#at some point he accepted it for what was and just tries to muscle through

[purposefully-lost]

Alex's shift being a little more drawn out/painful bc of how hard he struggles against it,,

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Can I request a cermy berzatto x reader ? Like the reader came to the restaurant many times and carmy look pretty flustered or something. So everyone one tries to make him have a date with the reader. Hope it’s okayyyy :))

I luv this! I’m so sorry this took a while babes ): this was so buried under my drafts

Hundred times better

“Jesus- okay, you work the kitchen, and- and I guess I’ll work the register for a little.” He told his cousin, who had managed to fuck something up while working the register. How does that even happen?

Carmy attempted to fix it, grunting in annoyance when it didn’t work. You walked in quietly, he didn’t even hear you, just saw you in the corner of his eyes.

He glanced up, mouth falling open to say something. But when he looked at you, his movements paused and his mouth stayed open. You gave him a sweet smile, and a blush came over his face.

He snapped out of it, nodding and stuttering. “Uh- sorry, I’m just… having a bit of…” the cash register popped open, he sighed. “Trouble. What can I get for you?”

“You’re fine! you got it or…?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, I’ll… fix this later.” He waved it off, looking back up at you, hands on his hips as he waited for your order. He listened, ringing it up.

“Alright, uhm… your total is 18.45.” He said, his eyes looking you up and down, his hands went over his face, giving you a small smile when he took your money.

“Thank you!” You told him, and even your voice had him weak in the knees. It was like honey, sweet.

You sat down, waiting for it to be brought out as you read through your book. You ignored the noises that came from the men.

“You fix it yet?” Richie yelled from inside the kitchen, looking at Carmy.

“Yes I f- yes!” He shouted, rolling his eyes as he entered the kitchen again. You glanced up, a small smile gracing your features. He was cute, you thought, watching him open the door, watching his muscles flex and his veins pop out his head. Angry, but cute.

You make it your life’s goal to come in often, so often that some of them learn your name. You know Richie, Sydney, Carmen, and a nice woman named Tina.

Carmen- or Carmy as most of them called him, was the one that intrigued you the most of all. He was the cute one- the one who smiled at no one but you, the one who complimented you every so often. You learned he was the owner.

And after a while, his chefs got tired of seeing Carmy angry and pissed off- more than he usually was. They quickly figured out what was wrong. He had a giant, fat, crush on you.

He didn’t want to accept it, but he knew the truth. In his heart.

He was packing up one day, cleaning up as Richie came up to him. He pat him on the back, Carmy jolted and shoved his hands off of him, glaring at him and beginning to walk towards the door.

“What?” He snapped finally, turning to Richie when he felt eyes burning in the back of his skull. They were outside, cars racing by.

“You should ask her out.”

“ What are you talking about, dude?” He furrowed an eyebrow.

“Y/n.”

Carmy rolled his eyes, letting out a huff and turning around.

“I’m serious! Think she seriously likes you. I catch her starin’ at you a lot when you’re not looking.” He told Carmy, wrapping an arm around him.

“No.” He grumbled out.

“Dude. Just ask her out. Sugar agrees.”

“I’m not asking her out while I’m working.”

“Then do it on your break or something.” He said, glancing over at his car. “But for real, tomorrow, I’m excepting to hear about a date.” He pointed, Carmy rolling his eyes and waving him off as he walked away and got into his car.

—-

The next day, it came naturally to the boy. He was sitting outside, a cigarette in between his lips, he blew out the smoke when he saw you form the corner of his eyes.

You were next to the alley, petting a little dog you have found, abandoned on the side of the road.

You didn’t even notice him until he came up.

“Uh, hey.” He spoke casually, throwing his cigarette onto the ground, smashing it with his foot. You looked up and over at him, smiling.

“Hey, Carmen. You on your break?”

“Yeah. Yeah. What uh.. who’s this little guy?”

“I don’t know. Saw him on the side of the road and I felt bad.” You told him, standing up, looking down at the dog and back at hjm.

“Oh.” He didn’t know how to respond.

“Yeah, might take him to the vet or something. But, how was your day? I was actually just about to come in.” You said with a giggle.

“It’s been going…” he told you, scratching the back of his neck and nodding. “How was yours?”

“It’s been okay.” You shrugged. “Well, I don’t wanna take up your time, and I should probably-“ you glanced down at the dog. “Get him in and stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah of course.”

You began to walk away, the dog following you before he called your name again.

“Uh- y/n?” He stuttered out.

“Yeah?” You turned around.

“Would you… wanna go out with me? Like… any time?”

You smiled at him again. “I would love that, Carmy.” You told him. And with his words, your day got a hundred times better.

[daenysx]

hi lovely ! i have a request ! i'm a sucker for comforting others so could you do another fic like glossy eyes of a pretty boy but sfw and slightly different? i was thinking maybe james loses a quidditch match and maybe has a panic attack or is just really worked up so rem and siri have to come get us to go calm him down :((( he's my baby i love him so bad !!! and ofc if you don't want to you don't have to !!! ty my lovely ! <3

i hope you enjoy, thank you for requesting, angel <33333

james potter x fem!reader, sfw (they are just kissing through the end but nothing else)

you're trying to focus on what you're writing when sirius appears. his hair is messed up from running, you look at him through curious eyes. "what's wrong?" you ask.

"hey, gorgeous." he says first. he takes a seat next to you and tries to catch his breath. "sorry- i'll tell you in a second."

"do you want some water?" you ask, giggling. he shakes his head. "i'm fine, i'm fine."

"something happened?"

"what's that?" he asks you before answering your question. his finger points the books in front of you.

"i'm trying to finish the potions essay." you say. "it's not going really well."

"um- do you mind taking a break?" sirius asks, his breathing turns into normal each second. "prongs might need your company."

"what happened to him?" you worry. "is he okay?"

sirius tries to fix his hair with useless fingers. "yeah, but- he's a bit upset. the meeting we had for the next match didn't go well, the new ones in team kinda messed with his head, i guess."

"where is he?" you ask him as you start collecting your things. sirius takes your book bag to his shoulder as he leads the way to their room.

you knew james was nervous for the next match, it's against slytherin and most of the time a fight or an argument is inevitable. what's weird is that the argument happening inside the gryffindor team. james hates when something goes wrong in the game because of personal conflicts, he doesn't like mixing things together.

the walk is not long, sirius walks with you until the common room. you can spot remus sitting on the couch as you step in. his arms are crossed, his long legs placed on the small table in front.

"hi, remus." you say when he sees you.

"hi." he says with a remuslike smile. "thanks for coming so fast."

"is he okay?" you ask him. sirius puts your bag on the couch before settling down next to remus.

"he's okay, besides going insane over the match." remus answers. "i've never seen prongs panicking too much, i mean it's just a game right?"

"it's never just a game, beloved moony." sirius shakes his head. "the team is literally being sabotaged by itself, it's worse than losing against slytherin."

"i'm gonna check up on him." you tell them, accepting their brief nods as answer.

you knock on the door before entering. james doesn't reply. when you open the door and take a gentle step inside, he lifts his head. he doesn't say anything until you walk towards him.

"hi, jamie." you say, softly. "can i come in?"

it's normally a stupid question, you already came in. you just don't want to bother james if he wants to be alone. he nods. he's sitting on his messed up bed, his glasses thrown aside just like his tie. his shirt lost a few top buttons, and you can see the red in his pretty eyes when you're this close.

you stand in front of james, almost between his parted legs. he extends a shaky hand to pull you closer. the room reflects his mood, you think, you've never seen it so messy.

james looks at you briefly before putting his head on your belly. his weak arms are wrapped around your hips to keep you, your hands quickly go to his head to let him know it's okay. he can cry if he wants to, or scream, even though he seems like he's lacking the energy for it. he stays there until he breathes right. you rub the tense muscles of his shoulder with your one hand as your other hand strokes his hair.

"thank you for coming." he says with a rough voice. "i know you had work to do."

you cup his cheek to lift his head. your thumb rubs the angry tears on his face until it's dry. "my work isn't more important than you."

"thanks."

you give him a smile. it doesn't reach your eyes but james will understand. "do you wanna talk about it? the boys said a few things about the match but i don't really know what happened."

james shakes his head. "i can tell you later." he says. "i really don't wanna hear anything about the bloody match."

you give him a quick nod. he reaches for your hand.

"can you-" he sniffs. "can we lay down for a minute?"

"of course, baby." you say. "for as long as you want."

you help james put his head on your chest as you find a nice position to cuddle him. your arms around him feel safe, you can't see his face properly but you know he tries to calm down by taking in your familiar scent.

he's so precious, your boy. you like how passionate he is for the things he loves, he pushes himself hard until he is where he wants to be. you know it's stressful, being a solid part of a team and trying to make new people get along. james is the sunshine, he's easygoing and charming, but when he gets upset, it's hard to turn back to his normal self. he needs some time.

you play with his hair until he goes lax in your arms. his pent up energy slowly disappears. he drags his hand to your waist to rub the skin he can reach through your shirt.

you can almost count his eyelashes with this angle. he's gorgeous, even when he's mad. you think this is the real magic. he truly is a magical being, and it has nothing to do with the things he can do with his wand. you like how he's deep in his emotions, all of them, he lives bravely, never backs down from feeling anything. he'll be okay, he can stay here as long as he wants.

the kisses you press on his hair are soothing, you need to lift your head to reach him but it's fine. there are no words, just you and just him.

james sits on bed with slow motions when it becomes bearable. you watch him. "i'm okay." he says. "i'm sorry for worrying you."

"we were worried about you, but it's okay if you feel better." you say to him. he gets as comfortable as he can to settle down on top of your body to give you a good kiss, the kind of kiss that messes with his breathing and quickens his heartbeat. you cup his cheeks, thumbs drawing half moons on his skin. he's so soft now, no hurt feelings left. he closes his eyes to you, his lips conveying every thought he doesn't need to talk about anymore.

"everything will work out with the team." you say when he breaks the kiss. "you only need to be patient, my love. you'll do so well. you'll win the match."

james nods before putting his head on the crook of your neck. "remus is saying the same thing." he tells you. "i know we can beat them and- i only want everyone in team to feel that way."

"i think they already do." you believe what you say. "it must be stressful for everyone."

"yes. probably." james accepts. "we need more time."

"that's right." you agree. "can i bring you something to eat? i think we missed dinner."

"oh." he lifts his head. he was so deep in his sulking, he didn't realize how much time you spent next to him. "i'm sorry, angel. i totally forgot. i'll go get us something to eat."

"i'm not really hungry." you smile. "but food always makes you feel better, so..."

you're teasing and suddenly everything feels normal. james kisses your cheek and leaves his bed. "you always make me feel better." he says, such a romantic, he's down bad. "i'm so lucky to have you."

you blush under his gaze. your fingers try to fix the buttons of his shirt. "come on, potter, i decided i'm starving now. you also need to see sirius and remus, they were worried."

james holds your hand. "let's go then."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Summer Breeze 6

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad’s friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You sleep sitting up. Aside from the stiffness in your muscles, your stomach is gurgling from the greasy meal. The night fraught with worry and restlessness leaves your head even more cloudy than before. It’s real, you know it, and yet you just don’t want to accept it. 

The doctor comes after 8am. He checks your father’s vital and makes some notes on his chart. Andy asks about his condition as you can’t bring yourself to speak. He looks ragged and tired, you must not come off any better. 

“We’ll have to wait until he’s stable to make any further determination. We’ll need to test his cognizance along with his physical capabilities. The injury like has caused a TBI, meaning the effects will vary. He’ll need to be monitored well beyond his time here,” the doctor explains as Andy listens intently. You cling to every word but your mind is reeling. “Best to discuss what sort of therapies would be covered by insurance.” 

“Yeah, I figured,” Andy says, “thanks, doctor.” 

“Of course. You did a good job getting him here quickly,” the man in the white coat pauses and sends you definitive look, “keeping pressure on him. You both saved his life.” 

Your eyes sting and your nose burns. You can't cry. Not yet. Once you crack, you know that’s it. You won’t be able to stop. Your cheeks tug and you thank him, swallowing down the swell of horror.  

“Andy,” you eke out as the doctor leaves, “I couldn’t get through to my mom. Do you mind if I try again?” 

“Hm, I haven’t charged my phone,” he slides his cell from his pocket, “I’m at twelve percent. Could do the trick.” 

“Oh, maybe I could ask the nurse’s desk. I think I saw a patient phone around here.” 

“Good idea,” he nods. “I texted Jacob but I don’t think he has service up there. We’ll need to go grab some clothes so how about we do that today?” 

“I... I can’t leave my dad,” you insist. 

“Sweetheart, they said he’s going to be out for some time.” 

“He shouldn’t wake up alone,” you argue. 

“Alright,” he shows his palm appeasingly, “I’ll drive up, grab your stuff, and we’ll get everything else sorted when I get back.” 

“I can do this,” you avow, as much to yourself as him, “you’ve done enough.” 

“Right, I know, you’re a strong girl. But what do you do next? Once you talk to mom. You gotta call insurance, right? Do you have what they need? You’ll need the plan number, that’s probably in his wallet, right? You’ll at least need proof of ID. We brought him in in his trunks and nothing else. All that’s up at the cottage,” he shakes his head, “I don’t doubt you can handle it but a little help can’t hurt.” 

Your eyes widen and you sigh. You drag your hands down your cheek, “yeah...” 

“You can’t think of it all right now. That’s expected. You should worry about him. So I’ll deal with the details.” 

“Andy,” you utter, “I...” you look at your dad and get up, shuffling to his bedside. You take his hand, careful not to tug the tubes and tape, “I owe you.” 

“It’s what people do for each other, right? I’m a dad too. I know if anything happened to me, Jacob would be lost.” 

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” you crackle from your dry throat. 

“Try to rest if you can,” he sniffs and scratches his beard, “I’ll be quick. As quick as possible.” 

“Sure,” you squeeze your dad’s hand, barely hearing Andy. You just want him to wake up, or maybe you can wake up from this nightmare. 

🌅

You force yourself out of the room to ask the nurse about a phone. She points you towards a worn phone down a few halls meant for emergency calls. You punch in your mom’s number and wait for it to dial. It takes six tries for her to answer but you won’t give up this time. 

“Hey, what’s up?” She answers casually. 

You don’t answer right away. You can hear the lightness in her voice and the rustle of unknown movement. She’s busy with something or someone. Probably her latest fling. 

“Mom,” you scratch out, “it’s dad.” 

“What is it now? Tell me he’s not drank himself into the tank again. He’s too old for that.” 

“Mom,” you say firmer than before, “mom, he’s hurt.” 

“Hurt. Well, call the paramedics, I don’t know,” she giggles and you sigh. 

“We’re at the hospital,” you raise your voice, “he’s... he’s not awake. He hit his head. And I... I’m scared.” 

She’s silent. You hear her move around and she excuses herself. A door clicks on her end and she scoffs, “well, what do you want me to do about it? He’s your father.” 

You’re stunned by her callous response. 

“And I’m your daughter,” you insist, “what... you should...” you shake your head and deflate. “Well, mom,” your voice cracks, “I’m sorry I interrupted fun for something so stupid as this.” 

“Honey, please, I’m a bit shocked is all,” she squeaks, “I mean what can I do from so far away. For my ex-husband of all people? You’re an adult. You need to learn how to handle these things.” 

“Gee, thanks, mom,” you sneer and slam the phone on the hook. 

You don’t know why you expected any different. You’re not at her house because she told you plainly that she didn’t want you spoiling her fun. She gave up trying to be a parent the minute you turned eighteen. 

You roll your eyes back against a new wave of tears; these one angry. You guess you just need to grow up. It’s your turn to take care of your dad. 

[xjulixred45x]

Lancelot (4Kota) with an S/o similar to Mitsuri Kanroji(KNY)...

Like, reader is probably a hybrid between human and giant, who just looks very human and so on, but has the strength of her giant relative, compressed muscle. She was probably even from some town like Benwick or even lived near the fairies.

but then she started interacting with humans and precisely because of her human appearance (very cute) they accepted her a lot. even with her colossal strength (they thought it was her magical power).

I have a idea/feeling that she would know Lancelot from his travels with Jericho at first por when he come back from his first journey, just the reader could realize his mixed descent and would constantly bug him to be her friend.

I'm not going to lie, at first Lancelot found her a little quite annoying because of her cheerfull attitude and her insistence on being friends, but when he saw her heart he could tell that she was sincere (apart from the fact that the reader would stop if it was too much for him) so he decided at least to let her be close.

reader was someone very bright! which contrasted VERY MUCH with Lancelot's serious and stoic attitude, she would talk and talk and talk to him about things that were happening in the town, something cute she saw the other day, the huge meal that the bartender served her and that she ate it all, etc

Lancelot would just sit still and listen with his typical :| face, but in reality it amuses him that reader is surprised by such everyday things.

Even if Lancelot said that the reader was "annoying" he left out actions that showed the opposite, such as showing her things he brought from his missions, showing her his "Sin" form and in general he listened to her and even gave her advice when she asked for it.

He liked having someone so sincere for so long, but he was pretty bad at saying it verbally, so he just showed it through actions. He's a tsundere kind of guy

(imagine if he gave the reader some type of garment/ornament like in that scene with Mitsuri and Obanai🥺it would be so cute).

