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demonvibez · 1 year ago

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Bloodlust

Characters: Barbatos x F! Reader Word Count: 5k+ Rating: Mature [MDNI] Tags: vampire barb, accidental injury (small cut), blood drinking, biting, fangs, tail play, fingering, penetration, reader has female body parts, lil fluff ending A/N: Had a ton of fun writing this! It was supposed to be out for Barb's birthday but...eh, life in the Devildom, amirite? Anyways, who doesn't like a belated birthday gift? Happy Belated Birthday, Barbatos! ♡

There you sit on a balcony of the Demon Lord's Castle, a cup of Hellfire Rose Tea cradled between your hands, as Lord Diavolo sits across from you. He had invited you over for tea in order to thank you for your help in curing the brothers' vampiritis, as well as just catch up with each other through conversation. The two of you sip your tea and exchange stories and laughs as you await the return of Barbatos with a tray of his famous sweets. As you look out upon the Devildom's skyline, the twin moons shining down on you both, you can't help but to smile as you feel a soft breeze lightly caressing your face. The doors leading into Lord Diavolo's room are wide open, the breeze flowing through the room and back out again, the various scents of teas and baked goods intermingling with one another - much to your pleasure, for you had enough of the scent of garlic for the next millennia. As you listen intently to the Prince's anecdote, you hear the door gently click open.

Barbatos is on the way back from the Castle's kitchen with a tray of his freshly baked sweets. Of course, the demon had made his famous Signature Cake that was all the rage of anyone that visits the Castle, but he also made sure to make a special batch of Spider's Web Cream Puffs just for you, as he knows how much you favor them. He'll never forget the way your eyes lit up like the Devildom sky when you first took a bite into one, a simple memory he is sure to cherish forever. It didn't take him long to grow fond of that smile of yours, and he's eager to draw it out of you whenever you're around - however stoic he may present himself. Much like himself, you're always doing things for everyone else - even if it's to your own detriment, even if it's not safe for you. Even this past week, you put your own life on the line in order to cure the Devildom of vampiritis, using every ounce of your available power in order to thwart a huge catastrophe - something they're unsure how to even repay you for.

As Barbatos continues to make his way up the steps and towards the Young Master's room, he couldn't help but to feel as though something may be slightly...off with him. As he pauses at the top of the stairway, he uses the back of his glove to wipe off his forehead, furrowing his eyebrows as he stares down at his hand. Sweat? Why in the Devildom would he possibly be sweating? More strenuous tasks never seem to phase the Butler, so why would carrying a tray of desserts be able to break his refined exterior? He brushes it off, attributing it to the steam of the pastries - despite knowing deep within himself that he had, in fact, cooled the desserts completely as he was supposed to. As he glided through the hallways and towards his Young Master's door, he couldn't help but to feel a slight tingle and burning sensation at the back of his throat. He was sure that whatever was going on had nothing to do with vampiritis - the strain only infected fallen angels, after all. He figures it must be another Devildom cold, and pushes the thought to the back of his mind, refusing to deign something so preposterous as himself being sick.

He pushes the door open with a gloved hand, a soft zephyr of the Devildom's cool night air brushing past him, and a faintly sweet scent tickling his nostrils that he finds unfamiliar. The further he continues into the room, the stronger the scent becomes, calling out to him with an intensity that rivals the thirst of a man dying in a desert. His throat dries up even more with a thirst so unbearable, it almost makes him want to claw out his own throat. Trying his best to swallow down the feeling, he marches onward with the tray of sweets, determined to see out his duties and deal with his affliction afterward. As he finally makes his way to the balcony door, another gust of wind brushes past you, and it is at that moment in which Barbatos realizes exactly what ails him.

You look up from your tea to lock eyes with Barbatos, a sweet smile displayed across your lips. He has seen you many times under the light of the Devildom moons, but tonight there is something different about you. It's not just the way the crimson moonlight paints your features, or the way your soul shines like a rare Celestial gemstone - no, you definitely look different to him. Your skin looks softer than usual, so tempting to touch and to taste. The way the wind blows your hair back, exposing your neck to him as it pulsates with the one thing he's craving more than anything in all three realms. Your blood...oh how he thirsts for your blood. He can practically see the way it dances around in your veins, calling out to him like a siren's song meant to lure him into the abyss.

As he stands there with the tray in hands, intently staring you down with a ravenous look in his eyes, your eyebrows furrow - you knew something was wrong with Barbatos just from his demeanor alone, and looking over at Diavolo, you can tell he senses it too.

"Barbatos, is everything alright?" the Young Prince asks the butler as he stands from his chair, his tone both equally serious and concerned. He doesn't miss the look in the butler's eyes, as if he were ready to consume you whole. Barbatos quickly shakes his head, essentially snapping himself out of the trance, and sets the tray down on the table.

"My apologies, My Lord. It appears that I have contracted a minor cold," he explains, trying his best to minimize the situation. Diavolo narrows his eyes at Barbatos, knowing the demon isn't being entirely truthful with him, but he crosses his arms and waits for his butler to finish his explanation. "No need to worry, once I finish my duties here, I will retire to my quarters and begin treating myself immediately," the butler continued, avoiding eye contact with either of you. Somewhat satisfied with his answer, Diavolo returns to his seat, his expression softening slightly.

"Aww, well, I hope you feel better soon Barbatos! Thank you so much for preparing all of this for us," you say, still smiling and oblivious to the subtleties of the demons around you. You pick up one of the cream puffs, placing it on your plate, before eyeing one of the Midnight Scones. Your smile grows even wider as you pick one up with one hand, grabbing your knife with the other, stabbing into the scone so that you may spread some delicious blood strawberry jam onto it. Accidently stabbing through the scone and into your finger, you instantly drop everything onto the table as you wince in pain, a droplet of blood accumulating on your skin.

The scent of your bare blood in the Devildom air sets off a war within Barbatos' mind, causing him to freeze in place and stare at you with a certain darkness in his eyes. His bloodlust for you is currently at ineffable heights, only made slightly evident to him by the sudden growth in his fangs and the way his heart races, mind spinning with the all consuming need to just have a little taste of you.

Diavolo is immediately on high alert, standing back up from his seat once again when he sees that look return to Barbatos' eyes. He can practically see the ancient demon salivating over you and your blood, confirming his original suspicions that his butler may have contracted vampiritis. He knew Barbatos, his ever loyal and stoic butler, would do his best to push through and carry out his duties as he normally would when he is ill - but Diavolo draws the line when it comes to endangering his students, especially you. He steps out from where he was sitting, moving to stand between yourself and Barbatos. The look in the Future King's golden eyes was one you hadn't seen before - sure, you had seen Diavolo be serious before, but nothing quite like this.

"Barbatos, you are hereby relieved of your duties. Return to your quarters at once and await my next orders," he says, his voice stern and authoritative. Barbatos continues to stand there frozen, staring at you and the droplets of blood that he wants so badly to taste. He doesn't acknowledge the Prince's orders - it's as if he didn't even hear him. Instead, he takes a step towards you, causing Diavolo to transform into his demon form and put a hand on Barbatos' chest.

"Barbatos. Return to your room now," Diavolo declares, with a certain bass in his voice that could shake all three realms. He will physically remove the Butler if need be, anything to protect everything that he holds dear to him - including Barbatos himself. An incident like this could ruin the peace he's been working so hard towards - and of course, he would never want anything to happen to you. Not only are you his sweet little exchange student, but you're the Chosen One - the human that stands to help unite all three realms. If harm were to come to you, he doesn't even want to think of the massive consequences that will follow. Additionally, he cannot stand the thought of anything happening to Barbatos either. Barbatos has always been Diavolo's one true family member, having been by his side since the Little Prince had tricked him all those centuries ago. No, he can't let anything happen to either of you - he needs to take control of the situation, and he needs to do it immediately. Diavolo flairs out his wings, essentially hiding you from view behind the enormity of his crimson and gold wingspan. He begins to walk forward, pushing Barbatos backwards towards the door, a low growl emitting from his throat as he bares his own demonic fangs at the butler.

Barbatos snaps out of the trance once again as he stumbles backwards, his emerald green eyes widening in horror at the realization of what has just transpired. Sure, he hadn't actually attacked you, but he couldn't deny to himself that all he could think about was how ravenous he was for your blood. His resolve is faltering, and he can't help but be overcome with shame at that fact.

"I...I..." Barbatos continues to walk backwards, his mind still racing as he fumbles over his words, unable to make eye contact with his Master. He turns and makes a break for the door. "My deepest apologies," he mutters as he exits, slamming the door shut. Diavolo stands there for a few more moments, his arms crossed, waiting to be sure the bloodthirsty butler doesn't return while you're here. When he is sure Barbatos won't return, he drops his arms and lets out a sigh, turning about face to return to you on the balcony. When he returns, he sees you still sat in your seat, holding a cloth napkin over your finger with a bewildered look on your face.

"Sorry about that," he says in his normal cheerful tone, a fake smile plastered across his face. You can still see the concern in his eyes though. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut our evening together a little short." Before you could even protest, Diavolo has picked his DDD up off of the table, making a call to Lucifer to come and escort you back to the House of Lamentation for safekeeping.

Lucifer had been prompt in arriving at the Castle to pick you up, having been filled in on the details of the incident during his phone call with Lord Diavolo. You were brought home with haste and a curfew was set in place for the entire House. You honestly had no idea what the fuss was all about - you weren't in danger being around all seven of the brothers when they were infected, why would Barbatos be any different? He's the most refined demon you've ever met, you'd have been just fine around him, you were sure of it. Ready to call it a day, you make your way to your room and get ready for bed.

The hour is late, and you are safely tucked away beneath your sheets as you peacefully slumber the rest of the night away. A loud clatter awakes you from your sleep, jolting you from your dreams. You recognize that the noise is coming from the kitchen, pushing yourself up out of bed to go monitor (who you assume is) Beelzebub in his midnight snack binge - it was a nightly routine for you, so making your way to the kitchen at this hour is almost a reflex at this point. Poking your head into the doorframe, the sight you see before you is a surprising one - it's not Beelzebub that you find, but instead it's Barbatos making all of the commotion, having ransacked the entirety of the kitchen. There he stands across the room, staring at you intently once again, for he could smell your sweet scent the second you crossed the threshold of your own bedroom door. When he says your name, you can tell there is a slight tremble to his voice.

"What are you doing here," he asks, a certain darkness to his tone. You finish making your way into the room, standing across the kitchen island with your arms crossed and your eyebrows furrowed.

"Uhh, you're in my house. I should be the one asking you that - what are you doing here," you respond, tilting your head to the side. You can tell there is a slight agitation that Barbatos is trying to hide as he lets out an annoyed huff and nervously fidgets with his hands, which you've never seen him do before. He stands there unresponsive, yet again, causing you to call out his name once more.

