#happens. and it does it on maybe half of the songs ohh i was so mad. i tweeted it and a guy said he had the same problem!!!! so i emailed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaos-burst · 3 years

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one way or another (i’m gonna get you)

Dorian has a problem.

That problem is currently drunk off his ass and trying to balance one of Opal’s daggers on the tip of his nose. Of course he’s failing miserably, hitting himself in the eye with the blunt end twice thus far and maybe Dorian shouldn’t chuckle about it, but Dariax just keeps trying as Opal and Fearne edge him on.

“If you’re not careful you’ll stab your own eye out”, Orym says. He’s still nursing the same beer he started drinking an hour ago, probably to stay sober enough to stop any shenanigans that go too far.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, buddy. That already happened to me, like, three times, and I just healed it back together. No big deal.”

Dorian can see that Orym is at a loss for words.

“Dorian, do you think I can do it?”, Dariax calls over to him where he’s sitting, holding his lute and enjoying the warm evening breeze.

“Sure, Dariax. I’ll write a song about you if you do”, he says with an amused smile. Dorian tries to keep his smile from widening as Dariax beams at him and tries even harder.

All his life Dorian has been taught to be proper and well behaved—maybe that is why he feels drawn towards—well. Towards the group. The group that Dariax is also a part of and that Dorian definitely doesn’t feel drawn towards more than any of the others.

He starts moving his fingers mindlessly over the strings of his lute as Dariax stumbles backwards, falls over Opal’s outstretched legs and lands in her lap with the dagger clattering to the ground in front of them.

Dorian thinks about Dariax sitting on his lap, then he almost chokes on his own spit because so far Dariax hasn’t done anything even remotely appealing or attractive. He’s had shit on his beard, piss on his hands, he’s dirty and loud and so obnoxious.

But when he told Dorian that he’s the handsome one and that he’s just good at talking to people and whether Dorian wants some tips from him—Dorian was tempted. For a split second, he was thinking about Dariax offering to teach him how to flirt.

Because Dorian might be aware that he’s handsome, but he has exactly zero idea about how to flirt with people.

“Hey, Dorian! Do I still get a song?”, Dariax shouts, still half sitting in Opal’s lap.

“Sure, buddy. I’ll write you a song.”

“Cool! It’s a promise!”, Dariax says, thumbs up, a big grin on his handsome face.

There, Dorian can admit it.

Dariax is handsome. They’re all handsome. It’s really no big deal. Not at all.

Dorian tries not to think about what his parents would say about Dariax, because it’s completely irrelevant. It’s not like his parents will meet his friends, and especially not Dariax. Maybe he should go to bed and hope that come the next morning his circling thoughts will have stopped.

“Are you working on the song?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head, only to come face to face with Dariax who managed to get up from Opal’s lap and is now sitting right next to him, leaning way into Dorian’s personal space.

Dariax smells like ten different kinds of alcohol, leather and thankfully no bodily fluids, which is definitely an improvement. Dorian wishes that the fact that he’s seen this man with shit on his beard would dissuade his heart from beating a little faster every time Dariax grins at him.

Sadly his heart doesn’t care.

Neither does his stomach, which is currently doing all kinds of complicated gymnastics since Dariax invaded Dorian’s personal space.

“No. I don’t think I can concentrate in here while all that is going on”, Dorian says and gestures towards Opal who is now teaching Fearne how to do body shots.

“Aw, man. Can you play something? Something...hm. Something cool.”

“All my songs are cool, thank you very much!”

Dariax laughs.

“Yeah, okay, you’re not wrong there. You have a really beautiful voice, buddy. No wonder that goliath lady fell in love with you after like, three minutes!”

Dorian feels something that reminds him a lot of the feeling he gets when he’s falling or misses a step on some stairs. His heart starts doing an offensive little tumble and he clears his throat a little too loud as he leans out of Dariax’ space and clutches his lute as if his life depends on it.

“I don’t think I would know what to do if someone actually fell in love with me”, Dorian says with an embarrassingly shrill laugh and a second after the words have left his mouth he regrets them already.

“Aw, buddy, I told you—I can totally teach you a few tricks, you know? Just show you how to get real popular with the ladies. Or gents. Or people in general”, Dariax says and winks at him.

Dorian wishes he could turn into thin air. His cheeks feel very hot.

“I—uh. I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s not like I really have the time—“

Dariax snorts and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, come on, Dorian. We’re just hanging out, right? If you wanna get laid, we have plenty of time for that. You should just relax a little more. Okay, so. What’s your type?”

Dorian stares at Dariax for almost thirty seconds before he clears his throat again.

“Uh. I—don’t. Well. Adventurous. Maybe—uh. Maybe brunettes?”

“Adventurous brunettes? That’s pretty vague, buddy. Just saying. Wait a second!”

Dariax leans closer again and puts his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Then he does a terrible shout-whisper into Dorian’s ear that shouldn’t give him goosebumps but, fuck, it definitely does.

“Are you into Orym?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head to stare at Dariax who looks as if he just found out an earth-shattering secret through some careful investigation.

“N—no! No, he’s not. I mean, Orym is—fine? I don’t, uh—what I meant to say is... I don’t really know what my type is”, he ends lamely.

Of course Dariax feels the need to put an arm around Dorian now.

“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll get you laid in no time. You have a pretty face and voice and all that, pretty sure that’ll go easy peasy.”

“That’s really not—“

“Hey guys, what are you whispering about?”, Opal shouts.

“We’re trying to figure out what Dorian’s type is to get him laid!”, Dariax shouts back.

“No, that’s not—“

“Ohh! Interesting! You don’t have a type? Did you never have a relationship before? Wait—are you like, a virgin?”

Dorian abruptly gets up from his chair. He’s definitely not drunk enough for this.

“I’m going to bed”, he says and leaves the room in a hurry, ignoring the disappointed shouts of his new friends following him outside.

Dorian hopes that his friends have forgotten the whole thing about supposedly getting him laid and about how Dariax intends to teach him flirting. But unfortunately the universe decides to not do him this favor.

Suddenly, every remotely attractive person they pass invokes a whole litany of questions.

Opal, Fearne and Dariax want to know everything. Which height, body-type, eye color, temperament, and style of clothing does he like? Does he prefer any genders to others? On six different occasions, Dariax tries to wingman Dorian into asking random strangers on dates.

Dorian is so desperate that he considers just telling them that he actually has someone back home, just so they will leave him alone.

It wouldn’t be the first lie he told.

Dorian feels a pang of guilt for lying about his name to these people who keep fighting alongside him.

Orym, bless his soul, is the only person who doesn’t partake in these interrogations and at some point, after Opal had asked Dorian if he was more into “tits or asses” Orym had quietly stated that “he deserves his privacy, you guys”.

Dorian has no idea if he’s a “tits or asses” kinda guy.

But Dorian just can’t stop thinking about the way Dariax’ voice sounded when it lilted “Man, you have the prettiest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen” the last time they were drunk.

It seems weirdly typical and ridiculous that Dorian has to have his first crush on the most chaotic man he ever met.

Dorian wishes he could forget about those damn words, just like everything that happened in their first week.

“You know”, Orym says to him two nights after that cursed conversation as they’re making their way further south towards Byroden, “if you told them to stop in earnest, I think they would respect that.”

The landscape is a carpet of green, sloping hills, rolling fields that lie bare now that winter is closing in around them. The sky is blue and cloudless and as they talk their breath puffs up in front of their faces and vanishes shortly after.

Dorian looks at Orym and then pointedly turns his gaze at Opal and Dariax, who started making a list of their findings regarding Dorian’s type.

“You sure?”, he says with one eyebrow raised.

Orym looks at least as pained as Dorian feels right now.

“I see your point. But they’re not—you know. Not bad people, I guess. I don’t think they want to hurt you.”

“Well, they’re not hurting me, they’re annoying me to death!”

Orym pats him on the back in a way that is so pitiful, Dorian can hardly take it.

“I wouldn’t usually encourage lying, but maybe you could just make up a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or—“

“What if I just tell them that you’re my type”, Dorian interrupts and Orym blinks at him.

“Uh—“

“No offense, you’re not. Not that you’re not handsome or anything, I just. Well—“

“It’s fine”, Orym says with a snort and shakes his head with a disbelieving smile. “You don’t have to fuss about it. You’re also very handsome but not my type.”

Dorian tries not to be offended after the last kick to his ego in Gilmore’s shop and clears his throat.

“Okay, so. What about it? Will you be my—I don’t know. My fake boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Orym, I’m desperate here!”

“I will not be swept up in all of that. I still think you should just try to talk to them.”

Dorian feels betrayed and huffs, but he doesn’t press the issue any further. It’s probably going to be fine, he thinks. That is, until Dariax walks up to him, grins up at him cheekily and bumps his elbow into Dorian’s side.

“So. Are you finally ready to admit it?”, Dariax asks.

There is a glint in his eyes that Dorian can’t quite read.

“Admit what?”, he asks, already dreading the answer.

“That you have the hots for Orym!”

Dorian stares down at Dariax, the man he, so, so very unfortunately has “the hots for” and sighs deeply.

“You caught me”, he says with a gravelly voice. “I have the hots for Orym.”

“I knew it!”, Dariax shouts, then catches himself and turns his voice into a whisper instead. “I fucking knew it!”

Dorian massages his temple.

Maybe becoming an adventurer was a terrible idea. Maybe he shouldn’t have come here. He could make a name for himself somewhere else. The Menagerie coast is supposed to be lovely all year around.

“Okay, don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha. I’ll keep your secret, won’t even tell the girls at all. And you know what, because we’re such great friends I have a special offer just for you”, Dariax says and leans in even closer to Dorian, who has to lean down significantly.

“And what offer is that?”, Dorian asks with a sigh, resigning himself to his fate. At least Orym knows that Dorian isn’t actually attracted to him, so, he thinks, this can’t possibly get any worse.

“I should totally be your fake boyfriend so you can make him jealous.”

Dorian stares at Dariax.

Dariax stares back with the proudest grin on his handsome face.

The universe is trying to punish him. For whatever reason, it must have decided to make Dorian the butt of a cosmic joke. That’s the only explanation for all of this.

“I don’t think that’s—“

“It’s perfect! Don’t worry, I have experience with this sort of stuff, just lemme handle this.”

Dariax winks at Dorian and then grabs his hand to intertwine their fingers.

“Hey guys”, he calls as he pulls Dorian along who follows helplessly, his heart stumbling in his chest as his consciousness zooms in on the feeling of Dariax’ hand in his, “guess what. I should’ve clocked it all along, but of course it makes perfect sense! Check it out!”

And as Orym, Opal and Fearne turn their heads, Dariax raises their intertwined fingers and beams at the others.

“Wait…”, Orym starts slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion, “what…?”

“Too late, Orym. He’s my boyfriend now”, Dariax says and Dorian wishes that the wind would just pick him up and carry him away.

Dorian has to say something.

He can’t, under any circumstances, keep this up.

He is sitting—and gods, his heart is beating so terribly fast—on Dariax’ lap.

Dariax had insisted on it and now his muscular arms are wound around Dorian’s waist as if this is the most normal thing in the world. For someone who doesn’t actually have to breathe to survive, Dorian feels a little bit like he’s suffocating from the staccato inside his rib cage.

They made camp close to a rock formation that, according to Fearne, looks like a pig with wings. The night smells of snow, but Dorian feels hot despite the cold.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He knows it even less when Dariax’ hand finds one of his and just casually starts rubbing circles into the back of his hand with a thumb. Dorian can feel Orym’s eyes on them and sadly that edges Dariax on even more because he thinks his plan is working.

“You know”, Dariax says and sounds way too casual about it, “I can’t believe how lucky I got. Pretty sure you’re the most beautiful person I’ve been with so far, Dorian.”

“I—uh”, Dorian says, then somehow forgets how to speak. His cheeks feel incredibly hot even though he doesn’t sit remotely close to the fire.

Orym cocks his head and suddenly his eyes turn a little too wide for Dorian’s tastes.

Dorian doesn’t want anyone to understand anything about this disaster.

“Well, I would certainly love a boyfriend who tells me nice things like that”, Opal sighs dreamily. “Or—you know. Maybe a girlfriend. Who knows. I certainly don’t.”

She laughs a little too shrilly but Dorian doesn’t have the mental capacity to think about it anymore because a tingling sensation is running through his body and crawling along the underside of his skin as Dariax’ fingers just keep on gently, way too gently, drawing nonsensical symbols and circles on Dorian’s hand.

“Well, I just know what’s good. I make a great boyfriend”, Dariax announces with a smug undertone to his voice. The sad thing is that Dorian can’t even disagree.

So far, Dariax has been nothing but—well. There is no other word for it. Gentle and accommodating. He also started flirting with Dorian and his flirting only ever got tasteless twice during the last twenty-four hours.

He has offered to carry stuff for Dorian, held his hand, given him way too many compliments for Dorian’s poor heart to handle, helped him climb over some rocks and purposefully took a hit for Dorian in combat earlier today while shouting “Not my boyfriend, you ash-hole!”.

If someone had told him that Dariax makes good boyfriend material, Dorian would have scoffed at them.

But now.

Well.

Now he’s in even deeper shit, because this doesn’t help his feelings at all. It does the exact opposite of helping.

Gods, Dorian wishes he could kiss him.

“Well, I am certainly—uh. Happy? For you two”, Orym says with a pointed look at Dorian. Dorian tries to tell Orym that this wasn’t his idea with his eyes alone, that this is the worst, that Dorian definitely needs saving, but he doesn’t think anything gets across because the moment that Orym says that and looks at Dorian, Dariax seems to decide that he can’t have Orym looking at Dorian like that.

Dorian makes an embarrassing screeching sound as he is dipped backwards on Dariax’ lap. There is a very handsome, dwarven face with glinting eyes right in front of his when he opens his eyes again.

“Just go along”, Dariax whispers and before Dorian can protest or even just try to catch up with what’s happening, there are dry, warm lips pressed against his mouth and Dariax is closing his eyes.

Dorian’s brain is blank for a few seconds, then it kicks into overdrive, much like his heart that seems eager to jump right out of his chest and into the campfire. Dorian can’t fault it, because he, too, would love to jump into the campfire, never to be seen again.

Dariax is holding him with one arm while his other hand is resting on Dorian’s cheeks where Dariax’ thumb starts rubbing circles again as he kisses Dorian.

Dorian wants to run away.

He wants to kiss back.

He wants this to be real.

Dariax doesn’t actually want to kiss him. He only does it because he’s pretending, there is nothing real about any of this, no matter how nice and exciting his warm lips feel against Dorian’s.

Dorian pushes him away, clambers up from his position, trying very hard not to fall as he stands up, and steps away from Dariax hastily.

“I—ah. I need to. Pee. Yes. Pee. I’ll be—uh. Later!”

And he walks as fast as he can without breaking into a run.

His lips are still burning after he stops walking without even seeing where he’s going. It’s dumb. All of this is so incredibly dumb.

Beautiful eyes, beautiful voice, beautiful person.

Dariax really has to stop saying these things.

It’s already enough that Dorian developed this stupid crush after such a short amount of time on the road. It’s stupid that it had to be Dariax of all people—couldn’t it have been someone reasonable? Like Orym?

Couldn’t it just have been no one? Or a nice, noble lady that he impressed with his songs and good looks?

No.

He’s standing in the middle of nowhere, his heart beating rapidly in his chest with no clue where he even is or what he’s doing. The trees around him are leafless and bare, stretching towards the dark sky like skeletal silhouettes. Dorian doesn't know what to do.

Dariax kissed him.

He had his first kiss with a complete and utter maniac of a person. His lips are still tingling and gods, he wants to kiss him again and again and again—

“Dorian! Doriaaan!”

Dorian turns around and wipes at his face that feels weirdly wet.

Gods, he hates everything and everyone right now.

Dariax comes to a halt in front of him, his breath coming quickly and holding his compass rose.

“Okay—wow. Your legs. Are so. Long. You’re so. Fucking fast”, Dariax huffs and puts his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

Dorian looks at him and can’t decide whether he wants to kick Dariax in the shin or just run away further.

“So, uh—sorry. I got a little carried away and I kinda—uh. It was brought to my attention that it wasn’t very cool of me to just kiss you without asking if that’s okay with you. So—uh. Really sorry about that, shoulda thought about that before I—uh. You know.”

Dariax scratches the back of his head as he looks down at Dorian’s left knee.

“It’s—well. Yeah, I suppose a little warning would have been nice. It’s—uh.”

Dorian stops and wipes at his face again and when he looks back up Dariax is studying him, his gaze intense and uncharacteristically serious.

“Wait—wait a second. Was that your first kiss?”

“No! I mean. Yes! Sort of! Maybe!”

Dariax gapes and Dorian wishes the earth could swallow him up whole.

“Oh fuck, buddy, man, that’s. I’m really sorry, I didn’t—damn. I really fucked that one up, huh?”

Dariax looks so earnestly mortified at what he’s done that Dorian can already feel how he’s forgiving him, how he finds it endearing, how his heart swells in his chest like the idiot that it is.

“It’s not such a big deal. Don’t worry about it. Just—uh. Maybe we should talk about all of this stuff before… you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally. I swear I’m usually not a creep or anything, it was just… you know. The heat of the moment, or something. So…”

Dariax is scratching the back of his head again and swallows before he shoots Dorian a lopsided grin.

“So. No kissing and stuff like that, huh? Just the hand-holding? Hey, maybe a hug or something?”

Dorian stares at him and he could swear that Dariax’ cheeks are a little redder than before, which, Dorian supposes, comes from his embarrassment about his earlier fuck-up.

As long as they’re doing this fake-boyfriend gig, Dorian could kiss Dariax whenever he wants. Because apparently Dariax doesn’t mind that one little bit. He might never get the chance again to kiss him if he says no now.

So Dorian does something incredibly stupid and impulsive and maybe it’s even a real ash-hole move. In this tiny moment in time he decides to be selfish.

“Kissing is fine. Uh—you know. You’re not that bad at it, I guess”, he says and laughs which sounds terribly false in his own ears but Dariax perks up and throws him a reckless grin that makes Dorian’s heart stumble in his chest.