Reader also tends to get emotional as they grow up, when she cries, she CRY A LOT, she almost scared Lancelot away when one time she came crying with him, he was ready to kill someone, but the reader had just seen a very big snake in her shed and she got scared😅 (a very common nickname of Lancelot to the reader is "cry baby" or "dork").

By the time they are teenagers, Lancelot not only tolerates the reader more, but also appreciates her a lot, not only because she sticks to him like glue, but because she is very sincere in what she thinks and says, someone he trusts will say the true.

For this reason, Lancelot is quite cautious with the people around her, even if he appreciates and loves her, he recognizes that she lacks a little understanding that not everyone is a good person, especially when she develops a certain phase of being in love.

Although Lancelot didn't spend much time in the city, he tried to give the reader "subtle" clues about which guys were worth it (almost none) and which weren't (almost all). Fortunately or unfortunately, the reader distanced herself from almost all of them except for ONE especially despicable one. But he couldn't really make her stop, so he just rolled her eyes at every mention of the boy.

Lancelot understands that the reader wants to fall in love, in the future maybe get married and start a family, but could she PLEASE stop going after guys who aren't worth it?

The breaking point occurs when THIS JERK not only rejected Reader(that was the least), but despises her for being a giant, telling her horrible things like "only a bear would marry you" and leaving the reader heartbroken.

Obviously the guy doesn't get very far, but the words cut deep into the reader, who never really saw her strength as something bad until that moment (or her big appetite, or "unfeminine" habits) and begins to wonder, is she the one wrong?

Lancelot (even though he is somewhat bad with emotions) had to interfere and not let the reader get to her head, so what if they were rare hybrids? He wouldn't change anything about how she was a reader, NOTHING, just as she wouldn't change anything about him.

It's a nice cute little moment.

If we talk about the current relationship, it is like the dynamic of "sunshine" and "sunshine protector" (better known as "if they're smile disappears YOU DISAPPEAR). or simply an odd couple. The reader tends to be gentler with him group but somewhat clumsy while Lancelot the most responsible but much less gentle...

Even if Reader knows how to fight, there is no way she can match Lancelot's level, so she is more of a rearguard fighter. It should not be taken lightly either. Believe me, Lancelot knows...

they're like:

Lancelot: someone is going to die--(reader covers his mouth with unhuman streng)

reader: OF FUN!

Lancelot and reader take full advantage of reader's ridiculous strength! either for the benefit of people (such as clearing paths or moving heavy stuck objects, for fights, etc) or for certain little jokes.

Lancelot probably encourages the reader to basically train her giant skills, just in case she has to defend the town she lives in or herself. I don't think he can teach her how to use "heavy metal" but he can definitely give some advice regarding elementary handling.

(Lancelot has been carried princess style by reader more times than the other way around, it's fun and cute to see).

Lancelot fully supports the great reader's appetite! She burns a lot of calories with her great strength, so she needs to eat a lot, if reader convinces him enough, they can compete to see who eats the most, they have a great series of ties.

when reader really fights, she's actually pretty good! Only of course, when she eventually reaches her point of greatest exhaustion, she begins to despair and thinks she is going to die😅 Lancelot tells her half jokingly/half lovingly that she is a crybaby, but that she did quite well on her own.

(by the way, only Lancelot can call the reader a crybaby, anyone else gets a hit on the back of the head).

In general, it's like the typical "opposites attract" but it's actually quite healthy✨

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[lightlycareless]

Do you think at any point in Naoya’s life that he was ticklish and do you think that as an adult he might still be ticklish? Lately, I’ve been thinking about how if Naoya maybe had one part of his body that was still pretty ticklish that he tries to keep quiet about since he doesn’t wanna embarrass himself until somehow Y/N finds out 🤭

Heya!!

Aww, this was unbearably fluffy cute ngl. Anything that has Naoya acting like an actual, dorkish human is enough to have my heart all ajghajksgha uwu. Hope you enjoy this small thing I wrote!

warnings: fluff. mentions of pregnancy. .....pee I guess. hahahahahaha it's meant to be cute, everyday pregnancy things I swear lmao. a bit of highschool au.

happy reading!!

Ticklish Naoya is one of those things that no one ever saw happening mainly because… well, it’s not like anyone is testing it out to see if it’s true, you know?

No one had it in their minds to approach the heir, place their hands on his sides and tickle him to see if he’d have some kind of reaction.

No one, except that is, you.

It was a silly bet, whether ignited by your curiosity or perhaps your need to be unnecessarily close to him, either way, you’d find yourself in that exact situation one fateful afternoon, under the pretense of wanting to get some hands-on training experience with the only other excellent sorcerer you trusted!

And of course, having a small crush on you as well but yet to confess it, Naoya didn’t deny the opportunity, completely unaware of your ulterior motivations, until it was too late.

“You said you wanted to… test your accuracy?”

“Mmhmm.” You innocently nod. “I’ve been having issues with my aim as of lately, maybe I need to be tested under pressure? No holding back punches if you know what I mean!”

“Are you sure?” Naoya asks, hesitant to pursue this course of action if there was the slightest possibility you were to end up hurt, and worse—by him.

“Yeah! I’m sure.” You insist. “We won’t have to do much, I just wanted to test this out.”

“Alright, then. What do you want me to do?”

“Just… stand there, first—” you say, carefully gently guiding him into position; it’s almost surprising to see him willingly go along with your ideas, for he was often… dismissive of others. Well, he did say he didn’t find you as annoying as the rest, but was that all there is to it? A part of you hopes not.

While your initial purpose was to find out if Naoya was ticklish, you couldn’t help but get a bit sidetracked by the firmness of his muscles underneath your palms, his intoxicating scent you’ve grown to solely associate with him regardless of where you found it, and why not, the height difference that became even clearer now that you were a few mere inches away from him.

All these things, besides others, inevitably made you wonder how it would feel to be embraced by him, held tight against his chest as he rested his head above yours, professing his affection for you as he swore to never let —

“What are you doing, Y/N?” he asks, cutting through your daydreams.

“Oh—Nothing!” You chirp, scrambling to hide the embarrassment of your cheeks by looking away, to no avail of course, because for an equally smitten man like him, he could be nothing but attentive to you, pondering if he’d done something in this short moment of silence to enact that kind of response from you, or more likely… how adorable you looked, his mind quickly assuming this would be your reaction to when he finally kissed you.

Unless this was caused by someone completely different. He held no proof of this short-lived accusation, but his mind was eager to accept this burning jealousy, loathing the notion that you already belonged to—

“Are you ready, Naoya?” It was your turn to distract him, Naoya blinking as you take position before him.

“Ye—Yes. As ready as I’ll… ever be.”

Going back to your initial purpose, you had to be very careful not to show your cards if you wanted things to go as you wanted.

So, you played along, asking him to do the things you wanted in hope of getting his guard down, which worked, Naoya following your lead, down to the smallest details… until it was finally time for the grand finale, the moment you were eagerly waiting for!

After a few rounds of training and acting like you were still unhappy with your results, you’d find yourself in a position where Naoya’s back faced you, in a completely innocent, unsuspected manner that almost had you feeling bad for misusing his trust: but your curiosity proved to be far greater, much stronger, and when the opportunity presented itself…

You tackle him! Hands quickly landing on his sides to tickle and pinch him as much as you could to earn a reaction from him, which you were joyfully granted, much to your enjoyment and surprise.

“No way, Naoya—you’re actually ticklish?!” you’d giggle, continuing your attack as he began to squirm underneath your hold.

“Y/N—what in the—what are you doing?!” Naoya gasps, confused by your abrupt actions—was this part of your plan all along?! Or did someone—did someone pay you to it?! Is this being recorded??! “Stop it, now!!”

But you didn’t, no matter how red his face got or how much he attempted to pull you away, you simply couldn’t, because his reaction was far better than anything you imagined!

“I would’ve never thought!” you continued, enjoying the fluster on his face which you naturally thought cute, or his laughter… things you’ve never seen on him before that just made your infatuation grow even more.

“Enough!” Managing to regain his strength through your attack and embarrassment, Naoya is finally able to take your hands and pull them away from him, moving you before him to place you in the same position as him.

You don’t need anything else to happen to understand the gravity of your miscalculations, to remember there was a reason why everyone urged you to steer away from provoking Naoya, as tempting as that was, because one way or another, you’d always end up paying the price.

Just as he intended to do so now.

“Let’s see if you like that!”

“No—wait, Naoya—!” and so, he pressed his fingers to your sides, erupting a loud laughter from you which you desperately tried to hold back, whether by pressing your lips together or trying to ease his hold on you, but he’s always been much stronger than you; and whatever struggle you put up he quickly squashed, all for the sake of revenge.

Though that desire would disappear soon after upon hearing your sweet laughter for the first time (so close, that is) alongside your warmth and scent that reminded Naoya why he harbored such strong feelings for you in the first place… never wanting this moment to end, not even when you uttered the following.

“Naoya, stop it! Seriously!!” you laughed. “You’re—you’re going to make me pee!!”

And then, whether because you wanted to highlight your urgency, or simply because it felt right to do so, your face turns around, raising your gaze to his and locking on each other’s eyes—

A simple, quick gesture, but more than enough to make everything stop, your laughter, his smirk, his hands…

In favor realizing the “compromising” position your innocent prank had put the two—the closeness, the… the intimacy!

A fact that has you instinctively pushing away from him, face red (and not from laughing too much, not anymore) as you try to push aside these growing feelings of embarrassment, thinking perhaps it was best to walk away now before this situation grew into a bigger misunderstanding!

Well, fortunately for you, the answer would easily present itself when he said the following statement.

“Y/N—Did you—Did you pee yourself?”

“WHAT?!” You shrieked, Naoya flinches.

Of all things he could’ve said, he just had to go with that one.

“Why—why would you even say that?!”

“I mean—you—"

But you didn’t even prove Naoya a moment to explain himself before you were already out of the training grounds, swiftly making your way across the hallways and back to your dorms, where your startled roommate would worriedly ask if everything was ok, why were you so exalted, and weren’t you supposed to be with Naoya?!

“I just did the most embarrassing thing in the world!” you cried as you plummeted on the bed, pulling the cover over your head as you wished the earth would just swallow you whole! “I made a clown out of myself in front of the boy I like, and I will never, ever be able to take that back!!”

“Y/N, surely you’re exaggerating—” she attempts to comfort you.

“No! You don’t get it!” you gasp back. “I’m never showing my face ever again, ever!”

Your roommate simply sighs, taking a seat by your side and patting your back.

“… Oh, he’ll hate me and make fun of me forever. I just know it!”

Unless… fast forward to a few years, you might be proven wrong.

“You know what I just remembered, Y/N?” Naoya says, looking up from whatever report he was going through that evening.

“What?” you murmur, taking another bite of your endless craving—mochi.

“That one time you tried to tickle me, but it backfired so badly, you ended up peeing.” He smirks, your face instantly turns red.

“What?! I didn’t—I didn’t pee!!” you cried. “That’s not—You and I remember that day very differently!”

“Really?” he snickers. “I remember you avoiding me immediately after, can you blame me for thinking so?”

“That’s—I was just embarrassed for being so close to you!! And to make it all worse, you had to say that! Of all things, seriously! Did you actually think I was going to stay around ???” you fret. “I mean… I genuinely thought you were never going to speak to me again after that.”

“You know it would take much more than that for me to stop talking to you.” Naoya says. “Though it’s quite ironic now, isn’t?”

“What is?”

“You tend to do that quite frequently nowadays.”

You blush.

“Only because I’m pregnant, you idiot!!” you frown, smacking him on the arm, Naoya laughs. “Hey, it’s not funny!”

“But it is true, my love.”

“You’re making it sound like I have some severe bladder issues…” you exclaim. “I’m carrying your baby; in case you’ve forgotten!”

“How could I forget I’m having a family with the love of my life?” he says, moving closer to you to take you into his arms, placing his hands over your growing belly.

“Sweet talk isn’t going to save you, Naoya…” you frown, even when angry, your hands still seek his touch.

“Perhaps not, but maybe… chocolate will?”

“…And?”

“And maybe some diapers too—” he jests, you gasp.

“That’s it, you’re sleeping on the couch!”

“I’m just kidding, princess!” He laughs, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Nothing but an innocent joke.”

“Won’t be so innocent if I ignore you for real this time!”

“Then I guess you won’t be eating those chocolate I got you from that place you love…”

“… those from… Kyoto?”

Naoya nods.

And just like that, the whole ordeal was forgotten immediately after.

Until he finds out something else to tease you with, because just as they said, whatever you unleash on Naoya, he’ll unleash on you, tenfold.

relentless naoya is relentless. he's a total tease, about time I wrote it. Also, DAMN I think I've never written y/n being totally smitten by him??? like pinning after him?? it's either her towards geto or him towards y/n. lmao

anyways, i'm still in that fluffy domestic mood, and this was the perfect opportunity to show that. akgasgasjiga I mean, it's cute right??? I like it. y/n being spoiled by naoya........ though he's a bit cruel sometimes.... haha. aw, I love them.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this!! Thank you so much for your patience!! 🥺💖 I really did enjoy writing this, as I always do with all the things y'all send me.

Take care, and hope to see you soon!!!

Edit: omg I never really answered your question, but yesssss I do think he was ticklish. But let's be real, who is going to know that?????? You'd probably come to find that one out when hugging him and sensing him tense up. :) for a variety of reasons. Hehe

[starlight-eclipsed]

Rockets Pointed Up at the Stars (Pt 2/2)

Part I

Despite what Phantom had implied, tracking down Batman wasn’t done in an instant.

Sure, they’d be back seconds after when they left. But with time travel in the mix, that could be hours or days apart. They’d already followed him back to his initial landing time, when Neanderthals were still around (and wow, was there a difference between factually knowing some people had been around since the dawn of humanity and physically seeing Vandal Savage in the flesh as a caveman). According to the trail left by Clockwork, the ghostly guardian of the timestream, they were getting close.

Apparently Bruce couldn’t make things easy and was also making jumps through time, which if left unchecked would cause the timeline collapse that Clockwork had recruited Phantom for. Specifically Phantom, as it turns out the thief that liked messing with him on weekends was also the Master of Space and the King of everything.

(Phantom insisted it was just a title, and he was only king of the Ghost Zone. It just so happened that the Ghost Zone was also known as the Infinite Realms, which contained every reality of every universe in existence.

And he’d won that title by defeating the previous ruler in single combat.

The High King had to scramble to catch Tim when his knees gave out at the realization that he had unknowingly gone toe to toe with someone who made Darkseid look like a toddler in a sandbox. What the fuck, Phantom.) 

As of now, they were waiting for the actual Blackbeard’s ship to dock to investigate the fabled Black Pirate he supposedly fought a week ago, whose description matched Bruce’s. Phantom had gone to grab them something to eat while they waited in a tavern, leaving Tim to save his seat. If someone told him even a week ago that this was where he’d be, Tim would’ve interrogated them for hours to try to figure out what it meant.

But no, he was just sitting at a table in the 18th century, a medallion from the Master of Time hung around his neck, waiting for his hero-turned-king-gone-rogue to return with food while they waited for Blackbeard the legendary pirate to show up. Jason would probably kill to be here in his place.

Tim was broken out of his thoughts when Phantom returned, two bowls of soup in hand and balancing an additional plate of tough-looking bread on his forearm.

They’d been forced to ditch their masks when Puritans tried to have them hanged a century ago, now dressing in more accurate clothing to better blend in. Phantom had apologized for discovering Tim’s real name, going as far as to reveal his own secret identity: a black haired blue-eyed teen named Danny.

“Heads up, it’s gonna be either too salty or bland as wood. I’m pretty sure the cook wanted to strangle me for asking too many questions about the ingredients.”

Tim snorted, accepting his bowl, “Is that why we don’t get spoons?”

“Nah, the owner doesn’t trust customers to return the utensils. Drink from the bowl, though you might want to soak your bread if you don’t wanna pull a muscle chewing it.”

“Noted.” Tim dared to take a sip, mulling over the taste. It wasn’t anywhere near Alfred’s level, but a step above his own adventures in the kitchen before getting a hard ban post-pancake incident. It tasted closer to brine than soup, but it went surprisingly well with the bread.

Phantom hummed in pleasure, proving yet again that his standards for food consisted of ‘isn’t actively resisting consumption’. Tim could hardly judge him for it, seeing as his own bar wasn't much higher.

“So, I’d say we have an hour or two until our man arrives. Want to go over the plan again?”

Tim shrugged. “Unless it’s changed from ‘confirm Bruce was already here before following the nearest skip in time’, I think we’re good.”

Phantom nodded, silence falling over them as they ate their way through dinner. Tim kept an ear out for trouble, but the tavern was quite peaceful this time in the evening. It was likely to change once the Queen Anne's Revenge finished docking, but for now he’d savor the ambiance.

“Wanna play twenty questions?”

He blinked, refocusing on Phantom sitting across from him. “Huh?”

“I just figured it might pass the time. Twenty questions, no lies, though you can reject them if you don’t want to answer.”

Tim considered it before nodding, “Sure. How old are you?”

Phantom grinned, “Seventeen, same as you. Why Robin?”

“I wanted to help Batman after the previous one died. Nobody else would intervene, so I stepped in. Why Phantom?”

