#technically clothes swap too

[umbramus]

Ppgz personality swap #1 out of ???

[coffeeastronaut]

the shitscript is in fact a a a shitscript but crowley and aziraphale's 6000 years of crowley cheating at checkers every time and aziraphale never wins is seriously so insanely funny. like.

aziraphale is not at all stupid, let alone enough for crowley's literal "whats that outside!!!! [snatches his pieces]" but the fact that he KNOWS hes been cheating this whole time and has been LETTING him is so fucking funny.

not for the reason the script gives (something something its aziraphale's lame moral lesson that even he knows is stupid, but only after an 11 year old points it out to him) but for the reason ive invented in my mind, which is that this is yet another example of their looserman weirdo foreplay

[dominusfero]

Day Two of @kevdan-week 2022: Swap

Daniel adores every facet of Kevin's being; from his smile to his smell to his hair to his clothes, he is in love with it all.

[rubra-wav]

(Wearing their clothes anon) Sorry! For Lucifer, Vox, Velvette, Carmilla, Rosie, Angel, Alastor and Pentious

Various! Hazbin x reader stealing their clothes

A/N I ended up only doing them SFW because I just couldn't see most of them being into that. I will probably make a part 2 for Vox, though, because he'd DEFINITELY be into that.

How do you even manage to be smaller then Lucifer, he's like 5'2" LMAO (I am literally an inch taller than him IRL)

CW: SFW, gn!reader, Masc reader for Angel, somewhat suggestive in parts, very slight reference to violence in some, established romantic relationship

Lucifer

- If you came out of your room dressed in his usual outfit, he'd absolutely squeal upon seeing you.

- He would like it very much and thinks you look absolutely adorable in his getup.

- At home, he'd probably just wanna cuddle up to you and play with your (his technically) long sleeves while you watched something or doomscrolled for a while.

- In public he'd be a blushing mess though. (Assuming you'd be wearing his shirt and jacket - he'd likely ask you to change if you were wearing his whole outfit)

- He'd feel an odd sense of embarrassment but also particularly pride about it in public.

- He's so used to being short that if he was out showing you off it'd kind of be a middle finger to people who called him short in a way.

- And also because it's you in his clothes. Basically cementing yourself as being his partner.

- One of the people who would be NSFW about it.

Vox

- He'd love it.

- Especially if it was ridiculously huge on you - like his suit jacket or his button ups in particular.

- In general a partner who's smaller then him would make him feel much more powerful then one he has to look up to, but in his clothes?

- I'm trying to keep it SFW here but yeah 🤨

- If you were wearing his pants and they were super huge on you he'd probably be annoyed though, they'd be getting messed up due to dragging on the ground which is something that'd bother him.

- In public (assuming your relationship is known of. Would be an absolute no to wearing his clothes out if you weren't known about) he would be beaming with pride about it.

- Like Lucifer, it'd cement you as being his partner.

- He'd probably be protective possessive of you in his clothes. If someone tries to even talk to you while you're in his clothes, he would likely be fuming.

- Vox's hands would also likely be on you at all times if you were out with him and wearing his clothes.

Velvette

- If it was anything that was dragging on the floor or getting even slightly crinkled if you wore it she would throw an absolute fit about it.

- She's way too particular about her clothes being treated properly.

- If you're treating her clothes well or if it's something she cares about less? She would probably think you looked very postable like that - which is a good thing in her terms of course.

- Would absolutely want to put photos of you online wearing her stuff. Especially if you both ended up doing an outfit swap with each other due to it.

- Couple stuff gets a ton of likes, and she wants to show you off like the fine arm candy you are to be her partner!

- Probably would not want you wearing her clothes out, though. You would be wearing clothes that fit you or looked perfect for your body type - not hers.

- Most you would get would possibly be her jacket out in public, but even that's unlikely, considering she always picks out every article of clothing and accessory perfectly for her outfits.

Carmilla

- Carmilla would likely see you wearing her clothes and just chuckle, asking you what you thought you were doing exactly.

- She wouldn't feel much of which way about it, just that you were incredibly cute trying to strut around like she usually would in her shirt.

- May try to dance with you since you "so obviously want to be in her shoes"

- slowly guiding you through steps with her through the tango, carefully leading with a look of pure delight on her face.

- Would kiss you on the forehead afterwards.

- Out in public she wouldn't want you to wear her clothes at all however.

- She's the main weapons dealer in hell, a lot of people want her head on a plate for that.

- She would just not feel comfortable having you possibly be mistaken as her or targeted by those people over that.

Rosie

- She wouldn't feel any which way about it either.

- But, she would of course tell you you look absolutely darling.

- Rosie would absolutely be one to pat you on the head about stuff. This included.

- If it's not one of her good dresses or skirts you're wearing.

- She's nowhere near as outright rude about it as Velvette or Vox, but she will firmly ask that you don't wear her good dresses so they don't drag on the ground.

- Outside of clothes, she does like to give you her hat though because it's comically large on your head and it's really cute to her.

- There is absolutely a photo of you with her hat on your head, it falling into your eyes as you smile at the camera.

- In public she wouldn't mind if you wear her clothes out, but she would be scared you would trip over as her skirts are very long.

Angel

- Angel is another one who would love to see you wearing his clothes, not for underlying lewd reasons (surprisingly), but because he thinks you look awesome in his outfits.

- It brings him joy in a way he can't quite describe to see you in his stuff.

- He knows his getups are cool, and to have you, his partner, in his really cool outfits? He loves it.

- Also finds it funny too to see you so small in comparison to clothes and tripping over yourself trying to parade around in some of them.

- Out in public he would probably be encouraging you to wear his stuff because he just likes seeing you wearing his clothes.

- Provided you stay close to him out in public though.

- He's got some insane fanboys and if they saw his boyfriend in his clothes? Shit would hit the fan.

- Without him he wouldn't let you wear his stuff out. Just would put you in danger.

Alastor

- If you were wearing his clothes, it would be because he allowed you to. Ie. Leant you his coat if you were cold.

- In the case of him letting you borrow his stuff, he'd likely just laugh at how oversized it was on you.

- He'd likely say you look darling in it as well, similarly to Rosie but inherently teasing rather than loving like her.

- He sees people smaller then him and likes to pick on them for it a bit.

- Also would probably try hold it over your head as his 'kindness' to you later

- If you showed up in his clothes (not an imitation but his clothes) without permission, though, he'd be incredibly unhappy about that.

- This man seems like the type to hate people touching his possessions without permission, so you showing up in his stuff wouldn't be cute or even him laughing at you - he'd be pretty angry about it and straight up tell you to change.

Sir Pentious

- He'd get all googly eyed about it.

- Would see you swimming in his coat because it's made to fit him as someone with a snake tail instead of legs and just wanna sweep you in close to him.

- He has pretty low self-esteem about himself so seeing you wearing his clothes is pretty much you telling him even more that you don't actually think he's a loser who's kind of gross like a lot of other people in the series think he is.

- Thinks it's just the sweetest thing and likely wants you to wear his clothes often after the first time he sees you in them.

- Somewhat flustered by you wearing them around others and in public because he thinks you two doing PDA/openly expressing you are a couple is somewhat scandalous, but he also does like it very much.

- Would probably try bullshit about him not liking it that much, but it's obvious as it gets.

Some fluff for today 🙏

My requests are still shut rn but they should be opening soon. I'm gonna be trying to finally get chapter 2 of why So blue out tomorrow or the day after. Likely the day after bc it's my birthday tomorrow and I'm doing stuff 🫶

Masterlist

[finelinevogue]

a montage of love

summary - a fan has put together a small video of some of your best moments together

word count - ~1.5k

pairing - boyfriend!harry x youtuber!reader

The video screen filled with pictures of you and Harry along with the title ‘A quiet love like Harry and Y/Ns’.

The ten minute video was a fan-made compilation of moments between you and Harry that were quiet love moments. Moments where you didn’t say the words ‘I love you’ out loud, but the actions were louder than words anyways.

The fan put a disclaimer on the screen and claimed that they didn’t own any of the content.

You was a YouTuber so a lot of the content came from her channel, since Harry was always so proud and happy to be on your channel.

The video then started.

>>>>Clip 1:

The background was noise, since you were in a restaurant.

You and Harry were sat on the same side of the green velvet booth, shoulder to shoulder as if it were a pain to be sat apart.

The camera was placed on the table in front of you. You didn’t want to film the whole evening, since it was along time you and Harry couldn’t afford to waste, but you wanted to record a little just for memories.

Harry’s hand comes into view to hold yours that’s resting on the table. When you accept his hand, he brings them both up to his lips to give your skin a soft kiss.

“I love you.” He said quietly, but the camera picks it up.

“I love you too.” You blushed and rested your head against his shoulder affectionately.

“You want the last bite of my chocolate cake?” He asked you.

You nodded against his shoulder and he brought his other hand, fork loaded with a chocolate bite delight up to your mouth for you.

You ate it swiftly, not allowing any crumbs.

That bite was Harry’s way of saying I love you, again, but just in a different way.

>>>>Clip 2:

Standing in front of the floor length mirror in your house, you filmed for a winters walk vlog.

Lulu, your dog, padded around by your feet, awaiting her walk.

You were showing your outfit.

“My leggings are from H&M; cheap and cheerful my lovelies! The hoodie is from Harry’s wardrobe, but I believe it’s not cheap and cheerful. Don’t ask me why it isn’t, when it’s literally just a blue hoodie…”

You often joked about Harry’s incessant need to buy expensive clothes when he could be better spending it elsewhere… like on you!

“The coat is from Zara, I think, but I bought it from Vinted. Grabbed a great price for it and we’re preventing fast fashion in this household. And finally my ugly walking boots are from Go Outdoors. Sexy, I know!” You joked.

Harry walked in behind you then, dressed in a similar attire only with black running shorts over his leggings.

“Ready?” You asked him.

“Not until you bloody zip your coat up.” Harry huffed, picking up the keys from the key bowl by the front door.

“I don’t need to.”

“Yeah, nice try you.” He laughed and then his was before you, taking matters into his own hands and zipping up your coat for you.

Technically one of your hands was filming and the other was controlling Lulu, so there wasn’t much you could do anyways.

“So annoying.”

“Huff and pout all you like, but I’m saving you from a life of misery and cold.” He looked proud of himself after he zipped you up.

“Happy now?” You sarcastically asked.

“Not without a kiss I’m not.”

You pretended like that was a chore, but really you were excited to give him a kiss. The video stopped then, because you weren’t one to expose your PDA to the public.

>>>>Clip 3:

In the same video, you filmed your walk with Harry and Lulu.

You went on a walk alongside a canal, stopping off around at a little book swap along the way. Harry picked up a book and so did you, Harry offering to carry them both as you were walking Lulu.

You were walking canal side when Harry tugged on your hand and pulled you across him.

“What are you doing?” You laughed, Lulu happily walking ahead of you both.

“Making sure you’re less likely to fall in the canal, especially if Lulu tugs you.”

Harry was now walking canal side, holding your hand with his.

You made sure the camera caught the moment where you kissed his cheek in silent thanks, forever indebted to his gentlemanly capabilities.

>>>>Clip 4:

The room is bright as the sunset burns through the room.

You are sat on the floor, in front of the sofa in the living room, filming a segment of a video where you answer fan questions.

“What did Harry get you for Christmas?” You read out the question that you were asked via Instagram.

“He decided to get me a weighted blanket, because every time he goes away I find it quite difficult to fall asleep. The idea of the weighted blanket is to mimic him lying across me, which makes me feel more safe and calms me into sleeping better.”

You blushed as you answered, picking up your cup of tea to take a sip of it to hide your embarrassment.

You paused to think about you opening that gift and how happy you had been in that moment. Harry knew not to buy you anything that was expensive or materialistic. He bought you something practical and perfect, plus the he bought it in your favourite colour; yellow.

It was such a thoughtful gift and even more thoughtful coming from a man who could’ve easily bought you a meaningless yacht if he wanted.

The front door then unlocked and you turned to see who it was.

“Hey, m’love.” Harry said as he walked through, Pleasing tote bag on his shoulder and wrapped for winter.

“Hello, you. How was your day?” You asked him, watching him take off his coat and shoes.

“Busy, but good. Yeah, we wrote an entire verse which I’m proper happy with.”

“I’m just filming a bit for my next vlog, but I’ll make is dinner in a bit.” You promised, knowing he would be hungry after a full day in the studio.

Harry walked over to you, with a bunch of colourful tulips in his hand. He crouched down beside you, waving into the recording camera before handing over the flowers to you.

“For me?” You pouted at how sweet the gesture was, “Why?”

“Does there have to be a reason?”

“Harry…” You whined, feeling like you could cry. “Thank you.”

“It’s okay. You’re worth more than that, which is why takeaway is on me tonight.” He kissed your forehead - aware that the camera was still rolling.

“It’s always on you, honey.” You joked.

“That’s right. Treat you so well, don’t I?”

You couldn’t argue with him there.

“Did you eat today?” You asked him, concerned for his wellbeing as much as he is for yours.

“I did. Mitch brought us a couple boxes of sushi.”

“As long as you’ve had something, that’s all I care about.”

“Oh what would I do without you, my love?” Harry asked you, kissing your cheek.

“Perish.”

“That’s one word for it.”

[reddpenn]

The current state of the Rock Wall!

Video transcript:

Who wants a tour of my rock collection?

I guess we’ll start over here; this is the newest shelf. I just added it. A lot of stuff from the other shelves have now joined this shelf. It’s got a nice little sliding glass door to protect my more high-end specimens. On this we have a lot of my thumbnails, including some of the more delicate, or some of the more valuable thumbnails. Some of my more high-end specimens over here, like that beautiful wulfenite.

I have started labeling the stones now, so some of the stones have these neat little labels, and some of them do not. But everything in this case does.

And then of course some of the larger high-end specimens down here. And I’m not sure what I’m gonna put on those lower shelves yet.

Up above that I have a new display case, and this is where I’m putting all of my cabochons.

So here I’ve gotten it down and we’ll open it up. This is all velcro. I made this myself out of a normal shadowbox that I got at the store. These are all attached by velcro so that I can take them out and rearrange them and add more to them and move them around.

This case is lighted. The case next to it is technically lighted, but the lights are out of battery right now. Eventually I want to switch that to something more permanent that can be plugged in all the time so I don’t have to constantly swap out the batteries.

This is the Original Rock Shelf, so it is crammed full of some of my oldest specimens. I recently did a project where I added these acrylic risers to it to kinda make a little bit of space, which made it a bit less crammed, which is nice. A lot of specimens on this shelf. Buch of geodes down there. That’s Geode Territory.

Next to it, below the North American giant ground sloth bone, we have more of my thumbnail specimens. Just a bunch of little guys. I’d like to light this shelf too. I think that would help them show up better. The meteorite collection is over here. We got some rust on this guy, but I think he’s doing okay. And then over here, my opal collection. So here is the Ethiopian opals, we’ve got an Australian opal, we’ve got a Honduran opal back there. That one up there is also Ethiopian opal, right in the middle.

Down below that, just more of the really tiny stuff, and some miscellaneous stuff.

