#also reading fics have helped a little too
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Note
I dont know why I had this vision of clora riding a scooter, like a cute light blue one with italy vibes, like a vespa, and sebastian panicking behind her LMAO
I SEE THE VISION AS WELL...idk how shes on a vespa tho since they werent invented yet so lets just assume theres time-turner shenanigans going on LMAO
but also anon this request was so funny to me because the SAME day you sent me it, i also got this one on twitter:
TRULY THE DUALITY OF MAN IS AT PLAY HERE!!! LMAOO debauchery vs wholesomeness...and it made me laugh so much
(and for anyone curious yes i WILL also be honouring the other request......eventually👀)
@jstfndmthngs splitting your ask into 2 again bc its a CHONKER but I LOVED READING IT🥹🥹 "how much they love each other to the abnormal level that i envy" LMAOO THATS FANFICTION FOR YOU, BABY!!😍 also YESS interacting with my readers in the comments was my fav parts of writing a lot of the time, and im SOOO grateful to the ppl who commented bc without them the story would have turned out DRASTICALLY DIFFERENT. like, i know there are some people who write the entirety of their fanfic and then upload it in chunks, but if i had done that/written my story in a vacuum and hadnt incorporated any of my readers ideas/suggestions it would have been SOOOO much worse honestly LMAO. like, not even necessarily putting their requests or ideas in my fic, but even sometimes just reading a comment that would say something like "i cant wait to see how clora/seb reacts to..." would make me think...oh. i was never planning on even showing their reaction to that. but now that they say that, good point, i definitely need to include that LOL. so yeah even just little stuff like that was SUPER important to my writing process and my story and helped me keep in mind what people wanted to see/things i may have missed or glossed over if i'd been writing by myself, but i also just loved getting comments in general bc i loved reading them and they were so motivating🥹 BUT THANK U SO MUCH IM GLAD U LIKED MY STORY/SEB & CLORA SO MUCH, AND TY FOR SHARING ALL YOUR THOUGHTS WITH ME!!🥹💖💖 im lowkey the same way... i cant read any other fics rn bc im still too attached to seb/clora BAHAHA so i still need to give it some time before i delve into other HL fics (i even downloaded a program that will let me replace names so that i can replace the mc's name with clora's LMFAOOOO THATS HOW MENTALLY ILL I AM ABOUT THEM!!😭😭DONT COME FOR ME🏃♀️🏃♀️🚓)
omg...i already love unlocking kinks in people but for it to be specifically seb x clora is even more of an honour BAHAHA omg i love that....but i get it too. clora is submissive and breedable af😍LMAOO (im sorry💀that wasnt me just now that was seb blame him)
@acrenna MERRY LATE CHRISTMAS AND ALSO LATE HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! this is so sweet THANK YOU SO MUCH😭😭im happy my story was able to get you out of your reading slump!! (and hopefully will continue to, with my oneshot im slowly but surely working on😩) BUT THANK YOU AGAIN I APPRECIATE YOU SM🥹🥹💖
@misskkfritz you actually arent the first to say this and i also saw a pinterest comment on my art say this........FELLAS DO I NEED TO WATCH GILMORE GIRLS NOW🤔🤔🤔
#ask#i always wanted a vespa because of zoey 101 DOES ANYONE REMEMBER THOSE THINGS THEY RODE i was so jealous LMFAO#also i think all fanfic writers should be able to give themselves amnesia at least once so we can read our fics and enjoy them as a reader#bc they are literally MADE for us and have all the stuff we like in them#EVERYBODY GETS ONE(1)#vote me in as president. as your first canadian president this will be my first decree. we'll figure it out
198 notes
·
View notes
Text
lingering pats and stolen kisses 日 ── ot8 [hyung line] skz ; how is pda with your boyfriend?
𓍯 hyung-line idol!skz ʚଓ fem!reader :( 𝒾 )0.7k ── ༯ HEADCANONS, tooth rotting fluff, kisses, hugs, established relationship, req. by anon . ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY. /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\ྀིྀི
yani's note ˖˙ ᰋ and she makes a comeback !! i'm sorry for the sudden infamous inactive era AGAIN, the past two weeks were well.. very busy and i wasn't in the right headspace at all, but i'm better now! i was also binge reading the powerless trilogy so.. maybe expect some fics about it too? thank y'all for 430 followers <3 and thanks to anon for the request, hope you like it! comments, requests, asks, likes and reblogs are always appreciated ! comment/ask if you want to be added to my mastertag ! happy reading <3
chris ୨୧ he is definitely the type who does not give two shits. he will kiss you whenever he wishes to; at the recording studio, when 3racha and maybe even rest of his members are recording for the coming album; in breaks; during practice when you come visit him, or when you’re at his shared dorm with jeongin. this man will not hesitate once to pull you onto his lap, and pressing light, feather kisses to your lips, cheeks, nose, forehead, with soft pats on your head or middle. however it’s hard to miss how adorable he looks when crimson rises up his cheeks, ears and neck, grin widening as deep chuckles leave his mouth- followed by a glare, because seungmin probably calls you two grandparents or just him, an old man. he will get shy and flustered when his members tease him — but that won’t stop him from fulfilling his wishes, after some giggling !! he needs to have his arm around you, or fingers lacing yours or his on your thigh, at all times. a simple act that helps him ground, knowing you’re there with him. and of course, he will keep a limit to the pda, not wanting to cringe out or distract his members — or get himself carried away with you.
minho ୨୧ this man is definitely a ruthless tease. you're around him and the members, he's leaning in close, your noses touching. the next thing you know, he flicks your nose with that stupid grin on his face, sprinting away to continue practicing or whatever it was that he was doing. but the teasing ends soon, as he just can't help but be beside you all the time. have his hand on your lower back, hips (living up to the butthunter title), or even holding your hands if you're lucky. he will fold but pretend to act nonchalant when you give him a peck on the cheek- or lips.
changbin ୨୧ okay hmo. he loves loves LOVES back hugs. it doesn’t matter if he’s on the giving or receiving end. he just loves them. also forehead kisses and cuddling even if it’s brief !!!!!!!!!!!!!! he is down bad for physical affection, definitely. having you on his lap, or his arms around your waist, and caressing your skin. pecks on the lips for sure. he won’t mind the others but he will get shy but a little when the members tease him or hyunjin feigns hurt of his wife leaving him; only for you to fluster your boyfriend more after another kiss. a big baby, always wanting to be close to you. (dying rn)
hyunjin ୨୧ he is such a romantic guy. when it comes to pda, i think he's definitely very touchy. in a good way; he might be back-hugging you, resting his chin on your head or shoulder, or leaving a ghost of a kiss at the back of your neck, under your hairline. probably also likes if your fingers are intertwined too, with him kissing your knuckles. he will not leave your side, at all !!!!!!!!! you're like his personal lucky charm. maybe during a break from practice, he'll be showing you the new choreo and maybe even teaching it to you so you to try it.. but i bet the two of you will get carried away, and will either be making out very intimately or start ballroom-dancing while giggling like elementary kids. he really loves you and will show it every minute !!
hyunjin ୨୧ he is such a romantic guy. when it comes to pda, i think he's definitely very touchy. in a good way; he might be back-hugging you, resting his chin on your head or shoulder, or leaving a ghost of a kiss at the back of your neck, under your hairline. probably also likes if your fingers are intertwined too, with him kissing your knuckles. he will not leave your side, at all !!!!!!!!! you're like his personal lucky charm. maybe during a break from practice, he'll be showing you the new choreo and maybe even teaching it to you so you to try it.. but i bet the two of you will get carried away, and will either be making out very intimately or start ballroom-dancing while giggling like elementary kids. he really loves you and will show it every minute !!
mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily
#𐔌 . yani's fics ! ୧#࣪ 𑄾 ₊ ˙ luvies ask ִ ࣪ㅤ⋆ ᧔ꪫ ִ#skz#kpop#skz stay#stray kids#straykids#stray kids imagines#lee know#bang chan#hyunjin#changbin#hyunglineimagine#hyungline#skzhyunglineimagine#skz hyung line#skz x you#skz x reader#skz imagines#stray kids imagine#stray kids x reader#stray kids texts#stray kids fake texts#stray kids fluff#skz fluff#bangchan x female reader#bangchan x you#bangchan x reader#bangchan stray kids#bangchan fluff
192 notes
·
View notes
Text
So I had one holiday prompt that I couldn't include in the big holiday prompt fic I posted last week, and I also have been receiving some really sweet and cute ideas that weren't exactly requests, but the ideas were so nice that I wanted to write something for them. I've gathered them into one story that I hope isn't disappointing. I had intended to do separate, cute little drabbles, but I had a bad day the other day and somehow uh, really dark angst happened, and then I used the ideas people sent for the comfort half of the fic? So please forgive me for just... taking it as dark as you can go before including the sweet, cute ideas that people requested. I hope you like the result anyway, although please read the content warnings. Several of the people who sent requests/ideas apologized for doing so, as if sending the ideas was 'too much', but you don't have to apologize for sending asks. My requests are open, and I like seeing everyone's ideas even if I don't end up being able to write for them, or if I tweak them a little to make them work for the story that comes out of my brain despite my best laid plans to stick to an outline.
The river | ao3 | masterlist
It's Christmas Eve, you're at the end of your rope after an absolutely awful year, and you decide to end it all after pushing everyone in your life away. Sylus pulls you from the brink and convinces you to keep going.
Sylus x fem reader, Sylus x mc, hurt/comfort, angst, grief, banter, fluff. CW: attempted suicide, depressed thoughts, NSFW, Sylus penetrating reader (this is not sex ed, do not follow these idiots' example, no discussion of condom or birth control, this is fantasy and we're not going to worry about that in the fic)
Ask #1 You asked to keep sending silly little ideas for you to write so I thought I'd give my own request! After Caleb and Gran (supposedly) die it's pretty much canon that MC refuses help from their friends and isolates themself in certain ways. I always imagine MC sometimes sees Sylus as "the only one they have left" since he is the only one who goes out of his way to check up on MC. But MC kinda grows to resent this and has a moment when their drunk/really going through it and basically ask Sylus why he doesn't leave them be so they can just rot away in peace. Sorry if this is too lengthy or I'm overstepping! Brain worms are getting to me
Ask #2 Okay, so random thoughts here, but do you know that superstition that’s like, “the places where you have moles on your body show where your lover kissed you in a past life”? But like… can you imagine what it would be like if MC had a mole in the exact spot where Sylus bit her during Abyssal Mark (cus I have one there lol) and then that superstition randomly gets brought up, only for MC to show him that mole and Sylus is just s h o o k??? N e way that’s my random thoughts lol (sorry if this is a lot 💀)
Ask #3 I love the way you write the MC and I find myself relating to them at least 99% of the time. Sometimes I just imagine them giving Sylus one of those "Do you like me? Circle yes or no!" Love letters to Sylus because they are terrified of rejection -> i wrote the MC in this story really, really depressed, so if this didn't hit the spot for you in terms of fear of rejection, let me know, and I can include your prompt in another story idea I had before this one that's a lot lighter and sweeter before I got hit by the angst truck that this fic turned out to be. just let me know!
Ask #4 the last holiday prompt! -> idk if anyone sent it yet but from the xmas prompt list, i would love to see what you do with number 8 -> I'm so sorry that this is what I did with it, I hope you like it anyway😭
Thank you everyone who has sent me ideas! If you've sent me a request and I haven't answered it yet, it's because I'm still intending to do something with it.
Here you are. Again.
At the end of a long day. A long week. A long year.
A long rope.
It’s the dark, this time of year.
Maybe.
You’re restless. You’ve passed through the Deepspace Hunters Association doors for the last time this year. Empty days of leave stretch before you.
Normally, it would still be light out, leaving this early. But not now, this deep into the year—it’s already full night, as you leave work early.
The bright lights of the building pour over your upturned face as you look back, just once. You don’t know what for. You’ve successfully severed most of the ties you had built before.
Before everything.
Tara, Xavier. After Caleb, Josephine—they reached out, over and over, and you bit their outstretched hands with your sharp, sharp teeth.
You snapped enough times that they keep their distance, now.
They’re still kind.
Tara still comes, sits on your desk, shares tidbits of gossip during the workday. But she no longer invites you along to karaoke, to after-work drinks with other coworkers.
You and Xav work in sync, as you eliminate wanderers. He walks you to your door at the end of the day. But he no longer offers to lend you books. No longer invites you to the bookstore, or to try new restaurants.
You watch his broad back as he walks away from you, down your apartment building’s hallway. He feels as far away as a star in the velvet night sky.
It’s not their fault. You did this.
You wanted this.
You turn away from the warm light beaming from the Association as you leave early, the Christmas lights glittering in the windows, the holiday party you’re skipping still in full swing in the open, sleek company restaurant area on the ground floor. A division-wide shindig, to celebrate the end of the year, the holidays.
The night is cold. Fairy lights, nets of bright pinpricks in the dark night, cover the trees lining the sidewalk. Decorative light displays stretch across the busy road at periodic intervals, over the canals that parallel the streets, the gondolas and tour-boats festive under their own lights, red ribbons flapping in the cold winter wind.
You think about how they never recovered a body.
Only Josephine’s ashes fill an urn, sitting in a cold niche of a quiet columbarium. Caleb’s urn is empty.
You start walking, fast, along the busy sidewalk. People are out shopping, scurrying to tie up last minute errands before the city shuts down for the holiday tomorrow.
You want to unzip your coat. Unzip your uniform. Unzip your skin, your ribcage. Leave all these pieces of yourself behind, for others to puzzle over. To sweep up with the rest of the refuse left over from festive party goers on the street. You want to dissipate in the cold winter air like your breath with each cursed inhale, exhale.
You settle for beginning to jog to the metro station, your feet carrying you faster, faster, your boots heavy on the sidewalk. You see it lit in the distance, but you can’t stand the thought of being underground right now. Buried alive, with all the other people. You sprint past it.
You’re graceful enough to duck and weave, not disturb anyone else, until the crowds thin.
You’re running, running, the city is streaming past, like the tears from your eyes. Wet from the cold, because you haven’t cried since waking up, your ears deafening, Caleb’s silver chain glittering in the firelight on the walk up to your grandmother’s burning house.
Tears won’t bring a body back.
You don’t know how much longer you can stand this.
The days, one after another. Alarm, moving through the dark to get to work. Moving through the dark to get back to your apartment at the end of the day.
The pain—your only constant, now. The only thing you expect, have to look forward to, day after blurred day.
An echoing emptiness, like an urn without ashes. An emptiness that feels so full that your skin could burst with it.
You think about your apartment. The festive city outside its windows. The half-opened bottle of wine in the fridge, the only thing in it.
You veer from your neighborhood. Keep running. You’re sweating under your winter coat, your heavy Hunter uniform. It doesn’t matter.
You run, and run, and run, until you run out of streets, sidewalk.
Just the river, wide and black. There is a bridge, soaring over the water, in the distance. Its lights reflected in the water, along with the urban nightscape. Stars above, stars below.
You could drown in them.
You look at the bridge.
You could drown in it all.
There’s no one left, after all.
Who will miss you?
You slow. Stop.
Your breath is heavy in the quiet air. Fairy lights sparkle here, too. Pretty swooping light displays top each lamppost along the river path.
You would have gone to identify the body, as you did with Gran. She didn’t look like herself. Not even a sleeping version of herself. They did their best, reconstructing her face. But it wasn’t the stitches, the bruising. It was that she simply wasn’t there anymore. Like a stranger’s body on display. An empty house after the residents have been forced to flee in a night of unimaginable violence.
But running your hands through her hair, one last time. It soothed something in you. Enough that you could breathe in the cold mortuary air. Could nod. Could watch as they covered her again. As they escorted you out into the bustling hospital hallways, to stand under cold fluorescent lights. To stare vacantly at the wall, until you felt a strange, familiar feeling. You looked up, saw Zayne watching you, at the end of the long hallway. You stared at him, memorizing his beautiful face. His dark hair. His severe, cold loveliness. You let yourself look one last time, and he let you. Through the people filling the hallway, each walking with purpose, they were a blur and he was across the world, across time, a part of your past that should never have reappeared in your present. It hurt too much, to look at his beautiful, distant face. He left you behind, once. He should have stayed gone. You can’t stand to experience the loss again, the loss you felt every time he listened to your heart, expressionless, a stranger with a beautiful, familiar face from your past, a past in which Caleb was still alive.
You looked at Zayne one last time, across a bustling hallway in a place full of life, of death, and he let you. You then turned, headed to the reception desk. You switched doctors, hospitals.
You blocked his number, so you’ll never know if he sent you a text, tried to call and ask why, after. He let you walk out. Which is as it should be.
You wanted this.
The water churns under the whipping wind, the fast current. It looks so cold. Cold enough to numb. Cold enough to finally put out the fire that’s been burning in you, ever since you woke up, your ears deafening, Caleb’s necklace shimmering in the flames.
You think of running your hands through his hair. Something the fire robbed you of—it would have been your first time, your last time. He would pat your head. Call you pipsqueak. Ignore your protests to not mess up your hair, to not treat you like a little kid. But he would always duck out of the way anytime you tried to return the favor, tease him, tousle his hair. His pretty brunette hair that always looked so soft. Now you’ll never know how soft it really was.
You look at the water. You look at the bridge. The car headlights meteors streaking along their guardrail-gated orbit.
You think about going home. Waking up tomorrow, Christmas Day. The silence. You think about going back to work. Killing wanderer after wanderer. Wondering which one will be the one to finally kill you.
The days blur. The constant emptiness echoing inside your apartment, inside your ribcage.
You look at the water. You look at the bridge. You imagine running your hands through Caleb’s hair for the first, the last time. A tender goodbye you’ll never have, because they never found his body.
There’s no one left to miss you.
Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You fish it out.
Rafayel no longer calls, or texts you words. He just sends photos, every once in a while. Mundane details of everyday life, rendered extraordinary through his artist’s eye. Paintings he’s working on. A foreign landscape. Leaves glistening with dew. The moon, waxing full.
You haven’t answered in months. You look at each one, tuck your phone back in your pocket.
You look back at the water. Think about taking a photo of the reflected stars, the thin crescent moon in the black waves, think of sending him one last response. But even you’re not that cruel. You don’t want him to realize later, that he was the last one to say anything to you.
You don’t open his text. You block his number. Tuck the phone back into your pocket.
You start to walk toward the bridge. As you walk, you keep your eyes on the path, its edges. Decorative, smooth stones line the walkway along the river embankment. You pick them up, here and there, as you walk. Slip them into your coat pockets.
Eventually you run out of room in your coat pockets, add more to your pants pockets.
You turn your eyes back to the bridge, looming now.
You think of your empty fridge. Josephine’s empty face. An empty urn.
You’re ready to scoop out what’s left of you, leave it behind on the sidewalk, smoldering as the cold night finally smothers the endless fire, the only thing left inside you. Maybe it will warm someone else, in passing. A last good deed, from you to someone in the world.
A metal staircase, leading up, up, into the black sky, mirroring the dark river, your heavy boots echoing. The cars are loud. If you close your eyes, they could be the rushing waves of an ocean, instead of a river of traffic, above a river of water.
You keep your eyes open. You’re not going to pretend that you’re not doing what you’re doing, now. You’re not at the ocean, its pure salt air drifting through your hair, now whipping around your face. You’re on a busy, exhaust- and oil-stained commuter bridge on the night before Christmas, having cut your ties with everyone you have always known never wanted or needed you in the first place. What’s the difference if a wanderer kills you tomorrow, or if something kills you today? Just empty time, blurry days, photo frames without pictures.
The guardrail isn’t so high as one would guess. It’s an easy step up. An easy step over. You stand, looking back over the city where you were raised. The city that contains all the past versions of yourself, from the moment you were pulled screaming into life from a mother whose face you’ll never know, through to now, an empty shell of a person. If your fellow hunters could see inside you, they’d mistake you for a wanderer and put you down, like the scientists who experimented on you, your own grandmother, did years ago.
Since learning that Gran was one of the people who fucked with your heart, you have often resented that she and her colleagues weren’t successful in finishing the job years ago, when they had the chance.
But now you wonder, standing over a dark, freezing river that reflects what’s inside you now, maybe they did finish it. You just didn’t realize it. Not till tonight, as you look down in the mirror of the rushing water, far below.
Even now, the tears won’t come.
What use are tears, when they can’t bring a body back. When they can’t wash it clean. When they can’t lovingly touch it, one last time, soft strands of hair under your fingers.
Your tears, your heart, your suffering, your existence—useless, for the entirety of a life you can only half remember.
You wonder if it’s the dark, tonight. Why tonight, and not yesterday? Why not six months ago?
Because it took that long to sever the ties binding you here?
Now you are assured, no one will miss you. It will take days before anyone even notices your absence because of your holiday leave.
You hope that they’ll assume it was a wanderer. Bad luck. Wrong time, wrong place. A modest little plaque on the wall of heroes, even though you know you’re no hero.
In the end, it doesn’t matter why it’s tonight, and not any other night.
No need to be dramatic, pretending there’s meaning in the meaningless.
You put your hands on the guardrail, the metal colder than your freezing hands. You lift a heavy booted foot. Take a deep breath.
It’s so cold. It will be over before you know it. You’ve read that from this height, it’s the impact, and not the drowning.
You’ve always had dreams of flying.
You lift your other foot, arms thrown wide for balance, just for a moment. The world feels so big, here at the end. The stars above, the stars below, the doubled crescent moon. You’re ready to drown in it all.
You only have one hope.
I don’t want to be reborn.
You breathe, empty your mind of Tara’s earnest smile, Xavier’s soft laughter, Zayne’s steady hands, Rafayel’s flashing violet eyes. Josephine’s empty face. Caleb’s soft, untouchable hair.
You let yourself fall.
