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in-slytherin-we-trust · 4 years

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Once Upon a One Night Stand (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

-> Draco and Y/N thought they got away with it until morning comes and a small mistake gave them away.

Warning: Cursing and mature content! Read at your own discretion

This is my first attempt at smut so please don’t come at me if it’s bad 😣😅 feedbacks are much appreciated!

It started as a one time thing, an unforseen aftermath of a celebration gone utterly wrong. Y/N was feeling brave and decided to downed shots after shots of firewhiskey that Slytherin has managed to smuggle into Hogwarts for this one purpose only, an after party held at the Slytherin dormitory celebrating the end of their O.W.L. examination week.

Y/N guessed that they were feeling rather generous since they opened their door for other houses, Gryffindors included. But after the amount of stress and anxiety that they’ve all been under, a common ground and mutual understanding was formed, at least just for the night. And who is she to deny herself the pleasure of getting the full Slytherin’s legendary party experience?

And so Y/N along with the rest of the fifth year students made their descend from the Gryffindor Tower, down into the viper den in the dungeon. Slytherin promised them all the party of a lifetime and they indeed delivered. As soon as the bare stretch of stone wall opened and revealed the passage behind it, smoke invaded their noses, an unmistakable scent of marijuana mixed with cigarettes. Loud techno music blaring from down the hall.

The state of the Slytherin common room was atrocious. All the black and dark green leather sofas had been pushed back to create an empty space for a makeshift dance floor in the center, one that is already swarming with partygoers. Dancing, grinding, and bobbing their heads along to the rhytm.

So much was happening that Y/N nearly got an instant headache, each and every one of her senses overwhelmed and assaulted. Even starting to regret her decision of coming down here since she’s so out of her elements. At some point in the night, she lost sight of all her fellow housemates and that’s when she decided to just might as well get herself hammered. To take advantage of the free flow alcohol in the form of a fountain on one corner of the room. It has been enchanted so that it will never ran out.

Once the firewhiskey had settled into her system suddenly her surroundings wasn’t all that terrifying, she’s one with the crowd now. As intoxicated as they all were, if not more. She found her feet taking her to the very center of the dance floor, somewhat aware that she’s probably pulling some off beat dance moves but she couldn’t care less.

“My my.... look at you, Y/L/N. Now I can say that i’ve seen all there is to life and die with no regrets” A voice called out but it sounded like it’s coming from everywhere. It sounds familiar but she can’t put a face to it due to how out of it she was.

Y/N spun around to find the source, swaying dangerously, her balance betrayed her. But luckily solid warm hands reached out and steady her. Y/N gave the stranger a loopy grin, “Thanks... umm... who are you?”

“By Salazar, Y/L/N. How much have you had to drink? you’re blind drunk” The voice said again and is that concern that she detected in the tone?

Y/N’s eyebrows scrunched in contemplation, “I don’t really remember, I could barely remember who I am” She replied sheepishly.

The stranger snorted, “I believe it definitely takes an awful lot for you to forget me”

She threw her hands up in exasperation, “Can’t you just tell me your name already? all this thinking made my head hurts, you’re making my head hurts”

He chuckled, oh yes it’s definitely a he from the tenor of his voice, “I do love to pull your strings and make your head hurts daily, but this time i’m afraid the alcohol is to blame and not me, darling”

Y/N groaned, letting go of all efforts of trying to put her scrambled mind together, “I give up, i’m too far gone for this”

She felt the man put his hand on the small of her back, guiding and parting the crowd for her. “I think that’s enough partying for you unless you want to experience a hangover that lasts for weeks”

“Yeah I think you got the right idea” Y/N muttered as the numbing effect of the alcohol dissipate, giving way for the pounding headache to take over.

She closed her eyes, putting her chin on top of his shoulder and let it rest there. Then she wrapped her arms around his waist, hanging on for dear life. Letting him continue to navigate the both of them wherever he wishes to take her which is probably a bad idea but now the line is pretty much blurred.

When the sound of the party seemed far away before disappearing completely, she peeked one of her eyes open, finding herself standing in a different room.

Ancient four posters bed with green silk hangings is the first thing she spotted. Silver lanterns hung from the ceilings. The walls are decorated with Slytherin crests and medieval tapestries depicting the adventures of famous Slytherins.

Y/N gulped as she realized that now she’s standing inside one of the bedrooms in the boy’s dormitory. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of both hands, trying to get somewhat level-headed to assess the situation. As some sliver of consciousness creeps in, she staggered back from the person that just minutes ago she had latched herself to.

“MALFOY?!?! It’s you?” She half screamed at her silver haired nemesis.

“Geez, Y/L/N. A thank you would be nice” He replied as he rolled his eyes at her.

“And why would I do that? for all I know you could’ve taken me here to take advantage of my drunkenness!”

He faked a wounded look, “Really, Y/L/N? contrary to what you may believe in, I don’t need to take advantage of a drunk girl to find someone to sleep with”

Y/N crossed her arms in front of her chest, still skeptical about the whole thing, “Then humor me, Malfoy. Why did you decide to save me?”

“I was with Theo when I saw you all alone, dancing like a mad woman. I ought to just leave you alone but then I noticed that you’re not with any of the Gryffindorks and with the state that you’re in, you’re one step away from making a fool of yourself. Me being the gentleman that I am decided to do you a favor just this once” He answered nonchalantly, as if it’s no big deal at all and this is a typical behavior from Draco Malfoy.

Silence enveloped the room for some minutes, only the sound of the Black Lake water lapping against the windows was heard. It helped calmed some of her frayed nerves despite the laughable circumstances that she founds herself in. Y/N stared at his face and found him staring back at her, waiting to see her reactions.

“I can’t believe that i’m saying this.... but thank you, Malfoy” She finally said, giving him a small smile.

Draco found himself taken aback by her smile, she never smiled at him, until now. It made him feel all weird and mushy inside.

He cleared his throat, an attempt to pull himself together. “Do you think you can make it back to your tower?”

Y/N frowned, despite the fact that she has gained some sobriety, hauling her ass back up is too big of a challenge. With her headache and unsteady balance, it’s more likely she will topple over and just let herself sleep somewhere on a random castle hallway. Just imagining about the trip that she has to make from the dungeon to the tower made white spots appeared in her mind. But clearly staying here is not an option too right?

“I.... I don’t know” She said defeatedly, shoulder slumping like she can’t believe that she got herself into this mess in the first place.

“You know what? just sleep here. This bed can fit 4 people, we can sleep side by side without having to touch each other” Draco said, and he quickly cut in when he saw her opening her mouth. “—Spare me the arguments, you and I know you’re in no condition to make your way back safely to your dorm”

Once again she founds herself loss for words, too perplexed at how the night keeps on progressing. As hard it is to admit, but Malfoy has a point and he’s doing a huge favor for her. The least that she could do is not be a bitch.

“Okay... thanks again” Y/N said with finality, assuring herself that this is for the best.

“Good, i’m not in the mood to argue. I have some spare shirts in my wardrobe that you can use to sleep in, what you’re wearing right now doesn’t exactly make a good sleepwear” Draco replied, letting his eyes trailed over the lacey material of her crimson dress. “Not that it’s not a good one” He throwed in for good measure.

Y/N raised an eyebrow his way, a taunting smirk making its way to her lips. “Was that a compliment that I just heard?”

His only reply was a “Don’t get used to it”.

———————————————————————

Y/N opened his wardrobe, greeted with the assortment of black and green clothing, of course. The materials are all soft and light, at least he has good standards. Y/N spotted a single white shirt tucked on the back, that one’s good enough for her instead of having to endure a possible torture from Malfoy if she wears his house color. She grabbed it and make her way inside his personal bathroom.

Once inside, Y/N peeled her dress off, relishing in the feeling of the cool night air hitting her skin and the marble tile under her feet. She put on Malfoy’s shirt, it’s big enough that it managed to cover her fully, the ends settling on the middle of her thigh. The scent of his cologne enveloped her, spicy and earthy. It suits him, despite their difficult relationship she always thought that Malfoy smells bloody good. And now she’s wearing one of his shirts, life is weird indeed. After making sure all is good she stepped back into the bedroom.

Finding Malfoy who has also changed into his emerald pajamas. Merlin, he looks good. Y/N had to take a few deep breaths to settle her frantic heart. Thundering in her chest with every step that she took that brought her closer to the bed. Malfoy already lounging lazily on top of it but his eyes are closed, but she can see that he’s aware of her presence.

“Are you decent?” He asked.

“Yeah I am” Y/N replied, leaning into one side of the bed. Just one hop away from laying down beside him in the seas of silk.

Draco opened his eyes and felt his stomach drop, suddenly finding it hard to breath properly. Y/N glowed in the faint moonlight that shone through the water, the too thin material teasing him, giving him glimpses of all the curves and dips underneath as she shifts from one foot to another. Biting her lips as she waited for him to invite her up. “Bloody hell, Y/L/N. Are you trying to kill me?” He murmured breathlessly, so soft that it’s almost a whisper.

Y/N, very much aware of the power that she now holds by the looks of it, smirked at him. “Can I sleep now or do you still want to stare some more?”

Not trusting his voice to remain steady, Draco just gulped and patted the empty side of the bend, beckoning her to do as she wishes. But his eyes remained, watching her, roaming all over. As if choosing to ignore the fact that Draco’s in the verge of bursting, the minx decided to crawl her way on top of the bed slowly instead of just haul herself up like a normal person should. Draco even sent a prayer for himself so that he can get through the night.

Y/N settled and make herself comfortable, patting and fluffing the pillow for show. Then she laid down with a contented sigh that sounded more like a moan at this point. He felt himself growing harder with each passing second. Gripping the silk sheets to maintain some semblance of restraint.

“You doing okay over there?” She said tauntingly, mustering an innocent look on her face as if she doesn’t enjoy this game of cat and mouse that they’re silently playing.

Draco let out an angry grunt, turning his body to the side so that she can only sees his back. Hiding his flushed face away from her sight. Oh he’s definitely not getting any sleep tonight.

“Alright then, goodnight Malfoy!” Y/N said chirpily as she pulled the blanket to cover herself.

Draco stayed silent, thinking long and hard on wether or not he should reply, but not even a few minutes after that, he found her already asleep when he glanced her way over his shoulder. But still he offered her a “Goodnight, Y/N” despite knowing that she wouldn’t even hear it.

Ten minutes, fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes passed but Draco can only toss and turn in his side of the bed. He is hot and bothered and despite how hard he tried, he cannot ignore it any longer because his problem isn’t going anywhere.

He pulled the blanket off himself, lowering his feet to the ground, and slowly walked towards the bedroom.

He has something to take care of.

———————————————————————

Y/N found herself awaken from her sleep and she too is confused as to why. Everything is in place, there’s no sign of anything that might’ve stirred her awake.

She looked to the clock across the room, it’s 2 in the morning. As she about to go back to sleep, she heard it. A faint moaning.

Y/N turned to the side and saw that Malfoy’s side of the bed is empty, she reached her hand to touch the silk. It’s not warm anymore. Meaning it’s been a while since he got out of the bed. But it’s 2 am, where could’ve he gone to?

Then she heard it again, another moan but this time louder, needier. She recognized that voice, it’s Malfoy’s. What in Godric’s name is going on?

Y/N lowered herself onto the floor and followed the source of noise that leads her straight in front of the bathroom, the door ajar like Malfoy couldn’t care less about leaving it like that.

She steeled herself before taking a peek and the view that greeted her, made her turn a bright shade of red.

Draco fucking Malfoy, sat perch on top of the bathroom cabinet. His pants and underwear pooled at his ankle. Eyes closed and heads thrown back, mouth opened into a perfect O shape. She can see trickle of sweats rolling down the side of his head. And his hand... gods his hand... is gripping his impressive length, stroking it up and down impatiently.

“Y/N....” He moaned out. Is he really moaning her name right now?

Her mouth feels dry as her eyes roamed all over him, an ache forming in her as she takes in the look of pleasure on his face. Her own panties growing damp from arousal.

“Malfoy?” She breathlessly called out, hating how timid her voice sounds.

Draco’s eyes snapped open in alarm, realizing that the object of his desire is very much awake and standing in front of him, caught him in the middle of the act.

“Fuck, Y/L/N. I’m so sorry, I thought you were asleep and I was just.... I was just” He trailed off, not knowing what to say to get himself out of the grave that he had dug.

Y/N bit her lower lips again, a force of habit really. Gods she wants him, she wants him so badly. An internal battle is going on inside her head between her logic and desire.

“Dammit woman, stop biting your lips like that, fuck you have no idea how that makes me feel” Draco said again.

And that was it, the desperation and plain need in his voice is what sent her tumbling down the point of no return. She felt her feet acting on its own, bringing herself in front of him. Even sitting down he still towered over her.

Y/N leaned in, then whispered to his ear. “Then tell me, Draco. Tell me what you feel? what do you want?”

“I want to take you over and over again until all you can remember is my name. I want to bend you over this counter and pound into you hard, then I want you to ride me, on my bed. Watch that perfect tits bounce up and down, watch that pretty pussy gets soaked and filled with my cum”

Y/N moaned as he listed all the dirty details, how much he wants her, he needs her. Suddenly even this thin close is too much, she needs to feel him. Skin to skin, all pressed up until she can no longer differs where she ends and he begins.

“Yes...” she moaned lewdly. “Yes... please, Draco”

He cupped her chin softly, angling her face so they see eye to eye. “Are you sure, darling?”

“More than anything, take me, Draco”

And that is all the confirmation that he needs before he leaned in and kiss her, taking the time to trace the curve of her mouth. Licking, biting, nibbling. Making note of what he needs to do to earn that sweet sound of hers. To hear her beg for more.

He let his fingers trailed down, from her collarbones to the valley between her breasts. He made teasing circles around it then he flick her nipples, once, twice. Watching as it rise and grow hard under his fingers.

Then he trailed lower, to where she needs him most. A sense of pride filled him when he felt how soaked she is, she’s literally dripping. “You’re so wet for me, darling” Draco murmured as he nibble on her ear. He ran a finger over her clit, keeping his stroke light and teasing. Slowly rubbing circles that sends jolt of pleasure coursing through her. “Draco, please” She whispered out much to his satisfaction.

“What do you want, darling? you have to say it or else I won’t know” He teased.

“Dammit, Draco. Just fuck me already, I want to feel your cock pounding into me” Y/N half shouted, her insides are begging for release.

Without bothering to reply, Draco maneuvered her into a bending position, and buried his cock deep into her.

“Fuck you’re so big” Y/N moaned, letting herself adjust to his size.

“And you’re so warm and tight, darling. You feel soo good around me”

As she gave him a sign to go on, Draco slowly thrust in and out, setting a pace that droves the both of them crazy. They moaned each other’s name, over and over again like a prayer.

And true to his words, Draco took her, again and again. Made her his in every way. Up against the wall, on the bed, against the window. As if they couldn’t get enough of each other.

As exhaustion finally took over, Draco pulled her into his arms, letting her head settle on his chest. She looked up at him with those mesmerizing (Y/E/C) eyes, filled with bliss and contentment. He would bet a good amount of his fortune that his eyes mirrored hers.

“Sleep my sweet villain, my darling goddess” He murmured to her as he pressed a kiss on top of her head.

And they both drifted off to a much needed rest.

———————————————————————

Y/N stayed throughout the weekend in Draco’s bedroom, but then Monday arrived and they have to go back to reality after staying for 3 days inside their bubble.

To be honest Y/N doesn’t know how to proceed with the whole thing, what would she even do when they meet each other in the hallway or worst in class? what even are they? there’s too many questions but so few answers. And the fact that the both of them woke up late doesn’t leave much room for them to iron out the details first.

First class of the day is Potions so at least they just have to make their way towards the classroom since it’s close enough to the Slytherin dorm. Draco and Y/N got ready in a hurry and they both sprinted to Snape’s class, making it in record time. Draco let her enter the class first since walking inside together is out of the question.

Y/N made her way to her table, her Potions partner, Dean Thomas is already sitting there, and he smiled when he saw her coming.

“Morning, Dean” She said to him as she set her stuffs down.

Dean was about to reply when something caught his eyes and his face turned white as a sheet. Before Y/N can ask him about it, Professor Snape has walked into the room and took his place in the front.

His eyes roamed over their faces, making sure all is accounted for, when he stopped at her. Eyebrow raised and a look of pure judgement on his face. “Miss Y/L/N...” He started.

“—Looking at your tie, should I just assume that you’ve decided to move to my house or?” Snape said, drawling out every word.

Every eyes turned her way and as she too looked down at the source of problem, she is mortified. Her tie is green, nope not her tie, it’s Draco’s tie that she’s wearing. They must’ve accidentally grabbed the wrong one when they got ready in a hurry. As if the color isn’t obvious enough, the letter D.L.M. is embroidered on the tie in silver thread, making sure that everyone knows who exactly it belongs to.

As she glanced towards Draco’s table where he sat beside Blaise Zabini, she founds Blaise chocking back on laughter and Draco’s face is as red as her Gryffindor tie.

“And you too Mr. Malfoy..” Snape continued. “Should I have a word with Professor McGonagall about you wanting to transfer house?”

Before she can hear Draco’s reply, Dean whispered to her. “Soo you and Malfoy huh?” He asked with a shit eating grin.

“Please shut up, Dean”

#draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy prompt #draco malfoy drabble #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy oneshots #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy smut #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #harry potter smut

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shozaii · 4 years

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can u pls gib me kunikida and dazai fluff hcs? i love them sm

(a/n):hello anon! why, of course hehe🥰thank you so much for the request!

@amourzai my cielo helped me with this fic ilysm☁🌹

masterlist

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fluffy hc’s

pairings: dazai x reader, kunikida x reader

warnings: none!

dazai osamu

despite being the chaotic person that he is, dazai tends to turn into the mushy soft puddle when he’s with you. swoons around you, always shows you his best side, brags about him being better than chuuya, basically what you see him do to atsushi, but it’s ten times more emphasized and complex.😌

when he wants to confess his feelings, he does it in a quiet, peaceful place. namely, while watching the yokohama sunset. may or may not have found time to walk back home alone with you, held your hand and locked his arm around yours. “i need to show you something special, love~.”

feelings to him is something so cherished, so sophisticated and important. as a person who has gone through a series of emotions; he prefers to let them out in private.

even kneels down and asks, “would you be mine, mon cheri?” while rubbing little circles on the back of your hand.

when dazai confesses, his eyes would look directly into yours. if anything were to bother him; consider his other side to be seen. and we all know we don’t want that to happen.

i don’t know why but i always imagine dazai’s hands to be soft and delicate, and lovely to hold. (yes, i have seen too many gifs of them and i am in love) anything he does with his hands are just so attractive.

blows kisses when he’s like across you. so it becomes a series of sending each other kisses when you’re like one metre apart....and when he really does miss it, he gets up from his seat, leans over and pecks your lips real quick.

height difference is pretty obvious between him and his s/o(unless you’re super tall :0). if you were shorter, consider the t e a s i n g 24/7. if you were nearly as tall/taller than him, the floor is all yours🥴

lowkey wish i was taller rn

okay but real talk - he loves carrying you bridal style. a lot. and here’s the thing, it happens at random timing. for instance, when you’re working on your latest paperwork. during a mission (just to boast how strong he is). very unpredictable but so adorable, you can’t help but blush harder.

“osamu! put me down or else....!”

“or else what, my honey bunch?”

“you’re not getting kisses for a week.”

mans sets you down with raptor speed. unless if he’s in a flirty mood, you would see yourself winning.

yes, he loves seeing you flustered. i feel like you can do so as well - but i headcanon him winning everytime. how do you win this...? maybe kiss him when he least expects it. do it.

cute pet names like belladonna, my love, mon cheri, any new language he learns, he uses them. and if he almost forgets them(because he collects so much), he writes them down on a sticky note, and sticks it on his desk. when he goes back to the dorms, he sticks it on the wall or some place he could remember.

dates with dazai are either during work hours, or the after hours of yokohama. and he makes sure you’re going to have the time of your life on every single date; so he plans a new activity on every one of them.

when he doesn’t have the chance to do so, he pouts. but when it has been replaced with a job given by the president/kunikida, there you go. a date and mission in your hands.

he gets this rush of energy when he realizes that what was supposed to be a relaxing date out just got a whole lot better with the mission.

dazai gives kisses anywhere he likes. nose, lips, cheeks, jawline, the list goes on. he even knows where you prefer him to do so. i’m surprised that he still isn’t a psychic.

double suicide? he would never think of it. all his life, he wants to find a reason to live. he does get his reasons - one of them is you. your tears to him are anguish and heartbreak at its worst. cue you crying while telling him to stay by your side.

“please...never leave my side,” you sobbed as you buried your face in his chest. “if i can stay alive in this place we call earth for as long as possible, then so can you.”

that moved him so much. a whole lot. “oh, belladonna. don’t you ever think i’m going away.”

silence.

“not without you.”

you punched him, and he couldn’t stop laughing. but he’d stop, giving you an unlimited amount of kisses.

b a b y. dazai is babie.

kunikida doppo

oh my god we have baby number 2.

in his eyes, you were the definition of perfection. he even tries to remember exactly when did he catch feelings for you. it was totally unexpected, according to him.

cue almost all of the members of ada teasing him all the time about him finally finding his ‘ideal’ partner.

but to him, it wasn’t the ideal that mattered anymore. you outmatched almost everything he wrote down. and man, was he the happiest person alive.

how does he confess...? well wonderful question. he didn’t plan it. the members did.

maybe yosano-san called you and told you about another ‘crucial case’ a few blocks away from your completed one and ‘since you were out there, you were perfect for it.’ you agreed because why not?

meanwhile, dazai probably said, ‘this case involves yet another series of men wearing glasses - you and me must go out to end this person.’

of course kunikida goes ??? ‘where are the evidences/pictures???” but dazai brushes it off saying ‘ah~ i left them somewhere.’ to which,,,well you already know. they went out and not even a minute after, the bandaged man goes missing. with the intercom, he leads him to - you guessed it - the exact same place you were in.

‘kunikida! you’re here for the non-existent case too...?”

‘non-existent? OHMYGODDAZAI-’

the line was cut off, and he goes on and on about him, until;

‘i can never be the same when i’m with someone i obliviously like-,’

he’s a huge mess when he’s around you, trust me. so him blabbering that out loud is completely normal.

butterflies in your stomach because you’re so in love with him.

‘i don’t know if this is the right time, but our friends probably did this for us. so i hope you’d be okay if i said my feelings are mutual?”

kunikida is alright with just a little pda, maybe some hand-holding and little ruffles on your hair because he secretly loves how floofy it is🥺when it comes to kissing, the furthest he would go is on your head. nothing more, nothing less.

he needs to maintain his composure *cough* but my mans right here couldn’t, you’re just too perfect.

so when you’re two alone, expect lots and lots of wholesome kisses around your face; and also loads of cuddles. this side of kunikida is what i headcanon today, folks. the ‘soft for you’ side. he lovesss it when he kisses your forehead, he finds it so cute.

p l e a s e kiss him on the cheek, kunikida would be all over the place.

if you go somewhere on a mission with someone else, he would be on his feet. he gets so worried, thinking of what might happen. don’t get me wrong, he trusts you in your job so much; he just doesn’t want you to get hurt.

so when you do return, he’s the first one at the door.

checks if you’ve eaten, if you’ve drank enough water, if you’ve gotten enough sleep. if you’ve not he’s just going to pull you to bed, holding you tight and lulling you to sleep.

during work hours, you walk over to him, wrapping your arms.

‘y/n....we only do this after work.’

‘so you don’t want my hugs then?’

stays silent and just lets you stay there for as long as you want. he will tolerate you and you only.

kunikida loves you a lot. sometimes he might not show it, but just know that the love he has for you is drastic it tears you up.

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(a/n): i am s o r r y this took so long! ahh i’ve had so much to do and i really do hope this was worth it!

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starryevermore · 3 years

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A Gift For a Gift

I’m sorry this is so long and if you see any grammatical errors, no you don’t <3 lol anyway I just wanted to write something for you since you write so much for us! Thanks so much Kayla, we love you! (I also cannot for the life of me figure out the read more thing, so I am sorry again lol) (Kayla here! I added a read more for you 🥰)

Colby fucking hated Valentine’s Day. For most of his teenage life, if he saw those stupid hearts and those goddamn teddy bears, he was instantly in a worse mood. Most years, it made sense why he hated the holiday. He’d been single a long time, and even when he had a girlfriend, he hadn’t had the money to give his girl a proper date. He always tried, but it never seemed good enough. His mind would always go back to one year in particular where he’d tried to set up a picnic for a girl in the living room of his house. He was 15 so he had no car or money, and it was Kansas, so there was a foot of snow on the ground anyway. He’d gone all out. He asked his mom to bring home some balloons and flowers and all that gross shit just so the aesthetic was perfect. He then tried to actually cook food. Himself. At fifteen years old. For the first time. When he tells this story and says Mama Brock came running with the fire extinguisher, he’s not kidding. His mom made the meal.

At the cost of his whole day (and nearly his home), his girlfriend came over and laughed. Not in a cute way or in disbelief, but laughed in his face over his efforts. She picked apart every inch of the room he had decorated and told him it was ugly. Apparently he had used the wrong shade of red? He hadn’t realized that it mattered, but “barnyard red” was not right. She said the balloons were tacky and the flowers were meaningless because they weren’t roses. She refused to eat the meal because it was cold (since she’d shown up an hour late), and then broke up with him on the spot.

So yeah. Colby fucking hated Valentine’s Day most of the time. This year was different, though. He had met the love of his life. He was convinced you were the one he was supposed to be with all this time. He’d waited and it was worth it. And you loved Valentine’s Day. The pinks and reds made you happier than anything else. He’d never seen someone get so giddy over seeing a pink bear with a heart on it’s foot until he’d met her. Every trip to Target was punctuated with a visit to the dreaded candy section. But he saw you smile at every silly pun on the backs of the card boxes. You laughed at the ridiculous couples games. You hugged at least one bear every time and forced it to hug him too. You were happy. This time of year and celebration made you happy. And damn it that was enough to put aside his petty hatred for this capitalist cash-grab of a holiday and come up with the most kickass Valentine’s Day date he ever could.

He hadn’t realized how hard that would be. He was a hopeless romantic, but he was also hopelessly self-destructive. He would come up with an idea and every scenario started beautifully in his imagination, but every time each scenario ended with something awful. He thought you two could go to the beach, but then he imagined you falling into the water and getting salt in your eyes. Maybe you two could go to the movies, but then you could get stuck in front of two teenagers who weren’t aware that just because a room is dark, the sounds they were making weren’t audible.

This cycle went on for a long time. It took so long, he actually forgot what day it was. He’d begun planning the second February hit. He checked the calendar and realized he only had a week until The Day. Fuck. Had it really been a week? He felt like his head was swimming. His final brain cell was short circuiting and his head literally had no thoughts left in it, only fuzz. His head hadn’t felt this empty while still spinning since he’d learned about imaginary numbers in Algebra II. And he’d never actually learned imaginary numbers. Sam took that test for him. Suddenly, he had one thought.

