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stevebabey · 1 year

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part one, part two, part three. this a part four. this is so accidentally long but hickies as promised, w a brief return out touch starved steve <3 mwah!

Eddie is sure his kiss tastes of uncertainty.

He can’t help the way his lips betray his nervousness in their obvious restraint. He knows he had been far more enthusiastic last night, eagerness behind every kiss. This kiss is… softer. Shyer.

He can’t help it. Because even though Steve said yes, had maybe flattened Eddie’s heart by adding a please, Eddie’s still… unsure. Still worried. Still waiting for a punch to come because that’s what happens to boys who kiss boys.

But… Steve’s hands are still holding onto Eddie’s wrists, keeping them in their place where they cup Steve’s face so gently. When Eddie had leaned in, lips grazing Steve’s, he had felt the other’s tightening grip like a silent prayer, saying come close, stay close. Even now, the grip around Eddie’s wrists holds firm.

Though it’s the last thing he wants, Eddie breaks the kiss. He draws back, savouring the moment — the sweetness of Steve’s lips for what might be the final time — with his eyes shut tight. Did I do it right this time? He thinks, he hopes. Can I kiss you and keep you?

“I’m…” Steve starts, his voice a whisper. Eddie’s eyes open. His fingers flex along Steve’s jaw instinctively. “Really confused.” Steve admits quietly.

His face is reserved. Only slight ripples of anxiety peek through. The crinkle between his brows speaks of his abundance of confusion. Eddie’s eyes drink in every expression and he can’t stop help how his eyes catch back on Steve’s lips. He stares when Steve speaks.

“I thought you— I thought you didn’t want…”

“Didn’t want this?” Eddie echoes, with a tone of incredulity, eyes darting back up to look Steve in the eye. He punctuates the last word with another touch, the pad of his thumb touching Steve’s bottom lip bravely.

Steve shivers. His eyes flutter for a moment, in a way Eddie has come to know means his strange aversion to touch is flaring up but — but Steve’s hands keep Eddie from moving away when he tries. Steve nods slowly.

Eddie swallows — tries to push down the ache to kiss him again. They’re still twisted; Steve still doesn’t get it.

Neither does Eddie though. He can’t even imagine what Steve came over to apologise for. What mental gymnastics he had put himself through to somehow be the one who needs to apologise in this situation.

“Where the fuck,” Eddie breathes softly, with an appalled chuckle, letting Steve know he wasn’t mad. Wasn’t in the slightest bit annoyed, only confused. “Did you get that idea?”

Beneath his hands, Eddie can feel Steve’s cheeks grow hotter. The colour soon follows, a glorious crimson that fills the apples of his cheeks. And sure, fine, okay, sue Eddie if he enjoys the sight a little too much. Steve all flushed in the face, ears definitely warmer than they were a second ago.

Steve starts to stammer. “You— You sounded annoyed when I was leaving.” His brows are nearly touching in the middle, drawn together in concern. “I thought you were regretting—“

Eddie interrupts to clarify, suddenly aware of where they’d gotten so muddled. “I sounded annoyed because you were leaving, Steve. Not…”

Not because you asked for a kiss. Eddie’s throat dries up. He can’t say it aloud, not just yet. The words dance on the tip of his tongue. Eddie doesn’t trust himself not to fumble them.

Even though, Steve’s sudden departure had been due to a genuine misunderstanding, Eddie can’t— he’s not… He’s got to be realistic with himself, just in case. Not say too much too soon.

Steve reads into the silent lull in Eddie’s words and in an instant, his eyes are widening in understanding. Somehow, his cheeks glow even warmer.

“Oh,” Steve says, the word doused in relief, in understanding. “Oh my god—“

The rest of his sentence is lost as a car drives by, tires groaning loudly along the tar road. It serves as a quick reminder of where they are. In public, in such close proximity. Eddie steps back instantly, hands ripping away from Steve as a lick of panic runs up his spine. His eyes track the pale blue car down the road.

They were covered by the van but, still.

“C’mon,” Steve says softly, calling to catch his attention.

The panic wavers wildly for a moment before eventually relenting, Eddie dropping his shoulders as he turns back to Steve. He’s delighted to find Steve is no less red in the face.

Steve clears his throat, “We can call a tow back at yours.”

He gestures to his car, an invitation, with a smile. Eddie’s not even sure he’s meant to say something so reassuring; a mixture of the use of we and the implication Steve would come back home with him. Would come inside.

Eddie can’t help how he ogles at Steve. He’s doing another once-over to make sure Steve isn’t a mirage about to fade. Maybe Eddie had actually crashed his van when the engine spluttered on him and all this was a weird and extremely vivid coma dream.

Except, Steve doesn’t look perfect — not like a dream would.

Eddie can tell from the flatness of his hair, he likely didn’t sleep well. He’s got a tired but kind smile on. It’s shyer than Eddie’s ever seen before.

He’s still wearing that bright green Family Video vest for Christ’s sake — if Eddie was in a coma, he had some serious self-reflection to do if his brain picked this as his dream-Steve fit.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, with a nod and a smile of his own. “Lemme, uh, lemme just grab my stuff.”

Eddie turns to hide his face before Steve can see it grow into a wild frenzied smile, too gleeful to contain. He pops the driver’s side door and scurries around, grabbing all the essentials; cigarettes, lighters, and tapes with actual good music on them.

Steve’s waiting for him, still in the same spot when he slides the door shut. Eddie works the rusted lock to lock it up. No, Eddie thinks gleefully, this is not a dream.

Steve is surprised it’s not more awkward.

Not that he wants that— honestly, this sweet in-between phase where Eddie keeps glancing over at him, brown eyes longing and like he was checking if Steve was still there, as he talked on the phone, suited Steve just fine. More than fine.

And yeah, okay, maybe Steve swooned a bit when Eddie started twirling the cord of the phone, so much like a lovey-dovey teenage girl that Steve nearly laughed aloud. He wasn’t sure if Eddie even realised he was doing it. Just leant up against the wall, stealing glances at Steve — his fingers fiddling with the cord til they began looping it over and over.

Steve wouldn’t though— laugh at Eddie, that is. It feels pretty much impossible to do anything except sit with all his giddiness, just knowing that… his feelings for Eddie are mutual.

That Eddie hadn’t regretted the kisses in the slightest. That Eddie had wanted Steve for just as long.

It’s achingly sweet to look back on that first hug Steve had asked for — knowing they had both been toeing the line, trying desperately to keep their pining to themselves. Idiots, Steve scoffs to himself affectionately, they were both idiots.

Rerunning the memory of his hasty exit last night is less of a breezy memory. Steve doesn’t want to think too hard about what malicious ideas Eddie’s brain might have spun up to taunt himself.

He must’ve thought that Steve had left for entirely worse reasons. That the reason Steve hadn’t been able to look at him because he thought Eddie was… that he regretted… Steve shakes his head. None of those thoughts are pretty.

And, more importantly, they were untrue. Steve very much liked those kisses. His only regret that night was leaving the way he did. Honest, Steve would have more kisses if he could.

Something scorches across his heart delightfully because he can have more kisses — he just has to ask.

“Okay, thank you so much,” Eddie says appreciatively into the receiver. He dashes another look over at Steve, an apology in the form of his sorry grimace. He focuses back on the phone. “Yeah, I’ll be in tomorrow to see the damage. Thanks, again.”

He sets the phone back in the cradle and for a moment, Steve can’t see his face. Can’t see any of the nervous contemplation. Eddie finally seems to grasp his courage and spins, fixing Steve with a smile.

“Um,” He says, a nervous chuckle leaking through. Eddie moves closer but he moves all skittish, one of his sneakers catching on nothing. He stumbles just a bit, taking a quick seat on the couch arm beside Steve.

“Wh—“ Eddie starts to say. He huffs another nervous chuckle, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “This might be a stupid question but what… now?”

Steve thinks for a moment. He’s considering how to go about this when Eddie blurts out in a hopeful tone— “More kissing?”

There’s an unspoken please. Steve revels in the blush that follows the words.

He smirks up at Eddie, eyes tracing the bloom of pink on his cheeks. “What? On the couch, like I’m some common whore?”

“You seemed to have no problem with it last time, my liege.” Eddie points out dramatically, all with a grin.

“And I have no intention of repeating last time.” Steve counters. Then frowns.

“Well, except for the good part.” He corrects himself. “The first part! Just- Christ, can we go to your room instead, please?”

Eddie’s on his feet in an instant. He brings his hand up to his forehead and gives a salute with enough force to rip his arm off. Then marches down the hall and disappears into his room without waiting for Steve.

Steve thinks the nerves might be getting to him.

He walks the steps he’s walked a hundred times before, crossing into Eddie’s room and pressing the door shut behind him.

Eddie’s sat on the bed, criss-cross apple sauce style. He’s kicked his sneakers off — one’s by Steve’s foot, the other on the other side of the room.

Steve swallows and toes off his own shoes. He approaches the bed, climbing on gingerly and folding his limbs to match Eddie. That familiar swoop of nerves sits oh-so present in the pit of his stomach. Steve tries to think of it as a good thing — it’s good to have something so good that he’s nervous in his excitement.

For a moment, they just sit. Staring at one another. One of Eddie’s fingers is digging into the rips of his jeans, toying with the loose strands. It gives away his restless energy.

Steve waits. He asked last time and he knows — he knows Eddie wants to kiss him. But a small part of him…

“Why is this so hard?” Eddie blurts out all of a sudden. Like before, the words seem like they’ve come out without Eddie realising, but he barrels on. “Shit, I’m so fucking nervous. You make me so nervous, Steve.”

Eddie’s eyes won’t settle. They dart around. Move from Steve’s eyes to his lips, down, to the bed sheet beneath them. Like he still isn’t sure if he’s truly allowed to look. His admission makes Steve sorta wanna roll over and scream into the pillow. In a good way.

“I’m— Me too," Steve admits, a smile curling at his lips. “The- fuck, the way I feel about you honestly scares me shitless.”

Eddie seems to be both chuffed and relieved at his words.

“But I… want to kiss you,” Steve says assuredly. The next sentence he poses as a question, words a little more hesitant. More nervous. “And… and you want to kiss me?”

Across the bed, Eddie grabs a piece of his hair, twisting it nervously as he pulls it to cover his face. His usual nervous tell. Steve can’t help how he breaks into a grin when Eddie nods fervently.

“Cool.” Steve breathes. Then mentally smacks himself for saying cool. He tries to recover but Eddie beats him to it, with a question of his own. “Can I kiss you now?”

Steve answers by shuffling closer, til their knees are touching and then — like beside the road earlier — mimics the touch Eddie had given him.

Hands on either side of Eddie’s face, gentle as they curl under his jaw. Steve can feel the curls of his hair tickling at his fingertips. Another inch forward and he’d be burying his hands in Eddie’s hair. Steve bookmarks that urge for later.

Eddie looks nervous. Steve is undoubtedly making it worse, taking his time like this. But he can’t help it.

He wants to look — wants to stare, wants to devour every detail of Eddie’s face. Commit it to memory so he can picture it with his eyelids closed. What Eddie Munson looks like while waiting for a kiss.

The amount of affection that swells in Steve’s chest hits like a sucker-punch, enough he sucks in a tiny breath. He can see the smallest quiver in Eddie’s lip.

“You gonna stare all day, Harrington?” Eddie teases, but it lacks conviction when the words wobble a bit.

“Just enjoying the view,” Steve remarks, and then, finally, he kisses Eddie.

It’s the floodgate. It’s a frenzy, kiss after kiss after kiss, the softness of them slipping away in lieu of making up for missed time. Steve kisses every apology onto Eddie’s lips and he receives forgiveness a dozen times back. It’s bliss.

Eddie’s a very enthusiastic partner, to say the least. He’s a little messier with his kisses, hands gripping the front of Steve’s shirt tightly, pressing forward in a way that pushes Steve back— but Steve certainly doesn’t mind. He removes his hands from Eddie’s face to lower himself back, elbows against the comforter as Eddie follows eagerly.

For a moment, a sprout of doubt pulls them apart. Eddie hovers, not getting too close. “This is… this is okay?”

Steve grabs him by the collar and tugs him down, meeting him in the middle for another kiss. It’s a fat unanimous yes. Something glows hot in his chest when Eddie smiles into the kiss. Grins even. In fact, he has to take a moment to cheese it out, his face tucked into hiding against the crook of Steve’s neck.

Steve doesn’t mind. His hand strokes idly over Eddie’s hair, twisting in with the curls. He lets him take his time, lets Eddie work back up the nerve to kiss him again, except— with a gasp, Steve squirms at the sudden kiss on his neck, hot and soft.

“I think you were the one overdue for a hickie,” Steve breathes, hands threading through Eddie’s hair gently. He doesn’t pull him away though; lets Eddie figure out the best way to scrape his teeth against Steve’s skin as best he likes.

“Uh huh,” Eddie murmurs, barely heard. He’s too distracted.

“Eddie,” Steve tries, but it comes out far too close to a sigh. He tries again, this time with a proper tug to pull Eddie back from him.

It’s a bit of leftover King Steve the way he manoeuvres the both of them, rolling deftly so it’s Eddie upon his back and Steve hovering above him. Eddie manages to look both impressed and disgruntled at once.

Steve doesn’t let him get a word out. The pale stretch of skin down Eddie’s neck has been calling his name for too long and Steve is hungry for it. He grants Eddie one, two, three more kisses on his lips before he’s moving down.

He’s just getting started, lips pressed to hot skin when it happens. Eddie’s hands move up, skirting barely up and under Steve’s shirt, fingers searching. The unpleasant aversion prickles under Steve’s skin.

He locks up. He’s unable to do anything but; it feels helpless even as he tries to shake it off but he knows, he knows Eddie can feel it as he grows rigid under the touch.

It’s worse when Eddie tries to reel his touch back in. Steve wants to cry with frustration because it’s not Eddie— it’s fucking him.

“Don’t,” Steve pleads, his hand diving down to catch Eddie’s wrist and holding it there. He knows Eddie’s watching him closely, even as Steve’s eyes scrunch shut and he fights to fend off the uncomfortable feeling attempting to make home under his skin.

“It’s…” Steve wills himself to look Eddie in the eye, hoping the sincerity bleeds through his words. “It’s not you, Eds. Just— fuck, just… give me a second, okay?”

He releases Eddie’s wrist. Eddie nods, a minuscule motion. His brown eyes are watching Steve closely, darting all over his face wildly and after a moment, they still on his lips. Eddie makes a decision and pushes forward, planting a tender kiss on the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“S’okay,” He assures. Then gives Steve another kiss, this time on the lips, slow and sweet. Steve drinks it in, tries to savour the feeling of being kissed by someone who wants him. Wants him in every way they can have him. It's maddening.

Eddie’s hand moves an inch cautiously, testing the waters as his fingertips trace the skin of Steve’s tummy. He doesn’t flinch when Steve stiffens up again.

Like he can sense the frustration building up in the other boy, he captures Steve’s lips with his gently. Whispers against them again as soothingly as he can. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

It’s like the words run across the raised hackles of Steve’s soul, soothing and seeping out the tension from every muscle. Steve can feel himself relax under the words. Feels something inside him wobble and then tip over, finally soothed, finally settled.

This time when Eddie’s hand grazes along his waist, Steve shivers in a good way— and leans in closer, kissing back. His hands clutch back at Eddie’s hair, raking through to grip it sweetly. He tugs, jerking Eddie’s chin up and exposing his throat.

“Can I…” Steve begins. It’s a tease.

“Shut up,” Eddie grinds out, hands fixed on Steve’s waist. Now he knows he can touch, that Steve isn’t tensing up or flinching away, his hands are rabid. Hungry. They crawl across the skin, leaving hot scorch marks behind that tingle delightfully. “This hickie is so overdue.”

Steve grins wolfishly.

Eddie’s neck is a thorough shade of violet by the time he’s done, chest heaving. He looks devilishly handsome when Steve pulls back to admire his work and he barely gets a moment before Eddie’s back on him, lips hot against Steve’s own.

“My go.”

This time when Steve’s getting ready to leave, he half-heartedly pulls on his shoes. It’s a pitiful attempt to slow down the inevitable. He can’t believe leaving is harder this time; maybe it’s more to do with the hickies adoring his own neck and collarbones.

“Hey, I-“ Steve starts, already feeling flush in the face. Eddie’s watching him pack his stuff up, still pink in the face, but so evidently content with himself. He’s laid back on the bed, arms crossed behind his head. He’s showing off the dark lovebites on his skin, neck craned proudly.

“Mm?” Eddie hums, a cheeky smile on his face.

“When I— Robin.” Steve says, flashing a hand to his neck. “She’s- she’s probably gonna ask.”

Steve swallows. He somehow gets the feeling Eddie already knows what he’s going to ask — that he’s waiting for him to say it. Eddie’s grin says as much.

“And when she does, I—“ Steve continues, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. The kisses on it tingle beneath his own touch. “Can I… call you my boyfriend?”

Eddie glows. It’s the only word for the excited laugh that punches out of him, like a gleeful goblin.

Steve thinks he might just be falling all over again when Eddie rolls over and buries his face in his pillow. He pretends for Eddie’s sake not to hear his muffled shout that’s almost a squeal. His cheeks are ruby red by the time he sticks his face back out, his grin so wide it makes his eyes crinkle in the corner.

“Yes,” Eddie says, voice giddy. “Yes, please.”

And Steve’s so fucking glad he asked for that stupid hug way back when, because got a gremlin-level of affectionate boyfriend now to show for it.

and that's likely a wrap on the can i series for now ! i had an inkling of an idea for future but tbh i wasn't supposed to write this i like have 7 other fics callin my name. but alas! thank u so very much for the love on this, whether sending kisses to my touch starved self or talking bout needing a hug too in the tags <3 hopefully this heals all the right places <3 mwah my loves

tags below:

@original-cypher @maya-custodios-dionach @uwujinniee @attic-cat-blog @immortal-iratze @anaibis @orangeandthefairroadkill @etaka @silversnaffles @invisibleflame812 @eddie-hero-munson @jesskier @princess-eddie @impeachy @estrellami-1 @bloomingconflagration @newtstabber @iwouldsail @sundead @darksmistress @sydstroons @leethegay @superchellerific @eddielives1986 @jinxjinn @breealtair @steddieassheg0es @loopholesinmydreams @savory-babby @alittlegreyfish @izzy2210 @em9515 @killjoy-patrixtump @mrspasser @spectrum-spectre

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bkdk-and-extras · 1 year

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...AU where bkdk become roommates, strangers to Daily Inconveniences to "youre not so bad... but dont you fucking Ever eat my katsudon again" and finally friends. but make izuku a theater kid/dramatic nerdy soul and katsuki a jock/punk/band kid or whatever.

Eventually they get comfy enough with each other for izuku to tease him ✨️ waxing poetic Shakespeare ✨️ style over one of katsuki's woes while izuku himself spins in his dorky desk chair. Just as izuku makes the third spin to catch another a blurry glance, Katsuki slams his palms down on the chair arms, barks out an affectionate "fuck you" and flicks his forehead. It doesnt deter the little shit in the slightest

This becomes a bit between them and eventually katsuki gets in on it too. Its contagious, sue him... but somehow those eyes are far too fond and words a little too sincere as they play out a tragic love story to make their friends giggle, and well. If he kisses the nerd's hand, its all apart of the act, right?

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fckyouiwontdowhatyoutellme · 11 months

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I should do important stuff but my brain was like "hey remember that thing that happened to you years ago? Yeah well make that steddie and give it to the tumblr crowd!" Yeah so i do that now instead. (Apologies for mistakes, I'm only halfway through my first coffee)

Eddie was touchy, that was known amongst pretty much everyone by now. He was also a menace and a bisexual desaster and while the latter was only known by certain people, evryone knew he was a menace too. The current victim of his touchyness was no other than Steve. Yep. That Steve. Notorious ladies man and hopeless crush of one Eddie Munson since 4 years.

Through the unfortunate fate of the Upside Down Eddie got closer to his crush than he ever dreamed before. Sure okay it took him almost dying and months of physical therapy and healing but he'd take anything if it got him closer to the man of his dreams. Sue him, he's in love.

By now it was nothing unusual to be invited to hang out with the older teens of the Upside Down crew, wich is how he found himself squished between Steve, Robin and Nancy on the Wheelers couch. Was the couch made for four people? No. But it got him almost on top of Steve wich was more body contact than he expected from today. Counting in the poking/tickling attacks on Steve earlier today.

He loved to tickle Steve ever since he found out where to poke. It was an accident when Eddie was slipping on the tiled floor of Steve's kitchen, arms flailing and grabbing the first thing within reach to stabilize himself. Said first thing was Steve, who flinched as soon as Eddie grabbed his sides. He tried to play it off as being surprised by the sudden impact of the other's hands but being the menace he is, Eddie dug his fingers into Steves side, earning a yelp and a slap to his fingers. That was the moment he knew Steve was ticklish and he was gonna use it as an excuse to be close to him.

You see Eddie may be a little slow on the uptake when it comes to flirting, but he knew how to bother people the right way to get a reaction out of them. With Steve that meant poking his sides at random whenever they were together. Usually it earned him a playful slap on the fingers or Steve would just duck away with a "Come on man, stop it". But recently his reactions had changed the slightest bit. He'd still duck away or slap Eddie's hands but the last few times it was always accompanied by the faintest blush on his cheeks. Eddie took that as a hint to up his game and see where it would lead him, maybe his crush wasn't as unrequited as he thought.

Today he was this close to screaming in frustration. When he met up with Steve, Robin and Nancy to search a birthday present for Mike, he didn't let the presence of the girls stop him from being all over Steve. A poke to his ribs here, coming up behind him for a surprise double poke attack there. Eddie couldn't help himself, he just had to touch Steve or he'd feel like exploding. But not only Eddie had upped his game, no to his delight Steve finally got the memo to show an actual reaction to his teasing. And what a reaction that was. One moment his hands were poking Steve, the next he found himself pinned to the nearest wall. His hands held in a strong grasp above his head and body very close to his own. "You really are a menace today, are you?" Steve asked with a surprisingly sweet smile.