“Ha! You just wait for it, I’ll kiss your brains out before you know it!”

Dorian might be addicted.

He knows that this is all a ruse based on a misunderstanding but gods, kissing Dariax is so good.

And Dariax somehow makes it seem as if he’s just as into it as Dorian is, because he keeps kissing him all the time. Of course, it never happens when they’re alone and only when Orym is in more or less close proximity but if Dorian isn’t careful he’ll start believing that they’re actually boyfriends sooner than later.

Dariax is so good at pretending.

He kisses Dorian as if he never wants to kiss anyone else. He holds Dorian’s face in his hands as if it’s something precious. He kisses Dorian breathless and at more than one point Dorian had to stop him because he was getting a little too into it and he’s afraid of overstepping any boundaries.

Dariax promised that he would kiss Dorian’s brains out and it’s absolutely working. On the seventh day on their journey south they get so caught up in making out that they don’t realize that the others have gone to find a camping place for the night.

“We should—uh. Probably follow them”, Dorian croaks and stares down at Dariax’ lips.

“Hmhm. Yeah. Probably a good idea”, Dariax mumbles. Then he kisses Dorian again.

Dorian gets lost in the sensation of tongues sliding against one another and the feeling of Dariax’ hand cupping his cheeks. Dorian slides his hands into Dariax’ hair and buries his fingers in there, something that provokes a sound from Dariax. A sound that gives Dorian goosebumps all over his arms.

He wants to hear it again. He wants to touch more. He wants, he wants, he wants—

Dariax pulls back, his eyes glassy, his breathing labored.

“I—uh. Ha. I got a little carried away. Sorry. What do you say about checking where the others went?”

“Sure. Yeah. Great idea. Let’s go.”

He steps away from Dariax and stuffs his hands into his pockets to keep Dariax from reaching for them. This is a complete and utter disaster.

Dorian knows that he should stop it.

He shouldn’t abuse Dariax’ trust like this and keep up his pretense when all that Dariax wants is to help Dorian make Orym jealous.

Which has, of course, not worked in the slightest, but Dariax insists that it’s just because Orym is such a rational and level-headed guy.

“We just need to wear him thin, you know.”

Dorian doesn’t know.

He feels like he doesn’t know anything anymore.

When they finally reach the campsite, Fearne has placed her head in Opal’s lap and seems to be napping as Opal carefully braids her long, green hair.

“You guys alright?”, Orym asks with his eyebrows raised. Dorian feels himself flush and clear his throat.

“More than alright”, Dariax answers and winks. The implication makes Dorian’s cheeks heat up even more.

He didn’t think that Orym’s eyebrows could climb even higher, but that’s exactly what happens as he regards the two of them.

“Dorian, can I talk to you for a second?”, Orym asks and gets up from the log he was sitting on. Dorian shoots Dariax a glance and he seems… off.

Dariax doesn’t return Dorian’s look, he just walks over to the fire, lets himself fall down next to Opal and asks, way too loudly to be necessary “So what’s for dinner?”.

But Dorian doesn’t have any time to think more about this, because Orym grabs his wrist and pulls him towards a group of trees, away from the campfire and away from Dariax whose eyes seem to bore themselves into the back of Dorian’s head as he follows Orym into the night.

“What are you doing?”

Dorian doesn’t have to ask what Orym means. He wrings his hands and stares at the ground.

“I—uh. I don’t really... I don’t really know?”

“So when you said adventurous and brunette, what you actually meant was short, stocky and a complete disaster?”

“I—um...”

Orym looks at him with raised eyebrows and despite the fact that Dorian is so much taller than him he suddenly feels very small.

“Well. Dariax kind of got it into his head that I’m into you. Which I’m not.”

“Yes, we established that.”

“Exactly. And. Well, he thought it would be a good idea to be fake boyfriends to make you jealous.”

Orym’s eyebrows rise even higher towards his hairline.

“But I’m not jealous. Because you and I are just friends.”

“I know, okay? It just kinda got out of hand?He’s so—I don’t know! I don’t know what to do!”

Orym sighs and rubs his temples.

“So. You’re actually into Dariax?”, he asks.

Dorian presses his lips together and takes a deep breath before he nods.

“And he doesn’t know. He thinks you’re into me?”

Dorian nods again.

“And now he’s waiting for me to get jealous and for us two to be boyfriends?”

Dorian shrugs helplessly.

“Isn’t that... I don’t know. It seems like lying to him.”

“What do you want me to do? Just tell him that I have the hots for him and then leave the country forever?”, Dorian hisses.

“Well, maybe he has the hots for you, too!”, Orym whispers back and Dorian can’t help but laugh. It sounds a little hysterical.

“Then why would he offer to help me to get with you?”

Orym stares at Dorian for a full thirty seconds. Then he sighs.

“I guess it’s a little hard to... fathom... what goes on in Dariax’ head.”

“That seems like an understatement.”

Orym scoffs and shakes his head with half a smile on his face.

“I can’t believe you actually fell for—that.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry. I guess to each their own.”

“So what’s your type then?”

“Uh—I don’t really have a type. I’m not into the whole relationship stuff. Or—uh. The sex stuff, for that matter.”

“Oh. Oh! I see. Well, that seems pretty convenient. Way less stressful than what I’m doing with my life.”

Orym smiles and shakes his head again.

“I’m not going to lie, when I’m watching you and Dariax or Opal and Fearne I am glad that I don’t have to deal with any of it”, Orym admits.

“Opal and Fearne? How do you mean?”, Dorian asks. His brain is still stuck on kissing Dariax without Orym even being in any close proximity. His whole brain capacity seems to be occupied by thinking about Dariax. It’s an absolute clusterfuck.

“Never mind. So, what do you intend to do? You can’t keep this up forever”, Orym says and pulls Dorian away from a trail of thoughts that was leading towards something explicit and utterly unbefitting of a talk with a good friend about feelings.

“I—uh. I’m still figuring it out. I’ll just. You know, I could just tell him that I’m not into you anymore and then he would probably stop”, Dorian says and ignores the uncomfortable tightness of his chest as he thinks about not being able to kiss Dariax anymore. Or hold his hand. Or being told that he’s beautiful.

He’s so fucked.

“I think you should just tell him, you know? We’re adventurers now, no one knows what might happen. If I learned anything from our Voice of the Tempest, it’s that you should do your best to live without any regrets, because time is a precious thing”, Orym says.

“A weird soup”, Dorian answers, his voice weak and his heart hurting. Orym snorts.

“Yes, sure. A weird, precious soup. Anyway. Think about it, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Something is up with Dariax.

Dorian has no idea what it is, but there is definitely something wrong.

He’s quieter than usual, which is disconcerting. He’s also, very definitely, holding onto Dorian’s hand way tighter than before.

“Hey, is everything alright?”, Dorian asks him quietly as they’re getting ready for the night. The sky overhead is dark and full of clouds and the moon is barely visible.

“Yeah, sure. Stellar”, Dariax says but he’s not looking at Dorian.

“You don’t look stellar”, Dorian insists and puts his hand on Dariax’ shoulder. Dariax’ eyes flicker down to his hand and then up to his face. Dariax opens his mouth to answer, but Dorian doesn’t hear anything because there is a searing pain on his back and he slumps forward and crumples onto his knees.

His vision goes blurry from the pain and he can feel that there is something coursing through his body. It hurts.

“Dorian? Dorian!”

Lying down seems like a great idea. What if he dies now and he didn’t even tell Dariax that he’s not into Orym? What if his adventure ends here already? He doesn’t want to sink into the weird soup that is time already. He wants…

“Take your hands off my boyfriend, you fuckers!”

“Hey! What’s going on?”

“Dorian, are you okay?”

He is definitely not okay and while he probably should have different priorities as he’s bleeding out in the grass, all he can think about is the fact that Dariax just called him his boyfriend.

“Dorian, are you okay?”, Dariax’ voice sounds muffled and far away.

“Heh. You’re really good at pretending”, he lulls as he’s turned onto his back to look up at Dariax’ face.

“What? Guys, I think he has a concussion or something!”

“Well, heal him!”

“I’m trying! Dorian, hey! Buddy, don’t pass out on me, okay?”

“Did you know that your eyes are really pretty?”, Dorian slurs and he wants to raise a hand to touch Dariax’ face that seems way too red all of a sudden, but he can’t move a muscle and as he feels Dariax’ warm healing magic flow into him, he passes out from the mind-numbing pain.

Dorian has never shared a bed with anyone. Neither in a platonic nor in a romantic or sexual way.

When he wakes up there is someone plastered to his side. The quiet snoring tells him that it must be Dariax.

“Are you okay, Dorian?”, Fearne’s soft voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to see her sit on his other side, her hand places closed to his shoulder as if to make sure that he’s within reach.

“Uh—ow. Yeah. What happened?”

Dorian tries to concentrate on his own body and on Fearne’s words, but he’s distracted by the feeling of Dariax sleeping so close to him. His arm is thrown over Dorian’s chest and his face is pressed into Dorian’s shoulder. Orym is nowhere to be seen.

“Those Nameless Ones seem to have a pretty far reach. They really want that spider crown.”

Dorian groans as he tries to move.

“They hit me with poison or something?”

“Yeah. Dariax fixed it. Then he insisted on carrying you back to the cart. Then he insisted to tuck you into bed. And then he just sort of flopped down next to you and stared at you really intensely until he passed out.”

Dorian tries to laugh but almost chokes on it as he imagines this short man trying to carry someone as tall as Dorian. His thoughts circle around the fact that Dariax cared for him, healed him, tucked him into bed.

“So. Ah—where are Orym and Opal?”, he asks to distract himself from the feeling of having Dariax pressed so close to him.

“They’re checking to see if we’ll be safe for the night. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Fearne smiles down at him and starts scratching Little Mister under the chin as she hums a melody that Dorian’s never heard before.

“Did you ever have a really dumb crush?”, he asks before he can stop himself. Fearne turns her head to look at him again and cocks her head.

“A crush that was dumb because it wasn’t mutual or a crush that was dumb because the person was dumb?”, she wants to know.

“Ah. Huh—I haven’t thought about it that way. I guess… how about we go with both?”

Fearne puts her index fingers to her lips and cocks her head from side to side as she thinks about it.

“Well, I don’t think crushes are dumb just because they aren’t mutual. And I also think that Opal is very intelligent in her own, special way.”

Dorian blinks.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“You have a crush on Opal?”

“Sure. I thought it was pretty obvious”, Fearne says and smiles dreamily.

“Uh—maybe. Now that you mention it, I think Orym clocked it.”

“She is just. You know. Very exciting and spontaneous and funny and creative and pretty.”

The way that Fearne just talks about her crush makes Dorian wonder why he isn’t able to just say it like this. That he likes Dariax because he’s funny and brave and adventurous and a complete idiot in a lovable kind of way.

“What do you like about Dariax?”, Fearne wants to know.

“Uh—well”, he laughs nervously and clears his throat. Dariax is still softly snoring into his shoulder. “I guess… I guess pretty much everything?”

“That’s so sweet! And that’s what he said too. You guys just fit so well”, Fearne says with an earnest smile.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“What did you just say?”

“I said that you guys fit really well.”

“No. No, I meant before that.”

“Uh—well, when I asked him what he liked most about you, he also said that he likes everything about you. I thought it was really sweet, you know? There was a whole list of things, but he stopped midway through it and said ‘So basically, everything’.”

There was a whole list of things.

A list.

“So basically, everything.”

“Dorian? Are you really okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Hm? Oh—yeah. I’m fine. Perfect. Peachy. Never better.”

He laughs nervously and glances over at Dariax as his insides dissolve into small, hyperactive butterflies. Maybe it’s not what he thinks. Maybe Dariax meant that he likes everything about Dorian as a friend.

“If you’re sure you’re okay I think I’ll stretch my legs a little bit. This cart is pretty small”, Fearne says and scoots towards the exit of the cart. Little Mister follows behind her and a moment later Dorian is alone with a snoring Dariax, whose hand has somehow managed to sneak under Dorian’s shirt.

What is he supposed to do now?

Wake Dariax up? Confess his feelings?

His heart beats so quickly that Dorian is almost afraid that it might just leap out of his rib cage. In the end he’s not brave enough to wake Dariax up and instead intertwines their fingers and turns his head to look at Dariax who has definitely drooled onto his shirt.

He knows that he’s completely fucked because he thinks that this is endearing.

Dorian raises his arm and gently cards his hand through Dariax’ hair.

Dariax makes a small sound in his sleep, something that sounds like a content sigh, and the butterflies in Dorian’s stomach start dancing happily.

“D’you really think my eyes are pretty?”, Dariax mumbles a second later and Dorian pulls his hand away hastily as Dariax’ eyes open.

“Um—well. Yeah. They’re… they have a very nice color”, Dorian croaks. Dariax pulls his hand out from under Dorian’s shirt and starts rubbing at his eyes.

“You okay again?”

“Yeah. Thank you for saving me. And carrying me to the cart. And—uh. Tucking me in.”

Dariax’ cheeks redden as he coughs slightly before sitting up.

“Well, you know. It’s what boyfriends are for, right?”, Dariax says with half a laugh in his voice that doesn’t sound completely genuine.

Dorian swallows and bites his bottom lip as he tries to find the words. He’s usually not bad at talking, so why does this seem so endlessly hard?

“So—uh. I have something to confess”, he starts as his thoughts start spinning around in panicked circles. Dariax turns his head to look down at him.

“I know, I know”, he answers.

“Huh?”

“Well, I figured, you know. When Orym dragged you away I thought you guys probably had a talk?”

“We did, yeah”, Dorian says but he is endlessly confused about what that has to do with anything.

“See, I knew it. So you think it finally started working, huh? Told you, I’m really good at this kind of stuff.”

Dorian decides that he has to sit up for this. His head is spinning and his heart is racing and he is endlessly confused about what in the ever-loving hell is going on.

“Working? What are you talking about?”

“You know, the jealousy thing.”

Dorian stares at him.

Then it finally clicks.

“Dariax… I don’t want to be fake boyfriends anymore”, he says quietly before he can think of a better way to say it. Dariax’ expression twists and he looks away, his hand reaching for the back of his head to scratch at his scalp—a sign for nervousness, as Dorian knows by now.

“Yeah. Okay. I—uh. That’s—“

“I want to be your real boyfriend.”

Dariax blinks a few times. Then his face turns the deepest shade of red that Dorian has ever seen on him.

“You—what?”

“I don’t like Orym. I never have. Not like that. I—uh. I like you. And when—if—I kiss you again I don’t want it to be just pretend, I want to really kiss you. Because I—uh. I really like kissing you.”

Dariax is still staring at him, seemingly stunned. The hand at the back of his head has stopped moving and started to sink slowly back into Dariax’ lap.

“So…”, Dorian says and the nervous energy humming under his skin is almost unbearable, “can I? Can I… kiss you? For real?”

If Dariax doesn’t say anything soon Dorian might have to flee from the cart and actually leave the country. The suspense is torturous, his words hang heavy in the air between them. And then, faster than Dorian can react, Dariax lounges himself at Dorian and kisses him so passionately that Dorian can’t suppress the moan that escapes him.

Dariax pushes at him, shoves Dorian back down onto the bedroll, sinks one hand into Dorian’s long hair and cups his face with the other.

Dorian’s brain goes blank as he arches up against Dariax’ weight on top of him.

“So, is that a yes?”, he pants into the kiss.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes”, Dariax rasps and kisses him again. “Gods, you’re so pretty. I thought I was going to go insane.”

Dorian makes a very embarrassing noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Maybe he likes those compliments more than a normal person would.

“So you like me?”

“Are you kidding me? So fucking much.”

Dariax is kissing his whole face now and Dorian wraps his arms around him. He feels light as a feather and the butterflies in his stomach have gone completely off the rails.

“Are you guys decent?”, Opal shouts from outside the cart.

“No! Go away! I want to make out with my boyfriend!”, Dariax shouts back and Dorian laughs.

“Don’t leave any icky spots though!”, Opal says.

“Oh, come on”, Dorian hears Orym protest.

“That’s what Prestidigitation is for, Opal! Read a book about magic!”, Dariax announces loudly and Dorian has no time to protest this obscene exchange because Dariax is kissing him again and Orym seems to be dragging Opal away from the cart.

“So do you know what that means?”, Dorian mumbles against Dariax’ lips.

“Hm?”

“I don’t need any flirting lessons from you after all.”

#critfic #exandria unlimited #exu #exu fic #dorian storm #dariax zaveon #fanfiction #mi writes #critical role #doriax #text #screeching into the void #this is 7k words of chaotic fake dating ooops

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vldkeith · 4 years

Note

all this anon hate ur getting is making me sad :(( so i'm here to say ur new blog is very cool and give me more young keith hc's pls <3

👀👀 thank u!! i decided maybe my theme should reflect my new url a bit more lol fjgkfhdgks here are some young keith hcs ❤️

little keith, same as older keith, has a tendency to look at rules, go “that’s stupid”, and immediately break them.

the rule he hates MOST is that hes not allowed to leave his desk at school even if he’s done w something. he literally does not get it and he thinks it’s bullshit so any time he finishes smth early he will simply get up and leave

the teachers always rush after him and theyre like “keith. we talked about this.” and keith is like well i was gonna come back sooo.....

texas kogane is Very Used to getting calls from the school re his troublesome son’s troublesome activities

school: hey. it’s us again.

texas: hi. what happened?

school: well he beat someone up again...

texas: cool, cool, i see. okay. so what did that person do?

school:

school: they called him gay

texas: ohh okay! so you’re calling to tell me that that kid is getting punished and keith gets a reward for standing up for himself, right?

school: not exac--

texas: *hangs up*

he likes to collect things!! nothing of significance tho, just little objects he finds many of :)

his biggest collection consists of cicada husks! he was so amazed when he saw the first one just sitting on a tree, and after his dad explained that it was just the shedded remains of a still-alive cicada, he started picking them up wherever he saw them. they make a small army on one of his shelves now

he gets into emo music at 13, just before shiro finds him, and that phase lasts until he’s at least 15

keith: *scream-crying to fake your death mcr when he thinks shiro isnt home*

shiro: *comes home early*

shiro:

shiro: hey, kiddo! what’s, ah...what’s up!

keith, shutting his mouth instantly and schooling his face into a deadpan expression: nothing. im doing nothing. go away.

shiro: ha ha...you sure?

keith, looking shiro dead in the eyes, aware that there are still tear streaks on his cheek: im sure.

shiro:

shiro: okay! well we’re having tacos for dinner tonight

shiro, later that night at dinner after looking up the song keith had been singing: so! adam. do you ever feel like....choosing defeat? just, you know, walking away? there’s so much pain in the world...are you looking at it? i feel that way sometimes. i think it’s important that we feel like we are able to discuss these feelings openly and without shame--

adam, as keith is banging his head on the table: jesus christ takashi

kid keith, despite being p good athletically, would NEVER participate in gym activities. he just flat out refused. eventually his teachers got so tired of dealing with him that they just told him to go run laps whenever team activities arose and he’d do it, gladly

all the students are like “wow he’s so gifted he gets to be on a separate training program from the rest of us...so cool....” meanwhile the teachers are just relieved that they don’t have to deal with his complaining for at least another half hour sfkdghfdgkfds

he always stole from the scholastic book fair bc he wanted the cool things and didn’t think it was fair that elementary school kids had to Pay for their own enjoyment, especially if it was being shoved in their faces...anti capitalist king <3

keith doesnt hate his childhood, not really. when his dad was around it was always fun, and he didn’t have that many years when he was alone before shiro, so there was plenty of space for fun :’)

#PHEW long post sorryyy #anyway i love u ayesha thank u!!#keith kogane #voltron #thewhitelion #asks🌟#hcs

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impala666 · 4 years

Text

The One With The Stoned Guy Part Two (Amuse Bouche)

Sorry it took so long! But here is the next part to the Friends Rewrite. I’m just kind of writing when I find time. Enjoy all!!!!!!

