#og: washed in the blood
Text
There are two wolves inside of me for this scene before the big boss fight at the end of Act 2.
One is dying of feels over the dialogue options with Gale, and him deciding to choose you over everything else.
The other one is dying for a completely different reason
as all three of the big bads of this game start raising their rings to the sky, and shouting out their element
THIS IS THE FUCKING ABSOLUTE??? THIS??? Not the giant mass of tentacles that said my puny mortal self could never comprehend their being... but this absolutely silly looking brain with it's itty bitty wings and this glowing tiara from Claire's, like they're all about to go get shit faced for Absolute's bachelorette party?
A++++ I am here for this
#grey's bg3 tag#bg3 spoilers#bg3 posting#I'M SORRY#BUT I STARTED GIGGLING MADLY AT THAT STUPID BRAIN#it's so ridiculous i love it#please ignore the discrepancy of blood splatter#i was giggling so much at the brain#i forgot to get enough screencaps#and went back to get more#and was like 'wait i should wash this blood off'#and then once again forgot to get repeats#ari's og campaign
21 notes
·
View notes
Note
Honestly, I'm thinking about what if sukuna's s/o(in his og era and when he's still human) died and they vowed that they meet again in another life and they will love him again
MANY many many many years later, itadori become sukuna's vessel and sukuna met his dead s/o who's reincarnated. They have exact voice, face, attitude and everything. The only thing that changed is their last name and THEY HAVE WEDDING RING AND THEY'RE MARRED TO SATORU
And worst of all, sukuna is still inlove with his s/o and LIVID
Jsdijscusncjsnfjdnfieixjeifndfjjeks😭😭😭😭
When I tell you I had to run home and write this IMMEDIATELY I mean it. What a absolutely amazing idea for a fic, there you go! Please let me know what you think<3
PS: I changed it up just the tiniest bit because it fitted better in the story I had in mind, hope you still like it though
Promises you can't keep
Pairing: former!reader x Sukuna; reader x husband!Gojo
Word Count: 2,5k
Synopsis: When Sukuna realizes that you did not only break your oath to wait until he returns back to you but married Gojo Satoru after 1000 years of him waiting for you, he goes insane.
Warnings: pretty rough language, heavy hurt on Sukuna's side
„Ryomen“, you breathe out, whole body shivering in nothing but grief.
A thick veil of rain and teardrops pours down on the lifeless body of your lover without any mercy. How did this happen? Who on earth would be able to defeat the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of all times? You always thought that this would last forever, that nobody is able to take this blessing away from you. But there he lays, covered entirely in his own blood while you clearly feel that his strength is leaving him with every passing second.
“You need to look at me, (y/n).”
He had so many enemies, countless people who wanted to defeat him. But no one could ever hold a candle to him – no one until now.
“(y/n). Look at me”, he gasps again urgently.
His hand gently caresses your cheek, a grin plastered on his face. You want to bury yourself against his body, close your eyes and pretend that none of this is actually happening, that your lover isn’t dying in front of you. But you know that look on his face all too well – the stare of death. After all, you took enough lives with your own hands to know how this feels.
“You have to promise me something.”
“I’ll promise you everything”, you cry out, holding onto his hand for dear life while the pounding rain seems to soak through your bones.
This is all too much to bear. You want nothing more than stabbing yourself and lie beside him, waiting for death to finally wash over you. But you know he wouldn’t allow that, that he has other plans.
“I taught you how to use cursed technique, use it. And when you do, we’ll meet again, you hear? No matter in which live, I will find you. Promise me that you’ll wait for me.”
“Of course I will. O-of curse I will wait for you”, you mutter.
“This isn’t enough. I need more assurance. Show me that you mean it”, he demands.
Without thinking twice, you use your powers to cut a gaping wound into your very own forearm, running blood mixing with the rain in an instant.
“I swear I will find you in another life and that I’ll love you until that! I insist by my blood, by a blood oath!”
