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whispermask · 2 years ago

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gasoline in your heart ch.2/10 | ghost/soap/könig

read on ao3 | first ~ next | ch wc: 2.5k, total: 34k | completed

tags: smut, eventual ot3, fwbs to lovers, porn with feelings, jealous!ghost

dead dove time: this fic as a whole features a brief mention of a past suicide attempt, briefly graphic past child abuse (not CSA), past abuse of alcohol and present alcohol use, and at times dubious consent (consuming alcohol and engaging in sexual activities; dubcon voyeurism; dubcon sexting)

summary: soap and ghost start hooking up; soap and könig have apparently been hooking up; ghost doesn't know how to deal with it (eventual polycule), chapter 2 is soapghost heavy

preview: With Soap in his lap and his gorgeous thighs bracketing Ghost’s hips, an image comes to Ghost’s mind unbidden. Soap and König in a similar position, König‘s hands in the exact place where Ghost’s are now, Soap with his sinful mouth and bedroom eyes in König’s lap while he fixes his teeth in König’s skin. He imagines that somewhere König’s identical mark aches. He can’t help it, he tenses.

Soap finds him during the mission in Turkey.

Ghost is re-bandaging a wound on his forearm. It’s dusk, and he’s in the back of a LAMS, obscured behind a utility shelf and crates of ammunition. His tac lies in a heap on the dusty floor, but he’s still sweating, the residual effects of a stim and the adrenaline of a hard won fight still working their way out of his system. His hands shake as he disinfects the wound with isopropyl alcohol and fumbles to unwrap the gauze.

The wound, a bullet that just managed to graze him, has finally stopped bleeding and the crusted blood around it is starting to pull his skin and arm hair when he moves. In all honesty, he’s surprised there’s not more carnage, or that he managed to dodge just so to avoid being shot. He hadn’t even registered the pain until after he had snapped the shooter's neck and the forty cal had fallen from the man’s hand and clattered across the concrete.

They’re experiencing a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos. Downtime between ops during deployment is already unheard of, but Price and Gaz are eighteen hours outside of the next drop zone doing recon and they can’t proceed without that essential intel so there’s nothing to do but wait for them to return.

Ghost can’t seem to get a firm wrap with the gauze. He’s close to giving up and prepares for the walk of shame to the field hospital when Soap peaks his head out from behind the wall of crates. Ghost freezes.

“I’ll help,” Soap offers.

“Not necessary,” Ghost replies, sharp.

“Quit being stubborn, Lt.,” Soap huffs. He approaches Ghost and takes the gauze, adjusts Ghost’s injured arm to give him better access, and sets to work.

Ghost watches Soap’s face, traces the line of his jaw down to where Soap’s hands are expertly wrapping the gauze with his eyes. Soap doesn’t know that Ghost knows about König. They haven’t had a moment alone since that night in Soap’s hotel room after Chicago, all of three weeks ago. He feels the air around them grow cloying with anticipation as Soap glances up from beneath his lashes to catch Ghost’s eyes.

“I don’t recall you taking fire. Lucky shot?” Soap asks.

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Ghost says. “This was planned. An old friend caught wind that I’d be in Istanbul. Sent a hired gun, and the bastard got the drop on me.”

“A friend?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

”You should get better friends,” Soap says.

Soap finishes wrapping the gauze and fastens it together with two medical clips. “And you should really visit the field hospital, but that will do for the night, or until the next attempt on your life.”

“Here’s hoping,” Ghost says, without humor. “Thanks.”

“Any time, Lt..” Soap pauses. “Fancy a brew?”

“Depends on your definition of ‘a brew’.” Ghost says.

Soap’s definition of ‘a brew’ is sitting astride Ghost while they neck like overeager teenagers, all teeth and too much spit, no finesse. The tea has long since gone cold on the coffee table in front of them. They’re in a hotel room again, Ghost’s this time. Not luxury accommodations by a long shot, but there’s a real bed and loo which is more than their used to most nights, so five stars all around.

Ghost has his hands around Soap’s hips. He can feel Soap’s back flexing as he grinds his hard cock against Ghost through their briefs. Clothes lay strewn about the floor, forgotten in their haste to get skin on skin. Ghost had laid Soap on the couch and bracketed him in with his forearms resting on the cushion beside his head. Their frenzy had simmered for a moment, and they had exchanged almost-tender touches, Soap staring up at him with something akin to wonder. Soap had turned his head so that his cheek was resting in Ghost’s palm, pulled his thumb in between the perfect ‘O’ of his swollen lips. And then Soap craned up, leaving Ghost’s thumb cold with spit, and pressed his lips against the fabric of his still-masked face, just left of center of Ghost’s mouth. A silent request. Ghost had obliged him, the balaclava now abandoned on the coffee table next to their cold mugs.

Soap pushes him up for a moment to fumble for his discarded pants, where he produces a bottle of lube and box of condoms, sets them on the couch next to them and manhandles Ghost until he’s sitting up and climbing into his lap to resume their frantic kissing.

The implication is settled molten in Ghost’s gut, has made a home for itself already, uninvited but impossible to resist. He needs Soap closer so he tucks his hands under the back of Soap’s thighs and hikes him higher, sitting Soap on his clothed cock so that Soap can grind against the hard muscles of his stomach. The head of his dick has left a noticeable wet spot on his briefs and slicks where it presses against Ghost’s skin, the salt-smell of him fueling Ghost’s desire.

Their lips come apart in the shuffle, Soap gasping at the squeeze of Ghost’s hands where ass meets thigh. They find each other again, open-mouthed, tongues swiping and spit heavy; kiss-stupid. Soap tastes like earl gray and bergamot, like cigarettes and gunpowder. Desire pitches through him like a fever, roars in his ears and rises in his throat. Soap’s move back so that he can dip his hand below the waistline of Ghost’s briefs to grasp his cock with a firm, calloused grip. Ghost groans deep in his throat.

“Yeah, fuck, that’s it,” Soap whisper.

Ghost wraps his hand around Soap’s, jerking him together. He looks down at where his briefs have been pulled below his balls, at the wet cockhead flashing between their fists, precum slicking the way.

“Wanna blow you,” Soap says. He slides from Ghost’s lap to his folded knees on the floor at Ghost’s feet. He places his hands on the inside of Ghost’s thighs and pushes his legs open to give him better access.

“Fuck,” Ghost says.

“Eventually,” Soap replies. So fucking cheeky, Ghost thinks.

He slides his palms up Ghost’s legs to the V of his hips. Presses, testing Ghost’s resistance. Holds him down, or tries to as he mouths at the shaft of Ghost’s dick, gets it wet with his tongue, slips the drooling cockhead into his mouth and suckles.

Soap enjoys sucking dick, Ghost figures, gets after it with the same focus he applies in his work, single minded and intense. Ghost’s cock fills his mouth and throat with inches to spare but what Soap lacks in deepthroating ability he more than makes up for in ambition. He’s got his fingers circled around the base of Ghost’s dick like a cockring, moreso to direct his movements, but the pressure sends shivers of pleasure down his spine, causing Ghost to drive his hips up into the soft, wet heat of Soap’s mouth. He feels himself leaking, fights the urge to grasp his cock and drag it over Soap’s lips and cheeks to mark him with precum.

“That’s it,” Ghost says. He’s got a hand fisted in the back of Soap’s mohawk, grown out a bit and brushing against his neck. He uses his grip there for leverage, to bring Soap’s head down as he fucks up into his mouth. “Choke on it, you slag.”

Soap pulls his head against Ghost’s grip and drags his mouth up the shaft until only the head of Ghost’s cock is encircled by the tight ring of his lips. His pupils are blown, black saucers that almost eclipse his irises. He moans around Ghost, his eyes rolling back a bit. He moves the hand not holding Ghost’s cock below the edge of the couch, seemingly into his own briefs. His mouth and jaw are wet with saliva and precum, a line of spit dribbling from his chin onto the cushion below. Ghost couldn’t care less about propriety, he’ll pay the damages if he has to. He has a feeling they’ll more than ruin the upholstery by the time the night is through.

“Like that, do you?” Ghost says.

Soap licks at the underside of his cockhead with hard flicks, massaging where the glans meet and sucking gently so that his cheeks hollow. He uses the circle of his other hand to stroke Ghost from base to just where his mouth is sealed.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Ghost says, a sharp, gruff whisper. “Pull off, fuck, Soap, fuck.” He tries to jerk Soap’s head back further, the image of painting Soap’s lips and cheeks with his come driving him closer to the white-hot edge.

But Soap (damn him, bless him) takes him as far down as he can and swallows, the muscles of his throat fluttering as he releases Ghost’s cock from the tight circle of his fingers. He reaches around to grab Ghost’s ass and pulls him even deeper. His shoulder knocks against Ghost’s knee as he strokes his own cock.

“Fuck, Johnny–I’m gonna come so hard, you’re gonna make me come, you–”

Famous last words, Ghost thinks, as his cock pulses on Soap’s tongue and in his throat. Soap keeps swallowing, once, twice, the shock of pleasure as his throat undulates around Ghost’s cockhead bordering on pain, exultant. He can’t bear to keep his eyes open against it, has to clench them shut on a moan so loud it feels like it shakes the foundation of the building. Soap pulls off and rests his head against Ghost’s thigh as his cock dribbles out the last few pulses of come against his cheek and onto Ghost’s briefs.

Soap’s hand is still moving on his cock and he bites the meat of Ghost’s thigh to muffle a moan. Ghost, feeling kitten-weak in the post orgasm haze, clasps the back of Soap’s head and drags him up and back into his lap, into a searing, sloppy kiss. Ghost can taste his spunk on Soap’s tongue, the salt of it eclipsing the bergamot. They smell like spit and skin and kiss with house-on-fire desperation. Ghost still feels like he’s coming, surprised to find his dick starting to go soft against the cleft of Soap’s ass. Soap still has a hand around the base of his own leaking cock now, though he’s stopped stroking it to instead focus on kissing Ghost. Always a one track mind.

Ghost pulls away “Want help with that?” he asks, already reaching to pull Soap’s boxers down fully.

“I want you to fuck me,” Soap says, and bites Ghost’s bottom lip. “I think you can get hard again.”

Ghost is inclined to agree if the twitch of his dick is anything to go by.

Soap pulls away to stand and remove his briefs completely. He palms his now bare cock, slick down the shaft, as he looks down on his handiwork. Ghost spreads his arms across the back of the sofa, reclines a little to give him a good view. Soap strokes his cock faster, eyes heavy lidded and lips parted and full, the blood of his arousal pumping so that every part of him stands at attention, glows pink, because of what Ghost does to him. He can definitely go again, he thinks, cock already at half mast as he watches Soap get off on watching him.

Soap settles astride him, still stroking his cock. Ghost hooks a hand around the back of his head to fist his hair and pulls Soap in so that their foreheads are pressed together, eye to eye, lips a hairbreadth apart as they share ragged breaths. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to saying I’ll give you everything you want.

Soap is the first to break eye contact, instead opting to trail spit slick kisses down his jaw and throat, until he’s biting hard at the thick chord of muscle between Ghost’s shoulder and neck. Ghost throws his head back and groans but Soap doesn’t relent, seems intent on drawing blood. Ghost can’t help but feel he’s staking his claim, and wants him to have more than a bruise long after this night is over. The thought leaves him devastated.

With Soap in his lap and his gorgeous thighs bracketing Ghost’s hips, an image comes to Ghost’s mind unbidden. Soap and König in a similar position, König‘s hands in the exact place where Ghost’s are now, Soap with his sinful mouth and bedroom eyes in König’s lap while he fixes his teeth in König’s skin. He imagines that somewhere König’s identical mark aches. He can’t help it, he tenses.

“What’s this?” Soap asks, brow creased. He draws back from where he had moved on from mauling Ghost’s shoulder to working a hickey into the skin of Ghost’s pec. He runs his hands over the tight line of Ghost’s drawn-up shoulders.

Ghost isn’t known for pulling punches.

“I saw you,” he says, meeting Soap’s questioning eyes.

“Huh?” Soap says.

“With König.”

Soap laughs. Ghost dumps him off his lap and onto the adjacent couch cushion without ceremony.

“Oi!” Soap exclaims.

Ghost sighs angrily and reaches for his balaclava, craves the superficial protection it provides.

Soap stays his hand with a hot palm on his bare thigh. “Hey, none of that,” he says, almost whispering. His hand starts to move up Ghost’s thigh to his now flagging erection, cups him through his briefs and shifts closer to mouth at the hinge of his jaw.

Ghost brings his hand up to Soap’s bicep, is tempted to drop the whole thing and pull Soap back in. But he can’t ignore the sting of jealousy that sits searing in his stomach, supernova bright and demanding to be spoken. He squeezes his hand around Soap’s arm and pushes him away to try and catch his gaze again, an accusation in his eyes he didn’t even realize he was making.

“Didn’t take you for the possessive type, Lt.,” Soap says, withdrawing further until he’s sitting entirely on the adjacent cushion.

“I ain’t got nothing to possess,” Ghost replies.

Soap huffs and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. Ghost is slapped with the coldness of that motion and something shutters in him, withdraws from the easy intimacy of these hurried trysts. He finishes pulling his balaclava over his face.

“So I'm a bit of a slag, you said so yourself,” Soap says and Ghost flinches as his words are thrown back in his face. “This isn’t exactly a binding arrangement.”

“I never said it was,” Ghost says, already rising to redress.

“What’s the problem, then?” Soap asks.

“There isn’t one.”

“Seems like.” The stakes feel too high suddenly.

“Well I can see that you’ve got a right strop on now. Let’s call it a night.”

“Yeah alright. Get it right up ye, Lieutenant,” Soap mutters darkly and begins reaching for his own clothes, still hard as a rock in his briefs. Ghost doesn’t need a translation, he gets the gist.

Soap dresses and leaves in silence, even slams the door a bit on his way out, but not before he can stare long and hard at Ghost’s back. Ghost feels his eyes on him long after he’s gone, the bite mark smarting in the cold, empty room.

The injury on Ghost’s arm throbs for the first time since Soap had bandaged it, the traitor.

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myrskytuuli · 2 years ago

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So, confession time, when I was twelve I was like Huuuuge Kishigo shipper and that’s how I for the first time found my way tot he wonderful world of fanfics and fanart, but now as an adult I obviously see how toxic and problematic the ship- HAHAHAH GOT YOU GOOD! In this house I don’t grow and don’t become better.

Anyway, now that I’ve dusted off my almost 20 years old Kishigo ship-sails, let me just say how pleasantly surprised and absolutely hopeful I am about their dynamic in the reboot, based only off the short clip in the opening. Because we all know that the original Kishigo dynamic was fucked up as hell. It would be really funny and enjoyable most of the time and then briefly take a sharp turn to completely fucked up and then return back to the genuinely funny like nothing had happened. Oh early 2000s you were truly a different time and Ichigo’s three weed smoking boyfriends were all very much trapped in their 90s boyfriend harem archetypes. The gentleman. The tsundere with a heart of gold. The actual psychopath.

(As an aside, remember how fucked up it was that every girl with several suitors always had to have one of them being an actual sex offender. Like that was just a thing. Remember when we as pubescent girls said shit like “I wish I was raped by character X” like that was just a normal thing to say. And we would all blush and giggle. How did any of us survive puberty in the early 2000s?)

Getting back on topic, the fact that they replaced the nonconsensual kiss in the intro with Kisshu just jumpscaring Ichigo fills me with hope that they have gone the sensible route and toned down the uncomfrotable intensity of Kisshu’s “crush” and maybe kept him as an annoying flirt without it veering into disregarding Ichigo’s actual boundaries. (aside from the fact that they’re fighting obviously.)

The relationship between kisshu and Ichigo was really funny when they weren’t being weirdly sexual, and I want more of that best nemesis dynamic from them.

I want Ichigo and Kisshu to immediately have the very special kind of chemistry that only two people who understand each other at their base clown level can have, the kind of where they immediately dumb each other down and truly bring out the least dignified version of each other that there is.

The kind of where they both think that they are L and Light from that Death Note opening, standing on those colour-coded pillars, the only equals to each other’s genius, expect that they’re both dumb and make each other actively dumber. Casual strangers on the street describe them as “those two best friends who were yelling at each other in the park again.”

The kind where they will both ditch much more important tasks to fistfight each other in the 7/11 parking lot. Both of their teammates are begging them to please just focus on the mission and ignore the other, but the clown music taking over their minds the closer their proximity is to each other is too strong. Nobody thinks their rivalry is impressive expect them. They also know stupid amount of useless information about each other because they cannot help but overshare a weird amount of personal and emotional information to each other while punching each other in the face. One time while fighting Kisshu accidentally teleported them both inside a movie theatre. They were both so tired that they decided to take break and watch the movie together. It was okay, Kisshu thought the spacecraft in the movie looked stupid and unpractical, Ichigo didn’t like how only female character was a love interest, but they both agreed that the special effects were good.

Aoyama-kun, being the saint that he is, understands that sometimes a girl needs time with her alien nemesis. He just wishes that it was less often in the middle of their date-night.

#tokyo mew mew #kishigo #tokyo mew mew reboot #watch me already prepare to ot3 all three of them #also all the aliens are nonbinary obviously #they don't fit into human male/femal binary

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schrijverr · 3 years ago

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Hold Me Together

Chapter 3 out of 4

Eliot gets hurt on a job and then sick. Hardison and Parker waste no time to jump in to care for him and it becomes harder and harder to say no to their care when it’s just so nice. After he has a nightmare, they’re there for him and feelings come to light.

AKA Eliot has a terrible time physically (and partly emotionally), but gets lots of cuddles and two partners in the end.

On AO3.

Ships: Thiefsome OT3

Warnings: Eliot's low self esteem and the flu

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hold Me Tight

Eliot ate his soup under the watchful gazes of Hardison and Parker. It was good soup, but he felt guilty about having the kitchen staff cook for him, deciding to thank them profusely later. He also made a mental note to yell at Hardison and Parkerlater about burning a pan, hoping it hadn’t been one of his nice pans.

For now though, the soup was heavenly on his throat and its warmth was great for his cold bones, so he just leaned against the headboard and ate his soup, spotting the stuffed mushroom on his bedside table.

Once it became clear, he wasn’t going to explode, or whatever those two thought he was going to do, they relaxed and started babbling about all sorts of things. While Eliot had been sleeping, they had also taken a nap, before the failed soup experiment, after which Hardison had taught Parker how to play Thief: Deadly Shadows, which Parker found too unrealistic and critiqued the stealing animations, until they had decided to keep him company.

Their chatter was relaxing and despite the fact that Eliot had been asleep for sixteen hours, not to mention the car ride before that, he found his eyes drooping.

“You tired?” Hardison asked kindly and Eliot’s gut instinct was to deny it. He couldn't go to sleep again, it was embarrassing and unnecessary. Still, he was tired and they had been so nice, but if he went to sleep they would leave him again.

That train of thought had taken a quick turn and Eliot was frustrated that he didn’t have a good control over his emotions and thoughts due to the fluof all things that was making him dazed. He blinked the thought away and shook his head.

“So you’re not tired?” Parker filled in with a confused frown. And Eliot wanted to deny it for real this time, but instead he yawned.

“I somehow find that hard to believe,” Hardison quirked a brow playfully.

God, they were so nice to him and he didn’t deserve that, but it was so nice and he wanted them to stay with him and not go to sleep, even if he was tired. He pushed down the tears threatening to well up in his eyes, before whispering: “Don’t want to sleep yet.”

It was pathetic and he should have just said that he was fine and that he was going to get up, but he couldn’t and if anyone asked later he had a sore throat and couldn’t speak.

“No?” Hardison asked.

“No,” Eliot replied. He didn’t want to sleep, he didn’t want to be left alone and he didn’t want to be pathetic, yet there he was.

“We could watch a movie,” Parker suggested and Eliot could have kissed her. He had wanted to kiss her on multiple occasions, but this was definitely one of them- And he should really stop thinking about kissing Parker right about now, okay, pushing that away.

“That’s a great idea, mama,” Hardison exclaimed, getting up to grab his laptop since Eliot had refused to let him install a tv in his room. As he went he took the empty bowl with him.

Parker took it upon herself to built a semi-pillow fort around Eliot, before burrowing into Eliot’s side with a content sigh. Alarms went off in his head at the closeness even if it was nice, so he protested it with a raw voice: “I could be contagious.”

“We slept next to you for a night then sat on the backseat of Lucille for eight hours, bit too late for that,” Parker said. “Besides, you’re warm and soft.”

His brain short-circuited for a moment and when he came back online Hardison was there, three steaming mugs on a tray as he said: “Ahw, aren’t you two making an adorable picture,” successfully breaking Eliot again.

Next to him Parker smiled and did grabby hands to the mugs. Hardison gave her one, which was obviously hot chocolate under the pile of marshmallows on top of it. Luckily, the mug that Eliot was given was filled with tea. It was bag tea, badly prepared, but there was honey in it and he was touched anyway.

“Okay, I’m thinking 007, it’s James Bond, a classic, must see,” Hardison said, plopping down on Eliot’s other side, setting the laptop on Eliot’s lap and leaning over as he started typing.

“He’s a terrible spy,” Eliot protested, barely audible, more because if he said anything else, he would blurt out something embarrassing and bickering with Hardison about his movie taste was the safest thing right now.

“And your voice is almost gone, so you should rest it,” Hardison shot him a cheeky grin, “No complaining from you for once.”

Eliot guffawed about that, frowning, but he didn’t reply, because he wouldn't waste his voice on something so petty and childish, no matter what Hardison thought, so he just looked away haughtily to convey his dismay.

“Oeh, I know, it’s the one with the dude he thinks he’s good at what we do, but he’s not and also on the other side of the law,” it clicked for Parker and Eliot smiled when she picked his side of the argument.

“Other side of the law? Woman, do you mean the right side of the law?” Hardison said.

“I mean, it’s the other side of the law from us,” Parker shrugged and Eliot couldn't help but bark out a laugh, Hardison joining in, before everyone was distracted when it turned into a coughing fit and Eliot’s tea had to be saved by Parker while Hardison rubbed his back.

“You good?” Hardison asked when the coughing had subsided.

Still a bit out of breath and red in the face, Eliot nodded. He gestured vaguely with his hand to convey that he was fine and that they should let it go, before clearing his throat and rasping: “You know, I’m with Parker.”

“Really? You just nearly died of coughing and your first reaction is to continue a stupid argument where you know you’re wrong,” Hardison said indignantly.

“‘m not wrong,” Eliot told him, voice now barely a whisper.