Last Part (Part One), Series Masterlist

It was the next morning and the night before was the first night where you actually slept at Bryan’s apartment, you didn’t even go to yours and Ross’s apartment. But no you found yourself walking toward Monica and Rachel’s apartment for early breakfast before everyone went off to work or in your case school and the work. “Good morning,” you cheered with a smile. Everyone in the living room bid you a good morning in return while Joey sat there and stared at you with that same sad dog expression. So Ross must have told him that you never went home. “So, I heard you didn’t make it home last night.” Rachel confirmed your suspicions, but apparently Ross just decided to up and tell everybody.

“Yeah, last night was my first night actually staying there,” you smiled brightly at her when you thought about all of the adventures that you had with Bryan.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Rachel asked as she scrunched up her face and came closer to you to make your conversation a bit more private. You were about to answer her when all of a sudden the apartment door slammed from behind you.

“Can you see my nipples through this shirt?” Your big brother asked after he entered. He made sure to lift up his suit jacket so that all of you could have a good look.

“No,” Rachel answered for him as she carefully looked. “But don’t worry I’m sure they’re still there.” You laughed at her harmless joke.

“Where’re you going Mr. Suity-Man?” Phoebe asked him from her spot in the living room next to Ross.

“Well,” Chandler reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. “I have an appointment to see Dr. Robert Pillman, career counselor a-go-go.” You listened to him as you took a seat on the couch, but realized that you sat too close to Joey like you used to. So you had to awkwardly slide in the opposite direction no matter if it made you a little upset and Joey very. “I added the a-go-go.” Chandler emphasized as all of them ignored the thing that just happened.

“A career counselor?” Rachel asked him, wondering why he was going to see this guy.

“Hey, you guys all know what you want to do.” Chandler whined to you all as he started to get defensive.

“I don’t,” Rachel chimed in.

“Hey, you guys in the living room all know what you want to do. You have goals, you have dreams. I don’t have a dream!” Chandler declared. But no matter how serious he tried to come across as, you all still found it a little funny.

“Ah, the lesser-known “I don’t have a dream,” speech.” Ross called Chandler out on his mistake.

“Y/N/N?” Chandler asked and placed his hand on your shoulder so that you would turn in your seat and look at him. “How did you know you wanted to go to Esthetician school?” He only asked because you had taken such a big leap to follow your dreams even if it made a few other people unhappy.

“I don’t know really. I just never really enjoyed or got into anything that I was learning while I went to college. But I always enjoyed skin and skincare and makeup, so once I actually found a career in it. I just decided to go for it.” You explained. “And even though it was terrifying at first, I know that it was the perfect decision.” Chandler couldn’t find words, he was just so proud and jealous of you. He just wished that he could find something that he was just as passionate about.

“Oh, I love my life! I love my life!” Monica cheered as she had just gotten back from an interview with that restaurant guy. She was beaming from ear to ear and it looked like it hurt.

“Oh, Brian’s Song.” Phoebe guessed, thinking that Monica was quoting a song.

“The meeting with that guy went great?” Rachel asked her after Phoebe’s strange outburst.

“It was so great. He showed me where the restaurant’s going to be. It’s this cute little place on 10th Street; it’s not too big, it’s not too small. It’s just right.” Monica beamed as she shared her experience for her new job opportunity.

“Was it formerly owned by by a blonde woman and some bears?” Chandler joked, when Monica accidentally quoted the famous nursery rhyme.

“So, anyway I’m cooking dinner for him Monday night. You know, kind of like an audition.” Monica continued as she just ignored everything that Chandler just said. “And Phoebe he really wants you to be there,” she explained as she made her way over to the woman in the living room. “Which would be great for me because then you can make oh’s and ah’s and you can make yummy noises.”

“What’re you going to make?�� Rachel asked Monica.

“Yummy noises,” Phoebe answered instead, acting like it was obvious.

“And Monica, what are you gonna make?” You asked, changing the question to one that everyone could understand.

“I don’t know. It’s just got to be so great.” Monica answered you as she walked over to her shelf of cookbooks to try and come up with some ideas.

“Oh! I know what you should make.” Phoebe announced as she ran over to join Monica and Rachel in the kitchen. Almost knocking you down in the process as you made your way over to them, as well. “You should make that thing with the stuff.” Phoebe said as she sprinkled imaginary spices into her hand. “You know that...thing.” She just couldn’t think of it. But Phoebe could tell she wasn’t getting through to any of you. “Okay, I don’t know.” She finally gave up.

“Hey, guys. Does anyone know a good date place in the neighborhood?” Ross asked, changing the subject.

“Uh, how about Tony’s?” Joey suggested, and seeing as you used to date him you could see where this was going. “If you can finish a 32 ounce steak, it’s free.” Ross looked up at you for confirmation to see if he ever took you there.

“Yeah, no. That was the date from hell.” You felt bad for saying so, but it was true.

“You said you loved it!” Joey whined.

“Yeah, but we couldn’t finish because no human can, so you got upset and left, sticking me with the cheque.” He treated you like a queen, but you had to call a spade a spade. That date stunk.

“Okay, does anyone know a good place if you’re not dating a puma?” Ross asked again as he joked at Joey’s answer.

“Who are you going out with?” Chandler asked him with a chuckle.

“Oh! Is this the bug lady?” Phoebe asked Ross.

“I love you, Ross.” Rachel joked as she started buzzing like a bug and using her fingers as antennas.

“Her name is Celia. She’s not a bug lady. She’s curator of insects at the museum.” Ross defended.

“So a bug lady?” You asked since Ross was trying to be technical, but he knew that you were messing around.

“So, what’re you guys gonna do?” Monica asked as she flipped through a cookbook at the table.

“I just thought we’d go out to dinner and then bring her back to my place and I’d introduce her to my monkey.” Ross sounded like he was 100% joking but when you looked at him his face was serious.

“And he’s not speaking metaphorically.” Chandler mumbled to himself.

“So, back to your place. You’re thinking maybe, heh-heh?” Joey asked Ross as he implied sex.

“Well, I don’t know heh-heh.” Ross said under his breath to Joey. “I’m hoping heh-heh. So Y/N can you steer clear of the apartment tonight.” You nodded even though you had nowhere to go since Monica had her dinner tonight and you and Joey were broken up. You would have to just go back to Bryan’s, oh well. Too bad.

“I’m telling you-that monkey is a chick magnet. She’s going to take one look at his furry cute little face and it’ll seal the deal.” Joey promised him.

*******

It was later in the evening, all of you were back at Monica and Rachel’s while Monica tried out some new recipes to have all of you try. Joey, Phoebe, and Rachel sat at the kitchen table. While you and Bryan sat alone in the living room. You really were surprised at how well everyone was getting along with Bryan, including Joey. They weren’t really best friends because clearly Joey still harbored some feelings, but they were able to be in a room together. That was all you could ask for. The both of you sat on the couch talking with Bryan’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. Bryan was about to continue the fire story that he had been meaning to tell you, but he jumped out of his seat when the apartment door slammed shut from an aggressive force. “Oh, my God. What happened to you?” Rachel asked, you kneeled on the sofa to turn and look who had entered. It was Chandler with his shirt unbuttoned slightly and tie loose, with a stack of folders looking he had had a day.

“8 and a half hours of aptitude tests, intelligence tests, personality tests and what do I learn?” Chandler also seemed a little on edge. “You are ideally suited for a career in data processing for a large multinational cooperation.” Chandler read off of the test result that he had gotten.

“That’s so great! Because you already know how to do that!” You cheered him on sarcastically. Bryan chuckling quietly as he looked up at you.

“Can you believe it? Don’t I seem like somebody who should be doing something really cool?” Chandler asked all of you as he paced along the kitchen, half-heartedly waving to Bryan without looking at him. “I just always pictured myself doing something…something.” Chandler frowned down at the floor as he lightly stomped his foot.

“Oh, Chandler, I know.” Rachel got up from her seat and half hugged the man as she patted him on his chest. “I know. Oh, hey! You can see your nipples through this shirt.” But Rachel’s realization did not seem to help Chandler as he turned his head and glared down at the woman.

“Here you go. Maybe this will cheer you up.” Monica tried as she offered Chandler a plate of mini food.

“Ohh, you know I had a grape about five hours ago. So I better split this with you.” He joked again as he tried to push passed his disappointing day.

“It’s supposed to be that small, it’s a pre-appetizer. The French called it an Amuse Bouche.” Monica taught all of you. So Chandler took one for the team and popped one into his mouth, when suddenly he wasn’t as upset at the moment.

“Well, it is amoozing.” Chandler joked even though he couldn’t help but get where Monica was coming from.

“You’re friends are so weird.” Bryan said quietly to you as he deeply chuckled.

“I know,” you beamed. “Isn’t it amazing.” You smiled at him in return and Bryan wrapped an arm around your waist as he pecked a kiss to your forehead.

“Hello?” Monica said as she answered the phone that had started to ring a couple seconds ago. “Oh, hi, Wendy. Yeah 8 o’clock. What did we say, ten dollars an hour? Okay, great. I’ll see you then. Bye.” Monica hung up the quick phone call and you couldn’t help but notice the hurt and surprised look on Rachel’s face.

“Ten dollars an hour for what?” Phoebe asked, before Rachel could jump to conclusions.

“Oh, I asked one of the waitress’s at work to help me out.” You couldn’t help but cringe when Monica didn’t even realize her mistake.

“Waitressing?” Rachel asked in surprise.

“Uh-oh,” Joey sang as he stood up from his chair.

“Of course I thought of you, but...but,” Monica couldn’t even think of an excuse.

“But-but?” Rachel repeated for her, you could tell that she was starting to get a little upset.

“But you see this night had to go perfect, you know.” Monica’s excuse was already flimsy. “And well, Wendy’s more of a...professional waitress.” She really was just digging herself in deeper.

“Oh. I see, and I’ve sort of been maintaining my amature status so that I can waitress in the Olympics.” Rachel joked to hide her hurt.

“You know, I don’t mean to brag, but I waited tables in Innsbruck in ‘76.” You added to try to make the conversation a bit more lighthearted. But Rachel did not find it funny at all when she glared at you, so you shrunk down and hid behind Bryan for protection.

“Amuse Bouche?” Chandler offered Rachel the plate of food to try and diffuse the situation. You were about to kiss Bryan when he leaned in, but a voice made you jump up.

“Hey, Y/N.” Joey’s voice rang out.

“Yeah?” You asked, wondering what could be so important that he was interrupting your moment with Bryan.

“We’re still on for hanging out, right?” He asked, you just furrowed your eyebrows at him. What game was he trying to play at?

“Um, yeah. Sorry must have forgotten,” you tried to play it off. But even you knew that your face just read surprise.

“Great, see you then,” Joey smiled. So then you tried to play it off with a smile, but you were breaking when you felt Bryan look at you with slight confusion.

Taglist:

@vampiregirl1797

@kellysimagines

@shizzybarnaclee

#friends rewrite #friends #Joey Tribbiani #joey tribbiani x reader #reader #bing!reader #sister!bing #chandler bing #monica geller #ross geller #rachel green #phoebe buffay

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dangerouscommiesubversive · 3 years

Text

all my tubes and wires and careful notes

Fandom: Kamen Rider Ghost

Characters: Tsukimura Akari, Alia

Song: "She Blinded Me With Science," Thomas Dolby (playlist here)

Note: Thank you to @si-siw for letting me borrow your headcanon and infecting me with this ship! I hope you enjoy the story!

The skies of the Ganma World may be clear, but the ground remains in a state, and so Akari and Igor have been working non-stop for nearly five hours when they hear a quiet, polite cough and look up to see Alia standing in the laboratory doorway. When she has their attention, she says, softly, “Are you on the verge of any particular scientific breakthroughs?”

Igor seems poised to launch into an extended explanation of what they’ve been working on, but Akari cuts him off with, “Not really. Decent progress, but nothing big yet.”

“I see. Thank you.” Then, directly to Igor, “In that case, I will need to borrow Miss Akari for a short period. You should use this time to have a meal, you’ve been working for some time.”

Blinking, Akari makes sure all of her notes are in order and then follows Alia out of the room and down the hall. “What did you need me for?”

She can see the curl of Alia’s tiny smile just from the way it changes her profile, before her mouth has even really moved. “I wanted company for lunch. And,” slightly more quietly, “I thought you might like some time out of Igor’s company.”

“I—yeah, I really do, thank you. He’s not a bad research partner, he’s just…” Akari gestures vaguely as she hunts for the right words and then settles on the diplomatic, “high energy. Plus at some point I’m going to have to explain the whole ‘I’m a lesbian’ thing and I’m not looking forward to it.”

“Is he very persistent?”

“No, you know, he really isn’t, but it’s still a conversation that we’ll need to have.” They turn a corner, go through a doorway, and are unexpectedly in a small sitting room, mostly plainly decorated, although one wall holds a painting that Akari blinks at. “Wait, did Cubi paint that?”

The tiny curl of a smile comes back. “He did. It makes the room brighter. Please, sit.”

Lunch is already served, the small table set with tea and sandwiches, and when Akari sees them her stomach growls, and she blushes. “Excuse me, I guess I am hungry.”

“Then sit down, please, and eat.”

Something seems odd as they sit down to eat, but Akari’s so hungry that she doesn’t bother working out what it is at first, in favor of wolfing down sandwiches as she gives Alia a progress report on the soil research. It’s nothing to do with the food, at least. Not the tea either, although the blend is unfamiliar. Certainly it isn’t Alia’s manner, she’s listening and asking thoughtful questions as always.

It’s—

“I love your manicure,” she’s saying, “sometimes I wish I could do fun stuff with my nails, but I do so much with my—I’m sorry.” She lowers her cup, blinking. “I just realized I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hands before.”

Alia looks down at her own hands, wrapped primly around her teacup. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t have.”

“I, if this is rude to ask then stop me, but do you hide them on ohh.” Akari trails off mid-sentence as a pattern of vividly pink circuitry pulses from Alia’s wrists to her manicured fingertips. “Oh, that’s beautiful.”

There’s a moment of silence as Alia stares at her in faint but obvious surprise. “Do you think so?” She lifts one hand from her cup and turns it in the air, as if she’s seeing it for the first time herself. “They’re prosthetic. My real hands were badly injured in one of the early trials of Eyecon technology. These are lifelike, but as you can see, they aren’t a perfect counterfeit.” The circuit pattern pulses down them again as she holds her hand out to Akari, a stylized eye appearing for a moment in the center of her palm. “My father preferred to address the issue as he addressed many others in his later life, by ignoring it, and so I became accustomed to keeping my hands concealed. In my Eyecon form they were whole, of course, but old habits are hard to break.”

Akari stares at Alia’s extended hand in shock and fascination. “I…wow, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject.”

“It’s all right. It was more than a hundred years ago at this point.”

“Oh, yeah, I suppose it…wait, if your hands are prosthetic then how did you manage the manicure? Are they acrylic?”

“They’re magnetic.” Suddenly smiling, Alia sets down her teacup and removes one of her pointed, painted thumbnails, revealing dull metal beneath, and then puts it back on. “Alain had several sets made for me as a gift shortly after we all returned to inhabiting our original flesh.”

“That was thoughtful of him.”

“He’s always been a thoughtful boy.”

Akari takes a sip of tea, amused by the reminder that of course Alain’s sister still thinks of him as a boy, and the meal continues in companionable silence for a few minutes until she realizes something else. “You were involved in the original Eyecon trials?”

Another one of those tiny curls of smile. “Of course. I was Edith’s research assistant for many years.”

“You were? Why didn’t he ever—of course he never mentioned, why would he give someone else credit. What parts of the project did you work on?”

“Oh, most of them, I’m primarily an engineer but I’ve dabbled in a number of scientific disciplines. And I do some design as well. Would you like to see my workshop?”

“I would love to.”

---

The first thing Akari sees are the notebooks. The heavy bookcase in Alia’s lab does hold some academic texts, but more than half of it is packed with enormous ledgers bound in dark leather, so many that she’s shocked the shelves don’t groan under their weight. Two more lie open on an enormous rolltop desk, their unlined pages filled with with notes and sketches in a tiny, precise hand. On the walls hang several large, heavy parchment sheets, on which are hand-drawn diagrams of machinery, hibernation capsules, an exploded Eyecon, and—

“Is that…Alain’s suit?”

“Yes.” Alia reaches up and trails a fond hand down the edge of the diagram, which is labeled Necrom—for Adel? Alain. “I designed it.”

