#(this is a joke) (yes polyamory should be normalized) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bbugyu · 4 years ago

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how jeonghan knew

a journey with yoon jeonghan, lee seokmin, and you.

there was always something about his infectious laugh and his genuine nature that felt like fate to jeonghan, and maybe you were the muse that kept their red thread in tact.

prelude | part one | part two | part three | epilogue

wc.10662 (LMFAO) | fluff, smut, courtship, angsty in the beginning, polyamory, sugar daddy!jeonghan musician!seokmin escort!reader, hi cheol, hi gyu (again), hi boo, hi wonu, gay pining, jk he's pan probably, discovering sexuality, daddy kink, special guest seokmin!!!!!, threesome, lots of mlm, oral, cumpla, handjobs, choking, butt plugs, male penetration, there's a full on reader-less memberxmember sex scene idk, unprotected sex, please use condoms, jeonghan gets overwhelmed, the TEASING, jeonghan being a home improvement freak, don’t mind han jisung he’s just vibing, required listening is positions (2020) by ariana grande because it’s a perfect album

and here we have poly seokhan: the gayening!!! this is going to be the end of my scheduled updates for neverending artistry, but i’ll be posting an epilogue when i finish it - probably after i post a couple of other fics. this chapter.... is my fave......... i think u will see why lol. i went ahead and got a lil carried away with the house stuff but LISTENNNN i watch a lot of architecture videos ok LFJDSJ

thank you all so much for your continued support and incredible feedback on this series! it seriously means so much to me and i love seeing asks and messages from everyone telling me how excited they are to read more. i hope this satisfies you!!!

jeonghan is pretty sure he always loved seokmin. it wasn't something he would ever be able to change about himself, he figured, as he watched his friend date woman after woman in college with varying seriousness. he decidedly ignored any amount of feelings he harbored for the younger, especially after he dropped architecture as his major and he saw less of him.

jeonghan tried to get over the destined musician (he would always be singing or fiddling with his guitar when he was meant to be helping jeonghan with a diorama) with several women, and after decisively focusing on his career for a couple years, he found success in another man. his short lived gym buddy, but lasted quite a bit longer as his boyfriend. they had connected first when jeonghan had offhandedly commented that he liked the logo on his shirt, to which the long lashed, broad shouldered man had said he had gotten it at the brand's store down the street, making jeonghan chew his cheek before he admitted that he had helped design that location. they connected the second time later that night, clumsily but intensely, and jeonghan liked his plush pouty lips and how his messy black hair felt between his fingers.

while that didn't last forever, he found varied success in other men, and he figured this was why dating women had always been so difficult for him. definitely not that he had been given small choice amongst the rotten apples that attended his college.

he was single again, and at an industry party when he reconnected with an old friend from college who happily reminisced about the fun their small group of friends had back then. he asked if jeonghan remembered seokmin, the guy that dropped the program.

"lee seokmin?" he asked, his brows knitting as he tried to react normally to the name, and mingyu hit his shoulder, laughing.

"yeah! guess what? that son of a bitch is teaching my niece piano!"

jeonghan smiled at the idea of seokmin as a piano teacher, nodding along as mingyu talked about how he had volunteered to take her to her lesson one week, only to be put face to face with a long lost friend. jeonghan laughed as mingyu imitated the face the other had made, laughing harder when he recognized it and remembered seeing it on seokmin's face in the past, then telling mingyu about how he had once pranked him by making the poor guy think that he was going to fail a project because seokmin had accidentally destroyed a diorama. it had already been graded, and he was going to take it apart to save on materials anyways, but the younger nearly cried when he thought he had wasted hours of jeonghan's time and cost him the grade by accidentally kicking it off his desk.

he asked how seokmin was doing these days, and mingyu told him he seemed well, and that he takes his niece to her lessons as often as he can spare, just to chat for a while. "i could give you his number," he said, feeling his pockets for his phone. "i'm sure he'd love to hear from you."

mingyu had been right. seokmin did love hearing from him. and he loved the way seokmin made him laugh with his ever joking tone and physical comedy antics. the way his eyebrows creased as he tried to keep a stern face but was unable to hide the smile across his lips. the way he always fought with him for the check despite jeonghan being older and notably better off.

he didn't love, however, how seokmin nodded his head after the waitress and asked him if he thought he had a shot.

maybe he was desperate, or maybe he wanted an excuse to not date seriously, or maybe he just wasn't ready to let go, but jeonghan continued to invite seokmin out, despite the fact that their relationship would never develop past friends who met in college. he enjoyed his company anyways, even if it felt bittersweet.

he poured himself into his work for several months, taking more contracts than usual and keeping himself occupied, only really seeing others for meetings and constructions, or when he was depressed on a friday night and caved, asking seokmin to join him for drinks somewhere. he continued this cycle for too long, his personal assistant noticing his mood changes before most.

"are you taking your vitamins?"

"yes, seungkwan, i'm taking my vitamins," jeonghan bit back, fully aware that he wasn't asking about vitamins at all, but about his state. confirming he was still making an effort to take care of himself rather than spiraling, sat in his living room on a tuesday after being told by a doctor to rest, for god's sake as a solution to him nearly collapsing several hours earlier. seungkwan shifted on his feet, tongue running over his teeth as he stared at the architect, hands folded in front of him.

"you need to stop seeing him. it only hurts you."

jeonghan sighed, staring at the black screen of his television. "i know."

his assistant studied him. "you should come out with the team sometime," he said. "we get drinks on wednesdays, usually. come tomorrow, it could take your mind off things."

jeonghan looked up at seungkwan, who was clearly sucking on his cheek. he knew he was right. more importantly, seungkwan knew he knew, but jeonghan had a hard time wanting to take his mind off this one specific thing, considering the way this one specific thing laughed like a hyena, poured himself over a piano like an ocean wave, and sang along like an angel. his head fell back on the couch, and he had to take a long, conscious breath to lower the ringing in his ears at the silence. "i'll be there next time."

seungkwan exhaled in defeat, eyes flickering around as he excused himself and said goodnight, knowing his boss was lying.

jeonghan found you on accident - put in an uncomfortable corner by an ultimatum from his publicist and the circulating rumor that he sleeps with men because he can't keep a woman around that seemed to pile on top of everything else on his plate - and the second you opened your mouth, he knew you were special.

he remembered the profile he had seen from your broker, and knew you were attending university. he asked you your major, and when you told him you wanted to produce music for a living, something deep in him stirred. you had been sitting in his car for all of twenty minutes, and you nearly had him under your spell already.

he couldn't understand his fascination with you, but he continued to book you for dates, sometimes deciding what event he would be attending by asking what day you were available that week. he figured if he needed to prove to the world that he wasn't gay (which he was, he was pretty sure), you were the only one he was interested in doing it with.

maybe he had a thing for musicians.

he had taken out quite a few escorts before you, but none of them were nearly as fun. you always did an incredible job engaging in whatever event he brought you to, but also hit his chest as you tried to stifle a laugh at something he muttered into your ear, guiding you away. his friends liked you, too, the few he had. the ones that had met you. yongsun had even tugged him aside briefly, asking if he really liked you. you seemed nice, she had said. and good, in general, but also for him. she wanted to make sure he wasn't just leading you along to quiet some stupid rumor. he glanced at you, smiling wide as you excitedly discussed music with one of his other friends (the fifth and last person he liked at this event, the two of you included), and wasn't quite sure why he told her he actually liked you, but didn't feel the need to correct himself.

then you told him you were quitting, and he realized what he would be losing. then you kissed him, and he realized what he had been feeling. then you looked at him with wide eyes, just as shocked as he was by the explosion of fireworks you had both just experienced, and he realized what he had been missing out on all this time.

he figured he must have always loved you as his eyes scanned the hotel bar, confused at how you had managed to get away so quickly. he was running into the hall to see if you had escaped to the lobby when someone caught his arm.

"hey, you seen yongsun?"

jeonghan blinked at his blonde friend, recognizing her play. "have you seen y/n?"

"try the bathroom," she said, throwing a thumb over her shoulder in the direction she had come from.

he looked down the hall at the restroom signs, nodding. "i saw her at the chocolate fountain a minute ago."

byulyi patted his shoulder as she walked past him. "good luck, yoon."

it felt good telling you the truth, while sitting in your well organized and tastefully decorated studio apartment that you had insisted he would hate, even if he was too scared to admit all of it. why he had needed you before, but wanted you now. his heart nearly beat out of his chest when you agreed to his conditions, though he recognized that he had given you just about every advantage in the deal. it would have been near impossible for you to say no, especially after the way you had kissed him before someone had finally tried to enter the bathroom you were hiding in.

for a while, he only kissed you as a farewell, mostly because he enjoyed the old school romanticism of kissing a beautiful woman in the moonlight, her back against the passenger door of his black vehicle parked on the street outside her studio apartment. then, when he had invited you to his home after the two of you had ditched a boring dinner several hours early, you had curled up in his side to watch a movie. at some point, he caught you staring at him, and you put a hand on his cheek and kissed him sweetly. slowly. kissed him in a way that only made him crave more. you smiled, settling back into his side for the rest of the movie, and even though you had done it unconsciously, the back of your hand rested against his thigh in a way he had a hard time ignoring, and he decided he must have just had real shit taste in women before he had met you.

the following sunday, when you mentioned how pitch black the sky seemed at that late hour, having gotten caught up binging some drama, he not-so-vaguely hinted that he'd be okay with you spending the night in his bed. you eyed him, and he shrugged playfully.

"or i have guest rooms. up to you."

"i have class tomorrow," you tested.

"i can take you," he responded. "if you want."

you paused, watching him as he recorked the wine bottle the two of you had opened earlier in the evening but only managed to have one glass of each before abandoning it to cuddle on the couch. he was always so thoughtful, even in his teasing. he cared about your comfort. he wanted to maintain your boundaries. but it had been a really long time since you had gotten laid, and everything in you yearned to say yes. jeonghan's voice in your head reminded you, no expectations. this could be whatever you wanted out of it.

so you went to bed with him.

jeonghan would swear up and down that you were the most beautiful woman in the world, and his beliefs were only confirmed when he pulled your shirt off of you, dragging your pants down your legs, and got a real look at you for the first time. you felt unexplainably embarrassed under his gaze, asking if he was okay.

"yeah," he said breathlessly, a hand running up your side, your back arching slightly to his touch. he curled over you before he whispered "god, yeah, i'm more than okay," against your lips.

not even ten minutes had passed before you told him you loved him between your panting, and he was so ecstatic when he could tell you, wholly and truthfully, that he loved you, too. and after your pulses had died down and you were falling asleep in his arms, he said that if you were staying under his roof, you were not allowed in any guest rooms. that if you needed space, he would find a different bed to sleep in, because this one looked best with you in it, and he refused to have it any other way.

jeonghan never got bored with you. over time, you began going to his place after events and dinners more than he dropped you off at your apartment, becoming an often enough occurrence that he had asked you one night to fill an online shopping cart with clothes for you to keep in his closet, so you could stop this silly packing bags nonsense. he had already bought you a full set of toiletries for his bathroom, started keeping your favorite snacks in the pantry, and even gone as far as to buy you the house slippers you had offhandedly said were cute when the two of you wandered aimlessly around a mall together. you were becoming a part of his home in more ways than one, and he was happy to have you.

he offered you an unused office on the second floor when you started studying for finals on the peninsula of his kitchen counter one monday afternoon, and you asked what was wrong with you doing it where you were.

"because you're not going to clean it up," he pointed out.

"maybe if we had a rewards system," you argued. "if i clean up, i get a prize."

he laughed, rounding the small jut of countertop, thinking about how he would probably need a proper kitchen island if you were going to be sticking around. "just because i give you an allowance, doesn't mean you're a child. you're not supposed to focus on the baby part of sugar baby."

you pouted as you turned on the stool to face him, a hand gently tugging his tie to pull him into you. "what if i focus on the daddy part of sugar daddy?"

a hunger dropped in jeonghan, gazing down at you as you sat at his kitchen counter, surrounded by textbooks and notes. your eyes sparkled under the lights, and his fingers went behind your neck before he kissed you, muttering against your lips to try calling him that again, angel.

the kitchen remodel had gone about as smoothly as it could have, given the fact that it was nearly impossible to transport such a large slab of granite for his dream island without it snapping in half from its own weight, but they managed, and when the light fixture finally turned on for the first time after the new cabinet doors had been installed, he felt justified in remodeling a kitchen that had hardly needed updating. he felt even more justified when he came downstairs to find you, having woken up in an empty bed, only to have you yell at him as you flipped pancakes on the griddle of his new gas range, saying you were going to bring him breakfast in bed and if he didn't cooperate, he wouldn't see you for a week. he laughed at your threatening spatula, putting his hands up in surrender, unable to stop smiling as he made his way back up the stairs.

you had enrolled in online courses for your last year of school, mostly so you didn't have to be anywhere specific for several hours every day, and instead could keep your schedule massively open to cater to jeonghan's needs. this also meant you usually attended your afternoon lectures at his home, waiting for him to get off work and distract you.

then the two of you started attended wednesday drinks with the team. seungkwan had thanked you, though you hadn't realized that you were deserving of a thanks.

"he'll tell you when he wants to, i guess," he said, twirling the beer in his hand. "but he wasn't in a great place before he met you."

you could hear the subject of your exchange laughing further down the bar, and you wondered what kind of place he meant, but tapped your glass against seungkwan's instead of asking the question. "to better places."

he chuckled, bringing the beer to his lips. "cheers to that."

jeonghan enjoyed having you on his lap on the couch, listening to whatever r&b record you had chosen as you worked your lips against his. he nudged several kisses down your neck, and you mentioned offhandedly that there was a perfect place in his living room for a bar, pointing at the wall behind him. he pulled away from you, turning his body with an arm over the back of the sofa, and his head cocked as he stared at the wall that only held a painting. he silently agreed with you, wondering why you seemed to inspire all his recent projects as you nipped at his neck, drawing his attention back to you with a smile on his face.

the bar was finished in time to hire a bartender for a halloween party. he hadn't told the guests that it was an anniversary party, but you had been made aware of the secret arrangement during a conversation the two of you had over a private meal in your favorite restaurant the week before.

"a threesome," you asked, hoping for clarification.

"with a guy, preferably," jeonghan said. "but i could be convinced to approve of a girl if that's what you would like."

"you're being serious?" you seemed to find yourself asking him that a lot. every time he suggested something that he knew you wanted, you wondered if he was pulling your leg. "and you want me to choose?"

"yeah, at the party," he said, watching you shake your head incredulously with a smile on his face. the two of you had discussed the possibility in the past, and he thought it made a fun gift. an unexpected one, from someone who had enough money to comfortably gift you just about anything. "i have to approve, obviously, but you get to pick the candidates."

you thought a moment. "what if we can't agree on anyone?"

"then i take you to bed alone and we have fun anyways."

he laughed when you squinted at him.

"if the opportunity comes up down the line, we can try again later," he said. "but i thought this would give you something fun to do while i'm hosting guests."

and it had, as you sneakily scoped out the guests, flitting around the party of both familiar and unfamiliar faces in your angelic cheerleading costume. visiting and laughing heartily with the team, as well as your uni friends that jeonghan insisted you invite, offering them more drinks, then saying something about having to play hostess so you could continue your search. byulyi and yongsun were there, and you complimented their matching rapunzel and flynn get up, jeonghan catching you for just a second to ask if you needed anything.

you settled in on one target perhaps too quickly, without even really having made an effort to see all the options. you had been struck by the same sharp cheekbones, puppy dog eyes, and crooked smile that jeonghan had once fallen for. when he saw you tucked into lee seokmin's side, recognizing your flirting even from a distance and noticing how receptive the musician was to it, his heart fluttered, and he couldn't tell if it was a good or bad thing.

a good thing, he decided, when seokmin had asked him permission before he came in you. because, seemingly, sexuality was much more of a spectrum than jeonghan had once thought, and perhaps his college crush just needed the encouragement of an incredible woman to try something a little beyond his experience, much like he had.

and when you wouldn't stop mentioning the musician the two of you had enjoyed the company of while schmoozing guests at the opening of him and his friend's collaborative art exhibit, he got a slick idea. on the way home, he told you that you weren't allowed to make a noise until he hung up the phone, but you were already writhing in the passenger seat just as the phone rang.

and when he answered, you clamped a hand over your mouth, a bare foot landing on the dashboard as you tried to grind against jeonghan's hand, his voice steady as he talked to the younger.

and when he mentioned you, your walls pulsed around his fingers, a smile finding its way into his lips as he spoke. he tried not to take too much pleasure in the way you looked at him with begging eyes and your fist between your teeth, or in the way seokmin's tone dropped as he confirmed that he would get a cab, but he truly couldn't help himself when he made eye contact with seokmin as you sucked him off, his hips canting into yours recklessly, forcing seokmin to break the contact as he reacted to your moan on his cock.

he noticed the way seokmin's hips began to move on their own, begging for enough control to chase his nearing high in your mouth but having it brought right to his doorstep instead. jeonghan felt your perfect heat cling to him in reaction, and before he could think to stop himself, he pulled you into his chest by your throat, not daring to let you claim it all as he lapped cum from your mouth. you whimpered against him, your orgasm lasting impossibly long as he fucked into you, getting milked by your needy walls.

when he caught seokmin staring directly at him, he grinned and wiped the back of his hand across his chin and lower lip, languidly licking any escaped cum off it, and asked if he wanted to try his, too.

seokmin agreed, nodding shakily before jeonghan massaged at your sides, pumping himself into you a few more times. he told you to give seokmin's mouth a ride. you groaned, his cum dripping down your thighs.

jeonghan watched the younger's cock twitch as you moaned over him, one hand on the wall and the other on his scalp, his fingers digging into your thighs. he stared at how it never lost hardness. he didn't even realize that his hands were on seokmin's hip and thigh before he even asked if he could touch him, but a large hand left your thigh to shakily bring jeonghan's to his thick cock, answering the question despite you occupying his mouth, his fingers lingering over jeonghan's as he pumped his length.

he couldn't deny that how badly he wanted to fuck seokmin, but he could settle for making him cum in his hands until he was ready for something more, especially with the surprising amount he had to give after already having cum once. he let himself indulge in a single lick across seokmin's sensitive slit - though it was hard to stop there - triggering a garbled moan before he left to shower.

a week or so later, jeonghan asked you if you were interested in dating seokmin. you put your phone down and rolled over in bed, propped up on your elbows as you asked him what he meant.

"i love you," jeonghan assured, pulling you to lay closer to him. "and i can tell you like him."

you studied his face. "but i'm with you."

"that doesn't have to stop," he said, smiling at you as he tucked a hand behind his head. you eyed his arm briefly, then refocused on him. "but you know how things get in the winter, and i would be okay with you trying things out with him while i'm busy."

"you're being serious?"

jeonghan laughed at the familiar question. "yes, y/n, i'm being serious. i know you want me, but i also know you want more than me."

you had never told anyone about your desire for multiple partners, not even admitted it out loud to yourself, so his candid assessment caught you off guard. "how did you-"

"just little things you've said," he teased, leaving you to question how much you had revealed about yourself without realizing. "besides, no one can deny the chemistry."

you paused. "boundaries?"

"just tell me," he said, putting his arms around you and tugging you into him. "i just want to know when you're seeing him. and, eventually, i would like to be invited every once in a while."

"invited to dates?" you asked, throwing a leg over his lap to straddle it as you laid over him. "or invited to bed?"

he smiled up at you, hands running over your rear. "either. both. whatever you two want."

you agreed, but only after you made him promise he would tell you if anything changed for him. that he had to tell you about every doubt and worry he had. "i'll always choose you," you stated plainly, lips brushing against his as he gently rolled his growing length up against your clothed heat. "no matter what, i'll choose you."

"i know, sweetheart," he said, a hand on your cheek as he kissed you. "i promise."

after he came back from a business trip in december, you admitted to him that you and seokmin had exchanged i love yous, and he just put an arm over your shoulder and turned down the volume on the tv, telling you that he was pretty sure he loved seokmin, too.

"it was him, wasn't it?" you asked, studying his profile. "he was the guy you couldn't get over?"

jeonghan rubbed his face with one hand, sighing. "yeah, it was him."

"why didn't you say anything?"

he thought a moment. "i didn't want you to feel obligated, i guess."

your fingers straightened the seams of his long sleeved shirt across his shoulder. "obligated to win him over for you?"

"obligated to love him, too."

"jokes on you," you giggled. "he's very easy to fall in love with."

jeonghan supposed that was true, thinking of how quickly he had fallen for him, even back before he had admitted he liked men. how he had fallen into the same spot even years later, just over a shared meal and a few bottles of soju.

but you were easy to fall in love with too, he thought, remembering how he hadn't even understood his feelings towards you until you had kissed him, but he had felt them strong enough to want you to stay by his side anyways. maybe jeonghan just fell easily, but maybe he was lucky enough to have found his people at such a young age.

you settled back into the crook of his arm and asked him what he thought about seokmin coming over to join you two for christmas. while much of the world celebrated with family, it was more of a hallmark holiday in korea, often times spent with a long time sweetheart or a budding romance. or both, in your case, jeonghan supposed, when you were distracted trying to find the third christmas music lp you had specifically gotten for the occasion (out of eight, of course, because you didn't want to run out of christmas music). he was leaning against the tasteful home bar that had been hardly touched since halloween when seokmin shyly admitted that he knew jeonghan was interested in him.

he said nothing for a moment. "she told you?"

"kind of, back when you were in japan, but-" seokmin paused. "i think she was just suspicious, but i should have known. you were always too kind to me."

"not too kind," jeonghan said, hiding behind his wine as he sipped at it, trying not to show his embarrassment.

"i think i'm interested, too."

he looked at seokmin, who was staring down at his hands. "are you sure?"

"i'm-" he paused, catching jeonghan's eyes for only a second before scratching the back of his neck. "i think so. i've never even thought about doing anything with - uh - men. until you."

"that's okay," jeonghan said, looking to where you were flipping through records. "i didn't like women until y/n."

seokmin faltered. "wait, really?"

he nodded, a small smile on his face. "i thought i was gay. turns out i'm not."

"but you-" the musician stretched his jaw. "weren't you kind of a player in college?"

he almost said something about how having sex to meet an end and keep an appearance was different than enjoying it, but stopped himself when you announced that you had found the lost record, switching the lps with a flourish and setting the player again. and while he was curious about the level of seokmin's interest in him, he was happy to leave the conversation where it stood when you excitedly rejoined them at the bar.

"do you think i could be a bartender?" you asked, leaning over the counter and grabbing an unused shaker.

"probably," seokmin said.

"for sure no," jeonghan laughed.

you pouted at the latter, holding the shaker between your hands as you directed your attention to the former. "thank you, seokmin. i appreciate you encouraging my dreams."

"any time," he joked.

jeonghan rolled his eyes. "what about that music degree i'm paying for?" he asked, taking another sip.

"just because you've known what you wanted to do forever, doesn't mean everyone does. maybe i'll change my mind." you tried to spin the shaker in your hand, but the force you used was too little and it stopped on your palm too quickly, clumsily clattering to the counter. you stilled it, exhaling sharply when jeonghan giggled beside you, looking to seokmin. "he might be right."

"it's almost like i know you," jeonghan teased, nudging you. "she was convinced she could become my personal bartender for all of two weeks."

"i tried," you whined. seokmin laughed. "the tricks are harder than they look."

"and you hated shaking drinks."

you put the shaker back, defeated. "the ice made it cold."

"isn't that the point?" seokmin asked.

jeonghan smiled at you. "you're lucky i like wine."

"i'm gonna talk to you now," you announced, turning your body to seokmin. "because you're nicer to me than he is."

"aw," the architect chuckled, and seokmin watched you react to a squeeze at your butt. "did he make you soft? can't take my teasing anymore?"

you ignored him, trying to ask the man in front of you about his lessons, but you yelped when his hand firmly landed on your ass, grabbing seokmin's arm in reaction. he looked at you, seemingly just as shocked, and you tried to continue the conversation, but jeonghan's hand didn't leave, and your entire body was reacting to the way it was slowly hiking up your skirt and running between your thighs.

your eyes fell shut, and you muttered for him to cut it out as your grip on seokmin's arm tightened, but jeonghan just made eye contact with the other male, asking him instead if he should.

without thinking, seokmin shook his head and put his hands on your jaw, pulling you in to kiss him. your moan against his lips was involuntary, and jeonghan grinned as his fingers ran over your core, making you whine.

"did you tell him?" you gasped out, asking seokmin with hooded eyes. he shook his head, saying that he hadn't told him everything.

"told me what?" jeonghan asked, interest piqued as he put down his glass, pulling his hand out from your skirt and placing them on your hips instead, squeezing gently as he stood behind you, and your head fell back into his shoulder without much intention as you licked your lips. "seokmin?"

he pulled his gaze, trained on your mouth, to look at jeonghan, and he felt his breath stop in his throat as he fully processed the sight in front of him. you gasped again, as jeonghan's hand came up to knead at your breast, and you tried to pull seokmin closer, but he didn't stop moving even when he was pressed against you.

jeonghan thought he might faint. he wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but when seokmin's hand found the back of his neck and pulled him over your shoulder, his mind went blank. when his lips found his, his vision went white. when he felt his tongue against the inside of his teeth, he couldn't help but moan, one hand gripping your waist and the other aimlessly tugging on seokmin's shirt, seemingly just to hold something that belonged to him.

"fuck, okay," jeonghan breathed, staring after the musicians lips even when they left. you giggled, recognizing the feeling. "okay," he repeated. "got it. understood."

you spun around, hands on jeonghan's chest. "we prepared something for you," you said, and seokmin's cheeks and ears were bright red when he sheepishly nodded with you.

jeonghan looked between the two of you, swallowing suddenly. "what?"

you tugged on his hand, then grabbed seokmin's, too, when he didn't move right away, leading them both to walk around the couch. you pulled jeonghan onto the cushions with you, kissing him briefly before he realized someone was between his knees. when he saw him, that was when jeonghan's dick woke up, suddenly realizing what was happening.

"be nice," you muttered against the shell of his ear, your hand running down his torso. "it's his first time."

seokmin's hands were strong but gentle, and despite never having touched a dick that wasn't attached to him, he knew what felt good. he needed a bit of guidance from you to begin, less from lack of knowing the process and more because he was nervous, but quickly found a comfortable rhythm. jeonghan sighed when he finally got pulled out of his pants, and you were sucking a mark into his neck, his arm wrapped around you and his hand kneading at your rear. his eyes could hardly stay open when seokmin ran his flattened tongue up the underside of his cock.

"isn't he pretty?" you asked, whispering, a smile on your lips.

he groaned, threading his fingers behind seokmin's ear, desperately trying to hold back his release because he hasn't even put you in his mouth, yet, jeonghan, for god's sake, keep it together. the younger's eyes flickered up to his, and he nearly came just from the feeling of his soft lips around his member, sinking slowly.

"fuck, you're too good at this," jeonghan said, the half chuckle on his lips falling quickly when seokmin's tongue ran over a vein, the warmth of his mouth feeling like heaven. his teeth bit down on his lower lip, watching your hand run through seokmin's hair. he hummed at the contact, his grip tightening slightly, sending a jolt through jeonghan's system. "fuck, i'm gonna cum already."

"there were lessons," you giggled, your hands wrapping casually around his neck. his breathing hitched, eyes falling shut, focusing on the mouth sheathing his cock as he recognized your fidgeting fingers over his pulse. "merry christmas, daddy."

he inhaled sharply right before you squeezed at his throat, and he thought that he should maybe let you lead more often if it was going to feel this good. seokmin seemed surprised by the feeling of jeonghan cumming in his mouth, but he did his best to pump every drop from him, swallowing thickly. you only smiled when jeonghan sat up, leaving you behind as he pulled seokmin's face to his, his hands running up jeonghan's thighs as he kissed him.

jeonghan decided the sunroom extension was all wrong, and that he'd have to redo it.

"you just built that," wonwoo said, having been the contractor that oversaw the construction. "besides, it's snowy season, we can't do outdoor construction. you'll have to wait til spring."

"not outdoor," jeonghan said, rolling out the drafting papers he had drawn up over the course of his new year break, the final pieces being completed in the wee hours of that morning. he had sent wonwoo a text as soon as he thought he would be awake, asking for a meeting despite it only being two days after the new year. "the shell can stay the same, we just need to build indoors. besides, i need this done in february."

wonwoo blinked at him. "when in february?"

"it has to be fully furnished by the 18th."

the contractor laughed at the deadline, only a month and a half out, as he looked over jeonghan's drafts. it would be a tight schedule, considering the structural changes he wanted, but he recognized his long time work partner's determination and knew there was little he could do to argue. "okay. let's get to work."

he turned down a contract for a café to make time for the new home project, but not before recommending they contact a kim mingyu, giving him the vaguest thank you for introducing seokmin back into his life. he didn't have time to draw several attempted variations of every café he had ever designed, he was too busy mapping out the logistics of adding a lofted space to the two story sunroom. too busy planning to tear out the outer wall of your office and picking the right sliding glass doors that would lead to the loft. you had to ask him several days in a row before he finally told you what he had planned.

"a music room?"

he tried to gauge your reaction. "is it crazy?"

you broke out into a smile, studying his design, gripping the mug that held your latté that morning. "absolutely, but i love it."

he asked you to help him pick instruments, saying his wishlist included a white grand piano and three to five guitars that could be displayed together. he also told you to pick out your dream computer setup for production - you were graduating that year, afterall, and it was about time you started using something other than your laptop and a midi controller to make music - and you almost started crying from how fucking excited that made you.

hiding the plans from seokmin was the hardest part, especially when he started spending weekends at the house. he saw the construction area often, and one friday afternoon, he had even asked if he could help, leaving you to usher him away and assure him that jeonghan didn't like help when it came to these things. he believed the white lie, allowing you to distract him with the option of watching shit television in bed, even convincing him that tonight was the night to surprise his new boyfriend. seokmin laid in bed with his arms wrapped around you, trying not to move too much, fully aware that even the slightest movements in his body caused his dick to come to life, until the last of the workers left and jeonghan appeared, asking if there were dinner requests before he went to take a shower.

seokmin had been training with you for over a week. you had bought him some toys, even helped him try them out in the comfort of his loft, and he got increasingly excited - generally, but also in those moments - to show jeonghan what he had learned. the surprise he had been keeping had already made him beg you to cockwarm him as he waited, but you refused on account of knowing him, and by extension, knowing that he would not being able to stop himself. he had a bit more confidence, though it may have only been fueled by horniness, when he pulled the vaguely sweaty architect toward him on the bed. he tried to say something about how he should really wash up, but seokmin just kissed him, hands gripping around his skull in desperation, his dick already hard against jeonghan's pelvis.

jeonghan's hands wandered, as they usually did, and when he reached down to palm at seokmin's ass, he reacted in a way that earned him a questioning glance.

"we - ah-" his eyes shut, jeonghan's hands getting closer to his surprise. "she's been helping me-"

and that was when he felt it. the small, hard handle of a plug, situated between seokmin's perky asscheeks, easy to feel through the loose fabric of his shorts, and jeonghan felt his arousal tenting his pants just from the concept.

jeonghan hadn't even noticed your movement off the bed until a bottle of lube hit his leg, looking down at it briefly before looking to you.

"i'm gonna go clean up," you said, running a hand through your hair as you retreated to the bathroom, leaving jeonghan with an already flustered seokmin.

before long, he had him on his back, naked, and finally got to see how sweet his little ass looked when jeonghan pushed his knees towards his chest. when he saw the black knob fitting tightly into his hole, he groaned, his own bare cock flinching in need. he put a hand on seokmin's dick, gripping it lightly, then put a thumb against the plug.