“You. You stay quiet, okay. Your voice is making my throat hurt-” Hardison took the tea from Parker and pushed it into Eliot’s hands “-drink your tea and shut up, while you watch how wrong you are, okay. Both y’all.”

Eliot grinned lightly, but let them push him back onto the pillows, cradling his mug as Hardison finished setting up the movie, while Parker whispered in his ear: “I don’t get why people think he’s cool, besides the explosions.”

“I heard that,” Hardison called out, clicking play, before settling down on Eliot’s other side, bracketing him between them.

It was nice and comfortable and Eliot should really not be allowing this, because he was fine dammit and he could take care of himself. But it was really really nice and, honestly, it didn’t seem like Parker and Hardison thought him to be breakable and they had had movie nights in the past, so it wasn’t anything new. Besides, his muscles were too sore for fighting right now.

The movie played on the screen, but he couldn't focus and his eyes were closing more and more. He felt himself slide to the side and land on something warm, but no one pushed him away and to the sound of bullets flying, he began to nod off.

He fought it for a while, he really wanted to stay present with Parker commenting on the movie and Hardison defending it until a hacking scene came on and then he was really upset about the whole thing.

It felt like home, comfortable and safe and Eliot wanted to experience it for as long as it lasted, but sleep won out and soon he was out like a light once more.

When he woke up again, he was shivering and cold to the bone, it didn’t matter that there were multiple blankets piled on top of him and that he still had Hardison’s stupidly warm hoodie on. The sweat was cooling on his body and he was cold.

And alone.

Somehow that second fact hit him harder than he’d expected and he immediately hated himself for being a clingy pathetic little bitch. He knew better than this, they’d already seen enough weakness from him. They had handled it so far, but there would be a breaking point and he knew it. He had to keep them out of it, before they got there and they would leave. He had to take care of himself from now on.

Determined he got up out of bed to find more blankets and clean clothes, because still wearing Hardison’s hoodie should be weird and not comforting and the clothes were too sweaty to be comfortable anyway. His left ankle still throbbed as he got up, but he could walk and stand on it now, albeit unsteadily and with a slight limp.

He felt entirely uncomfortable, his skin itchy around him and his body uncoordinated. He wanted to take a shower, but didn’t trust himself enough to take one, so he just pulled on new clothes, a shirt and boxers – no pants because he’d already almost fallen over with the boxers – before padding out his room and to the living room where there should be more blankets. He had no clue what time it was but it was between sun and stars, either early morning or evening.

The unanswered question about the time was answered when he entered the living room and saw Parker and Hardison curled up on the couch with a blanket and pizza. Dinner. At least he hoped it wasn’t breakfast, because then he would have to yell at them and that seemed like about as much work as standing was right now.

Two pairs of eyes had locked onto him the moment he had come stumbling into the room, and he looked at them like a deer in headlights. He somehow hadn’t counted on encountering them, even if it was technically their apartment and he just had a room there.

After a moment of staring, Parker sprung up, exclaiming: “Eliot!” as she scrambled over the back of the couch with the blanket she and Hardison had been sharing.

“Hey, man, what are you doing here? You should be in bed,” Hardison had gotten over his initial surprise of Eliot appearing in just his boxers and a shirt (and he was really regretting not putting in the extra effort of pants).

Then the question registered and with a hoarse voice, he explained: “I go’ col’. Blan’e’s.”

“You’re up looking for more blankets?” Hardison asked. “Good god, you’re shivering, man. Come, sit on the couch.” Parker led him to the couch while Hardison mumbled: “How is this man cold? We left nearly all the blankets on his bed.”

Eliot felt guilty about interrupting their evening when he’d already taken up so much of their time since their last con, on which they also hadn’t been able to spend much time together, but between his clattering teeth and lost voice, his explanation got lost.

He was alone on the couch now, with both Hardison and Parker having disappeared once they’d installed him with the blanket tucked tightly around him. He was a bit lost on what was expected of him now, but soon Parker came back with the mess of blankets that had been on his bed and Hardison arrived with a steaming bowl and a hot bottle.

Hardison handed him the bottle and he tucked it against his chest, before Parker practically swaddled him. He softly protested: “You don’ nee’ to do t‘is.”

“We know,” Hardison smiled again with a bit of knowing in there as if he was aware why Eliot was protesting. It should bother him more than it did that they knew him so well. “Just drink your soup, Eliot. We want to take care of you.”

“Yes, it’s a skill you need to learn and you helped me,” Parker smiled and it was so easy to agree with the smile and just drink his soup, but he couldn't just accept help like that.

What he wanted to tell them was: ‘You two need to stop all of this, because I don’t need it and you two are dating and I’m only in the way of that right now. Just let me get to my room and I’ll be fine on my own while you have date night. This is really sweet and all, but I’ve been through worse and I’ll survive a little flu by myself.’

However, his voice had left him entirely now to the point of inaudible, so instead he moved his mouth while hoarse whispers that couldn't even be called words came out.

“I didn’t get that,” Parker said after a beat and it was just blunt and honest and completely Parker.

“Me neither, mama,” Hardison said. “I can go grab you a pen and some paper, man. You can write it down if you want?”

And that was the opposite of what he wanted. He wanted them to see he was bad in their life and not worthy of this attention, he wanted them to go away before they could see he was weak and they couldn't count on him, even if he would die before they couldn't count on him anymore. The longer this went on the sooner they would see the soft, weak parts of him and they would want to cut him out. And he didn’t want to be cut out. Of course he didn’t want to be cut out, but that would be inevitable if they stayed, because they would see his creepy feelings for them or see how much he craved contact and that would be the end.

His vision blurred and his breath came in raspy wheezes. Far away he could hear Parker and Hardison’s worried voices and he faintly wondered why they weren’t upset with him for ruining their night and falling apart over nothing.

Why couldn’t they just leave him like everyone else? It would hurt, but it would be easier.

But they didn’t leave, instead there was a bony arm around his shoulders and a soft hand rubbing his back as two voices spoke in calming tones, though he couldn't make out what they were saying. He took some more deep breaths and tried to push it all down and lock it away.

Once his vision had cleared he could see a laptop on a blank word document in front of him. He didn’t have the energy to repeat all he’d said, but he typed anyway: im aorry dioe ruinug your date nifht

He couldn't really focus, but both were quiet for a moment as they deciphered his words. Then he was pulled into a half hug by Hardison this time, as the other said: “You’re not ruining anyone’s night, man. What gave you that idea?”

Eliot shrugged helplessly at that, because how could they not see he was ruining their night by getting injured and then sick and deciding to stay here even if he had an apartment, because there was a room here. And he was really relying too much on them already for when it all came crashing down around him.

“Do you not want us to be here with you?” Parker asked, sounding sad.

He shook his head quickly, because he could never let Parker be sad, a stab of pain going through his skull as he did, before shrugging, wishing he had a voice, even if he was too exhausted to explain. He wasn’t sleepy, just tired, like he wanted to sit and stare, but not sleep.

Parker wrapped herself around him, putting her head on his shoulder as she said: “It’s okay. I sometimes also don’t know what I want. We’ll just figure it out together.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Hardison agreed with her and Eliot wanted to cry at their kindness, but instead he just nodded weakly, giving in to taking up space when they didn’t seem to mind. He accepted the soup again and focusing on eating it and the warmth of Hardison and Parker as well as the blankets around him, instead of the thoughts swirling in his mind.

The two had the good sense to let him be, while they went back to the conversation he’d interrupted. It seemed they had been discussing the ethics of pushing someone of the building. Eliot had heard both sides of the argument often enough to tune them out and just listen to the tones of their voices as his mind sank away.

Content he stared into the void for a while. He didn’t keep track of the time, but it could have been minutes to an hour. In the time he ate his soup and let the bowl get taken away gently as the hot water bottle cooled and the shivers came back. His breath was wheezy and he sniffled, regularly interrupted with a cough.

After a while they put on a movie and cuddled on the couch with him, but he could not have told anyone later what the movie was.

They helped him to bed at some point, he brushed his teeth slowlyand slept long and deep, but when he woke up he was still in that hazy staring mood. Parker brought him a few crackers with more tea with honey that he ate gratefully giving her an, in her opinion, dopey smile, even if his eyes couldn't stay fully focused on her.

It was never brought up later and Eliot didn’t remember, but when Parker had asked him why he was smiling, he had told her in a hoarse whisper: “‘s nice, not bein’ alone.” And after that, he hadn’t been alone, because Parker had told Hardison, who had gotten a sad look in his eye, before getting Eliot and carting him off to the couch.

Eliot had gone along willingly. He couldn't really do more than think ‘hmm, warm,’ as he leaned in and stumbled along, but he was glad to just sit on the couch under a lot of blankets while Parker hung in the rafters and Hardison worked on some IDs.

He was pretty sure Sophie came by and he said hi to her and she told him something about talking to Nate, but he couldn't be sure. He should ask Hardison or Parker about it, because they had talked to her more and he should be interested in who went in and out of the apartment, check for security risks. But he was exhausted and he couldn't focus on anything.

Still, he was completely sure that if something were to happen, he would be up and ready to fight as best as he could, but his brain had shut off for anyone he’d deemed safe.

That night Hardison and Parker slept in his bed again, like they’d done at the hotel and the first night back in Portland. Their presence was calming and despite the chills, he felt warm.

During the night he didn’t wake up once, which was actually rare even with the sickness knocking him out constantly. The shivers had been waking him up for short moments, along with the coughing, but pressed between Parker and Hardison, he slept like a baby.

When he woke up, however, he was keenly aware of the cooling sweat on his skin and the every present smell of sickness in the air and the horrid taste in his mouth. He also then realized that meant Hardison and Parker were smelling it too and he let out a small noise of embarrassment, before he was even aware of it.

“What’s wrong, E?” Hardison asked and Eliot would rather just sink into the ground, but he couldn't so he burrowed into his blanket and wrinkled his nose.

“Are you still a mermaid?” Parker appeared where he had rolled away from Hardison.

“We watched The Little Mermaidrecently,” Hardison explained.

Eliot nodded. He might be able to talk, but his throat hurt and none of his thoughts stuck around for long enough to form into sentences he could verbalize.

Parker was still studying his face closely, while Hardison went on a mission to figure out what the noise had meant. “Are you in pain? Do we need to get you some pain meds?”

A grumpy, negative grunt.

“Okay, okay, no need to be so touchy feel-y. I get it, no pain meds,” Hardison backed off. “Is there any other discomfort?”

And there was, the taste and smell and the fact that Hardison and Parker were in the smell and not saying anything about it. Also the fact that his clothes felt grimy from the sweat that madehis skin feellike it needed to crawl off him if he ever wanted to feel comfortable and clean again. But he wasn’t telling them that, because they might want to do something about it, which would be even more embarrassing.

“He’s not telling us something,” Parker snitched on him and while he was glad her people-reading skills had increased, he didn’t like her using them on him. So, he hid in his blanket again as protest.

“There is something!” Hardison agreed, taking his silent protest as Parker’s words having truth and Eliot hated and loved them both for how well they could read him. It was dangerous to have people that close and it would hurt when they left, but to have a family again was nice.

Having them was nice.

Oh no. Abort. Abort. Not having those thoughts while they were in his bed and he was in just a shirt and boxers.

Actually, never those thoughts.

Never.

They were happy together and he only broke things. He was bad and needed to stay away from that and he knew it. Just had to ram it in a few more times before it would stick in his thick skull and- fuck they were still talking to him.

“… never tell us anything and I know you can’t talk and shit, but you really need to give me more than those blank, panicky eyes,” Hardison looked at him, before sighing in what Eliot would call a fond manner, if he didn’t know better. “You didn’t hear a word I was saying, did you?”

Sheepishly Eliot shook his head, wincing when that every present headache made itself known again.

“He feels bad about it,” Parker observed and he would love it if she stopped reading his face to Hardison and let him vanish in peace.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Hardison smiled and a knot loosened in Eliot’s chest, even when he hadn’t noticed it had been there. “I’ll ask again. He listening, mama?”

After a look Parker confirmed: “He is.”

“Good. So, Eliot, the thing that’s bothering you, could we do something to change it and help?” he asked and there was, but Eliot wasn’t showering with them near him again, maybe they’d hold him and the last time was too intense already. His mind spun when he thought about it, so yeah, he didn’t need a close repeat of that, not if he wanted to push Hardison and Parker away.

“I’m taking your silence as a yes,” Hardison informed him, snapping him back to the present, though he could play that off. He had been distant mentally ever since he got sick.

“So, what is it?” Parker asked, poking him and, oh yeah, he realized, them knowing something was up meant that they were going to needle him for answers until they had them.

Luckily for him, he had sat through worse torture and never breathed a word.

A few moments later and he was breaking. Parker kept on poking him and Hardison kept looking at him with those open, concerned eyes while he spoke too much for Eliot too keep track of everything, until it all became too much. “Uncomfortable,” he finally said. Well, tried to say, it sounded more like ‘un’omf’r’le,’ but that was besides the point.

“What’s uncomfortable, E?” Hardison asked, not unkindly.

“E’erythin’,” he replied, tugging at his shirt and wrinkling his nose as he smacked his lips and shuddered, before the shudder turned into a sneeze and a small, miserable cough.

“You feeling yucky, buddy?” Parker asked, earning her look form the other two. Defensively she shrugged: “What? It’s what they say in those movies and shows.”

And when she mentioned it, he did feel pretty yucky, even if he would never describe it like that out loud. Hardison, however, had no such qualms and he delighted in saying: “He probably does feel very yucky. But we can take care of that. I’ll start running a bath.”

Immediately Eliot felt conflicted and made a protesting noise. He wanted a bath, god, nothing sounded better than nice hot water on his sore muscles and cold, sweat stained skin, but if he had learned anything, it was that neither of them would leave him in peace in the bath and he was trying to distance himself, even if that seemed absurd with how both were in his bed, cuddling him through the night to keep him warm.

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back,” Hardison smiled, misinterpreting his noise and sweeping out of the room before Eliot could rectify the mistake.

Parker cuddled back into his side and confided in him: “He never breaks that promise. Took me a while to believe it too, but it’s okay. You’ll get there.”

Eliot didn’t understand, didn’t get how neither of them could see how wrong they were. He wanted to rip his hair out and- oh, there was a hand in his hair, getting out the tangles. It was nice and his mind blanked as he leaned into the contact, something he would berate himself for later.

He only remembered that he should have been convincing Parker that this was a terrible idea when Hardison returned. “You two gotta stop doing this to me, man. You look like a content cat. Now get up, we got a bath to get too.”

The blanket was pulled off him and the cold swept over him. He shivered hard and tried to flee into Parker’s side before he could even think about that action too hard. For a moment, he thought he was safe too, because she wrapped her arms around him like a hug, but then she turned it against him and dragged him to his knees with her.

“Man, I feel like I’m about to slaughter a puppy right now,” Hardison told him as he took Eliot from Parker and pulled him out of bed.

“He’ll be fine once he’s warm and clean again,” Parker assured him. “He’s just being a bit of a baby about it.”

“I think he’s allowed to be a baby about it,” Hardison said and Eliot would have a lot more opinions on the conversation if the room wasn’t spinning and he was barely keeping up with Hardison’s steps, completely trusting the hacker not to drop him. “I mean, look at how he’s shivering, can’t be comfortable.”

Eliot blinked again, the room was still swaying, but it was a different room than before. There was a hot steam in the air and there were tiles around him. The bathroom. He was too late to stop them and he gave in.

If anyone he used to know could see him now, they’d never believe it. The great Eliot Spencer giving into the whims of a hacker and a thief, not even fighting getting a bath even when he knew it was a security risk and something that could blow up in his face.

Deft hands were divesting him of his shirt and soon he was in just his boxers. The door opened and closed behind him as Parker vanished, while Hardison said: “She’s gonna change the sheets and I’m here to keep you from drowning. There are bubbles in the bath, but I can understand if you want to keep your boxers on.”

He nodded, because he would like to keep the boxers on. The steam was doing wonders for his throat, but he didn’t trust himself to speak just yet.

Hardison supported him at the elbows as he stepped into the bath. The water was warm and he sank into it gratefully with a soft sigh, his muscles were already loosening and the heat did nothing against the sleepiness that had been plaguing him. His eyes closed without his permission as the water embraced him.

A hand under his chin stopped him before he could sink underwater and his eyes snapped open to find Hardison smiling at him. “Told you I wasn’t going to let you drown. Go on, relax, Eliot. It’s okay, I got you.”

It was distinctly harder to relax with Hardison holding him up, his big warm hands were very distracting and Eliot was trying really hard not to be distracted. The water was like heaven on his muscles, so that helped and he could feel the steam clearing his sinuses and alleviating the strain on his throat.

Few minutes in and Hardison’s hands were just part of the little place of niceness away from all the discomfort that came with being sick.

Eliot knew he could have just existed like that forever, floating away from his body while still feeling the nice sensations, were it not for the door making noise again as Parker came in. He perked his head up and cracked one eye open.

She smiled at him and held up some clothes, which she put down as she skipped forwards, kneeling next to the bath. With open eyes she asked: “How are you feeling? Baths always make me feel tingly in a good way, are you feeling tingly?”

He didn’t know what hisface did at the question, but Hardison laughed: “I think he’s feeling plenty tingly, mama. I saw you with your hands in his hair, wanna wash it?”

Parker lit up at that and even if Eliot had been planning to protest – which hadn’t crossed his mind before it was too late – he couldn't have told her no with that face. So he watched as they switched places, feeling kinda awkward at both of the staring at him while he was going to face a vulnerable action.

Eliot wasn’t going to ask where she had gotten the skill, but she knew what she was doing as she slipped a hand under his neck, before slowly pushing him down into the water, until he was comfortably floating. She ran a hand through his hair and the final awkwardness slipped from his mind along with most of his thoughts as he leaned into the touch.

Under the water with his eyes closed, he couldn't see Hardison’s looks that he couldn't place with his fuzzy mind, nor Parker’s excitement and apparent happiness about taking care of him like he needed their help. He could just be and feel the tender touches that no one had given him in many years, everyone always quicker to see him as a threat to be avoided.

He was even slightly upset when Parker pulled him back up, a noise leaving his throat before he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to find Parker’s hands on him nice, she had a boyfriend. A hot boyfriend, but also a no-no on the touch list.

So, he kept quiet as Parker lathered shampoo into his hair. It was her shampoo, he was almost sure of it. Her hair always smelled like it and, if he remembered correctly, it had been a gift from Hardison. Now he had to fight both the blush as well as soft pleased noises.

And he failed at both.

“Ahw, man, the moment you feel better, I am so teasing you with this,” Hardison said. “You’re just too sad for me to do it now, but I will remember this. I’m probably not allowed to film you, right, because this is great.”

His response was going to be something along the lines of ‘Dammit, Hardison,’ but Parker was faster as she spoke for him: “Hardison! Shush, we just got him to accept a bit of nice things, don’t ruin our master plan.”

“Sorry, mama,” Hardison looked chastised and Eliot wanted to ask about the master plan, but Parker just hit a knot in his hair and he shivered against her touch instead and forgot was he was going to ask.

When Parker washed out his hair, she was careful not to get it into his eyes, but she also let him float a bit longer, the silence of the water stilling his swirling mind. It was empty now, which was better than the confusing half-thoughts and admonishes.

Still, the water was cooling around him and sooner than he’d like, Parker was letting him up as Hardison got him out of the bath.

He could at least stand on his own now and Parker left the two of them while Eliot got dried off and into new clothes.

Being able to stand on his own, however, didn’t mean it wasn’t still strange. His entire being felt soft and collapsible from the bath and sitting on the toilet with Hardison rubbing him down with a towel wasn’t helping. He couldn't even remember why he was allowing Hardison to do it, instead of drying himself, but the contact was nice and he got lost in it.

Soon there was a shirt floating in front of him and this time his shoulder was good enough to slide his armin it. Hardison had dried his stitches and mumbled something about them healing well, which Eliot appreciated. He didn’t need more of his body to turn against him like it was doing now with the way he swayed towards Hardison whenever then man moved away slightly.

The pants was still awkward as fuck, with Eliot leaning one hand on Hardison’s shoulder and looking away at the ceiling while Hardison helped him into dry boxers and sweatpants, patting him on the leg when he was done.

He expected to go back to bed, but Hardison had remembered all the little details and was standing in front of him with his toothbrush. He reached out for it, but his arm was heavy and fell halfway through the uncoordinated grab.

“Yeah, okay, this is just sad, open up,” Hardison said. Eliot didn’t comply and he raised a brow, before putting on a voice and going: “Come on, say ahhhh.”

Eliot glared at him, but said ahhh with a murderous glare that fell flat in the grand scheme of it all. He let Hardison steady his jaw, before he brushed his teeth. It was rhythmic and soothing and Eliot allowed himself to get lost in the sensations as Hardison took care of him, spitting in the sink and accepting the glass of water offered to him.

Then they returned to the bedroom, Hardison a steady presence at his side as had become the norm in the past few days.

When he got to his bedroom, the sheets had been changed and he never thought he’d see the day where that would make him emotional, but there were still tears trying to well up that he pushed down, because they were just so goddamnedthoughtful and they were taking care of him even when they didn’t need to.

It was just a lot. Eliot wasn’t used to it. And his brain would have told him to not get used to it, if it hadn’t been turned to slight mush by the sickness and the nice warm bath.

So, he got into the bed and burrowed into the clean sheets with a happy smile, not seeing the ‘oh my god, he’s being adorable like a puppy looks’ that Hardison and Parker shared as he whispered a soft thanks.

“No problem,” Hardison said. “Here scoot over, Parker picked a movie.”

And he did so gladly, even if he knew it was a play to get him to sleep again. He wasn’t fighting them, his brain felt warm and he wasn’t thinking straight enough just yet, so he let them cozy up to his sides as a movie he couldn't name played.

He napped till the evening then he ate more soup and he would complain about different nutrient intakes and diversity in a diet, but he was just glad that they cared enough to bring him food – and he would really have to thank the kitchen staff later for that too – while also not burning down his kitchen.

That evening, he stayed awake through the movie, which was a shitty horror movie that Eliot had never heard about and could have gone his entire life without knowing about it.

However, sleep took him for the night just as easily and he was looking forward to the day he could stay awake and think straight again. That day was not the next day, however, which passed in a similar fashion.

But, while he felt and looked like a wreck, on the fifth day back at the brewpub, he felt slightly better. His nose was still completely stuffed but with all the tea, the bath and resting his voice, his throat was much better already, even the coughing subsiding little by little. His appetite was still shit and he had no energy, his head was also constantly thrumming and his muscles hurt like he’d been fighting for hours, on top of his healing injuries that had fallen into the background of his general discomfort.

