#and having him around makes things funnier by the second

[astrologysaysno]

You know what would be really fun to do, an AU where for some reason the PIDW world is randomly breaking into song and everyone is conscious of that fact but no one knows how it started or how to stop it.

Like, it's just been a thing in this world. Everyone is just in this state of living through a self-aware version of Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist.

I think what would make it even funnier is that when Shang Qinghua arrived at CQMS, the music suddenly switched up on everyone in the sect.

For like, centuries, the music people sang were of traditional tales and epics likening their plight to them, they would take poems and proses and accompany them to a backing that would usually materialize for the occasion.

Now suddenly there's like this great expansion of musical styles and genres and it has people in a buzz, wondering if this this was a natural evolution of the strange music mandate overarching the world or was this the fault of some great manipulator pulling the shots and deciding to add new material because they got bored listening to people sing the same epic tale for the millionth time.

(The true origin of this is that Airplane in his last life had a personal playlist made that he listens to whenever he wanted to write PIDW and now it has come back to haunt him cause HE RECOGNIZES THESE SONGS)

One of these instances first occurred with Shen Qingqiu (Jiu) and Luo Qingge, with Shang Qinghua as an unfortunate witness as it began a while after that awful mission that expanded the rift of misunderstanding.

Instead of some traditional oration of a story about rivalry, something new began to emerge.

It only takes the first few lines before SQH almost has his eyes pop out in shock when he realizes what was happening

... IS THIS WICKED?!?!

Shang Qinghua watches as the two perform a duet, the younger disciples of Bai Zhan acting as an ensemble as everything played out. LQG and SJ sang as they ran into the mess hall, everyone in perfect harmony raising eyebrows to every witness who hadn't been dragged into the number as an ensemble voice.

The moment the song ended, the two are immediately called by the Peak Lords of the Previous generation, dragging along Qinghua as they are interrogated about this new change in the musical paradigm.

The new mixes in with the old. Though the usual forms of song still occur, every once in a while, the new music appears to change the pace, attracting people with its unusual and exotic melodies.

Qinghua isn't immune to this phenomena.

Throughout his days when he became head disciple and then Peak Lord, he had never broken into song once, something that very much confused his fellows peers, who have at some point in their life belted a number or two. Shen Jiu and Liu Qingge had already over a dozen of solos each.

Shang Qinghua chalked it up to the fact that the universe probably decided he wasn't worth wasting a beat on and lived in second-hand embarrassment watching his fellow peak Lords air out their feelings in song.

But the day finally came when a song spewed forth from his lips...

...running away from Mobei-Jun

After the ceremony and the fight with Linguang-Jun, Mobei thought to leave a trap to his uncle, setting something on the steps to slow his uncle down.

Unfortunately for Airplane, he gets stuck on the trap as he runs away, Mobei-jun on his heels as the last of his strength is used to chase Qinghua.

The moment Qinghua turned around, time froze. Mobei-jun finds himself immobilised as Qinghua began to sing, his body frozen in time as his advisor belted and fluttered his voice, singing about choices.

The song ends, Mobei-Jun finally giving out as Qinghua runs away. Mobei-jun doesn't forget the song, and he understands what he must do.

[I have had "What is this Feeling" from Wicked and "On the Steps of the Palace" from Into The Woods on loop in my phone going platinum in my bedroom.

I made this entire thing from my delusions so uh, bon appetit I guess?]

[ceo-of-sloppy-women]

No grave can hold my body down; I'll crawl home to her

chapter 5

Chapter 6

There are tables everywhere – not that it surprises you, this is a bar, after all. But they look new, untouched by the apocalypse. Someone built these recently. They’re quality, too, at least from the brief glance you manage at them. You wonder if the artisan is still around (and if they could make Sevika a dining table). Sitting amongst the tables, at the far end of the room, is a large and spacious bar with several stools in front of it. The place looks relatively deserted, apart from the blue-haired woman with her head thrown back in cackling laughter at a joke apparently cracked by the white-haired man next to her. Judging by the look on his face, the joke was far funnier than he intended it to be (if it was a joke at all). You know these two: Jinx and Ekko – they had been part of Sevika’s group on the way back. You’re about to open your mouth and call out to them when the door slams shut behind you. Jinx spins around instantly, grinning when she realizes it’s you.

“There she is, the lady of the hour!” Jinx cheers, rushing up to you and peeking her head out from behind the books. “How’s Sevika, did she –“ she switches to the other side, miming the glugging of a bottle – “Or, did big’an’scary keep her act together for the pretty lady?”

“Let me take those,” Vander says, picking up the stack from your arms with ease. You hadn’t even seen him polishing tables to your right.

“Sevika was… nice. We had a little mead, talked about some things, and I finally had a proper shower since this whole shit show started,” you inform Jinx, who giggles in delight.

“Did she mention her bees? Did she?!” Jinx has a manic smile on her face, clapping her hands when you nod. “Wonderful! You know, she and Grayson worked on their hives for ages. Had to get them just right – Sevika kept complaining the bees didn’t like them, so they weren’t producing as much honey. Turns out, she was kind of right – I mean they do produce more honey nowadays, so she’s gotta have been right.”

“Who’s Grayson?” you ask, following Jinx as she weaves through tables back to the bar.

Jinx spins on her heel and gapes at you for a moment: “Grayson! You know – organizer of patrols and all things safety. Spends her time making chairs, tables, fences and anything else wooden that needs doing. She helped us raise the barn! Any of this ringing a bell? Anything??”

“It’s all new to me. Sevika didn’t really mention much about how things function around here, or specifics about the bees. She did promise to show me them later.”

Jinx snorts a little. “Didn’t do much talking with broodin’ and beautiful, eh? Got too distracted by –“ she puts her fingers together, miming scissoring. You flush bright red.

“JINX! Stop distracting our new friend. She has enough on her plate, and you have a job to do today!” Silco calls from the landing of the staircase, hands on his hips.

“Sorry,” Jinx sing songs, downing her drink from the bar in one gulp. “We’ll go, we’ll go. Ekko’s got a new house for me to blow up anyway!”

You grab her arm as she’s passing by you: “We didn’t. Sevika and I are just… friends.”

“Whatever you say, toots! You can’t fool me, though – she doesn’t let just anyone stay with her. Or bring her to heel like that,” Jinx giggles, shrugging off your hand easily. She throws her arm over Ekko and grins at him: “Now, what do you say? Wanna to see how much I can explode today?”

Ekko rolls his eyes with a playful smile, allowing her to lead him out the door: “You know that’s not what we’re doing.”

“Can’t a lady have a little fun?” Jinx whines as Ekko pushes the door open and leaves you standing in the bar.

“Come on, Silco’s going to get his panties in a knot if we make him wait any longer,” Vander jokes next to you, nudging you with his elbow.

“I can take some books if you want, I know it’s a lot to carry,” you offer, following after him toward the second floor of the bar.

“I’ve got it,” he simply says, leading you upstairs.

Silco has already left the landing. You find him in his office, sitting behind a large desk in a refurbished chair with a back far too high to be anything less than extravagant. Dirty, stained windows sit behind him, giving just the barest glimpse out into the streets. Vander sets the books down on the coffee table, and Silco huffs, getting up and walking around his desk to take a seat on one of the couches instead. You sit on the couch opposite to the two of them, picking up your book off the top of the pile and placing it carefully on the coffee table. The table looks to be new – a lot of the furniture in the room does, especially the bookshelves lining the walls.

“Is this Grayson’s work as well?” you ask, breaking the silence as Silco lights a cigar.

“Yes, she was a former enforcer in Piltover – used to be stationed in the neighbourhood of our original bar. It wasn’t the safest area, so she was constantly in and out of our doors, usually helping people who needed a place to sleep at night or a hot meal. We took a lot of them in. She���d bring them, stay for a drink, get to know who she was helping. When the world went to shit, she was working – helped us get out of the city with as many people as we could manage… then she helped us go back in for those we left behind,” Vander explains, a sad smile creeping across his face at the memories.

“She sounds lovely,” you say softly. Enforcers aren’t always known for being nice, especially not where you’re from.

“Oh, don’t let him paint her with rose-coloured glasses,” Silco scoffs, smoke drifting away from his lips. “She was still an enforcer. We saw her shoot an unfair amount of people, raid buildings, enable other officers – all the same shit pigs get up to. She was corrupt through and through.”

“She’s different now, though. I think the apocalypse humanized her, made her care for people – or see we’re all really equal. Not just those who can take people in and those who need to be taken in,” Vander cuts in, trying to pad out Silco’s cynicism.

Silco shrugs a little, blowing out smoke: “Apocalypse did that to all of us. Some more so than others. Now we’ve got a former enforcer making us furniture and organizing patrol routes. But that’s not what we’re here to talk about.”

“Right, sorry, just wanted to get a better grip on… everything. Zaun is a little daunting – I haven’t been around people in a long time, and to suddenly be around so many makes me uncomfortable. I mean, you guys are the first settlement that didn’t turn me away at the door – not that I tried to join many, people just like to flat-out tell you the moment you walk into the trading post where you stand and where you don’t,” you confess, ducking your head a little as you flip the pages to the table of contents.

“We will happily answer any questions for you after we finish this meeting. Or, you can ask Sevika, I’m sure she’d be happy to fill you in,” Vander offers, staring down at the upside-down table of contents. “Now, Jinx mentioned something about a windmill?”

“Oh! Right, yes – I’ve got all sorts of stuff in here, windmill included. There’s also generators, musical instruments, and penicillin. You name it, I might have it.”

“It certainly seems so,” Silco mumbles, squinting at the book as he leans closer to read it. “Let’s start with a windmill – we only have so much flour, and what we have made by ourselves has been…”

“Gritty. The bread has been foul,” Vander shudders a little, pulling a face.

“Yeah, I get that. I would probably kill for a proper loaf of bread at this point,” you agree, flipping to the windmill page.

“I’d like to copy down the medical section for our doctor, though. Singed would be quite appreciative. While he is adept, he is not trained for the apocalypse. Many of his methods have been… touch and go.”

“I can understand that; I wasn’t trained for an apocalypse either. Hell, I have a philosophy degree! The most I was trained for was an archival position before the world went to shit – which is not exactly helpful during an apocalypse. I just kind of survived on my wits, and the random courses I took during university,” you chuckle, drumming your fingers on the book pages.

“We weren’t prepared for it either. No one was,” Vander says, scratching his chin. “Let’s copy down these instructions so we can give them to the construction team. Then, we’ll need to plan out an area for our new windmill!”

“While we’re copying down instructions, perhaps it would be wise to pick out several new projects?” Silco suggests, flipping back to the table of contents.

“Sounds good to me, as long as you have the paper for it,” you agree, flipping to the generator. “How about this?”

“We have been running out of gasoline,” Vander comments, staring over Silco’s shoulder.

“And there is a nearby river that the hydroelectric power plant runs off already,” Silco hums in agreement, nodding his head. “We can probably establish a few generators in the stronger run-off streams.”

The rest of the day is filled with the three of you pouring over the book, writing down instructions for new projects that can be worked on simultaneously. In the end, they wind up with instructions for various quality-of-life improvements that could aid the entire settlement. By the end, your hand is aching from transposing every little detail, cramping up around your pen in protest. Thankfully, Silco and Vander seem impressed, offering you a glass of brandy to celebrate the success of the meeting.

You’re about to put the book away when Vander squints at one of the subsections. With a thoughtful look on his face, he flips to it, nodding along as he reads. You glance over at the page he’s reading: a printing press. It would be helpful for the settlement, especially to educate the general public and any passing traders. Books were incredibly hard to come by these days. Silco seems to pay Vander little mind until he shoots up with a grin.

“We need this too!” he announces proudly as if he’s struck gold.

“Oh?” Silco leans over to read the page. “Ah, a printing press. You’re quite right, honey –“ he kisses Vander on the cheek – “But who could we get to even run such a thing? Everyone already has their jobs. I doubt anyone would take this on.”

“I could do it,” you offer before you can help yourself. You know he’s just trying to coax you into volunteering, but running a printing press sounded fun!