The spheres and eggs are under that. The one under a cloth is a reconstituted quartz. If I leave it where sunlight can hit it, it’ll burn my house down so I just keep it covered because I’m a little bit paranoid about that.

Miscellaneous stuff: I got some tumbled stones, I got some palm stones. Just… stuff gets thrown down on that shelf.

The shelf next to it. This was at one point my large specimen and high-end shelf, and at this point is just the large specimen shelf because the high-end shelf is now over here. Which has made this shelf a lot less crowded, to move all that stuff over. Again, I’ve got my acrylic risers on there. I have a bunch of my big specimens. I’d like to light this shelf too. You can see how the shadows are kind of a problem like on the halite in the back there.

And then below those are the agates. This shelf is the bane of my existence. I have so many agates that I physically cannot cram any more agates onto this shelf. I’m gonna need to get some more risers and see if I can clear a little bit of space for the agate collection.

Down below that, some more miscellaneous large things. Got a jade, got a labradorite, got a kambaba stone. In the box is vivianite, but it can’t be exposed to light, so it lives in a box. And then here I have another one of these shadowboxes that opens up, and it’s got a bunch of gem jars inside of my very very small stuff.

And then over here, this is the shelf where my newest stuff starts living. Stuff that I’ve added to my collection most recently. This is also where all the fossils are living currently. And in that box is all the crinoids I just pick up off the ground. We have a ton of them around here.

Underneath that we’ve got this big desert rose, fills the whole shelf.

Next to that I have this tiny shelf that has some of my rock-adjacent things like my mineralogy puzzles. Tully lives here. Some of my mineralogy books but not all of them. They don’t all fit.

And that’s the short and sweet tour of the current state of my rock collection!

[genshin-scenarios]

at your service - maid!lyney x house of hearth!reader

Summary: where you’re both on an undercover mission, and Lyney is disguised as your personal maid.

Warnings: gender isn’t specified, but you are wearing a corset and makeup.

Adopt a Wanderer: Digital Store / Red String of Fate Prompt List

When Lyney knocks on your bedroom door to check if you’re ready, your heart lurches into your throat because you are not used to wearing such expensive clothing and feel like a fool. 

A corset hugs your waist, makeup dusts your cheeks and clothing fit for a baron’s child weighs on your shoulders like lead. Lyney and Lynette are too recognisable these days to play a significant undercover role, which is why you’ve been picked to act as a noble for the week in an invitational event.

It’s a normal checklist; blend in, gather intel, and escape. Lynette is already somewhere else in the building, infiltrating the staff while her brother gives you support. But all your self-consciousness immediately melts away the moment you pull open the door and meet Lyney’s eyes, suddenly hit by the fact of what his costume is.

A maid. Your maid, to be specific—and while Lyney has his hair styled with extensions to look more like a girl, you can’t shake off the oddness of seeing him in a dress and suddenly looking as nervous as you do.

“I don’t look that weird, do I?” Lyney tucks a fringe behind his ear. He’s shifting uncomfortably under the heavy layers of the maid dress, and you swallow the urge to shove him out of your room before you say something out-of-pocket. 

He looks too cute.

“You look great! I mean, not that you suit being a maid, but—” You fumble to put your gloves on, then straighten your back to show you’re ready to go. “You look fine. I’d be glad to have a maid as reliable as you.”

“Technically speaking, I’m supposed to serve and attend to you the entire time we’re in this manor.” Lyney says offhandedly. “Down to your outfit changes, even.”

A flare of heat floods to your cheeks. “We— We don’t have to do all of that, do we?”

“Well… I was hoping to spoil you a little while I had the excuse.” He admits, giving you a little smile. “Since I didn’t manage to impress you with my appearance, it’s the least I can do. I hardly imagine that nobles keep around staff who aren’t endearing to them in some way.”

Blinded by your own internal panic, you don’t notice how Lyney’s laying it on thick that he’s desperate for you to admit he makes a cute maid. He’d perish otherwise, living with the knowledge that he asked Lynette to swap roles with him just so he could stay with you. 

Lyney’s forgotten how these interactions tend to go; either he’s flustered, or he makes sure you are. And the more you keep a cool head, the more embarrassment creeps into his peripheral vision. 

“I don’t think I have to act for people to see that I’m endeared… by you.” Your words grow quiet as your eyes widen in horror. What did he just make you say?! 

Instead of a teasing comment however, you turn to see the soft quirk of Lyney’s lips. “I see. In that case,” he leans in closer to fix your hair, “I’ll do my best to keep you feeling that way.”

With a wink, Lyney puts on his magician’s flair for a second and raises your knuckles to his lips. He says it’s for good luck, just like all the other times he asks for a kiss on the cheek before a performance. You’re starting to wonder if he pulls tricks like these often on others, before remembering how Lyney would accompany you on stormy nights when you were children, reading a book in front of the fireplace. 

There’s no one else you’d rather have by your side.

[cherry-romper]

How you met them

+ Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Marco, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Levi, Erwin, Hange, Reiner, Bertholdt, Annie, Porco, Pieck, Zeke

Eren; Practicing ODM gear

You were in the crowd when he lost his balance and fell over. You couldn't help but stifle a laugh, the scene was quite funny. Some people seemed to take notice over you lost composure, Mikasa in particular. She stared daggers into you while Keith asked Thomas to swap belts with Eren. You watched on, an amused smile still on your face, as Eren now balanced perfectly with the gear. Keith explained that Eren's gear was rusty and broken. You had to admit, you were impressed. He'd been using broken gear all day and was still able to keep up with people. He looked at Mikasa with eyes of determination. "Take that!" His focus now on you. Confused, you cocked your head a little. "Yeah, I saw you laughing at me! Now look at me! Im gonna beat you and the titans!" He bellowed. His words lit a fire in you. A fire only he could extinguish.

Mikasa; Mess Hall

You had just finished the first day of training and were now sat alone in the mess hall eating your meal. Soon though, more and more recruits filtered in to get their food. A couple of people approached your table and asked to join you. You learned their names to be Eren, Armin and Mikasa. You all got to talking and bonded over small things like how Keith was overly mean and how you all came from Shiganshina. Mikasa didn't talk much, she just sat and observed while eating her food. Even so, she caught your eye the most, and you were curious about her scarf. It was boiling out, so you questioned why she wore it her. You could tell it meant a lot to her by the way she clutched it. "It looks good on you" you stated, "it compliments your eyes," you finished before getting up and leaving a blushing Mikasa at the table.

Armin; Met as kids

You tried to save him from the bullies, to no avail, and ended up getting your asses kicked together. Ever since then you didn't leave each others side. Neither of you had any luck with life and had always seemed to be handed the short straw. You saw yourselves in each other and bonded. He'd talk to you for hours about the ocean. You didn't care much about what was beyond the walls just that armin finally had something he was passionate about, and that made you happy. You'd protected one another, as best you could, mostly having your backs saved by Eren and Mikasa. You were both one half of a whole.

Marco; Mess Hall

Jean was picking a fight with Eren, or vice versa, at this point you couldn't tell, with Marco and Armin once again trying to stop them. You were uninterested and quite frankly annoyed at the two's antics. With a sigh, you got up to clean your dishes; the sooner you were out of the hall the better. Just as you were walking past, Eren shoved Jean a little too hard causing him to collide into you, the two of you tumbled to the ground. You stared up at the audience of slack-jawed soldiers. Only Marco rushed over to help you. The remainder of your stew now soaked into your hair and clothes. You gave Jean and Eren a stern look and they both apologised profusely. Jean made his way over to you to help, but you shoved him away, only letting Marco help you up. You whispered a thank you to the freckled boy as he picked your pots up and escorted you out the mess hall, his arm tight around you waist.

Jean; Line-up Introduction

You technically didn't officially introduce yourselves to one another, you just sort of stole glances at each other while waiting for Keith to come and humiliate you. You both were blushing and smiling at each other from across the way, giggling a little as Keith made his way down the new recruits. You watched on as Jean introduced himself and his wishes to join the military police. You couldn't blame him for wanting an easy life, hell you'd even considered joining the MP's yourself, but you didn't expect Keith to headbutt him. You gasped a little as Jean fell to the floor, holding his head in pain. Without thinking you moved to help him slightly before realising what you were doing. You rushed back into place, not before Keith took notice of you action. "Who told you to move, maggot!" He approached you fast.

"Sir, sorry sir!"

"State your name!" He demanded.

"Y/N L/N from the Trost district, sir!" 

"I see," a mischievous glint appeared in Keith's eye. "This your boyfriend is it?" He asked pointing to Jean. 

"No, sir!" 

"Don't you lie to me recruit! I can see right through you!" 

Without warning he grabbed hold of your arm and pushed you into Jean. "Help your pathetic little boyfriend, then do laps until the sun sets, you piece of filth!" 

"Sir, yes sir!" 

"You too, kirstein!" 

Connie; First Day

You were watching Sasha run her laps around the base as the sun slowly set. Connie and a few others joined you. He expressed his sympathy for the girl, you agreed with him but decided to make a joke about how it wasn't even half the potato that she'd offered him. Connie laughed "Yeh, I saw that too," he looked back at you with a smile, the sun's last light framing his face. The two of you then retired to the mess hall where you spent the remainder of the night cracking jokes with each other.

Sasha; After she'd finished laps

She'd just finished her laps around the base and fell into a heap on the ground. You'd stashed away some bread in your pockets for later but before you could get to back to the barracks a figure came lunging out of the darkness and stole to food right out of your pocket. "Hey! That's mine!" You protested, the person now on all fours in the corner. "Give it back!" You demanded but you were just met with growling as you watched in horror as they devoured your snack infront of your eyes. Without thought, you launched onto her in a fit of anger. The two of you became a tangled mess of limbs . You sighed in defeat and fell back onto the ground, watching the person, who you now know to be Sasha, finish the reminder of your bread. Once she'd cleaned the crumbs from her mouth she slumped down next to you. You both looked at each other for a moment before the two of you burst out laughing.

Levi; On the Battle Field

You miss-judged how far away the titan was from you and failed to slice its nape. You landed on the roof next to it and readied yourself to attack it from a different angle, but another titan caught you before you could take off. You tried desperately to cut yourself out of its hands but to no avail. Time seemed to move slower as you were lowered into its jaws. 'So this is how I go out,' you thought, 'not how I imagined it.'  You were about to succumb to your fate when a flash of green sliced the nape of its neck and you were thrown back onto the roof. Your saviour landed next you you. "Are you okay?" 

Still shell shocked from staring death in the face you just nodded. "Get up, the fights not over," he held out his hand and pulled you to your feet. "What squad are you with?" He asked. 

"Fourth," you mumbled.

"Fourth, sir," he reminded. In the chaos you hadn't realised who had saved you. You gasped, "Captain Levi, sir! I'm so sorry, I didn't realise-" 

"There's no time for apologies, find me after the fight. For now, regroup with your squad. And do me a favour, don't get caught this time." With that he was off, you watched on in awe as he cut down titan after titan as he went.

Erwin; Caught arguing with another soldier

You were given a task to deliver an important message to Commander Erwin Smith, who was currently in Mitras after a summoning. Being in the capital wasn't your normal scene. For one, the sheer amount of people was new, but even worse was the MP's. You were weaving your way around the soldiers in the courtyard, trying desperately not to be noticed so you could get back to the scouts asap, but an MP saw you and jumped at the opportunity for some fun. He was clearly drunk and started yelling insults at you, mostly to do with you being a scout. He was mumbling something along the lines of "wings of freedom more like wings of freeloaders," as his colleagues howled with laughter. 'Oh, the irony,' you thought as you tried your best to ignore it.  When he realised his words weren't working, he started getting handsy. Not in a sexual way, instead he put an arm around you and kept poking your side as you walked. You pushed him off and kept your head straight, but he was persistent. It was when he tugged at your hair and started sniffing it that you snapped and told him to take his "bug-eyed, no-brain, small-dicked self back to whatever pigsty he came from." You were just met with more anger as the two of you got louder and louder, screaming insult after insult at each other. You'd had enough of him and muttered a final "whoreson" under you breath, which took him over the edge and he raised his fist to you, but it was caught quickly by none other than Erwin Smith himself, "That's enough, both of you."

Hange; Meeting about the Titans

A few days after the fall of Wall Maria, a meeting was called to assess damage and to plan the next steps in action against the titans. You were a newly appointed section commander and, due to the recent attacks, hadn't been able to fully introduce yourself to everyone yet. Hange had been around and your squads had worked together before but the two of you had never actually spoken. During the meeting Hange proposed that they capture a titan or two for research. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Are you mad?" you asked, impulsively.

"Quite," Hange smirked. You let out a string of outraged sounds in protest.

"You can't do that!" You announced, many of your colleagues agreed, stating it was far too dangerous and could risk too many lives. Hange continued to argue their case, declaring that the information gained from taking such risks would be invaluable to the salvation of humanity. As Hange spoke, you couldn't help but be entranced by their voice. They spoke with passion and authority. Safe to say, they won you over pretty quick. Commander Erwin Smith thought for a moment before giving the go ahead for Hange's plan. "Alright, fine," you started, throwing you hands up in defeat, "you make a good point. I'll even give you help if you need." 

"Well, isn't that kind of you," Hange smiled, walking over to you. They stood in front of you, not too close but not far away either, they were only a couple inches taller but still seemed too loom over you. "Thank you, in advance. And, if you're lucky, I might even name one after you, section commander Y/N." There was a hint of mischief in their voice as they looked down on you, a small smirk played at Hange's lips. This was the start of a very strong partnership. 

Reiner; Sneaking Out

You couldn't sleep, the ghosts of your past lingered like fog on the moors. Your camp was next to a mountain side, so naturally, you thought some time spend looking at the stars would help rid you of your woes. You hadn't been walking for long when you came across a cliff with a view of a river. Moonlight danced over its surface, and you knew this is right where you wanted to be. Sitting close to the cliff's edge, you dangled your legs over it and laid back to star gaze for a while. You must have fallen asleep because when you opened your eyes, you were staring at a blonde haired man. You jumped slightly at the sight, "Hey hey hey, its okay. I was just checking you were still alive, that all," he explained, putting his hands up defensively. You sat up right, moving your legs back onto the cliff and gazed around at the other men that were staring back at you. You recognised them to be your fellow cadets, Armin, Bertholdt, Eren and Reiner; the latter being by your side. You laughed slightly, looking apologetically at Reiner. "Sorry if I worried you."  

"Its fine, don't sweat it," he smiled. "Besides, I wouldn't mind worrying about a pretty thing like you."

Bertholdt; Cleaning Duty

You'd seen Bertholdt around camp, it was hard not to since he was so tall, but he'd never really stuck out to you. Until, Captain Levi had tasked you with cleaning out one of the storage rooms and had paired you with Bertholdt. "I can't believe that little man is forcing the two of us to clean all this in just an hour," you stated, looking around hopelessly at all the broken equipment.

