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distant-velleity · 7 months ago

Text

the true you

Summary: Chrysos sees Santiago's wings for the first time. It's your standard Chrytiago "they DEFINITELY have some kind of feelings for each other but won't admit it" fic. Word count: 2.4k+ A/N: Um so I may or may not have, to the detriment of my homework, had a burst of inspiration and written all this yesterday. O. Oops? Whatever <3 No beta we Overblot like pretty anime boys This takes place during Book 5 (bc haha themes of accepting and loving urself am i right) but the timeline is pretty muddled otherwise so. That's why a lot of usual characters aren't present and other things. Enjoy :)

Chrysos glares down at his phone, as if subjecting it to his scathing wrath will make a reply come any faster. He’s well aware of the awkward looks Yu and Jack are giving him and each other, but quite frankly, he doesn’t care.

where are you? — Sent right before classes started.

hello? — Sent between first and second period.

are you sick?? — Sent during third period.

i swear to the seven if you don’t respond im gonna hunt you down. consider this your warning — Sent as soon as lunch break started.

It’s already halfway through lunch. Where the hell is he?

“Um, Chrysos,” Yu starts, reaching across the table to tap his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Chrysos mutters angrily, not looking up.

Jack crosses his arms. “No need to be like that. He’s just asking a question.”

“Says you—” Chrysos inhales sharply, holds it, and then exhales. Deep breaths, now. Jack’s unfortunately right. “S…Sorry. It’s simply that Parro hasn’t been here all day, and he isn’t replying to my texts. He’s read them, but he isn’t replying.”

He looks up and sees Yu fidget, a telltale sign that the TA knows something.

Chrysos narrows his eyes. “Are there circumstances I should be made aware of?”

“Oh… yeah.” Yu frowns. “There’s, um… a bit of a situation right now.”

“What?” ask Jack and Chrysos in unison.

Like a fish out of water, Yu opens and then immediately closes his mouth. He thinks deeply for a second, and then shakes his head. “I promised not to talk about the details,” he says, both apologetic and uncomfortable. “Santiago… really isn’t feeling it, so. You know. He’s still at Ramshackle until we can quote-unquote ‘get the situation under control.’”

“Right, but then he could at least—”

At least get over himself to tell me?

Chrysos stops himself, struck by shame. Isn’t he just taking Santiago’s usual enthusiasm for granted? It’s difficult not to, but if he were in Santiago’s position, then…

Being taken for granted really isn’t easy. He should know…

“Twisted Wonderland to Chrysos?” Jack asks gruffly.

Oh, he’s been quiet for a little too long.

“There’s no use in me just texting him,” Chrysos decides abruptly, turning off his phone. “I’ll seek him out once school ends. Then I’ll find a way to get answers, if I can’t get them out of you.”

He doesn’t miss the way Yu grimaces and shares a look—that he’s too stubborn to admit he cares, isn’t he one—with Jack. “Good luck. If anyone can get through to him… it’d better be you.”

…

“So, this is his room?” asks Chrysos.

“Yep. I’ll be at Pomefiore if you need me,” Yu tells him, and then leaves him alone in Ramshackle’s second-floor hallway.

As much as Chrysos wants to just barge right in and demand answers, there are certain sensibilities he has to accommodate for. He sighs to take a moment for himself, observing—there’s a tray of food left by the door, on the ground, and totally untouched. Perhaps, if Santiago was holing himself up as reported, the rest of the NRC tribe had tried to offer him food…? And then he simply didn’t accept it, for whatever reason…

Chrysos’ frown deepens, and he knocks on the door.

“Santiago?” he calls, making sure to project his voice enough for the beastman to hear.

There’s a soft thud, a string of surprised curses, and what Chrysos swears is the sound of something flapping.

“Chrysos?!” Santiago basically squawks. “Were you serious about hunting me down?”

“Oh, so you did read every single one of my texts!” Chrysos retorts. “I think I’m owed a bit of an explanation here.”

“Er, well…” Santiago’s voice grows small. Inside, something seems to rustle against the walls. “Um—it’s…”

Chrysos closes his eyes briefly. Stupid bird making me feel stupid feelings. “Listen,” he says a little more softly, though still firm. “I—”

Missed seeing you in class? No. Nope. It’s only been a day.

“...It’ll be better if you just rip the bandage off and tell me. Think about it, how many more classes can you miss like this?”

Santiago is quiet, and more fluttering noises come from inside the bedroom. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s… probably easier if you come inside first and see it for yourself,” he says reluctantly. “But—don’t judge! Please.”

Honestly, Chrysos has never heard Santiago—confident, flamboyant, mischievous Santiago—sound so insecure. Not even when their lives were actually at risk. It’s… odd. “Alright.”

Not really sure what to expect, he grabs the (unlocked, somehow) handle and pushes the door open—

Chrysos’ eyes widen.

Santiago is huddled on the bed by the window, the pale winter sun illuminating his hair. Wrapped tightly around his body are wings, red-and-blue feathers in shades that are just slightly duller than his hair. They’re lined a little oddly, though, messy and un-preened, and several lone feathers are scattered about on the floor.

Frankly, though? Chrysos is in awe. “You… You have wings?” he asks, and immediately regrets how stupid he sounds.

“I’m a parrot beastman, Chrysos,” Santiago almost whines. “I can’t help it. They don’t normally look like this, I promise! Not all awkward and unclean and unnatural and—I don’t even have them at all, generally, but I ran out of the transformation potion and—”

“Hold on,” Chrysos interrupts, back to seriousness. “You take a transformation potion? Regularly? And no one’s noticed?”

Santiago wilts, nervously plucking at his own feathers. “The doses last really long since it’s a pretty weak potion, just enough to make me look relatively human—and I was supposed to get a refill over break, but the whole training camp thing happened, so I couldn’t—and now I’m out, so… hnnggh. Can you close the door already?”

Chrysos shuts it behind him without a second thought. Mostly because his brain is piecing together other, more significant matters—the fact that Santiago had mentioned never really having many friends, the diction he uses to describe his wings, the insecurity…

Do you not see how gorgeous you are? Who the hell did this to you?

Not that it’s hard to guess; society and the people it produces are vicious. Regardless of whether you’re on land or under the sea, it seems.

Something must show on his face, because Santiago presses himself even further into the contradictory shame and safety of his wings. “You’re smart, you’ve probably figured it out already,” he mumbles. “I can’t stand the thought of… of everyone seeing me with my wings. I don’t care if it’s just my ‘human’ form, or when I’m using my signature spell, but”—he shudders—“people think it’s weird when I’m not visibly one or the other. Or at least they used to. And I don’t wanna have to deal with that here. I mean, can you imagine? I was doing just fine and getting along with people and then—”

The more Santiago rambles nervously, the more enraged Chrysos feels on his behalf. Maybe, it’s subconscious empathy from his own childhood, where his status protected him from fellow students at school but not from the arrogant mers of the aristocracy—

Inhale, exhale. Don’t give into your own grudges. Think about this rationally.

—okay. As furious as Chrysos feels, Santiago is being vulnerable with him, and for once he can’t just take advantage of that. With many others, he would—but in this case, he can’t. He just can’t.

“So,” Santiago stammers out finally, “I don’t know if I can go back to class soon. Vil said he might look into brewing a temporary replacement, but he didn’t look too happy with my decision to hide my wings, so—you know. I just. I don’t think I can do it. I…I think I’ll just call in sick for a bit.”

He manages to pluck a feather from his wings, fidgeting out of stress in the silence Chrysos is leaving. If there’s any blood coming out, then it’s hard to tell through the matte crimson of his wings.

Shit.

Chrysos takes another deep breath.

Don’t make an impulsive decision. Don’t make an impulsive decision. Don’t m—

“I’ve heard enough. Come to Octavinelle with me,” he declares.

Santiago blinks at him. “Huh?”

Well, he’s said it already. No way he can back out now. Chrysos swallows. “I’m going to show you something.” And hopefully convince you of… something.

He watches the hesitation emerge clear on Santiago’s face. “But… I don’t want to go out—if people see me, then—”

“If they say anything out of line, you can ignore them, and I’ll teach them a lesson.”

Santiago worries his lower lip with his teeth, and doesn’t reply.

“As you said,” Chrysos says, “‘it’s best if you see it for yourself.’”

…

“What are you doing?” Santiago asks, incredulous, as Chrysos starts taking off his own uniform piece by piece.

“I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that” Chrysos mutters, carefully undoing his bowtie so his necklace stays on. “It’s just easier to transform with less clothes on.”

Santiago’s eyes light up with a realization, and he almost stands up from where he’s sort of just perched on a bench. “‘Transform’? So, you mean—you’re showing me your mer form?”

“Mm-hmm. Hold this.” Down to basically just his shirt and slacks, Chrysos hands Santiago the articles of clothing he’s shed, and steps out of his shoes.

“I thought…” Santiago’s lips press into a line. “Honestly, I thought you were just never gonna show me. Or that you didn’t want to.”

Ah. There it is.

Chrysos stares at the water of the pool—pristine and free of chemicals, since it’s made specifically to accommodate merfolk. “Well… I’m not sure if I’m as ashamed of my true form as you are.” Thinking about it now, though, he probably wouldn’t have shown it to Santiago unless it was necessary, like that time at Camp Vargas. Maybe that makes him a hypocrite. “But we’re not here to talk about ‘would have’s and ‘could have’s. How much do you know about merfolk culture?”

“Oh, uh…” Santiago seems surprised by the sudden topic redirection. “Not a lot, actually. It’s mostly only what I’ve heard from you.”

Chrysos sighs—not at Santiago, but at the facts he has to remind himself of. “Merfolk tend to value more human-like appearances, especially those who come from more populated settlements. I’m sure you’ve seen the stereotypical half-human, half-fish depiction of our kind; those are the kind of merfolk who are considered attractive and worth people’s time.”

He turns his back on Santiago to step over to the pool’s edge, sit down, and let his feet enter the water. Almost immediately, as soon as he starts imagining it, they start merging back into his ever-familiar tail. Magic takes care of the whole clothing issue, and consequently, he starts feeling the weight of his fins and spines.

Behind him, Chrysos can hear his uniform being put down and Santiago excitedly scurrying over.

“W-Wait—” He holds up a hand, conveniently hiding his face since he’s not ready to be perceived like that—not in the middle of his transformation—and stopping Santiago. “Let me… finish,” he says, a little lamely and clipped.

Chrysos eases himself down into the water, letting himself fully shed his ‘human’ appearance. When he’s fully submerged, he gives himself a few moments—looking down at his webbed hands, his scales, his angry red patterns and venomous spines…

(“Of course, what else could you expect from a monster like that?” — Said one of the king’s associates.

“Positively magnificent!” — said Rook and Vil when they caught a glimpse of his mer form.)

…Well, now Chrysos is pretty sure what message he’s trying to get across to Santiago.

He swims back up and resurfaces, holding onto the pool’s edge; right next to where Santiago is sitting, posture more relaxed, as if he’s temporarily forgotten about his wing predicament.

“Woah,” Santiago breathes, looking… awestruck? “You’re so…” He gestures vaguely with a hand, wings fluttering. “...beautiful, I don’t know. Like—Seven, I know that sounds weird, and I hope you don’t tell anyone I said that aloud, but.”

Chrysos opens his mouth, closes it, and looks very intently at the tiles. I could say the same for you, he thinks, but immediately shuts that down. Don’t get distracted. “Well, that’s… not what I was taught to think. Merfolk like myself, and the Leeches—we aren’t exactly viewed favorably. I suppose it was the same for you. People are so shallow sometimes.”

Santiago’s wings droop. “...Yeah.”

“But,” continues Chrysos, “I—I wasn’t trying to make this about me. What I’m saying is—you showed me the you that you’re afraid will be criticized, so the favor should be returned. And it’s a reminder that it’s stupid to just go along with the standards other people think you should adhere to. If everyone under the sea was exactly 50% human-looking and 50% fish, then it’d just be… well, I’d rather live the rest of my life enduring Trein’s lectures.”

“At least it’s balanced.” Still, the witty comment has Santiago snickering genuinely.

Chrysos ignores the way his heart skips a beat from the sound of it. “Riiight. Anyway, if everyone on land looked wholly human, then it’d be ridiculous too. Wouldn’t it?”

“I guess, yeah,” Santiago admits. He looks over one shoulder to examine his wing, back muscles flexing. “When you put it that way, it’s kinda like…” He glances down at the ground. “...this is all kind of pointless. There’s people who aren’t gonna be happy about my existence anyway, so I might as well embrace it.”

“So I’m finally getting through to you,” Chrysos deadpans.

Santiago kicks, playfully splashing water at Chrysos. “Let me have my epiphany in peace! When I preen and get my shine back, you’re gonna regret talking to me like that.”

He doesn’t say it, but a part of Chrysos is glad that this part of their dynamic isn’t changing. With any tension having already faded like bubbles rising to the distant surface, he smirks. “You’ll be taking my words to heart, then?”

“Honestly, I’m, uh, not sure how I’ll handle sitting in class with my wings,” replies Santiago, “but I’m just gonna have to deal with it. Using all those transformation potions is… I knew it for a while, but it was just the easy way out. I’ll tell Vil he doesn’t need to brew anything for me.”

If nothing else, it’s a start.

“In that case”—Chrysos points a clawed finger at Santiago, a mock warning—“I’d better see you in class tomorrow.”

“Aww, you missed me that much?”

Santiago smiles back at him.

“Don’t worry—I still wouldn’t miss annoying you in the middle of a lecture for the world.”

taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @casp1an-sea @elenauaurs @nahelenia

(for some of you guys on my normal/art taglist, i didn't tag you bc i don't know if you want to be tagged in fics, so 😭if that needs to be changed let me know)

#kai's writing #twst oc #chrysos pendentif #santiago parro #wowww i havent posted a chrytiago fic in how long? feels like it's been forever #i miss them i miss their banter #sighhhs im sad that they went to different vargas camps but this way i have plot-supported reasoning for this fic

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glystenangel · 2 years ago

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hii can i request an eren x reader oneshot of "unrequited" requited love trope pls🥹? just both of them heavily pining e.o but not making any move on it. fluff & slight angst?

have a good day & welcome back xxx

"Unrequited"

Eren x GN!Reader (Modern AU)

tags/warnings: fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers but before the lovers part LOL, pining, quote unquote unrequited love that's actually v requited, T EN SI ON, heavy pining, coffee date, wild af assumptions and a strong case of the misunderstands, & excessive use of italics bc i'm only human

~1.7k words

thanks for requesting, i hope you like<3

_________________

The thing is, Eren likes you.

A lot.

A lot, a lot, a lot, a lot.

But, it’s one-sided.

Whenever you two hang out and in spite of your insistence that you were having a good time, you occasionally get this pained look on your face as if you would rather avoid being seen with him. Let alone just be with him.

It’s not only that, but any time he tried to make any semblance of a move on you, you would give him this pleading look. Shiny eyes and your throat all tense with the breath he could tell you were holding.

Like you were begging him not to tell you.

Because, Eren supposed, you both knew the answer.

He chokes down that heartbreaking assumption every time, bowing his head and changing the subject because the absolute last thing he wants to do is fuck up your already precarious friendship with each other. Sure, you’re perfectly lovely to him half of the time. Affectionate, even. Any other half of the time, you seem…uncomfortable. Unreadable. It reminds him of days that are cold and foggy. He can squint at the shapes outside of his windows, tinted gray from the weather, and guess each vague form to be houses or people against the dim horizon. Though there was no guarantee that even one of those blurry predictions would ever be accurate. He agonized regularly about the fact that the cause of your discomfort is most likely him. Maybe he got a little too close to you sometimes. A bit too flirty.

To be honest, Eren knows that the only way to preserve your friendship is to remind himself constantly that you don’t like him back. That the fog doesn’t have anything in it, just illusions of how he wishes you could be together.

Today, he’s indulging himself freely in the delusion that you’re both on a date.

You had agreed to meet him for coffee. Innocent enough, but when he sees you he can’t help but become overwhelmed by the mere sight of you.

He almost feels guilty, because this is just a totally selfish effort to gaze at the undeniable light that floods into your eyes when he asks about something you like, spot the corner of your mouth lifting before he makes you laugh for the umpteenth time, and to hear the soothe of your voice saying mhm as you listen to him tell a story. You’re beautiful to him, in everything you do.

You smile back once your searching eyes land on his, shimmering emerald and thickly veiled reverence.

Right then and there, Eren decides he doesn't give a shit that he’s being selfish.

That excited, happy expression on your face is more than enough for him.

_________________

You like Eren.

It’s one the easiest things you’ve ever admitted to yourself.

You like him a lot, in fact.

So much so, that you have been secretly cultivating a deep fear that you will ruin your friendship with him. To accommodate that fear and keep your daydreams in line, you do your best to keep hanging out with him and acting like you enjoy just being friends. Even if it means swallowing your feelings at every brush of his hand on your arm or not allowing yourself to look too long at the handsome planes of his finely structured face. It doesn’t help that he’ll suddenly lay the charm on you at random times, trapping you in his seagreen eyes and making you freeze at the most undoubtedly meaningless, offhand compliments that he slips into conversations.

It really didn’t help that he was so nice to you either. Any problem you had, he was there, helping you calm down and talk through the emotions that kept you from feeling your best. Any errand you needed done, any door that needed opening, any walk you wanted company on, Eren was there and offering whatever he could to make your life easier. But that was just Eren, he did that for all of his friends. You don’t think you had ever seen him allow Armin to make any bookshelves by himself or miss any special event that involved his sister Mikasa. With you, it was definitely no different.

Despite your best efforts, he was so attentive that he seemed to notice you trying to keep him at arm’s length, and he often asked if he was making you uncomfortable.

Yes, You always thought to yourself, Yes, you are. I’m in love with you and it’s driving me crazy.

And then you would provide him with a wordless shake of your head.

Truthfully, the careful check-ins he did with you only made you like him even more. It consistently showed you that he respected you, and left your heart beating fast. Caring for others always seemed to be hardwired into Eren’s nature, and you adore that about him.

The reason you had agreed to meet with him for coffee today was purely self-serving. You had seen him a few days ago, but you missed him so much that you had cleared your entire schedule for the day to have coffee with him for as long as possible.

The cafe is busy and the scent of grinded coffee beans is heavy in the air, but you pay no mind to any of it as soon as you catch sight of Eren and begin walking towards him.

You wonder if he missed you too, or if he had invited you just because you said you were available. What if you weren’t even the first person he had thought of? The thoughts make you briefly frown, your feet stopping right before the table.

Eren quirks up a brow in concern, and you note the crinkle in the olive toned skin set in the middle of his dark eyebrows.

“Everything okay?”

The prompt instantly makes you ashamed, how could you have thought of him so poorly? Of course he missed you and thought of you first, it just probably wasn’t in the way you wanted him to think of you. You two are good friends after all.

Having someone like him in your life is plenty of happiness for you, even without your feelings being reciprocated.

A smile finds its way back to your face and you slide into the seat across from him, “Everything’s great.”

_________________

When you both have your fill of coffee and pastries crusted in sugar crystals, Eren offers to drive you home.

As he steals glances at you from behind the wheel, and you do the same from shotgun, a comfortable silence descends between the broad curve of his shoulder and the elbow you have casually laid across the glovebox.

“I’m glad we’re friends.” He suddenly says, the radiant red of the traffic light lining his face with maroon shadows.

“Me too.” You beam at the sentiment, “But, what makes you say that?”

The light turns green, and you can’t tell if you hear him or the tires sighing as the car regains motion.

“I just…love being around you.” He begins, more gently than you expected, “Even though we’ve been friends for so long, I’m still learning things about you that surprise me.”

You don’t respond, too stunned to, and Eren tilts his head to peer at you over the curve of his cheek.

“In a good way.” He adds quickly, “I admire how you open up and the way we can have fun doing nothing together. Getting coffee’s not as entertaining with other people.”

“Thank you, Eren. I have fun with you too. You’re a very passionate person and it motivates me to live life as freely as you do.”

An embarrassed chuckle escapes him, and he shrugs while keeping his hands on the wheel, “I try.”

The proximity of your elbow to his side feels too narrow to be friendly, but you chance inching a bit closer anyway, “You do.”

Another red light has him slowly braking to a pause, and he turns his chin to face you.

All you can hear is the soft rumble of the engine as Eren stares at you.

His eyes were his most complimented feature, but you don’t think anyone searched as hard for his thoughts in them as you did.

Stray umber strands of hair fall next to his eyes, and the angled grit of his jaw intensifies with every passing second. You wish he would do something, anything besides letting your mind wander and your stomach flutter.

The movement of his cupid’s bow as he finally talks forces your attention back onto Eren, “I wish you knew..how hard I really do try.”

You puzzle over his words for a moment. The rough echo of them is only interrupted by the next breath he takes, which is deep and expands the muscles of his chest until fluorescent light pools across the material of his shirt.

“Eren, the light.” You whisper, your voice sounding foreign even to you as you register the hushed words.

Eren blinks, and then you both startle at the car behind you honking their horn.

“Fuck, sorry.” He mumbles, averting his eyes and pressing forward.

