn’t it.”

You feel him go stiff behind you.

“Shit, was that too weird for you? I didn’t mean to force you into—“

“No! No, Santi, it was fine. I just— you’re into Frankie, right?”

Air escapes his lungs in something akin to a sob.

“What!? Why would you say that?”

He’s not denying it, which is a good step.

“C’mon man, you were watching him more than you were watching the TV.”

“Pendejo, no I wasn’t.”

“Pendejo” you mock him, “don’t gaslight me. I don’t care. This isn’t, we’re no strings, right? I’m just saying, I don’t wanna come between this thing.”

“There’s no thing to come between. Even if you were right, which you’re not, Fish isn’t into me like that.”

You laugh.

“O-kay.”

“Don’t ‘okay’ me. How would you know? You’ve known him for a grand total of an hour and a half.”

“He was looking at you, too. You know that, right? You’re just in denial?”

“I would’ve seen if he was looking at me.”

“Because you were looking at him.”

“Fine! Okay, I was looking at him. He wasn’t looking at me so what’s it even matter?”

“He was, Santi. He was looking at your cock and licking his lips like he was starved. I saw it.”

Santi huffs behind you, and it tickles your neck.

“I’m not lying to you. I’m not in love with you or anything but I care about you a little bit.”

His arm around you tightens for a beat.

“Awww, so sweet, querido.”

“Shut up,” you huff, “you’re changing the subject. He was looking at you, like he’s always looking at you. I’ve watched him moon over you every single breakfast I’ve eaten here. You know how bad that makes me feel, eating the breakfast he made me while your cum drips out of me?”

“Fuck, why’d you say it like that? That’s so hot.”

“Because it’s true. If you guys have feelings for each other you need to figure that out before I die of a guilty conscience.”

You can practically feel Santi’s eyes roll behind you.

“Dramático,” he groans.

“You do have feelings for him. It seems like he does too. Get your poop in a group about it, man.”

“Will you still stay over? I’ll need a morning fuck if this is the way my weekend’s gonna go.”

——

I can’t do it. Frankie’s visiting his kid this weekend

The text comes a few hours after you shared your now routine, dysfunctional family breakfast, where Fish was indeed making googly eyes at Santi, and Santi’s cum was indeed leaking out into your underwear.

Likely story

No really. I don’t want to mess with his vibes, his kid is super important to him. It’s cute.

Oh my god just fuck him already

I’m TRYING okay? Can you help? I need moral support.

And look, it isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you, helping your friend with benefits confess his love for his longtime friend and roommate. But it’s definitely in the top ten.

So the two of you devise a plan. It’s convoluted as all hell, but also fairly simple. The next time their OnlyFans guy posts a video, Santi invites you over to watch again. Conveniently, just before you arrive, he spills a glass of red wine all over the seat of the armchair, and soaks the cushion trying to get the stain out of the beige fabric.

You show up, ‘none the wiser.’ Still, the vibes are absolutely weird in their two bedroom apartment. Frankie’s fidgeting on the couch, and Santi misses your cheek and plants a kiss to your eyelid. You have to get these boys together.

The plan goes off without a hitch from there. Santi flicks off the lights, and Frankie casts the video to the TV, just like they did last time, just like they’ve probably done dozens of times before. But now, the armchair is out of commission, so you all squeeze together on the couch. Santi’s in the middle, of course, his thick thigh pressing against your own as you all point your attention to the flatscreen.

You’re kind of excited. It’s a weird thing for you to be excited about, but you weren’t lying all those days ago. You do care for Santi. And Fish too, really, if only for the delicious breakfasts he makes, and for making Santi happy.

This time, you don’t wait for any of their cues. You pull your cock out as soon as the OnlyFans guy starts stripping his clothes. Santi grabs your hand, and for a second you think you’ve ruined the plan. But then spits into it, and Frankie groans from Santi’s other side as he watches the display. You moan a little too, partly for show, partly for the way Santi never fails to make your dick rock hard in record time.

You stroke yourself, and it goads the boys into pulling their pants down, too. The guy on the screen is doing things a little differently this time, fingering a see-through fleshlight as he lubes it up. This is hotter to you, anyway. It doesn’t take long at all for pre-cum to gather at your slit and slick your strokes even more.

By the time the guy is fucking into it with timid strokes, whimpering through the speakers, Santi still hasn’t made a move. You elbow him in the side, and he flinches, then elbows you right back.

You turn your head toward him, make like you’re kissing his neck, because Frankie’s eyes are about to pop out of his skull with the way he’s got them trained on Santi.

“Go on. You already have an audience,” you whisper.

Santi shudders, and Frankie looks away. Just in time, too. Santi eyes the way Fish is stroking himself, and then you hold your breath as Santi lifts his hand and wraps it around the base of Frankie’s cock.

“Ohmyfuckinggod.”

Frankie’s head thunks against the wall behind him, and his hips jolt up into the touch. You’re watching without any hesitation now, and Fish’s eyes are closed anyway. Santi squeezes and Frankie whimpers and scrambles to find Santi’s cock without looking.

“Fuck, Fish. Yeah?”

Santi’s voice is dripping with arousal, low and gruff, his cock twitching in Frankie’s grasp.

“Please, please.”

Frankie finally opens his eyes, lets his head loll to the side to look at Santi. But his eyes quickly flutter to you, his expression twisting up in confusion.

“Santi, what—“

“Shhh, hermano, s’okay.”

You lean forward, and for a moment you’re having an out-of-body experience, watching yourself cradle into Santi’s side, not knowing if you’re helping or hurting their cause, but wanting to reassure them both that this is a good thing.

Frankie takes the encouragement for what it is, allowing himself to fuck up into Santi’s fist and look at him with hooded eyes, mouth gaping open.

Like a fish, you think, and chuckle against Santi’s neck.

“What’s happening? Why?”

Frankie looks between the two of you for an answer, and you bite down on Santi’s earlobe to goad him to answer.

“He caught you looking, last time. Caught me looking at you, too. Put two and two together for me. This okay?”

Frankie shudders and closes his eyes, but nods his head.

You watch both of them, their hands on each other’s pricks, their hips meeting the thrust of foreign fists.

“Waited so long,” Frankie whispers.

“Lo sé, me too.”

Their faces inch toward each other, and you nuzzle the curls at the nape of Santi’s neck. To encourage him, or maybe to shield your eyes from the intimate moment, or probably both.

You feel the kiss, the way Santi’s neck cranes and flexes, and you hear the ragged moans from their lungs, and you are rock hard.

But your work here is done. You may need to jerk off in Santi’s bathroom before you leave, lest you tumble down the apartment stairs since there’s hardly any blood flow to anywhere other than your dick.

But as you make to get up, Santi’s free hand plants firmly on your thigh. You still behind him, a rush of awkwardness flushes through your system.

His head leans back when he pulls away from the kiss, and you watch the way Frankie physically recovers from it, takes a big lungful of air and slowly opens his eyes, licks the taste of Santi from his lips.

“What do you think, Fish? Should we thank him?”

Your cock throbs where it’s pressed against Santi, and you feel him chuckle, but Frankie’s nodding his head fast and looking straight at you.

“Yeah, yes,” he answers, breathless.

“My bedroom or yours, hermano?”

“I couldn’t give any less of a shit.”

They both laugh, and you find it in you to huff, but it’s anything but authentic when all you can think about is having these two men in bed with you, thanking you.

“Go get comfy, yeah? We’ll be there in a minute,” Santi tells you.

You’ve never moved more swiftly in your life, and you’re sure it looks so graceful, walking to Santi’s room with your hard prick swaying in the wind. But you, like Frankie, couldn’t give any less of a shit.

You undress in the now familiar bedroom, lie back on freshly washed sheets as you hear Santi and Frankie mumble, incoherent all the way out in the living room. Your heart rate picks up when you hear footsteps, but only one pair, and Santi struts in. You can hear rustling from beyond the door, a kitchen cabinet opening and closing.

“He‘a grabbing us some waters. I wanted to check in, make sure this is all okay? I know it wasn’t the plan.”

Now you laugh.

“Is it okay? Do I want two gorgeous men thanking me for squishing their heads together like Barbie dolls? It’s more than okay.”

Santi clicks his tongue at you.

“No need for the sass.”

Your blood runs cold at his tone shift, even as his lips quirk up just the tiniest bit at each corner.

Frankie walks in, then, and almost looks startled by the staring match happening. Still, he wades further into the room, sets a few glasses of water down on the nightstand.

You’re suddenly feeling self-conscious, naked and spread out on the bed in front of these two men, fully clothed and practically leering at you. Frankie’s not so shy now; you can feel his eyes on you as they roam across every inch of exposed skin. It’s a heated, tense moment that only breaks when Santi tugs Frankie to him by the hem of his shirt.

Christ, is it hot to watch, the way Fish’s body goes lax as Santi’s tenses, grabbing the back of his neck. His strong arm flexes as his hand gets lost in Frankie’s curls. They share a kiss that looks like less lips and more teeth. Then Santi’s sliding his hands under Frankie’s shirt, along his flanks, exposing smooth, tan skin.

