#I loved this scenario it is now living rent free in my head thank you nonny 💓

[thisismeracing]

stoppppp i love bono!reader and mick so much!!

Mick is done with all of his debriefs and strategy meetings and he's looking for bono!reader so they can leave the track for the day. She's the lead aerodynamicist and the team is still trying to optimize the car for the weekend so she is working with all of the engineers to figure out a few more things for quali.

Mick is trying to find her and goes to her office to tell her he's ready to leave. "BB, let's go. Dinner's waiting!" he calls as he comes around the corner - expecting her to be alone. (She’s usually the last one still working and he often finds her pouring over data. It’s not uncommon for him to have to drag her away from the computer at the end of the day.) Everyone on the team already knows about them and looks after them like they're their own kids, but he still can't hide his embarrassment as 8 people turn around and look at him.

Mick knows bono!reader is the smartest woman he's ever met and he adores her, so even though he's tired and hungry and really doesn't want to think about aero performance anymore for the day, he pulls up a chair behind her and joins the meeting as she starts up again. “As I was saying," she continues, pointing to the charts and data on the screen. He can't help but sit there and stare as she walks through the different car setups they tried during practice.

He knows how hard she works and how much the whole team respects her, but to truly see her work is something else. He's so proud of her. Everyone gives him a hard time for voluntarily going to more aero meetings now, but what can he do? He loves spending time with her and watching her work, and it’s made him smarter as a driver and helped improve the car, so really win-win-win. It also doesn’t hurt that he has someone who will always advocate for what he wants on the car (and she’ll tell him when his ideas are wrong, too.) 

When they're finally done and grabbing their stuff to leave, one of the engineers stops mick and says, “don’t worry, we all adore her too.” (Maybe his puppy dog eyes and helpless grin were more noticeable than he thought) (the whole team still sees her as their daughter and are endlessly amazed and proud of the work she does and the leader she’s become within the team.) He just blushes and pulls on his coat as he follows bono!reader out into the paddock. It's dark out now and the little bits of light play in her hair as she walks toward the exit.

omg akckskkckwkdks YES!!!!!!! The way this man would BLUSH when he sees she’s not alone lol I can see him bringing her snacks and food when shes too busy too, just knocking on her door and dropping the lunch bag giving her a pointed look, somedays she’ll stop him for a quick kiss then go back to her lunch and datas, somedays he’ll just drop the bag with a post it telling her to eat everything and that he loves her 😭😭😭😭😭 he’ll def bring candy/pastry to the whole team when he’s bringing some to her and thats yet another reason why the whole sim team just consider them the best couple

[pillow-princess-diaries]

𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝙲𝚑𝚞𝚞𝚢𝚊! 𝚇 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Summary: your boyfriend has a dark secret; and now the cat’s out if the bag.

Pairing: Serial-Killer-Chuuya! X Fem!reader

Tw: murder?? Kinda graphic gore i think? Blood, cunnilingus, safe sex, use of a ribbed condom,dirty talk (psycho is used) after care! (Pls lmk if i missed anything!)

W/C: 1.3k

A/N: Hi There!! Here’s a little chuuya piece because this man lives in my head rent-fuxking-free! Thank you to @chuuyassluttychoker @falloutjuli and @sapphic-serenade for feedback🥰 ilyall frr

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DON'T FOLLOW, YOU'LL BE BLOCKED!

Serial killer chuuya! Who was fully in love with you the moment he saw you

Serial killer chuuya! Who carves out love notes to you across the flesh of his victims

Serial killer chuuya! Who lives out his darkest fantasies with his victims,who imagines you watching as he kills the people who so much as inconvenience you

Serial killer chuuya! Who loves the feeling of holding a life in the palm of his hands and snuffing it out just as easily,but could never even fathom hurting you.

Serial killer chuuya! Who wants you by his side as he kills,he’ll teach u to hold a knife and shoot a gun,he just wants you by his side when he’s at his highest.

Serial killer chuuya! Who treats you like you’re an angel and practically worships the ground you walk on,who’s so devoted to you that if you asked him to kill himself,he would.

Serial killer chuuya! Who tries to keep his clothes clean,to ease your conscience and not raise suspicion. He loves you and would never want you to worry or stress. Perfection is what you deserve, and so a perfect boyfriend is what he’ll be!

Serial killer chuuya! Who goes absolute apeshit on the man who harassed you when you were out with your girlfriends. That bastard thinks he can mess with his doll????? His princess??? Not while he has any say in it!

Serial killer chuuya! Who slowly disects the man antemortem so he feels every second of it,images of your tortured and broken body and blood curdling screams for help driving his anger,ofc none of that happened,but he’s such an over-thinker when it comes to you that the worst case scenarios cross his mind.

Serial killer chuuya! Who enters a sort of trance as he literally rips the man to shreds,he isnt in the alleyway anymore,he’s in a dark room and your beaten and dead body is beside him.your screams for help,for him, playing in his mind like a broken record. How could he let this happen?

Serial killer chuuya! Who cuts the mans chest open and gently pulls at his heart. Who makes sure his victim is still just conscience enough to feel it before he rips the bastard’s heart from his chest,crushing it in his palm and getting blood everywhere.

Serial killer chuuya! Who looks over at your dead body and rushes to you,the blood of your killer now staining your face as he holds you,cradling you in his arms.

Serial killer chuuya! Who lets out the most blood curdling scream of sorrow,melancholy and grief ever heard to mankind,who rocks back and forth and hold you close,his angel now gone back to her kind.

Serial killer chuuya! Who’s broken out of his trance when he feels a hand on his cheek and hears a voice in his ear.

Serial killer chuuya! Who looks up to see you,alive.He’s not in the dark room and you’re not dead.

Serial killer chuuya! Who notices the look of concern in your eyes and then remembers what he was doing,who instantly goes into a panic and starts making excuses just to be silenced by your, “chuu,are you okay?”

Serial killer chuuya! who stands up and pulls you into a kiss,which you eagerly return. Who finally gathers his bearings before saying, “i-i- can explain.”

Serial killer chuuya! Who is caught off guard when you hold his cheek and tell him it’s okay,That you’ve known for a while and dont mind.

Serial killer chuuya!who asks you how you could love a ‘monster’ like him,and almosts melts when you reply, “well,every beast needs his beauty”

Serial killer chuuya! Who picks you up and practically flies you to your shared apartment before entering via the window and then promptly throwing you onto the plush mattress.

Serial killer chuuya! Who answers your puzzles look with a simple “gotta treat my girl for bein’ so good to me,tonight it’s you I’m making scream, angel”

Serial killer chuuya! Who quickly discards his clothes before climbing onto the bed,still covered in blood,ready to fuck you senseless;who looks up at you from his place between your legs for permission,he’d never do anything you didnt want him to!

Serial killer chuuya! Who,the moment he registers your little nod,dives into your pussy,laughing as he notices just how wet you’d become.

Serial killer chuuya! who says,nose against your folds, “looks like my angel’s just as fucked up as me~ did seeing me murdering that bastard turn you on you fuckin psycho”

Serial killer chuuya! Who doesn’t wait for you to answer before he dives back in,his tongue snaking up your wet pussy,lapping up your juices and sucking on your clit,abusing the little nub with how hard he’s going

Serial killer chuuya! who makes you cum just with that,and taking all your slick in without hesitation,when he looks up at you, your release is dribbling down his chin and the lower half of his face is a mess! But you’d be damned if the sight didnt make you moan.

Serial killer chuuya! Who climbs up on top of you,his bloody fingers lifting your clothes up off your body before he feels you up,cupping your tits and gettin blood all over you.

Serial killer chuuya! Who looks down at his leaky shaft and smirks as he rubs his tip along your folds,teasing you,until you BEG

Serial killer chuuya! Who lets you beg for a second before thrusting into your wet hole,who relishes in the feeling of you squeezing his cock and hearing Your sweet whines and moans as he goes deeper and deeper till he’s balls deep,buried to the hilt.

Serial killer chuuya! Who locks you in a mating press,watching as your eyes screw shut,as you moan his name and as your tits bounce with the force of his thrusts.

Serial killer chuuya! Who pulls out just to rut right back into you and pulls out momentarily again to put on a ribbed condom. He isn’t gonna be irresponsible just because he’s horny!

Serial killer chuuya! Who slowly inserts himself back in before fucking you senseless, the speed of his thrusts,combined with the texture of the condom and his expert directing of said thrusts,making you see stars and taking away your ability to speak.

Serial killer chuuya! Who makes you cum a minimum of 4 times before even considering stopping, he’s cum just as much and while you’d love to feel his hot,sticky release coating your walls,he cant risk you getting pregnant, not when he is the way he is.

Serial killer chuuya! Who finally pulls out for the last time and discards the condom before picking you up,bridal style and carrying you to your bathtub,running a bath for you with all your favorite bath-bombs,aroma oils and soaps.

Serial killer chuuya! who washes both you and himseld clean,the water turning a rusty red as you’re both cleansed of the evidence of his crimes.

Serial killer chuuya! who gently dries your hair and body before doing his own and giving you your favorite t-shirt of his.He get’s into his shorts and sleep shirt, changing the sheets to some fresh new ones before laying you down and climbing in beside you,spooning you and snuggling close.

Serial killer chuuya! Who buries his face in the crook of your neck,leaving little butterfly kisses and whispering how you’re too good for him and how he’ll never EVER let anyone hurt you.

Serial killer chuuya! Who can kill like it’s his passion and torture like it’s a game,but who could never hurt you even if he tried and who’d sell his soul to see you happy.

Serial killer chuuya! Who love’s you like a song,keeps you like an oath and is the beast to your beauty.

And finally, serial killer chuuya! Who hopes that just like in the story,you’ll be the one to break his curse, and free him of his sins.

Tag List: @sapphic-serenade @diagonal-queen

All rights reserved © 2023 pillow-princess-diaries. Please do not repost, modify or claim as yours.

[iamnmbr3]

Canonically how do you think postwar drarry's romance and dynamics would be?how much things change btwn them?they become cute and fluffy or they keep fighting? how they behave together and how they start meeting when there's no reason for them to meet, chain of new events or accidentally?(do not write fanfic or anything but simply your assumption of absolute canon drarry)

As usual you come into my inbox with yet another delightful and interesting question. I tend to think if Harry and Draco actually got together postwar their relationship would be pretty good. (Of course everyone is free to write/headcanon whatever they want and you can make pretty much any type of AU scenario work if you tweak the circumstances just right). I love a good toxic, twisted dark 'enemies to enemies who are also lovers' twisted romance but that just isn't drarry in canon.

