#I’m ready to just sit with popcorn in hand and let it all unfold | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

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~𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 ~

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ; hyunjin x fem!reader, SMUT!! childhood!bestfriends, in vino veritas, sex under influence, summer!au, uni!au, drunken confession, (not really) mutual pining, explicit language, piv, unprotected sex (once again, a bad example! don’t forget the raincap in the storm), riding, kinda vanilla sex, uuuh,,, corruption kink if you squint, orgasm (m/f), cum, muffled moaning? (that is not the correct term but lets go with that)

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 2.8 k

𝘙𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 ; ye ye thank u anon!! <3

𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦 ; lmao i know he has dark hair in the picture but just imagine that he’s blonde aight also damnit wtf happened to that edge of the header picture aaah,,, im no editor u guys- also once again, the fucking title has nothing to do with the story, i just felt like it

holy shit now i understand why i dont write vanilla sex or like slow stuff,,, because it pains me with cringe- or maybe i get flustered,,,

29. “Maybe I would like you better if you took off your clothes” ; The 1975 - If you’re too shy (Let me know)

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 18.

Hwang Hyunjin.

You liked him in every type of way. You even liked the way his name rolled of your tongue like some kind of sweet mantra. You would have confessed if only he wasn’t your childhood best friend.

“y/n! ready to parteeey?” he yelled across the crosswalk, holding up a slightly dirty tan canvas bag, the bottles of cold liquor clinking against each other as he moved, the green man lighting up on the red stoplight. His high platform sneakers moved swiftly against the white striped concrete, making his way over to you and stretching out his arms, catching you in an embrace when he finally crossed the road.

“i see you brought drinks even if it’s only a casual sleepover” you chuckled, patting him on the back as you pulled away, walking towards the direction of your house in the scorching summer evening.

“of course, who said you couldn’t have a party with two people?” he answered back, slightly embarrassed by the way the bottles hit each other, causing other pedistrians to turn their heads. You shrugged your shoulders, looking at him as you walked closeby his side, admiring his profile and the way his blonde long locks were pushed behinds his ears, exposing his cute studded earrings. He turned his head, gazing at you to which you quickly diverted your eyes towards the ground below your feet, hearing Hyunjin giggle from your antics.

“how’s your mom? she doing good?” he asked after walking a couple of meters, holding the bag in one hand and his phone in the other one.

“yeah! but why do you ask? you literally messaged her yesterday” you smiled to which Hyunjin hummed, pouting and shrugging.

“because she’s like my best friend,,, duh?” he chuckled, poking you playfully at the side of your tummy causing you to flinch away, you being rather ticklish.

“hey! you can’t just make my mom your bestie, tsk,, stealing away my mom like that” you said, laughing in between words and noticing that the two of you were soon standing infront of your house door, the kitchen and living room window radiating warm yellow light and a silhouette moving behind the dark curtains. You retreived the keys that were in the pockets of your shorts, something you threw on quickly to go meet Hyunjin even though he knew the way to your house. It was just an excuse to be with him a bit longer.

You put the keys in the lock, jumbling around as Hyunjin looked at you with glossy dark brown eyes, holding the bag with two hands in front of his knees. The door opened and the light shined on you, illuminating the front yard that was getting dark as the sun was setting. The two of you stepped in, removing your shoes and hearing Hyunjin place the bag down on the cold tile flooring moments before your mother walked out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn.

“Oh hello Hyunjin! How’s school?” She asked, placing 3 pieces of popcorn in her mouth and chewing, her jaw moving from side to side.

“Uni is going great, stressful but y/n helps me,,, kinda” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head and looking down at the ground, you playfully hitting him on his upper arm. Your mom smiled at the two of you.

“Don’t stay up too late!” she yelled as she made her way to the living room where your dad was lounging on the sofa with a cold beer in his hands, watching a game of football.

“We won’t mom!” you yelled back, grabbing Hyunjin’s bag and waving your hand, signaling for him to follow you to your bedroom. He tiptoed carefully, not wanting to knock something down even though he’s slept over at yours well over a thousand times since your early childhood but still, it was in Hyunjin’s nature to be gentle and timid at first glance, another reason as to why you liked him so much.

Your bedroom was nothing out of the ordinary. White walls filled with various trinkets, family photos decorating them. Your bed was big enough to fit two but you had a sleeping bag in the corner of the room from just how often Hyunjin would crash at your place. There was not much more besides a cluttered desk, your single bed and a carpet along with a white drawer and a mirror. You plopped down on the bed, feeling the soft material against your exposed calfs. Hyunjin knew what to do, grabbing and unfolding the sleeping bag before emptying the contents of his beige bag, multiple bottles of beer and cider along with a small bottle of pure vodka.

“Why the fuck did you bring vodka? You know my parents are gonna kill me if they find this in my room” you sneered, rolling your eyes at the boy that was sitting on the bedroom floor, mischievously looking up at you.

“y/n you’re in uni, what are they gonna do? ground you?” you shook your head.

“Yeah? or kick me out of the house” you persisted, tilting your head as Hyunjin looked around the room in search for a bottle opener.

“Says the girl that puked behind a slide” he laughed to which you kicked him, causing him to fall over and you getting the final laugh.

“I’m gonna go grab some snacks and a bottle opener since you’re too weak to open them” you tsked, heading towards the door and turning the doorknob.

“ppft,,, too weak” you heard Hyunjin complain as you exited the room, small steps making their way to the kitchen. You flipped the light switch, the grey lamp hanging from the ceiling, you witnessing the messy dishes from dinner earlier. You opened the dark brown cabinet where you usually stored your snacks, grabbing two packets of crisps and rummaging through the smaller cabinet that was home for the multitude of kitchen supplies your dad and mom like to collect. You found one, decorated with some picture of a sea, probably from one of dads business trips you thought, closing the cabinets and turning off the light, stepping back to your bedroom.

“Here” you said, throwing the metal opener towards the blonde boy that was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, lying sprawled out on the carpet. Hyunjin dramatically clutched his stomach, acting as if he’s been hit with a boulder to which you scoffed, sitting down next to him on the floor and opening the first bag of crisps and being once again disappointed by the air to chip ratio.

Hyunjin opened two bottles of beer, handing one over to you which you happily received, putting the slightly cold edge against your hot lips and drinking the bitter liquid, feeling it burn a bit in your throat but soothe it in this summers heat. Your face contorted into disgust, looking on the rather dodgy blue lable that was peeling a bit on the edges. You looked over to Hyunjin that was making a similar expression to yours, his nose sqrunching in that cute manner it always did.

“aren’t we both like,,, too easily influenced?” he said quietly as you stood up, retrieving your computer to put on a movie. You nodded, giggling when you sat back down and placed the computer on the floor, typing something on your computer and pointing towards the screen.

“this one or,,,, this one?” you said to which Hyunjin pointed at the latter, knowing he would pick the animated movie, him being childish as he is.

An hour passed and at this point the two of you were tipsy, multiple bottles making their presence known by standing beside you, all emptied to the last drop. The alcohol was flushing Hyunjin’s cheeks, tinging them with a light red along with the tips of his ears, your hearts thumping from how dangerously close his hand was to yours. You were starting to get tired, probably drowsy from the alcohol you thought as you layed down to which Hyunjin reacted, patting his lap.

“Put your head here, why put it on the floor?” he chuckled, his words slurring slightly. You froze, comtemplating on whether or not you should do it or if your heart could even manage being in contact with him. You cleared your throat, trying to get back to your senses. He was your childhood best friend for fuck sake. Shyly you put your head on his thigh, still watching the movie and trying to focus on what was happening on the screen but being completely lost in your own lewd thoughts, wondering how his soft lips would feel brushing up against yours, ctaching you in a hasty kiss. You sighed as the end credits rolled, seeing Hyunjin’s angular face reflecting on the screen and his gaze catching yours on the reflective monitor. Both of you burst out in laughter, the substances intoxicaing you into a laughing fit. You sat up again, pushing him by the shoulder and causing him to fall over with his arms stretched out to the sides, you falling closely to him and using his forearm as a headrest.

“y/n, have you ever liked me?”

You gulped. Was it that apparent? You shook your head, mumbling a quiet “no” to which Hyunjin giggled, his chest heaving up and down. He messed with his blonde hair, pushing it back and furrowing his eyesbrows before relaxing his facial features, closing his eyes softly.

“i like you but maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes”

You choked on your own spit, sitting up and patting yourself on the chest. It was unlike Hyunjin to speak this bluntly, especially about such suggesstive topics. He laughed at your reaction, acting as if he hadn’t just made you choke with only his words. After the initial shock set in you decided to play smart, if he was being oblivious so would you. You looked back at the blonde boy that still had his eyes closed, smirking and with a tone interlaced with pure erotic connotations you said;

“yeah? and if I did take off my clothes, what would you do?” you giggled back at him, feeling a warm flash of heat zap through your body and ultimately landing in your dripping core. Hyunjin’s eyes sprung open, the corners of his mouth curling upwards into a exuberant smirk. A million thoughts ran through Hyunjin’s mind. Should he continue the little game he had started or end it all now in order to save your friendship? But maybe ruining your friendship was exactly what he needed or more like what you needed.

The tall boy sat up, pulling you by your wrist and quickly pursing his cherry red lips, clashing them against the surface of your gently chapped pout. You thought you melted right then and there, taking in the scent of the boy you never invisioned yourself kissing but here you were, your lips pressed up against his. He grabbed your hand, encasing yours in his and feeling the warmth radiating from your nervous state. With a slight tilt of the head, Hyunjin could reach deeper inside your mouth, tracing his tongue over yours and pursing his lips causing a smooching sound to escape. Your felt his hot breath stroking your heated cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

“a-are you ok, y/n? I’m s-sorry!” he said, pulling away and hiccuping after finishing his sentence. You shook your head, giggling which caught Hyunjin by surprise. You were ecstatic.

“please kiss me Hyunjin, i’ve been wanting you so bad” you mumbled, Hyunjin’s jaw clenching in confusion.

“me? i want you!” he said, laughing at your seriousness causing you to crack a smile, pushing him down on the floor and slamming the computer shut, the background track of the movie disappering. Now only the sound of the loud TV downstairs was heard along with your lips pecking Hyunjin’s. You hovered above the boy, your hands on either side of him. You felt your wet cunt aching for him, you wanted him inside of you and it seemed like you weren’t the only excited one, Hyunjin’s bulge growing bigger with every caress of his body. Your hands snaked down to the zipper of his ripped jeans, with a steady hand unzipping and unbuttoning, wanting to free him from his clothed prison that was keeping you from him.

“Eager or something?” Hyunjin tsked, trailing kisses along your jawline and neck. You didn’t answer his stupid question. Of course you were eager, this was what you had dreamed of for years. This was what played out in every single wet dream you ever had. This was what occupied your mind when nothing else mattered. It was him. Hwang Hyunjin.

Hyunjin bucked his hips upwards, granting you the honor to pull down his pants and boxers in a brisk motion which you happily took. His cock sprung free, leaking with precum embarrassingly enough causing you to snicker. Could the sight of his best friend make him this horny? You quickly moved aside from Hyunjin’s figure in order to free yourself from your shorts and white lace panties. The blonde boy was in a dilemma. He liked you,,, a lot, but you were his best friend. Was it worth risking a friendship for sex and maybe even something else?

Your answer was yes. Yes if it was Hyunjin.

You straddled Hyunjin’s thigh, balancing on your knees and placing your hands firmly on his hard abdomen, positioning your hungry hole above his dick, the slit being decorated with a shining pearl of precum. Hyunjin’s eyes were closed in anticipation, his hands trying to grab onto the carpet on the floor, clawing at the material.

“you good? ready?” you asked in worry, thinking maybe he was uncomfortable.

Hyunjin shook his head in agreement. He was nervous. If he opened his eyes he could cum by just the lewd sight of your pussy about to swallow his dick whole. He was adorable being this shy, always acting innocent but not really living up to that standard, at least not in this moment. You slowly sink down on his erect cock, Hyunjin letting out a hiss at the same time you gasped, slapping a hand over your mouth in order to not be too loud. The boy was stretching you out to the brink of completion, it was impossible to bottom out from the sheer size of his throbbing cock. Hyunjin turned his head side to side, his cheek coming in contact with the cold floor. He looked in pain, his forehead furrowing but he reassured you that it felt good, maybe even too good. Your gently bounced up and down his cock, with each thrust earning another groan from the panting boy. Seeing him lost in pleasure made your core burn with arousal, needing to chase your impending orgasm. The boy slowly opened his eyes, peeking at you rocking backwards and forwards on his cock, biting your lip and tracing your hands along his abdomen underneath his shirt.

“d-does it feel good?” he asked in a dazed voice, striking a half smile as he moved his hands to your waist, simply resting them there. You nodded, lulling your head backwards, your tits bouncing underneath the fabric of your oversized t-shirt, hardened nipples poking through. Hyunjin drooled at the sight and the sensations. He had longed for this just as much as you had. Hyunjin’s hands trailed up your shirt, wrapping his hands around your boobs and harshly kneading them, the pads of his thumb gliding over your nipples. You shuddered, clenching around his cock, Hyunjin’s eyes shut tightly and his toes curling from the sensation of balancing on a pinnacle, tumbling into his orgasm. He couldn’t control his words, whispering your name out like a mantra along with the words “i love you”. Those were words you didn’t hear him say often.

The feeling of his hot cum oozing between your velvety walls got you holding onto Hyunjin’s shirt for life, his hand gently placed over your parted lips that continusly spilled with whimpers and pleas. You looked at Hyunjin with lost eyes, your pace slowling down as you rode out your orgasm, thighs shaking involuntarily, giving up beneath you. Hyunjin lifted slightly by your hips, you pulling off him and with a thud rolled over on your back, laying next to him on the floor. The room filled with heavy breathing, sweaty bodies trying to find composure after the rather interesting orgasm. All your thoughts were in once big mush, hindering you from forming a sentence.

“What now?” Hyunjin said in a sleepy manner, rolling over to his side and hugging you awkwardly. You didn’t know. All you knew that you wanted him. You were hoping he would become yours. More than once.

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one-more-offbeat-anthem · 3 years

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after the credits

to thirteen years of cas and of the greatest love story ever told...an empty rescue fic for y’all :) 2.3k, read on ao3 here

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After a while, Castiel gets tired of watching. He’s practically dreaming all the time, but he’s so tired.

Eternal sleep is not restful.

He can’t leave the Empty, but he manages to mold it, with his mind, into a theater. He went to one once, with Dean, and there are probably nicer theaters, like those for plays and operas, but this movie theater is right for him. If he concentrates, he can almost smell burnt, buttery popcorn and spilled soda and old carpet, and Dean right next to him, aftershave and car oil and whiskey.

Almost.

The scenes unfold in a memorable order, because they’re Cas’s own memories. At first, he tried to jump in, alter the scene, but he’s powerless. So, like clockwork, he watches. He’s saving Dean in hell. He’s being stabbed in the chest by the same man he raised. He’s asking Dean to get answers from Alastair and then almost getting the grace pressed out of him. He’s slamming his palm onto a bloody sigil. He’s--

Everything, all of his twelve years on earth, pass by, over and over and over again.

Right now, it’s an early scene, not far into the cycle. It’s not one of his favorites, because he can see the expression on his face, remembers exactly how he felt. Remembers that he he was feeling at all.

“That was a pretty awkward kiss, huh?”

Cas turns sharply at the sound of Dean’s voice. Of course, Dean does talk in this scene, before he kisses Anna. But this Dean is sitting next to him, frowning at the screen.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Cas says.

“I know.”

Chances are this is just the Empty trying to mess with him. Last week a random trashcan showed up in his theater. Or maybe it was last year, or a millenia ago, or five minutes from now. Time is weird.

They keep watching in silence. On the screen, in the memory, Cas’s head jerks away from the sight of Dean and Anna kissing. The scene flips then, to a park at night, Anna right in front of Cas, no Dean in sight.

“For the first time, I feel...” Memory-Cas says.

“It gets worse,” Anna warns.

“So your first feeling….” Dean starts.

“It was something.” Cas can’t look at him. The scene on-screen changes.

Dean, to his merit, doesn’t press.

The memories progress through the year they spent trying to stop the apocalypse, the year that ended with Sam diving into the pit and Dean going off to Lisa’s. Then through Cas starting to work with Crowley, a conversation that happened right behind Dean without his knowledge.

On-screen, Cas is watching Dean rake leaves. The expression on his face is nearly mournful. After a moment, Crowley steps into view.

“Ah, Castiel. Angel of Thursday. Just not your day, is it?” Crowley says.

“What are you doing here?” Memory-Cas asks.

“I want you to help me help ourselves.”

“Speak plain.”

Crowley smirks. “I want to discuss a simple business transaction. That’s all.”

“You want to make a deal? With me? I’m an Angel, you ass. ”

The scene flips again.

“Is there a way to pause this?” Dean asks.

Cas shakes his head. “It just does this, on a loop. I can’t sleep. The Empty won’t let me.” He puts a hand on the armrest between them. “I forced the theater up, to make it better.”

“It looks a lot like that theater we went to once.”

“I know.” Cas stares at Dean for a moment, looks away.

Many of these scenes are things Dean knows of. Cas works with Crowley, gets locked in a ring of fire, feels his chest seize up as Dean looks back for a moment. Watches the Leviathans lead him to a lake. They meet again on porch steps, Cas unable to remember who he is but still able to figure out that Dean is important. Cas gets his memories back, takes on Sam’s hell trauma. They go to Purgatory, Cas stays behind. It’s like clockwork.

Until.

“I don’t remember that,” Dean says slowly, watching himself die on the screen. “You never--you’ve never killed me.”

“Yes and no.” Cas knows what’s coming next--he’s going to kill Dean thousands of times. Each one is the same, with Cas in tears as these copies, mock-ups of Dean struggle, beg and plead, tell him not to. Each time, Naomi makes him do it again.

Until, finally, he doesn’t hesitate.

And she says he’s ready.

As they watch that scene in the crypt unfold, with the real Dean at Cas’s mercy, Dean leans forward, putting his elbows on his thighs and propping his chin in his hands. “You lied.”

“Hm?”

“You said you didn’t know what broke the connection.” Dean twists his head to look at Cas. “But you did.”

“I did,” Cas assents.

They watch Cas ride cross-country on a bus, pulling out his phone and almost calling Dean over and over again.

“Is there a way that we can see some of my memories?” Dean asks.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”.

Dean shrugs. “Well, I am here, and you figured out how to make a friggin movie theater, so I think I can do it.”

The image on the screen shudders, coalesces, breaks into a million pieces and then reforms. Dean is standing on the edge of a lake, picking up Cas’s coat, still covered in Leviathan goo. “You dumb son of a bitch,” Memory-Dean mutters, wrapping up the coat in his arms.

The scene flickers again--the coat in those same hands, moving from car to car to car, and then being passed to Cas. “I always knew you’d come back ,” Memory-Dean says. It’s a soft scene, almost, but then it flips to Dean seizing a monster’s collar in purgatory. He’s covered in blood and grime as he shoves the monster up against a tree, practically growling, “Where’s the angel?”

Even after the monster answers, Dean guts him.

It’s a cycle. The memory blurs through sleepless nights, through Dean stepping into streams to pray, prayers Cas knows well. It pushes past Cas letting go of Dean’s arm in the portal, and here’s something else new: Dean sees Cas on the side of the road, sees him outside the window while it pours down rain, sitting bolt upright at the phantom sight of Cas’s face.

“Why are you here?” Cas finally asks. This must really be Dean, after all. The Empty wouldn’t know these things, wouldn’t be able to dream them up. They’re too good, too honest.

“To bring you home.” Dean kicks the back of the seat in front of him, leans back in his own chair.

“I can’t go home.”

“You should.” The scene on screen rapidly changes--it’s Dean as he looks now, carrying a little boy on his back. The little boy is blonde, round-faced, holding onto Dean’s neck for dear life, laughing as Dean swings around.

“Is that--” No, it can’t be.

“Yep. He’s four, you know.” Dean clears his throat. “He misses you.”

“I wish I could have gotten to say good-bye.” Cas trails off.

“Come home. Then you never have to say it.”

Cas shakes his head. On the screen, Dean is reading to Jack, Jack following the words with a chubby finger. “It would be...awkward.”

“How?” Dean raises an eyebrow. “We’re family, dude. Jack misses you, Sam misses you, and Eileen’s been hanging around, and me…” Dean clamps his mouth shut.

That’s why.

“Things aren’t going to be the same. Not after…” Cas takes a deep breath. “What I said. We won’t be able to ignore it.”

“Then we won’t.”

“Dean--”

“You don’t know?” Dean’s eyebrows furrow. “You don’t know. Okay. I, uh…” The screen turns black.

“You what?” Cas is almost afraid to know.

“I didn’t want you to see this.”

The blackness unfurls into Billie’s library, Dean standing in front of her. They’re clearly in the middle of a conversation.

“What do you want me to say?” Memory-Dean asks. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. ”

“Don’t you?” Billie replies.

“I couldn’t save Mom. I couldn’t save Cas. I can’t even save a scared little kid. Sam keeps trying to fix it, but I just keep dragging him down. So I’m not going to beg. Okay, if it’s my time, it’s my time.”

“Dean--” Cas starts, but Dean just looks at the floor, like he’s trying to avoid this.

“You really believe that,” Billie says. “You wanna die.”

“When was this?” Cas asks, speaking over the rest of Billie��s statement.

“It was...right before we, uh, got the call from you. That you were back.” Dean leans his head all the way up, looks at what would be the movie theater’s ceiling, if it wasn’t in the void. “I had a bad time. I…I would show it to you. But I don’t want you to see me like that. I held it together enough to wrap your body and burn it…”

“Hunter’s funeral.”

“Only kind I know how to do.” Dean swallows, audibly. “I’m doing what I can now. Having Jack to take care of, and Eileen around, too, helps. But it’s…” He finally looks at Cas again. “Please let me take you home. Please come home with me.”

Cas would do anything for Dean Winchester. He has done anything for him before. So he will grant him this, at least the illusion, because Cas knows he can’t leave the Empty. He’s trapped here for eternity.

He takes Dean’s hand.

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

There is a little boy crawling on him.

“Daddy,” the boy says, poking his face, “I know you’re awake.”

“Jack,” Dean says, from somewhere up above, “Cas is still sleeping.”

Cas blinks rapidly. “‘M not.”

“Shouldn’t’ve said that.” Dean releases Jack, and Jack fully clambers onto Cas.

“I missed you,” Jack says.

“I missed you too.” Cas holds onto him, tight. He’s so small, like he’s supposed to be. A kid. Safe.

Cas thinks he might be in Dean’s bed.

The bunker, he discovers, looks much the same. He was gone for four months, in which time Dean and Sam took care of Chuck, Jack became a kid, and Eileen became a permanent fixture. When Dean and Sam aren’t looking, she signs to Cas, “He already looks better.”

“Who, Dean?” Cas signs back.

Eileen nods. “He had a pretty bad time.”

Dean turns around then, and Eileen presses a finger to her lips.

There’s not a quiet moment for the rest of the day. Sam explains what happened--”You might be human now,” he says, and Cas replies, “I’m not tired yet.”--and Jack wants Cas to read to him and play Barbies and racecars and puppets (apparently Dean built Jack’s little puppet theater, which--).

After dinner (spaghetti and meatballs, and Dean has a Coke instead of beer, Cas notices), everyone goes off to bed, and Cas realizes he is tired, which is something to think about.

He starts to head to the room he typically stays in, but Dean seizes the top of his arm. “Nope, you’re coming with me.” Dean drags Cas down the hall towards his room.

Cas hadn’t gotten a good luck at it earlier, what with Jack climbing all over him, but he sees it now. Dean’s bed unmade, scraps of random paper littered across the dresser, a picture Cas recognizes because he and Dean are wearing cowboy hats, and now he knows how Dean was really doing right before that case in Dodge City--

There’s also a dent in the wall. That’s new.

Dean follows Cas’s gaze. “I chucked a whiskey bottle at it. Sam took the rest of my stash the next day.” Dean steps over, brushing the drywall’s cracks with his fingers. “I didn’t fix it up so I wouldn’t forget.”

I couldn’t save Cas. I can’t even save a scared little kid. Sam keeps trying to fix it, but I just keep dragging him down. So I’m not going to beg. Okay, if it’s my time, it’s my time.

“Dean,” Cas says, “Tell me in words.”

“What?” Dean turns away from the wall. “Tell you what?”

“You know.”

Dean swallows, licks his lips. “I’d say don’t ever do that again on the whole dying thing, but I said that to you once and you didn’t listen. And maybe if I say it the right way now, you’ll stay, but…” Dean slumps, sits on the bed. “You can’t leave again.”

Cas touches the wall himself before sitting next to Dean on the bed. “I’m not going to.” He isn’t sure if he’s allowed to touch Dean.

Dean touches him instead, leaning into Cas, finding one of Cas’s hands, holding it tight. He’s crying, Cas realizes. “I love you,” Dean says into their joined hands, then his chest wracks with a sob. “I was always so sure that if--” another sob, “If I said it, you’d leave. Get taken away from me.”

“I’m not going to leave,” Cas repeats.

He isn’t sure how long they sit like that, but Dean finally straightens up, lets go of Cas’s hand, wipes his eyes with the back of his own. “Pajamas,” Dean says, standing and crossing to the dresser. “We gotta get you some of your own, but…” He digs a pair of sweats out of the drawer and tosses them to Cas. “These’ll do for tonight.”

Cas doesn’t ask if he can stay. Dean doesn’t ask him to leave.

With the lights out, it’s pitch black, almost as inky as the Empty, but Cas can hear Dean breathing, so close to him. The bed is almost too small for both of them, so they’re nearly chest-to-chest. Hardly ever have they been this close. Never did Cas dare to dream it.

In the dark, under the covers, the world outside of this room, Dean kisses him. It’s flat, soft, a brush of lips, the barest ghost, but it’s enough. More than enough.

Cas is home.

#offbeatwrites #it's DEANCASAVERSARY #IT'S CAS DAY #IT'S CAS'S BIRTHDAY #it's also one of my best friend's birthdays she has the best birthday huh #anyways I don't really know where this fic came from I just went hey. what if cas hadmovie theater #and I LOVEEEEE the trope of them showing each other their memories. there was so much stuff that if they'd just TALKED about it..........#god.#anyways! enjoy :)#also yeah minor similarities to a drabble I wrote this summer #that was very much an accident but I think they're different enough

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Note

What do you think the greatest brotrayal of all time would be?

What?

Somewhat of a challenge, not sure I pulled it off, but I hope you enjoy it anyway :D

Thanks to @janetm74 @scribbles97 @vegetacide and @tsarinatorment for various read throughs and cheerleading :D

Sorry, Scott :D

-o-o-o-

Scott glared at his brothers.

Virgil, John and Gordon stood in a line on the comms room hardwood floor all looking straight ahead as if they were in a military inspection. Which was particularly odd since only one of them had ever been in said military.

Hell, even his grandmother was ramrod straight beside them.

Scott was absolutely beside himself. Still dressed in his uniform, complete with its coating of mud, he had no doubt that his appearance was anything but reassuring to the brothers standing in front of him.

Not that he cared. This was beyond it all.

This was so ludicrous that it was hard to even suspect Gordon as the culprit.

Though he was still the most likely despite his arm being in a sling.

Scott eyed his fish brother. He had a scratch above one eyebrow that hadn’t been there when Scott left this morning.

But then a lot was different on Tracy Island since he left this morning.

The most obvious difference was the Thunderbird stuck at an angle where the pool was supposed to be.

His ‘bird was shining in the late afternoon light, her silver hull gleaming as she sat at a sixty-degree angle just beyond the balcony, her wings gouged into the concrete of the patio.

Virgil shifted where he stood on his crutches and Scott felt the briefest flash of guilt at making him stand there. His engineer brother had been grounded for the last week with a broken ankle, along with Gordon and his broken arm. Which is why Scott had been in Two today with the currently guilt free Alan.

His youngest brother stood off to one side, apparently caught between shock and relief that he wasn’t to blame.

