#and dustys in my lap..i was gonna get up but ill stay for a bit

[revirushifaa]

Sweet Memories

Summary: One night when Lucifer is checking old books for paperwork that he needs done, he stumbles with an old photo album with his angel years with the rest of his brothers. Leviathan is the only brother he knows being awake, so he calls him to check them with him.

Note: These are my headcanons on how the bros were as angels. Satan is not there for obvious reasons, these events happened before the Celestial War, so Satan is non-existent there.

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"Where could I have put it? Hm..." Lucifer mused as he was searching for some old documents that could help him with the paperwork he was currently doing, late night and busy as ever, he was given the chance to rest but he decided to work instead.

"Hm? Hey, this is..." when he spotted a certain book, he stopped his search and picked it up, the book was a bit dusty, so he blew it and wiped it off with his gloves, seeing what the book was about, he sighed softly.

His angel years with his brothers, that was the photo album that they all agreed to have as memories for when they had their previous life. Lucifer flipped the book open and began looking at the pictures, a small smile crossing his features. All his brothers as little angels.

He had an idea, he grabbed his D.D.D and texted Leviathan.

'Levi, can you come to my room?'

Levi was likely still awake having a marathon of his favorite anime. He, however felt his phone vibrated and pulled it out, blinking.

"Lucifer wants to see me? Wonder what he wants."

He wasn't all that nervous since he and Lucifer had very positive bonding times just the two of them, he paused his anime and got up, sending an 'on my way' text back to Lucifer. He knocked on the eldest's door.

"Lucifer, I'm here."

The door was open and Lucifer greeted his younger brother with a small smile.

"Come in, Levi."

Levi walked in, as the door behind him closed behind and took a seat on a couch in Lucifer's room.

"Remember this?"

Levi's eyes widened at seeing the photo album. "No way! You have our photo album! I never thought, you would save that..."

"I did of course. I could never let these memories go lost in space... the only memories of being a angel that I would never forget." Lucifer nodded, showing the pictures to his brother. Levi looked at them with a certain fondness, he had to admit, these moments were really magical, they all were very close as angels, but didn't mean now as demons they were not anymore, they still were brothers, but some differences were in the way, still though, they appreciated one another in their own way.

"Oh this one photo..." Levi looked at the picture. It was one when he was just a few years born, like four. He was afraid of swinging in a swing that was put their merely for the little angels' fun. "I was so frightened, until you swung with me, Lucifer, I didn't even want to swing with Mammon, but you." he chuckled a bit. "Guess, I was a bit of a skiddish baby angel."

Lucifer chuckled. "Yes, only with me, you were able to cast your fear away. Look at that, I still remember as if it was just yesterday you were born, you're so grown up, little brother..." he sighed, where had time gone to. His brother was an adult demon, not that sweet shy little angel of the picture.

Levi looked embarrassed. "Lucifer, please, you're embarrassing me.." he couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed at his brother's words, but smiled fondly the picture, remembering how it went.

Long, long ago...

"What's that?" Little angel Leviathan asked, as he stared at the new structure while he was hiding behind Mammon.

"It's just a swing, Father ordered for it to be put for our fun! I think it's awesome, wanna try it, Levi?" Mammon asked his little brother, turning around a little to see him.

"N-no, thanks. Seems dangerous." Levi shook his head, refusing to go on and sit on the swing in front of him.

"Oh, c'mon, Levi! It'll be much fun!" The white-haired angel moved to pick up his little brother, who squirmed in his hold and cried.

"No, no, no! Put me down, Mammon! Put me DOWN!" He wailed, his eyes pricking with tears at the corners.

"What seems to be the matter." A deep voice asked behind the angels. Angel Lucifer had come to check on his little brothers, seeing Levi crying in Mammon's arms.

"Mammon, put Leviathan down, he is scared. You should not force him to do something he does not not want to do." Lucifer ordered, folding his arms and eyeing his second brother disapprovingly.

Mammon pouted and placed, sobbing little Levi down. "But I just wanted to show him the swings and swing with him! I wasn't even hurting him, Lucifer!"

"Yes, I know that. But, he does not want that." The older angel stated as he approached his brothers and crouched down to Levi, putting a hand on his head, speaking softly to him. "Levi, it is alright, it is just a swing." He held his small hand.

Levi sniffled and looked up at his brother. "It won't hurt me?"

"No, it will not," Lucifer cleaned up Levi's teary eyes with his thumb and smiled gently down at him. "Would you like to try it? I will go with you." Unlike how Mammon asked him, Lucifer didn't immediately pick him up to put him there by force, he used words first, instead of actions.

Seeing that his wise older brother was asking him gently first, Levi nodded his head a little. "Okay, but, Lucifer, go with me."

"Of course, brother mine, I will go."

The older angel led the younger angel by the hand to the swing and let him see him, not urging him to sit on if he didn't want to. Levi let go of his brother's hand and moved slowly to the swing, lightly poking it, seeing it didn't do a thing to him back. But he didn't want to sit on, still unsure of it.

"Do you want me to sit with you, brother?" Lucifer offered him and Levi thought for a moment, before nodding, trusting him. Lucifer picked him up gently, sitting down on the swing, placing Levi on his lap, holding him with an arm around the child's chest, and holding onto the side of the swing with his free arm.

"Mammon, can you push us?"

"Yes, I can!" Cheerily, Mammon moved forward and started pushing Lucifer in the swing with Levi.

"W-woooooooaaaah! I can see our room from here!" Levi squeaked, seeing the sight before him as he went back and forth.

Lucifer chuckled. "Impressive, right? This is what you see when you swing." He replied gently, holding securely onto the swing and his brother.

"And I can push you the highest, you haven't seen a thing yet, brothers!" Mammon giggled with a grin, and pushed the other angels as high as he could.

Levi kept aweing as Lucifer calmly swung with him, replying to anything the child told him, having much fun. He was a teenager angel, but he didn't mind being around his kid brothers, that was what he enjoyed doing, he was their big brother and as their big brother, he promised to be with them always.

A picture was taken without the brothers' knowledge, one that would be saved as a very dear memory.

Present time

Levi sighed as he remembered how that went. "Lucifer, this memory is by far my favorite one. There's more I know... but this one, makes it very special." He smiled, looking at his kid self holding onto the swing with his brother, he looked so excited and Mammon happily pushing them from behind.

Lucifer had also remembered the memory, a look full of fondness as he sighed. "Sometimes I wish things were like those times again, where we didn't have to worry about a thing, just of living and staying together... will never forget these wholesome times." He flipped the pages and smiled softly, at the next picture.

"Ah, look at this one, you fell ill and I had to stay behind to care for you, missing the feast with the other brothers. You were a little older here."

Levi smiled back. "I was like ten/eleven, can't remember but, I felt happy you cared too much for staying with me." He really did, Lucifer's will was to stay with him until he got better with his cares.

Long, long ago

"Where is Leviathan?" Lucifer asked his younger brothers, he was holding his infant sister Lilith in arms. "The feast is starting soon and we cannot go without him."

"Last I checked, he was still sleeping. I didn't want to wake him up, so I let him sleep more." Mammon replied, he was holding little baby angel Belphie in arms while Asmo had Beel in his own arms.

Lucifer frowned softly. "Still in bed? Odd for him, normally he's up at the same time as Mammon... I will go check on him." He gently put Lilith in Mammon's arms. "Watch Lilith, too." He instructed as Mammon adjusted the infant angel in arms, so she fit in as he was holding Belphie at the same time.

Lucifer walked inside the temple and to his brother's room, knocing in softly. "Levi?" He called and waited. When he got no answer, he opened the door and stepped inside, seeing his brother still in bed. He walked over to him and placed his hand on his forehead to wake him, frowning concerned, seeing he had a fever.

"Oh no. This can't be good." His brother had a fever, that meant it was some heavenly flu that he came down with.

Levi groaned and slowly opened his eyes. "L-Lucifer...? Is it the feast already?" his voice was hoarse.

"Almost, but you aren't well, are you?"

Levi shook his head. "I feel hot and very yucky." He had bas taste because of his cold.

Lucifer frowned. "You have heavenly flu, brother mine. You cannot get out of bed like this."

"B-but what about the feast?! Father's not gonna be happy with me skipping it, you know how he is..." Levi bit his lip a little.

Lucifer shook his head. "No. I will tell him you caught a cold, and I will stay behind to take care of you until you get better."

Levi smiled feebly. "Thank you, big brother... you're so nice to me."

Lucifer ruffled his indigo hair and sent a message by thought to his Father, explaining everything to him. Then nodded when he was immediately replied.

"Do not worry, Levi. Father knows now and he will not be mad for skipping the feast, I will stay here with you." He said reassuringly, then stood. "I just have to tell the rest of our siblings that we won't be joining them in the feast."

At Levi's nod, the older angel left the room to see his other siblings and spoke to them.

"Listen, everyone. Levi is ill with heavenly flu and won't be joining us. I will stay behind and take care of him, the rest of you will go to the feast with no exception."

"Do we take our baby siblings there? Beel and Belphie can eat solids now, but Lilith is merely born a few hours ago, what should she eat while all of us are eating?" Mammon asked, a little thoughtful.

"Feed the twins with bland food, there should be bottles of milk for our sister. Your caretaker, Uriel will take you to the feast and watch over you, while I'm with Levi. Now, behave yourselves and do not cause any sort of trouble, or there will be consequences. You don't wish to upset Father either." Lucifer said to the rest of the little angels and they all nodded at him or rather Mammon and Asmo, for the last of the siblings were still very young to speak clearly.

Pleased with their answers, Lucifer whirled to stay with sick little Levi and sat by his bed side. "I am here, Levi." he assured softly, rubbing his hot forehead.

"Big brother, I feel yucky..." Levi whimpered, being the sensitive little brother, he was beginning to whine at being sick.

"Shh, shh, do not speak much, sleep," Lucifer hushed him softly. "Do you want me to sing a lullabye to you?"

Levi nodded, his brother's soothing voice helped him calm down easily. Lucifer cleared his throat and began singing to his little brother, holding his hand.

"Little brother mine,

Hush now, close your eyes,

Dream of a wonderful world with all of us,

Little brother mine,

Hush now, lay your head close to my chest,

You will dream peacefully, not a single nightmare,

Little brother mine,

Hush now, sleep tightly, tightly..."

When he was done singing, Lucifer turned to look at Levi and he was once again sleeping, his little hand holding his tightly and the older angel smiled warmly, reaching over and planting a brotherly kiss to his head. That lullabye was sung to him when he was a mere baby, he sung it to Mammon and Levi when they were little infants, and still sung it to them and the rest of his siblings, only changing the lyrics when it was sung to Lilith.

"Sleep well, get well soon, little brother mine..."

Present time

"Lucifer..." Levi suddenly mumbled. Lucifer turned to him from the book.

"Yes?"

"What changed you to who you are now? You were so caring, rarely even yelled or punished us like how you do now..." Lucifer sighed. He knew he would be asked that question eventually, so he was honest with his answer, not telling a single lie.

"I turned strict because of your own good and the others... you all needed a firm hand in discipline, not just gentleness or not consequences at all. I... I would not take it to see any of you go forever for any rash behavior... you all are very important to me... all of you. Even if I'm hard as a rock or unmoving... you will always be my little brothers, nothing will ever change that."