“I gotta ask Sam.”

Sam Golbach, per usual, had about a million suggestions. Colby reasoned that since he’d had more experience having an actual girlfriend on The Day, Sam should have more ideas than himself. The only issue is that the brain cell Colby had frazzled trying to come up with a date was usually shared between him and Sam, so Sam had all of the same ideas Colby did. He suggested the beach and the movie and the dinner and blah blah blah, so Colby was literally at square one. Sam was supposed to fix all of these issues. He had the brain and the longer relationship, so what the fuck? Why had he picked this time to not have any original idea?

“Colby.” Sam shook Colby’s arm.

“Jesus dude, you scared me. What?”

“You’ve been staring at the carpet for like 30 seconds. I know what it looks like when you’re mentally drifting. That’s the only kind you can do, if our video had anything to prove.” Sam smirked, knowing full well that Colby had taken second place in that challenge.

“Shut up, dude. You had more time driving manual. I just learned there.” Colby knew his defense was weak, but it was a defense nonetheless.

“And you did well.”

“Don’t patronize me. I killed that car like twelve times. It feels like I’m going to end up doing the same with this relationship.” Colby sighed and rubbed his face. He held his hands there, flush against his cheeks. He could feel himself heating up and the cool metal of his rings, one of which you gave him, always helped keep him grounded. Sam grabbed his shoulder and shook him again.

“Would you shut the fuck up?”

Colby removed his hands from his face, side-eyeing Sam, surprised “What the hell, Sam?”

“Someone needed to say it. You’re talking yourself down again. Yeah, you killed the car. But you learned. You’ll do the same thing here. If you mess up, who cares? You tried! You need to realize that perfection isn’t attainable, so stop trying to attain it. You don’t have anything to be afraid of. Anything you do will make her happy. Because it’s you. She loves you. Any situation or plan can go wrong. We of all people should fucking know that. But don’t let fear stop you. You never have before. So what is your problem?” Sam asked, softening the harshness of some of his words by rubbing comforting circles into Colby’s shoulder.

Sam knew Colby. He knew Colby was afraid. He’d been hurt so many times, and sadly many of those times, the hurt was self-inflicted. Colby held himself to an insane standard that he’d never expect anyone else to live up to, but this was Colby and Colby deserved harsh critique apparently. He refused to let his friend scare himself into doing nothing and then letting that nothing ruin what he had going. (Y/N) and Colby were made for each other. Anything Colby did made your heart swell and just knowing he put in effort would be more than enough. But Colby didn’t know that, or rather, refused to acknowledge that. Sam was getting tired of it.

“You know her. Just do something she’ll like. Not whatever anyone tells you you should do. She loves you” Sam said, squeezing Colby’s shoulder one more time before dropping his hand to the arm of the chair. Colby smiled and looked at him.

“Thanks Sam. You’re right, once again. I don’t know how you always know what to say. I love you, dude.”

“Hold up, I’m not your valentine. I said she loved you, not me. Save all that mushy shit for her. You’re wasting your soft energy.” Sam laughed, standing to leave.

“Oh shit, you’re right. Us emo boys can only express positive emotions twice a week and I’ve wasted once on you. How could I be so dumb?” Colby shot sardonically back, returning to his computer to look up restaurants.

Sam laughed again and walked to the door. He went through and closed it behind him, but Colby knew he was still on the other side, hand on the handle. Colby turned just as Sam quickly stuck his back into the room, quickly whispering “I love you too” before slamming the door again and audibly running down the hall to his room. Colby laughed out loud that time. His friend was an idiot, but they’d be so lost without each other.

Time to plan the date Colby knew you would like, not the date that was in the movies. He still hated Valentine’s Day.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Well everything was going to shit, just as Colby had feared. He had been so proud of himself. He thought of an amazing night. First, you two were going to go to your favorite restaurant and have the meal you’d been saying you craved for two weeks. He’d even called the place ahead of time, asking if they could play your song at a certain time, since they had a live band. He may have had to use some of that influencer clout to get that request, but it was okay. Did he feel like an absolute rat that just ran through the New York City sewer system for doing it? Absolutely. Would he ever do it again? If you asked him to, probably. But not for a long time.

However, what had failed to happen was a valid reservation. It was Valentine’s Day in Los Angeles, after all. There would be no place in the whole city that wasn’t booked to full capacity. Colby knew that. That’s why he made the reservation directly after his talk with Sam. A week ago. The restaurant accidentally double booked your table. And the other couple had come before you two. Directly before you. As in they were the ones in front of you in line.

“Well, is there anything we can do?” Colby asked

“Not really, the whole place is booked all night. I’m so sorry. You’ll get a full refund?” The hostess looked down and cringed, seemingly preparing for the Karen reaction. You and Colby just looked at each other and looked back at her apologetically. It must be hell to work here on The Day and deal with all of these rich assholes with an elitist complex. Which is exactly what you said to her. She just laughed lightly and brushed it off, but you and Colby saw the look of acknowledgement in her eyes. You both said your thank yous and goodbye while walking towards the main sidewalk where you’d parked. That had gone right, at least. You both were ecstatic that you’d actually found reasonable, legal parking close to the restaurant in downtown LA. That was a feat.

Or at least, Colby thought the spot was legal. The ticket on his windshield begged to differ.

“What the hell? We were gone for like ten minutes!” Colby exclaimed, annoyed but impressed at the dedication of the PEO in the area.

You laughed heartily. Colby’s little cloud of poor luck seemingly didn’t take a holiday. Just one of the nuances you loved about him. You’d always have a story. You could see the doubt creeping into his face and you were about to reprimand it, but you faintly heard your favorite song playing in the distance. The band inside had taste! You gasped and smacked his arm, flapping your other hand excitedly.

“Listen!” You said, pulling him back from the car and taking his hands.

Colby looked down and checked his watch.

“7:45. That’s right.” He flicked his eyes up to your face, coughing awkwardly as he rubbed his neck.

“You planned that?” You smiled, taking his hand back again and pulling him a little closer.

“Yeah… I tried anyway. I planned to be able to hear it a little better, but this is a lesson in using Instagram followers for special treatment I guess.”

You laughed again and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him close to you.

“Well, don’t ever do that again obviously, but let’s dance like we did that one time the bouncer wasn’t convinced we were old enough to get into the club.” He giggled at that, remembering the look of bewilderment you two shared when Sam and Kat walked in with no issue. Of course you’d both forgotten your IDs that night. You decided to dance right outside anyway.

“Okay, but aren’t I supposed to be the one taking the lead?”

“Fuck gender roles.” You smiled, pulling him even closer and tucking your head beneath his chin, swaying him to the song playing from inside. He laughed again and let you move him around. He wasn’t good at dancing on his own anyway, so maybe you leading was the better decision. He was just letting things happen, slowly allowing himself to just let go and enjoy dancing with you. He felt silly and like he’d failed already, but he was keeping it together. There was still more planned. Where he couldn’t keep his poker face was when you -attempted- to spin him but actually just smacked his face with his own arm. You both giggled lightly and you decided to seal the deal with a sorry attempt at a dip. You forgot that he was taller than you, so gravity decided to join the forces against you two that night. Thankfully you were both near the car still, because Colby was able to keep both of you from the pavement by hitting his back against the door and grabbing onto the handle. You both were laughing hysterically at this point, unable to really form coherent sentences.

“Just get in the car,” You got out eventually, wiping the tears from your eyes. “And never tell anyone.”

“I don’t plan on it.” Colby said, opening the door for you.

“This is one of the chivalrous acts that I will accept, so don’t ever stop doing that.” You joked, kissing his cheek lightly as you got in.

“Note taken.” Colby laughed, closing the door behind you.

“So Romeo, now that the masquerade is bust, where are we headed?” You asked once he got in and started driving.

“I know that was supposed to be a reference, but I haven’t thought about that play since I was twelve,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Anyway, we’re going somewhere I think of when I think of you.”

You smiled softly at him with that. This boy was a big ol’ softie and he really pretends he’s not. You never bought it. He was incredibly sentimental and sweet, so you knew that wherever you all were going was going to mean a lot to him. Therefore, it would mean a lot to you too.

You were driving for a long time. You were no longer anywhere close to downtown and you couldn’t help but ask a million questions. Where are we going? Are we there yet? Why are we going here? Where are we going?

“You’ve already asked that.” Colby smiled, endeared by your only-child behavior but slightly annoyed nonetheless.

“You got me there, Brock. But where are we going?” Colby groaned, leaning forward into the wheel. He reached to his phone and handed it to you with the Aux cord.

“Please, pick something and stop asking!”

You smirked and went to his music. Usually, you would go straight to the songs you wanted, but you were being nosy. You decided to go to his playlists and see what he had saved. You were scrolling past the expected “editing” list or the “late night” playlists, but stopped when you saw it. The most recently added list was one simply titled, “Her” with a small heart next to it, the black one of course. You cocked your eyebrow and clicked it. You started looking through the songs and saw all of the songs you’ve recommended to him over your relationship, along with some outliers. You glanced over at him, seeing if he was paying attention.

He wasn’t. His brain was going at a million miles an hour. He felt like a comeplete fuck up. How was he the one table that was double booked? How had they managed to hit intense traffic at eight and made this drive take half an hour? How were you not bored out of your mind? There’s no way you were having any fun. He continued to stew in these intense thoughts when he’s snapped back to reality by the opening chords of Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.

Shit. She found it. He thought. He risked a glance at you, blushing bright red. Please don’t…

You were smiling widely at him. “You have a playlist for me?”

“Oh god.”

The rest of the drive flew by, you two screaming lyrics at the top of your lungs once Colby’s embarrassment faded. It reminded you of the first time you had hung out, just you two. You’d discovered a mutual love for early 2000’s emo music, so you two screamed your voices away to the sweet dynamics of My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy until two that morning. You smiled quietly, remembering the fun of that day. You knew this was one special dumbass that day, especially after figuring out he had misheard “down in an earlier round” from Sugar, We’re Going Down as “down on a merry-go-round” for literal years. You had scream-laughed at that and corrected him, laughing even harder as the realization spread across his face.

“Holy shit.” He’d whispered. “It’s been years…”

“Hey, we’re here.” Colby startled you out of your daydream. You smiled at him as he climbed out of the car and sprinted to open your door. You laughed, remembering your comments at the restaurant. He opened the door and let you out, beginning the walk towards the location. You recognized this location. It was the neighborhood of the chandelier tree from one of his earliest vlogs. You had seen it and begged for him to take you there. It seemed so cute. You smiled widely at him, placing your hand in his. You swung his hand lightly as you walked, knowing it drove him crazy.

“Would you stop that?” he playfully asked, feigning annoyance. You responded by swinging his arm as far back as you could, saying,

“Careful Brock. Watch the tone or I’ll try and dip you again.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that?” He asked cheekily, taking the piss.

You laughed again and smacked his arm as you turned the corner to the tree. Or the location of the tree, as there were no chandeliers.

“What?” Colby asked, mostly to himself. You both looked at each other, confused. You got closer, deciding to let go of each other’s hands as Colby went ahead, trying to see if it was just around another corner or if he was on the wrong block. You pulled out your phone and asked Google.

“Oh, baby. They took this down last month!” You frowned, calling out to him.

“Seriously?” Colby asked, clearly disappointed. Another fuck up. He hadn’t even thought to look up if it was still here or not “Shit.”

You could see the wheels in his head turning, trying to figure out what to say. You were about to reassure him when he lights up, turning to you and exclaiming,

“The park! That pretty lookout Sam and I used to go to all the time! It’s like ten minutes from here, we could go there. I’m sure it’s awesome right now.”

You smiled and were nodding in agreement when a loud bang made the two of you jump ten feet. You looked quizzically at each other when your mutual question was answered by a sudden downpour of rain and flash of lightning. A thunderstorm, of fucking course. Colby removed his jacket, holding it above your head as you both made a break for the car.

After your dead sprint, you both sat in your seat, heaving breaths and looking out in pure wonder. You looked over to Colby, ready to laugh at the absurdity of the whole night when you saw him slumped forward on the wheel, refusing to look at you, shoulders shaking slightly.

“Colby, baby, are you okay?” you asked lightly, grabbing his arm. He turned even farther away, opting to lean his head against his window to cool his heating face. He refused to let you see the single tear that was leaving his eye.

“I’m sorry.” was all he muttered.

You were shocked. “Baby, you don’t control the weather. If you did, I’d be pissed you haven’t fixed global warming yet.” You attempted to joke. He didn’t laugh.

“I failed again. I just wanted to make something special for you. I know you love Valentine’s Day and it means a lot to you. I hate this fucking holiday but I wanted to make you happy. But I fucked it up. Just like I do everything. I mean, it’s raining! In L.A.! What the fuck! There’s nowhere open that’s not booked and it’s already nine and I haven’t even gotten you food and you probably have never had a worse valentine’s-” he tried to rant, but you covered his mouth with your hand. His eyes darted to you, surprised.

You were beyond hurt. You couldn’t believe he didn’t see how much fun you were having or how much pressure he’d put on himself to make everything perfect. You should’ve guessed as much. You reached your other hand around the back of his neck, moving the one from his mouth to his cheek, kissing him.

“Would you shut the fuck up?” you said, pulling back. He barked a short laugh out, surprised.

“You know, you’re not the first one to tell me that about this whole thing.”

“You talked to Sam about this date?”

“How’d you know?” He looked at you again, fully flabbergasted. You laughed.

“Do you talk to anyone else about stuff important to you?” He shrugged, clearly thinking it through.

“Other than you, no, not really.”

“Anyway, he’s right. I don’t care that stuff didn’t work out. You put more thought into this night than anyone else has ever put into any date I’ve ever been on. You poured your heart into it. You thought every little thing through. You tried. And even when things didn’t work out, we had fun. We reminisced on our relationship so far. We danced, screamed songs, and ran through the rain. You tried to give me a super involved date. You gave me a damn movie instead.”

Colby scoffed at the irony in that. He did exactly what he was trying not to do. Fairly typical. You swiped your thumb across his cheek, getting his attention again.

“You’re drifting, stay with me.” Colby laughed and rolled his eyes. You stilled your thumb, confused.

“You and Sam are literally on the same wavelength.”

“Or we are the ones who know you best. I think I’ve got him beat on the loving you, though,” you paused. “Maybe.”

You both chuckled again.

“But seriously, Colbs, if you’re here, I’m happy. You make anything fun. That’s why I’m in love with you. I know you think about everything and try your fucking hardest. You are the sweetest man I know. That’s why I picked you. Remember, I had a line of suitors waiting,” you winked, knowing Colby knew that all too well.

“God, don’t remind me.” He groaned. He leaned his cheek into your hand, allowing you to hold him. That’s how you knew he loved you. He let his guard down and let you love him. He doesn’t do that for many, and you knew that. You loved that he let you in. He lightly kissed the hand that was still caressing his cheek, smiling when you pulled him close again. You two stayed like that for a while, kissing softly while the rain pattered against your windows. It really was like a movie. The gray, swirling clouds and soft wisps of the wind lulled you both into a serene sense of young love. You belong here. This was you two. Shit was going to go wrong. And you were going to love each other through it. That’s what made you two special. You don’t want perfection. You want each other.

“So,” Colby said softly as he pulled back. “How’s about we pick up some In-And-Out and binge watch Attack on Titan in the big theatre?” You smiled again, squeezing the back of his neck one more time.

“Fuck yeah.”

So, that’s what you all did. And it was the best night ever, just you two being goofy and in love. And okay, Colby may be coming around to Valentine’s Day. Or maybe it’s just you. He thinks it’s just you. Either way, he can’t wait to spend the rest of them just like this.

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justkeeptrekkin · 4 years

Text

A gift to all my followers!

This is something I whacked out a couple of weeks ago- just a thank you to all my followers who’ve stuck around, or who have just found me within the Good Omens fandom! It means the world to see you guys enjoy my fics. This is my gift to you guys, now that 2019 is coming to a close!

Enjoy! x

***

It’s hard to keep track of time when they're together on a good day. It’s even harder on the best of days.

The Ritz is busy. The lunch table is inappropriately large for just the two of them. They’re sat right next to each other. Champagne is bitter-sweet on Crowley’s tongue and he could watch Aziraphale for hours, listen to him talking for hours. He measures the way Aziraphale leans towards him with a hand stretched across the table, sharing a story. Eyes bright, typically taut posture unusually relaxed. Entire aura relaxed. The feeling in his own chest, relaxed.

And so it’s harder than usual to keep track of the time. People leave after tea; people arrive for dinner; people leave after dinner. The waiters stare at them from the kitchen doors, waiting for them to ask for the bill, which they don’t. Crowley barely has it in him to glare at them.

Their knees touch for almost the entire time.

For Crowley and Aziraphale, time has only ever been a construct. However, it has also, always, been bound by celestial responsibilities. Now, they have no such responsibilities. And they are no longer being watched.

The sky is darkening just a little when they finally leave. Green Park remains busy at-

Crowley checks the time on his phone.

-Greek Park remains busy at five thirty on a Tuesday night. People line up at the bus stop, heading home from work. Tourist stands filled with union jacks litter the streets outside the park. The colonnade of The Ritz shelters them from a light bit of drizzle.

Crowley slides his hands into his negligible pockets and considers what comes next. Dining at The Ritz has always comes with a time limit, and somewhere to go immediately afterwards. Some sort of agenda. He doesn’t know what that is now.

He looks over at Aziraphale, who hovers. Hovers and fiddles with his hands. Gaze flitting about as if he’s nervous, smile flickering on and off as if he doesn’t want Crowley to notice. He makes a feeble attempt at smiling again and gestures to the rain with a small nod. “Lovely weather we’re having, eh?” he says. It’s followed by a shaky half-laugh.

Crowley frowns at him, the bottom half of his face forming a smile. He feels as if he’s watching the Angel of the Eastern gate, introducing himself at Eden. And something about the sudden awkwardness fills him with intrigue- more than that, anticipation.

He leans back against a column, hands in pockets, and surveys Aziraphale’s anxious flapping.

“Well, go on, then,” Crowley prompts. “Something’s on your mind.”

“Not on my mind, per se,” Aziraphale concedes. His eyes darting up to the roof of the colonnade, to Heaven- a habit that may take some time to kick. “An idea of sorts.” “You’ve intrigued me,” Crowley drawls.

“Nothing exciting. Only.”

The look Aziraphale gives him in the brief moment of hesitation is heart-breaking. It’s filled with hope, and a healthy dollop of apprehension, too. As if Crowley would ever deny him anything. Crowley has experienced these moments of heart-shattering, heart-squashing, heart-pummelling love many times before, and he very much hopes that he’s done an alright job of concealing it from his expression.

He raises his eyebrows at Aziraphale and waits.

Aziraphale sighs, looking uncomfortable and apparently having no intention of expanding. He expects Crowley to make the move. Unsurprising.

“I could…” Crowley starts. Aziraphale looks at him in hope again. Christ on a bike I’m a pushover, he thinks. “I could. Invite you round to mine for a drink. If… you were thus inclined.” A great beaming smile. “Oh, you took the words right out of my mouth.” Crowley huffs an almost-laugh. They look at each other. And they both let the weight of that sink in. Slowly, like the rain that’s currently seeping into the stone pavement beyond the Ritz’s colonnade.

“Right,” he announces quickly, before thoughts can escalate any further. “Off we go, then?”

“Yes, just so. Tip top.”

Crowley conjures an umbrella. It’s not as if anyone would have noticed, he tells himself, though he sees the doorman at the Ritz recoil a little in shock. They share its shelter until Aziraphale miraculously hails a cab.

***

“Best idea you’ve had all week, angel- and that includes the body swapping nonsense.”

Aziraphale is sat on Crowley’s sofa. He has been handed a glass of wine. He holds it between cupped hands like he plans to take communion. His legs are hidden behind a tartan blanket. (Crowley will never admit that he conjured such a thing long, long ago, just in case something like this might happen. Something like Aziraphale staying for a movie night, or even, staying for the night. It had always seemed so unlikely. In fact, the moment he’d created said blanket, Crowley had been so infuriated by his blind hope of ‘having Aziraphale round’ that he’d burned it.

He’d restored the ashes to its original, tartaned form just a couple of hours later.)

“It seemed like the next logical thing,” Aziraphale explains pensively, brows raised and peering down into his Malbec. “If I had a ‘to do’ list, this is what I would put on it. I haven’t sat down and watched a movie all the way through in such a long time.” This may well be true, Crowley considers, as he rifles through his DVD collection, knees against polished concrete and painted nails tapping the spine of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Meanwhile, he’s simply marvelling at the fact that they’ve never sat down and watched a movie all the way through together, the two of them, ever. They’d always had more important things to be getting on with, like saving the world or performing miracles or negotiating the terms of their Agreement. And now. Now they can-

Now they can what?

He looks back over his shoulder at Aziraphale. Aziraphale is looking at him. The angel’s gaze flicks away instantly, staring back down into his wine. It hurts something in his chest. A nice kind of hurt, like a dash too much wasabi.

Crowley takes a moment to recover from this. Then- “You. You still haven’t given me any clues. What you in the mood for, angel?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widen for the briefest moment as if he’s alarmed by this question, for whatever reason. Then he frowns to himself, purses his lips in thought. Casts his eyes around the room, for inspiration. “Something…” “If you say nice,” Crowley warns, knees hurting a little on the hard floor.

“I wasn’t going to,” Aziraphale retorts. He pauses. He adds, more quietly, “I was going to say fun.”

Crowley groans. Turns to the DVD cabinet.

“I don’t do fun,” he says slowly, emphatically.

“Alright, well. Something at least a bit light-hearted. I think saving the world rather calls for it, don’t you?” Crowley tilts his head from side to side in consideration. “It’s a fair point,” he concedes to himself more than Aziraphale. Pouts. “Don’t want to bring the mood down. Not sure I’d want to…”

The reason he doesn’t finish his sentence is because he’s just been, unfortunately, reacquainted with the more mushy end of his DVD collection. He’d forgotten that he has several Audrey Heburn films, as well as a couple of Julia Roberts classics. He glares at them. Hidden amongst the arthouse silent movies, they’re betraying just how soft he is. And Aziraphale’s watching.

The DVD boxes quiver under his stare.

“How about we start with discussing what you have,” Aziraphale tries, reasonably. “Since we can’t reach a consensus. We don’t even have to watch a DVD if you don’t want-”

“Netflix,” Crowley remembers, standing up abruptly and immediately closing the cabinet. Then, “Netflix! That’s a thing. That’s a thing that we can do.” “Oh yes- I’ve heard of that,” Aziraphale says chirpily.

“Oh, yes, well done, angel.”

Aziraphale glares.

And so the Netflix loading screen bongs into life, Crowley collapsing onto the sofa beside Aziraphale. The red wine is jostled; Aziraphale tuts. Crowley props his heels on the coffee table.

“Do you mind. I almost spilled Malbec on my shirt.” “Lots more choices now,” Crowley ignores him and begins flicking through. “Look, it’s all organised nicely in rows of genre. Love how tidy this is, look. And the search function is so much easier. Have you tried the search function on Amazon Prime, lately? Nightmare.” “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Aziraphale replies lightly, spinning the wine in his glass like a whirlpool.

“Look, ‘s’got a whole section called ‘light-hearted movies’.”

“Very helpful.”

They flick through the row. They go through all of them without choosing, and end up at the beginning of the loop again. Crowley growls and hangs his head off the back of the sofa.

“Oh, pass it here,” Aziraphale sighs, putting down his wine with a decisive clink and picking up the remote. He holds it with one hand and presses the directional buttons with his other hand, as if it’s far more complicated and delicate a process than it actually is. Like an octogenarian trying to use an iPhone.

“How about this lovely looking Christmas film.“

"N- no. Anything but that. It’s October. And more importantly, no.”

“It looks ever so sweet, though. How lovely and romantic-”

“We are not watching The Christmas fucking-well Prince.”

He’d had a hand in inspiring that, and he’s too embarrassed to admit it even to himself. His evil deeds really are shit.

“No need to snap,” Aziraphale mutters.

“If you’re determined to watch something romantic and seasonal, I will accept The Holiday. If I must. Jack Black makes it bearable.”

Aziraphale lets the screen rest on the thumbnail of the movie. Then, quite thoughtfully, he says: “I like Kate Winslet. She seems like a nice woman.”

“Mm. Yeah, that’s. OK. I’m sure she is, angel.”

In all honesty, the idea of watching a rom-com with Aziraphale is border-line torture. It’s not quite as bad as waterboarding, but it’s close. More on the same level as those nightmares you get where you have to do a maths exam in your underwear, on stage, and all of your exes and crushes point and laugh at you. Not only are rom-coms pretty hit and miss- some influenced by Heaven, some by Hell, you never know what you’re going to get- they’re also a fantastic way of making Crowley feel incredibly exposed. Incredibly hot in the face from second-hand embarrassment. Incredibly aware that he’s meant to be sneering and heckling, when he’s just trying to concentrate on holding himself together. Stop the feelings from spurting out of his heart like water in a dam: feelings that he thinks are, embarrassingly, rather a lot like longing.

And yet, because it is Crowley, and this is what Crowley does, he lets Aziraphale select the movie and they watch The Holiday. They remark on the general cheesiness, the (at times) witty dialogue. The staggering amount of disbelief that has to be suspended for the plot to work. How nice Jude Law looks in glasses.

Crowley’s only sort of watching. He’s concentrating on Aziraphale. Not outright staring at him (although he does often do that, it’s a wonder he hasn’t noticed and told Crowley to sod off). Rather, letting his brain tick over the knowledge that he is right beside him. Too much of his daft, devil mind is unable to ignore the fact that Aziraphale is there.

Sometimes, it sends unhelpful thoughts his way. Like, you could touch his hand. Or, imagine feeding him popcorn- wouldn’t that be interesting. Or simply, there he is. He’s here. He’s with you. He’s chosen this.

About half-way through the film, Aziraphale starts with those sad sighing sounds, making woebegone eyes at the television- which tells Crowley that he’s getting peckish but doesn’t want to bother Crowley with it. So, Crowley casually announces that he’s heard there’s a good new Chinese restaurant around the corner, and Aziraphale brightens up again immediately. And they have to pause the film to choose what to eat, because Crowley reckons he might actually order something for himself this time, and Aziraphale ums and ahs about these things for hours anyway. And once they’ve ordered- over the app, thank God for avoiding human interaction- the food arrives, quite miraculously, three minutes later.

And once the food is gone, the film is almost finished. And Netflix seems to have decided what they should watch next, because it puts on the first episode of The Crown without asking them. Which they watch, although Crowley’s not really watching. And Aziraphale is complaining about the inaccuracies.

And at some point they end up sitting very close.

