#just shhhhhh. stop. slow down. shut up. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silly-thinkings · 3 years

Text

Venom/Reader x Batman pt.3

Thank you so much for reading! let me know what you think in the comments :3 Please do not repost my work. likes and reblogs are appreciated! ~~+~~

Y/N’s head gently swayed side to side as her typing began to slow down. “Y/N” She didn't respond, she felt woozy. Ready for sleep to take her to the clouds. “Y/N” Venom's voice dragged out in her head "Hmm?” “Oh for heaven's sake” Out of nowhere, Y/N slammed her head onto the table “Ow” annoyed she angrily stood from her desk and walked towards the mirror. “huh. That woke you up didn't it” Venom snarled in her head. Y/N put a hand over her nose “You didn't have to break anything. You could have called my name like a normal person.” “I was calling your name Y/N! You did not answer me” Venom faced her. He immediately noticed the bags under her eyes “You are tired. We should go home.” “I’m fine V.” Venom growled, “You are not fine!” "Shhhhhh. What did I say about raising your voice at work.” Venom opened his mouth to respond but stopped. His eyes squinted as he slowly snaked to the door. “Someone’s coming.” “Right. There are some papers that I need Bruce to sign.” Y/N picked up some papers and walked to the door. She opened it but Venom slammed it shut. “Now I most currently know you are out of it Y/n. You do see that I am still out here, and yet you almost exposed us.” Y/N placed a hand on her hair “you say that I need rest. Don't you know that applies to you too?” Y/N pointed an accusing finger at the Alien “I can't exactly sleep when we’re saving people in this city.” Venom kept his mouth shut. She’s tired because of him? Y/N noticed his face slightly falling “Venom, I can tell you are enjoying yourself in hero work. It brings a smile to my face that you’ve been threatening people less about eating their brains.” Venom moved his head side to side “Well… you do keep up with my chocolate cravings.” Y/N nodded “That's right. I’m doing my part and you’re doing yours. So-“ she let out a yawn “Don't worry about me too much ok?” Venom heard the person coming closer. He nuzzled his head on her cheek before disappearing. ~~~ Bruce cleared his throat as he stood behind the door with a heavy bouquet of flowers and a box of fancy chocolates that Alfred help him make. Well, more like he provided the extra ingredients while Alfred made them. After intensive research, The only thing Bruce found out was that Brains and Chocolate have phenylethylamine.

That could be the reason why Y/N ate the thing every single day. Maybe as a means to making Venom docile.

Bruce knocked at the door. He felt his palms sweat a little bit which confused him greatly. The plan was simple. Get close to Y/N and when Venom least expects it, he’d get the parasite out of her. He rose his hand up to knock at the door again but stopped. Why is this so difficult? He’d asked many women on dates before. He’s asked women to flat-out sleep with him. So why is this so hard when it came to Y/N?

The door opened. Y/N stared at a shocked Bruce.

“I told you he was out here. What does he want?”

Y/N shook her head “Bruce, just the man I wanted to see.” She was about to give him the paperwork but noticed the items he was holding “what’s this?”

Bruce adjusted his tie “These are for you Y/N.”

“Oh.” The two traded items. He took the papers while she took the flowers and chocolate. She felt butterflies fill her stomach “T-Thank you. But what is this for?”

“Is that chocolate? Huh. That bat has use to this city after all.”

Bruce scratched the back of his head “I was wondering if I can take you out on a date.”

“What?!”

Y/N felt her body heat up. Her hands began to shake. She backed away from Bruce placing the gifts down on her desk “calm down.” she whispered.

“Calm down! He’s buttering us up Y/N I do not trust this in the slightest.” Venom growled

Y/N let out a series of coughs hoping that Bruce didn’t hear the beast “w-what brought this on Bruce?”

Bruce’s eyes squinted. Is it attacking? Should he in-act his plan now? Bruce walked a bit closer “Well to be frank with you. I’ve been interested in a while.”

“You have?” Y/N perked up.

Bruce smiled “since the first day I met you actually Y/N” he gently placed his hands on hers only for her to jerk her hand back.

“Lies! He has something to gain from this. He.is.false.” Venom practically snarled in her head.

Y/N walked back to her chair and took a deep breath. She needed to find a way to calm Venom down before he took over. Panicked She looked at the box of chocolates and in a haste, she opened the box shoving a handful of chocolates in her mouth.

Bruce looked at her with his mouth slightly agape in shock. Her cheeked were puffed as she continued to eat.

“Oh my gosh. These are so… why are they good.”

Y/N’s body slowly returned to normal. She felt her trembling subside as the symbiont purred.

“Something is far different in these chocolates. He did something to them. Quick ask him.”

Y/N turned around so that she faced the wall to regain her composure. When she finally swallowed the last bit she turned back around and smiled at Bruce.

“Did you make these?” She asked tilting her head slightly.

Bruce nodded “Well. I had help from my Butler.”

“I must meet the Butler… Y/n what species of human is a Butler and why don’t we have one?”

Y/N covered her mouth as she let out a series of giggles.

“So, you’ve been interested in your secretary Mr. Wayne? How scandalous.” Y/N walked closer to him.

Bruce was actually impressed with the fact that she did all that and still carried the conversation like nothing happened. And judging by how she looked much calmer, he feels as though he’s calmed Venom. Good, that means his special chocolates worked. He himself walked closer to her, closing the space between them “well. Ever since you’ve entered my life you’ve made it interesting.” He wiped some chocolate off the edge of her mouth with his thumb “so? Dinner at my place? Friday night.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip as she smiled at him. She watched him press his thumb to his mouth without breaking eye contact.

“If you don’t say yes I’ll say it for you Y/N. If this is the kind of treatment we will receive with dating the Batman then accept.”

Y/N smirked. Didn’t he change his tune.

“sure, Friday night Bruce.”

Bruce nodded and walked out of the room. When he closed the door He bumped into a small figure.

“I didn’t know you liked Y/N In that way?” Tim smirked

Bruce felt heat rush to his cheeks “I well. Uhh.”

“It’s alright B. I think she’s good for you. Oh and there’s a meeting that starts in like 5 minutes.” Tim turned to walk away.

Did his other children think that way too? Should he tell them that he isn’t actually interested in Y/N, but the parasite that lived with her. *** Y/N’s head slumped over again. Her eyelids felt heavy.

“Y/N! Wake up.”

“Huh?! What. Oh.” Y/N yawned before resuming her work. Venom let out a disheveled sigh.

“Alright Y/N It is time to retire for the day.”

“Hold on. One more email.”

Y/N felt warmth throughout her body. Venom wanted to take over but she needed to get this last invitation out “hold on V. Let me just.”

She thought she was sending an email but Venom turned off the computer “it is 11 pm Y/N. Time to go home.”

Y/N sluggishly stood up. She stumbled out of the room as if she had one too many drinks “you just want to get out there and be a vigilante. Maybe encounter Batman since he gave you those chocolates~”

“No! I… I want to spoil you at home Y/N. I’ve been unfair to you. And you are tired.”

Y/N used the walls of the halls for support. She noticed her reflection on the floor. She had bags under her eyes, her skin a bit lighter, like the blood drained from her face. She got up and went into the elevator. Instead of pressing the first floor, she pressed the very top. “Venom?”

“This is a quicker way home. Trust me.” *** “Tim c’mon, let’s go. And no more coffee, Alfred is going to have a fit.” Dick stood from his seat and closed one of Tim’s laptops.

Dick went to WE to check on Tim and he was very right to do so. The boy had his face plastered on the screen like a zombie.

“Wait wait wait. Look. It’s Y/N”

Tim pointed to the screen. The two watched her practically stumble out of her room. “Why is she still here?” Dick leaned closer “is she drunk?”

“Beats me.” Tim watched her fall to the floor. The two were about to go help but immediately stopped when they saw what happened to her on-screen. Black tendrils appeared from her body, getting her back on her feet. Then a head appeared from her shoulder.

“N-no way… she’s. She is. They.” Tim got up from his chair. She’s his host. That explains so much.

Dick shook Tim “she’s headed for the roof.” He snapped out of his shock earlier than Tim. But was filled with questions. The two ran out of the room and into the stairs. They both grappled their way to the top and opened the door.

Y/N aimlessly walked towards the edge. her body swayed side to side as she got closer to the edge. “Dick… Dick she’s going to jump.” Tim panicked

Dick ran towards the woman who stood on the edge “Y/N! DONT!”

Y/N’s head shot up. her head slowly turned around to see the two young adults in a panic. “Dick? Tim?” She was too tired. She lost her footing and fell off the edge.

“NO!”

Both the boys ran to the edge and watched her limp body plummet towards the ground. Their heart raced as she fell. Dick pulled out his grapple gun and shot it towards her.

“Time to go home nibbles. Rest. I will deal with them.”

Y/N slowly closed her eyes as the wind rushed through her body. Venom took over and let out some webbing. He swung high in the air before landing back on The Wayne tower and crawled up. Whatever was in those chocolates made him feel so much stronger.

Dick and Tim backed away as Venom climbed. When he reached the roof he stood mighty tall. His sharp teeth and white eyes are on full display.

“If you tell anyone about us, then I will simply inform those you told about your nightly activities. Nightwing and Red Robin.” Venom growled at them.

Dick got into a fighting stance “what did you do to Y/N? Where is she?”

“She has overworked herself. And we will be going home. Let Bruce know we’re taking the next few days off. This includes saving people.” Without waiting for an answer Venom jumped off and swung away.

“Oh shit.” Tim whispered.

“Language.” *** Almost home. Venom was almost home before he heard a scream. Another trafficking thing that needed to be stopped. He stood tall on the rooftop watching the armed goons patrolling the compound.

Venom let out a huff “Isn’t this Red Hoods territory”

“That it is big guy.” Red hood landed next to him.

Venom pointed at the caged woman “Stop this now. We have our own matters to attend to.”

“Oh c’mon Ven my man. Help a guy out here. I promise I’ll get you anything you want.” Redhood cocked his gun ready to jump in.

“Anything?”

“Oh, yea. Anything for the big guy that annoys my old man.”

Venom gave him a toothy grin “whoever finishes off fewer people is the loser.” He said before jumping off towards the masked men.

Red hood gasped “h-hey! That isn’t fair.”

While Venom fought the goons. Red hood ran to the cages and released the woman “Go! Don’t worry about the alien, He’s my friend.”

The woman ran out in a fit of screams. When everything calmed down Venom turned to leave. Redhood stood in front of Venom.

“Woah Woah Woah, Where’s the fire?”

Annoyed Venom got low to be face to face with Red Hood “We are tired. we helped out here, Now let us go home, Jason Todd. You did say I’ll get anything if I help. Let me leave.”

Jason didn’t move but he heard Venom leave. When it finally registered that he knew who he was he called the only person he could rant to.

“Jay? are you alright?” Dick yelled Through the phone

“He knows! B is totally going to kill me.”

“You’re talking about Venom right?”

Red hood got on his motorcycle “yea. How did you-”

“It’s Y/N. She’s the host. Meet us at the safe house on the east side.” *** Y/N smiled as she relaxed in her bath "Mmm thank you Venom." Venom continued to massage her whole body "But of course. anything for my host" her face was the only thing not wrapped up in his warmth “I believe this is called a Shiatsu massage. I saw an ad on the tv the other night.”

“Pfft. Well, thank you Venom. This means a lot to me.”

It had been three days since she’s been to work. This mini-vacation was surely needed. Venom pampered her to the best of his abilities, one of the things he was so very adamant on was for Y/N to not check her phone or laptop. The last thing he wanted was for Y/n to work from home. That would defeat the purpose. Y/N was sure she would fall asleep in the tub. Before she did, She got out feeling very refreshed. “Time for bed Y/N”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. Oh! Tomorrow’s Friday. Are you excited about our date” Y/N plopped her body on the bed. “Maybe a little. It has been a while since we’ve seen him.” Venom made his way to the kitchen to eat the last bits of Bruce’s chocolates. When he returned Light snores could be heard from the woman, making Venom smile. Just when he was about to sleep himself a loud ringing of a bell blasted through the room.

“What is the meaning of this!” Venom roared as his body began to convulse around Y/N

Y/N woke with a start. The loud ringing sounded like white noise.

“Y/N… what is that sound!”

Y/N’s eyes widened “It's the fire alarm for the building. We have to-“

The sound of an explosion shook her room. Y/N stumbled to the window to see the building across from her up in flames. “Oh my gosh.”

Another explosion caused her building to rumble. Venom desperately clawed at anything to stop the noise. He threw the alarm clock by the bedside at the bell with such a force it shattered both items into pieces. “Fuck. That. Shit.”

Another rumble and screams erupted from outside her door. “We have to get out of here.”

Venom took over. He broke down the bedroom door. Smoke began seeping out from under the front door. “Window it is.”

“Help. Please.”

Venom’s head perked up. “Did you hear that?”

“Y-yea.”

“We can leave. Let Batman and the birds deal with this.”

“They won’t get here in time Venom.”

Y/N managed to drag Venom back. He involuntarily turned and opened the door. Smoke puffed around the neighbor's door like steam on a train. The ringing sound returned causing both to stumble around.

“Miss! Are you alright! Stay low to the ground”

Both Y/N and Venom struggled to stand on two feet. Letting the adrenaline guide her she opened the door. Y/N covered her mouth “Miss! Where are you.”

“I’m here.”

Y/N let out a series of coughs as she approached the elderly woman. Her leg was trapped under Woden debris. Y/N put her hands under the pile and with all the strength she could muster, raised the pile “Go! This is really hot.”

The woman did as told. Once she was out Y/N dropped the pile. The floor under them shook “Miss, we have to go. This floor is going to fall.”

The elderly woman screamed. She watched in horror as Y/N’s body had continuous black goo violently exploding around her skin. Y/N looked at her hands, then her arms. “Venom, stay inside.”

“You are in danger!”

Another explosion caused Y/N to fly back. Hitting her head on a marble counter. “Y/N!”

Y/N held the bottom of her shirt to her mouth “I’m fine. Where is that grandma.”

“She’s left.”

“Good… you need to leave too.”

“What!”

The ceiling crumbled in front of the door. Trapping them inside.

“You’ll die if you stay here. Venom go. Find a new host.”

“No way in hell!”

“I don’t want you to die!”

“So we finally agree on something.”

The floor gave way. The last thing Y/N saw was a sofa falling with them before Venom took over again. The two lay on the floor while the flames around them surged on.

“I will not leave you Y/N. There is no other host. Only you.”

“But.”

“No buts! Only chocolate.”

Venom heard Y/N laugh. “How can you say that at a time like this”

“Well… I’m not alone anymore.”

***

By the time the boys made it to the apartments, it was too late. They all watched from the rooftop across the street, police, and firefighters flooded the scene. What was once a building was now a pile of red brick, wood, and ash.

“No Y/N” Tim whispered while he looked through binoculars.

“Not yet. Surely they got away.” Damian crossed his arms. To anyone else, he sounded disingenuous. But his brothers knew he was just as worried about Y/N as they are.

Dick scratched the back of his head “The fire is almost put out. we should go to the hospital. Maybe she’s there already”

Tim frowned “Already checked the list of people that’s been administered. No Y/N”

“Fuck this. We need to be down there helping them look for survivors.” Jason turned to leave but Dick stopped him.

“And risk being found out?”

“Who’s going to know!”

“Nightwing, The robins, and Redhood are at Y/N’s apartment. With no Batman mind you. Someone will surely connect the dots.” Dick placed a hand on his shoulder “we have to wait this one out.” To their surprise, Bruce showed up along with Alfred to the scene. they were too far to hear what they were saying. but Bruces face fell at whatever the police had said. "No... no no no" Tim began pacing again "Spit it out Drake." "They haven't found her body. she's... she could be" "We are waiting..." Dick clenched his fists as worry began to consume him. And wait they did. They continued life as normal as they could. Bruce didn't show up to work while Tim continuously drank coffee. Dick stayed with Damian as a means to support the boy. The blood son was restless with getting out there to look for Y/N. Jason went around fishing for any kind of information that could result in such a terrorist attack. As soon as the sun began to set they were already on the scene. Batman sent them to look while he and Gorden investigate.

They spent hours separated looking through the remains of the building. Damian noticed one of the wooden planks move. The boy ran to the spot and began digging. A drippy liquid throbbed “ I've found her. She is here!”

Jason was the first to respond. He helped Damian dig before reaching under her arms, pulling her out. Y/N had patches of black all over her body “Y/N? Venom? Can you hear me?”

No response “we have to take her to the cave.” Tim was about to radio in before Damian stood.

“Are you mad Drake? Father has been hunting Venom for months. Do you really intend to just hand them off like that?”

“Then what do you suggest we do hmm? Take her to the hospital?” Tim shot back

“No. No hospitals. we hate that dreaded place.”

They all watched a tiny Venom head form from Y/N’s neck. Dick knelt down “we have a safe house nearby.”

“That could work.” Venom couldn’t keep his form anymore. He was already so weak. Especially with trying to Heal Y/N.

Jason watched as Venom returned to slime, picking up Y/N. Damian walked beside him never taking his eyes off Y/N.

“What are we going to tell Bruce?” Tim asked his older brother.

Dick let out a sigh “Well we found her. but we can't tell him about Venom. It’s not our secret to tell. Now let’s go. ill radio Batman." *** Bruce remembered this defeated feeling. This is exactly how he felt when he lost Jason. Powerless, guilty, grief-stricken.

“Bruce.”

Dick and Alfred walked into the cave, the only light came from the monitors. Bruce turned his chair around “yes?”

“We’ve found her. She has third-degree burns but she’ll make it through.” Dick watched his father rise from his chair with a stunned expression. Bruce placed both hands on his shoulder “where is she? Which hospital?”

Dick bit the inside of his cheek "We don't know." Bruce put his arms down to the side. He walked past them towards the locker room. "Bruce? You're suiting up?" Dick quickly followed behind his father. "will you be patroling my turf?" His voice was tuff and cold making Dick stops in his tracks. "I didn't think so." All Bruce could think about was to find those who were responsible for Y/N's endangerment. And to find out where Venom had probably kidnapped her after such an ordeal. He decided to push up his plans of removing Venom from Y/N. As long as he lives inside of her, she isn't safe.

#venom symbiote #bruce wayne x fem!reader #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #dc comcis #dc fanfic #Venom reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel x dc

589 notes · View notes

hockeyboysimagines · 3 years

Note

Ugggg you should make that Nolan blurb into a seriessssss sooooo good!!!! But like maybe we could get a part 2 with the smut 🥴

Ask and Ye shall receive! Actually it’s funny you say this because I was thinking about doing it. I have a Nolan fic(Say it to me Softly) and was toying with the idea of adding this to it somehow. But thanks for the suggestion and the request! Hope you like this!-💕

The kids were asleep.

The house was quiet.

Y/N was tired but Nolan was parading around in no shirt so she knew she wasn’t getting any sleep any time soon.

“Your cruel you know.” She said as she slipped into bed.

“What? What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes “You know exactly what I mean Nolan Patrick.”

He grinned evilly and shut the lights off and slipped into bed next to her.

“I do seem to remember that little suggestion about baby number 3 so I just thought-“ he said in her ear as one big hand slid up her leg. She get goosebumps bloom across her skin. It was crazy to her that in all this time and after 2 kids he still got her this worked up just by touching her. He caught her mouth in a very heavy, heated kiss, tongue pushing inside her mouth. Nolan was always ready to go, but after games he was particularly touchy feely. His hand made its way across her abdomen and down between her legs, brushing her inner thigh, and sending a jolt of heat up her body that made her flinch. He chuckled and then slowly moved his hand back and forth, before slipping a finger inside.

“Jesus Christ Nolan I-“

“Shhhhhh.” He said, looking up at her as he moved down the bed and sat between her legs “You’ll wake up the kids.”

She bit her lip, and closed her eyes as Nolan moved his fingers in a way that had her arching up off the bed, wanting to spew profanities at the top of her lungs, before throwing his mouth into the mix and nearly wrecking her all together.

He stopped suddenly and as she lifted her head to protest he climbed back up her body and slid inside her with one fluid movement. Her eyes went wide, and she gave a gasp as he pulled out and pushed in again, holding her face in his hand so he could look her in the eye. She watched as the muscles in his arms and abdomen flexed and moved, writing under his skin, and his hair fell forward into his eyes. This guy was going to be the death of her one day.

He had one leg laying flat and one hitched over his shoulder while braced himself on his knees, a hand on either hip as he pushed inside her over and over hitting deeper each time.

“This is how we got pregnant the first time you know.” She said breathlessly gripping the sheets beside her. He waggled his eyebrows at her and quickened his pace, and she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She let out a squeal as she felt her body begin to shake and Nolan let out a low throaty noise that had them both spilling over the edge admits moans and mattress squeaking.

He blew out a breath and lowered her leg before pulling out and collapsing next to her pulling her in for a long slow kiss.

“You know.” She said after she had caught her breath “Doctors recommend you have sex multiple times to guarantee pregnancy.”

“Twist my arm why don’t you.” He said lowly leaning in.

“Mooooooooooom. Daaaaaaaad. I can’t sleep!”

They sighed and Nolan let his head fall forward with a chuckle.

“Looks like well have to take care of this later.” He stood pulling on his shorts and handed her her T-shirt. Her hair was ruffled and her eyes looked tired but she looked so beautiful.

“I love you.” She said as he helped her up and pulled her into his arms.

“I love you too. Let’s go out this kid to bed so we can get back to making another one.”

#nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick #my asks #request #nhl x reader #nhl blurb #nhl smut #nhl imagine

93 notes · View notes

emilia3546 · 3 years

Text

Tell Me What You Want - Feyre x Rhys x Cassian x Azriel NSFW

Ever since that offer at Solstice, thoughts of more than her mate have been racing through Feyre's mind, but he hasn't exactly helped to get rid of them, not at all. After one too many suggestive comments, Feyre gives in to her desire for all three Illyrians.

*****

Feyre slammed her mental shields up, lowering them for a moment, just long enough to hiss at Rhys,

Prick. She ignored the dark chuckle from across the bond, the image he'd sent across, and tried to turn her attention back to the painting in front of her. She tried to focus on the sunrise, on getting the colors to blend together, and not on the way her mate's hair was ruffled, just like other, more private, times. She shook her head, and Rhys slipped back into her mind in that moment of weakness, and Feyre swore at the images popping up. She knew he was training, but knowing, and seeing three shirtless male bodies was quite another. Fuck off, I'm working. She snapped, but Rhys just laughed,

We miss you. Come join us, we're bored.

I'm working. Feyre repeated, sure that anything else would snap her self control,

You're painting me, come back and find the real thing. I'll make it worth your while. Feyre shoved him away, ignoring the heat spreading across her body, each little joke, each suggestion had slowly been building up. Ever since she'd hesitated to decline his offer to join them in the birchin, he'd been infuriating, mostly because he was right, she wanted them all. She was a mated female, this was ridiculous, but still, her mind wandered to the training ring, to the three half-naked Illyrians there, her mind wandered further, further, until she swore, and stood up, just to try to shake the effect.

None of her half-finished paintings could distract her now, not after the last image Rhys had sent her, she'd never had two males at once, let alone three, but the thought of being between them all sent heat rushing through her, building between her legs, and she finally gave up. She tidied the room as quick as possible, winnowing straight to the bedroom, hoping that maybe she could bathe before Rhys got home, could pretend she was fine. She had no such luck, her mate was sitting on the end of the bed, still shirtless, still grinning, his eyes locking onto her the moment she appeared, and he chuckled as her scent wafted over to him,

"Need a bit of help there, darling?"

"No. I'm fine." She turned on her heel, but Rhys was already there, wrapping his arms around her from behind, and kissing the side of her neck. She melted into him, and nodded when he gently nipped at her skin,

"I want to hear you, darling."