Leviathan understood the need to be more firmer now that they all were demons, when they were angels they didn't do any mischief as the one most of them did nowadays.

"Yeah, I get that, I just miss your old caring you so much..."

Lucifer wrapped an arm around Levi's shoulders. "I'm still caring, you all just don't know when I do it and I prefer doing it secretly." He explained, squeezing Levi's shoulder.

"Hm. Well, I should be grateful you still show me the same care as when I was a tiny angel, thank you, Lucifer..." shyly, Levi admitted earning a quick chuckle from Lucifer.

"Don't mention it, brother mine. Still want to see more photos?"

"Yeah, absolutely."

And both brothers kept watching more pictures of sweet memories and remembering the sweet and dear moments that they had back at the Celestial Realm.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me lilith #no satan #mentions of lilith as a baby angel #mizu's writing #headcanons #angel brothers #angel brothers before they turned into demons #before the celestial war #fluff

[doctors-star]

cowboys? cowboy content?? our sweet sweet traumatised cowfolks? pray tell what you have dreamt up for them

yeehaw

She sits very still and perspires gently, hands folded neatly in her lap. The clock ticks methodically on the mantelpiece, polished to a houseproud shine and sitting alone on a doily like a butte in the desert; in the visions she and her brother had shared, there had been more indulgences in her home than just the one brass carriage clock, the good kid gloves and the polished Windsor chairs, but that could all wait. Her husband, she had found, was not the type of man to make a great many purchases, and whilst he is unwell she can hardly go about spending money on anything but food and medicine for her poor darling.

There is a cough in the other room, harsh and bloody, and she shifts slightly on her chair. There will be time for that later, anyhow.

For now, she is restricted to sitting here in the front room with her knees together and hair neatly pinned away at the base of her skull as she waits in the oppressive, dusty heat. The wind is blowing from the southwest, carrying desert sands up with it towards the prairie, so there’s no chance of opening a window today to shift the air; in between the resolute, monotonous ticking, she can hear sand tapping at the glass and at the boards like a thousand ghostly fingertips, scratching to get in. But her house is one of neatness and cleanliness and pristine, precise pride, so there shall be no entrance for any ghosts or spirits here.

Noelle salts and burns her choices, careful lest they rise. Danser Town will be no different.

The door behind her opens with cautious, quiet motions - she has become used to the sound over the long weeks of her husband’s terrible illness as she sweeps from room to room without disrupting the patient. She turns and stands in one quick, nervous motion, but she has been sat still too long: it is less pretence than she would like that she sways dizzily, vision spotting for a moment. There is a careful hand under her elbow, but no more, and when she leans into it a little another hand catches her other shoulder to hold her steadily at arm’s length. Noelle recovers herself, eyelashes fluttering, and reaches up a hand to fan at her face. “My, this heat! I do apologise.”

“Indeed,” Williams says tightly, hands lingering about her arms disinterestedly to ensure she keeps her feet. “Will you sit? Or may I fetch you some water?”

“Please,” she says, gesturing through to the kitchen. Williams, politely, waits for her to enter first, to seat herself at the table in one of the good Windsor chairs, to direct him in the pouring of a glass of sharp, flavourful lemonade. He declines to take one himself. “But you must tell me,” she says, sipping her cool drink and watching him through her lashes, “how does my dear Tobias?”

Williams shifts his weight, resting his hands on the back of the seat he also declined to take. “Ma’am, you know I am not a doctor,” he prefaces carefully.

She does know. She would not have let this man cross her threshold otherwise.

He drums his fingers on the wooden hoop and she braces to respond to bad news. “Your husband is getting worse,” he says firmly, eyes fixed on his own hands, “and there is nothing I can do - ah, nothing I can give him that will make him better.”

Her little gasp echoes in the quiet. Noelle pats at her cheeks with a handkerchief; Williams, politely, looks away. “Is there really nothing you can do?” she presses, playing the dutiful, caring wife almost by rote, now. “You are sure - there is no medicine, no-”

Williams’ gaze snaps to her. It is not so much the spitting fury in his glare that makes her recoil, fingers floating defensively to her sternum, as surprise at it coming from this corner. Will Williams has always been small and polite and harmless, prone to tipping his hat politely at people, and listening to old folks gripe about aches and pains, and crouching on rocks in the river for hours to look at plants and fish and things nobody else cares for. She sees him most often swept up in the dust cloud which follows Holden, Morin and McPherson as they roll all unruly about the town, and maybe it’s only in comparison to them that Williams looks so deeply unthreatening - but the man lets little children push him around, so. She does not think it unreasonable that she had not expected his ire.

“I can advise him to take some morphine for the pain,” Williams says, very slow and measured in a voice like banked coals, “and to watch what he eats and drinks. More than that, for either of you, I will not do.”

Noelle feels abruptly very cold. There is no sound but the distant ticking, an occasional violent cough from the back room, and the sand tapping at the glass like so many revenant ghosts.

Dying does not make a universal sound for all folks. You can’t listen out for it, no matter what some preachers might say; ain’t no choirs of angels, no whispering ghosts, no knocking at your chamber door. People die in so many ways, see, and it takes them all different. Sometimes death sounds like gunshots and screaming, sometimes like long, drawn-out silence and rattling, bloody coughs.

And sometimes, death sounds like watch what he eats and drinks. More than that I will not do.

Noelle sits frozen, her fate hanging from threads in this strange, nervous man’s thin fingers. Williams glances at the window, and sighs deeply. He steps around and folds himself into the chair, looking much smaller now he no longer looms over her like some great spindly crow. “Tommy reckoned I never should have come out to attend Mr Lloyd,” he says conversationally, turning in his seat to pour himself a glass of lemonade which he places on the table but does not drink. “He doesn’t like your husband awful much. Some daughter of a friend of an aunt, or something, used to char here before you married, fixing meals and scrubbing the boards and such. Mr Lloyd, he - well. I understand that her sweetheart was the doting type, see, so it shook out in the end, only they had to get her out to his place in the city awful fast and they married in an embarrassing hurry. People’ll always whisper that that baby doesn’t look like his pa, though.” Will pushes his glasses up his nose and leans back in his chair to fold his arms and watch her carefully, trying to work out if she had known that. If that, or something like it, was what excused the little labelless bottle behind the tin of tea. Noelle schools her features and attempts to look more unsurprised than she is. She would have expected something poor of Tobias, but nothing quite like this. She had known no specifics. Williams raises an eyebrow briefly at whatever he finds in her face. “Tommy only let me come see Mr Lloyd because I said I’d look in on you and make sure he wasn’t knocking you about any.”

Noelle raises an eyebrow in challenge, sipping her drink. “Do you worry about that, Mr Williams?”

He doesn’t cower or dodge her gaze, which she doesn’t quite expect. “I worry about plenty, Mrs Lloyd,” he says calmly, “but I don’t worry so much about you getting into a situation you couldn’t get out of on your own. Incidentally, Tommy’s gonna swing by and pick me up in-” he leans the chair back on two legs to peer at the carriage clock in the other room “-well, any time from now, since he’s late.”

Noelle hides a smirk in her lemonade. She must admit to quite liking this side of the town’s nervous naturalist; Holden would likely skin poor Williams if he knew what Will knew, and what Will was doing anyway. It was smart of him to bring a buddy, but it meant that he had known even before today what she was doing, and he had come anyway. “You’ve awful confidence in me,” she says, batting her eyelashes to see what he’d do, “for a little lady on her own. Why, as my husband is ill, I haven’t even got a strong man to take care of me.”

Will’s brow furrows slightly in apparent confusion in response to her slight flirtation. “No, you don’t,” he says, as though unsure what that should have to do with anything.

The surprise of it makes her laugh despite herself, though that does seem to worry Williams a little. He keeps turning the lemonade, undrunk, between his fingertips, making it rattle slightly on the table, and his eyes frequently dart to the clock on the mantelpiece to note how late his friend is. It loosens her tongue somewhat; Noelle is so frequently entirely honest with people, and it is oddly refreshing to stop talking in double meanings and half truths. She wants him to stay longer in this oddly honest space, where she had never really imagined herself being, and tell him so.

It reminds her of talking to Jonah, a bit, even though a man more unlike Jonah than Will Williams there never has been. Everything seems to remind her of Jonah, now that he’s gone.

“I had thought, once,” she says, watching his face but keeping her tone light, “that when a widow I might marry you.”

As expected, Williams looks poleaxed - quite blindsided by the idea. “I - don’t think you would have,” he says stiltedly.

She waves a hand. “Oh, not now, obviously.” She couldn’t possibly marry a man who has something to hold over her. Noelle could rule Will well enough, but - there was that flash of rage at being made her alibi, her dupe, and he could always ruin her.

“No, I mean - I wouldn’t have-” Will winces and tilts his head, uncomfortable. “I’m not - the marrying type, I think.”

Oh. Noelle shrugs; she could have made that work, too, but it would have been a terrible effort to drag him to the altar, and likely not worth it. “And your Tommy Morin - is he the marryin’ type?” she says, laying the implication on thick. “Or is it Finn Holden? McPherson, now, he’d be disappointing an awful lot of ladies, but…”

The blush spreads from his cheeks at speed, turning his fair northern complexion blotchy and red. “All my friends are morons,” he tells her flatly. “Would you marry ‘em?”

Noelle tilts her head to concede the point. “Naw, you always were the best prospect of the bunch.” Will goes, if possible, yet redder. He looks so like a kid, then, that she cannot help it; he reminds her, again, of Jonah when they were younger and running cons smaller than this one just to eat and even though they were the same age they had ever tried to protect one another. She wants to protect Will, now. “I won’t tell anybody,” she says seriously, and his eyes flick to her and squint, examining her face for sincerity. “You can - whatever you do about Mr Lloyd’s...condition. I won’t tell anybody.”

He tilts his head slightly, like he’s listening for something. “Why not?” he says cautiously.

Noelle turns her gaze on the table and her neatly folded hands there. Sometimes she tries so hard to look respectable she worries that it’s sinking in, making her really into those women who sit diminished and demure at their husband’s pleasure.

Tobias would shoot Will himself, probably, without even troubling the sheriff.

“Because I reckon a person ought to be punished for what they’ve done, not what they are,” she says eventually. “That seems...fair.”

Will nods sharply. “Suits me,” he says, a little too quickly. “But I’m not going to tell anybody about your husband, either.” Now it is her turn to cock her head at him, mirroring like a sharp-faced eagle competing for prey. Will shifts his glass again. “I don’t figure that many people are going to miss him awful much,” he says thoughtfully. “As, as long as no-one else falls ill like him, then, I suppose that’s all right. And - sometimes - people do bad things to bad people. Maybe, maybe he dies, and another aunt’s friend’s daughter has only the kids she wants to have with the man she wants to marry. Maybe you live unbruised. Maybe - maybe you pay your bills at the general store quicker than he did and German can afford credit for a starving family whose kids survive the winter.” Will throws up his hands. “I don’t know.”

Noelle looks at him for a long moment. “But you want to believe it.”

He sighs massively and leans forward to prop his elbows on the table and bury his face in his hands. “God,” Will says, the word muffled and cracking down the middle, “yes, I want to believe that. Of course I want to believe that.”

Noelle reaches out carefully and places her fingers on his forearm lightly. “Will, I think - whatever you’ve done, I-”

He leans back, her fingers falling away as he scrubs at his face. “I haven’t done anything,” he says sharply. “That was - that was someone else, and long ago, and - nothing.”

