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arcanadreams · 3 years

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Water Fights with the OM Bros

it’s 90 degrees outside at my place and you know what that means!!! water fight headcanons because I refuse to go outside in the heat in real life asdhgskjdgks

once again i’m only doing the brothers bc i do not trust myself with the dateables just yet lmao

Lucifer:

Literally only agrees to join because you’re so excited about it.

“...If it makes you happy, MC,” are his exact words. Simp.

You did agree to make the game have no points though, to keep things from getting competitive. Both at the advice of Lucifer and because you knew he would not join if there was any chance he could lose. (Also because Satan is a menace but we’ll get to that later.)

When all the brothers are gathered he suggests everyone pairs up into teams.

“You’re only saying that so you can cozy with M-” Asmo tries to say before being sprayed in the face with water.

“My hair!” “Oh, look at that. I suppose the game has started,” Lucifer hides his water gun behind his legs, but he can’t hide the shit eating grin on his face.

He takes your hand with a “Come along, MC,” and leads you away as everyone splits up.

You two make a surprisingly good team for this sort of thing! He knows the gardens well and also knows where each of his brothers is likely to go. You are quite skilled water water guns and balloons. He’s basically the brains and you’re the brawn.

He snatches a few kisses now and then when you look back at him excitedly after smacking one of his brothers with a balloon. You’re just so cute!

When everyone is all tuckered out and goes off to shower and whatever, Lucifer hangs back with you to thank you for organizing everything. With a kiss to the back of your hand, he says, “I’ll admit, I was...skeptical, at first. But, as usual, you brought my brothers together in a way I haven’t seen in a long while. Thank you, MC.”

Mammon:

“I’m MC’s first man, so I get to team with them!” “You’re also literally my boyfriend, but okay hun.” Cue Mammon blushing beet red at the nickname and muttering at you not to call him that in front of his brothers. (He doesn’t mean it; he loves that they know you’re his and vice versa.)

Strategically, the two of you are the absolute worst. But that’s because you’re both just there to have fun!

And have fun you do! You actually get in quite a few fun chases with Levi! He’s probably the most into the water fight out of everyone, the three of you are just running around the gardens pelting each other with balloons. It’s super cute.

Mammon is absolutely the type to yell “I’ll avenge you, MC!” every single time you get sprayed.

Eventually, you and Mammon follow Levi’s advice and start hiding in places to catch some of the other brothers by surprise. Which would be fine if Mammon didn’t blush super hard and start grumbling because of how close together you were when kneeling behind the garden wall.

You roll your eyes and surge forward to kiss him. He’s so shocked he has no idea what to do with his hands at first. But, after a second of pause, his water gun falls to the ground with a clatter and he wraps his arms around you.

“Get a room,” Is all the two of you hear before Belphie dumps a whole ass bucket of water on your heads. Mammon growls and jumps up to get the youngest before Beel can scoop him up, but you grab his hand and stop him.

You’re laughing super hard, and the sun is shining on your hair. You almost look like you have a halo...Mammon gives up the chase before it even starts because his MC is simply ethereal.

“Mammon!” You smile brilliantly at him when you finally stop laughing. “I kissed you to keep you quiet! And then you managed to make even more noise!”

He just hugs you then so you can’t see his blushing face. Stupid lovely human making fun of him. (He likes it, though.)

Leviathan:

This boy is literally the MOST excited when you tell him your idea. He was in on it from the very start.

He actually helped you get all the supplies! He opens his Akuzon account right away and starts showing you what water guns would be best and picking out huge packs of balloons made specifically for being water grenades. (Definitely had looked all this stuff up before in case he found a LARPing buddy.)

You ask him how much Grimm all this stuff will cost and he tells you not to worry. “I’ll cover it!” “But, Levi-” He interrupts you with big blush on his face.

“L-Listen MC. You’re m-my Henry! And I know this will be fun, s-so...I’ll cover it.” You leap forward and give him a hug, triggering a surprised but equally happy screech.

Honestly he is so excited you proposed an idea like that of your own volition. Like...it just makes him feel like all the games and stuff he finds fun truly don’t bother you. You haven’t been lying; you genuinely are interested in the same things as him. It makes him feel so warm.

When everyone is still arriving, you grab one of your water guns and do that cool spinny thing. You know the thing. The cowboy gun spin. You’re like, “Hey Levi! Check this out!”

BAM. Boy is OUT. So red his face is steaming. That’s the hottest thing he has ever seen in his entire damn life. What the fuck, MC. He is basically frozen on the spot out of sheer overwhelmed-ness as how hot that was. You have to drag him away when the water fight starts. Totally worth staying up all night figuring out how to do the spin trick with a water gun.

Once the action gets going, you two are unstoppable. No one escapes the fight unscathed thanks to y’all. All those late night Call of Duty sessions trained you for this!!

Your favorite tactic is definitely camping, though. You and Levi would pick a spot and hide there, waiting for one of his brothers to come by, and then...ATTACK!

If it actually were a competition, you two would’ve won by a landslide. But honestly, Levi didn’t really keep track. He was having too much fun watching you. You were so mesmerizing when you were in the zone and so gorgeous when laughing as you gave him victory high fives after a successful ambush.

You let him take a picture of you posing all tough with your water gun and he makes it his DDD background immediately. And his lockscreen so you can protect his DDD from intruders.

Satan:

THIS ASSHOLE. THIS MAN IS THE REASON YOU MADE SURE THERE WAS NO COMPETITION.

If there was any sense of competition, Satan would’ve gone absolutely out of his mind to beat Lucifer. He would make sure to destroy that man’s dignity as thoroughly as possible.

So, for the sake of both him and the eldest brother, no points. No contest. He grumbles about it, but, much like said eldest brother, he still joins because he sees how happy the idea of a family water fight makes you.

Satan treats is almost as seriously as Levi does. EVEN THOUGH YOU MADE SURE IT WASN’T A COMPETITION, HE DAMN SURE STILL ACTS LIKE IT IS. UGH.

Literally pulls a map of the House of Lamentation’s gardens out of his back pocket??? And puts it on the side of the fountain?? And starts planning maneuvers on it with you??? He pulls a pen out of his SWIM TRUNK POCKETS to use to point with and emphasize his points. You just blink at him. This is your mans. Good lord.

Considering his expert knowledge of the layout of the entire surrounding area of HoL from that map, he actually knows of some secret passages the other brothers don’t even consider. He takes you to them so you can use them to spy on what Lucifer’s the other brothers’ strategies are.

It’s only once you’re creeping around the tunnels that he realizes something: none of his brothers know where you are. They can’t bother you...time to make out.

Grabs your attention with a quiet, “MC” and gives you a smooch. Soon enough he is backing you up against the wall. A water balloon you have tied to your belt pops against the rough brick, interrupting the two of you.

Satan disregards it and move to kiss you again, but you let out a gasp. He’s worried for you for a moment: did you scrape yourself? But when you turn to look at him, there’s a mischievous glint in your eye that he loves to see.

“My water broke!” You whisper-exclaim dramatically, covering your mouth in fake shock. Satan has to nuzzle his face in your neck to avoid laughing and filling the tunnel with the echo that would alert his brothers. The two of you basically just canoodle in the passages until the water fight is over LMAO

Asmodeus:

Pretty much just to show off how good he looks in a bathing suit to you and anyone else who happens to be lucky enough to witness his glory.

He’s not the best at water fights and ends up using you as a human shield sometimes adjgfkjshf

“Asmo! Stop hiding behind me!” “I am not letting Lucifer mess up my hair twice in one day, darling!”

He comments quite often on how hot you look. Both in your bathing suit and also when in the zone looking for victims to douse in watery fury. You look like an action hero, MC! Have you ever thought about becoming the next Bond? Asmo could definitely pull some hypnotic strings.~

Every time you successfully pull him out of the way of an oncoming water balloon or block a blast of water from hitting, he totally melts. He presses his back to your chest, swooning against you and batting his eyelashes.

“Oh, MC, my hero! My dashing knight in shining armor!” You scoff, but think it’s super cute. You even play into it sometimes and pick him up bridal style.

“The king is looking for you, my prince,” you say once as you lift him, and he actually blushes. Asmodeus, avatar of lust, blushes at a silly pet name. He was not expecting you to get so into the role!!! He loves it, though.

For the rest of the water fight the two of you are basically roleplaying a royal and his knight bodyguard. It is stupidly fun and the both of you have an absolute blast.

“Oh, MC, my darling knight! I have amazing news!” Asmo says after the fight ends. You’re drying his hair off with a towel. “Yes, my liege?”

“In exchange for your wonderful and dutiful protection, you have been given permission by the crown to court me! Isn’t that wonderful?” He smiles and you throw your head back in a laugh. You lean down and give him a nice, long kiss on the lips before pulling away. “That is absolutely splendid, your highness.”

Beelzebub:

He loves the idea because it’ll get his whole family together and he knows it. He has to carry Belphie out there but that’s normal.

He helped you and Levi plan!! Excited boy. You filled him in when he joined you and Levi for a game night. He totally volunteered to go get some extra supplies from some nearby stores for y’all. So cute.

Once everyone is actually fighting, this boy WILL NOT STOP BEING A HUMAN (demon?) SHIELD FOR YOU. LIKE NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU TELL HIM IT’S FINE, YOU’RE FINE, HE WILL NOT STOP.

“Babycakes, it’s okay. It’s water. It can’t hurt me.” “But I love you. I want you safe.” O H. O K A Y.

Someone call a doctor Beel just shot MC through the heart!!! He’s so genuine you just bright red and kiss his cheek because he deserve it.

“Well, I guess that’s settled then, huh?” He gives you a big Beel smile and nods, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Y’all get sprayed with water A LOT because your hungry boy is very big and hard to hide. Er, I should say HE gets sprayed a lot because he is a fantastic meat shield and you’re practically dry by the time the fight is over. He, on the other hand, is soaked to the bone.

He still insists on drying you off with a towel, though. The two of you dry each other off back in the twins’ room while Belphie dozes nearby in his bed.

You’re in the middle of drying his shoulders when he just starts talking. “That was really fun, MC. I’m really grateful for you. Ever since you’ve been here, things are always more fun. And you bring all my brother together. Thank you.”

You damn near burst into tears!!! Ahhhh!!! You sniffle and jump into his nap, wrapping your arms around him. “But MC, I’m still wet.” “I don’t care!! I’m giving you snuggles!!”

Belphegor:

Literally does not give a single fuck about a water fight until he realizes it lets him throw shit at Lucifer with absolutely zero consequences. Then he is all in.

Beel doesn’t even have to carry him around during the fight! Once he is outside and realizes all the shenanigans he can pull, he is perfectly content to grab you by the hand and be the one dragging you around, for once!

You two will probably team up with Satan and Beel at various points. Beel because he’s Beel, and Satan because he and Belphie absolutely set water balloon filled booby traps for Lucifer.

That’s his preferred strategy: set up a trap and wait in the bushes, watching for the target to approach.

He’s definitely the type to yell “Every man for himself!” if someone catches you guys hiding. Unlike his twin, he lets you get totally soaked while he runs away laughing. Dickweed.

You guys have a lot of fun, though!! Seeing Belphie excited is always a treat for you. And, though he doesn’t say anything about it, Belphie also thinks it’s a treat whenever you scheme with him. You don’t join in on his mischief often, so he always cherishes the times you do.

Eventually, after soaking Lucifer thoroughly, Belphie eventually gets a bit tired. You, however, want to keep the fun going. So, just as he begins to dose off in your hiding spot...you spray him. Right in the face.

He opens his eyes and sees you raising an eyebrow at him challengingly, giggling to yourself. He growls playfully and grabs his own water gun, quickly giving chase as you bolt.

Being a demon, he’s much quicker than you. But he lets you think you can escape for a few minutes before catching up to you and wrapping his arms around you from behind.

As you squirm and laugh in his embrace, he feels thankful he joined in on the fight, even if he was hesitant at first. After all, it led to this moment, where he can turn you around in his arms and give you a nice kiss as you melt against his chest.

#ta da!! another idea i've had for the longest time #posts #my writing #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

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This Gravitational Pull

Summary: Penelope Garcia sets her two best friends Derek & Spencer up on a blind first date. Even with the best intentions and highest expectations, no-one could've predicted it would go quite this well.

Tags: fluff, first date, au: diff first meeting, shy spencer, insecurity, anxiety, flirting, cuddling, protective derek, silly amounts of affection

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.9k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

I started writing this and then realised that I'd set their date in a pub's beer garden? I googled it and apparently they are a thing in America so I kept it in. I don't know how common they are, but I hope it's all good and you can picture the setting just fine.

Spencer really wishes he hadn’t agreed to this blind date.

Not because he doesn’t trust Penelope — he does, he trusts her implicitly and entirely — but because it's a blisteringly hot day in late July and the heat compounded by his shaking nerves is making for a rather unpleasant sweating situation.

A bumblebee buzzes quietly around the table he’s sat at, briefly interested in the iced coffee he’s got his hands wrapped around, and Spencer watches it with a gentle sort of intrigue, able to briefly take his mind off the impending date. He knows that Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan is physically attractive, Penelope had made that more than clear with both her copious photos of him and the way she’s sung his praises since she started working at the FBI, but if anything, that just makes him more nervous. If Derek wasn’t his type, then he wouldn’t have as much to lose.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair as he heaves a small sigh. Worst case scenario, he can run home to his apartment, order Indian food, bury himself in the early edition of War and Peace he just won in an auction and forget that this date ever happened.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?”

A surprisingly deep and sexy voice has him looking up from the watch face he’s been staring at perhaps a little too intensely, and he’s instantly taken aback by the Greek God standing in front of him. He’d known Derek was attractive, he'd seen pictures of him, but no camera could ever hope to do someone so beautiful any semblance of justice.

“Uh, y-yes, um, yeah. That’s me.” He shakes his head to try and recover his awkward word stumbling before discreetly wiping his sweaty palm on his trousers and standing up to shake Derek’s hand. “You’re Derek?”

“The one and only,” Derek says cheekily, shooting Spencer a grin that already has his stomach churning with a mix of excitement and crippling nerves. “Penelope told me you were gorgeous, but let me tell you, she really undersold it, pretty boy.”

His cheeks instantly flush red as he fights to maintain eye contact, blinking owlishly at the other man. Did he really just say that?

“I was going to say the same thing.”

Derek’s grin only widens. “Well, it looks like Penelope matched us well, then.”

This time Spencer allows himself to briefly duck his head as a baffling mix of pleasure and mortification swim around his chest. He puts it down to inexperience. Any other explanation will only compound his embarrassment.

“She did,” he agrees, smiling over at Derek and hoping desperately that he’s managing to stay cooler on the outside than he is on the inside. “Do you want something to drink?”

Derek nods. “I’ll go and order a beer at the bar. Do you want anything or are you okay with that coffee?”

“Oh no, I’m fine, thank you,” Spencer says, and mentally he praises himself for finally getting out a coherent sentence that doesn’t sound hopelessly mangled and flustered.

He watches Derek as he strides into the pub, looking as cool and confident as his looks and personality allow, and he realises that he really does just have a way about him. The bar is relatively crowded due to the blinding heat on a Saturday afternoon, but the bartender serves him instantly, all the girls eyeing him interestedly and the guys knocking his shoulder and joking about with him as though they’re all easy, long-time friends.

It’s nice, Spencer thinks, to be the focus of someone like that’s attention. Derek could have his pick of most people drinking here, but he only has eyes for Spencer as he comes back out, holding a tall pint and wearing a happy, focused expression as he sits back down.

“Do you not drink?” Derek asks curiously and without judgement, gesturing to his coffee.

“I go out with my friends sometimes,” Spencer says, blushing again, “but I’m a bit of a lightweight, and that’s not the best state of mind to be in on any first date, let alone a blind one.”

Derek chuckles warmly at that, and the sound is a pleasant rumble reminiscent of a distant thunderstorm. Spencer wants to melt into it.

“I think I’d like to see you all messy on a night out, pretty boy,” Derek says wryly, still grinning shamelessly, and Spencer gets the distinct impression that this ‘pretty boy’ business is going to be a Thing between them.

Spencer cocks his head and takes a sip of his coffee through the long metal straw. “Maybe you’ll have to join us some time.”

“Does that mean we’re going on another date?” Derek asks, but before Spencer can panic that he’s said the wrong thing, he’s smoothly continuing. “Because I’m more than down for that.”

“You are?”

“Pretty boy, you ever looked in the mirror?” Derek demands playfully. “Add that to this cute little nerdy bashful doctor thing you got going on and you’re the whole package. Of course I want another date with you, and we’ve barely even started this one.”

Spencer flushes bright pink at that, and decides to move the conversation on before he melts into a literal puddle in the middle of this beer garden. “So you know Penelope through work?”

Derek gets the hint. “I was part of the group that arrested her, actually,” he chuckles, “and I thought she was gonna be a nightmare to work with when we gave her the option of working for the FBI instead of going to prison. But then she showed up on her first day decked out from head to toe in pink and yellow, her hair dyed back to her natural blonde, and the way she smiled when I called her baby girl… well, it was smooth sailing from then on. Did you know her back in her Black Queen days?”

“I was her one phone call,” Spencer answers, his face splitting into an easy grin as they discuss his favourite person on planet earth. “I was terrified she was going to jail and I’d lose her forever, so I was over the moon when you guys offered her that deal. We went to get our hair done together the very next day.”

“Oh yeah? And what did Pretty Boy have done to his hair, hm?”

Spencer blushes. “Let’s just say she wasn’t the only one who had a rebellious phase?”

“Now that I have got to know more about.”

“Save it for date number two, SSA Morgan,” Spencer shoots back, relaxing into the easy banter between them.

“Alright, alright, baby, I can do that,” he says, winking again. Thankfully, Spencer manages not to do an embarrassing impression of a traffic light this time. “How did you and Penelope meet?”

“Back in college actually,” Spencer nods. “She was sort of going off the rails after her parents’ death, but I think finding a scared 12 year old in her Geography elective helped her rein it in a bit. We’ve been glued at the hip pretty much since we met. Even when I went to MIT for a bit to complete my Engineering PhD, she came with me. Since her job back then was mostly hacking and some supplemental side jobs, it didn’t really matter where she was based, she was just hellbent on protecting me like she has ever since that first Geography class.”

“Wow,” Derek says, looking genuinely shocked as he leans back a little bit, eyeing Spencer with curious eyes. “You went to college when you were twelve? I’m glad you had Penelope because that could’ve been a disaster.”

“It kind of was,” Spencer nods, laughing a little. “But it meant that I had five degrees including three doctorates by the time I was twenty-one so I wasn’t too mad about it.”

Derek stares at him consideringly, the soft smile on his face making Spencer’s stomach fill with butterflies. “You’re quite the genius aren’t you?”

“Well, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

Derek just stares at him.

“So, yeah, I guess I’m a genius?” he says bashfully.

Derek laughs, shaking his head. “Definitely a genius. I mean, Penelope told me you were clever, but this is like… insane. Are you sure you’re okay to go out with a mere mortal like me or should I see myself out?”

“Yeah actually, Derek, sorry, it’s not going to work out,” Spencer says, feigning seriousness. “I can’t be with anybody who’s not within twenty IQ points of me or doesn’t have at least two PhDs.”

“A good actor, too? What don’t you have going for you, pretty boy?” He laughs in that wild and free kind of way Spencer always wishes he could, and he wonders whether Derek could teach him how.

Derek watches him like there’s something special about Spencer as the sound of their laughter mingles, looks at him like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be but right here, right now, and the warm intensity of it has a buzz going in Spencer’s chest, a pleasant feeling he can’t imagine anything dousing, and he never wants Derek to take his eyes off him again. Not if this is how it’s always going to make him feel.

The hours of the afternoon fly by and all of a sudden the sun is setting and they’re feeling distinctly hungry.

“How do you feel about getting some street food and taking a wander down to the beach?” Derek suggests hopefully, and Spencer can’t help the wide grin that splits his cheeks at the idea.

“Let’s do it.”

The beach is slightly cooler than the garden now the sun is setting and a soft, salty breeze is floating in from the ocean, so they sit close together in the sand, sharing their servings of nachos and fries between them.

“What’s your family like?” Spencer asks, a little daringly after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence.

Derek smiles. “They’re amazing. It’s been just me, my mom, and my two sisters since I was ten years old, but I think losing my dad only brought us closer together, y’know? We had to learn from a young age how to rely on each other, and we were also taught the very valuable lesson of just how important family is and how nothing in life is guaranteed, so we’ve made every effort to be as close to one another as possible.”

Spencer watches with quiet admiration as Derek gushes about his family, and takes another bite of their nachos. “Do they live locally?”

“No, they’re all still back in Chicago,” Derek says. “It’s sad sometimes, being so far away from them, but they would have killed me if I’d stuck around back home just for them and hadn’t chased my dream of climbing the ladder of the FBI.”

Spencer nods, chuckling along with Derek as they stare out at the quiet, tumbling waves of the ocean.

“What about you?” Derek asks. “Are you close with your family?”

Shit. He hadn’t exactly considered that asking Derek about his family would lead to reverse questioning about his own. I mean, call him a genius all you want, but social interaction is not his area of expertise.

“Uh, it’s just me and my mom. She lives back in Vegas,” he explains, clearing his throat awkwardly as he hopes that’s enough to appease his date.

Truthfully, it probably would have been, but Derek doesn’t say anything immediately, and the silence feels like it’s choking him into admitting the truth, however much it makes his chest tighten and his stomach flip with anxiety. What if this is it? What if Derek doesn’t want to start something with someone who has a family history as fucked up as his? What if he reads between the lines and sees that Spencer could be just like his mom in the future, and thinks that starting a relationship is just too risky?