“You would?” Silco cocks an eyebrow and takes a slow sip of his brandy, as if assessing you. You sit up a bit straighter. “Well Vander, I think we have found our Archivist. That is if you’re really up for the challenge. You will need to make a lot of books, everything from cookbooks to survival skills to novels. And, you will need to make your own paper – I’m sure you’re aware that paper is quite a rare commodity nowadays. Are you sure you can handle that?”

“I can! I promise!” You’re giddy with anticipation, grinning ear from ear as Vander nudges the book toward you.

“Well, write it down. Then you can take it to Grayson and ask her to build it for you. Don’t worry, we’ll pay for it – you can pay us back later once you’ve sold your first few books.”

“Really? You mean it?” you clutch your pen, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Of course, although this will mean you will have to put up with Sevika for longer than expected. Your printing office will take priority over a house,” Silco states, swirling his brandy contemplatively.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I don’t mind. Sevika is… kinda nice. Last night was the safest I have felt in a long time,” you confess, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly.

Silco arches an eyebrow at you, burying a sly grin in the rim of his glass.

“I’m sure she’ll have no complaints either. You’re the first person she’s willingly let into her house,” Vander comments, leaning back on the couch.

“I thought Jinx stayed with her a few times?”

“Oh, she did, but that was never willingly on Sevika’s part,” Vander chuckles, shaking his head. “Jinx does what she wants; no one can stop her. Unfortunately for Sevika, Jinx has grown quite attached to her.”

“Unfortunately? Jinx doesn’t seem so bad that it would be unfortunate,” you press, taking a sip of your drink.

“Ah, so you don’t know about –“ Vander starts to say.

“You should get copying – daylight’s burning, and Grayson likes to close up shop early,” Silco interjects, eliminating the conversation as he presses Vander’s glass into the other man’s hands.   

You want to ask – to press Vander further on the information, but the tight-lipped, awkward look he now sports deters you. Whatever he was about to say is probably best to hear from Sevika herself. From what you’ve seen, Sevika had never been outwardly uncomfortable with Jinx, nor had she spoken ill of her. Not that she’s outwardly friendly with her, either. Yet, Jinx’s comment about Sevika’s arm rings in your ears: “Clean off.” You’d seen Sevika’s arm; it hadn’t looked blown off… it looked cut.

What weren’t they telling you? And why was it so important everyone dodged the topic as if it would burn them?

You copy the instructions for the printing press quickly; there are some supplies you’re not sure that the settlement has. Someone’s going to have to make a supply run at some point. Perhaps you can convince them to take you along, that way, you can grab exactly what you need. Maybe even some old books you can reprint – novels that people could enjoy. Maybe there are even some authors in the settlement willing to publish their work…

“Finished,” you state, closing the book.

“Excellent. Vander will escort you to Grayson, since you don’t know your way around yet. This will most likely take some time to assemble. In the meantime, you will be assigned various tasks around the settlement – everyone carries their own weight. I hear from Vander you held your own against infected?”

“More or less. Sevika saved me from a horde of them in a supermarket, but I can take one or two on my own without much struggle.”

Silco nods his head and finishes his drink: “For now, then, stick with Sevika. She’s been in need of a patrol partner for quite some time – her last one met an unfortunate demise to a belcher. I hope that’s not too much to ask?”

You grimace. Belchers are a fourth-stage infected: eventually, your insides rot away and turn to sludge, which is expelled from your body in a disgusting substance. Make the mistake of swallowing any (or getting it on an open wound), and you’ll find yourself infected as assuredly as a bite. Unfortunately, given the acidic nature of the belcher’s “contents,” it burns away at the body as well, making the infection process painful and grotesque. On the plus side, infected Belcher victims are often easier to kill due to their weakened state.

“I’m happy to tag along with her.”

“Perfect. Well then, get going, daylight is waning,” Silco announces, standing from his seat and ushering you up as well.

“Right, of course – thank you. For all of this. This is a wonderful opportunity, and I won’t let you down; I promise!”

Vander chuckles and ruffles your hair: “Relax, we’re not going to throw you out on your ass. Sevika would have a fit – and even if she wouldn’t, you’re one of us now. Get used to it.”

“Thank you,” you mumble again, ducking your head with a shy smile.

“Of course, we protect our own. Leave your book here, though. We aren’t taking it, but it will be safer in the Last Drop than stashed in Sevika’s home. If anyone comes looking for it, at least it won’t put the two of you at risk. Though the journals…” Silco trails off, eyeing the stack of journals.

“They’re for Singed! You mentioned how he enjoyed the spare notes I had – well these ones are copies of my observations on the infected. I tried to record them in case… actually, I’m not quite sure I have an exact reason. It just felt wrong not to record any information I could about them, in case someone was developing a cure.”

“Well, you’re in luck! Singed is working on a cure, and he will find these incredibly helpful. He was a scientist before everything went down the drain,” Silco informs you, picking up the first one and flipping through it. “Pictures too… good.”

“I’m glad I can help – hopefully, there’s something in there that can help with a cure. It… kinda feels weird to know someone so close by is working on a cure. Let alone that my journals could even possibly be helpful. A cure always felt like a fever dream…”

“With any luck, that dream will become reality soon enough,” Silco says, shutting the book. “Now, you should hurry over to Grayson’s. I’ve got work to do now – this settlement doesn’t organize itself.”

“Of course, thank you for this, again. It’s really something special. Good luck with your work, and thank you for the printing press. I’m saying thank you too many times! Okay, uh, yeah, I’m going to go before I say it again,” you chuckle nervously and head for the door, printing press instructions clutched in your hand.

“Take care!” Silco calls after you as he takes a seat at his desk.

Vander follows you out of the office and into the street. The bar is full of patrons now, bustling with life and laughter. You stick close to Vander, all but taking his hand in the vain effort to keep yourself calm. Adjusting to the influx of people seems to be a far more daunting task than you had initially hoped. Thankfully, Vander makes polite conversation about your life before the apocalypse as he leads you to Grayson’s, distracting you from the chaos. It helps you adjust to the expanding crowd – while the day has gone on, the breakfast rush has turned into the afternoon rush as people bustle from one building to the next. There’s even a diner a little way down the street opening its doors for customers, and a few food stands that overwhelm your senses with smells you haven’t even dared dream of for years. Your mouth waters a little, but you keep it to yourself, not wanting to put Vander out because you definitely don’t have any money on you. Instead, you follow him a few buildings down to a small storefront. The windows have been scrubbed free of dirt, with a freshly painted sign adorning them: Grayson’s Handcrafted Furniture.

Vander holds the door open for you, a tiny bell ringing. You step inside, ducking under his arm, and take in the storefront. The room is full of tables, chairs, shelves, dressers, cabinets – anything that could possibly be made out of wood is laid out on the shop floor. In the back, an older woman with a strong jaw, sharp cheekbones and a quirked eyebrow observes the two of you curiously. You swallow thickly – she’s undeniably beautiful, even as she fixes you with an almost scrutinizing gaze.

“Vander, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Grayson asks as Vander leads you over to the counter.

“This one here has a special commission to place. We need you to build a printing press for Zaun,” Vander informs her, patting your shoulder.

“A printing press? I wasn’t aware we had anyone who knew how to make those,” Grayson says, dragging her eyes up and down you in a slow, deliberate assessment. “Does this have something to do with the new woman I’ve been hearing about? The one that Sevika brought back with her, that is.”

“That would be me!” You speak up, informing her of your name.

“Ah, it’s nice to finally put a face to the rumours,” Grayson hums, holding you captive with stern yet delicate eye contact. “So… tell me about this printing press you need from me.”

“I have the instructions to build one here –“ you place them on the counter – “Silco and Vander mentioned you were the best furniture artisan in town. I was hoping to commission your services.”

Grayson hums, looking over the copied notes: “Always the flatterer, that one… This seems reasonable enough. I can have this done for you in a few weeks. Acquiring specific parts will be difficult, and there are some that I will need Jayce to make for me.”

“What kind of price am I looking at?” you ask as Vander leans against the counter, lighting a pipe.

“Considering this is for the benefit of the settlement…” Grayson holds her chin and stares at the page for a long moment, then back at you, making you squirm under her hard gaze before making a satisfied hum: “It’s free of charge.”

You gawk at her, unable to find the words. Sevika letting you stay at her place was one thing, but you could see the price tags on the pieces around you. They went for hefty sums – no doubt a commission would cost far more! Yet she’s willing to do this one for free?!

“Grayson, we can –“ Vander starts, whipping around in shock.

She holds up a hand and smiles: “I know you have the money, but it’s not necessary. I make enough from furniture that I can take on a few commissions for free. On one condition…”

“What is it?” you pipe up, snapping out of your speechless state.

“You print a few trashy romance novels. The world has finally slowed to a crawl to let me read more, and I find myself without anything to read,” Grayson sighs as if this is a deep, troubling concern of hers. She rubs the bridge of her nose before continuing: “They do not have to be very long or fancy, but I have a few that I can’t even open without the pages crumbling on me. If you promise to reprint them, I will consider this a fair trade.”

“I can absolutely do that,” you agree quickly, beaming at her. “I used to be an archivist; I know a thing or two about handling books delicately. Besides, there’s nothing better than a trashy romance novel once in a while.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” Grayson says, picking up a stamp from the organizer next to her. She presses it against a blank portion of the paper, leaving behind a mark that reads ‘accepted.’ “Your printing press will be ready in a few weeks. Where should I send the notification of completion to?”

“Uh, Sevika’s residence. The printing shop is taking priority over finding me a house,” you answer, trying to play it off as if it’s nothing.

However, Grayson quirks an eyebrow up, regarding you more closely. She opens her mouth to speak when the door to the shop swings open and cuts her off. You turn around to see Sevika standing there, looking equal bits, annoyed and relieved. She sighs, placing her hand on her hip.

“There you are! Next time, leave a message at the bar before running off,” Sevika grumbles, not quite meeting your gaze. She shifts awkwardly, something clearly on the tip of her tongue she was refusing to speak.

“Sorry, I thought we’d be done before you and I could get back to the bar in time,” you admit, crossing the room to stand in front of her. “I didn’t mean to worry you… but I’m grateful that you did worry.”

“Yeah, yeah, suck up all you’d like. Still annoyed with you,” Sevika huffs, glaring down at you.

“Why don’t you two go get something to eat, I’ll finish up here?” Vander suggests from the counter, taking a puff of his pipe.

“We’re done here anyway – Vander and I just have a few things to discuss about other commissions,” Grayson adds, levelling her gaze to yours. “Feel free to say hello if you see me around Zaun, darling.”

“I – uh – will do – thank you for your generosity,” you squeak, blush creeping up on your cheeks.

“Come on, I’m hungry,” Sevika growls, grabbing your arm and dragging you out the door. You allow yourself to be dragged out, waving at Vander and Grayson politely as you rush to keep up with Sevika’s hurried footfalls.

[shinkai-kaiju]

this game's flags are held together with fuckin hot glue and a dream is2g

[egophiliac]

Hello ! I positively adore the running joke of Idia unknowingly finding Lilia to be the coolest guy ever whenever he doesn't know it's him, like when Silver described his father, or obviously with muscle red. I can't say what'd be funnier, Idia finding out his online best friend is actually Lilia, resident spooky hyper fairy; or them both never finding out, and it'd become even more ridiculous as time goes on. How do you think it'll play out ? You're always so on point

(Also, though it makes sense, I'm still devastated bat boy didn't get a ticket for the Halloween skeleton train : ( does anyone mentions him at some point ? Like how he'd have fit right in with all those Halloween town little freaks, and how he'd have impressed them with his spooks and scared techniques; after all he's been every Briar Valley's children worst fear on Halloween for centuries. I'm on the eng server and I didn't wanna spoil myself by watching the whole thing on youtube)

Have a nice day !

you and me both, Idia and Lilia being oblivious online BFFs (+ Idia being incredibly intimidated any time Silver brings up his jock gamer dad) is my favorite running joke/subplot. 🤝 it's SO good, to the point where I also am unsure if I actually want it to ever be resolved or not...maybe, like, as a post-canon stinger or something? everyone's standing around covered in overblot ink, and Idia and Lilia's phones go off at the same time...