“Okay, hear me out…it’s a pun.”

Tim paused, gesturing for him to elaborate.

“Before I was half-ghost, my last name was Fenton. So as a ghost, Danny Fenton became—”

“Danny Phantom,” Tim groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were subtle.”

“Hey, nobody expects the dead guy to moonlight as a living person. Sunlight? Whatever. Favorite hobbies?”

“Photography and skateboarding. Favorite power?”

“Ooh, that’s a hard one. I’d have to say flight. Nothing beats flying at night. Sexuality?”

Tim spluttered, making Phantom laugh as he blushed. “What the heck?!”

“Hey, you can always skip,” the asshole offered.

“No, it just caught me off guard. I’m bi. You?”

“Pan. And trans, while we’re at it. Ghosts can shapeshift, so I got a perfect transition at the low cost of death.”

Tim snorted, “Death is an ally.”

“Absolutely, it comes for us all,” he winked. “If you had a single power, what would it be?”

“Something so I wouldn’t need to sleep. I can manage otherwise. What determines the things you take?”

Phantom grinned, “Once a detective. But seriously, I just aim for things that look cool and won’t be missed too much. Some people will kick up a fuss over their trash if they think it’s worth stealing. Thoughts on soulmates?”

He stopped, some part of him catching on how serious the otherwise silly sounding question was phrased. As if the way he answered this could mean life or death. “You mean, a couple acting like they’re made for each other?”

“Ah, I wasn’t sure whether you had them in your universe. On my Earth, everyone is born with some kind of connection to at least one other person. Shared thoughts, a timer countdown to the time they first meet, stuff like that. Platonic or romantic, they were called soulmates.”

“So…someone you’re destined to meet and get along with? Is it magic based?”

A nod. “Humanity’s done research but they haven’t concluded on that yet. I asked an Ancient whose domain was centered around it, and they said it was determined by a soul’s resonance. I don’t know the specifics, but something about how all souls that resonate a certain way are born with soulmarks, so that they have an easier time finding each other. There are studies about how soulmates tend to understand each other easier, but other than that there’s no empirical proof that they’re different from any other relationship.”

Tim considered it. What it might’ve been like, to be told the second he met Dick that fateful night at the circus, ‘this boy will permanently alter the course of your life’. To have been able to approach Batman that first time, point to his wrist, and automatically be listened to instead of resorting to blackmail. How much easier it would have been to avoid the misunderstandings that defined their whole family.

Then again, it would be just his luck to have been born in that world and not have any soul connections to the Wayne family, making him work twice as hard for the same level of trust. Or to be born without resonance at all, and be left knowing that he was truly beyond reach. What would that do to him, in a society where people could point at the worst criminals and say ‘even that monster has someone they love’? To be soulmates with a genuinely terrible person?

“It sounds like a mixed blessing,” Tim said, meeting Danny’s gaze directly. “I would love to have someone like that by my side, and I’d be terrified of being defined by it.”

Danny leaned back, wearing a self-deprecating smile that Tim was quickly learning to recognize. “Yeah, that’s fair. Your turn.”

“What…what is your personal experience with soulmates? If I’m allowed to ask.”

He hissed out a breath through his teeth. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought you’d say.”

“I can ask something else?”

Danny waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll answer, just lemme figure out how to put it.”

“I’ll return our dishes while you think through what you want to say.” Tim stood with his empty bowl, easily accepting the other bowl and plate as they were handed to him.

Walking back, Tim cataloged the people hanging around the tavern. A group of friends huddled around a dozen plates, decked out in gear that made it look like they just finished having some grand adventure. The bartender, a sly smile on her face as a drunken man clumsily flirted with his own wife. The cook instructing a boy to retrieve the dishes from Tim, sending a calculating glance in Danny’s direction before nodding at Tim and turning back to the fire.

Tim didn’t spend a lot of time in public anymore. His fame attracted far too much attention now that the press could consistently recognize him. But maybe once things settled back down again, he’d try civilian life again. There was something different about living alongside the people he worked to save, instead of far above looking down.

By the time he returned to his seat, Danny looked ready to talk.

“My soulmate rejected me when we were little.”

Tim blinked. “You can do that?”

“Ah…sorta? Depending on the connection, one side can choose to shut it down. Mine let us exchange messages. I was a dumb kid, and sent out a ton every day to try and get any kind of response that they were out there. They got sick of it and blocked me.” Danny laughed, but it wasn't very funny.

“I’m sorry. That sounds awful.”

“Don’t be. I annoy everyone—it was only a matter of time before I did something to chase them away.”

“Would you stop doing that?”

Danny blinked, tilting his head in silent question.

“Look, I get that you went through a lot of shit before coming to Gotham. But you keep acting like it’s a given that everyone you meet will be awful to you, and it sucks to hear you talk like that when I’m having fun with you. It wasn't your fault, so stop claiming credit for it. If I can’t justify losing Robin, you can’t justify being abandoned.”

“...alright then.” Danny huffed, folding his arms and pouting. “Neither of us can talk shit about ourselves.”

The twinkle in his eyes was enough for Tim to know he got through to him.

— - —

Tim leaned up against a fence in the Wild West, shifting uncomfortably in his dust coated clothes. Danny was perched beside him, smugly radiating a cool breeze that may very well have been the only thing keeping Tim upright in the summer sun.

“There’s too much sunlight here, it’s unnatural.”

“That’s just your Gothamite showing, city-boy.”

“Fuck off.”

Danny’s laughter had become a staple of the past few days spent traveling through history. In turn, Tim found himself happier than he’d been in ages, making sarcastic comments about anything that caught his eye in an attempt to get Danny to laugh more.

So far, he’d yet to fail to bring at least a smile to the other’s face.

Right now they were in the late 19th century, following rumors that Bruce had somehow crossed paths with Vandal Savage again. It was bordering on ridiculous, and a part of Tim wondered if this was why the legendary criminal stayed well away from Gotham waters. He was going to have to ask Bruce what was up with that after this whole mess was over.

“So,” Danny started, leaning closer to him. “Have any plans for when we’re back in modern day?”

Tim shrugged, “I see a lengthy report to Batman, hours spent explaining everything he missed while he was gone. I swear I’ll be up all week helping him catch up.”

A snort. “I meant about Robin. No offense, but you looked miserable in your new costume.”

He paused. He hadn’t quite processed the knowledge that bringing Bruce back wouldn’t also bring back his role as Robin. It was obvious whenever he actually thought about it, but to him Bruce coming home was still synonymous to going back to how things were before he was lost in time.

“I don’t know…Red Robin was just supposed to be temporary. It was one of Red Hood’s old aliases, not really mine.”

Danny turned to him. “Do you want a new one? If you decide now, we can lay the basis for some local legend to act as future inspiration for the new title.”

Tim elbowed him, “We aren’t messing with the timeline to establish lore for my new identity.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! I did it back in my original world, there’s ancient frescos of me winning chariot races and everything.”

“How are you and Clockwork still on speaking terms?”

“Oh, he totally finds it as funny as I do. He just has to pretend to be serious all the time so the Observants don’t crack down on him for shirking his duties.”

“You’re a bad influence on the embodiment of time,” Tim concluded with wide eyes.

A wide grin stretched across Danny’s face as he lied through his teeth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“How did you even—he’s millennia older than you!”

“Counterparts, remember? It’s not a soul bond, but it’s easy to see ourselves in each other. Besides, time is relative; he's like a weird grandpa-uncle-cousin.”

Tim shook his head, but couldn’t quite force down the laughter in his lungs.

“Hey, I know for a fact I’m not the only bad influence here. No matter how much you claim that sleep is for the dead, I’m physical proof against that.”

“Whatever. You know when the next jump is?”

Danny tilted his head, as if listening for something only meant for his ears. “If Bats already came through here, there’s only two big timesinks left he could be in. Either sometime in the 20th century, or in a designated Vanishing Point.”

“Vanishing Point?”

“Yeah, it’s something of a collaboration between the Observants, Clockwork, and Ghost Writer. Each universe has an archive set right around its eventual heat death. It’s like an empty room in a video game with props the devs left in to keep the system running after inadvertently designing the whole code in reference to a lemon.”

“I…never mind. Why would Batman be there?”

“Oh, ‘cause he’s traveling through time without one of these,” Danny tapped Tim’s chest, right where his Time Medallion lay under his shirt. “They’re designed to safely disperse the energy gained each time we make a jump, among other things. Otherwise we’d just be building up enough to wipe the timeline from existence. Or something like that, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Tim suddenly realized that this was what his former teammates meant when they complained about him executing strategies without explaining his thought process first. He still stood by his stance that it was more effective to explain things as they happened, but he was developing a new sense of empathy for them.

“Okay. Batman is a time-charged universe level bomb threat, and is getting funneled into the Backrooms so he blows up with everything else in existence. What can we do to stop that?”

Danny blinked. “Sorry, I thought it was obvious. I already carry a medallion with me wherever I go, so I was just gonna have you put the spare Clocky gave me on him to filter it out.”

Yep. This was karma for never giving people the full story behind any of his plans.

“I’m going to need you to go over everything we need to do when we get to this Vanishing Point. Twice.”

“Okie doke! So I’m gonna leave you with my spare medallion to help Bats while I throw down with Darkseid’s hyper-dimensional mind slave he sent after him to ensure his demise—”

Gift baskets. Tim owed so many people gift baskets for putting up with his bullshit.

— - —

When Tim found him, Danny was perched on the same apartment building they’d last met on.

His hood was down, freeing his flaming white hair to burn without heat in the night. His face was turned towards the sky, looking for all like he was somehow stargazing in spite of the thick smog that blanketed the city. It would’ve made for a stunning picture, if not for how soul crushingly lonely the scene felt.

Danny startled when Tim’s grappling hook latched onto the rooftop beside him. The halfa was quick to brighten upon seeing Tim down below, scooting over to make room for him as he reeled in the line and pulled himself up.

“Fancy meeting you here, Detective.”

Tim huffed, readjusting his utility belt. “The others won’t stop pestering me about how Batman was brought back when I shouldn’t have access to any time travel devices. It’s a miracle I was even able to get out of the Batcave without getting smothered.”

“You didn’t tell them about me?”

“You didn’t want them to know.”

Danny looked stunned. He physically shook himself out of it, a glowing green blush rising to his cheeks as he turned away. “Thanks.”

Tim absentmindedly nodded as he smoothly slipped a black marker from his belt while Danny was distracted. This had the potential to either go very smoothly or backfire completely, but it had to be done to sate his curiosity. Now that Bruce was home and he’d gotten the time to think over their conversations, pieces had started to align in his head. It was just a matter of taking the leap and confirming it for himself.

Reaching up to his own cheek, Tim wrote in practiced motions, focusing on the thought of sending it through to whoever was on the other side.

Danny jumped, hand slapping to his own cheek as he whipped his head around to stare at Tim in open shock. He shrugged sheepishly.

“Your description of soulmates was familiar. Between that and the cloak, I really should’ve put it together sooner.”

“You’re…not mad?”

Tim shifted, stashing the marker back in its rightful place. “I wish I knew sooner. I never meant to hurt you—Batman was getting on my case about the writing on my arms being recognizable in costume, and I never thought to wonder why it was happening in the first place.”

Danny shook his head, a wet chuckle escaping his lips. “You couldn’t have known. It would’ve freaked anyone out, getting messages from a different universe on their skin.”

“Neither did you. Know, I mean. Me blocking the connection was never on you.”

“Well…”

“I mean it.”

“Fine, fine. So…does that mean…?”

Tim carefully reached out his hands to grasp onto his soulmate’s, intertwining their fingers. It was remarkable how easily they fit together. “I don’t know if it’s romantic or not, but I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

Danny collapsed forward into Tim’s arms. He could hardly make out the muffled affirmative, but the message was crystal clear. Leaning down to set his chin on the top of Danny’s head, he let himself savor this moment.

Tomorrow, he could beg Danny to experiment with the extent of their bond. They could talk about new ideas for his hero name, and Danny could get another shot at convincing him to go on a worldwide anti-multi-billionaire tour. The two of them had potentially forever to work out this newfound aspect of their relationship.

For the time being, Tim relaxed back against a chain link fence with his soulmate in his arms, the word ‘BOO’ scribbled in black marker across both their faces.

— - —

And that's a wrap! There's definitely room for more, but these were the all the scenes I wanted to cover ^-^

I think in this universe, Danny and Tim end up working as a slightly morally grey hero duo. They go global for a bit, Tim wanting to train under more people to better keep up with Danny (who follows along invisibly as backup). This eventually gets the attention of Ra's, and you can imagine how that goes XD

They're a bit overly attached; neither of them really have a healthy sense of boundaries, which causes a bit of conflict here and there. Tim is the one that insists on taking breaks to avoid becoming too codependent, which only really results in them deepening the soul bond to a ridiculous degree. Ironically it's during this that Tim discovers how he can send pressure marks through to Danny, who immediately converts it to morse code (oops).

Thanks for reading!

Tag list:

@skulld3mort-1fan @profoundsoulsong @daemonlogical @bobred18 @ashoutinthedarkness @hilariousseagoat @undead-essence @ekatkit @wolfjackle @awkwardmaiden @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

[sil3ntfr34k]

Postal 4 boyfriend Headcanons

(Guess who found about how to do a buillted list insides of manually putting dots :D)

Mans is probably in his early 40’s and feeling every second of it.

He’s not much a romantic, but he knows how to love. Like he knows he’s supposed to give you gifts, listen to you rant, support you in anything, hug you, give affection and words of encouragement, the whole sha-bang. Is he good at it tho? Kinda,,,

You probably met him during his ‘job hunting’, when he was running around this a sign that said something along the lines of “Willing to do something strange for a bit of change”. Caught your attention IMMEDIATELY

You thought he wasn’t too bad looking, something of a roughed up silver fox. He was pretty toned for someone his age, forearms are pretty big and that’s just what you needed. You ended up taking him up on his offer and made him clean out your gutters. You just sat there and watched as he worked himself throwing out heaps of wet leaves and random junk from your gutters.

He came out obvious dirty so you gifted him $40 and a shower. It’s like heavens light shined upon him when he heard the words “You can take a shower here if you’d like?” fall from your mouth was enough for him to marry you in that moment.

Postal Dude has been raw dogging it homeless style for a couple months up to this point, so any kind of reward he came across was a fortune to him. Gladly accepting this kind gesture, he was still thrown out for the rest of the day. You both came upon an agreement that he could stay the nights on your couch, but he still had to go ‘job hunting’ during the days. Didn’t matter to him, he still accepted it. As long as he had a safe place to sleep with Champ.

Side note, you loathe Champ being around during the day since he digs holes everywhere in your front AND back yard, so you make Dude take Champ with him everyday. Dude doesn't mind since Champ is kinda like an attack dog so homie very useful when Dude's walking around

Once your relationship with Dude has reached it's peak (dating), he becomes very attentive and energetic. Where he was once tired and reclused, he's now got some energy in him and filled with affection

Dude loves to be around you and touching you. Biggest love languages are quality time and physical touch, sometimes words of affirmation if he's feeling extra sappy. He's probably been through the works of brutal relationships, so he really wants to settle down, which leads me to my next thought

Mans is getting old and creaky. Sure he's still got muscle and all, but they're honestly just for show. He couldn't hold back Champ from attacking someone he isn't supposed to even if his life depended on it. So, he's staring to wear down and just wants to find someone to relax with.

Red flag time, he's talking about marriage about 2 months into the relationship and tries to move his scrap in without you noticing, which usually fails. It's not that he's using you for your home, Dude just wants to feel like he's finally in a normal relationship. No bitchy attitudes being thrown around, no constant nagging for something stupid, no arguing over small things, no constant threats, just y’all being in love together

Eventually your gonna have to let Champ wonder the house and train him to be a guard dog rather than just an attack dog. You’re definitely the one to look up dog training classes and making Dude go with you to these said classes.

Even with how much he loves to be around you, there are still times when his mental and physical illnesses make him ill 😔 but he still tries to snap out of it

His main problems are most likely his chronic muscle pains and his auditory schizophrenia. (I think all the dudes are some sort of schizo, it’s just that p1 and p2 are the strongest showing ones)

Being older means his body is slowly deteriorating. Sure he’s not that old, but with how he lived in his golden age, he should really be dead. Constantly on the run from the government, having to stay sharp to kill, and fucking his way through Paradise and Edensin, he’s ready to just lay down and let the earth reclaim him

Having a long history of schizophrenia in the family and his own lifetime, it’s thankfully dwindled down to just hearing voices randomly. Since he can only hear these voices it doesn’t scare him as bad as it used to. All he can really hear is a distant conversation that he can’t make out the words to, it’s sort of like a mumbling between a woman and a man. Many times you’ve found him franticly wondering the house with a confused look on his face saying “I thought there was people in here?”

Overall, he’s an old man who’s been through enough and would just like to relax. Give him kisses, give him cuddles, feed him, and talk to him, and he’ll love you for eternity (so gay)

[n-agiz]

VISIONㅤboyfriend! fushiguro toji x fem! reader — smut + (some) fluff [ 3.4k+ wc ] cws filmed sex + oral (m & f) + edging + fingering + cervix fucking + overstimulation + creampie + there’s a sliver of fluff with a little bit of aftercare at the end ++ toji and reader are extremely playful throughout the whole thing ! MDNI

toji, for some reason, adored filming you.

it was usually cute moments, like you both (attempting) to bake on a sunny afternoon, or when you were too focused on something to even noticed he had a camera pointed at you — he had, however, been wanting to try something new, to record you both doing something not as innocent.