No. That makes it sound as if Crowley has no idea how they ended up that close. He knows exactly when this happened, because he hasn’t taken a breath since.

It happened like this.

They’re halfway through the first episode of The Crown, and Aziraphale has returned from the kitchen with a new bottle of red- a Pinot, this time- and he pours for both him and Crowley. Aziraphale has been sat on his own side of the sofa, and Crowley has been on his, draping his arms and legs wherever he sees fit. Now, as Aziraphale resettles on the sofa, he sits right beside him. The way Crowley is angled, his legs dangling off the arm of the sofa, means that he’s leaning in Aziraphale’s direction. Very obviously.

So he’s using all his (very little) core strength to keep himself sitting upright enough not to fall into his lap. Even if it would be very nice to let his head rest on Aziraphale’s lap. And even if he’d really like to relax a little bit and lean his shoulder against Aziraphale’s.

And for Heaven’s sake, it shouldn’t be an issue for a couple of six thousand year old beings to sit side-by-side on a sofa, and yet, here’s Crowley, having a crisis about it. It’s not as if he thought twice about pinning him against a wall.

Although he probably should have. That was a lot.

His eyes follow the way Aziraphale’s legs stretch in front of him, crossed over at the ankles. A little slouched on the sofa, shoes off. It’s about as relaxed as Crowley’s ever seen him.

“Why do you think they decided to make this TV series now, when the Queen is still alive,” Aziraphale remarks. It almost makes Crowley jump a little, so deep in thought that he’d forgotten time hadn’t stopped entirely.

“Whassat?” “Well, why do you think they’ve made the series now? It seems a bit-”

“Right,” Crowley says brain finally processing the question. “No- dunno, angel.” They both go quiet. Crowley’s hand grips the back of the sofa. The fear that he’s going to slip and lean against Aziraphale is too real. As nice as it would be-

Perfect. Miraculous. Wonderfully human.

-It would also be mortifying.

He can hear Aziraphale’s breathing. Slow. Precise and even, like he’s measuring out ingredients for a recipe. It makes Crowley’s mouth go dry with painful self-awareness.

“Do you remember,” Aziraphale starts quietly, “when you and I bumped into each other in Camden Town?” He takes a few seconds to pretend to think about this. “Yeah, ‘f course. Nineteen seventy-seven. What made you think of that?” Aziraphale shifts a little, looking at Crowley. Crowley doesn’t look back, watches the screen. If he turns towards Aziraphale, they’ll be-

“You were wearing that awful t-shirt.” That makes him laugh. A tipping-the-head-back laugh. “Oh yeah- my God Save the Queen t-shirt. Sex Pistols. Yeah, those were the days. Don’t knock ‘em, they were a good band.” “I’m sure they were.” “Don’t use that voice, they were. Anarchic music at its finest.” “I believe you, but bebop is still a little too baffling for me, I’m afraid.”

Crowley doesn’t expect it. He doesn’t know where it comes from- he thought he knew himself quite well at this point, but apparently not well enough. He feels something take over from out of nowhere. Rather, feels something erase everything else- a whiteboard rubber cleaning all the bullshit away.

And now he’s turned to Aziraphale without the babbling voice of anxiety in his head.

“It’s punk music, not bebop. And. I reckon you’d like it.” His voice is a murmur and his eyes are looking at Aziraphale’s lips. Thank Christ for sunglasses.

When he looks back up and meets Aziraphale’s gaze, he’s watching Crowley. Looking for something.

He feels his lips part, hears himself take a breath through his mouth.

“Oh, really?” Aziraphale asks weakly. A small quirk in one eyebrow.

“Y-” Fucking Hell. His throat’s all dry and he’s forgotten what words are. And now Aziraphale is definitely looking at his mouth. Fuck fuck fuck fu- “Yeah. You’re a rebel now, after all. Sort of. Breaking all those rules.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale replies in a whisper. Then, regaining his voice, “I suppose that’s true.”

“S- uh- mm- w- some of the songs, anyway, not all of them. You’d uh- h- some of them are a bit explicit than others and you’d probably not. Not get on with those ones.”

“Crowley…?” That’s all it takes. Thousands of years of keeping his feelings to himself and taking it slow, and all it takes is that little inflection in Aziraphale’s hushed voice. That hesitant request, draped over the sound of his name. Crowley leans in and presses his lips gently against Aziraphale’s.

There’s that horrible moment when it stops, and everything else seems to stop, too. The what next? hangs in the air and Aziraphale stutters a shaky breath against Crowley’s skin.

“Too fast?” is what Crowley ends up asking. Just to break the pause.

And then the most dazzling, drunken smile spreads across Aziraphale’s face. Brows knit together. An expression that looks a lot like “To the world.”

“No,” he half laughs, shaking his head infinitesimally. “For once, no. We… we saved the world, I rather think we deserve this.”

Something in Crowley relaxes, unhinges, collapses. It lets all the feelings free and they flood him till he swears he almost goes blind. And that is how they both end up falling asleep on the sofa, still wearing the days’ clothes and kicking off a tartaned blanket. Wrapped up in each other- starting this new era as they mean to continue.

***

Crowley wakes up and finds his head on Aziraphale’s chest. He’s splayed on top of him, arm hanging off the edge of the sofa. He feels Aziraphale’s hand, warm between his shoulder blades.

“What would you like to do today?” Aziraphale asks with a smile in his voice.

That is how it starts. They think of the things they were too scared to do together, the things that they never found the time to do together, the things they always liked to do together.

They go for a walk through Hampstead Heath, just as the weather’s beginning to turn- their breathes steaming in front of their faces as they walk. They haven’t been here since 1815. They both try to avoid the muddy parts and fail spectacularly. They make fun of each other for the mess they’ve made of their shoes. They begin by hooking their fingers together, until they’re brave enough to hold hands completely.

They go home and cook together. It goes disastrously.

“What are we doing today?” Crowley asks the next morning, when they wake up on Crowley’s sofa again.

They go to some hipster bar in East London- Tobacco Docks, it’s called. They find that there’s good food, lots of good booze and an ice rink- which Crowley absolutely point-blank refuses to go on until Aziraphale makes that wide-eyed, pleading face. They have a tipsy and very clumsy skate around the rink before returning to their drinks. Crowley’s better at wine than ice rinks.

“What are we doing today?” Aziraphale asks, when they’ve woken up in Crowley’s bed. His white hair against his white sheets. A new part of the landscape of his room.

They end up doing very little. They read together on the sofa and make tea. Crowley introduces Aziraphale to the best music ever created- disco, of course. They dance in the living room in bare feet and laugh till they can’t see through the tears.

“What are we doing today?” Crowley asks the next morning.

“What are we doing today?” Aziraphale asks the next.

They’ve saved the world, and that still seems surreal. But there’s waking up on Crowley’s sofa after a movie marathon, too. A dinner date, or a night in.

And that feels perfectly real.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #my writing #fan fiction #fic prompt

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lonestarbabe · 3 years

Text

Holding Out for a Hero

Chapter 10: I Wanna Be Missed

[AO3]

T.K. and Carlos are pining idiots, and then, they have a moment of clarity.

I wanna be missed like every night

I wanna be kissed like it’s the last time

Say you can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t breathe without me

I wanna be held, fragile like glass

‘Cause I’ve never felt nothing like that

Say you can’t walk, can’t talk, can’t go on without me

Carlos

Ever since T.K. had come clean about the lies that he had told Carlos, the mood had changed between them. But Carlos felt like there was cement stuffed in his throat because nothing felt settled to him. He worried about T.K. more than ever. How can I know if he’s okay when he’s so good at faking it? How can I protect him? When are things going to spiral again? He was panicked at the idea that eventually, things were going to get worse again. New obstacles were always waiting along the horizon. As soon as I let my guard down, that’s when bad things happen, so I have to keep my guard up. I will keep him safe. I will stay vigilant.

“Did you feel the energy of the arena?” T.K. said after his show, bouncing on his toes. “I’ve never felt so alive.” T.K. was always good-spirited immediately after shows, but lately, he had been ebullient. He didn’t even have the post-show depression that usually appeared after the adrenaline worse off. He’d also been sober, at least as far as Carlos could tell.

“It was a great show,” Carlos praised. “You’re always so good.”

“Things are finally starting to feel normal.” T.K. finished packing his things to leave the arena. “And I get to see Marjan next week, and she won’t even have to give me a lecture to get my life together.”

“That’s great, T.K.”

“Who knew therapy would be so good?” It had only been a few weeks, and Carlos was worried that T.K. felt too good. When the honeymoon period wore off and T.K.’s therapist started to unearth more complicated topics, Carlos feared that T.K.’s good mood would plummet. He hoped T.K. was ready for the ups and downs of getting better. “I’ve tried it before, but I’ve never felt this good.”

Maybe I’m projecting. When Carlos had lost his job and his boyfriend, he’d been just as cheery when he first started therapy. He was hopeful. He thought he was over the worst of it, so he became complacent. Then, Taylor was arrested, and Carlos realized that no matter how many good days were having, you had to be ready for the bad days that crept in. Carlos wanted to warn T.K. about the lows that could so quickly turn into a spiral, but he didn’t know how to mention it without killing T.K.’s good mood.

He looked at his watch. “It’s late. Where to next?”

“Just the hotel. I’m not ready to go out yet,” which was a small relief. Carlos wasn’t going to gatekeep T.K.’s recovery, but he still worried about it. “I don’t even want to go out.”

“Wow,” Carlos said with a smile. “You really have changed.” He hoped he sounded encouraging.

“You’re staying with me, aren’t you?” Carlos loved staying in the same room as T.K., having him close, and laughing with him until early in the morning.

“I know you get lonely,” Carlos said, leading T.K. to the car. When they get there, he opens the door for T.K. and then plops down beside T.K., exhausted. He yawned, causing T.K. to yawn in response.

“You can have your own room if you want,” T.K. reminded him. He said that every time they stayed somewhere overnight. “It’s not like I need to pinch pennies, but I like having you around.” I like having you around too.

“It would be a waste,” Carlos said with a shrug. “Besides, I like our sleepovers. Gossiping and watching romcoms.”

“You love romcoms.”

“I only watch them because…” I love you “… you pout if I don’t.”

“Play it cool if you want. I know you love The Notebook.”

Carlos laughed. “You do know that romcom means romantic comedy, right?”

“You’re just trying to distract me from your romcom-loving, mushy heart.” T.K. nudges Carlos with his shoulder. “Just for that, I’m making you watch The Notebook tonight.”

“No thanks. I don’t want to cry.”

“A good cry is good for the soul.”

Carlos shook his head. “That’s what you’ll say until after The Notebook you make me watch Mamma Mia! to neutralize your emotions.”

“You love it,” T.K. replied with a cocky lilt and rested his head on Carlos’ shoulder. Carlos stayed very still the whole rise home so that T.K. would keep his head there.

When they got back to the hotel, they got into their pajamas, and as Carlos was going to get on his bed, T.K. patted the space next to him. “Sit with me for a while. I want you close so I can comfort you when the movie gets too sad.”

Carlos obliged. He saw that T.K. had already flipped the TV. “We’re not watching The Notebook.” Carlos knew what T.K. was about to do before he did it. “Don’t start pouting. I’m not falling for it.”

“Fine,” T.K. said, flipping the TV off.

Carlos regretted his choice. “I didn’t mean we couldn’t watch any movie.”

T.K. grinned. “I have better ideas.” He scooted closer to Carlos, easing across the big bed.

“What are you—"

T.K. pressed his lips to Carlos’, and Carlos pushed his weight into the mattress so that he could match the pressure on his lips. I forgot how good kissing can be. Carlos hadn’t kissed someone like that since Taylor, and he missed the feeling, and the kiss jolted the exhaustion from Carlos’ body. T.K.’s lips lingered, ghosting over Carlos’ even as T.K. pulled away. Selfishly, Carlos let T.K. kiss him again. A kiss never hurt anyone, Carlos thought. Just a few moments more, and then I’ll put an end to this.

T.K. pushed Carlos down on the bed and climbed on top of him. He pulled his shirt over his head and trailed his lips down Carlos’ neck, and Carlos was helpless to the chemicals surging through his body. Carlos raked his hand down T.K.’s abs. He’s beautiful.

“T.K., hold on.” Carlos couldn’t bring himself to say, “Stop.” T.K. rolled off Carlos right away, and Carlos fought the urge to pull T.K. back onto him. He missed the grounding weight, and before saying anything else, Carlos steadied his breath. God, I want him. “Do you really think this is a good idea?”

“What’s wrong?” T.K. asked, breathing heavily. I have to be the voice of reason.

“If we don’t stop now, we never will.” Carlos brushed a hand down T.K.’s face, needing to know that the moments they shared were more than just fantasy. T.K. was real, oh too real. The gesture gave T.K. the wrong idea. It was an implicit, “Keep going.” Carlos pulled his hand away, not wanting to be inadvertently cruel with the inherent promise in the softness of his touch, but it was too late. T.K. beamed, and Carlos was seconds away from promising T.K. the whole universe.

“I don’t want to stop.” T.K. kissed Carlos’ neck, and Carlos steeled himself, scrounging up all the self-restraint in his body. I don’t want to stop either. But he had to maintain boundaries. My heart is at risk, and I need to keep this situation under control.

“I do,” Carlos said without wavering, and T.K. wilted for a millisecond before hiding his disappointment under the effortless, carefree expression he used for his fans. Carlos hated that look being used on him. T.K. pulled himself further from Carlos. I can’t have it both ways. I’ve made my decision, and I have to stick with it.

“Okay,” T.K. said with a shaky voice; the intensity of his gaze shifted from Carlos to the generic art that was on the hotel wall. “That’s okay.”

“Are you upset?”

T.K. looked over his shoulder for a second, and he smiled like an eighth-grader with braces told to “smile with their teeth” on picture day. “Not at all,” he said, sounding a lot like a fire alarm with a dead battery. Only a moron would turn down T.K. Strand, and right now, I’m the most self-loathing moron on earth.

T.K.

I’m such an idiot, T.K. thought as his thoughts started to spiral into self-recrimination. I should have known that he wouldn’t be into me. I’ve ruined everything, and I took the best thing in my life and flipped it on its head. He’s looking at me with pity in his eyes and must think I’m so pathetic for making a move.

“I’m sorry,” T.K. said, rising from the bed. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t be,” Carlos said in a rush.

“I thought…” T.K. trailed off. I thought there was something between us. Anxiety was building in his chest, converting into anger. “I shouldn’t have…I’m just lonely,” he said harshly. Carlos’ face fell, and T.K. hated himself for the part of him that wanted that hurt reaction. He couldn’t take the way those brown eyes were looking at him, the way they softened that anger even as the anger fought harder than ever to take over T.K.’s mind. “You’re really hot.” Complimenting Carlos’ appearance was a happy medium between the angry façade of rejection and the yearning heartbreak that so easily came with loving the way someone looked at you more than the way they looked to you.

Carlos didn’t respond, and T.K. couldn’t stop talking because if he did, he wasn’t sure what he might do instead. “Can’t blame a man for trying.” For hoping. He painted on a breezy smile as he pushed down the monsters stirring inside of him. “I’m probably not your type.” He probably likes sane people.

“It’s not that I’m not attracted to you.”

T.K. couldn’t help the hope that rose in his chest. I’m fool. He eased closer to Carlos, but he kept space between them. “Then, kiss me.” Please, and if you can’t do that, at least hug me. Hold my hand. Smile at me. Love me. He’d take anything that Carlos would give; he’d give anything that Carlos would take.

Carlos shook his head, voice low, “I can’t.”

T.K. wanted to beg. He wanted to say, Pretend I’m yours for just an hour. Give me a taste of your love, and I won’t ask for more. Let me have just one moment, so I can imagine how forever with you might feel. Make me feel like I matter. “What’s a little stress relief between friends?”

“Stress relief wasn’t what we were doing, T.K. Not to me.”

“What were we doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is this going to make things weird?” T.K. asked, dreading the answer.

“Of course not,” Carlos was quick to reassure him.

“I’m going to sleep,” T.K. said, flopping onto the other bed and flipping the lamp off. He didn’t want Carlos to see the glassiness in his eyes. He was trying not to cry because then Carlos might realize how heartbroken he was.

“Are you okay?”

“A little rejection isn’t going to make me a druggie again, Carlos,” T.K. snapped. But the thought passed my mind, he thought darkly.

“We can still watch a movie.”

T.K. shook his head. “I’m exhausted.” He turned away from Carlos, and he tried to force himself to sleep. I wish I had an oxy to chase the sadness away, he thought as his breathing steadied and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Carlos

Carlos hadn’t been able to sleep. T.K. was across the room in the other bed, turned on his side so that he faced away from Carlos. Carlos crept out of the dark room, slipping into the lit hallway. He pulled out his phone and realized that he didn’t have anyone to call. He studied his contacts, trying to find a relationship that he hadn’t neglected. Finally, he took a gamble and called the one person who always seemed to see through T.K.’s bullshit.

“What did he do this time?” Marjan said after one and a half rings.

Carlos wondered if calling her had been a mistake as he struggled to find words. He looked at the time, and it was three am. He considered hanging up altogether, but Marjan’s curiosity would probably lead to her calling him back. But what do I say?

“Oh, I see,” Marjan said when Carlos didn’t say anything. “You’re worried you did something.”

“It’s late. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” He gulped. “I didn’t have anyone else to call.” That’s pathetic!

“It’s earlier here.”

“Still,” Carlos hedged.

“Carlos, we’re friends. I wouldn’t have answered if I didn’t want to talk.”

“We are?”

“Anyone who cares as much about T.K. as you do is a friend.”

“I’m not doing so well on that front. I think I care too much. That’s the problem.”

“Caring too much isn’t a problem, Carlos.” It is when it stands in the way of my job.

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” Marjan said. “You’re worried about getting too attached.”

“I’m already there,” Carlos said with a titter.

“What’s the problem?”

“My job. I can’t cross any more boundaries.”

“Sounds like an excuse to me.”

“I’m not sure why I called. Sorry to have wasted your time.”

“You’re not getting out of this that easy, buddy.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“You called for a reason, and since you did, you’re getting the friend treatment.” She continued, “This isn’t about your job. It never was. You’re afraid. You’re terrified of what it means to love him. I get it. I’ll kill you if you tell him I said this, but T.K. is sunshine on a rainy day. He makes you feel important. When you’ve gotten his trust, he’s loyal and affectionate. He gives his whole heart. But all those things that make T.K. so lovable are also what makes him so terrifying because sunshine can burn. He becomes self-destructive. He burns too brightly. He gets lost in his passion, and in the process, he hurts the people who are closest to him.”

“How do I deal with that?”

“You remember that loving T.K. Strand means knowing that you can’t save him from himself. You can support him. You can lessen the heat, but you can’t burn with him, no matter how tempting that may be.” That’s what I was afraid she would say, Carlos thought.

“I can’t stop these feelings, can I?” Carlos asked miserably.

“Not really, so it’ll only hurt you both if you’re a dumbass about it.” She sighed. “Tell him how you feel. I’m serious.”

“He’s asleep,” which was probably for the best. If T.K. was awake, Carlos might have stormed into the room before he had the chance to think things over.

“He won’t be forever.” I can’t avoid this forever.

“Yeah,” the conversation dwindled. “Thanks for the advice. Goodnight, Marjan.”

“Call me again sometime when it’s not so late. We can have a real chat. Like real friends do.”

“Will do,” Carlos replied before hanging up the phone and sneaking back into the room as quietly as he could, afraid to wake T.K. up. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do come morning, but when he came back into the room with the light already on, a dim glow around T.K.’s face like a halo, Carlos had a wave of courage that he didn’t think would last until the morning.

Carlos stared into T.K.’s red-rimmed eyes, knowing that it was a decisive moment. He either had to end whatever it was between them for good or take a chance on feelings that were blooming between them, but he knew he couldn’t keep T.K. in limbo. “Do you have a minute to talk?” Carlos asked, fear in his voice, and the pause before T.K. spoke felt like it lasted a lifetime.

#wip #911 lone star #911 lone star fics #holding out for a hero #elise writes #my writing

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kunderdogs · 4 years

Text

Day6 / First Time With S/O

Day6 request from a few weeks ago! This is a first time with their female s/o!! But honestly, I tried not to be too descriptive so you can interpret it as a male s/o too~!

Anyway, please enjoy it. My request are still closed until I can get the other requests answered and completed so stay tuned for those as well!

Sungjin:

It’s not his first time, obviously

He wouldn’t bring that up

But it would be as plain as day

Goes so slowly

Doesn’t do anything rough - he’s a perfect gentleman

If you’re uncomfortable at any time, he will smile and give you space

He won’t speak much, but his eyes are on you the entire time to make sure you’re not in pain/or not feeling it

Refuses you when you say you want to pleasure him

Nope, this is about you completely.

Even if it wasn’t your first time, it’s your first time as a couple and he wants to make it all about you

He’s a people pleaser ;)

So his foreplay game is unmatched tbh

He wants you to be absolutely ready for him

Grabbing your inner thighs and holding them down to the bed while his head is buried between your legs

Smirking when he notices you’re shaking after cumming

There’s no fucking going on

ONLY LOVE MAKING, BABY

Even if you try to get him to go rough with you, he won’t lol

Pampers you the entire time

Showers you in affection

“Don’t hide, you’re beautiful. Come here.”

Will promise you the world as his strokes get a little rushed

Smiles into the neck kisses uwu

Jae:

He’s soooo nervous

Your first time as a couple is something you’ll remember FOREVER

He cannot fuck this up

Wants to make it so special

Takes you out to dinner and wines and dines you

Cracks jokes to ease the tension

Doesn’t initiate anything physical

Jae will ask your consent so many times you’re like “do you want me to write an agreement or something...” but it’s honestly so sweet

Gentleman af

Let’s you set the pace

Follows your lead on everything because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable

Will immediately back away if you decided you didn’t want to take it further

He won’t speak too much because he doesn’t want to ruin the mood

Sneaks away to put on some slow-romantic music to calm you dow

He’s determined to make you cum just from eating you out and it’s a mission at this point

Spoiler alert- he competes that mission ;)

Spends a lot of time trying to find what position has you seeing stars

Whispers against your skin praises

Soft kisses against your shoulder

Caresses your body gently

Missionary with slow strokes (yessir)

Young K:

“This night is about you, baby.” is what Brian says to you

And he means that! It’s your first time coming to an award show so he wants it to be memorable.

But you look too fine dressed up in that tight evening gown.

He keeps giving you looks, side eyeing you with a dark glint in his eyes

Subtle touches on your thighs and gripping your knee under the table

When you get to your place, Brian is going to stay his distance at first.

Doesn’t want to come off as some horny bastard (but he kinda is rn? he’s confused)

When you come back down, changed down into one of his shirts and booty shorts, you notice his focus is on your thighs more so than your face or what your saying

It doesn’t take long for you drop hints that he picks up readily, loosening his button down with one hand

He’s very gentle and patient the first few minutes

Let’s you control the tempo but your back is against the couch, with him hovering over you so whose really in control here...

His hands are moving up and down your sides

Kisses are deep, passionate and it heats up the entire room

Sweet talk

“I’ve wanted you since the day you came into my life, baby.”

Eats you out until you’re shaking

His hands lift your legs so they wrap around his waist, heels digging into his lower back

Kisses against your chest, neck, below your ear

Deep strokes with no space between your bodies

Encourages you to arch your back saying “Good girl” into your lips

Wonpil:

Plans the whole night out perfectly

But nothing goes right.

It rained on you two as you were having your picnic dinner by candlelight

The cake he got you was soggy and mushy

He forgot your present in the dorms and no cab stopped to pick y’all up for about twenty minutes

Through it all, you thought his pouting face was cute so you giggled as Wonpil sulked as you both walked up to your door.

He apologizes with tears building in his eyes that your birthday was ruined and you kiss him to stop him from getting carried away

“Any birthday I spend with you is perfect. Thank you,” you said before taking his hand and pulling him into your house.

He has no plans to get down and dirty tonight, but is not opposed to it

Flustered as you initiate it but will quickly gather himself

Shy about this escalating and will hesitate because he’s not sure if you want to go all the way

When you reassure him, he’ll be more confident

His hands would stay neutral and be on your hips for the most part

Let’s you control pretty much everything the first time around

Wants to know your likes/dislikes and spends an healthy amount down on you ;)

Watches your face to see what you react well to

He’s nervous about the act at first, but will calm down once you reassure him with affection and soft “I love you”s

Soft moans but he’ll try to keep it down because “that’s so embarrassing omg I sounded so desperate-”

Progressively gets louder the closer he gets

Melts into you when you stroke his hair, nuzzling into your body

Dowoon:

Sex was not in the game plan for tonight

It was strictly movie night

But when all the other members ditched you two, the idea crept into his mind very quickly.

Jae left you two with a wink as he left the dorms so you weren’t oblivious

Since you two had been dating for the past six months (and friends for months before), you been alone many, many times

But this time was different

Dowoon was distracted the whole time - fidgeting and clearing his throat, adjusting his position on the couch

When you came back from getting more popcorn, he jumped you

Not really

You sat down and Dowoon was suddenly pulling you on top of his lap.

His eyes are hooded as he watches you get comfortable on him

“Can I kiss you, baby?” Asks for consent at least four times UwU

When you two are lost in the passion of making out, he’ll pick you up and walk you to his room

Doesn’t want to have your guys’ first time on the dorm couch - not romantic at all tbh

Hums when you kiss down his neck but drops you on the bed, smirking up at you

Foreplay to a point where both of you are practically desperate for it

Actively tries to not be as rough but he’ll get caught up

Gentle strokes easily turn deep enough to have you arching

Lots of power play - flipping each other over to gain control

He’ll give in (just this once) because he’s so hypnotized when he sees you bouncing above him

Groaning your name into your chest, breathing softly and encouraging you to go harder, faster

Definitely going to finish you off and have you cumming at least three times before he’s even thinking about himself

(Blonde Dowoon is my weakness)

#day6 #day6 reaction #park sungjin #day6 jae #Park Jaehyung #youngk #brian kang #kang younghyun #day6 scenario #wonpil #kim wonpil #Yoon Dowoon #day6 dowoon #smut reaaction #smut scenario

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hanadolphieron · 3 years

Text

lunar artist!yeojin; chapter three~

warnings; space battles, yeojin and reader have beef now

genre; sci-fi, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, angst

pairing; im yeojin x gender neutral!reader

word count; 2.3k

summary; your small crater town on the moon was rarely visited. one day, artist!yeojin travels all the way from mars to paint the serene, wistful scenery of your planet.

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after the two of you suffered through that exhaustingly awkward moment, you both headed up to bed.

you gave yeojin your bed and snatched the sofa next to it. you could keep an eye on her that way.

not that she would attempt anything.

but you never know.

she might attack the fish who bit her and exact revenge.

and that would not end well.

yeojin sets on a solo adventure to find the bathroom, and you, completely oblivious to her quest, shuffle around the kitchen, cleaning up the small mess made by the pretzels.

she fails, somehow, and comes wandering back towards you.