“She has paranoid schizophrenia,” he blurts out, the words rolling off his tongue without his express permission, and instead of shutting up, they just keep coming. “When my dad left when I was ten, I had to be her sole carer until I left for college at twelve, but even then she refused professional help and medication, so I was taking the train from Pasadena to Las Vegas every weekend to try and help her out, and it got messy a lot of the time. It was only when I turned eighteen that things got a little bit easier, and that was only because I betrayed her trust and had her sectioned into a Sanitorium.

“They’re amazing, they take really good care of her and I did my research obviously, but I think a part of her still resents me for doing that.”

He stares out at the ocean for a couple of seconds before he suddenly realises where he is and what he’s just done.

“Oh my god,” he says as horror and dread fill him from the bottom up, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have just dumped all that on you, I’m sorry, just—”

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek says gently, placing a reassuring hand on his back to get his attention. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I’m just happy you felt comfortable enough to tell me all of that, and besides, I asked the question, and I meant it. I wanted to know the answer.”

Spencer feels some of the panic recede a little, and he looks up at Derek to try and gauge whether he’s telling the truth. “Really?”

Derek’s expression only softens further. “Really.”

He relaxes a little further and leans into Derek’s side, smiling to himself when Derek wraps his arm fully around his waist, resting his head on top of Spencer’s.

“I feel like I’ve known you way longer than just four hours and fifty six minutes,” Spencer says eventually.

Derek chuckles, and this time Spencer can feel the low rumble against his cheek as well as hear it. “It might be the biggest cliche in the book, but I feel exactly the same, baby.”

“I think sharing street food on the beach while staring out at a sunset as romantic and beautiful as that one has cemented the cliches in this date enough already,” Spencer points out, laughing a little.

“That is very true,” Derek agrees, squeezing his hand against Spencer’s waist. “We could round all the cliches off with a kiss, if you’d like.”

Spencer sits upright, blushing again as he eyes Derek’s flirtatious but serious expression. “I’d like that a lot.”

Derek wastes no time in taking Spencer’s jaw in his hand and leaning in slowly to place a long, sensuous kiss to his lips. Spencer kisses back with as much control as is possible when your experience is next to none and you have one of the most beautiful men in the world turning your stomach inside out with his attention, but it seems to be enough for Derek because as soon as they pull away, he’s grinning widely.

“You’re quite the kisser, pretty boy.”

Spencer fights the blush but it comes anyway. “I like that.”

Derek’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “The kiss?”

“No, the pet names.”

Derek’s expression smooths out and he smiles again, a little more tenderly than his usual cheeky grin. “Well, that’s good, because I have plenty more up my sleeve, sweetheart.”

Spencer flushes with pleasure this time and settles back against Derek’s side, observing the blue sea as they settle into silence once more.

“I’m not very used to all of this, by the way,” he says after a while, the sky slowly darkening.

“Used to what?”

“This. Kissing. Dating. Pet names.”

Derek looks down at Spencer to try and get a better look at his face. “Really? You could’ve fooled me.”

“I’ve only ever had one boyfriend before, and this is only the second date I’ve ever been on.”

“Any girlfriends?”

“Not really my area.”

“And this other date, was that with boyfriend number one?”

Spencer shakes his head against Derek’s shoulder. “No, I never went on a date with him. I met him in college and we were friends first, so we never really dated, just fell into a relationship.”

“Ah.” A brief silence settles over them again, but Derek doesn’t let it hang long. “You know I’m not bothered by any of that, right? You could have never dated anyone ever before or have screwed your way round half of California and DC and it wouldn’t matter a single bit. Not if you were here with me, right now.”

He laughs softly as Derek lightens the mood, and something in Spencer’s chest feels like it falls into place at that, like his last anxious reservation has been washed away and he can really move forward, forge onward with this scarily exciting endeavour.

“You’re a good man, Derek Morgan. You know that, right?”

Derek kisses the top of his head. “I do,” he says, “but I’m not sure it’s ever sounded quite as special falling from anyone else’s lips as it does falling from yours.”

Further down the beach, another wave crashes against the shore, and the colours of the sunset fade away slowly. People pack up their picnic baskets and head home, and seagulls attack their leftovers, but none of that matters, because right now, Spencer’s world is Derek Morgan.

Penelope Garcia deserves a medal.

(Yes, I've used that "yeah I guess I'm a genius" sequence in way too many fics, leave me ALONE. )

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#my writing #moreid #criminal minds #cm #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid x derek morgan #moreid fic #moreid fanfic #moreid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #moreid fluff #protective derek morgan #shy spencer reid

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multifandombookstore · 3 years

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Thinking of You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader Genre: angst, fluff Warnings: kidnapping, blood, torture, mentions of BDSM??, noncon kissing, degradation, shooting, death Summary: the reader is taken by the unsub and she starts to hallucinate a certain dork Word Count: 4.7k words

All you can see is red and, no, it’s not from anger. Well, maybe a little bit of that too.

Blood trickles down your forehead into your eyes, your vision blurring with every drop that drips from your wound. With your hands tied up like this, you can’t wipe the blood from your eyes. With your head pounding, you try to remember how you got here.

You playfully punch Spencer’s shoulder with a laugh, watching him rub his arm where you hit him. “There’s no way that actually happened!” you shout once you calm your laughter. You watch Spencer smile and nod his head, still rubbing his arm.

“It did! You can ask Hotch,” he replies. He was telling you a story that happened before you joined the team as you two drove to the jet for a case.

“There’s no way Garcia actually said that to Morgan on speaker! How was she not fired?” you ask incredulously, starting to cackle once more. He laughs along with you, remembering the shock on Morgan’s face when she said it to him.

“I wish you would’ve been there to see it. Everyone’s face was priceless,” he says, his voice softer than before. You calm yourself again and look over at him, your heart warming at the sight of him. It was still pretty early in the morning, so the sun was shining right in his eyes as you drove, the sun visor doing nothing to protect his beautiful eyes.

You’ve been on the team for about a year and a half now and it’s honestly been a wild adventure after the next. You were only supposed to stay on the team for a year but, of course, Spencer convinced you to stay and it honestly didn’t take that much convincing. You loved this team as your second family now and you couldn’t imagine working anywhere else or with anyone else.

You park the car and get out, heading towards the jet where everyone else is walking to. Seeing Morgan, you quickly drag your luggage over to him and start teasing him. You watch him sigh and move his head to glare back at Spencer. You and Spencer start laughing again as you climb the steps, leaving Morgan to stare after the two of you.

“Oh, you think that’s funny do you?” he asks you two, a playful lilt to his voice. You nod your head, trying to stop your laughter but Spencer kept cracking you up. “Reid, should I tell (Y/n) here about the peach incident?” Morgan asks him with a smirk. Instantly Spencer stops laughing and blushes a dark pink, shaking his head. “That’s what I thought,” he finishes as he sits across from the pair.

“What? Peach Incident? I wanna know!” you say with a new light to your eyes, looking between the two males. Blackmail on Spencer? Who would’ve thought that existed.

“No. Nothing happened. He’s bluffing,” Spencer stutters out, his face growing darker, causing Morgan to laugh. The others start to chuckle to themselves, finding the three of you amusing.

You all stop when Hotch comes to sit down with his fresh cup of coffee, his voice serious as he starts to discuss the case. You all go around tossing ideas out, trying to brainstorm different answers. The flight went by in a minute, it feels like. Then again, your attention was on Spencer for more than half of the ride. The others have never seen you two go more than fifteen minutes without talking to the other.

Once you touch down in a new state, you all pile out and into the cars waiting for you. You and Spencer take the back of one car while Rossi and Morgan take the front. “This unsub is kinda harsh,” you say softly, looking over the file again.

“What makes you say that?” Rossi asks curiously, wanting to hear more of your input.

“I mean, we’ve seen some things in our day but this? This just seems so...ruthless,” you say quietly, looking down at the pictures. Maybe you only thought it was worse than the others because all of these women kind of look like you.

“Yeah, the stabbing of the genitalia is an overkill. I thought maybe he knew these women but maybe he just hates women in general. Since they all look similar, my guess is that they’re a surrogate for someone,” Morgan replies. You nod your head, trying not to imagine what pain these three women felt before being killed.

Once you reach the station, you all walk in and set up in an extra room that they’ve allowed for you to use while here. From there, Hotch gives you all your orders. “JJ, Reid. I want you to go interview the two families that showed up today. Morgan, (Y/n). I want you two to go give the second family a visit. See why they haven’t been answering any of the police’s calls. Blake, we are going to go look at the kill sight where the last body was found.”

With everyone having their orders, you all disperse out of the station. You give Spencer a goodbye smile before following Morgan to one of the cars. “So, peach incident?” you ask as soon as you two are enclosed inside of the car. He laughs as he starts the black vehicle, looking around him as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“How did I know you were going to ask me again as soon as I heard we were paired up,” he teases with a smile. You grunt and look over at him, placing your cheek into your hand as you watch him drive.

“C’mon, just tell me! I won’t tell Spencer that I know!” you plead. He scoffs at that, trying to hold back his laugh.

“Yes, you will. I’m not dumb,” he replies as he checks his GPS to make sure he’s driving the right way. You let out a long groan and dramatically throw your head back against the headrest. Guess you’ll have to blackmail or guilt-trip him if you ever want to get that information.

He parks the car on the road and checks the GPS once more to make sure that you two have the right address. “Well, this house is...interesting,” you comment as you study the exterior. I mean, it wasn’t terrible but you can tell by the yard and the house’s structure that they don’t take care of it very well.

“Does anyone even live here?” Morgan asks half playfully as he steps out of the car, making you do the same. You two walk up the driveway and to the front door, both of you staying quiet for a moment to see if you can hear anyone inside.

Hearing nothing, Morgan knocks on the door. “Hello? Anyone home?” he calls loudly. You both wait for a long moment, hearing nothing once more.

“Despite their yard, I saw a shed and greenhouse in the back. Maybe they’re back there?” you guess, turning away from the door to look at Morgan. He silently nods his head before turning around and going back the way you two came. You two walk around the house and into the backyard, the dead grass crunching underneath your feet.

“I can check the greenhouse while you check the shed,” he offers, leaving you to agree and split away from him. You walk over to the shed, noticing the lock is missing from the door. You take one last glance at Morgan before slowly opening the shed door.

“Hello?” you call, looking into the poorly lit area. There were lots of boxes along with tools lining the wall. You look around the area, looking for clues as to if they’ve killed anyone here or with any of the equipment. You stop at a workbench, seeing tools and papers littering the desk. You pull a glove from your pocket, starting to move the papers around to read them.

All of a sudden, you hear wood bending and creaking underneath someone’s weight. You turn around to look at Morgan, only to find a tall man with a shovel. Then, you don’t see anything except for black.

You grunt at the memory, feeling your head throb as you recall the events. The edge of the shovel must’ve been what caused the injury on your head. You don’t doubt that you have a concussion. With blood still dripping into your eyes, you try to figure out where you are. From the looks of it, you’re in an abandoned factory of sorts.

You tug on your arms again and feel something wrapped around your wrists, holding your arms out behind you. This is also keeping you sat up, the strain of whatever is binding you too great for you to slouch forward. You tilt your head back, hoping to get the blood out of your eyes.

You don’t know how long you’ve been out for nor do you know how long it is until someone shows up. You bring your head back down and watch as the same man as before walks over to you with a handheld toolkit. He gets down on one knee and then opens up the kit.

“Are you Mr. Jenkins?” you ask softly, finding your throat a bit dry. He ignores you, pulling out a cloth and dousing it in saline solution. He then cleans your wound, not bothering to be gentle about it. You don’t make a peep though, remaining quiet as to not irritate or upset him and make him stop. Once done with that, he dries the area before wrapping gauze around your head. There’s still caked blood on your face and with your injury, you’re not sure cleaning it up and wrapping it was the best way to go but you suppose this is better than nothing. Besides, you can’t even see how bad your injury is. Maybe it feels worse than it actually is.

When he deems his job done, he packs everything back into his kit before standing up. “Wait!” you call weakly, watching him not even hesitate to leave you alone once more. You sigh and look around, finding it much easier to see now. After some time has passed, you feel a streak of blood start to trail down your face. You were right, the wound is bigger than he’s letting on.

You tilt your head back to keep the blood from getting in your eyes again, closing your eyes since all you’re looking at is a ceiling. You take a deep breath and slowly let it out, trying to think of a way out of this situation. Already knowing the answer, you bring your head up for a moment to check to see if you still have your gun. Confirming that you indeed don’t have it, you tilt your head back again. You then wondered if he knows you’re not just a random person that wandered into his shed. Your badge is in your coat though, so you can’t check to see if it’s gone or not. You’re guessing he checked all of your pockets before leaving you alone though.

Guess you just need to remain calm and wait to see what happens.

Morgan walks into the greenhouse, finding dead and withering plants scattered around. Despite no one being inside, he starts to look around for evidence or hints as to what these people really do.

He stops his snooping when he hears a truck on gravel, his boots stepping on dead plants and dried leaves as he walks towards the exit. What he finds though isn’t at all what he’s expecting.

There you are, limp in someone’s arms and being tossed into the bed of a truck. “Hey! Stop!” he shouts, pulling out his gun as he starts running. The guy, knowing he’s been caught, starts to run to the driver’s door. Morgan aims his gun at the driver and fires, the first shot just missing by a couple of inches. With the man in the truck and starting to drive off in his truck, Morgan shoots at the tires. He curses loudly when he misses or the bullets don’t do anything to stop the driver, simply slowing him down a little. Morgan memorizes as much of the plate as he can before the truck disappears around the corner.

Morgan curses loudly again and takes out his phone, calling Hotch. With everyone alerted, they all come to the Jenkin’s home. Caution tape is put up at the entrance of the property to keep nosy neighbors at bay, forensics showing up and starting to take pictures of the crime scene.

Everyone turns when JJ and Reid pull up in another car, knowing that this isn’t going to be good. Reid is in front of them in practically a second, his eyes wide and fearful. “What happened? Where is she?” he spits out faster than anyone can decipher. Morgan, already knowing what he was going to say, places his hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, calm down. Take a breath,” he says calmly, hoping Reid won’t lash out. Lash out is exactly what Reid did though.

“Calm down? How am I supposed to be calm when (Y/n) was taken by someone? Look at all the blood! She’s probably bleeding out! What were you doing? Why weren’t you here to protect her?” Why wasn’t I here to protect her?

“Reid,” Hotch warns, stepping up beside Morgan. Morgan sighs and looks over at the blood, a frown hanging heavy on his face. “Morgan, tell us what happened now that everyone is here,” Hotch commands.

Morgan sighs again, refusing to look at them. “(Y/n) and I knocked on the door and there was no answer. She then pointed out that there was a shed and greenhouse in the backyard, and that they might be in there. So, she took the shed while I took the greenhouse. I was looking around inside when I heard a truck. I come out of the greenhouse to see...to see our unsub carrying her to the back of the truck. I called out to him as I drew my gun, starting to fire as he escaped.”

Everyone stays quiet for a moment after he finishes, no one really knowing what to say. Reid, of course, is the first one to speak. “You should’ve been with her. You shouldn’t have separated. You—”

“Reid,” JJ interrupts, placing her hand onto his back. “You can’t blame him. All of us probably would’ve done the same to cover more ground quicker,” she says softly, trying to soothe him. His hands clench into fists, his eyes stinging with the want of tears. He can’t cry though, not here.

“I’m sorry. Let’s just work hard to bring her back,” he mumbles, staring at the red ground.

It’s been a couple of days, you know that much. Mr. Jenkins hasn’t given you any food and has only given you enough water to not die from dehydration. You’ve barely slept a wink, the position you’re in keeping you upright. Besides, you’re too worried and scared to actually close your eyes for long.

You’re assuming that Mr. Jenkins doesn’t own this property or else the gang would’ve found you by now. You wonder how Spencer is handling this.

“Well, I’m quite upset, I’ll tell you that much.”

You turn your head to the side, finding Spencer leaning against an old, rundown machine. A smile comes to your face just from the sight of him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you,” you reply hoarsely, your throat dry as a bone and begging for water. He smiles back and walks over to you, squatting down in front of your slouched figure.

“That’s quite the bump on your head,” he says as he runs his fingers over your wound. You can’t feel his touch though.

“How did you find me?” you ask, wondering why he isn’t freeing you.

“You know, I kind of like you tied up like this,” he teases, a smirk spreading across his face. You feel your face heat up at his words, your eyes now avoiding his face.

“Spencer, I don’t think now is the time for us to be talking about this,” you stutter out. He chuckles at your embarrassment, his hand moving to cup your cheek but you still can’t feel his touch.

“You’re so beautiful, you know? I never get tired of looking at you,” he whispers, leaning closer to your face. Your embarrassment only grows at his compliment, your head shaking.

“I don’t understand—”

“Do you remember that one time we played chess? The time before we worked that one stone case? You were right, I did let you win. I just wanted to see you smile when you realized you won,” he whispers. You let out a weak laugh, remembering the memory like it was yesterday.

“I knew it. I’m a profiler, after all. I can tell when you’re lying,” you respond softly, all this talking starting to drain your energy. He chuckles and leans forward, his breath fanning across your face. Just like you figured, it smells like coffee. He’s addicted to the stuff.

“No you can’t. You just think you can,” he replies playfully. He then starts to lean closer, his lips ghosting over yours. You close your eyes, waiting to feel his lips against yours. You’ve been wanting to kiss him for so long. You always imagined he would taste like coffee.

Well, you had your eyes closed until a creaking door is pulled open. You open your eyes to find Spencer gone and in his place is your captor. “What? Wanna kiss?” he snaps, squatting down in front of you. You look away from him, the smell of his breath making you want to puke. He reaches up and grabs the back of your head by your hair, forcing you to bring your head up to look at him. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he snaps.

He then smashes your lips together, his cracked and dry lips completely covering your own. You don’t return the kiss, simply sitting there as still as a statue. He doesn’t bother kissing you long, knowing you won’t return it. “Dumb whore,” he mumbles as he stands up again, reaching for a container that he had set down when he came in. He pulls out a half filled water bottle and a piece of moldy bread.

He sets the water bottle down without the cap before setting the bread down onto the dirty floor. “Bone apple teeth,” he jokes as he leaves. You feel your eyes sting but you force yourself not to cry. You bend over with your arms still behind your back and take the top of the water bottle in between your teeth. You then slowly sit up and tilt your head back, using your mouth alone to drink the water. You then look down at the bread once you finish the water, deciding that it’s not worth the trouble. You haven’t gone that long without food, after all.

After the first visit, Spencer always comes back to visit you more. He never gives you that kiss though. “I have to leave you wanting more or you’ll leave me,” he explains after you confront him one day. Your brows furrow in confusion, your eyes barely even open at this point.

“That’s not true. I would never leave you,” you reassure. He turns to look at you from his seat beside you, a sad smile coming to his face.

“Just trust me. If I do...something will happen to you,” he whispers, turning away to look around the dank factory. You let out a sigh and nod your head a bit, understanding what he’s saying.

“Okay. Just because I’m accepting that though doesn’t mean I like it,” you reply lightly. He hums and looks at you again, his face going from sad to heartbroken.

“I miss you, you know.” This makes you smile and your heart flutter in your chest.

“I miss you too. Why else do you think I’ve made you up?” you reply. It took a couple times of him showing up for you to realize that you’re hallucinating him. You didn’t really mind though. He helped you stay sane.

“Because you need someone handsome to look at?” he asks jokingly. You hum and nod your head, coughing weakly before you can reply to him.

“There’s that too,” you admit. He laughs and leans over to rest his head on top of yours. In return, you rest your head on his shoulder. Honestly, he’s probably the only reason that you haven’t gone insane yet.

“I’m getting close. I’ll find you soon,” he promises. You let out another hum, hoping he’s telling the truth and not lying to make you feel better.

He’s gone in a blink of an eye when the door opens and your captor walks in. “Alright, your time has come,” he says as he starts to undo your binds. Your shoulders and arms scream in pain but you keep your lips tightly sealed to keep you from actually screaming.

“Do you know who I am?” you croak out. You hear him scoff as he makes you stand up, your vision instantly swimming and causing you to get light headed. You lean against him to prevent yourself from falling down, fear starting to crawl it’s way through your mind.

“You’re in the FBI, right? I found your badge in your pocket. I took it upon myself to see this as a challenge,” he replies, shoving you forward and causing you to fall face first. You barely have the strength to push yourself up but it didn’t matter since he’s grabbing you by your hair and arm to drag you back up. “I think I’m doing a standup job too. They have no idea where we are,” he informs you proudly.

You can’t tell where he’s taking you, your vision swimming too much to tell, but the next thing you know, you’re being laid out on a hard, cold surface. “I figured that you’re special, so I’m going to give you some special treatment.” You grunt before letting out a dry cough.

“Yay me,” you reply sarcastically. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s cutting off your shirt and dress pants. It didn’t take him long to start cutting you. You bite your tongue to stop from screaming but the pain eventually gets to be too much. You try to fight him off but god, you can hardly keep your limbs up or moving. You wouldn’t be surprised if he also drugged the little water he gave you.

You’re not sure how long you’re there for. A couple minutes, an hour, a day, you don’t know. It doesn’t matter. You’re losing blood fast and you know what comes at the end right before he kills you. “Ready for the finale?” he asks darkly, trailing his knife from your foot up your leg towards your crotch.

You refuse to beg though. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Aww, you’re no fun. By this point, all the other girls were whimpering, snotty messes begging me to spare them. I even got offered for them to be my sex slave and what have you. I wish you’d offer me something like that,” he whines playfully, a dark smile on his face. With the tip of his knife a little above your pelvic bone, he connects his lips to yours again. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, starting to drag that knife down and lighting a fire in the blades place. You bite his tongue just as multiple doors bang open.

“FBI! Move away from the woman!” someone calls. He pulls his face away from yours, blood pouring from his mouth where you bit into his tongue.