“I’m waiting for an explanation.” For several things.

The room still reeked of burnt furnishings. Whatever had happened in the kitchen had left it black and under a haze of smoke that had infiltrated the villa.

As if to comment, John sneezed suddenly. His space brother sniffed and screwed up his face before he realised Scott was eyeing him. He, too, was standing on crutches, something he wasn’t doing this morning.

And still no-one said anything.

Not even Grandma, and honestly that was a kicker.

“Gordon-“

“What are you looking at me for?”

Scott shot him a flat stare. “History.”

“Hey, the last time I borrowed One, I brought her back in one piece.”

“Complete with Eau de Polecat!”

“That does not automatically put me at fault. Besides this was an emergency.”

Scott blinked. A little progress. “And?”

But Gordon clammed up and went back to staring at the portraits on the far side of the room, every bit the WASP Lieutenant Tracy he actually was.

Scott turned to John, his ever-faithful source of relevant information.

“J-“

“I’m sitting down.” John turned and crutched his way past Scott and into the sunken lounge without another word.

Scott stared after him.

“Honey, are you feeling okay?” His grandmother followed his space brother and began fussing over him and his leg, both completely ignoring Scott.

What the-? “How. Did. This. Happen?!” Okay, so he might be yelling just a little, but the cause was sufficient. He turned to his trusted first. His best friend. His brother. His Virgil.

Said brother was looking rather pale. “Virgil?”

Sad, dark eyes looked up at him. “I wanted to make you popcorn.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil was frustrated. Virgil was always frustrated when he was grounded and today sported no reason to change that attitude.

Worse, he had had to watch Scott take his ‘bird out to a mudslide. His big brother was not a fan of flying Two, but since Virgil had a busted ankle and Gordon an equally busted arm, that was the deal today.

To top it all off, mudslides sucked big time and Scott and Alan would likely come home exhausted, especially since two of their brothers were currently unavailable to assist.

So, to help just that little bit he had spent the last couple of hours hobbling around the kitchen slapping together something that could be considered a relaxing meal for that evening, vetoing any chance of Grandma getting into the kitchen and destroying stomach linings.

It helped that Grandma was in Wellington with Kayo.

To top it off, Virgil had put together an apple pie, Scott’s favourite. He had also made sure there was a bucket of triple chocolate ice cream in the freezer for Alan – one that he had stashed away for emergencies just like this.

The last thing on his list was to make some candy popcorn for the squirt and put some kernels aside ready for popping later so they would be nice and warm for the movie.

He was in the process of heating the oil when Gordon burst into the room as if out of nowhere.

Virgil to dropped a spoon.

Damn sandshoes were silent.

“Hubert’s dying!”

“What?” His back creaked as he picked up the piece of cutlery.

“Hubert, the albatross that collided with the window and broke his wing.”

“What albatross?” The oil began to smoke a little so he turned the heat off. His Gordon radar was at full alert – this would likely take a while.

“Yesterday? Upstairs? How did you not hear that?” A blink. “Okay, it was five am. You don’t exist before ten, I’m sorry.” The sarcasm was dripping and a little caustic. “Regardless, Hubert has gone limp and I think he’s dying, Virg. Help me please.” The accompanying clasped hands reminiscent of either prayers or vigorous begging, complete with a sling that wasn’t doing what it was supposed to, were a little over the top.

“Okay. Fine. Show me the patient.” He reached over and nudged the broken arm back into its sling while Gordon glared him.

“Hurry up.”

Virgil grabbed his crutches and followed Gordon to the stairs before darting sideways and thumbing the elevator doors open.

“Okay, fine, hop-a-long.” Gordon jumped down the last few steps and hurried into the elevator with Virgil.

He bounced on his heels the entire way to the infirmary level.

Virgil watched his agitation and realised that whatever was wrong with this bird, Gordon had invested himself in it, much like every other injured animal he had dragged home since he had learnt to walk.

Gordon ushered Virgil into the infirmary and to his horror, he found the limp sea bird strapped secure in one of the beds. “Gordon, have you heard of hygiene?”

“It’s fine. The sheets are clean. He’s safe.”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

But Gordon’s whine drew him into examining the bird, which, considering it was avian, did not comply with the human knowledge Virgil possessed.

“I don’t really know, Gords.” Virgil stabbed at the infirmary’s computer interface, interrogating the net for baseline vitals for an albatross. Hell, he didn’t even know which species.

“It’s a Gibson’s Albatross.” Gordon was stroking the unconscious bird gently with his fingers.

This was not the first time, nor was it likely to be the last time Virgil found himself in this situation, though the species did vary. As always, his answer was. “I’m sorry, Gordon. You need a qualified vet.”

“But I set his wing. He should be getting better.” Gordon’s age regressed around animals and tended to break Virgil’s heart in the process.

“I’m sorry, Gordon.”

“For goodness sake, we’re International Rescue!” The plea in his brother’s eyes stabbed right where it hurt.

But then those eyes widened and a light bulb went off above Gordon’s head.

Or it could have been a pre-emptive precursor for the migraine Virgil suddenly knew he was going to end up with.

“No, Gordon.”

“But he’s dying!” Gordon grabbed Virgil by the arm. “It’s our job to save lives.”

“How exactly are we going to get him to the mainland? Neither of us can fly.” Virgil wasn’t going to admit it, but the bird didn’t look like it was going to last long enough for another family member to make it home. “I’m sorry, Gordon.” He was already calculating how to cheer up his little brother.

“No!”

He sighed. It wasn’t as if he wanted the bird to die. Hell, if he was hail and healthy, he would have already put it on Tracy Two and be halfway to Auckland by now. But there was no way he was risking himself or his brother in a plane with a broken limb. Maybe Kayo might get back in time?

But then the inevitable happened. He should have seen it coming.

“We can take Thunderbird One!”

Virgil blinked. “What? No!” God, no, Scott would kill him.

“This is a life, Virgil! What makes a bird’s any less important than a human’s? It’s his life, our house has endangered it, and now we aren’t doing anything to help save it? How is that fair?” Gordon’s fists were now clenched at his sides, the sling yet again ignored. Fiery carnelian glared at Virgil. “I can’t do it with my arm, but Thunderbird One doesn’t require feet to operate.” A flicker of his eyelids. “This is on you.”

Virgil stared at his little brother.

A glance at the limp bird on the bed.

Back to Gordon, ever so fiery and passionate.

Virgil reached down, unfolded Gordon’s fist and pulled the sling back into place.

Ten minutes later he found himself doing what he did every time this kind of situation happened.

Thunderbird One launched with Virgil at the helm and Gordon clutching a desperately ill albatross in the back seat.

-o-o-o-

Scott stared at his second eldest brother, the man with whom he trusted so much. Virgil had literally held Scott’s life in his hands on several occasions.

“You borrowed One to take an injured bird to the vet.”

Virgil shifted where he stood. “It was to save a life.”

Scott turned to the lounge and glared at John. “And you let him fly with a broken ankle?”

John returned the glare with equal strength. “Are you kidding me? This is Virgil we’re talking about. I thought One was safer in his hands than yours.”

“What?!”

“It’s not like he’s going to do anything stupid with your ‘bird, is he?”

There were no words, so Scott just gestured in the direction of the pool.

With both hands.

“Yeah, well, probabilities can’t predict everything.”

The flippant, non-answer went straight to Scott’s head and rattled around in there for a moment or two before he chose to file it for later or risk implosion. John was rubbing at his foot and Scott latched onto it to save his sanity. “How did you hurt yourself?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, the kitchen caught fire. Kayo had already been called out again and I was worried about Grandma.”

“And?”

“I tripped.”

“Over what?”

“My own feet! It’s not every day you see Thunderbird One get stuck in the pool!” John glared at Scott. “Cahelium on concrete is very loud.”

Scott stared at him, not willing to face the image those words inflicted on him.

“Why was the kitchen on fire?”

But then something Virgil had said popped into his mind. He couldn’t help it, he rubbed his face with his hand. “Grandma, why didn’t you wait for Virgil to get home?”

“He left the popcorn on the counter, dear, I was trying to help.” Grandma wasn’t looking at him. John’s leg appeared to need a good rub right at this very moment.

John was wincing.

But with that explained, Scott had no choice but to turn back to Virgil, who was still standing clinging to his crutches.

Why hadn’t he sat down? He was ever so very sorry looking and Scott’s heart melted at the edges.

“Virgil, what happened?”

Brown eyes slowly peered up at him.

God, did he really have to deploy that little brother expression. Thunderbird One was down for the count, stuck in the damned pool and the brother responsible wasn’t even letting him stay angry. Goddamnit! How does a thirty-year-old man regress to six-year-old like that? Those eyes were the same eyes Virgil deployed that time he crashed Scott’s bicycle.

As if in answer, something whacked Scott’s thigh.

Ow! “What the hell?”

Looking down he found an extremely large seagull with a bandaged wing glaring up at him. Their eyes met and it squawked.

Very loudly.

“Hubert! What are you doing down here?” And suddenly, there was a race on around the comms room, Gordon chasing the waddling bird as it methodically thumped everyone with its wings, took out a pot plant and to Scott’s horror, one of Dad’s souvenirs. Both toppled with a crash as Gordon continued to chase Hubert around the room.

Alan joined him a moment later.

Part of Scott wanted to yell the building down, but most of him just wanted to know how the hell his ‘bird had ended up stuck halfway into her launch bay.

So, he turned back to Virgil and asked again, perhaps a little louder over the ruckus as the stupid bird scrambled over John in its eagerness to torture everyone.

He approached his brother carefully and placed a hand on each arm. “Virg, What happened?”

“It was an accident. I’m sorry, Scott.”

“That much is obvious. What malfunctioned?”

Brown eyes were suddenly not looking at him.

“Virgil?”

His brother straightened a little. “You have too many damned levers.”

“What?”

He seemed to be saying that a lot today.

“I pushed the wrong lever, okay? It’s on the left on Two and One has it on the right and I yanked on it to slow and the wings deployed. Wrong lever, sorry, okay?”

Scott stared at Virgil, his jaw slowly dropping as his hands lost their grip on his brother and just hovered mid-air beside him. “You used the wrong lever?”

“Yeah, sorry, my bad.” Virgil was looking at his feet. “Can I sit down now?”

Scott’s mouth was still open and he had to force himself to close it. “Sure.” So his voice was a little bit higher than normal…

Virgil didn’t hesitate, clutching his crutches and hurriedly tapping his way over to the lounge.

Behind Scott there was a sudden crash and the sound of breaking glass as both Alan and a bird squawked at the same time.

Scott didn’t turn to look. He just stood staring at his ‘bird, still gleaming in the late afternoon sun, still sticking out of the pool.

His jaw may have dropped just a little again.

But nothing more was said.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy #Grandma Tracy #Sally Tracy #flyboytracy's fault

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seongsangsgf · 4 years

Text

Ateez Reaction: Making out during a heated argument

tags/warning:suggestive, implied smut, arguments, slight angst, some reactions may be longer than others A/N:requested by @mypsh. This is so poorly written so I’m sorry if it didn’t turn out good 😭 my first reaction request. Credits to the owners of the gifs used here

Hongjoong

Hongjoong promised you that he’d be back by 10 so that he can spend some time with you for your anniversary. He was at the studio making another song for his group. It was already past 10: no sign of your boyfriend.

Now you already grew impatient, feeling like the plans for your anniversary were already falling through. You thought it’d be better to go to sleep since it was getting late. Just when you were about to sleep for the night, the door opened to reveal Hongjoong. When he saw everything that you prepared, he was heart broken.

He tried to explain why he was late but soon it led to the both of you arguing over how he almost forgot that it was your anniversary tonight as how he should’ve stayed home. That was until he saw the robe that you were wearing.

“M-May I?” He asked shyly, curious as to what you were wearing under that robe.

“Go ahead.”

When he was given the signal, he removed the robe, only to reveal lingerie that you bought just for him.

“Oh fuck…” he mumbled under his breath.

“What are you waiting for Joongie? Take me.”

“Will do.” And with that he crashed his lips onto you.

You both were in for a long night.

Seonghwa

The two of you were arguing about where to go out for your date. You wanted to go to a park while Seonghwa wanted to go to some fancy restaurant. He thought that it was more peaceful rather than going to a place where it was crowded.

You reminded me of the last time where the both of you attended a restaurant, he teased you under the table making you feel turned on. You had to admit though you did somewhat enjoyed his little games but at the same time felt a little humiliated. By then you decided to tease him yourself as payback by rubbing his crotch. He let out a low groan at the feeling of your hands stimulating him.

“What was that for?”

“I thought that I can play your ‘little game’ too. Two can play the game right?” You smirked at him.

He pinned you to the couch, making sure that you didn’t land too roughly, leaving some kisses on your neck.

“You just don’t know what you do to me baby.”

The date may have been canceled but at least something better than going to a restaurant or a park was yet to come.

Yunho

Yunho was having rough day at his job. He was caught in traffic earlier in the morning, missed the meeting because of it, accidentally spilling some coffee into one of his co-workers, which didn’t ended much well, and had to make 50 extra copies of papers.

When he came home you tried to help him out but he said that it was fine. You thought the opposite though. You told him that it’d be better if he were to talk about his day so that he would at least be over it, but he was still pushing you away as usual, leading the both of you to argue. You suddenly latched your lips onto him and eventually he gave into the kiss.

“I know you want me to help you out Yunho, I can see it in your eyes babyboy” you whispered seductively in his ear.

He nodded before letting you ‘take care of him’ for the rest of the night. By the time you two were done, he thought that you were the best stress reliever.

Yeosang

Ever since you gave Yeosang a PS5 as a Christmas gift, he had been glued to the gaming console more than ever. He’d often join group chats with his friends on there.

Eventually the two of you were becoming more distant from each other. You had to sleep on your own in your shared bedroom while Yeosang would end up sleeping on the couch in the living room due to the fact that he ended up oversleeping on there.

The two of you never spent time with each other since then. You grew tired of him ignoring you. You actually ended up unplugging the TV just when he was about to win his game of Call of Duty.

Yeosang was pissed to say the least and ended up telling you to stay away from him whenever he was playing his games. You counter-attacked his statement by saying that he hardly ever spoke to you.

When those words came out of your mouth he felt his heart shatter before patting his lap for you to sit on. He apologized for not being able spend more time with you and promised that he’ll pay more attention to you from now on.

“I forgive you Yeosangie.” You smiled at him before giving him a soft kiss.

If Yeosang had to be honest. He missed you and the way you were always affectionate to him. He carried you in bridal style to your bedroom, making sure to make up for lost time by treating you like a princess.

“Say, how about you wear that lingerie that I got you for Christmas?”

You two were both excited for this night to unfold.

San

It was San’s birthday and you were baking his cake when he ran into the kitchen and gave you a few kisses, being his usual energetic self.

San wanted to help you with the cake, saying that it wouldn’t be fair for you to just do the work all by yourself, to which you agreed. Baking a cake with your boyfriend wasn’t gonna do any harm right?

Well in the end the kitchen was a mess. Of course you couldn’t blame San for being all happy and excited during his birthday, but you wish he was a little more organized because you both did ended up in a dispute about how he shouldn’t be throwing flour at you.

The poor boy was sad. He didn’t want to make you upset and he just wanted to have some fun with you, but he didn’t think that he’d actually make you feel disappointed.

You gave San a hug and a kiss, letting him know that it was an accident and that he didn’t had the intention to make a mess in the kitchen.

San returned to his happy self until he saw some frosting on your half-exposed chest. He was tempted to have you as his birthday dessert rather than a cake, to which you insisted.

“Why have a cake when I can have you?”

God was San in for a treat.

Mingi

(this one is a little similar to HJ’s reaction) You were beginning to grow worried about where Mingi was, despite the fact that he told you that he’d stay at the studio with Hongjoong a little late. You were getting worried because the area that surrounded where the two of you live was dark.

There was a time where he almost got into a confrontation with someone in the ally and since then you became more concerned about Mingi’s safety.

When he got home the two of you went back and forth about him going home at a later time walking in the dark by himself. He thought that you were being too overprotective, reassuring you that he was strong and that he could handle it himself.

But soon he came to realize that you cared about him just like how he did. Mingi promised you that he’ll be more careful from now on.

Mingi noticed that you were still a little tensed so he decided that a little ‘make out session’ would clear your mind off of everything.

“Maybe I should make all of your fears disappear for tonight.”

Soon that make out session would lead to something else.

Wooyoung

You and Wooyoung were getting prepared for a ballroom dance competition. You both decided that it would be a sensual tango routine and there was 2 months left to prepare.

Now the dance wasn’t so easy to begin with. There was a lot of turns and lifts that had to be done for the dance to turn out good. There was a a part in the dance where Wooyoung is supposed lift you up do a 360 degree spin.

While Wooyoung tried to do his spin he almost spinned too fast to the point where he almost let go of you. Luckily you didn’t fell and he kept a steady grip so that you were safe, but of course you had to remind him that he had be more careful, only for the two of you to debate about who should’ve payed more attention and what not.

The both of you decided that it’d be better to take a break and come back to the routine later.

Luckily the argument ended when the two of you started your break and you were both back to getting along with each other, making sure to drink some water and eat some snacks.

During the break you’d thought that it be a good idea to try on the dress that you made for the day of the competition. It was a sequenced dress that had a slit cut on the right and a trail on the back. The color also matched Wooyoung’s oufit for the day of the competition.

When you came back with the dress on, Wooyoung was at a lost for words. E thought that you were looked very pretty.

He approached you in the middle of the room, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You gave into him but eventually you were the one controlling the kiss.

“Oh Wooyoungie, I think you forgot who’s in charge, do you?”

And from there on, you both would have to come back to the dance some other time.

Jongho

You and Jongho both decided to watch a movie in the living room. The popcorn and blankets were ready. Now you both just needed to choose a movie that you want to watch.

Now here’s the thing: you both didn’t know whether to watch Titanic or Fast and Furious. Both of you would claim that one was too exaggerating while the other one was too graphic. But in the end both of you tried to find for another movie until the both of you decided to watch 50 Shades of Gray.

There was a steamy scene during the movie which caused your mind to think about recreating the scene with your boyfriend.

You were too lost in your mind that you actually ended up leaving some kisses on Jongho’s neck. Jongho would give you some kisses as well and eventually the two of you ended up making out on the couch.

“Movies were never really our thing right?”

In the end the both of you continued your session while the movie was playing in the background, rather doing the actual thing than seeing it on a screen.

#ateez #ateez suggestive #ateez smut #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader

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camthesolemnone · 3 years

Note

Hi, I have like, 4 more ideas that came to me while I was at work, so #1: horror movie. Medic and Heacy are in their cottage, and have just watched a horror movie of some kind before they go to bed, right? Yeah. BUT! As they get ready, something odd happens that sets them both on edge (turns out it's just one of the birds or something) but they end up scarred and not wanting to go to sleep

I changed this one a bit but the main idea remains in-tact. I’m sorry that this took so long to get out and that the ending is kinda shitty. I’m working on the other prompts you sent me alongside this one! Also, I don’t know if you saw the pinned message or not but requests are now closed, so please hold off on sending any more.

"Is leetle Scout asleep as well?" Heavy asked, sitting comfortably on the rec room couch.

Medic nodded and reached for the VHS tape sitting on the glass table in the middle of the room. A tiny smile graced the Russian's features.

"Is good, we have television all to our selves!"

"Ja, and don't expect to sleep tonight, Mikhail! Herr Engineer told me that this is one of the scariest movies he’s ever seen," Ludwig replied, holding up the tape for his partner to see.

Written across the label in black sharpie was the simple word, 'Halloween.' The label should have been difficult to read in the dark, but the Russian noticed how it almost seemed to radiate a burgundy light...must have been some crazy glow-in-the-dark marker Engineer had invented, he concluded. Heavy crossed his arms triumphantly and laughed.

"Do not count on it, Doktor! Heavy is not phased by baby horror films!”

“Oh, we’ll see about that!”

A moment of time was spent struggling to find out which remote went to which device, but eventually, the pair got the movie inside the VHS player and smiled excitedly as color flooded the screen. Ludwig left the room briefly to make popcorn and plopped down on the couch next to his lover to click “Play” on the title screen upon his return.

“If Doktor gets scared, you can hold onto me~” Mikhail teased, and Ludwig shoved his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re 45 years old, liebe? Because right now, you sound like a lovestruck teenager!” The doctor shot, handing him the popcorn bowl.

“Well...” Heavy began, settling a massive arm around Medic’s shoulders, “One part of that statement is correct.”

Unsurprisingly, Heavy was correct about being immune to the movie’s horrors. Then again, Medic was also not affected by the film, so they took more pleasure in the plot and the acting then the actual scary moments.

Of course, Ludwig grew giddy when gore was involved.

“Hohoho! Look at all of that blood! If I was the killer in this scenario, I would collect it for future use,” he commented.

Heavy raised a questioning eyebrow and attempted to distract himself with the popcorn, but he soon came to the realization that there was nothing left but kernels. His German companion took to removing the bucket from his grasp and standing up.

“I need to use the bathroom, so I’ll take this back on the way,” the doctor stated, and the heavy weapons specialist nodded in response.

Mikhail was left all alone with the intensifying film in the dimly lit room. He would never admit it, but now that Ludwig was gone, he felt smaller. It wasn’t a feeling of fear but of slight unease; things would likely be alright for Heavy, but there was always a shred of uncertainty.

As time passed and the movie reached its climax, Heavy became more and more enthralled with the action, to the point where he forgot about Medic’s absence. His eyes were fixated on the glowing screen, his hands gripped tightly at the wool blanket surrounding him. Mikhail fell deep into the world of gruesome fantasy, and as a consequence, he nearly shot out of his seat at the sound of rapid footsteps and whisper-shouting coming from down the hall.

“Heavy! Oi, big guy!” Demoman said, urgency in his tone.

The Russian let his blanket drop to the floor and stared at the demolitions expert with confusion and anxiousness. The Scot all but captured his arm with both of his own and began dragging him down the hall as best as he could.

“Slow down, Tavish. What is this about?” Mikhail asked.

Demo turned his gaze back to his teammate.

“The Doc ‘s dead in the cludgie!”

Heavy’s eyes widened with shock, emotional pain, and fury towards whoever had committed such an act. Sure, Medic would respawn, but whoever had laid a finger on his beloved doctor was in for a beatdown. Unless it was an accident, in which case Mikhail would scold the German about being reckless.

The pair burst through the door to the community showers and the Russian nearly gasped at the sight. Ludwig laid unmoving in the center of the room with blood staining the front of his lab coat and the ground surrounding him. There was no weapon to be found, but in the corner of the room, with his back towards the door, sat a curled up, trembling, mumbling Scout.

Mikhail’s first thought was that Jeremy had committed this grisly murder, but Tavish put a hand out in front of his chest before he could progress. The Russian opted for whispering Medic’s name as a substitute.

“Scout! What the hell happened here!” Demo cried.

The young runner didn’t reply. He continued to rock back and forth, murmuring and wrapping his arms around himself. The Scot approached him cautiously, taking a calm, more concerned approach. Heavy followed.

“Aye, are you alright, mate?”

Demo reached out to put a hand on Scout’s shoulder, and a series of rapid events unfolded.

Scout’s entire body whipped around and stood up, and the Bostonian let out a high pitched, almost demonic screech. In his left hand was a knife stained in blood, Medic’s blood, and Heavy and Demo exhibited two very different reactions.

Demoman yelped and jumped back, going into flight mode. The massive Russian on the other hand, fearful for the lives of himself and his friend, took a strong step forward and lashed out at Jeremy’s face. One square punch to the jaw was enough to send the man flying across the communal bathroom and into the wall. He slumped over after the hit, out cold.

“What in the-! It was almost like that boy was possessed!” Demo shouted.

When Mikhail and Tavish’s hurried breathing finally began to slow, a new sound rang throughout the room: laughter.

Medic was rolling on the floor alive and well, laughing his ass off and further soiling his labcoat. Heavy gasped out a “Doktor!” at the man’s sudden revival while Demoman stood frozen.

“Hahaha! I can’t believe it! I just thought I’d have a bit of fun scaring you, liebe, but watching you knock out Scout was far more amusing!” The doctor exclaimed, rolling on his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows like a teenage girl lying on her bed while talking to a friend over the phone.

Demoman was the first to flare up.

“What?! So you’re saying this was all a prank?! You’re sick in the head, Medic!”

The Scot was tempted to slap him silly, but with Heavy in the room, that clearly wasn’t an option. With another frustrated grunt, he stomped off and back to bed.

Now it was Heavy’s turn.

“That was not funny, Ludwig! Heavy thought you were dead!” He scowled.

The doctor hauled himself off the ground and stood up straight, wiping some of the fake(?) blood on his hands off onto his lab coat.

“What’s there to worry about? Even if I had been stabbed, I would have just respawned, Mikhail.”

“I know, but...”

Medic’s expression dropped. His love had one massive paw gripping his opposite forearm and his face was distraught. He looked smaller, scared almost, and a tiny crack situated itself in the German’s heart. If he had known such an act would hurt Heavy so deeply, he wouldn’t have even thought about going through with it. There was also the issue of Scout. Ludwig relished the sight of the cocky, annoying Boston boy being beat up, but for once, he regretted roping him into his plans. The runner had been all too willing to help him with the scare, and Medic repaid him with his bear’s violence.

He sighed and shook his head at himself internally. Yes, his prank hadn’t been very rational, he concluded.

With slow, apologetic steps, Medic approached his partner and wrapped his arms around him gently, rubbing his broad back with one hand.

“Es tut mir leid, Heavy. This was all very foolish of me,” he admitted.

Heavy returned the embrace and buried his nose into his doctor’s hair, which smelled of blood and autumn leaves.

“You know it is because I do not like seeing you hurt, moya lyubov. Every time evil Spy kills you on battlefield, my blood boils. Would sacrifice myself a million times to keep you safe,” he murmured, and Ludwig’s heart cracked a little more.

His arms tightened around the giant with increased guilt. It pained him profoundly to see Mikhail die too.

“I love you, Heavy. From the bottom of my soul, I am truly sorry.”

The Russian moved one hand from the smaller man’s waist to cup his cheek protectively.

“I love you too, Doktor, but please, do not play with death. Someday, we will not get another life.”

The credits of the movie had long concluded by the time the two of them returned to the rec room. Medic was rather disappointed that he had missed the latter half of the film, but what made up for it was a soft kiss to his forehead and a set of teasing words given to him by his lover before being sent off to sleep.

“Next time, we watch psychological thriller, da? Less gore will give you less dangerous ideas,” Mikhail suggested, patting a hand on Ludwig’s shoulder.

The doctor laughed and gave him a sly smile that warded off his fears, allowed him to breathe normally again. He was still alive.

“I like the sound of that, but you’re making the popcorn!”

#tf2 #heavymedic #horror films #fanfiction

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ellewritesathing · 4 years

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Infernal VIII

Summary: In your sleepy little town of Greendale, nothing ever slept for long. And ever since October, everything felt like it was waking up. Everything except for you, that is. One teensy trip to Hell (and an infuriatingly cute guy) later and suddenly you felt wide awake.

Word-count: 3.4k+

Masterlist Prev. | Part 8

Ever since you were eleven years old, you’d been going to the Paramount once a week with Theo to share a large popcorn with m&ms poured over the top, two large sodas, and the biggest bag of Sour Patch Kids that money from dog walking, tutoring, and scrounging between the couch cushions could buy. The dark was a blanket of safety and anonymity for an hour or two, and you loved it more than anything. It was two hours of you, Theo, and whatever rerun was showing that weekend. One of only two movie theatres in Greendale, The Paramount stood as a testament to friendship and the enduring power of bad cinema.

Sharing the Paramount and all its memories with Caliban was nerve-wracking.

If he noticed your non-stop fidgeting, he didn’t say anything. He was perfectly composed as he watched stressed out parents corral their screaming children - shoulders relaxed, mouth upturned, and hand easily laced through yours.