"nngh- fuck," seokmin stammered, fingers gripping at the bedsheets as his neck stretched out against the pillows, bucking into the hand wrapped around him. "j-jeonghan…"

"this is cute," he said, slowly moving his thumb in a circular motion, the plug's movement making seokmin let out choked moans. "but i really need to play with you now."

seokmin nodded, hurriedly, brows knit together. "please."

he hooked his fingers under the knob of the plug, slowly pulling it out and relishing in the reaction. the younger's back arched in a way that jeonghan wished he could see from every angle, knowing that the way his shoulders and back looked must have been incredible, but satisfied by just watching the way his mouth hung open and his eyes clamped shut, his fingers gripping at jeonghan's hand where it stayed on his dick.

he began to pump the dick in his palm, setting aside the plug and grabbing the lube, popping it open with just his left hand and quickly squirting a healthy amount onto the tip of seokmin's penis, making quick work of spreading it completely over the engorged member, the slickness making him moan even louder and reach out for jeonghan's shoulders.

he let seokmin tug him over him, kissing him briefly before looking down at where the younger's thighs spread over his, wanting nothing more than to just fuck him already.

jeonghan's hand left seokmin's cock, leaving him whining against his lips, but it was short lived as his lubed fingers slid down to his puckered hole.

"seokmin," he muttered, studying his face. "you're sure, right?"

"fuck, i've been wanting this for since christmas, jeonghan," he sputtered out, eyes barely able to focus when there were fingers teasing his entrance. "yes, please, i'm sure."

jeonghan slid a digit into the tight hole, watching seokmin's face as his brows creased and his head fell back, a moan tumbling from his lips. another finger, jeonghan decided, and the reaction was similar, making him smirk.

"god, you're ready, aren't you?"

"please," he begged. "i want you."

jeonghan sat back, and the musician got on his elbows to watch as he readied his cock with lube, putting more on his finger and spreading it around seokmin's hole. he whined when jeonghan placed the head of his dick at his entrance, tugging him over him again.

"i'll go slow, okay?" jeonghan assured him. "tell me if i need to stop."

seokmin just nodded, eyes trained on his, and they locked lips as jeonghan pushed his hips forward slowly, the man under him immediately moaning and huffing against his mouth.

jeonghan really liked sex with seokmin. he also really liked sex with you. but he was pretty sure he liked it the most when you were both present.

seokmin didn't walk right for a day and a half, and while he was slightly embarrassed, you told him it was a badge of honor he should wear proudly. afterall, he had done the same to you on halloween.

"how's your butt?" you asked when he came down the stairs, the sunday morning after they had done the deed without you, making him choke out a laugh as you got his tea out of a cabinet in jeonghan's kitchen.

"better than yesterday," he said, gingerly seating himself at a stool. "but not as good as friday."

you eyed him. "before or during?"

seokmin thought a second. "both."

"good morning," jeonghan said, quickly planting kisses on the man and then you, cheek and lips respectively based on the convenience as he walked past you, making his way to the espresso machine. "i think i'm gonna work on the sunroom today."

"today?" you asked. "wonwoo's gonna say no."

"wonwoo isn't getting invited. i still have to find furniture," he said, rinsing out the espresso shot glass and wiping down the portafilter. "we're getting close to deadline, i need boo to order the upholstery job on tuesday and i have a meeting tomorrow."

"when's deadline?" seokmin asked, wondering why he had one for a home project.

jeonghan blinked at the wall, not even turning towards the younger. "don't worry your pretty head about it."

you pouted, closing the short distance and wrapping your arms around him, your chin on his shoulder. "it's sunday. can't we cuddled puddle?"

"you mean like we do every night?" jeonghan asked, but grinding espresso beans so you couldn't answer the rhetorical question, packing down the grounds. "if you want to cuddle puddle, don't get out of bed so early."

you huffed as you dropped your arms, leaving him to prep a glass for his americano. "whatever. seokmin and i will have fun without you."

"what kind of fun?"

you stick your tongue out at him, using a teasing voice when you said "wouldn't you like to know."

innocent fun, was the truth, but you thought it was a victimless bluff. you spent the morning sitting on the couch with seokmin while a record played, discussing everything from your favorite movies to your weirdest dreams. you had to get up every six songs or so to flip or change the record, but seokmin liked that every time you rejoined him on the couch, you got closer to his side until you were eventually snuggling into his side, arms wrapped around his torso.

the innocence stopped when jeonghan emerged from his study, joining the two of you for a break. he planted himself on the other side of seokmin, under his arm, letting his hand not-so-subtly run over his thigh. you noticed the contact, peeking around to jeonghan.

"what kind of break are you looking for, hannie?"

he adjusted. "an inspiring one."

you giggled, recognizing the euphemism he used whenever he was stuck on something for work as you leaned back again. "that means he's horny."

seokmin sputtered out a laugh, jeonghan chuckling at your direct observation. "it's hard to not think about you two sitting out here, having fun without me."

"you may not believe it," seokmin said. "but i don't think sex was even on the table for us two today."

jeonghan's eyes met his, and he swallowed harshly. "can it be on the table for all three of us?"

the comfort of returning to bed was hard to deny, especially when they had you laid out against seokmin's chest as he was pressed against the headboard, his mouth attached to your neck and his fingers twisting a nipple, all while jeonghan was digging his digits further into you with his tongue flicking against your clit.

seokmin grunted, rutting his hips against your back. "fuck, he looks good there."

you gasped, nodding, biting at your lip as he kneaded your breast, your fingers digging into jeonghan's hair. "you both do."

jeonghan never struggled to pull you apart, his deft fingers and teasing lips making you squirm and moan until you were shaking, mouth hanging open as your vision blurred and he told you you tasted like candy.

"minnie," jeonghan prompted, making the younger sit up with you whining against him to clean your taste off his fingers. his dick throbbed in need, watching the singer's agile tongue against him, wishing it wasn't just on his fingers.

seokmin had to practically beg jeonghan to fuck him again, but his only hesitation was that he may not have recovered yet. seokmin was on his back and gripped at jeonghan's thighs, urging him forward as your hand twisted around his thick, throbbing cock.

jeonghan swallowed, pausing despite being covered in lube and in position. "you're sure?"

"yes," seokmin said, gasping at your hand on him. "jeonghan, i appreciate you asking, but i'm always sure when it comes to you."

you weren't sure you had ever seen jeonghan blush like that in bed, and you smiled against seokmin's neck as he groaned, his cock firming in your grasp as the older pushed into him. you admired seokmin's silent scream, his head lolling to one side at the feeling.

"angel," jeonghan sighed, settling into the way seokmin squeezed around him. "what do you wanna do?"

you teased a thumb over seokmin's slit. "i wanna ride."

"f-fuuck-" seokmin panted, his hips resting against jeonghan's spread thighs as his knees hung to either side. "i'm not- nngh- gonna last."

"you don't have to," you said matter of factly, adjusting to straddle his torso. jeonghan winced, watching your form as he pumped into seokmin. "we're done when daddy says so."

you put your hand, palm up, over your shoulder, and jeonghan chuckled at the recognized motion for him to spit on your fingers - usually, so that you could slick his dick to sit back on it. you worked jeonghan's spit over seokmin's engorged cock, then slowly lowered yourself onto him.

seokmin stared up at you, eyes fluttering and mouth open, suddenly not only feeling impossibly full, but also absolutely stuffed into you. he moaned out loud when jeonghan bumped into his spot, overwhelmed by the simultaneous pleasure. you fell forward onto his chest, holding yourself up with shaky arms as your face hovered over his, both of you trying to hold off your own demises.

then, jeonghan pushed himself deep into seokmin, who whined, his dick pushing up against your cervix. you nearly collapsed, whimpering as your forehead fell to his, gasping into a desperate kiss. jeonghan groaned, his hand running over your hip as he looked at the intersection of you all, staring at the way you barely contained all of seokmin before he leaned forward and kissed your spine.

"you two will kill me," he said, one hand holding you firmly at your waist while the other gripped seokmin's thigh as he picked up his pace. you both moaned, fingernails digging into the plushest part of your thigh when seokmin questioned how much longer he could hold out at jeonghan's unrelenting pace.

a long, high pitched whine fell from his lips. "fuck, i need to cum," he rushed out, bleary eyes barely opening as he looked at you.

"hang on, baby," jeonghan said. "ladies first."

you babbled against seokmin's lips, somehow never being able to get used to the way he filled you, though jeonghan pushing him into you didn't help. you could do nothing but repeat curses in increasing pitch, pushing your face into seokmin's neck as your walls clamped down around him. his mouth gaped, desperately trying to not succumb to your plush insides before he got the okay.

jeonghan smiled at how seokmin tried to focus on him, despite his hands gripping you as you shook against him. "go ahead, baby."

so seokmin went. and god, he went, coating you internally, immediately squeezing out around his stuffed cock and onto his lap, making jeonghan pant as he kept his hips moving, chasing his own end. he leaned forward, chest pressing against your back as he fucked into seokmin, not stopping until his eyes were clamped shut and he was painting his walls white.

there was a long period of time where none of you moved, then another after you had all managed to untangle from each other. jeonghan sat back, leaning against a hand and scratching his brow as he breathed heavily.

"bathtub cuddle puddle?"

you laughed, chest heaving as you looked over to him, but it was seokmin who spoke. "that sounds nice."

he started to get suspicious when his birthday got closer.

jeonghan told you to suggest a dinner outing for that night to divert attention, but he had caught you moving one of the guitars for the music room only a few days before his birthday, and he looked at you with squinted eyes when he asked if it was for him and you hurriedly said no, hiding the guitar behind your back despite him clearly being able to see it.

"i panicked," you told jeonghan, eyes wide. "he saw it in me. he could tell it wasn't just the guitar."

"it'll be fine, y/n," he said, pushing around potted plants until they satisfied him. "he has to think it's weird that we haven't let him see this room yet, anyways."

you chewed your cheek, looking around the almost completed sunroom. the tall windows showed the light snowflakes falling from the sky, not quite thick enough to leave a layer but enough to make the enclosed yard look slightly pastel. despite the open space that looked out into the cold seoul winter, it stayed cozy, heat radiating from the floorboards and the faux fur rugs laid across them. the space near the entrance had a raised floor with a grand piano, along with several guitars hanging upon the wall, while the area partially covered by the balcony had two heavily cushioned, dark heather gray couches and a bright armchair, adorned with pillows and cable knit blankets.

jeonghan had a slight obsessive nature when it came to his home projects. he was meticulous with contracts, too, but he truly wanted this house to be perfect - not just for him, but for the people he loved. so you watched him rearrange pillows about four more times before you ran up the stairs to the loft to see if he had changed anything there since you had looked the day before.

it almost felt as though it was outdoors, with plants hanging off the edge of the railing and the rustic desk he had originally picked for your office placed to one side. you imagined doing schoolwork here, fantasizing slightly about watching seokmin play piano from your vantage point as you wrote essays. you slid open the glass doors to peek into your new office.

he had painted the walls white, taking a hint from the styling in your own apartment when he picked out a neutral toned couch and light wood shelving, your early graduation present of a computer set up spread across an L shaped desk. he had even paid to have your upright piano moved here, and cut into the next room over to give you more space for an electric drumset. you couldn't help but smile, imagining your friends coming over to record stuff with you. you had always felt strange about inviting them to your rich boyfriend's house, despite him insisting they were welcome, but he had really gone through the trouble of making a room so perfect for all of them that you had no choice.

and it was brighter, you thought. you had told him you worked better in bright spaces.

despite jeonghan's promises, the music room renovation felt like it was as much a gift for you as it was for seokmin. though, maybe he couldn't help it, when the reasons he loved you both overlapped so much.

you went to seokmin's apartment the next day with a bagged gift for him, arriving again right as his client was leaving, and you smiled at the same young man you had seen the first time you had come to visit seokmin. you knew his name now, not because you had spoken to him much, but because you had been told about him by his teacher, and you congratulated him on getting a gig the upcoming weekend.

"oh," jisung said, glancing between the two of you. "he talks about me?"

you laughed and gave him a fighting, seokmin looking upwards to hide his embarrassment as he ushered his student toward the door. "have a nice week, jisung! i'll try to be there this weekend," he said, throwing you a look as you giggled.

"it's not for guitar, you don't have to come," the younger assured. "but if you want to, bring your girlfriend!"

"yeah!" you said, putting your fists on your hips. "i'm getting you dinner for your birthday tonight, the least you can do is take me to an underground rap show!"

"okay, both of you, no more talking," seokmin said, trying and failing to prevent jisung from stopping in his tracks at the news that it was his birthday.

"woah, teach, happy birthday!" he laughed. "you weren't gonna say anything?" he kept talking even as his teacher pushed him out of his apartment.

you couldn't stop grinning when the door closed, seokmin turning to you. he pointed at you, trying to hide his smile as he could only get out a vaguely annoyed "you."

"happy birthday, baby," you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. he softened against you, smiling as you pulled away, his hands on your waist as he thanked you quietly.

"he asks about you a lot," seokmin said, joining you when you laughed at the fact. "i think he has a crush on you."

you rolled your eyes. "stop bragging about me, then."

"i don't brag," he said, smiling into another kiss. "i just tell the truth. i can't help that you're a dream come true."

you only pulled away from him to grab the two thick paper bags that you had set on his couch. "c'mon, we gotta head out. open your presents."

seokmin's mouth dropped open when he saw the logo on the bag. "wait, you didn't."

"i had to," you said, giggling as he grabbed one and tugged it open, moving to the couch to pull the garment out. "you said you wanted it."

"where did you find one?" he asked, staring at the corduroy parka from the brand you saw him wear constantly. "they've been sold out for weeks!"

"i got it before then, duh." you poked his cheek when he pouted at you, his eyebrows knit. "there's more, stop getting distracted."

seokmin hugged you extra tight as a thank you for his romantic crown haul, and he decisively pulled on the golden yellow shirt with the pizza on the back, making you grin at how perfectly jeonghan had predicted his thought process before you dragged him out of his apartment to go get dinner.

"we're just picking it up," you said, jangling a keychain. he gave you a quirked eyebrow, and you giggled, pulling him over to jeonghan's car. "do you wanna see it self drive?"

you pushed the side door closed with your butt and called out to jeonghan, saying the birthday boy was here. seokmin took the pizza boxes from your arms and put them on the kitchen counter as jeonghan walked around the stairs.

"well one of us has to change," jeonghan said facetiously, and seokmin looked down at the yellow shirt peeking through his half zipped parka, looking back up at jeonghan, who was wearing the same shirt.

"wait wait wait," you giggled, turning around to undo the zipper of your own jacket, pulling it open as you spun around to reveal that you, too, were wearing the shirt.

seokmin looked between you two with wide eyes, his eyebrows creasing. "you got us matching shirts?"

"pizza shirt gang!" you giggled, stripping off your jacket. "do you like them?"

he smiled into a disbelieving laugh. "how did you know i would put it on?"

"because we know you, minnie," jeonghan said, reaching for his hand after he took off his new coat. "before we eat, i finished the sunroom today, wanna see it?"

"hang on," seokmin stopped, making his hand fall from jeonghan's. "that's not the gift, right?" he looked at you. "the sunroom isn't the gift?"

you pursed your lips, looking at the ceiling, and seokmin started to argue, making jeonghan laughed. "who cares if it's for you, i just want you to come look at it."

jeonghan is pretty sure he always loved seokmin. it wasn't something he would ever be able to change about himself, he figured, as he watched his lover cover his face with his hands, sinking to crouch on the floor as his eyes looked around the large room that was lit by fairy light. the first thing he had seen was the piano, which made him gasp, then he saw the guitars, and looked at your smiling face, suddenly connecting dots, unable to stay standing from the shock as he understood why he hadn't been allowed to help.

and then he started crying.

the two of you ushered him to a couch, sitting him down as he sniffed back the tears. you sat beside him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and cooing, jeonghan crouching on the floor in front of him.

"i'm sorry," jeonghan said, smiling slightly as he gave him an apologetic look. "i didn't mean to overwhelm you."

seokmin choked on a laugh, wiping at his cheeks. "how did you think i'd react?"

"i don't think he thought about it," you whispered, knowing full well jeonghan could hear you.

"i got a little carried away," he admitted, hand rubbing comforting circles on seokmin's leg. "you're special to me, so i wanted to make something special for you."

"this," seokmin said, looking around, gesturing at his surroundings. "this?"

the older huffed out a laugh, almost embarrassed. "yeah, this."

seokmin laughed too, eyes wet as he looked into the other's. "i can't believe you would make something this incredible for me."

"you're incredible," jeonghan said. "i want you to feel welcome in my home."

"i couldn't believe the record wall, either," you offered when seokmin seemed speechless, pressing your cheek against the his shoulder, hand rubbing his back. "jeonghan's love language is a little unique."

seokmin sniffed one more time, studying jeonghan's face, his brow creasing ever so slightly. "holy shit, i'm in love with you."

your heart stopped as you pulled away slightly to look at him, then jeonghan, who was frozen.

"i didn't realize that's what this was," seokmin said, hand gripping the one on his thigh. "i knew i liked you, but this is-"

jeonghan rose quickly, seating himself at seokmin's other side and kissed him. "i love you," he said, thumbs wiping over his slightly damp cheekbones. "it's taken me years to admit it, but i love you."

seokmin kissed him again in response, his face feeling hot from the continued attention. he broke away, only to look around the room again, jeonghan studying his face with a smile as he did.

"i think," seokmin said, clearing his throat when the words came out weak. he looked to you, then to jeonghan. "i think this is the best birthday i've ever had."

jeonghan laughed. "we haven't even had the pizza yet."

300 notes · View notes

beholdme · 3 years ago

Text

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 17

Chapters: 17/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16]

The gallery hums with gentle energy, full of people drinking, chatting, considering the art on the walls. It's a strange little bubble, practically outside the real world.

Martin is standing alone for a rare moment when a voice comes out of the crowd.

"Can it be? Martin Blackwood, in the flesh."

Martin's blood runs icy at the long-buried voice, rising from his past like some kind of bad joke. Of all the times, in all the places, how could this be happening now?

He turns to find his worst nightmare, Peter Lukas, standing right there in the flesh.

"Peter?" He asks stupidly, eyes wide and heart pounding.

"My goodness, it is you. What an incredible surprise." Peter grins, oozing smultz and satisfaction. He looks Martin up and down like a prize cut of steak. "And here I was, thinking the art would be the best thing on display tonight."

"I-" Martin begins, in the hopes he can tell Peter to take a hike and disappear into the crowd. He wonders how angry Gerry would be if he simply walked straight out the door and called to explain from the safety of a taxi.

"It has been so many years. What is it? Six, seven?" Peter's voice booms, his barrel chest amplifying it across the gallery.

"Seven," Martin replies, far more quietly. He is terrified that Jon and Gerry will reappear at exactly the wrong moment, overhear precisely the wrong thing.

"Goodness! So long, and you're all grown up, aren't you? Like a good wine, only improved with a few years on you."

"Maybe that's because I was practically a child when you seduced me." Martin still whispers, but many years of anger and loathing have begun to bubble up inside of him.

"Now Martin, there's no reason to be like that. We were so good together. We could be, again." Peter steps towards Martin, hand outstretched to touch his arm.

"Mr Lukas," Gerry says, voice smooth and dangerous, inserting himself firmly at Martin's side. That part of him that fosters a keen awareness of his lovers blaring with alarm. "What brings you out this evening?"

"Oh Gerard, a pleasure to see you, as always." Pater's voice remains jovial, but his eyes crease at the interruption. "Martin and I were just having a little chat."

"No, we weren't," Martin says, his hand shaking where Gerry has interlaced their fingers.

"No?" Gerry asks, easy danger in his voice.

"No," Martin confirms.

"Mr Lukas, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I don't believe my partner appreciates seeing you here."

"Do you know how much money I sink into this artist? You can't ask me to leave." Peter's voice is still lilting and calm, but vehemence fills the words gradually.

"I don't give a flying fuck. Take a long walk off a short dock." Gerry advises him, best smile in place, voice verging on cheerful.

"Did your," Peter pauses to add disgust to his tone, " partner ever tell you that he used to be with me? That I used to pay him, to be with me?"

Martin goes absolutely pale.

"It is a shame when you have to pay for company, isn't it?" Gerry counters, not missing a beat, expression sunny and voice falsely sympathetic. "However, I'm afraid Mr Blackwood is rather occupied these days, with two boyfriends and a booming business. I believe his calendar is quite full."

"Whores never change. You think he's yours, but-"

All of a sudden, Jon appears from behind them and punches Peter with his full weight. Gerry, who has gotten into plenty of scraps with drunk idiots who won't keep their hands to themselves, is tempted to join in but thinks better of it. He pulls Jon back as Peter hits the floor heavily, and the room full of fancy art snobs goes very, very silent.

"Oh Christ," Martin mutters, voice as washed out as his complexion.

"What a to-do." Elias Bouchard arrives on the scene, suit impeccable, black shoes polished to a high shine. He stands with hands in pockets, gazing down at Peter with a look of mild interest. "You know Jonathan, I don't normally appreciate my employees striking my husband in public. However, I'll consider forgiving you, this time, on account of your surprisingly excellent right hook."

"Your what?" Jon demands furiously, going pale enough that Gerry is concerned he might pass out.

"My husband, Jonathan, do keep up," Elias responds, airily.

Martin makes a distressed little noise that makes the hairs on Gerry's arms stand on end.

Gertrude finally arrives, heels clicking intimidatingly. "Problem, gentlemen?" She queries, looking down at Peter, groaning on the ground.

"Ah," Gerry stutters, "I think we had better go?"

"I imagine that might be for the best. Do take both of your lovers with you." Gertrude says, with a bit of a bite. "And Gerard?"

"Yeah?" Gerry asks distractedly, trying to herd his errant partners among the gathering crowd.

"You are going to owe me for this one," Gertrude tells him, tone unbelievably prim, and verging into some sort of perverse satisfaction.

"Absolutely." If Gertrude can fix this one, Gerry will happily owe her anything.

Martin sits in a total haze on the way home, static filling his ears and blanketing him away from the world.

He's faintly aware of Jon holding his hand and his forehead leaned against the cool taxi window, but mostly he just stares blankly and doesn't even bother trying to draw himself away from his shocked stupor.

He gets out of the cab when it stops and wanders vaguely up the stairs and into the flat. Jon and Gerry follow him, concerned, but quiet for the time being.

He finds himself standing at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the loft, eyes intent on the bottom step, unsure if he knows how to climb them any longer.

"Martin? Martin!" A panicked voice eventually breaks through the haze, a hand desperately gripping his elbow.

"Jon?" Martin looks down at the hand, nails painted a lovely shade of green, then up at the face it belongs to. It's creased in concern.

"Are you alright?" Gerry's voice asks from close by.

"No. I don't think I am." His voice is foggy and he feels very far away still.

"Martin, I-" Jon starts, sounding shaky.

"He was telling the truth, you know." Martin tells them, rather abruptly, "Nothing he said was a lie."

"Martin, you are not a whore. Whatever you might have done for work, whatever choices you might have made in the past, those things don't mean anything to us." Gerry states firmly.

"We love the person you are now, and whatever baggage comes with you, we're fine with that." Jon continues, running his hands up and down Martin's arm.

"This?" Martin asks, suddenly aggressive. "You two are telling me that you're okay with me getting paid for, for-"

"For sex, Martin? Yes, we are fine with it." Jon responds unequivocally.

"There's nothing shameful about sex work," Gerry adds, voice equally firm. "And besides, you were young and Peter Lucas is a fucking cunt. I imagine desperate times called for opportunistic creeps to try to take advantage."

Martin shakes his head, eyes panicked. "I can't do this."

He turns and runs up the loft stairs.

Jon and Gerry watch him go, then exchange a concerned look.

"Let's give him some space, love," Gerry mutters, taking Jon's hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Maybe you should go in with him."

"Don't even start that bullshit again, Jonathan. I thought we were past this?"

"I am! I just thought-" Jon's cuts off abruptly, chastised.

Martin, sitting on the floor of the shower, can hear every word. He can imagine them standing on the other side of the bathroom door, Jon twisting his hands together and Gerry's arms crossed protectively.

He feels the pit of his depression open up beneath him and he desperately clings to the edge of his sanity, trying not to fall in.

Martin is always afraid that he'll go into a depressive episode- and never come out the other side again. He presses his eyes closed, fighting against the sob desperately trying to choke him.

He honestly can't believe that he let this happen. Why didn't he tell them before? How could he have let himself move in with them, dedicated himself to them and never tell them he was a prostitute?

Martin isn't ashamed of what he had done to survive, but he knows getting paid for sex can be a deal-breaker for a lot of people. He feels sick that Jon or Gerry might feel trapped with him now. All because he couldn't open his stupid mouth and be honest with them.

Despite his best efforts, the tears escape, and his partners stand on the other side of the door, listening to his heart break.

Martin comes downstairs to find his lovers in the kitchen. Jon is cooking something fragrant and he has Gerry chopping vegetables. They're both still wearing their suits, and Martin feels absurdly underdressed in his sweatpants and favourite pink cardigan. It clashes with his hair, these days, but he doesn't care.

Gerry sees him first, pausing a moment to assess him. Martin is pleased to see the typical glint of focus and desire in his eyes. It has been such a bedrock in their relationship, and he had been dreading finding gone.

"Gerry, if-" Martin starts right away.

"Careful, love. If the words 'I'll understand if you don't want me to move in any more' come out of your mouth, I'm going to go back to the gallery and finish what Jon started. So if you don't want me to go to jail for murder, you had better reconsider." Gerry sounds downright pleasant as he says the words, leaning forward on the counter to loom threateningly.

Martin closes his mouth, Gerry having predicted his exact words.

"We understand if you're not ready to talk about any of that, Martin," Jon tells him with a reassuring smile. "Later is soon enough. We love you, and that's all that matters."

"Even with this?" Martin whispers, twisting his fingers together anxiously.

"Even with this," Gerry assures him. "Nothing and no one can change the way we feel about you. It's always going to be you for us."

Finally seeing that Martin won't approach them, Jon turns off the stove and comes over to take Martin's frigid hands in his warm calloused ones. He savours the touch, marvelling as always that someone with so many edges can be so soft when he needs it.

"Martin Blackwood, you are the love of our lives. Whatever came before us and whatever might come now that we're together, we love you, always and in all ways." Jon pronounces, the finality of a million acts of affection behind his words. "Please stay with us?"

Martin smiles shakily at the reminder of the resolution of Jon and Gerry's first major fight, at the words that had become akin to 'I can't be without you, and I won't let this take you away'.

He feels known and loved and adored, even as he feels violated and striped raw at the exposure of his past, his secret. He feels at home, in a flat full of boxes that always smells of oil paints and old books, with two lovers who couldn't be more different but had protected him when he didn't know how to protect himself.

Gerry comes over and takes one of his hands from Jon, holding it with both his own, placing a kiss on his palm. "Please stay with us?" He repeats the words softly, teal eyes bright with emotion. "I need you."

"I need you too," Martin tells them earnestly, allowing them to wrap him up in their arms. "Please keep me."

"Always," comes the reply, a certainty even more profound than fear.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #fic #also on ao3 #repost cause I'm an idiot

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supermanshield · 4 years ago

Text

But not all of them, he loves

~~~

If anyone’s heart is big enough to love two people, it’s Clark’s.

~~~

This deals with polyamory and open relationships. Clark/Lois and Clark/Bruce. The main focus of the fic is Clark/Bruce, but it’s angsty.

Words: 2,896

A/N: The timeline/continuity on this is weird, maybe. The boys are still quite young (I imagine them at the end of their 20s in this), have maybe been superheroing for a couple years max. There is a league.

Read on AO3

______________________________________________

Jimmy’s chosen the place. He’s absolutely star-struck and aware of the company he’s in, but keeps it cool as he leads their little party into a relatively quiet bar in downtown Metropolis. Barry had suggested a karaoke place in Tokyo, and Clark had to remind him that not everyone he wanted to invite would be able to fly, run, or teleport there. So, Barry is here, in civvies, and Hal with him. Behind them enters an eerily human-looking J’onn, and John Stewart, even though he’s not in the league anymore, but he tells a damn good story and Clark wouldn’t want one of his closest friends to miss his bachelor party. Pete has flown out here all the way from Smallville, just for him.

As if by miracle, Bruce has shown up too, although he keeps looking over his shoulder when they’re still out on the street, high-collared jacket and baseball cap obscuring his face. Clark is happy to see him take it off once they’re inside, but some of that fades when he notices the stiches above one of his eyebrows and makeup covering a bruise on his left cheek.

When they’re all finally settled around a large table tucked into the back of the bar – it’s quiet, even for a Friday, but you can never be too careful, and Clark is happy he let Jimmy choose the location because he obviously knows his way around Metropolis nightlife – Oliver walks in, large grin plastered onto his face. Bruce looks as if he wants to castrate him, grumbles something about discretion and leaving any society reporters at the door. The two billionaires argue back and forth a bit, Clark hears Oliver mention something about it being fine that he parked his helicopter on top of the Metropolis branch of Wayne Enterprises, and yes. They’re complete. The night of his bachelor party is underway.

Lois is with Diana, Cat, and a couple of other friends. Clark has offered to let everyone choose, they didn’t have to do the traditional men-women thing, but Diana said she would choose Lois’ bachelor party over his any day of the week. To which, of course, Lois was absolutely rub-it-in-your-face for about a week. That Wonder Woman wanted to party with her, and not with him, and somewhere, Clark can’t wait to hear what they’re getting up to right now. Everything at its time, though.

He orders everyone a round of drinks, Hal claps him on the back (which he immediately regrets and Clark is the one to apologize), there’s toasts.

“Are you nervous, man? I know I was,” Hal starts. “They say nothing changes, it’s just a piece of paper, blabla, but it does!” Everyone laughs. “I’m telling you, the moment you get back from your honeymoon, you’re knee deep in domesticity and no more going out.”

“I don’t think that will be much of a problem with Lois, Hal. Although we did have that a little bit when Jon arrived. But Lois couldn’t wait to get back out.” It’s Clark’s turn to laugh.

“If anything, she’ll start dragging you out to more things,” Jimmy adds gleefully and winks at Clark.

“Anyway,” Oliver starts, holds up his glass. “Last night as a free man!” Clark’s never really understood that. Lois has already captured him a long time ago in so many ways. All of them he loves, but he raises his half-empty glass anyway.

The table settles into a comfortable chit-chat, more jokes about Clark, stories of the early days of the league, memories and laughs. Somehow, his gathered and stray group of friends mixes surprisingly well, for which he’s grateful. Maybe this really won’t be so bad, and tomorrow will be the best day of his life (or so they say).

Amid the chatter, he looks at Bruce on the other side of the table, utterly out of place between their friends in a dark brown bar and jazz music playing softly. As Clark talks and laughs with the others, Bruce looks back at him. The gaze unsettles him, as it always does, makes him question things, as it always does. It shouldn’t. Not anymore.

(He’s chosen. A long time ago in fact. Lois is the one that waits for him, all the time. That doesn't turn him away. The one to make him laugh and feel at home in a city where no one knows each other. The one that holds him at night when the world has been too much. Bruce can simply never be that.)

---

“We should stop,” Bruce breathes, inch away from his mouth and the wall of the cave wet behind his cape.

“She’s okay with it.”

“To what extent?”

Clark sighs, swallows. “I don’t know, exactly.”

“That’s something you might want to consider discussing.” Bruce turns away before he can come up with a reply. The rock crumbles under his hand and Bruce tells him to leave when he reaches the computer.

---

“… and then Hal went and actually asked her for it! You should have been there!” The group’s laughter pulls him out of his thoughts and he laughs along meekly when Pete taps him on the shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.”

“Not getting cold feet are we, Clark?” Oliver asks.

He looks at Bruce. “No.”

The night eventually takes them back out onto the streets, half of them already stumbling as they make their way out of the small bar, but the cool night air sobers them up. Jimmy hangs onto Clark’s shoulders, Barry tries to jump onto his back for a piggyback ride, but Clark is fast to blur away, too fast for Barry, who, despite his fast metabolism, is a little intoxicated.

