#this fic still make me giddy it still make me do a silly leg wiggle

[todayisafridaynight]

puffer party inspo'd by the fact i've had this fic rotating in my head for the past week

[be-gay-do-heists]

OKAY finally finished with eliot hand pain hurt/comfort fic, and i couldn’t actually decide whether i preferred it in second or third person POV. this is the version with the third person POV, otherwise nothing is different from the other version !

------

Contrary to what the four crazy people he spent his time risking his life for nowadays thought, Eliot didn’t like the pain.

There was nothing cleansing about it, nothing satisfactory. A ringing hit to his jaw didn’t feel like penance. The actual protection aspect was a different story. Standing like a wall between your people and danger, there was nothing that made Eliot’s ribs ache with pleasure like that; a wall didn’t feel, didn’t think, it was just an immutable fact. He was an immutable fact. The problem was that the wall-as-Eliot, or perhaps the Eliot-as-wall, had to become human again sometime after the last man went down and the last dollar bill was stuffed into a duffel. To hurt was human, and not just to hurt but to remember the wound long, long after, for it to live in your knees and wrists and between the vertebrae in your spine. Some days— and this was a product of how long after a job it had been, how hard he had pushed—some days were worse than others. The fact that some days the first sound out of his mouth wasn’t even a groan, but a whine, or worse the half-awake pleading for please please make it stop i’ll do anything just make it stop—

No, Eliot didn’t like the pain.

Comparatively, today was a good day. Today, he could get out of bed. His head and body were blessedly in agreement that it was in his best interests to swing his twinging knees to the side of the mattress, push himself up onto legs that were sore but stable, with arms that shook only slightly. But compared to Eliot’s best days, the ones where except for the old shoulder injury which would never let him forget it and the scar on his hip that put a falter in his giddy-up in all kinds of weather, the days on which except for those he sometimes even forgot the pain, this didn’t hold a candle. Today his hands were so beat and weak that the ache radiated up to his mid-forearm, settled into him all familiar-like and made its home in him.

In the bathroom, Eliot used his wrist to turn on the faucet and stuck his mouth under the water to drink. Holding a cup was off the agenda. His morning routine was interspersed with winces, not unusual for his post-job bathroom adventures, and if it took Eliot longer to shimmy on the sweats he knew he wouldn’t be getting out of today, it made him appreciate the comfort of wearing them a little more.

Going handless was fine until he was face to face with the fridge, and resisting the urge to growl at it, like that would solve anything. Taking a deep breath, he put a hand on the stainless steel handle, testing his grip. A light flex had Eliot drawing it back like the metal had burned him, like someone had snapped a tight clothespin onto each ligament. He took a moment to pace a couple steps, let out a loud but cathartic expletive, and then wedge his hand between the handle and the door so he could open the fridge with his elbow strength. The feeling of triumph behind his collarbone faded quickly as the hitter scanned its contents and realized there was nothing he wanted to eat, or at least nothing he wanted to hold and eat. The thought of grasping a fork brought another growl to his throat, and he slammed the fridge door to stomp to the couch and throw himself down, cradling his hands in his lap.

Eliot knew the drill: in an hour, he would grit his teeth and get to up to try and fumble open his bottle of painkillers, and if he succeeded, he would wait another hour for them to truly kick in so he could handle the tv remote, put on whatever game was on, and vegetate on the couch until further notice. The phone he had left on the nightstand rang loudly, fully audible from the other room, blaring out the chorus to “Macho Man” that Hardison had put as his ringtone and Eliot hadn’t figured out how to get rid of yet. If it was important, whoever it was would call again, so he ignored it. His ire rose when the same noise sang out from the bedroom a couple minutes later, a bit-off groan escaping from his clenched teeth as he levered himself up to get to it as fast as he could, awkwardly accepting the call and maneuvering the phone between his shoulder and ear. “What?”

“Man, we haven’t heard from you since we split yesterday, I thought we were gonna get a beer downstairs last night?”

He rubbed his eyes with his wrist, frustrated that he had forgotten he was supposed to get together with Hardison the night before. Getting home, washing the sweat and blood off, and falling into bed had seemed like the only goal in his mind. “Look, sorry, I’ve been busy. And if this ain’t important, you—“

“Bullshit. Absolute bullshit, you’re using your tough-guy, bullshit voice. And you actually apologized, so something is double wrong.”

Eliot snarled. “I don’t have— Hardison, I don’t know what you’re talking about, just leave me alone.”

“Too late, we’re already at your place.”

Before he could open his mouth, his doorbell rang, drawing a groan from him. If he was correct about who the “we” was, it seemed silly to even ring it. His suspicions were confirmed thirty seconds later as the door clicked open anyways and Parker and Hardison came in, having the decency to at least look slightly sheepish. Eliot had already moved back to the couch, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” he growled.

“Excuse us for being worried about your wellbeing, Mr. Suffer-In-Silence,” Hardison scoffed.

Parker leapt onto the couch cushion next to him. “We thought you might have been captured by ninjas.”

“You would know if I had been captured by ninjas,” Eliot muttered. “It’s a very dis— look, you’ve seen that I’m not kidnapped, it’s our day off, can you please leave and let me rest.”

“You still owe us a hangout from last night!” Parker chirped. “Don’t worry, we won’t stay long.” She vaulted back over the couch to go rummage through his snack cabinets, getting into the granola bin by the sound of it. Eliot made a note to restock it before she came back next.

When he next opened his eyes, Hardison was lightly sitting on his coffee table, looking at the hands still resting in the hitter’s lap. “What’s up with your hands, Eliot?”

Eliot’s first instinct was to deflect. He trusted his team, sure, but this was different. They weren’t supposed to know that he had these days. That he wasn’t invulnerable. “Nothing’s wrong with them, stop sitting on my coffee table.”

“Mhm mhm, sure,” Hardison said. “Go like this for me?” He wiggled his fingers in a “hey sailor” kind of fashion. Before Eliot could tell him just what he thought about that, Parker’s ponytail swung into the side of his face, the thief reaching down to poke one of his hands faster than he could stop her.

By the time Eliot was able to refocus and pull himself back from the whiteout of pain, Parker and Hardison were looking at him with open concern, the hacker leaning back slightly, a little pale. Eliot thought he might have howled; he wasn’t sure. Both his hands were clenched tightly to his chest, wrists together, arms outward, wishbone shaped. He felt just as brittle as one, with their stares on him. He summoned the anger from his throat, the only weapon at his disposal (only half-expecting that it would work, always defenseless when it came to their prodding).

“Can you leave me the hell alone now?”

Hardison looked at him, taking his time formulating his thoughts, but it was Parker who spoke. “Nope.” Eliot turned to her where she was perched on the couch. “You get hurt taking care of us. Now you let us take care of you.”

Eliot looked at Hardison pleadingly, hoping he at least would take pity on him and let him wallow by himself. The hitter wanted to hide like the trap-escaped, half-dead badger whose den he had accidentally put his foot into half a lifetime ago in the Italian Alps, earning him an earful of hissing that scared the shit out of him. He wondered if he seemed as belligerent as that now.

Hardison just shrugged and smiled gently. “Hey, you heard the woman.” He leaned forward slightly, just enough in Eliot’s space to let him feel his warm presence without crowding. “Couldn’t get rid of us if you tried.”

He didn’t want to try, was the thing. It was only that it wasn’t their job to take care of him. It was his to take care of them. They just seemed to be wholly unaware of this.

“You taken anything for those yet?” Hardison asked, pointing at his hands. He hummed at Eliot’s slight head shake. “Thought so. Which ones?”

“White bottle, red pills. Only need a half,” Eliot mumbled, slouching. Parker was already up and heading to the bathroom.

“We need to get something you can actually open when this happens, some kind of spring-loaded catch maybe,” Hardison mused. “Alright, let me see them.” He patted his legs, frowning at Eliot’s growl. “C’mon, none of that. I know they hurt, I’ll be really, really gentle. I won’t even touch without asking.”

Eliot looked him in the eye for the sincerity he already knew would be there, the eagerness to help that (damn him) was one of his favorite traits of Hardison’s. Hesitantly, he extended his hands, rolling his eyes at the hacker scooting forward to offer his knees to rest them on.

“I assume you got antiseptic and ointment on these knuckles already, so totally disregarding those, even though it sucks. Nothing broken?”

“No, just. Aches. Like a son of a bitch. Can’t make a damn fist. Happens sometimes.”

Parker bounded back in, armed with a glass of water and half a pill in her open hand. “So no jobs for a while. Easy, I’ll tell Nate. Open up.” With a scowl, Eliot took the medication from her fingers with his teeth (gently, gently), and let her raise the glass to his lips, nearly choking as she tipped it a little eagerly, and choking for real when Hardison said, “Whoa, woman, let him swallow.”

“It’s not just the last job, Park, it’s jobs two years ago, or five, or ten,” Eliot managed, once he had his breath back. “Part of the package that comes with the lifestyle. It just happens sometimes, don’t matter what schedule we’re on.”

She frowned. “Still. We shouldn’t be doing jobs if you’re hurt. Nate should know that.”

Hardison leaned forward a little more while he was distracted trying to find the right response to that, that they wouldn’t be doing any jobs at all if that were the case, that Nate trusted him to get the job done no matter what, reaching out to his forearm and stopping just a hair’s breadth shy of touching. The hitter froze, and Hardison did too, meeting his eyes. “It’s ok. I’m just trying something out. Is it alright if I touch you here?” At his tiniest of nods, the hacker placed his fingertips on his arm, rubbing circles so lightly that Eliot almost couldn’t feel it. “Let me know where it starts to hurt, okay?” Hardison applied the slightest pressure as he added his other hand and lightly started rubbing down his forearm. When he got to his wrist, Eliot couldn’t help the strangled noise that partly escaped through his nose, high and strained. Hardison moved away from there immediately, going back to tracing soothing, gentle patterns. “You’re ok, you’re ok. I can work with this, no problem. Where do you keep your hot pads, man?”

“Bathroom, lower right drawer,” Eliot grit out. Parker was zipping off to get it and warm it up before he could even process. Hardison applied a little more pressure with his fingertips, rubbing the meat of his forearm. Eliot breathed out long and slow at how good it felt once the initial ache had ebbed.

“I want to try giving you a hand massage, but I don’t wanna hurt you more than it would help,” Hardison said, pausing slightly. “You up for it? I’m not gonna pressure you either way.”

Eliot’s thoughts stuttered, and then bolted in different directions. The feeling that he didn’t deserve this, that this was too much to ask, which had been simmering this whole time leapt to life again. It joined with the wounded, snarling animal part of him that still wanted to hide, burrow down with the covers over his head until his pain faded into the muted background noise of the world. He didn’t even know if a hand massage would work, might make the pain worse.

But it might be nice, a small, hopeful part of him murmured. Eliot couldn’t remember the last time he had been offered something like this, let alone the last time he had taken the person up. If there was anyone he trusted to do it, if there was anyone he wanted to receive it from, it was these two. How could he refuse them even he wasn’t fully on board with what they were suggesting?

“Sure, just…” Eliot said as Parker returned with the hot pad, pausing from tossing it hand to hand like a hot potato to fix her stare on him. He licked his lips, swallowed around a dry throat. “Just be gentle.”

“I will,” Hardison said earnestly, taking the hot pad from Parker to gently maneuver it under Eliot’s hands, resting on his knees. Eliot tensed slightly as the thief leapt up onto the back of the couch, perching above his head, but otherwise relaxed as the warmth of the hot pad started to loosen the ache in his hands. Hardison started where he had before, applying the slightest pressure to the hitter’s forearm. Parker ran her fingertips lightly through his hair, humming.

“Your hair is kinda wonky,” she said, fingers catching on a tangle. Eliot winced.

“That’s what happens when you go to bed without brushing it properly, you know that,” he grumbled, breath hitching as her fingertips grazed his scalp. His breath stuttered again as Hardison’s hands started working towards the sore meat of his wrist. Eliot’s hand began to shake.

“It’s ok baby, I got you,” Hardison murmured under his breath, more soothing sound than words. Eliot cracked open an eye to see him looking between his hands and his phone, playing a video where it was propped on his thigh.

“Man, are you watching hand massage tutorials right now?” he gritted out, doing a poor job of masking his genuine amusement with frustrated disbelief.

The hacker tapped his index finger against Eliot’s arm lightly. “I’ve been watching videos dude; think you’re so slick, tryna hide your hand pain from me. I just wanna make sure I get it right in real time.”

Parker’s fingers running through Eliot’s hair more boldly silenced any follow-up thoughts he had, mind going fuzzy with how good it felt. Without thinking, he insistently pushed his head up further into her touch, making her laugh. The sound reverberated in his chest, leaving him longing to hear it again. Instead a half-whine left his throat as Hardison probed the bottom of Eliot’s palm, the ache drawing him back to full awareness.

The hacker backed off for a moment. “Sorry, sorry. You still cool to keep going?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eliot breathed shakily.

“Just tell me if there’s anyplace else that needs to be handled more delicately, or you don’t want me going at all,” Hardison said, putting his clever hands to Eliot’s again and taking up his gentle, slow pace. Parker’s fingers had paused in his hair a second, but went back to running through it again, scratching his scalp on every other pass.

Slowly, slowly, the vice of pain on Eliot’s hands started to dissipate, bone by bone, finger by finger. He don’t know how long he sat there in a haze, as Hardison and Parker patiently touched him, fixated on the single task of caring for him. The thought made the tender space behind his breastbone twinge. When he surfaced from the half-asleep contentment of their efforts, the television was on, Star Trek playing at the lowest volume. Eliot grunted, lifting his head from the couch to look at the two of them sitting beside him, grinning at his movements. Hardison’s warm hand was still in his, but instead of massaging he was just holding it softly.

“Hey sleepy,” teased Parker, throwing herself over Hardison to get closer and forcing an “Oof!” out of him.

Eliot looked down to his hands, flexing one experimentally, in disbelief at how the ache had faded to an almost imperceptible hum. With the other he tightened his fingers around Hardison’s hand, moving his thumb lightly over his.

“Hey,” Eliot simply said back, a real smile rising to his lips.

[sleepdeprivedsloth]

Cold Foot

[MHA - Midoriya, Todoroki]

summary: Todoroki is caught walking around with a sock covering only one of his feet. Midoriya is determined to figure out the reasoning behind his unusual clothing choices. (platonic TodoDeku tickle fic)

potential warnings: tickling

words: 1.4 k

a/n: haha finally branching out into the dekusquad characters bc they are so sweet and i love them!! but yeah i hope you all enjoy reading this, much love <<33

--

The first time Todoroki walked out of his dorm room with a sock on only one of his feet, everyone thought it was just a silly oversight. It was still pretty early in the morning; maybe his brain just needed a bit more time to fully wake up and realize that he hadn’t exactly finished getting dressed.

The second time he was caught walking around half-barefoot, Todoroki received a few confused glances, but the majority of his peers chose to cut him some slack and let him be. It was a Saturday after all; maybe he was just too lazy to be bothered.

However, when his classmates passed through the common area and saw Todoroki lounging on the couch, both feet outstretched but only one wearing a plain white sock for the third time, they started to suspect that these occurrences weren’t accidental. Most had paused for a moment to take in Todoroki’s abnormal clothing choices, looking upon the scene with complete and utter confusion, but ultimately decided that it was best to just let the fire and ice hero-in-training do his own thing.

Not Midoriya though. Much like his peers, the green-haired boy had stopped and stared for a few seconds to internally ponder on the different possibilities as to why Todoroki chose to only cover up one foot, but it didn’t take long for his curiosity to inevitably get the better of him.

Midoriya casually made his way towards Todoroki and settled himself on the couch, sitting beside the intriguingly half-socked feet. Feeling the cushions shift from the added weight, Todoroki looked up from his phone and peered at Midoriya expectantly. “Can I help you with something, Midoriya?”

“Why are you wearing a sock on only one of your feet?” Midoriya promptly asked, as if he was anxiously waiting for his friend to acknowledge his presence. His green eyes subconsciously moved their curious gaze to the feet in question. “At first, I thought that the need to put on the other sock just slipped your mind, but you’re more attentive than that. You wouldn’t have missed something as simple as a missing sock. But then again-” Midoriya looked back up sheepishly as he stopped himself from going on a full-on rant, having to mentally refocus himself on the matter at hand. “A-anyways, I was just wondering why you only wear one sock, that’s all.”

Todoroki’s lips curled up slightly when Midoriya pulled himself out of his rambling. “Since the right side of my body can manipulate ice, my right foot doesn’t get cold like my left one does. There just simply is no need for me to wear a sock on that foot.”

And with that, Midoriya’s brain switched into research mode. He reached out and grabbed onto Todoroki’s right, unsocked foot, turning it around in his hands as he started inspecting it. “Huh, I never thought of it like that. But it does make sense, more so than the far-fetched theories that I had come up with..” 

In his peripheral vision, Midoriya saw Todoroki tense up, his nervous eyes trained on the foot that was trapped in Midoriya’s grasp. The green-haired boy could just barely make out the slightest hint of a giddy smile on his friend’s lips.

It didn’t take long for Midoriya to piece the subtle signs together. A mischievous glint flashed across his playful eyes as he set his new plan into motion. “Hey Todoroki, you wouldn’t mind if I were to experiment a bit with this new found information, right? It would be a great addition to my notes on your unique half and half quirk.”

Todoroki looked a bit uneasy at the thought of Midoriya performing hands-on research on him, but inevitably agreed. “Sure, I don’t mind.” He tried to relax himself and picked up his phone, resuming his mindless scrolling from before. Midoriya just wanted more accurate and detailed notes, that’s all. What was the worst that could happen?

“Great~” Midoriya laid a hand across Todoroki’s ankles, effectively pinning them down against the couch cushions. 

Todoroki’s head shot up to look at his trapped feet, eyes widening in surprise. “W-wait, Midoriya, what are you-”

“We already know that your fire side is more sensitive to the cold, but I wonder if it’s also more sensitive to touch…” Midoriya slowly dragged a finger down the length of Todoroki’s socked foot, starting just underneath his toes and traveling down to the heel. Up and down, over and over, again and again.

Todoroki choked on the laughter that was trying to force its way out of his throat as he instinctively tried to pull his feet away from the soft touches. Unfortunately for him, both feet were kept firmly in place by Midoriya’s strong hold. A small string of giggles escaped his lips when the torturous finger swiped against a particularly sensitive spot in the middle of his arch. “Nohohohoho! Midohohoriyahahaha!!”

Midoriya smiled at the sweet sound of his friend’s rare laughter, but he couldn’t break character just yet. “How does this feel? What would you rate the sensations on a scale from one to ten?”

With his mind being preoccupied with the soft, tickly feelings on his left foot, Todoroki genuinely couldn’t tell if Midoriya was purposefully teasing him or was just honestly curious about how much he could feel the sensations. Either way, the green-haired boy’s words caused a light blush to spread across his grinning face. “I dohohon’t knohow?”

Midoriya stopped the light tracing in favor of gently scribbling his five fingers against the socked sole. “How about now?”

Todoroki’s laughter raised an octave as his squirming became more desperate. “Ohokahahay okahahahay! Mahahahaybe a seheheven?”

“Hmm, interesting…” Midoriya momentarily stilled his fingers, allowing his friend a quick breather. “Let’s check your other foot now, shall we?”

