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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Prompt: if prompts are still open: virgil as an adventurer who keeps accidentally befriending the monsters he’s supposed to be fighting (aka the other sides)? have a wonderful day! (and don’t feel any pressure to do this at all, and if your inbox is meant to be closed absolutely delete this ask)

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic remus & deceit, some ptsd flashbacks but nothing super explicit

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic but Virgil’s definitely got some gay panic in there

Word Count: 8153

Virgil’s got a simple code when he’s not on a hunt. Don’t hurt whatever you don’t absolutely have to, and odds are, it won’t hurt you. Now and then there’s a bit of an, um, incident where that doesn’t quite work out as well as they’d hoped, but by and large they get by.

Or: 5 times Virgil helps a monster he was supposed to kill, and 1 time the monsters help him

He sighs as he walks outside, grabbing the pair of gloves from the rickety tray and tugging them over his weathered hands. The front garden isn’t nearly as overgrown as it was when he found this little cabin in the middle of nowhere, but it’s got a long way to go before he can walk through without tripping over at least one overgrown bramble.

There’s a very persistent mint plant that’s slowly and surely trying to choke the flowers. Virgil bends down and starts to toil in the dirt.

“Come on,” he mutters, because he’s allowed to talk to plants when no one else is listening, “let’s stop doing that, you don’t have to be literally everywhere…”

The mint doesn’t protest verbally, because it’s a plant and plants can’t talk, but Virgil would swear it tries to hold onto the dirt as he pulls it up, holding his hand under the roots to catch the dirt.

“Alright, come on out, then, let’s just…put you in here.”

There’s a plot of dirt in a crate resting at his knee. He pats the soil. Fresh enough. The mint plant looks almost contrite as he tucks it into the corner.

“Next time I go see the townspeople I’m sure you’ll make some tea-shop owner very happy.”

The rest of the garden goes similarly. By the end, he’s filled the crate almost halfway when his hand catches something sharp.

The blade gleams as it flashes through the air. The child screams. His eyes widen—

“No,” he grits out, flattening his hands into the dirt, “no, it’s…it’s okay. We’re okay. It’s…hhhh.”

As he exhales, his shoulders slump, head bowing almost to his chest. The sounds of blades swinging through the air fade as the breeze rustles the leaves surrounding the cabin. The faint smell of mint cleanses his nose of blood.

Virgil opens his eyes and carefully moves his hand away from the rose.

“When’d you get here,” he mutters, carefully lifting the leaves to examine the stem, “don’t remember seeing you.”

The thorns snag on the little pieces of dirt hanging from his gloves. He glances around. There aren’t any other roses nearby, not that he can see. And it’s probably not very good for it to be growing in the middle of this choked soil patch.

He stands and makes his way back for the sharper trowel.

Something hisses.

His grip on the trowel doesn’t waver but he turns his head casually to glance over his shoulder.

Something crouches in the garden, just barely visible over the crate. A tuft of hair, not dark enough to be a bear cub, not light enough to be a squirrel. His arm relaxes against his side, trowel snug against his thigh.

“Hello,” he calls, watching closely, “is someone there?”

He blinks in surprise when a cat pokes its head over the crate.

“Uh, hey, there,” he manages, “uh…what’re you doing all the way out here?”

In response, the cat leaps elegantly over the crate. It’s a slim thing, but not underweight. Its fur is bluish-gray, almost like a stormcloud. As Virgil watches, the cat sneezes and its fur turns a dappled brown.

Virgil sighs. “So you’re the mischievous sprite I’ve been told to get rid of.”

The neighboring village has tried several times to make him seek and destroy the sprite’s nest. Apparently, it’s been causing all sorts of problems. Books going missing, glasses breaking in the middle of the night, jars of preserves broken into. Now, that’s not really what Virgil calls a punishable offense, but the villagers were insistent that he find it and fight it. He’s done one of those things.

Well, technically, the sprite found him.

“There’s not much here that would interest you,” Virgil says, gesturing at the unkempt garden, “but if you want to tell me what you do want, then—hey!”

The sprite, of course, doesn’t wait for him to actually finish inviting it inside. Instead, the door creaks as the cat darts between his legs and vanishes.

“Be careful,” he warns, “there are sharp things.”

He pushes open the door to see the cat perched on a precariously high shelf, sniffing at the books. He sighs.

“I can get those down if you want, it might be easier than doing whatever the hell it is you’re doing now.”

The cat ignores him, pawing at the thick leather cover. He sighs and pulls off his gloves.

“Alright, just—wait a damn minute.”

Virgil grunts as he lifts the book of the shelf and carries it over to the table, opening it and waiting. The cat jumps up onto the table and sniffs at the pages. Its tongue laps at a word.

“You want more about that? Okay, let’s just—“

Yes, Virgil is talking to this sprite. He’s allowed to do that in his own home.

He turns the pages until the cat chirps.

“This? This what you want?”

The sprite stares at the page. It goes unnaturally still.

The hairs on the back of Virgil’s neck stand up.

Then it breaks; the cat shakes itself off and jumps down.

“That’s it? You done now?”

The cat’s tail twitches gracefully as it struts back to the door. Virgil rolls his eyes and follows it out.

“Well, I’m glad I could be of service,” he mutters as he closes the door.

Something rough touches his hand. He looks down. The sprite looks back up at him and licks his hand again.

“…you’re welcome.”

The cat sneezes, its fur changing back into the deep bluish-gray. Without another look, it takes off, leaping effortlessly over the crate and disappearing into the woods.

Well, stranger things have happened in Virgil’s life.

Shaking his head, he gets back to his garden. He glances at the rose before deciding that, eh, what the hell, it can stay another day. He finishes filling the mint crate and sets it near the front door, ready for his trip to the village tomorrow.

“Ah, thank you!” The tea shop owner beams as he hands it over. “I’m sure this’ll be plenty.”

“I’ve got more than enough, I promise.”

“Well, since that sprite disappeared, I won’t be running out nearly as often!”

Virgil blinks. “Huh?”

“Oh, the sprite you got rid of!” She smiles. “Thank you kindly for that, it was ever so pesky.”

Virgil just nods.

————————————

Virgil opens his eyes and doesn’t quite reach for the dagger he keeps in the nightstand but it’s close.

“There’s a dog in my bed,” he mutters, “standing on top of me, drooling on my face.”

The dog just barks. And changes color.

He sighs. “Are you the same one from last time? Was the book not enough for you?”

The dog barks again, jumping off the bed and trotting to the kitchen, its nail clicking on the floor. Virgil lets his eyes close for a second before getting up and following it.

“Alright, the book it—whoa.”

The dog is, um. Not a sprite.

A huge mastiff elemental sits in the middle of his kitchen. It looks up from when it was nosing at what remained of a chicken carcass and rumbles. Virgil raises his hands.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says lowly, “even though you did break into my house and wake me up. What do you want?”

The elemental turns and moves through the house, out toward the woods. Virgil stuffs his feet in his boots and follows, tucking a slingshot and his knife into his pockets as he goes. The elemental moves through the trees with an inhuman grace, the very edges of the leaves it passes smoldering. A thin tendril of smoke wafts past Virgil’s nose.

“She’s still inside!” The guard shouts as Virgil wrenches his arm away. “I have to go get her!”

“Sir, you’ll die!”

“She’s still—“

The top of the house crashes down as—

Virgil closes his eyes and brings his kerchief up to his nose. He breathes deeply. Freshly baked bread. Honeysuckle. The slightly tacky smell of leather oil. Breathe in, breathe out.

When he opens his eyes again, the elemental has paused, glancing back at him.

“I’m coming,” he says quickly, “I’m coming. Keep going.”

He shrugs the old ghosts off his shoulders and follows.

The elemental leads him to a clearing. Underneath a large, dead white tree, there’s a small den of moss. Virgil’s breath catches in his throat.

The villagers had sent him a warning about a curse in the area. Fires had been going out. It had been impossible to keep warmth in the houses over the long winter nights. They’d been seeing figures in the smoke, sightings of, well, a mastiff. They’d contacted him to try and get it to leave.

Well, the mastiff elemental is here, under the tree, looking back and forth between Virgil and something he can’t see, buried in the moss.

“Is there something you wanna show me,” he asks softly, coming a little further into the clearing, “in there?”

The elemental whines. He walks forward until he catches sight of a stone in the middle of the bed of moss. It’s cracked in two.

“Is this what you wanted to show me,” he calls, shifting into a crouch, “this stone?”

The elemental huffs, nudging his hand. It reaches past him and tries to pick up the stone in its mouth, only for it to drop. It puts its nose down and whines.

“…was this your favorite stone to play with?” The elemental butts its head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry it broke. How’d it happen?”

The elemental points its nose toward a jagged boulder in the corner of the clearing.

“Ah, I see.”

And you know what? Yeah, Virgil gets it. He’s dropped shit where he shouldn’t have dropped it before and it broke. What does it matter that this elemental is so upset over accidentally breaking its favorite toy that its warmth is so low the nearby villagers think it’s a curse?

“Hey,” Virgil murmurs, reaching out to cup the two halves of the rock in his hands, “it’s okay. This rock—good choice by the way, very good choice—it’s part of the Perse Mountains, right? So it’s susceptible to fire magic.”

He reaches into his slingshot bag and pulls out two small rocks. Using one on either side, he sandwiches the two halves of the broken rock together and holds it out to the elemental.

“Now breath on it.”

The elemental exhales carefully, bathing the rock in a steady stream of fire. Sure enough, in a few moments, thanks to Virgil holding it steady, the rock glows a soft yellow and reforges.

“That’s good.” He takes it carefully between the stones and rolls it around the moss, trying to cool it. “Okay. Try now.”

The elemental takes the rock gingerly between its teeth and yips.

Virgil chuckles. “I’m glad I could help.”

The elemental spins in a circle before turning back into the dog and licking Virgil’s cheek, barking excitedly.

“Okay, okay, you’re welcome, jeez.” He half-heartedly shoves the dog’s head away. “You’re getting slobber all over me!”

The dog pulls away and takes the rock into its mouth again, snuffling happily. Virgil shakes his head and gets up.

“If that’s all, then I’m gonna go home.” The dog licks his hand one more time. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

And if a fire is already burning when he gets back home, well, that’s just a surefire way to know there was never a curse for the villagers to worry about.

Get it? Surefire?

Shut up, he’s hilarious.

————————————

“Ah, Virgil!”

Virgil turns. The blacksmith waves at him from the market stalls. Dodging fruit carts and weaving his way through passers-by, he stops in front of the man and gestures to the new wares.

“Good season, Anbel?”

“Oh, the best!” Anbel gestures to the coin chest behind him. “You know how it is, goes in and out of season.”

Absentmindedly, Virgil rubs at the scars on his arms. “I know the feeling.”

“Anyways, I got that dagger you gave me to repair.”

Anbel reaches behind him and pulls the dagger out of a leather bag. He holds it up. The deep gouges in the blade are gone, the handle isn’t tarnished anymore, and it looks…good.

“Thank you, Anbel,” he says, reaching for it, “so how much?”

“No charge.”

“Come on.”

“No charge,” Anbel repeats, “not for you.”

Unbidden, a flush rises to his cheeks as he tucks the dagger into his belt. “Anbel…”

“Alright,” the blacksmith says, holding up his hands, “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

Virgil sighs. “What’d you do?”

“Why do you assume that I did something?”

Virgil just gives him a look.

“…alright but this time it wasn’t me.”

“Uh-huh.”

Anbel smacks his chest. “I’m serious, there’s something wrong in the woods outside of town.”

Virgil sobers, taking a step closer. “What is it?”

“Dunno. But my horses won’t go past a particular stretch of land and I need to be able to make the trip next moon.”

Virgil chews on his lip, thinking. “Did they run away or just refuse to go near?”

“Refused to go near.” Anbel shakes his head. “Don’t know what’s gotten into them. They’re good mares.”

“Have any others reported anything?”

“Cindi had trouble getting through too.”

“Where is it?”

“Just before the bend in the river. Near the trees.”

Virgil sighs. “I’ll have a look.”

That’s how he finds himself wandering down the main road on the next cloudy day. He glances around to make sure there aren’t any other villagers nearby before he starts looking around. There’s a small grove of trees near the riverbank, a mound of rocks next to the bend in the road, and a rapid system rushing just out of sight.

Maybe the horses were scared of the rapids? They’ve been known to spook before. But no, Anbel makes this trip every season. If the horses were going to spook at the rapids, they’ve done it before.

Virgil frowns, coming to a stop in the middle of the grass between the road and the river. What could they’ve been startled by? There’s not enough space to hide anything here. The rocks are on the wrong side of the road. The river isn’t close or loud. And the trees aren’t close enough together to hide anything between them.

…between them.

Virgil holds very, very still.

Out of the corner of his eye, one of the trunks shifts.

He doesn’t move quickly, doesn’t draw his dagger, just lowers his eyes to the grass and turns, facing the trees, and takes a step backward. Then another. Then another. When he’s over ten yards away, he looks up.

“I mean you no harm,” he calls, “I have no wish to interfere. I was told that there was something that scared a few horses and wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

The breeze rustles through the leaves.

“I am happy to leave you here,” he continues, risking a step closer, “but I know that…this is probably not where you’d like to be. This isn’t an especially damp forest.”

The trunk shifts again.

“If there’s something I can do to help—“ he risks another step— “I’d be happy to.”

There.

The trunk shifts and seems to shrink inside as a jaculi unwinds itself from around its base. It blinks lazily at him with amber eyes, golden scales rippling in the faint light from the cloudy sky.

“Hello,” Virgil waves, “can I—will you let me come closer?”

The jaculi hisses and lays its head near the ground.

“Thank you.” Virgil walks forward carefully, stopping a few feet away and crouching down. “Now, what brings you here? You look like you’re an awful long way from home.”

The jaculi hisses again, its head swiveling toward the river. Virgil looks. Across the bank, he can see a much denser forest and what looks like a storm brewing.

“You’ll be hurt,” he realizes, “if you try and stay here…”

The jaculi coils tighter around the tree trunk.

“How’d you get over here,” Virgil mutters, “you’d’ve needed to swim across…and that also won’t go well for you.”

There’s a soft rustling as the jaculi buries its tail in a pile of leaves near the base of the tree. Virgil glances over to see it rubbing its face halfheartedly against the bark.

His eyes widen.

About a month ago there had been a terrible storm. His little cabin had barely held together. He’d heard reports from the tavern owner that it’d blown one of the old trees right over.

“That’s how you got across,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, “you climbed across the tree. And now it’s gone and you’re stuck.”

The jaculi blinks remorsefully at him.

“Okay,” Virgil mutters, “okay, we can…we can figure this out.”

They’ll have to do it at night. There’s no way the jaculi will feel safe enough to move while it’s still light out. There’s an old barn that never finished construction just over the ridge. One of those timber pieces is probably long enough to get over the river. And he can make a bridge wide enough to support the jaculi’s weight.

He explains his plan to the jaculi, feeling a little ridiculous, but he’s allowed to explain what he’s doing to help someone, it’s fine, and says that he’ll be back. Promise.

The landowner gives him a weird look when he asks to borrow the timber.

“It’s too long for you to do anything with it,” he says, still helping Virgil load it onto a sled, “and much too tough for you to cut by yourself.”

“It’s fine just the way it is,” Virgil says, “and thank you.”

He waves Virgil off. “Keep it. You’re doing better than I am with it.”

Virgil’s back at the river bend by sundown. He can’t see the jaculi anymore—it’s probably hidden itself for safety—but he calls out when he arrives.

“I’m going to use these to make a bridge for you. It shouldn’t take me too long.”

The pieces of timber are ungainly, to make a colossal understatement, but Virgil grits his teeth and slides them out of the sled. He wades a little into the river and—

The water is so cold it burns. He has to keep going. It’s gaining on him. He’ll be safe in the water.

The growls get closer and his foot slips—

“No,” he mutters, “no, it’s not that. I’m fine. I’m standing, I’m not hurt, I’m not drowning.”

He blinks down at his boots, the water swirling around his ankles. The timber in his hands shifts as he breathes. He’s fine. He’s fine.

“Okay…okay.”

He grits his teeth again and heaves, bringing the piece of timber with him. He wades further until it’s swirling around his waist. The piece of timber is just long enough to reach the other side. Onto the next one.

He gets the five of them stretched across the river just as the last of the light vanishes. Panting, he struggles back up onto the side of the river bank and splays out onto his back, eyes closed.

A low hiss sounds in his ear.

He just manages to avoid a scream.

“Hey,” he gasps instead, eyes flickering open to see the jaculi coiled up a few feet away, “uh…please don’t do that.”

The jaculi just blinks at him.

“Uh…why don’t you, uh…” Virgil holds a hand to his chest, trying to get his breathing back under control. “…try out the bridge?”

The jaculi slithers closer, flicking its tongue out against the timber. It looks back at Virgil.

“Go on,” he encourages, “you can do it.”

It slithers on, testing the boards against its weight.

Virgil holds his breath until the jaculi vanishes into the trees across the river banks, slipping further and further into the darkness.

Anbel leaves on his trip the next moon.

————————————

Honestly, when the kraken explodes out of Virgil’s well, he just sighs and fetches his bath so he can get the poor thing out.

“Easy,” he grumbles when the kraken squirms so much he almost drops it, “you may be a young one but you’re still heavy.”

Panting, he drops the tentacled beast into the full tub, his arms flying up to shield his face from the shower of sparkling drops. Judging by the happy trills and clicks, the kraken likes it in there. He shakes his head.

“So that’s why I’ve been asked to fight a monster in the sewers,” he muses, watching the kraken’s tentacles writhe giddily in the metal tub, “just how did you end up so far inland?”

The kraken, of course, does not deign to answer. Instead, the tentacles latch onto the side of the bath and threaten to tip the whole thing over.

“No, you idiot,” Virgil shouts, grabbing onto the other side and weighing it down. He winces when more water spills onto him, drenching him head to toe. “Now look what you’ve done.”

What the kraken has done, apparently, is get Virgil close enough so that its tentacles can haul Virgil into the tub.

“Hey!”

Virgil spits water out of his mouth, much to the kraken’s delight.

“That was rude.”

The kraken just chirps happily and wriggles around. Its tentacles stick to Virgil’s clothes and pull him through the water.

Virgil’s chest tightens.

One of the first things they teach you about krakens is never get in the water with them. The second thing they teach you about krakens is do not get in the water with them. The third thing they teach you about krakens is not to get too close to their tentacles so they don’t pull you into the water with them.

And yeah, this is Virgil’s bathtub, not a river, a tide pool, or the open sea, but you can drown in an inch of water.

Virgil presses his back up against the rim of the tub. The kraken seems to realize something’s wrong and settles, burbling softly.

“Hey, bud,” Virgil says shakily, “I, uh, what’re you doing here?”

The kraken twitches a few tentacles and more water slops over the edge.

“Right…” Virgil shakes his head. “Okay, well, uh, I would rather not sit here and soak through all of my clothes, so I’m just going to—“

As soon as he tries to move, the kraken wraps a tentacle around his leg and tugs.

“Okay, okay, not leaving, not leaving, um—“ Virgil reaches down and takes a handful of the grass. Worst comes to worst, he can tip the tub and get the kraken back in the well.

The kraken lets go as soon as he settles back in the water. Virgil looks at the creature carefully.

There’s a mark on its head. Discoloration, probably, but still obvious. As he watches, the kraken burbles to itself and starts making little ripples in the surface of the water with its tentacles. After a moment, it starts gently pushing the water towards Virgil.

The water laps at Virgil’s knees in little waves, not enough to wet him anymore—not that it would matter at this point—but enough to bounce back and make more patterns. The kraken trills softly and keeps doing it.

Does it…want to play?

Slowly, Virgil lifts his hands up and starts to push the water back. The kraken, realizing that Virgil is indeed committing to the idea that he is going to play with this kraken, trills louder and uses more of its tentacles to move the waves bigger.

“Yeah? Is that how it works?” Virgil moves his hands. “Like that?”

The kraken chirps.

He’s not really sure how long they stay there, playing with the water, but it’s long enough for the sun to go down in the sky and Virgil to get more than a little chilly in the water.

When the kraken notices that the water is rippling more around Virgil and he’s not moving his hands any faster, it wraps a tentacle around his ankle and tugs.

“What? You tired?” The kraken leans its head against the side of the tub. “Okay. Well, I don’t know how long you can stay in here—“

He cuts himself off when the kraken jabs a tentacle toward the well.

“You wanna go back in there? It’s so small and cramped, and the sewers in town aren’t much better.”

The kraken insists.

Sure. Why not.

Virgil grunts as he lifts the kraken back into the bucket, carefully lowering the creature down into the well. He hears one more trill before splashing sounds indicate that the creature is gone.

Funnily enough, reports of the sewer beast vanish overnight.

When Virgil wakes up panting from a nightmare of ropes around his neck, the glass of water on his bedside table is perfectly cold.

————————————

Virgil curses as the sole of his boot slips. He just manages to catch himself against the cliffside before splitting his knee on a harsh spire of rock. Gritting his teeth, he forces himself onward.

The cliffs frown over him as he makes his way up the pass. The rocks crumble threateningly as his boots crunch, crunch, crunch. The sword on his hip feels too heavy. He curses, tugging his glove the rest of the way onto his hand.

He never was one for dragon hunts.

The message came in a week ago. Some poor terrified soul had come screaming into the town, ranting about dragons, missing people, curses, the whole lot. Virgil had taken up the call and set off, promising to get to the bottom of it.

He never promised to hurt anything.

Thunder rolls ominously in the distance and he bites back another curse. There’s a cave up ahead, he can see it just over the next ridge, he’ll rest there.

In all honesty—and he can be honest, now there’s no one else around—he hates these kinds of missions. Finding something is one thing. Going to get something is one thing. Rescuing someone is one thing.

This feels like something else.

There’s something in his boot. There’s a wrinkle in the thinnest shirt he’s wearing. The sword belt is digging into his hip. The voices in his head won’t shut the fuck up.

The cave is right there.

He all but collapses to his knees as soon as he makes it inside, just as the first drops of rain land on the back of his armor. He breathes a sigh of relief, heading further into the cave, into the safety, out of the storm.

It’s quiet here.

He takes the knife out of its loop on his belt and sets about setting up a fire. There’s a reasonable stash of dry wood here, probably enough to keep him going throughout the night. He makes a small bundle and lights it, blowing on it until it catches and burns merrily.

Shrugging off his pack, he leans it up against the wall and starts to dig out the dried meat. He tears off a long strip with his teeth and chews slowly, staring into the flames.

There’s something nice about fire. Not all fire—he’s got the burns to prove that—but this fire. Controlled fire. He sits back on his hands, brushing aside the eggshells to lean against the cave wall.

Controlled fire is…justified chaos. It’s strange, to think of chaos as being justified. But that’s what it is. A controlled burn. Snapping and sparking amidst a small mound of wood, warm. Safe. It’s strange to think of fire as safe, too.

Virgil sits back, finishing off his meal and closing his eyes. The fire is very, very warm. Much warmer than he would expect for just a small campfire. And a little irregular, too. It comes in waves, pants, almost.

…wood, eggshells…

Okay, look.

Look.

Virgil’s tired, okay?

It’s not like this is what normally happens to him on hunts.

He knows what he’s doing.

He does!

It’s fine.

This is fine.

This is so utterly fine right now.

But…okay, yeah, maybe Virgil’s not been paying as much attention as he should be. And maybe he’s fighting down a panic attack right now. And maybe he’s frozen in fear to the floor of this cave and not sure how he’s survived this long.

Whatever.

Virgil cracks an eye open.

“…hey, there, dragon.”

Surprisingly enough, his head does not get immediately bitten off. Instead, the dragon looks at him, nostrils puffing hot air into his face. The smell of dank cavern air mixes with what Virgil really hopes isn’t decomposing human.

“Um…fancy seeing you here?”

The dragon huffs louder, still staring into Virgil’s soul. He risks a glance over its shoulder to make sure that yes, this is the only dragon in this cave, there aren’t suddenly going to be five of them. He spies the scales trailing further into the darkness, muscular legs, long, powerful tail. The dragon growls, snapping his eyes back.

“Hey, uh—didn’t mean to invade your cave.” Virgil scoots backward. “That was absolutely my fault. I can, uh—well, I can’t really promise to leave you alone, but I, uh…rain check?”

As if on cue, thunder booms from outside.

Shit.

A lower growl sounds from the dragon as its mouth curls up. Wow, those teeth are long…

“Can you, uh—so I know that this is a pretty big request, considering I just, you know, invaded your cave, but uh—maybe don’t eat me?”

Judging by the growl, that’s a no.

“Okay, I, uh—“ Virgil risks a glance around. His fire is still burning. Maybe he can at least get the dragon to back up before he—

He pauses.

Near the fire, the dragon’s leg looks…wet. Its scales are stained with a dark splotch coming from somewhere higher up. As he watches, the dragon shifts its weight and it gets wetter.

“You’re hurt,” he says softly, “you’re—oh, god, you’re hurt.”

He looks back up. The dragon’s snarl doesn’t quite soften, but its mouth relaxes a little.

“I’ve got salve and bandages in my pack,” he says cautiously, “if you let me get them, I can—I can help?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, he moves his hand to his pack, keeping the other one raised as he opens the flap and takes out the bottle and the bandages.