She doesn’t believe him. She doesn’t even get the sense that he believes himself; rather, that this is something he is attempting to persuade himself is true. But over the sound of the sand on the glass there comes the sound of boots and spurs, and Tommy Morin hollering for Will to come out quicksmart, for something’s gone terribly wrong and his expertise is required, so she never gets to ask. She supposes he wouldn’t tell her anyhow.

Will scrambles to his feet, collecting up his leather bag with a sigh of worried resignation. “Well, ma’am, that’s me,” he says, abruptly all polite once more, and Noelle almost - misses him. The other him, who had been honest and angry and not the moral stickler he had been pretending to be. “I don’t suppose you’ll need me out here much longer.”

“I suppose not,” she agrees, and passes him his hat. What she’ll do then, well… But certainly, Tobias Lloyd does not have long left to keep troubling Will Williams.

He turns to the door, but the wind suddenly picks up; the whole house is briefly sandblasted, the shingles drumming with the vicious, sharp stones, and Tommy quits his yelling to cough and spit. Williams makes a face which he cannot quite help, and Noelle must take pity.

“Here,” she says, passing him the glass of lemonade he had abandoned on the table. “Seems you might want it out there.”

He glances between her face and the glass and back again. And then, carefully, reaches out to accept it. Will drinks quickly, watching her face, and passes the glass back. “Thank you,” he says softly, and for a long moment Noelle wants to thank him too - for listening, and for believing that she might have the right of it, and for drinking her lemonade.

But then he pulls his neckerchief up over his nose and mouth and departs into the sandstorm, Tommy sparing only a moment to tip his hat at her before grabbing Will’s elbow and continuing to yell through the wind about something having happened to Finn’s wrist during undisclosed activities and now needing bandaging. Will twists over one shoulder to offer her an amused, exhausted look and a brief wave as he is hauled away into the dust, and Noelle stays standing in the doorway to watch them go with sand swirling around her ankles and encroaching into her pristine, proper home.

She leaves the door open a while. She’s never really wanted to be upstanding.

#yeehaw! murder #will 'i can excuse murder but i draw the line at being made an accessory' williams #noelle 'true neutral' underwood lloyd #thanks for the enablement kit ily #a town called danser

[phobiadeficient]

Hey! First of all tell ya that holyfcknshit your writing gives me life! Like, ugh, youre my fckn fave writer!!! Aaaand this is my first request!: Transboy!Scout x Sniper x Demo! Maybe a little hurt/comfort centered on Scout? I just rlly love this three guys together!! Anything with them makes me happy! And your writing with this ship? Ugh ill be in heaven!! You dont have to do it if u dont like or arent comfy with it, tho! Thanks for letting us read your wonderful works!!

can you imagine being scout tf2 in this situation? “yeah im getting a little dysphoria guess i’ll talk to my two hot boyfriends abt it” like can you Imagine

(warnings for discussion of dysphoria and non-graphic PIV sex, i understand that not all trans men are comfortable with that but when i headcanon scout as trans i also tend to headcanon him not being particularly prone to most kinds of body dysphoria and having a generally positive self-image overall. just wanted to be clear on that)

-

Overall, Scout felt pretty nice. With his two guys, fresh off of dinner and just a little bit buzzed, squished between the two of them all cozy and stuff, and Sniper was playing with his hair and Demo was telling some story about a dumb kid he knew in school and stuff was overall just real nice.

And of course his stupid brain had to come along and ruin it by making him think about sad shit.

They were in Demo’s room since he was the only one of them who was smart enough to get a big mattress. Scout had Sniper’s arm just sort of thrown over across him, he and Demo’s hands intertwined on Scout’s stomach, and he just kinda looked at them for a minute. He thought it was kinda neat just seeing all the little details there, how Demo kept his hands cleaner but his nails were longer, Sniper’s clipped way short but still just a bit dusty. Or maybe that was just his callouses and some weird tanning sort of thing going on, who could say? Demo’s hands always kind of ran warm, and Sniper’s always kind of ran chilly, and Scout would go way warm or cold depending on the day, super susceptible to temperature because he was such a skinny little fuck.

Maybe that’s what he was staring about. Looking at their arms, it was made all the more clear how much scrawnier Scout was. It wasn’t even like Sniper was a particularly buff guy, he could be described as “in-shape” at best, but he was still just... bigger than Scout.

And the other thing, he realized, was that man, Demo and Sniper were both pretty fuzzy dudes. Hair on their arms and legs and all across their chests, Demo with a pretty nice beard and Sniper with almost a beard on accident.

Wham, just like that, like a bat to the temple, self-consciousness, self-doubt. Because that was just one of those little tiny things that Scout would get super insecure about all the goddamn time. Just the little tiny differences. Like the slightly different jaw, the slightly longer eyelashes, the slightly different build. And Scout was lucky, he knew that, because he was tall, and he knew how to work out to build his muscles so he could pass pretty easily in that regard, and his chest wasn’t anything to brag about to start with let alone when he started binding.

But the lack of facial hair, and the hair everywhere else on his body being kind of pale and nothing, and his scrawnier arms, it just...

He exhaled slowly, letting his eyes fall closed. Okay, he needed to slow down and take a breath. Here he was, squished between his two favorite guys on the planet, and who just so happened to be willing to date him and sleep with him on a regular basis, and who were also really hot, and he was getting all up in his own head over nothing. It was dumb. He needed to quit it.

But his brain kept cycling him through it, again and again, and it was Sniper who eventually pulled him out of it.

At some point he’d started playing with the hair on Sniper’s arm, just sort of fiddling, pushing his fingertips across his forearm idly, and Sniper tilted his head to watch him do so. That made Scout suddenly aware that he was doing it, and he faltered for a second, but he continued anyways, even as it made his thoughts a little harder to ignore when doing it consciously.

“One day, love,” Sniper said quietly, and Scout looked up at him, a little wide-eyed with surprise. Sniper smiled a little. “You’ve been doing that for about twenty minutes and staring off into space like you’re waiting for your spouse to come back from the war, love, it was a pretty easy guess to make,” he elaborated.

Scout looked back down and away. Chewed on his lip and his words.

“Is it, like,” Scout started, and had to pause for a second to think of how to word it right. “Is it ever,

y’know, weird? How I’m all... smooth and stuff? And not fuzzy like you guys?”

“Not particularly,” Demo shrugged, the shift minute since Scout could feel it. “Not a big difference.”

“I’ve met plenty of blokes who shave or wax anyways to look nice for other blokes, you’re a good few steps more hairy than them,” Sniper added.

Scout nodded slowly. “...And the... you’ve already said all the other stuff isn’t weird,” he said carefully.

“Aye,” Demo agreed.

Scout was quiet again for a few seconds.

Sniper stopped playing with his hair and removed his hand entirely, and Scout went to complain about it, but was surprised into staying quiet by Sniper rolling to prop himself up over Scout, looking down at him. “Love, are we not telling you enough how handsome you are?” Sniper teased.

Scout flushed. “You tell me plenty,” he mumbled, glancing off.

Sniper took hold of his chin and tilted him back to face him, mouth very very close to his own. “Could tell you more.”

“Could show you more,” Demo agreed, finding a place to wrap his arm over around Scout, kissing at the space under his ear and making him shiver lightly.

“I—guys, it’s fine,” he protested, but it was weak and halfhearted, because Sniper promptly moved to the other side of his neck to nip and kiss, following Demo’s lead. “I-I-I don’t need the... the extra sort of, the...”

He kept trailing off as his breath caught, the two of them being extremely distracting when they wanted to be. He jumped lightly when Demo pinched him lightly on the side, and heard the rumbly little chuckle of amusement that the motion got him.

They finished off getting him properly distracted, Demo parting with one last hard kiss on the lips, and then they were both just grinning down at him, leaving him there probably looking like a complete mess, spots on his neck surely starting to redden.

“Handsome,” Sniper observed simply.

“Gorgeous,” Demo agreed, and gave him another peck for good measure.

Scout’s face was on fire.

“...Well what are you gonna do about it?” he finally prompted impatiently, shifting a little.

Chuckles from both of them, and then they were in motion, starting to strip.

Scout took off his own briefs and the tank he used to bind when they were off work, and mostly just set to distracting Demo as the other tried to get out of his own clothes, much simpler than his uniform but more challenging when Scout was hanging off of him and kissing him absolutely silly.

Sniper pulled Scout off of Demo and back into his lap to free up Demo’s attention for a moment, and Scout’s breath caught as he felt a bare chest against his back and bare thighs under his own. Sniper kneaded at his thigh idly and tucked his head in to nose just under Scout’s ear and speak. “How d’you feel like doing this, love?” he asked softly, sentence punctuated by a little kiss. “Feels like it’s gonna be your night tonight, that sound right, Tavish?”

A sound of agreement from Demo as he struggled free of his shirt. Scout chewed on his lip and thought a little, shifting his weight back against Sniper and enjoying the way Sniper steadied him with arms wrapped around his waist, the hardness beneath him, situated in such a way that he had to really roll his hips down hard to apply any kind of real pressure and make Sniper exhale softly against his neck.

“I dunno, you could fuck me, maybe,” Scout suggested idly, rolling down against him again for emphasis.

Sniper considered that. “We got any rubbers, Tavish?” he asked, and Demo paused where he was pulling free of the last of his clothing, thinking.

“...Should,” he confirmed, moving to the bedside table to check, and coming up with a few foil squares a second later triumphantly.

“Alright then,” Sniper nodded, kissed at Scout’s neck some more. “Who d’you want for what then, love?”

“You fuck me, just like this, I suck Demo off,” Scout decided, eyeing up the bomb-maker in question as he joined them on the bed again, now naked and smiling a bit as he passed over the condoms to Sniper.

“Sounds good to me,” Demo agreed, and pulled Scout in with a hand on the back of his neck to kiss him, other hand drifting over his thigh and guiding him up into a kneeling position to give Sniper room.

Then there was a pair of fingers drifting along the inside of Scout’s thigh, moving between his legs to tease him for a few long moments before Sniper was slicking them up and slipping them inside with relative ease. Scout moaned softly against Demo’s mouth, earning a chuckle.

“Lovely thing,” Demo teased, both hands stroking over his thighs as they started to tremble under the force of Sniper’s fingers moving into and against him in throbbing waves, a skill afforded by experience he’d only gained since he’d gotten with Scout, but fuck, he’d really learned a lot in a short period of time, knew exactly what Scout liked, knew his tells, knew when he could add another finger, knew when he could pull his fingers out altogether and guide Scout back down into his lap carefully, carefully, and Scout was grateful that Demo had the foresight to get lubed condoms because the slide was so nice as he sank down.

Demo pulled back to let Scout moan and curse and make all sorts of noise, visibly admiring the show as Scout rolled and shifted his hips to try and find a good angle, Sniper muffling soft noises into his shoulder. A long few moments were spent with Scout trying desperately to get used to the feeling, only to be thrown off his rhythm as he found a good angle, then again as Sniper rolled his hips gently and the pressure shifted, then again as Demo pulled him back into a kiss.

“Gorgeous,” Sniper murmured against the top of his vertebrae, kissing there lightly, breathless. “Gorgeous thing.”