“Oh.”

“And here is Makoto’s.” The next diagram, Makoto’s name written at the top in ink much less faded than the rest. “And the next one is an early draft of what eventually became Takeru’s, although Edith did some further work with it that he didn’t inform me about. He designed and built the transformation devices, but the suits are my work.”

“Oh, I…” Akari stares up at the diagrammed suits, the close-up sketches of tiny components, more of Alia’s perfect handwriting in notes that she can only partially read. Some are in Japanese, but others are in Latin, and more are in a language that she doesn’t recognize. There are more diagrams, too, rolled up in a wooden bin, each one neatly labeled. Specter 1.0, Necrom (Alternates), Wraith, Manes and Lemures, Eyecon (Prototype), Hands. And the tables—once she can tear her eyes away from the wall she sees that there’s a blank Eyecon disassembled on one table, and on another is an Ulorder with a panel open lying on top of yet another diagram, this one in different handwriting and weighed down at the corners with books. “This is the most beautiful room I’ve ever been in.”

“I am very glad that you think so.”

“I, I just.” A bit of futile gesturing as Akari struggles for words, and then, “Look, can I. Can I buy you dinner?”

Alia…blinks. “Pardon me?”

“I would, um, love to take you to dinner sometime, so we can. Talk. More. Because I really like talking to you. And, and maybe a concert or a movie or something, or there’s a History of Engineering exhibit at a museum near the temple, I know you haven’t gotten to visit the human world much and I could…show you around.”

There’s a long moment where Alia’s just staring at her and Akari considers the very serious possibility that she just messed up big time.

“I,” she starts again, “that is, if you want—”

“I would enjoy that.” Alia takes one of Akari’s hands in both of hers. Akari can feel how cool they are, the odd smoothness of the skin as pink circuits pulse down them, and normally she’d want to know more about that but right now there’s so much other stuff happening even if really it’s only one other thing. “A concert, if you know of one coming up, I think I get enough of engineering in the normal course of my day that maybe the museum might be better saved for a second visit.”

Akari’s ears are ringing. “There’s, um, a performance from a popular violinist coming up next Thursday night? Takeru gave me two tickets, he knows the performer…somehow…”

The curl of smile, small and warm and directly entirely at her. “I enjoy violin music. And we can discuss our work over dinner.”

If she nods any harder she’s going to get dizzy. “That. That sounds wonderful. I’ll, uh, I’ll pick you up at five!”

#tsukimura akari #ganma alia #fanfiction #30 day shuffle challenge

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mnemosyne-musing · 3 years

Text

i have no fear, i have only love (11/river)

Here on ao3

This is a young River fic from Berlin through Luna to Lake Silencio.

Find River Song. And tell her something from me…

That’s all very well, but just who exactly is River Song and how the hell does she find her? It’s a question that’s been haunting her since Berlin. She certainly wasn’t Mels anymore. But was she River yet? And how would she know? And then the second part of that sentence? Well, that was even more mystifying and more than a little bit terrifying, if truth be told. Would anyone really love a psychopath like her? And would she really love him back? Maybe it wasn’t really true? She wouldn’t blame him if it wasn’t, after all, he was dying at the time and now she’s free. The rest of her lives in exchange for her freedom in this one. It’s a bargain she’d make again in a heartbeat.

She resolves to try and not dwell on it for now. After all, she’s got a whole universe to explore now.

Tell me. Why do you want to study archaeology, Ms Song?

She eventually ends up at Luna University. She’d never been particularly fussed about the idea of going to university before but now it seems to appeal. She settles on archaeology. It seems varied and interesting but not so intensive that she can’t indulge in a few extra-curricular activities. Plus, all those months freelancing for that high-end intergalactic antique smuggling gang seemed to have really paid dividends now. She finds she can identify a priceless vase or spot a fake much easier than her classmates.

To be perfectly honest Professor, I’m looking for a good man.

There’s also him. It’s been several years since Berlin now. Years since she woke up in an empty hospital room with just the fading memories of a kiss that kickstarted his hearts, of a tantalising glimpse of the mysterious River Song and the life she might lead. She’s swaggered, blagged and conned her way around several corners of the universe. She’s revelled in the freedom and grasped the opportunity with both hands. She hadn’t realised quite how stifling linear life on Earth had been to her until she was offered the chance to break free.

At first, she deliberately tries to avoid him. At any mention of him she disappears or finds an excuse to go elsewhere. She wants the chance to discover for herself just exactly who River Song might be. But now she’s here - studying ancient things, half-formed myths and living legends. It’s the perfect place to learn about a shadowy Time Lord.

She can’t deny that she’s still incredibly curious about him. The tantalising rumours, myths and legends that have formed most of what she knows about him seem to only be half the picture. Sometimes it seems the more she reads, the more she gathers from dusty books, the further away from her he gets. Then she remembers a dying man begging her to save his friends and then herself with his final breaths.

Still, he doesn’t appear in person. A couple of times however she thinks she sees him. She’ll catch a flash of tweed or a glimpse of a bowtie in a crowd but when she looks properly, he’s not there. The years pass. She completes her undergraduate degree a year early – it would have been quicker but she spends a large part of her second year competing in, and winning, an intergalactic poker tournament.

She discovers she actually loves archaeology. What had begun as a slightly whimsical choice accompanied by a glib comment to her professor has turned into genuine interest.

She tells herself she won’t waste her years here pining for him. She won’t drive herself mad with self-pity and longing. She’ll learn what she can. She’ll discover everything there is to know about this man she gave up her lives for. And if that’s the end of their story, if she never sees him again, then so be it.

And it works. Most of the time. She’s happy and satisfied in a way she never was, never could be, as Mels. She’s doing something entirely for herself, for once, and it is wonderful. She thrives.

He still doesn’t appear. On dark days she tells herself that time can be rewritten. That those words he whispered to her as he lay dying have somehow become undone. That they won’t happen.

Or, worse, it was simply Rule One.

As luck would have it, when he eventually shows up, she’s having a terrible day. The archaeology department have rejected one of her research proposals and a blip in the biosphere security systems has led to a constant stream of noxious fumes into most of the university buildings.

She’s decided to cheer herself up by going out for the evening with one of the professors from the art history department. He’s young and a bit dashing for a professor, intelligent and just the right side of arrogant to be charming. He’s also been asking her out for weeks now and tonight she just couldn’t think of a good enough excuse not to say yes. She’s not looking for anything serious right now but a good-looking distraction is never a bad thing.

She’s applying the final touch to her lipstick when there’s an ostentatious, almost-ceremonial knocking on her door. She rolls her eyes slightly, grabs her bag and does a final check in the mirror before she opens the door.

She’s just about to say something witty and mildly salacious about his grand entrance when she stops dead. Standing in her doorway is not the handsome art history professor but the Doctor. The mysterious, legendary, enigmatic last of the Time Lords who left her years ago in a hospital on the other side of the universe is standing on her doorstep beaming at her and wearing what looks like a… a poncho?

“River!” he exclaims as she stares at him in disbelief, “What?” He frowns as she continues to gape at him, “Have I got something on my face?” He swipes his hand hastily across his cheek, “I’ve just been for cream tea with Virginia Woolf. Always a messy meal.”

“No- I-“ she finds her voice eventually as he continues to frown at her, “I- what are you doing here?”

“I’m picking you up!”

“Why?” she demands, now glaring at him with her hands on her hips

“Why?!” he repeats, frowning in bemusement at she keeps staring at him, “I told you last time! We’re going to see that meteor display near Sirius IV! The one with all the… ohh have I got the timing off?” his face falls as he anxiously checks his watch.

“I-, I- no I can’t go to Sirius IV,” she stutters, watching as his face falls further in disappointment, “I have a date.”

“A date? Oh, am I crossing wires with myself again!?” his face lights up again at the thought.

River stares at him for a long moment before she steps forward slightly into his personal space and raises a finger to point at him. “Eight years Doctor,” she manages to grind out from between gritted teeth. She punctuates each of her words with a slight jab into his chest that makes him rock back on his heels. “It’s been. Eight. Long. Years.”

“Eight years?” he looks at her in confusion, “What do you mean? I thought I just saw you- oh- oh-” he trails off as comprehension dawns, “You haven’t seen me since- since Berlin?” he checks nervously as River shakes her head, “Ah. Well, that explains the- the- ” he trails off again, gesticulating nervously as River glares at him, “Never mind! Hang on- if you haven’t seen me since Berlin, then who are you going on a date with?!”

Before she is able to reply however, the subject of their conversation suddenly appears from the nearby stairwell.

“Him?! The Doctor exclaims in outrage as River manages a somewhat flustered smile at the arriving professor, “You can’t be going on a date with him!”

“And why not?” River visibly bristles as she glares back at him.

“Because he- oh- wait that’s probably- Ha- spoilers!” the Doctor’s scoffing suddenly turns to glee as he rocks back on his heels and bites his bottom lip in amusement.

“I’m sorry, have I missed something?” Handsome Art History Professor looks between River and the Doctor in confusion.

“No, nothing,” River pulls her door shut and steps determinedly past the Doctor, taking the professor’s arm and flashes him a brilliant smile as she takes his arm and pulls him towards the stairway, leaving the Doctor still standing on her doorstep. “We’re leaving.”

As he turns round to watch her retreating form, he shakes his head fondly before he shoves his hands in his pockets and heads back to the TARDIS.

She dates Handsome Professor for two months and then realises he’s been stealing some of her ideas and passing off them as his own in his lectures and papers. She gets him all hot and bothered in his office one day, leaves him naked and handcuffed to his desk and then reports him to the faculty for plagiarism. He leaves Luna soon after that.

Keep reading on ao3

#river song #river x eleven #dwfic #eleventh doctor #myfic

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second-chance-stray · 3 years

Photo

RP Log: Cravendy and Lin whittle the time away. @lettersnorth

Cravendy Hound sits on the balcony with an assortment of knick knacks spread around her. All kinds of wood, with and without bark, as well as knives of different sizes and shapes. She takes in a deep breath as she leans back against the railing, practically melting in the warm sun. But no matter how relaxing this might be, little worries spring up like weeds in the back of her mind...will Lin join her today? Did she get her note, and will she know how to get here?

Cravendy Hound groans. Brain, hurry up and remember how to loosen up.

Aislinn North It had taken Aislinn a moment to work out Cravendy's note, particularly in regards to where she would be setting up. This balcony at the back of Heartwood's grounds was tucked away and unless a person frequented the spot it was easy to remember it existed at all. Barring that, the woman also had been juggling a lot recently, both in mind and body. Though things with Cravendy had smoothed out somewhat, 1/2

Aislinn North she held an inkling of nervous energy as she made her way out to the balcony. If anything, this should take her mind off other matters for a time. "Alright, then?" she asked as she arrived. "Almost forgot this existed." 2/2

Cravendy Hound jumps slightly on Lin’s approach, and then turns to watch as she steps up the ladder and onto the balcony. She blinks - what is there to be so cautious about? They’re here to enjoy the daylight and carve some wood, simple as that. Cravs nods to herself, and then tries to smile at the other woman. It looks more like she’s baring her fangs.

Cravendy Hound: “Nice place. Secluded, and the view is ‘ard to beat, though if the wind becomes too much we oughta pack up our things and move indoors. But it’s good right now.” She picks up a rod of wood and a knife, and begins to scrape away ribbons without a moment's hesitation. Then she remembers why Lin came. “......Oh, right. ‘Ere, let me show ye.”

Cravendy Hound hands Lin a piece of wood. “It’s pretty simple. Carve away from yer ‘ands, and go with or across the grain. Why don’t ye give it a shot?”

Aislinn North At Cravendy's insistence she leaned down and took the block of wood being offered. After a quick study of the tools the Seawolf had spread out, Aislinn picked up one of the work worn carving knives. It was obviously a well-used tool and therefore likely to be a good one by Aislinn's thinking. She watched Cravendy a moment and then, ever the mockingbird, began to emulate her. Needless to say, Cravendy made it look much easier than it was. 1/2

Aislinn North Aislinn's knife kept snagging but she was nothing if not patient. "What sort of things do you carve?" asked idly as she hacked away at her poor block of wood. 2/2

Cravendy Hound: “Mostly small figures, like birds. Sometimes eatin’ utensils, if I feel like makin’ somethin’ that’ll be of some use. I don’t really think about it until I’m ‘olding the wood and knife in my hand.” Cravs carefully digs into her piece again, whittling another curl of material away. So far, she was lacking in inspiration, but it was satisfying regardless.

Cravendy Hound eyes what Lin is doing to her block with a grimace, but doesn’t comment on it...directly. “Maybe ye can start with somethin’ simple. A spoon, or a ‘air pin?”

Aislinn North Aislinn paused, glancing at Cravendy over the rim of her glasses. "So you don't actually know what you're going to carve until you're already carving?" For someone like Lin, the idea that there were no blueprints, no schematics, no advanced planning was almost an anathema. In her experience going along with her intuition and acting in the moment only got her into trouble.

Aislinn North Better that everything be carefully thought out and planned for. The exception being, in the heat of a fight, of course. Even then a good strategist should be able to foresee most possibilities and plan for them.

Cravendy Hound: “Yeah,” she answers nonchalantly. It, of course, sometimes led to her sharpening the wood into a simple spike or creating something equally unplanned, but for her, the point was to go with the flow. Cravs looks at her half-carved piece of wood with a hum.

Cravendy Hound shrugs. “No right or wrong way about it. I wouldn’t think too ‘ard about it...and if ye mess up, the wood shavings make good firestarter.”

Aislinn North Right. Aislinn gamely continued on in her endeavor but it was clear the woman was better with a firearm than a blade. And as much as Cravendy said not to think too hard about it, Aislinn had already decided what would be the best course of action. "A spoon can't be too hard, right?" she murmured, almost to herself as she concentrated on trying to steer the knife smoothly down the block. A comfortable sort of quiet settled between the women as they worked.

(Cravendy Hound) fdskjlf for some reason...I'm imagining Lin's spoon to be dual purpose in some way )) (Cravendy Hound) spoon end, and...stabby end is a thought xD )) (Aislinn North) ((She'll end up inventing the spork in Eorzea)) (Cravendy Hound) omg yES ))

Cravendy Hound lifts her work-in-progress up to the light. The curves cut out from it remind her of a fish, and she decides to keep going with it. Without realizing it, she begins to sing - a whisper of a song that is almost lost in the wind. It starts and ends without ever registering in her memory, and afterwards she grins at Lin.

Cravendy Hound: “The woods are nice when they aren’t sendin’ bees or other nasty buggers yer way. Feels...too nice, sometimes. A salty old dog like me is used to a lot worse.”

Aislinn North Her head bent over her work, Aislinn is lost in the minute details of blade against wood until Cravendy's lilting song quietly fills the air. Blinking, she lifted her head in surprise. She never pegged the woman as the type to sing. Though now she wasn't exactly sure why that would be. Sailors sang all the time, didn't they? But what Cravendy said seemed to flummox her even more. "The woods sent bees after you?" she halted as the realization came to her. 1/2

Aislinn North "Ohh. The Shroud. Aye, it can be touchy." she ran a jerky blade down her block of wood once more. "What did you do? I mean, to annoy it?" she clarified. 2/2

Cravendy Hound sucks in air through gritted teeth, and a light blush spreads over her face. “Oh, I don’t know...ye know. The Elementals are very, uh, mysterious.” She then slices away at her wood and, flustered, accidentally takes off a large chunk of the fish’s tail. Damnit. It’s starting to look more like an eel.

Cravendy Hound: “Okay, I’ll come clean. Ye know ‘ow I was practicin’ my aim, but I kept ‘ittin’ the trees instead of the target? I kept doin’ that and...I mean, that could be it.” She presses her lips tightly together. “Maybe.”

Aislinn North: The roundabout answer had Aislinn suppressing a small smile. It sounded as though Cravendy knew exactly what she had done. Aislinn wasn't going to press the issue but she didn't have to, either. Her face lit with silent laughter in the light of Cravendy's confession. 1/2

Aislinn North "Aye, I may have done that once or twice. Learned my lesson though. If I'm going out there in the wilds and not to the range, I'll pack my stunning ammo and a little target node instead. Seems to annoy the Shroud less that way. Or. ..at least I haven't got chased out since doing it that way." she paused in her work and looked Cravendy over. "Glad to see you don't look any worse for wear though. Looks like it was just a polite warning." 2/2

Cravendy Hound grimaces further as she recalls the swarm of bugs and plants that chased her from Peacegarden all the way to Hrystmill. “To be ‘onest, I probably would’ve been carried off by the buggers and thrown into the sun if it weren’t for..er. What was ‘is name...” Cravs waves her knife around, as if the physical motion of twisting her wrist would get the cogs in her head going. “Uhh, some mailman who goes by ‘Windy’ or somethin’. He got the worst of it off my back.”

Cravendy Hound: “Stun ammo...I’ll ‘ave to find some for myself. Don’t want a repeat incident.”

Aislinn North Aislinn had to stop her carving. If she hadn't she was liable to slip and make a bloody mess of one of her fingers. Her shoulders shook from the effort to keep her laughter quiet and contained. "So. ..let me make sure I understand. You were chased off your target practice by a swarm of bees. And then. ..saved by a mailman named 'Windy'. Out in the wilds of the Shroud. A mailman." she could do little more than shake her head. 1/2

Aislinn North "You do seem to end up in the oddest situations, Cravendy." 2/2

(Cravendy Hound) aaahahha xD )) (Cravendy Hound) it's gonna be hilarious when everything snaps into place )) (Aislinn North) ((assuming it ever does. But yes! xD)) (Cravendy Hound) it will!!! I'll make sure of it xD ))

Cravendy Hound nibbles the bottom of her lip. It was...an approximately accurate retelling of what had happened. Ridiculous, but maybe the bees in her hair had rattled her brain and shuffled her memory around. Swiving elementals. “Guy was as stiff as a board, but would say wild things with such ease. Claimed that ‘e could outrun a chocobo. Funny bastard, ‘ope I find ‘im again.”