You’re flying. Your heart is soaring. Your heart is seizing. The relief, the terror, mingle. You can’t scream, even if you wanted to.
You’re flying and it’s everything you ever dreamt, until it’s not.
Your body jerks, abruptly. Your hair whips down, lashes your face. You grunt with the impact against… nothing. You’re suspended over the water, drifting in the air. The wind tugs at your stone-weighted coat.
You twist away from the water, craning your neck to look up, up, back at the bridge.
You have withstood the uselessness of tears for almost a year now. But now, you want to cry so badly the pain of the need steals your breath.
You knew he was cruel. You knew he was merciless. You knew that he hated you. You just didn’t realize how much, until now.
You hang suspended over a dark, rushing river, wrapped in scarlet and ink tendrils, looking up into the sneering face of the one person you refused to think about as you made your final decision tonight, at the end of your desolate, half-remembered life.
His evol begins to lift you, away from the merciful impact, the numbing water. You, your past, your heart, the memories and despair and stones filling your pockets seem weightless, wrapped in his power.
His usual mask of bored indifference is gone. He is finally showing you his true face, what he must always feel when he looks at you—fury and disgust.
He says nothing, as he pulls you from the depths, back into the world. As he sets you gently back on your heavy feet on the sidewalk in front of him. His evol evaporates, winter breath in the wind.
He looks at your face with his wine-dark eyes. Looks at the water. Flicks his gaze back to your face.
You will not cry in front of this man. This man who hates you so much he won’t even let you seek the peace of death. Death, which has always been too good for you, but not for the people you loved the most.
You clench your jaw as the fire re-ignites in your chest. The flames you had tried so hard to scoop out, to leave behind.
You don’t want to feel this much anymore.
If you speak, you know you’ll cry. You can’t stand it.
Maybe, with enough repetition, he’ll get bored. He gets bored so easily, after all.
You turn, try to launch yourself over the guardrail again.
This time, it’s not his evol, but his arms that wrap around you, pull you back from the fall.
You struggle, throwing your elbows, kicking, throwing your head back, hoping to catch his perfect nose, break it under the hardness of your stupid, useless skull.
He says nothing, just holds you tighter, wraps one arm around your waist, the other over your chest, his big hand cradling the side of your face, pressing your head back into his own chest, as he hunches over you, an immovable wall of warmth. As you fight to break free of his hold, you are wrapped in his scent—cloves, gun oil.
Sylus.
Eventually, you tire yourself out—despite all of your strength, it is no match for his. He holds you against himself easily, as you pant, lungs burning with the effort, the sweat warm once again under your Hunter’s uniform. You become aware of a whimpering, the keening of a wounded animal.
It’s coming from your throat. Your eyes burn. You go limp in his arms.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. A voice like warm liquor in your veins. You think he’ll let you go. You prepare, hoping you can get to the guardrail again. Maybe this time he won't be so fast. But instead of releasing you, getting away from you as fast as he can, the arm around your waist moves up, cradling your upper back. He scoops his other arm under your legs, holds you against himself like you’re a delicate princess, if you were anyone else. But because it’s you, he’s probably just holding you like a useless sack of shit that would be too annoying to drop. He begins to walk, his stride steady, brisk.
He looks down into your face. “I bought a dress for you. Silk. A design like stars over a flowing river. That’s the only river you’re allowed in tonight, kitten.”
You stare at him. His breath puffs white in the cold air. The face of disgusted fury is replaced by his usual bored mask.
Why is he doing this to you? He wanted to kill you, just a few months ago. Why not let you do the job for him?
He is the only person in your life who didn’t take the hint. Who kept showing up, after you made it clear that you didn’t want their presence anymore. That you couldn’t handle the ties, because ties become nooses, snapping your neck when the other person leaves you behind.
When he showed up where you were, in a ‘coincidental’ meeting on the street, on a jog, you would turn, move in the other direction. He would match your stride, doggedly pestering you with questions, asking you about your evening or weekend plans, telling you silly stories from the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran’s latest antics. Sometimes he’d just walk in contemplative silence, thumbs hooked through his belt loops, or jog quietly next to you, never losing his breath, never complaining about the pace.
When you would routinely see him at various restaurants you were headed to in order to pick up takeout, you’d leave your food, immediately turning and hurrying away. When the same food was delivered to your door half an hour later, you’d refuse to answer, letting the confused and irritated delivery man leave. A half hour after that, the same man would be back, yell through the door that he had instructions to leave the food even if no one answered, and then he’d make good on his promise. You were faced with the choice of either letting the food go to waste, or eating it guiltily at your kitchen island.
No matter how many times you told the delivery person of the almost daily packages you received with no return address that you didn’t want to accept delivery, they would always insist that their instructions were to deliver regardless of recipient response. You were welcome to bin the items after receipt, but if you didn’t accept, the packages would just pile so high outside of your door that you couldn’t reach your apartment anymore.
You would accept, and then donate whatever exquisite item was inside to women’s shelters, children’s homes, university museums, soup kitchens, fundraiser auctions. No matter how clear it was that you wouldn’t accept anything from him, Sylus never stopped sending you gifts.
When you were sick, he’d show up personally, barge into your apartment when you were too tired to look at the doorbell camera before answering, a duffel bag gripped in his big hand filled with fever reducing medicine, homemade soup from his home chef, painkillers, hot water bottles, cooling pads, muscle pads, vitamins. He’d lounge on your couch, manspreading, insisting that he wouldn’t leave until he saw you swallow the pills and drink a gigantic glass of water.
He’d wait until you lay back down on your messy bed, until you fell asleep. He’d be gone when you woke again, but your apartment would be clean and your fridge and freezer would be stuffed full of healthy pre-prepared food.
You were half-convinced he was just buttering, fattening his prey before getting bored and mercifully ending its life.
Tonight, you are now fully convinced.
“Did your tongue freeze in your mouth?” he asks, descending the stairs you had just walked up, thinking it was your last time ascending them. “Do you need mouth-to-mouth to warm it up again?”
You scowl at him, at how appealing the idea of Sylus’s tongue in your mouth is, even now. You hate yourself, your traitorous body for being drawn to him, even now. “What’s the point of talking, when you never listen?” you grind out, your throat sore. You hadn’t realized how much your animal wailing had wrecked your throat. At least the tears are no longer so close to the surface that they’re threatening to spill.
“I listen to every word out of your beautiful mouth,” he counters serenely, with that same inexplicable kindness that makes your heart hurt. So at odds with how you know he must really feel about you. “I just listen to more than your mouth in order to hear what you’re really saying.”
“What?” You stare at his beautiful face, the way the lamplight illuminates its sharp features for a brief moment, before the night swallows it again as he moves between lampposts on his way… somewhere. Back the way you just came from.
He spares you a glance. “Your mouth says one thing, while the rest of you is screaming something else.”
You feel the blood draining from your face. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
One corner of his beautiful mouth lifts. “Don’t play dumb, kitten. You’re too smart for it to be convincing.”
You were just falling into the river. You were just about to be free. How did you get here again? In this man’s arms, his smug, roguish smile filling you with the unease of being seen.
“I mean, it wouldn’t kill you to be a little more honest about the fact that you want people to fight for you, right?”
You begin to struggle again, shame lancing through you, making your body unbearable to be in. You know it’s weak, to have wanted so desperately that the people you were carving from your life would see what you were doing and stop you, place their hands over yours holding the cleaver, gently push it down, down, until it dropped from your grasp—how desperately you wanted them to step into your space, hold you tightly, just like this man who sees right through you is holding you now. You wanted Tara to keep inviting you out with your ridiculous colleagues, to sing your heart out at shitty karaoke clubs, to forcibly drag you to sleepovers and arcade nights. You wanted Xavier to push himself into your apartment, try to bake something horrible in your oven, sheepishly offer to go to the bakery with you instead when the fire alarm inevitably went off. You wanted Zayne to walk through the crowd to reach you at the other end of the hallway after you identified Josephine’s body, to ask to take your hand, to ask how you were doing, even though you knew you wouldn’t have been able to answer. You wanted Rafayel to keep inventing excuses for you to visit his studio, to keep insisting that he needed you to accompany him to expositions and fancy lunches as his bodyguard.
But none of them did in the end, and that’s okay. You kept pushing them away, because your terror of their leaving was apparently bigger than your need for their presence in your life, and at least if they were already gone, as they inevitably would be, you’d finally be free.
But the last person you would want to see this utterly humiliating need inside you, exposing you like this, is the one looking down at you right now with deceptively soft, all-seeing eyes.
You know the feeling, this need, of pulling away and pulling away and then being heartbroken when people finally let you is weak, and pathetic.
You may experience weak and pathetic feelings, but you’re not weak or pathetic. Not at your core. You were prepared to do what was necessary, to save yourself from the pain of your emptiness, the fire raging inside your chest. You weren’t asking anything of anyone. You were doing it all on your own.
Not a burden.
Never a fucking burden.
You clench your teeth, buck in Sylus’s arms.
He just holds you tightly, a straightjacket for the insanity that you’re feeling, the insanity of this man, out of all the people in your life, stripping you of your masks, flaying you so that all of your most tender, shameful parts are exposed to both him and yourself.
“Stop that. You’re just going to tire yourself further, when I need you tonight.”
Of course. The quid pro quo. He helped you with the auction, the Aether Core. Now you owe him. He doesn’t give a fuck if you live or die—he just can’t let one of his assets destroy itself before it fulfills his purpose.
You go limp in his arms. Turn your head away from him.
He continues his train of thought. “No, it wouldn’t kill you to tell the truth to your friends, so you decided to take matters into your own hands, huh? Telling the people in your life that you actually need them wouldn’t kill you, so why bother, right, when you can just jump off of a fucking bridge?” His voice sounds like the night you met him. Controlled anger. Disgust. Accusation.
Then there’s something wrong with her.
You thought you had killed everything inside of you already. The yearning for human connection. The kindness of a friend. Family holding you in their arms. You thought you had scooped out most of it, even as some of it rekindled when he pulled you back from the fall.
But the way you’re hurting now, at the memory of his hate, the reminder that the people you love won’t fight for you even if it would be fighting against you, and that this man, for all of his false generosity, never cared for you from the beginning, that his gifts and his visits were all what you knew them to be, all along—a bored predator toying with its prey before using it and consuming it.
You let your thoughts drift back to the bridge, push your pain away. Feed it to the fire. When he’s done with you, maybe you won’t even have to jump.
“Just shut up, Sylus. I’ll help you with your problem tonight. Just promise me you’ll toss me over yourself, when you’re done with me,” you tell the night, because you still can’t bring yourself to look at him.
He stops walking. The wind is so cold against your face. You wish he’d snap your neck, right now. You’re so fucking tired.
“Look at me.” His voice is low. Menacing.
You watch the water. Wonder how long it would take if you just walked out into it, without jumping. Just walk in with your stone-weighted coat and let the cold paralyze you, the current pull you under.
“Look at me, my heart,” he whispers. The change in his tone, his bizarre endearment, has you turning your head, looking up into his face. “That is one promise I can never make you.” He looks like he’s in pain. You don’t know why. He leans down, rests his forehead against yours, hunching his big shoulders, lifting your body in his arms so he can meet you. His breath is warm against your lips. “Please don’t talk to me like that.”
You want to snort. It’s rich, coming from him—the same man who is telling you not to tell him to shut up, after all the things he said to you as he starved you, strangled you.
“Please don’t tell me to kill you. To hurt you. That hurts me.”
You stare up into his face. See the sincerity in his eyes. The wind whips your hair. He wasn’t upset that you told him to shut up, but that you asked him to kill you? “What does it matter? Aren’t you going to, in the end?”
“Why would I stop you tonight, if I wanted you to die?”
Of course he won’t answer outright. When has Sylus Qin ever answered a direct question?
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Why bother stopping me, unless you just need to use me and then be done with me? I can’t be that irreplaceable. Just get someone else to put on the dress, and let me get on with my fucking life. Someone who you can train to say just the right things, at just the right time, who’ll look good in whatever fancy shit you want to put her in. There’s gotta be easier idiots than me to serve your purpose.”
He closes his eyes, breathes in the cold night air. When he opens them, you have to look away. You can’t handle whatever is in them. “I know I hurt you, when we first met. That I said cruel things to you. I’m sorry.”
You laugh, even as your heart wrenches at this strange apology. Of course he doesn’t explain what offended him so much about your existence at the beginning. Why he treated you exactly how you deserved. Probably just whatever he saw when he used his Aether Core on you. He saw the echoing chambers of your empty, fucked up heart and was enraged that it was you, and not someone worthy, who would absorb the Aether Core. “There’s never been any need to varnish the truth, Sylus. You almost choked me to death the day we met. You should have fucking finished what you started,” you sneer. “Why does no one ever finish what they start?” You think of Josephine, her researcher cronies. Think of Caleb, his promise to return, the last text he ever sent you. Your fucking parents, who you will never know.
You don’t expect an answer.
And yet, you’re surprised when Sylus wordlessly releases his hold on you. Lets you slip from his arms, sets you back on your feet. You settle in your heavy boots, the weight of your coat, the stones in your pockets, grounding you to the earth.
The lamplight shines in his silver-sheened, wind-tousled hair. His cheeks are red from the cold.
Of course. Of course.
No tool is irreplaceable.
You’re not irreplaceable.
You finally said the right thing, to push him away.
This is it. This is it. This is it.
Your mind returns to the bridge. Your hand is holding the cleaver, dripping with the blood from the last unwelcome tether to your life.
You try to memorize his face, just as you did Zayne’s, but for some reason looking at Sylus’s face hurts you so much more despite having known him for so little time. Just a sigh, in the timeline of your life. The warm glow of his irises. The softness of his lower lip. The pride in his shoulders, his nose.
Maybe you didn’t want to think of him before jumping because you had fallen in love with him, despite the fact that any affection he offered was counterfeit—the steady way he breathed next to you on a jog, the way he spread out on your couch, his dry humor, his intelligence, his piercing gaze, his kindness that was actually more cruel than if he had just tossed you out and never bothered to look for you again after the auction.
You knew it was fake. You knew it was calculated. You knew that the reality was, because he had told you from the very beginning—
Don’t tell me that you like me. Is this all so you can get my attention?
Clearly you’ve read too many fairytales.
And yet you had believed, in the bright moments of receiving his kind attention, in the fairytale. Just for a heartbeat. A raindrop, splattering on the ground.
You thought that you couldn’t bear to see what it looks like when Sylus finally tires of you pushing him away, and stops reaching out, as everyone else has.
But with just a few words, you’ve finally managed to do it. He set the burden of you down, and now he’ll walk away, replace you with some other beautiful, breathing tool.
You learn in this moment that you actually can bear it. You can bear anything, as long as you know that very soon, you won’t have to bear anything at all.
“You wanted the truth?” you say, suddenly, the relief flooding through you that the worst has happened, that you’re now actually free. You think of the fabric of the dress, liquid stars over a night river, and wonder whose body it will caress, with Sylus’s big hand on her waist, his gentle fingers drifting across her collarbone, his forehead pressed against hers, for whatever ruse he needs to run tonight, on Christmas Eve.
He grows still. Watches you carefully, as if searching your face for a trick. You look back at him steadily, scooping everything inside you out, letting it splatter onto the sidewalk, here along this dark riverbank.
“Will you give it to me?” he finally asks.
“As a parting thank you gift, for cutting me loose.” You nod. Take a shuddering breath of the frigid air. “Here is me telling you the truth: you should treat the woman who ends up wearing the dress you got with more gentleness than you did me at the beginning. You could have the world eating out of the palm of your hand, if you skip the cruelty at the beginning and just treat people the way you treated me in the last few months. She’ll do anything for you, I think, if you do. Because somehow you made me love you, despite our beginning. I could bear to cut everyone else loose but you.” You laugh, and the sound is like icicles snapping, shattering on the ground. “Thank you for doing it for me, instead. It’s probably the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
You smile at him.
You don’t know why you’re surprised that he just frowns deeply, brow furrowing.
Well. That’s okay. You never expected him to be pleased to see your face, smiling or not.
“Good luck, Sylus.”
You turn, begin to walk back the way you came, for the second time tonight. Your thoughts are already at the bridge. You’ve been falling for months now. Soon you’ll finally hit the crystal water and shatter.
You hope you won’t be reborn.
“You said you love me.” His deep, low voice is carried by the wind.
You stop, turn your head. “Stupid, huh?” you ask, wondering if he wants to pour salt into the wound you just willingly exposed to him.
“Why would you love someone who treated you the way I did?”
You turn fully, face him across the night, one last time. “You’re so fucking funny. I’ve always appreciated men who can make me laugh.” You shrug. “And I’m a pathetic fool. You pretended to be kind, and I lapped it up like the thirsty dog I am.”
He tilts his head, takes a step towards you. “That’s all?”
You take a step back. You don’t need him and his pretty face, his delicious scent any closer to torment you.
You offer him more truth. “Of course not.”
“What else?”
You sigh. “What does it matter? We’ll never see each other again.”
He shakes his head. “Indulge me.”
So salt, it is. You press your fingers into the most tender part of yourself, peel yourself wide open. “Your cleverness. How sweet you can be when you want something—strangely pliant, for such a big, powerful man. The self confidence you have. I could say, do anything and you did so well pretending to never be embarrassed of me. You made me believe, very briefly, that you really wanted to be with me, do anything, go anywhere, just because I was there. It’s quite impressive, really. I can see why you’re so good at business. You’re competent. You’re beautiful to look at.” You pause, shake your head in turn. “But you already know all that. You know why you’re loveable. You made me feel cherished in a way that no one ever has, even as I was pushing you away. But honestly, those are just parts of you. They don’t fully cover what it is about you that makes my heart ache when I look at you. I love you because you’re you. Even hearing your name makes my heart race. Seeing your shoes in my foyer, because they were on your feet. The curve of your wrist, because it belongs to you. I know it’s pathetic, and stupid.” You shrug again. “Can’t help it, though.”
He stares at you.
You prod him. “Is that enough?”
“How can you ask if that’s enough, when it’s everything?”
You look at him in confusion. “Huh?”
He takes a step towards you, frowning. “Are you only telling me all this because you think I’ve finally given up and allowed you to push me away, because I set you back on your feet?”
You take a step back, as he takes another step forward.“What do you mean ‘I think’ you’ve given up?” You squint at him.
“Did you only tell me all this because you’re going straight back to the bridge to try again?”
You take another step back at the intensity of his face, his question. “What does it matter? You don’t have to worry about what happens to me after this.”
He takes two steps. “You tell me you love everything about me, and then you plan to fuck off and leave me alone again?”
Okay, this was a mistake. You don’t know why he’s mad, but he’s mad again. “I’m sorry.”
You don’t know what else to say. You’ve been sorry your whole life. This is yet another miscalculation. You should have just left. What did you think would happen if you told him how you feel? That he’d be happy about your pathetic heart bleeding pitifully for him?
He strides over to you, his long legs outpacing your own. “If you’re sorry, don’t fucking do it.”
“What?”
He looks down into your face, so close you can smell him again, you can see the fine lines around his eyes as he frowns. “If you’re really sorry for loving me, for ever meeting me—which are the only things you have to be sorry for, then make it up to me by staying. Don’t leave me. Don’t push me away anymore. Just stay, and love me.”
You huff. “Are you really that desperate for help tonight?”
He lifts his hands, places his palms on your cheeks, his long fingers dipping into your hair. “No, I’m desperate for you tonight. It’s Christmas—I don’t give a shit about the holidays, but I know you do. I want to spend it with you. You made me watch you jump off of a goddamned bridge. What would have happened if I hadn’t already been on my way to you?” He sounds so upset. You’ve never seen him like this. The fear is naked on his lovely face.
“What the fuck are you talking about? What does it matter? You said you could get someone else for the dress, for tonight.” You’re so confused. Why is he acting like this?
“I didn’t say any of that. You suggested that I replace you with someone else, I set you on the ground to make sure you were looking at my face, that you were listening to my words when I told you that you’re irreplaceable. That no one else will do. That after watching you almost die, I can’t continue being cautious and trying not to frighten you away anymore.”
“You… what?”
“You love me. Right? You weren’t lying?” he looks uncertain, like he can’t quite believe it.
You can’t bring yourself to lie. The truth is out. You’re witnessing the fallout. There’s no point in backpedaling. “Yeah.”
He nods, once, decisively. “Okay. That’s enough.”
You sigh in relief. Maybe he’ll let you go, finally, finally.
He checks his chunky watch, the platinum flashing in the lamplight. “There’s still time.”
“Time for what?”
“For my plans tonight. Come.” He closes the distance, sweeps you into his arms again, cradles your body against him like something fragile.
“What plans? Listen—” you start to argue.
“No. Now it’s my turn to speak, and for you to listen.” he squeezes you tightly. “Today was the last day you spend alone. If you can’t live for yourself, then you can live for me, until you remember why you want to live for yourself again. No matter what you say, or what you do to get rid of me, it’s not going to work.”
You can’t even process what is happening. “What are you—?” you begin, but he cuts you off again.
His voice is strained, rough. “You love me. So you have to take responsibility. You have to stay.”
You don’t know what to say.
I’m desperate for you tonight.
You can’t believe this. He hates you. He has hated you from the beginning. He was so kind to you because he wanted to use you for something he never bothered explaining to you. He needs you for your resonance, your amplification of his powers.
You’re irreplaceable. No one else will do.
Because of your resonance?
I don’t give a shit about the holidays, but I know you do.
He carries you along the wind-swept riverbank, through the frigid night. Stars above, stars below.
You made me watch you jump off a goddamned bridge.
You didn’t think anyone was left to care.
You were so careful, severing ties like arteries, so that you wouldn’t leave the world with more pain than you found it. It was already bleeding so much.
You just were so tired of bleeding with it.
As if sensing the turn of your thoughts, Sylus carries you to the edge of the river’ embankment, where the concrete falls away, drops into the water.