(legit I do think this is part of why Idia couldn't be present for Lilia's dream, because for some reason Lilia decided he was going to just. embody his past self online. he probably quotes his own battle strategies or whatever in the middle of boss fights. Idia didn't pick up on the whole "oh how weird that we both live on a super remote island" thing, but he would spend thirty seconds listening to General Lilia describing siege warfare and be like "w-wait")

all that aside, however it does end up happening, I do see Lilia being very blasé and all "oh! cool!" about it. y'know, taking it very much in stride! and Idia...very much not.

(can't tell if tumblr is going to chew this into illegibility or not, this will be a fun surprise ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ)

as for Lilia sadly missing out on Halloweentown shenanigans...he does get one little mention as part of an offhand reference to the light music club, but so far no one has brought up how this basically is just Lost In the Book of Liliatown (Sebek's been too busy yelling about not getting to be in the same group as Malleus). 😔 honestly though, it's probably for the best that he got left out, because he would just settle right in and refuse to ever leave. canon would shatter. we would miss out on all the delightful angst of episode 7 because Lilia is too busy eating poisonous shrubbery inbetween practicing his very best screams, and no one can pull him away from it.

(I can hope for a sequel next year though...)

[teddybeartoji]

sukuna fucking HATES cold water.

the sound he makes when the freezing waves bite at his ankles resembles a loud bark, his eyes bulging out of his head as he glares at you. his nostrils flare and you know he wants to bite at you for making him do this but the words get stuck in his throat when another miniscule wave comes crashing in.

and what makes the whole thing even funnier is that he can't get to you.

you're deeper in, far enough that he can't get a hold of you – he can't pinch your sides or throw you over his shoulder as a kind of punishment and he is fuming.

the fact that he is butt ass naked isn't helping him either.

his fingers curl up into a fist by his side while the other shields his beloved, shrinking, manhood and your cheeks hurt from laughing. tears brim at your lashline at the sight of him so riled up just because the water tempeture is lower than he'd like.

he screws his eyes shut when a wave bigger than the last comes in, his whole body wincing almost violently as he tries to even out his breathing.

a burst of laughter spills from your pretty lips. "aw, i didn't realize you were that big of a pussy, ryo."

...

his eyes snap open and the look he gives you sends a surge of excitement through you. suppressing a nervous smile, you bite down into your lip and sink deeper into the freezing water in order to try and escape the beast you've just unleashed.

in a fraction of a second, sukuna forgets all about the cold water he so despises and lets his hands fall by his sides and straightens his back so he's standing in front of you in all of his glory. he cocks his head to the side and clicks his tongue, a fire burning in his eyes as he takes a step toward you.

"what did you say?"

"n– nothing." sukuna doesn't miss the crack in your voice that you try to hide by clearing your throat. "i didn't say anything."

he hums.

the corner of his lip quirks up and you're met with a smug smirk that can only mean you're really in for it now. he strides through the water, big and confident, but just as he's about to reach you, you take in a deep breath and dive under.

sukuna lets out a chuckle, amused by your feeble attempt of running away.

it's still cold, it's fucking freezing, and he's sure his balls are about to disappear back inside his body, but there's no way he's backing down now – you wanted him here, you begged him to come and join you in the water, and so you shying away from him is out of the question.

you wanted to play, so he'll play.

the moment you come back up for air, he's behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you flush to him while you squeal and squirm. with your naked bodies pressed together, warmth blooms inside you both; he nips at your neck hungrily and you dig your nails into his forearm, a pleased smile gracing your lips.

"m'gonna have to eat you now."

[svmjaeyvn]

hidden love, l.hs

synopsis: there were two things that park jongseong reiterated to you growing up.

1: he was the better, funnier, smarter, awesomer sibling and always would be, and 2: you were to never, ever, fall for any guys like his friends, literally and figuratively.

the first was a lie, one you always rolled your eyes at and the second was something 12-year-old you always agreed to without hesitation. but with time, they soon both became a fib from your lips, 14-year-old you coming to the disastrous realization that boys weren't as icky as you once thought and your older brother's best friend had the prettiest smile (when he wasn't being annoying.) as you continued to grow older, those fluttering emotions grew as well, even with him heading off to university it seemed to leave you with a sense of longing, happier than ever when he'd visit.

until you were 16 and he came home with a girl, one that was far prettier than you were able to compete with in your head and nice enough to be a saint. your hopeless, devastating one-sided crush was forced to be swallowed without much pride, though it held no avail until you dramatically decided to never speak to heeseung again. and it worked, ignoring all his calls and texts, avoiding your family home like the plague whenever your brother was home for break if he was visiting, and simply acting entirely clueless in the unfortunate circumstances that you did end up caught by him, chalking it up to dramatic teenage hormones.

once you reached the age of it being your turn to head to college, you signed up for every exchange program possible, leaving you traveling the world for three years that passed with no contact and your once-upon-a-time crush nearly forgotten. that was until you came back home, finally settling to finish uni and all of a sudden you were a kid again, fawning over your brother's best friend who didn't know how to leave you alone. this time though, heeseung didn't see you as that annoying kid who followed jay around, he saw you for you which scared him so much more with how you've grown and nothing was worse than him feeling something for his best friend's off-limits little sister.

featuring: lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon, nishimura riki, kim sunoo, yang jungwon, hanni pham, kim chaweon, yoon keeho, yoon yechan

status: writing. start: 03/30/24. end: tba.

genre: non-idol!au, college/young adult!enha, heeseung x reader, slight age gap (4 years), brothers best friend trope

content & warnings: age gap??? (slightly questionable morality but no romantic feelings or grooming since they end up with no contact for years until adulthood), cursing, drinking, all that jazz, innuendos, sexual humor, suggestive content, possible smut, forbidden relationship, sneaking around, overprotective jay, jay tries to fight heeseung cause duh, crazy exs, stalker mention, slow burn since they're both in denial, heeseung kind of toxic mentality which is forced to be fix, angst but fluffy ending (?)

a/n: based off the cdrama. watched it months ago but shit had me giggling and kicking my feet even if it's cliche. heeseung is so forbbidden older love coded i had to. im trying to make this a oneshot so well see how long it is,,,,,,, the plot will develop from when they were kids to adulthood to provide some background. once the actual romance starts heeseung will be 24 and reader will be 20 (the year will be 2025). all my drafts and writing has been about jake so im branching out (i love my man tho so he'll have his moments here). anyway! lets see how long it takes me to finish up this one

word count: 6k (as of now)

taglist: closed! (86 of you have responded omg)

[inbabylontheywept]

Weird Grandpa Story #2

I remember asking my mom once, if her dad had gotten ornerier as he'd gotten old. I'd heard about that happening, and it would've made sense for him. He was already the orneriest old cuss I'd ever met. Couldn't even imagine him being grumpier than he was.

Instead of answering the question directly, she told me about what it was like going to church with him as a kid. Their church was a small Mormon ward out in the sticks of Colorado, and he served as their Bishop - mostly by virtue of being the only one willing to do that much unpaid work. He was also the ward pianist. He actually liked playing piano, and he liked having an audience, so it was more or less understood that he was willing to be the bishop in exchange for being the pianist. 

Which could've been a good trade, but there were a few problems.

The first problem was that Grandpa Dale played every song at about triple speed. He was a deeply impatient person, and that extended to how he played music. The second problem was that he had a bad habit of cursing under his breath. That would've been a scandalous  enough habit for a Mormon bishop, but was made much worse (and also much funnier)  by him being pretty damn deaf. So what he thought of as "quiet" cursing under his breath was more of just a verse hoarse way of yelling. I only visited him for a week or two every summer, and I still learned most of my bad words from him. 

So every Sunday would start with a quiet prayer, and then Bishop Grandpa Dale would go to the piano, sit down, and play the nightcore version of Praise to the Man. He would occasionally play other hymns, but he really, really liked that one. This would continue until he hit a wrong note, which was basically inevitable because his music philosophy was that if he could play a song flawlessly, it was time to play it faster. So he'd play until he hit that wrong note, at which point he would scream-whisper SHIIIIIT and, because he did not actually read music so much as memorize it, the only way he'd be able to get his rhythm back was by going back to the start. 

If it was a good Sunday, he could get it in two tries. Some Sundays took as many as five. 

I learned two things about Grandpa Dale from this story. The first was that he could play piano. I'd never actually seen him do that before. Still haven't, come to think of it. Second was that the man that I visited once a year, who always seemed on the verge of exploding, who scared the absolute dickens out of me, was actually the chilled out version of the man my mom grew up with.

And it helped knowing that, actually. I'm actually a pretty anxious person, and my mom is, also, a pretty anxious person, and as a teenager we'd sometimes get in these doom loops where we'd wind each other up until our springs cracked. She'd be worried about me growing up to be happy, and I'd be worried about letting her down, and my worrying would make me unhappy, and my unhappiness would make her unhappy, and we'd just kind of dissolve into these anxieties like cotton candy in the sea and become totally unbearable to be around for a bit. Then my dad would sit us both down and very politely tell us that we were being crazy. He had this quote how being sad that someone else is sad that you're sad is the emotional equivalent of being a Klein flask and that at some point you have to just say I am allowed one (1) single layer of emotional recursion, at most, and ideally zero. 

And it was always kind of embarrassing and silly, but when I was tempted to be more upset with my mom about it, I could remember the piano story and go: Sheesh. She has more of a right to be anxious that I do. For me it's really just genetics, but she grew up with the Cactus-Killing Gopher-Smasher. A whole 18 years of that. I spent two weeks every summer with that guy, and I love him, but I always came home feeling like I'd survived something. She's a trooper.

[krakensdottir]

The idea of Crowley previously being a very powerful angel and still carrying around shards of that power is just so delicious to me. I'm a sucker for characters who aren't at all what they used to be. Underdogs who were obviously once a Big Deal, and you can't see it most of the time, until some improbable bit of classified knowledge or mention of higher connections leaks out. Especially if they really don't like to talk about it or dwell on who they were, if for one reason or another, they want to leave it all in the past.

I have had a feeling about Crowley since season 1. His position on Hell's hierarchy is relatively low, so it's not immediately apparent at first. But things stood out. How he bends reality to his will without seeming to even think about it, sometimes even without realizing. He decides it would be funnier if the paint guns were real guns, but also makes sure no one actually gets shot. This seems to take no effort or concentration on his part; it's done almost offhandedly. Or how he drives the Bentley through a wall of fire, keeping it from falling apart by sheer determination, while the much higher-ranking demon in the seat next to him is discorporated in seconds. Almost as impressive is how he negotiates London traffic, which from what I've heard is a borderline miraculous feat normally, let alone at 90 miles per hour.

And of course, the time stopping. Something even Aziraphale apparently isn't capable of. Something that, with a particularly fierce effort, literally stops Satan in his tracks. The sort of power wielded by a cosmic engineer who once needed it to do his job - 'I helped build that one,' he says, eyes a little distant as stares at a picture of a nebula - and he still carries it with him, skulking around on Earth, far from the cosmos he helped to create. Having let go of most of the rest, even the memories of it, burying them with the person he used to be. He's changed who he is but he can't change what he is, and if you cracked open that lowly serpent, you'd be blinded by the starlight within.

[phoenixkaptain]

I love it when pre Original Trilogy era shows how much effort went into making the Death Star. It took decades, literal decades, and it took so much money and so many people and it was such a secretive thing and it’s staffed by millions because it’s the size of a small moon.

I cannot express how much all of the added information makes it so much funnier that Luke blew it up.

Luke destroys literally everything Palpatine built. He blows up the Death Star, which was referenced in universe as early as the second movie. He blew up the weapon of mass destruction twenty years in the making. And he blew it up pretty much directly after it’s first and only successful attack. It was operational for fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes that Palpatine had the thing he’d been building for longer than Luke has been alive, and Luke blows it up. First day retirement, but first hour retirement.

Luke convinces Darth Vader to turn back to the light side, a feat thought literally impossible by literally everybody. Sidious clearly doesn’t see Vader’s betrayal coming. Vader’s betrayal was not in his plans, nor was it something he was prepared for. Sidious is a powerful Force user with all four limbs while Vader is a man in the tin can Palpatine put him in. If Palpatine had seen Vader turning coming, he would not have allowed it to happen.