A fresh wave of giddy panic flowed through Todoroki’s body. “Noho need! Haven’t yohou done enohough experimenting?” He started to lean forward and reach towards Midoriya, trying to grab ahold of his troublesome hands, but immediately fell back down the moment he felt fingers fluttering against his bare foot. “NOHOHOHOHO!!”

“Sorry, but we must compare the ratings of both feet to get the most accurate results,” Midoriya explained sympathetically, but both boys knew that he wasn’t really sorry. “Now, how would you rate the sensations on this foot?”

Todoroki tugged desperately at his feet, but Midoriya’s hold seemed unbreakable, especially since his own strength had been weakened from all of the squirming and laughing. He wrapped his arms tightly around his torso, as if to hold in the uncontrollable flow of laughter that left his face-splitting smile. “MIDOHOHOHORIYAHAHA PLEHEHEHEASE, IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES! LEHEHEHEHET GOHOHOHOHO!!”

“My research isn’t complete yet, Todoroki!” Midoriya wiggled his fingers in between Todoroki’s scrunched toes. The fire and ice student threw his head back, his roars of laughter becoming even more hysterical. Midoriya beamed fondly at the sight of his friend finally letting loose from his much-too-serious persona. “If you would just rate how this feels, it would all be over~”

“AHAHAHAHA TEHEHEHEN! IHIHIHIHIT’S AHAHAHA TEHEHEN! PLEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAHAP!!” Todoroki called out, eyes squeezed shut to prevent his mirthful tears from spilling onto his flushed cheeks.

Midoriya stopped his tickling and brought both arms back down into his lap, giving his friend’s feet the freedom to move. Todoroki instantly brought his legs against his heaving chest and wrapped his arms around them protectively, resting his head on top of his knees.

With a victorious smile, Midoriya exclaimed, “Based on all of the research you have so generously helped me gather, I can now confidently conclude that your ice foot is definitely more sensitive to touch than your fire foot!”

“That’s nohot exactly accurate,” Todoroki argued, mindlessly tracing along the veins in the top of his right foot with an index finger. “My ‘ice foot,’ as you like to call it, was unsocked during the whole experiment. So of course it was going to be more sensitive than my-” Todoroki caught his mistake too late as he cautiously brought his gaze back up to look at Midoriya’s reaction. To his dismay, he was immediately met with the same mischievous green eyes from before.

“You’re absolutely right, Todoroki!” Midoriya agreed, slowly inching himself closer to his classmate. “We just simply need more data and then-”

Todoroki didn’t waste another precious second. He instantly leaped off of the couch and bolted out of the common area towards the elevator, already giggling uncontrollably as he heard Midoriya’s teasing words not too far behind him.

--

a/n: thanks for reading everyone! ler midoriya is just *chef’s kiss* i love him okay? omg and when characters who don’t really smile much (cough cough todo and baku) genuinely laugh it is so cute i can’t!! lol anyways good night/day yall :)

[intheticklecloset]

Cuckoo For Cocoa Puffs (Free!)

Summary: While discussing favorite cereals, Makoto realizes Haru is holding out on him and so uses a playful interrogation method to get a straight answer out of his friend.

A/N: My very first Free tickle fic! I'm so excited to share it with you! I feel super silly about the title but we all know my history with titles so I'm just going to let it be, lol. I originally wrote this with lee Haru laughing much louder, but after giving it some thought I decided it would be more in character for him to laugh silently, so this is what I settled on. I feel good about it! Hope you enjoy it, too! ^^