"Yeah, it's a pain." He replied simply. The two of you didn't really talk much after that. He took it upon himself to clean the top shelves and you the bottoms. That was until you saw something shiny on one of the top shelves. Using the other shelves as a makeshift ladder, you climbed your way up to the object. "Hey, Bert, come look at this!" It was a knife, with some kind of engraving on it. Bertholdt faltered for a moment at the nickname, but soon came around to look at what you'd found. You both stared at the craftsmanship in awe. You were still on the shelves, so you were eye level with him. It was the first time the two of you had made eye contact. Was he always this handsome? you thought to yourself. Breaking the gaze, you pocketed the knife and attempted to climb down; it didn't go well. The shelves shifted under your weight and started to fall but a hand on the small of your back caught you and the shelves. You took a moment to process what happened and thanked bertholdt awkwardly, his hand still on your back. He helped you push the shelf back up and then just looked at each other, the two of you blushing messes.

Annie; Training

It was safe to say it wasn't your first time being knocked to the ground, still the pain doesn't get any better. "Hey, Annie," you started, still winded from the blow, "do you think you could go easy on me for a bit? At least till I learn to defend myself." She looked down on you from where she stood, scowling a little at the request.

"Do you think your enemies will go easy on you?" she asked, deadpanned. 

You sighed, helping yourself up from the floor, "that's not what I'm saying-"

She cut you off, "don't make me laugh." She was deadly serious. Her eyes said it all, like she were scouting out her prey. 

"What I'm trying to say is I want you to teach me self-defence first," you straightened out your jacket a little. Annie watched you cautiously as you approached her. "Listen, I'm not the best at the whole offensive thing, and being bashed up none stop is starting to take its toll." You gestured to your black eye. You'd been doing one-on-one training non-stop for a few days now and still had learnt nothing on how to defend yourself. "That's why I asked to be your partner, coz you're good at combining both defence and offence!" She stood silently for a moment, glancing you up and down. 

"Alright, fine, I'll teach you," she agreed. You jumped for joy at her words, planting  your hands on her shoulders. "Thank you so much, Annie! You're the best!" As you pulled your arms away, you could have sworn you saw a slight blush on her face.

Porco; Invading Liberio

You were with the scouts when Eren launched an attack on Liberio. Porco had severely underestimated the abilities of the Survey Corps, you included. During the fight, he rushed into battle without thinking, leaving himself and his comrades susceptible to attacks - he reminded you of someone. You took the first chance you had to take him down, but his titans small stature and erratic movements were hard to follow. You'd managed to cut his arms a little making it hard for him to climb. After that, he cornered himself and you seized the opportunity to take him out, but he twisted and contorted before you got the chance to slice his nape, you flew right into his jaws. Now, struggling around in the titan's mouth, you desperately tried to stop it from swallowing you whole. 

"Trust me, you don't wanna eat me," you joked, "I'll probably give you worms or something ." You stabbed your sword into the back of its throat and used it as an anchor so you wouldn't slide down its gullet. You must have stabbed Porco's body at the same time because you heard him yelp in pain. His throat crushed you and pushed you around, desperately trying you get you to go down it or out of it. You cursed him out as his saliva began to coat around you making it harder for you to hold on, but instead of forcing you down his throat, he pushed you back up and into his mouth. The lack of oxygen was getting to you and you slowly began to pass out, but you could feel his titan running around, as though he was taking you somewhere. 

Pieck; Warrior Candidate

You were both lined up to inherit a titan. You weren't sure what titan you were hoping for, but you knew you wanted to prove yourself to you mother. She'd always wanted you to become a strong, independent person, who fought for what they believed was right, and that's exactly what you intended on doing. You weren't anything special, but you didn't fall behind either, you were right in the middle. Where you lacked physical ability, you possessed brains. Porco didn't see it as much use and mocked you for always being useless, but Pieck couldn't get enough of you. You always hung out, making sure neither of you would fall behind and always picking each other up. Both of you seemed to have a mutual understanding of how short your lives would be and that the two of you would never leave without the other. 

Zeke; Met as Kids.

As a child, you couldn't say you had many friends, but you also couldn't say you were lonely. You played with some kids who lived in your area but never really had anyone to talk to. You'd never had a true friend. Most days, you'd end up taking strolls by yourself, wondering around, until someone would come out and play. You were taking one of your usual walks when a small ball rolled into your foot. You bent over and picked it up, examining it a bit. Soon, a young, blonde boy around the same age jogged over to you.

"Hey, can I have that back please?" he gestured to the ball in your hand. Looking behind him, you saw an older man waiting patiently in a courtyard. You nodded shyly and handed him the ball, your hands brushing slightly. "Thank you!" he bowed and joined back up with the other man. You watched from afar curiously, they were talking but you couldn't hear much.

They continued to throw the ball to one another, smiling and laughing when they dropped it. It seemed so nice. Bravely, you made your way towards them. You stood just outside the courtyard, watching on longingly. Until, once again, the ball was dropped and it rolled to you feet. Picking it up, you looked back at the boy. "Oh, you're still here?" he stopped in front of you.

 You nodded, "you look like you're having fun," you stated. The boy looked back at the man, they seemed to communicate wordlessly. "Do you wanna join in?" You perked up at his words, now full of excitement. You never played this game before and couldn't wait to see how it worked. "I'm Zeke, by the way," the boy added, as he walked you over to the man. 

"Y/N. My name's Y/N," you informed, looking happily at your new friend.

[incorrectbatfam]

Tim and Jason headcanons 👀

One morning during breakfast Tim keeps excusing himself to go to the bathroom to fix his boxers because they must've stretched in the wash. Meanwhile, Jason can barely move and waddles into the kitchen like he has a rubber band around his legs. Imagine the horror when they connect the dots and realize their underwear got swapped

One day Tim's room suddenly starts to smell like tomatoes and he tears it apart trying to find the source. Turns out Jason put soup in the humidifier

Jason: *gives Tim an iced coffee*

Tim: "You put salt in it"

Jason: "No I didn't"

Tim: "I can literally see the crystals"

Jason: "What crystals?"

Tim: "Right there, all settled at the bottom"

Jason: "That's how the coffee is"

Tim still owes Jason for the time Jason stopped him from faceplanting in Alfred the cat's litter box

Contrary to how it appears, Jason's hair is thicker. It's so thick that Tim accidentally drops a glob of mayonnaise in it and Jason doesn't notice until he combs his hair hours later

They get bunk beds on a mission. Tim gets the top bunk after losing rock-paper-scissors. While he's asleep, Jason moves the ladder to the other side

Jason puts a cockroach on Tim's desk thinking he'll freak out. Tim, who's on his third day without sleep, looks Jason dead in the eye and eats it

As a kid, Jason often re-wore dirty clothes until he absolutely had to go to the laundromat meanwhile Tim washed his more frequently in small batches so he wouldn't get told off for having a huge pile. Cut to the present day where Tim's sifting through a mountain of Jason's laundry for a pair of socks and Jason is offering zero help whatsoever

They stand out in the rain to see who gets drenched first. It's usually Tim—he absorbs water like a paper towel. Jason then gets in trouble because Tim could've gotten sick ("Thanks, Bruce, not like I'm soaked to the bone too")

And when Tim gets sick, he refuses to take his meds unless someone sneaks it into his food. Finally, Jason has a use for the NyQuil Chicken TikTok

Jason drives three hours from an out-of-state safehouse to hide in Tim's closet and scare him. Little does he know, Tim is in the closet at the safehouse, waiting to pounce on Jason

Jason peels a pride sticker off a villain's car and gives it to Tim

Jason mixes all the Goldfish crackers into a dough and bakes them into a single giant Goldfish. Why? 'Cause he can, and Tim needs something to test his new food pic filters on

In March their patrols end by meeting at McDonald's for Shamrock Shakes

Tim prank calls Jason and convinces him he's lost in Metropolis. Eight hours, countless Bizarro flights, and two unfortunate geese encounters later, Jason storms into the Batcave while Tim simply grins and asks, "What'd you think of my new VPN?"

Tim and Jason find a wheelbarrow at a crime scene and keep it after the case is closed because it's a free wheelbarrow. This happens twice more and now they have enough for a family wheelbarrow race

Bruce makes them spend more time together, so Jason decides to teach Tim the Three-Card Monty. Tim just nods along because he doesn't know how say that he already learned it by watching the second Robin out-con a conman

Jason wakes Tim up one morning by chucking a feather duster at him, saying Alfred wants everything clean. So Tim gathers all the dust in his room and dumps it on Jason's bed before going back to sleep

The Ferris wheel has a clear "no food" policy but Tim doesn't listen and sneaks a chili dog anyway. Jason's in the seat below him, and it's the second time something falls in his hair without him noticing

Jason: "Red Robin, do you read me?"

Tim: "Affirmative. What do you need?"

Jason: "Pick a different gargoyle. That one's mine"

Tim: "I don't see your name on it"

Jason: "Check the underside"

Tim: "It just says Robin, so technically it's both of ours"

At one of Jason's safehouses there's a mysterious bucket in the corner of the living room. No one but Tim knows what it's for

[maple-the-awesome]

Body Swap || Part 2/2

Part 1 ||

Pairings: Legend, Time, Twilight, Warrior x Reader

Overview: A wizard's spell leaves you both in a state of confusion, especially upon realizing you're no longer in your assigned bodies. No Wind for this one, so we'll just give him a cookie and spare him the trauma for today -.-/🍪 The other boys are at my mercy, though

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

Panic ensues nearly the second your situation becomes realized. Legend frantically tugs at his hair and clothing, hoping this to be some sort of illusion cast by that wizard, however his senses only confirm his fears: you've switched bodies.

You're him and he's you which probably shouldn't be as big of a deal as he makes it out to be considering how much worse this could've gone, after all, a greater enemy might've caused actual harm, yet that doesn't stop him from being upset.

Out of everyone this could've happened with - out of all nine of his traveling companions - why did this have to happen with you, the only girl in the group?! Nevermind that you're also his crush!

"I can't believe this..." He groans, picking at another strand of hair and holding it in front of his face. Alas, the color isn't the same as his usual faded pink, "Give me back my body!"

You whip your head around at Legend's demand, finding yourself mildly offended by it which is shown through the placement of your hands on your hips, "Don't you think I would if I could? Like it or not, I think we're stuck like this –"

"- Are you kidding me -?!"

"- Until the spell either wears off or we find a way to reserve it," You narrow your eyes when he interrupts. Standing, you dust yourself while he copies the action except with some added complaints and curses mumbled under his breath.

"I can't believe this. Of course, this is how my day would end. I can't ever catch a break, can I?! The others are never going to let this go. It's all we're going to hear about for the next week!"

"Geeze, I didn't know a day in my body would be so terrible for you."

Legend frowns, not intending to make you feel bad. It's not like you asked for any of this yourself. You’re equally as inconvenienced. It's just...reeeally weird and uncomfortable knowing that he's technically you right now. He's currently in the body of the girl he finds most attractive and sometimes daydreams about –

"I'm sure you're not having any more fun than I am. Let's just get out of here and find a solution as fast as possible, okay?" Legend hastily grabs your hand, intending on getting you both out of this dungeon before you can notice the redness to his cheeks (at least, he's sure he'd be blushing if in his own body right now. Is it even visible on your cheeks, though?), however almost as soon as he pulls, he's nearly thrown back against your unmoving weight.

Kill him now. He isn't used to not having his power bracelets.

"Did you...want me to follow you?"

"...Obviously..."

"Do you also want me to hold your hand so you don't get lost?" You give his hand a squeeze, all the while wearing a shit-eating grin that makes his face even warmer than before.

"...Forget it and fuck off," With that, he drops your hand and marches off, yet you aren't far behind, chasing after him while clearly having too much fun with his reaction.

"You know, this is usually the point when you ask me if I'm on my time of month! Is that your problem, Vet? You're already hormonal after just a few minutes in a girl's body?"

Has his laugh always been this obnoxious? Does he owe Warrior an apology?

"...Well, this is troublesome."

Your eye twitches after Time's calm 'evaluation' of the situation, "...'Troublesome'? You THINK?! You know, when I woke up this morning, I did not expect to end up becoming a sixty-year-old man -!"

"- Sixty? Is that how old you think I am?"

"Well, you act like it sometimes!" You defend, huffing at the end of your sentence before trying to rise onto your feet which still feel wobbly due to that wizard's spell. It takes you a second - and you almost tumble forward like a newborn giraffe, causing you to start swinging your arms around in a desperate attempt to regain balance - but eventually you do succeed in the basic human function called 'standing', "We need to find the Veteran. This is his stupid world, so I'm blaming him for this happening!"

Time, meanwhile, takes pity upon you by letting your previous comment slide. Unlike you, he easily gets to his feet as if ending up in someone else's body is an everyday occurrence for him. His new height is something you take immediate notice of, mentally noting how strange it is to be looking down at someone – let alone him – from so far up. Is this how it always feels for him? No wonder he took on the mantel of being the 'dad' of the group so quickly. You all probably look like literal children to him!

"Thank Hylia we camped close to the dungeon. The others should be getting ready for dinner at this point, so they'll all be in attendance to take joy in our misery," You smile sarcastically with a wave of your hand, however you only take a few steps forward before turning around and realizing that Time isn't following you. His face also looks rather...alarmed?

"...You okay there?"

He hums and gives you an awkward thumbs up, yet that doesn't change his expression any nor does he immediately move to follow you. He simply stands there, his face bright with embarrassment until he finally clears his throat, "I...think I might've had an accident?"

"An 'accident'...?" You scrunch your nose, needing a moment to understand what he could possibly mean. Did he just piss himself as you? You would've thought he'd have more self-control even if he isn’t technically himself. Sure, it might be scary opening your eyes to find yourself in someone else's body, but it's not that scary to warrant - ...Oooh...You get what he means now...

When the realization sinks in, you can feel your own face grow warm. You had forgotten all about that, "Oh shit. I, um...Yeah that's not – It's harmless, really. You'll be fine, it's just -...You know what, just don't worry about, okay? Let's focus on getting ourselves switched back around first. You, uh...gonna be okay dealing with it for now?"

Sympathy laces your voice, however it isn’t exactly strong enough to hide your embarrassment. Seriously, could this get anymore modifying? You weren't trying to think about the whole 'my-crush-is-currently-in-my-body' thing, but you definitely can't ignore it now! Out of all the days of the month this could happen - How embarrassing for you both!

Fortunately, Time, ever the brave gentlemen, nods, that be it slowly and unsurely, "If you can do it your whole life, I can manage for a day..."

"That's the spirit!" Please, please, please say Legend knows a solution for this because you will absolutely die if you have to talk Time through a 'change' of certain materials tonight.

“Oh no…”

“What do you mean by ‘oh no’? What happened? Are you hurt?” Twilight’s voice – which doesn’t really sound like his own – gets progressively more concerned by each question until he finally manages to escape the wall of smoke around him. Once finally receiving a clear view of his hands, he suddenly understands the meaning behind your less-than-thrilled expression.

“That’s what I mean by ‘oh no’,” You frown, watching as he flips his hands around front and back to confirm the notable difference he sees. It would be difficult to ignore how much smaller and smoother they’ve gotten…or to turn a blind eye to all the other major variations throughout the entirely of his body.

“Has anything like this happened to you before?” Whatever surprise you have towards your shared predicament is either quickly recovered from or masked well, because you don’t hesitate to pick yourself up and start collecting your fallen belongings – or rather Twilight’s – from the ground.

“Can’t say it has. I’m guessin’ you’re in the same boat?”