Luke literally should not even be alive. Palpatine almost definitely got Padme out of the way on purpose, and he almost certainly was trying for her unborn child as well (there was way too big of a risk that a cute liddol bebe would bring some humanity back to Anakin, and Palpatine did not want Anakin to have any humanity) Luke living is literally the first step in Palpatine’s ultimate downfall, especially once Vader finds out that Luke is his son. His very alive son. His son that is not dead, despite Palpatine claiming Anakin killed Padme. Implying that Anakin killed Padme and she posthumously gave birth. But, she didn’t give birth on Mustafar, which was the last place Anakin interacted with her. And once the mother dies, you have to get those fuckers out fast or they die too.

I imagine Darth Vader piecing all of this together is that meme with all the math floating around his head, because how could Padme have died by his hand and then given birth like two hours later?

Luke killing Palpatine is what ultimately leads to the dissolution of the Empire as an omnipotent entity. Luke killed the Empire. Luke spends a good amount of his adult life killing Empire remnants. We see that in the Mandalorian, since he’s so recognizable that Gideon immediately knows he’s fucked just by seeing an X-wing. We read it in Legends’ continuity, where Luke terrifies Imperials because he can walk into their changing room and stand in their for a minute and they don’t even notice.

Luke destroyed Palpatine’s life’s work. Everything Palpatine spent his whole life working towards, and Luke kills all of it. He blows up not one, but two Death Stars (he may not have pulled the trigger on the second Death Star, but without him, it never would have been destroyed). He convinces not one, but multiple Sith and Dark Jedi to return from the Dark Side. He is the only reason that Obi-Wan Kenobi, the biggest pain in Palpatine’s ass ever born, lives long enough to make it to the Death Star.

Palpatine went through so much effort. And just when he had finally won, when he finally had a weapon capable of destroying entire planets with a single blast, making it impossible for any planets or peoples to go against him, Luke shows up nineteen years late to the Jedi party with space Starbucks and a droid twice his age and almost singlehandedly destroys everything Palpatine ever had a hand in creating.

Luke manages to become even worse than Obi-Wan Kenobi, the ultimate thorn in the side of politicians, and Luke doesn’t even understand any politics. He wasn’t trained in diplomacy like Obi-Wan and Leia, no, he’s a farmboy who left home for the first time in his entire life, just this morning. And he is the one to destroy the Empire.

If they rewrote Star Wars and had it entirely from Palpatine’s perspective, Luke Skywalker would be his greatest foe. Luke Skywalker would be the final boss. Luke Skywalker is the antithesis of everything Palpatine believes in and he is the one character that Palpatine cannot predict. He isn’t as moldable as Anakin, he doesn’t respond to threats very well, he’s apparently impossible to kill via Force lightning (still the funniest scene of all times, the progression of Palpatine’s face falling and him looking like “what the fuck??? Is this kid rubber??? I’ve electrocuted him eight times???”), his unwavering faith in his father’s goodness makes Darth Vader want to be a better person, Luke Skywalker is the big bad of Palpatine’s story and—

There is nothing in this world that is funnier than someone’s biggest antagonist being Luke fucking Skywalker. Luke Skywalker, who saved the galaxy with the power of love and who shouldn’t exist, by Jedi rules and by Palpatine’s own attempts, and whose best friends are literally droids, which Palpatine canonically hates!

Everything about this is hilarious, this is the funniest thing in all of media, Palpatine loses absolutely everything to some backwater farmboy who fucking likes droids.

[mya-valentine]

Hello crack request Tighnari, Kinich, Ayato, Cyno, Childe? (Sorry if this is a lot), S/o try pranking by kabedon them, this time they wanted to be the dominant one and pin them against the wall, while saying a cringey line like "Stop right there Babygirl~". only one problem though, s/o is shorter than them so they only look cute trying such attempt. You can write this in Headcanons :))

Headcanon: Tighnari, Kinich, Ayato, Cyno, and Childe With a Short S/O that Tried to be Intimidating (They Failed Miserably)

A/N: I deadass had to look up what a kabedon was

Tighnari

Tighnari would be caught off guard at first when his S/O suddenly pushes him against the wall. He blinks a few times, staring down at them in amusement, wondering what on earth they’re up to.

The second he realizes what they’re trying to do, he can’t help but smirk. Tighnari would immediately spot their effort to seem intimidating and dominant but would find it incredibly endearing instead of threatening.

Because his S/O is shorter, they might have to stretch to even reach his chest properly to pin him against the wall, making their kabedon attempt more of an adorable struggle than an assertive one.

When they say something like "Stop right there, babygirl~," Tighnari would raise an eyebrow, his fox ears twitching. He’d stifle a laugh, trying to keep a straight face but utterly failing. “Babygirl? Really?”

Tighnari would immediately break out into teasing, leaning down slightly to make eye contact with them. “Are you trying to be the scary one here? Because all I see is someone cute trying their hardest.”

Tighnari would most likely turn the tables in an instant, effortlessly reversing their roles. With one smooth motion, he’d spin them around and pin them instead, leaning in close with a playful smirk. “Now, that’s how you do it.”

He wouldn’t be able to help himself and would burst out laughing once he sees how flustered they’ve gotten after their plan backfired. “I appreciate the effort, though,” he’d say, ruffling their hair affectionately.

Even though they failed to be dominant, Tighnari would still think they’re the cutest thing ever and might reward them with a kiss on the forehead, saying something along the lines of, “Next time, maybe try a line that doesn’t make me cringe.”

In the end, Tighnari would jokingly encourage them to try again, but he’d be sure to let them know that no matter how many attempts they make, he’ll always see them as his precious little S/O.

Kinich

Kinich would be initially confused when his S/O tries to kabedon him. He’s used to being the protective one, so this sudden attempt to dominate him catches him completely off guard.

His S/O’s shorter stature would make their kabedon attempt far less intimidating than intended. They might only reach his chest or shoulder, so instead of feeling pinned, Kinich would feel like he’s being hugged or playfully pushed.

The second his S/O says, “Stop right there, babygirl~,” Kinich would blink once before a slow, amused smirk spreads across his face. He’d bite back a laugh, trying to play along, but his glowing eyes would clearly show his amusement.

Kinich would try so hard not to burst out laughing because he wouldn’t want to hurt his S/O’s feelings. Instead, he’d look down at them with the softest gaze, as if they’ve just done something unbelievably adorable.

To make the situation even funnier, Kinich might lean down, bringing his face closer to theirs and teasing them with a low voice. “Babygirl, huh? Do you really think that’s going to work on me?”

Kinich wouldn’t flip the situation around aggressively but would lightly push back against their arm, making it clear that while they’re trying to take control, he’s still the stronger one. “You might want to work on your delivery next time.”

The more they try to act dominant and say cringey things, the harder it would be for Kinich to keep a straight face. His lips would twitch into a grin, and eventually, he’d let out a warm, deep laugh. “You’re really something else, you know that?”

If he’s feeling playful, Kinich might gently spin them around and pin them against the wall, leaning in close with a soft smirk. “Let me show you how it’s done,” he’d whisper, his voice full of teasing warmth.

No matter how cringey their attempt was, Kinich would absolutely love the effort his S/O put in. After laughing, he’d pull them into a tight embrace, his voice softening as he says, “You don’t have to try so hard to impress me, you know. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Despite all the teasing, Kinich might secretly be a little flustered by their bold attempt. He wouldn’t show it outwardly, but there’d be a faint warmth in his cheeks from the idea of them trying to take the lead, even if they didn’t quite pull it off.

Kinich would probably make a mental note to tease them about this later, promising to get back at them for such a cute and silly prank. He’d say something like, “Next time, I’ll make sure you really understand who’s in charge.”

Ayato

When Ayato’s S/O suddenly pins him against the wall, Ayato would stay calm and composed, eyes glancing down at them with mild curiosity. He would be completely unfazed, wondering what they’re trying to accomplish.

The height difference would be immediately apparent. His S/O might have to stand on their tiptoes or stretch just to reach his chest, and Ayato would watch their efforts with an amused glint in his eyes, finding it more cute than intimidating.

As soon as they say the cringey line, “Stop right there, babygirl~,” Ayato’s composed mask would crack slightly. His lips would twitch into a small smile, but he’d suppress any outward laughter, wanting to see how far they’ll take this.

Always one for a good game, Ayato would play along for a moment, pretending to be helpless. He’d raise one eyebrow and give a slightly teasing smile, saying, “Oh? Babygirl, is it? Should I be worried?”

Ayato’s voice would drop slightly, filled with playful sarcasm. “You’re really quite fearsome, you know,” he’d say, leaning closer to them without breaking eye contact, his calm demeanor never faltering.

If his S/O keeps trying to act dominant, Ayato would find it adorable but impossible to take seriously. He’d smoothly reverse the roles without any effort, gently taking hold of their wrist and flipping the situation. Now they’re the ones pinned against the wall.

“Nice attempt,” Ayato would say with a sly grin as he leans in, “but I think you’re still a bit too short to pull that off convincingly.” His voice would be warm but full of teasing.

After a moment, Ayato wouldn’t be able to contain his laughter any longer. His usually cool and composed demeanor would soften, and he’d chuckle softly, brushing a strand of hair behind their ear. “You really do keep things interesting, don’t you?”

After his teasing, Ayato would quickly shift to affectionate mode. He’d tilt their chin up and plant a kiss on their forehead, his voice softer now. “You know you don’t have to try so hard. I’m already yours, after all.”

Ayato would definitely plan to prank them back. He’d give a cryptic warning like, “Don’t think I won’t remember this. You might find yourself on the receiving end next time, darling.” His tone would be playful but with a hint of mischief, promising a playful revenge.

Despite all the teasing, Ayato would find his S/O’s attempt to be absolutely adorable. He wouldn’t stop smiling or teasing them about it later, subtly slipping in lines like, “So, when’s your next dominant moment scheduled?” whenever the mood strikes.

Cyno

When Cyno’s S/O suddenly pins him against the wall, his first reaction is confusion. Cyno’s always serious, so he doesn’t immediately recognize this as a prank. He’ll just look down at them with a raised eyebrow, wondering what they’re up to.

Cyno is quite a bit taller than his S/O, so their attempt at kabedon would be more cute than intimidating. They might barely reach his chest, and Cyno would notice how much they’re struggling to maintain a serious face.

When they say something like, “Stop right there, babygirl~,” Cyno’s expression wouldn’t change. He’d stare at them in silence, processing what they just said, completely unsure of how to respond.

Cyno, being quite literal, might say something like, “But… I’m not a girl,” in response to the cringey line. He wouldn’t immediately catch on that they’re trying to act dominant or playful, making the situation even funnier.

Once it clicks that his S/O is trying to prank him and be the dominant one, Cyno’s lips would quirk slightly in amusement. He still wouldn’t laugh outright, but there’d be a subtle smile forming, showing that he finds their effort adorable.

Cyno, despite his seriousness, would try to play along in his own way. He’d probably respond with something completely deadpan like, “Are you planning to arrest me now? What’s the charge?” His sense of humor would kick in, though it would be as dry as ever.

Cyno would tease them in the most subtle way possible. “You seem awfully small for someone trying to take control,” he’d say, his voice low but clearly teasing, all while maintaining his usual calm demeanor.

If his S/O tries to keep up the act, Cyno would very casually flip the situation, turning the tables on them with little effort. He’d gently take hold of their wrist and reverse the kabedon, pinning them instead with ease. “I think this suits me better, don’t you?”

Cyno would drop a pun, his signature move, even in this situation. “It’s a good thing you’re cute, because your strategy? It’s pun-ishingly bad.” His straight-faced delivery would make it even harder for his S/O to keep their serious act going.

Even though he’s serious most of the time, Cyno wouldn’t be able to hold back a small chuckle after watching his s/o’s flustered reaction. It would be rare, but hearing his soft laughter would be worth all the teasing.