“c’mon baby, just let me try it this once… i promise it’ll be worth it!” you sat down relaxed on your living room’s couch, looking up at your boyfriend, while he stood before you with one of his cameras in his hand, and you almost felt the need to laugh at the situation.

toji was a big guy, hours spent at the gym reflecting on his well built physique, but in that instant he reminisced a kid asking — or better yet, begging — his mom for candy with how he was looking at you, the difference being he wanted to move your furniture around just to get a perfect shot (or what he claimed to be the perfect shot) of him fucking you, instead of a sweet treat that he shouldn’t get.

you weren’t too thrilled about accepting it, rightfully so, the last time toji tried to redecorate your home just for a shot having ended with you wrapping his bloody hand in bandage while pieces of what once were two glass cups occupied half of your kitchen’s floor, not to mention what he wanted to record right now was of a much different essence than the one from his previous attempt — however, your boyfriend didn’t seem any more intent on giving up than he did at first, even after long minutes of begging that only seemed to end with negative replies coming from you. he was persistent, that was for sure, and although you didn’t stand too far behind, you were beginning to think that giving in maybe wasn’t that bad of an idea after all, the whole concept seeming kinda fun even if you refused to admit to it  — which was how, sooner than you would like to admit, you ended up laying on your bed, your comfy pajama still on your body as you watched, very much not amused, as your boyfriend moved your bedside table around, testing what distance it should be from the side of the bed as one of his work cameras was propped on top of it, constantly checking through the little visor what angle worked best, which one caught most of the mattress and allowed the best lightening to flow in through the window.

“you ready?” he asked after long minutes, standing up and looking at you through mischievous eyes, his expression having been all too quick to turn from a focused, and even serious, one into one clad with swiftly overpowering lust. you simply nodded, very clearly not as excited as your boyfriend. he clicked the little button on the camera, signifying it was now recording, and walked towards you, getting on top of the bed and hovering over you, fitting snugly between your legs, pressing his pelvis against yours while his palms rested on either side of your head, face hovering over yours. “this will be fun, baby, trust me” you sighed, suddenly completely against ever agreeing with anything toji said, but also started trying to relax, stopping tensing up your muscles and wrapping your arms over your boyfriend’s shoulders, earning a wide smirk from him.

toji began kissing you, pecking you gently and slowly before starting to grow more desperate, sucking on your lips more eagerly, pressing his tongue into your mouth and sucking on yours, moving his hands to instead cup your cheeks, moving his body even closer to yours, making sure his chest was clutch against yours while slowly humping his growing erection against your clothed sex, groaning loudly against you when he felt your wrap your legs around his waist, trapping him as close to you as possible. 

breaking the kiss momentarily, toji flipped you two over, you now being the one on top, thighs spread over his lap and hands planted on his chest, letting out a small squeal at the sudden change of position. without losing any time, he pulled you in again, kissing you just as fervently as before, if not even more, desperate to taste as much of you as he possibly could. he started pressing his crotch up into you harder, faux thrusting upwards into you, making you feel his now fully grown erection, big cock pressing painfully against his sweatpants, not even the layers of clothing able to stop you from feeling his cock twitch when pressed against your covered pussy.

“fuck baby” he mumbled against you, a string of spit connecting your lips as you pulled away, sitting up straight on top of him, watching as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, desire darkening them. you almost forgot you were being filmed in that moment, then noticing once more the black camera on your peripheral vision, deciding to not allow the final footage to have any boring parts in it.

slowly, while never breaking eye contact, you lowered yourself, shifting to instead kneel between toji’s spread legs and bending over so your face was centimeters away from his bulge, your ass up in the air purposefully so he could get a perfect view of it while you fiddled with the strings of his sweatpants, teasing him but eventually untying them, pulling the soft pants down alongside his underwear, biting your lips as you watched toji help you by raising his hips, and moaning softly when you saw his hard cock slap against his lower abdomen, thick length standing up proudly, one single thick bead of pre-cum already drooling down his pink tip, making its way down the underside of his dick. you stuck your tongue out to lick it, tasting its saltiness against the flat of your tongue as you took a, purposefully dragged out, lap up your boyfriend’s cock, humming loudly at the taste, giggling when you reached his tip and heard him let out a deep moan, covering his eyes for a second before focusing on you again, watching attentively when you wrapped your lips around him, sucking just the head of his dick while flicking your tongue against its slit.

you enveloped one hand around his base, feeling the short, dark hairs around it scratch against your fingers, while the other one was placed on his inner thigh, your thumb massaging against that one spot you knew he liked. you started to properly suck toji off, head bobbing up and down his cock until you reached about halfway, your palm taking care of the rest of his length as you stroked him, making sure to pull back and spit on it before continuing, not needing to look to know his eyes were fixated on the movement of your hand, how it followed your mouth, slightly rotating it around his dick with each move.

you could hear your boyfriend’s moans become louder, more recurring, so you decided to play with him, trying to push him off the edge just to stop halfway. you pulled back, stroking toji’s dick slowly for a bit while catching your breath before placing only his tip inside your mouth, sucking on it with greed while using both hands to jack him off, moving them up and down the remain of his dick in unison while rotation each one in different directions, listening closely to how he was starting to moan louder, even letting out a deep groan and throwing one of his arms over his eyes while thrusting his hips upwards into you, the second you noticed his dick starting to twitching against you being the one you completely pulled away, hands flying away from toji as your lips left his dick with a loud pop. you giggled, watching as he grunted very clearly displeased, sitting up as you did so and looking at you through an almost pained look.

“i hate when you do that” he said, moving to kneel before you and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, his cock pressed up between your bodies. you giggled in response, aware of just how much what you just did annoyed him — not that toji ever showed it, knowing that you liked to tease him just as much as he liked to tease you.

toji kissed you again, tasting himself on your tongue, before laying you down, now being your turn to rest with your back on the mattress while he spread your legs apart, slotting himself between them. he pulled your pajama pants off with ease, leaving your underwear on purposefully, liking to see just how wet you had already made it.

“you’re soaked” he smirked, earning himself a kick on his side, laughing harder at it before saying a simple “don’t forget that’s on camera, baby”

toji tapped the pad of his index finger against your covered clit, slipping it down your slit, feeling your hole clench around nothing under his touch.

“do you think you deserve to cum?”

“i’ll go on strike if i don’t”

“fair enough”

without hesitating anymore, toji leaned over, leaving a soft peck on your pussy through your stained underwear before finally pulling it to the side, looking enamored at your glistening cunt, impatient to get a taste — so he did, wrapping his arms around your thighs and propping your legs over his shoulders before diving in. he licked a fat stripe up your pussy, tasting your slick and humming against your clit, looking up at you when you moaned, green eyes dark with lust.

he sucked on your clit, flicking his tongue against the bundle of nerves and circling it softly while caressing your thighs, gripping the tender flesh hard, keeping one of his arms laced around one of them while the other moved under so he could play with your pussy. he continued sucking on your clit, but also began teasing your entrance with the tip of one of his fingers, slipping it in with ease because of how wet your slick and the strings of his saliva that dribbled down your folds left you, thrusting it in and out experimentally before adding another digit, starting to pick up a faster rhythm before also implementing a bending movement, pushing his digits all the way into you before pressing their pads against the spongy spot inside your hole that made your eyes roll, your moans growing louder then as your hips starting to buck up, thighs quivering at the combine stimulation, your pleasure growing by the second.

“keep going, please… just like that…” you mewled, eyes shut and mouth forming a perfect o shape. your pleasure was overwhelming, almost burning you from the inside out.

toji started sucking harder and even more attentively on your clit, and when his fingers became even more precise with their trajectory, you felt waves of crushing pleasure wash over you harshly, almost too suddenly even, your release so great it almost caught you off guard. you screamed your boyfriend’s name, both hands moving to the back of his head and gripping strands of his black hair to keep him in place, only pulling him away when you started feeling overstimulated. toji looked up at you with a smirk adorning his face,the way your slick mixed with his saliva dripped down his chin forming a sinful sight, which he made sure to show off to the camera, smiling towards it before reaching over to grip it, bringing it so the lens was directed at your soaked pussy. toji adjusted the focus, making sure it displayed your cunt clearly, one hand holding the camera steadily while the other spread your folds, showing you off for the video. he pulled your panties off you carelessly, not minding that he almost ripped them in the process, and slapped your pussy harshly, making you whine in surprise, the look you directed at him afterwards comical.

“you spent so much time getting the angle right just to pick up the camera eventually” you said, still breathless, watching your boyfriend put the device to the side, placing it on the bed beside your bodies before taking his shirt off, leaving him completely bare.

“i’ll get better angles like this” he said, lowering himself to be on top of you, chuckling at how you rolled your eyes at his reply — even if a smile stretched across your lips — so he could peck your lips, helping you pull your shirt over your head before unclasping your bra and throwing it across the room too.

carefully, toji picked the camera up again, continuing to hold it with one hand, which made you doubt if he wasn’t about to drop it any second, and on top of you probably, to make it worse — but you didn’t comment, preferring to leave him to it.

he decided to direct the lens towards your middle, watching as your pussy came into view on the small screen, then putting his dick into frame, showing how he slipped his length in between your folds, his erection still strong, visible veins running down its entirety, his tip now a darker shade of pink, almost red, thin beads of pre glistening on the sensitive area.

“can i cum in you?” he asked, gazing at you but leaving the camera focused on your sexes. you nodded, biting your lower lip after grazing your tongue over it, and toji chuckled, adding a simple “good, because i don’t think i’ll remember to pull out” which, in turn, made you laugh, his horniness amusing.

with one hand wrapped around his base, toji pressed his dripping dick against your clit, bumping softly into the bundle of nerves before lowering it to your hole, circling it teasingly, waiting for your whined protest to actually force it into you, sighing pleased as he felt your warm cunt hug him, giggling at your strained moan and how your walls clenched around him.

“still so fucking tight…” he said, now in a much darker tone, bottoming out and staying there for a second, with his dick kissing your cervix and his entire length stretching you out, before slowly pulling back just enough so that only his dick’s head was inside you.

toji’s thrusts started off slow, gentle even. his right hand held the camera up, every now and then directing his eyes from how your pussy swallowed up his cock to make sure the recording was still focused on the right thing, while his left hand rested on the outside of your thigh, his fingers digging into it every now and then almost as a way of grounding himself. his movements eventually became sloppier, though, as he tried to speed up and give both of you more pleasure, the lack of support becoming apparent — so he stopped for a second, dick still stuffed inside you to the hilt, so he could place the camera on the mattress, the angle similar to the one it had while on top of the bedside table, just much closer.

“gonna fuck you right now” toji said, while positioning himself so he hovered over you, his thighs keeping yours apart as he propped his elbows by your shoulders, his hands cupping the sides of your head to make sure your eyes stayed on him.

“oh yeah?” you asked, with a teasing, almost doubtful, tone — but he didn’t even bother replying, instead showing you, starting to thrust into you hard, way faster than before, his movements merciless, rough, and if it wasn’t for him having prepped you before, you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to handle toji’s pace. you felt so good though, so good that almost instantly your eyes rolled into the back of your head, hands going up to rest on your boyfriend’s shoulders, looking to ground yourself even if it meant digging your nails into his skin, the sudden pleasure not only catching you off guard, but also leaving your mind to become mush instantly, no more coherent thoughts coming out of you as toji fucked you, cock dragging in and out of you rapidly, pressing into your cervix in a way that felt entirely too good.

“look at me, baby” he said, his tone low, almost dark, and when you finally focused your sight on toji you could only wonder how he was so composed. “feels good?” he asked smugly, the corner of his lips raising ever so slightly when you nodded, barely able to mutter out a simple “s-so good”

“want you to cum on my cock, can you do that for me?” your boyfriend asked after a while, still fucking you just as roughly as before, his cock reaching as deep inside your pussy as it could, pressing into all the soft spots that made you unable to focus on anything but on how damn good he made you feel, each thrust that made his tip bump against your cervix bringing you closer to your high — so, as a reply, you nodded, continuing to look at toji, focusing solely on him, your whole world suddenly all about him, nothing else important enough to pop up on your mind in that moment.

“‘m so close” you mewled, one hand reaching up to pull at toji’s hair, making him groan, while the other scratched the back of his neck, now his turn to roll his eyes back in pleasure, moaning for you before focusing back on fucking you, continuing to ram his dick into your cunt, biting his lower lip before lowering his face down to your neck, pecking down it’s side before moving up to just behind your ear, kissing that spot faintly and biting your earlobe before whispering a low “cum for me, baby, please cum for me”. his tone was filled with want, a small whine behind it, as if he was truly begging for it, and suddenly, as if that was all you needed in that moment, you came again, this orgasm hitting you harder and faster than your previous one, making you scream toji’s name louder than you had that whole day as you threw your head back, back arching and thighs quivering all while your pussy spasmed around his cock, your pleasure so intense you swore you were about to black out.

toji didn’t stop though, if anything, when faced with your so clear pleasure, only going faster, harder, slamming in and out of you with no care, watching closely as your expression twisted into one of pure pleasure, as sinful and lust-filled as it could possibly get.

“b-baby, please… ‘s too much” you managed to mutter, overstimulation starting to hit you after he kept going even after your high had started to fade away, your pleasure becoming overwhelming — too overwhelming, all too much for you to handle.

“i know baby, i know” he comforted you, kissing your forehead and holding your face gently but showing no interest in stopping, continuing instead, going even harder, fucking you sloppily, losing any precision he had maintained before until he was finally filling you up with his warm cum, letting out a guttural moan as strings of his milky seed filled you up to the brim, spilling out between you two as he still thrusted into you, losing his tempo as his orgasm overtook him.

“fuck, fuck!” toji groaned, stopping completely after a second and catching his breath, his cock still halfway inside you.

he looked down at your pussy, how it wrapped around his girth while globs of his cum dripped out of you, and without a second thought he picked up his camera again, straightening himself to focus it on what was going on between you, his heavy breath probably all you would be able to hear on the final footage as he looked at the tiny visor, almost mesmerized by the view.

it took him a second, but toji eventually caught his breath, putting the camera to the side again before leaning down to hug you, enveloping you in a tight embrace as you were covered by him completely. you laughed, kissing his shoulder and feeling him peck your cheek after, leaving multiple fast kisses on the area before pressing his lips against the tip of your nose, then your other cheek, and then your lips. you giggled through it, at your boyfriend’s sudden wave of affection, feeling him give your body one last squeeze before getting up, finally pulling his dick out of you with a low hum, tapping his almost completely flaccid length against your swollen, cum-covered pussy.

“i need to get you cleaned up” toji said, finally stopping the recording before getting up, also helping you up so he could prepare a warm bath for both of you.

N-AGIZ '23ㅤ REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED !

[agaypanic]

omg requests are open!! i hope you’re having a great day, i’d like to request reader is malcolm’s childhood best friend and starts to realize she likes reese, reese has the same realization + how malcolm would take the news tyyy

My Best Friend's Brother (Reese Wilkerson X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: You always thought of Reese as your best friend’s mean older brother, and Reese always thought of you as his little brother’s annoying tag-along. But as you get older, you realize that feelings can change. 

A/N: i had no idea how to end this :///

***

Knowing Malcolm for years, you didn’t mind that his family was a bit insane. You had grown to embrace the chaos. You seemed to be more accepting of it than your best friend, who constantly complained about how he wished he had a normal family.

The only family member you joined Malcolm in complaining about was his older brother, Reese. He was a menace, probably psychotic if you were being honest. He was known for being a bully and an asshole, and no matter how hard you tried to look on the bright side of things, you couldn’t help but agree with those judgments.

Reese returned your feelings of annoyance and light loathing. Every time he saw you at his house, he complained about how it was like you lived at the Wilkersons instead of your own place. And whenever he saw you at school, he talked about how he could never escape your presence no matter how hard you tried.

Safe to say, Malcolm did his best to keep the two of you away from each other.

But then, one day, things changed. At least for you.

You were waiting for Malcolm in the living room. The two of you were planning to study at the library and see a movie. You decided to flip through channels on the TV while Malcolm got dressed and got his things together.

“Don’t you have your own house to hang around?” You rolled your eyes at Reese’s voice. 

“And don’t you have some kid to beat up? Or a class to fail?” You tossed the remote on the couch, letting the TV stay on some random channel as you turned your head to look at Malcolm’s brother. But when your eyes fell on him, it felt like your brain stopped functioning.

Reese stood just a few feet away from you, the only thing covering him being a towel wrapped around his waist. His usually spiky hair lay flat and wet on his head. His bare chest was covered in water droplets, falling over his abs and v-line, which disappeared beneath the towel.

“What are you looking at?” He smirked at your speechlessness, a rare state for you to be in. You cleared your throat, turning away from him to turn off the TV before standing up.

“Put on a shirt,” you say, bumping into his lean but muscled arm as you pass by him to go find Malcolm. “Weirdo.”