Word Count: 1,064

@tastybluesprite

~~~

“Mackerel doesn’t count.”

“Mackerel is all I eat for breakfast.”

“It is now, but I know you used to have cereal sometimes growing up.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“You’re not that old!” Makoto grinned, rolling over on the couch to look down at Haru, who lay on the floor staring up at the ceiling. His blue eyes slid over to his friend. “Come on. Forget cereal for breakfast; just think about cereal in general. Which one’s the best?”

Haru blinked. “Are there any fish-shaped cereals?”

Makoto laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“I don’t eat cereal.”

“You should try it! It’s good.”

“Okay.”

The brunette waited a beat, then smirked at his friend. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I think the best cereal is?”

“Uh, sure. What’s the best cereal, Makoto?”

“Cinnamon Toast Crunch.”

Haru frowned, then glanced away. “If you say so.”

“You can’t judge me when you won’t give me an answer yourself.”

“Whatever.”

Makoto reached down to poke his stomach. “Do you have an opinion on the matter after all, Haruka?”

Haru batted his hand away. “I thought we agreed not to call me that.”

“Then maybe you should stop being so stubborn about giving me an answer.” Makoto chuckled, an idea sparking in the back of his mind as he poked his friend again, wiggling his finger on purpose this time. “Just tell me.”

Haru rolled away from him onto his stomach, grunting. “Knock it off.”

Instead, Makoto quickly descended from the couch and sat on his friend’s lower back, skittering his fingers rapidly along his back and shoulders. “I know you have a favorite cereal. What is it? Tell me.”

“H-Hey! Stop!” Haru protested, squirming. He wasn’t really reacting beyond that, but Makoto knew he’d break eventually. It was just a matter of keeping it up. The ravenette made a choking kind of noise when the taller boy started jabbing his fingers into the backs of his ribs. “Makoto!”

Makoto merely grinned, reaching under his shirt to dig purposefully into his ribs from behind. “Tell me, or I’ll tickle it out of you.”

Haru’s eyes snapped up to him in a brief panic. The usually stoic swimmer was well aware that Makoto knew he was ticklish enough for it to be a viable interrogation method, but still. He didn’t want to crumble right away just from the threat of it. He tried clamping his arms to his sides. “Don’t!”

“All right, you asked for it.” Makoto grinned, switching from digging to light scribbling, and Haru shuddered beneath him, burying his face in the carpeted floor to try and muffle his giggles as they slipped out of him beyond his control. “Jeez, you’re so stubborn, Haruka. All you have to do is tell me your favorite cereal.”

“I don’t eat cereal,” Haru tried, letting out a squeal that made his cheeks instantly turn a dark shade of embarrassed red. “Stohohop it!”

“See, I like Cinnamon Toast Crunch because it’s so sugary,” Makoto replied as though he hadn’t heard the giggly plea. “I know it’s not super healthy but I only eat it in the off season. I have to imagine you’d probably be a Honey Nut Cheerios person, or maybe a Fruity Pebbles kind of guy if you’re secretly pretty bold.”

“Mahahahakoto!” Haru cackled, giggles becoming soft laughter the more his friend focused on that incessant, light scribbling across his second worst spot. “Stohohohohohop!”

“I wonder what Nagisa and Rei would imagine your cereal choice to be. I should have them guess once I’ve gotten an answer out of you.” Makoto smiled at his increasingly flustered friend. “Feel like talking yet?”

“Stohohohohohohop!”

“All right, guess I gotta bring out the big guns.” The brunette let up on his tickling and shimmied down Haru’s body to straddle his calves instead, pinning his legs to the floor. He glanced behind him just briefly to get an idea of where his feet were, then began scratching ruthlessly at the bare soles, watching in satisfaction as his normally silent friend absolutely shrieked with giggles.

“Ehehehehehehehehe! Nohohohohohoho, Mahahahahahakoto!” Haru pounded the carpet with his fists, laughing quietly but uncontrollably, unable to even wiggle his feet away thanks to the position he was in. He tried rolling over but could only flail uselessly, and seeing that triumphant smirk on his friend’s face was not helping this tickle any less. “Stohohohohohohohohop it!”

“Favorite cereal, Haru. Tell me.”

“I dohohohohohon’t eat cehehehehehereal! Plehehehehehehehease!”

“Lying won’t get you out of this situation, I’m afraid. Better talk before I go for the toes.”

Haru yelped, then slapped a hand over his mouth. “Nonono not the tohohohohohoes!”

Makoto grinned, his friend’s unique brand of hysterics making him feel giddy as well. Haru was quiet in all respects – even in his laughter, which never rose above a low chuckling even when his worst spot was being tickled mercilessly like this. The brunette knew that it was still unbearable, however, and that continuing at this pace should break him in another minute or so.

Sure enough, just a few seconds later, Haru was giggling his defeat. “Okahahahahahay, okay, fine! It’s Cocoa Puhuhuhuhuhuhuffs! Cocoa Puffs! Please, stohohohohohop!”

Makoto laughed. “You like Cocoa Puffs?! No way! Say you're cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs!"

“Stop tihihihihihickling mehehehehe!”

“Say it!” Makoto demanded, grinning. Oh, how he wished he’d gotten his phone out for this.

Haru’s cheeks and ears turned a dark shade of red as he squealed into the carpet, “I-I’m cuckoo for Cocohohohohoa Puffs! Plehehehease – Makoto, please, no mohohohohohohore!”

Finally the brunette let up, laughing himself at how cute Haru was being. He couldn’t believe he’d actually gotten him to say it! “That was great, Haru! Man, you must be more ticklish than I thought you were!”

“That was mean,” the ravenette muttered into the ground, covering his head with his arm. “Stop laughing at me. You wouldn’t stop until I said it.”

Makoto’s giggles died down, but his smile stayed in place. “Hey, you know I wasn’t trying to be mean. I just never hear you laugh, you know? It’s addicting. I wanted to draw it out as long as I could.”

“Whatever.”

“Don’t you ‘whatever’ me. I’ll tickle you again if I have to.”

Haru squeaked, scrambling away from his friend in a hurry, shooting a nervous smile over his shoulder. “Don’t!”

Makoto smirked, wiggling his fingers playfully. “Why don’t we discuss dessert next?”

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Mermaid - Inked Up Idiots

I got hung up on a different fic so I decided we needed some cute as fuck family shit for the tattoo AU. I missed these stupid fuckers. Mkay so my headcanon is that ciri has a hard time saying their names so she calls Geralt ‘Uncle Bear’ bc the girls call him Ger Bear, and she calls Jaskier ‘Uncle Ask’ bc her tiny little mouth cant do all those funny syllables yet. Hell I have a hard time with it sometimes. 

Warnings: i dont think theres any? its family fluff? i honestly dont even think i swore in this one??? who am I?

____________

Geralt opened the door with what looked like Crayola markers on his face and a warning, “They’re both asleep, I couldn’t bear to wake them.”

Yen gave him a look of disapproval but followed him down the hall to the living room, “She has gymnastics in two hours. You’re telling me I have to get food in her and wake her- oh my god.” Yen covered the adoring smile spreading across her face as Geralt motioned to the couch. 

Jaskier and little Ciri were out cold. Jaskier’s leg was hanging off the side and one arm was stretched up over his head of absolutely wild hair - Ciri had it in several small ponytails. Ciri was laying over his chest, her tiny toddler body fitting on his torso like a custom made bed. Her cheeks were rosy with sleep and her little fist clutched at the collar of Jaskier’s shirt as she snored away. One of his hands laid over her back, looking rather massive over such a delicate little thing. 

“I don’t have the heart,” Geralt shrugged, pointing to the other couch, “But I did pack all her things.” 

Yennefer sighed, “McDonald’s wont kill her every now and then…” 

Geralt hoisted the little overnight bag over his shoulder as Yen leaned down to unstick a lock of hair from Ciri’s face, “Morning, Silly One. Time to get up.” 

Jaskier lifted his head, looking around in confusion, but Ciri still didn’t stir. 

“Oh, hey Yen.” 

She chuckled and plucked the tiny brightly colored scrunchies out of his hair, “Hey, you. Sleep well?” 

“Mm! Quite comfortably actually. Oh, If she asks about face masks, I just smeared some foundation on her nose to make her feel included. We were doing pore strips.” Jaskier wiggled his nose as Yen peeled Ciri off his chest. 

She finally started to stir when Yen had her upright, “Mumma?” 

Yen kissed her forehead as she wiped at her eyes, “Right here, Ciri. Geralt did a pore strip?” She snickered, crossing over to him to take Ciri’s bag. 

“He lied. He said it wouldn’t hurt.” Geralt explained, sending an accusatory look toward his husband. 

Ciri laid her head on Yen’s shoulder with a sleepy smile, “Uncle Bear cried.”

Geralt rolled his eyes despite his fond smile, “And you,” he tickled her sides while he spoke, “giggled the whole time. Didn’t you?” 

She squealed and nodded, now completely awake. 

Yen glanced at Geralt’s arms and smirked, “Looks like you’ve been working on your art too.” 

Ciri beamed with pride as they all migrated to the front door, “Bear! Your leg!”

Geralt smiled and hiked up the leg of his sweatpants, showing off the very brightly colored mermaid covering his calf and ankle while Ciri rattled on, “I got tired coloring monsters so Uncle Ask drew me a mermaid.” 

“It’s very pretty, love!” Yen practically sang. 

“She wanted to be like Mumma.” Jask added, “No coloring book would do.” 

Yen bit her bottom lip and positively glowed with pride, “Thanks guys. We’ll see you at dinner tomorrow?”

Jask nodded as he saw them out the door, “Tell my favorite receptionist I miss and love her.” 

-

An hour and two cups of strong coffee later, Geralt and Jaskier lounged on the couch, eying the mess Ciri had left in her wake warily, but ignoring it in solidarity for the moment. 

“J?”

“Yes, darling?” 

Geralt picked a craft sparkle off his husband’s nose as he spoke, “I know you said you won’t tattoo me anymore-”

“-because you cry and whine and it makes me feel far too guilty. No.” 

“-but hear me out,” Geralt continued, “Will you do it for Ciri?”

Jaskier pushed off his chest and gave him a skeptical glare, “What do you mean?” 

“I want to get the mermaid tattooed there. For her.”

“Are you being impulsive?” Jaskier sputtered, a delighted grin on his face. 

Geralt raised his eyebrows, “I got a tattoo on our first date.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and gave him a quick peck before he hopped up, “That doesn’t count. You’d thought about it before. This,” He motioned to Geralt’s calf like Vanna White, “is true Stupid Tattoo Addict behavior. And I love it.” He skipped to the front door and grabbed his keys. 

“Where are you going?” 

“WE are going to the studio! Come on!”

Geralt scrambled off the couch to wrap an arm around his husband’s waist and pull him close, “I didn’t mean now. We haven’t even had breakfast,” he laughed. 

“Put on your shoes. We’ll stop by the bakery on the way in.” Jaskier insisted, laying his hands over Geralt’s chest and looking up at him with unbridled glee.

 Geralt couldn’t help but feel a little giddy too, “Alright. But let’s put the numbing cream on now so it has time to work.” 

Jaskier patted his cheek and kissed his nose before darting back into the house, “Good idea, love. Don’t want anymore Bear tears.” 

[writer-ish]

makai

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Dr. Brooke Spiers) Word Count: 3.4k Rating: 18+ (NSFW - minors dni) Author's Note: makai (mah-kigh) - one of the four key directions on Oahu, but used on all Hawaiian Islands; makai means "toward the ocean".

Premise: A follow-up fic to this text exchange. Ethan and Brooke meet for a little pre-planned Hawaiian rendezvous.

Hey, I’m here. Where you at?

Brooke taps out the message on her cell phone, keeping one eye on the almost-empty lobby.

It's late now - late for check-in, late for milling around, late, it seems, for Hawaii itself - and she'd be lying to herself if she said she wasn't feeling a bit sleepy—a bit like, maybe, she should be getting up for a six AM shift in Boston after having gotten a good seven hours of sleep the night before?

Rather than waiting for her elderly boyfriend to meet her for a late-night swim - and a little more, hopefully - after sleeping a total of five half-lucid hours on an airplane in the last twenty-four hour period.

She's about to text him again, when she hears a voice from behind her.

"Christ, enough with the texting already."

Whirling around, she can't help the grin that splits her cheeks at the sight of him. Without responding, she throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him in an impromptu hug. His hair is a little damp and appears freshly washed and there's the sharp, pleasant, and familiar smell of his cologne that she inhales when she presses her body to his.

He seems almost nonplussed at her public and spontaneous affection, his arms staying at his sides for a beat longer than they should, before he returns her embrace. She giggles as he even takes her for a half spin, kissing her neck before setting her down, hands lingering at her hips.

"Well, aren't you in a good mood," he comments, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

She shrugs, giving him a cheeky grin. "It's nice to see you. Plus," she adds, taking his hand and interlocking her fingers with his as she starts to walk, "I'm in vacation mode, so you're going to a get a much better version of me for the next few days."

He allows her to lead him out of the lobby and to the stone pathway that will eventually take them down to the beach.

"I like the version I get at home," he remarks once they're in the open air, which smells like hibiscus and coconut and the reminiscent warmth of the sun still emanating from the stones.

As they walk, he tugs her closer and puts his arm over her shoulders. She smiles up at him as she wraps her arm around his waist. He returns it, staring down at her with an inscrutable look, but one that causes a bloom of warmth to start in her chest and work its way outwards.

"It's nice to be somewhere different, though." Resting her head on his shoulder, they continue to amble down the path. "I like us at home, too, but…" She trails off with a shrug. "We work a lot. And don't see each other outside of work enough. I mean, I thought with you suspended I'd at least get a date night, then you had to go and get your freaking job back!"

He throws his head back and laughs, a loud, head-shaking, self-deprecating thing.

"Oh god, I've really done you wrong, haven't I?"

"Yes!" she insists, though she can't stop her own giggles. "Not even a dinner out. Our first movie in months was on the private jet that Vik got me."

Ethan rubs his chin thoughtfully. "I haven't gotten you a private jet yet?"

"Nope." Her hair tosses against her cheeks as she shakes her head, unable to keep the smile off her face. She loves teasing him, she loves being away with him, she loves—she cuts her thoughts short and focuses on their banter. "For shame, sir."

He glances at her and she sees the heat in his gaze as she calls him "sir". She bites her lip and looks up at him innocently. His eyes go from hers down to her lip in an instant and she laughs again.

"You're like one of Pavlov's dogs, I swear." Breaking free from him, she jogs lightly ahead of him down the path, her sandals slapping the pavement with her movements. "Anyway, your old bones are slowing me down. Keep up!" She takes off towards the beach, her sundress whipping around her legs, even as she can hear his bit off curse from behind her.

"I'm not running!" he calls, his voice growing distant as she puts more space between them.

"Your loss!" she yells over her shoulder, before turning around and jogging backwards to tease him even more. She screams as she sees him gaining speed quickly and her shrieks turn into hysterical giggles as he ducks down and lifts her effortlessly over his shoulder, continuing on without breaking his stride.

She buries her face in the thin cotton of his shirt so that she doesn’t wake up all the other sleepy inhabitants of their resort with her giddy snorts, especially when he playfully smacks her butt as he carries her steadily to the beach. Soon, she feels his steps change as his feet sink into the soft sand.

"Wow." His voice is soft and, even though it's coming from somewhere near her rump, it still carries over to where she is, hanging securely off his shoulder.

"I want to see!" She squirms and he grips her bottom, holding her still as he reaches up with his other hand. She feels him wriggle his finger under the heel strap of her sandals and she stills, waiting as he removes first one and then the other. Leaning forward, he places her down gently and she immediately wiggles her toes in the warm, fine sand before whirling around to take in the view.

"Oh, wow," she breathes as well, because truly there isn't another word for it.

The moonlight reflects off the dark surface of the waves, illuminating the gentle ebb and flow of the tide. Dark shadows on the horizon appear to be mountains or something in the distance - she hadn't had a chance to check out the beach in the daytime upon their arrival, so she's just seeing it now for the first time, perhaps not in all its colourful splendour, but still, majestic and beautiful in its own right.

And the stars - Brooke can't remember the last time she'd seen so many of them. They sparkle in the inky blue firmament like someone had tossed an infinity of tiny diamonds on a velvet tray. She breathes in the salty sweet air deeply as her and Ethan take in the view together, silently, for a moment.

"Thank you for asking me to come here with you," Ethan says quietly, eyes still on the sea and the sky. "I didn't realize how much I needed this… this quiet beauty. This moment of serenity."

She quirks a smile at him, taking his hand in hers. He looks down at their intertwined fingers and then back up at her face, his eyes warm and soft, the pale blue glistening in the moonlight.

"I did," she tells him simply with a little shrug, still smiling up at him.

He looks at her for another beat, his eyes conveying a message that only her heart understands, then he turns to her, stroking her cheek softly with his knuckles, before leaning in to place a soft kiss on her lips.

She cups his cheeks in her hands and returns it, keeping it soft, sweet, open-mouthed and warm. After a moment, she pulls back and looks up at him, the smile back on her face. It’s silly, but it almost feels like a permanent fixture tonight; one she can't get rid of even if she tries.

He’s watching her again, eyes heavy and heated, even in the glowing light of the moon. He slides his thumbs over her cheekbones in a light caress. "Brooke, I—"

Even though they’ve gone down this road many times before - the incomplete sentences, the longing looks, the words that are felt but not said - Brooke still feels her breath catch and her heart rate increase as she waits.

They stay suspended like that for a moment, the waves and the moon their only companions, when suddenly the call of a night bird, tropical and unfamiliar, breaks them from their reverie.

Ethan looks up and Brooke looks away, disappointed - though not surprised - that the moment got away from them again without any new revelations.

“Looks like we have company,” Ethan remarks, his voice carefully composed, even as he pulls her closer, rubbing her bare arms with his hands.

“Well,” Brooke replies, still determined to make this a good night, “as long as our only company is avian...” She pulls away from him, reaching up and teasing at the straps of her sundress. “What do you say we go for a swim?”

Biting back a smirk, he looks back and forth across the long expanse of beach. Her gaze follows his, ensuring along with him that they truly are alone. As much as she thrives on the spontaneity of a moment like this, she'd rather not have any of their colleagues - or any guest for that matter - see her naked. Which is exactly what she plans on being in due course.

“Looks pretty quiet.” His gaze locks in on hers again. “No?”

She nods, teeth catching at her bottom lip as she slowly backs up towards the water, pulling the straps of her dress down to fall on her upper arms. “Indeed it does, Dr Ramsey.” She pulls one arm out and then the other, leaving the dress clinging to the tops of her breasts. She continues to step backwards until her feet hit the shoreline, warm, frothy waves caressing her ankles. She laughs in delight and looks down, sliding around in the wet sand.

Ethan is closing in on her, his shirt already off. She sees he’s holding her sandals and his shoes in one hand, shirt slung over his arm.

“How’s the water?” he asks, though his eyes are still on the beach, as though he’s looking for something.

When she realizes his apparent destination, she can't help but shake her head fondly - he's walked over to one of the resort chairs, stacked up neatly for the evening, and is placing their shoes and his shirt on the pile.

Heaven forbid they get sand on them, she thinks, unable to stop the swell of affection she feels for her fastidious man.

Making her way over to him, she shimmies the dress up and over her head.

“Space for one more thing?” she asks innocently waiting for him to turn to look at her.

When he does, she gets immediate gratification at his dumbstruck look.

She had foregone a bra completely, so she watches as he takes her in from head to toe, nipples already stiffening in the exposed night air and under his gaze. She'd also pulled out the "special occasion" underwear, a lacy, boy-cut confection that she knew he'd appreciate.

And by the look in his eyes, he seems very appreciative.

Smiling cheekily, she shimmies down the underwear as well, tossing it to him before wading further into the water.

For all her bravado, standing stark naked on a public beach for longer than thirty seconds stretches the limits of her comfort, so it feels nice to seek both warmth and privacy in the languid tropical waves.

She had almost been worried that the water would be cold, but instead it's the perfect temperature - just nice enough to submerge herself in without feeling like she's entering a frigid bath. She wades out a bit deeper until the water just skims the top of her breasts and she turns in time to see Ethan entering the water.

Her heart picks up speed as she admires him, his naked, muscular body limned by the moonlight, walking into the ocean like some sort of reverse Poseidon, his eyes fixated on her and her alone.

Brooke shivers in a way that has nothing to do with water temperature, goosebumps lifting the fine hairs on her arms as she waits for him to get to her. The anticipation is sweet, but not as sweet as seeing him up close, smiling down at her as he collects her in his arms.

Their naked bodies slide together and she instinctively wraps her legs around his waist, feeling his arousal at the crux of her body. She kisses his neck, his jaw, his cheek, as his hands glide down to her bottom to lift her higher.

"This is nice," she murmurs, twining her arms tighter around his neck.

He hums in agreement, stroking her back up and down with one hand as they quietly watch the moon ripple on the horizon.

"I love touching you like this." He presses a kisses to her shoulder, squeezes her tighter. "If I could keep you this way, naked, pressed up against me, your skin on mine—if I could hold you like this forever, I would do it."

"Might be difficult to get work done." Her response is flippant, but his words have struck a chord deep inside her and her heart twangs painfully at the implications.

He snorts. "I don't care. Who needs work."

She pulls back to look at him, affecting a look of shock. "I'm sorry, who are you, and what have you done with Dr. Ethan Ramsey?"

He shakes his head, burying his face in her neck. When he speaks again, his words are muffled against her skin. "Dr. Ramsey has learned more in the past three years than in any of the previous years combined." He pulls back to look at her, one hand still holding her against him securely, the other pushing her damp waves back from her face. "Learned and grown and just—" He shakes his head before continuing. "Just tried to be better. To do better. Thanks to you." He kisses her and she can taste the salt on his lips.