“where is the bathroom?”

not saying a word, you lead her to it.

“ah.”

“yeah. you can shower if you want to, all that dancing must have tired out your small legs.”

“hey! i’m not that short!” she says, reaching out to smack your arm. however, you’re too fast, and scramble like an egg into your room before she can catch you.

you hear the bathroom door close. you’re safe. for now.

sitting on your bed, you write. jotting down notes about your emotions, what you’ve felt throughout the day, random doodles, it’s what you do when you’re bored.

you’ve never felt embarrassed that you do this, i mean technically your job is being a writer, considering your journalist occupation. although your company hasn’t communicated with you in, let’s see, 3 months? yeah.

however, now that someone else is around you, you feel like you have to hide it a little. it reminds you of the way you’d feel when you were a kid, all nervous because their crush is near them, and they just have to impress them.

no idea why you feel like this around yeojin. it’s not like she’ll judge you. i mean, she will, but the connection between the two of you is already too strong to completely break, despite it only having been a week since you met.

thinking of yeojin seems to manifest her somehow, and she appears in your doorway.

“good evening,” you say.

she nods and mobilizes towards the bed. flinging herself upon it, you flinch back a little, still not used to fast-paced moves.

now that yeojin is settled, (although there is a lot of rustling) you lay back on the sofa, curled up in a fluffy blanket and a surplus of pillows.

you used to sleep out under the stars, but you’ve grown so used to seeing them that they don’t bring the same kind of magic they used to. it’s pretty sad, honestly, that beauty seems to disappear after a while.

yeojin breaks into your thoughts, “you said we could go ice-skating.”

she doesn’t phrase it as a question, but you know what she means.

“let’s go then,” you respond, effortlessly dragging yourself up from your den and treading barefooted through the house.

yeojin follows, her feet tapping quietly against the floor.

going into the edge of the door, you look at the ice skates. you have two pairs. one for you, obviously, you do live here. the other one you bought in a romantic mood, hopelessly yearning for some long-lost love to come find you and ask you to dance on the frozen lake under the stars.

right now, the time has come for them to serve their purpose. not exactly how you were expecting it, but nevertheless, there is a, well, i guess you’d call yeojin a “love interest” wanting to ice-skate with you under the frosting of sparkles shimmering above.

yeojin reaches down, snatching the pair you just mentioned. wordlessly, you take your pair.

you go outside into the freezing air, which is more or less not even air. both of you are barefoot, having just gotten out of bed and neither of you are hooligans and sleep with socks on.

you don’t complain, neither does yeojin. she’s used to the hot atmosphere of mars, so it’s surprising she doesn’t react to the cold, but then again she’s also used to concealing emotions and being a warrior rivalling the spartans.

once you’re at the edge of the icy lake, you plop down on the ground and slide the skates on. yeojin does the same.

“i’ve never skated before,” she says.

“as expected. well, it’s okay, i’ll catch you if you fall,” you tell her, giving an easy smile.

you, on the other hand, are excellent at skating. it’s one of the only activities you’ve been able to enjoy here, and you’ve certainly spent lots of time on it.

standing up, you start off without yeojin. i mean come on, you need to impress her at least once.

starting off with your left foot, you move up to a soft, swift pace.

gliding across the ice, you swirl and pirouette in the air, landing on one of your feet, spinning.

you don’t look back at yeojin. instead, you quickly skate across the long side of the lake, going faster than yeojin ever thought was possible with ease.

after performing a few more jumps, and even skating backwards for some of them, you slide back over to yeojin.

she’s standing there, wobbling a little, and practically falls over once she sees you heading towards her.

“wow, that was, woah, i,” she’s speechless.

you laugh a little, reveling in your moment of glory. taking her hand, (which is pretty brave for you) and help her onto the ice.

her small figure keeps the amount of imbalance to a minimum, and she seems to have pretty good control over her limbs, so the first few steps go well.

unfortunately, yeojin loses her footing after attempting to go faster, and flails backwards, almost bringing you with her.

however, your confidence on the ice and long arms stop her.

you catch her.

she’s now being held bridal style in your arms.

this is, well, one of the best things you’ve ever experienced. you’ve never held a girl like this, and wow does it feel nice.

she’s pretty light, and is floating in your hold.

her hair is soft, and it brushes up against your skin, making you shiver and giggle as it tickles you.

you’re not as awkward as when you’re on solid land, and manage to lift yeojin upright, still holding her hand.

she seems flustered, her cheeks dusted with a light layer of pink dust, matching the sigil on her forehead.

this seems to boost yeojin’s confidence, and her nerves disappear knowing she has a knight in shining armor ready to catch her if she falls.

going faster this time, yeojin squeaks along the ice, struggling in places, but she seems to be getting the hang of it.

“can i try one of those twirl things?” she asks you. her impulsiveness never fails to surprise you.

“no,” you chuckle, “but we can do this.”

you turn towards her, lifting one of her hands up. yeojin stares up at you, confused.

“turn,” you whisper.

she gets the memo, and awkwardly lifting one foot up, attempts a turn.

you guide her through it. luckily, her hair doesn’t smack you in the face, you were a bit afraid of that.

the stars glitter above you, a constant reminder of your miniscule existence. it’s comforting somehow.

but right now you don’t feel small.

you feel bigger than you’ve ever felt before. like you’re more than just flesh with an intelligent, imaginative mind.

you’re part of something else, a feeling, an emotion, an act, you’re not sure.

but you feel alive. and that’s all that matters.

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“ehg,” a groan awakens you from a deep slumber.

yeojin is conscious, and ready to take on the world.

not really though, she seems a bit lost actually.

blinking and grumbling to herself, she sits up, blankets strangling her.

you watch her, one eye open.

“i have a plan,” she says suddenly, and with a massive burst of energy, leaps out of bed.

“ow,” she growls at herself, having damaged her ankle from the excitement of her actions.

continuing on to the kitchen, completely unaware of the fact that you are awake, and does not care.

she is hungry, and needs food.

you follow her, dragging yourself out of bed much slower than her gymnastics-worthy jump.

she’s already gotten into the pantry. you shove her to the side, looking in yourself. she flings open the other door and pushes you over.

grabbing a box of cereal, you sit down. yeojin snatches another one, than looks in the fridge, snatching a bowl and spoon on her way there. you don’t ask how she knows where all your cutlery is. probably guessed.

sitting down, gobbling up her food with the same repulsive but somehow endearing way of munching, she finishes off the bowl in no time.

you expect her to make another one, but instead she licks her lips, looks at you and asks, “no milk?”

“huh?”

“you’re not having milk with your cereal.”

“milk is a drink and i can’t believe you eat it as a gravy.”

“well. i don’t agree.”

“sucks for you.”

“no it doesn’t. i have nice, soft cereal and you have crunchy cruanchy cereal.”

“you mean i have a beautiful, crisp breakfast and you have a mushy swamp.”

“no. that wasn’t what i meant.”

you open your mouth to retort, but she continues, “i have a plan.”

“oh wow. would you like to explain it?”

“no.”

“fine,” you say, but barely get a chance to spit the word out before being dragged to your feet.

“hey, what are you-”

yeojin pulls you towards the door. you follow her. what’s the worst that could happen?

‘wait here.”

“okay,” you comply, exhausted. how come sleep just makes you more tired? you were much more energetic last night, retreating to your bed with a wide smile on your face, eyes looking up at the ceiling, unable to close without seeing the adventures of the evening.

you wait. and wait.

you hear an engine start.

wait- you hear an engine start? you don’t have a vehicle? who? what? where? when? why? how?

flying around the corner, yeojin, with a helmet, boots, and a whole driver’s outfit, sits atop some sort of mechanical thingo that you have never seen in your life.

you stand there, dumfounded.

“wha- where did you get that?”

“built it.”

“what do you mean you built it?! how? how talented are you?!”

“eh,” she says, shrugging her shoulders, “i’m made for this type of stuff.”

she are speechless and continue to stand there.

“well?” she asks, “are you coming?”

“we’re going somewhere?” you have no idea what is going on.

“yeah, that was my plan.”

“where are we going,” you are already moving toward her, sitting behind her, holding onto her back.

“somewhere,” she says. you can’t see her face now, but you’re sure she’s smirking.

before you’ve even a tiny bit situated, yeojin accelerates, throwing you to the side. you are left clinging onto her waist for dear life.

you can’t see much of the scenery flying past around you, but you think yeojin is going north, towards the lunar capital, bexyim.

still wondering how yeojin managed to find the parts to make an whatever this is, i mean it’s so fast? how did she do this? you don’t have any oil either? this madwoman is more powerful than you thought.

you gaze out to the side. something catches your eye. fire.

“wait, yeojin, stop!” you yell, your voice getting lost in the wind. she halts the vehicle, throwing you forward. you get out, looking up at the sky.

“what is that,” you say to yourself, not even realizing you’re speaking.

“come on,” yeojin says, sounding urgent, like she doens’t want you too see what’s happening, “we should go, i’m sure it’s nothing.”

but you stay there, looking up at the stars. this time, they’re not alone.

burning metal flies down to the surface of the moon a few miles away from you. you can smell the smoke from here.

it’s coming from up above. from a battle.

the sounds of laser and missiles hurts your ears. there are ships firing at each other, sending one another down to the ground, ruthlessly destroying each other.

and the colors. you know them well. silver and red. moon and mars. and the last silver one just fell.

you turn around, looking at yeojin. this is why she tried to get you to look away. away from the way her planet is murdering yours.

“this? this is what your planet is doing?” you glare at her.

“it’s not my fault, y/n, how could i stop this?” yeojin says defensively.

“why did you leave so early last week?” you question. it’s all piecing together now. the sigil on her forehead isn’t just a mark of the marsians. it’s a mark of the marsian warriors.

“i- y/n i don’t have a choice!” you don’t listen, already turning away.

yeojin, the girl you were falling in love with, is fighting against your planet. the one you live on. the one where she is standing right now.

you start running. you don’t know where you going. but you have to get away from her.

you can’t believe it. there you were, falling in love with a person who is actively taking part in the long-standing oppression of your planet.

you should have known better. marsians are always like that. never valuing peace. never caring about other’s lives, only worrying about themselves.

you go faster, heading towards bexyim. you can see the skyline over the burning horizon. it looks dark, darker than when you first saw it.

it always happens like this. the “love of your life” betrays you and you run. escape from people and the disappointments they bring.

this time, you’re escaping someone different. someone who you never thought would betray you, she had a warmer feel, one that didn’t seem manipulative, it felt honest.

but you still run.

and yeojin doesn’t bother to come after you.

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masterlist ~ previous ~ next

#femifics #loona astrology #loona imagines #loona fluff #loona angst #loona reactions #loona scenarios #loona x reader #loona tarot #im yeojin #yeojin x reader #yeojin fluff #yeojin angst #yeojin imagines #yeojin imagine

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yourfaceislikeabluemoon · 4 years

Text

Suspicious With A Side Of Concern

Words: 3.9k

Warning: a little cursing and a tad bit of suggestive themes. seriously, just a smidge. this is v mild and v soft

A/N: uhh hi there 😊 it's been awhile heh but it's San's birthday (one of my ults) and I managed to write this! it's probably not that great and it's not edited (bc it's after 5AM 👍🏻) so I'm sorry if it sucks or is full of mistakes, I may come back to it and fix them if there's a lot. but uhh yeah! I love my sweet boy so much and I'm so proud of him and I'm feeling v mushy lately hehe 🤭 and yeah, yeah, I know I’m not funny but I make myself laugh and that’s all that matters right? lol also this is pretty self-indulgent (hmm I’m noticing a theme in my recent works haha) but I hope you enjoy it anyways! happy birthday Sannie!!! I love you to the moon and back ❤️❤️❤️

San was suspicious. And a little concerned, too. The kind of 'suspicious with a side of concern' that can make feelings of offense and being forgotten crop up. In other words: not good. And what time could be worse to feel 'not good' than the days leading up to your birthday?

OK, so that clearly was not your intention when you had initially conjured up your plan for your, frankly, rather significant and audacious gift for San's birthday this year. Typically, you go all out with anything you get or do for San because he's just fun to spoil like that. Like in past years, you'd taken him on mini vacations or got him lots of small gifts and gave them to him over a period of a few days. And you always spent the entire week celebrating, not just the day of. So, logically, if you had actually formed a plan instead of just devising the end result of said non-existent plan, maybe you would have thought of how San might react to things being so different than years past. But 'foresight', what's that?

When you noticed San was more moody and petulant than usual, you tried your best to make things seem as normal as possible, not wanting him to catch on to your surprise. You had found him pouting at the kitchen table late one night, a few days before his birthday. "Sannie, baby. It's three in the morning, is everything OK?"

"Are you mad at me?" he blurted out unexpectedly, not answering your question. When he saw your confused expression, he continued, "I mean, did I do something wrong? Something to upset you? I swear it wasn't intentional and I'm sorry that I don't know what it is. I-"

"Of course not, babe!" you cut him off, "I was just worried because I rolled over in bed and you weren't there when I tried to cuddle up to you. But what makes you think that I'm mad at you, lovebug?"

You slid into the seat next to him as he sighed deeply. "I don't know, I just… God! This is gonna sound so stupid and selfish and spoiled!" Taking his hand in yours to silently reassure him, you squeezed his fingers slightly and softly rubbed your thumb along his knuckles. He took a deep breath before he tried to explain himself, "Umm, this whole week has been different than other years? Like, usually we do lots of stuff for my birthday and this year we haven't done much of anything and I'm not complaining because it's not that I expect a lot of presents or a vacation or something and I haven't said anything because I don't want to sound spoiled or like I think I'm entitled to a lot of big, expensive things, it's just that I'm not used to it I guess and I think it's making me feel like I did something wrong to upset you so you aren't treating me like you usually do as some sort of punishment, not that I think you'd actually do that to me because you're the sweetest thing in the world and I know you love me and I love you so much and I just-" San let out a frustrated groan and dropped his head to the table with a loud thud. He sighed again and lowered his voice to almost a whisper, "That did not come out like how I wanted it to."

The gears in your head were turning as you stared fondly at your boyfriend, a small, sad smile curving your lips. You felt horrible that San thought you were upset with him because, after all, that's the last thing you want. San and his happiness and contentment is the most important thing in your life. You also weren't sure how you were going to explain yourself without revealing the secret you were working so hard to conceal. Winging it seemed like the best option at the time since you could tell San was getting antsy about your silence.

"Sannie, can you look at me, please?" you began. When he lifted his head, your eyes found each other's, while your empty hand searched for his. "I'm so sorry that I made you feel like I'm mad at you! I promise you that I'm not even the slightest bit upset with you. You did absolutely nothing wrong -- you're perfect, baby." Releasing one of San's hands, you reached up to gently push away some stray hairs that had fallen into his eyes before running your fingertips across his pretty cheekbone. "You should know that none of what you said sounded stupid or selfish or spoiled. We've built up a sort of routine and a sudden change to that can be kind of disorienting. You have every right to be confused and I'm not going to make up excuses for how different things have been the past few days, I won't do that to you. In all honesty, I've been preoccupied and a little distracted. But I'm sorry that I let that get in the way and I promise that it won't happen anymore. And I'm so sorry that I've already made this your suckiest birthday ever and it's not even your actual birthday yet! That's definitely a new record for me, ruining something before it even happens." You mumbled the last part, ashamed at yourself and silently hoping San wouldn't hear that bit.

He let out a small chuckle that sounded much closer to normal San, easing your worry slightly. "It's not sucky and you didn't ruin anything, which by the way, you know I don't like when you put yourself down like that," the evident pout in his voice faintly reddened your cheeks with embarrassment despite the fact that he wasn't even scolding you. You whispered a quiet apology and San brought your left hand up to place a kiss on your knuckles. "You said you're preoccupied and distracted but I'm not going to press because I know you'll tell me when you're ready." When you thanked him, he tilted his head and looked at you with pure adoration and you felt his gaze travel over the planes of your face. "Thank you for understanding me, even when my words are messier than all us boys in white shirts eating wings with no napkins."

Trying, and failing to keep a straight face, the two of you dissolved into fits of giggles. "I thought you were going to be romantic or something but you said that and-" you cut yourself off with another loud laugh and shook your head, smiling endearingly. "I love you, cutie! But you're saying weird things so I think we should head to bed. Not that sleep will actually help you but we can always try." San shoved your shoulder as you stood before scooping you up in his arms and peppered kisses all over your face.

San had been in a great mood the morning of his birthday, considering he had woken up to you bustling about the kitchen making his favorite breakfast while wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt. Strong arms and the frigid tip of San's nose against the junction between your neck and shoulder startled you, causing you to drop the spatula in your hand. He giggled softly at the small squeak you let out in surprise and squeezed you a little more snugly into his broad chest. "Mornin'," he mumbled against your skin.

"Hi," you chuckled as you shrugged him off to bend down to pick up the utensil that had fallen on the floor. You knew he was pouting when he had to let go of you and you could easily imagine the smirk that made its way onto his handsome face as he came up with his next idea, smacking your ass before you stood back up to place the dirty spatula in the sink.

You gasped in false offense, "How dare you!"

"Well, when you look like…" San gestured at you, his stare sleepy but very interested, "That, can you blame me?"

"I most certainly can! No 'Good morning! Happy Birthday!' kiss for you, mister!"

The pout returned to his face and damn, you're really weak for that pout. You sighed exasperatedly and threw your arms around his neck. "Good morning! Happy Birthday!" you announced with feigned emotion before pecking him on the lips and making an attempt to return your attention to breakfast. San had other ideas. He let out a sort of growl before effortlessly tossing you over his shoulder and strutting back towards your bedroom. "Wait!" you shouted weakly on account of San's shoulder uncomfortably pressed against your diaphragm, "Breakfast is gonna burn!" He paused in his stride, seemingly to try to decide on what to do, before turning and rushing to the stove to switch it off and then made a beeline for the mess of pillows and blankets he had left only moments before.

That afternoon, San was sprawled out on the sofa, a dreadfully bored look etched into his features as he flipped through the channels. Finding nothing to watch, he switched off the TV and turned to stare at the ceiling. The oscillating fan sat on the small end table next to the couch ruffled his hair and thoughtfully provided an awful high-pitched squealing sound as background noise for the otherwise quiet living room. Nervously staring at the clock on your phone while draped over a chair opposite the couch, your mind was racing to come up with an excuse for leaving the house a few minutes later. You had an appointment to keep aka "The Plan". Making a disgruntled noise, you pushed yourself out of your seat and made a command decision on what to say, "Uhh, I'm gonna go to the store to pick up some stuff for umm, for later." Failing miserably at sounding natural, you gestured toward the door and faced it.

"Ooh!" San shouted and you heard rustling like he was getting off the couch. "Let me come! I'm so bored."

You couldn't help the mischief that made itself evident over your features as you turned back around. "But coming along will spoil the surprise, don't you think?" Pleading puppy dog eyes and his cutest pout decorated San's face in response. "Nuh uh, not even that will work on me today!"

Sam's expression morphed into a combination of astonishment and amazement as he plopped back down onto the sofa, "Shit, this is serious if not even the pout can sway you!"

You nodded ruefully, "It's a special day."

Ping! A message came through on your group chat with the boys, made specifically for this plan and thus excluding San, and when you went to read it, you heard San mumble under his breath but couldn't quite make out what he said.

Joong-bug: outside with Woo! let's goooooo!!

Several more text alerts sounded off and San eyed you suspiciously.

Woo 🐻: C'MON I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!!!! Joong-bug: aaaaaand this is why he's forbidden contact with 'The Target' until 'The Plan' is complete… You: Be down in a minute! Joong-bug: hurry up!! he won't stop whining and pouting 😣 Mingo Mango: getin' ready 2 bust the door down now 😈 You: Jongho, I'm trusting you to keep them from breaking things Hulk 🍎: You have my word 👍 Yeo-Yeo: Pfffft like that means anything 😒 Y'know: hey, i asked you to chop vegetables!! why are you on your phone?? 😡 Yeo-Yeo: You're on yours! Mars: ……….help

Suddenly, you could hear two rather loud voices outside, gradually getting louder as they made their way to your front door. "Ah, you're in luck, sweetpea! Here comes your entertainment now!" Without giving Mingi the opportunity to "bust the door down", you quickly threw it open and in he stumbled with Jongho trailing more gracefully behind him, chuckling. San's face lit up in excitement and he bounced gleefully over to his friends. Mingi shouted something about playing ball and San whooped in agreement, causing you to chuckle fondly as you snuck out the door they had just come through since your boyfriend was already well and truly distracted.

Hongjoong and Wooyoung quickly came into view as you made your way down the last of the stairs, the younger hopping around like an over-excited bunny when he spotted you. He called your name loudly and ran to squeeze you and consequently hang off of you, grin bright and eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Hi there, bear," you giggled and squeezed him back before turning to Hongjoong. "You said he was whiny but you didn't mention he was extra clingy, too." No hint of annoyance in your voice, Wooyoung nuzzled into your shoulder and sighed happily.

Hongjoong shrugged, smiling affectionately at the younger, "I thought it was to be expected."

"It is a little hot for cuddles though, Woo," you told Wooyoung honestly and he nodded in agreement, letting go and scurried towards the parked car, screeching about being late. Hongjoong shook his head as he watched Wooyoung abruptly fling the door open and sit in the passenger seat, eagerly bouncing in place and urging the two of you to hurry up. "Everything all set?" you asked the older as you walked side by side to the car.

Rascality twinkled in Hongjoong's eyes, "Yep! All the stuff is either in the back seat or the trunk, ready to go!" You smiled and scrunched your nose at him before you both joined Wooyoung in the car and headed off to your destination.

A couple hours later, the three of you returned to your house, San's birthday gift sat on the back seat next to you. Wooyoung was animatedly squirming in his seat, teeth clenched together in a wide grin in an effort to suppress his squeals of joy. "Good grief, Woo! It's gonna be somewhat of a let down if you're more excited about this than San ends up being," you teased him fondly, reaching for your phone to get updates from the group chat.

You: We're back!! 🤭 Yeo-Yeo: Lemme guess, Woo's about to piss himself from excitement You: 😂 correct. Update on 'the Target'? Hulk 🍎: 'The Target' is about to get in the shower, Mingi and I will head down now Y'know: you can't just leave him!! you gotta at least give an excuse!! Hulk 🍎: You can't see me but I'm rolling my eyes right now. Mingi told him we're going home to shower, which isn't an excuse, it's the truth. We'll just jump in with everyone later 👌 Y'know: you didn't give anything away did you??!! Hulk 🍎: 😒 yes. We told him every detail. Of course we didn't! Mingo Mango: all good! we made it seem like we were leaving 4 the night! told him happy bday and everything 😉 Y'know: … :/ … You: … I'm slightly concerned but alright. How's 'The Plan'? Yeo-Yeo: Yunho is worried out of his mind now but we're cool, just waiting on the cue Mingo Mango: you mean the Q 😉👍 Hulk 🍎: He tripped down a few stairs while he was typing that ^ Yeo-Yeo: 🖕 (deserved) You: Hwa? Still have your sanity? Mars: *sigh* … barely You: You replied so I'm courageously going to take that as a positive. You guys can head over as soon as Jongho and Mingi are ready. I'll text when it's good to come up. Yeo-Yeo: OK Y'know: k Mars: yes

Laughing at their insanity and tucking your phone away, you glanced up to find Mingi and Jongho walking towards the car so you got out and attempted to get a little more information. "You guys have fun?" you asked, smiling warmly.

The boys beamed and nodded. "Lots!" Mingi stated, bouncing on his toes energetically.

"San seemed really happy so that felt," Jongho paused and rubbed at the back of his neck, "Nice." You felt your heart squeeze a little, knowing just how much San loved and valued the boys no matter what. "And we didn't break anything, just like I promised!" Jongho added proudly, puffing out his chest a little.

You ruffled his hair fondly before yanking your hand away in disgust, "Ick! So sweaty! Go shower! I'll see you two in a bit." The youngest laughed brightly and gave you a wave before heading off with Mingi offering a salute and stumbling after him. Making your way around the car, you opened the car door and gathered the gift into your arms. "I owe you two," you smiled and Hongjoong shook his head and chuckled. "Thank you!" Wooyoung giggled as you resituated the present in your grasp. "Don't forget the rest of the stuff when you come up later, please!" Hongjoong gave you a thumbs up and you shut the door with your hip before making your way up to give your boyfriend his surprise.

Unlocking the door and being as quiet as possible entering the house in an effort to sneak up on San was quite difficult but you managed. Luckily, he had his back to you, actually sitting normally in a chair for once and humming softly to himself. Stifling a giggle with your hand, you brought everything inside and shut the door, impressed with yourself at how quiet you were and hoped the gift would be just as silent. Slipping your shoes off to avoid more noise, you took one gift in each hand and tiptoed toward San.

You instinctively held your breath as you neared your boyfriend and tried not to squeal or giggle. In that moment, you definitely felt Wooyoung's enthusiasm. Right hand gently setting one gift on the top of San's head and left hand reaching around the phone in his hands to place the other present in his lap, you heard him gasp in shock. "Happy Birthday, sugarplum!"

The small kitten on San's head let out a tiny squeak of a meow and the puppy in his lap timidly licked at his arm. San tried to say something but all that came out was broken words and stutters. He reached up to pluck the kitten from his head and you helped untangle a strand of his hair from the kitten's tiny claws before he set it next to the puppy on his lap and turned part way around to look up at you. Tears were already falling, the tracks they left glinted in the sunlight that came in through the living room window and his bottom lip wobbled slightly, "Y-you. B-but. What?"

You slowly walked around the chair and crouched down in front of San, beaming and a little teary-eyed yourself at his reaction. "What do you think, Sannie? Does this make up for the difference in these past few days?" He choked out a sob and nodded fervently, lip still trembling as he stared down at the animals clumsily perched on his thighs.

San sniffled and lifted the puppy up to eye-level. It leaned closer to him and licked at the salty streaks on his cheeks. San laughed wetly and set the puppy back down before lifting the kitten up the same way and nuzzling his nose into its soft fur. After admiring them for a few minutes and calming himself down, San glanced at you, "This is what you were preoccupied with?"

You nodded and hummed faintly, "But not just this!"

Your boyfriend furrowed his brow and groaned a little, "There's more? I don't know if I can handle any more! I feel like I've had at least a dozen heart attacks in the last 5 minutes already!" You chuckled adoringly as San pouted at his puppy and kitten, talking to them about how his heart wasn't meant for stuff like that. While he was distracted, you shot a text to the group chat.

You: 'The Plan: Part 1' = ✅COMPLETE! Commence 'The Plan: Part 2'! Woo 🐻: AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Yeo-Yeo: 😒 Hulk 🍎: That emoji may imply that Yeosang is rolling his eyes but he's actually staring at Wooyoung with the most fond, loving look in his eyes Mingo Mango: heh Yeo just 🤜 Jongho in the 💪

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, waiting for the boys to come up and actually "bust down the door". Moments later, a cacophony of voices burst through the quiet room as the guys threw the door open.