“So, what now? Night’s still young.”

“That it is, Hal. If you’re on the west coast.” Oliver has his hands in his pockets, Bruce’s cap is back over his eyes.

“Hey, supes can just fly around the world and spin back the clock a little, yeah?”

“You know I can’t actually do that, right? Ask Barry.”

“Nope, not tonight. I’ll throw up.”

“Not to mention you’ll mess up big time.”

“Any other good joints around here, Jimmy?” John asks.

“Plenty. What do you say, Clark? Another bar? Something more adventurous?”

“I have an apartment close to here,” Bruce cuts in. “Bar’s fully stocked.”

“Of course you do.”

“Don’t you?” Bruce raises an eyebrow at Oliver. “Comes in handy when I have to keep an eye on a certain Superguy around here.”

The small crowd looks at Clark, awaiting answer. “Sure,” he shrugs. “It has a nice view.”

---

Lois is pregnant at home on the couch and he’s in an unfamiliar bed, away from her. The apartment feels cold, not kept by Alfred, and only illuminated by a bright moon streaming through the sheer curtains draped across large windows. The bed sheets are white, the walls light, and the corners angular, modern. A bigger contrast with Bruce’s bedroom at the manor is near impossible.

“I don’t know what you want anymore, Clark,” Bruce says as he rolls away from him, sits up. “Don’t you like this place?”

“Bruce. You bought a penthouse in downtown Metropolis. For what? To be closer?”

“It seemed convenient.”

“Don’t talk to me about convenience when I could fly to Gotham in less than a minute.”

“You know what I mean.” When the baby arrives.

“Bruce,” he starts again. But gets stuck, because what does that mean? He swallows, makes a decision in the span of a second. “I won’t be here. He’s going to need a dad. Lois needs me.”

“Okay. That’s clear.” Bruce gets up. “Okay,” he says again as he walks to the bathroom.

Yet after that, there’s the bed, cold and warmed up by their bodies on a chance night, or a take-out dinner on the couch, a documentary running quietly on the large flatscreen TV while they talk. Lois never asks, but only because she knows. Jon grows healthily, strong, Lois falls asleep in Clark’s arms, and he feeds Jon in the middle of the night.

---

Now, the apartment smells clean, the fridge is empty but the pantry fully stocked. And the bar, as Bruce said. Two couches face each other in front of large windows, Clark knows which door leads to the bedroom. He doesn’t look at it.

Bruce switches on all the lights, it floods the place in yellow. It’s bright in a way Clark’s never seen it, he realizes. He pulls out a couple of bottles, asks the others what they want. A mirror of Brucie Wayne, host and not how Clark has ever seen him, here.

“You been here before, Clark?” Jimmy asks.

“Yes,” he admits.

“Sweet place.”

The group gets comfortable on the couches, Bruce suggests they could play pool, and Clark has a hard time imagining Bruce doing anything so casual. He wonders if he’s good at it, if he’s played here before, with anyone else. The pool table is new.

John draws up some kind of a tournament, teams are formed and bets are placed. Clark sits on one of the couches next to Bruce, watching the others play, another beer in hand and Bruce has started a glass of whiskey. He’s savouring it, clearly enjoying the flavour and laughs at Barry’s jokes, J’onn’s overly serious tactics at the pool table. Clark can’t get a grasp on how normal Bruce looks, how calm, as if nothing will change tomorrow. Here, of all places and it’s somehow not fake.

He realizes, Bruce brought them here to abandon the illusion that were those slow, quiet nights. It’s a normal apartment, he says with this. It will be, now. After tomorrow. A comforting thought as much as a terrifying one.

The cashmere of Bruce’s turtleneck is soft under his fingers when he reaches out to him and there’s a glint in his eyes that Clark is unable to read, hasn’t seen in a long time.

“Can I try a glass of that too?”

“I didn’t know you were into whiskey.”

“Hey, it’s my bachelor night. I got taste buds.”

Bruce smiles. “Sure.”

Clark leans against the large island counter as Bruce reaches for a whiskey glass that he could have easily found himself.

“It doesn’t have to end,” he says to Bruce’s back.

“Doesn’t it.”

The soft kitchen light hits Bruce’s shoulders just so, accentuates his jaw, and makes him yearn for simpler times. Bruce on one of the bar stools, humming as he tastes the food Clark’s cooked for him, same light, same cashmere sweater. Who was the one to complicate it anyway? Briefly, Clark wonders if he’s made a mistake by asking Lois to marry him, but no. Bruce is the mistake. Clark was just the one to make it.

“I mean,” he starts. “I don’t know. What difference does marriage make, anyway?” Clark laughs. It comes out hollow.

“This ended a while ago, Clark. Tonight is merely closure.”

Bruce is right, of course. “Okay.”

Bruce hands him the glass, their fingers touch, and that’s it. He sends him a look, one that says are you, though? but Clark doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just walks back to the living room. It’s his turn at pool.

Not an hour later Clark finds himself on the bed, the carpet in front of him only illuminated by the faint light reflected off the clouds over Metropolis. Raindrops stick to the large windows as they trickle down, and isn’t that ironic? Rain in Metropolis the night before Superman gets married.

“Thought I might find you here.” Laughter and yelling drift into the room before Bruce quietly shuts the door again.

“I just needed a minute to come to terms with the fact that we just... broke up, I think?”

Bruce stays in the middle of the room. “You knew that would happen. You chose.”

“I did.”

“Then stop with the guilt. I’ll be fine." His expresssion softens. "I have a kid to take care of now, too.”

“He’s great,” Clark smiles. “I know you will be.”

“Worried about yourself then?”

“I think I’ll just miss you. Miss this.”

Clark gets up and walks past Bruce. The glass of the window is cold under his touch, the street far below them. Bruce's fingertips white, his palm pressed flat again the glass, same view. He kisses Bruce's neck, tells him he loves him. He chooses those moments carefully, when it barely registers, when Bruce is almost physically unable to respond. But he makes sure he knows, anyway.

“Me too.” Bruce’s hand is on his arm now, turning Clark towards him. Bruce has captured him too, in many ways. But not all of them he loves.

(It’s hard to love Bruce Wayne. It’s hard not to love him.)

A tentative smile forms on Bruce’s face. “Last night as a free man, right?” Bruce’s offer is tempting, they’re already crowding each other’s space, heartbeats loud and it won’t take much more now. But that will only make it harder. Clark shakes his head. Still, he hugs Bruce closer, caresses his temple, mindful of the stitches on his brow. Bruce leans into the touch.

“Why does it feel so wrong to love two people, Bruce?”

Bruce huffs. “Society. Most people don’t have a big enough heart. Plus, partners cannot deal with the jealousy.”

“But you do.”

“I’m not Lois, nor is she me.”

They could never replace one another. Clark’s breathing feels restricted, his throat thick, in spite of Bruce’s comforting presence. “What if I don’t want to choose?”

“Then don’t.” Bruce’s hand moves up along Clark’s arm. “Then don’t.”

He isn’t sure who starts the kiss, but their noses touch, breathing the same air, lips brush. There’s no tongue. It’s not a start, not tonight. It’s an end.

“I’m sorry.” Sorry for loving you. Sorry for choosing Lois. Sorry for everything we did together.

“Don’t be.” Bruce is the one to make sure there is some breathing room between them again, his hand lingers. “You and I both know I've always been number two. And I... was okay with that. It was enough. In fact,” he chuckles. “It was almost too much.”

The cave is only illuminated by the blue light of the computer monitor as Clark lifts Bruce out of his chair, already fast asleep. Alfred watches from a distance and thanks Clark for arriving so fast. On those night, he sleeps next to Bruce, just to keep him in bed. On nights that Bruce pushes him away, stuck in a case and his anger almost palpable, even Superman admits defeat. Clark waits for him upstairs and eventually leaves through the window before dawn to go back to Metropolis, bed unslept in.

He’ll make sure Bruce is fine without him. Alfred knows who to call.

“I want to move out to the farm with them. Jon needs room to grow. Rao knows I did.” He smiles at the memories of Kansas, yellow fields and endless sky where he learnt to fly, where he could be himself.

“Stubborn. Thinking you can take Lois out of the city.” Bruce doesn’t know they’ve already talked about it. “But that’s good. I’ll make sure to visit with Dick and Alfred.”

“We can play baseball.” Outside, the rain has stopped, the sky slowly turning lighter.

Bruce throws him something as he walks back to the door. The key to the apartment. “Stay here tonight.”

“It’s morning.”

“Whatever. I’m going home, I’ll see you at the wedding.”

“Catch some sleep,” Clark tries before Bruce opens the door, but he’s already gone.

In the living room, the others are in various states of consciousness. John and J’onn, back in his alien form, are still wrapped up in their game of pool, Barry and Hal asleep on the couch and Jimmy and Pete passed out on the other. The coffee table between them is littered with beers and glasses. Oliver has his forehead on the cool marble of the kitchen island. He turns his face to Clark.

“Bruce just left without saying anything. What happened?”

Clark thinks, shrugs. “Not important. He gave me the key, we can stay here until we’re ready to go to the wedding in a couple hours.”

“A couple hours…” Oliver groans.

“Is that an early wedding gift, Clark?” John asks from over by the pool table.

Clark looks at the key in his hand. “No,” he chuckles. “I’m pretty sure he’ll want it back.”

“I’ll never understand the guy.”

“Don’t even try. That’s what we have Clark for,” Oliver says to the marble counter.

“I mean, I like to think I’ve got a pretty good grasp of him, but he surprises me too.” His soft insides contrasted by a hard shell, blackened by trauma and the night. His cryptic language that is like a puzzle for Clark to unfold, understand, reciprocate. They’ll still have that, have friendship. And the memories of time spent together.

In the distance, he hears Bruce’s heartbeat speeding back to Gotham. With him, doubt that leaves Clark, replaced with a light and excitement. He looks out the window up at the blue sky over the city. He’s getting married today.

He regards his friends, a bunch of gathered individuals, outcasts like himself who have found each other through Clark, through the purpose of trying to do good. “Who wants breakfast? I’ll go get eggs.”

#superbat #write write #clois endgame but superbat also endgame but clark makes a choice #you know when you make yourself cry... i hope i make all of you cry too #please address all complaints to detective comics comics

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greyfix · 4 years ago

Text

One More Chapter 3: He What?!

Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 3.5, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 (if it’s not linked it’s not out yet)

Ao3

Summary: Midoriya overhears Todoroki talking to Jirou about his feeling towards both him and Bakugou. What will he do with all this weighing on his mind, along with his new relationship with Bakugou?

Word Count: (All chapters including unpublished ones) 4,215

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Polyamory, Swearing

Author’s Note: So, This is like one of the fics that i’m most proud of. But alot of people dont notice that it is the Sequel to Katsuki, Katsudon and Kisses and that it picks up right where it left off in The Next Morning. All of the chapters should be out by 02/25/21.

Katsuki was bound to notice at some point. And he did. They were laying there on Katsuki’s bed watching Pacific Rim. One of their favorite movies to watch together. They would talk about what would have happened if they were the ones drifted in Gypsy. If there would even be Jaegers if Kaijus were a thing in the current world. How the pro heroes would handle it. How they would handle it. But this time Katsuki noticed that Izuku wasn’t as excited about the movie as he normally is. He’s been noticing this alot lately. How Izuku just gets in his head. It seemed odd to him because he knew Izuku better than anyone. When Izuku cares about something he is passionate. And bold. He cares about being a hero. So he’s bold when it comes to challenges in this area. But Izuku isn't like that around Katsuki. At least not any more. He seems out of it. More than once has he caught Izuku muttering about it, but the words were intelligible. So he decided to finally say something about it, after all these days, he paused the movie. “Hey.” He tried to catch Izukus attention. But the boy didn't notice. “Hey, Izuku.” Izuku looked towards Katsuki. “Yes Kacchan?” “Is something wrong?” Katsuki spoke softly. Something he didn't do often. “You’ve been acting weird lately. You’re not sleeping either, I can tell. Something is on your mind. And if it’s about me. If I’m not like you thought I’d be, you don't have to stay, I understand. I know I don't deserve you-” “Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed, “No! I love you. That hasn't changed. I made the first move, don't forget that. I wouldn't have done that if I didn’t want you. I just- there’s been something on my mind. And I just don’t really know how to tell you, even though I know I should.” “You can tell me anything.” Katsuki cringed at how cheesy he sounded. “I know Kacchan.” “So then do it. I want to know. And even you just said you probably should tell me. Izuku sighed. He knew katsuki was right. “Okay.” Izuku stated bluntly. They both sat up and faced each other, closing the laptop sitting on the bed. “But-” he continued, “You have to promise me. You won’t say anything until I am finished speaking. Not a word. Because this is really important.” Katsuki was about to protest when Izuku interjected. “Please.” he begged. The blonde boy just growled, “Fine.” “Thank you.” Izuku fidgeted a little bit, trying to figure out how to word this in the most gentle way possible. “Spit it out” Katsuki sighed and motioned for Izuku to hurry the fuck up. “Todoroki likes me.” Izuku spoke and as Katsuki realized what he said he opened his mouth to speak but Izuku beat him to it. “But he likes you too.” That stopped Katsuki in his tracks. He was about to talk when Izuku reminded him, “You promised.” Katsuki nodded. “I walked past his dorm one morning and overheard him talking to Jirou. It was just after everyone found out about us. He was crying. Crying about how he loved you and loved me and now we’re together. He said he’s happy for us, but he was also heart broken. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it afterwards. I thought about all of the possibilities. He didn't really like us, maybe he was just joking. I tried to convince myself, but I knew. He was sobbing. I could hear the hurt in his voice, Kacchan. “I thought, ‘No, it isn't possible for someone to like more than one person at a time.’ I thought about this for days. And unconsciously I began watching Todoroki. Analyzing him. How he became more distant from me, and he never really smiled anymore.

“I asked myself, ‘Is it morally right? Thinking about Todoroki this much, when I’m with you?” He heard Katsuki suck in a breath, “I know I love you, that is a fact that hasn't changed since we were kids. And it’s not going to change in the future. But I caught myself noticing new things about Todoroki. How he holds himself, the way his hair falls into his face. Soon I began to notice that I was unconsciously watching him when he was in the room. I spent hours and hours just thinking about all of this. All of this information crammed into my mind, all of these thoughts overwhelming me.

“I spent the nights researching, filling notebook after notebook. And I learned things. I learned about polyamory. Polyamory is being in multiple relationships, with everyone's consent. Like three way relationships. Everyone is okay with it, and often they all end up with the same people.

“In learning this, I came to terms with my attraction and feelings for Todoroki, and his feelings for us. Todoroki doesn’t know I know all of this. And if it’s okay with you. After you process all of this, I would like to approach him about it.” Izuku finally finished. “You can talk now”

Katsuki stayed silent for a moment. “This is what you’ve been thinking about”

Izuku just nodded.

“So, IcyHot likes me, but he also likes you, but you also like him and me. And you want us all to date. But he doesn't know you know.”

“Yes. Kacchan, I love you so much, and if you’re not comfortable with this, I will let it go. We’ve waited so long to be together-”

“No, Izuku. You wouldn't be happy. You like Half n’ Half, that’s something I have to accept now. I can’t force you to be with me.” “I want to be with you Kacchan.”

“But you also want to be with him. And he wants to be with you.”

“He wants to be with you too,”

“I know, Izuku, you keep saying that. But this is a lot to think about. I can still barely process the fact that you can tolerate me, let alone Icy Hot. Not to mention the fact that he likes you too and I don't know how I feel about that. Izuku, this is a lot to process.”

“I know Kacchan, believe me I know. If you need time-”

“I do. Just give me some time to think about things. I don’t know how I feel yet”

“Okay. Thank you kacchan. For not blowing up and overreacting about this. Most guys would just break up with me on the spot.”

“Well not me,” Katsuki looked into izuku’s wide green eyes. “I love you too much for that.”

#tags #ugh #todobakudeku #my hero academia fanfic #whatever #cover me in paper cuts and throw me in a pool in lemon juice

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acesophiewalten · 5 years ago

Text

Audrey

Hey, everyone!

So, this whole thing started when I was going through a really awesome blog, @hazbin-hotel-imagines, and I saw the Lucifer x Angel!Reader hcs. I came up with a full character for the angel, and I wrote something on it!

WARNING: This gets angsty at the end. Some descriptions of cuts, scrapes, bruises, and broken bones.

It isn’t okay, someone help Lucifer

The oneshot is under the cut, I’m sorry if it’s bad. Hope you like it!

Audrey

That was the name bestowed upon her, the older angels buzzing around this new arrival. Her wings flapped excitedly, her feathers in colors of royal blue, gold, and deep, blood red. Her skin was nearly flawless and her eyes held depth before their color could be assessed. Among the crowd of angels around her, there was one whose heart suddenly beat faster and faster as she looked at him, smiling kindly. He felt like he needed to touch her, hold her, kiss her, his fingers suddenly tingled.

God’s voice boomed over them all, “Lucifer, come forward.”

He walked forward, his legs shaking slightly as he approached her. She smiled wider at him, lips stretching, and he wasn’t sure why someone like her was allowed to even be in his scope of vision. He wanted to feel her, this new angel, this new being who looked at him with so much love. That was what it was, no doubt about it, the shine in her eyes and the glow on her face were both clear signs. He’d heard about it.

God said, almost approvingly, “I made her for you.”

She gave Lucifer a wide, wide smile, pushing her shining locks of auburn hair behind her ears, and she walked towards him. He was stuck in place, his rosy cheeks growing even redder with his blushing, and she walked so she was directly in front of him.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she said.

Her voice was smooth, high, pleasant to listen to. But to him, him, it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. He cupped her face in his hands, her eyes were baby blue and there was the faintest blush on her cheeks. She brought up her hands, putting them over Lucifer’s,

“Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

His own yellowing eyes widened, and he nodded quickly. He wanted to feel her lips on his skin, to see what they felt like.

She leaned forward and gave a quick kiss to his temple, while smoothing back his white-blonde hair back. What really shocked him was that she just asked him, not God, this intimacy had to normally be approved first. But no, no, she just assumed that her creator would like it if she started to show affection to the angel she was supposed to be with.

Her lips were gorgeous, and he felt the adoration radiating off where she kissed. He stopped cupping her face only to hold her hands, and she held back tightly. His smile was wider than it had ever been.

“What do you think?” She asked, widening her eyes lightly.

She was giving herself a look of extreme innocence, he realized, and he leaned so that they were pressed up against each other. He wanted to hold her forever, she was smaller and would be easy to pick up.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

__________________________________________

That was just the beginning. Neither of them seemed to be alone anymore, for she was always near him, her hands intertwined with his or cuddling up to his arm. Yet, they always went a little too far by angel standards, for every session of cuddling turned into them trying to figure out how humans made sex look so easy, every kiss turned hungry, encouraging words turned to the most blatant and terrible attempts at seduction both of them had ever heard.

Their topics of conversation, other than who could fuck the best when given the proper education, were normally about taking over heaven.

There was one instance in particular, when they were up in the middle of the night sitting in one of heaven’s many gardens, and he said to her, “I could run this place better.”

She raised her eyebrows, black eyelashes fluttering in the wind, “I don’t believe it. I mean - how would you even get control of this place? Are you going to shoot at their knees?”

He smiled, laughing slightly, “You’re shorter than I am!”

“So, I’ll shoot at their knees and you aim up at the chest?”

“How’d you guess my entire plan?”

She rolled her eyes, huffing with that gorgeous smile on her face, “If you take over, I’ll be out of here. I’d rather be in Hell.”

“Hell, Aud? You hate me that much?”

She quickly moved closer to him, head resting on his shoulder.

“My love, my Luci, I loathe you. I regret not getting rid of you when I had the chance.”

They both dissolved into chuckles, for her joking tone and wide, ear-to-ear grin said it all. He hoped, and he believed, that she loved him, and he wanted her to hope and believe and understand that he loved her as well.

“Why’d you want to go to Hell, anyways? I hear it’s one big wasteland.”

“It’s got a stable monarchy. The queen’s richer than all of us combined, and really hot.”

“Are you going to leave me for the Queen of Hell?”

“Not exactly. Maybe we could both marry her.”

“Are you advocating that we commit polyamory with the fucking-”

“Fucking can be included too, yes.”

He laughed fully then, falling back, tears nearly running out of his eyes. When he laughed like that, full-scale, she always did it as well, and two angels drunk on happiness were suddenly laying down on the freshly cut grass. Words could not describe the sheer pleasantness of being with her, the joy of someone being able to make him feel unadulterated bliss if only for a few minutes. As soon as they’d calmed down, she reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers and moving herself next to him again.

“If you do take over,” she said, quietly, “you better not leave me out of it when you win.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

She smiled, “Lovely. I’ve always wanted to have obscene amounts of money and power.”

They both giggled, and all of a sudden she was on his lap, head resting in the crook of his shoulder. He placed a delicate kiss on her temple, smoothing her hair back with his left hand, it had become their special gesture of love, appreciation, or at least a message that they accepted each other, that nothing would ever happen as long as the other were around.

“I swear, Audrey, it’s going to be you and me, always. The moment I take over, you’ll be the best queen heaven’s ever seen. I promise.”

She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder again.

There were a couple minutes of silence before she said, “I love you too.”

__________________________________________

So much for promises.

The way down to Hell was punctuated by his screams, cries, attempts to claw himself back onto the clouds. The tears that fell from his eyes seemingly burned the ground, lighting it aflame, but he wasn’t just crying for himself being banished from heaven. No, it was his poor, screeching Audrey, hair thrown around wildly, eyes wide with fear and her small, delicate hands trying to reach out for him. He thought he wouldn’t mind this so much if she was with him, for at least he would still have her form to hold, her wavy hair to run his hands through, and they could tend to each other’s wounds while cursing out the ‘gracious’ God who threw them out. But He thought it was a good idea to separate them, to make Lucifer hear not only the jeers of other angels but also the pure sniveling sobs of his beloved.

His entire body seemed to ache, bloody scratches and gashes adorned his sickly pale skin, his forehead broke out in a sweat due to the heat and he was pretty sure his right arm was broken. Yet, he got up, looked around, and saw the Queen of Hell looking over him, curiously.

Her eyes themselves were half-lidded, silver, and gleaming. Her hair was white-blonde as well, going all the way down to her ankles in fluffy, straight strands. She was incredibly tall, and he could see that she towered over him, a foot or larger. Her skin was certainly flawless, too flawless, and her nose was small and pointed.

“I’m Lilith. Are you okay?”

He paused. Was he okay? Was he? He looked down, slowly, he definitely wasn’t physically okay. After all, his arm was bending the wrong way, bruises aplenty along with all of the aforementioned scratches and injuries. Yet, what was really wounded was his mind, and he looked up. There wasn’t even a deep red feather on its way down, and he looked her in her eyes, glimmering but flat. Flat. She was very pretty, though, skinny, two purple horns coming out of her head. She was so obviously a demon, succumbus variety, that was accepting her silent offer of help really worth it?

He sighed. He was near bleeding out, and he just realized that his feathers were falling off and his wing was bent. He really, really, really messed up, and this also was a pretty good way to climb up to being the king of this place. He should be productive down here, he figured, it would be one big fuck-you to God.

And it might impress her, if she ever saw him again.

He smiled, slightly, “No, I don’t think so.”

They became a couple a short time later, however it wasn’t like it happened overnight. It started off with her insisting that he stay over at the palace, (“You have no mobility in your arm, Luci.”) then he climbed into bed with her tentatively, (“I haven’t had my arms wrapped around someone in so long.”) and then them finally, eventually getting married (“I love you. I love you. I love you.”).

He wasn’t sure if he meant it or not.

__________________________________________

Of all places Lucifer expected Audrey to be, any part of Hell was not one of them.

He hadn’t talked with his daughter ever since they got into their fight about that damn redemption hotel, and he still wasn’t fully onboard with the idea. It was laughable, really, most demons wanted to stay in hell! He and his wife had managed to strike a deal a while ago with God, Hell could be a bunch of dead demons hanging out instead of being tortured. It was easier to rule.

Lilith didn’t exactly like the hotel idea, but she insisted on talking to her, sending money over when she could, and even going over once or twice, despite the fact that she didn’t really like it. He admired her loyalty for her daughter, sure, but their relationship happiness had started to wear off a while ago, and her ever-present love was starting to get on his nerves. He loved Charlie, of course he did, but when he tried to show it he was either utterly overblown or extremely underwhelming.

Another reason he wasn’t thinking of Lilith and Charlie a lot lately, and he tried to convince himself that this wasn’t the primary reason, was because his angel had bloomed large in his mind. His memories of her were slipping, although he still had her face memorized and he could almost feel her soft, glossy wings. But he was forgetting what her voice sounded like, he was forgetting what she liked and disliked, and it was driving him insane. He’d managed to get some photos of her, and he often stared at them, hoping she would pop out and he would tell him that she still loved him, that she didn’t care that he was now the king of a grimy, disgusting realm of demons. She didn’t care, she couldn’t!

And then, one day, it happened. Lilith was getting ready to go to a nighttime meeting, and she had her daughter on her phone, and Lucifer had to resist telling her to take the damn thing off speaker - for Charlie would be fine without talking to her for the day, and at least he wouldn’t have to listen to that peppy, sing-song voice talk about their tenants and managers and workers.

He was brushing his hair in the mirror, right after showering, trying not to listen or interject, and suddenly, he heard her. Wait - Her! Her! Her!

“Hiya, Your Majesty! How’re you doing?”

He now relearned what her voice sounded like. It wasn’t simply pleasant, it was the fury of falling snowflakes, the highness was the rising of the morning sun, the ease was a babbling, churning brook. He hadn’t seen any of those things in a while, yet he could perfectly envision them with the help of her voice. He was suddenly rushing to get on his best clothes and get the hell out of his mansion, he didn’t have time to explain to his wife why he was going out.

He had to see her. He had to love her, he would do absolutely anything to keep her by his side and not let her go. He wanted to do the things they couldn’t really do as angels, Audrey! Audrey! The name would finally be said through his lips again, and he would have her there, her warmth and her hair. The population would love her, and if they didn’t, well, he could technically kill demons. It wouldn’t be too hard.

He didn’t even have to step foot in the hotel, for she was already leaving. Her hair was cut, he realized that almost immediately, it ended just below her ribcage instead of going all the way down to her waist. But it was still auburn, still beautiful, and she wore a black tank top and some black leggings. He wanted to go up to her and grab her, kiss her, it was just like when he first met her. His entire arms tingled, now.

“Audrey! Audrey! Audrey!”

She turned around, and he promptly noticed that she didn’t look the same. Sure, her eyes were still the baby blue that he adored, but there were bags under them, and she looked considerably worn out. He wanted to hold her, consol her, tell his darling that she wouldn’t need to worry anymore. Wearing nothing but the finest clothing, dripping in the best diamonds and pearls, surrounded by silken clothing, and safe, safe.

“H-Hey!”

Her voice was slightly shaking, although he didn’t notice this. He simply grabbed her hand, kissing it, which he knew wasn’t necessary but he felt like he had to. Her hands were still warm, and beautiful, but she pulled them away quickly.

“Darling, I missed you so much…”

He tried to get a little closer to her, attempting to wrap his arms around her, yet she backed up. She took a breath in, looking around, she seemed to look for someone to save her. His smile faltered, what was wrong? Wasn’t she happy, too? Wasn’t she yearning for him, too? She must’ve been nervous, he assumed, but he wasn’t sure. Her smile was anxious, and she looked around again.

She looked at him straight in the face with visible effort, “Can we sit down? I need to talk to you about something.”

He grabbed her arms again, “Sweetheart, Aud, of course!”

His voice was a little too lively, he was running on pure ecstasy. It was her! Her! More overworked, more concerned, but her! He had to restrain himself from bending her over and worshipping her, he had to listen to her first. He wasn’t sure why she was looking so distressed, her hands looked to be in knots. She scrambled onto a bench, and he followed her, and he hoped his eyes showed the adoration he felt for her in that moment.

She took a couple of breaths, and he was starting to get worried. What was so terrible that his calm, sweet Audrey felt she had to make sure she was okay before sitting down to tell him? Was someone threatening her? He’d torture them, he’d drive them into the damn ground! But if it wasn’t that, what was so awful?

“I’m not in love with you anymore.”

Yep. That was it, if anything. His smile fell more, never reaching his ears and ending at his cheeks. What? What? How? He could hear his heart slowly breaking, she was rejecting him, wasn’t she? His claws were suddenly digging into his palms, what the hell was happening? She looked slightly happy to get it out, as if she had been holding it in for a while. This is what this whole thing was leading up to?

“W-Why?”

He tried to keep his cool, hoping that she was just making a joke. He’d forgotten what her face had looked like, when it was serious, and he just wanted to figure that she was kidding with him. He was waiting for her to laugh, to kiss him, to tease him for believing it. Instead, she started explaining.

“I - I don’t love you. I can’t lie to you, I don’t love you anymore. I’m sorry.”

Her voice was mournful, sad, she sounded like she was about to cry.

He grabbed her wrist, tightly.

“But - But why? What did I do?”

She sighed, “I moved on. I can’t lie to you and tell you I love you back. I - I thought you moved on too.”

He let go of her wrist, his hands were shaking madly.

“I couldn’t. Aud, you’re perfect, I wouldn’t ever,” he cut himself off.

He shouldn’t let her out of his sight. He should grab her and drag her off, make her his whether she liked it or not.

“Even if I still,” she paused again, “I still wouldn’t. I cannot. I have a life up in heaven, Lucifer, I couldn’t leave it for anything…”

His breath was hitching, his body seemed glued to the seat. Yet, she got up easily, scrambling, she took another breath.

“Do you want me to do anything?”

She pities you. She pities you.

“Could you - could you do the - the -”

She knew what he was talking about, as she leaned down and kissed his temple while smoothing back the hair she could find. But it was without any love, adoration, pleasure, acceptance, that little gesture didn’t do anything now.

He looked up, and her eyes had filled with tears.

She had run off before he could say anything else, her wings stretching out and allowing her to fly away at top speed. He reached out, but she was gone, gone, gone, and in hell’s moonlight he could realize that her feathers were still miraculously taken care of, still shining, still perfect.

He sat on that bench for the entire night, hoping she’d come back.

She did not.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #writing #inspired by another post #go check out the person that inspired this #why am I crying #this is bad I'm sorry #hazbin lucifer #hazbin lilith #this is so sad #audrey has a point tho #help #pls help

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oliverpdaniel · 4 years ago

Text

Let’s talk about casual homophobia.

I wanted to share a transcript of a TikTok video by a minor celebrity (I won't do them the honour of identifying them, but suffice it to say that this individual thrives mostly on controversy and poor publicity), to demonstrate what day-to-day homophobic language looks like. Many of these questions have been asked to me, or tell of real things that I've experienced, due to a generally callous view of queer folks. The quoted parts are the actual video, the unquoted responses mine.

Note in advance that some of these questions are clearly oriented towards gay men, but I am responding from the perspective of a bisexual man. Anyway...

"Okay, these are my questions for the gays – sorry, I was on Straight TikTok for a minute; what?"

Or, as you might like to call it, TikTok. For those unfamiliar, "Gay TikTok" is a small subset of the TikTok community that makes videos primarily revolving around in-jokes and shared experiences of the queer community. Thus, "Straight TikTok" is only extant in contrast, a joking reference to certain, overwhelmingly heteronormative parts of the TikTok community. While I'm not a big fan of the idea of 'ownership' or deciding who's allowed to say what, this (obnoxiously straight, in every sense of the word 'obnoxious') celebrity is trying somewhat unceremoniously to insert themselves into a narrative not their own here. Not off to a great start.

(1) "Would you care if your partner was bisexual?"