“Yeah, this is the first time I can knock ‘switching bodies’ off the bingo board,” You shake your head, pausing to watch him stand as well, “I know Wind mentioned being able to control other people’s bodies or something like that before. ‘not sure if it’s the same or if he’d know how to fix this.”

“Even if not, we’re in Legend’s world. He’d have to know some kind of solution,” Twilight sighs, going to place a hand on his hip out of habit, but he instantly decides against it in a quick movement he hopes wasn't too obviously. Even if he's consciously in this body, it's still yours. Touching his hip now would be no different from touching your hip any other time which is NOT a friendly place for hands to be! At least that's what his awkward brain tells him.

Trying not to dwell too much on any of that, he makes himself useful by plucking your dropped sword off the ground and returning it to your scabbard the same way you had done with his before reaching down to grab -

“- Don’t touch that!” You’re startled to a halt by Twilight’s sudden shout and turn to give him a puzzled look as he gulps while eyeing the shadow shard you were inches away from picking up next, “It, uh…It’s sharp.”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him, and for a second he’s worried he might just have to tackle you to prevent you from touching the object in question (which now that he’s considering it, would probably only be as effective as a sparrow attacking a horse seeing as you’ve switched bodies not to mention you’d only have more reason to question him in that case but -)

“- All you Links are such terrible liars,” You huff after a minute. Nevertheless, you step aside and allow Twilight to pick up the necklace himself. He’s careful to only touch the string and tuck it securely in a pocket because the very last thing he needs added to this day is you finding out one of his greatest secrets by literally becoming it yourself which would then undoubtably lead to his second greatest secret being discovered, after all, it's one thing for a random wolf to let you give him kisses free of charge, but there'll be a lot more to unravel there if you find out it's been your travel companion the whole time.

"Okay. Try not to panic. There has to be some way to reverse this - ARE YOU CHECKING ME OUT RIGHT NOW?!"

Warrior jumps with a start after having been caught, although he must not be too embarrassed because he doesn’t immediately remove his hands from their place on his hips nor does he show much shame in currently having his body turned at an angle to look at his – or more importantly – your back side, “What?! You do it to yourself all the time!”

"T-That’s not - When I'm in my own body!” You stammer, blushing at the realization that you apparently haven’t been as subtle with your habit of checking your own appearance here and there, “Excuse me if I don’t want to walk around looking like a mess with dirt and leaves stuck to my backside! I’m not over here looking at your dick!”

"I hardly think you can equate that to an ass," He deadpans.

"Well, I'm not looking at your ass, either, pervert!"

At last, something you say seems to get to him, your words causing Warrior to bow his head with a pout and that shared discomfort he should’ve had from the beginning, “I’m not a pervert. If it’s such a big deal, then you can come over here and fix the backside of this tunic. It’s riding up on me and it’s driving me crazy.”

You blink then glance around him to notice that your tunic is indeed all out of sorts, one end lifted and tucked in your belt. It must’ve gotten stuck that way during your fight with that wizard…Now you just feel like an idiot…

“…Oh.”

“Oh,” Warrior mocks with a roll of his eyes, not saying much else – perhaps out of pity - as he waits for you to help fix the tunic correctly, although truthfully he’s just busy redirecting his eyes and cursing himself internally for not having explained the situation from the start. He maybe-kinda spaced the fact that he’s currently in your body and didn’t consider the implications of what it would look like for you to see him fussing over your back end. How were you to know he was simply fixing your tunic? He really did probably look like a massive pervert.

“There,” You finally step away.

“Thanks,” He coughs into his fist awkwardly with his opposite hand rubbing the back of his neck. Even in a different body, he carries the same nervous habits, “Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to –“

“- No. No, you’re fine. I, uh, should’ve had more trust in you," You mumble, running a hand over your hot face before shaking your head. You need to get it together, "Come on. Let's just get out of here and find a way to fix this before any other misunderstandings can happen."

Warrior nod and follows after you out of the dungeon without another word to be said. He won't say it aloud - He refuses to even admit it to himself because he's supposed to be a gentleman and what if you've suddenly become a mind reader?...But if you were to for some reason ask his opinion, you do in fact have a fine ass.

[dusterbishop]

i hear you call my name (and it feels like home)

summary. || three timelines, you have watched remy lebeau die. you didn't believe you would earn a fourth chance to save him until you find a variant with no memory of his past, lost in a void of existence.

pairing. || gambit x f!reader (past relationship with current enemies-to-lovers)

count. || 6.4k

notes. || posted on ao3 here. warning for character death and violence. this is the end! thank you all for the lovely words of support, it means so much that you all loved this duo as much as i do. i have ideas of oneshots for the future, but for now, i leave you all with this!

part one. || part two. || part three. || part four.

Your ears are ringing.

Awareness floods you in slow, uneven strokes. You can hear the roar of battle buzzing through the fog in your mind, guttural screams of pain cutting through in sharp starbursts. There’s a staff in your right hand, and you spasm your grip on it, testing its weight.

It is Remy’s.

Once, that staff had been too heavy for you to properly swing around. He had watched you practice with a pained grimace for a week before he surprised you with your own to train with. The two of you were nothing more than colleagues at that point, simply two mismatched X-Men crossing paths by sheer fate. Until he had handed you your own staff, its weight balanced with delicate perfection in the palm of your hand, and showed you how to use it.

You had never told him that you only used the staff because you could see it in every timeline, a slow conversion of your fighting style across lifetimes. Not every life you lived shared Remy, but his influence still lingered at the edges, seeping in like ink. Fighting with a staff, learning to pick locks, using sleight of hand to swap items from timelines with ease. It was all an extension of your life with Remy. Just echoes, over and over, spreading out in rippling waves.

Echoes, which could never replace the thrill that sparks your attention when a blazing playing card whizzes past your ear. There’s a muffled explosion as the card makes contact with the enemy swinging for your head, and you gracefully sidestep the half-dead man that staggers into a collapsed pile at your feet.

“Watch where you goin’, mon coeur,” Gambit calls. Another whistling hum of kinetic energy, another flash of blazing purple as he throws another card and cuts down another blank faced enemy. The base that Nova commands has a strangely illusive layout, and the war-starved bodies seem like an endless, writhing thing to overcome.

Time is a limited resource, after all. You can taste it just as surely as the blood in the back of your mouth.

“Maybe I’m too distracted watching something else,” you call back. You don’t take the time to see the expression on his face, but you hear his delighted laugh before he starts slinging explosives again. It’s easy to fall into battle. Even easier while you’re wearing your old suit, and the fabric is soft and well-worn just as you remember it. The clothes you wore in the Void were fine for travel, but you felt strangely out of place last night watching Remy adjusting his coat for the upcoming battle.

You are one of the X-Men, technically. It’s been more than a lifetime since you felt like one, but you know their colors and their mission. The suit always did feel more like a formality. There is nothing that could prevent you from fighting for people who cannot protect themselves. Everyone else only has one life, and you have an infinity of them. The gold and blue of your suit is meant to inspire hope for the people you are defending, not to boast about your position, and yet Remy had stuttered mid-sentence when he turned to see you suddenly dressed in your original suit, prepared for battle.

Been a’while since Gambit seen you wit’ those colors. Though, Gambit t’inks you look better out of ‘em, too...

“Pot callin’ the kettle black,” Gambit says. He’s closer, now, as if magnetized to the orbit of your battleground. You smash the skull of a man trying to catch a cheapshot to Gambit’s ribs, and Gambit slips an explosive card into the pocket of the man’s coat for good measure. Briefly, his hand catches the curve of your elbow, brushing his fingers over the pulse-point. Even through the sleeve of your suit, you can almost feel the heat of his skin, searing bone-deep.

“Just calling it as I see it, Cajun,” you say. It doesn’t sound as breathless as you feel. Gambit still has that infuriatingly pleased look on his face, though, so you give him a half-hearted shove with a raised brow. “Save the world, remember?”

“Mais la, all bluff no play,” he complains. “S’il vous plait, mon coeur —”

Time slips.

One moment, you take the chance to catch your breath, falling all-too-easy to the lure of sparring with Remy. The next moment, you’re on the ground. There’s blood beneath you, pooling under your head, dripping from your nose and down to the hard-packed soil.

“Remy,” you choke out. Your ears are ringing with echoes of voices, though you assume it’s across timelines based on the range of emotions. You can hear crying as soul-wrenching as fresh grief, and laughing as bright as bells. It’s like picking up a landline and hearing a conversation you’re only privy to as a passing voyeur.

You blink away some of the dirt and sweat stinging your eyes. You’re still on the ground. Something weighty and warm is settled over your back, tucked into the curve of your sides. The scent of smoke and cologne curls around you as familiar as the back of your hand.

Remy draped his coat over you. You spit a wad of bloodied saliva onto the ground, grimacing at the dark thickness. How long have you been out? You don’t remember charging up to leave the timeline.

Even worse, you don’t remember going anywhere. Time may change around you, but your mind keeps itself sharp with a constant awareness. Even when you would travel time in your sleep, you knew you were moving based on the pressure changing in the air. There had been no pressure change, this time. Only standing with Gambit, teasing him in the way that blazed adrenaline through your veins. Then, it is you laying on the ground, curled up underneath his coat, tasting blood.

You blink again. You think you’re shivering, or maybe you’re trembling, because you aren’t cold. That hazy, all-consuming fever pulses across your skin in waves, burning across your every nerve. It takes effort to turn your head just a fraction, searching the scattered battlefield. You’re still in Nova’s compound. You can see Blade and Elektra distracting any enemy seeking the weaker prey, luring them away from where you lay.

It had taken two more days before you and Gambit had met back up with the resistance. Initially, you had been wary of the strange collection of mutants, reflecting their own suspicion of you back like a mirror image. Yet they had seemed relieved that Gambit was back unharmed.

Now, far past the initial skepticism of your arrival, they treat you with the same consideration they give Gambit.

Though Gambit is… the same, and yet he’s more. The way he fights is far different than the way he did during the days when you both worked with the X-Men. He doesn’t linger near the boundaries of the fight anymore. You used to breathe easier knowing he had been prowling the edges of a fight with his cards at the ready, always protecting your back.

Now, when he fights in the Void, he storms the battlefield as a raging violet-blaze tempest. You find him easily through the crowded clusters of skirmishes, his staff humming with kinetic charge. He wields a handful of cards with careful scarcity, and you know it’s because you have his coat draped over you, holding all of his extra ammo.

He is going to get himself killed.

That thought propels you into motion. Your arms tremble as you push yourself to sit up, the back of your mouth filling with blood and nauseating saliva. It hurts to breathe. It feels like there is a shard of glass lodged in your ribs, cutting up your insides. The only blood you can sense is the slow drip from your lips, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t damage you can’t see yet. Something in your being is dismantling in slow, even strokes, cast adrift from the timelines and stranded in the Void.

One of Nova’s henchmen gets too close to Remy and sideswipes him. The soft-muted grunt of pain from Remy sends a chilling lance of fear through your gut, though before you can move, Remy is already turning and taking down the enemy with a swift twirl of his staff.

They are going to kill him if you don’t get him out. You know it, and it hurts so much to move, but you push yourself to your feet with a strangled whine of frustration. Of all the times for your body to fail you, it has to be now, when Remy is exposed to an entire base of people trying to kill him.

His coat is a familiar weight over your shoulders, but that doesn’t quell the violent shiver that runs through you. Neither does it stop the sudden rush of dizzying pain, or the way you have to hunch over and spit out blood onto the dirt. No time. You don’t have any time.

“Remy,” you call out. You fumble to wipe away the blood dripping down your chin just as he turns at the sound of your voice, his face bright with relief. He doesn’t notice the blood. He moves quickly through the battlefield nonetheless, wrapping an arm over the shuddering arch of your shoulders.

“ Mon coeur,” he says, and he must see something in your face that makes him hesitate. “Enjoy your nap, chér ?”

You suck in a sharp breath. It’s always ‘chér ’ when he doesn’t know which version you are.

“Still with you, LeBeau,” you tell him. Your hand reaches up to cradle the curve of his jaw. He’s buzzing with energy beneath your touch, but it’s the simmering fire in his eyes as he gazes back at you that makes you feel set alight.

“Wanna play?” He says softly. One arm is still slung protectively over your back, but he uses his free hand to fasten his coat tighter over your shoulders, his hand lingering at the vulnerable curve of your throat. “I deal you in, mon coeur.”

You’re reluctant to let him go, so you pull him in and press a chaste kiss to his mouth. You don’t let him go deeper than that so he doesn’t taste the blood, even if there’s a savage wanting in your gut to sink deep into his embrace and never resurface. It’s not fair, you think, that you finally found him only to lose him all over again.

“Deal me in, Cajun,” you whisper to him. His fingers drop from the hollow of your collarbone to the seam of his coat sleeve, drawing a card. He flickers it between his fingers to show you his dealt hand — the ace of hearts — before it disappears into the nothingness of time. You let Remy press another kiss to your mouth, and you have to close your eyes to fight back the burn of tears. Even with your eyes closed, you can hear the hoarseness in his voice when he pulls back.

"You an' me, chér, couple'a aces, non?" 

You have to turn your head to hide a sad smile. "A matched pair."

Like that, the two of you separate. He goes into the fray of battle, the air whirring violently with charged energy, and you step back into the shadow, pulling your ace of hearts from the timeline. You have caught nothing but glimpses of Nova since you arrived, but you can feel her presence at the edges of your mind, probing for weakness. 

So you look weak. It’s easy to slouch against the wall, your breathing coming in labored pants, the sleeve of your X-Men suit streaked red with the blood you keep wiping from your chin. Hurt prey is weaker, after all. You know what she must see when she sees you so far from Remy’s orbit: an injured fawn ripened for the kill.

“Don’ ya leave now, the fun just startin’,” Remy laughs. He sweeps his staff in a wide arc, warding off the enemies crowding closer to his position, but he only has eyes for you. He’s watching you, and you know the moment she arrives by the way his eyes harden with venomous hatred.

“Indeed,” Nova says. Her presence is a sudden, harsh strike to your mind. You have to grit your teeth to muffle your shocked gasp. Her hand is lax around your throat, but you are all too aware of the hand gently caressing the back of your skull. You can hear the smile in her voice when she whispers in your ear, “I’ve never seen something like you.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” you say. The air whirs in quiet contention around you,  but you’re more focused on the card still clutched in your hand. Come on, come on...

“You’re a little wanderer, aren’t you,” she muses. She runs her fingers through the locks of your hair with gentle fingertips, and it takes all of your self control not to spasm and jolt out of her touch. You clench your empty hands tightly, instead, and try not to stare at Remy when he suddenly tucks his hand into a tight fist, purple light buzzing ravenously through the tight clench of his fingers.

“What are you doing running with the swamp rats, hm?” Nova strokes your head again. “You don’t seem like one of their merry band of misfits.”

Remy makes an indignant sound at that, and just as Nova looks to him, the light in his hand dies to nothingness.

“His name is Gambit,” you say. The playing card in your hand whirs with pitched fervor. Almost there. “Make sure you remember that.”

Time condenses to your will, and you’re looking right at Remy when the ace of hearts detonates, rippling a shockwave through you and Nova. Kinetic energy consumes you in a wildfire, burning through the flesh of your body with fervent hunger. You see the ache of distraught cross his face, and then there is only the movement of timelines shifting in place, carrying you through lifetimes, blurring the world around you into a wash of muddled watercolors.