Once the prank is over, Cyno would wrap an arm around them and give a rare, genuine smile. “I appreciate your effort,” he’d say softly, “but next time, maybe pick a line that makes more sense.”

Even though he won’t show it much, Cyno would actually be flattered that his S/O tried to pull off something so bold. He’d admire their confidence, even if the height difference and cringey line didn’t quite have the desired effect.

Childe

The moment Childe’s S/O pins him against the wall, his lips would immediately curl into a mischievous grin. He’s always down for a playful challenge, and he’d find their attempt to dominate him utterly adorable.

Childe would notice the height difference right away. His S/O might be standing on their tiptoes or barely reaching his chest, and that would only add to the cuteness. He wouldn’t be able to take the attempt seriously at all.

The second they say, “Stop right there, babygirl~,” Childe would burst into laughter. He’d raise an eyebrow and lean down slightly, meeting their eyes with a teasing smirk. “Babygirl? Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”

Childe would totally play along just to see how far they’ll take it. “Oh no, what are you going to do to me now? I’m so helpless,” he’d say dramatically, pretending to be intimidated, though his tone would be dripping with sarcasm.

His S/O’s attempt to be dominant would backfire quickly. Childe would ruffle their hair with a playful grin. “You’re really trying to pull off the tough act, huh? Too bad you’re too cute for that.”

Without breaking a sweat, Childe would lightly push back against their arm and break free from their kabedon, reversing the situation almost effortlessly. Now, it’s them pinned against the wall, with Childe’s arms on either side of their head. “Is this how it’s supposed to go?” he’d whisper with a teasing smirk.

Childe thrives on challenges, so he’d definitely challenge them to try again. “You know, you might need some practice if you really want to pull this off. Let me know when you’re ready for round two,” he’d say with a wink.

His S/O’s cringey line would spark some flirtatious banter. “Babygirl, huh? I think you might be the one who’s in trouble now,” he’d tease, leaning in closer, his voice low and full of mischief.

Despite all the teasing, Childe would genuinely laugh at their attempt, not in a mocking way, but because he finds their effort absolutely adorable. His laughter would be loud and infectious, and he’d pull them into a hug right after.

After all the playful teasing, Childe would shower them with affection to make up for turning the tables on them. He’d press a kiss to their forehead and say something sweet like, “You don’t have to be dominant to get my attention. You’ve already got all of it.”

Even though he teased them relentlessly, deep down Childe would be impressed by their boldness. He loves their playful side and would secretly appreciate how comfortable they are joking around with him, even if the prank didn’t go as planned.

Childe would definitely make it clear that this isn’t over. “This was fun, but you know I’m going to get you back for this, right?” He’d smirk, already plotting his own prank in return.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭

Pairing Rockstar!Eddie x Reader | friends -> lovers

Summary Eddie comes back to Hawkins during a break on his national tour, and realizes he lost touch with someone he cares about deeply: you [angst and fluff]

Word Count: 2.7k

Above, a blue sky melts into orange, bearing a falling sun that makes Lover’s Lake shimmer. Tree branches rustle in the breeze. Until Eddie showed up at your door, whispers of his return to Hawkins had been just that. If you were still in the habit of calling each other regularly, you reckon you would’ve been the first to know. There’s no skepticism now, as the two of you sit on the tailgate of a cherry-red F-150. It’d been a gift from him to Wayne that he had on loan for the outing. This is a spot where campervans usually staked out for the view, but the universe must’ve known the evening belonged to you two. 

There were so many things you told yourself you were going to say when he got back from the road, but the words were hard to find. Elation and confliction had decided that your heart would be the grounds for their tug-of-war. Time had a habit of doing that, muddling feelings. Blurring old lines.  

“Does it feel weird?” you ask. They’re the first words you’ve spoken in a while. It takes Eddie a second to realize you’re talking to him. 

He straightens up in apology. “Does what feel weird?” The hole in his jeans gives sight to the bruise on his knee. You study it, imagining the many ways it could’ve formed. Knee-sliding on stage, most likely. 

“Being back in Hawkins,” you say, meeting his gaze. 

The immediate answer that poses itself on the tip of his tongue is no. Then it occurs to him that what you’re really asking is if it feels weird to be back with you. To that, there is no concrete answer. No such thing as black and white. There’s only technicolor when it comes to you, so vivid and complex that he wished it was as simple as a binary. 

“I don’t know if I’d use the word weird.” 

“Different?” you supply. 

He lifts a shoulder. “That’s a little more like it,” he says. “Coming home always is.” 

You hum, twisting the gold bracelet around your wrist. There’s a silver one around his own and his fingers are adorned with bulky steel rings. More tattoos have found a home beneath his skin as well. The longer you study everything new about him, the more a look that hauntingly resembles grief blooms on your face. As if something that once belonged to the two of you had been lost to the passing of time. When the same sense begins to swell within his own chest, he tries to snub it out the best way he knows how, beckoning whatever levity may be waiting in the wings.  

“But a lot of things stayed the same. Like Mike,” he starts. “I thought he would’ve called it quits by the time I got back, but he’s still kicking around at the auto shop. I was more surprised to see him than he was to see me.” 

After teaching Eddie the little his father failed to teach him about cars, Mike Summerdale gave him his first steady job the summer before his senior year. Working at Starcourt hadn’t held up, neither did Family Video or any other ‘boring’ employment. Mike’s Tire & Auto Shop was the only gig he sustained before the world had bigger plans. Eddie was the type who needed to move around, work with his hands, be challenged. Mike was one of the only people who’d been keen enough to discern that. 

Working at the shop not only gave him a sense of stability, but it also gave him you. The evening you came by for a last minute oil change on your parent’s Peugeot 504—ten minutes before closing—was the day he learned you were even funnier and more down to earth than what he’d gathered from within the stuffy halls of Hawkins High. 

A smile starts on your own lips. “He was probably ready to put his best man back to work,” you say. “Your hands are all pretty now.” 

Scoffing, Eddie turns his palms up as if he’s prepared to prove you wrong. There’s calluses on his fingertips from playing guitar, but not much else. His hands are nowhere near as rugged as they were when he was a mechanic. Back when you’d finally had enough of his indifference, you remember getting him a special cream and even rubbing it into his hands yourself when he puppy-dog-eyed his way into it. Some nights, long after you were supposed to have been back at your parents place, you’d be sitting in his living room with the TV glow illuminating your faces as the scent of eucalyptus lingered in the air between you. 

Eddie follows your hand as you reach over to run your fingers over his palm. “If I gave you a socket wrench right now, you probably wouldn’t even know how to use it.” You’re shamelessly teasing him now. It feels good. 

A genuine smile pulls on his lips, eyes brighter as he looks over at you. Even in his amusement, his next words are thoughtful. “Some things you don’t forget.” 

Sobering words, more like. Memories begin to roll in one by one until they avalanche and you can’t help but relieve yourself of the pressure by shoveling it over to him. 

“Do you remember the night we met?” you ask. “After that we were together all the time.” 

Back when time was all you had. Twenty-four hours wasn’t the same anymore. There were more responsibilities to fill it with, different relationships to entertain. For a while, the only thought ticking in your minds was when you’d get to see each other again. When the phone calls stopped, the care never went away. Neither did the curiosity, the stress of not knowing how the other was doing or where they were in the world. Those concerns continued to ring on and on, reverberating down the hallways of want that built themselves within your hearts. 

The rouge tear that streams down your cheek is the pioneer of more to come. Eddie swallows the lump in his throat when he sees it, hand twitching once in his lap. The next time, he doesn’t stop himself from reaching out to wipe your tears with his thumb. It’s a gesture meant to distract him from the fact that he’s the reason behind them. There’s no escaping the tidal wave of guilt that rushes in to drag him out to sea. You sniffle and shake your head to let him know that it’s okay, but his head is already under water. 

“I do remember,” it comes out quiet, thick. “The night we met—everything.” 

“Then what happened? What did I do wrong?” The wind is knocked out of him at that. “I know things changed so fast, but did everything before you left just get resigned to a spot on a timeline? Something for you to talk about to Rolling Stone?”  

Eddie tries to swallow around his guilt, but ends up choking on offense. 

“I never asked for any of this,” he asserts, hopping off the truck bed. “I may’ve begged God when I was a kid, but that’s ‘cause I didn’t know any better,” he says. “You don’t know what it’s been like. You don’t get to suggest that I stopped giving a shit.”

“Then what did you do, Eddie? Because that’s what it feels like.” You don’t mean to raise your voice, but there’s no way to reel it back in.

You can see the moment his stomach drops. It’s in the way his body grows tense, the faint color that rises to his cheeks, the light that wavers in his eyes. “You’ve been right here in Hawkins with all your friends and family three steps away. I’m the one who’s been in a new city every other night, cameras flashing wherever I go.” His voice remains level, but he talks with his hands like he always does. 

“I’ve been on autopilot for the past three months to make it back here with a semblance of sanity. So I’m sorry if I stopped picking up the phone to call. I was too busy trying to breathe with a goddamn elephant on my chest.” He paces away from you to run his hands through his hair. When he faces you again, he looks small. “This is all new to me. If you could just extend some grace.” 

Every word hangs heavy in the space between you. Which feels like miles. Eddie doesn’t huff or move or make any rash decision he’ll regret. He averts his gaze to refocus his attention on the lake. Its stillness feels like a mockery. There’s a dull thud as your feet meet the ground, followed by footsteps as you head into the woods. Despite every inch of you that wants to, you don’t look back. The feeling of his gaze is enough. 

He follows a few minutes after you’ve disappeared. The whole way, he wonders if his words were too harsh, if he’d gone about expressing himself the right way. The earthy crunch of his footsteps are soft as comes up behind you. You’re standing at The tree. The one everyone in Hawkins manages to come across in a lifetime, even if they decide not to leave their mark. The stories you heard about it growing up made it out to be a relic. 

Wound-Bearer was the name it had been given by a man from the class of ‘66, meant to immortalize the proof of love, romantic and platonic. Or at least bear a sign that it once existed. Looking at it now, more initials had been added since you and Eddie contributed to it your senior year. The carving stood out more than the rest, not because it was particularly noticeable or impressive, but because it was yours. Eddie stops a few paces away and spots it in seconds as he looks over your shoulder. 

Both of you hold your breath until you give in. 

“I didn’t mean to sound selfish. I’ve just been scared, Eddie.” You’re ashamed as you turn around to face him. “Scared that you didn’t want to talk anymore. That our friendship was fading away,” you say, scoffing a second later. “Now I sound like we’re in a movie.” 

A tenderness settles in his eyes that you don’t believe you deserve. “Our lives are a fucking movie,” he says, breathing out a chuckle. 

Things began to take off after he got scouted by the agent who’d flown out from California to visit family. You remember the dreams that had filled your head, each one of them somehow including you—you tagging along on the road, sitting front row at his shows, being right off camera during interviews. Reality proved itself to be nowhere near as sweet as your imagination. Later, when he signed to a label and was set for a national tour, the sacrifices of the limelight revealed themselves as pressing and real. 

Joining him in that new stage of his life meant leaving everything you’d ever known, bypassing university, being subject to thousands of eyes that just wanted to gawk. That’s why the day he left Hawkins was the day he left you behind. Even in his own mind, you not being his personal assistant was for the better. Him losing a sense of stability to chase his dreams didn’t mean you should be strapped to his side and subject to the same. 

At least you had a shot at creating a nice life for yourself. You were smart, talented, and someone worth building a life with. Music was all he had going. Leaving Hawkins was his only shot and it meant walking through the fire. 

A surprised sound escapes him when you crowd into his space to wrap your arms around him like he’s a soldier home from war. It’s the same type of hug Wayne had given him earlier that afternoon. It felt like love, like safety, like home. He melts into you, and the two of you stand like this until you remember that embraces aren’t meant to last forever. 

•••

Tonight, Eddie Munson takes it slow for the first time in his life. The speed limit signs on the side of the road dare him to go their limit. There’s hardly anybody on the roads to give him trouble for it either. It’s nice, the long way home always is. The radio plays low as the warm night air flows in through the widows. Eddie drives with his right hand, left arm hanging outside the truck. 