"Happy Birthday! We brought food!" Yunho shouted as he muscled multiple grocery bags into your kitchen, followed by Yeosang and Seonghwa who were also carrying armloads.

At the same time, Wooyoung screamed, "Babies!" and headed straight for San and the puppy and kitten. The two boys giggled together and fawned over the animals while some of the boys loudly scuttled around the kitchen and the others went to greet the birthday boy and the new additions. You headed into the kitchen to see if you could help with anything.

Seonghwa looked less frazzled than you expected and his kind eyes lit up when they met yours. "Anything for me to do?" you asked him, going over to wash your hands in the kitchen sink.

He gave you a characteristic wonky smile as he bumped your hip with his, "I think you've had quite the day as it is!"

"Me? What about you? You sure have lots of beautiful hair despite dealing with so many children all the time!"

Seonghwa's smile was one of pure reverence, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

You tugged him into a tight hug. "I know," you whispered, "Thank you." Before he could say anything, you pulled away to look him in the eye, "And before you say 'You don't have to thank me' or whatever, thank you. I mean it and you have to accept it or I'll pout." He laughed heartily and nodded, eyes sparkling with joy as he went back to getting food put on the table.

You went around hugging and thanking the rest of the boys for all their contributions to San's special day and then gathered everyone up to sit at the table for dinner. The kitten and puppy played together peacefully and everyone glanced over at them once in awhile to coo at their cuteness.

Chatter was loud and warm, just the way it should be. San absolutely glowed with happiness and at one point when all the boys were laughing and carrying on together, he leaned over to you to whisper in your ear. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Only every day," you beamed, booping his nose gently.

He giggled and leaned even closer to press a sweet kiss to your lips, "Thank you," another kiss, "Times a million," another, "for making me," yet another peck, "so, so happy," and another, "I love you," and one more kiss. You grabbed his face so he couldn't pull away from the last one but it was a little difficult to kiss when you both were smiling so wide.

A chorus of "Ew!" and "Gross!" and "NOT AT THE DINNER TABLE!" echoed behind you so you reluctantly pulled away, giggling all the while.

"OK, OK!" you held your hands up in defeat before resituating. "Alright, on the count of three," San looked confused all over again but you sent him a reassuring wink. "One!

"Two!

"Three!"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAN!"

#ateez #ateez san #san #san fluff #ateez san fluff #ateez fluff #kpop fluff #bias/bias wrecker writing #happy birthday san

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rosedavid · 4 years

Text

I love you beary much

A tyrus oneshot

Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you all enjoy these two lovesick fools :)

...

It’s a stupid, embarrassing tradition, yet Cyrus can’t seem to bring himself to let it go. Despite its childish implication, the tradition has been around since the very first Valentine’s day he spent with Andi and Buffy. Valentine’s Day boxes were set out on desks, cards and candy being passed around to classmates. Just like everyone else, Cyrus handed out cards to all his classmates, but he had something extra special for his two new best friends: two dinosaur stuffed animals. They were his favorite animals of all time, so of course he had to gift them to Buffy and Andi.

Years later, Cyrus has kept up the tradition with encouragement from his friends. The tradition has extended to their new friends, like Jonah and Amber. Normally, he’s been getting them little stuffed trinkets, knowing that it’s unrealistic to give all of them full sized stuffed animals every year. They seem to appreciate them, at least, so Cyrus planned on doing it again the next year.

Then, he starts dating TJ.

It will be his first Valentine’s Day with an actual boyfriend. The thought that he won’t spend Valentine’s Day as single for once completely blows his mind. For once, he can’t joke around with his friends about being alone and fill their faces with ice cream while watching cheesy romantic comedies. This Valentine’s Day is the real deal.

A week before the fateful day is when Cyrus remembers that TJ has never been involved in the Valentine’s Day tradition. And suddenly, he begins to feel embarrassed about the whole thing. It’s one thing to admit to TJ that he’s slightly obsessed with dinosaurs, but it’s a completely different thing to tell TJ that he has a bunch of old stuffed animals packed under his bed that he brings out sometimes when he’s lonely or scared. Even just thinking about it makes Cyrus go red in the face.

He decides to present his dilemma to Andi and Buffy at The Spoon a few days before Valentine’s Day.

“What are you doing with Marty for Valentine’s Day?” Cyrus presses as he anxiously shoves baby taters into his mouth.

Buffy responds, “Nothing really. We’re just going to order pizza and spend a night in at his house watching epic sports fails clips.”

“Do you think TJ would want to do something like that?” he blurts out, nearly choking on a baby tater. Beside him, Andi pats his back a few times while he coughs.

“Cyrus, you’re like the best gift giver I know. If anything, we should be asking you for advice,” Andi says.

“But it’s different! This is Valentine’s Day. It’s the most romantic day of the year, and TJ is like the King of Romance.”

“The King of Romance?” Buffy drawls skeptically.

“It’s true! For our 1st month anniversary, he surprised me with a picnic at a nearby park that has swinging benches and gave me a scrapbook of pictures of the two of us! And another time, wrote me a composition on the piano. And then--”

Buffy wrinkles her nose. “We get it, TJ is sickeningly romantic. But Cyrus, no matter what you get him, he’s going to love it because it’s from you.”

“What were you planning on getting him?” Andi wonders.

“Well, I mean, I was going to get him a stuffed animal since it’s a tradition, then I was going to make him a music playlist because he loves music so much—but it’s stupid and embarrassing! I mean, TJ probably isn’t even someone who likes mushy Valentine’s Day stuff.”

“Cyrus…” Andi frowns. “Don’t doubt yourself so much. I think that sounds really sweet.”

“What if he hates it or laughs?!”

“Then I’ll punch him,” Buffy interjects.

“Buffy!”

She crosses her arms with a sigh. “Okay, don’t ever repeat this, but Cyrus—TJ is like infatuated with you. I’ve never seen someone look so lovesick before. I don’t think he’d ever make fun of you, unless maybe you got him a piece of rice with his name on it.”

“Hey!” Andi complains, “It was an…. interesting, gift.”

They all dissolve into giggles, and the mood loosens a bit.

“Now that that’s all settled…” Cyrus trails off with a smirk. “What are you going to get Amber for Valentine’s Day, Andi?”

Andi’s face heats up bright red as Buffy joins in on the questioning. It was definitely a mistake to tell them about her crush.

“Amber probably has like a hundred Valentine’s, why would she want one from me?” Andi groans.

“Because she likes you!” Buffy grins. “Please, Andi, why else would she stumble over her words whenever you’re around? Amber never stumbles over her words.”

Andi shakes her head. “You two are being ridiculous. Amber doesn’t like me.”

Buffy and Cyrus glance at each other, conspiring for a split second before starting to sing. “Andi and Amber sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S—”

“Stop!” Andi gasps, struggling to cover their mouths with her hands. “What if she was working? You two are evil.”

“We could continue,” Buffy suggests, “unless you get her something for Valentine’s Day.”

Andi sighs in defeat. “Ugh, the worst part is I already made her something!”

“That’s so cute!” Cyrus gushes. “Your crafts are the best, Andi. If you made it, Amber is guaranteed to love it.”

“Thanks, but enough talk about dating and crushes. How about some tater theatre? I’ve missed it at SAVA,” Andi suggests. Buffy rolls her eyes as Cyrus immediately gets started into a harrowing story. For the afternoon, he gets his mind off of the whole TJ and Valentine’s Day situation. But his worries are far from over.

He manages to find the cutest stuffed animal that reminds him of TJ so much and buys it on a whim the next day. He even manages to finish putting together the playlist for TJ, full of some of their favorite songs as well as songs that Cyrus listened to relentlessly while pining over him (not that he’ll tell TJ that). It all seemed to be falling into place.

Then, Cyrus wakes up the morning of Valentine’s Day, and it all becomes real.

No matter how hard he tries, his hair won’t cooperate. His favorite shirt has a big stain on it, he stubs his toe on his bedside table, and he can’t find his other shoe anywhere. By the time he gets to school, it’s a miracle that he’s still in one piece (well, mostly, because somehow one of his shoes got soaked through from stepping into a dirty puddle and turned the white material a sickly brown-gray).

He walks into school and immediately spots TJ chatting with one of his basket-ball teammates. His heart stops as he sees him standing there, a beam spread across his face and a hand ruffling his fluffed up, blonde hair. That’s his boyfriend, and it’s Valentine’s Day, and ohmygodhe’scomingover—

“Hey, Cy,” he greets. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” A kiss presses to his cheek.

“H-Hey, Teej,” Cyrus stutters, fingers reaching up to linger on the spot where TJ’s lips touched him. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I uh, I got you something, but if you hate it it’s completely okay because I know it’s kind of stupid, but…”

He continues rambling as he yanks out the flattened bag from his backpack and ungracefully shoves it in TJ’s hands. He knows the blush is overtaking his face all the way to the tips of his ears but is unable to stop it.

TJ pulls out the stuffed, orange tabby cat with a heart collar and laughs. Cyrus flinches, because of course he laughed. It’s dumb, and he shouldn’t have gotten it. “I’m sorry, I know it’s ridiculous. I can take it back—”

TJ brings it to his chest protectively. “No way! Missy belongs to me, now.”

“Missy?” Cyrus giggles.

“Well, she has to have a name! Let me give you my present now.”

Cyrus’s hands shake as TJ shuffles around in his bag for the present. Finally, he brings out a bag that looks similar in size to Cyrus’s with a sheepish grin on his face. He almost looks just as nervous as Cyrus.

Cyrus tenderly takes the bag, pulling back the tissue paper to reveal a soft, stuffed bear with the words “I love you beary much” stitched onto the belly. He laughs incredulously, grinning up at an equally smiling TJ.

“I kind of overheard from Jonah that you have a tradition of giving your friends stuffed animals, so I thought that you deserved one in return.”

Cyrus can feel his heart beating through his shirt. The smile on his face stretches impossibly wider until it hurts. He clutches the bear to his chest in a similar fashion as TJ did with his stuffed cat.

“I think I should name him Thelonious,” Cyrus decrees, resulting in a sputtering TJ.

“Cyrus!”

“Don’t worry,” Cyrus placates, grabbing his hand. “I already have the perfect Thelonious in my life. I think I’ll name him Sir Bearrington.”

TJ chuckles, squeezing Cyrus’s palm. “Maybe I should have named my cat Cyrus.”

“Actually, I got that stuffed cat because I thought it looked startlingly similar to you. Same grumpy expression. If anything, we should name it TJ—”

TJ cuts him off with fingers tickling into his sides. Cyrus dissolves into laughter, clutching at his stomach while he holds his bear in front of him as a protective shield. “S-Stop! I s-s-urrender!” TJ smiles, pulling back his hands.

After Cyrus catches his breath, he suddenly remembers the playlist. “Oh, I almost forgot! I have another present for you, kind of. I’ll send it to your phone.”

Confused, TJ slides his own phone out from his front pocket, opening the link that Cyrus sends a few seconds later. His eyes scroll over it curiously until understanding finally washes over his face. “Cyrus, this is…amazing! Thank you.”

“Hopefully the songs are alright,” Cyrus says. “Some of them are our favorites, and others are ones that reminded me of you.”

“You should come over tonight so we can listen to it together, if you want?” TJ suggests. “We could get some food for dinner, too.”

Cyrus nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, that sounds great. Really great, actually.” He squeezes his bear tightly to hold in his excitement.

With one final goodbye peck, TJ heads off to his first class. As he goes, Missy is still protectively clutched in his grasp. Cyrus holds Sir Bearrington in a similar fashion, thinking of TJ. Needless to say, the stuffed animal tradition will be continuing on for a beary long time.

#tyrus #andi mack #andi mack fanfic #tyrus fanfic #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #andi mack fic #tyrus fic #fanfiction #valentine's day

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ifeellikeameowster · 4 years

Text

E.V.O.L Chapter 3- Living Dead

Chapter Summary: After a bit of a rough morning, Virgil decides to visit the grave of his long dead best friend... Meanwhile, Patton has finally graduated and is ready to take on his first assignment as a newly appointed cupid!

Warnings: Beginnings of Yandere like behavior, stalking, watching other’s without them knowing, wounds, stabbing, blood.

Pairings: One-sided moxiety.

Word Count: 4k+

Chapter followed by Author’s Note then Tag List under the read more:

Everyday I feel the same.

Stuck, and I can never change.

Sucked into a black balloon.

Spat into an empty room.

The next day Virgil found himself waking before even the roosters themselves would have crowed.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and cursing his wishy washy biological clock, he wondered if it was too early to grab a bite of breakfast. He had missed dinner the previous day, after all, having been too tired from being forced to socialize for so long with someone so new. His parents would probably understand if they caught him. They always did.

He shrugged and slung one of his lighter weighted blankets over his shoulders before taking a few shaky steps away from his bed. His legs felt like jello, making it tempting to just go back to the safety of his little nest and spend all day inside of his room. But the obnoxious rumbling of his ungrateful stomach made that nearly impossible. So to the kitchen it was instead.

Virge tried his best not to step on any creaky floorboards on his way out of his room and down the stairs. If his parents weren’t already awake, then he certainly didn’t want to be the loud, fumbling asshole that actually woke them up. Heaven knows they deserved all the rest they could get. They did so much for him. And for the whole neighborhood, for that matter.

Wonder if there’s any of those blueberry bagels left. He pondered as he descended the final step.

He went past the living room and into the kitchen, where upon after he entered, Virgil was immediately met with his answer.

“You’re up early, V.” Talyn said around a mouthful of their buttery bagel, “Can’t sleep?”

“More like slept too much.” Virgil corrected as he joined them at the breakfast bar.

Talyn was a Banshee, a wailing ghost that had the ability to warn others of approaching death.Though, they usually used their glorious screeching voice for the screamo parts of their band’s songs instead. Once in a blue moon however, especially back when Virgil had done something particularly rebellious when he was a teenager, he had had the pleasure of witnessing firsthand the more negative side to their voice. Between his maddy’s booming voice and the sad puppy dog eyes his pops had sent his way-it was easy to see why his version of a ‘rebellious phase’ had been cut short.

“I’d chastise you for your poor sleeping habits but I’m honestly not one to speak myself.”

“You’re a ghost, you don’t even need to sleep.”

“And yet here we are.” They waved the hand holding the bagel, sending some crumbs flying, “With me taking afternoon naps and staying up all night like a heathen.”

“God, same.”

“We’ve rubbed off on you too much, little one.” Talyn chuckled, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Me and Joan. Why don’t you take after your papa more too?”

“Pops is too sunshiney for me, maddy. I’m half convinced he’s made of literal sunbeams at this point.” Virgil sneered out with a fond undertone as he gently lathered butter on his own bagel, “I’m more of a punk moonchild, ya’ know?”

Maddy was the affectionate nickname he had given Talyn as a kid. He was pleased to later find out that, unlike with dammy, other kids sometimes used maddy for their nonbinary parents too.

His maddy chuckled at that, patted his shoulder, then returned to devouring their own breakfast. They both sat in a comfortable, companionable silence for a while as they finished up their food and took in the morning sights through the wide kitchen window. Then as the birds started up their autumn songs and the sun started it’s slow trek over the horizon, they both got up to put away their trash and tidy their mess. As he was putting his blanket over the couch for later cuddling-while-watching-tv purposes, Virgil’s eyes unfortunately happened to land on the calendar hanging next to the entryway. The sight of a certain circled reminder of a date he had been trying to forget caused a past pain to resurface just as hot and stabbing as the first time it had ever appeared in his heart.

He reentered the kitchen with a familiar, haunting grimace. Talyn sent him a fleeting confused look before it morphed into one of understanding instead.

“It’s next week, isn’t it?” They breathed softly, “The anniversary.” Their tone held an unnecessary weight of guilt. For even though they were a Banshee, they had not been able to foresee that death. The most important one. The one that had hurt their child so much at such a young age.

“Yeah,” Virgil choked out, tears threatening to brim his eyes, “If...I’m being honest...I’m not sure if I can make it, this year.”

“Well maybe…” They bit their lip and shifted on their feet nervously, “Maybe you can just go now? It might be less pressure, if it’s not the day of.”

“I-I don’t know, maddy. I’m still kind of worn out from yesterday.”

“Ah, the matchmaker meeting. I almost forgot about that.” Talyn moved to lean back on the counter, “How did that go?”

Virge sucked in a breath, blinked away the wetness of his eyes, and thanked whatever higher power may be for the change of topic. “Terrible, I hate socializing. Also it felt like I was being hounded by a teacher with how many questions I was being asked.”

“He needs to ask questions, dear. How else would he know what you like?” They sent him a sympathetic smile that didn’t quite meet their eyes. The mood of the room was still soured by the date hanging ominously on the wall. Taunting them both with it’s ever approaching red circle.

“What I would like is to not have to go to these meetings at all.” Virgil whined. He hopped up to sit cross legged on the countertop beside his maddy. “Why’d you and dammy even talk to him anyways? I thought pops was just going through one of his romance craze phases again, but…”

“But, we all agreed it’s what’s best for you. It’s not healthy to only ever hang out with your family. You need to spread your wings, sweet little baby boy.”

“Ew, baby talk.” Virgil mimed throwing up before crossing his arms and pouting. “Why’s it gotta be some stupid dramatically set up romcom though? Can’t I just go to an online group chat for depressed-emos-anonymous or something?”

Talyn did a laugh somewhere between a giggle and a chortle at that. They playfully swiped at his shoulder. “No, you idiot. Just listen to your parents, okay? It’s time. Way past time, actually…”

“Time to what? Get some?”

“Find someone to love. Someone to...give your feelings too.”

“I give mushy lovey dovey stuff to y’all all the time!”

“Not like that, V. To…” They tapped a frustrated rhythm onto the countertop with their long, pointed nails. “To obsess over. To be attracted to and fawn over. Stuff like that.”

“To bone.”

“Virgil!”

“What? That’s the only difference, ain’t it?” He sighed as he leaned over to place his head on their shoulder. “Why can’t platonic love be enough? I've been doing just fine with just that…”

“Honey…” They let out a sigh of their own before running a reassuring hand through his hair. “That may have been enough until now, but trust me you need this.” The soothing touch of their petting almost calmed him, until- “We need this.” They ended in a strained whisper, yet unfortunately still loud enough for him to hear.

Virgil jolted away from Talyn and off the counter as if he’d been burned. “What? You’re...You’re all trying to pawn me off or something? Finally tired of me being a fucking mooch?”

“No, no- Little one, that’s not what I-”

“Well if I’m such a leech, maybe I will go hang out in the graveyard with the rest of the rotten worms.”

The tears that had pricked at his eyes earlier decided to return, yet once more he held back the flow of the damn. His eyes reddened with the strain of the repression. Still, he refused to cry around others. Weakness was an ugly shade of color to wear. He wanted to toss out all of his flaws from the closet of his inner self and go shopping for better traits. But maybe, he couldn’t help but think...he was the one that needed to be tossed out right along with them.

Got bubble wrap around my heart.

Waiting for my life to start.

But everyday it never comes.

Permanently at square one.

“Tell the others I’ll be at the church.” He snapped instead as he rounded the corner and stomped up the stairs. He no longer cared if he woke anyone else up. His body was brimming with aggravated energy and his mind was swirling with all the possible negative implications of those few simple whispered words.

The day had barely begun and he already had a massive headache.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After having haphazardly thrown on the nearest clean clothes he could find and all but running out of his house and into the nearly empty street, save for a lone old maid that was bird watching on a nearby bench, he began to make his way over to the cemetery.

On his way there he stopped by Fauna's Florals to pick up a small bouquet of soft and pale yellow roses, the flower of friendship, because that's what he had been to him- the truest friend he would probably ever have. Besides his family, of course, though they were kind of obligated to hang out with him. And he was beginning to wonder if even that reliable, familial obligation had started outstaying it’s welcome.

Miss Fauna, having noticed his red rimmed eyes, had given him a sympathetic smile and a pat on his hand as she handed over the bouquet. He shied away from the unwanted contact and thanked her in a small voice. It was the loudest one he could muster at the time.

When it's late at night-ight,

I'm so dissatisfied-ied.

The weight of an empty life-ife,

Will lessen in the moonlight.

In the light,

In the light,-light,-light.

Shooting Star Cemetery was luckily located in the next street over, making it an easy and short walk. Yet not nearly a long enough a walk to clear his head any from the raging storm it currently housed inside. The graves were all well kept and neatly aligned. The landscaping was done with care and sheer professionalism. The overall atmosphere was more bright and welcoming than one would expect a place housing the dead could ever be.

Virgil moved past the groundskeeper with quick steps, not wanting to have to engage in any conversation with the man whose smile always seemed to stretch too far over his face and whose eyes appeared to linger on his form for too long. Especially not today of all days. He thought as the conversation from earlier resurfaced in his mind. Fresh and unwanted.

His feet took him to his destination almost on autopilot. He had been visiting this particular grave at least once a year for almost seventeen years now. Of course it would be practically hardwired into his system at this point.

“Hey, buddy.” He called out wearily as he approached. Virge leaned over to place the bouquet of yellow roses directly in front of the ivory gravestone before stepping back to sit on the grass across from it.

The stone was the lightest of the ones in its row, almost basking it in an ethereal spotlight. The carvings of angels, ribbons, and roses around it’s surface only accentuated the holy glow. In the dead center, carved in looping and elegant cursive writing, was the epitaph.

It read,

“Patton Sangster:

A young Cherub bright and fair,

Taken from this world too soon.

Now he is way up there,

Dancing between the Sun and the Moon.”

Definitely more fancy and vague than most of the epitaphs around here. Virgil mused, Then again Mrs. Songster was always the poetic dreamer type.

While on the other hand, if he had a gravestone, it would probably say something like "Here lies Virgil Spurling: What an idiot" or "Virgil Spurling: Died of Depression and General Dumbassery".

He let out a long sigh and curled his legs underneath him while crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t believe the week I’ve had, Pat.” He began, “I think my parents have lost their ever loving marbles. Don’t get me wrong or anything- I love them a bunch. But I just don’t...I just don’t get why they’re doing this, ya’ know?”

“They’re insisting I see this stupid matchmaking witch doctor guy, who probably thinks I’m a loser by the way-he seemed kinda stuck up and I kept making a fool of myself as per usual. And like they want me to get hitched to some dude ASAP I guess so I can ‘spread my wings’? Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean?”

He started waving his arms around to accentuate his ranting, ”But a part of me can’t help but think they’re just trying to get rid of me. Just pawn me off to a random guy so I can be out of their hair! But they...They’ve never said or done anything like that before...They’ve always been so nice to me and so supportive and so loving so I just don’t…”

Now, in the sanctum of this empty cemetery and the equally emptily promised presence of his only friend, he finally let the tears fall quietly and slowly down his ever reddening cheeks. “I just don’t get it anymore, Patton. Nothing makes sense. It hasn’t for a long time now. Ever since...ever since high school, really. And I just…”

“I just wish you were still here.” He hissed into the morning air as he closed his eyes and let his eyes finish emptying themselves so he could hopefully return home with them dry and pretend that they had never been crying in the first place.

From several yards away the groundskeeper stole glances at the strange visitor as he worked his usual surveyal of the grounds. However, his gleaming, unwelcome eyes were not the only pair that happened to be following Virgil that day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Patton Sangster, newly appointed cupid under Eros, had just finished the last of his angelic training and was lined up with the rest of the lucky graduates about to receive their first heavenly assignments.

Finally! He cheered in his head. A chance to prove that all of his training wasn't for nothing. He may be light hearted, but he certainly wouldn't take his heavenly duties lightly. He would prove without a doubt that being soft hearted didn’t mean he was weak. Far from it in fact. He considered the overflowing love he had in his heart to be his greatest and most cherished source of strength.

Little did the little cupid know just yet, but that unbridled and passionate love of others would soon be his very downfall.

I'm living dead, dead, dead, dead.

Only alive-live-live-live.

When I pretend-tend-tend-tend.

That I have died, died, died, died, died, died.

An elder, more experienced cupid passed back and forth in front of the recruits with a golden clipboard they had summoned. Odiel, patron cupid of dark love ballads, was surprisingly the one giving the assignments to the newbies this year. He listed off each angel and their assignment with a resigned sigh and dramatic flip of the page. He went through many graduates before finally getting to Patton, which had caused the poor angel to bounce nervously on his feet.

"Patton Sangster?"

"Yes, that's me!" He nodded eagerly with a dazzling grin.

"Hm." His superior clicked his tongue before looking at his clipboard. "No official angel name given yet. No patron title earned yet."

Patton's eager expression flickered, a brief frown gracing his features before they turned back into his patton-ted steadfast smile.

"We'll just assign you to your old hometown during life, then. And see where it goes from there."

Patton gasped, bringing his hands up to cup his face. "Heartwish City?!"

Odiel pauses for a moment to check another page on their clipboard. "...Yes."

"Yay! Oh, I can't wait to see everyone again! And help them out!"

"Mhmm. Well, you will have to wait a bit more. There's still orientation to get through."

"Oh, of course." His smile turns more nervous, "Yes, sir."

And with that, the rest of the graduates were assigned before they all headed over to the orientation stadium.

The clouds are thicker and fluffier around the stadium, which is covered in red, pink, and white decorations and gold trimmings. Eros himself stands on a stage floating gently above them. Some of his more well known cupids fly beside him and his effervescent presence. They give the awaiting crowd reminders of what-to-do's and what-not-to-do's before Eros finally speaks.

"Today is the day you truly become cupids. Go forth and spread love, devotion and admiration wherever you may fly to. Prove your loyalty both to me and to my almighty mother Aphrodite. Be the best angel you can be." He intones in a booming voice accompanied by grand hand gestures. He then bows his head toward the crowd of new cupids in respect and waves them off, officially dismissing them to their new posts.

Patton, having been absolutely jittery with excitement throughout the whole orientation, immediately flaps his small, pink and blue hummingbird like wings and takes off into the early morning sky.

His flight time is shortened by both his familiarity with the destination and his newly appointed status. So much so that to any outside spectator, he would have arrived there in the bat of an eyelash.

As he glided over his old town, he spotted several people he once new. Miss Fauna was putting up a new display in front of her flower shop. Tia and Ana were putting up an ad for their speciality tea of the day. Dr Picani was leaving the Blue Fairy Therapy building while glancing at his watch. And many, many more lovely and well missed faces.

But the one he had missed most of all was currently over at the Shooting Star Cemetery, sitting criss-crossed applesauce right in front of his grave.

Sure, he hadn't seen them in over seventeen years, not since their childhood together. But he would be able to recognize that pale face and protective spirit anywhere! This was his best friend we were talking about, after all. And Patton never took his friendships lightly. So he did a spiraling turn in the air to change directions for this newfound destination. He could worry about his other duties later, he had a dear friend to visit!