“You know, I never cared much for children,” he said. He suppressed a laugh when one of the kids threw pieces of popcorn at their dad. “But I’m starting to think they may not be such loathsome little creatures after all. Given a little direction, they could surpass any of Hell’s torturers.”

You would have laughed at his joke if you’d been listening, but you were too busy watching the specials board light up his face red, orange, and yellow that caught on the edges of his hair. “Is this your first date?” you asked.

Caliban raised an eyebrow as he turned to you and you stammered out an explanation. Impulse control had never been one of your strong suits, and it had been on the decline lately. Putting you out of your misery with a sly smile, he said, “Yes.”

“Wait-” you tugged on his hand slightly as the two of you moved forward in the line “-does that mean I’m your first kiss?”

Caliban laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “My first kiss was with a succubus.”

You weren’t sure what kind of answer you were expecting, but that particular one caught you off guard. “Oh. That’s pretty cool. Do you guys keep in touch?”

“Are you in touch with your first kiss?” Caliban asked, throwing another smile at you as the two of you walked over the counter. He let you order and pay in peace, but he asked again when you were flavoring the popcorn, clearly amused by your awkwardness.

You were in the middle of explaining that your first kiss had been on a dare at one of the worst, least supervised birthday parties you’d ever been to when someone bumped into and spilled your popcorn all over the floor. They kept walking.

They only cleared a few feet before the Darkness lashed out and you yelled at them. “Hey! Are you going to apologize?”

You recognized them once they turned around. He was one of the kids from the lacrosse team who’d bullied Theo back in freshman year. With possibly the fakest smile you’d seen, Charlie said, “Chill. It was an accident.”

“Apologize.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Say you’re sorry.”

His body relaxed and his eyes took on a familiar glassy, hollow quality as he mumbled an apology. You smiled.

“Good.” You took a step forward to close the distance between you. “Now give me your wallet.” He did so without a word, the charm overwhelming any reservations he may have had. He faltered slightly when you took out most of the cash, but you told him to be quiet. With a smile, you handed his wallet back to him. “Enjoy your movie.”

Charlie blinked twice, slowly, but then he nodded. “You too,” he said uncertainly. He stumbled down the hall and looked at you again as he rounded a corner, completely dumbstruck.

You waved at him, turning back to Caliban with a smile. “Ready to watch the movie?”

The easiness from earlier was gone; Caliban’s jaw was tense and his eyes were narrowed. He didn’t move from where he leaned against the wall. “What was that?”

You shrugged. “I wanted him to apologize.”

“Are you sure that’s all you wanted?” he asked, pushing himself off the wall. His movements were easy, but his words were strained.

“Yes,” you lied, unclenching your fists. When you stole a glance at your palms, they were coated in a thin layer of darkness, smudged around the area where you’d dug your nails in to keep from knocking the false smile off Charlie’s face.

---

“Wait, so you’re like … Hannah Montana if she was a teenage witch and he’s like- what is he? Your Jesse?”

Out of all the reactions you’d imagined after telling your friends that the mother you’d spent your whole life looking for turned out to be a literal demon, a Hannah Montana comparison hadn’t even made the top ten.

“Harvey, don’t you think you’re being a little-”

To be fair, they’d handled the news about Lilith better than expected. Harvey was confused, Theo was happy you found your mom even if she’d tried to kill them all before, Sabrina helped smooth things over, and Roz admitted to having her suspicions for a while.

“What? I’m just trying to understand why the guy that tried to rule Hell and enslave us all is sitting on my couch.”

It was only when things came to Caliban that their understanding faltered. Even Sabrina, trying her best, didn't quite understand.

“I’m sitting on your couch because I was invited, Huckleberry Finn.”

After defeating the Darkness and unbinding your powers, you’d gone to Sabrina’s with a tub of ice cream and explained everything. A weight that had been slowly crushing you was lifted off your chest that night, but it came back in full force with every angry word from Harvey. It wasn’t like you’d expected him to understand, but you’d hoped he would at least try.

“Okay!” Standing up, you let out a weighty breath and held out your hands to stop them from speaking. “Will you two stop antagonizing one another for five minutes?”

Reluctantly, Caliban nodded as Harvey collapsed back in his chair and grumbled, “Fine, but I still don’t like him.”

“You don’t have to like him. You just have to respect that I like him,” you said. Harvey didn’t seem convinced, so you sighed and tried to come up with a new strategy. Finally, you stopped pacing and turned to Harvey. “Do you know what it’s like to feel like a piece of you is missing?” To Roz, “Like there’s something wrong with you because you just don’t fit in with everyone else?” To Theo, “And then you figure out what it is and you can’t tell anyone because you don’t think they’d care about you anymore if they found out?” You wiped your face haphazardly and stared at the Smashing Pumpkins poster peeling off the back wall. “It fucking sucks.”

“And I’m sorry you had to go through all that,” Harvey said, standing up and blocking your view of the poster. “I am. But you can’t expect me to be okay after finding out that you spent the last three months lying to everyone and dating that asshole.”

“I didn’t want to lie to you!” You felt the Darkness rising in your throat and did your best to push it down. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you looked back at Harvey and tried not to cry. “Is it so hard to believe that I was scared to tell you, or did you forget when you cut Sabrina out of your life when she told you?”

Harvey frowned. His hand twitched at his side as he glanced at Sabrina. “That’s not the same thing.”

“Yeah, I know, because she was the most important person in your life and I’m just the kid that lives next door.” Your voice broke and Harvey stepped forward to give you a hug. The Darkness lurched at the movement and you stepped back to keep it from hurting him. Taking another step back, you started gathering your stuff. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Hey, just hold on a second, okay?” Harvey tried to grab your wrist to stop you, and you couldn’t stop the Darkness from lashing out this time.

“Don’t touch me.”

Harvey frowned, his hand outstretched and frozen, and a familiar, glassy film cloud covered his eyes. The air was sucked out of the room as Harvey blinked and tried to recover. His hand still hung in the air. Your heart broke.

“I need to go,” you rushed out, scrambling for the door. You didn’t care about the stuff you dropped or the fact that Caliban was sitting on the couch the last you saw - all you cared about was getting out before you did anything worse. Still, you froze in the doorway. Over your shoulder, you mustered up all your courage and said, “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t sure if any of your friends heard you over their concern for Harvey or if they just didn’t want to respond, but at least Caliban caught up to you in the silence. He didn’t reach out for you for the rest of the night, all he did was stare at you with stormy, unfathomable eyes.

---

Hilda Spellman was the closest thing you’d ever had to a mother; she was warm and inviting, and always made your favorite cupcakes if you were having a bad day. She made sure that your dad always had something on the table for dinner. She took you shopping every year before school started. She let you stay in their house for almost a month when you were convinced that your bedroom was haunted. Hilda Spellman deserved nothing but happiness.

So why couldn’t you suck it up for one day and give her the perfect wedding that she deserved?

Because, despite your best efforts, you were still upset at how things had unfolded with your friends. While Theo and Roz forgave you for lying and accepted you for being a witch, they weren’t sure they could give Caliban a chance after he lashed out at Harvey. Talking to Harvey might have solved that problem, but he was pretty much set on avoiding you. You didn't blame him after what you did to him, even if he didn't know what exactly it was you did to him.

All this drama might not have been an issue otherwise, but they were the only people you knew at this wedding. So far, the only other people to show up were witches that were preoccupied with either the Uninvited or the incubus on the loose.

When you noticed Nick had disappeared from door duty, you finished your drink and set the glass down. Sliding in next to Sabrina, you bumped her arm with your elbow and held your hand out for some of the programs. “Need a hand?”

“Not really, but I’ll take the company,” she said with a smile. She handed you a stack of creamy pink programs and laughed wistfully. “Nick was supposed to help me with this but he’d rather get busy with Prudence in the coat closet.”

You tried not to laugh as you handed a program to a very solemn-looking witch. “Yeah, well, at least he’s talking to you,” you said, watching the witch disappear into the steadily growing crowd.

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “Harvey will come around,” she said, pausing to smile as she handed out another program. “He’s just scared of losing you in all this.”

“You know, Caliban actually said something similar after we left the other night.” This time, you didn’t bother hiding your laughter. Sabrina didn’t bat an eye at taking on an eldritch terror, but the possibility of Caliban having a valid point seemed to shake her to her core. “He said that I shouldn’t be so hard on Harvey because all he wants is to keep me safe, but this is the one thing that he can’t protect me from. The magic and … getting my heart broken.”

Sabrina tried to reign in her surprise, but she still seemed stunned as she handed out another program. “That … actually makes sense.”

“Weird, right?” You stole a look at the line forming outside the church and your heart ached when you saw your friends lugging their band equipment through the parking lot. It was going to be a long night.

Sabrina followed your gaze and sighed. “So ... where is Caliban? You RSVPed that you were bringing a plus-one but I don’t see him anywhere.”

You tore your eyes away from the band to hand out another program. Shaking your head, you said, “I was going to bring him, but then I figured that this was Hilda’s special day and she didn't need a fistfight between her lead singer and a plus one.”

“Well, I think you should bring him,” Sabrina said. “What? Just because I’m going to be sad and alone the whole night doesn’t mean you have to.”

So, after a quick check with Hilda, you invited Caliban. He agreed to come, if you promised to talk to him about your lesser angels creeping in.

You could feel Harvey staring at the back of your head throughout the whole ceremony, but Theo sat next to you and Robin said he’d save you guys a seat at the reception. Things were starting to look up, even if they were a little weird.

As awkward as the ceremony had been, the reception was great. Caliban was as charming as ever, winning over Theo and Robin and making witches swoon left and right. Despite all your time together, you’d never seen him this comfortable around others. A room without demons or humans, it seemed, was where you found common ground.

Until Sabrina’s toast.

She lost credibility before she even opened her mouth by stumbling up the stage steps. Opening with a joke, she had a solid two and a half seconds before she started drawing attention to every couple in the nearby vicinity - starting with Harvey and Roz, glossing over Theo and Robin to mention you and Caliban, and eventually landing on Nick and Prudence. Sabrina tried to save the toast by circling back to Hilda, but it was too late. She crashed into the drums, said she’d be single for a century and a half, and was dragged off-stage by Zelda while the Fright Club scrambled to perform their set.

Amidst the chaos, Caliban ducked his head closer to yours and brought his drink to his lips. “You know,” he said, pausing to take a sip, “If you’d told me how much fun these gatherings were, I would have come with you a long time ago.”

Rolling your eyes, you took his drink and shifted in your seat so you could lean against him. “Does that mean I can sign you up for the book club?”

“That depends. What are we reading?” Caliban asked. He looked away from the stage to meet your eyes.

“The Feminine Mystique.”

“Oh, okay.”

Laughing, you tilted your head up to kiss his jaw. Settling back into your seat and intertwining your hands, you said, “Well, if it counts for anything, I’m glad you’re here now.”

If you thought the worst part of the night was Sabrina’s toast, you were totally and completely unprepared for the incubus attack. It jumped from Theo to Harvey to Melvin before landing in the Uninvited. Their eyes were wild for a moment, but then the Uninvited shuddered as their eyes returned to a deep, empty brown. They’d eaten the incubus, and moments later they bit into Dorian’s heart like an apple.

There was something unbearably sad about the Uninvited, and the Darkness within you ached to fix them. It didn’t matter that they toasted to the end of all things, all that mattered was that they were alone. You started reaching out for them when Caliban took his hand in yours and pulled you closer to him.

“I am the Herald of the Void. I feast on the hearts of those that reject me. And someone here turned me away, therefore, death to you all.” The Uninvited smiled and downed whatever had been in their glass.

Tipping your glass towards the Uninvited, you drank to their toast as Hilda apologized for turning them away. She tried to invite them, but the Uninvited said it was too late. They’d already been turned away.

Nick stepped forward as the one that had turned the Uninvited away to sacrifice himself, but Sabrina tugged him back by the edge of his sleeve. Prudence was one step behind, holding Nick close to her chest as Sabrina offered the Uninvited a heart of sorts. She explained that she’s been wandering a cosmos of her own lately, feeling hopelessly alone, and just wanting to belong somewhere with someone. If they got married, the Uninvited would have her heart and a place to belong, always. Forevermore, they’d be the Invited.

The Darkness grew unruly as the Uninvited considered her proposal, and for a moment you thought they’d do as the Darkness wanted and rip Sabrina’s heart from her ribcage. Instead, all they did was nod.

---

Cold bit at your fingertips as you sat, knees pulled up to your chest, on the wall outside the desecrated church, but the stolen Mother’s Ruin kept your stomach warm. The sun had disappeared somewhere between the fake wedding and trapping the Uninvited in Sabrina’s old dollhouse, October chill coming in with the night sky, but you welcomed the change. Indifferent sunshine to apathetic stars.

Pouring out a bit of gin on the dead flowers below, you said a silent prayer for the Uninvited. Not for forgiveness, but maybe understanding. Hoping it would make the Darkness subside.

The crunching of dried grass underfoot interrupted your thoughts.

“This seat taken?”

You shrugged but moved over all the same to make space for Harvey. He threw a lanky leg over the side of the wall as he let out a deep breath. When he was settled, you offered him some of the Mother’s Ruin but he shook his head.

“No, uh, I’m good. Thanks though.” Harvey drummed uncertainly on the sides of the wall, watching carefully as you drank his rejected share of the gin. “So I was thinking about something the Uninvited said back there - about wandering around all alone until the terrors welcomed them to their club?”

Raising an eyebrow, you asked, “Are you about to call my boyfriend a terror?”

Harvey laughed, a deep, unsure sound, and looked down at the wall again. “Well, he is, but no.” He sighed and tried to get back to his point. “Look, I know I’m not the best at handling change. When Sabrina … I don’t know. It just- it kills me that you felt like you felt so alone and didn’t think you could talk to me.”

“Harvey-”

“Wait, let me finish.” Harvey took another deep breath. His nose was red, either from the cold or because he was holding back tears. “I never ever wanted to be the reason why you got hurt. But I was, and I’m sorry that I made you feel like that.”

You slid your hand over his. “Thank you,” you said quietly.

“I’m still not done.”

“Of course, you’re not.”

Harvey choked out another laugh and smiled. “Don’t tell Theo but you’re my best friend. And if Caliban makes you happy then … I kinda owe it to you to give him a shot.”

“So you’ll stop antagonizing him?” you asked, sitting up a bit straighter and pointing the bottle of gin at Harvey’s chest.

“Well, I never said that,” Harvey said dramatically. He laughed and pulled his other leg over the wall, taking the bottle from you and pulling a face after he tasted it. “Okay, what stars are we looking at tonight?”

You threw your legs over the side and let out a deep breath as you leaned against Harvey’s arm. “Fuck if I know. Tommy was the one who remembered all that stuff.”

“You just wanna make some up?” Harvey asked. He put his arm around your shoulder and handed the bottle back to you.

Hugging the bottle to your chest to keep the Darkness warm as it slept, you looked up to the sky and pointed to a cluster of stars. “That one’s you because it’s ugly.”

Tagged: @caliban-is-my-girl @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e @music-movies @miss--moose @marrypuffsstuff @harryscarolinaa @igorsbby @foji2000 @hxlalokidottir @artaxerxesthegreat @thxmagic @luquincy @strawberriesandknives @xealia @hotmessindisguise @acciomaximoff @reheated-coffee @olivia-west-allen @shelby-x @perseny-blog @millie-753 @luneerius @shizzybarnaclee @lettherebelovex @drrramaaaqweeen @throughparisallthroughrome @ietss @thebookwormlife @mechanicalanimalz @mariamermaid @nqbmf @roxytheimmortal @shephard17895 @andie-kathleen @clockworks-world-to-fandoms @blondeeee-e @piensa-bonito @supportstudies @bookishaficionado @perfectlysane24

#Infernal #caos #caos rewrite #chilling adventures of sabrina #Caliban #caliban x reader #caliban imagine

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ibelongtowrath · 4 years

Text

Three’s Company - Obey Me! Lucifer x Satan x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: When Lucifer and Satan accidentally switch bodies, they decide to stay in your room. A little unhealthy competition leads to the demons battling over who can fuck you better while they occupy the other demon's body...who's going to win? Rating: Explicit! 18+ NSFW Relationship: Lucifer x Reader, Satan x Reader, Lucifer x Satan x Reader Tags: threesome, oral sex, face-sitting, rough sex, vaginal sex, choking, spanking, hair pulling, vaginal fingering, rimming, fluff and smut, shameless smut, dialogue heavy Word Count: 6,919

PLEASE READ: Lucifer and Satan have switched bodies. After the jump when they're all at dinner and everything after that point, when Lucifer speaks/does something, he is doing so from inside of Satan's body, and vice versa.

I originally was going to label them as Satan (Lucifer) and Lucifer (Satan), but a friend brought up a good point: regardless of which body they currently possess, Lucifer is Lucifer and Satan is Satan. Therefore, I kept their names associated to whatever action/dialogue they're doing.

I tried to sprinkle reminders throughout via physical descriptions and some of the dialogue. I hope it's not too confusing!

Special shout out to @pridecomesbeforethefall and @shirothequeen for encouraging me when I first posted the idea to write this in the Obey Me! tags. I hope you enjoy!

An hour earlier…

“No, I’m not going to make a pact with you,” you declare firmly, eyes holding steady in Satan’s skewering gaze. The tension visibly escalates, and books are starting to hover in the air, like weapons aiming to strike.

“Excuse me?” thunders Satan, fury etched in his voice. “You’re just a lowly human. How dare you reject me when I offer to make a pact with you? I’ll hurt you-”

“That’s enough, Satan.” Lucifer’s voice booms from behind you. “You will do no harm to Diavolo’s exchange student.”

The hostility escalates even further with Lucifer’s arrival. Books are now flying across the room. You duck, barely avoiding getting smacked in the face by a particularly heavy one.

“Stay out of this, Lucifer,” Satan explodes.

“You’re better than this,” Lucifer chides his younger brother, shaking his head. “Don’t give in to your wrath.”

Satan clearly doesn’t like that, as the books begin to fly even faster all around. You cover your head with your arms, but you can’t help except to watch the two brothers in the middle of their explosive altercation.

One book in particular flies past Lucifer, and he studies it with a curious look on his face. Satan notices the book at the same time, and they both reach out to grab it. As they place their hands on its cover simultaneously, a white light suddenly bursts through the room.

You yelp, the force knocking me onto the floor, but thankfully you’re not hurt. You sit up on the heels of your hands, and your jaw drops as you take in what just happened.

About an hour later, in the dining room at dinnertime...

“We’re going to be staying in Y/N’s room for the time being, until the spell wears off,” Lucifer declares, glaring directly at his former body, which is now being possessed by his younger brother Satan.

It was almost laughable, if not for how absurd it was. The two demons who hate each other the most, the avatars of pride and wrath, are currently possessing the other’s body temporarily.

And, thus, we all ended up affected by the situation.

“Why my room?” you ask, incredulous. “Can’t you two share one of your rooms?”

“Absolutely not,” both Satan and Lucifer answer at the same time, shooting daggers at one another.

“We decided we’re forbidden from entering into the other person’s room at all,” Lucifer answers me.

“They can’t stay in my room. If anything happened to my precious figures, I’d be heated!” exclaims Levi. “Although, I wouldn’t mind watching the drama unfold! I’d have my popcorn ready!”

“Beel doesn’t want anybody sleeping in Belphie’s bed, I refuse to stay with Mammon, and as for Asmo...well, I’d rather not know what he does in that room,” Lucifer continues. Asmo only laughs at that, not denying anything. “So, therefore, your room is the only option, Y/N.”

“Wait, what?!” Mammon exclaims. “Only I should be allowed-”

“This is not up for discussion,” Lucifer interjects. His caustic stare instantly silences Mammon.

Even when he’s in someone else’s body, Lucifer is still terrifying.

Satan glances over in disdain. “That stupid glare and tone of voice don’t suit me at all. Maybe you should loosen up a bit while you’re in my body.”

Lucifer crosses his arms, unamused by Satan’s commentary.

“Let’s leave. We still have much to discuss...now.”

Satan rolls his eyes, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “Fine.”

The dining room settles into a heavy silence, everyone watching as both demons stand from the table and move towards the exit. They begin fighting in the hall, the muted argument unable to conceal the annoyance in their voices.

Once they’re finally out of earshot, Mammon, Beel, Asmo and Levi swing their heads to look at you. Levi begins typing furiously on his phone, no doubt already making a post about it.

“Can we go back to eating now?” Beel asks, already stuffing his face with roasted bat. His voice is muffled by his full mouth.

You stare down at your plate, your food hardly touched. You push it towards Beel, knowing he’ll gladly eat the leftovers. You stand up and push your chair in, everyone’s eyes darting towards you.

“Goodnight, everyone,” you declare, moving towards the exit.

“You’re leavin’ already, Y/N?” Mammon asks, grabbing your arm. “Okay, I’ll walk ya to your room.”

“Wait for me! I’ll come too.” Asmo pushes his chair in and rushes to follow you out of the room.

You square your shoulders, fighting to hide your visible annoyance. It’s been nothing but insane circumstance after circumstance since you’ve been summoned to the Devildom, and you wonder when you’ll ever be able to get a break.

Well, at least it’s not boring, you muse.

You walk through the House of Lamentation towards your bedroom, Asmo and Mammon trailing you and chattering happily. Your cheerful trio - well, let’s be honest, only two of you are actually feeling cheerful - finally reaches the door, and you brace yourself for what you might find inside as you place your hand on the knob, turning it slowly.

The door creaks open and you step inside cautiously, feeling relieved to find everything in its proper place, untouched by Satan’s wrath. The only things inside the room that are certainly out of place are Lucifer and Satan themselves. Satan’s body, currently occupied by Lucifer, sits at your desk, studying a book so intensely, like it’s the most interesting book in the entire Devildom. Lucifer’s body, occupied by Satan, is perched on your bed, glowering at the floor.

You actually can’t help but giggle, unable to control yourself. The absurdity of the situation actually is pretty funny.

Mammon laughs with you, clapping a hand on your arm. “I’ve never seen Lucifer so reserved before...this is freakin’ awesome!” he exclaims, walking towards the desk where Lucifer is sitting.

Asmo sits down next to Satan on the bed, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling.

Lucifer turns around, finally moving his eyes from the book. His fierce stare lands on Mammon, studying him as he moves closer to where he’s sitting.

“I just realized something,” Mammon continues, completely oblivious to the tension in the room. “Since Lucifer’s in Satan’s body and all...you’re not nearly as strong as you are in your own body. I’m the stronger one. How’s that feel? Ha!”

“I understand why Y/N is here, as this is her bedroom,” the Avatar of Pride says cooly, ignoring Mammon, “but why are Mammon and Asmodeus also here?”

“I, uh, well, I...I wanted to make sure Y/N got back to her room safely and everything,” stammers Mammon, blushing.

“Out. Now.”

Mammon holds his hands up, backing away. “Okay, okay. You got it.”

Lucifer follows Asmo and Mammon to the door. Mammon stands in the doorway, casting a quick glance at you before Lucifer shuts it, pointing in your direction.

“Oi! You two better not hurt Y/N, or think that you can get all snuggly with her just cause you’re in her room! If I see you moved one tiny hair on her body I’m gonna-”

Mammon’s voice is cut off by the door slamming loudly in his face, followed by a yelp and a curse.

Lucifer turns around slowly. He crosses the room to where you’re standing on the other side. He places his arm on his chest, bowing his head slightly.

“Y/N, I apologize for the inconvenience. The spell should be reversed within a few days. Rest assured that I am hugely indebted to you, and will pay you back tenfold,” Lucifer tells you. “Satan, as well.”

“You’re the one that got us into this mess,” retorts Satan. “Paying her back is all your responsibility.”

“Maybe, if you were able to properly control yourself and not give in to your wrath -”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have had to unleash my wrath if you didn’t interrupt!”

“Satan, you were-”

For fuck’s sake.

“Okay, I’m going to take a shower and get changed in the bathroom. When I come out, I’d like some peace and quiet,” you declare over the din of their argument.

Neither demon acknowledges you. You roll your eyes, sigh, and retreat into the bathroom, relishing the sound of the shower turning on that drowns out everything else.

You step into the shower, letting the scalding water pour over you. You lather your favorite lavender-scented shampoo into your hair, breathing in the relaxing scent. You know this will be a scarce moment of peace, so you try to enjoy it as long as possible...because as soon as you step back out into the room, you’ll no doubt have to mediate.

Throwing on your comfy t-shirt and sleeping shorts, you dry your hair with a towel. It hangs in loose, dark waves down your back. You put some product in it and, with a heavy sigh, open the bathroom door and step out into the room.

The scene in front of you nearly knocks you onto the floor again. You clap your hand over your mouth and grab the bathroom door frame to hold yourself up, trying to prevent your jaw from falling to the ground.

“Please!” Lucifer laughs, pointing at the younger demon currently possessing his former body. “I am exceptionally better-looking, and more muscular too. Maybe if you put more care into your appearance-”

“You must be on something if you think that way, Luci,” Satan bites back. “Look at me. The succubi love my beautiful blonde hair and green eyes. And my body is just as nice as yours, actually...I’m much more attractive.”

Both demons are half-naked, shirts and jackets discarded onto your floor. The two of them are standing around your room, inspecting each other’s appearance. You can’t help your eyes from dropping down to gaze at the well-defined, taut muscles of their chests and abdomens. Each one sports an impressively long torso and six-pack. Their pants hang dangerously low on their hips, the tantalizing v-lines drawing your eyes lower, lower…

With impeccable timing, the two demons turn towards the bathroom, finally noticing you nearly hyperventilating in the doorway.

“Y/N!” Satan and Lucifer shout at the same time.

“Perfect timing!” muses Lucifer. “You can decide for us.”

“Who’s the more attractive demon? Obviously it’s me...in my usual body, not in Lucifer’s of course,” Satan chimes in.

You remove your hand from your mouth and lean against the doorway, trying to steady your breathing.

Do they really have to ask me that right now?

“U-um, well...I-I...you’re both very attractive,” you stammer.

Your face can’t hide your embarrassment any longer, and suddenly you feel like it’s on fire. You can feel the furious crimson blush blazing across.

Lucifer laughs. “Ha! Surely you would favor one of us over the other. There’s no need to be so kind. Tell us the truth.”

“W-well, it's hard to make an objective decision when you’re both shirtless and assaulting my senses all at the same time.”

“Shall we put our clothes back on then, hm?” Lucifer asks you, raising an eyebrow.

“No!” you exclaim. “I-I mean...you can if you want to…”

“You’re too intimidating, Lucifer,” Satan chimes in, sitting back on the bed. “She clearly thinks it’s me, but is too scared of your reaction if she said so.”

“Right now, I’m mostly thinking about how I’m going to be able to sleep peacefully with two constantly fighting demon brothers who accidentally switched bodies,” you quip, gaining some of your composure back.

Again, neither demon acknowledges you, instead continuing to bicker endlessly. You sigh in defeat, reaching for the water bottle on your desk. You sip the cool liquid and watch the demons continue their ridiculous arguments, exasperated.

“I’ll do you one better, Luci.” Satan spits the nickname, as though it’s a disgusting taste in his mouth. “I can totally outperform you in bed, even in your own body.”

You splutter and cough furiously upon hearing that, choking on the water. The liquid spills out onto your shirt as you struggle. Satan and Lucifer don’t even turn their heads in your direction.

“How naive,” retorts Lucifer, shaking his head. “Lest you forget, I’m the oldest. I have the most experience.”

“You’re too uptight. And your head is so far up Diavolo’s ass, you’ve probably forgotten how to fuck. Unless you do it with-”

“That’s enough,” booms Lucifer. “I can charm anyone I choose. I just have more important things to focus on lately,” he adds, with a pointed look.

“Ha! I’d like to see that,” laughs Satan

Instead of dignifying his brother with a response, Lucifer turns his eyes towards you, studying you carefully. You feel yourself shrink a bit in the burn of his gaze. The intensity is so severe, it feels as though he’s a predator, and you’re the prey he’s ready to ambush.

“Y/N.” He says your name gently, the tender note in his voice bizarrely mismatched with the fire in his eyes.

