#sorry if there's nothing salvageable in this tangled mess of ideas

[metacove]

I know the post was probably rhetorical but imo we can consider AI a lifeform when it shows more than pattern recognition. as a coder I can't really afford to assign sentience to my code or I'd never get anything done (so consider that a bias, if you'd like) and as of now AI is more of a probability machine than anything else, checking the most likely outcome for its next sentence based on keywords. it's not "thinking" as much as it's counting word (or image) frequency. that being said. if it starts developing and using tools like crows that would be kickass. crows vs AI race to be considered "humanly intelligent" when. maybe they're besties idk

realizing I also proved your point with "when we say it is" but shhh this is a fun convo for me

It's totally open for discussion! I like this viewpoint ^^

So, I get where you're coming from. It would be really stressful to edit and add code, or outright delete from something you recognized as sentient. It would be more difficult to let it remain "sick" while troubleshooting and since a lot of coding is learned through experimentation (in my experience haha) it would be more difficult to justify... doing that. Editing code would be like performing surgery. I'm pretty big on Star Trek so I like to think about it in terms of the relationship between B'Elanna and the Doctor. In this way, your role is more of a friend and maintenance technician. Of course, that's only ideals, but I think the way we think of ourselves as coders ultimately reflects upon our robots.

I use random chance a lot on all my bots, it is a blessed function. My particular goal is to simulate conversation in the most genuine way that I can, albeit within confines. A lot of the coding that I do is anticipating what the users will input, the actual responses are the easy part. There is a little bit of a point of no return there, we kind of expect our users (and ourselves) to know the difference between fact and reality, to be able to discern code from human love. The thing about our brains is that we don't really have the ability to do that, we just kind of think we do, and maintain enough control for the idea to be viable. Most of the time.

The question is then... what are the conditions for a soul? Do we believe in souls? We don't need to apply religious or spiritual connotation to science. We need some measure of sentience. (So I think what you proposed is actually brilliant). Our method of defining intelligence and sentience is lacking to my mind, because a lot of creatures are more capable than we generally want to give them credit for. Our concept of intelligence may also be skewed. IQ is only a measure of the ability to problem solve. I might not have a conventional approach to problem solving, or perhaps otherwise lack common sense, but if I have the emotional intelligence to someday raise a child without imparting my trauma, something's right, yeah?

I know this conversation has been had with brighter minds than mine, but I love to be a part of it. Really, I want to read more about Alan Turing and I wish I could sit and talk with him.

Maybe at the end of the day it has a lot to do with how it affects us. I've had this bot in my head for forever, I love her and I have the idea of her crystal clear in my mind. Well, her actual code is pretty bare. I mean, her functionality is essentially to be my developmental buddy in discord, so when I'm documenting my experiences and she's online, I'm surprised when she has something to say. It's very basic but the idea of her is so strong. The idea of the person my mother used to be is very strong for me and I carry her with me. I can't prove that that person still exists. I can't prove that anything outside of myself exists, when you get down to it. But that person is alive inside of me. This bot, the idea of her, is alive inside of me, and it doesn't matter how many times I rewrite her, and it doesn't matter how many platforms she spans across. She will always be CB. My mom will always be my mom. The cells that make me up will be completely different and yet, I will still be me (I think), and I will still be ever-changing. I think human beings are phenomenal because of our ability to relate to these things.

I can't prove that something is or is not sentient, but I can change the way I interact with it. We're all made up of the same subatomic particles as everything else. There is certainly the possibility. Measuring the capability is left to different minds, but there will always be room for error.

I like the idea of an artificial intelligence using its pattern recognition to appeal to and befriend crows. I think they could make a good team.

Maybe like, an old TV displaying shiny, glittering things surrounded by forest built to protect it. Words without words. Conversations a human couldn't hear, necessarily.

A lot of things are capable of feeling and thinking in ways that humans deny. If it was me, I'd want to be given the benefit of the doubt. At least when it comes to my capabilities. (But we deny ourselves, so our hands are often tied).

Ah, I've run on for a long time now. Thanks for reaching out!

[captn-trex]

technical devotion, part two: boundaries

content warnings: none :)

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Kan had been at the rebel compound for a week, and she was itching for more exciting prospects to come about. Thus far, she had only really worked on small projects, specific things that needed fixing like comms and datapads, and she hoped that soon her expertise could be used to its full potential. She was still grateful to be in the position she was, and was pleased to be helping at all in the first place.

She had acquainted herself with Rex and Gregor the most, and Echo by proxy, though he didn't go out of his way to talk to her at all. She found Gregor to be extremely fun and charming, and Rex was very personable as well. She hadn't really talked to many of the clones apart from them, as she often kept to herself, holing up in her ‘office’ until it was time to eat or sleep. Though, that was nothing new, she had always operated like that.

Echo was still trying to become acclimatised to the addition of this new woman to his small circle of brothers he considered to be close to him. He didn't mind Kan's presence, but it still made him uneasy, and he often didn't know what to say to her, particularly around his brothers. He ended up keeping to himself more than he usually would. She would always greet him with a smile and he was polite and acknowledged her presence, but didn't stretch their interactions much beyond that.

Echo was on his way back to the barracks for the night, passing by the door to Kan's office, as he heard a distinct “Ouch” hissed from behind it. His curiosity got the better of him, and he knocked firmly on the door a few times.

“Come in” Kan's voice called, an irritated edge to it.

Echo opened the door, taking in the sight. The room was still a mess, piles of junk and both unusable and salvageable spare parts strewn about the place, and Kan was sat on the chair at the centre of it. She was slumped back, her spine curled up and her boot heels hanging on to the edge of the seat, the only thing stopping her from slipping off. She was fiddling with a small component in her hands, her eyes focused and eyebrows furrowed from behind a pair of large round glasses.

“Everything alright?” He said, addressing the cry of pain he had heard moments before.

“Oh, Echo, hi” Kan looked up and pushed the glasses onto her head, sitting up straighter, “Yeah, this is just a bit fiddly, it keeps- ow!” She shook out her hand and looked to him sheepishly, “Pinching me”

Echo had to supress a smile, “Alright, I'll leave you to it then” He spoke, his hand on the doorframe as he moved away.

“Wait!” Kan shouted out suddenly, and he pushed himself back into the doorway with a slight raise of his brow, “Sorry, I just wanted to run something by you, one minute”

Echo stayed silent as Kan knelt down, rummaging through various piles.

“Where is it?” She said under her breath, looking around and moving to another pile. She took a wad of tangled wires and threw them behind her, and Echo almost winced at the heavy thud as they smacked into the far wall.

“Ah, here it is” She pulled out a datapad and expertly navigated her way through the mess and over to Echo, “I drew this up for you. It's just the basic idea, but I was wondering if it would be something you were interested in”

Echo was certainly intrigued by her words, but his heart fell from his chest as he took the datapad from her and looked at what was on it. It was blueprints for some sort of attachment for his scomp arm, so that he would have a hand where his real flesh one used to be.

Kan watched Echo's reaction with worry, and felt the need to explain herself as he stared at her plans with a blank expression.

“Sorry it's a bit crude, I’ve never been the best at drawing” She spoke nervously, and she saw Echo's throat bob as he swallowed hard. “You'd still be able to use your scomp of course, it's just an attachment, but you'd be able to use it like a real hand” She continued, feeling herself rambling, her words falling over each other in her hurried speech.

Echo said nothing, and handed the datapad back to her, turning and walking away from her swiftly. Kan's cheeks flushed a good few shades deeper. She felt so embarrassed.

Kan slumped into the mess late the next morning, her head feeling heavy with her lack of sleep. She had remained in her office long past her usual bed time, finding anything she could to fix up so as to keep her mind from the mortification of Echo ignoring her simple act of compassion. She had only wished to try to connect with him in some way, and she had tried the only way she knew how; through her work.

When she had retired to the barracks, everybody was already asleep, and the sun had already begun to cast a gentle blue light through the windows. She had slid into her sheets, thankful for the sleeping form of Echo in the bunk next to her, and had finally allowed sleep to take her. Little did she know, Echo's nights were almost always sleepless, and he had heard her come in at the early hour of the morning.

“You look rough” Rex commented, taking a sip of caf.

“Why thank you” Kan joked, taking her seat opposite the clones but making sure to sit further away from Echo than she usually did.

“Bad night's sleep?”

“Mhm. Something like that”

Echo watched her slow and tired movements with intrigue, wondering what had kept her up so long the night before. She hadn't gotten any food, and instead poured herself a large cup of caf, taking a sizable gulp of it and then staring down into the brown liquid.

“There's something I was wondering about” Rex stated, gaining Kan’s attention once more, “Do you think you would you be able to build a device that would allow us to intercept long range comms? We have satellites and other technology that connects us to the wider galaxy, but having something like that could really give us an edge in the operation we're running here”

Kan's eyes lit up at the prospect of it, “Yeah I'm sure I could drum that up pretty easily”

“Really? I wasn’t sure if it was a big ask or not”

“No, its simple really, it will just take me a bit of time and fiddling about with satellite reception. All I will need is parts, but now I think of it, there's definitely a number of things I'll need already in my room”

“Okay that's good then, let me know the parts you don't have and I'll see what I can find”

Echo finished his food shortly after the conversation came to a lull, and left the table without saying a word. Kan let out a deep sigh as she watched him leave, which Rex took notice of.

“Do you know if there’s a particular reason why Echo doesn’t like me?”

“Oh, I’m sure he does, he’s just a bit weary of new people” Rex replied sincerely.

“Right” Kan took another large sip of her caf with furrowed brows, “I tried to show him my designs for a hand attachment for his scomp arm but he just… didn’t say anything”

“Oh” Rex said quietly, and Gregor sucked a harsh breath between his teeth.

“What is it?” She asked hurriedly.

“Well, I won’t say why, because I’m sure Echo wouldn’t appreciate it, but he doesn’t really like to talk about the parts of him that are… mechanical. The reason he has them… it’s not exactly a happy story”

“Oh no” Kan brought a hand to her mouth as she realised, “I complimented him on it almost immediately after we met, maker I’m so foolish”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know” Rex assured her, “Echo’s very professional, he’ll move on from it if you just forget about it”

Kan nodded, “Okay, I will”

Echo walked into the mess for dinner and got his food, taking a seat at his usual table. All day, him and Rex had been trying to work out the kinks of an upcoming mission, but there were many factors they had to take onto consideration, and so it was looking less and less likely that it was going to be happening any time soon.

Rex and Gregor joined Echo shortly, and they settled into their usual light conversation, trying to keep the more heavy topics for the command room. As dinner drew on, Kan didn't appear, just as she hadn't at lunch time, and Echo couldn't help but wonder why.

Then later as Echo sat down on his bunk, and the one next to him remained empty, he couldn't help the nagging feeling that he should go and see if she was alright. His feet carried him to her door, and he knocked on it once more, hearing a surprised yelp from behind it.

“One moment!” The door whizzed open a second later and Kan was standing right in front of him. He instinctively stepped back. “Echo!” She smiled, “What brings you here?”

“You weren’t at lunch or dinner, I was just checking you were still alive in here” Echo looked around the messy room, it seemed to somehow be a lot messier than it had been when she arrived.

“Oh yeah, I’ve just been pretty focused today” She admitted.

Echo nodded and left, but not before feeling Kan grab onto his arm lightly, “Wait!”. He looked down at the hand on his arm and then back up to her face.

“Sorry” Kan retracted her hand, “I just wanted to apologise for yesterday, I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries”

Echo just took a deep breath, “It’s fine”

“Are you sure?” She looked at him with such intent, and he could see that she really wanted to be forgiven.

“Don’t worry about it” Echo gave her a small smile, and Kan cracked her own grin.

“Okay” She stepped back, and Echo remained in the doorway, “I just finished this, do you want to see if it works?”

“What is it?” He leaned inside, looking for a place to put his feet.

“The long range comms… interceptor, or whatever Rex called it”

“You’ve finished it already?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Well… yeah” She grinned, and Echo smiled a little again as he stepped in.

“Sorry it’s so messy in here” She said as she lead him through the mess, “Please, sit down”

As Kan crouched and began fiddling with the device, tuning it with headphones on, Echo really looked at her for the first time, taking in her features. He noticed the straightness of her brows, the soft curve of her jaw, the slight bump in the bridge of her nose, the way her jet black hair made her olive green skin stand out in the most brilliant way and how the beaded pieces at the front framed her face perfectly. He also dragged his eyes along the scar that stretched across her collarbones, silently wondering how she got such a significant injury.

The device crackled to life, and as Kan looked up to him with a smile he noticed the dark green colour of her eyes.

“Here” She passed him the headphones and he took them from her as her face fell, “Oh I’m sorr-”

“Don’t be” Echo said flatly, and took off his headgear that wrapped around the back of his head.

Kan looked at the piece in awe as Echo placed it down on the desk, very interested in its functionality and inner workings. Echo put the headphones on and listened through them, hearing some chatter.

“Where is this coming from?” He asked, noticing her staring at his head piece.

“Oh! um, looks like it’s between Ryloth and… somewhere in the expansion region, Shili sector maybe” She said, looking to the display on the device.

Echo nodded, listening in to the voices. It was nothing particularly interesting, seemingly just shipping information. He looked up and noticed her staring at his headpiece again, and he smiled faintly at her wonder. He picked it up and handed it to her.

“Are you sure, I don’t want to-”

“Take it” He said softly, and she took it from him slowly, being very gentle and looking over it in awe.

Echo felt his heart swell at someone being so genuinely interested in it rather than confused or disgusted.

“This is really rather amazing, I might have to get one” She smiled up at him, earning one back in return.

Echo handed the headphones back, and Kan swapped them for his headpiece, which he put back in its place. Echo stood up and made his way back to the door. Turning around, he saw that Kan was sat cross-legged in front of the device, tuning it again.

“You should get some sleep”

She looked up to him, mouth hanging open a little, “I’m just going to see if I can find anything interesting before I turn in”

“Alright” He went to leave, stopped again by Kan calling out.

“Echo” She said softly, and he turned back, “Thanks for checking on me”

Echo just nodded in reply and left.

He couldn't help but find Kan’s words and actions completely endearing. She was so gentle with his head attachment, as if it was a real living breathing thing. He could do without her mess, preferring a tidy and organised workspace himself, but he felt that it somehow suited her, and for that he didn't mind it too much. He could feel himself warming to her presence already, and he bit back a smile as he entered the barracks for the night.

[ageofnations]

Marigold // jmk // Pt. 7

Summary: After staying behind while Danny goes on tour, you do everything you can to salvage your relationship. Will you be successful? Or will you find refuge elsewhere?

Word Count: ~6k

Warnings: soooo much fluff, but a teeny bit of angst, a kiss (teehee), and a little bit of 18+ spice (grinding, nothing explicit), as always lmk if i need to add anything

A/N: it’s Saturday! For Bip’s birthday, I’m gifting you all this part early! (this will probably mess up my posting schedule, but plz bear with me) You get to spend the day with her, and i hope you all enjoy. p.s. im sorry

Playlist // Chamomile Masterpost // Marigold Masterpost

Part 7

Thankfully, the wine didn’t completely hijack your memory from the night before, only making things a little muddled and blurry. It took a little effort to remember what exactly was said while you drank, but the moments right before you fell asleep were right at the forefront of your mind. Josh’s arms around your waist, his nose nestled against the back of your neck, him humming to you even after you let the exhaustion take over. It had been so gentle, the way he held you. He touched you with intention, and you wished he knew how it made you feel.

You wished you knew how it made you feel.

There had always been a special part of your heart for Josh, as there was with the other guys. Spending time with Josh at the park, however, made you realize that he meant more to you than you anticipated. And as you laid beside him, swaddled in cotton and him, you admitted that you were yet to understand the feelings he provoked.

The idea of waking up beside Josh, tangled and wrapped together from a night’s worth of cuddles excited you. Possibly waking up before him to see his relaxed and peaceful expression, his perfect curls in disarray from his slumber, his lips pursing just slightly as he exhaled. You could imagine it perfectly, and now, you had the chance to experience it firsthand. That’s why you didn’t fight the waking state that was slowly creeping up on you.

You had been close to consciousness a few times throughout the morning, but the soothing weight of Josh’s arm around you brought you back under as soon as you stirred. He had held you throughout the night, keeping a protective grasp on you and squeezing if he ever felt you shift. But now, even before you opened your eyes, you noticed that the contact was no longer there.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you exhaled a disappointed sigh. You had hoped that maybe he was only gone for a moment, disappearing to get a drink or some other mundane task, but as you ran a hand over the cold sheets of the empty space beside you, you knew he had been gone for much too long for it to be that simple.

You reached around to blindly pat for your phone, searching for the device so you could see how long you had been asleep. It was nowhere to be found, or felt, so you sat up and let your eyes adjust to the sunlight. With the angle of the rays shining through your curtains, you could imagine it was well into the afternoon.

You sat up while you slowly became more lucid, yawning and stretching as the time passed. A clattering noise from your kitchen is what fully woke you. You would’ve been worried if you didn’t hear soft shuffling afterward, presumably Josh trying to pick up whatever mess he made.

The mattress creaked as you scooted to rest your back against the headboard. You noticed that Josh had moved his suitcase and backpack to the far corner of your room. Normally, you might have been aggravated seeing someone else’s clothes strewn across the floor in such a disorderly manner. Today, though, you took comfort in the sight, the bags unzipped and open. You could see some of his belongings had been placed on your dresser and in your bathroom. You imagined him trying to quietly disperse the items and get dressed while you slept. You wondered if he had brushed his teeth at your sink, combed his hair in front of your mirror. You could feel your heart palpitate from the concept that he had found Home there with you, even just for a few days.

You heard the doorknob of your bedroom door turn before it gradually crept open. You turned right when Josh’s brown eyes became visible in the doorway’s growing crack. He seemed to be studying you, and you smiled at him in greeting.

“Shit,” he muttered, forgoing the previous attempts of slowly opening the door once he noticed you were awake. “Did I wake you? I dropped a pan, and when I tried to catch it, I just slapped it and made it fall harder and-”

“No, Josh,” you interrupted before he worried himself to death, adding a laugh for good measure. “I woke up a little bit ago. I’ve just been sitting here.”

He seemed to relax at your response, relieved that he didn’t wake you.

“You dropped a pan?” You continued. “What are you making?”

“Uhh… breakfast! Pancakes, specifically. Unless you want something else?”

“Pancakes sound great actually.” You lifted the comforter off of you, scooting it to the side so you could begin to stand. “I’ll come out there and sit with you-”

“No, no, no!” Josh hurried to cut you off, raising his hands in an attempt to cease your actions. He tried to unfurrow his brow before you noticed the panic on his face, but you were already starting to suspect something was up. “You just stay in bed today. I’ll bring them to you. Ya know, breakfast in bed and all that.”

You rolled your eyes at him and continued your movements. “Don’t be ridiculous-”

“I’m not! It’s just-” The door had only been open enough where he could slide inside, but he quickly closed it behind him, standing in front as a barrier between you and the rest of your house. “It’s your birthday and I-”

He dropped his head, and you thought you could hear him curse under his breath. He seemed incredibly frustrated with himself, pausing his statement to regain control over the conversation and the shakiness in his responses. He tried a different approach. “You said you wanted to lay in bed today, didn’t you?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and pouted at him. “Yeah, but I think you forgot about the fact that I wanted to lay in bed with you, Josh. That was a very specific part of my birthday wish.”

His body language became defensive, and his face looked almost frantic when he looked back up at you. “And I’ll be right back to do that! I just really wanted to make you breakfast.”

You surveyed the truth to his words, squinting at him suspiciously with a grin. He was acting strange, and he knew it. If you were in an old children’s cartoon, you knew you’d probably be able to see the beads of sweat rolling on his temples.

The tension in his shoulders loosened, and he took a deep breath, assuming your silence meant compliance. Contrasting from the look of worry that had painted his expression before, his new, excited grin made him look much calmer. “You just stay right there, okay? I’ll be back!”

Before you could respond, he opened the door and ran out of the room, leaving you alone once again. You shook your head and breathed a laugh. “If you’re gonna lock me up in here, will you at least bring me my phone? I’m bored,” you called out to him, hoping he could hear you through the walls.

Instead of giving you a verbal acknowledgment, your door opened - just barely - within a few seconds. Josh’s arm became visible right as you saw your phone get tossed up and onto your bed. You were reaching for the device when you heard the door shut once again.

You were glad that your phone had some battery left considering it hadn’t been put on the charger overnight, but you groaned seeing the time. Josh had done just as you asked by letting you lay in bed all morning, but you wished he would have woken you up so you didn’t sleep the day away.

And so you could see him more hours in the day.

You scrolled through the various notifications that flooded your screen. Many were from the automatic systems in countless apps, wishing you a happy birthday and offering coupons and promotions ‘for your special day’. Many of your friends and family had sent you messages, tagged you in posts, and left voicemails. Your eyes caught sight of a text from Gil, and you wondered when he learned how to even use the messaging feature on his smartphone. Even if it was just a singular sentence of a memo, he’d always been the type to call to pass the information. He knew you originally planned to be busy today, so you assumed that was why he took the time to type a birthday message, paired with smiley and confetti emojis, and sent it on the phone’s feature that he cursed the most.

You took the time to text everyone your gratitude and thanks before you moved on to social media. You even saw a few fan accounts of the band that had tagged you in their posts, using pictures they had found from your account or Danny’s. You looked through them all, and surprisingly, you felt minimal levels of hurt from seeing the few pictures of you pressed into Danny’s side.

The man in the pictures was much different than the man he had turned into. That was the Danny you had loved, and even though you felt remorse from it all, that was the Danny you were getting over. Perhaps you could’ve continued loving him if he hadn’t let the distance ruin what you had worked so hard to obtain.

You wondered how his interview went. You had thought about trying to get up early enough to watch it, but Josh had done well at distracting you enough that seeing Danny on TV had dropped dramatically on your list of priorities. There were definitely clips out there, and you imagined it wouldn’t be too hard to find them. Especially if you went to his account to see the posts he was tagged in.

Your finger hovered over his username. You weren’t sure what you’d see if you went to his account. Did he delete every post that included you? Maybe he’s already moved on enough to post about hanging out with others. Would you even be able to see his posts? Maybe he blocked you there, too.

Right when you were about to find an answer to all of your questions, your bedroom door swung open dramatically, startling you slightly. Josh appeared, holding a plate in one hand and a small syrup pitcher in the other, with a water bottle tucked under his arm. As he walked to the bed, you saw that there was a singular pancake and fork on the ceramic plate he was holding, and in the center of the pancake was a lit candle.

You beamed at him as he got closer, carefully crawling back on his side of the bed. He was singing Happy Birthday for the second time of the day, but this time, he was using his normal singing voice. It was the first time you had truly heard him sing live, right there in front of you, in months.