“Can I have a look, please? I’m just gonna…”

The dragon huffs cautiously as Virgil turns, moving around its body to crouch next to its injured leg. Now that he’s closer, he can see what’s happened.

A shard of metal is lodged in the soft space between two of the scales. Every time the dragon moves, it shifts, spilling more and more blood. Judging by how loud the dragon is breathing, it must really hurt.

“You poor thing,” he mutters, “how long has this been here?”

No response.

“We gotta get it out,” he says instead, looking for something he can use, “if we leave it in you might get infected, or…something else bad will happen.”

He pulls a pair of pliers from his pack and the dragon snorts.

“Easy, easy—“ the dragon’s eyes go wide at the glint of the flame off the metal— “hey, it’s okay, I’m gonna use these to get that metal outta you, yeah?”

It seems an hour before the dragon calms, gingerly stretching out its leg so Virgil can see the shard. Taking a deep breath, he hooks the pliers around the edge of the metal.

“Ready on three, okay?” He grits his teeth. “One…two…three!”

He yanks.

The dragon roars as the metal shard comes out in his hands, the side release almost sending him toppling back into the fire. Quickly, he discards the tools and reaches out to soothe the dragon, petting its scales and hushing it gently.

“Shh, shh, it’s out now, it’s okay, it can’t hurt you anymore.” He runs a hand over the dragon’s heaving back. “I’m gonna help you, okay? I’m here to help.”

It seems to calm the dragon, its breathing slowly but surely calming down as Virgil continues to speak softly to it. Honestly, if it were this easy to calm himself down, he would have a lot fewer problems.

“I’ve got to clean it,” he says after a minute, “just to make sure you don’t get infected. Then I’ll be done, okay?”

The dragon swivels its massive head around, looking at the wound, then back at Virgil. It heaves a great sigh and its chin comes to rest on the floor, staring at him. Guess that’s as close to permission as he’s gonna get.

“Thank you. This, uh, this may sting a bit.”

He barely gets a flinch as he starts cleaning the cut. Dragons. Once he’s wrapped the dragon’s leg as best he can, he turns to peer at the shard of metal he pulled out of the wound. He holds it up, examining it in the firelight.

It looks…wrong.

It’s too thick to be just something that happened to get in there, but too jagged to be something natural. It looks like it snapped off of something, but it’s not the right shape to be an arrowhead or a piece of a building. So what…?

He turns when the dragon starts to move.

It heaves itself to its feet, testing out its weight on all four legs. When the pain doesn’t shoot through, it lumbers off, further into the cave. Its head dips down, out of sight for a moment, before it turns and starts back toward the fire, dragging something in its mouth.

Virgil’s eyes widen when another bag is dropped in front of him.

“Is this…is this someone else’s?” He lays his fingers carefully on its surface. “Did…did you…did someone else come here before me?”

The dragon huffs.

With trembling fingers, he flips open the bag. There’s a good store of meat in here, a change of clothes, something for armor, it’s a provisions bag. One side has a little loop attached with nothing inside.

“…someone tried to stab you,” he realizes in horror, looking back up at the dragon. “Someone tried to fight you but couldn’t. So they stabbed you in the leg.”

His fists clench.

“They hurt you.”

Another huff. Then the dragon nudges the bag toward him again.

“Is there something else in here?” Virgil starts sorting through the possessions. He lays the clothes to one side, the bottles to another. When he gets to the food, the dragon leans forward and snorts, blowing hot air into his face.

“This? This is what you want me to get?” He looks at it. It’s just more dried meat. It, uh, it actually looks a little better than his. “Are you hungry?”

The dragon snorts at Virgil’s pack, then at the food in his hands.

“…are you…giving this to me because I’m still hungry?”

Another huff, longer this time, and the dragon’s head comes to rest on the floor, eyes staring up at him.

Virgil swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. “Well, that’s—thank you.”

The dragon rumbles as he starts to eat, eyes blinking lazily. Virgil tries not to mind too much.

And…honestly? It’s not that bad. He’s had worse audiences when he’s just trying to eat. The dragon switches its tail every now and then, huffing gently to keep the fire going. It’s…nice.

Virgil finishes eating as much of the food as he wants and tucks the rest away. He takes a moment to just…look.

“The other person,” he says eventually, “the one that hurt you…they—I think they wanted to kill you.”

The dragon stares at him like he just said the sky is blue.

“No, really, I—I don’t think they wanted anything else.” He shakes his head. “We’re not near enough to any villages for that to be the reason, there aren’t any traveling paths through here, there’s…there’s no other reason. I think they just wanted to kill you.”

The cave falls quiet as the rain pours outside.

“…I think they wanted me to kill you too.”

Virgil’s chest aches. Something in his right hand tingles.

“Why do they always want me to kill you?”

And he’s not just talking about the dragon now.

It’s always the same.

Fight this. Kill that. Rescue us from this. Save us from that.

What if you’re not the ones that need to be saved?

Virgil lets his chin drop to his chest and sighs. His sword hangs heavy at his hip. His hands tremble in the burning light of the fire.

“I hate to impose,” he manages through a sluggish tongue, “but…may I stay? Just until the storm passes?”

A low thud makes him look up. The dragon shifts, its tail curled in a half-circle around Virgil and the fire. It huffs softly.

“Thank you.”

————————————

Sometimes he has sleepless nights. Drifts in blackness and emptiness until it’s time to get up. Or he’ll close his eyes for what feels like an instant before he wakes up the next day.

Sometimes he has restless nights. Can’t sleep, can’t manage to get more than a few minutes of tense darkness before his eyes shoot open and he has to reassure himself that’s he can sleep.

Sometimes he has good nights. Dreams of sunshine and warmth and the safety of a hot drink between his palms. Closing his eyes and just hearing the peaceful hum of his cabin.

Most of the time he has nightmares. The good ones are just mixes of monsters he can’t see coming, kills he wishes he didn’t have to make. Losing someone he should’ve been able to save.

This one’s a bad one.

Jaws close down on his arm. The creature whips its head back and forth, shaking him like a rag doll. He grits his teeth and tries to—

His eyes widen as the burning roof collapses on top of him. A heavy beam falls onto his chest and he can’t move, he’s going to—

The cliff face collapses under him and he plummets, fingers scrabbling for a hold against the crumbling face. He can’t reach, he can’t reach—

“….shut up, you’re gonna wake him up!”

“If you stop shouting, then he won’t.”

“Shh, the both of you.”

“This is certainly working, I think we should all keep talking like this.”

“Oh, don’t you start!”

“Hey, hey, shh! He’s waking up!”

Virgil is waking up, as a matter of fact, and he also has no idea where he is or what’s going on. He does know there are at least five people in this room with him though. That’s either a good thing or a really, really bad thing.

He can feel rocks under his head. Is he still in the cave, then? How other people…here? Where’s the dragon?

“Hey,” one of the voices says, “are you okay? You kinda, uh, well, you weren’t looking very good for a little bit there.”

“Back up, you morons, you’re gonna scare him!”

“We’re not scary, shut up.”

“You’re scary.”

“All of you be quiet,” the first voice says, before it softens again. “Hey, can you open your eyes?”

Well, I’ve definitely made worse decisions.

He wholeheartedly concurs with that thought when the first thing he sees is genuinely one of the most attractive people he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting face to face.

“There you are,” the beautiful person says, “good morning. Is your head alright?”

“Uh—“ not now gay panic— “uh?”

“Back up, Logan,” another person says, “let me see.”

Logan—great name, sure, why not—moves out of the way, and oh god there’s two of them.

“Hi!” The other attractive person leans over Virgil and gods— “are you hurt? You looked a little upset while you were sleeping.”

“You—“ Virgil does not squeak— “you watched me while I was sleeping?”

“Well, you fell asleep and Roman got worried, so—“

“I’m sorry,” Virgil interrupts, “who—who are you?”

The person in front of him tilts his head. “Don’t you recognize us?”

I would absolutely fucking remember meeting you, and I do not.

“Patton,” Logan says, “he’s a mortal. He won’t—we are not as we were when he met us.”

The butterflies in Virgil’s stomach ice.

These…these are creatures. Is he—what supernatural force did he piss off?

Logan smiles at him and winks. First off, rude, but—

Virgil squints. One of the man’s eyes is a deep bluish-grey. The other one—the one he just winked with—is a dappled brown.

Oh.

“…you’re the sprite.”

“I am,” he says, “my name is Logan.”

Something nudges his shoulder. Virgil looks over to see Patton offering him a round stone.

“…the mastiff elemental?”

“Patton, actually.” Patton smiles and gestures over Virgil’s other shoulder.

Why are there five of them and why are they all so pretty?

“Can you guess who they are?”

One of them rolls his eyes. “Yes, that sounds like a perfect use of time that isn’t at all a waste.”

“Okay, so you’re the jaculi.”

He smirks. “Janus.”

The one near the entrance to the cave just cackles and bounces on the balls of his feet. Almost like…

“You made me spill the bathtub over my whole yard!”

He cackles louder. “Yes, I did!”

Virgil rolls his eyes. He’s not fond. He’s not.

“Remus,” Logan scolds, “you said you were just going into the well.”

“He took me out!”

“Yeah, because that thing is cramped as hell.”

“Aww,” Patton coos, “how sweet.”

“Well,” the last one says, smiling softly from one of the darker corners of the cave, “we knew that, didn’t we?”

Virgil turns, looking hard into the darkness. The last person stands, walking over slowly, leaning most of his weight on one leg. As he moves into the light, he sits down on the log and reaches down. Virgil’s eyes widen as he gets handed the last of the dried meat.

“You’re still hungry,” the person says softly, “I can tell.”

Virgil cannot eat right now, thank you very much. Instead, his eyes are fixed on his bandage, still tied sloppily around the person’s leg.

“You’re the dragon.”

“I am. But you can call me Roman.”

“…does it still hurt?”

“Oh, this?” He smiles and moves his leg. “A little. But it’s almost better,” he finishes, reaching over to gently bump Virgil’s shoulder, “thanks to you.”

Yes, hello? Virgil would like for someone to explain what’s going on, please.

“I’m sure you’ve got questions,” Logan says, also sitting down, “and we can do our best to answer them. But first…are you alright?”

Uh, no. “Why do you think I’m not?”

“You’re breathing faster than most mortals do at rest, your face is more flushed than it was, and you were troubled while you slept.”

…shhh…

“I, um…I was having a nightmare.”

“Ooh,” Remus says, plopping down on the floor with his chin propped up on his hands, “was it a bad one?”

“…you could say that.”

“Remus,” Patton chides, “don’t.”

Remus pouts but hushes, reaching out to toy with a stick. Patton rolls the stone between his hands.

“You did seem upset,” Janus says, “can we help?”

“H-help?”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, help. Or is that not a thing most mortals do?”

Um. Well. Uh, hang on.

“Are you just going to be mean to him,” Logan sighs, “or are we actually going to make an effort to be friendly with the person we have decided to befriend?”

“Can one of you explain what’s going on?” Patton nods to Virgil. “Before he decides we’re all mad?”

Roman sighs. “Virgil? Are you still hungry?”

“Huh? No, no, I’m…I’m okay.”

He smiles. “Good. This…this might sound a bit strange, but…try and keep up?”

“As weird as it might sound, this isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Roman blinks in surprise, a small smile coming over his face. “Isn’t it?”

“Well, you must have some idea of what I do for a living.”

Roman’s smile only grows. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we do.”

Logan clears his throat. Virgil turns, seeing the book from his cabin appear in Logan’s hands.

“Did you—is that my—“

“I can assure you,” Logan says softly, “that I did not steal your book from you. Rather, this is a copy, generated from the information I was able to learn.”

“What did you want?”

“We were cursed.” Logan closes the book with a snap. “Cursed to take on forms that were hated or feared or simply a nuisance.”

Virgil’s stomach drops. Cursed?

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “that sounds…awful.”

“It was,” Janus mutters, “completely inconvenient and an utter waste of time.”

“You say like it wasn’t your fault.”

“Oh, right, it was absolutely only my fault.”

“You two,” Patton huffs, “enough.”

Virgil’s still trying to wrap his head around everything. “Wait, hang on, so—you were cursed? Were? Past tense?”

“Well,” Janus gestures to himself, “I don’t exactly look like a snake anymore, do I?”

He raises a finger when Virgil opens his mouth.

“Careful, dear.”

Virgil snaps his mouth shut.

Roman rolls his eyes and places a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “You broke the curse, my friend. Or at least…you helped us break it.”

“But how? I didn’t—I didn’t do anything.”

He raises an eyebrow and gestures to the bandage. “You don’t consider this doing anything?”

“Or this?” Patton holds up the stone.

Logan taps the cover of the book. “You helped us. When you had no reason to, past the goodness of your heart.”

“We would’ve been hurt,” Janus says quietly, “or hunted without you. They certainly would’ve killed me.”

“And me,” Remus says.

Patton nods. “And me.”

Roman simply taps his leg. Right. They already tried to kill him.

Virgil blinks. “So…me helping broke the curse?”

“You caring broke the curse,” Logan corrects gently, “and, well, when you...when you seemed to be in need, we wanted to care for you too.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

“So,” Roman says, smiling up at Virgil, “how can we help?”

“Help? With—with what?”

“The nightmares.”

“Oh,” Virgil mumbles, averting his eyes, “you, uh, can’t. Not really. They’re not a curse or magical or anything. They’re just nightmares.”

“But there must be something we can do.”

He shakes his head sadly. Believe him, if there were anything five unfairly attractive people could do, he’d tell them. But there isn’t. “They come with the job. There’s not—no one can do anything.”

He can practically hear Patton frowning. “That’s not very fair. You do so much for others, don’t they—don’t they care?”

Virgil shrugs. “Life isn’t fair.”

“So take what it won’t give you.” Janus folds his arms. “They don’t care for you. Even though you care for them.”

“They do care for me,” Virgil argues, “they’re kind. They help me.”

“Not with this,” he shoots back, “not with what you really need.”

“You protect everyone,” Roman says softly when Virgil opens his mouth to argue again, “who protects you?”

Who protects the protector?

“…no one.” Virgil shakes his head. “No one but me.”

“Well, you’re right. That doesn’t seem fair at all.” Logan sets the book aside and it vanishes into the darkness of the cave. “Perhaps we should endeavor to fix that.”

“F-fix it?” Virgil’s head jerks up. “How?”

“Let us protect you.”

“Protect me?”

“Do keep up,” Janus sighs, but he’s pretty sure he can see him smiling over there, “at the very least, we have magic. That should offer you something.”

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Roman says quickly, “but…thought we’d offer. Think it over.”

…well, if ‘protection’ involves seeing them more often, Virgil can definitely work with that.

“While I think it over, will you tell me how you got cursed?”

“So it was entirely Janus’s fault—“

“It was not!”

“Yes, it was!”

As Remus and Janus start arguing, Virgil smiles and leans back against the wall of the cave. Roman waves his hand and the cave wall warms, almost cradling Virgil. Logan settles on his other side, weight solid against his arm.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

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forthehpfanboys · 3 years

Text

Navigation

Fics- Closed Drabbles- Closed Headcanons- Closed

Key: Work In Progress *Headcanon (MDI) Minors Don’t Interact

Prompts can be mixed up, but limited to 2 per request. Ya’ll should know how prompts work, but just in case: just say which numbers you want from which lists and what character and reader specifics.

Please DO NOT repost my stories anywhere else without my permission.

Calling It Even: You just moved 'across the pond' from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts, but before you actually moved you'd made a friend! Well, two and you just so happen to bump into them at the Leaky Cauldron!

Quidditch and T: Harry surprises Ron with tickets to the Quidditch World Cup after the war, after Hermione and after finding out Ron has a crush on the first professional trans masculine the Chudley Canons or the World Cup has ever seen.

I’m Sorry (Angst): You hate Ron, Ron hates you. Pretty simple. It only becomes complicated when the bloke says something about your cologne in Potions class.

Hush-Hush: After pestering turns arguing with Ron about keeping your romantic relationship a secret, your big secret comes tumbling out in the library, in the middle of the night, with a few witnesses.

Gold Strings and Red Picks- Part 1, Part 2 (Smutty), Part 3 (Smut): The Weasley's invented a band! Having a band, means you need a band manager; someone to help find venues, gigs and sponsors. After finding one, Ron seems to be hopeless drawn toward them.

Count Your Losses (Smut)

Neither (Smut/Drabble): You and Ron have history together.

❄️Cold Hands (Drabble)

A Shared Bed (Smut/Drabble): You and Ron have always shared beds, it was normal.

*Reader Comes Out as Trans to the Weasleys

*Ron’s First Boyfriend

*Ron’s First Date

*Reader and Ron’s First Time (Smut)

Home Alone (Smut): Harry plans on giving you something important to him when your home alone leading to you two get carried away and end up in your bedroom.

Bloody Knuckles and Sunshine (Angsty): Harry loved his ball of sunshine and will do anything, including throwing hands at a dude a head taller than him, to protect it from harm.

Into His Hands (Smut)

Try to Understand

Different (Smut/Drabble): You expected a lot, but not everything.

Soft (Smut/Drabble): Harry manages to get you alone and learns your as soft as you look.

Admirable (Fluff/Smut/Drabble): Harry convinces you that you’re worth it.

❄️Fireplace Snuggles (Drabble)

Some Random Smutty Thingy

*Harry and Black-Lupins Trans Son

*Harry’s First Boyfriend

Tough Hufflepuff (Angsty): Reader is a shy bean who is willing to teach the DA for Harry and everyone and ends up falling for a specific witch in doing so. He ends up winning her after a fight with a specific bleached ferret.

Not Going Anywhere (Angst): You’ve kept a pretty big secret from your bird for a while, but what happens when you end up revealing it on one fate filled night where she sees it first hand?

History: Hermione swore she would hate Slytherins since Draco Malfoys blonde self rolled into town, but your relentless flirting and charming smile causes her to feel stuff.

White Out (Angst)

After Party Bliss (Smut)

More Than Reading Books (Smut)

Better Than A Protection Spell

Cuts Deeper than Bone

Broken Stitches (Smut, Drabble): Hermione usually gripes about your dirty clothes being everywhere.

❄️Story Time (Drabble)

Broken Stitches (Smut/Drabble)

Line Without a Hook

❄️Snowman Building (Drabble)

*Reader Comes Out as Trans to the Weasleys

Intact (Angst): Life goes to hell when your mother, who happens to be Bellatrix LeStrange AND a Death Eater, finds out you joined the Order of the Phoenix with your boyfriend.

Tan Lines (Smut): George didn’t tell anyone; Fred just figured it out and then Fred told you. It was quiet simple. So, you take some time to appreciate the younger prankster.

Thin Walls (Smut/Drabble): You end up alone in a tent with George.

❄️Holiday Decorations (Drabble)

*First Boyfriend Headcanon

*Reader Comes Out as Trans to the Weasleys

Two Years: You got back to Diagon Alley after the war and desperately wanna talk to him and explain why you were basically non-existent during the war. But is Fred ready to talk to you?

Obvious Enough? (Drabble): Fred hates seeing you with his younger brother when he’s right across from you.

Will You?

❄️Christmas Photos (Drabble)

*Reader Comes Out as Trans to the Weasleys

*Fred’s Dominate Boyfriend (Smut)

Dirt Smudges

I Hate Blue

❄️Hot Cocoa Movie Night (Drabble)

Scary

❄️Mistletoe Kisses (Drabble)

Gay Panic

Firework Distraction

You're an Idiot (Smut): Draco is being a brat.. Again. No one's surprised when you run into him after getting back late from Hogsmeade. Also, the reader is Hermione's older brother.

Dance With Me: Draco really wishes he asked you to the Yule Ball. He wishes his father wasn't such a prude. He wishes you were on his arm, not Potters.

Match Already Made: Hermione tries to play match maker. She is so determined to see you and Harry get together she's obvious to the fact you're already taken. Even if you’ve kept it a secret.

A Good Look On You: You and Pansy have been friends since- since forever! Draco was fine with it until Pansy found out his little secret and decided to flirt with her close friend, leading arguing and kissing.

Christmas Break (Smut): You liked Winter Break Draco. Unfortunately, he was replaced by Usual Dick Bag Draco who becomes ruthless. At least Harry is there to make you feel better.

Into His Hands (Smut)

Tunes

Noise (Smut/Drabble): Draco wakes you up early for a quicky.

New (Smut/Drabble): Draco doesn’t appreciate you disobeying him.

It Doesn’t Hurt (Angst?/Drabble): Draco bothers you until you snap at him.

Glass (Smut/Drabble): Draco has a nice, long mirror hanging from his wall.

Dust and Dirt (Smut/Drabble): Draco loves that you want to try something new.

❄️Ice Skating (Drabble)

*Blaise’s Hufflepuff Boyfriend

*Blaise and Golden Trio’s Brother

*Blaise and His Boyfriend (Smut)

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oneletteredwondered · 4 years

Text

One of the Boys

Virgil is a new tenant to an apartment complex and his landlord seems real nice. He told Virgil that should he ever need anything fixed to just give a call. He managed to get over the anxiety of calling someone for help, now he needs to get over the gay panic he experiences every time his landlord sends ‘one of the boys’ over.

Pairing: Everyone has a crush on Virgil who is also gay for everyone.

Warnings: panic descriptions from talking over the phone/to new people. Possible second hand embarrassment, swearing

Prompt pic at the end.

In all fairness, Virgil loves his new place. Way more than the old place he used to live at least. At least here the walls weren’t cracked and seemed sturdy enough that he wouldn’t be able to hear his neighbors through them. While he does his sweep of the place, writing down anything that might be wrong so the landlord can’t blame them on him, there’s barely anything broken or messed up. A clear step up from his old apartment.

“What you say Oogies?” Virgil nods to the black cat lounging on the cat tower after he’s finished his walk through. The cat stares at him, he stares back. They blink slowly at the same time and Virgil puffs out a breath. OogieBoogie wasn’t fond of the move. Complaining loudly at every jostle of the cat carrier. Virgil wanted to let her out but couldn’t until all his stuff was moved in for her safety. Seems like he’s forgiven.

“Come on lazy bones,” He finagles the cat out of the tower and she curls over his shoulders, paws dipping into the hood of his hoodie, and purrs. He smiles and scratches at her chin. For the most part she blends into the patterned fabric, her grey stripes the only thing that pop out, and even then only barely.

Virgil locks the apartment door, cat on his shoulders, and walk-through papers in hand. They walk their way around the complex and to the main office building. Virgil almost hesitates, thinking maybe he should go tomorrow morning at a better time, but OggieBoogie nuzzles his head encouragingly.

“Yeah okay,” He whispers to the animal, knowing she’s smug as he opens the door. It’s fluorescently bright. There’s no one at the front desk. Virgil takes two steps, and nearly backs out, when a friendly face pops out of one of the offices.

“Oh Virgil!” Virgil lets out a sigh of relief. He recognizes the elderly face

“Hey Mr Sanders,” He gives an awkward wave. The cheery man laughs.

“You may call me Thomas you know,” He says smiling at his cat and waving to the animal. She blinks at him.

“Right, yeah, course, Mr. Thomas yeah,” Virgil says. Thomas gives him a fond smile but doesn’t correct him. Thank god. Thomas helped him fill out lease papers when he first came to check out new apartments. Honestly a blessing as Virgil had no idea what he was doing. Bonus that Thomas professed the place to be queer friendly as well. Virgil hung up his rainbow flag in the window the moment he found it.

“Oh I brought the walk through papers back,” He hands them over and Thomas takes them happily.

“Everything good so far?” He asks. Virgil nods, nothing on there that he thought needed fixing, at least right away.

“Oh,” Thomas says softly. Virgil tenses and Oogie starts purring on his shoulder to comfort him.

“Are you having problems with the lights?” Thomas asks, very sincerely. Virgil shrugs a little and Oogie shifts to accommodate his motions.

“Not really, nothing serious,” He tries to play it off. Thomas pouts at his papers.

“Some of the plugs not screwed in properly, not working, a light out in the laundry area,” Thomas ‘tsks’ as he reads off Virgil’s writing. He perks up and offers Virgil a bright smile.

“No worries at all! I’ll send one of the boys over to fix it.” He offers Virgil a wink and riffles through his pockets. He pulls out his wallet and inside it a business card for the office that he promptly hands over.

“You ever need anything fixed, do not be afraid to call ya hear?” Virgil just nods, taking the card with him.

“Wait the boys?” He finds himself questioning. Thomas smiles again with a flippant wave of his hand.

“It’s the name of the contractor company I have hired here for the apartments. Someone should be over in about an hour to help you with the lights.” And with that Thomas is walking away to his own office, leaving Virgil to go back to his new home.

“Shit,” He mutters as he now realizes. Company coming over, and his new home is a mess. He walks quicker than he normally does to try and clean a little before ‘one of the boys’ makes it over. Oogie is not as impressed.

Virgil does well distracting himself. He organizes the boxes and even rearranges the hazardously brought in furniture to his liking. Oogie is lounging in her cat tower again, watching him try not to be frantic. He’s in the middle of putting some tupperware containers in the cabinets when there’s a knock on the door.

He wipes his hands on his jeans to make sure they’re not sweaty, and opens the door. Somewhere in the back of his mind he debates slamming it shut but in the end remains frozen with the front door wide open. Cause there in front of him is an absolutely gorgeous guy, hair slicked back and a cunning smile.

“Good afternoon, my name is Damien. Mr. Sanders said you needed help with some of your lights?” His voice sounds like silk and though there’s a long scar across side of his face, it takes nothing away from his beauty.