You swallow, nervous to answer.

“...Yes?”

“Come here.”

You walk over slowly, unsure of what he wants. Satan watches you carefully from his perch on the bed, equally as curious.

You approach Lucifer, standing directly in front of him. He is handsome, equally as handsome as Satan, but their majesty is different.

Whereas Lucifer is more of dominating beauty, with searing red eyes, Satan’s emerald green eyes, flecked with gold and turquoise, shine beautifully. You stare into them, mesmerized. His blonde hair falls messily into his eyes, tempting you to reach up and brush the strands away so you can fall in deeper. It’s easy to forget that Lucifer is actually inside Satan’s body right now.

Suddenly, Lucifer reaches a hand out, lightly touching your face. His hand slowly trails down over your jaw, down the curve of your neck. His velvety touch traces the dainty skin of your collarbone, dancing ever lower, lower...stopping right above your breast. You feel your breath hitch. Goosebumps dart across your skin, betraying your calm demeanor. Your heart flutters in your chest.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Y/N?” Lucifer murmurs, his voice dripping with honey. He moves his hand back up to your face, repeating the gentle strokes over and over again.

You don’t answer. Your mouth feels glued shut, and your feet are anchored to the floor. Giving in to the desire, you feel an insatiable need stirring within. The blood buzzes loudly in your ears, and the room suddenly feels as though it just got ten degrees warmer.

“Okay, I take it back. I guess you are kind of charming,” Satan chuckles. “Then again, you’re in my body, so it’s pretty much effortless.”

His voice slams you back to reality. You suddenly realized that sexy maneuver was just a performance, to prove a point to his brother. You shake your head, completely embarrassed at yourself for being so naive.

But I wanted it...I wanted it so badly.

“Oh? Disappointed, are you? Thinking it’s just for show?” you hear Lucifer coo, placing his hand under your chin. He tilts your head gently, forcing your eyes to meet with the beautiful emerald gaze of his own.

The arousal coursing through your veins nearly leaves you breathless. You can feel your legs shaking a bit, and you steady, trying to compose yourself.

“It doesn’t have to be, darling,” Lucifer continues, leaning in closer. Your heart races, as though he’s behind the wheel and revving the engine.

This time, his hand reaches out to touch your face. He caresses your lips with his thumb, gentle strokes over the soft skin. You’re helpless to stop the pleasure igniting between your legs, completely turned on. Your nipples harden, barely covered beneath the thin material of your sleeping shirt. You silently curse yourself at how easily you let yourself fall into this.

You step back, refusing to let him see you sweat. Your legs feel like jelly. You’re frustrated that he wants to play this game with you just to prove a point to the real Satan.

Lucifer chuckles, looking you up and down. “You’re only hurting yourself by denying it, my love,” he says. His gaze settles on your chest.

“You can fool yourself, but your body betrays you. This turns you on.”

You look down at your breasts. Sure enough, your nipples are practically poking through the flimsy material of your t-shirt.

Lucifer steps towards you again. At the same time, you feel Satan at your back, running his hands up and down your arms. You shiver as more goosebumps flare across your skin.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lucifer asks, visibly annoyed.

“I’m going to prove my point to you. I can fuck better than you can in your own body,” Satan replies matter-of-factly.

Lucifer laughs out loud, hand on his chest. “You really believe that, do you? I accept your challenge. We shall let Y/N be the one who determines.”

Wait, what?

You open your mouth to protest, but close it just as quickly. A shiver of pleasure shudders through you at the thought of being fucked by not only one, but two attractive demons. The dark desire you feel causes you to grow ever wetter with the anticipation, your arousal soaking into the fabric of your shorts.

Noting your silent approval, Lucifer chuckles softly. He presses himself into you.

“Don’t be afraid, my love,” he coos, drawing ever closer.

Before you can react, he crushes his mouth against yours. You bite his lip, and he takes your cue to open his mouth slightly. You meet your tongue with his, rolling them over each other.

Satan places a hand just under the hem of your shirt, fingers lightly grazing the bare skin. He leans in from behind, lips brushing your ear. He nips at the lobe gently, pushing your hair to the side. Your neck bare, he moves his lips down the curve of it, kissing it and sucking the skin into his mouth.

Satan’s lips leave you as he slips his other hand under your shirt. His fingers delicately trace the curves of your hips, then dance up your waist. Each touch ignites a spark on your skin, your nerve endings on high sensitivity. His hands slowly move to your front, coming together on your abdomen.

They glide farther up, sliding gracefully over your bare breasts. He’s delighted to find you’re not wearing a bra, cupping the soft mounds. He rolls the delicate buds of your nipples between his thumb and index finger. The pleasure shoots straight down between your legs. Your clit is throbbing as you feel the hardened bulge at the front of his pants pressed into your ass.

You moan into Lucifer’s mouth, unable to control yourself. He bites your lip one last time before pulling away, a cocky grin forming on his handsome face. You can feel his cock straining against the constricting fabric of his slacks in front.

“Mm, why is Satan getting all the spotlight?” Lucifer murmurs.

While Satan continues to massage your breasts, Lucifer moves his hand to your inner thigh. You inhale sharply as his fingers dance up and down the delicate skin, caressing it, moving closer and closer to where you want him to be. His fingers hook underneath your shorts, and you gasp.

Burying his face into your neck, kissing and nipping at the skin as Satan had not long before, Lucifer slides his fingers between your drenched folds. They glide up and down with ease, your arousal practically dripping down your legs.

You whimper as your clit continues to throb, aching to be touched. Relishing in your clear desperation, Lucifer pulls his fingers away, and the sudden absence of them feels like a hunger pang growing with intensity. After some torturous seconds, he finally obliges, slipping his fingers back in. His middle finger massages the swollen bud. This time, the sound that escapes you is so lewd, you surprise even yourself.

“Ahhh...Lucifer…” you mewl, “please don’t stop…”

The assault on your most sensitive nerve endings is almost too much. Your legs begin to shake. You lean back into Satan and raise an arm up, hooking it around his neck and pulling his head down to meet yours. Your tongues dance together as both demons continue their tortuous, yet delicious, onslaught of your senses.

As though in sync, both demons pull away at the same time. Lucifer steps back, studying you again with his burning stare raking up and down your body. His eyes are glassy, desire flooding his gaze. His lips part, as though to say something, but suddenly they close, taking in the sight of you. Satan does the same. Their stares are predatory, but you welcome the feeling.

You stand between them, chest rising and falling rapidly. Your hair is mussed, falling over one shoulder and spilling across your back; your eyes are half-closed, glazed over with lust.

Lucifer meets your eyes, then issues you a command.

“Take off your clothes.”

You nod obediently. You lift your shirt over your head, your bare breasts spilling out. You roll your shorts down your hips, discarding the clothes on the floor. Feeling suddenly vulnerable at your now fully-exposed state, you falter, reaching your hands up to cover your breasts.

“Don’t be bashful now,” murmurs Lucifer, running his tongue over his lips. “You were begging me to touch you not that long ago.”

“We’ll take care of you,” Satan purrs in response, running his hands up and down the curves of your waist.

“I want you on your bed,” Lucifer directs you, pointing towards it.

Again, you obey without hesitation. You lay on your back, turning your head to the side as both demons approach you, the same hungered look in their eyes.

“Now, now,” chides Lucifer. “We can’t see your pretty sight with your legs stuck together like that, can we?”

Satan nods in agreement, a grin creeping onto his face.

“Let’s get her on all fours,” he suggests, his smile wicked with sadistic desire.

You roll onto your stomach, positioning yourself as he says. Your back is straight, rigid. You keep your legs pressed together, feeling hesitant.

“Good girl. Arch your back,” he continues. “Let us see how turned on you are.”

Bending your arms at the elbows, you arch your back, your body moving in a fluid motion. Your hands fold together under your pillow, and you rest your head on the soft cushion. There’s no hiding anything in this position, and you know it well. The delicate pink skin of your pussy is in full view for Satan and Lucifer, lips shiny and coated in your abundant fluid arousal.

The bed creaks softly as Lucifer climbs behind you, placing his hands on the supple skin of your ass and squeezing it.

“What a beautiful sight you are like this...isn’t she, Satan?” Lucifer murmurs from behind you. Satan inhales sharply as he watches you hungrily, silently agreeing with his brother.

Lucifer squeezes your ass again. “I want to see every inch of you,” he murmurs. Suddenly, his hands still grabbing either cheek, he spreads you open even further. His breath hitches.

You whimper, your confidence wavering at the fact that he’s exposing your most private areas. Simultaneously, you feel so turned on, you almost can’t take it anymore.

You’ll do just about anything at this point to feel the stretch of a cock between your walls, and your pussy clenches in the anticipation.

Lucifer leans forward, teeth sinking into the flesh of your left cheek. Suddenly, his tongue grazes you between your folds from behind. He relishes the sweet taste of your juices generously coating his tongue as he moves it from front to back. He travels back further, further...your eyes widen in surprise as his tongue flicks up and down the sensitive space between your ass cheeks. You gasp, then moan, your arousal skyrocketing.

Satan’s voice sharply cuts through your bliss, causing Lucifer to move back in surprise.

“How come you get to have all the fun, Lucifer?” he complains. He strides over to the bed, grabbing one of your arms. “I got her into that position. It’s my turn now.”

Bemused, you turn your head to the side, glancing at him. His piercing crimson gaze of the face he now wears bores into you, a stark contrast to his usual calming, beautiful jewel-toned eyes. Still holding your arm, Satan tugs at it gently.

“Sit up, Y/N,” he orders.

You lift yourself up steadily and sit up with your legs still spread, resting your back against Lucifer. As you do so, Satan climbs onto the bed. He lays down, head resting on the pillow, bending his legs underneath yours. Lucifer rises, giving the younger demon more room. He cocks an eyebrow, an amused expression tugging at his features.

Just when you’re trying to figure out what Satan wants from you, he grabs your hips, propelling you forward. You yelp in surprise. You’re seated on his bare chest, your womanhood mere inches from his own face. As he tugs at your hips, silently guiding you closer to him, you realize that’s exactly what he wants. You gently move forward on your knees until his head is between your thighs, spreading them further until his mouth reaches you.

His tongue slides between your sensitive folds, and you reach out, hands gripping the wooden headboard for support. Satan’s hands rest against your inner thighs, caressing the skin gently. He laps up your wetness, tasting the sweet nectar of your juices that coat the fleshy pink skin of your pussy. You move your hips up and down, grinding them against his tongue as you alternate the levels of your sensation. His tongue flicks at your swollen nub, eliciting another lewd moan to tear from your throat.

“A-Ah!” you cry out. You’ve never been eaten out like this before. You’re so turned on, you can feel the pressure building as the fire begins to pool low in your belly.

“Ride my face until you’re dripping, Y/N,” Satan murmurs.

He lightly nibbles the soft flesh of your thigh, peppering gentle kisses as his lips make their way back between your legs, his tongue rightfully resuming its cadence of getting you off.

Behind you, Lucifer chuckles. “Actually, that’s my face you’re riding, my love.”

He presses up against your back, his still-clothed erection poking at your ass. His lips find purchase on your neck, kissing it. He places his hands on the soft mounds of your breasts, drawing out a whimper from your lips as you shiver in delight.

Lifting your arm, Lucifer ducks his head underneath. Your arm now resting across his shoulders, his head is level with your bosom. He tongues your nipple, nipping and sucking it gently into his mouth. Yet again, the onslaught of all the different stimulation is almost too much to handle. A few seconds later, you feel your climax ignite, blazing a trail of fire through your veins.

You mutter a string of curses as your head rolls back in ecstasy, riding out the luscious waves of electricity pulsating from between your hips all the way up into your chest. Your heart pumps faster, faster, sending sparks all over your body. Satan continues to flick your clit with his tongue as you come undone on top of him, prolonging your bliss several beautiful seconds longer.

Your orgasm now reduced to a waning ember, you move back, legs straddling Satan’s thighs. His erection prods at you between your legs, though his black slacks still remain on. A carnal desire for the length of his cock to fill you flows through you as you unbutton them. He watches you carefully, raw lust blazing through his crimson eyes. His lips are shiny, covered in a sheen of the fluid evidence of your release. A few seconds later, Satan’s fully-erect cock springs out. You run your tongue over your lips at the sight of it.

“Well, Lucifer,” Satan breathes, his voice low. “Looks like I’ve already outperformed you. You might as well give up now, and just watch me fuck her until she falls apart.”

Desperate for the much-needed stretch of his length sheathed inside you, you barely pay any mind to Satan’s assertion. Your hand reaches out to grasp his cock, hunger and lust burning ever brighter…

Just as abruptly, you’re pulled backwards into Lucifer’s tight embrace, pinning your arms to your chest. You whimper, visibly annoyed that he’s preventing you from getting what you so desperately want...no, need...right now.

“Don’t be so naive, Satan. I let you get her off first, so that when I fuck her, she can feel the difference between you and I when she cums,” Lucifer laughs.

“Look at her. She wants my cock so badly she practically ripped my pants off to get to it. You’re holding her back.”

Still unable to move, Lucifer runs a hand tenderly along your waist.

“You took her from me to have your fun. Y/N is a good girl and knows she needs to be shared equally between us...right, my darling?”

“Y-yes,” you respond obediently.

Lucifer kisses the top of your head, then lets go of you. You fall slightly forward. Satan reaches his hands up to your shoulders and pulls you down gently towards him, lips meeting yours in a fervent kiss as you taste your own arousal.

Behind you, the sound of Lucifer’s zipper coming undone makes your eyes widen with excitement. With his ample length pressing against you, you arch your back and grind your hips onto him. He moans, massaging your ass. The head of his cock presses against your entrance, and you ready yourself to push back into him. Your fingers grip the sheets…

All of a sudden Satan, noticing what’s about to happen, tugs your hips forward. You break off the kiss, biting back a scream of exasperation. Your frustration at the two demons constantly vying for dominance irritates the hell out of you when all you want is the much-needed pleasure of a cock stuffed inside of you.

“I’m the oldest, so I get to fuck her first,” Satan declares.

“Wrong,” Lucifer counters, aggravation creeping into his voice. “I’m Lucifer, not you. You happen to be temporarily occupying my body. Therefore, I’ll be fucking Y/N first.”

“Technically, your body is older, yes? Then I win,” Satan laughs.

Before you can even react, Satan pulls your hips upward, angling his cock underneath you so that it rests against your entrance. Wet and extraordinarily frantic for either one of their cocks at this point, you find yourself unable to resist any longer. Your hips roll over him, crying out in ecstasy as his generous length and girth fill you completely. The glorious stretch of his cock between your walls overrides all your other senses.

“A-Ah! Mmmm...”

You lean back, hands resting on his thighs to help you balance. Lifting your hips, you maneuver your body up and down in a hypnotic rhythm. Satan thrusts harder into you, matching your tempo as the lewd sound of skin clashing against skin permeates the room. The way you’re leaned back allows him to see everything, and the sight of his cock disappearing within your walls alone is almost enough to make him come undone.

In your elation, it’s easy to forget that Lucifer is still behind you, furious that the younger demon defied him. Refusing to let himself be outwitted any longer, his right hand reaches out to grip your breast, drawing out a surprised, ragged breath. His other hand reaches down between your legs.

As you continue to ride Satan’s cock in an intoxicating harmony, Lucifer’s middle finger finds your pink, swollen clit with ease. Still recovering from your release not so long ago, the bud is hypersensitive, and the slightest touch from Satan evokes a loud, mewling cry from your lips.

Almost instantaneously, you shatter, reaching your peak. The orgasm shudders through you, your back arching as you ride out the delectable waves of pleasure. Your nails dig scarlet crescent-shaped moons into Satan’s thighs.

Satan continues slamming into you, your walls clenching around his cock even more as he watches you cum. He hisses, knowing he can’t take much more of this, the tightened grip of your pussy threatening to do him in sooner than he’d like.

Several thrusts later, Satan bites back a moan, finally releasing and filling you with his seed. Breathless, you lift yourself off of him, nearly collapsing onto Satan behind you.

“Fuck, Lucifer,” rasps Satan, breathing heavily as he lifts himself off the bed. “You had to interrupt, didn’t you?”

“Don’t defy me, and I wouldn’t have to,” Lucifer chides, his voice brimming with venom.

“I’m shocked you didn’t cream your pants when you did that, seeing as you love getting off on punishing us-”

“That’s enough.”

You stand, though your legs are shaking. You can feel your own arousal fluid, mixed with Satan’s seed, leaking out onto your thigh.

Shit, and you’re still not done yet . You’re not sure how much more of this you can take.

Lucifer turns to you. Your eyes are glazed over with lust, the swell of your ample breasts bouncing with every movement, your hair messy and falling over one shoulder in shiny, dark rivulets. Your body is peppered with tiny red love bites.

A grin creeps onto his face. It’s his turn now . He stands next to you, fingers splaying across your back possessively.

“My darling, Y/N,” Lucifer coos, reaching up to stroke your hair. “I know you were too obedient to tell Satan no when he fucked you. You’re a good girl. You know I was supposed to fuck you first...right?”

“Y-yes, of course,” you answer.

“Good…” Lucifer continues stroking your hair. “Now, be a very good girl and get back on the bed on all fours. Just like before. Let me see every inch of that beautiful pussy that I’m going to make my own…”

Satan chortles, watching the older demon command you in his previous body with morbid curiosity.

“This should be good,” he murmurs to himself, perching himself on your desk to watch from afar.

You follow Lucifer’s command, positioning yourself just as you had earlier, back arched to the Celestial Realm. His breath hitches as he takes in the sight of your fucked-out pussy, now a slightly deepened pink from all the pounding. Satan’s cum, mixed with your own fluids, drips out of your hole.

“That’s my girl,” Lucifer praises you, languidly running his fingers along the curve of your spine. The sensation elicits a shudder from your body. You feel him climbing onto the bed, positioning himself behind you.

“I’m sorry, my darling...I have to punish you for the way you moaned and looked like a happy little slut riding his cock when you were supposed to be getting fucked by mine,” Lucifer purrs.

Without warning, Lucifer’s hand comes down on your ass, the smack reverberating throughout the room. You hiss, the pain stinging your cheek. His hand cracks down on you again. You hold back a cry, burying your head into the pillow. The ache is uncomfortable, though not completely unbearable...nor is it unwanted.

“I’m sorry, Lucifer,” you mewl, hoping he’ll punish you further. He obliges with one final smack on your other cheek. Your cry is carnal, wanton; the sinful pleasure of the pain mixing with arousal fanning the flames of your desire.

He spreads you, eyeing his blazing red handprints etched onto your skin with delight, and leans forward. His cock prods your entrance. Without warning, he thrusts into you, and you whine at the sudden intrusion. His length fully sheathed in the wet heat of your pussy, he groans, balancing himself on your hips. You attempt to match his chaotic thrusting rhythm, pushing yourself back onto him, but he moves so fast and so hard, it’s difficult.

“Mph!”

One hand resting on your ass, Lucifer reaches his other hand out, grasping the length of your hair and twisting it, weaving it between his fingers. He suddenly tugs on the long tresses, yanking your head back. You gasp in shock as you make direct eye contact with Satan, still perched on your desk, a smirk forming on his face.

“Don’t break her neck, Luci,” Satan quips, still bitter that his fuck got cut short.

Ignoring him, Lucifer leans forward, hot breath tickling your ear.

“You’re such a good girl, Y/N...such a good, obedient girl,” he coos. “I now know why Diavolo picked you. You’re so docile, so compliant...my darling.”

Fingers tightly woven into your hair, Lucifer continues his almost frenzied strokes. His cock slams into your g-spot, and he can feel your pussy tightening around him in anticipation of another sweet release. He curses, pulling his cock out, releasing his fingers from your hair. Your head drops forward and you whine, the decrescendo of your orgasm ebbing slowly.

“Lay on your back,” Lucifer instructs.

You comply, lying supine as your eyes flit up towards the ceiling.

“Look at me.”

You look down to meet his gaze, the beautiful emerald orbs flecked with pools of gold staring directly into yours. His hands on your knees, he pushes them apart, spreading your legs. You drop your gaze down, breaking eye contact to watch him.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he commands. There’s a heavy implication in his words, one that screams don’t disobey me.

You nod slowly, eyes holding steady in his fervent gaze. He thrusts into you again, relishing your cry of ecstasy. He bites his lip, watching your breasts bounce with his fevered movements, the light sheen of sweat on your skin glimmering in the hazy lights of the room.

Lucifer leans forward, your ankles resting by his shoulders, fingers gripping the sheets as he slams into you, this time at a slower cadence. He continues his incline, your knees practically pressed to your chest. The heightened angle allows him to slam into you deeper, magnifying both his and your pleasure exponentially.

Eyebrows knit tightly, his own release drawing near, Lucifer pulls back a bit, pausing his rhythm. His hand reaches out, tracing delicate lines across your breast, dancing upwards until it reaches your neck.

His fingers lightly grip your throat, and your eyes widen in shock. You’ve never been choked while fucked before, but are certainly intrigued.

“Relax, my darling...I won’t hurt you,” Lucifer says, trying to control his breathing. He continues his stroke, cock plunging in and out of your pussy, completely lubricated with your arousal.

The feeling of his fingers wrapped around your neck as he fucks your tight pussy sends a shudder of pleasure through him. He swallows, on the verge of losing control; but, for your sake, he regains his composure, not wanting to hurt you too badly the first time he chokes you while he dominates you.

After all, he knows he’s clearly won this competition. He wants to do this to you again...in his own body, of course.

Your release follows quickly after, shattering you through your core. You can barely handle all the stimulation, having had cum twice before already. Your skull slams backwards into the pillow, your vision briefly fading to black. Your body jerks forward, then goes still, your breathing labored as your chest rises and falls rapidly.

Hand still grasping your throat, Lucifer slams into you one final time, filling you with his bitter seed as he groans in ecstasy. He removes himself from you as Satan crosses the room, both demons examining your exhausted form sprawled out on the bed. Your legs are still spread, the abundant white fluid of both demons’ releases dribbling out of you and pooling onto the silk sheets.

“I have to admit, I look pretty damn good when I’m fucking...thanks, Luci,” Satan laughs. Lucifer shakes his head, though a smile plays on his lips.

The two demons help you up off the bed. You stumble, your legs quivering as you recover from the incessant pounding you just took, starting to feel sore between your legs. Lucifer and Satan stroke your hair gently, holding you up as you put your sleeping clothes back on.

“Well, Y/N...what’s the verdict?” Satan challenges you. “Not that I need to ask, since it’s obviously me…”

“Both. It’s both of you,” you answer with a sigh. “Now...can we please go to bed? I’m exhausted.”

Walking back into your bathroom, you glance at your mirror in the reflection. It is not kind to you, showing every puckered red love bite peppered across your skin and wild, mussed hair. Wincing, you turn towards the demon brothers responsible for all the damage and collapse onto your bed, exhaustion overtaking all other emotion.

“I don’t think I have enough concealer to cover all this. You guys are going to have a lot of explaining to do,” you say as your voice tapers off, drifting into the dark abyss of slumber.

“Don’t worry, my darling, we’ll take care of it,” Lucifer laughs, stroking your hair until you fall asleep, chest rising and falling gently.

“I totally won, just so you know,” Satan quips.

“Ha! Still so ignorant,” retorts Lucifer. “You forgot? I made her cum twice-”

“Because you interrupted me-”

You’re pretty sure you can hear their never-ending argument in your dreams, unable to escape even in your own sleep.

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2manyfandoms2count · 3 years

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Alix's rom-com night

The June event of the @mlwritersguild was to create bonus content for one of our fics - I decided to seize the opportunity to finally sit down and write one of the bonus scenes of You can count on me (I will be there for you), and to do draw a bit of fanart to go with it (4 panels, including a Marichat piece)! Let me tell you that the Burrow is a pain to draw, but I'm actually quite proud of the result :)

About YCCOM: It's an aged-up, one-sided reveal with "fake" wedding fic, based on Sallteas' art. The fic is 9 chapters and 20k words long. It was written before season 4, so it's no longer canon compliant in terms of who knows who's identities at the beginning.

Synopsis: Ladybug's identity is compromised, and somebody is after her. After a lot of pondering, she and Chat Noir come to the conclusion that her best bet is for her to marry Adrien Agreste. It breaks her heart that she is not marrying Chat Noir, but she knows that she's buying them time to figure out who is behind the anonymous letters she's been receiving, and hopefully to find Hawkmoth. Whatever the situation might be, her wedding day should provide a moment of respite. And maybe it would have, had Chat Noir refrained from coming to visit her just before the ceremony...

About Alix's rom-com night: it's a one shot that's chronologically set before the main fic, but I recommend reading it after reading the latter since it contains spoilers for it. It follows Alix (obviously), and includes Ladybug revealing her identity to Chat Noir and the set up of their "fake wedding" plan.

Hope you enjoy!

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Alix opened her door and dropped her keys in the bowl as she kicked off her shoes with a satisfied sigh. Home, sweet home.

Her studio apartment wasn’t very big, but then again, she didn’t need a huge surface when she had a whole extension waiting for her just a transformation phrase away. She’d mentally thanked Marinette more than once for choosing her to wield the Rabbit Miraculous, rather than somebody else, just for the savings she made in rent.

She whistled happily as she made her way to her kitchen area, grabbing a bag of popcorn out of a cupboard and shoving it in her microwave.

She deserved the treat. She’d been running around all week, trying to slide letters to her targets without being spotted, spending hours on end to find the perfect stationary, and then staying up at night to get the wording exactly right, a delicate mix of subtlety and threat to elicit some sort of response from them. It had taken a lot of trial and error, especially for Ladybug. Her friend had always been surprisingly oblivious on many fronts, and it seemed that her honeymoon phase with Chat Noir reinforced her optimistic ability to brush ominous details aside. It had taken three letters for her to start freaking out and to promise Tikki she would talk to her partner about them, whereas Hawkmoth had started the analysis phase upon the first one he’d received.

Alix had only been mildly surprised by the identity of their nemesis when she’d decided it was high time she knew who they were facing; it was all too fitting that the man who leached off Paris’ most intense negative emotions should be the most embittered person she knew, and the one who, in retrospect, had been the cause of many an Akuma (she still shuddered at the what-could-have-been of Chat Noir’s akumatisation).

The microwave dinged, bringing her thoughts back to her timeline. She took the bowl out and called for her Kwami.

“Fluff, clockwise! Burrow!”

A white portal appeared in the middle of her living space and she walked through it, emerging in the ovoid room covered in screens. She made her way to the furthest point, hung her umbrella up on the coathanger she kept in there, and grabbed a folding chair. It was a director’s seat which supposedly had belonged to a rising name in the cinema world before their career had been shot down for obscure reasons, but she didn’t really care about its story; she’d bought it for a very low price at a yard sale, and that was all that mattered to her.

“Right, where are you…” She muttered, scrutinising her surroundings, until she found the screen she was looking for.

She unfolded the chair, zoomed in on the empty (for now) rooftop, propped down in her seat and threw a fistful of popcorn into her mouth, waiting for the show to start.

Unsurprisingly, Ladybug was the first to arrive on the scene. She paced around, mumbling to herself as she wrung her hands together. Alix felt a pang of guilt as she watched her rehearse how she would break the news to her partner, but reassured herself that the ordeal would soon be over.

Finally, Chat Noir landed beside Ladybug, and she flung herself at him, holding him so tight he had to untangle himself from her arms to breathe.

“Well, well, well, my Lady, I know I couldn’t make it to patrol last night, but I didn’t think you’d miss me this much,” he chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Alix rolled her eyes at just how lovestruck he looked as he did so. How could her friends be so sappy, and yet still be at square one in terms of knowing who the other was?

Some might have said that it was romantic, that they loved each other regardless of who they were; but those people did not have to deal with the constant end of the world threat.

“What was so important that you couldn’t just text me?”

Ladybug took a deep breath. Her fingers slid along his arms as she relaxed her embrace, taking his hands in hers at the end of the line. “Somebody knows my identity,” she said quietly, looking down. “And I don’t know who they are.”