Still, while it wasn’t a lot, his head wasn’t so fuzzy anymore either. It meant he felt all the aches more, but he liked that he had a little more control over his head.

Sadly, because he had more control over his head, he remembered how this was all wrong and he should be far away from this.

A/N:

Eliot goes from grumpy man to emotional wreck in three chapters and I commend him for that, because it takes me five minutes max

Also, it’s really hard to write a story when the person from whose POV it is written keeps falling asleep, like sir, I need you to write the fic, stop sleeping.

Fun fact!: I typed this ‘im aorry dioe ruinug your date nifht’ without looking, bc I am actually a shit typer in the sense that I type with two fingers (four if I’m in a hurry), lmao. How I get anything done is a miracle, though I am pretty fast despite it all.

I feel like I should also mention that I know nothing about taking care of sick people and this was written for the emotional care, not the realistic nursing techniques. Also don’t look too closely into what happened to all the injuries, I half forgot, oops

Btw, angstier chapter incoming, fear me >:3

#RR writing #tw: self esteem issues #tw: flu #tw: sickfic #leverage #leverage ot3 #thiefsome #hitter hacker thief #eliot x hardison x parker #eliot spencer #alec hardison #parker #leverage parker #leverage tv #Hold Me Together #Hold Me Together Part 3

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pale-silver-comb · 5 years ago

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Aloha! You did it, you made me watch 5 seasons of Leverage in about a week. Thank you, I love them all and miss them already. Where is my spin-off with the OT3? Where? I do have a question though, what do you think are the living arrangements for the team? We once see Parker's storage unit and it is pretty clear at least Parker and Hardison live above the brew pub. Did they ever talk about moving in together? Did I miss something? Do I have to watch it all from the start? What a hardship ;-)

Asdfghjkl!!!!! I feel like I’ve collected a family of new Leverage fans in the past three weeks AND I’VE LOVED EVERY SINGLE MOMENT OF IT.

Also. A week????? Bloody hell. That’s dedication. I miss them too. I’ve started watching it all again for that very reason.

Oooh oooh oooh! I do have thoughts about this.

I think Parker and Eliot would still have separate living spaces to start with. Even if Parker lives with Hardison above the Brew Pub on the main, I think she’d still need space sometimes. Whether that be something similar to her old storage unit or just sleeping in the air vents of the Brew Pub every so often. However, by season 5 I feel she’d be pretty settled on the whole. Mostly because I never imagine Hardison would have asked her to move in. Hardison gets Parker and he’s always respected her boundaries and let her move at her own pace. So I imagine when Hardison bought the Brew Pub, he bought it with Parker and Eliot in mind (see: those sweet, sweet high ceilings and large air vents/A WHOLE PUB FOR ANGRY LITTLE CHEF MEN TO COOK IN ‘TIL THEIR HEART’S CONTENT) but with no pressure. Parker probably moved herself in one day. Or stayed the first night and never really left. Much to Alec’s delight.

Eliot though. Eliot I imagine takes much longer. Post-canon. Despite establishing that this thing between them is, indeed, a relationship relationship, not Hardison/Parker + Eliot for as long as they all shall live, I think Eliot would still be…slow moving. When they first get to Portland, Eliot will have had his own place, I’m sure of it. There’s no way he clocks that the Brew Pub is for him (and I’m sure Hardison planned it that way).

However, we all know this soft boy has dreams of running Hardison’s pub until his dying day. He’s fooling no-one with that “I guess this is my life now” act. He’ll never admit it but he sees himself as an old man in that pub, with an equally old Hardison and Parker to bicker with and feed. It sets his little heart aglow (not that he’d ever admit that either.) However, Eliot’s probably not thought about settling down with anyone but himself since Aimee. The thought probably scares him, just a little. Not because he’s scared of committing to Parker and Alec or that he’d ever let them down, but because he honestly thought he’d never get this. He took “happily ever after” off the table long ago and now here’s the two most wonderful, infuriating people he’s ever met offering it to him. Just like that.

Hardison is savvy to this though and I think he’d end up building Eliot a separate apartment over the Pub. Or give him a separate room in the apartment they already have. One that Eliot gradually moves into. He’d make it about the Pub and not him and Parker because Eliot needs to do things on the basis he’s helping someone, doing good. He won’t do it for himself. I can imagine Parker getting a little frustrated with how long it’s taking Eliot to move in with them but it’s a good balance because while Hardison is prepared to go as slow as Eliot needs, Parker is always the one insisting it’s silly that Eliot keeps going back to his own apartment when he could stay for cuddles and breakfast. This more or less always convinces Eliot (who is genuinely worried the two people he loves most in the world will die of poor eating habits before anything else).

I don’t think Parker would ever give up her living space away from the Pub. Even if she rarely uses it I think she’d like having the choice. Eliot, though. Eliot may take odd jobs that take him away from Parker and Hardison from time to time, but once he’s moved in he’s there for good. I like to think Hardison buys a huge bed for them all to sleep in but sometimes he’ll wake up and Parker will be sleeping in the air vents or the roof or whatever other small space she can find. Whereas Eliot, while mostly content to sleep curled up next to them, sometimes ends up sleeping on the couch or decides he’s had enough sleep by 4am and goes down to the Brewery to try out new things for the menu. On occasion, Parker will find him and join him there and will silently taste test all the food Eliot makes until the sun comes up. It’s a private thing they share and usually always ends in Parker convincing Eliot to make them all some ludicrous breakfast, like rainbow waffles or “morning chicken”. (It doesn’t matter how many times Eliot tells Parker putting “morning” in front of a food item doesn’t make it breakfast, she never listens, and he always caves.)

The best thing for Parker and Eliot though? The knowledge that one Alec Hardision will always, always be in that bed. Their bed. No matter what, they know he’s not going anywhere. Ever. Will always welcome them without judgement. Just open arms and that smile they love so, so much.

#leverage #leverage ot3 #alec hardision #parker #eliot spencer #letterschming #okay this maybe got a little too long #I JUST LOVE THEM OKAY #talk leverage to me #parker x hardison x eliot

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drivingsideways · 4 years ago

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k-drama rec list

Prior to 2020 I’d maybe watched 2 k-dramas in my entire life, but this year I got sucked in, thanks to some great recs, and y’know, *gestures * everything.

I think I’d held off watching kdramas because my impression of them was limited to romances that I didn’t enjoy at all. But this was the year I discovered the equivalent of “gen fic” kdrama- dramas that had wonderful ensemble casts, strong story lines that weren’t entirely romance focused and also a variety in terms of themes and styles. A big plus was that I found so many of these dramas had women leading the writers’ room, and seeing the effect of that in the story telling. (Notable exceptions: a certain “star” writer who should please stop inflicting her badly written, formulaic crap on the world, yes Kim Eun-Sook, I mean you, and whoever wrote that trashfire Flower of Evil)

So here I am with my own rec list! Caveat- these are mostly not the dramas released in 2020, I’m still playing catch up! :)

Under the cut for length

My Mister/ My Ahjussi (2018, Written by Park Hae-Young, Directed by Kim Won-Seok, starring Lee Sun-kyun and Lee Ji-eun aka IU)

This was definitely my absolute favourite of the shows I watched this year across western/ asian media. It’s a story about the thread that binds us all and the ineffability of human connection. It’s also a story that deconstructs ideas of masculinity and honour and shame in a non-western context, but with an extremely compassionate touch. It’s a story that doesn’t shy away from showing the consequences of material and spiritual poverty; and how one can so easily feed into the other. It’s a love story that isn’t a romance, except that it’s a Romance. It’s about finding salvation in one another and in the kindness of strangers. It’s about choosing life, and picking yourself up off the floor to take that one last step and then the next and then the next. The one quibble I have with the series is that it could have been better paced, it does get extremely slow after the half way mark. But god, do they land the ending. Both Lee Sun-kyun and IU turn in absolutely heartbreaking performances, and fair warning, be prepared to go through an entire box of tissues watching this series.

Life (2018, written by Lee Soo-yeon and directed by Hong Jong-chan, starring Lee Dong-wook, Cho Seung-woo, Won Jin-ah, Lee Kyu-hyung, Yoo Jae-myung and Moon So-ri.)

Medical dramas are very much not my thing, and I wouldn’t have taken a chance on it except that @michyeosseo said I should, and she was right! It’s a medical drama in the sense that it’s set in a hospital, but rather than a “case-fic” format, this is actually a sharp commentary on the corporatization of health care, and the business of mixing, well, money and what should be a fundamental human right. Writer Lee Soo-yeon was coming off the global success of Stranger/Secret Forest S1 when this aired, so I understand that expectations were probably sky-high, and people were disappointed when this show didn’t give them the adrenaline rush that they wanted. On the other hand, I thought that this outing was really much more nuanced in terms of the politics and also how the ending doesn’t allow you the luxury of easy-fixes. This show has a great ensemble cast, and while it took me a while to get used to Lee Dong-wook’s woodenness (i ended up calling him mr.cadaver after watching this and was surprised to learn that he’s very popular?), in the end I was quite sold on his version of angry angst-bucket elder-sibling Dr.Ye Jin-woo. His best scenes were with Lee Kyu-hyung who turns in a lovely, achy performance as the paraplegic Dr. Ye Seon-woo who just wants to live a normal life. The love story between the two brothers is actually the emotional backbone of the story, and I think they landed that perfectly.

My one quibble with writer-nim is that she ended up writing in a forgettable and somewhat (for me at least) uncomfortable romance between the characters played by Won Jin-ah and Cho Seung-Woo. I think part of my uncomfortable-feeling was that I got the strong sense that the writer herself didn’t want to write this romance, it was as if she was being made to shoe-horn it in for Studio Reasons, and she basically grit her teeth and did the worst possible job of it. I do wish we could have absolutely had the OT3 of my dreams: Moon So-ri/Cho Seung-woo/Yoo Jae-myung like, c’mon TV gods MAKE IT HAPPEN, just...look at them!!!!

Anyway, that apart, I think this was a very engaging series, and by engaging, I also mean thirst-enabling, see below.

Stranger (aka Secret Forest or Forest of Secrets) S1 & 2 : (2017-, Written by Lee Soo-yeon, directed by

2017′s smash hit aired a much anticipated second season in 2020, and I managed to catch up just in time to watch that live, so that was thrilling :D . Writer Lee Soo-yeon mixes up thriller/office comedy/political commentary in an ambitious series. I think S1 is more “exciting” than S2 in terms of the mystery and pacing, but S2 is far more dense and interesting in terms of political commentary because it takes a long hard look at institutional corruption and in true writer-nim fashion doesn’t prescribe any easy solutions. Anyway, please enjoy public prosecutor Cho Seung-woo and police officer Bae Doona as partners/soulmates kicking ass and taking names in pursuit of Truth, Justice and just a goddamn peaceful meal, along with a stunningly competent ensemble cast. Also yes, Han Yeo Jin is a lesbian, sorry, I don’t make the rules.

Search: WWW (2019, Written by Kwon Do-Eun, directed by Jung Ji-hyun & Kwon Young-il, starring Im Soo-jung, Lee Da-hee, Jeon Hye-jin)

GOD. Where do I start? +1000 for writer Kwon Do-Eun saying “fuck the patriarchy” in the most grandiose way possible, i.e. absolutely refusing to acknowledge that it exists. Yes, this is that power fantasy, and it’s also a fun, slice-of-life tale about three women navigating their way through work, romance, national politics and everything in between. It’s true that I wasn’t entirely sold on the amount of time spent on the romance, and I really wish they’d actually had a textual wlw romance, though the subtext through the entire series is PRACTICALLY TEXT. But still, it maintains that veneer of plausible deniability and I think queer fans who are sick of that kind of treatment in media have a very valid grouse against the show. On the other hand, personally I felt that the queer-platonic vibe of the show is very wonderful and true to real life, and it was only reinforced by the ending. This is a show written by a woman for women (like me), and it shows.

Hyena (2020, Written by Kim Roo-Ri, directed by Jang Tae-yoo & Lee Chang Woo, starring Kim Hye-soo and Ju Ji-hoon )

Those of you who’ve been watching hit zombie epic Kingdom are probably familiar with Ju Ji-hoon’s brand of sexiness already. I had not watched Kingdom and got hit in the face by Mr.Sexy McSexyPants’ turn as a brash, privileged-by-birth, up and coming lawyer who gets completely runover by the smoking hot and incredibly dangerous fellow lawyer/competitor from the other side of the tracks in the person of Kim Hye-Soo. When I say they set the room on fire, I mean it, ok. Every single scene between these two is an actual bonfire of sexual attraction and emotional hand grenades, and they’re both absolutely riveting to watch. “Flower of Evil” wishes they had what this show has- an actual grown up romance as opposed to a thirteen year old twilight fan’s idea of an adult romance.

The “lawyer” shenanigans and the “cases” are hit or miss, and I think the occasional comedy fell flat for me. But that’s not why I mainlined like 6 episodes of this series overnight like a coke addict, and that’s not why you’re going to do it either. It’s so RARE, even in these enlightened days to find a female character like Jung Geum-ja: hard as nails, unapologetic about it, and not punished by the narrative for it. The best part for me is that she feels like a woman’s woman, not a man’s idea of what a Strong Female Character should be. Anyways, when I grow up I want to have what Kim Hye-soo has ok?

Other dramas that I watched this year, quickly rated:

The King: Eternal Monarch (3/10 and those 3 points are only for the combined goodness of second leads who deserved better- Jung Eun Chae, Woo Do Hwan and Kim Kyung Nam. Please head over to my AO3 and read my attempts to fix this garbage fire and rescue their characters from canon)

Flower of Evil (-10/100, dont @ me)

Tale of the Nine Tailed (5/10, I think it succeeds at what it set out to do, which is a light hearted, sweet fantasy-romance-melodrama, plus “second lead” Kim Beom will make you cry as the hot mess of a half human/ half fox spirit ALL TEARS character. I think if you’re into kdrama romances as a genre, this is probably a good bet?)

Signal (7/10, This was the first full kdrama I watched this year and would definitely recommend. It’s a police procedural with time travel shenanigans and has an engaging plot, good pacing, texture and compelling performances. My one disappointment with it was the way they wrote Kim Hye-soo’s character. As literally the only female character to survive in any way, she was given short shrift, and toward the end it really began to grate on me.)

Six Flying Dragons - (7/10, also would recommend if you’re interested in Korean historicals. It definitely already feels a bit dated in terms of styling and production values, and even scripting and acting choices. But it has a good balance of fantasy and history and political commentary. I was not a fan of Yoo In-Ah’s performance in this series, but it’s not anything that would make you want to nope out of the series. It’s GoT , if GoT was thoughtful about politics and characters and not the misogynist, racist trashfire that it became.)

My Country: The New Age - (3.5/10, and that’s 3 points to Jang Hyuk’s fan and 0.5.points to Woo Do Hwan’s heaving bosom. If you like your historical drama/fantasy with very pretty men, very gay subtext -seriously RIP to show makers who thought they could hetero it but didn’t account for Woo Do Hwan’s Tragic Face- lots of blood and tears and very nonsense plot, this is right up your alley. I probably would have enjoyed it more in other circumstances, I think? But this one just annoyed me too much at the time!

I have a couple of more dramas to watch on my list, that’ll probably carry me over into 2021, so see ya on the other side! :D

#k-drama #kdrama rec list #2020: A YEAR #i'm a queue for you

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ajokeformur-ray · 4 years ago

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I was thinking maybe if (J x Pat x Reader) made/had dinner together?

Katieeee ~ 🥰💛🥰 hiiiii, darling!!!!😊 I had so much fun writing this! I hope that you enjoy it. It’s been a while since I wrote for the Ledger!OT3 so you’ll have to forgive anything rusty.

Please send @loveletterstoledger some love, she was so kind to read this over for me while it was being written and to tell me if these men were in character. I love you so much, angel!💙

Word count: 1, 714.

When you had somewhat jokingly said to J several days ago that you liked to live dangerously and that you wished you could do it more often...

... This hadn’t been what you had had in mind.

In fact, if you had known that this was what J had been planning, you would have backpedalled so fast out of that conversation that you would have slipped off the proverbial cliff.

You had been exhausted lately; everything was just too much and so overwrought were you that you barely had the energy to even think about making dinner for the three of you, let alone to actually do it.

You opened the freezer, sifted the contents around, and tried to concentrate on making a list of what you needed more of.

You liked to do multiple things at once to at least give yourself the feeling of being put together,

But control is an illusion, this you knew, as did J.

So when you dropped the bag of frozen peas because the grip in your fingers suddenly went slack and you didn’t respond to Pat’s gentle calling of your name, J knew that you needed to give up the illusion for one night.

Enough was enough and if there was one thing J didn’t tolerate, it was you suffering in any kind of way.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Pat tried to get your attention once more and you seemed to finally register him as you nodded.

“What? Yeah, just - tired, is all. M’fine.”

You relinquished your grip on the bag of peas and Pat scoffed, his dark brows furrowed.

He, too, couldn’t abide even the idea of you suffering. Keeping you safe and healthy and happy was the one thing which held he and J together, most especially because you knew how to break through Pat’s tendency to jump to the defense quickly, and you could see through J’s attempts to put those very walls up in the younger man.

And love... Oh, there was so much of it between the three of you that sometimes did it feel like a fourth presence in the room, watching over the three human inhabitants and giving them a safe and homely feel when they three were all together at the end of a long day.

Pat shook his head in disbelief. He shot J a look over your shoulder and the elder man shrugged.

Despite his casual attitude, however, J’s chocolate gaze was pinned on you. He didn’t like this. not one bit.

“You’re not fine. Come here, love.” With one hand on your elbow, Pat reached across the room and somehow grabbed a chair. He pulled it towards you and looked at you expectantly.

When you didn’t immediately react, Pat huffed again and pointedly - but with care - pushed down on your shoulder with the hand that had been wrapped around your elbow. “Sit down before you fall down, Y/N. You’re exhausted. When was the last time you went to sleep?”

“Last night. Haven’t been sleeping well, but I have been sleeping. I’m fine, Pat.”

J had been watching this exchange quietly. He said nothing, but he took in Pat’s tender frustration, your exhaustion and your obvious want for a night for your two loves by your side, where they belonged.

“You, ah - ya’ still want a taste of danger, doll?”

You eyed J warily but he remained undeterred.

“Why don’t, ah - why don’t the kid and I make dinner, hm? Ya’ can sit and - “ J waved a hand around like he was trying to conjure the words up out of nowhere, “look pretty.” You sat there staring at J in disbelief and he nodded in approval. “Ya’ a natural!”

You felt your face heat up in a blush at the easy compliment and J’s eyes seemed to deepen as he stood there looking at you, exhausted but still trying to function at your usual level.

You were a strong one; he had taught you that, and he was proud of you.

If J got his way, then dinner would be some paper takeaway menus and a phone call.

But Pat was a natural caregiver and you were worried enough as it was.

The last thing the younger of the two men wanted you to worry about was where the money for the takeaway was going to come from, and so he resolved to make you something.

It had been J’s idea and so the clown was going to help, whether he wanted to or not.

There was nothing Pat wouldn’t do for you and in truth was J much the same.

Though the two men were quite different, you were their common interest and the glue which held them together.

This night was your comfort paramount, so exhausted were you and so desperately did you not even want to have to worry about even the small things.

With the decision made, J began to open cupboards, his eyes scanning the contents before he moved onto the next cupboard, not shutting anything, and Pat swore under his breath and began to move up behind J.

Pat pulled bits and pieces from the cupboards as he went, “J, will you stop? We’re meant to be helping, not create more mess!”

J grunted in acknowledgement that Pat had spoken and the younger man correctly translated the noise to be one of agreement, though J went no further.

He did, however, pointedly slam a cupboard door shut, making Pat clench his jaw against saying something as he began to put a meal together for the three of you.

The peas you had grabbed earlier, some pasta (catered to any dietary restrictions or choices you had), some spices... a few more things from the freezer...

It had meant to be a group effort to make dinner but what ended up happening was that J leaned against the counter beside the oven top and made sassy comments with his arms folded over his eccentrically covered chest, and you approached Pat once steam began to curl up from the various saucepans and frying pans to wrap your arms around his waist.

You curled into Pat and he hummed, tipping his head back distractedly to awkwardly press a kiss to the nearest parts of you he could reach.

Pat was fully focused on making dinner and his dark brows were furrowed as he taste tested and then chucked the used teaspoons into the sink. A double dipper he was not.

“Dinner’s ready. J, can you - “

Before Pat had finished speaking, you pulled away from him and J had, already in his hands, three plates.

And so it continued that at the point where Pat would ask for something, J had already done it, and you realised that J hadn’t just been tormenting Pat.

He had been keeping the younger man company, observing how he cooked and how he preferred his food, and making sure that Pat didn’t hurt himself as he prepared dinner.

J cared and it made your heart swell in your chest at how subtle J’s affections were unless one knew how to look for them.

Pat noticed, too, and as he grabbed two plates to take them over to the table, he casually kissed J’s cheek. “Getting soft in your old age, J?”

“Care-ful, kid-do,” J’s words were soaked in amusement - he enjoyed the banter as much as Pat did. “This old man’s not slow.”

You three sat at the table and Pat kept an eye on you as you both ate; J, for his part, was more preoccupied with keeping an eye on his younger partners.

He wasn’t all that hungry, anyway, and he had seen some poptarts in the cupboard...

To J’s relief, his younger partners had eaten, and he felt a part of himself, a part he liked to hide and otherwise deny even to his own self, become relieved to know that the people he chose to spend his precious time with were taking care of themselves - even if your own hand had been forced.

“Thank you for dinner, Pat,” Instead of simply getting up and starting with the dishes, you sat further forward and wrapped your arms around Pat’s neck.

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” Pat kissed the side of your head and then you turned to the side, slowly unfurling your arms from around Pat and throwing yourself at J, who let you clamber onto his lap before his arms slinked around your waist like a sleepy boa constrictor; ensnared were you by all that the clown was, all that he had ever been and all that he would ever be.

“Someone’s sleepy, hm?”

You nodded, wanting to just... sink into royal purple and charcoal grey and to never again resurface.

The heartbeat which pounded strongly in your ear was the lullaby which was sending you closer to a threshold consciousness, and you jolted upwards.

You had gotten so good at catching your own fall over the years.

J’s large, hot hand smoothed over the expanse of your back. He didn’t want to let you go, but he knew that you were close to giving in to your exhaustion and the dinner table was not the place for it.

“Here, Pat - let me do the dishes because you cooked.”

You made your way over to the sink with the dishes in your hands and once again did it seem as though Pat and J had a conversation over your shoulder, for the decision was not yours to make.