The rest of the car ride is quiet, but you’re too busy calming the race of your thoughts and heart to notice if it’s awkward or not.

Once you recognize the road in front of your home, Eren drops you off and walks you to your door, where you wrap him in a hug that he returns just as tightly.

You set your mouth by his ear, “I know you’re trying.”

Although you remain unsure of what exactly he is trying to do, you know that if anyone is trying at all, it’s Eren.

At that, he relaxes completely in your arms, “I hope so.”

Darkness fades your vision as you close your eyes for as briefly as you can convince yourself to, appreciating his warmth and preparing yourself to be released from his embrace.

After a few more moments, you let go of Eren and offer him a shy wave.

“We’ll see each other again soon.”

Eren’s hands find their way into his pockets, and the boyish grin that’s driven you mad since you met him crosses his features, “See you soon, beautiful.”

_________________

Maybe liking each other was a lot for the both of you, but neither you or Eren had any plans of stopping.

_________________

End Notes:

thanks for requesting this!! it really inspired me and i wrote this faster than i normally write🥰 might be a bittt more emo than you wanted, but i couldn't help myself😭😭 appreciate you and hope you enjoyed <333

#eren jaegar #eren yaeger #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren oneshot #eren aot #attack on titan eren #eren jeager #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger imagine #eren imagines #eren scenarios #eren fluff #eren fic #eren angst #myfics

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willysnylander · 6 months ago

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as promised , i come bearing a word prompt !!! i would love if you could possible write something with lukedaws + ‘surprise’ please !! i think i would love you forever (somehow impossibly more than i already do😽🫶)

thanks so much for this, becca!! sorry it took me so long and that it’s kind of short, i started writing a different version of this and i wound up not liking it so i had to start over 😭. i hope you like it!, though! <3

The kiss comes as a total surprise, when it happens. Not an unwelcome one, certainly, considering all the less-than-platonic thoughts Luke has been secretly having about his teammate for months now, but definitely a surprise.

The two of them are sitting on the couch of Luke and Jack’s apartment, playing a few rounds of Chel and just generally hanging out. It’s just them in the apartment - Jack’s out grocery shopping. It was supposed to be Luke’s turn to do that, actually, but when he’d mentioned earlier that Dawson had texted him asking to hang out Jack said he would do it instead, an offer paired with a wink and an insistence that Luke should be able to spend time with his quote-unquote “future husband”.

Luke had very much appreciated his brother in that moment, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t thrown a pillow at Jack as the older Hughes brother had made his way out of the apartment.

Right now, though, Luke has just finished kicking Dawson’s ass for the third round in a row. As the game ends on the TV screen, Luke throws up his arms and lets out a triumphant crow, quickly followed by a laugh as Dawson groans and slumps dramatically back into the couch cushions.

“Dude,” Dawson whines. “I already know you’re good at this game, you don’t have to, like, humiliate me to prove it.”

Luke laughs again, shorter this time. “Please, you think that was me humiliating you? You should see me play against Jack or John sometime, that’s me humiliating someone.”

He sets his controller on the coffee table, preparing to take a little break and grab a drink from the kitchen, and when he turns over his shoulder to ask Dawson if he wants anything, the other boy is actually pouting. It’s not an expression Luke is used to seeing on his teammate at all, and it’s so silly and endearing all at once that he feels heat bloom in his chest and finds himself unsure whether to laugh or smile fondly.

“Still,” says Dawson, and it takes Luke a second to force his stupid crushing brain to focus on the words and not just the lips they’re coming out of, “you couldn’t’ve let me win once? Spare my poor, fragile ego?”

Luke does laugh now, tilting his head back slightly from the force of it. He closes his eyes, too, without really meaning to, and when he rights the position of his head and opens them again, Dawson is looking at him with a look in his eyes that he can’t exactly place.

Which is kind of weird. But Luke has already promised himself a while ago, when he first realized he actually had a crush on his teammate, that he was going to do his damnedest to act completely normally around Dawson at all times, and he might as well apply that to odd behaviour from Dawson as well. Besides, it isn’t like the unreadable look on Dawson’s face is the kind of look Luke hopes it is, as much as that sucks - he’s long since accepted that the other boy will never return his feelings and he’ll be stuck uselessly pining until he either finds someone else to like or the feelings go away on their own.

With all that in mind, Luke clears his throat a bit, trying to ignore the blush creeping onto his face because Dawson hasn’t stopped staring at him with that look in his eyes, and says as lightheartedly as possible, “C’mon, Merc, you know I don’t let anyone else win. You wanna beat me, you’ve gotta earn it.” He gently bumps Dawson’s knee with his, smiling as normally as he’s able while his cheeks slowly turn the color of a sunrise. “I’m gonna go grab a Gatorade before we play again, you want-”

He doesn’t get to finish his question. Because all of a sudden Dawson’s eyes have gone from unreadable to determined, and he’s sitting forward again, and then he’s leaning over and his lips, those lips that Luke has been dreaming about for longer than he really wants to admit, are on Luke’s, and just like that Luke is being kissed by the boy he’s just finished reminding himself he’ll never be able to have.

For a second or two, Luke’s body turns to ice, and he just sits there like an idiot, completely still. It isn’t until Dawson falters, seeming to fully realize what he’s doing and panic, and his mouth starts to pull away from Luke’s that Luke finally manages to kick himself out of shock and into action. He chases Dawson, pressing his lips firmly back onto the other boy’s, and this time it’s Dawson’s turn to briefly freeze before he starts responding.

And once he does start responding - Jesus, it’s the best kiss Luke’s ever had. Dawson, even though he’s only two years older and can’t have that much more experience, clearly knows what he’s doing, moving his lips near-perfectly in sync with Luke’s and giving just the right amount of gentle pressure. Luke finds his hands wandering up to tangle themselves in the older boy’s hair, and in return he feels one of Dawson’s hands come to rest on his thigh, acting as a brace for his teammate as Dawson pushes himself impossibly closer to him.

When they finally break apart for air, Luke feels like it’s been an eternity and a single instant all at once. They don’t go far from each other, faces still close enough that they’re panting the same air, their noses just barely brushing together. Dawson’s pupils are blown wide, his hair is messy where Luke still has his hands in it, and his lips are kiss-swollen in the same way Luke imagines his own must be. He’s never looked more attractive, and Luke can feel the heat that had spread through his chest earlier growing even further, becoming a raging inferno of something that feels like genuine love as Luke gazes at the beautiful boy he’s just finished kissing.

Still a bit out of breath, Dawson murmurs, “You’re so fucking good-looking when you laugh.”

So that was the look in his eyes, then, and the reason behind it. Luke knows, logically, that they should have an actual conversation now, that they should talk about how long they’ve both been feelings the feelings they clearly share despite how much Luke thought the opposite. They should be responsible young adults and discuss where they go from here, whether they’ll actually enter into a relationship and what that could look like. They should stop, take a moment, and come up with an actual plan.

But Luke’s never really been that good at planning. And despite everything, how much responsibility he already has that most people his age don’t even have to think about, he’s still a twenty-year-old with a beautiful boy in front of him - a boy he’s been fantasizing about kissing for months, who has just given him the best surprise of his life by making that fantasy come true and making it better than he could’ve dreamed.

So right now, Luke decides to wait until a little later to be responsible. Right now, he just smiles as Dawson, so wide he feels like it’s going to split his face, and closes the short gap between their lips.

taglist: @hughes-jack, @gayhughes, @square-opossums, @hiya-itsamber, @yoontwin (let me know if you want to be added or removed!!)

#my writing.#writing from requests.#becca <3 #ships — hughes number three and the toothless wonder.#lukedaws #luke x dawson #luke hughes x dawson mercer #dawson mercer x luke hughes #hockey rpf #nhl rpf #hockey fic #nhl fic

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bigbrainkatrina · 1 year ago

Text

Say The Name

This is a sequel to my fic, Check the Name. But can be read as a standalone. Sans Ron, Kim is building a new Team Possible. She’s already recruited Drakken, now she has her eyes on Shego.

"You want me to WHAT?"

Kim sighs, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest to give her some warmth under the dark of the night, and eyes Shego with heaping amounts of intention. She speaks in a level tone.

"I want you to become a full time member of Team Possible. You won't get paid for any of your efforts, but none of us are and that's okay, because we're doing the right thing and the people's compensation can be better spent elsewhere. I want to you fight with us, operating off of programs and services that are solely engineered through donations and the good will of others. I want you to stand besides me day-in and day-out, sacrifice your free time by always being on-call so that you can respond to every disaster that need our assistance."

Kim gulps. Talking about mission stuff? That's easy. But personal stuff? She looks into Shego's emerald eyes and briefly considers the thing she actually wants to say to this snarky woman, this — person who despite all the murder attempts is actually quite charming. This funny lady who loves to tease Kim and never goes that hard on her. This quote-unquote enemy who's taught her an entire Bachelor's degree in survival skills. This person who is — ugh.

Family.

Kim said it to Drakken, and he told her that he always saw her as a daughter. He's part of Team Possible now, and that was surprisingly easy. So why is this so hard? Kim's mouth opens for the full load of pathos but it catches in her throat. Kim sees Shego's cold demeanor and blinks. Coughs to play off the weird lapse and returns to the herospeak. "In short: I want to save the world with you, Shego."

Shego blinks and rubs her eyes as if she just woke up from a colossal sleep.

"Ugh, Kimmie. Rhetorical. Yawn."

Kim bites her lip. She accounted for this. Obviously, Shego wouldn't take it seriously, and now she's marching over to the wall of Dementor's fortress. "Shego, please. You know we're legit. If you want to make a difference this is it. We're the most effective group there is out there."

Kim bites her lip for a second time. Actually draws a little smear of blood. Ever since Ron took off for his full-time gig with Global Justice, she's been tongue tied. Because her best friend and life partner is too busy to remember a Skype date. She doesn't hold it against him, it just means she talks to people a whole lot less than she used to.

Shego twists her head back and arches an eyebrow so high that Kim's surprised it doesn't shoot off her face and right to the tippity top of the wall Shego's about to scale up. But then again, Shego has always held expert control over her emotions. Just because Kim can't help but give every thought and feeling voice by letting them crawl onto her face doesn't mean everyone does.

Shego twirls her grapple hook in widening circles. "Since when did you start talking like an army recruiter? If I were you, I'd lay off established mercs like me and check out your high school campus."

Shego lobs the hook high, high into the air and it just makes target, crashing into a lip of the stone wall. Shego pulls on the rope and the hook doesn't move an inch. She cackles and returns to Kim. Rests a hand to her hip. "Or is that too soon for you?"

"Making fun of my age?" Kim deadpans. "Isn't that a little dry for you?"

"Yep," Shego shrugs, casually beginning her climb. "Don't really care. See, I have a big, spicy paycheck waiting for me and I don't want to be distracted from the hot vaca I'm scrounging from it."

Kim's a little relieved Shego's not looking; lets her release that anger into that eyebrow flicker. Shego would notice that after all. Since both women are intimately aware of each other's physicalities — no, not like that. They just know what to look for in the other, how to gauge their feelings. And if Shego looked back, she'd see that Kim's pretty hurt and even though Shego doesn't actually like being a big jerk (Kim and Ron's theory) and she'd say something humiliating.

Y'know, to add insult to injury. Kim's been feeling down for a while, so much so that she can't even call it a secret anymore.

So Kim makes the first dig. "I'm sure Big Daddy Brotherson gives you a lot of benefits. But more often than not, you're taking out dirty politicians and businessmen."

Shego freezes, knees wedged sideways into her gut, hair falling past her shoulders and aligning perpendicular to the ground she's now twenty feet above. Shego hesitates, but snorts off the decision and proceeds to scale the stone wall.

"Shego — " Kim groans, voice getting farther and farther away. "You don't need to be a super-villain with plasma strength to pick someone off from miles away. Please."

That one gets her.

Shego stops and runs her feet up the wall like she's going up a half-pipe, swiveling 180° so she can fully see the red head. She grabs her long raven locks and pushes them aside. "Sure, Princess. I miss the good old days. But this stuff pays, and besides — I've already saved the world once. I think I've done my time."

Shego hands there for a moment, body arched in a position that's surely uncomfortable. Kim has seconds to collect herself before this conversation is officially over.

"Shego, don't you dare try to convince me that what you're doing is good. You know what happens when you ice the CEO to a fast food chain? His son whose name probably ends in a Jr. inherits it."

Shego's eyes darken, but her mouth curls high. "Ice, Princess? You afraid to say the word kill? Or are you just upset that your stinkin' BF is doing that all the time?"

Kim's cheeks sting and she looks away.

"See," Shego drawls. "You can't even stomach that. Think about what working with me would be like. That's why I'm saying no."

"I don't think that's why you're saying no."

Shego blinks. Kim steps forward, awfully defiant. There's another weird lapse. This is the part where Kim is supposed to explain why Shego is saying no. It'll be emotional, maybe some tears, and finally these two estranged women will reconcile.

Kim mouths something indistinct then scratches the back of her head. In a low voice, she says, "Ron's not part of the team anymore. It's just me on the field and you know how everyone's been picking up the slack since Lowardia. I'm good but not that good. I might — erm — die out there and — that's not going to stop me but — a little muscle would be good."

Shego momentarily softens. She's never seen Kimmie put herself down like this. Not her best look, and certainly not the girl she used to go toe to toe with on the reg.

Also — Ron's the super-powered Big Kahuna now, huh? Super weird. She's still processing that one. Like, where's Jenna Wortham and Wesley Morris when you need them?

Shego dismisses Kim with a wave. "Nah sorry. Not convinced. Anyways, I gotta go and take care of these mutant petunias or whatever Dementor is using to take over the world this — "

"Which incidentally is my evil take over the word scheme!" a gruff voice barks through Kim's earpiece. Kim claps a hand to her face and cringes from the blown out speakers.

"Drew — " Kim swears under her breath but it's no use, Drakken's in full swing now.

"How dare he use my strategy and my smartest most refined geniusest brilliance to — "

Shego blinks. Leans as far down as she can without dropping off the wall. "...Drakken?!"

"Oh," Drakken mutters from the end of his line. "H-hello Shego."

"Yup," Shego shakes her head and finally throws her body back into proper posture for climbing. "Forget it, Princess."

Kim hoped that by the end of this conversation, she could stop clenching but now — the clenching persists. She watches Shego throw herself over the fortress wall and vanish, taking the grapple line with her. Not that Kim doesn't have one on her, but ya know — message received.

She turns on her heel and looks out at the rolling waves way down below. Even as high up as she is, little drips of seawater pelt at her face.

"Now what?" Drakken stutters.

"Plan B. I'm busting in. Not using Shego's route obviously because that'd be lame," Kim paces around the stone wall and looks for a different — better — opening.. "Hey Drew?"

"Yes, Kimberly Ann?"

"Remind me to not let you ever throw anyone a surprise birthday party."

=KP=

Despite the doom and gloom gray of Dementor's fortress, all Kim can see once she hits the arena is bright, vibrant turquoise. Turns out Dementor's mutant army of petunias are actually quite deadly, moving so fast that the green vines, no matter how thin, blur Kim's entire scope of vision. Paired with Shego's plasma bolts, it's a wonder Kim can make out anything. She doesn't want to admit it, but she's a little unnerved by it all.

Every big leagues villain retired shortly after the Lowardian Invasion. It wasn't a secret that folks, ally and enemy alike, had been scared stiff by the newly polished form of their archfoe's sidekick. No one, not even Kim, expected that from him. She still feels kind of bad about that. About doubting him. But then she reminds herself, for her own confidence, that Ron didn't earn the Mystical Monkey Power; he stumbled into it.

Kim worked herself down to the bone to get to where she is, but people are telling her she's not good enough. It's not Ron's fault. It's just — nauseating.

Meanwhile, while Kim and Ron warred through the bric-a-brac, they polished their blades and prepared for the real deal. But soon Ron moved into the Top Security Clearance world of Global Justice and it became apparent to all the mooks and rapscallions like Dementor and Monkey Fist (yes, Monty's back from the dead, it's a whole thing) that Agent Stoppable's not actually gunning for them, leaving Kim to deal with their vastly improved ilk.

Heck, not even Kim knows where Ron is today. Half the time, if not more, he's not allowed to tell her. The past few weeks, the former Dynamic Duo has been testing out the long distance gambit, but just as they found their groove in regards to frequency of texts and Skypes, Ron got bumped up another promotion and threw the whole thing off. Now it's radio silence. Either she's too overwhelmed by the escalating difficulty of her missions to consider texting Ron or he's too busy to remember they had a Skype date.

Beep-beep-de-beep!

Speak of the Devil….

"Don't you ever silence that thing?" Drakken rasps through Kim's radio.

"Uh, well the whole point of call me, beep me is the beeping part," Kim snarks, pulling her phone from the satchel tied tight around her waist. "Unlike you Drak, the texts I get are actually important."

Drakken curses under his breath; asking Kimberly Ann to organize his inbox the other day had been a mistake. After hours of sorting and deleting, all she did was sigh extraneously and say, "Drew, you should really consider unsubscribing from some of these newsletters. Like NaNoWriMo was almost a year ago, you obviously have no intentions on reading these Writers' Tips."

But that's not fair! Sure, he only got six thousand words in last NaNoWriMo, but that doesn't mean he'll never finish It Was a Tuesday! Why just the other day he wrote an experimental chapter about the time he used flashcards to remember his evil plots! And Kimberly knew that! Because she proofread it!

Heck, she even likes his writing! She's — ahem — the only one who does…. aaaaanyways, oh how she gets under his skin! Sometimes she's even worse than Shego! Words hurt you know.

But back to that incessant beep beep-de-beep. Kim crooks her elbow under her chest so that she can look at her phone in the tight air duct.

Ron [6:54PM] Awwwww, seriously? he's back from the dead. that's bananas!

Ron [6:55PM] that's a joke, feel free to use that on him

Ron [6:55PM] ya know for a guy who mutated himself into a monkey you'd think he'd be chiller about monkey jokes

Kim rolls her eyes and stuffs the phone away. Kim would happily use a Ron joke on Monkey Fist, but the two of them never quite had the rapport for linguistic ballet.

Yet despite everything, Ron could probably march in and tick Monkey Fist off like any internet troll worth their salt. Kim wonders what kind of gags Ron would go for. There's the obvious monkey jokes, but also now the zombie gags. Seeing how the old coot's risen from the dead and everything. It was Amy's doing, but Monty ditched her fast and partnered up with Dementor. Their plan has some kind of synergy between evil plants and ancient Monkey Tomes or whatever. Kim never really knows. She just sees it and punches it.

With the crazy media coverage lately, it makes sense that Monkey Fist's resurrection flew under the table, but it really is too bad that Ron can't waltz over and check it out. Maybe Kim should do some verbal sparring with the Brit for Ron's sake.

Ugh. Kim's not even here for Monkey Fist. Shego's got him on lock after all. Kim has to remember that and keep her eyes on the prize. She thinks it over. Using Ron's little joke might actually work for a strategy on how to win Shego over. Shoot. She should text Ron back before she forgets — no, she'll text after she gets Monty's reaction. That way Ron will text her back a few hours later with an emoji. Or a stinkin' el-oh-el if she's lucky.

Kim sighs in a way that would even make Eeyore concerned, and kicks open the vent. She rolls out of the steel and almost immediately regrets diving in.

It's like entering a warzone. Exhausting to track from above, on ground level her heart threatens to thump its way out of her chest. Because it's not turquoise — it's green and blue. Separate. She can't quite see Monkey Fist from here but he's surely putting up a fight, throwing out blasts that rival Shego's. The beams shimmer like flames, dancing erratically. Neither light lets up, blasting into the next beam, etching a matrix of death all around the room.

Just as Kim's about to stick her landing, a beam of blue comes out from under her. She holds back a scream and twists up, firing a grapple line back into her hidey-hole air duct, line going taut fast. She swings up, narrowly avoiding the blue but instead finds her back running against a column of green fire from Shego. She screams, but manages to hold on tight, and releases another grapple line, and swings through a safety gap in the blaze.

Kim throttles between the blasts, spiraling in the air, peeking through every gap to find something — anything — she can grapple onto, but just as she finds a straight fall to the floor there's a terrible screech that gnaws at her eardrums. One of Dementors petunias snaps up at her, bulb bigger than Kim's entire body.

Right Evil mutant plants. She totally forgot.

White teeth as long as Kim's arm, tightly knit into ugly rows along the maw, snap at her, splattering acid into the air. Kim's not fast enough and one particularly jagged tooth snags her foot and whips her through the air.

Gravity wants to throttle Kim down into the monster's gullet, but she preserves all the strength she's got and keeps herself held tall and poised no matter where the monsters whips her. At the peak of its swing, she pops one foot up and back down, crashing a boot into a tooth, knocking it free. Acid sprays from the gap in the mouth and Kim falls, slipping into the mouth. She grabs two teeth and kicks both feet into teeth opposite her, limbs searing from the momentous effort. But her weight makes short work of the creature, and it tumbles on down to the floor.