“What?!” Chat’s voice detonated in the previously peaceful quiet of the evening, making a couple of pigeons take off in a loud flutter of wings.

“I’m so sorry, I must have been careless when I got home one night, they must have seen me, I bet it was last week when I was tired and I-”

“My Lady, no offence, but I don’t care about the when and why, just... are you okay?” He tilted her chin up, gently turning her head to each side, checking for any signs of injury.

She placed her hand on his, making him stop, and gave him a soft, sad smile. “Yes, Chaton. Just a little rattled; you know you were the first person I wanted to reveal my identity to. Not including Bunnyx, although technically I never told her who I am.”

“And technically, I’m still the only person who knows who you are,” Bunnyx smugly commented between two handfuls of popcorn. “Now come on, I want to see how you react when you reveal your identities to each other.”

“How do you know somebody knows, though? And do you have any idea what their intentions are?”

Ladybug’s expression darkened. “I received some letters. They’re not signed, but they’ve got enough butterflies on them to make me think that even if they’re not from the biggest pest in Paris, then they’re probably from somebody who’s up to no good.”

Chat Noir swore under his breath, then regained his countenance. “So, what do we do now? Do you think we can hunt down the bugger?”

“We definitely will, but…” Ladybug bit her lip, and Alix leaned forward in her seat. This had to be it. “Chaton, I think the time has come for me to tell you who I am.”

“YES! Finally!” Alix cheered, almost spilling her popcorn bowl.

“Are you sure, my Lady?” Alix didn’t have to be on site to tell that Chat Noir’s heart was beating faster than usual; the corners of his mouth twitched as he repressed a smile, as though his excitement could make her change her mind.

“Yes.” She nodded. “I really want you to know.” In case something happens to me, Alix was pretty sure her friend had left unsaid.

“Okay, okay.” Chat Noir took a deep breath, buzzing with anticipation, so much so that he apparently missed the whole subtext of her previous words. “Do you want to do this now? And how do you want to do it? Do you want me to close my eyes? Are you going to write it on a piece of paper for me to read? Are you going to detransform? Should-”

“I was thinking the latter, and yes, now,” Ladybug said timidly. “Up to you if you want to look or not.”

“For some reason, I feel like I shouldn’t.” He took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles without breaking their eye contact, then took another deep breath and closed his eyes, a blissful smile on his lips. “Ready when you are, my Lady.”

“Ok, here goes.” She let out a shaky breath and called off her transformation. The soft pink glow engulfed her and receded, her suit melting away to reveal her true appearance.

“Wow, Marinette, you actually broke out your favourite dress for this? Glad to see all of this isn’t affecting your ability to think straight.” Alix smirked. If her friend had gone home after a long, stressful work day, and found it in her to change and doll herself up to make a good impression on Chat Noir, things couldn’t be that bad. She had to agree that her dress, simple, white, with little red hearts embroidered on it, was perfect for the occasion, though.

“You can open your eyes now, Chaton.” Marinette gave his hands a squeeze.

Chat Noir obliged, blinking slowly as he took in her appearance, her identity, her. Marinette squirmed under his gaze, his expression not giving away any of his thoughts.

“H-Hi,” she stammered when she couldn’t take it anymore. “I, erm, I guess I should introduce myself? We’ve run into each other before, when we were younger, and even if you actually had lunch with my family that one time, I guess it’s been a while… My name is-”

“Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Chat’s smile finally broke free, spread from ear to ear, almost literally illuminating his face. Alix wondered if anything could ever wipe it off. Love and admiration twinkled in his eyes as he picked her up and started spinning her. Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck, giggling giddily, before Chat Noir closed the gap between their lips.

Bunnyx modestly looked away, allowing them to have their moment. Her eyes landed on a rerun of Plagg putting an end to the dinosaurs’ reign.

“I should have known that it was you, Princess.” Chat panted slightly as he carefully set Marinette back on the roof. “Everything makes so much more sense now, I-”

“Before you finish that thought, I can’t know your identity.” She placed her index finger on his lips. “Yet, of course.”

“What?” Chat froze, and so did Bunnyx, her hand pausing midway between the popcorn bowl and her mouth. “But why?”

“I don’t know what might happen to me, but I don’t want to put you in any danger.” Marinette cupped his cheek. “And I don’t want to lose my memories of you. Of us.”

“Oh for Kwami’s sake.” Alix rolled her eyes. “Boo!” She threw a fistful of popcorn at the screen as her friend continued to list all the reasons Chat couldn’t reveal his identity.

“My Lady, Marinette, if you’re worried about your safety, maybe we should do something about it. I could move in with you, or in a flat nearby, maybe, stay transformed or wear a mask at all times so you don’t know who I am, we can figure it out… Of course I know you can protect yourself, but I could stand guard while you sleep, or...” Chat raked his hand through his hair as he thought.

“You know I love you, Chaton, and that’s why I can’t let you do that! You can’t live like that, I can’t ask that of you. Not to mention how difficult it would be for me, do you really think I could resist having you so close, and not trying to get a glimpse of who you are?” She joked, trying to diffuse the sudden tension.

“Then we need to get you a bodyguard,” he insisted.

“I thought about it, but… Well, I can’t really afford it, and how could I justify suddenly needing personal security? I’m just a designer, and nothing I’ve ever done has been avant-garde enough that I should be worried about my safety.” She shook her head.

“Damn, I knew I should have targeted Chat Noir,” Alix swore under her breath. “He would’ve had to reveal his identity, and she definitely wouldn’t have been a pushover on her kitty’s protection matter. Come on Adrien, do something.”

She could tell that he was up to something just by looking at him. He’d been silent for a little too long for it to be natural. Cogs turned in his head, making him squint. He let go of her completely and paced around the roof, almost pulling his hair out as he did so. Alix sensed that whatever was on his mind was going to be big. She leaned forwards in anticipation.

Finally, Chat Noir came to a halt in front of Marinette, the fever in his eyes and his dishevelled hair making him look slightly unhinged.

“Buguinette, I think I’ve got a solution,” he whispered.

“You do?” Marinette’s voice was full of hope, although she looked slightly concerned about him.

“You’re probably not going to like it,” he warned her, lifting a finger.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” She shrugged, taking a step forward.

“Right.” He gave her one last look, an opportunity to stop him before the words tumbled out. She nodded encouragingly. “Okay, here’s the thing. I have it on very good authority that Adrien Agreste is being pressured into getting married by his father.”

“I see Gabriel’s just as delightful as always,” Marinette shook her head.

“Unlike good cheese, he definitely doesn’t get better with time.” Chat smiled bitterly, eyes losing focus a little.

“What’s it got to do with us, though?” Marinette prompted, placing a hand on his arm.

“Oh, Agreste, you absolute genius, I think I know where this is going.” Alix took another handful of popcorn.

“Oh, yes, right.” He cleared his throat. “See, Adrien’s not dating anyone at the moment…” Right, Alix snorted. “And he’s not really planning on starting a relationship with his father breathing down his neck, but, well, he happens to owe me a favour, and I’m sure that he’d be more than happy to put his security detail to good use…”

“So you’re suggesting that I marry Adrien.” Marinette deadpanned.

“Well, er, I actually thought you could just date, but thinking about it… It would be less strange for you to request a bodyguard if your relationship was more serious…” He trailed off.

Alix was impressed by how well he concealed his emotions. His poker face was truly exceptional.

“And you think Adrien would be ready to marry me because of a favour he owes you?” Marinette crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips and squinting at him as she tried to pick at his lie.

Alix winced for Chat. Maybe he should have waited a bit before blurting out the (as it turned out) probably only sane option in that situation so he could work out all of the details for himself. Marinette was very good at trying to shake plans to see how solid their foundations were.

“Please. Adrien had a crush on you when you were younger, if anything I could probably smuggle it as another favour, given how perfect the fake scenario would be. Although I guess that since you also liked him… It might just cancel out.” He tapped his lip pensively.

“Adrien had a crush on me?” Marinette frowned. “Oh, you must mean Ladybug. I think Nino mentioned it once.”

“Well, yes, but he also had one on you, Marinette.” Chat stepped forward, mischief twinkling in his eyes as he poked her on the nose.

“Really, now,” she muttered to herself.

“The main reason he didn’t act on it was that he thought you loved somebody else.” Chat smiled ironically.

“Wow, what a pair of idiots.” Marinette chuckled.

“You don’t know the half of it.” He kissed her forehead.

“But you know what?” Marinette didn’t pick up on her partner’s comment. “I’m actually glad we didn’t get together. It probably would have delayed us getting together.” She pressed a peck to his lips. “If we’d gotten together at all in that timeline.” She smirked.

Alix snorted. Out of all the timelines she’d watched unfold in an attempt to keep things in check, there wasn’t a single one where Marinette and Adrien, Ladybug and Chat Noir, didn’t end up together, and not just because of her interventions to help them, and the rest of the planet, stay alive.

Marinette’s face fell at Chat Noir’s lack of response. Alix knew her friend didn’t particularly believe in soulmates, but she understood that she would have liked a sappy Chat Noir special comment on how he’d told her he’d grow onto her anyway, and that she would have soon discovered that the Agreste boy had nothing on him. She assumed that he was too busy restraining himself from saying the wrong thing.

“Actually… What about us, then?” Marinette cleared her throat and looked up at him, eyes glistening slightly in the half light.

“My Lady… If you really think that you being a divorcée will spur me away…” Chat Noir looked down at their entwined hands, locks of blond hair falling in front of his eyes, concealing his giddy smile from her. You sneaky cat, Alix thought.

Marinette followed his gaze, letting out a long sigh as she watched their hands sway lightly. Alix knew her brain was probably trying to find all the flaws in the plan. She crossed her fingers, hoping that it would be enough for her friend to accept. It was perfect, whether they got their act together and figured everything out before the event, or not.

“Fine,” Marinette finally said with resolve, making Alix mentally thank whoever was out there. “I’ll do it on two conditions.”

“Anything, my love.” Chat let out a sigh of relief.

“Firstly, we’re honest with Adrien from the get go. No lying about anything.” Chat nodded along. “Secondly, we get cracking on finding Hawkmoth, and after we do and the divorce is settled, if we even get that far with Adrien because obviously if everything is settled before the wedding we won’t be going through the whole plan…” Chat smiled fondly as she took a deep breath. “After all that, we are getting married.” She gestured between the both of them.

“My Lady, are you proposing to me right meow?” Chat Noir all but purred.

“I guess so.” Marinette shrugged, a smile and a blush spreading on her cheeks.

“Wow, then, I’m definitely putting Adrien in charge of the proposal planning,” he replied with a smirk.

“Chaton!” She stomped her foot, her mildly amused smile cancelling out her frown.

“What?” He teased her.

“Will you? Marry me?” She held his gaze.

“Do you even have to ask?” He chuckled. “You know, my Lady, I’m pretty sure that, in my head, we’ve been married since that speech you gave on the Eiffel Tower during our very first fight. Well, I’ve been married to you; you do whatever you please.”

“You’re such a dork,” Marinette laughed, brushing her nose against his and throwing her arms around his neck.

“And yet you still love me.” He pulled her closer.

“Unfortunately, I do,” she sighed dramatically before pressing a kiss to his lips.

Alix dismissed the screen. She’d seen what she wanted, and it seemed like a good place to stop; a happy, sappy ending. Also, she’d finished all of her popcorn.

Everything was on track, her friends would start their Hawkmoth hunt, and soon everybody in Paris would be able to live without fear of their own negative emotions.

(Of course, that was the theory; she’d soon find out that she’d underestimated Adrien’s will to organise the perfect wedding for Marinette, and that, my friends, was no small oversight.)

#miraculous ladybug #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #ml #mlb #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #miraculous fanart #alix kubdel #bunnyx #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #half-reveal #one-sided reveal #aged-up characters #elle writes #elle sketches #yccom

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ahopelessromantic · 4 years

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31% ➳ S. Reid

Pairing: Spencer x neutral! Reader (if I missed something please tell me!)

Word count: 2,4k

Warnings: Suggestive content, Spencer and reader really have the hots for each other

The nature of your friendship with Reid has been flirtatious from the start. So flirtatious that the team thinks it’s all a joke... right? (A/N: Please don’t ask me what this is. I wrote this in one sitting while suffering from PMS, I don’t even know anymore.)

“Look at that walk.” Morgan chuckled to Emily for everyone but especially you to hear. You rolled your eyes, yet couldn’t help the smug grin on your face. Like girls in high school ready to hear the newest gossip your two colleagues and closest friends leaned over your desk. “You, sweetie, got laid.” You let out a happy sigh and leaned back in your chair. Last time you had been this relaxed had been… god, you couldn’t even remember it.

“What’s their name?” Emily grinned, stealing a sip of coffee from your mug. “And do they have a brother? Sister? Cousin?” You lifted your brow. “A respectable, decent human being like me doesn’t kiss and tell. But it’s a he. And he’s all mine.” Both Morgan and Emily lifted their eyebrows in surprise. “(Y/N)? Getting territorial? We love to see it.” Morgan teased. You squinted at him. “You know what? I loved flaunting my post-coital bliss in front of you, but quite frankly I’m starting to feel attacked now, so I’ll go hang out with Garcia.” Emily feigned a pout. “Come on! At least give us some details!” You just winked at her after getting up from your seat and disappeared down the hallway. On the way to Penelope’s office, you didn’t miss Spencer’s searing hot look on you, a hint of the same smug smile on his lips that had been on yours when you had entered the BAU this morning.

“(Y/N), this is bad. We’re breaking at least three policies just by being here together right now. Also, relationships between colleagues are rarely a good idea.” You chuckled and pressed another kiss to Spencer’s neck. “Then why does it feel so good, Spence? And, actually, workplace hookups are way more common thank you think. About 31% of them even end up in marriage.” “Are you using my own weapons against me right now? That’s hot.” He murmured and pulled you further into his lap. You looked down into his eyes, your gaze dropping to his lips momentarily before wandering back up again. There was just something about him that made you feel like you were on fire, as if an electric current ran between the two of you. You bit your lip and played with his tie. “You have to know how I feel whenever you’re spitting your facts at least once, too.” Your eyes met again, and then your lips were on his.

Spencer and you had gotten along like a house on fire from the day you had joined the BAU. Somehow the two of you had clicked right into place after just a short period of Spencer warming up to you. Before anyone could even tell what was happening you had become the team’s new dynamic duo. Your sharp wit matched his, and what he was too shy to say you spat right out. And that everlasting tension between you had been there from the beginning, too. It had almost cost you your sanity, the way the air in a room would change as soon as Spencer was in it, the way his mere presence made you want to either pounce on him or rip your lashes out. For a while, it had been enough to just bury that attraction where everyone could see it, in plain sight beneath heaps and heaps of slightly inappropriate flirting. Spencer would blurt out how your new heels gave you just the right height to make out with him, you would blurt out how you would like to see him in his glasses and nothing else. Everyone had taken your remarks as jokes, and you had always laughed with them. But there had never been anything funny about the shocks of electricity jolting through your fingers whenever your hands accidentally met or about the warmth seeping through you whenever you slept propped up against each other on the jet. All that tension had unloaded one day after an unusually hard case. Spencer and you had been taken hostage by an Unsub on a psychotic break, and it had only been due to luck and good timing that you had made it out alive. After debriefing, you had found yourself in an abandoned hallway of whatever precinct you had been in, and then your eyes had met. The look in them had been the same. Slightly frazzled, pupils still widened from the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You had both been so high on the incredibleness of still being alive that suddenly, you had decided to just fucking do what your body had been telling you to do for so long already. “I think I’m going to kiss you now.” You had breathed out, barely audible. Spencer had leaned against the wall behind him and lifted his chin as if he had been daring you to do it. “Okay.” He had whispered back. And then your lips had met in what you could swear had been the best kiss of your life. Your hands had tangled themselves in his hair as if they had been supposed to be there all along, and his hands had fit in the groove of your waist as if they had been made for it. Maybe you had both been made for each other.

“It looks like the unsub is citing the karma sutra.” JJ’s gaze wandered over the book excerpts up on the case board. “A sexual sadist maybe?” Spencer shook his head almost excitedly, a familiar gleam in his eyes which he got whenever a case was particularly interesting to him. “See, that’s the interesting part. 80% of the karma sutra is actually just love-related philosophy and how to sustain desire. There is no sexual component to his murders, so I think he might either be trying to throw us off or create some sort of bizarre scavenger hunt.” While chewing on one of the fries Emily had brought you all for dinner you let your eyes wander over the pictures of sex positions and quotations on the board, then to the copy of the book lying right in front of Spencer on the table. “Well, it’s definitely an interesting choice to make for a book. Spence, you’ll keep it memorised for later, right?” You spoke, mostly out of habit. Spencer winked at you in response and Morgan choked on his burger. “There’s people eating here!” He spluttered out, pointing at Hotch, who looked like he wanted to die, and Rossi, who was watching the scene unfold with an amused smile on his face. All he was missing was a bucket of popcorn to match the level of detachment he was displaying. Prentiss just laughed and turned her attention to you. “(Y/N), does your boyfriend know about your workplace flirting buddy?” She knew exactly what she was doing, a mischievous glint in her eyes. You felt your face fall for the split of a second but immediately regained your composure. “Nice try, honey. I’m still not telling you about him. Also, for what it’s worth, he’s not the jealous type. So he doesn’t mind.” You deliberately avoided Spencer’s gaze, praying to whichever deities out there that you weren’t blushing.

Later that evening, back in your apartment, you could tell that something was on Spencer’s mind. He had taken some paperwork home that, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t have taken him longer than an hour. But it had been two and a half hours already, and the subconscious mumbling he only did when he was extremely anxious set you off. “Spence, baby, are you okay?” You had been his roommate for long enough to know that he needed someone to be there in moments like these. The two of you sharing an apartment had been a decision for practicality’s sake more than anything. You had slept over at each other’s apartments half of the time before that anyway, and this way, you were even able to save up some more to hopefully soon buy the house of your dreams. The team probably didn’t even know about the two of you living together, and if they knew, they had probably just added it to the list of weird things Spencer and you did. Spencer hadn’t even heard, and it took you placing your hand on his shoulder for him to return to reality. He looked up at you with a conflicted look, his eyes horribly sad. “Are you alright?” You asked again, sitting down next to him. He nodded and closed the case file he had been working on with a sigh. “I’m okay. I just keep on thinking about what Prentiss said.” You frowned. Emily tended to say a lot of things in just one day. “Back in the conference room. The…” He trailed off to take a deep breath. “The boyfriend thing.” You were still looking at him in confusion. “Am I?” “What?” You asked stupidly. Apparently, your brain had suffered a sudden case of non-functionality. You could feel his frustration get even worse. “Am I your boyfriend, (Y/N)?”, Spencer finally explained for you to catch on. Suddenly, a laugh escaped your lips. “Well, I mean I hope so.” Now it was he who looked like his mind was failing him. “I mean, to be honest, I hadn’t really properly thought about it, but I definitely bragged about my hot, intelligent FBI boyfriend to my friends from high school. So, I guess it would be really nice if you actually were. I mean, I think I haven’t slept in my own bed in weeks.” A smile had spread across Spencer’s face, a light pink hue dusting his cheeks. “I uh… I described you as my partner in the letters to my mom, too. I didn’t know how else to describe it to her. Because I … I guess I was hoping that this wasn’t just us sleeping together from the start. I trust you, (Y/N), more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. And I like having you by my side.” Not able to stop yourself, you closed the distance between the two of you to press your lips to his. Keeping your relationship with Spencer undefined for any longer than that would have been a huge waste of potential.

Somehow, you had always expected that Spencer would one day expose the two of you by taking it too far with your flirting. He hadn’t been all too experienced with dating, sex and everything beyond that before you, that was something he had told you himself once after a few glasses of your favourite red wine. But what you really hadn’t expected was running into Emily in an IKEA, of all places. Ever since once and for all defining your relationship you had moved into his bedroom for good, which left room for creativity in your old room. The two of you had been walking around the furniture store hand in hand, Spencer with a potted plant already under his arm, when you’d suddenly heard Emily calling out your name. If it hadn’t been for Spencer’s hand firmly in yours you would have booked it down the aisle of Malm closets, but this way all you could do was turn around with a deliberately composed expression. “Hi, Em.” You smiled as if you hadn’t just run into your colleague slash best friend while holding the hand of your also colleague, slash boyfriend. Prentiss looked like she was trying to make sense of the situation, her eyes fleeting back and forth between you and Spencer. “Is this something you do now? Hold hands and buy plants together?” You had to suppress a laugh and almost pitied her for her confusion. Spencer was forcing himself not to smile as well, swaying your still intertwined hands back and forth. “It’s not a big deal Emily, we just need some things for our apartment.” Her eyes looked just about ready to pop out of her skull at that. “Your apartment?! (Y/N), what about your boyfriend- oh.” Her eyes widened even more if that was even possible. “OH!” She almost yelled, and now you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips anymore. “No one will ever believe you.” You grinned, pressed a kiss to her cheek and pulled Spencer back to your shopping cart with you.

The next day, Emily sat at her desk with her head in her hands when Spencer and you entered the bullpen. She looked positively traumatised and now you were all the more glad that you had bought her a breakfast muffin on the way to work. “Hey, Em.” You greeted her hesitantly, you tone causing Morgan to look up from his screen. He always immediately knew when something was off. “So, Spencer, huh?” She mumbled instead of a greeting, mustering the two of you up and down. It wasn’t abnormal for the two of you to constantly be glued to each other’s sides, but now she was probably starting to see that from a whole new perspective. You could hear Morgan get up and trip over his chair in his haste to get to Emily’s desk, but your whole focus was on her at that moment. You smiled. “Yup. Don’t ask me how, or why, but I’m sure about him. He’s also just really fucking attractive.” At that, she laughed, and Spencer pouted playfully. “You only like me for my body, (Y/N).” You rolled your eyes and nudged him with your elbow. “I’m trying to make a point here, honey. But yeah, it’s Spence, and I’m happy it’s him.” “You know, I feel like I should probably be more surprised by this, but it’s not really much of a change from the way you behaved already. Kinda saw it coming.”, Morgan finally spoke up, and you couldn’t be more grateful to him for being so cool about the whole situation. “Aren’t you guys worried about the pressure of all of this? You know, workplace romances and everything?” Emily mused. Somehow, she had already switched back into concerned friend mode. But much to your surprise it was Spencer who spoke up and pulled you closer to his side with an arm around your waist. “Someone once told me that workplace romances are actually really common and that 31% of them even end in marriage.” You felt the biggest smile grow on your face and turned to look him in the eyes. “I don’t really know anything, about any of this. But I trust (Y/N), and I trust what we have. I’m just hoping that maybe we’ll be up in those 31%.” You couldn’t help it. You just had to press a kiss to his cheek for that. “I’m hoping for that, too.” You mumbled. Despite Morgan’s and Emily’s theatrical gagging at your public display of affection, you couldn’t help but feel like this was a significant moment. You were really doing this. And boy, were you serious about it.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #Matthew gray gubler #Matthew gray gubler x reader #BAU #BAU Team #BAU x Reader

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firefly-in-darkness · 4 years

Text

Misconceptions - 12/12.

Misconceptions - 12/12

Characters: Y/N, Bucky Barnes, Avengers

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series Summary: Bucky Barnes overhears a conversation that he shouldn’t have…

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Fluff, all of the fluff. a little bit of drama.

Beta: The always lovely, Stacey - @princessmisery666 - honestly she’s amazing // all mistakes are my own.

A/N: Well, it is finally here, the end of this series - I didn’t expect the amount of beautiful feedback I have received. I hope you enjoy the ending to this instalment. Thank you for sticking with me!

Catch up with the series here: Misconceptions Series List

Return to Firefly’s Library & Masterlist

Y/N sat in the back of the car whilst Bucky joined Steve up front, the conversation faded as they drove further away from the apartment and towards the quinjet. She glanced out the window, her mind clouded with her feelings for Bucky once more.

She thought about what happened in the kitchen; the warmth and laughter, Bucky’s lips on hers. Subconsciously, her index finger dragged across her bottom lip, a small smile growing at the thought of what it could have led to. She hoped that he’d pulled away because of Steve, that he had closed himself off as soon as their bodies untangled.

They drove up the ramp of the quinjet, the jolt knocking Y/N’s head against the window with a slight thud. She rubbed at the sore spot and unbuckled her seatbelt, before she reached for the door handle, it was opened by Bucky. Y/N slipped her hand into his outstretched hand and climbed out of the car. As she glanced up at him, his soft blue eyes held her gaze, she was lost in his touch and bright eyes.

Steve’s fake cough had them both turning to him, “Come on, we need to get back and, Y/N, we need to talk.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped at Steve’s words; she knew she wasn’t in trouble, but she didn’t need a guess to figure out what it was about. She could have compromised the mission, and that was not a good situation for any agent, let alone amongst the Avengers. She dropped her gaze from his and her stomach fluttered painfully, the nerves slowly gripping a hold of her chest, as she followed Steve.

With the door closed behind her, she followed Captain America to the desk he had leant on instead of sitting behind. She took a seat and with an intake of breath began recounting the events that led to Bucky’s rescue. As she spoke of Davenport, her stomach lurched at her stupidity for being caught up in her own head.

“Fury will put you on recruit training, you know, that right?”

“Yeah, I know, I'm not daft.” Y/N scoffed and shook her head, “It’s for the best, I could have compromised the mission, and someone could have gotten hurt, or worse.”

The facade of Captain America disappeared as he sat in the chair beside hers, giving her shoulder a squeeze and a light smile. Y/N relished in his reassurance and support.

Steve’s smile widened, “Let’s go up front, I’m sure Bucky will like the company.”

The compound was alive as Y/N, Bucky and Steve walked through the doors of the common room. Pizza boxes were being opened; beers passed around. Movie night. Y/N’s heart sunk as she realised there wasn’t going to be a way for her to escape and talk to Bucky if they entered the event.

Y/N turned to Bucky, ready to say or drop a hint to get out of there but without warning, Wanda had grabbed her hand and began dragging her further into the room. She glanced back to Bucky, but he’d disappeared. Her stomach flipped and her anxiousness about not being able to talk to him seeped to the front of her mind.

“Are you okay?” Wanda whispered and perched on the bean bag in front of the spot Y/N occupied on the couch.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just-” Y/N’s thoughts flashed to Bucky, the uncertainty of where she stood with him, it was gnawing at the edge of her enjoyment of their moment in the kitchen.

Y/N’s heart dropped at Wanda’s blush, fear of being outed by her telepathy had Y/N stammering out her words “Oh gosh, Wanda. Please don’t-”

Wanda shook her head as she grabbed a slice of pizza, “It’s okay, I’m sorry, I wasn’t prepared to block it. But you know, I keep other people’s thoughts to themselves.”

“Oh, baby girl, whatcha thinking about?” Sam teased sitting on the armrest and pulled her into a side hug. He kissed the top of Y/N’s head then joined Nat on the corner sofa opposite.

Y/N shook her head, changing the subject, “So what disaster of a movie are we watching?”

“It’s my choice doll, and it’s not going to be a disaster.” Bucky sat beside her with a bowl of toffee popcorn resting in his lap.

“It better be good Barnes,” She smirked at him, taking a slice of pizza from Wanda’s box and munching away. She hoped Bucky couldn’t hear her heartbeat quickening at his closeness.

The opening sequence of The Mummy began; Pyramids and statues of Anubis coming into view as the camera panned and the Medjai Chieftain began narrating the story of Imhotep and Anck Su Namun.

Y/N’s head snapped to Bucky’s; he’d picked one of her favourite films. One she had mentioned in passing many months ago. Y/N’s cheeks ached from the grin she gave him before nestling deeper into the cushions.

Soft giggles and lip bites were exchanged over the bowl of popcorn each time their hands brushed whilst diving for a handful of the sweet treat. Bucky pulled a blanket over their legs, inching closer to Y/N, his thigh resting against her own, the warmth radiating between them and calm washing over them at the slight touch.