Cravendy Hound is done carving her fish...eel...thing. Looking at it, you can’t quite tell what it is, though the swirling lines criss crossing over the wood are pleasing enough. She puts it down with a sigh. “I’m a fish out of water ‘ere, but it beats bein’ in Limsa or Ul'dah by a long shot.”

Aislinn North "Snorted "Supposin' if he could, he'd be the kind of mailman you'd want." she glanced down at Cravendy's work. She couldn't rightly say what it was but it was malms ahead of whatever she herself was doing. She looked down at her lap and picked up the block again. "I'm not gonna argue with you about Ul'dah. Neither one of us needs to step foot there. And Limsa. ..I can see why you might be avoiding it." she paused briefly. 1/2

Aislinn North Her block was beginning to resemble some sort of rudimentary spatula of some sort. Perhaps one drawn by a child. "Gridania just takes some getting used to, is all. It's...different." she shook her head. "It's not my favorite place either but there's good things about it." 2/2

Cravendy Hound looks over at Lin’s work, and then searches the array of tools scattered on the deck for one that has a small, curved blade at the tip. She picks it up and offers it to Lin. “This one is better for carvin’ out a ‘ole...so yer spoon is more spoon, and less spatula.”

Cravendy Hound then returns to crossing her arms, looking into the distance with a scowl on her face. She tells herself that by avoiding Limsa, she does everyone else a favor. With everything that had happened...No one wanted to itch that wound open again. But the truth is that she’s scared of what she’ll find. She’s not ready, not yet. But back to Gridania. “......The drinks’re good ‘ere, and that’s all I can ask for.”

Aislinn North She set aside her knife and took the proffered tool. "Right." she eyed the curve of the blade and then set to work. "And you know. ..when the bees aren't chasing you it can be downright pleasant." there may have been a facetious note to Aislinn's voice. She looked over at Cravendy with a brief smile. "Today's not a bad day, anyroads." she waved her tool out over the view the balcony provided, the sound of the wide river rushing below them. 1/2

Aislinn North "But I know what you mean. The forest can feel. ..confining. Closed in. It's not the wide ocean and it certainly isn't Gyr Abania." 2/2

Cravendy Hound: “I’m not pleasant, I’m...” Cravs trails off, her fire blowing out as quickly as it had flared up. Her days as a rough and tumble pirate were long behind her, despite it feeling like it was just yesterday. She snorts. “Bah.”

Cravendy Hound: “Never been to Gyr Abania.” She peers over at Lin, an assumption hanging in the air. She was Ala Mhigan, she probably went there all the time, right? But then again, Cravs was a Sea Wolf avoiding Limsa like the plague. “It seems...dry?”

Aislinn North "Ahh." Aislinn thought she understood now. "Well, the Shroud isn't exactly pleasant either. It has it's moments. That's all. Can still turn on you if you're not careful." She set down her knife. Maybe she'd ought to take stock and pause for a moment. "Dry's a good word for it." she nodded. "Though I haven't been back for..." she paused. Not since going to see the monks. She glanced away as a sadness seemed to settle over her, one she took an effort to shake off. 1/2

Aislinn North "Well, it's been more than a few moons. There's rivers and such but still. ..it's a dry, hard, beautiful place." 2/2

Aislinn North: "Maybe we wander that way one day. Just for a change of scenery."

Cravendy Hound fidgets with the fish-eel figure in her hands. Was that sadness, or perhaps longing in Lin’s voice? She wasn’t sure, except for the fact that there was -something-. But as the sun sets over the mountains, Cravs decides that it’s time to head back in, where they could continue whittling the time away in comfortable silence by warm fires and a well-stocked kitchen.

#ff14 rp logs #Cravendy Hound #Aislinn North #wood whittling!! :D #and bertram mention #aka windy the mailman aaaahah

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babysizedfics · 4 years

Text

Little Accidents, Big Developments

Chapter 4: Bubbles and Babbles

[This is an age regression story]

Chapter Summary: Roman is ticklish, Logan is only here for like 4 lines of dialogue, Patton gives his baby a bath, and Virgil finally opens up about his problem.

Chapter word count: 7,700

Other chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / bonus

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Slight warning: Bathtime obviously entails some nudity. Nothing is described graphically and it is, of course, entirely non-sexual. Also, there is some swearing in the second half of the chapter!

oOo

A few minutes passed by in comfortable quiet as Patton held his little prince. He had shuffled them both up towards the head of the bed and was now propped on several silk pillows with Roman cuddled up to his side. Warm breaths puffed against Patton’s chest as he gently twiddled a lock of Roman’s hair between his fingers. It was a far cry from their usual activities together (Roman, being so boisterous when he was little, was never willing to stay still for long). Though Patton suspected that his crying fit earlier had tuckered the poor little guy out.

‘You feeling any better, kiddo?’ Patton whispered, scratching his fingernails lightly over Roman’s scalp.

‘Apart from feeling absolutely devasted about my ruined hairdo?’ Roman replied with all of his usual impish energy.

Patton smiled. His little prince was back to his sassy self. He saw that Roman’s feet rubbed up and down on the sheets and his fingers fidgeted with Patton’s shirt; he was clearly becoming antsy. So what kind of Dad would Patton be if he didn’t up the stakes of their cuddle? ‘Oh, it’s like that is it?’

‘I do feel better though,’ Roman shrugged, completely oblivious to his impending doom. ‘Thanks, Dad.’

‘I don’t know this Dad you speak of.’ Patton hoisted Roman up by the armpits and wrapped his arms around his chest in a vice. ‘I’m the Cuddle-Monster!’

‘Dad,’ Roman whined, but there was a gigglish ring to it. He squirmed a little since Patton’s fingers were still under his arms. ‘You’re not the Cuddle-Monster!’

Patton almost squealed. This was too good an opening.

‘Aw, you’ve blown my cover, Ro,’ he sighed, glad that Roman couldn’t see his evil smile. That would ruin the surprise. ‘I’m not the Cuddle-Monster…’ He suddenly curled his fingertips further into Roman’s armpits, earning him a shriek.

‘W-wait,’ Roman gasped between muffled giggles.

‘I’m the Tickle-Monster!’ Patton announced loudly and started wiggling his fingers.

‘Dahahad,’ Roman cackled, kicking his legs weakly against the mattress. Patton knew he wasn’t fighting hard enough for it to be genuine (Roman was scarily strong when he was really trying to be) so his fingers continued their ticklish attack.

‘Your Dad can’t save you now,’ Patton giggled, delighted to hear Roman snort in laughter. ‘The Tickle-Monster is your new father!’

‘Nohohoho!’ Roman cried dramatically through his laughter, writhing in Patton’s hold.

‘Yehehehes!’ Patton countered, copying Roman’s tone teasingly.

There was a loud rapping at the door and Patton reluctantly relinquished his hold on Roman. The boy hurriedly rolled off of him and clenched his hands under his armpits to protect them as he recovered from his giggle fit.

‘Saved by the bell-y.’ Patton poked Roman’s tummy.

‘Eep!’

He chuckled at Roman’s squeak and jumped up off of the bed, moving over to the bedroom door. Once he had pulled it open, his smile faltered.

Logan stood in the hallway smiling stiffly in greeting, though the look in his eyes was tired and almost pained. He had his arm wrapped around Virgil, who looked completely miserable.

The regressor’s cheeks were tear-stained and a pacifier bobbed in his mouth frantically. He looked up at Patton for a brief second before his eyes fell on something behind him. Virgil whimpered and quickly ducked behind Logan, hiding his face against his arm. Patton twisted to see Roman sitting cross-legged on his bed, looking at them and biting his lip nervously.

‘I’m going to take care of Virgil now, little prince,’ Patton whispered back to him and got a watery smile in return. As much as he felt he should stay with Roman, Virgil clearly needed him at that moment. ‘I love you lots,’ he reminded him.

‘Love you too, Dad,’ Roman said quietly, absently stroking his silk bedsheet.

Patton stepped out of the room and gently closed the door behind him.

‘Hey, baby,’ he whispered to the fluff of hair poking out from behind Logan, ‘do you want a hug from Papa?’

Virgil instantly rushed forward and clutched onto Patton as if his life depended on it. He started sniffling into Patton’s shirt within seconds.

‘Oh, sweetheart.’ Patton held his baby close and stroked his hair, swaying him gently from side to side.

‘He is understandably shaken up,’ Logan murmured, gently tossing something back and forth between his hands. Patton realised it was Roman’s teddy bear from earlier. ‘I managed to get his breathing under control and give him some water. Usually, I would recommend he lie down and nap after an attack, though there is the other issue…’ Logan’s eyes quickly darted down to Virgil’s pants, then back to Patton pointedly.

‘Got it,’ Patton whispered, then looked back down to Virgil, even if all he could see was a mess of purple hair. ‘Does my baby want a nice, warm bubble bath?’ he cooed, though there was no response. He looked up to Logan worriedly but was only met with a solemn nod. Logan seemed to be unsurprised by Virgil’s despondency.

Patton sighed and stroked his hand through Virgil’s hair once. ‘Let’s get you ready for bathtime, Stormcloud.’

The arms around his torso hugged tighter, but at least there was no protest. Still, Virgil’s lack of responses, positive or otherwise, was a little disconcerting. It was true that he was usually a quiet baby, but Patton had never seen him so defeated. Hopefully, some bubbles and splashes would cheer him up.

‘Should I, um?’ Logan pointed to Roman’s door.

Patton nodded. ‘Yeah, but maybe don’t talk about what happened,’ he added carefully. ‘I already had a word with him about it.’ Logan’s eyebrows raised in interest but Patton shook his head lightly. ‘I’ll tell you later. Just keep our little prince smiling.’

‘Duly noted.’

Patton turned his attention back to the trembling boy in his arms. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of Virgil’s head and murmured, ‘Time to go, sweetie.’

He then gently encouraged Virgil to let go of him, keeping his arm wrapped around his shoulders. Patton didn't dare to leave him without physical contact for a single second.

As Patton began leading them down the hallway he heard Logan open Roman’s door.

‘Are you mad at me?’ Roman immediately asked.

Patton stopped in his tracks, turning back to see what would happen. It was worrying to hear Roman so uncharacteristically nervous.

‘Yes. You have committed a heinous crime…’ Logan held Aladdin the teddy bear up in the open doorway, staring deadpan at Roman. ‘How dare you abandon your husband on your wedding night?’

Patton huffed in half-relief, half-amusement as he heard Roman break down into giggles. Logan walked into the room and pushed the door shut, throwing a quick wink to Patton before it had closed completely.

‘Papa?’ Virgil squeaked and tugged on his sleeve. Patton quickly looked down at him, feeling his heart drop when he saw the distress in Virgil’s glossy eyes. ‘Wep,’ he whimpered quietly through his pacifier.

‘I know you’re wet, baby, it’s okay.’ Patton slowly raised a hand to Virgil’s cheek and smoothed his thumb over a dried tear-track. Despite the misery in Virgil’s voice, Patton was at least glad he was responsive now. ‘We’re gonna get you cleaned up, don’t worry.’

He started moving them towards the bathroom again, feeling guilty for stopping. His baby couldn’t have been very comfortable in wet jeans.

As soon as they were in the bathroom, he sat Virgil down on the closed toilet seat, rubbing his shoulder soothingly when he winced in what must have been discomfort.

‘Good boy. Papa’s only walking away for a few seconds, then I’m gonna come right back, okay?’

Patton quickly walked over to the bath, not waiting for a response. He was well-rehearsed in this routine and, as expected, Virgil started whimpering the moment Patton had stepped away from him.

'Papa's still here, sweetheart.' Patton spun the valves on the bath with practised ease then turned to search through the cabinet. The whimpers had died down, though he could see Virgil's worried eyes watching him carefully as he rifled through the various toiletry bottles.

‘What a brave baby,’ Patton praised as he selected the lavender bubble bath and poured a healthy amount into the steadily filling tub. As soon as he had put the bottle on the side of the bath he hurried back to Virgil and leaned down to kiss his head.

Virgil’s separation anxiety was not usually so intense that he couldn’t bear Patton walking away for a mere moment, though Patton had realised over the past two weeks that having an accident always made Virgil incredibly sensitive to being left alone. The poor baby seemed terrified of having to deal with his accidents all by himself.

‘We're gonna have so much fun,’ Patton said cheerily, trying to lift the mood in the room to make the next task easier.

The most difficult part of bathtime was getting Virgil undressed since the anxious side had a difficult time letting go of his self-consciousness. Though through messing around on one occasion last week, Patton had discovered an effective way of distracting Virgil from his anxieties, at least for the most part.

‘Okey dokey. Are we ready for the Hokey Cokey?’

Virgil nodded shyly - a watered-down version of his usual enthusiasm. Patton mentally prepared himself for a fussy baby but joyfully launched into song.

‘Ohh, you put your left arm in,’ Patton sang, lifting Virgil’s left arm. ‘Your left arm out.’ He pulled at Virgil’s sleeve until it slid off his arm. ‘In, out, in, out, you shake it all about!’ Patton linked their fingers and shook Virgil’s arm exaggeratedly. The sparkle in Virgil’s eyes told Patton that there was an adorable little smile hiding behind his pacifier.

Patton grinned. ‘You do the hokey cokey, and you turn around.’ He dropped Virgil’s hand and spun in a circle, swaying his hips in what Roman commonly referred to as “cringe-inducing dad dancing”. ‘That what it’s all about!’ Patton finished the verse with a small kiss to Virgil’s now-bare shoulder. Light giggles filled the room alongside the sound of gushing water.

‘What a cute little giggle,’ Patton cooed, before launching into the next verse, this time with the right arm. ‘Ohh, you put your right arm in…’

By the end of the verse, Virgil’s shirt was off and crumpled on the floor. He barely seemed to notice though, being so captivated by Patton’s silly performance.

‘Whoa, a hokey cokey,’ Patton sang with a bright smile, slowly pulling Virgil up to stand. ‘Whoaa, a hokey cokey.’ He tickled very lightly at Virgil’s neck and the boy giggled and scrunched his chin up. ‘Whoaaa, a hokey cokey!’ He poked Virgil’s belly button, which was met with a little squeal followed by muffled laughter.

‘Knees bent,’ Patton kneeled down in front of Virgil, making sure to keep eye contact with him as he kept singing and smiling. ‘Arms stretched!’ Virgil giggled, stretching his arms out to his side. Meanwhile, Patton very gently unfastened his jeans. ‘A rah, rah, rah,’ Patton sang and wriggled the wet pants down Virgil’s hips in time with the song.

Virgil’s smile dropped and he curled his arms back into himself. One hand went up to grasp onto the handle of his pacifier, tugging at it nervously as Patton pulled Virgil’s pants down to his thighs.

‘Well done, baby!’ Patton smiled, knowing not to draw attention to Virgil��s nervousness. ‘Ready for the next part?’

There was a brief moment of hesitation, then Virgil nodded jerkily, his eyes wary.

Patton reached out to hold Virgil’s free hand. It was mostly to help him keep balance, though he knew it offered the boy some emotional comfort too as he immediately squeezed Patton’s fingers.

‘Ohh, you put your left leg up.’ With help from Patton to keep him from falling over, Virgil lifted one leg while Patton peeled the wet jeans down it, ‘your left leg out.’ He squeezed Virgil’s hand in reassurance and beamed up at him. ‘In, out, in, out, you shake it all about!’ He wriggled the jeans and managed to tug them off of Virgil’s foot with some effort, allowing the regressor to stand on both feet again. ‘You do the hokey cokey and you turn around.’ Patton let go of Virgil’s hand and spun precariously on one foot, still crouching. Virgil giggled quietly. ‘That’s what it’s all about!’

He repeated the verse and dance moves again with the right leg, leaving the jeans in a wet pile on the floor with Virgil’s shirt. Patton stood up with a proud smile. ‘Aren’t you such a sweet baby today?’

He wasn’t exaggerating; given how emotional Virgil had been before, Patton was impressed they were down to his underwear and Virgil hadn’t shed a single tear about being undressed. It seemed the fact that they had done this ritual a few times now had made the boy much more comfortable with the task.

That, of course, didn’t mean Virgil wasn’t nervous at all. He was pulling at the pacifier handle so harshly that the plastic was creaking in complaint. Colour was high in his cheeks and Patton decided to move on quickly, knowing his baby must have been embarrassed standing in only his wet underwear.

He hummed the final chorus of the song as he turned off the faucets, the tub now being full of perfectly warm water and large peaks of fluffy bubbles.

‘And that’s what it’s all about!’ he finished dramatically, complete with a pirouette and jazz hands.

Virgil didn’t giggle this time being apparently too nervous, though his dimples were peeking out from behind the pacifier. Patton took his hands gently and guided him over to the edge of the tub. The regressor stiffened, obviously knowing what they had to do next.

‘It’s all right, Vee,’ Patton whispered. ‘Papa’s just taking care of you, isn’t he?’ It was met with a tiny nod then Virgil squinted his eyes shut in anticipation. Patton slowly released his hands and curled his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear. ‘We’re going to be super-duper quick, ready?’

Another small nod and Patton swiftly pulled down Virgil’s underwear. ‘Good boy,’ he soothed when he heard Virgil whimper. ‘Okay, big steps now, sweetums.’ He took Virgil’s hands again and helped him to step out of the sodden underwear on the floor and into the bath. Being very careful of how clumsy Virgil could be in his headspace, Patton gently lowered him into the bubbles, the water sloshing against the sides of the tub lazily as it accommodated him.

‘All done!’ Patton cheered and kneeled down beside the tub.

Virgil finally opened his eyes, looking up at Patton shyly.

‘Now we get to play!’ Patton cried excitedly. He picked up a handful of bubbles and blew into them so that they scattered and became foam confetti. Virgil was evidently still anxious from the experience, staying quiet and only blinking curiously at the bubbles.

When that didn’t manage to cheer him up, Patton knew it was time for Plan B. He scooped up some more bubbles and put them on his own chin to make himself a beard. ‘Ho, ho, ho!’ he chuckled, jolly and deep.

Virgil’s eyes sparkled a little as he started to smile. He tentatively poked a mound of bubbles in front of him.

‘Do you know who I am, sweetheart?’ Patton prompted, glad that the anxious tension had dissipated.