"Yes." she panted, but Rhys made no move to carry her to the bed, or to pull her clothes off, "Rhys," she complained,

"Tell me what you want, Feyre."

"You," she panted, "I want you." Still nothing, she wriggled backwards, trying to urge him into action. This wasn't fair, he was the one who'd been winding her up all day, the least he could do now was to follow through on his promises. "Rhys, please," she whispered, and felt him smile against her skin,

"There it is. Good girl." He whispered, and swung her into his arms, both their clothes vanishing and reappearing in the corner. "We missed you at training today," he murmured as he lay her down on the mattress,

"Some of us have work to do," Feyre managed, her voice slightly breathless, but steady,

"You missed a good day." Rhys continued, kissing along her jaw as she tangled her hands in his hair, holding his face against her. "We had to force Cassian to put his shirt back on at the end." Feyre squeezed her eyes shut as Rhys trailed kisses down her neck, "You should have seen him and Azriel today, if I didn't know better, I'd have said they were putting on a show." At the last word he bit down gently on her collarbone, and Feyre moaned. She cried out when he pulled away, reaching out blindly as she opened her eyes, only for him to yank her down the bed so that her legs fell onto his shoulders as knelt on the floor. "I wonder," he mused, "Would you make the same noises for them as you do when I'm inside you?" Before she could answer, he sucked her clit into his mouth, leaving her wriggling and moaning. He stopped the moment before she reached her climax, "I'd like to find out." Feyre blinked, and tried to form words, any words, "Do you want that?" Rhys whispered, and she finally manged one,

"Yes."

*****

Feyre wasn't scared exactly, but she certainly was nervous, she had no idea what Rhys had planned. She knew he'd relayed their whole discussion to Cassian and Azriel, and that they had both agreed, she'd never liked waiting, and now she was here on her own. She stood from the bed, pacing in front of it, and flushed as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, completely naked except for a black satin dressing gown, she'd left it open, but she fought the instinct to tie it as the door creaked open,

"It's just me." Rhys smiled at her before crossing the room, "Are you sure about this?" Feyre nodded,

"I just don't like waiting,"

"We just wanted you to be sure."

"I am sure, now stop making me wait." Mischief flashed in Rhys's eyes as he leaned down to press a quick kiss against her lips, and slipped the dressing gown off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Feyre was still staring at Rhys when the door opened again, and two more male forms stepped into her vision,

"Wings, now." Rhys muttered,

"What?"

"Wings." Feyre concentrated for a moment, almost forgetting to adjust her balance to adjust to the added weight of the wings on her back. Rhys spun her round, and tugged her against him so that her back was pressed against his front. She flushed again when she met Azriel's eyes, he and Cassian were still fully dressed, so was Rhys actually, and she squirmed under their gazes, but smiled when she noticed that both of them were already straining against their pants. Feyre gasped when Rhys gently pressed between her shoulderblades, making her wings fly out to the sides. He tugged her backwards, and ran a finger along the ridge of a wing, making her collapse completely into him as he sat down on the bed, setting Feyre in his lap.

Even as Rhys began a slow exploration of her waist and stomach, he began talking, small talk, he was really making small talk while she was here, naked, wanting them all. She wriggled in his lap, and it was Cassian who laughed,

"Oh, you are cruel, Rhys." he chuckled, "Poor Feyre,"

"Well, I am High Lord of Night, she knew who she was dealing with."

"Rhys!" she snapped, and all three males laughed, especially when Rhys kissed the side of her neck, and her head fell back onto his shoulder. She made to complain again, but just let out a loud moan as two pairs on hands descended on her wings. Slowly, too slowly, Rhys dipped a hand lower, lower, until he found the evidence of her arousal. He swept a finger through her sex, then two, but removed both, and pushed them into her mouth. She moaned louder at the taste of herself, but whimpered when Cassian and Azriel both stepped back, leaving her trembling with desire,

"Shhhhhh," Rhys murmured, "Patience, darling." She switched her attention between the two males currently stripping all their clothes off in front of her, stumbling when Rhys pushed her to her feet, crashing into Azriel's arms. Rhys made no move to join them, instead settling into a chair across the room, and gently stroked himself as Azriel helped Feyre regain her balance. She glanced across at Rhys, who just shrugged, "What are you waiting for? You want him, have him." Feyre didn't need any more encouragement to haul her mouth to Azriel's, immediately opening and moaning as he gently caressed her tongue with his own, slowly exploring her mouth, his hands rubbing up and down her sides. She panted for breath when he released her mouth, immediately kissing along her jaw. Feyre moaned when a second pair of hands wrapped around her waist, she almost came then and there from Cassian's breath across her wings, but she stopped herself, she had to wait for Rhys' say-so tonight. Cassian rested his chin on her shoulder, and kissed her cheek, she dropped her head backwards onto his shoulder, and moaned when he moved his hands slowly up her body, starting to tease her breasts in time with Azriel's kisses along her neck,

"Eager, aren't we, Feyre?" he chuckled, and she tried to respond, but only managed a strangled moan, earning chuckles from all of them. She wriggled and tried to grind backwards against him, but Azriel pinned her hips still,

"Uh-uh, stay still for us, Feyre."

"But-" Cassian stole all complaints the moment he slanted his mouth over hers, Azriel had been slow, seductive, Cassian's kiss was all fire and dominance. She moaned into his mouth, and reached back to hold his head against her, gripping the ends of his hair, and tugging slightly. Azriel gently lifted her off the ground as Cassian nipped at her lower lip, and she gulped down air when he finally released her, only to nudge her forwards into Azriel's lap on the bed. Feyre looked again at Rhys, and he gave her an encouraging nod,

It's okay, I want to see you on his cock. Feyre shifted to straddle Azriel's lap, rolling her hips teasingly against his, never quite giving him enough, at least until he gripped her hips. She wriggled, trying to tease him again, but he held her still, and pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat, raising an eyebrow,

"Yes," she muttered,

"I can't hear you," Azriel murmured,

"Yes," she repeated a little louder,

"Yes, what? What do you want?"

"I - I want you to fuck me." She let out a cry as Azriel pulled her hips down and slammed his own upwards at the same time, driving his cock deep inside her right away,

"Like that?" Feyre's mind was blank, burning pleasure coursing through her at each movement he made, she slumped forwards, and tucked her face into the crook of his neck, whimpering softly with each move he made. Feyre squealed when Cassian's hands replaced Azriel's on her hips, rocking her faster back and forth, leaving Azriel free to explore her wings. She tried to speak, to tell him where to touch, but all she could manage was another squeal. There was no escape, each time she rocked backwards, away from Azriel, she found herself pinned against Cassian's chest. He kissed along her neck, and Azriel brushed the most sensitive spot on her wing, she screamed, and fixed Rhys with a pleading look, unable to even beg for what she needed,

"You can do better than that, Cass," he chuckled, and Feyre could almost feel Cassian's smirk behind her,

"Have you ever had two males inside you?" Feyre turned to face him as best as she could, and he grinned, turning her chin back to Azriel, who slammed his hips up into her,

"Eyes on me." She obeyed, even as she recognized the sound of the bottle of lubricating oils opening. She collapsed into Azriel's arms again when Cassian slowly eased a finger inside her. With Azriel still pounding into her from below, the second sensation was almost too much, and she sobbed with pleasure when he added a second finger, slowly moving and stretching her out. She buried her face in Azriel's shoulder when Cassian disappeared, and he ran a hand up and down her back slowly, soothing the nervousness threatening to show up again. Still, Feyre whimpered in fear when she felt Cassian's cock pushing at her ass, but she nodded, moaning as he slowly pushed into her, then pulled out, and pushed back in, making sure she was comfortable before shoving her down on Azriel's cock with the force of a thrust. She cried out, her body going loose and uncooperative when both males started moving in tandem,

"Please," she sobbed, gasping when Cassian guided her chin up and back so that she was looking straight at Rhys,

"Look at him while you let both of us fuck you," she did, she looked Rhys in the eyes as he smirked, deliberately stroking himself to match Cassian's rhythm inside her,

"Please," she gasped again, she needed to come, right now, and she wouldn't, couldn't until Rhys did something, Cassian and Azriel could fuck her all day, but if Rhys stayed over there, she'd never be able to climax. It was so close, so close, but just out of reach. Azriel's hands were still on her wings when Rhys stood and made his way over to them, wiping away the tears pooling in the corners of Feyre's eyes,

"Tell me what you want," he whispered, stepping back just out of reach as she reached out for him, screaming in pleasure when Cassian and Azriel both slammed into her at the same time, "Use your words, darling," he hummed, and Feyre sobbed again,

"Please, I, please," she managed, "Can I-" she broke off when Cassian dropped a hand to her clit, it was too much, and she couldn't even climax, she sobbed again, tears starting to fall down her face as Azriel spilled inside her, but he made no move to pull out, he was content to let her sit on his cock as long as it took for Cassian to come as well. Azriel banded his arms around her chest, supporting her as she desperately reached for Rhys, her fingertips just inches away from him as he watched, "I want to come." She whispered,

"What was that?"

"Rhys, please," she gasped, "Can I come?" Feyre sighed as Rhys shuffled along the bed to sit behind Azriel, cupping Feyre's face in both hands as he kissed her, deep, claiming, and finally said those words she needed,

"Come for us, Feyre." She did, right then, her vision failing as she screamed and cried at the overwhelming pleasure washing through her. Cassian kept working her slowly through it as he came moments later, brushing her hair to one side to gently kiss the side of her neck as she came down from her high. She blinked to clear her vision, and mumbled a 'thank you' to Azriel as he helped her climb into Rhys' arms. She buried her face in his chest, but her head shot up at the sound of a low moan across the bed. Rhys turned her in his arms, still rubbing her sides as Azriel smirked, shoving Cassian's face into the mattress as he pumped his fingers into his ass. Cassian wriggled, and tried to dislodge Azriel's hand on his head, but finally fell still, earning a dark chuckle from the shadowsinger,

"Stop that," he hissed, slapping Cassian's hands away when he tried again to lift his head. Feyre glanced back at Rhys when shadows wound around Cassian's hands, pinning them behind his back, and she laughed at Cassian's muffled complaint that quickly changed to moans with the addition of a second finger.

"Alright, darling?" Rhys whispered, "I know that was a lot,"

"That was great," Feyre breathed, "But now I want you. I always want you."

"Of course, you do." Rhys laughed, and Feyre scowled, but rolled her eyes,

"You always want me."

"Can you blame me?" He murmured, palming her breasts as she watched Azriel slide into Cassian, and she let out a moan as Rhys pinched a nipple, then slowly rolled her hips back against him, "I want to be inside you," He growled, and Feyre raised an eyebrow, slowly lifting her hips to lower herself onto him, his groan of pleasure sparking a deeper satisfaction than anyone else could ever give her.

Feyre ground her hips down against Rhys as he kissed and sucked at her neck, biting down at the junction between her neck and shoulder. She tipped her head sideways, moaning softly as he sucked a mark into her skin, groaning out her name as she rolled her hips down onto him. Feyre's rhythm faltered at the sound of a louder groan from Cassian, his head now tipped sideways as he panted, squeezing his eyes shut.

Go touch him. Rhys murmured into her mind, and Feyre laughed, crawling across the bed, and brushed Cassian's hair away from his face,

"He looks pretty like this," she chuckled to Rhys, and laughed at Cassian's weak attempt at responding, Azriel grinned, and slowly rolled his hips before pulling all the way out, and slamming back in to the hilt. At the same time, Feyre grasped the base of Cassian's wings, and he whimpered, actually whimpered, before spilling himself on the sheets beneath him. Feyre still didn't let go of his wings, zoning out of the room around her as she searched for the spot that would make him scream her name. She didn't notice when the shadows around his wrists released him, only realizing when he surged forwards, flipping her underneath him, and pinning her wrists over her head,

"Cruel High Lady," he crooned, chuckling as she tried to twist away, but she fell still when he nudged her legs apart, sliding a knee upwards between them. Feyre gasped as he rubbed it back and forth, grinding against him as she chased another high, and gasped when darkness descended around her face, and something else pinned her hands still, shadows, Azriel was deliberately blinding her. She tested the bindings of the shadows, and couldn't move an inch, especially with Cassian redoubling his efforts to bring her to the edge.

Words were absolutely beyond her as Rhys slipped into her mind, wringing a new pleasure from her as he caressed her mind, his essence melding into hers until she couldn't tell where she ended and he began. She sobbed his name again and again, out loud, in her mind, she didn't know, she only knew the pleasure washing over her in waves, the pleasure from herself, and Rhys's own pleasure as he stroked himself at the sight of her trembling in Cassian's arms another tear slipped down her face as Cassian switched his attention from her body to her wings, and the only thought she could form was the command for her wings to vanish, with three males, anything involving her wings would be too much, and Cassian merely moved back to her sex, wringing another climax out of her with his fingers.

She knew that she must be trembling and whimpering, but she didn't care enough to try and stop, she just cared when Cassian slowly slid into her, and her hands released so that she could grip his shoulders as he flipped them over. She'd barely taken a breath before someone pushed into her ass, Azriel, and she gasped when he gripped her hair, and pulled her head up, only for Rhys to tip her chin up. She opened her mouth, breathing through her nose as he slid in. She carefully timed her breaths to Rhys' thrusts, but choked when Azriel thrust into her, shoving her further onto Rhys' cock. With Cassian pounding into her from beneath, there was no way she could keep a rhythm. She let go, let them guide her, let them bring her to climax, once, twice, thrice before each spilling inside her one after the other.

Feyre collapsed onto the bed, the males' release still dripping out of her as she struggled to fill her lungs. Rhys gently tipped her head back, rolling her onto her side. She grasped for his hands, clinging onto him as she gathered herself back together. She half registered someone gently cleaning her up, and mumbled something incoherent as she pushed herself up into a seated position. She laughed as three pairs of arms and wings wrapped around her,pulling her back onto the bed. Cassian complained that he was being left out as she nestled into Rhys' side, quickly snuggling into the bed between them, with Rhys in front of her, and Azriel pressed against her from behind. She draped an arm across Rhys to find Cassian, and snorted with laughter when he stretched a wing across the four of them, the darkness quickly sending her to sleep.

#fanfiction #fanfic #smut #feysand #feyre x rhysand #feyre x rhysand x cassian x azriel #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

203 notes · View notes

candreloup · 3 years

Text

Whooeeee this is a long one! Also, it's so late at night... Sorry for the late post again! Finally cracked that writer's block too with this one, so that's good! (Side story- I literally leaped out of my bed and knocked over my trombone to write the second and third paragraph haha) Oh, and the idea/prompt for this one is from an irl contributor in my family who I asked for ideas! The original prompt was a sad hero whose only purpose in life is fighting the villain. Anyways, on to the story!

The room was dark. A light shone through the cracks in the door, barely shading in the dark shadows of furniture. It was deadly silent, the air thick and filled with the smell of sweat and tears. Everything felt unnaturally still, full of a menacing quiet. The only sound was the soft breathing in the corner of the room, from the curled body on the small twin bed overcast by shadows. Soon, the breathing became ragged, the small figure thrashing in their blankets as sweat dripped from their face and mingling with tears onto the pillow.

Hero jolted upright, clutching at their chest. Nightmare. They frantically tried to untangle themselves from the blankets, drowning in darkness and air. The covers seemed like liquid, trapping Hero within their restricting grasp and caging them like a bird. It made Hero panic even more, struggling and pulling at their throat in an attempt to free the air trapped there. The room filled with the sharp sound of choking gasps and the clatter of limbs against walls and furniture.

Hero stumbled out of their bed, tripping over blankets and objects scattered around the room. They reached for the table, clawing at the mahogany and pulling open the drawers in a panic. Everything clattered, filling their ears with a deafening cacophony overshadowed only by the sound of their own heartbeat. It consumed their mind, overtaking it with desperation and panic. They couldn’t think, couldn’t see- the pitch black covered everything like a suffocating blanket of claustrophobia. Hero stopped their frantic search through the drawers to grab at the light switch on the lamp, nearly pulling it down as it crashed against the headboard loudly. The floor had objects littering the floor- a piece of jewelry missing its mate here, a scrap of a long-forgotten picture there. Everything came out as Hero frantically tried to find the tiny orange container, feeling their own throat close up as they searched longer and longer. It felt like forever before they found it, prying open the lid with shaky fingers and scattering the pills onto their hand. Not bothering to count them, Hero threw their hand over their mouth and leaned back, collapsing onto the floor and waiting for them to take effect.

As the world dimmed and their mind slowed, Hero could feel the cold wooden floorboards soaking up their heat and the soft sound of their heartbeat slowing before everything faded out.

“Well, you look like shit.” Villain said, staring at Hero’s haggard face. “Long night?”

Hero grinned at Villain. “Not long enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Hero leaned on the door, closing their eyes slowly before getting up and walking towards Villain. Villain was about to laugh at their feeble attempts at attacking when Hero suddenly lunged towards Villain.

“We’re really going to do this now? You look like death right now. You know that, right?”

Hero smiled, their eyes still a flat black color. “No shit.” And swung.

Villain stroked Hero’s hair softly, staring at their prone form on the bed. It was laughable, their feeble attempts at attacking. It felt cruel, countering- like taking candy from a baby. Villain stared down at Hero’s face, the normally harsh edges and angles softened by sleep. The dark circles under their eyes were even clearer now that they were relaxed. They’d collapsed only a short while ago, falling to the floor when Villain had used their weakest attack. Damn. It was kind of disappointing- the fights they'd used to have had been full of struggle and fire, each party almost exactly equal in ability. But now... Now, it was so easy it was sad.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Villain looked down again, at the hero so completely at their mercy. It would be so easy. Just put their hands around Hero's neck, a few minutes perhaps of struggling and it would be over. No. Villain could imagine Hero's face, their look of betrayal and hurt stabbing Villain in the heart like nothing else could.

At that moment, Hero groaned, shifting slightly. Villain jumped out of their thoughts, gripping Hero's shoulders and pinning them down to the couch to stop the inevitable struggle. But to Villain's surprise, Hero didn't struggle. They started to move, struggling and thrashing- but their eyes were closed.

"No- No..." Hero murmured, tears leaking out of the corners of their eyes. It shocked Villain, this strange show of emotion. Made them pause, think about Hero's recent behavior.

"Long night?"

"Not enough."

Oh. Villain looked down at Hero again, teardrops quickly turning into streams that ran down their cheeks and dripped onto the pillow in an unsteady rhythm.

"No... Run... run, go-" Hero was muttering again, rolling and clutching at their chest, pulling at their clothes and skin, clutching their neck desperately. They reached up to their shoulders, struggling to pull Villain's hand off their shoulder. "He's coming... He's coming, run-"

Villain lifted their hands off of Hero's shoulder, softly stroking Hero's head.

"Shhhhhh." Hero whimpered, grabbing at Villain's hand again. "You're fine," Villain whispered, slowly brushing their fingers through Hero's hair and quieting them. Hero leaned into the touch, still making small sounds of fear intermittently. The sounds died down slowly and Hero's face seemed to relax, their expression of terror melting slowly into one of peaceful neutrality. Villain kept murmuring to Hero, quietly running their fingers through Hero's hair. "It's okay."

Hero woke up slowly, taking their sweet time and relishing the blissful remnants of a all-too rare rest. God, they hadn't felt this rested since... since before they could stretch their crumbling memory. For the past years, all they could remember, all they could see was fighting and nightmares. The only thing that kept them going was the Villain's threats and challenges, the imminent danger they kept on Hero's back and the rush of the fight. It flooded their mind, consumed them and pushed off the nightmares. Fighting and clawing and grasping at life let Hero live, let them keep going from day to day and keep pushing. There was nothing else, no one else. Just Villain and their battles. But lately, Villain hadn't been fighting back. The nightmares got worse, the panic attacks more and more frequent. Hero could feel their throat constrict, feel their body shut down every second they were awake.

For some reason, though, not today. Not today, not now- for the first time in what felt like years Hero had finally gotten a good rest. Why? As Hero opened their eyes, they felt the warmth of another body next to them. The first thing to register was that signature black hair, so dark that it seemed to suck the light out of the very air next to it. Villain.

They were sleeping, sleeping- Guard down, relaxed and resting next to Hero. Hero, of all people. What...?

Hero could feel their throat constricting. They knew why Villain was sleeping near them. The memory of their blackout, the sensation of dropping into a forced sleep- it was clear, but tucked away in a corner of Hero's mind they really didn't want to explore.

The breaths came faster, slower, faster, filling their chest with a sort of panic that sank to the bottom of their stomach and snaked into a twisted feeling of dread. Villain was, quite clearly, pitying Hero. The villain pities the hero. How sad.

Hero shook their head, gripping it with their hands and squeezing- trying something, anything, to try and crush those thoughts out of existence. Look at you. Such a failure. This is why-

No. No. It wasn't why. That wasn't the reason. Hero knew the reason, knew why, and yet- And yet. And yet. Pathetic. Excuses. Failure. Stupid. Idiot. Weak. Faster and faster and faster.

Pathetic. Failure. Stupid. Weak. Pathetic. Idiot. Disappointment. Failure. Pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic-

Hero felt a hand on their shoulder. A voice, so familiar to Hero's ears but so unfamiliar in its tone. A sort of gentility, a tone of pity filled it.

Pathetic.

No. But Hero couldn't block out the voices, couldn't ignore the fact that their own voice felt like it was strangling them. So they pushed it out, pushed it towards the only other person that Hero could pour the bottled up hate and malice onto. Villain.

"Get off me."

Villain had a half-smile, a sort of confused grin, stuck to their face like plaster.

"What?"

"Don't touch me."

The smile was fading now, disappearing and transforming into that cruel anger Hero knew so well. Strangely, though, through that mask Hero swore they could see a glimpse of hurt. No.

"Wh-"

"You heard me. Are your ears broken? Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me."

"Hero, what's-"

"You're pathetic." The voice slithered out of Hero's mouth, out of their brain, consuming the silence in the room and growing into a hate filled tornado of resentment and rage. "Just like me. Look at us. A couple of fools. You, a villain? Ha! Pathetic. So weak, so stupid." Hero started to cry, tears dripping down their face as they spat hateful words at Villain, angry words full of venom and intentionally misdirected gall. "I'm just like him. So are you. Broken. Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathe-" Villain clamped a hand over Hero's mouth. Hero just sat, tears dripping down and dampening Villain's skin. A small voice slipped out between Villain's fingers.

"What else do I have to live for?"

Villain's eyes widened, staring at Hero's twisted face.

"Tell me, Villain. What else is there? I'm nothing. I'm just a failure who happened to catch your attention." Hero laughed bitterly. "God knows why."

Villain shook their head slowly. "There's a reason I chose you. You... You're different. You have purpose. You have a reason."

Hero shook with more silent sobs. "No, I don't."

Villain pulled their hand away, shaking slightly. "You have a reason."

"NO, I DON'T!" Hero screamed, wanting to hit something, hurt something. "EVEN YOU PITY ME. THERE'S NOTHING ELSE. NOTHING!" Hero gasped, struggling for air, struggling to breathe through the tears and the hiccupping sobs that shook their body. "WHAT OTHER PURPOSE DO I SERVE? THERE'S NOTHING."

Villain just pulled Hero closer, holding them tightly to their chest. "You're worth something. You're worth something."

Hero's voice quieted, hoarse and cracking with sorrow, muffled as Hero cried into Villain's shirt, "To who?"

Villain listened to Hero's cries, to their wailing and feeling the tears drip through their shirt. Before answering gently, "To me."