Both characters tend to shy away from true cruelty - despite being placed in some very trying circumstances that encourage the opposite from them - and even when they are enemies on opposite sides of the war they can't seem to bring themselves to hate or hurt each other. I think they are genuinely extremely compatible - emotionally and intellectually as well as in terms of having some pretty important life experiences in common despite their radically different upbringings. They also have complimentary interests, senses of humor, personalities and magic (ding ding ding wand compatibility!). Not to mention they've both been fascinated by each other since day one.

So all that is to say, when they finally get together (which definitely takes some work given they were on opposite sides of the war and enemies before that and all that happened between them wouldn't just vanish overnight) it works surprisingly well. I think they might banter/bicker playfully because they both enjoy each other's wit but they wouldn't actually truly argue or fight. They did enough of that. But I do see them having a much softer, gentler version of their original dynamic. I think they enjoy each other's sass (now with proper boundaries so no one is actually getting upset).

As for how they meet again. Let's be real. This is drarry. They always, always find each other. These 2 cannot stay away from each other. Harry definitely testifies for Draco so he doesn't go to jail. And Draco probably contacts him at some point to thank him. Maybe they start writing letters back and fourth. Or if they go to 8th year together they are immediately pulled back into each other's orbit the same as they always were - except now Draco's trying to make amends and Harry can't stop watching him (maybe at first he thinks he's up to something or maybe not) and is strangely insistent on helping him. Or maybe they meet later, out in the working world. They both have lived rent free in each other's heads since the age of 11. After the war neither would forget the other. They find each other.

Awkward conversations and apologies and possibly some left over hostility (because let's be real - Draco tends to lash out when he's feeling vulnerable and Harry tends to meet fire with fire) turn into easier conversations and a growing sense of that nameless thing that always lay between them that neither has ever acknowledged and realization that what they miss most about Quidditch is playing against each other (and a Seekers game that turns into friendly bickering) and a growing appreciation for each other and increasing sharing of confidences (because so few others really understand what facing Voldemort was like - how he moved, how he reacted, how he killed) and somehow it doesn't feel as vulnerable or isolating talking about it with someone else who just understands and isn't going to act like a shocked and pitying outsider. Not to mention that they both have to come to terms with how fit each thinks the other is. And well. One thing leads to another. The path doesn't run smooth. Harry worries what his friends will think and Draco worries about it even more. But in the end things are alright and they are happy.

[sun-stricken]

Hello. I absolutely love your Fairy Tail head-canons, especially about demon slayer Gray. Feel free to take or leave these little ideas. Always love when you post <3

~

Imagine Team Natsu has to rent a vehicle or something and they require actual legal paperwork like a birth certificate and address or something like that (more than just “guild business! Gonna need this!”). Lucy doesn’t want to rent it because there is no way she’s going to be responsible for the inevitable damage. Erza, being the leader and a good friend volunteers. A few minutes later she comes back out, puzzled.

Erza: “why would they need a birth certificate? Shouldn’t me being present be proof enough of my existence?”

Gray starts snickering in the background. Natsu goes in next but comes out even earlier than Erza, cause at least Erza had a probably legal address at Fairy Hills, Natsu on the other hand lives in a house in the woods.

By the time Wendy goes in the receptionist is exasperated. “Yes I understand you are with Fairy Tail but that isn’t until page three of the paper work. None of you have made it past the first page.”

Gray finds this all very amusing.

Lucy: “Since you find it so amusing why don’t you go register, Gray!?”

Gray: mutters something

Natsu: “What do you mean you’re legally dead?!”

Cause you know, Ur just found a kid (the only survivor) and just decided to keep him. Oh, no official rescue crews didn’t show up until two days later? My kid now :)

The search and rescue teams never found any survivors in Gray’s old town so everyone was pronounced dead. The magic council or whoever is in charge of that stuff is also disorganized enough that no one realized that Gray Fullbuster is both a famous wizard and supposedly dead. So, just, Gray technically being considered legally dead the entire time he was at Fairy Tail.

~

Also, the slayers all going out on a job together(the dragon slayers had to drag Gray). The job turns out to be a trap (surprise!) and the floor just opens up revealing a giant vehicle.

Dark mage: “Ha-ha! I have bested the dragon slayer! The most powerful mages-“spots Gray just chilling, perfectly fine and not motion sick. “what are you doing?” Cause the guy was planning to capture dragon slayer, not whatever a demon slayer was (the dark mage didn’t even know demon slayers were a thing). Gray defeats the dark mage but holds it over Natsu’s head for a week.

After that anytime a large group of dragon slayers takes a job together they take Gray along for “extra security during transportation” or just extra security in general.

I also head-canon that each type of slayer magic has its own unique weakness. Dragon slayers get severely motion sick. God slayers are claustrophobic. Demon slayers cannot handle sweets. If Gray gets even a whiff of cake or any other dessert his gag reflex acts up and he gets really nauseous and other stuff like that. He of course hid it at first (he was afraid Erza would disown him) but eventually everyone learned about the weakness of demon slayers. Natsu teases him about it but never pushes it too far to the point of accidentally making Gray really sick.

Anyways, sorry for the long ask. Feel free to expand on anything. Always love some good slayer bonding head-canons and just Fairy Tail head-canons in general. <3

This was so much fun to make tbh so domt apologize, i love long asks <3 and thank for for what you said ant my posts! theyre fun to make so im glad ppl enjoy them

Oh, you have no idea how often ive though about Gray being legally dead, my personal favorite scenario is him trying to fix it and prove himself alive but cant

“How the fuck would i know my social security number??? i was eight years old! i had no reason to know!!!”

There was no dna or finger-print records of him or his family so he couldn’t prove it that way either. Apparently, declaring someone born or dead is easier than someone ‘resurrected’. To the law Gray of Isvan is dead and although Gray of Fiore bares similarities, they are two different people.

But ALSO to the law Gray of Fiore doesnt exist bc he has no birth certificate. And while hes adamant, he has no real proof beyond his word he is Gray Fullbuster of Isvan.

So basically, According to the law, Both Gray Fullbuster of Isvan and Fiore are dead and never existed, respectively.

tbh this sounds like an identity crisis waiting to happen, but what else is new with him

Erza probably tried to fix it after she was told bc she legally didnt exist for a minute either (never was filed as a real person, she was able to file for a late birth certificate on account that she wasnt claiming to be a ‘separate’ person and also Makarov did it for her) (dont ask why he didnt for Gray, i like plot holes). But quickly realized their situations were very different, him waiting over a decade to check in as a survivor with the proper authorities definitely weakened his case considering he was running around free before he decided he needed a birth certificate.

But hey, as long as he doesn’t need to rent something, or get a license or id, or work somewhere beyond Fairy Tail, or get married, or, god forbid, die again, he should be fine!

i wonder if he would be considered a ‘john doe’ if he actually died again since they have ‘no’ birth records

This also makes games like ‘two truths and a lie’ amazing

“alright so, im legally dead, i legally dont exist, and ive never physically died before” “Gray what the hell do you mean” “Guess the right one and ill tell you” “WHAT THE HELL DOES THIS MEAN THOUGH??”

i love everything to do with the ‘dragon slayers + gray’ dynamic

‘Extra security’ just turns into Gray babysitting a bunch of rambunctious dragons for hours. seriously, get this guy a reward for how he hasnt killed or maimed any of them yet.

Imagine them trying to convince Gray to walk to their destination instead of taking the train

“Its not that far!!” “its fucking 5 hours by train, How long do you think itll take to walk? Why would even you pick this job if you knew how long the ride would be??” … “nobody looked..” “are you actually serious.” … “oh my fucking god”

and thats the story of how one Demon slayer ended up having to babysit 4 very pitiful looking Fairy Tail Dragon slayers on a train. Dude had to drag them off it once it stopped too.

His side career of ‘Dragon Slayer Babysitter’ only gets harder when they realize holy shit! cold compresses can help nausea! and what do they have? a walking cold compress.

Taking a train trip with them just means second hand nausea AND embarrassment, and absolutely no personal space. A dream come true.

At least he gets to hold it over their heads

Tbh i like the irony of Dragon Slayers being motion sick because, yk, dragons can fly, so my hc for side effects for God Slayers and Demon Slayers were along the same lines

God Slayers being wide open space or flying since Gods are like the epitome of freedom? all knowing and have complete reign over everything, But claustrophobia works so much better for that same reason. It would cause extreme panic and rash decisions

And Demon Slayers was the dark because demons are supposed to be these evil creatures who thrive in the dark n stuff? basically it would send a Demon Slayer into a paranoid spiral.

But sweets being a weakness instead is such a silly thing that im gonna take it and run

Gray never cared for sweets in the first place, gave him a stomachache, but now he has to walk away from Erza mid conversation if she decides to indulge, which is almost everyday. She was absolutely heartbroken and devastated when the weakness was revealed, it was such a dramatic reaction one wouod think she was the one with the new weakness

When Gray pokes fun at Natsus motion sickness he’ll go on about how Gray is gonna have the lamest parties since he cant handle even the smell of sweets, especially cake.

A terrible realization for everyone involved with him, on par with when Gray realized he wouldnt be able to have ice cream comfortably again, thats like a staple for ice mages

heart wrenching, truly

[emkaii]

in a random thought (more like this plot bunny has been living in my head rent free since this "what if" fic started and now i cant stop myself from sharing it after so many months? years? idek)

thank you to @feynites for the wonderful fic above that i continue to go back re-reading again and again

(also tagging @wangxianficrecs even though im not sure they share scum villain fics *sobs*)

! tw: death !