He sets you down again, but doesn’t let you go. His big hands slide down the outside of your coat, dip into your pockets.
He pulls out a smooth stone. Turns it in his hands.
“I’ll never understand how someone so light can weigh so heavily in me,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “But you’re a weight I’ll carry for as long as you let me.”
His ember eyes flick back to yours. He hands you the stone.
“This is your conviction that the world won’t miss you, if you’re gone. You will hold it in your hand, one last time. And then you will throw it in the water.” He wraps your cold fingers around the stone. Somehow, his fingers are still warm.
You grasp it, look up into his face. You see yourself in them. It hurts, to be seen so clearly. You’re so ashamed. “How did you know?”
He closes his eyes, shakes his head a little. Opens them. “I looked into your soul, the day we met. I know you’re too soft-hearted in this life to kill yourself if you thought it would hurt someone else. You don’t carry that spite, anymore.”
In this life.
Anymore.
You can’t bring yourself to ask him what he means. You only know that once again, Sylus Qin has seen inside you, has seen you, in a way no one else ever has.
“But I don’t think anyone would miss me. I made sure of it.”
He huffs. “You’re a fool, if you actually believe that. The people you’ve pushed away still love you. But if you can’t believe that yet, then you can’t pretend to yourself that you’re disposable anymore, if for no other reason than I’m standing here now, telling you that I would miss you.”
You think of Tara, sitting on your desk, nudging a steaming latte she got for you on her way to work toward you, asking if you’ve heard the latest about Simone and Andrew.
You think of Xavier, walking you to your door at the end of a nasty wanderer encounter, reaching out, brushing a bit of mud off your cheek, then smearing it across his own cheek. See, we match now.
You think of Zayne, waiting across a busy hallway, patient, letting you choose to approach him, and respecting you by letting you walk away.
You think of Raf, the beauty he shares with you with every photo, the funny strings of emoji that don’t demand an answer.
“How do you know, that they would miss me?” you ask Sylus quietly.
“I’ve been watching you for a long time, sweetie. Do you think I haven’t seen your friends’ faces when you walk away from them?”
You clutch the stone in your hand. “I don’t think I can change my thoughts, my conviction, just like that.”
“You love me, so you have to try. Throw it. Every time you try to drag it back up, I’ll remind you that you threw it away, and you can let it stay at the bottom of the river.” He reaches up, caresses your cheek with his fingertips.
You want to cry. You want to cry, because you’re so afraid. If you let yourself believe that people love you, you have to stay, for them. You have to feel, every day, the weight of grief, of existence, the pain of being alive, of being inside yourself, your body. The hollowness will return, even with your friends, even with Sylus filling most of it.
It’s like he can read your thoughts as his eyes devour your face, as his fingers tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “I won’t let you pretend, anymore. You love me, and I will not survive if you aren’t here with me. So you have to stay. We don’t have to accept that life is a curse. We can fight back. Make it something better.”
“I’m scared,” you say.
His eyes are so tender, as he watches your mouth form your biggest truth, set it free in the night. “I will protect you, until you can protect yourself again. There’s nothing to be afraid of, if we’re together.”
You want to believe him. Your heart beats painfully behind your ribs. The moon is a sharp crescent in the sky.
But you’re a weight I’ll carry for as long as you let me.
“You’ll really stay?”
He finally smiles, a faint Sylus smile that feels like a grin. “I told you. Today was the last day you’ll ever be alone. You can’t get rid of me now, no matter what you do, or say.”
You turn, holding the stone in your cold hands. You think of all the lies you’ve been telling yourself, about your friends, your place in their lives, because you were so tired of living with an unnameable grief, one you carried inside you long before Caleb and Josephine died, but whose loss compounded, made unbearable the original sorrow.
And I will not survive if you aren’t here with me.
You don’t know why he feels this way. Does he love you too? He hasn’t said so. Can he even love you, in the way you love him?
Does it matter?
It’s enough, that he says he’ll stay. That he wants you to stay alive. That he’ll help remind you, when the whispers drift back in your mind, telling you that you’re just a burden, that no one actually loves you, would miss you when you’re gone. When the hollowness echoes so loudly it’s all you can hear.
You lean back, lift the stone, throw it as hard as you can, as far as you can, into the rushing river.
You don’t hear its splash over the wind.
You turn back to Sylus.
He dips into your pocket again. Pulls out another stone. “Your guilt, for having lived. For having been born.”
You take it from him. Let your mind drift. Feel along the contours of your memories, the jagged, missing pieces, all the way back to when it fades to black. You throw the stone.
You don’t see it sink to the riverbed.
He dips into your pocket again. “Your shame, for needing others. For being human, and imperfect. For not being able to do it all alone. For wanting to be loved.”
You take the stone. “Is it really okay?” you ask, helplessly. There’s no point pretending everything he is saying isn’t true. “To want these things, when I haven’t earned them?”
He steps closer to you. Places his hands on your shoulders, draws you in. “There is no okay, or not okay. There is no crime and punishment, no transgression, no sin. How can it be shameful, to want what you were born to want? Why does love have to be earned, instead of just given?”
You lean into him, press your face into his chest, his thick wool coat soft against your skin.
“I don’t know.”
He reaches into your pocket, places a stone in your other hand. “One for your shame, one for the idea that love must be earned. Throw them.”
You lean back again, and it’s already too far away from him. But you throw each stone, and they disappear under the cold water.
“That’s enough, for now. We’ll take the rest home.” He draws you back into his arms. Lifts you without effort, stone-filled pockets and all. The weight of all of you. “When you have thoughts of shame, of guilt, of not being loved, we’ll come back. You’ll throw them again. Until they’re all gone. We’ll gather other stones, when other feelings make life unbearable. I’ll come with you, as many times as you need.”
Sylus carries you along the path back to the road that snakes along the river. His motorcycle gleams under a bright lamppost.
He settles a helmet on your head, checks to make sure it’s secure. Puts his own on. You sit behind him, cling to him. Rest your head against his broad back, close your eyes. The motorcycle is loud, and he drives it carefully through the busy, holiday bustling streets, until he reaches your apartment building. He holds your hand as he leads you through the front doors, as he stands quietly beside you in the elevator, his red, warm eyes never leaving your face in the elevator mirrors. He leads you to your front door, waits patiently while you unlock it with your cold finger.
In the hallway, he kneels at your feet, unlaces your tall boots while you look down at him, the soft fall of his silver hair, his big, nimble fingers working the laces.
He then removes his own boots. His coat. He’s wearing a garishly bright Christmas sweater, with prancing reindeer. He hangs his coat on a peg in the wall. He turns, slowly unzips yours. Eyes flicking between the zipper and your face. He gently lifts it from your body, again like it’s weightless, even though it’s still filled with stones. He pulls it from your arms, hangs it next to his.
He pulls you further into your place.
The first thing you notice is the warmth. It’s so warm, like someone came in while you were gone and turned on the heating.
The next thing you notice is the Christmas tree. The one you didn’t get this year, because the thought of the holidays without Caleb and your grandmother was unbearable.
Beautifully, tastefully decorated. Silver and gold, twinkling lights. Its pine scent fills your place.
Sylus moves to a record player on one of the cabinets along your living room wall. A record player that wasn’t here before you went to work today. He fiddles with the arm, and suddenly Joni Mitchell’s River fills your house.
It’s coming on Christmas
They’re cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on
He walks back to you. “Is this okay?”
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Whoa I wish I had a river I could skate away on
The music flows around you, paralyzing you. You stare into his face, into the warm glow of his eyes. How could you have missed this? The way he’s looking at you now? Through all the long months since the auction?
He tried hard to help me
You know, he put me at ease
And he loved me so naughty
Made me weak in the knees
Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on
The words wash over you, through you. The scent of pine warms you, memories without form filling you with the sense of home, safety, love.
I made my baby cry
I'm so hard to handle
I'm selfish and I'm sad
Now I've gone and lost the best baby
That I ever had
Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on
He takes your hands in his, thumbs across your skin. “Is it too much?”
You think of how cold it was, standing on the guardrail of the bridge.
You were running toward the bridge, while Sylus was filling your home with warmth.
What would have happened if I hadn’t already been on my way to you?
You think of him spreading out on your couch, as a fever raged through your body. You think of your freezer, filled with food. You think of the takeout boxes, still steaming, sitting in front of your closed door.
You think of him hanging delicate ornaments on a fragrant tree.
I made my baby cry
You shake your head, the enormity of what almost happened filling you. The enormity of the choice you made, that you enacted, until Sylus pulled you back from the rushing dark.
You start to shake.
“Kitten?”
“It’s not too much,” you say, teeth chattering. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”
He stares down at you, seems to make a decision. “Shower. Now.”
You nod, moving away from him, but he follows.
Inside your small bathroom, he takes up the entire space. He peels off your hunter’s uniform, tosses it beyond the open bathroom door. His gaze flicks from your undershirt, your underwear, to your face. “Do you want me to leave?”
You think of the dark water, an impact that never came. Sylus plugging in the record player, choosing a record with one of your favorite Christmas songs on it. Placing it delicately on the turntable.
“No. You promised you’d never leave me alone again.”
He smiles a little. “I mean, leave the bathroom.”
“No. You promised you’d never leave me alone again,” you repeat.
He stares into your eyes. Nods. Lifts your undershirt. He reaches behind you, unhooks your bra with the same agility that he unlaced your boots. He lifts it from your body, watches you as he lifts it to his nose, inhales.
You shiver.
He tosses the bra behind him. Kneels. Pulls your underwear from your hips, down your legs. You step out of them. He stands again.
He leans over, his ridiculous, festive sweater soft against your cheek, as he reaches past you to turn on the shower faucet. As he messes with the knobs until steam begins to fill the small space. He nudges you forward, past the sliding glass door and into the small shower cabin, letting the hot water pour over you. You turn, watch him through the clear glass. He picks up your underwear, watches you as he lifts it to his nose, inhales as he did with your bra. His eyes close for a moment, and then open. He tucks the little slip of fabric into his pants pocket, sits on the closed toilet, rests his elbows on his knees, and continues to watch you.
You let the hot water flow over your tired, cold body. You stare at Sylus’s face, let it fill your vision, blot out the rushing river, the impact that never came, the idea of everything you would have missed, if he hadn’t pulled you out. Everything you would have missed, in such a short amount of time. What else would you miss, if he hadn’t caught you? If he could give you so much within an hour, how much would you have missed in a day? In a week?
What have you been fighting, this whole time?
Just yourself.
You think of the stones at the bottom of the riverbed, instead of your body. Your conviction that you’re not loved, your guilt, your shame, instead of you.
You stare at the man who handed you each one, and told you to get rid of them, instead of yourself. The man sitting in your tiny bathroom, filling it with his big body, his even bigger presence, staring at you, staring at him.
You stop shaking.
Reach for the body wash, lather your hands. Run your hands along your body, under your armpits. He frowns, eyes on your hands. You palm your breasts, dip between your legs.
He lowers his head, eyes still on your hands, rests his full lips on his long steepled fingers.
You finish lathering your body, let the water wash it away. He’s too far away, even this close, on the other side of the glass.
As you turn off the water, he stands, lifts one of your towels from the rack. Holds it out for you. You step into it, him, let him wrap it around you. He turns you both, so that you’re looking in the bathroom mirror, which is mostly fogged.
“Better?” he asks.
You nod, soaking in his warmth at your back, the steam of the bathroom.
You have a question, a question you can’t bring yourself to say out loud yet.
You reach out with one hand. Trace a finger through the fogged mirror.
Sylus watches you, resting his chin on your shoulder.
Letters, a question.
Do you like me? Circle yes or no
Sylus smiles again, lifts an eyebrow. He reaches out, takes your hand in his. He circles no with your finger.
You frown, heart sinking, but Sylus just whispers, “Patience, kitten,” and flattens your palm across like. Guides your finger again, just above the erased like, drags it through the moisture in an elegant script.
love
He then gently sets your hand down. Lifts his own, circles with one long finger, yes.
He watches your reaction in the mirror.
You had no idea.
This whole time, you had no idea, even though he was showing you, with every ‘chance’ encounter, his pestering you with questions about work, life, his silly stories about the N109 Zone. His packages at your door. Fever medication, a big glass of water shoved into your hands.
You think of the rushing water, what almost happened. What you almost missed.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me believe you still hated me?”
He looks down at you now, away from your reflection in the mirror. His eyes trail your face, down your curved neck. He palms the back of your neck, his thumb drifting along the side, over a mole there.
“Have you heard of the myth that where we have moles is where someone kissed us in a past life?”
Even if so much has changed between you in just the last few hours, you’re reassured that Sylus Qin still can’t answer a straightforward question with a straightforward answer.
You shake your head. “No, I had never heard of that.”
Sylus smiles, and it looks a little sad. He leans down, presses the softest of kisses against your skin, the mole there. “Like most human legends, it’s a pretty lie. Not quite true.”
You laugh. “I could have guessed as much.” You tilt your neck, enjoying the press of his warm lips on your skin for the first time.
He opens his mouth, runs his teeth over where he just kissed you. Bites, gently.
You shiver again. Press your neck into, instead of away from his teeth.
He bites harder.
You gasp.
“I was afraid I’d frighten you with the enormity of my feelings for you, when in your mind, we’d only just met,” he murmurs against your neck, his saliva, the indentation of his teeth hot on your skin.
He bites again, presses himself into your ass through the towel. You realize he’s hard.
You forget about the last part of his sentence. Had you not only just met?
You lift your hands, let the towel unfurl from around your body, let it drop to the floor.
You almost died tonight.
What have you been fighting this whole time?
Just yourself.
He tried hard to help me
You know, he put me at ease
You turn in his arms. He’s breathing hard, cheeks pink.
“You love me?”
He closes his eyes. Opens them. Shakes his head. “Love isn’t intense enough.”
“Adore me?” You lift your arms, wrap them around his neck. Pull his face closer to your own.
He shakes his head again. “Still not enough.”
“You won’t survive without me?” You lift on your toes, his soft sweater almost unbearable against your sensitive nipples.
He nods. “You’re getting closer. Can’t breathe without you. When I saw you jump…” He swallows, thickly. “You might as well have pulled me down with you, beloved. If it ever gets to be too much again, take me with you. I’ll never leave you alone again. Promise me the same,” he demands, big, calloused hands running up your naked sides, the fabric of his dark jeans rough against your body, where your thighs meet, as he helplessly nudges against you again with his hips, his hard dick behind his zipper.
I'm so hard to handle
I'm selfish and I'm sad
“I wouldn’t have known, unless you told me,” you breathe against his lips. “Promise that you’ll tell me how you’re feeling from now on, and I’ll promise to take you with me if I can’t leave the stones in the riverbed, even with you here.”
His voice is deep, rough like the fabric of his pants against your sensitive skin. “Deal.” He closes the distance, presses his soft lips to yours. Licks into your mouth.
And he loved me so naughty
Made me weak in the knees
His hands drift down your sides as his tongue dips into your throat, as he swallows your noises of pleasure, just from kissing him, his hands on you. He grips your ass, urges your legs around his waist. He carries you out of the tiny, steaming bathroom, manages not to knock you against the doorway, or into any furniture on the way to your bedroom, even as he continues to kiss you, as your hands in his soft hair probably block his peripheral view. He lays you down on your bed, the puff of your duvet. It’s so warm in your place that you’re not even shivering. You watch as he pulls his cheerful sweater and undershirt over his head, tosses them to the floor. As he unzips himself, hastily yanks down his pants and boxers, his socks. He blankets you with his big body.
You wrap your arms around him, pull him tightly to you, arch your breasts into his chest. He leans down, runs his nose along your cheek, inhales the scent of your hair at your temple. You just feel each other, for a long stretch of time. His soft chest hair against your skin, the silken skin of his dick between your thighs where he just leisurely rubs himself against you, as your palms run down the muscles of his back, the line of his spine. You’ve refused to think of him like this, ever since he wrapped his hand around your throat. You couldn’t bear his beauty, through all the long months that followed. You fled, every time your heart raced at the flash of silver as he approached you, met you where you were, over and over and over.
But now he says he has loved you, through it all. That he’ll never leave you alone again.
You let yourself feel him, under your hands, under your tongue, as you lick into his ear, feel him shiver. As you squeeze your thighs together, offering him a tight, snug space for him to keep pleasuring himself, as you feel your own wetness begin to coat your inner thighs, his cock, the longer you feel him on top of you, inhale the scent of his skin, the ever-present gun oil, the cloves, his clean sweat underneath it all.
After a lifetime, or only a few minutes, he leans down, says softly into your ear. “I want you. Tell me you want me too.”
“Can’t you tell?” you ask, bucking a little, squeezing him with your legs again.
He makes a low, pleasured sound in his throat. “I want to hear you say it. You’ve gone through a lot tonight. I need to know you actually want this. That you’re not just—” his breath hitches, as you move your hips again, as his dick slips between your wet, soft places. “That you’re not too tired to say otherwise, not thinking straight.”
“Use your Aether Core on me. Then you’ll know that my body is telling you what my mouth would, if I said the words.” You smile at him, teasing.
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
You had wanted to fly. You had settled for flying for a brief moment, before shattering.
But Sylus is offering you constant flight, under, over, along his crow’s wings.
You think of the rushing water. The tide of cars behind you, the wind whipping your hair. You almost missed this. You don’t want to waste any more time.
He lowers his forehead to yours, breathes, speaks against your saliva-slick lips with his own. “I don’t want to use my Aether Core on you. I want the words in your mouth, in your heart. I want your free will, your freely given consent. I almost lost you because I tried to force you, at the beginning. You believed I hated you, this whole time. Don’t ask me to force you again, my heart.”
You understand. You accept his request, his demand. “I want you, Sylus.”
He exhales, shifts above you, slips his wet cock between your legs, slides into your body with gentle, firm, graceful waves of his hips.
You whine, the feeling of fullness layering into the pleasure of the warmth of his skin, the taste of his tongue. For once, the feelings inside you threatening to burst out of your skin are so good, instead of painful, so pleasurable, that you can barely stand it.
He kisses you, his velvet tongue big, heavy in your mouth. You suck, whine again as he lifts a hand, palms your breast, begins to thrust into you.
You are filled with him. His warmth. The size of him.
You widen your legs, wrap them around his thick ass. Urge him with your own body to move faster, to fuck you harder. He gives you everything you want. Just the pressure of his body against yours has you coming, the release bright, sudden—you shake with it.
Your pleasure seems to trigger his. He grunts, roots into you, buries his teeth in your neck, bites where he bit you before, over the mole on your neck. The sting makes you clench, and he whimpers, groans, comes with a jerk of his hips.
He slows, still filling you, still pleasuring you, as he lifts his head to look into your eyes.
You stare at each other, breath mingling, warm between you.
You smile at him.
He smiles at you. Nudges your nose with his.
“Can we do that again?” you ask.
He laughs, low and surprised. “Yeah,” he says, kissing you softly. “Just tell me, and I’m yours, anytime, anyplace.”
“I’m telling you.” You move your hips, feel his cum drip drown your ass. Feel him gasp at your movement.
“Now?” He’s surprised again.
“Problem?” you grin at him.
“Fuck no.” He kisses you, hard. Slips out of you. Flips you over, lifts your hips with one big hand, pressing his other between your shoulder blades.
He presses his cock back between your legs, the slide easy and wet, and fucks you until you come again, until he blankets your back with his sweat-slicked, matted-hair chest.
“Was that enough, your highness?” he teases.
“I’m telling you,” you pant, wondering what he’ll do.
“As you wish,” he murmurs, before flipping you again. Before watching your face as he slowly, leisurely works himself, his cum into you, makes you come again.
In the morning, the sky through your windows is heavy, dark, gray. You wake slowly. Turn your head, find Sylus’s sleeping face next to yours on the pillow. He’s lying on his stomach. You take in the dark sweep of his lashes, his generous mouth, slightly parted.
You slip out of the bed, use the bathroom. You wander into the living room, gaze at the Christmas tree, its twinkling lights.
It’s Christmas.
Caleb and your grandmother are dead.
But you’re still alive.
Your body aches from Sylus’s efforts, but it feels good. For once, it feels good to be inside your body. To breathe deeply.
You think of riverstones, sinking deep in the riverbed.
You know that the feelings tied to them will try to rise, clawing to the surface again.
We’ll gather other stones, when your feelings make life unbearable. I’ll come with you, as many times as you need.
Your eyes drift to the top of the Christmas tree. It’s empty.
“I thought we should finish it together.” Sylus’s warm arms wrap around you from behind. He leans over your shoulder, kisses your cheek softly. “Do you want to do the honors?”
You smile, wrapping your hands over his forearms around your waist. “You’re taller.”
“Use me as much as you like, kitten.” He turns, grabs a pretty golden glass tree-topper from your kitchen table, hands it to you. He lifts you up onto one shoulder, easily, and you fit it gently over the highest point of the tree. He holds you against him, as he lowers you. You slide along his body, until he sets you gently on your feet again.
You both stand, admiring it for a moment. It’s beautiful, like the rest of the decorations.
You hug him, look up into his face.
“Merry Christmas, Sylus.”
He smiles down at you, ruby eyes twinkling with reflected light from the tree.
You would have missed this moment, and all the moments like it, if Sylus hadn’t stopped you last night. You shudder, hug him more tightly.
You know your feelings will return. That no one person can solve a lifetime of wounds. But you promised him that you’d try. That you’d stay. You can only do your best.
You hear your phone vibrating, reluctantly pull away from him, head to your coat in the hallway where you thought you left it last night, but Sylus stops you. He points at your kitchen island. Your phone is lying on the counter. You look at him in confusion, but go to check it.
You’re shocked at how many missed texts you have.
From Tara.
Xavier.
Your eyes widen.
Zayne, who you thought you had blocked, months ago.