He smiles while you can sense that life slowly begins to leave his weak frame.
“That’s what I wanted to hear…Don’t break your promise, (y/n)”, he mutters, lids so heavy that he’s barely able to keep his eyes open.
“I would never do that”, you reply, determination filling you gaze.
You will do what he told you. You’ll turn yourself into a cursed spirit and live on until you finally meet again.
Until you are finally able to hold Ryomen Sukuna in your arms again.
“Fuck”, you mumble to yourself, scratching your head while you desperately fight against the pictures of Sukuna that occupy your mind.
Even after more than 1000 years, it seems like this man put a spell on you, haunting you even in your dreams. Well, given the fact that your husband just found out one of Sukuna’s fingers disappeared, the wave of your past seems to catch up with you faster than you thought.
Your phone buzzes violently on your nightstand, making you sign in frustration. Who the hell is this? What could be important enough to contact you when you definitely have more urgent problems at the moment?
“I’m busy sleeping”, you mumble into your phone.
“Gojo-san, you need to come here immediately…I found the cursed object”, Megumi’s unusual bothered voice explains briefly.
“Where’s Satoru? I thought he’s around that area too”, you mutter.
“He’s buying sweets at the moment. Can you please just come here? I wouldn’t call you if it’s not urgent.”
You know that Megumi’s right, that he’d never call you if not necessary. But why on earth is your husband out there buying sweets when this is actually his mission?
“Sure. Give me 5 minutes.”
To be honest, it doesn’t really sit right with you to get in contact with Sukuna again, even if it’s only one of his fingers. But he has to be naïve if he thinks you waited for him, right? After all, he was gone for more than 1000 years, swallowed by earth without any sign. When Satoru Gojo came into your world a few years ago, he showed you what life really is about and even accepted the fact that you are half curse half human, protecting you from the elders with every beat of his heart. Yes, you love this man with all your heart. So much that you gave up the idea of getting back together with Sukuna and started a new life with your now husband.
None of this matters, though. Sukuna is sealed, forever trapped in 20 of his fingers. Even if he’s not over you, he won’t have a chance to confront you anyway.
With a swift motion, you get into your car and drive to the location Megumi has sent you earlier. Everything will work out just fine, like always
______________________________________________________________
“Sorry for keeping you waiting Megumi-chan, got stuck in traffic. Oh, who’s your friend?”, you question while eyeing the pink-haired boy in front of you up and down.
“And why on earth is he half naked?”
Meanwhile, Sukuna laughs to himself inside Yuji hysterically. Finally. Finally he found another vessel. Finally he’s able to search for you again. Oh, how much he missed to hold you in his arms, to hear your sweet voice. How have you been? Did you wait for him like you promised? Of course you did. After all, you told him over and over how much you lo-
“Something really bad happened, Gojo-san”, the black-haired boy that caught Sukuna’s attention earlier speaks out while scratching his head.
Sukuna needs to take a closer look. Who is this woman? She surely is attractive, looking almost like…
“Come on Megumi-chan, stop being so shy and call me (y/n) already.”
You. His heart drops, gaze hungrily soaking up your striking sight. Oh, you didn’t change at all, looking exactly like he remembers you with your wry grin and delicious curves. He waited for this exact moment more than a thousand years.
Finally.
Finally he’ll be able to hold you in his arms again, to rule the world with you by his side like the both of you always imagined. Can this day get any better?
“I prefer Gojo-san, though. After all you’re married to Gojo-sensei.”
…
What was that? Married? And that name…He heard it before. It belongs to the current strongest jujutsu sorcerer.
His stomach turns. This can’t be true, it has to be a misunderstanding. Back then, you made it very clear that you’ll wait for him no matter what happens, he showed you how to reincarnate yourself, he is the one responsible for you still walking on this earth.
You…You wouldn’t betray him like that, right?