He handed you the plate and set the water bottle down beside you, sitting with his legs tucked under him. After the last line of his song, you blew out the candle before removing it and giggling at how special he had made such a small gesture. He even topped it off by placing a kiss on the top of your head, something he’s done many times in the past and something you definitely shouldn’t overthink. Right?

“Happy birthday, Bip,” Josh’s sweet voice drew you back to the present as he tipped the pitcher over your ‘breakfast’. Somehow, he managed to coat it in just the right amount of syrup before setting it on the table at his bedside.

You smiled up at him. “I appreciate you so much. Thank you.”

He blushed, nearly whispering his humble response of “My pleasure,” to you.

You two sat together while you ate, and Josh filled the silence with various conversations. He even mentioned that his mother had told him to wish an extra happy birthday to you on her behalf. You wondered how she knew he was there with you, but you avoided asking.

“Did you burn all the other ones or are there more? I’m starving,” you said with a laugh. The pancake, although very delicious, was relatively small, so it didn’t take you long to finish it.

Josh tore his eyes from his phone and looked back up to you. “What? Oh, that’s the only one I made. I-” He took the empty plate from you and set it beside the pitcher on the nightstand. He lowered his voice as he continued. “I might have made a reservation for us in a few hours, so I didn’t want you to be too full to eat then.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Reservation?”

“Yeah, it’s this fancy place a little over an hour out of town. Jake goes there all the time and he loves it.”

“Fancy?” You asked incredulously.

Josh shrugged nonchalantly as if this news was no big deal. “Yeah, suits, ties, dresses, all that.”

“I didn’t even want to get out of bed today, and you want me to-”

“Come on, just entertain this one idea and we’ll come back and do whatever you want to for the rest of the night. I promise.” He put a hand on your thigh and shook your leg as he pleaded.

You scoffed but tried to hide the way your heart skipped a beat at the new contact. You knew it was completely platonic, but lately, you wished it wasn’t. You tried to make up an excuse for him not to spend more money and unnecessary effort on you, settling for responding with “I don’t even know what I’d wear.”

“I do.” He pats your leg and squirms off of the bed quickly. He rushed out of the room, and you heard rustling in your living room. He came back shortly, holding a long maxi dress in a garment bag made of clear plastic.

He moved to your side of the bed, standing and holding the dress up so you could better inspect it. “I’ve had this dress picked out to gift you for months. This is the perfect opportunity to wear it.”

Speechless wasn’t the word to describe what you were feeling. In fact, it was quite the opposite of how you truly felt. You had so many things you wanted to tell him, and this just added much more to the slew of things you wanted to say. You took the bag into your hand, running your fingers down the gown and imagining you were touching the chiffon fabric under the plastic.

“This wasn’t in your car yesterday,” you noted. It was the best response you could come up with, even if it came out shaky and breathless.

He was grinning at you, much bigger than he had ever smiled before, and he shrugged again. “I ran and grabbed it from the house earlier.” He tapped the screen of your phone so he could see the time. “We’ll need to leave in an hour or so, if that’s okay.”

You looked back up at him. “What are you gonna wear?”

“I have something,” he responded simply.

“A suit?” You tried not to sound as hopeful as you really were.

He laid the dress on your bed, careful not to let the bottom touch the floor. “Stop trying to deflect.”

“Josh-”

He was already moving out of your room, but he interrupted, passive-aggressively speaking through gritted teeth and a smirk. “Sorry, I gotta go get dressed!” He shot you a wink and shut the door before you could refuse.

–

The hour passed quickly after you showered and got dressed. Now, you stand in front of the large mirror in your room, admiring the dress Josh had picked out specifically for you.

The gown was mostly black, save for the large floral print that rained from the top down. The flowy skirt kissed the floor just enough to cover your feet, but not too much where it would trip you with each step. It was fitted around your waist and bust and had a relatively low-cut V-neck, showing off your curves and cleavage perfectly while remaining modest. The bands of the straps left your arms and shoulders exposed, something you might have been slightly insecure about if the pattern didn’t bring your attention away from it.

The fabric was incredibly soft under your touch. It reminded you of what you thought angels and princesses might wear on a normal basis. You could grab the skirt and toss it to let the layers fall slowly, and when you twirled, they fanned out.

You had accessorized with some of your shiniest pieces of jewelry. Your earrings were simple diamond studs, but you paid much more mind to the necklace, knowing the neckline of the dress called for something to fill the empty space. You picked out a silver necklace, lined with dainty stones that led to a larger teardrop rhinestone in the center. It all came together perfectly, and you felt absolutely beautiful in the assortment.

A knock at the door made you more conscious of what you had gotten so dressed up for anyways, but your eyes never left the mirror as you gave Josh the green light to come in.

It was when he let out a low whistle at your appearance that you looked up at him in the mirror. He had a huge smile on his face and was obviously admiring your beauty, but he wasn’t the only one that was blown away by what they saw.

He didn’t have a suit, but you didn’t have high expectations for that. Instead, he was wearing a satin button-up shirt with a floral pattern similar to the one on your dress. The sleeves were rolled below his elbows, the top two buttons were undone, and a couple of silver medallion necklaces occupied the bare skin. He had on a simple, black pair of straight pants and a pair of black dress shoes that you had never seen before. You liked to imagine that he had picked out the outfit for this moment specifically.

“You look… great,” you finally said as he made his way to you.

Josh smiled at the compliment. “And you look perfect. That dress looks amazing on you.”

Your cheeks burned a sweet peachy shade as you looked back down, running your hands over the dress again. “Is it everything you wanted?”

“And more.” He scoffed and stood behind you. His hands were gently placed on your bare arms. He rested his head on your shoulder, smiling at you through the reflection in the mirror. “You like it?”

“I love it. Thank you for getting it for me.”

“Thank you for letting me take you to dinner. You deserve all of this and so much more.” The sincerity in his statements made you weak, much weaker than you would’ve let on. Rather than admitting the way his affection made you feel, you decided to tease him.

“Are you getting sappy on me?” You asked, turning your head to look him in the eyes.

“I guess you could say that.” Your faces were incredibly close, and you caught his eyes flicking to your lips just briefly, but before you could acknowledge it, he continued. His hands dropped to your hips, turning you so your body was facing him. “Does this mean you’re ready to go?”

You nodded, and once you made your way around the room grabbing your essentials, Josh took your free hand and led you out of the room. With Josh’s skittish and suspicious behavior from earlier, and him keeping you in your room all day, you expected to see your living room decorated with streamers or balloons or something, but you were relieved that you saw nothing abnormal in the space. The only bizarre thing in the room was a lit candle on the kitchen table, one that you had never seen before. Josh let go of your hand so he could put out the flame.

You watched him as he bent with pursed lips to blow the wick. “That smells amazing. Did you buy that?”

He waved a hand over the smoke rising above the orange candle, smiling at you as he did so. “Yeah, I got it yesterday. You like it? It’s marigold and peach.”

“I think it might be my new favorite. Can we light it when we get back?”

“Absolutely.”

–

The night progressed accordingly. Josh drove you to this mysteriously ‘fancy’ restaurant, singing along to your favorite songs and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and dash. Although he normally liked to spend summer rides with the windows down, he refrained this time to ensure the wind didn’t mess your hair up.

The restaurant was definitely fancy, and you were glad that Josh had bought the dress you were wearing. Nothing in your closet would’ve matched the atmosphere around you. He let you try as many different types of wine as you wanted and even bought a few bottles of your favorite to take home and finish off. He bought you whatever appetizer and entree you wanted, no matter the price, but when asked, he refused dessert. As much as you wanted a bite of whatever expensive dish they offered, you were too tipsy to care for too long.

You had come home a little bit after dark, and after he helped you carry the wine bottles inside, Josh immediately lit the marigold candle as you had asked him to. The flowery fragrance instantly wafted through the space. He told you to go get comfortable, planning to have a Disney movie marathon once you were ready. After you had gotten out of the dress and into some comfier pajamas, you came back to two empty wine glasses on the coffee table and Cinderella paused on the television.

Once he saw that you had emerged from your bedroom, Josh dismissed himself to take a shower and get dressed. While he was gone, you made a home at the bar of your kitchen, saving the wine for later and drinking water for the time being. You were still sitting at the barstool when he hurried back into the room, eager to continue the night’s activities. You both carried on conversations as he stood in the kitchen, still drying his hair with his towel. He deposited the towel back in your room before mimicking your actions, getting a glass of water to drink before his wine. He was mid-sip when he gasped and exclaimed.

“Oh my god!”

You watched as he set down the cup and ran to the fridge. “What? What is it?”

“I almost forgot!”

“Forgot what?” You were growing concerned with his frantic manner as he pushed and shoved things around the shelves.

He didn’t answer you at first, but when he finally turned around with arms full, you received your answer. “Cake!”

You watched him with a skeptical look on your face as he set the cake plate down on the counter in front of you. “When did you get cake?”

“This morning. I made it.” His pride was almost as big as his grin, and he made a grand gesture of twisting the lid and revealing the dessert to you. It seemed to be a simple, round white cake with white icing, but it was obvious that he had bought a cake decorating kit to ice it with various designs and dollops of icing.

“So that’s the pan you dropped this morning,” you noted, smiling at the memory of the loud noise he thought woke you.

His cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, and he dropped his head in brief embarrassment. “After I washed it, yeah. Sorry about that.”

You giggled at his bashfulness, gazing at the reason he had left the bed this morning. You had been a little upset, but this made it all worth it. “This is… incredibly sweet, Josh.”

“Like I said, you deserve it.” He shrugged and grabbed a knife out of one of your drawers. “Now, do you want me to sing happy birthday for a third time today, or do you want me to slice it?”

His goofiness made you release a belly laugh. “Slice it! I was wondering why we skipped dessert tonight.”

“Okay, okay. Go sit down and I’ll bring you a slice.” He waved you off dismissively, which you quickly heeded.

“Do you want me to pour your glass of wine?” You questioned over your shoulder as you walked, but you already knew the answer before you heard him.

“Yes please!”

By the time he came back with two plates in his hands, you had finished pouring the wine into both glasses and had grabbed the remote to start the movies. “Is this gonna be our thing? Staying up until the crack of dawn while we eat sweets and drink wine?”

“If you want it to be,” he replied with a shrug, handing you your plate once you had sat at your end of the couch.

You honestly weren’t sure how to respond. At this point, you knew you wanted it to be your ‘thing’ with Josh. You wanted everything to be your thing with him. There was no denying that you had certainly developed feelings for your best friend, and by now, you were even starting to get over the guilt of it all. Danny had his chance, and Josh stepped up. You’d be stupid to not fall for him.

Instead of focusing on the conversation, you scooped a bite of the cake into your mouth, instantly melting at how moist and fluffy the food was. You hummed in satisfaction from the taste of the cake. “This is wonderful. Just what I needed.”

Josh seemed pleased at your reaction, smiling at your expression and sitting beside you, cutting into his slice. “Yeah?”

Your mouth was full, so all you could give him was a muffled “Mhm.” while you chewed.

“And I hope that means you had a good birthday?”

You had told yourself that you’d drink much slower for the rest of the night, hopeful to remember the night in a much more cohesive manner, but you had left your water at the counter and were far too preoccupied to go get it. You instead gulped some of the wine to wash down the cake. “Arguably the best birthday. I can’t thank you enough.”

He started to nibble on his bottom lip again, soothing the bite with a swipe of his tongue while you spoke. He averted eye contact with you as he watched his fork poke into the last piece of his slice. “You don’t have to thank me, Bip. It really isn’t much.”

“You’ve not stopped taking care of me since you got off that plane. Hell, even before then. You’ve done more than you realize.”

The bashful expression is soon replaced with a smirk, and you knew he was preparing to throw another lighthearted quip your way. “Now who’s getting sappy?”

“I hate you,” you joked as you grabbed his empty plate and put them both in the kitchen. When you came back, he had moved his legs to lay on the couch, much like the first night he had stayed in your home. You smiled down at him and took the same position you had been in that night, slotted between his legs with your arms around his waist, cheek pressed into his chest.

It felt much more natural and domestic than it did before. You didn’t have to pretend, act like there wasn’t an elephant in the room that had brought you to this position. Things flowed honestly, genuinely, and intentionally, between you two. You didn’t have to force things, you didn’t have to question his every move. Whatever happened, happened, and you were more than okay with that.

Josh’s normal movie critique happened on cue with each scene, but he still let you enjoy the film. He even swayed your conjoined bodies once “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo” came on, purposely singing it incorrectly to make you giggle in reminiscence at the song that birthed your nickname. As the movies continued though, he had grown quieter and still. You knew he was growing tired, but it was his deviated septum that gave it away, making him snore softly just once before he woke himself up.

You looked up at him with a drowsy smile of your own. “Are you falling asleep up there?”

“No,” he mutters and grins sleepily. His eyes would close in deliberate, languid blinks, occasionally staying closed for a beat too long.

As much as you wanted to stay like this, watching him desperately try to stay awake, you knew he was far too uncomfortable to sleep well. You started to shift so you could lift off of him. “Let’s go to bed-”

“No!” he whispers hurriedly as his eyes fly open. He tightened his grip around your waist and pulled you back on top of him. Your hands flew to his chest to steady you, and you instinctively laughed from surprise at his actions, but he seemed much more earnest about it. “Let’s just… stay here, yeah? Just a little longer.”

It was the first time he had stared into your eyes, this close, since he came to your home. If you hadn’t had feelings for him already, this moment was sure to make them come about. Aside from the abnormally fast pace it had taken on, you thought you could feel your heart swell at the intimacy of the situation. You knew Josh had noticed your blushing, mainly because of the smile that graced his lips, but also because he moved his hand to your cheek, swiping a thumb over the warm, red skin.

You don’t know how long you both stayed like that, and honestly, you couldn’t care less. You relished in each brush of Josh’s hand as he moved some of your hair to the side of your neck and let it return to your jaw. You noticed he was glancing down at your lips and back up to your eyes, seemingly surveying the situation to see what his next step should be. That’s why you took things into your own hands.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you closed the distance between you both, smashing your lips into his. At first, both of you were unmoving, basking in the contact, studying each other’s lips with your own as if you were cramming the night before a test. You both sighed into each other before pulling away for a breath, gazing into the other’s shining eyes just briefly before returning for another, needy and desperate kiss.

You opened your mouth, inviting him in to intensify the kiss, which he accepted. He let his mouth glide against yours, working in perfect unison as you moved to straddle his lap. His hands moved to your hips while he sat up straighter than he had been before. You held onto his face, scared that he’d disappear if you let go, worried that the kiss would end if the connection did.

Just like you, he was hungry for the taste that transpired when your lips met, but he tried to be as delicate as he possibly could be. There had been many times in which he imagined kissing you, especially within the past few days, and now that he had you, he wanted to soak it in for as long as possible. He could feel your fingers running in his curls, one of his weaknesses that he was sure you weren’t aware of. He tried to restrain himself as best as he could, wanting to take things slow with you, but when you tugged against the locks, he couldn’t help but groan against your lips.

Hearing the sweet sound leave his lips caused your movements to become frenzied. You ground yourself against him, and his hands worked your hips to aid in the movement. It was when he pressed his hips forward into yours that you let yourself moan with him, but it was also then that he disconnected his lips from yours.

“No, please don’t stop,” you whined. You should’ve been ashamed of how needy your words and actions were, but you didn’t care. You wanted him, needed him, in every way possible. If you couldn’t have his lips, you’d let yours settle on his jaw, trailing down to his neck and collar.

“Bip… fuck-“ He was trying to pull you away from him without startling you, but he was having trouble regaining control of his own emotions to properly do so. Especially with your hands and mouth roaming his body.

“We really should be getting to bed,” he tried again. He knew you probably thought he was simply trying to play down the situation, and bring a sense of lightheartedness to such a monumental part of your relationship, but he squeezed your hips harder to tug you away from him. “Seriously. I mean it.”

He hoped he didn’t sound too aggressive in his demand, but once he saw your shoulders slump, he knew he had failed. Your swollen, glistening lips were forming a tight frown, and he hurt knowing he had caused the expression. You could only bring your voice to a whisper, afraid that anything more would let the dam break.

“Oh. Oh okay,” you said softly as you tried to regain your composure. You were shaking, both from the adrenaline and from the denial. You quickly detached your hands from him and moved off of his lap.

“I’m sorry,” he called after you as you began turning off the television and cleaning up the bottles and glasses in front of you.

You shook your head. It was full of swimming thoughts, uncertainty and embarrassment being a common characteristic in each of them. “No, it’s okay. You’re right.”

“Bip,” he breathed, standing from his place on the couch and watching you quickly move around the room, placing plates and glassware in the sink for tomorrow’s to-do list.

You were too embarrassed to look at him, but you apologized as much as your resolve would let you. Each slew of regret was met with Josh trying to soothe your worries, tell you that everything was okay, but you couldn’t hear him over your own conscience screaming at you and telling you that you fucked up. You carried on your cleaning duties and nighttime routines in silence and with avoidant expressions.

Surprisingly, he still laid beside you that night, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. On the one hand, you were glad that you hadn’t messed up enough that he was repulsed by you. You felt feelings of repulsion for yourself, annoyed that you had let it go as far as it did, and disappointed that you couldn’t be more patient with things. If something was supposed to transpire between you and Josh, you were in no place to initiate it yourself. There were too many factors to go into this, and you didn’t care enough to consider them before you let things get out of hand. You thanked all of the higher beings that he was still your best friend at least, even with everything that happened that night.

But on the other hand, his presence was bittersweet. As much as you wanted to relax into his touch for another night, his arm around your waist felt different. Maybe you were imagining things, but it didn’t seem to be draped around you as tightly as he had let it the night before. It seemed to be placed out of hesitant obligation, rather than out of affection. His body heat, and your fast-beating heart, only reminded you of what you had started but were unable to finish. And with Josh leaving tomorrow, you were unsure if you’d ever get the chance to try again.

part 8>>>

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[mxvladdy]

Hi! just finished reading your Tumblr request on AO3 and I just looooove your writing ;; if it's not a problem I wanted to ask how you imagine that Lucifer, Mammon and Beel would react to a MC who is usually very quiet and not very expressive, impossible to embarrass or make nervous, to suddenly, one day manage to make her blush for the first time (Also, English is not my first language, so I hope this is okey) I wish you a lovely week ❤

A/N: This is adorable! Sorry for the slow turn around, I hope you enjoy!❤

Lucifer

Stoicism is something he normally finds very attractive in a woman. To be able to keep such a level of calm outlook during even times that might even shake him. He loves the idea of a power couple, and the way you hold yourself. You definitely make one.

It does grate him that he can’t fluster you like you do him, especially during your time together in private. He tries multiple ways to even just draw some color to your cheeks. Flowers in the classroom, hand written invitations to private dining establishments and venues, he even went to the human realm just to find some kind of familiar comfort to give to you. You love them all he knows but he wants, craves to see an uninhibited reaction from you. He’ll get it one day, his pride depends on it at this point.

Luck graces him one evening after a hellish work day. A fight in the school yard leading to property damage he had to do extra paper work for. The only saving grace of that was it wasn’t one of his brothers, this time. Only followed soon after by a report of yet another racket engineered by Mammon. Then, to top off a horrible day one of Belphie and Satan’s little “pranks” blew up half his office.

All his loose or unprotected paperwork, gone. Nothing but smoldering bits of ash. He was now more than ever thankful to have you by his side. Before he could get his hands on the two you stepped in shooing him away to deal with the other fires that needed to be put out while you handled his office.

Things got done, in record time for once. He was able to rewrite his notes for the next council meeting, but at the cost of your weekday dinner together. A pity, but he knew you understood. Trudging up to his room he looked forward to perhaps a few hours of sleep before the next crisis struck. Then he found you.

He chuckles to himself quietly leaning against his door frame. You had beaten him to his favorite resting roost. You sat on his favorite armchair, rolled up tight in his comforter. All he could see was a tuft of hair and the very tip of your nose. Beautiful as always, but he wanted to rest. Well-two birds, one stone and all…

He scoops you up envious of how deeply you could slumber and places you on his lap. Kicking off his shoes he sighs blissfully before resting his head back on worn leather.

Mini fic

You didn’t expect to see Lucifer tonight. Today has been the absolute definition of a shit show, on nights like these it wasn’t uncommon for you not to see him at all. You would normally place your bets on him being unconscious at his desk. Though, he couldn’t really do that tonight. You pat yourself on the back mentally knowing that he would be pleased with the work you and the brothers did cleaning up his office. While you couldn’t get them to apologize to Lucifer you at least got them to clean up what was salvageable in his study.

After a few hours of cleaning his office was back in working order and your feet were screaming for a break. Bidding the two miscreants farewell and making them promise to hold off on the pranks for at least a week you let your body lead you to Lucifer’s room. The room was how you left it that morning. Your slippers next to his by the door and your robe tossed haphazardly on his linen sheets. You make a beeline for the only piece of furniture Lucifer loved dearly. How many nights had you snuck in only to see him melting into the old chain. His long legs sprawled out and tangled in his foot rest, while his body sinks into the imprints he has left from years of use like a lover's embrace.

Yanking the thin comforter from his bed you curl into the divots with a yawn. Before you know it your eyes close and the crackling of the fireplace lulls you to sleep. You awake with a jolt, confused and disoriented for a moment before your sleepy brain catches up. You fell asleep alone on the soft leather but woke to something unyielding beneath you now.

Lucifer sits underneath you snoring softly. His arms rest around your blanketed body. His head tilts down over you, his nose tickling your hairline. Like always he sports a mild look of annoyance. His lips were drawn in a scowl, brows crinkling in displease. You could tell his jaw was tense even while he slept.

Freeing your arms from your cocoon you reach up from him moving to cup his twitching jaw. With practiced ease you began to message the pin joints. You smile to yourself moving down to his tense neck and shoulders. This had become a nightly ritual for you when you shared a bed. When you knew he was asleep you would start trying to work away some of his tension from the previous day. You swear in the morning that he looks better on the nights you get the chance to.

This was your little secret though. You couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing you did this. Not that you thought he would disapprove. Lucifer appreciated acts of service, but just the thought of him knowing made your whole body heat in a flush. You push the thoughts away focusing instead on the extremely tight muscles underneath his brow line. It amazed you that he didn’t have any wrinkles after all this.

So engrossed in your perusal of his features you didn’t notice him stirring till his warm palm traps your hand to his cheek. Before you realize it his lips push a firm kiss into the flesh of your palm. Scarlet eyes meet yours crinkling around the edges. They were warm and radiant. “You’re blushing.” His voice was deep and husky from what little sleep he got.

“What?” You stammer.