Just before it hits stone, she rolls out of the bloom and narrowly avoids a stream of green fire that the monster falls into, promptly burning down to ash. Kim finds her bearings fast, wiping sweat from her forehead. Her head hurts more than it should and she decides she's probably poisoned. She quickly radios to Drakken, asking him to scan her vitals while she works. Another petunia lashes at her, but Kim's ahead of this one and grabs the roof and floor of its mouth, cracking her arms far apart to keep the mouth splayed open. She pushes hard, already short sleeves rolling into her shoulders. She raises her feet and dropkicks the horrid beastie in the mouth and it bends under her.

Kim hits the floor at a roll and finally catches sight of Shego and playfully waves to her. Shego's eyes widen because seriously? Kim what the heck. Or fuck. What the fuck is more Shego's speed.

Ever since the Lowardians, big guns got drawn and people, including Shego apparently, like to think that means Kim isn't up to par anymore.

Well, not quite. Check the name.

Kim snaps back into action, somersaulting back, just as another rogue petunia dives at her. But she's got the leverage to launch herself above him, and she grabs its wiry stem like she's at the gym, twirling a full 360° before coming back down with a stomp that's the equivalent of crushing someone's windpipe. It whimpers before falling fully slack.

Two more come. She leaps and throws her legs into a full split, cracking one of the creature's maws wide enough to keep her safe. Meanwhile, her arms grab onto one of the other creature's teeth, yanking down on it like Quasimodo does every morning in Paris.

The tooth snaps free and the creatures roars, tumbling to the ground. Kim slips the jagged thing under her arm and twists her body like a pretzel, grabbing the petunia holding her by its tooth and — CRACK!

The first petunia thumps off the floor, and Kim lands between the slain beasties, stabbing both through the heads, grinning at Shego like a mischievous kid might.

"Princess, hey, you need to — "

"Hold that thought!"

Kim leaps into the air again, twirling like a helicopter, the twin teeth whirling around her and catching yet another petunia in both sides of its gaping mouth. But Kim doesn't stop there. She keeps spinning and the teeth cleave right through the jaw, decapitating the monster. Kim hits the ground, coated in plant mucus, but she's not quite through yet.

"Five o'clock!" Kim shouts and Shego ducks, one of the teeth launching over her head like a javelin and nailing the final petunia in the face. It bursts into acid and splatters across the floor.

Kim brushes the hair from her eyes and shoots another winning grin at Shego. But that grin quickly becomes a grimace as Kim is suddenly thankful for all the fencing classes she took. Bolts of blue fly at her. Kim swings the tooth up and down, deflecting the bolts as they just graze her. But the blue is too fast for any human, even her, and after ten volleys one bops the tooth from her hands, knocking it into the air and yards behind her.

A fist as big as her head materializes in the air and goes for broke, angled just right to pop her skull open. But Kim's got something else in mind.

"Wow, it's really bananas that you're back from the dead, Monty."

The flaming fist stops right before her face. Quickly, the blue light coagulates into a tangible form before her. Monkey Fist sweeps a scoop-shaped thumb across his long nose and sneers at her. He's evolved a bit since she last saw him. Hair is a bit more wild, muscles a bit more trained, and his eyes empty blue fire from his sockets. He's flanked by a blue aura, but it's nowhere near as crisp and clean as Ron's.

"What — did — you — say?" Monkey Fist hisses.

Kim bites her lip and tries not to giggle out of anxiety. "I — said — it's — bananas — that — "

"OOOOOOOOOOOH!" Monkey Fist whistles like a train, big honkin' feet stamping against the ground like a child's. The fire fades and Kim can see the long sloped lines of his distorted face. "That makes me so mad!"

But before the gentleman can throw a rather uncordial tantrum, one of Shego's plasma bolts knocks him upside the head and blasts him across the width of the entire room and into a wall, where stone bricks avalanche onto him in heaps.

When the dust fades, Kim sees Shego staring at her with the coldest expression the mercenary's ever flashed, fists rolled so tight that they shake, wedged into her hips.

"Bananas?! That's the best you had? You just risked your life to say Wow Monkey Fist, it's really bananas that you're back from the dead?!"

Kim frowns and scoops her phone out, quickly showing the screen to the green woman. "Ron told me to say it. Speaking of…." She dives back into the text thread to fire off a —

Kim [6:58PM] Good one. That really got him going.

— before emerald fire surrounds Kim from all over, crafting a tunnel leading out to the exit, archways burning all the way out. Before Kim can jump to Shego's side, a wall blisters the floor between them and separates the two.

"Out! Now!" Shego screams, flames so dense Kim can't even see her.

"Huh? No way!" Kim pouts. "This is my turf as much as it is yours!"

"No it's not! This is my gig, like I get a bounty for stopping them! You don't so stay out of it!"

Kim shuts her eyes and forces it from throat even though she really does not want to air this.

"Shego, stop yelling at me, please. Why can't we just be friends?"

That hangs in the air for a little longer than either is comfortable with. Kim's cheeks burn red and she continues, "Shego, I'm serious — I like you. Like really, really like you. You're funny and tough and smart and I always had fun sparring with you and I think it'd be good for the two of us if we started working together."

An imprint of Shego's body sinks into the wall, just enough for the grimace to set itself nice and strong. Though the neon light does make Kim's eyes water, so she tries not to look for too long.

"We were not sparring," Shego grunts. "Maybe you were — you've never been that responsible. You're lucky Doc's so dense or maybe we would have taken over the world."

The outline of the mouth moves but it's hard to say in which direction; but it's okay. You don't need nonverbal cues from Shego to get where she's at.

The flames flare towards the tunnel and Kim has to firmly plant her boots down to not be swayed. But she's bleeding from the toes because of the planets and that poison is doing god knows what to her body. She can't hold on much longer.

"I wouldn't resist if I were you," Shego taunts. "Could easily break a bone trying for the immovable object gambit."

"You wouldn't," Kim sneers. "They were spars. You've never tried to hurt me. But other people do. Every day. And if you don't want to be my friend, fine. But still join up. Some back-up would be great, or else Monty might whip me into a Kimmie Frappé."

Kim slips. One heel flies up and the other follows. She flails her arms but it's no good. She gets one last look at Shego before being throttled.

"Puh-lease, Princess. You don't need little ol' me, do you? I thought you could do anything!"

She's airborne and not even sure if Shego can hear her, and it's hard to talk with the wind blasting down her throat, choking her. But she says something because it's important. It comes out as a croak and Shego does hear it, two flares arch up just slightly at the words:

"You know that's not true anymore."

A bellow of air jams its way down her throat and another swing nails her in the nut. She flies back and somehow miraculously lands on her feet, just outside the fortress. Not from any effort of her own. She cracks her head up and watches the flames give way to ash and frowns. Shego is — powerful. It's a little unnerving.

Why is everyone just now deciding that they can outclass her?

Kim blinks back something that might be tears and grinds her knuckle against the dirt. "Dammit."

"Sorry to eavesdrop, but you know I can't resist the hot goss," Drakken says stoically through the earpiece. "You need a different approach, pathos won't work on Shego. Or at least — erm — words. Good at using them, not so much listening."

Kim finds the embarrassing tears and crushes them with the back of her glove, forearm rising to wipe off the sweat and goop. "I can do this right?"

"What? Recruit Shego or defeat the evil plant army that's MY idea and so poorly implemented by Demenz and —"

"Drew. Focus."

"Mm."

"I'm talking about Shego. Is it worth trying? I think I got poisoned earlier and I don't know if it's a good idea for me to…."

"You are poisoned. I didn't want to tell you because you were working, but…."

Kim's posture droops. "Great."

"Kimberly Ann, I hate to be a Negative Nancy but this is poor strategy. You're not going to impress Shego by beating people up. Nor will you words. Maybe, if you can get back in there before she — erm — after whatever it is that she does to her 'targets' — perhaps I can Dr. Phil for you two."

Kim raises an eyebrow. "Dr. Phil?"

"Don't tell me you don't know Dr. Phil!"

"Uh — tell me you don't still watch cable television."

"What? People don't watch — what do they watch then?"

"It's streaming platforms all the way, Doctor D."

=KP=

The next scene is just as much of a warzone as the left, but this time Kim's poisoned.

No blue lights this time at least, just plants. But more plants than ever. Vines and stems everywhere, wriggling and writhing with the occasional flash of plasma bleeding through. Kim can hear Dementor yucking up a storm about — something. She's not sure what could possibly be funny given that Shego is schooling his army of plants. Like yes, she's outnumbered but — oooooooh.

It's because resistance is futile. They're not just plants, they're infinite. Like a hydra. Whatever Dementor's doomsday machine is probably has the ability to respawn them lickity split. But Shego's more crash crash boom than nuance. She probably doesn't connect Dementor's laughter to anything other than a personality defect of his. That being he is very annoying, which is true.

Kim narrows her eyes and sees a massive, whirring machine in the back of the throne room. The stones have been stripped from the floor, giving the gadget ample amount of dirt and soil to work with, and if Kim squints, she can see small hints of green tailing under the metal panels. So that's her target.

No matter how depressed the idea makes her, she has to suck it up. Because she is Kim Possible and she actually can do anything. Long as she doesn't overthink things. So she strains her cheeks and forces that grin. It sort of helps. Just a tad.

Ron would want her to smile. She would too.

There's a creak from below and Kim peers down to see the furry head of Monkey Fist passively entering the room. He stands before the whirring mass of green and takes in a deep breath. Big fists start to glow blue and from where Shego's standing, there's no way she can see him. Too much overlap of color.

Meaning like it or not, it's showtime. Kim has to save Shego.

Kim drops down from above, ramming her hands into the back of Monkey Fist's neck, cracking his chin deep into his chest. While he hunches over, she rolls off his back and lands in a sprawled out Look at me! kind of position.

It's a move that yadda yadda won the cheerleaders oy old jokes, yeah?

"KIM POSSIBLE!" Monkey Fist shrieks with such volume that his jowls are set a-quiverin'. He pounds his chest and launches at her. His fists cut through the air, leaving behind burning trails of blue that linger for a few extra seconds before dissipating. Kim backsteps fast, just managing to avoid each swing. She's not stressed because she's smiling, and that jubiliance makes it all look easy.

"Quit monkeying around, Monty," Kim snarks. "I don't have all day."

Monkey Fist's forehead throbs with rage and it's a wonder he was ever even capable of tolerating Ron's loudmouth, considering how bad Kim's jokes are. Get a real punny buy in the room and Monkey Fist would probably have a heart attack. But it's 'kay, Kim'll settle for the undying rage. His fists pick up the pace and while the blue trails don't linger in the air as long now, the swaths of power glow darker.

Kim somersaults back to avoid one particular devastating swing, legs almost snapping out from under her upon landing. She opens her mouth for some other joke, she's actually not quite sure what she'll say yet and it ultimately doesn't matter because Monkey Fist's knuckle cleaves into her jaw. Her whole body shoots up like the bell in a strongman game, another fist coming from above, fist splintering into her eye.

She falls back, now brandishing an impressive shiner. "Nice trick," she spits a gob of blood to the floor. "But I don't think any of the audience members at the circus would laugh at it."

"Eh, that one's a stretch, methinks," Monkey Fist chortles, grabbing her by the scruff of the tunic and lifting her into the air. Things slow down, mostly from Shego's now divided attention; yes, she noticed. She stands as still as a statue, glowing hands only occasionally flying out to smack a rogue plant away.

"You won't harm another hair on her head, Monty," Shego growls.

"Ha, as the youth say: As if," Monkey Fist laughs and though one of his hands is still free, it's an invisible one that throttles by at the throat, knocking her whole body into the air. Her body weighs against the neck, stretching the tendons farther than they should ever go, bone preparing itself to crack. "You'll do nothing to me you welp."

Kim feels the blood rush to her head, but another crack! and the invisible hand whips her to the ground. She hits the ground. Hard. Rolls several feet, shoulder smashing against her collarbone.

Monkey Fist's big square teeth grind against each other. "Nobody makes a fool out of me."

Kim doesn't need to look to know that she's standing between Monty and the doomsday machine. All she needs is to let the show go on. She cranes her neck up even though doing so causes blistering pain. "Don't you mean make a monkey out of me?"

Kim doesn't even get to appreciate the villain's resulting beet red face because an all-consuming blast of blue masks everything. But she does feel a burning in each and every one of her joints, body shooting high into the air and arching into a spiral. She flies far and just as the white floor rushes up to crash into her nose — she feels something tight squeeze into her, body accordioning into itself from whiplash.

Shego slides a hand to the small of Kim's back and leans her up from the teeter totter angle and their noses briefly brush against each other before Kim gently falls onto the floor. A dome of green fire materializes around them, the burning embers overtaking what sounds like an argument rumbling between the two partnered villains —

"Monty, you almost scorched mein evil plant army! Careful!"

"But — but — she called me a monkey!"

— but no more after that, too much going on, like she's in a different room. "These powers are kinda new," Kim drawls.

Shego rolls her eyes. "It's not, I just didn't need to tap into this kind of power back in the old days. Now everyone's going nuts and — "

"You mean going ape," Kim sits back up. "I — "

"No, you're benched, Possible," Shego growls, eyes lingering on Kim's bruised eye longer than usual. "I cannot fight delusional powerhouses like these fools when I have to keep one eye on you to make sure you don't get clobbered. You're out of your league. Go back to babysitting, I don't know what else to tell you."

Kim tries to protest, but the words sputter out and don't mean anything. Not even worth transcribing.

"You are dying, Kim," Shego says without glancing over her shoulder. "We're never going to be friends. So give up. Move on. You're a great kid but — show's over. I'm not burying you."

Kim is too stunned for words, and squints away more tears when Shego dashes off right quick, passing through the flames like it's nothing. Kim's outstretched hand gently closes in on itself the arm retracts back to her torso. A dramatic gesture maybe intended to make her sudden loneliness feel a bit more valid, but instead she just feels feeble. But Kim is not feeble. She's anything but feeble, and she needs to get back in the ring ASAP.

Even if it kills her. But it won't.

With no time to waste, Kim crosses her fingers that Shego isn't actually trying that much harder, and rolls forward. The flames lick her from all over and — oh, so that's what a ten on the pain scale looks like. This is worse than Monty's magic, but is torture, literal torture. She can't think straight, can't process anything else. Her ears ring and when the cold air of the castle room crosses through her, she vaguely sees a yellow blob. It's — keening? Scared — eyes dilated to the extreme, uvula flying like a pendulum.

The green flames pass in front of her and the white hot numbness returns — she kicks Dementor upside the head and conks him out, throwing her body to the ground and rolling against the floor. It takes longer than she'd like but it does the work and kills the fire.

She checks on Shego, cringing and screaming from the pain bubbling all over, and finds Shego going toe-to-toe with Monkey Fist, while also dealing with — no — fending off — the plant monstrosities. Against either party, she'd fare fine, but these are two titans to reckon with. Kim checks the machine puppet mastering the whole plant army and it's definitely too big and too complicated to take out — unless….unless she turns back to Monkey Fist and cups her hands to her mouth and shouts —

"Hey Monty!"

Monkey Fist blinks and he lazily sucker punches Shego to the ground, briefly smiling at the blue light crackling between each of his hairy digits. When he looks up though, he is immediately flabbergasted. "KIM POSSIBLE?!"

"Geez Monty, are you new to this?" Shego rubs the golf-ball sized bump on her head. "Coming back from the dead is kind of her whole bag."

There's a bit of a sneer in that and Kim shrinks a little bit at Shego's glowering, but the green woman is quickly overcome by a renewed army of plants that tear out from the floor beneath her, shoving away the brick and mortar, to drag her deep into the soil. Monkey Fist laughs through his nose and stomps across the hall to Kim.

Kim could easily tick him off all the way from over here, but she's already kind of learned her lesson that maybe getting him to chipshot this isn't such a grand idea. Close-range all the way if we're talking Mystical Monkey Mayhem.

So Kim motions for him to come closer and throws on the appearance of a shout, but really it's a wide-mouthed whisper.

"Do you have any nieces?"

Monkey Fist blinks. "What? Erm. I — " he draws closer. "I didn't quite get that."

"Do you have any nieces?"

He blinks again and lifts a paw to his freakishly large ear, letting it guide him across the floor. "Kim Possible, please speak up. We are in the middle of battle, after all."

She repeats it. But quieter. "Do you have any nieces?"

He shakes his head. "Is this some sort of bit?" He growls and jumps onto all fours, prancing right on up to her, lifting himself back to his full height with fists wedged against his hips. "I am not in the mood for a bit."

"Not a bit," she shrugs, stepping backwards. He doesn't consciously think to follow her, but he does it anyways. "I was asking if you have any nieces."

"Hrm," Monkey Fist scratches his square chin. "Not by blood — though I suppose Bates had a kid a few years back, I suppose I could count their kin as my nephew."

Kim nods, and while she doesn't think her joke is actually that funny, she smiles so wide it hurts. Especially considering the pain. But this is what Kim Possible does. This is how she saves the world. She chuckles between words like a lovable stand-up. "Is your kin by chance — a monkey?"

"What?" Monkey Fist drapes a hand over his head to better itch his forehead. "I don't — understand — monkey?"

"Why you'd be a monkey's uncle then!"

If only there were a little monkey sidekick there to smash some cymbals together, that'd be great. But the joke lands anyways and Monkey Fist goes so red this time his aura actually twists into a sickly violet.

"OOOOOOOOOH!" he screams and lunges at her, waves of power emanating from his fists; this is strength he doesn't even know. Otherwise he wouldn't be getting so up close and personal about this. But his fists lash out like an excited kid playing whack-a-mole and it sets Kim at a fast enough pace that's she actually a little worried about running backwards so quickly.

One particularly devastating kick flies up like Charlie Brown screwing up and eating dirt instead of football, and Kim has to somersault back to avoid it. She lands on top of the doomsday machine with all four limbs splayed out, taking on the sort of stance that's more Ron's scene. Monkey Fist's kick lodges itself directly into the metal and sparks fly.

Kim laughs and quickly kicks off her boots, letting her bare feet hook toes around loose nuts and bolts to better hold her balance. She then looks straight down at Monkey Fist and giggles, "Well look at that! Monkey see, monkey do, huh?"

Monkey Fist screams and flips upwards, somersaulting up the metal after her. She flips back, landing on top of the machine just as Monkey Fist shoots over her, momentarily gripping the bricks in the wall so that he can better direct a dropkick onto her person. But no magical aura this time, just pure monkey.

Kim blanks.

She wants to make a cheerleading joke because those are honestly some stellar flips — and she's been thinking of replacing some people on Harvard's cheer team (yes, two months in and she's already captain). But she knows she should stick to monkey gags and then Monkey Fist's two bare feet slam her in the chest, big and wide enough to dig into her whole form and she falls clean off the machine and hits the ground.

Before she can even get up, Monkey Fist is before her. He lifts her by the front of her tunic and smashes her body up against the machine and flashes a smirk so gnarled that it fully exposes one of his deadly canines. "You thought you could fool me, Kim Possible?! Ha! You act as if I am a rank amateur! Perhaps if you were my hated arch-foe, Ron Stoppable, you'd be more clever with your jokes but I, I am an educated man who comes with wealth, prestige, and a Master's in Primatology from Oxford! You will never be smarter than me, nor will you ever be stronger."

Monkey Fist gives her the once over. Bleeding foot, black eyes, scratched up all over, crazy burns….but not quite enough for his tastes so he punches her in the face, almost hard enough to knock her loose, but his grip is too tight for that.

"Looks like I win!" he chortles.

Kim tries as hard as she can to resist the burn in her neck and looks up, though it appears like her head's balancing on a slinky. "What's your damage with Ron, Monty? It's like he's a chimp on your shoulder."

Monkey Fist blinks and grinds Kim deeper into the metal. "The boy is not a chip on my shoulder — for I am the all-powerful…."

"Ah," Kim crawls, sliding her hands up against her face. "Monkey see no pun, monkey hear no pun…."

"Wh-what?" Monkey Fist sputters. "Pun — what?"

Kim's face falls. "Hello? Chimp on your shoulder?"

Monkey Fist blinks. Ties together a few stray thoughts and screams at the top of his lungs, darting in for the kill but Kim's legs roll up into his stomach and swing up and over, smashing him against the machine. She hits the ground first and he stumbles after her, sparks beginning to spiral around him.

"You think you'll get me to destroy my own machine, Possible? Don't be ridiculous."

Monkey Fist draws closer. Kim checks for Shego to make sure she's hanging in there — and she's not. There's just too many monsters for her take on at once. Maybe she's still thrashing, but it's a dogpile to overcome.

Kim crouches down, mostly from her draining energy, and glares ahead. "Monty, do you know where Ron Stoppable is?"

Monkey Fist snorts, so Kim fills in the blanks. "He's taking down terrorists of whom you don't even know, of whom I don't even know, because my security clearance isn't that high. See, Ron only takes on the A-Level."

"Tsch," he flashes his canines again. "I am a solid A. They'll all see that soon."

Kim steadily backs away, bare heel sliding against the rim of stone. She stays there and Monkey Fist's big feet steadily sink into the soil, the sparks still alive. His whole frame quavers with raw power and she grins.

"No, they won't. Because you're B-Level. These guys Ron takes out? They're serious. They're organized. They don't throw temper tantrums at bad jokes."

Something in Monkey Fist stifles and she's knows it's getting to him. If even just a little. But this isn't enough so she keeps pushing.