#villain #hero #villain and hero #hero and villain #arch enemy #sadness #hero x villain #villain x hero #hero villain snippet #angst #whump? idk i dont really know what this means but i looked it up and it seems to be applicable hereee

59 notes · View notes

ink-system · 4 years

Text

Tickletober Day 9:Ganged Up On

ok so here is the extremely late tktober fic. Sorry it’s so late school and writer’s block happened but it’s here now and I hope you guys enjoy it a bit

TW: safe word mention, calling of safe word, intense tickles, Deceit, Remus

Word Count: 5813

Virgil was running. Where he didn’t know, all he knew was he needed to get out of there and he needed to get out of there fast. He was being chased by vicious, merciless monsters.

“Oh Viiirgey where are youuuuuu?~”

“We just wanna play with you!~”

“We aren’t gonna hurt you!”

“We would just like to show you how adorable you are.”

“It’s going to be so much fun once we catch you”

The teasing words echoed throughout the mind palace, drilling into Virgil’s head. He would never admit it, but the teases were slowing him down. The taunts were getting to him and the monsters were quickly gaining on him.

The purple side looked behind him, only for a second, and what he saw sent shivers down his spine…

All 5 sides right behind him, ready to attack. 5 sides who wanted to wreck him. 5 sides who were in ler moods. 5 sides who knew he was in a lee mood. 5 sides who were ABOUT TO TACKLE HIM HOLY SHIT HE’S GONNA DIE-

With Virgil looking behind him he got even more distracted and slowed down, which gave Roman just enough time to sprint the last few feet separating him from Virgil to tackle him. The fanciful side leaped forward with his arms reaching out for the side on the run.

“Aaaaaand GOTCHA!”

“NONONONO LEMME GO!”

Once Virgil was in the red side’s arms there was no escaping them. He was trapped. Done for. Stuck. He was gonna be tickled to tears by 5 lers and there was nothing he could do about it (not that he wanted to but that’s beside the point-).

“You put up a nice fight Virgey but it was pointless. You knew you were gonna get caught and that once you did you were making it worse for yourself by running away from your big, bad, personal tickle monsters. But you probably wanted that didn’t you, you big ass lee,” Roman teased to the squirming purple side in his arms.

As Roman was speaking he carried the struggling side to the coach and laid him down before straddling him as Janus used two of his six arms to pin the ex-dark side’s arms above his head.

“OH SHUT FUCKING FUCK YOU ASSHAT,” said purple side yelled, flustered out of his mind from the fanciful sides truths lies.

“Virgil, language!” the father figure exclaimed in both real and fake horror at the language his son used. “You should know better than to use those words, kiddo! I think you need to be punished for your potty mouth.” the dad of the group scolded. Patton’s teasing was fatherly and he almost always scolded the lee for something they did. It was… very flustering in its own way.

“Precisely what I was thinking, Patton. Such language is extremely uncalled for and calls for punishment” Logan, slightly cold yet teasingly stated. Logan’s teasing was very scientific and calculated. It was surprisingly flustering, him seeming almost indifferent to his actions and how they affected the lee.

“Yes, it does seem like he definitely knows how awful that language is. He doesn’t need to be taught a lesson,” the deceitful side said casually. Janus’ teasing was just stating the obvious but backwards, and it unfairly flustering, especially for something so simple. It killed everyone, especially poor Virgil.

“Such profanity is inexcusable! I say we show little Virgey here what happens to lees who say such horrible words!~” the sash wearing side exclaimed, far too dramatic than what was necessary. Roman’s teasing was just like him, overdramatic and far too extra. Yet there was something… flustering about it? He is creativity so it would follow that he would be able to tease quite well.

“Yeah having a ‘potty mouth’ is my thing! You’re stealing my thing Virgey! That’s even more punishable!” the duke yelled while reaching his hands out towards Virgil’s stomach, but he was stopped by Logan grabbing his collar. “Ahhhhh c’mon dork I just wanna wreck Tickle Me Emo’s little tummy for stealing my shit.” Remus’ teasing was… well. It was Remus teasing you. It was oftentimes very suggestive (even though he tried to not make suggestive with Virgil, Patton, and Roman), and its own way it was… kind of flustering.

“No, you need to be patient and wait for the rest of us” the tie-wearing side stated calmly.

“But you dorks are so slow and I wanna wreck him now. I’m sure he would prefer to get wrecked sooner than later. Isn’t that right, tickle toy”

Hearing them talk about him like he wasn’t there was driving Virgil crazy. Hearing the shit Remus was saying was even worse because it was true wrong and blatant lies and not true at all. Virgil couldn’t do a thing about it either. His face could’ve been mistaken for a fucking tomato at that point and the knowledge that the impulsive side was right made his blush spread from his face to his ears and neck. It sent tingles down his spine, and he hated how much teases got to him. Logan said it had something to do with him being the embodiment of anxiety and fight or flight and tickling being a way to train children to defend themselves and it is a panic defense. All he knew was it was making his already awful lee mood even worse.

“NONONO NOT RIGHT AT ALL” Virgil shrieked “I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN! FUCKING LET ME GO YOU ASSHOLES.”

Virgil knew what he was doing, he knew he was making it worse for himself and that he was going to get wrecked even more than he was before. But he may or may not have wanted that (okay he definitely wanted that but shhhhhh), and wasn’t regretting a thing.

“Such foul language! You must really want to be wrecked! I mean I knew you were in a lee mood but not one this big! I mean c’mon- 5 lers and you’re still having an attitude and cursing at us.” the good half of creativity remarked teasingly, not missing how red the lee’s face went at his words.

“Oh yes, it would seem that poor little ticklish Virgil here has amassed quite the lee mood and he is resorting to being bratty to get more tickles,” Logan stated slightly cold as if he were reading a lab report out loud rather than teasing the living daylights out of the lee that is Virgil ‘Anxiety’ Sanders.

“Yes, he’s been having quite the attitude with us thus far. Quite the bratty lee if I say so myself,~” the serpent side teased to the blushing, red, lee mess that was the embodiment of anxiety. “And we all know that bratty lees don’t want to be wrecked with tickles until they can’t even fight it anymore and they definitely don’t want punishment tickles so they misbehave to get them.”

And then Virgil heard the worst thing he has ever heard in his life.

“I say we make him ask for the tickles like a good little lee because bratty lees don’t get what they want”

No. No no no no no no. This couldn’t be happening right now. Not to him. Not in this big of a lee mood. Not with this many lers around to hear it and see how red his face is. Not him having to actually say the dreaded t-word. Not with five fucking lers to wreck him after he asks, holy shit he fucked up-

But there’s no way it could get worse. I mean only Janus said that the other sides probably won’t even agree with him! They’ll have mercy on him and not make him ask- right?

“Oh what a wonderful idea Dr. Trickyll and Mr. Lie!”

“What a good idea! Oh, you’re so smart Janny!”

“Yes, it would be beneficial to teaching Virgil a lesson to make him ask for what he wants.”

“Oh come on! Now I have to wait even longer to wreck him, cause we all know that Virgey here can’t say tickle!”

Aaaaaaand it got worse.

Not only did (mostly) all of them agree with the scaled side, but the only one who didn’t was Remus, and that was only because he wanted to wreck him sooner. Great.

So it was settled. He was going to die today. And it was all his Janus’ fault. I mean- how could he be so mean? Making him admit to being in a lee mood? The rudest thing he’s ever heard, how dare they make him admit to wanting to be wrecked with t- you know what.

And Virgil, the side who is definitely not a lee, eloquently said, “I- I- NONONONO- THAT ISN’T FAIR YOU ASSHOLES.”

“Now you are just proving our suspicions. You are in a leviathan of a lee mood and are being a bratty lee and defying us to get the desired amount of tickles. We are not going to give in to your brattiness and do as you wish until you ask nicely.”

Virgil wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there forever. They were seriously going to make him ask? Now? In this economy? But more importantly right now-

Was he going to ask?

Was he going to embarrass himself to all of the other sides? Was he going to let them know, once and for all, that he was in a big ass lee mood? Was he going to tell them that he wanted 50 fingers wiggling and scribbling all across his body, forcing them to make him laugh? Or was he going to die from lee suffering and not ask?

Yeah, he was gonna die from lee suffering.

There was no way that he would, or could, ask for something so childish and happy when he was anxiety. He was supposed to be the protector of the group, not the guy who gets giant lee moods and shows weakness and is soft, no matter how much he may have wanted to do so.

“Come on kiddo, you can do it! I believe in you!” the fatherly side encouraged.

Or maybe he could… maybe.

“But it’s so… ” the emo side trailed off, face somehow flushing even redder, “embarrassing,” he finished quietly.

“Oh c’mon Emo Nightmare, it’s fine to let loose every once in a while! There’s no shame in wanting tickles, in fact, it’s quite adorable!” the fanciful side dramatically exclaimed, aiming to make the anxious side feel a bit better, noticing the aura of shame surrounding him.

“Yes it is, in fact, beneficial to one’s mental health to laugh, and tickling, as I’m sure you know, is a way to produce laughter. Therefore, it would aid your, and most likely Thomas’, mental health to be tickled if you so desire. There is no shame in it Virgil.” Logan stated the oddly calming words in an almost motherly tone to the patchwork hoodie-clad side.

“Yes, it isn’t adorable how easily you’re flustered and how much you want to be wrecked by us. And even if it was adorable, which it definitely is not, we all know you love being tickled. So that makes us wrecking you until you cry is a form of self-care! And there are so many things wrong with practicing self-care, especially as the literal embodiment of anxiety.” the deceitful side said, trying his best to comfort his old friend in his own way.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah Virgey just c’mon and say it. I wanna wreck your little belly button now so if you could hurry it up with the asking thing that’d be better than a butthole!” Remus said while looking ready to pounce on Virgil as soon as he asked for it, if not sooner.

Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay he could do this. All he had to do was say three words! Three words aren’t that many!-

Please. Tickle. Me.

He couldn’t do this.

Those three words were the bane of existence. Those 3 words were going to be the death of him. Those 3 words made his face look like a fucking tomato even just thinking them, let alone saying them. Those three words… that he was going to say.

He took a breath, and ever so calmly said “PLEASE TICKLE ME!”

“Awww I knew you could do it kiddo!”

“There we go, you adorable emo!”

“I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to tell us what you wanted, and that you were polite about it.”

“See that wasn’t too hard now was it, my little spider”

“FINALLY!”

The emo side’s face somehow went even redder at his fellow side’s words of excitement at finally getting to wreck him.

Whether Virgil was going to die of embarrassment or lee first was anyone’s guess, but all he knew was he was going to die of something that day. His face was so red it could be mistaken for a tomato, and it spread to his neck and ears at this point. The emo side’s lee mood had grown so big that it was becoming more all-consuming than a lee mood already was normally. So maybe he might die of both at the same time if the other sides didn’t hurry the fuck up and wreck him.-

“So… pick a spot Emo Nightmare,” the good creativity said calmly after a few seconds of silent anticipation of what was to come (well the anticipation was mainly on Virgil’s end but shhh)

“WHAT?! NONONONO I JUST ASKED YOU FUCKING ASS!” the anxious side exclaimed in disbelief before slamming his head down on the ground in exasperation.

Did Roman just live to embarrass him? He made him ask and now he’s making him pick a spot. He’s basically making him tell where he wants to be wrecked the most and that’s completely illegal.

“Well now you’re being bratty again, should we make you ask again?” the logical side asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

“…don’t make me say those fucking words again,” Virgil said, face somehow flushing even redder at the idea of being made to ask again, avoiding eye contact with the other sides. He was beyond mortified at this point, all the other sides had heard him ask to be wrecked, were going to make him pick a spot, and now they heard him admit to not wanting to say that fucking word again. He wanted to crawl inside a hole and stay there for the next 4,000 years.

“C’mon kiddo, just say any spot! You’re so ticklish that any spot will be great!” the paternal side said, accidentally teasing his son.

“Patton whyyyyyyyyy” Virgil whined while trying to hide his face in his shoulder as best he could, embarrassed at the moral side’s words.

“What?! It’s true kiddo!”

“No, it’s not”

Virgil wasn’t pouting. Nope. Nuh-uh. Not at all. He was big, bad anxiety who didn’t pout, no matter how much he may have thought it was unfair that they were being so mean to him.-

“Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” the emo side groaned in frustration and embarrassment, from the other sides still not wrecking him and the father figure words, before whispering, “…sides.”

As soon as the word left his mouth Remus pounced on him, literally. The impulsive side tackled his twin brother of the emo and replaced him by straddling his waist and squeezing Virgil’s sides.

The emo bit his lip to try and keep his laughter in, but it was no use; he was already too keyed up from anticipation for him to not laugh.

“Wahaihihit noho!”

“Oh, but we’re just getting started, Virgil,” the logical side said, smirking as he saw the emo’s eyes widen in panic when he saw the logical side calmly walking towards him.

“Just remember, you asked for this kiddo,” Patton said before walking towards his son with an innocent yet slightly sinister grin on his face. He was so excited to finally get to wreck his son to pieces! Virgil often came to him when he was in lee moods and it was so adorable! Now he got to share that adorableness with the rest of the sides!

Janus was already behind him and was spreading four out of his six arms to wreck the ex-dark side. He wiggled all of his available fingers where Virgil could see them. He relished in the way his face flushed an even darker red before he closed his eyes to avoid seeing the teasing, wiggling fingers.

The good half of creativity had since recovered from getting shoved off the lee and had climbed next to Virgil’s legs and had a hold of his ankle to keep him from kicking. As he did that, he stretched his leg out slightly in order to gain access to the backs of his knees.

“Wahihit Rohomahan nohoho!” the current lee cried out in panic at the knowledge that the fanciful side was going to tickle his knees.

“Why did I choose today to wear shorts?” Virgil thought to himself in regret before he remembered, “Oh yeah, I wanted to get wrecked. Well… fuck my life I guess”

Roman started scribbling his fingers on the backs of the emo’s side’s knees, listening to his,ironically, bright and cheerful laugh as he did so.

The tie wearing side finally walked all the way over to Virgil and kneeled next to him on the coach. He began scanning the darker side for a spot to tickle that wasn’t already being wrecked by the other sides. His eyes landed on his ribs, which were known to be a pretty bad spot on their own for the purple side, so tickling them combined with the other spots covered by the other sides were likely to make him go even further into hysterics.

“Virgil, how does it feel to know that you’re going to be tickled without mercy until you cry by 5 lers? Is it terrifying? Exciting? Exhilarating?” he said while summoning a notebook to write his answers down, eager to have more research.

The emo’s side flushed the reddest it’s ever been at Logan’s words and at seeing the notebook. He knew whatever he did was going to be observed and recorded for the logical side to look back on when he was collecting more data on the side’s reactions to certain aspects in tickling.

“Lohohogahan, nohoho!” he laughed harder, becoming more giddy by the second, feeling the logical side’s eyes drifting up and down his body. Virgil knew the tie wearing side was going to try and collect data from him, but he didn’t expect him to ask questions.

“Logan, yes!,” the dark blue side exclaimed, uncharacteristically excited and child-like at the opportunity to collect more data.

“You know Virgil, you still haven’t responded to my question, would you mind doing so now?”, the left brain side questioned. He finally kneeled down next to Virgil and began to squeeze his ribs while observing the emo’s reactions to him doing so.

“Yehehes Ihihi wohouhuhuld mihihind! Shuhut uhuhup!”

“Oh kiddo, well now that’s just flat out rude! You should know better than to be such a meanie!”, the paternal side scolded. “I think you need to be taught another lesson, it’s the only way you’re gonna learn after all!”

“Yes, it would be a good incentive to answer my question, seeing as how he doesn’t seem to want to be cooperative. It would also be beneficial to my research to see how he would react to your ‘punishment’.”

“Wahahaihit nohoHOHOHO!” Virgil tried to say before he was thrown into even deeper hysterics from the father figure had started scribbling his fingers on his stomach.

All of the other sides all mentally, and some verbally, awwed at the normally dark and pessimistic side’s bright and happy laughter.

With Janus scribbling Virgil’s armpits with 5 arms, Roman tracing his knees, Patton scratching at his tummy, Logan squeezing his ribs, and Remus digging into his sides, Virgil was, well… losing his fucking mind.

“GUHUHUYS! HAHAHAHA!”

“Uh, guys- I think we should give him a break. His face is as red as my sash and he’s kind of wheezing.-” the fanciful said, sounding very concerned at his friend’s current state.

“Oh kiddo, are you okay?”, Patton questioned as he pulled his hands back from their place on his stomach. He knew the darker side could take a lot but he didn’t know if he could take that many tickles, especially with so many lers.

All the other sides slowly began to move their hands away when the rest of them noticed that the fanciful was right. They each looked at him as they all backed away, concern visible in their eyes.

“Virgil, would you like a glass of water?”, the logical side asked, voice surprisingly soft and almost motherly.

The emo side nodded his head, still too lost in residue giggles to respond verbally. Virgil’s brain was practically melted from all the ghost sensations still tingling all over his body.

“We didn’t go too far did we, my little shadowling?” the deceitful side asked, being genuine for once. Him and the emo side may not have been that close anymore, but Janus still deeply cared for him and wanted to make sure he was okay.

“Yehehes, ohoho gohohod,” the purple side giggles out, still a bit loopy on endorphins from laughing so much.

If the emo side was being completely honest, his lee mood still wasn’t gone. He still wanted more tickles. He wanted to be wrecked more than he already had been, and more than he ever had been before.

As all the sides stepped back a bit to give him some room to breathe the emo side managed to say through his giggles, “Noho dohont gohoho,wahant mohohore tihicklehes!”

The other 5 sides felt their jaws drop at his words. He wanted… more tickles? Man he really was in a giant lee mood. After they all got over the shock of his words, the five sides grinned wider than the cheshire cat.

“More? You want more tickly tickly tickles, Virgey?”, the green side said, as he slowly walked towards the lee again with wiggling fingers.

“Yehehes!”, the emo side exclaimed, still clearly loopy from the endorphins.

The five lers all awwed at endorphin high Virgil and him being so open about wanting more tickles. Just when the rest of them thought that the emo side couldn’t be even cuter, he did this. Even Logan had to admit that the sight was adorable.

“Okay kiddo, how about this? We’ll give you alllllll the tickles you could ever want after you calm down a bit more. How does that sound?!”

“Gohohod!”, the emo side giggled out, as excited as they’ve ever seen him before. He started taking deeper breaths to try and calm down quicker so he could get his second round of tickles even sooner.

As soon as he came down from his endorphins rush the purple side’s face flushed red as he remembered what he said stuttering out embarrassed excuses. “I didn’t mean that!-” and “I was lying!-” were the most common excuses he made.

None of the other sides believed him.

As they shouldn’t have, as Virgil still had a wide, wobbly smile on his face from the anticipation of knowing he was going to be wrecked again.

“You see, Virgil, you still haven’t answered my previous question. Why don’t you answer it now?”the dark blue side asked teasingly. Logan smirked as he saw the way that the emo side’s face flushed an even darker red, traveling all the way to his neck and ears. He knew the emo couldn’t handle answering his questions for his research, and he used this fact quite frequently. Teasing always made it worse for the purple side, it was almost too much for him to handle. It was almost mean to tease the embodiment of anxiety, especially when he was this worked up and flustered in the first place.

“Uh, how about I don’t do that?-”, the anxious said quickly, not wanting to have to tell Logan how excited he was to have five lers to wreck and tease him until he was a red, flustered, hysterical mess.

“So Panic! at the Everywhere, you say you want more tickles, then you deny wanting said tickles. What’s wrong, a little flustered? Are we teasing you too much? Can big, bad anxiety not handle a few simple teases or questions from his own personal tickle monsters? Oh, what a pity, and were going to have so much fun with you too! We were going to scribble our fingers on your tummy, lightly scratch our fingers on your toes, squeeze your thighs, poke your sides, skitter our fingers on the backs of your knees! Now we won’t get to do any of that, and that’s such a pity for all of us!”, the fanciful side teased, glancing at Virgil every so often to see how red his face would go at his words.

Roman certainly wasn’t disappointed with the emo side’s reaction. He started kicking again, face flushing red and it spreading to his neck and ears, giggles spilled out of his mouth against his will from anticipation, shaking his head, and tugging on his arms while half heartedly begging to be let go.

“Nohoho, Prihihincehey stahap beheihing mehean!”, the patchwork clad hoodie side pleaded, giggling from anticipation and Roman’s mean teasing. It just wasn’t fair- I mean c’mon, Virgil was anxiety, you’re really going to make him wait? How mean could someone possibly be?

“Kiddo, do you want more tickles?”, the paternal side asked tenderly, not intending to tease his son, just merely wanting to make sure he actually wanted them before five lers were wrecking him again.

The emo side shyly nodded his head before turning to hide his very red face in his shoulder. He couldn’t handle the others seeing him so flustered, despite the others having seen him just as flustered before. The only difference was they were all together this time. They all were seeing him, face the most red it had probably ever been, at the same time. It was almost too much embarrassment for Virgil to handle.

“Awwww! Gerard Gay really is adorable, isn’t he?!“, the fanciful side exclaimed excitedly before looking at the other four lers, bouncing on his heels a little from the adorable sight. He was just so excited cause he got to wreck the normally stoic and edgy emo more because said emo asked him too!

“You dorks need to shut the fuck up and help me wreck Tickle-Me-Emo,” the green side said before walking over to Virgil.

As Remus walked over to him, Virgil shook his head wildly, eyes wide open, legs kicking, and tugging on his arms. The purple side knew that the intrusive side was one the most merciless lers in the mind and he didn’t stop unless you were crying from laughter or begging for mercy. And he was walking right towards him again while Virgil was pinned down and couldn’t fight back like he normally could.

“I for one am curious as to why the little spiderling wants more tickles. Would you mind telling us, my little shadowling?”, the deceitful side questioned affectionately. He always loved to make Virgil say his fantasies as he knew how much it flustered him.

“Yehes Ihi wohouhuld mihihind”

“Too bad, you’re telling us Robert Downey Jr.”

Virgil whined, knowing he wasn’t getting out of this as easily, and that the other sides wouldn’t be satisfied with his answer unless he gave specific details. All he wanted was to be wrecked again, was that too much to ask?

Apparently it was.

The emo side groaned, far too gone in his lee mood to not get more tickles. He took a deep breath, trying to gather up the courage and willpower to speak again. He was gonna die from embarrassment, he just knew it.

Virgil took a breath and replied, “Uhuhum, Ihi lihike beheihing toho weheak toho fihighihit bahack ahand beheihing fohorcehed toho lahauhugh.” His face flushed to the same shade as Roman’s sash as he said this, knowing that they were never going to let him live this down. He glanced up to see the logical side writing his words down. The emo side could feel all of their eyes on him, looking him up and down, their eyes drilling into his worst spots, just begging to be able to wreck him for a second time and make his lee fantasy come true.

Remus shockingly wasn’t the first side to move towards the blushy side, it was Logan. The logical side was normally the last one to move towards the lee he was wrecking, often too busy observing the lee to actually wreck them until they were begging for him to do anything.

Logan was excited to wreck Virgil again, and he was showing it in his own way by rushing over to him. The logical side kneeled down next to the emo side’s stomach and rolled his shirt up to his ribs. He was looking at the spot, appearing almost rabid with need. The tie-clad side’s ler mood had gotten even stronger at the lee’s words, and Logan needed to wreck him now. The more he waited the worse the more his ler mood grew.

Janus pinned the emo side’s arms above his head once again with two of his arms, the other four resting above his ribs and armpits. Patton kneeled next to his ‘son’s’ knees as he hovered his hands over the spot. Roman straddled the purple side’s thighs again, pinning his legs down with his weight as he looked down at the current lee’s stomach. Remus was moving towards Virgil’s feet, sitting on his calves so he couldn’t pull his feet back, nor kick his legs at all, he pulled his toes back with one hand and rested the other on his foot.