‘Obim?’ Virgil asked. He was lightly batting at the bubbles now, successfully distracted from his nervousness.

‘Did you say Odin?’ Patton did his best to contain his giggle, not wanting Virgil to think he was laughing at him.

Virgil nodded hesitantly, suckling his paci faster.

‘Aw, you’re such a clever baby,’ Patton praised. There was no way he was going to tell Virgil he was wrong. ‘You’re right, I’m Odin. And who does that make you?’

Virgil gasped quietly and his eyes lit up. ‘Woki!’

‘You wanna be Loki?’ Patton wiped his bubble beard off on his t-shirt. There was never a bathtime when his clothes didn’t get soaked, anyway. ‘What about Thor?’

‘Wo-Wo,’ Virgil babbled, his tone indicating that he thought it was obvious.

‘Ohh, of course,’ Patton nodded, reaching over to grab a washcloth from the towel rail. ‘Ro-Ro can be Thor. Maybe we can do that next time we play pretend!’ He dipped the washcloth in the water then poured some extra soap onto it. ‘Okay, baby, I’m gonna start on your back.’

He shuffled over on the floor so that he was knelt behind Virgil and started washing his back. The tension gradually left Virgil’s body, his shoulders dropping more and more with each circle of the washcloth. Patton smiled softly.

By the time he had finished soaping up his back, Virgil was completely relaxed and he patted his hands against the water playfully. Every time the water sloshed or splashed he hummed and squealed in delight.

‘Is that a happy stim, Vee?’ Patton asked.

Virgil nodded fervently and started splashing the water again with more energy as if Patton’s acknowledgement had given him permission.

As Patton finished rinsing his back, Virgil slapped his hands against the bubbles a bit too hard and clumps of foam flew everywhere.

‘Whoopsy daisy,’ Patton sing-songed, not surprised as it had happened almost every bathtime previously.

Virgil shyly looked back at him with pieces of foam dotted around his face.

‘What a bubbly baby!’ Patton giggled. He picked up a small clump of bubbles from Virgil’s bangs then tapped them onto Virgil’s nose. ‘Boop.’

Virgil’s smile stretched past his paci and he giggled. The bubbles slowly trickled down to his lip. His smile suddenly dropped and he blinked slowly, scrunching up his nose.

Patton frowned a little in confusion, though still wore a bright grin. He looked so cute! ‘Are you okay, honey?’

Virgil’s reply was a little sneeze.

‘Aww!’ Patton cooed. It was a running joke in the house that Virgil sneezed like a kitten. His pacifier only made it all the more adorable. ‘Did the bubbles tickle your little nose?’

Virgil frowned and wiped his hand on his face to try to get the bubbles off - only to accidentally smear a big handful of them right over his pacifier and nose.

‘Ohoho, sweetheart,’ Patton chuckled, needing to lean on the bath as he doubled over with laughter. He found it hard to believe he had ever had so much fun before becoming a caregiver to the two most adorable boys in the world.

There was a desperate whine and Patton looked through tears of mirth to see Virgil looking at him pleadingly, the lower half of his face still caked in white foam.

‘Papa’s got it, don’t worry.’ Patton reached forward to wipe the bubbles away easily. ‘There we go. Now I can see your pretty face!’

He delighted at seeing Virgil’s cheeks flush. It was nearly impossible to get a non-regressed Virgil to accept a compliment, though he was much more susceptible to praise when he was little. Patton made a point to do it as much as he could while Virgil was regressed, wanting his little Stormcloud to understand just how amazing he was.

‘All done on this side,’ Patton said, swiping the washcloth over Virgil's back one last time. He shuffled over to reach Virgil’s front and got a better view of just how bright his little baby looked. His cheeks were rosy, his dimples were popping, and his eyes were wide in childlike wonder as he pawed at the bubbles again. Bathtime had apparently become an enjoyable little activity for him and Patton was ecstatic.

When he had first become Virgil’s caregiver, Patton had been so eager to get started that he had daydreamed about various adorable scenarios of looking after his baby. A notable fantasy had been one where he washed his baby lovingly while Virgil splashed around in too many bubbles. He couldn’t help it! Baby bathtimes were a mix of intimate caring, affection, and playfulness; the activity was a pinnacle of parenting. Though, at the time, he had never actually dared to imagine Virgil would be comfortable enough to share this experience together. But here Patton was, rubbing a washcloth over Virgil’s chest lovingly as his baby played with the bubbles. He really felt like the luckiest caregiver ever.

Patton was starting to get choked up, and he paused in the bathing to lean forward and press a firm kiss to Virgil’s cheek. The boy squeaked in surprise. When Patton pulled away he saw that Virgil’s smile was the biggest it had ever been. Patton’s heart swelled. ‘I love you, precious boy.’

‘Wuv Papa,’ Virgil babbled happily. Then he stretched out his arms toward Patton and proudly held up two handfuls of bubbles piled high.

‘Ooh, what are you gonna do with all those bubbles?’ Patton asked, taking the opportunity to wash under Virgil’s arms.

Virgil held the bubbles in front of his mouth and his cheeks puffed up as he tried to blow them - to no avail. Having a pacifier in his mouth obviously blocked the airflow and the bubbles did not budge. Patton saw the exact moment the disappointment filled Virgil’s eyes, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He looked up at Patton and whined.

‘Uh oh, did it not work?’ Patton feigned his own confusion. It was both fascinating and adorable how Virgil truly had the mindset of a baby, not understanding something so simple. ‘Let’s try again, honey. Three, two, one, blow!’

He ducked behind Virgil’s line of sight and blew silently at the exact same time. The bubbles scattered into the air and Patton gasped dramatically. ‘You did it!’ he cheered, looking at Virgil with a big smile.

In any other circumstance, he would have felt guilty for tricking Virgil. But the giggles that rang around the room and the way Virgil practically vibrated with excitement meant Patton would happily do it a hundred times over.

‘Now it’s tummy time,’ Patton announced happily. This was a tricky task too, though not in a bad way at all. Just in a squirmy way.

‘Here I come…’ he warned as he trailed the washcloth down Virgil’s ribs. The boy squealed and jerked, making the bathwater slosh dangerously close to the edge of the tub. Patton chuckled, ‘I have a feeling I’m gonna get very wet in a second.’

With a deep breath, he moved his hand down and swirled the cloth around Virgil’s belly. The regressor immediately started giggling and wiggling uncontrollably. Water lapped onto the floor and soaked Patton’s shirt and khakis. He couldn’t help but break down into laughter himself.

‘Is my baby ticklish?’ he teased, wriggling his fingers and beaming at the high-pitched squeaks that it caused. Patton would have loved to coax more adorable laughter from Virgil, but the boy was far more ticklish than Roman and couldn’t handle as much of the Tickle-Monster as his brother could. Patton lifted the washcloth away with one final poke, ‘Okay, sweetie. Your ticklish tummy is safe for now.’

He surveyed the mess on the floor. There was a large, bubbly puddle surrounding his knees. Seeing his own reflection looking back at him with a smile, Patton made a note to invest in an absorbent bath mat soon. (And maybe even some bath toys for his baby!) He grabbed a towel from the rail and stood up to lay it down, kneeling back on it once it had soaked up most of the spillage.

Virgil had calmed down from the tickling and was now holding a clump of foam up to the light, mesmerized. The light refracted through the bubbles, sparkling with all of the colours of the rainbow.

‘Can you see lots of colours, Vee?’ Patton asked, and knew this would be the perfect distraction for the final task.

‘Waybow,’ Virgil whispered.

‘That’s right,’ Patton said, squeezing more soap onto the cloth and lowering it to Virgil’s thigh. ‘Can you tell me some of the colours, little one?’

‘Lellow,’ Virgil immediately said, smiling up at Patton.

‘How pretty!’ Patton started scrubbing Virgil’s thighs, using his free hand to rest on his baby’s head protectively. ‘Any more?’

‘Burble!’

‘And purple too?’ Patton embellished his tone with excitement as he trailed the cloth further up Virgil’s thighs. ‘Can you see any others?’

Virgil had obviously sensed where the washcloth was going and hunched into himself a little. ‘Web?’ he whispered shakily.

‘Mhm, red. And whose favourite colour is that?’ Patton asked.

‘Wo-Wo,’ Virgil mumbled, tensing up suddenly as the washcloth brushed his hip.

‘It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,’ Patton whispered and stroked his hair soothingly. It was the only acknowledgement he would give to what was happening. He had quickly learned that if he didn’t make a big deal out of something, Virgil was less likely to. ‘Now can you try really hard to find your mama’s favourite colour?’

Virgil’s attention was redirected as he squinted at the bubbles and Patton swiftly moved the washcloth up to clean around his crotch. It was over within seconds and he was pulling his hand away by the time Virgil had realised what had happened. The regressor whimpered and pulled his knees up to his chest.

‘All done,’ Patton soothed and leaned over the tub to kiss his head. ‘It’s okay, baby. You were such a good boy.’

A quiet whine told him Virgil wasn’t quite over the distress of having Patton wash him in such an intimate place, but at least he wasn’t crying like he had been the first few times they had done this. Well - Patton noted the wetness in Virgil’s eyes - at least not fully.

‘Could you find Mama’s colour?’

Virgil sniffled and shook his head.

‘That’s all right.’ Patton threw the washcloth onto the pile of wet clothes on the floor. ‘Do you want to play some more in the water?’

Virgil stared blankly up at him and said nothing.

Patton decided to make the question clearer for him and held up both hands in front of Virgil. ‘Do you want more bathtime,’ he waved his left hand, ‘or do you want naptime?’ he waved his right hand.

After a few seconds of his gaze flitting between each option, Virgil pointed at his right hand.

‘I think that’s a very good idea,’ Patton smiled and stood. Knowing how exhausted Virgil always was after a panic attack, it would not be long before he was too tired to sit upright. Patton picked up the wet clothes and towel and shoved them in the laundry basket then selected the biggest, fluffiest towel from the rail.

He turned back to the tub and smiled. Virgil had dropped his head to his knees and was blinking slowly. ‘It’s not naptime just yet, honey,’ Patton said quietly and reached out to Virgil’s hands to pull him up.

Virgil’s sudden exhaustion made him pliable, and there was little protest as Patton stood him up and wrapped the towel snuggly around his shoulders. It was large enough that it trailed down to his knees. No matter how often Patton saw his baby wrapped up in a fluffy towel with damp hair and sleepy eyes, the image was just as overwhelmingly precious every time.

‘Big step, baby.’ Patton carefully guided him to step over the bath edge and onto the floor. Virgil was wobbly on his feet so Patton kept his arm wrapped tightly around him as he unplugged the bath, then walked them out into the hallway.

By the time they had reached Virgil’s room, the boy’s head was leant heavily on Patton’s side as they shuffled through the door and over to the bed. ‘Okay, sweetheart, sit here while I get you some PJs.’

Within minutes Patton was lying on the bed with Virgil tucked up against him in his skeleton onesie. He wasn’t tired himself but he always stayed by Virgil’s side during naptime in case he woke up still regressed and panicked about being alone. That and he couldn’t get enough of his baby’s cute little squeaks and snuffles as he drifted off to sleep.

Virgil’s head was on his chest, and Patton’s fingers were combing through his hair slowly. He watched with adoration as Virgil’s body gradually melted into him minute-by-minute. The only sounds were both of their deep breathing and the gentle suckling of Virgil’s pacifier.

Then there was a babbled whine that was barely more than a whisper.

‘Did you try to say something, angel?’ Patton whispered, not wanting to interrupt the quiet.

‘No leab,’ came the tiny squeak. Fingers curled into Patton’s shirt.

A soft smile worked its way onto Patton’s lips and he massaged his fingers over Virgil’s scalp soothingly. ‘I’m not leaving, baby. Promise.’

Virgil was asleep within seconds.

oOo

Virgil slowly became aware of the world. His eyes were still closed, but he knew he was lying down on his warm mattress. He breathed in deep through his nose and moved his tongue experimentally over the pacifier in his mouth, frowning. It was kind of nice but mostly it just felt wrong. He blew out harshly through his mouth, causing the pacifier to shoot out.

‘Ouch!’

Virgil’s eye flew open.

He had failed to realise that the “mattress” he was lying on was, in fact, Patton’s chest. His pacifier had just shot at high-speed right into Patton’s hand.

‘Oh shit, sorry,’ Virgil quickly apologised.

It was met with a chuckle that shook Virgil’s body. ‘Well, I guess you’re not a baby anymore.’

Virgil blushed and pushed himself off of Patton, sending a little guilty smile to him. ‘Guess not.’

Patton’s responding smile was soft and adoring and Virgil had to look down to avoid melting into him again. He scooted up to lean against the head of his bed by Patton’s shoulder. ‘How long was I asleep?’

‘Less than an hour, I think,’ Patton said and hoisted himself up to lean against the headboard beside him. ‘Do you remember anything that happened?’

Virgil’s stomach twisted at the memory of Roman’s laughing face and he pulled his onesie sleeves down over his hands. How could he forget? He nodded once, not trusting himself to speak with a steady voice.

‘Do you think you could tell me exactly what you remember?’ Patton asked tentatively.

Virgil snapped his gaze onto him, chagrinned.

‘Kiddo, I’m not trying to embarrass you.’ Patton held his hands up in surrender. ‘It’s just that when you come out of your regression you don’t tend to remember all of it.’

Admittedly, Patton was right. Virgil sighed and dropped his head back against the headboard in exasperation. He hoped it hid how his cheeks were warming. ‘I, y’know, had a - an accident,’ Virgil forced the word through gritted teeth. ‘Then Ro was a jerk.’

‘Uh - okay,’ Patton sighed, clearly giving up on a reprimand. ‘Anything else?’

Virgil bit his lip and rolled his head on the headboard to glance at Patton for any hints. His shirt was visibly damp.

‘Oh, yeah,’ Virgil blinked. ‘Bathtime.’

‘Bathtime,’ Patton nodded and smiled down at him. Virgil’s chest was warm with the fond memory and he felt his lips pull into a small smile.

Bathtime had become one of his favourite things to do with Patton, even if it usually followed his least favourite part of his regression. It was always full of laughter and feeling loved and Patton singing to him and it was always just them. Plus, his papa never left him alone at bathtime.

When they had first introduced it to their dynamic that one night, Virgil had felt humiliated after coming out of his headspace (the fact that he had let Patton undress him was enough to make him splutter as an adult) but he had gotten used to it over the past couple of weeks. Now the feelings of comfort overcame any residual embarrassment.

‘Do you remember the panic attack?’ Patton asked quietly.

A cold, empty feeling washed over his whole body and Virgil curled his nails into his palms harshly. He had had a panic attack. Logan had helped him breathe, Patton had hugged him in the hallway, and Roman… had apologised. A lot. And cried.

With a gulp, Virgil realised maybe Roman hadn’t been as cruel as he first remembered.

‘Sorry,’ Virgil whispered. He felt awful for being such a burden on all of his family members.

‘Don’t be sorry, kiddo.’ Patton’s hand rested on his shoulder. ‘I know having panic attacks can’t be very fun for you.’

Virgil shook his head and then promptly dropped it to Patton’s shoulder without a word. He stubbornly refused to acknowledge his need for physical contact when he was an adult, but it was so addictive having the need pandered to so much when he was regressed that he couldn’t stop himself from seeking it out. Thankfully, Patton never said a word about it.

‘You’ve been having quite a few of them recently,’ Patton said carefully.

It was too obvious from Patton’s tone that he meant to keep talking about it and Virgil felt his shoulders tense up to the point of aching. He started scratching at his thigh through his onesie. They both knew why he was having more panic attacks recently; they always followed an accident.

Virgil stayed silent in the desperate hope that Patton would see that he was uncomfortable and drop it.

‘Oh, hey, could you maybe pass me one of your stuffies?’ Patton asked nonchalantly.

Virgil frowned and raised his head from Patton’s shoulder to send him a questioning look.

Patton’s face was far too innocent. ‘I just want something to do with my hands.’

Though sceptical, Virgil nodded and reached to the corner of the bed where he kept his soft toys. He grabbed the first one he felt and shoved it into Patton’s lap. A jolt of childish excitement coursed through him when he saw that it was Meeko, his raccoon plush. Not enough to trigger his regression, but enough to calm his nerves slightly.

‘Thank you,’ Patton said, though he didn’t move to pick it up.

Meanwhile, Virgil’s hand had not retreated from the toy in Patton’s lap and he ran his fingers absently over the fur, the scratching at his jeans long-forgotten.

‘So,’ Virgil started awkwardly. He didn’t think distraction would work this time around, but it was at least worth a shot. ‘Do you wanna go finish the movie or?’

Patton sighed and Virgil closed his eyes, knowing what was coming.

‘Honey, we need to talk about what’s been happening.’

Virgil huffed and turned his head away from Patton. He knew his avoidance of the matter over the past two weeks had to come to an end eventually, but he wasn’t ready for it yet. Though, would he ever really be ready to talk about his deepest insecurity?

‘I know you’re embarrassed,’ Patton said quietly, sympathetic, ‘but it’s affecting your anxiety. I don’t think we can afford to ignore it anymore.’

Virgil knew that. Of course he knew it, at least on some level. But it was so humiliating.

‘I don’t wanna have a big conversation about it,’ he grumbled, staring adamantly at the wall.

‘Okay, well then let’s not make it big.’ Patton’s tone was nothing but accommodating and understanding. ‘How about I just ask you some simple questions? You can even answer with just one word if you want to.’

Virgil’s dramatic sigh of defeat could have rivalled Roman’s. It was practically impossible to keep up his petulance in the face of such undying support.

Looking down at the plush in Patton’s lap, Virgil wrapped Meeko’s tail around his fingers. Well, it was as good a time as any. He nodded stiffly.

‘Great, thank you, Vee,’ Patton said sincerely. He took a deep breath. ‘Was it your first accident when I found you in the hallway two weeks ago?’

Virgil clenched his jaw. God, they were really having this discussion. ‘No,’ he mumbled.

A noise of surprise met his ears and Virgil quickly shoved the hood of his onesie up. It didn’t do much to hide his blush but it at least felt comforting.

‘I’ve been your papa for three months,’ Patton said, confused, ‘how did you hide this from me?’