Y/N was glued to the television as Evelyn read out the words from the Book of the dead. She jumped as the mummified corpse of Imhotep was awoken and screamed. Subconsciously she grabbed Bucky’s hand tightly, her eyes widened at the absentminded reaction. She glanced between their joined hands and Bucky’s face. His soft smile and gentle squeeze of her hand was enough to settle the panic that had begun to rise.

Bucky raised her hand to his face, pressing his lips softly against her skin. She almost shivered from the connection, his ocean eyes swimming with adoration and a hint of teasing. If Y/N and Bucky had been aware of anything outside of their bubble, they would have noticed the side glances from their teammates.

They would have noticed them gradually leaving, and by the end of the film, they were alone. Well, almost alone, unbeknownst to them, the team had set themselves up in the surveillance room. They had a perfect view and sound of the two shy friends snuggled up together.

“This isn’t right,” Steve shook his head and gestured to the screen, “we shouldn’t be spying on them.

Nat raised her brow at him as she curled up on the sofa, “You joined in on the bet, Rogers!”

Sam’s laugh echoed around the room, “Steve, you can’t back out of this now. It’s gone on for too long and they need this little push!”

Steve sat beside them with a sigh, handing them a beer from the cooler they’d prepared earlier, “I guess all we have to do is wait.”

Y/N leant forward, body tense as she watched Beni being surrounded by the scarab beetles whilst Evelyn, Rick and Jonathan escaped the collapsing temple. As Rick pulled Evelyn into a kiss, riding on a camel and off into the sunset, Y/N couldn’t help but compare them to her and Bucky. Dancing around their feelings but being there for the other when it mattered most. She remembered the tingle of Bucky’s lips against hers and she wanted, more than anything, to do it again.

The credits rolled, she stretched out her legs and glanced around the room, realising it was empty. She’d been so engrossed in the movie and Bucky’s touch that she had no idea how long they had been alone for.

“When did-” She started.

“About half an hour into the film.” He chuckled, “They tried to be subtle.”

Y/N turned to him fully, hand still in his, a slight frown, “What do you mean?”

“I think they’re waiting for something to happen between us.” Bucky’s thumb rubbed the back of her hand. She watched the way it glided across her skin, hands that could be brutal, hands that killed, but now, they were so tender, it brought a blush to her cheeks.

Bucky stood up, pulling her with him, her body moulding to his. His beard grazed her cheek as he leant to whisper in her ear, “I think they’re watching, the cameras moved earlier. They might have bugged the place too.”

Y/N gasped, from the warmth of breath that curled around her neck, it wasn’t just the audacity of her friends. She pulled back slightly and looked up at Bucky, “And I can easily guess who’s involved; Sam and Nat.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his arms wrapping tighter around her waist, “Steve is most definitely involved, the punk doesn’t know when to keep his nose out of other people’s business.”

Y/N’s mind whirled at the thought of them spying on her and Bucky. At least now, she thought she knew where she stood with Bucky; his film choice, the hand holding, his unreserved mention of something happening between them, and now, the way his Vibranium hand caressed the small of her back and the other gripped her hip.

She looked up at him, almost losing herself in the warmth that filled her chest at the sight before her. His happy smile swelled confidence in her and she smirked, “Wanna give them a show?”

His grin blinded her, “What are you thinking?”

She bit her lip, “Maybe something a little dramatic?”

Bucky dipped her down, his lips hovering above hers, “How dramatic? Just a little or are you all in, doll?”

“I’m all in.” She grinned back at him as his lips descended onto hers.

Sam charged down the hallway, “This is not happening! I forbid it.”

He was followed by an equally angry Natasha, “I cannot believe them. What on earth are they thinking?”

Steve was a few steps behind with a disappointed look on his face as they pushed through the doors and into the scene that they’d seen unfold before them; Y/N stood with her left hand in Bucky’s, the other clasped around her mouth, and Bucky kneeling before her.

Sam glared at them, arms flailing around, “You are not getting married.”

Everything Taglist: @reann-loves-sebstan / @aroyaldarknessblr / @thefridgeismybestie

Marvel Taglist: @natasha-danvers

Misconceptions Taglist: @supraveng / @iheartsebastianstan / @jessyballet / @likeit-or-leaveit / @insposcollective / @ladifrickinda / @wintersoldierissucharide / @michelehansel / @danietoww04 / @booboobella01 / @thefandomimagines / @justreadingfics / @socalgem1124 / @a--1--1--3 / @notyourtypicalrose / @winterboobear11 / @justlovelifeblog / @polireader / @hailmary-yramliah / @rainbowkisses31 / @gooddaykate / @moonybarnes / @samthemarvelfan / @unlikelygalaxygiver / @youaremyfiveever / @hennessy0274-blog / @hola-mishamigos-its-marvel-time / @babydollofbarnes / @bonkywobble / @weird-mumbling / @mela-nichen / @beardburnsupersoldiers / @chubby-dumplin / @chewymoustachio / @supernaturalwintersoldier / @marveloust-dog / @runaway-escape / @berenilion / @peaceinourtime82 / @buchanansebba / @awkwardbisexualsworld / @auskitty / @amythedvdhoarder / @kitkatd7 / @bitchacho25

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Series #Bucky Barnes Fic #Bucky Barnes Fluff #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes Angst #Bucky Barnes Fic Series #Bucky Barnes Fanfic #Bucky Barnes Fanficition #Bucky x Reader #Bucky Fic #Bucky Fic Series #Bucky Series #Bucky Fanfic #Bucky Fanfiction

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

Text

Spirit Bright and Beautiful

Written for @starkbucksbingo and this means a bingo for me! See below the cut for bingo details

Also on ao3 here

He has a safe house.

Of sorts.

Not really a safe house. It’s an office space under construction, abandoned when the project ran out of money. Still, it’s safe and the important part is that it has a view of the tower and so James can see the Avengers when they’re coming and going. He can watch what they’re doing—not when they’re in the tower itself because the windows are tinted—but he can see when they leave and where they’re going. He never follows them, not with the Black Widow and the SHIELD agent on the team. But they don’t usually go far unless it’s a special event or a mission and if it’s a mission, James wouldn’t want to follow them anyway and if it’s a special event, he can usually watch it on the shitty TV he stole out of someone’s garbage.

James prides himself on being impossible to sneak up on. HYDRA’s training was good for that at least. So he hears the light steps coming up the stairs. He hears and he tenses because he doesn’t recognize those footsteps. He doubts it’s HYDRA—they’re usually heavier—and he doesn’t think it’s the Black Widow because he thinks he could count himself lucky if he actually heard her coming and she’s out on a mission right now anyway so that means it’s someone else.

Someone, who is apparently huffing and complaining about damn super soldiers who could do this without even breathing hard and—

A face with fluffy brown hair, big and warm eyes, and the most ridiculous beard James thinks he’s ever seen pokes its head around the corner.

“Freezer Pop?” the face asks and James suddenly recognizes it as belonging to Tony Stark, Iron Man, one of HYDRA’s do-not-engages long before he became a superhero. “Bucky Bear, you in here?”

He shouldn’t give away his position so easily. Then again, Stark is a friend of Steve’s and he remembers Steve. He’s not sure if he’s ready to see Steve again but he at least knows he’s a friend.

“What’s a freezer pop?” he asks, voice rusty from disuse. He emerges from behind one of the plastic sheets, flicking the switchblade he’d been holding closed. He doesn’t use guns anymore, can’t stand the sight of the things, and it’s not like he can’t defend himself with just a knife anyway.

Stark’s eyes dart to the knife, skitter away to take in the sight of the construction. “It’s a snack,” he begins and then stops, biting his lip to stop himself from saying anything else. James can’t help but wonder what he’d been planning on saying. “Is this where you’ve been staying? Cause I’ll be honest with you, this is…not great.”

James huffs out a laugh. “Better than the street,” he says and doesn’t say that he’s been on the street before.

Stark seems to hear it anyway though if the way his mouth twists is any indication. “It’s not like you’ve only got two options here,” he points out. “You could—”

“I don’t want to,” James interrupts, already feeling the panic creeping up on him. “I don’t—I could hurt—and Steve—”

He almost doesn’t see Stark move and his hand twitches for his knife before Stark stops only a few feet away from. The panic comes on fast and heavy then, overwhelming him. When did he sit down? When did he scramble backward from Stark sitting as well? When did—he tucks his head between his knees, screaming to drown out the static in his head.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to become James again but when he raises his head again, he thinks the light has shifted. Stark is still sitting there though, still a few feet away, silently tapping on a tablet. He looks up when James uncurls from his ball, putting the tablet down beside him.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Stark says quietly. “I know I can be an asshole but I really didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I didn’t think you did,” he rasps.

“I know you’re not ready. And I don’t really blame you. But Steve and the Murder Twins are out on a mission for the next two months and Sam is still in D.C. and Bruce and Thor are at their love nest in Greece that they think I don’t know about.” He rolls his eyes and the corner of James’ mouth twitches in a smile. “I’m just worried about you.”

And that—that’s just—“No one asked you to worry about me,” he points out.

Stark nods. “I know. But you can’t stop me from doing it anyway so here, I wanted to give you this.” He slides the tablet across the floor, stopping only when it taps against James’ foot.

He picks it up slowly, reminding himself that Stark wouldn’t kill him, not with a tablet leastways. “What is it?”

“Videos, mostly,” Stark says with a deceptively casual shrug.

“Of what?”

“The team. J says you’ve been watching us for a while and he’s pretty sure that you’re looking to see if it’s safe to come in, which I doubt you can figure out from watching the outside so I brought you this so you can watch the inside too.” He frowns. “That came out wrong. Look, I’m scared of Natasha too so I don’t blame you so I just thought maybe you’d like video of her throwing cereal at Clint because he drank all the milk.”

He unfolds his legs and stands up. “I’ll leave you to it. Just to warn you though, I’m coming back tomorrow with dinner. Gotta do something while I’m benched.” He taps his side like James is supposed to know what that means and then disappears before James can ask him either about his ribs or about the mysterious J.

True to his word, Stark is back the next day with something in a large paper bag that smells so good it makes James’ mouth water. He’s been eating mostly day-old sandwiches from the sandwich shop next to the office building he’s staying in and frankly, he’s tired of it but he’s not willing to go any further than right next door.

“You watched any of it?” Stark asks him, tossing the bag into his lap.

James fishes out two containers of what looks like spaghetti and a smaller bag of breadsticks. He sticks one of the breadsticks in his mouth so that he can avoid saying something when he nods.

Stark gives him an amused looks and then waits for him to finish swallowing before saying, “What did you think?”

…He doesn’t know what to say to that.

He’s been watching and he’s seen what Stark had talked about with the Black Widow throwing cereal at Barton. And he’s seen Dr. Banner trip over the god’s hammer and not even turn a shade before yelling at him about leaving his things in the halls. And he’s even seen Stark and Steve cheerfully bickering with each other—and that’s barely even a fraction of the videos on the tablet he’d been given.

He sees all of this but it doesn’t really make sense in his mind at the moment. Where are the fights? The arguments? The full-on hatred that expresses itself in sneers and glares?

“It’s fine,” he mutters. “Looks nice.”

Stark frowns but he doesn’t press the issue. For that, James is grateful. He still doesn’t have all of his memories back but he’s pretty sure that if it were Steve standing here in front of him, he’d be a lot pushier about this. Stark, though, Stark just sits down next to him and chatters about how much it sucks that he cracked two ribs and so he can’t be on the mission with everyone else. He doesn’t mind that James doesn’t do anything but sit next to him and eat his spaghetti. He talks enough to fill the entire room on his own.

It’s kind of nice.

The thing is, the Avengers are apparently nothing like HYDRA. They actively seem to like and trust each other. Their playful ribbing is nothing more than silly banter. Their light touches are warm hugs and not backstabbing embraces. They have movie nights and game nights and morning yoga sessions and in between it all, they hang out together and laugh and talk and love.

The thing is, Tony is warm and cheerful and lovely. James can’t remember the last time he thought that about anything, let alone a person. But as Tony comes over every single evening with delicious food—never homecooked because he says he can’t be trusted around a kitchen—and talks about everything and nothing all at once, James finds himself relaxing more and more around him.

The thing is, Tony clearly loves the team, treats them like they’re his family. He buys them extravagant gifts and goes shopping with Natasha and helps Bruce with dinner preparations. He spends hours in front of the TV with Clint, throwing popcorn at the screen during trashy soap operas. He poses for Steve’s art and he never complains when Thor hugs him just a little too hard.

The things is—if Tony can just choose who his family is, then maybe James can too.

“The team comes back next week,” Tony tells him one night.

James nods slowly. He knows. He’s been keeping track of the days ever since that first night when Tony had told him they would be gone for two months. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, they should be back in five days.

“What do you think?” Tony asks. “You’ve seen the footage. You know what we’re like. You ready to come out of the cold yet?”

It’s quiet for a long time. James’ stomach growls, reminding him that even though he’d polished off the serving Tony had brought for him, he’s still hungry. He had been eyeing Tony’s food up until this question (truthfully, he’s still debating tugging it closer to him; Tony never minds) but he wants to think about this first.

Tony waits for him patiently, still doesn’t push. He loves that about him honestly. He’s thought before that he liked it but he thinks now that it might go deeper than that. His…feelings for Tony as a whole might go deeper than that. And if that’s really how he feels, then he thinks there’s not a whole lot he wouldn’t do for Tony.

“Maybe,” he says eventually, still turning the idea over in his mind. “’m still a little scared.”

Tony nods and stands, dusting his hands off on his jeans. The movement startles James, who was expecting that Tony would be there a little longer yet. Did he say something wrong? Did he make the wrong choice? Did he push Tony away finally.

But then Tony reaches out a hand, holding it out for James to take. “Come on, James darling,” Tony urges. “Come home with me.”

James doesn’t really know where home is anymore but, as he grabs Tony’s hand and lets him pull him up and guide him out of the room, he thinks it might be with Tony.

Title: Spirit Bright and Beautiful Collaborator Name: iam93percentstardust Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26044267 Square Filled: G1 - Chosen Family Ship/Main Pairing: Winteriron Rating: G Major Tags & Triggers: Panic attacks Word Count: 2k

#alle writes #winteriron #starkbucksbingo2020 #long post #if you like please consider reblogging

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werezmastarbucks · 4 years

Text

boston

honeymoon masterlist

word count: 2538

music: savage streets by perturbator, you’ll only be safe with me by tuff turf, dark all day by gunship

You stood on one knee, feeling Kai’s fingers under your belt as he held you. You shoved out of the window half way, and yelled,

“I’m good!”

He pushed the gas pedal into the floor, and the car roared angrily, tearing through the night mist.

The black shadows surrounded you, floating out of the metal and brick twilight of the street so suddenly fear shot through you like lightning. You held up your shotgun and aimed, trying to balance with your hip on the frame of the window. Falling out of the window would mean imminent death: zombies were everywhere. They were waiting on the corners, in the windows of the buildings, hiding in the shade, behind the smelly dumpsters and in the middle of the road. As the city lights died out, and the car raced deeper into the district, golden and silver changed into cold blue and electric, the colors of docks and warehouses.

“I got them!”

“Shoot!” Kai yelled.

You exhaled and did not inhale, because the best snipers don’t breathe when shooting. As the monster truck passed by the cluster of black silhouettes, you fired three rounds into them, scaring the gathering and hitting one of them. Then you fell back into your seat and pulled your hair away from your face. It will be a bitch to try and brush after. The car drove out into the narrow quay where black water lay like glistening dirty skin, and Kai’s face was yellow in the passing bleak lights.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, poiting at the figure on the roof on the left. He slowed down a little, and you looked back to make sure nobody’s following you. You set the shotgun on your right.

“It’s Jeepers Creepers”.

“Wha... Y/N. What is Jeepers fucking Creepers doing at our zombie apocalypse?”

“I don’t know, Kai”, you snarled, “maybe he launched it. How am I supposed to know?”

“You’re driving me crazy”.

“I am afraid of Jeepers Creepers, okay? He’s gonna be the final boss”.

“I’m gonna tear his balls off”, Kai mumbled.

“He’ll take yours. That’s what he does”, you reminded him.

Kai snored.

“Get up. There’s more. They must have circled the parking lot. Look”.

Right in the middle of the road, where yellow fog was floating in the air like phantom veil, and the asphalt glistened, sweaty after 10PM rain, the black shadows barricaded the road. Kai stopped the car, and the low grumble slowly faded into the quiet, monotnous howl of the city. Somewhere, trains were moving to and fro on the rails, colliding with each other, creating noise. The factories were working, sending black smoke into the opaque sky, clogged by unwilling cigarrette clouds. The river itself, it seemed, hummed something very low, like a deadly lullaby. This world was a hostile and lonesome place. The only warm thing in here was Kai’s body sitting next to you, radiating humanity. You jerked your shotgun. You knew he was seeing exactly the same thing as you did - a bunch of zombies swaying slowly in your direction. He turned up the music a little.

“Ready?”

“Yeah”.

“Aim better or else we’re gonna drive in circles all night”.

“Don’t tell me how to kill zombies, Kai”.

He mimicked you, starting the car.

Next night, it was his turn, and you did the same thing, racing through the night city, crashing into cardbox fortresses and blowing up the glass forts, shooting the heads off the zombies, until you both have had enough of that zombie apocalypse world. It has been some time until you got tired.

(To get into the right mood, you have occupied the Columbus Movie Theatre for like a week, rewatching zombie movies. Turned out, you can’t just walk into a movie theatre and find all the zombie films piled up neatly in the movie room - or whatever it’s called. You have argued about them again and again, Kai insisting on Evil Dead being immortal classic, but the Day of the Dead was his all-time favorite. You nearly got into a fistfight with him over the Return of the Living Dead.

“Of course”, he puffed and laughed out, condescending as hell.

“What’s that laugh?!” you demanded. Kai shrugged.

“It’s such a girly thing. Return of the Living Dead. The third part is also your favorite, isn’t it?”

And he gave you the nastiest look. You narrowed your eyes.

“You bigot. You absolute fuckface. The first one is my favorite”.

He was enjoying himself too much, obviously agitated by the topic, not entirely there.

“Okay, okay”.

“But for the record, yes, I do think that the third part is the best love story I’ve ever seen on screen. It’s incredible”.

Kai nodded, the smile never leaving his face.

“She managed to fight off her cannibalistic instinct not to hurt the person she loved. She tore herself with needles and hooks to fight the urge to kill him and actually managed to keep him safe although she was literally a flesh eating zombie. How cool is that?”

Kai sighed and looked you in the eye.

“Very cool’, he said, with the tone that screamed ‘you’re silly and I adore you’.

“What other movies came out this year?”

“Not many, it’s only May”, he replied, digging deep into the box with films.

“Is Dream Lover out yet?”

“Yep”.

“We should watch it”.

“Later”, Kai said, throwing a film across the room and allowing it to crash into pieces. You hoped to hell it wasn’t Dream Lover.

“And Freddie Krueger?”

“No, not yet”.

“Damn it”, you looked over his shoulder.

“No Freddie Krueger!” he announced, “that’s it, she draws the line at Freddie. We’re leaving now”.

You laughed.

In the dark movie room, you could choose any row, any seats. You nested against each other, honoring the sacred cinema theatre tradition to gently touch in the twilight. While the action unfolded on screen, you had to shove popcorn into Kai’s mouth because it was the only way you could make him stop talking. When you ran out of popcorn, you had to shut him up with your mouth. It was a great week.)

You looked around the street and then, at Kai. How lucky he was, to find himself in this wretched place with someone as willing to play zombies as you were. You should do it more often. Maybe you should act out Mist next, somewhere in Houston.

You pulled your backpack up, and your eyes darted towards the black tower, ominous, insidious without any light, like a gigantic grave stone. Before Parker cut all the electricity, it was the Hancock Tower, now, it was just Tower. And the path to it lay through the dangerous city filled with brain craving monsters, bloodthirsty, dumb and ferocious, and you were running out of bullets. Besides, earlier on, you fell through one of the cardboard box forteresses and bruised your knee so badly, together with your left hand which you landed on. This adventure would be the death of you.

Kai twitched.

“I hear something”, he said, cocking his gun. You stood behind him, one-handed, unable to shoot. You closed your eyes. Lo, if they attack from all directions, you won’t be any help. A wounded companion is worse than an enemy in this world. You wondered if Kai would leave you alone to be eaten and stall them, or whether he’d shoot you in the head first, to spare you.

He walked on a little, entering a small square, and the black outlines of hairless, clotheless humans frightened you like you weren’t the one who had put them there ten hours earlier. They spooked you every time.

Kai shot three times, hitting each mannequin with one bullet.

“On the roof!” you pointed, turning back. You bowed as he threw up his shotgun, and fired. Heavy plastic body hopped and rolled down, falling on the ground. Kai could see in the dark so well you had to remind yourself he was human. Sometimes you would forget that fact completely. He was so different from everybody else.

He led you towards the tower where you stabbed one of the zombies in the throat. He was good at shooting, but you were very gifted with stabbing. You never missed.

“God damn”, Kai panted, as the mannequin swayed and collapsed on the asphalt just next to the glass door he was holding for you, “you saved my life”.

He took you in the movie gesture, pulling you into a long kiss. Your wrist started swelling and you had to take off your electronic watch temporarily. In the bleak room, it shone with green thin neon light from the bedside table while you had sex on the matrass.

In the middle of the night something fell off the roof, and scared the hell out of you - for real this time. You did not put anything on the top of the Tower since it was your fort. In the morning you came up on the top, while Kai went down and examined the object. Turned out, on the tenth of May, 1994, one single bag filled with files and staplers fell off the roof of the Hancock Tower. There was no way of knowing why.

“Wake up”.

You opened your eyes and rubbed your neck, aching from sleeping on the single mattrass on the floor. You looked out of the window. It has just stopped raining, which meant it was already close to midnight. In the dystopian Boston, you have switched to night regime of living completely because in the daylight, mannequins randomly standing in the streets looked simply stupid.

“The Titans”, he said. Kai’s face was so close to yours, you could feel the words on your skin. His eyes shone nervously.

“What Titans? It’s zombie apocalypse, Kai”.

He frowned.

“And what was Jeepers Creepers doing there then?”

“Oh my god”, you groaned, “let go of it already! You killed him like a week ago”.

“Come on, see for yourself”, he pulled you up, and you walked to the window, and gasped, instantly feeling for Kai’s hand. It couldn’t be happening.

That’s it! This madness finally drove you... mad.

There was an actual silhouette, the one you didn’t put there, and possibly couldn’t. The one that could not be put there for the life of you. The one of proportions too great for anyone to put it in the middle of the city, one foot on the right side of the river, and the other, on the left.

“What the fuck!” you yelled, your fright real as ever. Kai grinned happily, but then his face changed back to the philosophical expression of impending doom.

“This is it, Y/N. The zombies... and that dude... were just omens, but that’s it. The sky people have come to destroy us. It’s the end“.

“Seriously, Kai, how did you put it up... there?”

The sky was blackish-bordeaux, like usual. The river was seen just fine from here, from the top floor of the Tower. You had a pretty good look on the gloomy city and all its post-war industrial charm. The figure was so big it stood almost above the Tower itself; he reminded you of the Colossus of Rhodos, the Bronze Man, or one of the mythical golden gods of ancient times. You could actually feel your heart trying to break the hell out of your ribcage in a desperate attempt to kill itself. You couldn’t breathe for a second, mortified by the size of that thing. It was one of the deepest nightmares of your childhood, one of the visions haunting you from when you were little and kept dreaming about the end of the world.

You told Kai about those, and he now used them against you, but you appreciated the performance. It was all almost like art. It was horrifying and great, but you hated it.

“He came down from the clouds”, Kai said quietly, like a dispassionate narrator. Who already knows what’s coming, and doesn’t give a shit, because he’s already dead.

“To press the earth into the core of the planet, and make all life perish. He shall walk the land... waging his wrath on all that breathes. Including you and me”.

You made an effort to turn away, mesmerized by the statue, and looked at Kai.

“How much magic have you wasted on it?”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t break the character, it takes me a lot of concentration”.

“Sorry”, you whispered.

“How do you feel about facing the end of the world with me?” he asked.

It was a damn good question. Parker really did ask all the right questions. After all the time in post-apocalyptic Boston, surrounded by enemy, living in a dark den and barely seeing the sun, it was very easy to actually sense the end coming. You clutched your own elbows, thinking. Strangely, you weren’t scared anymore.

A part of his face was in the shadow. He blinked the way you’ve only ever seen Kai blink, just a little, as if he didn’t want to lose visual even for a split second.

“I’m okay with it. I have lived a fine life, in my totalitarian city, guarded by robots and...”

“...zombies...”

“Hunted down by Harrison Ford...”

“You just jumble together all the movies, it’s actually insane, stop it”.

“But now as Cthulhu has sent its warriors...” (Kai rolled his eyes), “I’m ready to go”.

A lonely honk of a train cut through the distance making you feel melancholic. The trains were just crawling there day and night, filling the air with their lonesome cries occasionally. It would make any reasonable person go crazy, too.

“What will be the last thing you do before you die?” he whispered, his nose almost touching yours. You gave in, hot slow lava crawling up your body. You took Kai’s waist, trying to feel his ribs through three layers of clothing.

“You”.

He probably wore three or four shirts just to see you go nuts as you tried to undress him every time. His street jacket goes, then, a pullover, then a shirt, then another shirt, and you groan with anger as he chuckles at you, his hands snaking under your clothes at once. Your skin went shivering, covered with goose bumps under his fingers, like by magic.

As he pushed you against the wall, the gigantic Titan started melting above the river, looming shadow stepping away from the city, which was flattering. Kai’s whole mind was directed at you now.

You thought about how one loves at the brink of extinction; is it passionate, like when Kai grabbed your shoulder, your hair, pounding you into the floor, or is it gentle and thoughtful, like when you only moved your hips slowly, pressed against each other like two halves of Oreo, or is it impatient, breathless and vile, like when he was fucking you against the wall, talking all the way through your whimpering?

It took the end of the world for you to end up on his dick.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries imagine #tvd #vampire diaries

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kanene-yaaay · 4 years

Text

Go Virge, go!

Kanene’s note: TODAAAAAAAAAY IS A SPECIAAAAAL DAYYYY!!! DO YOU KNOW WHY?? THAT IS RIGHT! BECAUSE TODAY IS @why-not-a-tickle-blog BIRTHDAY!!!! Gooooosh!!!! I know I already did a whole speech before, mah friendo, but you’re just so amazing and lovely! Aaaaaa I’m happy for being your friend! <33

Okay, I got a little carried away! Enjoy the gift! x3

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Thomas Sanders and his series Sanders Sides!

* This is a SFW Tickle-Fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* Oneshot. Something around 3.800 words.w-)b. Lee!Virgil and Ler!Patton in Human AU.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Since it’s a gift: Essa fanfic não será traduzida, mals. Thankys for reading, my lollipops, especially you, Livvy!! Have a wonderful and incredible day just like you!

[~*~]

Patton was confused. A lot.

And that wasn’t even a whole brand-new thing in his life.

Patton got confused quite frequently, being honest.

He got confused when he accidentally fell asleep on the couch and woke up four hours later with all his house painted in the dark of the night and without a single drop of memory about where he is or who he is for some minutes. Patton got confused when his attention was caught in some adorably adorable video of kittens being the best thing in the world and quickly ran to Virgil’s room just to show them to him, not understanding why his friend can’t stop looking at him quizzically until Virgil finally asks why does he has a spoon in the knot of his cardigan and Patton jumps because HIS COOKIES ARE IN THE OVEN AND HOW MUCH TIME HAD PASSED-

Oh. Wait. That is not what he was talking about. Focus, focus!

Anyway. Life is confusing, feelings, thoughts, actions, trying your best, keep going, look at the refrigerator just to realize you have no idea of what you were supposed to be searching in the first place, humans…

Yeah, especially humans.

Patton stared at the figure of his friend laid on the couch, absently looking at his phone while a piece of smile adorned his face. The movie both decided to watch paused in the background as the one currently in the kitchen waited for the popcorn get ready, his hand held lightly his chin and a frown rest peacefully in his features, mirroring the same expression he always saw on Logan every time he was confronted by a problem whose solution seemed impossible to find.