He hovered over the cemetery like an excited bee hovering over a group of flowers, staying close to the sparse clouds strewn about the glorious sunrise. Not only had Virgil grown up healthily, but he had even remembered him! And was currently paying respects to his grave, apparently. He leaned forward and focused his hearing on the sounds happening down below him.

"You wouldn't believe the week I've had, Pat." Oh dear, what could have happened? Is whatever it was the reason he was visiting? "I think my parents have lost their ever loving marbles. Don’t get me wrong or anything- I love them a bunch. But I just don’t...I just don’t get why they’re doing this, ya’ know?”

What could they have possibly done? Patton remembered Virgil's parents, three queer platonic partners who had always adored their son. They were loved by the whole neighborhood and Patton himself had also enjoyed their company whenever he had visited Virgil's house for playdates and sleepovers. He couldn't imagine them ever doing anything to harm their beloved child! But, if they had hurt Virgil somehow…

“They’re insisting I see this stupid matchmaking witch doctor guy," Ohhh! A matchmaker, huh? Virgie really had grown up! It seemed like just yesterday the two of them were talking about the other boys possibly having cooties during recess. "Who probably thinks I’m a loser by the way-he seemed kinda stuck up and I kept making a fool of myself as per usual." Well that didn't seem very nice of whoever this matchmaker fellow was. Patton would never think of his assignments as losers...everyone was equally deserving of love after all!

"And like they want me to get hitched to some dude ASAP I guess so I can ‘spread my wings’? Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean?” Wait just a minute...Matchmaker...Wings...Patton was a cupid now! Duh. The solution was obvious!

Patton puffed up his chest and fluttered his wings excitedly. He could be Virgil's new, better matchmaker. And nothing would make Pat more happy than having his childhood friend being his first assignment as an official cupid. It was all falling into place so well, almost like destiny! But Virgil was talking again now, so Patton tuned back in.

”But a part of me can’t help but think they’re just trying to get rid of me. Just pawn me off to a random guy so I can be out of their hair! But they...They’ve never said or done anything like that before...They’ve always been so nice to me and so supportive and so loving so I just don’t…”

Ahhh, this was all Virgie's anxiety getting to him again. He had always been a worrywart, even back when they were kids. He guessed some things never changed, not even when it had been so many years. Back then, Patton had always tried to ease his worries and be the most supportive friend he could be. But even at his best and most empathetic, he had been far too young to quite comprehend the full depths of Virgil's emotions.

He looked back at Virgil only to find tears running down his cheeks now, marring his dark eyeshadow. Oh dear sweet Aphrodite- he was crying! “I just don’t get it anymore, Patton. Nothing makes sense. It hasn’t for a long time now. Ever since...ever since high school, really. And I just…”

Highschool? What had happened in high school? Did someone hurt his dearest friend while he wasn't there to protect him? Patton leaned even more forward and gripped the clouds nervously.

“I just wish you were still here.”

Patton froze. Only holy magic and his grip on the clouds keeping him in the air.

I lay back in a glittering mist,

And I, I think of all the men I, I could have kissed.

I haven't lived my life, I haven't lived love,

It's just a bird's eye view from, from up above.

A part of him wished he was still there too. And that same part of him wished he had been there beside Virgil through it all. Had been there in highschool to prevent whatever it was that had hurt his Virgie. Had been there to tell that rude matchmaker off for him. Had been there to give him a lesson in proper etiquette and respect towards his clients. Had been there to help his parents find a better matchmaker. And even to help Virgil pick only the best partner for a great guy like him.

He released a breath he didn't even know he was holding in the first place. But he was here now! And he could help him now!

Now filled to the brim with determination- He hurriedly fumbled to summon his bow and quiver, which he had been storing in his Grace, and pulled out a red romantic arrow from the bag. In his haste, however, he had nicked the side of his arm with the tip of it. He paused to look at the offending wound, wondering if a nick was considered the same thing as a pierce. It wasn't, right? He didn't remember them saying anything about scratches while in the heavenly academy. Oh well, it was probably nothing to worry about! It hadn't come anywhere near his heart, after all.

Besides, Patton had much more pressing matters to attend to. And a heart that needed a connection only he could create was waiting for him. A connection that would transcend the very heavens themselves! Pat would definitely find Virgil a beloved partner that could kiss his many worries away. Many, many kisses. Kisses for that kissable mouth...and soothing voice...and soft looking cheeks…and pale, elegant hands...

Patton shook his head furiously to rid himself of those lucrative thoughts. Sure, Virgil had grown up handsomely, yeah. But this was Patton's best friend he was talking about! How could he be thinking such scandalous and traitorous things? Besides, he had chosen Virgil for his very first assignment. He had to be more professional than that! He had to prove himself a worthy cupid both to Eros himself and to his fellow angels.

He moved to expertly draw his bow, with the same arrow that had previously drawn his blood, poised in the direction of the huddled figure below him. Just as he was about to finally fire, however…He heard it.

"Patton." Just a whisper. A whimper through tears. Just a mumble amidst other unintelligible cries of sorrow.

And yet it felt like a shout. A cry for help. A plea for him. It rang through Patton's ears with the force of a hurricane and knocked him off of his balance.

The arrow cracked and twisted off it's place on the bow and turned to stab through his heart.

He choked on the blood that had bubbled up into his throat and desperately pawed at the arrow lodged accidentally into his most valuable organ.

The words of one of his superior angels and teacher, Balladeil, flared up into his mind. A cupid was not meant to take a cupid's arrow. A cupid's arrow was not made to be used on a cupid.

"Oh Eros!" He cried "Oh no!"

He grabbed at the arrow and started yanking on it. Trying to pull it out of his chest. But it was being stubborn, latching onto his Grace and using that to keep ahold of him. More blood gushed from the wound only to be consumed by his Grace as it tried to heal him from the intrusion. Tears started pouring from Patton's eyes to match Virgil's.

Then, before he knew it, the arrow had melted into his heart and merged into his Grace. And the connection had been completed.

Patton stared dumbfoundedly at the clean space where it used to be for several solid minutes. The wounds were completely healed now and the blood was all gone. It was too late. He had been too late. He had failed.

He took a shaky breath and moved to collect his bow and quiver.

He stored them carefully back into his Grace.

He looked back down at Virgil, who was getting up from the ground now.

He flew slowly over the graveyard as Virgil walked hurriedly past the leering groundskeeper.

He followed Virgil silently all the way back to his home, often passing by a strange crow that happened to be on the same flight path as him.

He watched over Virgil for the rest of the day and way on into that night.

Did I really deserve it?

It happens when you're hurting.

And cut me at the surface,

Of my heart.

Of my heart-heart-heart.

A/N: Patton, you darling idiot. You would have been fine if you weren’t so clumsy. X3 Anyways, hope y’all enjoyed! The next fic I’ll post will be that Creativitwins one shot I mentioned earlier. And then it’ll be right back into the E.V.O.L au! ;3

Tag List:

@accidental-sanders

@ren-allen

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@virgil-the-void-kitten

@totalwhovian

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#sanders sides #sanders sides au #e.v.o.l au #sanders sides e.v.o.l au #moxiety #one sided moxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #character!talyn #yandere #stalker #my fics #if you thought any of these ships were gonna be slow burn on the other's parts then you were sadly mistaken lmao #poor virgil

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cilliansaccent · 4 years

Text

Class of Temptation - CHAPTER EIGHT

Leave a like, reblog or comment below to show your support and love! Enjoy…

PLEASE READ:

No mention of Cillian’s true family or relatives. All names are made up.

This is a TEACHER x STUDENT fanfiction, it’s going to be kinky and very taboo!

I will write whenever the mood grabs me, so I apologise if there are long breaks between chapters :)

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Background: Tessa is a twenty-three-year-old model from a broken-up family, living in London with her best friend and starting a course on Drama and Theatre. Though, when she gets closer to the super hot Mr Murphy who is her much older teacher, there is a battle of lust and love between them. They’ll have to figure out what to do with their tight relationship as other issues begin to rise and nip at their heels…

Word Count: 5,088

!!Warnings!!: Mention of female x female sex after the bath Tessa has

Chapter Name: It’s Dinner Time

Brief Chapter Outline: Tessa returns from her week in Sydney only to be called on for Dinner with her so-called ‘family’. The night is a disaster, only she is saved by someone at the end of the night...

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Cillian had not seen Tessa for a whole week and had not gotten a message from her either if she was away for work or not. It was a crucial time now as he was going around the class, while they worked on an essay, to see where each person was up to in their project.

Julian seemed to be quiet, giving him simple answers.

"Julian, I need to know if Tessa has been pulling her weight," Cillian said, having sat down beside the boy.

"Of course she has. She's been working hard with me and doing anything she can if I am unable to do them." He said, focused on his laptop as he wrote his essay.

"Okay. Good. But do you know where she is? She hasn't been here all this week." Cillian said, watching Julian sigh and sit back.

"Honestly? I wouldn't have a clue, she's been talking to me but very little. Must be her work, probably has a tight schedule." He shrugged and resumed his writing.

Cillian nodded but found it odd and went to everyone else before he went to sit down at his desk. He whipped out his phone, thinking as he stared at the screen. He had an Instagram but it was private and he barely used it, only to keep in contact with previous workmates... Nothing more.

He pressed his lips together, Tessa had an account... And then? What was he going to do? Stalk her? No, he would see what she was up to.

Typing her name away, she came up instantly and he clicked on her name. He saw the first photo, it was posted a few hours ago. She was with some girl who had auburn coloured hair. Both were standing beside a pool at night, wearing nothing but a bikini bottom that did little to nothing in hiding their backside, their... chests pressed together and grinning at each other.

His brow rose as he quickly swiped to exit the photo. It seemed she was very busy these last few days, walking down a runway in some very skimpy lingerie.

Okay. He was going to stop now and exited the app. This was so not right, staring at the ass of a student of his. What the fuck.

Cillian shook his head and opened up his laptop, he would send another email to her in hopes she would reply back.

------

Tessa was glad to be back home, she was extremely tired, jet-lag always got her the worst and she was close to her period since she had stopped taking birth control. So her moods were through the roof and Esther never seemed shaken from her snaps.

Friday evening was spent unpacking her shit from her suitcase, after that she made a bath and put on some low-fi beats on Spotify and sunk into the water with a soft groan. She checked her emails and found two from Cillian, both concerned on where she was and why she had not checked in on him. There was no use to reply back as she was going to see him on Monday anyway. She'll explain then.

Though a call came through her phone and she frowned as she saw Mila's name flash up.

Tess answered the face time, "Hey," Tessa gave her older sister a smile. She still did not trust her enough for what she had done to her.

"Hey, little sis. You relaxing?" She asked. She was laying back on a bed, it seemed.

"Yeah. Came back from Sydney today." Tess replied.

"Nice. What for?" Mila asked.

"Company emailed me to see if they can do a temporary partnership and do some shoots and a runway for them. Then partied hard the last few days." And fucked Esther more than once. In a bed. With other girls and guys. Alcohol did things to you.

"Damn, it looks like it. Those hickies says a lot." Mila raised a brow but Tessa could see the disgust in her eyes.

"Yeah, I had heaps of fun. So what you call me for? Something important?" Tessa continued on, wanting to be alone.

"I've organised a dinner tomorrow night with all of us." Mila had sat up, her hair falling around her shoulders.

"Us?" Tessa frowned, tilting her head to the side.

"Yeah. You, me, Aria..." Mila seemed to trail off and Tessa pursed her lips.

"Who else, Mila?" Tessa said with more force, wanting to hear those words.

"Dad and mum. And her sons." Mila glanced away knowing exactly what was going to happen next.

"You're fucking kidding- No. I don't want to see that bitch or her devil spawns. I'm not going. Fuck that." Tessa snapped, anger shooting through her.

"Tessa! Come on, Dad wants to see you so badly, at least do it for him-" Mila snapped back with the same annoyance.

"No! God, I would rather sit with horse shit and eat dinner with that than see him or that witch he married." Tessa shook her head, "Fucking hell. You really are so fucking blind? What he do? Bribe you with money? Help you pay off those debts you got? Is that why you are all so mushy suddenly?" Tessa narrowed her eyes.

"You're a bitch, you know that? You better be there tomorrow, or I'll come and drag your stupid ass out. You need to step up for once." Mila said furiously, "Fine. For Aria's sake cause she said she's coming. It would look bad if you didn't show up." With that Mila hung up.

Tessa let out a cry of frustration and threw aside her phone, "Fuck!" She laid her head back on the headrest.

"What happened?" Esther ran in. She was only in her thong and a bralette.

Tessa glanced at her, heat pooling between her legs instantly, "Stupid family shit." She said as she sat up slowly.

"I gotta fight anyone?" She came closer, crouching beside the tub.

"No." She examined her face, then cupped it with a hand, "No fighting." She shook her head as her nose brushed hers.

"You sure? You look like you want to." Esther murmured, her hand covering Tessa's.

"I know. But I want to do something else, that'll help me calm down." She leaned in and kissed her hard and deeply.

It wasn't long when Esther was in the tub, naked and moaning as Tessa fingered her beneath the water. They both touched and kissed and sucked, pleasuring each other before they both came with a loud cry. Water was spilt but neither of them cared as they got out, kissing each other still as they crumbled on to the floor in the living room to continued, locking themselves in a scissoring position and grinding hard against each other.

The friction was amazing, Tessa thought. It always was. She could feel Esther's pierced clit rub against hers as they became more sloppy and faster as another climax tore through them.

Esther then went down on her friend, taking in a pierced nipple first to tease her there. Tessa loved her nipple piercings to be played with.

The night was erotic and hard, Tessa needed it. They fell asleep in each other's arms in Esther's bed as they had finished there.

Next Day, Nighttime...

Tessa really couldn't believe she was actually going. Somehow Aria rang her up and begged her to go and not let her suffer on her own.

She was doing this ONLY because of Aria.

No one else.

Tessa pulled her black hair in a high ponytail, spraying back any loose strands. She applied make-up on, pulled on a white silk blouse that did not need a bra on (thank fuck) and tucked it into the uneven skirt that was red and had a crazy pattern of what was like flowers and shapes with gold, black and some browns.

She grabbed her black leather cross-body bag, made sure she had her phone, wallet and keys. If she was drinking tonight, she wasn't going to drive.

"'Kay, Esther, I'm going. See you later tonight hopefully. If I live." She muttered and heard the soft 'bye' from her friend and slipped on her pearly silk pointed shoes and took a Uber to the Hotel that the dinner was being held at.

Arriving at the fancy-ass hotel, Tessa swayed her hips as she walked in, her expression dead serious with a hint of bitterness.

Still, it didn't sway the men watching her.

Once in the foyer she spotted Aria and walked over, "Aria. Hey." Tessa gave her sister a smile.

"Oh thank God you came." She stood. She wore a dress, tight at the waist and flared out. It was a deep green dress with a simple silver belt around her waist. She wore black flats and her black hair was braided out of her face.

"I'm only here for you, no one else." Tess hugged her gently.

"I'm glad. I can't believe we have to be here." Aria rolled her eyes.

"I know. I didn't even know they were already here." Tessa sat with her on the couch.

"What do you mean?" Aria looked confused.

"I'm the only one? Bastard is sending me cards and he sent one where he's coming for Christmas. I guess he couldn't wait for that." Tessa frowned.

"How? Wait..." Aria gritted her teeth.

"Mila gave him my fucking address, and I've been so careful to keep myself hidden from him." Tessa shook her head, still annoyed as hell.

"She did not! What the fuck, why you as well? She knows how much you hate him. Why do this honestly?" Aria scoffed.

"Because dad wants to bring the family back together, Aria," Mila said as she came around to stand before them.

"You realise that's a little late now? I don't want him in my life, nor does Tessa. And how dare you fucking give him her address!" Aria stood up, fuming. "You have no right!"

Mila rolled her eyes, "Shut up and let's go. They're waiting." Mila turned.

Tessa gripped Aria's arm gently and whispered, "Don't. Let's get this over with and leave as fast as we can."

Aria huffed and nodded as they headed into the restaurant. It was that soft whispering that filled the massive room, someone in the corner was playing the piano and everyone was well dressed. The walls were an off white with massive oil paintings of angels and warriors and whatnot. There was a big crystal chandelier with smaller ones peppered around the room in symmetry. It was like walking into a ballroom back in the early nineteen-hundreds.

Tessa brought her eyes back to the front and saw them all.

Grace, an old hag with a mean and wrinkled face, wore a necklace of pearl and diamonds with matching teardrop earrings. She wore a floor-length gown of blue silk with off the shoulder short sleeves. She had a fox pelt around her shoulders. Her brown hair tied up in a knot, not a single strand left out.

Her father, sitting on her left was in a classic, crisp cut suit. His black hair still thick was slowly showing greys but slicked back. She was glad she had her mothers eyes, blue instead of the shrewd brown eyes he had. They matched Mila's.

And on the right... The two fuckers Grace called sons.

Xavier was thirty-nine and had the brown hair and green eyes much like his mother. There wasn't much of a difference in the similarities they had. He had a little girl and was married.

His other brother, Ethan, thirty-five had reddish-brown hair and the prettiest of green eyes. But that was about it. He had a clean-cut beard and wore black glasses. Also, he was a father of two boys. Ew.

They were wolves with sheepskin on the outside.

"Ah, my lovely daughters." Jack, her father, stood and hugged Mila then faced Aria and Tessa and stepped to give them a hug.

Tessa stepped back with Aria, "Let's sit." Tess said and gave her father a tight smile and sat with her sister close. She was thankful that Mila would be the barrier between her and her father.

Jack frowned and sat down, "Okay... Well, how have you two been? How is the wedding preparations going, Aria?"

"Going fine," Aria said, her legs crossed and her hands folded on her lap.

"Do you need any-"

"Nope. I am very capable of doing it myself. Dorian and his family are helping me. I don't need any more help." Aria glanced at Jack. She could see he was annoyed.

Grace cleared her throat, "You both have not acknowledged me or the rest of your family."

Tessa slid her eyes to the woman, "What other family, Grace? Just an acquaintance that I need to deal for tonight."

Mila coughed, giving her a nudge under the table.

"As always, rude and misbehaved. You should come back with us, I can teach you some manners." Grace narrowed her eyes.

"I have some, don't need any crap from you." Tessa kept her gaze, she would not back down on this bitch.

"Anyway, I want to eat. Can we finally order?" Tessa said as she glanced over the menu and was set on what she wanted and waved the waiter over.

Once the table ordered and their wines were bought over Tessa was first to pour herself and Aria.

"Mine, too." Grace held her glass out.

"You got hands." Tessa set the bottle down.

"Excuse me-" Grace started.

Mila took the bottle, "Sorry. She isn't in a good mood." Mila poured the glass.

"Thank you. Should learn from Mila. She's been a very good girl these past few months. Very proud of where you are at." Grace nodded.

Tessa didn't seem interested in what Mila was up to. But it seemed like this dinner was not just a family dinner.

"Oh yes," Ethan chimed in with a wicked smile, "She's become our head designer, working alongside with mum with the designs for our company."

"And I woke with Gucci, Tommy Hilfiger and Prada." Tessa sipped her red wine more.

It made Grace stiffen a little, the light uplift of her nose, "But wouldn't you rather work with family than strangers? You wouldn't be where you are now without us."

"I can agree on that, the last bit, but I would rather work with all these other brands than your shitty company," Tessa said with ice laced in her voice.

"Tessa." Jack cut in, glaring at her, "What is wrong with you?"

"I'm tired and I want to go home," Tessa said, not even giving her father a look over.

No one spoke as their food finally came and silence fell over the table as they ate.

"I've heard you are doing... A course. On what?" Grace asked after she was done eating and took a gulp of her wine.

"Drama," Tessa said, eating her food slower.

"Drama? You want to be an actor?" Grace gave her an odd look.

"Yeah. Or, well, I hope so." Tessa shrugged.

"Why? Such a... Waste of time. Modelling is much better, no?" Grace tilted her head to the side.

"Well, I don't care much about what you think. I want to do this and so I will." Tessa shook her head and wiped her mouth when she was done.

"So you would rather throw away what you are doing for some sleazy career? Honestly, I guess it suits you." Grace muttered.

"Excuse me?" Tessa stilled.

"Okay, girls, please. Let's not start this, we are here for Mila's step in the right direction-" Jack tried to calm the situation down.

"Shut up. I knew fucking well not to come, I don't give a rats ass about Mila's 'step in the right direction'. What the fuck does that mean, huh, Jack? You still not fucking proud, hm?" Tessa raised her voice, people began to look over.

"Tess, just relax. All I am saying is that maybe you need to look to her, follow her steps." Jack frowned.

"I agree. Instead of all of these flights around to other countries where you can get god knows what disease and drinking and... Kissing women? Tessa, you can do so much better." Grace tried to act as if she gave a damn.

It made Tessa angrier, she glanced at the table with utter disbelief, "I hate every, damn, person on this table. Except for Aria who seems the only sane person here." Tessa threw down her napkin. "I'll do what I want to do, I fucking kiss whoever I want and I'll drink as much as I want. You," she pointed a finger at her father, "You never cared what I did. You never showed me any kind of love or kindness, you left me to fucking rot with these scumbags. And god above I pray that their kids see what fucking monsters they are."

"Don't you dare talk to your brothers-"

"They're not my fucking brothers, Grace!" Tessa yelled, people looked over, "You are nothing to me, bitch. Never was. I don't ever want to sit here with any of you."

"Tessa, please you are making a scene. Just calm down damnit." Mila grabbed her arm.

"Let me go, traitor. You knew I hated Jack and yet you still gave him my address. I hate you for doing that. I really do." She snatched her arm back and Mila looked hurt.

"Tessa. Enough." Jack demanded with a hard tone, glaring at her. "You really need to learn a lesson, I will not allow you to g-"

"You have no fucking control over me, Jack. None. I have my own job, you can't do anything." Tessa began to rise up. Aria had already escaped out of the booth, waiting to go. She wanted to go.

"I am your father-!"

"You are not my father, I lost him when he married this witch!" She pointed to Grace. "You mean nothing to me! I was happy without you all, I thought you would see the shit Grace has done but you don't. You have no idea what she did to me when you were not home. You never cared."

"I don't even know what you are talking about." Grace rolled her eyes, "Darling, she's going crazy. Let her leave. Besides, look at her. She has no shame whatsoever, look at those disgusting things on her neck. She'll turn into a whore and drunk much like her mother-"

Tessa felt her world stop and she grabbed the glass of red wine, nice and full the glass was.

And threw it at Grace.

She let out a cry as the wine-stained her ugly face and her white fur shawl, much like the blood Tessa felt down her face as she laid in the bathroom when she was only seventeen.

"You damn girl-" Grace was full of rage.

"Damn you too, bitch. Don't ever come back into my life," Tessa began to get out of the table.

But Ethan had snuck out a foot in time when the waiter was carrying over a very soupy like food.

Tessa tipped right into the man as the sauce went all over her. She fell hard on the floor, the metal tray smacking her in the head.

"Jesus Christ," Aria shoved the baffled waiter and tried to help Tessa up. Her silk shirt was soaked and exposed her skin beneath. Her make-up was running. "You really are monsters." Aria looked at the four at the table.

No one flinched or made a move to help, they were all fussing over Grace who was whinging like a baby.

The two girls left the dining room, everyone watched.

"Let me take you home." Aria held her little sister close.

"No. I- I need to just be on my own." Tessa shook her head, holding back her tears.

"Are you sure?" Aria frowned, "It won't be a bother."

"Please, Aria. I want to be alone. We get lunch tomorrow, yeah? When do you go back?" Tessa looked at her.

"Monday. I'll come to you at twelve?" Aria cupped her face with a hand.

"Okay. I'll see you then." She gave her a slight smile.

"Aria! Tess!" Mila called as she ran over, "God I am so, so so-"

"Leave it. We don't need it," Aria held up a hand, "Just go away. You showed us where you stand, oh precious one." Aria and Tessa left her standing there in the foyer.

"Call me when you get home, okay?" Aria said.

"I will. Goodnight, Ari." Tessa whispered and watched her leave.

Tessa walked down the street, arms wrapped around herself. It was quite cold but she didn't feel it, her mind blank but also roaring at the same time. Tonight was terrible, a big ass failure. She could not believe it.

She walked for however long, but as the rain began and grew harder she stood in the middle of the pathway, looking up at the sky, "Why!? Why me?!" She screamed in frustration. She shut her eyes and didn't know if she was crying or not.

Then she felt something warm slide down her leg and she looked down, lifting her skirt.

"Fuck." She cursed. Her period came.

Just then, light-flooded her as someone opened the door. She turned and squinted at the person who stood in the doorframe.

"Who- Tessa?" The Irish accent gave her those butterflies once more. "Is- Are you okay? You look like a mess." Cillian rushed down with an umbrella, holding it above her head to shield her from the pelting rain.

"Come in, come in." He placed a hand on her back and guided her in.

"No- I shouldn't Cillian." She tried to getaway.

"You are shaking and drenched and covered in what... Soup?" He glanced at her, not staying too long at her chest.

"Yeah soup. Bad accident. Cillian, I don't even know. I want to go home." She felt a cramp hit her and she groaned, hunching over.

"Are you hurt? Tess, talk to me-" He gripped her shoulder as his eyes drifted down to see what was dripping on his hardwood floors. "Holy fuck, are you bleeding?!" His eyes were wide.

"I got my period! Oh my god!" Tessa was so embarrassed! "I didn't bring a pad-"

"Don't worry. My sister leaves some here when she comes over. Let's go to the bathroom." He took her up the stairs and into the bathroom, he riffled around the cabinet and found a pad for her and a clean towel. He handed it to her. "Clean up, take as long as you want, and then we talk." He patted her shoulder and left her be.

She blinked and didn't waste time.

She got into the shower and kept her hair up so it didn't get any wetter, she scrubbed her face clean and then got out and dried up. She was glad she kept a pair of undies in her bag and used them with the pad.

But now it was clothes.

Just then Cillian knocked on the door, "Tess? I got uh, some clothes here."

Tessa wrapped the towel around herself and opened the door, hiding behind it, "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. You don't want those ones again, do you?" He raised a brow.

"No, I don't." She smiled slightly and took the items and closed the door once more. It was tights that fitted her and a grey sweatshirt with a hoodie and a single pocket in front. It was fluffy inside it.

Tessa cleaned up the blood on the floor and anywhere else and gathered her dirty clothing and stepped out. Her hair was let down and was a massive fuzzball. Happens after the rain touches it.

She took a quick moment to admire the top floor. It was much like downstairs, dark wood with patterned cream walls that had photographs of what looked like Cillian's family and friends. It had a very Irish touch to it. It was like a cottage almost.

She could hear the fire downstairs and she headed down, Cillian had cleaned up the blood drops on the steps and blushed. She walked through the small hall that leads into a small kitchen and dining room in one.