“Fuck, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” he grouses as he brakes for a stop sign. There’s enough earnestness in his voice to make you startle as you track his gaze. 

On the opposite side of the street, the old location for Scoot’s Scoops sits idle with boarded windows and a dimmed sign. 

You heave a sigh. “They just relocated,” you assure, rubbing your chest to calm down. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Eddie’s eyes are apologetic as he looks over at you. “I damn near had one myself. Sorry.” He reaches over to squeeze your thigh before his brain catches up to his body. It’s a fleeting touch that warms your entire being and stuns you into a brief stillness as if he was electric. 

He shifts in his seat and clears throat. “Maybe we can go to the new location tomorrow. Get some ice cream.” 

You blink a few times, mind still fuzzy. “Yeah, that’d be fun.” 

The remainder of the ride is quiet. When he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex, you’re swift to gather your things into your lap, still buzzing. “Thanks for the ride back,” you say, biting on your lower lip as a loud silence stretches. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He wants to walk you to your door, but he fears he’s already overstepped. “Yup. G’night.” 

Eddie curses under his breath as the door snaps shut behind you. After running a hand down his face, a tube lipstick catches his attention in the passenger seat. It takes him a few seconds to grab it and follow after you. By then, you’ve already made it inside and up the short flight of stairs. When the door of the complex closes behind him, it cuts off a cacophony chirping insects. 

Upon making it to the second floor, there’s something intimate about seeing you standing under the dim, humming lights fiddling with your keys. It isn’t until you get the door open that you regard him. 

His smile is sheepish, unlike him in every way. “You forgot this.” He reads the label as if he hadn’t committed it to memory during his short trip up the stairs, “Strawberry Crush, New Hydrating Formula.” A boyish smile buds on his face as he holds it out to you. 

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much.” Contrary to your words, there’s no inflection of surprise in your tone as you take it from him. Forgetting hadn’t been a mistake. His eyes flit inside to get a glimpse of your apartment. “Maybe I can give you a proper tour tomorrow after ice cream,” you offer. 

Eddie shoves his hands into his pockets. “Sure, I’m down.”

He waits until you’re inside to walk back to his truck. You rush to peep out your living room window to watch him climb into the truck. He doesn’t pull away like you expect him to. Instead, he stays parked. Headlights shining, attracting moths and other flying things. The urge to see him one last time overpowers your better judgment in a fight that lasts all of five seconds. 

In record time, you’re back outside. He rolls down his window as you approach. 

“Forget something else?” 

“I did, actually.”

You rest your forearms on the window sill and he instinctively leans towards you, warm eyes searching your face trying to get a read. In another life, he sees your next move coming. In this one, it seems too good to be true: a kiss as soft as they come to the sounds of the night.

-

Any and all interaction appreciated. I see you <3

[thebibliosphere]

One of the funnier aspects of playing with the Pennyworth canon is being able to play into Alfred having fourth-wall-breaking powers.

He's not psychic. But his relationship with reality is a little bit to the left of everyone else's on account of the War Trauma, Witches Spiking His Tea With Hallucinogens That One Time, and a heaping dose of Main Character Energy.

He's just a little bit too aware of things. A little bit too ahead of the plot. Everyone else around him is staggering about, fumbling their way through the dark, and Alfred's already pulling out his gun, anticipating the next shot. Except for when the plot needs him in the dark. Then he's just as surprised as everyone else, if not more so, because he didn't see it coming, and Alfred always sees it coming.

Not to mention all the times he hallucinates a dead person conveniently telling him how to resolve this week's plot while quietly worrying he might have gone A Little Bit Mad.

It makes for an entertaining character study when you drop him into a more traditional Batman world, and he's suddenly second-fiddle to the somehow even more insane shit Bruce is dealing with on a daily basis.

Bruce: I don't know what I'd do without you. It's like you anticipate everything. How did you know I'd need an antidote for fatal laughing gas?

Alfred with the ghost of Martha Wayne standing over his shoulder, absolutely sweating bullets and not about to admit to anything lest he end up enjoying a mandatory 72 hour grippy sock vacation in Arkham: Oh, well, y'know, what's a butler for...

[lovebugism]

Hi there 👋🏻 I've been binge reading your stories lately and I love them all! I have a request if you're up for it. Could you write one where shy!reader doesn't like her laugh because some people think it's annoying but Eddie loves it? Totally not self-projecting by the way! 🙃 Thank you!

thank you angel! please enjoy :D — eddie comforts you when he finds out an old boyfriend made you hate your laugh (shy!fem!r, established relationship, hurt/comfort, 1k)

You and Eddie sit on opposite sides of the worn, sunken-in couch — long legs bent at the knees, socked feet wedged neatly beneath your thighs. Your bare calves rest on either side of his lap while his calloused palms rub up and down the length of them. His touch is largely absentminded as he tries hopelessly not to laugh through the punchline of his own joke.

“—And I was like, ‘Boom. You lookin’ for this?’”

You think the brown-eyed look of expectancy he gives you is funnier than anything. You smile wide, hiding the sparkling expression behind your palm.

Eddie meets your beam with a boyish pout. He repeats the punchline, more serious this time. “And I was like, ‘Boom’—”

“I heard you, Eds,” you assure with a small chuckle. A mere breath of a laugh.

His frown deepens. “Oh, c’mon!” he exclaims, lifting his hands in protest. They drop back to your ankles a second later. “That was funny! That always kills with Hellfire!”

You nod rapidly, brows raised and eyes wide, like a parent comforting a child. “It was good,” you assure quickly.

“Then why aren’t you laughing?”

“So, what— I have to laugh if I think something’s funny?”

“Well, that’s usually how it works, yeah,” Eddie monotones with a flat face, nodding until his wild curls sway around his jaw. He shrugs lazily a second later and jokes, “If you’re not a psychopath, at least… You’re not a serial killer, are you?”

You meet his narrowed eyes with a more pensive gaze. Your lips purse to the side of your mouth as you jokingly ponder the silly question. “No,” you answer after a few long moments. “Not yet, anyway.”

Eddie nods like he’s relieved. “Nice.”

“There’s still time, though,” you add with a scrunched nose.

He scrunches the bridge of his back. “I’ll take that risk,” he says with a small huff before lifting his weight on his knuckles. The old couch creaks in protest as he leans over to kiss you. 

With a poorly bitten-back grin, you meet him halfway. Your mouths smack together in a fleeting kiss that tastes faintly of frozen pizza.

You settle back on the arm of the couch with Eddie’s socked toes wriggling under your thighs. His thumbs continue tracing shapes on the insides of your calves. He watches you watch the staticky television screen, too wound up about the whole thing to join in on the stupid sitcom.

The subtly overwhelming feeling bubbles in his throat until it spills like vomit from his mouth. “Do you think I’m not funny or something?” he blurts, then goes all shy right after. “Is that why… Is that why you don’t really laugh at my jokes?”

Your breathy scoff only further proves his point. “I laugh at your jokes all the time, Eds.”

He shrugs, unconvinced. “I mean… I guess. You, like, breathe really hard through your nose or whatever, but you don’t… You don’t laugh.”

“I think if you heard me laugh, you’d break up with me,” you joke and don’t think twice about how self-deprecating it is.

Eddie’s face twists at the thought — that he’d ever want to break up with you, or that there’d be a part of you he wouldn’t automatically adore on instinct. “Why would you say that?” 

You shrug with a vague I don’t know type of sound and turn back to the television. “My laugh is just weird, I guess....”

“No one’s laugh is weird!” Eddie insists. “It’s, like, the one sound people make when they’re happiest— It can’t be weird.”

You flash him a deadpan look of silent disagreement.

He caves.

“Okay. Fine. Dustin Henderson’s laugh is weird,” he concludes. “But… that’s just because he’s Dustin, you know?”

You breathe a faint chuckle at that. Almost like you’ve trained yourself to be as quiet in your laughter as you can. 

“My last boyfriend thought my laugh was annoying,” you confess like it’s no big deal. “So eventually I just kinda… stopped.”

Eddie’s soft features harden into a solemn frown. “What a fucking prick…” he grumbles like a storm cloud.

“It’s okay. I got over it. Mostly.”

He squeezes the backs of your calves with a pair of ringed hands, a warm and reassuring touch. “Well, I don’t think anything you do could annoy me,” Eddie tells you, tilting his head to the side until his wild curls bunch at his shoulders. “Just so we’re clear.”

Something in your chest flutters — like there’s a thousand moths trapped behind your ribcage. “Good to know,” you tease in the same sardonic tone.

Eddie rises suddenly, tugging at your ankles until you’re lying flatter on the couch. A squeal sound in your throat as you watch him rise to his knees and lean over you. He digs his fingers gently into the plush of your sides before you can blink. 

“Get off!” you swat at him, laughing loudly at the tickling sensation before you can help it. The golden sound spills from your lips and fills the dim trailer with so many little sunbeams. 

Your face heats at the proud, lopsided smile Eddie gives you.

“Get off,” you repeat, sterner now but still mostly playful. You’re only slightly surprised when Eddie obeys without pouting. You sit up a bit more and tug your shirt down from where it had ridden up. “And stop looking at me like that.”

Eddie fights to purse his beam to the side of his mouth. Your sparkling, unsmiling disposition is impossible not to smile at. “Can’t help it,” the boy shrugs with a stupid grin. “You’re too cute.”

Your face scrunches in disdain of his compliment. You prop your back against the couch and cross your arms over your chest, averting your gaze to the TV once more. “Just drive me home,” you grumble in protest, hardly meaning it.

“No can do, sweet thing,” Eddie says with a sympathetic sigh, dropping a heavy arm around your shoulder to pull you into his chest. You melt begrudgingly into his sloppy embrace. He presses a kiss to your hair and mumbles into your temple. “‘M never letting you go, actually.”

And, despite your very obvious pouting, you pray he never breaks his promise.

[ayu-stuff]

Edge for Mommy, sweetie

"HAHAHA I can't stop laughing. Just had a shower at your Daddy's place while you're at work with your poofy, childish pull-ups under your clothes! I hope some coworker of yours gets a peek at your cute little waistband. Are you wet honeyy???? Does Mommy's little baby need a change?

Gosh you're pathetic. He fucked me raw, btw. Not that you know what that even means... How long has it been since you don't see Daddy naked? Do you even remember what his big paci looks like? I bet a certain someone doesn't like the parental controls I had installed on all your devices... 😂😂

I bet you'd love it if I dropped my towel now. Such a shame I'm not doing it 😂🥰. But here, you can admire my womanly curves. Does it hurt knowing you're flat as a board and chubby as any 2-year-old toddler? Realizing that the most mature action you'll ever get is your messy humpy time in your crib? Which —I'm pleased to announce you— I record every time through the baby monitor. My friends absolutely love it.🥰

When you get home, you're getting a spanking from Dada. Just because I want to. I'm the Woman of the house now, sweetie, and you're just our clueless little daughter. Have I told you about the baby shower I'm organizing for you next week? Everyone's gonna come to get to know our cute little tot. My personal goal is to make you cry out of shame🥰.

You're 32 and I'm 25, I know, honey. But that makes it so much funnier!! Imagine how good it feels to make you run around the house all nakey-nakey, with a baby-food-stained bib as the only garment you're allowed. Cheeks all blushy and smelly from the baby mush you couldn't get inside your little mouth. Smooth, hairless skin below your neck, with a hilarious baby powder scent mixed with piss. No tits in sight. Just two childish mosquito bites. It's incredibly funny for me HAHAHA.

This afternoon, after your spanking, you're getting an enema and a diaper. And straight to bed with you😂😂. Messy little babies need a lot of sleepy time, don't they? Not as if you could get out of your crib without Mommy's or Daddy's help. I'm sure you will love to hear Daddy's moans through the baby monitor the whole night. I'm planning on sucking him off as you never managed to.

But for now, I want you to go to the nearest bathroom stall. I want a selfie in less than 3 minutes. Only in your wet pull-ups. Hurry up, kiddo.

And you're going to start edging at my video. You haven't been allowed to see so much nudity in months, squirt, so I want you to enjoy it. It's too much for such a young, pure soul like you to watch me almost naked. Almost.