They part to fling their shirts off, and you can’t help it, you reach down to touch yourself. You’re watching something beautiful. Their dance is stilted with novelty but still looks so easy, familiar in an unfamiliar way.

Their noses bump together awkwardly at times, but their hands map out patterns across each other’s bodies that look practiced, like they’ve done this thousands of times before, if only in their dreams.

And they look incredible together. Santi’s thick and bulky, skin so taught over his frame. And Frankie is leaner, corded muscle covered in softer flesh. It looks so squeezable. It is, you find out, second-hand, by the way Santi grabs him by the hips and pulls him closer, just to push him away to get his pants down.

They don’t part for long, and you’re stuck in this haze, a participant only by the way you’re sliding your hand lazily up and down your shaft while you watch them. Santi hasn’t waxed since you first met him, and now all that chest hair is growing in, a stark contrast to Fish’s hairless one. And you know it feels incredible, to be in Frankie’s position, getting scratched by all that wiry hair. You know his own hairless chest will be red and splotchy by the time the night ends, like yours has been countless nights before.

Finally, they come up for air, naked and heaving breaths across each other’s faces as they share a look. Santi raises his strong brow, tilts his head in your direction, and you’re snapped out of your voyeuristic state.

“Let’s show some gratitude, yeah?”

His voice is all low and hoarse, and you watch it affect Frankie in the same way it affects you, cocks jumping. And fuck, Fish does exactly as he’s told once Santi coaxes him with a playful slap to his ass. He crawls up between your legs, and his full lips are even more so now, bitten and slick and deep red. Glancing up at you with those long, pretty, fluttery lashes, his sweet brown eyes are all heavy-lidded and hesitant.

“This is okay?”

His voice is small, and he’s so goddamn perfect.

“Yes, Frankie. Please.”

You both exhale at the same time, and then he gets to it, immediately. His tongue hangs out of his mouth when he opens it wide, and he wastes no time sinking down on your prick.

“Jesus Christ, Fish.”

You damn near give yourself whiplash to look over to Santi, frozen in place next to the bed, eyes glued to where you and Frankie connect. The latter moans around your cock, encouraged to bob his head faster already, take you deeper.

“Knew you’d be such a good little cocksucker with those pretty lips. Fuck.”

It’s so hot, it’s too hot. You’re going to blow in record time with the warmth of Frankie’s mouth and the filth Santi is reciting.

He must see it in your face, the panic of this all being over way quicker than you want it to be. He kneels on the bed beside you both, gets a hand in Fish’s silky curls and you see the shudder that cascades down his body.

“Not a race, hermano,” Santi says, tugging at his hair to get him to lift off of your leaking prick.

Fish stares, wide-eyes and ragged breathing, as Santi arranges himself to lie beside him, both of their faces now inches from your throbbing cock.

“Control freak,” Frankie mumbles, but the smile on his face makes any heat from his words dissipate.

Santi punishes him with a bruising kiss anyway. Your hips jolt as Frankie’s hair brushes across your dick, so on-edge that even that whisper of a touch sends you reeling.

Santi chuckles around Fish’s bottom lip that he’s got between his teeth.

“He so sensitive, Fish. Gotta take it slow, alright?”

It makes your entire body burn, the way he’s talking about you like you’re not even there. The way he’s been guiding Frankie through everything so far, and the way Frankie follows so obediently.

Santi shuffles a bit, and Fish does too, so in-sync that you almost laugh. Their unplanned choreography has them both straddling one of your legs respectively, arms in between, their hands finding each other just close enough to your heavy sac that you can feel the heat coming off of them.

They both look up at you, and for a moment everything is so eerily perfect that it feels like you’re in some sick, twisted Truman Show remake, and this was all a ploy to get you into bed with them.

But then Santi looks at Frankie, a soft bueno? uttered toward him, and Frankie nods. Santi leans in, for what you assume is to kiss him more, but his nose brushes the base of your shaft. And then Fish leans in too, his own strong nose nuzzling just under your head.

Your hands find purchase on the backs of their necks, a light touch to ground yourself as you watch. It’s so fucking intimate, and you’re the catalyst for their exploration, and it’s driving you up the goddamn wall. Your curse and watch twin grins break out on their faces.

Shitheads, both of them.

They continue on with this dance, breathing in your scent as they nose up and down your cock. Their eyes open and close, but their gazes always seem to land on each other at the same time.

And then Santi leads, licking a long stripe up the side of you. Frankie follows eagerly once he catches on, meeting him for a sloppy dance of tongues all over the head of your dick, your frenulum, lapping up the pre-cum that’s been steadily leaking from your slit.

It jerks wildly under their loose attention, and Frankie chuckles deep and low as he chases your cock and Santi’s mouth at the same time. Your nails start to bite into their napes, the burning in your gut becoming far too intense.

“Guys,” you gasp, “I— fuck. I can’t.”

Santi hums, leaves a playful nip at the base of your prick that nearly sends you over the edge. Fish lets up, intent to lick up every last drop of your taste from Santi’s mouth, and groans when he succeeds.

You’re all left panting for a minute. You can’t decide who to look at. Santi’s head has fallen onto your thigh, and Frankie’s propped up on an elbow, staring down at him, all along the dips and curves of his tan skin. Santi gets a hand around Fish’s cock, thumbing under the head in slow circles, soothing and relaxed.

“Everyone still having a good time?”

Santi’s tone implies he already knows the answer. A weak Jesus, yes huffs out of your vocal chords, just as Frankie nods his head eagerly where it rests in his palm.

Santi cranes his neck to look up at you, and already you know you’re in for it, a wicked glint in his eyes.

“You want Fish to fuck you?”

Your cock throbs near their heads, and Frankie snorts.

“Think that’s a yes, huh?”

You answer Fish with a nod. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone but Santi. The thought shorts out all the wires in your system as you realize you get to learn him this way, what he’s into, what he’ll want to do to you, and how different it is from his counterpart.

“All fours, both of you. He’ll let you eat his ass for hours, Fish,” Santi instructs.

“Jesus.”

If it weren’t for the way Frankie scrambles to get into position, you’d ask if he was alright with it. But once he’s hovering on his hands and knees between your legs, he’s manhandling you to do the same, and you love it.

Your cock sways and leaks between your thighs, and Fish pulls and tugs to get you exactly how he wants you. You feel even more exposed than usual like this, with these two men behind you. He spreads you open for him, and you feel your hole clench and relax as it’s exposed to the humid air of the bedroom.

Then he spits, perfectly aimed, and you feel his saliva trickle all the way down your taint, tickling your balls as it drips onto the sheets.

A puff of hot air is all the warning you get before his tongue is following that same trail in reverse, all the way up to where your crack meets your back, and then back down, and your elbows buckle and so does your resolve.

You moan a mix of curses and Frankie’s name, and it only eggs him on, gets him to zero in on your rim with his tongue, circling then flicking, over and over.

You try to crane your neck enough to see Santi when you hear him swear.

“You really fuckin’ like this. Don’t you, Fish?”

All you can see is his tight curls behind Frankie’s own arched back, and his big hands wrapped around Frankie’s slender hips.

You feel Frankie answer him, an incoherent groan into your asshole as the tip of his tongue breaches you.

You’re on fire. Your cock is leaking a really pathetic stream onto Santi’s bedding, neglected, and you know you won’t come without any friction, but you also don’t want to. Not for a while, not until you get to feel Frankie’s cock inside you, get to see Santi watch him fuck you.

You’re anything but impatient, though. Santi was right, the smug asshole. You could keep Fish here for eternity, especially with how fucking diligent his tongue is, lapping you up and pressing inside of you, over and over. It’s dizzying, especially when he begins making desperate noises against you.

You know he’s in for the time of his life. Santi, as smug as he is, loves eating your ass ‘for hours.’ He’s fucking sloppy with it, and he does this thing with his thumbs that drives you—

“Fuck! Ay dios, Pope, what the fuck?”

Frankie falls lax into you, his nose against your hole and his lips brushing your taint as he curses.

“Yeah, you like that? Want me inside this cute little ass?”

Fish whines, shifts his face so he can bite the tender flesh where your thigh and ass meet, and all you can do is groan and push back into him as he gives Santi his answer.

“Damelo, need you, please.”

Santi hums, and you can tell by how it’s muffled that his mouth is once again occupied. Frankie recovers, though his tongue is much less coordinated now, a messy flurry of licks as he prods at your entrance.

Then you hear it, the click of a bottle opening, bouncing off the bedroom walls in a familiar way. You clench around Frankie’s tongue, a Pavlovian response, and he groans and fits his lips around your hole and sucks.

You’re babbling now, strings of nonsense, begging, and praise in the otherwise silent bedroom. You know the exact moment Santi sinks his thick finger inside of Frankie, because you feel him stiffen and shake against you, feel his nails dig into the meat of your cheeks where he’s spreading you open.

His mouth retreats, and you whine, but he’s tugging on you again to get you to lie on your back.