The anticipation was going to kill the anxious side. As each of the sides walked to get in their positions Virgil’s face steadily got redder and his smile became more difficult to fight off. He was so close to getting what wanted again, yet the other sides were stopping as soon as they got into their positions.

“Guhuys pleheahase! Juhust doho ihit ahalreheady!”, the emo side begged, giggling from anticipation.

“I mean… he did say please,” the fatherly side stated. As much as Patton loved teasing his son, he wanted to actually wreck him now. He wanted to give his son what he wanted, so he was going to.

“Padre’s right. He’s been so polite recently and he answered Calculator Watch’s question, we should reward him for being such a good lee.”

The other 3 sides nodded in agreement as they exchanged glances with each other, shit eating grins on all their faces. As they looked at each other they nodded, communicating without speaking.

“Three…”

“Two…”

“ONE!”

As soon as they yelled out the last number they all pounced on the emo side. Janus scratching at his ribs and armpits, switching between lighter and rougher tickles. Roman fluttering his fingers on his stomach, keeping all his touches feather light. Remus scritching at his toes, never giving the emo side a break from the tickly sensations and keeping him on his toes, literally. Patton alternated between squeezing each of his knees, not letting his son get used to the sensations. Logan alternated between squeezing his sides and helping the fanciful wreck the anxious side’s stomach.

Virgil arched his back as he screamed in laughter. He had never experienced such intense ticklish sensations, especially not all at once. He couldn’t even process all the sensations coursing through his body and he swore he was going to explode from them.

“N-NAHAHA! GUHUHAHAHA!”, the emo side screeched desperately, not even able to form words anymore. All he could do is throw his head back in laughter and take it. His body wouldn’t let him squirm, far too overwhelmed by all the sensations being forced upon it.

He loved it.

The emo side hadn’t felt that care free in a long time. It was… nice to be able to let go and laugh and not have to worry about anything else then the tickly sensations attacking your body and having laughter forced out. It was something that the normally grumpy and edgy side truly needed.

“IHI- IHI CAHAHA! HAHAHA!”

The five lers looked at each other, slightly concerned. They knew the patchwork hoodie-clad side had asked for this, but wasn’t he reaching his limit? This was a lot for anyone, especially for the embodiment of anxiety who wasn’t used to physical touch.

“Kiddo, are you okay? Do you need a break?”

“IHIM F-FIHAHAHA!”, his words once again got lost in the midst of his hysterical laughter. Even though he couldn’t finish his sentence he was telling the truth, he was fine. Actually he was better than fine. He was amazing. This was exactly what he wanted, to be tickled to his limits, to not be able to fight back. Some people might say it was extreme but his lee mood was too bad to really care about that. Not that he could actually think, his mind was too busy trying to process what he was feeling to think many coherent thoughts.

At his words the other sides continued to wreck him for a few more minutes until the emo side cried out “S-SAHAND- SAHANDEHER-.”

They all pulled back immediately as they heard the safeword. All five lers looked at the emo side to see if he needed anything at that moment before he could speak coherently again. The fanciful side got off of his hips and the deceitful side let go of his arms and slowly worked the lee’s arms down from their position.

As soon as Virgil was free to move again he curled into a ball to protect his spots, still feeling ghost sensations all over his body. He was still giggling from ghost sensations on his stomach, knees, feet, armpits, and ribs.

“Ohoho gohod, thahat wahas amahazihinig! Thahank yohouhu guhuys!”

The other sides awwed at him again. He was just too cute for the others to handle sometimes. The normally stoic and edgy side was giggling and thanking them for tickles, it was just adorable and the paternal side wished he could take a picture of the sight of a flustered, giggling Virgil.

“Would you like anything? Water? Snacks?”, the logical side questioned, immediately slipping back into his almost motherly role with Virgil.

The wrecked side shook his head and just giggled as he said “Cuhuhddlehes?!”

There he was again, being adorable. The other sides awwwed again as they walked back over to the emo side to give him what they wanted cause…

How could they say no to that?

#my shitty writing #lee!virgil #ler!patton #ler!logan #ler!janus #ler!remus #ler!roman #sanders sides fic #sanders sides tickling

85 notes · View notes

yxlenas · 4 years

Note

Allisaac + “Touch her, and you’re dead.”

Heavily implied vampires, explicit vomiting due to Allison having a wicked concussion.

Allison’s head hurts, a slow, dull throb behind her right eye. Her face feels wet, and she can feel something rubbing against her wrists that makes her think of training with her dad. Her stomach rolls miserably as she blinks, light slipping behind her eyelids for a brief second before she squeezes them shut again, whimpering. It hurts, it hurts so bad, and she wants to throw up so she does, leaning forward and hoping it misses most of her jeans. She’s too out of it to tell.

“Baby,” a voice hisses, “Allison. Allison, open your eyes.”

“Hurts,” she slurs, letting her head roll back onto whatever she’s tied to, “Hurts.”

“I know it hurts,” the voice hisses, “But I also know you’re concussed and that you need to wake up so you don’t get brain damage.”

The voice makes a good point, and Allison forces a single eye open and lets it roll around the room, well, dark creepy basement, she’s found herself in.

“Good job,” the voice praises, and Allison rolls her eye toward the voice. Isaac is sitting across from her in the basement, tied to a chair just like her. She’s assuming the ropes are soaked in wolfsbane because he’s still attached to the chair, and she can smell it from across the room, along with something coppery and something acidic. She looks down at herself and sees the remnants of her school lunch on her jeans and her shoes. Allison whines, low in the back of her raw throat.

“Hi,” she slurs at Isaac across the creepy dark basement they’re in, “I don’t feel good.”

“I know,” he says, fiddling against the ropes holding him to the chair. Allison blinks and there are two of him, then blinks again and there’s just one. The coppery smell must be blood. Isaac has it down the front of his shirt and in thick relief on the side of his neck, and it’s staining his wrists where the rope rubs.

“St- Isaac-” but she can’t get her brain to make sentences.

“Ally,” Isaac says sharply, “I need you to listen to me. You stay awake, and stay quiet, okay?”

“No,” she moans, “I want to go home.”

“I know,” he grunts, and then makes a pained groaning sound and there’s a dull thunk and splintering, “But I need you to be quiet, and stay awake for me.”

She searches for him again, not realizing she’d closed her eyes. He’s still got the ropes around him but he’s standing up, the chair shattered on the floor. He kneels in front of her and starts to untie her.

“The ropes,” she mumbles, “Wolfsbane.”

“I know,” he says, pausing to brush hair back from her face, “I know. It’s okay. You just focus on staying with me, alright? I’ll worry about the wolfsbane later. Okay. Allison, I need you to stand up for me.

“Dizzy,” she slurs, “Don’t wanna.”

“Hey,” Isaac says, sharper than he normally ever talks to her, “I need you to help me here, babe. I can’t carry you out of here.”

She stands up. Her stomach rolls and she pukes bile on Isaac’s already ruined shirt, slumping forward. It takes him time to catch her, and he grunts with her weight.

“You’re hurt,” she gasps out, bracing her forehead against his collarbone. She realizes they’re walking, her feet dragging along the dirty ground. Isaac is breathing hard, pressing a kiss to her temple as they stop at the bottom of a set of stairs.

“I-I can’t,” she coughs out, “I can’t- just leave me here.”

“Fuck that,” Isaac snaps, “Get on my back. I need you to hold on, try and support some of your own weight, okay?”

She nods against the back of his neck once he’s got her up, wrapping shaky legs around his waist.

“Keep talking to me,” he tells her, “When are you going prom dress shopping.”

“I can’t remember,” she moans, nestling her face against his neck. There’s still wet blood on it, and some of it is hot, a steady trickle. He’s still bleeding. He’s a werewolf, he shouldn’t still be bleeding. She’s too exhausted to point that out.

They’re in a big, empty house, the kind she’s seen out past Lydia’s neighborhood and close to the edges of the preserve. Once they’re up the stairs Isaac sets her on her feet and wraps an arm around her waist, letting her take a second to get her bearings. Allison feels her knees buckle and grabs at his shirt, taking faltering steps with Isaac’s help. His heart is beating hard and fast, and he’s struggling to breathe just like she is.

“Good job,” he murmurs into her hair, “You’re doing so well.” It would be patronizing if it were coming from anyone but Isaac, and if she was feeling any stronger than a piece of wet spaghett right now. She dry heaves without warning.

“‘Ve never had a concussion before,” she slurs, “Don’t like it.”

“Shhhh.” Isaac reminds her, and then-

She’s on the cold marble floor of the front hall, her head throbbing where it must have hit again. Isaac is snarling, hunched over her like a rabid animal.

“Touch her,” he growls, “and you’re dead.”

She doesn’t know who he’s talking to until a cold hand wraps around her ankle and yanks her back, away from Isaac. Allison screams as loud and long as she can, but she’s too weak to fight. A hand wraps around her throat and pins her to a wall. Isaac howls, and the house shakes with it. Allison squeezes her eyes shut when she sees what is in front of her because she’s convinced she’s hallucinating, but the thing is still in front of her when her eyes open again.

The person-thing-eldritch horror pinning her to the wall of the abandoned house has empty black eyes and sharp white teeth, mouth stained with blood. Allison lets out a high pitched laugh that turns into a scream when those sharp white teeth sink into her neck.

Something grabs the neck of the creature that’s drinking her blood (she hates her life) and yanks it off her. Allison has enough presence of mind to clamp her hand over the bleeding bite on her neck as she collapses to the floor, gasping and laughing, completely hysterical. The pain in her head is dull compared to the burning sensation in her freshly shredded neck. Someone grabs her from the floor and starts sprinting, so she screams.

“Easy,” Derek Hale says, “Keep pressure on that neck wound.”

“Isaac,” she sobs into his jacket, “They have Isaac-”

“Stay awake, Argent,” Derek snaps at her, when she feels her head start to fall back and starts to taste bile again.

“M’tired,” she slurs into his neck as he readjusts her head. She still doesn’t know where Isaac is. Her brain wants to sleep so badly, but everything hurts, her hair and her fingernails and her teeth, and Derek keeps telling her she can’t.

“Isaac,” she mumbles, as they slide in the back of a rumbling car that smells too much like exhaust to not make her retch, “Where’s Isaac?”

“Scott has him,” Derek says, “Stay with me, Allison.”

She wakes up in a dim room, IV in the back of one hand, Lydia holding the other. She wakes up screaming too, bolting to a seat and startling Lydia so badly that her nails gouge cuts in Allison’s skin.

“Where is he,” she realizes she’s sobbing but she can’t stop, “Where is he, Lydia where is he where is he where is he-”

“Shhhh, shhhhh Ally, shhhhhh,” Lydia is whispering, stroking Allison’s hair gently, and Allison realizes just how much pain she’s in, how much her head is throbbing and her neck is burning and Allison’s screaming turns into tears because it all hurts so, so much-

“Hi, Allison,” Melissa McCall says, and there’s a needle in one hand, “I’m going to give you something to help you calm down, honey.”

“Isaac,” she gasps, pulling her hand back from Melissa even though she knows how IV lines work, knows there’s ports for medication higher in the line, “Where’s Isaac, is he okay where is he they had him, they had him when Derek pulled me out-”

“Allison,” Melissa says gently, “Allison, Isaac is fine.”

“I want to see him,” she stutters out, “No, no, don’t give me that I want to see him.”

“If you let me give you this,” Melissa says, “I will take you to see Isaac. I promise. But you’re pretty beat up, and you’re going to want this the second I get you out of this bed and into a wheelchair.”

Her legs are fine, she figures out. There’s a thick line of purple bruising around one ankle where she was grabbed, but other than that they’re okay. Her neck has a few stitches in it, and she has a moderate concussion. Standing up to get into the wheelchair is enough to make her head spin, and she sits back down with a huff of breath and a squeeze of Lydia’s hand. Isaac is a floor up and three rooms from the elevator, wide awake, playing cards with Derek as a bag of blood drains into him. He’s not healing.

“Why aren’t you healing,” she asks him tiredly, and then he’s dragging himself out of his bed, wavering on his feet, grabbing his IV stand. Allison can’t help the smile that breaks out across her face when he grabs her face and kisses her full on the mouth, even when he stands up, stumbles back, and grabs at Derek to stay on his feet.

“You,” Melissa says, pointing an accusatory finger at her second son, “get back in that bed. You lost too much blood to even be slightly mobile by normal human standards, so act like it. Allison, I can help you on his bed if you want.”

Oh, God, she wants.

“I thought we were fucked,” Isaac tells her, as Derek and Lydia deal out the cards so they can play poker with the coins in Derek’s jacket pocket, “I woke up in that basement and you were unconscious and I could barely breathe and wow, I thought we were done for.”

“Yeah can we maybe not get kidnapped again anytime soon?” she slurs. Whatever Melissa gave her for the pain, it’s really kicking in. She’s tired and warm and Isaac is holding her tight

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, kissing her temple, “Do you not enjoy being tied to chairs in creepy basements with me?”

She shakes her head and nestles against his neck, closing her eyes.

“I’ll try to work on that,” he whispers.

They’re both out cold before Lydia and Derek finish the poker setup.

#Allisaac #Isaac Lahey #Allison Argent #Derek Hale #Lydia Martin #Electricbluebutterflies #Cecilia Writes

18 notes · View notes

i-used-to-wear-the-fedora · 5 years

Text

The Witcher Fanfic, Lost Things, A Baby in the Elm

"O'er the fields we go in search of adventure, for-"

"Jaskier. For the love of everything, shut up." Geralt grunted out they rode through the forest down the gravel path. The bard huffed as he reluctantly put his lute away.

"Geralt, please we've been on the road for days. I'm starving and bored and you don't exactly make for good conversation." Jaskier was close behind his witcher, sighing dramatically.

"Izolatka is just a few hours away and you can quit your bitching."

"I will bitch as much as I damn well plea-"

"Shhhhhh." Geralt cut Jaskier off as he looked around. Dismounting Roache, Geralt looked around, hand going to his sword.

"What is it?" Jaskier whispered.

"Listen." Jaskier followed his witcher's orders. It took a moment before he heard it. A muffled sobbing. Like a baby's. Many creatures often imitated a child's cries to lure in unsuspecting strangers. Geralt followed the noise and Jaskier was close behind. No obvious monsters in sight but that wasn't surprising.

Instead, at the bottom of a large elm tree was a bundle of grayish blankets. The crying got louder when Geralt used the hilt of his sword to flip some of the blanket aside. No terrifying monster. Just the red tear stained of an incredibly young infant.

"Melitele's Tit Geralt, it's a baby!" Jaskier exclaimed. Reaching down instinctively and holding the baby. The infant cried loudly as Jaskier bounced her in an attempt to soothe it. "Shhh, shhh, it's okay. Please stop crying...." Jaskier hummed but this didn't seem to help. "Fucking hell....who leaves a baby alone like this I'm the middle of nowhere."

"Hmmm." Geralt kneeled down in front of the tree. A small pile of glistening ash lay where the baby had been. "Fae."

"What?"

"Fae were involved." Geralt got up, walking over to Jaskier and the still sobbing child. "Most likely the result of a changeling switch."

"Changeling switch?"

"Fae steal human children and replace with their own. They tend to leave the human babies to fend for themselves in the wilderness."

"That's fucked up."

"Very." Geralt's nose twitched. "And you're not holding her right."

"What?" Jaskier asked confused. Geralt took the child in his arms, lifting her head up slightly and rocking her back and forth. Immediately the baby slowed her crying, eyes slowly opening to reveal bright green eyes staring back at them. "How did you know...?"

"I could feel it." Geralt replied curtly. "She doesn't like your face."

"What?"

"You make her very uncomfortable." Jaskier made a face, staring down at the now calm child annoyed. Geralt stood straight up and turned to the bard. "Give me your undershirt."

"Excuse me?"

"You clearly can't hold her and I'm riding Roache so I need something to carry her."

"I could ride Roache."

"No. Undershirt...please." Jaskier wanted to protest but began to unbutton his shirt.

"Fine but only because you said please." The bard took the undershirt off and handed it over to the Witcher. Fashioning it into a makeshift baby carrier the child cooed. "You're lucky you're so cute."

"The baby, or me?"

"Both." Jaskier huffed, Geralt mounting Roache with a small smile. "We better get to Izolatka soon."

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #baby fic #fanfic #fae

109 notes · View notes

jaxl-road · 5 years

Text

Better Watch Out

Motley Crue and Guns N Roses have a Secret Santa gift exchange. What could go wrong?

Pairings: Nikki/Tommy, Slash/Axl, Duff/Izzy

This beast is over 10,000 words long, just fyi -_-;

(Also on AO3)

~~~~~~~

“WHY are there so many people in our tiny ass apartment?” Nikki groaned, running a hand through his hair.

Axl scoffed, “You guys hold ragers in your ‘tiny ass apartment’ practically every night.”

“Yeah, but I’m usually wasted when that happens. Right now I’m sober.”

“That’s your own fault,” Duff smirked, taking a long sip from his water bottle that everyone was suddenly positive was not filled with water.

Nikki sighed as Tommy skipped over and patted him on the shoulder. Their dilapidated living room was packed full with the members of Motley Crue and Guns N’ Roses. It was late morning, which in Nikki’s opinion was way too early to be dealing with this many rockers in his apartment. Mick and Slash were sitting on the couch, the former looking annoyed and the latter looking calm and content (or in other words, high). Vince sat next to them on the back of the couch, glaring childishly at Axl who was sprawled across the armchair and looking far too at home in the blonde’s opinion. Izzy leaned against the back of the armchair, smirking in the direction of where Duff was standing, the bassist now casually holding his water bottle above his head while Steven tried in vain to snag it. Finally, still standing at the start of the hallway, Tommy threw an arm around Nikki’s shoulder to keep the dark haired man from returning to bed.

“Come on, Nikki, don’t be grumpy!”

“Have you met Nikki?”

“This is gonna be fun!” Tommy grinned, ignoring Slash’s comment, even as Nikki flipped the guitarist off. “Steven had the best idea, so I invited them all over!”

“Ah fuck, the drummers are responsible for this?” Mick leaned his head back dramatically to stare at the ceiling, “This is going to be more annoying than I thought.”

Steven laughed, moving to stand by Tommy and Nikki, “If by ‘annoying’, you mean FUN!”

“I do not.”

“Anyway,” Steven clapped his hands, “We’re gonna do a Secret Santa!”

There was a long pause as all eyes stared at the blonde drummer and processed his words.

Then they all started talking at once.

“What?” Nikki exclaimed.

“Oh Hell no,” Mick muttered.

“Oh Hell YES!” Slash countered.

“Presents? Presents!” Vince’s eyes lit up, “Gimme pretty things! Whoever gets me I have a list for you!”

“This is going to blow up spectacularly, and honestly I’m down for it,” Duff shrugged.

Izzy sighed and leaned his head on his hand, “See I’m torn. I want to watch the chaos, but I don’t want to be involved in the chaos. Dilemmas, dilemmas.”

Axl leaned back, letting his head hang over the arm of his seat. Narrowing his eyes, he pointed at Steven, “I will agree on ONE CONDITION.”

The attention of the room shifted to the red-head. Steven cocked his head curiously, “What?”

“We do this game on hard-mode.”

“I’m going to regret asking,” Mick sighed, “but what’s hard-mode?”

Crossing his arms, Axl answered firmly, “No giving drugs or alcohol as a gift.”

Immediately, there was a riot.

“Oh COME ON!”

“But I WANT drugs and alcohol!”

“These fuckers’ entire personality is based around drugs and alcohol, what the fuck else am I supposed to get them?”

“If I don’t get Vodka, Christmas is cancelled.”

“You can’t just-”

“Izzy, take Christmas away from Axl!”

“It’s cute you think I have any power over him.”

“Hey! HEY!” Tommy shouted, finally getting everyone’s attention and putting a stop to the bickering. “Look, I love drugs as much as the rest of you, but I have to admit, I think it’s a good idea,” he rolled his eyes when several people groaned in response, “It makes it more of a challenge!”

It took a bit of convincing, but eventually the group reluctantly conceded, Axl smirking victoriously. With the rockers appeased, Steven pulled a top hat out of seemingly nowhere.

Slash sat up straight and glared, “Hey! I’ve been looking for that!”

Ignoring him, Steven tossed about the small pieces of paper inside the hat, “Okay, we’ve got everyone’s names written down, so take one and pass it. And no peeking!” As the names got passed around, Steven continued, “So, I don’t think we need a price limit, cause we’re all pretty broke.”

“We know, but hey!” Vince muttered as he took the hat.

“How about we meet up for the exchange one week from today?”

“At your place, next time,” Nikki huffed.

Axl shrugged, “Whatever, fair enough.”

“Cool,” Nikki nodded, “Now get the fuck out of our apartment.”

~~~~~~~

Izzy would be the first to admit that he hadn’t been on board with the whole Secret Santa thing at first. He didn’t dislike Christmas or anything, but he wasn’t a hugely festive person either. So the idea of partaking in a theoretically light-hearted game with a group of hardrockers didn’t exactly appeal to him.

That is, until Duff came home the next day with an armful of Christmas lights.

“Woah,” Slash chuckled as the bassist walked past with strings of lights trailing behind him, “what, did you rob Whoville or something?”

Grinning, Duff opened his arms to let the mass of lights fall onto the ground in the middle of the living room, “I will neither confirm nor deny where I got these.”

“Fuck yeah, I didn’t think we were gonna decorate the place!” Steven smiled excitedly.

Shrugging, Duff looked away, a touch of embarrassment on his face, only noticeable if you were looking (and Izzy was always looking), “I dunno, I wasn’t planning to at first. I never really got into the holidays, even when I was younger. But since we’re doing the Secret Santa thing with the Crue, I figured, why not?”

He smiled so shyly, and Izzy’s heart fluttered.

That was when he realized that he’d been handed the perfect opportunity. Izzy had been crushing on the tall blonde for awhile now, much to Axl’s amusement and Izzy’s torment. But he’d be the first to admit that he wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings, and everytime he had Duff’s full attention he forgot every word he had ever practiced in front of the mirror and ended up chickening out and running away to get high (he’d also tried getting high first, but the results were the same).

So maybe, giving Duff a gift was the perfect way to try to confess his feelings; a way to help take some of the pressure off his words.

And watching Steven and Slash wrap the lights around Duff, seeing him twirl and laugh when they plugged them in, looking at the way the lights reflected in his eyes and illuminated his smile, Izzy knew he was going to need all the help he could get.

~~~~~

If Nikki was going to participate in this Secret Santa bullshit (and not even get any coke out of it) then he was going to fucking give a gift to Tommy and no one else. He had already been trying to psych himself up to do some sort of romantic holiday shit, but the game with the two bands provided a perfect opportunity. The only thing standing in his way was the name scrawled on the scrap of paper in his hand.

Izzy

Leaning heavily on the kitchen table, Nikki steeled himself for the trip he was about to make. It wasn’t like he could judge Guns N’ Roses for their living situation, given the squalor Motley Crue currently called a home, but it always felt weird seeing them by himself. He didn’t like being outnumbered.

But from what he could tell, neither Vince nor Mick had Tommy’s name (if they did, they’d be teasing him incessantly)(he still didn’t understand how his feelings managed to be so blatant to Vince and Mick while still going right over Tommy’s head). So that meant someone in the other band had his drummer’s name, and he was going to get it if it was the last thing he did.

~~~~~

It was weird for anyone to knock on their door when the sun was still out, Slash thought as he cautiously made his way to the entrance. Cracking the door open, wondering if any of the idiots he lived with had done anything worth a house visit from the cops lately, he was instead met with the wild black hair and smudged eyeliner of none other than the very person he was tasked with finding a gift for.