"My apologies...I...came to see if you had any of the last ingredients I need to make the remedy for my ailment. We are all out of garlic at the Castle and I-"

"Really? You came here for garlic?" You move out from behind your side of the counter, and walk around to make your way towards Barbatos, causing him to step backwards a few paces. "Seems unlikely you'd come here of all places for that. You know we used it all to make the last batch of serum. If you really 'just needed garlic' then it seems to me you would have popped over to the 24 hour DevilMart up the street from here," you say as you continue forward, effectively backing him against the wall. You hadn't feared these demons before, and you weren't about to start tonight. You stop a few feet in front of him, a hand on your hip and a sadistic smile on your face. "So why don't you go ahead and be honest with the both of us and admit the real reason you're here." Before Barbatos could fathom a reply, you take the last step forward, reaching out to push his hair back out of his face and tuck it behind his ear. You caress his cheek with your hand before running your fingers over his lips, your eyes shining with an unmistakable lust. "Then again, I think we both know why you're really here tonight."

Both his mind and his pulse are in a frenzy as you literally have him in the palm of your hand. You both know you are playing with fire but you don't care - you know what you want, and you're going to take it. The look in Barbatos' eyes is one of uncertainty. Between the bulge in his pants and the way his mouth is salivating, he knows for a fact that he returns that feeling of lust for you. He would love nothing more than to taste you, in more ways than one, but he's not sure if he possesses the restraint needed to take you to bed with him tonight. What if he loses himself in your essence? What if he gets a taste and finds himself unable to stop? His throat burns with an uncontrollable thirst that he is dying to quench, and the longer you linger, the intensity exacerbates.

"This is dangerous," he barely whispers as he leans into your touch. He should be telling you no - he should be opening up a portal and going back to the Castle where he belongs. But he can't find it within himself to resist you. Besides, this is what you want, isn't it? No, this is a huge risk that neither of you should be taking. You let out a soft chuckle and shake your head.

"Have you met me? Don't worry, I trust you. It'll be fine." Your hand drops from his face to grab his hand, gently pulling him towards the door. He lets out a few halfhearted protests, causing you to shush him as you guide him towards your bedroom. You push the door open and pull him inside, locking the door behind you both and leaving the lights dim. You bring him over to your bed and turn to him, grabbing his lapels with your hands. "Let's get you comfortable," you say with a smirk as you begin to unbutton his jacket.

"Are you sure about this?" You throw his jacket over onto the floor, at which he didn't even react. He just continued to stare at you, the uncertainty in his emerald eyes replaced with pure lust. Instead of replying, you press your lips to his, which was more than enough of a final answer for him. With the remaining distance between the two of you closed, he grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer to him, before pulling you down onto the bed with him. You straddle his lap, deepening the kiss by playfully nibbling on his bottom lip, your tongues colliding in a passionate dance. He breaks away from your lips to begin trailing kisses down to your neck, letting out a moan as his lips finally caress the one spot he's been obsessing over all night. "You're all I've been able to think about," he mumbles against your skin, before pressing a few more kisses against your pulse.

He extends his vampiric fangs, gently grazing them up your neck, before leaning back down and sinking them right above where your neck meets your shoulder. As you let out a gasp at the sharp pain, he retracts his fangs and begins to lap at your blood, letting out a moan as he tastes just how delectable you truly are. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the sensation, your hands sliding into his scalp and caressing his horns - you hadn't noticed him slip into his demon form the second he tasted your blood. No, both of you are having such an intimate experience, you can only seem to focus on your senses and the way you're making each other feel. As he feels your sweet crimson nectar dripping down his throat, he feels revitalized in a way he hasn't felt in several millennia. All of his senses are heightened, his power growing as he consumes your essence.

You feel a rush, a certain lightheadedness as you feel him gently sucking on the flesh of your neck. You grind on his lap as you lean into him, his hardness stimulating you and eliciting tiny moans whispered into his ear. He presses one last kiss onto his bite mark before pulling away to meet your lips with his once more, the taste of your own blood meeting your tongue. As he passionately kisses you, he begins to peel off his gloves. After tossing them on the floor, he begins to make quick work of your clothes with his hands as his tails work on undoing his own.

After tossing the clothes aside, Barbatos lays you down on your bed, continuing to kiss you as his hands slide down your body. His hands stop momentarily to feel your breasts, before one of them makes its way further downward. He slips a finger in between your lips and finds your clit - you both let out a tiny moan as he feels how wet you already are for him. He begins to slowly massage you as he kisses down your jawline, briefly pausing to press a kiss onto his bite mark, and then continuing down to your breasts. You can't help but to arch into his touch, the sensations of his nimble fingers sending you closer to the edge with each stroke, the feel of him teasing your nipples driving you wild. The sounds of your moans and whispered swears reverberate off the walls as he drives you closer to the edge of your first orgasm. The effects of having your blood drawn, paired with the pleasure Barbatos is giving you, makes you feel a high you've never felt before. He breaks away from your breasts, his other hand moving down to slide two fingers slowly inside of you as he continues to rub you. His pace quickens, and he can feel the precum beading on the head of his cock as he watches you fall apart on his fingers. Your first orgasm feels amazing - but you both need more. It's almost there's an instinct within both of you that you need to become apart of each other. He pulls his fingers out of you, putting them in his mouth to taste you. He lightly moans as he savors the taste. He wants nothing more than to fill all of his senses with only you.

He moves back on his knees, lining himself up with you and pushing the head of his cock into your tight little hole. You let out a high pitched squeal as he enters you, feeling more and more full as he slowly slides himself into you further. Once he finally pushes himself all the way, completely buried within you, he lets out a strangled moan and begins to thrust in and out of you. You feel so good wrapped around his throbbing cock, he never wants to pull out of you. The way you squeeze him, so tight and so snug, it almost feels as though you never want him to pull out either. Perhaps if he made you his familiar, he'd be able to make love to you like this constantly - but one thing is for certain tonight; you belong to him.

He reaches down to grab your breasts, teasing your nipples as he continues at a steady pace. The sounds falling from your lips are like music to his ears, a symphony he'd love to forever hear on repeat. Your brain is flooded with pleasure, each thrust sending electricity through your body. Just when you swear to yourself that you'd never felt this good before, you feel his tails slide between your lips and start massaging your clit as he passionately fucks you. Your eyes roll back once again, your hands clutching tightly at the sheets as he pounds you to your second orgasm, your body being set ablaze as pure ecstasy washes over you.

He briefly pulls out of you, but only for a moment. He lays down beside you and props himself up on one arm, turning you so you're on your side in the same position. He pulls your top leg up, firmly grasping your thigh, before repositioning his cock and sliding it back into you. Throwing your head back as you feel him bottom out once again, you both begin to grind against each other, the sounds of your skin slapping together punctuating the melody of moans filling the room. He spots his bite mark dripping near the base of your neck, and leans down for another taste, his pace quickening the moment your blood touches his tongue once again. You make the refined butler want to go absolutely feral, a side of himself that even he was unaware. He wants you to feel just as good as you make him feel - the way you rapture his senses and take him over completely. His tails return to your clit, rapidly rubbing the sensitive spot in circles, as he continues his unrelenting pace. Your mind is racing as it makes its way back up the crescendo to your next orgasm, your vision blurred by tears of pleasure as you chant his name in praise. A few more thrusts, and Barbatos sends you over the edge once again, your brain flooded with pure euphoria. He feels you clench around him, your pussy squeezing him beautifully tight, his own orgasm erupting mere seconds after yours. His pace slows down, but he continues to pump his cock in and out of you slowly, both of you riding the high of your climaxes all the way back down to the bottom.

As you both lay there and try to catch your breaths, Barbatos wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his chest, your heartbeats pulsing at an increased rate. His other hand moves to push the hair out of your face, having to do so with several strokes as it is drenched with sweat and clinging to your face. He looks down at you, eyes filled with love and admiration, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. He murmurs your name, unable to stop the smile that reaches his eyes.

"You truly are a remarkable human," he says as you look up at him, leaning in to press his lips to yours. You deepen the kiss, your hand moving up to cup his cheek as your tongue enter his mouth. His free hand slides down your body, lightly grabbing at your hip, causing you to wince a little. His eyes suddenly snap open at the sound, and he immediately pulls away, his brows furrowing and eyes wide with concern. "Are you okay? Have I hurt you," he asks as he checks you over for injury. Other than the bruising bite mark at the base of your neck, he spots several other bruises on your hips and thighs. "I apologize for any of the unintentional markings I may have left on you. I was unaware that your blood would give me such vitality," he says as he stands up off the bed, starting to make his way towards your bathroom. "I assure you I will bring you back to full health, and it will no-" the butler's lamentation is cut off by the sound of your giggles.

"Barbatos, listen to me when I say that I assure you that I enjoyed myself, and am just fine," you say, pushing yourself so that you're sitting up in bed. "Well, other than, you know." You gesture towards your neck with another giggle. "Which I also really enjoyed, by the way. But there's no need to worry, just grab me the healing potion from the bathroom, if you could? It's the red vial on the right side of my sink." You stretch your legs as you wait for Barbatos to return with the potion, your muscles feeling weak and sore in all of the best ways. A moment or two later, and he re-enters the room, handing you the vial and sitting next to you on the bed. You chug down the potion, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and setting the empty glass vial on your nightstand as Barbatos gets situated in bed behind you, pulling you back into his embrace.

You let out a happy sigh as you lay your head to rest on his chest, your eyes fluttering closed at the sound of his heartbeat below. Tonight was a night that neither of you would ever be able to forget, a memory that Barbatos will be fond of for centuries to come - his heart begins to fill with sorrow at the thought of the night ending. Almost as if you could read his mind, you begin to whisper to him a similar sentiment.

"Wish tonight didn't have to end...wish it could last forever," you murmur as the hand resting on his chest absentmindedly traces shapes on his skin. His heart swells as he hears your words, his own hand cupping your cheek and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"The night may not last an eternity, but our time together does not have to end. My feelings for you are so deeply profound, I simply cannot imagine myself without you. You are a part of me now, as well as I am a part of you." He closes what little distance is left between the two of you, the kiss shared between you both filled such passion, that neither of you could deny the love you share for one another.

"I love you so much, Barbatos," you whisper, after pulling away to gaze into his gorgeous lush green eyes. Even after everything you just experienced together, you can't help the blush that lightly spreads across your cheeks. You didn't really know how Barbatos felt about you, until now.

"I love you too, my darling human. And I always will," he pledges to you, giving you one more chaste kiss before settling back down. You let out a tiny yawn, nuzzling the crook of his neck affectionately before drifting off to sleep. As his own eyelids grow heavier, he thinks over the events of the day fondly. What at first he thought was an unfortunate fate in turn brought the two of you closer together - something he will always feel lucky and thankful for. One quick little turn of fate, and now the two of you are inseparably entwined, the blood ritual and love-making the two of you shared having stricken an unbreakable bond. The refined butler usually isn't fond of losing his resolve - unless he's with you. You always bring out new aspects of himself he's never seen before - even when he's infected with an mutated strain of vampiritis. You bring excitement when his life is mundane, and he's eager to see how the two of you spend the rest of time together - with or without his newly acquired bloodlust.