“You little bitc—” he starts to yell as he pulls his arm back to stab your genitals, just like he did for his other victims. He doesn’t get the chance to stab you though, a gunshot ringing throughout the factory and piercing right through his brain. His blood sprays on you before he falls dead to the floor, relieved tears starting to leak from your eyes.

Spencer was by your side in a second, holstering his fired weapon. “You’re okay. God, we were almost too late,” he mumbles, tears coming from his own eyes. He helps you sit up before draping his coat around your shoulders and pulling you close. Paramedics are quick to come over to you two, trying to separate you two to put you onto a stretcher.

“No, stop! I’ll carry her,” he says quickly, keeping you wrapped up tight in his arms. He then turns you to pick you up bridal style, whispering calming words to you as he carries you out of that wretched place. He kisses you on your temple before handing you over to the ambulance, refusing to leave your side as he rides with you to the hospital. You smile lovingly at him as he squeezes your hand, your body not having the energy to return the act.

You don’t remember passing out but you did, apparently, since the next thing you know, you’re waking up in a hospital bed with a certain nerd asleep by your side. You let out a sigh as you shakily bring your hand up to run it through his messy hair. He wakes up right away and looks up at you like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh thank god,” he sputters as he stands up to wrap you in a hug. You grunt when you feel the pain flare up in your arms, this making him pull away instantly.

You find tears in his eyes, your own eyes starting to tear up as well. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he cries, his voice sounding crushed. You sniffle and gently grab his hand, being careful of your wounds.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” you reply shakily. He smiles at you and uses his free hand to wipe away your tears that started to fall.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly, almost too quiet for you to hear. You laugh weakly at this, remembering how you begged imaginary him to kiss you back in the factory.

“Please.” You barely get to finish before his lips are meeting yours. Not to your surprise, he tastes exactly like you thought he would. Coffee. He kisses you passionately, every single emotion you both feel being expressed through that kiss. Fear, guilt, desperation, love, admiration, and so much more.

You two pull away when someone clears their throat. “Well, at least I know that you’re okay now,” Rossi teases, the rest of the gang looking in from behind him. You and the others laugh as you wipe the tears from your eyes while they all come in.

“I’m more than okay. Thanks for saving me, guys.”

“Don’t thank us,” Hotch says.

“It’s all because of boy wonder here that we were able to find you,” JJ supplies. You look to Spencer to find him blushing.

“He went on an absolute rampage,” Blake starts, getting a ‘no, I didn’t’ in response from Spencer, “He refused to sleep until he found you. I don’t think anyone has ever been scared of Reid until that moment.” You’re starting to feel warm now. He did all that for you?

“Stop exaggerating,” Spencer snaps, giving your hand a squeeze. This makes everyone laugh. Well, except for a certain member of your crew.

Morgan walks over to your bed, his whole body tense and he almost seems ready to cry. “(Y/n), I’m sorry that I got yo—”

“Stop. Don’t blame yourself. There’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s just learn from it and move on, yeah?” you say kindly, a warm smile on your face. He lets out a hefty sigh and nods his head, a small smile coming to his face.

“Now, give me a hug. In fact, everyone give me a hug!” you command, making everyone chuckle as they follow your orders.

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MASTERLIST

More with Spencer Reid

Should I make a Tag List?

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480 notes · View notes

midnightswithdearkatytspb · 3 years

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VelvetCardiganBucky’s Recommendations 2021: Week 1 & 2 | January 1-9

Welcome to my first ever list of recommendations! In this week's list, you’ll find links to my favorite stories I've read in the past week. Eventually, I would like to also share some of my other favorite things on this site, but for now, it's just stories. If you would like your story featured in a future post just use #ktkvcbreadinglist

Be aware most of the stories and writers on this list are 18+ over writers and my blog is an 18+ blog.

Week 3 »

Chris Evans

Sealed with an Accident by @coolemmasulivan • Chris Evans x Reader — Fluffy and sweet, we need it after the week we just had.

Steve Rogers

Fill Me Up by @jtargaryen18 • Steve Rogers x Reader — Sweet, but hot.

Ransom Drysdale

The Highest Bidder by pagesoflauren • Ransom Drysdale x Reader – Graduate school is expensive, especially when you’ve moved out of state and going to school in Boston. Bills pile up, and soon your bank account is looking grim, with no choice left but to auction off what you deem your most valuable asset: your virginity. | Sequel: Money’s Worth

her cherry lips on his whiskey flavoured kiss by @cloudystevie • Love Drunk Ransom x Reader – Ransom was never a one for till he met you. (The smut in this is just beautiful.)

Andy Barber

Blackmail by @stargazingfangirl18 • Darkish!Andy Barber x Reader – Mob!Andy Barber? YES, please! I didn't know I was missing out till I was reading this. The writing is great and it leaves you wanting more. Kudos to the writer and thank you for the filthy smut.

Bucky Barnes

Golden by @rebeccccccaaa • King!Bucky x Knight!Reader – King Bucky loses his wife after she falls sick, his kingdom demands he remarries, preferably to a nearby kingdom to form an alliance. The problem is the isn't the one, but her knight, however, well she was a pleasant surprise for the King.

'Tis The Damn Season by @sweeterthanthis & @msmarvelwrites • Bucky Barnes x Reader – Angst/Smut/Man Whore Bucky and Taylor Swift what more could I ask for? There is now Taylor Swift in this, it’s just named after the song but it’s just as angsty as the song and perfect. *EDIT: Before I just had Lau as the writer, but Brontë was a co-writer on it and it makes me enjoy it even more!*

Rule Number Four by @buckyswinterbaby • softdom!Bucky Barnes x Reader – Can I just say this is just perfect? Like if I had to picture Bucky as a dom, this is how I would see him. Also, this one-shot isn't too graphic, so if you are looking for a little something but nothing too heavy this is the one for you.

Exile by @sweeterthanthis • Bucky Barnes x Reader – Get yourself some tissues, because I needed them, but again this last week had my hormones on haywire. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Lau uses Grey's Anatomy quotes in this and of course, it’s based on Taylor Swift's song Exile so it’s got some Major Angst, this isn’t a happy one-shot but it does have smut. I love it so much. Thank you for blessing us with your creativity Lau!

Alcoholic Juice Box by @ayybtch • Bucky x Reader – Best Boyfriend ever meets adulting sucks significant other, but he’ll do whatever he can to make them happy.

Cold Body by @sergeant-bonky • Bucky x Reader – Pure Fluff and cuddles, everything I needed after last week.

Santa Baby by @shield-agent78 • Bucky x Darcy Lewis Friends/Bucky x Reader – Steve needs some super-soldier Advil to put up with Bucky but knows Darcy can help him! This is just so fluffy and perfect! I ship Bucky and Darcy but also seeing them as friends is great!

Cookie Monster by @bugsbucky • Dad!Bucky & Daughter – STRAIGHT UP FLUFF THAT FEEDS YOUR SOUL

Stucky

Secrets by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor • Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Dark! King Steve Rogers – A buried family secret comes to light thrusting you to the forefront of an old alliance. (Sorry there is no Masterlist and I know Roo has 7 Chapters as of right now.)

The Concubine by cherinenymphe • DARK!Stucky x Concubine!Reader — Reader is favorite Concubine of the King Steve Rogers, and when he joins forces with King James Barnes, she soon finds herself the favorite of both kings. How long can reader satisfy the kings before jealousy arises risking both kingdoms alliances?

Not Red Riding Hood by @angrythingstarlight • A/B/O Dynamics Dark Stucky x Reader – Sometimes you just need to read about some wolfs chasing after you to claim and what do you know it’s good in a dark sort of way. *winks*

Misc.

This Mission by @quietmyfearswith • Captain Syverson x Stucky x Reader – Is it getting hot in here? Because I sure needed to be doused in a bucket of ice water after reading this! It’s got EVERYTHING!

treat you well | stackie by @sexyxseabassx • Stackie x Reader – SMUT/Threesome ~ I didn't know I needed Anthony Mackie, Sebastian Stan, and Reader inserts in my life or anything of the sorts really till I read this, and I loved it. All I can say is that I hope Shreya brings us more. Thank you for blessing us with this one-shot.

Writers

@pagesoflauren – Let me tell you about my friend Lauren... Lauren is a fantastic writer, she is always blowing me away with her talents. I’m also in awe of how she always makes time to give us chapters even though she has a hectic life schedule. If you take the time to read Lauren’s writing I promise you won't be let down, it's some of the most amazing pieces I’ve ever read. She's constantly coming up with new stuff.

@sweeterthanthis – I binged Lau’s masterlist and let me just say, they are are a freaking amazing writer. Lau made me cry, laugh, and get angry with the reader inserts! Lau’s talents know no bounds. I look forward to see what 2021 has in store for Lau.

@literate-lamb – I binged their small yet so good masterlist as well. They are a really good writer of dark!fics and they have a way of pulling you in and making you feel as if you are in it.

@cherienymphe – Don’t know how I slept so long on her blog, but her writing is dark and beautiful. It sends chills down your spine and it also makes you weep for the characters. Truly beautiful! *chefs kiss*

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phantomrose96 · 3 years

Text

Flash in the Eyes Part 2

(Part 1)

More fixed!Flynn lore? More fixed!Flynn lore

..................

Danny lay awake. He kept his eyes glued to the bedroom ceiling, studded with glow-in-the-dark stars from corner to corner. They doused him in the tiniest shimmer of ethereal light – the second source of light in the room – after his phone, which he gripped loosely in the hand dangling off the bed. The phone cast its own faint shimmer outward, a ray into the bleak night.

And he himself made for the third source of light, he supposed. That pulse of iridescent green from his eyes, which he felt like the beginnings of a headache building inside his head, had been spurred to the front by the trickle of anxiety that kept his nerves alight now at 3:30 am.

The plastic stars above. His phone glowing outward. (His radioactive eyes, pinned to Aunt Alicia.)

Danny was not allowed to forget the incident. He was not allowed to move on. Even home, it followed him.

His phone, with that dim light, was open to a single message that had been plaguing him all day. A single Facebook message, from a profile wishing to connect, with no profile picture, no history, no other friends, made day-of. “danny. this is your aunt alicia. never would of thought id be using of one these computers. wierd things. any way. wanted to apoligize about scarring you. I have a mean face maddie knows. i dont have a computer. this is in the libary in town. but hoping you culd call me on the phone. wanted to ask you somthing more. thanks. xxx-xxx-xxxx…”

Danny left the message on read. He figured it didn’t much matter that his read-receipts were on. Alicia made it clear she had no access to a computer, or likely internet for that matter. This was a message cast into the void, framed as an apology, but fishing for information that made Danny’s skin crawl to think about. Alicia could talk to his mom any time. But she had chosen not to. She’d chosen to contact Danny directly, through a means of great hassle for a woman so sworn-off technology, living so far away from proper civilization. And she’d chosen to do so after seeing that flash in his eyes.

This wasn’t like fighting ghosts. Those were pure physical scuffles which ended in him casting the creature off into the portal to (hopefully) never be heard from again. This instead was an anxiety pricking along every nerve of his skin, deep-seeded and deep-sewn from the woman who terrified him all these many years, whose connection to his ghost-hunting parents sent his brain into spirals of dread for all the what-ifs he conjured.

“You seem deep in contemplation. Perhaps I should come back later?”

Danny sat bolt-upright, spinning fast enough to see new stars spawning in his vision. He blinked them away, and sucked in a sharp inhale of breath as he snapped his head to the side.

Half-translucent, idly floating, Vlad Plasmius appraised him from the other side of he bedroom, studying Danny the way a teacher might study a struggling student.

Danny’s transformation and leap from bed came as one. His covers blew back, phone clattering to the floor forgotten.

“Plas—”

“Yes yes, ‘it is I, Plasmius’. I believe we’ve done our battle cry introductions enough times for the audience to get the point.”

“What are you doing here?!”

“Just dropping in on old friends.” Plasmius, still floating, performed a motion as if to sit. He swung one leg over the other, and reduced the miasma of pressure that his aura sent off. He was relaxed, and conversational, and this made Danny’s neck hair prickle all the more.

“All the way from Wisconsin! Yeah just, dropping in at 3 in the morning! Yeah, well, sorry but I don’t buy it, Plasmius. And I’m sending you back to Wisconsin now that you—”

“Seems we’ve both been traveling quite a bit out of state. Tell me was it a fun little vacation? A ghost hunting trip?”

“It—” Danny’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know we were gone?”

“Oh easy, I have ghost sentinels pinned on your house at all hours. They feed me this information.”

“Noted. Thanks for the tip. I’ll be sure to blast them out of existence next time I’m out.”

“I’d love to see you try. They’re masters of stealth.” Vlad flashed a grin. “I have to say I am quite disappointed to see you all back so soon – must have been a short trip. Where did you go?”

“Not telling you. Now why are you here?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

Danny bit down the urge to sucker-punch Vlad on spot. “We were visiting our aunt. Nothing special. Not everything is some big…I dunno… ghost conspiracy, Vlad. Now why are you here?”

“I was simply hoping to catch the house unguarded. You know, explore the lab, see the new contraptions that Maddie designed and Jack botched, perhaps sprinkle some cyanide in the oaf’s cornflakes box.”

“Like I’d let you--!”

“Aunt, did you say, Daniel? Alicia, perchance?”

Danny gave no response. He felt only the twist in his gut, which wrought a smile to Vlad’s face.

Vlad clapped his hands together and continued. “That is a name that brings back memories! She and Maddie were remarkably close. I heard about her constantly – given of course that I am a fantastic listener who never forgets a name or a face, unlike some fools who can’t even remember birthdays – but yes as Maddie’s best listener and best supporter, I feel like I know Alicia personally. Tell me, how is her husband Dale doing? How’s little Flynn? Not so little anymore, I imagine.”

“Don’t… talk about my aunt. That’s weird.” Danny floated backwards, coalescing a lick of flame in his palm. “Also, goes to show how much you know these days. Alicia and Dale have been divorced for like ten years now. And there’s no Flynn. You sure you’re that great a listener?”

Vlad quirked an eyebrow. “Ah, shame how divorce never seems to happen to the right people. Has Alicia tried telling Maddie it’s not too late to follow suit?” Danny unleashed his pulse of energy. Vlad blocked it with a single dismissive wave of his gloved hand. “And Daniel I am referring to your cousin Flynn, about whom I am absolutely not mistaken. Maddie and I were sophomores in college when he was born. Maddie flooded me with pictures of the boy, chubby little thing with red hair like Maddie’s. They moved her to tears, some of them. It was formative for me. The moment I realized that was the future I wished for myself, that I could bring Maddie that same joy with a family of our own. Shame how children don’t seem to happen to the right people either.”

Danny gave no response. He only lingered in the air, drifting slightly, the wafting residue of his attack trailing along his palm.

“You don’t seem so convinced,” Vlad commented.

“I’m not. Aunt Alicia doesn’t have kids. I don’t have any cousins. Unless you count whatever Danielle is.”

“A clone. You have to know the cousin thing was made up.”

“Alicia doesn’t have kids. Bottom line.”

“Did she sign him away in the divorce? That’s cold. I wonder if I could convince Jack to do the same with you.”

“Aunt Alicia divorced without kids, dumbass!” Danny swept a hand out. “She talks about her divorce all the time like it’s the best thing that happened to her, and she’s said how easy it was with just her and Dale and no one else. I don’t know how many other ways I can tell you I don’t have cousins, and I definitely don’t have a cousin named Flynn. You’re making yourself look like an idiot.”

“The opinion of a 14-year-old means very little to me.” Vlad dipped forward, closing the gap between him and Danny by a few feet. The air howled cold behind him. “However I am utterly intrigued to know what became of Flynn then. Clearly something worth keeping from you. Drowned in a pool? Carried off by a bear? Perhaps his parents made a ghost portal a decade prior to yours and he zapped it on from the inside.”

“You’re not funny.”

“I am hilarious, young man.” Vlad uncrossed his legs, still floating, but as though standing once more. “You should respond to your aunt’s message.” Vlad nodded his head to the phone on the floor. “She seems eager to speak to you. Maybe she can tell you what happened to dear little Flynn. And if you don’t, well perhaps I will stop by tomorrow morning for some tea, and ask Maddie myself what became of him. You’re welcome to be in the room when I do.”

“Hey!”

A flash of light momentarily blinded Danny, followed by a pulse of energy, and when Danny opened his eyes again he had to blink through stars.

Nothing remained in the night.

Only the ceiling studded stars above, and the glow of the phone below, and the consumptive chilling green flashing from his own eyes.

#danny phantom #dp #flynn #flynn walker #dp fanfiction #vlad masters

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catracorner962 · 3 years

Text

Karaoke

I promise I can write something that’s pure fluff. See?!

In the newly renovated Fright Zone, the gang is having a party. Catra and Glimmer duet Shaggy. Catra has a surprise. --- AJ Michalka has a phenomenal voice and covers "Warriors" on the SheRa soundtrack. She does this in character as Catra and even says "Hey Adora," at the end, what else did you expect me to do with that except come up with an excuse for Catra to sing this for Adora? I'm sure this has been done before this is just my take. Also whenever I hear "Wasn't Me," or "Angel," by Shaggy I imagine Glimmer and Catra getting drunk and singing it.

Adora brought a hand to her nose, trying to cover her snorting laughter. Besider her Bow swayed in time to the music. Light flashed from above blue and pink.

“HA!!”

Adora couldn’t stop herself, exploding into a fit of giggles, nearly toppling the cocktail in her hand. Nearly sending pink liquid all over her white pants and halter top.

On the stage, her girlfriend and her best friend sang like they hadn’t a care in the world.

“How could I forget that I had given her an extra key? All this time she was standing there she never took her eyes off me!”

Glimmer sang into the mic, her purple leather skirt sparkling in the stage lights.

“Wooow! Yeah Glimmer!” Bow cheered, he took another sip of his beer. More delicately then anyone else around them and probably the only one with a modicum of sobriety left. All around them people sang along, swaying and trying to dance.

“To be a true player you have to know how to play!” Catra sang, winking at Adora from her place on the stage. Her hair had grown out again in the year after the war. Already falling just beyond her shoulders. Adora took a sip of her drink to conceal the blush rising in her cheeks.

“ To be a true player you have to know how to play, if she stay a night, convince her stay a day, Never admit to a word when she say. And if she claim, ah, you tell her, "Baby, no way"

“But she caught me on the counter!” Glimmer’s voice cracked but she kept going,

“It wasn’t me!” Catra leaned forward into the mic.

“Saw me banging on the sofa!” Glimmer laughed, leaning in to meet Catra halfway.

“It wasn’t me!”

“I even had her in the shower!”

“They’re not bad,” Bow admitted whispering in Adora’s ear. The blonde nodded, pulling a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. Catra had convinced her to wear it down for once.

“Saw the marks on my shoulder!” Glimmer and Catra sang in unison. Catra unsheathed her claws in flash, winking again, this time a little more suggestively at her girlfriend in the audience. Cheers erupted throughout the bar, an eager welcome Adora thought, her chest warming. To have Catra greeted with rounds of applause rather than boos and hisses and threats.

“ Honey came in and she caught me red-handed, creeping with the girl next door, picture this, we were both butt-naked, banging on the bathroom floor. I had tried to keep her from what she was about to see, why should she believe me when I told her it wasn't me.”

Glimmer and Catra belted through the mic. It was all Adora could do not to transform into Shera. Just the sight of seeing Catra in the limelight, black pants held up by suspenders, her white shirt open just a tad too loose. She took a swig of her whisky mid chorus and continued to sing.

“I have to hand it to Scorpia and Perfuma; they've really done wonders with the Fright Zone,” Bow mused. He clapped along to the music and finished his drink.

“They sure have!” Adora answered, finally turning her attention from the stage. “Glad they were able to renovate the place into a karaoke bar. Somewhere in the distance Mermista’s groan could be heard, Adora turned. Seahawk and the water princess sat at one of the tables, the pirate’s eyes wide with amazement at the flaming martini set down before him.

“Should I….?” Adora made a b-line towards their table. Mermista flunk out her hand, a spray of water dousing the flames.

“Just drink it,” she groaned to Seahawk’s evident dismay. Adora bit back a grin. It had been awhile since they’d been able to just kickback and relax, indulge even. Post-war meant bringing magic to all the galaxy. Which meant traveling around, squashing the last of Prime’s brotherhood. Plus meetings after meetings and much needed reconciliation between Catra, Entrapta, Wrong Hordak, Scorpia and everyone else. It had been trying and difficult and the work was far from finished. But tonight, tonight was a chance to simply let loose.

“Honey came in and she caught me red-handed, creeping with the girl next door, picture this, we were both butt-naked, banging on the bathroom floor. How could I forget that I had, given her an extra key, All this time she was standing there, she never took her eyes off me!!” Glimmer and Catra finished in unison. Again cheers lifted from the crowd. Glimmer bowed, losing her balance until Catra caught her by the arm to steady her and they made their way down the stage.

“Wow, that was...wow,” Scorpia’s face nearly matched the color of her claws. “That was..I don’t think I understood half those words! But uhh next, next...we have...Perfuma! Who I’ve been told is going to do an...an interpretive dance called Ode to Rain, so that will be….uhh….fantastic.” Scorpia laughed nervously but clapped all the same while Perfuma seemingly floated up the stage.

“Hey!” Glimmer greeted Adora with a hug and Bow with a kiss.

“You were great!” Bow put his arm around her waist. “Who knew you and Catra could duet so well together!”

Glimmer laughed, full and hearty, accepting a glass of sparkling wine from Bow.

“Where is Catra?” Adora looked around the crowd. “I thought she came down with you?”

“She said she had to get ready for something,” Glimmer shrugged.

Adora nodded, trying to quell the bubble of anxiety that threatened to rise.

Catra would be fine, she can be left alone. She’s not a child. She’s perfectly capable.

Bodies pressed against Adora in the maylay of the crowd. Talking and drinking and laughing. The lights flashed all around them. Dizzying.