“Uh yeah.” Virgil says awkwardly.

“Yeah, yeah,” He says even more awkwardly and moves to the side to let the guy in.

“Much appreciated,” The guy, Damien says. Virgil can’t tell if the dude is cheeky or not, but damn is he flustered trying not to stare at his arms and the way he moves in those white jeans. Who wears white jeans to fix things? Virgil should send them a thank you note.

“Which plugs were having issues?” Damien asks then and Virgil decides words are not needed just this moment and deigns to gesture as best he can. Damien smiles at him and sets to work straightening some of the plugs out and replacing one in the corner when he notices a crack in the casing.

“Excuse me, miss.” He hears Damien say and peeks over his kitchen counter to see Damien gently nudging Oogie away from some of his tools. Virgil whines.

“Oogies come on let the man do his job,” Virgil goes over and scoops the cat up, petting her head to keep her from getting annoyed that she couldn’t continue with her curiosity. Damien laughs though and stands, now taking out the walk through Virgil so diligently wrote not 2 hours ago.

“You said that some of the plugs don’t work and that some of the switches don’t lead to anything?” He glances at Virgil with just a hint of a smirk. Virgil hugs Oogie a little tighter to keep his gay panic from spiraling.

“Yeah just seemed weird? I didn’t know if it was something wrong or what,” He says with a shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. Damien lets out a small laugh and waves Virgil to follow. He pulls out a small plug in light and pushes into one of the sockets Virgil said wasn’t working. He flicks the switch on the wall and the light pops on.

“Oh,” Virgil says and wants to die of embarrassment.

“Well now I feel stupid as fuck,” He says. Damien lets out another laugh, flicking the light twice more to demonstrate.

“It’s to save power that some of the switches lead to the plugs. Nothing broken there. You’re not stupid because you didn’t know.” He takes back his light and once more gives Virgil that sly smile. The worst is he smiles in a way that makes it seem like he knows what he’s doing to Virgil, which is just rude. Except he’s not, Damien is insanely polite which does not help Virgil in the slightest.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Damien asks as he puts the last of his tools back in the case.

“Nah. I’m good, thank you,” Virgil says, determined not to make a fool of himself this time. Damien nods his head.

“Have a good rest of your day then. It was a pleasure meeting you,” And this smug bastard winks at him and closes the door behind him. Virgil lets Oogie fall to the floor, picks up the nearest pillow, and screams into it. At least he can do it with proper working lights.

Virgil is freaking out. There’s no other way to put it. He is freaking out. So he got a little lazy and didn’t do his dishes. He’s been working so often and never found the energy to keep up. He decided he had a dishwasher for a reason, and even though he felt bad because the machine wasn’t even full, he ran it, and now there is water over the floor. Shit.

He sits on the couch, legs bouncing, with his phone in his hands. Thomas’s number is on the screen, ready to be dialed at the press of a button. Virgil still isn’t sure if this counts as a proper emergency. He managed to clean up most the water with some of his towels, but water is still coming out. Maybe if he just keeps rinsing out the towels and waits for the cycle to be done, he can pretend it never happened.

OogieBoogie jumps into his lap. She kneeds at his leg and is put out when he doesn’t move right away to pet her or give her proper access to his lap. She bumps her head against him and pushes her way to his chest, knocking his phone with her foot in the process.Virgil hisses at the action and ruffles her face in revenge.

“Hello?” A very faint voice calls out. Virgil swears softly and picks up his phone.

“Uh Mr Sanders Thomas?” He says into the receiver, then pulls it away to stare at the ceiling to briefly wonder what is wrong with himself.

“Yes?” Thomas says on the other line.

“It’s Virgil from Unit 16 B.”

“Virgil! How are you?” Thomas doesn’t sound put out that Virgil is calling him, which is a good sign so far. Virgil takes a deep breath, hands working methodically though Oogie’s fur.

“Doing okay yeah, how are you?” He says, it’s important to be polite. Thomas laughs.

“Doing good over here. What can I help you with?”

“Uhm, my dishwasher is leaking? And there’s water on the floor and I don’t know how to fix it. You said I could call if something is wrong and I just, yeah.” Virgil shrugs to himself. Thomas gasps on the other end.

“Oh no! That won’t do. I’ll send one of the boys over to help clean it up.” And Thomas hangs up. Virgil stares at the phone, then at his cat, then back at the dishwasher. He really doesn’t want Damien to see him embarrassed like this again. He buries his face in Oogie’s side and lets her purr calm him down. He must be there for a while because soon enough there’s a knock on the door.

Thankfully, it’s not Damien on the other end. However, it’s another incredibly attractive guy with a wild smile and even wilder hair that makes Virgil tense up because how. This one wears a shirt with the sleeves ripped off to show how ripped their arms are, and again, white jeans, though this time, the jeans are not as white as they once were, evidence of the work that has been done in them.

“Afternoodle! I’m Remus. The Sander’s Man said something was wishy-washy with your dishy-washy?” His smile in untamed and Virgil stares at him dumbly trying to understand what the hell just came out of his mouth.

“Yes?” He ends up asking more than saying, and moves over so Remus can come inside.

“Much appreciated, now what is gong on here?” Remus smirks down at the mess of the kitchen with his hands on his hips.

“I just ran the dishwasher and water started coming out. I was in the kitchen when I felt it on my foot.” Virgil explains as Remus moves some of the soaked towels over. He finagles the machine to open, something Virgil was too scared to try.

“Oh boy, I see. Give me one hot second here hot tamale, and I’ll get this all cleaned up.” Virgil isn’t sure what he should be more flustered by. Being called hot by a hot guy, or the fact the dude flexed while talking and there is some serious definition in his arms. So Virgil just nods as Remus skips out to the maintenance golf cart outside the door, and brings back in a tool box.

Virgil watches from over the counter as Remus pulls out the racks and practically crawls his way into the dishwasher. Virgil decides it’s a good time to walk away so he doesn’t end up staring at Remus’s ass while he works. That’s not proper behavior for someone who is trying to help.

It’s a few minutes, one colorful yet not quite a swear, and a victory noise later that Virgil feels okay going back to the kitchen area.

“Oh! Hello~ pusspuss!” Virgil gets to watch the exact moment Remus looks up to see Oogie staring at him working. Virgil scoops the cat up.

“Sorry she’s really into strangers.” He says. Though really, she hides from everyone. Remus lets out a cackle of a laugh.

“That’s fine, I’m into strangers too. So I fixed the problem here, no more soggy floors for you. Make sure to run it every so often so it keeps things going clean and unclogged.” Remus says far too quickly for Virgil to respond properly. He picks up his tools and returns them to the case. Virgil does a half-assed job of not staring at his back which is now water soaked.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Remus asks at the door. Virgil shakes his head.

“As long as it works I think I’m good,” He says. Remus smiles openly.

“Have a good rest of your day then!” He says and closes the door behind him. There was really no reason for him to flex as he said that but Virgil enjoyed it and no one else has to know.

“Shit shit shit,” Virgil is fumbling. He had to go grocery shopping and get some cat food for OogieBoogieBaby. And no self respecting trash panda such as himself would dream of carrying it back inside in more than one trip. So he’s fumbling with his arms lined with bags that would be cutting into his skin if not for his hoodie sleeves, but even then, those are falling and he wishes it wasn't so hot out.

He manages to make it to his door, shift some bags around so he can get his key out, when the bag of cat food starts slipping. Virgil can see it now, cat food all over the front porch to either collect ants, or other cats, or any other large animal. He wouldn’t feed it to Oogie, to afraid of what is on the ground and if it’ll upset her stomach. He braces for impact and for another quick trip to the store.

“Whoa!” Virgil feels the weight leave him but not the crash. He blinks at the ground, then at a pair of white jeans, then at the bag of cat food in someone else’s arms, then up to the face of a bespectacled stranger with brilliant blue eyes.

“Are you alright?” Stranger asks calmly and takes another bag from Virgil that looks ready to topple at a second’s notice. Virgil snaps out of it once it’s out of his hands.

“Shit yeah thanks,” He breathes out in a rush, thankful as all hell as he manages to finally get the door open. He pushes it with his hip and Oogie is waiting at the door for him, meowing up at him. He coos a greeting to her and sets the bags down in the kitchen, the stranger follows only to the inside door and puts the bags down there to not intrude.

“Thank you so much,” Virgil says once he’s done pretending he can carry that much. The stranger just offers him a small smile, kneeling down to let Oogie sniff his gardening glove covered hands.

“It was my pleasure to help you. My name is Logan, I’m one of the workers on site.” He says and stands. His voice is low and calming, it would make for a great audio book, and Virgil is not going to spend the rest of the day thinking about that.

“Though I do apologize for suddenly grabbing your things, I know that can come across as ‘creepy’ and I do not wish for that to be my first impression.” He pries a glove off and holds out his hand. Virgil takes it and gives it a small shake.

“I’m Virgil, and this is OogieBoogie,” He introduces himself and his cat who has deigned to jump on the counter and sniff at the contraption on Logan’s back. He gently pushes the cat away with a soft look in his eyes.

“Pleasure to meet both of you. None for you I’m afraid,” He chides Oogie gently. Virgil swallows because damn, someone interacting gently with his cat more of a heart throb than originally intended. And Logan is nothing if not simply scholarly stunning.

“My apologies again, be sure to let someone know if there’s anything we can help you with. Have a wonderful rest of your day,” Logan nods his head softly and there is just the smallest crinkle around his eyes hidden under his glasses and Virgil is so weak as he closes the door to his apartment. He’s come into contact with one too many pretty people at this complex and it will be the death of him. Still, it is nice to wave to Logan every so often as he preens the landscaping around the buildings.

Virgil watches as water drips down the window. It started the other day after some rains. He put a towel under it to keep some of the water from ruining anything, but it’s still going the next day. Virgil sighs and looks at his phone, Thomas’s number on the screen. He takes a deep breath and presses call.

“Hello?” Thomas answers.

“Hey Mr. Thomas it’s Virgil, from Unit 16 B.” A practiced line. Thomas gives a happy gasp.

“Virgil how are you?” Thomas always sounds excited to speak to him. It helps.

“Doing okay, how are you?” He asks, absently petting Oogie’s back.

“Good good! How can I help you?” Thomas asks in turn. Virgil looks at the window.

“Something’s up with my window? It’s like.. leaking.” He explains but not really. Thomas hums.

“Did this start up with the rain?”

“Yeah, I’ve tried cleaning it with towels but it keeps going.” Virgil says. Thomas makes another hum noise.

“Sounds like a problem with the roof. I’ll send one of the boys over.” And Thomas hangs up. Virgil isn’t as put off with the abrupt ending, expecting it this time around. He glares at the window and goes to wait for ‘one of the boys’. Oogie follows over and demands pets. It a decent distraction till a loud knock comes from the door.

Virgil opens it and it's just unbelievable how down right beautiful this guy is. His hair in perfect waves and a charming smile on his face. His sleeves are also cut like Remus's were, but far less frayed.

"Wonderful morning, my name is Roman. Our dear Mr. Sanders told me there were some ill issues with the roof is that right?" He speaks with such confident flamboyance Virgil is a loss for words.

"Yeah," Is all he manages to say. He's pretty. Way too pretty for this.

"Yeah, sorry it's over here," He turns and leaves the door open for Roman to follow. Roman laughs loud and proud and does just that. Virgil shows him the window and does not bit his lip as Roman jostles the frame showing off muscles that are illegal.

"The panes seems closed but I'll check outside as well." He turns and heads out the door. Virgil follows.

"And the roof?" He asks. Roman offers him a dashing smile, checking his tools that he attaches to his belt, holding up pristine white jeans.

"You may hear some noises for a while as I'm up there, but fear not, I'll find the problem." He gives Virgil a wink and with ease, he finds a ledge on the building and hoists himself up. Virgil does not squeak. Certainly not cause he's scared that Roman will fall, and certainly not cause he rolls his shoulders and Virgil can see his body move and god damn it he’s so not straight.

So he goes inside and pretends there’s not a real attractive guy fixing his roof. The noises of fixing continue for an hour or so, Virgil keeping busy with cleaning and some mild work emails. Then the noises stop. Virgil glances at his ceiling curiously.

"Uh, Roman?" He calls from his front door, making sure the dude didn't fall off and die.

"Be down in a moment fair tenant!" He hears. Virgil rolls his eyes and barely turns when Roman suddenly lands in front of him.

"Roof is all set. There were a few shingles out of-"

"Did you just jump off the roof?!" Virgil interrupts. Roman blinks at him and has the nerve to smiling so dashingly again.

"I dare say I did," he says as if it's no big deal. Virgil sputters at the reckless, careless, brash attitude. Roman is far too entertained by it.

"I'm honored by the concern, dearest. Just one more moment to check the window from the other side." He winks again and is walking around the building before Virgil can say anything.

He grabs Oogie and plants his face in her fur. Too gay to function. He talks to her plainly about how unfair it is that pretty boys plague his life, only to find out he can absolutely be heard through the window by Roman asking in a muffled voice.

"You think I'm pretty?" Virgil screams and hides in his room, hearing Roman laugh through the wall. This is how he dies, he decides. This is even worse than the time Damien had to tell him his lights weren’t broken, he just didn’t know how to use them. This is so much worse.

He groans loud and dramatically when there’s a knock on his front door. He doesn’t want to open it. But he does, cause it’s rude other wise.Roman stands there, smug expression and a bright smile.

“Checked everything and cleaned up some water. A few shingles out of place and a loose vent, got those all patched down. If it continues to leak it might be a bigger issue so be sure to call if it does. Anything else I can help you with?” He asks. Virgil takes a steady breath to say no.

“I think I’ve dug my own grave enough for today,” He says, further digging his own embarrassment grave. Roman gives another laugh.

“Enchanted to meet you pretty boy, have an amazing rest of your day.” And then Roman honest to goodness bows and drives off in the golf cart. Virgil closes his door softly and looks at Oogie who stares back from her perch on the counter.

“Don’t even start,” He tells the cat. She looks away like she doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Boogs! No!” Virgil does not like shouting at his cat. He doesn’t like shouting in general. But it gets OogieBoogieBitchBaby away from the wall she is using as a scratching post. She scampers off as he approaches, fingers going over the claw marks in the wall. He groans to himself.

He moved her cat tower because she kept getting onto his work papers. In revenge for disposing her from her favorite perch and sights of the room, she clawed at the wall instead, leaving a few nasty scratches behind.

“How am I supposed to fix this?” He asks where she’s run off, hearing her run around. He bangs his head on the wall. This is not how he wanted his night to go. In the end, he has Thomas’s number on his phone and piece of paper he tore to shreds in worry over what he could possibly say.

“Hello?” Thomas answers.

“Hey Mr. Sanders, it’s Virgil. I-”

“Virgil! How are you?” Thomas asks. Virgil takes a deep breath.

“I’m- I’m so sorry Mr. Sanders. It was an accident I swear.” He needs to apologize, cause if Mr. Sanders kicks him out, he’ll have to go hunting for places to live again, and who is going to take him with a cat who destroys things, and then because no one will take him, he’ll die on the streets and Oogie will eat his toes.

“My cat Oogie she got upset with me and she clawed the wall and I’m so sorry,” He says in a rush.

“Hey, hey Virgil it’s okay. It happens, our furry friends do funny things. I’ll send one of the boys over to help fix it right up, okay?” Virgil swallows a lump in his throat at Thomas’s easy solution.

“Okay,” He croaks out and then hears the click of someone hanging up. He lets his phone drop and then puts his head in his hands. He doesn’t want to be kicked out his apartment, or to have Mr. Sanders think bad of him as a tenant, or as a bad pet owner. He throws himself back on his couch. He feels so dumb.

Thankfully, there’s a gentle knock to his door. Hopefully his savior in this mess. He opens it to bubbly boy in round glasses, giving him the most cheerful smile Virgil’s ever seen.

“Hey there, evening to you, my name is Patton. Mr. Sanders said we have some kitty claws on the walls?” He asks. Virgil lets his shoulders drop.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry about it.” He says Patton waves his hand.

“It’s not a cat-astrophe, it happens. Can you show me where it is?” He asks. Virgil nods and steps back to let the boy in white jeans in, then pauses.

“Did you just make a pun?” He deadpans. And Patton giggles.

“Sorry, sorry, just slipped out. I’m pawfully bad at them.” He says with a bright smile. Virgil stares at him, then snorts into his hand.

“That was really bad,” He says but Patton just beams at him.

“Got you to laugh though.” And Patton should not sound so proud of making a stranger laugh. Virgil coughs to cover his awkward and shows him where Oogie got to the wall and Patton ‘tuts’ in response, putting down a bag of tools on the floor.

“I have just the thing to get this back in purr-fect conditions.” Patton opens his bag and pulls out some paint and calking. Virgil steps back to let him do his job, very aware that Oogie is hiding somewhere away from him. It makes him nervous to not see his cat in the area. Sure Oogie isn’t a registered therapy animal, but she does a good job of keeping him calm.

“There, al-meow-st done!” Patton smiles at him over his shoulder and adds another coat of paint to the wall, looking good as new. Maybe it’s the puns or the cute, but Virgil does relax.

“Thanks for that.” Virgil says as Patton cleans up. He giggles once more and waves Virgil’s concern off again.

“It’s no big deal, it’s what we’re here for.” He reassures. Virgil sighs and turns to the small meow behind him. Oogie is on the table staring at him. Patton lets out a squeal of happiness.

“Oh she’s precious!” He says in syrupy sweet voice. Virgil snorts again and looks between the two.

“Wanna pet her?” He asks and before he finishes Patton is shaking his head.

“Un-fur-tunately I’m allergic. But she is paws-itively adorable.” Patton coos and waves to the cat, Oogie does nothing in return but that’s to be expected. Virgil rolls his eyes at the both of them.

“Thanks again for your help,” He says. Patton beams and there are freckles on his cheeks. Freckles, too cute, not allowed.

“Of course! Anything else I can help you with?” He asks. Virgil’s turn to shake his head.

“I think we’re good now,” He says. Patton giggles once more.

“Have a claw-some rest of your night,” And that shouldn’t be funny but Virgil snorts again and Patton is proudly walking off.

What the fuck, what the fuck. Virgil stares at the door knob in his hand. He just went for a late walk to get his mail, Oogie joining him on his shoulders. Something rattled in the door knob when he opened it, having to actually shove the door open to get back inside after unlocking it. When he went to close the door, the handle came off in his hand before he could close it proper.

What the fuck.

He stares at the space where the door knob was and his open door. His mind immediately races to all the creepy people who can break in and steal things or kidnap his cat. Or even all the bugs that will make home in his food and hair. Nope. None of that.

“Hey Mr Sanders?” Virgil says first, his anxiety over the open door he can not close for fear it won’t open again overriding his normal fear of calling his land lord.

“Virgil! How are you? It’s very late,” Thomas yawns on the other end. Virgil winces. He probably should have thought this through considering the time.

“I’m okay, so sorry to wake you, it’s just. My door handle uh, fell off?” There’s a pause.

“Well that’s not good.” Thomas says.

“I’ll send one of the boys over.” He hangs up plainly. Virgil has enough time to worry if he made Thomas upset by calling so late, and worry Oogie somehow got out only to find her cuddled in her tower, when the bad lights from the maintenance golf cart shine through the crack in the door.

There’s an awkward knock and Virgil pulls the door open. He’s not sure who in their right mind has sunglasses on this late, but at least this gorgeous person isn’t using them to hide their bright eyes. They give him a quirky smile.

“Well this isn’t something you see every day.” They remark and Virgil has to huff out a laugh, some of his panic subsiding.

“Evening babes, I’m Remy. What happened?” He asks and goes about unscrewing the rest of the door knob, kneeling down and scuffing his white jeans that nearly glow in the darkness. Virgil tells him the lead up and Remy scoffs out a laugh of their own, giving Virgil a glance, that turns into a once over, that shakes him to the core.

“No worries, I can see the broken piece. Easy fix.” He winks at Virgil and gets a spare doorknob from the golf cart. Virgil stand idly by as he fixes it, keeping Oogie from getting too close.

“Wassup cat?” Remy asks and gently puts his knuckles to her head in greeting. She makes a noise and then trots off, satisfied with the attention.

“What’s their name?” Remy asks while he screws things back together.

“That OogieBoogie, Oogie for short, though she’s been more of an OogieBoogieBastard lately.” She meows at Virgil from the top of her tower. He hisses back at her. Remy snorts.

“Nice, I have an orange cat named Pumpkin.”

“Nice,” Virgil says back. Remy smirks at his response and keeps working. Vigil pretends the look on Remy’s face didn’t give him reckless night vibes, that he would take Remy up on if he asked, cause damn, the dude’s hot.

“May I borrow your key for a second babes?” Remy twists the knob a few times and with Virgil’s borrowed key, closes, locks, and opens the door with no problems.

“All good to go, anything else I can help you with?” He asks as he hands back the key. Virgil shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m good, thanks for that,” He says. Remy gives him a wink.

“Have a good night babes.” Another wicked smirk and Virgil does his best to close his door at a proper speed. His heart is pounding and these pretty boys will be the end of him.

“Hi! Welcome in, how can I help you?” Cute, is all Virgil can think when he enters the office. Pastel, is second. There’s a new receptionist at the desk, freckles and a mega-watt smile.

“Hi uh, I got a notification I have a package?” He stammers out. Oogie purrs at his shoulder, reminding him it’s okay.

“Sure! What apartment number?” Virgil rattles off his numbers as the receptionist looks in the package closet.

“For Virgil?” They ask. He nods and takes his box, keeping it away from Oogie as it’s a surprise for her birthday.

“Oh! I’m Emile by the way. I’m working in the office now so if you need anything just give us a call okay?” They’re so earnest. Virgil ends up just nodding his head, only speaking when Oogie bumps her head to his.

“Yeah, thanks,” He says and before he can make an exit Thomas appears from inside one of the offices.

“I thought I head you! Virgil, how are you?” He asks. Virgil gives him a soft smile.

“Good, and you?” It’s only polite. Thomas lets out a laugh.

“Good here too. Say, the staff is hosting a tenant party here, some games and some food, you should join us if you’re not busy.” Thomas hands Virgil a flyer with some gaudy colors. Virgil does a good job of not letting his dislike of the idea show.

“You should totally come!” Emile beams at him and it does something gay to Virgil’s heart. Virgil glances at the two of them smiling at him.

“I could stop by?” He offers not waiting to make them mad at him. They cheer and turn back to their jobs. Virgil walks back to his apartment, petting Oogie as he does.

“What did I just get myself into?” He asks her. She bumps her head to his hand in response.

It’s not a bad turnout for an apartment complex party. Virgil does show up, Oogie situated on his shoulders. Even though its closer to summer, He’s still wearing his hoodie if not just to give her a place to put her paws should she wish to.

There’s those plastic cheap tables lining around the pool area, boxes of pizza and some crinkly plastic containers of mini sub sandwiches sit on top. There’s a section for drinks and cups right next to. Virgil gets himself a cup of lemonade.

He glances about. Some people are playing some bean bag toss game, others are playing on the mini putt putt area Virgil didn’t even know they had. Lots of people are in the pool, messing around and splashing water at each other. He sticks to the sidelines.

“Virgil!” Or maybe not. He looks to who called his name and though he’s happy Logan called for him so he doesn’t have to be alone, he’s lamenting the fact that not only is it Logan, he’s also with Patton, Damien, and Remy. Fuck. Virgil goes bug eyed, giving himself a pep talk, helped along by Oogie making a ‘mrrp’ noise in his ear, and walks to his doom.

“Hey Logan,” Virgil says once he’s close. Patton waves as best he can with hands full of pizza.

“Sup babes?” Remy asks with damn smirk, sunglasses appropriate now. Virgil rolls his eyes.

“Damien, if you don’t remember,” Damien holds out his hand. Virgil of course remembers embarrassing himself in front of freaking sleek attractive Damien, but he isn't about to say that. Virgil takes his hand to shake and Damien flips it to bring a kiss to the back of Virgil’s hand. Virgil’s jaw drops as Patton giggles helplessly.

“Dee don’t do that!” He says but there’s not force behind it. Damien just smiles like the cat that got the cream.

“I didn’t know you two were familiar?” Damien turns the attention to Logan now. Logan just pushes up his glasses.

“I admit to helping Virgil carry in groceries more than once.” Logan says, giving Damien a look that Virgil doesn’t have the power to decipher. Patton whines.

“Kiddo you could have asked for more help,” He says. Virgil shrugs.

“Two trips are for the weak.” He and Remy tap their glasses together in a cheers.

“Yes and I’m sure dropping your groceries is also for the weak.” Logan chides and it does hit a little harder, but still Virgil taps his glass to Remy’s again in a cheers.

“Virgil!” Someone calls and Virgil is blinded by the force of Emile’s smile so suddenly in his face.

“You came!” He’s excited. Virgil nods and takes a step back. Oogie murmurs upset on his shoulder.

“Yep, I said I would and hey, free food.” He ignores the looks the others give each other and Emile just bounces.

“Well I’m glad you’re here. Me and Patton were gunna play corn-hole later, you should join us!” Patton gives an equally excited gasp as Emile gestures to the bean bag toss.

“Uh sure,” Virgil says. Emile bounces and waves, and is off to say hi to other residents as soon as he came. Virgil is reeling from the interaction and it only gets worse.