It’s a fucking sight when you’re finally able to watch. Fish has his back arched like a goddamn cat, presenting his ass to Santi, mouth gaping open at his skilled fingers.

Santi’s looking over him, one large hand splayed out on his back to keep him still as he fucks into him with what you assume is at least three fingers, the way Frankie’s drool is dripping from the corner of his mouth. Santi’s eyes are glued to his ministrations, where he’s slowly thrusting in and out, his big bicep flexing as he goes.

He manages to tear his eyes away, though, to look at you and wink.

“How’d he do? Think he deserves to fuck you, papi?”

You whimper at the mere thought of it, finally feeling him inside you.

You shake your head, but Santi tuts.

“Yeah— Yes, Santi. He did so good.”

Santi’s lips tilt up into a wicked smirk.

“There he is, that’s it, tell Francisco how good he is for us, huh?”

You see Frankie’s cock throb between his legs, hear a pathetic little noise fall from his lips. You and Santi both get a curious but delighted look on your faces at his reaction.

“Did so good, Francisco.”

He shivers, hides his face in the bedding between your thighs for a hot minute. A lungful of air escapes him, slow and methodical, before he tilts his head back to Santi.

“Lube?”

Santi huffs, tosses the bottle next to Fish’s head.

“Doesn’t take long for him. He likes the stretch, don’t you bebito?”

You huff, and your face feels hot and prickly as both men look at you. You squirm, and you don’t want to answer, you want at least a tiny bit of pride going into this, because you know you’re bound to come out the other side with absolutely none.

“He asked you a question,” Frankie says.

His gruff voice makes your breath catch.

Santi hums his approval behind him.

“Yeah, yeah, just— just two, give me two and I’ll be good.”

“What do you say, papi?”

And Jesus, this is the most Frankie’s said all night and it has your toes curling.

“Please, Frankie.”

He makes a patronizing, satisfied noise that makes you want to hide but also expose yourself even more. You want to give him everything, him and Santi, let them use you to get their pleasure however they want.

But then Fish groans, and you see Santi’s arm twisting behind him, reaching for that perfect spot. He makes a mess squirting lube out onto his fingers, and you at least have enough control of your faculties to lift your sac out of the way so Frankie can spread it across your hole.

It twitches under his fingers, begging, and so are you, just incoherent babbles as he teases you, toys with you. You think you maybe could wait him out, knowing he doesn’t get his until his cock is pressed inside you, but you don’t want to.

“Fuck,” you whimper, “please fuck me.”

“Yeah, good boy, there you are.”

You open your eyes at Santi’s voice.

“Give him what he wants, Fish. Give it to him so I can fuck you.”

Two fingers, right off the bat, pressed in slowly but surely in one swoop to the knuckle. You cry out, reaching for purchase and finding the bedsheets to twist into your clenched fists.

“You’re okay, you can take it, right?”

And it’s so goddamn mind-blowing, Santi talking you through it with Frankie’s fingers deep inside you.

You nod, opening your eyes again to look up at him. His eyes are so dark, and he’s stroking his thick cock as he continues stretching Fish out, and he looks hungry. He licks his lips and watches where Frankie’s fucking into you, boring holes where you’re connected. You have to reach down with your free hand and squeeze the base of your prick to get yourself together.

It doesn’t take long for you to adjust, to relax around his digits with a few deep breaths. He praises you, that’s it, take ‘em so well, wanna be fucked so bad don’t you? Your head spins with it as he works you open. Little by little your legs spread wider for him, hips canting up to direct him to the spot inside you that you want him to reach so desperately.

But he doesn’t. Once it’s obvious you’re ready to take him, he slips his fingers out and wipes the residue on the inside of your thigh.

“Gonna take me now?”

It’s a rhetorical question, obviously, as he grips behind your knees and pushes them to your chest. You answer anyway, your own voice so foreign to your ears as you plead for him.

Santi shushes you, and that familiar noise is calming enough to bring you back down to Earth, where he’s resting behind Frankie, one hand caressing his chest while the other grips his waist.

“Wanna be inside you, Fish,” he mumbles, nose pressed behind his ear, lips teasing his earlobe.

Fish’s eyes close, but he guides the head of his dick to your entrance and sinks in, blinding pressure as the head of him stretches you wide. When it slips past, you both gasp, and Santi groans into Frankie’s neck as he watches.

It feels like years, waiting for him to seat himself all the way inside you. It burns in the best way, friction that has goosebumps dotting every square inch of skin.

But then his thighs reach the backs of yours. He curses, moves your legs out of the way so he can cover your body with his own. Santi’s gaze is heavy where it falls, the place you and Frankie are fused together, as he spreads a healthy dollop of lube over his prick.

“Ready for me, baby?”

It’s palpable, the way the energy of the room shifts when Santi presses closer behind Frankie. Like he’s about to step off a ledge, Fish’s eyes widen and he looks at you with his brows drawn up tight. You reach for his curls, run your fingers through them, scrape your nails across his scalp in hopes that it evens out his breathing a bit.

Past Frankie’s shaking form, Santi’s expression is nearly identical. His bottom lip is caged between his teeth, brow furrowed, shoulders squared. His eyes flicker to you, and his features soften just a fraction before his hips begin to press forward.

Frankie sobs at first contact. His sweaty forehead falls to your chest. His cock is jerking inside you, rhythmic pulses as you watch Santi’s hips slowly inch forward.

“Relax for me, Fish. Deep breaths, baby. I’ve got you, take it for me.”

Santi sounds so wrecked. His voice is wispy, and so deep you can hardly hear from the bass in it. He’s never really sounded this way before, and the reality of this entire situation makes you clench around Frankie’s throbbing cock.

Santi curses in whispers, and you watch the sweat from his forehead drip down, between his eyes, down his nose, and drip onto Frankie’s heated skin. And then Frankie shifts, pulling out of you. And then, you realize, pressing Santi’s cock deeper inside himself.

You groan at the revelation, chase Fish’s hips with your own, a domino effect that sets both of them off as well. It doesn’t take much at all for them to find the right pace, like this is just as natural as everything else they do together. For a while you just take it in, let Frankie get his pleasure from you, let them discover the feeling of being so close to each other after a long while of only imagining.

Santi’s signature filthy mouth doesn’t make an appearance. Instead, he looks stunned silent above the both of you. His mouth hangs open like he wants to say something, but all that leaves his lips are grunts and groans that Frankie echoes into your sternum. His eyes don’t know where to look, so they float between where he’s fucking Frankie, and your own roaming eyes, and finally land where your hand grips Frankie’s hair.

He lets go of one of Fish’s hips to tangle his fingers with your own, tugging on those chestnut curls. Frankie slams his hips into you at the sensation, bites down on the meat of your pec and keens before he lets Santi’s grip pull his head back.

His eyes are completely fucking black, no iris to be found when his heavy eyelids open to look at you. And it’s a very strange thing, when you watch him look right through you and call out Santi’s name.

Strange, but fucking hot.

“Let it happen, Fish.”

“No. I– I can’t.”

“You can, fuck, don’t hold it. Come inside so I can fuck it out of him.”

Frankie crumbles. You watch it happen, his eyes snapping shut as he chokes on a high-pitched sound. His face twists up, and you feel his hips stutter against you as he starts chanting Santi’s name, over and over. His cock jerks with every wave of his release, and he’s shaking, collapsing dead-weight on top of you.

“That’s it, did so good. Feel so fucking good squeezing me Fish.”

You’re momentarily squished by the weight of two grown men when Santi rests against Frankie’s back. He kisses where he can reach, soothing the place on his scalp where he was tugging at the hairs.

“Mierda, Santi, get off you fucking oaf.”

And it’s cute, the way Frankie gets so grumpy even after he’s just come his brains out. You ruffle his hair, when he’s finally not sandwiched between you two, let him collapse beside you instead with a sweaty arm draped across your middle.

You only have a few moments to appreciate the tenderness before Santi’s lifting your leg onto his shoulder pressing his thick fingers inside you. The noise is obscene, and Santi swears as Frankie’s cum trickles out of you.

You know you’re in for it now. Santi sets his jaw and arranges your hips so he can slide right into you. You moan at the feeling, and the knowledge of where his cock has just been, noises tumbling out of you as he picks up the pace where Frankie left off.

And you almost forget about Fish, caught up in the pleasure of Santi railing you just how he knows you like. But then a warm, trembling hand wraps around your cock, even though Santi’s own are gripping onto you tight, and it’s heaven.

“Let me see you come,” Frankie says, voice all hoarse and worn out.

You whine, loll your head to the side to look at him.

But this time Santi’s hand is grabbing you, just shy of too rough when he takes your chin in his hand.

“You look at me. Look at me when I make you come, papi.”

And you take it as an order, because Frankie’s hand speeds up and squeezes tighter, and Santi’s fucking into you deep and fast like he does when he’s about to come.