“A-ta-ta, no.” J seized the plates from you and dumped them in the sink. “Leave ‘em.”

You knew what J was trying to say: the dishes could wait. You, J’s greatest priority alongside Pat, couldn’t.

“Don’t be shocked, but - “ Pat wrapped an arm around you and tugged you into his side, “I’m with J on this one. Dishes can wait.”

Your eyes turned from one chocolate gaze to the other as exhaustion truly swept you up into its current.

Only Pat’s hold on you prevented you from being carried away by it and all you could say was, “cuddle pile?”

Pat’s grin made your heart drop to your stomach and J’s smirk made it melt.

HL OT3: @tsukiakarinobara @1-800-dead-inside @antonija89 @hotpacino @call-me-harley-quinn @devilshyenaaa

#heavymetalnarwhal #ledger joker #ledger!joker #patrick verona #ledger!joker x patrick verona x reader #patrick x J x reader #J x patrick x reader #heath ledger

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ghost-in-the-hella · 4 years ago

Note

24. “Is that blood?" with AmberPriceField.

Oh, hey, this might actually be my first amberpricefield! Surprised it took me so long to write something for this OT3, honestly. Hope you like it despite the angst.

CW for blood and referenced suicide

---

“Is that blood?”

Max doesn’t recognize the woman’s voice. Everything around her is blurred into a haze, soft around the edges like she’s looking through an unfocused lens; blue and gold and sunset orange. Returning from a photo jump is a bit like surfacing after being underwater. And this time, Max has been underwater for two years.

Hands close on Max’s shoulders. A finger touches under her chin, tilts her head. “Shit, Max, are you okay?”

That voice, Max recognizes. She almost weeps with relief at the sound of it. “Chloe,” she gasps. When her vision comes into focus, it’s on a face she never thought she’d see again. “Chloe,” she sobs again like it’s a prayer, tangling her fingers in blue and violet hair, pulling Chloe closer to her, tears spilling from her eyes and blurring everything again. “Chloe, Chloe, Chloe…”

Chloe’s arms wrap around her and she’s home again, surrounded by Chloe’s warmth and comfortingly familiar smell. Max’s nose is still bleeding slightly, but she can’t stop herself from burying her face in Chloe’s chest and letting her rock her gently in her arms the way she used to do when Max would wake from night terrors.

She never thought she’d get to be held like this again. Not after… Not after that horrible morning. Not after the worst day of her life.

It had been unbearable to see Chloe die over and over that October, killed by bullets, by trains, by whatever the universe had felt like throwing at her. It was worse to see Chloe curled up on the floor of their bathroom in their small Santa Monica apartment with an empty pill bottle resting near her head and foam dried on her cold, blue lips. Cold already by the time Max found her. Much too late to rewind, though Max tried. Rewound again and again until she bled, rewound until her powers sputtered and failed. They’d stayed gone for days, not a flicker of power as Max sleepwalked numbly through funeral preparations, through packing up her life and moving back to Seattle.

They returned the day the numbness broke, cracking like an eggshell to spill forth the yolk of Max’s anger. Her anger and her determination.

Max has always been a shutterbug. It didn’t take her long to find a photograph old enough, once she knew what she was looking for.

“Here,” the unfamiliar voice says, and Max finds herself accepting a tissue from a stranger’s hand. It’s a lovely hand: tanned even though it must be February, elegant fingers with chipped black nailpolish, delicate and strong at the same time. The perfume dabbed on the stranger’s wrist smells gently of jasmine.

A picture from 2012. A picture, more importantly, taken before Rachel Amber went missing. If Chloe couldn’t bear to live in a world with so much loss, then Max would give her a world with less. Even if it meant that she would never be with Chloe - would never live with her, would possibly never even see her again - at least it might be a world in which Chloe could be alive.

Max dazedly pats the tissue against her own upper lip, and she stares at the woman in front of her. Max has only seen her in photographs before. The photographs were beautiful, but they didn’t do her justice. “Rachel Amber…”

The woman’s brow furrows slightly in concern. “What’s up, Max?” She laughs a bit nervously. “Should I be worried you last-named me? Am I in trouble?”

Max never thought she’d get to meet Rachel Amber. She definitely never thought she’d see her naked.

The rush of blood to Max’s cheeks nearly sets her nose bleeding again.

“Haven’t seen you with a nosebleed since you were a kid,” Chloe mumbles, picking up the bloodied tissue that’s tumbled from Max’s fingers. “You didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”

“I’m fine,” Max whispers. She’s on a bed, she realizes. One of the tiny, hard beds of the Blackwell dorms. She must’ve still gotten into Blackwell in this reality. Still reconnected with Chloe. And met Rachel Amber.

Blackwell is still standing. Which means that Arcadia Bay is still standing. Which means that… “We’re all fine,” Max says, stunned. “Aren’t we?”

“Uh, yeah, apart from your nosebleed.” Chloe kisses Max on the forehead, and oh, Max has missed that. She nearly melts under the familiar touch.

“Also, I think the lightweight miiiiiiiiight’ve smoked too much,” Rachel adds, climbing onto the bed with a teasing smile. It’s much too small for the three of them. It creaks a noisy protest. She pokes Max’s shoulder with easy familiarity.

“Y-yeah,” Max agrees, even though she doesn’t feel high at all. She can taste smoke on her tongue, but she’s smoked with Chloe a few times before she-- before, and she knows that she’s lightly buzzed at most.

It’s her own room at Blackwell, she realizes as she looks around. Those are her lights strung up around the bed. Her photo wall beside the bed, except that some of the photographs are different. Quite a few of them, actually. She leans over to get a better look. Pictures of Chloe. Pictures of Rachel. Pictures of the three of them together: walking in the woods, sitting by the lighthouse, hanging out in the junkyard.

Max sitting on Chloe’s lap. Chloe with Rachel asleep against her shoulder. Max taking a selfie, startled by Rachel photobombing her with a kiss. Chloe smirking while Max and Rachel each kiss one of her cheeks. A closeup of their hands, fingers linked together - pale blue nails, black nails, unpainted nails chewed to the quick…

Holy shit. “We’re together?!” Max blurts out, unable to contain her shock.

“Uhhhhh.” Chloe chuckles nervously. “I mean, I sure hope so? Otherwise this would be hella awkward.”

Max pulls back enough to get a good look at Chloe, and oh. Oh, shit. Rachel’s not the only one underdressed. Chloe’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, and as for Max herself-- oh, shit. Max yanks a sheet over herself, because otherwise she’d be wearing nothing but her blush.

“Did you hit your head?” Rachel asks with growing concern, sweeping back Max’s bangs to check her forehead for bumps.

“No,” Max says, gathering her breath. “Well, at least, I don’t think so.” She takes a moment to collect herself and process the evidence of this new reality her photo jump created. Okay. Her jump was successful in saving Rachel, Chloe, and presumably Arcadia Bay. And somehow while she was on autopilot for those two years, she managed to not only get Chloe back as a friend but as a lover. And Rachel.

She looks at the two women before her: Chloe looking healthy and robust in a way that Max hasn’t seen since she left for Seattle five years ago, Rachel looking more radiant than she had even in Max’s imaginings and Chloe’s pictures. Both watching her and looking concerned as fuck.

“So,” Max says, “there’s a reason why I’m acting strange. I owe you both an explanation, and… it’s going to be a hard one to believe.” She clears her throat and tugs the blanket a little higher up. “And then, I suspect, there’s a lot you’ll need to explain to me.”

“...Sounds like this could take a while,” Chloe says seriously.

Max nods her head. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Rachel rises to her feet, pulling on a loose-fitting t-shirt that Max recognizes as one of her own. “Well, in that case,” Rachel says, “I’d better put on some coffee.”

#fanfic #life is strange #prompt fill #prompt fic #prompt ghost #lis #amberpricefield #tw suicide mention #life is strange spoilers #lis spoilers

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eternal-love-song · 4 years ago

Text

Trapped and Safe

Kyoka is proposed to by her partners and doesn't know what to make of it.

[BakuMomoJirou] [Established Relationship, Aged Up Characters, Polyamory, OT3, Relationship Negotiations, Marriage Proposals]

It was early when Kyoka woke up. She was used to waking up and rolling out of bed around noon, but feeling the empty sheets around her and having the soft streaks of sunlight pouring into the room had coaxed her out of bed earlier than usual. She ran her fingers lazily through her hair, trying to bring herself into some semblance of order as she crossed the room. Her too large T shirt had fallen off of one shoulder and her shorts had bunched up around her hips, but she could only worry about one thing at time before she'd gotten any breakfast in her.

Her eyes went to the kitchen first as soon as she opened the bedroom door, latching onto the plate that she saw there and making a bee line for the breakfast that had been left for her. It was a simple plate of toast and eggs, but it would be heaven with how hungry she was. She took a sip from the glass of orange juice right beside the plate, picked up her toast, and scanned the rest of the apartment for her housemates as she bit and chewed her food beside the table.

Kyoka was surprised to find them seated in the Livingroom, easily in sight of the bedroom door had she bothered to look their way, but they seemed as equally wrapped up in whatever they were doing as she had been with finding breakfast. They were sitting across from each other, glaring heavily as she had a quiet conversation. It was... unusual, she decided. Unusual enough that she decided to take her toast and investigate what they were arguing about so early in the morning.

She stopped when she got closer. There was a ring on the table. It was deceptively simple, a black band with an amethyst stone. It wasn't flashy, but it wasn't a casual gift either. Even she could tell that just from a glance.

She must have gotten close enough for them to notice, since they both broke their staring contest to look at her. Momo's expression because softer, welcoming. Katsuki's hardened and he looked away from her as if to spare her from the anger in his eyes.

"Kyoka, good morning! Did you sleep well?" Momo asked her. She held out a hand. Kyoka stepped forward to take it, letting Momo pull her into sitting diagonal of them at the table. She didn't answer, using her toast to keep from speaking as she tried to work out the tension between them.

Katsuki and Momo didn't bicker. His bad attitude had rarely, if ever, extended to her (though he and Kyoka could fight at the best of times with little provocation) and when she commented on his bad behavior he usually pulled himself together. Or tried to, at least. Change didn't happen over night and Katsuki would always be the aggressive sort. So was Kyoka, if she were honest, even if it was more of a passive aggressive.

She looked between them, looked at the ring, waiting for one of them to fill her in before she finished her toast and had to ask the question herself. As expected, Katsuki was the one that spoke first. He wasn't patient enough to wake her out like Momo would be.

"I got an offer from America," he told her. He still had that angry look on his face, directing it somewhere near the corner of the table so that he was facing her without directing his anger at her. It was one of the things she liked about Katsuki now as opposed to how he had been in high school. He kept his anger contained, directed, and didn't unleash it at every target he could see. "One of the top 5 heroes over there wants me to join their agency. They offered a lot of money. And freedom."

Kyoka raised her eye brows. Momo already had a lot of money and Katsuki never cared about that much anyway. Freedom, though, that was something Japan didn't offer as much of. And over here, he was always vying with Deku and Shouto for the top spot. She swallowed the last bite of her toast, wishing she'd brought her orange juice to combat the sudden dryness she felt in her throat.

"Okay?" she questioned. "You've gotten offers from them before. What's the big deal now?"

Momo's hand tightened around hers, seemingly involuntarily. Momo tugged a strand of her hair behind her ear. It was loose, she wore it down more often than not these days. It was eye catching and Kyoka found herself constantly distracted whenever she moved it over her shoulder or tucked it out of her way. Momo had always been beautiful, but it seemed to become more distracting over time. Kyoka's eyes jumped from Momo's hand to her eyes, knowing she was caught in her distraction by the soft smile Momo gave her.

The smile didn't last. It dimmed more quickly than Kyoka was ready for and she missed the sight of it hard. "They offered him a three year contract with their agency, meaning he would have to stay in America for that long."

Kyoka still wasn't seeing the problem here. "Okay?"

Momo bit her lip. "Perhaps this doesn't mean as much to you," she relented softly. "You aren't kept under contract the same way that we are with your undercover work. You've got more freedom than either of us." Momo laughed but it wasn't a happy sound. It sounded tired and bitter. Kyoka had to think it was a result of her arguing with Katsuki because Momo never sounded like that. "I'm still under contract for two more years myself, so I can't go anywhere."

The problem was starting to make itself clear.

"Oh." Her hands itched for a distraction and part of her wished that she wasn't holding Momo's hand still so that she could fidget. The woman was watching her too closely and Kyoka wasn't sure she had a response yet.

Hey," Katsuki said finally. He didn't look as angry as he had earlier, but he was still frowning. Not that frowns were unusual with him. He often kept a serious expression or a scowl on his face. "You get it right?"

"Tell me," she said instant of answering. Talking to Katsuki was easier than talking to Momo sometimes. She didnt have to be polite when she spoke to Katsuki, didn't have to hide her frustrations or snark. It's why they worked so well. Sugar and spice, expect that Momo was the only sugar between them.

"I want you to come with me," he told her. He met her eyes then, serious and straightforward. "I want you to marry me."

If Momo weren't holding her hand she may have gotten up right then. The statement seemed to put her into Flight or Fight mode. Momo was holding her to her spot.

"What the fuck?" she yelled. "You can't just ask me that out of nowhere!"

His expression didn't change at all. It would have been more satisfying to see him get angrier, but he didn't. "Looks like I just did."

Fight or Flight. Momo was holding her hand.

"What makes you think I would want to marry you?" she asked. It was a terrible to ask in anger, in panick, and she tried to talk over herself with another question. "What makes you think I would want to go to America?"

Katsuki rolled his eyes then, sighed. "I don't know, Kyoka, me? A chance to see another country? Freedom?"

The fact that he wasn't fighting her was putting her more on edge. She wasn't prepared for this. Momo squeezed her hand again, then touched Kyoka's arm with her free hand when that didn't get a response. "You don't have to go," Momo told her. "Of course you don't." Momo glared at Katsuki again, who returned it with all the intensity he'd had earlier. Aimed at Momo, but not at Kyoka who had been trying to pick a fight. Why?

"As I said, I have two more years on my contract, you can stay here with me," she smiled at her. "It's not as big of a deal as Katsuki was making it out to be."

"Then why were you too fighting?" she asked. That was a dumb question. She could think of a million more reasons for them to be fighting about this, but it was something to say. Something to distract herself from the feeling that Momo was the only thing keeping her on the ground. Something to distract from the way her body was tensing. Something to keep her from looking for more ways to get Katsuki to throw a verbal punch so that she didn't feel so...

"Isn't it obvious?" Katsuki asked her. He leanedf forward and flicked her in the forhead. "I know it's early but there's got to be something going on up there, right?"

She was able to slip her hand out of Momo's without thinking about it as she reached to cover her forehead. "Excuse you!"

Freedom and she wasn't prepared for it. She glared at Katsuki, who still wasn't glaring back. She felt wrong footed.

"There's only one ring on this table, Kyo, and three people. I know you can do that kind of math, right?" he rolled his eyes.

One ring. Her eyes widened and she looked at Momo, who had demurred since Kyoka pulled away, fidgeting with her hair. She looked up and caught Kyoka's gaze. "I would like it very much if you stayed here and married me instead," Momo told her. "I had already been planning..." she paused, looked at Katsuki, began again. "We had already been talking about how we felt about you, that's why we..." Her eyes went to the ring. Kyoka's did, too. The ring made in her colors, sitting lonely in the center of the table and waiting for her.

Fight or flight.

Katsuki took her hand this time, rooting her to the spot. "Hey, don't run from this, Kyo. It's a ring not a bomb."

"Funny thing for you to say." The snark was automatic but there wasn't any heat to it. The fight was draining out of her and all her avenues of her escape kept being cut off.

"You don't have to say yes," Katsuki told her. Her eyes flew to his face, but he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were locked on their hands and his expression was too soft, too real. It was okay when it was Momo, who was soft enough to everyone that she didn't feel the need to run. Didn't feel special, or could pretend tht she didn't. It was different when it was Katsuki, who never looked at anyone this way except her and Momo. Different to think your partners want to marry you instead of your housemates are fighting.

Kyoka closed her eyes. "I need a drink."

"I'll get it," Momo said. She could hair the chair lightly scrap across the floor as Momo got up, follow her steps across the room and count them to know exactly how far away she was.

"I mean it, Kyoka. You don't have to say yes," Katsuki repeated. "To either of us. Just because we want to, doesn't mean you have to. You can stay here with Momo if you want, or you can come to America with me, it's your choice."

"So you're going?" Kyoka asked as she opened her eyes. Momo had placed her orange juice on the table and she picked it up with her free hand. They seemed reluctant to not be holding onto her and Kyoka wondered if they knew her too well or if her panic was written all over her face.

"I want to," he told her. "I don't know if I want to sign a three year contract." His thumb stroked over the back of her hand. "I would like it more if I could be there with you."

"Why me?" Kyoka asked finally. "Why not each other?"

It was too surreal for them to be basing this around her. Katsuki and Momo had been dating long before she had come into the picture. She had been stumbling around with Denki, Mina, and Eijirou before she'd ended up crashing with them. She'd been busy feeling her way around the bottom of the hero charts before she fell into a relationship with two top ten pros. It didn't make any sense for them to want her so badly when they had each other.

Momo actually laughed at that. "You really don't know, Kyoka?"

"It's because we love you, idiot," Katsuki told her firmly. "Me and Mo, we'll be fine. In two years her contract will be up and we'll do whatever we want together. There's no conflict there, no argument. That's a certainty." He paused to catch her eyes, stroking the back of her hand again. "You though... you could decide to walk out of our life at any time and there's nothing we could do to stop you. Except this."

She sat up straighter in her seat, looking between them both. "You think... you think I'm going to leave you?"

"We don't know what you'll do," Momo admitted. "This works for us, though. Having you here with us, it's everything." Now Momo was holding her other hand. Kyoka felt as trapped as she did safe. She acknowledged that maybe they had a reason to worry when she'd spent so much of this conversation wanting to run. Maybe she was a flight risk that needed to be tied down to kept from escape. Funny how Katsuki had offered her freedom by trying to tie her down. Fumy how she believed him. "If Katsuki goes to America, we'll apart for two years. And it's not that we won't visit each other, of course, every chance we get! That's not... this though. So we thought..."

"We thought it was better to let you choose," Katsuki told her, picking up the trailing thread of Momo's sentence. "Whatever you want. You can come with me or stay, and one of us will pick up the slack."

Kyoka stared at her hands. Momo's were cupped around her almost pleadingly, keeping her entire hand trapped. Katsuki's hand was firm, still stroking her with his thumb. Sugar and Spice. She broke their hold to lace their fingers together.

"I choose both."

Kyoka looked up to find her partners wearing near identical expressions of surprise. She laughed. "You though I would say no, didn't you?"

Katsui joined in her laughter. "Yeah, I kinda did. Wasn't going to let that stop me, though."

She looked over at Momo, who had moved out of her chair was kneeling beside Kyoka, looking up at her with big pleading eyes. "You really mean it?"

She took her hand from Katsuki in order to cup Momo's face. "Of course I mean it."

Momo's eyes watered and she pressed her face into Kyoka's palm. "Oh, Kyoka! I'm so happy!"

Katsuki got of his chair to stand beside them, placing a hand on bother of their heads. "I'll miss you both if I have to go to America by myself."

"Dummy, then don't go," she said as she leaned her head into his side. "Find a different contract, or ask them wait. No one has to be left behind."

He huffed, leaning down to kiss her on her forehead. "You think you have all the answers today, huh?"

"Maybe not all the answers, but I have the one that matters," she said.

Katsuki looked at her questioningly and Momo also looked at her with a bit of confusion. Kyoka wasn't sure if she'd ever said it before. Not seriously and not like this. She took a deep breath and looked at them both. "I love you. I love both of you. That's what matters, right?"

Momo had her arms thrown around Kyoka's waist and Katsuki had trapped her upper body in a crushing embrace. She laughed, feeling trapped and safe and far more giddy than she had ever thought she would.

"I'm never leaving you both, got it? Don't think anything like that ever again."

#ELS Writing #BakuMomoJirou #Bakumomo #MomoJirou #Bakujirou #My Hero Academia #BNHA #OT3s Are My Heart #Momo Yaoyorozu #Kyoka Jirou #Katsuki Bakugou #Fanfiction

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clockworkswans · 4 years ago

Text

you are my dream.

summary: ‘I like Suho. Is it wrong that I look at Seojun more than I should too? That I...I also like how they watch each other? Do they feel the same way I do?' an ot3 fic to end love triangles for GOOD.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28763412

Suho. The Moon.

Keep to yourself. Manage what you can. Deal with the past by...well, don’t deal with the past.

Suho orbited these rules - more like self-inflicted shackles - with careful calculation. Grades? He could master. Friends? Didn’t need them. He didn’t need a repeat of the scar named Seojun. Couldn’t again deal with frosty glares, couldn't deal with the thin-lipped smirk coming from the mouth that once laughed softly beside Suho in the too-early hours of the morning.

Their shared hangouts and sleepily composed song drafts felt like a lifetime ago...

What can I give to return to those days? To listen as Seojun boasted over his gaming records...To watch his hands trace across his motorcycle, lip caught between his teeth...To hear Seojun laugh with me again...I’d swallow my pride if I only knew how to break down the wall between us. Seyeon would hate to see us so torn apart…

But as with after every winter, the spring came. Lim Jugyeong. His old friend, new friend, and stranger-on-a-rooftop-i’ll-never-see-again-but-wish-you-well.

She skipped, fell, stumbled and ran into Suho’s life before he could understand he’d been waiting for the rain to stop and the skies to clear.

He clumsily fell right back into her orbit; tentative, sullen, scared, alone, smitten and clinging onto the fragments of hope he found in each interaction, Suho began to breathe again. Jugyeong’s kindness warmed Suho out of his loneliness; he opened up bit by bit and in return, she shared her secrets and ambitions and fears.

But Seojun haunted Suho. His remarks and jabs prickled Suho out of his carefully designed nonchalance. Whereas Jugyeong brought him into the present, Seojun’s presence reminded Suho of a hidden part of the past, a self he’d locked away and was trying hard to keep away.

Suho knew his feelings were complicated. Even now, when he was happy dating Jugyeong, he felt frustrated and jealous. It was misdirected, Suho knew this. Each of Seojun’s lazy grins bit into Suho’s skin like a flame held too close. Seojun liked Jugyeong but Suho couldn’t focus on one emotion; he disliked the way Seojun looked at his girlfriend but there was something unnamable burning hot against his ribcage, as though Seojun was pressing his fingers to his chest and keeping Suho’s gaze right there, in the space between the three of them. An empty space didn’t seem to be lacking anymore. There was something new waiting to fill it.