There’s so many people here….what if...there could be….threats. Some clone we forgot?

Someone wanting to take Catra down?

Adora forced herself to breathe, gripping her glass tight.

“Adora, you alright?” Glimmer touched her arm.

“Yes!” She smiled automatically, “I’m great!” She took a breath, eyes flicking upward as Perfuma left the stage.

Still no sign of Catra.

“It’s just...I worry sometimes...I worry about leaving Catra alone sometimes...what if there’s…”

Glimmer opened her mouth to respond when a cool light drifted across the crowd from above to the stage.

“Adora….you might want to…” Glimmer pointed. Adora followed her gaze, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. Silhouetted against the limelight a lone figure stood before the mic. The outline of someone wearing a tight fitting black dress that fanned out toward the bottom. Catra’s tail swished nervously behind her, ears flicking. She stepped forward, the high slit of her dress revealing one leg as she moved. The light illuminating her freckled face, mismatched eyes gleaming.

“Oh my….” Adora took the last sip of her drink. Beside her bow gasped. Even Glimmer’s eyes stared wide with shock. The hub-bub of the crowd died instantly, everyone holding their breath. Even Emily and Entrapta, who were observing in the corner, fell silent.

Catra’s shaky inhale of breath sounded through the mic throughout the bar. Adora waited, stunned. Taking in her girlfriend, the deep V of her dress, the way she shifted her weight. Then finally, after a mini-eternity, Catra’s eyes slipped close and her voice drifted out:

“We're warriors, unstoppable. We feel the evil coming, and shadows all around.”

She sang low and haunting, each word a melodic whisper. Goosebumps rose on Adora’s skin.

“Danger surrounds us, but won't bring us down. We're on the edge of greatness, turning darkness to liiightt,”

Her voice undulated and moved like the waves, the crowd beginning to hum. She opened her eyes, gold and blue sparkling in the light. Catra’s gaze looked through the throngs of people finally meeting Adora’s. The blonde felt her knees shake, she passed her glass to Glimmer without looking away. Catra smiled,

“We're right beside you, ready to fight. We must be strong! And we must be brave! We gotta find every bit of strength that we have and never let it go!”

“Wooo!! Yaaaah!!!” People exclaimed, clapping. Catra’s smile widened, she took the mic from it’s stand, now walking across the stage, tall and proud and brimming with pride. Adora’s cheeks ached, beaming with a smile. She too clapped along.

“We're bound to this struggle, with mighty sword and flame, we'll never fail you, when you call our name.”

She turned, again meeting Adora’s radiant face across the audience. Their eyes met, though Adora could hardly see her through a fog of tears pressing against her eyes. Her heart expanded so fast and full she thought it would explode. Catra too grinned with confidence, revealing pointed fangs. Her eyes dazzled, shoulders lifting as she sang, not once looking away from Adora.

“Together we'll be heroes, joining forces as one. Strong as the steel we carry, we rise like a su...uu...uu...un!”

She hit the note perfectly, the whole bar erupting into ecstatic joy.

“Yeah Horde Scum!” Glimmer fist pumped at the air, jumping up and down. Off to the side of the stage, Perfuma pat Scorpia on the shoulder through her tears.

“That’s my wildcat!”

Catra sang through another round of the chorus, parading back and forth. People reached out from below towards her, laughing and whooping.

“Cause we're warriors, we are unstoppable,nothing's gonna get in our way. We're gonna win in the end….”

Catra sang through the last chorus, coming to stand gracefully before the microphone stand once more.

“We're gonna reach inside, still together and fight and never let it go. We must be strong…” She finished with a flourishing whisper. Looking at Adora from her poised position stage, she blinked, slowly, her own voice cracking with emotion.

“Hey Adora.”

Tears streamed down Adora’s face, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel herself glowing, transforming, this time brought on by pride and admiration for Catra. Catra who only sang in secret, in dark places, until now. Catra who had always deserved every bit of attention and affection and praise but never got it, until now. Catra who was so guarded who never let herself betray emotion or vulnerability, until now.

There was a white flash, people gasped, and Adora didn’t need to look down at herself to know she’d become Shera.

Catra climbed down from the stage with Scorpia’s assistance and made her way Adora, people parting for her instantly, cheering and clapping.

“Catra! Y...you! You’re…”

Catra’s lips cut off the rest of her sentence, pressing in a full deep kiss, nearly melting against Adora, well, Shera’s chest. Adora put her arms around her girlfriend holding her close, one hand to the small of her back. She had to control herself in public after all, though it was hard to do with her girlfriend looking so...so ravishingly gorgeous, so happy and exuberant. A new round of tears spilled down her cheeks.

“I knew you could sing,” she breathed, breaking the kiss only to press her forehead against Catra’s which required her to lean down a little more in this form. “But not...l...like that.”

Catra laughed, holding Adora’s hand to her face and leaning into her touch. The ruckus of people seemingly disappearing. The only thing that mattered, the center of her universe was already right in front of her.

“I love you,” Catra whispered.

“I love you too, so much.” Adora pulled her in for another kiss, the cheers escalating around them.

Catra rolled her eyes only to be shoved by Glimmer’s arms around her waist.

“Catra, where was that voice when we were singing?! I need to up my game!”

“That...that was beautiful Catra!” Bow wiped his eyes with his yellow jacket. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“Alright, alright Sparkles,” she pulled away from Adora’s hold. “Next time we do Angel by Shaggy I’ll be sure to really sing it with pathos, yeah? And take it easy Arrow Boy your gonna get snot all over your jacket.”

Glimmer only rolled her eyes but gave Catra a kiss on the cheek.

“Well next rounds on me Wildcat!” Scorpia announced happily clapping Catra across the back gently. This time Catra didn’t stiffen or bristle at the touch but smirked. A testament to how far she’d come in such a short time. Adora could hardly contain her emotion.

“You may regret that Scorp.”

The night continued on, Catra changed back into more comfortable pants and dress-shirt. Rogeilo sang...well..grunt roared some prolonged ballad that no one but Lonnie understood. Mermista and Seahawk performed no less than seven shanties. A curtin was set on fire by the third one. Frosta entertained with a series of impressive ice sculptures and Double Trouble, dramatic as they were, impressions that left everyone’s sides sore from laughter. Scorpia closed out the evening, singing a rendition of “Beautiful,” by Christina Aguilera that had everyone, even Catra in tears by the end. Though Catra swore her eyes were she only irritated by the bright lights.

Adora put her arms around Catra from behind, still having advantage of being in her Shera form. Muscular arms holding her girlfriend close in the dark of the crowd while Scorpia, sang her last few notes. Catra swayed in tandem, tail going around her girlfriend’s leg, she leaned her back against Shera’s broad torso and hummed. Adora planted a kiss on the crown of Catra’s head. The mark of the Heart of Etheria glowing against her chest. In the mass of folks and the company of friends, lights glowing and Catra content in her arms, sniffled happily through tears of joy.

They had indeed won in the end.

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villainousshakespeare · 3 years

Text

Putting it Back Together Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Adam/OFC

Rated M (will probably change to E) - Grief, angst, eventual smut, mention of characters dead before the start of the story, blood, slow burn

Summary: Since the death of his beloved Eve, Adam had been barely living, only alive due to a promise he made to her. Then one night he meets his new neighbor, a woman dealing with grief of her own. Will they help each other heal or drive each other crazy?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack

For six nights Lilly didn't hear so much as a note of music coming through her walls. Were it not for the occasional banging sounds of large something or others being moved about, she might have thought her surly neighbor had relocated to get away from her. More likely, she realized, was that he had put on head phones to keep her prying ears from his precious compositions.

That being the case, Lilly did her best (which in all honesty was lousy) to put him out of her mind and get on with her life. She continued her late night foraging through her grandmother's belongings, pausing at regular intervals to sob when some unexpected jogger of memory was discovered. By the time she had worked her way through the main bedroom, where she happened upon a collection of love letters that Gran and her ill fated fiancé, Lilly's Grandfather though she had never met him, had written during WWII, she was surprised that she had any tears left. No wonder Grandma Lillian had never married, when she had found and lost such a great love while still in her college years. The paper was well worn, and Lilly could just imagine the older woman returning to read them again and again.

Less romantic but no less special was a photo Lilly found where it had fallen behind a bureau. The picture showed Grandma Lillian, glamorously beautiful in a long, sleek sheath dress and beads, singing on stage in front of a three piece jazz combo. Lilly smiled, naming each of the musicians in turn. The original band had long since gone their own ways professionally, but they had remained close friends regardless. The drummer had taken his savings and invested in a small blues and jazz club not far from here. Grandma Lillian had stopped in their on a regular basis to belt out a tune or two, always to great applause. Lilly's nights there, originally under age and smuggled in, were some of her favorites.

Impulsively, Lilly sprang to her feet. There was no reason she had to stay stuck inside all of the time. Gran would want her to get out and savor life; beyond a doubt she had always done so. Rummaging through her belongings she managed to find a simple black skirt and a red top that she had always liked. She brushed out her long hair with defrizzer until she could tolerate the way it looked billowing around her and applied a touch of lipstick and eye makeup to make her look "less like the walking dead" as Gran would have said. All and all she didn't look half bad. Throwing on a wool coat and pair of boots and putting the photo lovingly in one of about seventy gift bags she had found squirreled away earlier, Lilly made her way out into the cool night air.

It was after eleven, late to be heading out but still relatively early for a Friday in the city. A drifting of clouds obscured and showed the moon at intervals, adding occasional light to the dim streets with their burnt out lights. She would be out of the residential blocks soon and into the more bright and crowded nightlife that teemed nearby.

"It's not wise to be out alone at this hour," a low voice spoke in her ear as a hand descended to her shoulder.

Lillian let out a scream and turned around, bottle of pepper spray pulled from her pocket ready to douse her attacker. Before she could press the button the bottle was knocked from her hand to roll down the street as her wrist was locked in the tight grip of a large, leather encased hand.

"Don't," her assailant said calmly.

Looking up, far up, she confronted a pail face beneath a shock of wild, dark black hair, eyes obscured by sunglasses despite the lateness of the hour.

"Sorry if I frightened you," her neighbor said with a slight smirk, taking off the ridiculous glasses.

How had she not recognized that sinful purr of a voice? She heard it often enough in her fantasies.

"I wasn't frightened," she lied automatically, only to add as he continued to stair at her "well, maybe startled."

"Just imagine if I had been someone else. It might not have been so pleasant."

"Yes, because you are the soul of congeniality," she sniped back.

Slowly Lilly's heart beat was returning to normal, or at any rate as normal as it was like to get with him still holding her wrist. She startled easily at the best of times, and in a dark side street when by herself was far from optimal. He seemed to realize this, and was obnoxiously amused by it. Lilly did her best to glare at him, only too aware that she most likely looked like a little yippy dog.

"Fair enough," he agreed, finally letting go of her hand. "My point still stands though. It's not safe out here. All kinds lurking about."

"Monsters waiting to kill me and gobble me up?" she quipped lamely.

"You'd be surprised."

Bending down, he retrieved her pepper spray from where it lay on the street. He examined it as though he wanted to take it apart and put it back together again.

"Not very well constructed," he said at last, surrendering it back to her. "You'd be more likely to spray yourself by accident? Have you?"

"No!" she said indignantly, putting it back in her bag.

He looked at her knowingly and a tell tale blush spread over her cheeks.

"I did spray a date once," she admitted. "In the back of a cab. I was looking for something else in my purse, I pulled it out, and it went off right in his face."

She could not be entirely sure, but she thought she might just detect the hint of a smile twitch his lips. Well, wonders would never cease!

"Dare I ask if there was a date number two?"

"There was not," she sighed, beginning to walk again in the direction she had been going as he fell in beside her. "As it turned out, he deserved the dousing, though I didn't know it at the time."

"Well then," he said, long stride forcing her to trot, "it was all for the best."

"I guess. He was a broker, had a ton of money but was still rude to the waiter and left a horrible tip. I slipped an extra twenty in while he was in the bathroom."

"Fucking zombies. You're right, he did deserve it."

Lilly walked in silence for a few moments, wondering what on earth was happening. He had never seemed to particularly like her, in fact he had all but run away the previous two times she had come into his presence. So what was he doing now, walking next to her and talking as though he might actually not wish to be anywhere else?

"Where were you going?" she asked when she couldn't stand it anymore.

"Out," he said, jus the one word again.

"Oh, I used to go there all the time!" she said, making her eyes go wide and vacant. "They have horrible service, but the atmosphere is to die for!"

"Sorry, I'm not used to...."

"Talking?" she supplied helpfully as his words trailed off.

"Yeah," he agreed, not seeming to take offense.

Lilly watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was so odd. Handsome beyond question, talented, and clearly intelligent. One would think he would be out with a different partner every night if he wanted. So why did he spend all his time alone in a rundown brownstone? Why was he so closed off? She loved and hated puzzles, and he was one just begging to be solved.

"Where were you going?" he turned the tables on her.

"A club down on Avenue A."

"Ah, going to do what passes as dancing these days?" he said with a curl of his lip. "Grind against someone mindlessly to tuneless music?"

"Well, aren't we the old snob," she mocked him. "No, as a matter of fact it's a music club. Jazz and blues mostly. Small acts, lots of musicians stopping in when home from a tour, that sort of thing. Nothing fancy, but it has character."

"Really?" his interest seemed to be captured as she described it to him.

"Do you want to come?" she asked, careful to keep her voice neutral while she willed him to say yes.

"I suppose it's better than anything else I have to do," he grimaced.

"Wow, thank you so much," she said, pulling a face.

"I... I told you, I'm not good at this. I don't get out much, or see people."

"It's okay," she told him, fighting an exciting flurry in her stomach. "That's the good thing about music, you can just listen."

"Yeah," he agreed, eyes curiously bright as he looked at her.

They walked in silence the rest of the way. Lilly was hyper aware of him next to her, towering over her diminutive height. She did find that she felt more safe with him beside her. Whenever they neared a group of people on the side walk one look at him was enough to move the loiterers scurrying out of their way. She also caught quite a few glances being thrown their way, particularly after he had walked by. He did have a noticeably nice rear view, she allowed. Scampering after him did have an upside she supposed.

They arrived at the club and Lilly smiled at the portly man sitting on the stool by the door. Sidling up behind him, she reached out and pulled his suspenders, allowing them to snap back into place. He spun around, face breaking out into a huge grin when he saw her. The next moment she was swept into a bear hug that left her breathless.

"Lotus blossom!" he grinned at her. "You're looking all grown up! Haven't seen you around here in years!"

"Not all of us are frozen in time, Q," she said with a laugh. "How long have you been wearing those suspenders?"

"Since you were first sweet talking me to let you in," he smiled back. "You and that Gran of yours. Get me in all kinds of trouble!"

"You found enough trouble all on your own."

"True that, but you always added just that extra dash. We were all sorry to here about Miss Lillian. She was a real special lady, and no mistake."

"Thanks," Lilly fought back tears as he swallowed a lump in her throat. "Is Ossie here tonight?"

"You know he'd never miss a Friday," Q rolled his eyes. "Who else would let him play besides his own bar."

"Thanks, Q. Talk to you later."

"This tall fella with you?" he looked her neighbor, once again sporting his sunglasses, up and down protectively.

"Yeah," she said, once again feeling that butterfly sensation.

"Well, alright then. You be nice to her, or big guy or not, I'll take you down."

Adam didn't dignify that with a comment, merely giving the doorman his usual stare.

"Tell the barkeep I'm buying your drinks tonight," Q added as they started in.

"Do you really want to do that?" she asked with a laugh. "You know how I am."

"Damn girl, just try not to bankrupt me," he chuckled.

Lilly laughed and walked into the dark club, sense memory falling over her like a warm blanket. Music, friendly faces, and a handsome man to escort her. What more could she ask for? She just hoped she could keep from saying or doing something stupid for the rest of the night.

***

Adam was convinced that his new neighbor destined to drive him to distraction.

It had never really occurred to him how thin the walls of his home were. If it had realized he would have never bought the damn place. Of course, until she had moved in it didn't really matter. The old woman who had been her Grandmother would never have been so gauche as to interfere in his composing. The granddaughter though...

And what galled Adam most of all was that she had been right. The minute her barked out suggestion came slamming into his creative space he knew that she was dead on. He played the piece, hoping against hope as he came to the end that her contribution would prove just as off as his useless attempts had been. And yet he knew before he struck the chord that it perfectly completed his work. It was humiliating!

After that he made sure to plug in his headphones before turning on his instruments. He didn't want to rude after all, he told himself. It had nothing to do with the streak of embarrassment he had felt at her correction. Adam just didn't want to intrude on her piece.

The way was she was intruding on his. He could hear her all the time. Moving furniture around, cooking in her kitchen, even, to his horror, running her shower. He tried not to think about what she might look like under a stream of hot water, body soapy as her hands slid along its curves. Tried to keep the memory of the taste of her out of his mouth as the vision sprang unbidden into his brain.

It was almost worse when he would hear her crying, which was often. Adam had avoided such open displays of emotion even when he was human. His own tears were only ever shed in private now that Eve was gone. Why then did he feel the urge to break through the walls separating them and wrap the girl once more in his protective embrace?

It must be because he had fed on her, he decided. It was only a few drops, true, but it had still managed to spark something within him. It was such an intimate act, drinking someone's blood. He should have just rinsed it down the drain and been done with it. But it was so sweet, so hot and delicious on his tongue, that would have seemed like a sacrilege.

He was so attuned to her puttering around next door that he was starting to track her movements through the house. It was therefore a start to his system when he heard her front door open and realized that she was going out. At this late hour, with the streets dark and nearly deserted nearby, what was she thinking? Grabbing his coat, glasses, and gloves with a snarl, he was out the door before he could think.

She was not hard to catch. One of his steps could account for three of hers. She made an enticing picture as she ambled down the street, swinging a little gift bag as she walked. Red coat and bright hair caught the light from the moon when it cut through the drifting clouds above. Her skirt displayed a tantalizing stripe of bare leg above a pair of black boots, and he found his mind drifting to how easy it would be to access her femoral artery in such an outfit.

Had she no idea what a tempting target she made? Quickly walking up behind her, he clamped his hand down on her shoulder and growled into her ear, careful to keep his voice as calm as possible.

"It's not wise to be out alone at this hour," he said.

She was predictably flustered by his approached, and he took a kind of pleasure in making her squirm even more. After all, she was responsible for his discomfort over the past week; it was only right she should feel a little back. He was actually rather enjoying bandying words with her, he realized, until she confessed that she was on her way to a club.

Adam could see it clearly in his mind. Her coat over some chair, she would be clad only in the short black skirt and the tight red satin top he could make out underneath. Her hips swaying as her cloud of hair moved around her, she would catch the eye of any man there. Some zombie or other was bound to come up to her, predatory and drunk most likely. His hands would roam her as they danced, on her bare leg, or sliding around her waist, brushing against her breast, her ass, pulling her close to his sweaty body as he ground against her his hardening dick.

"Ah, going to do what passes as dancing these days?" he said with an angry curl of his lip. "Grind against someone mindlessly to tuneless music?"

"Well, aren't we the old snob," she relied, rolling her eyes. "No, as a matter of fact it's a music club. Jazz and blues mostly. Small acts, lots of musicians stopping in when home from a tour, that sort of thing. Nothing fancy, but it has character."

"Really?"

That sounded... not terrible.

"Do you want to come?"

Adam opened his mouth to say no. He never went out, not to clubs or bars or any other place filled with mindless hordes of zombies. But as he looked at her, trying not to let him see how hopeful she was, something inside him softened while another part had completely the opposite reaction altogether.

"I suppose it's better than anything else I have to do."

"Wow, thank you so much."

He honestly hadn't meant to poke her with that comment. It was himself he was frustrated with, not her.

"I... I told you, I'm not good at this. I don't get out much, or see people."

"It's okay," she told him. "That's the good thing about music, you can just listen."

"Yeah."

The comment took Adam aback. That was exactly how he felt. So many people wasted time with needless babble. It was so much easier to just listen. Let the atmosphere and the music take you over and move you. Why didn't more people realize that? The thing he hated most about seeing music live were all the people who insisted on talking over it.

He had an odd moment when she hugged the doorman at that club, fighting back the urge to rip the man's throat open and soak the street in his blood. He managed to fight it back once he saw that the relationship was clearly more paternal than romantic. Not that he cared if she had romantic relationships, of course. He just felt protective over her. Because of the blood.

They entered the establishment and Adam looked around with tentative approval. It was dark, not overly crowded, and those that were there sat and listened attentively to the band playing on the stage. She led him over to the bar, where she leaned in to say hello to the woman working behind it. Evidently she knew this whole place well. Not at all where he would have pictured her hanging out.

"Hey, Ivy," she said, just loud enough to be heard but not so loud as to disturb the crowd.

"Lilly! So sorry to hear about Lillian. We all miss her around here. The usual?"

"Yeah, thanks. Oh, and Q says he's paying for it."

"Oh, big spender," the bar tender laughed. "Hi, I'm Ivy. And you are?"

"Adam," he supplied tersely.

"What can I get for you, Adam?" she asked, eyes flickering to his companion and back.

"Nothing, thank you," he answered.

Ivy moved away to make her drink and Adam sighed in relief. It would be much easier to hold himself back from fantasizing about drinking his companion's blood if she were intoxicated. He tried to not let his relief be tinted by disappointment.

"Adam?" she said, looking at him with a half smile. "That fits, I guess. I'm Lilly."

Lilly, he thought. That fit her as well. She was dainty and pretty, although it was sometimes obscured by her clumsiness. Vaguely he noticed the band had just ended a set and applauded automatically, but his attention was focused on fitting Lilly's name with her person.

"Here you go, sweet heart," Ivy interrupted, setting a pint glass filled with light pink liquid down in front of her. "Don't drink it too fast."