WHAT IF SCENARIO

og!sj dies the night of yqy & lqg wedding because of heartbreak? (because real heartbreak can literally kill in this fanfic universe) just, like, he dies. that's it. no shen yuan to transmigrate in his body as replacement.

so, og!sj was in seclusion punishment during that night right? and he was only allowed outside to attend the wedding itself. (am i right? or if not, meh)

so shen jiu dies in his bedroom, alone. lbh tries to enter his room to help him prepare for the wedding but doesn't get an answer (bc og!sj is ded), so lbh leaves bc he's obviously afraid of entering the room without og!sj's permission in fear of punishment.

the wedding is completed without sj arriving and everyone just assumes that he's bitter about the whole thing and doesn't attend as a show of rebellion.

also, since he's in secluded punishment and the servants doesn't like him, no one approaches or even tries to enter his room. lbh tries to tell the upper servants that it has been almost a full night & day that og!sj hasn't responded to anything outside his room, but of course, they don't listen to him.

so, he tries to directly report to yqy. who at this point is feeling disappointed? relieved? (even he himself doesn't know) that sj did not cause any problems to his new wedding. so, he goes to check on sj.

he tries to ask permission to enter the room, no answer.

tries to lengthen sj's punishment if he continues to be stubborn, no answer.

tries to threaten that he will break the door, no answer.

yqy gets nervous. something doesn't feel right.

sj is not the type to stay quiet.

he forcefully opens the door.

and he finds sj looking peacefully asleep.

but there's something wrong in the picture. sj was too quiet. too still.

yqy realizes that he can't hear sj breathing. he can't see any movement. at all.

he flies to sj's bedside.

tries to take his wrist to check his condition, and whole body-flinches at the cold skin. sj's body was stiff. and as a highly accomplished cultivator, yqy knows the state of a dead body more than a few hours after death.

he whispers, "a-jiu?"

sj' body would look peaceful in death, if not for the dried tear tracks in his face.

(I don't know how to describe/write it but i want yqy's reaction to be utter devastation, something similar or worse than his reaction in this fanfic's og novel when sj died in the original timeline)

minutes or hours later (yqy doesn't know, doesn't know or aware of his surroundings anymore), after mqf arrives and checks the situation after a frantic lbh tells lqg about sj and lqg flies to have mqf at their estate, mqf states:

"his body showed signs of grief sickness. in this case, his lungs decided to stop taking in air, his mind decided to stop all functions of his body, and his heart just decided to stop beating. i can say that it occurred around 24 hours ago."

24 hours ago.

24 hours ago was when sj tried to convince yqy not to proceed with the wedding for his new husband.

24 hours ago was when sj tried to tell yqy that he'd rather die than let yqy have a second husband.

yqy ignored him.

and now a-jiu is dead.

"A-Jiu couldn’t survive his husband marrying another man. That person died the day Yue Qingyuan married Liu Qingge"

AND THIS IS THE LINE FROM THE ORIGINAL FIC THAT INSPIRED THIS PLOT BUNNY.

i really do sometimes love making myself cry with my thoughts and ideas. now im sharing these to the world. and now i want to re-read, for the 8th? 9th? time, this whole wonderful series.

[defiledheartsblog]

just wanted to drop by and say that i love this story so much <3 and that the fluffy marcus smut lives in my head rent free now (soft marcus has a grip on my soul and i fear i will never be free)

Thank you so much for your kind words!

That smut is one of my favorites too, and it would be nice to write a similar smut scenario (that takes place further in the future) for every RO. We'll see if they win the polls 🩶

[crystallizsch]

Hello Ian! ♡

Here's a Jamiyuu fic for you! I apologize if it's not the best, I wrote it in like ten minutes since I'm currently at work lol

(Also I apologize if the formatting ends up messed up, as I'm sending this using Tumblr mobile!)

I hope you enjoy! ♡

The fireworks lit up the sky as everyone stood there watching. It was a gorgeous sight, laughter filling the air as color burst into the night. Jamil turns to Yuusha, the smile on his face falling as he froze. Her face was as bright as the fireworks, eyes shining as she looked towards the sky. She held Grim in her arms, the cat shaped monster watching the scene in awe.

Yuusha turned to Jamil after a moment, feeling his gaze. One of her brow's rose as she looked at his face, amused, "What?"

Jamil stood there, his gaze never wavering as a small smile comes to his face.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Yuusha looks back towards the sky as another firework bursts into the night.

"It really is"

Jamil's eyes remain glued to Yuusha for a moment before he turns back to the sky, standing a little bit closer.

You really are beautiful, Jamil thinks, Najma watching them a few feet away.

She couldn't resist getting a bit closer, waiting until she was right next to him before nudging him in his side, giving him a knowing look.

He does his best to ignore her, nudging her back as she laughs, his face heating up.

Maybe next time, he'll tell Yuusha what he thinks. For now though, he'll just stand there and watch ♡

Thank you! ♡

HREHDBBDJSFJ I AM CRYING GIGGLING KICKING MY FEET IN THE AIR

THE PINING THE SOFT DIALOGUE

I AM NOT OKAY

AND NAJMA PLS - KNOCK SOME SENSE INTO YOUR BROTHER -

anyways i've actually had been imagining scenarios for the scalding sands event and hghsdfksdkljrk

this one in particular is just going to live rent free in my head for a bit they're so gdsfhlksd

THANK YOU FOR THIS I LOVE THIS AND I LOVE THEM SO MUCH😭😭😭💖💖💖

[kanene-yaaay]

Oh, To Die By Your Hands

Kanene's notes: IT SEEMS SO SERIOUS WITH THAT TITLE KJUHYTFRGHUJK Nah, just your normal tickle fic with not so much normal characters. Fit and Pac have been living rent free in my mind since before Purgatory and after their date??? I am dead on the floor. Get a man who will declare his feelings for you in your native language for real for real.

Warnings: Lots of nibbles, tickly kisses and raspberries in this one. Switch!Fit and Switch!Pac. Around 6.500 words. Also! I tried to add the way that Pac calls Fit because of his accent written on the fic because I think it's lovely and cute. Hope it isn't too much confunsing or strange :D

[~*~]

“Thank you for coming, Pac. Ramón really likes when you sing him that lullaby.” His voice was rough but soft, just like his entire form and self when it came to his son, his beautiful baby boy. 

Pac smiled, also following his example and lowering his voice, closing the secured door of the kid’s room carefully before they both headed to the other room where they held their first date, a prep on his step. “It’s no problem, Fitch! Actually, I don’t know why he likes that one so much, it literally talks about how a Cuca, which is like… a kind of monster? I don’t know how to explain. But how she will grab, or better, uh, snatch the kid away because the parents are out working.”

A loud peal of laughter was pried from the mercenary’s lips, staring at the other with unbelief in his eyes. “Wait, wait, that is the actual meaning of the song?”

“Yeah, yeah! I don’t know why they made it so scary. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if someone sang it to me before putting me to bed.”

“Damn, brazilian lullabies are just at a hardcore level.”

“Teaches you to sleep with one eye open, right?”

“That is right, that is right.”

They shared smiles. Arriving at the place, the air was still light, but it wasn’t difficult to see the question itching Pac’s throat, wanting to jump out of his body. It was in the way that he walked closely by Fit side and how he kept sneaking glances at him, quickly deviating them to look around the room before going back to stare, keeping the cycle for a while. Each time his steps got closer and closer until their hands intertwined in a hold.

It made sense he would be like that, of course. Fit would be just the same if his boyfriend woke him up in the middle of the night asking him to come to his place to help to calm down his kid after a nightmare because he wasn’t able to. 

Still, he was glad that no questions were asked, not when Pac arrived - barely half a minute later after he sent his message, sleep and anxiety clinging like a shadow to his form - and not now, as the storm seemed to have passed.

Shame, however, kept flowing hot in his veins. He and Ramón had been alone since… always, really. They both had dealt with each other’s nightmares and night terrors more times than they could count. This one wasn’t supposed to be different. Shouldn’t be different. He should be there the moment his boy opened the door of his room with tears streaming down his face, sobs stubbornly escaping from his firmly pressed lips and hands open for a comforting hug that Fit should be able to give, a rare show of a child that his baby boy was, but refused to demonstrate most of time.

And yet…

Fit himself hadn’t been much better. Hadn’t been better for a long time, now. Because everytime he closed his eyes the threat from Madagio filled his mind and nightmares kept permeating his every night for the past two weeks, crowding his mind with horrifying scenarios that shouldn’t, but shook his core. 

Usually, he would just wake up, push all of it - the feelings, the fears, the screams begging for their life - deep down his chest and hope that it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.

Nevertheless to say, as all the things in life, it definitely did. 

Because that night, when Ramón looked at his face - and god knows what he saw there - he stopped right in his tracks and carefully signed his name. He had been crying, he had been crying and scared and tired and all Fit could think - because words simply didn’t come out, no matter how much he tried to spill, spit them to comfort his kid - is that he could kill him. So quickly. Easily, even, with a twist of his wrist, a swipe of his trident, a pull from his bomb stacks, he could kill him and suddenly he was frozen on the spot, unable to even get closer to his son. 

If Madagio had any power like the Federation, it could control him and destroy his most precious riches in a matter of seconds. It wouldn’t need to come to the island. It wouldn’t even need to pull Fit from it to make his life a living hell.

“There is something that we need to talk, Pac. Please take a seat.”

So, he called Pac. He deserved to know exactly what he was getting into (how many times would they have this kind of conversation?) and Ramón deserved a father who would actually get his shit together and get over it.

Pac gulped and looked at him slightly startled, knowing very well what the serious tune could mean, probably with a thousand of scenarios already running at light speed in his mind. “O-of course, Fitch.”

He then softly squeezed his hand - because there was no universe where Pac wouldn’t be perfect and strong and there but sometimes Fit seemed to forget that so he had to remind him - and let it go, sitting on the blue couch Fit recently added on the room and expectantly waiting for the other to do the same.

Which he promptly did - of course, because there wasn’t any universe where he would go and Fit wouldn’t immediately follow him. 

“Wine? What about wine? Do you want some wine?” The brazilian offered, pulling glasses from his well trusted backpack and a bottle from the refrigerator nearby. 

“Already wanting to take me to bed, Pac? Wow.” 

“No! Stop it.” Pac lightly shoved his arm, both chuckling for a bit before Fit sobered, taking a deep breath and a sip of the liquid. It was good stuff, probably from Aypierre’s vines. “Thought we were here to have a serious conversation, no?”

“We are.” 

Fit stopped, pondered how he would put it in words. It didn’t matter, there was no easy way to put it.

“Pac, would you kill me if it was necessary?”

The scientist sputtered, almost choking on the wine before turning in alarm to stare at the other, his gaze zig zagging across his body as if it would transform at any moment into an enemy, a monster in disguise pretending to be his boyfriend right in front of him. 

He didn’t doubt Pac’s abilities, even if Pac himself hardly believed in them. He was an extremely good fighter, going through monsters and battles with a calm demeanor and precise, strong attacks that ended the conflict as soon as possible. Fit was very skilled, himself. But he was sure that if Pac used one of his brilliant plans and his scythe, it would take a lot, but he would eventually come down.