The fact that Patton was keeping track of how long he’d been Virgil’s caregiver was heartening, and it made Virgil breathe a bit easier.

‘I guess I’ve had a lot of practice.’ He pulled Meeko from Patton’s lap and held the toy to his own chest. It was obvious Patton hadn’t wanted it for himself, anyway.

‘Has this always been a problem?’

‘Yeah,’ Virgil sighed. He tugged on Meeko’s ears, still facing away from Patton. ‘B-but only when I’m regressed,’ he hastily added.

‘All right.’ Patton’s voice was gentle and kind. It soothed the fast pace of Virgil’s heart. ‘Do you know why it happens?’

The reasons were seared into his mind. Virgil had figured it out years ago, but it never got easier to accept them. They were stupid reasons. Reasons he couldn’t get his regressed self to shake no matter how much logic he applied to them in his adult mindset.

Virgil shrugged.

‘Virgil,’ Patton warned. It was quiet and soft and not harsh whatsoever. Still, it never failed to break Virgil’s resolve. ‘No matter what you say, I won’t be judgemental or upset. I just want to understand, sweetie.’

It was the nickname that did it. Virgil groaned under his breath and pulled Meeko up to stroke the softness against his cheek in comfort. There was no use in delaying it. He just wanted this talk to be over with as soon as possible.

‘I’m not very aware in my body when I’m… like that. I can’t feel it building up until it’s too late. And I couldn’t make myself go even if I could feel it because little me is scared of the stupid bathroom.’ He finished in a grumble, hating every word he had just said. Why was he so pathetic?

Patton’s hand rested gently on his own and he realised he had been clawing at his onesie leg. He looked down and saw that he had abandoned Meeko on the bed, only for Patton to then pick the toy up and press it back into Virgil’s hand.

Virgil hesitantly peeked up at Patton through his bangs, forcing a tiny smile of thanks.

Patton smiled sadly and brought his hand up to Virgil’s cheek. ‘What is it that’s so scary about the bathroom?’

Wasn’t that a great question? As an adult, Virgil thought it was an utterly ridiculous fear. But apparently the regressed version of him hadn’t gotten the memo.

‘It’s stupid,’ Virgil mumbled.

‘Not if it upsets you,’ Patton added without hesitation. He was too supportive.

Virgil ran his fingers against Meeko’s fur. ‘I - I’m scared I’ll get trapped in there alone.’

‘That’s not silly at all.’ Patton laid his hand on Virgil’s back and massaged gently.

‘And I’m scared you’ll disappear when I’m in there,’ Virgil rushed to say under his breath.

‘But I would never -’

‘I know!’ Virgil snapped and clutched his toy tightly. ‘I know you don’t ever abandon me, I know it’s physically impossible for you to vanish, and I know it’s stupid. But,’ he shrugged exaggeratedly, ‘apparently, dumb baby Virgil is still terrified.’

The hand on Virgil’s back circled at a steady pace and his breath rushed out of him shakily. He slunk down on his mattress and laid his head on Patton’s arm, his whole body feeling like lead. It turned out having a panic attack and discussing your biggest secret on the same day was pretty exhausting.

‘You can’t be so harsh on yourself, Vee,’ Patton whispered, wrapping his arm around Virgil’s shoulders. ‘When you’re little you have separation anxiety. And Logan said you don’t really understand object permanence, either. So of course you’re gonna be scared when you can’t see your Papa or Mama.’

Virgil pouted and pulled Meeko up to his chin. That made a bit of sense, he supposed.

‘Can’t I come in with you?’ Patton asked. ‘Now that you’ve gotten used to bathtime, maybe it won’t be so bad.’

‘It’s not that.’ Virgil shook his head against Patton’s arm. ‘It’s shy bladder syndrome,’ he mumbled, praying to God that Patton knew what that was and he wouldn’t have to stumble through a definition.

Patton made a small, ambiguous hum then went quiet.

A couple of minutes went by and the only indication that Patton hadn’t fallen asleep was his hand rubbing up and down Virgil’s arm. Virgil thought Patton had finally had his fill of this conversation and breathed a quiet sigh of relief, letting himself relax into Patton’s side.

‘And what about the bedwetting?’ Patton suddenly asked.

Virgil’s cheeks instantly flooded with heat and he pulled himself off of Patton with Meeko still nuzzled under his chin. ‘What about it?’ he hissed in exasperation. He’d had enough humiliation for one day (and for his whole life, really).

Patton either didn’t notice Virgil’s annoyance or chose not to react to it. ‘I’m pretty sure it only happens if you’re regressed before bed, right?’

Virgil really wished Patton hadn’t phrased that as a question. He dropped his hands to his lap so that he could observe Meeko as if the stuffed raccoon was the most interesting thing in the world. Sometimes he hated the fact that he hated lying. Silence didn’t exactly work in his favour when avoiding difficult questions.

Patton’s hand rested tentatively on Virgil’s head. His hood was gently pulled down and Virgil angled his face away from Patton. He needed to maintain some form of dignity in this, even if it was only small.

‘This isn’t just a regression problem is it?’ Patton asked knowingly. It was quiet. Sorrowful. Pitying.

Virgil gritted his teeth, his eyes burning as he stared at the wall.

Patton sighed. ‘Kiddo, you’ve got to talk to me.’

Meeko was stretched tightly as Virgil tugged on his tail without remorse.

‘Do you wet the bed often?’ Patton asked more clearly.

Something hot and dense filled Virgil’s throat.

‘Baby, please -’

‘Yes,’ Virgil growled, pained. He shut his eyes tightly, hating how such a simple nickname from Patton’s mouth had immediately sent tears to his eyes.

‘Okay, that’s okay,’ Patton said delicately.

‘It’s not, though,’ Virgil whispered, then clicked his mouth shut at how broken it sounded. He pulled Meeko harder. Why didn’t Patton understand? It wasn’t okay. It was scary and embarrassing!

‘It is okay,’ Patton insisted. ‘How long has it been a problem?’

‘Years,’ Virgil mumbled miserably.

‘Virgil…’ There was the pity again. ‘Why didn’t you tell one of us?’

Virgil’s eyes flew wide and snapped onto Patton in disbelief. The older side seemed taken aback by the sudden heat directed at him.

‘Why do you think?!’ Virgil yelled hysterically, yanking Meeko’s tail harshly.

He heard a rip.

Virgil’s heart stopped as he looked down to see Meeko’s tail hanging limply in one of his hands, completely torn from the rest of the toy.

The tears that had been steadily welling in his eyes finally spilled over and dripped down to the white cotton stuffing in his lap.

‘Oh, honey,’ Patton cooed sadly and wrapped his arms around him.

Virgil sniffled and threw the ruined toy to the end of his bed. ‘It’s fine.’ His voice was shaky and high-pitched.

‘It’s okay if it’s not fine,’ Patton whispered.

‘W-whatever,’ Virgil choked, then broke down into tears a second later.

‘We can fix him,’ Patton reassured, stroking his hair. ‘Everything’s okay, my little Stormcloud.’

Virgil collapsed against him in defeat. He was too exhausted to be angry.

‘I’m sorry for pushing you.’ Patton kissed his head. ‘We don’t need to talk about it anymore.’

A strangled whimper escaped Virgil and he quickly hid his face against Patton’s chest and clung onto him. He had gotten used to crying a lot recently due to his littlespace, but at that moment he could tell he was not regressed. He decided it hurt so much more to cry when he was big. It felt like years’ worth of embarrassment and loneliness and frustration and fear were all suddenly crashing down on him.

After a few minutes of being held by Patton, Virgil’s tears had subsided. His head felt a lot clearer after getting it out of his system.

‘Are you tired of dealing with such a crybaby yet?’ Virgil mumbled into Patton’s shirt, which was now wet from his tears.

Patton’s fingers carded through his hair gently. ‘I’m never going to be tired of being here for you, Virgil.’

Virgil’s lips pulled into a small smile, but it didn’t quite feel genuine.

‘Can I tell Logan everything you’ve told me?’ Patton asked.

‘Ha,’ Virgil laughed humourlessly, some unpleasant emotion swirling in his chest. ‘Sure. While you’re at it, how about you go and tell Janus and Remus too?’ His voice shook. Whether it was from anger, fear, or his tears, he wasn’t sure. ‘I’m sure they’d love to hear all about it.’

‘You know I would never do that.’ Patton sounded hurt and guilt flooded Virgil. ‘I’m not doing any of this to upset you.’

‘I - I know,’ Virgil whispered and pulled his head up from Patton’s chest to look at him apologetically. ‘Sorry.’

Patton shook his head lightly and cupped Virgil’s cheek. ‘You’ve been dealing with this on your own for too long. Mama - Logan and I want to help you.’

‘You do?’ Virgil asked meekly.

‘Of course,’ Patton nodded. ‘We don’t like seeing you so upset whenever you have an accident. We want to do something about it.’

Virgil’s heart leapt in excitement and he pushed himself to sit upright. ‘You can stop it from happening?’ he asked.

The glimmer of hope in his chest was quickly snuffed out by the way Patton’s eyes darted to the side to avoid his pleading gaze. His mouth opened and closed silently for a few seconds.

‘Well,’ Patton finally croaked then cleared his throat. ‘Let’s just - lemme speak to Logan then we’ll see.’

Virgil’s body slumped a little. He knew that tone. That was the same tone Patton used when he told Roman “maybe” instead of “no” to spare his feelings.

‘So will you let me speak to him?’ Patton asked again, looking at him expectantly.

Virgil bit his lip. What else did he have to lose? ‘Yeah, okay,’ he whispered.

The relieved smile on Patton’s face almost made it worth it.

Patton opened his arms wide. ‘Can I have a hug now?’

He hadn’t even finished his sentence before Virgil crashed into him.

oOo

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

AO3 link | Next chapter

#agere virgil #little virgil #little roman #ts agere #sanders sides agere #cg patton #cg logan #little/big series #little/big series fics #little accidents big developments #agedre roman

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the-fiction-witch · 4 years

Text

NSFW 30: Benny Watts

1. Where did they lose their virginity?

In a hotel room with some girl who showed him some interest in him while he was doing a tournament

2. Do they have any kinks or fetishes?

He likes spanking, and screaming. he adores when you make noise for him he could listen to you for hours and he likes spanking you leaving right red marks all over your butt to remind you that your his and only his.

3. What is the weirdest place they've had sex?

In a plane bathroom while on the way home from a trip.

4. What is their favourite position?

from behind!

5. Are they dominant, submissive, or switch?

Dominant as hell! however, if you ride him or suck him off he becomes a submissive mess.

6. Have they had any one night stands?

Lots! so many he literally doesn't remember them all.

7. Would they be more likely to do it in the bed, on the couch, on the floor, or somewhere else?

In bed. he loves doing it in bed but he does enjoy standing too

8. Have they had sex in a public place?

not really the closest is having sex in his car but other then that not really.

9. Have they ever been caught masturbating?

Not yet. But he is very paranoid

10. What does their favourite sexy underwear (to wear) look like?

Yours!! Ohh the first time was an accident he picked up your underwear from the floor in the morning after a lustful evening and went to get his coffee, he got all the way to half a cup drunk before he noticed he was in your panties and now... he has a habit of doing it in secret sometimes even if he's away, it's cosy and comfy and he makes sure he's constantly reminded of you. Not that you mind because you know if he's wearing your panties under his jeans you know he won't be fooling around with any girls whiles hes away.

11. How often do they have sex?

about once or twice a week. but its usually very intense and very long it'll be like a clear your evening benny's coming home and he's horny kinda situation you'll be lucky if you get dinner those nights because your both far too busy, and of course if he's away for a long time he'll make sure he makes it up to you when he's home.

12. Is there anybody right now they'd like to have sex with?

You of course.

13. Do they like giving oral?

He loves it! He adores burring his head between your legs and watching you go crazy hearing you scream his name like a banshee.

14. Do they like receiving oral?

Not really, he's not that keen on it. I mean obviously, if you ask he'll, of course, let you if you wanted but he prefers other things he doesn't like the loss of control and how overwhelmed and desperate he gets, he doesn't like you have so much power over him.

15. What is the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to them during sex?

He got the hiccups!! and it was the cutest thing ever!! Benny being this sexual manly man with his open shirts and chains and facial hair, being all cool sexy, he was having sex with you rather roughly in missionary at the time describing all the bad things he was going to do to you and suddenly 'Hiccup!' and it was so goddam cute!!

16. What is a song they'd listen to during hard/rough/kinky sex?

I can't get no satisfaction!

17. What is a song they'd listen to during soft/slow/passionate sex?

and then he kissed me, Or Love is strange.

18. Are they into roleplay or dress-up during sex?

Not really why would he wanna be anyone else if he can be benny watts?

19. Would they prefer sex in the tub or sex in the shower?

Shower!! he loves shower sex. actually loves watching you shower and having you watch him shower luckily his shower is in the living room so he can get comfy on the sofa and watch you and you can do so too but normally he gets maybe half done in the shower before he invites you to jump in with him.

20. If they could have sex with anyone, living or dead, who would it be?

You, of course, benny has been with a lot of girls for little relationships and one night stands but he picked you and you're his little snuggle bug and he's very very happy with you.

21. Have they ever had a threesome? If not, would they?

Maybe... Benny is open to it. and you had to admit it was an idea you hadn't minded thinking about Maybe you and Clio could torcher benny and make him go crazy? Or you could get tied up and have benny and harry use you as much as they wanted too?

22. Do they/would they use sex toys?

Is rope a toy? if so he loves it, he loves tieing you up to the bed so you can't push him away when he feels like burning his head between your legs ponding you like crazy, and he loves tieing your hands bending your back before he gives you a good spanking

23. Have they ever given someone a dirty text/letter/picture?

He's not one for being dirty while not with you, but an occasional dirty phone call if he's missed you too badly when he's away.

24. Would they have sex with their best friend?

Maybe... he'd think about it.

25. Is there anything they do after sex? (ex: smoke, eat, drink, cuddle)

He cuddles you tightly and nuzzles onto your skin while he calms down and can breathe again before falling asleep on you.

26. What is something that will never fail to get them horny?

Talk dirty to him... or well Talk chess to him. If you sit on by the chessboard and start sexually saying chess moves to him he will get harder then a rock 'Rook To E6 Benny darling'

27. Do they prefer morning sex or night sex?

He loves sex at night when its dark, cosy and warm in his apartment. He isn't opposed to morning sex but he struggles to function without coffee.

28. What is their favourite body part on the opposite sex?

breasts... he loves boobs

29. What is their favourite body part on the same sex?

He had never really thought about it but he likes hands

30. Do they watch porn/read dirty magazines?

Benny does have a rather... interesting few magazines hidden under his bed, some naughty little magazines that he gets out of an evening when he feels a little lonely. He used to keep them out on the tables in his apartment but people kept asking questions.

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ubernoxa · 4 years

Text

The Token: A Guns N’ Roses FanFiction

Chapter 11: Rhythm Guys Do It Better

Story Summary: Story inspired by the movie She’s the Man. A female Duff is tired of dealing with the bullshit of trying to make it on the strip as a female bassist. In a desperate attempt to make it big doing what she does, she cuts her hair and mascardes as Duff. What’s the wors that could happen?

Chapter Summary: Chapter title pretty much explains what’s gonna happen 🤷🏼‍♀️

Masterlist

Taglist: @viralwolf02 @littlemisscare-all @smokeandmirrorz @aratbaby @slashscowboyboots @achiweyow @queen-crue

I could still feel my cheeks blushing as I waved goodbye to Izzy as he dropped me off in front of my apartment.

“Welcome back Mich-Duff,” I practically froze at Macy’s words.

At first I wondered why she corrected herself, but once I stepped into the living room, finally able to see into the kitchen, I knew why.

“Duff, nice to meet you! My names Henry,” I offered Henry a quick wave, but I froze before I headed towards my (Michelle’s) bedroom.

Henry was one of Walter’s childhood best friends. Henry had met Michelle on countless occasions. He has been to this apartment before several times. He knew which door lead to Michelle’s room.

I was fucked.

Macy must have noticed my predicament when she handed me a grocery bag filled with god knows what.

“Duff, can you bring this to Michelle’s room? It’s some clothes I was going to donate, but if they fit her then she can have them,” I simply nodded before grabbing the bag and heading to ‘Michelle’s’ bedroom.

I let a sigh escape me once I was inside.

I put my bass and the bag Macy gave me on my bed before I quickly changed out of my clothing from the night before.

Originally I was going to wear a simple shorts and tank top because of the burning weather outside, but Izzy’s antics last night made that impossible. I unknowing let a soft moan escape my lips as I traced one of the many hickies that Izzy left from the night prior.

As I stared at myself I felt my hand slowly reach for my lips, all thoughts of how truly fucked I was with Henry being in the apartment had completely evaporated.

The only thing on my mind was last night.

How my heart raced at the look Izzy gave me when he realized that Slash had passed out for the night. The feeling of his lips on mine, the thought of him holding me down as he throbbed inside of me.

I was pulled from my thoughts as I heard a knock on the door.

“Hey, can I come in?”

“Yeah,” I quickly replied at the sound of Macy’s voice.

Before she could open the door, I wrapped myself with a blanket that was on my bed. Not to hide the face I was naked, but to hide the hickies that scattered my body. As roommates we had seen echo their naked undress of times, it was almost normal.

“What are you......” she froze as her eyes remained locked on me. I watched as a smirk formed on her face.

“Ohh my god!” She gasped as she took in the purple hickies that stained my skin.

“Shhh shhh,” I tried to hush her, but I wasn’t entirely successful.

“Who?” She immediately shot back.

“Just some guy...” I trailed off before digging through my dresser trying to find a scarf to cover my neck. I wouldn’t have guessed Izzy would have been so...territorial. I could tell that it turned him on as much as he turned me on as he painted my empty canvas of a body with splashes of purple.

“No, I know you Michelle. You wouldn’t do it with just a anyone...who?” Macy shot back even faster. She was giddy as a school girl as she talked.

“Izzy, I fucked Izzy last night,” I felt a smile plaster on my face as I finished getting ready.

She gasped at my comment as I looked at myself in the mirror. The scarf and long sleeves weren’t ideal for the summer heat, but that was Izzy’s fault. I was going to make sure I got even.