I dare you, Seojun’s gaze seemed to tease. I dare you to see what you truly want.

Weeks of unspoken words - and fights over things that were never quite about the right thing - finally culminated in the car accident. He remembered running out after hearing Seyeon's song. Remembered Seojun's shout and the car hurtling towards them-

Suho blinked, awake and dreary. He could already sense the throbbing aches of his injuries and groaned.

He was hit with a horrible memory and gasped.

Seojun? Was he awake? Was he okay? Please don't take him from me too-

“Suho! Please, be careful,” the girl’s voice sounded far away but the arm it belonged to gripped him tightly, fingers trembling. “You want to sit up? Okay, no, no, let me…”

Suho’s heart calmed at the sight of Jugyeong sitting by his bed, her open face kind and concerned. He managed a small smile before wincing.

“I’m...okay. Seojun? Is he…?”

“His arm is broken but other than some bruises, he’s fine, Suho, I promise.”

Jugyeong’s eyes grew wet and her voice shook as she continued. “We were all so worried but you're both so stubborn and strong. Thank you for waking up. I don’t know what i’d do…” She broke off and gave in to the tears this time.

Suho pulled her close to him and they embraced until the pain didn’t seem so unbearable. Suho whispered ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’ and Jugyeong didn’t ask why. He was grateful because he had no idea if he was praying for himself or his own tears were for Seojun.

I can’t lose you either of you. I...like you both so much.

A knock sounded at the door. Jugyeong wiped away her tears with his sleeve - Suho suppressed a grin and nodded for her to open the door.

“Uh...hey. Glad you’re awake. Bye-”

“Seojun, wait-” the words burst from Suho before he could compose a response as equally cool and casual as Seojun’s.

His friend stood in a hospital gown, adorned in one of his favourite black and white leather jackets - of course he’d requested it as soon as he woke, Suho thought, fondness softening the embarrassment he felt. He scanned Seojun's face and traced the faint bruises and shadows under Seojun’s eyes.

Beautiful eyes. Why are his eyes so goddamn beautiful?

“Stare much? Do you want an autograph?” Seojun scoffed, ducking his head and running a hand through his dishevelled hair.

A quiet giggle came from Jugyeong and she beamed between them. “You two are just ridiculous, you know.”

Before either of them could question her further, the doctors began to do the daily rounds, but not before Suho felt his breath catch. In the small, plain hospital room filled with scars and tangled histories, a new page turned over. Between himself, Seojun and Jugyeong, something precious began to shape itself.

Jugyeong. The Stars.

Peaceful days bloomed after the accident. Jugyeong found herself enjoying her studies, studying outside of school to prepare for cosmetology exams and tests, and relaxing with her friends and boyfriend.

I’ve come so far from the trembling girl who had no friends. I’m so proud of myself.

Although Jugyeong didn’t yet have the courage to face school without makeup she knew the time was closer than it ever had been. She would get there at her own pace, learn to love herself gradually, be content to share her friends’ affections and trust they were genuine. They loved her for her.

Suho likes me for me.

She didn’t hide the goofy grin splitting her face. She didn’t care if people in the library stared at her. She was so happy. Especially as in the following weeks after their hospital discharges they’d been hanging out so often, she, Suho and Seojun.

In fact, Jugyeong couldn’t remember the last time they’d been apart. After school, they held movie nights at Suho’s place - when he was lonely and didn’t want to admit it so Jugyeong planned a crash-in with Seojun. Sometimes they went to the arcade or out for food and karaoke with their friends, followed by a late walk, just the three of them. It often ended in light bickering over who was walking who home; Jugyeong dealt with the two idiots by declaring whoever started the fight next ought to kiss the other.

They were both rather quiet afterwards and Jugyeong watched their cheeks turn violent shades of pink.

I like Suho. Is it wrong that I look at Seojun more than I should too? That I...I also like how they watch each other? Do they feel the same way I do?

Jugyeong wasn’t quite brave enough to ask Suho about his feelings, not when her own were fogged with doubt. All she knew was: the three of them filled in each other’s missing parts - Suho was quiet, smart and cool, Seojun burned bright and laughed loud, and Jugyeong?

Well, every group needs a hug-first-talk-later soul. She smiled to herself, happily lost in thought as she waited for Suho outside by the playground. She reached a hand to her mouth and slowly traced her lower lip. The memory of her first kiss with Suho in the forest filled Jugyeong with a sweet aftertaste. But it still felt...lacking. Not because it was Suho.

Someone was missing.

She never felt that way when it was the three of them hanging out; her best days belonged to their school lunch hangouts or shared classroom notes; they belonged to weekends of part-time work with Seojun and Suho visiting them on breaks; they belonged to soothing Suho when his father stressed him out again, or sharing makeup tutorials with Seojun’s sister and laughing to the sound of Seojun’s shower singing.

She’d even managed to convince the boys to indulge her cosmetics practices. Suho and Seojun would sit cross-legged on her bed as they let her exploit their pretty faces with makeup tutorials.

“Hold still, please,” she would beg as Seojun squirmed. Suho would scoff quietly beside him but blink quickly when Jugyeong turned her brush and attention his way.

“You both look beautiful,” she told them once, surprised by her own confidence. There was a vulnerability in the way Suho smiled back at her, and when Seojun tilted his head towards him, the smile only widened.

“What?” Seojun asked. “You only just realised I’m hot?” The husky quality of his voice made Jungyeong swallow. He was looking at Suho the same way he’d eyed her up in that photoshoot.

“No.” Suho’s voice cut through the tension but his words created a different kind of pull. “I knew a long time ago.”

“How long?” Seojun’s demand was a white-hot flame. His fist sat closed beside Suho's open hand on the bed, the space between them almost non-existent.

Suho shrugged and cleared his throat. “Long enough to bury it. Should we eat?” he casually said, changing the subject. Jugyeong didn’t realise she’d become frozen and was staring like a fool.

“O-oh. Yes. Let’s eat! You can help me order, Seojun,” she said quickly, tugging him up by the arm and dragging him to the door. “Stay and...listen to some music!” she told Suho, who blinked, adorably confused, as she dragged his best friend from the room and into the hallway.

She watched Seojun struggle to regain his cool for a few moments as he scanned the delivery menu, pretending his thoughts were anywhere other than in the room upstairs, beside Suho. But Jugyeong knew how scary it was to accept your true feelings. It had taken her a long while too.

“Are you feeling okay?” She placed the back of her hand to his forehead and Seojun’s gaze held her own.

“Well, I am now,” he said, his lips twitching. Despite the tease, she could read him better now. She shook her head, smiling fondly.

“You’re both fools. My fools.” She said it lightly enough but cupped a hand against Seojun’s cheek, smiling as he instinctively leaned into the touch. He seemed to realise a moment later and hesitated. She reached up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek before the courage escaped her again.

“W-what was that for?” Seojun’s eyes widened. He pressed a finger to the spot on his cheek.

“It was from both of us. He just won’t admit it. I thought you were a man, hm?” Jugyeong couldn’t help but tease him. Really, Seojun was such a bluffer. She adored it.

I hope we can all be happy together.

Seojun. The Sun.

Despite his numerous personal struggles with friends and his mother’s health, Seojun never paid much attention to who attracted his attention; the pretty girl smiling at him in the hallway of the trainee building, the barista at his favourite coffee shop who had dimples and a guitar tattoo on his right hand.

It never mattered. Beautiful girls and boys attracted Seojun’s eye but having met many trainees, friends and people across different friendship groups, he knew he’d always come back to him. Back to Lee Suho. And more recently, back to Jugyeong too.

Why’s it so hard to believe they have room for me?

The two people who could challenge him and appreciate his quieter sides and his passionate side too....Seojun wanted them. He wanted them both beside him, to be brave enough to admit it. He had forgiven Suho a long time ago for the pained history between them, and asked for forgiveness too.

But when the pain left, hope and something tender took shape; Seojun felt threatened by the overwhelming newness of it. The completeness of watching Jugyeong drag Suho up to sing with her in their favourite karaoke booth. The way they shared looks and included him too.

Jugyeong’s presence had been the glue to the frayed string of fate between Suho and Seojun, he knew this now. She’d woven her own string into theirs and created a kaleidoscope of colours known only to them.

Seojun felt the kiss coming a mile away and yet, it still surprised him.

After so much hard work, their graduation day arrived. Seojun found himself suited up and with nowhere to go after the ceremony. His family had gifted him flowers and after forcing him to take many, many photos, left him to enjoy the evening with friends. Only he’d been indecisive and excused himself from every option; there had been a few parties planned by rebellious students and one gathering at Soojin’s house but...he just wanted to feel at home. So he found himself at Suho’s place, where Jugyeong was already, and smiled.

“Hello. Room for one more?”

“Always,” she said, letting him in. Suho sat in a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up enough for Seojun to appreciate his muscle definition. He swallowed and greeted him as cooly as he could.

They sat together on the floor for a while and played some games and Suho teased them both about their studies finally paying off, to which Seojun and Yungyeon teamed up to beat him at the next game.

“I had a great tutor,” Jugyeong said, all giggly and delighted and looking at Suho like he was the moon. Which he was, Seojun supposed, eyeing him without shame. He was looking away anyway. Suho was cool and beautiful and Seojun felt he could burn up the sun for a bit of his attention. If Suho was the moon, Jungyeon was the stars; scattered in pieces of dreams, love and insecurities but binding everyone together.

If I'm the sun, I burn and burn until there’s nothing left.

“Careful, don’t hurt your brain.” Suho’s voice clipped at his thoughts. Seojun scoffed and nudged him with an elbow.

“Never fear, my friend. I can’t hurt what’s not there.”

“True.”

“Hey! You weren’t supposed to agree.”

“Then study more-”

“Excuse me but remember what I said would happen the next time you fight,” Jugyeong piped up. She gave them a warning look and although it was playful, Seojun felt a sense of competition light him up from the inside.

He leaned closer to Suho, placing his hands on either side of his legs.

“What? No words, smart boy?”

Suho kissed him first. It shouldn’t have caught Seojun off-guard, especially as he half-initiated it, but it did.

Stupid. You’re so stupid to think a kiss from Lee Suho wouldn’t absolutely destroy you. You fool. You’ve wrecked yourself for the both of them now.

The kiss was brief but hard and Seojun had enough time to slip a hand around the back of Suho’s head, drawing him closer. When he pulled away, their foreheads pressed together. He swallowed.

“I want to play you something. Both of you,” Seojun said. If he didn’t do it now, he’d never get a more perfect opportunity to try. He led them into Suho’s music room - pausing briefly to squeeze Suho’s hand as the brief pain they shared flared up. Suho stood by the piano and Jugyeong sat on the stool with Seojun, her body warm and safe against his.

He played for the both of them, the song he’d tried to start and finish and rewrite over and over again in their months together. The honesty of it poured out in gentle piano chords and a deeper, pained but intimate voice. Seojun was so proud of it. Proud of them. When he was finished, he turned and smiled.

“Thank you,” Jugyeong said. She met him halfway and this kiss was the opposite of his first with Suho; gentle and slow. She chased his mouth, surprising Seojun, and they shared a laugh as they relaxed and tried again. When they broke away, Seojun sensed Suho coming to stand closer, and they sat on the sofa together for a while, tracing hands, lips, lines and scars still not quite faded.

“Let’s make our own path,” Jugyeong said brightly, head against Seojun’s shoulder, hand in Suho’s free one. His other hand curled around the sofa to reach the back of Seojun’s neck, where he toyed with the strands of hair, making Seojun shiver and lean into his touch. The quiet intimacy of it was irreplaceable. Seojun knew he’d found a home amongst the two of them.

They fell asleep in Suho’s bed, tired and happy, Jugyeong wrapping her arms around Seojun’s chest as Suho cradled her from behind. They drifted off into dreams, curled around each other; the stars scattered between the sun and moon to keep them connected.

#true beauty fic #ot3 rights for everyone #i don't know how to tag this lol #seojun x suho x jugyeong #there w go

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iishmael · 5 years ago

Note

Can you tell us more about Lewis and OT3? Only if you have time of course but your ask really made my day!

“Okay, I think I have everything.” Alex was looking at the list of items he’d written down in his phone in deep concentration, trying to remember if he’d forgotten anything important. “Lads, hello, could you listen for a moment? Do we need anything else?”

Reluctantly, George and Lando stopped playing with the fruit that was on display in the organic supermarket they’d ventured into, already having sorted several oranges and bananas into smiley faces. “I’m pretty sure we’re good. You literally put every single product from the vegan aisle into the shopping cart.”

“Yeah,” Lando agreed and jumped on the cart, balancing his momentum and holding on so he started to slowly cruise away from Alex, George and the fruit without toppling over. “Let’s go pay! Lewis is going to love this!”

[[MORE]]

“I just want to do this right,” Alex said, worry making him crease his brows. “He’s always so nice to us and if we end up setting his house on fire by accident-“

“Oh my god, Alex, please let that die! It was one time-,” George groaned, but Alex ignored him. He was busy packing their groceries into the boot of the G-class they’d stolen out of Lewis’ garage.

“It’s just a BBQ, not rocket science!” Lando was playing with the car keys, content with watching George and Alex do all the work. He slowly inched towards the doors on the right hand side of the car. If he was fast enough and sat down in the driver’s seat they’d had to let him drive again.

“I know but-“

George put his hand on the small of Alex’ back and started rubbing small circles to calm him down. “Stop worrying, it’ll be fine. Even if we burn the tofu and even if we somehow don’t even manage to make a nice salad out of all of this - it’s the thought that counts, and Lewis is going to be so happy we organised a BBQ for him. Come on. Nico texted, they’re already at the airport. Let’s hurry up.”

With a sigh, Alex let George push him into the Mercedes and off they went, rushing to get the food ready for when Lewis and Nico would show up. There wasn’t really any special occasion, but Lewis had taken them karting last weekend and with the summer slowly coming to an end and the second half of the season right around the corner they wanted to do something in return. After long discussions that involved the suggestion of renting a trampoline, buying Lewis a tiger cub and only dressing up in TommyxLewis for the rest of the year, they’d settle for a nice, normal BBQ.

Sometimes they were still anxious that Lewis thought they were annoying. All three of them freely admitted that they could be quite the handful, especially when together, but Lewis was nothing but patient with them. Well, unless they were about to do something stupid, but even then he liked to stick to a ‘I’m not your dad I can’t tell you what to do but please don’t do that’ approach. They’d picked the BBQ because it had the least chance of producing the face Lewis made when he had to pull off that line.

After half an hour of squabbling over the grill and the correct way to dress the salad, they’d prepared quite the feast. From quinoa to guacamole and baked beet crisps to the grilled tofu slices, they’d really given it their everything.

“Oh my god I hear a car coming,” George said and jumped up. He’d managed to stop Lando from eating the beet crisps rather successfully but as soon as he got up Lando shoved a couple into his mouth. He was nervous, too, okay?

“Lando!” Alex pulled Lando over to where George and him were waiting, all three of them a little anxious to please Lewis. They held their breath, looking around the corner of the house in Ibiza where they’d been staying for the past week. Lewis and Nico had gone on a little holiday of their own, just some days of private time, and it was very generous to trust the boys with their summer house in the mean time.

“Surprise!”

Lewis almost jumped a foot into the air when the boys startled him, but when he noticed the three of them smiling excitedly he started to laugh. “You almost gave me a heart attack! Oh, but - are we having a BBQ? This looks so good!”

He quickly walked across the backyard that was overlooking the sea down below, Nico trailing after him with a soft smile on his face.

“It’s so good to see you all,” Lewis said and hugged them, squeezing Lando extra tight when he noticed that he was dangling the keys to the Mercedes off of his finger.

“We prepared a BBQ!” Alex announced, beaming at Lewis.

George nodded and as Lando hurried back to the grill to check that it still wasn’t going to catch fire, he explained: “It’s all vegan of course and we prepared everything ourselves. As a little thank you for always being there for us.”

“Oh,” Lewis said, and looked from the vast amounts of delicious food to George and back. He blinked, suddenly feeling like there was something in his eye. “You made that all for me?”

“Yeah!”

“You better like it because there’s no way all of this fits into your fridge!” Lando shouted over from the grill and poked around the coals a bit. “I actually think we can eat. Alex, can you fetch the - oh no, we forgot to buy wine!”

Lewis laughed at Alex’ horrified expression and threw his arm around his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Nico hoards wine bottles in the cellar. I’m surprised you’ve not found them during the week - Nico, darling? Will you fetch us something nice?”

“Sure.” With an easy grin Nico walked over to the table and grabbed a handful of baked beet crisps before he disappeared into the house.

“Thanks, lads.” Lewis waved Lando over and pulled the three of them into a group hug. “I really love this.”

George, Alex and Lando smiled proudly when they heard that, and proceeded to make Lewis and Nico try everything they’d thought up, drinking wine and laughing until they were all full and content under the settling night sky. It felt like a wonderful night to spend with their found family.~

#brocedes #best rookies ot3 #george/alex/lando #george/alex/lando ot3 #whats their tag omg laxorge? geolexando? alorgando? sksksksk #i wasnt sure if you meant brot3 or really ot3 so i kept it very open #as in romantic or platonic ot3 bc i can see both super easily with the babies 👀#im leaving it open to the imagination in this one!!#i LOVE THEM SO MUCH THOUGH ANON MY LITTLE HEART #LEWIS LOVED THEM #THEYRE HIS SONS #THEYRE NERVOUS BC HES TOO COOL FOR THEM BUT REALLY HE JUST #TEARS UP WHEN THEY DO SOEMTHING SO THOUGHTFUL FOR HIM #im sorry if theres typos i wrote this on my phone in the ask window bc in the worst #but gosh do i love this #f1 #sam writes #THANK YOU NONNY FOR THIS WONDERFUL ASK 💕💕💕#also i hope the read more works skskdjdjdj

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elite-polos · 5 years ago

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30 Days of Élite Fic ♛ Day 27: Birthday Pairing: Polo x Cayetana x Valerio Rating: E ‼ Notes: 1500 words of shameless OT3 birthday smut. I may have gotten kind of carried away. Warnings include drunk sex (dub-con), graphic descriptions, and a complete lack of proofreading

Somehow, Polo has ended up sprawled out naked on his bed, his legs spread with both his girlfriend and his boyfriend between them. He doesn’t know exactly how it happened, but he’s definitely not complaining.

The series of events is kind of fuzzy in his mind, but it went something like this: the three of them had gone out for a lovely romantic dinner to celebrate Polo’s birthday, and had potentially gotten a little bit carried away with the red wine. Then they’d tumbled into the backseat of Polo’s car, hands a little bit too all over the place, and it had taken waaaay too long to finally get back home. Polo’s moms, of course, were there to greet them, but they were gracious enough to give the three of them space; Polo usually celebrates with them on the day after, so he can have time with both his friends and his family.

Together, they’d dug into the ice cream cake that Valerio and Cayetana had made for Polo from scratch (he has no idea when they’d snuck it into his fridge), and opened another bottle of wine from his moms’ stash (they’d never notice it was gone). Then, Cayetana had snuck up behind him, her breath tickling the hairs on the back of his neck. “We have a surprise for you,” she’d whispered, nibbling his earlobe. “Meet us in your room in five minutes.”

It was at that point that Polo’s senses had gone kind of fuzzy. He’d stared at the microwave clock, waiting for the minutes to tick by, swaying contentedly in his seat. Then he’d scaled the stairs, gripping the railing for balance, and opened the door to his room. Where he’d found Caye and Valerio lying prettily on his bed, Caye in a black lace lingerie set and Valerio in matching black lace briefs.

Somewhere between then and now, Polo had completely forgotten how to think. And now Valerio is licking a thin stripe up Polo’s inner thigh, while Cayetana kisses messily across his abdomen. All Polo knows is that he feels so good.

“Happy birthday, mi amor,” says Cayetana, darting a glance up at him with her beautiful ocean-blue eyes. Polo knows it’s a cliché to compare eyes with the ocean, but right now he feels like he could drown in her and die happy.

“This is the best birthday ever,” he mumbles, smiling to himself.

Valerio blows cool air on the trail he’d traced with his tongue, and the chill sends a jolt straight to Polo’s cock. His breathing speeds up, and Valerio turns his head to smirk cheekily up at him. “Tonight is all about you, Polito,” he says in that sexy, sexy voice that makes Polo’s body go weak. “You’re always so good at making us feel good…” He kisses the crease of Polo’s leg, which he’s discovered is especially sensitive. “But now, it’s your turn. Just relax and let us do all the work.”

Of course, this goes against all of Polo’s natural instincts. If there’s one thing he loves in bed, it’s doing everything to please his lovers. But feeling both of his favorite people there with him, their bare flesh hot against his, is enough to make him forget about it, at least for now.

Cayetana moves up to kiss Polo on the lips, and he moans when her tongue slips inside his mouth, purely from the sensation of her soft, frosting-flavored lips on his. Caye runs her fingers through his hair, coming to settle on his jaw. “You’re so beautiful,” she tells him.

“No you’re beautiful,” Polo retorts, and Cayetana laughs.

“Ladies, ladies, you’re both beautiful,” Valerio teases, popping up to join the kiss. There has definitely been a learning curve of figuring out how to kiss between the three of them, but Polo doesn’t think there’s anything better than being kissed by the two people he’s in love with, then watching them kiss right in front of his eyes.

“Now, Polo,” Valerio says, rubbing his thumb over Polo’s nipple and making him gasp. “What do you want us to do?”

Polo realizes he doesn’t know what to do with this question. He always prefers to let them do whatever they want with him. “J-just…,” he manages through his labored breath (their hands haven’t stopped exploring his body, and it’s making it very hard to concentrate. “Fuck me,” he finally gets out, as if that were possibly not what they were going to do already.

Valerio looks at Cayetana. “The birthday boy wants to be fucked. Do you think we can do that?”

Cayetana shrugs like she’s casually considering the suggestion. “I think we can, yeah,” she decides. Heat rushes through Polo’s body, and he thinks he moans again, but he’s not really sure if the sound came out of his mouth or not.

Then, finally, Valerio’s long fingers curl around his cock, and Polo instinctively bucks up into his hand, seeking friction. “God, you look so fucking sexy like this,” Valerio groans. He still has those incredible lace briefs on, and he uses his free hand to palm himself through the fabric.

Meanwhile, Caye takes a pillow from the head of the bed and lifts up Polo’s hips to place it under him. Polo knows exactly what comes next, and he squirms anxiously in his place.