Rafayel, who you’re sure you blocked last night.
Each one is a response from a text you never sent. Telling them Merry Christmas. Telling them you love them. Telling them you hope to spend time with them soon.
None of them shame you, call you out on your behavior of the last year. Even Zayne simply suggests that you try a new bakery, that you’ve been in his thoughts, that he’s relieved you felt comfortable enough to reach out. Rafayel sends a bunch of firework emojis, suggests blowing shit up on the beach for New Year’s.
You turn to Sylus.
He looks steadily back at you, silver hair sleep-tousled, wine-bright eyes glowing.
Your eyes feel hot, and you realize you’re crying, the tears fat on your cheeks, dripping down your neck.
This is the first time you’ve cried since you woke up, your ears deafening, Caleb’s necklace bright in the reflected fire.
Sylus walks over to you. Leans down, licks the tears from your cheeks with his warm tongue, one after the other. He kisses you, ignoring your suddenly snotty nose, your morning breath.
“If it’s too much, we can take it slow. We can throw more stones in the river. But please answer your friends. You need them. And you’re a fool, if you can’t see that they need you too, if that makes you feel better about your own need.”
You continue to cry as you wrap your arms around Sylus’s neck. As he gently sways with you, to music that isn’t playing. He hums, and you think it’s Joni Mitchell’s The River, but you can’t be sure. You smile against his chest.
A thought occurs to you.
“Last night, you said there was still time. That you had plans for us, a pretty dress for me. What did we miss?”
Sylus sighs, holds you closer against himself. “Don’t worry about it.”
You stop, look up into his face. “What did you have planned, Sylus? Are you sorry we missed it?”
He smiles at you. “Oh yes, so sorry I got to spend all night fucking you instead of going to a holiday concert featuring the organ.” His voice drips sarcasm. “But we can go tonight, if you’d like to make it up to me.”
You laugh, bury your face back into his chest. “And here I had planned to suck your cock while watching a black and white Christmas film marathon tonight,” you say forlornly. You smile into his chest as he chokes. “Oh well, the concert it is.”
He just laughs, rich and deep, and continues to sway you slowly in your living room.
“Merry Christmas, my heart,” Sylus says against your hair, in your pine scented apartment, as snow begins to fall outside your windows, as your phone continues to vibrate, filled with the love of your friends.
Here you are. Again.
You’re so grateful, to be here, again.
173 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sterek Fic Rec - 2024
Guess who's backkkkk??? Ok so I know that I am late but only by like 4 days? So not too bad. Anyway! Welcome to Prince's 2024 Fic Rec List! I am now aiming to do a list every year (and more if we are lucky but let's not promise that hehe). As always here are my top 10 fics I read and a special bonus mention !
Perfect Star That Hid by thebigoblin (1/1 | 1K | Teen)
He turns his hand— It’s not bare, anymore. His wrist — it has a name. His soulmate’s name. He stares. And stares and stares because what the hell. This has to be a joke, right?
Last Christmas (I gave you my heart) by jadore_hale (1/1 | 4K | Teen)
“W-what is this?” Derek couldn’t even begin to get his mind around this current situation. “My Christmas gift to you, nephew.” Peter pushed the guy towards him, and Derek hastened to catch him before he fell face first on the floor. “I’d like you to meet your soul mate.” *** Derek's uncle Peter decides to get a little more creative this Christmas by finding Derek's soulmate and stuffing him in a box with a pretty bow on top.
Stiles Stilinski, Magical PI by suzvoy (1/1 | 21K | Mature)
Stiles is a Private Investigator, only not really. He's also magical, but only close up. One thing he's really good at is lusting over people from afar, which is why it's a problem when Laura Hale hires him to help her brother.
Wanted and Wounded by RoxyRosee (3/3 | 12K | Explicit)
Derek can't seem to get off. It's been days with no luck, and he's constantly on edge. But then pack night rolls around, and when Stiles falls into him as he goes to sit down on the couch, Derek is suddenly coming, right where he sits. Turns out, Stiles is his mate. And among a whole slew of embarrassing side effects to this whole "mate" thing is the fact that Derek will never again be able to have an orgasm without Stiles by his side. So yeah, Derek's life kind of sucks right now.
Welcome to the Jingle by Jmeelee (1/1 | 1K | Mature)
Derek could admit—only to himself, of course, never out loud—that he was a little desperate to make new holiday traditions with his (officially all adults now thank god) pack. But his ideas had run more along the lines of a cozy take-out dinner at his new apartment, an ugly sweater or white elephant party, or maybe volunteering at the local soup kitchen. It had not involved spending Christmas Eve at Jungle.
Hey Dad, Derek Hale Is In My Room. Bring Your Gun. by fairytalesandfolklore (1/1 | 767 | Teen)
Being the Sheriff's kid is hard enough. Having a seemingly over-protective father who's more concerned about your bad influence than your ex-murder-suspect werewolf boyfriend is so much worse.
"The point is, I'm an adult," he amends, heaving a weary sigh as he attempts to salvage whatever is left of his dignity. "I can make my own decisions, and I choose Derek. He makes me happy. He's a good guy. He treats me well. He looks out for me, keeps me safe. He's responsible and respectful and a complete gentleman, and I really think that if you just got to know him a little better, you'd really—" The Sheriff holds up a hand, effectively cutting Stiles off mid-ramble. "I like Derek just fine," he says, and the smile that spreads across his face is warm and genuine. "You do?" Stiles falters, completely thrown. "Wait, so then why—" The Sheriff's fond smile turns to one of wry amusement. "It's you I don't trust, Stiles," he says around a hearty chuckle. "I've raised you for 18 years, I know exactly what kind of mischief you're capable of. Wouldn't want you dragging that nice, respectable boy into any trouble."
The Hoodie by PersePhonesDreams (1/1 | 1K | General)
Stiles didn’t mean to keep Derek’s hoodie—really, he didn’t. But the oversized, ridiculously soft thing quickly became his favorite comfort item, a piece of Derek he couldn’t quite let go of. It’s not like Derek would notice anyway... right? When Derek unexpectedly shows up at Stiles’ window one quiet night, Stiles’ not-so-secret attachment to the hoodie is exposed, leading to a conversation that changes everything. Cue awkward confessions, teasing smiles, and the realization that maybe Derek doesn’t mind Stiles keeping more than just his hoodie.
Over the Hedge(witch) by rororowyourboat (1/1 | 7K | Teen)
Derek moves into a new house with Laura and he is flustered by the hot gardener next door who is always just slightly dirty.
And When I Wake You're There I'm Saved by suchfun (1/1 | 14K | Teen)
"Derek," Stiles says, firm. His hand is warm on Derek's shoulder. "I'll be okay." "You didn't leave me," Derek argues. "How can you expect me to leave you?" Stiles rolls his eyes. "Oh my god, it'll be fine. Even if I am captured, I'm just a boring human. They wanted you for your Lycan blood." Derek crosses his arms. Mainly so he doesn't wrap his hands around Stiles' throat in an attempt to throttle some sense into him. "That's fine. But this isn't a time when being a boring human is an asset. This is a time when being a boring human results in a shot to the head." "Derek," Stiles says again. He steps closer, so Derek is surrounded in his scent, his chemosignals—namely unwavering, resolute determination, distinctively sharp and entirely unbreakable—clouding Derek's mind. "You'll come back for me." He sounds so sure, and he can tell the exact moment Derek gives in. Because Derek somehow always gives in to Stiles. "I'll come back for you," he confirms. "And you better not be dead." Stiles grins, eyes sparkling with far too much humour for someone who potentially just sacrificed himself for a surly Lycan and bunch of strangers. "You do say the sweetest things."
Remember What's Lost by AMatchInWater (1/1 | 7K | Explicit)
Wild Hunt AU, Stiles gets taken and Derek instantly knows something is wrong with his memory, but just doesn't know what until Lydia calls him, begging for his help to get Stiles back because she thinks they have the strongest connection. When Derek saves Stiles he stops at nothing to finally get what's his.
princecharmingwinks special mention (this fic has a heck of a lot of emotions and when Derek fell to his knees, my heart broke. you gotta read it to find out why! don't worry I will never read or rec unhappy endings)
Horizons into Battlegrounds by AClosedFicIsNeverRead (1/1 | 15K | Explicit)
Derek has always kept his distance from Stiles, refusing to act on his instinctive desire for the pale, doe-eyed human. But at what cost? When circumstances reveal the horrors that Stiles has suffered due to Derek's self-imposed distance, will the Alpha be able to make it right before it's too late? ______________________________________________________ “Who are you to the pack?” the hunter asked. “I’m nobody.” Stiles answered plainly. And a harsh chill ran through Derek’s body. His breath caught in his throat because… because Stiles’ heart… it had remained steady. Stiles… actually believed that. Believed that he was ‘nobody.’ How could Stiles believe that?
That is all for 2024 my friends! Please remember to give kudos and leave comments for all our amazing Sterek writers. I know I'd be lost without you all. Thank you!
89 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi!! I really liked the hoshi x 4th gen idol fic, do you think you could write it for my boyfie vernon please?? thank uuu <333
Eyes on You | idol!Vernon x idol!reader | fluff
The lights in the massive arena sparkled like stars, cameras flashing as idols filled the stage for the final group photo of the night. Cheers echoed through the venue, a mix of excitement and celebration as the award show came to an end.
Y/N stood with her group, smiling for the cameras and waving at the fans, but her attention kept drifting.
He was standing so close.
Vernon.
His group was positioned right next to hers, and by some twist of fate, they had ended up nearly side by side. She could feel his presence without even looking, but when she finally dared to glance his way, their eyes met.
Her breath caught, but she quickly smiled, pretending to stay calm.
To her surprise, Vernon smiled back—a small, subtle smile that made her heart race.
They held eye contact for just a second too long before Y/N looked away, trying to focus on the cameras. But the heat in her cheeks lingered.
And then it happened again.
When the music started and the idols began to exit the stage, Vernon glanced at her one more time. This time, she caught him and raised an eyebrow as if to say, Caught you.
He just smiled.
———————————————————————————-
By the time Y/N got back to her dorm that night, her phone was blowing up.
Videos of Vernon and Y/N’s lingering stares and subtle smiles had gone viral. Fans had zoomed in, slowed the footage, and added captions about “soulmates” and “love at first sight.”
Y/N buried her face in her hands as her groupmates crowded around her, laughing and showing her the edits.
“Oh my God, look at this one!” one of them said, shoving their phone toward her. It was a slowed-down video of Vernon smiling at her with dramatic music in the background.
“Stop,” Y/N groaned, but she couldn’t stop smiling.
Her heart skipped when she saw his name trending alongside hers. Was he seeing all of this too?
———————————————————————————-
The next day, Y/N’s phone buzzed with a notification.
Instagram DM: Chwe Hansol
Her heart dropped. No way.
She opened it quickly.
Vernon: Hey. I hope this isn’t weird, but I just wanted to say congrats on your performance last night. You guys were amazing.
Y/N stared at the message, reading it three times before typing back.
Y/N: Thank you so much! Congrats to you too. You guys were incredible.
His reply came almost instantly.
Vernon: Haha, thanks. I think I might have stared a little too much last night. Sorry about that.
She laughed out loud.
Y/N: You definitely did. But it’s okay—I was staring too.
There was a pause, and Y/N wondered if she’d said too much. But then another message popped up.
Vernon: Wanna make it less awkward and talk in person sometime?
———————————————————————————-
A few days later, they finally met up. It was late at night, and the streets were quiet as they walked side by side through the city.
Y/N had been nervous at first, but Vernon’s easygoing vibe put her at ease. They talked about everything—music, family, and how surreal their lives felt sometimes.
At one point, Y/N pulled out her phone. “I need to show you something.”
“What is it?” Vernon leaned closer, curious.
“My cat had kittens last week,” she said, grinning as she pulled up photos.
His eyes lit up as he looked at the pictures. “No way. They’re so tiny!”
“I was there when they were born,” Y/N said, her smile softening. “Two of them needed help, so I had to step in.”
Vernon looked at her, clearly impressed. “You helped deliver them?”
She nodded. “It was kind of scary, but also amazing.”
“That’s… really cool,” he said, swiping through the pictures. “They’re adorable.”
“You should meet them,” Y/N said without thinking. When she realized what she’d said, her eyes widened. “I mean—only if you want to.”
Vernon smiled. “I want to.”
As they kept walking, Vernon brushed his hand against hers—just lightly at first, almost as if by accident. But when Y/N didn’t pull away, he laced his fingers through hers.
Her heart skipped, but she didn’t let go.
———————————————————————————-
A few days later, rumors exploded online.
Photos had surfaced of two people walking hand-in-hand late at night. Their faces weren’t visible, but fans speculated immediately—was it Vernon and Y/N?
Y/N scrolled through the photos, her stomach twisting. The comments were endless, and even though some fans defended them, others weren’t as kind.
Her phone buzzed.
Vernon: Don’t worry about the photos. Are you okay?
Y/N: I’m fine. Just nervous.
Vernon: Me too. Can I see you later?
They met up again that night, but this time, Vernon looked more serious.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about this,” he said, his voice soft. “And about you.”
Y/N swallowed. “What about me?”
“I like you, Y/N. More than a friend.” He hesitated, his fingers brushing against hers again. “I know this isn’t easy, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”
Y/N’s heart pounded.
“I like you too,” she admitted.
Vernon’s eyes softened, and he let out a quiet breath of relief. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
For a moment, they just stood there, hands still linked.
“I don’t care what people say,” Vernon said finally. “As long as you’re okay with this, I’ll do whatever it takes to make it work.”
Y/N smiled softly, her fingers tightening around his. “I’m okay with this,” she said, her voice steady despite the rapid beating of her heart. “As long as we’re careful and honest with each other, I think we can handle it.”
Vernon’s lips curved into a relieved smile. “I’ll always be honest with you.”
They stood there for a moment longer, just taking it all in—the weight of what they had just admitted to each other, the excitement of something new, and the slight nervousness of what might come next.
Finally, Vernon gently pulled her closer, their joined hands resting between them. “I promise, I’ll protect this—protect us. No matter what.”
Y/N looked up at him, her chest warming at his words. “Me too.”
———————————————————————————-
The days that followed were a blur of rehearsals, schedules, and whispers about the mysterious couple in the viral photos. Fans had yet to confirm their identities, but speculation continued to spread.
Y/N tried to ignore the noise, focusing instead on the texts and late-night calls with Vernon that had quickly become the highlight of her days.
One night, Vernon called her after his schedule ended.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.
Y/N sighed, flopping onto her bed. “Better than I expected. I think the rumors are starting to die down.”
“Good.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I miss you.”
Her heart fluttered. “I miss you too.”
“Can I see you this weekend?”
Y/N smiled. “You still want to meet my kittens?”
Vernon laughed. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to that.”
———————————————————————————-
When Vernon finally came over to see her kittens, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. She had never invited someone into this part of her life before—her home, her safe space—but Vernon fit in so naturally.
The moment he stepped inside, his eyes lit up at the sight of the kittens tumbling over each other in their tiny bed.
“No way,” he said, crouching down to get a closer look. “They’re even cuter in person.”
“I told you,” Y/N teased, sitting down beside him.
One of the kittens—a fluffy gray one—wandered over to Vernon and pawed at his shoe. He laughed and gently picked it up, cradling it in his hands like it was the most fragile thing in the world.
Y/N watched him, her heart swelling.
“You’re really good with them,” she said softly.
Vernon looked up and smiled. “I like them. And… I like being here.”
Her breath caught, but before she could say anything, Vernon leaned in and kissed her cheek.
“You make me feel at home,” he murmured, his voice so soft she almost didn’t catch it.
Y/N felt her cheeks warm, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as the kitten purred in his lap.
———————————————————————————-
Despite the rumors, the world slowly moved on, and Vernon and Y/N fell into an easy rhythm.
They couldn’t be as public as other couples, but they found comfort in stolen moments—late-night walks, quiet dinners, and lazy afternoons playing with kittens.
Their relationship wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs. And as they held hands in the privacy of her apartment, surrounded by sleeping kittens, Y/N knew she wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Vernon squeezed her hand gently, pulling her closer.
“We’ll figure this out,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her forehead.
Y/N smiled. “I know we will.”
And for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.
#seventeen#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#seventeen x y/n#svt fanfic#svt imagines#svt x reader#svt x y/n#svt fluff#seventeen fanfic#seventeen vernon#vernon seventeen#seventeen x you#svt x you#svt vernon#vernon x reader#vernon fluff#vernon scenarios#vernon fanfic#hansol vernon chwe#vernon#vernon x you#vernon x y/n#idol x idol story#idol x reader
112 notes
·
View notes
Text
Baby, It's Cold Outside
AO3
Summary: Soren is cold because of the dark magic in his body, but he has a very warm boyfriend. Corvus can't help but wonder why his boyfriend is always so cold and has inexplicable scars.
Note: I was listening to my Sorvus playlist as I wrote, and Good Love by Aly & AJ came on and I realized it fit the vibes of this fic perfectly. I then played it on repeat for most of while I was writing. So, listen to that while reading if you want the full experience.
I honestly debated titling the piece after that song, but decided I couldn't pass up a good pun.
Inspired by @multifandom-nerds-blog's headcanons that Soren is cold and has scars because of the dark magic used on him in the past. Mix that with waking up cold every morning in the winter. Thus, a fic is born.
...
Soren couldn’t help it. He was almost always freezing. The dark magic in his veins guaranteed it.
Except, somehow, right before bed. Even in the middle of winter, he’d have to take most of his layers off before laying down, because otherwise he’d never be able to fall asleep.
Especially if he wanted to fall asleep cuddled into Corvus; he’d quickly get too warm. Even if they ended up on separate sides of the bed by the morning (because Soren couldn’t stay still in sleep, either), falling asleep in each other's arms helped to ward off the nightmares. Half the time he even woke up with all of his blankets crumpled at the foot of the bed because he’d kicked them off. Corvus was quickly learning to keep a death grip, even in sleep, on any blanket he actually wanted to keep on him.
So, on the night of the first freeze of the winter season in Katolis, Soren went through his usual nighttime routine of lavender scented skin and hair care products. He’d already put on his lightest pair of pajamas, not thinking about the weather; his only concern had been how quickly he could get out of his heavy armor and into Corvus’s waiting arms. It was Soren’s night to be the little spoon, and it had been a long day.
Soren stopped in the doorway to their bedroom and watched Corvus, mesmerized by the way the lamplight reflected on his skin. He was sitting in their bed, under the covers, working on perfecting his next cello piece.
“You look deep in thought,” Soren said, breaking Corvus’s concentration.
Corvus didn’t look up, but he couldn’t help his smile. “I’ve got a great muse.”
Soren’s face turned red.
Corvus let the words hang for a beat before he continued. “Yeah, you know, Pyrrah’s been really inspirational recently.”
Soren had been making his way across the room and stopped. He made the confused, deep-in-thought face that Corvus lovingly referred to as his “wait for it” expression. Then came the “realization” face.
“Was that… a joke?” Soren asked after a moment, Corvus’s dry sense of humor dawning on him.
Corvus put the papers on his bedside table with a wry grin. “It was! What did you think?”
Soren practically pounced on the man waiting for him in bed. Corvus let out an “oof” of air at Soren’s landing - like a big dog, sometimes Soren forgot how large he actually was.
“It’s not funny when you joke about me,” he pouted into Corvus’s chest dramatically, words muffled by fabric and skin. On instinct, Corvus wrapped his arms around Soren.
“Soren, you know nothing compares to the awe you inspire in me.” Corvus ran his fingers through the silky blond hair tickling his chin. Now he’d also smell like lavender all night.
Soren’s head popped up with a grin. “That’s what I like to hear!”
Corvus rolled his eyes and tried not to smile, but the corners of his mouth twitched, unable to hide his amusement. Soren let Corvus’s hand on the back of his head guide him into a gentle kiss.
“Hi,” Soren breathed when they broke apart, forehead to forehead.
“Hi.”
Soren, abruptly breaking the quiet moment, rolled off of him and scrambled under the covers. “Okay, time for bed. Hold me!”
Corvus barked out a laugh. “Geez, aren’t you demanding this evening.”
Still, Corvus did just as Soren specifically requested, quickly snuffing out his lamp, laying down, and wrapping his arms around Soren from behind.
“Well, as Head Crownguard -”
“Don’t.”
“You know you love me,” Soren said, snuggling back into Corvus’s warmth. Soren tangled their hands together and brought Corvus’s free hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on whatever skin was nearest as he closed his eyes.
“I really do.”
…
Corvus was used to sleeping in the roughest of terrain. On the forest floor, in the mountains, in a tree - really, just about anywhere. He didn’t even need a tent or a sleeping mat because being a tracker meant being discreet and able to pack up quickly.
What was he not used to?
Waking up with his freezing boyfriend clinging to him for dear life on a cold winter morning.
“Soren…?” he asked groggily, eyes adjusting to the early rays of sunlight shining through their window. He turned his head and met icy blue eyes. “Are you okay? Did you just sneeze?”
Soren nodded minutely, digging his fingers deeper into Corvus’s side. “Yup. Because of the light. But I’m okay, just currently feeling a bit like an icicle.”
“Then why don’t you have a blanket on?”
“Too cold to move.”
Corvus rolled his eyes and sat up. Soren whined, but due to his grip on Corvus, sat up too. Corvus reached over to dislodge Soren’s hands from his side so he could stand up to get Soren another shirt and fix the blankets, but a small “Don’t go…” stopped him.
Corvus’s annoyance melted away as he felt his heart clench.
“Darling, I’m not going anywhere, I just want to help,” Corvus said, dropping a kiss on Soren’s forehead.