The women laughed and Adam raised his brow in question.

"Cranberry and seltzer," Lilly said with a grimace. "I don't drink. Doesn't interact well with my anxiety meds. I know, it makes me a bit of a drag, but -"

"No," he interrupted her. "I prefer it, actually. I don't drink either. Alcohol."

"Oh, well thanks. Or something."

She looked down shyly at her drink, playing with the straw. Adam gave himself a mental shake. She was a human. A zombie. And an annoying one at that. She had cried on him, pried into his wiring project, intruded on his music. Why was he so fascinated with her? Was it just that he longed to taste her again? But if so, then why did he imagine tasting other things than just her blood?

"My Grandmother used to sing here," she told him out of nowhere. "That's her photo over there, behind the bar. Lillian Bell. The owner was her drummer for a while back in the 60's. She would bring me here to listen to what she considered real music. She was a bit of a snob. You would have liked her."

"I'm sure I would have."

Adam scoured his memory, trying to think if he had ever heard of the woman. He thought he might have, actually. He had a vague recollection of a small woman with a big voice that looked not dissimilar to the photo she indicated.

"That's how I know music," she continued, chewing on the straw and drawing undo attention to her mouth. "I don't sing myself, or play much of anything well, but I have an excellent ear."

"Much to my gratitude," he said, realizing at that moment he did feel grateful to her for her assistance.

"Sorry about that," she turned the shade of her shirt. "It sometimes is physically painful for me to hear the wrong note. Or, I mean... not wrong wrong... I meant... oh gosh..."

Adam let her squirm for a few more minutes before putting her out of her misery. She was rather delightful twisting on her stool, looking for a way out of the trap her mouth had gotten her into. He had the feeling it was not an uncommon occurrence for her.

"It was wrong," he said at last, taking pity. "I was stubbornly trying to force a finish that didn't belong. I can be arrogant that way at times."

"No, not you!" she protested mockingly. "I never would have imagined!"

Against his usual nature and inclination, Adam felt a smile begin to raise the corners of his mouth. She was incorrigible, this woman. He could tell that she was intimidated by him, hell, he had cultivated that in her, and yet she still said whatever popped into her head, fear be damned. She was brave, and that was a rare quality it seemed to him.

"Well, if it isn't my little Lilly!"

Adam looked up to see the drummer from the last group sauntering over. Lilly jumped off of her stool and hugged him warmly, but this time Adam had no fear it was anything other than familial affection. He was ancient, if not compared to Adam than to other humans, easily in his late 80s at least. Still, he had held a steady beat. The musician in Adam had to respect that.

"Ossie, it's so good to see you!" Lilly gushed. "I'm sorry I haven't been by in so long."

"We all know why, Lil," the old man sighed. "Lillian didn't want you to see she was failing, so she made up lies to keep you away. I yelled at her for that, don't think I didn't!"

"I can only imagine," she said with a watery smile.

"And who is your young man, missy?"

Adam inwardly rolled his eyes at the moniker, not so much because it assumed they were together but that he was young.

"My friend," Lilly corrected him hastily. "Adam. He's a musician too."

"Good set," he nodded to the drummer.

"Well, I'm not sure how I feel about that," Ossie looked at him appraisingly. "You can do a lot better than one of us."

"Friend, Ossie," she stressed again. "And while you might be my almost Grandad, you are not my father!"

Adam wondered why it bothered him that she was so quick to disavow any serious connection to him. It must be his pride, he decided. She had seemed taken by him that first night on the roof, and certainly the evening he had knocked her over and she had proceeded to stare at his bare chest. He had rather liked the way her eyes lingered on his muscles, to be honest. But perhaps his churlishness had put her off. If so, good for both of them

"You watch what you are saying, Lilly," Ossie scolded her. "You know your Gran had eyes for no one but your Grandpop. When you find a love like that, you can get buried in the grief of it when it's gone, it and forget to let yourself move on. Don't make that same mistake."

"I have to fall in love once first, before I can move on to a second," she said.

Adam leaned back against the bar. Is that what he had been doing? Getting buried in his grief? Eve had made him promise to live, but was he really holding up his vow to her? It made him nervous to even think about.

"I have something for you," Lilly handed the bag to Ossie. "Open it after I'm gone, I can't deal with crying again tonight."

"You are such a sweet pea," he said. "And that reminds me, I have something for you, too! I was cleaning out my office, and I found some master tapes of one of our old recording sessions. And there's Miss Lillian, singing to make your heart break! You got an analogue player at the house? One of the old type, mind you?"

"I don't know," Lilly bit her lip. "I haven't seen one, I don't think."

"I have one," Adam offered, before he even thought about what he was saying. "We can listen to it at my place."

"Well, you might just be worth something after all," Ossie beamed at him.

Adam looked back and forth between Lilly and Ossie, both smiling at him as though he had hung the moon. Inside where his heart once beat, he felt an ever so slight easing that was almost a pain.

What, he wondered, had he gotten himself into?

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headaching · 3 years

Note

i'll eat my own face if you don't post a headaches excerpt <3

no please don't eat your face i'll do anything

Ty Lee begins spreading the makeup across Mai’s cheek in one long motion. This is worse than the eyes, Mai thinks. Her open eyes find no refuge from Ty Lee’s beautiful face; her brows are furrowed in concentration, bare lips pursed into a thin line, eyes rarely blinking. Regrettably for Mai, Ty Lee’s hand abandons her arm to hold the compact of white makeup, dipping the brush back into it more frequently as she continues.

“Are you okay?” Ty Lee asks after a while, when she moves on to Mai’s neck. Sweat beads Mai’s forehead.

“Yeah, of course,” Mai lies, completely avoiding Ty Lee’s face. Ty Lee is silent at first, and when she’s done with the face makeup, she sets the brush and compact on the table. She sighs and steps closer to Mai, holding a small brush doused with red lip paint.

“You sure?” Ty Lee sounds genuinely concerned, leading Mai to bitterly wonder when she became such a bad liar.

Although Azula is the last person on Mai’s mind, she says, “Yeah, I’m just worried about Azula’s plan.”

“Well, don’t be. You’re good at this kind of thing.” Ty Lee leans forward and touches Mai’s shoulder freely, and Mai’s heart is at her throat.

“You think so?”

“Um, yes!” Ty Lee laughs, like it’s obvious. “You’re intimidating to most people, and you get what you want because of it. It’s awesome.” Mai allows a tiny, closed mouth smile to break onto her face. Ty Lee’s hand is still on her shoulder, and the smallest caress of her thumb doesn’t go overlooked.

“Notice how I said, ‘Most people’? You’re not intimidating to me.” Ty Lee’s smile is honest and extremely smug. Her hand leaves Mai’s shoulder to tilt her chin upward with her thumb and index finger.

Mai exhales slowly, then glances up into Ty Lee’s eyes with a raised eyebrow. “No?” Her voice is ragged and barely audible, not intimidating in the least. Ty Lee shakes her head, and opens her mouth to say something, then closes it. She brings the brush to Mai’s lips and tests a single stroke.

“You’re not so scary. Watch.” Before Mai can do more than gasp, Ty Lee is sitting in her lap. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, so she holds them in front of her like she’s just been caught.

“Ty Lee!” Mai hisses, eyes narrowing in anger.

“You let me do this,” Ty Lee says innocently as she pats Mai’s back with her free hand.

“I didn’t let you; you just did it,” Mai huffs in exasperation, her cheeks unbearably warm and dangerously close to Ty Lee’s face, which remains easygoing.

“But you’re not making me get up,” Ty Lee points out. Mai rolls her eyes for lack of a better response, because she should make her get up, she really should. “It’s okay, Mai,” she consoles, and somehow, the tenderness of her voice eases some tension in Mai, specifically her hands. They hook around Ty Lee’s hips, connecting at the wrists. Ty Lee beams, “Nothing’s wrong with a little casual affection.”

Casual. The word echoes through Mai’s head, leaving her more embarrassed with every passing second. “Just hurry up,” Mai mutters, and Ty Lee breathes a short laugh with the shake of her head. Her braid swings from side to side, and Mai glares at it for being so cute.

“Then, stay still, silly,” Ty Lee commands playfully. Mai is close to fuming, but she keeps her lips closed as Ty Lee finally resumes painting. “I have to sit here, anyway.”

“Another tradition?” Mai asks with as much sarcasm as she can manage while hardly moving her lips.

“Still.” The demand of Ty Lee’s voice shuts Mai up, but it doesn’t stop her from rolling her eyes. Ty Lee begins on Mai’s upper lip as she clarifies, “No, this is just a better angle.”

Mai gives a curt, “Mhmm,” of disbelief.

“It’s important we get this right.” Mai isn’t sure if it’s Ty Lee’s soothing, measured voice or their undeniably intimate sitting arrangement, but her imagination starts to wander. She pictures her fingers dancing along Ty Lee’s back, reaching up to kiss her, drinking in her smile as she draws Mai in closer. This fantasy is where she is safe; Mai’s reality is much more dangerous.

The clang of Ty Lee setting the brush on the counter startles Mai. Ty Lee is still sitting in Mai’s lap, though her torso is stretched to reach the table. She returns empty handed, and she’s pouting.

“You’re not okay,” Ty Lee proclaims.

“What?” Even to herself, Mai sounds far away.

“You were spaced out,” Ty Lee answers, relaxing her fingers on Mai’s shoulders, thumbs gently caressing the fabric of her tunic. Ty Lee’s mystifying, yet unattainable touch combined with Mai’s supposed transparency suddenly has her outraged.

“I told you I’m fine, Ty Lee,” Mai snaps through gritted teeth. Ty Lee’s brows furrow defiantly, but she doesn’t move her hands. Mai’s arms feel numb around her hips.

“You don’t seem fine. I know you.”

“No, you used to know me,” Mai growls, glaring up into wide gray eyes, “but you left.” Me, a choked voice thinks, you left me. “Now, you’re here just because Azula asked you to be.” You left me with her.

“Hey,” Ty Lee says, defensively crossing her arms, and Mai allows a lapse in her indignation to mourn the loss of Ty Lee’s fingers. “You don’t know the whole story. That’s not fair, Mai.”

Mai’s voice gets louder and more acidic as she says, “What’s not fair, Ty Lee, is after all that, you’re pretending like nothing happened.” Like I didn’t spend years convincing myself I was over you. “You don’t get to come back, talk to me, touch me, like nothing ever changed.”

Then again, nothing really has changed between them, has it? Whatever false progress Mai believed she made crumbled between her fingers when Ty Lee hugged her as they reunited. Ty Lee’s deathly sweetness was as potent as it had always been, and even now, though she’s clearly hurt by Mai’s words, her features are soft and still.

Ty Lee’s hands find her own shoulders, and a tear shines in her eye as she leans forward, supporting her cheek against her crossed arms. “I don’t?” Her voice is hushed, strained, on the verge of breaking.

“Not without saying something,” Mai says, her tone much softer as guilt swells in her chest.

“What happened?” Ty Lee whispers.

“Nothing,” Mai replies against any good judgment she has left. “Nothing happened. You were gone, and it was like…” Ty Lee lifts her chin from her arms, her jaw slack, eyes huge and expectant. “I felt nothing anymore.”

Ty Lee sighs and unwinds her arms to rest her hands against Mai’s shoulders again. “I missed you,” Ty Lee says quietly, fiddling with the collar of Mai’s uniform, staring at her fingers. Mai’s tongue is like steel in her mouth, unable to form a response. “I’m sorry,” Ty Lee whimpers, then finally looks into Mai’s eyes. She shakes her head and gives something between a laugh and a cry.

“Ty—” is all Mai can say before Ty Lee’s shoulders crumple forward and heavy tears streak her makeup slightly. “No, no, no,” Mai mutters as she sits up straighter. Instinctively, Mai’s hands find Ty Lee’s shoulder blades and begin rubbing circles into her back. “It’s okay. Don’t cry, Ty Lee. You’ll ruin your hard work.”

Ty Lee’s hands move to touch her face, but Mai’s catch them first. She squeezes firmly, and Ty Lee watches in surprise, tears momentarily lapsed. Mai scours her brain for something, anything, to make them disappear altogether.

“Hey,” she says gently, then smiles, only adding to Ty Lee’s confusion. “Do you remember when you used to have nightmares, at the academy? And you would crawl into my bed because you were scared?”

Ty Lee breathes a genuine laugh, and Mai sighs in relief, ignoring the familiar sense of danger that accompanies these memories. “And you would say, ‘Ty Lee, go to bed,'” she growls in her best Mai impression, gruff and angry, complete with a scowl. Mai rolls her eyes and scoffs, but she’s grinning, too. She tries to elbow Ty Lee, but she can’t without breaking their hold, so she sits back in defeat.

“But you would get in anyway,” Mai deflects.

“You would lay facing away from me,” Ty Lee’s smile is fond, her eyes adrift in the memory, “at first. You’d always turn around eventually.”

“Because I could hear you crying,” Mai murmurs. “I couldn’t sleep,” she adds defensively.

“You always looked so mad,” Ty Lee mocks, and Mai is half tempted to yank her braid.

“I was mad,” Mai retorts instead. “You cried so hard you shook the bed.” Ty Lee laughs, then exhales calmly. Her eyes are suddenly hooked on their hands, which are still clasped together. She pulls one free to intertwine their fingers instead, and any hint of amusement on Mai’s face is gone.

“How else was I supposed to get you to turn around?”

The assuredness of Ty Lee’s voice, the graze of her thumb against Mai’s, the wholesomeness of this memory (and their mutual acknowledgment of its existence), has proven to be too much for Mai. Blood pounds in her head, a headache rapidly approaching. Her eyes water as her palms go clammy in Ty Lee’s.

#tay i was hoping you would ask for this one #it makes me insane im happy to spread that to you <3 #no but tysm for sending this 💕#this is one of my fave fics im working on i love them so much #mailee #mailee fic #becks #my work #asks #mutuals

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yamithediaperdork · 3 years

Text

Envy is a ugly thing

Being the jealous sort and tired of losing to Harry in just about everything, Draco had combed though all of his uncles potions text books and finally found what he was looking for, a luck potion. With this in his system there was NO way Potter would beat him at anything, be it a wizards duel, a quditch match or even at wooing the pants off of a girl! (of course if Draco had known Harry played for the other team so to speak, this might not of been a concern.)

That said it turned out the potion wasn't as easy to make as he thought between the work that went into it and then of course getting the indigents as well. More then once he'd been given a lecture about respecting someone else's stuff by his uncle Snape but since he was Snape's favorite nephew he'd been able to turn on the puppy dog eyes and get out of trouble.

Still the end result didn't look anywhere near like the picture, but Draco knew he had pushed his luck (ironically) so there would be no second chance at this unless the potion worked.

the thick brownish sludge tasted pretty much like Draco had expected and he gagged horrible as he finished it, stumbling out of the closet where he had been brewing it and coming eye to eye with his uncle.

Snape looked over Draco's shoulder and grimaced as he say what his nephew had brewed and curled a lip.

"Please tell me you didn't actually do what I think you did you remarkably stupid boy." He said, in a voice that made it clear he already knew the answer.

"If I said no...would you believe me?" Draco asked, trying to hold back a gag.

"Well Let me put it to you this way. When I realized WHAT you were trying to do I might of mislabeled some of the stock in my storeroom. so instead of a luck potion you just brewed something meant to induce 1 week of total incontinence." Snape said with a smirk.

"...1 week if I drank the whole thing?" Draco squeaked out, turning pale and letting out a foul tasting belch.

"One week per douse...I think we better go get a certain naughty little boy in his nappies." Snape said and chuckled.

"U-Uncle Snape! you can't! there has to be a counter t-" Draco whined, shaking his head.

"There is and no I won't be giving it to you, you made your bed now lie in it. be thankful I'm not making you enjoy the rest of your 'home brew'..looks like there was a enough there to leave you in nappies for 2 months."

As Draco started to bawl the back of his knickers started to fill out and Snape quickly realized he wasn't cut out to handle his nephew's punishment..but that didn't mean he didn't have someone else in mind.

"So..let me get this right.. You'll stop taking house points off of griffindore unfairly..and in return.." Harry was saying, as he stood in front of Snape's desk.

Behind and to the side was a sight that despite what Harry had been told would be expected of him, brought a big stupid smile to his face.

Draco Malfoy in a massive white nappy, sitting on a green blanket and in a white tank top..and sucking on a dummy while looking anywhere but at Potter or his uncle.

"Yes, you'll spend the next week looking after Draco and changing his nappies. You don't have to but I'd also like to encourage you treat him like the stupid infant he's proven himself to be." Snape said, getting a LOUD whimper from Draco. "Honestly, I only let it go this far to teach him a lesson but between the smell." anther whimper. "and the large output." MASSIVE whimper. "I've come to realize I'm not up to the task.I was going to pick one of the Wesley's for this but then Draco insisted on you."

"heh, I see~" Harry said and locked eyes with Draco, who went from a moment of triumph thinking about how potter would be forced to wipe his behind to seeing something in Harry's face that told him mistakes had been made.

"Well before I accept, I have a few questions if I may?" Harry said.

"Go on."

"Will he be coming back to my dorm or will I be spending time in his nursery..oh sorry, his room?" Harry said getting a death glare from Draco while Snape smirked.

"That's up to you, though given the smells he lets off I think your housemates would prefer you have him stink up his own private room." Snape said chuckling.

"Fair enough~ Will he be going to classes while in his nappies or just staying with me and making lots and lots of 'presents'" Harry asked, using air quotes as Draco whined and grumbled.

"I'll excuse him from classes and you as well. I might be a horrible cruel teacher but even I have limits to what I'll subject the whole school too." Snape said reasonably, noting that Draco was bright red in the face and rocking back and forth, a sure sign a 'present' as harry called it was on it's way.

"Alright. Last question: do you mind if I make him sit in a stinky nappy? I think having to 'savor the fruits of his efforts' for a bit will help drive the point home, plus a little bit of nappy rash never hurt anyone." Harry chuckled.

"UNCLE SNAPE! NO! I CHANGED MY MIND!" Draco cried out, clearly realizing just how mean Harry could be.

He was up on his knees and had his hands together, pleading and tears filling his eyes

"Well if you can handle the smell, then all the power to you." Snape said and then glared at Draco. "You made your crib dear nephew, now lay in it. If your anything but a good boy for Potter while he watches you I have NO troubles with reporting back to your father that you did this to yourself on purpose."

Draco's eyes went wide as could be, the thought of his father thinking he WANTED to be a nappy filling baby filling his head and the fear making him fill the seat of his nappies.

Harry watched with sadistic interest as the the back of the diaper grew bigger and a soft crackling of the plastic could be heard between the wails Draco let out as he rubbed his eyes.

A normal person would of felt a little bit of pity for poor Draco, or been totally disgusted.

Harry however found himself grateful for the billowing robes he was wearing as he took glee in the sight.

'Maybe the sorting hat was onto something, I should of been in sylerin.' Harry thought with a mused look, thinking about how much fun he was going to have with the next seven days.

The end

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mintymiknow · 4 years

Text

Winner | Lee Minho

Summary: Minho would always be “winning at life”. He had everything, after all. But maybe “everything” didn’t matter if he couldn’t win over the person he liked the most.

[Racer!Minho x Fem!Reader] [WC: approx. 6.6k words]

Genre: Romance, fluff, slight angst(?)

Warnings: Slightly suggestive at the end

A/N: Wasn’t expecting this to get so long but it is a rather self-indulgent fic. You could just say that I’m whipped for red hair Minho. Also, I don’t even know if he’s a racer in that video but...let’s just imagine ‘cause come on. He’d be one hot racer. I don’t know anything about professional racing so...sorry if things were weird and inaccurate! Enjoy!

Minho always won in life. Sweet and caring family? Yeah, he had that. Cool and funny friends? Oh, he had that too. Good grades, jaw-dropping looks, and breathtaking talents? Consider it done. He also had three wonderful cats. School competitions and contests…he won. Receiving honors as he graduated college? Yes, he’d be happy to show you how many awards he had. However, despite holding a good degree with exceptional grades, Minho wasn’t interested in having a career in the field of his degree.

He wanted to race - professionally. He learned to drive at a young age, and everyone knew he had a talent and skill for driving. He didn’t just want to drive to on long roadtrips with the squad - well, that would be fun, but he wanted more. He wanted to race professionally. So, during his free time, he’d learn how to race and practice with the help of Bang Chan - your older brother.

You were Minho’s classmate in a lot of your subjects throughout your college years, and when he found out your brother was a racer, he wanted to meet him and learn. Long story short, Chan and Minho became best friends, and the older was really excited for the day Minho would begin racing as well.

His parents were surprisingly alright with his career choice, but only under the condition that he graduate college first. In respect to them, Minho - with your support and encouragement - graduated with flying colors.

Not too long after, Chan put in a good word with his “group” of racer friends, and after witnessing Minho’s skill first-hand, they accepted him. That kick-started Minho’s racing career. He’d win race after race, becoming one of the youngest and most successful racers of his age. He’d prove time and time again how capable and skilled he was and had sponsors - and girls - fawning over him.

As always, Minho was winning in life.

But one thing - or person, rather - he could never seem to win over was you, Chan’s sweet and seemingly innocent sister.

His best friend’s sister. Sounded rather cliche enough, but unlike most teenage, pubescent novels, the best friend’s brother could not get the girl.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Minho. It was the opposite as you liked him so much. You not only fell head over heels for his looks, but you were completely enamored by his surprisingly complex personality. Despite the amount of fame and popularity Minho had, the male never forgot to stay grounded and humble. He’d smugly joke around sometimes, but you knew it was his way of having fun.

So, if you did like Minho, why couldn’t he win you over?