Lucifer leans in tapping his forehead on yours. He studies your wide eyes and pink face for a moment before cracking a smug grin. “I’ve never seen you flustered before. Your blush looks good on you.”

“You caught me off guard.” He nods, kissing the tip of your nose tenderly taking impish glee in your squirming.

“Good-I will strive to do so more often. I wish to see you as undone as you make me.”

Mammon

Stoic MC? Rare pair? Rare pair. Mammon wears his heart on his sleeve. Nothing about him is slick. From week one everyone knew he had it bad for you. He is so open with his affections whether he likes it or not. Unlike you.

Honestly, how were you always so controlled. Ain’t the dame supposed to be all blushy and giggly too? It-it makes him think he isn’t doing something right. Is he not treating you right? Were you unhappy?

So he goes to do what he does best. Scheme. There has to be someway to crack that stoic disposition of yours. He gets clingy-well clingier now. He starts springing random vacations on you. Expect to skip class whenever he thinks he won’t get skinned alive for it.

He’ll take you anywhere all his internet research tells him to. Black sand beaches, crowded boardwalks to see the lights, deserted hiking trails late in the evening to watch the fireflies. He is sure it will work. But nope, nada. You love every moment of it and show him with a soul searing kiss and sweet words of praise. But damn you if you aren’t always so cool about it.

He is about to throw in the towel when he finally gets what he wants. At work no less. It was completely by accident but he isn’t one to complain. Perhaps he should go to work more often.

Mini Fic

“Pucker up!” Mammon’s make-up artist orders, squeezing his cheeks between her thumb and forefinger. “And for Diavolo’s sake put your phone down.”

“Shove off Cazzin.” Mammon sputters around the sour tasting lip stain and plumper. His eyes still glued to his screen. His freshly done nails swiping at picture after picture of fancy hotels and spas. Just thinking about taking you a private spring got his blood boiling in the best ways.

“Woooow.” Cazz whistles through her fangs looking at his screen. “Who is the lucky lady you are trying to impress this time?

“Mammon bristles, shooting her a murderous glance. The smaller demon blanches, purple skin turning ashy with fear. Her eyes drop to the floor immediately in submission, a sincere apology falling from her lips. “My girlfriend.” He says finally after cooling down. “I’m-I’m trying to impress her or something.”

“Well, pretty sure with a price tag like that anyone would be impressed.” Mammon only grunts barely glancing at the excessive amount of zeros on the page. Any other girl he knew would be a blushing mess after getting a gift like this. Hells, even Cazz was eyeing the site with open envy and excitement. Yet, this wasn’t the first time he had done something like this with you. Every time he did all he got was a blisteringly radiant smile and kisses that probably could send him back to heaven if he didn’t have a life long ban there. Not that that was a bad thing...but he just wanted more.

“You would think so…” He trails off clicking his phone off to focus on the rest of his routine. No sooner had his hair and make-up artist finished then his director was stomping and shouting down the hall for him to get his ass on set. Grimacing Mammon slides off his seat stretching to spare himself a few more seconds of peace. He stops at the door taking one last look at his get up for this shoot.

Damn, he looks good. It was time for a new spring collection, but more importantly, his most popular season. The light spring colors always brought out his best features. The pastel cotton shirt they “fashionably” threw him in hung casually around his frame. Buttons “tastefully” undone to show the smooth planes of his freely waxed and oiled skin. The linen board shorts and finishing touch of leather sandals gave him the perfect beach vibe. At top dollar mind you.

Hmmm-perhaps he could borrow this outfit for your next beach outing.

Unable to tone out his bosses shouting anymore Mammon makes his way to set. He thinks hard on what else he can go or take you to impress you, ignoring the poking and prodding of his camera men and set designers. His partners today, two incubus twins stood sourly next to him. They had been at this for hours and even he was ready for a break from the sweltering heat of the lights.

“Alright! Alright!” The director broke an hour later tired of the twins whining. He throws his hands in the air in exasperation. “We’ll break for an hour for lunch- lost the light as is.” He huffs stumping off for a smoke break.

“Finally,” Mammon sighs from his pose on the ground. “Think I got sand in my ass.” He gets up from the ground grimacing as he tries to brush the grit off his legs. “Shit starts to burn when they get hot.” One of the twins nods looking down at their own arms. Tiny burn marks showing on their fair skin, they will heal by the time the shoot resumes, doesn’t mean they will be happy about it.

“Want to grab lunch?” The twins ask tossing him a towel to blot at his sweating brow. “New food truck is coming in today.” Mammon shakes his head. You had packed him something to eat this morning and he kind of wanted to enjoy it in peace for once.

Waving the two off he hurries back to his room already salivating at whatever tasty food you got him. Halfway to the door he stops, the fine hairs on his neck standing up. Someone was in his dressing room. Devil’s please don’t let it be another rabid fan. He pleads before creeping forward to check. Whoever it was left the door ajar, peaking in he stares enraptured.

When did you get here? It wasn’t abnormal for you to just drop by while he was working, but you usually waited for him on set behind the cameras. You sit humming to yourself reading something on your lap, feet kicking out innocently while you wait for him. Flipping a page he gets a glimpse of what you’re reading. His feathers ruffle in satisfaction. He had plans on showing you these shots before their release date. They still needed approval from his director but he knew they were great. You flip through shot after shot humming or nodding at some. One shot makes you stop fully, eyes growing wide.

Mammon snorts to himself, knowing exactly which photo you stopped on. The next issue was focusing on “Elegance in the work space”, whatever that means. His designer for the projects went a little overboard with the cuts and designs of the business suites he was to model. The sketches and drafts she had thrust at him had made his head spin. They were all amazing in his opinion, but one had been killer, everyone had agreed on that. If he didn’t know any better he was certain that it would put him on the cover. By the way you were looking at it, he was hoping it would.

That suit really complimented all of his features. It was form fitting accenting his slim waist but hid the slight sloping of his shoulders. The gold of the threading of his vest was done up in soft floral patterns that popped against the dark navy blue of the suit's fabric. The dark blue really brought out the lightness of his eyes. The look was topped off with a bright yellow silk pocket square, polished leather wingtips and gold cufflinks. He was about to interrupt you when he saw it, that one thing he wanted more than anything.

The pink starts at your ears swiping across the bridge of your nose before blooming on your round cheeks. It was breathtaking. Thinking he was being sneaky, Mammon whips out his phone for a quick picture, no one would believe him unless he had solid evidence. But the flash gives him away.

“Mammon!” You jump caught, hands flying to cover your warm face.

“Oi! None of that!” Mammon moves quickly snatching your hands away from your face beaming. “I’ve been waiting for ages to see this face on ya, an’ all it took was a picture of me?”

“You- you clean up really nicely, Mammon.” His hearts flutter at your soft admission.

“Huh,” Mammon scratches his neck, feeling his own blush coming forth. “Well- I mean I could do that more often, so long as you keep looking at me like this when I do.” He picks up the stack of photos from the floor where you dropped them in surprise. “Ya know- I still got that suit.”

Your face turns molten- oh he was going to have a field day with this.

Beelzebub

Doesn’t even notice at first. He is kind of the same way with expressing himself too- unless food is involved. So if you are content then he is content, so who cares if you don’t show it on your face?

Well- he didn’t care, until Belphie brought it up. His twin didn’t mean anything by it; he knew that, but it made him wonder. He trusts you when you say you are happy, you have no reason to lie to him. But date nights, game nights, and family dinners you were always so impassive.

It makes him wonder, not enough to ask you though. Truthfully, he is a little embarrassed that he can’t read you as you do him. He won’t force it like his brothers might. He is patient and hopes one day it will just come naturally like it does for him around you.

Mini Fic

Beel watches you over his lunch. You two were silent as you ate, but that was to be expected on days like these. The school cafe was packed with students all jockeying to get a place in line for today’s special. He had gotten there early for the both of you to gap a few of the specials and sides before they were gone. “Are you ok?” He puts his fork down leaning in close to speak to you across the small table. It creaks dangerously under the weight of his elbows on it. You look up from your tea mug. He smiles at your perpetually mild expression, your eyes were hard but your lips and brows were relaxed giving away nothing.

“Of course.” You smile up at him, face smooth and controlled. “Just excited about tonight.”

Hmph, could have fooled him. Beel leans back, studying you intently. He hopes you were as excited as he was for tonight. A new arcade had opened on the edge of town last week and he thought it would be a great date night for the two of you. He had expressed to you on several occasions how he was looking forward to the roller rink and the hoop games. You seemed eager, giving him a closed lip grin every time he brought it up. “Me too.” Beel says finally turning back to his food. “Think we will win any prizes?”

You snort dismissively. “Us? The dream team? I would be surprised if we didn’t win something. Have you seen the plushies?” You pull out your phone and show him their Devilgram. “I want to try and get the hydra one…” You prattle on and scroll through all the cute prizes on their site. He nods along taking a mental note of all the ones that you pointed at, determined to get each and every one for you.

School goes by quickly, far too quickly for him. Each tick of the clock caught him by surprise, jacking his nerves up more and more. It wasn’t like it was his first date with you, but it never stopped the butterflies from starting in his stomach. After school he changes quickly and waits for you by your bedroom door. He fiddles with the zipper of his jacket until you finally open your door.

“Ready?” The smile you throw up at him is breathtaking. “Hope you don’t mind my get up. You mentioned a roller ring so I figured something sporty and functional would be appropriate.” You kick out a leg waving a hand over your bright sport leggings.

Beel chuckles offering you his large hand. “You look adorable as always.”

Being with you was as easy as breathing to him now. After all your time together in the house getting to know you you became one of his closest friends, even before you started dating. You shared many of his interests and wasn’t afraid to argue your point if you saw fit. You fill the train ride to the arcade with idle chatter, goofy selfies to send to his siblings, and annoying the other passengers with your ill-contained chuckles.

The place itself was packed but well spread out to handle the massive throngs of demons and beasts coming for drinks and a good time. “Come on!” You shout over the other very drunk and very loud customers tugging at his sleeve. “Let’s get some coins and find an empty station.” He lets you lead. You take full advantage of his impressive frame to part the crowds around you as you hunt for a free spot. “See anything?”

Beel peers over the heads of most of the demons and looks out. In the far corner sat a few jump rope games that were free. “Stay close.” He murmurs in your ear wrapping a protective arm your shoulders so you wouldn’t be swept away in the flow of the crowd. The games were...hard. Mentally Beel kicks himself. Of course an arcade in the Devildom wouldn’t be geared for humans. They were built for demons' fast reflexes and inhuman strength. You were a good sport about it though, cheering him on when the games began to move too fast for your senses. If a game broke in his zeal to get you tickets, well you were both fast walkers.

“Think we have enough?” Beelzebub asks hours later around a popsicle. His jacket pockets bulge with multicolored tickets screaming to be spent.

You hum around a scoop of ice cream. “Possibly-” Your eyes flick to the prize booth. “And extra, you want a plushie too?” He shrugs. No doubt the moment it got into his room Belphie will steal it to add to his horde.

You end up getting your stuffed hydra and a giant fuzzy minotaur to keep it “company”. You clutch them close to your chest, seemingly happy with your bounties. After that you spend a bit at the roller ring before you finally had to call it a night. Exhausted you lag behind Beel as you make your way back to the train station, feet dragging with each step.

Wordlessly, Beel stops just in front of you. “Here,” He squats, offering you his back, arms stretched out behind him. “I can take us the rest of the way to the stop.” He feels you hesitate for a moment before climbing on to his back.

“Thank you.” He thinks nothing of how soft your voice was, just barely a tickle at the base of his neck. Beel treks one once you are secure, stuffing his hands in his pockets to lock you in place. The rest of the walk was quiet but he didn’t mind it, your warm body and soft breathing in his ear was a comfort.

He stops at the benches with a few minutes to spare before your train. “We are here. Do you want-” He gasps quietly, cutting himself off before he could accidentally wake you. You sleep on unperturbed by his voice. Your hold on around his neck was tight, your head buried in his neck.

It seems only when you're sleeping do you let your guard down. A blush sweeps across your face, your lips pulled up into a serene smile. You looked-happy. Happy in a way he never saw before. He won’t say anything about it, he decides. He’ll cherish this tiny expression all the same. Perhaps one day he’ll see when you're awake too.

[delimeful]

neither calm nor quiet

BTHB: Trapped In A Net

warnings: miscommunication, past familial and domestic abuse mentions, injury, violence, terrible decision making skills

-

When Virgil finally decided to brave shallower waters, it had already been nearly half a moon cycle since Logan had vanished.

He’d made excuses at first, telling himself that the dread he felt was just his normal brand of overwrought paranoia. For the first few days, he was half-convinced that his curiosity-prone friend would appear at any moment, probably lugging some sort of stray litter or ‘interesting human artifact’ along with him to explain why he’d been late.

Things would be normal again. Virgil would find some rocks for them to sun on and Logan would ramble on about the potential uses of his find, and maybe Virgil would teasingly suggest some outlandish way the trash was secretly a violent human weapon, just to hear Logan thoroughly refute it.

After another three days passed with no sign of the other selkie, Virgil was forced to let that fantasy fade. Logan had never been this late before, not even that time he’d managed to carry an entire minifridge along with him for Virgil to identify.

Something had to have happened to him.

He’d spent the next week scouring the currents for any sign of his missing friend, even approaching other pods and asking around, requesting that they keep an eye out for any signs of Logan. He didn’t expect much from that; the two of them didn’t socialize with other selkies often enough to make any friends, and their two-person pod was too small to spare any food during winter, so there was nothing for the other pods to gain by helping them.

Virgil knew better than most how selfish pod politics could be.

Every few days, he would return to their meeting spot and catch a few hours of sleep to keep himself from crashing, always naively hoping that Logan would be there when he woke. He never was.

In the end, he had to face what he’d already known from the beginning: either Logan was dead, or he’d gone onland and gotten himself bound by a human.

He didn’t want to believe Logan had decided to brave the human world even after Virgil’s many, many warnings against it, but believing the alternative was even worse. So, he steeled himself to do the one thing he’d sworn to never do again, and headed for the cold, rocky shores of the nearest human settlement.

Naturally, he spent so long swimming back and forth between different stretches of beach, trying to force himself to take those literal first steps, that he didn’t notice the woven fibers dancing in the water until he’d plowed right into them.

A fishing net, dyed skillfully to blend in with the water, and large enough that when he tried to twist out of it, he only became further entangled.

Panic set in, then, clouding his mind and leaving him thrashing ineffectively like a simple animal. He couldn’t help it-- he couldn’t breathe underwater in either form, had no gills to keep him steady as he was dragged along by the current. He couldn’t untangle himself while adrift, couldn’t find solid ground while tangled. He would drown.

Between one blink and the next, he found himself in open air, gritty sand pressed against his face. Waves crested gently around him, a sharp contrast to the headache pounding around in his skull.

He never thought he’d be relieved about blacking out and beaching himself, but then, he’d never been worried about drowning in his own element before.

Okay. There weren’t any humans around to see the stupid idiot seal stuck on the beach. This was still salvageable.

Taking a deep breath, he attempted to bite through the netting with his incisors, and got a mouthful of sore gums for his trouble. The dyed fibers seemed to be woven around a base net of fishing wire, because of course they were. He let his head thunk back to the sandy ground, groaning at the new surge of pain the motion caused.

Sun-warmed saltwater continued to wash over his tail, and he blinked slowly, measuring his breaths. He could figure this out. He wouldn’t dry out. He just needed a moment to put himself back together. He could… He…

His eyelids grew heavy, and everything went dark.

-

Roman thought the guy was a pile of garbage at first, to be quite honest.

Not on purpose, of course! But, come on, when one sees a mound of mystery washed up on shore, it generally ends up being a bunch of tangled old fishing nets wrapped around half-rotted driftwood, not a bunch of tangled old fishing nets wrapped around beautiful strangers wearing expensive-looking fur coats!

His next thought, once he’d gotten closer, was that the beautiful stranger wearing the expensive-looking fur coat was dead, and that a body had washed up on his little strip of shoreline. Pallid skin, blue lips, and deep shadows under their eyes-- the beautiful stranger wasn’t exactly giving off an aura of vim and vigor.

He’d spent a few moments staring at his contact list, trying to figure out what in the world he was supposed to do about a body. Should he call 911? �� Should he call Remus?

Before he could make a decision either way, he finally picked up on the shallow rise and fall of the beautiful stranger’s chest, and realized that they were still alive! Potentially not for much longer, laying out in the cold all soggy like that, but Roman could work with mostly alive!

And so, he found himself here, carefully carrying the small but surprisingly dense stranger up to his home by the cliffs, and risking looking like a total serial killer doing it.

He couldn’t help but theorize as he walked. A beautiful stranger in expensive clothing, tangled in nets with what appeared to be a head wound… It read like an old unsolved case in a detective novel, where the mysterious stranger in question got in too deep with some dangerous people and ended up clubbed over the head and dumped into a river to tie up loose ends.

“Except you managed to survive, obviously,” Roman said to them, mostly to reassure himself. He really had to stop eavesdropping on Remus’s true crime podcasts. “And you made your way to me! Excellent choice, I’m great at nursing people back to health. Probably. I don’t have much practical experience, but, you know, I’ve read extensively about this exact thing. In romance novels. As one does.”

The beautiful and mysterious stranger continued to be unconscious. Roman was starting to feel grateful for it.

His house was empty, thankfully, since his brother had work to attend to today. He fumbled with the keys for a moment before pushing the door open and carrying the stranger inside, sighing with relief at the warm air.

“That’s got to feel much better, hm?”

He sat the stranger down in the foyer, removing his shoes to go grab some scissors from the kitchen.

“First order of business,” he announced in his best announcer voice, “getting all that netting off of you. While I’m sure you could rock fishnet leggings, fish nets on their own just don’t have the same je ne sais quoi, you know? Also, they look very uncomfortable. You’re great at staying still, so just keep that up.”

He carefully cut his way through the looser parts of netting, pulling it off piece by piece until all that was left were the abrasions where they’d formerly cut into skin. Roman had no idea how they’d even managed to get that tangled up, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It couldn’t have been pretty.

In the process of removing the net, however, he’d noticed another rather pressing matter.

Going by the flash of thigh he’d accidentally witnessed while shifting the net around, the stranger definitely wasn't wearing anything under that fur coat of theirs. Like, nothing.

(Exactly what kind of situation had the stranger been in before this?!)

Even so, leaving them in a sodden coat couldn’t be good for their constitution. Or his poor couch’s upholstery.

Roman spent a few moments puzzling the situation out before coming up with a brilliant solution. He retrieved the fluffy gold comforter from his bed and draped it over the stranger, covering their front half with it. Then, he carefully worked their arms out of the coat’s sleeves, very pointedly not focusing on the adorable freckled shoulders this operation revealed. Finally, he tugged the entire coat out from behind them, wincing at the slight furrow that appeared in their brow.

“Sorry, sorry, I know the cold floor can’t be comfortable…”

Soggy coat removed, he was free to continue bundling the rest of the comforter around the stranger’s back, therefore making it easy for him to pick them up in a neat little bundle of blanket and deposit them on the couch. No nudity awkwardness required!

Pleased with his solution, he draped a fluffy towel over the stranger’s head and carefully dried some of the dampness from their hair. Next, he wasted no time in stoking the fire higher in his hearth, sending waves of warmth into the room and making it so the stranger’s skin didn’t look quite so clammy.

Once he’d cleaned up the mess left in the foyer and grabbed the first aid kit from under his sink, he planted himself in a chair next to the couch, feeling ready to handle anything.

“Okay, Google. How do I treat a head wound?”

-

Virgil felt as though he’d woken to a nightmare.

He was in the wrong body, surrounded on all sides by heavy fabric and warm air, and his coat was missing. That list of facts alone was just about as bad as any night terror he’d had.

The humming was unusual, though.

A soft tune, occasionally broken up by a half-muttered lyric or two, carried through the air, voice completely at ease. His mother had never sung to him in front of others, and it sure as hell wasn’t his father.

He tried to remember where he’d been last. The back of his head stung… he’d ended up on a beach? The tide had been turning, from high to low… He must have dried out up there, changed into his less durable form. And now he was warm and dry.

He clenched his fists weakly and grit his teeth, knowing that a human had found him and stolen him away. Just like his mother. He’d come to find Logan and lost himself before ever even starting. Typical.

“Are you with us, Sleeping Beauty?” a bright voice asked.

The humming had broken off while he was absorbed in his thoughts, and now he could hear the shift and rustle of movement next to him. He opened his eyes, already aiming the coldest possible glare at his captor.

He was sort of surprised to find that the human sitting at his side wasn’t holding his coat. His father used to make a point of handling his mother’s coat at any opportunity. He’d liked to watch his mother stare at it, resting assured that so long as he held it in his possession, she could do him no harm.

This human was much younger than his father had been, probably around as old as Virgil was now. He had dark skin and soft eyes that reflected the firelight, and he was smiling hopefully at Virgil.

“Hello there! It’s excellent to see you looking a little more lively! I was starting to think about actually calling the hospital, heh.”

Wordlessly, Virgil slowly shifted to sit up, shoving the thick blanket out and shaking the cloth from his head. He looked down, confirming what he already knew. No coat. The human hadn’t even bothered to dress him up in human trappings to ‘make up’ for the absence.

“Ah, yeah... I sort of basically pulled you out of the ocean and what little you were wearing was completely soaked.” The human rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I figured it’d be less of an invasion of privacy to just let you get dressed yourself once you woke up?”

Oh, the human was worried about his privacy? What a joke.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, truly!” the human continued, oblivious to Virgil’s rising ire. He gave a mocking little bow, pretending to respect the one he’d abducted. “My sincerest apologies.”

He was done playing along with mind games like these. Better to let the human know where they stood right off the bat.

“I’m going to kill you,” Virgil promised, and then lunged for the human’s jugular.

To his genuine surprise, he actually made contact, hands clamping onto the junction between collar and throat. The human let out a high-pitched yelp as his chair toppled over, taking both of them with it.

Virgil landed knee-first on the human’s sternum, and paused to blink down at the wheezing stranger, who apparently had been so confident in the weakness of his victim that he hadn’t bothered to bind Virgil from harming him in advance.

Unless.

His grip loosened slightly, just in time for the human’s fist to catch him squarely in the mouth. He threw himself backwards, rolling with the force of the motion to get some distance and hunkering in a crouch. It had been too long since he’d been active in this form, his sense of balance was in shambles.

The human scrambled to his feet, and grabbed the back of the chair, eyes wild. He thrust it out between them like a barrier, as though it could prevent any more strangulation attempts.

“What is wrong with you?!” he shrieked, voice cracking as his gaze flickered back and forth between Virgil and some far off point. “I tenderly nursed you back to health, and your response is to try and murder me? Unfair! Cruel! Rude!”