When you blink, the world rights itself.

When you breathe in, settling back into a body escaped unharmed, you see Remy fall.

“No!” You shout. Or perhaps it is a whisper. Or perhaps it is spread across every timeline, every particle of your being spread thin and calling out in pained fury. You aren’t sure of anything except the way Remy twists, losing grip of his staff, and collapsing to the ground.

A wordless scream of rage tears through you. You can hear its echo filling the air as you yank time into a heel, drawing yourself across the expanse of the field in moments. You aren’t sure where the others are, or if Nova truly perished in the kinetic explosion as you intended. All you can see is Remy, lying in motionless rigor, and the man that took the shot that put him down.

Time scrambles in your mind, but you reach your destination faster than the man can draw his weapon at you. Your hands take his head in a vice grip, the tips of your gloved fingers digging harshly into his dirt-streaked skin.

“How dare you,” you snarl. If you had the chance, you would tear him through time until he disintegrated. You break his neck instead, the sickening crack of his bone fading from your attention the moment you feel his body slip from your grasp. You don’t manipulate time to fall to your knees by Remy’s side, but the space between movements is a blur you don’t care to investigate.

“Remy,” you half-sob. You reach out and grasp his shoulder, turning him over onto his back, and nearly sob again in relief when you see him squinting back at you with dazed annoyance.

“Lucky strike,” he mutters. Your hand flutters down to brush against his side, your heart seizing at the grimace on his face. The warmth of blood against your fingers spreads a numbness through your gut. You only press your hand firmly to the wound, gritting your teeth against the roaring fury building in your throat.

“What happened to ‘the house always wins’?” You snap at him instead. The blood is sticky and warm, and it won’t be staunched by the pressure of your hand alone. He’s going to bleed out.

“Raising the bet,” Remy grunts. There’s a sheen of sweat across his brow, but it’s the ashen pallor of his skin that makes your chest tighten with panic. God, you’re going to lose him.

“I hate you,” you whisper. You hate the Void. You hate Nova, and her violent-driven henchmen. You hate yourself, most of all, for doing this to him. For not being able to do more.

“Tha’ sounds more like love than hate, mon coeur.”

“Just playing the odds,” you bite out. He blinks at you, sluggish, and you realize exactly what you have to do. It’s the only thing you can do for him. You draw your hand back from his side and try not to gag on the smell of it permeating the air. There’s a steady puddle beneath him, soaking the knees of your suit, but you hardly feel it. You can’t feel anything at all, in fact.

Just that whirring buzz of time, and the slowly approaching footsteps of Cassandra Nova coming up behind you.

“Go ahead, Remy,” you breathe. The timeline whirs to life beneath your palms, a composed symphony to the crackling buzz of kinetic energy. You cup his face, thumbs smoothing away the dust beneath his blackened eyes, and you will him to live.

He reaches up to try and catch your wrists. There’s that furrow in his brow, again, like he’s preparing to curse you out for this. He’s a pulsing livewire of humming energy in your hands, simmering with an explosive potential. If he stays here, he will be nothing more than a husk. Dying like a goddamn hero, slaughtered like a martyr upon the altar, just to give you the chance to take down Nova.

So you imagine him at your apartment, in your bed, instead. Tucked under the blankets, his hair mussed from sleep. Figaro curled up on his chest, purring his strange rattling hum, the other two boys stretched out beside him. The world is quiet, and safe. Nothing is there to hurt him.

The timeline sings in your hands. You want to kiss him, but you don’t. Kissing him will feel like goodbye, and you don’t think you could bear the thought of it, not right now. Not before you finish taking down Nova.

Your gaze locks with his. You can see the moment he realizes that you aren’t going with him. The annoyance at being forced to take the retreat cracks out of his expression with sharp, desperate panic. His hands nearly catch you at the wrist, his fingertips brushing against the sleeve of your coat, but then he’s gone. You stare down at the dirt where he once was, fighting to keep your breathing steady. He’s safe.

At least, you tell yourself, one of you made it home.

Yet it still feels like a gaping wound in your side. You betrayed him to save him.

“Touching,” Nova remarks. You can’t bring yourself to move. You’re still kneeling in the remains of Remy’s blood when she strikes you.

The world flickers in and out of focus, spinning in rampant circles. Distantly, you’re aware of your legs kicking weakly in the air, your hands scrabbling desperately at your throat to ease the choking grip she has you in. Except she isn’t touching you, not with her hands.

No, she’s standing just out of arm's reach, smiling like a sphynx.

“I have seen so many variants,” she says idly. You’re choking on nothing, fighting the headache rending through your temples. “There’s been some Jean Grays, a few Rogues. More than a few Gambits. Many, many Deadpools.”

“And yet,” she continues. “I have never found more than one of you.”

The release of the grip she has on your throat makes you gasp out a cry, sucking in air with deep, hoarse wheezing. You hardly feel the impact of your body collapsing to the ground, too relieved in the taste of air. You rub at your throat with shaking fingers, trying to erase the feeling of her grip crushing your windpipe.

“That isn’t the strangest part, however.”

You know where this is going. You close your eyes.

“I could feel you,” she shifts closer to you, but you don’t have the energy to flinch and create distance between the two of you. “In your mind, you are nothing but fragments.”

“Wayfarer,” you whisper. It comes out in a croak, but you are far beyond caring. “I am everywhere and everything.”

“Broken,” she agrees. You open your eyes at that. She looks vindicated, as if admitting your ability has only made you weaker. You suppose, hunched over and wheezing, you don’t look as threatening as you used to during your X-Men days. You must look like nothing but bleeding prey.

Good, you think. You smile at her with bloodied teeth. “Broken things are meant to hurt, you know.”

Like shuffling a deck of cards, you let time flutter through your hands, staggering into a timeline version of yourself where you can breathe without choking. Your body follows the commands of your mind with elegant obedience.

Your hands meet their mark, and latch onto Nova tight enough to turn your knuckles pale. The pair of playing cards pressed against each of your palms sizzle with hunger where they make contact with her body.

Pain lances through your skull, exploding into brilliant light behind your eyes. You think your hands are still clutching onto Nova, but you cannot feel them. The world is bright violet, time shuffling with a charged whir. The kinetic energy ripples down your hands in great, staggering waves, a faint prickle of pain among the agony of time rendering itself apart around you.

Nova is screaming. Distantly, you feel her hands pulling at you, yanking at the lapels of Remy’s coat, hitting your face. She must be trying to delve into your mind. She cannot catch you, though. You are plummeting through every timeline, shuffling from one version of yourself to the next, then the next, then the next. Over and over. Over, and over, and over.

Shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

You think you let go of her.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

No, it’s not your hands that have let go. Your arms are shuddering through time, but your hands keep locked onto her, holding her steady, burning violet. You haven’t let her go, but your body is being torn into pieces.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

Nova isn’t screaming anymore.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

You are.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

You can’t hear it over the roaring of time rushing through you, but you can feel your throat blazing, screaming through every timeline, every version of yourself. This must be what dying feels like. It is infinite across all time. There is no other way out.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

Her body dissolves with slow tendrils of violet light creeping beneath the exposed flesh, tracing whirls with the lines of her veins and arteries. It consumes her from the inside, spreading out with a meticulous, parasitic intensity.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

Remy’s power consumes you, too. You see the light creep up your wrists, then your arms, then your shoulders. You can feel its warmth down to your bones. It almost feels, strangely, like it’s him hugging you. It feels like it did last night, tangled in his arms beneath the sheets, your ear pressed to his chest to listen to the rhythm of his heart.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

You wonder, distantly, if his power is trying to keep your body together. The charge of kinetic energy is concentrated in your hands, but you can still feel the heat of it pooling in the pit of your stomach and scorching the back of your mouth. Remy had been dismissive when you asked him what it felt like to charge something, though you figure he had been exasperated by your own explanation of your ability. You doubt he would have known what it felt like to be torn asunder with only the kinetic lightning crackling through him.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

You think about Remy, for a moment. You think about the apartment that you both signed the lease on, furnished with a thief’s eye of luxury, cluttered with the little bits of memorabilia and creature comforts you curated over the years. You think about the cats that Remy dotes on, your own cats by marriage, all curled up in their favorite spots around the two of you. You think about the couch that you had teased Remy about for the price, only for him to turn around and gloat about the amount of naps you took on it. You think about the movie nights with you two intertwined on that couch, the cats pressed into your sides, the room dim-lit and safe.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

You think about how you would like to do that, again. To be able to sit on the couch with your husband and watch a movie. To be with Remy, and not be caught in this web of unraveling agony.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

Like a loose thread, you unravel.

Shuffle.

It starts in your hands, with your fingertips, and it spreads from there.

Draw.

Your eyesight goes last.

Pull.

You see Remy in every lifetime, looking at you, his outline glimmering with that kinetic violet light. His mouth is moving. It almost looks like your name.

Shuffle…

Nothing comes to your mind. Everything comes into pitch black.

Shuffle…

Your hands are empty.

Shuffle…

Time is empty, now absent when it once was vast. You had been infinite, once. Like time, you had been endless.

Shuffle…

You had been lost before you knew what it felt like to be seen. You could never be sure what timeline was originally yours before you switched them. Even the smallest of details could escape your attention if you weren’t looking for it. At a certain point, you realized you had to choose a life to claim as yours and stop wandering. Even a Wayfarer needed an anchor to call home for when it was time to rest.

Draw.

You had wandered for a long time. Years, perhaps, though your physical bodies changed shape and form in ways you couldn’t predict. The face in the mirror had never been home, anyway. There were too many genetic variables to each timeline to preserve the way you looked. Your body was merely a temporary housing for your time-stepping mind. A body was not an anchor. It was simply a tool to be used and discarded.

Pull.

An anchor needs to be constant. It needs to be something that will not retreat when time grows teeth and begins to hurt. It needs to be loyal to the cause. It needs to be kind, deep down, even if the surface is skin-deep careless. It needs to make you feel safe.

It’s… warm. Soft.

You bury your face deeper into the pillow with a long, blissful sigh. You will never regret insisting that you splurge and spend the extra money on a memory foam mattress. It feels like floating in the clouds.

A soft, questioning mmrph rumbles next to your ear. It’s your only warning before a small, wet nose presses to your temple. You know it’s Oliver by the way he starts to knead at the pillow next to your head, purring a roaring chorus. There’s another weight on your legs, pinning them down, and a third is nestled into your side. Remy must be up, already, if they’re all stuck to you for warmth.

“Did your father abandon us again, boys?” You mumble sleepily. Oliver purrs louder at the sound of your voice. You can feel the weight on your legs shift, no doubt being that it’s Lucifer standing up to stretch before he starts to walk up the length of your body. He’s purring, too, though he resettles on the spot between your shoulder blades, the hum of his purr radiating across your back. Figaro doesn’t grace you with an acknowledgement, but neither does he unfurl himself from his spot next to your side.

Warm, soft, and safely nestled amongst your cats. It’s nearly heaven. You end up half-dozing back off, lulled to sleep by the purring next to your ear. You feel like you haven’t slept in a lifetime.

You don’t hear the door open, though you know something is wrong by the way Figaro leaps to attention and Oliver’s purr stutters to a stop.

When you open your eyes, it’s half-lit by the morning sun. It must be closer to noon than the time that you usually wake to train. Any trace of lingering sleep drifts away when the bedroom door creeps open with its usual squall of hinges.

You smile and twist to look over your shoulder, dislodging Lucifer despite his soft sound of discontent, and yawn, “Morning. I think.”

Remy is posed in the doorway. Your next words die in your throat as you see the look on his face, the staff still gripped tightly in his hand. He’s dressed in his usual armor, not his civilian clothing like you expected. His hair is longer, tied back carelessly from his face, flyaway strands curling around his temples. His eyes are near-black, both through his irises and the dark shadows collecting beneath them.

He looks like he has spent years surviving an apocalypse.

“Jesus, Remy,” you breathe. You’re sitting up in an instant, one hand out reaching towards him. His armor is dust-streaked and worn from battle. “Are you hurt?”

“Where’d you go, chér?” He rasps. His face is still utterly, terrifyingly still. You have never seen him at the brink of collapse like this, before. He looks like he wants to step further in the room, his hand twitching with a nervous tic of adrenaline, but he stays stock-still. Waiting for you.

“Nowhere,” you say softly. “I’ve been in bed with the boys, love.”

You have to resist the urge to spring out of bed and run your hands along his body to look for any sign of injury. You aren’t entirely sure what’s gotten into him, but if he’s hallucinating or delirious, you should probably reach out to the other X-Men. Maybe the professor would know why Remy’s in full gear and looking battle-worn at this hour. Why would he go without waking you first?

Remy wavers. He looks heartsick. “Don’ lie t’me, chér.”

“Never,” you agree. You offer the spot next to you in bed with a half-pleading, half-alluring gesture. “Come here. You look like hell, Remy.”

“You…” he starts, then stops. Abruptly, he drops his staff with a rattling thud. Within three strides, he’s in your arms, melting into your embrace. You clutch at him just as fiercely, burying your nose into the crown of his hair. He smells like smoke and dust, but there’s no indication of blood and pain. He simply sags in your grip, his breathing quick and unsteady against your collarbone. His fingers curl weakly into the back of your nightshirt, as if that’s all the strength he can muster.

He’s mumbling, even with his face pressed tightly to the curve of your throat, but you can’t make out much more than your name, over and over.

“Shh, Remy, I’m right here with you,” you whisper against his crown. With a free hand, you reach up to pull out the elastic band holding up his hair, letting it fall in uneven waves. When was the last time he took care of himself? Your Remy loved to indulge in fine-smelling soaps and lavish hair routines, surrounding himself in a luxury he earned himself. His appearance was just as much armor as his coat was. You had never been fooled by his demeanor: his weapon of charm was just as sharply honed as his weapon of playing cards.

Yet it’s the length of his hair that sours the back of your throat with nausea. You run your fingers through it, slowly massaging his scalp in the way that makes him pliant and sleepy. It’s not that you haven’t seen Remy with long hair before; it’s simply the fact that you haven’t seen him with long hair in years. Just last night, his hair had been just long enough to curl at the nape of his neck. You had run your fingers through it and mentioned a haircut, and he had been a deadweight in your lap, humming sleepily in acknowledgement.

You swallow thickly. Either this is not the same Remy you went to sleep next to the night before… or you are missing time.

“You should take a bath, love,” you murmur, gently scratching his scalp. You can feel smudged wetness on the collar of your nightshirt from tears, though he hasn’t made a sound other than a few deep, unsteady breaths. Back when you first got together during missions, the shower was the first place you two could unwind and start to sort through your fading adrenaline rush.

He pulls back from your embrace, just a little, and every word of encouragement dies in your throat at the look on his face. Rage. Betrayal.

Heartbreak.

“You been gon’ awhile, chér,” he says. It’s not an accusation, but there’s a simmering anger beneath that matter-of-fact tone. It’s always ‘chér’ when he doesn’t know which version you are. His eyes burn through you, intent on stripping you raw. You wonder what answers he could possibly expect from you. If it’s answers he wants at all, or rather an apology.