But, for that, he needed to know if Pac would go through with the plan.

“Why, why that, Fitch? Did something happen? Are you feeling weird? Is it…” He got closer. Fit’s heart beated louder. If it was him… if it was him it wouldn’t be so bad. “Is it the Federation, again?”

“No. It’s… the other.”

Understanding downed in his expression. “Oh. Did he contact you again?”

Fit shook his head. “No. But it did say that it would hurt you if I tried to betray our contract and I am not planning to but, Pac, I need to know if you’ll do it. If I become a threat.”

Pac bit his lower lip, thoughtfully. Fit’s muscles relaxed, glad to know he was taking this as a serious worry, not just some unfounded fear.

“We will save you. Just like we did before, just like you did to me, Fitch. I, I will be there for you too, when you need and for as long as you need, if you’re gone we will bring you back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t, but, if I have to kill you, Fit… how will I tell this to Ramón? Or Sunny? WHo is going to be her bodyguard? And what about the morning crew? Are we supposed to just… stay?”

“You are all very strong and I am sure that-”

“No.” His voice was determined, sad. His hands gestured widely. “No, no, no. I am not leaving you behind, Fit. What about when I’m in danger, who will rescue me? Who will share the island’s fofoca with me? Or give me a refrigerator full of food on the first date? Or kill the eye workers when they attack or tease Tubbo when he goes on a date with Fred, or help us to take care of Sunny, or, or, or…” Fit held the other’s hands, squeezing it tight when he started to talk too fast, snapping Pac out of his thoughts, making him take a big breath. “No. You can’t go away, Fitche. Never. I won’t let them take you too.”

Oh.

Oh.

Yeah, that… that made sense. 

This was Pac, who the first thought when seeing his friend being drugged and controlled by the Federation was going under the same treatment so he could find a cure for it. The one who forgave Cellbit in a heartbeat when he told him he had changed. Who refused to kill him - even before the date, when Fit couldn’t even put in words his feelings for the other - during Purgatory. Who threw himself into mines and danger easily without thinking twice and would do all of it again an again if it meant keeping someone he cared about safe, even when the Federation kept taking his family one day after the other. He would do it in a heartbeat.

It made sense he didn’t want to lose another one. He was smart, strong, kind… Fit would trust him with his life into his hands in a blink of an eye.

But…

“If I hurt Ramón, Pac. If ever get close to hurt any of the eggs…”

“I will lock you, Fit. And I, we! We will find a cure again. None of them will die and you don’t need to die either.”

“Do you promise?”

Pac nodded, composure and eyes kept firm in their place, holding him down and reminding him he was no longer on this alone. “I promise, Fit. And if your boss cat comes here to hurt them… Then we will kick his butt, right?”

Fit snorted, if it was anyone else, he would doubt, throw their words away as a senseless attempt to comfort him, without true meaning. His boss was god, some kind of entity with power enough to pull him out of a world of literal destruction and throw him into a dimension where all of it never existed. However, this was Pac. Both he and Mike have proven over and over again that there was no place, no rule, no limit that they weren't able to overcome and laugh at their face when the managed to overcome it.

Maybe… If it was him.

He could believe it. Besides, Pac did promise that he wouldn’t let him hurt the children. They were always the priority, afterall

“Yes, we will. Thank you, Pac.” He took a deep breath. Since he already started, he could as well… 

Talk. About stuff.

“Sometimes I… worry about, uh, what I can do.”

(Kill. Maim. Destroy. Break it down piece by piece until there is nothing left. Watch in the shadows and continue his way quietly through all the screams.)

Pac understood what he meant. “Oh. It’s fair. I think, it must be hard, when you think about it…” He then squeezed his hand before letting them go, starting to count on his own fingers. “But, I don’t think you should worry about it, Fitch. You can do a lot of awesome things, too! You’re a really good cooker, you can make very cool bombs and explosions, you’re good at hide and seek, at saving me when I am down. You are also very good at hiking and training, which makes sense, right? With how muscular and great you are, also-”

“Pac,” Fit voice’s took a firm tune, pulling Pac from his rambling and immediately catching his attention, wide black eyes turning at him attentively. “Pac, I was made for killing. All of this is just…”

(It doesn’t matter.)

“Nah.”

Fit blinked once, twice, quite astonished at how nonchalant the scientist sounded. Stared at those beautiful, soft eyes that watched him with a playful light that somehow nothing on the Island had been able to destroy. Strong. “Sorry?”

“I don’t think you were made for killing, Fit. No one is only able to do one thing and everyone can change. Besides… it gave you a lot of skill, right? Surviving there. That is why you’re one of the best fighters on the island, Fit! The codes, the eye workers… even Cucorucho is no match for you. You’re so strong, fierce, cool, fit and,” Pac’s determined tune tripped a little bit as his words got faster and a tad more distracted, his eyes deviating from his stare, looking at his face, arms, torso… Fit would be lying if he said he didn’t like how it hovered for a little while on his chest and muscles, “and you’re good looking too! Awesome, ruthless, muscular, handsome...”

“Ahalright!” Fit cut him before his face melted from how hot it felt, the tip of his ears feeling like they were on fire. His voice seemingly broke Pac out of his mind and made him immediately attempt to hide his face on his hoodie, trying to jump away to hide and being stopped by the gentle hand still holding his, keeping him close. That didn’t prevent more embarrassed snickers from also filling the air. “Sorry, sorry, I got distracted.”

“Take it easy, big boy, take it easy.”

Fit only laughed harder when the teasy nickname made the other shout in protest, a light hit landing on his shoulder. It successfully distracted him enough so his head peaked again from the deepness of his blue hoodie, so Fit counted it as a win. Especially when a playful gleam took over Pac’s glare.

“Actually, Fitch, I think you were made for something.”

“Oh, you think so?”

Pac got closer, smiling, nodding in such an innocent way that could only mean trouble. 

“Yeah, for kisses.” He laid his head on his shoulder and Fit could feel goosebumps travel his entire body from the skin contact. His voice became lower, slower, certain. “Can I kiss you, Fit?”

Fit definitely didn’t bluescreen, half words and meaningless sounds leaving his mouth in a string of incoherency that lasted a couple of minutes before he finally managed to get himself together enough to shove an actual sentence, with a too high pitched tune, through his throat. “I-I mean, of course you can, Pac! If, ah, if you want to.”

Pac’s answer was a single kiss placed in his collarbone before the brazilian focused his administrations on his neck. Soft, warm lips leaving a trail of tingles and electricity whatever they touched. Fit could feel the care in each one and it felt… nice. 

Cozy. 

Warm. 

Tickly.

Ok, actually, it was very, very tickly.

Fit closed his eyes and turned his face around, trying to hide the beginning of a smile that grew bigger with every light - so, so, so light - peck grazing his skin. Not wanting to actually ruin the sweet moment between them, especially after Pac got the courage to ask for what the mercenary had been wanting to do for a while.

(Cuddle and kiss his boyfriend. Oh god, when did he become such a softie?)

The problem with his hiding tactic is that it only left more spots in the open for Pac to attack and bash in attention, not leaving a single patch of skin alone without a caring goodbye kiss, unknowingly breaking piece by piece Fit’s barriers.

He twitched when his boyfriend got too close to the line of his jaw, the warmth racing up to the tip of his ears in a way he hoped that Pac didn’t realized. The one with blue hoodie and attentive eyes stopped in a hitched breath. Waited.

Fit got his racing heart and tickly tingles under control. He was not going to lose to a few accidental tickles. He was not.

He squeezed Pac’s and drew circles on the back of his hands, turning at him with a teasy smirk and crooked eyebrows.

“Oh, is it my turn now?”

Pac giggled and shook his head. “Wait, wait, I still got…”

Without finishing his sentence he dived and placed a light kiss right under his chin, successfully catching the other out of guard and making one of various locked snickers wheezily flee from his lips, quickly being followed by others when Fit tried to cover his smile, turning around once again.

“Oh, god, I am doing this wrong, aren’t I?” Pac pushed himself away and grumbled, starting to search in his pockets for his warpstone, increasing the other’s snickery fit. “Ok, ok, that is it.Thank you so much for calling, I had an incredible time so now I am going to throw myself off the Cristo Redentor and then go to bed, good night, Fit. Tell Ramón I loved him and tell Richas to take a shower, bye.”

“No, no, Pac. Calma, calma.” Fit held one of his wrists, pulling Pac back to his place on the sofa, chasing his black eyes when they kept running away from his while the scientist kept shaking his head from side to other in a dramatic despair. Fit ended up resting his other hand on his cheek, guiding his look back. “I would never laugh at my brazilian boyfriend.” He tried to not grin smugly when that melted the other’s pout in a shy smile “The kisses just tickled me, that is all.”

That immediately brought Pac’s attention. “Wait, Fit… you’re ticklish?”

“It seems like I am, but I am not sure. Not a lot of chances for bonding and laughing when fighting for your life in 2b2t.”

“Oh, I see.” Silence, Pac’s wrist wiggled out of his hold and suddenly there were warm hands flying to his neck, fingertips dancing on it, blunt nails and wiggly fingers tickling the sensitive spot softly. “So, you’re ticklish.”

Fit huffed a laugh at the strange feeling, instinctively scrunching up his neck all while he tried to not pry Pac’s hands away. Same hands that now spidered their way up to his ears, tracing them and giving each one a few scratches, Pac watching in awe as their tips became more and more colored with each passing second.

“Oh my god, Fit, your ears are so red! Are you blushing? That is really, reeeally cute, you know?”

 Fit’s shoulders began to shake slightly with the effort to keep all the giggles and laughter trapped inside, the task growing more and more difficult as Pac kept his exploring. Fingers tapping their way down to the mercenary’s ribcage, making his torso twitch from one side to another as they started skittering up and down, tracing senseless drawings and forms on the spot. Another fleeing snigger escaped from his firmly pressed lips. There was no way such light, barely even touching touch could tickle that much.

“You can laugh it out, Fit. I bet it will feel much better! Besides,” the gleam in his eyes got sharper and Pac didn’t really lower his voice, but something in his tune changed, a turning point that made a shiver run down Fit’s spine. It didn’t feel like something truly dangerous but alerts began flashing in his mind when the touch became just a tad firmer. 