· demonvibez ♡ 2023 · do not copy, repost or modify · · likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

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alj4890 · 6 years ago

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Testing for Love ~ Fluffy Friday

A Choices: The Royal Romance Fan Fiction

Taken from my The Other Friend series.

Fluffy Friday Masterlist

Testing for Love

"Wait a minute, Maxwell!"

Liam jogged over to his friend. "She's found another one."

"No! Why? Why would she do that? Haven't we suffered enough?"

"Apparently not. Thankfully, I passed. Rashad and Drake did too. You, uh...well...good luck." Liam clapped him on the shoulder and returned to his wife.

All four couples were snowed in at Applewood Manor. To help fight the boredom, Amanda had found many online compatibility tests. Riley and Hana had been thrilled, while Olivia enjoyed hearing Drake's running commentary. Liam and Rashad had breezed through, proving they were their wives perfect match.

Maxwell on the other hand struggled. He hated taking tests with a passion. Did his wife doubt they were meant to be or would last or kiss or whatever the current test promised to reveal? They were already married and (before these tests came into view) happily so. A test created by a Dr. Iam Love could not truly measure his feelings properly.

With shoulders slumped, he opened the door to his bedroom. If one were to see what was in that room, they would not understand his fear. The dark haired lady, he considered the love of his life without some torturous multiple choice monstrosity telling him otherwise, was reclining on the bed pillows with her laptop balanced on her lap.

Her demeanor was warm when she looked at him. Such deceit. She was a siren with her inviting smile and affectionate greeting, causing him to enter in. He knew it was only a matter of mere moments before he was dashed upon the rocks of doubt by waves of ridiculous test questions.

"I was wondering where you were." Amanda reached her hand out and grabbed his. With a few tugs, she managed to get him next to her. "I found another test. Ready to give it a try?"

"But we have already proved we are compatible. We're married! What are you planning to do if it shows we shouldn't be together?" Maxwell buried his face into the pillow, thinking that freezing in the snow might be preferable to this.

"It's just for fun! Plus everyone else did it and they all passed. If you fail, I will restrain myself from leaving you for the first man that passes." Amanda teased. "You got this. Now, first question." She clicked on the screen. "Here we go. What would your significant other consider as the perfect date?"

She paused while he groaned in the pillow. She read out the answers and fought her laughter as he went through the possibilities. "You hate outdoors, so no walk or picnic. You love movies, but you also love spontaneous weekend vacations. I HATE THESE THINGS!" He pushed off the bed and paced as he thought of an answer.

After a couple of minutes, Amanda asked if he had an answer. He ran his hands over his face and said the movie date. He watched her face for any indication of it being the right answer. She pursed her lips and clicked on movies. "Okay. Next quest--"

"Wait! No. Go back and pick vacation!"

"I can't go back. Next question." "Which would your love consider to be the most romantic gesture?" He flopped backwards on the bed as he listened and debated on each answer.

"Well? What do you think?" She asked.

"I'll tell you what I think. I think whoever made these tests is bound and determined to break up perfectly happy couples! These questions prove nothing of my feelings for you!" He glared at the ceiling, thinking of the injustice of having to participate in these asinine quizzes. Why were there so many of these unholy things on the internet?

"It's too late." He muttered.

"Huh? What's too late?" Amanda glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "It's not even seven o'clock yet."

"Not the time." He ground out. "It is too late for you to even suspect that we might be incompatible! We're married! We've been married for seven years and have two children! If this does not in any way convince you that I am your perfect match, then I don't know what to tell you."

He grabbed her laptop and tossed it onto a padded chair. Before she could question his actions he hopped back on the bed and pulled her into his arms. He rolled on top of her and stared into her eyes. "I'm going to prove to you why I am your perfect match."

She started laughing. "Maxwell, I already know that. These were just to have a laugh--"

"Number one: Your favorite color is blue. You hate the color pink and only put the girls in their pink outfits when there is a chance they could be ruined. You love the color red, especially in flower form. Tulips are your favorite to receive except in the winter when you only want poinsettias."

Amanda closed her mouth as he held up his hand.

"Number two: You love Mystery Science Theater 3000 above all other shows. Your favorite seasons have either Joel or Mike, with the first Crow and second Tom. You can't decide who your favorite host is, though Mike reminded you of me. So, you developed a crush on him when we were younger."

She gasped. "How did you know--"

"Perfect match!" He growled.

"Number three: You make fun of romantic dramas and have a hard time not laughing when one of the love interest dies. Though many might think it is heartless, I know you have gone off alone to cry at the thought of my death. You only laugh at the overly dramatic sceranios, but your heart breaks at real life."

Her eyes teared up. "How did you--"

"Perfect match! I am your perfect match. I can't pick those answers they give because they don't match you. I know you. You are the love of my life. I am yours. And for my sake, please! Don't make me take another test! EVER!"

Amanda wrapped her arms around him. "I promise. No more compatibility tests. I never doubted our love, though hearing all that may have made me love you even more." She said as she pressed her lips to his. "I thought they would make us laugh at the absurdity. But if it makes you reveal stuff like this..." She tried to reach for the computer.

"NO!" He held her down and tickled her until she promised to stop. He kissed her and settled next to her with a contented sigh.

Later that night, they joined everyone downstairs after dinner. Amanda had her phone out, scrolling through some quizzes that had popped up. "Oh! We have to try this?"

Maxwell froze. "You promised." He whispered.

She smiled at him. "Don't worry, it isn't a love test."

He relaxed again next to her, letting his hand play with her hair.

"It's a 'How Great of a Parent Are You?' quiz."

Tagging those who wanted extra fluff 😉@brightpinkpeppercorn @riseandshinelittleblossom-deact @zaffrenotes @fullbeaumonty @speedyoperarascalparty @bobasheebaby @tmarie82 @littleblossom-18 @cocomaxley @ehkw1989 @hopefulmoonobject @leelee10898 @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @littlecrookedheart @mrswalkerwrites @debramcg1106 @krsnlove @littleblossom357 @ritachacha @lodberg

#choices trr #the royal romance #trr maxwell #trr #choices #fluffy friday #fluff

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oohfluffy · 6 years ago

Text

LMN Ch.21 | OSH

Group: EXO

Member: Oh Sehun

Theme: Angst | Fluff | Writer!AU | Neighbor!AU

Word Count: 2,061

✎ Chapter 21: Promise ✎

"Why are you still up so late?"

You opened your window and asked him. Sehun leaned his chin on his palm and shamelessly gazed at you, making you a little bit flustered. Just a few seconds ago, you realized that you feel the same for this young man but you know this won't work.

"I just can't stop thinking of you, noona."

You slightly gulped at his sweet words, thinking that shouldn't you be used to his tactics now.

Why is it making me blush all of a sudden?

You almost face-palmed yourself literally for asking that to yourself when the answer is clear and you know it.

"Uhm. That's not good. You should sleep now, it's 12:36—"

"Why are you still up then, noona?" Sehun asked as he stared into your eyes, unconsciously melting you on the spot. You chewed your lower lip in perturbation, thinking of an excuse.

I can just say that I was working—

"Your laptop's off, meaning you weren't working late this time." Sehun's eyes were on your laptop that's just beside you, completely closed and unused.

Your shoulders slumped in defeat as Sehun read what was in your mind.

Is he a mindreader?!

"Were you thinking about me too much that you couldn't sleep, noona?"

"I-I wasn't!" You almost shrieked, making Sehun grin as if he caught you. "I-I was just thinking of random things, yeah."

"Like what?"

"You don't need to know that, little boy. Let's talk about you then. Why weren't you visiting Chanyeol these days?"

"Were you worried, noona?" Sehun bit his lower lip as he stared expectantly at you. You can feel yourself melting already.

"I-I wasn't! Maybe you were just studying or playing around that's why you didn't get to visit." You almost cursed at yourself for sounding so much like a girlfriend that has been left by her lover for a week.

"I wasn't playing around, noona. I study all the time while thinking of you, that's it." And here he is, the boyfriend who patiently explains why.

You shook your head with your unbelievable thoughts.

Why were you even thinking of him as a boyfriend?!

"Okay, I'll go to sleep now." You were about to close the window, thinking that you won't even blink an eye later now that you saw him and with the words he said.

"Noona, wait."

Your eyes widen as Sehun leaned both of his arms on his window's frame and got closer to yours. You quickly opened your window that was half-closed and pushed his shoulders back on his room.

"Yah! That was dangerous! If you got off balance, you would have—"

"I love you."

Your lips parted as he spoke in a low voice, his eyes boring his eyes into yours. You can see how his brown orbs glimmer under the moonlight, how his lips part as he stared at yours, how his long eyelashes flap as it slightly touches the under of his eyes.

The sky was dark, everything was, except the lamps that illuminated your room and his. Even though the light wasn't that bright, you can see his handsome face as it comes closer to yours.

"Did you hear that, noona?" Sehun grabbed your hands on his shoulders and brought them up to his cheeks, nuzzling on them.

"Sehun loves you."

You felt your eyes water as you heard his pleading voice. You just want to say it back but your mind was preventing you to.

You're just gonna make this young gentleman cry when the time comes.

You just smiled at him and gently caressed his cheeks, gaining a beautiful smile from the young man.

"I know and I'm grateful for you, Sehun-ah." You said before slowly pulling your hands away from his hold. Sehun slightly frowned as your warmth escaped his grasp. "But you can't let your feelings go deeper than this. I can't—"

"It's already at the deepest pit of everything, noona. I can't dig them back up." Sehun curled his lips into a smile but a hint of sadness shadows it. Being an observant person, you saw through it and knew he was crestfallen.

It broke your already broken heart.

"I'm sorry, Sehun. You just made a mistake that you'll probably regret later." You mumbled as you slowly closed your window and brought down your blinds but Sehun stayed still and stared at you behind those. You stood in front of the window and saw that he didn't move nor did he get back in. Your heart clenched agonizingly as you walked away from the window and back to your bed.

"If you knew about my condition, you'll just get hurt more than this." You whispered, closing your eyes as you laid on the bed.

Sehun blinked away his tears as he closed his window. He leaned his forehead on it, his breath fogging up the glass as his hands rest on the frame.

"Loving you is not a mistake that I'll regret for the rest of my life, noona." Sehun whispered as he smiled, tears finally set free from his eyes.

"It's the only right thing that I've ever made that I won't ever lament that I did until the day I die."

✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗

"Noona, I've talked to Sehun already and he's fine. Uhm— It's just because his parents came back and he got pressured in school." Chanyeol explained, his feet tapping, making me raise an eyebrow at him. "Ah, you know things that students make fuss about."