You have to offer him something.

“I —”

“Gambit go lookin’ for you,” he laughs, mirthless. “Got him spending two years lookin’ and you jus’ show up in bed. Like nothin’ happen.”

Two years. There’s a small itch in the back of your mind, like the whisper of a memory raking its claws down your back. There had been an unraveling. Utter destruction. Then it had been you here, you waking up in bed as if nothing had happened.

You blink back at him, struck speechless. You don’t have to offer a word, though, because there’s true anger in his eyes, now.

“I go to de Void,” he says. “I t’ink that’s what it was. Nothin’ left there. Dere’s no life around, hein? Mais, non, not even my wife, only the dead. Ev’rybody dead.”

 His eyes close as if he can ward away the images tormenting his memories. You’re grateful that he can’t see the way your face crumples at that. He went back for you. He had survived the wound, and he found a way back to come for you.

And he had found nothing but death.

“You’re such an idiot,” you choke out. His eyes snap open at that, but you merely cup his face in your hands and draw him in to bump your forehead against his, sucking in a shuddering breath. He is warm and alive under your touch. You didn’t think you could touch him like this again when Nova had been standing above you, prepared to tear you in shreds. “I sent you ahead, but I was coming with you.”

“We stay together,” he tells you. There’s a strain in his voice just as painful as yours, but the way he reaches up to swipe away a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb is careful. As if he’s marveling that he has the chance to touch you at all. “Mais la, don’ tell Gambit he wrote up those vows for nothin’, Mrs. LeBeau.”

“Matched pair,” you whisper back.

“Couple’a aces,” he agrees, and he kisses you just as gently as he wiped away your tears, as if you have all the time in the world.

[skyward-floored]

Swapped (Part 4)

Finally an update haha. Back to the first group again! And we finally see what’s up with Legend :)

Mild body horror warning, but it’s very brief and not too intense.

First | Previous | Next (coming soon)

————————————————————

Everything was so loud.

Warriors adjusted his grip on Legend as he walked, wincing as his nephew breathed in his ear. He resisted the urge to curl up on the ground again with his hands to his head, but it was a close thing.

He didn’t know how Twilight handled it. He could hear every step he and Wind took, every rustle of their clothes, every distant footstep. He could even hear Legend’s heart beating, and Wind’s too if he focused really hard.

And that wasn’t even getting into how he could smell twice as many things now either.

Warriors breathed in, and out again, trying to let the noise fade to the background. Things weren’t as bad as they were when he’d first woken up, but he still felt raw, every sense overly sensitive, and achy from the whole turning into a wolf thing as well.

...he was still trying to wrap his head around that.

Warriors hiked Legend up on his back a little further when he slipped a bit, his nephew’s head flopping against his shoulder. Wind was jogging beside him, face pinched with poorly-hidden anxiety, and when he saw Warriors adjust his brother, the worry only grew on his face.

“Why do you think he’s still asleep?” he asked in a low voice. Warriors appreciated that.

“I don’t know.” Warriors sighed as he ran a hand over Legend’s head yet again, feeling for an injury that wasn’t there.

Legend had been entirely unresponsive ever since the explosion, though his breathing was steady and he bore no injuries that Warriors could find. He was just pale, and wouldn’t wake up, no matter what they did. Warriors wouldn’t have expected Legend of all people would be so sensitive to an energy pulse like they’d experienced, but he supposed it made sense it would hit some of them harder than others.

Sort of like how the smell of every single sweaty guard we sneak past is hitting harder than other smells. Ugh.

Wind and Warriors reached a stairwell, and paused to make sure nobody was coming through the door before slipping through. The elevator technically would’ve been faster, but it didn’t afford them as much maneuverability in regards to sneaking around.

Plus while Wind had managed to get Time’s powers under control for the moment, Warriors wasn’t too keen on being in a small, easily-destroyable space with him right now.

“I hope he’s okay,” Wind said quietly, gently touching Legend’s head as they slipped into the stairwell. “You don’t think this is... permanent, do you Warriors?”

“No. I bet he’ll wake up soon,” Warriors said with well-practiced confidence. “It just must have hit him harder than us for some reason.”

He had some theories about that actually, but wouldn’t know for sure unless Legend woke up.

When he wakes up. When.

Wind nodded, then hesitated, his expression looking as worried as it had when Warriors had first woken up. “...do you think our powers got swapped permanently?”

Ice slipped into Warriors’s stomach, but he shook his head as they began to climb. “No way. if they can get swapped like this, then they can get swapped back.”

They have to.

Wind didn’t say anything further, and they climbed in silence up the stairs. The building didn’t have too many floors, and Warriors did keep in shape, but carrying a teenager up several flights would leave anyone a bit breathless. Especially someone who was still trying to shake off the effects of having his powers stolen and replaced.

No, not replaced, just switched, he firmly reminded himself. We’ll get them back.

Something beside their own footsteps suddenly caught his attention, and Warriors motioned for Wind to stop, listening intently.

His nephew froze, and Warriors pricked his ears.

...Footsteps.

Headed their way.

Warriors hissed under his breath and resumed climbing, Wind hurrying after him. He had no measure for how far off the steps were, but they were getting louder.

He heard a voice above them say something about intruders, and Warriors grabbed Wind, pulling him through a door that led to the floor below the one they were aiming for. The same voice shouted behind them, and he and Wind ran down the sleek hallway they’d found themselves in, picking a random door and trying to run inside.

It was locked though, and Wind gave Warriors a panicked look.

“Use the powers, see if you can pull it open,” Warriors said, and Wind moved in front of him, scrunching his face up as he concentrated. It took him much longer then it would have taken Time, but eventually his eyes began to glow, and markings stretched across his face as he grew in height, and Wind grabbed the handle of the door, giving it a sharp yank.

It broke off in his hand, but the door cracked open, and Wind jammed the handle back in the hole before he and Warriors bolted inside.

Wind carefully shut it, and the two held their breath as footsteps pounded past mere moments later. But apparently the guards didn’t think to check a room they’d thought was locked, and soon enough even Warriors couldn’t hear them anymore.

“I think they’re gone,” Warriors said softly, and Wind exhaled, leaning against the wall as he dropped Time’s powers.

“Good. I didn’t really want to fight them.”

He slid to the floor, looking tired, and Warriors remembered suddenly that Time’s powers were rather wearing on the user. His brother was used to them, so he didn’t often think about it, but Wind had had them for less than an hour.

Warriors sighed and sat beside him, gently pulling Legend off his back and holding him in his arms instead. Legend didn’t react, and Wind looked down at him, worried and tired.

“C’mere,” Warriors said at the look on his face, and Wind scooted closer to him, resting his head on his shoulder. “Chin up, kiddo. We’ll give those guys out there a few minutes to leave, then make our way to the jerky scientist who did this. And make him fix it.”

Wind nodded, a determined look on his face, and they rested in silence for a few minutes, Wind and Warriors catching their breath, Legend still unmoving.

“You really think he’ll be okay?” Wind said quietly.

“I do. A hundred percent.”

Footsteps rang out again, and suddenly there was a pounding on the door, shouting coming from the other side.

Warriors flinched at the noise, and quickly pulled Legend back up onto his back as he stood. Wind jumped to his feet, looking anxiously at the door, and Warriors scanned the room they were in, hoping for something useful.

It looked like they’d just landed in some kind of conference room though, unused at that, and there wasn’t so much as a potted plant they could use to their advantage.

“Warriors?” Wind said in a voice he was obviously fighting to keep level.

“We can take them,” Warriors reassured, ignoring the way each noise from outside made him want to tear his ears off. “We handled those other guys, we’ll be fine.”

A loud bang came from the door, and Warriors flinched, unable to resist covering his ears.

“What’s the plan?” Wind asked, a determined look settling on his face, and Warriors looked around, mind going into overdrive.

That was an excellent question.

The room had no other exits, apart from the giant window behind them, but that wouldn’t end well since they were several stories up. The vent in the ceiling would only work for Wind— Warriors was too big, and Legend would be nearly impossible to pull through. The door was their only way out.

“...Looks like we’ll have to fight our way through.”

Another loud bang came from the door, and Warriors flinched and stood next to Wind, getting into a ready position. He glanced back at Legend, wondering if he should set him somewhere safe, but then Legend moved.

Warriors and Wind both froze.

“Legend?!”

Legend’s eyes shot open with a gasp, and Warriors nearly dropped him, the abrupt noise making his ears ring.

“Legend!” Wind gasped, but neither he nor Warriors had the time to try and talk to him, since the door finally got beaten down.

Guards began to pour in, but before anyone could do anything, Legend made a strange noise, almost choked-sounding. Warriors jerked his head around to look at him, but then Legend let out a loud cry, and a blinding light flashed in the room.

Warriors was sent reeling from both the noise and light, and the guards were stunned by it as well, startled by the brightness. Spots flickered in Warriors’s vision, and he blinked rapidly as they faded, trying to clear it. He gripped tightly to Legend so he wouldn’t fall off of his back, and looked around as his vision finally began to clear.

Then he stared at the other Legend sitting and blinking in front of him, outfit a bright blue.

“Oh my gosh. He got Four’s,” Wind breathed beside him.

Warriors gave a quick look around the room, spotting two more Legends lying prone on the ground, purple and reddish-pink. There was one more on his back still, but Warriors didn’t have time to check the color since the guards had recovered.

They went back to charging at them, and Wind jumped in front, already using Time’s powers to keep them away.

“Keep him safe!” Wind cried, voice echoing, and Warriors nodded, then harshly shook his head, trying to focus past the cacophony of sounds ringing in his ears.

“Don’t need to!” the blue Legend shouted back, then stumbled to his feet, glaring at the guards. “I’m fine!”

His statement was proved wrong seconds later when he immediately toppled back to the ground, and Warriors jogged over to him, offering him a hand up.

The blue Legend took one look and slapped it away. “I don’t need your help freezer-burn!”

“You can’t walk and we’re trying to get out of here, take my hand,” Warriors snapped. He didn’t want to be short with Legend, especially with the state he must be in at the moment, but his head was pounding more by the minute and the sooner they all got out of here the better.

Blue Legend glared, but finally took his hand, allowing Warriors to help him up and support him. They quickly moved over to the purple Legend, who was struggling to sit up, flexing his fingers with a confused look on his face.

“I have a lot of questions,” he mumbled, and Warriors nodded.

“I’m sure you do, but right now we need to get—”

The pounding in Warriors’s head grew to an impossible degree, and he stumbled to a knee, hissing through his teeth as he felt the rest of his powers trying to activate. Oh come on not now, please not—

Warriors’s vision went dark, and his body twisted and cracked itself into a different configuration. His face elongated as his body shifted, fur sprouting up and spreading over him as he held back a cry. It was only a few seconds, but Warriors still had to catch his breath as it finished, his bones aching.

He raised his head, panting, and saw the purple and blue Legends staring at him.

“...I now have even more questions,” the purple Legend said in bewilderment.

Warriors growled, hoping it would be taken as an it’ll have to wait, and gestured for him and the blue Legend to get on his back.

Either they didn’t want to argue with a wolf, or finally realized just how messy the situation was, because neither of them argued as they climbed up onto Warriors’s back. The other Legend was still up there as well, and Warriors made sure all three weren’t going to fall off before he trotted over to the reddish-pink Legend.

This one was shivering as he stared at his hands, chest heaving with frantic breaths, and at Warriors’s soft bark, he jumped, eyes teary.

“Twi? I don’t kn-know what’s going on,” he whimpered, and the blue Legend snorted.

“Join the club! Anyone want to explain why are there four of me? Or why you’re a wolf? And why are you pink?” he yelled, and Warriors couldn’t help his whine, pinning his ears back at the noise.

“I don’t know!” the pinkish one wailed, and Warriors woofed, trying to get him to calm down. Oh, what is it that Twilight always does...

Warriors moved forward and nuzzled him, and the pinkish Legend stilled, sniffling a little as he looked at him.

“Why’s Twilight blueish?” he asked as he gently stroked his fur, and the blue Legend grumbled.

“It’s not Twilight, it’s Warriors, and no I don’t know what’s going on. Get up here.”

The pinkish Legend petted Warriors for a moment longer, then wobbled to his feet, using Warriors to support himself. With all of the Legends accounted for and relatively safe, Warriors turned his attention back to Wind.

Who seemed to be having absolutely no trouble beating up the guards.

One went flying past them, crashing into the table and landing in a motionless heap, and Warriors stared. Wind was fighting with an unusual ferocity, teeth bared and eyes glowing.

He took out three guards at once with a swing of his fist, and snarled when another tried to charge him. Knocking the weapons out of two others hands, he then smacked their heads together, sending them crumpling to the floor.

The single man who was still left standing slowly backed away, then bolted out of the room.

“...Whoa,” one of the Legends whispered.

Warriors cautiously trotted his way over, the room almost weirdly silent now, and Wind turned around and looked at them all, his eyes blazing with light.

“That’s not Dad, is it,” the purple Legend said quietly, and Warriors nodded.

He was silent for a moment, Wind still standing motionlessly in front of them, and Warriors was running wildly through different plans in his mind, wondering what he could do to snap Wind out of the power rush he was doubtlessly experiencing. Why couldn’t he talk as a wolf?!

“Link,” the purple Legend spoke up, and Wind panted as his gaze shifted to him. “Relax, they’re done.”

Wind swallowed, and abruptly dropped Time’s powers, wobbling a little but staying upright. Warriors quickly moved to support him as well, and they all just stood there for a moment, catching their breath and processing what exactly had happened.

“Thanks,” Wind whispered, and Warriors chuffed softly in reply.

“So. Wind is Dad, Warriors is Twilight, and this just keeps getting weirder!” the blue Legend yelled. “Not to mention whatever is up with me!”

“You mean us,” the purple one corrected.

“Ugh whatever!”

“Our powers got swapped,” Wind said, still gulping in air. He looked a little dizzy, and Warriors gently nuzzled him. Wind petted him in return. “The scientist screwed things up with that explosion, if you remember that.”

“Ah... yeah that would explain some things,” the purple one said, and the pinkish one moaned, slipping off of Warriors and burying his head in his knees.

“I don’t want to be four people,” he whimpered.

“Well I don’t either, suck it up,” the blue one snapped. “How is this even possible?!”

“Quiet down, Warriors’s hearing is extra-sensitive,” Wind said with a glare, and though the blue Legend glared back, he did lower his voice when he spoke again.

“How do we fix it?”

“We were working on that,” Wind huffed, toeing a guard’s arm away from him. “We were going to head to the top floor and hope we ran into the others on the way. And make the scientist give our powers back.”

“We got separated, huh?” the purple one asked, and Wind nodded, and explained about the radios being out as well. “Hm. That makes things difficult.”

“You’re telling me,” Wind sighed.

Warriors barked then, catching everyone’s attention. Once he was sure they were all looking, he jerked his head in the direction of the door, giving his nephews a pointed look.

“You want us to get going?” Wind asked, and Warriors nodded. They shouldn’t stick around in one place longer than necessary.

“Good idea. That straggler was probably going for reinforcements,” the purple Legend said with a grimace, and Warriors heard a groan from his back. “Oh, the green one’s waking up.”