***

Ever since that day, you’ve been looking at Reese differently. At first, you chalked it up to just being horny or something, because all you could think about was his body. But then you started getting nervous anytime he came around. Whenever you knew you were going over to Malcolm’s house, you put a bit more effort into your appearance just in case you saw Reese. And whenever Malcolm complained about his brother, you didn’t add onto it like you usually did.

“Hey.” You watched Reese make dinner, which you were staying at the Wilkersons for. He glanced up at you, brows furrowing as he returned to the pasta he was cooking.

“What do you want?”

“Can I help?” You blurted out, surprising the both of you. You didn’t really want to cook, but standing next to Reese and helping him make spaghetti was probably better than just ogling him.

Reese took a second to think about it, eyes darting around the kitchen, which was cluttered with ingredients and cookware.

“Okay.” He beckoned you closer and pointed to a jar of sauce and a cluster of seasonings. “You can make the sauce.”

You nodded, pouring the tomato sauce into a pot and turning on the burner. As you stirred, Reese moved away and out of sight, which disappointed you slightly. But you brushed it off and continued cooking.

And then suddenly, he was right behind you.

“Lift your head up.” You tried to disguise the shiver that went down your spine with a deep breath, straightening up like Reese had said. Something passed over your head, and then Reese’s arms reached around your waist. He snugly tied the apron he had put on you, taking a moment before moving back to his previous place beside you. “Don’t forget the seasonings.”

“Yes, chef.” You busied yourself with the sauce so you could ignore your cheeks heating up. Reese gave you a look you didn’t see before clearing his throat and returning to the pasta.

***

“Y/n!?” Malcolm called out as he entered your seemingly empty house. You were supposed to meet him at the park for studying and lunch, and you were an hour late. This was extremely unlike you, so Malcolm decided to swing by your place to see what the hold-up was. “Y/n, are you here?”

At first, Malcolm thought that shouting through the house was useless, because it seemed like you weren’t there. But as he walked through the house, getting close to your bedroom, he realized he wasn’t the only person in it.

He didn’t realize until it was too late that there was one more person in the house than he thought.

“Oh my God!” Malcolm yelled in horror as he looked in your room. Surprised by Malcolm’s sudden presence, you froze, which wasn’t the best thing to do, considering that you were straddling Reese’s lap while he sat up against your headboard. “What the hell are you guys doing?!”

“Malcolm, what are you doing here?” You scrambled off of Reese, who seemed less shocked than you about his brother catching you making out.

“What am I doing here? What’s he doing here?!” Malcolm slammed the door behind him, forcing the three of you to bask in the awkwardness. “How long has this been going on?”

You and Reese looked at each other, silently arguing about who would answer Malcolm’s interrogations. 

“A couple weeks,” Reese finally said, eyes glued on you. “And before you say anything Malcolm, I’m not gonna stop seeing her. I don’t care if she’s your best friend.”

“And I don’t care if he’s your brother.” You added.

Malcolm looked like he was about to explode.

“What?!”

***

Malcolm in the Middle Taglist: @rattilol

Reese Wilkerson Taglist: @hollymaybank @theogirlovermattheogirl

[hb-writes]

Together

Summary: When the Cullen family goes on a hike, Mia's fear of heights presents a bit of a problem, but Carlisle is there to help her through.

Prompt: Please number 65 (“I volunteer myself to go last.”) with Mia and Carlisle?

Characters: Carlisle Cullen, Esme Cullen, Jasper Hale, Edward Cullen, Alice Cullen (mention), Mia Cullen (OC)

Content Warning: Fear of heights, excessive fluff.

Twilight (Mia Cullen) Masterlist

Each breath in and out seared as it passed through Mia’s lungs and throat, the sound of her labored breathing matched only by the pounding of her heart. She knew her parents—and her brothers and sisters, too—could likely hear her struggling up the hill. They were too far ahead on the trail—or what had likely at one point resembled a trail, so much of it washed out by heavy rains and melting snow—by now for Mia to hear the steady conversation of her siblings as they walked ahead, but she knew they would still be able to hear her, able to easily pick out the sounds of her strife from the sounds of the forest around them. 

It hadn’t taken long to realize why the trail had technically been closed for the season, categorized as too dangerous for human visitors. Mia was proud of herself for getting this far without succumbing to offers of assistance, even with the difficult trail that went back and forth between a mostly drained out river bed and the forest, causing Mia to be constantly scaling the suddenly steep inclines only to be bracing herself with exposed roots and rocks as she slid back down a few moments later.

None of it gave the others any trouble, even with the muddy conditions caused by the spring thaw, but Mia was already exhausted, some part of her screaming to turn back, or simply give in. To let someone carry her on their back for a bit, allowing her feet and legs and lungs the rest they clearly needed. But Mia knew if she did accede, even if only for a moment, that would be the end of her hike. Once her body had a moment of rest, it would only protest her walking again. 

And despite the growing part of her wishing for reprieve, Mia didn’t want to give in, not really. She had known what to expect coming into it. Emmett had gone through the logistics with her and Carlisle beforehand, ensuring the hike was doable, ensuring there wasn’t anything she’d have too much trouble with, and even though Mia was nursing a stitch in her side and barely able to control her breathing or will her feet to pull her forward, she knew the worst was still yet to come. 

Her heartbeat spiked at the thought of what still lay ahead, another thing she was sure everyone picked up on, especially Esme and Carlisle, whose gentle footfall was still sounding just behind her, intermingled with their occasional quiet conversation, all of it a deliberate effort made to remind Mia that they were still there, just a step behind if she needed anything. 

Mia had tried her best not to need anything though, and she had accepted little more than her father’s hand extended down to help her up one particularly steep incline. He hadn’t even pulled her up, allowing her to use her own muscles to close the distance between them, his hand in hers little more than a bit of leverage. Mia was near certain she would be so sore she could barely walk in the morning—she could already feel the pain settling in—but that was a problem for tomorrow.

One thing at a time, Mia thought to herself as her muscles burned anew, the sudden thinning of the forest’s canopy above her and the faint sound of quiet conversation between Edward and Jasper reminding her that there were more important things to focus on, more imminent concerns. 

“Doing okay?” 

It was only the third time Carlisle had offered the question throughout their hike, and she knew it was an effort on his part to avoid the temptation to ask after her wellbeing, just as he’d been repeatedly stifling the urge to offer his hand to pull her up steep inclines and to offer his back to give her tired legs a rest. She knew it was an effort for Carlisle to allow her to struggle, to allow her to do things on her own, especially when it so clearly caused her pain. 

Mia turned towards her parents, nodding as she briefly met Carlisle’s eye. Her chest was tight enough with each breath that Mia knew if she were to try speaking, any words would only come out as a strangled gasp without the air necessary to support them. 

Carlisle nodded in return, and Mia turned around, trudging up the path toward the clearing. Jasper and Edward glanced at her as she arrived, subtle smirks on both of their faces as she dragged her feet to close the final few steps between them. 

Mia let out a ragged breath, leaning over with her hands on her knees as her body caught up with the fact that she was no longer walking, no longer plodding up a hill, no longer pushing her limits. 

Carlisle held out a bottle of water, which Mia took as she straightened back to her full height. She felt a sharp pain in her side with each big inhale, and she focused on breathing just enough that she avoided the pain. 

“The others already went ahead?” she asked, hoping the words sounded at least a little normal and not as though it was a great effort just to speak. 

Edward nodded, watching as Mia took gulp after gulp from the water bottle. 

“Alice is just crossing,” Jasper said, and Mia pulled the bottle from her lips before following his gaze to the far side of the suspension bridge where Alice was twisting and twirling as if she were on a stage and not a glorified bundle of wood slats held together by cables, all of it a staggering 156 feet above the surging waters below. 

Alice, as per usual, seemed entirely unbothered by the risk. 

Mia's gaze traveled to the waters below. Even though she had looked at the pictures online…even though she had known all she could know about the trail and the bridge and the river before agreeing to come along, seeing it in-person was something different entirely. Her mouth dried out despite allowing another gulp of water to slip past her lips.

“You want to go next?” Jasper rocked on his feet, leaning over to nudge Mia’s side with his arm. She took a step back, away from the edge that she was nowhere near to begin with, her body responding to some subliminal call to retreat. 

“Can I go in the middle?” she asked. 

Edward leaned back, revealing a small brown sign with white lettering affixed to a post near the bridge's entry. 

RECOMMENDED: ONE PERSON ON BRIDGE AT A TIME.

“Great,” Mia muttered under her breath. “I volunteer myself to go last, then,” she added as she took a few steps before lowering herself to sit on a large rock she imagined had been brought there just for this purpose. For the people who were too scared to cross to have a place to sit and watch the braver members in their party go forge ahead. 

“Are you sure?” Jasper asked. “I could—”

Mia cut off the suggestion with a glare and a shake of her head. Anxious as she was about the crossing, she didn’t want Jasper’s brand of help. She didn’t want him to soothe her nerves or sway her mood, tempting as that all was. Jasper didn’t fight her on it, offering a shrug before he turned to begin his journey across.

"See you on the other side." 

Mia propped her elbow on a knee and let her head slump into her hand as she watched Jasper disappear over the bridge. 

“You sure you don’t want to go next?” Edward asked. “Get it over with?” 

Mia shook her head once before turning her attention to pushing her hiking boot through the mud, making a gouge in the ground with the force of it. 

“I’ll go next,” Esme said, pressing a gentle hand to Mia’s shoulder as she passed. 

Mia watched her mother go, not pulling her eyes away even as she felt Edward’s gaze on her.

“I’m sure you’re making it worse in your head than it’s actually going to be.”

“And how would you know what I’m thinking?” 

The words snapped with more force than Mia intended as she turned to look at her brother. Mia knew that she had her mind locked up well enough that Edward couldn’t get in, couldn’t really tell what she was thinking though she was sure he had attempted. Mia had made sure her guards were up and secure today, almost as much of her focus settled there as it was on making sure she didn’t trip and fall. 

“My thoughts are none of your business.” 

Edward snorted, and Mia waited for either the pseudo lecture or sarcastic comment she could tell was on the tip of her brother’s tongue, but when she looked up, it was clear he was already mid-conversation with someone else. 

Carlisle—she presumed—knowing that the two of them frequently engaged that way, especially where she was concerned. 

“Fine,” Edward said in response to whatever Carlisle had expressed through his thoughts. “I’ll wait for you on the other side," he added, glancing down at Mia, but Carlisle shook his head.

“I believe your mother would like to walk with you for a while,” Carlisle answered. He nodded toward the other side of the gorge, where Esme indeed still stood, waiting, and whether Esme truly had any particular reason for wanting her son’s company, Mia was grateful to her mother for occupying him, and grateful to her father for suggesting it. Grateful that Edward wouldn’t be permitted the opportunity to follow up on any of their conversation just now.

“You two go on ahead.” 

Edward didn't bother responding before he headed out onto the bridge, his feet making swift work of the crossing.

“Your brother means well,” Carlisle said as he slipped down onto the rock beside his daughter. 

Mia rolled her eyes, her gaze shifting from her father to watch the brother in question. Edward had by now joined Esme on the other side of the bridge, the time it took seeming impossibly quick, but Mia knew Edward could still hear them. 

“I know,” she answered. And she did know. As much as Edward and Mia sometimes grated on each other's nerves, Mia knew her brother meant well. She knew he wanted what was best for her. 

Mia pushed her foot through the mud, focusing her gaze there as she spoke. “It’s just amazing how they’re all so overprotective until it’s something I have reservations about, and then they’re all ready to push me off the side of a cliff.” 

Carlisle chuckled, knowing that it was partly true. 

“They do realize I’m a human being, right?” she said. “Unlike the rest of you, if I fall off that bridge and break my neck, I’m dead.” 

Carlisle sighed, and Mia felt the weight of her words. She’d meant it as a joke, or a sort of joke, but the mention of her ever present mortality was a heavy subject. Somewhere along the line, she’d realized that it was heavy for all of them in different ways, but it seemed to be heavier for her father more than any of the rest of them. Mia understood why. She knew that if anything like that were to happen…if her existence hung in the balance somehow…it would be her father’s decision on how they would proceed. It would be her father who changed her or let her go. 

Mia released a sigh as she leaned her head against his shoulder, an apology of sorts.

“You’ve done well today.” Carlisle snaked an arm over her shoulder. 

Mia snorted, glancing up to him, eyebrow raised. “So have you.” 

Carlisle reached for the water bottle she’d discarded beside the rock, holding it out for her as if the compliment she’d spared him just now was akin to giving him permission to dote on her a bit. Mia didn’t fight him on it, accepting the bottle and taking a swig. 

“It’s nice here,” Mia mused as she stretched out her legs in front of her. “Maybe we should just sit here and relax and…”

“Is that really what you want?” 

Carlisle would’ve been happy to sit there with his daughter for hours, enjoying nature and the peace and quiet. And he was certain that the longer they lingered on this side of the bridge, the better chance they had of letting the others hunt at a more leisurely pace without concern for Mia’s presence, but he could feel the tug of war within his daughter. Could feel that there was some part of her that wanted to face her fear of heights. 

Mia shrugged and stood up, taking a step toward the bridge. There was supposedly a small, easy hike to a beautiful view on the other side of the bridge, but…

“It’s a big fall,” she said. "Quite a ways down..."

“It is,” Carlisle agreed, “but the bridge is safe,” he added, as if he knew she was questioning it. 

Mia nodded. She knew her father wouldn’t allow her to traverse it if it wasn’t safe, but intellectually knowing that fact did nothing to quell the anxious hormones rushing through her blood stream. 

“But it wobbles,” Mia said. She had seen the bridge swaying while the others had crossed. “And it’s very…open.” It was far more open than she had expected, the cables and wood slats offering far less protection and safety than she had expected.

Mia glanced back at her father, waiting for him to contest her observations, but Carlisle only nodded. He wouldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t deny the truth of her observations. The validity of her concerns about the structure. 

But more than Mia was concerned about the structure, she was concerned about her role in crossing. She was afraid that her clumsy nature would somehow result in her falling between the wooden slats. Or that she would somehow succeed at propelling herself over the cable rails. 

She knew both were unlikely scenarios, but she couldn’t stop the fear from settling in her stomach. 

And she couldn’t stop herself from imagining the most likely of scenarios—that she would simply freeze, stranded somewhere in the middle of the bridge and paralyzed by fear.

She knew she didn't have to do it. No one would force her to cross, and with her siblings gone, no one would taunt or tease or try to convince her either. And Mia knew that deciding that crossing the bridge didn’t serve her and not crossing because of that decision…that could be a form of courage. Standing up for herself in that way would be just as courageous as forging ahead.

She could almost hear her father saying as much though he remained quiet and waiting, not wanting his words to influence her choice. The quiet between them seemed to last an impossibly long time while what seemed like a million thoughts raced through her head each one louder than the last until Mia took a hasty step forward and her mind quieted. She her breath as she moved out onto the bridge. She didn’t want to think about it any longer, or allow herself to claim the courage of saying no to something she didn’t want to do, because though it was easier to stay on this side, deep down she wanted to cross the bridge. She wanted to see the view on the other side. She wanted…

Mia looked down at her feet as she placed the third and fourth and fifth steps down, and with each step it became more difficult to focus on her hiking boot and the wood slat beneath it, her eyes drawn to the rushing waters of river below. 

She closed her eyes, hands settled on the cables to her sides, willing her body to still the shaking that had started, willing her foot to take another step, but she was frozen, every part of her resistant to any idea of movement. 

Even to get back, she would have to walk. She would have to open her eyes and turn around and…she gulped, her body ramping up at the thought of those things, the doubting thoughts once again growing louder and more insistent.

“Dad…” 

The word was barely a whisper. Barely a plea, but Carlisle was there beside Mia in just a fraction of a second, guiding her to breathe, his voice and hands on her shoulders steadying her as her eyes remained squeezed tight. 

“I can’t do it. I…”

“You don't want to?” 

Mia took a deep breath, her eyes still shut as she considered her father’s question, the way he had effectively sidestepped her assertion, letting it fall away without comment, both of them knowing it wasn’t true. 

Both of them knew that there was little truth to Mia’s ‘I can’t do it.’ Crossing the bridge wasn’t a matter of ability, but a matter of desire, and Mia knew her father wouldn’t push her one way or the other. Carlisle would let her decide.

“I don’t know,” Mia answered, taking another slow breath to help loosen the tightness in her chest.

“I’m with you either way,” Carlisle answered. “We can go back or cross together. It's up to—”

“I thought only one person was allowed at a time,” Mia interrupted, remembering the glaring warning sign, as she glanced over her shoulder to look at her father. 

Carlisle’s face held an easy smile, a hint of mischief gleaming in his eye as he shrugged.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” 

Mia let out an uneasy chuckle, pulling her eyes from her father to look across to the far side of the bridge. 

“Together,” she said, more to herself than anything, as if the word would convince her bones and nerves and muscles to cooperate, but it was Carlisle’s echoing of the word that had Mia taking a hesitant step forward and then another.

“I’m right here,” Carlisle said, his hand finding Mia’s shoulder when she paused a few steps later.

She looked over her shoulder briefly, offering him a nod before she continued on across the bridge, Carlisle's father’s comforting presence just a step behind. 