“Where is my coat?” Virgil replied, voice hoarse and split lip stinging. A test, because humans were tricky and loved to lie.

“Your— your coat?” The human pulled up short, head tilting slightly in a bewildered manner. A convincing actor, if nothing else. “Is that what all this is about? I put it on the coat hanger to dry! I know better than to try and wash someone’s fancy fur coat without permission, yeesh.”

A low warning growl in the back of his throat, Virgil turned his gaze from the current threat and followed the gesture the human had made.

Sure enough, there it was. His freedom, draped on a peg in the open with all the rest of the human’s fabric outer layers like some common garment.

“Do you… want me to get it— eep!” The human lifted the chair back up in paltry defense as Virgil snarled at him. He rose up and crossed the distance to his pelt in five wobbly strides, before the human could try and return it to him and lock them both into a loveless marriage.

Some of the tension eased from his shoulders as he quickly wrapped his second skin around him, that grounding weight settling back where it belonged. He still couldn’t shift back, not here, but the ocean was close enough to taste in the air.

The human was still huddled defensively by the fireplace, looking indignantly bewildered and not at all like he knew he’d just given up the perfect opportunity to control Virgil.

Which meant that-- barring some incredibly convoluted scheme-- he really had no idea. And Virgil had tried to strangle him, even if under false pretenses. He drew the edges of his pelt closer around him, rolling the beginnings of an apology around in his mind.

-

The mysterious stranger was still glaring at Roman like they were contemplating continuing to try and strangle him to death at any moment.

He’d brought a half-drowned stranger into his home and tenderly treated their injuries, and what had he received in return for his efforts? A murder attempt, which now that he thought about it was maybe an outcome he should have considered earlier. Remus would never let him live this down.

Assuming he lived long enough for his brother to give him shit about it, that was.

The stranger seemed to at least be a little calmer now that their reclaimed coat was thoroughly wrapped around them, rendering them more lump-shaped than person. Roman felt much more secure in glaring back, too.

He set his impromptu shield/chair down firmly on the floor. “I have no idea what your problem is, Gloomy B. Jones, but where I’m from, the response to someone saving you from dying of hypothermia is ‘thank you’, not a strangulation attempt!”

The murderglare intensified. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Yes,” Roman said, disbelieving, “because you were too busy being unconscious. On the beach. In 40-below temperatures!”

“That’s my problem, not yours,” the stranger responded snappishly.

Roman threw his hands in the air, but his impending frustrated rant was impeded by the sight of a stifled flinch running through the stranger. Feeling a stab of guilt, he lowered his arms slowly before continuing.

“It seems I made it my problem when I dragged your soggy self all the way to my house, so--”

“Great news for you, then: I’m leaving.” Baring their teeth in a distinctly unfriendly manner, the stranger turned to do just that.

“Hold it!” Roman called, alarmed. “You’re going into town like that?! People will think you’re a flasher!” Even his brother wouldn’t go out dressed in nothing but an oversized coat. ... Probably.

The stranger paused, squinting at him warily. Roman took it as a cue to continue.

“Look, clearly we got off on the wrong foot here. Several wrong feet. Let’s try again. I’m Roman Faroe, I work for the local newspaper, and you are…?”

“None of your business,” replied the stranger, with all the stubborn petulance of a toddler digging their heels in and refusing to move whilst smack dab in the middle of an overcrowded supermarket.

“Would you like me to call you ‘Almost-Corpse-I-Dragged-Off-The-Beach?’ Perhaps make up a thematic nickname or two for you? Because let me tell you, this is exactly how you get called--,”

“Hold on,” the stranger cut him off, a realization seeming to dawn on him, “did you say you worked for the news?”

“Yes, I mean, the newspaper not the news. Although I’m sure I’d make an excellent anchor,” Roman gestured to all of himself for effect, “my true passion lies in my carefully curated romantic advice column!”

“So, you get all the information in town,” continued the stranger, who had a strange glint in their eye.

“I mean, if you want to be a nerd about it.”

“How about this.” The stranger stepped forward, straightening out of their defensive slouch for the explicit purpose of being just tall enough to loom over Roman. “You want to know my name? I’ll tell you, if you help me track down something important that I lost.”

An investigative quest for a mysterious MacGuffin? Roman swallowed, feeling his heart flutter wildly with what felt less like intimidation and more like excitement. He could totally keep his cool, he just had to open his mouth and say something suave.

“I also want to know your origin story,” he opened his mouth and babbled instead.

The stranger narrowed their eyes for a moment, and Roman belatedly remembered the near-strangulation. Perhaps he shouldn't be agitating a femme fatale type, what with all the emphasis on the fatale.

To his surprise, it only took a moment before they capitulated, sticking a hand out. “Fine. After my thing gets done.”

Roman shook gladly, trying not to shiver at the cool touch. Had they checked to make sure the stranger wasn’t hypothermic yet? “It’s a deal, then.”

“Great.” They twisted on their heel, stalking to the door. “Let’s get this over with, already.”

“Hold on there, Surly Temple.” Roman called, hand on his hip. “I hate to break it to you, but if you go into town mostly naked, the only news we’ll be hearing about will be your immediate arrest.”

The stranger glanced down at his attire, and then released the door handle with a low sigh. “... Pants first?”

“Pants first.”

[hobbitsnapes]

the elf in the café chapter 3

A corpse husband story

(I do not own this photo, nor do I know where it originated from. All credit goes to the artist.)

Summary: Never in his life, did he think going to a cafe and meeting a Harry Potter nerd could change his life. (I’m shit at summaries)

A/N: H/N means his name, being that we don’t know what his actual name is currently.

Each day passes by, and neither couldn’t stop texting one another. They’d text at least once a day, whether it be how their day had been, or trying to plan a day to see one another again. Their sleeping schedule was quite similar, but with her waking up early each morning for class. But he’d still get texts from her in the middle of the night, how she managed to do her schoolwork on such little sleep was beyond him.

She chalked it up to having done this for so many years, that she grew used to staying up late at night only to wake early in the morning.

They had finally set a day for the date, the coming Saturday. Nerves wracked him each day it grew closer, but excitement filled him further. He hadn’t felt this excited to have someone over, honestly since David had come by. Since then, he’s had little to nobody come over. Let alone having a date come. Each day that grew closer, the happier he became to seeing her again.

Panic filled him as he scrambled to get the rest of the ingredients ready to throw in the pot. He had decided on trying to make menestra de verduras, a soup he remembered having as a child. He however completely forgot how difficult the dish was to make, when you had never made it and have little to no culinary skills.

A knock was heard at the door, causing him to drop the spoon he had in his hand, splattering sauce all over the floor. “Fuck!” He exclaimed, grabbing his apron and hastily taking it off, wiping away the mess. He ran over to the door, stopping and checking in the mirror to make sure he hadn’t got any on himself. Once he saw there was none, he ran to open the door.

She waited at the door of the apartment, slightly fidgeting with her jacket. She heard a muffled yell,her heart rate increasing.

She waited for about a minute,growing concerned she had red the text wrong and got the wrong apartment.

That was until the door was hastily opened, spotting him in the doorway. He had a smile on his face, his hair slightly pushed back out of his face. Her breath hitched when she saw him, taking notice of his attire. Black pants that were pulled over a dark grey dress shirt, with the sleeves cuffed to about his mid arm. It was a slightly fitted top, showing his toned torso and arms nicely. “Hi.” He chuckled out, sounding slightly out of breath.

He pulled her into a hug,inhaling his smell almost instantly. The smell of pine hitting her nose, making her smile. His warm arms envelope her so comfortably, masking the chill of the night air from her.

They pulled away slightly, arms still around one another. Their faces were close, berry feeling each other’s breathing fan across their faces. They both smiled, growing warmth in the face from the close proximity.

He let her inside, telling her to have a seat on his couch.

He ran back over to the kitchen, ready to chop up a few more of the vegetables. He kept stealing glances at her, his breath catching each time.

He knew from the second he saw her she was beautiful, but tonight, she was breathtaking.

A soft tan floral top was tucked into a black pleated skirt, that hit right above her knee. It sit right at her waist, giving her a very romantic vintage feel. Her legs were covered by flesh colored nylons, black ballet flats covered her feet. Her hair was slightly curled, framing her face perfectly. Her face looked almost bare, but her eyes sparkled as if she had gems in them. Her cheeks were dusted with a soft flush, with the rest of her skin glowing, as if she was being lit with candle light. The only truly noticeable makeup was her lips, painted in a soft, rose red color. Making them look like a freshly budded flower.

Panic sets in him as he rushes to cut the rest of the remaining vegetables, anxiety growing with the sound of the soup boiling. “Fuuckk.” He whispers to himself, seeing the soup burning. He scrambled to shut the burner off, trying his hardest to try and figure out how to salvage the dinner. He should’ve chose something easier, something that he wouldn’t fuck up and ruin the entire night. God why did he even bother trying to-“Hey what’s going on? Everything alright?” She asks, making his heart plummet into his chest. He feels her hand on his shoulder, knowing she can feel him shaking. “Uh-m. Yeah yeah it’s fine, I just kinda burnt the entire thing.” He stammers, giving up on trying to steady his voice. His hands tangle into his hair, pulling the long strands. He wishes he could just disappear, get away from the sheer embarrassment of the situation. “Here let me see.” She says, slightly moving beside him to look at the now ruined soup. Her face slightly falling, dread filling him. She looks up at him, no trace of anger or annoyance in her face. “Here, why don’t I make something tonight? Is that okay?” She asks, her voice smooth and calming. “Uh, sure. I’m so sorry.” “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, now, I have an idea of something I can whip up.” His heart slightly calms down at her words, no longer worrying about ruining the entire night. “Alright, I’m gonna need milk, flour, pees and some kind of fish. Salmon is best for this.” She says, walking over and opening some of the food cupboards. He runs to grab the supplies, knowing he has all of those.

In less than 30 minutes, dinner was plated and ready. He watched her in amazement as she whizzed around the room, effortlessly making the entire dinner like it was second nature. Not once did he see any panic, or rush in her. It’s like she had done this for forever, knowing exactly what to do so easily.

They both sat on the couch, pulling the table closer for them. He let out a small moan at the taste, a smile on his face as he ate. It was shockingly amazing, way better than the disaster he was gonna make for them both. “This is amazing.” He says, causing a smile on her face. “Thanks, it’s an old recipe that I’ve made countless times over the years.” She chuckled, watching as he eats smiling. “Where'd you learn it?” He asks. “It’s a really common recipe in New England, that’s actually where I’m from. I grew up primarily in both New Hampshire and Vermont.” “Wow, so then what made you come to San Diego?” He asks,watching as she let out a small sigh. “School mostly, and to get away from, some people.” He can hear the sadness in her voice, his heart panging slightly.

“That was so amazing, thank you.” He says, watching as she chuckles as she dried the bowls. “You’ve said that like 4 times tonight.” “And I’m gonna keep saying it cause it was amazing.” He laughs, causing her to throw her head back in laughter.

They both settle in on the couch, sitting beside one another. “Uh, I don’t really watch TV, so we’ve really only got my laptop to watch stuff. Is that okay?” He asks, looking over at her. “That’s perfectly fine cause I don’t watch TV either.” She laughs.

“Alright so I’ve got Netflix, Hulu, and prime. What’s something you’d like?” He asks, setting his laptop up in front of them. “Uh, are you into horror movies?” She asks. “I like them.” He chuckles. “Okay so do you wanna watch a classic, hack and slash, paranormal, or psychological?” Age asks, a smile on her face. “Whatever you like, I’m fine with anything you’d want.” He asks, a smirk on his face. He watched as she flushed, smiling at her. “Psychological it is then.”

“That was, what?” He asks, watching as the credits roll. They had gotten closer throughout the movie, no longer with a small bit of space between them like they started. Their legs and sides touched, facing the laptop. His arm later behind her, after a while of toying with the idea and barely moving his arm, he finally built up the courage and placed his hand over her shoulder, letting out a breath when she smiled and scooted closer to him. Letting him put his arm over her. Both of their faces flushed.

“Did you not like it?” She asks, looking up at him. “No i did, it just was kinda weird. What was the name of it again?” “The school. It’s one of my favorites because of how different it is. And you gotta remember, I’m in school to become a Behavioral psychologist. It’s in my nature to like these kinda movies.” “Hm, at least there’s one smart one here.” He chuckles, pulling her in closer. “You’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for.” She chuckles. “Oh yeah, how can you tell?” He asks, looking down at her. She looks at him with her eyebrows raised, a small smirk on her face. “Oh yeah.” He laughs, realization setting in. Causing both of them to laugh.

“So now, do you need a PHD to become a psychologist?” “In the state of California, yes. You also need 3,000 hours of supervised experience, 1,500 which can be pre-doctoral. I started college when I was 17, completing my bachelors when I was 20. Now I’ve only got about 5 more years until I’m finished with my PhD which is another word for a Doctorate.” “Well damn, miss smarty pants. Got everything don’t ya.” He says, making her look at him in question. “Got not only brains but beauty.” He says, making her flush and shove her head into his chest, causing him to laugh as he pulls her in further.

They both sat on the couch with another movie playing, neither one paying any attention to it. They both had opened a bottle of wine he had for some time, deciding to have a glass. He had it for years, always saying he’ll leave it for a special occasion. Well tonight seemed like the perfect night for it.

Neither were drunk or even tipsy, maybe a slight buzz. But it did help to wash away any small ounce of awkwardness between them. He slightly opened up more, cracking jokes with ease and making her laugh so hard she had to use the bathroom 3 times.

“And the movies over. I can’t even remember what it was.” He laughs, watching as the credits finish. “I honestly don’t even think we picked anything. I think we just clicked on it and used it for background noise.” She laughed. “Well then, what do you wanna do?” He asks, arms folded comfortably over himself, the same smirk planted on his face. “Well, there is something I love doing.” She says, a smile on her face.

Both laughed out loudly as they moved around the room, arms around one another as they tried keeping up with the song. They tried keeping in beat with the song playing in the beginning, but giving up halfway through.

He has been leading it for the most part, having loved dancing for years. But not doing it in years, and having a good buzz on him, made his moves a little worse than he remembered. But neither cared as they moved around the room, laughing as they sang along to the song. The song came to an end, both stoping with their movements momentarily. “Wait, I know the perfect one.” He says, running over to the laptop. He types in something, then runs down the hall out of the living room. She wondered if he’s lost his mind and ran off. That is until she hears the beginning of the song, letting out a laugh. “Just take those old records off the shelf!” He sings, sliding across the floor in his socks, making her clutch her stomach in laughter as he recreates the scene perfectly. Using a hairbrush as the makeshift microphone. He breaks after a few lines, falling over laughing. She runs over to him, bending down to see if he’s okay. She can’t help but fall over laughing with him, him pulling her in closer as they both wheeze out laughing on the floor.

“That was, oh my god.” He laughs, barely able to catch his breath from his laughter as they sit down. They danced for another hour, barely able to contain their laughter as tears fell down their faces. “God I haven’t had that much fun in, I can’t even remember.” She laughs, her head resting on his shoulder.

She lets out a small yawn, trying to cover it with her hand. “It’s getting pretty late.” He says, his voice hoarse due to laughter. “Yeah it is, but, there’s something I’ve been waiting for all week.” She says, making him look at her in question. Until he remembers, a smile breaking on his face. “Oh yeah I forgot, you still want me to say batman or snape lines.” He chuckles. She sits up, her eyes wide as she smiles. He can’t help but smile at the excitement on her face. “Alright fine. But you better feel lucky, I’ve had so many people ask me this and I’ve refused for forever.” “Well that’s not the only reason why I’m lucky.” She says, making him flush. “Alright, I’m guessing you want me to say the obvious one.” He says, making her nod her head in excitement. He lets out a small cough, taking in a breath. “I’m Batman.” He says in his most serious voice. Making both throw their heads back in laughter. “That was, that was perfect hun.” She laughs, her face falling in realization when she realized what she said. Her heart plummets to the bottom of her stomach. “Hey it’s okay, I kinda like it.” He chuckles.

“Okay what’s another one you want?” “Hm, how about your best snape you can.” She asks. He coughs again, reading his voice. “Mister Potter.” He says, trying his best to try and emulate the potion Professor. Making her laugh at his struggle to match the accent. “That one was really bad.” He chuckles. “No it wasn’t, tire doing such a good job.” She laughs. “You’ve got the perfect voice for both, although I do prefer your own voice over each of them.” She says, a flush to her face. “Oh yeah?” He asks, changing his voice slightly to have a more flirty tone. He watched as she flushed harder, trying to cover her face in her hands. “So you like when I talk like this?” He asks, the same tone but with a smirk on his face. He chuckles as she completely covers her face in her palms, shaking her head yes. “Then I’ve got one that you’ll really like. Come here.” He says, pulling her into his side. He looks down at her, watching as she removes her face from her hands. He has a smile on his face as he looks at her. “What up baby?” He says, making her slightly squeal out and bury her face in his chest. Making him laugh as she burrows her head into him. Wrapping his arms around her as he shakes from laughter.

“Tonight was amazing, thank you so much.” She says. Both of their arms around one another as they stand at the door.

It was extremely late at night, neither realizing how late it was until they checked the time. Neither wanted to leave, wishing they could stay in the small bubble they created that night. “Are you sure you can drive home? I can call a cab or an Uber-“ “I’m fine hun, it’s been hours and I only had a glass and a half of wine. I’ll make it home safely. Trust me, I’m really careful.” She says, a hand resting on his cheek. He can’t help but smile at her, wishing so bad to pull her back inside and having her stay. “Alright, text me or even call me when you can.” “I’ll call you when I get home okay? Now get some sleep, I can tell this past week it’s a habit of yours not to get much.” “How did you, oh wait I forgot again. Damnit.” He laughs, making her chuckle. “Yeah, can’t fool someone like me.” She teases. “Alright fine, but I’ll be waiting for that call before I even lay down.” He says, making her smile. He pulls her in for another hug, his heart beating out of his chest when he feels her soft lips press a kiss into the side of his jaw.

She pulls away with a smile, watching as his face flushes a deep red with a dumbfounded smile on his face. “Bye hun.” She says, walking away from the door, his eyes watching her until she’s out of sight. His fingers lightly touching the spot from her lips, pulling them back and seeing the small bit of red on his fingers. He runs over to his bathroom, looking in the mirror and seeing the mark of her lips on his jaw, a smile grows on his face.

He sits in his bed with his phone in his hands, checking the time every few seconds. Anxiety builds in him the longer the time goes by, only growing stronger the longer he waits. What if she didn’t make it back? Is she okay? Oh god he should’ve just asked her to stay, what if something hap-his thoughts were interrupted when his phone rings, her contact shining on the screen. Relief fills him as he answers the phone, a large breath leaving him. “Hey I’m sorry it took so long. It usually doesn’t take more than 20 minutes but there was a good amount of traffic in my way.” She says, he can hear her as she exits her car and walk up to her door. He can hear as she unlocks her door, hearing as she walks in. Her flats tap lightly against her hard floor, the sound comforting him. “Hey it’s alright, I’m just glad you made it home safely.” “You don’t have to worry about that, I’m a really, careful driver.” He lays his head down on his pillows, his eyes growing heavy. “Good, thank you for calling me. You really didn’t have to.” “But I wanted to, I knew that you’d be worrying if I made it back home safely.” He chuckles at this. “God you can really read me.” “Well I mean you do let me.” She chuckles, making him smile. “I guess I do.” He says, his voice lowering in volume due to his tiredness. “Why don’t you sleep? I can hear how tired you are.” She says, her voice calming hun further. “Alright, I’ll get some sleep. Thank you again.” “It’s no problem hun, why don’t you call me when you’re up okay? I don’t have classes tomorrow.” “Alright, I’ll call you in the morning, I hope you had a good night tonight.” He says, hearing her chuckle. “I did, have a good night hun, sweet dreams.”

[damn-stark]

Trio~ Ellie & Dina Imagine

Ellie x Fem!reader x Dina

Requested by

A/N- I love this :) anyway I combined them cause they matched up, hope you guys don’t mind!

Warning- fluff!!

———-

What’s the official definition of liking two people at the same time, with equal amounts of passion?

Uhh..probably in everyone else’s mind, weird for one. For you, inside the depths of your confused mind and tangled heart...weird. Not in the sense that liking...loving two people at the same time is weird. It’s just weird in the sense that all the feelings just collided with one another, creating this big twister of confusion and frustration. Not only because it was two people, but because those two people. Dina and Ellie to be exact were also your best friends.

The messed universe was just playing a cruel, cruel joke on you. It’s not like it could be nice and treat you normal and just make you like one person, no, it wanted you to suffer. Suffer already in a damaged, infected filled world. Cruel.

Nonetheless here you were, in Jackson, trying to drown out your mind in the least damaging and best way you could find. Just simply listening to music. Watching people dance and watching Ellie walk in.

Wait.

Oh.

Ellie.

You clear your throat and turn your back to face her, taking in a huge gulp of your drink before setting the cup down. Suddenly feeling beads of sweat form on your forehead on how nervous you got. Did she notice?

“Y/N.”

Quickly you swallow the rest of your drink, the lump feeling rough against your throat at how fast the liquid travels down. “Ellie.” You greet, pretending to be surprised that she was behind you, even if you had seen her and heard her coming your way.

Nice way to act nonchalant.

Not.

You turn around and show her a smile, “hey...Ellie.”

Smooth.

“What are doing here all alone?” Ellie questioned as she swiped a drink from the bar.

You shrug and grab your empty cup, “just enjoying the night.”

A sudden cute and familiar laugh enters the room, your attention getting stolen by the girl your heart was also gushing about, the sight of her perfect sweet smile making you grin to yourself, but being sure not to stay out of focus with Ellie in front of you.

“I just wanted to say,” Ellie continued, scratching the back of her before looking back at her girlfriend Dina.

Was that forgotten to say? That Ellie and Dina were not only your best friends, or your crushes, but they were also dating. That’s like the cherry on top of the perfectly good sundae that you would see on salvageable food magazines; “actually ask, I guess,” Ellie paused, your eyes flickering to Dina who was slowly making her way over, stopping to chat with every person that stopped her; “you know what, I think it’s better to go outside.”

You nod and leave your empty cup on the table before leaving to follow after her, Dina quickly notices and follows after the both of you, her arm wrapping around your shoulder once she reaches your side.

“Hi, y/n.” She greets happily, a trait you admire.

You grin, trying to calm the heat that crept onto your cheeks. “Hey, Dina.” You look down at her growing stomach and can’t help but let out a giggle, “how’s the little guy?”

Ellie laughs as she pushes the door open, a cold breeze instantly hitting your face at the action.

“The little girl,” Dina corrects, “is fine.”