Whelp, this is one I can't really answer, can I? But, this still does lean into the old "gold-star" ideology of homosexuality, which makes it off-putting from the jump. For those unfamiliar, a "gold star" gay/lesbian is one who has never had sex with the opposite gender. This is a completely silly distinction, that fails to take into account personal circumstances, as well as – y'know – the fluid nature of human sexuality. TL;DR, even if you're exclusively into one gender, you shouldn't care about your partner's sexual orientation (other than, y'know, making sure it includes your gender) because, leaving aside the absolutely rad underworld of polyamory, they're only going to be into you while they're with you.

(2) "Have you ever been with someone of the opposite gender?"

Ah, more gold-starring! A great way to start. "You're trans? What's your deadname?"

(3) "Do you take offence when a girl calls you her Gay Best Friend?"

The Gay Best Friend is an expendable, non-threatening fount of femininity in masculine form, someone to go clothes-shopping with and who will give you sassy advice on boys. God forbid, however, that the Gay Best Friend try to be vulnerable with you about the difficulties of LGBTQIA+ life; they're only there for sashaying and making out with at parties, right? The Gay Best Friend is an incredibly harmful notion to men on both sides of the sexuality spectrum. Gay (and ESPECIALLY bi/pan/poly) men already know to fear the label, because of the dismissive treatment and expectation of performative homosexuality that comes along with it. Straight men should fight against it, too, because it's a symptom of the present hegemony of heterosexual relationships, which revolves around sexual transactionalism and a healthy dose of gender-role-fuelled intimidation[1]. (If you've never heard any of those words, you're probably the target audience here.)

(4) "Be honest – how many times has a straight person tried to hook you up with a gay person based solely on the fact that they're gay and no other compatibility requirements?" (with a devilish smile, into full blown "oh guuuuuurl" laughter)

This is a real thing that happens to people, myself included, all too frequently. It tells us that when you look at me, you don't think "Oliver", you think "Gay", and next time you meet another gay guy, that's the word ringing through your head. It's not funny. It's hurtful. If you're going to recommend a partner to me, make sure you actually have faith in a connection forming. As someone who ended up in an abusive relationship as a result of overzealous matchmaking, it's not something to be taken lightly; relationships, especially gay relationships and all the societal friction they inevitably entail, are not here for your endearment.

(5) "Are you down to hook up with someone who's 'just curious'?"

MORE gold-starring! God, could you imagine the uproar if a lesbian approached a straight person and said that they "missed dick" and/or wanted to experiment!? Oh, wait, that's already common in straight porn to the point of cliché. Gag; and not the good kind of gag.

(6) "Do you proudly wear the rainbow flag, or are you kinda against it because it kinda segregates?"

...what? When I first found this video, it was being duetted (TikTok's side-by-side video response) by a queer person, and at this point they took the opportunity to say, "I don't like you." I echo the sentiment.

(7) "Are you a 'yaaaaaas kweeeeen' gay or are you, like, 'fuck that shit what the fuck?'"

WE ARE NOT HERE TO PERFORM QUEERNESS FOR YOU. Leaving aside the sociolinguistic aspects of queer language and its intersection with (read: theft from) African-American Vernacular English, if people want to act flamboyantly gay, THAT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. If people want to act "normal" (read: heteronormatively!!!), that's NONE OF YOUR GOD DAMN BUSINESS. Queer people are fucking people, they act differently in different scenarios, and it's not for you to fetishize or to find "too much sometimes". When you accept a queer person into your life, you're accepting every facet of them into your life, for them to live and love unapologetically – not just the parts you find entertaining.

(8) "This might be a dealbreaker for me: do you like musical theatre?"

Yes. But even if I didn't – if I liked drinking beer and watching Nascar (sorry dad), but wish I had a boyfriend to do that with, guess what? That's my own fucking business. And, again, if your idea of a "dealbreaker" when engaging with a gay person is whether or not they like musical theatre – probably one of the most tired stereotypes about gay folks – and not, I dunno, if they're fun to be around and respect your boundaries and opinions, then maybe you're not looking for a gay friend for the right reason.

(9) "Be honest – do you still go through the Chick-Fil-A drivethrough and get that spicy chicken sandwich or those nuggies?" (big, face-scrunching smile.)

This is the one that REALLY got me. This displays just how tone-deaf this person is and how deeply they've objectified the concept of homosexuality for themselves. Chick-Fil-A is a massively homophobic organization from the top down, and they donate millions to organizations that want to bring into question my very right to exist, morally and legally.

As a straight person not affected by these issues, it's easy to say "well, I know I /shouldn't/ go to Chick-Fil-A because of the 'gay stuff', but oh IT'S SOOOOOO GOOOOOOOOD!". It's easy to momentarily forget one's morality because hey, it's not like you're directly hurting anyone, right? But, as a queer person who has to walk by the brand-new Chick-Fil-A at Yonge and Bloor every day on my walk to class, seeing the lines wrapping around the block lets me take direct measure of who, and how many, are willing to forget about me for just long enough to enjoy a fucking chicken sandwich. Go literally anywhere else. Eating at Chick-Fil-A is a choice, and it's a choice that informs me that you care less about my right to live than your own personal enjoyment.

(10) "Do you get upset when they have straight actors portray gay characters?"

This is a whole other debate, so I'm not going to get into the actual subject matter of this question. But hey – maybe, in an industry literally overrun with queer people, maybe we can stop converting a significant and pernicious problem in entertainment into a cutesy debate topic? Something really tells me that this person isn't going to start whipping out the intersectional feminist literature to explain their argument here. In all likelihood, it'll sound more along the lines of "but Eddie Redmayne looked so GOOD in that dress!"

(11) "And what's the GAYEST thing about you?'

Nope. Shut up and choke. I hate you.

Never tell me for a second that homophobia is "over" in Canada/the West/wherever. Never tell me that it's a distant issue, remaining only in far-off religious backwaters. This is what it can look like. Fetishization; dismissal; turning struggles for human dignity into pseudo-intellectual debates.

I'm not here to be your Gay Best Friend.

I'm not here to date your new gay acquaintance.

I'm not here to repeatedly explain to you my need to have rights.

I'm here for the same reasons you are.

I want to live and love, not to be treated like a toy.

Footnotes

[1] Okay, I'm obviously not saying that all straight relationships are built around sexual transactionalism and intimidation, nor am I saying that non-comphet relationships are not. But, in my experience as a reformed Gay Best Friend who has had to provide counsel to cishet friends over some INFURIATINGLY stupid relationship/courting issues, I would argue that a full ninety percent of them could be resolved if the experiencer simply viewed their partner/interlocutor/'tyng' as another human being, rather than being from the mysterious species that is The Opposite Gender.

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kflirts · 6 years ago

Text

two is better than one

paring: you x mingi x wooyoung

genre: smut

word count: 3.3k

warnings: polyamory, voyeur, voilence and blood mention, just . a lot of smut, sub!wooyoung appearance (not for long dw)

notes: yet another fic swap with cait.

Having two hot boyfriends is convenient for a plethora of reasons. For example, twice the cuddles, two Valentine’s day gifts, two good morning texts and of course, twice the sex.

Having two hot boyfriends is especially cool when the werido sitting next to you is using pick up lines he definitely googled 4 minutes ago. Mingi had promised beforehand that he would not get jealous tonight and you were free to talk and do what you please (not that you needed his permission, you never listened to him anyway), and Wooyoung swore to be nice, so you were looking forward to a night out with your boys, but this guy really seemed to think the vacant seat beside you was an invitation into your pants. At first it was cute, it was nice to be reminded you were still hot to strangers, but at this point you were praying for Mingi to notice the lack of space in between the stranger and yourself.

“Is that ass made of sugar? Because it looks sweet as hell.” The dude chuckled, arm brushing your own and you fought the urge to ask him to kiss it and find out. You offered half of a smile as you searched for Mingi in the crowd to plead for help.

“What’s your name?” He asks, leaning in towards you, and you made a few polite shifts backwards. Your mouth opens to tell him to stuff it up his rectum, but you’re interrupted with a warm hand on your shoulder. You silently thank Jesus as you turn to look into the face of Wooyoung, who looks less than thrilled.

“She’s seeing someone, buddy.” Wooyoung says nonchalantly.

“What? You sure? Because it looks like she’s kinda digging me.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head slightly at Wooyoung, who’s grip on you only tightened. You knew both Wooyoung and Mingi were jealous, not because they didn’t trust you, just because they’re fucking insane.

“Trust me. She’s not.” Wooyoung looks to the waitress, ordering a drink for the both of you, he seems disinterested with this guy, to say the least. “Oh, also. Your pickup lines fucking suck, dude. Like.. they’re awful.”

The male’s jaw tightens, and you instinctively press into Wooyoung more when his hand lands on your knee. Normally, you would have kicked him where the sun never shines and taken his future children away, but with Wooyoung, you allow him to take care of it. Less work.

And take care of it he does, grabbing the man’s wrist and forcefully pushing him back. This seemed to startle the man a little, him blinking surprised.

“Hey, look, dude. I’m not going to pick a fight with you over a bitch.”

“Well, that’s too bad, ‘cause I’m picking one with you.” Mingi’s voice seemed to boom, like thunder or drums, as he grabbed the less than thrilled man by his coat collar, practically dragging him out of the bar through a side door. You move to stand, calling Mingi’s name, feeling sorry for the poor guy, who was certainly going to have a fucked up face by the time Mingi was done with him.

Wooyoun stopped you, handing you a drink. “I wouldn’t go out there if I were you, ____.” He said, shaking his head. “We both know there’s no stopping Min once he’s started.”

You sighed. He was right. Mingi was normally a very mellow, sweet man, but when provoked, he was a force to be reckoned with. And you should know. You provoked him frequently.

After about 6 and a half minutes, with no sign of Mingi, you began to worry. The guy only deserved a 2 minute ass beating, tops.

“You’re worried.” Wooyoung observed, smiling softly at your face in the bar’s lighting.

“No shit.” You respond, glacing to the door again. “What if he like... killed him or something.”

“Mingi’s not that dumb, ____.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Okay, yeah. We should probably check on him.” Wooyoung laid down money on the counter, before grasping your hand and leading you out the front door, looking for any sign of Mingi or the guy. When neither of you spot them, you began panicking, calling his name loudly. Wooyoung was slightly less worried, opting to call his phone instead.

“There he is.” You half shout, half sigh, jogging to meet a slightly red and definitely pissed Mingi emerging from an allyway. “Where’s the guy?”

“Don’t worry about him.” Mingi shrugged, wiping blood off of his arms.

“What in the fuck?” You notice more blood splatters, and your pulse quickens. “Mingi, what did you do?”

“Let’s just say he won’t be going contacting any women anytime soon.”

“Oh my god. Did you kill him?” Wooyoung asks from behind you.

“What the fuck? No, I stole his phone.” Mingi scoffs.

“I forget sometimes that you’re kind of an asshole.” You sigh.

“Yes. Thanks for noticing. I put a lot of effort into maintaining that persona.”

“Why?”

“So I can scare dicks who hit on you.”

“Yandere much?” Wooyoung chuckles as you all walk to the car.

“Y’know, blood isn’t a good color on you.” Wooyoung comments, half looking at you and Mingi in the backseat, half focusing on the road. Mingi had insised you sit in the back with him, to “tend to his wounds” (a scratch on his knuckle).

“Excuse me, it’s definitely my color, the red brings out my eyes.” Mingi responds, wiping the blood off of his arms with the babywipes you insisted you keep in the car at all times.

You laughed out loud, shaking your head, causing Mingi’s eyes to wander over your face. Sometimes he wondered what good deed he did in his past life to deserve having you, and his passion and persistence to make sure you were protected sometimes became anger at the world, knowing there were people out there who could hurt you, and he was determined to make sure they couldn’t, or die trying.

“You know, you really didn’t have to do all of that.” You said lowly, meeting Mingi’s eyes.

“And you didn’t have to entertain him as long as you did, but here we are, hm?” Mingi countered, his eyebrow raised.

“Don’t do that.” Your jaw dropped, feigning disbelief. “There was nothing I could do!”

“You could have came to me, dollface.” Wooyoung looked at you through the rear-view mirror, offering a smirk. You stuck out your tongue. Mingi clicked his tongue, gaining your attention again.

“You do know you’re in trouble now, right?” Mingi says, making quick eye contact with Wooyoung through the mirror. They speak in a silent language you can’t and don’t want to understand, eyebrows raising. Wooyoung’s lips tug up into a smile and your stomach drops in excitement and anticipation. You feel like teasing tonight.

“Why? I didn’t do anything.” You coo, poking out your lip at Mingi, tossing your leg over his.

Mingi looks as if he’s going to say something, but turns to Wooyoung instead, leaning forward.

“Woo. Do you think _____ behaved tonight?”

Wooyoung bit his lip, pretending to think. “Well, no. From what I saw, a guy had his hands on her.”

You opened your mouth in shock. “That’s so not fair, you’re both ganging up on me and you know that’s not how it went down!”

Mingi and Wooyoung both looked to you, and Mingi tilted his head. “Oh really? You want to talk back now. Hear that, Woo? She wants to talk back tonight.”

“If I have to pull over, it won’t be good for you, angel.” Wooyoung stared at you, glancing over his shoulder.

You clamp your mouth shut, crossing your arms over your chest and giving the both of them the evilest stares you can muster. Sex with Wooyoung and Mingi was more often times then not, a power struggle, Mingi declaring himself the ultimate power dom, and Wooyoung trying to convince the both of you he wasn’t a switch, only a soft dom. You’d gotten him into subspace more than once, but he begged you not to tell Mingi, saying it would “hurt his rep”. Sex with the both of them proved to last hours, Wooyoung teasing and Mingi’s over stimulation kink driving you insane. They liked to be able to take their time, so you doubted they would do anything in the car, or while Woo was driving, at least.

Mingi would prove you wrong in about 2 minutes. “Safe word, ____?”

You looked up, startled. Asking for the safeword was Mingi’s way of letting the both of you know shit was about to go down.

“Alabama.” You say, quietly. “But, Mingi, we’re in the ca-”

“It doesn’t matter if you cum quick, baby.” Mingi unbuckled himself, leaning into you. “How long ‘till home, Woo?”

“17 minutes.” Wooyoung’s voice was dry already, as it did when he was impatient, and Mingi hadn’t even started yet.

“I’ve seen you cum in 5. So, how much you wanna bet I can make you cum 3 times before we get inside?” Mingi smirked, planting wet kisses along your collarbone, shifting positions so you were trapped between him and the window behind you. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you grip the seat fabric, averting eyes to Wooyoung, as if he could help you. He offers no help, instead trying to focus on the dark roads ahead of him.

“Don’t look at Woo. Look at me.” Mingi commanded, his hand snaking down your dress before hiking it up around your hips, and tugging your panties to the side. “Tsk. Already wet.” He observes. You bring your eyes to the black haired male, biting your lip as you watch him position his lips at your entrance. You inhale as his tongue darts out to lick your slit, his eyes dating to catch your reaction. Your soft gasp makes Wooyoung crane his neck to see your face, the tent in his pants now evident.

“Fuck, how do you taste so good?” Mingi mumbles, using his hands to spread your legs, nipping your clit softly.

“I eat pineapples.” You half joke, half moan. Mingi gives you a look, taking your clit in his mouth in response. You catch your breath as he begins to harshly suck on it, moving his head side to side.

“Gi...” You moan quietly, a hand in his hair as you began grinding against his face, bucking your hips into him. He smirked, hand on your thigh pushing you back down, getting you to stay still. You whimper into your hand as he continues to suck, showing no mercy. Wooyoung tsks.

“Hand.” He says lowly, and Mingi uses his free hand to pull yours away from your mouth.

“Babygirl just isn’t listening well at all tonight, is she, Woo?” He says, shaking his head at you. He uses his middle finger to tease your entrance, before roughly pushing his finger inside you, coating it with your juices. This earns a loud whimper from you, and Wooyoung averts his eyes from the road to watch Mingi’s finger disappearing inside of you. The car swerves abruptly, and you snap your eyes open, looking at a sheepish Wooyoung.

“This is... such a bad idea.” You manage.

“What? You don’t think I’m a good driver, angel?” Wooyoung quirks his head.

“I know you aren’t.” You counter.

“Mingi, please shut her up.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Mingi grins, adding 2 more fingers and beginning to pump them into you at an insane rate. You immediately close your eyes, feeling tension build up in your stomach as you fight back moans.

“What’s wrong? Daddy got your tongue?” Mingi smirked, fake pouting. “I know for a fact that you can be a lot louder than that.“

You inwardly cursed him out, whimpers coming from your throat as he relentlessly fingered you. The tension started to become too much to handle and you managed to mewl out, “I think I... I’m gonna-”

“Do it.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice, a string of curses and both of their names spilling out of your mouth as he rode you through your orgasm. By now, one of Wooyoung’s hands was definitely in his pants, and his breathing began slowing.

“Time, Woo?”

“13 minutes left.”

Mingi grins, never delaying in his fingering. “One down, two to go.”

“Ming...Mingi!” You cry at the over-stimulation. “Gimme a minute! Fuck!”

“Last time I checked, you don’t tell me what to fucking do.” Mingi didn’t relent, instead adding a fourth finger and flattening his tongue against your clit. It didn’t take long for the second orgasm to hit, your nerves already stimulated, and you were screaming by the third.

By the time the three of you made it to your apartment, your legs were jelly and Wooyoung was on the verge of cumming in his pants.

“My turn.” Wooyoung smirked, dropping his pants and sitting on the couch. “Saddle up, angel.”

You moan at the site of one of your boyfriends so ready for you, and oblige, straddling his hips, one hand on his shoulder for balance, the other on the base of his dick, lining him up with your entrance. Lubrication isnt even a problem, your own wetness and Woo’s precum proving to be more than enough as you slide his dick inbetween your folds. You slowly slide down his length until you get to the base, and immediately begin riding his dick. Wooyoung gasps, grabbing your hips to still you.

“Wait, angel. Adjust first.” He pulls you closer, his head in the curve of your neck. He waits a moment before snapping his hips up, sending waves of pleasure throughout your entire body.

“Wooyoung.” You sigh. “Can you just fuck me? Please?”

“Ah, is that what you want?”

Where Mingi was dominant, Wooyoung was a tease. Constantly pushing your buttons, living for your reactions. While Mingi would fuck you senseless, and then fuck you again, and again , Wooyoung found pleasure in the wait, in edging you on, making you beg for it. Foreplay was Woo’s favorite, a part of sex Mingi oftentimes skipped over. That’s one thing having two boyfriends benefits you. Where one lacks, the other picks up the slack. Where one had a weakness, the other one has a strength. The three of you together are absolutely amazing.

Now, Mingi sits in a chair across from the couch, palming himself through his jeans, shirtless. Wooyoung smirked at him from over your shoulder, bouncing you gently in his lap, and his cock scrapped against your walls agonizingly slow. You knew the best way to get Wooyoung to hurry up was to not entertain his teasing. He drew back out of you slowly, and you let out a quiet moan.

“Louder, Daddy can’t hear.” Mingi commanded from his spot. In response, you let out a cry from the cruel, slow pace at which Wooyoung was going. He was perfectly content, you knew. He could tease your walls for hours without releasing, you knew from a monumental weekend in Tokyo.

“Ride me.” Wooyoung commanded, and you didn’t hesitate to oblige him, thankful for the opportunity to pick up the pace. You rose and fell on his dick.

His hands traveled everywhere on you, from your ass, to choking you slightly, to your breasts, to your thighs, he explored every inch of you. Your hips began bucking more wildly, not following a rhythm, rather chasing your orgasm before he had time to deny you. Mingi noticed, chuckling to himself, hand now in his pants as he dragged his large hands across his length. His moans were low and throaty. You came down on him quicker and quicker, your fourth orgasm approaching, before his hips bucked up to meet yours, stopping you completely.. You opened your eyes as he smirked. You groaned as he began his slow pace from earlier.

“God, Woo.. How hard is it to let me cum?” You whined into his ear, tugging the hair at the nape of his neck.

“It’s no fun that way.” Wooyoung kissed along your neck, his pace way too slow for your liking. You looked over your shoulder, seeing a sweaty Mingi.

“For fucks sakes, Wooyoung. Let the poor girl cum so I can fuck her face.”

Your pussy clenched around Woo at Mingi’s words, and Wooyoung sulked, nodding before wrapping his arms around your waist, trapping you to his body as he pounded into you roughly, your wetness dripping down to his balls, making the sounds loud and wet.

“Tell me what you want.” Wooyoung mumbled against your skin.

“You.” You breathed, feeling pressure in your stomach again.

“Who’s fucking you this good, hm, angel?” He breathed heavily, hips bucking into you and he slowed, only to find your sweet spot. Once he hit it you moaned so loudly, even Mingi’s breath hitched.

“You, Woo.”

“You can cum. Such a good girl for us tonight.” Wooyoung praised, and his words sent you over the edge, pleading and begging for Lord knows what, convulsing and shaking, your eyes rolled back into your head. One thing about Woo, when he did let you cum, he let you cum.

When you’d finally came down from your orgasm, you felt Mingi’s hands pull you from his lap, placing you inbetween his legs as he sat by Woo.

“I know you’re tired, baby.” He started, a hint of sympathy in his tone as he saw how fucked out you looked. “But I need to cum, you’ve got me so worked up. So I’m gonna fuck your face, okay?”

You, frankly, were still seeing stars, but you nodded, taking the base of his cock in your hand.

“No teasing today.” Mingi mumbles a warning, hissing at the feeling of your hands. You nod, smiling.

“When have I ever?” Your finger brushed his slit.

“Baby...” Mingi started, warning in his tone. You obediently opened your mouth, taking his head in. He immediately took over, pushing his dick all the way in, until your nose was pressed against his navel. You fought your gag reflex, swallowing around him.

“Fuck.” Mingi cursed under his breath, pushing in and out of your mouth until he’s hitting the back of your throat and then pulling off again. Wooyoung watched this, tugging his own dick, his light, airy moans contrasting Min’s heavy ones.

You swallowed again, and Mingi bucked his hips up roughly. “Look at Wooyoung, baby. Look at how subby he looks.” He teased. Wooyoung rolled his eyes, but with his lavender hair stuck to his skin and his pink lips parted like that, he did look subby. You smiled with your eyes, your hand pushing Woo’s off of his cock, replacing it with your own. You jerked Wooyoung off while you Mingi fucked your throat, and you held back tears at his unnecessary pace.

“I’m close.” Wooyoung sighed.

“Me too,” Mingi breathed, throaing his head back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Mingi chanted, and you swallowed. “Fuck, do that again and I’ll cum.”

You did it again, and you soon felt his hot liquid running down your throat. You swallowed it as he pulled out, his breath heavy and labored. He continued to curse. You focused on Wooyoung, roughly jerking at his shaft and teasing his slit, and he whimpered. You and Mingi exchanged glances, Mingi mouthing, “sub.”. You chuckled, and soon Woo was bucking into your hand, his cum painting your hand and arm, You quickly licked it off, maintaining eye contact as he rode his orgasm out. Once he came down, you smiled. He turned to Min, eyes glazed.

“Mingi.”

“Yes, Wooyoung?”

“You still got blood on your neck. It does bring out your eyes though.”

Mingi rolled his eyes, turning to you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?“

#ateez #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez smut #mingi smut #wooyoung smut #ateez oneshot

2K notes · View notes

hanscom · 5 years ago

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meet me at the moon [rated: T]

Summary: The Losers get married, to the best of their ability.

Written for the @poly-losers-club Fic Exchange, but mostly for @poetromantics.

Beverly was admitted to the hospital on a Monday.

It was nothing serious. No, really. Three stitches, max. But Eddie got freaked out by all the blood gushing from the gash on her forehead and insisted on driving her to the ER, full-speed. The others followed at a more reasonable pace, but eventually the calm afternoon waiting room was full of life: six grown men hovering around her, visibly stressed in a variety of ways, from Eddie pacing the room in fast, flurried strides to Richie sprawling across a whole row of seats and complaining loudly about whoever it was that banned smoking indoors. It was enough to give Beverly a headache. But that also might have been the head wound.

It took half an hour for her to be called back. The bleeding had stopped by then, but it had crusted around her shirt collar and itched like crazy. She just wanted to go home and change, but Stan was already guiding her out of her seat and towards the waiting nurse. The nurse didn’t comment on Stan’s presence — probably because Stan just looked so no-nonsense, all intense eyes and heavy frown — but she paused when the others rushed to join them.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding uncertain. “Only family is allowed in the room.”

“I’m her brother,” Richie announced instantly.

“Yeah,” Bill chimed in without hesitation. “Me, too.”

“So am I,” Eddie said, but he didn’t sound too sure about it. He’d never been a great liar.

Mike elbowed him and said, “I am, too.”

“He’s adopted,” Richie was quick to add.

“We all are,” Bill agreed.

“Except Ben,” said Mike.

Ben looked startled by the sound of his own name, but he recovered fast. He’d gotten good at playing along with Richie’s schemes over the years. “I’m her husband,” he said. As if to prove it, he moved to Beverly’s free side and looped an arm around her. The way she leaned into him was not entirely for show.

“We’re family,” Stan told the nurse. His strong voice left no room for argument.

The nurse wavered.

Richie pulled himself up to his full height and looked down at her. He didn’t look nearly as intimidating as he probably thought he did. “Listen, lady. You can either let me into that room, or you can leave me here to make a scene. Your call.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. He put a hand on Richie’s arm as if to settle him. “Please don’t get him started,” he whispered urgently to the nurse.

The nurse looked across the room and made eye contact with the receptionist, who had been watching the entire scene with interest. She shrugged and popped her gum. The nurse seemed to take this as permission. She sighed, straighten her clipboard, and led their entourage through the heavy doors and down a blindingly white hallway. She settled Beverly into a hospital bed, took her vitals, and assured them the doctor would see them soon. She didn’t seem happy about it, exactly, but she did smile when Ben thanked her, so Beverly didn’t work up the energy to feel bad.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Riche threw himself onto the doctor’s stool with a groan. “I hate hospitals,” he announced.

“You didn’t have to come,” Bev pointed out. “I’m fine.”

Richie glared at her. “You have a gaping head wound,” he said. “I can practically see your brain matter.” Eddie gagged, then punched Richie’s arm in retaliation. Richie, unrepentant, went on. “Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I stayed home watching Netflix while you withered away in a hospital bed?”

Stan shushed him sharply and looked around, as if they might have missed some stranger cramming into the room with them. “Don’t say boyfriend right now,” he admonished. “We’re her brothers, remember?”

Richie made a face. “It was the best I could do on the spot. Figured it was easier than trying to explain the concept of polyamory to some poor ER nurse.”

“It was a good call,” Bill assured him.

“Bill, please stop encouraging Richie’s stupid ideas,” Stan sighed, his voice taking on the cadence of someone reciting a line they’ve rehearsed a thousand times. Bill’s endless support of Richie’s constant chaos was a well-worn argument in the Loser household.

“Yes, dear,” Bill said dutifully, but when Stan turned away to fuss with Bev’s bedsheets, he winked in Richie’s direction. Richie blew him a kiss in return.

Mike shook his head. “Can’t you guys act like normal people for twenty minutes?” he asked, but he was grinning about it.

“Normal?” Richie repeated, incredulous. “You expect me to act normally while our poor, sweet girlfriend is confined to a sick bed?”

“Poor, sweet sister,” Stan corrected him, as if he didn’t know it was a lost cause.

Richie threw his hands up. “This is stupid,” he said. “No one’s listening. And besides, it’s not my fault Ben always gets to play husband.”

“You’re the one who said you were her brother first,” Eddie pointed out.

“Yeah, but only because Ben would have blown our cover immediately,” Richie retorted. “He can’t keep his hands to himself for more than twenty seconds.”

Richie, admittedly, had a point. Ben was tactile. He liked to hug, to hold hands, to feel the heat of another person’s skin against his own. Even then, he was standing at Bev’s side, their fingers loosely laced. He smiled self-consciously, but didn’t pull away. “Sorry.”

Bev squeezed his hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she said firmly. It wasn’t that Bev preferred his presence. She would have been just as content with Mike at her side, or Stan, or one of the others. But Ben took comfort from standing so close to her, and she would never deny him that.

If it were anyone else, Richie would push the issue. Would dig into the soft spot, would wheedle and whine until he got his way. But it was Ben. They were all a little bit soft for Ben. So Richie just smiled and said, “It’s cool, man. You make a good husband.”

“I’d marry you,” Eddie agreed. The only thing he and Richie never fought about was their mutual affection for Ben Hanscom.

“Me, too,” Mike chimed in. Stan and Bill nodded along.

Bev squeezed his hand again. “I would marry the hell out of you,” she told him softly.

And maybe it was the head injury, but it actually didn’t sound like such a bad idea. They could do it in the backyard. She could make her own dress. They wouldn’t even have to invite anyone. It could be just the seven of them, the way it had always been.

“We should do it,” she said.

Ben looked down at her. He was leaning over the bed, his broad body blocking most of the blaring overhead light. He looked like something straight out of a fantasy. She could so easily picture him at the end of an aisle, dressed to the nines in a fitted suit, eyes brimming with happy tears.

“We should get married,” she said, more sure this time.

There was a pause. Slowly, Richie uncurled from his sprawl and sat up straight. His eyes were suddenly very big behind his glasses. “Someone get the doctor,” he gasped. “I think she might have brain damage.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Eddie chastised, but he glanced uncertainly at Bev like he wasn’t entirely convinced it was a joke at all.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Bev?” Bill asked. He raised his hand and made a peace sign. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Beverly rolled her eyes and started to tell them all that she was just fine, thanks very much, but she was interrupted by a quick knock on the door. It opened, and a middle-aged man in a white coat swept in. If he was surprised to find seven people crammed into one examination room, he didn’t show it. He smiled and introduced himself as Dr. Williams, and then he set to work poking and prodding Beverly’s forehead. The gash there wasn’t very long, but it was deep enough to warrant a few stitches. Beverly had expected that, so she allowed him to clean the wound, numb it, and sew it back together. The entire process took less than ten minutes — just long enough that, by the time the nurse returned to handle her discharge paperwork, the marriage conversation seemed to have been forgotten. Eddie was much calmer now that the wound was bandaged, and Richie had slipped out of the room with Bill to share a cigarette. Stan and Mike were both listening patiently to the nurse’s explanation of how to clean around the stitches without damaging them. Ben was still holding her hand. She wanted to get his attention, to insist that she really had meant it, but it didn’t feel like the right time anymore.

—

Time went on. The stitches dissolved. There was barely even a scar left. Her forehead was still a little tender if she put pressure on it, but otherwise, it was like it never happened.

Beverly still thought about it sometimes, though: the whole marriage thing.

Did she want to be married? She’d never considered it before. It had never felt like a possibility. She’d never really been the kind of kid who dreamed about a big, white wedding. The closest she had ever come was the time they’d put on a pretend ceremony in the underground safety of the clubhouse. She’d been ‘marrying’ Bill back then, which had been nice. She’d worn a crown of flowers that Eddie had picked for her. Stan officiated because he was the only one of them who knew anything about religious ceremonies. Richie walked her down the aisle. Ben cried. Mike snapped a few pictures. They had all pooled their money to get the film developed. One of the better shots was still floating around in a photo album somewhere.

They had probably been too old to play pretend, but maybe that was the thing. Maybe they had all known, deep down, that it hadn’t really been pretend at all.

—

Beverly forgot, on occasion, that her boys knew her as well as she knew them. Even better, sometimes.

She had fully decided to forget about the whole thing. It was a ridiculous idea. She couldn’t marry all of them, after all, not officially. And maybe it made her selfish, but she refused to choose. She wanted them all, equally, forever. A wedding probably wouldn’t change things, but she wasn’t willing to risk it.

And then Ben proposed.