But no cumming, though.

Edge to the body of the woman who destroyed your life and regressed you to the state of an infant.

Edge to the woman who now controls if, and when your messy diapers get changed, as well as how much humpy time you're allowed a month. I want to narrow it down to 30 seconds, what do you think?

Edge for me while thinking about all the things you're not allowed anymore just because I am the grown-up now, and you're the baby.

Edge for me while at work, half-naked and sobbing, knowing that anyone you know could enter the restroom and hear you moaning.

Gosh, you're pathetic. 😂😂😂

Edge for Mommy, sweetie."

[illbegottenfaith]

2001 - theo nott x reader

Honey, what you runnin' from? When you comin' back to bed? Toss and turnin' all night long with me instead Honey, what you runnin' from? Where the hell you headed to? Do you like the way I run after you?

or, theo doesn’t understand what’s holding you back from taking things further

a/n - I think I would classify this soft core smut at best? But adding an 18+ tag jic

tropes/warnings - 18+ MDNI, fluff

word count - 1.6k

“Fucking hell. Hide me.”

You shrunk yourself down the best that you could behind your best friend, Ivy, laser-focused on the boy at the other end of the hallway. Ivy rolled her eyes, making no effort to help.

“I can’t believe you still won’t tell me what happened that night. It can’t have been that bad.”

“It was,” you muttered, stupidly trying to get Ivy to cooperate. It was no easy task, especially on days like today when she was feeling particularly stubborn, which was a problem since the boy looked fully intent on approaching them.

“Will you relax? You look like an idiot. Like an even bigger idiot than usual. He probably doesn’t even remember whatever-“

“Ivy. Happy birthday. Sorry I couldn’t make it to the party.”

Damn. You thought you had more time. Curse him and his unfairly long legs. Ivy did the grown-up thing, which was literally anything other than pretending she didn’t see him. “It’s alright, Theo. You can make it up to me next year.”

“How was it?”

“It was nice, actually. We got a discount on -“

Ivy was cut off by a gentle tug, revealing a hunched-over you. You straightened hastily, clearing your throat, refusing to meet his gaze.

“L/N.”

“Nott.”

“Planning on dropping by tonight?”

You put on a straight face, looking politely confused. “Hm?”

“The party. Tonight.”

“Oh. Where?”

Theo narrowed his eyes, and your face burned under the intensity of his gaze. It took everything you had to keep your features schooled while he shamelessly searched your face for what felt like far too long.

“The Slytherin common room,” he replied, finally tearing his eyes away from you. You relaxed, blinking hard and a little breathless, your palms a little clammy. “Can’t miss it. Just follow the stench of firewhiskey and bad ideas.”

Internally, you nearly passed out. Externally, you shrugged noncommittally. “Sure. Maybe.” Definitely not. You weren’t going to spend a second longer in Theo’s presence if you could help it. 

You and Ivy get to the party and, as expected, you’re abandoned the second she finds Ivan through the crowd. You wander around before you decide to join a group of Slytherins on the couches, next to Theo. You get handed a drink. It burns your throat and makes your eyes water. The loud bass starts to sound more tolerable. Another drink. Theo’s frowning at you. You wonder if anyone’s told him how good concern looks on his face. Everything is now ten times funnier. You press up against Theo, laughing yourself silly, leaning into his touch as he drapes an arm around you. Another drink. You’re more than lightly flushed. Theo places a hand on your thigh. You don’t move it away. 

Eventually, you end up pressed against the door of Theo’s room, your mouths a heady mess of heat, teeth and tongues, your bodies moulding to each other’s. Your eyes flutter shut, blissfully able to let go with your senses dulled by alcohol. You can’t tell if it’s the music or your pulse vibrating through your body, but you’re aching for his touch. He presses a knee against your core and you groan into his mouth, melting into a boneless mush in his arms.

“Theodore,” you sighed desperately, breath catching in your throat. It was enough to slow his ministrations on your neck which had been filling your head with the most delicious kind of static. You never used his first name despite your best friends being glued by the lips since sixth year, mostly because you never went beyond exchanging civil pleasantries. Occasionally, you’d have a chat that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, or you’d let your thoughts wander to his disarming blue eyes or wicked smile, but that was it. It never did, and it never could, go any further than that. You were too different. It would never work. You’d only be setting yourself up for heartbreak. Nothing good could come of entangling with the illustrious Theodore Nott, figuratively or otherwise.

And to use his first name was to acknowledge the existence of this softer, kinder Theo - a version worlds away from that Nott boy with the aloof face and the piercing eyes. He hummed against your neck, thumbs restlessly skimming the waistband of your skirt.

“We can’t - we shouldn’t,” you continued, once you were able to make sense of your fuzzy thoughts. You pushed him back gently, cool air rushing in to douse the heat of the moment. “Our friends have a whole thing. We’d only get in the way. It’s just a bad idea.”

His hands stilled on your hips. “I don’t understand. What about our thing?”

He looked so dazed and so adorably dishevelled that you almost felt sorry for him. It was late, Theo’s words sounded dangerously close to slurring, and if you were being honest, you should have left the party hours ago. You stroked his cheek absentmindedly before gingerly slipping out of his hold, recovering your shirt. You slipped it on, fumbling at rhe buttons with trembling fingers, and turned back to see Theo still watching you, uncomprehending, his swollen lips parted in confusion.

“Get some sleep, Nott. You’ll get what I mean in the morning.”

“Bye, Theo,” Ivy was saying now. “Give Ivan a kiss for me.”

“Should I feel him up while I’m at it?”

“It only seems right to give him the full experience.”

Ivy grinned as he walked off while you all but dragged her down the hall towards your next class.

“Aw, come on, Y/N, he’s not that bad.” She glanced at you, eyes twinkling with mirth. “You know, I always thought he has a thing for y-“

“Aren’t you late for Herbology?”

Ivy cursed as she fumbled at her wristwatch, hurrying down the corridor. In about a minute, she’d realise that she didn’t have Herbology today, but you decided to let her find that out herself.

Hours later, you were holed up in the library, desperately trying to plug your ears with all the ruckus going on floors below. Trying to focus was a losing battle.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Your head snapped up too see Theo leaning against one of the bookshelves. Busted. To be fair, she was nowhere near the world’s best liar, so it was doubtful whether he had even believed her in the first place.

“Nott,” you greeted, in a pleasant enough voice. “Is that the time? I hadn’t realised the party had already started.”

The music continued blasting, more than audible to the two of them. Theo arched an eyebrow, slowly walking over, and you had the decency to look embarrassed over your bald-faced lie.

“I was planning to drop by later.”

“Well, you should.”

“Maybe I will:”

“It’s almost as fun as that last party ages ago.”

You stiffened at the memory. “Ah. Yes.”

Theo leaned over you, broad-shouldered and hypnotising. He dragged his gaze across you inch by agonising inch, undressing you with his eyes. You were starting to feel uncomfortably warm in your uniform. He dropped his voice.

“First and last time I see you in my bed, hmm?”

You choked, failing to suppress the shiver prickling over your skin. “That’s - stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Talking like…that.” You felt your face heat up all over again, cursing yourself for your inability to even pretend to keep your cool in front of him. “Looking at me like that.”

His gaze flickered to your chest, so brief you’d have missed it if you blinked. “Like what?” 

You let out a frustrated, overwhelmed sigh, your brain becoming oddly fixated on the memory of his hands on your hips, travelling up your ribcage, at the nape of your neck, grip tightening on your waist -

“Go on. Use your words.”

His breath tickled the shell of your ear, the closest he’d been to you since that night. 

“Like…like you actually want me. Like I’m something special.”

“You are something special.”

You groaned and looked away. “I’m seeing someone,” you tried, half-heartedly. Theo snorted.

“What, that Davies guy? Yeah, like that’s going to last.”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to feel all that indignant on Davies’ behalf. Not that you were going to let Theo know that. “I’ll have you know that Mac is a perfect gentleman.”

“My point is-“ Theo started, irritatedly. You took a perverse sort of pleasure in ruffling his feathers. “- why the fuck are we talking about Davies when you could be in my bed, doing far more interesting things with that mouth?”

“Or maybe it’s something else entirely. Perhaps you like having me run after you. Is that where you get off, hmm? The thrill of the chase? Being a tease?”

“I am not a -“ you began hotly, before you caught the mischievous twinkle in his eye. You rolled your eyes. “You’re too cocky for your own good,” you muttered. 

“I thought you like me cocky,” he teased. His expression softened the next second and you watched him trace lazy circles on your wrist.

“Besides…I’ve never tried this hard to get into someone’s pants.”

You gave a shaky laugh. Theo bent down once more, this time to press a kiss to your lips, then another, and another, until you were lying on your back on the table, looking sinfully ravished, blouse long forgotten.

One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

[otherone12]

Hi, I'm obsessed with the way you write your stories and I'd like to ask for a request, it's the first time I've done one but I love your stories. I'd like to ask you for one about basement gee x reader (the plot doesn't matter) but I'd like something smut (of course one where both are of legal age) but I'd like to see gerard as someone who is geeky and is in love (somewhat sickly) with the reader

I'm sorry if it's weird, and also English is not my first language so I'm sorry if the wording of the message is bad.

I’m Awkward, Not Dangerous!

Basement!Gerard Way x Reader

-> Masterlist

Hi!!! Omg, I'm glad you like my fics <3 !!! And also thanks for requesting!! I really loved the idea!! Well, I tried to make his nerdy side very visible, mainly by making him very weird in terms of social relationships and some geek references along in the story. Ngl, I had to write this one like three times, 'cause was never good enought, but I think it's nice now lol. I hope you like it! (If it turned out too different from what you imagined, let me know and I'll try to fix it :) )

(If u have some suggestion, idea, or request, just drop it! )

Summary: It suppoused to be another day, but things turned a different when Gerard invite you to watch a movie in his basement, let's just say he REALLY likes you, and you discovered this in the creepy way possible. (I'm terrible at writing summaries)

- Word Count: 3.000

- Warnings: afab SMUT, awkward gerard.

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language ... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

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1st Person POV

School sucks, our senior year was supposed to be a little funnier, right? Unfortunately, that's not what's happening, but it's infinitely better when they're with me.

Sometimes we spent entire periods outside the classroom, just chatting about anything and listening to our favorite bands, while we smoke behind the bleachers.

This was another one of those afternoons, where one less math lesson didn't make any difference, and it seemed much more interesting to hear Frank make jokes about someone's clothes. Followed by Mikey update us on the latest gigs in town, or Ray making insightful comments on every topic that comes up.

Sometimes, Gerard talks about the backstories of the heroes he created, so we spend hours thinking of outfits and some scenes that might be cool. Is really cute when he gets all excited talking about things he likes.

After a while, the conversation starts to wind down. Frank is scrolling through his phone, muttering something about needing to practice with his band. Mikey checks the time and mentions that his work shift was going to start. Ray says he has to study for some test he has tomorrow, and heads out first, leaving the rest of us behind with a lazy wave.

- Guess that’s it for me, folks. - Frank said, getting up - if I miss one more essay they'll look for another guitarist.

- I think I'll go too - Mikey stubbed out his cigarette and picked up his backpack, making his way to the video store - but I'll probably be home by 9pm… maybe later if Pete and I go drink something after the shift.

Within minutes, it’s just Gerard and I.

He’s sitting a little awkwardly, tucking strands of hair behind the ear, like he’s waiting for the right moment to say something. It’s sweet how shy he gets sometimes, especially when the others aren’t around to drown out the silence. There’s always something a little different about him when it’s just the two of us.

- So, uh…- He cleared his throat. - Do you... wanna come over? I was gonna watch that new horror movie I told you about. The really bad one with the cheesy practical effects…

His voice was low, and he blinked with his beautiful hazel eyes, pleading. After a few seconds, he gave a shy, hopeful smile.

- I mean, only if you’re not busy or anything…

- Nope, I’m totally free. - I smiled at him, excited to watch the movie with him.

The walk to Gerard’s house is filled with easy conversation. He talks about the movie, rambling about the director’s other films, his company was really nice, actually. Every now and then, my shoulder brushes his, and I swear I catch him glancing at me from the corner of his eye. Wasn’t something bothering, but it’s kinda… weird?