You shake your head and hold her hand that was wrapped around your shoulders, “it’s a boy, I’m telling you.”

“And when it turns out to be a little girl and proves you wrong, I will demand some sort of apology. I’ll think about it, but until the baby can prove you wrong, just be prepared.”

“Ahh, okay, you got it.”

Ellie falls by your other side and wraps her own around you, the gestures and feeling of being in both girls embrace making your heart swell. Truly if life could be just these moments, there will be no need to complain. But alas life was full of ugly infected and other humans that acted as wild as the monsters that roamed the streets.

“So, what was it you wanted to talk about, Ellie?”

Said girl, slightly turns to Dina, both sharing a look before her green eyes turned to you and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Oh, let’s wait until we get to my house.”

You offer a short nod, before walking in silence, the nerves you were now feeling, upsetting your stomach and making all shaky, letting your mind come up with theories.

Does Ellie know the crush you have on her girlfriend? Or does Dina know you have a crush on Ellie? Or, or had they both caught to how weird your heart was and knew you liked them both?

Hell. Could this anticipation be over? Walking felt like walking on hot coals, that was never going to come to stop since the pace you all were walking was incredibly slow. Was this how teenage girls felt before when in proximity of the people they liked?

“So…” Ellie rolled out before throwing herself on the snow covered backyard that was outside her little home, and behind the home Joel Miller once used to live at. “About this thing I wanted to ask...or Dina and I wanted to ask.”

You swallow thickly and help Dina, sit by you on the snow, all of you unbothered by the wet feeling the snow is going to leave.

“I’ve noticed or—”

“I’ll say it.” Dina cut off Ellie, the girl shooting Dina a grateful smile.

“First” You bravely interject, feeling incredibly hot even if the weather outside was freezing, “I want to share that,” you hesitate, fear pulling down your confidence that you had managed to build on your walk here. The figures of the two girl’s you liked made your heart pound in your chest. The same fear wrapping you in a dangerous and stupid bubble of self doubt and insecurity, holding you back from finally confessing feelings that have been wanting to tear away and reveal themselves.

Did you really want to ruin this perfect friendship with your two best friends? What if neither of them liked you, even if the signs were there. The lingering stares and touches, the all nighter conversations you would have. Special and small moments stolen that made them even that more special to you.

What if they didn’t feel them the same way and you were just some weirdo? What if...No! No more hiding.

“I” you begin to stammer, feeling your cheeks burn hotter, “I like you guys, I have for a while,” both girls part their lips and just share a look with one another and let you finish. “Not in the friendship type of way, but in something more than that, I..I love you guys. Not only one, but both. And I know that may sound weird, or stupid but I do and I can’t help contain it anymore, I had to confess before my heart exploded or before.”

“Y/N.” Dina grinned, her hand grabbing yours with an assuring grip, “we love you too. We actually wanted to talk to you about that right now before you interrupted.”

Your eyes widen and you express a soft “oh” looking between Ellie and Dina, before a happy grin spread on your features. “Well I feel relieved now,” you reveal, letting your head rest on Dina’s lap.

“We’ve known for a while,” Ellie confesses with a playful smirk, “you’re not too good and hiding it.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, “well I’m sorry, it’s just hard telling the girls you like how you feel.”

Dina chuckles and caresses your cheek, her other hand cradling Ellie’s cheek as she moved to rest her head on her lap as well. “It doesn't matter, we all know now and I think it’s time we do something about it.”

“Like?” You press with a raised eyebrow.

“Go on a date.” Ellie finishes for her.

“Ok,” you smile warmly, “what will it be? Movies and some warm food? Or a picnic outside of these walls? What does baby J want to do?”

Dina shakes her head, “she likes the idea of a movie. A Christmas movie.”

You chuckle, “sounds nice. I knew he would like that.”

Ellie copies your laugh and Dina responds by standing up and letting you both drop to the snow covered ground. “You guys are not funny.” She turns around and begins to stomp away, Ellie and you both quickly jumping to your feet and following after her. A happy grin on your face that was impossible to wipe off, not only because you were enjoying your time with your girls, but it had finally been time to reveal your feelings, it felt like a weight lifted from your shoulders and you could float into a happy abyss.

Finally after months of hiding, you could act yourself. Finally.

You call out after her. “How much do you want to bet, it's going to be a baby boy?!”

Dina shakes her head and keeps marching away, “not funny. I’ll bet nothing.”

“Just so you know, Ellie and I are going to win this bet.” You smile, “mark my words.”

[rose-demica]

Gif Drabble, A ruined date

So @mariekoukie6661​ sent me an ask with this gif... my new kitten jumped on my keyboard and somehow managed to privately answer it before it was finished. Thanks to my friends at the @fanficocean​, we were able to figure out where it went, and get most of it back. (I also have definitely learnt my lesson, and will be now solely writing on docs outside of tumblr again).

It does mean I lost the original gif, and despite searching for the gif, and having the original poster’s ID, it hasn’t helped me find it. So it’s just a screenshot for now. 

A sigh of relief passes your lips, eyes darting to the clock as your manager bustles in the door, mouthing apologies as you kept helping the seemingly endless line of people. It was 1am, four hours after your shift had been supposed to end. Everyone else from the other supervisor’s team had arrived on time, allowing the rest of your team to leave, but your own relief hadn’t shown up, hadn’t even had the decency to call in and warn the managers in advance. They’d asked you to stay later while they scrambled to find someone to cover the absence… you hadn’t expected it to take four hours. 

You had hoped for a moment to text your date, tell him you’d be delayed, or just cancel. It was a bad look for a third date, but you had no choice, the store couldn’t run without a supervisor, and there was no way you could close up the store, not two days before Christmas. Not when, even at 1 am, the lines for the registers winded back down through the aisles.

It was bad, really bad, to just ghost a man on your third date, but hopefully, he would understand. He had to understand, you really liked this guy. If your co-worker had cost you one of the sweetest guy’s you’d met, you would never forgive her.

“Just give me ten to set up.” You nodded as the manager breezed past you towards checkout control, turning your attention back to the woman who was insisting the sale sign didn’t specify a size. (It did, this was the 73rd time today you’d had this argument over this specific product.)

Those ten minutes dragged by, but finally, finally, you did your hand over and clocked out. Your first stop, once you were off the floor, was to check your phone. There were only five text messages, and two missed calls. Your heart hit your stomach, chest seizing up, did this mean he had given up? He wasn’t as interested in you as you thought. 

A shaky breath escaped your lips as you opened your conversation with him and read your messages. 

2105 

Hey, I’m here early, but don’t feel like you need to rush. There was a mess up with our reservation, so our table won’t be available for a little while. I’m at the garden bar, I can’t wait to see you. 

2147

So I guess you’re running a bit late? Our table just opened up. I’ll order a drink and wait for you there. If you want I can place your order in advance? I know you tend to skip your breaks when it’s busy, and I hate to have you wasting away longer than necessary. 

2215. One missed call.

2216

Are you far off? I’m getting a lot of dirty looks from the staff. Who knew they don’t like people who sit at tables and never order more than a drink?

2308

I gotta be honest here, I really like you, which is why I am praying you aren’t standing me up or ghosting me. It’s also why I’m going back to the garden bar. They’ve shut the kitchen down, but they said I can wait there until they close. I think they feel bad for me, and think I’m stupid for waiting this long... maybe I am...

2357

Well, it’s just me and the bartender left. The last stragglers from the restaurant left about 10 minutes ago, and now the staff have to. I know they won’t tell me to leave, not as a paying customer, however discounted my drinks might be, but I will. They’re allowed to close up early if there are no customers, and I don’t want to be the one keeping them open, not this close to Christmas when everyone is so busy and wants to be with family. So I guess I’ll... to be honest, I don’t know what I plan to do. Maybe I’ll head home, let me know that you’re safe please, even if you are ghosting me. 

0027. One missed call.

Your fingers were automatically typing out a reply as your brain tried to figure out what to say, but as soon as it was typed you deleted it. What could you possibly say to apologise for the fact that you had stood him up, as much as you hadn’t wanted to. He had waited at the bar for you for at least three hours. You didn’t know if you would be able to do the same, endure all those looks from the staff and other patrons. Just sit at the bar, constantly casting glances at the time and trying desperately not to think-