"Well," he leans in as if balancing on a cane. "I have superpowers. Surely, that bumps me up. I'm just — insecure — is all."

"Mm," she bites her lip and widens her tance. Any second he might blast her. But he's not mature enough for that. "Yeah, it's the only thing keeping you from the D-List. You have powers. I do too. It's why I'm a B-Lister."

"You," he snorts. "You have powers?"

"Yes, it's called never giving up."

"I don't think that constitutes for much," the sparks redirect around him, slowly angling themselves to rip from his muscles where they have a better vantage point to obliterate the teenager. "I hit you one more time and you're out for good, Kim Possible. So choose your next words wisely."

"Okay — a promise then. I'm not gonna lay a finger on you and still take you out. You'll go to jail but don't worry Monty: I'm B-Squad, I don't stand a chance against you. So we won't fight, but you will lose, and when they haul you off, you're going to look me in the eye and despite all the power you've smacked me with, I'm going to smile."

"Oh," he mock shudders. "I'll make sure you don't smile."

"Tsch." Kim tries not to ler her eyes linger on the sparks licking the soil. She tries to brace herself for something incredibly painful. "You know I heard that monkeys can get time shaved off their sentences if they volunteer to be shot into space."

Monkey Fist roars (predictable) and the sparks flare up, slicing into the soil and with that — every single root protruding from the machine, all burned off in one fell swoop. Kim hears the terrible, inhuman death calls disturb and splinter her ears, each bulb crashing to the ground like a fallen tree. But the sparks swirl together and rush at Kim in a haze and even in her most peak physical condition — no mortal can withstand that.

But she can yadda yadda do anything whatever. You get it.

The blue light cascades at her and Monkey Fist cackles with laughter — that is until his sparks not only kill the plants, but travel up the stems like dynamite fuses, all the way back to the machine they spawned from and — well — ka-boom. An earth shattering ka-boom.

The machine blasts apart and the resulting explosion nails Monkey Fist in the back.

So it's the two of them that go soaring, one after the other. Kim, scorched to a crisp, hits the floor first. Monkey Fist lands besides her and despite all the Mystical Monkey Power resting in him, Kim is the one that's still conscious.

She can't hear a damned thing, but there's a white shadow with triangular dimensions hovering above her face, chastising her over….something obvious probably. Their voice is harsh but it's the touch that betrays them, the way her finger so gently scoops Kim's face upwards. Twin green lights plume in the air and Kim realizes that it's Shego.

"Hi," Kim rasps.

"Kimmie…" Shego stutters. She must have just said a lot and Kim almost feels sorry she missed it, but that intense Kimmie kinda collectivizes it all together pretty well.

"I know," Kim coughs. "But now you know you don't have to worry about me on the field."

Kim's limp wrist doesn't support that claim, nor her watering eyes. "But you don't really care about that right? You trust me enough. You're just scared of being my friend, right?"

It catches in Kim's throat when Shego lifts Kim up and slings her chin over her shoulder, face burying deep into Kim's shoulder.

"I'm not scared," Shego mutters, her voice like crystals. "I don't know how I feel."

Kim looks at her very seriously. "Shego — I'm sorry I was mean about you being a hit-man now. But you don't have to do that work. I don't know what damage you carry and you don't have to tell me but I want you to take this seriously. Please. Please please please. Work with me, Drakken, and Wade. We're not just going to save the world, we're going to have fun."

Shego's jaw lowers because she's obviously not used to someone asking her that. It dangles long before she finds something typical of her personality to use as a retort, but it's just not there, so she wipes her eyes. "I can't believe you committed that hard to the monkey bit. Honestly though, you peaked really early in. Like seriously Princess, it's called a tight-five for a second."

Kim laughs way harder than she should and it's embarrassing, but it's okay because it's been one of those missions.

A man in a blue coat click-clacks into the battlefield, notebook in hand. Green fire erupts in Shego's eyes and she shoves Kimie off. "What do you want, Doc?!"

"Oh, I," Drakken bites his lip and checks the room. "Good — good job here. Erm. I'm going to Dr. Phil for you two so you can get through this conundrum."

"Ew, Doc. Dr. Phil?" Shego raises an eyebrow.

Kim whispers in Shego's ear. "Drakken doesn't know about streaming platforms."

Shego's eyebrow goes even higher. "Not even Netflix?"

Drakken's dry lips find themselves suddenly incapable. He just stands there.

"Also read the room, Drew," Kim coughed. "Me and Shego made up. She's part of the team, and tonight we're gonna introduce you to online serialized television!"

"But I — "

"Do you have an account?" Shego asks Kim seriously, who shakes her head in response. "Well, since we're doing you a solid, Doctor D, you'll be paying the subscription fees."

"Sub-subscription?"

Kim grins. "Monthly."

He looks between the two of them. "Is it too late for me to change my vote to No, let's not invite Shego?"

Kim and Shego say it together. "Objection sustained."

#kim possbile fanfic #kim & drakken #kim & shego #monkey fist #professor dementor #kim shego and drakken friendfic #i used to have a reader who kept comparing my version of kim to his ex wife #and he really hated this fic I guess so it's probably really good

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c4rdsharp · 2 years ago

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GRAHAM SPECTER. ( @closedcoffins )

“What? Hey, what? You’re telling me I don’t have the market cornered if I own the corners? What kind of sick and messed-up world is this?!”

That part of the equation is naturally what he focuses on first, because Graham obviously knows dogs and cats can’t just stand up and talk. He’d been talking out of a frenzy of speech—not everything someone says has to make sense, or at least that’s the philosophy Graham sometimes employs. When he’s not bemoaning his own inability to make sense, that is.

“Hey, seriously, why would you let me carry on about cornering the market like that if I haven’t even cornered it? I only have those four businesses. Except, actually, I don’t even have those four businesses! That’s right; what I told you just now was a conjecture based on a thought I had, but… You’re telling me my thought was totally wrong? Does that mean I was leading you astray? What kind of friend AM I that I would just lead a friend of mine astray like that?!?”

Switching gears completely on his lament, Graham lets his head sink down until it rests against the wood, arms splayed carelessly over the surface as well.

“Since you already knew, I guess there’s no harm done… But in that case, you really hurt me by telling me I was wrong, there, because now I’ll carry this guilt with me for the rest of my life. Maybe ignorance really is bliss. I’ve heard people say that before, but I think it’s true. Ignorance is bliss. You knew I was wrong, and I didn’t know I was wrong; now that I know I was wrong, I feel bad. It’s all beginning to make sense to me. Yeah… Yeah, I’d rather live in ignorance. Knowing too much is a miserable thing…”

Suddenly and without warning, Graham’s head shoots up.

“Only, what if I’d told my little story to someone who didn’t know? Hang on, did you really save me from the fate of ACTUALLY lying to a friend?!”

“ . . . you may interpret my actions as such, yes. “

Much like anything else with Graham, there was a lot to unpack within his semi - long, deranged monologues. He constantly bounced back and forth between topics, often with various errors or misinterpretations, and Luck was never sure where to start. It was a whirlwind of speech, a hurricane going 150 miles per hour. If you weren’t careful, the wind could knock you over and push you around. Now that he thought about it, listening to Graham speak was not too dissimilar from the sensation of being trampled . . . if he could extrapolate what that sort of feeling might entail, anyway.

Of course, the best course of action to move this conversation along was to answer the last thing he said first, then redirect to where Luck wanted to aim. He had to be careful, though, or else he might set off another tangent.

i don’t think it particularly matters, he considered, watching his comrade pick himself up from the countertop, he’ll go off on another tangent anyway. what’s the point of evading a landmine when the entire ground is packed with dynamite?

Luck didn’t really mind Graham’s inane ramblings ; compared to most people who have walked into the Coraggioso, he was . . . rather tame. So long as no one was itching to start a fight, but Graham knew better than to get into scuffles with any of the Gandor men on the property and had been at the other end of Luck’s visceral ire once before. Hopefully, he’d have learned his lesson . . . all the same, he wasn’t that volatile & it never went beyond that of a fight. Between this and attempted murders, Luck preferred the former. At the very least, Luck could correct the errors made, not the injury on his men or pedestrians.

“ however, if truth be told, even if this were not the case and you had quote - unquote 'lied' to me . . . well, it wouldn’t really be a lie. yes, it would be a factual error, incorrect, even false, but not a lie. lying implies an intent to mislead – your actions, or rather your words, indicate to me that you had no real desire to lead me astray. you had thought your knowledge was sound, and went along on a hypothetical. your words, as incorrect as they may have been, were borne from authentic sentiment. as such, i would not personally accuse you of falsehood. “

There was no real comfort in what Luck had to say ; he wasn’t trying to be comforting, although Graham may perceive it that way. Rather, he thought Graham’s emotional harangue grew too far from the point of objectivity. Not that Graham has ever really tried to be objective when he went on tangents, but it didn’t really sit right with Luck to call this some sort of lie. Ignorance, yes, but a lie? That was different. Regardless of Graham’s own views, words did have meaning.

“ and, there is nothing to be ashamed of having been corrected. this is how one learns, after all ; if you were completely free of error, you would truly gain nothing from experience. rather than thinking yourself foolish for having been ignorant, consider yourself to have gotten smarter from this exchange. after all, you did learn something, didn’t you? “

. . . well, perhaps he wasn’t so cold as to not give Graham something.

#( in character. ) nemo me impune lacessit #( thread. ) graham specter / closedcoffins ; 001 #( main. ) if there was any difference at all it was just one thing: they were villains.#// so many of our threads are from old legacy posts jvdbkvdjsbk #// goddamn

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warnerswilsons · 2 months ago

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Raccoon Problem (Whumptober 2024)

I'm doing Whumptober this year! I won't be doing every prompt, and they won't be in order but I figured I'd start with some Schmookie, and what better way to start than by getting in the Halloween Spirit?

The prompts for this oneshot are numbers 12 (starvation), 19 (blood trail) and 20 (emotional angst). More details below.

Content Warnings: Blood, Referenced Starvation, animal death, animal carcasses, Bruises Also, I'm using he/she/they/it pronouns for Schmitty in this chapter. I just think they all fit!

It was starting to get concerningly late. Cookie tapped his foot and leaned against the counter as his eyes wandered from the front window to the back door leading out of the kitchen. Sure, he didn’t expect Schmitty to get home exactly on the dot, but three hours later than planned did seem to be a bit worrying. The Fibbage host opened his phone to try and send his partner yet another call, hoping he’d actually pick up this time. If this fifth call went to voicemail, Cookie was ready to go through every single mutual friend and co-worker the two of them shared until he actually got somewhere.

Then he heard something outside, way past loud enough to reach Cookie through the window. Though the Fakin’ It host didn’t dare look, he could make out quick, shrill hissing and snarling, coming from multiple sources. He tip-toed to the door, letting his back slide against the wall. While Cookie very much did not want to alert this thing of his presence, his mind had started playing the utmost worst-case scenario, and he didn’t know who else would put a stop to it. He reached the door just as the screeching and growling died down and reached for the doorknob, but whatever was just outside beat him to it.

Cookie couldn’t help but gasp when he saw Schmitty standing in the doorway. His eyes were glassy, and a dazed, disoriented expression was plastered on their face. That would’ve been the most concerning thing for Cookie, if not for the fact that Schmitty was covered in blood, most of which stained his right hand, and fingernails that were eerily reminiscent of Sabretooth.

“Schmitty, what the fuck-”

“Raccoon problem outside.” Schmitty jerked a thumb back towards the front door, their voice sounding as cloudy as she looked. “Took care of it.”

“Yeah, really helpful.” Cookie crossed his arms. He’d have to press for an explanation about the quote-unquote ‘raccoon problem’ later. “And by the way, where the fuck were you?! You said you’d be back at half past three hours ago!”

“Got caught up in something.” Schmitty shrugged and headed towards its room. Unfortunately for the Quiplash host, Cookie was faster.

“Look, that’s not gonna fly right now.” The Fibbage host rolled his eyes, making the regrettable decision of grabbing his partner’s shoulders. “You disappear for hours, don’t answer your phone at all, come home looking like you fought the X-Men, and explain it all with some bullshit answer that ‘you got caught up?!’”

Schmitty immediately grasped Cookie’s wrists and narrowed his eyes. For the first time that night, Cookie could see clarity in them. “Look, I’ve had a shit night, and right now, I’d love nothing more than to just go to bed and not have to deal with this right now.” While Cookie kept his gaze fixed on Schmitty’s eyes, he could see red smudges on his wrists as Schmitty unknowingly tightened his grip. The Fakin’ It host squinted as he continued to stare at the other’s face, almost certain that their canines had gotten sharper and more fang-like. It was probably nothing more than the lightheadedness he was beginning to feel.

“Jeez, Schmitty! You could’ve just started with that!” Cookie lifted up his hands and tried to remove them from the other’s grip. “God, that’s really gonna leave a mark.” The comment must’ve been loud enough for Schmitty to hear, since he immediately released its grip on Cookie’s arms.

“Sorry,” Schmitty muttered through gritted teeth.

“Just, don’t. You’re fine.” Cookie paused, letting out a sigh. “Well, obviously, you’re not fine , you just…you know what I mean.” Cookie pressed a thumb onto a now black and blue wrist, glancing down at his hands. “Let’s just table this for now, and talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

“Fine.”

Without saying another word, Schmitty started to head off towards their shared room. Cookie let his eyes follow his partner, eventually noticing the blood still dripping from his fingers. As he shifted his gaze to the floor, he noticed a line of crimson trailing across the floor, and most likely well past the front door. The Fibbage host let out a long sigh as he went to treat the bruises on his arms. Hopefully, Schmitty would finally tell him what had happened that night come morning, but in this moment, he just wanted to tend to his wounds and go to bed. He could worry about what that discussion would be like-and the concerningly long trail of blood-tomorrow.

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

Cookie woke up relatively early the next morning, and immediately could sense that something felt different. For one thing, he found himself sprawled at the center of the bed, the mattress feeling wider than usual. As he continued to wake up, he noticed why. Schmitty’s side of the bed was completely empty, and felt almost cold to the touch.

Huh. Maybe he got up a while ago . Cookie pushed himself out of bed to see if his assumption was true. As the Fakin’ It host made his way into the hall, he heard snoring, the sound getting louder and louder as he got closer. Once he reached the living room, he found Schmitty, fast asleep on the couch, with all the blinds closed. Cookie let out a sigh, thinking about how cute his partner looked, before going to open one of the blinds. It was midmorning, after all. Cookie hadn’t even opened the blind an inch before he saw Schmitty physically launch himself off of the couch and scurry out of the room. Cookie let the curtain drop out of his hand as he heard distant snoring resume once again. He sat down on the couch, and typed out a list of every questionable thing Schmitty had done in the past several hours. He quickly copied the list, and opened a text message. He quickly typed out some context above the message.

Cookie; 09:42: I know you’re into monsters and shit. Schmitty’s been acting weird, and i dont know why. Said weird shit below.

It barely took a minute to get a response.

Laios; 09:43 : Let me check and I’ll get back to you!

Cookie simply sent back an ‘okay’ sign and leaned into the back of the couch. Hopefully he’d get some explanation soon.

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

It wasn’t for another number of hours until Cookie saw Schmitty again. The Fibbage host was quite literally just about to dig into a sandwich, when Schmitty trudged out, picking up speed as she noticed the fridge.

“Oh thank god! You’re finally up!” Sadly, Cookie’s comment went unheard as the Quiplash host opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of ranch dressing. It didn’t even bother to close the door before unscrewing the cap and chugged the entire fucking bottle.

“Um, what the fuck?!”

Schmitty didn’t even register their boyfriend’s comment. They just dropped the bottle on the floor, and turned around as if something caught his ear. Cookie went to follow Schmitty out the front door when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Immediately, he whipped it out and tried to skim through the notification, his eyes not picking up anything else aside from ‘skinwalker’. While Cookie hoped that Laios was wrong, he still felt like he had to at least have something in case he needed to defend himself. With that, Cookie made his way out to the front porch, and what he saw in his lawn didn’t make him any less concerned in the slightest.

There was Schmitty, standing on the porch, next to a tree, with what looked like a shriveled bird in his hand, and blood running down his fingers. In fact, their hand was quite literally going through the bird. Cookie shuddered as he looked away, only to be met with something resembling a racoon carcass with a hole through its torso. Well, at least he finally knew what the ‘racoon problem’ was. Kind of. Cookie’s attention was brought back to Schmitty when she let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, I really needed that.” The Quiplash host turned to Cookie, seeming to be much more like himself. Cookie shakily revealed the steak knife he’d been holding all this time.

“What’d you do to them?!”

“I’m sorry?” Schmitty tilted her head ever so slightly.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You should know that as the host of Fakin’ It and its sequel Fakin’ It All Night Long, I know how to spot a faker!”

“Wow. Way to brag about your third series of games.” The Quiplash host stared at its boyfriend with the most deadpan expression. “And I’m serious. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I mean that, you killed my partner and tried to take their place! I’m not gonna let you get away with replacing Schmitty, skinwalker!” Cookie stepped forward, waving the knife in the air with much less grace than he’d handle his buzzsaw with. To his surprise, Schmitty didn’t retaliate.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Cookie, but again. What the fuck?” They took a moment to go over the speech their boyfriend had just given before failing to stifle a laugh. “You think I’m a skinwalker?”

“Well, yeah? What else would you be?” Cookie reluctantly lowered his weapon of choice.

“A vampire…”

“Yeah, right.” Now it was Cookie’s turn to laugh in disbelief. “Since when?”

“Since last night.” Schmitty shrugged as if this was just common knowledge. “I’m sorry, why the fuck did you think I was a skinwalker?”

“Well, Laios said-”

“He wasn’t even there when that happened!” Schmitty started to make its way inside, and this time, Cookie was quick to follow. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you’re missing some context.” He paused for a second. “And he’s definitely gonna ask me about this, isn’t he?”

“Forget Laios’s questions! I’ve got a shit-ton of ‘em too!” Cookie flung his hands in the air before quickly making sure to place the knife on the first shelf he saw. “Why didn’t you tell me about this last night?”

“Do you really think I was in a place to?” The Quiplash host whipped around, his breathing getting quicker and quicker. “Look, it happened almost instantaneously, and I almost attacked the kid because that’s how much I was craving blood! So excuse me for wanting to just come home and at least have some hope that this all has been a twisted nightmare!”

“Oh shit…”

“And I just…can’t bear the thought of hurting you too.” Schmitty cringed as its voice broke but there was no stopping them now. “Hell, I don’t even know how long the bird and raccoon blood are gonna hold me over until there’s nothing else I can do.” The Quiplash host trailed off, hugging herself with her arms. Without hesitation, Cookie wrapped his arms around them, simply staying there for a while. When the Fibbage host broke away, he gently grabbed Schmitty’s hands and looked him square in the eye.

“Hey, I’ll be okay, Schmitty!” While his tone was genuine, that did not seem to reassure it. “Say that does happen. We’ll make an emergency plan, and I’ll be better in no time!”

“Cookie, I don’t think it’s that-”

“You need human blood specifically? You and I both know some quick and easy ways to get some. And you won’t even need to hurt anyone! I promise you, we’ve got this!”

“Jesus, Cookie. How are you so unfazed by this?” While Schmitty’s did seem slightly more relaxed, there was still a sense of wariness in his tone. “You’re just okay with all of this?”

“Well, to be fair it’s not the worst-case scenario I’d thought of by far.” That got a small shrug from the Quiplash host. “And what sort of boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t gonna work with you through this? You’ve done the same for me after, well, you know.”

“Yeah, that’s a fair point.” Schmitty let out a sigh, dropping her hands. “But what about the kids? What about work? I think it may be a bit hard to explain why I can only host Quiplash in the middle of the fucking night!”

“We’ll plan for that too!” Cookie led Schmitty over to the couch and sat down. “But clearly talking about this now is only gonna stress you out more, so how about we just sit down, put on a movie or something, and pick this back up whenever you’re ready to, okay?”

“Honestly, That’ll probably help a lot.” Schmitty dropped down onto the couch, right next to his boyfriend. “Got anything in mind?”

“Whatever you want!”

“Great!” Schmitty quickly grabbed the remote and started scrolling through any selection he could find. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Cookie staring at him with a giddy grin. “What? What is it this time?”

“I’m just glad to see you acting like you again,” Cookie purred, leaning into the other’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Wonder how long that’ll last.”

“Oh, come on!” The Fibbage host gently gave Schmitty a soft jab in the arm. “Can’t a guy just be glad to see his partner finally getting a moment of peace?”

“Actually, that sounds very nice, Cookie.” The Quiplash host leaned further back into the couch. “God, I love you so much!”

“Yeah, love you too!” Cookie’s grin only got bigger as he stared back and forth between Schmitty and the TV. “Anyways, are you gonna pick a movie or are we just gonna continue acting like we’re in a cheesy romcom for the rest of the day?”

“Hey! It’s a tough decision!” Schmitty threw their arms up in mock defense. “Maybe next time I should just let the movie trivia expert pick!”

The Fakin’ It host chuckled, unknowingly kicking his legs out a bit. “You have no idea how much I missed this.”