“You’re—“ Scout started to say, but it was cut off by a shaky sigh as Demo nipped at his bottom lip playfully, Sniper mirroring the motion against his backbone.

In no time at all, he was shifting his legs slightly to get comfortable and starting to move, a gentle up-and-down, barely exerting himself with how extremely fit he was, himself doing most of the work with Sniper rolling along when he could.

And Scout was lost in sensation for a little while, and Demo had been making himself busy lying a series of hickies all up one side of his neck, so he was a little surprised and largely pleased when he blinked his eyes open and saw that Demo had a hand around himself as he took in the view the two of them made. And once he realized that, Scout didn’t waste time nudging his hand aside to try and take over, and then he was being treated to the always-lovely experience of being caught between the two of them, all giving and taking pleasure as well as they could with their brains getting increasingly scrambled.

And Scout could vaguely remember having said something about sucking off Demo, but every time he tried to pull his hand away so they could readjust, Demo mumbled some vague complaint and urged him back into place again. And somewhere along the way Demo slid a hand down his stomach to toy with him in much the same way he was being toyed with, and then all motion was kicking up a notch—

Sniper was done first, surprisingly, swearing through gritted teeth, pulling out midway through as he shuddered through aftershocks that seemed to drag on and on. Scout gasped, and found himself desperate and just a little bit demanding. But man, he really did get lucky enough to find two guys who were real hot and pretty smart, because when Sniper had finally settled down a little Demo had already rolled on a condom and was urging Scout into his lap instead, and he exhaled with relief as he sank down again, mouth locking together with Demo’s as soon as he could get the breath for it, Demo working a hand back down between them to then work at Scout as best he could as the other lifted and rolled Scout with very little effort involved.

And at that point they were both worked along to the point where it barely took any time at all before Scout was trying to muffle himself into Demo’s neck—yes he got loud in bed, no he couldn’t help it, even if he tended to be the one the team then took potshots at over breakfast for being a noise complaint. And Demo was there too, swearing in a choked voice and breathing hard.

Actually, they both were breathing pretty hard. And Scout felt ever-so-slightly steamrolled and extremely pleased with himself and the state of the world around them. And he found himself playing with the abundance of hair across Demo’s chest as he came back down, melting into a nice little puddle  in his lap and humming, gone soft and relaxed.

“Handsome,” Demo quipped, kissing at the side of his head, and Scout couldn’t help but smile at the feeling of a beard rasping against his hair.

“Feeling better?” Sniper prompted, and Scout could only hum for a moment, still a little overwhelmed. That got a chuckle out of the both of them.

“Must’ve done something right, aye?” Demo asked, and Scout heard the two of them sharing a brief kiss over his shoulder, and that got him to grin all the more.

“You guys are the best,” Scout decided, mumbly but pleased.

A hum of agreement. “...Y’know that, er, thing you tend to do? Where I’ll be acting like an absolute bugger and mouthing off and you make me go eat lunch and then suddenly everything’s all better because I wasn’t in a bad mood, I was just hungry?” Sniper asked.

Scout hummed in agreement.

“Think this might be that for you,” Sniper concluded, smoothing hands down Scout’s sides, and Scout leaned into it. “A little attention and all’s right with the world, seems like.”

Demo cupped his chin and tilted his face up to kiss at his cheek, and Scout was sure he was grinning like a total dope, but he couldn’t help it. “More attention might be just what the doctor ordered,” he agreed. “That sound right to you, lad?”

Scout hummed in agreement, melting back forward into Demo’s chest again.

“Alright, lovely as you are you ought to get up so we can mop up, doll,” Demo urged, and helped shift Scout up and out of his lap gently. “Made a damn mess of you, would like to avoid ruining the sheets.”

“Shower?” Sniper asked, pulling Scout to his feet.

“Shower,” Scout agreed.

And maybe it was just that Scout had been a little pent-up and it was doing things to his head. Or maybe it was that the two of them were excellent at comforting him in any way he could when those doubts started to spring up. Either way, he found it really hard to be worried about something as simple as him being less hairy than your bog-standard guy off the street when he had Sniper playing and helping to wash his hair and Demo humming more gentle compliments into his ear and bickering quietly with Sniper over nothing important.

#//demosniperscout #//trans characters #//tenderness

[reddiesetcry]

hammock

anyway i didnt know what to name this

__

Richie peaked into the hideout, his eyes adjusting to the darkness below. Huffing, he adjusted his grip on the record player and headed down, ignoring the shadows that seemed to crawl around him. He was a senior, he shouldn’t be afraid of the dark. Still, he set the player down and turned on the community flashlight. It’d been so long since they’d all been down there, it almost felt wrong that it was just going to be him and Eddie tonight. The sun was starting to set, making the flashlight’s reach longer across the hideout’s walls.

He got out his walkie talkie. “Eddie Spaghetti, you copy me?” his singsong attitude was hopefully enough to mask his nerves.

“Don’t call me that, Rich,” Eddie sighed from the other line. Richie smiled.

“Eddie, love, it’s been so long!”

“Cut it with the stupid British accent, my mom could hear-”

“Maybe I should invite her to, then. You know she’s always begging for me-”

“Richie!” Eddie couldn’t hide his laughter.

“Mom jokes. After all this time?”

“What do you want?”

“Bring some candles. I didn’t realize it would be this dark.”

“Sure thing,”

“Out and over,”

Richie smiled to himself before getting to work. He moved the record player to the side of the hideout, making room for Eddie and him to sit comfortably. While cashing some bugs away, his eyes caught a glimpse of the hammock. He softly smiled, moving his hand along the dusty cloth. His comic laid in the center, pages faded and brittle; Richie felt a wave of nostalgia. That summer felt like ages ago. Now it was just him, Eddie, and Mike left. It’s a bittersweet reminder, the hideout.

“My mom’s gonna kill me for this. You’re so lucky I even got out of the house!” Eddie’s complaining voice pulled Richie from his thoughts.

“Maybe if I come over, she’ll change her mind,” Richie winked.

“Fuck off, Richie,” Eddie set a couple of candles down on the floor.

“Shit, I forgot-”

“A lighter,” Eddie finished, pulling one from his windbreaker pocket. “You’re lucky I’m the smart one,”

“Keep telling yourself that, Eds. Only a genius could come up with my jokes,”

“You’ve been saying ‘I fucked your mom’ for, what? Five years now?”

“It’s a crowd pleaser,” Richie smirked. Eddie hummed in reply, lighting the candles.

“Why didn’t you invite Mikey?”

There it was: the question Richie hoping wouldn’t come up. This was his last chance with Eddie before they graduated, and as much as he loved Mike, this was just something he had to do with Eddie and Eddie alone.

“He couldn’t come,” he lied.

Eddie didn’t seem to believe him, but nodded anyway. “Alright.”

“Anyway,” Richi spoke quickly. “I was just thinking we could listen to some tunes and drown in childhood memories before life slaps us in the face.”

“It already has,”

“Not until I say it has, Sènor,”

Richie shuffles through a couple records, and decides on The Beatles’ Abbey Road. “A classic,” he mutters to himself, placing down the needle. You Never Give Me Your Money plays quietly as Eddie stretched his legs on the floor. Riche looks at him from behind, and help but notice how the bits of light seeping from the boards tangle into his hair, making him golden. The dust danced in the air, but strangely enough Eddie didn’t complain.

“I think I’m gonna miss this,”

Richie took a spot next to him. “I’m not sure I’ll remember this,”

“What do you mean?” Eddie’s fear seeped through his voice, and Richie wanted to slap himself.

“I’m- I’m,” He stuttered. This wasn’t exactly how he planned telling him. “They accepted me. USF. I’m leaving after graduation.”

“Richie,” Eddie’s tone was soft and hurt. Richie hated it. “I’m so glad,” He hated that even more.

“I wanna say ‘I won’t forget you’, ‘ill write, and all that bullshit,” Richie began. “But we all know it isn’t true. I won’t. Bev didn’t Bill didn’t, Ben or Stan They’ve forgotten about us. And I don't wanna forget this, but I’m not sure I’ll even remember anything about Derry, let alone this,” His shaking hand gestured around.

“You won’t forget, Rich,” Eddie had some misplaced confidence in Richie, and it pissed him off.

“How do you know that?” He hissed.

Eddie was silent for too long. It was suffocating.

“I don’t,”

They stayed quiet for a long time. Richie looked back from the hammock to Eddie’s sun kissed skin. Finally, he got up, moving to the hammock. He looked over at Eddie, picking up the comic and smiling. Eddie smiled back. They squished together in the hammock- if they didn’t have room when they were 13, the definitely were on top of each other at 18. Eddie laid on Richie’s lap, resting his head on his rest. It was some unspoken thing between them, and Richie wanted to scream at the innocence of it all. After everything, Eddie still somehow could be the eye inside a hurricane. The scent of strawberry shampoo, the soft candle light, the crinkly pages of the comic, and Eddie’s warmth made Richie feel at home. He wrapped his arms around Eddie, and the other boy pressed himself closer.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?” His voice was soft and sweet honey.

“I think I’m in love with you,”

Eddie hummed, not looking away from the comic. “I know,”

“You what?” Richie was taken aback.

“I know, and I love you,”

“And you don’t- you’re-” his brain was short circuiting.

Eddie chuckled, placing a kiss right below Richie’s lips, puting the comic down. “It’s been five years, Rich. We just didn’t have to say anything,”

Richie wanted to say so many things. Clearly we did, because I didn’t know you liked me back. I didn’t know you were gay. Have we been dating this whole time? What happens when we leave Derry? I don’t want to forget us.

Instead, Richie leaned down. He kissed Eddie softly. They shared their comfort in that hammock, safe from the world that crashed around them.

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it richie #it chapter two #it chap 1 #it chapter one #it chapter ii #it chap 2

[strife-and-discord]

Here Kitty, Kitty

Read on AO3 here

Characters: Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dedue Molinaro, Annette Fantine Dominic, Lysithea Von Ordelia 

Summary: With the war going on, Seteth agrees to open the restricted section of the library in case there could be knowledge there that could help them in battle. Instead what Lysithea and Annette find is a book of mischief (although they don't know that's what it is at the time) and poor Felix who was just there to help them with the heavy lifting accidentally becomes their victim.

This is a Catboy Felix you have been warned.

A/N: *leans real close to the mic* I would just like to thank the ten-hour version of the Tetris theme for getting me through this

Anyway this is 3.5k words of catboy felix dedicated to @corviiids. I'll admit this chapter is a little boring cause it's mostly just the set up but I swear I have other chapters planned featuring plenty of catboy felix shenanigans and I am also open to requests (don't really wanna do shippy stuff though).

also just a small trigger warning but Felix does low key refer to Dedue as a lap dog later on in the chapter and I know that bothers some people

Felix’s nose twitches when Annette slams some ancient tomb down on the table near him, the damned thing is so old Felix is surprised it doesn’t just crumble entirely into dust.

“Careful Annette, that was too loud,” Lysithea shushes from her spot over by the shelves.

Given that they were in the middle of a war and that they were all adults now, Seteth had given the Blue Lions house the keys to access the restricted section of the library. Stating that it may contain old or unconventional knowledge that could be useful in the fight against Edelgard.