You shake with it when it finally happens. Your spend splashes down Fish’s knuckles, up your stomach, your chest, christ some of it even lands on your chin. And you know you’re babbling but you don’t know what words you’re using, only know that they come from high in your throat as you gasp for air.

Santi follows you so closely, burying himself impossibly deep as he releases. You hear Frankie encouraging him, but the sound is miles away as your head swims in that familiar, blissful place.

When the ringing in your ears settles, and your vision unblurs, and all your nerve endings don’t feel like they’re on fire anymore, Santi’s cock has been replaced by his tongue. You give a weak protest at the overstimulation as his greedy mouth licks the mess out of you. It doesn’t matter, he comes up for air just as soon as you realize where he’s at.

Your bleary eyes watch as Santi leans over you, grabs Fish’s face in his hands and tugs at his bottom lip with one of his thumbs. Frankie opens his mouth, obedient as ever, and then a mix of Santi’s cum and his own is tumbling from Santi’s lips into Fish’s mouth.

Once the damage has been done, an image that will forever be burned into your mind, Santi lets his lips press against Frankie’s. He kisses him deep but slow, savoring the concoction of tastes, until Frankie has to lean back for air.

And then it’s silent, and still, and a pit of dread makes itself known in your gut in record time.

“I’ll grab us some towels. Don’t either of you move a muscle.”

Frankie huffs but stays put. You shake out some of the tensed-up muscles in your legs, grasping for something to say to break the tension.

Turns out you don’t have to.

“Bossy little prick,” Frankie mumbles.

It makes a giggle bubble up out of you, even though it’s not even that funny. You suppose the nervous energy needed out somehow.

“Don’t know what you see in him,” you agree.

Frankie hums, tilts his head like he’s contemplating it.

“I’m kidding. He’s sweet. You’re a lucky guy, so is he.”

You’re interrupted when Santi reenters, two fluffy towels in hand. You tidy up as best you can, then sigh when you no longer have anything to occupy your hands with.

“Stay the night?”

And this time, those familiar words are uttered by Frankie. It surprises you. For a moment you think he’s just being nice, appeasing you. But his brown eyes do that same thing that Santi’s do, where they get all wide and watery and it’s impossible to say no.

So you snuggle under the covers, and it’s a bit awkward at first with an extra set of limbs. Santi takes his coveted position as big spoon, but this time behind Fish. Then Frankie coaxes you closer, a hand at your back to urge you to rest your head on his outstretched arm.

The three of you talk about how hard you’re all going to sleep, and you close your eyes and listen to two other sets of breaths. You let it lull you to the edge of consciousness. Just before you slip under, Santi’s voice is deep and smooth.

“Te amo.”

And Frankie’s whisper is just as silky.

“Te amo.”

—

In the morning, you all wake up slow, and take care of business, and mosey out into the kitchen. It’s natural to watch Frankie make eyes at Santi over his eggs, but you know that Santi’s routine walk to your Uber will be anything but.

Their apartment door slams heavy behind you two as you head to the normal pick-up spot.

“So this is probably it, huh?”

You have to force yourself to look at Santi’s face, squinting in the mid-morning sun.

His brows draw up, and you really hope he doesn’t make this anymore awkward than it needs to be.

“It doesn’t have to be, no.”

His head shakes back and forth with his declaration, and you almost flinch when he reaches for your hand.

“Listen. Give us some time, you know? Let us… figure… this out. Once we settle, I wanna see you again. Fish does too.”

You’re sure your face is doing something funny, because Santi laughs and pushes you.

“Not gonna get rid of us that easy, cabrón.”

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siliconforbrains · 5 months

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Okay, it's like 10pm on a work night and I haven't had any coffee today so my thoughts are a little scrambled BUT. I WAS THINKING.

(About In Stars and Time of course I'm always thinking about that game)

A couple of years ago, at the height of Steddie -my sister was big into it and recced me some fics okay- I read this fic about Steve dealing with time loops ("The one in which a time loop is fucking exhausting" by badpancake) and there was this specific detail about the epilogue that stuck with me.

It was the idea that, once the time loops were done and over with, people would slowly start to remember bits and pieces of what happened in earlier loops. After being fractured for so long across dozens of timelines and experiences and outcomes, time was finally healing, and broken shards of lost memories would find their way back into people's minds.

And that got me thinking about a post-game what-if scenario where the same happens to the gang as they travel through Vaugarde.

Like they still don't remember everything -just bits and pieces. Experiences so emotionally charged that they found a way to cross the sands of time and reach them again.

The question is, what would those memories be? The first answer that comes to mind is some of Siffrin's deaths, of course. I can't imagine watching your friend get pancake-d by a boulder would be pleasant, nor witnessing them turning their own dagger to themselves. Or offering him a slice of your favorite snack only for him to go into anaphylactic shock in front of your very eyes, for that matter!

But there would be other instances too, wouldn't they? Death is not the only thing that shook them to their core. What about their first death to the King? Or Bonnie's fate at the end of Act 3? What about basking in the blissful feeling of victory against the tormentor of your land only to turn to look at your friend and know something is very, very wrong?

What about fighting through the House with a party of 4 instead of 5, bloodied, confused, staring in the face of the King knowing you're about to die and wondering why your friend left you all when you needed them most?

I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this, but I've been rotating this concept in my head since this morning and thought I'd get it out on here so y'all can suffer with me tehee

#maxisrambling #isat #isat spoilers #in stars and time #isat siffrin #i genuinely don't know if i'd ever write a fic about this concept #esp bc i already have like 3 wips im working on and i don't need another #but if i ever were to it would be like. a post-game fic where the party realizes just how bad the loops were #how they affected siffrin and how they mightve affected /them/#(bc love this found family to death but siffrin probably downplays a lot of the loops stuff until confronted /lh)#and meanwhile sif has to deal with the knowledge that his family is remembering things he never wanted them to remember #seeing things they never shouldve seen #and is probably filled with a fuckton of guilt about that bc even now that the loops are broken they're hurting them #they all need a hug oh my god #OFC it would have a happy hopeful ending but NSDJKVNDJKFV angst hurt/comfort <3 #okay im done rambling hopefully this makes sense #im gonna go pass out now id say sorry but I'm not lmao xoxo

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thomase1 · 2 years

Text

Neigbors and headaches

Pairing: Loki×Fem!Reader (other than some thirst, platonic)

Warnings: intense pain, some thirst, touch of angst and lots of fluff/comfort.

Word Count: ~1.700

Thank you @tessathechild for proof reading and helping me! 💙

What, Sel has actually managed to finish and post something once?! Its a good day!! Yes, this one story made it out of my 22!! drabbles and WIP's I've got.

Just a little thing I wrote, thinking of my migraines I sometines get. Saying that, I have written this based on my experiences with a few extras sprinkled in. So this is a cofort/hurt fic.

Loki has been your neigbor for over a year, but you never really spoke. The occasional 'hello' but that was it. Sure you know who he is, would be hard not to, considering he and his collegues are all over the news. Saying that, you are aware of his powers, his heritage and title, to you that just meant there was somebody in the building able to help in case of a robbery or shooting. Other than that, he was just another neighbour on your floor.

Which brings us to the problem. Youve got a migraine, the worst one youve ever had. Normally its located to one side, but this time its just your whole head, pain thundering against you skull. Three days it plagues you already, which is also the amount of time you barely slept. You got about four hours in total, every time you did fall asleep when the pain let off of you for a while, you got violently ripped from slumber again. It never went away for long. Which only made the sleep deprivation worse. Working in this state has been a challange, actually getting your work done impossible. To your horror, your boss noticed today, threatening to cut your payment short would you not 'change your work ethic'. As if you deliberetly got a migraine keeping you off sleep for days.

And you cant go to the doctor either since you got them on your toes already. The sheer amount of pain medications you get perscribed is, understandably, a red flag. The dosage and intensity of them, an even bigger red flag, but what are you surpossed to do?! They just dont work, none of them did.

Which leads us to you, currently knocking on Lokis, or how you adress him, Mr. Laufeyson, door. Its almost 10pm and the lack of sleep let all your pride melt away. You did not want to bother him, but you just cant bare it anymore. Your job is on the line for crying out loud! After a short time, the door opens; an annoyed Mr. Laufeyson peeking through the gap.

"Can I help you?", he beats you to it, irritation etched in his features.

"I'm sorry to bother you at this hour, but I have a strange request." Your heart is beating in your throat, maybe this wasnt a good idea after all, he does seem pretty annoyed.

"What is it?", he sighs, opening the door a little more.

He is wearing forest green pyjama bottoms and to your delight or horror, you arent quite sure yourself, no top. He looks like a marble statue you would see in renown museums and galleries. His chest is on eye level with you, makeing it difficult to not stare at his neatly trimmed black curls there. Your eyes wander to his perfect pecs, his well defined ribs leading down to his chiselled abdomen. That V-line made your breath catch in your throat for a moment, the small trail of hairs leading back down to that, sinfully, low hanging silk. Your eyes linger on the impressive bulge of your opposite for a second, a cleaning of his throat ringing in your tormented head, makeing you wince briefly. But also, you snapped your eyes up to his face again, your eyes blown wide in shock.