"I can't take all the credit," she whispers against his mouth as they pull apart after a beat.

"Why not?" he whispers back, pressing another salty kiss to her lips. "You do it all the time at work anyway."

"Hey—!" She pulls away indignantly. "It's not my fault I’m the only one who can actually solve our cases—"

He laughs loudly and spins her around, making her lose track of her indignation as she dissolves into helpless giggles.

The warm water swirls over their bodies and she tightens her arms and legs around him. Her giggles inadvertently turn into a soft moan as she feels him, hard against her centre, settled right between her spread legs.

He tucks a kiss below her ear, nipping lightly at her pulse. "I want you so bad," he murmurs, sucking gently on the spot where he bit.

"So what are you waiting for," she breathes, her head lolling back as her hips move restlessly, her body stroking wetly against his length.

"Not in here," he groans, "the bacteria—not good for your—" He grunts as she presses more tightly against him, continuing to rub intimately in a way that has them both moaning.

"Have I ever told you—" She gasps, her breath coming out in short pants. "—how hot it is when you say the word 'bacteria' during sex?"

His response is a muffled groan into her shoulder as her jerky movements become more frantic, chasing the climax that has been inevitable since the first touch of salt water on her bare skin.

It's an odd sensation, the languid warmth of the ocean surrounding them while a different, more intimate, kind of wetness grows between. She misses the feel of him inside her during a moment like this, but there is something strangely, captivatingly erotic about making love this way. Their bodies sliding together in a new sort of intimacy, his rigid heat captured between her velvety folds.

“Ethan, I—” Her voice catches and his fingers tighten on her bottom, holding her to him in a way that hits that exact spot she needs it to. "Ah—ah!" She feels her muscles clench as a wave of pleasure crests…then crashes down over her. She lets out a moan, throwing her head back, the movement lifting her half out the water. Her nipples hit the cooler night air as her breasts emerge from the sea, and the feel of it in contrast to her climax sends prickles of sensation across her skin.

Ethan ducks down, kissing between her breasts as his hips jerk and finally still. He lets out a long groan through clenched teeth and she feels a bloom of warmth between them as she holds his head tightly against her chest. She can feel her heart pounding and his heartbeats echo hers from where his chest is pressed, closer to her stomach.

They hold each other for a protracted beat, the only sounds the crashing waves and their ragged breaths.

"Would you consider that," she finally says, still slightly breathless, "acceptable for my pH balance?"

He snickers deeply into her skin as he wraps his arms around her tighter before releasing her slowly. She allows her body to dip back and float leisurely on the bobbing waves. Letting out a contented sigh, she looks up at the stars, her eyes catching on a streak of light separate from the rest.

"Look!" She sits up quickly and grabs Ethan's arm, pointing at the sky.

He looks up as well and they watch as two, three stars make a quick descent from their position, a trail of sparkles in their wake.

"I've never seen a shooting star," she breathes, mesmerized.

He doesn't reply, so after a minute she glances over at him. He's staring at her, a soft smile tilting the corners of his lips. She can't see his face that well, even in the bright glow of an almost-full moon, but she recognizes the gentleness in his expression, the curve of his cheek as the shadow of a dimple barely appears.

She loves him so much.

She loves him so much that her heart aches with it, like a balloon that's about to pop or a cup that's overflowing.

She loves him for all his flaws, for all his hubris, for the ways he tries to be so good, and for all the ways he fails.

Her eyes well up as she looks at him, the words yearning to tumble from her lips. To tell him that she's always on his side. That he's hers, no matter what. There's no one else and there never will be.

That this is it, for her.

Instead she smiles back at him, albeit a little tremulously, and she leans forward, pushing off with her feet as she wades back to the shore.

He follows her quietly and they dress quickly, clothes awkward and difficult to tug onto their still-wet bodies.

As she grabs her sandals and goes to walk, he grabs her hand to stop her and pulls her into his arms.

They stand there for a bit, quiet and still, and Brooke feels all the little moments that have brought them here swirling around them in a hopeful nostalgia; the promise of things to come, built on a foundation of what they've surpassed.

"Time to sleep?" She looks up at the rumbling sound of his voice, blinking her eyes tiredly without even having realized just how tired she was.

"Mmm," she agrees, pulling away. "Your room or mine?"

He looks askance at her and she groans good-naturedly. "Fine, we'll be good. But see if you last more than one night without me. Just see!" She pokes his shoulder and grins at him and he catches her hand and holds it tightly against his chest, over his heart.

"Meet me for coffee tomorrow morning?" He brings her hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to the palm. "Hawaii has the best—"

"Yes, yes, I know, you talked my ear off about it on the plane, I remember." She shakes her head. "You're so boring I literally don't know how I stand you."

He grins at her and shrugs good-naturedly as they begin the slow walk back to the resort. "I try not to tempt fate too often by asking that very same question."

"Probably for the best." She tilts her head onto him and he drapes his arm around her shoulders. They meander down the path, away from the ocean, in comfortable silence.

She knows, deep down, how he feels about her. And if the final show of her loyalty to him is for her to wait until he's ready to tell her, well, then—

She'll wait.

[sunjaesol]

♡ IT HAD TO BE YOU, WONDERFUL YOU ♡

canon compliant juke valentine’s day fic ♡ for all you sweethearts in the fandom

Before hopeless romantic Julie Molina fell in love with Luke Patterson, she always felt glum on Valentine’s Day. She tortured herself with romcoms leading up to the holiday, went into the “couples goals” tag on Pinterest, pouted when her crushes she never talked to dated other people (read: Nick) and felt all around envious of those having a lover to spend the day with. Her mother dying, she who held the biggest heart of all, also didn’t help her mood.   

But that was before Luke blasted himself into her life. Sure, their romance was a little unorthodox, but predictability was overrated anyway.

They got together last summer, when the band played an amazing gig at a tiki bar on the beach and they were drunk on the heat, pink lemonade and each other’s adoring gazes. Dancing on the beach with him and the boys, Luke had grabbed her in his embrace and whispered lyrics at her she’s never heard before. His fingers grazed her jaw when he said it was a love letter - “For you, Jules.” She didn’t have to go far to reach his lips, both eager and giddy to finally come home.

(Weeks later, the love letter was transposed to music and performed for an audience. It was full circle moment. He loved music and her and now it was all connected. Luke had been dazed, but Julie was quick to kiss the stupor away. They could do that now. It was insane.) 

All week, Julie had been working on a secret gift. She scoured her room was scraps and pictures and notes; reminders of Luke hidden in every corner without realising it. A purple pick was found under her bed, a song in her dream box they never got to finish, a seashell he plucked from the beach, a row of pictures from a photo booth, love notes. Julie would lie if she said she didn’t find it adorable how his only reference of romance were the 80s flicks, as it gave her a heartthrob of a boyfriend that didn’t back down from cute gestures like those notes. It left her heart racing and brought a blush on her cheekbones. the sun’s jealous of that smile jules

It was only natural she made him a collage. 

They had an unspoken agreement to never involve money. Though they were in a band together, all the money they made directly went to Julie. She invested it back in their life passion, obviously, but the fact remained that Luke couldn’t take her on typical dates or buy her the typical gifts. Until American Ghost Dollars got invented, they had to be creative. 

Going to the movies were movie nights in the studio with a projector and cookies they made together. A love song instead of dinner. Dancing in her bedroom with AirPods instead of partying.     

And it was enough. It was more than enough. She loved him so much that each second spend together was perfect as is. 

The collage was small enough that he could easily tuck it away. Pictures overlapped, a dozen Mini Luke’s and Mini Julie’s staring at the camera or each other, from before and after they started dating. 

A photo Flynn took of Luke peppering her temple with kisses backstage. A polaroid of when she snuck up on him and smacked a kiss on his cheek, his teeth flashing white from the beam on his face. A Snapchat of when she showed him the filters and he kissed her instead. Multiple pictures of them snuggling on the studio couch, supposed ‘blackmail’ for Alex, but Julie cherished them. If she closed her eyes, she could feel his arms wrap around her back as she’s sprawled on top of him.

The pretty shell didn’t fit on the collage, so she decided to make a bracelet as well. A thick band made from orange, red and yellow string, the shell as its penchant. 

That morning, she pulled on her most Valentine’s day inspired outfit and rushed to the studio. Her gifts were still in her room, out of sight and kept for later, now she just wanted to see her boyfriend. 

Her smile, painted in cherry lipgloss, stretched wider when she slid the doors open and saw that no one was inside. Just last night had he kissed her a little longer after rehearsal, wiggling his brows like he knew something she didn’t. Luke was terrible at keeping secrets. She wasn’t surprised to find it empty, unless…

Luke poofed in front of her with a warrior cry and hoisted her up in one fluid motion. Julie yelled in delight, gripping onto him as he spun them around. For the occasion, he swapped his regular orange beanie for a red one. (One day, her heart was going to explode from all the silly stuff he did.) Matching her expression, his hands steadied her as she wrapped her legs around his waist.    

An index finger flicked his chin playfully. “How long did it take you to plan this?”

He gasped, faux-offended. “Julie! I’m spontaneous as shit.”

“Mh-hm,” she hummed, leaning in to kiss his lips. His frown melted away, the languid kiss flickering with the hint of passion it usually held. Slowly, he set her down, her staying locked between his arms. When she pulled back, he chased after her and pecked the side of her mouth - once, twice.    

“I’m gonna smother you with so much kisses that you’re gonna get sick of me,” he declared, as if the threat of loving her was scary. 

She pressed her forehead against his with a grin. “I look forward to it.”

Instantly keeping up his promise, he nuzzled against her cheek. “What’d you wanna do?”

“Well, we’re ending the day in the hammock.”

“Duh.”

“And,” she sneakily added, “we can be really cheesy and watch ‘Valentine’s Day’.”

He made a face, both remembering their divided opinion on the movie. “If we’re seeing it again, then I’m choosing all the snacks.”

“Deal.”

“Nice,” he breathed, raising his fist between their torsos so she could bump it with her own. Her cheeks were already aching from smiling so much, giddy to spend the entire day with her boyfriend undisturbed by the boys or family or school. 

Her fingers scratched into his plaid jacket. “You know what I’m also looking forward to?” His eyes narrowed at her lilting voice. “Giving you your present.”

His jaw fell slack. “Jules, now I’m gonna be thinking about it all day.” But then she saw the devilish glint in the green of his irises as he uttered: “Guess you’ll have to wait on your present too.”

“You-” That was unexpected. “You have a present?”

Luke bit down on his lip, watching her surprise. “I was waiting for that reaction. Sweet. Okay, I’m saying we dip everything in chocolate. Fruit, popcorn-”

“I’m willing to try one of those crazy combinations you love so much,” she proposed. The excited smooch she got afterwards was worth it.

The couple claimed the kitchen for an hour as they made their snacks, most of which being the typical chocolate covered strawberries both liked a lot, and then nestled themselves in her room. Curled into his warm body, they shared earphones as they watched ‘Valentine’s Day’. Though she asked to watch it, all her attention went to his hands continuously caressing her waist and thigh. It lulled her into a blissful trance. Sometimes he would make a joke (“We’re way cooler than Taylor and Taylor!”) and she’d chuckle and hum and rub his chest. By the time Jessica Biel was smashing the piñata, she was placing soft kisses on his neck and he had to pause the movie. 

Hovering over her with a wolfish grin, he pecked her nose. “I thought you wanted to watch.”

“And I thought you were going to smother me with kisses,” she bounced back with a quirked brow. For a beat, they shared an amused look. 

Then Luke laughed, diving for her lips and doing just that. That rushing feeling coursed through her veins, a pure shot of adoration and attraction with each warm, open-mouthed kiss. He tasted like chocolate, skin sticky from fruit, and smelled in that perfectly boyish way. Julie sighed into the kiss. No cheesy movie or love song could compete with the sensation of slipping her fingers in his hair and having his arms tighten like he never wanted her to stop. Her bedroom was heaven on earth.   

(Perhaps that was silly. She was only seventeen after all. How much did she actually know about the world to accurately make that statement? But did it even matter if right now, right here, she felt like the luckiest girl in the universe? The cynics could bite her.) 

She didn’t know how long they let their lips and hands wander. It was hard to care about time when his mouth was on her ear and her nails drew shapes on his back. 

“I bet,” he whispered, “Taylor and Taylor never felt like this.”

She giggled. “You’re just jealous of the big teddy bear.”

His smile pressed on her cheek. “Maybe.”

When Luke and her first got together, they were scared to touch. Sure, they had their moment on the beach and previously, they found plenty of opportunities to be in contact. But after they made if official and there was nothing to hide behind anymore, it got scary. They yearned for affection, but what if Luke disappeared one day without meaning to and then they’d both ache for each other’s comfort? They got over it eventually and now it was only natural to feel his smile on her skin.

It was hard to imagine kissing anyone but Luke, unfathomable having a different boy hug her from behind at school and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. Only Luke could write her love notes. Only she was allowed to write him ones as well, or leave cute post-it’s on his guitar to cheer him up when he had a bad day. It was just them.

Her mind going haywire over such a simple touch jolted her memory, Julie abruptly sitting up and bringing Luke with her. His brows raised in surprise. She pecked the pout away, brushing her nose against his. 

“Can I give you your present?”

A breathy smile tugged on his cheeks. “Yeah, I’m curious.”

Julie untangled herself from their embrace and reached inside her wardrobe for the gift. Sitting cross-legged in front of him, she gave him his present with barely-concealed anticipation. Hopefully he loved it as much as she loved making it! 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she sang, watching him pull the tissue paper out the small bag and unearthing the collage and bracelet. 

Speechless, he gawked at the collection of pictures. Eyes flitted past each quickly, like he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. Crawling over to sit beside him, she placed her head on his shoulder. “You like it?”

He sniffled. Julie looked up and was shocked to note his eyes were shiny. “Aw, babe!”

His gaze caught hers, distraught. “You’re not supposed to make me horny and then emotional!”

She laughed and pressed a kiss on his cheek. His cute reaction made her heart lurch with fondness. “It wasn’t supposed to make you cry.”

Luke sighed, hand guiding her face to place a proper kiss on her lips. It was short, but just as electric as all the ones before. He kissed like he played guitar - always intentional and one hundred percent. 

“I love it,” he muttered. “Thank you. And I love the bracelet too.”

“I made sure it matches your others.”

He captured her lips again. “Yeah… Thanks, Jules.” His nose scrunched, arrogance dripping from his voice as he tucked a curl behind her ear. “My present is better though.”

Her arms crossed, challenged. “Oh really?”

“Hell yeah, it is. Gonna knock it out of the park.” With a snap of his finger, he conjured his songbook and stuck the collage between two fresh pages. He clicked his tongue with the typical bravado he exuded onstage. “Who knows, Jules, you might even get a crush on me.”

Just as she was about to retort with a tease of her own, her eyes caught a fluttering page with words she didn’t recognise. Pointing at it, she asked: “What’s that?”

Luke frowned, thumbing to the right side and rolling his eyes. “Some lyrics that got stuck in my head a few nights ago. It doesn’t work though.”

“Maybe not. I kind of like that part.” She tapped on the line ‘so deep, your DNA's being messed with my touch’ with a pensive wrinkle knitted in her forehead. Ideas began to brew, throwaway pieces from other discarded songs coming back to her and meshing well with what he’s already composed. “Yeah, this is good, Luke. Do you want to work on it?”

He hesitated for a beat, stare trailing from her to the half-eaten plate of snacks. “Do you want to?”

“Of course,” she smiled. They were Luke and Julie - did either of them really think they could go a day without music? Even if she hadn’t discovered this diamond in the rough, he’d inevitably spring upright to write down a riff or her fingers would tingle to try out a melody. Songwriting was perhaps the best date of all, showing that work and play could successfully be mixed together. 

He sighed in relief. “Good. Okay, so I was thinking…”

Hours went by tinkering on the song, the afternoon drifting by and them having moved to the hammock in the garden. It was a spot Luke rediscovered and she all too willingly found a place next to him. They cherished the quietude and warmth even before they were dating. The page was now littered with flowing, strung-together verses and a half-done chorus. Instrumentals were for tomorrow when they were all together. In the back of her head lingered the thought that he still hasn’t given his supposed homerun of a present, but Julie reminded herself then that it didn’t even matter. This was enough. He was enough. Who knew, maybe he was just talking smack! The doubts vanished as Luke drummed his fingers on her stomach, humming a beat.      

“And you thought it wouldn’t work!”, she teased. 

He puffed. “Cause it didn’t! It needed the Molina Touch!”

A brow quirked, amused. “The Molina Touch?”

“Yes,” he grinned and tapped her chest. “The Touch.”

“I don’t have the Force, Luke.” When his face fell flat, she decided to play along and mimicked his motion. Her fingers circled his sternum as she said: “Well, I look forward to the Patterson Energy bringing it alive onstage.”

The boy rolled on his side, she following suit. The hammock bended to the movement, pushing them closer together. The couple snickered, noses nudging and locked in the other’s arms. Above, the sky was coloured like Monet, purples and blues and pinks as the sun dropped below the trees. Julie stared at the way he craned his neck, green eyes blown wide while marvelling at the sweeping atmosphere. He was the most beautiful person she’s ever encountered. She was probably a little obsessed with him, never bored of looking at him, of finding new freckles, moles and spots. 

Her reverie snapped like a bubble as he said something. 

“What?”

He repeated himself. “Wanna get waffles?”

She blinked. “Waffles?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “V-Day waffles. I bet they have red velvet ones.” His face twisted, like he was in on an inside joke, and murmured against her lips: “Whipped cream, Jules. Can’t resist that.”

Damn. He knew her too well. “Reggie’s going to be mad we went without him.”

“Then he should get himself a ghost lover,” he joked. Slapping her hip, the exclaim was resolute. “Let’s go!”

The drive was short, an surprising amount of waffle places scattered around Los Feliz. The cityscape was painted red for the day. Heart-shaped wreaths adorned the doors of stores, bars promoted special cocktails with pink hues, boutiques displaying date night dresses on mannequins in the windows. At the end of a large strip of food joints, a waffle house joining in with a red banner hung across the frontage. RED VELVET WAFFLES! ONLY TODAY!

Julie shot him a suspicious look. “You knew?”

He shrugged, smirking. “A good guess.”

They were lucky. The parking lot was pretty much abandoned, no onlookers to see her joking around with air. He stayed in the car as she got the treats.

As she queued, her aimless thoughts found Luke as a focal point. It was hard not to. Maybe the best thing of all for a hopeless romantic like her, was that she found someone who was an even bigger dreamer than she was. If she jumped for the stars, he rocketed himself into space and hoped for the best. It made days like Valentine’s special, but it also felt like another regular Saturday. He didn’t kiss her differently, looked at her more intently - it was always like this. The red velvet waffles was just… extra. A cherry on an already perfect milkshake. Luke and Julie never needed fireworks to make the other feel remarkable. 

Dropping back in the driver’s seta with a sigh, she propped the waffles on the dashboard. “I’m not sure if it’s going to taste right, they look kind of mushy, but I’m sure the whipped cream-” The words died in her throat as she looked at Luke, a timid smile on his lips as his present laid flat in his hands. A mixtape. 

Her eyes tracked the CD for a beat (jules <3 written in sharpie with his infamous scrawl) and then flicked up to his face. That was most spectacular of all: the nervous twitch in his eye, the breathy smile. Luke was flustered.       

Gingerly, she took it from his grasp. “How did you make this?”, she whispered. 

The palpable energy didn’t waver. “Carlos. He lend me his computer and explained how to burn CD’s.” His chuckle was awkward. “Had to get you in the car somehow.”

A smile bloomed on her lips. Her heart was truly going to explode; the gesture so thoughtful and sweet. (Shit. He did knock it out of the park. How will his ego cope?!) Reaching over the middle console, she chastely kissed him. “I already love it.”

He shook his head with a grin, shoulders loosening a bit. “You haven’t listened to it yet. C’mon, play it.” He shot her a cocky nod. “You know how to use a CD-player?”

“Very funny,” she quipped. Cautiously, she took the CD out of its case and slipped it into the player. It whirred for a beat, her upping the volume, and just as she thought she’d hear some 90s rock band, something unexpected happened. 

hey jules

She froze, staring at Luke’s feverishly excited face, as his crackling voice came through the speakers.  

i finally learned about technology! you happy? anyway, you know i love you. i love everything about you, i think… i think that’s kinda why i’m here to begin with.

Tears lodged itself in her chest, ready to spill. Love was going to make her go mad one day. She loved this boy so much that it was insurmountable by anything else.

that’s not- it’s not what this cd is about. His tone brightened. what i love most about you, julie molina, is how fucking in love you are with music. so what better thing to give you, is more music? these are ten songs that remind me of you… happy valentine’s day, baby. 