“Oh, believe me. I think I might.”

The couple’s back and forth went on for a while even overlapping the movie they were meant to be watching. Somehow, that was the most reassuring thing out of all this, whether they knew it or not.

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fettuccin-e · 2 years ago

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A Friend in Need

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Description: You’ve been trying to get over Matt Murdock after years of pining after him by sleeping with what seems like every eligible man in Hell’s Kitchen. Your complete infatuation, however, just seems to be getting worse when you feel completely unsatisfied after every one-night stand. Unbeknownst to you, Matt hears you tell Karen about your predicament. (Warnings: strong language, implied smut, mentions of masturbation and one-night stands)

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: My first (published) fic!! I’m definitely new at this, and there’s plenty of stuff to improve upon, but I’m just happy to be writing. I am also a slut for tortured, pretty men, so obviously I had to write for Matty.

---------------

“I don’t know Karen,” you say, sipping your drink, trying not to laugh at the enthusiasm of the gorgeous blonde across from you. “I was just thinking that I’d go home alone tonight.”

Karen giggles, already tipsy from the two glasses of wine she’s had since getting to Josie’s. “Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

You have to try not to grimace. “I think my ‘sense of adventure’ flew the coop four guys ago, Kare.”

You see her smile falter. “What do you mean? I mean, aren’t you still trying to chase away that, uh, issue, with Matt? If you can even call it that,�� she scoffs, before continuing, her smile returning to her face. “Wait, wait. Are you going to confess? Cause you should, I mean, it’s fairly obvious that he’s just as gone on you as you are on him, I mean—“

“No!” You’re quick to cut her off. “No Kare, you know I can’t, okay? Because as much as you say that he feels the same way, I can’t, I can’t take that chance. We’ve been friends for so long, you know? And to lose that… I think it would kill me.”

You glance up at her, hating her pitiful expression. “But it’s fine, Karen, really. I’m happy being his friend.”

But you weren’t happy. Not really. Not when Matt was flashing his beautiful smile at a gorgeous woman every other night, brushing his hand up her arm, keeping her under his spell. Not when he meets you after work the next day, radiating that smug, satisfied post-sex energy he always seems to radiate after a one-night stand. Not when he smiles at you after making a terrible joke, and you just want to kiss it off of him, but knowing you can’t.

Being in love with Matthew Murdock is fucking exhausting.

It’s been years since you figured out that your infatuation with him was much more than a crush. That you wanted more, so much more, than the friendship you, he and Foggy had all cultivated at Columbia. But you knew that he couldn’t feel the same. Not when he had beautiful women falling at his feet at every turn. Not when he was fighting crime night after night. You knew that he only wanted a friend out of your relationship, and no matter how exhausting it may be, you knew you had to find some way to be content with that.

Karen rips you out of your thoughts once again, “so what happened to that sense of adventure? To, quote unquote, ‘fuck your infatuation out of your system’?”

Right, that. Months ago, you had decided to try to find something different. You were tired of the sexual frustration everyday coming home from work, and by association, Matt. So, you told Karen that you were going to try to get it out of your system. Drown yourself in so much sex that you couldn’t bear to think of Matty like that anymore. Karen tried to talk you out of it, saying that it wouldn’t make things better, but you had made up your mind.

Only, it didn’t work. Made things worse, actually. You don’t know how, but it was like every man that you thought was vaguely hot had absolutely no idea what to do in bed. No clue. And the fact that you got home every night, just to finish the job with your own hand, made the issue infinitely worse. Your thoughts of Matt were only getting more vivid, not disappearing underneath memories of different men like you’d hoped. You tell Karen as such.

“At this point, it has to be me, right? Like, why is it so hard to make a girl cum? It’s like, some of them get there eventually, but it’s always… I don’t know… unsatisfactory? Like a half-orgasm or something.” You slump back into your chair. “I don’t know, maybe I’m just too hard to please.”

“No! No you’re not,” Karen says, reaching over to grip your hand. “If you aren’t satisfied, that’s their fault, not yours. Sex is a fifty-fifty exchange, not just one person putting in the effort to get the other person off. And if they’re all getting off, you should be too.” Her cheeks are flushed, brows furrowed in her drunken insistence.

You giggle softly at her enthusiasm. “I guess you’re right, Kare. Maybe I’m not looking at the right guys.”

“I know one guy you could look at,” Karen says, pointedly glancing behind you at the pool table, where Matt and Foggy were playing.

“No, Kare, okay? It’s fine, I’m fine. But, look,” you smile at her reassuringly. “It might just be me and my vibrator for a little while, okay?” You say with a laugh, only to jump when you hear a pool stick drop to the ground behind you with a clatter. You look behind you to see Matt standing over it, cheeks red.

Glancing back to Karen, who has been giggling from your last comment, you pick up your glass, noticing that you drained it between venting to Karen.

“Hey, I’m going to go get another. You want anything?”

Karen shakes her head, and you take one last glance at Matty, who is leaning against the wall while Foggy takes his shot, before heading to the bar.

Ordering your second drink of the night, you take a look around Josie’s, scoping out any men or women who you could maybe consider taking home tonight. Nothing. Nothing except the red-glasses, tight shirt wearing man of your dreams, who, when you look, isn’t at the pool table anymore. Foggy has struck up a conversation with Karen, while Matt is nowhere to be seen.

A tap on your shoulder brings you out of your reverie, causing you to whip around and immediately see a reflection of yourself in red glasses that seem to haunt your very existence.

“Hey Matty,” you manage to choke out, trying to find some semblance of natural speech.

“Hey sweetheart. You already order your drink?” He asks with that low timbre of his, and you can feel your skin practically buzzing.

You nod, then realize your mistake, and murmur out a soft “yes,” just as your bartender slides you your drink. Your hand immediately wraps around the glass, taking a long sip, trying to focus on the burn of the alcohol instead of the burn between your thighs.

“So,” he starts, seeming nonchalant. “You looking to take anyone home with you tonight?”

You nearly choke on your drink.

“No, uh,” you clear your throat, “just wanted to hang out tonight.”

“Kind of a change from the past few months, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you mutter, trying not to let bitterness creep into your voice. I wouldn’t be wasting my time with all of these people if you weren’t so fucking perfect, you want to say to him, but you force yourself to bite your lip to hold the words back.

Matt grins that gorgeous, heart-stopping smile that you can’t ever seem to look away from, even when it’s not directed toward you. His hand reaches out, brushing your fingers ever so gently, and it feels like lightning is striking up your body, lighting you up from the inside.

“And what brought this change on, huh, sweetheart?” He murmurs.

The butterflies are swarming in your stomach, and Matt is leaning in. In.

And against your better judgment, you don’t back away. Maybe this is it. The moment. Maybe you can tell him how you feel, and maybe, just maybe he feels the same.

You’re so close to him, so, so very close. His lips, beautiful and smiling, are mere centimeters from yours, and all it would take is a tiny, itty-bitty movement forward—

Wait.

You’ve seen this before. You know this. This grin, the touch, the glare of his red glasses against the bar lights. You’ve seen this countless times, in countless bars. With countless beautiful women. Always watching from afar, jealousy swimming in your stomach. This is Matt’s playbook. The routine. The order of events that can get any woman into his bed. And he’s doing it to you.

The butterflies in your stomach have flown up into your throat. You feel sick as you feel his warm breath on your face, smelling of the beer he’s been nursing.

“Matt, what are you doing?” You ask, not daring to lean away.

“And whatever could you mean, pretty girl?” How many other women has he used that line on?

Finally, you bring yourself to pull away, hand trembling as you grab your drink again. “Matt, you’re drunk. I don’t know how much you’ve had, but you’re drunk.”

You watch his brows furrow beneath his glasses. “Sweetheart, this is the second beer I’ve had tonight.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re trying to seduce me?” You laugh nervously, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, but Matt catches your wrist in a gentle grip.

“And what if I am?” And there’s that smile again. That gorgeous, wide, panty-dropping smile.

It takes everything in you to pull away again, to not give into his whims.

“Matty…” you start, but you’re quickly interrupted by Matt, who leans in again, like he’s telling you a secret.

“Look, I know I wasn’t supposed to hear you and Karen earlier, I know that.”

You stop him quickly, panic filling your chest. “How much did you hear?” Please tell me you didn’t hear Karen talking about the ‘Matt issue’, you think.

“Not much, just the end, but it was definitely enough,” Oh thank God. However, your relief doesn’t last long as Matt continues. “Sweetheart, if those guys taking you home weren’t treating you right, you should have just asked me,” he whispers conspiratorially, and you swear you nearly pass out. “I’m always willing to help out a friend in need.”

Friend.

The word repeats itself in your head, over and over again. Friend. Friend. Friend. The knot in your throat grows bigger, threatening to choke you out as you feel familiar pinpricks behind your eyes. You stand quickly from your barstool, trying not to let yourself start to cry, knowing that Matt would smell it.

“I’m not some conquest Matthew,” you say, not bothering to keep the venom from your voice.

You see Matt’s eyebrows raise in surprise as he stands as well. “What? No, I—“

You cut him off. “I’m not going to be some other notch on your bedpost Matt. God, I can’t even believe this. You say we’re friends,” you snarl the word, “but friends don’t act like this. If I needed to get my fucking rocks off or whatever, I am perfectly able to do so, but even then, how dare you? You were really just going to fuck me? Like it’s no big deal? Like we haven’t been friends for years?” Like I haven’t loved you for years, you want to say, but you bite your tongue. “You know who I am Matt, but right now, you’re acting like I’m no better than a stranger.”

You quickly grab your coat, feeling the breaths come out of your throat choked and garbled. Suddenly, you feel a hand wrap around your arm, and it’s like someone has lit a fire on your skin. You look back at Matt, seeing his brow furrowed, but unable to see the pain in his eyes.

“Sweetheart, I—“

Suddenly, the words are pouring out of your throat, unbidden. “And you know what the worst part is?” You hate how your voice cracks. “Is that you have no idea how fucking in love with you I am, Matt.” You try to ignore Matt’s soft gasp, audible even to you. “I have been in love with you since College Algebra and you, with all of your amazing powers and everything, have no idea. And it’s fine, okay? I can take you as a friend. But I can’t, I can’t have you in my bed, touching me like I’ve wanted you to for years, and never get anything more. I think it would kill me Matty, to have you walk away. And you… I thought maybe, just maybe that you would…” you have to cut yourself off, straightening your back to try to gain some semblance of dignity again.

You try to take a deep breath, to stave off anger or tears, you’re not really sure. His hand is still grasping your arm. “Let go of me Matthew. It’s… it’s fine. I know you said that you’re not drunk or whatever, but let’s just say you are, yeah? You’re drunk, I’m drunk, and we’ll forget about all of this in the morning.” You take his hand off your arm. “I’m going to catch a cab home. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

You can’t look at him. You can’t. You turn quickly and whip out your phone, not looking up from it as you leave Josie’s.

As soon as the cold winter air bites your skin, you let the tears fall, clutching the fingers that Matt had brushed so lightly, pretending to feel the heat still lingering there.

Meanwhile, Matt tries not to flinch as he hears the bar to Josie’s close. He can still feel her warmth on his palm, aching like the weight in his stomach.

He slumps back onto the barstool, grabbing his beer and chugging it roughly, coughing out a hoarse “fuck” when the bottle is empty. He can hear Foggy and Karen over the roaring of blood in his ears, hears both of them stand up and cross over to him.

“Matt, where’s she going?”

“Home.” Matt answers tensely, wishing the Earth could swallow him whole. Where were Foggy and Karen when he was making an ass of himself?

Foggy reads him like a book. “Matt, what did you do?”

Matt wants to lie, he really does, but your scent continues to linger in the air, your voice ringing in his ears, and suddenly he’s deflating even more, putting his face in his hands.

“I fucked up Fog. I really, really fucked up.”

The next day, you wake up with your head pounding. You wish you could blame it on some kind of hangover, but with the one drink you barely managed to get through the night before, you know alcohol wasn’t the culprit. A short glance at your tear stained pillow reminds you of the hours spent crying over the man you loved until the wee hours of the morning, when you finally passed out, dehydrated and upset.

The day passes by slowly and painfully as you refuse to look at the many text messages left by the man that broke your heart just hours earlier. Maybe a good fuck is all you’re supposed to get from him, you think, sex might be all that will ever come from your years spent pining for him. Wanting him. Loving him so much it hurt.

By the time you arrive home again, you’re ready to break out the whiskey you have stashed in your cabinet. Just to forget. Forget the way he looked at you, the way he touched you so gently.

He didn’t want anything more than a night with you, you try to remind yourself. You’re a body, maybe a friend to him, nothing more.

Your home is dark as you stumble in, ripping your uniform heels off. Your feet ache, your back aches, but no pain in your body could ever compare to the pain in your heart. All day, even after crying for what felt like a lifetime, your heart has felt constantly tight, feeling like a rock you just want to rip out of your body.

As you walk into the kitchen, you immediately feel like something is off. Just a slight wrongness. A presence.

Trusting your gut has gotten you pretty far in your life, so you don’t hesitate to follow it again, grabbing a knife from the block in your kitchen.

You listen carefully, suddenly wishing that you had Matt with you, with his powers. You run your hand up the wall, looking for the light switch.

A voice breaks out of the darkness. “Before you turn on the light, just know it’s me. I’m trying not to scare you.”

Speak of the devil. Literally.

Still, even though Matt is a friend, only a friend, the unhelpful voice in your mind supplies, your breath still rushes out of you in an unrestrained scream of “HOLY SHIT MATT!”

Your hand blindly flicks on the light on instinct, your eyes not daring to look away from the source of Matt’s voice.

As the light illuminates the room, you finally look at the man who broke your heart barely 24 hours earlier. And the man who broke into your house while you were at work, what the fuck?

Matt looks like shit, your brain immediately supplies upon seeing him. Not like the pained and hurt Matt you’ve patched up after a rough patrol. Not like the exhausted Matt you’ve taken to Josie’s after a tough day at Nelson and Murdock. This Matt, he’s gorgeous as usual, he always is, but this Matt looks ripped apart.

He’s wearing an old, worn, Fogwell’s tee with jeans that are just a little big on him, like he was rushing to get dressed and didn’t bother to make sure they fit him properly. His glasses aren’t anywhere to be seen, just his beautiful eyes, staring at you with so much anguish that your poor, overworked heart can’t help to clench in sympathy.

“Matt, what are you—“ you start, but Matt doesn’t let you finish.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly blurts out. His gaze is just off your face, but you can see his eyes filling with tears. “I am so, so,” his voice breaks, “sorry.”

Against your better judgment, you rush forward. You hate seeing Matty cry, even though you’ve only seen it happen a few times before. Your hands reach up, brushing tears away.

“No, no, Matty. You didn’t mean it. I know you didn’t mean it,” you try to console him softly, ignoring the pain in your chest.

“But I did mean it,” Matt says, taking you by surprise. You begin to back away, but Matt grips your wrist gently, keeping you rooted to the spot. Just like the night before. “I meant it, but not like you were thinking.” He takes a deep, rattling breath. “God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you think that I only wanted you for sex. I’m sorry that I let you walk out of Josie’s last night. I’m sorry that I,” he lets out a broken chuckle, “that I broke into your house just to apologize.” You let out a laugh at that comment, until your heart stops as Matt lifts your hand to his mouth, brushing a soft kiss over your knuckles.

“But most of all,” he whispers, “I’m sorry that I made you think that I didn’t love you.”

Your soft gasp is almost inaudible, but you know Matt hears it.

“I have loved you for so long, I don’t even remember what it was like to not love you. I have no idea how you could possibly think that I could ever live without you. God, watching you with those men? It killed me, every fucking time you walked out of Josie’s with one of them I died a little inside. Because it should be me. It should have always been me. And I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you that I loved you sooner.” The hand that Matt doesn’t have wrapped around your wrist goes up to your cheek, wiping away the tears that you hadn’t even realized were falling down your cheeks.

“I love you,” he whispers, his lips so close to yours, you can feel his breath ghosting across your face. “I love you so much, sweetheart. So much that it hurts.”

You can’t take it anymore. His words, his touch, his fucking smell. You lurch forward, crossing that tiny little barrier between the both of you, and press your lips to his.

You hear him suck a breath in through his nose in surprise before he’s kissing you back gingerly, his hands are dropping to your hips, touching them gently, almost afraid.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer into you, and break the kiss just barely, trying to speak against his lips. “I love you so much Matty,” you whisper into him, and that move, it seems, is what breaks Matt’s resolve. His hands, no longer afraid, grip into your hips, pressing your bodies closer, closer, as he captures your lips again. You feel his tongue brush your lower lip, and you moan as you open your mouth into the kiss, granting him entrance.

Matt tastes like coffee and sleep and love, and you already know that you’re addicted, that you can’t ever go back. You nearly whine when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours.

“Say it again,” he whispers, and you know immediately what he means.

“I love you,” you smile, your heart nearly bursting with sheer adoration.

“Again,” he says.

“I love you, Matt Murdock.” His wide smile at your words is nearly blinding.

“I love you so much, sweetheart.”

His hands are gentler now, wrapping around your back reverently, like he’s trying to keep you plastered to him, like you’ll disappear.

“Take me to bed, Matty?” You say, coy, even though you know he won’t be able to resist. You know because you can’t resist him either.

“God, yes.” He breathes, making you laugh. “For forever and ever, sweetheart. Never a one time thing, never,” he says adamantly, trying to drill it into your brain that he’ll never leave.

“Come on, darling,” you say to him, breaking away to lead him to your bedroom. “You have to show me what I’ve been missing. These other guys haven’t been treating me right, you know,” you giggle, parroting his words back at him from just the night before.

He smiles that million-watt smile, and your heart jumps at the fact that it’s just for you.

“Trust me baby,” he murmurs against your ear. “I’ll treat you right for the rest of our fucking lives.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil fluff #matt murdock fluff

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withacapitalp · 2 years ago

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“So….let me get this straight. It’s your little sister’s birthday, she gets home from tumbling in a half hour, and you both forgot that you promised you had the quote unquote perfect present for her,”

Mike shot Robin a low level glare, crossing his arms and hunching his shoulders in tight.

“We didn’t mean to forget! We’re busy, you know?”

“Yes, so busy you forgot your sister even existed,” Robin shot back, having too much fun with their misery.

Nancy had an excuse. She didn’t know what Mike was wasting his time on but she had been busy. Holly’s birthday was January 29th, which was right after Winter Break, and college letters would be coming soon. Nancy had to keep her GPA perfect, she had the newspaper to run, and she also was working on a potential internship for the summer in Indianapolis. It was logical she would forget about Holly’s birthday in all of that. Understandable.

Wasn’t it?

She was making up for it now at least. Holly would never know the difference. She was six, she would be happy with just about anything.

Seven. She’s turning seven today.

“We’re gonna watch her favorite movie with her and tell her that her present is a shopping day on Saturday. That’s a good gift, right?” Nancy said, a hint of desperation in her tone. Judging by the look Robin gave her, it wasn’t, but they were running out of options.

“Fine,” Robin sighed, rolling her eyes and pulling up to the computer, “What’s the movie?”

Silence. Awkward, terrible, uncomfortable, silence.

“Seriously? Nothing?” Robin asked with an incredulous laugh.

“It’s some stupid kid flick! She makes us watch it all the time. It has an -ie at the end right?” Mike asked, turning to Nancy who threw her hands up. She had absolutely zero clue and they had at most ten minutes to come home before their mother grounded them for the rest of their lives.

Not to mention Holly was probably going to cry for at least two weeks straight.

“ The Goonies . It has to be The Goonies. It has an -ie at the end, and she likes to rent that one, right?” Nancy said on an impulse, giving Robin a hopeful look.

“Nancy, she’s not my sister. How could I possibly know what she likes?”

“Gee thanks Robin, that’s so helpful,” Mike snarked, and Robin’s face twisted into a look that spelled all kinds of trouble. Things really couldn’t get worse.

“What are you all doing?”

It could get worse. Steve was coming out from the back, and now he was going to get to witness her complete and utter humiliation.

“Oh you know, the usual,” Nancy groaned, covering her face with her hands. She was officially giving up, “We’re busy being the worst siblings in the world.”

“They forgot Holly’s birthday and now they don’t have a gift for her,” Robin said, sounding far too smug. Nancy wanted to curse her out, just a little bit. Stupid only children with their stupid self satisfaction. They never had to deal with bratty six year olds who cried at the drop of a hat and made everything about them.

Seven. Seven years old. Holly was seven today.

“Oh,” Steve said, kneeling down and bringing up a rectangular box wrapped up in the Sunday morning funnies. He held it out to Nancy with a tiny smile, “Here, you guys can just take this one. I was going to drop it off after work,”

“You have a gift for Holly? You?” Mike asked dubiously, Nancy staring at the present like it was radioactive.

“It’s her birthday,” Steve said simply, like that explained everything, “It’s nothing big, just a doll she had mentioned wanting a couple weeks back. She was in here with your mom renting Annie , and she said that the doll looked just like the little girl in her favorite movie.”