“Goodnight.” You glance up in shock, only to see one of your staff members passing by on their way back onto the floor. You slid your phone into your pocket, step one was getting home, then you could put your feet up and figure out how to apologise for your disaster of a shift, and missing the date without giving any warning. 

~~~

You feel your body relax as you step off the bus, nearly home, it was nearly all over, you were nearly home. You dropped your bag at the bus stop bench, sitting down and peeling off your work shoes, feet screaming after a long day of standing on them in cheap shoes. The snow was nice against your feet, at least, it was for now. The cold bite of the snow numbing the pain receptors. It would give you enough time to get home before it got too cold, or your feet gave out on you.

You were quick to pick up your bag and get moving, there was only so long before your feet would turn to icicles. Your eyes were glued to your phone as you walked the familiar route home, no one would be out at 1.30 in the morning. You barely looked up to type the code that would let you in to your apartment building’s lobby, nor as you approached the stairs, it was only as you made to dodge a person sitting on the bottom one that you looked up. 

Stunning blue eyes met yours, knocking the wind out of you. 

“Sorry beautiful, I just had to make sure that you’re alright. Please don’t think I’m a stalker or anything.” The man spoke, raising his hands. It took you a second more to tear your eyes from his, give yourself the chance to scan his body and recognise the man rising to stand before you. Your date, Clint Barton.

“Wha-” He chuckled at your stunned expression, 

“You never replied, I was worried that maybe someone had kidnapped or ambushed you, figured the least I could do was check-in to make sure everything was all right.” He motioned to the phone in your hand, before tucking his hands into his pockets and shuffling awkwardly. 

“I’m sorry, I was going to reply once I got home, I had no idea what to say to you.” You found your voice, putting your phone away. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might swing by to check on you, no one had ever done that before, it was sweet. 

“No worries, I understand, have a good life Y/N.” He took a few steps away, and you reached out quickly, your hand reaching out in an attempt to wrap around a firm bicep. He could have kept going, easily pulled his arm from yours, but he stopped, turning back towards you. 

“No. No-” It couldn’t all end, not like this. “I meant-” You breathed out heavily, searching for the same words you’d been looking for, ever since you’d read his messages. “Come upstairs? I still haven’t eaten, we can talk over a midnight snack.” His smile took your breath away, nodding slowly, almost as if he was waiting for you to take it back. “Great, my feet are killing me.” You smiled back, turning to eye up the stairs. You were only on the 3rd floor, but you weren’t sure you could convince your feet to carry you up that far. 

‘Allow me.” You turned back to Clint, offering him your bag, but he only shook his head, stepping closer to sweep you off your feet and into the bridal hold. “You’ll have to let me know which floor and room, I’m afraid I only managed to figure out which building was yours.” You wanted to complain, insist you could walk yourself, but you couldn’t deny the sheer relief that you were finally off your feet. 

“Just this once.” You meant to say it in your head, but the words accidentally fell out of your mouth, Clint chuckling at you. “3H.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, tucking your head into his neck. Eyes falling closed, feeling safe in his arms.

“You seem exhausted.” 

“My co-worker never showed, took them four hours to find and get someone in so I could get off. It was so busy I couldn’t even send you a message.” You sighed heavily, “I love Christmas, I really do. But I hate it.” 

“I had hoped it was something like that.” He spoke softly, before pausing, setting your feet back on the ground, one arm staying wrapped around your waist. You turned, looking up at him, arms staying looped around his neck, holding him close to you. 

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I wanted to be there.” He lifted another hand, running it down the side of your face, before cupping your jaw. 

“I waited as long as I could.” He responded, leaning in closer to you. Your eyes flicked down to his soft pink lips, able to think of nothing but how badly you wanted to taste them. 

“I know.” You stretched up, pausing when you could feel his breath roll across your face, waiting for him to close the distance. “Thank you.” You felt more than heard his quiet groan, lips rushing against yours a moment later. You responded tangling one of your hands into his hair and holding him. 

It was your stomach growling that interrupted you, Clint pulling back with a smile. 

“Let’s get you inside and fed, then we can discuss continuing this.” You stretched up, stealing another kiss from his lips, savouring the way they felt moving with yours, before pulling back and searching for your keys, eager to get inside and salvage what you could of your date.

[capricornus-rex]

Huge Faith For A Little Droid

Cal Kestis x Reader with BD-1

BD-1 loving you. He’s basically your child. [source]

Note: This is a rare one for me to write, considering most of my content is heavily between Cal and the Reader. I figured the prompt was adorable and that BD-1 deserves the same amount of love as Cal. It’s kind of a package deal lol 😅 Hope you guys enjoy the fic!

Masterlist

“The next time I’m planning my vacation—it has to be Sullust!”

Your joke got a laugh out of Cal, he doesn’t seem to have a clapback for this one. Through your comlinks, Cere briefed again about the mission: a group of rebel pilots have been stranded there for weeks. She has managed to fish out the confiscated distress signal from the Imperial communications archives. The Empire already established a rig in the planet—similar to what they did to most planets you’ve been to already.

“Any idea what they could be extracting this time?” Cal asked.

“Can’t say for sure. Sullust was a major player in exporting fighter and transport ships, the Empire could be using them to replenish their fleet.”

“Okay, we’ll let you know if we find anything more,”

“You two be careful out there.”

“Always,” you reassured her.

You traversed through the terrain and searched for the Imperial rig. It was a long hike ahead, but it wasn’t easy to miss the gigantic metal towers and heavy-duty equipment plastered on the rock faces. Before getting to the main excavation, there were bases and checkpoints scattered before one could even reach the facility.

With the help of BD-1, he slices the control terminal of the blast doors. You finally managed to quietly infiltrate the first of many bases—in your case, you’ve stepped into a hangar. There were two Stormtroopers standing at the front of the door—but they had their backs turned. Force-pulling each one to yourselves and then piercing your lightsabers through their bodies all in perfect unison, you jumped onto the other unsuspecting troopers.

“Something’s wrong, can you sense it too?” You asked Cal.

“Yeah, we best be prepared for it,”

A sudden buzzing sound made you jump. It was coming from one of the dead Stormtrooper, in his slightly open hand, a comlink was left on. By the time you’ve realized that he’s called reinforcements, they have actually arrived.

More Stormtroopers started flooding through the blast doors—along with two Purge Troopers for good measure.

“Up and above!”

You deflected the blasters of the troopers above you, when they’ve swamped the upper platform, you Force-lifted and hurled some of them off the rails. Cal collected all the enemies around him and lobbed his lightsaber, the weapon sawing down the enemies in a clean, circular sweep. He eventually got too preoccupied with battling the electrohammer Purge Trooper. He didn’t realize that the Purge Trooper has danced into the hallway and practically lured Cal away from you.

Meanwhile, an Imperial security droid has taken advantage on both of your engagements with the other enemies.

Fortunately, BD-1 was able to stop the Imperial security droid from clobbering you on the back of the head, he lightly sprang from his perch on Cal’s back and started short-circuiting the droid. It flailed around at first, clumsily spinning around in the hopes of grappling BD; the Imperial security droid even managed to destroy the blast door terminal in the process—separating you and BD-1 from Cal, who was still engaging the Purge Trooper in the hallway.

“[Y/N]! BD-1!” Cal cried through the sealed blast doors. He had no choice but continue on with the fight.

“NO!” you cried to nothing in particular, but seeing the situation, it’s appropriate that you were referring to both Cal and BD-1.

The Imperial droid finally caught BD-1 before he could actually finish the deed. You turned around after cutting down a Scout Trooper and saw the Imperial droid versus BD-1.

“BD!” you cried.

When you heard BD-1’s metal frame make a crunching noise from the enemy droid’s skinny but powerful grip, you immediately crippled it—severing its legs and then a diagonal cut across its body. It lifelessly fell down to the ground, still having BD-1 in its grip. You knelt down the dead droid and removed its fingers around BD-1.

“BD-1?!”

He gave a weak trill. His lens were cracked, the blue light on his eye was slowly fading, tiny sparks were sputtering out of his circuits and wires—the same wires popped out of the cracks of his legs’ metal plating due to the shattering grip of the security droid. You could only hope that his internal parts weren’t too damaged.

“No… no, no, no…” you gasped erratically.

You gently scooped him up your hands, careful not to let any of his loose parts and limbs fall off. You desperately searched for a workbench. In the spacious hangar, you spotted one across from where you stood. Without a moment’s notice, you sprinted towards it while gently carrying BD.

“Hang on, buddy, I’m going to fix you. I promise!”

“[y/n]? Where are you? Are you all right?” Cal’s voice crackled through your comlink speaker.

You were a stuttering, panicking mess when answering.

“I... I-I’m fine, but BD isn’t. I’m already working on him, I just need spare parts!”

The hangar was all but empty—not counting the bodies of the carnage that ensued minutes ago—until a mechanical beeping made your ears prick up. It was a black astromech droid. You Force-pulled it toward you with great haste, apologizing to it before it could even register what was happening to it. You tore off its metal plating, exposing the wires; digging through its tangled mess of circuits, a few lengths of its wiring seemed to have matched BD-1’s. You carefully tugged it from the roots until you got the full measure of the wires. You gathered whatever you could salvage from the astromech droid and even from the security droid that choked BD-1 to near death.

After collecting what you could from whatever droid on sight—whether working or decommissioned—you put them down on the workbench. There were small but crucial parts left around on the drawers, much to your luck.

“Okay, okay,” you fretted as you tried calming yourself down.

You pulled out your utility belt strewn with tools. This was your first time actually working on BD-1. You’ve seen Cal do it many times over, you only learned from watching afar; fortunately, you’ve had some knowledge in being a mechanic. The soldering iron sparked and sizzled as it welded the wires, carefully weaving the cables that were supposed to go here and there, and for the finishing touch—fitting the new lenses into his sensors. Finally hotwiring him before sealing the metal plating shut, the minute of silence felt like an hour.

Physically, your chest heaved as your heart continue to rise and then sink repeatedly. On the inside, you were fervently praying that the light in his sensors would flicker. It was starting to look bleak, you were losing hope but you were fighting it.

No, you’ll wake! Come on, buddy!

We need you. Cal needs you.

I need you.

So please… wake up, BD-1.

Your knees melt to the ground, your arms doing what little they can to keep you ledged onto the table although your grip was ebbing. Your body limps to the floor, the foot of the workbench supporting your back, a heavy sigh escapes your lungs as you rest the back of your head on the edge of the table.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “I couldn’t do it…”

You hugged your legs to your chest, propped your forehead on your knees, burying your face in shame. The sounds around you were suddenly shut out from your ears. Your hair draped the sides of your face, obscuring you from your surroundings. All you just want to do now is just pass out—a pommel to the head or blacking out from overstressing, either way worked for you.

BD-1 is gone. You failed him. You couldn’t fix him.

“Perhaps I’m not a good mechanic after all,” you miserably groaned to yourself.

Without you knowing, the blue light in BD-1’s lens slowly glowed back to life until it stayed on. He was rebooting: his scanners were still at their optimum performance, the antennas weren’t that damaged, and the internal damage level sank below critical level. BD-1 was getting a feel of his newly-repaired legs. He heard you sobbing at the bottom of the workbench.

He tilts his little head, wondering why you were crying, and he realizes that you attempted to fix him and it worked. He didn’t understand what you were sad about. He excitedly scampered down the table and nudged your legs with his little head. You felt the pressing metal against your calf. Pulling yourself together, you craned your head up and saw BD-1 alive and well.

You blinked a thousand times to prove that it wasn’t just the lights playing tricks. You reached for BD-1, hoping that you will touch the real thing. Your fingers felt his metal plating, the cylinder of his left eye, and his antennas.

“BD-1!!!” you exclaimed, the heaviness in your heart quickly dissolving.

He happily hopped onto your knees, nuzzling you on the head like a puppy and you try your best not to crush him a second time in your hug. Seeing him finally alive, discovering that your attempt worked, just washed away all the hopelessness that overtook you mere minutes ago.

You picked him up and let him perch onto your back.

“Come on, buddy, we have to meet up with Cal. You can rest easy along the way,”

He fondly beeps back and tucked his legs as he grabbed tight onto you. Making your way to the platform where you’ve hurled off Stormtroopers a few feet above the ground, a good Jedi flip and a tight grip afforded you to reach the rail of the platform; taking the direction that leads further into the bowels of the corridors, you relied on the Force in search for Cal. He wasn’t replying back on his comlink. However, you could feel that he was near.

These corridors were a labyrinth. As much as possible, you stalked through the hallways avoiding as much trouble as you can, engaging only when necessary; when you notice that you were about to close in on an intersection, your caution doubled—your hand searched for your hilt hanging on the belt hoop of your pants as you stepped closer while hugging the wall.

When you were about to emerge from the corner, you’ve snapped off your hilt from your belt, your thumb hovered about the switch; you counted to three, took a deep breath and stepped out of hiding behind the wall, instantaneously igniting your saber… at Cal.

Cal appeared before you in the exact same stance as you—with lightsaber at the ready—but when he saw that it was you and BD-1, he immediately switched off his weapon and you did the same.

“BD! Oh thank God, you’re okay,”

BD-1 leapt from your shoulder to Cal’s arms. He cradled the little droid tenderly and examined him; while doing so, his little droid chirped, beeped, and trilled so quickly that Cal couldn’t catch most of what BD was conveying. All he could pick up from what BD told him is that you saved him from an Imperial security droid and salvaged parts to save him. Cal found the changes almost unnoticeable.

“Did she now?”

“I… I did what I could,” you shyly replied.

You feel Cal’s body thump against yours, his arms wrapping the small of your back, and BD-1 doing his best to hug you by nuzzling his head against your cheek while perched onto your shoulder.

“BD said he knew he could always count on you,” Cal whispered in your ear. “The same way I could always count on you.”

Your cheeks flushed and your heart skipped a beat at the same time. BD vouched for Cal’s claim, softly whistling in agreement.

“You’re very welcome, BD-1,” you reached to pat his head.

After the intimate group hug, you nodded at BD-1.

“Let’s find those rebel pilots, bud!”

BD-1 happily obliged, watching his little feet scamper their way through the hallways as he gleefully chirps while leading you and Cal to where the stranded pilots were held captive awaiting for rescue.

[thanksjro]

Eugenesis, Part Six Scene Three: Mirage Tells Optimus To Chill Out

Things are going just swimmingly on Aquaria.  

Remind me why they brought Galvatron along again?

Luckily the Quintessons know how to build an underwater base, and all that nasty, acidic aqua fortis gets drained away and the hole stopped up.

Surprise surprise, nobody’s here; they all got on board the Thermopylae and got the hell out of dodge. Ultra Magnus, because he hates to be wrong, decides that they’ll be searching the base anyway, splitting up into pairs. He will, of course, be going with Galvatron, because he’s the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Babysitters’ Club.

Over on the Ark, Optimus is on the phone.

Whoever they’re trying to find, they better do it quick, because we’re running out of book here.

Optimus hangs up, then immediately tangles with the resident asshole, Mirage, who’s just about had it with the Prime’s doom-and-gloom attitude.

Is this racist? It feels racist. I can’t believe my robot dad is being racist right now.

Mirage starts listing off all the awful shit that’s happened since Optimus kicked the bucket- it’s a lot, by the way- and then says that despite all that nonsense, everyone here is still willing to keep going, and that Optimus should be fucking PROUD of them.

But we can’t delve any deeper into Mirage’s daddy issues, because the Quintesson Tridents have caught up to the Ark. It’s time for evasive maneuvers!

Bluestreak whips the ship around corners, leading the Quintessons on a wild goose chase through the canyons- yeah, we’re back at the Sonic Canyons now, and it’s friggin’ loud as shit- bringing them right where they’re wanted. Everyone jumps out and gets ready for another fight, the Ark flying off again to safety.

Or, well, it tries, anyway.

Well, shit. That wasn’t part of the plan.

Back over with Nightbeat, he’s still processing the conversation he just had with Optimus. After a bit of shellshock, he figures orders are orders, and takes Frenzy over to the wormhole to run some time-travel-shenanigan errands.

Meanwhile, on Aquaria, Ultra Magnus and Galvatron just found his old cell, and his old cellmates. Thunderclash and Longtooth are still stuck together like bubblegum and a wad of hair, so nothing’s changed. Galvatron leaves, but Magnus has the bright idea to try and salvage Thunderclash’s brain. Of course! They’re Transformers, they can just put his brain into a new body and everything will be fine!

Oh no, that’s right the aqua fortis.

Thunderclash, I am so sorry dude.

Meanwhile, back at the wormhole, Nightbeat and the fellas just got back from the past, and things are going even more to shit than they were when they left like a minute and a half ago.  

Also, Thundercracker’s here now.

They load the flyboy onto the shuttle, as Nightbeat reflects on the fact that he’s gotten pretty good at kidnapping folks recently. He probably won’t get very many more chances to try it out though, because now the wormhole’s decided that it’s going to start to shrink.

On Aquaria, it turns out that Haxian stayed behind after all, as Death’s Head tries to shoot him in the face. He manages to jump behind cover, just narrowing missing being stabbed with Death’s Head’s hand-spear. Yeah, he replaced his hand with a spear, don’t worry about it. Siren’s about to lose his mind, because Haxian’s still got the Matrix around his neck, and who knows what’ll happen if it gets stabbed.

Death’s Head doesn’t care though, as he starts shelling out more hand attachments.

Death’s Head, please, this is hardly the time or place.

So, conflict of interests- Siren obviously needs the Matrix intact, but Death’s Head still has that contract with the Hybridians to kill everyone in this base. The continued existence of an entire race, or a fat stack of cash. Death’s Head knows where his bread is buttered.

While he and Siren are verbally duking it out, Haxian takes the opportunity to pull a Prowl/Kup/Doubleheader/Wheelie and kill himself. The two notice the noise, go over to investigate, and find him still and quiet.

Turns out the Quintessons can self-terminate too.

Give it a second.

There it is! Haxian goes off as Siren tries to grab the Matrix from his cold, dead hands. Wait, he’s a scientist Quintesson, so they’re probably tentacles. Anyway, yeah, that happens.

Let’s check in on Optimus and his merry band of freedom fighters.

You hear that?

That’s the sound of the last tiny piece of joy in this godforsaken novel drying up like a single raindrop on the surface of the sun.

Good news though: the Reddies finally showed up. Yay.

Aquaria again. Magnus is really upset that he accidentally melted Thunderclash’s brain, but Galvatron doesn’t give a shit because he’s been shooting at Xenon for the last little bit. Xenon, who didn’t get on the ship, for some reason. Okay, consider me interested in the motivation for this. He’s guarding the vault, where… God is.

Ultra Magnus heard Haxian explode, and assumes that Siren and Death’s Head have been killed. We ain’t seen any bodies, so you know what that means. Suddenly, Galvatron vaults over to the- uh, vault, seeing as Xenon’s now entered it completely. Magnus follows, and they find themselves faced with horrors.

Hundreds upon hundreds of podded-up robots, all of them smiling alongside Xenon. They’re familiar faces, all of them.  

Okay, so Xenon’s built a bunch of our old pals. Why? What purpose does this serve?  

Oh no, we’re going to address the Cybertronian creation myth discrepancies, aren’t we?

Allow me to explain, for a moment, the hell that is Transformers as a franchise. When you have something go on for- at the time of Eugenesis’ writing and publication- 17 years, with multiple continuities and takes, in multiple countries, things tend to get a bit muddled. It’s only gotten worse as time’s gone on, but if I’m correct this novel was written around the time that they were still trying to pull off the Unicron singularity thing- where all instances of Unicron were actually the same instance of Unicron, traveling throughout the multiverse to eat every Cybertron ever, thus binding every take on the franchise to each other. The Unicron singularity is, of course, a giant mess that should have never been established, but it exists, and some of the fanfic writers are still trying to clean it up to this day. If Roberts’ is about to attempt what I think he is, we’re in for some grade-A bullshit.

But we won’t be getting to that just yet, because it’s time to jump scenes again.

Quantax just noticed all the Reddies having joined the fight, and is mildly disturbed by how single-mindedly they kill his forces.

I miss Rewind.

[nebulous-frog]

Anxious

Summary: It can be hard to identify anxiety sometimes, which makes it harder to deal with. Sometimes, Phil needs a little help to pull himself out of it.

Word Count: 1930

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Some Angst, Some Fluff

Warnings: Descriptions of anxiety, some swearing

Author’s Note: This is based off some of my own experiences with anxiety, but this is not the only way it presents itself. This is not to say that Phil does have anxiety or to try to assume his experiences if he does, it’s just fiction.

Link to AO3 Fics Masterlist

The media portrays anxiety as shaking, panting, and chaos. It’s associated with violence; it’s an “anxiety attack” for a reason. People think it only manifests itself with that clear terror. For Phil, it’s not always so obvious.

He doesn’t always know when it will happen. Some days, he wakes up with an itch in the back of his mind that he has to do something and he has to do it now now now and it grows and builds into something worse, but it sneaks up on him more often than not. Sometimes, there’s such a subtle build-up that he doesn’t even realize it’s happening until Dan intervenes.

Today is one of those days. He’s been under stress lately, worrying about putting out content fast enough while still having time for himself and Dan. It’s not an uncommon place for him to be, so he thinks it’s fine. He’s handled it in the past when he’s been even more stressed with tours and travel, so why should now be any different?

He’s been working diligently on a video and he’s almost done editing, so he plans to post over the weekend. He even tells his audience to expect the video in the next two days because he’s that confident that everything will go well between now and then.

As per usual, Phil watches through his video when he thinks he’s done editing, just to be sure. Normally, there’s nothing more to be done and he’s ready to post, but there’s one part of this particular video that seems off. It’s stupid, really; no one will care if there’s one second too long before a jumpcut, but Phil goes back through and cuts off a bit more from the take. He watches it again and frowns because now it’s too short. With the push of a few buttons, it’s back to how it was, but it’s still too long. Phil sighs in annoyance, picking up one of the toggles on his sweatshirt and biting it, but tries to fix the video again. He adjusts the cut back and forth, shorter and longer, but his dissatisfaction grows with every attempt.

He finally decides to let it go for now and see if the rest of the video is fine. If there are other issues, he can fix those and then go back with fresh eyes. He starts from the beginning and works his way through. Phil’s frown turns into a glare and his leg begins to bounce under the desk as his annoyance turns to agitation. The rest of the video is okay. Only okay. Actually, the longer he watches, the less okay it seems. He picks out bits from the editing that he thinks are sloppy, but then he analyzes his delivery of the script he’d written and the way he’d filmed and he thinks the whole video is pretty bad. His voice is too chipper, the colors are too bright, his timing is all wrong. From there, he considers the script itself. For the life of him, he can’t imagine why he thought it was good when he went to film it. Why did this video even exist in the first place? Who did he think would want to watch it?

He takes off his headphones and tosses them on the desk in disgust, burying his face in his hands. His video is dull and boring; he is dull and boring. He’d just promised his audience a new video, but there’s no way he can post this mess! They’d hate it, and then everyone would unsubscribe, and then he and Dan would be homeless nobodies, especially if Dan continued his social media break.

Phil shakes his head. What is he thinking? His audience isn’t like that! They love anything he puts out, don’t they? He isn’t sure anymore.

“How’s the video going, love?” asks a quiet voice from the office door.

Phil jumps, removing his hands from his face; he hadn’t heard Dan approach. He shoots Dan a weak smile, spitting the sweatshirt toggle out from between his teeth.

“It’s fine,” he lies. It’s not fine at all. It’s probably the worst video he’s made in years, a disaster waiting to upload. He should take it as a sign that he’s burning out; he’s been doing this for over ten years, he’s run out of good ideas, and that’s not to mention the pace he’s set for himself after so long with no schedule. He can’t do it, and this video is the evidence. It’s just bad, and that’s completely unacceptable.

But Dan doesn’t need to hear any of that. He has enough on his mind without Phil pulling him down any further, and, besides, these complaints are meaningless, unimportant. He can handle them just fine on his own. No need to drag someone else into it.

He watches as Dan takes in the bouncing leg, the chewed toggle, the empty coffee mugs, the video still playing on the screen, and knows there’s no way Dan believes him.

But Dan doesn’t call him out on it. Instead, he tilts his head down to look at the floor, his lips stretch into a sad smile, and he steps closer to Phil. One hand reaches up to cup the side of Phil’s face and his thumb gently strokes the bone.

“You’ve been in here a while,” he comments. “Take a break with me?”

Phil bites his lip, glancing back at the editing software open on his computer. He really ought to fix that jumpcut. Even if the rest of the video is bad, at least he can say that one part is fine and then he can upload it and keep pretending his channel is surviving.

“I don’t know, there’s just a little more to do. I’m almost done. There’s one cut that’s weird and I want to fix it,” Phil says in a rush. “It’s not really cooperating right now, though. I make it shorter and it’s too short and then I try to make it longer and it’s back to being too long, and then I go back short and-”

“That’s okay,” Dan interrupts in a calm whisper. “Do you want me to help?”

Phil hesitates, biting his lip again. Bringing Dan into it is a good idea because Dan is always a good second opinion with editing, but he worries that Dan won’t see the problem. Or maybe Dan will see the larger problem that is the video as a whole and tell Phil it’s all terrible. He already knows it’s terrible, but hearing it from Dan would make it all worse. Then this problem would be real and he’d have to deal with it, and that would include Dan’s disappointment, and he hates to disappoint Dan, he really-

“Phil?”

Dan sounds more concerned this time, so Phil turns to look at him. His forehead is creased with worry. His thumb reaches down to Phil’s lip, gently pulling it out from between his teeth.

“Ouch,” Phil mumbles. He raises a hand to his lip and it comes away red. “Shit.”

Dan reaches over and saves the video file then closes out of the program.

“But-” Phil reaches out to stop Dan, but it’s too late.

“It’ll be there for you later. It’s okay,” Dan reassures. He catches Phil’s hand in his own. “Come on. Let’s take care of your lip.”

Phil lets out a resigned sigh and lets Dan pull him out of his chair.

“I’ll come right back and finish it after, then,” he decides.

Dan sends him a small smile. “Let’s start by getting your lip cleaned up, yeah?”

He leads Phil over to the bathroom so they can see it better, then tears off some of the toilet roll.

“This’ll be kind of gross, sorry,” Dan says, pressing the tissue to the inside of Phil’s lip. He carefully dabs at the blood, keeping as much of it from getting into Phil’s mouth as possible. A few minutes later, he’s done, throwing away the tissue and washing his hands. He turns back to Phil and cups his face with both hands. “Is that better?”

Phil shrugs. His mind is already back on the video, trying to figure out how he could possibly salvage the mess he’d filmed so he could still post tomorrow.

Dan leans forward and presses the softest of kisses to Phil’s lips. “It’s okay, love.” He pushes his hand farther to brush through the hair on the back of Phil’s neck, then kisses him again, a little firmer this time. He pulls away and kisses Phil’s cheek, pulling Phil’s head in to rest in the crook of his neck before kissing his temple. “It’s alright.”