For a moment, Eddie was speechless. Was this some crazy realistic dream? Because the only time this happened so far was in his dreams. But he quickly found his words again when he saw the playful glint in Steve's eyes. "What you gonna do about it Stevie, huh? You know this won't stop me for long" he said with a grin, hoping his voice didn't sound as squeaky as it was in his head. Speaking of wich, his brain currently was an endless loop of 'holy shit, holy fuck, steve is touching me, aaaaaaaaaaaah'.

Steve let out a small chuckle and released Eddies hands from his grasp, taking a step back. "I'll find a way to stop you, trust me Eddie" with that he turned around and went back to searching Nancy and Robin. Eddie took a few deep breaths and only now noticed that his face was burning. He probably looked like an overripe tomato and his pants felt a little tighter all of a sudden but holy shit that reaction was only egging him on more. Call him crazy but he wanted to see what else Steve came up with.

Wich gets us back to Eddie being squished on the Wheelers couch. The day of shopping and hanging out had turned into an impromptu movie night/sleepover and now they were watching some movie. Eddie had no idea wich one because his brain was still racing with memories of earlier and 'holy shit i am so fucking close to steve'. The other three teens were commenting the movie and usually Eddie would be with them but not today, oh no he was still on a mission. Mission Get-Steve-to-do-something-to-me-so-I-know-if-I-can-kiss-him, wich was resuming after Eddies internal freakout of being very very close to Steve. He was so close that he could see every freckle, every mole on his face and neck and he wanted to trace every one of them wether with his fingers or his tongue. There were two moles on Steve's neck that looked like a vampire bite and before Eddie knew it he reached out to run his finger along them.

Steve's breath hitched ever so slightly and Eddie could feel him shivering the tiniest bit. Was he ticklish on his neck too? Only one way to find out. Steve's eyes were still glued to the TV, like he was trying to ignore Eddie's fingers on his throat. Slowly Eddie moved his fingers around the side of Steve's neck, featherlight in his movements to lull him into a false sense of security. There. When he reached the spot just below his ear, Steve let out a muffled little noise. Feeling a grin spread across his face Eddie moved his fingers a bit faster around the spot, resulting in Steve twitching and pressing his lips together to stay quiet. He shot Eddie an annoyed look but it was disrupted by red cheeks. Eddie only grinned wider, trying to look as sweet and innocent as possible, still slightly scratching Steve's ticklish spot.

And then, just like earlier Steve was on him in a split second. Grabbing Eddies hand, yanking it away from his neck and quickly intertwining their fingers. Eddie barely heard Robins protest of almost getting elbowed in the face over the blood rushing in his ears. Steve was holding his hand. Their fingers were intertwined and it felt like a puzzlepiece clicking into place. Eddies heart was racing and he suddenly had the terrifying thought that Steve could probably feel it through his pulse. It only got worse when Steve leaned over and whispered: "Is that what you wanted Eds?". Eddie tried to tug his hand away from Steve, this was too much to handle for his brain right now. "Nope, you stay here. I don't mind holding your hand if it means you stop tickling me" that fried Eddies brain entirely and he actually stayed still for once in his life. Or at least for the rest of the movie.

As soon as the movie was over, Robin announced that she was hungry and so Nancy called for a snack break. The girls went to the kitchen to order some pizza, leaving the boys alone in the living room. Steve has let go of Eddies hand when Nancy turned on the lights and he already missed the warmth. When Steve went to go to the bathroom he used what little time he had to gather his thoughts and make some mental notes to his mission status. So far tickling Steve got him an embarrasing half boner at the store and some really nice handholding. That could have been enough for now but no, Eddies lovestruck gremlin brain (or heart?) demanded more. If he didn't control himself at least a little bit he'd probably do something stupid tonight. Like jumping Steve and kissing him senseless infront of the girls. He had at least a bit of decency to not make them watch this, but well a man can dream.

They decided to pop in another movie until the pizza came and this time Steve took Eddies hand without a word, the "Stay still" was left unsaid. Somehow it helped slowing down Eddies racing thoughts and kept him grounded. It was nice and he liked the feeling of Steve playing with his rings. It felt so nice that his only logical conclusion was to shift the tiniest bit closer to Steve and rest his head on the other's shoulder. He didn't care that Nancy gave him a knowing look from where she was nestled to the armrest, he didn't care that Robin was eyeing their intertwined hands with a tiny grin (she held Steve's hand all the time no need to make a big deal about it) all he cared about was his hand in Steve's and the fact that he didn't get pushed off his shoulder yet.

About halfway through the movie the doorbell rang and destroyed the peace in Eddies mind. As soon as Nancy, Robin and Steve jumped up to get the pizzas his brain was in gremlin mode again. Before he knew it he was back to poking Steve in the ribs and found himself slammed to the wall only seconds later. Steve's body now flush against his, hands pinned above his head like earlier. "I told you to stop that" Steve sounded a little breathless and Eddie only managed an apologetic grin when he saw the tiny little blush covering Steve's cheeks. They both were aware that the girls were only a few feet away at the door. Eddie still wanted to do something stupid, but he managed to hold back. He didn't know how exactly, but it was an impressive effort.

"Make me!" was the only thing he said with a smirk. A challenge. To see if Steve would go as far as he would. Judging by the fact that his eyes flickered down to Eddie's lips for a split second, he would. Their moment was interrupted by Robin announcing loudly that they should get a room because she didn't want to watch this while eating. Steve let him go, strolling back to the sofa and grabbing his pizza as if nothing happened. Eddie quickly followed, trying to be as normal as he could.

The rest of the night went by fairly uninteresting, besides Steve casually holding Eddie's hand during the movies. Sometime after midnight they all got tired and decided to call it a night. Nancy retreated to her room, Robin curled up on the lazy boy and Steve arguing that Eddie takes the sofa because he sometimes has back pain. Steve himself decided to just sleep on the floor.

When Eddie woke up the next morning he instantly knew it was way too early. To his surprise he found Steve already awake when he turned around. Had he been watching him? Eddie gave him a sleepy smile and quietly asked for the time. Steve awkwarly contorted and tried to look into the kitchen from his position on the floor wich had Eddie stifle his laughter. "Uuuuh I think 7:40am" came a whispered answer when Steve rolled back facing Eddie. It was unfair how sweet he looked with sleep rumpled hair and disheveled clothes. Eddie felt his heart beat faster again and a smile threatened to spill over his face. Steve gave him a confused look. "What?" he asked but it was swallowed by a yawn, wich made him look even cuter in Eddies eyes.

"Nothing" he answered and sat up, patting the space next to himself, "C'mere, that floor can't be comfortable". Steve huffed out a tiny laugh and hoisted himself on the sofa in one not so graceful movement that had his spine crack.

"What makes you say that?" Steve's voice was muffled by the pillows he fell face first into and Eddie had to stifle his own laughter. Steve adjusted himself, curling around Eddie like a dragon around his hoard and bliked up at the other boy. "Mornin' Eds" he said softer than he ever talked to Eddie before and aforementioned metalhead wanted to melt. If anyone had told him a year ago that he would be graced by the sight of a sleepy Steve Harrington looking up at him with nothing but sleepy fondness, he wouldn't have believed them. But here he was, Steve pressed against his back, his head almost in his lap and if Eddie didn't know better he'd think he was still dreaming. It felt all too natural to sink back into the couch a little deeper, leaning against Steve's torso and burying his hand in the boys incredibly soft hair.

"Mornin' Stevie" he whispred back, equally soft. If this really was a dream he never wanted to wake up because right now, pretzeled together with Steve on the goddamn Wheelers sofa of all places his life felt perfect. Not even Robins snoring could disrupt that moment. Steves eyes had closed again the moment Eddie started playing with his hair and his hand came up to search for Eddie's unoccupied one, slotting their fingers together like the night before.

Eddie must've fallen asleep again too, because he woke up to something tickling his neck. Said something turned out to be none other than Steve. Precisely Steve's lips that were currently trailing the softest of kisses up and down his neck and cheek. He turned his head slightly to see Steve still having his eyes closed but in between the kisses he saw the tiniest smile on his lips, like he knew exactly what he was doing to Eddie. "Your heart is racing" he whispered.

Eddie was still half asleep and mumbled out a "Uuuh its always like this". He instantly felt stupid when he heard Steve giggling and couldn't help but bark out a laugh. Unfortunately that only startled Robin awake, wich made Steve laugh even more. They were both by now laughing and almost slipping off the sofa while Robin shot them a death glare. So much for a little more time in the soft bubble they created for themselves. After that Robin woke up Nancy and whatever mood was between them evaporated by the time they made breakfast.

The rest of the day went by without anything else happening. Eddie didn't want to provoke Steve in broad daylight, the thing they had this morning was enough to last him a few days without the constant need to be around Steve.

Or so he thought.

Because two days later he found himself at Steve's place for another movie night. This time without the girls, just the two of them. Was that supposed to be a date? Had his weird approach of flirting worked? Eddie was nervous all of a sudden.

"You're right, your heartbeat is actually that fast all the time" Steve commented from where he had laid his head on Eddies chest.

Eddie just poked his ribs, grinning at the way Steve twitched. "Told you so" he sing songed in an attempt to mask this nervousness. He actually like puking his guts out any minute now and wouldn't that be romantic? As if Steve sensed his inner turmoil he grabbed Eddies hand and began playing with his rings. It instantly calmed both of them down.

For a while they silently watched the movie, only for Eddie to let out a "blergh" when two characters on screen kissed. Steve looked up to him with furrowed brows. "What? You don't like kissing Eddie?".

Eddie only looked back perplexed, stammering out: "What? No.....I uh......uhm.....i don't hate it but.....i dunno". Smooth Munson, very smooth.

Steve wiggled himself up a bit higher so he could look Eddie in the eyes, his gaze only flickering down for a second. Eddie was pretty sure he looked like an overripe tomato again, and he was sweating. Neat. But despite that he felt a soft pair of lips press to his own and his brain short circuited.

Yep that's the death of Eddie Munson. Death by kissing the most beautiful man he knows, what a way to go. 'Kiss back you fucking idiot!' was the only helpful thing his brain supplied to all this and as soon as he did, it shut down again.

He doesn't know how long they were kissing but it didn't matter, he was kissing Steve, Steve was kissing him. That's all that mattered.

When they finally parted, Eddie sunk back into the couch cushions. "You okay there?" Steve asked with a smile in his voice, still hovering over Eddie.

"Eeeh no, because the fucking man of my dreams just kissed me? I am so not okay in the best way, how about you?" Eddie answered, shoked by how strangled his voice came out.

"Hmm, in that case I am also so not okay because I just kissed the man of my dreams too and he even kissed back" with that Steve leaned down, resting their foreheads together. "And if he doesn't mind I'd love to kiss him again even if he can be a menace sometimes"

Eddie just nodded dumbly and pulled Steve down by his shirt to crash their lips together. They didn't know how long they kissed, with wandering hands and barely a break to take a breath. In the background the movie ended but neither of them cared, too caught up in one another.

They only broke apart for a bit longer when Eddie poked Steve's ribs again, earning a delightful squeak from the younger. "Just for the record, don't think you can distract me with kisses sweetheart" he said with a smirk.

Steve only smirked back, snaking his hands towards Eddies wrists. "Maybe not with kisses, but I have my ways"

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #welp here you go #this is not beta read because i have to be adult now #posts this and runs away #my writing

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the-firebird69 · 1 year

Text

Check it out

The person who built this car cannot handle the speed that it has at all he's flying around his iron Man and 180 mph maximum after that it starts shaking and quivering because he can't see objects fast enough ahead of him scanning or visually he is far too slow in reacting and it causes his nervous system to break down. If you can't drive the car you can't sell it at Plus it is a car that's sanctioned by the USA military form out of it part of the design but his has some serious flaws if you go above 2000 miles an hour it can take flight at any moment as a matter of fact it's extremely dangerous there's an 1800 it's really the benchmark it's just a little bit harder but the slightest bump and you're up in the air and we are not selling these in any way we waited for his reaction and what he said is he's just going to take them and his cars are missing and he's got fines and he's got lawsuits and he's been posturing to our son and our sensitive just going to poke holes in your veins and somebody came by and poked holes in his face and squirting everywhere said he's going to get him so he poked holes in more veins he passed out wakes up starts saying it and we poked an eyeball out so he says you just playing with me why is that it is playing with me so I am the guy said go ahead and sue me he said he'd win so we're sue you in court and there's some other things to go along with it because it won't be in a public court because it's a military vehicle and it was stolen from an enemy of the United States and Earth and he says oh am I in trial you mean right now do you have to ask that question so he started to say this I'm being silly the military doesn't put up put up with a surly little s**** or your stupid f****** remarks here even though it seems it it's that we kill a lot of a day. What you're doing you have no clue and it's going to be fun it really is Mr snide remark you're just like the rest of them but your remarks are heinous but it is funny what you're doing to yourself puke it's funny like haha hilarious helps me all the funny. You're importing foreigners you're all dwindling to nothing they're taking over your job and they do a better job at it and fighting each other in the max and Tommy f you've obsoleted yourself it's funny you didn't listen to a damn f****** thing I said You f****** in great piece of s*** you should be out in the street wandering around looking for peanuts and people's s*** because you're so God damn stupid and poor not doing commercials and making money cuz you're such an a****** keeping me from every penny you're going to get killed all the time right you already are you just stupid I want to ever see you again you f****** bother me ever again or your wife that little s*** on Louis you're dead and so is your wife and you clean every time you come by I'm going to take a nice big bite out of you the f*** off f*** off of your dead every single comment I'm taking an area.

So we got on the line started taking areas and we're blaming other people. Now he's bothering back you got to get shot and surprise tons of times and it's killing women too idiots and he is trying to imitate trumpster pain for a long time to keep on blabbing and blabbing is you say something they start responding inappropriate way so they can get arrested in the play for what they're saying who they're imitating no it's treason oh that guy that's interesting I thought it was Brad so I figured out something banning in Beaumont who should reopen that case showing me what's his name same guy with supposedly Colleen wasn't anything to do with them now she's alive it's not well so but that's fine princesses Daniel went to work on found tons of them went over to Casper's Island in fontanza skeletons and some of his people and he told other Max now we're going to hang that piece of s***

Thor Freya

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primofate · 3 years

Text

Shortfic: Zhongli x Childe x gn! Reader (Taking care of sick reader) Poly relationship

Listen, don’t sue me. I just have so much Zhongli x Childe x reader brainrot. I just think the dynamics would be so good. Zhongli being such a daddy good caretaker and Childe being... well Childe being Childe and you in the middle of it all, LIKE WHY THE HELL NOT? Yeah idk, I’m sorry, I indulged myself.

Categories: poly relationship, protective Childe and Zhongli, worry, possessive, fluff

Warnings: hinting at sexual activities (still very SFW though), poly relationship, not tagging anyone because I’m not sure if this is your thing. Let me know tho.

Characters: Zhongli x gn! Reader x Childe

"Zhongli…"

Childe stands in front of the man with a defeated look in his face, eyes turned towards the floor.

Zhongli was enjoying his tea, sitting at the table, liking the peace that it gave him. With a soft 'clink' he sets his teacup down and looks at Childe, calm gaze placed on the younger man.

"Childe, they will be fine,"

"I just don't understand what went wrong, was it too cold last night? Or were they overworking themselves?"

Zhongli sighs to himself, standing to close the gap between him and Childe. He cups a hand around the crook of Childe's neck, thumbing gently on his jaw.

"These things just happen sometimes, Childe. Perhaps it was something they ate, or even just a minimal change in their routine,"

"But they look like they're in so much pain,"

"I don't doubt it, their fever is at its peak at the moment. Not to worry, I've contacted Baizhu to take a look at them in the afternoon," Zhongli moves to remove his hand from Childe's neck, but the ginger haired male grasps on his wrist and stays it there. They stand in front of each other in silence, Childe swallowing the lump in his throat that had formed out of worry.

"Although we aren't bound by a contract…" Zhongli's voice tones down to a near whisper, Childe's eyes flicker up towards his. "...We're bound by an even stronger bond. Rest assured Childe, we are doing the best that we can," Zhongli moves his hand an inch downward towards his shoulder and squeezes it, and, in a slow and comforting motion, presses a kiss on Childe's forehead. "They will be fine," Zhongli repeats in a way that gives Childe the confidence and reassurance he needs.

The younger male takes in a big breath and sighs it out slowly. He nods and let's go of Zhongli's wrist, head turning the slightest to listen if you've woken up.

Nothing.

He kinda wished that you did, so that he could ask you how you were doing. If anything hurt. If you needed anything.

"Why don't you rest for a moment, I'll check on them in the next few hours," Zhongli motions over to the tea set on the table. There were 3 teacups filled up, one for him, one for Childe and one for you. "It wouldn't do if both of you got sick now, would it?"

Childe sighs and agrees, "Tell me if they wake up," and so for the rest of the day Zhongli stays by your bedside, changing the wet towel atop your forehead and merely watching the quickened rise and fall of your chest. Your face is flushed pink with the extra heat your body is producing, face clearly uncomfortable.

Suddenly Zhongli understands Childe’s anxiousness. You looked as if you were about to break. Childe was wildly protective of you, compared to Zhongli who always seemed to see things in a neutral manner. Looking at your current state though, he can't help but feel a stronger need to hide you away from the dangerous world.

Zhongli leans back in his seat, closing his eyes to rest momentarily. He had probably fallen asleep because in the next moment he hears his name on your lips. Even without opening his eyes, he knows that it’s you. He pushes himself up and comes to see that you’re sitting up as well, flush still on your face, sweat sticking to your forehead. “Y/N,” he’s a little startled, but motions for you to wait. If Childe finds out that he didn’t call him at the first moment, he’d be livid.

The moment he steps out of the room, his foot just an inch out, Childe is up and walking towards him. “Are they okay?” he asks, and Zhongli merely opens the door wider for him. Childe becomes a literal clingy koala at the sight of you. “Y/N!!!!” and leaps forward to give you a bear hug. There’s so many things coming out from his mouth that you weren’t even sure what he was saying anymore.

“Ahahaha…” You laugh nervously as he grips you in a tight hug. Zhongli just watches, the edge of his lips slightly upturned into a small smile. “I’m fine, Childe, I think I just need some rest and maybe something for the annoying headache I’m having,”

You pinch in between your eyebrows as Childe pulls back, smoothing your hair back and fussing over you. “Medicine, right? How ‘bout water? Do you need water?” You smile brightly at him despite the fatigue and he beams back, infinitely glad that you were awake and talking to him. He continues his line of questioning, “or maybe kisses? How about kisses? Hugs? I have plenty to give,” It was your laugh that let him know that you were feeling better, at least better than last night when he had just found you passed out on the floor.

“Just some tea is fine,” you reply, leaning forward to rest your head on Childe’s shoulder, him wrapping his arms around you in response.

“We’ve poured you a cup of tea already, I’ll go and fetch it,” Zhongli says, opting to give the two of you some time alone, but not before pressing a kiss atop your head, just as he had to Childe earlier.

“How do you feel? Are you in pain?” Childe yet again asks and you shake your head, “It’s manageable, don’t worry too much,” but your lover sighs and caresses your hair carefully. Zhongli comes back a moment later with Baizhu, who had arrived just as he was fetching your tea.

“Ah, Y/N, it’s a good sign you’re awake,” Baizhu smiles sweetly, much too sweet for your liking. Childe takes himself away from your bed and lets Baizhu do a complete check of your vitals and condition. He stood side by side with Zhongli, stance relaxed.

Baizhu isn’t stupid. He knows the kind of relationship the three of you have. He’s been on house call another time for Childe who had sustained quite the injury. He saw how you worried over him, and saw how Zhongli’s expression creased into anxiousness.

The situation was the same today. Except that you were the patient, Childe’s face was the one covered in anxiety and Zhongli… Well… He didn’t seem too bothered by the whole thing but if you looked closely, he was slightly tense than he usually was.

Baizhu just wanted to have his fun. How far were their boundaries, really?

“How are you feeling, dear?” Baizhu asks you as you’re sipping on the warm tea. “...Tired and… a splitting headache” You put away the cup of tea with a slight sigh, still feeling your muscles cry out for help. “Is that so?” Baizhu tilts your head up to look at him, fingers under your chin, and he peers into your eyes, a tad closer than he was before.

Zhongli and Childe tense at the motion, but don’t make a move to interfere. “Just checking your pupil dilation,” there’s an undertone of mischief in his voice, though you couldn’t tell if that’s just how he usually was or…

Baizhu’s hands slide down to your arm, taking your wrist and checking your pulse. A moment of silence passes, “Just a little fast but otherwise normal,” and lets go of your arm. He prescribes a medley of Chinese herbs to be taken as tea, telling Zhongli and Childe how to prep it. He finishes his examination rather quickly, “A normal fever, if it worsens tomorrow then you should call me once again,” he takes your hand and rubs it rather affectionately. You’re a bit surprised at the action.

As if that wasn’t enough, another one of his hands cup your cheek as he gives you a quick wink, “I wouldn’t mind getting called multiple times for such a charming face like yours,” the blush on your cheeks is suddenly not just because of the fever.

One would think that Childe would react faster to the pharmacist’s advances, but it was Zhongli who sets his hand down rather roughly on the other man’s shoulder, “Baizhu, that’s unnecessary,” The tall man says. Almost commands.

Childe was only mid step. The green-haired man chuckles, the white snake around his neck weirdly quiet today. “I’m merely examining your...interesting arrangements, they ARE a piece of art--” and the warning squeeze on his shoulder told him that he should be going.

He chuckles again, but lets himself be led out by Zhongli. Childe takes his place next to you, the mattress caving at his weight, “...Were you blushing just now?” he accuses you, eyes squinted.