It’s not that he couldn’t. In fact he won you over even before he became a popular racer. He won you over the day you spilled coffee on his white shirt, and though he was glaring at first, he laughed it off and ended up making a joke over it. He won you over when he smiled at assured you that you didn’t need to worry about a shirt he could easily wash and replace. He won you over when he offered to buy you another coffee while brushing away a tear that had unconsciously slipped from your eyes because you thought he’d be furious. He won you over when he asked if you burned yourself despite him being the one doused with the brown liquid.

You could go on forever about how Minho would endlessly win you over with the simplest gestures, but you never responded to his flirtatious advances for one reason: fear.

You knew Minho would always be popular no matter where he went. Even in his racing career, he was popular and winning at everything. You, on the other hand, saw yourself as just the “sweet and supportive” best friend. Minho excelled in everything he did, and while you did good, you thought you were nothing compared to him.

There were a million prettier, smarter, and talented girls than you. Would Minho still stick with you when he rose further into fame? If he continues to reign as the young racing champion, would he still want you over every other woman he could have at the snap of a finger?

You were afraid he’d eventually lose interest in you as he continued to endlessly rise in fame. Because of that thought, you couldn’t bring yourself to officially be “his lover”.

To Minho though, you were the greatest being to ever exist. You were stunning in his eyes, beauty rivaling the cosmos. He saw your heart as the most tender and caring one to exist, smitten by how much you showed your concern towards his well-being. But contrary to how people saw you - simply sweet, innocent, and naive - Minho knew you were sensible, a bit sassy, and definitely coy. You were smarter and tougher than you let people on, strong-willed, independent and determined in fact.

Minho had yet another race and invited you to watch him. Since most of your mutual friends were going to be there, you decided to go as well. You did, of course, want to cheer for your dear friend.

Hours before the race started, you and a few friends arrived early to have a small gathering with your racer friends. There was a small snack bar nearby, so that was where you all went. Minho was with Chan and another racer - Hyunjin - when you and the other guys started to walk towards their direction. “Lover boy’s girl is here.” Chan smirks.

“She’s not my girl.” Minho raises an eyebrow.

Hyunjin scoffs before whispering, “Not yet.”

With a playfull roll of his eyes, Minho gently shoves Hyunjin which causes the younger to laugh. Changbin reaches the boys first, bumping their fists as he grins, “Good luck. Are you racing each other?”

You follow soon, going over to your brother’s side to hug him. Chan wraps an arm around your shoulder, “Yes, and I’m going to beat their assess.”

“In your dreams.” Hyunjin slings an arm around Jeongin’s shoulder as the younger arrives, “Should I remind you who won last time? Right, me.”

“We let you win.” Minho teases, and Chan laughs with him.

As Jisung and Seungmin talk with Felix about the pit-stops and car maintenance, Hyunjin, Chan and Changbin begin to place imaginary bets on who would end up winning this round. Minho then approaches you, wrapping an arm around your waist in a subtle manner. He smirks charmingly, whispering into your ear, “Who’s gonna win? Me or your brother?”

You giggle, leaning your head onto his shoulder, “What if I say Channie is winning?”

Minho feigns a hurt look, pouting his lip. “Ouch. That’s a foul, y/n.” he chuckles afterwards, pinching your cheek.

You bite back a giddy smile and wrinkle your nose instead. You then squirm out of his hold, holding his arm down so he doesn’t wrap in around you again. With an innocent and neutral expression, you tilt your head and say, “Will you prove me wrong then?”

Minho looks almost discouraged for a split-second, but he regains confidence and gives you a cheeky wink. “Do I get a prize if I do?” the male asks, bringing his hand to your cheek to caress the skin.

You hum, allowing him a second to do as he pleases before you gently take his hand in yours, drawing it away from your face. “I’ll think about it.” you chuckle, “Depends on how much you wow me.”

“I’ll take that as a challenge.” Minho grins, eyes twinkling with determination.

You both stare at each other for a moment, eyes singing a million songs and sharing a million untold stories with a single gaze. You fear that if Minho peered long and hard enough, he’d see through you and catch on to what you really wanted to tell him. You’re too busy untangling your brain to notice that Minho had inched closer, fingers lightly dancing on the curve of your waist. When he makes one last step closer, you feel his breath on your nose, snapping you from your thoughts.

You immediately take a step back, flashing the male an ambiguous smile. Minho can’t decipher your expression, tilting his head as he bites his lip. You continue with your coy demeanor, clasping your hands behind your back as you hum, “Prove me wrong, Lee Minho.”

With that, you skip towards your brother, clinging to his arm as you tell him about the car ride on the way here, emphasizing on the part where Changbin and Seungmin wouldn’t stop fighting over the music.

Minho watches you, his eyes filled with two contrasting emotions; the desperate and saddened hues wrestle with the happier and admiration-filled ones, neither emotions willing to back down. It drives Minho crazy the more he stares at you, hypnotized by the melodious sound of your laugh.

He then excuses himself under the guise that he has to prepare a few more things for the race. You watch him walk away as a few girls and boys crowd around him, asking for an autograph or picture. The smile he wears is charming and charismatic, but you are the only one who can tell how empty it is.

The race passes by in almost a flash. The crowd constantly erupts in cheers with a few die-hard fans throwing in a few curses here and there. You and your friends scream and cheer, waving DIY flags around.

Minho feels the adrenaline coursing in his veins, the speed and heat of the moment fueling his drive. He certainly can’t take his eyes off the road - unless he wants to die without winning you over - but he knows your eyes are watching his car in the sea of other racers. He can’t hear your voice with the loudness of the engines and the crowd, but he knows in his heart that you’re cheering him on wholeheartedly.

You always did; in college, in his stupid antics, and even until now.

After a thrilling competition, Minho emerged as the winner for this particular round, earning a roar of cheers and applause for the racer. He stepped out of his red and blue car, taking his helmet off to smile and wave at the fans. His auburn-red hair was messy, a few strands sticking to his forehead due to sweat, but he looked gorgeous as usual.

He smiles wider, waving at more fans who scream his name and yell things like “I love you Minho” or “You’re the best”. You felt proud, a sense of satisfaction and amusement filling you up as your friend was praised. Chan and Hyunjin run over to him, playfully rough-housing and laughing together as if they weren’t just competing a few seconds ago.

Minho breaks free from Chan’s hold to scan the crowd. Of course, he spots Jisung’s brightly blond hair first, but right beside him is you, the only star he wants to see in the universe. He smirks smugly at first, the same look he used to give you whenever he figured things out when you were studying for exams.

When you playfully roll your eyes and stick your tongue out, Minho chuckles softly, his smile melting into a much more gentle grin. His eyes continue to twinkle, focused only on you. You feel the butterflies attacking your stomach, so you bite your lip and smile at him shyly before sticking your eyes to the ground.

Minho doesn’t miss the way you reach out to pinch Changbin’s arm out of giddiness.

As you gather outside the race track, a few news reporters and fans crowd around their respective favorite racers. Your other friends are waiting outside by the snack bar to buy drinks. You try to reach your brother, but Chan is swept away by a few reporters just as Hyunjin’s fanclub smothers him.

You decide to talk to them after all the commotion, but before you can step outside, a hand gently grips your wrist, pulling you back. You collide with a firm chest that is much too familiar for you to be surprised, especially when arms begin to circle around your waist from behind. You can already hear his adorable laugh.

You feel Minho’s chin resting on your shoulder as he cheekily whispers, “So, did I prove you wrong?”

You laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “Yes, you did.” you answer, gently tapping his hands.

Minho doesn’t let go, so you have to wriggle yourself from his hold once again. When he gives you a confused look, you gently smile, gesturing around you, “There are cameras everywhere, Min.”

“So?” he chuckles, “Can’t this racer be happy his best friend is cheering him on?”

“You really think the media will just label me as the ‘best friend’?” you laugh, “Media loves drama. They’ll say I’m your girlfriend or something.”

Just then, a few of his fans giddily walk over to him, asking for a picture and autograph. One even asks for a video message for a friend who couldn’t make it. Minho happily complies with their wishes, wearing yet another charismatic smile for them. He looks at them brightly as if he were having the time of his life, but he wished you could see the absence glimmer in his eyes.

When the girls leave, the male turns to you, oblivious to the awkward haze reflecting in your eyes. “I mean…that doesn’t sound too bad, you know?” Minho smirks, bringing his hand to your chin, tiling your head ever so slightly.

You gently take his hand, pushing it away once again. You give him a sweet smile, shaking your head, “Min, you wouldn’t want me as your girlfriend, trust me.”

Minho nearly scoffs at your statement; maybe it wasn’t obvious enough that he’s been trying to make you his girlfriend over the past years. However, he doesn’t feel like making an emotional scene with so many people within the vicinity, so he just shrugs your words off with a chuckle.

“I have a feeling you’re just going to play coy with me no matter what I say.” Minho sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets, “So…I’ll just ask something else. Do you want to have a celebratory dinner tonight? You and me?”

“A date?” you raise your eyebrow, smirking slightly.

“Whatever you want to think of it, y/n.” Minho responds coolly, shrugging.

You chuckle, offering him another sweet smile, “I’d love to Min, really. But I have work to finish for tomorrow.”

“I see.” Minho does his best to smile brightly, but you can see the faint cracks nonetheless, “Maybe next time then.”

“Yeah, next time.” you smile.

“Do you…have a ride home? Chan, Hyunjin and I have stuff to do for a bit…” Minho trails off, ripping his gaze away from yours.

You nod, gesturing outside, “Changbin’s driving Seungmin and me home. The others are still going out.”

“Alright, take care, y/n.” Minho playfully salutes with a wide grin, but the gloomy haze in his eyes is enough to tell you that he was disappointed.

And so were you.

As soon as Minho says goodbye and tell you to take care, he turns around to walk back to the other racers, another crowd of people flocking towards him. You sigh to yourself, looking for your group of friends.

Sorry, Minho.

That same evening, Chan got home at around 11:00-ish, surprised to see that your room was still illuminated by the lamp. He had gotten showered and changed, and you were still up. Curious, your brother gently went to your room, leaning against the doorframe, “You’re still up, sis?”

You turn your head to face him, chuckling softly, “This is the last company report I have to go through.” you answer, “They’re all due tomorrow.”

“Is that why you said no to Minho’s dinner date?” he chuckles, letting himself in and sitting on your bed.

You pout your lip, “Was that your idea?”

“No, it was 100% his.” Chan responds matter-of-factly, “He…wanted to talk to you about stuff.”

You look at your brother with a knowing look, “Chan, you know we’ve talked about this countless times. Stop encouraging him.”

Chan sighs, leaning back, “Y/n, I could be putting him down every time he wants to make a move, and he’d still go at it. You can’t tell a man who’s so in love to just…stop. It’s up to him when he wants to give up.”

You look down, fiddling with your fingers, “Is he really that serious?”

“Come here.”

You walk over to your bed and sit next to your brother. Chan looks at your warmly, but there is a sense of seriousness in his voice, “As your brother and Minho’s best friend, I’m going to tell you this. Minho has been dead-serious since your final year in college, y/n. He’s never been more serious, and you should know that of all people.”

You puff your cheeks out and let out a deep breath, “I do, Chan. I really do.” you look up at the pictures hanging on your wall, one of them being your graduation with Minho, “I’ve known for the longest time because I feel the same.”

“What’s stopping you then?” Chan asks, voice softer this time, “Minho loves you more than anyone, and I can tell that you love him in the same way.”

“I never accepted his feelings because I’m scared.”

“Of?”

You shake your head, smiling bitterly, “Maybe Minho did love me the most when we were in college. But that was when we were both just foolish young adults trying to survive higher education. Minho’s a big thing now, Chan. He’s a professional, famous racer just like you and Hyunjin. Would Minho still stick with someone like me? Would he still want me of all people with his prestigious status?”

“Are you implying that he’d lose interest in you just because he’s famous?” Chan raises an eyebrow.

“Maybe.” you admit, “Minho can literally have any woman he desires with the snap of his finger. I’m just…me.”

“And that’s the woman he desires most.” Chan says plainly, a small smirk spreading across his lips, “I don’t want to force you into anything because this is about your heart and feelings, sis, but think about it, ok?”

Your brother ruffles your hair and stands up, “And for the record, a number of celebrities and models have flirted with that idiot, but he still had you on his mind.”

“Get out, Chan.”

“I love you, sis!”

With a victorious snicker, your brother exits the room. You end up lying down on your bed, rummaging through your brain to process everything Chan had just said.

Meanwhile, Minho got back home in his shared house with Hyunjin and Felix. The youngest was still up, watching a drama on the TV when Minho and Hyunjin went in. They greeted each other with hugs and more congratulatory words. The two older males showered and joined Felix afterwards, Minho temporarily taking his mind off from thoughts on you.

That is, until Felix asked a certain question. “Did y/n have dinner with you?” he asks innocently.

With that, Minho purses his lips and shrugs, “Nope. She had work to finish.”

“Isn’t that like…the umpteenth time she’s declined any sort of exclusive ‘date’ with you?” Hyunjin frowns in concern.

Minho shrugs, assuring his friends with a small smile, “It’s fine guys, we’re cool.”

“Weird…” Felix hums, “Y/n’s always gushing on about Minho.”

“She gushes over everyone. Just yesterday, she was squealing over Seungmin’s newest song.” Hyunjin points out realistically.

Minho nods in agreement, “Y/n’s…just y/n. She’s really like that.”

“Have you given up on her?” Felix asks cautiously.

“No.” Minho answers, “But a part of me is telling me to just stop once and for all. It might be for the best.”

Hyunjin gasps, deciding to tease his friend, “The one and only Lee Minho can get everything and anything except for the girl he likes? Big oof.”

“Haha funny, Hyunjin.” Minho laughs softly, throwing a throw-pillow at the younger male.

Felix cuddles up to the eldest male, looking at him with honey-eyes, “Don’t worry, Min. You’ll win this, I can feel it.”

“He always wins.” Hyunjin adds, giving a rather enthusiastic and excited thumbs-up.

Minho chuckles, softly, leaning his head on Felix’s, “Let’s hope y/n isn’t my first loss.”

Approximately a week had gone by since the last race, and you and Minho were both busy with your own agendas. You had a hectic week in work as an influx of tasks had to be done in your department. Minho had mock-races with his friends for the next round of racing and had some press to do from time to time.

You messaged and texted - and perhaps called - each other every now and then, mostly to check up on how the other was doing, but conversations didn’t go beyond ten minutes. You watched his appearances on TV, half-happy and half-sad that he was surrounded by so many famous people.

He heard about your adventures - and misadventures - in the office from Jisung as you were co-workers. It made him extremely happy to know that you were doing fine despite the stress on your plate, but it also made hip upset that you didn’t tell him about these things. Not anymore, at least.

It was finally your day-off, so you were planning to spend your day at home. Chan had plans to meet with a few of his friends from his college, so you thought it was a “me day” kind of time. It did turn out like that as you binged on YouTube videos, cried over some drama on Netflix, and snacked on the expensive cookies your brother brought home the other day.

At around 5:30, you got a text from Minho.

Minho: Y/n, are you busy?

You: Not really, why?

Minho: I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me right now.

You: I don’t really mind. I did decline dinner a few days ago, so why not? What do you have in mind?

Minho: You’ll see ;)

You: Ok then :)

Minho: I’ll pick you up, get ready! I’ll be there in 10 minutes

With that, you nearly threw your phone across your room. Did you just say yes to Minho for the first time in centuries? Maybe that was an exaggeration, but it was your first time to say yes to a “date” with him; the last time was that one instance during your third year in college. Maybe Chan was right. Maybe there wasn’t anything to fear at this moment.

Whatever caused you to agree to Minho must have been intense because you were now dressed up and anxiously waiting for the said male to arrive. When he did, you nearly bolted out the door. Of course, you remained calm on the outside, refusing to break the composed image you had.

When you locked your front door, you were not expecting to be greeted by such a fine image. Minho was wearing his usual all-black attire - something he probably picked up from your brother - with his fiery red hair parted yet perfectly messy. Minho loved his race car a lot, but he did not like driving around for personal or everyday activities. So, he was leaning against his other car, a more sleek and chic black one. Arms crossed, the male smiles, “I’m surprised you agreed to this, y/n.”

You giggle, now standing in front of him, “Don’t get too cocky, Minho. This better be worth it.”

“Have I ever let you down?” he chuckles, opening the car door for you.

You look at him genuinely, the overflowing warmth in your eyes doing things to the male’s heart. “You know the answer to that, Min.” you chuckle before getting into the passenger’s seat.

Minho smiles to himself, shaking his head as he continues to find your little game amusing. Without wasting another second, he gets in the driver’s seat and drives away. “You are a safe driver outside the race track, aren’t you?” you tease.

Minho keeps his eyes on the road, but the twinkle in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed, “I learned from your brother, you know?”

“Chan’s driving is boring outside the race track.” you laugh, “He’s a super safe driver, though.”

Minho hums, smiling brightly, “Then so am I.”

“I swear, if you speed up unnecessarily or step on the brakes too abruptly, I’m jumping out of this car.” you continue to jest, poking his arm softly.

Minho’s muscle tenses up, but he makes sure you don’t notice the wild beating of his heart. “You should know that I’ll make sure to take care of you, y/n.” he smiles, tapping his fingers on the wheel.

“I know.” you hum, sinking further into the seat as a gentle smile splays across your lips, “I know.”

The rest of the ride is quiet as Minho concentrates on driving. You feel your nerves buzzing, but you’re glad the soft music playing through the radio drowns out the wild thumping of your heart. Minho hums along to the songs from time to time, his demeanor surprisingly calm compared to yours.

After a while, Minho drives up an uphill slope before reaching a flatter surface akin to a plateau. He parks the car there, smiling at you as he removes his seatbelt, “We’re here.”

You step out of the car as well, eyes scanning the area around you. Minho took you to a small hill overlooking the city horizon. Below the hill was a quaint garden, that trailed all the way up to where you were right now. The rose bushes lined the road that led to the highest point as if they were guiding visitors to that particular spot. A tree rested at the very top, offering shade for whoever came by.

You walk over to the front of the car, directly facing the skyline from where you stand. Your mouth hung open as you took in the view, wonder and awe evident in the hues of your eyes. Minho falls into step beside you, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Amazing, right?”

You nod, turning to him with curious eyes, “How’d you find this place?”

“Chan, Hyunjin and I used to go here when we’d stress about races.” Minho chuckles lightly, “We’d eat snacks, talk, listen to music and take naps here ‘til the sun went down.”

“Chan never said anything about that.” you laugh, shaking your head.

Minho smiles, “I go here alone at night as well. Mostly when I need to clear my head and all.”

You grin at your friend, eyes gentle as the breeze rustles your hair, “That sounds like such a Minho thing to do.”

“You know me too well.” Minho smiles back, reaching a hand up to fix the strands of hair splaying all over your face.

You avoid his gaze, gluing your eyes to the ground below. As soon as his fingers gingerly brush against the shell of your ear, your nerves buzz once more. When Minho suddenly cups your face, your heart nearly drops right then and there.

Minho is honestly surprised you haven’t pushed his hand away like you’d always do, so he wasn’t sure if he was doing something right…or terrifyingly wrong. But when he senses the subtle movement of your head melting into his touch, a rush of confidence fills his veins.

Moving his hand down to your jaw, then shoulders, down your arm in an agonizingly slow pace, and finally tangling your fingers with his, he leads you to the hood of his car, sitting down on it with you beside him.

“I brought you here because I wanted to talk to you.”

You hum, nodding gently as you feel your voice shrinking, “About?”

Minho plays with your fingers, but the gaze he throws in your direction is filled with a serious passion. “I don’t know if it’s been obvious for you, but I like you. I really, really like you.” he says directly, refusing to break the stare, “I’ve tried so many times to make it obvious or to make you see how much I wanted you but…”

Your heart breaks at the confused and lost look that flickers in his eyes. It takes Minho a second or two to piece his thoughts and words together, and when he finally does, he offers a slightly more bitter smile, “…but I don’t think I could get my message across. Or maybe I have, but it just really won’t work.”

“Minho…”

“So please, y/n, tell me.” Minho looks at you, his expression more pleading now, “Please tell me once and for all - no coy jokes or ambiguous words - if you really don’t want this. I’ll respect your decision and feelings and stop chasing after you. I’ll draw that boundary and stay your best friend if that’s what you really want.”

“But please,” Minho offers another smaller smile, “you have to tell me now before I break myself from trying too much.”

“Minho, it’s not like that.” you look down at your intertwined fingers, “It’s just…do you really want me of all people? Do you really want to like me? Do you want to waste your feelings and time on me?”

“Waste?” Minho can’t believe what he’s hearing, leaning closer as his other hand cups your cheek, “Y/n, why would you think or say that?”

“A winner like you shouldn’t be with someone like…me.” you confess.

“And why is that?” Minho asks in confusion, truly baffled by the fact that you think so lowly of yourself.

You give him a gentle smile, eyes radiating a warmth like no other. “I like you, Minho. Trust me, I really do, ever since we were sharing classes and whatnot. I had a small wish that you’d feel the same, and whenever you flirted with me, small sparks would always give me hope that my wish would come true. Until you became this amazing racer whom the world seemed to love so much. I’m afraid, Minho.”

Minho shakes his head, “Y/n, it doesn’t matter what I am or what the world thinks I am. Why would that scare you?”

“You’ve always been the popular kid who had everything. At first, I thought that didn’t matter because you were - and are - a very genuine person. But I couldn’t stop thinking that as you grew in popularity with all this racing, would it still be me? Like I told my brother, we were just young adults trying to get through college.”

You admit your insecurities with a nervous smile, “You’re up there now, Min. A professional, famous racer. Would you still want me of all people? You’re in a pretty high status now, and I’m just the best friend who works in a company’s financial department and finds time to support from the side.”

“So what?” Minho asks rather sternly, his eyebrows raised, “You think I really care about all that?”