Twilight (Mia Cullen) Masterlist

[vecnuthy]

to taming demons

@eddiemonth day 4: lost | wc: 680 | G | cw: hurt/comfort, established relationship, depressive episode/social drain/mental low

"You're being quiet."

Their cat Dio raised his head and blinked up at Steve, then stretched all along Eddie's thigh, while Eddie just continued to sit there on the couch, letting Steve's remark go unacknowledged.

The observation wasn't a critique, it wasn't malicious.

It was so soft, meant to light on Eddie's ears like a wisp, and shake down his walls that, honestly, felt as if they were currently made up of dandelion seeds. One wrong breath of air, and he could crumble into the pile of nothing that he could feel trying to pull him in and trap him.

His place on their couch was familiar, as was the press of their cat Dio. His brain told him to respond to Steve's comment in some way, but Eddie couldn't bring himself to move, couldn't prize his jaws apart and coax air past tongue and teeth. He couldn't move his lips to form words.

He just continued to stare a hole in the spot on the rug with his point of unfocus chosen out of convenience and happenstance.

But then, Steve touched him.

His knuckles were soft in the gentle drag across Eddie's cheek with barely-there contact that made Eddie's insides burn and his chest squeeze. Eddie clenched his jaw and felt the muscles flex as he tried to will away the sting of tears in his eyes.

He had never been good at this.

Never been good at facing his feelings headon for what they were. He just knew he felt after not feeling, then became numb after feeling so much. But right now, all he felt was Steve. But that was all he wanted.

He felt Steve's weight settle on the couch cushion as he sat down so close to Eddie that he was almost ontop of him. Even from Steve's sideways position with a leg tucked under him, warmth radiated from Steve and soaked into Eddie's side, making him tucked between his two favorite beings.

Eddie felt Steve shift when he placed his hand on his thigh, palm on display as a offering. And invitation. It was Eddie's choice.

Eddie wanted.

Eddie always wanted, but this was difficult for no good reason other than the fact that it just was.

But this was Steve - the closest person that Eddie had ever had, who met him step for step and pushed when necessary, but knew when grace was due. He sheltered when Eddie was shaken and cradled when Eddie felt broken. It wasn't always easy, but they were always together, even as unmoored as Eddie felt.

Eddie didn't have to be afraid of this, but it terrified him. Steve terrified him constantly, left him overwhelmed and sun soaked in the glow of his affection, but he needed that glow. He needed to acknowledge that the loneliness ungulfing him was weak enough to break through.

He needed to be reminded. To feel.

Eddie felt his jaw clench again, then he somehow dredged up the energy to slip his fingers through Steve's. The warmth from his skin leeched into Eddie's palm like a spray of color exploding into the grey, and he breathed deeply and relaxed a fraction, enough to flow with how Steve guided Eddie's head to face him.

"There you are," Steve breathed out with a little smile that Eddie swore could heal the sick and source world peace. It was already working those little miracles on him now.

Eddie watched as Steve took him in, eyes caressing his features with a level of emotion that was almost tangible, and Eddie craved. He knew that was what he needed. Touch grounded him when he was like this, but he could be reluctant to give into it at times.

But Steve's hold on his hand was so divine.

There was no resistance when Steve pulled him close. He just tucked his head into Steve's neck, breathed in love and acceptance then breathed out doubt and old demons until the only thing left was Steve's hand in his hair and their clasped hands wrapped around his waist.

And Eddie breathed.

[plus-size-reader]

Never Ending Proposals

Steve Harrington x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2267 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Steve really wants to marry the reader, and will NOT give it up but at a certain point, he has to face reality.

—————————————————————————————————

“Steve…no”

“No”

“No Harrington”

“God, what is wrong with you? We are not getting engaged”

With the way you just kept repeating yourself, you were sure that someone was going to have you committed but it wasn’t entirely your fault.

He just wouldn’t drop it.

No matter what you tried to tell him, Steve refused to accept that you weren’t ready to be his wife yet.

You got it, you really did. You had heard his fantasy over and over again, about all the kids and the camper van and all that.

It sounded nice… after you had secure careers and could actually afford a camper full of Harrington's. Until then, you were just going to keep saying no, and it didn’t matter how sweet Steve was, or how much he genuinely meant each proposal.

As far as you were concerned, Steve Harrington was still a child, and so were you. Neither of you had any business getting married or starting a family yet.

Just last week, you’d lost Dustin in the mall, and you were confident he was easier to handle than an infant. At least, you hoped he was, considering how much trouble he caused the two of you all by himself.

How were you supposed to juggle everything you already did on top of marital responsibilities? You couldn’t.

There was no way to feasibly make it work.

Not that your partner saw that as clearly as you did, as evidenced by the fact you were once again talking about it, this time driving down the road.  

“I just think it would be nice, y’know?” Steve hummed, getting that dreamy look in his eye again, even though you’d already shot this particular fantasy down once this week.

You smiled in spite of yourself, enjoying the fact that he’d clearly given the more romantic parts of his plan some decent thought. In every way except the practical, he knew exactly how it would go down if you agreed.

Unfortunately, you had your focus placed firmly in reality, where there was no ring on your finger and you liked it that way-for the time being, at least.

“It would be nice, but we aren’t ready” you reminded, resting back fully against your chair, turning your head to meet his gaze before he returned his to the road.

That wasn’t he wanted to hear.

Part of you felt bad for shooting him down so readily. You understood the sentiment, and it would be a lie to say that his insistence on being with you was romantic but it was also crazy.

If you went through with it now, it would be like playing house. It wouldn’t actually be something you could sustain all on your own, and that was just the marriage part. You were even less ready to be parents.

You didn’t even have reliable parents of your own. You wouldn’t know how to be them.

“Why not? We always make it through, together,” he kept going, muscle memory almost entirely driving him now, as he ran his left hand through his hair, only partially focusing on the road.

From where he was sitting, it made perfect sense.

Sure, getting married young like you were was a little unorthodox, but it wasn’t entirely uncommon, especially in a small town like Hawkins. Besides, if anyone had any hope of making it work, he was sure it was you.

The two of you, getting through things together and making it work, no matter what. That was who you were and who you’d always been, for one another.

Marriage was just a formality.

A way to make it permanent, forever.

“We could definitely handle marriage” Steve shrugged decidedly, taking your silence as as much of an answer as he was going to get for now.

He knew you weren’t ready, but it didn’t bother him. You were worth waiting for and if waiting was what you wanted to do, you would do it.

…but he wasn’t going to stop proposing.

Steve made up his mind. He wanted to marry you more than he’d wanted anything in a long time and he wasn’t about to let you forget it.

Not that you could even dream of something like that.

You were painfully aware of the situation at hand, sometimes to the point that the pressure nearly crushed you. After all, Steve had dated a lot of girls before you, and of all of them, you were the one he chose to propose to and not just once.

He had proposed to you more times than you could keep track of, though the most memorable ones had certainly carved out a place in your mind.

The first time, for example, you and Steve had gone to the park and halfway through your walk, he’d made up his mind, and dropped to his knee right there.

Then there were the most elaborate schemes of all; like the time he’d sent a single slip of paper to your house every day for a month, all with the same proposal penned into the paper in blue ink, or when he’d hidden his grandmother’s diamond in a soda can.

Each and every one was crafted with so much effort and care, and he’d put so much time into every individual moment and detail.

It was a beautiful testament to how much he cared for you, and part of you wanted to say yes.

…but you couldn’t.

Wouldn’t. Not until you knew the time was right.

“We could. But first, we have to handle the video store” you reminded, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s cheek before ducking out of the car entirely, leaving the man you loved to once again ponder over another failed conversation.

“I can handle the video store” he muttered, content to enjoy another day by your side, even if it was just as your boyfriend.

~

“Hey Steve” you called, rounding the corner to the horror section where he was restocking inventory, finally making up your mind, once and for all.

As endearing as he was, and as genuine as his feelings were for you, something had to change.

The pressure of all this marriage and babies stuff was going to drive you crazy, and you couldn’t feel like he was just constantly waiting for you to say yes, like you were keeping him from the one thing he really wanted.

Like being his girlfriend wasn’t enough anymore.

As soon as he heard your voice, the man stopped dead in his tracks, glancing at you over his shoulder, a huge grin on his handsome face.

“There’s my favorite girl. How were the romantic comedies?” he hummed, referring to the section you’d been assigned for the night.

Right now, it was just the two of you on the floor, given the fact Robin had drawn the short straw and was currently locked in the back room. Normally, that would mean a fair amount of sneaky kisses and misquoted movies, but not tonight.

Tonight, you couldn’t stop thinking about the talk you’d had on your way in and you needed some closure, before you drove yourself crazy.

“They’re fine. I was just thinking and I wanted to run something by you” you tried, watching as Steve immediately put down the box he’d been working on and turned his fullest attention to you, as if there was nothing else in the world.

Which, to be fair, there may has well been, in Steve’s mind.

“Sure, what’s up?”

His words hung in the air for only a moment before you finally blurted out what you’d been thinking about all day, without any of the tact you’d been hoping for.

“I need you to stop proposing to me” You started, slightly panicking now that it was all out in the open. Almost instantly, you felt that weight on your chest, no doubt punishment for crushing whatever happy family dream your boyfriend had for the two of you.

Understandably, there was silence between you for a moment as Steve tried to process what you were telling him.

Thankfully, you stepped in again before he could let his brain run wild with this new information. You wanted to make sure that he understood that you weren’t telling him no forever, or ending things, all you wanted to do was wait a little bit longer.

After all, you had ever intention of marrying him, as soon as you reasonably could.

“I love you, more than anything, and one day, you will be the most amazing husband. I just want to wait a little while longer” you cooed, speaking as quickly as you possibly could.

More silence.

By this point, you were sure that you’d upset him, maybe more than you ever had in the course of your relationship.

There was no way to know for sure considering Steve, the most expressive person you’d ever known, wasn’t actually saying or doing anything.

Until, of course, he did.

All at once, the man you loved was standing in front of you, holding your hands gingerly in his own as if you may actually slip through them if he wasn’t careful.

“What is it? Are you worried about your parents? Or my parents? Is it money? Because I can take more shifts. I’m just saying, I could definitely support you, we can figure it out” Steve assured, squeezing your hands, his face so close to your own that you could see the slight flecks of green in his eyes.

Which, of course, nearly melted you.

While you knew it was a bad idea, it was moments like this that made you want to marry him that much more.

He was so amazing.

You knew that there was nothing Steve wouldn’t do for the people he loved, and somehow you’d found yourself in the middle of that…you were lucky to be in love with him, you knew that.

All you were asking was to be with him, in this moment, instead of constantly yearning for a future that you weren’t prepared for yet.

“It’s none of that. I just can’t handle the pressure of it. I don’t want to feel like I’m letting you down” you sighed, deflating at his earnestness.

You loved him so much, and you just needed that to be enough for now.

Steve nearly scoffed at that before forcing it down. Clearly, even though it made no sense to him, that was how you were feeling and he had no right to take away from that.

“You could never let me down,”

Say what you may about Steve Harrington, but he was nothing if not determined to be happy and nothing brought him more happiness than his girl. You were his everything, and if he had to give up every other one of his vices to make you his, then he would just have to learn to live without the rest of it.

It was unbelievable to him that you were actually his girlfriend, and even a smile from you could brighten his whole day and send away the rain.

No matter what you two went through together, you had always been by his side, and the truest love he’d ever had.

The least he could do was try to return that favor for you.

That being said, this morning when he brought it up, he knew that you weren’t going to be happy with him but he didn’t really care. He wanted you to be his wife, and would do whatever it would take to get to that point.

Which wasn’t fair.

At some point, he should have considered the position he was putting you in, and since he hadn’t, Steve was grateful you’d brought it up.

The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, or make anything harder for you. That was quite literally the reason he wanted to marry you in the first place, so that he could make sure you were always content.

“I love you, that’s what this whole thing is about. So, if you aren’t ready, we’ll wait” he decided, a flood of relief washing over you in an instant.

That was all you needed to hear.

That he wasn’t angry with you, and that he was okay with putting off any greater life planning until you were actually prepared for them.

Steve wasn’t thrilled about it, of course, but he knew what you were saying. In fact, this was one of the reasons he loved you so much. You were so much more realistic than he was, and if he didn’t have you, it was possible that he wouldn’t be able to function even half as well.

“I love you” he repeated, wrapping his arms around you fully now, in what had to be the most comforting hug you’d ever shared.

Not that you could be shocked, even now.

Everything that Steve ever did made him feel that much more irreplaceable to you and he really was. It warmed your heart to know that he was so serious about all of this, and that he really did love you as much as he claimed to.

“I love you! We’ll get there. I promise” you whispered back, giving him a strong squeeze before pulling away almost completely, though not far, considering the fact that you could still feel his breath fanning your face.

“Okay, then I have a promise for you,” Steve grinned, tapping his chin, almost as if deep in thought, before he finally made up his mind.

“I promise that the next time I propose will be the last time”

[signedeclipse]

Probably really weird and macabre but I would like to request headcanons for Douma, Hantengu and Gyokko with a human s/o who wants to try human meat for once and is really adamant about it (but not in a fetishizing way, just like 'I wonder what it tastes like'). Like what would their reactions be if their partner saw them eat someone and suddenly ask them if they can have a bite?

(If the request is too gross you really don't need to do it that's totally fine. I know cannibalism makes many really uncomfortable.)

Douma

One interesting fact about his human is that unlike others, they didn't seem all that worried by blood and gore

He was used to the screaming, pointing and running by most that ever tried to get close to him, but at worse you looked away, and it seemed more in a respectful way than a fearful way

But that is where he figured it stopped

Certain people weren't sympathetic, but you were

Others were monsters themselves, but Douma only found that to be partially true about you

"I find it's just the natural order of things" you would say "Like a lioness hunts a gazelle."

Douma didn't need ethics to keep him from feeling bad about it, but he was glad it wouldn't be an issue

But once when you walked in and naw him chewing on a leg, you stared way longer than usual

"Hello! Is everything okay?" His smile had bits of flesh and viscera stuck between the teeth

"Oh! Yeah, sorry, I got lost in my thoughts."

When he pushed to learn more, he was surprised to hear you were wondering what it tasted like, and had always wanted to try

Immediately his claws dug into the thigh and ripped out some of the muscles, tearing into the piece over and over till it was almost a sludge

Then, he shoved it in his mouth and kissed you

Of course his first concern was that your teeth couldn't break through flesh like his could so you might choke, so he broke it down as much as he could with his hands and teeth before pushing some into your mouth and parting

He swallows the majority and lets you try what little you did get

Wouldn't care if you spat it out or not, either way nothing would change

If you do like it he would tell you to hunt your own humans

Gyokko

Gyokko didn't really eat around you ever

Mostly because you spent your time in his studio and he actually tried to keep blood and gore away from his beautiful works unless intentional

But when he did he tried to be quiet about it

Surprisingly you didn't mind the gore, but you really hated mouth sounds and when he ate it was far too much to handle

It isn't beyond the upper rank to offer you to try some, but you always laughed it off or said you didn't want to ruin your clothes/appetite incase you didn't enjoy it

But this time, when he caught you staring he decided to offer for the nth time

And much to his excitement, you accepted!

Of course he wouldn't give you anything other than the best, so he ripped the heart clean out of the freshly obtained body and pressed it against your lips

Of course it was really hard to bite into, but he let you take your time before pulling it away and biting out almost half the heart with his left mouth

"Oh I love the way the red stains your pretty lips darling~"

Would laugh and prod at you for being too weak if you couldn't eat it, but would stop asking if you want any afterwards

Hantengu

Hantengu keeps to himself when eating, but he would usually do it while you eat your own meals because he enjoys the comfort of 'normalcy'

It's actually pretty impressive to him that you can keep food down and talk to him while he is eating a human

The other personalities tend to prod you about it and ask if you are a freak or something, but otherwise leave it be

They aren't out often anyways

One dinner, you were frustrated about forgetting to go to the market during the day and how you'd only have plain rice for dinner

You wondered aloud if human meat would make a good protein which immediately Hantengu was by your side

"Be careful!! Eating blood like that could make you ill,,,or worse!"

Very worried about the potential of sickness in someone's blood getting to you

But when you insist, Hantengu forced you to cook it so at the very least any bacteria is killed

You make a little stir fry with just that and mushrooms on a bed of butter rice

Surprisingly not bad, but Hantengu wouldn't let you have more beyond that one occasion

He doesn't want you to get sick, nor does he want you to lose your humanity

Authors Note - Please do not apologize because I REALLY REALLY enjoyed this request! I was a horror writer for a really long time and honestly kinda feel the romance with this <3 Also tysm for requesting Hantengu and Gyokko I love them sm... Come back soon, Anon!

[mighty-ant]

A Good Landing, chapter thirteen

first | previous

ao3

The Drake of three years ago never could’ve imagined that he’d be someone’s husband one day. 

To be fair, a wedding would be tough to plan when one didn’t technically exist. He had Drake Mallard erased from record nearly a decade ago, reduced him to less than a ghost, less than a footnote. It wasn’t particularly difficult to do, with as little impact as Drake Mallard had made on the world. A rejected son, a failed actor, a selfish, bitter, friendless loser. 

He fell into SHUSH by chance, by sheer, brilliant happenstance. 