It clicked off. Quietly, slowly, a melodious piano variation flowed in. Her breath hitched as she recognised it. Frank Sinatra’s ‘It Had To Be You’ reminded Luke of her? Her hands were shaking. His calloused ones grabbed them, pads of his fingers caressing the skin. A pout jutted from her lips, her eyes shimmering with emotion. It wasn’t fair. Boys weren’t supposed to be this romantic. 

His smile could light up the entire state, touch trailing across her arm up to her cheek, grazing the lone tear that she wasn’t even aware of. “Don’t cry,” he chuckled. “I can be the only sap.”

Shaking her head, she pushed herself over the console and placed herself on his lap. The divide of a stick shift was a plain crime. Circling her arms around his neck, Julie kissed him in the way she thought the song felt. Warm and languid and timeless and wholly, utterly loving. Depthless and infinite. The thrill of his bass voice melted them together, no space between them with his hands wrapped around her lower back. 

For nobody else gave me a thrill With all your faults, I love you still It had to be you, wonderful you It had to be you

“I love you,” she sighed into his mouth. “It’s not enough. It’s not…”

He kissed the lament away. “I know. That’s why music works.” Sinatra sang a line and then he grinned. “Gotta express ourselves somehow.”

Though that was true, though they had music to shape their thoughts into the most beautiful declarations of love, all she wished to have was a word. A simple word that perfectly encapsulated what she felt. Love felt too small. Too simple. But until she found it, she’d keep saying it.

And so she did. “I love you, Luke.” 

His eyes shut in delight. “I love you too, Julie.”

They wouldn’t leave for a long time. Locked in each other’s loving embrace, they listened to every song on the mixtape. And when it ended, they looped it.

Time and space wasn’t really important to them anyway.     

For nobody else gave me a thrill With all your faults, I love you still It had to be you, wonderful you It had to be you

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

@blush-and-books​ @bluefirewrites​ @ourstarscollided​​ @alexjulies​ @unsaid-emily​ @willexx​

[august-anon]

Unrestrained Revenge

This was meant to be part of tickletober 2020 but i never finished it, so it became it's own fic instead lol. Promised y’all a full-length BNHA fic from the backlog after the last Witcher fic, so here this is! Hope you enjoy!

---

Fandom: BNHA

Ship(s): EraserMic

Characters (lee/ler): Switch!Aizawa Shouta/Switch!Yamada Hizashi

Word Count: 1870 words

Summary: Hizashi decides to take advantage of Shouta getting a little tangled up in his capture weapon. Shouta, of course, can't let that go without revenge.

[ao3 link]

------------------------------------------

Shouta, in his opinion, worked far too much (which probably meant Hizashi, what with his three jobs, was working an alarming amount, but that was besides the point). He spent eight hours a day in a classroom, and several hours after that grading. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he worked patrols all night as if he didn’t have to be back in the classroom most mornings.

So screw him if he wound up walking around most days in a half-asleep haze.

It became increasingly apparent one afternoon after he and Hizashi had gotten home from their day jobs at the school, for once neither of them being required to head to their second (or even third, in Hizashi’s case) job of the day. Hizashi went to feed the cats while Shouta headed toward the bedroom, looking to change into something more pajama-adjacent.

Only, the problem with being half-asleep most of the time was that you could wind up being rather clumsy. Which was how Shouta found himself in his current predicament: being tied up in his own damn capture weapon. When his struggles only wound up tightening the scarf around him, Shouta gave into the mortification of getting stuck and called for help.

“Hizashi?” He ground out. “I could use some help.”

He heard Hizashi’s footsteps draw near the bedroom and braced himself for the teasing.

“Babe? What is i--” the door opened, and Shouta cringed. Hizashi started laughing. “Shou--babe, how did you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

Hizashi continued laughing as he circled around him, and Shouta couldn’t tell if he was trying to decide where to start or if he was just trying to find the funniest angle to look at him from.

“I don’t think you’ve gotten tangled up this bad since high school.”

Shouta jerked in his tangled bindings and growled. “Will you just help me?”

“Alright, alright, chill out Sho-chan! We can fix this.”

Shouta slumped a little as Hizashi approached and started tugging at random segments of his capture weapon, trying to find a way to start untangling him. He huffed when it didn’t seem to do anything except make the parts that were still loose, tighter.

“You really got yourself stuck, didn’t you…?” Hizashi murmured.

Shouta rolled his eyes. “Get on with it.”

Hizashi pinched his bottom rib. “Behave and I-- What was that?”

Shouta, who had jumped and quietly yelped, quickly cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

A sly grin began to grow on Hizashi’s face. “Shouta,” he sang, raising his hands shaped into claws. “Are you lying to me, my love?”

Shouta stumbled back a few steps. “No.”

Hizashi raised an eyebrow. “You really think you can lie to me, babe? After all this time we’ve known each other?”

“Hizashi, don’t you da--”

Shouta cut himself off with a yelp as he stumbled over his own feet and landed on their bed. Hizashi cackled and bounced up onto the mattress after him, clawed hands still hovering tauntingly between them. Shouta struggled harder in his self-made bonds as Hizashi started wiggling his fingers.

“Hizashi--”

“I can’t believe I forgot you were ticklish, my own fiance!”

“Hizashi--”

“I think it’s very wise of me to do this when you can’t fight back,” Hizashi nodded sagely. “You are far too good at hand-to-hand.”

Before Shouta could reply with a quip about how Hizashi relied on his quirk too much, Hizashi’s hands were back on his ribs. Shouta swallowed another yelp and pursed his lips together, squeezing his eyes shut. Luckily, his ribs weren’t a bad spot, and the gentle pinches Hizashi was subjecting him to were easy enough to resist.

“Aw, come on, baby,” Hizashi tried to goad him, moving down to wiggle his fingers into Shouta’s sides where the scarf wasn’t covering him. “Just laugh! You’ll feel better!”

“You wish,” Shouta ground out.

“You’re right, I do wish. That’s why you should do it.”

Shouta locked his jaw and squirmed around as much as he could, but he couldn’t exactly get much leverage when he was wrapped up in his own capture weapon. Dammit, he should’ve been paying better attention to what he was doing.

It wasn’t like he necessarily minded being tickled, certainly not, and he always enjoyed having Hizahi’s hands all over him. It was just so… embarrassing. His face flushed and his grin was silly and his laugh was weird. Plus, he preferred being restrained on his own terms, rather than getting stuck due to his own clumsiness. 

“Sho, if you just give me a giggle or three, this will all be over so much faster,” Hizashi teased, squeezing his hips and making Shouta grunt.

“Fuck you,” Shouta bit out.

Hizashi winked down at him. “Maybe later, Sho-chan.”

Shouta felt his heart stop when Hizashi’s grinned widened, eyes getting a mischievous glint to them. He tried to shuffle his body further up the bed, but Hizashi simply grabbed a loop of capture weapon to keep him from moving away.

“Good thing I know all your tricks,” he said with another wink. “I’ll have you giggling in no time.”

Hizashi then leaned down, pressing little pecks of kisses to his cheeks, jaw, and ears. Unfortunately, Hizashi was right: this action did almost always end with him giggling. The soft, playful affection was certainly one of Shouta’s secret weaknesses, but the thing Shouta hadn’t admitted to Hizashi about this little action was just how much Hizashi’s mustache tickled. Even with his lips pursed and his face scrunched up, the giggles bubbling up in Shouta’s chest began shaking his whole body, escaping from his nose.

“Here they come,” Hizashi sang into his ear.

Hizashi’s hand scratched down the top of his thigh as he pressed a ticklish kiss just underneath Shouta’s jaw. Shouta gasped, and his laughter escaped before he could stop it. He wished he had his hands free to hide his face. God this was so embarrassing.

Especially with Hizashi gazing at him like he’d hung the moon and the stars. It only made his face burn more.

“You’re beautiful when you smile,” Hizashi said.

Shouta didn’t even bother responding through his giggles. He simply rolled over to bury his burning face into the duvet. Unfortunately, that just opened up a whole new expanse of ticklish skin for Hizashi to exploit. He dug his fingers underneath and in-between loops of his capture scarf, somehow managing to pinpoint all the most sensitive places on Shouta’s back, making him cackle and kick his legs out.

“Hizashi, please!”

Hizashi chuckled. “Alright, alright.” He rolled Shouta over again, grinning down at him. “Let’s get you untangled, then.”

It took an absurd amount of time for Hizashi to get Shouta untied. It certainly didn’t help that Hizashi kept sneaking little tickles here and there, making Shouta squirm, which only tightened his bonds further. When Shouta was finally free, he tossed his scarf across the room with a scowl, making Hizashi fall back against the bed in laughter.

“Oh yeah?” Shouta growled, sweeping a hand through the hair in his face and holding it out of the way. “You think that’s funny? You like to laugh?”

“Oh, lighten up, baby. You and I both know you didn’t hate that.”

Shouta ignored the flush he felt rising into his cheeks once more.

“You’re going to regret that,” he said.

Hizashi’s eyes went wide and he started to sit up, but Shouta launched himself at him before Hizashi could escape. He pinned Hizashi down against the mattress, suddenly wishing he hadn’t thrown his capture weapon aside in his tantrum, and swiftly settled over his hips, pressing Hizashi’s hands into the mattress above his head. Hizashi squirmed around underneath him, already bubbling with nervous giggles.

“Sho--Shouta, come on, babe--”

Shouta cocked his head to the side. “I don’t know, ‘Zashi. You seemed pretty keen on taking advantage of my situation.”

“Baby, please--” Hizashi yelped, trying to free his hands.

But Shouta could hear the giddy undertone to his voice. Hizashi hated this just as much as Shouta did, which was to say, he didn’t hate it one bit. Quite the opposite, in fact Even if they’d played like this less and less over the years, to the point of them stopping entirely for a brief time, the game remained the same, and fake, weak protests had always been a part of it.

“The difference between you and me, babe,” Shouta said, giving Hizashi one of his terrifying grins, “is that I never forgot that you were ticklish.”

Which meant that Shouta knew exactly where to target to get Hizashi howling.

And Hizashi clearly realized that too, because he gasped and tucked his red face into the crook of his elbow. Shouta was tempted to call him out on it, to remove the ways to hide his face since Shouta hadn’t been able to hide his, but he decided to have mercy and simply dive in.

See, what Hizashi had so foolishly forgotten was that the two of them shared a weak point. Shouta and Hizashi both had horribly ticklish necks, both easily ranked as one of their worst spots. Hizashi didn’t do much to protect his neck, but Shouta’s ticklishness was certainly one of the reasons he kept his hair so long and wore his capture weapon everywhere: it was much wiser to hide the sensitive spot away than to let his friends have access to it.

And so Shouta kept Hizashi’s hands pinned to the bed, leaning down to bury his face in Hizashi’s neck. A squeal (thankfully not quirk-powered) ripped from Hizashi’s lips as Shouta gently scraped his stubble against Hizashi’s throat, and the sound only got louder and more high-pitched when Shouta brought his lips and teeth into the equation. 

There were small bursts of laughter here and there, but it seemed like Hizashi was so overwhelmed by the sensation that he couldn’t do much more than shriek and squeal and yell out wordlessly. In Shouta’s opinion, it was fucking adorable.

“Had enough yet?” Shouta teased, carefully keeping his voice monotone to set Hizashi on edge.

He didn’t even bother waiting for an answer before pressing his lips to a weak point under Hizashi’s jaw and blowing a loud raspberry. Hizashi’s laughter (or, more accurately, screaming) went silent at that, his shoulders shaking with mirth. 

As the sensation faded, Hizashi gasped and called out, “Enough!”

Shouta backed off instantly, freeing Hizashi’s hands but not climbing off his hips just yet.

“Your endurance is down,” Shouta said.

Hizashi rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face was bright and happy. “Yeah, yeah.” His grin morphed into something a little more mischievous. “You know what I’m in the mood for right about now?”

Shouta raised an eyebrow. “A nap, hopefully.”

Hizashi’s laughter rang out through the apartment once more as he pulled Shouta back down onto the mattress with him. He pressed a lingering kiss to Shouta’s lips before squirming out of his arms and worming his way under their mound of blankets.

“A nap sounds great, Sho-chan.”

Shouta snorted. “It fucking better, after all that,” he replied, and climbed under the blankets himself.

And for once, the two of them slept peacefully, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.

[oliviaischillin1204]

Do you take requests? If so, would you consider doing an Intruality fic? Both as switches, preferably, but i just think it’s a really underrated and cute ship, and you’d do such a good job at it

the one where Remus bugs Patton

Pairings: Romantic Intruality

Word Count: 2,661 words

Warnings: references to bugs being used to tickle the lee-- no actual bugs are involved, but there’s a lot of talk about them

ok. this has been a WIP since May 30, 2020, so if it feels disjointed... that’s why lmao. ALSO i’m using this as a response for a prompt from September 17, 2020, which was not my plan, but hey, why not! 

also, please don’t comment about how long it’s taking me to write again, even as a joke. thank you!

It’s one of Patton’s favorite games to play with Remus.

Well, it’s not really a game, technically, because they both end up as winners, in Patton’s opinion. Whenever either of them wants some affection, they just have to go up to the other and request whatever kind of kiss they want. Sweet one, gross one, funny one-- part of the fun was coming up with increasingly random kiss requests, and seeing what the other one would respond with.

It was especially fun to play their game in front of other people (whose reactions range from overdramatic catcalling to overdramatic gagging), but then there were moments like this-- late at night, cuddled together in Patton’s bed, perfectly comfy and warm and content-- that it was just another way for the two of them to shower each of in love.

“Quick one?” Patton asked quietly, not wanting to break the calm spell they’d found. Remus immediately responsed, leaning over to press a chaste kiss to Patton’s lips. Even that short touch felt electric to Patton, and he squirmed his legs happily at the feeling.

“Slow one,” Remus requested next, wrapping Patton even tighter in his arms. Patton smiled, tilting his head upwards and recapturing his boyfriend’s lips in a deep kiss. He could feel Remus’ smile against him, his hand coming up to brush through Patton’s hair.

The kiss left Patton feeling a little lightheaded, but that certainly didn’t stop him from continuing the game.

“Soft one.”

The two connected again, their lips just barely grazing each other before coming together in a gentle touch. It stayed like that for an indeterminate amount of time, and Patton thought there was no better feeling in the world than Remus’ warmth against him.

They pulled back, and Patton sighed happily, gazing up at Remus with a content gaze.

Remus’ eyes gleamed. ��Sexy one!”

Patton blushed. He sighed fondly, but he still craned his head around to better face his boyfriend. The two shared a just-this-side-of-decent kiss before they pulled away, Patton giving Remus’ lower lip a quick nip as they parted.

“You always ask for that one,” he said, hoping his flustered state wasn’t too noticeable.

Judging from the way Remus’ smile turned teasing, he wasn’t so lucky. “Only because you blush so pretty when I do, creampuff!”

Patton giggled, turning away to hide his deepening blush. “Oh, hush, you--”

“What? It’s true, dumpling! It makes you look sweeter than candy! And you taste better, too.”

“Shush!” Patton insisted, bapping Remus’ chest and fighting the urge to hide his face in his hands. Remus merely laughed, shifting a little so he could hold Patton with his back against Remus’ chest.

“You’re blushing ‘cause it’s true,” he crooned in Patton’s ear. The moral side huffed a giggle at his boyfriend’s antics. He turned to give him the stinkeye.

“Meanie.”

Remus shrugged. “You gonna take your turn, or what?”

Patton humphed, but as he watched Remus smile in profile, he got a new idea into his head.

“Butterfly kiss!”

He craned his head to the side, getting as close to Remus’ face as possible, and rapidly fluttered his eyelashes against his cheek.

Immediately Remus squeaked, jerking his head away. He shot Patton a wide-eyed look.

“What the-- what? Butterfly what?”

Patto blinked, surprised by Remus’ confusion. “A butterfly kiss?”

Remus quirked his head at him. “Do... butterflies kiss people?”

A beat, and then an amused laugh escaped Patton’s lips. “Oh my goodness, you’re adorable.” He caught one of Remus’ hands in his own, and slowly lifted it up to his face.

“This is a butterfly kiss.”

Patton quickly fluttered his eyes against the back of Remus’ hand, gently grazing his eyelashes along the skin. Remus’ fingers twitched on reflex, but he seemed to be trying to stay as still as possible.

“Who the hell came up with that?”

Patton shrugged, kissing the back of Remus’ hand before dropping it. “I don’t know, butterfly scientists? I think it’s just because it tickles a little.”

Remus hummed noncommitally, and Patton let the comfortable silence overtake them again. He was only slightly surprised a few minutes later when Remus announced, “My turn!”

Patton smiled, sitting up slightly in Remus’ grasp. “Ready!”

“Bumblebee kiss!”

Patton paused, tilting his head in confusion.

“I haven’t heard of that one,” he admitted, but fell silent as Remus lifted his hand and extended one pointer finger.

Patton stared at the finger. It wiggled in a friendly manner.

“Remus--?”

“Bzzzzzzzzz...”

Patton cut himself off as Remus began making a quiet buzzing noise, changing pitch and volume as his finger began floating closer and closer to Patton’s stomach.

Patton’s eyes widened, and he tried to wiggle out of Remus’ grasp to no avail. “Wait!”

Remus didn’t wait. “Bzzzzzzzzz-- mwah!”

All in one moment, Remus’ buzzing cut off as he poked Patton’s tummy pudge with his buzzing finger, pressing a quick kiss to his neck at the exact same time. Patton gasped, letting a shocked snicker escape his mouth.

“You’re so silly--” he started, but Remus merely lifted the finger yet again.

“Bzzzzzzzzz...”

The finger began to spiral, this time heading towards Patton’s ribcage. His giggles began building up in his chest, but Patton felt frozen in place as he watched the finger drift closer.

“Bzzzzzzzzz-- mwah!” Remus darted into Patton’s ribs, wiggling his finger for a few seconds as he gave Patton another tickly kiss.

“Nahaha!” Patton protested at the extra tickles Remus was giving him, shoving his torso in the other direction to escape his wiggling finger. “No no no, don’t!”

He had very little hopes of his boyfriend listening to his request (not that Patton minded-- he loved how fun Remus’ silly moods were) but his expectations were confirmed as Remus pulled his hand back, only to begin swirling the one pointer finger ominously slowly.

“Bzzzzzzzzz...” he sang directly into Patton’s ear. The teasing inflection of his voice was so much worse now that Patton was already giggling, and he couldn’t stop himself from sucking his stomach in as far as he could.

“Remus!” he squealed, wiggling side to side and knowing it was pointless.

“Bzzzzzzzz-- mwah mwah mwah!” And with that, Remus let his ‘bumblebee’ land right in Patton’s bellybutton, wiggling rapidly and making Patton’s stomach jiggle. At the same time, he dove in to smother the back of Patton’s neck with kisses, letting his mustache just barely graze the sensitive skin.

Patton gasped and squealed at the same time. Dazed and giddy, he arched his back on reflex, only for his peals of laughter to heighten as he pushed Remus’ buzzing finger further into his tickle spot. He squealed even louder as he finally remembered-- oh, yeah, he has arms.

Immediately Patton’s hands shot down to push Remus’ tickling hand away from his stomach. Remus acquiesced easily, pulling his hand gently out of Patton’s tired grip and loosening his hold. He leaned back against the pillows; Patton couldn’t see him, but he knew his boyfriend had a very amused look on his face.

“Was that a good kiss, honeybee?” he asked sweetly. Patton giggled; now that the tickles were over, his face was flushing at how silly his boyfriend was being.

“No,” he said faux-petulantly, flopping back against Remus’ chest and crossing his arms (very casually protecting as much of his ticklish torso as he could). “No bug tickles.”

Behind him, Remus pretended to gasp indignantly. “Excuse me, I did not mean to tickle you! It’s not my fault you got all squirmy from a simple bumblebee kiss.”

Patton giggled again. In his still flustered state, the only retort he could find was, “I’m not that squirmy.”

Again, he could perfectly imagine the look of amused disbelief Remus was giving him now. “Uh, yuh huh you are, puddin’. You were wiggling all over like you had ants in your pants--”

His voice cut off, and although it only took Patton all of three seconds to catch up to his train of thought, it was too late.

Still, he whipped around as best as he could, making his voice as stern as possible as he said, “Remus, don’t you dare--”

“Too late!” Remus crowed gleefully. “Ant kisses for you!”

Right away his mouth was back against Patton’s neck, and Patton made his gasp-squeal noise again. He scrunched his neck to defend himself as much as possible, but it wasn’t until he felt fingers tappin the tops of his thighs that he realized what he should have been trying to defend.

“Oh, look at all the happy little ants here to give you kisses!” Remsu cheered, skittering and scratching all over the tops and sides of Patton’s thighs. “They just love to hear your sweet little giggles! Sweeter than ice cream melting at a picnic!”

His hands began alternating from fluttering against the outsides of Patton’s thighs, to haphazardly yet efficiently squeezing the insides. Patton kicked his legs madly against the tickling sensations, until Remus trapped one of his legs between his own and began running his leg hair across Patton’s calf and shin.

“Ants in your pants! Ants in your pants!” he sang quietly in between kisses. Patton rocked forwards as he weakly tried to pull Remus’ hands off of his thighs, but he was just a bit too distracted at the moment to manage it.

Luckily, he had the best boyfriend in the whole wide world, because Remus soon pulled back once again, letting Patton catch his breath as he rubbed away the phantom tingles from his skin.

“Mean, rude, evil...” he muttered under his breath with a voice full od love. Remus snickered, poking Patton once in the back and making him shoot ramrod straight.

“You liked them,” he teased. “You loved the ant kisses.”

Patton sighed, falling back against Remus’ chest once more.

“Maybe so,” he admitted. “Butterflies and bumblebees and ants-- they’re all very cute, but--”

“But just no spiders, right?” Remus finished immediately, wrapping his arms around Patton’s chest and placing a kiss on the back of his head. “I’ve got you, Pat-Pat.”

He fell back into a comfortable silence, but Patton was lost in thought. It was true-- whenever the two of them had some tickly fun together, the word ‘spider’ very specifically never came up. Patton had never asked, and he hadn’t had to: Remus was just sweet like that. Still...

He turned his head and nuzzled under Remus’ chin.

“Reemie?” he asked softly. When Remus hummed in response, Patton continued carefully.

“How would... how would a spider kiss go, do you think?” he asked, craning his neck up to look for Remus’ reaction.