Obviously- being the book worms that they are- Lysithea and Annette were the most eager for the chance to learn some forgotten magic and asked Felix to supervise them in case there was some sort of accident. He gets that to some extent this could be important to the war effort so Felix agrees to hang around while they work. However, it’s turning out to be a fairly dull experience where the most Felix has done in nearly an hour and a half is help the girls carry some of the bigger books.

“Ahh… sorry! I shouldn’t have tried to carry one so heavy, I’ll be more careful.” Despite the plume of dust currently irritating Felix’s sinuses he can’t help but roll his eyes fondly at Annette’s antics.

She says she’ll be more careful but he knows that this is far from the last mistake she’ll ever make. Although, he doesn’t seem to mind Annette’s clumsiness as much as he does other people’s. As long as she’s got people like him and Lysithea around to help her out he thinks she’ll be fine.

“What is that one anyway, it’s really dusty so it must have been laying around for a while,” Lysithea asks as she moves to join them at the table.

Annette squints to read the title of the book and Felix thinks to himself that her eyes are probably going bad from all the studying she does. “Li-bri Eo-rum Lo- Lo… Lo-contour? I’m not sure about that last one-” Annette frowns- “It's spelt a bit funny,”

“Libri Eorum Loquuntur,” Lysithea pronounces. Annette and Felix turn to her. “What? I’ve just heard this language spoken by other mages before.” She blushes and looks away.

“Does that mean you understand it?” Felix asks.

Lysithea shakes her head. “No sorry. My understanding is very basic.”

“Oh well, we can ask Seteth about that later. Let’s take a look inside!” With that Annette jams her fingers into a random part of the book and heaves it open, creating another cloud of dust.

“Ugh.. geez! Someone really should have been taking better care of these things,” Lysithea coughs and splutters.

Felix’s nose twitches again but this time he can’t keep himself from sneezing. Annette snickers, “Felix you sneeze like a kitten!”

Heat rises to his cheeks, “No I don’t!”

“Ugh, you sneezed all over the book that’s gross,” Lysithea groans.

“Sorry,” he grumbles.

Annette just giggles at him again before turning her attention to the now open book.

“Hm… weird, the book is written in the same language as the cover but someone’s added some Fodlan translations but only to the instructions. So we know how to do the spell but not what it does.”

Lysithea peaks over her shoulder. “It doesn’t look overly complicated either. Seems you just need something from your victim that ties them to the spell… and then you just say the words.”

“Wow! These are even more complicated than the title! Do you think you can figure out how to pronounce it Lys?”

Lysithea scoffs, “Of course I can. The chant is ostendere bestia est homo in interiorem”

Felix isn't’ really sure what happens after Lysithea says the chant because all at once he is struck by a blinding pain in both his head and his lower back. He collapses to the ground with a scream of anguish. He Vaguely registers Lysithea and Annette rushing over to him and talking to him in panicked tones but before he can try and reach for the words to reassure them, his world is engulfed in white light before he blacks out completely.

___________

Dedue is, as per usual, sitting at one of the pews in the cathedral that is closest to his Highness in order to keep an eye on him as he… broods. It is where Dedue can most often be found these days seeing as Gilbert took up most of his other duties in his absence. He doesn’t mind though. Dedue’s place has always been at his Highness’s side, for better or for worse.

Since Dedue now has a lot more idle time than he is used to, and he cannot indulge in his usual hobbies of cooking and gardening from the cathedral, he has taken up some new hobbies that can be done at his post such as sewing and crafts. One lucky day he was even able to convince his Highness to allow him to stitch up some of the raggedness his cloak had received during his missing five years.

The cathedral is not as busy as it was back in his academy days so, for the most part, Dedue is left to spend his days in relative peace and quiet. Today, however, the sweet eerie silence of the holy structure is greatly disturbed when his fellow housemates Lysithea and Annette come running through the place like twin hurricanes, calling for Dedue.

“Dedue! Deeduuuueee!” He really does wish they’d be a bit quieter, this is a church after all and he doesn’t want them to aggravate his Highness.

“There is no need to shout. I can hear you,” he informs them politely as they reach him at the back of the church.

“We messed up big time Dedue.” Annette pants from running. “You need to come with us. You have to see it to believe it and we don’t know what to do.” Lysithea is nodding enthusiastically beside her...

Dedue frowns. He is not entirely sure what sort of situation would require this kind of response. However, were someone dying he would hope that Lysithea and Annette would simply tell him outright. He believes this is something different. He stands up and places his current sewing project gently back on the seat behind him. He doubts anyone here would take it. He nods once at the two women and gestures for them to lead the way.

As they move towards wherever it is that they’re headed, Dedue notes that Lysithea and Annette do not seem to be panicked, per se, just nervous. He also notes that they seem to be heading towards the Dormitories. Perhaps someone is ill and the girls want his advice in taking care of them? Although that doesn’t explain their statement of ‘he has to see it to believe it.”

He is led to the second floor of the dormitories and towards the end of the hall. Dedue panics for a second that perhaps they have done something dreadful to his Highness’s room. While he may not be using it at the moment, Dedue would prefer it to remain intact. Fortunately, the trio stops before his Highness’s room and instead enter Felix’s.

Dedue’s brain comes to a complete standstill. Lysithea and Annette stand at Felix’s bedside looking at him with expectation and fear but Dedue can not formulate any sort of emotional response to offer them. Felix lies on his bed, stripped of his weapons and curled in a fetal position on his side, with two catlike ears sprouting from his head and a rather elegant tail curling from his lower back.

Dedue is not sure of how many moments pass in silence but it is enough that Lysithea and Annette start to shuffle awkwardly where they are standing.

“What…-” Dedue starts- “exactly has happened here.”

Lysithea won’t meet his eye and Annette seems to be biting her lip to keep from crying. He hopes, absentmindedly, that he is not intimidating them too much.

It is Lysithea who speaks up first. “Felix was helping us look through the restricted section of the library for anything we could potentially use in battle when we found a very old book in a language we didn’t understand and accidentally cast a spell from it!” Lysithea rushes the story so fast that Dedue almost doesn’t catch it.

Dedue looks at Felix again. It is probably the most peaceful Dedue has ever seen Felix in all the years they’ve known each other, he can’t help but think Felix looks very nice like this. Other than the ears and tail he can’t see anything wrong or out of the ordinary. He understands that given the current state of things both Dedue and the Professor have become the primary givers of support among the monastery but for once he does not have even the slightest of clues as to what he should do about this.

“I do not mean to sound rude but I do not believe I am the right person to assist in this. I am very much lacking in skill when it comes to the magical arts and I have little knowledge of Fodlan history. If you want my advice, it would be to speak to either Manuela or Seteth about this. Perhaps both.”

Annette and Lysithea both look crestfallen at that and Dedue cannot suppress the twinge of guilt he feels at not being able to provide them with a solution.

“Well… can you at least stay with us until he wakes up? He’s gonna be really angry when he wakes up and I don’t know if Annette’s pouty face will be enough to calm him down this time…”

Dedue sighs. He understands their concern, even if Felix does not lash out at them physically he can be just as brutal with his words but Dedue is already starting to feel anxious at being away from his Highness for so long. However, this is a fairly serious situation and the goddess knows what kind of condition Felix will be in when he wakes up. If he can’t walk, it would not be fair to leave Annette and Lysithea to carry him to the infirmary.

“Alright,” he relents, “I will stay until he wakes and help escort him to the infirmary afterwards.”

Dedue stumbles as Annette leaps to hug him with a surprising amount of might for such a small lady. “Oh thank you Dedue! This means the world to me I promise we’ll make it up to you!”

“Annette, shhh!” Lysithea scolds, “Felix is still sleeping.”

“Oh yeah, sorry!”

Lysithea just rolls her eyes and pulls out Felix’s desk chair to sit in. Dedue situates himself by the door and Annette moves towards the bed to have a closer look at Felix.

“You have to admit though… he does look really cute.” As if without thinking, Annette’s hand slowly moves towards the spot on Felix’s head between his ears.

“Annette!” Lysithea jumps up. “You can’t do that! Felix will actually kill you!”

Annette looks back guiltily, “He doesn’t have to know! I have a better chance of being able to do it now than when he’s awake.”

Assured in her logic, Annette continues her actions. Dedue can’t help but agree with Lysithea in that watching Annette move to pat Felix on the head is sending off warning bells in his head. Fortunately, Felix does not immediately awaken in a ball of rage and swords as Annette’s hand makes contact. Instead, as Annette starts to scratch gently around where his ears are, a low rumbling sound comes from Felix instead.

“Oh my goddess, he’s purring,” Annette whispers in complete awe. Dedue swears he can see stars in her eyes.

Lysithea moves from her seat to peak over Annette’s shoulder, moving cautiously as if one wrong step will cause an explosion. “I wanna have a go as well” Annette backs away carefully allowing Lysithea to take her place.

“His ears are so soft…” Lysithea mutters almost to herself as it is hard to hear her over Felix’s purring.

Suddenly, the purring cuts off and Lysithea jerks her hand back as Felix gives a yawn with way more fangs than any human is meant to have. He starts to sit up and Annette and Lysithea scramble back to hide by Dedue.

Felix doesn’t seem to notice them in his grogginess, instead opting to lick his hand and use it to clean behind his ears. Dedue understands what he is doing. He has seen real cats do the same. However, if Dedue thought his brain had been frozen earlier what it is doing now can only be considered a total breakdown. The three stand at the door in the most oppressing silence Dedue has ever felt. Annette once again looks as though she is about to cry and Lysithea is poised and ready to run at a moment's notice.

Felix, however, is completely blind to their shocked states and merely continues to groom himself as if it is the most natural thing in the world.

Felix freezes mid lick and his eyes snap wide open.

Dedue has known Felix for a number of years now even if they’ve never exactly been close and during that time Dedue would never have described himself as feeling intimidated by Felix. However, the look on Felix’s face as he slowly turns to face the trio at the doorway still in the position to lick his hand, gives Dedue chills down his spine as nothing else has in a long time.

The others must feel the same because Dedue registers that Lysithea has his arm in a death grip and a sniffle from his side indicates that Annette’s tears have finally burst forth.

Felix lowers his hand but does not relax his glare even a little. “What… Exactly… Have you done to me?” his voice is low and dangerous and Dedue does not like it one bit.

“It was an accident…” Annette squeaks out.

“That spell from the old book we cast seems to have given you the features of a cat,” Lysithea tries to explain with confidence.

“If you are willing, we’d like to take you to the infirmary to be checked by Manuela. Just to be sure there are no ill side effects,” Dedue adds.

Felix takes several deep breaths and Dedue considers shifting into a more defensive position, he’s fairly certain he can take on an unarmed Felix and if not he can at least protect the girls. Fortunately, this isn’t necessary as the breathing seems to be enough to bring Felix down for the time being. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

Both Lysithea and Annette seem to start breathing again and Dedue would be lying if he said he didn’t let out a sigh of relief as well. Felix gets up from his spot on the bed and stalks over to the mirror on the wall. His new ears twitch as he looks at them but other then shows no outward emotion towards his new appendages other than vague annoyance. Which is how Felix usually looks at things.

“Oh!” Annette jumps, “You should tuck your tail in and cover your ears with your hood! So you don’t alarm anyone.” Felix nods to her and moves to do so.