Fit had to push down the squirms that threatened to push the other away. “You can’t just keep all that laughter only for yourself, now, that wouldn’t be fair. No, no, not fair at all. Keeping all those giggles and snickers hidden from me. Trapped inside. They deserve to be free, you know? So everyone can see how cute they are.”

“Pac…”

But then Pac started digging and his barrier broke. Loud laughter immediately followed the hands vibrating in between his ribs, scribbling, looking for any special spot that would make Fit go insane. Not that he was very far from this, now, head being thrown backwards with how strong his crackles were, because nothing in the world could ever prepare him for the feeling that was being tickled, to have each nerve screaming but not in pain, to have each touch bring a new kind of electricity that traveled his torso and filled his heart with a warmth that made him want to jump out of the sofa and at the same time bring Pac closer.

A curious prodding in a spot in his highest ribs that was almost on his back and Fit slammed his body on the cushion, a snort being pried from his lips and quickly being followed by another and another when the fingers kept drilling and kneading on the spot non stop.

Then he heard it, low as a whisper. “Beautiful….” It came in an awed voice, and in between half lidded eyes Fit saw the one with black hair shake his head, as if getting himself together before slowing down the tickling, thumbs rubbing the remnant tickles as he stared at him. “Sorry, Fitch, I, caham, I got, uh, distracted. Are you okay?” He nodded, chuckles taking over his words and disappearing with any hope of saying something without descending in more of a waterfall of giggles. Still, he tried, the proud smile in Pac’s face erasing his embarrassment in how silly he sounded giddy like this. 

“I’m fine, just surprised that I am dating a tickle monster.”

The brazilian laughed, shaking his head and hiding his face on Fit’s shoulder. “Não, não, não (No, no, no). Mike is actually the tickle monster in our team. I just learned a lot from playing fights with him.” Pac trembled in an exaggerated shudder. “He is merciless.”

“Really?”

“Uh hum.” Pac hummed, thoughtful, before doing a little ‘pop’ sound, hands washing down to his sides, tapping senselessly there. “He had this kind of attack where he would be talking to you and suddenly he would start to tickle you and like, it would be really, really light so you didn’t actually, you know, like, died laughing? But at the same time it would be crazily ticklish! Following you around no matter how much you squirmed or snickered.”

“P-pac, come on…”

The other just hummed, still talking and hands still spidering in their resting position, taking turns in between drawing circles on his sides, feeling how his torso would shake with a new round of chuckles blossoming anew, and scratching the little dive of his hips to make them grow faster.

“Then he would try to keep a conversation going and complain like ‘are you even paying attention to what I’m saying, what’s going on?’ as if he didn’t know what was happening, can you believe?! And you couldn’t just… walk away or keep silly giggling non stop and not answer him, because you’re still in a conversation and that would be rude, right? So you’re just there, laughing and wiggling and it always drives me crazy!”

Fit nodded, knowing the feeling very well, in his opinion. His brain trying to pay attention to his words but getting totally distracted by his own attempts to not wiggle around so much because everytime his body trashed to one side, Pac would just dig his fingers on his sides and drum, which made him jump in the other direction only to receive the same treatment, creating a maddening cycle almost impossible to escape from. 

Once again, laughing began flooding the room, high pitches and wheezy giggles chasing around one or two squeals when a tentative squeeze grazed the spot before quickly jumping away, the unexpected playful attacks blending with the soft scribbles and somehow making him not being able to predict nor prepare for one or the other.

“And then, out of nowhere he would get bored and that is where it lies the danger, Fitch.” Pac’s voice took a turn to a lower tune, torn between a warning and a threat. His tickling came to a halt, fingertips just laying on his waist with occasional twitches. What was more strange, though, was how, even so, the janitor couldn’t stop the titters taking over his mind and body. He wondered if that was how he would finally die, undone and destroyed by his very lovely boyfriend. Pac snickered in mischief and amusement, breaking his mask for a couple of seconds before cleaning his throat and coming back to his persona, interlocutor voice back again.

“Because, when he stops it means that he is getting bored. You know that he is getting bored and he knows that you know that he is getting bored and that it is just a matter of time before he decided that is enough and something happens” he highlighted the word by spidering quickly across his ribs. His voice sounded like it was closer. “So you just stay there, quiet, waiting for the moment he will strike.”

Fit held his breath, eyes closed. His smile was so big that it traveled from one ear to the other. No more laughter was falling from his mouth, but his shoulders still bounced with the phantom tickles that freely pricked his skin and seemed to follow his every squirm. Pac’s hands felt warm - dangerous - where they touched and he was pretty sure that his entire face would melt at some point of this game.

He waited.

Waited. Nothing.

A kiss was pressed on his forehead.

He opened an eye, muscles immediately untensing and relaxing with the scene, even if adrenaline still ran without control in his veins, of Pac happily smiling, just a few centimeters from his face.

“Oi, Fitch.”

“Roi, Pa-ACK!”

Loud, uncontrollable and unstoppable laughter filled the room, Fit still tried to finish his sentence before giving up and succumbing to the snorts and wheezing that took over his laughter. Squeezes, drumming and prodding attacked his sides, kneading on the ticklish spot before scratching their way up to his ribs, burying themselves there and then keeping their way up to his armpits - poking and scribbling and making him lock his arms on his torso - until it got to his ears, changing the loud peals of booming laughter to a hysterical string of snickers only to make he go back to crackling when he attacked his sides again and again, alternating between each and every tickle spot so he couldn’t picture where he was going to tickle next. 

Fit could even swear that at some point he felt a squeeze in his knees that fished a chortle from his lips and an uncontrollable kick from his legs.

It lasted only a couple of minutes. All the electricity and tickly buzzing teased and made him laugh like nothing else mattered, loud and free even when, between his own amused giggling, Pac ceased his mean attack and watched with a giant grin as the other tried to regain his breath, a light blush dusting his face.

“You were saying, Fitch?”

Nonsense. That was exactly what Fit was about to say. Because his brain kind of became a mush after all that attack and the airy giggles that kept flowing from his throat didn’t exactly help him to gather his thoughts nor fade the hotness running still on his face.

“I, er, huh…” and there it was, the sentence got lost to jumpy snickers again. Fit brought a hand to hide them and try to gain at least save a bit of face, but a quick poke on his defenseless armpit made it go immediately down again. He glared without any real heat at his boyfriend, who lifted his arms in rendition.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m done for real, now.”

The silence was extended for a few pieces of time, stretching across them like a cat after a nap. 

Fit was the one who broke it.

“That is Mike’s…” He coughed, cleaning his throat “special tickle attack, then? I can see why you call him merciless.”

“Nah, actually that is my own technique. Mike prefers to catch a person out of guard and tickle while taunting them until they promise to make something for him.”

The surprised, amused huff of laughter that came out from the mercenary’s mouth didn’t have anything to do with wiggly fingers this time and Pac joined him. 

“You’re such a sneaky guy, Pac, you’re such a sneaky guy.”

“Thank you. Gotta learn from the best right? Maybe someday me and Ramón will team up and win the hide and seek against you.” 

“Hmm, you probably would. But maybe I can convince Richarlyson to help me?”

“It would be good. Richas is the best in hide and seek. He would really like to. Hey! We should set up a playdate with them in our Hide and Seek arena. We can even call Tubbo and Sunny, maybe even Philza with Chayanne and Tallulah, if they are awake. The more the merrier, right?”

Fit was sure that if he was shapeshifter like Tubbo, without even wanting to, his eyes would be heart shaped. It never ceases to amaze him how Pac could accept and love everyone - him - like they were and would always be a family to him. 

“But, so?” The brazilian wiggled his eyebrows, a smirk opening in his face. “How is it the experience of being tickled for the first time?”

Maddening. Tortuous. Able to make someone go crazy, he was sure. Surprisingly tiring and unexpectedly effective. Strange. Itchy. A lot. Hard to explain.

But also, it was extremely caring. Warm. Soft. Funny. Bonding. Weird. Extremely silly. He couldn’t stop his smile and thoughts about the gleam and shine in Pac’s eyes when he discovered a new spot or how - strangely enough - light and giddy he was feeling right now.

Besides, he never was self conscious about his laughter or anything but listening to Pac calling him… beautiful, in such an amazed voice… Well, his ego really couldn’t complain.

“It was fun.” He decided to go with that, a playful grin in his face, his hands holding Pac’s and intertwining their fingers. 

“Oh, I’m happy in hear that! Actually, I-”

“But…” Fit cut him, purposely deepening his voice in a tune that never failed to catch the other of guard, sending a cold shiver through his muscles. “I can think of something even more fun.”

“Y-yeah?” Pac’s blush deepened when he looked at the dangerous, sharp, determined shine in Fit’s eyes, his entire mind getting overcomed with a choir of excited screams, burning face at realizing how their intertwined hands was both a soft gesture and a restrain. 

Damn, he was really, really gay.

“Uh hm,” his tune now was almost like a purr of a predator watching his prey wobbly smile back and hold his hands tighter together, knowing very well his fate and still not even trying to escape from it. “It’s something that back on 2b2t we liked to call… revenge.”

With a swift move he pulled their hands and lead Pac to lose his equilibrium, falling backwards on his lap, one hand keeping his arms up and the other lifting his hoodie just the slightest bit, the actual perfect amount for him to immediately shove his face on his stomach and start blowing raspberry after raspberry, quick and ruthless.

“FITCHE!” The sound that came out of his mouth could barely be called a word, the high pitched shout being quickly taken over by a hysterical crackling that made his entire body shake with each laughter. 

His boyfriend just chuckled, lifting his head just enough that his next words would be audible to the other, each one buzzing on the ticklish skin and making tiny, tickly electric shocks dance freely across it. “Oh my, Pac, what a delicious belly you got right here. One of the richest, rarest delicacies I’ve ever seen.” 

“NONONO, FITCH!” He kicked and trashed, trying to roll away from his predicament but being firmly held in place by the other, which was kind of nice, since he wasn’t sure how to explain to Fit that he definitely wasn’t going to run away if he had the chance. 

Still, that didn’t stop the fast, airy and high giggles of painting every syllable of his pleas that began flowing like a stream from his lungs, becoming more and more intelligible with each protest. “Please, please, Fitch anything but that! I will do anything you want! Do you wanna know all Mike’s most ticklish spots? Eu posso te dizer! (I can tell you!) he has this place right under his knees that if you poke he starts making ‘wee’ sounds e é muito engraçado (it’s very funny) Fitche por favor, espera, espera, wait!”