A beat, and then he got it: Remus’ face shifted from confusion to elation in less than a second.

“Patty-bear!” he crooned, bouncing both of them in excitement. “You do love me!” He rocked Patton side to side, shocking another barrage of giggles out of him.

Then his voice shifted a little lower, leaning a little closer as he cooed, “And I know someone who loves you...”

Already patton could feel his heart seeding up again. He turned away from Remus, only to catch a glimpse of it: Remus’ right hand, in a perfect claw formation,

Patton made a choked noise, flapping his hands in anticipation. “Re-mus!”

“What?” Remus asked casually. “It’s not me! It’s just my friend, Mr. Spider.”

‘Mr. Spider’ waved at Patton, fingers wiggling mischievously in the air. Patton squeaked and covered his face, and immediately Remus tsked.

“No hiding, Mr. Mom...” he chided gently. “Mr. Spider just wants to show you how much he loves you!”

He gently grabbed Patton’s left wrist, and pulled his arm out straight to the side.

“Look at how many kisses he’s giving you!” he cooed, leaning over to smack a quick kiss onto Patton’s wrist. Then another, a little bit further up his arm, until he was pressing a row of tiny kisses all the way up Patton’s forearm. It wasn’t really tickly, but it was silly enough to make Patton laugh anyway.

Until Remus’ other hand, the one known as Mr. Spider, began spidering just above his left hip. Patton squeaked, jerking his arm in on impulse, but it stayed firm in Remus’ grasp, leaving his entire left side exposed for Remus’ spidering fingers.

“Remus-- Remus!”

Remus hummed in response, his mouth now pressed against the crook of Patton’s elbow while his fingers congregated on the dip of his waistline. The scratchy, fluttery feelings sent tingles all the way through Patton’s body, and he curled his toes on instinct as he exploded with giggles and squirmed as much as he could.

“Mr. Spider just loves you so much, Patty-doll...” Remus murmured into his elbow, nibbling just slightly enough to make Patton squeal. “He wants to give you so many little kisses all over!”

Faster than Patton could track, Remus’ hand moved up and down his side, nails tracing and crazing across the skin as delicately as possible. Patton squealed and squirmed and threw his body as farto the other side as possible.

“Nohohoho!” he begged in delight, bouncing his legs desperately. “Not thehehehere!”

He reached around with his other arm to belatedly block Remus’ spidering fingers. Of course, the move ended up being a very bad (or very good) idea: Remus easily grabbed Patton’s other wrist, and in one swift movement flipped them both around until Patton was flat on his back.

“Any lasts requests?” Remus questioned, staring him down from above. Patton blinked, cheeks flushed and heart pounding.

“Spider kiss,” he asked breathlessly, smiling up at Remus. “Please?”

Remus’ grin was bright and dangerous. Patton loved it so much.

And then that grin disappeared as Remus yanked up Patton’s shirt and dropped to press kisses against every inch of Patton’s stomach-- every inch where he wasn’t spidering all ten of his fingers across the hyper-sensitive skin, at least.

Patton’s shriek was immediate, back arching and stomach sucking in at the same time. Remus used both hands to spider from the center of Patton’s stomach, out to the sides; from there he let his lips fall to press kiss after tickly kiss against the skin, even blowing a raspberry or two (or three or five or eight) against the skin.

“Rehehehehe-mus!” Patton begged as Remus focused on one specific spot on his sides. “Plehehehe--”

“Please?” Remus asked, blowing another tiny raspberry against the spot. “Please what? Please more? More spider kisses?”

He paired each sentence with another wiggle of his spidering fingers; after each question, there was another tickly kiss against the softest parts of Patton’s tummy. His fingers crawled from his ribs to his sides to his tummy to his hips to the little bit of his back that he could reached.

Patton didn’t even know how long he was screaming in laughter and squirming in delight. All he knew was that Remus was eventually sitting back on his haunches, watching fondly as Patton’s laughter fell back into quiet giggles.

“All good?” he asked softly, patting Patton’s knee comfortingly. Patton coughed, nodded, and sat up until the two were sitting face to face.

“I think we need to call an exterminator,” he said hoarsely. “We’ve got a lot of bugs in here.”

Remus stared at him in silence. Patton stared back.

And then the two fell into laughter, leaning forward until their foreheads knocked, which only sent them further into laughter. Remus reached out and grabbed Patton’s hands, rubbing his thumbs over his knuckles.

“True love’s kiss,” he murmured softly, ducking his head as if he could hide the blush that was forming on his cheeks at the request. “Please.”

Patton hummed in consideration. “Well, normally I’d say yes right awya, but you did just get finished tickling the snot out of me--”

“And I’ll do it again,” Remus interjected, looking back up as he wiggled his fingers teasingly. “Unless you give me true love’s kiss right now.”

Patton smiled, leaning forward to give his boyfriend exactly what he asked for.

[my-happy-little-bean]

The Day The Sun Fell - Chapter 2

pairing: logan/patton words: 3834 story summary: “The story of Logan and Patton from the day they met, to the day the sun fell.

(aka the story of logan and patton told a bit out of order. also the apocalypse happened, which is weird huh?)

warnings for both chapters: swearing; fighting; sad, apocalyptic vibes in general; sickness; implied death(s)  

a/n - hello! this is a repost of a semi-old fic of mine that is written in like a non-linear format, which is always super fun ~

i will be linking the previous chapter, the masterlist, and the link to the entire work on ao3 below if you’d like it :)

stay rad, u rad rats ✨

< previous chapter

[read on ao3]

[masterlist]

---

Patton couldn’t hear anything. 

His ears were still ringing– he couldn’t even hear his own voice. And– God there’s bodies everywhere. 

Adrenaline, Patton, he thought. He grabbed Logan, swinging his arm around his shoulder and pushing himself to make it back to Logan’s apartment. 

So close… The ringing felt louder, if that was even possible. So close…

(He didn’t even know that he was the one who saved him that day.)

“W-Where…” Logan groaned before he could finish. 

“We’re–” He huffed– ”going back to your place.” 

“P-Patton...y-you don’t–”

“Shut up,” Patton gritted through his teeth as tears slid down his cheeks, “W-We’re going home, and– and there’s nothing you can say that’s going to change my mind, okay? So– to make this e-easier for us–” He huffed again– ” shut up .”

And Logan did.

(Because he loved him.)

---

“What do you mean you don’t know how to say it?” Virgil asked, leaning back on Logan’s couch. Logan shrugged, tossing Virgil a beer on his way back from the kitchen. 

“I don’t know why I can’t,” Logan said, drinking from his third bottle tonight. “It– it’s illogical. ”

“Have you ever said it?” he asked. “To anyone? ”

Logan fell quiet. Virgil’s eyes widened. 

“Oh–” He cracked open his beer bottle– ” God. ”

“Shut up,” Logan groaned, slumping down on the couch beside him. Virgil turned around to face him. 

“Stacey Marron.” 

“Nope.”

“Austin Tanner?”

“Nu-uh.” 

“Elliot?”

“ Obviously not.” 

“Tiffany Ray?”

“Two weeks only. Never got the chance.”

“ No one? ” Virgil asked, a little less teasingly than before. Logan shook his head wordlessly and took another sip. Virgil sighed. 

“Have you told him why?” 

A pause. 

“No,” Logan said, “I haven’t.” 

Virgil sighed.

“I feel like he deserves to know.”

“What do you know.” The beer made the words taste more bitter than intended. Virgil just stared at him. 

“I know more than him, apparently,” Virgil simply said, “which I feel is saying something.” 

“Then what am I going to say, huh Virge?” Logan shot up from the couch, stumbling to the window. “That I’ve never been in a long-term relationship before? That– that I’m just some– some serial fucker who sleeps with people– who breaks their hearts in half and then just leaves?” 

“...when were sober, you have to change your Instagram bio to ‘serial fucker’.” 

“What the fuck am I going to do,” Logan groaned, slamming his beer on the coffee table as he plopped himself on the ground. Virgil sighed, sliding off the couch and crawling beside Logan, who leaned on his shoulder. 

“You’re just going to have to decide whether or not this is someone you’re going to change for,” Virgil said. Logan looked up at him, almost wearily. 

“Change?” His voice sounded too small for his own good. Virgil shook his head, tapping his shoulder again so Logan could lean on it. 

“No, not change,” he mused. “Wrong word. It’s…maybe the word's commit...?”

Virgil trailed off, before looking down at Logan. He sighed.

"Let's just make this easy then," he finally said. “Do you like him?”

“Of course I do.”

“Do you love him?” 

A pause. 

Logan couldn’t help but look at the framed picture of him and Patton on his TV stand. Their smiles were bright enough to fill the whole room, and they looked like they were in...

“I don’t know,” Logan said quietly. 

“Logan, come on, you have to know somewhere deep down in your weird, robo-heart–”

“No,” Logan said again. He didn’t meet Virgil’s glance. “I don’t...I don’t think I know what that is .”

---

“Roman’s resting in your bathtub,” Patton announced, walking back to the living room. Logan was on the couch, with Virgil doing his best to attend to his leg.

“Is he– shit, Virge–” He hissed as Virgil tended his wound. Virgil rolled his eyes, nudging his head towards Patton. Logan sighed. “Is...is he comfortable in there?” 

“Duh,” Patton said softly. He gave him a half-hearted smile. “It’s Roman . He’s comfortable anywhere.” 

“How’s he doing?” Logan asked. 

“I don’t know,” Patton admitted. “He wouldn’t tell me.” 

“Serves him right for running into the scene of the crime,” Virgil mumbled, though there was an edge of worry in his voice. 

“He was trying to help people,” Patton explained. “When he heard that we were there when it happened, he went straight here.”

A beat of silence. 

“...It’s a fucking shit show out there.”

“Virgil! Language!”

“Sorry, sorry.” 

“What did they say?” Logan asked. Patton sighed. 

“There was another one,” he replied, sitting beside Logan on the couch. “I think it was in Japan. There might’ve been one somewhere in Europe too, but they’re investigating it.” 

“Did they say what it was?” 

Patton shrugged. 

“A lot of people are saying a lot of things. People think it’s judgement day, whatever that means. The radio gave out halfway through the interview. I don't know how to fix it.”

“How edgy of them,” Virgil piped up, still focused on Logan’s wounds. "Judgement day."

Logan just nodded, falling quiet again. 

“They say it’s not over,” Patton said, just soft enough for Logan to hear. “They said it was only the beginning.” 

Logan said nothing.

---

Logan watched with a small smile as Patton walked into the living room with a bright smile and a bowl of popcorn. Roman threw some stray strands of tinsel into the air. 

“Huzzah!” he exclaimed. “Food has arrived! We can finally start gift giving!” 

“Can someone tell me who’s idea this was,” Virgil deadpanned. 

“It was mine, My Chemically-Imbalanced Romance ,” Roman huffed. “You always have entertainment popcorn to watch the drama unfold.” 

“What drama?” Logan mumbled.

“The drama when someone doesn’t like the other person’s present.” Roman glared at him as if it were obvious. Virgil rolled his eyes. 

“Everyone’s going to like everyone’s gift.” Patton sat in front of the tree with the popcorn in his lap, cross-legged on the ground. Logan watched as Patton then reached over to the couch and pulled his blanket off of it, spilling a bit of popcorn as he did. He wrapped himself in its warm colours and glanced at Logan. 

He gave him a warm smile.  Logan felt something bubbling in his chest. 

They exchanged gifts, laughing at every silly present Roman gave them. Virgil tried not to cry when Logan gave him a membership to the local museum; and Patton tried not to die when Roman gave him a membership to the gym. 

“We can be workout buddies now!” Roman wiggled his eyebrows. “Build some stamina, you know?” 

“Roman! ” Patton gasped as Logan did his best not to blush. 

It eventually came time for Logan to exchange presents with Patton. 

“Aw, Logan!” Patton pulled out the two concert tickets from the envelope. “Oh, these are fantastic! I’m so excited. And–  awwww there’s a heart beside your name on the envelope!” He kissed Logan’s cheek. “I love you so much. This is so sweet.” 

A beat of silence. 

“Of course,” Logan finally said.

“How about you, Microsoft Nerd ,” Roman cut in. “Are you going to open Pat’s gift or what?”

“ Romannn,” Patton said with a small giggle, though he seemed just as excited. Logan looked at Virgil who just shrugged. 

He took Patton’s gift—a small, square box; tied with a white ribbon—and held it in his hands. He then looked up at Patton, who gestured for him to open it. 

Logan chuckled as he untied the ribbon and opened the box, and–

He froze. 

“Do you like it?” Patton asked, almost as giddy as Roman was. “I had it made this morning. I thought about giving you something else, like maybe a bookstore gift card or something.” He scooted closer to Logan. “ Buuuut, I feel like because we’ve been dating for a while, like we’re almost at the one year mark– I just think we’re there, you know?”

Logan could feel Virgil staring at the key as well. 

“I…” 

Patton’s smile fell. 

“Is...is that okay?” 

Logan cleared his throat. 

“Of course.” He hastily kissed Patton’s hand. “ Thank you. ” 

He closed the box slowly, the key finally disappearing from his sight; and, in the corner of his eye, he saw Roman pop a piece of popcorn in his mouth. 

---

“Patton?”

Patton turned around to see Roman, a bit paler than when he last saw him. He was stumbling towards him. 

“Jesus, Roman,” Patton murmured, going to his side immediately to help him walk. “When did you wake up?” 

“Just a bit ago,” he huffed. “I’m heading to the kitchen. Wanted a snack” 

“Go sit on the couch,” Patton said firmly. Roman just shrugged and did as he was told.

“What do you want?” Patton said as he walked into the kitchen. 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

Patton sighed as he searched the kitchen.

“How long has Logan been gone now?” He heard Roman ask. Patton closed a cupboard quietly. 

“Too long,” he mumbled. He grabbed a plate for the bread he found and went to sit beside Roman on the couch, offering the plate to him. 

“He’s still looking for him, isn’t he?” 

Patton just nodded. 

“It was my dumb fault,” Roman muttered, staring at his plate. “I was the one who told him to get lost.”

“It hasn’t been easy for any of us,” Patton reassured. Roman averted his glance. “We’ve all been pretty...agitated. It’s hard to stay cooped up like this. And...well, we’re all responsible for our own actions nowadays. You know what Logan says; no use in blaming ourselves. It won’t fix anything.” 

Roman said nothing, but was able to finish his bread. Patton took the plate from him when he was done and set it on the coffee table. 

“You actually finished.” He smiled softly. “I’m proud of you.” 

Roman let out a scratchy laugh and shook his head. “It’ll probably come back up tomorrow.” 

Patton’s smile fell as he stared at the table.

“Hey.” Roman scooted a bit closer to Patton. “I...I need to tell you something.” 

“Yeah?”

“I…” Roman sighed. “You have to promise not to get mad.” 

Patton faced him, his leg beginning to bounce. “What’s up?” 

“...I’m leaving.” 

Patton’s heart dropped. 

“Y-You’re...you’re what? ” 

“Patton, this shouldn’t surprise you.” Patton was shocked at how calm Roman’s voice was. “Things are getting worse–  everything is getting worse. Logan may be out there looking for Virgil but he’s looking for other things too. We are barely able to keep up our supply for three people and...well, you know I’ve been sick for a while.”

“That doesn’t mean that–”

“You said it yourself,” Roman said with a small smile. “We’re all responsible for our own actions.” 

Patton fell quiet. They didn’t speak for what seemed like hours before Patton broke the silence. 

“Where are you going to go?” he asked. Roman looked at him, almost surprised. 

“You’re letting me?” 

“You’re going to leave anyway, aren’t you?” His voice was cold. Roman looked down, almost ashamed.

“...I don’t know where I’m gonna end up,” Roman finally said, his voice quiet. “But I’m going to do the most I can to help someone with what I have left.” 

Patton felt tears roll down his cheeks. Roman’s shoulders dropped. He looked like he was looking at a sick puppy.

“Oh, Patton,” he whispered, pulling Patton into a hug. Patton could feel his tears staining Roman’s shirt. “It’s going to be okay.” 

“Y-You’re…” Patton sobbed into his chest. “You’re my best friend.”

Roman patted his head, chuckling. “I know. You’re mine too, padré.”

He coughed a bit, and pushed Patton back gently. Patton stared at him, as if he was talking to a ghost.

“I’ll be gone in the morning,” Roman said hoarsely. Patton numbly nodded. 

“I won’t tell Logan.”

Roman frowned. “...Really?” 

“He doesn’t need to know.” 

Roman just sighed, stroking Patton’s hair gently.

"Are you happy?" 

"You're an asshole." Patton was crying even more now.

“He loves you,” Roman murmured. “You know that, right?”

Patton said nothing, but he heard Roman’s last words before he even said it. 

(He wouldn’t have stayed if he didn’t.)

---

“Hey, Lo.” Virgil’s voice buzzed from his phone on the counter. Logan hummed in response, busy making himself a sandwich before heading to work. “Do you still want to go over to my place tonight? ‘Doctor Who’ is on.”

“Ah, I can’t,” Logan said, taking the phone off speaker and slipping it between his ear and his shoulder. “I am making dinner with Patton tonight.”

“You mean the guy from the library?” “Yes.” Logan went over to the couch and grabbed his brown bag. “His name is Patton.” 

“I know,” Virgil chuckled. “I’m just...surprised, s’all.” 

“Surprised?” Logan echoed. He stopped in front of the mirror in his front entryway, adjusting his tie. 

“I’m just surprised you’re settling down.”

Logan froze. 

“You’re joking, right,” he deadpanned. 

“Obviously.” Logan rolled his eyes. 

“But seriously,” Virgil continued, “I’m happy for you. I really want to meet him.”

“I’m not settling down,” Logan blurted out, almost defensively. 

A beat of silence. 

“Don’t think about it too hard, Lo,” Virgil finally said. He laughed, but it sounded more nervous than anything. “It was just a dumb joke. Sorry.”

Logan sighed. “I’m sorry as well. I did not mean to sound so cross. I’m just–”

“Don’t worry,” Virgil cut in before he could finish. “I get it.”

Logan just nodded as he kneeled down to tie his shoes. He placed his phone beside him.

After a bit of silence, he heard Virgil ask, “Is he pretty?” 

Logan paused, then picked up his phone and stood up. He smiled softly to himself.

“The prettiest,” he replied.

---

Patton coughed until he woke himself up, shooting up from his bed. He winced at how bright it already was outside, noticing the small outline of sweat he left on the pillow. He shuddered. 

“Mmm…” He looked down to see Logan stir beside him. “Are...are you alright?”

“M’fine,” Patton mumbled. Logan sat up with a small sigh. 

“Do you need to throw up?” 

Patton hesitated. “Probably.” 

Logan just nodded and Patton watched, a bit guilty, as he climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom to grab a trash bin. 

Patton flopped back down onto the bed with a small groan. He tried to will his cough– and whatever else was threatening to come up– to stay down, buried in his chest. 

“Sit up, please.” Patton turned his head and saw Logan going over to sit down beside him. He laid a trash can on the floor, closest to where Patton’s head was laying. “We don’t want you to choke on whatever comes out.” 

Patton smiled half-heartedly, sitting up beside Logan. His leg was bouncing. He had been throwing up for the better part of a week now — and Logan had, unfortunately, seen him do it most times. He wasn’t quite sure what made him so insecure. 

Logan offhandedly laid his hand on Patton’s forehead. He winced. 

“You’re warm.” He pulled his hand back slowly. “Too warm.” 

“I know,” Patton mumbled. Logan sighed. 

“You know this means I’m going to have to go find some medicine, right?” 

“ Logan, ” Patton whined. 

“I’ll leave tomorrow at night.”

“Nighttime doesn’t even matter anymore, Logan,” Patton protested. 

“I’ll be back before the morning comes, I promise.” 

“It’s too dangerous to even leave the house.” Patton felt his throat get drier as his voice rose. “Logan, you could get hurt if you go, you know that risks–”

“I’m not going to just sit here,” Logan gritted out, “and just watch you die. ”

Patton froze. 

He snuck a glance at Logan and noticed he was crying. Patton’s eyes widened. 

“You can’t die, okay?” Logan wasn’t even looking at him. He was just staring ahead of him. There was a slight tremble in his hands. He pushed his palms against his knees, as if to keep them glued there. 

“I’m not dying,” Patton muttered, but the words came out too dry for them to sound believable. 

“You just can’t .” Logan talked as if Patton wasn’t even in the room. He suddenly let out a choked sob. 

Patton watched wordlessly as Logan doubled over, burying his face in his hands as he began to cry. He felt like he stared at him for too long– longer than any normal person would.

And suddenly, the feeling to be sick, to cry, to do anything just...disappeared.

Patton leaned against Logan’s shoulder, just listening to his cries grow quieter. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine a world where he and Logan were married; celebrating their love under an arch of flowers, and under a sun that wasn’t dying.

---

“Hey Logan?” 

Logan yawned, then rolled over onto his side to face Patton, who smiled sheepishly. He tucked his arm under his head to get a better, more comfortable look at him.

“Yeah?” he asked. Patton smiled. 

“You’re really great, you know?” 

Logan chuckled. “The drowsiness is hitting you now, hm?” 

“No, seriously.” Patton leaned closer to him, mere inches from his face. Logan swore he felt Patton’s warm breath hit his nose. “I know I’ve only known you for a week now but...gosh, I just can’t help it. You’re...you’re just really great.” 

Logan smiled. 

(Three words sat in his throat)

“You’re really great too,” he whispered, gently laying his arm around Patton, who yawned and curled up into Logan’s bare chest. “ I’m glad I met you.”

---

Patton leaned against Logan, who helped him walk out of the car and towards the edge of the cliff. Just moving in this heat made him regret ever leaving the apartment, but he knew that he had to leave– go as far away from home as he could. He was lucky that Logan’s car still worked. 

Patton shielded his eyes as he looked below at the city from the highest vantage point he knew of. The sun glared at him, as if calling him stupid for even trying. 

He heard Logan sigh as he turned Patton around so that he was facing him. 

(It was illogical– no, stupid to look anywhere else.)

 Patton felt Logan wrap his arms around his waist and it was only then that Patton realized he was shaking and sobbing loudly in Logan’s embrace.

“Shhh,” Logan whispered softly. He pulled Patton closer to him. “It’s going to be okay.” 

“I- I–”

“ It’s okay,” he said again. 

Patton felt like laughing. Or throwing up. Or crying some more– he didn’t even know. It was so warm. 

“I-I’m so scared. ”

Logan paused. 

“I know,” he said quietly. 

“What if one of us lives ?” Patton murmured, his sobs wracking his entire body. He doubled over into Logan’s chest, throwing his arms around Logan as if he was hanging onto the only lifeboat on deck.“W-What if one of us lives and– and you are dead and–” 

“Patton…” 

“I don’t want to be alone.” Patton clung onto him, his face buried in Logan’s chest. It was like that for a while before he felt Logan tilt his chin up to face him. Patton could see glimpses of tears rolling down Logan’s cheeks. 

“You’re not going to be alone,” he said.

The winds roared louder now. Despite now being face-to-face with Logan, Patton was squeezing his eyes shut, shaking at the noise. 

Patton tried to memorize the ba-bump, bump, bump of Logan’s heartbeat. He tried to focus on it, make it the last thing he remembered, tried to remember that he was his–