“Someone like you can just snap a finger or say a name and you’d literally have any woman by your side.” you say, tone almost too bitter for Minho’s liking, “Chan keeps telling me that it’s always me, I’m always on your mind. But that can all change when you meet someone much more your speed, Min. That’s why I never responded to your advances.”

Your words sink in, and Minho still can’t comprehend how you’d think that way. Not when he’s had his eyes on you from start to finish. Only you. Seeing your usually cheerful exterior crumbling away with the wind breaks his heart, and he wants nothing but to console and assure you that he’d pick you in a heartbeat.

He wants you to believe him.

“Y/n, look at me.” he whispers, tenderly placing a finger on your chin to make you look at him, “You guys would always tease me for winning at life…for having everything anyone has ever wanted. But the truth is, I don’t. I’m happy for the success, but it’s nothing if I don’t have you. I feel empty every time I win a race and see you walking away from me. I talk with so many people on a daily basis, but none of them make me as happy as you do.”

Minho sees the crystal-like tears forming in your eyes, so he offers you a gentle smile, cupping your face with both his hands, “Forget that I said I liked you. I don’t.” he gets up from the car hood, now standing as he pulls you up on your feet as well, “I love you. I love you more than anyone, and I’ve never been more serious in my life when I say this.”

By now, the tears have cascaded down your cheeks, staining your skin with wet marks. You breathe out, puffing your cheeks at the male’s words. “I love you too, Min. I do, I do, I do. I just don’t want to end up on the losing side when the day comes that you find someone better.”

“That’s not happening.” Minho says boldly, his voice full of confidence, “You’re already the best, and no one can compare to you. You hear me? You are the best of the best. I don’t want anyone but you. You’ve been my goal and my star from the start, y/n.”

You’re much too overwhelmed to respond, allowing the tears to flow freely. Minho lightly chuckles at your flustered state, using his thumb to wipe the tears away. “I love you, y/n.” he whispers, leaning his forehead against yours.

You take a deep breath, composing yourself from all the crying. Finally, you smile back, laughing at your self before nodding a few times, “I love you too, Min. I really do.”

The sun has completely set, darkness painting the night sky as stars glimmer across. The moon shines above the two of you as another cool breeze kisses your skin. Minho presses a chaste kiss on your lips and nose, circling his arms around your waist as he steps back to sit on the hood of his car with you between his legs. You see galaxies in his eyes as he whispers, “It will always be you, y/n. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Ok.” you smile gently, brushing your nose against his before you bury your face against the crook of his neck, giggling softly.

The second round of the race began and went by in a flash, the usual shenanigans taking place. The usual screams, cheers, and curses from the crowd filled the atmosphere as the last lap went by. Last round, Minho won, but this round, Chan won by a split second.

The racers all made it to the finish line, getting out of their cars to wave at the crowd and congratulate each other. Minho, Hyunjin, and Chan rough-housed as usual, earning a few laughter from you and your friends.

Afterwards, Hyunjin went over to Seungmin and Jeongin, taking advantage of the fact that his fanclub wasn’t following him. The other racers were being interviewed by reporters, so you squiggled through to hug your brother. Chuckling, Chan ruffles your hair, “Your brother beat your boyfriend. You really happy about that?”

“I was actually rooting for Hyunjin.” you tease, “Too bad.”

Chan grins, pinching your cheek, “Ok, you’re not getting any cake if I bring any home tonight.”

“I’m kidding!” you laugh, slapping his arm, “Congratulations, dear brother!”

The male smirks before breaking into a dorkier chuckle, “Thanks sis.”

After a little more chatter, Chan tells you that Minho was most probably in his designated garage for the tournament, checking on his car. Telling him you’d see him at home later, Chan teases that you’d probably end up in Minho’s house tonight. With one more wave, you excuse yourself and head to Minho’s garage.

You aren’t surprised to see that the media and some fans are already there. Some reporters are interviewing him, but after a few more minutes, they finish and begin to leave the area. As soon as the garage is empty with just you and Minho left, you quietly sneak up on the male who was now admiring his car. You surprise him with a hug from behind, giggling when Minho slightly jolts in surprise.

You both end up laughing at his reaction, swaying from side to side. Minho then turns around so he can face you, holding you close. “Did you congratulate Chan first?” he asks with a smile.

You nod, “Yup! And now I’m here to congratulate you.”

“Thanks babe.” Minho chuckles, tapping your nose, “Any plans tonight?”

“Well, if you have no plans, I’ll just go with Chan.” you reply, shrugging. “I think my brother’s going home early today.”

Minho smirks, fingers dancing along the curve of your waist, “I didn’t win this round, but you still kind of owe me a date because you declined my invitation back when I did win.”

You hum, tilting your head innocently, “What did you have in mind, then? Fancy restaurants aren’t exactly my thing, you know?”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Minho says, “How about…we drop by our favorite cafe? The one from when we were staying up late for finals.”

“Sounds great.” you nod in approval.

“But first…” Minho’s voice trails off, but the mischievous speck in his eyes tells you everything else.

You laugh softly when Minho carefully guides you to his car, lifting you so that you were now sitting on the hood. He accommodates himself between your legs with a chuckle. Not a moment later, his lips are on yours, kissing you deeply. You hum at the sensation, dragging your hands from him shoulders to his chest before fumbling with the zipper of his racing suit. You zip it down, revealing the black shirt underneath.

The male decides to tease a little, pulling away from the kiss just to snicker, “Were you hoping to see some skin there, hmm? Y/n?” he winks, “Nice try.”

You playfully scoff, mirroring his cheeky smirk, “Doesn’t matter.”

You tug at the neckline of his shirt, pulling him closer as your fingers rake through his fiery hair. Minho doesn’t hesitate to latch his lips onto the slope of your neck, peppering the skin with soft kisses and feather-light nibbles.

He pulls away again to look into your eyes, erupting into a giddy grin as he locks his gaze with yours. You giggle, dragging your finger along the bridge of his nose. “If anyone’s the winner here, it’s me. I’m the biggest winner, not you.” you chuckle.

“Why?” Minho goes along, his smile sweet yet playful.

“Because you chose me.” you hum contentedly, snaking your arms around his neck, “Lee Minho chose me, and I couldn’t be happier.”

Minho chuckles airily, shaking his head, “My biggest achievement isn’t my good grades or rocketing career. It’s you, y/n. Having and loving you is my biggest achievement, so who’s the real winner now?”

“Shut up.”

“Gladly.”

With that, Minho presses a deeper kiss to your lips. One arm wraps around your waist as the other one rests at the back of your neck, tilting and angling your head for more access. Your breaths mingle with each other, becoming one just as your lips mold together in perfection, hearts beating in unison.

Minho was always winning in life, and right now, he could truly agree to that statement.

To Minho, you were his biggest goal. Nothing mattered if he didn’t have you. Through the ups and downs, you were there. You cared for him like a genuine friend. You truly were the best thing that happened to him.

So in the end, Minho certainly was the biggest winner because he had you.

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somuchnonsense · 4 years

Text

October Drabbles 21-25

More drabbles

21. Late Night (post-canon Wangxian fluff, mildly NSFW)

It’s past the time that Lan Wangji should be asleep—and he was, actually, until Wei Wuxian crawled into bed with him. Often, Wei Wuxian will just curl up beside him, or perhaps wrap his arms around Lan Wangji and tangle their legs together, and then go quietly to sleep. Tonight, though, he woke Lan Wangji up with kisses on his neck turning into soft nips to his collarbone, pulling his clothing aside to reach further down.

“Go to sleep,” Lan Wangji murmurs, half awake, a soft rumble under Wei Wuxian’s mouth on his chest.

“I will.” Wei Wuxian’s lips flutter against his skin and Lan Wangji shivers. “After.”

Wei Wuxian continues to move downward, kissing a meandering path across Lan Wangji’s stomach. Lan Wangji reaches down, half thinking about pushing him away or pulling him up to settle beside him, but in the end, he only rests his hand on Wei Wuxian’s head, fingers sliding into his hair. “Is that a yes?” Wei Wuxian smugly murmurs into Lan Wangji’s lower stomach, tongue venturing out to trace a line between his muscles while he waits for an answer.

Lan Wangji hesitates for only the briefest of moments before answering, “Yes.”

22. Blushing (post-canon Wangxian fluff, more mildly NSFW)

It was so easy for Wei Wuxian to fluster Lan Wangji when they were young. All he had to do was make a nuisance of himself, say something blatantly flirty (despite not realizing himself that he was flirting), lean into Lan Wangji’s personal space, and he’d be rewarded with subtle hints of panic, yelling, red ears and, if he was really successful, a blush spreading pink and pretty across Lan Wangji’s cheeks.

Since his death and return, though, the tables have turned and it’s Wei Wuxian who finds himself flustered more often than not, all his shameless behavior backfiring on him. Even now, when he understands that flirting with Lan Wangji will never turn him off, Wei Wuxian can’t seem to find a way to tease that doesn’t end in him blushing, usually with Lan Wangji’s lips on his or in other more interesting places. Lan Wangji has become very good at shutting him up, sometimes making an absolute mess of him in the process and sometimes only making Wei Wuxian desperately wish he would, holding tight to his wrists or pinning him down so he can’t get what he wants until Lan Wangji says he can.

And worse still, sometimes when he flirts obnoxiously, Lan Wangji will turn and just give him this look, not quelling, not threatening, not even promising, but just so fond, so openly, unabashedly in love that Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what to with it. He loves Lan Wangji just as much, but it’s still a shock sometimes that anyone could love him so deeply and unshakably. It brings heat to his cheeks, but more so a warmth to his heart, and a feeling that it doesn’t matter if he can’t tease Lan Wangji anymore; all that matters is this.

23. Poetry (modern AU Wangxian fluff, feat. songwriter LWJ)

Lan Zhan writes a lot of songs for other people, working hard on the kind of poetic lyrics and dramatic orchestral music he loves, and which he’s managed to make a name for himself with. He’s only written one song for himself, though, and not so much for himself as for Wei Ying. It’s one of the first songs he ever wrote, when he was an idiot teenager in love wondering if he’d ever fulfill his dreams of being a songwriter, or of having Wei Ying by his side, not just as an annoying classmate and maybe friend, but as someone who knew how Lan Zhan felt and loved him back.

There’s a part of Lan Zhan that always cringes when he hears Wangxian, which (mercifully) exists only as a demo recording sung by him. What was he thinking with that title, or those painfully unsubtle lyrics? But mostly it makes him smile at how quickly and helplessly he fell in love with Wei Ying, even before he particularly liked him, and how he’s only fallen more in love with the passage of time. It also makes him smile because there’s so much hope, not explicitly in the lyrics, but in the feeling of the song, translated from how he felt when he wrote it—and he knows now that he was right to hope.

“I still can’t believe you wrote me a love song when I thought you hated me,” Wei Ying says once when he convinces Lan Zhan to play the demo again. “A sappy as fuck love song.”

“I never hated you,” Lan Zhan responds, a fond smile playing at his lips at the memory of when he tried to convince himself that he did. “And I know perfectly well that you love this song.”

Wei Ying grins and gives him a kiss. “I do love this song, and I love you.”

24. Spicy (unspecified Wangxian fluff)

Wei Wuxian finds it impossibly cute when Lan Wangji tries to eat spicy things for him, especially dishes he cooked which no one in their right mind would try to eat. (He thinks they’re good, but he’s aware that other people are weak and wrong—uh, have different opinions.) It’s not that he wants Lan Wangji to suffer, but it’s sweet that he loves Wei Wuxian enough to try, and it’s simultaneously adorable and hilarious how he tries to hide the effects as his cheeks flush and he starts to sweat and he blinks furiously, his eyes watering and his lips pressed tightly together to hold back a cough.

On the other hand, Wei Wuxian loves Lan Wangji and wants him to be happy always, and that’s why one night when he’s cooking for the two of them, he makes a sincere effort to make the most bland and inoffensive food he can manage. It looks so pale and dull and his hands itch to douse it in pepper, but he restrains himself, setting the dishes on the table as is and calling Lan Wangji in.

He can see the moment Lan Wangji notices, his brow furrowing ever-so-slightly as he scans the table and then looks up at Wei Wuxian, his expression midway between confused and affectionate. “Well, go on. Eat!” Wei Wuxian prods.

It’s the most boring meal Wei Wuxian has ever eaten in his life (when he had a choice, anyway), but it’s worth it for the way Lan Wangji actually seems to enjoy eating it instead of having to brace himself before each bite, and for the fond, appreciative looks he flashes Wei Wuxian in between. “It was very good,” he says at the end, entirely unprompted.

“I’m glad,” Wei Wuxian says, “but I’m not making any promises about it happening again soon.”

Lan Wangji smiles softly and shakes his head. “I would expect nothing less.”

25. Clothes (pre-canon WWX gen, feat. Jiang sibs & JFM)

For the first few years in Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian accepts whatever clothes are provided to him without complaint. He’s grateful to have a place to live and food to eat and clothes without any holes in them to wear. What those clothes look like isn’t important—and even if it was, he’s afraid to object to anything, afraid of being too greedy in case Jiang Fengmian decides it’s more trouble than it’s worth to keep him. Even when Uncle Jiang asks what he wants, he’s hesitant to really ask for it

Eventually, though, he starts to feel more comfortable, more secure in his place here. (If Madam Yu hasn’t managed to kick him out by now, he’s probably safe, right?) And one day, when a tailor comes to measure him and Jiang Cheng and Shijie for new clothes, Uncle Jiang asks, “What color robes would you like this time?”

“Black!” Wei Wuxian answers. He imagines he’ll look very grown up and manly in black, not to mention have an easier time sneaking around at night if the mood strikes him.

Belatedly, he worries that he’s being too demanding, but Uncle Jiang only smiles and says, “Black it is, then.”

“Only black?” Shijie asks. “You don’t think it’ll look nice with some color underneath?”

“I suppose.” Wei Wuxian considers, trying to picture himself in his new robes. “What color do you think, shijie?”

“Decide for yourself,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, but Shijie ignores him and says, “I think you’d look great in red.”

Wei Wuxian beams as though she’s given him high praise. “All right, then. Black and red for me.” He can’t wait to see how he looks in his new robes.

#mo dao zu shi #mdzs #cql #the untamed #mdzs fic #cql fanfic #the untamed fic #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #yunmeng trio #wangxian fic #mine #fic #flufftober

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does-this-look-logicality-to-you · 3 years

Note

3 and 17 for the fluffy prompts with prinxiety maybe? I love them too much for my own good lol -King anon from your other blog

hello king anon! i’m still not completely convinced you’re not kat, who loves prinxiety probably more than she loves me, but regardless i hope you like this! i’m sorry it’s been so long since you sent this, i

words: 1455 universe: human au characters: Virgil, Roman; mentions of Patton pairings: romantic prinxiety; mentions of platonic moxiety warnings: kissing, otherwise nothing prompts: “i’m here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses.” and “a fairytale with a happy ending always brings a smile to my face.”

“Virgil. Virgil, it’s time to wake up.”

Virgil rolled over, covering his head with a pillow. “Gimme ten more minutes, Patt. It’s the weekend.”

“Who said anything about Patt?” Virgil took the pillow off his head and sat up. Sitting there beside him was no other than Roman, wearing a wide grin.

“Bah! Roman!” Virgil threw his pillow at him, alarmed. “Nobody’s allowed to see me without my eyeshadow!”

Roman caught the pillow easily. “I think you look absolutely lovely without it.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t.” He got out of bed, rubbing his eyes.

Roman pointed at the sweatshirt Virgil had on. “Oh, that’s where my favorite hoodie went!”

Virgil felt his face go red. He’d taken it from Roman’s apartment a few months ago, and had been using it as a pajama shirt ever since. It was comfortable, and it smelled like him. “Sorry…”

“No, it’s fine! You can keep it.”

“But it’s your favorite.”

“I can always get a new one. Besides, it looks good on you.”

“Whatever. Can you let me change, please?”

“Go ahead.”

“I mean alone.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

“Roman, I swear to God.”

“Okay, okay! I’m going! Sheesh, you’re so mean!” Roman pouted, but Virgil just rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Sorry, darling, it’s my job.”

“Just go.”

“Fine.” Roman stood up dramatically, making Virgil snicker, and left the room.

Alone at last, Virgil started getting ready. He slipped out of his pajamas and headed toward his dresser, taking out his favorite t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. He grabbed his usual black-and-purple hoodie before heading into his and Patton’s shared bathroom. Falling into his daily routine, Virgil turned on the faucet to heat the water as he ran a comb through his hair. When the water was hot, he doused a washcloth and washed his face, then dried it with the towel that hung on his side. He decided to go for a simple makeup look today, complete with his signature black eyeshadow on the lower lid. Satisfied, he ran his hand through his hair a few times before leaving the bathroom and heading into the kitchen.

Roman was waiting for him there, leaning against the counter and sipping a cup of coffee. He had already poured Virgil his own mug. Upon taking a sip, he saw that Roman had prepared it exactly how he liked it, with the perfect amount of milk and sugar. He sat on the counter next to his boyfriend. “Okay, Princey, this time you’re off the hook.”

“Was I ever on the hook?”

“I’d say breaking into my house while I’m asleep definitely puts you on the hook.”

“Patton gave me the spare key months ago!”

“Yeah, but you at least could have waited until I was awake.”

“I couldn’t wait that long.”

“Why are you even here?”

“I’m here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. Why couldn’t you have at least waited for a more reasonable time?” He used the phrase “reasonable time” loosely, as he normally woke up around noon on the weekends.

“Because I missed you, of course.”

“Roman, I saw you yesterday.”

“Yes, but it had been so long since then!”

Virgil shook his head, finishing off his coffee. “My God, you’re such a drama queen.”

“I won’t deny it. Now, may I have my hugs and kisses, please?” He turned to look at Virgil with his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes.

He feigned exasperation. “Okay, fine.”

Roman pumped his fist in victory

“You didn’t need the puppy-dog eyes, though,” Virgil told him. “Patton’s the only one who can make that work.”

“Oh, you love it.”

“Whatever. C’mon, follow me.” He hopped off the counter, put his mug down by the sink, and headed over to the living room, motioning for Roman to follow. As the other came over to him, Virgil pulled a thick blanket from a trunk by the couch. When Roman reached him, he patted the cushion beside him. His boyfriend beamed and sat next to him, cuddling up to him. Virgil grabbed the remote from the arm of the couch before draping the blanket over them. “What do you wanna watch?”

“I think you know my answer.”

“Yeah, I think I do. Just making sure.” He switched the TV to Disney+, and Roman cheered. “Which movie?”

“Princess and the Frog, of course! I know that’s your favorite.”

“My favorite’s Nightmare Before Christmas, dumbass.”

“It isn’t technically a Disney movie. It was originally released by Touchstone Pictures, because Disney didn’t think it’d do well, and they only bought it out once it succeeded. Besides, we aren’t going to watch a Christmas movie in the middle of February.”

“It’s March. Besides, it’s a Halloween movie!”

“No, it isn’t. It has ‘Christmas’ in the name!”

“So?”

“So it’s a Christmas movie!”

“No the Hell it is not!”

“Prove it!”

“Where does Jack Skellington live?”

“Halloweentown, but-”

“There you go.”

“That isn’t nearly enough proof.”

“Oh yeah?” Virgil whipped his phone out of his pocket. “Let’s settle this.�� He opened Google and typed the words “is nightmare before christmas a halloween movie”. “Ah-ha!” He began reading off the first result. “‘In 2017, director Selick definitively declared “it's a Halloween movie” during a Q&A at Colorado's Telluride Horror Show film festival, while two years later composer Danny Elfman told USA Today, “It's obviously about Christmas, but for me, it's a Halloween movie.”’ Boom. I win. Who’s the Disney buff now?”

“Fine, I’ll give you that. It still isn’t Disney, though.”

“Neither are Pixar movies.”

“Are we going to keep arguing about this, or are we going to watch Princess and the Frog?”

Virgil laughed, giving a sigh of mock-indignation. Roman had been right before; he did love Princess and the Frog, often claiming it to be where Disney reached its peak. “Fine.” He opened the “search” tab and typed in simply “the princ”. As he’d expected, the movie they’d been looking for was one of the first results. He clicked on it and clicked play, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and pulling the blanket tighter around them.

The two of them hardly let go of one another for the entire movie. They entertained themselves by making commentary poking fun at the plot and characters— all in good fun, of course. During the more stressful and nerve-wracking scenes, Roman distracted him by peppering his face with kisses. In contrast, when the more romantic scenes came on, the two of them held one another close as if their lives depended on it. It was nice, spending time together in a casual setting like this.

The movie soon reached the end. “A fairytale with a happy ending always brings a smile to my face,” Roman said happily as they watched the montage of Tiana and Naveen build their new lives set to Tiana’s interpretation of “Down In New Orleans”.

“Too bad most fairytales don’t have happy endings, and most of the ones that do were changed to be more suitable for kids.”

Roman gently elbowed him in the ribs. “Oh, don’t ruin this for me.”

“That’s kinda my job. Ruining things, I mean.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.”

“I’m not. That’s your department.”

He gasped in mock-offense. “Excuse you! I am not silly! Dramatic, yes, but never silly.”

“Whatever you say,” Virgil replied, giving him a smirk.

“Oh, you stop that!” Roman took his boyfriend by the front of his shirt and kissed him firmly, softening it when Virgil returned it and moved his hand up to tangle it in the other’s hair. Roman started to move into his lap, only to be shoved off.

Virgil broke the kiss. “Not a chance,” he said, gesturing to his legs. “There’s no way these tiny thighs can handle your weight.”

Roman just shook his head and kissed him again, this time pulling Virgil onto his own lap. “That’s better,” he mumbled into the kiss.

When they finally pulled away, Roman reached for the remote. “Do you want to watch another movie?”

“Only if it’s Nightmare Before Christmas.”

“We already discussed this, My Chemical Romantic Interest. That’s a Halloween movie.”