“Sorry, Pac, nothing I can do. I just have to try a little. Raspberries are so delicious and I just… I just gotta, ya know? I just gotta try a little, the tiniest little bit.” He lowered his head once again, carefully and softly nibbling on the ticklish skin and doing a bunch of ‘oh nom nom nom’ sounds as he did so, smugly relishing in how louder Pac’s laughter sounded at this, random portuguese and english being mixed in a series of incoherent talking that he couldn't even hope to understand, even with the translator. 

The raspberries and nibbles began taking turns, dancing all across his stomach and sometimes even escaping to attack one lower rib or two in a way that usually drove Ramón crazy. It was kind of funny and endless endearing to realize that both of his boys were extremely weak for the same kind of tickle attack.

All the while Pac was simply dying. There was no other way to describe it. He was utterly and completely dying, losing every tread of.. everything that wasn’t thinking about how much it tickled and laughing both because Fit (Fit!!!!! His boyfriend Fit!!!!) was teasing and tickling him and also because as it seems he was the goofiest dork that ever existed in this world while doing that and somehow that made all the butterflies flying crazy on his belly and tickly electricity following his nerves one hundred times worse and ticklish and it was amazing.

Fit enjoyed a couple more minutes of the silly attack, fondly realizing how much more hysterical and loud the crackles got everytime he added more “hmmm” and “nom nom nom” sounds.

“There we go, big boy.” He lifted his head and got a glimpse of a gigantic, dazzling smile and a red face before Pac immediately hid it behind his hands, wheezes and snickers filling the room.

“Shuhuhut up!”

Fit grinned, but let go of the teasing and took pity on his brazilian boyfriend. He could quite understand why Pac seemed so happy in destroying him minutes ago. There was just a something that made his heart beat faster just in realizing that he was the reason why Pac was so happy and giggly.

Also, the way that the brazilian’s accent got stronger, especially while saying his name in between unstoppable, uncontrollable giggling… Fit thinks he could live with that, yeah.

“Oh my god, Fitche… and you call me merciless.”

The ex-mercenary chuckled. His eyes hovered over Pac’s face, making sure that he was still breathing and alive (he hadn’t taken too far, did he?) when suddenly his look got attracted to his neck, the memory of what started all of this popping like a flashing lamp in his mind.

“Pac…” It was the low voice again, lighter, but still there. Pac’s entire body froze still for a second and alarmed eyes turned to stare Fit, who seemed strangely fixated on his hoodie. “Is your neck ticklish?”

Oh.

Oh.

Pac 100% blamed the gay screaming in his head for his next words.

“YES!” The shout was as excited as it was loud, making both of them wince at it, Fit looking at the one with black hair with a faintly surprised, crooked eyebrows. “I mean, er, assim, uh, no!!! It’s actually not! NOt even a little bit! What even is ticklish, you know? I don’t even speak english, senhor Fitch eme ce, na verdade, essa é a minha primeira vez aqui na ilha, quem é você e… Não!” (sir Fit eme cee, actually, this is my first time here in the island, who are you and… No!)

The babbling was promptly cut when, once again, Fit chuckled in mischief and shoved his head on Pac’s neck. 

Butterfly kisses followed the line of his jaw, attacked that spot under his chin, tickled the place where the collarbone and the neck met, each patch of sensitive skin getting a kiss and a raspberry as a gift, making a series of snorts and high dazed giggles quickly follow the initial surprised shriek and jump around the entire room, Pac’s arms coming to rest on the other’s chest, partially pushing him away and partially holding him, legs kicking behind them with how much adrenaline and giddiness jumped across his muscles and filled his heart.

Pac hid his face on the crook of Fit’s neck, attempting to at least survive a few more seconds from dying of embarrassment, each snort and hysterical high pitched snicker sealing even more his fate and putting another nail in his coffin.

A few curious squeezes on his sides and a final, long raspberry and then Fit finally let him go, watching as the other got his breath again, forgetting for once to hide his blush and brilliant smile into his hoodie, looking completely lost in his own laughing fit. Adorable. 

Sometimes Fit wondered how could he be so lucky.

A loud click and a flashing light brought both of them out of their thoughts. Pac almost falling from the sofa when he turned around and saw Ramón quickly hid a camera behind his back while passing three copies of the pictures to Richas, who stopped making gagging noises to hide them on his protected backpack before the adults could take it.

“Richarlyson, Me dá essas fotos!” (Give me those pictures!) 

“Ramón, what are you doing awake? You should be sleeping. It’s late.”

Ramón had the sense to look at least a tad admonished, but the expression quickly disappeared when Richas began jumping on the same spot, wiggling from one side to another like he always did when he wanted to cause more mischief. The kids exchanged a look.

“Nenê (Baby), no. Don’t follow Richas’ example, he is a little demon.” 

The sandal that went flying across the room and hit the brazilian in the face - which actually led to him falling from the cushions - only further proved this fact. Still, Richas let out plenty of offended noises while getting his sandal back, showing off his tongue when Ramón shoved him and shook his head in disapproval. 

Fit tried his best to not laugh and sound serious. “Richas, do not hit your dad.”

“Don’t worry, Fitch.” Pac tapped his arm, getting up from the floor, tsking. “There is no other way, I guess. I’ll have to kill him. Yeah, it was fun to have a son for a while.”

The mercenary laughed, knowing very well how much of a weak heart Pac had for his little troublemaker. “Calma, calma, Pac. I think I have the solution. Since the kids are feeling so… energetic, we should probably tire them out before putting them back in bed, right?” 

He also got up and gave Pac a Look, pretending to not see Ramón pulling Richas’ sleeve and exchanging warning words to him, knowing very well what that playful, dangerous shine in his dad’s eyes meant.

Pac grinned, mirroring his own devilish expression. “I think you’re right, Fit.”

Richas once again wiggled around in energy, his dragon tail tapping on the floor while Ramón threw a flower at Pac (smart boy, Fit thought, winning the melting heart from the dad that would have more mercy, very smart) and jumped on the same place, smiling and nodding in excitement.

He then pulled Richas away, starting the chase. Pac immediately following behind with joyfuls “I’m gonna catch you!”.

Fit chuckled.

Maybe Pac was right. 

Maybe life - he - was more than just die and kill. 

Well… he rolled his shoulders and followed his family in their game, laughing excitedly. He would have to enjoy it while it lasted, then.

[astrum-aetherium]

Henry's been living rent free in my head since I read TSH like four months ago- I cannot stop thinking about him and your blog is single handedly fueling my obsession with him so thank you so much really.

Anyways- I know Henry is definitely not the soft type of guy, but I do believe he could get just a tiny little bit softer than he usually is (sparingly) were he to find a person he really liked?? This is probably just my guilty and mostly out of character pleasure, but imagining him being all cold and harsh as he is for the most part and then suddenly doing or saying that one unexpectedly tender thing out of nowhere (even in a nsfw context, that's even better) and then going back to his usual self in a heartbeat makes me go uughhh

i wholeheartedly agree with you. on so many levels. it's very easy to cross the utterly restrictive OOC boundaries when speaking/writing about him, since all we seem to know is how stoic and cool and constantly displeased he is (although i could impugn this very well — take the glass shard scene or his staying at the hospital with richard as an example).

us as readers, we cannot help but crave a little softness from him sometimes, and i understand that completely. i'm always willing to indulge us all in a scenario like that. in a better world, on slightly OOC premises, he would make an evidently detached, but caring partner. coincidentally, i have been thinking about just that for the past couple of days, despite formerly being convinced it would be entirely impossible to conduct a healthy relationship with that man (which, yeah, if we strictly stick to canon, it still would be, but that's the beauty about fiction — we get to brush past and alter some things to our enjoyment).

therefore, yes — with the opportunity to alter his character just a tiny bit, i believe he would let his soft side flash every now and again. i don't think it would be in any form of physical touch, however, as he certainly isn't one to put his feelings on display, especially in public (in private, however, that'd be a completely different story). it would mostly be symbolic with him. for instance, imagine it being your birthday. as your partner, he would know you inside and out — he is highly attentive and perceptive, especially when it comes to those closest to him, and he would absolutely be well-versed in anything that you might like, or mention liking. he would know. loving is knowing. therefore, for your birthday, he would not only think of and buy you the best and most thoughtful present imaginable, but he would also buy five more to give to the rest of the group under the pretense of "i know her/him/them better than all of you combined, which is why all of your gifts have already been taken care of".

that is how his affection would shine through — acts of service. being spoiled by him is another tremendous part of that. i have already approached this topic in two previous posts, but to summarize: he absolutely would be willing to spoil you in any way imaginable, as it would be the only plausible way for him to prove the depth of his feelings for you (along with kisses and other physical endeavors, which would exclusively be saved for private settings).

in addition, i feel like he would let himself be swayed more and more despite his dogmatic position, meaning he would be willing to comply or enter compromises, especially for you. orrr... to approach the aspect of him portraying the merest smidge of sweetness and immediately reverting to his stoic self — imagine a strand of hair having fallen loose from your hairstyle, or it simply veiling your hair too much, to the point where he would press the book he might be holding under his arm mid-conversation and brush it aside for you with a light smile, only to immediately proceed with whatever it is he had been occupied by previously.

from a nsfw standpoint, his care would mostly show in his being very forthcoming and reassuring to you (asking for consent, asking if you're in any discomfort during a position, checking up on you during rougher activity), and aftercare (bringing you towels/water/a cigarette (lol), proposing to go pee, holding you on occasion if matters had been overly rough and you might still be trembling).

he would also totally be the type to run his fingers through your hair and even play with it. i don't care how OOC some people believe this to be — i need it. sometimes a girl just needs something of the sort.