“N-No… It’s the fever…” but your stutter tells him otherwise. He raises an eyebrow in question, obviously not believing you.

You gulp a little, “I was just caught off guard… it’s not that I enjoyed what he said…” you pout a little. Childe smiles at the cute look on your face, he was merely teasing. “Oh? Well, doesn’t matter, I’ve seen a lot more different expressions on your face than just a small blush,” there’s a quick smirk on his face and it’s here that your face turns into a tomato. You know exactly what he was insinuating.

Thankfully, Zhongli strolls in and sees the alarming redness on your face, concludes that Childe must have said something to fluster you again. “They still require some rest, Childe, perhaps leave the teasing for a little later,”

His tone is stern, but only because he knows you needed more sleep. Childe smiles but continues, “I think they’re just fine! See how their cute little face blushes just for me, Zhongli,” he takes your face in his hands and turns it towards Zhongli, who was...admittedly slightly enamored by the charming display.

Zhongli coughs into his hand and turns his gaze away, “Strange how energetic you are now, just a moment ago you were beside yourself with worry about Y/N,” It was your turn to tease Childe at the information Zhongli just gave out. “Oh? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you so much!”

Before Childe could even reply Zhongli continues the sentiment, “Yes, he looked as if he was about to cry,”

“Th-That’s not!” Childe retracts from you, wanting to say that it wasn’t true but his words get stuck in his throat and it is now his turn to turn his gaze away in slight embarrassment. Zhongli and you snicker at his change in attitude but you were also curious as to what Zhongli was doing while you were fast asleep, “and you, Zhongli? I suppose you’re not one to worry too much,”

There’s silence on his end, with his arms crossed you can’t gauge his expression but he was having an internal battle on whether or not to tell you that he was actually just as worried. But...he had to be the strong one for the two of you. A ghost of a smile plays on his lips, strolls over to you and leans down to quickly kiss the side of your lips. “I worry in my own way, dear,” The way he says dear sends shivers down your spine, and you know in your heart that he had been worried too, just toned down to balance out Childe’s anxiousness.

Childe suddenly gets in bed with you, pulling you down for a rest. His chest is against your back, arms around your waist and mouth whispering in your ear “The two of us will always take care of you, believe me,” You smile a little and close your eyes. “I know,” just as Zhongli joins in, placing himself at your front.

Sandwich cuddles are your favourite and although you’re very much running a fever, the warmth from them is soothing. Zhongli drapes an arm on both of you, and leans down to kiss you on the forehead, brushing away stray strands of your hair as if you’re porcelain. When he pulls away he sees the look Childe gives him. A ‘Do-I-get-one-too?’ written all over his face.

Zhongli chuckles, leans in a little bit further to place one on the other man’s forehead, and watches the two of you drift in and out of sleep.

It’s certainly one of the most beautiful sights he’s witnessed.

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#Zhongli #Childe #Tartaglia #polyamory #Zhongli x Childe #Chili #Zhongli x Childe x reader #Genshin #Genshin fics #Genshin hc #Genshin short fic

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lexosaurus · 3 years

Text

Birthmark

Phic Phight oneshot for @datawyrms: Danny Phantom's jumpsuit is hiding a secret he'd rather not reveal to anyone.

---

“Shit,” Valerie cursed, deactivating her hoverboard and gently placing the figure on the ground. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Bright green liquid soaked the ghost’s body, dripping off his waist and painting the grass in a steady stream. It was ectoplasm, something inhuman and twisted, and yet when Valerie looked down, all she saw was how closely it resembled blood.

She raised a shaking hand and attempted to brush away some of the green on her suit. But she looked more green than red at this point and all she could think of was how much ectoplasm was outside the ghost’s body.

It was too much.

They’d been ambushed after a ghost fight, the Guys in White having caught them in one of their special nets. Valerie had tried to yell out that she wasn’t a ghost, she was human, but it was no use. They zapped the net, and her vision was shrouded in darkness.

The next thing she knew, she was in a van, trapped with her biggest rival in Amity Park. Phantom was awake, but he didn’t know how long they’d been in the van for. Hours passed before the van stopped at last. But at that point, they had a plan.

As soon as an operative opened the back, Valerie was on him. She knocked him out, stole his gun, and bolted.

Apparently, Phantom wasn’t so useless without his powers either. By some miracle, he managed to find a way to remove his inhibitor collar and take flight.

But that was when all hell broke loose. Right as he’d paused to free Valerie from her inhibitors, someone landed a shot on him.

And he fell.

Valerie didn’t have time to think. She just grabbed his body, activated her hoverboard, and flew, not sure where she was going but unwilling to stop until she was sure she’d lost the agents.

“Fuck.” She threw off her helmet and looked down at Phantom’s unconscious form. There was a hole in the stomach of his suit, and ectoplasm bubbled and sparkled in the harsh sun.

He was going to die, Valerie realized. What happened when a ghost died? Could they even die?

“Stay with me,” she whispered.

She shoved a hand in her belt for her emergency supplies, but her glove was too slippery, and her hand trembled too much. She couldn’t do this. She ripped off her glove and tried again, trying to ignore the way the ectoplasm trickled between her fingers.

She had a bit of gauze, a tube of instant clot powder, a few butterfly clips, and a few large bandages. It wasn’t much, but it would have to work.

Because the alternative…

She set the supplies down and turned back to the unconscious ghost. His glow was almost nonexistent, and for the first time she could see his face clearly. All the grooves of skin, his pores, the individual hairs on his eyelashes and eyebrows. He had freckles. That tiny, human detail Valerie would have thought impossible for a ghost.

Even the more humanoid ghosts always had some slight haze to them, something that just made them more like a realistic doll than a person. But not Phantom. If it weren’t for the white hair and ectoplasm, she would have thought him to be just a regular teenager.

“Stay with me.”

She needed to take his jumpsuit off. Could she even do that? Was it attached to him? Would taking it off just hurt him more?

For a moment, Valerie knelt there frozen, unsure of what to do. She felt lightheaded, dizzy, nauseous. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of burnt battery acid and lime, and she could only stare as the Phantom’s face slowly grew paler and paler.

She pinched herself. “Snap out of it.” She’d dealt with worse, this was just a ghost. A ghost that she didn’t even like. A ghost that she’d spent the last two years chasing out of Amity Park.

She could do this.

Grabbing her swiss army knife out of her belt, she began carefully slicing through the fabric. Her damp hands were immediately filled with green goo, and for a moment she panicked, thinking that her fears were correct and that the jumpsuit acted like a second skin for Phantom.

But then she saw a black t-shirt peeking out underneath the jumpsuit, and she realized with a shaky breath of relief that the suit simply melted if it wasn’t attached to the host.

Of course, that made sense. She’d seen Plasmius rip off his cape before and it had dissolved in thin air. How could she have forgotten?

She made quick work with removing the jumpsuit, and had started on the undershirt as well when Phantom groaned.

She froze, unable to move the slightest muscle, as she watched Phantom’s drunk green eyes slowly flutter to life.

“Don’...” he slurred.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked. “You’re hurt, I’m sorry.”

She tried to resume cutting his shirt, but he lazily swatted her hand away. “Don’...”

“Phantom, stop. I need to get this off you.”

“Stop...”

“I gotta do this,” she said, tearing his t-shirt. “It’s just a shirt.”

“S’ugly,” he mumbled, his eyes rolling back. His head lolled to the side, and he was out again.

Valerie rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be—”

Her voice cut off, and she sucked in a breath. Tattooed on Phantom’s skin were glowing lightning figures that branched from his shoulder, snaking around his chest and stomach as if they were alive.

Valerie had never seen anything like it before, and she could have dismissed them as just ectoplasmic tattoos. But from Phantom’s reaction, she had a sneaking suspicion that these were something much more serious. Much more personal.

Something that she didn’t have time to think about right now. Something that was getting covered by ectoplasm, something that was losing its bleak glow as the aura around Phantom faded to nothing.

Time was up. She needed to act now.

Ripping off the packaging, Valerie got to work.

---

The sky was clear, glittering with thousands of stars. It was one of those rare nights where the milky way was visible, arcing the sky with its brilliance.

Valerie had never been one to care about nature. Growing up rich in the city, her focus was always materialistic. She just wanted to fit in with the other girls, so she’d been more than willing to follow along with their hobbies and model her life after their trends.

Nature? Space? Stars? She never gave them a second thought.

Until her life was turned upside down, that was. Suddenly, Valerie went from hardly spending time outside to now soaring through the sky every night, weather be damned. It didn’t take long for her to appreciate the beauty of a clear, warm, night sky.

She landed on top of a building and collapsed her hoverboard. It had been quiet thus far, with only a few ambient blob ghosts roaming around a warehouse. Although at the beginning of her ghost hunting career, Valerie had spent each night painstakingly capturing every ghost in sight, she’d grown since then. She wasn’t so angry, so vengeful now.

And aside from being completely harmless, even Valerie had to admit there was something almost cute about the tiny bulbs of ecto energy.

Her suit dinged, signaling a ghost nearby, and Valerie groaned. There really was no rest for the weary, it seemed.

She raised her radar watch to her eyes to see a familiar ecto signature reading pop up in the corner.

One that was heading towards her.

Shit.

She hadn’t seen Phantom since that day. He’d been avoiding her. And maybe a few months ago she wanted him to avoid her, but now...

That day had changed her.

It was terrifying the way the government had so easily lumped her in with the ghosts just because they detected ectoplasmic readings from her suit. She woke up not knowing where she was, where she was going, if she’d ever see her father again.

Part of Valerie had insisted that once they saw her without her helmet, they’d call her dad and drive her back. It would have all been a big misunderstanding.

But a different part of her, one deep down inside, knew she was just lying to herself.

The government operated the way she did when she first started ghost hunting. All black and white, no room for grey. Ghost were evil and all ectoplasm needed to be destroyed. Period.

After she patched Phantom up in that grassy field, she flew and flew until she stumbled across a nearby town. She hid Phantom in a warehouse and sat with him for hours, forcing herself to stay away and stand guard in case the GiW found them.

He didn’t wake up until the next morning, taking one look between Valerie and his exposed torso before panic struck his features and he simply disappeared. Before Valerie could gather her wits to hunt his ungrateful ass down and kill him again, he reappeared, suit intact, and began leading their way back to Amity on instinct alone.

Phantom refused to look her in the eye for the entire trip home. And when they finally got to Valerie’s apartment, left her with a “get some sleep” before disappearing once again.

Her watch buzzed lightly against her skin, signaling that he was close. Valerie leaned back, waiting. Seeing if he’d actually come to her, or if he’d bail and pull the vanishing act he was so famous for.

But then he appeared. Right in front of her. His glow was vibrant against the night sky, covering his body in a shimmery aura. His acidic green eyes glistened in the dark.

He really looked no worse for wear after his injury. That kind of hit would have landed Valerie in the hospital. And yet, Phantom was back the next day, full of bright smiles and puns for the people of Amity.

She wondered how often this kind of thing happened to him. Just how many times had he been nearly slaughtered only to pop back into the public eye pretending like nothing happened?

He gave her an awkward wave. “Hey, Red.”

“Phantom.” She greeted cooly.

Just because lately she’d been seeing Phantom as someone who didn’t have an inherently evil Obsession didn’t mean that she liked him. At best, he was cocky, arrogant. At worst, he’d dumped her back at her apartment and left her by herself after the complete shit show that was their kidnapping.

So yeah, maybe she was a little bitter. Sue her.

“Uh, do you mind if I…” He gestured to the roof.

She pretended to mull his proposition over, watching as his ghostly tail flickered in anxiety.

He was ready to bolt, and she didn’t blame him. They’d never really talked before.

“Do what you want. I don’t feel like fighting tonight,” she finally conceded.

Relief spread across Phantom’s features, and Valerie was once again reminded of how human he was. She once thought that ghosts couldn’t feel any emotions. While it was doubtless that the way they experienced emotions was different than how humans did, there was just no way that Phantom was able to nail all those tiny details so accurately. Even if he was one of the more powerful ghosts out there, it would have been near impossible to mimic the full range of human emotion so quickly and precisely.

He settled down next to her, his tail morphing into legs positioned criss-crossed against the concrete. He turned to her, rubbing the back of his neck.

Valerie said nothing, just allowing the blanket of awkwardness to settle over the pair. If he wanted to say something, he could say it. Valerie wasn’t going to hand-hold him through a conversation.

When the tension was reaching the point of unbearable, Phantom finally broke the silence. “It’s a nice night.”

“Sure is.”

“I haven’t—uh, seen any ghosts. Tonight, I mean. Like outside. Or inside, too. Uh...it’s a quiet night. Ghost free. Well, except for me, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

He ran a gloved hand through his white hair. “Not that I’m really complaining. It’s kinda nice to have a break for a change.”

Valerie grunted in agreement, even though she was sure Phantom was lying through his teeth. Ghosts lived for their Obsessions, and Phantom was no different. She knew that deep down, he reveled in ghost hunting even more than any human ever could.

The duo was lapsed back into another tense silence, one that Valerie didn’t try to break. She didn’t understand what his goal was with the petty chatter. Did he think they were suddenly friends now? After he discarded her back at her apartment like she was a used rag and disappeared without a hint of remorse?

After she carried him hundreds of miles away from the Guys in White compound, bandaged his wounds, and then stayed up all night just to make sure he was safe?

She could have left him there. She could have been home before her father had woken up the next morning in a panic because his daughter was nowhere to be found. She could have avoided the phone call to the police, the missing child report, the whole mess that had followed.

And he couldn’t have even been bothered to say thank you afterward. Just dumped her and left.

So if he thought she was going to help him out now, he had another thing coming.

“How have...um, how have you been? Since…”

“Fine.” She said. “My dad’s been better.”

He winced. “Yeah…”

“Not that you care.”

He jolted up, turning around to face her. “What?”

“You know what I’m talking about, spook.”

“I thought we were over the whole ‘spook’ thing,” he said, his face twisting in annoyance.

“And I thought you were over being an inconsiderate jerk. But I guess I was wrong.”

“Listen, Val—”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Okay, Red. Listen, I’m sorry. Okay? I got freaked out that you—you saw…” He let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry you got caught up in my problems, I’m sorry they thought you were a ghost, and I just...yeah.”

Valerie sat there for a moment, glaring out at the night’s sky. “It was a big mess, you know.”

“I know.”

“The police were involved and everything.”

“I heard.”

“And you know the worst part? I couldn’t even tell them the truth.” She let out a bitter laugh. “I got kidnapped by my own government and I couldn’t even tell my dad. I had to lie and say I got lost while out on a nature hike. How stupid is that? I nearly got killed by the freaking government and I haven’t been able to say a damn thing to anyone.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet.

“Yeah, well…” Valerie swallowed the lump in her throat. “You know. Hazard of the job, I guess. Still would have been nice if you hadn’t just left on me. After everything.”

Phantom lowered his head, allowing the white strands of hair to cover his eyes. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It was a dick move.”

“It was.”

“I just wanna know why.”

He looked up, startled. “Why? Why you were captured, or—”

“Why the silent treatment? Was it because I saw those glowing lightning tattoos under your jumpsuit?”

He flinched back as if he’d been struck, his body lifting to hover over the cement. He stared at her open mouthed, as if he didn’t think she’d even dare to mention it.

But Valerie couldn’t find it in her to be joyous at his hurt expression. “Seriously? You were mad about that? Like I care about what you put on your body.”

“No, no.” Despite looking like he wanted to take flight, he managed to lower himself back onto the roof. “No, they’re...it’s complicated.”

“Oh, wonderful,” she said sardonically. “So let me get this straight, ghost boy. I save your ass from the government, pull an all-nighter guarding your lifeless body in a warehouse, and the best you can give me is an it’s complicated? Thanks a lot. It really makes me feel better.”

“No, it’s…” He trailed off, rubbing a hand over his face. His eyebrows were pinched and he looked almost sick. When he finally spoke, his voice was small. “They’re not tattoos.”

“Oh? What, an unlucky birthmark?”

He didn’t respond.

Valerie turned to him, realization hitting her with full force. Unable to keep the surprise out of her voice, she said, “Really? That’s it?”

He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. His eyes were distant, far away. Lost in some other world.

He’d been electrocuted. Struck to death by lightning, or something similar. And now it was branded on him, as some twisted reminder of the ugly creature that extended its spindly claws and ripped his humanity from his body.

“Damn.” Valerie blew out a breath. “Of all the ways to go, huh?”

“I—Yeah…”

She couldn’t help herself. “Do all ghosts have one?”

“No.”

Valerie didn’t know if that made it better or worse. Questions swirled through her brain, but she bit her tongue. She didn’t know much about ghost culture, but she was fairly certain that there was a taboo against asking ghosts about their deaths.

So she stayed silent, pretending to focus back on the stars but stealing glances to the teenage ghost beside her. His brows had furrowed, as if he were having an internal war. Whatever it was, Valerie didn’t pry. Even if her curiosity burned brighter with each passing moment.

Finally, he sighed, dropping his forehead into his knees. “It’s fine,” he said, though his voice sounded anything but. “You can ask.”

She hesitated for a brief moment before relenting. “Why do you have a mark?”

“They’re called Lichtenberg figures,” he explained. “They just happen. If the shock is bad enough. But they, uh, are supposed to fade in a few days. You know, if you’re...human.”

“But yours didn’t.”

“No, mine didn’t.” He raised his head, opening his mouth slightly, before slamming it shut.

This was unmarked territory she was stepping into. Hell, she doubted even the Fentons had ever talked to a ghost about their death before.

“Do you remember it?” she tried.

“Yeah.”

That surprised her. She’d read some of the Fenton’s papers, and even they were uncertain of how much a ghost remembered about their death.

The question must have shown on her face because Phantom added, “Not everyone does. I think...I think it has to do on their power level. And, uh, how old they are. I think some of the more ancient ghosts just kinda...forget. But I don’t know much. We don’t really talk about it.”

“Oh.”

Phantom nodded, staring down at his gloves. He sighed, and then started pulling one of them off.

Valerie froze, her eyes locking onto the movement. She’d never seen Phantom remove them before, and frankly she wasn’t even sure if they could be removed.

The glove left his skin and dissolved into ectoplasm, splashing onto the concrete roof. And there, left on his otherworldly skin, were the cobwebs of the lightning scar that covered his torso. It was brighter, glowing with more precision than Valerie remembered from before.

He pushed his sleeve up to his elbow, revealing more of the Lichtenberg figure. It traveled up his wrist, spiraling throughout his arm before it disappeared into his suit. The branches were thin, glowing with the same ectoplasmic energy that ran through the ghost’s core.

Valerie didn’t know what to say. Here Phantom was, her biggest rival in Amity Park, revealing his creation, the moment that turned him into what he was today.

“It was an accident.” He finally spoke. “I was being stupid, I don’t know. My friends and I were fooling around with this...this machinery, I guess, that we knew we weren’t supposed to be near. I grabbed a malfunctioning piece of equipment—I didn’t realize it was plugged in—and that...was it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well…” Phantom pushed his sleeve back down. He closed his eyes, willing the glove to materialize back onto his hand. He looked at her and offered a feeble smirk. “Teenagers, am I right?”

Valerie forced a polite smile in return, hoping it didn’t look too pained.

He cleared his throat. “But, you know,” he said, allowing some of that familiar cocky energy back into his voice. “It’s in the past now. I’m over it.”

Valerie doubted that much. After all, he was still a ghost.

“I mean, I get to do really cool things now. Like helping people. Protecting the town. You can’t exactly do that as a human.” He froze, his eyes flickering to her. “I mean, aside from you. You’re great at it!”

Valerie flipped him off. “Whatever, ghost boy.”

“No, I’m serious! You’re really good as a ghost hunter.”

“I know I’m good! I don’t need your flattery to give me self-esteem.” Her voice sobered. “But really, Phantom. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

He frowned, and looked up at the sky. The brilliance of the stars reflected on his form, giving his body an almost ethereal presence.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

---

Thanks for reading!

#danny phantom #phic phight #my writing #birthmark

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lokust · 3 years

Text

Lore Olympus Tickle Headcanons!

I’m going to start with some side characters and then go into Hades and Persephone so enjoy this.

Eros

May come as a shock but I think Eros would be a true switch.

Loves being the lee or the ler in really any situation.

Absolutely loves to get Psyche all giggly, but he will not try to run away from retribution in the slightest.

As far as teasing when he’s in a ler mood, prefers the casual teases.

“Oh is this a bad spot? I didn’t notice?”

“No? What do you mean, no? You’re having a blast! You’re laughing like a maniac, you must be having a great time!”

Shockingly enough, casual teases don’t work on him.

But any like… baby talk teases?

Already on the floor, rolling around in a giggly puddle before he’s even touched.

Never been a fan of the tickle monster, as a lee or a ler.

Tickle monster teases just don’t get to him, and he doesn’t like to take on the “monster” role anyway.

Prefers to get straight to the point on either end of the tickling.

Anticipation does nothing but get him all frustrated and huffy.

Completely unashamed about his enjoyment of tickling.

He can be made to blush a bit if you talk about his little squeaks he tends to let out.

Or the faces he makes when he’s tickled.

His worst spot is on his right side, just above his hip.

With the right method, that spot will make him literally scream before he just breaks down into a pile of unhinged cackles and squeaks.

His favorite spot to have tickled is his shoulder blades. It gets him all giggly and squirmy but it makes him so happy.

His favorite spot to tickle is ribs. He absolutely loves ticklish ribs because he likes how many different tickly methods he can use on someone’s ribs.

50% lee/50% ler.

He’s the definition of a switch.

When he’s in a ler mood, he’s anything but subtle about it.

The first lee he can find is immediately turned into his victim (so long as they are okay with it of course).

His fingers literally start twitching, he gets absolutely restless.

His lee moods are almost identical.

He goes out searching for someone, and he isn’t above taking on a ler role for a moment to get someone to take revenge and satiate his mood.