“Is that pretty boy??” Virgil hears the splash before he sees anyone but then Remus is there in his face, shirtless and in swim trunks and dear god, he has a tramp stamp.

“Hello again stranger~” He coos. Virgil musters up a hi when suddenly another shirtless person is standing next to Remus.

“It is pretty boy! How are you darling?” Roman says. Virgil has officially hit gay panic mode. If the earlier mix of suave and cute wasn’t enough to do him in, the pure amount of muscle now is going to do him in.

“Fine,” He chokes out. Remus and Roman both laugh at his answer. Great. If he hoped for any kind of saving from the others, it’s surely a dashed hope by the amused looks on their faces.

“Are you joining us in the pool?” Remus asks excited. Oogie hisses from his shoulders. Vigil raises a hand to calm her and she nuzzles his knuckles.

“Uh not today.” He says, which is the wrong thing to say.

“But another day?” Remus asks all wild excited. Roman shoves him.

“Like he wants to spend time with your gross ass!” Roman shouts playfully. Patton huffs and calls him for his language but he is ignored. Remus gasps offended with a wild smirk on his face.

“Sure he does, can’t keep his eyes off these guns,” And Remus flexes. Virgil smacks a hand to his face. Oogie dips to hide in his hood. Roman lets out a laugh and firmly shoves Remus back into the pool.

“The only gun he needs is a glock to the face.” Roman puts a fist in his hand, flexing as well. The pun does get Patton to giggle though and Damien rolls his eyes.

“Virgil I am going to get some food, would you like to accompany me?” Logan asks finally done with the nonsense.

“How do you know his name!?” Roman screeches.

“I asked.” Roman let's out an outright offended gasp for whatever reason. He doesn’t get to say another word as Remus from out of no where, runs and tackles Roman back into the pool with no such boundaries.

“Food sounds good,” Virgil says. Logan smiles softly at him.

“I think I shall join you,” Damien says looking into his cup which doesn’t look empty but who is Virgil to judge.

“Come find me and Emile when you’re done okay?” Patton interjects before they can leave. Virgil offers him a two finger salute, and then leaves Patton and Remy to go find Emile, while he finds food.

“Idiots,” Logan mutters once they are away from the pool. Damien hums in thought.

“But not wrong,” He says.

“They aren’t right either.” Logan snaps back.

“Should I go?” Virgil asks as they are clearly not talking to him. Both Damien and Logan look at him scandalized.

“Certainly not!” Damien says and gives him a slick smile. Virgil swallows down his lemonade to keep his throat from clogging up. He spends some time talking to the two of them, making sarcastic comments and opening up. Oogie pops out to lick his hair at one point.

At that, Virgil finds Emile somewhere, letting them know he’ll be right back, wanting to drop Oogie off at home. He’s comfortable enough here to not need her reassurances, besides, she’s tired from napping and needs to go home to sleep. With some ‘hurry back’ wishes, he’s off back to his place.

He makes sure Oogie is comfy and goes to leave, finding Thomas waiting in one of the golf carts outside his door.

“Need a ride?” He offers. Virgil laughs and joins him in the small vehicle.

“Virgil if I may, I have a favor to ask of you?” Thomas says seriously. Virgil nods his head as his lungs refuse to let him breathe for fear of the favor.

“Please be kind to my grand kids yeah?” Thomas asks, an earnest look in his eyes. Virgil isn’t sure what he’s talking about, but then he looks up. All of the boys who have been coming in and out of his life to fix his home are there staring and waiting for him to get back with the same look in their eyes.

Oh. Virgil thinks.

Oh no.

AN: Lol that multiship life

Edit: now with a part 2

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

holly's august extravaganza day 4: a friend in me

📍 anon - I don't know but I feel like Carlos and Nancy can have such an awesome best friend dynamic. Maybe something sad/scary regarding Nancy happens where she has to make a report at the precinct and Carlos doesn't tell anyone as she made him promise so he starts to just check on Nancy and they just develop this caring, supportive, beautiful, fun, full of banter friendship to the amusement of TK and the 126.

kept this separate from your original ask because i want to keep those other prompts you sent alongside this one for later 😊

ao3 | 2k | hurt/comfort, brief references to gun violence, mostly just carlos and nancy being besties

Carlos has never seen Nancy look so small.

She’s sitting hunched over in one of the interrogation rooms, shock blanket around her shoulders, hands seemingly moving of their own volition to tear the empty styrofoam cup in front of her to shreds. As soon as Carlos had seen her being escorted into the precinct, shaking like a leaf and clutching her coat like a lifeline, he’d persuaded the officer with her to let him take over the case. His association with the 126 is well known so the officer had been reluctant, but Carlos had managed to wear him down, saying that he doesn’t really know Nancy that well.

And it’s—it’s not exactly a full lie. Through their hangs and TK’s stories, he’s coming to see Nancy as a force of nature, a woman who will let nothing and no-one stand in her way, whether that’s out on the field or during a game of Monopoly. But of her personal life, Carlos knows next to nothing; she mentioned a sister a few weeks ago, and TK delights in teasing her about her growing crush on Marjan, but that’s about it.

He needs to make more of an effort, he decides. When they’re anywhere else but a police station.

Carlos knocks lightly on the door to announce his presence before entering the room, sending her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Nancy visibly relaxes at the sight of him and she drops the remains of her cup, though Carlos doesn’t miss the continuing tremble to her hands.

“Hey Nancy,” he says, sliding into the seat opposite her. “How are you doing?”

Nancy’s lips twitch, the corners barely curving into the beginnings of a wry smile. She breathes out shakily, meeting Carlos’s eyes for the briefest second before staring back down at the table. “I’m not great,” she answers, and for her to admit to that… Well, Carlos suspects it’s not a regular occurrence.

He nods, reluctantly pulling out his notebook and pen, hesitating before flipping to the next blank page. Nancy tracks his movements, resignation clearly etched all over her features. Carlos glances at the two-way mirror—not that it does him any good—then reaches across the table to take Nancy’s hand.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” he murmurs. “If you need more time, just say the word and I’ll leave. Or if you’d prefer to talk to someone you don’t know, we can do that too. Anything you need.”

The sudden tightness of Nancy’s grip is unexpected, as is the flash of panic in her eyes.

“Please, don’t go,” she whispers. “I don’t—” She cuts herself off, shutting her eyes and breathing slowly for a few seconds. Slowly, her hold on Carlos begins to loosen until her hand is slack in his, then she draws both hands into her lap and straightens in her chair. When her eyes reopen, she seems more like the Nancy Carlos knows—strong, confident, assertive—though there’s still clearly an undercurrent of fear underneath it all.

“I’m fine. Let’s do this.”

Carlos bites back an are you sure and settles for clicking his pen, his smile unwavering. “Can you run me through what happened, exactly?” he asks. “Take your time.”

A second or two passes, then Nancy nods, her voice steady when she speaks. “I was restocking the bus at the end of shift. I was alone; Captain Vega was in her office and TK was with the others in the showers—he did try to help but he’d had to go into a fire on our last call to help a patient and the smell of smoke was giving me a headache, so I told him to go.”

Carlos pauses in his note-taking, mentally filing that last piece of information away for follow-up as soon as he sees his boyfriend again. Judging by the amused quirk to Nancy’s eyebrow, she’s fully aware of where his mind has gone, so Carlos clears his throat and motions for her to continue, forcing his thoughts back to the present.

“Like I said, I was alone. I didn’t mind it; it was kind of relaxing, you know? Then this guy appeared from nowhere and pointed a gun at me, saying if I called out or turned on the siren or anything, he’d shoot. I thought—” She inhales sharply, her knuckles going white on the tabletop and her jaw clenching tightly. Her voice sounds different when she next speaks, more controlled, as though forcing each word out. “I thought it was happening again. I thought he was going to take me somewhere, make me his personal pet paramedic, something like that.

“Turns out, he just wanted drugs. I gave him what we had on the rig and he seemed satisfied, so I figured he’d shoot me anyway ‘cause I’d seen his face, right? He didn’t—obviously—but it looked like he was considering it.” Nancy pauses and flicks her gaze up at Carlos, biting her lip. “I think he might have done it,” she admits quietly, “but he got spooked by one of the guys making noise so he just bolted. I’m not sure how long it was between that and TK coming back and finding me. I’m sorry.”

Carlos shakes his head. “It’s okay. We can check the cameras at the station. With luck, that should get us an ID, maybe a license plate if he drove. I think that’s almost everything; just one more question, if that’s okay. Can you tell me what you gave him exactly?”

Nancy nods. “Morphine, Ativan, tramadol… I’d have to check stocks for the exact amounts.”

“We’ll do that, don’t worry about it.” Carlos taps his pen on the pages before flipping his notebook shut and leaning across the table again. “Are you okay?” he asks softly. “Speaking as a friend and not a cop, if there’s anything you need, anything I can help with, let me know.”

She smiles wanly. “I’m okay. I just want to go home and forget all this ever happened.”

“Fair enough. I’ll walk you out to your car.”

Carlos half-expects her to brush him off, but she just nods and allows him to escort her back through the precinct and out to her car. He dithers awkwardly, shuffling his feet as Nancy turns to him, one hand on the door handle.

“Thank you, Carlos. For real. I have the feeling it wasn't a coincidence that you were the one in that room with me.”

The tips of Carlos’s ears go pink as he finds himself caught out. “That, uh… That would not be inaccurate.”

“Well, thanks.” She pulls open the car door and Carlos takes a step back, wanting to wait until she’s safely away to go back inside. Nancy ducks as if to get in, then pauses and straightens again, biting her lip as she looks back at him.

“Hey, Carlos?” she says. “Can you do me a favour and not tell the others? Not even TK. They— They know vaguely what happened, but I’d prefer it if the details and, uh, some of the other stuff I told you could be kept between us.”

He agrees immediately, just grateful that she trusts him enough to handle this for her. “No-one will know any more than they need to,” he promises, which seems to relieve her. She thanks him again, then gets in the car and drives away, Carlos watching after her with one hand raised in farewell.

It grows from there.

It’s not intentional exactly, but one text to check up on her soon turns into a steady stream of messages, stories and jokes and even the occasional meme passing back and forth between them. Carlos especially appreciated Nancy's carefully curated collection of dirt on TK, which, as a concerned boyfriend, it is his duty to know. Many a conversation has been spent griping about TK's accident prone ways or sighing over his latest mishap.

Lovingly, of course.

Nancy, 15.48: you’ll never guess what happened this time

Carlos, 16.22: ?

In answer, he receives a picture of a dejected-looking TK sprawled on the floor with Buttercup’s front paws squarely resting on his chest. Buttercup’s tongue is lolling out, a wide grin on his face, and in the background stand the rest of the crew. All of them also seem to have their phones pointed towards TK—probably the reason TK looks so down, as Carlos knows his boyfriend couldn’t be upset with Buttercup to save his life.

Nancy, 16.26: he thought he’d try to teach buttercup some tricks. turns out, dog trainers exist for a reason

Carlos has to stifle a laugh—technically, he is supposed to be working—but his attempt at being subtle is thwarted when his phone repeatedly pings with similar texts and photos from Paul, Marjan, and Mateo. He screenshots the sudden influx of notifications and sends it to Nancy before saving every single photo.

Nancy responds with a laughing emoji and a promise to keep him updated.

Not all of their conversations are about TK, naturally.

Carlos, 19.10: I don’t understand why you don’t just talk to her

Nancy, 19.12: i do talk to her. every shift, actually

Carlos, 19.13: Nancy

Nancy, 19.13: carlos

Nancy, 19.14: i don’t even know if she’s into women, alright? it’s not like i can just march up and ask, that’s like waving a banner saying ‘hey, i’m in love with you’ in her face

Carlos, 19.16: Oh, we’re talking about love now, are we?

Nancy, 19.17: can it, reyes

Carlos, 19.20: Noted. Look, take it from someone who’s been navigating gay relationships in Texas his whole life. Sometimes you just have to go for it. Ask her for coffee, test the waters, see where it leads. You never know, it might work out. I mean, look at me

Nancy, 19.24: wow, way to rub your happiness in my face 😑

(Carlos doesn’t find out if she follows his advice, but he does notice her and Marjan showing up to their hangs together)

(Nancy does not appreciate his smugness)

Without even realising, they become a formidable team. This fact is highlighted one game night about three months after the incident, when Nancy and Marjan blow into his and TK’s house, a determined glint in both their eyes.

“We’re switching up the teams,” Marjan declares, much to TK’s outrage.

“What? Why?”

“Because,” Nancy continues, “we’re tired of losing to you guys. You’re like, freakishly good at board games and it’s not fair. Plus, we have to watch you both being all lovey all the time when you’re on the same team and it’s exhausting. We want to see you being competitive for once.”

TK pouts, but Carlos just shrugs when he looks to him for backup. “It’ll be fun,” he says, smiling at Nancy and Marjan. TK still looks put out, so he leans in close and half-murmurs, “C’mon babe. How about a prize for the winner?”

TK perks up considerably at the suggestion, and, going by the twin looks of despair on Nancy and Marjan’s faces, they caught both the comment and the innuendo. Marjan groans and Nancy raises her eyes skyward, as if pleading for divine intervention.

“This was a great idea, actually,” TK says, grinning. He quirks an eyebrow at Nancy. “You and me, Nance?”

That seems to shake Nancy out of her silent prayers for strength. “Uh, no. I’m with Carlos.” To emphasise the point, she strides forward and grabs Carlos’s arm, dragging him to the couch. He nudges her gently when they sit, smirking at the disgruntled way she digs into the snack bowl.

“You did say you wanted to see us being competitive.”

“Shut up.”

In the end, TK ends up paired with Mateo, and Marjan with Paul. It’s clear from the outset who’s going to win—Nancy and Carlos dominate the board, and not even Paul’s master strategy is enough to catch up with them.

They win by a comfortable margin, fist-bumping in celebration. There’s a general air of bemusement in the room, and when Carlos looks round at the others, he finds four pairs of eyes fixed on them.

“What?”

“Since when have you two been such a good team?” Paul asks, leaning back in his chair and raising an eyebrow.

Carlos shrugs, sharing a smile with Nancy. “Guess we just are.”

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #carlos reyes #nancy gillian #marjan marwani #tk strand #tarlos #lone star #911ls #holly's august extravaganza #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #📍 anon

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qlala · 3 years

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Is it cheating to submit a fic request for the pride post you just made? I neeeed the whole thing (I'm on my laptop, but insert the big gay eyes emoji)

fjskdgjslg "big gay eyes emoji" you know what? just for you. just for you i have written this. i'll clean it up and upload to ao3 later but for now: have 2.7k of len dragging a sunburnt, tipsy, and glitter-covered barry back to his apartment, and happy pride!

Len wasn’t the type to begrudge anyone a good time, especially when the good time involved loud music, leather harnesses, and throwing water bottles at cops. Central City’s annual pride parade came as close as it got to challenging that attitude; families, fellow queers, and queens descended on the city waving more flags than the United Nations after a hurricane, all decked out in color combinations that Len hadn’t been able to keep straight since the ‘80s.

The end result was the kind of crowds that could make a grown man feel claustrophobic in the middle of a city block, and that was without the visible haze of alcohol wafting off the whole event.

But what the parade lacked in personal space, it made up for with one very important commodity: unattended wallets.

The flock of sunburnt twinks in denim cut-offs made Len’s job almost too easy—a hand on a sweat-slicked lower back, a flash of blue eyes, and most of them wouldn’t have noticed their wallets going missing if Len had dangled their IDs in front of their faces afterwards. (While there were plenty of women dressed in just as little clothing whom Len certainly wouldn’t have minded getting within robbing distance of, he’d found queer women as a group to be less enthusiastic about uninvited touching and more enthusiastic about wallet chains, even when three sheets to the wind off of canned rosé.)

He’d taught a dozen visiting suburbanites the importance of not keeping valuables in their back pockets by the time he spotted a familiar profile in the crowd.

His usual red getup wasn’t much more modest than some of the outfits Len had already seen, but even knowing the shape of that body didn’t prepare Len for seeing Barry Allen stripped to the waist, bright-eyed and flushed and shimmering all over with a fine dusting of glitter. Len noted, on auto-pilot, that it didn’t seem like he’d put any of the glitter there himself; he was standing dangerously close to a drag queen throwing handfuls of the stuff on anyone who got within arm’s reach of her. It set the sun refracting off every dip and plane of muscle across Barry’s chest and stomach. Barry’s hair, already wild and dark at the roots with sweat, was full of it.

Len’s feet were carrying him closer before he gave himself permission to move. Barry managed to drag Len into his orbit at the best of times; visibly tipsy and dripping sweat, Len would’ve had better luck resisting the turning of the earth.

Up close, Len could take that Barry had lost his shirt somewhat recently; the slight touch of pink spanning his shoulders and chest had nothing on the serious flush across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. He had a spray of new freckles as well. They were barely distinguishable under the haze of glitter stuck to his skin, but Len noticed them at once, the change unmistakable on an otherwise unchanging face (not a scar to be seen, even after three years of running into burning buildings and jumping in front of bullets; Len was equal parts frustrated and relieved).

It looked like someone had painted a few strokes of color across one of his cheeks at some point, but it was smudged to hell and back. The back of one of Barry’s hands was stained a tell-tale matching purple, and Len could only guess at what it had been at the start of the day.

He stepped into Barry’s space as easily as he had the rest, taking care to keep Barry between him and the source of the glitter, and hesitated for the briefest moment with his hand above Barry’s spine. He’d never touched Barry like this, skin to skin; the gloves had never come off between them, metaphorically or literally. Kept things neat.

Nothing about Barry was neat right now. He turned even before Len touched him, and the movement brought Len’s hand into contact with his side instead. It took everything in Len not to pull it back in a flinch, and he met Barry’s curious glance with a tightly-controlled smirk.

He’d expected Barry to step back, maybe add a bit of blush to those already-pink cheeks. Instead, Barry’s eyes took a belated second to focus, and then he gave Len a face-splitting grin.

“Snart!”

That time, Len did have to pull backwards to avoid Barry dragging him in for a hug. To think he’d been concerned about a hand.

Barry didn’t seem the least bit put out, smiling loose and easy like Len hadn’t iced him to the door of a bank vault the last time they’d seen each other. He hadn’t taken Barry for such a cheerful drunk—he seemed inclined toward melodrama on a good day—but Len would take it over any of the alternatives.

“Barry. Fancy seeing you here. And so much of you, at that.” He let his gaze slide down his bare chest and stomach, pulse ticking up at the warm brown of his nipples and the sharp vee of his hipbones that invited his gaze further down.

“You’re overdressed,” Barry disagreed. He wasn’t quite slurring, but there was a careful deliberation in his tone that told Len it was a near thing. He took a step closer and peered at Len, suspicion evident in those pale green eyes. “And… sober.”

“I’m not here to score. Perks include keeping my shirt on.”

For the briefest second, Barry looked almost disappointed. But it was gone in a blink, confusion taking over. He glanced down at himself, puzzled. Then his expression cleared, and he looked up with another easy-going smile. “I got hot.” His gaze dropped again, to Len this time, and he licked his lips. “Aren’t you… you gotta be hot in all that.”

Len was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and thin jacket, and it hadn’t hit eighty degrees all week. But he wasn’t in the mood to argue with drunk logic. And besides, another scan of the nearby revelers had made something unpleasant begin to scratch insistently at the inside of Len’s chest, and he tapped Barry under the chin with one knuckle to bring his attention back up.

The contact startled both of them—Len’s control had slipped, something he could not afford to happen around Barry Allen—but Len recovered first. “Where’s the rest of your team of do-gooders?”

“Lost ‘em.” Judging by the return of Barry’s crooked grin, it was an accomplishment, not a concern. “Cisco said the shot was too strong, but I didn’t wanna go. He’s the d…” He faltered, brows pulling together as he frowned. “S’the designed. Designinated, superhero, anyway. Shh!”

He shot a pointer finger toward Len in a movement that Len clocked, alarmingly, as intending to be pressed to his lips, as if he were the one who’d been chatting about Vibe’s secret identity. Len had three years of dealing with the Flash to thank for being able to catch Barry’s wrist in time to stop him, and he glared at him for the attempt.

But Barry only gave him a crinkle-eyed smile and twisted his hand in Len’s grip to clasp his wrist back. “S’so good to see you here. I didn’t think…”

“Don’t tell me you had me pegged for straight.”

Barry made a frankly insulting noise halfway between a scoff and a hiccup and tilted Len a condescending look.

“Speedster, remember?” he asked, far too loudly, even for a crowd currently screaming along to a pop song that’d been bad enough the first time Len’d heard it in 2000. “I see it when you...” He let go of Len’s wrist to make a gesture with two fingers, parting them in a V and sweeping them up and down Len’s body, the muscles in his forearm shifting distractingly under Len’s hand. God, the kid had to be a hundred degrees. “When you check me out. In the suit.”

Len smirked. “It’s cute you thought I was being subtle.”

“You’re cute,” Barry muttered, childish and sulky, and Len took it for the compliment it wasn’t.

“You had a point, Barry.”

Barry still looked displeased with him, but his brow was furrowed again when he met his gaze. This close, it was impossible to ignore that Barry had an inch or so on him. “About what?”

“You didn’t think…?” Len prompted him.

Barry stared at him blankly, and Len rolled his eyes and let go of his wrist.

“Get out of the sun, Barry,” he said. “Find a park bench. Wait for your little friends to come find you. Shouldn’t be hard—you’re as red as your suit.”

Barry either ignored his last comment or didn’t hear it. “Iris is here somewhere,” he said, possibly to himself. “She’s…” He twirled his finger absently beside his head. “Curly, today. And… bikini.”

Len strongly considered abandoning Barry to his sunburn to go find out for himself. But Barry was beginning to sway a bit, and a man closer to Len’s age than Barry’s was giving Barry’s toned back a speculative look from a few feet away, and Len gave in to the unsettled feeling gnawing at his ribcage. He refused to call it worry. It was annoyance—or, at the very least, the feeling was annoying him, which was close enough.

“As much a sight for sore eyes as that would be,” he said, allowing a magnanimousness he didn’t feel to color his tone, “I doubt Miss West ran away from her group and got heatstroke. Unlike some people”

Barry didn’t look the least bit chastened, lips curving up mischievously in a way that drew another couple interested looks. Len needed to get them both out of the crowd before he started breaking noses.

“Tell you what. Give Cisco a call, tell him you went home. My bike’s on Kingsbridge, away from the parade route.”

Barry’s smirk sharpened. “Trying to get me out of here, Snart? I thought you weren’t here to score.”

Len gave him a flat look, ignoring the decidedly interested way his body was reacting to Barry’s tone.

“You can barely stand.”

Barry’s eyes glittered at the challenge, and Len realized his mistake.

“Barry—”

He hadn’t even finished biting out the second syllable when the world spun out from under him, the noise and the heat and the press of the crowd swallowed up in a hair-raising charge of yellow lightning. Exactly two and a half seconds passed in a blur of movement, just long enough for Len to realize Barry was supporting the back of his head with one too-warm hand. Then the world came skidding to a stop around them. Barry’s momentum carried them both forward several feet even after their new surroundings materialized, and they very nearly went straight through a window again before Barry seemed to remember how to stop.

Len considered pushing him out the window anyway for the stunt. True, he’d been itching to get another taste of that feeling, the ozone snap-drag of Barry’s power like a live wire under his hands, but he’d rather have waited until Barry could pass a breathalizer.

He realized Barry still had an arm around him and shoved him off. It did nothing to dim Barry’s self-satisfied grin, and Len had to look away or risk giving into the interested once-over Barry was skimming over his body again.

“Pretty sure the point of a designated driver is not doing that.”

Barry followed him when he took a step back. Len made a calculated decision, decided the risk of touching Barry again was worth it, and pressed his fingers to the middle of Barry’s chest—right where the Flash insignia would be on his suit, his brain offered unhelpfully—and pushed him backwards, hard.

Barry unbalanced and wheeled back a step. Then the backs of his knees hit the edge of the couch, and he toppled, satisfyingly, back onto the dark leather cushions.

It was a nice couch. The whole apartment was nice, actually. Len could’ve drawn a perimeter of possible locations based on Barry’s speed and how long it had taken them to reach it if he hadn’t already known the address.

“Sit,” he said. And then, with a smirk: “Stay.”

Barry rolled his eyes. “Gonna have to ask nicer than that if you wanna boss me around in bed.”

The way he threw it out there, easy as anything, almost made Len miss a step as he turned away. He wasn’t going to lay a hand on Barry, not when he was drunk on sunlight and skin and whatever concoction Cisco had apparently cooked up for him. But hearing him say it, like they’d already gotten all of the messy parts out of the way—it set off warning bells in Len’s head, flashing past all the possible off-ramps he would’ve taken if Barry had ever tried to have the conversation in a more linear fashion.

“You’re drunk,” Len said, which was a coward’s answer, and behind him, Barry made a vague noise of agreement.

“Probably,” he acknowledged. “You could stick around ‘til I’m not.”

Christ. Len didn’t trust himself to look at Barry again, not when he knew he’d find him sprawled out and shedding glitter all over what had looked like a very expensive couch. “Stay,” he repeated, and went off to find the kitchen.

By the time he got back with two glasses of water, the problem had solved itself; Barry was out cold on the couch, his painting cheek pressed to the throw pillow he’d curled himself half-around. He was shivering faintly in the air conditioning, all cooled sweat and goosebumps, and Len resigned himself to the now-familiar impulse to help him that stirred in his chest. He put one of the glasses down on the table and, not trusting his hands, knocked his knee into one of Barry’s where it was bent close to the edge of the couch.