“You didn’t!” She seemed more shocked the second time I told her. Yes I fucked Izzy Stradlin.

“But I thought you hated him!” She immediately shot back.

“It’s more of his Indiana brother..Axl,” I replied back. Now that I thought about it, I really didn’t hate Axl.

“Ohhh God Michelle, you’ve got yourself into a pickle,” Macy teased, our laughter erupting and filling the room.

“Yes Macy...fucking my bandmate is my problem....not the fact that I’m dressing up as a guy to perform at gigs and lying to half my band,” our laughter only grew after I whispered that right back to her.

After a couple of seconds our laughter died down and Macy said, “Wait...WHOAH WHOAH WHOAH”

“What?”

“Who else knows?” She quickly asked.

“Knows what?” I quickly shot back.

“Who else in the band knows? Axl? Ohh my god how are you still standing? I assumed Axl would either kick you out of the band or kill you? How are you not dead?”

“No, it’s not Axl who knows...it’s Slash,” I sighed and leaned back on my bed. I tried not to think about how Axl would react. I agreed with her, Axl would kick me out of the band. I might as enjoyed it while it lasts.

“And...how did he react...”

“He seemed...confused....and annoyed....and mad,” I admitted feeling like trash for lying to Slash.

“And ...how are you guys now?” I wished Macy would stop digging and asking questions. The thing is, I couldn’t blame her. I would be doing the same if I was in her position.

“I...I think we are okay? He seemed pissed, but then his snake seemed to like me...so....I guess he warmed up to me,” I mumbled as I fidgeted with my thumbs.

“His snake?” I looked up at Macy and by the expression on her face I knew her head was in the gutter.

“His pet snake, not his dick...Jesus Christ get you head out of the gutter,” I scolded her throwing the bag she gave me earlier in her face.

“Ohh ok ok,” Macy put her hands up in defense with a smile still on her face.

I jokingly groaned before lying back down on the bed.

“By the way...put this on,” Macy tossed the plastic bag towards me, and I immediate opened it to find a bright blue wig.

“Thought you could use a new wig. Sorry it’s not brown...blue was all I could get on such short notice,” Macy shrugged.

“I’ll look ridiculous in it....” I softly replied.

“Nah...you can pull it off. It’ll look punk-ish. Come on now....we gotta get moving. Walter and Henry want to go to the music shop around the corner, and I’m not going without you. Also if anyone asks, Duff is passed out on your bed,” Macy said before she hurried out of my room.

To be honest, I would give the wig a solid 9 out of 10. It was far less itchy than the old one I had which I now assumed to be in some junkyard amongst other trash. Don’t tell Macy, but she was right, it did look pretty punk. It only took me a couple of minutes to realize what was actually going on, and why Macy made sure to have me come.

It was awkward to say the least. Something was going on between Macy and Walter, and I wondered if this was originally supposed to be some sort of double date. It wouldn’t have been the first time Walter had hit on Macy, but it would have been the first time he asked her out. By the way she quickly joined me in the back seat, I had a feeling her answer was something along the lines of ‘No Walter I don’t want to date you’.

I was able to ditch the awkwardness once we arrived to the shop. Saying it was massive was an understatement. It was without a doubt the biggest on the strip. It was two stories tall and not only did it sell instruments, it sold sheet music and records as well. It was heaven.

I wandered the store aimlessly, thankful to be alone. I had somehow found a way into the bass section where I admired the basses that I couldn’t even dream of buying. This is where the greats bought their equipment, and sadly they were at a not so great price. Four months rent was a little steep for a bass right now, and that wasn’t even the most expensive one.

“Walter was saying you played bass...I thought you were a drummer?” I was once again pulled from my thoughts as the unwanted voice began to start a conversation with me. An unwanted conversation, if I may add.

“Yes to both...I also play guitar too,” I added once again sending a small smile back to Henry. I felt a smile escape my lips as I watched him inspect the bass guitars. He then spent the next couple minutes talking about his favorite bassists. This definitely caught me off guard. I didn’t take him for a music guy! Maybe this wouldn’t be too awkward. If only he stopped trying to flirt and touch my lower back.

He motioned for me to show him. I took one of the basses from the bottom row (aka the cheapest) and began to play a short melody from the first song that came to my head. He didn’t seem impressed, but I didn’t care. I continued to strum as I felt the music flow through my veins and hit my heart. I was a snake charmer, but instead of charming snakes it was my own heart.

“Do you mainly play pop music?” I rolled my eyes and turned towards him. Did he seriously assume pop while I live near sunset strip.

“No rock,” I probably sounded a bit snappy, but really pop music?

I felt my heart stop as I heard a familiar voice in the shop. Steven was here, which meant the rest of the band would be here as well.

Fuck.

Atleast I would be safe in the bass guitar section, none of them played bass...at least I don’t think any of them did.

“Hey...Michelle?,” I turned to see Steven standing by me. Fuck...part of me was hoping that the blue hair would help me stay incognito, but I was very wrong. If anything it did the opposite.

“Hey,” I froze for a second. Did Michelle know Steven? I racked my brain for a couple of second. Fuck.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I decided to play it safe and pretend I didn’t know him. Better safe than sorry.

“Steven! I’m the drummer in Duff’s band,” His smile faded, but never disappeared.

“Congrats on your show last night I heard it was amazing!” I cheered back. This felt weird, no it felt wrong. I could feel my heart exploding out of my chest as I spoke to him. What if he recognized me? He was literally standing a foot away from me. The one thing I couldn’t change, no matter how much makeup I put on was my face was my face, and he was only a foot or two way from me.

“Yeah it was pretty insane! It felt like we were professionals, we had dancers and everything. You should come to our next gig! You’d love it! The after party was good too!”

“Duff came back this morning...I think he is still passed out back at the apartment,�� I laughed back trying to find anything to say.

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages? Any chance you could give Duff some more of your coffee? The caffeine makes the band meetings so much more sufferable! Especially during those morning meetings when Axl rambles on and on,” I plastered on a fake smile and nodded along.

Fuck fuck fuck.

FUCK

“I’ve been here and there....I ran into some family problems at the coffee shop, so I don’t work there anymore,” I shrugged trying to play it cool. I wasn’t entirely lying. Betsie storming in and beating me up definitely cause family problems...I just didn’t get fired for that reason. I watched as his smile faded.

“Is that why you...” he gestured towards my hair, and I nodded.

“Why not? If it ended up bad, Macy would fix it,” I shrugged.

“I like it! Looks good. Perks of having a hairstylist as a roommate,” he replied and I nodded back.

“Hey, I’m Henry,” I looked over towards Henry who I completely forgot was here. I felt is arm tightly wrap around my waist as he pulled me in closer towards him. I was immediately frozen in place, trying to understand what was going on.

Why was he being possessive?

“You guys....dating?”

Before Steven could continue talking, I pushed myself out of his grip and responded, “no, he is JUST a friend of Walter’s”

I watched as Mark clenched his jaw at my comment.

“Izz, hey look who I found! Our favorite barista, back from the dead,” I couldn’t help but smile at his kind words.

I felt my cheeks redden the moment I saw Izzy. He looked so damn hot without an ounce of effort. He could be wearing dirty sweatpants and I would still think he was hot.

“Well...she is no longer a barista....” Steven trailed off, sending me an apologetic look.

“So what, you quit your job as a barista to live out your dream of being a blueberry,” Izzy’s laughter filled the room as he spoke. I wouldn’t lie, I was hiding a laugh.

“Hey, it’s punk okay,” I shrugged back.

“Is it also punk to wear a scarf and pants on one of the hottest days in the summer,” he teased back. He damn knew why I I had to wear this. He knew I had to hide the marks he made while I begged for him to fuck me.

“You know what...you’re right this outfit is not very punk of me,” I sassed back taking off the scarf and shirt. Leaving me standing in a thin camisole and skin tight pants, hickies in full display. I stood still with a large smirk plastered across my face.

“So Henry, do you play?” Steven asked trying to break the tension that had filled the room.

“Yeah, I play guitar. You?”

“Drummer, in a band?”

Before Henry could reply Izzy asked, “Are you a soloist or more of a rhythm guy?”

“Soloist! And no I’m not in a band, but I’m working on it”

I sent Izzy a confused look, only to receive a smirk on return. What the fuck was he thinking about?

I quickly tuned out Steven’s and Henry’s conversation, and paid attention to Izzy who was making me melt just by looking at me.

“Actually, Shelly...I have a quick guitar question, got a sec?” I nodded and followed Izzy towards the guitar section.

From behind me I heard Steven say, “We should stay behind, I have a feeling they are going to be doing a little more than talking about guitars. I don’t feel like watching what they are about to do,”

Before I knew it, Izzy pulled me into the bathroom and immediately locked the door behind him. In one quick motion he pinned me against the wall and I heard my clothes drop to the floor.

“Really Shelly? A soloist? We all know rhythm guys do it better in bed,” Izzy grunted into my ear earning soft uncontrollable moans to escape from my lips.

I wanted to make a snarky reply, but I couldn’t think of anything. My mind could only focus on one thing.

He was right.

Holy shit, he was fucking right.

Rhythm guys do it better.

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shadowywerewolfqueen · 4 years

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I Cursed the Gloom That Set Upon Us

For Suptober Day 22. The full prompt was “I Cursed the Gloom That Set Upon Us, but I Know That I Love You So”. This piece is pretty in canon minus the love confession at the end and I’m completely ignoring Cas’ deal with the Shadow in lieu of Cas and Dean getting a happy ending.

“Dean, you and Cas need to fix things,” Sam said as they sat at the table sipping on beers.

Dean slammed his bottle on the table. “You know, that’s exactly what Rowena said when we were in Hell. Why does everybody keep saying that?”

“Because the two of you don’t do well when you’re angry at each other. You guys are better off working together. Besides, you owe Cas an apology,” Sam said, afraid of how Dean would react.

“I owe him an apology? He’s the one that screwed up with Belphegor and getting the crook. Not to mention the whole mess with Jack and losing mom sits squarely on his shoulders,” Dean replied angrily.

Sam looked at Dean with one of his famous bitch faces. “Dean, Cas saved us from Belphegor and you know that! He was only using us to make a stab for the throne of Hell.” Sam was silent for a moment before adding, “It’s not Cas’ fault mom died.”

The chair toppled backwards as Dean lurched to his feet. He slammed his palms on the table and scowled at his brother. “HOW THE HELL CAN YOU SAY THAT?”

Sam was unfazed by his brother’s outburst. “Because Cas wasn’t the one to kill her.”

“No he didn’t, but he didn’t tell us about Jack and losing his soul! We all know how dangerous someone without a soul is! He should have told us! I never would have let mom near Jack if I had known the kid was walking around without a soul,” Dean said, his voice shaking with fury.

“He was just trying to protect Jack! Neither of us can say we wouldn’t have done the same thing! I was soulless and look what you did to get me back! Hell, I drank demon blood and look how hard you fought for me! You were a damn demon and I made some poor choices to make sure I got you back! We do anything to save each other, so why would you expect any less from Cas to protect Jack?” Sam stared at his brother, trying to make Dean see reason.

“He should have told us the truth about Jack! At least then we could have been more cautious around the kid,” Dean argued.

Sam frowned. “Oh yeah, because you definitely err on the side of caution. Dean, you didn’t even want to give Jack a chance when he was first born. Cas was probably afraid you would have tried to kill him again.”

“Mom is dead because of Jack,” Dean stated.

Sam shook his head. “You’re right, she is but we know- you know, if Jack had had a soul, he would have never hurt her. Dean, I let you get turned into a fucking vampire when I was soulless. You can’t blame Jack and you can’t blame Cas. He’s a Winchester, he didn’t exactly have the best role models when it comes to this kind of shit.”

Dean huffed and looked away. “He still should have said something. We could have avoided all of this.”

“Dean, quit acting like a child. You’re not pissed about Cas not telling us about Jack, not really. You’re pissed because Cas kept a secret from you. You’re pissed because Cas didn’t confide in you,” Sam replied.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean snapped.

Sam stood from his chair. “I know how you feel… about Cas, how you really feel. Instead of hiding behind your anger, maybe you could actually admit to yourself and to him how you truly feel. I get feelings aren’t your thing but don’t you think Cas deserves to know the truth?” He walked out the kitchen without another word.

A few days later found Dean and Cas walking down a beaten trail through Purgatory. Dean was mostly silent, still unsure about his feelings towards Cas. He was furious at the angel for his role in Mary’s death and then for leaving when things got hard. But, somewhere deeper down, were other feelings. Feelings that Sam had hinted at in the bunker’s kitchen.

“I hate being in this place. Purgatory has a way of heightening your feelings,” Cas said softly.

Dean glanced at the angel before looking away. “And what feelings are those? I know right now anger is at the top of my list.”

Cas looked at Dean, hurt swimming in his eyes. “Well, this place will bring that out in you. Guilt is at the top of mine. Guilt. Being back here reminds me of my past transgressions. It was my fault the Leviathan got out. It was my fault we were here the first time. I carry that guilt every day.”

Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat. “What else do you feel guilt about?”

“For the people I didn’t manage to save and therefore lost them,” Cas replied stoically.

Dean licked his lips. He wasn’t sure who Cas was talking about but he had an idea. “I know you're sorry, Cas. About Bel, about Mom.”

Cas looked at Dean, anger flickering across his features. “I was talking about Jack. I already apologized to you. You just refused to hear it.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “Sorry I brought it up. Maybe if you didn't just up and leave us.”

“You didn't give me a choice. You couldn't forgive me. And you couldn't move on. You were too angry. I left, but you didn't stop me,” Cas replied, a hard edge to his voice.

Dean was silent. Cas was right, Dean was angry. He was furious about mom and Jack. Sam was right, though, he was even angrier that Cas had never confided in him in the first place. After everything the two of them had been through, Dean was hurt that Cas didn’t trust him enough to talk to him. So, Dean did what he did best, he lashed out. He said the most hurtful things he could to Cas, causing the angel to leave which in turn hurt even more.

Dean could forgive Cas, he just didn’t want to. If he did, he would be forced to look at his true feelings for the angel. It was easy to hide behind anger, it was familiar to Dean. Admitting the truth, that was terrifying and Dean had no idea where he would land if he did tell Cas the truth.

Before Dean had a chance to say anything, the Leviathan blossoms came into view. Too bad the leviathan they had been following had led them into a trap. After a brief scuffle, Dean was knocked unconscious. When he woke up, Cas was gone and the blossoms were all burned to a crisp.

Dean pushed to his feet and stared at the blossoms in defeat. They had lost and now there was no other way to defeat Chuck. He looked around and called out, “CAS! CAS!” He started walking back to the rift, hoping to find Cas along the way.

He wandered for hours and still there was no sign of Cas. Dean was deep in the forest and he was losing hope every second. He pulled his phone out to check how much longer they had until the rift closed and was dismayed to see they had less than half an hour. Dean looked around again, the silence of the forest closing in around him. He let out a few gasps of air, trying to keep his emotions in check. He had to find Cas, he just had to. Even if he was angry, he couldn’t lose the angel.

He leaned against a tree and did something he hadn’t done in years. He prayed to his best friend. “Cas? Cas, I hope you can hear me... that wherever you are, it's not too late.” Dean licked his lips and said the words he should have told Cas a long time ago. “I should've stopped you. You're my best friend, but I just let you go. 'Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong.”

Dean exhaled sharply, trying to keep the tears from falling but it wasn’t working. He sniffled as he felt the wetness gathering in the corners of his eyes. He looked around, hoping to see the angel, but he was still hopelessly alone. He kneeled next to the tree, his legs unable to support his weight any longer. “I-- Ohh. I don't know why I get so angry. I just know -- I know that it's -- i-it's just always been there. And when things go bad, it just -- it comes out. And I can't -- I can't stop it.”

The first few tears were starting to slide down his cheeks as Dean finally admitted the truth he had been carrying inside. “No matter how -- how bad I want to, I just can't stop it. And -- and I-I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I'm sorry it took me so long -- I'm sorry it took me till now to say it. Cas, I'm -- I'm so sorry. Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me.”

Dean’s voice broke on the last word. He glanced around one final time and still no sign of Cas. He wiped the tears from his eyes and took a deep breath. There was one more thing he needed to say and there were a couple song lyrics that summed it up perfectly. “I cursed the gloom that set upon us, but I know that I love you so,” Dean prayed softly. He looked for Cas, hoping the angel would appear. He licked his lips and dried the last of his tears. “Okay.” He stood to his feet and started walking once again.

A few minutes later, a voice called out, “Dean!”

Dean hefted his gun and aimed but immediately dropped it when he realized who was nestled under a tree. Dean’s face lit up in relief and joy at seeing the angel. “Cas.”

Cas stood up and Dean couldn’t help but notice the dried blood on his face and the ripped clothes. Dean didn’t care about any of that as he pulled Cas into a tight hug, glad to know his angel was safe. Cas quickly explained what happened after Dean was knocked unconscious. Even though he was taken by leviathans, Cas managed to find a blossom and escape.

“You did it. You did it Cas,” Dean said,staring at his friend with pride.

Cas gave a single nod of his head. “Well, they’re still after me. We should hurry,” he said as he tucked the blossom back in his coat.

Dean looked at Cas and knew he had to tell him the truth. He didn’t know if Cas heard his prayer so he was going to make sure now. “Okay Cas, I need to say something.”

“You don’t have to say it. I heard your prayer,” Cas said before walking forward and sealing his mouth over Dean’s.

Dean dropped his gun as he wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist. He moved his lips against Cas’ and even though they were dry, the angel’s lips against his was the best feeling in the world. He pressed closer, wanting to feel as much of the angel’s body as possible. He tilted his head, allowing their lips to press even closer together.

When they finally broke apart, Dean was panting. Cas didn’t seem much better. They stared at each other, something bright shining in their eyes. Cas reached out and twined his fingers with Dean’s. “I love you too.”

Dean was so overwhelmed that all he could do was press his lips to Cas’ once more. Things weren’t completely fixed between them and they still had God to defeat but with Cas by his side, Dean knew he could conquer the world.

#suptober20 #My writing #my OTP #Destiel

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