"Is it not a little rude to knock on my door at this hour, just to stare when I ask you a question?", his words seem displeases, but his lips are curled into a knowing smirk.

Now you clear your throat, a blush dusting your cheeks pink "What were you saying again?".

He gave a low chuckle, shakeing his head, "I was asking to what I owe your visit, Miss L/n.".

"Oh, yes, sorry. I- Ive got a bad migraine and could not sleep for three days now. I was wondering-", you stutter but get stopped by him.

"I see. Migraines are quite the torment for midgardians I have heard.", he lays a pointer finger to the bow in his upper lip, thinking.

"Yes. Mine arent affected by pain medications either, I would not bother you if they were.", you tell him earnestly, your eyes dropping to the floor.

"It is rather fine, shall we get to your apartment so I can figure out a way to help you?", he asks with a soft smile that calms you down like a weighted blanket.

"Really? Yes, that would be so nice of you, thank you so much." You sway a little, pulling at your sleeve.

"Let me just get a shirt and some shoes and I will be right there.", he tells you, leaning the door closed.

A moment later he returns, now wearing a basic grey v-neck shirt and some brown slippers. "After you.", he gestures with his hand.

You nod enthusiastically, which you instantly regret, your pain reigniting like pouring gasoline to an open flame. You groan in pain, holding onto the nearest wall, your head feeling like it is sinking and rising repeatedly.

"Are you alright?", he grabs your upper arm, holding you stable.

You groan a "yes".

"I dont think you are, lets get you home, come on.", he hooks an arm around you waist, helping you over to your door.

You dig out your keys, trying to open the door, but your vision is playing tricks on you. He grabs them from your hands, "Allow me.". He quickly has the door open, nudging it open with his foot. Finally inside, with your shoes off and seated on your little two-seater sofa, you look at him. The pain eased off a little by now.

"Thank you, Mr. Laufeyson. I'm very sorry for the trouble.", you twiddle your thumbs.

"No trouble at all. Call me Loki please.", he sits down next to you, a friendly smile playing on his lips.

"Y/n.", you smile back at him. There is a comfortable silenence for a bit, until another groan of yours breaks it.

"Its worse again?", you hear his voice through cotton balls, thats what it sounds like at least.

"Yea.", you whimper, unable to explain it further. He waits until your eyes open again and you take a deep breath.

"So it comes and does in waves?"

"Its always there, but I can function with that pain. But then there are these sudden intense pains that just have me helpless.", you explain to him, noticing you are a bad host, "I'm sorry, would you like something to drink? Tea perhaps?".

He waves it off, "You were barely able to speak a momemt ago, let alone brew tea. I am just fine, thank you. And those pains, are they pulsating, throbbing, stabbing,..?".

You think about it, "The normal, bearable pain is pulsating, the sudden ones are throbbing, like a jackhammer.".

He humms his confirmation and thinks for a moment. "I think I have a spell that could help with that, though only temporaryly I'm afraid.", he looks at you a little sad.

"That sounds good, please just make it stop for now at least.", you beg him, the desperation clear in your voice.

He nods, "Make yourself comfortable.". You lean back into the cushions, to which he whispers, "Very well.".

He turns to face you better, giving you direct view of his jaw muscles. "You will feel a tingling first. After that you will alternately grow cold and very warm. Do not worry, that is totally normal.", he explains to you calmly.

"Understood."

He lays his hand on your head, palm flat against your forehead. You look at it expectedly. "Close your eyes?", he suggest, you follow, "Lovely. Now just stay calm and breathe for me.".

Just as he finishes what he says, you feel your skin tingle, growing warm after a brief moment. Very warm and then suddenly cold. Then warm again, but it stays at a soothing temprature, like a heating pad.

The pain subsides, almost like a wave washing it into nothingness. You smile and humm at the peaceful release from your torment. You havent even noticed in how much pain you were for the last thee days straight, until it was gone.

"Better?", he asks you.

You leave your eyes closed, savouring this moment of peace, you confirm his question with a 'mhhm'.

You hear his low timbre of voice tell you something, but you cant grasp his words. Your exhaustion kicked in right away, sleep taking you in a matter of seconds.

"Should it come up again and bother you or if you have any side effects, come to me at once.", Loki tells her but doesnt get an answer.

He feels her body growing limp. "Y/n?", he asks her in a whisper, only getting her even breath as confirmation.

She fell asleep. He smiles to himself, 'Poor thing is exhausted.'.

He gets up to leave, but as he's stood in front of her door, he glances over one last time. 'She would rather sleep in her bed, I guess.', he thinks as he sees her beginning to slump over to the side.

He walks over to her bed, drawing back the covers and then goes to collect her into his arms. Carefully as not to wake her, he walks over and sets her down. He makes sure her head lays comfortably and drapes her duvet over her.

He conjures a piece of paper and a pen, writing her a little message.

Dear Y/n,

you fell asleep, so I took the liberty of moving you to your bed, ensuring you sleep comfortable.

I did lock your door by magic, but you can unlock it as usual.

Just in case you ask yourself how that took place.

I hope you are well rested and pain free when you read these words.

Loki.

He places it on her nightstand and leaves her apartment, locking it as he told her in the letter. That night, he, too, had a peaceful sleep, feeling a sense of pride of being able to help this sweet neighbour of his.

When you woke up, you were confused at first, but quickly found the note Loki left you. You are so ashamed for falling asleep on him, not even thanking him for helping you. How embarrassing.

You defently owe him one.

#loki laufeyson #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki x sick reader #sick fic #hurt/comfort #migraine #sexualapocalysesociety

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bewitchedsouls · 29 days

Note

I know you mean good but fat girls can also break easily. I also don’t mean to sound rude or offend you but it’s rare for fat girls to be 6 foot, I know you might be fat and 6 foot but it’s pretty rare. I think most people stick to petite girls in cod stories because it would be scary and horrifying if they gave reader their sweater and all the sudden reader fits or barely fits in it and it only works as a crop top on them. And please try to remember just because their fat doesn’t mean they aren’t clean fat girls bathe too and do their eyebrows too they aren’t slobs. Fat girls can break when they get laid and yes I believe they also will jiggle around in the process so please try to be mindful when bringing up cod guys with a fat girl

i’m extremely confused but this might just be me not having enough sleep, what are you questioning here? i try (i’m pretty sure i haven’t either) to not mention body types, sizes, descriptions etc, i want everyone to feel like they can read a fanfic i have written because they can imagine themselves as the person, i know in one i said simon could practically engulf the reader but that is because i see simon as this big military man who’s built like a brick wall so that just how i tackle it in writing, as a person who has always struggled with my weight it’s nice to be able to read about a love interest who (not matter your size) can pick you up or put you on his lap, i don’t like writing for body types because it can discourage others and make them feel as if they aren’t good enough or have something wrong with their body when infact i think all body types and sizes are beautiful and think that no matter your size you should feel included in a fanfiction because as it says in the name, it’s fiction, something where you can imagine yourself in that position, if someone struggles to do so i understand that it wouldn’t feel good to be excluded especially when i have been victim to writing that is catered towards a specific body or feature, now if someone wanted a plus sized reader fanfic i would be more than happy to write that, my requests are open as stated and i would do everything to make sure it is up to their standards and their body description if i am given one.

I am also confused at your point of saying ‘just because they’re fat doesn’t mean they aren’t clean’ ???? this is extremely baffling and you mentioned eyebrows, once again ??? i’m seriously hoping this was meant for another post because you may not want to offend but what you have written to me i find extremely disrespectful and rude, just because you say don’t mean to offend/no offence doesn’t mean anything you don’t have the right to talk to people who go out of their way to write fanfiction for people to read when they’re bored, lonely, seeking comfort (as i have myself many times) i have a full time job that i don’t get home form till 10pm (hence the lack posts) you do not get to slander people who don’t have to write fanfiction but choose to in order to make others happy. My last point to add on is that you said ‘yes I believe they will jiggle around in the process’ this is going to sound rude but whatever, are you even a plus size person yourself? as you sound unsure as to what happens when someone is plus size and has sex? i think it’s extremely rude that you think you can make those kind of comments and come on my page and try to tell me what my body is and what i can and cannot write about.

IF YOU FEEL MY WORK IS NOT FOR YOU EITHER POLITELY PRIVATELY MESSAGE ME AND TELL ME SO I CAN EITHER FIX IT TO BE MORE INCLUSIVE OR CAN WRITE YOU YOUR OWN COMPLETELY NEW FIC!!! OTHERWISE GET OF MY PAGE AND DO NOT INTERACT WITH ME OR MY WORK!!! I DO NOT NEED TO PUT UP WITH HATE AND NEGATIVITY WHEN ALL IM TRYING TO DO IS BE CREATIVE AND MAKE PEOPLE HAPPY!!!!