Usually that’s not necessary as everyone can usually tell when he’s in a lee mood.

Gets all fidgety and excited.

No problem saying the t-word.

He doesn’t particularly like straight up asking for tickles, but he will if it’s absolutely necessary.

Loves gentle or rough tickles, it sometimes depends on his mood as to which one he wants but it usually doesn’t make a damn as long as someone is tickling him.

In that same sense, he always asks whether his lee prefers to be absolutely wrecked or if they want him to be gentle before he starts tickling them.

Hermes

Oh my God, can you say lee?

He literally will try to be a ler, but he just ends up flustering himself and curling up in a ball.

Secret little crush on Artemis.

While he usually ends up having to go to Eros or Persephone for his lee moods, the few times that Artemis has truly wrecked him gives her the spot as his favorite ler.

His laugh is loud and boyish and full of squeals. Literally cannot contain his laughter in the slightest.

His worst spot is his ribs, lucky for Eros.

His favorite spot is his sides, simply because they’re not as bad as his ribs, but they are almost as bad.

Any kind of teasing will literally kill him.

Sue me for this one but I think he’s a sucker for gentle tickles.

They get him all giggly and fidgety and he just curls up in a ball.

Though, he does love to be absolutely wrecked sometimes.

Absolutely loves raspberries, especially around his neck and ears.

Gentle kisses or nuzzles on any of his tickle spots make him absolutely forget how to function.

Give him nice raspberries on his tummy and sides and he will love you for the rest of eternity.

Be warned, he does kick. Completely unintentionally, but he can’t control it in the slightest.

Would rather choke on a lemon than say the t-word.

Asking for tickles? Sorry, he’s just going to bother everyone and their mothers until someone finally wrecks him.

And if that doesn’t work, he’s going to sulk under a pile of blankets until someone notices something is wrong, and he’ll do that for days if necessary.

Another quick warning, he is a cuddler. He’s going to want tons of cuddles afterwards and maybe even during if the tickles are gentle enough.

The worst best way to tease him is to talk about how much he loves it.

The tickle monster is his worst nightmare and he loves it.

Artemis

Not really much of a lee, but she doesn’t mind it from time to time.

Very brutal ler.

She’s not super ticklish, but she’s got a bad spot right under her kneecaps.

Remember how I said Hermes has a little crush?

Artemis is anything but dumb and she definitely knows.

Secretly has a soft spot for Hermes because he’s incredibly respectful, and he’s a very gentle soul.

Her teases are always absolutely evil.

Will chase her lee down.

Is absolutely not above cheap shots, she’ll go for a death spot immediately.

Like I said, she doesn’t much care to be a lee, but if she is feeling tickly, she’s going to want relaxing tickles, preferably on her back.

I don’t have much to say about Artemis.

One of the few times she tickled Hermes was when he fell asleep on her couch and he absolutely refused to get up.

She told him he had five seconds to get up and run because the tickle monster was coming after him.

When she caught him, she pinned one of his arms up and immediately started scratching and clawing at his ribs.

Loves to hear her lee laugh all helplessly.

Also gets a big head about making her lee all flustered so Hermes is a good match for her ego.

Her laugh is rich, it’s not too high pitched, or too low. It’s really consistent.

Her favorite spot to tickle is her lee’s hips.

Likes doing the thing where she digs her thumbs into their hipbones and wiggles the rest of her fingers on the back of their hips.

Can be gentle if her lee wants that.

Hecate

A ler. 100%

Never really tickled anyone until she and Hades got close, and then she turned into the ultimate tickle monster.

She literally is not ticklish. Any attempt at tickling her would be both useless and fatal.

Can recognize lee moods in an instant.

When she met Hermes, she was literally taken aback because she could just tell.

Her ler moods are not constant but they are consistent.

Would absolutely be Artemis’s partner in crime.

But Hecate is much more versatile when it comes to the type of ler she tends to be.

She’s either a seemingly merciless monster of a ler, or she’s a very nurturing, motherly ler.

It depends not only on her lee’s mood, but her own mood as well.

If her lee is having a bad day? Go get a hug from Hecate and let her give you the nicest tickles and teases you’ll ever get in your life.

Her lee is feeling playful and restless? Better watch out, she’s gonna have a blast destroying you.

Her favorite spot to tickle is her lee’s neck and ears, because they’re usually either just sensitive enough to get some giggles, or they’re an absolute death spot.

Her teasing is based on anticipation; Wiggling fingers and whispered teases about how bad it’s gonna tickle.

Loves to see her lee blush, but also loves to hear her lee scream when she gets to a particular ticklish spot.

Will start on a bad spot and pretend to move on from it before going right back to it.

Her favorite method is claws and spiders.

Like Artemis, she will absolutely chase her lee down, yelling out teases until she catches them.

And if you do run from her? It’s gonna be 100 times worse.

Running from Hecate is like poking a bear. It makes things worse for you, and much more fun for her.

Um aftercare? Yes. She’s gonna give you a blanket and some juice and she’s gonna make sure you’re all happy and tickled out before she gives you the biggest hug and tells you she’ll get you absolutely anything you need.

10/10. The best. Would absolutely poke this particular bear.

Persephone

Okay, Persephone is a very affectionate character.

So this is going to be a controversial take.

I feel like tickling happened so often when she was being raised in the mortal realm, that she got a little tired of being on the receiving end.

That’s not to say she absolutely hates tickles, but I do think she likes being a ler.

She does get occasional lee moods, but she doesn’t really like to be fully wrecked.

She wants cuddles and relaxing tickles while snuggled up under a blanket.

She’ll only tickle people if she knows for a fact that they’re absolutely, entirely comfortable with it.

If she does find out someone likes it, she will make sure they’re always receiving tickles when they want them.

Absolutely uses her magical flower goddess powers to tickle her lee, why would you even need to ask?

Teasing doesn’t really work on her because it’s just a part of the process in her mind.

Again, I feel like she went through a lot of tickles and teasing when she was growing up, so it was normal to her and none of it really affects her.

Her thighs and knees are her worst spot and I will die on that hill.

Doesn’t particularly care for her worst spots being tickled.

She likes her back being tickled because it’s relaxing.

Come on now, y’all know who her favorite lee is. Poor Hades.

Loves giving tummy tickles. It just makes her heart happy.

She is a master at teasing because she went through so much of it. She just knows what to say and do.

Her teasing is similar to Hecate’s. It’s all about anticipation.

She’ll claw her hands and wiggle her fingers above a bad spot and slowly get closer and closer to it until she finally starts tickling.

And the whole time she’s gonna be whispering teases.

“Uh oh… here it comes. Are you ready? I’m gonna tickle you!”

It literally doesn’t matter how badly she’s wrecking her lee, she always seems so sweet about it.

Could literally be killing them with tickles and she’d still be cooing about how sweet they are and how wonderful they’re doing.

Raspberries and tickly kisses are her specialty.

Definitely the type to laugh with her lee.

Literally can’t control it, she loves to see people happy and smiling.

No trouble saying the t-word or talking about tickle related things.

It’s a normal thing to her. It makes her happy and she knows it makes other people happy so she sees no reason to be ashamed of it.

Her laugh is light and bubbly.

If you do manage to wreck her, it turns shrill and high pitched, but that’s not really her cup of tea.

Hades

A bigger lee than Hermes.

The t-word makes him literally flinch in any context or situation.

So ashamed of it.

Would rather forget tickling even exists, but Hecate would never allow that and OH BOY PERSEPHONE WON’T EITHER.

Lee mood is his state of being.

Gets all huffy and embarrassed and mopes around hoping nobody notices and they all forget he exists.

Will not ask for it, will not provoke it, won’t even hint at it.

He literally always talks about wanting to feel safe and loved with someone, and wanting to be cared for.

Lee energy.

Cannot even begin to try to tickle someone because tickling in itself makes him want to hide under a rock.

Severely ticklish. Like, horrendously. He is a walking tickle spot, but his worst spot is his stomach.

Oh my God, he absolutely loves being tickled, it’s ridiculous.

Unlike the rest of them, his worst spot is his favorite spot.

His favorite ler will always be Persephone.

Likes to think nobody knows he’s a lee, but literally everyone knows.

Persephone tried to convince him that he doesn’t have to be so ashamed of it, but that just embarrassed him and he hid in his room for the rest of the day.

He warms up to it eventually but only a bit.

Will lay across Persephone’s lap like fuckin Cerberus and do his best to let her tickle him.

His favorite tease is definitely the tickle monster.

“Claws” wiggling towards his tickle spots and coming to attack while his ler (Persephone) coos those stupid little “I’m gonna get you~” teases.

Hades was deprived of all things affectionate and loving for the majority of his childhood, I can’t help but think he’d have a soft spot for the more childish side of tickling.

His laugh is full of snorts and hiccups, and any sort of tickling around his belly will make him lose his mind.

He is rather feather ticklish, which Persephone loves.

Is not opposed to Persephone using vines as… *cough cough* restraints.

Would rather choke than admit it but he usually does need to be pinned down or restrained in some way because it sends him into fight or flight and he cannot control anything he does.

He’s also enormously fuckin tall so it’s safer for Persephone if he’s held down properly.

Tried to gain more control over his reactions and squirming because he elbowed Persephone in the face once. (He begged for her forgiveness and apologized profusely. She laughed and assured him he was fine, but he was literally about to cry he was so upset with himself).

Lighter touches work way better on him.

Likes raspberries and kisses on his belly so much.

Only problem is that he is so wildly ticklish that any tickling will immediately tire him out.

He’s going to wrap himself around Persephone and fall asleep instantly, and she won’t be able to go anywhere until he either wakes up or, by some miracle, moves.

Not tickle related but he’s a clingy sleeper and I live by that.

Mushroom and Big John used to sleep in his bed but he would snuggle them in his sleep and he wouldn’t let them go for hours, so they started sleeping on the floor to escape their father’s cuddly habits.

I think when he starts accepting his lee moods and stops being so ashamed of it, he gets a little whiteboard and an expo marker and draws sad faces on the whiteboard for Persephone to see when he’s a lee mood.

Sometimes he forgets about it and goes about his day, and then when Persephone brings it up, it’s already too late for him.

#tickling #tickle community #sfw tickles #sfw tickling community #AHHHHHH LORE OLYMPUS #Lore Olympus tickle #Lee!Hades #ticklish hades

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khneltea · 3 years

Text

Jasonette headcannon #1 section b.

Woah, so apparently y'all like this stuff. Uhm, takes inspiration from @mochegato and @SquareBrain on AO3

↬ Jason will never admit that he felt scared out of his wits as he rocked up to the shop

↬ nope, nuh-uh, never

↬ the store owner who stood a head shorter than him wasn't scary in the slightest

↬ so, dressed up in his best leather jacket and jeans, plus that old red shirt that may or may not have a bullet hole in it somewhere but was the best one he could find, he opened the door to the shop

↬ only to tremble in his boots at who was in the shop (whether it was anger or sheer fear, he will not admit to either and will deny all allegations of said trembling)

↬ inside was 2 of the biggest crime lords in Gotham, the one from the docks and the one from the underground, notorious for trying to tear each other's throats out, sitting peacefully on pretty pink cushions and enjoying pastries and tea out of tiny dainty tea cups

↬ what.the.actual.fuck.

↬ the glaringly pink (he supposed that was the theme) door to the right suddenly burst open and out comes the lady of the hour, and behind her was a very hot teenage girl (about 15 years old), but for some reason, he didn't really pay attention to her

↬ all eyes were on the two ladies, the hot one giggling away about a quinceañera while the owner of the shop smiled serenely, surveying the surroundings (probably checking if there was a gang war)

↬ her bluebell eyes popped out when they saw him (he says it was because he was handsome, but don't listen to him-)

↬ "hello! Welcome to my boutique, would you like to take a seat while checking our ready-made garments? Or are you here for a commision?"

↬ "uhhhhhhh..." Jason didn't think that far ahead. And it's hard going impromptu when there was a beautiful lady devoting all her attention on him

↬ she smiled like she knew exactly what he was thinking

↬ "why don't you take a seat, monsieur, and I'll help you out dans juste un instant (oh gosh, I'm sorry all you people who speak french who are going to call me out for using Google translate-)"

↬ so he's just sitting there, a tiny tea cup with little black cats and ladybugs on the sides held in his hands as he sees her negotiating a purchase with one of the mobster groups

↬ he nearly sighed in relief when the crime lord by the docks left with the gorgeous girl (probably his daughter now that he thought about it) after leaving a heavy briefcase and a business card in exchange for a beautiful sleek gown and matching accessories

↬ kinda scared him how friendly they both seemed to the store owner and how...warm that look in both the father and daughter's eyes were

↬ and he couldn't help but flinch when the crime lord from Gotham underground (is this a thing-) grins while the blue eyed woman started taking his measurements

↬ "doll, you're always welcome to come over anytime. You're good at business, I need more people like that."

↬ she has the fucking audacity to laugh. Laugh, I tell you

↬ "non, non, monsieur. I am quite happy with my little shop over here. Besides, the young ones would miss my pastries too much if I moved."

↬ he waved a hand. "Those street rats? If that's all that it takes to get you on my side, then consider them to be in better protection and care than those kids Wayne adopts every 5 seconds."

↬ got to say, his heart went thump when he pieced together that she took care of the street kids

↬ she grins "well, you're already giving them protection for living in my block, so that's all I need. Don't worry about the rest, I've got it covered."

↬ the crime lord shrugs. "Eh, I don't really care about the brats. But you, you're the one that needs protecting. Where else will I be getting these good suits that don't tear all the goddamn time from knives and guns? Plus, what's another 5 or 6 men patrolling this area to keep my favourite designer safe? If it makes you happy that they're inadvertently looking out for the kids, then better for me."

↬ wait those suits protected him from knives and guns????? Who the hell was this woman???

↬ smiling in response, but not as brightly anymore, she stood up, jotting down some notes in her book

↬ "alright, monsieur, you'll have to come in to a fitting on Saturday, presumably before your interaction with Monsieur Falcone at 1pm, so would it be presumptuous to ask if you come in at 10:30?"

↬ "not at all, my dear! it's a pleasure of doing business with you"

↬ "also, preferably, don't wear the flashy red suit you have, might i recommend the blue one from the fitting before last week's? Monsieur Falcone would gladly appreciate the red suit blaring in his eyes after the concussion he received recently"

↬ wait

↬ how the fuck did she know that

↬ falcone got that last night (he should know, he gave it to him)

↬ and the only ones who should know about it right now are him, Falcone, and no one else

↬ either this kid was magic, or she was Alfred level shit (he's still not convinced that Alfred is fully human)

↬ "thanks doll" and the crime lord leaves

↬ she turns to him, smiles and everything

↬ "alright, monsieur hood, what would you like to purchase today? or are you still having difficulty choosing?"

↬ uhm fuck ok

↬ how the hell do you talk to pretty, badass women that can probably take over the entirety of Gotham in a day

↬ "uhhhhhh got anything in red that doesn't make me look like a fucking period stain?"

↬ she giggled in a way that you know it's not flirting but just generally found it funny, and he thought it was the creation of the universe

↬ "i'm sure we can find you something, monsieur hood."

↬ proceeds to pull him up (what the fuck she was so strong for such a tiny girl) and lead him to the back room

↬ fabrics upon fabrics upon fabrics lay everywhere in chaos, but he felt like if he moved something, the balance of the room would be upset

↬ finally comes to a bar that ran from one end of a rack to the other, thin fabrics lining it

↬ the blue-eyed girl takes a beautiful black silk cravat with red embroidery that boldly stood out (yes, he knows what a cravat is, sue him for wanting to know what Mr Knightley, Mr Bingley, and Mr Darcy wore in the books) and drapes it over his neck, critically eyeing it

↬ in the process, pulling him down by the neck to look at it and being very close to her pink plump lips

↬ uhm fuck what do i do what do i say who am i what is life what the fuck austen you didn't prepare me for this-

↬ "as i thought", she says, "this is a good colour scheme for you, but probably more of a black with a tinge of brown and a more muted red colour scheme for everyday use."

↬ she walks away and comes back with a measuring tape and measures his neck, shoulders, arms, and starts measuring around the torso

↬ he doesn't even register this because of how efficient she is and because he was used to it from living with Bruce fucking Wayne (he won't admit that he was just too distracted by the way her dainty little fingers brushed against the back of his ears as she leaned forward to check the measurements, nor when they fluttered against his biceps and chest)

↬ when she's done, she starts writing measurements and mumbling under her breath, which snaps him out of his stupor

↬ "why did you take my measurements?"

↬ "a good cravat needs a good suit, and what better than for me to make a matching one when I have the time and resources to do it?"

↬ she fucking grinned at him like a devious minx who knew more about him than she should and he melted a bit.

↬ just a little bit.

↬ turning around, she stuck her hand out, still smiling like a fucking seductress

↬ "I'll be making your suit and cravats, let's hope to a wonderful relationship, it's going to be a pleasure working with you."

↬ he tried to match her smile, but ended up feeling like a dork with his heart beating 200 times a second. and he felt like an even bigger dork when he took her hand and gave her a small kiss on the knuckles. "believe me, the pleasure is all mine, dove. might i dare, i fain would ask, for your sweet name? that while a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, i feel that yours would double in so."

↬ she smiled back at him.

↬ "why, good sir, it is a good show of faith in the honey to the flower of life, as Hugo quotes, but I wish you would take me to dinner first before such matters. My name, you ask? It is Marinette, Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

↬ He smirked. "My name is Jason Todd."

↬ "I know, Monsieur Hood."

↬ "Wait, how the fuck do you know-"

#what the fuck was this #ok this was way longer than planned #designer mari #jasonette #mari is alfred #mari can be overlord #didn't plan for this but it happened #maribat #ml x dc #miraculous ladybug #dc comics #prompt?#headcannon?#what is my life #jason todd #red hood #marinette dupain cheng #jason x marinette #jason thinks she's hot

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thanksjro · 3 years

Text

More Than Meets the Eye #31 - Ammo and the Anti-Glowup

So, the Lost Light disappeared, stranding all the crew in space in their little escape pods. 200-some robots just lost their homes and worldly possessions. That’s absolutely horrible. What a devastating thing to happen.

Anyway, here’s Drift with a flashback sequence.

No hips, fingers all the exact same length, hockey pucks embedded in his forearms- Rojo, this is a crime you’ve committed. When will the long arm of the law stop your sinful, pancake-shaped hands?

About two years prior to current events, Drift, Riptide, and Pipes- yes, Pipes!- were wandering around trying to find a ship for the space yacht trip. The gang’s here to see who owns the big honkin’ ship outside. Problem is, Drift is unintentionally terrifying because he has a great deal of swords.

Now, you may say to yourself “isn’t it a bit odd that the species that has members who literally turn into guns would be nervous around a guy with swords?” This is a valid critique, until you remember that at least some of the folks who turn into guns were born that way, and Drift was very much NOT born bladed the fuck out. There’s an entire miniseries devoted to explaining this, it’s called Drift. The swords are a choice, one that he makes every day.

Drift is willing to pay an honestly absurd amount of money for the ship, if he can just find the dude with the paperwork- don’t ask where he got the money. Pipes isn’t being terribly helpful in finding them, so Riptide decides that now is the time to start practicing being proactive and pulls a Coyote Ugly.

No, no, he doesn’t.

He does climb up on a table and start yelling for the ship’s owners to reveal themselves, though. Which they do.

Now it’s time for the world-building portion of our comic issue. Let’s learn about chirolinguistics.

Drift, staying true to his Mary Sue nature, uses his near-perfect Hand skills to strike up a deal with the owners of the ship. This would be impressive, if it didn’t just look like the most convoluted hand-holding session in the friggin’ universe.

Still, Drift is rich enough to make Jeff Bezos weep with envy, so the arrangements are made and the lads go on their way, talking some mad shit about the original name of the ship as they do.

So it is revealed to us that the Lost Light is named after a festival for honoring the dead and disappeared, which makes the fact that Rewind and Chromedome were there all the more sad.

Back in the present, Megatron tells Riptide to shut up so they can figure out what the hell they’re going to do about this whole “our home and also ride has ceased to exist” situation. He’s putting an awful lot of distance between himself and the rest of the Autobots as he does it, something that isn’t lost on the more bitter people of the crowd.

But why were we even talking about the Lost Light in the first place? Not to reminisce, believe it or not. See, it’s time for Nautica to get a little panel time, and she’s going to use it to be a massive fucking nerd and explain how the quantum engines work. As she does, Ratchet notes that his hands feel funny. Must be the weight of his hand-stealing sins manifesting itself in his joints.

Nautica explains that the engines run off of improbability- it is highly unlikely, but not impossible, that the ship can reach light speed, and riding the fine line between what can happen and what can’t, results in the creation of power for the engines. If this sounds familiar, it’s because Brainstorm gave us a watered down version of this explanation back in issue #2. If it sounds familiar for a different reason, it’s because this is how the Heart of Gold runs in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Again, I’m not sure why it is that the British love this concept so much, but there you are.

Oh, it appears someone has a question. Let’s see what they want to know about, shall we?

…Rojo, what the fuck is this.

Our muppety friend here isn’t too keen on how much of a smarmy asshole Nightbeat is being right now, though I’d assume it actually has something to do with the fact that Nightbeat got smacked around with the pretty-boy stick while Getaway very much did not. While the two bicker- there’s a lot of bickering in Season Two- Nautica presents a theory on what happened to the ship; it went too far in the direction of “can’t” and made itself cease to be.

Megatron gives not a shit about quantum improbability, though. He only cares about how they’re going to get out of this mess. Which, y’know. Valid.

Blaster picks up a radio from Rodimus, who tells the gang that they’re to meet up on a nearby planet to regroup and figure out their next move. The call drops before he can get more than a couple Megatron-directed insults in, however. Megatron, in response, tries to be the bigger person, and almost immediately fails. We do get a headcount though, which is good, logistically speaking. This information is communicated to us by way of a splash page full of character head shots. We’ve got 20 ‘bots on board this ship.