Valerio is still stroking his erection too slowly to really satisfy him, but it’s not slow enough to be considered torturous so Polo can’t object. He shifts to basically be humping the bed, just so he can fondle Polo’s balls as he continues the rhythm of his other hand, and Polo whimpers a little bit too loudly. “Fuck,” says Valerio, his breath hitching, and Polo thinks briefly how great it is that he’s not even doing anything, but Valerio is still enjoying himself.

Cayetana has gotten up to retrieve the bottle of lube she’d brought in her purse (does she always keep that in there? Polo wonders). Polo is getting more and more restless by the second, needing to feel something inside him. But when she comes back over, Polo reaches up to her with his hand, pawing feebly at her bra strap.

“You want this off?” she says softly, letting the second strap fall coyly off her shoulder. Polo just nods, open-mouthed. So she unhooks her bra and the lacy garment falls to the floor. Polo clumsily massages her breast, then reaches between her legs to feel how she’s soaked through the flimsy material of her panties, but it’s all too short-lived because soon enough she’s climbing back onto the bed and pushing his legs up.

Polo watches with blurry vision, transfixed by the sight of her opening the bottle and spreading the liquid all over her fingers. He remembers randomly how she loves to get her nails done all pretty and girly, but a few days ago she’d gotten them removed and cut short. It hadn’t occurred to him that this would be what her fingers would be doing.

She warms up her fingers before beginning to caress his entrance. By now Polo can take her fingers no problem, but she’s always considerate in making sure he’s fully prepared anyway. Once she feels he’s relaxed enough, she pushes the first finger in.

“Ah, ahh,” Polo moans, adjusting to the sensation. Valerio spits on his hand, wetting Polo’s cock and speeding up his motions, and there is way too much going on for Polo to process it all but everything feels good, great, amazing.

Cayetana slips a second finger inside him, starting to work them in and out in earnest. She’s so good with her fingers; where Valerio can reach deeper inside him, Cayetana is more precise with her motions, and she knows how to find the spot that makes him see stars. Polo knows he’s not going to last much longer, the sensations are too overwhelming, but he’s enjoying it too much to care if he cums.

“Do you want a third?” Cayetana asks, her face pressed against his thigh.

“Y-yes, God, please, yes,” Polo pleads, and Cayetana is quick to comply.

Her fingers are curling inside him, brushing against his prostate in that way that makes him lose all control, and Valerio’s wrist is twisting as he jerks him off, and Polo can’t hold on any longer. He cries out an unintelligible mix of both of their names as he cums all over his chest, his body jerking as he rides out the most intense orgasm of his life.

It takes a while for Polo to come down to Earth, but when he blinks open his eyes, both Valerio and Cayetana are smiling at him.

“That was...definitely the best birthday present I could’ve asked for,” Polo sighs, still basking in the endorphins.

“Who says we’re done?” Valerio says. “We still have all the time in the world.”

Polo knows he’s saying that the night is just beginning, but he kind of hopes it also means the rest of their lives.

#30days #elite #elite fanfiction #elite smut #polo x cayetana x valerio #polo #cayetana #valerio #i wrote a thing

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chantillyxlacey · 5 years ago

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Holiday Spirits Gift! An OT3 mer-AU in a series of vignettes

Merry Xmas @fishbones-wishbones!! I had so much fun writing this! Your prompt was about as tailor-made for me as it could possibly be lol-- I may have gone a little overboard with it, to the point where it might not even stop with what I’ve got written here-- I’m highly tempted to spin off these vignettes into a long-form fic-- thank you so much for the inspiration!! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it :3 Merry Christmas!

One: In Which Vivi and Arthur have become castaways

Vivi woke up sunburnt, sore, and salt-crusted, the taste of that same awful stuff burning her mouth. The last time she’d woken up to comparable discomfort had been the day after she’d been arrested by the Regnate’s men-- but no matter how unpleasant the waking up was, it did at least mean that she hadn’t drowned. ‘I’m still alive’ was always a good square one to start from.

Despite easing her eyes open slowly, the bright nearly-noon sunlight still stung like needles, so harshly that her optimism was nearly overcome by the urge to just roll over and go back to sleep for awhile. She valiantly resisted the temptation and sat up, ignoring the aching protests of what had to be every individual bone, muscle, and tendon she had to her name.

Even breathing scraped at her lungs and aggravated her rib cage, but the air was fresh and clean, and with each breath the fog cleared from her head more and more. The more sensible she felt, the more miraculous it seemed that she had really made it to see today. She’d more or less resigned herself to death last night, though she’d refused to just give herself up to it for as long as she had the strength to cling to that swath of wood with--

“Arthur!” she gasped, prepared despite her weariness to launch to her feet and scour the beach inch by inch to find him-- but that didn’t turn out to be necessary. He was sprawled on the sand right beside her, still unconscious but clearly breathing.

He looked about as worse for wear as she felt: his skin was an angry red from the sun and peppered with bruises and scrapes from the impact that had scuttled the ship. When she leaned down to shake him gently, trying to rouse him, she could see salt crystals clinging to his eyelashes.

“Arthur-- hey, Arthur!” she called softly, and after a moment he started to stir, a thin groan ekeing between his lips. It turned into a sharp hiss through his teeth when he tried to open his eyes-- Vivi didn’t know if it was the sun or the salt that had stung him more.

She helped him to slowly sit up, and couldn’t stifle a laugh at the way his hair had dried into stiff peaks that stood almost completely vertically.

“If you’re laughing at me that’s a good sign I’m not dead, I guess,” he rasped, then coughed and rubbed at his eyes.

“You guess right!” Vivi thumped him lightly on the arm, careful to avoid his sunburn. “Congratulations on not drowning!” He laughed at that, though it still sounded a bit like a cough.

“How--?” he asked.

“No idea!” Vivi said cheerfully, and he grinned at her for a moment before turning to stare pensively out at the sea.

“Okay then-- What do we do from here?” he asked.

“No idea,” she said, more soberly. She’d read her share of stories about shipwrecked adventurers, but how much could those stories help them through the real ordeal? “We’ll figure things out as we go, I guess.” She willed confidence into the words. Arthur hummed softly, still watching the waves.

His brow furrowed and he squinted, then suddenly shot to his feet, craning his neck and shading his eyes from the sun.

“What is--? Vivi, do you see that?”

“See what--?” Before she even finished asking she spotted it too-- a huge, fast-moving shadow under the water’s surface several yards out from the shore. Distance and the blinding glitter of the sun on the waves made it impossible to guess what it might be, and within moments it vanished entirely, fading into the endless blue.

“What do you suppose…?” Arthur murmured, more to himself than to her. Vivi shrugged, more to herself than to him. For awhile they watched the sea bob and roll, but the shadow did not reappear.

Two: In which Vivi and Arthur explore

The myriad of books Vivi had read about exotic locales, swashbuckling novels and natural histories alike, combined with Arthur’s practical experience travelling served them rather well as they took stock of their surroundings.

It was an island, or could loosely be called that at least; they’d swept up on what seemed to be a ring of clusters of sand and marsh, held together by tree roots that started several feet before ground level, as though the trees themselves were balanced atop scuttling insect legs. Vivi had read about mangrove forests like this one, but had never seen so much as an illustration before and hadn’t imagined just how eerie the whole tableau turned out to be; Arthur had seen them before but had never learned the name.

The marsh ring wrapped around a lagoon where the water was the clearest, most shining blue Vivi had ever laid eyes on. To their great surprise it turned out to be entirely fresh, despite opening up into the mangroves in several places, where seawater should have been able to leak in and render it too brackish to safely drink. They weren’t about to dwell on the impossibility though; instead they drank until the burn in their throats cooled and the taste of brine was washed from their mouths.

No longer distracted by thirst, they contemplated the second, smaller island nestled in the center of the lagoon. It looked to be real, solid land rather than marsh, but it was difficult to tell: trees clustered there even more densely than in the mangrove, trailing weeping curtains of leaves to brush the water’s surface and shroud the little island from sight.

“I’ve never seen trees that look like these before…” Arthur murmured. “Have you ever read anything about something like that?”

“I’ve read about trees with colorful bark before,” she answered. “But in greens and reds, not blue. And I’ve never heard of a tree with white leaves at all.”

The lagoon was too deep to wade across, but not too wide to swim-- or it wouldn’t have been if they weren’t still tired and aching from the shipwreck, and not too keen on getting into the water again from the same. They’d have to investigate it later, after they took care of the more pressing need to find food and a place to take shelter.

When they returned to the beach they’d woken up on, Arthur’s arms laden with fruit picked from various of the island’s trees (none of which should be growing in a mangrove; but again, they weren’t about to look any gift horses in the mouth, no matter how impossible they were) and Vivi’s with bits of dry wood for a fire, they were surprised to find that more had washed onto the shore while they were away.

Swathes of sailcloth of varying sizes were heaped just out of reach of the rolling surf, along with a mismatched pile of tools, two knives, several planks of wood and lengths of rope, and one badly dented tin bowl. Strangest of all, though, was the large fish stranded far enough up on the sand that it couldn’t have scuttled itself there, still alive and twitching weakly.

“There’s no way this happened just on accident,” Vivi said.

“No…” Arthur agreed, sounding nervous. Vivi didn’t blame him-- if anyone else from the ship had survived and made it to the island as well-- They wouldn’t be terribly thrilled to share a sanctuary with a prisoner and a traitor to be sure, and neither of them were in much of a state to put up a fight.

“We should get back into the trees,” Arthur said, clearly thinking along the same lines. “And just wait and see-- right?” He was already backing up as he spoke, and Vivi followed.

They waited amongst the strange, ghostly roots until the first lavender tinges of sunset crept into the sky and the fish had long since stopped moving. No one came, but they crept back out into the open with caution anyway.

“Arthur, look--” Vivi gestured at the sand when she’d put the firewood down. “There’s no footprints.” “That’s-- Hm. That’s worse somehow, actually. So... what does that mean, exactly? Did a ghost do all this, or what?”

“Thoughtful ghost,” Vivi mused, starting to arrange the firewood and shave off some bark to catch sparks. “Do you know how to cook fish?” “Uh.”

“We’ll figure that out as we go, too,” Vivi laughed.

The fish ended up unevenly cooked, but they were too hungry to care much, and it tasted alright anyway. They ate their fill and slept like the dead.

Three: In which Vivi and Arthur develop routines

The days passed much like the first-- they foraged and tried their luck fishing, and they built a fairly sturdy lean-to between some of the more tightly packed trees, which they shared. The first few times they had woken up to find that the chill of the night had nudged them into each other’s arms as they slept had been awkward, but now they were so used to it that they dropped all pretense, and fell asleep holding one another from the start.

There was plenty of opportunity to explore the central island once their lingering aches subsided, but they never did. Something about it was-- offputting. It had the air of an intensely private place, and even Vivi’s usually insatiable curiosity was cowed in the face of its forbidding aura. They ventured into the lagoon itself to bathe, but never past the deepest point.

Each day also saw a new cache of useful flotsam awash on the sand where they had first woken up: more boards and rope, metal utensils, and one especially lucky morning, one of the smaller iron cookpots from the galley. Something like that could never have just floated up on its own, but they never saw any sign of whoever it was helping them.

Their anonymous angel also left them food. Sometimes it was another fish, sometimes a pile of live clams left in a pit full of seawater dug into the sand, and once a pile of seaweed that Vivi had vaguely recalled could be boiled to make a broth. Whoever it was, they never left any footprints, or any other evidence of their existence but their gifts.

“Maybe it is a ghost,” Vivi mused one evening as she dug a roasted clam out of its shell with a twig.

“What kind of ghost would be so interested in feeding a couple of castaways?” Arthur wondered back, taking a gulp of the sweet water they had recently discovered was hidden inside the hard green fruits that grew on some of the island’s trees closer to the shore. Vivi chewed her clam thoughtfully, but ultimately had no answer beyond a hum and a shrug.

“Getting better at cooking these,” she said instead, reaching for another. “Not that you’d know.” She wrinkled her nose at Arthur, who preferred to eat his raw. Vivi found it detestable. He grinned at her, unrepentant, and held the palm fruit out to her. She drained the last mouthful, then flopped against Arthur with a sigh and hooked one arm into the crook of his elbow, sliding the other around his waist.

She couldn’t be absolutely certain, between the night’s darkness and the orange cast of the firelight, but she’d be more than willing to bet that the color in Arthur’s face wasn’t just from sunburn. She snuggled closer and closed her eyes, smiling to herself when she felt Arthur’s cheek lean against the top of her head.

They sat like that for awhile, warm from more than just the fire, and listened to the night sounds. Vivi spent a few minutes weighing the pros and cons of letting go of Arthur long enough for her to lean up and kiss him. She gradually became aware of a new sound-- something that stood apart from the sigh of the waves and the rustle of leaves, and shook her from her thoughts. Arthur shifted, raising his head as though listening too.

“Artie? Are you… singing?” She already knew the answer before he shook his head-- the sound was distant, so far away that it had to be coming from out at sea. “Could that be a whale? I’ve read that they sing but I never thought I’d get to hear it-- Can you hear whalesong from shore like this?”

“You can,” Arthur said distractedly, staring out at the waves with his brow furrowed. “But I’ve never heard any whale that sounded like this before, though… This sounds too much like…”

“It sounds like a person singing, right? Maybe a ship…” She didn’t finish the thought. The moon was full and fat tonight, and if a ship had been so close they should be able to see it, but nothing interrupted the smooth, dark line of the horizon.

“Most captains are smarter than to risk their ships sailing through this part of the sea,” Arthur murmured. The captain of the Morgause had thought himself above those stories, and everyone but the two of them had paid for it dearly.

Four: In which Vivi and Arthur meet someone interesting

Whatever she’d thought they’re mysterious benefactor would be like-- she’d never have guessed he was a real-- living, breathing, real and right there-- merman.

He was enormous; had he been a man standing on two legs he would have been at least ten feet tall, even if she estimated on the conservative side. The broad, sinuous tail that trailed in the surf behind him was nearly that long all on its own, covered in ink-dark scales that glittered with startling violet iridescence where the sun hit. White stripes marched along its length, looking for all the world like he’d simply had ribs painted on.

His huge hands, each big enough to cover Vivi’s entire torso, were webbed and the fingers tipped in blunt claws, but they handled the gift they’d left for him with utter delicacy. Pale slashes of gills lined his sides, standing out starkly against his brown skin. Other than those details however, from the waist up he looked remarkably ordinary.

Well-- perhaps ‘ordinary’ wasn’t the right word. Remarkably human was probably more accurate; ‘ordinary’ simply didn’t take into account just how astonishingly... appealing his appearance was. Even with half his face covered by an overhang of dark violet hair, Vivi could already tell that he had to be the most attractive man she’d ever seen in her life. Arthur looked just as gobsmacked as she felt, standing beside her and looking down at the same impossible figure on the beach.

“Are you--” Vivi started to call out, and the merman’s head snapped up, his face a mask of shock for a single moment before it-- disappeared.

That handsome, almost-entirely-human face was replaced in an instant with a fanged skull, twin sparks of magenta burning in the empty sockets where eyes should belong. Arthur yelped a curse and tried to scrabble backwards so fast that the powdery sand under his feet gave way and he crashed down on his back. Vivi sucked in a gasp, but it was more amazement than fear.

“Wait!” she called, darting forward even as the merman started to retreat backwards into the surf. “Please, wait-- don’t go just yet!”

As she got closer, she realized that he hadn’t actually shape-shifted or dissolved into shadow and bone-- his skin had simply changed colors, as she’d read certain sea creatures were able to do. Most of his color had deepened to a shade nearly identical to his tail, with patches leeched of color in shapes that mimicked a skeleton.

The patterns faded and his skin returned to human tones as she approached; his eyes, however, remained the same. The whites weren’t white, but as black as his pupils, and the irises were vividly pink. The look in them was guarded and uncertain.

“Was--” She paused. There was no guarantee he’d understand her. There was no reason to assume he could speak English, or any human language at all-- but what else could she do but at least try to communicate? “Was it you who’s been helping us?”

For a moment she thought he didn’t understand, and felt a stab of dismay at how to bridge a language gap that vast-- but then he nodded, face still tight with wariness. “You rescued us, too, didn’t you?” Another nod, although there was an odd hesitation to it, his eyes downcast in something almost like-- shame?

“Did you sink the ship?” Vivi gaped at Arthur, who by now had stood back up and come to her side, aghast that he’d jump to that conclusion. When she looked back to the merman, however, he nodded again.

“It came too close to the island,” he lamented. His voice surprised her: a soft tenor that didn’t seem like it should belong to someone so huge and imposing looking, and laced through with an accent she couldn’t quite place. As he spoke, she could see sharp, triangular teeth flashing behind his lips like pearls. “I’m tasked by My Lady to keep any intruders away, by any means necessary.”

“Why save us, then?”

“You didn’t deserve to drown. You kept each other afloat through the storm, you helped each other even though it put your own safety at risk.” He sounded as though he was reasoning it out to himself as much as explaining to them. “I couldn’t just… Duty or not, I couldn’t just let you die.”

Vivi and Arthur shared a glance. Neither of them were quite sure how to respond. After an uncomfortable silence, the merman offered back the amulet they had made. Vivi blinked.

“You don’t like it?” she blurted.

“N-no-- that isn’t it. I thought you would want it back. That you wouldn’t want to give a gift to someone who…”

“Someone who saved our lives, and has been looking out for us ever since?” Vivi offered.

“Your lives wouldn’t have needed saving if it hadn’t been for me.”

“We kind of needed saving before the ship sank, to be honest,” Arthur said. “There wasn’t anything good waiting for a couple of prisoners when we made port.” “Prisoners?” He sounded horrified.

“Vivi was arrested unfairly and I got caught trying to help her escape. That kind of mutiny gets you hanged-- If it hadn’t been for the storm they probably wouldn’t even have waited ‘til we came ashore.” “I’m sorry,” the merman murmured.

“You don’t have to be. Like I said, you saved our necks.” Arthur offered a wry half-smile, but the merman still looked unsure.

“What’s your name?” Vivi knelt on the sand before him-- even lying on his belly and sunk low in shame, his gaze was even with hers.

“My-- what?”

“Oh--” Vivi wondered if she’d just asked something incredibly stupid, or perhaps even insensitive. “Do you… have a name? Something you call yourself?”

“Yes, of course,” he said, still sounding completely baffled. “I’ve just-- I’ve never had to introduce myself to someone before. My name is Lewis.” It was an astoundingly ordinary name for a mythical-- or supposedly mythical-- being to have. Vivi had to stifle a laugh that was wholly inappropriate for the moment, but she did smile at him.

“Thank you for saving our lives, Lewis.”

He ducked his head again, though this time it seemed more like a flustered movement than an ashamed one.

“You’re… welcome,” he mumbled.

The rest of the afternoon was spent sitting on that beach, trading further introductions and asking Lewis questions about the island.

They learned that the smaller central island, which they still hadn’t yet dared to explore, housed a temple hidden among the weeping trees. It belonged to goddess who Lewis would not name, only calling her “My Lady.”

There were not-- at least as far as Lewis knew-- other merfolk, and he had no parents or family. His Lady had created him with magic for the sole purpose of guarding her island and her temple from any intruders-- the second-to-last line of defense after the enchanted storm she had concocted with magic stole from an ancient rival; he was under orders to sink any ship that braved that tempest, though thankfully crews that were bold or foolish enough to do so were a rarity. Past him, there were wards growing within the trees on the central island itself to repel trespassers. Vivi and Arthur were the first humans to ever set foot on the isle to test them.

“Is it safe here?” Arthur asked. “If your, ah-- your ‘Lady’ comes back to find us here…”

“I wouldn’t expect her to. There are decades between her visits, and she was here less than a season ago. She won’t be returning any time soon.”

Most other questions about his Lady Lewis was cagey at best about, but on any other topic he was happy to give thorough answers. He had apparently never had a conversation with anyone other than the Lady he served before, and he seemed to be enjoying it immensely. They talked through the entire evening, parting ways only when it grew so late that sleep became impossible to fight.

Five: In which Lewis procures a very strange looking fish for lunch

Arthur eyed the lumpy creature with amused skepticism. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Lewis, but I really hope this guy tastes better than he looks.”

Lewis didn’t seem the least bit offended. “He isn’t much to look at, that’s true,” he laughed. “But we don’t know-- perhaps among fish he’s a real Prince Charming.”

“Isn’t that you, instead?” Arthur grinned, then realized just exactly what it was he’d said. His and Lewis’ faces were mirror images of wide-eyed surprise until Arthur went pink from the tip of one ear across to the other and he turned his attention to the cookfire with sudden enthusiasm. “So uh-- how’s the best way to cook his highness? Does the fire need to be hotter, do we need more firewood--?”

Lewis didn’t blush-- Vivi wondered if he could blush at all-- but he looked equally flustered as he explained that this kind of fish needed a more delicate heat, and how they should wrap it in palm leaves. Vivi smirked to herself, eyeing the way that their hands seemed to ‘accidentally’ brush far more often than could be entirely accidental as they prepared the fish together.

Six: In which Lewis and Arthur have a heart to heart

“I’ve been wondering something,” Arthur hesitated. Lewis flicked the very tips of his fins against Arthur’s arm.

“You can ask anything, Arthur. I’ve told you that before.”

“How did you learn so much about the world? You said you’ve never left this island before, but you know a lot-- did-- did you used to be human, Lewis?” Lewis looked surprised, then sad.

“No, Arthur. I’ve always been this.”

“Wait-- I didn’t mean it like--” “I know you didn’t; I know you’d never. I just…” He sighed. “There was a man that My Lady used to create me. I never really was him-- I don’t have any of his memories-- but whatever knowledge he had is now mine. So I know a great deal about a world I’m not a part of.”

“That’s-- so she turned him into you? I’m not sure I understand.”

“No. I wondered myself, when I was new. She told me that he did not become me any more than the earth a seed is planted in becomes the tree.”

“....I still don’t really get it.”

“I didn’t either,” Lewis laughed ruefully. “She said that whether I understood my origin or not didn’t matter, as long as I understood my purpose.”

Without thinking, Arthur laid his hand over Lewis’.

“Why haven’t you ever left?” He asked. “You said your Lady only even comes around every few decades, you could just… go, and see the world for yourself.”

“I was afraid.” Lewis drew abstract shapes in the sand with one blunt claw. “My purpose here isn’t much, but it’s more than I’d have anywhere else.”

“Didn’t you ever get lonely though?” “Not really. And now I never am,” he looked up at Arthur, and finally smiled again.

Seven: In which Lewis invites Vivi and Arthur over for dinner

“Where on the island do you live, anyway, Lewis?”

“Not anywhere on it-- Under it. Beneath the temple there’s a large cavern, and that’s where I live.”

“Oh,” Vivi hummed thoughtfully. Lewis tilted his head, seeming confused.