#cod #cod headcanons #simon ghost riley #stop hate #haters dni #negativity

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csbenthusiast · 4 months

Text

May your heart never stop beating for me - Choi Yeonjun X f!reader

a/n: *ahem* hi😭 it’s been a long looong while since I last wrote something and posted in here(my apologies), but ummmm this is a comeback ? sort of? idk, but what I know is that this was sitting on my docs app FOR SO SO LONG LIKE SINCE FEBRUARY and it was supposed to be out on Halloween and then on Christmas but I got sick😬 anyways consider this a miracle and a late gift 😀 (I’m also planning a Soob fic that was supposed to be out on his birthday but shhhhhlets not talk about it for now).

a/n²: y’all I lied😨 I’m late once again, but what matters is that it’s finally here!! Literally a year later 😀 and ummm I tried to mix two ways of writing this, so I hope it was not confusing!

Genre: angst? it’s bittersweet.

CW: toxic relationship (nothing to worry about, YJ and mc just go back and forth), language, Yeonjun has a bad behavior(I’m not sorry, I was feeling very angsty), implied suggestive touches? they both need each other in a not so healthy way. Lemme know if I missed something!

WC: 2.2k

disclaimer: this only fiction and does not represent this idol in any way.

Pls enjoy and give me feedbacks:DDD they make me very happy (English is not my first language, excuse any mistakes 😙)

Songs I listened while writing this: here

The weather outside was definitely a mood killer. As the days passed by, October just got colder and colder. And it’s not like the chilly weather wasn’t nice, in fact, it was actually quite pleasant.

The season was nice, sure. But spending the days alone was not on your ‘to do’ list, to be honest.

Yeonjun left without even explaining himself once again. Everyday life seemed meaningless and the urge to check up on him was growing more and more.

It was worthless, though. Why bother yourself when he has never put you on the top of his priority list? Was it too much to ask?

Despite that, here you were, almost 10pm on a Tuesday trying to cheer up your mood with a random movie playing on the TV.

It was a terrible film, though. The best option was probably going to sleep, but you knew better; going to bed meant reminiscing everything until the first ray of sunshine was peeking through the curtains.

In the end, you tried to go through that mess.

And, somehow, that thing was able to get your attention to the point where you ended up startled by the sound of the doorbell.

You tried to ignore it at first, too scared to check who it was, but it rang again. Was it a murder? No, no murder would ring the doorbell before making a victim.

In defeat, and dragging your feet to where the door was, you took a look through the peephole and, right now, the person outside was probably worse than a murder.

Yeonjun couldn’t be on the other side in the middle of the night, right? It was like he read your mind.

You twisted the keys in a hurried move, though. Being curious sometimes was a curse.

“Hey.” It’s the only thing he bothered to say, looking at his feet like he was ashamed. As if.

“What are you doing here?” You hissed, not really sure of how you were supposed to feel. It’s kind of bittersweet.

He was still looking at the ground, but you took notice of how Yeonjun was shivering. Was it due to the cold and the lack of clothes? You’re not sure.

“I…” a sigh escaped his chapped “I don’t know, all the roads lead me here at the end of the day, I suppose.” It was an attempt to cheer up the mood, but by the look on your face he quickly replaced his smile with a frown.

Two pairs of eyes bored into each other, and it was clear that you were anything but pleased to see him standing by your doorstep. But, again, being good could be a curse, perhaps.

It was cold outside, and Yeonjun was shivering. Maybe you should invite him inside. Unfortunately, you did.

Huening Kai will have to deal with this later, I guess.

"Come on, you're clearly cold." You stepped aside, making room for him. "I can make some tea if you'd like. What do you say?"

"That's what I like about you, Y/N." Yeonjun winked "You're always looking out for me." and made himself comfortable on her couch.

"Do you deserve it, though?" the girl mumbled, occupying herself in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, the older boy was looking around the room and hallway. A few things changed; the picture you two took back in July was no longer hanging on the wall and a few decorations were out of place. Odd.

"Hey, Y/N?" he called, receiving back a hum. "Where's our photo? You know, the one you're kissing my cheek."

The nerve. Where does he think it went?

"What do you mean 'Where's our photo'?" She scoffed, dropping a few things while doing so. "I put it in a box, of course" and mumbled loud enough for Yeonjun to hear.

The boy frowned as if she said the most horrible thing in the world. How could she put it in a box? Does that mean their relationship meant nothing to her?

"I can see the gears turning inside your head." Y/N said from behind, which scared him a little. Did you have a sixth sense or something? "Don't think too much about it… or do, it's up to you since I don't have a say in any of our conversations anyways."

Now, that definitely bruised his ego. Why were you being so passive aggressive all of sudden?

"What's wrong?" He asked, sitting by the couch once again.

Is he playing dumb? Or is he just trying to get under my skin?

Y/N bitterly chuckled. You surely could've ignored him when he knocked on your fucking door a few minutes ago, but you didn't and now you had to deal with his stupid behavior.

No, wait. Why were you complaining, though? You were the one who agreed to play his little games, right? Little games? Is that what this is?

"Hey, Y/N, look at me, will you?" Ah, it took him long enough. He used that sweet tone; he always did. Maybe that's his curse, being awfully sweet yet such a jerk sometimes. "What's wrong? Now I'm the one who's able to see the gears in your head." He chuckled and grabbed her hands, gesturing for Y/N to sit beside him.

His touch sent shivers down her spine, but it’s not like she would admit it. And Yeonjun must’ve noticed that, because he took this opportunity to bring Y/N closer to his body with a hug.

That touch was supposed to be an act of comfort, but it only made her feel more anxious than when she saw his face earlier that night. However, it was impossible to ignore his scent; y/n’s senses were drowning with every touch and breath lingering on her skin. Yeonjun was sneaky, he moved his hand off her arms and stroked her back, and, maybe, just maybe, y/n’s heart started to beat a little bit faster and louder.

Perhaps that’s your curse. Yeonjun always found a way to drive you insane, and you always tried to push his buttons. But by the end of the day, you two would always get back together. Saying that it would be the last time you’d hurt each other was pointless, because it was not the truth.

Despite everything, y/n wanted to be mad, sad and let everything out. But she couldn’t, her mind was a complete mess with every brush of his fingers on her skin.

“Hey, you seem off.” Yeonjun brought her face closer to his by holding her chin.

“Am I now?” Y/N flinched at his touch, face burning with the proximity. Your body betraying your emotions made him smirk.

Yeonjun’s breath was against her neck, with lips slightly brushing over her ear.

“Yes, you are.” He whispered. “Kitten, talk to me. Why are your walls suddenly up, hm?” And planted a kiss by her pulse point.

This situation was uncomfortable, to say the least. But it’s not like you wanted him to stop.

Really? He should stop. You had to stop it.

“I hate you…” y/n’s breath hitched. She pushed him away, but that was not enough. He frowned and tried to get closer to you at all costs. “I hate you for lying to me. And…and for running away when you sensed something was wrong. You always do that and then come back here to say it’s the last time, but let’s be honest, we both know it’s not the last time and…”

Yeonjun kept quiet the whole time. He knew you were right, it was a very good point, but he wouldn’t admit it. As always, he tried to stand up for himself.

“Come on, Y/N, that’s not true. We both know that.” his thumb grazed the line of her upper lip and her whole body tingled at the touch.

You were better than that, of course. Your hands wrapping around his wrists to push him away were enough of a sign to startle him.

“You’re making me look like some fucking crazy ex-boyfriend.” His words were sharp; sharp enough to make Y/N chuckle and cry at the same time.

Maybe that's what he is. Ex-boyfriend. The words matched his actions, but why hearing or even saying it out loud left a bitter taste in your mouth?

“Maybe that’s what you are.” hurt was evident in her voice. “You run away, fuck some other girl and then come back to me expecting everything will be alright? I’m tired, Yeonjun. And I’d appreciate it if you could just…leave me alone.”

He went silent. The room grew silent once again, and the only sound that dared break the silence was the soft thuds of his heart. His breath hitched, but he put on an act with a scoff, trying his best to look unfazed.

What else was he expecting? She was right, he messed up one too many times. Even when they did reconcile, it never lasted long.

After a few minutes of thinking, and an endless amount of silence, he looked at her with a sly smile curling his lips.

“Kitten, has anyone made you feel as good as I do? I don’t think so…” his lips widened even more with every second.

And, maybe, just maybe, he was right, and thinking about it left a bitter taste on your mouth. No one has ever made you feel like he did; does. Did it really matter if he shattered your heart? By the end of the day he would be just Yeonjun, the loving, caring and stupid boy you met through your friends.

Yeonjun could read you like a book, but you never really tried to hide your feelings or reactions either. Just the subtle brush of his fingertips on your arm was enough to get him under your skin again.

It’s all too overwhelming.

“You like this, don’t you?” He whispered. “It’s a cat and mouse game. Excited much?” Yeonjun added.

Oh, yes. This was nothing but a game.

Right before his eyes y/n was clearly aching. But you didn’t have anywhere to hide, did you? You opened the door and let him in.

It’s just you and me now, she thought.