“My Chemical Romantic Interest?”

“What?”

“That’s the dumbest nickname so far. And anyway, time is a social construct. We don’t have to wait until October to watch a Halloween movie, especially not when it’s the best Halloween movie out of all of them.”

“Hmm... you have a point. Fine, I guess I can’t argue with you. So, are we gonna watch Nightmare Before Christmas?”

“We are.”

“Good answer.” He pulled up the movie and, snuggling close to his boyfriend, watched the movie in a comfortable silence.

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darecruit · 3 years

Note

Oooh! Shelby and the Ghoul-Friend, haha, I cannot WAIT to read it. Do post soon! Just by the name of it, I could see her pulling some sort of "funny" (to a twelve year old) prank gone wrong, destroying something, maybe, lighting a trashcan literally on fire? (Or would she be too young to do that? But it IS the 80s(?) lol, I hear kids were crazy then)

Ha! I like the idea of the trashcan set on fire. And yes, it is the 80s. Parents were more lax in terms of letting their kids run off and do....but more strict if/when they find out just what those kids were up to in their absence!

Below is everything I have for the Ghoul-friend story. Enjoy! And any ideas you may have, I'm all ears!

Shelby and the Ghoul-friend

Summary: Rachel finds a picture of the original Corcoran kids from a Halloween long ago. Of course the girl is curious as to why her mother looks downright irate, and the rest of the family is all too happy to tell the story—despite Shelby’s best efforts to keep a certain ghost rising from the grave!

Sarah Corcoran peeked her head down the hallway to the bathroom to check on her niece; the girl had been in there longer than normal and Sarah was starting to worry.

“Rachel?” Sarah called out as she came to the bathroom and realized the girl wasn’t inside. Where could she be? she wondered.

Sarah continued down the hall to the only open door—Jack’s office. She peeked her head inside and saw Rachel over by her husband’s desk.

“Hey, what are you doing, kiddo?” she asked. Strictly speaking, the children weren’t allowed in the office without permission. Jack worked from home a lot of times and he didn’t want any of his projects accidentally damaged. Sarah knew Rachel hadn’t touched anything she shouldn’t, but she was still curious to know why the girl had wandered in.

Rachel gasped and spun around suddenly, clutching the picture frame to her chest. Blushing at being caught, the girl lowered her eyes briefly before meeting her aunt’s questioning stare.

“I was just looking at this photo of Mom and Uncle Jack and Ben and Aunt LuLu and—is that you? You look so different!” Rachel said, holding the frame out for her aunt to see.

Sarah smiled and stepped forward, her hand outstretched. She took the frame from her niece and stared down at the photo inside. It was a picture of the four Corcoran kids and Sarah dressed up in their Halloween costumes the first year that Jack and Sarah were dating. Jack, Ben, Lauren, and Sarah all had big smiles on their faces while Shelby stood a step away from everyone and had a petulant scowl on hers.

“That is me. This was on your mom’s twelfth birthday. It was the first time Uncle Jack brought me home to meet his family—well, Shelby and his parents. I had met Ben and Lauren before that,” Sarah said, smiling at the memory. That was a day she would never forget.

“Why does Mom look so angry?” Rachel asked.

“She wasn’t happy about meeting me,” Sarah answered.

“Why not?” Rachel asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Why don’t we go back and join the others so everyone can hear the story?” Sarah suggested, wrapping an arm around the small teen. Rachel smiled and nodded and the two made their way out, Sarah carrying the photo with her.

“Hey! There you both are!” Jack cried out in relief. “We were just about to send out a search party for you! What took you so long?”

“Rachel found this picture of our first Halloween together, when Shelby turned twelve. She was asking why Shelby looked so upset in the photo,” Sarah explained to the group. The adults broke out into collective laughter—all except Shelby, who turned bright red.

“Lemme see!” Ben leaped out of his chair in excitement. “Man, I haven’t seen this in ages. I still can’t believe what Shelby said to you about your costume, Sarah!”

“What’d she say?” Rachel questioned.

“Nothing, it was nothing!” Shelby spoke up before her brothers could answer. “Sarah doesn’t remember either, do you, Sarah?”

Sarah met Shelby’s gaze and saw the pleading in the younger woman’s eyes. Her own eyes sparkled with mirth and she smirked at her sister-in-law. “I remember exactly what you said to me, Shelby. That was quite an introduction you gave me,” she laughed.

Shelby groaned and felt her face flush once again. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. That was such a long time ago and Shelby had been a young, dumb kid. It was a confusing time for the girl, and Shelby hadn’t handled meeting her big brother’s girlfriend well at all. In fact, that night had been a disaster. Did her family really need to bring it up and share the story with Rachel?

“Oh Shelby, that wasn’t your best birthday, was it? Poor kid,” John chuckled as he looked at the photo.

“What? No! Guys!” Shelby jumped in, glaring at each of her siblings in turn. “Rachel, it’s a really boring story. What do you say you and I head to the mall and go shopping?”

“You can’t bribe her with shopping!” Jack yelled. “Besides, we’re having family time right now. Shame, Shelby!”

“Well, it all started that morning when your grandfather and I went to wake Shelby,” Diane began. Rachel leaned forward in her chair and rested her elbows on the table.

Diane and John Corcoran crept into their youngest’s room early on Friday morning and stared down at the slumbering pre-teen. Twelve years ago today Diane had given birth to their beautiful little girl. And for twelve years, that girl had given them much to laugh about. She had given them much to be angry about as well. Most of all, their beautiful Shelby filled their hearts with more love than they ever thought possible.

Diane settled onto the edge of the bed and brushed back the hair from her daughter’s face. “Shelly Bean, rise and shine,” she whispered gently.

“Whattimesit?” Shelby murmured sleepily. She rolled over onto her back and rubbed at her eyes.

“It’s birthday time! Wake up, sleepyhead!” John grinned from ear to ear.

The girl’s eyes popped open and she sprang up as if doused with cold water. She caught the glimpse of blue wrapping paper behind her father’s back and couldn’t help her excited squeal.

“Can I open my present?” she asked.

“Present? Were we supposed to get you a present? Did you know that, Diane?” John teased his youngest.

“Daddy!” Shelby whined, holding out her hand expectantly.

John chuckled as he brought the present out from behind his back. “Oh, this present? How silly of me to forget! I suppose you can open it,” he said, handing the small box over.

“No, no, no,” Jack interrupted. “Skip this part. Let’s get to the good stuff!”

“You think you can tell it better then?” Diane said.

“I can,” Jack nodded, smiling wickedly. He turned to the expectant faces of the kids and began the story over.

Shelby ran down the stairs at the sound of her brother’s laughter. Jack was late and that wasn’t like him. She could hear her mother shuffling around in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner. She skidded to a halt just before the dining room, and found herself face-to-face with Jack. A huge smile lit up her face as she lunged forward and hugged him around the middle.

Shelby pulled back and finally got a good look at him, and her face fell. “What are you dressed as?” she asked reproachfully.

“I’m the main guy from Grease. Can’t you tell?” Jack asked, stepping back to hold his arms out. He turned once in a circle to let the girl get a good look at him; she was a whiz at everything musical and he wanted her seal of approval.

Shelby frowned as she gave Jack a once-over. He wore a black leather jacket over a plain white t-shirt, black jeans, and a pair of black, scuffed-up Chucks. His sandy-colored hair was slicked up in Danny Zuko’s signature style. Overall, he looked great. There was just one problem.

“You were supposed to dress up as Nicky Arnstein to match me, remember?” Shelby huffed. “You don’t even like Grease, why did you dress up as Danny?”

#asks #open arms #OA oneshots #oneshot #gen1 #first generation #Corcoran family

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prolestariwrites · 4 years

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Open For Me [5]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Vergil/Reader Tags: Explicit sexual content, First time, First love, Violence, Death, Implied dubcon, Implied drug-induced sex Rating: M Part: 5 of 5

Summary: Vergil's life has been difficult as far back as he can remember, until he meets a young woman who saves his life. Can she save it again when he learns the truth of who he is, and bring him back from a dark and dangerous fate? A five-part story of pre- and post-canon Vergil.

A/N: Thank you to everyone for reading and to my friends @wordborne and @solynacea for their feedback. Please enjoy the final part.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Be gentle with me, for my heart hides so many wounds that never bleed. —Alexandra Vasiliu

There is a man who sits on the bench in the park across the street from your house. That in itself is not terribly strange: the homeless often find refuge in the public space. And he certainly seems homeless, draped in dark clothes that are little more than rags, his posture drawn in as if to hide.

You wouldn't have noticed him at all if it wasn't for the feeling he gives you when you walk by. Something familiar, maybe his shoulders, maybe his hands. It isn't unease, but the opposite: a driving curiosity to find out who is underneath the fabric. You don't see anyone anymore, not really, not since Vergil had left. He had been the only person you ever trusted, and that had been a mistake.

So you don't dare to ask or to offer. You watch him from your window, as he sits day after day. No one even seems to see him there, not even a cop as he strolls by. You start to wonder if he's just a figment of your imagination, until you hear his voice.

You are at your door, keys in hand, checking the mailbox when you hear one word: "No."

Coldness douses your spine and you drop the envelopes on the ground. You are afraid to turn around, not of him, never of him, but afraid he's not really there. It has been so long since you heard that voice, more than two decades, but at once you are a girl of nineteen desperately in love with someone who does nothing but lie. Tears blur your vision as your mind pleads with your body to turn around and look. Just look.

Slowly your head turns. Someone had offered him a bottle of water, and rebuffed they are now moving on. The figure settles back into itself, and your hands are trembling as you stare, waiting for more. But he does not speak again.

A minute slips by, then another. Does he see you? Why is he here, on that bench, that fucking bench outside of your house? You had left the apartment as soon as you were able, moving into this house in the city, the top half of a duplex you bought when the owner died. How did he know, how did he find you? Did he find you, or is this the biggest cosmic joke of the universe? Because you never forgot him, never moved on, prayed for days and nights he would come back until the pain of losing him turned you into stone.

Your feet are moving and you are halfway across the street before you notice. A car blares its horn at you, jolting you back to reality, and you dart to the sidewalk. The figure hasn't moved, not even when you were nearly hit. It can't be him, he would have moved, he would have saved you.

You approach slowly until you are standing in front of him. You realize your purse is gone, dropped somewhere, but your keys are still in your hand, like a weapon. Your eyes dart to the side and you note there is no sword. You can still remember the diamond pattern of the hilt, could draw it in your sleep.

Drawing in a shaking breath, you feel your lip shaking. "Vergil?" you whisper.

There is no answer, not even a movement indicating he had heard you. You swallow painfully, still waiting. "Vergil, is that you?" you ask again, a bit louder this time.

Slowly he stands. You step back, shaking now, his height so familiar that you let out a soft sob. "Vergil?"

"Do you know where it is?"

Blinking rapidly, you shake your head. "What?"

"Do you know where it is?"

His voice is different. Maybe this isn't Vergil? It's harder, rougher, like broken glass.

What has happened to him? "Vergil, come with me. Let me… I live right over there." You reach out and tug on his sleeve. "Vergil, please? Let me help you."

You pull harder and grab his hand. With a gasp you feel it is cold: cold as ice, his skin like stone, and when you look down you must swallow against the sight of gray skin that is cracked and broken. You remember so vividly that night in the kitchen when his face and arms had healed from an attack; in the years following, you had turned this over again and again, realizing he had never once been sick or hurt, no cuts or colds, no flu, no headaches. Demon prince, he had said to you, and some part of you had started to believe it, impossible as it is.

He snatches the hand away and turns. He moves quickly down the street, so quickly that it doesn't register for a moment. "Vergil! Wait!" You take off after him, tears blurring your vision as you try to keep track of the dark fabric. At the next intersection, the light turns green, and he disappears.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

You almost ignore the knock on your front door, frowning at the clock. Nothing good ever came after 9:00, that's what your mother always used to say. But when it comes again, firm and insistent, you put your book aside and pull the blanket around your shoulders, cautiously opening the door with the chain still on.

At first you don't recognize him. You frown and take in the tall build, the angles on the handsome face, the dark coat. But when he shifts and you see the glint of his blue eyes and the silver color of his slicked-back hair—silver, not white or blond, he had scolded once—you let go a gasp. "Vergil?"

He doesn't answer, but he doesn't need to. Your fingers fly over the locks until you can swing the door open wide, your mouth open as you stare. It's him for sure, just older now, a bit more… tired? You remember the cold, gray stranger from years ago, but this person is more like the boy you loved in your youth. Something wells in your throat, still filled with disbelief. How long has it been? How many years?

"It's been a while," he murmurs, and the sound of his voice makes you shiver.

"A while," you echo.

"You remembered."

Shaking your head, you say, "Of course I remember you."

"Can I come in?"

You blink, nodding, and step aside. Vergil's eyes sweep through the room as you replace the locks, and you realize how little has changed since he last stepped foot inside your home. A new ottoman, a couple of throw pillows, but other than that it is the same. The only thing that has changed, in fact, is you.

Wiping your hands nervously on your jeans, you ask, "When did you…?"

You don't even know what you are asking, but Vergil still answers. "Two days ago. I had some business to take care of, with my brother."

Your hands clench at your sides, the ease in his voice making the hair on your neck stand on end. "Business with your brother?" you hiss. "You've been gone for years! You left me! And that was you on the bench, wasn't it? That was you, after all that time, you came and sat outside of my house just to go again! Why? Why are you doing this?"

It actually looks like that got through. Vergil blanches, just slightly, and without asking he sits on the couch. His back is straight and he unbuttons his coat, the air of formality only stoking your anger. You've seen him hurt, and sick, and nearly half dead, you've heard him moan and cry and laugh with tears in his eyes. And he wants to sit on your couch as if he's a visitor from the local church making a social call?

"Vergil," you snap, moving in front of him with arms folded. "Tell me the truth."

"The truth." It's his turn to echo you, and to your surprise he reaches up and takes your hand. The little bit of affection catches you off guard, and all you can do is watch his thumb stroke the back of your hand, and remember. Vergil, sitting up late at night, reading books yellow with age as you dozed next to him. Listening to him talk about the places you would visit together, trying to picture him as you could never see yourself. Running his hands through your hair as he talked of his plans, the spark in his eye so lovely that it helped you ignore the lies on the surface that left you so unsettled at times.

You try to tug your hand away gently, but he holds firm. "I owe you an explanation," he says.

The laugh that huffs out of your throat is quick and humorless. "You owe me more than that."

Vergil glances up, and you see there is something different. A part of him you haven't seen since you were barely adults, something that is warm, something you stopped associating with him. "You're right," he answers.

The confession, as small as it is, catches you by surprise. "Since when are you so self-aware?" you say before you can stop yourself.

But he only shakes his head. "This feels strange," Vergil murmurs. You frown as he continues to stroke the skin of your hand, but his expression is thoughtful. "I'm feeling things that… well, I'm feeling, anyway. And I needed to come and see you, that much was certain."

It is sweet to say, even though you don't trust him, not yet. "Where did you go?" you ask.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he replies, glancing away.

"Try me."

Clearing his throat, he asks, "Did you see on the news the story about Red Grave City?"

"Yes," you frown. "What about it?"

Vergil nods, easing back on the couch, and you sit next to him. He talks for a while, the most you've heard from him since you were young, and he goes on about legacies and power and all kinds of fantasy, leaving you enthralled without understanding why. He tells you about the sword he had lost, that belonged to his father—Yamato, you remember the name clearly, another detail he had shared you never really understood. There is hesitation on the next part, something he hides as he glosses over years spent "away", but the pain in his voice keeps you from asking more. He tells you about leaving his human self behind, of becoming a monster, only to be patched back together by his brother. Demon prince, that's what he had called himself, but could any of this be possible? He tells you of heading off to fight off Hell in order to save his son.

"Your son?" you interrupt.

Vergil nods. "It was unexpected."

That… stings. More than you're willing to admit, even to yourself. If he has a son, then that means… You shake your head, not ready to think about that. "You were right. I don't believe any of this."

He seems hurt by that, which catches you off guard. "I don't blame you," replies Vergil, although the cool timbre of his voice contradicts the very uncomfortable look on his face. "But I'm done with all that now. I tried to become something I'm not, and it didn't work. So now I'm going to try to just be…"

"Yourself?"

Vergil chuckles and meets your gaze. "I was going to say human. But I suppose myself is apt."

The corner of his mouth turns up in a smile, and against your better judgment, your heart softens. "I don't understand," you murmur. You reach up and stroke your fingertip against the side of his brow: something he always liked, and as always Vergil sinks just a bit, pressing against your touch.

"I know you don't." He hesitates, and you wonder: is he searching for the right words, or is he convincing himself they are true?

"What do you want?" you murmur.

He swallows, his eyes down. "Another chance? I keep asking for one from everyone." Finally his gaze lifts, and there is a warm sensation inside of you that swells because there is sincerity there.

"I'm older now," you say.

Vergil laughs. "So am I."

"I'm different," you clarify. "You broke my heart. You hurt me."

"I know."

Why is this so easy? It shouldn't be, not after so long, but he looks like the same boy who needed a place to stay on a cold night and felt so warm in your bed. "That was you on the bench, wasn't it?" you murmur.

He looks into your eyes and nods. "I don't know why. I came back and was dying. I needed to find someone, and I followed my instincts. I thought I was finding Yamato, but I found you."

You close your eyes and shake your head. "That night when you healed," you whisper, afraid of hurting him.

"I never wanted you to know," he says.

"Why?"

"It was too dangerous. Things wanted me dead."

The tone in his voice sends a shiver through you. But there is no lie in his eyes, not this time. "And now?"

"It's over, I suppose? I don't know. But… that part is over." Vergil swallows uncomfortably. "There is too much to say, I don't know how to explain it all."

"It's okay," you sigh. "We have time."

On instinct you reach up and press your palm to his face. The last time you did this, you were still barely children, and he had flinched away from your touch. But now he presses against your palm, sinking towards you, and Vergil wraps his arms around you to hold you closely. You press your cheek to his, feeling him tremble. He feels so strong and yet so vulnerable at the same time, and as you card your hand through his hair you wonder just what really happened to him.

You whisper his name and he turns to press his mouth on yours. It is unexpected, but when has Vergil ever not surprised you? Your lashes are wet as you kiss him back, the sensation so familiar it almost hurts. Your heart aches remembering the last kiss, the last touch, the last time you were together. It feels like a lifetime ago; it probably was.

He pulls you closer so you are practically draped over his lap. His hands slide up the back of your shirt, warm and firm and smooth. The last image you have of him as that figure on the street is fading like a dream as you press against his body. The kiss turns more passionate as one hand slips into your hair, and Vergil sighs as you open your lips to slide your tongue along his. The taste of him awakens the part of you that had gone cold and quiet when he left, and you cover his body with yours, needing to be close.

His heart is beating wildly when you push your hands under his shirt and your palm finds his chest. Vergil helps you remove his shirt, and then he pulls off yours. The look on his face is nothing but reverence, but you blush a bit, suddenly self-conscious. "I haven't…"

He looks up at you and nods. "About Nero… it's hard to explain, but I will. Just know I've never been unfaithful to you."

Your brows draw down slightly, wondering what that means. But he pulls you into another kiss, his hands roaming you now, and you decide to leave that until he can explain.

It takes no time for him to remove your bra, and then he turns to lay you back gently. Vergil was never a rough lover, but he could be hard, so the soft care makes this moment feel strange. His mouth presses to your neck, and he whispers how beautiful you are as they travel downward. Your own heart is fluttering by the time he kisses your breast, your eyes sliding closed when his lips tug on your nipple.

Again, he is not demanding, instead soft as he sucks on your flesh. He teases you with his teeth as your body melts with pleasure, his fingers caressing you tenderly. "Do you want to stop?" he asks, his voice strained as he presses his forehead to your chest.

"No, no, of course not," you laugh.

He kneels up and takes hold of the waistband of your leggings. "I love you," he says as he pulls the fabric down. "I never stopped."

You lift your hips and his hands travel back up your bare legs. "I didn't either," you reply.

It goes on like this, slow and quiet, his demanding touch now so tender, his searing kisses a sweet gentleness. He lights your core on fire with his touch, until you are moaning and reaching for him, gasping for more. "Please Vergil… I need you…"

"Open for me." Your eyes close and a tear rolls down your cheek as your thighs spread and he presses inside your body. It's been a long time since the last time you were together, and it's uncomfortable at first; but he uses just as much care now, his shallow thrusts making your back arch from the cushion.

You slide your hands on his chest, fingers searching his skin for any signs of the cracked and gray skin. But he is perfect and whole and solid, and once his hips are flush with yours you look up at him, eyes wide and searching.

He stares down at you almost in awe as he starts to move. You press your hand to his cheek again and he winces, and you see the pleasure and pain in his face. Your palm grows wet as he kisses your skin, and before long he is thrusting with a deep, steady pace that has you both moaning. You twist underneath him as the pleasure mounts, the anticipation building until it snaps inside and your body begins to pulse. Vergil groans, long and loud, and as your muscles tighten around him he spills inside of you. His seed is hot and thick as it fills you up, making you cry out as wave after wave of bliss has you holding to him tightly.

Vergil sinks against you, laying with his head on your chest, another thing from years ago that you remember well. How is it two decades pass and yet it feels like no time at all? You stroke his hair as he grows soft inside you, his hands clenching and releasing against your back as your breathing slows.

"I won't let you go again," he says.

"Okay," you reply. Vergil raises his head and you kiss his lips. "We can start over."

"I have so much to explain," he sighs.

You stroke his cheek. "No more secrets. I am ready to hear it all."

He nods and leans in for another kiss. As he moves over you, you remember the red pendant and how it had pressed against your chest your first night together. That Vergil had been just as strong, and just in need of help. But this time, you are stronger too.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc vergil #vergil sparda #vergil x reader #fan fiction #open for me #myfic

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