Robin smirked, slowly deleting The Goonies off of the computer and walking around to go look for Annie, leaving the Wheelers to try and put themselves together

“Steve- I-we-” Nancy sputtered, uncharacteristically lost for words. Her ex huffed out a laugh and began to punch something into the computer, taking the VHS holder from Robin when she skipped over, movie in hand.

“Tell Holly I said Happy Birthday,” Steve said, putting the movie and the present in a paper bag and putting it on the counter, “Robs, I’m taking the last two minutes of my break to smoke,”

He was walking out the back door before Nancy could wrap her mind around the words ‘Thank you’.

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pavo-ocxllus · 2 years ago

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❝ 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞! ❞

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡… you're on the kiss cam with some of the genshin boys! 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠… tighnari x gn!reader (ft. collei!), shikonin heizou x reader, gn!cyno x reader 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠… no established relationship, modern!au where anthropomorphic people exist because for some reason i refuse to believe in a reality where tighnari doesn’t have his ears, 2.5k words (seperately, tighnari: 0.8k; heizou: 0.7k, cyno: 1k) 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬… typed in lowercase as a stylistic choice, idk a kiss-cam, heizou is a piece of dook-dook, probably messy writing on cyno’s, also he might be ooc whoops- 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐭… let's hope this actually shows up in the tags this time take two lol (also i’m super sorry abt neglecting event asks!! i can’t promise i’ll get to them asap, but i’ll try to get them done!!) ALSO, incredibly off topic—y’all don’t know how happy i am for cyno’s va (alejandro saab)!! i’ve been following him ever since his mystreet and yandere simulator days so it's great to see him get such a role!

𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢. ･ﾟ: *. — 𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐚.

TIGHNARI definitely expected collei to be so excited during a sports event.

"wow... it's so crowded here!" she exclaimed, excitedly shaking her head in one direction after another. simply hearing her voice was enough to sense the golden sparkles hovering inside of her amethyst-colored eyes. truth be told, she wasn't used to being in the same vicinity as so many people. though eleazar was not contagious, it was always a concern for tighnari that collei wouldn't be getting proper rest or enough medicine to last for the duration of a game.

however, the archons sent an angel from above for collei in the form of you, who somehow managed to guilt trip the forest watcher into bringing her to the sports stadium nearby so she could be a quote-unquote "normal teenager," even going as far as to invite him along with you two.

he certainly did his best to refrain from acting too overbearing, and he succeeded—at least verbally.

spotting him checking collei's bag yet again after five minutes to see if she still has enough of her prescription, you quickly swatted his hand away, causing a small yelp of pain to escape from tighnari's mouth. if collei wasn't so busy 'oohing' and 'ahhing' she'd probably attempt to stifle a laugh.

"you really have to relax, 'nari," he scoffs at the nickname, but it secretly makes his heart skip a beat. "see, collei here as every reason to be anxious, however..."

you jabbed a finger at his chest, smirking. "you don't."

slightly confused to see you settle back into your seat after your gesture, he sighed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms and legs. "what, is it illegal to care about collei now?"

you frowned a bit at his retort. "no... but now that you're here, you'll might as well enjoy yourself, right? she definitely is."

tighnari looked to his left, where collei was animatedly joining the cheering spectators. it was obvious she had no clue what was going on much less know what team to root for, but seeing her being completely fine made him physically relax.

it seems as though he made himself so comfortable that he didn't even clock the sudden placement of a gentle, warm weight on top of his hand.

"c'mon~ please? for me?"

tighnari liked to think he was better than this petty form of persuasion. when it came to you though, it seems to be a different case. shaking his head, he nodded before you lifted your hand from his (an unexpected chill ran through his arm after that), clasping your hands together in glee.

it would've been a sweet moment, him staring into your eyes while you did the same in return for a few seconds, if it weren't for the blaring buzzing sound filling the stadium, ruining it all.

"oh, that must be half-time!" you exclaimed, shooting upwards from your spot, being sure to take your belongings with you so they would slip off from those foldable chairs. "i'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick-"

"[name], master, look!!" collei was quick to interrupt your sentence. usually, tighnari would scold the girl for cutting into people's sentences, but seeing as she was pointing rather aggressively, he believed it was worth looking into. or in this case, up.

and there were him and you—front and center of the jumbo screen attached to the vaulted, steel ceiling above with a plethora of digital hearts and kiss stains floating everywhere. he didn't even need to read the bold letters spelling out 'KISS-CAM" to figure out what was going on.

just his luck, right? he got what he wanted—to stare into those big, colored eyes of yours—but unfortunately not in the way he would've preferred. glancing back at you, he was met with unabashed shock not towards him, but to the screen above.

tighnari knew how these little games they played during intermissions work. try to ignore it, and they'll move on with someone else only to come right back at the two of you, similar to the physics of collei's boomerang. it's best that they get this over with before further public humiliation ensues, after all.

slowly, he leaned in to press his lips against your cheek for a second or two before pulling back. takes the least amount of time and best of all, is the least awkward. a win-win, right?

well, as fate would have it, you seemed to notice just in time, jolting your head towards tighnari so fast he didn't have time to register something soft grazing over his lips.

wait... what?

he was quick to pull away, completely aghast at the sudden feeling, you mirroring the exact same emotions. he was too focused at everything going inside of him that it took him a while to snap out of his shocked state, darting his multi-colored eyes away from you and looking into the peripheral of his vision to find that the kiss cam has moved on to some other unsuspecting people that were actually romantically involved with each other.

tighnari glanced upon you once more, only to find you still stubbornly standing there—looking like you just wanted to sink in the floor right now. for some reason, he could only muster up a slight smile tugging upon his lips.

“the bathroom...?”

“oh, right!”

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐮. ･ﾟ: *. — 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫.

as much as you enjoyed HEIZOU’S company, you really, really hate sitting next to him right now.

“pfft- hey [name], look-” he barely managed to carry out his sentence before combusting into laughter, shoving his phone into your face to show off the latest unappealing, oddly good-quality photo he took of one of the players tens of feet below them zoomed in, most likely a face they made during a collision or accident of some sort. it was quite strange, yet fascinating, how he managed to take some of these pictures spot on but somehow always makes them blurry when you convince him to take a cute one of you.

“not now, heizou!!” you groaned, trying your best to the device away from your view (much to your dismay, he has a stubbornly, sturdy arm strength), eventually settling on attempting to peek away from the screen (unfortunately, he was just as swift as he was strong. isn’t there anything he isn’t good at?!)

though it was barely 30 minutes into the game, the atmosphere was quite tense as the crowd of viewers (with the exception of heizou) excitedly watched in bated breath as players perform at their best, or at least near it. really, even if you weren’t a fan of the sport, you can see why everybody was so invested in it, both emotionally and financially. as they zoomed pass, in the midst of the cheers and the heat of sweaty athletes hard at work, it couldn’t help but add further on to the atmosphere.

at the sight of your intrigued facial expression, he couldn’t help but soften his face, letting a brief moment of... honestly, he didn’t even know what wash over him. weakness? relaxation? who cares? he certainly didn’t.

his outstretched arm bended at his elbow, while the grip on his phone loosened. the young maroon-haired man didn’t even clock the fact that he repositioned his arm so he could rest his cheek at the palm of his hand—well, the cool glass screen from his cell phone.

almost immediately, he remembered to keep his guard up, quickly shifting into his usual menace of an attitude.

your focus on the game almost managed to let the snap of heizou’s camera go unnoticed. keyword: almost.

“ha, talk about a total nerd,” heizou commented teasingly as he took a picture that you’re absolutely going to complain about later, despite the fact that if anything, he was definitely the ‘nerd’ out of the two of you.

“wha- don’t do that!” you exclaimed, completely disregarding the fact you were going to start a scene and plunging into the detective’s obvious trap.

he only smirked, reaching out his arm to violate some poor person’s personal space just out of your hands, resulting in you placing a hand on his chest to keep yourself up an attempt to retrieve his phone, delving further and further into embarrassing yourself later: which at this point, it doesn’t seem you even care.

lost in his thinly veiled bullying, the two of you didn’t even notice the loud ‘BUZZ’ filling the stadium, and the subsequent camera operators aiming the infamous kiss-cam at the two of you. of course, his renowned intuition already led him to believe this going happen, going as far as to expect you two were going to be the first ones on the gigantic screen above.

“fine, you want my phone so bad, but i want you do to do a little favor for me, yeah?” you quirked your eyebrow in brief confusion, only to be quickly cut off by the detective propping himself up and closed in on your lips. really, to him, it was like everything was setting off at once through the kiss, only to end so abruptly as he pulled away, his green eyes meeting your almost stupefied appearance.

heizou wasn’t the one to overly focus on a single moment in time—it was a habit that a detective had to develop in order to watch the big picture. however, he couldn’t help but try to justify it in his mind; making a whole other picture. it felt like the burst of fireworks illuminating in the dark sky, shining brighter than the stars. in reality, the “fireworks” were just the people around them erupting in whistles and screams, yet it didn’t make it feel any less magical.

eventually, he pulled away, viridescent eyes gazing upon your reaction, only smirking as he tossed his phone at you like it was nothing, completely disregarding the red pinching his cheeks. he was a man of his word, after all.

𝐜𝐲𝐧𝐨. ･ﾟ: *. — 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐬.

this was one of the most idiotic activities CYNO had the pleasure of participating in, not that it was reflected in his rather crossed expression and his current thoughts at the moment.

“one more! one more!” you repeated as the silver-haired man rolled his vermillion eyes, shaking his head. for a few seconds, he glanced down upon the arena below looking at the players dashing all over the place. it was as if you’d blink, they’ll be doing something completely different all of a sudden. really, he wasn’t the one for sports, but even he can acknowledge the event was significantly more interesting than whatever the hell you wanted to do.

not even bothering to do anything else to display his annoyance, he fetched a piece of crackerjack in your direction. apparently, his attention wasn’t so detached from your frivolous games that he watched as it successfully made it into your mouth with a bit of shifting around on your part. nevertheless, even after exerting so much effort in a rather easy toss (at least, in his point of view), you still cheered in victory, even though the section the two of you were seated in wasn’t particularly rowdy.

somewhat surprised that you didn’t show any embarrassment as any usual person would after the sudden outburst, he observed as you sat down back in your seat, finally not obstructing the view from the poor spectators behind the both of you (well, with cyno’s hat, it wasn’t like he was better).

“are you done?” he inquired. though this was simply an innocent question, some of the people encompassing the two of you looked as though a chill ran down their spines just how vexed he seemed through his voice. cyno passed the nearly-empty bucket of crackerjack to you—it was barely the end of the first half, yet with the incriminating food all over the floor, it didn’t exactly take a detective to solve the case of the missing game snacks.

“mhmm!”

“that’s good,” the mahamatra sighs, hoisting up his elbow to rest on his knee, his chin perching on the palm of his hand as he decided to gaze upon the match below. “why are you so invested in me flinging food at you instead of the game? it is what we’re here for, isn��t it?”

the joy in your face slowly faded away, being replaced by a slight frown as you sighed, mirroring his actions not too long after.

“well, yeah... but i want to hang out with you.”

unbeknownst to you, cyno widened his eyes a bit, not knowing how to process such a small bit of information. of course, questions aside, (such as, if you really wanted to hang out with him, why take him to a place where his attention should most definitely be directed somewhere else?) it wasn’t very often that he was invited out to places unless it was from particularly plucky students attempting to kiss up to him when they were attempting to cover up academic misconduct.

sure, the two of you could be considered close, depending on your definition of the word. regardless, he wasn’t under the impression that you and he were close enough that you’d go out of your way to spend time with him.

he wasn’t sure as to why, but the thought was enough to make his heart flutter.

deeply exhaling, as if suddenly contemplating if he really wanted to go through with this, it managed to catch your attention enough to shake your head towards his direction.

“fork some over, yeah?”

“huh?”

“toss some,” he answered, simply gesturing to the bucket of snacks in your grasp. though, it didn’t stop you from looking at him in shocked glee.

apparently, the silver-haired young man registered it as confusion, so, without prior warning, he latched on to your wrist, then proceeded to direct you into grabbing a piece of crackerjack and throwing it across a short distance so it would pop into his mouth with ease.

“like that.”

unfortunately, the short distance also represented the space between the two of you; given your current seating arrangements, being so close to cyno as you are right now seemed impossible mere seconds before. satisfied with his small fill and leaving you with an empty paper bucket, he set his eyes on the field below once more, slightly perplexed when there wasn’t anything going on.

meanwhile, slightly upset at the fact that the mahamatra had stolen your last pieces of food, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit flustered after glancing up towards the ceiling for a change of scenery.

distracted over trying to figure out the whereabouts of the players from earlier, the kiss-cam from above was fixed squarely on you two, and you swore you could hear cries from the distant crowd trying to grab cyno’s attention (in addition to the not-so-subtle neighboring onlookers practically yelling at him.)

paying no mind to his incredible willpower to resist the masses (or complete social unawareness), you started to feel frustrated with the pressure around the two of you. it wasn’t exactly the end of the world, of course—but a little bit of you doesn’t want to admit that you really, really needed an excuse to act on your feelings.

much like cyno’s nonexistent attempt to alert you of what he was planning on doing, you grabbed the collar of his button-up shirt and smashed your lips on top of his. as quick as it came, you let go almost instantly, the slight taste of crackerjack still fresh in your mouth.

letting out a quick breath in relief that the kiss cam decided to go away from the two of you, you subconsciously turned away from the young man, placing your hands on top of your face. you went to overlook the floor below you, cringing at your actions. what the hell was wrong with you?! sure, in some aspects, maybe you weren’t exactly the god of wisdom herself, but surely you have enough intelligence to know that you can’t just kiss people out of the blue!

yet that just raises a question... what if he wanted that?

it was a stupid idea. idiotic, even. however, there was a burning, aching desire to discover if that was the case, to the point you decided to ignore the personal repercussions to your emotional well-being.

so, peaking out from in between your fingers to gauge cyno’s reaction, you’re surprised to find a small smile creeping up his lips as he continued to watch the empty field.

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 <𝟑

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cycat-carisi · 3 years ago

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All Those Things and More

I tried a thing! We don’t know an awful lot about Detective Vlassic Pickle Joe Velasco, but I peg him as this more stoic person who keeps a lot of things bottled up inside. That said, I also think he would be a supportive person to those he cares about. Hence this drabble thing...Tah-dah!

Summary: You arrive at your long-time friend Joe’s apartment a drunken mess and in need of some answers. Pairing: Joe Velasco x Reader Warnings: Alcohol and language Words: 872 AO3 here

"I just don't get it, Joe!" you exclaim, haphazardly waving around the open bottle of wine in your hand. "Why are all men the same? Why d-do they all want women who l-look like carbon copies of each other?!?"

The Joe you are referring to sits across from you on his apartment floor, both your backs rest against a sofa. You had shown up at his door at 9pm, already half way through a bottle of wine and of course he had let you in.

You see, Joe Velasco had been your best friend since college. You'd taken the same classes, worked together on projects and found a mutual detest for your shithead fathers. The two of you clicked, understood each other and were just mutually supportive. Even going so far as to help one another through the roughest and darkest times in your lives. You and Joe could be yourselves around each other and neither of you were strangers to late-night venting sessions like this one.

"T-tell me," you press on, "yourra dude. Tell me why men d-do that!"

Joe speaks to you calmingly. "Okay, Chiquita, you’re drunk. Back up a bit. I have no idea what you're talking about."

You give him a scrutinizing look. Maybe you had just burst through his door and plopped yourself on the floor without an explanation. "M-my bad," you begin taking another swig from the bottle. "So, remember that reeeeally hot guy I've b-been wanting to get the n-number of?" Joe quirks a dark eyebrow at you. "A-anyway, so I, umm, I was a-about to waltz riiiiight up to him today b-but before I could this supermodel shows up out of the fucking blue and l-latches herself onto him! H-he's like, 'hey baby'", you imitate a deep voice before bringing it up several octaves, "and she's like, 'Hey baby!' and - and then they walk off together!" You raise your free hand incredulously. "Can y-you believe it?!!"

"So…he has a girlfriend?" Joe treads carefully.

"Duh! B-but that's n-not the point, Joe!" you aim a finger at him. "The p-point is that all men want the same thing! All of them want these size z-zero, five-foot ten b-bombshells with perky little boobs and tight butts!" Joe opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off. "No! Shhh!" you slam a finger to your lips. "I've s-seen you on Tinder, pal. I've s-seen the hotties you s-swipe right on. Don't lie to me, Joe! All men want the s-same thing. I-I just wanna know why!"

Joe tries to speak again, but you're in your own little drunken haze and continue to ramble. "I'm s-smart and I'm f-funny and I'm fun, but ooooooh noooo, I got tummy rolls!" You lift the hem of your shirt exposing your stomach. "Lookit it!" you exclaim, tapping your tummy. "It jiggles and w-wiggles and I g-gotta try and hide it in my pants!" Releasing your shirt, you then hold up and arm and shake it. "N-now look at this! My arm j-jiggles too! And don't even get me s-started on my ass!"

Rant over, you finally turn an expectant gaze onto Joe across from you. As usual, the bastard's resolve doesn't crack. "You done?" he finally speaks, unlinking his crossed arms. You flash him an angry pout. "Look, it's true that I've swiped for women who fit the quote-unquote supermodel look, but really, Tinder is a stupid place to date. None of those women wanted anything more than a hookup. Maybe they're nice people, who knows, but nothing came of it for me." Joe holds your gaze, steady and cool as always. "As for that guy today, well, it's his loss. Sometimes people are superficial and are only attracted to what someone looks like, but in 20, 30 years when those looks fade, what's left?"

Joe's expression softens, those dark eyes holding yours and grounding you in reality. That fiery fury that raged inside of you earlier is quickly extinguished by one single look from your long-time friend.

"Listen, Chiquita," he continues when you don't interject. "Like you say, you are smart and you are funny and you are so much fun." A smile spreads across his face. "And any guy who can't see that doesn't deserve you, tummy rolls or no tummy rolls, okay?"

Your shoulders slouch, touched by his words. You feel as if you're about to cry. "W-why are you always so g-good to me?" you sob before setting aside the wine bottle and scooting across the floor to hug him.

Startled at first, Joe hesitates, but as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, he relaxes and envelopes you in a warm embrace. A moment passes before he whispers softly into your hair. "Because I think you're all those things and more, Chiquita. To me you are beautiful."

Joe's certain you can feel his heart thundering in his chest, yet he doesn't get a response from you. Instead, he hears a quiet snore sound off in his ear. He gently leans you forward to see you sound asleep. He chuckles to himself, giving off a sideways smirk before delicately transferring you his sofa. For now, his little admission would just have to wait.

Tag list! @teamsladsandgents @witches-unruly-heart @barbasbodaciousbeard @caracalwithchips @averyhotchner @one-sweet-gubler @anlin2058 @katieslotherford @misscharlielulu @pjkimrn (I know this isn’t a Sonny fic, so if you wanna be removed for other character fics, no worries! Just lemme know!)

#joe velasco #joe velasco x reader #detective vlassic pickle #my fanfic #law and order svu #svu fanfic #one shot

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beelsnack · 3 years ago

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I Put A Spell On You - Obey Me Boys and A Witch MC

I may have mentioned it in an ask or something before, but I'm actually a practicing witch. (Sorry, Mammon.) So, in honor of spooky season, I bring you witch MC!

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Lucifer: "Can I ask you something?"

Lucifer looked up from the report he had been working on. In the House of Lamentation, hearing that question was very rarely followed by anything but disaster. He bit back the urge to sigh and turned to look at the human. "You may."

"Have you ever been summoned by a witch?" the human set down their pen. They had taken refuge in Lucifer's room in an attempt to actually get their homework done, and had been working diligently up until this point. "Like, successfully."

He raised an eyebrow. "No, I haven't. I doubt any mortal witch would have the power to actually summon me."

"That's what I thought," they leaned back in their chair, stretching.

"What brought this on?"

"A witch I know up in the Human Realm swore up and down that he had, quote unquote, ‘summoned Lucifer himself.’ No one believed him anyway, but I figured I would ask just to confirm my suspicions.”

“No, it is highly unlikely that a mortal witch would have the magical power to summon me,” Lucifer chuckled darkly. “Although many have tried.”

“What happens to them when they do?” they asked, completely abandoning their work at this point. Part of Lucifer wanted to reprimand them for getting distracted, but he couldn’t deny that he liked having their attention on him. “Do you curse them or something?”

“I do nothing,” he smirked as they got up to lean against his desk. Perhaps he could stand to take a break as well. “The minor demons they actually summon, however, often have their fun with those foolish enough to try.”

“Oh, I’ll bet the Little Ds have a blast with them, huh?” the human grinned.

“Ask Number Two about the time he possessed a ouija board and convinced a human they would die if they ever wore the color blue again.”

Laughing, the human moved to return to their spot at his coffee table where they had spread out all of their study materials. Lucifer, however, had different plans.

“Oof!”

In one quick, fluid motion, he had grasped the human around the waist and tugged them into his lap. The movement had mussed up their hair, and he affectionately moved a few strands out of their face to see their adorable pout.

“You know, my dear, you are the only human witch able to summon me. You should wear that fact like a badge of honor.”

Mammon: “Now that’s just playin’ dirty!”