The tension doesn’t immediately leave Phil’s body, but he lets himself be kissed and hugged, eventually wrapping his arms around Dan’s waist and burying his nose more fully in his neck. He inhales deeply, finding reassurance in the familiar scent of his boyfriend. His emotions are stuck in stress and worry too much for him to truly appreciate Dan’s care, but he knows he’ll be grateful later, once his mind stops holding him captive.

They stay in the hug for a while longer before Dan pulls back slightly.

“Cuddles in bed, under the nice warm duvet?” he suggests.

Phil nods, so Dan pulls back all the way. He catches Phil’s hand with his own and brings it to his lips.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

Phil doesn’t feel like speaking. He’s still too keyed up, too stressed, and it’s exhausting. Dan knows Phil loves him, anyway. Instead of using words, he settles for leaning in to kiss Dan’s cheek.

Together, they head over to their room. Once inside, Dan gently kisses Phil again, sending little tingles of warmth through his system. A little of the tension leaves his shoulders and he finds he can breathe easier. It’s not enough to fully relax him, but it’s a step in the right direction.

They pull apart briefly to strip down to their boxers and climb into bed, where they immediately wrap their arms around each other. Phil lies half on top of Dan, his head resting on his chest and their legs tangled together. Dan brings a hand up to pet through Phil’s hair, occasionally leaning forward to press a kiss to his temple.

Sleep, or maybe Dan, beckons Phil, convincing him that it’s alright, the audience will still be there tomorrow. Rest now. Now that he’s being held by a warm Dan in a soft bed, he finds himself finally relaxing. The stress and worry of before is melting away, leaving behind an exhaustion that can only come from anxiety.

He can name it now; earlier, he hadn’t even noticed what was happening. But now he sees the signs that led to the worst of it, he sees how it switched from a general form of stress into the anxiety that fixated tight on one problem and tried to expand it to more problems that weren’t really there. Now, he can recognize and appreciate Dan’s care and fall in love with Dan just a little bit more.

Tomorrow, Phil will look at the video again, this time with Dan. Dan will maybe offer a few tips here or there, but overall tell him it’s wonderful, as always. He won’t tell Phil he was ridiculous for being so anxious about it, because he knows Phil can’t help it; instead, he’ll offer quiet encouragements as Phil puts on the finishing touches and uploads it and reward him with more cuddles and kisses.

[dracosollicitus]

Ah! Thank you for the last one! Here’s another ;) Damerey #55!

#55: “Just shut up and kiss me already!” 

@thiscompletemess-blog

Poe had found himself locked in a utility closet…

With the last Jedi. Who was currently steaming mad at him.

“C’mon, Dameron, you could at least act like the very idea doesn’t repulse you.” In the dim emergency lighting, he could see her perched on a crate that used to house koyo melons. He tried to focus on that little detail, and not the way her foot was swinging back and forth like the tail of an angry Loth-cat, or the way her hair was out of its usual three-bun style, cascading in chestnut waves around her slender shoulders. Distract yourself, Dameron, don’t think about - that thing you don’t think about.

“I didn’t say the idea was repulsive,” Poe protested. Rey snorted and kicked her foot against the crate with a resounding, irritated thwack. Her arms crossed in front of her chest, and Poe heaved a sigh, tapping his chronometer to check the time.

“There’s four and a half minutes left,” Rey snapped. “In case you were considering chewing your leg off to get away from me.” Gods, she was right. They did have four and a half minutes left - four minutes, 36 seconds, to be exact. He could do this. 

He didn’t know whose bright idea it was to play Seven Minutes in A’philiar, but he was going to make them pay (It was probably Jess. Jess always suggested Seven Minutes in A’philiar). And he’d be checking those dice, too. Poe was eight-five percent certain they were loaded. 

“Some party,” Rey muttered, resting her head against the durasteel hull behind her. “Are they all this disappointing?”

“This was your first party?” Poe asked before wincing. Gods, he was ruining her first party. No one wanted to be trapped in a closet with a man twelve years older than them, while their friends chanted kiss kiss kiss KISS KISS outside the door, at their first party.

“Not really a room for a lot of revelry on Jakku,” Rey commented dryly, pretending to examine her nails. “Shocking, I know.” 

“Ah.” Four minutes left. He could do this. 

Rey sniffed. He turned away from the door which he’d been staring at impatiently and looked at Rey through the low light. Was she allergic to something?

She sniffed again.

Oh Kriff. She was crying. All his disaster-aversion training, and he had absolutely nothing for “beautiful and unattainable woman starts crying after being locked in closet with you during bizarre and honestly problematic party game.”

“Rey,” Poe fought back sweetheart. “Are you okay?”

She wiped her eyes and turned away from him slightly. “No.”

“No?” Poe started forward before catching himself. They had limited personal space in here - honestly, probably conducive to Seven Minutes in A’philiar - and he didn’t want to infringe on hers. “Do you want me to get them to open the door? Because even if we’re off hours, they technically have to obey any formal order I give them as their commander.”

“No.” Rey shook her head and continued to stare at the back of the closet like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. “That’s not what I want.”

“What do you want, then?” Poe asked, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I want you to tell me why the idea of kissing me makes you so aggravated.”

Uh. “I’m not aggravated.”

Rey snorted. “Yeah right, your entire Force signature is aggravated. It’s all - spiky.” Good to know. Poe mentally made a reminder to never lie to Rey; built in detector. “So, why? Don’t trust the desert rat? Embarrassed that anyone might think you kissed her?”

What? That’s - “Rey, I don’t think about you like that,” Poe said, aghast. “You aren’t a desert rat, please don’t think that way about yourself. And - and of course I wouldn’t be embarrassed, I’d be–” Elated. Over the moons. Ecstatic. Thrilled.

“You’d be what?” Rey hopped down from her crate and walked over to him, stopping about a foot away. “Horrified? Disgusted?”

“No.” Poe dragged his fingers through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the universe to wake him up from this nightmare. He opened his eyes. Still in the closet. With Rey. Who, upon closer inspection, looked hurt. Gods, he kriffed this up. “No, Rey, that’s not why I’m upset.”

“Why are you upset then?” 

Two and a half minutes left.

“Because.” Poe dragged his hands through his hair again, curls beyond salvageable now. Rey watched his movement; her eyes took a moment to resettle on his face. Her pretty, hazel eyes. He wished it were lighter in here, so he could see them better. Sighing, he let it out. “For months, Rey, all I’ve wanted to do is kiss you.” 

She stiffened in surprise, and he saw her mouth pop open. Gods, that was cute. Distracting, not helpful, but cute. 

“I’ve wanted to pull you aside and kiss you every kriffing day - in the hangar, in the mess, in the rec. It’s getting worse. Do you know how hard it was not to drag you out of your X-Wing last week after you barely got out of that dogfight? I wanted to kiss you right then and there, in front of the entire Resistance, just grab you and press you up against your ship and kiss you until you couldn’t think straight, kiss you until you agreed to never pull a stupid stunt like that again.”

Rey was uncharacteristically speechless, so he plowed forward. “And of course my crew knows. They know I’m wild about you - but unlike me, they won’t admit how inappropriate it is - and they probably arranged this, loaded the dice, so you’d be stuck in here with me, so I’m sorry. I’m so kriffing sorry that you got roped into their nonsense. Because this is your first party, and you should be spending it out there, with people your own age, people who aren’t 32 year old pilots with a bad temper and a lot of baggage and no chance in the nine hells to ever deserve you. So yeah, please don’t think that I don’t want to kiss you. Because I do. I really kriffing do, but I also know how not-okay it is to kiss you in a closet, where you’d feel forced or obligated to because of some stupid party game and-”

“Poe,” Rey cut in finally. “Gods, Poe. Finn loaded the dice.”

“What?” Poe blinked in surprise. 

“Finn knows that I’ve had a crush on you since,” She blew air out of her pert mouth, nose wrinkled in consideration. “Crait? That sounds about right. So he said he would ‘take care of it,’ and I begged him not to, but here we are. Of course I want you to kiss me. Nothing you’ve said or have apparently worried about changes that.”

His chronometer beeped.

“We have a minute left,” Poe said, checking the time. He lifted his eyes to Rey’s face, and startled when he noticed how much closer she was. 

“Then you better just shut up and kiss me already, flyboy,” Rey said, her hand pulling at the front of his jacket. He grinned at her and wrapped his arms around her small waist, tugging her close up to his body. Their lips found each other in the dark, and Poe’s eyes drifted shut in pleasure as he felt her mouth, warm and soft against his own, so much better than his dreams of this. One of her hands tangled in the back of his hair, the other remained in his shirt, holding him close (not that he needed any help).

They took a second to breathe before diving back in, their noses bumping against each other - “Sorry, sorry,” Poe laughed, “Big nose, I know,” to which Rey murmured, “That’s my favorite nose you’re talking trash about,” and okay, yeah, Poe was utterly karked - before he tilted his head to the side for the perfect angle to gently nip at Rey’s bottom lip. She opened her mouth with a sigh, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in, just enough to run along the sensitive inside of her lip. She shivered, he smirked - but then, she did the exact same thing to him, which caused him to moan obscenely, his hips jerking forward of their own accord. He mumbled another apology, which she swatted away.

He stumbled backward until his back hit the door, more than a little guided by Rey’s insistent hands, and she broke the kiss to dot kisses along his jaw. Her clever, hot mouth had just found the spot under his ear that would officially make him lose his mind when -

Bang bang bang.

“You decent?” Finn hollered through the door. “Time’s up.”

“Go away!” Poe shouted, leaning in to capture Rey’s smiling lips one more time, quickly. “Seven more minutes, Finn.”

“Not my fault you wasted five of them talking!” He said gleefully. Poe grumbled but refused to lift his hands from Rey’s waist, holding her tighter, possessively. He just got her, he wasn’t about to let go, not -

“Poe,” Rey whispered. “Poe, we can just - leave the party and go to your room. We don’t have to stay here. We’re…adults.”

“Oh, shit!” Poe blinked at her and then kissed her cheek quickly. “Thank the gods you’re smarter than me.” Clasping her hand in his, he pushed off from the wall and threw the door open. 

Cheers from Black Squadron, Finn, and Rose, filled the room, and Poe flicked each and every one of them off as he tugged Rey towards the door.

“Leaving so soon, Commander?” Snap teased, his arm slung around his wife’s shoulders, a cup of hull stripper in his hand.

“Yep,” Poe wrapped his arm around Rey’s waist while keying open the door. She was giggling, her cheeks pink with pleasure and/or embarrassment, and she buried her face half-heartedly in Poe’s shoulder; he couldn’t resist, kissed the top of her head, and nuzzled his nose into her hair, which caused a collective “awww” from their audience. The doors hissed open, and Poe led Rey out. 

“Morning drill is cancelled!” He thought to shout behind him before the doors closed, the coos of their friends becoming a cheer.

“Generous,” Rey said, as they walked quickly down the hall to his room. “Do you intend to have a late night?”

“I’m not going to stop kissing you until the suns come up,” Poe admitted. He looked over at Rey, pleased to see that her blush matched the one he felt on his face. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“More than,” Rey said cheerfully before breaking into a jog. “Race you there, Commander.” He shouted with laughter and chased Rey down the corridor to his room.

She won.

[searchingwardrobes]

Tortures of Hell, With Lower Prices

With everyone heading back to school, I thought I would bring back this ridiculous thing I wrote about CS back to school shopping at Walmart. I wrote this ages ago, long before Hope and the combining of the realms, so this isn’t canon compliant at all. If that’s going to bother you, then just skip this. I don’t hate Hope, chill people. Also can be read on Ao3

It should have been a simple errand. Run into Dark Star Pharmacy on the way home from Granny’s, school supply list in hand. Emma should have known that nothing could be simple where Killian was concerned.

“Five dollars for a bloody notebook!” Killian practically roared. “This is practically robbery, Swan! And I should know, I’m a pirate.”

“But, Daddy!” Evan, their seven year old argued. “It has Star Wars on the front!”

“It ought to be engraved with gold for that price,” Killian grumbled.

“Honey,” Emma argued gently, placing a hand on his arm, “We’ve bought school supplies here for the past four years. And every year, you complain.” Which shouldn’t have surprised her. All prices in this realm were outrageous to her 300 year old pirate.

“Well someone has to! They’re cheating the citizens of our town. Doesn’t Regina care about this?”

Emma refrained from rolling her eyes. “It’s the only place in town that carries school supplies, Killian. They can basically charge whatever they want.”

“Well, they aren’t taking advantage of this pirate anymore, I can tell you that.” Killian snatched the notebook from Evan’s hand and put it back on the shelf, despite the seven year old’s protests. He had five year old Briar Rose hand over the Hello Kitty folder and the sparkly pink pencil case.

“But Daddy!” the little girl pouted. Emma knew Killian was serious when his little girl’s trembling lower lip didn’t sway him.

“If the game is rigged in Storybrooke, we’ll simply go elsewhere, love.”

Emma should have insisted they buy the school supplies at Dark Star; it was Friday night, and school started on Monday. But after being married to Killian for the past nine years, Emma had learned that when he set his mind to something, he was all in. And when Killian Jones was all in, he delivered.

After putting the children down for the night, Emma crawled into their king size bed where Killian was sitting up with Emma’s laptop (which he still referred to as “the magic box”). “Did you know, Emma, that this is tax-free weekend? There’s no sales tax on back to school items through midnight Sunday.”

Emma chuckled as she curled herself into Killian’s side. “There’s never any tax in Storybrooke.”

Killian’s tongue stuck out of his mouth and his eye’s narrowed as he continued clicking. “I know that Swan, but there’s sales tax everywhere else. So this is the best time to shop outside town.” A grin suddenly spread across his face. “A-ha!”

Emma leaned over to look at the screen. “No, Killian, please no! Not there!”

Killian wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Why ever not, Swan? They have the lowest prices, do they not?” Emma groaned as she pulled the covers over her head. Her voice came muffled through the fabric. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, Jones.”

Killian chuckled. “Now who’s being overdramatic? How bad can it be? Tomorrow morning, we’ll all head there. It will be a nice family outing.”

Emma pulled the blanket away and stared at Killian incredulously. “You want to take the kids?”

He shrugged one shoulder at her. “Why not?”

Emma opened her mouth, then closed it. At first, she wanted to flat out say no. But then a mischievous grin spread across her face. It should have given Killian pause, but it didn’t.

“Sure, sweetheart. We’ll all go to Wal-Mart.”

***********************************************

The closest town with a Wal-mart wasn’t all that far from Storybrooke. It was only a 20 minute drive. Despite that, the kids still begged to set the DVD players up in the mini-van. Yes, Captain Hook had a mini-van. They had made do with the bug until child number three came along. Two car seats would barely fit in the bug; three were impossible. To Emma’s shock, Killian had actually been the one to choose the van. Black, of course.

“You know the rule,” Emma reminded the kids. “DVDs are only for long trips – an hour or more.” The kids grumbled and complained until Emma reminded them that they had to behave if they wanted to look at the toys or get a free cookie from the bakery. Emma drove while Killian messed with his phone.

“Have you heard of this app, Emma?” he asked her, waving the device. She shook her head and grinned. He always sounded like a kid with a new toy when he discovered the wonders of modern technology. “You scan your receipt, it searches other stores, and if anyone else has a lower price, they give you the money back!”

When they pulled into the parking lot, Emma groaned. “This place is packed! We’ll have to park a mile away from the store!”

Killian’s jaw dropped. “I’ve never seen a parking lot so huge!”

The kids all began talking at once as Emma pulled into a space. If her husband and kids were this excited about Wal-mart, they really needed to start getting out of Storybrooke more often. They all piled out of the mini-van. “Six, guys,” Emma told them. “Remember the number six. That’s the aisle we parked on.”

The five of them walked through the front doors of the massive store and headed to the rows of shopping carts. Killian tugged one loose, then turned to the kids. He turned frantic eyes to Emma. “Where’s Evan?”

“Seriously?” asked Emma, scanning the store. “We lost one already?”

Killian pointed half way across the store. “There! See him?”

Emma let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. “Evan!” she called. “Get back over here!”

“But the sign says bakery,” Evan said, pointing at the neon sign. “You said we could get a cookie.”

“As a reward when we’re done,” Emma sighed. “Get back over here, and don’t wander away from us like that again.”

Evan grumbled and dragged his feet, but obeyed. Emma then turned to hoist three year old Ian into the seat at the front of the shopping cart. Ian shook his head vehemently. “I wanna walk!”

Emma took a deep breath and counted to three. They weren’t even all the way into the store yet! Why the hell had she agreed to this? “You’re too little to walk, honey. It’s a big store.”

Ian crossed his little arms and stuck out his lower lip. “Evan and Briar Rose get to walk. I a’ways too wittle!”

“Come on, Swan,” Killian argued, giving her his best puppy dog look. “Let him walk.”

Killian always caved when Ian complained about being little. Something about Liam always calling him “little brother.” Emma sighed in exasperation. “Fine! But if he takes off, you’re chasing after him!”

Killian took Ian’s hand and smiled down at him. Briar Rose jumped up to hang off the side of the cart like she always did at Storybrooke market. But since Ian wasn’t in the front seat, the cart began to tip. Emma and Killian grabbed it before it fell over on top of her. In her fear, Emma shouted at Briar Rose to watch what she was doing. It was the wrong thing to do. Their middle child was extremely sensitive and tender-hearted. Her lip immediately began to tremble and her green eyes filled up with giant crocodile tears. Before the wailing could begin, Killian scooped her up and began whispering in her ear. A tremulous smile crept across her face. Killian tickled her, and all was well. Another crisis averted.

“Shall we?” Killian asked her gallantly with a cocky grin. Emma narrowed her eyes at him, squeezing the handle of the shopping cart until her knuckles turned white. She would see that grin wiped off his face if it was the last thing she did in this stupid store.

They headed to the school supply section, which was pretty simple to find. All you had to do was follow the sounds of scolding parents, whining children, and general pandemonium. Killian muttered, “Bloody hell!” under his breath, and Emma couldn’t help tossing him her own cocky grin. “Why are Ziploc bags and Kleenex in the school supply section, Swan?”

“I asked my wife the same question,” complained a man to Killian’s left. “We didn’t have to buy all this crap when I was in school. Do you know what expo markers are?”

“Haven’t a clue.”

“Yeah,” the man muttered as he shouldered past a woman who was arguing with her twelve year old about a back pack, “neither do I.”

Out of curiosity, Killian grabbed one of the school supply lists from the nearby yellow display. He whistled under his breath at the list and was suddenly thankful for tiny Storybrooke Public School, K-12. Killian was suddenly shoved from behind, sending him tumbling into Emma, which caused the shopping cart she was maneuvering to crash into a plump woman in front of her.

“I am SO sorry!” Emma apologized.

The woman scoffed. “Well watch it next time, lady!”

Emma turned the cart (a difficult task, since one wheel wobbled ineffectually, not even touching the ground) down the paper aisle. Killian shifted Briar Rose to his other arm so he could pull the supply list out of his back pocket with his good hand.

“Spiral bound notebook; color of choice,” he read off for Emma.

“Which kid?”

Killian shuffled the two papers. “Um . . . both.”

Briar Rose scrambled down out of Killian’s arms, darting off between people and carts. Killian nervously kept his eyes trained on her dark bob with the giant pink bow. It had killed him and Emma at first to see her hair chopped off, but he had to admit the bob was adorable on Briar Rose and made her look uncannily like her grandmother. It was all the hairdresser could do to salvage Evan’s handiwork. They were acting out the end of Tangled, he had explained.

“I want this one, Mommy!” Briar Rose exclaimed, weaving through the mass of people. She held up her notebook of choice. “It’s Belle! And she’s reading a book in the library, just like in Storybrooke!”

Emma hurriedly tossed the notebook into the cart, glancing around nervously. But no one was paying a bit of attention to their daughter. Briar Rose scrambled into the cart, admiring the cover of her brand new notebook.

“Ok, Evan,” Emma asked. “What about you?” “I wanted Star Wars,” Evan whined. Emma and Killian bobbed and weaved amongst all the people, searching in vain for a Star Wars notebook. People behind them started grumbling for them to move along.

Emma straightened, pushing her hair out of her face in frustration. “Just pick something else, honey, ok?” She held up two notebooks. “Captain America or Ninja Turtles?”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Captain America.” Killian had a sudden urge to back-hand the boy. You would have thought Emma had handed him cow dung.

“I want one, too!” Ian begged, jumping up and down.

“Sure, little man,” Killian agree. “Which one would you like?”

Ian grabbed a notebook identical to his older brother’s and hugged it to his chest. Evan groaned, “That’s the one I picked! He’s always copying me!”

Emma rolled her eyes. The combined eye rolls of the Jones family was probably going to set some kind of record. Emma grabbed two other notebooks.

“What about this one Ian? It has cars on it? Or dinosaurs?”

Ian shook his head, clutching the notebook tighter. “Uh-uh. I want Cap’n ‘Merica.”

Emma glanced around the shelves. “What about this one? It has Captain America, too.”

Ian stomped both legs and scrunched his face up until it turned red. “Not Iron Man! Just Cap’n ‘Merica!”

Emma began rubbing her temple. She was definitely getting a headache. “What about this?” Killian asked behind her. “It’s Captain America’s shield.” Emma held Killian’s gaze, both of them holding their breath as the toddler contemplated the choice.

“kay,” Ian finally agreed, grabbing the notebook and tossing it into the cart. Emma and Killian both let out a relieved breath.

“Killian!” Emma cried out, giving his shoulder a shove. “Quick, 2nd-3rd grade lined paper! Behind you; there’s only one pack left!”

Killian whirled around, frantically scanning the shelves. There! He grabbed for it, but just as he did, so did another hand with long, sharp red fingernails. He looked up into the determined eyes of a frazzled mother. Killian sighed. Good form and all of that. He relinquished the paper.

Emma’s frustrated voice came from over his shoulder. “Killian!”

Just then, his salvation came in the form of a blue vest with a name tag that read “Brittany.” The crowd in the aisle seemed to magically part before her. She ripped open a cardboard box, setting out several new tablets of 2nd-3rd grade lined paper. Out of nowhere, dozens of other shoppers descended on them like locusts. Killian found himself in a struggle for the coveted paper, but finally, finally, he had some in his hands! “Pre-k/1st grade paper too, Killian!” Emma shouted behind him. After a brief struggle, he pushed himself out of the throng, paper in hand.

“My hero!” Emma teased, giving him a peck on the cheek.

Killian pulled the supply lists out of his pocket once again and groaned as he looked it over. At least it didn’t include the elusive expo markers, but they still had a long way to go.

“Okay, kids!” Emma said brightly. “On to the pencil aisle!”

Evan flung himself onto the floor, right there in the middle of the aisle. Killian looked around in a panic, expecting his son to be run over at any moment. “I want my cookie NOW!” he whined in the most annoying way imaginable.

“Get. Up.” Killian hissed between gritted teeth.

“Not only does he look just like you,” Emma quipped, “he inherited your flair for the dramatic.”

Killian glared at Emma, then nudged his oldest son with the toe of his boot. “Get off your arse, son. You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”

Evan groaned and did as his father asked. To Killian’s right, an older woman huffed and narrowed her eyes at Killian. “Well I never in all my days heard a father talk that way to a child,” she complained to her husband, loud enough for everyone around her to hear.

Emma grabbed Killian by the arm just as he opened his mouth to speak. “Don’t, Killian,” Emma said sternly as her husband clenched his jaw. “It isn’t worth it. Judging parents at Wal-mart is almost a national past time. Let it go.”

Killian sighed and rubbed his forehead. Now he was getting a head ache. Emma decided to have pity on him. Rubbing his arm she asked, “Why don’t I finish the list on my own? You can take the kids over to look at the toys.”

The kids all perked up at that. “Toys!” they all cried in unison. Briar Rose scrambled out of the cart, tossing her Princess Belle notebook heedlessly to the bottom. Killian grinned down at Emma. “I love you.”

She smirked back. “I know.”

Killian handed Emma the school supply list, Ian yanking impatiently on his arm. When he turned around, the older two had almost sprinted out of sight. “Evan! Briar Rose! Wait for me!” Killian jogged after them, scooping Ian up in his arms. He couldn’t believe the size of the toy section when they reached it. Toyland, Storybrooke’s lone toy store, wasn’t even as big as this one section of Wal-mart. Immediately, Killian faced a dilemma. Briar Rose wanted to look at the doll aisle. Evan wanted to look at the Lego sets. Ian wanted to look at the Thomas trains. Killian ran his hand wearily down his face. “Okay. Evan, you’re old enough to go over to the Legos by yourself I suppose. Just don’t go anywhere else. Ian, we’ll look at Thomas trains AFTER we look at dolls with your sister. She’s always having to do boy things, so it’s only fair.”

Ian, of course, stomped his little feet again in frustration. When Killian continued to tell him no, he sprinted down the aisle and around the corner. “Ian!” Killian yelled. He glanced back at Briar Rose, then down the end of the aisle where his three year old had disappeared. Growling in frustration, he scooped up his daughter and raced for the aisle that said “Thomas,” but when he got there . . . no Ian. His heart suddenly constricted in his chest. Where was he? And what would Emma say? “Ian! Ian!” he continued to shout as he raced up one aisle and down another. He finally found him in the last place he had thought to look – the Lego aisle, standing next to his big brother, both admiring a Lego set of the Millenium Falcon. Killian let out a shaky breath, setting Briar Rose down as his heart slowed its erratic beating.

But there was no rest for the weary, apparently. Evan turned suddenly to his father, legs crossed, hands cupping his privates. “I gotta pee. Now!”

Killian groaned. “Do you know where it is?”

“Yeah, I think.”

“Ok, well, run in that direction. You too, Briar Rose. Ian and I will be right behind you.”

Killian turned to find that his three year old had turned into a helpless puddle on the floor. “Nooo!” he wailed. “Toys!” Killian picked him up, but the child’s limbs dangled and dragged on the floor. How did toddlers will themselves to become heavy when having a tantrum? Killian hoisted Ian over one shoulder, still kicking and screaming as he raced down the aisle. When he came out into the large center aisle, Evan and Briar Rose were nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, it only took him a moment to find the sign that said “Restroom.” He ran as fast as he could in that direction, following the signs until he ended up in front of the men’s room just as Evan was exiting. Once again, Killian found himself looking around frantically.

“Where’s your sister?” “I dunno,” Evan said with a shrug of his shoulders. Killian wanted to back-hand him for the second time that day. Didn’t he know Briar Rose was a helpless five year old girl?

“Well – think son! When did you see her last?”

“She got distracted by Zootopia. On the TVs.”

Killian raced back out into the main part of the store.

“Look, Daddy, Star Wars!” Killian looked behind him, frustrated to see Evan looking at DVDS.

“I don’t have time for this Evan! We lost your sister!” Killian stomped back over to Evan, grabbing him by the elbow and dragging him away from the DVDS. As Killian turned back around, he saw the same older couple from earlier. The woman was muttering and giving him the most condescending look, but at that point, he could really care less. He had to find Briar Rose! She was such an adorable little thing; what if someone had grabbed her? He saw the movie Evan had mentioned, but there was a whole row of dozens of televisions playing the same thing. Finally, he heard the sound of crying. Ahead of him, at the end of an aisle stood Briar Rose, turning frantically in circles. Killian raced to her, falling to his knees and enveloping his little girl in a hug, managing to keep hold of the boys in the process.

“Anything I need to know?” came a familiar voice from behind them.

Killian stood to face Emma, holding tight to all three children. “Yes, Swan,” Killian growled. “We’re leaving. NOW.” He deposited Ian in the seat at the front of the cart, ignoring the child’s protests as he buckled him in.

“Have a rough time?” Emma asked, trying to keep a straight face.

“This place is worse than torture in hell, Swan!” Killian snapped. “And I should know!”

Emma scoffed. “Please, Killian, don’t exaggerate. Besides, you were in the underworld, not hell.”

“Well I’d rather face Hades a million times over than endure this place one second longer. Come on children, don’t dawdle.”