“Anyway. What is so bad that you had to call me? And where’s the cursed object?”
“I ate it”, Yuji explains briefly.
Time stands still as you can only stare in disbelief at the boy in front of you, too stunned to speak. Fuck, this is bad. This is very very bad. Not only because that poor teen will probably die, but because it means that he’s reincarnated. Sukuna is back walking on this earth, free to do whatever he pleases. And you know well enough that this could be the end of everything.
“He ate it?”, you repeat with low voice.
Your heart seems to stop beating, your usual so confident smile fades away in the wind.
“Yup”, both boys confirm your worst nightmares.
You need to take a step back, to get a hold on yourself while your finger plays with your wedding ring. This is bad, this means trouble, this is the worst thing that could have possibly happen.
“Gojo-san, are you okay?”, Megumi asks, voice filled with concern.
It’s like you’ve forgot how to breathe, your lungs refusing their service. The eyes of that boy, that orbs that are filled with nothing but innocence and kindness. If you look close enough, you can tell that he’s inside him.
“Get that moron here right now”, you hiss, turning around to face Megumi so fast that your head begins to spins.
Fuck, what are you supposed to do? There are exactly two options:
1. Ryomen forgot about you anyway and will continue his cruel plans
2. He does in fact remember your promise very well and still has feelings for you.
While option one is pretty bad already, you are almost certain that option two is equal to the end of the world. Ryomen is fucking cold-hearted, sadistic and selfish. The only time he ever opened up in his entire life was for you. Oh, you just knew how to make him soft, how to make a thoughtful lover out of a man that wanted to burn the entire world down.
“Long time no see, (y/n).”
You feel like fainting, mouth dry like the desert. It’s his voice. And god, it sounds as horrible and unpromising as 1000 years ago.
“You look younger than I expected”, you comment dryly while turning around.
The worst thing you could do right now is showing him your weakness. You know this man all too well to be aware of the fact that he’ll use everything against you he can grasp.
“And you look like a cheating whore.”
His voice makes the blood freeze in your veins in an instant. He isn’t just mad. No, he’s absolutely furious.
“Ouch, that are some rough words to say.”
Before you have time to even comprehend what’s happening, he grabs your wrists and forces you to look at him, tight grip making your skin burst.
When you look into his eyes, you can see nothing but hatred and disgust in them – a mixture that makes your guts turn.
“Is this a wedding ring on your finger, (y/n)?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.
“You were gone for over 1000 years. How long did you expect me to wait for you?”
Your voice isn’t more than a fade whisper, completely swallowed by the threatening way he stands in front of you.
“You swore. You fucking swore.”
“I moved on. I found a man who truly loves me and I love him with all my heart, without any fear or pursuit of power. He accepts me the way I am, he fights for me-“
“And I didn’t do that?”, he yells so hostile that you flinch.
“He showed me that I don’t have to subjugate people. The jujutsu sorcerers at Jujutsu High accept me the way I am, I would even say they like me. And admiration is so much better than submission. I changed my view of the world and this view doesn’t match your fucked up one at all.”
Sukuna can’t believe it. All these fucking years, he waited for you patiently. You were the only thing that occupied his mind, the empire you could have built together. Are you really giving that up because of a random man that put a ring on your finger? Are you giving this life of luxury and nonchalance up for some brats? This doesn’t sound like you at all.
“The (y/n) I knew gave nothing about all of these things”, he spits atyou.
“The (y/n) you knew died a long time ago”, you reply.
He hates the way his heart burns in agony because of your words and how he feels like falling apart. He is the king of curses, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of all times. You should be happy that he chose you to stay by his side, to support him while he reaches his goals. Why on earth do you choose a miserable life like this over him?
It doesn’t matter.
“Then you are my enemy and I’ll kill you.”
“Here I am everybody! Look what I’ve bought!”
There has probably never been a moment in your life when you were so happy to hear the voice of your husband.