The human had to make a concentrated effort not to laugh at Mammon. “Yeah, they really didn’t have to go that far. They already have you by the balls.”

“They do not!” Mammon growled, crossing his arms. “Nobody has control over The Great Mammon!”

“Except for the multitude of humans who you made pacts with because they promised you a few bucks.”

“Wow, okay.”

Shaking their head, they gently plucked the doll out of Mammon’s palm. It was a standard poppet, made out of cloth. “Why don’t you just have Lucifer or Satan undo the curses?”

“Because,” Mammon huffed. “Human magic is different from demon magic. None of us know the first thing about it.”

“You just don’t want to admit to anyone that the witches pulled one over on you again.”

“Can you fix it or not?”

Smothering another laugh, they brought the poppet closer to examine it. Aside from the basic filling, it felt like there were some stones in there, and they thought they smelled some herbs.

“So, basically all you need to do is remove whatever link they used to bind the doll to you,” they muttered, more to themself than anything. “Usually it’s hair, nail, a drop of blood if they’re feeling particularly nasty…”

“That’s what they were doin’?”

The human looked up, tilting their head. “What?”

“One of the witches was bein’ real nice to me,” Mammon sighed. “Patting me on the head when I dropped off some money for them. Shoulda known she was trying something fishy!”

“Okay, that answers that.” they made their way over to their desk, plopping down in the chair. “So she probably pulled out some of your hair and put it inside the doll. So all we have to do it get it out, this thing becomes a regular old doll, and voila, curse broken.”

“How do we do that?” Mammon asked, peering over their shoulder as they reached into their drawer. His blue eyes widened when they pulled out a pair of scissors. “Whaddaya plan on doin’ with those?”

“Mammon, this is going to hurt like a bitch.”

“Wha - ack!”

Mammon doubled over in pain at the same time the human cut open a slice on the doll’s belly. There, right in the center of the stuffing and stones - and there were herbs in there, they had been right! - was a little bundle of white hair, tied with a piece of twine.

“Ah-ha!” they plucked the bunch out of the doll, and Mammon just barely managed to catch himself on the corner of the desk before he went crashing to the floor.

“Holy shit, human, I’m gonna fuckin’ hurl.”

“Do it somewhere that isn’t my room, please.”

Leviathan: “Levi, I don’t know how to tell you this, but ‘witch’ and ‘magical girl’ aren’t the same thing.”

Ever since they let it slip that they practiced witchcraft, Levi had obsessively forced them to watch every magical girl anime he could think of. It was his way of relating to them, they were sure, but it was starting to get a little out of hand. There were only so many variations of the magical girl trope in existence.

Levi frowned at them. “It’s not?”

“Well, for one, I don’t own a super cute lolita dress.”

“Do you want me to make you one?”

The human laughed. “Somehow I don’t think showing up to a coven meeting wearing a pink loli dress will make the others take me very seriously.”

“What about blue?”

“Leviathan.”

“Fine, fine,” he huffed. “So if it’s not like in the anime, what is human magic like?”

“A lot more boring than demon magic, honestly.” the human shrugged, turning back to the monitor. Since they had put their foot down against watching Madoka, the two of them were rewatching Sailor Moon. “A lot of using herbs and crystals and energy. Really symbolic.”

“That is boring,” Levi scowled. “You don’t even get a transformation sequence.”

“I’m just as mad about it as you are, dude.”

Satan: “Holy shit, Satan, that is a ton of books.”

THe demon had no reason to look as proud as he did as he sat the stack of books on the table in front of him. “This isn’t even all of them. Some of them are cursed, so I let them be for now.”

“That’s...both impressive and concerning.” the human picked up a book off the top of the pile. “Whoa, it’s even handwritten!”

“I’ve collected my fair share of grimoires over the millennia.” Satan took a seat across from them, watching as they turned each page with reverence. “I believe that one is from a Scottish witch from the 16th century.”

“Should I be wearing gloves or something?” they cradled the book like it was made of glass. “This is historic, Satan.”

“I’ve cast the appropriate spells on them to prevent them from decaying, don’t worry.” Satan laughed. “Although your concern is appreciated.”

“I could learn so much about the craft from these,” their voice was barely above a whisper, eyes wide as they scanned each page like it contained the secret to eternal life. “This is...wow…”

The look of utter rapture that the human had on their face was endearing, and Satan couldn’t help but smile softly at them. “Feel free to peruse them whenever you like. They deserve to be appreciated.”

“You mean it?” they looked up with hope sparkling in their eyes. “Thank you so much, Satan!”

“Of course,” he reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind their ear. “That look on your face is worth any price.”

Asmodeus: “I have a gift for you!”

Asmo poked his head up from where he had buried it in his D.D.D. The human stood next to the couch, arms clasped behind their back and a giddy smile stretching across their face. Asmo could practically feel them vibrating from excitement.

“Ooh, for me? Darling, you shouldn’t have!” He pocketed his phone and gave them his full attention. “What is it?”

They held out their hands, revealing the treasure they had been hiding. “Ta-da!”

Asmo carefully picked up the chain from their palms. Dangling from the end of it was a small bottle, wrapped carefully in wire and turned into a pendant. Tiny, translucent pink stones sat inside, nestled in a layer of salt and herbs. The magic surrounding it was faint, as most human witchery was, but it was so uniquely them that Asmo could just about cry.

“Oh, darling, you made me a love charm!” he exclaimed, immediately slipping the necklace on. “It’s so cute! I love it, thank you so much!”

The human smiled. “I’m glad! I wasn’t sure what to do with the rose quartz, but I knew you would love them, so I figured I would make you something! Not that I really think a love charm would work on you, but I figured you would appreciate the aesthetic.”

Asmo laughed, reaching forward to cup the side of their face gently. “You don’t need to use a love charm on me, darling. I’m already captivated by you.” His other hand came up to touch the pendent resting against his collarbone. “This will just serve as a reminder of how spellbound you’ve made me.”

Beelzebub: When they had first described themself as a “kitchen witch,” Beel had thought that they meant they were a really good cook.

And while that was true, they also were literally a kitchen witch.

“Basil for protection...oregano to ward off negative magic...there, that should do it.”

To Beel, it just looked like they were making pasta. Which was never a bad thing. But they chose which herbs to season it with such intention and purpose, Beel knew it was more than that.

“Do herbs really have magic?” he asked, leaning on the counter next to the stove while the human worked on magic dinner. “I’ve never thought of them as particularly magical.”

“It’s more of a human thing,” they said, sprinkling the last of the oregano over the pot of sauce. “We don’t get the flashy sparks and all that, so we had to develop our own magic.”

“Hm…” Beel regarded the pot with curiosity. “Is that why your cooking is so good?”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” they laughed, swatting at his hand as he slowly approached the pot. “You aren’t sneaky, Beel.”

“Can I just have a taste?”

“Your ‘taste’ is drinking the whole pot like it’s soup.” they rolled their eyes. “I haven’t even started cooking it yet! It’s cold!”

Beel pouted, looking every bit the kicked puppy. “But I want to taste your magic.”

“You can taste my magic when dinner’s ready.”

Belphegor: On nights when he couldn’t sleep, Belphie usually ended up with the human.

Sometimes it was just him wiggling his way into their bed and cuddling with them until he felt sleepy. But tonight, it looks like they were sharing a case of insomnia.

So that was how he ended up sitting on the human’s floor with his hand in their lap as they studied it like it was a textbook.

“So? What do the squiggly lines of destiny tell you about me?”

“That you’re a little bitch.” they shot back, running their thumb over the center of his palm. “You have a lot of crosses on your heart line.”

“Which means?”

“You’re emotionally fucked up.”

Belphie snorted. “I could have told you that one.”

“You’re the one who came in here and wanted to see some human magic, I don’t want to hear any complaining.” they let go of his hand. “The only reason I’m breaking out the salt and candles is to banish your demonic ass from my room.”

“You know that only works on lesser demons.”

“Anything will work as banishment if I throw it hard enough.”

Diavolo: This...felt kind of pointless, honestly.

They knew it was mainly because of Diavolo’s obsession with human culture. But doing a Tarot reading for the Crown Prince of Hell seemed like a waste of everyone’s time.

Well, regardless, a summons from Diavolo was not to be ignored, so they had dutifully gathered up their cards and made their way to the Demon Lord’s Castle.

“You know,” they began hesitantly. “If you want to know the future, you have a time-manipulating butler right there.”

Barbatos, ever watchfully, chuckled and inclined his head. “My Lord is fascinated by human methods of divination.”

“It’s true,” Diavolo nodded. “Tarot especially has always piqued my interest, but very rarely do I have time to indulge with the other witches who visit the Devildom.”

....Oh, they really couldn’t say no to the hopeful gleam in his eye. A man that large had no right to look that cute.

“Alright,” they handed him the deck of cards. It looked hilariously small in his hands. “Go ahead and shuffle them.”

“Oh, I get to do it?”

“If you want,” they shrugged. “I usually have whoever is being read for do the shuffling, so the deck can get a feel for their energy. Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

“No, this is exciting!” He really did look like he was having fun. “How many should I draw?”

“Just one, and we can go from there.”

With a focus that might have been a bit too intense, Diavolo began shuffling. He handled the deck carefully, which made them happy. So many people were rough with the cards, and they were always worried they were going to get ruined.

“Alright.” Diavolo laid a card face down on the table between them. “Would you like to do the honors?”

He was being dramatic, but they couldn’t help but play along. What was the harm in a little bit of fun? They flipped the card face up and let out a startled chuckle.

The Devil.

“Did you do that on purpose?” they asked, laughter dripping from their voice.

“No, honest!” Diavolo was laughing too. “What does the Devil card mean?”

“It means my deck has a sense of humor.”

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo

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prosopopeya · 3 years ago

Text

so you "love" me

a 12x11 au fic bc who can watch "regarding dean" and not want to insert cas? just a quick, breezy little thing bc i had dialogue rattling around in my head and had to get it out!

read on ao3 or right here on tumblr:

so you quote love unquote me. / well, stranger things have come to be. / but let's agree to disagree / 'cause i don't believe you

"Look, we could figure this out, okay? Don't go calling Mom or Cas with this."

"Dean, I love you, but that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

"Cas." Sam sounds relieved when he opens the door. "About time."

Before Castiel can move to step inside, though, Sam puts a hand on his shoulder and maneuvers him out of the way, revealing Rowena behind him.

"Hello, angel," she purrs.

"Can you watch Dean?"

"I--"

"Great. You're a lifesaver." Sam claps him on the shoulder and then he moves past him, Rowena in tow, though she pauses to reach up and pat his chest.

"Enjoy it while it lasts."

He watches them walk away, then steps into the motel room to see Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, watching cartoons. When he looks up at Castiel, his eyes brighten.

"Hi. Who are you?"

Castiel was informed--briefly--via a harried voicemail from Sam about Dean's memory loss, but still, Castiel's not quite sure what he was expecting.

"Are you hungry?" Castiel asks after changing the channel for Dean when he started to look at a loss for how to manipulate the volume again.

When he swivels his head to look at Castiel, there's something so achingly pure, so unconcernedly happy in his eyes, that Castiel's starting to understand what Rowena meant.

"Do you have food?"

"Well. I can order you food."

"That's an awesome idea. You have good ideas. And pretty eyes."

Castiel stops midway between pulling his phone out of his pocket. "What?"

"The rest of your face is pretty too. No--wait. Not the word I wanted." Dean stops and flicks his eyes up to the ceiling while he thinks, while Castiel is still frozen on the bed. Dean's face lights up in a smile as he turns back to him. "Hot. You're hot."

"Um." Castiel shouldn't read anything into that, he decides. "Thank you."

Dean grins again like Castiel has provided the correct response.

"Oh man, this is so good," Dean says through a mouthful of bacon cheeseburger forty minutes later.

"They're your favorite," Castiel reminds him, and Dean stops, considers that, then nods like he's accepting that as a fact.

"You're my best friend," he says, for the fifth time in forty minutes, with the same happy-go-lucky tone as he's had this entire time, but still, Castiel knows that underneath he's shaken and is trying to hold onto the pieces that he still has left.

"That's right."

"I guess I'm pretty lucky," Dean says, still chewing, and he swallows cartoonishly before he turns that smile on Castiel again. "I have a hot best friend."

That's the second time Dean's commented on that. Castiel pauses again.

"I suppose you do," he settles on, but Dean's already turned back to the television.

"Your eyes are really pretty."

"So you've said." This is now the tenth time; the charm is wearing off.

Castiel is standing at the window, looking out the blinds, spinning his phone around in his hand. Sam hasn't responded to his texts, and Castiel's starting to be concerned about whether or not he needs help, but Castiel has no details, no clue of where they could've gone, so what can he do but stand here and listen to Dean deteriorate behind him?

"Wanna make out?"

Castiel stops spinning his phone in his hand. He turns away from the window to find Dean watching him with placid, but interested eyes.

"What?"

"You know." Dean holds his arms up as if holding an imaginary person and mimes something that Castiel hopes isn't Dean's actual kissing technique. At Castiel's continued silence, Dean drops his arms and looks deflated. "We do that, right?"

Slowly, Castiel shakes his head. "No, Dean, we don't."

Dean considers that, and the resulting expression he makes is both confused and pouty. "Why not?"

Castiel resists the urge to laugh at the irony of Dean asking him that question. Why Castiel has to explain this situation.

"You don't want to," Castiel says.

Dean cocks his head again, frowning deeply. "That's not true."

Castiel lifts his eyebrow. "Between the two of us, I think my perspective on the situation is more reliable."

"Yeah, but," Dean puffs, leaning back on the bed. "I know, like, two things right now, and one of them is that I wanna make out with you. A lot."

Castiel's mind whirs. It doesn't mean what he wants it to mean, he reminds himself. Dean being interested in men isn't exactly new; Dean being interested in him isn't meaningful. Dean is operating on base Dean instincts, responding to base Dean wants and desires, letting himself indulge in what makes him happy without thought or consideration. The fact that it's Castiel, specifically, standing here maybe doesn't even matter at all.

"What's the other thing?" Castiel asks.

Dean inhales sharply as if he'd already forgotten the other thing. "There's one more slice of pie." And then he goes to grab it from the table.

"Dean." Castiel reaches over to snatch the pocketknife from him--the fifth one that Dean's discovered on his person. "No sharp objects."

The scolding bounces right off him though, and he kicks his feet as he glances around the room, his fingers drumming against his knee.

Castiel sighs heavily and scrubs his hand over his face. "I hope Sam doesn't take much longer."

"Sam is my brother," Dean says immediately, and Castiel nods his confirmation. "What's wrong?"

When he looks over at Dean, Dean is studying him, his feet still kicking against the bed, so that it shakes gently with each movement.

"I'm worried about you."

"You're my best friend," Dean says, and again, Castiel nods. Dean blinks at him, once. "Are you sure we don't kiss?"

That's the third time he's asked. Castiel gets up from the bed and paces away, back toward the window.

"I'm sure."

"That's crazy," Dean says. "I love you."

The air conditioner unit by the window makes a clanking sound, and outside, the vending machine buzzes, but just now, Castiel can't hear either of those sounds over the gentle thud of Dean's feet against the bed. Castiel turns, and Dean's watching his hands in his lap, opening and closing his fingers.

Castiel shouldn't take advantage. No--poor word choice. Castiel shouldn't trust. He shouldn't trust that Dean means what Castiel hopes he means just because Castiel hopes he means it. And the fact that Dean can say it now, but can't say it other times, should tell him a lot, too.

Still. Still, though. Castiel would like to tell him, at least once. Maybe he won't get another chance.

"I love you too."

When Dean whips his head up, the smile is incandescent. Castiel is reminded too deeply, too fiercely of a younger Dean, before the past few years hardened him, pushed him deeper into his trauma, farther away from the lightness he possessed even despite all the years of trauma that had come before.

"Yeah?" he asks, lit up from within.

Castiel feels himself tense all the way to the core of his grace, burning hot inside Jimmy's body--though sometimes in his more private, selfish moments, he thinks this particular body is his now, too.

"Yes," he admits on an exhale, if only to see Dean's smile widen. "Yes, Dean, I love you."

Dean grins, brightly, and then holds his hand up for a high five.

What feels like fifteen hours later, but probably was only another hour or so, Sam calls to say he and Rowena are on their way back. Castiel hangs up and feels such relief that for a second he's not sure he can breathe.

"What's up?" Dean is sitting next to him on the bed, his leg still swinging idly.

"Sam and Rowena are on their way back to fix you."

"Woo!" Dean pumps his fist in the air, and then he swoops in, and before Castiel realizes what's happening, Dean's hand is on his face and his lips are brushing against his own.

He jerks back, pulling out of Dean's touch. "Dean," he says, and it's meant to be a warning, or a scolding. He's not sure it sounds like that, in the end.

Dean tilts his head and frowns. "Bad?"

He can still feel the ghost of Dean's lips against his own, still warm even though they barely had a second to exchange warmth. Castiel turns away and squeezes his eyes shut.

"No. I-- It wouldn't be right."

"You don't want to?"

Afterward, Castiel will realize that he never even really considered lying. He looks over to Dean, wide open and hurt almost, like he's holding his breath, waiting to hear what Castiel says.

"You aren't in your right mind. I'd be taking advantage of you."

Dean's mouth opens and closes, and opens again, but before he finds anything to say, Castiel continues.

"Sam and Rowena will be back, and soon you'll be back to your normal self." He says it with conviction, with finality.

Dean studies him, silent, still, which already has Castiel on edge because this whole time Dean's been anything but silent and still--certainly not at the same time.

"What?" Castiel finally asks.

"If my normal self doesn't want this with you, then he's an idiot. And a dick."

Castiel swallows through a lump in his throat. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I don't?" The confusion is so gentle, so genuine. It cracks something in Castiel's chest; it cracks something so severely that he doesn't move, doesn't pull away, as Dean reaches his hand over and covers Castiel's.

"You're confused," Castiel says, softly, but still he doesn't move. Dean walks his fingers around until they slide between Castiel's own and then they're holding hands, sitting together on the bed, and Castiel feels powerless to pull away.

"I don't feel confused," Dean says softly back, a confession, almost, a question. Seeking confirmation, seeking answers, when Castiel doesn't have any for him.

So Castiel doesn't say anything. He watches their hands joined together on the bed, and he feels his heart racing, and he doesn't speak, and neither does Dean, which again is such a change from the rest of the day that Castiel knows there's something different in the air now. Dean inches closer; Castiel doesn't pull away. Their arms are touching, and now their shoulders, and now their hands are resting on Castiel's lap because one of them moved their hands to let Dean sit even closer.

When Castiel dares to look up, Dean is there--Dean is right there, close enough for Castiel to feel his breath, let alone to hear it, the soft inhale and exhale. When Dean starts to lean in, Castiel closes his eyes.

There's a sound at the door, keys in the lock.

Dean's up in a second, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he goes to the door. "Who's that?" he asks, light, cheerful.

Castiel watches him go and tries to calm the pounding in his chest.

"It's Sam and Rowena," he says, tired. "They're here to cure you."

"Thanks for everything," Sam is saying. Dean and Sam walked Castiel and Rowena out to their cars; she's already left, with a kiss to their cheeks that Castiel is still deciding if he finds charming or not. It's a pleasant distraction from trying to read Dean.

He's made no indication of whether or not he could remember anything from the past day; it didn't even occur to Castiel that he might until it was all over and Dean's been either staring at Castiel or pointedly not staring at Castiel ever since Rowena reversed the spell.

"Of course," he says, because of course. He gives Sam his best attempt at a smile while trying not to think about how Dean is staring at his shoes. "I'd... better get back to my search."

Sam nods and raises his hand in a wave as he takes a step back, and Castiel starts to turn too, fishing the keys out of his pocket.

"Hey, Cas. Wait a sec."

Castiel's heart stops, his hand halfway extended to unlock his door. Sam pauses too, but Dean glances over his shoulder and though their faces barely move, communication occurs because Sam nods at them both and then walks back to the room.

Neither he nor Dean speak until the door shuts behind Sam.

"Yes?" he asks, afraid already, the adrenaline in his vessel turning parts of himself cold and tingly and others on edge, ready to leap into action, which he imagines in this case would be more flight than fight.

"Sorry I was, uh," he starts, his eyes back on his shoes, "pushy. Back there. It's kind of hazy, but I remember--" He breaks off abruptly and when he sneaks a glance up at Castiel, he looks small again, hesitant and unsure.

"Don't apologize," Castiel says in a rush. "You weren't well. I didn't read anything into what you said."

The silence is heavy again, as they both work hard not to look at each other. Castiel feels it when Dean's gaze returns to him though, feels it burning a hole through him.

"Did you mean what you said?"

Castiel swallows thickly. "What-- What did I say?"

"That you--" Dean stops again. When he shrugs and says, "You know," he maybe means it to be lighthearted, but it's anything but.

"I'm not sure--" Castiel tries, but Dean rolls his eyes.

"Come on, man. You know what I'm talking about."

There is no other option here, no other thing he could say. "Yes. I meant it," he says, and he braces himself for whatever is about to come, for the rejection, for the end to their friendship.

Dean exhales, long and shaky. "Fuck."

"You don't have to--worry about it. I'm fine."