"Okay then, I'm glad."

Chanyeol grinned in triumph as he got out of your room and closed the door, thinking that he successfully made a good excuse.

Not knowing you already talked to his best friend last night.

"Unnie." A knock stopped you from working and Chanhee peeked on your door.

"Yes, Chanhee?"

"Dasom unnie is here."

The said woman came in with a smile and opened her arms for you to hug. You grinned as you stood up and got inside of her comforting hug.

"I missed you, Dasom."

"I missed you too. Sorry I didn't visit you on the holidays. Mom got badly sick, so we just celebrated our Christmas and New Year in the hospital. I got too busy with work too." Dasom sighed as she nuzzled her head on your neck. You rubbed her back as she relaxed in your arms.

"You did well. Take a break first then." You smiled as you tugged her to your bed.

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you? You work endlessly, sweetie." Dasom whined as she laid on your bed as if she was home. You laughed at her before replying.

"I'm sending my reviewed book tomorrow, so I'll be resting and doing whatever I want after."

That made Dasom sit up straight in surprise.

"YOU'RE FINALLY FREE?!"

"The next day, I will."

"WE CAN FINALLY HAVE GIRLS TIME?!"

"The next day, we can."

"OH MY GHAD! THIS IS THE BEST NEWS I'VE EVER HEARD!"

Dasom engulfed you in her bear hug, making you giggle as you missed her warmth.

"It's not like I haven't rested in the middle of working. I rest whenever I have free time."

"You don't have free time, Yeoreum. Stop fooling me. You’ve been like this since we’re in college.”

"Yeah, you caught me."

Dasom pulled away and held your hand excitedly.

"What should we do the next day then? Should we go to the salon? The cinema? Or shopping? Should we tag our siblings with us?!"

"That won't be girls time then. If you're forgetting, Chanyeol's not a girl."

Dasom looked shocked but laughed.

"Oh right, I forgot."

The both of you chatted as if you've never seen each other for years. She told you about the Spring festival that will be happening in two weeks, planning to buy hanboks and other accessories. She invited you to come and you tried rejecting when Chanyeol's voice echoed your mind.

"Noona, let yourself live for a while."

"I'll go!" You squealed as Dasom tickled your waist. She grinned triumphantly and moved away from you before turning her head on your window, where the sunlight shines on your desk.

"How's your hottie neighbor?"

You almost choked on your saliva when you heard the word 'neighbor', maybe the 'hottie' word too.

"W-What are you talking about?" You slightly wetted your lips as Dasom stared at you.

"I mean, how is he as a neighbor? Is he being a jerk to you or hitting on you? What?"

"He's not a jerk nor he's..." You glanced at your window, remembering how he stared at you last night as he said those three words. "...hitting on me."

"He's a good boy then?"

"He is." You nodded as you smiled unconsciously, making Dasom smirk.

"You like him."

"Yeah, I do— What?!"

"Caught you." Dasom giggled as she poked on your cheek, causing you to blush like you're on fire.

You thought of denying it but what would that do to you? Nothing. You're just gonna lie to yourself.

"Alright, you caught me." You surrendered as you bit her finger that was poking you. She shrieked as she pulled away, making you laugh.

"You!" Dasom huffed as she crossed her arms before smiling again. "Tell me everything then."

"Uhm. Where do I start?" You mumbled to yourself as you felt uncomfortable telling your newly found feelings.

"I'll just ask then. When did you know that you like him?"

"I didn't know. It's just last night that I realized that I like him." You shrugged as your cheeks flamed up again.

"So, you must have started liking him unconsciously that you didn't notice it?"

"Yeah, like that."

"Have you felt your heart running faster for him? Or feeling nervous when he's around?"

You didn't need to think twice about it.

"Yes, I did. A lot of times actually. I just thought it was because of my sickness." You mumbled as you played with the blanket under you.

"Did you tell him about it?"

"No."

"Why?"

"You know why I can't tell him, Dasom." You turned to her and her eyes dimmed as she realized why. "He'll just get hurt at the end. We can never work."

"You're leaving something out."

"What?"

"What do you think he feels for you?"

You stopped moving your hands and stayed still as Dasom watched your eyes well up. She grabbed your hands and made you look back at her.

"Does he like you back, Yeoreum-ah?”

Your tears streamed down your face as you stared at her in sadness. You nodded as you tried gulping down the cry that's trying to come out from your throat.

"S-Sehun loves me, Dasom..." You sobbed as Dasom pulled you closer to her, rubbing your back as you spoke. "He fucking loves me."

Chanyeol backed away from your door as he heard your words as you sobbed. His hand fell on his side and he stared at your door.

"It hurts to know that I'll hurt him in the future."

Chanyeol's tears flowed down on his cheeks as he heard you crying and your sad tone.

"Noona likes him too?" He whispered.

He went back to his room and texted his best friend.

1:56 pm

To: My Best Friend Sehun

What the fuck is your plan now? Noona's crying!

After minute, Sehun replied.

1:57 pm

From: My Best Friend Sehun

She is?! Oh my god. Should I go there?!

Chanyeol almost threw his phone at his best friend's reply.

1:59 pm

To: My Best Friend Sehun

Just fucking tell me you planned something for her! You told her your feelings, take responsibility of it!

On the other side, Sehun leaned his back on the headboard and smiled as he replied to his best friend.

2:00 pm

To: Yeol the Giant

I'll make her happy. That's my plan.

Sehun put down his phone and stood up to walk to his table. He flipped the calendar and grabbed his pen on his side. He encircled a date with a smile.

January 20

It's a Saturday, one week from now.

"Our first date will be next week, noona." Sehun mumbled as he touched the number.

"I swear I will make you the happiest person."

Indeed, he will.

That's a promise he made not only to you but to himself also.

—

Fluffy’s note: 4 chapters and an epilogue left. 🤞

—

❥ Ch.22

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reliquiaen · 6 years ago

Note

I wrote a thing and I was wondering if you would read it? It's a bubbline fic. It's called i could live without you (just don't want to) If you left a comment on what you thought I would greatly appreciate it. (Also apparently you can't post links in asks!? Who the heck thought of that?)

would you believe ao3 had the AUDACITY to tell me my comment was too long? outrageous. check below the cut.

It’s a little awkward to have Bonnie’s hand actually hit Marceline’s chest. Stand in front of your door and open it. Picture where the person on the other side is. There’s more space there than could be comfortably crossed by a casual arm swing from knocking. She would’ve struck air.

Set the scene more clearly. Has Bonnie ever been to this house before? It seems like she hasn’t but the reader doesn’t know that. We have no idea the pre-established relationship (whatever that is) between them either, so we don’t know if it’s even reasonable to expect that Bonnie has been here before. The lack of context also raises questions about the stuttering, especially since Marceline uses a nickname quite easily right at the start. Basically what I’m getting at here is that there’s a disconnect between how familiar they’re being with each other; Marceline is being real casual/familiar but Bonnie seems to be treating this like they’re strangers (or the next thing to it). Shoot for a little more consistency.

Following on from this point: the house is lovely? We have to take Bonnie’s word for it. You don’t have to go into any great amount of detail, just give us the top three things that make it lovely (well-lit, classy decorations, homey, photos on the walls, colour scheme, tidy - just a few ideas, fill it in how you think lovely looks!). Also not expecting you to have a floor plan (unless this is a longfic in the making and we’ll be spending a lot of time here, then yeah make a floorplan for your reference and consistency), but in your head you should know where things are and where the characters are going. So where’s this hallway in relation to where we started? Did we go through any rooms? Are there doors? What the heck is this rope??? Explain (from Bonnie’s POV) as she tries to figure out what’s going on before it happens, our brains work quickly, try and throw some of that in there.

Be careful using traits/descriptors in place of names as well. It can be useful when the character is a stranger (referring to them as ‘the tall guy’ or whatever if it’s a defining trait) but we know who these two are, use their names. Or pronouns. I find the best way to use pronouns in place of names is that the last character who’s name was used gets the following pronoun.

Description of the bedroom is pretty good, we have no guidelines to go by though; is this like the rest of the house? How tall is the house? Were the on the bottom floor and the attic is the only other floor? Or did they go up stairs? How on EARTH did a piano get up there? Strange items? Those seem like a focus point; take Bonnie’s personality into account: she’s the sort of curious where she sticks her nose where it shouldn’t be regardless of consequences. Plus ‘strange’ is the sort of word that readers will expect exploration for. Be careful of wording; Bonnie’s not analysing this, just taking it in. If you want her to be analysing, give us some more thought processes. What does she think of these things, is there anything in particular drawing her attention, is she uncomfortable and why, etc.

This is the first mention of them being in school together? There’s a basement? Definitely work on figuring out how all the rooms fit together.

Coming back to my point about setting your scene rn bc Bonnie has a crush? We are just learning this. Also why is Marceline tickling her? That’s VERY comfortable. I feel like we defs need some more details about their relationship as it stands. Especially now that Bonnie is using a nickname.

Careful with transitions. Felt like a whirlwind of situation changes happened right there between Bonnie lying down, Marceline leaving (??? not good host etiquette), Marceline coming back, the tickling??? and then the alcohol announcement. There’s very little to help with those transitions or explain any reasoning behind them.

(This is probably as good a time as any to just ask you to be careful with your speech tags and punctuation. Is Bonnie giggling the ‘stop’ or is she saying that around giggles or is she saying that and THEN giggling? Please don’t overuse smirk. It’s a great word for a sassbox like Marceline but too much smirking and it just becomes the smile of a shit-stirrer.)

Again: transitions. Marceline is pouting now. Describe it. Is this different? Has she got a reputation for being the sort of person who’s pouts folks can’t say no to? If not consider how that factors in. Please also ask where Marceline got the alcohol, why she’s drinking it, how old they are, why Bonnie is making this exception, Marceline’s motives behind sharing it (is it bc she wants to look cool? Does she understand what sorts of things Bonnie thinks are cool?). Also ask what YOUR motive is for the alcohol. Is it just to lower inhibitions and get them to talk more freely than they usually would? If that’s the case, reevaluate your use of it. It should serve a purpose for the characters as well as for you. (Pet peeve: this is an especially tricky situation for other reasons: they’re underage and consent. It’s brought up heaps in other fics, I know, but it’s worth considering anyway.)

Tie your references to blushing into what else is going on at the time. Otherwise they feel disjointed; like things you’re just reciting. Don’t give us facts! Give us emotion!

Check your tenses. By which I mean just make sure you’re not switching between past and present tense accidentally when referring to multiple actions in a single sentence. (Should be ‘plopped’.) “Shook her head yes” - check that, should be nods I think, yes? Yeah just some grammar issues here and there, a few missing words and tense mix ups, punctuation problems, capitalisation. Nothing major (we all do it) just make sure you check for them.