Barry buried his face into the pillow with a noise of displeasure, and Len said his name again.

“Last warning,” Len said. “Ten seconds, you find out if I put on steel-toed boots today.”

Barry groaned, and if the sound hadn’t made Len’s pulse skip, the easy shift of muscles in Barry’s arm as he pushed himself up to sitting again would’ve done the trick.

“Water,” Len said, unnecessarily, as he passed him the glass.

Barry took it with the tips of his fingers, as if it were something personally offensive to him, and took a single, polite sip before putting it down beside the other with no small amount of distaste. Then he glanced between the glasses, and up at Len, a dirty spark already lighting behind his eyes again.

“Don’t get your hopes up. They’re both for you.”

Barry let out a breath with audible annoyance and dropped back against the couch cushions to glare at him.

Len felt a modicum of sanity return to him. This, at least, was familiar ground: Barry, frustrated, asking for too much, too soon. True, it had always been about the hero business until now, but Len knew a pattern when he saw one. Give Barry an inch, and he always took a mile.

Len gave Barry one last, appraising look. He looked ridiculous, all self-righteousness and bare skin. There was only one break in the otherwise even coat of glitter, there on Barry’s side: faint, but unmistakable, the outline of Len’s hand on his waist. The feeling in Len’s chest coalesced into something pleased and possessive. He met Barry’s glare with a slow curl of his lips, then gave him an inch.

“Call me when you’re sober, Barry,” he said, letting his voice slip into the Cold drawl just to watch Barry’s eyes go dark. “And you can show me how well you sit up and beg.”

He could see the impatience radiating off of Barry’s frame, the effort it was taking him to stay on the couch instead of closing the space between them.

“Call your friends,” he reminded him. “Enough people got a look at your face today without the CCPD splashing it on every milk carton, too.”

In the elevator, Len reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the thin black wallet he’d liberated from Barry during their sprint across the city. Two and a half seconds: child’s play. A little extra incentive for Barry to track him down in the morning, not that Len thought he needed it. He flipped it open, noted the deer-in-the-headlights picture of Barry on his driver’s license with amusement, and then thumbed open the bill compartment.

Len smirked. Barry wouldn’t miss a few dollars; he owed him for the dry-cleaning it was gonna take to get the glitter out of his jacket, anyway.

#coldflash #leonard snart #barry allen #the flash #my fics #is 10 pm on a tuesday peak posting time? no! is it when i finished this? yes!#also this is blatantly nyc pride sorry #write what you know etc

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gallavictorious · 3 years

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What staple fics of the fandom would you recommend for someone just starting to read gallavich fic?

Hiya there, nonnie – and welcome to the glorious world of Gallavich fic, if you're new to it!

On the one hand, I'm very much the wrong person to ask because staple fics tend to be AU:s and that's not really my cup of tea. On the other hand, I am a librarian, so never let it be said I balk at giving recommendations about stuff I haven't actually read or isn't necessarily to my personal liking. 😉

To make this list, I sorted Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich fics by bookmarks on AO3 and selected the first ten that I've either seen talked about a lot or have had at least a look at myself. This is admittely not a great way to curate a rec list, so for better and more initiated recommendations, maybe check in with the the amazing ladies of @gallavichfanficlibrary? They'll have you covered! If anyone else feels like chiming in with fandom classics for nonnie, I'm sure they'd be grateful. 🙂

Sexual Harassment in the Workplace by shamlessquestions

AO3 Summary: Mickey just needs to keep his head down and stay out of trouble at his new job. Still trouble always manages to find him and when it takes the form of his red haired boss, Mickey's not sure he can resist even if he wanted to.

Comment: The Gallvich fic with the most bookmarks and the most kudos on AO3. You’ll hear this one mentioned a lot! Fair bit of explicit sex scenes.

The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Ian Gallagher by shamlessquestions

AO3 Summary: "It's fuck all about heat or chemistry or any such shit, Gallagher. You and me...it's just a thing that cannot happen. The sooner we both accept that, the better off we'll be."

Comment: Mickey's the right hand man of a Chicago mobster. Club dancer (and college student) Ian starts ”dating” said mobster. Gallavich sparks fly. High stakes and quite a bit of action in this one. Explicit sex scenes.

Take Me In by MintSauce

AO3 Summary: Mickey's Dad finds out about Mickey being gay and even though Ian's not there, but he finds the Gallaghers are still willing to take Mickey in.

Comment: If you enjoy Mickey becoming friends with all the Gallaghers and bettering himself/beginning to heal from the abuse at Terry's hands, this might work for you. Heavy focus on Mickey, as Ian isn't actually there for most of the fic (though he's never far from Mickey's thoughts).

Like Real People Do by grayola

AO3 Summary: At the age of 26, Mickey Milkovich gets his first apartment, his first wifi connection, and his first kiss. How he gets from wifi to kissing is a complicated story. Mickey is socially anxious. Ian is a frustratingly lovable escort working through an app. Mickey downloads said app. The rest is history.

Comment: Fan favourite from last year. Very soft. Not a lot of plot, just Ian and Mickey falling very, very deeply in love (and dealing with their mental health issues in a lowkey, everyday sort of way). Heavy use of texts and messaging, making for something of an old-school fic feel. Explicit. A companion piece, told from Ian's POV is currently being published: Everything About You.

eighty-four by kissteethstainedred

AO3 Summary: “I slept with Mickey Milkovich last night,” Ian whispers.

“So?”

“So—” Ian stares at his phone for a second. “I slept with Mandy’s fucking brother.”

“Ian, what do you want me to say? Congratulations? You’ve been dating Mickey for almost a year,” Lip says, sounding confused as fuck. Ian blinks. That can’t be right. Ian’s only seen Mickey in pictures with Mandy. He’s never even met the fucking guy. How can he be dating him?

Comment: College fic. Time loop, so great if you’re a fan of that! Mandy plays a prominent role. At 13k words this one is way shorter than any other fic on this list.

Our Stubborn Love by TheWaywardBride

AO3 Summary: In which, after years of being separated by more than just prison walls, Ian and Mickey try to find their way back to each other.

Comment: Canon-divergent slow burn told from a bunch of different POV:s. Something of an ensemble piece, although Ian and Mickey are the focus. Doesn't shy away from Ian being in a very bad place post-5x12.

None the Wiser by loftec

AO3 Summary: AU. Slow burn. The real time accounts of Ian visiting Mickey's dingy diner and slowly becoming his friend.

Comment: WIP, with irregular but still happening updates. Domestic, with strong focus on the character's emotional lives. Mickey's a father to Yev, even though him and Svet are long since divorced. They're not kidding about the slow burn.

This is the Road To Ruin by bricoleur10

AO3 Summary: The day Ned asks Ian to rob his house the redhead almost says yes – why shouldn’t he, after all? Ned seems nonchalant enough about the whole thing, he’ll get some free expensive shit out of the deal, and if he plays his cards right maybe he can even convince Mickey to be his accomplice – but something stops him from going through with it.

The third-eldest Gallagher has never been much of a believer in fate or divine intervention or destiny or anything like that – can’t be, with the life he’s led – but he just might have become one, had he only known how that one seemingly insignificant decision had changed the course of his entire life.

Comment: Straight up canon divergence, capturing the early season Gallavich feels before hurtling down the road not taken. Some angst, but with a happy ending. Mandy and Lip play prominent parts.

Cooperative Gameplay by grayola

AO3 Summary: At nineteen years old, Ian Gallagher’s stuck. Stuck in a minimum-wage job he hates. Stuck in the same boring routine--sleep, wake, work, take your meds, Ian!, try not to lose it day after day after day. But after his little brother introduces him to MICK MILK, a frustratingly hot horror gamer he watches on YouTube, Ian's life will never be the same. ♥️

Comment: WIP (but with regular updates). Darker than Like Real People Do, but with a similarly emotional focus. Depicts online fandom on Twitter and Instagram in a rather knowing way. Explicit sex scenes. This fic, and these versions of Ian and Mickey, currently has its own fandom.

The Boyfriend Experience by anomalously

AO3 Summary: The Prompt: Ian: sex worker (male escort, explicit videos: stripping, masturbation, etc) Mickey: client who's an avid fan who gets up the courage to hire ian for "the boyfriend experience" I saw a porn star who said she only sleeps with 1 client & it inspired me.

Comment: WIP, last updated in 2017. Commonly held to be worth reading in spite of not being finished. Quite a bit of explicit sex, occasionally with a bit of BDSM thrown in.

#i hope this is helpful nonnie #i did my best #and wish you the happiest of reading <3 #fic recs #asks

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cactusnymph · 3 years

Text

Prompt fill #4 for @dimension20alphabet:

Dares

“Hey Fig”, Fabian hears the Genasi girl—Romilda? Rowina? Ronalda?—say after their latest Bard class on Tuesday. He’s breathing heavily after finishing his latest dance routine and he’s not actively listening to their conversation, but Fig stopped beside him to ask if he wanted to try dancing to one of her new compositions.

“I wanted to ask if you could—uh. Maybe give me the crystal number of your friend?”

Fabian grins down at his battle sheet, trying to remember if Romilda—or whatever her name was—is pretty and whether or not he wants Fig to give her his number.

“Which one?”, Fig asks, which is honestly ridiculous. He is easily the most attractive one—

“Umm... Riz?”

Fabian stops folding his battle sheet and blinks before straightening his back to turn his head. Rowina is twirling a very pretty, blue curl around her index finger. She’s very attractive and Fabian is not sure he heard correctly.

“Oh, sorry. He’s not available”, Fig says with an apologetic smile and Fabian feels his stomach knot into something very unpleasant. Which makes sense, because first of all, The Ball always insists on him and Fabian being best friends. If Riz has a girlfriend, why wouldn’t Fabian know about it?

Second, Fabian is offended because it’s completely preposterous that The Ball is supposed to be in a relationship while Fabian is not. That’s just absurd.

Sure, The Ball is endearing and smart and funny and loyal. But he’s The Ball. Tiny, skinny, nerdy, socially awkward.

“Oh... Oh, sorry, I didn’t know”, Ronalda says and seems very embarrassed before she turns around and rushes out of the classroom. Fig watches her leave and shakes her head before pulling a cigarette out of her backpack to put it behind her ear.

“Since when is The Ball not available? And why the fuck would a girl like that want his number?”, Fabian asks Fig the second they step out of the classroom to head to the cafeteria.

“Well, I just know that Riz just wouldn’t be interested in someone like that. And also, what the fuck Fabian, why are you being such a dick?”

Fabian wants to know what Fig means by ‘someone like that’. He also wants to ask further questions but he’s sure that it might sound weird to get so defensive about something like this. It’s not like he’s actually interested in The Ball’s love life. Or who he’s potentially kissing. Because that would be weird.

Plus, Fabian could get all the kisses that he wants. He just so happens to concentrate on his dancing right now. And if the whole thing with Aelwyn turned out to be a disaster, then that has nothing to do with him or what a great catch he is. That was simply because they weren’t actually as compatible as they originally thought.

“I’m not being a dick, I’m just saying that it seems wild that someone would want The Ball’s number instead of mine!”

Fig rolls her eyes at him.

“She’s not the first one to ask, you know. Riz has gotten pretty popular after the whole Goldenrod thing at prom”, she says and looks at him with raised eyebrows. Fabian snorts disbelievingly.

Sure, The Ball has changed a lot since they first met. And since, after their Spring Break, he stopped wearing his weird hat maybe Fabian would even go as far as to call him kind of handsome. If he thought about guys like that.

Which he doesn’t.

But the thought that all of a sudden people want to date The Ball is just ridiculous.

“Oh yeah?”, Fabian asks and snorts a little louder than was maybe necessary. “And who else is interested in The Ball?”

Fig narrows her eyes at Fabian and raises her hand before she starts listing names.

“Theo from Barbarian class. Kat from clerics. Ragh said that Riz is cute just yesterday. And Gorgug keeps getting questions about Riz from the Bloodrush team.”

She looks at him as if she’s expecting a very specific reaction from him. Fabian’s first thought is that he somehow feels like he should run every single guy on the team into the ground who asked Gorgug about Riz.

Then he wonders why people never ask him about The Ball.

Then he wonders if The Ball likes guys or girls. If Fabian remembers correctly Baron was a guy, but he was also a nightmare came to life and doesn’t count. Probably.

Then Fabian gets annoyed again because he feels like he doesn’t know all these things.

And then he thinks that maybe Ragh should stay in his lane.

He tries to imagine Ragh and The Ball on a date together, getting their kisses in with each other and it’s ludicrous, completely insane, but his skin feels way too tight for his body all of a sudden and there’s a rush of heat in his abdomen that has nothing to do with dance practice.

“You okay, dude?”, Fig wants to know as she carries her tray over to a table where Kristen, Adaine and Gorgug are already sitting.

“What? Yeah. Sure. Whatever”, he snaps, sits down next to Gorgug and starts poking at the atrocity on his plate that is supposed to be lasagna but looks weirdly like something that might come alive and attack him at any moment.

“What’s gotten his panties twisted?”, Kristen wants to know after one look at him.

“He’s pissed because people want to date Riz”, Fig says and Fabian considers grabbing a handful lasagna and throwing it at Fig.

“Why would you be pissed about that?”, Gorgug asks, confused. There is a beat of silence that makes Fabian raise his head just in time to realize that Adaine has cast Message to tell Gorgug something telepathically.

Gorgug makes a face that shows way too much understanding for Fabian’s tastes because there is really nothing to understand about this whole situation. This is ridiculous. His friends are being ridiculous. And the idea of The Ball being popular is—

“Hey guys”, a voice says and The Ball slides into the seat next to Fig.

Did The Ball always have so many freckles? And hair that looks way too soft to be legal?

Fabian stares at him.

Riz stares back.

“What?”, he asks.

“Nothing”, Fabian snaps and starts eating his lasagna. It tastes just as terrible as it looks. It’s hard to ignore the pointed looks that Gorgug, Fig, Adaine and Kristen exchange meaningful looks with each other.

“Anyway”, Fig says, ignoring Fabian and turning to the others. “Theo is throwing a party this weekend, do you guys wanna go?”

“Sure”, Kristen says.

“Is it one of those parties where people drink way too much and then throw up all over the house?”, Adaine asks.

Fig shrugs.

“I don’t know. Theo is pretty chill and his parents aren’t home, but I guess it would be cool if we just. You know. Stayed in our group and chilled with some beer or whatever. And he said we don’t have to bring our own booze because I gave him one of our records for free.”

“Sure. Yeah. We can like. Hang. Who knows, maybe I’ll even drink a whole beer this time”, The Ball says in the same voice he tends to use when he says the words ‘hooking up’.

“No hard drugs though”, Gorgug says with a look at Fabian.

“Hey! That wasn’t my idea! That dude just came up and kissed me straight on the mouth!”

“Wait, you kissed a dude?”, Kristen wants to know.

Fabian glares at her.

“I didn’t kiss a dude. He kissed me, okay? It was during our boys’ night and I was very high afterwards.”

“Must have been one hell of a kiss”, Kristen says with a smirk. Fabian is ready to throw his tray through the cafeteria but he doesn’t get the chance because at this point a dude he’s never seen before steps up to their table.

“Hey Riz. You coming on Saturday? I invited Fig and you guys over to my party.”

The Ball smiles awkwardly and scratches the back of his head.

“Uh—yeah. I’ll be there, I guess.”

“Sweet. See you then!”

Fabian stares at the guy who is at least as tall as him, fucking jacked—probably because he’s in a damn barbarian class, and he has a damn eyebrow piercing. What a tool.

Kristen wiggles her eyebrows at Riz and he has the nerve to blush darkgreen.

“Stop it!”

“Soo... Theo, huh?”, Kristen says.

“Kristen”, Riz says and buries his face in his hands. Fabian wonders if Theo is the person who Fig was talking about when she said that The Ball is not available. And not interested in people like Romilda. He wouldn’t be, of course, if he’s into guys.

Guys like Theo.

The Ball is interested in guys. And Fabian didn’t know.

“Fabian, bro, you alright, dude? You seem a little on edge”, Ragh says on Friday while they’re out on the field throwing some balls—the irony doesn’t escape him.

“Did you know that The Ball is into guys?”, Fabian asks before he manages to stop himself. Ragh throws the ball to him and Fabian catches it without issue before throwing it right back at Ragh, maybe a little harder than the ones before.

“I mean, kinda? I don’t think Riz knows what he’s really into. Especially because he’s super freaked out about the whole sex thing, you know. But I guess he’s not not into guys. More into guys than girls. Why? That bother you?”

Fabian isn’t sure how to explain to a gay guy that he’s offended about The Ball being into dudes without sounding like the worst homophobe. It’s not that he minds. He’s just pissed because he didn’t know. Because they’re supposed to be best friends—and okay, maybe The Ball was always very insistent on that and Fabian never actually confirmed it. But if Fabian is The Ball’s best friend, shouldn’t Fabian know about this?

Doesn’t The Ball trust him?

“I mean. No. Obviously not. I don’t give a shit”, Fabian says and watches as Ragh raises his eyebrows at him.

“Dude, remember how we talked about feelings and letting them out and like, being truthful about our emotions and stuff?”

Fabian does remember, but he refuses to acknowledge it.

“Fig said that you think The Ball is cute”, Fabian says instead and Ragh shrugs, the ball still firm in his hands

“I mean, yeah. He’s cute. He’s smart and super fucking badass. He has dimples when he smiles. Pretty adorable, if you ask me.”

Fabian feels a rush of anger again and he doesn’t know where it’s coming from. Whoever invented emotions should be hunted down for sport and shot.

“Well, I suppose, if you’re into stuff like that”, Fabian says. Ragh throws the ball at him, also a little harder than before.

“Yeah, stuff like that. Like guys, dude”, he says.

“Yeah. Like that. I wouldn’t know”, Fabian answers.

Ragh opens his mouth to say something but he seems to decide against it and shakes his head.

“Whatever, man. You’ll get there eventually”, Ragh says and Fabian has no idea what the fuck that is supposed to mean, but the next ball he throws flies wide.

Theo’s house is way smaller and less impressive than Fabian’s house—which is to be expected, but he still feels smug about it when the Bad Kids arrive at a red brick building with a garden full of sunflowers and a trampoline in the backyard that multiple people have already started using.

Loud music, laughter and voices spill out of the open windows and onto the street as Fig pushes the small garden gate open and saunters up to the front door to ring the bell.

“Damn, bro, you look sleek as fuck”, Ragh says to Fabian and hits him on the back with one his giants hands. Fabian manages not to stumble and grins. Ragh doesn’t have to know that Fabian took way longer than usual to get dressed because he is ready to get his kisses in tonight.

He doesn’t care about Theo or about the fact that The Ball secretly likes guys. He can like whoever he wants and it’s of no concern to Fabian. For all he knows The Ball can kiss half Elmville and Fabian wouldn’t care one single bit about it.

He keeps telling himself that as he follows the others into the house where people are already scattered in different rooms, many of them already drunk. There is a beerpong table set up in the living room where all other furniture has been pushed aside.

“Hey guys”, Theo says as soon as he spots them and Fabian refuses to notice the way he grins down at The Ball as if they were good friends. Which they are not. Since Riz already has a best friend and, in fact, an entire group of good friends, who are all here right now and of which Theo is definitely not a part.

Now that Fabian stands in front of him he can see that Theo is in fact taller than him, half elven, half orc with light green skin and pointy ears, dark hair and wearing a black muscle shirt which Fabian finds endlessly offensive.

“The guys were just talking about playing some old fashioned party games, do you guys wanna join?”, Theo asks and grabs some bottles of beer from a nearby table to hand them to Kristen, Riz and Gorgug. Fabian considers if it would be appropriate to deck Theo in the face because he didn’t offer Fabian a beer as well.

“I’ve never really played any party games. What kind of games?”, Adaine wants to know. She’s holding Boggy with a look of mild concern on her face.

“Oh, you know. Spin the bottle, truth or dare, that sort of stuff. Should be fun. Come on, I’ll introduce you!”, Theo proclaims and he throws an arm around Gorgug and waves all of them over to what seems to be a dining room that has been filled with a ton of pillows for people to sit on.

Fabian doesn’t really know any of the people sitting here—Fig and Gorgug on the other hand know some of them from Barbarian classes. It turns out that Theo also participates in Druid classes, which Fabians finds weird.

But he doesn’t have time to think too much about how much Theo sucks for various different reasons, because Ragh hollers excitedly, flings himself down on one of the pillows and pulls Fabian down with him.

“Fuck yeah, dude. This rules! Here, have a beer!”

Fabian has never played truth or dare before and he’s not particularly sure if he enjoys it. Adaine seems very on edge and picks truth every time, Fig on the other hand is delighted about giving people dares and picking dares herself. Kristen still has a hard time holding her liquor and insists on daring people to kiss each other. Then she starts crying because she misses Tracker.

Riz is biting his nails as he watches people play and sips on the one beer he’s had since the beginning. Fabian doesn’t actually want to look at him for more than a few seconds, but The Ball is sitting directly next to Theo who is sprawled on one of his dumb pillows and seems to have the time of his life watching two of his buddies stick their tongues down each other’s throats.

Someone dares Ragh to do a prank call on the vice principal and Ragh apologizes to Fig before he dials Gilear’s number to tell him that he won the lottery.

“Fabian, bro! I feel like I should make you kiss someone”, Ragh shouts after he’s done and throws an arm around Fabian’s shoulder. Fabian laughs and considers all the girls sitting in the circle to figure out which one he’d like to kiss the most.

“Make him kiss Riz”, Kristen calls and Fabian is confused for a second until what she said sinks in.

“Kiss Riz! Kiss Riz! Kiss Riz!”

Fabian’s eyes find The Ball’s face.

His big, yellow eyes have grown impossibly wide and he stopped biting on his nails only to start chewing on his bottom lip in a way that looks dangerous with those sharp teeth.

This is absurd. Fabian would never kiss The Ball.

“What?”, he says with a half laugh. “No!”

Fabian feels like this must be some kind of joke. He elbows Ragh in the ribs and says “Don’t be ridiculous.” and it takes him a few seconds to realize that the group of people around him has fallen silent.

“Riz?”, Adaine says quietly.

“I’ll be—uh. In the bathroom. Where the toilet is. To pee”, Riz stammers before fleeing out of the room as if the Nightmare King was chasing after him.

#fantasy high #fabriz #dimension 20 #d20alphabet21 #fanfiction #mi writes #i didnt proof read bc it's too late and also we die like men or whatever xD #fabian seacaster #fabian aramais seacaster #riz gukgak #i'll write part two as my prompt for tomorrow!

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Text

Demonic Intervention (Indruck)

Prompt for the 7th: “Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.” - The Tempest (William Shakespeare). This fill is NSFW

It can't get much worse.

Indrid is barely scraping by. He can count his friends in town on one hand. He’s gay in a tiny, rural community and one of the few men like him is a goddamn priest. His house is a mess. And his every waking moment is filled with the demons of his past or the devils lurking in his future. There are so many of them in his present too, roaming the streets of Kepler.

What’s one more in the mix?

He lights the stubby black candle by the bed, scratches the symbols on the floor, and retreats into his cocoon of blankets to wait.

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

Duck hates when it’s his turn on the summoning shifts. All this ancient knowledge and power and he’s stuck waiting to see if some yahoo in a graveyard or a wannabe cult leader will call him up into the world.

He has brambles that need pruning, damn it.

His name isn’t well known among humans, so he only gets summoned if someone is just rooting around for a demonic entity without caring who they get. He’s only been summoned twice in the last hundred years. The tingle in his horns tells him it’s about to be three.

The room he arrives in is gloomier than any graveyard; the lights are off, the curtains are shut, and the place looks like it got hit by a tornado with a grudge. By the light of the candle, a pale-haired head emerges from the blankets of the small bed. A hand reaches for the floor, comes back with a pair of red glasses.

“Greetings, infernal one. Thank you for answering my summons.” The man’s voice is flat.

“Even demons got manners. So, uh, what’s the job?”

“There are so many dishes in the sink that the thought of doing them is an insurmountable task. Please do them for me.”

“...You realize I’m takin somethin’ from you for this, right? Like a piece of soul or a month of your life?”

“Mmmm” The man rolls over and says nothing else.

“A day of your life for this.” Duck feels like he should haggle more, but then he’d had to pretend he actually thought a higher price was fair.

“I accept your terms.” A crackle of green and black electricity flickers in the air in the form of Duck’s signature and the other man’s name: Indrid Cold.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you.”

Indrid says nothing. Duck is sure to wash and dry before he goes.

The next day he’s summoned to the exact same room, in the exact same state of depressing mess.

“Greetings, infernal one. Please clean this room.”

“Same terms?”

“Mmhmm” Indrid is just staring at the ceiling.

“You gotta say you accept.”

“I accept.”

Duck snaps, turning on the light, and gets to work. Technically he could do all this with a wave of his hand. But then he’d lose his chance to learn a little more about the guy who’s settled on demonic deals instead of a maid service. It’s the opposite of the usual problem he has in these kinds of situations, where the humans reveal their deepest secrets, desires, and fears within five minutes of meeting him.