As a former stuntman, he knew how to throw a punch. And a lot more than that. He wasn’t proud of it, but after the 8th pointless audition for a toothpaste commercial with no callback, he took to slipping out of his crummy basement apartment in a ski mask and whaling on petty criminals in his neighborhood, St. Canard’s East End. He tried not to punch above his weight, going after would-be muggers or your typical creeps, and every dawn, as sickly, gray sunlight spilled out over the city, he would trudge back home with sore muscles and a gaping chasm in his chest that no amount of violent retribution would be enough to fill. 

But he was getting pretty good at beating up crooks, to the point where regular people took notice. He started showing up in the news as ‘the dark masked duck’ more than Drake Mallard ever did, and even as the emptiness yawned within him, he liked it. The attention, indirect as it was. And he wanted more. 

Beating drug dealers bloody didn’t pay the bills unless he wanted to turn into some sort of hitman, so he kept up his stunt work during the day. His after hours activities kept him sharp, and there was no end to the mindless action flicks in need of nameless stuntmen. 

There was one flick, some old school vampire thing, that had him flying around on wires for Vampire Thrall #1-4 and the Vampire King. The costume department put him in a cape, a long, flowing thing that flared with his movement, made him look bigger than he really was. He startled more than a few techs with a perfectly timed swing of his cape, the snap of fabric especially jarring when all else was silent. 

And just like that, Drake knew what he had to do. 

As a former student of a theater department with a dwindling, near-nonexistent budget, he’d performed in every role, from lead actor to stagehand. And borrowing one of the vampire capes from set to use as reference, he made Darkwing Duck’s first costume. 

The gas guns and the catchphrases developed over time, through trial and error. He flubbed his lines more than once and set off his apartment’s fire alarm an embarrassing number of times. Until one night, when Darkwing Duck became fully realized. 

He started noticing a pattern with a certain number of thieves, most of them teens or kids barely out of high school. He followed them for about a week, not interfering since they never actually hurt anyone, before they led him to the warehouse where they were dropping everything off. 

Drake burst in, expecting to beatdown a few scary gang types who thought it a swell idea to recruit kids to do their dirty work, only to stumble headfirst into a smuggling ring that (he’d later learn) spanned the entirety of Calisota. With his cover blown and the exit blocked, Drake did the only thing he was good at. He fought. 

As he launched one of their own tear gas canisters back at the last of the goons, SHUSH agents came storming in. Apparently he’d interrupted what had been a multi-part sting five months in the making, but in doing so caught the gang so off guard that nearly all of the bosses were there to meet his fists, and the rest were caught when their business partners squealed on them. 

“We’ve been watching you,” the lead agent said. He held his hand out to Drake. “How would you like to continue your work somewhere other than a basement?”

He accepted, barely waiting for the agent to even finish speaking, and Drake Mallard disappeared into Darkwing Duck’s shadow, gleefully casting aside everything that made for a normal life in favor of casefiles and chemistry sets. Who needed friends or neighbors when Quackerjack was robbing the federal gold depository? Or Megavolt was stealing the city’s power, or Bushroot was turning everyone into vampire potatoes (you get the idea)?

Darkwing Duck had the tech, and the secret base, and the costume, and the fear. By design, the average citizen was meant to consider him a myth; the criminal underworld, they knew who he was all too well. 

The years went by, years of living out his secret, selfish fantasies, and…he felt nothing. That hollow, carved out space inside him didn’t go away, or heal at all. If anything it became a constant companion, a pain that festered into numbness. 

After the adrenaline high burned itself out, he felt the ache of his bruised, bleeding body, drowned in the yawning emptiness of the Tower. There was so much crime in St. Canard, not just supervillains but cruel, petty evils that made it feel as though he were battling the tide with a bat and a cardboard shield. 

But he couldn’t go back now. Back to small, sniveling Drake Mallard who nobody gave a damn about. Who would have him? Who would want him?

And then. 

A Darkwing-shaped hole in the roof of a plane hangar. A jet, presented as a gift. Smiles over coffee and warm hands holding his aching body close. 

Launchpad, who had far more reason to turn jaded and cruel than Drake ever did, but stayed good despite the way the world chewed him up and spat him back out. Launchpad, who offered his bruised heart with trembling smiles, trusting Drake even as he risked further pain. 

Launchpad, who made Drake want to try. 

Try to be good, too. Try to be whole. A worthy partner. 

And then. 

An orphan with boundless spirit. Lullabies, hugs that left him breathless, a blazing red portal and a tiny, fragile hand clasped in his own, trusting him when everyone else had failed her. 

He never saw Gosalyn coming. How could he? Fatherhood was a foreign concept, a cruel joke, his frame of reference poisonous and pointless. But then Gosalyn fit into their life like a missing puzzle piece, as if he’d been waiting for her all along and he’d only just glanced down and taken notice. Her happiness began to matter more than any number of stakeouts or foiled plots. To keep her safe, he would kill and die for her. 

Before his eyes, the empty numbness inside him transformed into a well of rage, of love, so powerful it made him wonder if he’d ever truly been alive before now. 

For them, his heroes, he had to do more than just try.

Then of course Launchpad just had to show him up by proposing first, but that was just par for the course. And Drake could admit that a moonlit flight in the Thunderquack was probably more romantic than anything he could’ve come up with. 

All that mattered was the end result was the same. A family, his family, unlike anything he would’ve been capable of imagining for himself. Just the thought of how he used to be shamed him, and on especially bad nights, he worried about regressing into that shell of a man, a cold, caustic version of himself and the bitter loneliness he enforced. 

But that fear seemed insignificant when they were flying to Des Moines for their wedding, and for Gosalyn to meet her new grandparents. When they went house hunting and found a two-story marvel with a lovely kitchen backsplash and a tree out front for Gosalyn to give him a heart attack by climbing. 

They still had their rough days, obviously. 

Something might remind Gosalyn of her grandpa, and the life that was stolen from her, and she would lash out over any little thing in dramatic teenager fashion. 

Launchpad’s nightmares about his old life could keep him from sleep for days at a time and in his exhaustion he would turn withdrawn in their own home, hesitating before every kiss, every hug or high five, staring at Drake and Gosalyn as if they might vanish if he were to dare reach out and touch them. 

Drake would get overwhelmed by the muchness of it all—fighting crime had nothing on back-to-school shopping, meal prepping, hockey meets, and the dreaded potlucks. PTA meetings made him want to give up on this whole ‘reenter society' schtick and lock himself back in the Tower for good. 

 The crime fighting part was no walk in the park either. For all that Gosalyn was growing into the role of Quiverwing, making it her own, with the help of the two best teachers she could’ve asked for, there was a lot she just still wasn’t ready to face. Things that Drake hadn’t been ready to face, and haunted him still. Demons, alternate dimensions, a monster carrying out evil while wearing his face, Bulba lumbering back from the dead, more machine than man.

Safe to say they saw their fair share of danger, and weirdness, in St. Canard. But sitting in the Thunderquack with Launchpad’s boss, his former SHUSH handler, and a fellow worried father was…something else. 

For almost two years, Launchpad’s job in Duckburg had been just that: a job. One that came at the request of SHUSH, and more specifically the buff Mary Puffins currently sitting in the copilot seat. The life of the richest duck in the world was apparently in danger, at risk by FOWL and their shadowy machinations, and everyone knew McDuck wasn’t the same man he was a decade ago.

Drake didn’t care about McDuck, much less whatever was going on in their perfect sister city of Duckburg. As great as a second income would be for Gos’ college fund, he wasn’t about to pressure Launchpad into accepting a SHUSH assignment now, after everything he’d told Drake, and all the worst bits that he’d probably left out. If Drake’s own SHUSH stipend as an independent contractor wasn’t enough to suit their needs, then Launchpad could open another garage in the city, or an online shop for his knitting, or even a damn lemonade stand. 

But no. As a favor to Beakley (who didn’t deserve Launchpad’s time of day, but that was just Drake’s opinion), he accepted the position as McDuck’s chauffeur. And it was…fine. 

Launchpad drove the old coot to and from his meetings, collected dry cleaning, the usual. He would pick up Gos from her hockey practice on the way home, nap with Drake for a while, and then they’d either suit up as a family or someone would stay behind to help Gos with her language arts homework. It was their routine, and amid various potentially life-altering catastrophes, it was nearly perfect. 

And then McDuck got it in his head to start adventuring again at the ripe old age of 800 years old, dragging an entire spontaneous gaggle of children and Launchpad along with him. Suddenly, Drake could go entire days without seeing his husband, or Gos her father, as he gallivanted off to parts unknown at the beck and call of an old man who’d never appreciated him in the first place. 

Now, Launchpad was the kindest soul Drake had ever met, open with his affection, and ready to make friends with everyone from derelict superheroes to business-minded witches. But Drake’s darling, beautiful husband was not the most forthright individual, and this was coming from the reigning champ of emotional stuntedness. 

Launchpad liked to feel useful. Scratch that. Launchpad needed to feel useful. It was a compulsion born from his years at SHUSH, where his skills were all that mattered to people. Even allies, friends (and some more-than-friends), would drop him as soon as the mission was complete, the day was saved. Launchpad would be left in the lurch, told to pack his things, move onto the next mission, and wonder why he hadn’t done enough for them to let him stay. 

So Drake, grudgingly, understood why Launchpad hadn’t just told McDuck to buzz off and find himself another pilot. He cared about the miserable old miser, and he cared about the kids, who sounded nearly as spirited as Gos from the way he described them. 

More than once, Launchpad actually floated the idea of holding some kind of get-together for all of them, but Drake had been…resistant. He didn’t like meeting new people at the best of times, and he was still so traumatized by the Muddlefoots that he would’ve forced them to move years ago if it wouldn’t mean earning ‘Worst Father of the Year Award’ for separating Gos from Honker. 

Of course, Launchpad’s disappearing act forced the dreaded introduction anyway, because Drake’s life was nothing if not a series of jokes played at his expense. At the very least, once he entered the coordinates into the Thunderquack’s navigation system and the cockpit sealed, none of the three other ducks on board had much interest in smalltalk. 

From the copilot’s seat, Beakley turned toward him sharply, expression tight and any indication of stress tucked away. Back to business then. 

“Who is this enemy of yours that you suspect to be responsible?” 

Beneath them, Duckburg blurred past in shades of ochre as the distant sun inched toward the bay. Drake stared straight ahead, gripping the yoke just to have something to do with his hands, as the autopilot took care of the actual flying. 

Technically he could only suspect who might be responsible. If based on a simple process of elimination it was almost a foregone conclusion, taking into account who wasn’t currently in jail but also had the cunning and/or intimidation factor to gain access to SHUSH systems. Not to mention a single-minded hatred of Drake that would motivate them to ignore every bit of actual highly sensitive and ultra-classified intelligence up for grabs.

For once, Drake desperately hoped he was wrong. He prayed they’d get to this SHUSH blacksite and find Lilliput lying in wait instead. But he could never be that lucky.

“Negaduck,” he muttered, the name escaping him on a breath. In his peripheral vision, he saw McDuck and Donald stiffen at his tone, more apprehensive that he would’ve liked. 

“He’s me,” Drake explained haltingly. “Sort of. At least, he’s a version of me from an alternate dimension.”

Behind him, Donald dropped his head into one hand. “Of course he is…” he despaired quietly. “Cuz being from this dimension would be too simple.”

“McDuck.” Drake turned his head slightly without facing the quadrillionaire directly. “Do you remember a scientist who worked for you three years ago? Thadeus Waddlemeyer. He was trying to create a machine to access other dimensions.” 

“A-aye,” McDuck said slowly. “But he…passed, and his device was deemed too unstable after it was stolen and nearly destroyed St. Canard.”

Drake scowled at the windshield. ‘Passed’ was a kinder way of saying murdered, and as much as the reminder burned him, he distantly appreciated McDuck’s tact if nothing else. “Yeah,” he grunted. “Our dimension’s Waddlemeyer wasn’t able to crack the code, but the Waddlemeyer of the Negaverse did.” 

“Negaverse?” Donald repeated. 

Drake thought for a moment of how Bellum and his kid had first explained it to him, reeling after his first and last disastrous visit. 

“Think of it like a mirror of our dimension, but the funhouse kind. Almost everyone, everything, is twisted so that they’re the opposite of who we are here, now. There, Waddlemeyer was a mad scientist, willing to sell the Ramrod to the highest bidder. There, SHUSH is trying to take over the world, while FOWL is a peacekeeping organization working to stop them, yadda yadda, you get the picture. 

“There, the Negaverse version of me terrorized St. Canard. He stole the Ramrod, plus Waddlemeyer’s granddaughter, and used it to cross over into our dimension to try and take over here too. I found where he was hiding his Ramrod about six months ago, and destroyed it, trapping him here. Which he, uh…extra hates me for.”

“What can we expect from him?” Beakley demanded. Drake had noticed her expectant silence up until now, and his aggravation had been building steadily For all that she was ‘retired’ from SHUSH, clearly she still had access to mission briefings—his and Launchpad’s in particular, seeing how she just couldn’t leave his husband alone. She could probably guess Negaduck’s MO, if she didn’t already have his full psych profile memorized. 

“Well he’s insane, for starters,” Drake said for the benefit of the ducks in the rear of the plane. “But don’t underestimate him—he’s dangerously smart, too, and just plain dangerous. He hides all kinds of weapons on his person: knives, guns, chainsaws, whatever you can think of that causes maximum pain.”

Donald’s breath wheezed out of him, and that got Drake to finally turn around. The duck was clutching a hand to his chest, looking ashen beneath his feathers. McDuck was reaching out to him but hesitantly, his hands hovering over his nephew’s shoulders without touching. 

“What about the kids?” Donald asked shakily, and Drake accepted a rare pang of guilt. 

He didn’t know Donald, had never cared to know him, but Launchpad always sang his praises as a father. How despite whatever nonsense McDuck dragged them into, Donald’s first priority was always his kids, whether that meant driving to every Junior Woodchuck troop meeting or fighting actual Greek gods to keep them safe. And now two of those kids were gone. Taken, purely through bad luck and worse timing. 

Drake didn’t know how Donald could possibly be holding himself together as well as he was. Knowing Launchpad’s life was at stake because of him had Drake’s leaden stomach turning on itself, his hands trembling around the yoke and terror swimming poisonously through his veins. He could see Launchpad’s bedhead and sleepy smile in his mind’s eye and wanted to scream. Knowing Gos was safe in that damn mansion was the only thing keeping him sane. He couldn’t well imagine how he’d feel if she’d been taken too. Just the thought was enough to pour red-hot rage into his bones, enough for him to tap into the darkness that Negaduck wholly embodied and rip and claw and tear until he got her back.

But here, now, at least he had an idea of what to expect. Donald was going in blind, and the uncertainty must’ve been eating him alive. 

“He won’t do anything to them, or to Launchpad, until we get there,” Drake tried to reassure, not sure if he was all that successful. This was usually more Launchpad’s wheelhouse. “Fortunately, he’s your typical megalomaniacal supervillain in at least one way: he likes an audience.” 

He didn’t mention that Negaduck’s hatred of him was borderline obsessive. Creating this whole convoluted scheme just to lure him out by way of kidnapping Launchpad probably spoke for itself. But Negaduck had gone after Gos before with bombs and a shark on her first night out as Quiverwing, and that was before he learned she was part of his team. And now after that hack, he had to know who she really was. 

Drake’s only guarantee was that Negaduck wouldn’t kill Launchpad or the two missing children (Dewey and Webby, he reminded himself), but he had no idea what state they would be in when he found them. At best, he hadn’t laid a finger on them, but Drake knew Launchpad, knew that beneath the surface of the gentle giant was Double-O-Duck, the spy, the bruiser, with all of his focus and skill. He wouldn’t have taken the kids’ capture lying down, so if anyone was already injured and especially at Negaduck’s mercy, it would have to be Drake’s husband.

Negaduck had no more love for Launchpad than he did for Drake, but this time he hoped to use it to his advantage. Once he knew Darkwing was in the building, he wouldn’t care about anyone else, beelining for his dimensional counterpart with fire and brimstone in his eyes and a chainsaw aimed for Drake’s neck. A brawl would be the perfect distraction while Beakley and the others searched for their kidnapees. 

Then, once Launchpad was safe in his arms, he would be taking a leave of absence from the McDuck family, effective immediately. Drake was taking him and Gos to their cabin out by Launchpad’s parents’ house and barring the door, because Drake had been missing his husband and Gos needed her Papá. For too long, he’d been letting Launchpad burn the candle at both ends, journeying back and forth between home and Duckburg, jungle adventures and night patrol, because he knew how much Launchpad loved both of his families. But Launchpad always had more love to give than there were hours in the day (or night), and Drake had to put his foot down before Launchpad gave all of himself away. 

And not to be petty, but Drake and Gos had first dibs.  

He watched the gray arches of the Audubon Bay Bridge rise into view through the windshield, painted in shades of gold that only deepened the shadows cast by the towers. Relief flooded Drake at the familiar sight. 

“Almost there,” he muttered aloud. The Thunderquack banked to the left, in the direction of the harbor. Launchpad’s last coordinates was leading them toward the spookier part of the docks that tended to have ‘MURDER’ written all over them, where the warehouses were crumbling and seemingly long-abandoned, but nearly all served as a front for some kind of smuggling ring or demon-worshiping cult or devout Quackerware salesmen. Just the place SHUSH would think to settle down in, for reputation’s sake if nothing else. But in the process of building their prison, they would’ve cleared out the surrounding riffraff too. Instead, neither had happened. 