When we finally reach Gerard’s place, he fumbled with his keys at the front door, a little too eager.

- My parents aren’t home… - He said, being a bit surprised - Well, I'm gonna fix the things in my room in the basement… Can you wait a minute?

he scratched the back of his neck, apparently nervous, so I let out a smile in an attempt to comfort him. I understand that since we hadn't arranged it beforehand, he didn't have time to prepare or anything.

- Sure!

- I’ll be right back - Gerard rushed to his basement, and I stayed in the living room of Way’s house.

Looking around, I saw family pictures, some paints on the wall, books, a pretty carpet… It was a pretty house. Wasn’t long before Gerard returned from the basement, nodding and beckoning me to follow.

Wasn’t the first time I went to his basement, but I was never alone with him.

It’s cluttered but cozy, just like the other times: comics spread out on his bed, action figures on shelves, and posters of old movies plastered along the walls. His bed was covered with a batman sheet, and he gestures toward it with an awkward smile.

- Make yourself comfortable. - Again, he rushed away, going to the kitchen - I’ll grab drinks.

I sat down, noticing the little details scattered everywhere. He even has a stack of DVDs, just waiting to be watched. It’s easy to see how much of himself Gerard has poured into this space, and somehow, that makes it feel intimate.

He came back with two cans of soda, handing me one as he flops onto the bed beside me. His knee bumped into mine, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he pressed play on the remote, the movie starting with a dramatic, over-the-top horror intro.

As the lights dim and the movie flickers to life, I notice Gerard sneaking a glance my way. It’s quick, like he’s checking to see if I’m still there or if I’ve evaporated into thin air. He shifted in his seat, awkwardly pulling his hoodie sleeves over his hands.

I tried to focus on the screen, I really do, but out of nowhere, his hand brushes against mine. It was kind of an accidental touch, my heart raced, but I didn’t move it.

After some seconds of just the sound of the movie filling the room, Gerard cleaned his throat and took a deep breath, like he was trying to take courage to say something.

- Y’know… - I turned my attention to him - I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.

I Glance at him, and he’s looking at the TV like he’s afraid it might explode if he makes eye contact with me.

- Do what? - I asked, trying not to sound as jittery as I feel.

- Uh... spend time with just you. - He scratched the back of his neck, and his gaze moved from the tv to me.

I didn’t know what to say, so I defaulted to my nervous habit, fiddling with my bracelet, twisting it around my wrist like it holds the answer to every awkward situation. Gerard noticed, of course, because apparently, he has a PhD in Me Studies.

- You don’t have to be nervous, sugar.

“Sugar”? He never called me that way before. But he kept talking, like it wasn’t a big deal. I did not protest, I actually kinda liked it.

- You always mess with that bracelet when you’re nervous. - He said like it was something obvious - It’s... kinda cute.

I shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, only to realize: Gerard isn’t watching the movie. He’s watching me. And he’s terrible at being subtle about it.

Before I can process what’s happening, he slips his hand into mine, like a middle-schooler figuring out how to hold hands for the first time. His palm is warm, a little sweaty, okay, a lot of sweat, but weirdly... I didn’t mind.

It wasn't as if I didn't like him, maybe I really liked him too, I'd just never thought about it before. Back to the movie, my mind was filled with a million other things to think about, so I couldn't even focus on looking at the screen. My gaze traveled around the room, but something caught my eye: a small, familiar notebook lying half-tucked beneath a pile of DVDs on the coffee table really close to his bed.

The same notebook Gerard always carries with him at school, the one he’s always scribbling in during lunch or between classes. I couldn’t help myself to take advantage of Gerard's distraction, and I flipped it open. 

My eyes went wide and my heart skipped a beat when I saw what was inside that notebook. Pages and pages of photos of me. Some printed, others cut out from old Polaroids. All of them are candid shots, taken without my knowledge. There’s one of me smoking behind the bleachers, another of me laughing with Mikey, and several from school, walking to class, sitting at my desk, leaning against my locker.

Each one is accompanied by small, scribbled notes in Gerard’s messy handwriting. Things like “She looks so pretty here.” or “I wish this was just the two of us.” … Along with sketches of portraits, pieces of comics that meant something in our “relationship”. There were sketches of us together, drawn in different comic styles, one of us as Jedi, another as superheroes, and even one as cartoon vampires, all accompanied by little speech bubbles with inside jokes.

Every page flipped, I got even more shocked about the large amount of content he has there. Things from years ago, and the last things were from the last days.

- Hey... What are you looking at? - His voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it now, a note of panic creeping in.

I glance up to see Gerard frozen in place, his hazel eyes wide with fear as he notices the notebook in your hands.

- W-where did you…? - He mumbled, turning bright red, embarrassed - Uh... I can explain! Wait, no, I mean- don't freak out... It’s... okay, it looks bad, but it’s not that bad.

He let go from my hand and got up, rubbing his hands together nervously. he began to pant, and his countenance indicated that he was desperately looking for an excuse.

- Well, it is exactly what it looks like! - I yell, turning back to the notebook, still shocked, analyzing every page.

He turned around, rubbing one of his hands over his face in a messy motion. Before long, he began to walk around the room in circles, while his shaky voice continued to speak.

- Oh God, I’m gonna die. Yep. This is how I die. - he murmured to himself, before facing me again - Just bury me under these comics.

Before i could say anything, he blurts:

- Okay, look… it’s not like I’m a total creep, okay? I-I just... thought you looked cool... like, really cool, and, um - The words rushed out of his mouth, as if he had stopped thinking and was just throwing anything to ease the situation -… okay, I might have taken some pictures without asking… b-but it’s not like ‘weird’ weird! It’s... more... uh... admiration?

I couldn't hide my look of confusion. At the same time as I wanted to get out of there, I didn't want to. It was obviously strange, but at the same time it was adorable the way he noticed me. The things he wrote in that notebook said so much more than I could have imagined he felt. Not giving me time to think about what to say, he kept going.

- I thought, y'know, maybe if I... cataloged- no, wait, bad word… uh, recorded...? - He groans - I swear I sound less creepy in my head.

- Look, I was gonna tell you... - He insists, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. - I mean, not like this, obviously. 

He catched my confused expression and groans again.

-Ugh, you probably think I’m a total loser now.

The more he spoke, the less frightening the situation became and the cuter he seemed to me. So I stood up, in a failed attempt to calm him down, but the result was the complete opposite.

- Wait! Please don’t go. I-I know this is... a lot. But I promise I’m not some psycho. - He pauses, then adds, - Like, I’m awkward, not dangerous! 

I don't know where that feeling came from. Maybe it's always been there. I wanted to hug him, kiss him and tell him that it was fine, that I knew he wasn’t a psycho. 

 - Okay, okay! I know I’m weird, but... don’t leave me hanging here. Please. I really... like you. - the statement caught me off guard. it's not as if it wasn't obvious, but I wasn't prepared.  -  Like, more than I ever thought possible.

The way he looks at me, a perfect mix of nervous wreck and hopeful puppy is strangely endearing. Something about his awkward honesty makes it impossible to walk away. So I finally react, letting a grin escape from the corner of my lip. 

- You’re such a dork, Gee. - I chuckled, and his eyes opened wide.

- W-wait, does that mean…? - A confused happiness made Gerard freeze and look directly at me. 

-Yeah. - I approached him, smiling and rolling my eyes - I think I like you too, you idiot.

-Oh my God… - his hazel eyes glowed and a huge smile formed in his pink lips - this is like one of those rom-coms where the nerd actually wins?!

I shook my head, laughing at his words. He’s still red-faced and fumbling, but it’s clear now: he’s just a lovable, geeky mess who adores me in his own awkward way.

- No pressure or anything, but, uh... If we were in a romance movie, this would be the part where the two leads kiss.

I chuckled and my lips reached his. The warm sensation filled my body, the kiss was sloppy and desperate, felt like something he was holding for too long, something he couldn’t deal with anymore. His hands held my waist, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He let out a soft moan and pulled back only to whisper:

- This feels like... you know... that scene in Return of the Jedi when-

- Gerard, - I interrupted, laughing. - Less Star Wars and more kissing, please.

- Right, yeah, sorry. - He turned bright red.

Gerard catched my lips again, deeper this time, with a bit more confidence. His hand slid to my waist, thumb brushing lazy circles against my skin, and his tongue explored my mouth, while he laid me down on his bed. His lips trailing down to my neck, scattering kisses that made my whole body buzz.

-You smell amazing. Like... that forest level in that one game. You know, the one where…

He trailed off, realizing how silly it sounded, but the look on his face was too earnest to be embarrassed.

- You are such a dork. - I laughed again, running my fingers through his messy hair. 

- Yeah, but I’m your dork, - he murmured, nuzzling into the crook of my neck, planting soft kisses along my collarbone.

His touch was gentle but hungry, as if each kiss, each brush of his fingers, was an apology for all the moments he’d spent longing for this. 

When he slid his hands under my shirt, he paused, looking at me with wide, nervous eyes. 

- Is this... okay? - he asked, shyly. The insecurity in his tone of voice was adorable, no more so than the sparkle in his eyes as he saw me give him a nod, lifting my arms so he could pull the shirt over my head. His gaze lingered on me, admiration glowing in his eyes. - Wow... You’re so -

- Gerard.-  I touched his face, guiding him back down for another kiss. - You’re doing fine.

He smiled, clearly relieved, and kissed me again, this time more eagerly. His hands, still trembling slightly, found their way to the button of my jeans. He fumbled for a moment, biting his lip in concentration. 

Once my jeans were off, he took a moment to just look at me, his hands resting on my hips as if grounding himself. 

- I don’t want to mess this up -  he whispered. 

- You’re not messing anything up, Gee..- i calmed him, brushing a thumb over his flushed cheek - Just... keep going

That was all the encouragement he needed. He kissed me again, his hands moving with a little more certainty now, sliding beneath my bra to touch bare skin. I gasped, arching into his touch, and he let out a shaky breath, somewhere between a moan and a laugh.

When he finally got out of his clothes, struggling with his belt in the process,

 -  Stupid thing… -  he muttered  flustered and I couldn't stop smiling. 

He was trying so hard, and there was something endearing about how eager yet unsure he was.

He kissed me again, slower this time, savoring the moment as his hands trailed down to my thighs, spreading them gently. His boxers were the last to go, and when I felt him against me, the heat between us became impossible to ignore.

- I’ve dreamed about this, - Gerard admitted breathlessly, kissing the side of my neck. - About you... For so long.

I felt my body react to him instinctively, desire building with every brush of his skin against mine. When he paused, hovering just at the edge, his eyes searched mine one last time.

- Is this okay? -  he whispered, his voice low and full of both need and vulnerability.

- Yes,-  I breathed, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. - I want this, Gee.

And then, with a slow, careful thrust, his cock was inside me. I gasped, gripping his hair as my body adjusted to the sensation. The burn was sweet and overwhelming.

He started moving, hesitant at first, like he was still learning how to sync with me. But every time I moaned his name, he seemed to gain a little more confidence, his rhythm becoming more certain, more desperate.

The heat between us grew, the room filled with soft gasps and whispered encouragement. His hands roamed my body, one settling on my waist, the other cradling my face as if I were something precious. As deeper he was coming I felt the tension coil in my stomach, tighter and tighter, until I was teetering right on the edge. 

- I’m close…

- Do it, sugar, - he panted, his voice thick with need. - Cum for me.

With a final thrust, the pleasure crashed over me like a wave. I clenched around him, clinging to him, nails digging into his back as I moaned his name, lost in the intensity of it.

Gerard groaned, his movements faltering as he reached his own release. The warmth of the ropes of his cum filling me up pushed me deeper into my own bliss, and we stayed like that, tangled together, catching our breath.

He pressed a lazy kiss to my shoulder, his body still trembling slightly. 

- Wow… -  he whispered, sounding both dazed and amazed. - That was... better than any dream I’ve ever had.

I laughed softly, brushing damp hair from his forehead. 

- Yeah. Way better.

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~ sooo, that's it! Let me know if you liked! :)