The records he stacks near their player, the clothes all go in the hamper to be magicked clean, then are hung in the closet; they’re loose and soft, not a scratchy fabric to be found. Tarot cards and candles abound, as do art supplies, and under a pile of drawings he finds magazines featuring muscular, hairy men in various sexual positions. Some of them even look like his preferred human form, the one he’s wearing now.

He glances at the bed; Indrid is on his side, facing him, must have been watching him at some point but has dropped into a restless sleep. The blankets are slipping, showing a The Sonics tank top hanging off skinny shoulders. Right, that was one of the bands in the record stack.

Duck doesn’t tend to pry into souls or auras or shit like that; there are whole heaps of trouble that lay that direction. But as he flicks the dust from the bookshelf covered in paperbacks, he feels the edges of Indrids and nearly falls on his ass from the wave of exhaustion and loneliness.

When it’s time to go, he pauses to pull the blankets back up around him, sets his glasses on the bedside table, and turns the calendar on the wall from “September 1974” to “October 1974.”

When he’s summoned right back to Indrid’s room the next evening, he spots the same tank top on him as he sits up in bed.

“Greetings infernal one.”

“You can just call me ‘Duck’. It’s a nickname.”

“Oh” Indrid blinks, perplexed, “very well. I, ah, there are some bills that need to be paid to keep the lights on.”

“You need the money for them?”

“No, just for someone to fill out the forms and checks and put them in the mail.”

“Okay. But my fee’s a little different this time: you gotta tell me when you last ate.”

“I accept. I ate this morning.”

Duck snaps his fingers

“Two days ago!” Indrid yelps, then slaps his hands over his mouth. He glares, “why does it matter?”

“Because while I’m payin those bills, you’re eatin’ dinner.”

“Everything in the fridge is disgusting and I can’t go to the store.”

Duck takes the short trip out to the kitchen, opens the fridge to the new sound of Indrid’s footfalls behind him.

“You got lots of decent stuff in here; could make you some eggs?”

“No, thank you.” Indrid shakes his head, looking a bit ill.

“Well, what do you want? I can summon it up.”

“I’m out of Lucky Charms.” The humans says sheepishly, staring at his bare feet.

A fresh box of cereal appears on the table, Duck pulling out the half empty bottle of milk. He thinks back to the drawings he saw yesterday and conjures a bowl covered in a pattern of brightly colored moths.

He gathers the stack of bills of while hearts, stars, and horseshoes rattle into the bowl. After a few moments of crunching he hears, “May I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why is your nickname Duck? Does that word mean something else in demonic speech?”

Duck stuffs paper into envelopes, “Nah. It’s, uh, kinda silly but, uh, most demons learn how to take on an animal form. When it was my turn, they asked me which I wanted and, uh, I said I wanted to try bein’ a duck. Liked it so much I stayed that way for three months.”

There’s an odd, strangled sound that makes him look up; Indrid has one hand over his mouth and is shaking with little squeaks. He’s laughing.

“I’m, I’m s-sorry but, but I, I cannot get over the image of you as a little, feathery waterbird.”

Duck smirks, “Only part that ever gave me trouble was the quackin’; always came out too deep.”

He just manages to pull the envelopes back as milk comes out the human’s nose and he giggles uncontrollably.

“Ow, ow, heeh, oh g-goodness, I’m s-sorry I, I just haven’t laughed in so long, ugh, there’s milk on my shirt-”

“Guess you’re gonna need to shower now too.”

“Nono, I can just change-”

Duck waves the bills back and forth, “Uh uh, if you want me to actually put these in the mailbox, you gotta agree to shower.”

“But that’s changing the terms!”

“Demon.” Duck grins.

“Very well. Let me finish my dinner first.” Indrid scarfs the rest of the cereal, pads back towards the bedroom while Duck cleans the table. He waits to hear water running before going to the mailbox. When he gets back he sticks his head into the steamy bathroom.

“I’m gonna go now.”

“Oh, alright. Thank you again.” Indrid pokes his head out from the shower curtain and Duck resists the temptation to make the whole barrier disappear just for a peak. What can he say? He’s always liked his humans a bit unique looking.

He draws a special sigil in the steamed-up mirror and heads for home.

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

Indrid sets the candle on the table, lights it, adds the symbol he found in the mirror, and then starts unpacking his groceries.

“Lookit you doin’ chores.” The whiff of burnt pine needles accompanies Duck’s voice and draws the tension from Indrid’s shoulders.

“I’ll have you know I swept today as well.” Indrid turns and crunches the bag of potato chips in his fists; Duck hasn’t put his horns or claws away, and his shirt is half unbuttoned.

“Caught me while I was gardenin, which is why I ain’t as put together as normal. What can I do for you?”

“This may sound strange but, ah, what is the fee for just talking with you?”

Duck’s eyebrows shoot up and then he chuckles, “You’re full of surprises, little moth.”

Indrid touches the luna moth on his shoulder; how much had Duck studied him when he was here? Did he like what he saw? Does he give everyone he makes deals with nicknames that come out in a drawl like summer honey?

“Hows a little nibble of the old soul sound?”

“I accept. Ah, would you like some cookies? A friend of mine brought them over to me.”

“Sure. The fella on the fridge bring ‘em?” The demon indicates the picture of himself and Barclay, the one he can’t bring himself to throw away.

“No. My friend Dani, she’s in charge of the gardens for the little co-op in town and when the bakery has seconds she often drops them off for me.”

He really needs to stop staring at Duck’s chest, even demons probably find ogling rude. Duck’s eyes--one blue, one brown-- catch his own and suddenly claw tips are undoing the remaining buttons. Indrid goes pink but manages to get the cookies and two glasses of water on the table without incident.

“You know, you never told me why you stayed a duck for so long.”

“It’s the least demonic thing you’ve ever heard but, uh, I just thought it was nice. Bein’ out in the woods, paddlin’ on the lake and watchin the world go by. Sleepin under the stars. Just makes you feel like you’re part of somethin’ bigger than yourself. Now, I got a question for you; why go to all the trouble of summonin’ me just to do your chores?”

Indrid bites his lip, “I knew I was in the kind of mental place where I could not manage it myself. And it felt safer to ask you than to ask my friends. Not that they wouldn’t help me. It’s just, when my mind is like that it turns so inward I can’t conceive of a world that might contain things for me.”

The demon says nothing for a moment, sips his water with a thoughtful look. Then he sets down the empty glass, “Glad you’re feelin a little better.” He tilts his head to indicate the sketch on the counter, “that new?”

“Yes” excitement bubbles up in his chest, “I was reading about--ah, well, it’s, it’s sort of a long story, I don’t want to bore you.”

Duck kicks his feet up on the spare chair and gestures for him to continue. So he does, tells the demon about reading every book he could find on the mythology and folklore of the Mexico and the American southwest, about his new inspiration for a series of drawings, his worries that no one will like them or purchase them and he’ll be stuck running his little psychic side business until he dies

Duck, in turn, tells him about life as a forest demon, about his hellcat, and about the fact he routinely comes up to the human world for french onion soup because the stuff made in his realm never tastes right. When Indrid next looks at the clock, it’s well after midnight.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”

“No complaints here. But I oughta get home and feed Winnie before she shreds my cabinets again.” The demon stands, rounding the table, “gotta get my fee first.”

“Right. How should I…” Indrid stiffens as Duck bends forward, wondering if the sharp teeth that smiled at him all night are about to pierce his skin.

Warm lips meet his forehead and he sighs at the tenderness in the gesture. Duck, however, moans as he pulls back, then quickly covers his mouth.

“Uh, that, that’s a totally, uh, totally not, uh, un-normal reaction, uh, fuck, see you around.”

He’s gone with a campfire crackle, leaving Indrid to wonder how a demon can be such a terrible liar.

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

“Sweet fuckin hell.” Duck gasps as his living room forms around him. His lips still tingle from kissing the human’s forehead, from the sheer force of the want and yes that came when he took that sip of soul. It’s never like that, never comes so willingly and eagerly, like the soul is searching for someone to look after it.

Technically, there’s nothing stopping him from zipping right back up there and pinning Indrid to his bed while he takes what the human seems so happy to give.

Duck takes five deep breaths, then ten, and then goes to retrieve Winnie from the cabinet she clawed her way into.

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

When Barclay suggested Indrid find someone to confide in, Indrid’s going to guess he didn’t mean, “routinely invite a demon into your house to play cards or listen to music.”

Most times, Indrid isn’t even summoning him; they have two standing dates a week, plus a game night with Dani and her new girlfriend, Aubrey (who Duck seems to know but refuses to say more about how). Duck will sometimes drop by unannounced, and he hardly ever collects a fee these days. When he does, it’s always a taste of Indrid’s soul, taken via a kiss on the cheek.

Indrid would let him take it any way he wanted. He’s well past denying the fact Duck is type in all his forms, that he’s gentler than most humans, and that he’s so charming Indrid would eat out of his hand.

Duck even goes out with him, like the boyfriend he wishes he had. When he puts on his human form to accompany Indrid around town, he radiates enough residual, demonic energy that the people who normally make Indrid’s life a living hell stay far, far away. In fact, tonight is the first night in months he’s had something close to a disaster, and it was mostly an accident. He’s peeling his beer-soaked shirt over his head when he feels mis-matched eyes on his back.

“Have a little too much fun bartendin’ tonight?” Duck holds out his hand, rendering the shirt fresh and clean when it touches his palm.

“Some caveman hit on one of our regulars and would not back off when asked. She threw a full pint of beer on him and I happened to be standing right behind him when she did.” He wiggles out of his jeans, let’s Duck give them the same treatment he gave the shirt, “ugh, I need a bath, I smell like Rheingold.”

“Allow me.” Duck waves his hand and steam wafts from the bedroom, goes into it and grabs the bubble bath from under the sink as Indrid follows him in his underwear. Duck’s constant glancing at his crotch and legs makes him bold.

“What’s the fee for such excellent service?”

“No fee, little moth. I’m just doin’ a favor for my friend.”

“And what if your friend wants to repay you anyway?”

When the demon looks up from the tub, his eyes are glowing, “Only if he’s doin’ it because he wants to and not because he owes me.”

“I want to, so very badly.”

In a flash Duck is in the tub, beckoning Indrid to join him. Indrid tests the water with his finger just to be safe.

“Mmm, nice and warm.”

“Hellfire, sugar. Now get your cute ass into the tub or--oh fuck yeah.” Duck growls as Indrid strips and climbs in with him, drags him into his lap and traces his claws up his sides while Indrid yanks him into a kiss.Curious, Indrid reaches one hand up to rub the base of his horn, the dark brown curls like smooth bark beneath his fingers.

“Fuuuck” Duck groans, “feels like gettin a back-rub.”

“Then I better keep at it. Oh, oh my” Indrid sits back to admire the vines of green appearing in Duck’s skin, “you’re absolutely beautiful.”

“Kinky little thing, you like that I’m a demon.” Duck scrapes his teeth along Indrid’s shoulder, “that really why you summoned me? You were hopin I’d have my, uh, demonic way with you?”

“N-no, I, I, it’s no secret I’m attracted to you but I, you make me feel so happy, I’m so safe when I’m with you, and, and if all your care and affection towards me has been part of some malevolent plan please, please just tell me because I, I think I’m falling in love with you.” He kisses Duck with far more force than before, forestalling the inevitable confession that this was all just a game for his soul and his own, pathetic admission that he’s not sure that changes anything.

“Oh, sugar” Duck keeps brushing their lips together as he speaks, “First time I tasted your soul I knew I was fucked. Knew I wanted to keep seein’ you, even if you never gave me another goddamn thing.”

Indrid buries his face in Duck’s shoulder, letting out shuddery sighs as Duck pets his back. He’s never leaving this spot, Duck is just going to have to carry him about while he does his infernal business and his housekeeping.

“Tell me what you want, little moth.” Duck kisses the shell of his ear. It still tingles, even when his soul stays put.

“Please fuck me? Oh! Oh that’s very efficient and extremely strange.” He squirms in Duck’s lap as his ass turns slick and stretched, like someone has pulled four fingers from it.

“Do it the traditional way some other time” The curved head of a cock bumps his ass, “you wanna feel just to be sure you can take it?”

He flails in the water a moment, finds a warm, responsive shaft with four, bumpy ridges leading to the head. It’s no bigger than the one toy he splurged on during his last trip to the city.

“Yes, certainly, oh, oh, AHHhnnnn yes.” The cock is hotter than his body as it slides in and he wonders if it will just melt him from the inside out, if Duck’s cum will be just as warm, how it will feel on his tongue and down his throat when he drags the demon into his bed.

“That’s it sugar, take it all the way. Fuck, been jerkin off to the thought of you on my dick for months.”

“Nnngh” Is his eloquent reply, the ridges of Duck’s cock making his toes curl and his fingers dig into Duck’s skin.

“You like that idea, little moth? Knowin I could be out temptin anyone I wanted to and instead I was in bed thinkin’ about you?”

“Mhhmmm” He whines, the desire pouring off the demon wrapping around him and soothing his insecurities.

Duck slows the thrusts of his hips and his voice is gentle when he whispers, “Course I did; no one can compare to you, ‘Drid.”

“Ohgod, Duck, please, please, please, want to be yours, always yours-”

“Careful,sugar, that sounds like you’re anglin’ for an infernal marriage.”

“A, a what? OHhhhnnyes” He moans as claws knead his ass.

“It’s a special kind of deal where a human agrees to marry a demon. Soon as they’re dead, they go straight to their spouse, no other options provided.” Duck cups his face, holding it steady so he can look into his eyes, “but there ain’t no need for that right now; way I see it, we can do this like we were just two normal fellas for now.”

“But it sounds fun.” Indrid offers a teasing pout and gets an adoring kiss in return.

“Yeah? What if I tell you a lot of demons mark their spouses by piercing these” He pinches Indrid’s nipples, the pain making him bounce more determinedly on his dick. His demon growls, drops one hand down to thumb at the head of his aching cock, “pierce here too. Won’t even do it in public like you’re supposed to; do it at home so no one else will see just what a sweet, needy thing you are for me--whoah, fuck, did not expect you to cum just from playin with this nice dick a little.”

“V-very sensitive” Indrid gasps against the green swirls in Duck’s shoulder, his orgasm such a surprise he’s still registering it, hips twitching and tongue threatening to loll out of his mouth.

“Keep that in mind for next time. Might even bring a cage so you don’t cum too early and spoil my plans. Now, hold tight, little moth.”

Indrid clings to the warm bulk of Duck’s body as his cock pounds up into him, the demon easily holding his hips up and his ass open so all he can do is whimper and writhe on it. When he cums it’s hot enough that Indrid squirms

“Don’t hurt does it?” Duck pets his sides, concerned.

“Nono, it, it’s nice, just very strange.” Indrid winces as Duck pulls out, watches him wave his fingers to clear away the mess. When the demon makes no move to let go, Indrid looks up, “you really meant what you said? About wanting me as a boyfriend?”

“Damn right I do. Now c’mere, lemme get the beer outta your hair.”

Indrid hums as Duck scrubs his scalp and runs warm water over his skin, talking all the while about how they should go camping as a first date so no one will bother them, says he’ll even turn into a duck to make Indrid smile.

Indrid says he knows just the spot, let’s his boyfriend dry them off and bundle them to bed and then, for the first time, falls asleep with a devil in his arms.

#indruck #promptober #indrid cold/duck newton #Demon AU #monster boyfriend

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caspianjames · 3 years

Text

BONUS Up And Coming: Julie and the Phantoms

Up and Coming: Julie and the Phantoms Jennifer McCreedy, Junior Correspondent

On this month’s issue of Up and Coming I had the privilege of sitting down with one of America’s biggest up and coming bands, Julie and the Phantoms. Julie Molina (17), Reggie Peters (18), Alex Mercer (17), and Luke Patterson (17) began rapidly gaining popularity as YouTube stars last fall. They created music videos for songs they wrote themselves, editing them to appear as if the band were ghosts “popping in” behind Julie. Don’t understand what I mean? You can click here to check it out for yourself!

The band has a strong air of camaraderie, and it’s the first thing I notice when I walk into the room with them. They’re all piled on our big interview couch, Molina and Mercer are pressed together whispering. Patterson is bantering with Peters and flicks him in the forehead. They’re like any group of teenagers bordering on adulthood, excited and eager to please. It’s immediately apparent that to all of them, the band has a deep meaning of friendship and support.

Of course, the first topic of conversation was about the band - what inspired the structure of their music videos, how they got their name, and which came first - the ghost music videos or the ghost band!

“Since my mom died, my brother has really been into ghosts,” Molina explained to me. “It was actually his idea for the band to pop in like that. My dad does videography as his job, so he was able to help us film and edit. My best friend, Flynn Taylor, came up with the band name.”

The boys all laugh when I ask if they liked the name right away or if there were discussions before they went public with it. “Flynn doesn’t do discussions,” Mercer smiles at Julie like there’s an inside joke there. There probably is, seeing how close these four are. “They came up with the name and made us posters, Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter before even asking us what we thought.”

“We loved it,” Peters is quick to jump in. “And we love Flynn. She knew we’d like it, or they wouldn’t have gone ahead with everything.”

Flynn Taylor, Julie’s best friend, doubles as the band manager - she is on tour with them, but opted not to be present for the interview.

Since beginning their tour with Panic! At the Disco, all their videos have amassed over one million views each on YouTube and their music has been released on Spotify with startlingly quick success. Molina, I discovered, is actually the newest member of the band, although I would never have known from watching the four bandmates interact. She is also the youngest by a year, having just had her seventeenth birthday as the boys are all turning eighteen, but she holds herself with a quiet confidence that all the boys seem to look to. Even this early into the interview they defer to her to answer questions and look to her for reactions to their own answers.

This made it especially surprising to find out that the band existed before Julie joined it, just under a different name. Sunset Curve. Clearly, it did not have the popularity that Julie and the Phantoms has even a few months into their creation. “We played a couple school shows and stuff,” Patterson told me, “but nothing clicked until we met Julie.” Luke Patterson carries a humming energy with him that comes across in his words. In true rocker fashion, he struggles to sit still, tapping his fingers on his thighs and softly bouncing on the couch.

Unsurprisingly, Molina used similar words to describe the band’s first meeting. “The first time I sang with them at school we just clicked,” she says, smiling at Luke.

Of course, given their success, I had to ask the question everyone wants to know. How did they end up opening for Panic! At the Disco, despite being relatively unknown outside the Los Angeles music scene previous to their debut at The Orpheum?

“We’ve seen some wild theories,” Mercer confides to me with a small smile on his face. He is arguably the most subdued of the group and generally seems content to watch his bandmates answer my questions. Don’t be fooled, though - not only is he a phenomenal drummer, he also sings backup vocals for Julie and the Phantoms. “My favouirte theory was one that caught a lot of steam on Twitter about us using ‘ghost powers’,” he adds air quotes with his hands and laughs, “to hide the scheduled opener’s tour bus and then pop into the venue in their place at the time they were supposed to perform.”

The whole band laughs at this - clearly it is a favourite theory amongst them. Peters adds, though, that it was clearly an unfounded theory given that “Julie doesn’t have any ghost powers, anyways. That’s why it’s Julie and the Phantoms. But I’d kill for ghost powers in real life.” When I ask what he’d use them for, though, he seems stumped. “I think it would just be cool to walk through walls.” We’re with you on that one, Reggie!

But what actually did happen to get them into the coveted opening spot at The Orpheum? Molina gives me a modest smile when I ask. “We were honestly just in the right place at the right time,” she explains.

Patterson picks up the story from there with a little bit more flair, telling me that the opening band had actually gotten food poisoning - “from a street dog vendor, believe it or not” - and the manager of the Orpheum happened to be familiar with the Julie and the Phantoms YouTube page.

“Since we were local,” Peters explains, “It was just a phone call. And then suddenly we were on stage doing a proper professional soundcheck for the first time in our lives.”

“Everything moved so fast after that,” Patterson adds. Each of his bandmates nod in agreement as he speaks. “We blinked and we were on a tour bus, suddenly.”

It seems that the band is handling the change well, though.

“It’s definitely different,” Molina tells me. “We have to be responsible for our own school and make sure we’re turning in assignments on time. There’s a lot of driving and a lot of time to kill. We can get on each other’s nerves quite a bit, but there’s always a lot of time for songwriting, too.”

When I prompt her about who gets on who’s nerves, the whole band turns in tandem to look at Luke. He laughs and shrugs at me. “I’m an early riser,” he explains. “I like music in my hands twenty-four seven. I always have my guitar, but it isn’t always appreciated.”

“We’ve had to compromise,” Mercer says with a long-suffering sigh. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was the oldest of the group. “Luke isn’t allowed to start playing music until eleven in the morning the day after a show.”

As for being on tour with Panic!, none of them seem all too bothered by the fame of the headliners. “They’re really cool,” Peters explains to me. “They’ve been doing this a long time and they always have advice for us which I think we really value right now.”

Otherwise, though, the band seems to keep to themselves. When asked about their favouirte hobbies, Peters speaks at length about Star Wars. “I can’t watch the prequels before bed,” he says. His bandmates groan and shake their heads, although he seems unbothered. “Jar-Jar gives me nightmares.”

Other than Star Wars, “We try to make sure we get time and space for ourselves every day,” Molina says. “It’s a lot of us in a small space, and if we don’t get away from each other for a bit we argue a lot more.”

When I ask each of them who their favourite bandmate is to live with, all the boys say Julie and then turn expectantly for her answer. “I suppose Flynn doesn’t count as a bandmate,” she said with a sigh. “Probably Alex, but we live together normally so it’s not something that’s new.”

Mercer confirms this piece of information with a nod and a smile. “I prefer sharing a room with your brother to sharing a bus with you, though,” he says to Julie. She just rolls her eyes.

When pushed, Mercer elaborates a little bit. “I’ve been living with Julie’s family for my senior year. It’s a better environment for me and is much closer to our school than where I lived. My parents are happy that it gives me more time to focus on school.”

Since I have Mercer’s attention now, I ask him a question I’ve been dying to know the answer to. Does he know what a role model he is to gay and questioning children and teens that get to see him be himself so publicly?

As all the boys have been doing, he looks to Julie before answering. “I don’t think about it much, to be honest,” he says candidly. “If people think I’m a role model then I’m glad, but I’m just me. And being gay is part of me, a part of me that’s always been completely accepted by my band, just like my drumming or my singing.”

There was no tension, the band members explain, upon finding out about Alex’s sexuality. “No one was surprised when Alex came out,” Patterson adds. “We were only, like, twelve when he came out to us, anyway. It’s just a fact about who he is. Like, Alex is gay and hates mornings and I play the guitar and love mornings and we’re best friends.”

“Plus, I’m bisexual,” Peters adds, “So it would be hypocritical to have a problem with Alex.”

“I’m pansexual,” Patterson pipes up again. “And Alex being himself helped me figure out that part of myself.”

Molina doesn’t seem to have much to add. “Alex was already out when I met him,” she says. “It was never a surprise and someone’s sexuality shouldn’t be something that causes tension or makes people upset anyways.”

When I point out that it has seemed to cause some tension among fans, they all sigh. For unaware readers, the band has been stirring up quite the debate on Twitter and Instagram amongst fans and haters alike as to who is dating who. Patterson and Molina confirmed their relationship before going on tour and have been dating since before their band became popular. Recently, a Twitter user attending a Julie and the Phantoms meet and greet noted the closeness between Molina and Peters, causing fans to speculate that Molina is cheating on Patterson with Peters. When I ask if they'd like to address it, however, they all nod.

“Luke and I have been dating for a few months,” Julie says, “very happily. Neither of us have cheated on each other, nor would we ever. But we’re both also dating Reggie.”

When I ask for clarification, Peters adds, “I’m dating Luke and Julie, just like Julie is dating me and Luke and Luke is dating Julie and me.” Although it doesn’t sound clear, it does seem to be clear for them.

“We’d like people to give us our privacy, although we know that probably won’t happen,” Molina says. “We’re allowed to define our own relationships in the way that works for us, we don’t have to hold them up to anyone else’s expectations or preconceived notions of what a relationship should look like.”

When I ask if there’s anything they’d like to add before we wrap up, Patterson pipes up with a confident “Yes.”

“We’re Julie and the Phantoms,” he says, prompting Peters to follow up with “Tell your friends!”

Tell your friends, indeed. You can find Julie and the Phantoms everywhere that Panic! At the Disco is playing for the next four weeks.

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@screamin-amuseum @angelwiththeblue-box @defultuser @peter-parkerson @willex-molina @thedepthsofhell @themongosianhorse @theamd426 @k-padfoot39 @wholitzukoonfire @invisibleraven @williesskateboard @leodolphin @moss-on-a-tree15

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #jatp smau #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #alex mercer #flynn taylor #flynn lolastname #willie nolastname #jukebox #rukebox #juke #ruke #flarrie #willex

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marauders-venting · 3 years

Note

Hi,, I read your posts,, and they were all sooooo amazing!! I just loved them. That's why I wanna ask if you will write prompt for me. Prompt: Remus/ Sirius first date. Both of them are nervous, and share the reason of their nervousness with lily and James. Sirius/ Remus is nervous because he is preparing for the date. While other is nervous about looks or other stuff. And then how the date goes...,, English is not my mother tongue so, pardon me if their are some errors. <3

The Last Chance

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: fluff

warnings: hints at death

words: 3865

note: i wrote this with @ probably_wizardingworld_art on instagram. I wrote the part with remus and lily and she wrote sirius and james and we wrote the rest together. they came up with the title too.

a/n: hi! thank you so much that makes me so happy :D! this is my first prompt so im very excited. i actually had a lot of fun writing this so if you guys want to send me requests/prompts i'd be glad to try write some of them (you can send the request on tumblr or instagram)! anyway sorry this took me so long to get to but i hope you like the result! :)

Sirius was nervous, which didn’t happen often so they were pathetic at dealing with it. He needed to talk to James immediately or his head would probably explode or something. When he entered the common room they were lucky enough that Prongs was already there; he was talking to Lily, but that didn't matter right now. He walked up to them and slightly tapped James onto the shoulder, making him jump a little.