Soren vehemently shook his head, burying his head in the crook of Corvus’s neck and wrapping his legs around Corvus’s, forcing him to stay down. Corvus gasped at the shock of Soren’s freezing nose and cold toes against sensitive skin. He relented with a sigh, reaching towards the bottom of the bed for the mixture of sheets and blankets that Soren had crumpled there.
Corvus brought the blankets up, tucking them around Soren as best he could, and stretched towards his folded scarf on his bedside table, sending his papers scattering to the floor. He sighed. He’d have to pick all of those up later and put them back in order.
The things he did for this man.
“Soren, I will need you to extricate yourself from my body for a moment if you want to wear my scarf.”
Soren relented, loosening his grasp by a fraction. His eyes were bright. “It’s too early to figure out what ‘extra-kate’ means, but I heard the word scarf. I get to wear it?!”
Corvus nodded. Judging by Soren’s reaction, you’d think Corvus never let his partner borrow it, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. Corvus loved seeing Soren in his scarf. It brought out his eyes and, honestly, a part of him loved knowing that people would see Soren in it and know they were together. That this goofy, fascinating man was his goofy, fascinating man. The man who balanced him out and inexplicably complemented his personality almost perfectly.
Corvus had also taken to leaving his scarf with Soren when either of them had a mission away. Soren, on the other hand, always sent Corvus with his favorite dragon plushie. Sometimes Soren would wear the scarf the whole trip. Or sometimes only at night, like how Corvus would sleep with Soren’s stuffed dragon beside him. It helped ease the ache of being apart.
Soren acted like this every time because he knew how important the scarf was to Corvus and treated each time he got to use it with reverence.
Soren finally released Corvus from his grasp, sitting up next to him, but kept their legs tangled together. Soren tried to keep his face serious, but Corvus still thought he looked like a kid about to get their birthday presents (to be fair, Soren also looked like that when he was about to get his birthday presents).
Corvus carefully looped the scarf around Soren’s neck, using adjusting it as an excuse to touch him. He couldn’t help but notice that the lightning-like scarring across Soren’s torso seemed to be more prominent than usual in the cold. He held his tongue, not wanting to ruin this moment that almost felt sacred.
But of course, Soren tracked Corvus’s eyes to his scars.
…
Most everybody knew Soren ran cold, but most did not know the reasoning. Not Corvus. Not even Ezran and Callum, who actually knew bits and pieces of the “why,” since they grew up together.
Not that he didn’t want to share it with Corvus. But his past and his family were so - ironically - cold and dark. Whereas what he had with Corvus was so good and bright and warm. He didn’t want to taint it by bringing up the past. Every other time Corvus had inquired about his scarring, he’d found a way to change the subject. Or distract Corvus with a kiss.
Of course, Corvus noticed him dodging the question, but he respected Soren’s need to reveal things in his own time. And he’d gladly be distracted by Soren’s mouth anytime.
The light filtering through the window made Soren feel… safe. Time felt like it was suspended, as if what happened now wouldn’t really count in the glaringly bright light of a winter’s day.
Which he knew was ridiculous. If this conversation was about to happen, it’s not like Corvus would somehow forget as soon as they officially woke up for the day.
But wrapped up in blankets, his boyfriend’s scarf, and with Corvus’s grounding presence next to him, Soren felt like maybe it was time.
Plus, Corvus was staring at his scars with that face he got when he was really committing things to memory. Usually he loved when Corvus looked at him with that face - it made him feel… wanted. Handsome. Precious. A thousand other feelings he didn’t have words for.
But this time, it just made him want to tell Corvus everything.
“Hey, I see you ogling my muscles,” Soren grinned, joking to try and psych himself up for what he wanted to talk about. “I’m just kidding. You can stare at them as much as you want.”
Soren followed up his statement with a dramatic flex of an arm and a wink, then a kiss to Corvus’s cheek. He could feel the heat from Corvus’s flushed face against his cool lips.
“You know what ‘ogling’ means?” Corvus asked, raising an eyebrow once he’d managed to compose himself a bit.
“Of course I do,” he responded haughtily. “I read romance books.”
Corvus smiled softly, endlessly amused by his partner, which led Soren’s boisterous grin to turn into a genuine smile. Soren put a hand to Corvus’s right cheek and ran his thumb gently along his eyebrow scar. Corvus closed his eyes and nuzzled into the touch.
“Okay, but in all seriousness,” Soren started quietly. If he didn’t do this now, he feared he never would. “I can see the question in your eyes and I… I think I’m ready.”
Corvus nodded. He didn’t want to say anything and disturb the moment. They broke apart, and Corvus leaned back against the headboard, ready for Soren to continue when he was ready.
“So, you may or may not know that I was a pretty sickly child.”
Another nod in response. Soren and others around the castle had alluded to it previously, but he didn’t know much else.
“But what you don’t know is that… I wasn’t getting better. As a child, I couldn’t… I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t play with Claudia without having a coughing fit or walk to the kitchen without wheezing. I was dying, Corvus.”
Soren heard his childhood mantra in his head. In through your nose, out through your mouth. He felt Corvus slip an arm around his shoulders and Soren leaned into the touch.
“But then, one day when I hadn’t been able to get out of bed for weeks… Poof. It was gone. I could breathe. I could run. I was like a new man - er, well, boy. I wasn’t sure what had happened, but that was the day these showed up,” he said, gesturing to his chest. “My being cold wasn’t as bad back then, when dark magic had only been used on me once.”
Soren heard Corvus’s intake of breath, fingers squeezing into Soren’s shoulder.
“Once?” Corvus asked, tentatively.
Soren nodded. “Yup. That was… that was the first time. But I didn’t realize what had saved me from my breathing sickness until the second time. Viren never told me how I got better, and I never thought to question it until I was grown and... and truly saw what he'd turned into.
“So, this next part you’ve definitely heard about. It was when I taunted Pyrrah in that town. When me and Clauds had you captured. While you were off being your gentlemanly self, saving the day and tracking the princes - or, well, king and prince, I guess - I was… taunting Pyrrah, yet again. We got into a bit of a fight and… well, let’s just say my armor couldn’t protect me from being thrown across a field and hitting my spine against a sharp rock.”
Corvus had indeed heard about it, but assumed the stories he’d heard about Soren’s injuries must have just been overly exaggerated. He was quickly learning that they were, in fact, not.
“I was paralyzed. Clauds tried everything she could, but nothing changed. I’d accepted it. That’s when I got the idea to reinvent myself as a poet, actually. But Claudia… she wouldn’t, couldn’t accept it. They kicked her out of the doctor’s office. I don’t know what she did while she was gone, but when she came back, she had this spell that made me start moving again.”
Soren unconsciously wiggled his fingers. Corvus took that as an invitation to grab his hand. When he felt how cold Soren’s hand was, he gave it a squeeze of encouragement and started rubbing the hand between his to help Soren warm up.
“That’s when her hair started going white,” Soren continued softly. “And that’s when the scars on my back showed up. I was cold to the touch from that day on. It took a little bit for me to put all the pieces together, but I eventually realized dark magic was inside me, and it had been that way for a while. I asked Viren as much when I was still on his side, and he confirmed it.”
Soren took a deep breath. He no longer felt like an icicle, and a weight was lifted from his shoulders. “So, yeah.” He met Corvus’s eyes. “Dark magic is the reason I’m alive today.”
…
Soren had ended up in Corvus’s arms as the story went on, and Corvus looked down at him, buried under blankets, in wonder. He’d joked the night before that Soren left him awestruck, but it was truer every day. The more Corvus learned about his partner and his past, the more he admired how strong he was to get up and start every day with a smile on his face.
No wonder Soren had such complex feelings surrounding magic as a whole. Dark magic had saved him and let him stay a member of the Crownguard, but it had also taken away his family and harmed so many.
Corvus couldn’t help but be selfishly grateful for it, since it meant Soren was around to lounge in bed with him like this. He couldn’t fathom a world without Soren’s vibrance in it.
“Soren, you never fail to astound me,” Corvus said, leaning in to kiss Soren’s no-longer-ice-cold nose.
“Aw, thanks babe. Back at you.” A moment of silence. “I think. What exactly does astound mean?”
“Amazing. Wondrous. Incredible.”
Soren’s cheeks turned the prettiest shade of pink, and Corvus couldn’t help but give him a kiss. Soren shivered, and not because of the cold.
One kiss turned into multiple when Soren wrapped his arms around Corvus’s neck, fingers tangling in his hair, grasping at his back. Corvus tried to convey all of the love he felt for Soren, how glad he was that Soren was alive, into every touch of his hands, every brush of their lips.
“You know, I could think of some other ways you could help me stay warm…” Soren said once they broke apart, Corvus hovering over him. Soren followed up his statement with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.
“Soren!” Corvus chided, shoving lightly at his shoulder. “We have work soon.”
Soren shrugged. “Worth a shot.”
Corvus pressed a kiss to that same shoulder, snuggling into Soren as they laid back down to rest for a little while longer. “I didn’t say never. We have plenty more cold mornings in our future.”
“Yay!”
After that, they went quiet, enjoying each other's company. Corvus lay on top of Soren, head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. That big, beautiful heart of his. It was strong and sure, even through the fabric of Soren’s pajamas. It was the most beautiful sound Corvus had ever heard.
Corvus waited so long to say anything, he thought Soren might have fallen back to sleep.
“Darling?” he asked quietly, looking up at Soren’s face.
“Hmm?” came the groggy reply, eyes blearily blinking open.
“Thank you. For telling me. I know how difficult that was for you.”
“You make everything easier…” Soren said with a tender smile, sentence trailing off as his eyes closed once again. In moments, his breathing evened out.
Corvus brought the blankets up a little higher around them and closed his eyes.
...
Author's Note:
Thank you for reading!!
I tried to handle the topic of Soren being paralyzed as delicately as I could. I don't think he views it as a bad thing or that he was "saved" from it in the same way as his breathing sickness and I hope I portrayed that well.
Also, I personally imagine Soren's scarring to be kind of like Nora Valkyrie from RWBY after Volume 8!
My personal headcanon is that Corvus actually loves Soren’s little nicknames after they get together, but he just likes to keep them between them <3 and when Corvus is feeling especially affectionate he will also drop a pet name, which leaves Soren glowing for the rest of the day. And Corvus is almost always feeling especially affectionate when alone with Soren. Hence, multiple pet name drops this fic.
Also, Soren being a romance book reader is a headcanon originally thought up by the incredible jomipay on AO3/@halfofmysoulistrees on Tumblr. It's canon in my heart.
#sorvus#soren#corvus#the dragon prince#tdp#fanfic#corvus x soren#soren x corvus#my fanfic#my writing#personal
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
200 follower celebration event !
thank you so much for 200 followers!! very super cool of you guys for following me and interacting with the work I put out, it seriously means the world to me :)
to make it a little fun, I'm going to be writing song inspired fics, because music is definitely something that inspires me and my writing a lot! and also I like to know what other people are listening to because I'm nosey hehe. please make sure to read the rules !!!
this event will be running from today (jan 2nd) to jan 31st, ending 11:59pm GMT (may be subject to change)
how it works
please add all this information to your request :)
step 1: pick a clone, any clone
step 2: choose a dialogue prompt from the list below (or two, you can just give the prompt number)
step 3: give me a song to inspire the vibe/story of the fic
step 4: note any extra information you feel is important (such as any specific lyrics you love, tropes, story ideas, sfw/nsfw etc. etc.)
dialogue prompts
fluffy prompts
1. "I can't remember the last time I did this with someone"
2. "here, why don't we share?"
3. "I've missed this"
4. "you could stop staring now." / "oh no, absolutely not."
5. "read to me"
6. "come here sweetheart"
7. "you're just the cutest" / "you're the only one who is allowed to say that."
8. "give me your hand"
9. "come lie with me. let me hold you"
10. "look at that, your hand fits perfectly in mine"
angsty prompts
11. "did you really have to be that honest?"
12. "can we start over?"
13. "of course it meant something!"
14. "that isn't what I meant and you know it"
15. "everyone else might be buying it, but I'm not"
16. "I can't keep acting like I don't see something is wrong with you"
17. "we need to talk about that little stunt you pulled earlier"
18. "don't you ever wonder why I get like this?"
19. "what is your problem?"
20. "do you want my help or not?"
hurt/comfort prompts
21. "when's the last time you actually slept?"
22. "you're safe now"
23. "stop pretending that you're fine! you need a medic"
24. "I'm not leaving, okay?"
25. "how are you feeling?" / "will you stop asking me that"
26. "take these meds, they'll help"
27. "let me help you this time"
28. "I'm sorry" / "don't be sorry, it's not your fault"
29. "take your time, I'll be here when you're ready to talk"
30. "promise?" / "of course, I promise"
flirty prompts
31. "don't try to charm your way out of this" / "you think I'm charming?"
32. "bite me" / "I thought you'd never ask"
33. "why didn't we do this sooner?" / "you were too busy pretending you hated me"
34. "this isn't over" / "oh, I'll make sure of it"
35. "I can't help it, you're fun to mess with"
36. "why not tonight? I'm even wearing something pretty"
37. "you know... you're kinda cute when you're mad"
38. "were you always this pretty?"
39. "do you have a name or can I just call you mine?" / "does that line usually work for you?"
40. "hello beautiful, you alone here?" / "...we came here together"
smutty prompts
41. "hmm, you're not very patient are you?"
42. "can you kiss it better?"
43. "that's my good girl"
44. "you can do better than that sweetheart"
45. "I could make you feel better"
46. "is that a threat or a promise?"
47. "can you feel how much I want you?"
48. "staying quiet was never your strong suit, was it?" / "make me shut up then"
49. "louder. let me hear you pretty girl"
50. "can you be good for me?"
misc/extra prompts
51. "it's the middle of the night, what are you doing here?"
52. "I told you to knock first!"
53. "don't look at me like that" / "like what?"
54. "is that the best you can do?"
55. "I've been wanting to kick your ass all week"
56. "is that really necessary?"
57. "what are we?" / "you're asking me?"
58. "I can feel you staring at me. You aren't being very subtle, you know"
59. "do you have a crush on me or something?"
60. "you're so jealous it makes you look stupid"
request rules/guidelines
if your request goes against these, I will not complete it, so please read this carefully before requesting!
this event is exclusively for clone x fem/gn reader pairings, just because that's what I write for, but you're welcome to give suggestions like jedi!reader, medic!reader etc. but no clone x reader x clone
make sure to mention whether you want it to be sfw or nsfw !!!
I have the right to refuse any request if I'm just not vibing with it for whatever reason, or particularly if it's something I'm not comfortable with (non-exhaustive list incl: noncon & dubcon, aforementioned clonecest, AU stuff outside of the context of the star wars galaxy — like modern AU type stuff, motherhood/pregnancy/kids etc.)
abide by the request template; I want to keep all fics in this event within the same parameters
I will only be accepting requests between the given dates, any received afterwards will not be counted
if you don't plan on reblogging, don't request from me :)
extra info
I'll have anon requests on, but this is a follower event after all, so I'd prefer if you didn't use the anon function — the basic requirement is that you follow me and have interacted with my blog
feel free to message me if you have a more elaborate idea/want to discuss/clarify/bounce ideas off each other!! I'm always down for that anyway, so don't be shy :)
clones I'd like to write for if you want to take that into consideration: fives, wolffe, tech, echo (tbb), kix
alrighty! that's everything :)
as a reminder: this event is running until jan 31st so make sure to send in your request before then!
all works in this event will be tagged under #trex's 200 follower celebration, and will most likely be added to a masterlist at some point
I can't wait to see what you guys send in ! thank you again and happy requesting :)
— lia <3
#trex’s 200 follower celebration#the bad batch#the clone wars#star wars#clone troopers#clone x reader#the bad batch x reader
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fic Finder
Jan 4th
~*~
1. Hello! I'm trying to find what I'm fairly sure was a threadfic, though I could be mistaken. It had single dad wwx dating lwj, but a-yuan hated his dad's new bf, to the point that wwx ended up breaking up with lwj. But then a-yuan felt bad and schemed to get them back together. Thanks!
~*~
2. Hi everyone can someane please tell me the title of one fanfic of modao zu shi i seaching. A long time ago i discovered a fanfic of mo dao zu shi wich containe this infos :The plot vaguely is :after being taken under a curse lan zhan and wei ying spend the night in the cave and see know what they did ~~. Wei ying due to the curse was able to get pregnant and left to hide and raise her child (black hair but golden eyes like her father lan zhan). Wei ying and her child are taken care of by ghosts or a ghost I don't know anymore. After more twists Wei ying died like at the beginning of the original novel. After several years despite all these efforts Lanzhan was not able to call the soul of Wei Ying. Her son who became a little older then worked every day in secret on the dark spells like his mother did and tried to bring his mother back and succeeded etc...please if someone know about the title please tell me i read it in wattpad but today as i didn't know the title and as there are lot of fanfic i couldnt find it. @foxfel
~*~
3. Hello once more! Again thank you for finding the fics. This time there's this fic: WWX doesn't die cause Baoshan Sanren saves him after he throws himself off the cliff and he's tended to by her and Lan yi (who's BS's cultivation partner) and is in coma for 10 years. After waking up he doesn't have his memories and is thus named Genxin(Gengxin?)(he's names sth!) and can finally have the life he was denied as a child for the next 6 years. I also remember he wears beautiful clothes with different colors and cuts and this was the aspect that caught my eye. Also Nie Mingxue if found alive when he joins the mystery solving band. Sooo it'd be good if it can be found since all my search didn't bear fruit @raven-hale
FOUND? Until The End by abCEE (M, 365k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, war changes people, no pinning, LWJ learns how to speak, WWX is not oblivious, Established Relationship, wangxian are married and have a son, Mpreg, Good Uncle LQR, a little grey LWJ, a bit of JC bashing from LWJ, BAMF JYL, 16 years of yearning, Canon-Typical Violence, LSZ is LWJ & WWX's Child, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Canonical Character Death - WWX, Canon Rewrite, Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts)
~*~
4. Hi! I'm looking for a fic in where cultivator lwj gets zapped into modern times right in wwx's apartment. He says there for a while before retunifn back to his world to investigate some mysterious illness with lxc. Meanwhile, the Wens destroyed wwx life in the modern world and he got kicked out. Lwj doesn't know what happens to hum when he went back but wex switched places with mo xuanyu in lwj's reality and lwj is trying to piece together what happened to wei Ying as they both investigate the qi disease. There are also no duplicates across both worlds. The Wens run a health company called Wenquish. They were trying to ge Wen Ning on it too.
FOUND? take me back to a time by DizziDreams (T, 143k, WangXian, College/University, Modern with Magic, Time Travel, Sharing a Bed, Fish out of Water, Man Out of Time, WWX questionable decisions, LWJ lizard brain, Angst with a Happy Ending, WWX's lack of self-preservation, Student WWX, Time-Traveling Wizard LWJ, Slow Burn, Character Death, reference to abuse, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Abuse, Canon LWJ, Canon-Typical Violence, Mutual Pining, Chronic Illness, Not A Fix-It, WWX be like "i should be scared but instead im just horny", feat: lwj horny grip, Case Fic, Russian Translation Available, Transmigration, America, Spanish Translation Available, [Podfic of] take me back to a time by dreamhazer)
~*~
5. Hello! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I hope you can help me find this one fanfic! Lan Wangji was in a meeting i think and Wei Wuxian was walking around the cloud recessess then the lan juniors or juniors in general decided to follow him around (like little duckling following their mother) thankyou!
~*~
6. Hi! So there was this fic which I remember only reading the summary of, I don't actually start it (I think cause it was a WIP or maybe I didn't like a tag??) but it was basically that WRH had a list of all the future oracles, and the last one on the list was WWX
~*~
7. Hi! This is fic finder. Set in modern era. A-yuan lives in orphanage. He and the children there is not treated kindly by the matron (? I dont know what they are called) but a-yuan gets the worse treatment. I think the matron is Wang Lingjiao. And then the Lan comes and wants to adopt him. There are trial time i think for a-yuan to decide if he wants to be adopted or not but in the end he accept. Then the Lan announced that they are searching for someone (WWX). I think its because a-yuan asked them? I dont remember why. And then WWX comes using a bus but when he arrived he saw that a-yuan is happy so he go back. I think Su She who work as security for the lan noticed him and chased WWX away. I think he followed WWX too. After that Su She noticed a pendant that WWX wears and accused him for stealing. Something happen and then WWX lives in the Lan estate. Wangxian falls in love. And then it was revealed that WWX wants to adopt a-yuan but WLJ does something that males WWX cant adopt a-yuan. I dont remember if WWX tells LWJ or he found out that a-yuan is the late WRH grandchild. Thats all i can remembeer. Thanks! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername
~*~
8. I had it bookmarked but can't find it. Please help! Ai remember the fic had wwx in the demon slaughtering cave but it wasn't a real cave it was modern au I think and he snuck into the demon slaughtering cave for comfort i think i don't fully remember?
~*~
9. Hello! For fic finder: modern setting, wei ying didnt know about aftercare, so after hooking up with lan zhan he gets confused by his dom trying to take care of him and tries to leave, confusing lan zhan in turn. wen qing had been looking out for him after his hook ups previously. despite not usually hooking up with the same person more than once, he keeps seeing lan zhan. wei ying is scared of being too clingy, but lan zhan explains the concept of aftercare, leading to wei ying wondering why his previous doms never bothered and if he had done something wrong, which lan zhan refutes. they end up deciding to date.
FOUND? try a little tenderness by ilip13 (E, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, BDSM, Dom/sub, Aftercare, Subdrop, Reference to bad BDSM etiquette in wwx’s past, Reference to wwx’s self-worth issues, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Little bit of miscommunication in the beginning but they get better at it, Blow Jobs, Masturbation, Reference to BDSM scenes)
~*~
10. Hello! A good while ago I read a fanfic (modern au) in which wwx had a depressive episode in which he couldn't even get out of bed, I haven't been able to find if and I was wondering if lt sounded familiar to anyone? ♡ @menimimimeni
~*~
11. Can you help me find s fic that was i think a/b/o, but im not quite sure, and it was a mafia au and wwx was pregnant?