Looking back, she really should have expected it. He had been antsy for days, more so than usual. She had walked into a room more than once to find him huddled up with Stan or Mike or Bill, talking in quiet tones that fell silent the second they noticed her. It was suspicious, sure, but her birthday was coming up. All of the guys got a little weird around her birthday — except Richie, who was always weird and couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

Except this one, apparently. Richie woke her up one morning by crash-landing in her bed, covering her face with wet, sloppy kisses. Bill stood off to the side, laughing at her misery. She accepted the attack by going completely limp. Richie was as eager and excitable as a puppy, and sometimes the only defense against him was to ignore him until he got bored and moved on.

But he was particularly persistent that morning. And then, eventually, Bill joined them in the bed, tugging her free from the covers and coaxing her into consciousness with promises of breakfast. “Mike’s cooking,” he said. “He made your favorite.”

It was sort of weird, because her favorite was usually reserved for post-fight apologies. She tried to remember if she’d argued with any of them recently, but she couldn’t remember. Richie was still kissing her face in quick bursts, and it was hard to think when she felt surrounded by both of them, warm and comfortable and sleep-slow.

They eventually maneuvered her out of the bed and into the bathroom. There was a pile of clothes waiting for her. Stan must have picked them out, because everything coordinated perfectly, down to the socks. That was another weird thing. Stan didn’t take over her wardrobe unless she seemed particularly tired or stressed, which she didn’t think she had. But it was still a nice gesture, so she got dressed, brushed her teeth and her hair, and then wandered down the hall and into the kitchen.

The whole house smelled like bacon and vanilla, but the scent was so strong there that her mouth started to water reflexively. Mike was standing at the stove, an apron draped from his neck. He was shirtless underneath it. She crossed the room and stood behind him, arms around his waist, cheek against his back. She could hear his strong heartbeat and the steady rhythm of his breathing. When he said, “Good morning, beautiful,” she felt the deep rumble of his voice.

“Morning.” She kissed his bare back, between his shoulder blades, and then released him. Eddie was sitting on the counter, his feet dangling. She patted his knee and they shared a smile. And then Stan was guiding her to the table, where a fresh cup of coffee was waiting for her. It was already doctored to perfection, perfectly sweet. She took a long, grateful sip. Richie and Bill and Ben were gathered around the table in their usual places, watching her. She wasn’t used to so much attention. Sharing a life with six other people meant there were at least six other topics of conversation at any given time. Now, though, they were all looking at her like she was the only person in the room. She slowly lowered her coffee mug. “Guys,” she said warily. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Bill said, too quickly.

Richie feigned hurt, but he wasn’t very convincing about it. “Can’t we do something nice for you without having an ulterior motive?”

Bev considered the question. It was technically possible, but they were all staring at her as if waiting for something, and there was absolutely something ulterior about that. “You guys are being weird,” she accused.

“Richie’s always weird,” Eddie offered.

“It’s not just Richie,” she countered, casting an accusatory glance around the kitchen. None of them met her gaze for more than a few seconds except for Stan, who was cool as a cucumber, like always.

“We do have something to discuss,” he said, as if that wasn’t perfectly clear, but he raised his hand to cut her off when she opened her mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about. “Breakfast first, okay? Then we’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Beverly hated being left out of the loop, but at the very least none of them seemed angry or upset. Anxious, maybe, but mostly they all looked excited. Richie was practically vibrating in his seat. Bill’s grin was huge. She caught Eddie and Mike sharing a glance, both of them seeming pleased as punch. Ben hadn’t said a word all morning, but when they made eye contact, he winked at her. The kitchen felt warm and welcome. Stan was waiting patiently for an answer, but there was a smile playing around the corner of his mouth, like even he couldn’t fight off his good mood. She sighed, but offered a nod. She could be patient. Probably.

Breakfast dragged on. The boys were usually useless at hiding things from her, but that morning they were all equally tight-lipped, refusing to steer the conversation away from mindless morning chatter. Beverly tried to listen, but she found herself zoning out more than once. Maybe it made her a bad partner, but she didn’t care about the weather or Bruce Willis’ new action movie. She would never say that out loud, of course, but they probably knew anyway. She wasn’t participating much in the banter. She was mostly staring at her plate full of french toast, wondering what the hell might be coming.

Nothing could have prepared her for the ring.

It was like a magic trick. One minute, the boys were all gathered around the table, chattering amongst themselves. And then she blinked, and there was Ben, kneeling beside her chair. No one was speaking. She couldn’t even hear their breathing over the blood rushing suddenly through her ears. Ben was saying something, but she couldn’t hear that, either. All she could do was look back and forth between his moving mouth and his outstretched hand, where the delicate silver band was pinched between his thumb and forefinger. It was inset with a single large diamond, and surrounded on either side by three smaller gems, all different colors. There were seven stones total. Her heart was pounding.

Ben’s lips stopped moving. He was staring at her, looking more and more uncertain by the second. Had he already asked? God, she’d totally missed it.

“Say it again,” she croaked. She needed to hear it.

Ben smiled, somewhere between self-conscious and unbearably fond. “Beverly Marsh,” he said, his sweet voice trembling. “Will you marry us?”

Beverly launched herself at him. He was already unbalanced on one knee, and the force of the impact brought him to the ground. He shouted, and there was a flurry of amused noise from the others, but Beverly held firm and pressed her mouth to every bare inch of his face she could reach. “Yes,” she gasped. She didn’t have to think about it. She’d done nothing but think about it. For months. “Yes, yes, oh my God, yes.”

Richie’s face appear in the periphery. He had knelt down beside them. “I think that’s a yes, bro,” he said, his big mouth beaming. Bev released Ben only to turn onto him, grabbing him by the shoulders and yanking him in for another fast series of kisses. Bill was next, and then Mike. Stan helped her to her feet and then drew her into his arms, slowing her frenzied attack into something softer. By the time she was passed on to Eddie, she had settled. They didn’t kiss but she held him for a long time, cheek to cheek. It felt wet. She realized they were both crying.

And then there was Ben again, back on his feet. He looped his arms around her and drew her against his broad body. “You mean it?” he asked softly.

“Of course I do.” Beverly didn’t think she had ever meant anything more. “I love you.” Except maybe that.

Ben picked up her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit. The gems glittered and gleamed under the light. She turned her hand this way and that, throwing the light, unable to tear her eyes away.

She was getting married. Holy shit, she was getting married.

—

As it turned out, planning a wedding was fun when seven people and no paperwork were involved. Everyone had a job. Mike would take the pictures. Stan was going to officiate. Bill and Ben spent long hours in the backyard, draping fairy lights around trees and along the gutters. Eddie made a thousand trips across the city, taking on every last errand in earnest. Richie mostly just stayed out of the way. It worked.

Bev set immediately to work designing her own wedding dress, but she drew the line at making six suits. Most of the boys already had something to wear, but Eddie’s suit jacket was too small and Richie had never worn formalwear in his life, so a month before the big day, Bev kicked them out of the house and refused to let them return in anything less than a tuxedo. They were gone for a couple hours, and then Richie had swanned through the house in an admittedly well-tailored suit, looking proud and pleased. He claimed the whole experience hadn’t even been that bad, especially when he had convinced Eddie to join him in the fitting room — said, of course, with an emphatic wriggle of his eyebrows. Eddie squawked a few token protests, insisting that was not what happened, but the blush that flared across his face really said it all.

The days ticked down. Some felt like a dream, and some felt like stark, terrifying reality. Beverly asked herself every day if she was ready. Every day, she knew she was.

And then, suddenly, inexplicably, it was time.

Beverly woke up alone in her own bedroom. She dressed herself, dotted on some makeup, and pinned up her hair. Somewhere in the rest of the house, the boys were dragging on their suits. She wished she could be with them, could fix their lapels and straighten their ties, but Stan was a stickler for tradition. Apparently it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, even if it was a fake wedding. Beverly personally thought a wedding with six grooms could stand to break a few traditions, but Stan insisted.

There was no music to guide her down the aisle. Richie had busted the speakers out of his boombox, and the dog that lived next door barked relentlessly when there was too much noise. So, instead, when Beverly finally opened the back door that morning, she descended the stairs into the yard in silence. Her bare feet made quiet shifting noises against the carpet of grass. Her dress dragged the ground with a soft whisper. The boys were standing in a line, wearing black suits and ties of varying color. It reminded her of her ring, of all the different gems there. She stared at the six of them, all so different from one another. They were beautiful on their own, but all of them together was enough to stop her heart.

Richie started crying almost immediately. That set off Mike, who clung to Bill as if he couldn’t bear to hold himself up under the weight of all the emotion. Bill’s eyes were shiny when he looked at her. Eddie wasn’t looking at her at all, his head ducked down, his shoulders trembling. Even Stan made a noise suspiciously like a sniffle. The only one of them who kept it together was Ben, and that was only because he was staring at her, wide-eyed, as if everything was finally starting to sink in.

“Getting cold feet?” she asked softly, approaching him.

He reached out with surprising speed, gathering her into his arms. “Never,” he said, and then kissed her with so much passion she sagged against him, knees weak.

Beside them, Stan cleared his throat.

“Ah, leave ‘em alone, Staniel,” Richie goaded. “We’re newlyweds.”

“Not yet, we’re not,” Stan said primly. He gently pried Beverly away from Ben and gave them each a stern look that quickly melted into fondness. “Dearly beloved,” he began when he was satisfied they would keep their hands off one another. “We are gathered here today—”

Beverly couldn’t help her giggle. There was something funny about Stan giving the whole speech in front of their empty backyard. He paused to peer at her, fighting a smile. “Something to add, Miss Marsh?”

“Are we all supposed to say vows?” Bill interrupted. He actually looked nervous.

“What’s the matter, Bill?” Richie slung an arm around Bill’s shoulders, leering down at him. “Don’t tell me you have writer’s block.”

“I’ll show you writer’s block,” Bill muttered, shoving his elbow into Richie’s ribs. Richie yowled, jolting away from him. He accidentally treaded on Eddie’s foot, who shouted and swore a blue streak, which set off the neighbor’s dog. Stan tried to get things back on track to continue his speech, but the dog was howling too long and loud for him to be heard.

There was nothing else to do but for the seven of them to spill back into the house, laughing and jostling against one another, drawn together as if magnetized. Beverly couldn’t keep her hands to herself. She had to touch Stan’s perfect hair, Mike’s brilliant smile. She ran her fingers along Ben’s jaw, and across Bill’s chest. She sat in Richie’s lap on their oversized couch and let Eddie pull her feet across his legs. He didn’t even complain that she was getting dirt all over his new pants.

Silence fell after awhile. Even the dog outside calmed. They could have gone back out, tried again, but none of them made a move. All of a sudden, despite the weeks of effort, it didn’t feel important. That was the thing, wasn’t it? A wedding was nice, but it would never feel as good as quiet moments like those, all of them draped together in small ways, a closed circuit of endless affection. What did it matter if they were married? The ring was nice, but it didn’t change the sweet curve of Bill’s smile, the beautiful drag of Stan’s fingers through her hair, the gentle rhythm of Richie’s breathing, the sharp familiarity of Mike’s cologne, the easy weight of Eddie’s hand on her ankle, the gorgeous taste of Ben’s mouth.

Beverly had been theirs in every possible way since she was a kid. She didn’t know how to belong anywhere else. She didn’t want to figure it out.

And the best part was that she didn’t have to. They had offered her forever, after all.

She fully intended to take them up on it.

#ot7 #sometimes i write things #plc fic exchange

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shreddedparchment · 5 years ago

Text

The Brightest Star Pt.04

Enkindled Starfire

05/27/2019

Pairing: Thor x Reader Word Count: 11,697

Masterpost Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, language, angst, fluff, polyamory

A/N: I don’t know what it is about this fic that has me struggling so hard to get it just right. I love it but I’m rewriting a lot more for this than I ever have for other stories. Anywho, I hope you like this chapter. More smut for y’all. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

“What's this? No. Jeremy, you are not making me go to another stupid gala.” You shove the dark gray envelope back towards him, heavy paper hissing against the table.

“You have to go. You skipped the last one, besides this one is going to benefit the places in need of clean drinking water.” Jeremy isn’t even looking at you.

You watch him flip through another page of the thick binder on his lap. He's focused. Aware of you but not watching you. He looks relaxed, wide shoulders slouched as he leans back in the chair across from you at your desk.

He's not phased by your resistance anymore and that annoys you. You wanna throw a tantrum. You wanna literally scream and shout, despite knowing that you'd send your desk through the wall.

You slide down your chair, letting the only person you’re comfortable around have front seat to your pouting.

He smiles, his full lips slowly stretching upwards. A grin. A smirk. Smug bastard!

“You’re going, Y/N.” He says sternly and finally swings his feet towards you. The chair turns, and he peeks at you over the rims of his glasses. “I’ll go with you.”

You spring back up into your seat, elation shooting out of every pore.

“Really?” You gasp, stunned by the offer. Slightly touched by it too. He knows how much you hate to be the center of attention and because you rarely go to these benefits and banquets, people flock to speak with you.

They're so damn curious about Henry’s little girl. What is the Surestar Energy heiress up to?

Then of course there’s all those eligible bachelors looking to pad their bottom lines.

You’re pretty sure that's why Seth had befriended you. Then he got distracted by Nan, who is much more appealing. She models in her spare time and has an extensive following on social media.

His parents were not happy. Your wealth is no joke.

Jeremy lays his binder aside, a ton of numbers written and highlighted across the paper. He scoots closer to your desk, sitting up straight.

“Yeah. I gotta make sure you walk through the door this time.” He watches you with a gentle smile, pleased by your happiness.

And you are…happy. Happy that you won't have to be alone at the benefit among those people who only care about your net worth. But if you could have gone to this gala with anyone…

Jeremy's hand slides over onto yours. He grabs it, wrapping his fingers around your own, cooling your heat with his normal human temperature.

“It's been a week, Y/N.” His voice is smooth, consoling.

“He never called.” You smile at him through the sadness that's overwhelmed you constantly over the past week. A break down here. A few tears there. No eating one day—Jeremy had been so angry at you he forced you out to dinner and wouldn’t let you leave until you’d consumed something. Anything.

He doesn't understand. He tries, but he can never get it.

For a few blissful hours, you had felt whole. There's no other way to explain the way finally talking to Thor had made you feel.

You’ve been alone for so long.

Yes, you have Jeremy. However, he's not like you. He knows how you tick but he doesn't get it completely. He can't.

Even though Thor didn’t know that you were closer to being like him than any of your fellow humans, the possibility that he'd someday know what you’re capable of and understand the power within you had been an unprecedented comfort. Something to look forward to. A blessing bestowed upon you by the Universe.

Thor, for some odd reason, had asked you for a coffee suggestion and then sat next to you, and asked for your number and…what happened? What went wrong?

“I…I just don’t know what I did, Jer. What did I do?” Your voice cracks as tears sting your eyes. It burns, like acid but you know that's not a power of yours.

It's just the heartache making them burn because Jeremy pulls your hand up to guide you onto your feet. You do what he wants because you’re broken a bit more by this small and short exchange with Thor.

His warmth had been so intoxicating. That Godly aura, the essence of who he is. You'd bathed in it for months and now to have it gone…you feel empty. Like your soul is missing.

“I’m so stupid.” You blubber, angrily. You hate feeling like this. It's more than a crush but why?!

Jeremy makes to pull you down onto his lap but you freeze and yank back away from him. Your eyes roam over the glass wall behind him and the door.

Jeremy releases your hand and hurries to lock it then press his fingers against a small illuminated square of purple light where several arrows and words shine.

The glass wall suddenly darkens, shutting out the eyes that might be watching. Your close relationship with Jeremy isn’t really a secret but you’re at work.

The complicated nature of just how he takes care of you, emotionally, physically, professionally…you'd rather keep it quiet even if some people already guess.

You and Jeremy aren’t in love.

He moves back towards you and turns to lean against the edge of your desk. He pulls you towards him, his hands moving up to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

See, his fingers aren’t burning. You don’t have acid tears.

“I don’t know what you did, chipmunk. But you should have stopped texting him when he didn’t reply.” He's not chastising you but you know he's right.

You fall forward, resting your forehead against his chest as his hands stroke the sides and back of your head, caressing you. Comforting you. Giving you what he knows you’re second most starved for. Physical touch.

“I am stupid.” You whine.

Jeremy chuckles. “No, Y/N. You’re just eager. Is it because he's hot?”

You lean back to look up at Jeremy with his eyebrow quirked as he watches for your reaction.

You shake your head because sure, as good looking as Thor is, it’s not his body that pulled you to him—but come on, you know you’re dying to have those massive arms wrapped around you, those slightly pouty pink lips pressed against your own, those massive thighs shoved against yours.

Yes, you wanna fuck Thor! He's beautiful, but what you remember…you shut your eyes, remembering the first moment that golden aura washed over you.

The smell of spring rain, soil, and then the slight bite of ozone followed his heavenly essence after him. Then you looked for the source because that warmth was everything. Hotter than you. Hotter than the sun.

Like clashing lightning, charged and scorching.

That’s what you want. All the time. Every minute of every day. It fills you up. The fact that it came from Thor had deterred you. He didn’t see you that one time. He'd bumped into you and he'd stared right at you and didn’t see you.

He was out of your league. So his rejection makes more sense than you'd like to admit.

“He's different, Jer.” You explain. “Like…he's like a magnet but it's him. His soul. The very core of what makes him, him. He's good and strong and right and just…”

You sigh, Jeremy strokes the sides of your head, his fingers reaching down to tilt your head back so that he can look into your eyes. Your lip trembles when you find him searching for answers in your own gaze.

“I wanted him, so much. More than I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone.” You sigh, shakily breathing in and out.

“I’m sorry, chipmunk. I know you don’t get this attached often.” He pulls you close, wrapping one arm around your waist while he cups the back of your head with the other and tucks your face in against the side of his neck.

“Or ever.” You correct. “Just you and Papa Roman.”

Jeremy gives you a squeeze.

“What would he have done?” He's wondering genuinely as he asks you.

You chuckle unexpectedly because picturing what your Papa Roman would have done and what Jeremy did…well, “Definitely not what you did.”

Jeremy smiles. “But I did help you feel better for a little bit, right?”

You nod. A whole day and a half. Jeremy had distracted you from your heartache by making you feel like you were desirable when Thor had made you feel utterly forgettable.

“You want more?” He asks, and your core shifts but your heart sinks.

“Maybe later. I’m not really…I don’t wanna go to this stupid benefit, Jer.”

Jeremy smiles, running his hands from your shoulders down to your waist.

He pulls you against his body roughly. You gasp, not expecting it.

“You’re going, chipmunk. If only so that the board members stop wanting to fire me for not doing my job.” He leans down to press his lips to the side of your chin.

You shut your eyes, tempted to accept his offer to distract you. But Thor's smiling eyes manifest in the darkness behind your lids to send another painful lurch through your chest.

You fist Jeremy's sleeves, fingers aching with the tightness.

Jeremy pulls back, looking for something in your eyes, a look. A tell. He knows you too well.

“You sure?” You love him, not like you might have loved Thor, but he's good to you. Good at what he does. He sees that you need it, to feel wanted and desired so he offers and it's always up to you.

“No.” You relent, loosening your fists to stroke the hard bulge of his arms. “I'm not."

“Tell me, chipmunk.” Always ready and willing, he waits for instruction. You feel bolder suddenly.

“Touch me, Jer. Make me feel like I-like I’m important.” You beg.

Jeremy frowns, his brow creasing with disapproval. He caresses the sides of your head and gives it a teeny shake.

“You are important, Y/N. That guy doesn’t know what he's missing. I swear, chipmunk. Someone someday will see you for the amazing and strong woman you are.” He seems so sure.

“But when?” You whimper.

He trails his hand down along your sides, running his hands over the curves of your back, hips, and finally butt. He turns you slowly then pulls you up, sitting you on the edge of the desk before slipping his right hand down along the long open slit at the front of your fancy yellow office dress.

He unhooks the little latch that holds the dress closed and pushes it open to expose your left breast. He pulls the fabric of your bra down and latches onto your nipple, suckling gently as you sigh a moan and slip your hand into the back of his hair.

He moans too and that’s so rare that it catches you by surprise.

You pull his head back to look at his face to see what might be his expression but he doesn't give you a chance. He rushes up to meet your lips in a languid, sloppy, wet kiss.

His lips move along yours lazily, his tongue taking long strokes of your flavor to taste. He groans again into your mouth. You pull back again.

“Jeremy?”

His eyes are dazed as he meets yours and you feel a rush of fear. What is he feeling?

“What? What's the matter?” He asks, slowly regaining the sharp look of his dark eyes.

“You're…you’re not…” You don’t even want to finish the sentence. Catching feelings here would spell ruin for the two of you. “Maybe we should stop?”

Jeremy laughs, breathless but his hands are sliding up along your shoulders, pushing the dress down and away.

“No. I’m not…I’m sorry. I’m just-this dress is really doing things for me, today.” He shrugs. “That's all.”

“You and Lily?”

“We’re still together.” He assures you.

He dives back down to trail kisses along the side of your neck.

When you’d first learned that he had a girlfriend, it had been just after he'd made you “feel better" a few times. You'd panicked but Jeremy had assured you that he and Liliana had an open relationship and though they both loved each other very much, they were both unwilling to commit monogamously just yet.

You even met her once, at the office Christmas party. She was sweet but very confident. You'd avoided Jeremy for weeks after that, afraid of what sleeping with you after sleeping with someone like Lily must be like.

Jeremy had been quick to show you how amazing he found your body. You never fought him on it again.

Despite his reassurance, your body is still tense.

He pulls back and places his hands on either side of you on your desk, his thumbs caressing the clothed side of your upper thigh.

“Should I stop?” He asks, serious but somehow still soft in his expression to reassure you.

You half shake your head, feeling the need to feel arms around you, hips throbbing against yours.

“Tell me when to stop.” He orders.

He takes his middle finger and slowly slides it down along the outside of your left thigh. As he nears your knee, where the end of your dress sits, he shifts his finger to the top of your leg as they slide along your knee. He stands up straighter, closer, his face is so close to yours his hot breath wafts along your lips.

You’re so distracted by the sudden proximity of his face that you don’t notice how high up his fingers have gotten until he's got his middle finger pressed against the damp center of your core.

You gasp and reach out to take tight hold of his sleeve at his bicep. He smiles. A corner tilt of his full lips as he trails that finger up and down along your wet and clothed slit.

You feel all resistance fall away as you shut your eyes and lean your head back, allowing your body to exhale in pleasure.

His lips are back on your breast, suckling gently while his finger hooks your underwear aside to touch your soaking sex.

The noise is dirty, squelching and squishy, not loud but enough for you to hear it.

“You’re so ready, chipmunk.” He teases and you groan, wanting him. Wanting to be wanted.

“You-you want me?” You ask him, uncertain whether it's okay to do so.

He smiles big, pearly whites shining and blinding. His left hand wanders between the two of you and you realize now that he's between your legs. When did that happen?

You hear the clinking of his belt and the loud growl of his zipper.

“Look at me, chipmunk. I’m all swollen for you.” Your eyes flow down between the two of you and your mouth waters at the bulging sight of his rounded head, cock stiff and throbbing.

The darker peach tint of him flows red at the head and you want to taste him though you know he won’t let you.

“It's not about me, Y/N.” He'd argued once. “Lily does that for me. Let me make you feel better.”

You reach down anyway and he lets you. The smooth heat of his cock is nothing compared to the raging temperature your body is flowing with right now.

He grunts as you stroke him, your elevated temperature probably feels good for him.

“That feels good, chipmunk.” He groans.

Reaching up, he slips his hand behind your neck and pulls you down to kiss.

Your hand stutters as his finger pokes at your entrance. He tickles it, teasing you before he slides it in smooth.

“Jer?” You moan, breaking the kiss. “Tell me I-I'm wanted.”

Jeremy frowns again, that impossibly upset crinkle between his eyes. His glasses fog up along the bottom as your breath flows towards him. He's pushing his finger inside of you, quickly, curving it up in search of that special spot.

Your legs are spread wide, slightly lifted. He puts his free hand on your knee and pushes it back, spreading you more.

“I want you, Y/N. I want your body. I wanna be inside you. I want to make you feel better; make you come.” His words make you shiver and he pulls his finger away.

You barely have any time to react because the head of his cock is suddenly in you.

He wraps his arms around your waist and slowly walks closer, plunging deeper into you with each move. You moan. Loudly.

Jeremy shoves his hand over your mouth but doesn't tell you to be quiet. He smiles instead, pleased.

“I’ll make you forget him, chipmunk. I’ll give you what he won't.” Jeremy promises and while he stuffs you, pounding into you hard and passionately, you sadly pull him in for a kiss because you know that despite his promise, in this moment, you wish Thor had called you.

What did I do wrong? You think desperately as Jeremy meets your kiss eagerly.

“Why are there so many reporters?” You gasp, leaning forward in your seat. The limo’s leather squeaks as you pull your dress back down. Skin pulling at the fabric as you try not to completely climb over Jeremy’s lap.

Not that he’d mind, but being so close to prying eyes, best to keep things cool.

Layers of light blue chiffon, beaded and worked through with shining crystals that glitter like stars, fall back down around your waist. Jeremy pulls the pale blue sleeve of his Gucci tux then sighs with disappointment.

His hand had been crawling up your leg, feeling the soft skin of your inner thigh. You’d needed the relaxation but the car ride to the repurposed theater had been short and you’d gotten distracted by the crowd outside of the large art deco building.

“They’re not reporters, Y/N. They’re papz.” He counters but then goes about straightening your dress around you. He’s so careful and he takes care of you well. “And you look amazing. They’re going to go crazy snapping your pic.”

“Great.” You groan. Your picture all over the paper again? What will Thor think when he sees it? Will he even care?

Stop thinking about Thor. You growl at yourself.

Jeremy chuckles. “It’s your own fault for being so reclusive. You’re a hot commodity. Everyone wants to know you.”

The cool firm hand on your back gives you a little bit of comfort. “I’m nothing special. And having them know nothing about me is how I like it. They always bring them up and I-I don’t feel like talking about it…Jer?”

Jeremy’s eyes are soft as you meet them, his expression saddened. “I’ll handle it.”

His promise has weight. He’ll physically remove anyone who tries to talk about them with you. Yet another reason to be glad for his fit physique.

“Thanks.” You smile at him, so grateful he’s here with you because you’d probably have run again if he weren’t here to walk you in. He strokes your back and you lean back into your seat and into his arms, cuddling into his side because you like the way it feels and you know that it means nothing more than just that, it feels good.

This doesn’t happen often. You and Jeremy cuddling and sleeping together as much as you have been the past two weeks. Your relationship is usually pretty professional if not familiar. Like that day of the board meeting. He knows how to steer you and you know how to take his cues—well, the ones you’re going to do anyway.

You’re not a mindless puppet. You have your own opinions even if you don’t speak them aloud with most people. Jeremy knows better. He prefers it when you argue with him. The one person in your life you can be open with completely.

You’d hoped Thor would be too…

Jeremy squeezes you, careful not to crush your dress. He holds it for only a second before he sits you back up. He reaches up and fixes a few of your stray hairs.

“You’ll ruin your look.” He chastises, also recognizing the gesture as what it is besides a need for physical comfort.

You’re stalling.

You chuckle. Amused by his preoccupation with how you look.

He’d spent much more time getting you ready than he should have. He’d chosen your dress, your hair, and then matched himself to you. You’d laughed when he’d told you that he’d got himself a tux to match your dress but that’s only because you’d been picturing the most absurdly blue seventies tuxedo with one of those white ruffled shirts with the black lining. Bright bold colors designed to catch the eye.

When you finally saw Jeremy dressed in head to toe couture, sleek black trousers, shining black shoes, a crisp white shirt—no ruffles—and that stunning pale blue tuxedo jacket you renounced all misgivings about his fashion sense then snapped a shot and sent it to Lily.

She’d thanked you for the instrument of blackmail and told you to have fun.

Lily: As much fun as you need. He enjoys it too, Y/N. Don’t let him make you think he doesn’t.

You feel bad monopolizing Jeremy intimately this way lately but with Lily’s blessing you’d relaxed and let Jeremy treat you like he would a girlfriend. You just try to not think about how he’s your assistant all the time and that he’s only doing this out of a deep sense of duty to you.

“We don’t have to stay long, right?” Your smile wavers and you look out at the throng of photographers yelling obnoxiously at the high-profile guests walking into the gala.

Like you, they’re late and they make no time to stand for photos despite the shouts and pleas of those stationed outside.

“Just an hour and we’re gone. Dinner should be wrapping up about now.” He explains.

“What was the point of me spending so much money on buying a table if I wasn’t going to eat?” You grumble. You can care less about the fancy party but the food?!

“I’ll buy you some pizza afterwards.” He offers.

“You? Why would you buy me a pizza? I can afford my own damn pizza.” You sigh but he laughs once. Then he’s silent. Too silent.

“Why aren’t you like this with your friends?” He suddenly asks you, catching you off guard. You look at him, searching his face for what he might really mean.

“I-I don’t know. They don’t give me a chance to? Nan and Seth have a lot to say. Everyone does. It’s easier if I just let them talk. No one cares about what I have to say, Jer. It’s okay. I’ve come to terms with that.” You smile at him, ignoring the pulsing heartache at having lost someone who had genuinely sat and listened to you talk for hours.

Thor…Why can’t you stop thinking about him? You’d known him for less than two days. Feeling that magical pull he has for months doesn’t translate into time known.

Did it really mean nothing to him that he can ignore you the way he has?

“Well, they’re missing out. You’re really funny, Y/N. And you have quite the dirty mouth.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and your cheeks burn.

“Jeremy.” You chastise, and he chuckles.

“Come on, chipmunk. Let’s get this over with.” He makes to open the door, but you pull back on his hand and he looks at you, concern etched across his handsome face. “What? What’s wrong?”

You shake your head once. “I-I feel so silly in these big ball gowns.”

Jeremy smiles at you fondly, reaching out to straighten your skirt again. He lets his hand flow down beneath the external skirt, to the tighter, sheer fabric of your front. His hands slide along the covered flesh of your thighs where the skirt is so sheer that the lovely color of your skin peeks through. His eyes roam over you, appreciating you the way he knows that you need.

“You’re gorgeous, Y/N. You look like a waterfall, cascading with stars.” He grins at you, appreciating his own word choice. You smile at him, rolling your eyes.

“Stars? Really?”

He chuckles. “Come on, pouty. Let’s get out there.”

He pushes the door open and then helps you out.

He looks you over once you’re on your feet and steps very close as he reaches onto your waist to adjust the gleaming silver and black belt. He gives you another appraisal and when satisfied, he steps back.

“Okay. Ready?” He offers you his hand and you nod and take it.

No talking. You’re in public again. You can already feel yourself withdrawing. With Jeremy here, at least you’ve got an anchor.

You zone out for a minute, startled by the sudden burst of white flashes, allowing Jeremy’s strong arm around your waist lead you forward through the small space provided for party goers to walk through. You can hear people shouting your name. They’re louder than they were with the others and this draws an even larger crowd as pedestrians and passerby stop to gawk at you too.

Terrified by the attention, you focus on the ground and don’t dare look up.

“Look over here, Y/N! Over here. Come on. Just one picture?” Someone shouts but you don’t stop because Jeremy’s speeding forward.

“Steps, chipmunk.” He warns and you lift your foot.

You blink hard, eager to clear the blindness from your eyes. The flashes remind you of lightning which only make you think about Thor again that makes that dark pit in your stomach bigger.

This is stupid. Get over it. Stop thinking about Thor!

Once you’re inside with the cool night air cut off, you feel yourself burning. The stress of those photographers. Your wallowing on Thor. It’s catching up with you quickly and you wish you were back at home in your bedroom where you can be you and you don’t have to pretend to be anyone other than who you truly are.

Hell, you’re even more you in the café.

Jeremy feels your heat and he knows what that means. “Hey, it’s okay. Um…here. Come here.”