“Hey James, can I talk to you for a moment?” Sirius asked nervously, fidgeting around with one of their many rings.

“Of course Pads,” James said. He seemed a bit concerned because Sirius Black was rarely that unconfident, especially when there were people around. “Wanna go onto the roof for it?” Too tense to give a proper answer Sirius just nodded. James gave Lily an excusing look and the two boys went up to their dorm, climbed out of the window and onto the rooftop.

“Okay Padfoot, tell me what's bothering you,” James requested softly. Sirius took a deep breath before he managed to start talking at least two times as fast as usual.

“I know it's silly and I know I'm probably already bothering you enough with this stuff but… you know our graduation is only a week from now and everyone is asking someone out? I wanna ask Moony out but I'm hella nervous about it and I don't know what to do…”

“I can tell,” James muttered quietly. Not quietly enough though, as Sirius still punched his arm slightly and called him an “insensitive idiot”.

Picking up the original issue, Prongs said, “Pads, we both know you've been wanting to ask him out for at least a whole year now and I also know you always kept saying you would do it next time. But Sirius, just in case it's not clear to you, there isn't gonna be a next time. No next weekend at Hogsmeade, nothing; this is our graduation Sirius, it's your last chance to do it. Don't let it slip like all the others. Ask him to go to the dance with you; you would regret it if you didn’t.”

James was right of course, this was his last chance but that made it even worse to him. There wouldn't be enough time after this to fix the friendship when Remus wouldn't want to go to the dance with him.

“For two years actually. But Prongs… what do I do when he says no? What if he doesn't like me this way? Our friendship would become weird and there would barely be time to fix it. I don't wanna ruin everything y'know?” They tried to explain his fear to the other boy.

“Well, if he says no you can still act as if you wanted to go as friends, can't you?” he shrugged. “Even if I can't see why he should say no. It won’t be much of a surprise when Moony likes you the same way you like him, honestly.”

“And if he will refuse because well, we're two boys and there are a lot of people and dammit we both know he hates getting a lot of attention. Do you think people would stare at us? Not that I’d mind, of course, just thinking about Moony there.” They knew the anxious tone of their voice betrayed his words, but he wouldn't admit that.

“You wouldn’t be the only ones though. Lily told me that Marlene asked Dorcas out, so there’s no need to be worried about being THE gay couple. I don’t know why you think you’d be that interesting anyway.” James earned a stern look for this comment, but he just laughed at that, then added, “really Pads, you’re thinking too much; that’s not good for you.”

“Okay… I will do it. I can do that. Totally not scared anymore. And HOW the fuck am I gonna do this?” They hadn’t even given himself a moment to let the decision sink in and had already started panicking again. James seemed to find it hilarious though because he was laughing his head off.

“Sirius, calm down for fuck’s sake. If I managed to ask Lily out you can ask out Moony; he really isn’t that scary.”

“I never said Moony would be scary, arsehole.” He gave James a playful shove before he continued. “Besides, you definitely can't compare that! You and Lily are already dating, she would have been goin’ with you anyway. AND Moony would KILL me if I would make it a big, public thing like you did. Would definitely fit my attitude, but if I want him to say yes I’m not gonna do it like you.”

“Guess you're right about that. Maybe just ask him to talk in private then? If you won’t get it done until tomorrow, I solemnly swear I’m gonna lock you two up in our dormitory,” Prongs said, grinning mischievously.

“Bloody hell, Potter! You definitely WON’T do that, got it??” James just poked out his tongue at that.

“Don't worry about it too much mate, it's gonna be alright,” he assured him.

“Thanks for helping out Prongs,” Sirius spoke genuinely.

“Any time Padfoot.” The two lads climbed back into the dormitory. James went searching for Lily to continue their conversation. Sirius was alone in the room so he sat down on his bed and started thinking about what he wanted to say to Remus, just in case he would remember any of it when he actually had to ask him out.

---------

“So do you know who you’re going to the dance with?” Lily asked.

“No,” Remus said.

“Why not?”

“Well, it may have escaped your notice but we don’t all have boyfriends who’ve been in love with us for six and a half years,” Remus snapped.

“Geez,” Lily said. “I’m sorry I mentioned it.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Remus said. “It’s not you, I just… I’m kind of really dreading this dance.”

“What? Why?” Lily asked. “It’ll be fun.”

“No it won’t,” Remus said. “It’ll be really stupid and there will be a ton of people. I don’t know, I just don’t really want to go.”

“You’re not going?” Lily asked.

“I don’t know,” Remus said again. “Probably not.”

“What? No, Rem, come on. You have to come. it’s better than sitting in your room stressing yourself out about how you did on your N.E.W.Ts.”

“Why? It’s not like anybody will miss me. You’ll be with James. Marlene and Dorcas will be together. Peter’s probably going to ask that Hufflepuff girl to go with him and he’ll spend all night with her. And Sirius… Sirius won’t miss me. He’ll be with their date.”

“Who is Sirius going with by the way? Do you know?”

“No,” Remus said, sounding agitated again.

“Then how do you know he has a date?”

“Lils, it’s Sirius. Of course, he has a date. Literally, half the school is head over heels for them.”

“Does that half include you then?” Lily muttered under her breath.

“W–what?” Remus said.

“Nothing, nothing,” Lily sighed. “So you’re really not going?”

“I’d just be standing there alone in the corner. I’ll be even more awkward than usual.”

“You wouldn’t be alone, Remus. Do you really think we’d all ditch you just because we have dates? We’re still your friends.”

“Fair enough,” Remus said. “And thanks for the offer but as much as I would enjoy third-wheeling with you and James, it’s a hard pass.”

“Come on, Remus, there must be somebody you want to ask to the dance,” Lily insisted.

“No,” Remus muttered. “There isn’t anybody I want to go with.” But the blush on his cheeks gave him away.

“Remus, you’re a horrible liar,” Lily said. “Now spill the secret. Who do you want to ask?”

“Nobody!” Remus insisted, but his blush only deepened. “There’s no secret!”

“You know you can tell me anything, Remus. Don’t you trust me with your secret? We’ve been best friends for seven years.”

“Which is exactly why I know not to trust you with my secret,” Remus said.

“Aha! I knew there was a secret!” Lily said. “Come on, just tell me.”

“You’ll laugh at me,” Remus said. “You’ll say I’m ridiculous for suggesting it.”

“No I won’t,” Lily said. “Rem, I swear on my life, I won’t. Just tell me.”

“Fine,” Remus swallowed. “Sirius.”

“I knew it!” Lily yelled. “I fucking knew it!”

“Keep your voice down!” Remus said.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I knew it though.”

“Great, I’m a bad liar, you proved your point,” Remus said. “Now do you see why I would be going to the dance alone?”

“No, actually, I do not,” Lily said. “You want to ask Sirius to the dance so ask him to the dance.” Remus snorted.

“Yeah, right.”

“What?”

“Lily, if I ask Sirius to the dance one of two things is going to happen. One, they’ll assume I mean as friends and I’ll look like a complete idiot. Two, they’ll turn me down and then everything will get awkward and he’ll hate me and if that happens I might just die.”

“Oh calm down, Remus,” Lily said. “You accuse Sirius of being a drama queen all the time but you’re just as bad. First of all, Sirius would never hate you—”

“You don’t know that,” Remus said.

“Yes I do,” she insisted.

“How?” he asked skeptically, crossing his arms.

“Remus, a friend who undergoes a long and complex magical transformation for the sole purpose of helping you, is not going to hate you just because you have a crush on them.” He had to admit that Lily was making a pretty good point.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t be awkward,” Remus pressed.

“You know, Remus, I actually think they might like you,” Lily said. Remus laughed but even he could hear that it sounded bitter and forced.

“Lily, please,” Remus said. “Maybe he won’t hate me but they definitely do not like me. Not the way I like him.”

“Why not?” Lily said. “I was right about you liking him, wasn’t I? So who is to say that I’m not right about them liking you?”

“Lils, have you seen Sirius? He’s way out of my league. They literally have no reason to look at me like that.”

“Remus, you do not give yourself enough credit, honestly,” Lily sighed. “So how long have you liked them?”

“Since the start of fifth year,” Remus said, not meeting her eye.

“That’s almost three years,” she said.

“It is,” Remus sighed, still not looking at her.

“Remus,” Lily started, “I really think you should talk to him.”

“Lily—”

“No, Remus, listen. Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Bitch,” Lily said, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Kidding,” Remus grunted.

“So talk to him,” she insisted. Remus hesitated.

“What if he already has a date?” he asked.

“Ask them,” Lily shrugged.

“And if they do?”

“Hmm I think you know exactly what you’re going to do if Sirius already has a date and you don’t need my advice at all so I would like to propose the alternative,” Lily said. “What if he doesn’t have a date?”

“I—” Remus buried his face in his palms, “I don’t fucking know.”

“Hey,” Lily said, gently. “It’s ok. Everything will be ok, regardless of what happens, Remus. I promise.”

“I don’t want to lose him,” he said, quietly.

“You won’t,” she said. “Remus, look at me.” He did. “You won’t. You know it as well as I do. You won’t lose him, no matter what.”

“Ok,” Remus sighed. “So I guess I’m asking Sirius Black to the dance.” He felt a flutter in his stomach as he said it. He was really going to do it.

“I guess you are,” Lily said, smiling.

---------

Remus walked into the dorm and found himself alone with Sirius, who looked up as he came in.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi.” Ask him, said a voice in his head. Lily’s voice. It was his chance; the dorm was empty, it was just the two of them. He needed to stop putting this off.

“So, um… do you have a date to the dance yet?” he asked timidly.

“Nope,” Sirius said, looking back at the floor. “Do you?”

“No,” Remus replied. “So the Sirius Black doesn’t have a date to the dance yet?” Remus added, trying to relax. Just talk, he told himself, just talk to him like you normally would.

“How’d that happen?” Sirius shrugged.

“I don’t know,” they said. “I just didn’t really fancy any of the people who asked me.”

“Is… is there someone you wanted to ask yourself?” Remus asked, heart racing in his chest. Sirius hesitated a moment before answering.

“Yes,” he said slowly.

“So why didn’t you?”

“Same reason as anybody, I suppose. I didn’t want to be turned down.”

“Pfft like anybody would turn you down,” Remus said.

“I will ask him, though.”

“When?”

“Within the next five minutes probably. What about you? Why don’t you have a date?” Well, here it goes.

“I’m hoping to,” Remus said. “Soon enough.” Maybe it was his imagination but Remus thought he saw the spark leave Sirius’ grey eyes, the smile faltering slightly on his lips.

“So who’s the lucky lad or lady who’s swept you off your feet?” Sirius asked. Suddenly some gusto of bravery possessed Remus and he took a step towards Sirius.

“Well, you know them,” he said.

“Do I, now?”

“Yep,” Remus said. “He’s in this room right now.” Sirius’ eyes darted in every direction but found Remus again when they realised that there was nobody there but the two of them.

“Wait,” Sirius said, realisation growing in his eyes. “Are—are you trying to ask me to the dance?” Remus gave a small nod.

“That,” he said, “and tell you that I… I’ve liked you for a long time now.”

“No, no, no, you can’t do that,” Sirius said. Remus ducked his head, feeling the tears filling his eyes. He knew it would end like this. It was stupid to cry when this was exactly what he had expected. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Sirius, I’m so, so sorry. I never meant—”

“I was just about to ask you to the dance!” Sirius said. “You totally stole my moment!”

“I— what?” Remus said, looking up. “You… you were going to ask me to the dance?”

“Yes, I’ve been trying to all day,” Sirius said. “But I kept stalling until James told me to suck it up and just do it already.”

“Wait, I— wha— I’m so confused,” Remus said, trying to get a hold of the situation.

“You… you wanted to ask me to the dance?”

“Yes, Remus,” Sirius said, taking his hand in their own. “I wanted to tell you that I… I’ve had a crush on you since we were like fifteen and… nothing would make me happier than to go to this dance with you.”

“Really?” Remus asked.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, wiping the tears out of Remus’ eyes with his thumb. “But then you got there first.”

“Maybe next time try to be a little bit faster then,” Remus laughed.

“Fine,” Sirius said, grinning. And then before he knew it, Remus was being kissed by Sirius Black. Sirius had closed the gap between them, kissing Remus firmly on the lips. And for a moment, Remus couldn’t breathe. Because this was too good to be true. Far, far too good. Sirius wanted to go to the dance with him. And he wanted to go to the dance with Sirius. He was going to the dance with Sirius. He’s kissing Sirius right now.

---------

For the fifth and last time, Remus checked his reflection in the mirror. It hadn’t changed within the last few minutes of course, but he was nervous, really nervous.

“Calm down Remus, you look good.” It was James. He had just come out of the bathroom, finally wearing his suit too.

“Really Moony, you’re worrying too much,” Peter assured him.

All of them had decided to wear a simple, black suit but somehow they’d still managed to look completely different. Maybe it was the fact that James was wearing a normal tie, Peter was going for a bow tie and Remus himself had just left open the top two buttons of his shirt. Remus didn’t know what Sirius was going to wear, as they dressed with the girls to avoid Remus seeing him in his outfit before he was supposed to.

In less than a minute James and Remus were supposed to meet their dates in the Gryffindor common room so the three boys decided to get down there and wait for them.

As soon as they reached the common room the door of the girls’ dormitory swung open and Lily started walking down the stairs in a beautiful, emerald green, backless dress, followed by Sirius and Marlene.

Remus thought he’d faint when he saw Sirius’s outfit. He was wearing a DRESS. And they looked absolutely stunning in it. The dress was a beautiful dark blue and floor-length with a plunging V-neck and a split skirt, and he was wearing a goddamn underbust corset. It was breathtaking. He only noticed he’d been staring a bit long when Sirius was standing right in front of him, staring right back, lips slightly parted. They swallowed visibly before he said, “You look good Moony.”

His face was probably deep red, but somehow he still managed to say something.

“And you look absolutely marvellous in that dress.”

Was that possible? Sirius Black, blushing? Apparently, it was and it was cute.

They had to be at the Great Hall any minute now, so Remus took Sirius’ hand and they all started leaving the common room.

When they arrived at the Great Hall they saw that it had been entirely transformed for the event. The long house tables that were usually in the middle of the room were pushed against the walls and held a large variety of food, snacks and drinks, leaving the middle clear for students to dance. A big banner reading Class of ‘78 was strung against the back wall of the hall and there was music playing although where it was coming from remained a mystery.

Marlene and Peter spotted their dates already in the room and hurried to greet them.

“May I have this dance?” James asked Lily, kissing the back of her hand. Lily rolled her eyes but Remus noticed her blushing slightly.

“No, Potter, I came with you so that I could dance with somebody else,” she said sarcastically. “Of course you can have this dance. Come on.” And she dragged him onto the dance floor, leaving Remus and Sirius standing by the door.

“You wanna get something to drink?” Remus suggested, trying to delay the moment when he had to dance in front of everybody and make a fool of himself. Why had he come to this dance again?

“Yeah, sure,” Sirius said. They stood by the drinks table, drinking juice (yes, juice) and talking for a while but Remus saw Sirius looking wistfully at all the dancing people.

“You’re going to make me dance, aren’t you?” he said.

“Oh come on we have to dance a little,” Sirius said. “It is a dance after all.”

“But we both know that I cannot dance. Like at all.”

“Come on, babe, dance with me please,” Sirius pouted.

“Babe?” Remus said, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Um, I-I mean… uh…” Sirius stuttered, his cheeks flushed. They put their head on Remus’ shoulder, hiding his face. “Sorry.” Remus kissed the top of Sirius’ head, lingering to smell Sirius’ hair.

“Don’t be, I… I like it,” Remus said, blushing hard.

“You do?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah.”

“Ok. So will you dance with me?” Sirius asked hopefully. Remus hesitated a little before answering.

“Yeah,” he said. “I will.” And he took Sirius by the hand and pulled them into the center of the Great Hall.

Remus was right, of course. He could not dance. But he was trying. The more upbeat the songs were the more difficult but as soon as a slow song came on, Sirius wrapped him in their arms and took the lead, making it significantly easier to dance but also significantly harder to breathe.

Right now they were dancing in each other’s arms, swaying slowly to the music. Remus closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Sirius’.

“I love you, you know,” he said. “I’m in love with you.” Sirius stumbled on his feet and stopped moving.

“Really?” they asked. Remus froze, realising what he had said.

“Uh I–I mean…” Remus stuttered, “that depends, is this a good or bad reaction?”

“Good,” Sirius said, quietly. “The best.” And then he kissed Remus. There, in the middle of the great hall, in front of all their friends and all their classmates and all their teachers, Remus and Sirius stood, kissing each other like their lives depended on it, like they needed the other more than they needed oxygen. And at that moment, at that moment that Remus' lips connected with Sirius’, at that moment that Sirius slid their tongue into Remus’ mouth and pulled him closer, at that moment Remus didn’t have a care in the world. He didn’t care that people were watching, he didn’t care that he might fail his examinations, he didn’t care about the war waging outside the walls. All he cared about was Sirius and the feeling he had when they were together. As long as he had Sirius, nothing else mattered.

When they broke apart, Remus’ breaths were shallow. He held Sirius close, their foreheads pressed together, his arms around Sirius’ neck as Sirius’ hands cupped Remus’ face.

“I love you too,” Sirius whispered. He could’ve yelled it, could’ve made a scene. The whole room was watching them anyway. But this wasn’t just something for attention, Remus knew. Sirius meant it. They meant what he said. He really meant it.

“I thought you would hate me if you ever found out,” Remus said, not moving away.

“Well, then you’re an idiot,” Sirius said, “because I could never hate you. Not even if I tried.”

“Me neither,” Remus said. “I could never hate you either.” Remus knew it was true the moment he said it. But despite that, the universe decided to put him to the test. It was barely four years later when Remus was desperately trying to fall out of love with Sirius, to hate him. Because how could you love your best friend’s murderer? You shouldn’t. But apparently, he could. It took another twelve years for Remus to be able to admit that he had not hated Sirius. Not really. He thought back to the day he told Sirius that he could never hate them. He wasn’t lying that day. Remus was unsure of many things these days. Everything seemed rocky and unstable. Anything good could disappear at any moment and more often than not it did. But this he was certain of, without a shadow of a doubt: for as long he lived, he would be in love with Sirius Black. And nothing could change that.

34 notes · View notes

stormcrawler75 · 4 years

Note

if it hasn't been done yet (re the bad things happenbingo) could I ask for either amputation or damaged wing(s) with Remus please? I love what you've done with the prompts so far

Warnings: Amputation, hospitals, diseases, talk of surgery.

Characters: Remus, Patton, mentions of Roman, Logan, Virgil, and Janus.

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

Hospitals smelt like absolute, sterilized shit.

Remus couldn’t fucking stand hospitals. Just the smell alone made Remus want to stay far away from hospitals for his entire life. Like, Remus got it. The people who worked there saved lives and the world would probably die without them. But Remus really hated hospitals. Maybe the problem was that they didn’t get enough money? Or that usually only shitty things happened at hospitals? Or maybe because of how many times Remus had been in one recently and he had only gotten shitty fucking news?

Whatever. No matter the reason, hospitals were still at the top of Remus’ shit list at the moment.

Plus, the gowns were itchy. Though, that might just be Remus’ opinion. He currently had one tied around in and was lying in a bed, waiting impatiently for the stupid kiddie clock - which was actually pretty cool because it was shaped like an octopus - hung on the opposite wall to hit three o’clock. Remus was so ready for this to be over with so he could go back home. Roman had promised to make whatever he wanted for dinner when Remus came back and Remus was so craving pancakes with cheese sauce.

Remus sighed and glanced over at his Dad, who was sitting next to him and reading a battered old Highlights magazine. “How much longer,” he whined, giving Patton his best pout. “We’ve been waiting here forever!”

“We’ve been waiting here for two hours, Sweetie,” Patton said gently, putting the magazine down on his knee. He glanced at the clock hanging opposite from them. “Well, it looks like you only got about twenty more minutes to go, Hon. Are you nervous?”

The question had been asked so many times by so many people lately that Remus could barely manage a scoff. “Me? Nervous? Nah, not at all! Hey, it’ll be pretty cool, if you think about it!” He forced a gasp and grabbed Patton’s wrist. “Do you think they’ll film it? Could I watch it later!?”

Patton laughed and shook his head fondly. “I don’t think so, Kiddo. But I’ll ask your doctor, okay? But if we do get it then no showing your siblings, okay? Especially don’t let Virgil catch you watching it, he would have nightmares for weeks. He’s already so worried about today.”

Remus’ jaw clenched at the memory of his two-year-old brother sobbing just a few hours ago and trying to cling to Remus’ hand. Virgil hated hospitals just as much as Remus and, unlike Remus, he didn’t have the maturity and wisdom that Remus had to understand why he hated them or remember just how long he had spent there as a baby. “He doesn’t have any reason to worry,” Remus spat, hating the pit of fear that was growing in his gut. “The doctors said that this is the best option for me and even if I’ll have to do therapy and stuff, I should be just fine.”

“Oh, Honey, he’s only a toddler, he doesn’t understand what’s happening,” Patton said gently, taking Remus’ hand and squeezing it. “All he understands is that his big brother is in pain and is going away to a scary place and is going to come back without one of his legs. He’s much too young to know what osteomyelitis is.”

“I’m fourteen and I don’t even fully understand what this stupid disease is,” Remus muttered, crossing his arms. So many people had tried explaining it to him and all Remus fully understood was that some stupid fungi had injected his right leg bone and they had caught it so late that amputation was the only option. “But I know that he shouldn’t be worried. It’ll be fine and he didn’t need to be crying so much. Logan and Roman weren’t crying.”

And, no, Remus wasn’t disappointed that Logan and Roman - old enough to understand what was happening - didn’t cry like Virgil had or looked worried. Not that there was any reason to be worried but it would’ve been nice for them to pretend to be worried!

Patton squeezed his hand again, looking down at him sympathetically. “Trust me, kiddo, they were crying plenty last night. Logan’s been looking up the operation ever since he learnt what you have and Roman is so scared about his twin. They were trying to be strong for you, that’s-”

“But there’s no reason to be worried,” Remus cried, throwing out his arms in frustration. “There isn’t, I’m going to be fine and there’s no reason for anyone to worry!” His eyes were filling with sudden tears and his jaw trembled with the force of keeping them back. “I-I’m gonna come home and annoy everyone a-and t-they don’t need to worry ‘bout me cause I am gonna be f-fine!” He sobbed and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, images of all the things that could go wrong flashing through his mind.

Arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him forward until he was leaning against his dad’s chest. “Shhh, shhhh, you’re okay, you’re going to be okay,” Patton cooed, rubbing a hand up and down Remus’ back. “You’re gonna be fine, kiddo.”

“They’re gonna take my leg,” Remus sobbed, gripping Patton’s shirt so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. “D-don’t let them take my leg, don’t let them, Papa!”

“Oh, Kiddo,” Patton sighed, resting his cheek on the top of Remus’ head and holding him close. “Sweetheart, I wish I could stop them from taking your leg. If I could, I’d take this infection and put it in my own leg so you wouldn’t have to lose yours. But I can’t, Sweetie, and I’m so sorry. And I know this is very scary but I’ll be right outside the room the entire time. And I’m going to buy you the best prosthetic that money can buy, I promise.”

Remus sniffled and he rubbed at his eyes, looking up at Patton sadly. “O-one with some design?”

Patton gave him a wobbly smile and nodded, kissing Remus’ forehead. “I’ll buy you two. A plain one and one with any design that you want on it. We’ll do it together, okay baby?”

“Okay,” Remus sniffled, leaning back against Patton and closing his eyes. “...How long now?”

“...Two minutes.”

Remus’ breath hitched and he fought back the urge to vomit. It’d be hilarious but then they’d have to wait even longer for this surgery to take place. “I’m scared,” he admitted softly. “I’m so scared, Papa.”

“I’ll be right outside the surgery room and I’ll be right there when you wake up,” Patton promised softly, sounding like he was holding back tears. It made Remus want to dig a hole in the ground and cry. He was making his Papa cry. “And as soon as the Doctors say you’re ready, we’ll go home and see your brothers and Uncle Janus, okay?”

Remus sniffled and nodded, wiping away the tears trailing down his cheeks.”Okay,” he whispered. He let out a shaky breath and forced a smile. “It’ll be okay.”

“Remus?” The two of them turned to see a Doctor and a Nurse waiting for them. “We’re ready for you.”

Remus glanced at Patton nervously and got a confident smile in return. “You’ll be okay,” Patton said, looking so sure that he might as well had been saying that the sky was blue. “I’ll be right next to you when you wake up, okay?”

“Okay,” Remus said softly, turning to the Doctor and Nurse. “I’m ready.”