[tododeku-or-bust]

I noticed your "fill my inbox" post so i wanted to tell you about my OCs that i've been working on lately, it might come across weird or maybe much and I'm probably going to seriously expose myself out of anonymity with the details but i hope you'll like to hear it anyways -- I saw a post that suggested more representation for fat emo girls (i misremembered it as "i want to see more fat emo girls") and I became really inspired so i made a sketch of a fat black emo girl. Her being black was just another case of my brain going "*hand raise* Do they have to be white/Would it hurt if they were black?" and the response is often "no" even "that would be more interesting" so I switch it up, and after searching through names, the name Ada stuck. I wanted to give her a distinctly black name because I felt like that isn't done enough and that it wasn't fair, but anyways. I had a character that I made previously, named Nia the Swift, made because I had a lesbian JoJo OC named Vivian (lost sister of Dio) and she totally kicked ass and tugged at my heart strings but I realized that she was the only confirmed lesbian OC I had, so I thought "I need to make another one" so I made him and I made him black and masc and I couldn't resist making him a fancy-dancy cunning vampire. Anyhow, I was thinking about Ada a lot because I got interested in emo subculture so whenever I would think about emo stuff, I'd think about her too. She's a gloomy character, but I didn't like seeing her sad/out of it all the time. A silly idea came up in my head of her getting her hand kissed by Nia and thinking "am i goth?" (subtext: because i think i'm falling in love with a vampire) and I thought it was great. When I made Nia, I didn't really think up any Scenarios for him for a little too long and I felt like he needed to be part of a duo, but I couldn't come up with any solid ideas yet, so I felt like Ada would make an excellent match. I'm swamped with a lot of big stressful things this month but I'm hoping to squeeze in drawing him being very very sweet and gentlemanly to her and her making cute meme emoji faces about it, and maybe some other things involving them. I've been learning a lot about hair lately for it (which is good bc my career seems like it could loom unexpectedly into the "hair" area) and it was nice listening to a tutorial on how to get good box braids while i was on an errand walk. I thought previously that box braids had more than 3 strands, maybe 4 hence the name "box" braids (no, also on closer inspection, no). Sorry for sending you so many big paragraphs and run-on sentences, but I hope maybe you can have my two vaguely described women living in your head rent free now

Yeah lol, I do recognize who you are now 🤣

Well, I'm glad you took the time to stop yourself and decide that she didn't have to be white! That is definitely the first step that very many people don't take!

As for "that would be more interesting", I encourage you to take those next steps and determine why. Why would it be more interesting? Them being Black shouldn't be the interesting part- that would make them sound like they're a token!

Have you done research in Black emo culture? Have you done research into fatness while being Black? Are those things that affect your character's life? Her decisions and her personality? Does it play into how people treat her? That's where we get into the intent! Because I'm not Black and emo, but I can tell you right now her being "gloomy" would definitely affect the way people treat her as a Black woman in reality. I do appreciate that you let her have other emotions though!

I do have an Auntie Ada (rip), and Nia is also a Black African name (it means 'purpose'). Did you know that when you named him?

And no lmao that is not why they're called box braids. I am very glad you took the time to look that up before saying it out loud, because that would have been quite embarrassing in front of the right (Black) people 🤣

Thank you for sharing your Black OCs with me, and I hope you continue to care for them!

[morallygreyyn]

hiii! Can you do like a kind of scenario where hisoka and reader need to attend to like an event or smth but they had a fight before and usually reader does his make up for him but now there’s like a heavy tension and she threatens him that she’s gonna “ruin his make up later”

don't thank me just yet (hisoka x reader) (scenario)

description: after having an argument with hisoka the last thing you want to do is go to an event with him, but somehow he always finds a way to worm himself back into your good graces…

authors note: hisoka in makeup absolutely lives in my head rent free so this was so much fun to write

warnings: none bar hisoka

requests are open!

“Don’t even think about breathing in the same direction as me.” You cursed, storming off and away from your lover.

“Unfortunately, my dearest, we have an event to attend.”

Of course you just had to have a screaming match with Hisoka right before you had to both attend an important event. Of fucking course.

“Don’t remind me.” Grumbling, you slammed the door to the bathroom shut, deciding to get ready by yourself rather than together like you usually do. You had just finished your makeup when you heard a rather amused voice through the door.

“Are you still angry?”

“What do you think?” You snapped as the door swung open, revealing your smirking lover.

“This cannot be.” He fanned himself, playing up the dramatics. “However will I get ready for the ball now?”

“First, we’re not going to a ball. Second, if you want makeup then do it yourself.”

“But I love it when you do me.” You rolled your eyes at the innuendo and folded your arms.

“What will I get in return?”

“My sincerest gratitude.”

“That’s not worth much.”

“A good heart and soul?”

“I’m dating you, there’s no way I can ever achieve those things.”

He tapped his chin, seemingly lost in thought. “Then how about an apology?”

“And would you mean it?”

“Vaguely.”

Close enough. “Let’s hear it then.”

Hisoka grinned before donning a solemn expression, dropping into a bow. “I am deeply sorry to have caused you pain and anger, my dearest y/n.”

“Sit your dramatic ass on the chair.”

An hour later and Hisoka was looking pretty damn good, you had to applaud yourself on the back. Perhaps he looked even better than you but you would rather die than give him that ammunition.

The magician observed your handiwork in the mirror, obviously very pleased with the result. “My, my, you did it again. How would you like me to thank you?”

“Don’t thank me too much.” You gripped his chin and turned his head, forcing the irritating magician to look you in the eye. “I’ll be the one to ruin it later.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“What would you like it to be?”

A catlike grin stretched across his features, amber eyes winking with mischief. You both knew the answer to that.

[shiny-jr]

Ahhhhhhh!!!! That Vil fic was sooo good! The desperation! The refusal to believe darling wouldn’t want to be with him! It’s soooo tragically good!

Vil is the Queen of delusional yanderes. Who else would gaslight themselves into thinking they were the problem, but still insist on being with darling? Love it!

Getting some real “I’m not bad, just drawn that way,” vibes from this. Once again, thank you for the meal. Vil now lives rent free in my head thanks to this.

Also, love the idea of darling somehow being forced to cooperate with Vil for a case, and Vil has this whole movie scenario of helping catch the villain and winning his darling over planned in his head. Like, we kiss in the final scene, right? So he helps, they win, and the next day, darling is just gone? Like, bye, this isn’t a movie, I have bills. I’m onto the next case.

—Buttons-anon

LOL the last idea got me. I pictured it so vividly. Vil plotting the entire thing out, mc will be in trouble and he'll come in to rescue them and such. He'll get to kiss them, just like a scene in those movies he plays where the hero gets a kiss from the one they save. Maybe he does get a kiss, maybe he just gets a hug or a few kind words, and later-- poof. Mc is gone as soon as he turns around. Mc has to collect that paycheck from the now complete case and move on.

[darkpoisonouslove]

💛 (Valtor) 🤍🤎 (Fallen Love)

🌷

💛 Yellow: Do you ever alter, highlight, or de-emphasize certain canonical traits in a character? If so, why and describe how.

Sure! I write a lot of AUs and you have to tweak here and there to make the story work. Now I don't want to look at my earlier work because I now consider it to be completely OOC, especially where Valtor is concerned. But in more recent fics there are two trends concerning how I write him.

First of all, I tend to make him less overpowered. He is still super powerful and formidable but I often emphasize the fact that security measures can and will be an obstacle even to him (usually by making Griffin necessary to the equation or hinting he has to strategize hard to pull it off alone). It's important to me that I don't let him accomplish things too easily because that does a disservice to both him and whoever he's up against. His cunning and power shine brightest when they're challenged at least a little and besides, what kind of story would it be if he can do anything without breaking a sweat? Where are the stakes? Where's the suspense? That's just not how you write a good story.

The second thing I do is to include him breaking his composure sometimes. I think that canon is particularly egregious in failing to keep his power in check which in turn allows him to keep too much composure most of the time and that leads to a misinterpretation of his character. He is only calm and collected when he's fully in control of the situation or can easily spin it to his advantage. The moment a real problem arises, he loses his temper which... happened about 3 times on the show because nothing can challenge him. It's just not interesting. You can make a character that's powerful as hell and still has to face hurdles. It just doesn't make sense that everything works so well for him until it doesn't. It's inconsistent with the backstory as well.

🤍 White: What's a fanfic scenario or idea you'd like someone else to write so that you can read it?

This is such an ironic answer because I started outlining this for the sole purpose of writing a better witch x witch hunter story after a book annoyed me with its execution. To say I'd like someone else to write it completely defeats the purpose but at this point I have so many more ideas that have a hold on my mind that this is hardly on the list of priorities. Wouldn't mind reading it though if someone could write it for me and write it well.

If it's unclear, the answer is the witch x witch hunter AU (more info in the link). I liked the story at the time but, again, Valtor is OOC and there are structural problems with it. It could work with this structure but it doesn't feel optimal and, frankly, even if I fixed the structure, I'd have no time to write this. Which is a shame because I still think the story has a lot of potential and I do have that half a notebook of notes on it that are going to waste (I might post those as bullet points some time). It's really painful to look at something that you see as full of potential and have to throw it away so it'd be great if someone could take this off my hands so I can read it but not write it.

🤎 Brown: How did you decide to write (or why are you writing) a certain fanfic? (Asker, feel free to choose a specific story you're curious about. You can also let the answerer choose the story.)

First of all, thank you so much for asking about Fallen Love! It is my baby and I am so in love with how much of a dysfunctional disaster Griffin and Valtor are; I cannot look away from it!

I swear to god, I haven't abandoned this story! I think about it every day and I have made some progress on chapter 2 (as well as on the outline for the other chapters, which have definitely grown in number significantly). I just want it to be good and that's making things go agonizingly slowly. No, really, I am in literal pain but I'm going to stick with it no matter what. It doesn't just live in my head rent-free, it lives in my bones!

Now to answer the actual question - I can't remember the exact line of thought but I know I went "Hey, what if Valtor won the war and he has everything he wanted including Griffin but she's moping so much about losing Faragonda that it's really driving him up the wall?" It has changed a lot since then and is now more about Griffin and Valtor's broken relationship (hence the title) and, hopefully, about them taking responsibility for the actions that led to this point. Not to imply that things will get better because they won't really but the idea is to put all cards on the table and figure out how to proceed when they can't get rid of their mutual obsession with each other. Plus, I love the chaotic energy of them trying to outwit each other and pulling out all the stops when it comes to getting what they want. The upside (and downside) of being this obsessed with each other is that they both believe they can pull any stunt they want and the other will just have to deal with it. In a way they're both desperate to be proven wrong about that and be saved from the madness that is their relationship but they would also kill anyone and destroy anything trying to come between them. They're just stable that way.

This story has given me brain rot. It is such a perfect opportunity to look into where things went wrong for them and bring it back to basics. It's just the two of them! There are other characters in the story but there's no one that can come between them. It makes them face the fact that everything they did to each other was because of them and they can't blame anyone else. And with all of their other goals more or less put aside, there are no distractions to keep them from examining their relationship aka really bad news for them. But hey, they also get to be completely unhinged in every way so it should be a great show!