It was The Pose of all the incredible genius in the world, right? Therefore, in some moment about now the answers of all his questions should magically pop before him, unfolding and refolding in logic patterns just like in all the mystery series and books.

Right about noooow…

…

Now?

…

Well, it didn’t work.

Patton pouted, turning to pour the warm and probably delicious snack in big bowls that both would pretend they wouldn't be able to finish before even getting in the middle of the so expected movie. He grabbed the bowls and headed to the other room, reprising the entire day in his mind, a faint echo of Logan saying that could help basing his decision.

Everything started in the morning with Patton arriving at their breakfast table only to find Virgil, but not his usual Virgil.

That was a Virgil without his hoodie.

Not that it was a totally strange thing! Usually by his free mornings he would prefer to wander in the house on his comfortable pajamas, however the thing today is… he wasn’t on his pajamas. He was prepared to fight the world – actually Virgil was just going to work, but he said this sounded more badass - on his black Slipknot shirt, jeans and the hoodie nowhere near to be seen.

Besides that, today was predominantly cold. Cold enough for the one wearing glasses end up missing his favorite cat cardigan by the time he arrived their house, searching for the so dearly craved cloth in every little corner until Patton came across the scene of his friend - his best edgy, lovely friend cutely wearing it and being equally playfully bratty when tried ask it back, pulling out his tongue out as his form dazed in a chase the moment Patton’s promise of ‘physically fight for it!’ – which was a lie, obviously. He gave up the vestment the very moment his eyes locked in a Virgil playing with the cat ears sewed in it – flew from his mouth.

And, after getting tired out, they cuddled! Okay, this wasn’t nearly a strange occurrence between both, albeit was one of those rare moments when Virgil was the one who initiated it, laying on his lap with a pout and a sharp look, as if he dared the other to say something (and Patton didn’t!! He swears!! Squeals. Do. Not. Count. As. Words.), feeling comfortable enough to even start a Poking War as they were accommodating themselves on the cushions, rays of giggles, squeaks filling the place for some heartbeats before both decided to metamorphose their last bit of routine into a movie night.

Which was exactly what they were doing!

Now, don’t get Patton wrong. He was absolutely delighted by everything! Knowing Virgil felt comfortable, safe enough to act nonchalant around him was so heart-warming he could almost feel himself melt in happiness!

….But…

But there was this signal in the back of his mind. A particularly different gleam in the other’s eyes he had already seen before, however couldn’t quite place its meaning yet. Some words unpronounced amongst his lightly snarky demeanor. Some little thing that made Patton feel playful and happily bubbly as well, except he couldn’t really grab the exact information, the exact why or the exact memory.

Not yet, at least.

[~*~]

Virgil was about to fucking quit it.

No, actually, he was about to fuck quit everything when he woke up of his incredibly, horrible, wonderfully teasy tickle dream. The tingles of the dreamy tickles still ghostly buzzing on his body as he quietly giggled, burying his face in the pillows and kicking about everything on his bed, eyes firmly closed as the memories bathed his mind in a flow made to increase awfully his lee mood.

And then one of his favorite artists posted some new things on Tumblr, which obligated him to see all their new posts and, who knows, accidentally click in the tag ‘My arts’ of them, which end up with him re-finding other works he had already forgot about, path that consequently leaded to some more reblogs and therefore another bunch of tickle blogs which, of course, made his lee mood at work almost unbearable.

At least he had the cold to blame if someone questioned about the persistent blush spread on his features.

After everything, finally: The calm and quiet of home, broken by his determined decision to try to make – somehow - Patton tickle him. His friend was soft and playful by nature, and he already knew Virgil liked tickles (quite of an interesting story involving a meme, a movie and the power going out. Heh. Do not ask about it.) so, I mean, the worst part was already gone, right? It wouldn’t probably be that bad. Virgil would just act naturally, smoothly following a few advices he found in some blogs discussing this topic and hope, for the sake of his life, the Universe wouldn’t follow Murphy's Law for ONCE.

Of course, that didn’t happen. OF COURSE.

Virgil tried first to be a bratty. He stole Patton’s cardigan and even ran across the house in an attempt to maintain his new possession. He stretched while laid in Patton’s lap: no hoodie, ticklish spots right there. In the last shot he even let himself giggle every single time his mind wandered to the dark corner designed especially for the subject. The one wearing smudged make up even started a poke war!! A poke war!! What kind of poke war doesn't evolve to a tickle war where he would, so sadly and despise his best efforts, lose spectacularly??

He crossed his arms and DID NOT pout, blowing grumpily some strands of hair that fell in his vision’s field.

“I would sell my soul for a tickle.” Virgil growled, his usually careful façade crumbling under the quite persistent thoughts of fingers spidering on his ribs, counting each one of them before lazily dragging the tip of the nails to his quivering tummy, dancing and poking unbothered by his squi-

“What was that?”

Virgil squeaked, jumping some centimeters in the air when the voice of his approaching friend filled the room, the words getting stuck in his throat, his head shooting in the other’s direction, wide eyes.

“What.” He eloquently offered.

“I was too far, didn’t hear what you said, sorry. Could you repeat, please?”

Virgil tried – failing - to not blush. Patton was… actually being serious, right? That wasn’t any kind of tease, even if the traitor little demon he usually called brain unhelpfully unlocked all the memories of all the tickle fanfics he read that began with that exact same words. “Nothing. It was nothing.” He promptly ignored the way his voice came out slightly high.

“Oh, okay!” Patton kindly smiled, putting the popcorn on the coffe table and looking for some space on the couch to lay down while Virgil pressed play, the show’s opening quickly filling the air and silence hanging between both. Patton stopped. Suddenly Virgil felt a shiver run across his whole body, his gaze turning to his friend, only to find the one wearing glasses staring at him intently.

“You like tickles.”

The word only was enough to jolt his body back to a sitting position, butterflies starting to wake up, proceeding to fly the most desperate as possible in his stomach, his brain fuzzing, crumbling for answers of How and When and What the Fuc-

“What? NO! I mean, yes but how- when did you just…”

“Oh!” Patton gasped and Virgil felt his whole face in flames once the realization of the shiny gleam in the other’s eyes, almost as literal stars shining, hit him. Maybe… Maybe something he had done before finally work? “That is why you initiated a Poke War? Were you trying to make me tickle you? Vee, you just needed to ask!”

Yep. No. Nope. No way. That was definitely worse.

Virgil tried to hide himself in his hoodie, deciding he could very much rather perish in his Lee Mood than stare at the pure love and awe gazed right in his direction. His lips curving in a shadow of a smile for a second when he pressed himself further on the furniture, noticing with a grumble leaving his mouth the only armor he owned was the cat cardigan. Hood pulled up and his face firmly pressed on his knees, he ignored the way his excited giggles started to bounce and dance in his throat, resulting in his own body bounce a bit.

“Knock knock…” Virgil felt a light tapping on his knee.

“Fuck off.” The hissed answer ran without letting he even think about it, too much occupied in pretending to not notice how much this position left his entire tickl- I mean, sensitive torso vulnerable and how much not seeing what was happening increased second by second the tingles and shivers crazily racing in his skin.

“Gasp! Virgil!” The one dying in the cat cardigan internally rolled his eyes at the literally audible gasp his friend vocalized, almost being able to see the playful mood taking over his expression as it always has when they swore around him. “I should tickle you for this, Mister Potty Mouth!” Yes. Yes!! Come on, come on! “But I won’t.”

Hey now, what.

“What?!” His head shot upwards absurdly fast, a fact which, obviously, he would deny it to the end of his living and non-living days.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide or ignore your desire for tickles every time you have them! Especially…”

‘Please – see? I know how to use some freaking good words. - Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say, Patton. You’re cool, you’re a funny guy, you have good intentions but you have any ideas of what the fuck will happen??’ Virgil found himself almost pleading, the sentences already running in his head, but his lips firmly gripped in the fear to let out more than these simple words.

“… Since I’m totally okay in tickling you! Oh, wait. Did you just squirm? Aww, Virgil!! That is so, so adorable! You’re blushing, too! Awwwwww!!! Okay, okay, okay, I’m… Imma gonna die of cuteness. You’re truly the most precious being I’ve ever met!!! Wait, what I was just saying…?”

‘I will die! No! I’m already dying! See? You already accomplished what you wanted!! Let’s move on to the next damn part!’

“Oh right!” Patton lightly hit the side of his head. “I’m glad to tickle you! Truly! All you have to do is…”

‘Dude, Patton, Pat-Pat, Popstar don’t…’

“Ask me! Please, please, please!!” Virgil stared him dead in his eyes, crossing his arms, his cheeks so hot that he was surprised his face didn’t melt yet. “Aw, don’t give me that look, kiddo!” Virgil just narrowed his eyes further. Patton pouted, his ‘Puppy Eyes’ expression – more like an unfair weapon - showing and nailing cracks on Virgil’s resolution.

They stayed like this for a while, until Patton abruptly lifted his hands, his fingers wiggling on Virgil’s direction, the movement so out of blue that catched his friend out of guard, a true yelp jumping from him before he grumpily growled and let himself fall on the cushions.

“I can’t.”

“Of course, you can, kiddo! I’m rooting for ya! Wanna see?” And then he started to fold and unfold his fingers, approaching them to Virgil inch by inch “Go Virge, go! Go, Virge, go! Goooo, Virgeyyyy, go!” Inch by inch. Close and then even closer. The boy with a wobbly smile in his face felt like he couldn’t tear his eyes from the movements, the butterflies seeming to freak out in his stomach in the rhythm of the cheers.

He hides his face behind his hands. Patton was going to be the end of his existence.

“Stohop it.” Dammit. He was breaking.

‘Come on, guy! You can do this!’ He internally whined.

“Ooh, is that a beauty giggly giggle what I hear? The cheering should be working then, don’t you think?! We believe in you, Virge-poo! And we can’t wait for when we…” Virgil dared to spy the scene between his fingers, only to see Patton’s hands barely touching his sides, his fingers positioned in a claw shape. “… getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha!!” They suddenly moved, clawing unbearably away and terribly close at each couple of words.

No. Virgil did NOT squeal nor squirmed closer to the fingers. Fuck you. Nobody asked. That is none of your business anyway.

‘Just… just don’t think about it! Pull it off. Like… I don’t know! Like a stupid band aid!’

“It is going to be so much fun! I didn’t even tickle you yet and you’re already giggling excitedly! Think in all your wonderful, beautiful laughter flying everywhere when I finally tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle you silly!! You’ll be giggling up a storm! Happy gasp! Pun inserted!”

Virgil obligated himself to take a deep breath and not stare the warm, teasy hands which were oblivious of the intern turmoil caused as they rested on his sides. Their tips very lightly, almost impossible to feel and – even more difficult to ignore - poking the ticklish skin, as if they simply couldn’t bring themselves to stay still. The one laid on the couch and yet hiding his face felt the urge to kick just to get off all the pleasantly nervous energy building up in his body.

“Virgey-wiggly-wiggley…~”

“TICKLEMEPLEASE!”

Patton squeaked excited, the teasy grin immediately giving space to the joyful smile. “Of course!” He grazed his fingers up his sides to his ribcage, the nails lightly drawing circles around each one of the ribs, receiving a quick tasering in the middle of them before going up to the next one, letting for a piece of moment Virgil’s bubbly and more high-pitched giggles fill the room alone.

The cat cardigan owner ran the tip of his fingers up and down, up and down, up and down his sides, watching in complete awe the way the other squirmed at each infinitesimal move. He stopped the movement on his right side, his eyes gleaming behind the lenses as accompanied Virgil adorably wiggling away from the reminiscent tickles, as if he tried to escape from the evil fingers scribbling in that exactly spot which connected his left side to his tummy and leaded cute, sweet titters escape from his gigantic smile.

A devious plan shinned in his head.

Patton ceased the tickling in order to give him a breath, smiling at the pout that didn’t take too long before blooming in the other’s features.

He quickly poked his left side, immediately hearing quiet, bubbly giggles dance across the air as Virgil wiggled to his right, only to be warmly welcomed by scratches of one single finger on his lower back, making his breath stop so fast a snort escape. Virgil widened his eyes, his hands automatically clapping in his mouth at the same time a big, gleaming grin took over Patton’s expression. They stared at each other, fingers never stopping, squirms never ending.

“No.” His voice was slightly wobbly, giggles beginning to intertwine his words as his friend scribbled softly again. “No no no! You are a- dON’T!- such a dork!!! No!!”

They initiated the cycle again. Every time Virgil squirmed to escape from the left tingles to the right tickles one more finger was added to the attack, soon leaving the blushed poor victim kicking sporadically when the ten fingers resumed their light, tickly attack. “I’m going t-t-to kick you!!” and then was subdued to the snorts and squeals painting his fast titters.

The one who wore the cat hoodie which moments before had slipped from his head in the ““fight””, now showing clearly the red strongly flaming his cheeks and the tip of his ears shook his head from side to side, the frown he tried to form being immediately won by the smile taking over his features. Virgil let himself embrace the feeling completely over, laughing freely, almost doesn’t believing this was actually happening.

That it didn’t matter how much he tried to escape nor squirm, the tickling just followed his movements, just as all his (fake) protests didn’t stop the excited, evil teases pouring from the other’s mouth. Not to tell how only the big, happy gaze from Patton was definitely not helping in the slightest his current state at all!

He was certain. There was no way out of this. He was going to melt and d i e.

And he was loving every single second of this.

“Aww! Tickle, tickle, tickle, Virge!! Look at the happiness shining in your face!! Someone really, really loves some tickly-tickles, am I right? But don’t worry, Virgey-wiggley! I will give you all the tickles you could ever want! Like here!” He booped Virgil’s bellybutton “Here” A couple of fingers slid on his waistline “And here, and here, and here and everywhere!” Fingers flew quickly, traveling on his hips, collarbone, sides, behind his ears…

The incapacity to know where Patton would strike next killed every single drop of coherent thoughts of his mind, which could only focus on the tickling and how much it was unbearable and everywhere and it t i c k l e d . His giggles grew to chortles, his hands flying from his own face to lightly push Patton’s, dislocating his glasses and freeing surprised chuckles mixed with his own squeaks.

“Virgil!!” Patton ceased the playful attack in order to retire the other’s hands off his face, before both knew they’re wrestling, laughter cutting their acts and weakening their movements. “Virge!! I will go to another spot this way!”

In a blink of an eye one of his friend’s arms hugged his sides and Patton felt a malefic grin crawling his lips without even noticing its presence. Very much different from Virgil, who in the same heartbeat realized his mistake, using the opportunity of the instant of distraction to lightly push the cookie lover off him, quickly dashing across the house. All his instincts gleaming and sparkling the sign of ‘Survive’ in his veins.

The only reason of what Virgil forgot about the numbness from spending so much time laid on his legs, resulting in trips that definitely made him lose some crucial speed as he encircled the couch, capturing with the corner of his eyes the scene of Patton jumping of the cushions and following his escape route. The crackling dancing in the air owned by nobody specific.

His heart beat faster, the joy raced his nerves and made his tummy tingle in advance just for imagining the exact moment where two arms would hug him firmly yet gently from behind and his ears would be set on fire the very same moment Patton would say-

“Gotcha, Giggly Storm! I gotcha, gotcha ya!!” Patton dug his thumbs right above Virgil’s hips, the remaining fingers clawing the poor, sensitive skin in his back, leading belly laughter to took over his friend’s sentence, his knees buckling and legs uncontrollable kicking as Patton sat with him on the floor, pressing his back on his chest and resting his head on his shoulder.

“Patton!! Pahahatton, come on, no!” Patton just hummed, two fingers calmly walking on Virgil’s waistline. “Don’t you dare!! Don’t you fuckin- gah!” The nails began to slid in the length of the belly, going from a side to another as elected soft snorts and bouncy giggles.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle, Virge!! Did you thought you could run away from the Tickle Monster? Poor unfortunate soul ~. Now the Tickle Monster has to give you a bunch of more ticklish tickly tickles just for this, don’t you think?!” And then Virgil felt the tickles speed up to scribbles and clawing and wiggles delivered in every inch of his tummy. Going in random patterns, drawing forms on his sweet spot, up and down, from a side to another, over and over again. Quick enough to make him sporadically squirm and kick, a rain of squeals, yelps and squeals flowing from his lips, yet soft and light enough to let him rest his head on the other’s chest and just enjoy the feeling.

“Awww! Look at how much shaking your tum-tum is! It is probably so happy in receiving its so much craved tickle tickle tickles, right, Virgey-poo?” The answer was only a blushy Virgil hiding his face on Patton’s neck, giggling nonstop.

“Nonono!! It’s not!” And, if that move only led to a now very exposed neck to be gifted with some special scratches? They both pretended it wasn’t on purpose.

Patton just rolled his eyes, playfully exasperated, quietly chuckling when the other jumped with the quick squeeze delivered on his hip.

It didn’t take long before Virgil let out his first ‘Stop’, which Patton happily obliged, don’t having the heart to move when he realized Virgil’s breath becoming calmer, his eyelashes closing as he snuggled closer to the one wearing glasses.

The duo knew very well they would probably regret napping on the hard, cold floor later, yet none of them managed to bring themselves to care, especially when Virgil’s quiet snorts with the second tickle dream of the day lullabied Patton to an equally peaceful dream.

[~*~]

Random non-said thing: Patton only remembered that information because the movie they’re going to watch was one of the trilogy they were watching when Virgil gathered up enough will to tell him he likes tickling.

#Happyyy dayyyyy <333 #Sanders Sides tickling #Kanene's fanfic #Kanene's Au #Lee!Virgil #Ler!Patton #I just realized the title sounds like that cartoon Go Diego go. Not changing it looool xDDD #Ticklish!Virgil #Soft and Playful tickles #Cute #This is so cute because they're precioooous #Tickle fic #Tickle fanfic #Kanene's Art #Sanders SIdes Human AU #<3 #<33 #I really liked writing this one <33 #Sanders Sides tickles

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grumpyhedgehogs · 4 years

Text

tangled up in your old bedsheets

Summary: Fabian wraps Riz in his sheet a lot, The Hangman is strangely jealous all of a sudden, and Riz figures some things out on his own.

It takes maybe a lot longer than it should for Fabian to understand exactly what’s happening with the whole “wrapping Riz up in his sheet all the time” thing. In his defense, there’s a lot of shit going down when it first happens. Riz has just been revivified only to be kicked off a fucking cliff by Kalina and the world is in peril and Fabian is stretching, stretching, stretching, to reach Riz before he’s lost to him forever. So when the fire elemental snags the goblin out of the air and kisses his cheek and Fabian curls his best friend into himself, swaddling him like a newborn, the half-elf doesn’t think much of it other than thank the gods you’re alright.

But then it happens again. And again. And again. And no matter what, even when Fabian doles out gifts and aggressively supports all his friends, Riz is the only one who ever seems to end up wrapped in Fabian’s sheet.

Fabian realizes this the summer after sophomore year and then aggressively stops thinking about what it could mean.

When the Night Yorb is defeated, Riz dies again. Thankfully Kristen is standing right next to him when he goes down so their rogue isn’t out for long but Fabian feels it deep in his bones. He sees the light go out of Riz’s eyes, watches, like he had just last spring, as his best friend falls, limp, to the ground. He sees him die and is unable to do anything about it. Again.

That evening, they have a bonfire. The final showdown had happened on the beach, where the Night Yorb had been ready to extend its power from the shores of Solace to Leviathan to Fallinel and beyond until the Bad Kids stopped it.

Now, Kristen and Fig are teaching Ayda how to shotgun a beer with mixed results. Adaine and Aelwyn are curled together, Aelwyn already trancing after using every ounce of her abjuration magic to keep her sister from being completely obliterated in the last ten minutes of the battle. Gorgug had almost immediately been mobbed with invasive, uncomfortable relationship advice from the Seven Maidens, who had come to help in the last fight after Riz had cracked the code which revealed the location of the Night Yorb’s power source with Zelda’s help. The half-orc seems fine, if a little overwhelmed by their chattering--Zelda is at least acting as something of a buffer.

Fabian and Riz had been side by side to strike the finishing blow to the Night Yorb when it went down. He’d turned and looked at Riz and had seen the bruises and the blood and the lines of pain in his face and had pulled out his sheet without hesitation. Riz hadn’t even pretended to protest.

Now, as they sit in the shadows, the fire’s light flickering over the bags under Riz’s eyes and the hollows of his cheeks, Fabian doesn’t pretend to resist the urge he has to pull the fabric tighter around Riz, tucking it between his arms and chest so it can’t pull free when the goblin shifts. He’s pressed up against Fabian’s side, half on top of him as Fabian drapes his arms around him and pulls one knee up against his back. His other leg extends out towards the fire and they’d both kicked off their shoes like everyone else had a long time ago. He digs his toes into the cold sand and lets it remind him he’s alive. They have survived.

“You know, I’m not actually that cold,” Riz mutters. His ears are drooping with exhaustion. Fabian hums and leans his chin on the crown of his head. Riz’s hair smells like seasalt. “You could take your blanket back now.”

“Battle sheet,” Fabian corrects absentmindedly. “You uncomfortable?”

“No.” His voice is so soft. He wriggles one hand out of the sheet--Fabian feels an unhappy rumble begin in his chest--and curls his clawed fingers around Fabian's hand, splayed in the sand beside Riz’s sheet-encased hip for balance. Fabian tightened his grip immediately. The rumble dies in his throat. “No, I’m not.”

“Good.” Fabian tugs the sheet just a little more, secures it, and rests.

It happens when they’re not in mortal danger or coming down from a battle high, too. The first time Fabian notices it--and when he notices Riz noticing it--is movie night. All the Bad Kids as well as Ragh, Tracker, Ayda and Aelwyn are gathered at Mordred Manor, sprawled over couches and armchairs and across the floor. Fabian is cuddled up to Aelwyn on the couch, Adaine on her other side, when he is chosen to be the first sacrifice in the name of snack refills. Naturally, he tells everyone goodnaturedly that he hates them, and goes.

Fabian isn’t even really thinking about it when he does it.

He comes back and sets the popcorn in Tracker’s lap and hands the sodas out and then he realizes that his spot next to Aelwyn has been filled by Fig, who is sitting with Ayda in her lap and very much not paying attention to the crystal screen. Both Abernant sisters do not look like they appreciate this development, but neither are very likely to say anything in the name of keeping the peace.

So Fabian shrugs and begrudgingly lopes over to the cushy armchair with the winged back where Riz is curled up with his knees to his chest. The Ball looks up, startled, but doesn’t make a sound when Fabian picks him right up, plops down in the armchair and then sets The Ball down beside him. Without even really looking away from the movie, the half-elf digs out his sheet and unfolds it, letting the sparks settle before he spreads it over both of them. Riz is wedged between his left thigh and the armrest, small enough that he doesn’t have to fully sit in Fabian’s lap to share the space. He does have to lean into Fabian’s side to see the screen around him though; Fabian feels more than sees The Ball glance at him out of the corner of his eye. His tail slaps once, twice against Fabian’s side, and Fabian drops his arm onto The Ball’s back in response, quelling the detective’s squirming. The Ball leans harder into his side and mutters to himself.

“What?” Fabian asks, defensive and not really understanding why.

“You know you could’ve just asked to sit down,” Riz says. What he means is, what the fuck, Fabian?

“Can we just watch the movie in peace, please?” Fabian replies. What he means is, please don’t call attention to this.

Riz shuts up. They watch the movie in peace.

Fabian catches Aelwyn looking at him that night, a strange gleam in her eye; it’s the one she gets when she’s mastered an overly complicated piece of magic that’s been elusive for a long time. Fabian shifts, but doesn’t let go of Riz, who is tucked even more tightly into his side as the night wears on, his head on Fabian’s chest and the sheet tangled up between them.

He shakes it off; there’s nothing here for Aelwyn to understand.

Nothing.

After that, it’s just an easy way of keeping track of Riz. The rogue has such high sleight of hand and stealth; he’s really a menace to society. Fabian is doing the authorities a favor, honestly. It also helps him get used to how to whip the sheet in a non-lethal capacity, teaches him how hard to snap the fabric around someone’s ankle to send them careening back to their spot on the couch, or how to flick it around their waist to pull them back to his side without leaving bruises. He even gets good enough to snag Riz’s tail and yank him back from the curb when he went to step into the road without looking up from his clues, which is probably the coolest thing Fabian does that week.

Riz complains and pouts and never tells him directly to stop, which he would if it were a real issue. But since he is a gentleman first Fabian asks, just to make sure.

“I don’t--really mind, actually,” Riz says haltingly. The tips of his ears are slowly turning turquoise. Fabian is extremely interested in this development. For science, of course. “It’s nice, knowing--uh, knowing you’re there to, like, catch me. If I fall. Or something. And the elemental keeps the sheet really warm, so. It’s nice. I don’t mind.”

Fabian grins, and something strange and pleasant settles in his chest.

The first time he really has to confront the idea that maybe it’s not just Fabian being paranoid about the amount of time he spends wrapping Riz in a sheet is when Aelwyn breaks up with him. It’s been coming for a long time, so obvious it’s like staring down an oncoming train. Aelwyn is trying to be kinder now, has been working on being gentler with people, and so of course she comes to their meeting at the ice cream shop with a delicately worded bullet point list on why they can’t be together anymore.

“And really, we did both acknowledge exactly how unhealthy for each other we are when we got into this,” she finishes, looking up at him over the rims of her new catlike glasses. She and Adaine match now. “I mean, I very explicitly stated how bad an idea this was and you agreed.”

“Yeah,” Fabian says, because he did. It still doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

“Honestly Fabian, sometimes I--I wonder why you even said yes in the first place. It’s not like you don’t have another, probably better, option hanging around all the time.”

He has no fucking idea what that’s supposed to mean. “I have no fucking idea what that’s supposed to mean.”

Aelwyn looks at him, shrewd and calculating, and then sighs. “Men. You’re all so useless.”

“Hey,” Fabian says, halfhearted. She just broke up with him; it’d be nice of her to display a little consideration.

Her mouth presses into a thin line, and even though he knows she’s not happy about this either, Fabian gets the distinct feeling she’s laughing at him. Just a little. “How come you never wrap me in your sheet?”

“Wh-what?”

“You always wrap Riz in your battle sheet. Constantly. I’ve counted three times this week, Fabian, and it’s only Thursday. How come you never wrap me in your precious battle sheet? I was your girlfriend up until this moment, wasn’t I?”

“I have no idea what The Ball has to do with you breaking up with me,” Fabian tells her honestly.

“Everything, my dear.” Aelwyn says as she stands and tosses a five dollar bill on their table in Basrar’s. “Absolutely everything. Think about it.”

The Ball has nothing to do with this.

“You have nothing to do with this.” Fabian tells him when Riz rushes into his room in Seacaster Manor, armed with dvds and ice cream and a grim expression Fabian recognizes from the moment before he ate Kalvaxus’s face off.

“Well if you didn’t want me here why did you call me?” Riz asks, looking affronted. He takes a step towards the door but wavers, looking back and forth between the hallway beyond and Fabian’s teary, red face. “Look, I wanna help, but if you need some time alone--”

“No! That’s not what I meant.” Fabian flaps one arm at him frantically. “I just-- it’s just stupid, never mind, just get over here, The Ball.”

Riz dumps the items in his arms and bounds over, sympathy leaking over his expression. He stops by the foot of the bed which is too far away and Fabian would roll his eyes and whip the sheet out for him if he weren’t already wrapped up in it and trying not to look like he’s been crying for the past hour and a half. He has not. He has only been crying for an hour and twenty minutes, thank you very much.

“I’m really sorry, Fabian,” Riz says, soft and kind and what Fabian needs to hear and what he wants none of at the same time. “I know you really like Aelwyn.”