“Took him long enough,” the blue Legend grumbled.

Wind moved over to Warriors’ back, and Warriors heard another groan from behind him. “Legend? Er, green Legend? You with us?”

“Y... yeah...” a voice mumbled, sounding pained. “Wait, why... green Legend..?”

“Because I’m blue and he’s purple and that one is pinkish,” the blue Legend said with a smirk.

Warriors couldn’t see the green one’s face, but he knew Legend well enough to guess at the expression he was making.

“And there’s... four of me now... why?” he asked slowly.

“Our powers got swapped. You got Four’s, I have Dad’s, Warriors has Twi’s, and we’re on our way to stop the jerky scientist who did it,” Wind summarized.

“...oh.”

Warriors let out another pointed woof, and Wind nodded. “Right. We need to get going. Are you guys all... okay?”

“I’m fine,” blue Legend said, and slipped off Warriors’s back. Warriors didn’t miss the way he stumbled though, and he frowned. All the colors of Legend that he could see were still pale, and even the purple one, who seemed the most steady of the group, looked rather shaken. Maybe they should leave Legend hidden here while he and Wind went and faced the scientist...

“I know what you’re thinking, you’re not leaving us here,” the purple Legend said, giving Warriors a look.

Warriors huffed, wishing he could argue his point. Unfortunately his head was pounding so much he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus enough to turn back so he could speak, and his skill in that area was still a little shaky anyway. So he settled with giving the purple Legend a small growl in return.

“We’ll need their help, Warriors,” Wind pointed out. “And leaving them here wouldn’t be very safe either. It’s better they come with us.”

Warriors couldn’t help the soft whine he let out at the thought of taking a splintered and weakened Legend into a dangerous fight, but he knew Wind was right. They couldn’t leave him here alone and vulnerable.

Though, would it even technically be leaving him alone since there are four of him?

“He’s right... you’ll need us,” the green Legend said, voice a little stronger, but still weak.

“Darn right. And I want a chance to wail on this jerk,” blue Legend snarled, pounding a fist into his palm. “He can’t just swap our powers around and expect us not to fight back.”

“I want to help too,” the pinkish one chimed in. “And I... don’t want to stay here alone.”

Warriors sighed, and gave them all a nod. All right, all right. I guess we’re all going.

But I don’t like it.

He tilted his head towards the door, and Wind helped the pinkish Legend stand up, the blue and purple ones joining him as they headed towards the door. Warriors felt a hand gripping tight to his fur, and he looked back at the green Legend, his face pale but determined.

Warriors swallowed, and followed the rest of the group back out into the hallway.

Please let this not be a mistake.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I hope you all are having a good day or night. I was wondering if you could please help me find if there are there any NSFW body swap fics?

Hey. Here are some explicit bodyswap fics...

irresistible by lovserssclub (E)

In which Aziraphale can't help but admire Crowley's body before they switch back to their own vessels, and it turns out Crowley returned the sentiment with the angel's own body.

reflect what you are, in case you don't know by noodlefrog (E)

Nothing could ever compare to this, because while it was his body he was watching, it wasn’t him. Yes, those were his own hands, and it was his own blood that painted those cheeks and chest in a heated blush. It was his stomach and his throat betraying the jagged breaths in his lungs… but it wasn’t Crowley. As much as watching this felt like watching himself in a mirror, he could see his husband in every gesture and hear him in every sigh and gasp. It didn’t matter what body he wore. He would know Aziraphale anywhere.

Going Down, Going Up by vgersix (E)

Aziraphale's eyes darted, nervous under the quiet scrutiny. "You're at least 90% leg, do you know that?" He said, hugging the bundle of clothing a bit closer to his chest. "Don't know how you walk in this thing." "It's more of an upright slither, really," Crowley mused, taking in the angular lines of his own face. Bit pretty, those cheekbones, even if he did say so himself. "I see. So..." Aziraphale trailed off. He was suddenly very distracted by the intense blue of Crowley's eyes. Because of course, technically speaking, they were Crowley's eyes, it was just that at the moment… they looked exactly like Aziraphale's own eyes. The ones he'd been wearing for the last 6000 years, anyway.

It's the wine by chamyl (E)

On a drunken night, Aziraphale and Crowley decide to have some fun switching bodies and playing dress up. Side effects might include: seeing yourself in a new light, seeing your lover in a new light, generating a lot of general confusion, enjoying yourself a little bit too much.

Harmless Games Went To My Head (Now I Want You Breathing Down My Neck) by GardenOf_x (E)

“Here’s a thought,” he said, drawing Aziraphale’s attention away from the window. “What’s the first thing you’re going to do with me when you get to my place?” Aziraphale glanced down at himself in Crowley’s body as if he’d forgotten, a slight flush creeping up his neck that was so characteristically him that it looked almost obscene on his own skin. “Nothing. I won’t be doing anything with you… I mean, me.” (Or a lesson in how an almost innocent joke can get very out of hand, very quickly.)

call me. by starknight (E)

Not for the first time, Aziraphale tells himself to stop. He should go back to the tea - he’d have to make it again now, he’s been staring at Crowley’s reflection for too long - and settle down for a long quiet reading session. Perfect. Instead, Aziraphale sticks two of Crowley’s fingers into his mouth and moans at the sight. In which an angel and a demon swap bodies, and possibly enjoy themselves a little too much.

- Mod D

[dairy-farmer]

Dick and Jason run afoul of some sort of universe swapping plot device. The timing is really poor.

See, Tim’s heat is due, well, tonight. And since Jason’s rut always starts a day after Tim’s heat, and Dick’s rut comes a day or two after that, the three of them have come to an arrangement. One where Jason and Dick spend the better part of a week and a half fucking Tim’s brains out well past the point where he cannot walk.

So they make a beeline to Tim’s nest. Either he’ll be smart enough to figure out how to get everyone back home before their cycles hit, or maybe they can fill in for the original Jason and Dick for Tim’s heat.

Except they get there and notice that something’s different. Tim’s not an omega. Tim’s not… anything. They quickly realize that this world doesn’t have designations. Tim’s heat’s not coming but their rut sure is.

Some quick explanation and Tim offers to help them out. It’s either that or try to explain the whole knotting thing to some sex workers, and nobody wants that. And Tim has been quietly lusting after his Dick and Jason for ages, so if he can’t have them at least he can have a different version of them.

Jason and Dick are happy to fuck any version of Tim. They unfortunately weren’t the first ones to knot their Tim, but this Tim has definitely never had a knot in his cunt before.

Tim was…unprepared for how big their knots were going to be. It takes a lot of stretching but they eventually make it work. It’s not painful, but honestly he would’ve been fine without it. And the amount of come… he could’ve almost drowned in it. He’s ecstatic with the rest of the sex though, and the amount of attention and care plied on him.

…

Human Dick and Jason have the same idea as their alpha counterparts, at least about going to Tim’s nest. They don’t have the right receptors so they can’t smell the heat scent Tim’s nest is saturated in. They do find their cocks stirring a bit from the unnoticed hormones, but they both have gotten used to suppressing their desire for Tim.

What they’re not used to though, is a naked, panting, needy Tim jumping them as soon as they get inside, pawing at them to get their clothes off. At first they think it’s pollen, but Tim’s heat is just getting going so he’s able to explain enough that Dick can quick look into this whole strange reproductive cycle thing on Tim’s computer.

And when Jason and Dick realize exactly what Tim is eagerly asking for, what he needs from them, well they can’t exactly say no. And they’ve wanted their Tim for so long but he’s never shown any interest in them so this might be their only chance. He’s flushed and needy and whining for their cocks. They never thought they’d ever see Tim like this.

They can’t knot Tim like he’s used too, but Dick’s always had a short refractory period, and the Pit has done the same to Jason-as well as make him come a lot. With their lack of knots they can both have him at the same time. When Tim’s really sobbing for a knot, they have to pump him full and plug him up-with toys, with heat aids, with their fists. It’s an amazing sight. Even so, they can barely keep up with Tim’s needs. They love it even though it’s exhausting, and a little chafing.

…

When the heat and their ruts are over, and everyone gets back to their own universes probably via a Tim built plot device, human Tim has a lot harder time keeping his desires and his blushes hidden. And now that Jason and Dick have finally had a taste of Timmy’s sweet sweet pussy, they’re not going to let him hide away any longer.

Meanwhile, the alphas are a little put out that their omega had to rely on someone else for his heat. Sure, he was sort of technically fucked by them, but THEY weren’t the ones doing it. They decide they need to remind Timmy who he belongs to. They drowned human Tim in their come so it’s time to do the same to their omega.

universe swap with an omegaverse would be WILD- jason and dick realizing humans have entirely different biology in that universe but its not enough to put them off from fucking tim ❤️❤️❤️!!!

then the omegaverse versions of themselves fucking tim in a way that he will literally never be able to replicate and even giving him some new kinks❤️❤️❤️!!

[imagining-in-the-margins]

CM Meet Cute (or not) Challenge 📚☕️

The following are prompts including a Meet Cute/Ugly scenario (any first-time-meeting)! Reader or OC, Gen/Platonic, AND Character/Character fics are allowed!

This event is over (Masterlist of Fics here), but you are welcome to use any of these prompts. If you would like to be added to the existing Masterlist of entries, please check out the Rules below!

☕️ Generic Prompts 📚

Character gets locked out and their neighbor picks the lock for them.

Characters get the same coffee order. They both reach for it at the same time.

Characters get paired up at the work event icebreaker.

Characters both duck for cover under the same tiny storefront when it starts pouring.

Character is knocked into a stranger’s lap on the bus.

Characters are both stood up at the same date spot.

Character sits next to a stranger in the theater, but the two end up bonding when there’s a technical glitch.

On Character’s first day at the new job, they get stuck on the elevator with their new coworker.

Character breaks their heel/slips on the way into their new job. Their new coworker manages to catch them.

Character accidentally dumps their coffee on someone in a very dramatic fashion.

Character accidentally causes someone to slip and fall. They try to help them up, but they both fall down.

Characters are sat together on a long train ride.

Characters are on rival teams at a work event.

Characters reach for the same book at the library.

Character sits next to someone at an academic conference. They get way too excited about a topic that’s taboo/uncouth to normal people.

Character accidentally messages the wrong number. A stranger answers.

Character offers unsolicited fashion advice to a stranger in the dressing room.

Characters wear matching masks at a masquerade party.

It isn’t a meet cute at all. They know each other already but they don’t notice for an embarrassingly long time.

Character realized they left a piece of clothing in the laundromat but when they return, someone’s already started a load. The pair wait for it to finish together.

Character accidentally bumps into someone’s car in a parking lot. They are very upset… until they realize how cute the other one is.

Anything else you can think of!

🍄 Autumn Prompts 🍁

Character gets lost in a corn maze… meant for children. They begrudgingly ask a total stranger, for help.

Character fight over a perfect pumpkin at the patch and explain why each of them needs it.

Characters show up in an accidental couples’ costume.

Character tries to scare their friend, but ends up spooking a complete stranger.

Character steps on a stranger’s shoe… and realizes they are dressed like Cinderella.

Character accidentally gets hurt in a spooky attraction and a scare actor breaks character to help.

Character gets scared in a haunted tour and jumps in the arms of someone they think is their friend—but it’s not.

Character thinks someone is in a costume and tries to guess what it is. They’re not in a costume.

🫣 Dialogue Prompts 😅

“Hey, sorry, can I give you my number?” “What?” “Oh, not like that—I lost my phone.”

“My kid thinks you’re a real princess. Would you mind taking a photo with them?”

“I think we accidentally swapped orders. By the way, what the hell is in this?”

“Hey, would you mind talking to me so this creep will leave me alone?”

“Is it possible to actually die from embarrassment?”

“I definitely would have remembered meeting you.”

“Watch where you’re going!” “… You ran into me?!”

“That diamond is fake.” “So is the engagement.”

“You aren’t some crazy serial killer, right?”

“Do you believe in fate?”

“This is way too cliche.”

Rules 📚

The fic can be a Reader insert, an Original Character, a character/character ship, a platonic ship, or a Gen fic. It can feature any Criminal Minds character. AUs are more than welcome.

Tag me in the fic, or send the link to me in a Direct Message. It can be already written, or you can write it for the challenge - I’m collecting both! You can also tag it “#mentioningmargins” which is a tag I track.

The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I DO NOT WANT smut written by minors. Ever. At all. I will check. Platonic ships and pure, fluffy fics are 100% allowed.

Please include Content Warnings and a one-sentence Summary of the fic in your post.

Have fun!

Happy Writing!

[dan-whoell]

rebrand

Word count: 3915

Phil makes some changes and meets a boy named Dan.

Read on AO3

There’s a boy in Phil’s bed.

It’s Saturday morning and there’s a boy in his bed and he can only half remember how they got there. He knows it started late on Thursday night, scrolling through an ex-friend’s instagram, watching the two of them grow up side by side until it was only one of them changing. Not ex-friend in the sense that it ended particularly badly, but in the sense that phone calls and texts came less often, because as people grow older they often grow apart. They become different people and that’s just life, isn’t it? The friend cut his hair, started wearing proper adult clothes, has a beard. (Phil had one too, for a while, but then he no longer wanted to string someone along like that and so they broke up. He’s pretty sure she’s engaged now.) He watched years pass and appear in his friend’s face, and he watched himself plateau, stay exactly the same and never step outside of his comfort zone. Easier to remain perpetually a child than realize his evolution was wrong.

He has other friends, acquaintances, and they make jokes about how he hasn’t changed in over a decade. Okay, fine, his hair has gotten the tiniest bit shorter but it’s still the same style. A graphic tee and skinny jeans? Groundbreaking. He swapped his old shoes for converses that have rainbows on the soles, but he makes sure to keep his feet on the ground, always. It normally doesn’t bother him. Sure, there’s been an itch under his skin for several years now, a prickling sensation when yet another person claims to know him. That doesn’t mean that he isn’t fine. He is fine. He’s great. The itch comes and he ignores it and things continue on.

But that night. That night he let himself scratch it, nails digging into soil beneath his skin, down and down and down until he unearthed a version of himself that he’d long since buried. A version that was open, outspoken, unapologetic. A version that saw opportunities and seized them. A version that never asked can I but only how will I. 

He thought that by Friday morning the itch would be gone, the desire mentally explored enough that he could move on. It wasn’t, of course. In fact, it was so much worse than it had ever been. All of his rumination had made it seem possible. He could make changes. He had the power to call a salon and make an appointment for an hour out. He could so easily get on the train afterward and find a store full of the clothing he’s fantasized about for years. Then a bar, have some drinks, maybe even meet someone. Truly embody the kind of confidence he’s only ever dreamed about. He had the power to do anything he wanted.

There’s a boy in Phil’s bed and yes, technically speaking he knows exactly how they got there. A mental spiral and a few too many drinks can take a guy anywhere, but the details are fuzzy. He can’t remember whose idea it was first, which of them plucked up the courage to suggest spending the night together, who insisted on it being Phil’s flat that they stumbled back to. All he knows is a dimple, warm brown eyes and knees pressing into his own. Glances from strangers gave him goosebumps, but a hand on a wrist and a soft laugh in his ear drowned out everything else. A night unlike any other that Phil has experienced.