Drake glanced at Beakley. “Do you know anything about why this place was shut down?”

“I believe it was something to do with the foundations of the pre-existing structure,” she explained unhappily. “The prison was decommissioned and left unfinished as further construction put the entire building at risk of collapse.” 

Drake grimaced. “Perfect. I think I’m gonna park on the warehouse next door.”

Just hold on, Launchpad. We’re coming. 

-

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!”

A voice that sounded like it belonged to someone who gargled razor blades dragged Launchpad back to aching consciousness. Even before he opened his eyes, he was struck by the overwhelming pressure in his head, as if someone had put his temples in a vice. His chest felt tight, like his lungs didn’t have room to expand, and his breaths were short and labored. 

When he managed to crack his eyes open, he found himself looking out into darkness. He thought he could see shapes moving amidst the black, formless and indistinct. But a spotlight switched on directly above him with a heavy clang, temporarily blinding him. He winced, jerking his hands up to shield his face, but all he managed was to make his body sway in place. Thick rope bound him from his arms up to his ankles and a latch of some sort on his back held him suspended several feet off the ground, upside down, like a worm on a hook. 

“Look who finally decided to join the land of the living,” Negaduck crooned, his voice preceding him into the circle of light spilling out on the ground around Launchpad’s head. The shadows clung to Negaduck like oil, reluctant to leave his already dingy feathers and unpleasant smile. 

Launchpad glared at him. At this height, they were nearly eye to eye. “Where are the kids?”

This dark reflection of his husband tsked, shaking his head. “Straight to business with you hero types, ain’t it?” 

Negaduck didn’t stop moving, instead pacing around him, slow and quiet, just on the edge of the circle of light. Launchpad tried to hide how he tensed when Negaduck stepped behind him, out of his peripheral vision. It gave Negaduck the perfect opportunity to attack him any way he wanted: a knife to the ribs, a blow to the head, take your pick. Launchpad was bound like a mummy, unable to defend himself unless Negaduck got close enough for a headbutt. 

But Negaduck leaned back into his line of sight without laying a finger on him, his smirk a mean, methodical thing. He knew exactly how rattled Launchpad had been. It was the intent. “No time to sit back and enjoy the moment?” he crooned. 

“I’m not playing, Negaduck,” Launchpad bit out, struggling to keep his cool. “I’m gonna ask one more time. Where. Are. The kids?”

Negaduck snorted, less than intimidated. “Eugh, touchy, touchy,” he said mockingly, and gave Launchpad a hard shove that sent him careening back on the rope he was hanging from. Fortunately, he’d been bound in the center of the room, and didn’t smack his head on any of the walls. This time. 

Launchpad swung forward with just as much momentum, and Negaduck smoothly stepped out of the way. “Fine then, if you’re gonna keep being a killjoy! The brats are fine. Still sittin’ pretty in their comfy cell waiting for rescue from old man McMoneybags.”

So Negaduck wasn’t so far gone as to hurt a member of the McDuck family. The relief that settled over him was short lived, but better than nothing. 

The last thing he remembered was checking Dewey for a concussion, and then nothing. Negaduck must’ve come back for him at some point during that missing time; maybe Launchpad should be tested for a concussion. All the crashing he did had given him a strong stomach and a skull like concrete, but with the blood rushing to his head and pounding behind his eyes, all this spinning wasn’t doing him any favors. 

He closed his eyes as his swaying slowed to a less extreme speed, trying to focus his scattered thoughts. Webby and Dewey were counting on him. They didn’t understand what was happening, what they were up against, because Launchpad never told them who he was, never warned them about the monsters that might follow him. Dewey didn’t even trust him anymore, and Webby couldn’t be far behind…

“What do you want?” Launchpad muttered, opening his eyes in a squint. 

Just in time too, as any trace of levity vanished from Negaduck’s weathered face. He lunged forward with a snarl, grabbing a handful of the ropes binding Launchpad and dragging him close, until Negaduck’s bloodshot eyes bored into his own from inches away.

“What do I want? What do I want? What I’ve always wanted since I set foot in this craphole,” he hissed, razor teeth flashing yellow in the harsh light of the spotlight above them. “I want to see your world burn. Consider it payback for locking me outta mine.”

Time worked funny sometimes when you crossed dimensions. A few hours in their reality amounted to a week in the Negaverse, but it might as well have been a year for all that he and Drake saw, what they were forced to do. Enemies wearing the faces of friends, a desolate world overcome by evil and defended by a dwindling few. The brilliant little light they had no choice but to leave behind. 

Launchpad sneered right back, thrashing uselessly against his restraints. “‘Your world’ is better off without you! Gosalyn is better off without—”

The glint of light reflecting off metal, and Launchpad became aware of the cut on his cheek at the same time he recognized Negaduck’s machete pressed against the tip of his beak. He had to admit, Negaduck had been quick about it. Launchpad hadn’t even seen him draw the blade. 

“Keep her name outta your mouth unless you wanna lose your tongue!” he growled, expression gone cold and still with rage except for his eyes, which contorted and flickered. His own madness, made worse by the dimensional shift? They still weren’t sure. “She’s my daughter. Mine.”

“She was terrified of you,” Launchpad snapped, never one to back down even while staring death in the face. Not when it came to Gosalyn. Any Gosalyn. “And with good reason! You killed Bulba right in front of her—”

“That pathetic, wannabe hero was trying to take her from me!” Negaduck threw his hands in the air, machete and all, thankfully without slicing Launchpad up further. The cut on his cheek had started to weep, a trail of blood moving worryingly close to his eye. “He got what was coming to him,” Negaduck grumbled as he turned around, storming into the darkness that continued to loom around the narrow triangle of light surrounding Launchpad. He lingered there, all but consumed in the shadows, the lurid yellow of his suit a scant outline and only his machete occasionally catching the light. 

Negaduck kept muttering to himself, but in the dark, Launchpad couldn’t be sure where he was, or what he was saying. Only that Negaduck was moving, circling Launchpad again, but more focused on talking to himself than actually intimidating him. 

“All those heroes…ruining my city…”

And for a brief, tiny, inconsequential half-second, Launchpad almost pitied him. 

He blamed the blood rushing to his head. 

This poor facsimile of his husband, a black hole masquerading as a person, who only knew how to take: money, lives, peace. A monster who hurt others for his own pleasure because violence was all he knew. It was as terrifying to experience as it was exhausting. 

Launchpad glared at a random spot in the dark, his head pounding and chest growing tight. If he stayed up here much longer, he was going to pass out. It was only a matter of when.

“What are you expecting to get out of this?” he asked plainly. “You know I can’t just give you the Solego Circuit, right?”

Negaduck came back to himself with a scoff, reentering the circle of light. He’d hidden the machete again at some point. 

“Piece of junk wouldn’t even do me any good. SHUSH and FOWL are sayin’ the same thing—can’t use the damn portal without destroying this trash heap and my world in the process,” he declared, waving his hands theatrically. “So, until I can find a scientist willing to put their back into it, I’m still stuck here. Watching you and that cheap copy play house.”

Launchpad glare met Negaduck’s baleful glower unflinchingly, but internally, a rush of guilt left him breathless as a knee to the gut. He knew he shouldn’t have followed that distress signal. But what else could he have done? Communications were down, and Launchpad had begged Drake time and time again to just call him when he needed him, Darkwing didn’t have to be alone anymore. And Launchpad, terrified of being abandoned again, just couldn’t risk it. 

He just wished that he hadn’t dragged Webby and Dewey into danger too. 

“You made a mistake taking the kids,” Launchpad said, fighting against a wave of dizziness. He tried to keep his tone steady, like Double-O-Duck used to, his gaze piercing and locked on the wet shine of Negaduck’s eyes, cast in the shadow of his hat brim. “Instead of just Darkwing coming after you, you’re getting Scrooge McDuck. This is a guy who fights gods on a regular basis. How do you think you’ll do against someone like that?”

And Negaduck…laughed. 

And not one of his long, rambling cackles that he followed up his evil monologues with. Negaduck snorted with laughter, expression one of mild amusement rather than incandescent rage or insult. 

“Ah, doesn’t really matter,” Negaduck breathed, a chuckle still trailing on his words. He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. “This was all more of an experiment.” He stepped forward, until they were eye to eye, and grabbed a handful of the ropes over Launchpad’s heart. He was too dazed to even try headbutting him now, and by the razor smirk that split his beak, Negaduck must’ve known it too. 

“The big, bad Double-O, scourge of SHUSH, turned into a pitiful little sidekick, and now completely at my mercy,” Negaduck murmured, shaking his head in exaggerated disappointment. “I could kill you so easily right now. But where’s the fun in that? It’s one and done, until I can jump into a dimension where I haven’t killed you yet and do it all over again. There’s slow and painful, quick but bloody…we could do a round where I only use my knives, the really little ones. You ever heard of death by a thousand cuts? Cuz we can make that happen!”

Launchpad’s skull pounded like a second heartbeat had taken residence in his brain, and the bright bulb above him scattered fractured stars across his vision, bright to the point of pain. Overwhelmed and dazed, he sputtered, “So what was the point of all this? Hacking SHUSH, kidnapping us—”

Negaduck pushed Launchpad, with just the one hand on his chest, walking forward at the same time. They moved out of the circle of light and into the surrounding darkness, Launchpad’s stomach lurched as Negaduck kept moving, until his back nearly touched the far off wall. Negaduck only stopped when the rope keeping Launchpad suspended pulled infinitesimally taut. 

He tilted his head to look at Launchpad then from under the brim of his hat, backlit by the lone, scorching lightbulb behind him. Negaduck didn’t smile as he spoke, all his twisted enthusiasm from earlier snuffed out between one blink and the next. His growl was quiet, a seething hatred beneath every word. 

“I might not kill you right now, but make no mistake, I will kill you. And until that glorious day, I want you to go about every day of your insipid little lives knowing that you’ll never be safe from me.”

Launchpad clung to consciousness with a racing heart and a flagging will, his horror tempered by delirium. 

“You’re insane,” he gasped. 

Negaduck shrugged. “We’ve all got our part to play in this crazy game called life.”

Launchpad’s vision was beginning to tunnel when the deafening blare of alarms startled him back to partial awareness. Outside the door to his cell, the hallway was ablaze with strobing crimson lights. The distant pounding of running feet heralded the organized departure of the Eggheads, converging on the threat. 

“There’s our hero,” Negaduck crowed. “Fashionably late, as usual.”

Before Launchpad could properly brace himself, Negaduck let go of him. Without the support pinning him against the wall, he swung forward in a graceless rush, letting out a yelp as bright spots burst across his sight. 

Even in the midst of his disorientation, Launchpad caught a different flash of light, reflecting off the silver edge of a serrated dagger in Negaduck’s grip.

With a flick, he threw it upwards at the apex of Launchpad’s swing, severing the rope holding him suspended from the ceiling. He had the barest second to brace himself, tuck his head and curve his back so he landed on his shoulders instead of his head. 

It still sent a painful jolt through Launchpad’s body, jarring every bruise and sprain at once, and the immediate drop of pressure on his skull left him lightheaded and woozy as his body set him to rights. 

He rolled onto his side with a groan, forcing his eyes open in a narrow squint, looking up at Negaduck from upside down. 

Making a show of straightening his suit, Negaduck reached inside and pulled out a shotgun. He grinned down at Launchpad with a mouthful of sharpened teeth as he loaded a round. 

“Make yourself comfortable now, sidekick. I’ve gotta go and welcome my new guests.” 

[breannasfluff]

Don’t eat that. 

Three words. 11 letters. Don’t; do not. Eat; the act of consuming, tasting, or chewing. That; what in the name of Ordonia are you holding—?

If Twilight was human, he’d consider beating his head against a wall. He’s stuck as a wolf, though, so he settles for head-butting a tree. 

Okay? Time asks, watching. 

No, he says, petulant. 

Wild, for his part, is happily munching his way through another mysterious mushroom. If he doesn’t get food poisoning he’s going to get actually poisoned from something toxic. 

Somehow, Twilight doesn’t think the Goddess will accept he’s a gremlin as the cause of death for her hero. 

No, instead the rancher has the dubious honor of watching any and everything go into the cub’s mouth. The kid is a blank slate; a little too blank. The world is an amazing discovery to him and muscle memory seems to be the only thing left. 

Cub, no! Time interrupts Twilight’s thoughts. He looks up to find Wild contemplating—is that another rock? 

No, no, no! Twilight abandons his tree to jump at the cub, knocking the rock back into the underbrush. 

Wild howls, batting at him. Snack! Tasty?

No! Don’t eat that! Not food!

Snack?

No!

The cub gives him a sly look. Only testing.

He’s not and he knows it. Good with kids Twilight might be, but that’s when he’s Hylian and can hold a full conversation with the person in question. Time isn’t much help, through no fault of his own. He may have appeared to Twilight as a golden wolf, but it’s clear he’s not used to a canine form like Twilight is. His body language is rusty for communication and he’s pretty sure Time tripped over his own paws at least twice. 

Still, this is a side of Time the rancher is happy to get to know. Sword skills may have helped on his journey, but this experience is deepening their bond. 

No! Once again, Time’s bark has Twilight jerking back to the situation at hand. 

Wild pauses, berry halfway to his lips. 

With a sigh, Twilight trots over to sniff the berry. Yes, okay, he says with an exaggerated nod to get the point across. 

Wild pops it in his mouth, followed by three others. Juice smears his lips and his teeth are purple when he grins. Here! Share! He tosses a berry to Twilight, who catches it out of the air with a snap. 

Time’s berry bounces off his nose and he has to hold back a snicker. The stink eye he gets in return says his mentor knows he’s laughing anyway. 

~

Pup. Here, now. Time’s bark is all serious and Twilight wakes groggily. 

Standing, he yawns and stretches his front paws, claws digging into the dirt. 

Pup! 

Time’s not really saying pup; it’s more little-pack-protect-young, but the rancher’s wolf-minded brain easily translates it for his Hylian half. 

Coming, coming. With another yawn, Twilight ambles to the outskirts of the clearing where Time was keeping an eye on the cub. 

Help. The whine needs no translation and Twilight is instantly wide awake. 

Wild is curled on the ground, half under a bush, and whimpering. 

Cub? Hurt? Twilight steps forward and nudges him, nose wrinkling at the sour smell around him. 

Wild only moans, pressing his forehead to the ground. His cheeks are flushed red and he’s sweating. 

What? What? Twilight turns back to Time for an explanation, but the other wolf is as lost as he is. How can they help a Hylian without hands? 

Twilight tries again, Hurt? Sick? Why are they locked to this pantomime of language? He can’t help if he doesn’t know what’s wrong!

The cub doesn’t answer, just jerks away to be sick. His lips are stained nearly black, matched by the dark color of his vomit. 

Time whines steadily, crawling on his belly to Wild and looking to Twilight for help. He nudges the hero again and his hands unclench, something rolling free. 

It’s smashed, but Twilight recognizes the sharp, sour smell. Poison berries. 

He runs through every curse he can think of and makes some up for good measure. How is he supposed to care for a sick Hylian like this? 

Sick, bad, do not eat. 

Hurt? Time’s attention is sharpening at Twilight’s words. 

Hurt, he confirms. Danger.

The two wolves turn to look at their cub. Wild whimpers and curls in a tighter ball, clutching his stomach. They have no fairies or potions, or any way to provide first aid. The most the wolves can do is keep him company. And pray. 

It takes two full days of sickness and misery for Wild’s body to stop rebelling. Partway through Time helps Twilight bully the cub onto his feet and lead him to a stream for water. 

His whimpers cut, but it’s better than him becoming dehydrated on top of it. Nothing will stay down, but hopefully, it means the last of the poison is expelled as well. 

Time’s wears his paw pads raw pacing and Twilight can barely keep his eyes open. He appoints himself on watch most hours, even though he can do little while Wild sweats and pants. By the time the color fades from the cub’s cheeks, everyone is exhausted.

Hungry. 

It takes a long, dull moment for Twilight to focus on Wild and translate body language into words. He gives another yip, repeating it. Hungry!

Stay! No hunt! Time’s snarl has Wild cowering back into his shallow cave-den

Twilight shoots his mentor a tired look before crawling in next to him. Safe, peace, food yes.

Time seems unconvinced until Twilight gestures with his head. He will stay with the cub and Time can find him food. Safe food. 

It takes a while for him to return and when he does he’s covered in dirt. However, he’s gripping a large radish by the stalk. It may not be the best food for a sensitive stomach, but it doesn’t need to be cooked. 

Wild snatches the vegetable, then begrudgingly washes it in the stream when Time snarls warningly. The first few bites stay down and some of the clamminess fades from his skin. 

Twilight wiggles into the cave first, flopping on his belly so Wild can cuddle into his fur. Time joins on the other side, sandwiching him. 

“S-sorry,” Wild whispers. Then again, sorry, with a duck of his head and low whine. 

Oh, Cub. Scared, worried, keep you safe. 

On the other side, Time thrums, packmate, safe, love.

Finally settling, Wild rumbles back his own love, love, pack before drifting into quiet sleep. 

Also posted on A03 here!