Yep. 20. No more, no less.

As our friends approach the planet, we’re informed that it’s actually a Lectureworld- a planet devoted to the study of a single field. Except it’s actually a Smartplanet now, and it’s been privatized by the Galactic Council, so you’ve got to pay to go there. Cyclonus thinks that that’s bullshit, and I can’t help but agree. Crosscut tries to network with they guy about his play, probably because word got around that Cyclonus is rich as hell, when the lights cut out. When they come back on, Crosscut is nowhere to be found.

It’s time for a Whodunnit.

Tailgate immediately pegs Megatron as the culprit in this disappearance, and breaks out a gun over the matter. Megatron thinks that this is absolutely adorable, which only serves to further infuriate our marshmallow friend. I guess he’s still mad about the whole “I was a Decepticon for five minutes and got brainwashed over it” thing, and wants someone to pin the anger on who’s socially acceptable to hate.

Cyclonus and Ratchet both think that Tailgate’s not going about this the right way, but the guy is simply too het up to listen to them. Tailgate suggests that they lock Megatron in the engine room for the time being and-

OKAY WHO LET HIM HAVE THAT

Riptide breaks out his gun, and soon we’ve got a standoff going between the three of them. Cyclonus tries to deescalate, which makes Gears and Huffer break out their guns. Then Hound breaks out his gun, though he seems to be doing his own thing, by pointing it in Nautica’s direction.

Broski, I think that might be animal cruelty.

Megatron manages to shoot Ravage “unconscious” and catches him by the friggin’ throat, stating that he has zero idea how this guy got here. With the heat off the two of them for a moment, Megatron communicates to Ravage to play ‘possum for the time being. Ravage responds, and I wonder exactly how he’s doing that, considering I don’t think he has enough fingers to effectively utilize Hand as a language. Or fingers at all, really.

While this is going on, Cyclonus snatches the gun out of Tailgate’s hand, admonishing him for being reckless about picking his fights. Generally speaking, you don’t want to try to go toe-to-toe with a guy who’s responsible for the deaths of literal billions. Getaway swoops in to comfort Tailgate, calling him gutsy. I wonder if this will become a trend.

Swerve says a thing, as he is wont to do, and it’s made known that multiple folks have disappeared during this incredibly brief standoff.

Wow, Chromedome just fucked off, huh? He wasn’t even in that sequence, just left.

Everyone’s positively baffled by the current happenings. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to who’s being taken. I guess we’ve got a mystery on our hands.

And who better to solve a mystery than a detective?

Nightbeat wrangles all the leftover folks into a corner of the room, so they can figure out what the common denominator is with all the disappearees. He starts with the easy stuff.

And by “easy”, I mean the super-special racism Tyrest subscribed to.

If you’ve read Eugenesis, you know that Nightbeat was also part of the first wave of cold-constructed bodies there. However, the general populace wasn’t nearly as chill about it as they were in IDW. Also, Wheeljack was his dad. No word on if that particular tidbit made it into IDW lore.

It’s at this point that we learn about M.T.O.s- made to order soldiers. They were cold-constructed ‘bots created en masse during the war in order to keep up with the demands for troops. Pretty fucked up, if you think about it, being born to die like that.

Now where have we heard that name before…

Chromedome, can your love life not be part of the plot for five minutes, my guy?

Nautica makes the honestly horrific claim that a lot of folks owe their existence to Megatron being a warmongering fuck, and even Megatron himself seems rather uncomfortable with the idea. Some thoughts we keep to ourselves, Nautica, even if they might be technically true. And even if Ammo wants to tack on his two cents on the matter.

What did they DO to you, Ammo? You’re supposed to be hot! Where are my three-paragraphs of description as Hound stares slack jawed the entire time? I miss Polyhex Wars.

Anyway, it’s Megatron’s turn to get poked with the questioning stick, and he’s not having it. He claims that by revealing his mode of creation, he’s risking a repeat of Functionist ideology. This would be valid, if people weren’t literally disappearing without any sort of explanation as to why. As it is, he’s being a stubborn asshole, but I guess he didn’t get his reputation by being a decent person who knew when to back down, now did he?

It’s at this point that Ratchet remembers he knows all the info Nightbeat’s looking for, and the conversation on Megatron’s birth is shelved for another day. I’m sure it won’t be a major plot point later, not in the slightest.

As it turns out, Nightbeat’s theory doesn’t hold water, and folks are still popping out of existence. We get another splash page, this time with everyone’s mode of creation listed under their names, and we move on to other theories about what the fuck is going on. While Nightbeat has a minor crisis over what the answer could possibly be, the MTOs in the group reminisce on the Ten-Step Program, a series of tests they were put through to make sure they worked well enough to get handed a gun and shoved out the door. Riptide wasn’t a fan.

Riptide has more wood panelling than a 70’s-style ranch house, and I think that’s very brave of him.

It’s at this point that Ratchet remembers it’s been quite a bit since he last shat on religion, and takes the time to do so while informing the reader about Information Creep. This is a concept we’ve seen mentioned previously, during Chromedome’s runaround in Overlord’s brain, but it’s here where we get the juicy implications.

Because memories can become corrupted in the brain due to extreme age, what ought to be objective fact has to be reinterpreted due to missing pieces. This is why nobody knows what the Knights of Cybertron got up to, or if they’re even actually real at all.

The lights go out again, and when they cut back on, Cyclonus is missing, leaving only his sword behind. Tailgate is extremely distraught by this, but Nightbeat gives not a fuck about Tailgate’s impending breakdown. He only cares about the truth!

And then a giant eyeball shows up.

It’s Ultra Magnus, coming to us live from his shuttle, via holomatter avatar! He shrinks down to a far more reasonable size, in a panel reminiscent of the first time IDW readers saw Megatron.

Don’t get me wrong, this is a neat parallel, I’m just… not terribly sure why it’s happening. One could say it reflects a reversal in power dynamics, but that theory gets tossed out the window when you remember that this isn’t actually Verity. I suppose it’s just a cool little thing.

Because the comms aren’t working, Ultra Magnus has been forced to use this avatar to communicate with the folks in the Rod Pod. Megatron asks just what the hell is going on, but unfortunately Magnus isn’t sure either. Then his shuttle disappears, and it’s bye-bye grunge girl Magnus.

It’s at this point that Nightbeat decides it’s time to stop pussyfooting around and get serious. He tells Ratchet to throw HIPPA directly in the garbage and write down everything he knows about the Autobots who crewed the Lost Light. And he does mean everything, as we get the splash page again, this time with lots of neat info on our friends, including spark type.

Spark types will become plot-relevant in the storyline after this, but for now let’s focus on some weird gender essentialism that got slapped into the first print of this issue.

As we know very well by this point, Transformers as a franchise has a tumultuous relationship with the idea of women existing. You would think that the awkward introduction of other genders we got in “Dark Cybertron” would have been the end of things being weird in IDW. However, you would be wrong.

In an effort to explain why genders exist, Roberts had the idea to make it spark-based. Nautica, in the solo print of this issue, has an estriol-positive spark. Estriol is a type of estrogen, which is the hormone that develops and maintains feminine secondary sex characteristics, when present in certain levels, in conjunction with other hormones. Biology

This “spark = gender” idea is, generally speaking, not a great idea to be presenting us with, especially when the writer is a cishet male, because it implies biological essentialism- the idea that a personality trait/quality of a person is innate and predetermined by their biology, as opposed to social, cultural, or individual experiences. Because this story doesn’t exist in a vacuum, it’s irresponsible to reduce the experience of being a woman to a single, physical, unchangable asset, especially when all other assets of the same class have zero effect on one’s gender identity. You don’t exactly see many nonbinary robots running around, now do you? And there are definitely more than two spark types, despite the Transformers as a species being... very binary.

It also makes female Transformers into an “other”, which is a problem that has existed from the very start of the franchise, in some form or fashion, and really doesn’t need to be perpetrated anymore than it already is.

The estriol spark type was removed in the trade edition, and Roberts has expressed regrets over its inclusion, having realized that it was potentially offensive.

Getting back to the story, Swerve, Tailgate, and Ratchet have disappeared, though Ratchet seems to have left his hands behind. His stolen, Pharma-original hands.

That’s still fucked up to me. I don’t think it’ll ever not be fucked up.

Riptide reveals the reason that he wasn’t in Season One of MTMTE was because when he went back to grab a receipt for the ship two years prior, he’d discovered that the original owners were worshipers of Mortilus, Cybertronian god of death, and knew about the nasty little problem that was the sparkeater from the first storyline. When Riptide went to confront them about it, they beat him up so bad he was unconscious for two solid days.

Which is a long-ass time to be unconscious. That might have been a coma, Riptide. Jesus, I hope someone got him to a hospital after this beatdown happened, or at least scraped him off the floor.

With this last piece of the puzzle, we finally have the common denominator in this big ol’ mystery. Everyone who disappeared was on the Lost Light when it took off from Cybertron in issue #1, and everyone left behind- Skids, Getaway, Nightbeat, Nautica, Megatron, and Ravage- didn’t join until afterwords.

Of course, having the answer doesn’t do us much good when everyone is still missing, and Megatron seems to agree with me, because he’s about to throw hands, when Nautica lets them know that they’ve arrived at the rendezvous. Problem is, so has something else.

...

I’m sure it’s fiiiiiiiiiiiiine!

#transformers #jro #MTMTE #issue 31 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #incoming analysis #overthinking about robots #comic script writing

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sunderedazem · 2 years

Note

5 and 6 + Corrain for the OC asks

OH Thank u for the ask!!! (I am sorry ahead of time i went on a Long-Ass Tangent-) 5. What kind of clothes is your oc most comfortable wearing?

So, this varies, actually, based off when in his story he is!

Pre-Vitiate/Ch2 Class Story ending - He usually prefers soft (but not silky or too-smooth) fabrics and light, swishy clothing, in neutral earth tones. Loose is better for the most part, though he'll wrap up any swishy sleeves well above the wrist area so there's no accidental Lightsaber Accidents. Basically he's most comfortable in the traditional Jedi robes he's grown up wearing, as long as the fabric is soft - or anything similar in design. Also, since he mainlines the acrobatic Form IV in battle at this point, the lighter his gear and clothes overall, the better.

Post Vitiate Trauma/Ch2 Class Story ending - Armor or heavy leather/armorweave/similar-material clothing, mostly in darker colors. He still likes soft fabrics, and he still uses Form IV a lot, but after THAT...he wants to feel protected, all the time. Form-fitting clothing is best for him now, (soft, cottony internal textures are nice, no silky/satiny feel), and heavier boots and gloves are appreciated too. Lightweight armor worn tight is also a bonus - keeps him from feeling like he's coming apart. It helps that by this point he's not quite so reliant on Ataru form, and leans more into Form VII, Juyo (the dark version of Mace Windu's Vaapad).

KOTET/KOTFE and beyond - Kind of a nice middleground between the two! He's still picky about cloth textures, but he likes both flowing extra fabric and more form-fitting innerwear, sometimes combined with armor. He's far more fluid in switching around his lightsaber combat forms, and he's learned that he likes the obscuring factor of flowy sleeves or capes or skirts or robes or etc, but he still wants something heavier sitting close to his skin. The weight can be comforting for him.

Throughout all of this, however, I realize I am talking about his clothing *function* and *texture* and not style skjdfhakjsdh so- he's ALWAYS most comfy in practical clothes. His definition of practical just shifts from "Jedi Streetwear" to "Combat-Ready Right Fkkn Now" around the Vitiate Time.

6. What kind of clothes is your oc least comfortable wearing?

Easy. Anything that makes him look even the slightest bit attractive. If he thinks he Looks Kind Of Nice in the mirror, he goes cherry-red and flustered and wants it Off. Formalwear, casual non-Jedi streetwear, exercise gear, pajamas - nothing is spared. Boy is self-conscious to the extreme, and ALSO has the terrible perfectionist complex where he physically cannot comprehend the idea that he Doesn't Have To Be Doing Something Useful. So if he's wearing something that he can't be Ready to Go in under two minutes in, he's uncomfortable. Looking Nice is for downtime and he can't afford downtime so.../pats him/

Also, to the material side of things - satin/silky textures will murder him in cold blood, he swears it. He hates those even over the quintessential itchy woolen texture (yes i'm projecting SUE ME) and will probably throw a tantrum (or just pout) when he eventually has to wear Nice Things including that texture

Thank you for the ask!!! Sorry it got so long, lmao....all over clothing choices....i may have a Problem (one idiot jedi knight OC)

#jedi knight #jedi knight oc #corrain #davi answers!#i gave him my cloth-texture preferences oops #moonrise legacy

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spiltscribbles · 3 years

Text

The One With The Soulmate

~Notes: Hiya loves! This is a one shot from my The One With The Marauders series and I’m just moving it here to Tumblr<3

Send ME A Friends Episode/Storyline | A Reblog Means The World!!

“You are seriously insatiable tonight,” Remus rebukes, swatting Sirius’s hand away from where he was eagerly grabbing at his arse for another round of fun, positively delicious, bloody remarkable, mind-blowing fun. God Sirius thanks every deity above that he fell in love with such a secretive, little wildcat.

“Oi, wasn’t the whole purpose of this getting married shtick so we could do that whenever we please?” Sirius harrumphs, flopping back on their bed, starfished out as he watches his ridiculously beautiful husband dropping his towel to the floor and digging through their shared drawer for a new pair of pants. He really tries his damndest to not focus on how the dying evening light filters through their room’s open window, bathing Remus in this resplendent, almost heavenly glow, turning the tips of his eyelashes as golden as his hair and caressing the dips and valleys of his lithe muscles, accentuating the smattering of freckles on his thighs and the dimples he’s got on the small of his back. God Sirius can’t take his eyes off of him for even a moment. “Because if not I reckon I can sue for false advertising.”

Remus only sniffs at him, affecting a lofty air as he pulls on the green, turtle net sweater that Sirius especially likes on him for how it brings out the amber flecks in Remus’s emerald eyes and how it hugs his physique in the exact right breath to show off how bloody good looking he is. “We did that right when you came home from the firm, and then again in the shower less than five minutes ago. Don’t tell me it was that forgettable?” He asks with a pointed hiking of the brow.

“Never my lovely little croissant,” Sirius contends hurriedly, popping up from his lounging position to snatch for Remus’s boney wrists, and dragging the shorter man down to sit in his still very naked lap. “You are the best shag and handsomest fellow and—“ Remus claps his hand over Sirius’s mouth, probably trying to come off stern, but Sirius could totally catch the way the corner of his lips begin to flinch upwards— he’s endeared and Sirius knows it.

“Enough of that bollocks, else I’ll get a cavity.”

“But my beautiful crumpet, I want to sing your praises,” Sirius pouts mockingly, kisses the tip of his nose, while one of his well built arms slings around Remus’s slender waste, with his free hand slowly crawling up his inner thigh, thwarted nearly immediately by Remus standing up in a huff.

“Like a bloody mutt.” He scolds.

“Only for you my delightfully delectable cabbage,” Sirius leers, finally standing up and taking the proffered slacks so to get ready for this little soiree Lily’s law firm is holding for their fiftieth anniversary.

“When do you reckon these awful nicknames will drop off?”

“You’re the one who said you like it when I speak French at you,” Sirius goads, smacking Remus’s pert arse as he struts into their master-bath.

“Oi, when it’s spoken in the ruddy language, and not some awful accent you’ve conjured up.” Remus counters moodily before he grabs for one of the colognes on their vanity, and Sirius only smiles privately to himself, so beyond besotted with him that it’s getting detrimental for his health, exhibit A being how he very nearly squirts his aftershave right into his eyes.

But God Remus is so worth it.

The ballroom of the swanky, Mayfair hotel is dressed up in all the opulence that should be expected for a soiree made up of the throng of stuffy, stuck up solicitors that are present. Sirius is not impressed in the slightest, even if he can work the room for one of these parties as effortlessly as breathing thanks to his upbringing as the son of a Lorde and Countess; though he still hates the ambiance of it all, so much so that it makes his skin crawl to this day, but he promised to be here and at least Remus is right besides him, with Sirius’s hand in his back pocket and hazel eyes flickering to him every few minutes or so, as if attuned to Sirius and all his mercurial moods.

God he loves him.

“Alice and I have been shagging non stop,” Frank says, which works well enough to bring Sirius’s attention away from wanting to drag Remus behind the champaign fountain so to have his wicked way with him, and back to the conversation they’re all having; even if that means that instead of looking passive, Sirius is sneering over at Frank.

“Dacorum man.”

Frank apologizes, beyond glum. “We just don’t know what to do. The doctors say that we shouldn’t have this much difficulty with it, but we just checked before coming and still, nothing.”

“I’m sorry mate, that’s awful.” Remus tells him, and Dorcas nods along, but Sirius just rolls his eyes.

“We’re not even thirty yet for fuck’s sake,” he tells him. “Maybe ’s a sign for you both to stop trying to ruin your lives with a baby.”

“Shut it Sirius,” Dorcas hisses, kicking at his ankle hard enough to make him wince.

“Ouch, hey! I’m just saying, a kid’s a lot of responsibility, and commitment.”

“I’ve been with Alice since we were seventeen Black,” Frank tells him hotly . “I think I’m already properly committed.”

“Then what’s the point of the kid!”

Frank raises his brows, floundering with no words as if he just could not comprehend Sirius and all his Sirius-ness, which is fair, the only two people who’s been able to do as much turned out being his brother, (James), and his lover, (Remus)… Speaking of which…

“I’m sorry he’s acting like such an arse Frank, he doesn’t mean it.” the sandy blonde says cooly, giving Sirius one of his looks that he usually keeps designated for his more rowdy students. “Do you.”

Sirius glares at him before looking back at Frank and nodding stiffly. “Sorry mate, you and Flores would be marvelous parents, I’m just being prickish.”

“Nothing knew then,” Frank says, but it’s coupled with an amiable grin so Sirius knows he’s off the hook.

“Right, well why don’t I make it up to you by grabbing you a drink? Yeah?”

“See if they’ve got an iced white?”

“Me too Black,” Dorcas scoffs, doesn’t even bother to look at him to make the command.

“Righto,” Sirius claps Frank’s shoulder with a friendly squeeze, winking at Dorcas and glancing over at Remus before he goes. “Vodka tonic?”

“With lemon please.”

Sirius nods, still pecks him on the lips even if they’re sorta in a fight, as if Sirius could ever stay away for too long.

By the grace of God, the open bar is mostly vacant, except for a familiar head of messy hair he’s considered family for over half his life.

“All right Prongs?”

James pivots around, drinks already in hand and grinning at the sight of him. “Wow, didn’t even recognize you for a tick there Pads, you don’t even have your hand plastered to Moony’s bum!.”

Sirius smirks, tossing him a covert two finger salute as he saddles up besides him and orders the round of drinks. “What can I say Prongsy, the cheeky bugger made me vow to have it there constantly, can’t just jilt my bloke like that, can I?”

James grimaces with a roll of the eyes, and Sirius’s far accustomed to that look of exasperation from him by now. “You’re a mutt.”

“Would you believe you aren’t the first person to say that to me within the last hour?”

“God save our poor Moony.”

“Oh God doesn’t have to worry, I’m taking care of him just fine.”

“Are you being gross about my best friend,” Lily asks as she struts up towards them, looking like an absolute diamond, even if her nose is wrinkled indelicately.

“Aren’t I always in your opinion?” Sirius asks cheekily, trying to balance the four drinks in his grasp before she just rolls her eyes and grabs the flutes of wine for Frank and Dorcas.

“Your impossible prat-ness aside, I actually think you being all grossly territorial over Remus tonight is actually a good thing.”

“THat’s a first,” James says, but Sirius can only glare, suspicious.

“Why’s that? Oi! Don’t tell me that absolute plonker Dearborn is here!”

“Oh God no,” Lily startles, shaking her head as if the thought was too insane to even fathom. “’S just the firm’s just hired this new bloke and I’m really quite positive that he’s Rem’s soulmate.”

“Lily! Don’t say that!” James balks, glancing over at Sirius worriedly, but he in turn only laughs at the magnitude of the statement.

“Jesus, Evans, didn’t think you believed in that ridiculous shite?”

“’S not ridiculous Sirius! And yeah, ‘course I do, like James and I are definitely soulmates.” She twists slightly so to kiss the curve of James’s jaw, making him go a bit blotchy. Poor git’s wrapped around her littlest finger.

“And what? You reckon Remus and I are just here to kill some time?”

“No, don’t be a pillock,” Lily reproves. “’s just he’s his soulmate is all.”

Okay, Sirius’s amusement has officially given way to irritation, and he twists his head so to scowl down at her as they make their way to the others. “Alright Evans, explain yourself then, yeah? Tell me how he’s Moony’s supposed soulmate.

“Well he’s French.”

“I speak French.”

“He’s got amazing, blonde hair.”

“I’ve got amazing, black hair.”

“He majored in literature just like Remus.” Lily says airily, knowing that Sirius can’t match that being an architect himself.

“Well— I read all that snotty shite Remus asks me too.” He huffs, and Lily answers with a shrug to her delicate shoulders.

“Fine then, I’m wrong. You’ve got nothing to worry bout.”

She struts off to their little lump of friends as if to cut the conversation off completely, and Sirius is perfectly find with that. She’s acting off her bloody rocker. But, if Sirius stands closer to Remus than usual for the rest of the night, or if he ends up kissing his temple whenever he feels like someone is watching them, or if he glares at one of the blokes working catering after deigning to offer Remus an empanada— Well that’s Sirius’s business and his alone. He’s not intimidated by this soulmate shite, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like he’s trying to stave off the bastard or something. He does all of that simply because Remus is his husband now, and he loves getting to show that off to all onlookers, even the ones who may or may not be Remus’s soulmate.