“Oh,” the guitarist blinked in surprise, opening the door wider, “What’s up Sixx? Wasn’t expecting you.”

“No one ever expects me. My presence is either surprising or disappointing, but never anticipated.”

Rolling his eyes, Slash moved aside to let the other man inside, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you drama queen.”

“I don’t think you can call me a drama queen in good faith when you live with fucking Axl.”

“You got me there,” he chuckled, “But seriously, what brings you to our humble Hell House?”

Sighing heavily, Nikki cut straight to the chase, “Did you get Tommy’s name for the Secret Santa?”

Slash raised an eyebrow, “I thought this thing was supposed to be, you know… secret?”

“Oh fuck off,” Nikki huffed, “No one in Crue has it, which means someone here does, and I fucking want it.”

“Why?”

“…Cause.”

“Ooooooh,” a slow grin spread on the guitarist’s face, “I get it.”

“Don’t-”

“You’ve got a cru~ush~” he sang teasingly.

“Shut up!” Nikki shoved him lightly, his cheeks reddening as he scowled.

Slash laughed, “Okay, okay, jeez! To be honest I assumed you guys were already a thing. Like, sometimes I can’t tell where one of you ends and the other begins. It’s super gross.” He gave an exaggerated shudder.

“Oh please, you and Axl are always fucking hanging off each other.”

Sputtering, Slash gaped, “We do not!”

Blinking, Nikki raised his eyebrows in surprise, “Holy shit. Don’t tell me you two aren’t actually a couple.”

“Keep your voice down, he’s in the other room!”

“Holy shit! And you were fucking with me about Tommy!”

“Shhhhhh!” Slash covered the bassist mouth with his hands, “Okay, alright, we’re both lovesick idiots. I’ll tell you who has Tommy’s name and then we can both never speak of this again, deal?”

Smirking, Nikki pushed his hands away, “Deal.”

Nodding, Slash crossed his arms, “I heard Axl complaining about having to shop for ‘fucking sunshine drummers’.”

“Let’s be real, that could mean Tommy or Steven,” Nikki pointed out.

Slash shrugged, “If it had been Steven he wouldn’t have kept his voice down.”

“You know what? That’s fair.” Nodding decisively, he turned to walk into the next room, “Thanks man.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Turning the corner, Nikki found himself in a small, dingy kitchen, empty save for the red-headed singer sitting on the counter. He was kicking his legs back and forth, a mug in one hand and a book in his lap. He looked so peaceful and innocent, but Nikki knew better than to let his guard down around the little terror.

Point made when the singer’s head snapped up as he entered, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Good to see you too, Rose.”

Axl’s only response was to quirk an eyebrow, so Nikki sighed, “Look, I need a favor.”

That made Axl’s eyes light up in interest, “Oh?”

Yeah, Nikki was gonna be fucked. Asking Axl for a favor was like making a deal with the devil. But, well, desperate fucking times and all. “Yeah,” he glanced away, “I heard you got Tommy’s name for the Secret Santa. Is that true?”

“Maybe,” Axl drawled, placing his mug and book to the side so he could lean forward and give Nikki his full attention, “What of it?”

“I want to trade.”

“Hm,” the singer considered for a minute. Finally he jerked his head at the bassist, “Whose name did you get?”

“Izzy,” he replied, “He’s like, your best friend, right? So it’s perfect.”

Axl snorted, “I don’t like him that much.” He tilted his head side to side as he thought. Nikki held his breath, hoping to God that this could just be simple. But when Axl grinned slowly at him, he knew that he’d have no such luck.

“I’ll tell you what,” he offered, “I’ll give you Tommy, if you get me Slash.”

For a long minute, Nikki could only blink. Finally, he deadpanned, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” If he wasn’t certain that one or both of them would murder him on the spot, he’d just drag Slash in here right now and tell them to bang or whatever. But he was, in fact, certain that one or both of them would murder him on the spot. So.

“That’s my offer, take it or leave it,” Axl shrugged.

Goddamn pining idiots. “Ugh, fine!” Nikki threw his arms up in exasperation. He was pretty sure he knew who had Slash’s name, but it was going to be annoying as fuck.

Axl snickered as he stomped out of the house, shoving past Steven without a word. “What was that about?” The drummer questioned.

“Oh, you know,” Axl grinned, “just the holidays, bringing people together.”

~~~~~~

Izzy sighed from his spot outside the liquor store, pulling his jacket tighter around his body as he took a long drag from his cigarette. The slip of paper with Mick written on it weighed heavy in his pocket. He’d been eavesdropping on his bandmates, and as far as he could tell none of them had Duff’s name. The idea of trekking over to Motley Crue and asking one of them to trade made him wince.

Speak of the devil though. As he ground his cigarette under his heel, he saw a tall, curly haired drummer make his way over.

“Oh! Hey Izzy!” Tommy grinned, “Fancy meeting you here!”

“Yeah,” Izzy shrugged, “Just grabbing a couple things. Too lazy to go all the way to the market.”

“I know that feeling,” Tommy laughed.

Eyeing him carefully, Izzy tried to keep his voice casual as he asked impulsively, “So, how’s the Secret Santa shopping going?”

To his surprise, Tommy’s face fell a little, “Oh, it’s fine. I don’t really know what to get them though,” he rubbed the back of his neck and mumbled to himself, “I was kind of hoping to get a different bassist…”

No fucking way.

Izzy gaped for a moment. What were the odds? He never got this lucky! “You got Duff?” He blurted out.

“Ah, fuck, it’s supposed to be a secret,” Tommy floundered.

“No, no, it’s cool!” Izzy was quick to calm him, “You want Nikki’s name, right?”

“Yeah,” the drummer admitted. Then he lit up, “Do you have his name?”

“Well, no…” Izzy confessed, “But, I was hoping to get Duff. So maybe we could…?” He trailed off, looking at the taller man expectantly.

Looking at the drummer though you’d think Izzy just kicked his puppy, “I really want Nikki though. He like, never celebrated Christmas, and sometimes the holidays make him sad, and I don’t want him to be sad, so I just want to get him something special, y’know?”

Yes. Izzy did know, because he was in a very similar situation. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Right. Okay. If I can get Nikki’s name though, you’ll trade with me?”

Perking back up, Tommy nodded enthusiastically, “Absolutely, dude!”

Nodding firmly in response, Izzy agreed, “Alright. It’s a deal.”

~~~~~~~~

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No!”

“Pleeeeeeease?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Mick slammed his magazine down, glaring at the bassist across from him, “Why the fuck do you want to trade so bad?”

“Because,” Nikki whined, “Why do you even care? You’re probably just going to get something generic no matter whose name you get.”

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Mick insisted.

“Come on, do you really want to deal with me annoying you over something that you couldn’t care less about? For that matter, do you really want me to bug you with all the bullshit details of why I need Slash’s name?”

“Fuck,” the guitarist muttered, even as he moved to rummage through his pockets, “I’ve been spending too much time around you crazy fuckers, ‘cause you’re starting to make sense.” He slapped the paper down, snatching the one Nikki offered in exchange, “You still owe me though.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll find some way to make it up to you,” Nikki grinned, jumping from his seat and running for the door, “Thanks, man!”

“Fuck you.”

~~~~~~~~

The club was packed, bodies pressing together and jumping to the beat of the loud, angry music. Slash sat at the bar with Duff and Axl, Steven and Izzy running late. Guns N Roses didn’t see Motley Crue perform too often, but apparently Nikki needed to meet up with Axl because of their Secret Santa bullshit, and the others tagged along out of habit. Slash figured it might give him some inspiration for what to get the bassist, anyway. The petty part of him wanted to tell him that directing him to Tommy’s name was his gift, but that felt cheap even for him.

But what the fuck did Nikki Sixx want, other than drugs and to fuck his drummer?

The crowd cheered loudly as the four rockers finished their set, making their way off stage as the next band began to set up. Axl chugged the rest of his drink, nodding at the others as he made his way towards the stage, presumably to meet up with Nikki. He and Duff chatted for a bit until the bassist was distracted by the bartender blatantly flirting. Slash rolled his eyes. He knew without a doubt that the tall blonde only had eyes for one person, but he was also the king of playing it up to get free drinks and, well, no one could fault him for that.

“Hey Slash!”

Turning at the sound of his name, he grinned as Tommy and Vince stumbled over to him, “Hey guys! Great show!”

“Thanks!”

“Hang on, I think I see a challenge,” Vince grinned deviously, abandoning Tommy and Slash in favor of competing with Duff for the bartender’s attention.

Slash snorted, shaking his head in amusement, “That’s not going to end well.”

Tommy laughed, swaying from alcohol or coke or both as he leaned against the bar and pushed sweaty curls out of his face, “Vince will be fine. If this doesn’t work out he’ll find another chick and be right as rain,” he waved his hand dismissively.

“Yeah, and I don’t think Duff will be heartbroken either.”

Sighing heavily, Tommy nodded, “Yeah, Duff’s a cool guy.” Biting his lip, he glanced away almost guiltily, “I feel bad for trying to trade his name away for the Santa thing…”

Slash blinked in surprise, “You got Duff?”

“Oh, Goddamn it!” Tommy exclaimed, “I am so bad at this fucking secret thing…”

Laughing, Slash patted his shoulder consolingly, “Hey man, it’s no biggie. Whose name are you trying to get, anyway?” He had a feeling he already knew.

Sure enough, Tommy sighed dreamily, “Nikki. He’s so great, y’know? And I just want to give him something special and nice so he knows I…. y’know,” he waved his hand vaguely.

Snorting, Slash reached into his pocket, “Oh, I know,” holding a hand out, Slash took pity on the kid. What could he say? The Terror Twins were fucking adorable. No matter how much he teased Nikki, he honestly didn’t mind helping them along.

Tommy blinked in confusion as he took Slash’s offering. When he saw what it was, his whole face lit up, smiling so wide it was practically blinding, “Dude! Seriously?!”

“Yup,” He motioned with his hand, and Tommy scrambled to give him his own paper, “Tidings of joy or whatever bullshit. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Seriously, dude, you’re the best!” Tommy wrapped the guitarist in a bone crushing hug, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

“Yeah, it’s cool, really, please, I can’t breath.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Izzy and Steven made it to the club during Motley Crue’s last song. Izzy had stopped by the house to change after working, finding Steven asleep on the couch. After shaking him awake (the drummer had completely forgotten about the group’s evening plans) they both made their way to the venue.

Despite snooping around, Izzy could not figure out who had Nikki’s name. He was starting to think someone from Crue must have it, or worse, Duff, which would make for an awkward affair if the blonde wanted to know why he wanted to trade. So he made up his mind to just grovel to the best of his ability and get Tommy to trade with him anyway.

The crowds, mixed with the loud music and the flashing lights made it hard to find anyone. Izzy and Steven eventually got separated, and he ran into Vince, who was too busy cozying up to a busty brunette to pay him much mind. For the first hour or so, he drifted around the floor, listening to the current band, occasionally snagging freebies from the rare fans who recognized him. Tired, and assuming that the Crue had already made their way back to their apartment for an afterparty, he made his way to the bar. As soon as he arrived, he flagged down the bartender and took two shots in quick succession, impatient to get a pleasant buzz going.

Looking across the bar, he finally found familiar faces. Duff was obviously well on his way to wasted, laughing at something with Axl, Slash, and Steven. Quickly slipping over to them, his bandmates greeted him enthusiastically.

“Izzy! We were wondering where you disappeared to!” Steven exclaimed.

“We missed you, buddy!” Duff grinned and slung an arm around Izzy’s waist and okay, screw Tommy, he wasn’t moving from this spot for the rest of the night. He pointedly ignored Axl’s knowing look and the conversation picked back up, the five friends laughing cheerfully and Duff’s hand warm on his hip.

He’d deal with the Secret Santa thing tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~

This was not supposed to be this hard.

Nikki had been wracking his brains on what to get Tommy. It needed to be something heartfelt, something Tommy would understand was supposed to be special, but still simple enough that he could give it to the drummer in front of the two bands. Ultimately, he decided that something homemade would be perfect- Tommy would lose his shit over Nikki putting actual time and effort into his gift.

That was how Nikki found himself in Motley Crue’s kitchen at 10am trying- and seriously, emphasis on trying- to bake cookies.

He had a limited window where he had the apartment to himself, and immediately took advantage of it. Baking supplies had been hidden in his room for the last day to keep the others from giving him shit or finding out his plan. The bag of chocolate chips had a recipe on the back, and Nikki could fucking read, so he figured it’d be easy.

The problem started when he realized that while he had purchased ingredients, he had forgotten to consider that their apartment was almost completely devoid of actual baking equipment. The biggest ‘bowl’ they had was an old metal pot, and he was forced to stir with a soup spoon.

Measuring was also tricky, since he hadn’t even thought about picking up measuring cups or anything. But hey, how hard could it be to eyeball it? They had cups, he could fill it halfway just fine.

Judging by the smoke coming out of the oven, it was not fine at all.

Sighing in frustration, Nikki scraped the paper thin and charred pastries into the sink. He had his fingers crossed for the next batch, saying a quick prayer to whoever was listening as he scooped them sloppily and slid them into the oven, not bothering to wait for the single sheet pan they owned to cool down.

He was standing impatiently in the middle of the kitchen when someone pounded on the door. Furrowing his brows, he didn’t know who to expect. People usually only knocked if they were there about a noise complaint, but the apartment was currently silent.

Opening the door, he was faced with a tired and hungover looking Izzy Stradlin.

The bassist had barely opened his mouth before Izzy was cutting him off, “I just need to talk to Tommy real quick.”

Raising an eyebrow, Nikki crossed his arms, “Why?”

“Because,” he ran a hand over his face, “Look, can I just-” he stopped suddenly, finally taking in the man in front of him, “Why the fuck are you covered in cocaine?”

Blinking in confusion, Nikki looked down at himself before sighing at the sight of his flour covered shirt, “It’s not cocaine. You know I’d never waste coke like this,” he gestured at himself.

“Then what-” Izzy paused again, this time his eyes widening as he glanced over Nikki’s shoulder, “-the FUCK is going on in your kitchen?!”

Spinning around, Nikki cursed loudly at the sight of black smoke wafting from the other room. Sprinting to the oven, he threw the door open, coughing when a wave of smoke billowed out. He snatched a dish towel and recklessly grabbed the tray of cookies, throwing the whole thing into the sink. Izzy, who had run up behind him, quickly reached over and flipped the faucet on, steam mixing with the smoke until the entire kitchen was in a haze.

Both rockers coughed and sputtered, waving their hands around their faces. “What the actual fuck, dude!” Izzy cried incredulously, “Were you cooking meth or something?”

Groaning, Nikki dropped his head onto the counter roughly, letting his hair hide the tears of frustration that threatened to well over, “I fucking wish.”

Glancing around the disaster zone of the kitchen, Izzy slowly pieced together what had happened, “Were you… baking?”

“Well I was trying!” Nikki shouted, tugging at his hair and still face down on the counter, “But I’m such a fuckup I can’t even do something as simple as make a fucking batch of fucking cookies without it literally going up in fucking flames!”

Okay, so Izzy definitely had not anticipated this when he came over. Hesitantly, he reached out to pat Nikki awkwardly on the back, “Um. There, there?” He glanced around helplessly, “Where the fuck is the rest of your band, maybe one of them could help with…”

“They’re not here right now,” Nikki finally straightened up, looking utterly miserable, “Vince is shacking up with whatever girl of the week he’s got, Mick is dealing with his ex, and Tommy’s at work.”

Izzy took a deep breath through his nose, trying to resist tearing his hair out, “Right. Okay, I’ll… make you a deal,” he grit out. How many fucking deals was he going to have to make this week?

“What?” Nikki mumbled.

“I’ll help you salvage your baking project if you tell me where Tommy works so I can fucking talk to him.”

“Really?” the bassist looked at him wide eyed and hopeful, “You’ll help? And not fucking tell anyone?” he tacked on with a glare.

“Yes, yes, whatever, let’s just do this so I can get out of here,” he looked around, “Where are your measuring cups?”

“Um…”

Izzy pinched the bridge of his nose. Lord have mercy.

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

Steven hummed to himself from his spot laying on the couch in their living room. In his pocket was a scrap of paper with Axl scrawled on it. The drummer wanted so badly to get him something good- the singer was his best friend! Well, okay so maybe he considered all the members of Guns N’ Roses his best friend. And okay, maybe there was room for him and Axl to be better friends, but that was why this Secret Santa gift was important! It was a chance for Steven to build their relationship a little more. The problem was, he had no idea what Axl would want. He’d been wracking his brain all morning, but nothing felt right.

At that moment, laughter rang out from the kitchen, light and carefree, “Hey! Get your own!” Steven could hear the smile in Axl’s voice.

Hopping to his feet, he peeked around the corner into the kitchen. Axl was indeed smiling, no matter how hard he tried to look annoyed. Slash was grinning widely as he held a mug of coffee just out of the red-head’s reach, “Sharing is caring, Sweetheart!”

Axl was pressed against the guitarist’s back, his chin resting on Slash’s shoulder as he stretched his arms out to try to reach the mug Slash held in front of him. When Slash finally broke away, rushing to take two large gulps of the coffee, Axl gasped in exaggerated offense, “You asshole! It’s not sharing if you don’t leave any for me!”

Slash laughed, “I’ll give you more of the next mug.”

“Oh no, you wanted my cup? Fine,” the singer rushed to the coffee maker, grabbing the entire pot and holding it to his chest, “But THIS is mine!”

“What! No way! I can’t survive on one cup of coffee!”

“Serves you right!” Axl ran out of the kitchen, shouting between childlike laughs as Slash chased after him, complaining loudly even as his face showed nothing but joy. Listening to the two musicians as their voices rang through the house, Steven was struck by inspiration, a grin spreading slowly across his face.

He knew what to get Axl for Christmas.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy sighed as another stack of plates was placed next to him, grabbing the first one to start scraping off excess food. God, he couldn’t wait until Motley Crue started making enough that they could all quit their shitty jobs. Washing dishes all day wasn’t that bad, but it wasn’t how he wanted to spend his day, either. He tossed his head back, trying to get a strand of hair that had come loose from his ponytail out of his face, when he heard some sort of commotion out in the restaurant.

He didn’t think much of it at first, shitty customers weren’t that uncommon. But then the voices started getting closer.

“Sir, you cannot go back there-”

“I’ll just be a minute.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave-”

“Yeah, yeah, in a minute.”

The voices were right outside the door, and just as Tommy turned, Izzy Stradlin burst in, followed closely by one of the managers. The guitarist looked frazzled, his hair a wild mess, dark circles under his eyes, and what looked like some sort of batter smeared on his shirt.

“Tommy! Fucking finally,” Izzy muttered, steadfastly ignoring the manager that was still trying to talk to him.

“Izzy? What the Hell are you-”

“Look, I have no idea who has Nikki’s name. Can you please just switch with me? I’ll owe you one or whatever, just do this one favor for me.”

Blinking slowly, it took Tommy a moment to figure out what Izzy was talking about. When he finally caught up, he winced, “Oooooh fuck.” Izzy stared at him, the manager still standing to the side just watching. “Um,” Tommy shuffled awkwardly, “I actually….”

“What?”

Gulping nervously, Tommy finally spit it out, “I don’t have Duff’s name anymore.“

Silence stretched for a long minute, Izzy staring blankly while Tommy’s manager looked back and forth between them in confusion. Finally, Izzy slowly stalked forward and Tommy was pretty sure he was about to get murdered.

Izzy stopped just inches away from him, “Who does?”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Slash, I need you to make out with Axl.”

Sputtering, Slash practically spit out his water in surprise and dismay, “What? Why??”

Taking a deep breath, Steven explained, “Okay, so I got Axl for the Secret Santa, right?” Slash opened his mouth, but Steven barreled on before he could speak, “And I want to get him something good, cause I love the dude. And I couldn’t figure out what to get him, cause like, what does Axl even want? But then I realized, he wants you!” Grinning widely, Steven didn’t even register the deep shade of red blooming across Slash’s face, “I’m pretty sure he wants you more than anything. So for his gift I figured I’d get you to kiss him! So will you do it? Please?”

Swallowing thickly, Slash brought one hand up, pushing his hair to try to hide his flaming face, “I- Um- …Hang on, I need to process this.”

Thankfully, Steven was happy to stand patiently while Slash’s brain rebooted. Logically, the guitarist knew on some level that his feelings for the red-head were mutual. At least, he hoped. After all, who’s to say their flirtation wasn’t just a friendly joke to Axl? He’d always been too anxious about being rejected to make any sort of blatant move; to do anything that didn’t have some element of plausible deniability.

But… Nikki had thought that they were already a couple. And now Steven was saying Axl wanted him. And, well…

That had to mean something, right?

Inhaling deeply, Slash finally met Steven’s gaze, “Okay. So. I see what you’re saying. But our Secret Santa gifts are going to be exchanged in front of a group, and do you really think Axl would appreciate me kissing him in front of an audience?” Just saying it had Slash’s blush reigniting.

Steven’s face fell, “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Yeah. But… why don’t we trade names? And I’ll, uh, kiss Axl after the gift exchanged,” Jesus Christ he felt like a middle schooler. Fucking Axl messing with his fucking emotions.

The drummer hummed in consideration, “… You’ll tell him I helped though? Because I still want you making out with him to be my gift to him.”

“Fucking Hell, yes I’ll let you take credit if everything works out, so just stop talking and give me his damn name!”

Laughing, Steven swapped paper with the guitarist, “My work here is done.”

~~~~~~~~~

Axl glared at nothing as he stalked down the street. He was a fucking idiot. Why had he gone to the trouble of getting Slash’s name for the Secret Santa when he didn’t even know what the fuck to get him? He knew the type of shit the guitarist liked, and so in theory getting him a gift shouldn’t be that hard. But he wanted to give the other man a gift that would say something. Something that would maybe help… push things forward.

Unless Slash didn’t actually like Axl that way. In which case Axl needed to be able to laugh and say he was overthinking it. Plausible deniability and all.

Sighing, he wandered into another shop. This one seemed mostly full of novelties and souvenirs for tourists. He drifted aimlessly, kicking himself for getting into this situation and debating about just trading Slash’s name away to someone. But just as he was turning to leave the store, eyes burning with hopelessness, something caught his eye.

Picking up the item, he considered it carefully. It wasn’t some intimate symbol or heartfelt offering, but that almost made it better. Just something simple that would make Slash laugh and maybe hint at something more. Smiling, he swallowed back the lingering nervousness long enough to place the item on the counter to buy it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Slash kneeled on the floor, rifling through the single drawer of the coffee table in the living room. He was pretty sure he’d seen a spool of thread in there at one point…

There was a bundle of fabric shoved under the guitarist’s mattress in his room which had been there for almost two months now. The pattern had jumped out at him when he had passed a small stand where an older woman had been selling various crafts and knick-knacks on the street. At the time, he’d had no idea what to do with it, even as he shoved some crumpled bills into the woman’s hands and snatched the fabric. But he knew that he would kick himself later if he didn’t get it.

Months later and sure enough, he was so glad he had. He only needed to do a little bit of simple stitching for what he had in mind, nothing he hadn’t helped his mom with a million times. Now if he could just find that thread…

Suddenly, the front door slammed open. Jumping in surprise, Slash turned to see a frazzled looking Izzy. He barely had a chance to even process what was happening before the other man was stalking towards him, his teeth clenched as he practically collapsed onto his knees next to him.

“Slash,” he ground out, “I know Tommy traded you Duff’s name and I need you to give it to me so I can buy that giraffe bastard a fucking Christmas gift, okay?”

Oh boy. “Um…” Slash would love to tease his bandmate for his crush, but the situation felt a bit… volatile. Gulping nervously as he looked into Izzy’s hard eyes, he admitted, “I actually don’t have Duff’s name. I traded it for-”

“WhAT?!”