~*~
12. Hello! Good morning/afternoon/evening! I'm asking for fic finder :D Looking for the fic where the entire nie sect traveled back in time except for Nie Mingjue and he's very much confuse on why everyone is treating him differently. specific scenes like the cooks preparing his favorite meals, his cousins/nie disciples taking turns to guard him
thank you!!
~*~
13. Hi! I'm a big fan of your work. Thank you for compiling lists of recs and finding fics!
I've been looking for a specific cannon divergent fic. I remember everything mostly going the same up until the end of the Sunshot campaign.
For some reason, the wens aren't killed off. A new original character is put in charge. Either NHS, WWX or JZX thinks something is up with the new wen clan leader an sect leader Jin.
For some reason WWX ends up in cloud recesses. Marriage or healing?
There are also two memorable sect conferences in the story where JGS uses demonic cultivation (either WWX's work or help from the new wen sect) to control people. The first one is used to upset the sect leader's and get them angry. WWX finds out about this one and tells people. For the most part it backfires, and JGS tries to blame it on him then uses someone else as a scapegoat. JYL is pregnant with JL, and the array makes her feel sick and leave. I don't think NMJ was affected though.
The second time, an array is hidden in JGS bedroom and is like some kind of aphrodisiac/compulsion array for JGS to assault some young woman.
In the end, JGS next victim kills him publicly and the Jin and Wen sects are exposed. Wen Qing is the next Wen leader and the Jin sect has a lot of restructuring to do. @hopesteapot-blog
~*~
14. Hi! This is a request for a 3-Jun centric fic. Really hoping you will find it...
It’ set with Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue as assassins, working under Jun Guangshan and Wen Ruohan respectively. Lan Xichen is a teacher in some kind of a politically cordoned off sensitive place and holds the secret to access the Yiling patriarch through his brother, LWJ. MY NMJ get assigned to LXC, being forced to work together to get their hands on some weapon or something… WWX is rumoured to be dead, but actually is the elusive Yiling patriarch, secretly working for the Jiang siblings. It is a complete story, and sooooo good and I wanna reread it, but i cant find it 🥲
Thanks so much!!!
FOUND? The Man From Y.I.L.I.N.G. by Eleanor_Fenyx, little-smartass (Linxcat) (M, 123k, 3zun, WangXian, JYL/JZX, JC & WWX & JYL, The Man From U.N.C.L.E AU, Spies & Secret Agents, Modern, but make it mid-1960's cold war China, JGS's A+ Parenting, The homoeroticism of falling in love with your mark, and also your unwanted mission partner who irritates the shit out of you)
~*~
15. Hello i'm looking for a fic where lwj was an emperor, the kingdom held a concubine selection and wwx was forced to participate by yu ziyuan, and unfortunate for him he was chosen. The wen siblings became his servants. In the fic i think he tried to be kicked out of the palace/harem but emperor lwj was quit smitten,and i think lwj already knew wwx, but wwx didn't know him. In one of the scenes lwj found out that he got treated poorly from the other servant/concubines, and wangxian where intimate real fast. @ahiku-chan
~*~
16. happy new year, mods! looking for a fic: I'm not sure if it might have been in a modern setting, but it's one where there are multiple versions of wwx from the past, including a child, that the present wwx buries in his garden and has to kill (?) over and over. lwj initially doesn't know but eventually finds out about this secret. thank you! @potatokunst
FOUND? Howling by MimiSpearmint (E, 40k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mortal Instruments Fusion, Horror, Eldritch, Domestic Fluff, Single Parent WWX, Witchcraft, Getting Together, shifter!lwj, yllz!wwx, Intercrural Sex, Hand Jobs, Angst with a Happy Ending, Switch WangXian, a bit of a degradation kink, anti-STI sex talismans, Anal Sex, Oral Sex)
~*~
17. hello, I'm looking for a fic where a young LWJ meets his older self multiple times during the canon timeline. The first time the younger LWJ sees him, it is around the time of the cloud recesses study arc, and he mistakes his older self to be his father. He has multiple conversations with his older self. Thank you as always for your help! @classygreydove
~*~
18. Hi I’m looking for this fic where lan wangji and Wei wuxian are already together post canon. Wwx is messing around with his talismans and accidentally curses lan zhan to kill him. The rest of the fic (3-4chapter I think) is wwx trying to undo the curse and lan zhan trying to kill him. There’s an explicit scene and wwx uses that as a distraction to escape and there’s a river I think?? Anyway thank you!!
~*~
19. Searching for a fic that I read a along time ago on archive and any help in locating would be appreciated.
Wei Yings a god and he meets kid Lan Zhan one night. He drops some sort of Wen artifact that helps Lan Zhan save Gusu when the Wens attacked. Wei Ying is punished and doesnt see LanZhan for a long time. Next time they see each other Lan Zhan is grown and Wei Ying fondly calls Lan Zhan his little light bearer. Lan Zhan falls in love but Wei Ying does not understand human feelings. Push and tug, Wei Ying seals with powers as a god within bells to experience human emotions. Cant remember anymore details. Any help is appreciated @katwkay
FOUND? Flaming Gentians by Honey_and_Chocolate (T, 28k, WangXian, WIP, Immortal WWX, Fox WWX, Dragon LWJ, Older WWX, Younger LWJ, Child LWJ, Burial Mounds, Attractive WWX, YLLZ WWX, Soulmates, Self-Indulgent, Fluff and Humor, WWX likes to wear accessories, earrings mainly, WWX has been friends with almost every important figure of the cultivation world, presumed engagement, heaven is just another world, one that WWX has made scared shitless of him for eternity)
FOUND? classygreydove: 19 is "Lying on the Edge of a Star" I'm pretty sure. It was a fic I also asked wangxianficfinder to find and later discovered the fic was moved to a hidden collection. I spent a lot of time tracking a copy of it down using wayfinder/internet archive. @/katwkay if u want the pdf of the fic feel free to dm me
~*~
20. Happy new year buddy!
A) Can you help me find a fic where WWX comes back alive (looking like a hobo. I think he was in his original body) and learns that people are competing to marry LWJ. He receives proposals from various sects including an older woman I think..
Obviously none would win. I think WWX wins against all of them (lookin like a hobo).
B) There is a similar fic where people trying to defeat LWJ so that they can marry him. There was a instance where both of them where walking and a man outta nowhere came and have a sword fight with LWJ much to WWX's chargin.
.
I'm not sure if both of the above fic are the same....😅 @grrumpywoof
20B)
FOUND? dream of a funeral; hear of a marriage by defractum (nyargles) (T, 36k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, First Time, Fluff and Humor)
~*~
49 notes
·
View notes
Note
I read all your tags and I’d like to suggest that in bed Zoro and Sanji also sleep this way. Sanji’s side of the bed being the left and Zoro’s the right because they trust each other to cover their blind spots.
I could write a fic about this ong
Okay, okay yes!!!! I agree!!!! But also might I add a bit from my hc that I discussed in this post I made about the Straw Hats' sleeping arrangements where I mentioned that I think that Zoro would choose the one of the beds closest to the door partly because he's inherently a protector (there are studies that show that people who choose to sleep closets to the door/facing the door do so because they want to protect/defend while those who sleep furthest from the door tend to want to be protected and hide or run) But from the way I hc their sleeping arrangements and how that would change/be affected by relationships, I had Zoro opting to sleep in Sanji's bunk and while I never said it, I always imagined Sanji sleeping to the left of Zoro, partly because Zoro would insist on sleeping closest to the door and party because I think that (whether Sanji realizes it or not) Sanji doesn't like to feel vulnerable when sleeping so he would sleep better with Zoro on his right and closer to the door And I think that they are not really aware that they do this and that they're not consciously protecting each other, they just do it inherently I also think that Zoro sleeps a little better too, knowing that he can trust Sanji to protect him on his more vulnerable side But I also think a contributing factor to Zoro preferring Sanji to be on his left would have to do a bit with Zoro always wanting to know when Sanji is awake/gotten out of bed They originally would have swapped bunks because Zoro hated being woken up by Sanji in the morning, but I think that even after they swapped Zoro was still woken up anyways (I have a whole other hc about how and why I think that Zoro is actually a really light sleeper) because he'd sense any movement in the room and automatically wake up a little bit, but this doesn't really bother him because he likes to know where everyone is, for safety reasons (and let's face it, he can instantly fall asleep after lol) Once him and Sanji start sleeping in the same bed I think that they'd be further along in their relationship (I'm currently working on a timeline for when and how I think their relationship would develop) and Zoro might have a bit more anxiety around Sanji's safety because even though he knows that Sanji can easily handle himself, I think that Sanji's self-sacrificial tendencies would honestly really affect Zoro if he admitted it or not But yeah...I'm very normal about this hc so normal about the intrinsic trust these two have in each other and how easily and naturally they are combat partners without ever discussing anything, they just know~ I'm incredibly normal about how quick they are to know when the other needs help and how they don't hesitate to help each other and trust that the other will always be there when they need them and when they need protection yup yup...very normal I too could write a whole fic on this concept~ Edit: to anyone wondering what post this is referring to, it's this one with my long ass tags on it
#Zosan#for the record I do plan to write fics at one point I just gotta find the time lol#hi 👋 you just followed me and now you're gonna learn how much I ramble in my tags like this#also also might be about to invite you to the Zosan community because I enjoy your hc~~#anyways...#Sophia answers#Sophia talks too much#sorry that took me a minute to answer I do be long winded af and also typing this up at work >.>#Zoro#Sanji#hc
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Was That A Snort?
Written specially for @whiskeyandcigarsmoke Thank you for supporting my writing! 😭 I always feel slightly awkward when anyone who is not in the t-community reads my stuff because most probably think I'm a fucking weirdo for centering all my fics around tickling, but I appreciate your open-mindedness and ability to see the cute aspect of it all. 🥰
Some snorty, ticklish Logan for your viewing pleasure!
"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse
Word Count: 6,504 (Sorry it came out kinda long. 😬)
Wade yawned as he wandered into the kitchen one morning in his bathrobe to put on a pot of coffee, cursing as he remembered on his way in that they had run out the day before. Much to his surprise the smell of fresh coffee hit his nostrils as he found that there was a pot already freshly brewed on the countertop.
An explanation of how that came to be was revealed when a rustle of paper to the side drew his attention as he turned to find Logan sitting at the small kitchen table and quietly reading the newspaper. He was already fully dressed and looked like he had been up for a while.
"Well someone's an early riser today. Thanks for handling the coffee situation," Wade toasted him with a mug he had grabbed from the shelf in one of the cupboards before filling it from the bubbling hot pot.
"Couldn't find any here this morning so I went to the store and picked some up. Grabbed some donuts while I was out too. Help yourself," Logan nodded to the pink carboard box on the table without even looking up from his paper.
"Yess! Did you happen to get any of the cream-filled ones?" Wade asked hopefully, sitting at the table next to him as Logan reached over and flipped the box open for him.
"Yeah, there should be a couple in there somewhere. Also got some of those ones with the kiddie cereal on top that I know ya like."
Wade squealed in excitement as he plucked a donut covered in Lucky Charms from the box, moaning over-excessively as he took a large bite.
"Mmmm! Oh God, mmm MM! That's a literal flavor-filled orgasm in my mouth. You're an absolute angel," Wade carried on as Logan huffed through his nose with a small smile.
"I don't appreciate the slander, Wilson. And I was kinda enjoying the peace and quiet so would ya mind keepin' it down a little?"
Wade nodded and replied between chews.
"Yup. I can do that. Mmm hmm. Not a peep from me. Won't even know I'm here," he then began loudly sucking the melted icing off of his fingers before looking up to find Logan giving him a hard stare, "I'm sorry, would you like some?"
Wade offered him his hand as Logan grimaced in disgust and leaned away from him, trying to get back to reading.
"All yours, bub. Couldn't pay me to suck on those fingers."
"Are you implying that I could pay you to suck on something else? Because if that's true then have I got the proposition for you," Wade suggestively spoke in a lower tone, pleased to see he'd managed to get under Logan's skin as he promptly threw down his newspaper with a groan
"Can't you ever just be fucking normal for one day?"
"Let me see.....uhhh nope. I'm afraid there's no changing me. And you, my friend, are lucky to have a front row seat to the amazing world of Wade," he placed a hand on Logan's knee and teasingly danced his fingers up his inner thigh before being slapped away.
"My eternal punishment you mean. If God himself were to take pity on me and strike me down today it still wouldn't have been soon enough," Logan shook his head as he folded up the newspaper to put aside while Wade narrowed his eyes in response to his last comment.
"Say sike right now," he pointed a demanding finger at the other man who only tilted his head in slight confusion.
"What's that mean?"
"It means take it back, you insolent pig!"
"What? Did I actually hit a nerve?" Logan smirked, taking a bite of the old-fashioned donut he'd just selected from the box.
"I'm gonna have to plead the fifth. That's gross by the way," Wade cringed a little at how Logan dunked his donut into his coffee before biting into it, "But in theory if I were to say that you did, would you apologize?"
"Not even on my theoretical death bed, dipshit," Logan flipped Wade his middle finger as he ate the last bite of his donut.
Wade knew he was just playing his game with him, but that didn't mean he couldn't consider options for reprisal.
"Always such a charmer. Well in that case how about if I make you take it back, stud?"
Logan scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"Pffft, good one. How the fuck do ya think you're gonna do that?"
"I have my ways. I'm a highly trained mercenary you know and believe it or not I have a plethora of all kinds of torture methods stored inside my pea-sized brain," Wade smiled innocently as Logan just nodded, never one to take anything the man said completely serious.
"Sure, bub. I'm warning ya though, you give me another wet willy and I'm throwing your ass out that window over there," he gestured over his shoulder to the window on the far wall where a three-story drop would await the prankster.
"Dually noted. Do not worry your Canadian cojones about it though, I have no doubt the inspiration will come to me," Wade tapped the side of his head.
"Well don't exhaust your last brain cell tryin' to figure it out," Logan slapped him on the back as he got up from his chair and walked to the counter to refill his coffee, "I've got over 200 years of experience under my belt, and I've been conditioned to resist any kinda torture you can possibly think of."
"Anything, huh?" Wade pondered aloud, observing the man who had his back to him as he filled up his mug and fiddled with the sugar packets at the counter.
He knew Logan spoke with truth as the X-man became a storyteller when drunk and described many instances where he'd been made to suffer by enemies. Everything from as minor as being burnt with lit cigarettes all the way up to more grotesque things like being vivisected while fully conscious. Not to mention the excruciating adamantium process that he had barely survived.
Like Wade, Logan's pain threshold was off the charts and the man really could take a lot of physical abuse. Of course, Wade wasn't compelled to hurt him that badly, or even at all. He really only wanted to get a good response from him that would serve as lighthearted payback.
He just had the urge to put hands on him, though Logan had already warned him against the wet willies, and messing with his hair was also a call for trouble. He'd risk his prestigious reputation for being eccentric if he didn't think of something quick.
"Awful quiet back there, Wade. Shit, must be too late. Not one intelligible thought left in that head of yours, huh? Halle-fuckin'-lujah, I thought this day would never come."
He could practically hear the arrogant smirk on Logan's face and before Wade knew it, he was instinctively out of his seat and silently approaching behind Logan who was preoccupied with trying to clean up the sugar he'd spilled onto the counter space.
"Such a damn shame. Guess we won't be calling you 'The Merc With the Mouth' anymore. You can be the 'The Merc Who Finally Shut His Annoying Fucking-'.....!!!" His words were cut off by a gasp when he felt fingers digging into his ribcage from behind as his legs nearly buckled from the sensations.
His arms snapped down against his sides while he writhed for a few seconds against the counter before an unfortunate laugh made it out from his lips. He immediately bit it back as he finally managed to turn around and shove the attacking merc several feet away.
Logan's brows drew together as he just gaped incredulously at his daring roommate.
"The fuck are you doing?!"
Wade was grinning like a predator that had just cornered its prey; his mind racing in overdrive at having detected an actual weakness of the gruff Wolverine, who now had complete alarm plastered all over his face.
"Hmm, looks like I'm the one now who has struck a nerve. A ticklish nerve by the looks of it," Wade rubbed his hands together menacingly, growing more excited by the moment as Logan's eyes widened in unmitigated panic.
"What?! Tickling?! That's ridiculous! You just....surprised me is all!" He stammered out very unconvincingly while Wade delighted in watching him figuratively squirm.
"Funny, I've never seen literally anyone have that reaction to being surprised. But okay, let me try what I just did one more time except now you won't be surprised by it, right? Coming in hot...," Wade had his hands raised into clawed form with fingers wiggling as he started to lunge for the other man, but Logan instantly put his own hands up in defense to halt him.
"Alright Wade, alright. Fuck. You win. I'm a little ticklish. But Wade c'mon, this is asinine. I'm a grown man. You can't just fucking tickle me," Logan tried to reason with him even though he knew it was all for nothing, receiving that confirmation by the way that Wade laughed at him.
"Oh yes I fucking can. There's no age limit for tickling, even for a geezer like you. Besides if there was then people would grow out of it and stop being ticklish, but guess what? Most don't. Which means anyone who hasn't is still fair game, and that includes you, sugar tits. I'll leave it up to you though. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way," Wade began cracking his knuckles for effect as Logan desperately tried to figure a way out of this.
"I swear if you even lay a finger on me.....," Logan cautioned with a deep growl as he swelled up his oversized muscles, this attempt at intimidation normally succeeding in making any sane man back down. But unfortunately for him, Wade wasn't a sane man, along with the fact that Logan hadn't released his claws which Wade had learned to perceive as a full-on green light.
"Is that your way of saying you're picking the hard way? Because you know I'm quite partial to things being hard myse-AAaggh! You dirty skank!!" Wade yelped as Logan had thrown the hot coffee he'd been holding into the merc's face and roughly shoved past him.
Naturally Wade recovered quickly as he tore after his roommate, even more amped than before to make him pay.
"Awww come back Wolviiiiie! I just want to talk!"
"Just fuck off! If you even try, I'll cut your damn head off" Logan shouted in trepidation, picking up a crudely put together Ikea end table and launching it at Wade with the merc easily dodging it as it smashed against the wall.
"It will be all worth it, babygirl. I couldn't think of a more desirable death if I tried," Wade grinned and in his pursuit his robe had come undone, revealing that he was wearing nothing but his My Little Pony boxers underneath as Logan grimaced once he noticed.
"Are you kidding me?! Gross! Do not fuckin' come near me dressed like that! You hear me?!" Logan warned him, jumping over the couch to escape with Wade hot on his tail.
"What in the shit is going on out here?!" Althea yelled as she opened the bedroom door to walk out into the living room where the chaos was ongoing, "Stupid sons of bitches can't even let an old woman sleep-in just one motherfucking day?"
As they ran past her, Wade tripped and fell to the floor before scrambling back to his feet to continue the chase.
"Sorry Al! But I've got me a Wolverine to tickle the crap out of!"
"I should've never given you caffeine and sugar this early in the morning!" Logan cursed as he circled back around, looking for cover and running to stand behind the smaller, elderly woman.
"Althea! Call him off!" He pleaded while he used her temporarily as a shield between him and Wade for a few short-lived moments before he had to abandon her and make another break for it.
"Wade Wilson you stop picking on that poor boy!" She yelled after them as Wade only scoffed in amusement.
"Ha! Boy?! He's more ancient than your old ass!"
Althea just sighed loudly with a shake of her head as she turned to start shuffling back into her room.
"Well....time to turn down the old hearing aids," she muttered as she fiddled with the devices in her ears, "You two assholes break anything else in this apartment and you're going to have to deal with me!"
Logan paused as he saw she was abandoning him to his fate with the ADHD-riddled man and called after her.
"AL WAIT!! Let me come with you!" But the door slammed shut behind her without another word.
Unfortunately, his lack of attention to his would-be assailant proved costly as Wade was now able to make his move and easily tackled Logan to the floor. He quickly mounted him to sit on his legs in order to keep them out of the way.
"For the record, you can cum with me anytime you want. But let's save the fantasies for later, you naughty boy. Now time to get to the point of why these readers are all here," Wade teased as Logan fought and pushed against him, trying to hold him back.
"Wade get the fuck off me! You're practically naked for fucks sake!" He grimaced when he felt something hard press against his leg, "GOD that had better be a gun in your underwear!"
Wade glanced down at his lack of attire, reaching casually inside his boxer shorts and pulling out one of his golden Desert Eagles.
"Of course it is, silly! Always gotta be prepared for anything, you know. Not particularly needed in this situation though," he tossed it over his shoulder as he continued to struggle with his friend, who grabbed a hold of his arms to keep him at bay.
"Dammit, Wade! This is-Grrrrr! Get your hands offa me!"
"But I haven't touched you yet. You're the one putting your hands on me. So if you insist on being accurate...," Wade slipped an arm free as his hand dove straight for Logan's side to begin viciously squeezing his lower ribs, making the man jerk under him as he ground his teeth together.
"Don't! Rrrrrrgh-Stop!"
"Don't stop, you say? I hadn't planned too, but glad we're on the same page here!"
Logan's grip started to weaken its hold on Wade's other arm with him now being able to easily pull free as his fingers buried themselves into the opposite side. Logan grunted and attempted to hold in all the sounds threatening to come out as he writhed and tried to push Wade off of him.
"I didn't mean thahat! Ahaha! Waitwait! D-Don't do this to mehehehee!"
He was quickly starting to lose the battle as the giggles began to overwhelm him and a wide smile stretched itself across his face. Wade could smell the blood in the water at this point and wasn't letting up for nothing, dying to see exactly how far he'd be able to run with this.