Use of omniscient narrator for the briefest of seconds. I get that you’re trying to convey to the reader that Marceline has a crush too, but Bonnie has thus far been your sole narrator so if she can’t hear something we shouldn’t either. Alternatively, grab a Virginia Woolf novel and welcome to the omniscient narrator club!

New speaker = new paragraph. But same speaker = same paragraph. You’ve split up some of Marceline’s dialogue into two paragraphs which can be confusing. Marceline is playing music she wrote? Why? Is she shy about this? Does she do it often? Again, is it bc she’s trying to impress? Is it bc she’s going on drunk?

Marceline is getting her way a lot. We, the reader, know why. Consider from their perspective though: does Marceline know why? Does she suspect? Does she feel guilty for pressuring Bonnie? How does Bonnie feel about it? Growing frustration? A little bit of that patented Hopeless Gay™?

Why the boredom? If this was a planned get together why did neither of them think about what they were gonna do? Bonnie especially would be the type to have a plan. She probably googled ‘platonically hanging out with your crush’ to see what came up lol.

The innuendo at the end feels a bit rushed, too. But that could just be bc we haven’t seen any of the build up to this. Have they been pining for several years (unlikely if they’re in high school)? Is it the alcohol talking? Is Marceline joking? How can we tell? Is she phrasing it like that just to get a rise out of Bonnie? What does she think NOT getting that rise out of Bonnie?

Anyway that was a lot of rambling I’m very sorry. Overall a good tight storyline, it starts, it builds and it concludes satisfactorily. You just need to practice writing as a thought-process sorta thing, I’m not sure how to explain it better than as a connecting of ideas together. I mean I won’t claim to be great at that sometimes I force a situation to get to where I wanna go (sometimes you have to), but yeah just check in with your characters, plan things out (doesn’t have to be a huge spread out thing, just make a few notes about where things are) and ask questions! To question your story and motives can only make it better! It’s all that background stuff that the reader doesn’t see that makes up this underlying network of ideas, concepts, actions and characterisation that really holds up the plot and keeps shit consistent!

And that is… all the advice I’ve got! Sorry if any of it came out sounding a lil brusque it’s been a loooooong day u.u

#ask

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socialsymphony · 7 years ago

Text

The End of Infinity (With You) So, @thekingslayerrollins had made a post about super dorky and klutzy Shield-era Ambrollins, and my brain went, “Yes! Do it! Write it now!”, so I did, and here we are, ~8.3k words later. (written in 4+1 format, covering five different moments in the Shield era.) @theawkwardfangirlwithavengeance 1. They're sweaty and euphoric, and Seth is pretty sure nothing will top this: Dean’s arms around his waist, titles slung over their shoulders, Roman grinning over at them with a proud, satisfied smile on his face.

“Damn good night, boys,” Roman says, grin widening. Seth can't–won't–argue that. Tag team champs, and Dean the United States champ? Fucking right, it was a good night. “Drinks on Dean?” Seth asks, hand on Dean’s forearm to keep him from pulling away at the joking suggestion. Dean grunts out an affronted, “Fuck you, no,” but he stops trying to pull away from Seth, his arms tightening a little more around Seth’s waist. It makes him sweat even more, Dean’s body so hot against him, but he'd never think of pulling away, not when this is all he's wanted for months: to be wrapped safe and secure in Dean’s arms, warmth of his breath tickling the hairs at the nape of Seth’s neck. Yeah, maybe he wants more, will always want more, but he's okay with this. He's good with this. He'd never do anything to ruin the easy friendship they have now. “Imma shower,” Roman says, laying his title over Seth's other shoulder. “Hang on to that, will ya?” Seth nods, agreeable as anything, riding the high of being a tag team champion, of having his first WWE title victory. “Hurry,” he says, letting his body relax back against Dean, “before this one tries to run away so he won't have to pay for our drinks.”

Dean pinches his side, but it only makes Seth laugh.