In the blink of an eye, Izzy was standing, hands fisted in the front of Slash’s shirt. Slash squeaked in surprise as he was dragged off the floor until their faces were inches apart. “What do you mean you traded it??” Izzy shouted.

“Holy shit, man,” Slash stared wide-eyed at his band mate, stumbling to steady himself and gripping Izzy’s wrists uselessly, “I-”

“Who the FUCK did you trade it to?” Izzy actually shook him, his eyes manic as he tried to shake the information out of the other man, “Who has Duff’s name now??”

“Steven! I traded with Steven! Fuck!”

“What’s going on? I heard my name?”

The drummer didn’t know what to expect, especially after walking in on what looked like Izzy threatening Slash. But before he could process what was happening, Izzy’s eyes snapped to look at him. Steven felt like a deer in the headlights, and in mere seconds Izzy had opened his hands, letting Slash drop unceremoniously to the ground with a ‘thud’ and an ‘oof!’, before full on sprinting and tackling Steven to the floor.

Shrieking, the two musicians tumbled to the ground, Izzy grabbing Steven’s shirt as he pinned him down, “Steven I swear to fuck if you tell me you traded Duff’s name-”

“No, no, I have it! I have it!” Steven blurted out in a panic, scrambling to pull the paper from his pocket.

Snatching the name from his hand, Izzy released him, standing shakily as he looked down at paper, “Fucking finally,” he muttered to himself. He reached into his own pocket and carelessly let it drift down onto Steven’s chest before walking away, slamming the door to his bedroom behind him.

Steven and Slash stood shakily, eyeing the closed door warily.

“What… the fuck?” Steven breathed, turning wide eyes to Slash, who only threw his hands up defensively.

“Fuck dude, I have no fucking clue. This Secret Santa thing is driving everyone crazy.”

“Ah man, am I gonna be the only one with no one to make out with after this thing?” the drummer pouted, leaning down to pick up his new name assignment from where it had fallen onto the floor, “I mean, I guess I wouldn’t mind kissing Mick.”

Slash snorted, shaking his head in amusement. He froze when he noticed Steven seriously considering the paper in his hand, “Stevie, no. Do NOT kiss Mick. We all love the dude, but we wouldn’t find your body after.”

Rolling his eyes, Steven laughed, “Haha, Dude, I’m just kidding,” he glanced back down at the name, “…unless?”

“Steven NO!”

~~~~~~~

Opening the door quietly, Tommy glanced around the apartment. Seeing that the coast was clear, he quickly entered, cradling his gift carefully in his hand. The door to Nikki’s room was closed, music blasting from within, so Tommy was able to sneak past easily and slip into his own room.

He hoped that Nikki understood his gift. The bassist tried to shrug it off, scoffing whenever the subject came up, but Tommy could tell the holidays were hard for him. It hurt Tommy’s heart to see the other man struggle, and he wouldn’t even really talk about it. The most the drummer got was some drunken muttering on the nights Nikki got really fucked up, but never enough for him to really get it off his chest and feel better, so he always awoke the next morning just as melancholy and frustrated and distant.

Sighing, Tommy placed his gift gently on the table next to his bed. Maybe it was far fetched, but he loved Nikki. He just hoped his present would communicate that.

~~~~~~~

Izzy was collapsed face down on his mattress, the same spot he’d been in for the last hour. When this week had started, he had not anticipated having to go through so much trouble to get his crush’s name. But it would all be worth it when he gave him his gift and-

His eyes snapped open.

Oh fuck.

He hadn’t gotten Duff a fucking gift yet.

~~~~~~~~

Sighing in relief, Duff finally made it home after a hellish double-shift. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and pass out. He had finished his gift for Steven a few days after they all drew names, and he felt confident the drummer would like his gift when he got it the next night. When he walked into the living room, he waved tiredly at Steven, who was smoking lazily on the couch.

“Hey man,” the drummer nodded at him.

“Hey,” Duff sat next to him, leaning his head back, “Any crazy plans for tonight?”

Steven shrugged, “Nah, I need to figure out what to do for the Secret Santa thing.”

Duff snorted, “You’ve had a week and you’re doing this the night before?”

“It’s not my fault!” Steven whined, “I had to switch names last second.” He crossed his arms with a huff, and before Duff could question what he was talking about, the drummer muttered, “Izzy must’ve gotten you something really good, he wanted your name really bad.”

There was a long stretch of silence.

When Steven finally looked up, he immediately straightened in his seat, eyes widening at the sight of Duff’s pale face, “Dude? What’s wrong, are you ok-”

“Izzy got me for the exchange?” the bassist asked weakly.

“Well, I mean, he does now? He pretty much forced me to give it to him and-”

Duff stood abruptly, Steven following after him with his hands out because honestly Duff looked a little like he was going to pass out, “Oh my God. Oh my God, Izzy is going to give me something. I don’t have anything for him!”

“That’s okay, it’s okay!” Steven desperately tried to soothe him, “You’re only supposed to give a gift to your assigned person, so-”

“No!” Duff’s fingers curled into his own hair, eyes wide and panicky, “Izzy is getting me a gift! He- he deliberately got my name and I don’t have anything for him! That is not okay!”

“Fuck, okay, Duff, just breathe, okay? Oh God, please don’t cry! Duff if you start crying then I’m gonna start crying!”

Just then, the front door opened. Axl blinked in surprise, eyes darting between Steven and Duff and immediately rushing forward in concern, “What the Hell is going on? Why do you both look like you’re going to cry? Do I need to punch someone??”

Duff covered his face with his hands, “I fucked up and now Izzy is going to fucking hate me!”

“No, he’s not!” Steven insisted, rubbing Duff’s back as he turned to Axl, “Izzy has Duff’s name for the Secret Santa and now Duff is freaking out because he doesn’t have a gift for Izzy.”

Axl furrowed his brow in confusion, “But if you don’t have Izzy’s name then you weren’t supposed to get him a gift?”

“Fuck that!” Duff cried, “It- it’s Izzy! I can’t take something from him without giving him something back! He’ll think I don’t care!” His chest was heaving, “Oh my God, I can’t breathe, he’s going to think I don’t care, I can’t breathe, I’m dying-”

Scrambling, Steven and Axl gently pushed Duff back onto the couch, sitting on either side of him, “Duff, Duff, don’t think about that right now, just breathe okay? In and out, just copy us,” Axl’s deep voice was soft and comforting, Steven’s hand on his back grounding him as the two musicians beside him took exaggerated breaths.

As air finally started to reach his lungs, Duff wiped at his face roughly, “Fuck. Sorry.”

“Hey, you’re fine dude,” Steven insisted, Axl nodding in agreement. They were both a little shaken- they knew that Duff could get anxious, and he’d told them that he had had panic attacks before, but they’d never witnessed one before. Still, they managed to keep it together while Duff calmed down.

“Okay, so I still say you have nothing to worry about,” Axl began, “but if it will help, I know Nikki had Izzy’s name to start.”

“And I know no one in the house has his name,” Steven added, “So it’s definitely with someone in the Crue!”

Nodding, Duff took another deep breath, “Okay. Okay, so I’ll just go over, and switch, and… and figure out something to give him… tomorrow…” he ran a hand over his face, “Fuck.”

“It’ll be fine, you’ve totally got this!” Steven encouraged.

“Right. Fuck, I’m wasting time, I need to go,” Standing, Duff took a few steps towards the front door before stopping, turning on his heel and rushing into the room he shared with Steven. He emerged moments later with a paper bag clutched in his hand.

“What’s that?” Steven asked.

“Nothing. See ya,” And with that, Duff was running out the door.

Turning slowly towards Axl, Steven bit his lip nervously, “Should we…?”

Sighing, the red-head stood, “Yeah, probably.” The two men quickly ran out the door after the bassist, following after him down the street. Because they were good fucking friends.

~~~~~~~~~

Slash returned home after making a run to the liquor store and found the house dark, empty, and quiet. He glanced around in confusion, raising his hands in dismay.

“Where the fuck is everybody?”

~~~~~~~~~

“Maybe speed it up just a little?”

“I think the issue is more with the key than the speed,” Mick argued. Tommy hummed in consideration while Nikki made a few notes in his notebook. Motley Crue was crammed in their usual corner of the apartment dedicated to their band practice.

“Well, let’s start with a key change and then see how we feel,” Nikki decided. The others nodded in agreement, but before they could start playing, they all jumped as someone started pounding on their door.

“NIKKI!” A voice yelled, “Nikki, let me in!!”

All eyes snapped to the bassist, “What the fuck did you do, Sixx?” Vince questioned accusingly.

“I didn’t do anything!” Nikki replied, huffing defensively.

The pounding at the door suddenly stopped, and the four rockers heard more voices from outside, “Jesus fuck, Duff, will you please calm down?”

“Should we do another breathing exercise?”

“I’m fucking FINE, I just-”

Finally, Nikki hesitantly opened the door, revealing three fifths of Guns N Roses standing on his doorstep. “Uuuuuh… hi?”

“Nikki!” Duff exclaimed with relief, “Do you know who has Izzy’s name for the Secret Santa?”

“Mother fucker.”

Mick’s voice was more resigned than annoyed, and Duff immediately gave him his attention, “Mick do you have it? Can you-”

“Yes, fuck, whatever, I don’t care!” the guitarist threw his arms in the air in exasperation.

Beaming, Duff quickly jogged over, swapping scraps of paper and also handing Mick the paper bag he had brought with him.

Raising an eyebrow, Mick looked at it suspiciously, “What’s this?”

“Oh, I already had a gift, so you can just give it to him instead.”

“Hell yeah, that makes my life easier.”

“It was the least I could do,” Duff shrugged.

“Great, this has been fun,” Vince rolled his eyes, “Now get out, we’re busy being a better band than you guys.”

“Excuse me?!” Axl stepped forward, fists clenched and ready to go, but Duff swiftly wrapped his arms around his waist and lifted him off the floor. “Hey!!” the singer struggled, arms still reaching out as if he could get a hit in from his current position.

Duff nodded at the four men, “Thanks again. See you guys tomorrow!”

Calling out their farewells, Vince snickered as Axl cried out “This isn’t over, asshole!” just as the door closed behind them.

Nikki shook his head, “I get the feeling that tomorrow is going to be interesting.”

~~~~~~~~~~

By the time the two bands piled into the living room of the Hell House, every single one of them was some level of buzzed. Slash and Steven had smoked a bit earlier in the evening, Nikki, Tommy, and Vince had done a few lines, and the drinks were flowing early. Duff didn’t even bother with pretense this time, a bottle of Vodka held loosely in his hand.

“Man, we should have decorated the apartment!” Tommy pouted as he admired the Christmas lights that had been tossed around and hung haphazardly in the living room, Duff smiling proudly from his seat. Axl, Izzy, Vince, and Steven were pressed close together on the couch, Mick taking the only chair, while the rest of the group sat on the floor. The coffee table was piled up with their shoddily wrapped gifts in the middle of their circle.

“Alright, who’s starting this thing?” Nikki questioned.

For a moment, everyone was silent, each person looking around and waiting for someone else to volunteer. “Oh for fucks sake,” Axl rolled his eyes, “Steven, this whole thing was your idea, so you get to start.”

“Sure!” Steven grinned widely, reaching into the pile to grab a paper bag with a very familiar shape, “Merry Christmas, Mick!”

“Hey, wait a sec-” Axl protested.

Opening the bag, no one was surprised to see the bottle of vodka inside. There was a chorus of complaints, Nikki slamming his hands on the coffee table, “Dude, we said no alcohol!”

But the drummer only smirked mischievously, “That’s the real gift,” he explained, “My present to Mick is saying ‘fuck it’ to the rules.”

The group went silent, all of them considering his words. “Damn,” Slash muttered, “That’s actually pretty good.”

Even Mick couldn’t hold back a small smirk, nodding in appreciation, “I dig it. Thanks, drummer,” he raised the bottle with a nod of thanks, and Steven pumped his fist in victory. Slash mentally sighed in relief that at least the drummer hadn’t tried to kiss the man.

“Let’s just go clockwise, now,” Tommy suggested, “So Mick, you’re up next!”

“Well, surprise, surprise,” the older man rolled his eyes, “I got Steven. So here,” he grabbed the bag Duff had given him the day before, pushing it into the blonde’s arms.

Opening the bad excitedly, Steven gasped in excitement. He pulled out a pair of drumsticks, the handles covered in dark swirls and designs which, upon closer observation, looked like they had been practically carved on with ballpoint pen. “These are awesome! Thanks, ‘Mick’,” he looked at the guitarist first, before smiling at Duff. Slash and Izzy exchanged silent glances. Neither understood the exchange, shrugging nonchalantly and ultimately deciding not to worry about it.

Slash was next, and he shyly tossed a light package wrapped in tissue paper into Axl lap, “I got Axl. Merry Christmas, dude.”

A subtle pink spread across Axl’s cheeks before he even opened the package, but it got even worse once he did. Folded inside was a bandana. Everyone knew it was one of Axl’s favorite accessories to wear, so it made sense as a gift, but what really made him pause was the pattern on it. The black fabric was covered with designs of golden snakes wrapped around dark red roses.

Swallowing thickly, Axl cleared his throat, doing his best to smile casually, “This is awesome, man,” he looked up to meet Slash’s eyes, “Thank you.”

Mick took a long drink from his vodka.

“Okay! Tommy, you’re next!” Slash slapped at the drummer’s arm, desperate to get the attention away from himself and the singer.

“Oh, yeah, right!” Tommy nervously lunged forward, to grab his gift. His present was in a paper grocery bag, which he held carefully by the handles as he placed it in Nikki’s lap next to him, “Here you go, buddy!”

Nikki blinked in surprise, his heart skipping a few beats as he looked down at the bag. Opening it up, his eyes widened as he saw what it was. Moving carefully to keep it upright, Nikki pulled out a small potted succulent. The bassist couldn’t help but let out a small, breathy laugh.

Tommy gave him roots. The fucking, sappy bastard.

“Thanks, man!” He slung an arm around the drummer’s shoulders, pulling him close to his side, “I fucking love it!” He shook his head a little, letting his bangs cover his eyes that he knew were getting glassy. “And hey, what are the odds, I got your name,” the entire room rolled their eyes, a few of them chuckling at the reality of what they’d all gotten themselves into. Meanwhile, Nikki grabbed a foil wrapped bundle and handed it to Tommy.

Peeling back the foil eagerly, Tommy gasped, “Cookies!!”

While they weren’t exactly prize-winning, with Izzy’s help Nikki managed to make the pastries both edible and at least somewhat visually appealing. As he happily shoved a cookie into his mouth, Tommy almost choked when he saw, near the bottom of the pile where no one else could see, one large cookie shaped like a heart.

“Thnn yu nnk! Ahveum!” Tommy’s words were practically unintelligible as he tried to speak with his mouth full, but Nikki understood, especially when the taller boy pulled him into a tight hug.

“Anytime, dude,” both of them were beaming, and even as Nikki called for Duff to take his turn, the terror twins kept their arms around each other.

Duff took a large gulp of his vodka before shakily reaching for his gift. It was small and flat, wrapped in magazine pages, and he couldn’t quite meet Izzy’s eyes as he held it out to him, “Here you go, Izzy. Um, merry Christmas.”

Taking the gift, Izzy could feel himself gaping. He hadn’t expected Duff to get him for the game. Tearing the paper, he found himself pulling out a loop of bass strings. As he looked at it though, he realized that the four strings had been carefully braided together. The braid was then carefully twisted around before being wrapped tightly with a thin metal wire to hold it together as an intricate bracelet.

Izzy couldn’t stop staring at it, “Dude,” he breathed out, “this is amazing. Did you make this?”

Duff was twisting his fingers together so hard it had to be painful, “Uh, yeah, I…”

Smiling, Izzy slipped the bracelet on, only taking his eyes off it for a moment to look at the bassist, “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

Returning the smile, Duff allowed himself to relax, if only a little, “Anytime. Uh, Axl, you’re up.”

Steeling himself, the singer kept his face neutral as he tossed a small plastic bag across the coffee table, “Merry Christmas, Slasher,” he smirked, putting all his effort into not showing his nervousness.

Slash didn’t know what to expect, but when he opened the bag and saw what was inside, he immediately burst into a grin and started laughing. Axl smiled in relief, while the rest of the group looked on in confusion. Finally, Slash pulled out a pair of heart shaped sunglasses with soft red lenses.

The group laughed along with him, “Oh my gosh, you got him rose-colored glasses? That’s amazing,” Izzy chuckled, bumping his shoulder against Axl’s.

“Heart eyes, motherfucker!” Tommy laughed.

As his laughter trailed off, Slash looked up at Axl, his smile soft and sincere, “Thank you, Axl. They’re perfect.”

Ducking his head, Axl smiled back shyly before clearing his throat and turning to Izzy, “Alright Stradlin, your turn.”

The smile dropped off of Izzy’s face, replaced by anxiety and uncertainty. But there was no going back now. He had to fucking commit to the plan. He picked up a small box and handed it over to the tall blonde bassist, “Right. Merry Christmas, Duff.”

Duff looked almost as nervous as Izzy did (Axl didn’t know whether he wanted to smack them or hug them). Opening the box, he blinked in surprise. Tilting his head curiously, he pulled out one of Izzy’s wristwatches. “Oh, cool. Thank you!” Across from him, Izzy took a deep breath and finally managed to force out what he’d been practicing in his head all day.

“If there’s no time like the present, then there’s no present like the time.”

Everyone’s eyes snapped to the guitarist, and he felt his face grow warm with the attention. Then, Duff snorted, slapping a hand over his mouth at the sound. But it was no use- within seconds he had dissolved into giggles. The rest of the room soon followed.

“Oh my God. Oh my GOD,” Axl laughed loudly, “You got him a fucking dad joke for Christmas!”

Even Mick was chuckling, and Tommy grinned at Steven, “I think Izzy beat you as far as metaphorical gifts go, dude.”

“I’m okay with that,” Steven giggled.

By the time they all calmed down, Duff had fallen back to lay on the floor, clutching the watch to his chest as his laughter finally tapered off, “Oh, Izzy, I love- I love it. Thank you,” he was smiling so wide his face hurt, and Izzy’s cheeks were still bright red, but he didn’t care. It was worth it.

“Wait…” Slash suddenly narrowed his eyes, “Hold on a sec…” Scanning the room, his jaw dropped, “Who the fuck got Vince??”

“I DID, BITCHES!” the Motley Crue font man stood dramatically, flipping his hair as he made his revelation.

“What the fuck?” Steven gaped, “Did you draw your own name?”

“You bet your ass I did.”

“Why didn’t you say anything??”

“Because I deserve nice things and who better to treat me to them than me?” he grinned pretentiously, “For this exchange I got myself an entirely new makeup kit and a new scarf, which is way better than-” suddenly, Vince pouted, “Hey!” he cried, clearly offended, “At least go into another room!”

The rest of the boys followed his gaze, quickly groaning when they found Nikki practically in Tommy’s lap as the two kissed passionately. Axl made fake gagging noises, while Mick just took a long, long drink from his Christmas Vodka.

“Alright, I think we all need some drinks,” Axl rolled his eyes as he stood, “You two better cool it before I get back or I'm pouring ice water over your heads.” Nikki flipped him off without even breaking away from the drummer.

As the red-head rushed out of the room, Slash stood abruptly, “I’ll go help!” He quickly hurried into the kitchen behind him.

“I’m definitely down to get fucked up, but I need a smoke first,” Izzy sighed. Hesitating, he offered almost shyly, “You want one, Duff?” He held his box of cigarettes out in offering.

With a small smile, Duff stood to follow him outside, “Yeah, sure.”

As they left, Steven looked between the door that closed behind them, the entryway to the kitchen, and the terror twins still making out on the floor in front of them. Quietly, he reached out to hold hands with both Mick and Vince.

The guitarist narrowed his eyes, and started to pull away, “Don’t-”

“Shhhhhh, Mick,” Vince grinned as he shushed him, sitting down directly on Steven’s lap, “It’s Christmas.”