“Who wins in the end?” Y/n looked at him with a bored expression, but in reality everything about her was fragile now.

Despite that, Yeonjun kept a smug look on his face, bringing her close to him. It was obvious what he was thinking.

“I’m not quite sure. Wanna find out?” He licked his lips and kissed her cheek.

His breath was hot on your collar, making you loudly swallow. He moved his mouth from your face to your ear, then jawline and lastly the neck, making you whole body shiver with the contact, a human contact you missed for weeks.

“Why do you treat me like this?” She mumbled, too dizzy with his touches.

“Now, that’s not what I asked, love. Do you want to find out how this game ends?”

A tear dared to almost run down your face. You wouldn’t let Yeonjun do that to you, though.

“M-mouse…” Y/N whispered. “Mouse wins.”

Yeonjun seemed amused by your response, which made his grin widen; you couldn’t properly speak without wanting to break right in front of him.

He pulled away from you, going back on his feet.

Is he going away again? You thought right before he offered his hands for you to take. And so you did, just like you did a few months ago.

Surprisingly, the palm of his hands were really warm and welcoming. Who would’ve thought, right?

“You’re so pretty, princess…” Yeonjun smoothed your hair and dragged his thumb across your lips.

Pretty? It’s more like ‘weak’.

He was asking for something, that was a fact even if unspoken. You couldn’t blame him, could you? He was just this good at turning the tables, so good to the point he would make you feel weak and break for him.

“You’re not supposed to be here…” That was everything y/n was able to reply. She was confused, frustrated. Why was he doing all of this? To torture you?

But it felt good, though; having him there in the middle of the living room under the dim lights of the apartment. You didn’t want to be alone, it was not a good option.

However, it was impossible to ignore the tension growing in the air.

Before she could think some more, Yeonjun stumbled with her into the kitchen, being quick to press a soft kiss on her lips and placing her on top of the counter.

It was a short touch of lips, but enough to make y/n sparkle inside and also shake with anxiety. He did know how to be convincing.

“This is the last time I tell you’ve got it wrong…the last time I’ll run away.” He mumbled, chin resting on her shoulder while she caressed his covered back.

“Only if you promise me your heart won’t ever stop beating for me.”

He nodded, a silent agreement.

Was it really?

“I promise.” Yeonjun smirked, holding y/n on his arms and dragging her down the hallway straight to her room.

Heh happy Valentine’s Day y’all

#txt x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun #yeonjun x reader #tomorrow x together x reader #txt imagines #txt x y/n #txt scenarios #yeonjun imagines

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badwithten · 2 years

Photo

11:21 PM

PAIRING Bangchan x fem!reader

GENRE fluff

WORD COUNT 598

A/N first fic back! not sure how good this is?? very rushed but just wanted to post something lol, so a small time stamp for chan:)

You never would be out of the house this late normally. Even on nights out you enjoyed showering and returning to the comfort of your own home before 10PM. But now it was approaching midnight and you sat on the damp bench outside of your apartment complex waiting for your lover to return home to you. Each car that approached made your heart grow with excitement, but it shrunk each time it didn't slow. Chan had been on tour for months now, and although you knew he wouldn't be home for long before he had to depart again, even seeing him for a minute was enough.

Chan soothed your soul, any hurt or discomfort melted away when you were in his arms. His solid chest is a place for you to rest, your emotions resetting and recharging. It was cheesy to say, but you truly believed Chan was your soulmate. You hadn’t been in many relationships but the few you had been in felt nothing like this. And even during those long romances, you truly thought you were in love.

But Chan, his love tasted different. He was your ice cold water in the middle of the night, the shade from intense heat on those hot Australian days. He built you up, never once knocking you down. You always described your mood as low before you meet him, but ever since you've been on a constantine high.

Maybe it was toxic to love so much, dangerous to be so dependent on someone. As you knew if Chan decided to move on you'd be distraught. But that was the thing about Chan's love, he was so transparent, so dedicated to proving how much he loved you.

Your eyes grew heavy and hands cold waiting so long for him to return home, but you knew if you waited inside youd fall asleep before he would arrive. And knowing Chan he wouldnt wake you, but you dont think you could wait til tomorrow to see him.

At last a car slowed to a stop outside of your apartment and you jumped up from your seat, pracotially bouncing from excitement. It was as if the gates of heaven opened and your own guardian angel finally decensedn. You could tell he was exhausted, the bags under his eyes and shoulders slumped. But that didnt stop him from wearing the biggest smile youve seen on him. Before you had a chance to say anything or react to his sudden arrival you were engulfed in his arms. His grip was tight, as if he was scared to let go. He buried his head into your shoulders and you could feel him breath down your neck. Not a word was spoken for a long while but his presence was enough.

Your hands were trapped against both your bpdies, still in your pockets. Evently you managed to sneak them out and wrap them around his waist. The feeling made him relax, loosening his grip. And at last he pulled away, finally taking in the glow of your face.

“Hey love” His voice was deep, giving you a shiver that wasnt from the cold. “I missed you”

You didnt say anything in response, instead capurting his mouth in a kiss. Warmth filled you up. He was back. After a moment more of taking in each others presence, he finally stepped away and took your hand in his.

“Let’s get inside your freezing”

“I hope you still have your keys, I think I left mine inside”

“Y/N!"

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rachalixie · 2 years

Text

a/n: for @moonacholy’s request for spooky fic with vampire hyunsung and witch felix and reader! sorry i lost your ask baby, i posted it and had to delete it and repost :(

you giggle at hyunjin’s sigh as jisung applies another layer of white makeup to his face, and you follow in with a delicate swipe of blush just like you knew he didn’t want it. he’s wearing a ridiculous dracula outfit that shouldn’t look good on anyone, complete with greased back hair and a red lined cape. but hyunjin looks unfairly good in everything, so. he looks phenomenal.

“vampires aren’t even this pale. i should know. i am one.” he whines, kicking jisung’s shin much harder than he ever could kick a human’s. jisung, on the other hand, went the twilight route, with glistening sparkly skin and his glowy yellow eyes out on display. he’s wearing a shirt that says say it. out loud. it made you cackle when he first emerged from his room in it.

“oh really?” jisung feigns surprise, his red-painted lips forming into a perfect ‘O’. “i’ve never met a vampire before! what’s that like? what does blood taste like?”

“jisung shut up, you literally drank some of my blood last night.” felix rolls his eyes as he joins you all in the kitchen and wraps an arm around you. “the blood that i drew out for a really important potion, and i now need to wait for the next full moon to arrive to do. remind me to never let you drink witches blood again, by the way, it makes you way too hyper.”

you ignore jisung’s indignant squawk to turn towards your boyfriend and press a soft kiss to his cheek. he has star sequins dotting his face, one for each freckle you could find, and his tall and pointy witches hat matches the one perched on top of your head. it almost falls off when you lean in, but he catches it with one hand while the other squeezes you closer into him. he winks at you as you let some of your magic seep through the air, turning the tips of his hair bright pink and the fringe of yours a deep purple.

“are we going out?” you ask, glancing at the time on the microwave’s clock. it’s nearly 10pm, the day is almost over and you want to get out at least a couple hours of being out and about in your true forms, even if it’s playing pretend. you’re meeting your werewolf friend chan and his packmates jeongin and seungmin at a party, and you’re sure that felix’ fae cousin changbin and his mermaid roommate minho will be there too. among a bunch of unassuming humans too, but tonight thats the least of your worries. its halloween, the one night you all don’t have to hide.

“one more shot before we go!” jisung cries, pouring out a couple of blood shots for him and hyunjin while you pour out normal ones for you and felix. in different colored shot glasses, of course, you can only make the mistake of accidently drinking blood once before you learn quickly how not to mix them up.

you all stumble out of your apartment together, walking towards the full moon and enjoying each other’s company until you hear a series of loud kissing noises and a thump coming from behind you.

“but hyunjinnie!” jisung is pouting, draping himself over hyunjin’s shoulders and keeping his grip when the taller boy tries to knock him off. “you’re my soulmate!”

“maybe. doesn’t mean i want your lips anywhere near mine.” the blonde boy grimaces, taking jisung’s hand anyways.

“after over 200 years of being together, you think they would get tired of the bickering,” felix’ deep voice hits your ears, drawing attention away from the mess behind you and onto the boy whose hand your holding.

“you think we’re going to end up like them in 100 years?” you ask, smiling at him as if you know the answer already.

he just smiles in response, eyes twinkling like the stars as you continue to walk together.

—

soft hours

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids fic #stray kids scenarios #lee felix fluff #lee felix stray kids #lee felix x you #lee felix x reader #lee felix x y/n #soft #hyunjin fluff #jisung fluff #hyunsung

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roman-cup · 12 days

Text

The butterfly effect (Wrightworth)

this is a old fic I posted on ao3 awhile ago and I realized I don't think I ever posted it here

Summary:

Its late at night, and as Miles and Phoenix lay down to go to bed, they end up discussing an important topic

What would they lives have been like is Miles father had not died?