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#Storm writes #tw Amputation #tw hospitals #tw diseases #tw talk of surgery #Remus Sanders #Patton Sanders #Roman Sanders #Logan Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Janus Sanders #Bad Things Happen Bingo #Anonymous

221 notes · View notes

colour-outside-the-liness · 3 years

Note

Lifeguard/lesbian cruise prompt: It's Dani's bachelor's party. Karen introduces her to the daughter of a friend from high school, Jamie Taylor, who works at the night club and would be - according to Karen - a best friend to Dani.

They talk in the bathroom about how Karen loves Jamie, what ends up being a revealing moment when Jamie asks if Karen would like her so much if she knows Jamie is gay. Things became tense, they end up kissing and they make out in a cabin. Dani kinda "wakes up" an runs after Jamie whispers:

"I wonder if Karen would love me if she knew I was fucking her daughter".

Dani avoids Jamie and gets married to Eddie, Jamie returns to England.

Dani's family and Eddie's are business partners in a cruise company. Eddie has to go in a travel but he doesn't want let Dani alone, so he asks her to go in 4 weeks cruise ship and meet him when it stops in Italy.

He tells her to invite Rebecca to go with her. Dani is confused of why he's doing all this - he's a jealous man, every time he has to travel, he manages things so she would be with someone he trusts (family, her mother). So why he's so comfortable with the idea of her going in a cruise where would man be there?

When Dani is finally in the cruise, she understands: it wasn't just a cruise. It was a lesbian cruise with 6,000 woman together.

In his mind, Eddie sent his straight wife to a lesbian cruise, no man around, no threat to his marriage. He never knew about Dani/Jamie and Dani believes this feeling for Jamie was a mistake, just a result of all the stress she was being through.

On the cruise, Becca is getting fun seeing Dani receiving so much attention from girls and Dani is trying to survive this and deny her feelings.

In their second day on the cruise, Becca and Dani talk with the Captain of the ship and she tells them about the new lifeguard and how girls are crazy to go to the pool just to be around her, how one girl just pretended she was downing just to be rescued by the lifeguard. Or trying to find her while she's on her day off.

Becca is curious to see the famous lifeguard, so she makes Dani put her bikini on and they go to the pool - Dani thinks there's no need of it, since the Captain said she invited the lifeguard to have dinner with them, so she could meet one of the faces behind the cruise company. But Becca insists.

Then Dani sees the lifeguard: the red swimsuit thin strap, small red shorts, the whistle hanging around her neck, the sunglasses. Jamie Taylor.

Bonus 1: Karen is a fan of Jamie. She thinks Jamie is perfect, but obviously doesn't know Jamie at all. She is the one who hired Jamie as lifeguard.

Bonus 2: Becca is gay.

Bonus 3: Jamie knows a lot of things about Dani because of Karen. Eg: about how she doesn't know how to swim and almost drowned. (Swim lessons?)

Bonus 4: "So you knew I was engaged and still kissed me? I'm not... I'm married now. To a man. Eddie. You just did that to make me confused..."

"Do u have any idea of how you're looking at me that day? I'll never forget that look on your face. I saw you at the day of your wedding, your mother invited me. I was curious to see you. You looked so... The white fancy dress, the veil, your blonde hair... I was mesmerized. You looked like a Queen. You remember the moonflower with the note "You look beautiful" they delivered to you in your car, when you're about to enter the church? It was me. I waited to see you entering the church and when you saw Eddie waiting for you... I didn't see that look on your face. I left when you said "Yes". I left knowing you would never look at him the way you looked at me. Why, Dani?

Bonus 5: "you're the fuckgirl type right? If not, you love all the attention the girls offer you during all day. There are 6,000 girls here. You won't have a problem finding one since so many of them want you"

"Not interested in... 5,999 of them"

"Leave. Please."

"Is that an order? Because the company belongs to your family. So it makes you my boss too. If I'm a problem to you, you can fire me. Just do it, Danielle. C'mon."

"Don't call me that."

"Danielle? I'll call you Danielle because it's that what you want people to see - including me. You're trying to convince me you're Danielle. Or it's just you trying to convince yourself that you're Danielle. Not Dani. I met Danielle when your mother introduced us. I saw Dani in that toilet cabin. I saw both. So just fire me, Danielle."

Ps: A lot of angst, but there are a lot of positive things you can add (if you like the prompt, of course), spa, sauna, dinners, etc.

I know I promised to not to send prompts anonymously, but I want to keep myself anon to others and this prompt was too much to send it in private message. It's enough for me to you to know who I am. 😘

I really love this idea and think it would make a great fic, thank you for sending it my way I will start planning this out so that I can write it when I have the time and have tied up some of my other fics!! I think there is so much potential for angst here and so much potential for soft stuff too and I really love this and I love how detailed this prompt it too!! I do know who you are and while you did say you would've send anymore anonymously I am 100% fine for you to send them this way and I promise to keep you anonymous as long as you want to be anonymous for!! Again thank you so much for sending this prompt to me I love it!! 💜

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yeah-klave · 3 years

Text

A Short History of What Happened - Chapter 5

Written, with love, for EnKlave Fest 2021.

Catch up with the story so far: Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4

Prompt: Omegas aren’t allowed to join the army, but then Omega!Klaus gets dropped into Vietnam and has to pose as a Beta. He manages quite well, right until he goes into heat. Alpha!Dave is protective and incredibly aroused/horny.

Genre: Omega verse, smut, developing relationships, slow burn, undercover, misunderstandings, secretly in love.

Word length: This chapter: 3.9k

Warning: Implied, canon-compliant abuse. Implied homophobia. Discussion of AU-specific political issues, including victim-blaming, gay-shame and dub-con medical procedures. The entire work, when posted, will contain explicit sexual content.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.

***************************************************************

They walked on in silence for a while.

Dave wasn’t quite sure why or how, but he felt more content in this moment than he had in months, years even. Maybe ever.

It was ridiculous. The man walking beside him was practically a stranger. A mystery; with secrets and a painful history and – quite possibly – more than a little darkness inside him.

Dave couldn’t explain it, but somehow, he still felt a… pull.

Perhaps Klaus did live in a world of shadows, but maybe Dave could turn on the light. Maybe Dave could be the light.

Dave heard a gentle inhale next to him and turned to see Klaus breathing deeply, his eyes closed and his heard tilted back slightly.

Dave faltered, was he… scenting the air?

Klaus’ lashes fluttered and he opened his eyes and caught Dave’s gaze. His irises were thin green disks around the dark pools of his blown pupils.

“Whaafght,” Dave stuttered.

Klaus blinked.

Dave composed himself, took a deep breath and started again.

“What,” Dave swallowed, thinking frantically and eventually grasping at the first coherent thought that came to him, “what kind of music do you like?”

Before him, a smile spread slowly across Klaus’ face and a twinkle lit up his eyes.

“Buckle up, David,” Klaus smiled, “I’m about to take you on a wild ride.”

And he did.

Dave hadn’t even heard of most of the songs Klaus listed off. In fact, he didn’t recognise them to all, even when Klaus sang bits aloud in a breathy, enthusiastic, but slightly off-key voice. Dave was feeling light and relaxed, but he didn’t start getting giggly until Klaus began adding the accompanying dance moves – a series of shimmies, little hip rolls and dramatic arm movements. Dave started laughing. And once he started, he found it really difficult to stop. The sound of Dave attempting to supress his giggling seemed to spur Klaus on because he just started hamming it up even more.

Dave tried to get himself under control a couple of times, glancing around nervously, aware of where they were. But the coast looked completely clear and then he’d look back at Klaus and the expression on his face would set him off again.

“I’ve never,” Dave wheezed between peals of laughter, “even heard of these songs. My favourite song is The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. Where you’re from must be much hipper than where I grew up.”

“Ohmigod, Dave!” Klaus choked, “Hip! You’re just too precious!”

“It means trendy or… happening,” Dave helpfully supplied.

Klaus’ faced creased and he doubled over in silent giggles.

“That’s perfect,” Klaus choked out, gasping for air, “absolutely spiffing! Completely ripping! Positively groovy!”

Dave didn’t quite get the joke, but grinned along with him.

“It must have been, though,” Dave bobbed his head earnestly. “We must be pretty out of touch with the cool music where I’m from.”

“Where’s that?” Klaus asked.

“Near Dallas,” Dave supplied.

“Ooh, a Southerner!” Klaus said. “So, Dave, are you more a smooth Southern gentleman or rough Texas cowboy?”

Dave paused. “Neither,” he said finally, “I’m just me. Just boring old Dave Katz. There’s nothing interesting about me. I’m just… a plain hamburger kind of a guy.”

Klaus looked at him steadily. “I don’t buy that at all,” he said. “There’s nothing plain hamburger about you, Dave.”

“Well,” Dave corrected himself. “Actually, my order would probably be plain hamburger with two pickles, if I’m being exact. And picky.”

“Exactly,” Klaus grinned. “See, just what I said! Flavour! Dave Katz likes to slip a bit of pickle in his hamburger!”

Klaus wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Dave coughed uncomfortably. This conversation was straying into dangerous territory.

“How do you take your hamburger, then?” Dave asked.

“I like a little pickle,” Klaus said. “Well actually, I like a big pickle. A big, hard pickle.” He waggled his eyebrows again and then did an adorable little two-eyed wink. Dave felt his cheeks heating up at the same time his heart clenched a little at the cuteness. “The cheese can go take a running jump, though,” Klaus added, “and it had better come with fries and ketchup or else heads will roll. To be honest though, hamburger probably wouldn’t be my first choice for favourite food.”

“What would be?” Dave asked, interested.

Klaus pondered. “I knew someone once who made amazing ossobuco, that was pretty good. And I’ve always had a sweet spot of doughnuts. My siblings and I used to…” Klaus trailed off.

Dave held his breath, but Klaus didn’t add any more. Dave chanced a glance sideways. Klaus had a distant, faraway look in his eyes.

Dave racked his brain for a change of topic.

“Have you ever read Dune?” he asked.

Klaus appeared to give himself a little shake.

“No,” he said, “what’s it about?”

“Well,” and with that, Dave launched into a monologue about his favourite ever book. As he talked, he saw Klaus’ eyes flitting over his face, smiling and nodding along. There was a warmth and fondness there that took Dave by surprise; an unguarded acceptance. The mutual respect of a new friendship. It made Dave feel giddy and drunk, a bubble of happiness growing inside him.

Dave was just wondering whether he should start telling Klaus about his interpretation of the ‘fear is the little death’ line, when he suddenly noticed in the distance, the location of the new camp they were travelling towards.

Reality hit him like a punch to the face.

He’d had all this time alone with Klaus to talk about the difficult things, the things they couldn’t speak about in front of the others and they’d wasted it on hamburgers and silly dance moves. In fact, he’d hardly got any answers to the multitude of questions that has been plaguing him since Klaus first arrived. They still had so many practical things they needed to discuss.

“Klaus,” Dave said, his voice low and urgent.

Klaus flinched and looked around quickly for the danger.

Guiltily, Dave backtracked.

“No. Sorry. It’s fine. It’s just, we’ve almost arrived and…” he paused, usure how to phrase the next bit. “There are still a few things we should probably talk about first.”

“Like what?” Klaus asked, his voice innocent and confused.

“Well…” Dave started slowly. “You know…” He looked at Klaus hopefully. Klaus looked back, nonplussed.

Dave shifted uncomfortably, then whispered. “You know… omega stuff.” He swallowed. “Like… how we’re going to mask your scent and keep you safe.” He shifted uncomfortably again. “And then there’s,” he gave an embarrassed little cough, “there’s your…. ummmm…” his cheeks were bright red now, “there’s your…” he looked down and finally mumbled, “your heats.”

“Oh,” Klaus said breezily. “No need to worry about that, I have the suppressor implant.” He waved Dave’s words off with a distracted flap of his hand. “And the IUD, too” he added as an afterthought. “With the scent thing, though, I thought you said the others were all betas? They won’t be able to smell me. Only alphas can smell omegas. And there’s just you, so I’m all good.”

Dave frowned, confused. “What do you mean implant?”

“The heat suppressor implant,” Klaus clarified. “I have been – almost exclusively – since I was in my teens.” His face darkened. “My dad made me. He didn’t trust me. I mean, it’s not like I wanted to get bonded to the first alpha that came along, or get myself knocked up at seventeen. But I would have liked the chance to masturbate my way through my heats in my locked bedroom like a normal teenage omega. What I really needed was a whack-off dildo. But, oh no! That’s not okay for Number Four. He had to have the medical implant instead.”

Dave frowned deeper, trying desperately to keep up.

“Are you saying,” he said slowly, “that you have something implanted in you that’s stops you going into heat?”

“Umm, yeah,” Klaus drawled, looking at him as though Dave was the one talking nonsense. But then his eyes got really wide and he snapped his mouth shut.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath, staring into the middle distance. “They didn’t start doing that until…” he paused, “So nobody here has…” he trailed off again.

“Klaus?” Dave prompted.

Klaus gave a deep sigh. “Look,” he said. “I can’t explain it. But we don’t need to worry about my heats. I’m good for easily another few months.” He sighed again deeply. “And by then I expect Five will have… done something anyway... probably come and got me. So, I’ll be long gone before that’s an issue.”

Dave choked. “There are five of them after you?”

“What?” Klaus frowned. “No, Five. My brother Five.”

Dave was completely lost. “Okay,” he said slowly, still not quite sure what had happened but somehow trusting that Klaus knew what he was talking about. “Okay, that’s good, I think. So unexpected heats is something we can cross off the list of worries.”

“Yes.” Klaus gave a definitive nod. “So go on, what else did you have on that list?” Klaus asked. “It was my scent, wasn’t it? I don’t get what’s the big deal is if we’re just surrounded by betas?”

“Everyone else in our unit are betas,” Dave confirmed. “But there are alphas in the other units. I mean,” he added delicately, “I don’t know if any that are openly… you know…” he trailed off.

“Gay?” Klaus supplied.

“Yeah,” Dave said thankfully. “But, I mean, that’s not to say there aren’t any. If they were they’d probably – no definitely – try to hide that.” Dave twisted his face in discomfort. Klaus was looked at him unblinkingly, a question lodged behind his slightly furrowed brows.

Dave swallowed again and tried to steady his breathing, determinedly not making eye contact. He couldn’t let Klaus know that he was talking about himself. Not after everything Klaus had said earlier about manipulative alphas only being kind to omegas for sex. He wanted Klaus to feel safe. He wanted Klaus to trust him.

So Dave couldn’t let him know that he was one of those kind of alphas. The ones who were attracted to men. The alphas who were almost as rare as male omegas. After what Klaus had shared about his past, he didn’t want Klaus to feel scared of him. He didn’t want to make him feel like… prey.

Klaus was one hundred percent safe with Dave. Dave knew he would never force himself on anyone. But Klaus didn’t know that. Klaus would just see him as a potential threat. Even worse, he might think that he was manipulating him, that Dave had befriended him on false pretences, only to get close to him and... and… Dave shuddered.

Klaus had made it very clear – he was running from an abusive alpha. So absolutely under no circumstances could Dave let him know his preferences. The competing alpha urges battled inside him again: desire and protection. Protection won.

“So,” Klaus said slowly, “you’re saying I need to be careful to hide the fact that I’m an omega from the alphas in other units, not because they’d want to fuck me – because they’re probably not interested in that – but because they’d out me as an omega. And I’d then be sent… back.”

“Yeah,” Dave nodded. “And if back isn’t safe for you, then we need to make sure they don’t find out, so that you can stay here where you’re safe. Safer.”

“Okay,” Klaus said. “How do we hide my omega-ness from them, then?”

“Well,” Dave said, “for a start, don’t tell anyone you’re an omega.”

“Good one, Sherlock” Klaus grinned.

“Secondly,” Dave said ignoring Klaus’ comment with a small shrug and a roll of his eyes, “I guess, try to keep the scent glands in your neck and wrists covered as much as possible. Clothing is okay for a start, but if you’re going to be around alphas for any length of time, it might be a good idea to cover up even more… bandages or dressings maybe? Or – at a push – a layer of mud might work.”

“That sounds gross.” Klaus wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“I know, it sucks,” Dave pulled a sympathetic face, “but it’s safer.”

“It sucks to be safe!” Klaus huffed in frustration. “And you have no idea how much it really sucks. I’m not really one for coving up. I like to live my life scantily clad.”

Dave swallowed and looked resolutely ahead.

“You know…” Klaus said in a sing-song voice, “bare chested twink, make the boys wink…”

“Twink?” Dave frowned.

“That would be me, Dave,” Klaus said, waving his arms in a flourish that took in his whole body. He did a quick twirl on the spot.

“Oh.” Dave could feel his face heating up again.

“Or,” Klaus carried on, “if you want to sin, show some skin… to make him cum, bare your tum.”

“They’re,” Dave swallowed, “interesting rhymes.”

Klaus let out a musically little giggle and batted his long eyelashes theatrically. “All of my own creation, Davey. And anyway… what more do you expect? I’m just a little omega sex toy, there’s nothing up here in my head. I’m only good for one thing… pleasuring horny alphas.”

Dave frowned. “Omegas are worth so much more than that,” he said seriously. His mouth had gone very dry.

“Dave, it’s fine, I was joking.” Klaus said with a little shrug.

“No,” Dave said. “It’s not okay. I know what the law says, but general perceptions aren’t so fast to change. And it’s not fair that omegas are still treated like second class citizens. You shouldn’t feel like you have to act a part just because it’s what’s expected of you. You should be able to be exactly who you want to be.” Dave’s voice had risen and he was breathing deeply. The ironic weight of his words rang in his ears long after he’d finished talking.

“I completely agree,” Klaus said seriously, all frivolity stripped from his face. He looked vulnerable and open again. “I’m absolutely an advocate for omega rights. And it’s good to know that you’re an omega ally. Those rhymes though… I know it might seem like that’s me conforming to an expected stereotype, but actually, it’s the opposite. I hate being told that I shouldn’t embrace my sexuality because it negates years of omega rights protests. Acting like a flirt doesn’t mean I don’t believe omegas should have equal rights in society, whether they’re bonded or not. As far as I’m concerned, there’s a world of difference between choosing to act like a sex object and being forced into it. And I hate it when other omegas imply I’m being a bad omega, like there’s a right way and a wrong way. Fuck everyone who says acting like a stereotype propagates the wrong impression and makes it okay for alphas to treat us that way. That’s just victim blaming. If alphas act like fucking dicks, that’s on them, not us!” Klaus took a long, shuddering inhale.

“I’m sorry I said anything,” Dave said sincerely. “I’m sorry if I upset you or I said the wrong thing. I’m not always the best at talking about this kind of stuff. All I meant to say was… I think omegas get a raw deal and… and… and I’m on your side.”

Klaus smiled contrite. “I know, I’m sorry that got a bit heavy. And don’t worry, you didn’t say anything wrong. It’s just omega politics!” He blew out a frustrated breath.

Dave pulled a sympathetic face.

“Anyway,” Klaus said, gathering himself again, “where were we? Oh, yeah, slathering me in mud and making me cover up like a nun.” He grinned and did his funny little two eyed blink again. “Any other ideas about how to mask me up and make me the least fuckable guy in the country?” His voice was light and Dave knew he was only joking.

Dave cleared his throat. “Umm,” he started, “I thought maybe… you could wear my clothes?” He could feel his cheeks heating up again. “After I’ve had them on, I mean. That way my natural alpha smell might cover yours a bit. But you don’t have to,” He added hurriedly, “if you think that’s weird or gross or whatever. It was just an idea.”

Klaus shrugged. “Nope, I mean, that’s a perfectly logical idea. To other alphas, a faint alpha smell mixed with a fait omega smell will probably come out smelling like… well, probably like a bit of a funky smelling beta. But I can deal with that.”

Dave nodded. “I know it’s less than ideal, but I think that’s probably the best option. Other than that, I guess we’ll just have to play it by ear.”

Klaus paused, then said slowly. “So, basically, I’m not really safe here unless you help me. I have to stay on your good side, or else bad things could happen to me? That sounds like it’s come straight from victim testimony.”

Dave grimaced. “Yeah, I totally see where you’re coming from with that. All I can say is that… I’m not like that. I genuinely just want to help you. I know that sounds pretty pathetic and not very reassuring. But the bad things are genuine threats, and we’re in the unusual situation where I actually am the only one who can help. So hopefully you can learn to trust that I am actually an okay guy.” He gave an apologetic little shrug and looked over towards Klaus. “I’ve got your back, soldier. Whether you believe me or not.”

Klaus cocked his head to one side and appraised him seriously, but Dave thought he could smell something light and teasing in the air.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we… soldier?” He said eventually.

“I’ll take that,” Dave said calmly, his face soft and open and honest. Klaus just looked back at him, his expression unreadable.

They had walked on a few more paces before Dave looked over at Klaus warily. “There is something else I should probably tell you.” He said slowly.

Klaus’ ears pricked up and he looked over at Dave quickly. Dave’s nostrils flared, expecting a wave of apprehension from Klaus, but instead all he caught the scent of was… hopeful. He faltered and looked over at Klaus, whose eyes were large and fixed on Dave’s face.

“There is an alpha in another unit,” he started and watched as Klaus’ face fell slightly before his eyes. “I don’t really know, but I have heard… rumours.”

Klaus frowned again. “What kind of rumours?”

“Well,” Dave said. “I heard that… when he was back home… he was arrested a couple of times for abusing omegas, but he got off on technicalities.”

Klaus swallowed and his upper lip twitched in suppressed anger. “Bastard,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” Dave intoned flatly. “But look,” he added quickly. “I don’t know if that’s true. It could just be an ugly rumour.”

“All rumours start with a grain of truth somewhere. Except when Allison’s involved.” Klaus grinned. “Man, I wish I could introduce people like that to Allison. She’d sort them right out!” He barked a laugh.

Dave fought the urge to ask who Allison was, and instead said, “I just thought I’d give you a heads up. Just in case, you know. Just to be extra careful around him. He’s big. And not just alpha big. I mean, he’s big big. He could probably snap you in two with his little finger.”

“And by that you actually mean he’d split me in half. Right up the middle.”

Dave grimaced. “Well, I was trying to put it delicately.”

“Yeah, I know you were. Thanks though, I’ll watch out for him. Maybe you can point him out to me?”

“Sure,” Dave agreed.

They walked a little further in silence. It wasn’t exactly the comfortable silence of earlier, but Dave at least felt content that he’d said what needed to be said and was happy they’d come up with a plan. After a few more steps, Klaus chimed up.

“It really doesn’t seem fair that omega biology makes us so much smaller and slighter alphas. I mean, why do we have to be as small as betas. We’re the ones expected to mate with alphas. Alphas who are biologically huge!” He turned towards Dave and looked up into his eyes. Dave looked down at him, really appreciating for the first time the size difference between them. “I mean, everything is just so big about alphas. Their height, their build, their personalities, their cocks…” Dave choked slightly and Klaus grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong, I am into alpha cocks, but biologically they really are unnecessarily enormous.” Dave looked resolutely ahead, but dimly he was aware that Klaus’ gaze had travelled down to his crotch and the noticeable bulge in his uniform pants.

“The size thing is all very well when it’s an alpha you’re into,” Klaus continued, his gaze still lowered. “But when it’s a predatory alpha throwing his weight around, it’s a bit disconcerting. Omegas should at least have some sort of biological defence mechanism to protect ourselves from alphas like that. Like skunk stick gas, or retractable cat claws.”

Dave let out a loud laugh. He brought a hand up to cover him mouth.

Klaus watched him with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh my god,” Dave huffed out a chuckle. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I’m just picturing you with tufty ears and a tail, like a hybrid feline-man… or a cat-boy or something. That’s so wild.”

“Wow,” Klaus said under this breath. “Just wait ‘till you realise what that means, it’s going to blow your mind.”

“What?” Dave asked.

“Oh, never mind, ignore me” Klaus said hurriedly. But he was still grinning.

They turned a bend in the track and suddenly ahead of them they could see the camp site and others in their unit already hard at work.

“I guess it’s back to war now then,” Klaus said shakily.

“I guess so,” Dave replied slowly.

“I’ve got to say,” Klaus grinned, “I really can’t wait to wear that shirt tomorrow.” He nodded at Dave’s chest and furrowed his brows in a mock thoughtful look. “I just don’t think clothes feel right unless they’ve been worn in first by another man during a six hour hike through a tropical rainforest. Clothes are just missing something if they don’t come dirt encrusted and pre-stiffened in dried sweat.”

Dave grimaced and looked down at himself, noticing for the first time his pit stains and the dampness across his chest and back.

“Maybe I’ll give this a quick rinse first,” he said sheepishly.

“Don’t you dare,” Klaus said firmly. “I need all the alpha musk I can get, remember. Come on, Dave,” he said biting his lip slowly and looking up – way up – into Dave’s face, “you have to mark me. Cover me in your scent.”

Dave swallowed hard and forced his breaths to come evenly. As he looked down into Klaus’ breathtakingly beautiful face, he thought there must be some sort of trick of the light as the sun set slowly beneath the horizon in a pool of blood red light, because he could have sworn he saw a faint blush spread across Klaus’ nose and cheeks, the flush working its way down his throat.

“O-okay,” Dave stammered.

Klaus just blinked slowly and raised his gaze from Dave’s lips to his eyes.

Maintaining this charade, Dave thought ruefully, is going to be much harder than I thought.

#klave #klaus hargreeves #dave katz #the umbrella academy #klaus/dave #klaus x dave #tua

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