“…Jesus Christ,” Mick let out a long sigh, glancing upwards for just a moment. But when Steven and Vince shifted over to make room for him, he moved to sit next to them on the couch, allowing Steven to continue holding his hand as they passed the bottle of vodka between them. And as much as Mick might try to deny it, none of them could keep a smile off their faces.

~~~~~~~~~

“So, there’s a second part to my gift.”

Axl jumped slightly when Slash’s spoke behind him. Turning to face him, he felt his cheeks burning again just thinking about the gifts they had given each other, “Oh?”

Slash nodded, tugging on a strand of hair shyly.

After a long pause, Axl tilted his head questioningly, “…So-” But right as he tried to speak, Slash finally gathered his courage and surged forward, wrapping his arms around Axl’s waist and kissing him deeply.

For a moment, the singer felt frozen in shock, but once his brain catches up and he convinces himself that this isn’t some hyperrealistic fever dream, he can’t help but melt into Slash’s arms, kissing back passionately. They’ve both waited so long for this moment that they can’t help but stay pressed together until they’re forced to break for air, both gasping deeply into each other’s mouths.

“…That was actually Steven’s Christmas gift to you.”

“WhAT??”

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

The night air outside was brisk, but for two men who were raised outside of California it was pleasant. Duff and Izzy smoked quietly next to each other, standing in the dim glow of the only working light outside of the Hell House. With each drag of his cigarette, Izzy mentally worked himself up to just say something to Duff. Something, anything to even remotely explain his feelings.

But before he got a chance, Duff started rambling.

“Thank you again. For the gift, I mean. I mean the- not that the watch isn’t nice! I love it, honestly, but that joke man, I definitely didn’t see that coming. And I know sometimes my jokes are dumb, so I appreciate you… indulging me, or whatever,” he waved his hand vaguely, ducking his face in embarrassment, “It just, meant a lot to me. Which might seem weird, or dumb, but-”

Izzy interrupted him with a soft, gentle kiss that still managed to steal the breath from his lungs.

Pulling back, Izzy weaved a hand through Duff’s hair, cupping the back of his head lightly, “I love your jokes. And I love your smile, and your laugh, and your bass playing, and your singing, and… I fucking love you.”

“Oh,” Duff breathed quietly, his eyes wide with awe, “Thank God. Cause… I love you too.”

Laughing, Izzy didn’t have any more words to say. He simply pulled Duff down to kiss him softly again and again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Both bands got spectacularly wasted that night. They pooled their money and ordered five pizzas, and passed around bottles of nightrain and whiskey and vodka, and played music as loud as their speakers could go. Axl and Nikki started writing song lyrics on the walls, and Tommy and Steven drummed on every surface available including their bandmates. At first every kiss was met with groaning and gagging, but by the end of the night every kiss got a round of applause and drunken cheers. Steven even managed to steal a kiss from Mick without being punched in the face. Motley Crue ended up spending the night, half the group stumbling towards whatever mattresses were open, while the other half passed out on the floor of the living room.

Looking around at the group of rockers, Steven beamed happily.

“God bless us, every-”

Vince shoved a pillow into his face.

#my writing #Motley Crue #Guns n Roses #gnr #christmas fic #slaxl #terrorcest #duzzy

134 notes · View notes

eightlittletalons · 4 years

Text

Playing with Fire

Also known as Dorian and Lavellan playing chicken until they just make out in the middle of the tavern.

Revas and Sera were on their way to the Herald’s Rest when Cole materialized seemingly out of thin air. Sera’s chatter came to an abrupt squeak of a halt as both jumped in surprise. Cole shot her a wary look as she huffed and glared down at her boots to avoid looking at the spirit. “I brought the book you asked for,” he mumbled, pushing a bundle into the Inquisitor’s hands.

“Wonderful!” the Dalish mage exclaimed, smiling brightly. He tucked the bundled sack under his arm and clasped his free hand onto the young man’s shoulder. “Thank you, Cole. You’ve been a great help.”

“Really?” Cole asked with a soft smile, fidgeting under the praise. “But won’t Dorian be worried if he finds out?”

Revas patted his shoulder comfortingly. “He might, but this is for a surprise, Cole. I’m sure Dorian will be delighted. But remember, this is a secret,” he said, drawing Cole in closer with a reassuring smile. “I’ll let you know when I need you to return it to Dorian’s room, alright?”

“Of course,” Cole replied, looking relieved and tentatively returning the elf’s smile with one of his own. He vanished just as quickly and quietly as he had appeared, leaving the elves alone once again.

“So,” Sera drawled after a moment of silence. “What’s all that ‘bout a surprise? What’d you get it to nick from Lord Fancypants?”

Revas glanced furtively around the grounds, making sure the coast was clear before he pulled out the book from the sack. “It’s Dorian’s grimoire,” he said, grinning roguishly. His smile faltered at Sera’s blank look.

“His whatsit?” she asked, nose scrunching up in confusion. She took the book from him to examine it closer, flipping through the pages.

“His grimoire. It’s like...a journal, but for magic. It holds spells, research, that kind of thing,” Revas explained impatiently. He crowded close to her, turning the pages until he found a good one and gestured to the spell that was outlined there.

“Oh,” Sera responded, a note of disgust in her voice. She passed the book back to him and shoved him out of her space. “Why’d it give it to you?”

Revas heaved a heavy sigh. “Cole is not an it, Sera,” he chided. The mage paused then, shooting her a speculative look. Was telling her a mistake? She was always game for a good bit of mischief, but to say that she didn’t trust magic was an understatement. Time would tell, he supposed. “I don’t want Dorian to know I have it. That shem would become even more insufferable if he knew I wanted to know more about him-his magic, I mean.”

Sera’s eyes widened in delight. “You stole it!” she shouted, laughing wildly. “What are you gonna-” She was cut off by Revas throwing his hand over her mouth.

“Shhhhhh! No. No, no, I didn’t steal it! Borrowed. I’m borrowing it!” he stressed. Sera rolled her eyes and licked his hand, causing him to release her in disgust. “Sera, promise me you won’t say anything. I’ll have Cole return it before Dorian even knows it’s missing.”

She pretended to think about the demand, watching Revas wipe his hand on his pant leg in amusement. “Let me draw a picture in it, and I’ll promise,” she finally declared.

“What? No! Then he’ll know someone took it!”

“Then no promises, oh mighty Inquisitor.”

“This shouldn’t even be up for debate,” Revas grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face as he scowled at her.

“Where do ya think Dorian is right now? He’d sure be grateful if someone tipped him off ‘bout a theft.”

“Alright, fine,” Revas relented with a groan. “If you promise, I’ll consider possibly allowing you to draw in it. Deal?” He stuck out his hand for her to shake. Her palm met his in a resounding smack.

“Deal.”

A short while later, Dorian swept into the tavern looking distressed. “Has anyone seen a book lying about? I seem to have misplaced one, and it’s quite vital that it’s returned to my possession as quickly as possible,” he addressed the room. Sera caught his eye and subtly inclined her head in the direction of a corner booth where Revas was seated, his head bent over a familiar looking tome. Ah, of course. “Inquisitor!”

As Revas glanced up and locked eyes with him, a look of guilt flashed across the elf’s face as the tips of his ears turned a fetching shade of pink. He then had the gall to snap the grimoire shut and attempted to hide it under his arms. “Dorian,” Revas greeted, feigning nonchalance.

“Might I join you?” the Tevinter mage asked, approaching the table. The elf’s jaw set obstinately, but he gestured to the seat beside him. Dorian made a bit of a show of getting comfortable, letting Revas sweat it out a little longer before he pinned what he hoped was a stern expression on him. Truth be told, he wasn’t certain whether he was irritated at the elf’s brazen theft or amused at his reaction to having been caught.

The Dalish refused to meet his eye, and leaned ever so slightly away from Dorian as he waited to be reprimanded. Finally, he pushed the grimoire over towards him. “Is this the book you were looking for?” he asked innocently.

Dorian just managed to hide his laugh behind a cough. If Revas wanted to play that game, so be it. He picked up the grimoire, clasping it to his hip, then leaned in closer. Revas leaned even further away. “Indeed it is. Might I ask where you found it? I was quite sure I’d left it in my room.”

“Ah. It was...around. Somewhere,” the elf said vaguely, shrugging. He met Dorian’s eye with such a fake look of sincerity that the man felt his lips twitch upwards. Kaffas, he wouldn’t break that easily. “If I had known it was yours, I would have returned it straight away, of course.”

“Of course,” he repeated. “I’m sure I’m not the only one in Skyhold with a grimoire detailing theories of time magic.”

“Oh,” Revas winced, averting his eyes again. Good, Dorian wasn’t able to suppress his smile any longer.

“Oh, indeed. My Lord Inquisitor, I would never dream of accusing you of such a base crime as theft, but is there any possibility that the ‘somewhere’ you found my grimoire was on my bedside table?”

“He got Demon Boy to get it for him,” Sera called from across the room, where she was balancing on the hind legs of her chair. Revas made an obscene gesture towards her, and she huffed indignantly. “Pff, you wish. Ser Lordybloomers was gonna draw rude things in it.”

“Thank you, Sera,” Dorian replied. He failed to stop his grin when she returned the Inquisitor’s gesture with a smug look. Revas, on the other hand, looked positively stricken when Dorian returned his attention to the elven mage.

“Dorian, I swear on the Dales that isn’t true. I would never deface something so important to you. I only wanted to borrow it for a little while. We use similar magic, and I wanted to compare-”

Dorian raised his hand to cut off Revas’ babbling and managed to summon up a severe look. “Lavellan, I don’t know how the Dalish do things, but when a human borrows an item, it’s customary to ask for permission beforehand.”

“Ah. Then let’s chalk this up to a cultural misunderstanding, shall we?” the elf asked hopefully. He began to slowly get up out of his chair. “Now if that’s all, I really should be-”

“Not so fast, Inquisitor,” Dorian interrupted, reaching out to grab ahold of Revas’ coat to pull him back to his seat. Revas sat heavily with a sigh. “Whether or not you realized you were in the wrong, I do believe I should be offered recompense.”

“Recompense,” the elf repeated flatly, eyeing Dorian warily. “Uh...sure. What do you want?”

“You could kiss me.”

“What?”

Dorian leaned into Revas’ space and was mildly surprised that the elf allowed it. Though perhaps that was the shock. He’d like to think after all their flirting that this would be welcome. Taking a chance, he lifted a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind one of the Inquisitor’s tapered ears, brushing a finger seductively along the delicate tip. The elf swallowed heavily, and Dorian knew he had him.

“A kiss from the beautiful Inquisitor Lavellan should be enough to soothe my hurt feelings about this...incident,” Dorian murmured, glancing at Revas’ lips before dragging his gaze back up to his eyes. If he’d had trouble getting the Dalish to look at him earlier, he now had the smaller mage’s undivided attention.

“Is that all?” Revas asked hoarsely. His eyes were dark with interest.

“It does have to be on the lips, of course,” Dorian clarified. He watched in satisfaction as Revas’ eyes dropped to his mouth. He leaned in closer.

“I can do that,” the Inquisitor breathed. He slid his hands slowly up Dorian’s chest, reaching up to cup the human’s jaw and angled his face down as he brushed their lips together. It was light as a feather, but Dorian felt as though he’d just been ignited.

Dorian’s arms wrapped around the elf unbidden, one hand tangling in Revas’ hair and the other curling around his waist, tugging the elf against his chest. “One more,” he begged roughly. He felt Revas smile against his lips before he was pulled into a deeper kiss.

Dorian closed his eyes, his breath catching in his throat as Revas caught his lower lip between his teeth. He couldn’t hold back a moan as the elf bit down lightly. And then Revas was untangling himself and stepping up and away from the table. He looked deliciously rumpled and out of breath, his ears blazing a bright red. “How was that for recompense?” he asked, grinning smugly at Dorian’s dazed expression.

“It was satisfactory, I suppose,” Dorian replied as he straightened his own robes and willed his heart rate to slow. He aimed for a casual tone, though by Revas’ smirk and cocked brow, he fell miserably short.

“Mhm. Well your moustache tickles, but it wasn’t terrible for a shemlen. In fact, I believe that was the most pleasant punishment I’ve ever been dealt,” Revas said, laughing as he smoothed his hand through his hair.

“Was it, now? I take it you’ve received many punishments for this kind of behavior?”

Revas laughed again, more rueful this time. “You could say that. My Keeper often lamented the fact that I was going to be the one that the clan eventually looked to for guidance. And now the entire Inquisition looks to me for the same. Funny how these sort of things happen.��

Hoping to rekindle the moment before the elf retreated too far into his dark thoughts, Dorian took a deep breath and dove straight in before he could think better of it. “Revas, if you’re still interested in comparing spells...I would like to invite you to my room for a discussion. Perhaps a...demonstration could even be arranged,” he suggested, feeling his bravado leave him as the elf pinned him with a predatory gleam in his silver gaze.

“It would be my pleasure, Dorian.”

#dragon age #dorian pavus #dragon age inquisition #pavellan #lavellan #revas lavellan #liv writes

7 notes · View notes

moonlit-imagines · 5 years

Text

Chicago (Part 2)

Steve Harrington x Wheeler!reader

warnings:

a/n: im an awful writer n i dont think ill be writing another chapter

prompt: yeehaw

part 1

“You didn’t tell me he was your ex-boyfriend.” You said as you rolled your eyes at Nancy.

“That’s because it doesn’t matter, we’re both past our relationship and you guys would be a perfect pair.” Nancy explained.

“It would’ve been some nice information to share, that’s all I’m saying.” You lifted your hands.

“Well, now you’re too deep in to hesitate. If you knew before, you would be having second thoughts.” She shrugged. You shook your head with a smirk and grabbed your bag. “Going to see him?”

“Maybe...” You avoided her eye contact with a slight laugh. “I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

—————

“Ahoy, mate!” Steve shouted at the counter.

“Ahoy, dork!” You retorted. Steve laughed at your comeback and kissed you from over the counter.

“My shift ends in twenty, want some ice cream?” Steve grabbed a waffle cone. “USS Butterscotch?” You nodded, then heard yelling in the breakroom.

“What’s going on?” You asked Steve. He packed your cone and handed it to you.

“They found some secret Russian code and traced it back here. They’re having some secret mission tonight, wanna come?” Steve explained. You took a bite of your ice cream and contemplated the idea.

“Hell yes.” You replied. You headed to the back to listen to the mission debriefing.

—————

How did you end up in an secret Russian elevator? Bad choices. That’s how. You were pacing around this elevator while the other four where screaming at each other.

“Shut up!” You shouted and everyone turned to your direction. You took a deep breath and they did the same before going back to screaming. You spent eight hours in there before having to crawl out the top and hide from the Big Bad Russians. Fortunately, you didn’t get caught and you roamed their base freely. Even got to see Steve fight a Russian soldier. But eventually you all got caught, it was only a matter of time. The kids got away, luckily. But you were interrogated. You put up a good fight, though.

Steve, Robin, and you were strapped together and freaking out. Soon enough, you were injected with something and began to feel it a bit later. It was all shits and giggles for a while, then the children came to save the day. You thought you were hallucinating. Back to the surface you went, you even got to see a movie.

“Hey, Steve, hey, hey, guess what?” You tapped his shoulder repeatedly.

“What?” He asked with a smile.

“Chicken butt!” You and him both died laughing.

“Shh!” The lady behind you stuck a finger to her mouth.

“Shhhhhh!” You replied.

“Guess what?” Steve whispered.

“What?” You answered.

“You’re adorable!” He and you broke into laughter again, and were shushed.

“Come here, lovebirds.” Robin dragged you out of the theater. “Water fountain!” She pointed. All three of you took turns drinking. Then you got dizzy and hauled ass the the bathrooms, where you puked up your insides.

“Think we got it out of our systems?” You asked as you backed your head against the wall and reached under the stall to grab Steve’s hand.

“Ceiling stopped spinning.” Steve muttered.

“Ask me something.” Robin instructed.

“When’s the last time you peed your pants?” Steve asked.

“Today.” She replied and you all started laughing. “When they pulled out the bone saw!” Your giggles filled the bathroom and Dustin kicked the door open.

“Come on!” He shouted. There were Russians guarding the exits, so you made a run for it. Then you heard a crash and looked up from behind the counter you were hiding at. You were completely lost on how the car from the food court had been thrown across the mall. You looked up to see El and the group of kids you met a week ago, along with a newer face. And your cousins.

“Nancy? Mike? What the hell?!” You started freaking out with Robin, but Steve grabbed you.

“Hey, slow down. We’ll catch you up.” Steve pulled you into a hug. You listened to Nancy’s story about the monster attacking Hawkins and how it was coming and the gate was under the mall.

“Wait, that’s what we saw down there? That was a portal to another dimension?!” You started freaking out again. Steve took your arm and wrapped his arm around the front of you, kissing the top of your head. Nancy smiled at that, and Mike eyed Steve. Then El collapsed on the floor. You all rushed to her side and watched Nancy’s boyfriend cut her leg open. You couldn’t bare to watch and hear her screams.

“I don’t understand what all of this is.” You told Steve. “She has powers? There’s an inter-dimensional demon in Hawkins? A bunch of kids are the ones who always fight it? You’re all messing with me, aren’t you?” You started laughing anxiously.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, grabbing your hand.

“Sorry, yeah, when I start freaking out I laugh hysterically.” You laughed harder. Steve pulled you into another hug, which calmed your fit of laughter after a moment. You were breathing a bit hard and shook your head. “One week in Hawkins and this is what it has to offer.”

“Hey, everything’ll be fine. It always is.” Steve assured.

“Y/N?” Nancy called to you. “Can you use one of these.” She handed you a revolver.

“I was raised by Todd Wheeler in Chicago, of course I can use one of these.” You checked how many bullets were left inside. Fully loaded, six bullets ready to go.

—————

You were not expecting anything that night had to offer. When Nancy brought you and Mike home, you all washed up and went to bed. She came to see how you were doing, and the answer was “not good.” Your cousin sat at the edge of your bed and talked to you about anything to get it off your mind.

“How are you doing with Steve?” She asked you. You sat up straight against your headboard and smiled.

“Good, good. We’re not official yet, but he’s been treating me well so far. I hope it goes somewhere. Do you think it’s weird? Like, since we’re cousins?” You brought your knees up to your chest and hugged them.

“No! No, it’s not weird, don’t worry. I really think you and Steve are gonna be a good couple, and you know everything about the Upside Down situation, which is a bonus. It’s hard when you can’t talk to the other person about that.” She explained. “You should go see him tomorrow.” The two of you talked until you passed out on your bed. Karen caught sight of that in the morning and smiled to herself. She looked forward to you being apart of her family.

Morning came and you were woken up by Steve.

“Sorry, your aunt let me inside and told me I should wake you.” He whispered, not wanting to wake Nancy. “Do you want to go somewhere with me? I don’t care where, just...somewhere.”

“Yeah, let me get dressed.” You grabbed some clothes from your closet and got ready im the bathroom. You stared at yourself in the mirror. You had bruises around your torso and marks on your face that you tried your best to cover. You took a deep breath and emerged from the bathroom.

“Ready?” Steve asked as her grabbed your hand. You nodded and he led you out of the house. You stepped into his car and he hesitated to start it. “Are you okay after last night?”

“I’m okay, Steve. Don’t worry.” You grabbed his hand. “Let’s just go somewhere peaceful where we don’t need to think about the supernatural.”

“Say no more,” Steve started the car and drove down Maple Street, “I know the perfect place.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things 3 x reader #stranger things 3 imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #wheeler!reader #nancy wheeler imagine #nancy wheeler x reader #mike wheeler x reader #mike wheeler imagine #nancy wheeler #mike wheeler

202 notes · View notes

philmunsey · 4 years

Text

Our Sanctuary of Secrets

Shhhhhh. We all have secrets. For some of us, our secrets have us. Secrets are not just private tales we tell. Secrets have consequences, for good or the not so good. Listen to what Christ said about secrets in LUKE 12:2 “Nothing is covered up that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known. Therefore whatever you have said in the dark shall be heard in the light, and what you have whispered in private rooms shall be proclaimed on the housetops!”

You might be thinking, I don’t want anyone to hear my secrets. And when we read that verse you might be under the impression that God is a tattletale. You would be mistaken. That’s not the point. What IS the point - is that secrets whispered in our SANCTUARY are not compartmentalized in a separate isolated place. There isn’t a wall between our private secrets and what gets publicly shouted on the rooftop! The connection is real. The secret to our success IS our secrets! Let’s not be intimidated, but rather inspired that the pure and positive thoughts we meditate and give attention to will indeed manifest. So what is a secret? When we say, Our “Sanctuary of Secrets,”what do we mean? Well, a secret is our premeditated thoughts and images, it’s our inner dialogue that we record and listen to over and over again. Secrets are like seeds. Every thought and image is a seed that grows when nurtured and nourished. Like a seed that remains private underground - as the roots go down, the fruit comes up - be it good or bad! Secrets have consequences. This is why I try to pause before I THINK. You read right. By the time I speak - my secrets have already taken root. I must pay attention to my innermost thoughts. To think about what I’m thinking about. These are my secrets! Nothing done in secret remains secret, but will be revealed.

Years ago my wife Jeannie and I were on a diet. Each day we would account to one another what we had eaten. Both of us were losing a little weight everyday. But I was preaching a three night series of services in Los Angeles. As I would drive home each night I had to pass an “In and Out burger” restaurant. The first night I passed with but a pause. A selah moment. The second night I slowed down just enough to perhaps but smell the fresh double-patty, double-cheese,”secret-sauce” cheeseburger from the famous number #1 combo, which includes fresh cut fries from a whole potato straight into the fryer...Hmmmm. I knew if I stopped and gave in to the temptation I would have to be accountable and pay the consequences. It was weighty decision. The third night I decided it wouldn’t hurt to get off the exit and watch others enjoy what I knew I shouldn’t. I would just ease on down the road observing. Well, as I slowly drove by, I must have blacked out! The next thing I knew I was in line and being asked, “how can I help you?” “Uh!” I changed my voice and responded, “I’ll take a number one combo with a Diet Coke” I so enjoyed it! Guilt could not spoil my delight. Or at least until I finished! Then it hit me. How would I account for this secret-sin? Could I hide the evidence and pretend it never happened? As I pulled into the garage late that night, I decided to hide my sin. I took the evidence and not only did I throw it away, I stuffed the evidence deep into the garbage container. I brushed my teeth and crawled into bed. If Jeannie did not see me eat that cheeseburger did it mean it didn’t happen? If it’s a secret it’s not real right? What was I thinking? I wasn’t! The next morning when my wife and I got on the scale, of course, she was down in her weight, and me, well, I was up! I mumbled something and rationalLIED my way through that awkward moment. Later that day Jeannie was paying the bills when she discovered she had inadvertently threw away the wrong portion of the bill. She proceeded to go into the garage and dig through the garbage container to find it. Not only did she find the bill, she found my “In and Out” bag of evidence! Busted! Here’s my point. Just because what we think upon is in SECRET does not mean it has no consequences. Remember what Christ said, Our private secrets ultimately get shouted publicly.

But there’s yet another reason to soul-search our secrets. Secrets are not just our thoughts. The word SECRET in Hebrew, Greek and Latin can mean; “a place; “a dwelling,” “closet,” a “chamber” or “sanctuary.” Or that which is “set apart.” Listen to how Christ describes it in Matthew 6:6 “...But when you pray, go into your ROOM and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in SECRET. And your Father who sees in SECRET will reward you..”

Secrets are not just WHAT we think and meditate upon, but our secrets are also WHERE we think and meditate. Secrets reside and abide in our inner-chamber. Our Sanctuary of Secrets is a place. Not only do I want to keep my secrets pure and positive, but I also want to keep my sanctuary pure and positive. My inner sanctuary not only is a host to my secrets, but it is where I host the presence of God. A profound yet confounding scripture is found in the continuation of Christ’s words in Matthew 6: 22,23. It states, “The lamp of the body is the eye. If therefore your eye is GOOD, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eye is BAD, your whole body will be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in you is darkness, how great is that darkness!” This is speaking of our inner-eye. The eye of our heart, the conscience. If the light of our conscience is darkened then everything is darkened. Our inner eye determines how we receive and perceive everything and everybody. I love the story of the wise old man who was a gatekeeper of the city. Often he would be asked by visitors, “What kind of people live in this city?” He would answer with a question, “What kind of people are the people in the city you came from?” Some would say, “the people we’ve left behind are not good people. We are looking for better people to do life with.” “Oh” the wise man would answer, “Don’t come here. the people are the same!” Others would answer differently, “The people we left are wonderful! We hated to go, but we’re seeking better opportunities for our family” “Oh then,” he’d answer, “Come here, the people are the same!” You see, We don’t see people and circumstances the way they are, but the way we are. We don’t attract in life what we want, but we attract who we are! We are our secrets. This is why guarding our secrets is vital. I would dare say, managing Our Sanctuary of Secrets is the most important task we have in life. Especially our dark secrets. Just as we have our secret place where we have access to the Father, we can also unknowingly make a “secret place” for the enemy in our sanctuary. The scriptures teach that Satan has been “cast into utter darkness...” That means what is in darkness is within Satan’s territory of influence. Let’s Imagine a mean junkyard dog bound to a twenty foot chain. Though bound by that chain, if someone gets within twenty feet or even closer to that mean dog the dog will be able to attack. So it is with the devil. Though bound, and we know Christ has bound the devil, if by design or default we drift into darkness the enemy will be attracted and attack those areas we let abide in the dark.