_____________

Felix’s stomach is churning as Dedue knocks on Manuela’s door. He wants nothing more than to go back to his dorm and take another nap but the fact that he wants that over going to the training grounds is enough to convince him that he needs this check-up. He doesn’t want to make a scene of being freaked out because he knows that will only make Lysithea and Annette feel worse. This really isn’t their fault, the spell probably wouldn’t have gone off if Felix hadn’t sneezed all over the book in the first place. He is pissed off, sure, but not at them.

Unfortunately for him, Manuela actually seems to be present and sober for once. Although her professional conduct seems to be just as lacking as ever. She gives them all a once over before stoping on Felix and his completely ridiculous hood.

“My, what an interesting group of people. What exactly brings you lot to my door?” Felix’s stomach does a particularly nauseating flip. He’s never liked the way she talks.

The other three all give Felix a look and he rolls his eyes before taking off his hood. Finally, his ears were getting really uncomfortable under there. Manuela’s eyes widen and he makes sure to scowl at her.

“Well, I suppose you better come in then. The rest of you wait outside or go back to whatever you were doing. This is probably going to take a while.”

Felix feels more like he’s walked into a prison sentence, as Manuela shuts the door behind him, then an infirmary and he almost wishes Dedue could be here with him since he’s pretty good rebuffing these sorts of thin-

“Alright hon, I’m gonna need you to strip.”

Huh? Felix’s brain stops and he looks at Manuela slack-jawed.

Manuela clicks her tongue at him. “Don’t give me that look, this isn’t a come on. This looks like some pretty serious transformation magic so I’m going to need to give you a full physical to try and make a record of everything that’s changed.”

“Is a full physical really necessary?” Felix cringes.

“Yes, Felix. In order to understand the extent of the changes it is very necessary.”

Felix groans but moves to start taking off his clothes none the less.

______________

After a gruelling two hours of tests that have left Felix in desperate need of a nap, he is finally released by Manuela with a file containing her initial results on Felix’s new physical nature and some suggestions he’s sure he’s going to ignore. To Felix’s surprise, Dedue is still waiting outside the infirmary although he has taken a seat on the ground and seems to have acquired some… sewing.

Dedue looks up from his project as the door opens. “Ah, you’re done. How did it go?” Dedue may be acting polite but Felix can tell it’s awkward for him. Probably because most of their previous conversations involved Felix yelling insults at him.

“That was probably one of the worst experiences of my life. However-” Felix gestures at the folder- “we now have a written record of all the know changes the spell made to me.” “That’s a great start,” Dedue nods. “The girls went to talk to Seteth to see if he knows anything useful.”

‘Why are you still here anyway? I thought you would’ve gone back to your master by now.” He would call Dedue a lap dog but he figures he has been helpful today so Felix might as well go easy on him.

Dedues face falls and Felix can’t help but feel little guilty, he hopes his ears don’t give it away. Sure it was unnecessary but he has a reputation to uphold. “I’m sure his Highness will manage to survive one day without me.” And there’s that calm dismissal that never fails to piss Felix off. His guilt quickly dissipates and he takes note of the way his tail seems to flick instinctually with his irritation.

Before the situation can devolve into a real argument, Lysithea and Annette come running up. It’s kinda mean but Felix thinks they look a bit like woodland creatures running around on their little legs.

“We spoke with Seteth!” Annette announces, out of breath.

“You do not need to run everywhere,” Dedue says with concern.

“We spoke to Seteth-” Lysithea continues- “And he said that book is actually a ‘Book of Mischief’ and that spell was to ‘reveal one’s inner creature’. So in other words, it’s a prank spell from a prank book.”

Felix sputters, “Wha- What do you mean ‘reveals one’s inner creature’?! Why the hell am I a cat!?” He should be something way cooler right? Like… like a wolf or something.

Dedue ignores Felix’s comment, “Did Seteth say anything about reversing this?”

“He said that he’d talk to Professor Hanneman and Linhardt about doing some research into reversing but for now all we can do is wait.”

So, in other words, Felix is going to be stuck like this for a while. He’s not really sure how to feel about that. There haven’t really been any negative side effects yet but it’s still freaking weird to be a person with various cat features. A voice in his head that sounds annoyingly like Ingrid and that he would rather ignore, says that this is karma for him always comparing other people to animals.

“Well…” Dedue looks down, “I suppose all that’s left to do now is to announce it to the rest of the house and the professor. It would hardly be practical for Felix to walk around all day wearing his hood.”

Dedue turns to Felix, “That reminds me, if you are willing to offer up your coat for a short time, I could sew some proper earholes into the hood so it’s not so uncomfortable.”

Felix takes a deep breath. These are the things he has to worry about now. Ear holes for his hoods, finger holes for his new claws, and probably holes in his pants for his tail. Being a cat/human hybrid seems to involve a lot of holes. It’s also going to involve a lot of explaining things, starting with the former Blue Lions

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #felix hugo fraldarius #dedue fire emblem #annette fantine dominic #lysithea von ordelia #fe3h #the words of me #catboy Felix

[builder051]

I love prompt 78, can you do it ?

Alright, think back to the joy of your very first migraine, and imagine Peter Parker trying to deal with it all on his own…

Yes, another migraine fic.  But hey, you requested it, and it’s kind of my jam.  I’m not in love with the way it turned out, though, (because I wrote the dialogue all out of order) so, well…hopefully it’s ok.

___

Peter’s home alone on a Wednesday night, picking thorough his homework and waiting for May to finish up her evening shift.  He’s been nursing a headache since lunchtime, and Peter’s used to that.  Food and ibuprofen usually put a damper on things, but not today.

A throb flickers in Peter’s right temple, and his vision shifts weirdly, making the sheet of notebook paper in front of him appear faintly magenta, streaked with pencil marks of hunter green.  He blinks hard, and everything goes mostly back to normal.  Except for the cluster of stars working its way in an arch from one corner of his right eye to the other.

It’s distracting as hell.  And screwing with is depth perception.  Peter starts scratching out another problem from his math assignment, but the numbers are all lopsided and hanging off the line, so he pauses.  Stares at them for a second.  Then fumbles for an eraser.

Good thing this assignment isn’t due tomorrow.  He’ll never finish at this rate.  Peter heaves a frustrated sigh and lets his hand slacken over the resulting pile of rubber shavings.  A wash of apathy comes down from Peter’s head just as the ache in his temple decides to ratchet up a few marks. He drops the eraser and shuts his math book.  He’s starting to feel too ill to work anyway.

As he looks for the proper folder to stow away his homework, Peter’s head gets heavier and heavier.  He nearly slides out of his chair because the left side of his face seems to be leaden and drooping while the right just hurts.  It vaguely occurs to him that this isn’t good.  This is all wrong.  People…people go to the ER for things like this.  The exact word escapes him, but Peter wonders if he’s suffering a brain bleed, about to die in a pile of homework.

Peter considers calling May, but his stomach clenches at the thought of sending her scurrying home early and losing precious hours of pay.  Either that or he’s just nauseous.  Regardless, his imminent death somehow seems less important than his aunt’s finances.

But, god, he can’t just sit here.  The inside of his head feels like Bohemian Rhapsody, but the disorganized offshoots of electrical activity floundering in every direction are full of every kind of pain.  Peter unlocks his phone and scrolls through his contacts.  Ned can’t help.  He’s already decided against calling May.  He doesn’t know why he even has Flash’s number.  Whatever’s next on the list is too blurry to read…

He needs help.  He scans the list as best he can in his partially obscured, quivering visual field.  Then he comes to a promising name and presses the call button.

Peter waits, breathing through vertigo as the phone rings out.

“Mission reports go to Happy,” Mr. Stark’s voice says.  “Thank you and goodnight.”

“Wait, don’t—don’t hang up,” Peter gasps.  “I need…I can’t…”

Mr. Stark’s tone changes at the panic in Peter’s voice.  “Ok, kid, slow down.  What’s going on?”

“Something’s—”  Something’s wrong.  But…how the hell to articulate that word?  What letter does it start with?  How does that sound fit into his mouth?

“Kid?”

“I’m, I’m…”  Peter’s lost in aphasia.

“Are you drunk?” Mr. Stark asks.

“No.  My head,” Peter groans.  “My…I can’t see, I can’t…”

“Slow down.  I don’t get it.”

He sighs.  How to articulate in elusive words that this is the problem?  He can’t think.  He can’t concentrate.  “I…my head hurts.  There’s…there’s lights, my face is falling off…” Peter slurs.  “I don’t…wanna die.”  He doesn’t mean to say it.  But it’s starting to feel like an increasingly plausible fear.

“Oh, kid,” Mr. Stark breathes.  “I think…have you ever had a migraine before?”

Peter shakes his head.  Then he remembers the gesture is no good on the phone, and he exhales, “No.”

“It’s a lot to experience,” Mr. Stark says.  “But you’re not gonna die.  I’ll be right there, ok?  You’re at home?  By yourself, I assume?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok.  Hold on a minute.”  The phone clicks as Mr. Stark hangs up.  Peter drops his forehead to his desk, hoping he can keep his stomach in place.

It turns out he can’t, and it’s all he can do to fling his homework and textbooks out of the way before he brings up a rush of sick over the scuffed tabletop in front of him.  Vomit runs off the edge and onto the floor, and Peter shoves his swivel chair back a couple feet to avoid getting a lapful of the mess.  He balances his elbows on his thighs and buries his face in his hands, relying on the pressure to prevent his head from exploding.

Time passes.  Or maybe it doesn’t.  Peter just sits there, swallowing hard so he doesn’t retch himself into a new level of brain-crushing pain.  There’s a tapping sound from outside his window, but he can’t make himself lift his head.

The rusty metal tracks scrape as the slightly open window is pushed up.  “Kid?  Pete?”  Mr. Stark’s voice asks, slightly distorted by his ironman mask. The red and gold suit flies head first through the window, sending the dusty blinds rustling.  Peter can hardly spare a lift of his head before he’s gagging again and spilling acid and spit down the front of his t-shirt.

“Aw, geez, kid,” Mr. Stark says.  He hovers upright for a second, then releases himself to the floor.  His suit origami folds itself into a band around his forearm, leaving him looking unimposing and almost small in his civilian clothes.  He sinks down to his knees beside Peter’s desk chair.  “Not feeling good, huh?”

“Nuh,” Peter manages, swallowing impending nausea as best he can.

Mr. Stark slides his fingers under Peter’s sweaty bangs.  “Well, no fever.  That’s something.”  He surveys the mess on the desk and floor.  “You think you’re done hurling?”

Peter shrugs.

“How ‘bout you spend a minute in the bathroom anyway?  It’ll probably be good to sit in the dark.”  Mr. Stark helps Peter to his feet.  “You know, I remember the first time this happened to me.  Was about your age.  At MIT.  Puked right in the middle of the physics lab,” he chuckles.

Peter squats, letting his weight leave Mr. Stark’s arm and drapes over the toilet seat instead.  “Ok.  You chill,” Mr. Stark says.  “I’ll, uh, clean up your room a little.”

Peter can’t will himself to say anything.  Mr. Stark pats him gruffly on the back and leaves, snagging a towel on his way.  Peter breathes deeply, practically feeling the scent of the bleach on the toilet water seeping into his head, running down his throat, and turning his stomach again.  He throws up a little bile, and the sound and the smell and the taste compound under his face and make him feel sick all over again.