“Did you want to see it?”

“Isn’t it underwater?” Arthur wondered.

“The entrance is, but there’s a pocket of air in the cave, and a little beach. It might be too far for you to swim on your own but I could carry you--!” He broke off, folding his hands sheepishly. “Ah-- if you didn’t mind me doing that, of course.”

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Vivi said with a flutter of her eyelashes that was playful but nonetheless made Lewis duck his head shyly.

Lewis met them at the lagoon and they waded in until the water reached their chests. With absolute gentleness, Lewis scooped them against his chest, one of them in each of his massive arms.

“Take as deep of a breath as you can,” he said, and waiting until they had before diving down with them. The water was warm at the lagoon’s surface, but it rapidly cooled as they delved deeper and the light that filtered through her eyelids dimmed. If it hadn’t been for Lewis and his warmth, she didn’t think she would have been able to stand the cold, even though it was mercifully brief. The water warmed back up, and the light returned.

Just when Vivi’s chest was starting to burn with the need for air, the water broke above her head. She sputtered and drew in a long, grateful breath, swiping water from her eyes until she could focus.

“Oh--!” She didn’t know where to look first-- The cave would have been beautiful even unadorned: the ceiling was high-- so high it must have breached the surface and belonged to the ground of the island itself, and peppered with holes that let sunlight stream in. Embedded in the rich black stone of the walls were freckles of micah, which glimmered faintly and reflected like stars in the water’s surface. Even the sand making up the cave’s beach seemed to have a pearly sheen to it.

Garlands were strung in a complex web throughout the cave. Abalone shells and bits of sea glass clinked gently along their lengths, throwing dancing blots of color around the chamber. A band of colorful mosaic, stretching from just above the water line to presumably as high as Lewis could reach, wrapped about two-thirds of the way around the cavern walls. Even clearly incomplete it was gorgeous-- a lovely and chaotic mix of abstract shapes, pictures of sealife, and even maps of constellations. In the water tiny, colorful fish darted around them like living jewels.

Along one wall were natural ridges of stone that Lewis had utilized as shelves, which were covered with an array of dishes and vessels. Some of these were made of stone, some were fashioned from large shells, and a few seemed to be human-made and had probably been salvaged from the seabed. A fire pit sat in the middle of a stretch of pebbles further away from the water’s edge, and a wooden rack nearby seemed to be a setup for drying out firewood. The trinket Vivi and Arthur had made was set in a prominent niche in the cave wall, directly in a beam of golden sunlight.

“It isn’t very much,” Lewis said sheepishly as he set them on the sand.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Arthur nudged him lightly with his elbow. “Lewis, this place is incredible!”

“It’s like something from a dream!” Vivi agreed, beaming up at him. She clung to his bicep, having to use both her arms around just to reach all the way around. He cast his eyes down and clearly would have been blushing if he could. He’d let them go, but his arms curled gently back around them now.

After a while, Lewis lit a fire with a flint and steel, and prepared a pot of soup for them that was more elaborate than any Vivi had seen before, and was also about the tastiest thing she’d ever eaten. They spent hours sitting by the fire, so absorbed in talking and sharing their meal, that they hardly noticed as the light filtering into the cave from above shifted into rosy hues, then faded. Rather than face the cold of the depths, especially not in the chilly night air, Vivi and Arthur opted to bed down in the soft sand of the cave’s beach.

Eight: In which Vivi is happy precisely where she is

Vivi woke up warm and serene. For a few blissful minutes she didn’t open her eyes or think about where she was, just basked in the comfort of the moment. When she did open her eyes at last, her field of vision was filled with a swathe of skin-- Lewis’ specifically.

Though he’d fallen asleep alongside them on the main beach plenty of times before, Lewis had always kept a respectful distance between himself and the two of them. Now, in the much smaller space of the cave, the three of them had gravitated together as they slept. Vivi was tucked against the expanse of Lewis’ chest, and she could feel Arthur’s arm draped over her waist, as well as the tickle of his breath against the back of her neck. Lewis’ tail was curled up around her and Arthur both, as though holding them in just his arms wasn’t enough.

Vivi was who knew how far from home, from any kind of civilization at all, and at the moment she had no idea how or even if she’d get back. Somehow, she didn’t find the thought distressing-- in fact, she’d never felt as safe or as much like she belonged somewhere as she did right now, wrapped up in Lewis and Arthur’s warm embraces.

They’d figured things out for themselves as they went pretty well so far, and Vivi didn’t doubt that they could keep right on doing so. She craned her neck up to brush a kiss under the edge of Lewis’ jaw, which was as far up as she could reach, and threaded her fingers through Arthur’s. Sighing contentedly, she settled back down into sleep.

#msaholidayspirits2019 #Mystery Skulls #MSA #Mystery Skulls Animated #lewvithur #Lewis Pepper #Vivi Yukino #Arthur Kingsmen #the ot3 #lacey writes

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ayurileopardsdream · 5 years ago

Text

First Time - Chapter 1

Description: Elena thought it was a good idea to try going out into the field on a group mission for the first time. It doesn't end well, but her loving girlfriends make her feel much better.

Author’s note: This story is also posted on AO3. Little bit NSFW close to the end but they’re JUST showering, I promise.

Rating: T

Words: 6,545

Series: Charlie’s Angels (2019)

Au: First Mission? First Times? Idk.

Characters / Pairing: Jane Kano/Sabina Wilson/Elena Houghlin - OT3

Genre: romance, hurt & comfort, fluff, angst.

Link to the AO3 copy: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22864708/chapters/54647899

It was just after one of their toughest missions yet. It was stupid to let Elena out into the field. Sabina thought she was ready, and Jane wasn’t sure. Maybe she was just overprotective, maybe she wasn’t ready to put Elena in total danger. But all in the same, they were both traumatized, terrified, when they almost lost her.

It was like any other day. The three Angels were lounging about, both the smaller Angels comfortably nestled under Jane’s arms around their shoulders, she and Elena sleeping while Sabina, also cuddled up, just watched some quiet tv. Then Bosley came in with a few little notes in hand.

“Alright Angels, up and at’em.” She called, softly but with order.

Jane, being ex MI6, was able to rest and wake with little to no grogginess, full attention, ready to take in the orders about to be given. Sabina turned off the tv, not groggy, at attention but still giving off relaxed vibes. She would pick up the information too, focusing. Elena, on the other hand… she sleepily opened her eyes, rubbing them as she slowly sat up and looked at Bosley like it was a sunny 6 am. The other Angels chuckled and helped sit her upright. Bosley chuckled and rolled her eyes. An Angel, but still a novice. Once the three were at attention finally, Bosley began giving orders.

Jane would be security, the muscle, taking out the bodyguards around the perimeter, Sabina would work her way in, find and detain our criminal target, and Elena would take out lights, power, inter security, firewalls, etc, as she did every mission.

“Can I be out in the field this time?” She asked quietly, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

“No.” Jane said immediately. She refused to put her small girlfriend in harm’s way, ever.

Sabina on the other hand, was silent for a moment, considering it. “You can type and walk, can’t you babe?”

“O-of course I can.” She stammered, locking eye-contact before looking back at Bosley who was watching the whole thing.

“I dunno Boz, I think we should give her a shot.” Sabina voted, giving a shrug.

“Absolutely not.” Jane cut in, frowning seriously. “I don’t care. She’s not going in. She could get hurt. Get seriously damaged. Kidnapped, bruised, shot even. What if something happens?”

“Relax Jane, she’ll be fine! We’re all on coms, I’ll keep an eye on her, she’ll be with me while you run around and bash in people’s necks.”

For a moment Elena was wide-eyed and very concerned, but once again Jane shook her head with a chuckle. “It’s not that dramatic, I put them to sleep and safely set them down.” But in the end it was all up to Bosley, even though they weren’t connected to the missions at all. She was pondering, watching them watching her…

“Well kitten, if you really want to give it a shot. This isn’t an easy quest though. It’s up to you. Do you want to try being in the field?”

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They were sitting in the driveway of a huge mansion, with cars, vans already all over the place. There were guards everywhere, lights flashing, obviously a big rich party happening inside. They were going over mission details. Jane keeps eyes around outside, then moves their way in, taking out every guard she can, then finds and assists the others. Sabina will weave her way through the party crowd, seduce the client, get them alone, then prepare them to be picked up by police. Elena would also be weaving the crowd, remotely taking out the cyber security, cause distractions with lights, mess with people’s phones, whatever, while also getting experience of being surrounded by dangerous people. Just walking around was all Jane would allow. She was nervous and stressed and protective of Elena, but trusted Sabina wholey and so would let her take charge of the mission this time.

“You all ready?” Jane asked, after parking their getaway car.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Elena breathed, shaking herself out, causing the two others in the front to turn around with worried eyes.

“If you’re not comfortable, we can leave you here to keep you safe.” Sabina spoke first, then looked to Jane if she would add anything but she stayed quiet, watching their smaller partner.

“No.. no. I.. I want to do this. I’m just a little nervous. First time jitters you know?” A line that would definitely be important for later.

“If you’re sure.” Jane murmured finally, then leaned over to place a caring kiss upon Elena’s forehead, then near Sabina’s ear. The jock returned the affection to Jane’s cheek, then Elena’s forehead again. Elena was blushing with a giggle, grinning ear-to-ear. Then, they got out to begin.

It was after dark, 9 pm. The sky was black, no stars. The only lights were from the mansion. Jane wore a sleek black suit, easy to move in, easy to hide in, with only a bra underneath the jacket. Sabina had her favorite shiny silver dress, and Elena was given a tailored version of Jane’s gorgeous emerald dress, but it was given a black cover jacket to look less noticeable. They stood out but they also hid, just as they should.

Game on.

Jane thought it was important to always kiss, hug, embrace before a mission. So they the Angels got a little bit of confidence, a bit of pep in their step, to truly harness their energy and they’d come back beaming with stories of their side of the fight. So she held Elena’s shoulders gently in her hands, almost in slow-motion, her eyes fluttered closed, lips parted slightly as she leaned in to kiss Elena on the lips, for love and good luck.

“WAIT!” She cried, throwing hands to Jane’s chest and refusing the motion be continued.

“What’s wrong? Do I have bad breath?” Jane asked, eyes wide in surprise and a little worry.

“I know this isn’t the right time but I’ve never had my first kiss…” She admitted, and pulled away from Jane, looking beyond embarrassed and a little ashamed. The two other angels stared in shock, before smirking/smiling and sighing. Elena was so pure and sweet.

“Well, we will not jinx it then. After the mission, we will both give you your first kiss, so it’s truly magical in a safe, secure and comfortable location." Jane assured her, before Sabina butted in, literally.

“Yeah, it’ll be hot and sexy and lots of tongue, you’re gonna have the kisses of your life.”

Elena laughed nervously, while Sabina gave a cheeky snicker and Jane just shook her head, chuckling.

“Well, let us give you this for good luck instead.”

Almost like they’d practiced or planned it, at the same time they leaned in and kissed both of Elena’s cheeks, with a little on the edge of her lips, just enough. Then to emphasize what Elena was in for, Jane and Sabina shared a kiss of their own, on the lips, arms wrapped around each other, not too seductive, perfectly full of love, courage, confidence. The light of the mansion somehow illuminating them, like something out of a perfect fantasy. Elena could only watch in awe as they pulled away, they must have used tongue because the very almost unnoticeable strand of saliva that parted from their lips, which Sabina cheekily swatted away at. Wow…

“Alright ladies. Good luck.” Jane murmured with a nod, before the tall brunette disappeared into the shadows to begin taking out the guards. Sabina took Elena’s hand and led her to the stairs to the two main guards, flashed her smile, gave their fake names on the list, and entered the building. Sabina gently patted the smaller brunette’s shoulder for good luck, and went off to survey. Once they were all out of sight of each other, coms went on.

Sabina: “Check.” Jane: “Here.” Elena: “Me too!”

The other Angels laughed softly at her quiet enthusiasm.

Sabina was already flirting at the bar, while looking over the crowd for their target.

Elena was on her phone, taking out the security with ease, shutting down the actual security room exactly when planned, when Jane took out the guards guarding and around that area. Whew. Her cheeks flared when in her ear Jane softly told her she’d done a good job.

Everything was going great and smoothly, until Sabina’s eyes widened from across the room at the target tapping Elena on the shoulder, causing the hacker’s blood to go cold as she turned around to see the man of the hour smiling menacingly at her.

“Well hello there.” The target cooed, gently taking her free hand and kissing her knuckles, in which Sabine bristled with soft fury. There was nothing she could do. She couldn’t interfere. She couldn’t go over there. She could just stand there, watching, while her stomach tightened with anxiety. Just relax. Nothing was happening. They were just talking. Relax.

“Hm. Hello there.” Elena murmured, clearing her throat and trying to keep calm while smiling at the man.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before. I am Carlile, but you can call me Mike. And yourself?”

Gulp. “I’m Willow. A pleasure. This place is yours?”

“Why of course. How kind of you to notice. Would you like to see more of it?”

“I-um.. sure!”

“Damnit! Jane! Mike has Elena!” Sabina hissed into her com, clenching fists while downing a shot at the bar. The alcohol burned her throat but not as much as the anxiety burning in her chest at her precious girlfriend being ushered out of the room by a terrifyingly creepy man.

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“Right this way. You seem like a bookish type. Let me show you my prized collection.” Putting a hand on Elena’s back, gently pushing her through the crowd, followed by two big men, out of the main area, and into the first room on the right down a hall with double doors. Sabina sneakily followed, and then her heart sank in horror… when the doors closed, and men stood guard. For a split second, Elena looked back and locked eyes with Sabina before she disappeared.

Would that be the last time Sabina saw Elena? Gods, pray for her safety. Sabina wasn’t religious, but…

“Jane. How many left do you have? We need you, now.” Sabina growled, clenching her fists again and fighting tears that dared to spill.

“I’m almost done I think. What’s going on?”

“He has her. He.. Mike got Elena.”

Silence. Agonizing, painful silence.

“We will get her back.”

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In the room, Elena was following Jane’s previous breathing practices, deep, slow breathing. Stay calm, stay cal-

“So, do you like this room? All my precious book collections, mappings, encyclopedias, dictionaries… you seem like the kind of person who would like instructionals, maybe fantasy fiction?”

Elena agreed sheepishly, although admiring the book collection in this smooth study, there was a window, which she looked at a few times while pacing, looking at the doors, and she almost jumped when the hand touched her shoulder again.

“So what organization do you represent? Are you a gambler? A weapons dealer? A model looking for some risk, perhaps?” He purred, sliding a hand down her back, just resting before her bum. “You can tell me who you are. I’ll keep your secret.”

Elena was trying so hard to keep herself calm, but man was she afraid. She opened her mouth to speak before closing it again, choosing her words very carefully.

“I’m glad you noticed. I’m more of a collector of weapons than a dealer, really. I heard some things from some neighbors that deals go on in this house frequently, so I wanted to come and see.” Oh man. She was trying so hard.

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While Jane was sneaking her way around, taking out the outer layer of guards then making her way inside, Sabina was desperately trying to come up with a new plan on the spot. Come on, come on. Think, think! Okay. Got a plan. “Jane, let me know when you’re done with the outer round. I’m gonna try to get in there.”

“Just finished the runaround, coming in now. Be careful.”

“I know.”

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“You know, I noticed your friend in the shiny silver dress coming over to talk to me, but I’d much rather talk to you. You’re more sophisticated, less… flirty. I like that. A woman who doesn’t need to bat eyes to get a man’s attention.”

Oh god oh god oh god.

Gently sitting Elena down in a chair, then began to rub her shoulders.

“That’s right. A weapons collector, hmm? And which is your favorite piece to admire?” He purred again, and Elena stared in silent fear as he expertly tied her arms down with scarves to the arms of the chair.

“Um… the… glock?”

Fuck.

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Masterfully taking out the two guards outside the door, Sabina held two clear glasses and a big bottle of wine as she practically threw open the door with a big fake smile but slightly worried eyes. “Sorry if I’m interrupting something. Someone told me I could find Mr. Carlile in here and I wanted to share a drink with him.” Staring at Elena for a moment, taking in the situation but then keeping her charade. She would be either shaking with fear or writhing with rage at her beloved Elena terrified, captured in such a way. “Isn’t this a party? Come on? It’s stuffy in here.”

“Please excuse us, we were having a private moment.” Mike growled but kept a respectable smile.

“But Mr Carlile, don’t you want to have a little fun?” Sabina asked with a grin, clinking the glasses together.\

The man smiled and walked around behind her, closing and locking the door, before going to stand back behind Elena, and calmly sticking a piece of duct tape over her mouth, making Sabina’s eyes widen, Elena’s too. The poor small woman was trying so hard to not shake or show fear, but her eyes… No Elena, this wasn’t the end for you. Sabina would be sure of that.

“You both can drop the acts now. I don’t know who you are, or who you work for, but I know when there are snakes in my pit of owls. Tell me what I want to know and I’ll make this painless.”

Putting the wine and glasses on a table by the door, Sabina yelled softly as she whipped her hidden thigh knife at the shoulder of the enemy with perfectly trained accuracy and speed, and smirked as her thick and heavy blade embedded itself in his flesh, causing a loud and pained grunt as he staggered backwards. Eyes wide with surprise, pain, rage, he pulled it out regardless of the growl he let out, before dashing over to Elena, holding the grossly stained knife against her throat.

“Try to hurt me again and I’ll end your friend here.” He snarled, using his other hand to grip Elena’s hair, causing a quiet whimper from the captive. Very silent tears dripped from Elena’s eyes, she was truly afraid, and her attempt to keep from shaking with as saddening as well.

Sabina clenched her fists and grit her teeth. This asshole was going to get his own teeth knocked in in a minute. Just had to plan it out. Be calm. Stay there. “Information, now. Or she gets it.” He threatened, then Sabina just yelled and charged at him. Thankfully it took him beyond surprise, his arm and hand lifted away from Elena’s neck in slow-motion, and Sabina took him down, pounding her fists against his face in pure rage.

Sabina had been on plenty of missions. Through extensive training period after training period until everything was beyond perfect. Her skills, her stealth, her control, her emotion. But not today. Not now. Rarely did Sabina ever lose control, ever go into a fury. She had so much control but seeing Elena crying in terror at being even slightly harmed by a criminal, a bad man, a thug whatever…

It caused poor Sabina to go berserk. She let out a loud cry of fury as she reeled herself in with one last knockout punch to his head, and if he were struggling, everything went limp. And just in time to as Jane crashed through the locked double-doors to the library/study, eyes quickly taking in the scene with horror. It took no time at all to put pieces together. Sabina standing with bruised/bloody fists over their captive, Elena in the chair tied and gagged, the looks they both shared at Jane with their wounded eyes.

The next few minutes went by as quickly as they could. Obviously the party-goers had heard the yell. Jane quickly prepared their target as a gift for police, ending the party, telling everyone to get out and go home. As she did that, Sabina untied Elena, not giving her a choice as the smaller woman was scooped into the jock’s arms, and Jane followed the two outside to the getaway car. Jane would comfort them later. She slid in, turned the keys, took off once seatbelts were on. Sabina sat in the backseat, using a heated blanket they stored in the back to cuddle Elena, who had her eyes screwed shut against Sabina’s neck, arms folded against her own chest and legs slightly bent towards the door of the van. Sabina held her close but gently, keeping her there. It was all too quiet. Poor Elena was so scared… Sabina was so upset… Jane… she was so… ashamed? Sorry. She was sorry she wasn’t there.

When the team got back to the Townsend Agency HQ, Bosley got up from the couch, throwing her arms open for celebration.

“Welcome back Angels! I hope everything went well as it always does-” opening her eyes and dropping her arms, she looked at the three standing in the entryway.

Sabina still holding the closed-eyes Elena cuddled and curled in the blanket, Jane having a supportive hand on Sabina’s left shoulder, Bosley stared for a moment before giving an order that definitely didn’t need to be said.

“Go. Go lie down, all of you. Jane can brief me in the morning. Go.”

Without a word, they all moved to Jane’s big room down the hall. Jane, with her superior strength, lifted both Sabina and Elena into her arms, scooping them onto the bed and both of them cuddled against her. No words needed to be said. All three Angels stayed there, against each other, just breathing softly, reveling in the feeling that it was over. Very carefully Jane adjusted them so they were still against her but lying down under the comforter the bed provided, the heating blanket thrown to the floor as the other two Angels were all the heat they needed. They stayed there until sleep took them, not daring to move away.

Well, they were never doing that again. Elena would probably take a couple days off if anything came up right after that mess.

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The sun rose, eyes slowly fluttered open. As expected, the poor smallest girlfriend was mute for a while, unable to speak. It was a huge sigh of relief when Sabina tickled under Elena’s chin and got her mouth to open and a little giggle to come out, and hearing the nose made Jane smile too. That’s the way to get better. Soft fluffy love. Easiest, fastest way to recover. They didn’t want to move, all 3 were so warm and comfortable amongst each other.

Thank goodness the whole team of 5 had some weird telepathic connection or something because not long after they woke, Bosley and Saint brought in a few trays of delicious-smelling breakfast treats, warm food, cold fruit, many glasses of milk, water, juice. Practically the whole kitchen on shiny silver trays, platters… thank goodness for Sabina’s reach otherwise nobody would be able to get anything. Trays were set left right and center, and very strategically did Sabina’s one arm and Jane’s two wiggling hands manage to get around and grab things.

They slowly ate, drank, consumed with one another, feeding their beautiful sleepy baby her food while enjoying stuff themselves. Times like these, again with no words, were perfect. The amazing flavors bouncing in their mouths, the warmth resonating between their bodies in the dresses still from the other night… After eating they would all have to shower.

Again, with light and feathery touches did Jane and ‘Bina tickle and touch Elena’s wonderful face, her little smiles and giggles were more than anything they ever could have asked for. And when the trays of food began to look like trash, Jane gave Sabina a nod, who slowly tossed back the sheets, and finally, words began. “Alright sweethearts, we really should get out of these clothes. ‘Bina, you go start the shower, I’ll prepare our princess here.”

(Please note, I will have the plot that yes they’ve at least seen each other naked before.)

Sabina and Jane have no shame and have had their fun together, touched each other, seen each other naked, but Elena was a whole other story. They’ve rarely seen her naked, they’ve never touched her yet, she was a whole new piece on the board and they wouldn’t dare even breath in her direction in such a way without all of the consensus. So Sabina slinked away to Jane’s private bathroom, starting and steaming up the shower, leaving her dress on the floor just before the door. Jane stayed in bed with Elena for a moment, but she knew it was time to talk to her directly, just for this.