My prayer is, Oh God, help me control my secrets. And especially help me not be trolled by dark secrets. From time to time it does me good to examine my sanctuary of secrets. Ezekiel warned in chapter 8, verse 12; Then he said to me, “Son of man, have you seen what the elders of the house of Israel are doing in the dark, each in his room of pictures - [chamber; shrine] of his own idol [carved image]? They say, ‘The Lord doesn’t see us. The Lord has left [abandoned; forsaken] the land.”

What was happening to these elders?They were outwardly carrying out their religious duties, but inwardly, in their sanctuary of secrets, in darkness they worshipped idols. That sounds strange and pagan like. So what is an idol? An idol is something or someone that we allow to have power over our lives. Anything or anyone that rules over our thoughts, will, or emotion can become an idol. We can make “carved images” out of our past hurts and memories. Places of pain, angst and anger, judgement, prejudice and other dark images that we hide, and in doing so we set them apart for sacred secret worship! Do I have idols hidden in my sanctuary? The only way to erase the dark secrets is to face them. When we confront our dark secrets we shed light. Light then eradicates the darkness. Don’t be afraid to face your darkness. You might be pleasantly surprised that God does not condemn you, He wants to bring light and love to your darkness. King David wrote. “If I descend to HELL, God YOU are there!”

Don’t be intimated by dark shadows. You can’t go so low that God is not there to help you. Your darkest secret seeds and deeds cannot eclipse God’s mercy and Grace! Even your doubts cannot intimidate God! When we doubt God. When in those dark moments we secretly deny our beliefs or second guess our experiences. When we fear God is not real. Don’t be afraid to go there. There, God is near. The scriptures teach, “...if we confess our sins...if we walk in the light, as He is the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin.” (1 John 1;6,7)

As we confess our sins, and here’s what I believe it means; If I agree, if I say the same thing Christ says about my sins, specifically that I AM FORGIVEN, I AM THE RIGHTEOUSNESS of Christ, and that all my sins are forgiven; past, present and future, THEN in the light of that revelation I remain cleansed and in fellowship! God calls us to live in the light, and fellowship in His love. When God sees you, he sees everything good and wonderful about you. You can say confidently these words, “Jesus KNOWS me, this I LOVE.” The one who knows me best, loves me most!

I want to share something personal. It’s about a transformation that happened in my life with my wife. We are in our 42nd year of marriage. Someone once asked what’s it like being married to the same woman for 42 years? I responded, “I don’t know. I’ve been married to at least 7-8 different women. They all have the same name, Jeannie Munsey, and right now she’s the best version of herself! Our journey hasn’t always been easy. For instance, for years I harbored a self righteous anger in my sanctuary of secrets against her. Often Jeannie would talk to me about things I would say or do that bothered her. Usually a conversation would start like this, “Phil we need to talk!” “Oh boy, here we go!” I’d secretly mumble. Then she would proceed to share her heart and hurt. I would typically act like I was paying attention. Note; Silent and listen have the same exact letters, but mean something entirely different. Being silent means I shut my mouth and my heart. To listen means I open my heart before opening my mouth. I would often carry on an inner dialogue with myself in my sanctuary of secrets that would go something like this; “I NEVER confront you about what bothers me! You seem to always have a word or two about what I need to correct, but me, I never speak a word of complaint to you...” It was like I was writing these self-righteous checks of being the good guy and depositing them into our relationship account. I felt I was saving up equity to leverage against her at the opportune time. Then the day came when my secret got shouted out. Just as she was about to talk to me about something that needed to be addressed, I no longer was able to contain myself, I bursted out, “Have you ever paid attention to the fact that it’s always YOU commenting on your concerns about what I’m doing wrong? I rarely if EVER bring up my concerns and complaints!” (There. I told her!) But my check deposits were about to bounce big time! “Oh!” she said, “You don’t have to say anything, your actions and attitude speaks louder than your words!” Busted, again. Please know, your spouse will never deliberately say or do anything to hurt you. If you can’t believe that, their greatest gift to you is negated. Trust and respond truthfully.

“A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.” (Luke 6:45)

This scripture challenges me to examine my heart and what I’ve been storing up in my Sanctuary of Secrets!

One last illustration. Years ago, Joel Osteen was invited to be on a very popular prime time television talk show. Joel has always seen himself as a guest when he’s on “secular” television. He carries himself just like he’s an invited guest at someone’s home, even if it in millions of homes. His response to the questions are always humble and kind. But his kindness has not always been taken kindly. Some in the Christian community felt that on this particular night his answers were evasive. The attacks on him were unmerited and unmerciful. A month or so later he was asked to return. This time he took a little more time to articulate his response to a tough theological issue. He nailed it! Afterwards as we got in the car, he looked at me and said, “I think I did pretty good!” I said, “You most certainly did, it was powerful and anointed!” Later that night as I laid in bed, in my sanctuary of secrets, I began to reflect on Joel’s comment. I had never heard someone say something so positive and pure about themselves. Oh! In my 47 years of being in the ministry I had certainly heard bragging and arrogance, but what Joel said to me that night was neither. It came from a pure sincere place from his heart. It moved me and caused me to search my heart. I’ve always tried to be an encourager. It has come easy to give positive comments to others. But I would not, I could not compliment myself. To the contrary. I would cut myself down. I’d be so critical and demeaning to myself in my sanctuary of secrets. That night the Lord revealed to me that I was allowing the dark side, the light of my heart’s eye, to go dark. My sanctuary of secrets had formed a tainted and tilted skewed view of myself. I could not continue to attempt to have negative views about myself and yet still claim to have positive views about others. It was a lie. I was lying either to myself or to others. I thought I could use one set of lenses to view myself and another set of lenses to view others. James declares otherwise. “You can’t draw bitter and sweet water from the same well.” It was time to reconcile my secrets. To put light in my dark places and make peace with my secrets. I wanted to start believing the best in everything and in everyone - starting with me!

Today, let’s examine our secrets. I’ve taken the liberty to slightly adapt Philippians 4:8, “Finally, whatever SECRETS is true, whatever secrets is honorable, whatever secrets is just, whatever secrets is pure, whatever secrets is lovely, whatever secrets is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these SECRETS!”

I want to be pure in my heart. I want my sanctuary of secrets to be whole and holy. God, give me a pure and positive heart! May this be your prayer too!

Phil Munsey

1 note · View note

thiswasinevitableid · 5 years

Text

Panic Attack in Aisle Five

Prompt for the 14th: Panic

Note: This is set in the OT4 verse (everyone is boyfriends, except for Duck and Barclay, who are metamours). For some context, in “Have you found what you’re looking for” it’s implied that Stern hasn’t had many close connections with people for years, in part due to his work. That means he sometimes struggles believing he’s worthy of care.

Damn that Halloween decoration.

Stern sits in the diner booth, absentmindedly sipping his water as his heart rate climbs like he’s running a marathon rather than out to lunch with his boyfriends.

It had all been going so well, too.

----------------------

It had been Barclays idea for them all to go into the nearest city to hunt down a Halloween superstore. He needed decorations for the lodge, and Duck wanted to get some new lights for the apartment (“rats ate the ones I had before”).

And so they decided to make a day of it. It had been awhile since he’d been in one place long enough to decorate for a holiday, and Stern is truly excited.

He and Barclay start out in the lights section, trying to figure out what won’t overload the lodges circuits or get tangled around Jake when he inevitably tries to stunt. Behind him, he hears Duck repeatedly trying to jumpscare Indrid, with limited success (“ah!” “‘Drid, you if you scream before I jump out it ain’t the same”).

“Hey look, Indrid, it’s you” Barclay holds up a strand of black-winged figures with red eyes.

“I think those are meant to be bats.” Stern peers at the lights.

“Really?” Barclay looks at them again.

“Either way, they’re comin with me.” Duck grabs a box.

“We are not putting those up.” Indrid says from his spot examining glow-in-the-dark cobwebs

“Not outside we ain’t. Goin in the bedroom because it’s your lair” Duck bounces his eyebrows and the others laugh (Indrid rolling his eyes as he does).

It’s when he’s off by himself, looking for pumpkin carving kits so Barclays kitchen knives don’t get trashed, that it happens. He rounds a corner in the animatronics section and stops in his tracks.

Someone has recreated a scene from “An American Werewolf in London” with an unfortunate victims guts strewn across the floor. On one level, he’s impressed with the effects.

On another level, he feels like his guts will shortly be joining them on the ground.

A forest, his third mission, blood on pine needles.

It’s like the world gets harder to focus on.

Another agent, viscera, grizzly bear.

He forces himself to move through the aisles, to gather up the carving kits and bring them back.

A fluke, a rare animal attack, unlucky, could have been him, so much red

Duck is doubled over laughing at the “sexy bigfoot” costume they’ve discovered, Indrid cackling along with him and Barclay looking affronted.

Sounds stay hollow as they pay, and he’s wishing more and more that he could go home and hide, even though he’s not really sure where home is.

“Got you a present” Barclay murmurs as he loops an arm around his shoulders. Stern just manages not to jump at the contact, offers a tight smile and a nod. Barclay gives him that gentle, worried frown of his.

He keeps giving him that look every now and then as they wander through the downtown and find a place to eat. Stern is ready to snap, to say that he’s fine, that he’ll be fine, he’s been fine every time this has happened before.

“Babe?” Barclay rests a hand on his knee carefully, “what’s wrong, you seem upset.”

The words won’t come, and that makes the feeling worse, because surely they’ll get annoyed with him for being uncommunicative-

“Joseph” Indrid says quietly, “am I correct that you’re close to a panic attack?”

Stern nods.

“Love, please order for me. Barclay, I believe you can order for Joseph this time around.” Indrid taps Duck so that the ranger stands up, allowing the seer to slide from the opposite booth. Wordlessly, Stern follows him outside, Indrid somehow managing to find a secluded spot near a fountain.

“There, no prying eyes.” He removes his glasses.

“What are you doing?” Stern hisses. This is, so far, the opposite of helpful.

“I promise there are no futures where I’m seen.” He opens his arms, cocks his head. “Yes?”

Stern steps into his embrace immediately. Indrids wings enfold him, blocking out much of the autumn light.

“I can’t, I didn’t, I’m sorry-”

“Shhhhhh” Indrid strokes his hair, “do not focus on trying to make me understand. All that matters right now is helping you weather this. Can you indicate what you need?”

“Something to ground me, something to remind me I’m here and not there.”

A slow, even purr vibrates through the dark feathers, Indrid managing to (somewhat awkwardly) speak at the same time, “Focus on the sound, my pet.”

It’s the first time Indrid’s used that word outside of the bedroom. It sounds completely different, all trace of possessiveness gone.

Stern tries, he truly does, to focus only on the purring, but still he feels like he’s floating away from himself.

“In this moment, here, what do you see?” Indrid asks softly.

“Feathers, mostly. I can see the cement too.”

“What do you hear?”

“You, purring. And,” he breathes in, then out, concentrating, “some birds. The fountain.”

“Smell?”

Another deep breath, the world is becoming clearer “That sterile watery smell, something fruity-”

“-We’re near a Jamba Juice, a fine establishment”

“And soap, Ducks soap. Wait, this is his shirt isn’t it?”

“Technically, yes. You’re doing very well, Joseph. Two more to go. What do you feel?”

“Your feathers, how the ones around your neck” he glides a hand over them “are fluffier while the ones on your wings are smooth.”

“Lastly, oh, ah, one moment.” He puts his glasses back on quickly, right before footsteps pass by them, “what do you taste?”

Stern leans in, kisses him, “you.”

Indrid cups his chin, long fingers stroking his cheek, “Did that help?”

“Immensely. Thank you, Indrid.”

The Sylph simply smiles.

Their food arrives right after they get back to the restaurant. Stern braces himself to be fussed at, but just Duck grins, relieved, at both of them and Barclay takes Sterns hand as he continues telling a story about a souffle incident at work.

Carefully, Stern rests his head on Barclays shoulder, his boyfriend pausing his tale of kitchen chaos to kiss him on the temple

It’s not until they’re back in the car, Duck driving with Indrid in the passenger seat while Stern and Barclay cuddle in the back, that Barclay grabs one of the bags and hands it to him.

“Saw these and, uh, know they’re supposed to be a novelty thing but I knew I had to get ‘em for you.”

“Are these...UFO bedsheets?”

“Yep. They even glow in the dark.”

“Somehow I doubt these are standard Amnesty Lodge bedding” he teases.

“You got me there, agent. But you aren’t a standard guest anymore either. Far as I, or honestly anyone else is concerned, lodge is your home. You get to do that room up however you want.”

“They’re wonderful, Barclay. Thank you.” He nestles against the larger man.

“How you doing?” Barclay asks gently.

“Much better. I’m sorry for worrying you. There are things from my past that don’t always stay there. I, I don’t think I’m ready to say more than that.”

“Say as much or as little as you need to, babe. I love you. So do those two weirdos. And I’m here for you no matter what.”

Stern nods, kisses Barclay once and shuts his eyes. Reminds himself that things will come out okay in the end. In the driver seat, Duck flicks on the blinker and turns them in the direction of home.

#promptober #panic #panic attack #sternclay #indrid cold/ duck newton #agent stern/barclay #agent stern/barclay/indrid cold/Duck newton #OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid Boyfriends

41 notes · View notes

bluerosewrites · 5 years

Text

You Will Be Found

Wrote a thing. Just the first chapter, though there will be more, I promise. It’s full of ansgt, but I plan to have a happy(ish) ending.

TW: Suicide, Anxiety, Self-Harm. Read at your own risk.

Summary:

Have you ever felt like nobody was there? Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere? Have you ever felt like you could disappear? Like you could fall, and no one would hear?

It’s all too much and Peter can’t keep himself from the edge tonight. He’s tried SO hard to keep it together. For May. For Tony. For MJ. For Ned. But tonight? He can’t convince himself that they wouldn’t all be better off. That he could fall, and disappear, and no one would hear, or care. But is he right?

Read here or on AO3.

Peter doesn’t remember when he started feeling this way. All he knows is it keeps getting worse.

His state of mind after surviving Toomes burying him under a building wasn’t great. That was when the nightmares started. The panic attacks. The erratic sleeping patterns. Peter doesn’t remember if he bit his nails or left red crescents on the palms of his hands before Toomes or just after.

The Blip doesn’t help. He’s so disoriented and trying to get used to how life on Earth apparently kept going while he and half of the world’s population was trapped in the soul stone.

Not to mention this summer’s adventures with Mysterio. Peter just couldn’t catch a break. He was literally hit by a frickin’ TRAIN. If Peter hadn’t already struggled with feelings of worthlessness and dissociative episodes, he sure as hell did now.

Which brings us to tonight. And the rooftop where Peter has sat, for an unknowable amount of hours. He’s just stuck. Not able to convince himself to take the next step, but also not able to go home.

He’d been out on patrol, doing his best to Do Good and Be Normal. He’d foiled some muggings, avoided getting stabbed by one of the attackers. You know, the usual. But his heart wasn’t in it. He couldn’t come up with his usual snarky trashtalk, and was only putting half of his energy into the fights. One of the would-be muggers had almost gotten away, and Peter had almost not followed after him to track him down. Why was he trying so hard? Nothing really mattered. At least it felt like nothing did. He could spend 24/7/365 chasing after guys like this and the next day there would always be more. Or an alien race invading earth hell-bent on destruction and hostile takeovers. Or someone who was determined to seek revenge, not caring who they hurt or what they damaged in the process.

What’s the point of anything?

Finally Peter just sat on one of the highest rooftops on his route and watched the world go by. The sky dimmed, giving way to night. But the city never slept. If anything, it got busier after dark. Peter let himself zone out while watching the traffic go by. Watched the streetlights come on and heard the hum as the city’s nightlife got into full swing. After a while the noises of the night started to get to Peter and he realized he was still in the suit. Suddenly he couldn’t stand to be anymore, and to hell with the consequences. He ripped off his mask, ignoring Karen’s entreaties into his well-being. He’d stopped listening to her hours ago.

Peter took deep, gulping breaths of the cold air, but it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t get enough air. The suit clung to his skin, and he felt itchy all over. As quickly as humanly possible, Peter ripped the suit from his body, being forced to stand up as he did so to free himself from the constricting tech. He felt the icy wind bite into his exposed skin as he stood on the rooftop, shivering in his boxers.

He made his way to the edge of the building, still taking care that he wouldn’t be drawing anyone’s attention. Not yet, he told himself. And he knew the thought should scare him. Peter was never one to give up, he always tried his best to find the silver lining. But right now he just couldn’t. He was teetering on the edge of numbness in his soul. He was tired to his very soul, deeper than bone-tired. Exhausted, really. And he didn’t know how much longer he could fight the shadows in his mind. The whispers in the dark.

You’re not good enough.

Why try? You’re a burden.

No one loves you. They’re all just putting up with you.

You’re an imposter. If they knew you who really are….they’d RUN.

They’d be better off without you.

Peter took his arms from where they were coiled tightly against his abdomen to make two fists and rub them against his eye sockets. Hard. His body gave another violent shudder, but Peter didn’t even feel the cold anymore. Didn’t feel much of anything, really.

Is this how it ends? Peter thought to himself, Not with a bang, but a whimper. Huh. Maybe that’s what that writer was talking about. Interesting. Peter knew that if he disappeared he would be missed. He didn’t want to hurt May. Or Ned. Oh, God, or Tony. Peter closed his eyes and sat on the roof. He brought his knees to his chest and rested his forehead on his knees, bringing his arms around his shins. There were so many people counting on him, and he’d be letting them all down if he–Peter couldn’t bring himself to think the words, but the idea was there. He squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut and willed the tears behind his lids not to fall. He bit down on his bottom lip and tried to ignore the shudders racking his body. He knew not all of them were from the cold, but enough of them were. He didn’t thermoregulate well after the Bite, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to care. You don’t deserve to be warm. That’s a comfort, and failures don’t deserve comfort. Honestly–

“Shut UP,” Peter ground out between gritted teeth. Great, now I’m talking to myself. He let out a humorless chuckle. Just one more symptom to add to the rest of the crazy I’ve already got going on. Peter could feel the harsh grit of the pitch on the roof through the thin cotton of his briefs. There was gravel stuck to the soles of his feet. God, I’m a mess. Can’t even do this properly.

Peter willed himself to stand. But his limbs were no longer listening to him. “Come on, Parker, get the fuck up. Surely you can manage that,” the teen rasped out, but it was to no avail. He managed to stretch out his limbs, but remained in a seated position. Every joint from his shoulders through to his fingertips ached from being held in one place for so long, and the pressure exerted to be wrapped around his legs. Eventually Peter was in a starfish position, as if he was going to make a snow angel there on the roof. He dragged his heels across the harsh surface and grabbed at whatever he could with his hands. It was painful, scraping his skin against such a jagged and cold exterior of the building. But the pain meant he was feeling something, which both helped to ground him a bit as well as serve as enough of a punishment to shut the dark whispers up for a time.

Peter stared into the sky as he continued to move his hands and feet, further chafing the skin there. He wished he could see the stars, but he was too far into the city to see any major constellations. It would be nice, to see them one more time before I–go. Peter closed his eyes and tried to remember what the night sky looked like out at Tony and Pepper’s cabin. Oh, God. Pepper. Morgan. At the thought of Tony’s real family, Peter couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. As he began to sob, he brought his grit-covered, bloody hands to his eyes and covered them. Salty blood mixed with the salt of his tears, and he didn’t know which he could taste more.

They say that when you’re close to the end, your life flashes before your eyes. Peter just saw all of the people he’d lost. His mom. His dad. Ben. And all of the people he’d failed. May. Ned. MJ. Nick Fury. The Avengers–Cap and Bucky and Nat and Sam and Rhodey and Clint–and so many more. Pepper and Morgan. Tony. TONY. At the thought of his mentor, Peter broke down even further. He’d failed Tony on so many levels. As a mentee, intern, and a son.

He was still thinking of Tony when Peter thought he heard the familiar sound of thrusters. Wait. It can’t be. Even if he knew where I was, Tony has been benched since the Snap. Recovering and such. Peter couldn’t bring himself to remove his hands from over his eyes and check to see if the mechanic was indeed with him on the roof. Because if he was, Peter was still a bloody, nearly naked MESS on the roof of a building at God-knows what hour of the night. Might even be early morning at this point.

Sure enough, Peter soon heard heavy, booted footsteps approach. Then the sound of the Iron Man nanotech disappearing back into the Arc Reactor and Tony hitting his knees beside the distraught teen. Peter hears a soft, “Oh, kid,” and his hands are gently pulled away from his eyes. Which are still scrunched shut. Peter still isn’t sure he believes Tony is here, with him, on the roof. And if he is, Peter isn’t sure he wants to face him. So instead he sets his jaw stubbornly and keeps his eyes shut, ignoring the tears continuing to stream down his cheeks and the shudders still racking his body. He feels Tony’s hand on his shoulder, and his eyes fly open, despite his best attempts to keep them closed. Peter bites his lip at the concern he sees in the billionaire’s eyes.

“Hey, now, shhhhhh,” Tony mutters soothingly. But the warmth and the kindness in his voice undoes Peter completely. He’s openly sobbing now, and too weak to resist as Tony scoops him up into his arms. They rock back and forth, Peter contained within the strong arms of the mechanic, the latter whispering comforting words to the former until the kid’s shudders subside a bit and his breathing slows.

Finally the boy turns his tear-stained face toward the former playboy, roughly swiping gritty, bloody hands across swollen eyes. He lets out a long sniffle and then his lips part to emit a phrase at a volume Tony struggles to hear. “What is it, SpiderBaby?”

Peter tries again, “I said, are you real?” At Tony’s answering sigh, Peter begins to draw back into himself.

“Fucking Beck,” Tony grounds out, Peter flinching at the anger in his voice, “Hits my kid with a damn TRAIN, among other things, and now he can’t trust anything. FUCK.” Once Tony notices the kid shrinking against him, he does his best to calm down. In a more subdued tone, he continues, “Yes, kid, I’m real. God, how can I prove it to you? What’s something only I know? You think chocolate ice cream is the best way to counteract heartache, you’ve seen all of the Star Wars movies at least 200 times but you’re not sure how you feel about the reboots, particularly Solo, you wanted to kiss Michelle at the top of the Eiffel Tower but were foiled, and plan to take her back someday to–” he’s cut off by Peter’s arms circling him in a crushing hug. “Ok, good, good,” Tony murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into Peter’s back. “Now, wanna tell me why you’re in boxers on the roof of the tallest building in the city?”

Tony feels the teen stiffen beneath his ministrations. Peter draws back so he can see Tony’s face once again. The philanthropist can see more unshed tears threatening to spill over his kid’s cheeks. He sighs as the teen closes his eyes and takes one of the arms still flung around the mechanic to rub his eyes once more. Tony leans over and presses a soft kiss to the top of the kid’s unkempt curls. “We don’t have to get into it all now, but I definitely want to hear what’s going on with you. What do you say to going back to the Tower, getting cleaned up and warmed up, maybe some hot chocolate?”

Peter nods and lets out a big sigh. “Alright, Underoos, let’s get that suit and head home. Happy’s waiting for us down in front of the building. Neither of us should be flying right now.” Peter nods again and the mechanic scans the roof. “Did you bring a change of clothes with you? Your backpack? Otherwise this is gonna be real awkward.” The pair each let out a wry chuckle. Peter nods once more and points. “Alright, good, good. You get changed and we’ll head down.”

While Peter changes and grabs his suit, Tony goes to the door to the lower floors of the building. To the billionaire’s relief, the knob turned. He turns to find a gently swaying Peter behind him. Tony wraps an arm around the kid’s shoulders. “I’ve got you, bimbo,” Tony feels the boy sag in relief, and they make their way downstairs and into the waiting car.

Happy’s concerned eyes meet Tony’s in the rearview mirror. “Where to, boss? The Tower?” Tony nods in assent as Peter’s head falls onto his shoulder. He squeezes the shoulders of the wiry teen in comfort as Happy drives them. He presses a kiss to the crown of the boy’s head, amongst the curls.

Soon, but not as soon as either of the adults would have wished, they three arrive at the tower. Peter has fallen into a fitful sleep, so Tony scoops the boy into his arms bridal-style for the journey upstairs.

“Do you want me to call Cho?” Happy inquires softly as he holds open the elevator doors.

“No,” murmurs the mechanic. “I’ve got him for now. But I’ll let you know. Thank you.”

“You got it, boss,” Happy says as the doors close.

Tony looks down at the precious boy in his arms. In the harsh light in the elevator, taking in afresh the dirt and blood on the kid. “Oh, Peter,” he murmurs. The boy doesn’t stir as they reach their destination, and Tony is torn between letting him rest and getting him both cleaned and warmed up. Thankfully, the floor is empty at the moment, and Tony deposits his burden on the soft couch. He gently nudges Peter awake. “Hey, bimbo, what do you say we get you cleaned up and warmed with some food? Does that sound good?” Peter nods sleepily as he drags a hand across his swollen eyes. “Alright. I’ll get some food and hot chocolate ready while you get cleaned up and some fresh clothes, yeah?”

The boy gets up and makes his way to the bathroom and his room here at the Tower to do just that while Tony bustles in the kitchen. Tony knows the teen is far from okay, but hopefully some carbs will help.

#irondad #spiderson #tony stark #peter parker #iron man #spiderman #mine #blue rose writes #You Will Be Found #YWBF #tw suicidal #tw anxiety #tw self-harm #tw self-hatred #angst #Angst with a happy ending #suicidal Peter parker #peter parker needs a hug #tony stark has a heart

33 notes · View notes