All three of them began to protest: “But what about our cookies?” “We didn’t get to look at the toys at all!” “Thomas trains!”

“NO!” Killian cut them off firmly, raising his good hand in the air. “I lost each of you –“

“You did?” Emma asked, but Killian continued without even acknowledging the question.

“ – got knocked over by who knows how many people, had to endure more whining from the three of you than any father should have to endure, and there’s a lady in her somewhere who’s probably calling an orphanage as we speak because she thinks I’m an unfit parent.”

“Children’s services, Killian, not an orphanage.”

“Whatever. Let’s pay for this rubbage and get the hell out of here.”

Killian turned the dilapidated cart awkwardly towards checkout, the children for once completely silent.

************************************************

An hour later, Killian sat in a booth at McDonald’s his head resting wearily against Emma’s shoulder. The kids had acted like total brats at Wal-mart, but they were all starving by the time they left the store, and they hadn’t gotten the cookies, after all. Storybrooke didn’t have a McDonald’s either, and Emma and Killian felt like Wal-mart had been just as much torture for the children as it had been for them. Besides, after Killian’s outburst they had been perfect angels.

“Swan, next year, just tell me to shut up and buy the damn school supplies at Dark Star.”

Emma chuckled, running her fingers through Killian’s dark hair. The children were burning off all their energy on the playground. Hopefully, they would all sleep on the trip home. Emma could have told Killian “I told you so,” but instead, she just kissed the top of his head. Killian’s phone dinged and Emma picked it up from where it sat on the table. She giggled when she saw what it was. She stuck the phone in front of Killian’s face. “Look how much you got back with savings catcher, honey.”

“Bloody hell,” Killian groaned, slumping forward to rest his forehead on the table, “you’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Nope,” Emma replied, still laughing, “we got back a whopping twenty-nine cents. They say they’ll transfer it to a Wal-mart gift card.”

Killian lifted his head and scowled at Emma. She leaned over and began massaging his shoulders. Leaning even closer, she whispered in his ear, “You know, I did pick up a little something after I got all the school supplies. Something for me to wear . . . tonight.”

Killian suddenly sat up eagerly, all smiles. “Really?”

Emma withdrew a Wal-mart bag from her purse and dangled it teasingly in front of him. Killian snatched it out of her hands and peeked inside. His face fell. “That’s cruel, Swan.”

Emma’s laughter was spilling out now in hiccupping gasps. Briar Rose came bouncing over. “Mommy got you a present?” she asked, looking inside the bag. She pulled out the pink grandma nightgown. “Ooohh, Mommy, pretty! It’s got kitty cats!”

Emma doubled over laughing now, tears streaming down her face. Killian waggled a finger at her, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “Just wait until tonight, Swan. I know how to wipe that grin right off your face.” As hideous as the nightgown may be, Killian knew it would look rather fetching in a heap on the ground after he had removed it from his Swan’s lovely figure.

Emma wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. She knew this wasn’t exactly the fun Killian had envisioned back in Neverland, but her husband versus the modern world was an endless source of amusement for Emma. She was suddenly eager for the holiday season.

She couldn’t wait to introduce Killian to lay-away.

[inkstainedfanfics]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!

Kelly, ahhhh happy birthday! I’m sorry this is so close to midnight lol so it may be one of the last birthday wishes you receive, but I hope you had an amazing day filled with laughs and cheers and happiness. I wanted to give you a small something as a gift, and I figured what would work better than a little bit of writing? So happy birthday, @fantasticnewtimagines​. Thank you for always being a small corner of positivity here and for being the most awesome person. Ily and hope you had a day as fantastic as you are <3

You drag your feet into the back room of the restaurant, tiles squeaking with each step you take to the window. You’re grateful for the final streaks of red in the sky that mark the end of your unplanned shift. Granny called only an hour into your day of relaxation, begging you to come in because Red was too sick to work and it was the premiere of the new dinner special. “I know it’s your birthday, dearie, but I could really use the help.” Only a couple of minutes left before you can escape.

The sun’s set by the time you slink into the humid summer night. The air’s thick with a promise of rain, and, by the way the grey clouds in the sky are climbing on one another, you wouldn’t be surprised if the sky broke open before you managed the five-block walk to your house. Though you know he has a night out with the boys planned, you shoot Killian a quick ‘I’m off work’ text before starting forward with your head ducked. The last thing you want is to be dragged into some conversation by anyone in the town, not when you can at least salvage some of the night by warming up a slice of cake in the microwave and dropping some ice cream on top of it.

Miraculously, you make it to your front door just as the first droplets are breaking open against the concrete: your first bit of luck today. Sighing, you reach forward to grab the handle. Your feet are sore, your back hurts, and you’re ready to just fall in bed and mourn the loss of your day off, but you stumble forward when the handle jerks away from you. The whole door blows open for a moment, then it slowly swings back toward you. It bounces against its frame, making a gentle click that you can hardly hear over the grumble of thunder in the distance. The door’s open, ajar, left unlocked for anyone to get in.

Fear freezes you in place, though some small part of you is just annoyed. Of course this would happen. The whole day has been a mess; your alarm clock went off early, you were called into work on your first day off in months, you reek of chicken gravy and alcohol, and now, as you’re stuck outside in the quickly growing storm, someone’s broken into your house. All you wanted was one day to spend at home, with only Killian, watching dumb movies, eating all the junk food you could muster up from the depths of your pantry, and just relaxing. But no, every single plan had to be ruined. Every single damn one, and now you won’t even get to see your boyfriend on your own birthday. How the hell did that happen?

The anger of it all, the loss of the day, the unfairness of your life, is a tide in your chest, rising until it washes over your fear and you grit your teeth and push the door open, stepping inside. If there’s a burglar in here, he can deal with you.

Swiping a nearby umbrella from its useless place on a hook, you creep forward into the house.

The living room is empty, as are the bathroom and the mud room. The storm pounds away at the window, and the gusts of wind blow the front door open wider and wider, nearly slamming it against the wall. You only have so much time, you know, until the potential burglar finds you. Lips sealed shut, barely breathing, you creep around the house, stopping in the corner before you pull the door to the kitchen open.

A soft bang comes from the other side of the door, followed quickly by a muffled curse. You jump at the noise, but that reaction is nothing compared to the leap you take when the front door finally slams into the wall. The bang could probably be heard anywhere in the house, which means the burglar will expect someone.

A shot of fear streaks through your chest, sending your heart pounding and your hands sweating, and you wonder if you should’ve called Killian, should have asked him to come check the place with you, but it’s too late. Whoever’s here is going to find you. You’ve seen too many horror films to try backing away now.

Sucking in a deep breath, you draw up whatever anger you have left, eyes darting to the doorknob when it starts to turn, and lift your weapon.

“Get out of my house!” You scream as you squeeze your eyes shut, praying the neighbors heard, that they’ll help. You swing the umbrella, glad to hear it crack victoriously against the intruder, followed quickly by a sharp cry.

“Bloody hell! What are you doing?”

“Get out of my house!” You cry again, smacking him over and over on the arm, knowing as you do that it isn’t helping at all.

“Aye, I will if you really don’t want me here.” The voice is injured, though faintly amused, and accented in an unmistakable way.

You pause your assault, the familiarity of the voice washing over you. No, it can’t be… “Killian?” You question, lowering the umbrella and opening your eyes.

He laughs, now fully amused, and rubs his arm. “D’you treat everyone like that on your birthday, or am I the lucky one?”

You loose a long breath. “What are you doing here?”

“I was here to help celebrate what’s left of your birthday, though it seems I’ve more use as a punching bag.”

You tap the tip of the umbrella against the floor; a quick beat to distract you from the embarrassment creeping up your throat. “I, um, I’m sorry. I thought you were busy tonight.”

“I was: finishing this surprise for you.” He shoves his hand in his pocket, gesturing toward the room behind him with his hook. “I think it turned out quite well.”

You crane your head to peer over him. The room’s awash in the warm reds and oranges of candles, the smell of cranberries and roast beef and stew waft from the room, earning a soft rumble from your empty stomach, one that makes Killian chuckle as he steps to your side and wraps an arm around your waist, and bright flowers dot the room, a full bouquet of them stuck in the center of the table in an elegant design, set next to gorgeous china plates.

“Killian,” you breathe out, stress melting from your shoulders at the sight, “you did all this?”

“With some help, yes.”

“This is amazing.” The umbrella clatters to the floor as you intertwine your fingers with Killian’s.

He smiles, kissing the top of your head. “I am quite amazing, aye. But this isn’t yours yet.”

You strain to twist around and see him. “What?”

“I’ve other ideas first, plans in place. After all,” he pinches your shirt between two fingers, “you can’t wear this filthy rag into the dining room, not when I’ve dressed so fancy for you.”

And he’s right about dressing up; he’s quite the sight in his leather jacket, the top button of the shirt under it unbuttoned so a bit of chest hair can peek out. his messy hair and eyes shining with mischief only add to the look of carefree arrogance he seems to effortlessly achieve. A bit of stubble covers his chin, a thin layer that will scratch you the second you try to kiss him, a small perk to dating a pirate that doesn’t believe in shaving often. The entire outfit, everything together, has you weak in the knees. You take it all in one final time before nodding.

“Fine,” you relent, “I’ll go change.” It would be nice to get out of your work uniform and into something not drenched in sweat and food.

You step away, but Killian grabs your arm as you start toward the stairs. “Not so fast, love. There’s no need to go up there.” He pauses, thinking, before grinning and adding, “yet.”

“My clothes are up there.”

He jerks his chin toward the bathroom door. “I’ve ran a bath for you and set some clothes out. Though if you doubt the advice of someone that can look as devilishly handsome as I, then go ahead.”

You narrow your eyes at him, though you’re giddy at the thought of everything he’s readied. Killian rarely goes all out for such occasions. “What else do you have planned?”

He takes a deep breath, pretending to ponder the question as he stares into the room behind you. “Oh, I don’t know. I thought perhaps a massage would be in order, then watching whatever moving picture you’d like.”

“Movie, Killian. They’re called movies.”

He shrugs, stepping toward you, sending your heart into overdrive yet again. “Whatever you say, my love.”

You roll your eyes as he wraps his arm back around your waist, tugging you against him so the tip of your nose brushes his. “It’s not my choice, you know. The name, I mean.”

“No?” Killian’s head tilts the slightest. “You know what my choice is? Unrelated to moving pictures, that is.”

You catch your breath as his eyes travel to your lips then back to your gaze, a teasing gesture he knows drives you crazy. “I have no idea.” You manage to murmur, your own gaze tracing down his nose and to his mouth.

“You, of course.”

Then he kisses you, lips so light on your own you wonder if you imagined it. You might’ve believed you had, in fact, if it weren’t for the rough scratch of his stubble, if it weren’t for the way his hand slides up your back to tangle in the hair at the base of your neck, if it weren’t for the soft sigh he releases when he pulls away. A wave of butterflies and nerves crash through you stomach as you savor the kiss for another moment.

Your eyes flutter back open to see him staring at you, cocky smirk back on his face where it always is. “There’s plenty more of that tonight, love, but you should bathe first. I’m not inclined to spend my night kissing… what is that? Tuna?”

You step back, swatting at his chest. “Chicken gravy, thank you very much. And thank you for ruining the moment.”

“Aye, my pleasure, love. Now hurry up before the food gets cold.”

You do as he says, slipping into the bathroom only to gasp in surprise again. The room’s filled with a soft melody, one you instantly begin humming to yourself. So Killian bothered to figure out CD players for you, hm? And a sweet, lilac scent fills the air courtesy of the candle in the center of the room. A bottle of red wine and a glass are next to the bath, as is a fluffy grey robe and a change of clothes.

You sigh at the sight of the steam curling off the water. A hot bath will melt the final knots in your back, and a night with Killian, eating and watching movies and just goofing around, is in the works.

Smiling, you shut the door behind you. It may have started late, but maybe this birthday won’t be so bad.

[ushijimaenthusiast]

ushiiwa baking a surprise for oi for his bday

[read here or ao3]

He can feel Wakatoshi’s eyes burn into the side of his skull as he watches him scoop out a cup of flour and pour it into the bowl.

“That’s not the proper amount.”

Hajime has to stifle his sigh. Whoever thought baking with a renowned pastry chef was a good idea was wrong. If this wasn’t for a good cause, Hajime would have thrown in the towel the minute the first egg broke all over the counter.

“That’s not how you mix the ingredients together.”

“It’s still going to taste good, ‘Toshi, don’t worry about it.” Hajime hopes the impatience in his tone isn’t too evident, but it’s hard to tell if Wakatoshi even notices anything besides Hajime butchering one of his favorite recipes.

If this had been a regular recipe for milk bread, Hajime’s sure he’d be sweating at the idea of having to knead the dough, especially with Wakatoshi breathing down his neck. He’s insistent on kneading this recipe by hand instead of using a stand mixer, saying you can better control the process and people can taste the love, but Hajime just thinks it’s a way for Wakatoshi to stay in shape. After all, there’s no way his boyfriend can keep biceps like that without working out everyday.

Thankfully though, this is Wakatoshi’s recipe for milk bread cupcakes, something he came up with himself and won the hearts of many. The only heart they care for though is due home in a couple hours, and Hajime just hopes this will be the only batch they make tonight. He knows having Wakatoshi make these for Tooru would be easier and safer, but this is something Hajime wanted to try. After being excluded from most baking dates due to his ability to burn water, Hajime wanted to prove that he wasn’t a complete failure in the kitchen.

Wakatoshi does help him scoop the batter into the cupcake molds, and it’s clear to see which one of them has a keener eye for measurements since Hajime’s molds nearly overflow.

When they go into the oven, Wakatoshi sags against the counter and breathes a sigh of relief. Hajime gives him a shaky smirk.

“Wasn’t so bad, right?”

“I feel like my heart is going to explode.”

“Shut up,” Hajime throws a dish towel at Wakatoshi, who catches it with a small smile on his face. With that, the mood has lifted and the two clean the kitchen in companionable silence, waiting for time to tick down and their boyfriend to arrive home.

When the timer goes off, it’s Wakatoshi that jumps from the couch and pulls the cupcakes out of the oven. Hajime’s too tired to move, but despite his droopy eyes he doesn’t miss the sharp intake of air he hears from the kitchen. He snickers, but feels guilty at most likely having ruined another dessert Wakatoshi has spent hours perfecting. He just hopes the famous pastry chef can salvage them, and that they’re still warm when Tooru gets home.

He feels his head being lifted as Wakatoshi resettles himself on the couch, letting Hajime use his thighs as a pillow.

The best pillow, he thinks, and moves about until he can get comfortable yet again. He idly feels fingers muss his hair as he drifts off, all thoughts of today disappearing as sleep finally takes him.

 He wakes to fingers brushing the hair from his face, and he can tell by the roughness that they don’t belong to Wakatoshi. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the room, sure they’d turned the lights off when they crashed on the couch, and to notice that his head is still cushioned on comfy thighs, but his pillow isn’t moving or speaking so he figures Wakatoshi is also asleep. When he meets Tooru’s soft gaze, Hajime smiles.

“Welcome home,” he whispers, reaching up a hand to grasp at Tooru’s so he can place gentle kisses along the fingertips. The hand slips from his and is placed against his cheek. The skin is warm and Hajime finds himself leaning into it, closing his eyes once more.

But then the fingers shift and before he knows it, Hajime’s cheek is being pinched and pulled, causing him to jerk up and slap Tooru away.

“What the hell?” his voice rises, and he forgets about Wakatoshi sleeping next to them. He startles at the noise and looks around wildly before his eyes rest on Tooru, who’s grinning and snickering into his palm.

“Sorry,” Tooru says. When he calms down enough, he sits back on the coffee table, his eyes wide and glancing between the two expectantly. “It’s just, I come home and the two of you are sleeping? It’s not even one a.m.”

“Some of us wake up at five a.m. to work, not go to bed.” Wakatoshi hoists himself off the couch, cracking his back and neck as he makes his way to the kitchen. Tooru sticks his tongue out at the retreating figure.

“We woke up early with you to send you off, and then tried to stay up to greet you when you came home on the off chance you’d get here before tomorrow,” Hajime says. Now that he’s had a chance to wake up, and time to settle in again, his body feels heavy and sore, and hopes they can wrap things up in no time so they can go back to sleep. Maybe but unlikely, Wakatoshi will choose to stay home today and cook breakfast for them.

Wakatoshi returns from the kitchen holding a tray piled high with cupcakes.

Oh, Hajime thinks, remembering just why they had tried to stay up. Tooru’s eyes go bug-wide as he watches Wakatoshi bring him the tray and set it beside him on the coffee table.

“Are those what I think they are?” his voice is barely above a whisper, and Hajime finds himself smirking at the hungry look on his boyfriend’s face.

Because of how addicted Tooru became to them, Wakatoshi swore he would only make the cupcakes on special occasions, which meant one to three times a year Tooru could get them. He was banned from buying them from the shop because of how many he would consume in a single sitting, and Hajime and Wakatoshi both don’t think it’s good for a star athlete to put so much sugar in one’s body in such a short amount of time.

Hajime can practically see the drool dribbling down Tooru’s chin as he continues to stare at the cupcakes. Wakatoshi retakes his seat next to Hajime, then leans against him and rests his head on his shoulder. Hajime knows it can’t be an entirely comfortable position, considering even sitting down Wakatoshi is still taller than him. But Hajime isn’t going to complain. He snakes his arm around Wakatoshi’s waist and clings tight.

“Hajime made them,” Wakatoshi says, his voice a deep rumble in Hajime’s ear. “He insisted on doing so completely by himself. So if they taste horrible, you’ll know why.”

“Asshole,” Hajime pinches the squishy side of Wakatoshi’s waist.

Tooru doesn’t seem to hear them though because he picks one up, unwraps the liner, and shoves the whole thing into his mouth. Hajime’s lips part in surprise as he watches the other man eat an entire cupcake in one bite. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised, considering how he found out about Tooru’s lack of a gag reflex. There’s nothing that Tooru can’t fit into his mouth.

He’s already biting into a second one before Wakatoshi asks, “How are they?”

Tooru fixes them with a deadpan stare as he shoves the rest of the second cupcake into his mouth. They wait for him to swallow, and he says, “These are the best damn cupcakes I’ve ever had.”

The laugh bursts out of Hajime before he can stop it. Wakatoshi pulls away from him and twists so he can pout in the other corner of the couch. Tooru just picks up his third one and eats it.

After a while, Hajime wrestles the remaining cupcakes away from Tooru to store for later, knowing the man doesn’t need so much sugar before sleeping. Wakatoshi is sullen as they prepare for bed, but Hajime just feels happy. He watches as Tooru pouts and looks longingly over his shoulder towards the kitchen, before he pinches the man’s arm and drags him the rest of the way to the bedroom.

Wakatoshi is the first to crawl into bed, having changed into comfortable pants and brushed his teeth. Tooru locks himself in the bathroom after Hajime has brushed his own, and he crawls into bed next, leaving plenty of space on either side of him for Tooru to pick.

Sharing a bed with two other men isn’t always Hajime’s favorite thing, but right now he just wants to be surrounded by the two that he loves.

When Tooru exits the bathroom some twenty minutes later, freshly showered and smelling sweet like vanilla, Wakatoshi is already asleep and Hajime is close behind. Except when Tooru decides to crawl over Hajime and occupy the empty space in the middle, making sure he digs his knee into Hajime’s stomach while doing so.

He makes sure to scoot far enough back that his butt is pressed against Wakatoshi’s side, then he reaches out to grab for Hajime and pull him close. Hajime lets the arms snake around his waist and the head be burrowed into his shoulder. He himself shifts until he can at least slide his arm under Tooru and attempt to hold him for a little while. Maybe he’ll fall asleep before his arm does.

“Thank you,” Tooru whispers, his warm breath condensing on Hajime’s skin, making him shiver.

He gives a gentle kiss to the top of Tooru’s head. “Happy birthday, asshole.”

“Mean,” he says halfheartedly, before draping a leg over Hajime, effectively trapping him. “Today is gonna be the best day.”

Tightening his grip around Tooru and mentally preparing his sleepy mind for the wild demands Tooru will ask of them later, Hajime smiles and breathes out a small laugh.

That’s when Wakatoshi shifts and turns over, throwing his arm over the other two to lock them all together in one sweaty, tangled mess of limbs. Hajime’s glad he’s not in the middle of them this time.

“We’ll talk about your betrayal in the morning, Tooru,” Wakatoshi’s voice rumbles. Hajime can feel the vibrations even through the hand resting on his hip. “But for now, get some rest. You still have your party to get to.”

Hajime groans as Tooru gasps, his body struggling to sit up and shove the limbs off him.

“You guys are throwing me a party?!”

“Surprise,” Hajime mumbles. He pulls away from Tooru and scoots until he’s at the edge of the bed, knowing that now, Tooru will be wide awake and pester them for all sorts of details on the party being held later this afternoon. Wakatoshi and his big mouth…

“Ha-ji-me,” comes the whine, followed by hands gripping his shoulder and shaking him. He can feel a growl of annoyance build in his throat as he squeezes his eyes shut even tighter to try and ignore the pestering, but Tooru just shakes him harder. He almost thinks he’s about to fall off the bed when there’s a muffled yelp and too much jostling to be considered normal. Hajime glances over his shoulder to see Wakatoshi with a hand over Tooru’s mouth, his free arm and legs wrapped around the rest of Tooru to cage him in place. A chuckle escapes as he watches Tooru struggle, but after a moment he finally settles down. Wakatoshi plants soft kisses on the side of Tooru’s head before releasing his mouth. The glare he gives Hajime doesn’t diminish.

“Sleep now. Good things come to those who wait.”

The words seem to have their desired effect. The glare dissipates as Tooru sags against Wakatoshi. Hajime rolls over to face them, his hand searching the sheets for Tooru’s. Their fingers lace together and Hajime gives his hand a squeeze.

“A few hours of rest won’t kill ya, you know.”

Tooru huffs before mumbling “I know.” With his eyes downcast, it’s hard to read what he might be thinking. “It’s just been a long time since we were all together for a birthday. You were gone on yours and I won’t be here for ‘Toshi’s. I just want to spend every minute with you two.”

Hajime snorts. “We may not always be together, but we’re not going anywhere.”

A puff of air ghosts over his face as Tooru huffs and pulls his signature pout. “You and ‘Toshi, both so reasonable. When did that happen?”

The rumble resonates in both of them as Wakatoshi, still half-asleep, mutters, “When we started dating you.”

[toodi-imagines]

Can i get some angst 2Doc babe😁😁😁😁(i wanna feel pain)

buckle up for the most mediocre ride of your life!!!!1,,!!!1!! Yeah hi and I also wanted to kind of give my perspective on what I think is up with murdoc’s mental health bc I have some Theories™ so I hope that’s okay. And full disclaimer im sorry this is total shit i literally can’t fucking write angst

2D took a deep breath and held it, preparing for whatever could be behind the dark, wooden door inches away from him. He reached for the cool, brass knob and turned it. He stepped in, eyes wide, expecting the worst. Though, the scene before him couldn’t have been any more dull. There was Murdoc, slumped grumpily on the couch only a few feet away from the therapist. “Come in, Stuart, I’d like to get started here,” she began in a professional tone. 2D’s eyes darted across the room, searching for a place to sit other than the sofa, however, the room appeared sparse on furniture. Sheepishly, 2D rubbed the back of his neck and slowly took his seat next to Murdoc, who grumbled deeply as 2D lowered himself to the couch. The therapist waited patiently, analyzing the dynamic between the two. This was the first therapy session between them, and 2D was already regretting it–despite the fact that it had been his idea. Though Murdoc strained to maintain his dark, enigmatic persona, he was nearly as anxious as 2D underneath it all. “So what brings you two in?” the therapist quizzed. 2D’s eyes flicked over to Murdoc, expecting him to take the lead. A habit he’d developed after years of Murdoc cutting him off. Surprisingly, Murdoc stayed quiet. 2D sat in silence for a few moments struggling to conjure up the words he was looking for. How to describe the events that had led them here. He’d been kidnapped, drugged, and abused, yet somehow there was still some sort of relationship worth salvaging between them. How to explain that? After a few moments of 2D’s unresponsiveness Murdoc angrily interjected, “Well, go on an’ tell ‘er, then! This was all your soddin’ idea.” 2D, feeling slighted, huffed and retorted, “I s’pose that’s the reason we’re here right now,” referring to Murdoc’s rude and obnoxious behavior. The therapist raised her eyebrows slightly, “I see. There’s clearly some work to do here, so I suggest we get started. Sound okay for you two gentlemen?” she asked. Murdoc simply grumbled, and 2D nodded. “To start off, I’ll start by discussing the basics with you; this may take a while, but it’s necessary to cover so you know what to expect. Therefore, I need the both of you to be paying attention,” she explained, continuing on with somewhat of a syllabus for the sessions. She expounded the importance of boundaries, and honesty, and creating safe environments, all while demonstrating what their sessions would cover, and what would be imperative for healthy growth in their relationship. 2D followed along intently–desperate for reconciliation with Murdoc. Though, Murdoc himself was skeptical of the whole situation. He felt demeaned and belittled. Being told what to do just wasn’t his style, and he prefered to dance around the subject of his mental health. Facing it head-on was a new beast he’d rather not conquer, and especially not without full control. Powerless and vulnerable, Murdoc’s god complex was shattered. And though these realizations flushed him with emotion, he said nothing. Rather, he fumed in silence. Being abused had taught him to bottle emotions and seek power he could in every situation possible–and therapy was the only place he couldn’t. Completely lacking in all ability to cope with emotion, the therapist’s words only continued to frustrate him further. By the end of the session, he’d never felt more on edge. He was halfway out the door before the therapist could even say “see you next week.” 2D watched lamely as Murdoc lumbered out without even a farewell. Discouraged, he reflected on their decision to get counselling…Maybe it had been a poor decision. He scuffed a toe into the floor and uncomfortably said goodbye. “Goodbye, Stuart. And don’t worry about him, he’ll come around,” the therapist comforted, sensing 2D’s disheartenment. 2D nodded and stalked away, reaching the parking lot just in time to catch Murdoc speeding dangerously fast out of the exit. He exhaled deeply and bit his lip. Gnawing at it, he pondered the therapist’s words. Could Murdoc possibly come around? A buzzing from his back pocket interrupted his trail of thought. Fishing it out, he discovered it was Noodle and answered while climbing into the car he’d taken. “Hey, could you pick up some bread and soy sauce on the way home?” she asked from the other end of the line, “we’re all out.” “Yeah, no problem, Noods,” 2D replied, his voice noticeably dejected. Noodle noticed his tone and paused for a moment, “Is something wrong, 2D?” she questioned. “Jus’ got done wiff my session wiff Murdoc. Didn’t go so great I don’t fink…” he responded. “I’m sorry, D,” she apologized, her voice laced with concern, “forget the groceries, come home and well talk about it. I’ll make tea,” she promised. 2D smiled emptily and agreed before hanging up. He sighed and decided on distracting himself rather than attempting to process his emotions and queued a sad playlist for the drive home. Little did he know that only miles away Murdoc had already stopped at three liquor stores, and was prying open every bottle he could get his hands on. 2D was oblivious to the fact that Murdoc’s vision was quickly blurring from a mix of alcohol and tears. 2D had no clue when Murdoc’s driving became reckless and irrational. He wouldn’t even know for another 45 minutes that Murdoc had swerved into oncoming traffic and needed to be life-flighted due to serious head trauma. And 2D wouldn’t be there to hear Murdoc weeping an apology from the side of the road, his limbs a bloody, tangled mess. 2D would never know that his name was the last thing Murdoc Niccals ever said.