But it’s morning now, and the person beside him is a stranger. He doesn’t know what the protocol is here. His first instinct is escape, slinking off to his kitchen to make coffee and pretend like he does this all the time. Maybe the guy would get the hint and they’d avoid interaction all together. Or should he say something, wake him and tell him to get lost? That seems harsh, and besides, he’s not entirely sure he wants to say goodbye just yet. There was so much laughter last night. So much light. And maybe some of it was nerves but not all. Part of him wants to see if there could be something here, something more than one night and an awkward morning.

Phil takes a breath, leaning heavily toward running away, but then the stranger stirs, blinking and looking at Phil through his eyelashes. Christ, who gave this guy warm brown eyes like that, a vat of chocolate he could fucking drown in and say thank you for the opportunity. Add it to the list of reasons they ended up here. In Phil’s bed. In the morning.

He has to get out of here.

“Morning,” the stranger says just as Phil manages to stammer out “Coffee!”.

There’s a beat of silence between them as they stare at one another, neither of them quite sure what to say. It becomes one of those moments when someone’s brain is screaming at them to say something, anything, but there are no words available. The silence stretches, and with every passing second it just gets more awkward. This right here might actually be the longest two people in this situation have ever gone without speaking. It must be. It’s fucking excruciating, and-

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

But Phil doesn’t hear what it is the stranger didn’t mean to do, because the broken silence has propelled him from the bed, and the room, and before he even realizes he’s moving he’s in his kitchen.  Thank whatever gods above that he’d at least worn boxers to bed. God, why didn’t he think this through? How had he failed so spectacularly in his stupid personal transformation? How the fuck did he think changing his clothes and acting out of character would actually change his personality? He’s anxious by nature and he hates unfamiliar situations. Of course, bring a stranger home. That should go well.

“Good job, Phil,” he mumbles to himself, shaking ground coffee into the filter a little more enthusiastically than is strictly necessary. He ends up with dried coffee all over his counter, which is pretty par for the course this morning. “This just gets better and better.”

From behind him comes the sound of a throat clearing, and when he spins around he finds the stranger, dressed, and with a small smile on his lips. “Everything alright?”

“Oh yeah,” Phil lies, figuring it’s better than the slight breakdown truth. “Made a mess, um- do you want coffee?” He hooks a thumb toward the aforementioned mess, desperate for something to do with his hands. He’s acutely aware that he’s in boxers and nothing else. Meanwhile the guy is in dark jeans and some kind of black and white lace print button down. There’s an image in there he can’t quite make out. A skull maybe? He’s hot, is the point, and Phil is wildly undressed for the occasion. “It- It’ll be a few minutes, but you’re welcome to stay and wait.” This is another lie, Phil would very much like to have his freak out alone, thank you, but he’s not really in charge of his own words at the moment. “Not stay, I just mean- you know, wait for coffee-”

“It’s okay,” the stranger cuts him off. “I have shit to take care of this morning, but thanks.”

“Right, of course.” Of course the guy doesn’t want to stay. Why would he? “Then I guess I’ll see you later…uh-” He’d been so ready to use the guys name, used the obvious intonation. Except he can't remember the guy’s name and he just feels like an idiot.

But his ineptitude only gets him a smile. “I’m Dan.”

“Dan,” he repeats like an automatic reflex. “I knew that, too, I just-”

“Sure you did.”

“I did, it was on the tip of my tongue!”

“Believe me, I know where it was, Phil.”

There’s a beat of silence before they both dissolve into giggles, and something like relief floods through Phil. He’s okay. They’re laughing, and it suddenly feels so easy. He can relax with this guy. With Dan.

Still, he has to explain himself a little.

“I- christ, I’m sorry,” he manages . “I don’t really do this.”

“Do what?” The corner of Dan’s mouth pulls up in a crooked smile. “Bring home random guys you meet in clubs? Or have conversations with them the next morning?”

“Neither,” he admits. “I was having a weird day yesterday-”

Dan nods, and for a brief second the tiny spark of hope he’d felt flares up in his chest. “Understood. I’ll go and we can forget this ever happened.” Just like that the flame is gone, snuffed out with just a few words. What was he thinking? How did he think he could be this person? The drinks and the clothes and the-

“Oh god.” He’d forgotten. Somehow, in all of the excitement of the new confident self he’d decided on, he’d forgotten about his hair. “I’m blonde, aren’t I?”

He’s met with a raised eyebrow from the boy who said he was leaving, but hasn’t. “You are. Is this news for you?” He gestures over his shoulder. “Should I call someone? Are you having a breakdown?”

“No, I-” God, how the fuck did he get here? A crisis of self, yeah, but how did that spiral become explaining his fucking crisis to a stranger in his home? A stranger who slept in his bed and kissed him breathless and touched him so gently he thought he might melt. He owes this man some sort of an explanation, but he cant bring himself to start at the beginning. “It’s new,” he says finally, like that explains anything at all. “I just had it done yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Dan echoes, his eyebrows very nearly hitting his hairline. “You dyed your hair blonde then picked me up in a club?” Of course, Phil has to nod because that is the exact sequence of events, minus the crop top and leather jacket purchase. Dan just shakes his head. “Is this a crisis twink thing?”

“No,” Phil says quickly. Because it’s not. At least, he doesn’t think it is. His breakdown has very little to do with his sexuality he’s pretty sure. Okay, there is the undeniable fact that his breakdown directly lead to the stranger in front of him. But it’s not like he was having the breakdown about his sexuality, it was his entire existence that caused the problem, and part of the solution happened to be casual sex with a beautiful stranger. Dan is simply a side effect. Correlation, not causation. Something like that. “No, this isn’t a crisis twink thing.”

“Right…” It comes out slow, and he knows that Dan does not believe him. “Well we can unpack that later, right now I’m actually late and there are people who will kill me for such an infraction.”

Phil finds himself nodding. “Okay, yeah, don’t want to be responsible for your murder.”

It isn’t until after the door is closed and he’s all alone does he wonder what Dan meant by later. They have no way of contacting one another since they never exchanged numbers, and he can’t imagine Dan intends on randomly showing up at his door. What if Phil had some prior commitment and he won’t be home? He will be, of course, because he’s almost always home, but that’s beside the point.

It occurs to him that Dan might have said it out of habit, that he didn’t mean it literally. Yes, that has to be it. They had one night together and that was it. Odds are, he will never see Dan again.

***

A few hours later Phil’s phone buzzes in the middle of an episode of The Office. Initially he assumes it’s a family member checking on him, maybe a friend he hasn’t gotten back to recently. Basically, the usual. Instead it’s a number he doesn’t recognize but a name he does.

is dan

want to resume our earlier conversation? free therapy that’s worth what you’re paying?

??

howd you get my number?

can’t reveal my secrets unless i know you’re really cool

im very cool. remember my hair and my jacket?

i called myself from your phone after you fell asleep

why??

bc i knew we’d have that deep conversation this morning

really?

no you walnut i wanted to hook up again. then the conversation happened and now i want to see you for multiple reasons.

okay

do you want to meet somewhere?

i literally woke up next to you i already know where you live.

im at lunch now but i’ll text you when im on my way later

He sends a thumbs up then tosses his phone to the other end of the couch, hands shaking. There’s no reason for him to be so stressed out at the prospect of seeing Dan again, and yet. It dominates his thoughts all day, an ever changing monologue of what he’s going to say in regards to his mild breakdown this morning. The easy thing to do would be start at… not the beginning, exactly, but close enough. The instagram post and all the thoughts it dredged up. He won’t go into detail about every issue, or how long they’ve been going on, but he’ll give the general idea. Nonchalantly, he suddenly realized he wanted a change and he went after it. No big deal.

The important thing is that he’s prepared.

***

Some time after nine pm there’s a knock on his door, followed immediately by a text.

open up

Phil takes a deep breath, steeling himself for this. He can be cool. He can get his shit together and be a normal, regular person. He definitely knows how to do that. He starts pacing. There’s definitely not a pit of anxiety in his stomach, begging him to block Dan and pretend that he’s not home. Maybe he could move. The odds of his landlord noticing him leaving are slim, it would only become a problem when the guy doesn’t get his rent check. Could he manage pay another month and secure a new place to live? It’s possible. He could call his parents and have an extended visit, he’d figure it out-

His thought spiral is interrupted by his name being called through the door. “Phil? You know I can hear you moving around in there, right?”

Shit. Even with an entire day to have it together, he hasn’t thought it through enough. He should have said no earlier, he should have never gone out last night, he should never have let Dan think he’s someone worth getting to know. He’s too awkward and too anxious and-

Again, his name through the door. “Phil? Will you please let me in before your neighbors call the police?”

With no other choice, he opens the door to find Dan, but he’s different than he was earlier. Gone is the hot, put together guy from this morning, and in his place is a pair of black sweatpants and a black t-shirt that reads I think he’s gay with an arrow pointing up. Somehow this is even hotter than the lace print version of Dan, and Phil kind of has zero interest in exploring the state of his mental health right now. He has far more important matters on his mind.

“Hi.”

"Hi."

He doesn't know who reaches for who first, or how after one night together they've managed to get on the same wavelength where they don't even need to say words out loud to one another. But they are, and before he knows it they're horizontal on the couch, all kiss swollen mouths and wandering hands. With Dan on top of him, it's like nothing else matters, it all melts away into nothingness.

By eleven there’s a boy in Phil’s bed again.

“So,” Dan says, his head on Phil’s chest and his fingertips drawing idle patterns around Phil’s collarbone. “Are you gonna tell me about the blonde now?”

Right, the actual talking portion of this get together. He’d kind of forgotten about that part of the agreement, more interested in losing himself in sensation and fully ignoring any lurking anxieties. “It’s not as big a deal as I made it out to be. It’s just a change.” So much for his carefully prepared monologue.

“A change,” Dan echoes. “You dyed your hair blonde then took a strange man home, both things that are admittedly out of the ordinary for you. It sounds like more than just a change.”

Phil wants to ask if this is how casual hookups usually go. It had been awhile before Dan, and he’s never been great at the casual part of it all. He has a tendency to grow attached rather quickly, sometimes blowing things up bigger than they are. Making them more important than they are.

But this, the way Dan is curled into him, the way every touch is incredibly gentle and full of something akin to adoration- he can't be alone in how he's feeling. Can he? After all, Dan was the one to put the pieces together on Phil's crisis. He thinks of the text now i want to see you for multiple reasons. In twenty four hours they've made something here, and nothing good starts without the truth.

So he explains it all. The rotted ties and the instagram spiral and the itch deep under his skin. He tells Dan how he’d always wanted to go blonde, had even tried once but royally fucked it up. It happened when he was still figuring out his emo aesthetic, and it was such a brief period everyone forgets it ever happened. He feels ridiculous, pouring out all of his insecurities to this person he’s only just met, but there’s also a strange sense of peace. Dan has no preconceived ideas of him, so he can be really, genuinely honest and he doesn’t have to worry about the repercussions.

“Let me ask you this,” Dan says when he’s finished, and there’s so little judgment in his tone it’s almost jarring. He simply sounds curious. “The black emo fringe, graphic tee and skinny jeans thing- why’d you start doing it?”

Phil considers it, but the question doesn't make any sense to him. “What do you mean why?”

“Well, you started dressing a certain way when you were a teenager. Why that way? Why not a different aesthetic completely, or something like what you’re trying to achieve now?”

It still seems like a weird question, but he gives it his best shot. “Because I wanted to, I guess? I liked the look, I thought it was really cool.”

“And now you don’t.”

“No, it's still cool, it’s just-”

“Not who you are anymore.”

A beat of quiet. “Not who I want to be, I think.”

“Good news, Phil, you can be literally whoever you want. People change. You wanted to do the emo thing for a while, so you did. And now you want to do the blonde crisis twink thing, so you are. It’s fine.”

“It’s not a crisis twink thing!” he insists, but he can’t help the laugh that accompanies the protest. It dies down quickly though, thoughts of his family and friends’ reactions creeping into his head. “Is it weird that I’m worried about telling people? Like, it’s a joke that I haven’t changed, but also it’s not? I kind of feel like I should have just stuck it out, made more gradual changes.”

“It’s your life, Phil. You should be doing what you want.”

“See logically I know that, but in practice…” he lets the sentence trail off, skimming his fingertips up Dan’s arm. In practice he’s done it before, hasn’t he? He’d wanted to go blonde, so he did. He wanted new clothes, so he bought some. He wanted Dan, and now here’s Dan in his bed, encouraging him to continue being selfish. "I'm thinking about how they'll react."

"Does it matter? It's your hair." He reaches up to tousle it, knuckles dragging gently across Phil's cheekbone before his hand settles back to where it was. "You were who they wanted for long enough."

"I was who I wanted to be too, it wasn't just about them."

“At one point it was about you, and then it became about your brand-”

“No,” Phil protests . “I'm just a normal guy, I don't have a brand. ”

“Everyone has a brand, Phil. It's the way people perceive you.” Dan props himself up some, hand sliding from Phil's collarbone to his sternum, right in the middle of his chest. “Here's the thing, right, no one actually knows another person, they only know their idea of them. We get the bones of someone, standard facts and childhood stories or whatever, and then we fill in all the gaps. But we're just making shit up. We might get it close but it's never a true representation of who that person is.”

The way Dan presents it, he finds it hard to disagree. But. “What's that got to do with me treating myself like a brand?”

“You figured out how people fill you in, and now you're scared to tell them they're wrong. It sounds like you're doing the opposite, like you're leaning into the idea they have of you even though it's not who you really are.”

Phil cannot speak. The weight of Dan's hand feels enormous, pressing down into his heart.  How is it that Dan, a virtual stranger, has cut so succinctly into him when friends he's had for years can't see it? Maybe it’s simply a matter of Dan’s outside perspective, maybe it would be just as obvious to anyone else hearing Phil’s story. Maybe his friends are too close to see him objectively. Maybe Dan is extremely observant and it’s a total coincidence that they’ve stumbled upon each other.

Maybe it’s more than that.

“To be honest,” he manages to say “I’m not sure I actually know who I am.”

Dan does not miss a beat. “You’re the person who picks up random guys in clubs then pours your heart out to them the next night,” he says, grinning. “And you’re blonde while you do it.

It cuts the tension in him like a hot knife through butter.“I am not the pick up random guys guy, I promise you,” he says, the words coming out around a scoff.

“Oh no?” Dan dips his head, ghosting his lips along Phil's jaw. “What makes me special then?

Truthfully, Phil doesn’t know the answer. But it is an accurate statement. Dan is special, somehow sees past the brand as it were and into Phil’s heart, right under where he has his hand. “I don’t know,” he says. “Glad it happened though.”

“Where else are you gonna get a free private therapist who will also have sex with you?”

“I could probably call around.”

Dan presses his face into Phil’s neck, his laugh warm and wet in the skin there. “Right,” he says, turning his head, gentle breath skimming over Phil’s throat. “Well if anyone answers let me know. Until then if you need help figuring shit out, I’m happy to be a sounding board."

It is quite possibly the greatest offer Phil has ever heard. “Might take you up on that.”

“Good. You’d better.”

There’s a boy in Phil’s bed, and he thinks it might be the start of something real.