He tugs you away from the room that you still haven’t looked up at. It’s only the foyer but you can hear the chatter of people echo around you. There’s a gentle hum of a string and piano ensemble coming from the main ballroom. Your eyes are only for the stunning pale marble floor.

You shift into a stuffier room, which doesn’t help your heat, but you hear a door click and Jeremy’s body is before you. “Hey.”

You shake your head. “I can’t do this Jeremy. I-They’ll ask about them. I don’t want to talk about my parents.”

“Look at me.” You don’t. “Hey, look at me, Y/N. Right now.”

The stern order drives your face up and you meet his dark eyes with layers of fear and trepidation sewn into your very being.

You shut your eyes and in the sudden quiet you feel a familiar warmth. Surprised by it, you look towards the closed door. It’s faint. And then it’s gone. Thor’s influence is so ridiculous. You miss him.

You’re also in a coat check closet. The array of smells and perfumes are giving you a headache.

Jeremy reaches up to grab your chin, leading you to face him again. With your attention reclaimed and your heart resigned to the fact that you’re going crazy if you think you’re feeling Thor even when he’s not around, you focus.

“You can do this. And if someone asks you something you don’t want to talk about, you tell them you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Jer…” You begin to complain.

“You say, ‘I don’t really want to talk about that.’ And if they bring it up again, then just walk away.” He instructs.

You frown at him, knowing you may not be able to do that. You’re such a wimp sometimes, despite the ability you know you have to literally burn the entire room if you wanted to.

“You want a kiss for courage?” He asks, seriously too.

You blink, smiling, taken aback by his question but not offended. “I’m staring to think you just want to kiss me.”

Jeremy shrugs a shoulder. “Well, I don’t not want to kiss you.”

His words are like solace. Someone likes kissing you. Even if it’s not the someone you wanted it to be. You look down, hating yourself for tying Thor to even these moments when Jeremy makes you feel good. Smile gone.

“Can you hang in there for an hour?” He checks, waiting for you to respond and when you don’t look at him, he reaches up again to cup your face to force you to meet his eyes. “Can you do this? Or do you wanna run again? Like you always do? You want to keep running?”

He’s guilting you. You know he is. He’s holding up a mirror to the person you’ve been in the past. The person you are. You’re tired of running. You don’t want to hide anymore but you’re not ready to talk about your parents. So, you’ll try and do what he suggests. You’ll tell them no and leave if they don’t stop.

“No. I don’t wanna run.” You pout and Jeremy smiles, bright and ecstatic.

“Good. You walk out there with your head held high; you hear me? You don’t look down to anyone, Y/N.” He says it so passionately. Like he means it with all of his heart. You believe him. “You’re powerful and unique. And you’re really good in bed.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” You laugh.

“It just…trust me. When someone’s being a jerk to you, tell yourself that and you’ll walk with your head held a little higher. Okay?”

“Okay.” You shake your head, but you resign to his logic.

He leads you back out into the foyer. Now that you’re actually able to look at it, you see that it’s a large room with three large staircases that lead up to a second floor lined with dark gray carpet. The center and largest staircase is lined with purple flowers and this is the staircase that everyone seems to be filing up through.

There are so many people here; women in gorgeous silver, pink, black, gold, and gray gowns. There are a few in darker blues but not one as light as yours. It draws attention and though your instinct is to curl into Jeremy’s side, you wrap your arm around his tighter and fist the sleeve of his jacket and draw yourself up.

He looks down at you and smiles as he leads you up the stairs to a large set of ornate brown doors through which you can see a mass of people sitting at tables and dancing at the center of what looks like hundreds of small tables.

The lighting is dim but white like winter daylight only not so bright. It gives the party the feeling of ice though the room is toasty warm. As you cross into the large room you see that the ceiling is hung with fake white lilies made of porcelain and the cold light streams from within bunches of them casting spots of illumination along the black and white marble floor.

Jeremy runs his hand over the skin of your hand then reaches up to cup the farther side of your neck. He’s checking your temperature and he seems pleased that it’s leveled out. It’s too beautiful in here to focus on your stress and social anxieties. With Jeremy beside you, confidence is easier to fake.

“’Atta girl.” He praises you and it fills your belly with warmth.

You see that as you pass, the small white tables with their white puffed chairs are decorated with stunning silver plates and silverware, crystal glasses, and more of those beautiful purple flowers that fill the room with the fresh scent of spring.

Just as Jeremy said, dinner seems to have come to an end and everyone is up and about, talking and filling the empty spaces with lively conversations about things that you could care less about.

Portfolios and assets and lavish vacations. You spot Nan and Seth about halfway down the large room and point them out to Jeremy. He nods and leads you in their direction.

Your body twists as that familiar warmth washes over you again and you strain to look through the crowd around you. Stopping you pull your arm out of Jeremy’s and grab your dress and follow the warmth. Heaven’s aura.

No. Not heaven.

Asgard’s.

You stop when you’ve reached the center of the dance floor. Several people turn to look at you curiously, admiring your dress and your visage in general.

“Y/N?” Jeremy catches up to you and waits as you look around frantically.

“I-I thought…” You frown, disappointment washing over you as you realize that maybe you’re just imagining things. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“You sure?” Jeremy wonders, reaching out to place his hands on your waist and pull you close. Too close. People will talk. Then again, you don’t care. The disappointment in your heart is too big.

Too consuming.

“Yeah. I’m sure. Let’s go see Nan and Seth. Sorry. I-I won’t do that again.” You’re going to ignore it if it happens again.

He doesn’t want you. You remind yourself.

Jeremy pull you along again and when you reach Nan and Seth you can hear them bragging about their contributions to several charities. They’re not even being humble or discreet about it. They’re just whipping out their dicks to see who has the biggest one. At least that’s the comparison your mind draws to the way they’re talking about their carefully calculated altruism.

“No.” You pull on Jeremy’s arm just before you reach them. He turns to look at you, observing the frown on your face. “I don’t want to go talk to them. I changed my mind.”

Jeremy tilts his head, disappointed but relenting because he can see your distress. “I’m a bad assistant.”

“What?” You ask, surprised by his leap. He moves closer to you, taking your arms in hand as he pulls you close.

“I should have forced you out a long time ago. You’re too shut off from the world, Y/N. You can’t keep pushing people away.” He says it sadly, like he really does consider it his failure. “I know this isn’t your scene but it’s part of your life. I should have prepared you better for it.”

“Jeremy…this isn’t about not being ready to socialize I just…these people…”

“They’re not all bad, Y/N. Some of them are, I admit, a little fake.”

“A little?” You gasp, looking back over at Nan and Seth.

“You have to give someone a chance at some point, chipmunk. I can’t be the only one you count on.” Fear builds in your chest, terrible fear of losing him.

“Are you leaving me?” You breathe, quickly wondering if you’ve been putting too much pressure on him. “I-You don’t have to come with me to these things, Jer. In fact, if you want to go home right now, you can! I know Lily probably had some plans for you two. D-Do you need a vacation? If I’m stressing you out, just tell me and I’ll back off. I’ll try not to do whatever it is that’s bothering you. Just tell me, okay?”

You reach up to grab at his shoulders, too hard you realize as he winces.

“Sorry.” You sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Y/N, that’s not what I…Come on.” He reaches down to take your hand and pulls you off towards the left side of the room instead. “Let’s jus sit for a bit, okay? And I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Your heart relaxes, grateful for the opportunity to catch your breath and the reassurance that you’re not losing Jeremy because of your neediness.

This is all so overwhelming. And this party is not your kind of thing.

He stops at an empty table where all the plates sit unused, your name on a placard at the center. He leads you around to the far side of the table so that when he pulls out your chair and you sit, you’re facing the dance floor. Not many people are dancing. Some.

For a split second, a startling pair of electric blue eyes flash through the crowd, crowned with a golden head of carefully styled hair.

You shoot to your feet, heart aching because this time you know you saw him.

“What?” Jeremy asks, curious but more stunned than anything. “What is it?”

Your eyes roam over the couples gently swaying to the gentle music. You scan for blonde hair. Blue eyes. Wide shoulders. Huge arms. But he’s tall. Surely, he’d tower over everyone else on the dance floor?

“Y/N?” Jeremy reaches out to touch your arm.

You jump, on edge, afraid to see Thor but also eager to get your eyes on him once again.

“What?” Jeremy asks, eyebrows high.

“N-Nothing. I just thought I-Nothing. Never mind.” You settle yourself back down into your seat, careful to spread your dress around you.

“You want something to drink?” Jeremy asks, leaning down over you.

You nod, feeling parched all of a sudden. Maybe a good drink will help you forget Thor. You’ve seen and felt nothing but his ghost since you got here. This is just you letting go of him.

“Okay. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.” He hesitates but then leans down to kiss your cheek. He leaves you, winding his way through the finely dressed crowd as he searches for a waiter or waitress.

You keep your hands on your lap, folded carefully under the table as you stare around at the stunning crowd. It takes a few minutes but you push Thor to the back of your mind.

Now that you’re sitting you can appreciate the splendor of the décor and the beauty of the people. The music is good too. Although it’s a string quartet with piano accompaniment, you can now hear that they’re playing modern music.

Chandelier?

You smile, amused by the song for some reason. The bliss of the moment outweighs your anxiety and you genuinely begin to enjoy yourself. Quietly, like this, you can appreciate being here.

Feeling lighter than you’ve felt all week, with the beautiful music to distract you, you’re not aware that you’re looking right at him until you hear his laugh.

Smile vanishing, you avert your eyes from the man of your dreams.

He’s dressed in a stunning black tuxedo. His tall frame wrapped in the expensive fabric; it fits him like a glove. Why can’t you feel him? You’ve always been able to feel him.

You peek up at him and find him at a table close to the head of the room. There are others at this table. A redhead, the Black Widow, who you know from the papers when S.H.I.E.L.D. first collapsed. She’s sitting next to a man with long brown hair, carefully styled and straightened, tucked behind his ear. A shine on his hand pulls your attention. The Winter Soldier. He’s holding the Black Widow’s hand under the table. They’re a couple?

Beside him is a black man with short cropped hair and a small gap in his two front teeth. It only adds character to his handsome smile. He’s sitting with a young woman with brown hair. You don’t recognize her, and she seems friendly with him, though it doesn’t look strictly romantic.

Beside the girl is a familiar redhead wearing a long form fitting golden dress, sequined with paler gold sequins. The dress falls low along her back but she’s busy chatting with the black man who you suddenly realize is the Falcon. You’ve seen him in the news a few times too. Pepper Potts, Tony Stark’s fiancé, sits next to an Asian woman. Korean? She’s beautiful.

Her own dress is long and flowing, black velvet scattered with rhinestone stars. Her dark hair is draped over her left shoulder as she leans in towards Thor, whispering in his ear about who knows what? He sits with his arm draped across the back of her chair, his left leg, jutting out at the end of the table as it’s too long to keep bent maybe?

He’s so tall.

He’s also smiling. He looks happy. While you’ve been broken and a recluse, he’s happy.

I am so…so stupid.

You tear your eyes away, unable to watch any longer. You’re grateful when a group of women with large dresses plant themselves in your line of sight to that table. At least this way your heart can break completely in semi-private.

“You’re a hard woman to get a hold of.” A teasing sarcastic tenor voice stiffens your back and you turn to your right to look up at Tony Stark himself.

Well, maybe not so private.

Tony looks snazzy, as he always does, his mustache and goatee carefully styled and trimmed like his dark chestnut hair. His bowtie is undone. Like he’s been here for hours. You realize that he must have been. This is his benefit, you realize.

The table of Avengers suddenly makes really stupid sense.

“I thought it was a slim chance that you’d show up, but you showed up. Remind me to thank that assistant of yours. Or…maybe you can thank him for me?” The way he says it, he knows. How does he know? Most people just guess…but Tony Stark knows.

He sips his umber liquid, sloshing around with the ice in his glass. The bite of liquor reaches your nose and you realize he’s probably a little tipsy. He might not have made that comment about Jeremy had he been sober.

“I-I don’t know what you-” You begin, voice quaking with the knowledge that Thor is here with someone else. A date. A woman. A beautiful one. Clearly outgoing. She’s probably nothing like you.

No wonder he dumped you before you even had a chance to start. How can you compete with that?

“I’m not here to judge. Pepper was my assistant. Did you know that?” Tony undoes the front buttons of his chic tuxedo jacket then sits beside you, placing his glass on the table as he snaps his fingers. “Waiter!”

You’re astounded by how quickly one runs up. “Champagne for my friend and bring us a couple grapes?”

He turns to you.

“You like grapes, right?” He turns back to the waiter. “Grapes. And some strawberries if you’ve got them.”

“Right away, Mr. Stark.” The waiter says then scurries off to do as he’s bid.

You admire this about Tony Stark. He’s like you, in some ways. Just like you he’s grown up in this life but he seems so much more at home in it than you do.

“Not gonna say hi?” He asks, smiling as he leans back and lounges on the expensively purchased seat.

“Hello again, Mr. Stark.” You say, giving up because he’s not going anywhere until he’s ready. Maybe he can pull your mind away from the blonde at the head of the room?

“Again?” He smiles, “Oh, you mean that last time we saw each other? What was it? Six years ago? Just before you hired that assistant of yours?”

“Why do you keep bringing up Jeremy?” You ask, self-conscious that maybe you and Jeremy are giving out some sort of vibe. Where is he? If Thor is here with someone else, you want to show off that you’re here with someone too.

Okay, sure, it’s Jeremy and he’s technically getting paid to be here but…fuck my life. You think.

“Isn’t that who you brought as your date? Little weird, isn’t it?” He takes a drink of his bourbon, then he looks up as the young waiter brings a plate split in half with strawberries and grapes. He places it in between you and Tony and then places a glass of champagne in front of you. “Thanks.”

The waiter leaves and you shake your head. “Jeremy knows I hate coming to these things, so he offered to be here with me. It’s not a d-date.”

“But you are sleeping with him, right?” He asks, reaching out to rip a grape from its stem.

“I-I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Mr. Stark.” You stutter, flustered. You grab your champagne and drink about half the flute.

“You’re right. It’s not. But there’s a certain someone I know that has a deep interest in your relationship with that ridiculously good-looking assistant of yours.” Tony’s teasing is unbearable but he’s smiling, chewing on his grape.

Thor? Not possible.

“No one cares about me but Jeremy. Mr. Stark.” You say quickly, resolute. Convinced. And sad.

Tony sits forward, tensing up as he leans his elbows on the table to get a better look at your face because you’re staring at the pretty centerpiece which you can now see are purple orchids. Stunning.

“I know—Look, I know that after what happened with your parents I wasn’t really around much. I had to-”

His tone, the casual way he’s talking to you, familiar. It floods back a flash of blurry memories of a tall handsome teen carrying you in his arms, making you laugh, watching cartoons with you and making silly faces. Telling you stories. Hugging you. Taking you outside to play. A happier life when you hadn’t been stripped of everything you once were. When your innocence had still been intact.

It hurts to remember Tony like that. Present. Close.

“I don’t want to talk about my parents, Tony.” You sigh, frustrated with him for making you remember when you try so hard not to think about the small bit of life you’d had before your mother and Uncle Arnold had turned you into this…thing.

Tony cut himself off from your life for so long and only recently wants to reach out? It’s too late! You don’t need him anymore. You have Jeremy. You have…fuck…you have no one but Jeremy. And what if he leaves you too?

“This isn’t about them.” Tony insists. “I-I should have been around, and I wasn’t. I’m sorry, kid. I messed up.” You don’t want to hear this now, but he sounds so genuine and it hurts.

You meet his eyes and find that he’s staring at you with a pleading to understand.

“Fine. I forgive you. Okay? Can we drop it?” You ask, desperate to get back to the little bit of peace you’d found before you’d spotted Thor.

Every fiber of your being is telling you to bolt but you don’t want to disappoint Jeremy who has been the only one showing you any sort of true kindness lately. You don’t want to run.

“Okay.” Tony relents.

“Alright.” You sigh.

“But seriously, how long have you and the assistant been shacking up?” Tony probes.

“Tony…” You whine.

“I’m just curious.” He shrugs.

This is embarrassing. “Years. Three, I think. Why do you care?” You growl.

“I don’t. Like I said, other interested parties.” He admits, sipping his bourbon.

“Other interested parties? Who the hell would be interested in who I’m sleeping with? Paparazzi? You selling info to trash magazines now?” You ask, your voice soft and meek despite the strength of your vocabulary. You shrink into your seat, lifting your arms up to wrap them around yourself as you steal a glance back towards Thor’s table only he isn’t there.

Your eyes scan the table again, quickly. The woman wearing stars is gone too.

“Is it love?” He asks.

“No.” You reply simply, distracted. Truthfully. And he doesn’t argue so he must see how you mean it. The thought of what you and Jeremy share pulls your attention back to Tony. “I-”

You can’t explain this to Tony without him finding out about what you can do, and you don’t want him to know. He’s been after you for testing to see what that explosion when you were a kid might have done to you since you somehow managed to live through it. Telling him why you and Jeremy started to sleep together would be revealing just that. You can’t do that.

“I have anxiety of sorts. Social anxiety. I don’t connect with people the way others do and that makes creating relationships difficult. Jeremy helps me with that. It’s just sex, Tony. Nothing else. He h-has a girlfriend.” You scan the crowd again, looking for him but he’s nowhere to be seen. Did he get stopped? Pulled aside by someone from the board? They’re probably here too.

As you scan, your eyes stutter over Thor’s familiar golden head.

No. This isn’t happening. Now you have to watch him dance with someone else too?

You shoot to your feet and Tony slowly rises to his beside you.

Run, Y/N. Run.

All of our instincts scream at you to run.

“See something?” He asks, glancing in the same direction you’re staring.

The dancing crowd continues to sway and dance to the slow ethereal tune of Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey. It’s like magic, the way the music makes your heart pound and the way seeing Thor again after weeks fills you with such sadness. He’s here with someone else.

Not you. His aura reaches you finally. He’s closer. At the center of the dance floor now. He’s still obscured and you can’t see him clearly, only the top of his blonde head.

You really have to concentrate to feel it, the golden glow of him. Too many people.

The crowd parts and your chest caves in. Expecting the sight but not ready to see it.

“Who’s that?” You gasp, your heart aching so painfully you’d swear someone has literally plunged their hand into your chest to physically twist it for it to feel like this.

Tony looks over, placing his hand on your lower back to keep his balance. “Oh, that’s Dr. Helen Cho. Thor’s date.”

Thor’s date. Thor’s date. Thor’s date.

You swallow hard but don’t dare tear your eyes away from the beautiful couple. This Dr. Helen Cho, the black of her dress is so deep it looks like someone carved out a piece of the night sky and forged it into a dress for her. Her long slender neck, the rose of her cheeks, her smile—she’s ecstatic to be here and in Thor’s arms. She wants him too.

You see that in her eyes because you feel it in the core of your very soul.

And Thor’s holding her close, swaying with her to the magical melody of the song.

This must be why he never called you. He’d found someone else to be with, that’s the only explanation for why he never reached out. No texts. Nothing.

Maybe she blocked you from his phone when she saw your messages?

You watch her lean up to whisper into his ear again as he swings her around slowly, forcing him to turn towards you.

Run.

He laughs, stunning smile on display for the room to see but she put it there. Her joke made him smile. His arms are around her waist.

Time to face it. He’ll never be yours.

Run. This time, you’re inclined to obey.

“I have to go.” You gasp, trying to ignore the weight in your chest. How does it feel so heavy but hollow all at once?

“Go? You just got here.” Tony argues.

Half an hour is not just. You tried. You hung in there even when you saw him here. You should have never come here. You should have stayed away where people like you to be. Alone, in your home. A recluse. The mysterious heiress.

Not good enough to fall for. Not worth listening to. Unimportant. Small. Insignificant. Forgotten.

Thor’s electric blue eyes find yours and your heart shatters. You claw at your stomach, hating the painful twist as his smile instantly vanishes.

That’s what you do to him. You take his smile away. Wipe it clean and non-existent.

Run!

“I have to go.” You repeat, almost crying. “Move, Tony.”

You push past him hard, using some of your strength and ignore his protests as he reaches for your wrist. You slip by him and behind the next table and the next but ahead there’s a crowd of partygoers laughing and talking. They’re blocking the way to the door with their huge dresses and chairs all wonky and out of place.

They’re drunk and fighting through them will take time.

Panicking you turn to your right and shift into a small run towards a lone wooden door, your dress hissing as it sways against the marble floor.

You don’t know where the door leads but anywhere is better than this place.

As the wooden door shuts, the music of the ballroom nearly dies as you find yourself in a smaller side room with sofas around an expensive looking ornamental carpet. The room is dark, save for a small lamp casting the room in a dim yellow glow. A waiting room.

This light is nicer. Warmer. Like the sun. No ice.

You move towards the lamp, like a moth to the flame and stop only when you can stare down at the small source of light.

It’s not hot enough. You wish there was a fire. You could make one if you really wanted to, but there’s no wood in the large fireplace. Just a grate with no logs.

The door behind you clicks shut again and you refuse to turn around. Addictive golden energy flows through you, engulfing you in pleasurable heat.

It completes you but you don’t want to see. You don’t want to know.

It’s probably Tony. You lie to yourself.

Yeah…just Tony.

“Y/N?” Thor’s voice asks gently. Confusion floods his tone.

Your heart lurches. Shattered as it is, it grinds against you painfully.

You don’t want him to see you. You don’t want to see him. What will he see? Why is he even here? Shouldn’t he be with his girlfriend? His date?

If he’s just going to apologize for ghosting you, you’d rather not hear it.

“Don’t. Please.” You beg. You don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to deal with this. Why can’t you just disappear?

“I was not expecting to see you here.” Thor says, closer. He’s not by the door anymore.

Maybe you can make a run for it? You’ll dive around him and hurry out before he can grab you.

“I’m sorry I came. I-”

“For work?” He offers and you turn to look at him.

It might have been better if you hadn’t.

The sight of him in his black and white tuxedo is too good. Tall. Majestic. He’s glorious all golden and formal.

His words spark something in you. Something like courage but not quite. Indignation? How dare he presume to know anything about you when he made it so very clear that knowing you is the last thing he could ever want.

The thought of all those unanswered text messages fills you with shame and embarrassment.

“What do you know about my work?” You demand, angrier because you’d tried so hard to keep that from him. What you do. Who you have to be? This life is the life that was given to you. The one you were born into. It’s not who you truly are.

You’re not delusional, before all of this mess you’d known you couldn’t hide it forever but for a while at least. Just until he could get to know you as the person you really are without all the money and the rumors. You just wanted to be the girl who loves coffee and pastries and books.

Or maybe it’s like you thought and maybe that’s why he didn’t call you? He’d seen who you are, and his interest had disappeared with the knowledge. Is that it?

“Is that why you didn’t call me? Because I-I didn’t tell you who I was?” You sigh, feeling worse. “I was going to tell you when I was ready I just-”

“No!” He rushes to say, stepping forward a few steps but he stops when you attempt to take a step back only to crash with the lamp. It rattles behind you, glass on porcelain.

You reach back to steady it, hating yourself for being so open with your reactions. Why can’t you be cool and collected? Hide it all underneath some carefully calculated outer shell?

“Then why?” You plead, forgetting the lamp as your insides peel and cut at the very sight of his chiseled chin, covered in the neatly trimmed fuzz of his beard. A few strands of his hair have come undone from his carefully styled hairdo and they’re falling against his forehead, tempting you to tuck them back. “Why didn’t you call? I waited and waited. I-From what you said I thought that…do you hate me because I didn’t tell you who I was right away? You can tell me the truth, Thor.”

“No. I meant to call you; I did.” Thor assures you, his voice straining with sincerity. A groan of regret in his throat. “But I-”

He stops, hesitating. Not sure why, you recover from your shock of having him step towards you and take a step towards him yourself. “But?”

Oh, he’s so close. You could touch his skin…that heat…like a moth to the flame.

“I-I forgot.” He says it quietly, as if he might be able to take it back the moment he wishes to. But he can’t. And now it’s out there.

Your eyes drift down to his hands which are balled into fists as your emptiness grows.

Just where I belong. Forgotten. You smile with your heartbreak, a small breath of a laugh whispered through your lips. Eyes stinging, you blink furiously to drive them back. You won’t cry in front of this man.

You swallow hard, moving back until your legs hit the edge of the fancy gilded sofa and sit.

“You forgot me.” You state, smiling sadly at the floor, speaking slow and quiet.

Every bit of confidence that Jeremy had built up in you tonight seems to vanish.

“I guess I’m not really surprised. Everyone seems to forget about me. Silly of me to expect different. Silly. It’s okay.” You nod. “I’m used to it.”

“No.” Thor rushes to your side, dropping down beside you. He takes your hands in his own, the heat of his skin so lovely compared to the cooler temperatures of everyone else in your life but you can’ even really enjoy it. “I don’t mean that I forgot about you. I have thought about you every day since I last saw you.”

Your heart flutters. Can he mean it?

“The mission we were on pulled Stark and I into space in pursuit of our enemy. I should have stopped to call you then when I realized that we would have to leave, or at least sent you a message that it might be possible I would not return for a while, but we were in such a hurry that I didn’t think of it until we got back.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Thor.” It sounds fake anyway. It lines up with the story of him going away and then coming back later. Your mind shoots back to the beautiful Korean woman he’d been dancing with. Helen Cho. “If you found someone else, you didn’t have to hide it from me. I-”

You hesitate because you don’t like to outright lie, and this is most definitely a lie.

“I would have been okay with just being your friend. She’s very beautiful, your date.” You smile at him, forced, still sad. Damn your lack of a poker face.

“No.” Thor grieves. He scoots closer, cupping the sides of your face.

God, his touch could melt metal.

“No, Y/N. Although I cannot deny that I am here with Dr. Cho, I can assure you that I am only here because she asked me to be her escort when Steve could no longer accompany her. Nothing more. And you…I could never be just friends with you.” He shakes his head, smiling affectionately at you. “I’d go mad.”

You search his eyes, yearning for him so much that you know he must be able to see it. Can what he says be true?

“You really left Earth?”

“Yes.” He nods, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“I’m sorry I sent you so many texts.” You confess, still hating yourself for the slip. Like Jeremy said, you should have played it cool and stopped when he never replied.

“I loved them.” Thor smiles, your heart soaring at the subtle stretch to his lips.

“But-you got back and never—you never responded?” You look down at his chest and he tilts your head back up to stare into your eyes again.

“I was not truly back. The members of the team that did return thought it best to release the story of our return to keep our enemies at bay. If they knew we were off planet for more than a day, they might try and cause trouble. Steve did not realize what releasing that story would do to us.”

Us. Oh, good God! Us! You and Thor are an us?

You lick your lips, staring at his then diverting attention back to his eyes. “So, you weren’t ignoring me?”

“No.” He shakes his head, shifting closer. Is he going to kiss you?! “I came to you as soon as I received those messages only…”

He pulls back and you hate it. So much that your hands react on their own and find the hard bulge of his shoulders. You pull him closer and his eyes go slightly wide at the strength with which you do it.

He elects to ignore your slip and you’re grateful for the moment.

“I came to see you, at your home at the tip of your tower but when I arrived you were…preoccupied. I left straight away.” The way he says it you know what he must have seen.

Fuck!

His hands slide down along your neck then finally come to rest on the sides of your shoulders.

“Oh.” You loosen your hold on him and bring your hands down to his sides.

Touching him at all has your head dizzy. The smooth fabric of his suit, the lovely aura he exudes right up against you, is all so delightful but you also have to contend with the guilt of what he must have seen. Wait…why are you feeling guilty? You and Thor weren’t together.

Your mind flurries over the confusion of how intensely you feel about Thor already. It feels like fate or destiny. Drawn to him the way you are. You don’t even have a choice whether you should be with him or not. The answer is yes. You must be with Thor.

“Have you found someone to cherish you?” He asks, giving your arms a squeeze. “It’s what you deserve.”

His assurance breaks your heart again. You’re the reason that he’s kept away this past week. He came to see you when he realized what you must think but then found you in bed with Jeremy.

“Jeremy’s always been very considerate of me, Thor. There are things about me that only Jeremy knows, and he’s been there for me through that. When you never called I-I withdrew. I hadn’t come out of my home in days and Jeremy offered me the only comfort and distraction that he can. He’s done it for years.” You bite your lower lip. Will this make Thor run? “I’m different from regular people, Thor and Jeremy offered once to help me experience something that would be dangerous for anyone to try with me, but we managed it and he’s been there for me in that way since.”

You’re not ashamed of what you and Jeremy share. It’s unique, sure, but it had been a necessity.

“It’s not an everyday occurrence, although I do have to admit that since you never called and when I finally gave up, it’s happened more and more often. I know that it must be strange but it’s just a way to cope. A way to get something that’s been missing my whole life. The emotions might not be there, but I-I can feel wanted when he’s with me. Like there’s nothing wrong with me.”

You avoid his gaze, embarrassed by this admission. That you need the sex to feel normal, not the sex itself.

“So, you are not in love with him?” Thor asks, eyebrows high on his forehead.

If that’s what he pulls out of what you just said to him, he’s even better than you ever realized.

“No.” You smile at him—a real smile—eager to please and assure him that you’re only interested in him. “I love Jeremy—as weird as this might sound—like family. He’s the only person I’ve ever been able to trust after my Papa Roman passed.”

“But you are not with him?” Thor asks, eagerly, his hands shifting up along your neck again.

The trail they carve burns hot.

“No.” You shake your head. “I-I only w-want to be with you, Thor. I’ve never felt this way about a guy before. Anyone, really.”

The nerves in your stomach make you queasy to say such stupid, sappy, and open things aloud to his face. If he weren’t sitting right in front of you, you might have blown chunks.

You drop your voice even lower, quieter. It’s a whisper in the semi-darkness with the hum of the string quartet finishing up their rendition of Young and Beautiful.

“I like you, Thor. A lot.” You blink, staring into his blue eyes hoping that the spark you see there means he’s passionate about you too. “Do you think that m-maybe you could like me ba-?”

You don’t get to finish as he lunges down towards you, pulling you up until your lips crash against his. It’s rough at first, needy and your teeth click. Your lips burn with the roughness that he kisses you with, but you groan, happy to have his lips on yours though it does hurt.

He pulls back, gasping quietly, hot breath on your lips. You sigh and laugh lightly. “Ow.”

“I’m sorry.” He says, eyes still shut as he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs once more. “I’ve been wanting to do that for months.”

This surprises you and you pull back, confused. “Months?”

Thor’s eyes shoot open. “Oh, I mean, not months. That would be strange right? It’s not like I’ve been following you around or anything I just—Well, I went to some of the places I knew you happened to go to and if you happened to be there, then I would get to see you. That’s not weird, right?”

Months?! “You’ve been watching me?”

“No!” He nearly screams in panic.

“You haven’t been watching me?” You ask, slightly disappointed, though it’s veiled in bewilderment.

“I mean, yes. I wasn’t stalking you or anything like that, even if that’s what Natasha kept saying.” He hurries to explain himself but you’re too busy basking in the blissful warmth of your confusion. “One day I just, I saw in you the café and you were so happy. Your eyes shone like stars, but you were so unappreciated by those friends you keep, and I wanted to keep seeing you. So, I kept going to the café and one day I was out by the park and you passed by with your friends and I saw you go into that museum of art, the Met? So, I went by a few days later-”

He’s babbling, quickly. Explaining himself as thoroughly as he can but all you’re hearing is the fact that every time you felt his warmth, every single time you bathed in his aura and thanked the universe for letting you feel it, Thor had been there intentionally to see you.

You.

You wrap your arms around his back again, under his arms and use your hands to push him towards you once again. His eyes widen once more at the shocking strength you exert but he doesn’t complain when your lips find his.