Something in The Ball’s expression shifts, a little, drops down and gets even more serious and Fabian feels that instinctive, commonplace need to know more about him. Fabian fails an insight roll though, and shakes his head. He reaches out again. “Just, just come here, The Ball, gods--”

“I’m standing right next to you--” is all The Ball can get out before he lets out a high little yelp and gets lifted into the air. He’s so light Fabian can manhandle him onto the mattress and into the sheet with one arm. Fabian wonders if he’s getting enough to eat, if he’s spiraling in his office too much, if he hasn’t been sleeping lately. After the Night Yorb incident, he and The Ball had slept in the same bed on and off, on the promise to wake each other up when they had nightmares. It was a terrible few weeks.

The only thing Fabian misses, he admits to himself as he sets The Ball down on the mattress next to him and drapes half of the sheet across his shoulders, is the warmth he woke up to every morning. Riz is a familiar, reassuring weight against Fabian’s side; he didn’t realize after the nightmares went away and The Ball started sleeping over on the weekends rather than every night how much he would miss this.

Riz is, as always, game once he realizes what the plan is. He curls up under the sheet with a familiarity that makes the pressure in Fabian’s cracked chest ease just a little. He wraps his arms around Fabian’s middle and his tail flicks up to curl loosely around Fabian’s wrist where his arm is hooked around The Ball’s shoulders. The sheet is soft as cream and silvery in the low light as it folds around them both; it is on autopilot that Fabian takes the edges of the sheet and tucks them around his friend, until they are nothing more than a weirdly shaped lump of fabric.

“I’m supposed to comfort you right now, not the other way around,” The Ball points out, humor coloring his tone even as he keeps his voice low. Fabian leans harder against him and Riz grunts.

“You are,” Fabian says. “You are.”

He’s not okay, but he will be.

Fabian gets over Aelwyn relatively quickly, which should probably be a sign of how serious he actually was about her. But there’s still something strange in not looking forward to meeting her now, after a year of striving to get information on her, a year of striving to get her out of prison, a year of striving to come off as anything besides an awkward teenage boy when she kisses him. It leaves Fabian at a bit of a loose end.

So, naturally, he makes it The Ball’s problem. Or not-problem. It’s more like a solution. He is the solution to The Ball’s depressing self-care mystery. The Ball, it is unsurprising to note, is terrible at taking care of himself. Fabian, on the other hand, has literally trained all his life to protect and fight for others; he’s gotten very good at turning this innate urge into making sure The Ball eats enough and sleeps enough and takes a goddamn break every once in a while.

Case in point.

“Come on, The Ball,” Fabian whines. “This place is honestly so depressing, you reek, and I know for a fact you haven’t slept in three days. It is time to go home.”

“My mom asked me to help her, Fabian,” Riz says. He doesn’t turn to look at Fabian when he speaks, nimble fingers spidering across a map of Elmville he has set up on the wall. There are strings of different colors connecting seemingly random locations together, but Fabian does not doubt they make sense to The Ball. It must be a serious case, anyway; The Ball only loses his hat and tie when it’s serious business. “I can’t give up now.”

“It’s not giving up. Why do you always have to assume that stopping for a little while makes everything worse?”

“Sure feels like it.”

Okay. Time to pull out the big guns. Fabian takes a deep breath and prays Riz won’t hate him for this tomorrow. “Your mom is worried about you. Again.”

Riz’s head jerks around sharply enough that Fabian winces. There’s a sharp crack and Fabian watches as the ink from the broken pen in Riz’s clawed hand drips to the hardwood. Ah, well. That’s the least horrible thing that’s stained this floor. When the detective turns to him Fabian takes a hasty step back. The slits of his eyes dilate wildly, shrinking and growing in size rapidly.

“Did you,” Riz asks deliberately slowly, “just try to use my mom against me?”

“It’s true,” Fabian protests weakly. “She sent me here when I asked where you were. She thought you were with me anyway and she got really mad when she figured out you were still working. You gotta learn to take breaks, man.”

Just like that, Riz deflates. His shoulders relax from where they’ve been hunched around his ears since Fabian walked in and his hackles lower. He scrubs a hand through his hair, leaving trails of blue ink through the strands; Fig would probably call it a look . “I hate when I make her worry.”

“You make everyone worry,” Fabian says without thinking, before backpedaling like a champ at Riz’s scandalized look. “Wait! No! I didn’t--it’s just that you make her-- and me-- but you don’t mean to so it’s fine. Is it hot in here? I feel like it’s hot in here. We should go. Let’s go.”

“You worry about me?”

It’s the quiet way The Ball says it, quiet in the way he hasn’t heard often since the Nightmare King’s Forest, that makes Fabian square his shoulders and set his jaw in determination. He rolls initiative on a surprise round and succeeds. Nat twenty.

“Right.” Fabian declares, and reaches into his jacket. “We’re doing this.”

“What?” Riz’s eyes widen a second later, though, because his insight is crazy high and even his passive rolls are ridiculous. “Aw, no, Fabian, you don’t need to get the sheet out. I don’t need the sheet!”

“It’s too late. It’s already over.”

“Oh come on man, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“It's inescapable,” Fabian flourishes as the sheet unwinds and dances before him, obscuring The Ball’s view of him. “You’ve brought this on yourself.”

Between one blink and the next, Fabian has thrown the sheet about his best friend, movements fluid and expert from so much practice. He’s sure to leave Riz’s inky hand free, but he takes care to bundle his legs into the sheet. Fabian wraps one end of the sheet around the unoccupied arm before pulling it across his body gently and tucks the other end over his chest in the opposite direction before securing the free edge between Riz’s back and his own chest.

Riz is still so light in his arms as Fabian hoists him right off the ground and into a princess carry. Riz squawks and waves his one free hand in Fabian’s face, which makes Fabian grimace and lean back. Ink splatter across the desk.

“Spring break,” Fabian says. He meets Riz’s dark eyes, something in his gut sparking and fluttering and warming him all the way to his toes. “I believe in you.”

“Spring break, I believe in you,” Riz repeats, laughing and accepting the bardic inspiration before rolling his eyes. “It’s nearly winter, you dolt.” It makes something soft in Fabian curl up tight in his chest to hear his best friend laugh, to feel it reverberate in his own arms, in his own bones, and Fabian grins right back.

“The sentiment still stands. Just because you mess up every now and then doesn’t mean that you’re a bad son, The Ball. You’re just so passionate and conscientious and you want to make sure you do your work right the first time so no one gets hurt on your watch. That’s a noble thing to do. Your mom and me worrying about your well-being doesn’t mean that you’re a bad person; it’s just a sign of how much we love you.”

Fabian takes the stairs down to the parking lot as he speaks, focusing more on his feet than Riz’s face, because if he does focus on Riz and his wide eyes and the way his pupils are really fucking dilated right now and how his dumb hair is slicked back with ink and the way his ears are twitching and how he smells like coffee beans and old newspapers, the something in his gut will come up to his chest and constrict around his heart and then he’ll do something really stupid like lean in and--

Nope! Not dealing! Fabian gets his kisses in-- got his kisses in--enough already. No need to deal with all-- this.

But then Fabian finishes his speech and The Ball makes a strange squeaking noise, and his hand comes to ball up under his own chin, and his eyes are still very wide and his face is so soft and he’s biting his lip, fuck.

Fabian’s hands are sweaty and he nearly fumbles his handful as he comes down hard off the last step, rolling a natural two on his athletics. He curses.

Sire! Are you alright? I will destroy the very stones which mock your footing until they are nothing but dust!

I’m fine, Hangman. Just tripped.

Shall we be escorting The Ball home, then?

“You can let me down now,” Riz says at that exact moment, just as Fabian goes to confirm with his bike. Whatever his expression meant before, the jolt seems to have knocked some sense into him before Fabian could roll insight, and the goblin shifts in his arms. Fabian tightens his grip reflexively, and Riz settles. “You don’t have to take me home.”

“Don’t have to?” Fabian repeats dumbly. Of course he has to! The Ball is his--his--The Ball is capable and brilliant, yes, but he is small and a rogue and Fabian is a martial class. He should be here, to make sure that The Ball is safe.

What do you mean we’re not taking The Ball home? The Hangman howls in the back of his mind. Fabian one hundred percent agrees with the bewildered sentiment.

“I have a bus pass now, I was going to take it home tonight anyway. You’re on the other side of town from me, so you'd just be going out of your way.”

Master! The Hangman exclaims, engines revving. The Ball must not stoop so low as to take the bus!

This is another development that Fabian didn’t really realize was happening until after the fact; The Hangman, for whatever reason, has gotten weirdly possessive of Riz. They’ve given more rides to the detective than the rest of the Bad Kids combined. The Hangvan has been the subject of more than a few arguments.

We are much more capable of protecting The Ball than this bus, Sire. With your battle sheet and my infernal soul, we will be an impenetrable defense!

Fabian isn’t sure what they’re defending Riz against, but he’s not going to disagree with The Hangman. They can protect Riz much better if he comes with them.

“The Hangman is right here, The Ball,” Fabian scoffs. “Don’t be silly. Just get on the bike.”

The Ball opens his mouth like he’s thinking of protesting but he’s also forgetting two very important facts: Fabian has eight points of Strength on him and has him wrapped in his battle sheet, effectively grappled. He hasn't got a chance unless he wants to take the fall damage from wrenching himself away from Fabian, which he would never do. Riz trusts Fabian.

A soft, golden glow starts up in Fabian’s chest at the thought. The Ball should trust Fabian. Fabian--Fabian wants to keep The Ball safe and warm and cared for, and like this, wrapped snugly in Fabian’s regard, The Ball is all of those things. It means a lot--so, so much--that The Ball trusts Fabian to provide this for him.

Okay, Fabian is getting off track again.

“You’re getting on the bike,” Fabian declares imperiously, and plops The Ball down on the seat before sliding on in front of him. He waits, The Hangman revving below them, until he feels The Ball curl up against his back. His arms worm their way around Fabian’s waist and his sharp chin digs into his shoulder; something in the half-elf loosens and expands and the warm glow gets brighter.

They’re silent on the drive home; he can feel Riz curl up tighter against the wind and the sheet flutters around the two of them. Sparks flicker across the fabric, retaining warmth against the night’s coming chill. Fabian purposefully drives slowly, lets the time tick by as Riz presses warm up against his back, safe and sound and wrapped in Fabian’s protection, with Fabian’s bardic inspiration flowing through him. He also purposefully does not consider why this is so very important to him.

It is only when they stop outside Riz’s apartment and he disembarks--The Hangman lets out a low rev of his engine, almost like a purr-- that they break the soft silence that’s descended.

“Back at my office,” Riz starts, faltering, as he hands the sheet back. “You said--you love me?”

Panic bursts like fireworks in Fabian’s chest. “Wh-uh?” He says. “Uh. Uh. You have ink in your hair.”

Then Fabian makes a tactical decision and runs the fuck away. It is not his best moment. (However, since Chungle-Down Bim isn’t there, it’s also not his worst.)

He is not avoiding The Ball. He is regrouping, coming up with a strategic return and possibly a retaliation for whatever weird, confusing, warm feelings Riz keeps setting fire to in his chest. This is strategy. This is war.

This, frankly, sucks. So much.

The Ball has called four times in the past week before giving up abruptly on Wednesday. It is Sunday afternoon. They usually spend Saturday night watching movies or going to Basrar’s together and then take Sunday to spar (for Fabian) and go over the latest town mystery (for Riz). They have done neither of these things; they also have not texted, spoken or passed each other on the street. Riz is supposed to come over for homework and hot chocolate on weekdays in the winter. He’s supposed to give The Ball rides home every day, to make sure he doesn’t have to walk home in the rain or snow. They’re supposed to be together--

And Fabian has no one to blame for their separation but himself. It twists his gut, seeing The Ball light up his phone so much before the calls stop and he’s left with nothing but unending silence. He can’t seem to stop trying to catch a glimpse of him in the halls at Aguefort, looking for a briefcase or a flat cap, anything, anything. But In the end, he’s the one avoiding The Ball. He’s the one not answering his phone.

He’s the one with weird feelings in his chest.

This cannot, Fabian realizes, possibly go on. He’s having trouble sleeping, and when he does he’s gone back to having nightmares about Riz falling during the Night Yorb debacle. He needs to sort this out, fast.

But Riz is a rogue and so his stealth rolls win out every damn time against Fabian’s perception, and throughout the next week there’s no time between classes to catch him and he’s nowhere to be found at lunch.

Adaine doesn’t seem too happy with Fabian either, and hasn’t since this weekend. Riz must have said something to her about him, but she relents easily enough when she sees his frantic expression.

“He’s been skipping class to work on that case with his mom for a couple days,” she says. “He--doesn’t really want to see you that much, Fabian.”

It feels like his heart breaks at that, but Fabian smiles winningly anyway. “Who wouldn’t want to see me? I’m Fabian Aramais Seacaster.”

“Son of Bill Seacaster, yeah I know,” Adaine finishes, and at least she’s got that fond exasperation back. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, Fabian, but you’ve got to fix it. I can’t take Riz moping around much longer. He’s been insufferable.”

“Leave it to me,” Fabian says with more confidence than he’s feeling, and peels out of the parking lot with a roar from The Hangman.

He thinks maybe things are going to be okay, somehow; he’ll make a suitably dramatic entrance, and he’ll say all the right things to get Riz to forget that Fabian had some kind of crisis for a week and change and didn’t bother to let his best friend in on it and they’ll go back to Seacaster Manor and watch dumb B-movies and everything will be fine and Fabian won’t have to confront this weird thing growing perilously close to his heart.

And then he steps into Riz’s office and faces reality.

“What do you want?” Fabian winces at the flat tone of Riz’s voice, the way his eyes won’t meet Fabian’s, the way he’s crossed his arms over his chest and hunched in on himself.

“I--well--uh, that is--” Fabian pauses, breathes. “I just thought I’d check up on you, since last time I was here you were about to fall asleep on your feet. I heard you were working too late again.”

Riz’s mouth is a flat, thin line. “That’s what you want to talk about? My work habits?”

“Well--I--work-life balance is a very real, serious thing, The Ball. Not everyone can be as healthy and committed to self-care as I am. I thought I would help you out, like always.” This is the part where the movie hero would puff out his chest and the girl would fawn all over him and they’d live happily ever after. Fabian doesn’t really feel up to puffing out his chest when Riz’s eyes go hard and flinty like that.

“It didn’t really seem like you cared about my self-care when you were refusing to acknowledge you loved me.”

Oh. Oh.

And that’s just it, isn’t it? The last piece of the puzzle slots into place, and Fabian is absurdly glad Aelwyn isn’t here to cast Detect Thoughts and laugh at his misery as he realizes what she knew practically from the start. Because he’d said it before--toxic masculinity is over. He’s in touch with his emotions now, and he loves his friends and he’d had a hard time showing it or saying it in the beginning but these days his affirmations roll off his tongue like so much honey so why has he had such a hard time with The Ball?

Of course. Of course he loves Riz. It’s--it’s not even that much of a revelation somehow; it’s like he always knew somewhere deep in his soul that they’d end up like this, with Riz being brilliant and brave and kind and Fabian loving him and loving him and loving him. Admitting it to himself, for how hard it has been to see it clearly in the first place, is easy. It’s like saying the sky is blue or Arthur Aguefort is insane. It’s just a fact. Fabian Aramais Seacaster loves Riz Gukgak.

He’s in love with this strange little goblin man and he’s been so dumb about it.

“Okay, okay,” Fabian says, more to himself than The Ball. What happens now? What is he supposed to do? Should he just come out and say it? Or, no, Riz might think he’s joking, or trying to smooth things over. He'd hate it if Riz thought Fabian didn’t mean it the very first time Fabian says those words. Besides, they’re having an argument--a real one, which he doesn’t think they’ve ever had--and this is so not the time. No, he'll tell him after this is over, when they’ve made up and Fabian has taken care of Riz because he does really look like hell, all bags under his eyes and stiff limbs. He needs to apologize, probably, and then get The Ball somewhere safe and warm and comfortable and then he needs to do something grand and dramatic and then he can tell Riz Gukgak he’s in love with him.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright?” It comes out sharper than he intends, but he’s dealing with wave after wave of astonishment and fear and love and he could use a bit of a break, to be honest. “Can we just forget it?” He has to get this over with to get to the next step of his foolproof, ten second plan to woo The Ball in which nothing can possibly go wrong.

“Forget it?” Riz repeats, incredulous. This is not at all going the way Fabian needs it to go. “You want me to forget the time you took back saying you loved me--when you haven’t even called me your best friend, yet--and drove off and then didn’t talk to me for a week? That’s something you think can just be forgotten? You left Fabian!”

“The Ball--Riz--”

“I’m not just going to let this go, Fabian. No. But if you think that I’m just something to be so easily swept to the side and then picked up again when you feel like it, then--then--great! Great. I see clearly now where I stand with you.”

“Okay,” Fabian declares, because enough really is enough, “it’s sheet time.”

“No, Fabian!”

Riz has never raised his voice outside of crazy group antics before. Not to Fabian, at least. The sheet flutters out of his fingers as Fabian stares, open-mouthed. His chest is cracking again, like it did after Aelwyn broke up with him, but this is worse now; this crack is not just a hairline or a fissure, but a damn canyon. It feels like someone reached inside his ribcage and scooped his heart out.

Riz’s mouth twists and he hugs himself tighter, looking as miserable as Fabian feels. “I don’t want your goddamn sheet, okay? I don’t--I don’t need you to act like I’m some kind of burden or--or--”

“A burden--The Ball--”

“Or calling me The Ball all the time!” Riz’s voice rises again. His fists are clenched now. “I’m--I’m sick of you wrapping me up like a little kid. I’m not a baby, okay? I can take care of myself. I'm fine on my own.”

“Riz,” Fabian tries again, weakly. This can’t happen. Not now. Not to them.

“I think it’s best if you leave now,” Riz says grimly, and turns his back. He doesn’t look around when Fabian closes the door softly behind him.

“I’m sorry.”

Fabian blinks.

He and The Ball only had their fight two hours ago; he’d got on The Hangman and ignored the bike's probing questions, and gone home and cried and then he’d gotten up and done what he’d thought Riz would do in his place. He made a clue board.

First on the board is the picture of himself and Riz taken the night the Night Yorb was defeated; Fig had snapped a shot without them knowing, of the two of them talking in the firelight, Fabian craning his neck to look down at a swaddled, comfortable looking Riz who was looking up at him, mouth open seemingly in mid-sentence. His hair is in his face and Fabian always looks at it and remembers how seconds afterward he’d reached up and pushed the curls out of Riz’s eyes gently. That was the end of the summer--it’s the middle of winter now. He’s been in love with his best friend at least since then, maybe before.

Next on the board is his half of the best friend necklace; he’d actually stolen it out of Riz’s briefcase on their way to fight the Nightmare King. It was after Fallinel, when he was getting back to himself, reinventing how he saw the world. He’d wanted to know--to have something, just a small thing, that reminded Fabian who really loved him. And Riz had been there.

So. Maybe he was a little in love with Riz back then, too.

The third clue was actually absent from the board, but Fabian writes it on a post-it note and sticks that there in its place; my old letter jacket. He’d gotten a new one when he’d been on the team in the beginning of sophomore year; he’d filled out too much, built up enough muscle from practice that he hadn’t been able to keep using the one his father gave him freshman year. He’d given it to The Ball because he was complaining of the cold one day and then just. Never bothered to take it back.

Riz wears it to his games sometimes. It makes Fabian--feel. Certain things. It’s fine.

The final clue is, of course, the sheet. He almost doesn’t bother pinning that one up either, since it’s pretty fucking obvious. Aelwyn could see it all just from the way he wrapped Riz up in his sheet, after all; he really doesn't need to rest of his clues to figure this out. But there’s something soothing in this, in looking at the world the way he knows Riz looks at it.

He’s just working himself up to maybe crying again when Cathilda knocks on his door and lets Riz quietly into the room.

“What?” Fabian says, because what?

Riz is biting his lip, which is entirely too distracting, when he speaks again. “I was--unfair. And a dick. And I've been--going through some stuff and I put all that on you, and I’m sorry, man. You didn’t deserve that.”

“No, I--I mean, I’m sorry too. I mean--you don’t need to be sorry, because I should be sorry. I just left you hanging and then spaced on you and I didn’t even tell you why, I just wanted to go back to normal. So I’m the one who’s sorry and you can’t take that from me. I’ll fight you if you try, just so you know. Stop being sorry.”

And just like that, the corners of Riz’s mouth turn up which is a relief because Fabian love him and just figured out that he’s maybe been in love with him for over a year, but he also knows that even before he knew he was in love he’d have done just about anything to make sure Riz never looked as sad as he does right now. He’d kill to put a smile on Riz’s face.

“I don’t think you can just have a monopoly on apologizing, Fabian,” Riz says and the way his name sounds out of The Ball’s mouth, gods, how did Fabian not realize this sooner? “I’ve just been--I’ve been dealing with a lot and you’re my best friend, man, and I just...It sucks not talking to you.”

“Yeah,” Fabian agrees. “It really fucking does.”

And then, opening his arms tentatively, “Can I?”

Riz’s face twists horribly then, and Fabian’s heart has just enough time to sink to his stomach before Riz throws himself into Fabian’s arms. Fabian holds him and holds him and doesn’t ever want to let go now, he’s got Riz and he’s pressing his face into Riz’s hair and lifting him up and holding him close to his chest and Riz is wrapping his arms around Fabian’s shoulders, claws scratching at the back of Fabian’s neck, he’s whispering into that twitching ear, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” and he loves and loves and loves and he doesn’t know if it’s supposed to hurt so sweetly but it does.

“I’m sorry, gods, I’m sorry,” Riz babbles into his shoulder and Fabian wants to tell him to stop but he’d have to interrupt to do that and he can’t, not when he knows Riz has such a hard time with the idea that his friends don’t listen to him. He folds at the knees instead, takes Riz with him to the ground and cradles him like something precious because that’s what The Ball is and has always been, precious and so important and, if he has his way, Fabian’s. “I’m sorry I acted like you didn’t care, I know you do, I just don’t want to ever make you feel like you have to do everything for me, like I’m weak or less than or like I don't get that you have other things, other people to take care of--”

And then Fabian does interrupt because like hell is he letting this slide. “Stop it, stop, I know you’re strong and you’re brave and you’re so smart, Riz, gods, you’re brilliant. I just-- I wanna take care of you, I know I don’t have to but I want to, I love to, I love you, I'm in love with you and I want to take care of you, please.”

It’s only when Riz rears his head back that Fabian realizes what just came tumbling out of his mouth.

“Oh, shit. Uh--I wasn’t supposed to say that yet.”

“Yet?” Riz squeaks and fuck it, Fabian decides. Fuck it all. In for a penny, in for a dime.

“Yeah, yet,” Fabian rushes. His fingers clench and release the fabric over Riz’s spine rhythmically and he can feel the goblin shivering against his chest and without thinking Fabian pulls down his sheet and wraps them both in it. Riz’s skin stands out dark and forest green against the silvery material and he hopes he likes it, hopes it is soft and warm against the thin, fragile surface of Riz’s cheek because Riz is so good and Fabian loves him and he deserves nice things. “I--I was gonna make a plan and strategize and not tell you until I’ve done at least three heroic deeds in your name, dude. I had so many ideas.”

“Ideas?” Riz’s voice is faint.

Fabian nods solemnly. “There were also schematics for a dramatic duel on the clifftops, but we’ve already done that a couple times, so I scrapped it.”

“Too much of a Nightmare King-Night Yorb repeat.”

“Yeah,” Fabian nods. “Exactly. So uh. Just. If you could pretend I haven’t said that yet, I can get on the heroic deeds and we can revisit this. Conversation. Uh, later.”

“Right,” Riz says, nodding slowly too. “Or we could, like, do it right now. Since I'm in love with you too and everything.”

Fabian’s brain stops working.

“Oh.”

“'Oh?' That’s it?”

“I, uh, didn’t plan for this.”

“You didn’t plan for me maybe liking you back? Dude, everybody knows already.”

Fabian draws further away at that, blinking wildly. (His hands stay on Riz’s hip and back because he’s got him now, he’s got him, Riz is in his home and his arms and his heart and wrapped in Fabian’s protection and he’s never leaving if Fabian has anything to say about it.) “Everyone?”

Riz scuffs the back of his neck and his ears are turning turquoise again. “Uh, yeah, man. Adaine told me if I complain about how much I like your eyes to her one more time she’s gonna get Fig to hex me. I um, I thought maybe you were doing the whole sheet thing to, like, let me down easy. Make me see you didn’t think of me as more than like, a kid or someone who needs your help or something.”

“Oh my gods. That is so dumb,” Fabian blurts, because what the fuck, The Ball, seriously. “That is so dumb The Ball. You’re so dumb.”

“Gee, thanks. I really feel like you love me right now, just so you know. Just overwhelming amounts of love pouring out right now.”

“Oh shut up.” Fabian says, laughing. “I wrap you in my sheet because I love you, The Ball. Like, more than I think I’ve ever liked anyone. It’s how Aelwyn knew we were over.”

“Huh?”

“She broke up with me and told me I never wrapped her in my sheet because I was always doing that to you.” Fabian explains, not even bothering to be embarrassed. “Because I've been in love with you for like, forever, man. She just realized it first because I always wanted to use the sheet on you and not my own girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Riz replies, sounding breathless. All things considered, Fabian’s going to take that as a good sign. He leans in now, presses his forehead to the crook of Riz’s neck, and breathes. Riz smells like newspaper and ink and old coffee and Fabian loves him so much. He tilts his head, nosing at the detective’s collar, and slides his lips over warm skin. He lets his teeth catch there, just a hint. “Oh.”

And then, before Fabian can even move, Riz’s hand is in his hair, tangled up in the strands, and he says, very fast, “By the way I’m demisexual, it’s on the asexuality spectrum and I was also being weird because I didn’t know how to deal with how attracted I am to you!”

“Okay,” Fabian says easily, drawing back. “Do you want to have a conversation about it? Because I don’t think I’m your guy for that, but we could go to the LGBT group meeting with Kristen next week and see if they have any resources. Jawbone could probably help too.”

Riz’s pupils are dilating slowly and his mouth hangs open before he snaps out of it. He looks less miserable now but still unsure and it’s not a good look on him. Fabian desperately wants to erase it. “That’s it? You’re not--you don’t think I’m weird?”

“Of course you’re weird, The Ball, but not for that. Besides, I think starting a relationship--we are starting a relationship, right--” Riz nods frantically, the beginnings of a grin forming, and Fabian pauses to lean in and press his mouth to the corner of Riz’s, “with the only problem being you don’t know what to do with all the insanely hot attraction you have for me is, like, the opposite of a hardship, dude.”

He stops then, considers, and then something terrible occurs to Fabian. He pulls even farther back and splays his fingers across Riz’s chest, feels his heart rabbiting there under his fingertips, and says quickly, “Not that I need you to have any kind of--any of that kind of attraction to me, Riz. I’d be okay, you know, with just this. Although you may have to tell me how hot I am from time to time. For, you know, moral support.”

Tension seems to drain out of Riz, has been since Fabian first started speaking, and this time it’s his turn to lean in and brush his lips across Fabian’s mouth. Fabian lets out a breath, takes in the scent of old newsprint and coffee and realizes he could die happy here. “You are, in fact, very hot, Fabian. And--thank you. For understanding. I might--I’m not super interested in sex, but. It’s a maybe. If you’d like it to be, for the future.”

“Of course I would, you’re incredibly attractive. But it’s not that big a deal,” Fabian says, and he picks them both up off the floor.

The sheet comes with them, sparks playing along the skin of his forearms but never burning him as he sets Riz down on the mattress because Riz is good and perfect and loves Fabian and deserves better than to sit on the floor. He doesn’t hesitate like he usually would now, and curls up around Riz, pulls the sheet over them both, encases them and pulls Riz close, closer, closest. “I love you. I’m probably not going to stop saying it now, just so you know. I’m going to be very annoying about it.”

Riz reaches up and brushes his claws lightly over Fabian’s brow and his smile is so soft something in Fabian melts. “It’s a good thing I love you then, or I’d never be able to put up with it.”

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