It dies down, though, eventually.  When Mr. Stark reappears to drag him to his bed, Peter’s not prepared to stand up, but at least his stomach’s mostly back where it belongs.  “Alright, just lie down,” Mr. Stark instructs, removing his hand from Peter’s shoulder once they’re a foot or so from the lumpy mattress.  “I’ll be right back.”  He bends to pick up Peter’s small trash can, which is overflowing with the now sick-sopped towel he’d taken from the rack.

It’s a relief when the mess leaves the confines of the small room and Peter can breathe in clean air again.  The deeper and slower his breaths, the less static there seems to be around his eyeballs.  He drops his jeans and crawls into bed in his t-shirt and underwear, blissfully burying his head in his pillow and blocking out the rest of the world.

“Alright, one last thing,” Mr. Stark says, his footsteps annoyingly loud as he approaches again.  He drops the empty and freshly-lined bin beside the bed, then produces a bottle of pills, a water bottle, and a straw.  “You’ll thank me when you’re doped up.”

Peter squints in the semi-darkness and holds out his trembly hand to accept the white tablets Mr. Stark offers him.  “That’s called Excedrin,” he explains.  “You’ll probably want to buy some.”  He drops the straw into the bottle of water next, holding it so Peter doesn’t have to move in order to gulp down a swig.

Mr. Stark leaves the bottle on Peter’s bedside table.  “Ok.  You all set?  I owe you a towel, but I’ll deal with that later.”

“Thanks,” Peter murmurs.

“Alright, see you later, kid.  Not tomorrow, just, whenever you feel better—”

The sound of a key turning in a lock stuns Mr. Stark to silence.  “Your aunt?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Peter sighs.  He starts to sit up, but hits a wall of dizziness and has to press his face back onto his pillow.

“No, stay put,” Mr. Stark says.  “I got this.”  He moves into the doorway of Peter’s room and poses, leaning languidly against the frame.

Hardly a moment later, Peter hears May pad down the hall and give a little yelp of fright.  “What?  What’s going on?” she demands.

“Well, Pete here called and said he wasn’t feeling good and didn’t want to worry you, so I just thought I’d pop by.  I was…in the neighborhood.”

“Is he ok?” May asks.  Peter can see her concerned face peering around Mr. Stark’s frame to get a glimpse of him curled on his side in bed.

“Yeah, he just has a headache.  You know, like one of those stress migraines.  I gave him a little bit of Excedrin and put him to bed,” Mr. Stark says. “Well, I told him to go to bed.  I didn’t put…he’s not a little kid, and I’m not a creep, so.”

“Well, thank you,” May says, sounding grateful and still a tinge confused.  “What…Is there something I should do?  To make sure he doesn’t get another one?”

Mr. Stark shrugs.  “Let him skip school tomorrow.  I don’t expect him back at my office until he’s feeling better.  I can cut his internship hours if that’s adding to the stress.”

“Hey, no, you don’t, please don’t do that,” Peter mumbles.

“Go to sleep, kid,” Mr. Stark says.  He turns to face into Peter’s room.  “It’s taken me a long time to figure it out, but a solid two and a half decades of working too hard kind of makes you realize it’s not worth it.”

Hot tendrils of prickling nausea flare from Peter’s stomach to his throat to his face.  He tries to think of a decent response, but settles on just keeping his mouth shut.

#fanfic #fanfiction #sickfic #mcu #marvel #spiderman #spider-man: homecoming #peter parker #tony stark #aunt may #migraines #emeto #emetophilia

[quiznakles]

Paladins where they end up in a situation with their not yet s/o like getting trapped where the paladin is stuck on top of them or in a room where the walls were caving in so they were up as close as possible to each other and to anyone else that sees maybe like an aftermath they're like--well I'm just going to get away from you lovebirds. Or this is a mission not a date

Since I made them all separate scenarios it’s really long.

Shiro

~ The mission was easy, they only had to take out a small galra base. The planet was beautiful, and you were loving the fact that you actually got to leave the ship. Allura had assigned you and Shiro to check the area near by to make sure there weren’t any other signs of galra. You were happy, it’d be a nice walk with a Shiro, hopefully.

When the two of you stumbled upon a cave Shiro insisted on looking around in there to make sure, and it wasn’t a bad idea. It wasn’t a bad idea until you decided to pull a cool rock off the wall, and that’s when the cave collapsed. You and Shiro were unharmed, but stuck in a tight space you both managed to fit into when the rocks began to fall.

“Uh, sorry Shiro, I probably shouldn’t have touched anything” You said, feeling a blush on your cheeks. You were pushed awkwardly up against Shiros godly chest with your arms hanging at your side, while his hands were rested on your shoulders.

“It’s fine, I’m sure the others will come looking for us soon” He replied, earning a nod from you. Your left arm was trapped between your body and the rocks, a mixture of pain and uncomfortable feeling ran through your arm.  

“I hope they come soon, my arm is killing me” You said after a minute of silence. Shiro looked over at your arm and hummed in agreement, it did look painful. Shiro was already freaking out, he was stuck with you, your body shoved right against his. It would have been fine if you weren’t his long time crush, but since you were, he was internally panicking.

“Try moving more to your right” He suggested, not wanting you to feel too uncomfortable. As you moved over your leg pushed against his crotch, making you stopped as you looked up at him.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry Shiro that was a complete accident!” You stuttered out, your face almost as red as a tomato, you noted the small blush on his cheeks too.

“It’s fine” He squeezed out. As if having his crush pressed against him wasn’t already bad enough, but having them brush against him like that? Wasn’t the best situation he could be in. His face was still red as he heard people shouting out for him.

“Were in here! Stuck in the rocks!” You yelled out, glad to hear Pidge’s and Hunk’s voice. They dug through the rocks and made an opening. You smiled and went to move out, not before brushing your leg up against Shiro again. Making you and him blush again.

When you both exited with red faces Pidge and Hunk raised and eye brow. Pidge smiled and whistled, “we’ll just be off then” She said, grabbing Hunk and pulling him a way.

Your blush growing darker as you tried to deny what they were thinking, making Shiro laugh. You groaned and glared at him, “You’re lucky I have feelings for you, because if I didn’t you’d be dead” You said without thinking, making you blush even more. Shiro smiled before wrapping an arm around you.

“Well I’m glad you return my feelings” He smoothly replied.

Lance

Go help Lance clean out the closet, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. It was, in fact, not fun. The closet was dusty and had a bad smell to it. You had only agreed in the first place because of your feelings for Lance, and you loved spending time with him, even if you had to clean out an old closet.

The closet was small, with barely enough space to fit one person. So when Lance suggested he held you up to reach a box that was out of reach you weren’t too sure. But here you were, Lance holding you by your waist as you reached for the last box. You leaned forward more, making Lance lean back, hitting his elbow on the control pad, shattering it and closing the door in the process. The sudden loss of light made you frown.

Lance put you down and you gaped at the smashed control pad, you were officially stuck in the smallest closet possible with the Lance McClain. You slapped Lance’s arm and glared at him, “good going Lance, now we’re stuck until someone comes by” You scolded, making Lance pout.

“Aw, c'mon Y/n, who wouldn’t want to be stuck in a closet with me?” He said in a sly tone, making you frown. You were pressed against his chest, your hands resting against his shoulders. He had moved his to rest on your waist, and you were glad it was dark because your face was probably very red.

“I guess it isn’t that bad, i am fond of you” You replied with a shrug of the shoulders, making Lance smile wide. He was honestly so happy right now, you, his crush and him were stuck in a closet. And having you pressed against him made him happier. You’re words making his happiness sky rocket through the roof.

“So you’re fond of me?” He questioned, making you blush. Did you really just admit that. You replied with a shallow nod of your head and he laughed, “I’m so glad the feeling is mutual” He replied, making you look at him with disbelieving eyes.

“Wait, you like like me?” You asked quickly making him laugh again before he pressed his lips to yours, surprising you for a second before you shut your eyes and kissed back. His hands tighter around your waist and pulled you closer, if possible. The kiss was slow and sweet, something you had dreamed of for a long time. You moved your hands up to cup lances face, bringing his face closer to yours.

The swish sound of the door opening startled both of you, Lance, who was leaning on the door had fallen to the floor, and you were left standing, your face beet red. Shiro and Keith looked at the two of you, Keith snickered as he saw Lances and yours red face.

“Looks like we interrupted something” Shiro said, smiling at the two of you. Keith just nodded, looking between the two of you before turning to walk away with Shiro. You helped Lance off and sighed, it was good while it lasted.

Hunk

You and Hunk were walking on a planet that was displaying a distress signal, it was simply a city with a broken ship and once it was fixed they threw a party for everyone. You had pulled Hunk away from the party to take a walk with you, he was hesitant but agreed. It was really nice, until the ground disappeared beneath the two of you, making you both fall into a metal box in the ground. You had fallen on top of Hunk, his body breaking your fall. You were about to stand up when a metal door closed off the top, making you groan.

You looked down at Hunk, “I’m sorry! Am I too heavy?” You asked, looking for a way to support yourself. Hunk chuckled and looked at you, “You’re fine, don’t worry” He replied calmly. You looked at him before relaxing a bit. You had taken a liking to Hunk the past few months, so it only made this position much more awkward. Your hands were on his shoulders supporting your body so your chest was still a few centimeters from his chest while His arms lay by his sides

“It’s going to take forever for the others to find us” You mumbled out. Your neck was starting to aches from the position.

“Yeah, the party won’t end until later on” Hunk replied. You nodded and yawned, it was already later in the night, and you were exhausted from the day before. “Are you tired? Because you could totally sleep if you wanted. Not to be weird or anything” He said, making you smiled.

“That would be nice, but are you sure I’m not too heavy?” You asked again, not wanting to literally crush your crush. He nodded and confirmed you were fine. You smiled and laid your head on his chest, closing your eyes.

Hunk was beyond nervous, his crush was literally on top of him. He didn’t really know how to react, he had never been in this situation before. At least he was with you, that made it a little better.

“This is why I have such strong feelings for you” You mumbled out, regretting your words instantly. Your words made Hunk freeze, you liked him? He smiled and laughed

“And that is why I have such strong feelings for you” He replied, making you smile. You were about to reply but a voice from above the two of you spoke first.

“Aw, look at the love birds finally confess” Lances voice rang through, making you blush. “Ill just leave you two be then” He said, making you boil in anger.

“Lance! Get your damn ass over here and get us out!” You yelled loudly, only to hear Lances laughter ring from near by. You were gonna kill him.

Keith

You had not expected this to happen. You and Keith were walking through a forest on a planet everyone had landed on, it was nice, for a while. There was a trap, that both you and Keith had missed. As soon as you stepped on the pile of leaves a net rope was pulled up, taking the two of you with it. So here you were, basically straddling your crush and you were smashed together by the net. His face was smothered by your chest, before you sat down on his lap.

“Sorry!” You exclaimed, your face red. You never thought your crush would ever have his face pressed against your chest.  

“It’s fine” Keith replied, his eyes looking anywhere but yours. You sighed and looked around, this was idiotic, how could you have fallen for such a stupid trap.

“Man. This really sucks, it’s gonna take forever for someone to find us” You whined, moving around in Keith’s lap, unknowingly you were grinding into him. Keith took in a deep breath and placed his hands on your hips, stopping your movement.

“Please. Don’t do that” He said, making your eyes widen in realization.  Your cheeks flushed as you tried to speak.