You shut your eyes and surrender to the bliss. You can feel his power coursing underneath his skin. It sends subtle shocks through to yours and you smile against his lips and let yourself burn him in return. He pulls back, a little, shocked by your heat. Not far enough to really break your kiss.

“What-?”

“I told you, I’m different.” You whisper against his lips. “I’m…I’ll explain it all to you but Thor, please can you just-?”

He seems to know what you want because he wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you again. This time, his lips are sensual, slow, and soft. His tongue traces the edges of your lips and you let him in, whimpering against his mouth as he softens for you.

He’s like velvet, smooth and slow, his beard tickling your chin and cheeks. His electricity charges you and your heat burns him. This kiss, slow and riddled with such yearning and feeling, chars him to you and finally you can use your strength.

You crush yourself to him. He groans and the sound is a tease of what’s to come. You can’t hold anyone like this, not Jeremy. No one. He seems to realize that he can use his strength too and he squeezes you tighter, breasts crushed against his chest and he tilts his head to the left and leans you back against the sofa.

After tonight, you can never go back to a time when you are not able to kiss Thor. Although you know he has a say in the matter, mentally you claim him as your own. Thor is yours and you wish anyone that hopes to stand in your way of having him luck.

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chris-sales-belly-ring · 5 years ago

Text

Sale/Brianne/Porcello: We Ain’t No Everyday Lovers

To make a long story short, I started out writing a Sale/Porcello fic abut Rick visiting Chris after finding out he needs Tommy John surgery.

I somehow ended up writing about Chris, his wife, and Rick all being together.

I may or may not edit this and put it on AO3 at a later date.

Summary, warnings, etc. under the read more.

Summary: When she walked in earlier and she saw Chris practically sleeping in Rick’s arms, she knew. When they talked while fixing dinner together, Brianne knew in her heart how much Rick loved Chris. She rightfully assumed that her husband had mutual feelings. As her eyes meet Porcello’s, she’s pretty sure that she’s in love with him, too.

Warnings: Polyamory. Talks of future pegging. (Everything else here includes sex acts that I don’t normally add tags for).

***

Even though they’re not teammates anymore, Rick is still his go-to person to talk baseball stuff with. He calls him to tell him about opting for surgery so that he doesn’t find out from the press. Chris could also use some encouragement from the best and kindest man that he knows. Porcello always knows the right thing to say when Sales has his rare self-deprecating moments. Chris admits that he’s a little scared that his arm won’t be the same post-surgery, but Rick assures him that he’ll be able to return to form.

Chris sighs. “But what if I’m not as good as before? It’s possible that I’m never that Chris Sale again.”

“You’re the best pitcher I’ve ever been around, Chris. If anyone can come back and be even better than they were before, it’s you. Your work ethic and your talent are unrivaled. I have all the faith in the world in you,” Rick tells him.

“I just feel like such a let down to everybody,” Chris says.

“You’re not letting anyone down. You’re an athlete who got injured, it happens every day. It was through no fault of your own. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Rick responds.

“You’re always my voice of reason,” Chris realizes.

“I’m still in Florida, you know. I never went home once spring training ended, so I’m only a few hours away from you . . . ”

***

“It feels like forever since I’ve seen you,” Chris says as he hugs Rick.

“I know you’ve missed my pretty face,” Rick jokes.

“You come bearing gifts, too? You trying to get into my wife’s good graces by bringing wine?” Chris teases.

“I may or may not have bought organic just for her,” Rick replies.

“She’s dropping off the kids with my parents since it will be too chaotic having them around here after my surgery. She should be back soon,” Chris tells him.

***

After they start watching a documentary on Netflix, Chris eventually falls asleep with his head on Rick’s shoulder. He grabs a blanket to cover them both with and he idly runs his fingers through Sale’s hair. He assumes that Chris probably hasn’t slept well the last few days, so he’s glad that he’s finally allowing himself to rest. Rick smiles when Brianne makes it back home. She gives him a genuine smile back and she tells him that she’s glad to see him. She notices Chris sleeping and she mentions that she doesn’t think he has gotten more than a few hours the past few nights.

“I roll over at 3 AM and he still looks wide awake. I caught him watching film at like 4 AM two nights ago. I’m so happy you’re here. Maybe you can talk some sense into him,” Brianne says.

“He’s just stressed out and a little scared. He’ll be back to himself in no time,” Rick assures her.

***

Chris wakes up to the strong smell of Italian food cooking. His stomach growls and he realizes that he doesn’t remember the last time he ate. He stretches as he gets off the couch and walks into the kitchen. There’s music playing while Rick and Brianne are talking and chopping up vegetables together. It’s not news to him how well his wife and his best friend get along, but he can’t help smiling as he watches them interact. He asks them if there’s anything he can do to help, but they tell him they’re almost done. Chris decides to set the table and he takes out the corkscrew to open the wine with.

“Do you mind keeping an eye on the sauce while I go talk to Chris upstairs for a few minutes?” Brianne asks.

“Go ahead, I got it,” Rick replies.

***

“He loves you, you know,” Brianne points out.

“Yeah, I know. He’s great,” Chris agrees.

“I mean, he loves you like I do. I can tell by the way he talks about you,” Brianne clarifies.

Chris blushes. “Oh. Are you mad?”

“I would’ve kicked him out if I was mad. I just want to know how you feel about him. You can be honest with me, Chris,” Brianne says.

“I’ve never done anything with him. I would never do that to you,” Chris answers.

“Of course not. I wasn’t accusing you of anything. It’s just that I could understand if you love him back,” Brianne explains.

“I honestly try not to think about my feelings for him too much,” Chris admits.

“Whatever you feel is ok,” Brianne assures him.

***

“This wine is amazing,” Brianne compliments.

“I have like two more bottles for you in my car,” Rick tells her.

“Wow, thank you. That was really thoughtful of you,” Brianne comments.

“He buys you wine and he shows up empty handed for me,” Chris jokes.

“Is my presence not enough for you?” Rick quips.

They finish off the bottle of wine and they take their time eating their dinner. Chris can’t remember the last time he laughed and smiled so much. Rick offers to rinse the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. Brianne reminds him that he’s a guest and that he has already been kind enough by cooking for them. He explains that he’s used to cleaning up the kitchen and that it’s truly not much of a chore to him. Rick gathers their plates, wine glasses, and utensils before Brianne can stop him. She just laughs and shakes her head at his stubbornness.

“How do you ever win arguments with him?” Brianne wonders.

Chris laughs. “I don’t.”

***

Brianne kisses Rick on the cheek. “Please take care of him for me. You can give him whatever he wants.”

“Are you . . . ”

“Giving you the go ahead? Yeah. He needs you right now,” Brianne whispers directly into his ear.

***

As Rick rinses off the last dish, he feels Chris wraps his arms around him from behind. He slowly brushes his lips against the back of Porcello’s neck and it makes him shiver. The tension between them has always been so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Two noble men can finally allow themselves to feel without guilt or shame. When Rick turns around and their eyes meet, Chris immediately brings their lips together. The kiss is both soft and passionate. It’s full of want and need, there’s a hunger that Sale didn’t even really realize he felt.

“Are you sure you want this?” Rick whispers against his lips.

Chris nods. “Yes. I want you to fuck me.”

“Has anyone ever . . . ”

“No, you’ll be my first,” Chris tells him.

***

Rick puts his hand over Sale’s mouth. “Shh, your wife is upstairs.”

“I wish she were down here,” Chris moans.

“You want her to see you like this? All spread out and full of cock?” Rick asks.

Chris bites his lip. “She’s a dominant little thing, she might like it.”

***

“This is giving me all kinds of strap-on ideas,” Brianne says.

Rick smirks. “You hear that? Your pretty little wife wants to fuck you, too.”

“You’ll have to teach me how to make him moan like this. He’s being so good for you,” Brianne comments.

It’s almost too much having Rick and Brianne talk about him so explicitly. Porcello digs his nails into Sale’s thigh as he starts fucking him harder. Brianne sneaks her small hand in between Chris and Rick’s body and she wraps it around Chris’ dick. She strokes him with the same rhythm of Rick’s thrusts. Chris never imagined that being with his wife and his best friend could be like this. He hears them whisper some of the things they want to do to him “next time” and his orgasm catches him off guard. His entire body shivers as he covers Brianne’s fist with cum. Rick gingerly pulls out and he checks to make sure that Sale is ok.

“I’ve never been better,” Chris replies.

Brianne kisses Chris. “I had no idea that you and Rick would look so fucking hot together. You made me so wet.”

He looks down and there’s a damp spot on the crotch of her red panties. The only other thing she’s wearing is a tank top with no bra underneath it. Chris pulls her on top of him and he slowly slides down the straps to her top. When her breasts are free, he palms them in his huge hands before taking his time sucking on her nipples. The little moans that escape her mouth make Sale’s cock twitch. When she tries to stick her hand in her panties, Chris gently bats her hand away. He tells her that there’s no need to touch herself when she has two guys that want to please her.

“Rick showed me how good he is with his mouth earlier. Want to find out for yourself?” Chris asks.

“Yes, please!” Brianne begs.

Brianne can’t remember the last time that she was intimately touched by a man other than Chris. Rick slides in between her legs and he gives her a few teasing touches over her thong. He softly massages the inside of her thighs with his fingers before kissing those same spots. She places her hands behind Rick’s head as she continues begging for his mouth. He slips her panties to the side and he licks his lips. He briefly turns toward Chris to tell him how pretty his wife’s pussy is. He spreads her lips before he finally licks her clit. Her eyes roll into the back of her head as he continues eating her out. Rick doesn’t mind his face being messy and it feels like he doesn’t have to come up for air.

“Good, isn’t he?” Chris whispers.

“Good is an understatement. He’s gonna make me cum soon,” Brianne says between moans.

Chris looks impressed. “Shit. Already? You have to teach me how to get her off this quickly.”

Brianne’s so wet that Rick’s fingers slip out while he’s fucking her. Just a little while ago, he was using the very same fingers to prep Chris. Just like her husband, Brianne’s enjoying his big, talented hands. He strokes her g-spot at the same time he sucks on her clit and that’s all she needs. She calls out Rick’s name as she shudders on his fingers. He continues touching her g-spot and it makes he cum again. She gently pushes his hand away when the overstimulation gets to be too much for her. Chris kisses her softly and he strokes her hair as she comes down from her orgasm.

“I think I literally saw stars,” Brianne eventually says.

Chris laughs. “He had that effect on me, too.”

“Baby, look. Rick’s still hard. I think we should help him out with that,” Brianne mentions.

“What do you have in mind?” Chris wants to know.

“Let’s blow him, together,” Brianne suggests.

They crawl between Rick’s spread legs. Brianne wraps her hand around the base of Rick’s cock before she starts sucking on the tip. She tells Chris to take his time once it’s his turn since he hasn’t given a blow job since college. While Sale is slowly working on taking more, Brianne massages Rick’s balls. The shaky moan that Porcello makes is music to their ears. He has a death grip on the couch cushions as he does his best not to thrust into Chris’ mouth. Rick doesn’t want to make him choke, so he has to force himself to calm down a little bit. He tells Chris how good of a job that he’s doing as he runs his fingers through his hair.

Brianne caresses Sale’s cheek. “You’ve missed having a cock in your mouth, haven’t you?”

It’s a rhetorical question because they all know the answer, of course. Chris’ jaw is slightly sore, but he doesn’t slow down. After everything his two favorite people have done for him tonight, he wants to show them how much he appreciates it. He has loved the woman next to him since the moment he met her. He’s not sure when he fell for Rick, but it was effortless and it has been for a few years now. Brianne coaches Chris on his breathing and she gives him some direction. She slips one of the couch cushions underneath his knees to give him more support.

“Look at our boy. He’s a natural,” Brianne says with pride.

Brianne’s use of “our” doesn’t go unnoticed by either man. When she walked in earlier and she saw Chris practically sleeping in Rick’s arms, she knew. When they talked while fixing dinner together, Brianne knew in her heart how much Rick loved Chris. She rightfully assumed that her husband had mutual feelings. As her eyes meet Porcello’s, she’s pretty sure that she’s in love with him, too. Since Sale has everything under control now, she moves onto the couch next to Rick. She can taste herself on Rick’s tongue as she leans in to kiss him. He tucks a blonde tress behind her ear as their kiss deepens. Sale has the perfect view of them and he has never seen a more beautiful sight.

“Are you close?” Brianne softly asks.

“Yes,” Rick answers.

“You might want to finish him off with your hands, babe,” Brianne advises.

Chris follows his wife’s advice. He uses both of his fists to jerk Rick off with. It doesn’t take long for him to cum. Before Sale can wipe his hands off, Brianne decides to lick his fingers clean. She doesn’t swallow before she kisses Chris. They both moan as their kiss gets sticky and messy. Rick watches them eagerly share his cum and it’s hotter than it has any right to be. They join him on the couch, Brianne on one side and Chris on the other. Porcello grabs the blanket that he and Chris used earlier to cover themselves up with. He wraps an arm around both of them and they all sigh in contentment.

“We’d probably be a lot more comfortable in our bed,” Brianne remarks.

“Yeah, but that’s too far,” Chris says.

Rick kisses him on the forehead. “I’ll carry you.”

***

“I don’t want you to leave us in the morning,” Brianne tells him.

“Who says I have to?” Rick responds.

Brianne nervously bites her lip. “I just thought you might not be interested in this being a thing with all three of us, you know?”

“I don’t want you to ever think that I’m trying to take Chris away from you. I love him, but I love you, too. You’re a package deal to me,” Rick explains.

Chris is asleep, so he’s completely oblivious to the conversation going on between his wife and his best friend. Before Brianne gets under the covers to snuggle Chris, she leans across him to kiss Rick good night. None of them really know the logistics of how things will work once baseball season resumes, but that’s a problem for another day. For now, they’ll fall asleep peacefully in the comfort of each other’s arms.

#Sale/Brianne/Porcello #Fanfic #Ficlets

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cami-chats · 5 years ago

Text

Cooking Class

Written for @marvelpolyshipbingo

Rating: Gen

Warnings/Triggers: None

Pairings: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers

Summary: Pepper signs her and Tony up for a couples cooking class, and Tony-- in true fashion-- gets a guy’s number.

Square Filled: N3-Constellation Square

Read on AO3 or below

"A couples cooking class?" Tony repeated. "Please tell me you're joking. Pep, Pepper, spice of my life, I need you to tell me that you're joking."

"I'm not," Pepper said, flipping through some papers.

"Why would we need a cooking class? We eat out most of the time, and when we don't, we have a chef." Not to say that Tony wasn’t capable of cooking rice when the occasion called for it, but anything more complicated than that and it fell apart.

"Well we're not going to have a chef forever."

"We're not?" Tony asked, blinking at her. "I'm generational money, Pep, I grew up this way and I'm going to die this way."

She gave him a flat look. "We're going to get old and be domestic, and I, for one, want to be prepared."

Tony was about to argue with that, then he paused, raising an eyebrow. Pepper had gotten used to the rich lifestyle when her and Tony were dating, and by the time they got married, it was almost like she'd been there the entire time. She didn’t think that one day they’d be without all their luxuries, this had to be something else. "Uh-huh, what is this actually about?"

She was quiet for a second, then, "Natasha said it was a good fun couple activity."

Tony groaned, but they both knew that they were doing this now. "I can't believe we're taking Natasha's advice."

"She gives good advice." Pepper paused, probably remembering that time Natasha had convinced her to go to karate classes and she'd absolutely hated it. "About our relationship," she added. After all, it had been Natasha who floated the idea of polyamory to them, and that had worked like a dream.

"Not other relationships though," Tony said with a chuckle. Her matchmaking tendencies normally ended in failure, but that's why she had specifically said 'about our relationship' and not 'all relationships'. "Fine, couples cooking class. Great."

"I want you to promise me that you won't start playing with chemicals if you get bored."

"Aww c'mon! It's a kitchen, Pepper, they won't even have the fun chemicals."

"Allow me to rephrase," she said, her business voice edging in a little, like it always did when Tony was pretending not to get the point. "I want you to either stay focused on cooking or stand there without touching anything. No fires allowed."

"What if the cooking requires a fire?"

"Then I'll do it, and you can stand there and tell me how you could make it bigger if I let you. Which I won't, because I like my hair where it is. It's only one class a week."

"For how many weeks?"

When she didn't reply immediately, Tony knew he wouldn't like the answer. "Ten."

"Ten weeks? That's two and a half months."

"Funnily enough, I can count."

"You were an accountant when we met, I know you can count."

"It's nice to remind you sometimes, it's like you forget."

"I could never forget Mrs. Stark."

"This is what I get for taking your last name."

"It was the right decision, people couldn't get mad about the company being out of Stark hands."

"Right," she said drily, "because that's why I did it."

"Pepper Potts sounded good, but not as good as Pepper Stark. Is that why you changed it?"

"Yes, Tony. I took your last name because it made my name sound better. First class is tomorrow, your schedule is clear, I'll pick you up from the workshop at five."

"Tomorrow? But-"

"I couldn't give you time to find a way out of it."

"So you tricked me instead. Very nice. That's not the way for a happy and healthy relationship, you know."

Knowing that he was exaggerating, Pepper rolled her eyes.

In general, Tony wasn't very good at doing what he was told. In the kitchen however, it was easy to do what the instructor said, and even easier to listen to Pepper when she corrected him on something he hadn't cared to pay attention to.

Pepper had to go to the bathroom, so Tony was spinning himself in circles on the stool. Literally. The stool could swivel, and Tony was keeping his promise to Pepper by not messing with anything while the lemon bars were in the oven, so he was spinning in circles.

"You're Tony Stark, ain'tcha?" a man off to the side asked, and Tony slowed to a stop.

The room was spinning around him, but he thought he did a pretty good job of pretending like it wasn't; he had plenty of practice, after all. "Yep, that's me."

"I'm sure you get this all the time, but I wanted to say thank you."

That normally wasn't what followed the phrase 'I'm sure you get this all the time', but it was a happy surprise. "Uh, you're welcome?"

The room started to settle, and the man came into focus. Right, he'd been at the table next to their's. He was big, like could probably bench press Tony and Pepper at the same time big, with long dark hair pulled back in a bun, stubble lining his jaw, and-- most importantly-- a prosthetic arm that Tony recognized as one of his own. He didn't recognize the person it was attached to though, which meant he hadn't been part of the original trials. "Before you came along, prosthetics cost- well, an arm an' a leg," he said with a half smile. "This one works like a real arm and didn't cost half as much so... thanks."

"No problem. You should thank Pepper when she gets back, she's the reason they're affordable. I'm Tony, by the way, since we didn't do official introductions earlier."

"Bucky. I didn't wanna interrupt," he said, smile growing wider. "Seemed like th' two of you were uh, busy."

Tony snorted. "I don't like quiet and she doesn't like when I talk at her. Believe me, we don't fight half as much as it looks like."

"Still sounds like a lotta fightin'," he teased.

"And you and that blond beefcake are better?"

He snorted. "It's ridiculous to hear Stevie described like that."

"Are we talking about the same person? What other way is there to describe him?"

"Nah that's how he is now, but back in the day, he was a shrimpy lil thing. I could pick him up with one hand."

"You still could," Tony pointed out, poking at Bucky's flesh and blood bicep. "That doesn't feel like it's for show."

"It ain't," Bucky said, amused and moving slightly closer instead of stepping back. "But he's big enough to fight back now, and he don't like gettin' dragged around."

"He's missing out, it's pretty fun."

"That an offer?"

"Not if your boyfriend is going to punch me when he finds out."

"Me and Steve have an open relationship. If the news is to be believed, you do too?"

"I wouldn't call it open but yeah, basically. I'm free Sunday night if you wanted to grab a bite, see if it'll work out."

"Can't do late Sunday, gotta work early on Monday's, but yeah that sounds good." Bucky fished out his phone from his pocket and unlocked it, handing it over for Tony to put his number in.

Pepper came back while Tony was typing in his digits, and she shook her head fondly. "I'm gone for three minutes and you get a date." she turned to Bucky and talked like she was confiding a secret, "He does this all the time and acts like I'm the flirty one between us."

"How rude of him." Bucky accepted his phone back when Tony gave it to him. "And you're really okay with...?"

"Absolutely," she said, waving him off. "Gives me time to get a few things done that Tony doesn't like."

"Like what?"

"Painting my nails, he hates the smell."

"Can't you do that in the bathroom?" Bucky suggested.

Tony wrinkled his nose. "The stink gets everywhere."

"Sensitive nose, got it. Steve's prolly gonna stare at you for a minute straight when I tell him, by the way. He always tries to see what I see in people."

"He'll love me, I'm an absolute delight."

"You're damn right you are," Pepper said, peering through the oven door.

Sure enough, when Steve came over a few minutes later and Bucky told him, he looked at Tony for a long while, his eyes squinting like maybe if he tried hard enough he'd figure it out. At the end of that though, he said to Bucky, "I don't see it."

Bucky pat him on the shoulder. "I don't expect you to."

#marvel #fanfic #tony stark #pepper potts #bucky barnes #my writing

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therearwindow · 5 years ago

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> Hey Reader. Saddle up. This is long winded as fuck. There are little notes at the bottom for the numbers in the text. Anyway. The voices used to write this change. A lot of it will sound childish. I wrote parts in that voice because it was necessary for that part of my life. Also I suck at organizing my thoughts. Please keep my past English teachers in your hearts. They did the best they could with me.<

So I am living in a state where if there is not contest, you might as well wait it out for 18 months living separately. I moved here from my home state thinking things could be better with a new start, and I didn't want a life without my step kids. Of course things went awry, and now we're separated, and I don't see my step kids everyday.

With him I didn't have to pay for anything. I wanted to. He makes significantly more money than I ever did, and that fucked with me. I couldn't be financially helpful. I had a job, and it meant nothing in comparison. He made me feel that. Tried to get me to be a stay-at-home-mom because it was financially more useful than me working. I grew up working for everything I wanted. Work and hard work was what I knew. A household with two working parents was what I knew and what I wanted. He won eventually.

I was 23 and he was 31. He was going through a divorce with two kids from his previous marriage. I was young, carefree, loved kids, stupid and hopeful. I still high on trying to make less mistakes and better myself by going to school by finding that mythical job that I love and not struggle. Though I kept forgetting that I have depression, bipolar, and anxiety. That I will more than likely have to take pills everyday of my life to function "normally," in addition to therapy. At the point I met him I was doing neither medication nor therapy. I was stuck in well-meaning loop of "I'm trying." It of course want good enough. So I never progressed.

We dated for two years before I decided I wanted him to ask me to marry him. Stupid. Those two years were filled with him putting me down about my mental health, my silver of aspirations, my social life. My social life already lacked from being pretty introverted. Any friends I had at the time I'd known for years and had grown apart from with sprinkles of hangouts here and there. Then I made new friends. Friends from work who wanted to do things with me and understood me a little better. My growing friendships with stunted with being guilt tripped. His kids the bait.I took it. I had fallen for them. I had decided I wanted to be in their lives. I loved them. I was also told that I wouldn't be having children of my own with him. Though because of loving them, and because I loved him, thought he was the best thing to happen to me, I tried to make myself forget about having something I wanted the most out of life. I loved my stepkids even more. I also tried to compromise with my social life until nothing was enough, and I hardly ever saw my friends outside of work. I was so fucking vulnerable. I am so god damn thankful for those friends I met at work still being around for nearly 6 years.

Two years of red flags. Two years of trying to compromise, then fight, then my silence, and submission. Not ultimate submission, no, I still had some pride left. I put up the occasional fight and occasional acts of disobedience. I had to. Then there was happiness. Because I submitted. Duh. He got what he wanted. So I was happy¹. Twenty-five had come around, and my poorly wired brain told me it was time to get married. He loved me. So why not? Summer 2015 he popped the question during Movie In The Park. I knew it was coming because we talked about it and he let me pick out my ring. I was overjoyed. He paid the money for the ring, but I still was surprised he actually did it. After years of feeling unworthy of love, like I didn’t deserve happiness, like I was only good for pushing people away, someone wanted to marry me. Sounds rad, but it wasn’t. Against the better collective judgment of myself and other who knew my relationship, I said yes.

Now activated was stressful wedding planning. He ended up footing the bill for the entire thing because my dad couldn’t (or wouldn’t, still unclear) help pay for anything. Part of that was because for some reason my almost spouse wanted to get married the same year. November to be exact. He, to this day says he was joking about the timing, but I will never believe him. The reason? Taxes. We wouldn’t be able to file jointly married if we waited. He had it in my head that my low income was needed that tax year to lessen the amount of taxes he would owe. I didn’t get the venue I wanted because of moving the wedding up. So I decided that I wanted to do a courthouse wedding. He had already gotten married once before, and if I wasn’t getting the wedding I really wanted, then I would settle for much less. He said at some point during an argument that if I didn’t agree to a big wedding like he wanted, then we shouldn’t get married. I could no longer have family I wanted to attend be there, but I really wanted to get married. I was blind. So we got married November 2015. I wasted a good wedding theme and the time of everyone who attended. We never even got our wedding photos back. There was an ice storm. My dad paid for my dress giving me a check on my wedding day, but he (at my request not thinking he would actually do it) deducted money owed him from the balance. Looking back I feel that it was just a shitty wedding day for a multitude of reasons.

It’s November 2019, and this month would be our 4th anniversary. It’s weird that we’re not celebrating it. We kind of forced it last year. Even got a puppy. Poor Tonks. Though I’m also in another relationship for over a year now. So there’s that. He’ll argue that it’s that relationship that ended us because he put up with so much for me. We were shitty before boyfriend came into play. I also had a miscarriage during year two of our marriage, and that nearly broke us. I should have left because there were some shitty things said directed at me during that time. Like really shitty. Though back to polyamory, not wanting to let go of something good that was happening to me won over, and eventually helped me leave. Not the person. It should be known that part of our “redefining ourselves” idea coming with moving to a new state included polyamory.

So. While getting ready to make the move, my spouse had to move ahead of me and the kids. We talked about being in an open relationship. He only wanted a shared girlfriend. I said fuck that and scrubbed that idea opting for polyamory. Why? Because I am polyamorous. After years of being told that I was a dirty cheater, failing at being monogamous, beating myself up for failing, and deep suppression, I had come to terms with being poly. So, okay, he went with it. I explicitly pointed out that once we went this way, I would not go back to monogamy. I couldn’t. It was kind of like coming out for the third time in my life. First with coming out as bisexual during my teen years, the second coming out as pansexual in my 20s.² I sold him on the idea that for me, it would just be sex. I have always been able to separate sex from emotions. I never needed to feel anything about someone before fucking them. After a short while I stopped feeling guilty about not feeling guilty. So whatever. I like sex. I did however make it a point to tell people I was not in it for the feels. I’m not a complete monster. Though that turned into never sleeping with the same partner more than once so as no to catch “feels.” When I did catch feelings I tried to hide it because the sex was good, and a few times admitted my feelings ending up in short-lived relationships. I fucked up, I know. The long and the short was spouse declared that he needed to find someone first before I could do anything physical with anyone. His reasoning was uneven playing field between our genders.³ Blah, blah, blah. That was March 2018. The next month I met my boyfriend online.

You would have thought I went against the rules my spouse and I had previously developed. He was on my case. I was happy talking to my boyfriend. Found out he lived really close to where I was moving (big fucking plus and homeboy was cute af sorry not sorry). Spouse at this point had not found anyone to sleep with. So after being difficult and me telling him that it was pretty unfair that I had to wait, he allowed me to go on a date and let me have sex. Two separate people, and not my boyfriend. May rolled around and me and would be boyfriend have been talking for a month. Spouse had found someone. I was sick to my god damn stomach. Like who else wanted to date this idiot besides me. He was my idiot. As a gesture towards learning to be open and honest with our feelings I expressed my discomfort. Which eventually got dismissed with “you’ll be okay.” Because he was now doing something, everything was okay. My feelings definitely didn’t matter. Though he acted like they did.⁴

May also meant that it was time for the kids and I to move. The school year was over, and it was time for them to spend time with their mom. So spouse and I were kid free for three weeks. it also meant I would finally get to meet the guy I’ve been talking to for a month. I won’t lie. I was fucking elated. I had planned to go at least a day ahead of spouse to get some alone time. Time to meet the guy, see if I still liked him in person, and ya know, do the do. That did not fucking happen. I’ll admit I let my excite get the better of me, a lot. To the point where I lied about where I was going and how. This was in response to spouse being himself and not allowing me to take time out to see my future boyfriend (spouse and I both ended up at the new house not too far apart from each other). I got upset and was dishonest. Not proud of that. It was not good. To me I felt like spouse got his alone time with the new woman, twice I might add. Why couldn’t I be granted the same? Spouse almost didn’t let me use the air bnb he was staying at which had two rooms. I declared that he could not use the same bed him and I slept in to have sex with her.⁵ So he used the other room. Which I also used. Now. We had also a rule stating no overnights. Yeah, post-coital naps do not fall under that. It was already late at night. I was tired. The plan was nap and go home. Duh not stay the night. We also had a few other rules: 1. communicate 2. do not contact the other partner while they are with another Person unless it can’t wait. My spouse showed up at the air bnb because I didn’t communicate, and he thought I was taking too long. Tried to pin breaking the overnight rule on me too. Nah. Eventually I got to go on a proper date with future boyfriend, and it was amazing.

Over a year and a half later I am separated from my spouse and have been with my boyfriend. I moved out in April 2019. I was doing okay for living on my own for the first time in six (6) years. I had a job after a year of basically being guilted into being a stay-at-home-mom⁶. Which I enjoyed the growing closer to my kids part of it, but the constant being at home with only precious baby of a dog, and being expected to spend large portions of my day keeping up a house, not leaving the house to work, put in a deep depression. No matter how hard I tried to try hard, I couldn’t make myself do shit. Small accomplishments were huge to me, and meant little to spouse. So having a job and my own space was fucking magical. I mean spouse totally had to cosign on my apartment, and was (is) giving me $500 a month (ending this coming December) as hush money because I’m probably not going to qualify for alimony. For the record, should I qualify, I wouldn’t be asking for more than what would help me be independent of him. Dude makes six figures a year. He has enough to spare. I wouldn’t be out to get all his money. I don’t want to interrupt the lively hood of my step kids. Anyway. Like I said, it’s November 2019. I lost my job last month. I have a car I need to make payments on, utility bills, it was necessary for me to adopt my dog out, and I feel low again.

Needless to say that the last month has been kind of shitty. Oh. My dad also has a stage four brain cancer. Trust me that plays into the not currently employed thing. I’m still look and applying, but what if my dad dies and I’ve had the new job for less than a month? I’ll obviously be taking the amount of bereavement time allowed. It’s my fucking dad. So I take bereavement and then come back and lose my job? I’ve applied for unemployment as a temporary means of income⁷. Though it’s taking about a month to see if I can receive it. The idea had been to stay on unemployment throughout the holiday season while still looking for a job, and not passing up a good opportunity. Cross the jobless bridge again if I need to in the event my father dies. I have no fucking clue what to do except move forward. What else though? I don’t know what I should be doing while I’m moving. I’m still seeing my therapist, and now new psychiatrist. Both of them working out well. So that’s good. Part of why spouse and I haven’t really pushed for other reasons for immediate divorce is because I really need the health insurance. I got to the doctors a lot for various health issues. If I didn’t have health insurance, all the progress I’ve made towards my mental health will be undone in a much shorter time than it took to get it to a better place. I can’t let that happen. I turn 30 this coming March. I’m fighting to begin the next decade of my life on a good note.

*BONUS ROUND* My still being legally married is causing other problems. My boyfriend’s parents have no idea that I’m still legally married. I do not have good feelings about beginning how to start that conversation. It’s been over a year. Boyfriend’s sister knows. We (he) told her (while I was in the same room) to see what she thought. She thinks it will be fine. It probably wouldn’t be if I had biological children. Which I don’t. Blessing in disguise I’ve been told.