"How come? I'm gonna need a pretty good fucking reason. Is it because you're actually a lot more ticklish than you claimed? And if that's true then that means...," Wade gasped dramatically, "....you LIED to me?!"
He roughly massaged his thumbs on the sensitive sides of his waist as Logan broke into convulsions and finally bellowed out in thunderous laughter.
"Hahahaha! No!! No no stahahahahaap! Thahahaat tickles!" His head thrashed around as he laughed and bucked in response to the merciless tickles vibrating into his sides. He futilely tried to curl up with his arms, but with Wade sitting on his legs it still left him plenty exposed.
"Duh! It's supposed to, genius! Besides you asked for this Mr. 'I-can-resist-any-torture-you-can-think-of'. Not so confident about that now, are you?" Wade grinned big time as his fingers worked their way back up his victim's ribs, making Logan's arms clamp down uselessly while his body jerked from side to side.
"It's cheheeheeheeatin'! Hehehehehaahaa! T-Ticklin' ain't fahahahaair, you ahahahasshole!"
He was slowly coming around since moving into the apartment, so it was still pretty rare to see Logan laugh this much, but Wade absolutely loved when he did. His whole reserved appearance, including his posture, completely transformed, and it was his entire face that lit up and displayed his smile.
Wade wasn't too keen to let that slip through his fingers any time soon.
"Meh, fair is subjective. Besides I was only like 33.726894% sure that this would even work on you. I've never been a gambling man, but I'm sure glad I took a chance on this because good Lord, you literally have the cutest laugh! Now perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me, where's your most ticklish spot?!"
Logan had not been tickled in a very, very long time and had completely forgotten what it had felt like. Actually, he had forgotten what a lot of non-violent physical contact felt like until he had met Wade Wilson, who was way more affectionate towards him than what he'd been used to over the past several years.
That uncertainty about what it felt like to be tickled initially had him concerned about Wade's prospective threat to do so, but at the present time he now realized that it wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be.
The heightened senses derived from his mutation had resulted in him being incredibly ticklish, and while he had thought it to be a nuisance in his earlier days, he was able to see the benefit of it helping to bond with those he had found himself close to. The other X-men in particular were big time offenders once they found out.
He was never one to laugh freely or even smile all that much, so his teammates were happy to find such a simple way to get that all out of him. And it always felt nice for the laughter to release some of the tension he carried around with him no matter how much he might resist it at first.
It had mainly been his sardonic attitude or defiance that would land him in trouble with the other X-men, and he remembered how he used to egg on and taunt whoever on his team got up the nerve to really tickle him like this.
Only after they were gone had he finally accepted the fact that the X-men were his family and the feelings from those happier times all started to come back to him now. Along with the guilt of having taken all of that for granted.
With Wade currently tickling him he found it was actually a comforting feeling to relive those fleeting moments that he'd had with his old team. And even though it was such a torturous assault on his hyper nerves it didn't really bother him as much as he might have tried to make it seem.
And he wasn't going to let Wade totally dominate the situation as he didn't hesitate to play the tenacious victim.
"Fuhuhuhuck yoooou! Gaahahahahaa! I-heeheehee-wohohon't talk!" Logan spewed out between cackles as a particularly sensitive spot was being probed on his upper ribs just below his armpits.
Wade reeled back a little, feeling more than surprised by his response. He'd thought by this point that Logan would be saying anything to get himself out of this, but it filled him with unrivaled glee to see that he was going to make this a lot more fun than he had originally thought.
"Woah, what the shit is this?! So the Wolverine isn't just going to roll over and take it? Whoooeee! I love it! So not gonna talk, are you? You know I was considering mercy a moment ago, but I don't think you really deserve it. Not to mention you said mean things to me and burnt my beautiful face with that coffee! My modeling career is over before it even started!"
"And-Ahahahand I'd doohooo it agahahahain, fuhuhucker!"
"Holy shit, you cocky little bitch. I guess you really don't want me to stop, huh?"
"I-I do! Hahaahaahaahah! Juhuhust fuhuhuhuck you is ahahahahall! Now gehehet offa meheheheeh!" He kicked his legs about restlessly underneath Wade as he tried to wriggle free.
"Hold your perfect titties there, mister. I still want to know where you're the most ticklish, for future reference. So where is it? Is it....HERE?" Wade stuffed his hands up into Logan's armpits where his fingers spidered around like crazy, making Logan throw his head back and let out a high-pitched squeal of a laugh.
"Aaaheeheeheehee! Th-thaahaat ain't ihihihit! Ohohohahahahahahaa! Buhuhut still...," he paused to wheeze for air, laughing in silence for a few moments while knocking his head back against the floor, "Geh-Gehehet the fuhuhuck outta thehehehere!"
Logan thrashed like a beached fish, trying to squeeze the tormenting fingers out from under his arms but Wade only burrowed in deeper to guarantee the torture would not relent.
"No can do, compadre! I'm gonna find your worst spot if I have to tickle you all day! Don't think that I won't!"
Knowing that really Wade could locate the hot spot at any given moment with how accessible it was Logan decided to swallow his pride and tried to bargain with him.
"If I t-tehehell you-aahahhaha wihihill ya stohahahahop?!"
He was optimistic, but Wade shut that shit down immediately.
"Um NO! Actually, FUCK NO! Once you tell me I'm going to tickle the absolute shit out of you there! So I'm letting you know right now that once I figure it out then you are in big trouble!" He emphasized his last word with a firm jab to Logan's stomach, eliciting a startled squeal from the man beneath him.
Wade instantly stopped tickling him as they locked in eye contact, watching as Logan's pupils quickly began to dilate in panic within his hazel eyes.
"You've got to be shitting me.....Is it really that obvious? You're telling me that this exquisite cobblestone pathway carved into your body is not only the sexiest, but it's also the most sensitive of all?" He smiled unnervingly as he very gently trailed his fingers down Logan's belly, making him twitch violently under him from that action alone.
"Eeheehee-Easy Wade.....Lets b-be reasonable here..."
Logan knew he had to act fast to get out of this. He could hold up against being tickled anywhere else, but an attack on his stomach pretty much guaranteed his downfall.
While Wade was momentarily distracted by the marvel of his discovery Logan took the opportunity to buck his hips as hard as he could to throw the mercenary off of him.
"HEY!" Wade hit the floor before immediately looking up to see Logan attempting to make his escape, "Oh no you don't, you sneaky bastard! I'm not through with you yet!"
Logan tried to scramble away on all fours to get some distance between him and Wade, but the other man was quick to grab his ankle as he dragged him back over with Logan shaking his head and pleading for lenience.
"No no no! For fucks sake! Wade please! Dohohon't you dare!" He was giggling already in anticipation as Wade pulled him close and then crawled on top to pin him again, grinning at the subdued state he was in.
Wade thought back to all the times he had fawned over his often-shirtless friend and made countless attempts to feel up his very pronounced abdominal muscles only to receive a harsh punch along with a threat to keep his hands to himself. But he now realized it wasn't because Logan was being stingy and not wanting to be touched in general, it was because he was trying to hide the fact that his stomach was so unbearably ticklish.
"I've never seen you so giggly like this Logan. It's positively adorable. But tell you what, I'll give you a chance to save yourself if you apologize for being such an ass to me this morning. And I want to hear some sincerity in there or else your tummy is going to get it," Wade waved his fingers in Logan's face as the feral nodded without hesitation.
"Okay okay fine, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I referred to you as an eternal punishment. And that I implied you had no rational thought whatsoever in your head."
"And.....?" Wade lightly rested his fingers onto Logan's stomach as a threat, pleased to see how it made him dissolve into giggles again.
"Aahaahaand I'm s-sorry I buhuhurned your face-Aaahee!" he yelped as the fingers dug in ever so slightly.
"My beautiful face!" Wade corrected with a smirk of victory.
"Okaahaay! Your beautiful faahaace with the coffeeheeheehee," Logan sputtered out the best that he could, grateful when Wade lifted his hand away from the hyper ticklish zone.
"Well thanks for that, pal. See? That wasn't so difficult, was it? I knew deep down you had a little humility in there," Wade tweaked his sideburn and tickled down his neck as Logan wiggled his head away from the touch before meeting his gaze with a defiant twinkle in his eyes.
"Oh yeah, one more thing I oughta mention. I'm also sorry that you are without a doubt, one hundred percent the most annoying, blabbering, dimwitted, lousy excuse for a comedian to ever exist. And I'm sorry I lied about being sorry for everything because the truth is I will never, ever be truly sorRYEEHeeHEeehEEhEE!!"
Logan had tried to prep himself but still couldn't stop from breaking into wild, squealing laughter once Wade's hands descended upon his stomach with lightning speed; his fingers scribbling like crazy all over the hidden muscles beneath his thin t-shirt. Wade just beamed down at him, not taking anything that was said to heart and so glad that Logan had given him the excuse to carry on.
"Whelp. I guess this is how it all ends for you. Tickled to death isn't exactly how most people would have expected the legendary Wolverine to go, but I'll make sure to sing the story of your menial demise," he wasn't holding back since Logan had practically asked for this as he mercilessly tickled the helplessly squirming man beneath him.
"Ihihihihit wahahas wo-wohohohorth ihihihit! Aaahahahafuhuhuhuhuck! Nohohot thehehere! Stahahahahahap-Snnnrk!" Logan's face was already bright red from his ears down to his neck as he laughed uncontrollably with that last sound that came out of him immediately catching Wade's attention.
"What in the-? What the fuck was that?" A quirky smile began to spread over Wade's face as he haphazardly dug his fingers into Logan's abs, eager to duplicate what had just occurred., "Was that a snort?"
Wade already had him in tears as Logan adamantly shook his head, instantly being disproven as another snort rang out of his scrunched-up nose.
"Snnrk! N-No! Yohohohou're hehehehehearin' thihihihings!"
Wade had heard Logan snort before. Many times, as a matter of fact, but he always thought it was something that Logan forced to emphasize his aversion to whatever Wade was currently talking about. Wade was positively enamored to know now that it was all just part of his genuine laugh.
"Are you sure about that? Are you sure you're not just a cute little giggly, snorty Wolverine? Because I think that's exactly what you are."
"Shuhuhut uhuhuhup! Ya-Snnnrk-dihihihick!" Logan felt his face flush even more with Wade teasing him in such a childish manner, too weakened by his laughter to be able to push the hyper man's hands away from his body.
As his fingers rippled into the solid tummy Wade grew more and more amused by this whole situation. He would have never been able to picture Logan in this helpless of a state if he hadn't seen it for himself and when you added in his constant snorting between his laughs it just pushed everything straight into a fantasy realm.
But it was all happening for real. And the more Logan snorted, the more Wade himself began to laugh.
"Wh-Whahat's the matter? Hehehe, the all-mighty anchor-being can be destrohohoyed by mere tickles? Oh, this universe is f-fuhuucked now," Wade giggled, trying to keep his focus and observing how Logan's t-shirt had slid up his stomach a bit. He pushed it up even further so now his hands were scratching at hairy, bare skin as Logan screamed and thrashed helplessly underneath him.
"Naaahahahahahaha! I-I nehehehever-Snnnrk-ahahahasked for-Snnrk-the johohohob! Snnnnrk!" Logan was losing control and unable to stop the snorting now as he would desperately try to get a breath in through his chaotic laughter.
"Are-Are yoohoou just gohohoing to keep doing thahaat?! Snorting lihihike a little pihihiggy?!" Wade was starting to lose it himself.
"Snnnrk! Kihihiss my ahaahaahaass-Snnnnrk!!"
"I'd love too-heeheeheh! Ohohor I could dohoo THIS!" Wade's hands slid down as he targeted the ever so tempting V-line muscles on the Wolverine's lower belly and once he dug into the highly ticklish flesh Logan just about lost his mind in hysterics.
"BAAHAHAHAHAHAHANOOONO! SNNNRK! OKAAHAAHAAY! YA WIHIHIHIN! AAAHAHAHAAH-SNNNNRK! MEHEHEHRCY! I'M-SNNRK-I'M SOHOHOHORRY!" Logan squealed and snorted as he regained a burst of energy and jolted around violently like he was being shocked with a cattle prod.
It had proven all too much for Wade to stay composed as he broke into uncontrollable laughter, unable to keep tickling Logan any longer as he sat back and just got lost in his own laughing fit.
Logan lay under him, now motionless and wheezing as he gasped to take in some big breaths to refill his depleted lungs. When he finally came to his senses, he found Wade was still laughing hysterically, prompting Logan to roll his eyes and shove the merc off of him so he could sit up.
Wade hardly seemed to notice as he fell to the floor, holding his sides while tears ran down his cheeks.
"What?" Logan stared over at him with a brow raised in confused annoyance.
"Th-The snohohohorts! Haahahahahah! Oh fuhuhuhuck, the snohohohohohorts!" Wade struggled to spit out as Logan now began to frown once he realized that Wade was laughing at him.
"It's not that funny, asshole," he growled, starting to feel insecure and regretting that he'd let his guard down so much. With no end to Wade's laughter in sight Logan went to stand up but was stopped as Wade leapt forward to grab onto him as he finally got under control to speak again.
"I'm-I'm sorry I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you embarrassed! Sometimes my brain just processes my emotions in ways I can't control so please don't take it the wrong way. I just got so happy and excited when I saw that snorting is part of your natural laugh. I LOVE it!"
"You're not just saying that shit?" Logan asked, still feeling unsure, though Wade looked absolutely horrified that he had even asked that.
"NO, I'm not just saying that! I'm sorry I'm an idiot and made you self-conscious about it. It's literally the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen! You believe me, right?" He looked hopefully at the other man who simply shrugged his shoulders.
"Sure. Whatever."
Logan did in fact believe him. Wade was usually pretty upfront when talking about things like this so he had no real reason to think that he was simply trying to spare his feelings.
Wade however, took his short, blunt answer as rejection as he wailed and threw his arms around Logan's waist to cling to him tightly.
"Noooo don't shut down on me! Please forgive me, Peanut! Pleeeeeease!"
Logan sighed heavily at how overdramatic Wade could be.
"Calm down, will ya? When I said 'whatever' I meant it's okay. You're fine. Now get off and stop groveling," he pried Wade's arms from around him as the merc then flopped onto his stomach, resting his chin on his hands and kicking his feet in the air.
"I'm not kidding, I could listen to your laughing snorts all day and it would never get old," he stared up at his roommate adoringly, "Sorry if I went a little overboard on you though."
"You call that a little overboard?" Logan's eyebrow crawled up his forehead as Wade's mouth dropped at the implication that he was responsible for everything.
"Hey, wait a fucking minute here, don't put this all on me. You were asking for it with all that shit you were talking, which was....well, surprising. I'd assumed you never got tickled much in your life, but you seemed pretty familiar with it," he sat up and finally retied his robe closed around him.
Logan smiled slightly as he started to wander inside his head.
"It was another lifetime ago, but yeah. My old team used to tickle me sometimes. Been so long that honestly, I was pretty nervous about you trying it."
"Ah shit, I really am an asshole," Wade felt a tang of guilt in his chest, knowing the X-men were still a very sore spot for Logan, "I didn't know. I'm sorry."
Confusion set over Logan's face.
"What for?"
"You know, for bringing up old memories you had with them. Don't worry, I won't do it again. I hope it didn't upset you too much."
Logan's puzzled expression then changed with a soft smile slowly breaking out.
"Wade ya got it all wrong. I'd have literally killed just to share in such mundane moments like that with them again. So once ya started tickling me it just, I don't know....made me think of those good times and...," he stopped as he looked away with a shake of his head, "Ah never mind, it's stupid."
"No no, it's not. Please keep going," Wade encouraged, scooting closer to indicate to Logan that he had his full attention.
"All I'm sayin' is that ya didn't upset me one bit. The opposite, in fact. That whole torture fest that you just put me through made me feel like I was with them again. I haven't felt that close to them ever since they were taken from me. And, well, what I'm trying to say is is that I felt.....happy."
Wade could feel his heart swelling up in his chest as Logan revealed all of this information to him. He instantly felt a lot better knowing that he hadn't caused his friend any mental anguish.
"That's such a big relief. You never seem to want to talk about them much, so I try to avoid making you think about them. The last thing I want to do is make you depressed."
"I know, but I've decided that's not what I should be doing. They don't deserve to not be openly remembered. Hell, I never want to forget anything about 'em."
Wade nodded in quiet understanding before Logan's eyes brightened up, reaching back into his mind.
"Kurt was the worst. He used to always get me bad. Really bad. Teleportation and a prehensile tail? It was always over for me before it even started. Heh, that fucker. Shit, even Jean and Scott would gang up on me once in a while. I tell ya, telekinesis is the ultimate cheat. And Rogue....she loved physical contact so you can guess that tickle fights were one of her favorite things. And I'd let her win once in a while....at least that's what I told myself, hmph."
Wade had never really heard Logan talk about his teammates before. It made him overjoyed to see he was starting to move forward in the right direction towards making peace with himself as Wade listened in silence to everything Logan said before finding his voice again.
"They sound like my kind of people. I think Nightcrawler and I would have made a formidable team-up against you," he playfully nudged Logan's shoulder as the X-man's smile grew from his mind manifesting an image of his old friend.
"Heh, Kurt. Yeah, he was something else. His goal was always trying to get me to snort too. He used to do those.....whaddya call that shit....raspberries. Right on my stomach. Just about damn near killed me," Logan chuckled and shook his head with a faint shiver running up his back; almost able to feel the sensation again as he thought about it.
Wade smirked as he rubbed his chin in thought like a supervillain.
"Ohhh reeeeeally....raspberries, huh? Well that sounds like it could be really fun. Remind me about it the next time I decide to tickle the shit out of you, kay?" Wade reached over and wiggled fingers into Logan's stomach, making him bust out a laugh before shoving the hand away.
"No fucking way. It's pure torture. Ya better not even think about it," he growled, but his words did not sound nearly as serious as he wanted Wade to believe. Of course, the other man picked up on that immediately but continued to play along.
"How can you expect me not to? I've never seen such ticklish abs. But okay. I'll think about not doing it, but no promises. So I suppose that means belly rubs are off the table too?"
Logan laughed again as he looked over at Wade.
"It's funny you say that because Jean and 'Ro used to give me belly rubs, thinking it would relax me, but it always just made me ticklish. I think that's partly why they liked doin' it, but regardless I never tried to stop them. Hell, sometimes I'd even ask for it. As much as it tickled it did feel pretty good."
"Well, I know I'm not nearly as hot as those X-women, but I'll always be here to give you all the belly rubs you could ever want," Wade chuckled, expecting Logan to roll his eyes and vehemently decline his offer, but instead a rare, warm smile broke onto the Wolverine's face.
"Really? You'd do that?"
"Are you kidding? Of course I would! You want one now?"
Logan shook his head as he got to his feet.
"Eh, maybe later. How about ya get your ass dressed first and we'll go out for a beer?"
Wade just stared back at him with both brows raised while he stood up as well.
"......It's 8:30 in the morning, Logan."
"Hey, breakfast beer is a thing, alright? Least it was in my universe. Kurt was always down to go with me so if ya want to.....it would mean a lot," a true, genuine smile was on Logan's face as he looked hopefully to his roommate.
Wade couldn't say no even if he actually wanted to. Logan was finally letting him into that side of his life, and he was not going to deny him. It felt like a new beginning. So he sidled up next to him and grinned broadly, putting an arm around the wide shoulders.
"Alright ya big lug, you talked me into it. Just give me a minute and then we'll go get fucked up."
"Appreciate it."
#ticklish!wolverine#ticklish!logan#ler!deadpool#ler!wade#deadpool tickle#wolverine tickle#tickle fic
21 notes
·
View notes
Note
For the things we lost au, has there ever been times where Stan tells stories to Dipper to calm him down after a traumatic experience or just before bed or just in general?
I know currently Dipper’s and Stan’s relationship hasn’t gotten to that point yet but I’m curious!
Also what other tricks besides teaching Dipper how to use a gun and stealing does Stan ingrain in Dipper? Does he teach him all the tricks he knew from his days of the street?
And since Dipper’s still growing does Stan teach Dipper how to conserve their money, how to shave, how to barter with people/ being okay with talking with crowds or how to do certain math problems (because Stan has worked on the portal for a long time you can’t tell me that he didn’t pick up some things even if begrudgingly)
Does Stan teach Dipper all of his best Uncle Jokes/funny stories, and despite saying he (Dipper) hates all of them does Dipper secretly appreciate them ever once in a while?
Does Dipper help Stan with stuff too? Like does Dipper learn to read different Alien languages just so he can help Stan read stuff or does he steal a little bit of extra food because he knows if Stan doesn’t get enough for the both of them, all that food will be put towards him sl Dipper gets more to help Stan?
I know that Dipper had helped Stan with his hearing aids but what other things does he do for Stan?
DO DIPPER AND STANLEY EVENTUALLY GET A PIRATE ADVENTURE?! Please say they get a space pirate adventure!!!