The bathroom door closes behind Roman, and the room settles into silence. Seth would be okay standing here for hours, but Dean’s restless energy starts getting the better of him, and he starts fidgeting, tapping his fingers against Seth’s stomach, swaying them lightly in place, and, reluctantly, Seth lets Dean go, pivoting to face him, smiling softly at the way Dean rolls his neck, cracks his knuckles, fingertips moving back and forth across the front plate of the title wrapped securely around his tiny waist. He looks–he looks perfect: sweaty and flushed, dimples deep pockets in his cheeks, blue eyes dancing happily and shining with pride. Seth doesn't give himself time to think twice, leaning in before he's aware he's doing it, eyes falling shut a moment before he's hit with a blinding pain. His eyes shoot open as much as they're able to, tears immediately clouding his vision, and there's a trickle of wet dropping down his face. Dean looks mortified, terrified, a hand over his mouth as he shakes his head, backing up and up until he falls down onto the bed. “Oh, god, Seth, fuck, I'm sorry,” he apologizes, looking for all the world like he's about to fling himself off a building. Seth shakes his head quick before tipping it back, metallic taste thick on his tongue. “S’okay,” he says, waving it off. It's his fault. He shouldn't have tried to do that. It was stupid. He blindly makes his way to the bathroom, grateful that none of them bother with locking the door. The shower curtain rattles to the side, and Roman's asking, “The hell happened?” Seth shrugs, leaning over the sink, drops of blood staining the white porcelain. “Tried to kiss Dean, and he headbutted me.” Roman barks out a laugh. “Man, bet he's kickin’ himself in the ass right now.” Most of the bleeding seems to have stopped, so Seth wets a washcloth and cleans his face, grimacing at the stained material. That'll be going into the trash. He turns his attention back to Roman, says, “Nah. He didn't want to. It's cool.” Roman laughs again, mocking, disbelieving. “Whatever you say, Seth. Can I finish my shower now?” The shower curtain is tugged back into place, and Seth makes a face at Roman that he can't see, a grin splitting his face as he flushes the toilet, dashing out of the bathroom before Roman starts cursing. Dean is still sitting on the bed, staring down at his feet, but he looks up at the sound of Seth closing the bathroom door, an eyebrow raised once the sound of Roman shouting hits him. “What'd you do?” he asks, picking up Roman’s and Seth’s titles from where Seth dropped them on the floor. “He was being a dick, so I flushed the toilet on him,” Seth says easily, shrugging. Dean hums thoughtfully, then pats the empty space on the bed beside him. “C’mere,” he says, reaching a hand out to Seth when Seth doesn't move immediately. Seth takes it, lets himself be guided by Dean, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart. “You okay?” Dean asks, tracing his thumb lightly over the bridge of Seth’s nose. It makes him shiver, his pulse racing. Seth nods. “Yeah, I'm alright. No big deal, Dean.” “Wasn't exactly how I imagined our first kiss going,” Dean says, a rueful smile on his face. Seth is pretty sure his breathing has stopped, or maybe his heart, because Dean? He's thought about it? He's imagined it? Seth thought it was just him, just him feeling these things, that he'd forever be pining over Dean, stuck watching as Dean found some beautiful girl to commit himself to. “I–uh. What?” Seth is at a loss for words. He doesn't even think he knows the English language, at this point. Dean laughs softly. That will never fail to make Seth’s heart flutter in his chest, a caged butterfly trying to break free. “Don't move,” Dean says, one hand on Seth's jaw. His eyes are moving rapidly between Seth's eyes and his mouth, and all Seth can do is nod minutely, swallowing repeatedly and trying to remind himself to breathe. That all goes out the window the moment Dean's lips are on his, and it's everything and nothing he's ever dreamed of. Dean's lips are a little chapped, but they're soft, a little damp like Dean had just licked his lips, and it makes Seth whimper, clawing at Dean's side, trying to get closer, trying to get more. They're interrupted by the sound of Roman coughing, the bathroom door banging shut. “I see y'all finally found your coordination,” Roman teases, and Seth grabs the closest thing he can–a pillow–and throws it in Roman's direction, hiding the way his face is burning in the crook of Dean’s neck. 2. Dean’s hands are cradling Seth’s face, almost as if he’s afraid Seth’s going to break. ”M’fine, Dean, I promise,” Seth says, for what has to be the hundredth time. Roman doesn’t know why he’s even putting up any kind of argument. Dean is going to be Dean, is going to coddle and pamper Seth until he’s sure, absolutely sure, that Seth is okay, that there are no lasting marks or damage from Big Show’s knockout punch. They haven’t known each other all that long, not in anything more than a ‘yeah, I know that dude’ kind of way, but they’ve gotten closer over the last almost year, and Dean has changed so much, has grown so much. The one thing that Roman has learned, above all else, is that Dean doesn’t do anything halfway. He’s all in, or he’s all out, and though he may act tough, as though nothing can hurt or harm him, he’s a big ol’ softy, especially when it comes to Seth. Those two boys look at each other like they’re responsible for hanging the moon and the stars in the sky. When Seth’s hurt, Dean shoulders the blame, and it’s equal parts endearing and frustrating. Dean can’t be everywhere, can’t do everything, can’t save Seth from everything no matter how hard he tries, and boy does he try. Their match tonight with the Rhodes Brothers, for starters. Yeah, it was a no disqualification match, but Dean did everything he could to help. No one foresaw Big Show coming out, knocking them all out with that meaty fist of his, causing them their titles. But Dean blamed himself, said he shouldn’t have charged at him with the chair, should have gotten in the ring to protect Seth instead, instead of getting knocked out, only for Seth and Roman to follow suit. Roman returns his attention back to Seth and Dean, sitting on their hotel bed, Dean’s hands moving from Seth’s jaw to his neck to his shoulders, and Seth’s looking down at him with a fond, exasperated smile on his face. Dean loves Seth wholeheartedly, with every fiber of his being, like it’s all he needs to keep him going, keep him breathing, and it’s plain as day, the way he holds Seth, looks after him, even if he isn’t the greatest at looking after himself. ”Is it cool if we steal the shower?” Seth asks, holding Dean’s hands in his own. Seth may not be as obvious and out there about his feelings for Dean, but it’s there, in the quiet moments they’re together, in the way no one but Seth can calm Dean when everything gets to be too much, in the way Seth will sacrifice sleep or a workout to stay with Dean when he needs him. He’s never seen two people more perfectly made for each other, and he’s so damn lucky he gets to call these two his brothers. ”Yeah, go ahead,” Roman says, nodding at the door. He’s sore and achy, his back stinging and throbbing as much as his jaw and his head. A shower sounds great, but there’s no chance he’s moving anytime soon, not now that he’s comfortable on the bed he gets all to himself. He turns the tv on once Dean and Seth retreat into the bathroom, volume barely loud enough to cover the sounds of the shower running. There’s some ridiculous infomercial playing, people’s faces over-exaggerated, and it never fails to make Roman chuckle. There’s the sound of crashing and falling coming from the bathroom, and Roman is up and pulling the door open without a second thought to his back, his head, eyes wide at he stares down at his brothers laying in the bathtub, the shower curtain draped over them. ”What in the hell are y’all doin’ in here?” Roman asks, rubbing a hand over his face. These idiot fools. Seth’s face flushes. “Dean was trying to wash my hair, and it got a little ticklish.” Dean snorts, hiding his face in Seth’s shoulder. “Started flailin’ like a fish, Rome, should’ve seen him.” Roman shakes his head, says, “The room’s rented under my name tonight. Try not to break anymore shit, alright?” He leaves them in the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He doesn’t believe the hair-washing story for a minute. Dean has done that for Seth countless times, and it’s never ended up like that. If they want to fuck in the shower, more power to them, but goddamn, can they not break shit on the nights the room is booked on Roman’s credit card? 3. Dean’s pacing backstage, his hands sunk deep in his hair, pulling and twisting, frustrated with himself. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go, not even close. He was supposed to be there to the end, him, Seth, and Roman, standing tall and victorious on their one year anniversary of being part of the WWE main roster. But no, of course not, because Dean’s an idiot, because he just has to get cocky and let his mouth run away from him. What good did that do him? None. He was the first person eliminated, and now he’s stuck watching as his team gets decimated: first Swagger, then Cesaro, then Seth, and Roman’s out there alone, two on one, and Dean knows Roman can do it, has as much faith in his abilities as he does in his own, in Seth’s, but it does little to ease the frustration that keeps mounting, knowing that the three of them should’ve been able to take out The Usos, Mysterio, and the Rhodes brothers without breaking a sweat. Even The Real Americans being on their side did fuck all. Seth finds him just as Roman pins Goldust, trying to pull Dean’s hands from his hair and hold them in his own, but Dean’s having none of it, stalking away from Seth, trying to keep his eyes on the monitor showing the rest of the match. ”Dean, c’mon,” Seth says, impeding Dean’s back and forth path, once again trying to take Dean’s hands into his own. Dean lets him this time, lets Seth’s calm breathing ground him. “Sorry,” he says, shaking his head at himself. “I fucked up.” ”No, Dean,” Seth says, with a headshake of his own. “I was eliminated, too. But look, Roman still won it for us.” Sure enough, Roman’s standing there, their music playing in the background. But that doesn’t change the fact that it should be the three of them out there, holding court in the middle of the ring, their fists out to show their solidarity. ”You actually did something,” Dean points out, shrugging. “You eliminated Jey. I didn’t do shit but run my mouth and get my ass eliminated right away.” ”Still looked hot as fuck doing it,” Seth says, undoubtedly trying to lighten the situation. Dean allows half a smile before shaking his head again. ”S’not the point, Seth,” Dean grumbles, tries to pull his hands away from Seth’s. He needs to move, needs to walk, needs to do something other than stand in place, letting all this frustration take root in his bones. Seth lets him go, and Dean resumes his pacing, one, two, three, four, five, turn, five, four, three, two, one, turn. ”Then what is the point, Dean?” Seth asks sharply. He sounds like he’s fed up with Dean’s shit tonight, and it makes Dean feel even worse. This really isn’t how tonight was supposed to go at all, and Dean just keeps making it worse. ”It’s our anniversary, Seth,” Dean retorts, stopping for a second to look at Seth, his hands balled into fists. He needs to hit something, needs to get rid of the weight of this frustration that’s dragging him down. “We’ve been here for a year, and we all should’ve been out there at the end. I wanted–it should’ve been special, Seth.” ”That doesn’t mean it still can’t be,” Seth says softly, an arm around Dean’s waist to pull him in until they’re standing nose to nose. “Pretty sure Rome said something about going out with his cousins–which, fucking weird, considering we just kinda kicked their asses, but whatever, so we’ll have the room to ourselves for a couple hours.” ”Can we try that shower thing again?” Dean asks, mood lifting a little. It’s nowhere near how he wanted tonight to go, but Seth’s always been great at thinking on the fly, coming up with different things that’ll be just as good, if not better. And sex with Seth? It’s always better. Seth raises an eyebrow, which, yeah, last time didn’t go so smoothly, but practice makes perfect, right? That’s what Dean’s always heard, anyway. ”Sure,” Seth says, no doubt just humoring Dean. “The room’s in my name tonight, anyway, so Roman can’t kill us if we break something.” ”Who’s breakin’ what?” Roman asks, finally appearing backstage, tossing Dean his title. He’s grinning, wide and bright, covered in sweat, his hair already pulled back into a bun. He looks proud, victorious, the way they all should’ve looked–Dean shakes his head, letting that thought go. ”I’m breakin’ your face because you’re always so damn pokey,” Dean says, taking a small step back from Seth. It doesn’t work, Seth’s arm cinching tighter around his waist, keeping him right where he is, Dean’s baby held between them. Roman snorts out a laugh, which, rude. Dean could totally break his face if he wanted to, which, for the record, he doesn’t. ”Y’all realize anybody could walk by, right?” Roman asks, tone just this side of chiding. Dean feels Seth shrug. “Not like we haven’t done this before in front of the crowd,” he points out, which, true. It’s not Dean’s fault. He just–it’s Seth. It’s the effect Seth has on him. He needs to be touching him, as often as he can be, cameras and crowds be damned. ”Okay, smartass,” Roman says, smacking Seth in the back of the head. It makes Dean growl out a warning. He doesn’t care if Roman’s just messing around; he should know better than to put his hands on Seth like that. Dean twines his fingers with Seth’s, allowing Seth to hold onto his title. They follow Roman as he leads them down the halls of the arena, all the way to the basement where they stashed their bags for the night. They’re all still in their ring gear, but that’s no different from any other night, making their way out to the parking lot and into their rental, their bags tossed carelessly into the back. Seth’s screamo–”It’s metalcore, Dean, how many times do I have to tell you?”