Link to where it's posted on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47882047

Fic under cut

It was 10pm at night, and Phoenix was finishing getting ready for bed. He had just taken his shower, then he brushed his teeth for the night, all before walking into his bedroom. He hummed as moved to sit on his bed and then he turned to look over at Miles, who was currently laying still, hands clasped over his chest, staring up at the ceiling.

Phoenix frowned, concerned. “Miles?” He pulled his legs over the bed and he moved to sit next to him. “You ok? You are glaring at our ceiling.”

Miles blinked and looked over at Phoenix. His expression softened but still looked bothered. “Wright, I was,,,just thinking.”

“About?” Phoenix said, moving now to lay down next to him. Once he was laying down he moved slightly to place his head on Mile’s shoulder. Which Miles casually accepted.

Edgeworth went quiet. Phoenix frowned “You don’t have to tell me if it bothers you-”

“No no…” Miles hummed quietly “Its…I- its fine” he mumbled “I was just,,, I was thinking, about my father.”

“Miles..” Phoenix frowned, he reached a hand over to grab on to one of Edgeworth’s. Miles looked down at their hands, he held Phoenix's hand back and squeezed it.

“Its alright-” Miles moved his head to look Phoenix in the eyes, to try to reassure him. “It's just- more specifically, I have been thinking about what would have happened if he- was still alive.”

Phoenix nodded slowly. He can’t imagine how stressful everything Miles went through with his dad was. Of course the ‘what if’ idea would be in his head. Back in college, Phoenix had similar thoughts after the whole Dahlia thing. Like, y know, what if she hadn’t framed him for murder.

Phoenix knew those weren't the same experiences. An 8 month long relationship vs Mile spending 15 years of his life thinking he had killed his father. But still, Phoenix thought he could kind of relate.

“What do you think would have happened? You know,if he was alive.” Phenix asked tentatively. He didn’t want to pry but if Miles wanted to tell him, he would listen.

“I- don’t really know. Despite my best efforts, all my daydreams end with us leaving the elevator and going back home.” Miles frowned and looked away from Phoenix. Squeezing his hand again. “I can’t even bring myself to imagine what would have happened afterwards.”

Phoenix rubbed circles with his thumb on Mile’s hand. “Well,,,you would have probably stayed in school with us,” he commented.

Miles though, then nodded “you’re right. There would have been no reason for me to leave in that situation.”

“Maybe we would have grown up together.”

“Maybe?” Miles asked, a small laugh escaping his lips. “For some reason I can’t imagine you letting me get away from you long enough for that to just be a ‘maybe’, Wright.”

“Oh come onnn” Phoenix laughed. “I mean, who wouldn’t change their major to law in order to meet their old friend in court. Happens all the time.”

“Yes I’m sure thats true.” Miles smiled. Phoenix smiled back

“You know- seriously though- I’ve said it before, but, I don’t regret it.” Phoenix moved slightly to somehow cuddle closer to Miles, “I’d do it again, in a heartbeat.”

Miles looked back at him, he stared forward at him. He closed his mouth then opened it again, then closed it again. He cleared his throat. “Yes well-” Miles took his free hand which was just resting in his chest and ran a hand though Phoenix's hair. “Uh-,,,thank you.” he mumbled.

Phoenix hummed content with the contact. He looked up at the ceiling. “You know though, if you stayed in school, I probably wouldn't even have become a defense attorney.”

Miles thought for a moment. Before he quietly added. “Right, but I might have been.”

“I would have got my art degree.” Phoenix continued. “And you would be a defense attorney, what a pair.” Phoenix laughed a bit.

“That's what I think Ms. Fey would call ‘a power couple’.” Miled hummed. He was getting tired. Phoenix could tell with how his head was drooping. Phoenix smiled at the mention of Maya. Her and Miles have been hanging out more, they meet up weekly to watch the steel samurai. Which is good. Since Phoenix does not want to watch the steel samurai. It seems she is even having an influence on him. Still, one thing Miles had said stood out to him, he couldn't help but ask about it.

“You think we would still be together in this case?”

Miles paused, before he looked back down at phoenix. He still had a hand running through his hair, though a bit slowly since he was dozing off. “Why, I do not see why we wouldn’t? If anything I figured it would happen sooner- why do you not think so?” he frowned.

Phoenix just shrugged. “I mean- I dunno. I’d like to think we would be” He laughed “But I mean, geez thinking about it, Maya was the one who even convinced me to tell you how I feel, and I wouldn’t have met her if all this had happened.” Phoenix didn’t want to show it, because this was supposed to be a fun idea of ‘if Miles dad lived’ but the thought upset him greatly, never meeting Maya. She was one of his best friends, truly. He wouldn't want to imagine a world where they never met.

He should tell her that one day.

Miles stared blankly at him, like he could not comprehend the connection between his dad living and Phenix meeting Maya. Phoenix decided to fill in the gaps.

“I met Maya through Mia, and I would probably never have met Mia in this situation.”

“I don’t know.” Miles started “I know she is your mentor, but you still met her through a court case, if the same were to happen here too, I can imagine you and her having an unprofessional friendship of an attorney and her client. ”

Phoenix ignored the casual insult of the unprofessional comment. Mainly because he couldn't tell if it was aimed at him or Mia. Instead he spoke and said “Nu-uh. Wont have been on trial without Dahlia.” Phoenix leaned up to look Miles into the eyes before he grinned. “Why would I have been in a relationship with Dahlia when I had you~” he joked as he sang. It was deflection. He knew that, and he knew Miles knew that, he just hoped Miles was nice enough not to bring it up.

Miles frowned looking at Phoenix. “Wright…”

“Look I- just don’t want to talk about the Dahlia thing, y know?” Phoenix frowned. Miles wordlessly nodded, gesturing for Phoenix to lay back down. When he did, Miles went back to running his hand through his hair.

Phoenix felt selfish about it, in a way. Here Miles was getting better about opening up and discussing his father, and Phoenix still won’t talk about his thing, but he didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about how he was technically the reason Dahlia got away with poisoning that first time. Plus the whole Iris situation…he just, didn't want to think about it.

Plus, that wasn’t the point of this.

“Besides, Miles.” Phoenix started “ part of the reason Mia ever became an attorney was because of her mom. No Dl-6, no Misty Fey getting slandered as a fraud. Maybe Mia would have just stayed in her village.”

Phoenix remembered being told that Mia may have also left because she didn't want to fight Maya for the title of Master. But he wasn’t going to bring it. He wasn’t Mia. He had no way of knowing what she would have done if her mom stayed.

Miles made a noise in his throat at the mention of Misty. Phoenix figured he could understand why. Miles eventually just mumbled “So you would not have met either of them then, Mia, or Maya.”

Phoenix nodded “Yeah,,,probably not.” he frowned. He worried he was making Miles feel guilty about this. He opened his mouth to say something but then Miles spoke.

“I probably would not have met Franziska.”

Phoenix paused before he hummed a bit “Yeah, probably not, although if you were a defense attorney you may have faced her in court. Y‘Know, More than once.”

“You know that's not what I mean.” Miles sighed, he looked back up at the ceiling. Phoenix looked up as well. They would both silent for a moment before Miles spoke again “I don’t think I would like that. Not knowing her.”

Phoenix nodded wordlessly, understanding how Miles felt.

“Though it would be less painful.” Miles chuckled.

Phoenix thought about Frankziska’s whip then shuttered, before nodding again “Definitely.”

“So, where does that bring us?”

“Hm?”

“We were discussing if my father had lived, what would have happened, what have we established?”

Phoenix thought. “Well. You would have stayed in school,we probably would have continued to grow up with each other.” Phoenix started.

Miles continued where Pheonix left off “You would not have had to deal with being accused of murder, however, you would not have met any of the Feys.”

“But Mia and Maya would have had their mother, but you wouldn’t have met Franziska.” Phoenix nodded along.

“She would have probably continued to learn under her father.” Miles grumbled. Phoenix nodded.

“It is fascinating,” Miles started “How different things would be, if not for one terrible event.”

Phoenix nodded once again “It is really weird to think about, the butterfly effect really hurts my brain.”Phoenix laughed a bit, before getting somber “How do you feel though? Sorry, we were talking about your father and I made it kinda sad.”

Mile shook his head. “No no, I don’t think you caused anything, its just the natural progression of conversation.” Phoenix turned his head to look back at Miles, Miles looked at Phoenix as well before continuing “Weirdly, I feel,,,fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes, it is odd. Really. I would never say I am happy about what happened to my father, but..I don’t know.” Miles closed his mouth before opening it again. “I guess this just helped, a bit.”

Miles moved slightly, and he learned to give Pheonix a kiss on his forehead. “I do wish I could have my father back, but I also, am quite happy with how things are right now.”

Phoenix smiled slightly, he hummed in response. He willed himself to stay awake for Miles, but his eyes were getting heavy, though he would tell Miles would be close to falling asleep as well. “Yeah,” Phoenix hummed. “I am happy with how things are too.”

#phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #Wrightworth #Narumitsu #ace attorney

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