Send me a color

[covenofthearticulate]

Pairing: Armand/Louis/Lestat

Opener: "I have missed you so much." 🥹

Send a pairing and a starting line! (listen you already know I simply HAD to write something based off of this response I had on my Louis blog!! this has lived rent free in my head for MONTHS so thank you for supplying the perfect jumping off point for me)

"I have missed you so much."

The confession comes between gritted teeth. There's a heaviness to his voice, and they both catch it immediately. There is no Mind Gift needed to communicate the level of concern etched across the furrow of Lestat's brow, the frown tugging at Armand's cherub lips.

It's a jarring sight to come home to: Louis in his chair, fussing with the threadbare sleeves of his sweater, the delicate features of his face twisted with ruinous anguish as crimson tears slowly collect in the corners of his downcast eyes.

Impossible, that this was the same creature Lestat had left only a few nights ago. He remembers their conversation so clearly:

“I think you should go,” Louis had encouraged him, upon reading the invitation from Armand. It was a simple request: come to Paris, help to renovate the villa while the weather was still warm. The invitation was open to Louis, too, of course, but Louis knew better than to intervene.

“I knew you’d say that,” Lestat had scoffed.

“I think it would be good for you both.”

“You’re only saying that to get me out of the house. I’ll come home to find all the furniture out in the street, replaced with something boring and practical.”

“It is a ghastly armchair, Lestat.”

“It’s a statement piece.”

“We don’t need to make statements.”

“I have nothing to say to him.”

“That’s not true, Lestat.”

“Of course it’s true! How many nights have we spent together gnashing at old wounds? How many times can we have the same argument? He probably only wants me there to insult me.”

“Paris is different. You don’t have to speak to him. Just be in each other’s company. Explore the city as humans do. Hunt. Be the companions you never could be before.”

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop being wise.”

“I’m giving you my honest advice, Lestat.”

“Come with me, then. Let the three of us walk down the Champs Elysses.”

“No,” Louis had said. “It needs to be the two of you.”

It was Louis who told him to go, Louis who sensed the importance tending to the old wounds between the two of them.

But it was also Louis who had sent that text, merely days after Lestat’s departure. 

He hadn’t meant to do it, in all honesty. He knew damn well as soon as he hit the send button that he would ruin their time together. But, see, Lestat had made the mistake of sending Louis a picture. It wasn’t the sort of picture Louis expected to receive while Lestat was away (and thank God for that, honestly); it was simply a selfie of he and Armand walking down the street. Lestat’s arm was wrapped around Armand’s shoulder, and Armand’s expression was ripe with annoyance, frustration, and irrefutable love. 

Evidence that we have not killed each other yet. Please, tell me you are proud of me. I love to hear you say it. xoxo

It was nothing Louis had not seen before. It was exactly what he had hoped for, in fact. He had every intention of replying with a simple “Good.” or perhaps even a thumbs up at this best-case scenario. 

And yet. 

The longer he stared at it, the longer he felt some strange agony in the pit of his stomach, like a red hot poker melting through him. The feeling is alien, but not unrecognizeable. He knows it for what it is, and it’s humiliating and irrational and completely, totally foolish, but for perhaps the first time in centuries…Louis de Pointe du Lac is jealous.

I miss you.

I miss you both. 

I cannot stand the thought of the two of you finding happiness without me. 

I know how selfish that is. I know I am being irrational and hypocritical. But surely, I will die without your love.

I need the two of you here with me, now.

And that was that. Lestat and Armand were on a plane home within the hour.

If the air wasn't sucked out of his lungs at the sight of him, Lestat might have made a joke, might have checked the sky for flying pigs because if Louis de Pointe du Lac is weeping, then surely the end of the world is soon to follow. He opens his mouth to try and say as much, but Louis beats him to it:

“You must think me so foolish.”

The thing about Louis is that he so often carries an air of melancholy with such grace that everyone seems to forget the hidden depths of anguish that rear their ugly heads when he is left alone with his own thoughts for too long. His approach to the masterful art of repression had been wholisticly different than that of Armand or Lestat; rather than numb himself entirely or run from the depths of his emotions, Louis had always drowned himself in sorrow because, perhaps long ago, he thought he might acclimate to it.

Instead, it only seems to twist him up until he’s worse off than before. It had chewed him up and spat him out, this time.

“Louis,” is all Lestat can think to say as they drop their bags, shed their coats and head straight for their lover in his trusty old armchair.

They kneel, one on each side; Lestat on the left and Armand on the right. Leaning closer, Lestat lifts his hand to wipe the tears from Louis’ eyes, but is shunned away.

“He’s embarrassed,” Armand translates, as he so often does. Beneath the curtain of black hair, he catches Louis’ gaze and knows he’s struck the truth.

“Embarrassed! Why—”

“Because he wants our love, and there is some part of his mind that feels humiliated in admitting that.”

The sudden rush of blood in Louis’ cheeks, up behind his eyes sockets, is enough evidence that Armand, as always, is right.

Lestat kisses at the sweet little blush, right against Louis’ temple as he pets one hand through his hair. 

“My darling Louis,” he hums. “I’ve missed you so terribly. Have you missed him, too, Armand?”

“Yes, of course.” Armand follows right along. If Louis didn’t know any better he’d think the whole thing was rehearsed. Sometimes they think with such synchronicity it's uncanny. 

“Perhaps we ought to show our dear Louis how much we missed him.”

“Yes,” Armand agrees, and he’s already moving closer, fingers already ghosting up Louis’ chest. “It’s good to be home.”

[ghost-proofbaby]

GHOOOOST as much as maroon has taken over every single brain cell of mine, i can’t seem to stop thinking about 24 hours!eddie and reader lately! they still got me on a chokehold!

i was just thinking, like in the long run, were they endgame? i know they’re head over heels for each other but like.....are they in it for the long haul? what would happen if like the topic of getting married or having kids was brought up, how are they both going to react? 👀

i’m not asking or forcing you to write a blurb out of this or anything so please don’t feel pressured, i’m genuinely just curious about their lore!!! 😭 and i also miss them so much lmao might end up re-reading the series again while waiting for the next maroon chapter ❤️❤️❤️

anyway i luv u and i hope you’re having a great day!

wanna know a secret? they definitely still live rent free in my mind as well.

they were definitely end game in the long haul of things. in my mind, it's actually funny, because i've thought about them watching their friends constantly getting into relationships and those relationships constantly ending, and yet they're still there and going strong as ever while everyone is just like "...what the fuck?"

nancy and johnathan would probably end up breaking up in the twenty four hours universe. that's actually canon based on a sequel idea i had. like, we're talking not very long after the events of the main fic. nancy would go to reader and probably rant in the midst of her heartbreak "i just don't get it. i thought me and johnathan - we were gonna make it, you know? i thought we had the perfect relationship. and, no offense, but compared to you and eddie, we did." (which she obviously doesn't mean, but she's just hurt and projecting. we all know nancy was a number one reader x eddie shipper). and reader could grow insecure about it and overthink, but when she ends the day getting to gossip all about it to eddie, he just scoffs and said "excuse me? what the hell does that mean? out of spite, we're definitely gonna end up growing old together. gonna mock them from across the retirement home as i kiss all your wrinkles. that'll show them." and she's just reminded that, oh, yeah. it doesn't matter what other people think. this is her idiot for the long haul. and spoiler: it isn't spite keeping them together. it's the way eddie looks at reader like she painted the night sky just for him. it's the way eddie is the first person reader wants to talk to in nearly every scenario, the way he's the first person her eyes draw to in every room no matter how crowded. they bicker endlessly, they aren't always acting the most lovesick and nauseatingly affectionate with each other in front of others, and there's certainly been plenty of fights where the gang holds their breath for the announcement of a breakup, but they always find a way to make it through. always. they're one of those couples, ya know?

and i could also ramble about the whole marriage/kid discussion, but i actually had a short one shot about it i wanted to write! i think i've avoided posting any of the excess content i had planned for them because i don't want to beat a dead horse, you know? it's been over a year now, and even though i love and adore them, i don't want to seem like i'm milking that universe haha. if that's something y'all would like to see now even though it's been so long, i am finally out of my funk with writing them and could probably post some of those one shots! especially because the way they go about conversations like kids/marriage is so fuckin funny to me.

i luv you even more, and hope you have the most wonderful of days, friend <3 thank you for not letting one, but TWO??? of my stories take up residency in your thoughts. it means the world to me and i'm giving you all the hugs and forehead kisses <3

[kanerallels]

Hera and Ezra + Ezra as the Avatar AU

My pleasure vod! Have a little scenario that's been living rent free in my head for a while now

(Set after this)

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Hera asked, nodding to the chair across from her. “You can have some breakfast.”

Realizing how hungry he was, Ezra crossed the pavilion and dropped into the seat. Hungrily, he applied himself to the plate Hera slid to him. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “For everything.”

“My pleasure,” Hera said. “Kanan’s an old friend, so letting you two stay here is the least I can do.”

Swallowing hastily, Ezra said, “Right— where is Kanan?”

Pouring herself a cup of tea, Hera nodded out towards the garden beyond them. “Over there.”

Ezra followed her gesture towards the garden. A winding path led away from the pavilion, disappearing into the foliage. Not far away was a small pond, with a waterfall leading into it from a stream above.

Kanan was standing there, ankle deep in the water. His eyes were closed, and instead of the battered travel clothing he’d worn the day before, he wore a sleeveless green  shirt and gray pants. 

As Ezra watched, he moved, his gestures easy and graceful. While Ezra wouldn’t have recognized the movements off hand, he knew Korra, looking on inside his head, did. And the water flowing up around him, spinning in elegant spirals and curves, made it obvious.

“I’ve never seen him waterbend like this,” Ezra said slowly. “He’s only ever used it when he has to.”

“I know,” Hera said. “I asked him about it once. He says that here, he’s… safe. He doesn’t have to use it to fight, or defend himself from the hatred towards benders. This is the only place he can use his power without preparing for battle.”

“Huh,” Ezra said. “He must really trust you.”

He looked back at Hera in time to see an odd, emotional smile crossing her face. “I hope he does,” was all she said, sipping from her tea.“Ohhh,” Korra said. “So they’re in love, in love. I get it.”