–blasts through the speakers before Roman manages to turn it down. Dean still doesn’t understand how Seth can listen to that so loudly, and not walk around with a headache 24/7. ”Y’all gonna be good for the night if I go out for drinks with Jimmy and Jey?” Roman asks, once they’ve pulled out of the parking lot and are on their way to their hotel. Dean grins from the backseat where Roman can’t see him, anticipating all the fun he and Seth are going to have while Roman’s gone. ”Yeah, dude, go,” Dean says, tamping down the flair of excitement he feels. “Just gonna order in some food and watch a movie or something.” ”Wasn’t born yesterday, Dean,” Roman says, sighing and shaking his head. “Just stay off my bed, alright?” ”Have all the sex in your bed?” Seth cuts in, looking back at Dean with a grin on his face. “Sure thing, Rome.” Dean doesn’t even try to stifle his laughter. ”Do it and I’ll shave your head,” Roman threatens, fucking jerk. That’s not even funny. He knows how much Seth loves his hair, how much Dean loves Seth’s hair. ”You’re not half as funny as you think you are,” Seth fires back. ”I dunno, man,” Roman says, clicking his tongue. “I think I’m pretty damn funny.” They pull into the hotel parking lot, taking the last parking space in the front, and Roman’s quick to turn the car off, to grab his bag from the trunk, never mind the fact that he isn’t getting into the hotel room until Seth checks them in. ”He better not be trying to take my night from me,” Seth says, which Dean hadn’t even thought about. It sounds like something Roman would do, in retaliation for the way Seth flushed the toilet on him while he was showering last month. Dean was wondering when Roman was going to get him back for it, and taking Seth’s night to pay for the hotel room just so he can lecture them about not breaking shit like he does every night the room is booked under his name is a very Roman thing to do. ”Go,” Dean says, shooing Seth away. “I’ll get your bag.” Dean takes his time, stretching until every bone pops and cracks, shouldering his and Seth’s bags. Roman and Seth are waiting at the front desk when he finally makes his way in, and they’re glaring at each other. ”What?” Dean asks, marching straight up to them. He and Seth have plans, dammit, and he is not going to deal with them butting heads all night. He’ll get his own damn room if he has to. Which is a lie, he knows, the moment it crosses his mind. He can’t sleep without Seth, as pathetic as that may seem. ”Nothing,” Seth says, brandishing their key cards. Ah, so that’s it: Seth still managed to beat Roman to check-in. Dean sighs. “We hear your lecture every time you get the room, Rome. We know. You ain’t gotta keep drillin’ it into us, and you don’t gotta take Seth’s night just to reiterate your point. We hear you, man, loud and clear.” ”Whatever, man,” Roman grumbles. “Can we go? Jimmy and Jey are already waitin’.” Roman retreats into the bathroom the moment the door is unlocked, and he’s showered, dressed, and out the door ten minutes later. ”You think something else is going on with him?” Seth asks quietly, looking over at Dean from where he’s sitting on the edge of their bed, undoing the laces on his boots. Dean pauses, hands on his belt buckle. “Think maybe he’s lonely?” It’s gotta be hard for him to be around them all the time, the way they’re always so wrapped up in each other. Dean doesn’t mean for it to happen, it’s just–Seth’s a magnet, and Dean’s forever pulled in. Seth shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe.” Dean hopes that isn’t it, because he doesn’t know if he could change, if he could distance himself from Seth, if Seth could distance himself from Dean. They’d try, for Roman’s sake, Dean knows they would, but they wouldn’t be happy about it, and he knows it wouldn’t work. They finish undressing in silence, throwing their ring gear in a pile on the floor, pushed off into a corner. They’ll pick it up in the morning, throw it into whomever’s bag has the most space. ”Shower?” Dean asks, already retreating into the bathroom. Seth’s hot on his heels, bumping into Dean’s back when Dean stops suddenly. It makes Dean laugh softly, reaching back to grab Seth’s hands, to wrap Seth’s arms around his waist. ”You’ve gotta start the shower, babe,” Seth says, nuzzling against the nape of Dean’s neck. It sends a ripple of shivers down Dean’s spine, and he can only nod, mouth going dry. It takes a minute to get the water to the perfect temperature, but once he does, Dean’s helping Seth in, following behind him, pulling the shower curtain shut. Seth’s standing beneath the shower spray, head tilted back, and the sight makes Dean a little breathless, a lot hard. The water is trickling down Seth’s face, catching in his beard, rivulets streaming down his neck, his chest, catching on the faint line of hair beneath Seth’s belly button, and it makes Dean’s mouth water, has him itching to put his mouth there, to follow each and every ribbon of water with his lips and tongue. Dean decides to hell with restraint, backing Seth up against the shower wall, pressing his lips to Seth’s. Seth’s lips part against his immediately, and Dean wastes no time curling his tongue in, touching it teasingly to the tip of Seth’s, retreating to lick at the swell of Seth’s bottom lip. Seth makes a needy sound that goes straight to Dean’s dick, and he kisses him that much harder, licking at Seth’s teeth, the soft flesh on the inside of his cheeks, his hands cradling Seth’s jaw like he’s something special, something precious, because he is, and he forever will be. He scrapes his teeth over Seth’s beard, down the line of his neck, chasing the rivers of water with his tongue, down the sloping curve of Seth’s collarbone, his chest, nipping his way from one nipple to the other, until Seth’s hand is cradling the back of his head, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath Dean’s mouth. Dean looks up at Seth through the fan of his lashes, smirking as he drops down to his knees. ”Jesus,” Seth groans, head thumping against the wall. ”Careful, babe,” Dean teases, mouthing at the line of Seth’s hip, following the curve of bone until he’s nosing at the crease of Seth’s thigh. He puts a hand there, a silent request for Seth to spread his legs a little, and when he does, Dean laves his tongue over Seth’s balls, sucking them into his mouth and humming, knowing exactly what the little vibrations do to Seth. Seth’s head thunks back against the wall again, and if Dean’s mouth weren’t otherwise occupied, he’d be laughing. As it is, he grips Seth’s dick loosely, smearing the wet tip over his lips before he parts them, curling his tongue over and around the head. ”Oh, holy fuck,” Seth gasps out, a hand tangling in Dean’s hair. Dean closes his eyes and leans into it for a minute, grounded in a way he rarely is, Seth on his tongue, Seth’s hand in his hair, Seth looking down at him like he can’t believe he gets this, like he can’t believe Dean is his, like Dean is everything good and right in the world. It’s a heady feeling, and it makes Dean’s heart ache in the best of ways, in the way only Seth can. He moves his mouth to Seth’s hip, pressing a kiss there, then takes Seth back into his mouth, humming deep in his throat as he swallows Seth down, fighting past the reflexive need to gag until his nose is flush against Seth’s skin. Seth pulls at his hair, sharp little pinpricks of pain that make Dean throb, so hard he feels like he could come just from having Seth in his mouth, salty taste of precome exploding on his tongue. ”I can’t, Dean, oh, god,” Seth groans, hips jerking up into Dean’s mouth. Dean draws back until the head is resting against his bottom lip, dipping the tip of his tongue into the slit, and Seth jerks so sharply it knocks Dean back against the side of the tub, shower curtain once again falling with him, and Seth’s legs must have given out because a moment later, Seth is toppling down on top of him, an elbow digging into Dean’s ribs. ”The fuck, Seth?” Dean’s voice sounds rough, his throat used and scratchy. The water is pelting down on them, and Dean can barely see through the blur of the spray in his face. ”I’m sorry,” Seth says, voice muffled. He has his head in his hands, Dean can see. “I didn’t–my legs. Goddammit, you know what your mouth does to me, Dean.” Dean stifles a laugh. Now is not the time to laugh. He’s soft now, Seth’s soft and mortified, and this just isn’t happening tonight anymore. ”You think Rome’s right?” Dean asks, maneuvering enough so he can pull Seth in against him, his arms loose around Seth’s waist. They don’t have much time to sit like this, the bathtub too small to fit two guys of their size in any comfortable way. Seth’s head falls forward. “Starting to think so, yeah,” he agrees. Dean sighs. He pats at Seth’s leg, says, “Up.” They might as well shower now that it’s clear no shower sex is going to be happening tonight. Goddamn Roman always having to be right. Later, curled up in the same bed, the tv playing softly in the background, Roman comes stumbling in, teetering his way into the bathroom. Dean holds his breath, feels Seth doing the same, and they let it out as a whoosh when Roman bellows, “Goddammit, how many times are y’all gonna do this shit?” 4. They get changed at the arena, stowing their ring gear in the trunk of the car. Roman promised them drinks, lots of drinks, for Dean’s birthday, and Dean is going to capitalize on that. He wants to drink it up with his brothers, his teammates, before going back to the hotel with Seth, his brother, his teammate, his everything, to have ridiculous amounts of birthday sex. ”Y’all ready?” Roman asks, eyeing Dean in the backseat. It’s been almost two weeks since Seth and Roman’s standoff, since Roman came back and found the shower destroyed, again. Things have gotten better since then, back to normal once Dean and Seth had told Roman that he was right, that they’re too uncoordinated to have sex in the shower, and that for their health–and Roman’s sanity–they’ll stop trying. Dean smacks the back of Roman’s headrest giddily. “Drinks are waitin’, man, let’s go.” ”The bar’s not going anywhere, Dean,” Seth says, shaking his head, trying to hide a smile. ”S’my birthday, Seth,” Dean fires back. “Sooner we get to the bar, sooner we get back to the hotel, right?” Dean watches Seth swallow, the way his eyes glaze over momentarily. “You heard the man,” Seth says to Roman, “the bar’s waiting.” One drink becomes two, then four, and Dean loses count of how many Roman has shoved in his hand, but he’s laughing, feeling lighter than he has in days, Roman on one side, Seth on the other, swapping stories about different matches they’ve had–Dean and Seth, anyway–while Roman tells ridiculous stories from his college days that make Dean snort, his belly aching from how hard he’s laughing. It’s the best night Dean could’ve asked for, and it gets better after they take a cab back to the hotel, clumsily tripping over each other as they make their way to their room. Dean and Seth have a single for the night, but Roman’s room is right on the other side, close enough if they should need anything. ”Y’all be good,” Roman says, playfully wagging a finger in their direction. Seth snorts out a laugh right in Dean’s ear. “Not likely,” he says, smothering the rest of his laughter in Dean’s shoulder. Dean shakes his head fondly. Seth’s a happy drunk, laughing at anything and everything, clinging to Dean like a barnacle. ”C’mon, babe,” Dean says, patting Seth’s pockets. “Where’s the key?” ”Back pocket,” Seth replies, grunting when Dean slips his hand into the too tight material of Seth’s jeans, squeezing for good measure before he pulls out the keycard. Seth’s probably too drunk to do anything, if the way he’s stumbling is any indication, but he’s on Dean the minute the door is closed behind them, mouthing at the sensitive skin of Dean’s neck, fumbling with the button of his jeans. ”Slow down,” Dean says softly, capturing Seth’s hands with his own. Seth looks up at him with a frown, brown eyes blinking slowly in confusion. ”Wha’s wrong?” Seth asks, taking a step back. His eyes are glassy from the drinks he had, and his face is already flushed. He looks wrecked, and Dean wants nothing more than to wreck him further, to peel off every layer Seth’s wearing and get his mouth on him, his dick inside him. Dean smiles softly at him. He’s had a lot to drink himself, but his body’s used to it. “Nothin’s wrong, babe,” he says, tucking his index fingers into the front belt loops on Seth’s jeans, using them to pull him back in. “Got all night, is all.” Seth licks his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth for a second before he says, “Yeah, but I want you now, Dean.” Dean has never had the pleasure of seeing Seth after that many drinks, but apparently put some alcohol in him and he’s horny as ever, ready to tear Dean’s clothes off. ”You sure?” Dean asks, lips hovering a hairsbreadth from Seth’s. Consent is important, he knows, even if he and Seth have been together for almost six months. Just because Seth’s drunk and pleading doesn’t mean Dean isn’t going to outright ask. ”Always,” Seth says immediately, closing the last bit of space between them. When he licks into Dean’s mouth, he tastes like something fruity, the taste of vodka still there on his tongue. Dean breaks the kiss long enough to pant out, “Bed,” keeping his hands anchored at Seth’s hips to help guide him into the room. He gets so lost in the kiss, in the taste and feel of Seth’s lips and tongue, the velvet soft flesh inside his mouth, that he doesn’t realize their bags are still in the way until he’s tripping over them, sending Seth sprawling out on the floor, his own knees hitting the carpet as his foot gets caught in one of the handles. This is what happens when they plan ahead, when they book a hotel room before going to the arena: the bags with their every day clothes are left in the middle of the room, and they were too wrapped up in each other to remember to move them out of the way. ”Goddammit,” Dean swears, reaching down to pull the bag off his foot, throwing it against the wall. He crawls over to Seth, cradling Seth’s head in his hands. “You okay?” Seth looks up at Dean blearily. He shakes his head, his eyes squeezing shut, and then he’s sitting up and turning to the side, emptying the contents of his stomach on the hotel carpet. Goddammit. Dean holds Seth’s hair back, letting him finish his business. No point in rushing him off to the bathroom since he’s already made a mess of the carpet. There’s a knock at the door, and Dean debates ignoring it for a minute before the knocking starts again, louder and more insistent. Dean stands up with a sigh, crossing the room to open the door, and of course, Roman is standing there, in a pair of flannel pajama pants and nothing else, his hair piled into a bun atop his head. ”The fuck are you two doin’ over here?” Roman asks, sounding half-asleep, pushing his way inside the room. ”I tripped, we fell, Seth’s gettin’ sick,” Dean says, short and to the point. This night is turning into a nightmare. ”I see that,” Roman says, turning right back around and walking out. “Have fun cleanin’ that up.” Dean stands there, staring at Roman’s retreating back. “You’re not gonna help?” Roman laughs. “Hell no. I’ve got my own room. See y’all in the morning.” The door clicks shut behind him, and Dean refocuses his attention on Seth, who’s looking up at Dean from his spot on the floor with tears in his eyes. ”Don’ feel too good, D,” Seth says, sniffling. He sounds pitiful, and it’s breaking Dean’s heart. ”C’mon,” Dean says, holding a hand out to Seth to help him up. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then we’ll go to bed, okay?” Seth nods, dragging his feet as Dean leads him into the bathroom. He wets a washcloth, wipes down Seth’s face, then fills a cup with water from the tap. “Gargle and spit. Need to rinse your mouth out.” Seth does as directed, handing the cup back to Dean when he’s done. ”Think you’re gonna be sick again?” ”No,” Seth says softly. “Think I’m okay now.” Dean blows out a relieved breath. He needs to get Seth into bed, then he’s gotta figure out a way to clean the carpet so the hotel won’t charge Seth too much for the damage. As far as birthday’s go, it’s still one of the better one’s Dean’s had. +1 In hindsight, trying to eliminate Roman from the Royal Rumble probably wasn’t the best idea Dean’s ever had, but they’d said–they’d agreed–that it was every man for himself, that once the numbers started dwindling, they’d do what they needed to do to win. He wanted his moment, of course, and he’s sure Seth and Roman both wanted their own as well. Of course they did. Who didn’t? But Dean made his move too soon, made Roman eliminate both him and Seth, and now Seth’s pissed at him, pacing the alcove they’ve claimed for themselves while waiting for Roman to arrive. ”I said I was sorry,” Dean says again. It’s probably the tenth time he’s said it, but it hasn’t stopped Seth from pacing, hasn’t stopped him from giving Dean the silent treatment. It’s grating on Dean’s nerves, an uneasy frustration starting to build. He messed up, and he knows it. Seth doesn’t have to make it worse by ignoring him. Seth stops suddenly, pivoting to face Dean. “We said, Dean, we said, if we made it to the final four. How many guys were still in the ring?” Dean shrugs. He doesn’t know. He wasn’t counting. ”A whole lot more than four!” Seth exclaims, running his hands through his hair. He deflates a little, blowing out a slow breath. “I’m not mad at you, Dean, okay? I’m not. I’m just–I wanted this win really bad, y’know?” Dean nods. “I know. So did I. And so did Rome.” ”C’mere,” Seth says, beckoning him over. All the tension leaves Dean’s body once he’s wrapped in Seth’s arms, his head resting on Seth’s shoulder. “Next year, that’s gonna be one of us.” Damn straight it is. Dean will do whatever it takes to help one of them win it. “Hope it’s you,” he says honestly. As much as he wants it for himself, he wants to see Seth win it, wants to see Seth main event WrestleMania, wants to see Seth walk out with the big gold wrapped around his waist. ”Sap,” Seth says, but he squeezes Dean a little tighter. ”You think Rome’s still pissed at me?” Dean asks, in a voice he hates the sound of: terrified, needy, small. ”Nah,” Seth says, sending shivers down Dean’s back as his hands move up and down. “I’m sure he understands.” ”I do,” Roman says, startling Dean. He tries to pull out of Seth’s embrace, but Roman’s suddenly there plastered against his back, pressing Dean into Seth even further. “I get it,” he continues, “and I ain’t mad at you, uce.” Dean relaxes that much more, the ball of uneasiness in his belly unraveling. ”I’m beat,” Roman says, pulling away, the heat of his body no longer plastered along Dean’s back. “Y’all ready to head back to the hotel?” ”Yes, sir,” Seth says, a grin on his face. He looks tired, like he’s about to fall over where he stands. The sooner they’re back at the hotel, the better. Dean takes Seth’s bag, shouldering it along with his own. He keeps a hand at the small of Seth’s back, helping him into the SUV they’ve rented for the week before tossing their bags in the back, joining him a minute later. Roman’s driving again, because he doesn’t trust either of them to not wreck the vehicle, so Dean uses the short drive to hold Seth tightly to him, his eyes getting heavier. The Rumble was a long match, and as much as Dean loved it, it took a lot out of him, and all he wants to do now is strip off his clothes and crawl into bed with Seth. ”Needa shower,” Seth says sleepily, burrowing further into Dean’s side. ”Sure you don’t wanna wait til morning?” Dean asks quietly. It’s probably for the best that they do, because Seth’s liable to fall asleep in there at this rate. ”Hair will be gross,” Seth replies. Sometimes Dean is grateful for his short, thinning hair. Seems like hell to deal with all the hair Seth and Roman have. Roman quietly parks, shutting the car off and popping the trunk. “I got the bags. Take him up to the room.” Dean offers Roman a grateful smile, tugging a sleepy Seth out of the backseat, keeping an arm around him until they approach the doors, then it’s a hand on the small of Seth’s back again, until they’re in the privacy of the elevators. Seth all but collapses against him, tucking his face in against Dean’s neck. ”C’mon, Sleeping Beauty,” Dean says playfully, when the elevator doors chime open. Seth smacks him in the stomach half-heartedly, but he follows Dean out of the elevator, down the hall to their room. ”Shower and sleep,” Seth says on a groan, thumping his head lightly against the wall. ”Two seconds, babe.” Dean finally finds the keycard in the front pocket of his pants, unlocking the door and urging Seth inside. “Go, shower, I’ll grab you somethin’ clean.” Seth kicks off his boots, removing the tac vest and tossing it on the floor. His shirt follows, and Dean’s mouth goes dry watching the play of muscles in Seth’s back, the way they move and flex when Seth lifts his arms and drops them back down at his sides. Dean picks up the trail of Seth’s clothes, storing them in the corner with the rest of their bags before digging Seth’s out, pulling out a clean t-shirt and a pair of boxers. When Dean gets into the bathroom, the shower is running, but Seth’s bent over the counter, looking for all the world like he’s asleep. Dean closes the door, walks up behind Seth, caging him in with the brackets of his arms. ”You wanna shower, you have to actually get in the tub,” Dean points out, meeting Seth’s eyes in the mirror. Seth gives him a soft, sleepy smile, and it makes Dean’s heart lurch in his chest. Jesus. He will never not love seeing that look on Seth’s face. ”Was waiting for you,” Seth says, standing up straight, his back flush to Dean’s chest. Seth’s so malleable like this, eyes blinking slowly. Dean moves Seth’s hair to one side, setting his mouth to the other. He scrapes the skin lightly with the blunt edges of his teeth, splaying a hand over Seth’s belly to keep him upright. The sound Seth lets out is more sigh than moan, but he relaxes bodily against Dean, one of his hands covering Dean’s own. They shouldn’t, Dean knows, knows that he should get Seth in and out of the shower so he can sleep, but goddamn, Seth’s brown eyes blinking slowly at him, the sleepy, lust filled look in them, Dean wants to take him apart with his mouth, his hands, his cock, so damn badly he’s aching with it. Seth rubs back against him, the tiniest roll of his hips that has Seth’s eyes fluttering shut, has Dean stifling a groan against Seth’s shoulder. His hand moves lower, toying with the button on Seth’s pants, but he bypasses it for now, molding his hand around the hardening line of Seth’s dick. Dean watches raptly as Seth’s eyelids flutter shut, the way his hips arch up into Dean’s hand. His head’s tipped back, baring the long line of his throat, and Dean wishes–god, he fucking wishes–he could set his mouth there, suck bruise after bruise into Seth’s skin, mark him for all the world to see. Seth’s rolling his hips back and forth, into the grip of Dean’s hand, back against the swell of Dean’s dick. He wants–he needs, god, he feels like he’s burning up, sweat prickling along his hairline, the nape of his neck, mouthing at Seth’s shoulder. It feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t get some skin on skin contact, so he reluctantly removes his hand from Seth, taking the smallest step back so he can pull his shirt off, kicking away his boots and shoving his pants and boxers down to his ankles. He meets Seth’s eyes in the mirror again, and the look Seth is giving him can’t be described as anything but hungry. Dean plasters himself against Seth’s back, shivering at the feel of Seth’s skin against his heated flesh. ”Can you?” Seth asks, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip. ”What do you need, babe?” Dean asks. He mouths at the shell of Seth’s ear, tugging the lobe between his teeth. It makes Seth groan and shiver, canting his hips back against Dean’s groin. ”You,” Seth whispers, head falling forward. It’s cheesy as all fuck, but fuck if it doesn’t make Dean’s heart swell. He makes quick work of Seth’s pants and boxers, shoving them down as far as he can, and it’s like everything gets hotter, burns a little brighter, Seth’s ass grinding shamelessly against Dean’s dick. There’s bottles of lotion on the counter, and Dean would rather they had lube, but he needs this now–they need this now, and he reaches for it, falling to his knees once it’s in his hand. ”Lean forward a little,” Dean rasps out, a hand set to the small of Seth’s back. Seth does as he’s told, spreading his legs a little wider, and Dean can’t help the, “Fuckin’ perfect, babe,” that slips out. It’s easy work stretching Seth. He opens so easily, so readily, riding Dean’s fingers as they’re curled and spread inside him, and the quiet little gasps and moans he makes go straight to Dean’s dick, hard and leaking between his legs. ”M’ready,” Seth bites out, jerking as though he’s been shocked when Dean’s fingers skate across his prostate. Dean rises to his feet, smearing the last of the lotion over his dick. His hands are shaking a little, and his throat feels dry, and he doesn’t know why. This isn’t the first time they’ve done this, not even close, and it won’t be the last time, either, but it feels like so much, something so big and all encompassing Dean almost can’t breathe with it. It’s what Seth does to him, what Seth will always do to him, and Dean never wants that to change. It’s a slow, easy press in. Seth’s so tight, so hot around him, and it robs the rest of Dean’s breath from his lungs. ”Jesus,” Seth groans, knocking his head back against Dean’s shoulder. It presses Dean in deeper, and all Dean can do is hold tight to Seth’s hips, watching the way Seth’s chest rises and falls with every breath he takes. ”You good?” Dean asks, trying desperately not to come. Seth’s squeezing around him, and Dean doesn’t know if he’s doing it on purpose, or if he’s still trying to adjust, but the sensation is almost too much, pulling Dean toward the edge faster than he wants. ”Move,” Seth says, demands, his hands braced on the edge of the sink. He looks wild, hair disheveled, lips bitten rid. His face is flushed, and it covers most of his chest. There’s sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat, trickling down the slopes of his collarbone, down the planes of his pecs. He’s beautiful, Dean thinks, and he doesn’t care how soft that makes him seem, how sappy and ridiculous, because it’s the truest thing he’s ever known. Seth is beautiful and amazing, and Dean is so goddamn lucky. Seth meets every rock of his hips eagerly, pushing back as Dean rocks forward, and the sounds he makes are the hottest thing Dean has ever had the pleasure of hearing. It makes his toes curl, heat pooling low in his belly. ”Touch yourself, Seth,” Dean whispers into Seth’s ear, eyes locked on their reflections in the mirror. Seth’s hand moves to his cock, and he almost buckles forward once he gets his hand around himself, but Dean’s there holding him upright, one hand splayed out over the center of Seth’s chest, close enough that Dean can feel the rapid thump-thump-thump of Seth’s heart. ”Yeah,” Dean rasps out, licks his dry lips. The tip of his tongue flicks out against the shell of Seth’s ear. “Look at you. So fuckin’ beautiful, babe.” Seth hiccups out a groan, stroking himself faster, and it makes him clench down around Dean rhythmically, and all Dean can do is hold Seth’s hips a little tighter, thrusting and grinding his dick in as much as he’s able. He’s barely able to get out a warning before he’s coming, spilling hot and wet inside Seth, his toes curling against the floor. He fucks Seth through it as much as he can, urging Seth on, begging him to come, and when he does, it’s almost too much, the tight clench of his ass around Dean’s sensitive cock wringing out another round of aftershocks, rocking Dean to his core. Seth’s breathing heavily, but his eyes are locked on Dean’s in the mirror, and he’s smiling, that private satisfied smile that only Dean gets to see, and it makes Dean fall in love that much more. There’s a wet squelch when Dean pulls out, and he all but collapses forward onto Seth. He drops soft kisses to every inch of skin he can reach, needing a moment to settle the racing of his heart. ”You good?” Seth asks. His hand starts carding through Dean’s hair, and it can’t be too comfortable of an angle for him. Dean hums softly. “Yeah, I’m good. Ready to shower?” Seth laughs, and Dean feels it more than hears it. “Hell no. M’ready to go to sleep.” Dean shakes his head. He helps Seth clean up, shutting off the shower before they redress. When they open the bathroom door, Roman’s sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes moving from the tv to where they’re standing in the doorway. He grins at them, starting a slow clap, says, “Good job on the sex, and congrats on not breakin’ anything.” Dean flips him off. Damn smartass.

#ambrollins #ambrollins fic #fic: i write it #dean/seth #all the ambrollins fic #they just make me happy okay?#also posted on ao3 #otp: wrestling soulmates

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