“We’ve got dinner with Reggie and his latest girlfriend tonight,” Remus tells Sirius the following Tuesday, tossing the scarf his mother had gifted him last Christmas— with a matching one for Sirius— over his shoulder as they stroll around to the front of the Three Broomsticks for their morning coffees, hands linked and the early winter snow catching in both sets of their lashes.

And God does Sirius love the sound of that, of their schedules overlapping, becoming one almost. Loves the idea that where ever one goes the other follows. Sirius knows that they’ve both have their demons, from Sirius’s neglect and emotional abuse as a child— occasionally sprinkled with a good smack or two if his mother was particularly fuming. To Remus’s complex of never feeling like he can ever be enough, and the way Lyall had acted for years after Remus had come out to his parents as gay, coupled with his multiple hospital visits as a lad until they finally figured out his lupus diagnosis. But they’re better, so much fucking better now. Plenty of the credit going to the remarkable group of friends whom they’ve picked up along the way, but another huge chunk was finding one another, and Sirius knows it in his bones. Knows that there couldn’t be anyone else for him, and sure he knows Remus sometimes deserves more, deserves better— But he’s chosen him, he’s chosen Sirius. He loves Sirius. And it’s remarkable and unbelievable and amazing, and Sirius holds onto the sensation of it with hungry piety.

“Love? Did you hear that?”

Sirius jolts back to the moment, and smiles softly down at him, kissing the corner of Remus’s mouth in penance. “Yes, of course gorgeous. I didn’t forget, I’ll be home early and maybe we can have a lie down before leaving if you’ve finished grading those papers?”

Remus’s laugh right then is like the most splendid instrument Sirius has ever heard, light and magical and warm as a bonfire. “Try to be good and maybe.” He tells him with a cold fingered tapping of his nose before he flounces off to the main counter to order for them.

Sirius doesn’t know how long he stares after him instead of grabbing the gang’s typical seats up front, but is startled when he hear’s a choked out noise coming from behind him and sees Lily, panic faced and eyes wandering frantically.

“Oi, what’s squirming up your arse Evans.” He asks her suspiciously, thick brows furrowed.

“I didn’t know you guys would be here,” she explains so quickly that her words begin to crash into one another. “Oh bloody hell, the one time I have a late start!”

She stomps her foot and Sirius shoots her a fully fledged glower. “What is making you so damn barmy for Christ’s sake.”

Lily parts her lips, but no noise comes out, because right then someone follows her indoors, a very familiar someone if only based off of descriptions. A very tall, very blonde, very smiley looking someone.

Sirius hates him right on sight.

“I’m sorry I took so long at that shop Lily, my mother loves these, how do you say, snow globes?” The stranger says, shaking one for emphasis with Big Ben set in the center.

“Ridiculous tourist trinkets is more like it,” Sirius practically snarls, which earns him a confused look by the blonde and a tired one by Lily.

“Right then, well Sirius this’s Thomas Martin, Thomas this is Sirius Black.”

“Lupin-Black now, ta Lils.”

“Oh,” Thomas says, blue eyes blinking wearily. “Nice to meet you, ah, Sirius.” He extends his hand, and when Sirius shakes it he makes sure to feel the bloke’s bones crushing together, just so he understands who exactly he’s speaking with.

The French arse eventually pulls away, pinning Sirius with a one eyed squint as he curls and stretches his fingers.

“Oh God,” Lily groans, leading them to their spot and depositing herself onto the sofa with absolute exasperation, and Sirius only continues to glare at Thomas as he sits besides her, growing stiffer once Remus returns.

“Oh, hiya Lils,” he smiles, handing Sirius his drink before flickering his gaze to the fucking Frenchman.

“‘lo love, this’s the newest hire at the firm, Thomas. Thomas, this’s my best mate, Remus.” She introduces quickly, the fucking trader.

“Remus?” Thomas asks, dimpling down at Sirius’s fucking husband with bright eyes. And Sirius has to curl his fists so not to punch him right in the sodding face, only growing angrier when Remus chuckles and ducks his head, like he was nervous by him! Like he thought he was in fact very good looking and very charming and his damn soulmate.

“Yeah, blame that on my mum, she was big into the classics.”

Thomas’s grin widens even more and Sirius feels the pulse on his neck beginning to throb. “No, it’s very charming. My Grandfather was very, erm, focussed on those studies as well? Begged my parents to name me Enkidu. They thankfully refused.”

Remus laughs fully now, and Sirius wants to a punch a wall. It took him literal months to make Remus laugh like that— genuine and glimmering and gorgeous. “Lucky bloke. Though I do have to admit that Gilgamesh is a favorite of mine, I think I’ve read the epic twenty times over.”

“Oh mine too,” the fucking Frenchman says, stepping closer to Remus and now in front of Sirius fully, gambling bravely that Sirius wouldn’t try to cap him right here. “If you ask me however, I do believe that he and Enkidu are more than just, friends.” His eyes flicker down to Remus’s lips for a split second and when he looks back up his face is positively leering.

Sirius sees red.

“God, so nice to finally talk to someone who gets it, the professors I work under are usually so painfully heteronormative that it’s crippling.” Remus tells him, smiling kindly.

“Oh, I’m the furthest away from that, I assure you.”

He winks! He fucking winks! Sirius swears to God! He sees the bastard winking at his husband! His fucking husband! What the bloody hell does he think that platinum band on Remus’s finger matching Sirius’s own is suppose to represent! Holy shit!

“I’d love to read anything you have on the subject, most things translated to French are a bit clunky.”

He’s trying to ask him out! Right here! Right in front of Sirius! Sirius is going to strangle his snail swallowing neck! Thankfully, Lily must sense his inner turmoil because she interjects their conversation right then, asking Thomas to grab her a jasmine tea.

“Oh yes of course,” he nods congenially, rounding back on Remus before he leaves. “Would you like a pastry? On me.”

Is he trying to ask Remus to eat it off of him? What the hell! It took nearly a year of them fucking for Sirius to get Remus to bring food in the bedroom, to get to watch Remus lick the chocolate syrup off his cock. And what? Does he think he’s even got a chance so quickly!

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Remus grins and a part of Sirius dies on the inside. “But I’ll come tag along, yeah? I love talking about this stuff and Sirius absolutely hates this ancient rubbish.”

“I do not! I think these dead blokes are very interesting,” he harrumphs, heated, with pouting lips and crossed arms. But Remus only tosses back his head with uninhibited laughter in response, which makes the fucking Frenchman beam that bit brighter.

“After you,” he says with a swish of the hand.

Sirius is going to be tried for murder, and he’s not even sorry about it.

“’s okay love,” Lily reassures him, patting his head dotingly. “We’ll find you someone new.”

“I hate you Evans!”

“Don’t blame the messenger!”

Sirius is about to tell her just how much he does exactly that, but then he catches on the fucking Frenchman putting his hand over Remus’s to prevent him from sliding over his card and all the fight leaves him in an instant.

Sirius ended up not even going to the on sight location for the latest project he’s heading at the firm. He instead spent the bulk of the morning and part of the afternoon grinding his teeth as Remus spoke and barbed and giggled with the fucking Frenchman, like he was enjoying himself. And it was torture, watching the way they naturally clicked and got on— Literal fucking torture.

Sirius is still fuming as they sit in front of his younger brother and his newest bird, a pretty girl named Amal, who’s just graduated from a posh, fashion institute in the north of France. And Christ it’s like he’s being bombarded with the idea of that country all day.

“God that must’ve been such a wonderful experience,” Remus says, smiling as she leans forwards with a grin, speaking louder over the chatter of the busy sushi joint they had all agreed upon.

“Oh yes, the cuisine was simply unmatched, even if I did end up missing London, being home and all. Though I’m afraid my French is seriously dwindling compared to my English and Arabic now.”

“You should ask Reggie to practice with you, I know I love it when Sirius speaks the language.” He winks right then, making Amal crow with laughter and Regulus roll his eyes fondly. But Sirius stays peeved off with his hinged jaw, absolutely seething.

“Bet my hopeless brother recites poetry to you and everything, rose in his mouth and all.”

Remus laughs and Sirius suddenly has the horrid image of the fucking Frenchman doing as much outside the window to their bedroom, and is furious all over again.

“Well Reggie, Remus here does fancy all things French, foods and wines and blokes and just the whole lot.”

“Well good, we have something in common,” Amal snickers, lacing her hand through Regulus’s own over the tabletop. Sirius and Remus haven’t held hands since the waitress brought out their drinks, and remembering as much makes Sirius take a swig of his ail, hating everything.

“Yes well, you can say it’s Remus’s soulmate, France I mean.” He says, words beginning to slur. “He’s meant for French food and wines and blokes, innit true love? You’d prefer a French bloke?”

Amal frowns and Regulus pins him with a one eyed squint, befuddled. But Sirius only gathers his wits about him when Remus clammers noisily out his chair and tugs on his arm to follow suit.

“Reg order us the specials yeah? And a round of spring rolls,” he instructs, words clipped, and a small dent peeking out between his brows, like it does when he’s especially annoyed. “C’mon Sirius we need to talk.”

“But that’d be awfully rude,” Sirius retorts, already hates the flat, fuming tone Remus is speaking with, and feels good and properly nervous for the impending argument.

“They have one another, ’s fine. Now let’s go.”

Sirius concedes and pretends it doesn’t feel like he’s being lead to the gallows.

“All right prick,” Remus huffs, rounding on Sirius right after he locks the door to the single user loo. “What has gotten you in such a bloody awful mood.”

Sirius sniffs, arms crossed against his chest and his head tilted imperiously. “I’m peachy.”

“You’ve been acting like an arse ever since we had coffee with Lily,” Remus counters, reproving.

“Actually love, if you didn’t notice, Lily left about halfway through you and the blonde’s little clucking session.”

Remus furrows his brows now, pillowy lips pinched and looking lost as hell. “You’re angry because Lily left for work?”

“Oh for bloody hell Remus!” Sirius erupts, tossing his arms in the air. “I’m angry because you met your ruddy soulmate and now you’re going to ride off into the sunset with’m and read French poetry together while eating cheese and bread and talking about highbrow shit like Aeneid!”

Remus startles backwards, long lashes flapping and mouth gaped open. “Oh Christ, you’ve gone absolutely barmy. You’re mad.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I feel like I should call someone about my husband going bloody mental.”

“I repeat. Not. Helping.”

“What in hell has convinced you that this random bloke is my soulmate?” Remus asks, back to being patient as ever.

“Lily!” Sirius shouts. “She told me that you and the fucking Frenchman are soulmates! And she’s right okay! She’s bloody spot on.”

Remus rolls back his entire head now, groaning out, “You are such an idiot.”

“Real nice Moons,” Sirius frowns, doesn’t even know how to feel now, the anger seeping out of him the longer he’s standing besides Remus, leaving an awful, clawing abandonment in its wake.

“Did you ever once think to ask me what I think of the damn concept of soulmates? Hmm?” He asks, single brow hiked with pure condescension.

And oh.

Sirius is stuck for a minute there, doesn’t see an out to the question. “Well…. Erm—“

“Well if you had asked, like a normal sodding bloke! I wold’ve told you that I married you because I know your my soulmate you arse! And it isn’t because of some ridiculous notion of stardust or providence or whatever else. It’s because we grew together, and we fight for one another, and even when you’re being a complete prick or we’re arguing like mad you’re the only one I want. Only person I can ever see myself with, the only person I want to try this hard for. The only fucking person I ever want to call my husband! My partner! lover!”

“Oh.” Sirius breathes out, all his fears being strangled by the conviction embedded into Remus’s words.

And it’s like all of Sirius’s insides melt, like all the adoration and love and reverence he holds for Remus is pooling in his stomach and threatening to pour out his every orifice. And God he can’t even inhale, only scrambles to lock his hands around Remus’s cheeks and press his head against Remus’s own.

“Yeah? You really think that.”

“Hell, I thought the wedding and all would’ve made that clear.”

Sirius chuckles, only lightly, his thumb dragging beneath Remus’s eye tenderly. “God I love you, so endlessly. Please forgive me for being an idiot?”

“Yeah, I suppose I’ll keep you around,” Remus teases, bouncing on the balls of his feet to kiss Sirius’s nose and lock his arms around his neck, and the sensation of it— them knotted into one another— could never be replicated in a thousand years, not like this, not like them.

Other Wolfstar One Shots | Send Me A Prompt

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #harry potter series #spilt ink #FIC: Friends AU

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venteamocha · 3 years

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Hello! Sometimes I see you post stuff from IF blogs and I've recently started playing some IF games, which I've enjoyed so far. Do you have any IF stories you'd recommend in particular? I'm not attached to any particular genre and I don't need romance or a self-insert main character, (though I'm not opposed to either). Though, it's a definite plus if it's LGBTQ+ inclusive! I'm not really sure what the "cornerstones" are of IF so I'll take any and all recommendations haha

Oh god, I play so many IFs. So many. And it’s not even close to all of them, but I’m trying!!

Tbh IFs without romance seems to be very rare, I think because when I think IF I think Choice of Games, and those pretty much always have romance in them. At least, the most well known ones do. But a well done one without romance would be nice too!

Okay, this is a list of my favourites! They’re all LGBT+ inclusive, and most have gender selectable love interests, or at least ones that change gender depending on the gender and sexuality combination you pick. In no particular order, of course. Behind a cut because I’m gonna give them each a mini review. Because I haven’t done that yet.

(There are so many.)

Mind Blind: I absolutely love our big brother Nick, I love how witty and sharp so much of the dialogue is, I love how the MC clearly has a rather large handicap, but is still such an important person to so many people and not looked down on in the slightest. And when they are, we all know it’s because that person is a jerk! They’re not defined by what they aren’t, but what they are, and that’s a great message.

Shepherds of Haven: Part of why I love this one so much is I just love fantasy settings and this one just pulls it off so well. The cast is full of amazing characters, and I gotta say I die inside pretty regularly for not being able to afford the patreon content, lol. The author puts so much amazing stuff on there, and gives us so much great content in the game and through answers on tumblr, and you can tell this whole thing is just the best thing ever to them, and that makes it the best ever for us readers too!

The Wayhaven Chronicles: I’d be shot if I didn’t mention this one, the series that literally killed dashingdon when the book 3 demo dropped!! Again, another author that cares a lot and does their best to do right by their fans. We’ve been given drip after drip of these amazing characters backstories, and I just cannot wait for more! It’s definitely very romance centered, but the overall plotlines are also very good, and I have to say that no matter who I romance, I just feel like the group as a whole is a family. And that’s wonderful.

Speaker: I really like the lore. I really like the lore. I can’t wait until we get more of the overall plotline. Mostly I want my Speaker to get in deep trouble so Seb, Li and Seer (best sister ever) go off and beat the shit out of whatever is causing it. This probably says something about me, but what can I say, I thrive on angst and inflicting near death injuries on my OCs. Sometimes I even kill them, although all of this is offtopic. Or is it? I guess we’ll find out, although I doubt we’ll actually be able to kill off Speaker. And yes, I am definitely playing the Seb & Li poly route. I love them both so much.

Wilhelmina: I love vampires, ok? Ok? And this one is based off Dracula!! The OG!! And you can choose Drac’s gender!! Shit, sign me up forever!! Yeah, she might be literally killing my bff, torturing my fiancé and low key fucking with my mind, but vampires are hot!! Let me live! Or not. But yeah, this is a really well done retelling of the Dracula novel and I like how well it works as an IF. Did I mention I like vampires?? Especially when they get all monstery?? (This one has an MC with a set gender, as it’s based on an already existing literary figure. Mina can have a same sex relationship with dracula, if you make drac a female, or with Lucy, a female love interest.)

More Things in Heaven and Earth: Hi Nell!! First off, I gotta uncover a deep shame of mine. My family literally has a Shakespeare heirloom collection. As in, my greatgrandfather passed down through the family a collection of Shakespeare that was published in 1911. In ye olde englishe. I tried to read it when I was like 10 and was like what language is this?? What the fuck? What the fuck??? And ended up reading As You Like It, a bit of Romeo and Juliet, and a little of Hamlet. Didn’t touch the rest of it. I only got into the other stories through trashy ya reimaginings. That said, this retelling of Hamlet inspired me to go read the whole of the original and now I have a lot of fears for these characters that I’m so much more attached to, oh god I hope my Ophelia has a happy ending. I hope Hamlet himself has a happy ending. The dialogue is so well done, everyone is engaging, and yeah it made me finish an old af book when nothing else did. (This one also has an MC with a set gender, female, for the same reason. However, there are two gender variable love interests, so you can very much play a bi or gay Ophelia if you so choose.)

Guenevere: I love King Arthur. All the myths. I have so many books based on the King Arthur mythos, oh dear god. I love pretty much every version of it. All the movie and tv shows too! I just can’t get enough of those knights. I could go on for paragraphs about how courtly love worked and how all the different social castes were, but I’ll try not to. This series lets you customize Guen as a character to an amazing degree, considering that she’s also based on an actual literary figure like the other two I mentioned above. It really feels like she becomes your own character, and yet she still exists within this world very very well. I worry quite a bit that the author might have bit off more than they can chew with the current book they’re working on, what I’ve seen of it looks absolutely massive in scale. What is out so far is a wonderful read though, full of drama and laughter and lots of chances to make the story your own.

Bastard of Camelot: Yep! Another King Arthur series! Sue me! This one lets you set Mordred’s gender though, so it’s more inclusive in that way. It is very interesting to play as one of the “bad guys” of the King Arthur mythos. You can play them as straight up evil, as good, or you know, a bit of column a and a bit of column b. Or they can just be a rude little shit. It’s got dragons too! You get a dragon pet! Dragons are cool. It can be a bit tough to play sometimes, since a lot of people dislike Mordred quite a lot because of prejudices. Hopefully this will change a bit later in the series if you’ve been a fairly good person up to that point. Gotta say though, as a warning, that Mordred is a product of incest. It’s not glossed over, and it does cause a lot of problems for them in the story.

God of the Red Mountain: I just love that this inspired me to read more chinese mythology tbh. There is just so much here! And it’s just such a good read. I wish I was better at describing things. The MC being a spirit that you can define, the whole setting, most of the love interests also being spirits, the massive amount of history and culture and lore, how it all fits together. It is such a well done story. I really wish it got more attention than it does. I still miss Big Sister. I still can’t wait to find out more about the foxes, and how we can heal our MC.

The Nameless: Another one that lets you play as something otherworldly. I love the lore behind this one, and I love all of the cast I’ve met. I kind of like that our MC isn’t loved right off the bat, that we’ll have to win over all of our love interests and even the other npcs. I’m up for the challenge! Everything I’ve read on the tumblr for these characters just makes me love them all more tbh. I love how much they’ve written for all of them! Most of all though, I love Oisein. All the art of them is just *chef kiss* and their personality is magical.

A Mage Reborn: This is a really recent one but!! Wow, it’s really well done! That cliffhanger!! Oof!! Not many books literally start with killing your MC off! That takes guts! I told the author this already, but I love the way they formatted this, the way it starts with the end, so to speak, and then fills it all out. It just made everything feel so poignant, how MC is literally looking back at all these moments in time in the last minutes they have before they die. Shit. That’s powerful. And there’s gonna be more??? Can’t wait for that angst. Give me that drama. Of course I picked the one who had me killed, that’s just how I am!

These are all just the COG type games, there are a few twine games with graphics I’d throw on here, but the list is long enough as it is and they feel like they’re in a different category to me. Maybe it’s just me?

#if #if recs #rivi's recs #interactive fiction #there are more than these that i like too!#these are just the ones i feel the strongest about #and as i said these don't include the itchio twine ones #there are amazing ones there too but that feels like it should be a separate post?#i'd put links but i think it won't show up anywhere if i do #because tumblr is A Site #i can pass them on though if needed

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imaginesfora3 · 3 years

Text

Stormy [Furuichi Sakyo/Reader]

Nights like these weren’t uncommon.

You had found that the stormier it was outside the easier it was to cozy up with Sakyo on the couch, romance permeating through the air; he was normally seated there watching some movie you’d never heard of, allowing you to join him if you promised not to talk. It’s not as though you wanted to have a full-blown conversation with him constantly but him saying that always made you want to annoy him a little, poke fun at how seriously he took analyzing movies for the sake of acting, but you saved that for when you wanted a piece of his rowdy side. The pouring rain made you a little more complacent and you agreed to his rules, flopping yourself down beside him with your legs thrown across his lap as you watched.

Sakyo wasn’t the ‘Netflix and chill’ type of man, if you told him you wanted to watch a movie with him, he was going to watch it. It didn’t fit the situation perfectly since you had injected yourself into his personal time but it at least gave you the chance to observe his handsome face without him telling you to scram. You watched his face uninterrupted, noticing the subtle little changes when something happened in the movie to change his mood; it was hard to see if you weren’t looking closely but Sakyo could be rather expressive, and you delighted in seeing all the little faces he made without even knowing.

You think he might be getting distracted when his hand rested on your thigh but he’s as laser-focused as ever, his hand slowly moving up and down your calf in a comforting motion. You wondered how many people would be in awe to see such a scary man give such an intimate show of affection, fingers gliding along your skin as you wriggled under his touch, inching ever closer. You managed to get a side glance out of him but it was your turn to pretend to be enthralled with the movie, knowing he could read you like a book but still pretending anyway.

There had been a time where Sakyo never would have imagined this.

Never would have thought he would be sitting beside the person he loved, holding them, feeling the warmth of their skin and the weight of their admiring gaze. He had denied himself such pleasures for so long for the sake of their happiness, or so he had said. Maybe he just didn’t know how to be a good boyfriend, maybe it was safer to hide behind every excuse he could pile up until the wall was so packed in there was no one willing to tear it down. It had been a team effort to level the playing field once more, a solid effort of you slowly picking away at him while brick by brick he allowed himself to be vulnerable with you.

Did he think he deserved you?

Not in the slightest.