“ God, I-I hate this.” Patton sounded so broken. He hoped Logan wouldn't notice. “I wish–”

“ No, ” Logan said firmly. Patton opened his eyes and looked at him. 

Logan moved his arms from Patton’s waist to his back, enveloping him into a tight hug. 

It’s all going to be okay, he was with him.

“You didn’t need to wish for anything else,” Logan finally said. “Things went just as they were supposed to, you know?”

He buried his face in the crook of Patton’s neck. “ I’m so happy. ”

Patton froze. The words sounded so far away, yet there they were; so close.

And then, Patton laughed.

It was interspersed with coughs but he was laughing. And eventually, Logan was laughing too. 

And there they were, laughing, as the sun grew closer. 

At some point– Patton wasn't sure when– Logan pulled back slightly. Behind him, Patton could see a blinding flash of white.

(And that’s how he knew they were going to be okay.)

And then, Patton heard it. 

“I love you.” 

Patton’s heart skipped a beat. 

Ba-bump...ba-bump…bump… … …

“Patton Morgan, I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

It was the last thing Patton heard before the sun finally fell. 

---

Logan finished shelving the last of the books in his cart. He stifled a yawn behind his fist as he made his way to the end of the aisle, about to turn the corner when– 

“Ahhh!"

A man collided with the end of his cart, sending the books in his hand tumbling to the ground, as well as a slight jolt throughout Logan’s entire being. His eyes widened. 

“I am terribly sorry,” Logan said, immediately kneeling down to pick up his fallen books. The man, to his surprise, laughed. The noise made Logan’s heart skip a beat. 

“Not a problem!” He kneeled down as well to help Logan pick up the books. 

They made eye contact for a split second. 

Logan never saw eyes filled with so much warmth. 

“My fault for wanting to book it before this place closes, ya know?” He laughed again, and Logan nervously laughed as well. 

“I don’t understand,” Logan said, “but...it’s okay?” 

The man gave him a small smile as they both stood up. Logan felt as if he was staring at him forever — so long that he felt like he needed to introduce himself. 

“My name is Logan Fray.” He outstretched his hand. “And you are?” 

“Patton Morgan!” He shook his hand with a wide smile. It was so bright, it nearly burned right through him. 

They exchanged a small conversation; mostly about the book Patton was taking out, and the books Logan recommended he take out. 

And after a few more seconds of staring at each other,

(God, why was he staring this much ?)

Patton shyly spoke up. 

“I don’t usually do this,” he said, “but...um, would you like to maybe have coffee sometime? Maybe?" 

Logan couldn’t help but smile. 

“I’d enjoy that, actually.” He pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and handed it to Patton; who smiled and took it, taking a silly photo of himself before putting in his number and handing it back to Logan. 

Logan sent him a quick “Hello!” and it wasn't long until he heard a buzz from Patton's back pocket.

“Well, it’s a date then!” Patton scratched the back of his neck, almost flustered at the noise. “I’ll see you soon, Logan!” 

Logan smiled and nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”

-

reblogs would be wonderful <3

[candytuftgirl]

Somnia

A Secret Santa fic for Amylion! (My dumbass couldnt find your tumblr ashfg).

I hereby present this... mess. Probably not what you were asking for (definitely not; Im so sorry I just realized I didnt use the prompts they were going to come up later on RIP) and maybe a tinsy bit cringe-worthy.  There was supposed to be more, but yeah; here’s some good-natured kid Leia and Dad Vader, with a pinch of prophetic dreams for zest.

Well, I tried. 

(Also, this one shot was not beta’ed, I die like the horrible mess of a writer I am)

The hallways are dark.

The shadows that surround a few illuminated viewports create frightening monsters, if one had the right imagination for it. What was worse was that she was alone. There were no droids, white masks or suit-people in sight.

If she were younger, maybe she’d ask a droid to accompany her on this late night journey. But no; she was a big girl now (Seven! That was two fingers more than a whole hand) and besides, her daddy didn’t really like them much.

He didn’t like a lot of things, but there were some he disliked more than others. And she noticed, which was why she was walking alone, in the dark, the metal caging her in from the side. And she’s not scared. Not at all.

Still, if she squeezes Mr. Catty just a bit too tight that was just because he was shivering so much.

The big silver doors are in view soon enough, and she shuffles a bit faster when she notices them. It doesn’t even take a moment before they silently open. She walks in, the doors close and the familiar whirring noise echoes all around her.

“Leia.” Her daddy steps out of the dark, his breathing machine the only constant source of sound in the room. He’s tall, dark and shiny- just like he was when he put her to bed. It calms her; and Mr. Catty.

He absently waves a finger, turning the lights on as he steps closer to her small form. “Angel, what’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead she walks over with her bare feet (she was going to get a scolding for that for sure), Mr. Catty firmly in hand and looks up at her father’s dark mask. The staring only lasts a moment.

There’s a small hitch in the constant whirring noise, like an exhausted little sound, and her father firmly picks her up and sits himself down on a nearby chair. She’s on his knee, one black gloved arm still around her while she makes herself comfortable, and now it’s just her father’s strange mask that stares down at her.

Leia doesn’t hesitate. “I had a strange dream daddy.”

She didn’t dream often, but when she did, she always dreamed of strange things. A cave filled with crystals, shining so brightly she swore she heard them sing. An underwater city, beautiful; but there were fish people standing on top of buildings, crying, screaming: “Traitor, traitor!”.

A moon made out of metal, with a heart that screeched in pain.

Everyone always said her dreams were silly, and she was making too much of a fuss about them. Overactive imagination, her retelling a version of a story she read somewhere; one suit-man even accused her of lying once! The more she talked about them, the less everyone who heard them believed her.

Sometimes, Leia thought that if it weren’t for her daddy, their gentle reprimands would turn scathing.  

She knew she shouldn’t have shared her dreams, knew most never believed her, but she couldn’t help herself; they all felt so real to her in a way. Why couldn’t other people understand that?

She knew better now. All the droids and suit-people dismissed her worries so she dismissed them as well; except for her daddy.

He never said she was making things up, and he always listened.

“It was a dry place.” Leia began, fumbling with Mr.Catty’s stuffed legs. She tried to remember. “Like, really dry. Everything was orange and the ground was bright and smooth; with all these little pebbles on them.” She shook her head lightly. “Oh no, they were even smaller than that: tiny, little pebbles. And there were no trees, or rivers, or-“

“A desert.” Her father stated, quickly cutting off her rambling. “You were dreaming of a desert.”

She scrunched her little button nose up at him. “A desert? Like, dessert?”

“No. A desert is a barren wasteland, largely inhospitable, dry and covered in sand; the tiny pebbles.” He explained, and she files away this new revelation in her mind. “I believe the chocolate waffles you had for breakfast this morning don’t fit the same description.”

Uh-oh. She cringed, fumbling her fingers around her stuffed toy. “Oh- you know about that?”

So she might have eaten sweets for breakfast this morning. Really, though, it hadn’t been her fault! She was alone with the droid in the kitchen, and it did ask her what she wanted for breakfast. And she really didn’t want to eat porridge filled with fruits, vitamins and all the “healthy necessities her body required to grow”. Besides, she was sure chocolate waffles made her grow more than that mush anyway.

“We will discuss your punishment tomorrow.” Leia made a face at that; she really didn’t want to scrub her room clean. Again. Her father’s mask turned towards her wriggling feet. “Where are your socks?”

“-So anyway.” She continued undeterred. “I was in a desert. But I wasn’t alone. There was a boy there too.”

Her father straightened a bit more at that. He always did, whenever she dreamed of someone. “What kind of boy?”

She shrugged. “A boy. I guess he was like me- except, well, he’s a boy.” Leia thought about him for a bit; the boy that inexplicably drew her attention more than any scary dream ever had. “He was blonde, with blue eyes- and his clothes were too big.”

She furrowed her eyebrows in concentration, trying to recall the image of a boy in large white sleeves chasing furry creatures across the ground. “He was kinda scruffy looking.”

“Language.” Her father quietly added, though it was more of an automatic response than anything. “Is that all?”

“Umm, he was chasing some weird rat; I guess he was playing a game and-“

“I mean, was there anyone else in the dream?”

Leia shook her head, expression serious as she looked up at her daddy. With her chubby cheeks and button nose, she looked far too adorable to emulate any kind of sobering face but that hardly stopped her from trying. Like a little queen waiting for her adviser’s opinion, she stared at her father while he thought about her dream.

Her father’s mask stared off in a vague direction, head tilted as he considered what she said. The longer he remained in that position, the more Leia’s heartbeat echoed in her head. This is important then. Daddy must think so too.

It didn’t scare her; it made her strangely giddy. Like that boy was a puzzle piece, something she unknowingly needed to complete the distorted picture in her life.

“It’s nothing like your… usual visions.” His rough voice brought her back from her daydreams. Black mask meeting her large chocolate eyes, her father stated his final judgment. “No. I do not believe it really means anything, angel. Maybe it really was just a dream.”

Mr.Catty made a straining nose from the pressure of her tiny fingers.

In hindsight, this information was wonderful. She often came to her father, crying her eyes out because she hated all the scary dreams she was having, and she didn’t want them anymore. The fact that this dream might have been just that; a dream, not a nightmare, not reality…

Leia hated it.

“No daddy!” She yelled suddenly, wiggling free and sliding down to the floor. It caught her father off guard, too surprised to stop her.

With red cheeks she stared up at him, and all his black glory. “He was real. I know he was.”

“Leia…”

“No!” She threw Mr. Catty to the floor, angry tears appearing in her narrowed eyes. “You think I’m making things up! Like everyone else!”

“Leia.”

Her father got up, voice cold as the atmosphere in the room shifted. No longer approachable, but massive; He stared down at her in the oppressive silence, hands on his hips, looking like a mountain that would break the earth before it would bend.

A scary sight, one that many feared. Leia was no match for that; small, with her chin trembling, and wet, sloppy tears already rolling down her cheeks. She couldn’t even compare.

Still, she refused to back down.

She knew her daddy was angry, and he was probably going to be even angrier the more she continued this staring contest; but- I’m angry too!

After all, out of all the people in her life, it was her father who was supposed to believe her no matter what. The fact that he didn’t, that he thought it was all a dream…

That hurt her.

The staring continued. The tension rose. Before she knew it, the temperature in the room dropped some more. She vaguely wondered if she was going to freeze up. Like those poor people in the vacuum of space, ones that fell under fire and drifted out of reach into an asteroid field. No one went back for them. Nobody even tried.

Would her father leave her like that, all alone? Here in this room, like a sculpture? Would she be able to see? Move? Become a statue for eternity?

It was a daunting thought, the coldness seeping through her jammies and into her skin now. She couldn’t stop shaking; the fear was swallowing her, but she wouldn’t-

It wasn’t until she glanced at Mr. Catty laying on the floor that realization set it and the fear stilled. Eyes straying away from the black void of her father, she took a few steps to her fallen toy, the coldness subsiding as well.

Gingerly picking him up, she muttered a quick apology to her favorite friend, facing her father as the tears roamed unchecked now.

“I-I’m sorry Daddy…” The hiccuping made it harder to speak. “But, but-“

She was full on sobbing now, and just like that, the atmosphere in the room shifted back to normal. The coldness subsided, the warmth came back and she couldn’t stop crying.

Her father made that whirring exhausted little noise, before slowly bending his knees in a crouch so they were more at eye level (Leia didn’t like how he towered over her so much, so piggybacks were still an often occasion).

It was a bit comical to see her tall and menacing father lost as to what to do, his tiny daughter shaking and desperately trying to rub away all the evidence of her uncontrollable tears.

“Oh no, angel not your-“ The warning was too late, as she blew her nose into her sleeves. They were icky already, but she kept smearing her tears in them. Her father quickly battered her attempts away. He looked around, his shoulders slumping some more. 

Soon enough, she was blowing into a soft and leathery like material; her father sacrificing his shiny black gloves, gently wiping away the grime and the snot from her small face.

He was probably going to make that sad little whirring noise about that later, but for now, he remained composed.

“Calm down, angel.” He spoke as gently as he could with his distorted voice, his own version of Sssh, sssh- don’t cry now. 

“I’m sorry, daddy.” Leia stared at his black, droid like mask with her puffy eyes. She made a few more hiccuping noises, before croaking out the truth she knew in her heart. “But… but he’s important.”

“The boy from your dream?” She nodded. “How so?”

“Be-because!” She wiped the remains of her tears away, frantically trying to explain to her father the underlining importance of it all. It was so clear to her, didn’t he understand? “I saw him, daddy. I saw him jump around rocks, kick rats; fix- or maybe he was breaking- droids-!“

Another memory appeared in her head, one that makes her smile. “And he stares at the sunset daddy! Like you stare out the viewport. He must be real.”

This knowledge didn’t seem to appease her father; if anything, it seemed to do the opposite. The coldness in the room came back with alarming ferocity, before it changed into something incredibly hot, like a blazing sun- and then she could breathe again.

Her father’s shoulders slumped lightly, before he started to reach out his hand to her. He stopped, probably remembering the sobbing incident, and pried his gloves off, gently laying his hands down on her small shoulders. Leia tried her best to not shiver from the cold metal prosthetics. They glinted in the light, fake fingers squeezing her softly.

(Once, a long time ago, when she was still curious about her father’s strange suit, she had asked him if he was a droid. She couldn’t see it, but she just knew her daddy became very sad, and she instantly felt bad about it.

“No, not completely” he said.

She never asked again.)

“Leia.” He had her complete undivided attention. “The dream you had was real. But it was only a vision of the past.”

“The past?” She repeated, blinking as her father retracted his hands from her. But that would mean… “Really?”

“Really.”

The boy she dreamed about was real, as real as her heart in her chest. But it was a boy from before, not now. A boy from the past.

She felt an uncomfortable weight settle inside her.

“How do you know?” It couldn’t be true- the boy she saw was here, now, like she was- and he was important. She just knew it. “Did you… know him?”

“Once.” Her father looked away, like when he looked through viewports at the stars; like the boy. “I knew him, once.”

Her father was many things, but he wasn’t a liar.

She sagged with that newfound knowledge, tired and sad all at once, Mr.Catty limp in her hold. A boy from the past- it hurt her in a way she couldn’t explain, like a goal she could see as plain as day evaporated just beyond her reach. He had seemed so real (was he still real?), and now…

Just a boy from before. It felt like the truth.

And yet, there was still a part of her that believed differently.

There was shuffling in the background, her father’s loud stomps echoing in the room. Looking up, she saw him searching for something in his sleek metal closet. He only had one in his room.

Or was it an office- that term would perhaps better serve to describe his room (he didn’t even have a bed; sometimes Leia thought the plush chairs and sofa were there only for her benefit).

Most would have called it an office- if it wasn’t for the large bacta tank standing at the other end.

She opened her mouth when he walked back to her, but he stopped her new bouts of questions by deftly picking her up- new and shiny, clean black gloves in place.

“Enough. It’s late.” That was his order-voice now. The one that didn’t allow protests. She slumped a little in his hold.

The walk back through the shadowed corridors wasn’t as scary as before, and Leia rested her cheek on her father’s broad shoulder as he swallowed the distance between their rooms in short time.

He put her back to bed, exchanging her star shirt for a clean one with lothcats, and tucked her in. Opening her closet, he made sure to look inside before closing it again. A nightly ritual for checking monsters. No matter how many times he assured her that there was nothing scarier than him around, Leia insisted. That late-night holo she saw still made her shiver.

Besides, her daddy wasn’t that scary.

Smoothing down the hair on her head, Mr.Catty snuggled up beside her, he straightened and pointed a finger at her in warning (like he did at the suit-people, though his voice wasn’t so cold): “Now, sleep.”

He left. She shifted to find a more comfortable position, obeying the silent order and closing her eyes. Before drifting off, she repeated the words she knew rang true in her head; her heart.

The boy is real. Like me. I know it.

[disregardcanon]

A decade in fanfiction

The meme template was made by me myself and I! Please, if you’re interested go ahead and do it! I would love to see other people reflecting on their writing right along with me :) 

Where can we read your fic? Please give us a link so that we can check these stories out!

my early fics can be read on my ffn The Ficsmith 

on ao3, my pseuds are sunkelles and fullmetal anime

I also have lots of short things here on tumblr. i would try searching a favorite fandom of yours and au on my blog and something might pop up. 

How many words of fanfiction have you written this decade?

On ao3, I have posted  1,031,824 words. I would bet that I posted 40k on ffn before i started posting concurrently to my ao3, and that i’ve posted maybe 80k of stuff just to tumblr? If I estimate that way and don’t think about unfinished works and wips, I’d say 1,151,824 words thereabouts. 

How many stories have you written?

I’ve posted 338 stories to ao3. I am not going to go do the math to add on my stories from ffn as well. 

Have you written on multiple websites? If so, which website is your favorite and why?

ao3 is my favorite website for fic because it’s just so EASY to search through, post to, and get your stats from. plus it’s very visually appealing. 

Have you used multiple pen names? If so, list them and tell us the story behind the name

on ffn, i used a lot of pen names over the years, but i only remember 3 of them 

1. thee sun. this was my first pen name on the internet and it was because back then, my friends and i had series of nicknames going where we were each a part of the solar system. one of my friends suggested that i should be the sun because i was happy and bouncy and the friend group “orbited” around me. it wasn’t really accurate then or now, but sun ended up sticking. 

2. sunless skies was my emo change to that pseud 

3. the ficsmith is my current name there as i thought the word “wordsmith” was badass and decided that ficsmith sounded very, very cool 

on ao3, my primary pseud has always been “sunkelles”. half of it’s the old nickname and half of it’s another nickname i won’t get into. it’s a very personal handle for me that i love dearly 

my second pseud is fullmetal anime, my anime pseud. fullmetal alchemist was one of my first anime when my old roommate got me onto my weeb phase in my twenties, and i thought that sounded too badass to pass up. 

What is the first story you posted this decade?

I Will Never Leave You Alone: this is a percy jackson fic set after the lost hero. It was my imaging of how the meeting in son of neptune might go if percy didn’t get his memories back. it’s bad, but it was my first attempt at fanfiction. i think that it could have been a lot worse. 

What is the last story that you posted this decade?

Not Willing to Wait for it: this is a tangled the series fic about cassandra. it’s not really my favorite thing i’ve ever written, but it’s not a terrible thing to end the decade on either. 

What is the longest story that you have wrote this decade?  

The Poetry of Time and Space: this is a pipabeth fic with annabeth as the doctor and piper mclean as rose tyler fic that i wrote back in 2013 at the urging of my first internet friend. coming in at 27,842 words, it’s the longest fic i have ever written. 

while i wouldn’t call it some of my best work, i’m still fairly proud of the thing. writing it helped me make a friend (even if we don’t keep in touch anymore), it helped me find some cool poetry, and i did a lot of fun historical research for it! 

i learned a loooottt about the history of spain for this fic and it was really cool. 

What is the shortest?

A Good Listener coming in at 192 words, this pipabeth fic is at the polar opposite end of the spectrum. 2013 was a wild year, my dudes. 

What’s your favorite?

I think that choosing a “favorite” would probably be too hard, but the one that I come back to the most is Over the Shadowy Hills. This fic could have been just good, but my friend was like. girl. you need to sort your shit out. and then i deleted it, worked on it with her help, and fixed it into something that i can still be really proud of. I’m glad that I decided to stick with it and give this fic the time and attention that it needed. 

What story do you feel was your biggest challenge?

I don’t have a fic in particular I would say is my biggest challenge, but one challenge has been the growing pains of becoming a better writer. I’ve moved into a point where I need to tell more thorough, longer stories, but I also don’t have the time needed to do that at the moment and my desire for instant validation is fighting against my desires to not do work and be a better writer. 

I know that right now I’m growing as a writer, but I’m not exactly sure what direction I’m growing in and how to deal with it. 

Which story was your most creative?

All Katz Go to Heaven is certainly an idea that no one but me would have come up with XD the premise is “all of hannibal’s victims from the show hannibal die and are reincarnated in brooklyn 99″ 

Which story do you think demonstrates the greatest growth?

I think that Paint a New Horizon demonstrates a lot of my progress as a writer. 

1. coming in at 23k, it’s one of my longest fics ever 

2. it has some of my best visual descriptions ever, as i decided to write sansa as a painter and it make visual descriptions a FAR bigger part of the story than they normally are when i write 

3. it handles dark subject matter, but i feel like i go into well. i’ve found myself dwelling in this universe a LOT, and i think that i might actually go back and write more of it over this next semester or summer because i just. like being in it. even though it was dark, it was also homey and lively and interesting, you know? 

4. it’s the best romance i’ve written this year, hands down. 

Here, have a snippet 