If you’ve made it this far I really wish I had something to give you for reading through my short review of my life. Trust me. This is the short version. All in all it was an abusive relationship, and despite my current predicaments, I am in a better place since leaving. I really left a fuck ton out. You’re welcome. I’m not new to the internet. I know some of you will want to comment things that I don’t agree with. If they aren’t insightful, to point out a typo, and only cruel, then I don’t give two fucks. I understand that I may be the ”villain” in his story, and after writing what I did I can only imagine what he would say. I am a happy little camper with my boyfriend. He deserves a god damn medal or some shit for sticking with me after things got hairy. He is awesome.

¹ Years later Paramore's "Fake Happy" would cause me to break down into tears. That was when I realized I was situationally happy. It was fake.

² I am 100% not claiming polyamory as a sexual identity. Honestly I could be better educated. I am comparing the feelings. Those being free, shoulders a little lighter, and most of all happier. I will also not entertain discussions of bisexuality versus pansexuality.

³ Q.Q some more you sexist prick

⁴ A little over a year later I came to the realization that I always HAD to ask for permission. He did, but he never HAD to. He had the power in the relationship. I had to mind my Ps and Qs so to speak. If I said no, we had to discuss. If he said no, that was it. So I never wanted to discuss anything with him.

⁵ The “no same bed” thing I lobbied for carried over into our new house. I’m just not cool with that. There was OUR space and THE space. Eventually spouse barred me from ever using the house, and boyfriend was not allowed inside of it period.

⁶ He won.

⁷ Needing assistance seriously hurts my pride. I'm stuck between getting off of it as soon as possible, and falling further into debt.

#have mercy on my soul #relationships #divorce #emotional abuse #mental abuse #financial abuse #marriage #polyam problems #lost #long reads #growing up #my year in review #moving forward #moving forward without direction #villains #typos

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popatochisssp · 6 years ago

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Snips & Snails 5/7

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans & HT!Papyrus, HT!Sans/Reader, HT!Papyrus/Reader Chapter Warnings: Brief panic attack, healthy discussed polyamory

It's hard to feel 'morally upright' when you're in love with your brother's spouse.

AO3 Link

INTEGRITY (Optionally Canon)

Janine was looking at him flatly, in that no-nonsense way that had so endeared her to him in the first place.

He isn’t sure how much he appreciates the look now.

“Papyrus,” she says. “Do you really think that’s a fair assessment of yourself? That you’re ‘the worst brother in the world’?”

Papyrus considers it.

“No, I Definitely Think That’s Just About The Size Of It!” he decides. “I Am, Actually, The Worst!”

And he is.

He has to be.

Because a good brother wouldn’t go and do something as stupidly selfish as develop feelings for his brand new sibling-in-law.

Papyrus isn’t quite sure how Janine even got this out of him except that she’s very good and very sneaky.

It’s the whole reason he started seeing her as his therapist, but it’s also considerably jarring when she manages to finesse the exact thing he wants to talk about the least and make it the center-stage of discussion.

It had just seemed as if one minute, they were talking about how things were finally settling back down after Sans’ wedding, and then the next, he was talking about you, in all the ways a brother-in-law shouldn’t.

Your smile like sunshine, your laugh like music, your eyes the most incredible color he’s ever seen, and…

Stars above, he’s a piece of work for even having these thoughts.

“They’re My Friend,” he says aloud. “They’re Married To My Brother! I Was The Best Man and Skeleton Of Honor At Their Wedding, For Fuck’s Sake! This Is… Romance Is Not An Option Here, Why Am I Like This?!”

“So…what are you going to do?”

Janine’s voice is enough to nudge Papyrus back from the ledge he’d been rapidly approaching.

“…What Do You Mean, ‘Do’?”

Janine shrugs. “You like them, don’t you?” she prompts. “You’re going to do something about this, right?”

Papyrus frowns. “I…Well, Of Course, I Like Them, But—”

“So, what’s the plan, then?”

“There Isn’t A Plan, I—”

“Well, you’re gonna break up your brother’s marriage somehow, so you can be with them instead, aren’t you?”

“NO! STARS ABOVE, NO,” Papyrus exclaims, utterly aghast. “I WOULD NEVER! THOSE TWO ARE MY FAVORITE COUPLE OF ALL TIME! THEY MAKE EACH OTHER SO HAPPY!”

Papyrus was absolutely, totally sure of that.

Seeing you and Sans together never failed to make him feel all gooey and soft, like looking at a whole bucket of kittens. You were his best friend and Sans was his best brother, and your relationship made you both so adorably happy—Papyrus loved that, more than anything!

“JUST BECAUSE I’VE BEEN…WONDERING ABOUT THINGS LATELY—” like the feeling of holding your hand in his, or pressing his teeth to your cheek, “—THAT DOESN’T MEAN I’D EVER DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT! I WOULD NEVER TAKE THAT KIND OF HAPPINESS AWAY FROM SANS AND—Ohhh, You Tricky Therapist, You, I See What You’re Doing…”

Janine just smiles beneath Papyrus’ squinting glare.

“I’m just letting you talk, Papyrus,” she says lightly, and he hears all the smugness in the world in it. “Having feelings like this for somebody you’re close to and care a lot about… it’s very natural and there’s nothing ‘wrong’ or ‘bad’ about it.”

Papyrus huffs. “Yes, It’s Not Bad At All To Lust After Your Own Brother’s Spouse.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t work here,” Janine gently reminds him. “And I don’t think you’d be nearly so upset about these feelings if they were only ‘lusting.’”

Oh, damn her.

She sees through everything Papyrus puts up and he hates it.

(He needs it and he knows it: a kick in the pants is the only thing that works to make him actually deal with his problems instead of pretending they aren’t there.)

(But he still hates it.)

“Just thinking and feeling a certain way, even if it seems wrong, is totally fine. It only becomes ‘bad’ if you’re planning on doing something harmful to the people and relationships in your life over these impulses. And you said it yourself— you have no intention of doing anything about this.”

“I……I Suppose So,” Papyrus grudgingly admits.

Janine’s smile is patient. “You need to keep working on giving yourself a break sometimes, Papyrus. You’re a great guy, but you’re only—”

“If You’re Going To Say I’m ‘Only Human,’ Please Don’t!” Papyrus cuts her off. “That’s Such A Species-Centric Phrase. You Know, I Really Don’t Care For How Human-Coded Language Is Up Here On The Surface. Surely, There Are More Inclusive Ways To Get One’s Point Across Without Defaulting To ‘Human’ As An Adjective?”

“Is this something you’re actually upset about, or are you just trying to get out of talking more about your feelings for your human-in-law?”

“I Was Certainly Trying To,” Papyrus readily agrees, “But Our Session Is Almost Up, So I Figured You’d Let Me Get Away With It.”

His blunt honesty makes Janine chuckle. “Well, you’re not wrong, there’s no way we have enough time to unpack all that in two minutes. That can just be our food for thought next time.”

Fantastic! Papyrus is dreading it already.

They wrap up the session and Janine only briefly stops him on his way out to say, “You’re not the worst brother in the world, Papyrus. Seriously, go easy on yourself, you’re only…skeleton.”

“Terrible Execution,” Papyrus returns, “But The Effort Is Noted And Appreciated!”

He’s not sure he believes her. He still feels like the worst brother in the world, but there’s one saving grace to this entire SNAFU.

Sans is, as a rule, oblivious.

He undoubtedly has no idea that his brother has developed these shameful feelings for the love of his life, and Papyrus can keep up the charade for as long as he needs to! Just until the feelings go away on their own!

He has no Plan B for if they don’t.

He barely has a Plan A.

But!

He doesn’t call himself ‘The Great Papyrus’ for nothing and he’s survived much, much worse than this!

Everything is going to be…fine.

It has to be.

Or not.

Papyrus is only allowed to live in his wonderful, ‘everything is fine’ fantasy for a few more days until cruel reality barges its way in.

Or at least, Sans does.

His big brother’s skull pokes its way into the kitchen, right in the middle of Papyrus making dinner.

Sans’ red eye-light roves slowly over the familiar scene and in response to Papyrus’ wordless, ‘Yes, Excuse You, How May I Assist You?’ stare, he speaks the most unnerving words of all time into existence.

“ya’ need any help in here?”

Suspicious.

So terribly suspicious that a lazybones like Sans might’ve developed a wild urge to be helpful, and yet…

Papyrus can’t quite bring himself to discourage such a (fishy, dubious, weird) miracle.

“I Suppooose So,” he says warily as Sans ambles his way into the room. “You Can…Start Peeling The Potatoes For Me While I Throw The Casserole In…”

“yeah, sure,” Sans agrees, picking up a tuber. “no prob.”

Papyrus refuses to let Sans out of his line of sight, even as he slides the casserole dish into the oven. This is just too odd, must be some kind of prank or joke and Papyrus will not be caught unawares!

He decides to ask after you; if you’re not here to help him with dinner because you’re still sleeping or something.

You had the day off today, not for any particular reason, but just because.

Normally, Papyrus would find that so abominably lazy, clearly Sans rubbing off on you in the worst possible way, but…

He knows how hard you work the rest of the time.

You do so many things, often before they’re even asked of you, just because you feel like it’s the right thing to do, and that’s so… so…

Papyrus firmly believes that someone like you deserves a break now and then.

Sans smiles at the sound of your name, the way he always does.

“nah,” he says, “they’re awake. just hangin’ out in our room ‘til dinner.”

Which…

Begs the mildly terrifying question of…

Why aren’t you here now?

And why isn’t Sans with you?

“………hey, actually… while we’re talkin’ about ‘em…”

Oh, no.

Instantly, Papyrus knows what’s going on—he can tell by the set of Sans’ shoulders, the tone of his voice, this whole suspicious trap he should’ve seen through from the start.

Sans knows.

Sans knows everything.

“Oh God,” Papyrus breathes. “Oh Stars, Fuck, No, No, No, No…”

Sans turns to face Papyrus and his eye-light shrinks at whatever he sees in his brother’s face.

“whoa, whoa, hey,” he says, abandoning a half-peeled potato on the counter. “Pap, it’s… you’re, relax, ya’ don’t gotta… ya’ look like you’re gonna have an attack or somethin’…”

“Yes, It Sure Does Feel Like That!” Papyrus wheezes, hand to his chest.

It feels too tight, suddenly, which is so stupid because he doesn’t even have lungs and yet, it’s getting harder for him to breathe.

He’s…he’s light-headed and his soul is vibrating at a frequency fit to shatter glass and it’s starting to feel a little like he’s dying, but that part at least feels appropriate.

Sans knows, he’s figured it out or maybe just seen—maybe it was obvious, the things he’s been feeling every time he looked at you, things that only Sans should be thinking about you and not him because Sans married you, he was your husband and Papyrus was just…was just…

The absolute cad who wanted you, too.

“I’m…I’m Sorry,” Papyrus manages to get out, voice tight. “Sans, I—Oh Stars, I’m So Sorry, I, You…! You Were Never Supposed To Find Out, And I, Obviously I Would Never, I, I, I…I…”

He stumbles a little, his damned knees giving out, but he half-catches himself on the counter.

Sans looks alarmed to say the least.

In the blink of the eyes that neither of them has, he’s right there next to Papyrus, under his arm and trying to support him.

Which honestly makes Papyrus feel worse.

Sans is such a good brother, always trying to take care of Papyrus in some way or another.

Even now, when he knows what a horrible little brother he really has, the kind who’d want to date his spouse behind his back.

It’s a vicious mantra in his skull right now, The Worst, The Worst, The Worst on repeat, and he almost doesn’t hear it when Sans tries to talk to him.

“alright, alright, take it easy, bro, i think… think we might’ve gotten some wires crossed here? but that’s, it’s fine, just…can we chill out a little for a second?”

“I’m Sorry,” Papyrus apologizes again, grimacing. “Please, Sans, I…Yuh…You Have To Believe Me, I Never, I Was Never Going To…To… Please…”

“okay,” Sans agrees. His voice is a low, steady murmur, almost infuriatingly calm if not for the way it slightly eases the sheer panic that was making Papyrus’ bones rattle. “okay, Pap, i believe you, i know, everything’s okay.”

Lies, probably.

…But Sans almost never lied to him these days, not since before the famine.

He sounds…sincere.

And even if it is a lie, the ‘everything’s okay’ lie is one Papyrus really wants to believe right now.

“hey. can ya’ breathe with me for a sec, Pap?”

Oh god. The breathing exercises.

Papyrus supposes it’s just that kind of night.

“This Is Stupid,” he grumbles weakly. “This Is So Stupid, Sans, We Don’t Even Have Lungs!”

“yeah, i know, it’s dumb as hell. let’s try it anyway, huh?”

And so, reluctantly and cursing himself, Papyrus takes a deep breath and holds it, exhaling slowly when Sans does and starting it over again.

It must not have been as severe an attack as he thought because it only takes three long breaths before he can feel his soul steadying, his nerves quieting. He starts to feel less like a panicky mess of a skeleton and more like…himself.

Which is of course when the embarrassment rushes in.

Papyrus hates losing control like that. It’s probably his least favorite souvenir from the Underground and it always manages to rear its ugly head at the least opportune moments.

“……Thank You, Sans,” he says eventually, somewhat meekly.

He half-wants to apologize again that Sans had to see that, but he holds himself back. Sans never accepts those apologies anyway, shrugs them off and points out all the times Papyrus has done the same for him, and there’s no point rehashing that old chestnut.

Not when there are…much bigger fish to fry.

“forget about it.”

Papyrus sure would like to!

But he knows how very much ‘not over’ this conversation is, and sure enough, Sans keeps talking.

“just tryin’ to see if we’re on the same page here, don’t… don’t freak out again, but……that was about you wantin’ to smooch my human, yeah?”

Papyrus winces and can’t hold back the apology this time. “I’m…I’m Really, Truly Sorry, Sans,” he says desperately. “I Never Meant To… And Of Course, I Would Never Want To Come Between The Two Of You, You… You Make Each Other So Happy! And That Makes Me Happy, So…Please, Can We Just…Never Bring This Up Again?”

Sans frowns and Papyrus tries to talk faster.

“I’ll…! I’ll Get Better At Hiding It! You Were Never Supposed To Notice In The First Place, And—……”

A horrible thought occurs to Papyrus.

You and Sans talk about everything.

Everything.

“Oh Stars, Do… Do They Know, Too?”

Sans shrugs.

Of all the inane things to do!

“yeah?” he admits, almost like it’s a question. “i mean…we talked about it, so…yeah.”

Wonderful!

Papyrus bites back a moan of humiliated despair, forcing himself to smile instead.

“Of Course They Do!” he chirps. “I’ll Have To Move Cross-Country To Escape The Shame Of This, That’s Cool!” He takes a step forward. “I Guess I’ll Go Start Packing My Things!”

Sans catches his arm before he can get any further.

“whoa, whoa, whoa,” he chuckles, “let’s…can we slow down a sec? you’re, like…pole-vaulting to conclusions here, Pap, can we…actually talk about it, or…?”

The suggestion soundly throws Papyrus off his footing.

“I’m…Not Sure What There Is To Talk About,” he admits. “I’m A Terrible Brother And I’ve Fallen For Your Datemate. Ugh, No,” he corrects, “Worse—Your Spouse.”

“and…what’s bad about that?”

………

Well, that just stuns Papyrus silent.

“they’re…cute an’ sweet an’ honestly, probably the best human i ever met,” Sans says. “i get the attraction.” He laughs a little. “trust me, Pap, i get it—i married ‘em, i’ll be the first to tell ya’ they’re the best. ain’t it kinda…natural? that you’d like ‘em, too?”

If Papyrus were wearing pearls, he feels like he’d be clutching them about now.

“‘Natural’?” he echoes.

Sans just smiles at him. “‘cause you’re the best, too, bro.”

“……Oh, Shut Up, Sans!” Papyrus snaps. “Now Is Not The Time To Say…Very Nice, Flattering Things About Me! I’m A Home-Wrecker, I’m Trying To Destroy Your Marriage!”

“…are you, though?”

Papyrus looks at Sans, uncertainly.

“‘cause…if you’re tryin’ to split us up, you’re doin’ a real terrible job of it,” Sans explains. “looks like you’re just sorta…quietly havin’ feelings over here an’ supporting our relationship instead of tryin’ to make ‘em ditch the zero and get with the hero.”

“……Don’t…Call Yourself A Zero, Sans. You May Not Be A Ten, But You’re At Least A Positive Integer.”

Sans’ expression turns smug, like Papyrus had just proved his point for him.

…He sort of had.

“yeah,” he says, “s’what i thought. so, first of all…relax? nobody’s mad at’cha, bro, this is…fine.”

Papyrus scoffs. “And how can this possibly be fine?!”

“maybe ‘cause…they like you, too?”

If Papyrus had eyes, he’d be rolling them.

“Of Course They Do,” he says. “Recent…Developments…Aside, I’m An Exemplary Brother-In-Law, Of Course They Like Me!”

But Sans shakes his head. “nah, bro, nah. they like-like you.”

And those are the simple, juvenile words that flip Papyrus’ world utterly upside down.

“No!” he exclaims when they finally register in his skull, shock and dismay on their heels. “That’s The Last Thing I…! They…! They’re With You, No, This Is Terrible! How Could They?! I Thought—…Sans! Why Are You Laughing?! This Is The Farthest Thing From Funny!”

Yet Sans chortles on, like the fact that the human he married is in like-like with another skeleton doesn’t bother him at all.

“no?” he giggles. “it ain’t? this is like…funny-adjacent, dude…”

…

Alright, well now Sans is just plain not making sense!

Papyrus’ indignant confusion must show on his face, because Sans reaches up, grasping at his brother’s shoulder.

“look, Papyrus…” he says. “i love ‘em. i do. they’re, like…literally half of my whole world these days, y’know?”

Papyrus squirms a little. “I…I Know, That’s Why—”

Sans cuts him off. “but the other half is you, bro.”

Papyrus’ jaw shuts with an audible click.

“i love you. i trust you. and hey, if you wanna smooch my human sometimes, too, that’s… it’s really not gonna bother me.”

Papyrus…can’t quite believe the words he’s hearing.

…But Sans still doesn’t look like he’s lying.

Which is only more confusing.

“I… Why Aren’t You… I Don’t Understand, Aren’t You…Mad? Or…Or Jealous? What If They…Wanted To Choose?”

Sans shakes his head and that’s not nearly enough of an answer, but he catches Papyrus’ gaze with his eye-light and holds it, looking deathly serious.

“Pap…we shared souls. i know how much they love me ‘cause i felt it, and that’s…”

He trails off briefly, a soft, private smile coming over his skull.

“it ain’t goin’ anywhere,” he finishes confidently. “whatever they’re feelin’ for you too…it’s with what they feel for me, not ‘instead of’.”

It sounds too good to be true, that there could really be a world where Papyrus could be this lucky.

And despite himself, he finds his curiosity is piquing.

“How…How Do You Know They Like Me?” he asks hesitantly, but the more he talks, the less he finds himself able to shut up. “How Does That Even Come Up? Did…Did They Say Something? What, Exactly, Was Said? Or Are You Only Inferring From… Little Hints Or Cues Or Something? I Feel Like There’s A Lot Of Things Here That I Should Know, Sans, Please Tell Me Something???”

Sans is grinning in that way he does when he’s trying not to laugh and Papyrus feels his magic rushing to his cheekbones.

That was…definitely too eager, wasn’t it?

This was still Sans’ spouse they were talking about and there was Papyrus, badgering his brother like a teenager who just heard a rumor that the most popular kid in school had a crush on him.

Ugh, thoughtless! Stupid!

As if he could somehow sense the negative thoughts, Sans squeezes Papyrus’ shoulder carefully, reassuring.

“i think,” he pointedly suggests, “that maybe this is a conversation you oughta be havin’ with them.”

He’s right.

Of course he is. Sans is the laziest person Papyrus has ever known, but he’s very rarely actually wrong.

But…

The thought of you—facing you, talking to you, teetering on the cusp of this strange and impossible possibility…

Papyrus is nervous.

“sorry, bro, no excuses,” Sans says, before Papyrus can even attempt to think of any. “i’ll finish up with dinner tonight. you two gotta talk—they’re waitin’ for ya’.”

Papyrus is gently yet firmly nudged toward the doorway, out of the kitchen. He turns to say something, but Sans already has his back to him, picking up the potatoes again, and Papyrus’ words die in his nonexistent throat.

Slowly, he…starts walking.

He passes Buddy, asleep on the couch in the living room, and allows himself a second of envy for the dog, utterly oblivious to the turmoils of higher life forms.

But only a second.

That’s all he can spare just now.

You’re waiting for him.

…You may have gotten more absorbed in the cute little cat game on your phone than you had intended.

You had meant to be sitting there, somber yet welcoming when Papyrus (hopefully) came up to see you, and you would gently pat the mattress in invitation. He would sit and you’d have a whole touching, idyllic heart-to-heart, it would be a thing of beauty…

But he and Sans were taking an awful long time down there and you’d started getting a little…bored.

So instead of that lovely scene, what happens instead is that Papyrus throws the bedroom door open and you jump, hastily dropping your phone and blurting, “Shit, hi, hey, Pap!”

You try to adopt a casual pose, but of course you have no idea how to force that so you probably look very awkward right now.

And then…your phone meows, so you have to scoop it up, shut it off, and shove it in your pocket as fast as humanly possible.

Damn, you’re smooth.

Surprisingly, though, Papyrus just…cracks a grin at you.

It looks fond, affectionate like many of the looks he’s been giving you lately when he thought you weren’t looking, and it makes you smile back at him.

When he says your name with the same feeling, on the heels of a simple hello, you feel…

Hopeful.

Confident.

If he’s here, he wants to talk about this and that, you’re ready for.

“So…you and Sans talked?”

“…Yes,” Papyrus says. “We…We Definitely Talked.”

When that’s all he says for a long, drawn-out moment, you prompt, “……And?”

Papyrus sighs, rubbing at the back of his skull. With obvious reluctance, he admits, “I’m Considerably Confused, Honestly!”

“What about?”

He just…gestures, vaguely, at everything. It’s as if the entire universe is a source of frustration to him at the moment and he finds its gall offensive.

You hold back a laugh and finally get to do your scripted mattress pat. Papyrus takes the invitation and sits down beside you, slumping onto the bed with a huff.

“I Don’t…I Don’t Understand This,” he says. “You… You Love Sans, Don’t You?”

Well, that’s an easy question.

“Of course I do,” you answer without hesitation. “I’m, like…super in love with Sans.”

“And You………Love Me, Too…?”

You snort in amusement. “Well, duh, Pap.”

Your tone seems to give him pause…and something like a revelation.

“Ah,” he says at length. “I Get It. It Isn’t… You…Love Me As A Friend. And A Brother-In-Law.”

Papyrus actually sounds disappointed and it bolsters you to take the next step.

“Stars, Papyrus, of course I love you as those things, but… I think we both know it’s not just that? With us?”

His silence is nothing less than utterly suspicious.

So you press on.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes, Pap.” He flinches guiltily and you’re quick to reassure him, “I like it! It makes me feel like… I don’t know, like there could…be something here, if you wanted to…explore that?”

Your words only seem to confuse him again. “So You Want To… What, Date Me?”

“Do we have to put a label on it?” you wonder. “I mean…you love me, right?”

Denim blue starts to glow all along Papyrus’ skull.

“I! Well, That’s! Something Of A Strong… Uh, Not That I Don’t! I… I’m… Obviously, I………”

His rushed and flustered words trail off and you let them.

That jumbled mess of a sentence may not have said anything, but at the same time, you’re…pretty sure it said everything.

You smile, just a pinch teasingly, and say, “And…you’d love me whether anything actually happened with us or not…right?”

On that one, Papyrus doesn’t waver for even second.

“Yes,” he says firmly. “Of Course.”

Your grin widens.

“I feel the same.”

Papyrus looks at you like… well, like he isn’t sure he believes you, like it can’t possibly be that simple…

But it is.

“Papyrus, aside from Sans,” you explain, “you’re my absolute best friend. We have fun together and…and I really care about you and honestly, the last time I felt like this about somebody, it was just a few weeks out from the first time I kissed my husbone.”

Papyrus makes a face at the terrible pun, just like you knew he would, and you laugh.

The slightly-betrayed disgust on his skull is a much better look for him than anxious uncertainty.

“Pap,” you say seriously, “it is…totally okay if this is too weird for you and you’d feel better just forgetting about this whole thing. You’ll still be my friend and the best brother-in-law a human could ever have, that won’t change— ever.”

You reach out, settling your hand on the bed between you. You don’t touch him, not yet, but you feel like he should see you offering; putting yourself out there first.

“But…if you want to give this a try… maybe turn our dog-dates into…y’know, actual dates, see if romance is a thing that works, for us… Then, I’m here.”

You’re not psychic.

You have no idea what must be going through Papyrus’ skull right now as he stares down at you, looking stunned.

But if you could read minds, you might be knocked flat by the force of his awe.

Papyrus is marveling at you, honestly dumbstruck.

He thinks that the human heart is truly an incredible thing— it’s a small muscle, weighing less than a pound, and yet it pumps two thousand gallons of blood a day, beats seven-hundred thousand times a week, and in just a few short years…

It can come to hold enough love for two skeletons who’ve been through hell and come out the other side.

But you’re not psychic.

So all you see is a kind of determination coming over Papyrus’ face and then he’s reaching out, ever so slowly settling his hand atop yours.

It’s huge, dwarfing your fingers entirely when your turn your hand over so you can properly hold it. His bones are spindly; smooth and cool to the touch, like pearl or marble.

You like the feeling against the skin of your palm so you squeeze his hand, chancing a look up at him.

Papyrus still looks a touch nervous, as if he’s not sure that this is something he’s really, truly allowed to do.

You can fix that.

With your other hand, you reach up, fingertips grazing the side of his jaw.

“Papy…can I kiss you? Would that be okay?”

The blue returns to his cheeks and he swallows audibly. You’re still not sure how that works without a throat, but you’re pretty used to physics-and-reality-defying skeletons by now, so when he nods, you don’t ask any more questions.

You pull him down at the same time you lean up and gently, carefully press your lips to his teeth.

He’s…still, at first, stiff against you in probably the most one-sided kiss you’ve ever been a part of…but it doesn’t last.

After a moment, Papyrus nuzzles at you, just a little bit, and you find yourself smiling against his mouth.

You angle your head and keep peppering itty-bitty smooches along his teeth and jaw and the more you give him, the more his hesitance starts fade.

Boldness suits Papyrus far better.

He squeezes your hand in his while the other comes up to wrap around your shoulder, holding you still so he can nuzzle you more firmly.

Not that you were going anywhere—you can feel the passion behind each warm, affectionate movement and it sparks a thrill in your chest.

It’s… it’s good and nice and as much as you like it, you can’t quite believe it’s happening.

…And neither can Papyrus, apparently, because he abruptly jerks back from you.

His eye-sockets are wide behind his glasses and the two of you stare at each other for a moment, just…processing.

That happened.

You kissed.

The world is still in one piece and you…

You don’t regret it.

You don’t think Papyrus does, either, but you get the sense that it was just a bit too fast, for right now; that he might still need a little time to get used to the idea of…this.

And that’s fine, too.

You smile with just a hint of flirtiness. “Not bad for your first kiss, huh?”

His brother may be the comedian, but you know damn well that Papyrus knows a set-up for a line when he hears one and he doesn’t disappoint.

He smirks at you and says, “What On Earth Makes You Think That Was My First Kiss?”

It’s suave and over-the-top and probably a lot bolder than Papyrus actually feels right now, but it makes you laugh, anyway.

You have no idea, but the sound makes Papyrus’ soul sing and he understands now, intimately, how Sans must’ve fallen in love with you.

You make everything seem so easy.

You keep it easy, too, when the very next thing you do is get up and tug Papyrus along with you by the hand.

You tell him that it smells like dinner’s about ready and that the two of you should probably go check on Sans and see if he needs any help setting the table.

Papyrus recognizes it for exactly what it is—sort of an out, but without denying the thing that the two of you just started, and he’s grateful for it.

It’s funny, in a way, but Papyrus never really understood the concept of ‘going slow’ before, at anything.

Why wait when you know what you want to do? Why drag your feet when you know your feelings? What point is there in hesitating?

But this…this just feels like the kind of thing where slow is… good.

And for once, Papyrus feels like he’s okay with that.

Sans doesn’t seem to need any help when the two of you reach the dining room, three plates already out and Buddy’s bowl in hand to join them.

It’s a struggle for Papyrus not to pull his hand out of yours when Sans looks up, as if you were doing something you weren’t supposed to.

But when his brother’s eye-light falls on your joined hands, the expression that comes across his face is a smile.

There’s no other way to describe it except ‘beaming.’

Echoing you, Sans asks, “you talked?”

From Papyrus’ side, you chime, “Yep! All good,” and somehow, Sans manages to look happier.

You only let go of Papyrus’ hand to go over and give Sans an adorably saccharine kiss and as the three of you (and your dog) sit down together for dinner, Papyrus is struck by how utterly…normal it all is.

The casserole is normal, the same thing they have every Thursday night. Buddy finishes his kibble much faster than everyone else eats and passes the time staring beseechingly at all the other plates, like he always does. You and Sans are even telling terrible, lazy, cliché jokes trying to make Papyrus either laugh or scowl, whichever comes first, and that’s par for the course.

And Papyrus is sparing glances at you, thinking about how wonderful you are…and that’s…normal, too.

It’s normal and it’s okay.

“…Papyrus?” you seem to say suddenly, looking a tad concerned. “You really don’t have anything to say about that?”

You must’ve said a particularly horrific pun that Papyrus hadn’t heard.

Feeling bold, though, he shrugs. “I’m Sorry, Sunshine, I Wasn’t Listening, I Was Too Busy Getting Lost In Your Eyes.”

Your brows shoot up, color creeping across your cheeks as your gorgeous eyes go wide. You can’t seem to think of anything to say in response, too flustered for a witty retort and Papyrus feels his soul swell with pride.

He’s even prouder when Sans laughs, loud and genuine, and pokes at you a little.

“Pap’s right, ya’ know,” he coos at you. “eye really see what he means.”

“If You’re Going To Turn My Flirtatious Comments Into Puns,” Papyrus retorts, “You Could At Least Be A Little More Creative About It! I Swear, Sans, Your Jokes Are Getting Cornea By The Day!”

Your mouth drops open in surprise that Papyrus actually busted out a pun, but there’s a happy sparkle in your gaze and not even Sans’ imminent, lazy pun-recycling can ruin that for him.

“…heheheheheh, oh my god… oh my god, i’m so proud right now, Pap, you’re…you’re really a man after eye own heart…!”

Papyrus gives you and Sans his most put upon expression. “Irisk My Dignity Any Day To Make Our Human Smile, Sans! I Shouldn’t Have To Tell You How Blindingly Beautiful They Are When They Do.”

Sans’ grin widens.

“nah, that goes without sayin’,” he says and your flush deepens.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, sounding almost dismayed. “Is this my life now? Are you guys just gonna flirt at me for the rest of forever and try to make me blush?”

Papyrus and Sans share a considering look across the table, and their answer comes in unison.

“yeah, pretty much.”

“Probably, Yes!”

You cover your face a bit, but you’re laughing as you dramatically groan, “What have I done…” and Papyrus feels…

Pretty damn good!

Janine is going to be insufferably smug next week, but he’s really not the worst brother in the world, after all.

Papyrus is just a normal skeleton with a great job, a handsome dog, a lazy brother, and an adorable human—and he loves it all.

Optionally canon postscript to Fur a Good Time, Call…

A/N: Maybe Sans is your one and only true love and that's fine but for all the Papyrus-smoochers out there disappointed that they didn't get to romance both brothers... Now, you do! ;3

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#snipsnsnails #undertale #fanfiction #sans #papyrus #horrortale #ht!sans #ht!papyrus #sans/reader #papyrus/reader #myfic

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