“That boy eat the finger, Satoru”, you explain briefly without breaking eye contact with your former lover.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“So you’re Sukuna, huh?”, Gojo mutters besides you.
Something inside Sukuna snaps. Instinctively, he lunges himself at Gojo, over and over trying to punch into his pretty face. Is this really the man you chose over him, the man you decided to marry despite the promise you’ve made?
“You have something that belongs me”, Sukuna states, pure hatred dripping from his voice.
“I know you want my woman back because she had a thing with you a thousand years ago. But I need to disappoint you: she’s mine now”, Gojo replies with a cheeky grin.
All the countless nights you spent together, the humans you killed on each other’s side, the empire the two of you built back then in your era. And this is your replacement? He can’t help but feel…
Grief. Fuck, even if he’d never admit it out loudly, you were the only thing besides his powers that Sukuna really valued, maybe even loved. He shouldn’t care about things like this, about your new lover. But he’s absolutely livid, the thought of this man touching the body that belongs to him making him see nothing but red.
Over and over, he tries to beat Gojo Satoru, to show him that he is not to be trifled with. But even though that annoying brat acts as his vessel now, there are still 19 parts of him missing. To beat this man, he’ll definitely need more than one part of his soul.
“C’mon, get back on track boy, don’t let this old fart take over your body”, Satoru speaks to Yuji.
Slowly but surely, Sukuna feels the control slipping through his fingers. No, he isn’t done yet, he has to kill the man that proclaimed you, he has to force you to stay with him at any cost. He waited to damn long for this moment, he can’t lose control now-
“Man, that is really annoying”, Yuji speaks out with his usual voice.
You can tell immediately that he’s gone, almost falling backwards in relief. That was a damn close call. If Satoru wouldn’t have made it one time, who knows what would have happened.
“Are you alright, sweetheart?”, Satoru asks softly, hand placed on your back in order to support your trembling body.
“Yeah. Just a little surprised to see my ex after 1000 years I guess”, you breathe out.
All Sukuna is able to do is sit down and watch as this fucker wraps his arms around you and places a small kiss on your forehead, asking you over and over if you’re okay and what happened.
This is unacceptable. You are his and his alone. He will not allow another man to touch you, let alone marry you.
He leans back in his chair and lets himself close his eyes for a brief moment. No, Sukuna won’t allow you to be happy. Even if it’s the last thing he’ll do, he’ll kill Satoru Gojo as soon as an opportunity presents itself.
“I’m coming for you, (y/n).”
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk season 2#jjk season two#jjk hurt#jjk imagines#jjk shibuya arc#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#gojo satoru#gojo saturo#gojou satoru x reader#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#sukuna ryomen#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna jjk#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x y/n#jujutsu kaisen ryomen#ryomen x reader#jjk ryomen
638 notes
·
View notes
Text
HEY BLONDIE — LEO + DAUGHTER OF POSEIDON
masterlist | rules
♡ dedicated to covey @hopelesslyromanticshark the blueprint for the poseidon girlie x leo trope 😇 lovey > caleo 4eva (even the ship name is cuter!)
❝ daughter of poseidon x leo valdez!!!!! ❞ — anon
in which leo dates a daughter of poseidon
pairing leo valdez x poseidon!reader
warnings percys a bit of an ass in this lowk sorry guys (he didn't mean it i promise!!!), they have tech, andddd i lowk hate this but i haven’t posted in three days so 🙁 maybe i’ll rewrite it someday!!