It was a mindset that you scolded him over, seemed to get genuinely upset over which was understandable enough as it had caused a fair bit of fighting between you. You had even broken up for months, Sakyo unable to properly talk with you, skirting around the concept of love and insisting you were better off as friends. He thought you were presenting him an ultimatum, either love or nothing at all, but in the end, he understood that things between you would never be normal again if he let you go. He wouldn’t just be lacking in your love but your presence entirely, and even with those walls built back up, they would never be as strong, not after you. Not when you had created such a solid crack in its foundation.

But that was why you insisted on building a new one, a foundation you could stand on and build together. No cracks, total transparency, an understanding. He had thought it was just a romantic notion to be able to start over at his age, to be able to see something from someone else’s view point when he was so stubborn himself. But your sincerity reached him, his heart was never as cold as he tried to make it seem, and you never exploited that part of him. You loved and cherished and teased, but you never hurt him, not willingly.

Sakyo wished that the movie didn’t speak to him so clearly, that the miscommunication between the two protagonists didn’t ring so true to life, but it seemed even Hollywood was able to get it right once in a while. The teary-eyed main character reminded him of you, of your frustration, desperate to get him to understand. The stoic secondary character, the love interest, the one who rejected their feelings and refused to admit to them, truly believing the person they loved back was better off without them. There’s also a sense of embarrassment lingering in the back of his mind as he identified with this overdramatic movie far too much for this being a parallel to his reality.

“Sakyo, are you really gonna make me sit through the credits without talking, too?” You had moved your legs from his lap and had instead moved to lean against him, arms wrapped around his as you rested your head on his shoulder. “That ending was depressing. Who wrote that? I should sue.”

“…Not everyone has a happy ending.” A true enough statement but he knew it might just cause an argument if he’s to start a debate about what makes a truly great love story; some of them ended in tragedy, forever a mark on the hearts of those involved.

“…I guess you’re right.” An unsettling silence filled the room as Sakyo looked down at you, lips pursed as he tried to think of something to say. He hoped it didn’t come off as him assuming you and he would have a bad ending, he would never wish that on you after all that you had already suffered through. He had broken your heart more than enough for one lifetime, to the point he knew he’d be making it up for the rest of his life. “You should try watching something upbeat for once.”

“I watch everything as long as it’s good.” That was a lie, you had totally seen him watching some of the trashiest movies to ever grace the big screen, but from the smile on his face you realized it was a joke. He was in rare form tonight, not only outwardly showing you affection but cracking jokes as well.

“Since when have you become a comedian?”

“Who’s laughing?”

Sakyo tried to keep a straight face but it was so hard when you were giving him that incredulous look, the uncharacteristic smile being hidden behind his hand as he pretended to wipe his mouth. You grabbed his hand with one hand and turned his face towards you with another, not missing the low growl that came from his throat at your show of aggression. With Sakyo there was always a bit of fight but you knew how to get your way more often than not, and tonight would be no different. Getting to see his full beautiful smile, not obstacles in the way, was a moment that should be cherished.

“You’re going to have to tuck me and hold me real tight tonight to chase all my sad thoughts away.” Your noses brushed and Sakyo fought back an eyeroll at your dramatics, “You object to cuddling with me? Aren’t I the sun to your shine? The light of your life? Your very reason to take that first breath in the- “

“Be quiet.” Sakyo cut you off with a chaste kiss to your lips, holding you there for a moment before he pulled away to see your pleased look. He tried to ignore the fact you were clearly leading into him doing that, all too used to him cutting you off by kissing you to shut you up. “Stop pointing out the obvious.”

“Then just agree to give me what I want!”

“… I didn’t tell you to join me.”

“Ugh, does it always have to be so difficult with you?!” Your head flopped back down to his shoulder in defeat and Sakyo smirked, turning back towards the screen. You settled your legs back across your lap as he went to turn on another movie, sighing in defeat at the fact he was making getting him in bed an uphill battle tonight. It wasn’t even that your mind was in the gutter, you simply wanted to be held by the man you held so dear.

“If you can stay quiet through another movie… I can think of a reward for you.”

“Ooh, a gift… Is it change tied to a string? I don’t know what type of gift cheapskates give out~” You teased, ignoring the shiny piece of jewelry around your neck and the heavy ring on your finger.

“You can go to bed alone tonight.”

“And have you sleep on the couch? Your back could never survive.”

The dangerous glint in Sakyo’s eye as he squeezed your thigh told you that you were on the edge of receiving a punishment rather than a present, but with Sakyo, both always turned out in your favor. Your hand rested on top of his, leaning back against the couch and giving him your best ‘love you~’ smile.

You were sure you’d get your way tonight.

Stormy weather was for lovers, after all.

#Sakyo Furuichi #Furuichi Sakyo #A3 #A3!#act! addict! actors!#a3 act addict actors #a3 x reader #furuichi sakyo x reader #sakyo furuichi x reader #a3 imagines #scenario

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clickbait-official · 3 years

Text

mbc

from @artwitch28's headcannons

masterlist

tw: implied/referenced abuse, depressive themes, and transphobia

---

Endeavor was a stuck up little bitch.

Not that a lot of people knew.

Oh well. He’ll get his revenge one day.

Touya sighs, setting his keys on the counter.

“Keigo! I’m home!”

The house was big- airy, if that was a word. Birdboy hated closed spaces. Touya couldn’t blame him, either; he couldn’t stand anything that looked like his “training” room.

There was a thunk upstairs as Keigo ran down to greet him.

“How was work? How was Dad?” He asks.

“Dad”, Atsuhiro Sako, was Touya’s adopted dad. They worked together under their agency, the League of Heroes. The League of Heroes were made up of heroes who were told they were villains, or considered outcasts.

“It was alright, Big sis Magne started asking people if they wanted interns.” Touya responds to his fiance.

Keigo comes up behind him, hugging him and wrapping his wings around Touya.

“Hmmm. Did you look for an intern, dove? You could get your brother~”

“I didn’t think about it, no. But there’s Toga already. Did you?”

Touya can feel Keigo smile into his shoulder.

“There’s one with a bird quirk.”

“Oh, I see.” Touya smirks.

His stomach rumbles as he does.

“Aww, does my little birdie need some food?” Keigo says, a twinkle in his eye. “I’ll go get you some.”

He grabs his hand and leads him to the kitchen.

They look through the fridge, then the freezer.

“Chinken nuggets?” Keigo asks, after a beat of silence.

“You did not just reference that, again.”

And Keigo laughs, loud and clear. Touya thinks it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard.

God, he’s in deep, isn’t he?

They sit together at the counter while they wait for the food to cook. They don’t talk for a bit, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Speaking of Shoto, how’s the family? Rumi’s been talking ‘bout Fuyumi a lot.” Keigo says, taking the pan out of the oven.

“Oh my goodness- remember that crusty kid I was talking to you about? He’s dating Natsuo.” Touya deadpans, and Keigo bursts into giggles.

“God, he could do so much better! And he chose the crustiest kid on this side of Japan!” He rants, Keigo staring from across the table.

“Hana’ll kill you for that.”

Touya sighs again, knowing that he was right. “Yeah, I know. I still don’t know why Natsuo chose her crusty brother, but he’s happy. And it gets him out of the house, too.”

Keigo nods. “Away from Endeavor.”

“Away from Endeavor.”

They sit for a while in silence at that. Touya knows Keigo used to idolize Endeavor, and he knows why.

God, out of all people, couldn’t Keigo have a good childhood?

At least he’s not hurting now.

The sun has fallen, and they’re laying on their bed.

The moonlight filters through the curtains. Keigo’s been asleep for a while now.

The slightest breeze drifts into the room.

If we lived in a harsher world, we’d be so much more cruel.

Oh, what a beautiful night to be alive with you.

---

Touya brings Keigo into the agency. He’d been curious about how it worked- the League was unprecedented.

Touya hoped he’d want to join too. He wouldn’t mind his soon-to-be husband patrolling with him.

Hero work is a dangerous game to play, after all.

The League of Heroes’s building is not very intimidating. It’s survived thunderstorms, 52 mental breakdowns (not by the same person), and now the prank the entire League is in on.

It’s time for the hero charts.

Showtime.

It had taken so much bribing, from the poor intern that worked for one of the higher ups, to one of the higher ups themselves.

Touya could only hope it was worth it.

Oh, it was worth it.

On live television, in front of nearly the entire world, Enji Todoroki, known as Endeavor, had gotten massively pranked.

First, it was the glitter. Then, the water balloons and the rainbow slime. After that, it was the chicken and the three fire extinguishers.

And of course, copious amounts of cheese.

And it was all filmed. It was all broadcasted to a live audience.

Oh- and everyone knew who did it.

But there was no evidence.

God, Touya loved trashing Endeavwhore (and that’s an insult to sex workers).

It was the night after when Twice suggested something Touya had never thought of before.

The night was young, fireflies just beginning to come out. They were on the balcony, drinking and catching up like family would.

“Hey,” He said, “Why don’t you sue him? Get your bro outta that place and over here.”

Twice was a genius.

Twice was a goddamn genius.

Headlines were all over the place. “Endeavor gets sued?” “Enji Todoroki- an abusive piece of shit?” “Endeavor loses custody!”

God, the journalists were having a fucking field day with this. Touya can’t blame them, though.

The day was beautiful. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and little kids were running around outside. Keigo was sitting next to him, listening to his music. Touya finished up some paperwork to finally, finally get his siblings out from under Endeavor.

Thankfully, there was enough evidence to prove he was at least neglectful. People could finally see just how much of an asshole he was, and how high his civilian casualty and endangerment rates are.

There was one teeny, tiny, thing.

The Commission.

The only reason Endeavor was still in the top ten is because of that fucking Commission.

God, he hated the Commission. The things they did to Keigo, the scars that still remain on his psyche.

Fuck the Commission.

It just- It made him so angry. The way Toga and Spinner were treated, how Twice wasn’t able to get help until he became a hero- God, he hated it.

And he didn’t even know how bad it was! He was sheltered from Quirkist attitudes. Well, as sheltered as you can be, living with Endeavor as a dad.

He only knew a little bit of how much they had suffered under this system. He knew there was something more to how Twice always stayed in his hero costume, or how Magne avoided that one part of town. How Toga stared at that one schoolyard for a little too long before walking away.

And he hated it. So, so much.

Fuck the Commission.

---

It’s Touya’s first free day. The hecticness of moving all of his sibling’s stuff into their house was crazy. Who knew that keeping a house was so hard? Not him, that’s who.

So, like any rational person, he goes out to catch up with a close friend.

He had met her during his time at U.A. Her name was Hana Shimura. They bonded through their shitty parents. She was the older sister of the crusty fuck, Tenko.

Why did Natsuo decide to date him? He'll never know.

Somehow or another, the conversation went from how their days went to when Tenko got his quirk.

“Yeah, he decayed the dog! Thankfully he froze up after, so I got Mom. If he didn’t freeze up, I’d be dead.”

The way she had said it- so casually...She probably was terrified at the time.

“There was a UA student that helped him, too. Oboro? I think that was his name...Anyway, Oboro really helped him! He’s kinda a father to him, if I’m being honest.” She went on, telling Touya how proud of Tenko she was.

How he had become a search and rescue hero, which he already knew, and using his quirk he had helped so many people! Because he can decay the debris trapping civilians and rescue them!

They walk down the street, still talking about their siblings and generally how life was going.

They were gonna meet up with Twice. There was a new restaurant that he noticed during his patrols.

Touya heard it was pretty good from Fuyumi and Rumi.

It looked pretty nice, too. He’d walked by it a few times.

“So how is Twice, anyway? I don’t hear much from him these days.” Hana says, pushing open the door to the restaurant.

“Guess you’ll find out, huh?”

Twice is sitting at an empty table in a corner. He was smart enough to change out of his hero costume, just like Touya and Hana.

He lifts his head as they get closer to the table.

“Hey guys! How’ve you been!” He greets them as they sit down.

“Good, good. We were talking about my brother, Tenko.” Hana says. Touya nods in agreement.

“And also how he got to be a hero, too.”

“Did I ever tell ya how I got to be a hero?” Twice asks them, barely containing a smile.

He never told them, well, not Touya.

Turns out, when he was having trouble with his Quirk, one of his doubles went and got a hero license. At the time he was barely of the streets, so he became a hero, joining up with Mr. Compress and Magne to create the League of Heroes.

Because why not? It kept him off the streets and he could help people like him.

A win-win for Twice.

Touya hated how his weird uncle was treated before he became a hero.

Because he was a person, like anyone else. Just a person.

So why was he treated so differently? Why didn’t people help him when he needed it?

God, Touya was so tired.

---

It’s late one night. Touya is alone with his adopted father.

“Dad, why’d you decide to be a hero?” He asks out of the blue.

Atsuhiro’s eyes mist over, and Touya worries for him. Touya’s told him all about the horrific shit he’s gone through, and he can’t help but wonder if he had gone through something horrible too.

Atsuhiro takes out a silver locket, and gently pries it open. He points at the picture inside.

“Look! It’s them…My perfect little family... That’s them! There’s my little girl, and the most beautiful person to ever exist. There they are…”

It’s silent for a moment, the only thing one could hear were the cicadas far away from here.

Touya opens his mouth, “What...What happened to them?”

“A hero. He didn’t care for protocol. He killed- He killed them! And no one believed me…” Atsuhiro trails off, looking down at the floor.

Touya can’t help but feel sorrow, too. He could’ve had a mom, another sister...

He really needs to stop adopting people.

He can’t imagine the pain Mr. Compress must’ve been in. To lose a lover, a child? Oh, it must hurt- so, so much. To lose what was essentially a part of you?

Oh, it hurts to even imagine.

“...They’re really pretty, Dad.”

“They...were both so beautiful in this picture. Toga reminds me of her, y’know? They are both so pretty, so grown-up, and have that same sense of humor…”

Touya’s not sure to who he’s referring to, but nods anyway.

Who’s he to question grieving old men?

“And the days fly by so fast now, I can’t help but feel as though I’m supposed to be insulted by it. But I can’t bring myself to care anymore…It hurts, Touya, it hurts. Sometimes...I can hardly bring myself out of bed...I feel like a ghost…”

It’s silent for a moment, before Touya speaks.

“Dad, I think you need to get help. This isn’t normal. And…I think they’d want you to be happy too, Dad. Don’t you deserve to be happy, too?”

“...I don’t know.”

“You don’t...know?”

“I don’t think I am. But...I want you to be happy. And Tenko, and Hana, and Twice, and Magne...But it’s so tiring, being happy. And I don’t know what to do!”

His sobs seem to echo through the building.

“Come on, Dad. Let’s get you help. You can get some rest.”

He leads Sako back to his house, Atsuhiro being half-asleep by the time they get home.

Mr. Compress takes the spare bedroom, and falls asleep as soon as he hits the pillow. Keigo notices Touya, and walks over to him.

“Heya dove~ How was your day?”

“Worrying. Dad...Dad needs some help. He’s got some shit going on...He’s so tired, Kei. We need to get him therapy or something.”

“Oh, baby…” Keigo whispers, but Touya is too tired to hear.

He falls asleep in his fiance’s arms, safe and sound.

---

The house is abuzz with activity when Touya wakes up. Keigo’s laughter echoes around the place, filling the air with a sense of home.

What a beautiful way to wake up.

Touya gets dressed and walks downstairs. Keigo’s in the kitchen, talking amicably with his sister, Fuyumi. Dad was smiling fondly at the sight, picking at his food. Natsuo was talking on the phone with someone, blushing a little.

Keigo turns towards him, and oh, he was so handsome.

“Good morning, dovely~”

Unbelievable. It was too early for puns.

“Ugh, no. Don’t ever make puns this early. Dad, you doing okay?”

Atsuhiro looks over at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I’m doing just fine, sonny boy~”

“God, it’s too early for this shit. Keigo, get me some coffee, will you?”

“Language!” Fuyumi scolds.

Eventually the coffee is made, and tables cleaned. Breakfast is done.

Keigo helps set up an appointment with Fuyumi. She’s a part time therapist, part time substitute teacher.

Touya takes a deep breath. One day, Dad will be okay. He’ll be alright.

Time for work.

It’s a beautiful, sunny day when Touya goes on patrol again. This time with Magne and the new intern, Toga.

He already knew somewhat what the girls had gone through.

“Good morning, Magne, Toga.” He greeted them.

“Good morning!” Toga says, and then they go off.

Touya’s stuck in his thoughts as they walk to a coffee house while on break. He listens in as he reaches for the door.

“Yeah, my parents threw me out cause they didn’t think I was a girl.”

“My parents threw me out, too! I had to run away, they didn’t like my quirk very much...I got lucky, and Mom became my mom! That’s how I became a hero! How did you, big sis Magne?”

“Mr. Compress saved me from one of those fucking creeps. He let me stay with him for a while, and helped me get back on my feet. I decided to be a hero then, to help people like me.”

They sit down at one of the tables, still talking about their lives. Touya takes a bite of his muffin.

Ah, life was alright, if just for a little while.

--- requests & asks are open! (request em here) ---

@kirililbb

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

Light the Pyres |Light| - SUNGYOON

Don’t know how I'm still alive after posting that last chapter but I appreciate the whole not killing me thing guys

Pairing: Sungyoon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst, bits of fluff, apocalypse!au

Triggers: cursing, death, implied suicide of a side character (no suicidal thoughts), semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 5.7k

As the world burns its last goodbyes, you find a jewel amidst the ashes.

Previous: Strike >> Light >> Next: Rise

Golden Child Masterlist

You wake up to silence.

Blearily, you blink once, trying to clear the inky darkness from your vision. It doesn’t leave – it’s still night.

You blink again, confused. Why are you awake…?

Silence. No second set of breathing, no shuffling in sleep.

Daeyeol?

Your head whips to the side so fast that your neck almost cracks. No one’s in the passenger seat. Where –

Oh.

Right.

You sink back into your seat, pressure beginning to pound behind your eyes again. Right. He’s dead. Even though he was here just hours ago, he’s dead. He’ll never be here again.

Blinking away the tears distracts you from the uneasy silence, but when they’re gone, the quiet settles again. Daeyeol’s absence makes sense. It should explain the lack of sound other than your breath, but…

Oh, fuck.

Fuck.

You whip around. The previous lump of mystery boy that used to be in the backseat is gone.

Oh my God.

Is he stupid?

Digging around your bag produces a flashlight and your gun. There’s only one bullet left – you curse yourself for not reloading earlier – but you grab the bag, shove open the door, and step into the night.

Warm night air curdles against your cheeks. You can already feel sweat beginning to bead on your forehead, sticking your dirty hair to your skin, but you quickly lock the car door and set off down the empty highway.

He can’t have gotten far. Mystery boy’s leg was fractured or something, and even though he was able to walk, you know that the injury means he can’t have gone more than a few miles. It’ll be a pain in the ass, especially since there are at least a few hours before sunrise – more opportunity for zombies to jump out of nowhere when you can’t fucking see, which makes you wonder again just what this mystery boy was thinking when he left – but. Well. You can’t just leave him, can you?

You could, an unhelpful voice in the back of your mind says. You could just ignore him and go on alone.

You stop walking. You could do that, couldn’t you? Wasn’t that what you wanted earlier, anyway? For mystery boy to just be gone?

But Daeyeol would never approve. He’d be upset, angry, disappointed, even, if you didn’t go after him. It’s what he would’ve done.

Even if it came at the cost of his own life.

Fucking Daeyeol. You sigh, stepping forward even as a tiny, tired smile curves your lips and tears burn in your eyes. Still your friend, still someone you look up to, even in the grave.

Besides, this is Daeyeol’s life that mystery boy is living on. The thought twists your stomach, but you keep walking forward. Hell if you’re going to let him waste it with some stupidity like this, even if you hate that the exchange was made in the first place.

Ten minutes pass. You take out a box of (dwindling) ammunition and begin to reload your gun. Twenty. Thirty. The slightest sound makes you flinch, though you don’t dare turn on your flashlight for fear of giving yourself away to predators, zombie or human. Forty. Fifty.

At the hour mark, light glimmers on the horizon, and you’re about to give up. Either mystery boy started out too early or he has some superhuman reservoir of strength that let him outstrip you even on an injured leg.

Or he’s dead.

With that depressing thought, you stop, contemplating turning back. You still have half a country to cross. You’ve walked back at least three miles, which means three miles to make up when you finally get on your way. And if that boy is dead by now –

A darker shadow in the distance catches your eye. It’s upright. Looks like it’s moving forward, away from you.

Maybe not dead, then.

It doesn’t take too long to catch up. Mystery boy hears your footsteps and turns around in evident surprise, eyes widening visibly even against the still-dark sky.

“Idiot,” is the first thing you snap when you finally catch up. He’s stopped walking – thank God – and you motion impatiently for him to sit down. He doesn’t at first, but when you gesture more insistently, he complies with what looks like an expression of almost relief. “What were you thinking, leaving at night?”

He doesn’t answer.

You sigh. “Look, I’m not the smartest person in the world, but even I wouldn’t be caught dead in the middle of an empty highway, walking on a possibly injured leg, essentially acting as a slowly-moving target for any straggling zombie or desperate survivor.”

“You didn’t exactly seem to want me around.”

Not his fault.

Not. His. Fault.

You take a deep breath. “I didn’t,” you say truthfully, praying that a bite doesn’t find its way into your words. “But I’m not heartless.”

A small scoff. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Not.

His.

Fault.

“If I was so heartless, you think I would’ve come after you in the fucking dark?” you snap. “You’re going in the complete opposite direction I was headed in and I still came over here to fucking find you.”

“You didn’t have to,” mystery boy replies, now staring you right in the eyes with a disturbed gaze. You see a lot of emotions swirling around in the dark – confusion, anger, resentment, sadness.

Emotion rises in your own throat and you turn away, teeth gritted. If you look at him any longer, you’re pretty sure you’ll cry, and you really don’t need that. “You’re right.” You shrug, still not meeting his eyes. “But Daeyeol would have hated me if I didn’t.”