Cillian was leaning against the counter, facing towards her as he waited for the kettle to boil, "Feel better?" He asked.

"Uh, yeah. Thank you. I'll make sure I return the clothes." She said, standing in the threshold awkwardly. She still had her clothes in her hands.

"Here," He leaned down and pulled out a small plastic bag and came over to her, "Put those in and come sit down, I'm making tea." He said.

"Oh, no. I don't want to stay any longer. I gotta head back home." She shook her head, not wanting to intrude any longer.

"It's only nine-thirty. Half an hour and I'll take you back home. Tea will help you." He said with that lovely, nonjudging smile.

She pouted, "Okay. Tea, half an hour, and I go." She gave him a look.

"Okay. Agreed." He said and went to go pour the hot water into two cups.

Tessa pulled out her phone and gave her sister a call, telling her she was safe and in bed and she would see her in the afternoon.

Cillian held the teas on their saucers, "Let's go into the living room. Much nicer." He said.

Tess followed him and she plopped herself on the two-seater as he handed her the tea, "Thanks." She muttered and took a small sip. Perfect temperature and she loved her Earl Grey teas.

The silence between them was... Good. She didn't feel any hint of awkwardness or any pressure to talk. The warmth of the crackling fire in the hearth would warm her, but would not melt the ice around her heart.

She took this moment to look at the room, a beautiful bay window overlooked the garden he had at the front, the rug beneath her feet was fluffy and a soft grey colour that broke up the dark wood that filled the room. He had a large flat-screen TV mounted above the fire and on either side was thick bookshelves full of picture frames, awards he had won from acting, books and what seemed like records for the record player he had tucked in the corner.

"Would you like some music?" Cillian asked after he caught her eyeing the player.

"Oh, no, no it's okay. I just haven't... Seen one since I left home." She sipped her tea some more.

"Oh? Your parents liked listening to it?" He rolled the 'r' a little and she found it quite cute.

"My father would play it on days that were hard, especially around the time we moved countries." She found herself saying and frowned.

"Where are you originally from?" Cillian asked, turning the cup in his hand around slowly.

"Sydney. But I... Don't remember much, vague memories. Mostly when I lived in Amsterdam and now in London." She murmured, trying not to remember those dark memories. They were not things she wanted to remember.

"Wow, that's alright. Did you like Amsterdam?"

Tessa took a moment to reply, struggling with the memories that were threatening to rip open the chest she kept buried deep within her.

"Tess?" Cillian's brows deepened and he leaned forward, his hand slipping over the softness of her wrist, "Hey, it's okay. You don't need to tell me."

She nodded only, "It was okay. But I'm happier here in London." She said, glancing up at him. The fire illuminated his face, bringing out those lovely freckles and making his eyes paler yet so staggering she couldn't look away. The firelight made Cillian seem so ethereal, the gentle curve of his neck to the curls of his hair.

Cillian was entranced by her. Her eyes seemed like glowing pools yet full of such pain and sadness, her skin rich golden from the light of the fire, hair as black as night in which he wanted to touch, run his fingers through the strands. And then... Those full lips parted slightly, and then the slender neck where he could see... Bruises? Or were they....? He gulped and looked away, sitting back and removing his hand from her wrist.

"Let me go clean up the kitchen real quick, and uh, I'll drop you off?" He said as he stood.

"Okay." She smiled, her cheeks were red as she passed her cup to him.

He nodded and left.

She watched the fire, she had just witnessed Cillian, her teacher, stare at her for a long time now. He was really looking at her. Taking the details of her face. She wondered what was going through his mind?

Was she pretty to him? Did she have something he liked? Or was she just some other student who was going to mess up in class? And the fucking hickies... Was she seen as a slut to him?

She sunk down on the couch, letting out a shuddering breath. Tessa was overwhelmed and wanted a break, real bad. But she was already halfway through her first term, it would be a waste to give it up now... But maybe it would be good. To get away from all those girls in her class.

Fuck she still hasn't said anything to Cillian about Julian. What a good friend she was.

Tessa shut her eyes, the words whore and drunk like her mother rang in her tired mind. She hadn't even noticed she had fallen asleep.

When Cillian returned to the living room he saw Tessa had fallen asleep. He wasn't sure whether to wake her up as this was... Not right. To have a student in his home... But god, the way she looked. So at peace. He sighed softly, it would be only one night, he thought as he came over quietly. He lifted her legs and stretched her out on the couch the best he could without waking her. Cillian grabbed the fluffy blanket and pulled it over her a little before he waited for the fire to die down some more.

Cillian gave Tessa one more look over. For such a young, beautiful girl, she had so much pain that twisted her heart beneath that skin. And by the looks of how she had stood in front of his home... Tonight had not gone well for her.

He could only wonder what had happened.

#cillian murphy #thomas shelby #teacher x student #peaky blinders #fanfiction

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arcticwaters · 4 years

Text

preview of my nightingbee fic

the start of a new decade seemed like a good time to post a peek at the fic i’ve been working on for almost four years now. i’ve been feeling bad that it’s something i’ve talked about a lot, but it’s taking me so long to finish (this is exactly why i’m completing the whole thing before posting; six chapters took me almost four years) so i thought, hey; i’m gonna post the first chapter, just for tumblr. not the whole chapter tho, but about 75% of it.

i’m now working on chapter 7, out of a possible 10 - depending on how things work out and what post-game stuff i decide to make its own fic - so we’re in the home stretch with it. i really hope i can finish it this year, i’ll try my best.

currently untitled nightingbee fic chapter pairing(s): leliana & sera, sera/inquisitor, leliana & inquisitor, leliana & josephine word count: 4,569 (full chapter is 6,015) chapter summary: leliana tries to figure out what to make of sera

****

Leliana pretends not to notice, but Sera has been hovering just outside her tent for most of the morning. To be honest, she’s rather surprised that their newest recruit is up at this hour – she doesn’t seem like a morning person, and the sky is still dull with early dawn – but perhaps that’s none of Leliana’s business. She keeps her head down, bent over the small wooden planks she calls a desk, skimming over reports that had arrived for her during the night, but she can see her out of the corner of her eye. Sera paces nervously, snow crunching, just far enough to mistake for background noise to anyone not paying attention. Was she looking for something, or someone? It was hard to tell what Sera was thinking, she was too new – only a few days in now – and unpredictable for Leliana to get a handle on just yet. Perhaps in a few more weeks.

They’re running low on ingredients for poultices. Those were important. She makes a note to mention this to Cassandra, she should know. Josephine as well.

Snow crunches slowly but louder, and Leliana turns her head to find Sera now much closer to her, freezing as soon as their eyes meet. Her ears are slightly lowered, and she appears to be holding a bundle of something in a tattered rag; her free hand clenches at her side.

Sera takes a breath and says, “Er… you’re the Orlesian one, yeah?”

Leliana schools her expression, but inwardly she’s taken aback by the unexpected question. “Yes…?” she replies, hoping she doesn’t sound too curt.

“Right. You uh…. I didn’t hear your voice when we first met? Quiet one, you.” Sera blinks and her brow furrows, head tilting to the side as she stares at Leliana intently. Studying her? Leliana shifts a little uncomfortably, and steps away from her makeshift desk, straightening up to her full height.

“Did you need something?”

Sera shakes herself out of wherever her thoughts went. Her foot shuffles against the ground. “Right! Y’know how I came from Orlais-”

“Your accent sounds Fereldan.”

“What? No, I’m not from there, I was staying there. Whatever.” One of her ears flicks, almost imperceptibly. “When I left, I took some stuff with me, cause I thought, ‘hey, cold town in the mountains, probably doesn’t have a lot’a stuff.’”

“Is that your way of saying you stole this… stuff?” It comes out a little more humorously than Leliana meant. Even without the report of stolen “breeches” days ago, she knows a pickpocketing rogue when she sees one, oh yes.

Sera huffs. “Why? You gonna get me in trouble, Knifey? Long way to Orlais.” Leliana tries not to let it show but she bristles at the nickname. She’s no stranger to them, but it’s too early and she’s not in the mood to deal with sudden disrespect. (What did that even mean? Yes, she was good with knifes, but she was well known for being an archer.) Her gaze must harden because Sera swallows hard and both of her hands start twitching. Interesting. “Alright, look. Do you want this stupid thing or not?” She unwarps the rag in her arms and shows Leliana what appears to be a slightly squished pastry. A strudel of some kind? Fruit, most likely, a mix.

Leliana stares at it, confused. That’s what Sera had been so nervous about? She wanted to give her… food? “Not to be rude but… why are you giving me this?”

Sera shrugs, avoiding eye contact. “Dunno. It’s Orlesian, you’re Orlesian. Seemed right? Thought you might want something from home, seeing as you never freakin’ eat around here.”

Leliana travels so often that she just barely considers Orlais her home by this point… but it’s the thought that counts, she supposes. But how would Sera know about her eating habits? She’s not wrong, sometimes her work gets so overwhelming that Leliana forgets to eat (and secretly, she finds much of the food here at Haven hard to stomach. It’s all mostly thick, sloppy stews, qualities she avoids as best she can. Is there harm in giving her portions up to someone else? She can live on meager vegetables, its fine.) She’s certainly not public about it.

“And you know this how?”

Sera blinks. “Cause I watch…? What, like you’re the only one here with eyes?”

Leliana doesn’t have anything to say to that. How odd, this young elf managing to leave her rather speechless. She only nods and holds out her hand, and Sera roughly shoves the cloth into her arms – nervously or overenthusiastic? Leliana can’t tell. She picks up the pastry and examines it closer. It looks like its seen better days, but seems edible enough. By the time she looks up, Sera has scampered her way back in the direction of the tavern, the footprints she leaves behind hasty and frantic. A quick little thing.

She takes a small bite of the pastry; it’s a bit stale, but the cold has kept it mostly preserved. Perhaps Sera found a suitable hiding spot for her goods. She sets it aside. It’ll be something nice to pick at until midday, when she’s sure Josephine will find her and make her have a proper meal.

For now, she simply watches the tavern.

------

She hears voices outside her tent. Odd, she’d been sure she was the only one awake at this hour. She supposes she should’ve turned in for the night by now, but moments of lonely quiet are few and far between. Leliana takes them when she can; they give her time to collect her thoughts. Sometimes she prays, if the notion strikes.

The voices come closer. She quickly blows out her candle and listens.

“What are you talking about? Flissa’s adorable.”

“Pfffffft, sure, if you like all meeky. Pretty, I guess. Not my type.”

“Pretty is my type.”

“Yeah, I bet it is.”

Ah, of course. Adaar and Sera. The two had become fast friends over the last few weeks, no doubt over their shared love of women, goofing off, and heavy teasing. They were often found together at the tavern, and unsurprisingly, they both seem a little tipsy tonight, lots of giggling and clumsy-sounding steps.

Leliana huffs quietly; does the Herald not have better things to do? she finds herself thinking. (It’s the middle of the night, an inner voice tells her. Leliana ignores it.) She’s sure they’ll leave soon.

“Does Flissa like girls?” Sera asks.

“I dunno, never asked,” Adaar replies. “With my luck? Probably not.”

Sera laughs. “You’re thinkin’ of Cassandra!”

“You bet your pretty ass I’m thinking of Cassandra.” Sera giggles harder. “It’s always the ones that look it, you know? I can’t figure her out. Have you flirted with her? She seems to like it but…. I don’t know?” Snow shifts under the qunari’s heavy steps, as if she’d just kicked at the ground. “Am I being too subtle?”

“What, you lookin’ for a lay?”

“No… well…. Ye- no, I just wanna know what she likes.”

Leliana shakes her head. Oh, those poor, poor little fools.

“I can’t be subtle. Look at me.” Adaar continues. She sounds like she’s trying to cheer herself up.

“Gladly.”

Leliana can’t tell if she wants to roll her eyes or not. It’s… endearing, listening to a couple of drunken young women – though she doesn’t quite know how old either of them are yet; perhaps they simply make her feel old – discussing other women, a subject Maker knows she adores. But it’s also childish and… and mushy. This is not the time or place to discuss such things.

Not that she’s bitter or anything.

“Look,” Sera says, “it’s the mockingbird’s tent.”

“No, it’s nightingale, Sera.”

“That’s what I said.” Ah, the mild disrespect from Sera continues. Well, she’s been called worse. Sera’s voice drops to a hoarse barely-whisper. “You think she’s in?”

Leliana holds her breath.

“Oh… I hope not. She’s mad at me.” Adaar actually sounds like she’s pouting. There’s a soft fump of her weight falling into the snow. “I just wanna leave her be right now.”

Sera blows a raspberry. “That one’s always mad at somethin’. Guess to be a Hand, you gotta be a grump.”

Leliana quietly taps one finger on her desk, wondering if there was even a point to staying here and waiting for them to leave. She’d get more peace by simply going to bed.

“This morning something happened with her… people, I guess? Agents? One of them died, and she wanted to kill some guy in revenge. I stopped her.”

Though Leliana can’t see her, she’s familiar enough with some of the Herald’s tics at this point to imagine her running a hand through her hair. There’s a shifting of snow, possibly Sera plopping herself down as well. Clearly neither of them are worrying about whether she’s here or not; she wonders what this conversation would be like if they hadn’t been drinking.

“You stopped her? You. You were a mercenary, I saw ya beat a bandit’s face in the other day. Why would you care how violent she gets?”

“I thought Cassandra would be upset with me if I let her? I dunno….” Adaar pauses for a while. “It just didn’t feel right, you know? I’m not against murder when it’s some asshole who did us wrong but… I told her I’d help her, not let her get all knife happy.”

“Knifey Shivdark?” Oh, that’s what that meant.

“Right. I just… I don’t think that’s really her.” Adaar sighs, and when she speaks it’s muffled, just for a moment, her hands on her face most likely. “But I think I just got her upset with me. She’s avoided me all day. I didn’t want that… I like talking to her.”

Leliana pinches the bridge of her nose and rubs between her eyes. She’s not mad.

Alright. She’s a little mad.

Leliana has spent most of the day reflecting on her discussion with Adaar, going over her choices. Bulter won’t be in their custody until further down the week, and she finds herself quite glad to have him still alive. In her anger that morning, it hadn’t occurred to her that he might’ve had a motive to betray her. A benefactor? An enemy? His own devices? He’d tell no tales dead.

She’s not upset with Adaar – Ren – she just doesn’t want to admit that she was right.

“You’ve been here a while now,” she hears Renegade continue, “does she make you nervous at all? I know you have an issue with… higher ups.”

“Nah… I mean, she’s terrifying, sure, but she’s alright,” Sera says. Leliana is honestly surprised. “Caught her bein’ all sweet to her birds the other day. Like, talking to a puppy sweet. She scary? Yeah, sure. Never wanna get on her bad side. But if you’re gonna baby talk a crow, you can’t be all bad, right?”

“That… is adorable. See, I know there’s more to our little bird.”

Leliana is rather offended; she is not adorable, thank you very much. But she does care for her birds, she won’t deny that. They like little pep talks. And they are ravens.

“And y’know… she’s sad all the time. Kinda hard to really judge someone who’s grieving, innit? Maybe her broody thing will get old soon, but, eh, don’t mind leaving her be until then.”

Hm. Sera appears to be much more astute than Leliana has given her credit for. It hadn’t occurred to her that the elf was paying that much attention to her. She’ll have to remember that.

“And I swear I’ve see her before, I know it.”

“You haven’t figured it out yet?”

“No, it’s driving me mad!” Sera groans, and there’s the sound of snow shifting, as if she kicked or swatted at it.

“Maybe it was a different redhead?”

“Yeah, sure. Plenty’a redheads in creepy purple hoods out there.”

Leliana hadn’t removed her hand from her face, and she’s glad, as she can’t help the quiet laugh that bubbles up and she is not going to have her cover blown by a Maker damned snort. Sera, however, laughs openly at her own joke, that loud, infectious laugh that’s becoming quite well known around Haven. Leliana hears a soft thud and Sera’s giggles are muffled. She guesses Ren shoved her over.

“I... I forgot what I was gonna say next,” Sera says between snickers. “What were we talking about?”

“How Leliana’s my new best friend, cause you can’t take anything seriously. It’s decided.”

Whatever helped the Herald sleep at night.

“You like her more than me.”

“Hm….”

“Right, see? You paused, that means you do!” And suddenly Leliana finds herself in the apparent middle of some kind of… love triangle. She knows they’re both joking – mostly? – but she still makes a mental note to ask Flissa to limit the amount of late night drinks these two are allowed from now on. “I mean… I get it…” Sera continues, and she sounds flippant, possibly shrugging. “She’s pretty and all.”

“Yeah she is. I can like more than one woman, you know.”

“That’s weird. Not… bad, just weird.”

“Well… that’s how I am.” Ren says, voice a little softer. She laughs dismissively. “Why are we talking about this, anyway? Not like it matters. None of the ladies here like me, except for you.”

“Yeah, I’m right here, you arsehole.”

Oh, seems they were finished talking about her. (A shame. She was almost reveling in it. Almost.)

Ren laughs again. “I know that, you silly fox. We haven’t known each other long, though. Unless you like to go hard and fast?”

“I’m not in love with you or anything.”

“A little hopeless romantic.”

“You’re the one trying to shag everyone here!”

“That’s not really romance, that’s just some fun before the world ends.”

Leliana quietly starts to question her life choices. Why was she still listening? No, why was she waiting, clearly they two of them were having a perfectly fine time sitting in the dark, in snow, and flirting. She should’ve gone to bed a while ago. Yes, a part of her finds them entertaining, but mostly she just wants to be alone.

“Yeah, well… I can be fun.” Sera says.

“Oh, yeah?”

There’s a fump, and Leliana pauses mid-running a hand down her face, listening. Both of them are laughing – the obvious guess is one threw themselves at the other – but there’s quiet, gentle murmurs that she can’t quite hear between giggles. Silence, small but enough for Leliana to suddenly wonder if there was a chance they might pass out in the snow and what would she do with them, until there’s more giggles; but they’re softer now, almost nervous.

Oh.

She knows that giggle. She’s done that giggle.

Part of her wants to stay in the back of her tent and hope they do pass out, or leave, perhaps go back to the tavern. Stumble their way to their rooms. The other part finds that unlikely and she doesn’t want to become an accidental voyeur; none of this is her business. (Well, yes, everything is her business, but neither of them know she’s listening, and she’s not comfortable with any sudden intimacy. She’s fine with being creepy, but she’s not a creep.)

So she leaves the tent. She finds the two a few feet away, the Herald on her back with Sera on top of her. They seem innocent enough, but she can’t quite tell from here what their intentions are. Perhaps nothing. She clears her throat anyway.

Renegade rockets upward, throwing Sera to the snow, and they both stare at her wide eyed. “Uh…” the Herald says, “how long have you been here?”

“Sundown.” Leliana says flatly.

Sera blinks, snorts loudly, then dissolves into loud laughter. “We should’ve known! She never sleeps!”

“What were we thinking?” Ren hisses to Sera, not as quietly as she probably thinks she’s being. “Why did we sit here?”

Sera just continues giggling. “She’s too good.”

Leliana eyes them both a beat longer than necessary. Something that should be unnerving, but Sera doesn’t seem to notice or care. And, even as flustered as she is right now, the Herald has yet to find the spymaster frightening.

“Wait, she must’ve heard me talking about her,” Ren says hurriedly. “I’m not that whiny, really, I’ve been drinking is all.”

Leliana can’t tell if they can make out her features in the darkness, even with the moonlight and candles lit nearby, but she still makes a show of looking to the side and thinking. “We can talk about it tomorrow, if you wish.”

“I… yeah, okay.”

Leliana nods once and turns to leave. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“Come play with us next time, you owl.” Sera says. “Bet you’re a funny drunk.”

It’s only because her back is to them that Leliana allows the little smile that creeps up on her. “I’m not sleeping with either of you.”

After a small pause she hears Sera muttering, “But that wasn’t a no to drinks, was it?”

Sera pops up by her tent a little more after that, when she’s not out in the field. Leliana wouldn’t call them… friends, really; Sera certainly doesn’t go to her as often as she does Renegade or Cassandra. But if she has information or requires assistance from an advisor, she comes to her much more than to Cullen or Josephine. “Ugh, they’re boring,” she says when Leliana asks why, as if it’s that simple.

It’s slowly, quietly, becoming common for Leliana to find a note on her desk signed “red jenny,” requests to be discussed at the war table.

(Leliana remembered a friend of red jenny. It was vague, something she hadn’t thought about in years, until Sera’s unexpected arrival had jogged her memory. She must’ve laughed or smiled or looked wistful in some way the first time she heard it, because the next time she did – at the war table where Sera had requested the retrieval of a very bizarre, bee related weapon – the Herald mysteriously grinned right at her and picked up her marker, asking her if she wanted this one.

Leliana thought about it for a moment, then said yes for no sentimental reason whatsoever.)

Sometimes she thinks Sera just wants to watch her, but she disappears as soon as they make eye contact. Leliana doesn’t mind. She’s no stranger to simply watching people and getting a feel for them. Whatever Sera’s reasons are, they’re no matter to her.

When Sera seeks her out with apparent purpose, it’s not long after Redcliffe and the supposed time magic debacle. They have the rebel mages, and with luck it won’t be long until the Breach is closed. For once, Leliana is not at her tent, but in the rarely used room she shares with Cassandra and Josephine. Sometimes she needs a break from the cold, a warmer place to think and pray in peace. She’s just about to leave and return to her duties when she hears footsteps.

“There you are. You weren’t in your spot.”

Leliana looks over her shoulder. Sera is standing in the doorway nervously shifting from foot to foot. Not surprising, she’s been on edge for days now. “You need me?”

“I…” Sera’s hands twitch as she sways a little. “I wanted to ask you... not to be mad at Lady Herald.”

Leliana huffs. Of course. That’s the second time Sera was mildly involved when she and Renegade were having a tiff. (…She shouldn’t say it like that, as if they were married.) Understandable given their friendship, but not needed this time. Yes, Leliana was very upset at Adaar’s harsh decision with the mages… but they were talking about it. They would be able to work something out.

“I’m not mad, Sera.”

“You just didn’t see her, is all,” Sera continues. “I don’t think… she wasn’t thinking, she was just… so mad.”

“Sera,” Leliana says firmly, and Sera flinches slightly. “You don’t have to worry about it. We’ll figure out what to do with the mages, she and I.”

“Don’t wanna talk about the mages,” Sera scoffs. “Done enough of that already.”

“Ah, yes. You don’t care much for mages, do you?”

“Maker, I always gotta explain this, don’t I?” Sera groans, a little louder than she may have meant to. She looks behind herself to the main hall of the Chantry, then steps into the room and closes the door, leaning against the wood.

“Careful, that’s how rumors begin.” Leliana says. She stands and walks to sit on the bed closest to the door instead of her own. Clearly Sera was looking for more than a simple favor for her friend. So, she’ll listen.

“Only when you’re the one starting them,” Sera says absently. Leliana doesn’t show it – she hopes – but she’s finding herself constantly surprised at how easily Sera trades wit with her. She’s not wrong; people are more likely to think Sera’s just rooting around to cause some mischief. Sera continues, “I don’t have a problem with mages, my problem is always magic. Why is that so hard to get? Magic is what’s caused all this! If it weren’t for magic, we –” She stops herself.

Leliana chooses not to press Sera on mages, as much as she’d like to; there were simply certain issues Sera utterly refused to talk about for more than a few seconds. Instead she asks, “Did you perhaps want to talk about something other than the Herald?”

Sera averts her eyes, her fingers tapping against the wood. “… Y’know, she doesn’t like it when we call her that… we should probably stop.”

“Sera.”

Sera presses her back further against the door and wrings her hands. “Do you think it was all real? All of… all of what they said?”

Leliana has been asking herself that since she had first gotten the reports about Redcliffe. It certainly seemed unlikely; time magic was simply not a thing. And yet Ren had no reason to lie about it, there was no gain. (Their newest mage companion, from Tevinter of all places, was another story… but he seemed trustworthy enough, for now.) The hug she’d given Leliana when she’d returned hadn’t been one of her usual bear hugs, it was pure and desperate relief. Clearly something had shaken the otherwise carefree Adaar to her core.

“I suppose it was,” Leliana answers.

That doesn’t seem to appease Sera. “So you think it could all be true?”

Leliana’s brow furrows. Did they not just establish that? “…Y-yes?”

“You died!” Sera’s voice cracks, and Leliana only gives away that she’s startled by a few blinks. “I… I died.”

“Oh! No, no,” Leliana says hurriedly, “I’m sorry, I misunderstood. I believe what happened to Adaar and Lord Pavus is true, but that doesn’t mean it will happen.”

“But… it did happen….”

“We can’t say if the future is set in stone, no?”

Sera swallows hard and doesn’t look convinced. Leliana sighs and gestures an offer for Sera to come sit beside her. Sera hesitates, but accepts. She sits stiffly, but her hands twist in her lap and one of her foot shakes. Neither of them look at each other. “Why come to me?” Leliana asks.

“Is ‘come sit’ knifey speak for ‘go away’ now?”

“I apologize. Humor me.”

Sera huffs hard through her nose. “Cassandra likes to pretend none of it matters, Vivvy and I don’t talk, and Ren just… doesn’t? You’ve seen her right? She just sits out in the cold and thinks about it all day. Don’t really know that Tevinter guy…. You’re the only other one who was there, really.”

Leliana can’t help but wonder who else had been captured but simply hadn’t been seen by Adaar or Pavus. She doesn’t want to think about that right now. “You know I wasn’t actually there, yes?”

“I know that,” Sera mumbles grumpily. “I wasn’t either.” She pauses and seems to think something over. “We’re the only ones Ren saw die before she came back…. Does that worry you?”

“We all die someday, Sera.” Sera winces. Alright, clearly realism was not what she was looking for here. You have to be tactful with this one. Leliana clears her throat. “As I said to Adaar, I’m not afraid to die for the sake of the world. I am but one life.”

Sera slumps forward and looks down at her hands in her lap. “I guess in the future, I’m not afraid either…”

Leliana inhales slowly. “You’re not going to die… and neither am I.”

“It happened once.”

“I don’t believe time works like that. Or are you afraid our destinies are now intertwined?”

Sera scoffs and glances at her. “Ugh, I hope not. No offense, you’re probably good, but creepy birds aren’t my type.”

Leave it to Sera to turn any situation into some kind of innuendo. She ignores it. “Do you think Adaar would ever let us die?” Sera shakes her head. “And look at it this way. That future only happened because she disappeared. But she’s here now. It’s already different.”

Sera mulls that over for a moment before her eyes widen. “But what if something happens to her now?”

Leliana smiles gently. “You’ll just have to have a little faith in her. You can do that, yes?”

Sera nods. “Yeah, I trust her.”

“Good. Hold on to that.”

“… I guess you’d know a lot about faith, yeah?”