on the radio . . . hey blondie (dominic fike)
an i’ve been DYING for someone to request this combo i love it sm …. also OGs remember when my bio was hey blondie 🫡 reader isn’t blonde dw (i’m not even blonde myself) !! also reader is a year younger than percy (making her the same age as leo)
Leo didn’t know Percy had a sister. Maybe he was living under a rock (he was - Leo spent the majority of his days at Bunker 9), but he just hadn’t considered the possibility of it, with Percy being a child of the big three and all
If Leo had known of your existence sooner, he would’ve burnt down Bunker 9 himself and spent the rest of his days glued to your side. He had met many people, but none as perfect and charming as you
You see, the boy was simply going to pass by Cabin 3 to show Percy this new gadget he’d made for him and see if he wanted to hang out sometime, since Leo hadn’t seen Percy in a while, when he met you - Y/N, Percy’s younger half-sister
“Hello, may I help you?” You asked, opening the front door of your cabin and being met with a boy with curly brown hair and big brown eyes. Immediately, you felt the heat radiating off of him increase and all of a sudden his brown curls were on fire
As a child of Poseidon, naturally, you’ve never been fond of fire, so this freaked you out. Knowing the water fountain was right behind you, you controlled the water with your hands and shot it at Leo, putting out the fire and drenching him in the process
Leo didn’t care, though. You could drown him for Hephaestus’ sake and he’d still come crawling back - okay, maybe that was a little much. He took in your worried expression and a wave of guilt washed over him as he realised how afraid you were
“I’m sorry, I have a hard time controlling my fire powers sometimes… Where’s Percy?” He asked, not even bothering to question your Godly heritage. You were very clearly a daughter of Poseidon
After that, things calmed down between you two. You let him in and although you were wary of Leo (and sat as far away from him as possible without being labelled as rude), patiently listened as he explained why he was looking for your brother
He then showed you the gadget he made and when Leo saw the way your eyes lit up at its mechanisms, he knew his life would no longer be complete if you weren’t in it
You gushed over the thing, pressing the buttons over and over again (which Leo didn’t have the heart to tell you would wear them down) and showering him in compliments - something that has never happened to Leo before
A grin made its way onto his lips. Sure, people have praised his creations before, but none of them did it the way you did, nearly bursting with excitement as you tried to handle it with utmost care
Part of Leo wished Percy would never come back to cabin 3 ever again, but speak (in this case, think) of the devil and he shall appear. That was his unfortunate cue to leave
He quickly showed Percy how to handle the device and was about to leave when you stopped him. Leo almost couldn’t believe his ears and almost leaped for joy when he heard you ask if you could pass by his cabin sometime, since you really wanted to see more of his stuff
That was the beginning of the most iconic friendship in Camp Half-Blood history
You quickly discovered you had a lot in common and so, you became attached at the hip. It was so bad that whenever someone was asked where one of you were, they’d give the location of the other since they knew there was an incredibly high possibility of you being together
Leo taught you how to use a screwdriver and weld and I can’t think of a third thing people who make machines do but you get the gist! And in return, you taught him how to swim
His ability to swim (or lack thereof) was something which was brought up your very first time hanging out together at bunker nine. After many attempts, you finally successfully hammered a nail into a piece of metal (fyi I’m a daughter of Demeter I know absolutely nothing about this subject) and in your enthusiastic state insisted you go to the beach together
At your suggestion, Leo got awfully quiet and began shyly playing with a stray piece of metal. Your eyebrows furrowed, confused for a second about the shift in his behaviour, when it finally clicked
“Oh my Gods, Leo, do you not know how to swim?” You asked, hesitant - you didn’t want to embarrass the poor guy. He looked up at you and nodded, pouting at the way your lips wobbled as you tried not to giggle. You weren’t laughing at him, of course, you just thought it was really cute
Grabbing him by the arm, you began to drag him to your cabin and said, “c’mon, I’ll teach you! It’ll be like me repaying you for teaching me how to do all the fancy things you do with metal!”
You guys started going to the beach more often after that. At first, you were just teaching Leo how to be in a body of water and not drown, but once he got the hang of it you started having swimming competitions and introducing him to all your fish friends!