Also do both Stan and Dipper pick on some alien languages because with Stanley picking up Spanish and Dipper’s interest in learning new languages I don’t think it would be too much of a stretch for them to learn
wow, HELLO! :) you literally made my entire morning when i had to peel myself out of bed at 5am to make it to my shift, and i've been thinking about these asks like all day. thank you anon!!! thank you for giving me an opportunity to rant about this wonderful, beautiful, tragic au. i'm so glad you're enjoying it!!
first off, yes, 100%. there's actually quite a bit of that in the next chapter. as dipper's walls begin to come down and his anger toward stan slowly but surely ebbs away, so too will stan's walls. in canon, stan doesn't share really any of his childhood (at least from what we see) with the kids until atots. in ttwl, it's implied that stan tells dipper more or less the same story we got in that episode (just minus ford's perspective/part of the story), but he will be sharing a lot more of his backstory, life advice, and stories with dipper as the fic progresses. this will help dipper understand stan's motives and will help move the healing process along for them. a lot, if not most, of dipper's anger toward stan is just resentment for being left in the dark (dipper famously hates not knowing stuff). and stan wants so badly to regain dipper's trust. he also wants to protect him from the things he feels he's failed him on this summer already (read: bill). 100% we will see stan rambling about this or that or this to a traumatized and or terrified dipper just to keep him out of his own head and to reinforce in the kid's head that he has someone beside him that he can trust.
side note: stan (and ford's) struggle will be in trying to maintain the kids' childhood and trying not too force them to grow up too fast. but they aren't perfect people and the circumstances are obviously awful and not conducive to helping maintain the kids' innocence. they'll fail and fuck up and they'll get some things right, too. but i can definitely see stan trying to lighten the mood/share stories as i can see ford taking mabel on light-hearted, low stakes adventures when things with the portal become too intense and her mental health begins to fall by the wayside.
SECOND, there's so many things stan will teach dipper! but, i'm willing to bet that stan didn't exactly take the best care of himself during those years he spent on the road. so there will be a lot of things he will have to learn himself! like, where stan spent weeks and weeks skipping meals because he had to, he can't stand seeing dipper do the same. he won't allow it. he'll have to push himself even harder to make ends meet than he did during those years. he wants better for dipper.
as for the things he teaches dip, i'll just list some of them out. you'll definitely see these things play out in ttwl but this question is fun and it's a fun sneak-peak:
stealing (pickpocketing and petty theft both)
how to put on a half-way decent con (in journal 3, ford mentions having to talk his way into food and shelter, and stan and dipper will 100% have to do the same. i imagine he'll actually catch on pretty quick but he'll absolutely hate doing it.)
how to read a face (i.e. is this person full of shit. everyone knows a good con man can spot a con right back)
how to drive (later)
how to shave DEFINITELY. dipper will start growing a little stache or goatee and stan will practically shove a razor in his direction the second it starts coming in.
how to be a ladies man (they'd have their roadside attraction arc and dip would learn basically that confidence is in himself and not in stan's fake womanizing "skills")
things dipper should be learning in school. stan clearly wasn't at the top of his class but you're right in saying that he learned a lot of things when he was building the portal. and dipper's a curious kid, they'll both seek out ways to help him keep on his education in some shape or form.
life experience/advice/etc. stan has 58 some years of life under his belt and he'll share whatever wisdom he has. can't promise all of it will be good lol
there's definitely more that's slipping my mind at the moment, but yes to all of these. and yes to the horrible uncle jokes. none of that stops. and once dipper starts being able to bear him a bit more, he'll secretly love hearing them. he'll love them for the normalcy they help him feel and because if stan is able to laugh and make jokes then maybe everything will be okay. maybe it's okay for him to laugh too, even if everything is so shitty.
as for reading alien languages, there's actually some plot explanations regarding translators that will be explored next chapter. as a resident guardians of the galaxy fic writer, i know all about writing about sci-fi translators and the like. i'm keeping the same explanation for how translators work in this fic too. meaning, dipper and stan will be able to read most alien languages really soon. though, because i like the idea of stan and dipper being able to speak some of the languages they learned during their time across the portal when they get home, they'll probably still try learning some alien languages without the need for translators. i imagine they'll get home and just start speaking, i don't know, like Galactic Standard with each other and ford will pop in and chime into the conversation without missing a beat and mabel will just be standing there wide-eyed and entirely lost for words.
AND YEAH. dipper will do lots of things for stan! besides the unintentional things that dipper does that he doesn't know about — like giving stan a reason to get up in the morning and filling him with happiness and purpose — he'll do his best to reciprocate favors! like, 100% if dipper noticed stan was skipping meals so he could eat more he'd steal something on the side for stan or lie and say he isn't hungry. they'd also both do little things for each other like steal or buy little trinkets or items the other person might like. stan'll buy dipper a notebook to chronicle their adventures and dipper will steal these chocolates he knows stan likes or a funny little doodad or whatever. maybe a gun or a knife if he's feeling crazy.
dipper will also sacrifice his own sleep a lot in order to take watch. the kid's an insomniac already, and stan is older and needs more sleep to recover from brawls with giant alien creatures or running from the law, so dip will do a lot of selfless things like that for stan. both of these guys tend not to think of themselves much so they'll probably both try to sacrifice stuff equally as much. of course, stan wont really let dipper most of the time.
and, i'm not opposed to a space pirate adventure. inquiring minds want to know more.
#gravity falls#the things we lost#reverse drifting stars au#dipper pines#stan pines#mabel pines#ford pines#answering asks#asks open#anon you are amazing thank you#this is entirely stream of thought so sorry for the ramble
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
the way some ppl draw k!ng d!ce…….🥰🥰🥰🥰
#some of y’all hve him serving DUNT (dice cunt)#(im sorry)#falling in love all over again to the point where i wanna draw him again but you’ll never see me post any of it here#maybe even a little bit of……oh you know……😈/🎲#im slowly feeling more comfortable engaging with dev!ld!ce again but only in private#one particular artist’s work has been kind of healing but not gonna say who it is#advanced gatekeeping at its finest lol#also reading fics have helped a little too#frizz talks
0 notes
Note
Monster Clover, like this is so awesomecool.
They're such a little beast and it is amazing and please i need more, like written text even i just need the juicy lore and emotional moments that are circling in ur brain.
HAT: RETRIEVED!!
#undertale yellow#uty clover#flowey the flower#chara dreemurr#frisk undertale#monster clover au#my art#as for emotional moments. hang in there for another day or 2. got a big batch of comics coming 😈#if i ever made a fic for this au i would not advertise it. i got irls following me#they can look at all my cringe ass art but if they read a WORD of fic i wrote i would have to end it all. hope this helps#anyways. frisk appears!! i wont be doing too many canon ut characters in this little au but i like frisk :)#theyre also important for the next part#narrator chara makes an appearance too bc i love them#cowboy (gender neutral)#SORRY I LOVE RAMBLING IN TAGS </3 i love Talking#BUT THANK YOUU i also love my little skrungly im so glad other people like them so much too#mcau comic#mcau art
727 notes
·
View notes
Note
Me : well maybe it's not that bad?
Me : looking for radioapple art and immediately get hit with big buff Alastor and tiny shorter than in canon Lucifer, Lucifer in a dress getting fucked by Alastor, Lucifer in a dress getting fucked by big buff Alastor, Lucifer who look like 5 yo and 'suave sugar daddy' Alastor who holds him and each with thousands of likes and absolutely zero of anything else than that
Me : nope 🙃😔
Save me Vox/Al artists, save me
Man, I love Vox/Alastor art so much.
I just love the Vox/Alastor ship as a whole, be it one-sided, mutual, or anything in between, and a lot of it stems from Alastor still feeling like he's Alastor.
I mean, I think people make Alastor a little more cruel and heartless towards Vox sometimes, but overall he still feels like himself. He gets to be dangerous and manipulative and he gets to be silly and whimsical. It's perfect.
Adding a cut right here because this post got WAY longer than I anticipated ⬇️
I think with RadioApple, when it comes to Alastor, people lean too much into this:
And not enough into this:
It feels like his fun, sassy, and whimsical side gets stripped away and he's turned into a stereotypically tall, dark and menacing love interest.
Where's his flamboyancy? His razzamatazz! As Susan would say, "Where's the showmanship? Where's the pizzaz? Fucking mediocre."
If I'm reading a fic or looking at art and I can't imagine their Alastor doing one of his girly-pop wrist flicks -
- then I can't keep going. His girly-pop vibes are too important to me.
Of course, when it comes to tone in both fics and art, sometimes fun and whimsical aren't what the artist is going for. But even outside of NSFW art and stories, so often Alastor just feels...bland. He feels too stiff. Too much like a suave, old fashioned, smooth talking gentleman, and not enough like a fun, silly, and sassy little freak who loves trolling people.
And with Lucifer if feels like they lean too much into this:
And not enough of this:
I feel like any, if not all, of Lucifer's flaws are brushed aside so often and so easily.
He feels softened and watered down. Like he's either a sad & awkward UwU boi all the time, or he's the most flamboyant, seductive little minx there is. And to be fair, he is both a very sad boi and a seductive little minx.
But rarely does he ever come across as powerful to me. A lot of the time he feels too normal. Or too sad and naive. Literally, like he could be any other sinner if I didn't already know he was the kind of Hell. And that's so funny to me because we've seen him openly and extravagantly display his powers multiple times in the show--not to the extent that he did in the finale--but he was definitely flaunting all the things he could do, make, or summon for Charlie during his musical-battle with Alastor. He was 100% showing off how powerful he is.
Not only that, but, honestly, Lucifer feels too open and sincere because that man is judgmental as fuck.
Going back to the "Dad Beat Dad" episode, there are multiple examples of him being a self-righteous little shit: 1) he was incredibly critical of Charlie's hotel the moment he stepped inside, even if he tried, and failed, to cover it, 2) he didn't even try to hide his disgust for Alastor's bar, which he didn't even know was incorporated by Alastor (who he hadn't even met him yet) and could've been incorporated by Charlie or Vaggie, for all he knew, 3) he wasn't taking Charlie's hotel or her plan for redemption seriously from the start, he didn't even have his mind open to the possibility, he wasn't there to hear about her plans he was only there to see her, and 3) when the hotel was attacked by the loan sharks, instead of making them go away or preventing the hotel from being damaged - which he could have very easily done with no amount of effort - he hung back and smugly reiterated that he was right and sinners can't be redeemed and Charlie should just give up on her goals/dreams because it's just not possible so there's no point in trying.
Like, Charlie was very clearly in distress over her hotel being attacked and destroyed, but he was too busy boasting about how he'd been "proven" right to see that.
He's very easy to anger and his ego is so easily bruised. Alastor got under his skin immediately and effortlessly - though I also believe that's on part that Lucifer doesn't have a high opinions of sinners anyway - and Lucifer 100% escalated the conversation/argument he had with Alastor during their first meeting.
See the whole scene of him referring to Alastor as a "has-been" and insulting the name he'd given the hotel, especially when you take into consideration that until Alastor said that he named the hotel, Lucifer thought it was Charlie who came up with it.
And I'm not going to say that Alastor was an innocent, picked on little baby in that scene, he was 100% riling up Lucifer from the start, but also, like...Alastor's lines weren't outright antagonist like Lucifer's were. They were more subtle, slightly needling and passive aggressive, but nothing that could really be taken as a insult.
This is literally the dialogue, word for word, of their very first interaction:
Lucifer: What in the unholy Hell is that?!
Alastor: Just some of the renovations we had done. Adds a bit if color, don't you think?
Lucifer: And you are?
Alastor: Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, Sir, quite a pleasure. It's nice to finally put a face to the name. You are much shorter in real life.
Lucifer: Who is this? Who is this now - are you the bellhop?
Alastor: Ah-ha, no! I am the host of the hotel. You might've heard of me from my radio broadcast.
Lucifer: Hmm, nope! I guess that's why Charlie called it the "has-been" hotel, hahaha!"
Alastor: Ha ha ha, it was actually my idea.
Lucifer: Ha ha, well it's not very clever.
Alastor: Ha ha, fuck you.
Like. That's their first interaction. And if you go back and actually pay attention to facial expressions and body languages, this was the first time he's seen Alastor, and Lucifer was immediately disdainful.
I went back and screenshotted Lucifer's face, right after Alastor's first line (which was a relatively innocent in and of itself and didn't even sound that antagonist), and:
That's a lot of disesteem for someone he literally just met. At most, you could argue that it was Alastor's smirk or tone that set him off ⬇️:
But even that is such a small thing to get upset over.
I'd say the only time Alastor really started getting openly hostile towards Lucifer was when he wiped his hand after shaking Lucifer's cane (which Lucifer didn't even see as he was too busy fixing his hat) and commenting on Lucifer's height (as a shortie myself, can confirm, that'll get on the nerves very fast).
My point is, Lucifer was immediately unfriendly towards Alastor and escalated the situation just as quickly, if not quicker, than Alastor did. Alastor implied that Lucifer might know of his radio broadcast, and Lucifer jumped right to calling him a "has-been." He doesn't even know him. This is their very first meeting. He was judgy and dismissive of Alastor at first sight, and, let's be honest, he kind of threw the first punch with that "has-been" line. Alastor said Lucifer was shorter than expected, but it's not like he laughed, pointed at him and called him a undercooked little chicken nugget. I'm sure a lot of demons/sinners who've never seen Lucifer would also assume he would be taller and more menacing at first glance, and I doubt this is the first time someone was surprised with his height (still not cool, Alastor. We vertically challenged folk have feelings too).
But Lucifer was prejudice from the start and antagonized Alastor just as quickly, and way more openly, than Alastor did to him. And don't get me wrong, this isn't me saying that's a bad thing on Lucifer's part! This isn't me criticizing or scorning him for it. I think it speaks so much of him as a character!
Cause we've seen the soft and tender moments he has with Charlie. We know how much he loves and cares for her. But he's also egotistical, antagonistic, and judgmental as hell, and that's what makes him such a fun character to write about. He's awkward yet showy, smug yet caring, depressed yet prideful. And by god, this man will show off his power without hesitation. He knows he's hot shit. He knows he's the strongest person in all of Hell. He knows he's the top dog and he can do whatever he wants - even if he has no love or interest in interacting within the Pride Ring (as far as we've been shown).
He's got a lot of multi-facets to him and I adore it, and that's why I get so annoyed when all of that is stripped away and he's turned into this soft little sunshine UwU boi who's just a sad, sweet lil lamb who's done no wrong.
No! He has done many wrongs! There's a reason he and Charlie were estranged and I don't think it was Lilith's fault - or, at least, I don't think it was all her fault (I have many thoughts about Lucifer and Lilith's divorce, okay)
I didn't mean for this to turn into a full-blown character analysist post LOL but alas I tend to get carried away. This was all to say, I really enjoy RadioStatic because Alastor typically gets to keep his sadistic and whimsical side, and I appreciate that. His silliness means a lot a to me, and if he comes off as too stiff or formal, it takes me out of a story.
Lucifer's flaws and sheer power also mean a lot to me, and I wish there were more fics and fan-art that showed that. If Lucifer reads too much like a normal, every-day person, I lose interest. I like the idea of people getting used to him, and getting comfortable around his presence, only to get a sudden and overwhelming reminder that he is, in fact, an ancient and immortal being with immense power that their brains wouldn't even be able to comprehend.
I have so many headcanons about Lucifer as a fallen angel and how his habits and lifestyle developed over the thousands upon thousands of years he's been in Hell. Habits he's adopted that unconsciously help him duplicate the mannerisms and behavior of sinners and demons, but also those small, indistinct tells that are quick and subtle reminder that he could destroy everyone in Pentagram City with ease if he decided to; and also, those times if you were to look closely and really pay attention, you get the faint, unsettling feeling that there is something very un-human about him. A subtle, unnerving shiver down your spine as your instincts yell at you that this person is not a person at all, he's just passing off as one.
That shit gets me. Give me ancient, eldritch Lucifer and I'll love you forever.
I am sorry Anon, I did not mean for this response to get so big 😅 You gave me a paragraph and I gave you a novel. But yeah, save me RadioStatic artists, save me 🙏 I rarely have to worry about Alastor turning into a big, buff alpha man or a soft little UwU when he's with Vox, and I appreciate that.
Edit: Adding a screenshot of my tags here because apparently I wrote down too many and it cut off the character tags.
#PHEW#this got way longer than it was supposed to be#also I found out you can only have 30 images max on a post#I had so many more gifs and screenshots to share#but I had to curate them#but yeah#Lucifer's watered down to UwU baby lamb or seductive flamboyant minx#and Alastor is just a big buff alpha male daddy love interest or he's too much of a formal prim and proper cannibal gentleman#you give him back his goddamn wrist flicks OR SO HELP ME#if I read a fic and I can't imagine Alastor doing a sassy little hand gesture then I hightail it out of there#i can't force myself to keep reading#it bothers me too much#it gets messy#and awkward#and weird#its not like your playing with their feelings#anyway#hazbin hotel#alastor#asks#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor the radio demon#vox x alastor#lucifer morningstar#hazbin lucifer#appleradio#radioapple#radiostatic#staticradio
162 notes
·
View notes
Text
one thing about me is that if im writing an avatar (2009) fic, the earth is not dying. im so sorry it's my least favorite plot point in the movies. why did cameron write that in????
#i hate it soooo much!!!#by making the earth beyond saving he gives legitimacy to humans and their colonization of pandora!!!!#it's like 'oh our planet is dying! we just /have/ to take all your resources'#and it's like ???? yeah ig????? but not really!!!#anyway in my fics earth is like how it is rn#yeah it's dying but we can still save it. but the greedy government wants to exploit pandora instead#and to me that makes a more interesting story bc now their can be fighters on earth's side#free pandora protests. activists halting supplies to pandora. there's literally so much there#and i am always a little critical of stories that portray humanity as evil terrible creatures.#like u mean to tell me the lady who gave me free donuts when i was crying on bus was evil and terrible????#and the teenage boy who helps carry an old lady's groceries to her car is evil and terrible???#and like think about in terms of jakes kids and spider#there's so many human things they've never done!!! spider's never gone ice skating before#they've never sat around a table in the cafeteria and started up an impromptu rap session#they've never skateboarded!! they've never seen the mountains of china or the niagara falls#by making humanity this uncaring and unfeeling all-evil thing you set it up so that#the kids and spider can never truly interact with their humaness!! they can never accept themselves!!!#do you see my point???#im gonna tag the kids bc i was thinking about yhem the whole time while writing this post#lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan#kiri te suli kìreysì'ite#neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan#tuktirey te suli neytiri'ite#spider socorro#avatar 2009#atwow#also tell me if im being insane/reading into this too deeply
20 notes
·
View notes
Note
transfem scott getting lots of support from ramona and kim in the early 2000's when shit's very taboo but they all 3 have a fire forged bond and lord if they aren't going to make sure they're all as happy as they can be because they've come this far and I dunno it just makes me happy all three of them
YES YES YES
It makes me very happy as well,,
Like I've said before. General Trans Scott enthusiast here- I love the idea of their little support network *violent coughing* I (we?) mean polycule *violent coughing* so fucking much.
Ramona I think has a bit of a more gentle hand with reassuring Scott with gender issues, but sometimes she just can't help herself from some pointed banter or teasing- how could you with someone so dense? (Said w affection)
And then Kim I think is more blunt. But like, in a good way mostly, you know? The kinda blunt that makes you snap to attention and go "Oh. Yeah that was silly of me." And if Ramona's started some sort of banter? Kim is SO piling on. Maybe sometimes she's a bit TOO blunt with it- but it's only because she's so firm in her support. She wants Scott to Get It Together- and be happier for it. So if some ribbing now and again is in order, then goddamnit she will do so! Anything to crack that shell.
And ohhh can you imagine how they would react to some transphobic bullshit?? Unholy terror would be driven into the offender before they walk off with an absurd amount of coins between them. I can feel it in my bones. Scott doesn't even have to lift a finger (if the transphobe is even noticed/processed at all, bc I honestly can see Scott just. Not realizing someone's being transphobic.) Kim giving someone a lashing with her tongue as distraction and then Ramona coming in with the hammer- BAM! Free Money! Paying literally with your life for your transphobia. A Better And Just World.
And of course (transfem Scott more specifically, here,) the way Scott would start to flourish under their support... cagey and maybe a little (perhaps a lot-) resistant to start- but Kim's blunt affirmations and no nonsense attitude for bullshit (which is what Scott insisting on "being cis" would be, c'mon now,) and Ramona's also low bullshit tolerance but less Stabby (bc I won't lie, that's probably how Kim's comments would feel,) assurances? Ough... My Heart... Be Still-
I would Kill for them, Your Honor-
(Ran out of tags so putting this in the body of the post- I am SO tired someone pls sound off if this isn't as coherent as I am hoping this is. I WAS trying to nap and get the extra sleep I desperately needed but the writing bug... it Bit Me.... only a little but enough to stop that process-)
#for my trans masc scott hcs I am actually so seriously and deeply fond of Kim having been SO supportive of Scott in HS. It's so important +#+to me. it also makes their whole relationship sting a little more but ohhh man. I can just see Kim hyping him up and helping him get more+#+comfortable in his skin. Lisa would definitely help there too imo but just. ahhhhhgshcksjdhg#i need to put some transmasc scott hs stuff on my fic docket. but I have so many wips rn x~x pray for me chat#(literally stopped writing something to answer this dhdjshdjdgw I Am Part Of The Problem-)#as always to people looking for transfem scott stuff I point you towards Scott Pilgrim's Precious Little Egg on AO3- as well as Amy +#+Pilgrim's Precious Little Life (also AO3)#the second has 2 chapters out currently but I believe the 3rd is definitely underway! and then the first has 22 chapters out currently and#+I believe part 3 has just kicked off w that latest one#you've seen some of the authors here before I'm like 99% certain- even if you may not have realized it lol#headcanons#scott pilgrim headcanons#sp comic#spto#spvtw#ramona flowers#kim pine#scott pilgrim#sckimona#(not putting it into ship stuff but like. Definitely what was on the mind)#trans headcanon#trans scott pilgrim#ooc#asks#anon#gmorning all btw. i am still So Tired. I'm gonna try and maybe make more icons today if anyone has any requests? or otherwise I do have +#+some shippy stuff I need to get done. ninjastar edits. vague lukim thing potentially. kinda wanna draw more furry kimona--#i could do furry sckimona..... h m m m m.....#we'll see what happens! admittedly i do also have some Gaming Plans later today and I am helpless but to allow the monopolization of my tim#(fellow lesbians out there will Understand /hj) (if the person i would prefer to have not read that read that Politely Ignore pls-)
39 notes
·
View notes