“I, uh, I really didn’t, I wasn’t meaning to do that, I’m so sorry” You sputtered, your hands coming to rest on your cheeks.

“It’s fine, just try and stay still” He said, looking back at you. You looked into his eyes, the eyes you had fallen for.

Keith stared into your eyes, he could see the worry in your eyes. He sighed, this was terribly awkward, and you moving on his lap like that didn’t help at all. He kinda wished he was stuck with someone other than his crush, but at the same time he was glad to be this close to you.

“Uh, can I put my hands on your shoulders?” You asked, holding your hands to your chest was becoming uncomfortable. Keith nodded and you set your hands in his shoulders. Your eyes wandering to his hair, it looked so soft a pond you’d kill to be able to run your fingers through it.

“This position is really awkward” You said randomly, making Keith look at you.

“Yeah it is” He replied. You started to move again, putting your feet on his thighs. You pushed against him, pushing your back against the net. There was a slight ripping sound before the two of you fell to the ground, the net had ripped.

You groaned, you had landed on your back, really hard. You opened your eyes to see Keith above you, his hands on the ground by your head, and your legs were between his. You blushed and looked up at him, he looked almost as flustered.

Keith leaned down a little, he was going for a kiss. You leaned up a little and just before your lips touched a booming voice rang through the dense trees. You and Keith both flew a meter apart, both of your faces red.

Lance stood close by, a smile on his face. “I’ll let Allura know there’s nothing to worry about” He said before running off. Well, at least you knew Keith returned your feelings.

Pidge

Well this was awkward. It was fun at first, watching as Pidge do her technical stuff to fix up an enemy trap. You had decided to hand around and talk with her while she did it, and it was relaxing. But then she asked you to try it, which you we’re weary of, but agreed. It had worked perfectly, and Pidge had opened it a second after if closed. She climbed in with you and opened the temporary control panel, her back pressed against yours. The exit closed with a bang and you froze, Pidge seemed to be frozen too.

“It wasn’t supposed to do that” She mumbled, making your eyes widen.

“What?! Open it up again Pidge!” You panicked.

“I can’t open it from inside!” She yelled back, shutting the panel. You groaned, this was terrible. “Here turn around” She said, which you obliged to. She turned around to and sat facing you now. “Now we can talk until someone finds us”

Your eye twitched and you grabbed her shoulders, “that could be days Pidge! It could take forever, oh god, we’re going to die here” You sputtered out, making Pidge grab your face.

“They’ll find us, quit panicking” She said, making you sigh.

“I don’t know why I have such a big crush on you, I always end up in a predicament like this when I hang out with you” You mumbled.

Pidges eyes widened when you said that. Her heart beating faster, you liked her too? She honestly didn’t mind being in here with you, she loved to spend time with you and being this close to you made it all the better.

“Well I have a crush on you too so we’re stuck on the same boat” She replied. Making you stutter incoherent words. She smiled and squished your cheeks. “Shhh, I hear someone”

She was right, the door opened and you could see light again, along with Hunk looking over the edge at you two. Your face was a bright red while Pidge just smiled.

“I’ll uh, just leave you two then” He quickly said, leaving the awkward situation. Pidge smiled and pulled you into a hug, making you smile.

#voltron headcanons #voltron imagines #voltron scenarios #voltron x reader #voltron #voltron legendary defender #shiro headcanons #voltron shiro #takashi shirogane #shiro #voltron lance #lance headcanons #lance mcclain #lance #hunk headcanons #voltron hunk #hunk garrett #hunk #voltron keith #keith headcanon #keith kogane #Keith #voltron pidge #pidge headcanon #pidge gunderson #Pidge #shiro x reader #lance x reader #hunk x reader

[mischiefs]

       ghostwriter                  entry one

       THE LAST RESORT: PART 01

monday, 1:35 am, louisiana

                    the car breaks down just after we’ve passed through sorrento. there’s a hand against my cheek and i wake up as the old thing sputters out, just in time to hear herschel say something about calling a tow truck. i make a bad joke about them being able to communicate with the car. their laugh is only halfway there.

                    the air is thick and metallic, like every time you breathe there’s a little bit of blood in your mouth, and herschel’s hands are shaking. i get out of the car to make the call, leave herschel inside to collect themselves. it’s been a long day and an even longer night, as they usually are in herschel’s company, and i can tell they’re not doing so well. the cracked-out highway goes for miles down the top of louisiana’s foot and shadows stretch longer than i think i’ve ever seen. the radio is mostly dead, save a few stations playing some ukelele, a bit of ragtime, and one with a few gargled voices, but now the only sounds are crickets and soft groans as the car settles. 

                    something you need to understand is that herschel is not like anyone you’ll ever meet, and not just because of the ghosts. it’s more because of them. there’s this energy around them like nothing you’ve ever seen, like they’re made of radio static and broken christmas lights, like there’s something inside them that just broke one day and never quite got fixed, but they’ve learned to live around it. it’s captivating and confusing and beautifully tragic and it makes you want to hold them like you’ve never held anyone in your life. or maybe that’s just me. they’re all ghostlights and the poltergeists that dance behind their smile, wrap around their laughter. there are ghosts that gather somewhere in the empty parts of their ribcage and sing these tinny little soup can jingles when they speak. there is so much more to them than their skin and bones. it’s almost eighty degrees, but i shiver.

monday, 1:46 am, somewhere outside of sorrento

                    we sit on the hood of the car and wait. the breeze is warm and sticky and it feels like spiderwebs against our skin, our shoulders pressed together as we breathe slowly into the night. they smell like sugar cookies and death and i press my face against their shoulder like somehow that’s going to fix all of this. our fingers are tangled and i can feel their pulse against my skin;; erratic, ill-tempered, fuzzy and blurred where it should be steady, familiar. my mouth tastes like bad sangria and pennies. i sigh against their skin and the world slows down. the stars rearrange themselves and sleep is heavy on my eyelids, but so is death on theirs. i try to stay awake.

monday, 2:30 am, big al’s tires and parts

                    i fell asleep. my eyes are warm and bleary when i open them, and i’m curled up against herschel on the couch of an auto shop, their voice soft as they talk to a man with an abrasive voice and a thick southern accent. he sounds like he smokes and i wonder, absently, if there are any ghosts around. if there are, herschel is unfazed. they blink and nod, unaware that i’m awake, their arm around my back and my legs across their lap. there are bleary, smudgy lines beneath their eyes and something a bit haunted behind them, but it’s not too concerning. i look up at them for a moment before reaching my hand up and bopping their nose softly. they smile and press a kiss to my forehead. things are good.

monday, 3:13 am, martha’s diner

                    herschel looks like they’ve seen a ghost, and they probably have. they taught me, a while ago, the signs of haunted places. the air around you gets cold ( kind of like their hands ) and there’s this sort of buzzing you can’t get out of your head ( like neon sign smiles ), and if that’s so, this place is haunted as shit. the waitress has a thick southern accent and a smile like a light bulb and eyes like glass. when she looks at me i feel blank inside and i can feel herschel’s gaze on me. back to her. back to me. there’s something they aren’t saying and i have a feeling i don’t want to know. she pours us coffee and herschel doesn’t touch theirs until i push it towards them, urging them to drink. they do, however reluctantly.

                    the pancakes are alright, but exceptionally bland. i make a joke about how much butter i’ve put on them but herschel stares over my shoulder. i ask them what with a mouthful and they tell me it’s nothing, but there’s no UNIVERSE in which herschel staring blankly over someone’s shoulder means nothing. their voice is pressed, like something heavy is sitting on their chest. i glance over my right shoulder as if i could ever see the things they see and turn back, reaching across the table and picking up their hand, playing softly with their fingers. it’s a grounding method;; something to keep them here, keep them from straying too far off the beaten path. their hand tightens around mine, lacing our fingers together completely, like a rope tied to a pier in a hurricane. i, silently, wait out the storm.

monday, 3:56 am, ( last ) resort motel

                   i get hersch to laugh at around four am. we check into this place called the RESORT MOTEL;; dirt cheap, run by a woman that sounds like an anti-smoking ad, definitely not a resort ( though they do boast a wonderful ‘ CLOSED FOR CLEANING ’ kidney shaped pool ), and in the middle of buttfuck nowhere louisiana. that’s not exactly true, though. the resort motel is framed by martha’s diner and a liquor store, and big al’s is a ways down the road, but i digress. i made some dumb joke about this motel being less of a RESORT and more of a LAST RESORT, and i actually got them to laugh. it was so unbelievably nice to hear it again. it was tired and a bit hard pressed, but it was a laugh. 

                   we’ve gotten ourselves all settled ( or at least as settled as one can be in a motel ) and the faded warnings of sunrise peek through dusty blinds. herschel gives me a pointed look from their place propped up against the pillows and i glance at them knowingly before taking my place all wrapped up in familiar arms. the air is still thick and a bit intoxicating, like it swims somewhere deep in my lungs, and it can hear it in the subtle patter of herschel’s heartbeat. the night is slow and my eyes are heavy as the wallpaper pattern seems to drip down onto the carpet. i tell them i love them. they know.

monday, 5:42 am, room 13

                   i wake up alone and my mouth tastes like salt and static. my limbs are tangled in the sheets and even though the windows are open i’ve got these cold sweats, like the air is conflicting itself. i pause for a moment, listen for another. there’s shallow breathing coming from the bathroom and i, like the dumb horror film protagonist herschel is always calling me, stand, straighten out my ( their ) t-shirt, and move towards it.

                   the door is cold, colder than the rest of the room, when i press my hand against it, and there’s a chilling feeling that takes over my body. something’s wrong, and my voice is more urgent when i say their name this time. the other side of the door is quiet. it’s only after five minutes that the door finally creaks open and it feels like stepping into a snowstorm. herschel is slumped against the sink looking close to dead, so much so it’s all too easy for me to ignore everything else and rush straight towards them. 

                    ❝   hey, hey, i’m right here, okay ? i love you. what can i do hersch how can i            how can i fix this ?  ❞   my words sound more like prayers than they do sentences, whispered as my hands find their cheeks and the tears find my eyes. i move from a kneeling position to sitting in the corner against the shower door, pulling their body so they’re framed by my legs like tiny barriers, one arm wrapped around the back of their neck and the other softly pushing back the hair that’s fallen across their forehead.  ❝   it’s all okay. we’re gonna be okay.  ❞  i say, ignoring the uninformed nature of my promises as i run soft hands through their hair, use the corner of my shirt to wipe the blood from their nose.

                    i catch something out of the corner of my eye and my body goes blank like it did in the diner. floating in the middle of the room is a swirling, vaguely woman shaped figure, the echoes of screams and sobbing like a faded theme song behind her. a spirit. 

                    i beg them, fruitlessly, to stop, and there’s a puff of air against my collarbone that sounds a lot like herschel saying don’t. there’s no reasoning with ghosts, they once explained, they have nothing left to lose.

                    and so, with bodies like radio static and crashing waves, we wait.

#how do i even tag this #✧ : ･ ﾟ— ag. #✧ : ･ ﾟ— drive towards the place we left behind. ( h e r s c h e l ) #✧ : ･ ﾟ— self para. #✧ : ･ ﾟ— ghostwriter. #✧ : ･ ﾟ— entry one. #ghost tw #just in case im gonna hit this up with tws #death tw