“Elena? ....... are you with me?”

A slow, hesitant nod came by with a tiny sigh from Jane. Elena tried to cuddle up closer to Jane, burying her face in the taller woman’s neck.

“Are you alright?”

A quicker-responded nod, eyes closed against Jane’s skin.

“You’re really alright?” She asked again with full concern, asking if she was okay from… last night.

It was a long pause, before Elena’s reply was her finally sitting upright, stretching her arms, and with the softest, sad-laced voice… “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Thank the gods.

“I’m really glad.” Jane replied, leaning over to place multiple kisses along Elena’s cheek, ear, jaw, peppering her. Taking her hand and making the cute little Angel giggle at feather-light contact, until they shared a truly-loving stare, to ensure that everything was really alright.

“Aww, you got her going without me?” Sabina teased, standing in the bathroom doorway completely in the nude.

Elena blinked with wide eyes and a deep blush, squeaking cutely and hiding her face against Jane.

The taller woman laughed and rubbed Elena’s back, cuddling her once again. “Elena darling, there’s something we actually want to ask you.”

Slowly leaning up again and trying not to stare directly at Sabina’s beautifully barren form, she looked at Jane’s serious but soft eyes curiously. “We absolutely don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want to do,”

“And our safe words are colors, Red, Green,” Sabina added.

“We were both thinking…”

“As we haven’t seen you naked yet,”

“Sabina!” Jane hissed, shooting a threatening glare over at the snickering naked jock.

“What she means to say is, we would love to treat you to a shower. We know you’re still a little shaken up from the mission events from the previous evening, and we want to make you feel better. Clean you up, get those eyes shining brightly again, along with your skin from that dusty party. What do you say?”

Elena stopped, was silent still, processing. She.. she was being offered a shower with her two loving girlfriends, who wouldn’t do anything the wrong way unless she spoke a color of consent. So it would just be a scrub. Well, okay. And if anything else happened in there, who could control that, huh.

With a soft and shy voice, she nodded. “Okay. Uh, green. I.. I’d like to shower with you both.”

“Yesss.” Sabina hissed delightfully, rubbing her hands together. “We’re gonna get subbed up.”

“You mean sudsed up.” Jane corrected, rolling her eyes with a smirk. Then she rose, dropping her dress as she stepped away from Elena, losing the clothing with elegance, leaving them crumpled on the floor.

“We’ll start without you, don’t want to make you uncomfortable forcing you in the room with us. Join us in the shower when you’re ready, alright?” Then just like that, Jane and Sabina were gone, silent, out of ear and eyesight.

Elena was alone. Not in a bad way! Just alone on the bed, in her clothes, with her thoughts.

With a shaky breath, she slowly rose up, sheepishly taking the straps off her dress, wiggling out of it and leaving it on the bed. Then she dropped her bra and underwear on the floor near Jane’s, and using a towel as a cover for her shyness, she opened the bathroom door, into the steam, into the next chapter of her life.

Through fogged glass, she could see Jane and Sabina embracing each other under the showerhead. Wow… even their silhouettes were beautiful. She almost didn’t want to interrupt them. But thankfully the door swung open, Sabina peeking out with the big goofy grin, one foot out and half falling out of the hot box if her other arm wasn’t supporting her using one of the metal beam arm-guards for support. Because they had support beams/bars/shelves in there for if anyone ever ended up injured and needed support/something to grip or lean on. Jane stood with her head just slightly peeking out but a little under half of her bare form could be seen over Sabina’s head. They stood there, smiling, watching, waiting calmly, inviting her whole-heartedly to join them.

Seeing the love in their eyes and expressions, Jane’s open arm to guide her in, and Sabina offering her free arm too, Elena removed her towel and neatly hung it up on the railing by the toilet, and grinned shyly when Sabina spoke first.

“Wow girl! You’re gorgeous! Wow! Get in here so we can admire you some more!” Then she disappeared back into the glass shower, leaving Jane there, standing with only the most loving of gazes.

“She’s right you know. You’re absolutely stunning and we would be truly grateful if you still decide to join us in here for a good clean. Someone as magnificent as yourself surely would like to get soaped up and treated as the princess you are.” Wow. Jane always had a way with words. And somehow through the somewhat loud sound of spraying water could she still hear Elena’s ever soft words.

“Okay. I’m coming.”

Elena gently took Jane’s inviting hand, and led her in, closing the door behind her. Jane let her stand there while she went back to the middle of the area, taking more soap from the many body wash bottles, and after rubbing her hands together, she put on a little show that was more soothing than seductive, showing Elena what she was in for if she wished. With soapy, sudsy, bubbly hands, Jane began rubbing Sabina’s shoulders, massaging as best as she could through the slipperiness that was soap and wet skin. Sabina gave a little moan as the hands slid across one arm to the next, scrubbing her armpits and then coming back for her neck.

Jane gave Sabina a teasing little squeeze around her throat that just made the jock laugh, then soapy hands ran down her back, massaging the tense and scarred muscle around the spine, and gave Sabina’s bum cheeks a little squeeze which brough giggles out of both Sabina and Elena, before Jane continued to thoroughly scrub Sabina with her bare hands, and then rinsed her hands off when she was done with her backside.

“Aww Mom, is that all you got for me?” Sabina joked, giving a pout.

“Now now ‘Bina. I still have your legs, chest, feet and vagina to clean.” Jane reminded her, and weirdly enough Elena gave a little shiver at how easily Jane could say… that.

Sabina whined like a little kid but was happy as soon as Jane came back with soapy hands, doing as she said. Washing her thighs and leg… pits? Her knees, down to her ankles, and lifting her foot to clean, scrub and wash those overworked runners. Then Jane stood tall, getting a fresh batch of suds on her hands before turning them both to the side to show Elena Sabina’s chest, about to be cleaned.

With soapy hands, Jane curved the muscles on Sabina’s chest, squeezing them delicately, making sure every inch of those mounds were scrubbed, and teasingly plucking at Sabina’s nipples, pinching, squeezing, twisting with sudsy fingers, making the smaller of the two Angels give an appreciative moan, and once Jane was sure she’d cleaned completely, hands slid down her abs, stomach, slid along her inner thighs, but didn’t dare go near the place Sabina was probably expecting. Once more Jane stood to rinse, and re suds, then gave Sabina what she wanted, while at the same time nothing at all. Both of them knew the curses soap had upon using it as 1, a replacement for lube, and 2, getting frisky while actually trying to clean. Sabina knew the painful burns their soap gave upon last time she begged Jane to touch her while scrubbing her down.

So Jane massaged her lips, gave soap into the curves and crookes of Sabina’s core, any hair she had, making sure it was totally clean. Not just for herself, but for proper health in general. When she was sure Sabina was totally clean, she gave a light spank to the over-excited woman, lightly directing her to rinse off.

“Want me to scrub your head?” Jane asked Sabina, holding their favorite shared substance bottle in her hands.

“Mmm… nah that’s okay. I’ll do your hair after I do mine. Soap yourself up.”

Throughout this whole time, Elena was still shyly by the door, watching the whole thing, hands and arms covering her private parts. Wasn’t she cold? Jane sure noticed.

She quickly cleaned and soaped her whole body in record time before offering a hand to the smaller Angel.

“Come here Elena. At least get warmed up. You look freezing. We won’t touch you anywhere you don’t consent, okay?”

Elena finally let her hands drop, but she took Jane’s hand, coming into the hot stream and sighing happily as she embraced the heat and got herself and her skin soaked. Sabina respectfully kept her distance as she scrubbed her own hair, and politely said “Excuse me” to Elena, to rinse her hair out.

Once Sabina was 101% shiny and clean, she pulled out the big smooth stool for Jane to sit on like a little kid while Sabina soaped up and scrubbed Jane’s head and gorgeous locks. One of the best things about the showers were the soapy head massages. And Jane rarely made any sound, but with this, she was a songbird. A pleasure for her partners' ears alone, something they would have to memorize.

With Sabina’s hands first working on the long locks that hung down, Elena watched while Jane stared at the wall across from her, before looking over and smiling happily. Once Sabina was sure the long locks were done and clean, she began to work on the scalp. Soaping it up, scrubbing gently, fingers working against her head, Jane’s eyes fluttered closed, her lips parted ever so slightly, she straightened her back against Sabina, tilted her head, and moaned. Softly, but both women could hear it clearly, and Sabina smiled earnestly, hearing such a wonderful sound again.

She worked her hands deep but also gently against Jane’s head, along the sides, scrubbing the back of her cranium, being very thorough while also giving Jane the stress-free massage she deserved.

Elena, as gentle and curious as she was, oddly felt obligated to join in somehow. So she went to stand directly in front of Jane, knelt down on her knees, and pulled Jane into a hug. Sabina aww’d from above as they shared a hug while Sabina still scrubbed. The hug only lasted a moment but it was enough. Something so light, so easy, yet so intimate and meaningful.

Sabina took one of the large cups they used as a shower tool, cupping over Jane’s forehead to protect her face from the soapy water she rinsed out. Rinse, rinse. Very carefully and calmly rinsing out Jane’s hair completely. Then she was done.

“All done Jane-y baby.” Sabina chimed, and the taller woman stood up to exchange the hug with Sabina, who took it and returned it very happily. They nuzzled each other, then pulled away for Sabina to hug Elena too.

“Didn’t forget you, princess.” She cooed, and hugged Elena tight, kissing her ear and cheek before pulling away. Both original Angels were soaped and clean. Now for the third.

“Alright ‘Bina, how should we do this?” Jane asked, admiring Elena’s uncovered form from the soaps by the showerhead.

“Mmm I dunno Jane, shall we both take her on?”

Both? Both.

They both looked at Elena for her reaction, decision.

“Hey Elena?” Sabina asked. “Can we get your consent to both wash you? Or whatever you wanna do.”

Deep breaths Elena. This was just a shower. With your two beautiful experienced loving girlfriends who were literal angels. No big deal.

“You can both shower me.” She decided, before quickly adding “Oh, green.” Which made the two angels grin ever so appreciatively. They really liked the color thing. It was important, important to them, so it meant a lot just for her to say that. Elena went to sit on the stool, but Sabina quickly swiped it, and Jane caught Elena’s tumbling form with ease.

“Nah-ah-ah princess, we’d like you to stand please. Sorry about that.” Sabina said, and once her hands were lathered up, so were Jane’s. Elena was a little shaken but nothing she couldn’t easily shake off with a smile.

She stood up straight with her arms out, and both Angels gave her kisses on her ears, neck, then cheeks before lathering her shoulders, raising an eyebrow to each other when Elena gave a happy hum at the little massages. They then slid along her arms and pit, then her sides, Jane tickling Elena a little and everyone giggling when Elena did.

They scrubbed and massaged her back, then turned around to her hips and stomach, Sabina tickling her this time and once again a little giggle fit ensued. They skipped and went down to wash her legs and feet, using themselves to support her off-balance, then stood before her, serious faces.

“Elena, may we have your consent to wash your privates?” Jane asked seriously, and Sabina almost crossed her arms to insinuate how important consent was to them.

Elena blinked. Wow. It was so touching how, well you know, how seriously they took consent.

“Green. You may um.. both.. clean the rest.”

Without further ado, they moved. Jane on the left, Sabina on the right. Nothing sexual, they promised. Washing her bum cheeks, then her breasts, and they looked at each other, then Elena.

“Green.”

And they went. Hands sliding along her inner thighs, Elena had literally never been touched before. Total virgin. They knew that. When they started their official polyamorous relationship, they went over everything very seriously. They slid along her lips, making sure not to try to turn her on, the sole purpose was to clean.

Any hair she may have was scrubbed and cleaned, the skin between her bum and her privates, and when she was super clean, they rinsed her off under the shower and with the cup, sliding and running their hands along her silky-smooth skin like they’d never touched anything else ever before. And when that was done with, it was time for Jane’s legendary scalp massage for Elena. Sabina snickered, standing back to watch Elena’s facial expressions when it happened. Elena was given the plastic stool to sit on, and Jane began. Soaping up her hands one last time with shampoo and conditioner, she began working on Elena’s long locks, brushing her fingers through them, getting every single strand of this young Angel’s gorgeous mane. Once she was done with that, the best part came.

“Just relax and enjoy, alright?” Jane whispered, trying to sound caring, despite what Sabina’s face may have led Elena to believe. Jane began scrubbing Elena’s scalp and immediately the small Angel’s eyes fluttered closed halfway, her shoulders slouched slightly, and she huffed out a very pleased sigh. Sabina rolled her eyes, while Jane instructed Elena politely to sit back up. Once she had, back straightened, Jane continued, looking at Sabina’s face for Elena’s reactions. A perfect triangle.

Elena leaned back against Jane’s waist and thighs, in cute utter bliss as the hands massaging her scalp, cleaning and scrubbing her hair. This should not have felt as good as it did. This was illegal. Maybe there was something in the shampoo. Or the conditioner. Or- nope. It was definitely Jane’s soft, slow, long fingers. Wow. If there was such a thing as tension in the scalp, surely it would be gone now.

Then came the cover over her eyes, and the water rinsing out. Again, slender fingers brushed through her hair, relaxing her. If it weren't for Angel training, she most likely would have fallen asleep. Jane's massage was absolutely wonderful. Wow.

And then, it was over.

The three Angels turned off and stepped out of the glass shower box, grabbed the big white fluffy towels and began to dry each other off. Jane was more careful and gentle, and was determined to completely pamper Elena till she was absolutely sure the young Angel was okay and back to her happy darling self. So Jane was drying Elena’s body efficiently. Thank goodness the towels were so soft, so Jane’s progress could be a little rougher. Sabina knew what Jane was up to, and would join in when she felt like it, but with a somewhat serious frown, she dried herself off.

Jane knew that Sabina had technically gone through something that night too, but she was stronger than Elena. Jane would help her too, later.

When Elena was all cozy and dry, her hair and her body, Jane gave her an equally fluffy housecoat to relax in. Then moved to Sabina, helping the slightly grumpy Angel. Sabina wouldn’t admit it, but when Jane was drying her off, Sabina loved to be touched, comforted and cuddled too. She was almost too eager to return the hug that Jane gave her.

More time passed and they all got dry. Together they exited the bedroom, fully intended to get dressed, maybe do something fun, go out, maybe take Elena to a fair?

As Sabina and Jane moved to the bed and began to take off their housecoats for clothes, Elena stood in the doorway, silent, watching, waiting.

“Wait.” Elena called, causing the others to freeze, turn, stare at Elena who was beckoning for their attention. Thank goodness she was talking again.

“Can I kiss you both?”

#Charlie's Angels #Charlie's Angels 2019 #fanfic #my fanfic #mine #jane x sabina x elena #ot3 #Jane kano #sabina wilson #elena houghlin #ao3 link

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lassieposting · 5 years ago

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How about the Lucifer OT3 for the domestic ship meme? 😁

domestic ship meme!

send me a ship and i’ll tell you:

who reaches out to new neighbors

a lot of the time, it’s lucifer. he’s a) incredibly sociable, b) nosy and c) faster than the other two, and demons are incredibly territorial, so if there’s someone new in the neighbourhood he wants to investigate immediately. he’s very friendly, but he flirts with the neighbours, or tries to make deals with them, or turns up with Fun MuffinsTM, so he’s a bit of a menace. chloe is pretty savvy and if she’s around she can usually grab him before he makes a break for the door, otherwise she and dan end up making the Lucifer Apology Tour.

who remembers to buy healthy food

chloe and dan are both pretty responsible about this; they’re parents and have to feed trixie. dan is more inclined to be a health nut, because he’s very into staying in shape and eating healthy is a big part of his lifestyle. they both like to (get trixie to) try new foods, but neither of them have a lot of free time, so even their healthy meals tend to be chosen for being quick and easy to prepare. lucifer doesn’t shop for himself - he has a fancy grocery delivery service for that - but he also eats out a lot at various expensive restaurants whose owners owe him favours, so he doesn’t need to “shop” often. when chloe and dan stay over it’s always a toss-up whether his fridge will be fully stocked or empty except for wine, whip cream and strawberries.

who remembers to buy junk food

lucifer, ably assisted by trixie. he’s a decent stepdevil, but he thinks showering your kid with money is good parenting. he snacks a lot as it is, bc supernatural metabolism + celestial young adult = constantly hungry, and trixie knows that if she says she’s hungry or suggests something new for him to try, he’ll take her to the store for a snack raid. he’s got a big sweet tooth and never says no to desserts and unhealthy junk.

who fixes the oven when it breaks

dan. chloe can do basic DIY - put up a shelf, change a fuse - but fixing the oven is a bit beyond her. lucifer is useless; he doesn’t repair things at all, he throws them out and buys a new one. he does very much enjoy watching dan when he’s sweaty and a bit dirty and wearing a tool belt, though, so he hangs around and leers and makes unhelpful suggestive comments while dan is working.

who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s)

lucifer is banned from looking after anything that can’t speak for itself for the foreseeable ever. he’s allowed to watch trixie occasionally, because trixie can and will remind him to feed her/take her to school/etc, but he’s too selfish to watch something that isn’t at least semi-independent. if they had a pet dan would look after it for the most part, and chloe is the only one who has any plants - she keeps a couple succulents, including the one on her desk at the precinct that lucifer doused with scotch that one time.

who wakes up earlier

dan usually wakes up earliest; he goes to the gym to work out before heading to the precinct for 9. during the week, chloe wakes up next, because years of being a parent and doing the school run has made early mornings a habit, but at the weekends she’s happy to sleep in. lucifer is very much a night owl, and does not do early mornings. he doesn’t have to be at the precinct as early as the other two, since he’s a civilian consultant and not a detective, so he has a bit more leeway to stay in bed and doze. he does try very hard to get them to stay and cuddle with him though. sleepy lucifer is a snuggler.

who makes the bed

lucifer is the only one who really cares about bed tidiness. dan doesn’t bother making it at all. chloe will straighten the comforter if she’s not in too much of a rush, but lucifer fluffs pillows and does hospital corners on the sheets and is just generally fastidious and overly tidy.

who makes the coffee

lucifer. when he first started working with chloe, he realised he could offer to do a coffee run as an excuse to get out of doing paperwork. his memory’s on the scary side of eidetic, so he remembers all the hot beverage preferences for their entire department, and he’s loaded, so he always goes to the fancy, ridiculously overpriced coffee shop no one else can afford and usually comes back with donuts. eventually it just becomes a habit.

who burns breakfast

chloe is a decent cook as long as the dish is simple and doesn’t take long to make, but she’ll put something on to boil and then get distracted by whatever case she’s working on and completely forget about whatever’s on the stove until it boils over or the fire alarm goes off and she has to go rescue it. dan is a pretty good cook, but he doesn’t hold a candle to lucifer, so normally luci will make the dinner and chloe and dan will alternate washing up and putting things away. drying the dishes is trixie’s job.

how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house

dan shouts bye from the door once he’s got his jacket and shoes on; chloe usually shouts bye back and lucifer’s normal response is “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” chloe gives cheek kisses before she leaves the house, and reminds whoever’s looking after trixie to do whatever they need to do for her that day (lucifer because he needs reminding, and dan out of habit even though he’s a perfectly capable caregiver). lucifer usually wants a hug before he goes out, mostly because having people who are willing to give him that kind of affection is still a big novelty and he’s living for it.

how do they greet each other when one of them gets home

dan and chloe have lived together before, for years, so usually they just come in, toss their keys on the side and call out “hey”. living with other people is still new to lucifer, though, so he gets very excited when someone comes home; it’s an opportunity to get kisses and cuddles. when it’s him coming home, usually he just bursts in already talking about something that happened to him while he was gone, sometimes mid-sentence.

who brings home little gifts like flowers/chocolates more often

lucifer is the classically romantic one. he’s always picking up takeout from dan’s favourite vietnamese place or bringing chloe lemon bars or surprising them with a candlelit dinner on the penthouse balcony. neither of them really expected him to be the romantic type, but it makes a lot more sense once they realise that most of his knowledge about human courting practices comes from movies and TV.

who picks the movie for movie night

if trixie is with them, she usually picks; otherwise, they take turns. this was implemented because chloe kept getting outnumbered - the boys both like action films like body bags and the weaponizer with plenty of nudity, explosions and unrealistic fight scenes. chloe’s not really a fan.

their favorite kind of movie to watch

chloe likes comedies and dan likes action films. lucifer’s favourites are also action films, but he usually picks a horror for movie night. not because he has a particular fondness for scary movies, but because chloe will end up pressed into his side and he loves that of all the strange, comfort-seeking behaviours humans have, she cuddles up with the devil. he’s used to people being terrified of him. being seen as a protector is new and thrilling.

who first suggests a pillow fort

technically it’s trixie, and she’s horrified that lucifer’s parents never taught him to make one. he hates missing out on shit so he brings it up on date night cause he wants to see what the big deal is.

who builds the pillow fort

dan is in charge of actually building the pillow fort, and chloe is in charge of furnishing it with plenty of blankets and cushions and soft cuddly things. lucifer lounges on the couch and “directs”, which is what he claims he did when the demons were building his palace in hell. once the chloe and dan have finished building the damn thing, they then fuck him in it, which is very pleasant if not the original intended purpose.

who tries to distract the other during the movie

10000% lucifer. he lasts all of five minutes before he’s trying to undress someone. it’s always risky taking him to the movies because he’ll inevitably want to make out/give head/get head in the back row. chloe is surprisingly easily corrupted and makes a game out of how long she can edge him for; if he makes it to the end of the movie, he gets a reward.

who falls asleep first

unexpectedly, it’s lucifer. he’s just spent six months (for dan and chloe)/thousands of years (by his count) in hell, with nobody to watch his back. he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep for a very, very long time; he’s been constantly watching his back, heading off rebellions and assassination attempts and game of thrones-level political bullshittery. with chloe and dan, he’s safe. he can get his head down and sleep knowing that at least one of the three of them will wake up if there’s danger. also between them they fuck him till he’s ready to pass out so yeah, he crashes first

who is big spoon/little spoon

dan is very much a big spoon, which suits the other two just fine. lucifer will be the big spoon for chloe, because he knows she likes cuddling into him, but he’s a little spoon at heart. he loves being held. he likes tucking his head under dan’s jaw and dozing off to dan’s fingertips stroking his back. chloe will also switch, because she loves how soft and affectionate lucifer is when she’s cuddling him, but she prefers being the little spoon.

#lucifer on fox #lucifer on netflix #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker #dan espinoza #casimania #i got douchifer in my deckerstar #i have SO MANY EMOTIONS about the ot3 #lucifer is incredibly soft #one human loving him was great; now he has two!#hes so lucky!#thank u for the ask fren #lucifer headcanons

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