"Cas." Dean is exasperated, fond, and Castiel dares to look at him, his eyes a glittering, clear green in the cool light of the afternoon.

This is the moment where Castiel starts to think that maybe he doesn't have to brace himself; that maybe the rejection he was imagining isn't going to come after all. Dean's eyes drop to his lips, and then he blushes, high on his cheekbones as he skirts his eyes away, as he licks over his lips, as he gets that bashful and shy look on his face, in the curve of his shoulders. When he turns back to Castiel, he's smiling.

"There's something I didn't get to finish," he says.

Even though Castiel knows what the answer is, he asks, "What?"

Dean closes the gap between them, but when he leans in to kiss him, Castiel meets him halfway, his hand sliding up his shoulder.

#destiel fanfic #profoundnet #deancasfic #destielfic #first kiss #love confessions #regarding dean #temporary memory loss #cas pov #i've only seen the episode once.#should i have rewatched it? maybe.#my fic

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duuhrayliegh · 4 years ago

Text

dm slide

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, language, nothing else really, it’s just really fluffy i think

word count: 1905

a/n: okay so my other stuff is coming, i stg, i’m just in the middle of finals and moving out of my dorm, and starting a new job, so i’m a bit stressy right now, but i’m getting there loves.

so if this one isn’t as good as it could be that’s why, but i’m hoping to add on to it later

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

You were currently at your best friend’s birthday party, polishing off your third overfull glass of wine. Your best friend threw her hands above her head, shouting out “Shots on me!” She thrusted a shot glass in your hand, encouraging you to toss back the liquid. You set down your wine glass, picking up the smaller cup, not caring about the flashing cameras around you.

“I’m so glad you were able to get free from your oh so lavish lifestyle as a celebrity to come hang out with little ‘ol me!” She had to continue to shout for you to hear her over the loud music blasting through the club speakers. She grabbed your arm, pulling you towards the bathrooms. “Are you getting ready to go? The sound system is giving me a headache.” You smiled at her, grabbing your phone from your clutch.

“Absolutely, babes. Let me order the Uber and then we can go.” You held onto your phone tighter, walking up to the bar to settle your tab. “Hey, Gabe!” Gabe, one of the bartenders, turned to you.

“Hey, Y/N!” He went to grab a bottle of your favorite wine to uncork it, but stopped when you held your hand up.

“Just settling up and heading out.” You passed your black AmEx card over the counter to his waiting hand.

“You’re missin’ out, Y/N. The party is just getting started here.” You shook your head at the man.

“Nah, I’m celebrating my best friend’s birthday tonight, so this is her call.” He slid your card back to you, watching you push it into the slots of your clutch. “We’re getting outta here, but that doesn’t mean our party is ending.” You winked at him, meeting up with your companion. You linked arms with her, leading the way through the crowd. It was cold outside, which didn’t mean good things for you because of your almost too short dress. The Uber stopped beside the curb, rolling their window down for you to double check. You climbed in beside your friend, scooting closer to increase your warmth. The ride to your apartment wasn’t too long, thankfully because Uber’s creeped you out, no matter how safe you were.

Walking into your apartment was difficult to say the least. You both were stumbling the entire way to the elevator and then stumbling into your couch cushions. The two of you managed to make it to your bedroom, swapping out your tight garments for some more ill fitting attire. That was not before you took an absurd amount of photos together in your bathroom mirror. You sat across from each other on the black couch in your apartment, sifting through the pictures of the two of you. Your best friend was leaned over your shoulder, watching as you scrolled through.

“Oo! That one!” She pointed at the screen quickly, stopping your scrolling. It was of you holding the phone, leaning backward staring at the phone in your hand. Your best friend was facing you, her bare back displayed from the deep dip in the back of her dress. “We look so hot.” You both shared a look and then burst into a fit of laughter. You posted the picture to your Instagram, tagging your best friend in the corner, wishing her a happy birthday. She slid away from your, covering her lower half with a blanket.

“You want a water?” You asked as you rose from your spot on the couch. She smiled big at you.

“Can I convince you to mix up some margaritas?” Her bottom lip rolled inwards, waiting for your response. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head before opening your liquor cabinet. You pulled down bottles of triple sec and tequila, reaching into your freezer for the bag of strawberries and limeade. You brought your Ninja Bullet out to make individual margaritas for both you and your drunk friend. Walking back over to her with containers in hand, you plopped opposite her on the couch.

“You’re literally the bestest ever.” She slurped on the drink through her swirly straw. The conversation faded between the two of you, allowing the both of you to go through your socials. “Did you see that Lizzo got a message back from Chris Evans the other day?” You laughed at her question, remembering your reaction to Lizzo’s TikTok.

“Mhm. Can you imagine getting a reply back from one of those hunks of men?” She shook her head while guzzling her margarita.

“I can’t, but I bet you can.” You scrunch your brows at her and she groaned. “You’re a celebrity too, dumbass. Girl, the amount of times that I’ve gotta remind you of that is insane.” You laughed at her, rolling your eyes.

“Babes, just because I’m quote, unquote famous, doesn’t mean that I’m on their level.” She pointed a finger at you.

“Hey, just shoot your shot, Y/N.”

“I literally don’t even know which one I would DM.” Your best friend scoffed loudly.

“Bullshit!” You choked at how loud she yelled. “You don’t know who you would DM? I know who you would DM in a fucking heartbeat.” You looked over at her with raised brows and in unison you said. “Sebastian Stan.” “Sebastian Stan.”

“Mm, he is a six foot tall Romanian God.” You shook your head while fake moaning, your friend laughing in the background. She reached for your phone before you could protest, typing away on your keyboard, smiling mischievously. She thrust the phone back into your hands, the empty DM screen of imsebastianstan on Instagram staring back at you.

“All you gotta do is send something.” She smiled at you while you glanced down at your phone screen nervously. You began typing something quickly then locked the screen, placing it facing downward on your lap, a giggly smile resting on your face. She scooted closer to you, folding her legs up to her chin. “Wait! What did you say?” You unlocked your phone, showing her the screen. She laughed at your message, drinking the rest of her margarita.

y/n.y/l/n: hi, i’m y/n and you’re the love of my life ;) <3

“That’s so fucking good, oh my God.” She glanced at the clock on your phone. “Oh girl, we’ve gotta go to sleep.” You checked it as well, dropping your head into your hands.

“Mhm, you’re right.” You stood from your spot, holding your hand out to your friend to help her up. “Let’s go to sleep.” You both crashed on your king sized mattress underneath your white fluffy duvet. You were about to drift off to sleep, when your best friend’s voice floated into your ears.

“Do you think he’s gonna reply to you?” Her voice was slurring more and more from the amount she drank and the sleep weighing on her mind. You smiled at her, it was a long shot that he would even see it, much less reply.

“We’ll have to see, babes.” She didn’t reply to you as you both fell off into a dreamless abyss.

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

The sun streaming into your room woke you up in the morning, light hitting your eyelid just right. You blinked harshly, bringing your hand up to block the glare. A groan escaped your lips, stretching out from your best friends grip. “Fuck me.” You held your head in your hand, groaning about the headache blossoming at the nape of your neck. You left the bed, pulling a sweater over your tank top to catch some warmth. You tucked your phone into the waistband of your shorts. You padded into the kitchen, grabbing your Advil bottle, dumping two pills into your hand. You got a glass of water, settling down on the couch after gulping down the headache medicine.

You opened your phone while basically inhaling your water. Your memories of last night were fuzzy, you drank quite a bit. Did you drink too much? Maybe… but did you regret it at all? Not a second of it. You had the best time hanging out with your best friend. You check your Instagram post, replying to several different comments. A red bubble was pinned over your DM button in the corner. You tilted your head in curiosity, wondering who messaged you now. You swiped over, eyes widening at the new message.

imsebastianstan: Hi, Y/N. I’m Sebastian, thank you for professing your love to me.

The feeling of panic running through your veins didn’t last long, A gigantic smile spread accompanied by a giggle. What the fuck do you do now? Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard, thinking through what you want to say back.

y/n.y/l/n: hello sebastian, what do ya say we figure out if it’s a match :)

You sent the message before you could chicken out, locking the phone shortly after, shoving it in your waistband. You got up, refilling your glass of water, leaning against your granite countertop, tapping your fingers impatiently. You squealed as you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket.

imsebastianstan: What do you have in mind?

y/n.y/l/n: 917-555-0545 <3

Oh my god, you can’t believe you just did that. Holy shit, what are you thinking? Maybe this will all work out in your favor. You really had nothing to lose but your dignity, right? A disturbance in the peace to the right of your caught your attention.

“Why the hell are you up so early? We drank last night, that’s an excuse to sleep in, you fuck baffoon.” Her hair was tousled on top of her head, shirt hanging off one shoulder. You turned your phone around, thrusting it towards her face.

“There’s been recent developments on the Stan front.” Her brows raised, face becoming shocked.

“Oh. My. God. Are you fucking serious?” She snatched the phone away from your hand quickly to scroll through the messages. “You gave him your number?” She yelled at you as she stretched across the couch, laying her head in your lap. Your phone buzzed in her hands and her eyes widened to unbelievable proportions. “Bitch, you just got a text from an unsaved number.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You looked at the phone in her hands. “I didn’t think he was actually going to text me, I sent it as a joke! What’s it say?”

“How are we going to figure this out?” You both shared a look, shrieking enthusiastically. “Y/N! Sebastian Stan texted you!” She jumped up and down on your couch, pulling you up with her.

“What do I say back?” You held the phone against your chest, staring expectantly at your best friend. She shook her head at you.

“Nuh-uh girl. This is all you.” She held her hands up in surrender. You looked down at your keyboard, the blinking cursor waiting for instructions.

“Okay, okay, how ‘bout, ‘discuss over coffee?’” You looked at your best friend for approval, still standing on your couch. You sent the message after she nodded. A message bubble popped up, three blinking dots inside.

There’s a coffee shop on 8th street, just outside of Washington State Park.

wanna meet up around three?

I’ll be there, Y/N.

You turned to your best friend, holding the phone to your chest. “Babes.” She raised her brows, waiting. “I have a fucking date with Sebastian Stan!” You both squealed, excited for what would happen on your date.

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bisexualwannabewriter · 3 years ago

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“This is killing me” Part Nineteen (Final Chapter) - Spencer Reid x female reader

Summary : You’re working for the BAU, and Dr Spencer Reid is your best friend on the team. Actually, he’s your best friend, pErIoD. The thing is, you’re not supposed to feel that way about your best friend. He makes you feel some type of way, everyone in the team can see it, except you and him.

In the previous chapter, after confessing your feelings to Spencer, he reciprocated. You never thought it’d ever be possible, but your bestfriends does love you back. What followed can only be described as absolute unadulterated smut. (I’m super disappointed, I don’t think I posted the last part at the right time so it really went unnoticed, which suck, because it’s like the culmination of the entire series ! Please go give a read :))

You can find all the previous chapters here

Chapter Summary : You’ve been as honest as you could ever be, with your words, but also with your body. After finally sleeping together (only took eighteen chapters), you and Spencer completely put your guard down. You’re in love, and you want to be together. You always have. What does the future hold, for the both of you ?

TW : sexual content, mentions of gun violence, emotional distress, a bit of angst. It’s pretty fluffy, and there’s a nice little full circle moment. This series is my first creation that I posted, so it holds a special place in my heart. Thanks for reading me Tumblr people :)

It took a while for the both of you to come back to your senses. Your bodies were still tangled together, chests heaving, covered in sweat and marks that would later darken. You were just looking at each other with pure adoration. "Are you okay ?" Spencer asked, while gently caressing your face, and getting your hair out of the way. "Are you kidding me ? I've never been better Spence. I could cry because of how happy I am right now. But that would ruin the whole mood, right ? Like, you have the most amazing sex of your life, and then you just start bawling ?" The two of you softly laughed. Spencer let a minute pass, before he added "Sooo... the most amazing sex of your life, huh ?" You took a pillow to hit him with it. You felt so comfortable. Everything was familiar, and at the same time it wasn't. It felt good. It felt right. He held you in his arms, and you thought you were going to fall asleep right there. You were exhausted. The party, admitting to loving him, the sex... It had been an intense night. You still weren't entirely sure this wasn't a dream. The magnitude of it all would probably hit you in the morning.

But you heard Spencer say "I love you, y/n. I've loved you for as far as I can remember. Even Gideon knew." He hesitated before continuing "I-I never told you this, but huuuh... in the letter he gave me, before leaving, there was a part I never talked about to anyone on the team. He said, quote unquote : that new girl, y/n, you're going to marry her one day, I'm calling it now." It took you a hot minute to assimilate what he had just said. You playfully punched him in the arm, answering "Jesus Spencer, we couldn't admit we were in love for the longest time, and now that we've had sex, you're talking marriage ??" He burried his face in his pillow, trying to hide from you. You kissed him on the neck, trying to hold back the gigantic smile that was creeping in, and said "Don't be embarassed, Spence. I'm playing with you. Look at me" He finally looked at you. "I'm so in love with you , Spencer Reid." He gently kissed your lips, before saying "You said I didn't do anything wrong. That's not true, y/n. I messed up too. I'm not gonna let you take the blame for how long it took the two of us to be together." You didn't want to hear it. It was perfect, everything was exactly how it was supposed to be. You tried to cut him off, but he continued.

Once he started talking, he couldn't stop. You knew how that felt. When you had been holding onto a secret for so long, and it was finally out in the open, it felt like an overflowing tap that you couldn't stop anymore, even if you tried your hardest. It had to come out, it had to be said, otherwise it wouldn't be real. It wouldn't be entirely true. "Let me tell you this. Let me repay your honesty. Okay ? I messed up with this whole Maggie situation. I just... I tried to show you you meant more to me than just a friend. I could have told you how I felt more clearly, but I was scared too. Terrified even. We've been through the most dangerous situations someone could possibly be in, with our job. Yet telling you how painfully in love I was with you, felt like the most frightening perspective in the world. There was a point where I almost believed what the rest of the team told me, where I actually envisioned the possibility you might reciprocate my feelings. I wish I hadn't been such a coward. I just... I couldn't stand the eventuality that I might lose you in the process. You've meant more to me than you'll ever possibly understand. I need you in my life, y/n. You're my guardian angel, and when you shot that woman back there, it wasn't the first time you saved my life. I don't know how I got so lucky, meeting you." You were overwhelmed with a love so intense in that moment, you felt like melting into him, and never letting go. Your soul and his had been drawn to one another for the longest time, and now there was no way in hell anything could ever separate you again. Nothing had made more sense than you two together. Words failed you, so you just brushed his lips with yours, before deeply kissing him, hoping he could feel what you couldn't say out loud. He continued : "So when I believed you loved me back... then you'd... I don't know. You'd act in a way I couldn't understand. You always seemed so angry with me. You avoided me. I get it, now. I understand how much you were struggling, because I felt the same." He held your face with both of his hands, giving you the most apologetic look you had ever seen. " I knew nothing I could do would make me stop loving you, but I had to try anyway. I was in pain, y/n. And Maggie showed up. I... I kind of liked her, it's true. I won't deny it. I..." You tried to listen without saying anything, or letting him see how much this whole experience was still hurting like a fresh wound, but you couldn't help how expressive your face was when he was talking to you. You were the worst liar when it came to Spence, you had always been, and yet it still took him so long to realise the true nature of your feelings for him. Best profilers in the world, huh ?

He saw something in your eyes that made his heart break, not wanting to see you in any kind of pain whatsoever, so he quickly continued : "I wanted a way out, I wanted to stop this. I thought I could smother my love for you with someone else, but that's never a good idea, is it ? You drag other people into your mess because you can't even confront the truth. That night when she called me, I don't know what I was expecting. Truly, I let the whole thing play out without really thinking. I oversimplified everything, or at least I tried. I'm not good at keeping things simple. I thought, this woman wants to go on a date with me, and she's..." You tried to reassure him "It's okay Spence, go on." You couldn't blame him for really being into her, when you went through a similar situation with you ex Ben. It stung, but you had to listen.

"She was pretty great. And honest. And I hate that I felt this way, but you seemed to care. You seemed invested in my relationship with her. Any reaction from you , anything you would give me that showed you actually... I don't know. You seemed jealous, and a small part of me liked it. I hate that I liked it. I would never actively try to hurt you, I need you to know that. Never in a million years, y/n... I love you so much." You would never get tired of this sentence coming out of his mouth. Everytime, it felt like the first time you heard it, and it send your heart in a crazy frenzy that made your knees weak. You stroke his cheek reassuringly, encouraging him to continue. "I don't know what I was hoping for. I knew you didn't like her. I just... I was waiting for a sign from you , something real, something that would force me to stop. Something so obvious I could finally be certain you felt the way I felt. I had to have a proof, something... Anything. It's like our job, right ? You can't gamble with vague theories and hopes and dreams. You have to work with something tangible, in order to carry on with the investigation. When I didn't get it, I just forced myself into thinking my love was unrequited. I got tired of getting my heart broken, over and over again. I almost gave up on us, and I am so, so very sorry y/n. I felt so empty inside, and I... Even with everything that happened, even if I tried to move on, I couldn't. I was stuck on you. I terribly missed you throughout the holidays. Even my mom asked about you. She could sense it, I think. She asked where my "girlfriend" was. That's always what she called you. Eventually, I stopped rectifying her." You had accompanied Spencer on his visits to his mom a couple of time, and you smiled a little, because your presence didn't even stop her from calling you that. You loved Diana. You loved spending time with the two of them. It felt natural. She was a fascinating woman to listen to, so articulate, so intelligent, and so cultivated. And she loved her son more than anything in the world. You knew their relationship was a complex one, but love always prevailed. Same as you two.

"But she wasn't you. Simple as that. As amazing as that woman was, her biggest flaw was that she just... She wasn't the right person. I... I thought about you, when we kissed, y/n. Does that make me a terrible person ?" He didn't give you time to answer, and continued "I was trying to relax, to take my mind off of you. But you... you haunt me, y/n. I was thinking too hard about it, and the only moment where I kind of relaxed, was when I just... I let go of all resistance, and I went along with that little fantasy that was playing in my head. I imagined you, your lips, your hands..." As he was telling you this, his fingers traced your lips, your neck, your arm, to finally rest on your hand. He held it tightly, and followed by saying "I don't really know what happened, but I think she made a sound, a little happy sigh. Or maybe she said something. I was so lost in this little dream of mine, I don't know. She didn't do anything wrong, but that sound... it just, it brought me back to reality, and when I opened my eyes, you weren't there." You almost felt sorry for Maggie. She suspected something was going on between the two of you, and yet you answered like a fucking coward when she asked you about it. She wasn't dumb at all, on the contrary. If Spencer didn't end up telling her what was really going on on the phone, she probably came to the right conclusion on her own. It was almost ridiculous, how everyone was so aware of the truth, way before the two of you. You thought about your team, and tried to imagine what their reactions would be to you two finally being together. Knowing Derek and Penelope, they wouldn't play it cool. Nope, they were so dramatic, they might even prepare a bottle of champagne to celebrate. The idea made you smile. They were family. You felt like you truly had it all, in this moment.

Spencer and you kept on talking for a long time. You shared every single thoughts you had, up until that blessed night. The conversation Spencer tried to avoid when you first started to study Alice Buchanan's case, the phone call from Maggie, the ultimate confrontation with Buchanan, and all the rest. You went over everything from the very beginning, trying to be as open and honest as you possibly could. You felt light, relieved from a weight that was crushing your heart and your soul. You had never known such bliss, such simplicity, such perfection. You were finally in the arms of the man you loved more than life itself.

"So huh... how are we going to play this, tomorrow ?" Spencer eventually asked. The banality of that question made you chuckle a little. "Mmh, I don't know, maybe we should keep it a secret." You teased. Spencer first looked hurt and shocked, but when he saw the look on your face, he relaxed and smirked a little. "Yeah, 'cause we've always been sooo good at hiding our feelings, right ? Why stop ?" You laughed, and answered "Best kept secret in the history of the Bureau. FBI's finests, right there. Seriously though, the second we're gonna walk through those doors, I'm pretty sure it'll be written all over our faces. We won't even have to say a thing." Spencer added "Yeah, I can already hear Derek from here. And Garcia, my God. Tomorrow's gonna be fun. I can't wait to get there with you as... as my girlfriend. That sounds so weird. And yet so right. I swear to you, I couldn't stand to call you my bestfriend anymore." You smiled so hard you were sure it made you look stupid, but hey, you were the happiest you had ever been, so stupid was fine with you. "Oh my God, same here ! ... And yes I'll be your girlfriend, by the way. Look at us, being all cheesy and shit already." He was smiling really hard too, and you couldn't stop staring at the gorgeous man in front of you. His beauty would never stop to take your breath away.

This time, instead of cursing his name, asking him to go fuck himself for looking so perfect, you thought "Thank you for having such a pretty side profile. Thank you for being so adorable without even trying. Thank you for making me want to be near you so much. Thank you for making me feel all those things for you. Thank you for making me fall in love with you so hard, and thank you for reciprocating. Thank you for the beautiful future we have ahead of us. Thank you, Spencer Reid, for making me the happiest woman alive."

The End

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