She dared a glance forward and met Margaery’s eyes- a deep, chocolate brown. They were warm and inviting and Margaery’s little curly bangs framed her face like a heart. Margaery’s head went over the back of the booth and it seemed to almost be floating against the flowery wallpaper. It looked like Margaery was lying out in a field of flowers- the Maiden gazing up at the clouds and trying to make shapes of them.

She could imagine Margaery telling her that this one is a flower, like Tyrell, and this one’s a deer, like Baratheon, and this one’s a dick, like Joffrey. She giggled nervously again and felt her cheeks flush. She’d never felt this giddy and unsteady in her whole life.

“Are you alright, Sansa?” Margaery asked cautiously. She reached across the table and laid a hand over Sansa’s own. The touch was warm and tender, and Sansa felt the blush from her toes to the tip of her head.

“I’m perfect!” Sansa nearly screeched. Margaery laughed at that, but her look was kind.

“Yes, darling,” she said with a smile that was wide and fond, “I think that you are.”

Lesbian. The word wasn’t supposed to fill her with such a warm, hopeful feeling, was it? She wiggled awkwardly in her chair, trying to get situated and stop feeling so silly and excited and vulnerable, but it didn’t fix anything. She felt Margaery’s leg brush against hers under the table. It sent a jolt through her.

Lesbian.

Sansa took a shaky breath. She thought to herself that there might be something to that.

Tell us about your writing process.

my writing process is quite frankly all over the board. sometimes, i’ll sit down and just hammer out a fic start to finish in one sitting, but when i don’t do that i’ll make the thing come together in patchwork. i’ll normally start with some vivid pieces of dialogue that i want to write and then i’ll figure out where i’m going and how. often, since i write in a nonlinear fashion i might end up having to change what i’ve written for the middle or the end, but when i get there and it doesn’t feel right for what i ended up writing, i always decide that i’m better off with what feels more natural. 

Tell us about how you come up with fic titles.

I have 3 different systems for determining fic tiles 

1. come up with a cool title to write a fic around. i wrote Chasing Annabeth solely because i thought that would be badass title 

2. try to find something external to the story, like a saying, a lyric or quote, that works with the message or mood of the story. for If You Believe in Me (I’ll Still Believe), I realized that both Memoria by Nirvana and Holland Road by Mumford and Sons shared a distinct feel with what I was doing with the fic, so I went through the lines of both and identified some possible titles. 

Then, I decided that the line “if you believe in me I’ll still believe” felt the most right. I thought that it best conveyed how much Jeyne believing that Theon could become better again contributed to him actually going through with it, whereas some of the other options didn’t have either the external influence or faint hope that I felt the fic deserved. 

3. find something from the fic itself or the source material! often times, i’ll end up with a motif in the fic that makes a perfect title, or i’ll have something to draw on from the source material. this feels different from the 2nd option because whereas that first one is going outside the world of the fic, this 3rd one is going inside the world of the fic. 

Have you ever used an epigraph? Tell us about your reasoning.

I use epigraphs for the same reason that I use outside sources for fic titles. While sometimes I have that lyric or quote in mind while I am writing the fic, like Washing Machine Heart, sometimes you get to the end of writing and realize that you’ve created something that would be enhanced if you were to have your readers mulling over the theme brought up in a song while they’re reading, like Unfinished Business. 

I don’t know, these are probably the reasons that ANYONE uses epigraphs, but it’s cool to see other people’s thought process. 

What are some of your favorite lines that you’ve ever written?

Here’s a few of my favorite exchanges from my older or more underrated fics!

She swallows the spit that has started to pool in her mouth and continues, "We'll all end up dying and meeting the void face to face and blah blah fucking blah, but the thing is that's tomorrow. This is today. You remember Thalia, so she matters. And you matter because you're alive. Your heart's still beating. You can still do shit. See shit. Be the shit. Annabeth Chase, you can still do anything."

Chasing Annabeth (2013)

Annabeth tsks as she laughs, “You’ve always got to steal the attention for yourself, don’t you?”

Piper laughs and then pretends to glare, “Borrow. I borrow things.”

“Borrowing BMWs is still frowned upon, my friend,” Annabeth says and then everything is back to normal. The future is forgotten, if only for a moment in the company of a friend.

The Fates Smiled (2014) 

“I guess,” Arya mutters, and she walks straight over to the trash. She pops the lid, and dumps the enormous plastic cock unceremoniously into it. Then she lets the lid close. She and Shireen look to the trash can in horror.

“Do you think that we should burn it?” Shireen asks.

She pauses a moment before she adds, “I’m afraid it’s going to attack us in our sleep.” Arya bursts out into laughter.

“I can hear the news anchors already,” Arya says, “women murdered in sleep by haunted dildo.” The Kids Are Alright (2015) 

"I think huckleberry just came out too," Maya stage-whispers back, "two gays for the price of one."

"Bi one get one free," Riley says with a shit-eating grin 

A Guide to Coming Out (2015) 

"Do I look like a man with a plan to you?" He tries to look as crazy as he can. Rachel isn't buying it. "You impersonated a member of the mayor's honor guard, you predetermined and informed us of every victim before you killed them. You're a planner, Joker. You're even a good one." The Joker shrugs. "I'm not a schemer, though. Don't hang my hat on whether or not things work out." In that moment, Rachel understands this man. Rachel understands why he does the things that he does, even though she thinks that he's the scum of the earth. "You wanted to let us know all our plans would fall apart. You wanted chaos." "You're a smart woman, Ms. Dawes," The Joker says, cracking a smile, "you know what I did to you and your boy toy was nothing personal. It was just to turn the schemer's plans on their toes.

The City of Bats and Clowns (2016) 

Zatanna crosses her arms over her chest as she leans against Bruce’s black SUV. The “parking lot” at this camp is a glorified field of grass. It rained last night, and there are muddy ruts left all throughout the field and little muddy puddles scattered everywhere. It’s disgusting and rundown and everywhere that Zatanna doesn’t want to spend three weeks of her summer.

“I don’t want to go to this stupid camp.” Endless Summer (2017) 

Rose feels a twist in her gut. This might be worse than finding out he wanted to desert. This is knowing the reasons behind it, having to see him as human in his mistakes and understand why he made them.

Oh how heroes fall and then stumble back up again.

The Spark That Will Light the Fire (2017)

Sloth is all the memories you have and never asked for, all the feelings you don't know what to do with.

Sloth is your feelings towards two boys who aren't your sons- can't be- because you never wanted them in the first place.

You never asked for this, to be born half-formed and hungry. To be born somewhere between not caring and caring too much, to just go along with what you were told because you don't care enough not to.

You never asked for those two boys to look at you the way they do, like you're something hideous and beautiful all at once. Like you're their sin to bury, their damsel to save. All you've ever wanted is for it all to stop.

The Seven Deadly Almost People (2018) 

What are you favorite characters to write. 

I don’t really have “favorite” characters to write because I bounce around so often. I’ll have a new favorite next year, but my favorite me character that I wrote THIS year was Dabi. 

Which story was the most fun to write.

Out of all the stories I’ve written, Dicks in the Wind comes to mind as being the most fun. The soulmate au where whatever your soulmate draws on their skin appearing on yours might not be my all time favorite, but the idea of spitefully drawing dicks on your own face to spite the soulmate who hurt you while also hurting yourself is both really fun but also really interesting? I really liked getting to explore the implications of that idea, the humor, Sabine’s relationship with Kanan, and the possibility of a reconciliation between her and Ketsu. 

If you use ao3, tell us about your fics with the most

Kudos: The Matter of Soulmates 1,049

Comments: Her Heart’s Duet 63 comment threads

Hits: Golden Cages, Silver Linings 15,272 hits

Subscriptions: The Matter of Soulmates 105 subscriptions

If you could have written one story this decade that you didn’t get around to, what would this have been?

There’s lot of fics that I wish I would have gotten written this decade. I think that if I could have written ONE fic that I didn’t get around to this decade, though, I would have turned my tucker turns ed into a chimera instead of nina tumblr post into a real fic. 

Do you write original fiction as well?

Sometimes! I don’t write it as much as I’d like, but I’ve written some short stories and I have some longer wips. 

Did you ever do nanowrimo this decade? If so, tell us about your projects.

I tried nanowrimo in both 2017 and 2018. My 2017 was a story idea about magic pirates. My 2018 was a story based on a fic idea I had where ed HAD created al like al thought he did in fma 03 for a while. it would feature prominent relationships with characters inspired by winry, wrath, and lust. both of these have about 15k to their name. 

What have you learned writing in the past decade?

I’ve learned a lot about myself as a person. For better or for worse, the easiest way to get to know me would be to go through my ao3 and just start reading. 

I also feel like I’ve learned that I CAN be a writer. While I have a long way to go if I ever want to become any good at original fiction and develop a thick enough skin to get it worked up to publishing shape, I know that I have the skills to at least give it a try.  If I don’t, I’ll always have these stories that I hold closely to my heart and this hobby that’s brought me a lot of joy. 

What are your writing goals going forward?

At the moment, I’m not entirely sure. I feel a little bit like I’ve stagnated and I need to figure out a way forward, but I’m not entirely sure what that way forward IS. I think that the way forward is longer projects (maybe even more original fiction) but I’m going to need to figure out a way to not devote all my mental energy to these projects at a time and also not let them wither and die. 

In the past, I’ve only been able to do proper, well written long fics when I had a LONG time to dedicate to getting the thing done. Like, days and days off that I could devote multiple hours to the writing project. In the future, I don’t think I’ll have that. I just need to find a way to not get SO into it that I can’t do anything else, but also maintain the energy and drive to keep coming back to it. 

Tell us about what aspect of your writing makes you the most proud.

I feel like I excel at word choice. People frequently comment on my fics that there’s something about the wording that just FLOWS, and I would have to agree. I feel like I’m good at choosing words that both sound good and hit emotionally. 

Tell us anything else that you’d like! This is your reflection post, so end on whatever bang you would like!

Thank you to everyone who has supported me over these past nine years! I haven’t been on tumblr for this whole time (i’ve only been here since 2012), but i grown a lot, both as a person and a writer, over this decade.

if you had told me when i wrote my first fanfiction that by the end of the decade i would write the order of the phoenix more than 5 times over in fanfiction, i would never have believed you. 

not every fic that i wrote was fantastic, but every fic that i wrote was MINE, and it’s a memory that i get to come back to when i’m feeling sad or lonely or like i can’t do something. so, thank you fanfiction, for always being there for me. even if you might be there for me a little too much XD

[neko-inu-twins]

by Neko-Inu-Twins

Art by @zeroa5raven​ A/N; Meant to post this earlier WHOOPS- 

     "Aaaand Stay out!!" Cuphead yelled, kicking the devil in the rear as he ran out of the casino, tail between his legs, arm in a sling, completely banged up after being defeated from the dynamic duo- Cuphead and Mugman. The brothers both throwing themselves a victory, as The devil ran for the hills, But aside from all this..Where was King dice?

"Hey bro...Where do you think King dice is? We haven't seen much of him since we defeated him." Mugman turned to his brother, who had his hands placed on his hips, brimming with pride, but his prideful stance faltered as he looked at his worried brother, as he scratched his head in thought. "Uhm ...I'm not sure, bro." Cuphead retorted, scoffing slightly. "But who cares? He's the bad guy, Remember?" Cuphead playfully punched his brother's arm, as mugman stood there, deep in thought. "Aaahh, come on, mug. Don't be like that...Oh! Tell you what-" Cuphead's eyes widened and he smiled as an idea popped into that little head of his, as he grabbed mugman's shoulder, and whispered to him, explaining his little plan. Mugman's eyes lighting up, with the slightest of grins ~~~ King dice panted heavily, as he looked around the casino, everything still in good condition, but the devil's throne... in shambles, what was he going to do without his partner? He was his right-hand man, without the devil, there'd be no deals to make, gambling would be pointless. he sighed, falling to his knees, and looked at his hands with those three-fingered gloves. "I'm ruined.." King dice said with a frown, wincing and rubbing his shoulder. "Those damn Kids sure packed one hell of a Wallop." Dice grunted while standing up. His knees shook, taking one last look around before he gasped looking around wearily. "K-kids! They'll come back to finish me off, no doubt!" Dice chewed his fingers, nail clippings falling to the floor. "I'd better Scram!" and in a panic, he took off running down the hall, looking for a place to hide from those meddling kids ~~~ "So, I say we teach him a little lesson, show him how things are gonna work around here from now on, What do you think, Mug?" Cup grinned, bouncing up and down in excitement. "I love it! -But...We're not going to hurt him any more than we had to, right?" Mug shuddered at the thought of having to hurt any more people than they need to. "What? No nonono- No! Of course not, Everything'll be fine, mug~" Cup smiled at his brother, tugging his arm. "Come on, Let's go find the Crazy Gambler." Cup giggled, opening the door to the casino. "Dice? Diiiice!" Cup called out, glancing around the empty casino, lights flashing, and machines still functioning perfectly, like nothing had ever happened. "Where do you think he is, Cup?" Mugman looked around, wandering off into the casino, looking behind a potted plant, lifting up the plant and dirt, to see if he was inside the pot. "Not sure... But If I were him- he'd be hiding... Not sure why, though." Cup shrugged, Mug dropped the plant back into the pot, giving cup a look of disbelief, and he rolled his eyes, eyes scanning the terrain, he spotted the Devil's throne, and what did he see? only a small bit of tattered Purple cloth lying behind the Throne, with the slight sound of chattering teeth. "Aha!" Mug smiled brightly, grabbing cup's shoulder and shaking it. "cup, Cup! There he is~!" mug grinned, looking at his brother. "Great job, bro!" cup smiled as they both ran to the throne, peeking around both sides of the large chair, fit for a king. But instead, the king was cowering in fear. "Mr. King Dice? Wh- " Mug spoke up, only to be interrupted by Dice screaming, jumping to his feet, and backing away. "Wh-what do you two want?! Leave me alone, already!" Dice slowly walked backward, tripping over his shoes, and falling onto the floor, wincing in pain. "Get him!!" Cup grinned and pointed at dice, pulling his pants up, ready to pounce. "G'AHH!!" Dice whimpered, scrambling to his feet, making a bee-line for the exit, only for mugman to jump out from behind a corner in front of dice. The man screeched to a halt, Turning around to run back to the throne, to find cuphead sitting in it, one leg crossed over the other, smirking fondly at Dice. King Dice grimaced in response, and he looked around in a panic as the two brothers walked toward him, Dice backed up into a corner, fearing for his life. "P-Please, Leave me be!" Dice begged, sliding down against the wall. "What more do you want, Cupface?!" "What do we want?" Cup looked at mug with a smirk. "Go get it." He jerked his head back indicating mug to go fetch the 'thing'. Dice watched as mug disappeared for a few moments, only to return, with something hidden behind his back, Mug's eyes sparkling while cup grinned, standing over dice, only making the man cower in fear more. Dice mentally prayed for his life, and he shut his eyes tightly and covering his head, waiting for the final blow from these sadistic brats. But...Nothing... before dice even managed to look up at the two kids, They pounced, tackling Dice to the floor. cup grabbing dice's arms, and holding them behind his back. "Hold still, now. Please don't wiggle too much-" Mug said reassuringly, as Dice struggled underneath the two kids, as mug pulled out a rope, tying his hands together. mumbling to himself as he tied the knot. "...crisscrossing railroad tracks..make em' tight... Loop the bunny ears, And around the tree..through the tunnel and..Pull!" Mug smiled, as he monologued his way of tying a knot, he seemed proud of his tight knot, Dice squirmed uncomfortably. What the hell were these two up to..? Cup and mug turned Dice over onto his side, Cuphead letting out a sigh, He leaned his elbow against dice's side, looking down at the restrained gambler with a grin. "Well, bro. I guess it's true what they say; You gamble with Fire, You're going to get burned..~" Cup smirked at mug, who was sitting on Dice's legs, playing with his shoes, eventually tying Dice's shoelaces together. "That's a good literal statement, Cup!" Mug looked over his shoulder back at cup and smiled. "It...Was a metaphor, -Anywho!" Cup looked down at dice with a grin, offering a poke to dice's rib "Wanna know what we've got planned for you~?" Cup took notice and smiled as he saw the man give a flinch, and an uncomfortable squirm. "D-Dare I ask??" Dice stammered, looking down at the floor. Since he's got nothing else to live for, he might as well ask. "I've got a Joke for you, Dicey~" Cup grinned, patting the man's sides like a drum, glancing down at him every few seconds with a smile. "wanna hear it?" Dice trembled slightly, as he choked out "If I must..." He said with a slightly strained voice. "Knock-Knock!" Cup started off- "Dice sighed, looking away. "Who's there...?" "Tickle!" Cup answered This startled Dice, as he scrunched his shoulders up, beginning to gain suspicion of what's about to happen to him. "What the H- 'Tickle Who'??" "We're Gonna Tickle You, Silly!" Mug blurted out, giggling to himself as he scooted further up on dice's legs, sitting on his hips, he smiled brightly down at him. "Of course! Why not??" Dice said sarcastically with a sigh, this is it- He's a ruined man, AND he's about to be humiliated, could this day get any worse?? "Soooo...Is that a Yes??" Mug bounced up and down excitedly, his eyes sparkling with joy. "What do you think?! And wipe that stupid look of yer' mug!" Dice snapped at the giddy cup brother. "W r o n g  a n s w e r." Cup growled, staring down at dice, his face darkening, the liquid in his cup-like head was simmering. "Cup?" Mug looked at his brother, who sighed, and smiled at his brother. "Have at it, mug!~" "Ngh!!-" Dice whimpered, he was so screwed. He bit his lip, as mug without hesitation dug his fingers into dice's lower sides. "Yeee~!" Mug squealed with delight, offering a light squeeze to dice's upper ribs. "Mpmmh!!- /Snrrk!/ MNhnhnhHNhN!" Dice shut his eyes tightly, trying to hold back his laughter, his shoulders silently shaking as he strained to keep his dignity "Holding back, Eh?" Cup smirked down at dice, and he shook his head. "That won't last you very long, boyo" Cup looked down at him, scanning his body for any place of interest, and he grinned. "Well, how about THIS!" Cup dug his fingers into the man's ribs, grinning down at him, which immediately threw the dice man into hysterics. "G'AHAHAHAhaHAhaHa!! //Gasp!// St-STOhop it!! STOP IIIIIT!" Dice thrashed, kicking his legs, which proved difficult due to mug sitting on them. He wheezed with deep gruff laughter, which somewhat sounded as if he's been smoking lately, Dice gasped and bucked his hips in an attempt to throw mug off. "KIHIHIhIHhihids!! KnohohoCK It OhOHOhoHOHOFF!!!" Dice threw his head back in laughter, glaring up at the two weakly. "Hmm, Possibly we can make up some sort of an arrangement... IF You're willing to stick with it" Cup smiled down at him. "Oooh! Can I tell him, bro?? Can I? Can I? Pleeease?!" Mug begged, smiling brightly, as he was still poking and prodding at dice's sides, just to keep him laughing, Which was working, Dice looked at both of the two kids with a confused look in his eyes, his laughter still as loud as ever "Sorry, mug, but he's gotta agree to our little deal before we can tell him~" Cup grinned, looking down at the dice man, who was squawking in higher-pitched laughter. "OhohOH GOD!! FIHIHINE! Hahaha!- FINE!! //Wheeze// JUST LEHEHET ME GOHOHOHO DAMMIT!!" Dice honked, hoping the kids would obey his pleads. Cup and mug looked at each other, and they smiled, and they both hopped off, mug pushing dice up, helping him sit up, to catch his breath, whispering 'Sorry, sorry, sorry!" up at him as he huffed deeply, hanging his head, his face flushed with a deep red in embarrassment. Could a dice blush? You wonder. "Now, You're gonna listen to what we've got to say, right?" Cup crossed his arms, grinning smugly. "Hff...Hff...H-Hahh.. I-It's not like I've got no other choice. Sh-...Shoot away, Kid." he grumbled, looking up at him, awaiting cups' offer. "First off- The Casino is still yours." Cup pointed out. "Throw out that awful devil's throne!" Mug added. "Keep it up and running, just like a normal ol' Casino, Up for anyone to play, and have fun in. No more contracts," cup crossed his arms "No more debtors! those poor guys deserve to be let off the hook." Mug piped up "And for Pete's sake-" "NO MORE DEVILS!" Mug interrupted cup, pushing him aside. Dice's eyes were wide, as he stared at the two, struggling to find the right words to say. "Ag-...Dgh...Wh-..?" Dice stammered, his tongue completely twisted "I know, I know, No need to thank us~" Cup bowed "Hold your applause, That is- If you could move your hands to clap with." Cup snickered, pointing at dice who was still up in ropes. "Oh! that's right!" Mug quickly untied his hands, letting Dice go. Dice rubbed his wrists, and he stood up shakily. "Don't worry! we ain't gonna kill you!~" Cup looked up at dice with a grin. "Unless you plan on going back on your word, Otherwise...-" "We'll be back for more!~" Mug giggled, wiggling his fingers, and growling playfully, Dice winced and backed away from Mug. "Ugh..-" "So whaddya say? 'Friends'?" Cup put his hand out to dice for a handshake. "Dice looked down at cup, and he hesitated for a moment, before reaching for cup's hand, mug quickly budding in and putting his hand next to Cup's, as Dice shook both of their hands with his large gloved hand. "Ye got yer'self a Deal, kiddos." Dice nodded and paused for a moment, then he pursed his lips, grabbing cup's arm, picking him up, and throwing him over his shoulder, Cup yelped, as he landed in the devil's padded throne, with stars flying around cup's head, he shook his head and pointed at dice "GET IM' BRO!" Cup grinned, He knew that dice was playing around, But boy was he in for it now- "Ohohoho~!" Mug giggled, wiggling his fingers, staring up at dice "I'm gonna get you!~" "Whelp- It was worth a shot." Dice booked it down the casino, cackling. Mug and cup both chasing him around the casino. Looks like this turned into a game for the three of them, and shortly after he started running, Dice was caught by the boys once more, the gambler's Laughter booming through the casino once again.