Leliana tries to hide her cough and hopes it sounds like a noise of affirmation. If Sera notices, then she hides it well, as she simply sits there, hands tapping on her legs. Before Leliana has time to stew in her own thoughts, Sera stands with a small bounce. “Yeah, I’m gonna go sit with her. Maybe she won’t wanna talk, but it’s better than nothing, inn’it?”

“Yes…” Leliana says with a small sigh.

“Right, good, I’m gonna go. Thanks, blackbird.” And she goes to leave, as simple as that. A fascinating little character. Leliana can’t tell if she fixed Sera’s problems at all, but her mind seems more at ease, and that’s something…. It feels nice. As Sera opens the door, she bumps into a quite startled Josephine. “Bye, Lady Ruffles,” she says and she’s gone.

“Oh..?” Josephine blinks after her, then turns to Leliana. “I was wondering where you were. Have you made a new friend? How lovely.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Leliana waves dismissively. “She merely needed advice.”

“With what?”

“It seems she was afraid she and I were destined to die together in a year.”

Josephine tilts her head, looking absolutely confused. “As in.. i-in marriage?”

It’s only because this is her friend that Leliana finds herself doing some kind of double take. “What? No. Josie.”

Josephine holds up one hand and smiles apologetically, coming to sit beside her. “I’m sorry, I hear ‘together in death’ and I think ‘death do us part.’”

Leliana grunts a noise that sounds much too much like Cassandra for her liking. “Still ever the romantic, I see.”

“You two would make an interesting pair,” Josie says. Leliana makes the noise again, longer and deeper in her throat. Josephine laughs and places a hand on Leliana’s knee. And even though it’s covered by armor, she gives it a squeeze. “You won’t die next year, will you?”

Josie says it almost more like a statement than a question. “Of course not.”

#dragon age inquisition #dragon age #dragon age femslash #leliana #sera #purple spy wife #loud elf wife #renegade adaar #my fics #nightingbee: incorrigible pranksters

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emo-does-things · 5 years

Text

To Reach A Journey’s End- 3

Authors’ note: Hello again!! This chapter has taken a while as I have been traveling the last few weeks, and its hard to collaborate when one of you is out of commission lol, so I've been making life difficult for my wonderful coauthor @ace--writes. But regardless, here is chapter three, and it’s!! a big one folks!! there’s a lot going on here

as always we’re not Americans, or a range of other things really, so if we mess up please let us know so we can get on fixing that! Anygay, hope you enjoy

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: eventual LAMP, background Remy/Emile

Warnings: Anxious thoughts, low key anxiety attack, food mention, please let us know if we missed any!

Words: 5056

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1| Chapter 2| or read it on AO3 if that is more your style

~~~~~

The most positive thing that Virgil could say about the rest of his day was that it passed. It didn’t pass quickly, or easily, but it did at least pass.

Logan’s company, as he was now one of the few people Virgil could say that he liked, meant that Science wasn’t the worst thing in the world. The teacher, however, certainly seemed to be trying to make it that way. Virgil could firmly say that he did not like her. How could he, when she had assigned seats. It didn’t matter how well he got along with Logan- He could turn out to be his closest friend for the rest of his life, AND the best man at his wedding- he would still hold a grudge against her.

It didn’t seem like he was alone in this opinion either if the scowls from the other students through the lesson were anything to go by. Not that he saw many of these, seated so much closer to the front than he usually was. But when he twisted in his seat to see what Patton was doing, which was more often than he’d like to admit if Logan’s curious gaze was anything to go by, he could spot more than a few.

The things they were learning weren’t actually that bad, in fact, had anyone else been teaching he might have actually enjoyed the topic, but he couldn’t find it in himself interested at all based partly on his grudge and partly on the separation anxiety he wouldn’t admit he had.

He was incredibly grateful, to leave science in favour of Maths, another class that he still wasn’t particularly fond of, but one where seats were not assigned and where it wouldn't have mattered if they were anyway, considering he didn’t actually have any friends there.

So Virgil sat alone, writing notes, and paying more attention to the scribbles he drew inside the margins of his book than the actual content. That was until halfway through when he remembered this was his last year and exams were a thing he had to worry about. After that, he tuned in for approximately half the lesson and still didn’t learn much.

Soon after the mild disaster that was his attempt at being studious he was finally free and on his way home. He said his goodbyes to Patton, where they parted ways at the front entrance, as Patton rushed off to do whatever he needed to, to look after his siblings, and Virgil started the walk home.

As always, he was home alone for about an hour after school before Emile came rushing in with equally rapid apologies and about four different shows and movies on his mind from work that day.

Luckily, today one of those shows was one that Virgil had already seen. Stranger Things if you must know- so he could put it on and only give it half his attention as he didn’t do the things he was supposed to, like homework, in favour of things he shouldn’t be doing, like Tumblr. It was a pretty good system for them, which they often fell into during the school term. It meant Virgil didn’t have to spend all the time talking and had an opportunity to recharge, and also that Emile got to spend time with him while also doing something ‘productive’. (Emile’s standards for productivity, in Virgil’s opinion, were at least a little skewed. Although his weren’t exactly better.)

They had made it through two episodes, including pauses for theories and reactions from Emile, and barely contained amusement from Virgil, as he had already seen the whole thing, before Remy returned.

“Hey babes!” Remy called along with the slamming of a door, as dramatic as ever, “I’m home!”

“We’re in the living room, sweetheart!” Emile called back.

He turned down the TV, but didn’t pause it, knowing that Remy would be in shortly to join them anyway.

They could hear him dumping groceries with just a bit more fuss than necessary, before he walked into the room and plopped straight into Emile’s lap. Emile smiled brightly, wrapping his arms around Remy and kissing his cheek.

Virgil looked at them out of the corner of his eye and faked a gag. Though the mushiness of their relationship could be embarrassing at times (especially with Patton over), Virgil always liked seeing his parents in love, he just wouldn't let them know that. Well, he would, just not on a day to day basis. Sappy was not his default setting, and never would be. There were at least three stages of ‘emotional unpacking’ before he’d come anywhere close to that. And yes, before you ask, Emile and Patton are in fact the only people that have ever managed this.

“Alright,” He said after their cutesy affection and whispered whatever's got too much for him to stand with only an eye role to defend himself, “Are we having dinner or what?”

“Well Virgil,” Remy said, with a signature smirk, “Your father happens to be a snack, so I think I’m set.”

“Oh god, I did NOT need to hear that, thanks dad. Time for me to go wash my ears out I guess,” Virgil said, almost choking on the words

Emile had the decency to be embarrassed, which only landed his face in the crook of Remy’s shoulder. Remy, on the other hand, just continued to sit there and grin.

Virgil rolled his eyes at them yet again, but the smile crept onto his face anyway.

It’s a candid moment, like one you would see on TV or someones Instagram. It’s a pity it doesn't last, as a very familiar voice creeps into Virgil’s head.

What the hell would you do without them?

Virgil’s breath caught, and his smile faltered. What would he do without them? After all, he would be without them… eventually. He’d be moving out soon enough if he went away for college, and the risk of either of them being hit by a car as they came home from work was astronomical. And regardless of right now, one day they would get older...

“Virgil,” Remy said firmly, suddenly he was in front of Virgil. When did he get there? “Virgil, babe, listen to me.”

“Virgil,” Emile was there too, When did they get up? “Virgil, honey, what colour are my eyes?”

Virgil looked up properly, though his vision was blurry. When did that happen? “Uh,” He paused, “Green.”

“Good,” Remy said, pushing his sunglasses on top of his head, “And mine?”

Virgil blinked and frowned in concentration. What colour were Remy’s eyes? Were they brown or amber? Virgil squinted, and his vision cleared, “Amber,” He decided.

“You’re sure?”

He was quiet for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, definitely.”

Remy nodded, leaning back on the coffee table. Emile was kneeling next to Virgil’s armchair.

“You wanna tell us what got you going in there?” Emile asked softly, a slight frown pulling on his mouth.

“Just, uh… just questions and, kinda... Inevitabilities. No big… it’s not really a problem.”

Emile gave a small, proud grin at Virgil’s catch, before it settled back into concern, “Can you tell me about it anyway?”

Virgil paused, before throwing his head back with a groan, “Fine, whatever. I was just… I was thinking about what was going to happen when I… When I move out.”

“Oh, you’ll have a grand time!” Emile assured with a bright smile.

Remy nodded in agreement, “You’ll have too much fun to remember your poor old dads.”

Virgil knew they were trying to lighten the mood, but he wasn’t as amused. He didn’t like the idea of not remembering them, or even not being here. It felt like the worst nightmare he could ever envision. Even if that wasn’t what they meant at all.

Emile caught on to that, “Sweetie, it’ll be good for you. I promise. It’ll be like spreading your wings. And if you’re ever overwhelmed, we’re only a phone call away. And like we said before, if you really don’t think you’re ready to go away, the local college is still an option.”

“You don’t have to worry about that yet though,” Remy assured, “You have Senior Year still cushioning you from the big scary world.”

“And us,” Emile added quickly, “You’ll always have us.”

“But what if I don’t!” Virgil exclaimed, standing up, which was slightly difficult considering their position, and beginning to pace, which immediately set a spike of worry through his dads.

“What if your room gets hit by a car tonight?”

“Virgil, babe,” Remy said firmly, “We sleep on the second floor-”

“A plane then! What if some madman comes after you? What if I fuck something up so bad you realise that you never wanted me anyway? What if some bastard puts a curse on you both to forget all about me, and I’ll be stuck on the streets!”

Emile stood up and quickly gathered Virgil in a soft hug. If he wanted to, he could get out easily, but he could just as easily sink into the hug… it was so easy, that he didn’t even realise he’d done it.

“We aren’t going to leave you, Virgil,” Emile assured, the ‘not like that, not like they did,’ wasn’t said verbatim, but what he said instead meant the same, “We would never leave you, no matter how badly you messed up, no matter where you go, no matter what happens. We’re here for you, ok?”

“Ok.”

Emile hugged Virgil until he was ready to back away, and Remy ruffled his hair, a fond grin decorating his face.

They knew how best to deal with the aftermath of these kinds of attacks, for Virgil specifically, at this point, so after a few more minutes of overly affectionate coddling, they left him in his chair to start on dinner.

After that, there was quiet in the living room. He could hear the sounds of them in the other room, and Emile would step back in to check on him every so often, but he was allowed to recover without being blocked in, the way he preferred. And the soft sounds of banter and cooking and the smell from the other room was enough to keep the quiet comforting instead of oppressive.

Dinner was a quieter affair than normal, or rather, softer. It was like Virgil was now labelled “fragile, handle with care” and their conversation was wrapped in bubble wrap. He couldn’t decide whether he liked it. Some days he wished that they’d just pretend nothing had happened, and some days he was very grateful for their concern. He couldn’t figure out what day today was.

All he really felt was tense, and tired. But that was how he usually felt, so why complain now?

“So,” Emile said eventually, “How was your first day back at school?”

Virgil almost groaned, but answered anyway “Fine.”

“Meet any cuties?” Remy asked, lounging back in his chair with a smirk.

“It’s his last year, Rem, the chance of him not knowing people in his year, or new people joining isn’t exactly high,” Emile said, giving Virgil a fantastic out.

“Yeah, babe, that might be true of most kids, but this is Virgil, the chances he hasn’t talked to someone is like, significantly larger,” Remy said, his tone lightly teasing.

“Well, you might have a point with that one…”

“So, Virgil, darling, repeat question- Meet anyone cute?”

“Let me think,” He said sarcastically while he kept eating.

Remy groaned, “Come on! Work with me here babe!”

“Remy,” Emile scolded good-naturedly, a fond smile betraying the only half stern tone.

Virgil smiled cockily, sticking his tongue out at his father. Remy leaned further back, mock offence written across his features. Emile chuckled fondly, shaking his head at their antics.

He took a moment, so that Remy was distracted with dinner again before he gave an actual answer.

“I… well, met isn’t exactly the right word, for either of them. That kind of implies an interaction that goes ‘hi my name is Virgil nice to meet you’ and ‘hi Virgil I’m x’ and then you like, talk. Which happened with neither of them.”

“Neither? That implies that there was more than one!” Emile turned to Remy suddenly, a far too excited smile on his face, “Honey, did you hear? A miracle occurred today!”

Virgil glared, “Do you want me to tell you or not?”

Emile leaned forward, grinning “Please, go on.”

Virgil sighed, “I had a debate with a guy today, in English. It got… heated. He was an absolute idiot.”

“What was it about?” Emile asked curiously.

“Macbeth.”

Remy looked over at Emile, “What did you expect? We raised a nerd.”

Virgil sat back all feigned outrage, “Excuse you! I am not a nerd! I have a very specific aesthetic that I’m going for here, and nerd is not it! I have not invested in this many black outfits to be called a nerd. Besides, if you were to compare me to an actual nerd, I just don’t hold up. Actually, the other guy I talked to today is a better example. If you looked up nerd in the dictionary it’d be a picture of this guy.”

“How did you meet him?”

“Well, I’ve seen him around before,” Virgil said quickly, “Worked on a few projects. He’s a fairly decent partner, I guess. We were assigned seats in Science.” Remy gagged, and Virgil nodded in agreement, “And I was sat next to Logan- that’s his name. He’s nice enough, but I wish I was sitting next to Patton. He got stuck next to the first guy.”

“The boy you debated?” Emile asked.

“Yeah, Roman,” He practically glowered, which Remy picked up on, “Honestly, who really thinks there’s fate happening in Macbeth? Doesn’t that just take away from Macbeth’s actions? ‘Oh, yes, I murdered the king for power and money, but you see, it was fate. Old ladies in the woods told me to do it!’”

Emile nodded, “That is true, but a lot of people like to draw from the obviously mysterious nature and place the blame there instead. It’s like any piece of media with implied magic-realism.”

“From its curse to its content, people like to explain the vibes with fancy words instead of just appreciating them,” Remy added. He was surprisingly well versed in Shakespeare for someone who hated reading.

Emile nodded, “We tend to try and justify acts as horrible as Macbeth’s, and a lot of people don’t want to believe that we’re capable of such atrocities, in media or history. And so magic and fantasy end up being the scapegoats used to try and soften blows in text. If Macbeth is not accountable for his actions, he can become a more likeable character.”

Virgil sighed, and nodded, going back to his meal. Sure, he could understand Roman’s point when put like that, but that doesn't mean he agrees with it.

Not much is said for the rest of dinner, but Remy and Emile did turn to one another, having various silent conversations, some Virgil was sure would be about him.

Eventually they returned to the living room, Remy and Emile laying on the couch as an entanglement of limbs, being disgustingly domestic and mushy. Virgil would look up from Tumblr every now and again, when Emile made some comment about the plot of the show and how he could use it at work, or when Remy said something particularly biting and sarcastic. He chimed in occasionally, but he kept mostly silent.

He was happy watching- both them and the show. At some point during the night they shifted, and laced their fingers together, which yes, Virgil did fake gag at.

Mostly because they were being sappy, but also because sometimes, it was a little strange when he could see both their matching soul bands on their wrists. The pale pink and coffee brown strands that looped around each other on their wrists usually filled him with warmth at their relationship and the future he might have with his own soulmate one day, but sometimes… Well, sometimes he couldn’t help but fall into old habits.

It was one of those bits of conditioned thinking that still crept up on him from time to time He’d spent a lot of time working through the effects the foster system had had on him, and his birth parents before that, but even now, sometimes little bits slipped through.

He remembered his birth mother’s blind hatred of soulmates, and yet how she still seemed upset she didn’t have one. She’d often told him that he would probably end up broken, just like her, his band would never come in, just like hers. What a lovely thing to tell a child. He knew that there was no way that she could know this- a person’s band didn’t show up until they were around eighteen, and plenty of studies have proved that having or not having a soulmate was not hereditary

And yet…

And yet that little voice in the back of his head always liked to perk up whenever he spent too much time watching his dads.

You’ll never have that, your mark still hasn’t come in. The voice growled. After a moment, Virgil smirked and went back to Tumblr. He’d followed it down that rabbit hole more than enough times and at this point, and this late in the day, he didn’t really care. So what? He thought back, a response he’d been practising, and was almost starting to believe. I have my dads, and Patton. Who says I need anyone else.

What if you do have a soulmate? It asked, changing tactic. And? He almost replied. And they’re not Patton.

That got his attention. That one was new.

I don’t want Patton to be my soulmate. He thought defensively.

Yes you do. You want it so badly. Because otherwise, he’s going to leave you for the person he’s destined for.

Shut up! Shut up, shut up! He thought viscously. He didn’t want to think about that. He was very happy with the bubble he lived in for now.

The little voice didn’t respond, but he could almost feel the smugness radiating from it, as it settled back to a simmer in the back of his mind.

It had done its job.

His mind raced wildly as the rest of the episode passed without him seeing or hearing any of it, his hand shaking the whole time. What if they’re not Patton? What if Patton stops being friends with me because his soulmate doesn't like me? What if the universe gives me someone who hates me as a soulmate? What if we don’t get along? What if I end up partnered with someone like, I dunno, Roman?

He knew he couldn’t leave until the credits of the episode were rolling without worrying his dads, but as it was over he excused himself quickly, barely stuttering out, “Shower,” before darting from the room.

Virgil sets the water to as close to scalding as he can handle, (a temperature that would probably have resembled something to warm to most people). The warm water was a fantastic remedy to tense muscles, and a perfect distraction from things like his spiralling thoughts.

He stayed there as long as he could justify being under the water, but eventually he had to pull himself out and grab pyjamas. His go-to set were still sitting on his half-made bed, and clean enough for another night, so he grabbed the soft pants and even softer knitted sweater that Emile’s mother had given him two Christmases before. The fact that he liked being very warm when he slept, and that he liked it significantly more than typical teenage-protagonists liked sweaters knitted by their grandmothers, made it a very good sleep shirt. The fact that it was the only place he would wear something lilac and white also came into consideration.

The additional fact that it was starting to get just a little too small was something he’d been ignoring up to now. However, the length of the sleeves was starting to bother him, just a bit.

“I might need to ask for a new-” He started to speak, thinking out loud, before he froze in a moment of absolute shock, as he noticed a dark-grey ring around his left wrist.

He tripped backwards landing on his bed, as if that would put distance between himself and his own body part. He sat there a moment eyes screwed shut, trying to avoid the whole thing.

With a few deep breaths, carefully following the 4-7-8 method he relied on, he found the courage to open his eyes and inspect his wrist adorned with a new soul band. Did the universe really think it was funny? It really did decide that after an internal breakdown about soulmates was the best time to have his band come in.

Maybe not the time, Virgil he scolded himself, and looked back down at the band itself.

There was a deep purple cord, it could’ve easily been mistaken for black, that was obviously him, which was… yeah that was in character. And then there was a light grey one, and two dark grey-

He stopped. Stopped looking, stopped moving, stopped breathing, almost stopped breathing.

That was four cords. There were supposed to be two. That was how it was. You either had two strands- one for you and one for your soulmate, like his dads’ and most other people- or you had none.

This was wrong. This was all wrong. How the fuck was he supposed to deal with this?

He’d prepared for everything else. He’d have been resigned if he never got one, and he’d have been prepared if he did, but what the fuck was he supposed to do with this.

He could barely manage to get air into his lungs, but he knew he needed… he needed something… he needed his fathers.

“Dad…” He sobbed, barely audible even to himself.

“Dad… Dad, Dad!” he repeated, louder and louder until he was screaming.

There was silence, for a moment, except for his ragged breathing. Then, he heard both of their footsteps hurrying up the stairs. It was only a moment later when Remy and Emile burst through the door.

Emile rushed to Virgil immediately, “Virgil, what happened? What’s wrong?”

Virgil didn’t cry often. He had his fair share of breakdowns, but he didn’t cry. So why were there tears already streaming down his face.

“Me!” He almost yelled, but his voice was shaky and wet, “I told you! It’s me, I’m broken! I can’t even fuck up like a normal person! I told you!”

Emile blinked in surprise, before gathering Virgil up in a firm but, importantly, escapeable hug. Virgil sunk into Emile, face pressed into his father’s chest as he sobbed.

Remy, now seeing there was no imminent threat to Virgil, sat down on the bed. He waited a moment, before gently stroking Virgil’s still damp hair.

Virgil couldn’t see this, but above his head, Remy and Emile continued their silent conversation, worry clear in their faces.

Eventually, he calmed enough to pull back from Emile’s chest, eye and nose red, and still a slight hiccup to his breathing. Emile let go of him, and started stroking his hands instead, keeping a gentle, soft touch available to him.

“Hey buddy,” said Emile softly, “Want to tell us what that was about?”

Virgil wanted to say no. He really did. He didn’t want to disappoint his dad. But the kind, gentle smile broke him, and he sighed.

“It’s here.”

“What is?”

He held out his wrist, refusing to look at it himself.

“It showed up, and it’s bad and wrong and broken. I couldn’t even be the normal kind of broken.”

Emile frowned, lifting Virgil’s hand to examine what he was claiming to be ‘broken’, and on his other side Remy leaned in to see as well. After a quick gasp of surprise his frown morphed suddenly into a bright smile that only grew as he turned Virgil’s arm softly to see his band all the way around.

“Sweetie, your band isn’t broken.”

“It is! You’re just saying that” Virgil insisted, glaring in anger at his wrist.

“Not at all,” Emile assured, patting his hand “It’s really quite beautiful, even in grey-scale.”

Virgil didn’t believe that.

“It’s not broken, or wrong, or anything of the sort. I promise you, Virgil.”

“How do you know?” Virgil snapped, pulling his hand away and crossing his arms so no one could see

“Because I’ve seen them before. Soulmate bands with more than two threads.”

Virgil blinked in surprise, his arms relaxed slightly, although not enough to see the band again.

Emile grinned brightly, “You know I do a lot of relationship therapy, and I’ve seen a lot of different types of relationships- and soul bands, or ‘Braids’ are the more accurate term in this case. They’re perfectly normal, Virgil. And yours looks particularly interesting. The pattern is beautiful, there even looks like there are some complicated celtic knots in the layout, from what I saw.”

Virgil’s arms uncrossed, and his hands fell into his lap, he looked down at it wonder and confusion, “You’ve seen it before?” He repeated lamely.

“I have,” Emile replied, “With some polyamorous couples that come in.”

Virgil’s gaze snapped up, “Polyamorous?” the words seemed almost familiar

“Polyamourous…” Remy repeated, grinning slightly, “That’s like, the poisonous blobs under the ocean, right? Oh, the ones Nemo and his dad live in!”

Virgil looked over with a frown, almost certain that Remy was taking the piss, while Emile smiled in amusement and knitted his eyebrows together, “Uh, no dear. That’s anemones, though I do appreciate the reference to Finding Nemo, that’s not even close to the same word.”

Remy only smiled and leaned back, staring at the ceiling, before clicking his fingers, “It’s that fabric that t-shirts are made of!”

“That’s… that’s Polyester, dad” Virgil said, frowning.

“Oh, Shit… then its… ah, fuck… its the one where you’re attracted to more than one person or gender?”

“Close, but no dice, Remy. That would be Bi, Pan, or Polysexual.” Emile shook his head, half laughing

“Fuck!” Remy exclaimed, “Dating more than one person! That’s the Bitch”

“Bingo!” Emile grinned proudly, about to explain further for Virgil but Remy interrupted.

“My sister-in-law has a relationship like that.”

Virgil and Emile both turned to him slowly, eyebrows drawn in an identical, amused but confused frown.

“What?” Remy asked, raising his hands in defence “She is.”

“Your sister-in-law,” Virgil repeated.

“Yeah, I said what I said.”

“Your sister-in-law,” Virgil said again, “The one that’s married to your sister?”

“And their non-binary partner- they’re an absolute babe by the way, nowhere near as cute as Emile but- anyway, yeah that sister-in-law, what about it? “ Remy said, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Remy- Remy, darling, why did you skip your sister in favour of your inlaws?” Emile asked, laughing.

“Because she’s my favourite sibling,” Remy replied frowning as though this was the obvious solution.

Virgil snorted and burst into a fit of laughter, hiding his face in his hands.

“Dad, you’re an idiot, I love you,” He said between his fingers.

Above his head, Remy grinned, while Emile shook his head, a fond smile on his face. The ‘thank you’ on Emile’s face would have been clear, even to Virgil, had he looked up.

It took Virgil a moment to come down from his hysterical laughter, which was almost to be expected with an emotional rollercoaster like that night had been, but when he did, he leaned into Emile’s side, and sat comfortably with Remy’s arm around his shoulder.

“So, Virgil, can you see that your soul-band isn’t broken after all,” Emile smiled gently, “It just means you have more than one soulmate.”

Virgil bit his lip, his eyebrows furrowing, “What am I supposed to do with more than one soulmate? How does that even work?”

“Well, I’m sure it will take a lot of communication, but you’ll get there. I know you will.”

Virgil looked at his wrist, running his fingers over the cords braided together, “And you don’t hate me for it?” He didn’t mean to say that aloud.

“Of course not,” Emile assured.

“Babe, like, of course not. I just said I got my favourite sibling through my sister’s soul braid. And now I’ll get to meet my second to fourth favourite children through yours,” Remy said, pulling back to look at Virgil from arm’s length, and grinning.

“Remy,” Emile admonished him gently.

“Ok, fine, fine, I won’t play favourites with Virgil’s future partners, are you happy, babe?”

Emile shook his head, laughing again, and Virgil couldn't help but smile along.

Remy wrapped his arm around Virgil’s shoulders again, “We love you, Virgil, no matter what. We love you, and our potential in-laws, no matter how many of them.”

Virgil smiled, leaning into Remy’s embrace.

“What if I like one or two of them more than the others,” He said after a moment, voice very small and smile falling, “What if none of them like me? What if they like each other better? Oh, this is just a whole new set of problems…”

“They’ll adore you,” Emile assured, “Whoever they are, wherever they are. They will, because you are their match, as they are yours.”

“I can’t wait to tease them all,” Remy grinned mischievously “About the fact they fell for the ‘Emo bad boy with a heart of gold’ trope”

Virgil snorted, and slowly the worries floated away. They’d be back, as they always were, but for now, there was respite.

“What colours do you think they’ll be?” Emile asked excitedly, “I think that light-grey one has to be a yellow.”

“Nah, babe, I bet it’s green.”

“Blue,” Virgil smiled softly, “I think one of them will be blue.”

Emile began to gush about how pretty that would be, Remy agreeing that it would compliment Virgil’s deep purple, and continuing to speculate over the various ways he could embarrass both Virgil and his soulmates.

Yes, the worries would return as they always did, but for now, Virgil was content to sit with his fathers and talk about what possible colours would streak through his braid of possibility.

and now! the tags:

@deathshadowrules

@i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing

@haggendazs-dispersion

@jellopuffs

#emo writes things #sanders sides #tssides #fanfic #writing #sander sides virgil #sleep/remy #dr emile picani #background remile #LAMP #polyamsanders #soulmate au #highschool au #human au #long post #an emo original

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