It takes a moment to realize you’ve just given him the name of the boy who sacrificed himself for your escape. You curse yourself. How could you have given up his name, Lee Daeyeol, the only thing you have remaining of your best friend besides your memories?

From the slight intake of breath, you gather that mystery boy has made the connection, too. “Was that… was that your friend’s name?”

You swallow hard, pointedly still looking away. No sense in lying. “Yes,” you get out, tears beginning to press behind your eyes. “And you’re living on his life right now, so I’m also not going to let you throw it away so easily.”

“So my life wouldn’t be worth as much if he hadn’t given up his for me?”

“Daeyeol was my friend for over twenty years,” you snarl, turning back to stare him in the eye. “The only person who knows me better than he does – did –” your voice cracks – “was my mom. So you ask me.”

He holds your gaze for half a second before dropping it, the fight draining out of his expression. “Fair enough,” he murmurs, barely loud enough for you to hear. And when his words do finally register, you think you’ve heard him wrong. ‘Fair enough?’ What kind of response is that?

“What?”

Mystery boy doesn’t reply.

After several moments of silence, you break it again. “Okay.” You fix your gaze on mystery boy again, even if he doesn’t look back. “What were you trying to do when you left? Where were you going? As far as I know, the city I found you in had a horde of zombies, and even if Daeyeol cleaned most of them out before – well, you’d have to be pretty much suicidal to go back.”

Silence. Then –

“My sister.” Mystery boy swallows hard. You can’t tell in the darkness even though it’s getting a little lighter, but his eyes look a little shiny. “And her boyfriend.”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

You turn away, trying to disguise your emotions. This is why you can’t deal with people, for fuck’s sake. This is why Daeyeol handled most of the human interaction over the past couple of months. The second you hear a sob story, the second you hear about the people others have lost…

Too late. Your heart aches, even more so because now you understand. Firsthand.

Your voice is barely a whisper. “Are they alive?”

“I don’t know.” He raises his head. “I left to find them.”

Jesus Christ.

Fine. You get it. Half of you wants to go back too, to find Daeyeol and give him a proper burial instead of being left to rot with flies buzzing over his body. But it’s dangerous. Possibly suicide. There were at least several zombies that Daeyeol didn’t manage to pick off before he had to use his last bullet on himself. You have no way of knowing whether or not there are more.

Daeyeol would tell you to keep going, to forget about his body and just focus on staying alive. If you hadn’t walked back several miles already, you might’ve taken that advice. But you did, and he isn’t here to talk sense into you anymore, isn’t here to be selfless.

And you need to do something, anything, for the friend who gave up so much for you.

You stand brusquely, hold out a hand. “Get up.”

Mystery boy’s eyebrows furrow. He doesn’t take it.

You sigh. “You’re trying to find your sister, right? And her boyfriend? Last time you saw them was in the city?”

He nods. “Yeah?”

“I’m coming with you.” Impatient, you reach down and pull him up. “If you collapse on that leg, at least you’ll have someone to carry you elsewhere.”

Mystery boy looks at you with dubious eyes that make your hackles want to rise. “That can’t be the only reason you’re coming.”

“Caught,” you snap, letting go of his hand. “You’re right, I’m not selfless enough for that. I want to bury my friend, even if it means going on a possible suicide mission. Sue me.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, an expression that almost looks like a smile widens his lips. “Doubt there’s a lawyer left in this country to sue you, even if I wanted to.”

He made a joke. He made a joke, and though it wasn’t even that funny, the corners of your lips twitch. “Come on,” you say, starting off so he won’t see it. “Let’s see how much that leg of yours can take before you collapse.”

. . . . .

According to the highway signs, mystery boy makes it another five miles before he needs a break. Though the sun’s gone up and you’re impatient, you give it to him. It’s slightly alarming, really, how far he got with an injured leg, and besides, there are only a couple miles left. In ten minutes, he’s up and you start off again.

Too late and too soon, you arrive at the highway exit that leads to the town where you found mystery boy. The silence between you two grows thicker, heavier with bloody memories as you keep slogging forward, the hot sun beginning to creep up the sky.

“Here,” you finally say, breaking the quiet. You recognize the junction in the streets, the mess of cars and broken glass at the end of this small alleyway between two buildings. “Where did you last see them?”

Mystery boy swallows hard, eyes flicking left and right. “They went into one of the buildings,” he says quietly. “We got attacked and I drew the zombies away so they could…” He trails off.

You really don’t have it in you to imagine what happened. “Which building?”

He points a glass-walled building. Most of the windows seem intact, at least on the first floor. Lettering on the glass spells out CAFETERIA. “I think it was that one.”

Well. At least you might be able to find some food or water. Assuming you don’t get killed.

“Watch my back” is all you say before entering the empty square.

Bodies litter the ground, mostly pale-skinned with tiny pupils and black veins. Dried blood powders the bottom of your shoes as you walk forward, gun at the ready.

You almost step on another gun. A very familiar one. Which means…

Bile rises in your throat as a mop of brown hair enters your periphery. You have to force yourself not to look that way, not to stare at the pool of blood that you know is his, not to follow the red stains until you see the body, the shell of Lee Daeyeol, your best friend basically since birth –

Your head snaps away and you take a deep, shuddering breath. Mystery boy has stopped walking too, staring at the empty bus where he was stranded less than a day ago.

“Come on.” Your whisper is a little harsh, but he jerks his gaze away and nods, following you over blood and glass towards the building.

And immediately you back away as the faint but sickening sound of groans fills your ears.

Behind you, mystery boy looks stricken. You understand. If there are zombies in the building, they could very well have caught his sister and her boyfriend already.

“Your call,” you whisper, back to hiding behind a wall. You can’t see any zombies in the cafeteria area, but the faint sounds indicate they’re deeper in the building. “You still want to find them?”

Dark eyes take in the scene. Mystery boy’s jaw sets. “You don’t have to come.”

He’s right. You don’t have to. You could just drag Daeyeol’s body away and find somewhere to bury it and ignore this boy whose name you still don’t know.

But it’s Daeyeol’s life he’s living on. And what the fuck was the point of Daeyeol dying if mystery boy only lived one more day than he would have?

“I walked ten miles to get here, and you’re living on Daeyeol’s time,” you reply, flicking the safety off your gun. Eighteen bullets. Each one needs to count. “What would be the point if you only managed to live one day extra?”

Something curdles in mystery boy’s gaze, but he nods. “We should see if we can figure out where the zombies are,” he says. “Better if we avoid them. Or are at least ready to face them.”

You can’t argue with that. So you carefully follow him around the building, slowly, quietly. No one pops out, but the groaning grows louder as you approach the left side. “Right,” you mutter, jerking your head in that direction. Wordlessly, mystery boy follows your steps.

A locked door, easily picked, seems to lead underground. The emergency lights are miraculously still on – if there’s a generator and it runs on gas, you might be able to siphon some off and hotwire a car, which you note – but they make an eerie glow against peeling paint as you walk deeper into the building.

Every sound echoes on the walls. You try to muffle your footsteps but the echoes don’t die, only soften slightly and not nearly enough to stop you from wanting to bolt with every sound. Behind you, mystery boy’s breath has grown slightly harsher, more labored. His leg can’t be doing well. If you keep walking down these stairs, it’s only going to get worse.

But this was what he wanted. And from the look in his eyes outside, you’re pretty sure he’d rather die than try to run.

The staircase finally ends, leaving a smooth pathway to walk on. You pause for a moment to see if mystery boy wants a break, but he keeps moving forward, even though he’s almost hugging the walls at this point. You fall behind – you’re in more shape to keep watch than he is, anyway – and then you hear the groans.

Mystery boy stops. You swallow. “Let me in front,” you say, edging forward. “I have the weapon and I’m uninjured. Watch my back.”

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t say you two should just leave like you kind of want him to. So you keep walking through the eerie glow, groans filling your ears as the pathway opens into a large, empty room. Several machines line the walls with various warning signs, cables running over the floor. But that isn’t what catches your attention, what elicits the gasp from mystery boy’s throat.

At the far end of the room, two zombies are tied to a machine, rubber cables around their ankles keeping them from lunging across the floor. One has short white hair, a boy. The other, with long, dark hair, is a girl. They look like they tied themselves standing up, but since then, they’ve fallen to the floor. Snarling mouths and shrunken pupils fixate in your direction.

Mystery boy collapses against the wall. Wide eyes fill with shock, with fear, with loathing and self-hatred and despair as he stares at the groaning girl and boy, gaze unable to leave them.

Sister and boyfriend. You don’t know who turned first, but at least one had enough sense to tie their legs up before they fully transformed. Your chest tightens, bile rising in your throat as they struggle to crawl across the floor, trying to get to flesh, human flesh –

A loud, scraping noise sounds as the machine keeping the boy in place groans, the boy himself trying to scrabble forward on clawing hands. You whip your gun around, training it on his head.

“Don’t shoot.”

It’s barely a whisper, but mystery boy’s voice keeps you from pulling the trigger. You look at him, one eye still focused on the scrabbling zombie. “You want to just leave them?” you ask, unable to keep the incredulity out of your words.

Anger flashes in his eyes as he stands. “You try killing someone close to you,” he snaps. A tear slides down his cheek.

He’s upset. He’s scared. He’s desperate and horrified and probably still can’t process everything right now. That knowledge alone keeps you from screaming about Daeyeol and how he’s dead and how this boy right here killed him with his inability to keep the zombies at bay.

A groaning screech. Both of you jump. The girl’s machine squeals against the wall as she tugs, whitened arms outstretched toward your bodies.

You raise your gun again. “You have one minute to make the call,” you say, words shaking with grief and anger even as you try to steady your voice. “I can leave them here and go. Or I can put them both out of this misery and we can carry their bodies out and we’ll bury them with Daeyeol.” Your finger twitches on the trigger, but you don’t pull. “Unless you have good aim and want to do it yourself, but it’s easier for someone unattached. One minute and I make the decision. You know which one I’ll pick.”

Sixty. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight. Fifty-seven…

Mystery boy doesn’t say a word.

Forty-four, forty-three, forty-two…

You grit your teeth. “Thirty seconds.”

Twenty-two, twenty-one, twenty, nineteen…

“Ten seconds.”

Nine, eight, seven, six…

Cracked, broken words spill from equally broken lips. “Do it.”

You take a breath. Pull the trigger.

Bang. Bang.

The groaning stops, two silent bodies slumped on the floor. You lower the gun, two fewer bullets in the chamber. Blood oozes onto the ground.

You don’t look at mystery boy as you step forward, flicking the safety back on the gun. “Help me carry them out before other zombies find us.”

. . . . .

Blind luck leads you safely out of the building and back into harsh sunshine. Blinking against the bright light, you heave the boyfriend’s deathly white body into the open air. Mystery boy follows behind with his sister.

His sister. You swallow down the bile stinging your throat. If it hurts as much as Daeyeol’s death did…

There’s no tell-tale sound of groaning as you heave the two bodies into the square, careful to keep the mouths turned away from your skin. You look around instinctively, blinking sunspots out of your eyes as you look around for silent zombies, lurkers that might have escaped your ears.

Instead, your gaze lands on Daeyeol, his brown hair, the dried blood pooled around his head. His gun lies next to an outstretched hand. A few bugs buzz around, but he hasn’t been dead quite long enough for them to have fully taken over.

And his eyes are still open.

Oh, hell…

You swallow hard, blinking back tears as your nonexistent breakfast threatens to leave your lips. Don’t lose yourself. Don’t lose your mind.

As if on autopilot, you lay down the boyfriend’s body, enough sense left to use some care. Your feet take you to the dried blood, to the gun on the ground, to Daeyeol’s empty husk of a body, face a bit paler than you remembered, veins darker than you would have liked. Or maybe it’s just in your head – not enough time passed before he shot himself to make even a quarter of the full transition. None of that should be visible.

It’s better. It’s better. It’s better this way, you repeat over and over as you kneel down. At least you died before you turned.

Batting away bugs with one hand, you reach out trembling fingers to rest on his blood-stained hair, carefully avoiding the bullet hole in the side of his head. It’s longer than you remembered. Either he didn’t cut it as short as you originally thought or he’s shrunken in death and it just looks longer.

Death.

Dead.

He’s dead.

He’ll never wake up again.

Your fingers tighten in his hair even as the reminder of death flips your stomach. You card through the brown mop once, twice, trying to mimic the way you used to when he sometimes got sick as a kid and you would keep him company. Your hands move in practiced motions, slowly, smoothly, but it feels unnatural even though your muscles remember how to move. Maybe because Daeyeol’s scalp isn’t warm beneath your fingers, maybe because he doesn’t shift and sigh in relaxation and tell you he feels better already.

Tears burn in your eyes. Too bad you couldn’t have done it in his last moments. Couldn’t have given him the slightest bit of comfort after he had to turn the gun on himself for your stupid safety.

I’m sorry.

One tear escapes and rolls down your face. A lump rises in your throat and you swallow painfully hard, blinking fast to release the tears and calm yourself. Your fingers shake uncontrollably as you drop them from his hair, tracing down Daeyeol’s cold skin to slide his eyelids shut, one after another. You shiver when you let go. The sun lends a bit of warmth to his face, but it can’t fully chase away the chill of death.

You close your eyes. Take a breath. Hair flecked with blood and bits of brain stains the backs of your eyelids.

It’s okay.

You’re okay.

But Daeyeol isn’t.

Shoving away that traitorous thought, you stand unsteadily and turn back to mystery boy, who looks about as good as you feel. He doesn’t stare back, only keeps his eyes fixed on the two bodies laid out in front of him, face ashen and tears running down his skin. At some point during your little grieving session, he also knelt down beside the bodies, brushed their hair out of their faces and closed their staring eyes. You almost say something about getting up and moving on, but his expression and the tears racing down his face silence your voice.

You just shot his sister and her boyfriend, two people he clearly held dear. Even if they were essentially dead anyway, it wouldn’t – still won’t – be easy for him.

And you were kind of callous about it, too. One minute to make a decision, one minute before you made it yourself, one minute to decide whether or not to kill his zombified sister and her boyfriend…

Your eyes lower as shame burns in your chest. You go to turn away but Daeyeol’s body is right there and you have to turn back but then mystery boy is on the other side –

With a shuddering sigh, you sink into a crouch, hands over your eyes. You don’t speak, even though you can now feel mystery boy’s gaze on you, sharp, probing, probably hateful and angry and for good reason. You don’t look back. He’ll turn away soon enough, to go back and grieve for the people you forced him to let you kill.

The least you can do is give him some time for that.

. . . . .

A small, abandoned house in the town provides welcome shelter after burying the bodies in sweltering heat. Not even a few bloodstains on the floor and door deter you. Your hands are still caked with dirt and runny blisters from digging in the only soft ground you could find, an overgrown green park, but you don’t have enough water to justify washing them off. Instead, you find a towel hanging in the bathroom and pat most of the dirt clean. The white cloth comes away streaked brown and red.

In the empty living room, mystery boy lies on the couch, injured leg outstretched over the cushions. His gaze is blank, unseeing until you extend your half-empty bottle of water in his direction. Wordlessly, he grasps it. Takes a few swallows. Hands it back.

Two gulps of water soothe the sandpaper feeling in your throat while half a granola bar stops the grumbling in your stomach. You put the other half on the coffee table next to him and leave the room to look for anything useful. When you return, a box of band-aids in one hand and several towels hung over your arm, it’s gone.

You go back to work on your hands. Silence stretches. When you finish, you turn to him. He doesn’t look back for a good few minutes, but when he realizes you’re looking at him, he meets your gaze with blank eyes.

You motion to his palms, hold up the box of band-aids. Words would explain your purpose more comprehensively, but they stick in your throat. It doesn’t feel right, speaking.

His eyebrows relax and slowly, he reaches out his hands. You clean them probably with more care than you gave your own, even pouring out a tiny capful of water to soothe some of the larger blisters. The Hello Kitty band-aids you found in the bathroom cabinet look comical against his skin and yours, but nothing really makes you feel like laughing. Not now.

Silence stretches into the afternoon and then into evening. Taking advantage of what natural light you have, you walk around the house some more. Several clean sheets makes their way into your bag along with the box of band-aids. A few bottles of water are still in the kitchen, as is a box of stale crackers. You debate whether or not to open those – you need food, but crackers are dehydrating, and you can’t tell if they’ve gone bad – before stuffing them in your bag anyway.

At some point, you hear muffled crying behind the walls. You crouch down, hold your hands over your ears – you can’t leave the kitchen until it stops but it doesn’t stop, just keeps going on and on and on and you want to scream, it hurts, it hurts –

The sobs finally stop. It takes at least five minutes for you to stand up on shaking legs and another five for you to work up the courage to walk back into the living room.

Mystery boy hasn’t moved an inch since you fixed up his hands. He shifts when you come back in, though, bag on your arm. His eyebrow raises over reddened eyes. “You’re not going to be an idiot, are you?”

It takes several seconds to register the insult, you’re so surprised he even spoke. “Sorry?”

“You called me an idiot for walking out in the dark.” He shifts again, pulling himself into more of a sitting position against the armrest. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to do the same.”

Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Uh.” You look at the bag, the weight hanging heavy off your arm. “No. I was… I was just seeing if I could find anything.”

Something relaxes in his expression. It makes you frown. “Are you planning to leave?” you ask. The weight of your bag feels even heavier as you shift from leg to leg, waiting for a reply. “In the morning, I mean.”

Silence. Then –

“I don’t have anywhere to go.”

His words are soft. Airy. Sad, desolate, but more like a sudden thought than the dark realization they really are.

You flinch anyway. Even if he doesn’t purposely hide knives or needles in his words, you can feel the unconscious ones nonetheless.

You’re the person who killed his last family. You’re the one who left him alone.

You’re the one who caused this.

“Oh,” you say lamely. Your bag slides down your arm, almost dropping to the floor before you catch it tight in one hand. The strap digs into your skin, stinging the cuts beneath pink Hello Kitty band-aids.

He looks at you. “Where are you planning to go?”

You swallow. It feels like a slap in his face to even say it, to show the thread of hope that you have but that he doesn’t. “Home,” you get out. “My mother.”

Another eyebrow raises to meet the first, though he turns away before you can see the resulting expression on his face. “She’s still alive?”

That makes you flinch again, though this time it’s at the possibility that she isn’t alive, that you’ve gone all this way and lost Daeyeol for nothing. “I don’t know,” you reply, voice barely a whisper. “But… before everything…” You swallow. “I told her to wait. And that I’d come and find her.”

“Must be nice, having a purpose in life.”

You brace yourself, waiting for the words to hit and cut through flesh and stab your chest. But to your surprise, they don’t.

There’s no resentment in his tone. Muted anger, yes, and grief. But his hunched figure speaks of no blame, no bitterness – at least none for you, not yet. You remain silent for a moment, trying to understand.

The words slip out before you realize you were even thinking them in the first place.

“You can come with me.”

Mystery boy freezes in his position. You can see his muscles tighten, feel the tension radiating from his prone figure on the couch.

You panic.

“I – I mean –” you swallow, trying to explain – “if you want to. And you probably don’t, because of what I did. It won’t mean much, but I’m really sorry. I was rude and callous and I should have realized how hard something like… something like that would be…” You trail off. “But, just… if you want to, you can.”

He stays still. Then the cushions shift as he turns to face you, eyes piercing into yours. Even though you’re the one standing and he’s the one sitting with an injured leg, you feel like you’re the one trapped here. Less power. Less control.

“Why?” he asks, voice suddenly sharp. You flinch. “Isn’t it hard enough just being here, knowing your friend died trying to save me?”

Why, indeed. You have no idea. The words just spilled from your tongue without thought – you didn’t even realize you were thinking them before you spoke. They don’t make sense, like he said. You were at his throat just a day ago. Less than that.

But still, you meant it. You didn’t just say your words as an empty invitation. You meant it.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you whisper. The words sting in your throat but they’re the truth. They’re the truth. “It’s not your fault Daeyeol… not your fault Daeyeol died for you.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

The monster of anger and grief tries to rear its head in your chest, but you’re too tired to give it reign. “It’s true,” you say, staring at the floor. “Even if I still need to convince myself, it’s true.”

Mystery boy opens his mouth again. This time, his words sting less, but they still seem to deepen the cuts on your palms. “Wouldn’t I just be a burden on you with my leg? Especially if you’re trying to get across the country as fast as you can?”

You shift, right leg to left. “It’s what Daeyeol would have offered,” you murmur, voice barely audible. “He would have thought it was the right thing to do.”

It’s true. And as much as you’d like to say otherwise, you think it’s the right thing too. But that isn’t the only reason.

The other reason?

You’re afraid. Afraid of traveling alone. Terrified, even. The mere thought makes you want to hurl on the floor. Setting out with no one to keep quiet company, no one to watch your back, no one to just be there, even silent, no one to keep you from going insane with the thoughts that spin relentlessly in your mind…

Mystery boy’s voice breaks into your spiral. “Is that what you think is the right thing to do?”

Your gaze returns to his, sharp, unyielding. And you nod. “Yes,” you say, because that much is true. You don’t even need to convince yourself of it. “I do.”

Something breaks in his eyes, but not in a shattered glass type of way. It’s more like the snapping of tension, a fear or worry finally dashed away, replaced with relief. He doesn’t smile, not quite, but the room feels a little more comfortable. “Okay.”

You blink. “So… yes?”

He nods.

A little burst of warmth fills your chest, subtle relief pulsing through your body. Like mystery boy, you don’t put on a smile, but if you wanted to, you probably could. “I’m Y/N,” you say quickly, ducking your head. He’ll probably want some peace, but your name is the least you could give him before you start off together to the other side of the country. And if he needs something in the middle of the night, he’ll know what name to call.

You don’t expect him to reply. But as you begin to leave the living room to find another place to sleep, you hear him speak.

“I’m Sungyoon.”

A pause. Then, softer –

“And thank you.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for this budding relationship bc god they’re going to need it)

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