They’re always telling you to hurry up and confess because it's so obvious that you like Leo and you keeping it to yourself isn’t doing you any favours but you can’t. Why? Because you don’t think Leo likes you back
Meanwhile Leo’s sitting on the sand next to you admiring the way you seem to gain life by being near a body of water, having to push his fire powers down whenever you’d pull him closer to you, the only thing filling the space between you being the water of the ocean
You are quite literally Mr and Mrs Oblivious. Everyone can tell you like each other but yourselves
It’s actually really funny because you run in the same circles so you tend to complain to the same people about how the other can’t tell you like them and they’re just sitting there trying SO hard not to facepalm
Most of the time you two go to Annabeth, simply because she’s the only one you believe can keep a secret as big as your crushes. Unfortunately for you she and Percy come as a packaged duo, which means Percy’s aware
She didn’t mean to tell him but one time after a heated discussion with you where you analysed Leo’s every move it was still fresh on her mind and she let it slip
Ever since then, Percy’s been eyeing Leo, who’s definitely noticed the behaviour switch. It’s not like Percy had anything against you dating - you were only a year younger than him, after all, and you never tried to stop him and Annabeth from dating - but he couldn’t help but feel a little protective
An extra year of life still made you his baby sister! He’d insist to Annabeth that it doesn’t bother him and Leo is a good guy and his friend so he’s happy that the two of you reciprocate each other’s feelings then turn and give the poor boy a glare so terrifying it’d make a hellhound cower in fear
While all of this is happening, Leo’s freaking out. He’s absolutely losing his mind because all of a sudden Percy no longer likes him which means he’s probably noticed he likes you and disapproves of your potential relationship
All these thoughts cause him to spiral and eventually distance himself from you. It was just occasionally rejecting plans but then it turned into him somehow always being busy, and it broke your heart
Percy, being the kind and loving brother he is, asked you what was wrong on one of those days and you had to fight the urge to burst into tears as you told him about how you thought you did something to hurt Leo
You see, Leo was your first real friend at camp. Sure, you had other friends, but they were all just casual acquaintances you’d talk to whenever you happened to see them. Leo was your first best friend, which meant a lot
In that moment, Percy knew what he had to do
“Hey, why’re you avoiding Y/N?” Percy asked, barging into bunker nine, his arms crossed as he stared down Leo, who was busy making something (as usual)
Leo, who hadn’t been fully listening, looked up to find none other than Percy Jackson standing in front of him, “what?” He asked, his eyes widening
“I said, why are you avoiding my sister?” He repeated, the scowl on his face deepening. Percy was usually a pretty nice guy, but that could change really quickly if anyone ever even thinks of hurting his loved ones (loyalty is his fatal flaw after all)
Putting his tools down, Leo stood up, suddenly defensive. Why was Percy putting the blame on him? He was the reason Leo decided to talk to you less in the first place. Doing that to you really hurt Leo, but he wasn’t going to let himself get close to you just to end up heartbroken and without two friends in the end
“Do you hate her all of a sudden, is that it? Because if that’s the case, you should at least be kind enough to voice those thoughts so she can find new friends–”
“Dude, I love Y/N. Who put that in your head?” Leo interrupted, “I’m avoiding Y/N because I’ve seen the way you look at me, Percy. I get it, you’re not happy that I like her, and I don’t want to bother you or put a strain in your relationship, so I’ve distanced myself.”
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He avoided you because he loved you, because he didn’t want there to be any trouble between you and your brother because of him, and yet somehow here he was being accused of hating you?
You’re the first person Leo truly felt love for ever since his own mother. How could he hate you
“Tell her,” Percy said. He felt immensely guilty as the realisation that he was the reason why you’d almost lost your crush and best friend hit him. He never meant for it to go this far, and honestly, the glances weren’t even purposeful - he just couldn’t help it
“She likes you too, literally everyone at camp knows it, you’ll be fine. And Leo, I’m really sorry I made you feel that way. I didn’t mean to, honestly, I just really care about Y/N and don’t want her to get hurt. But I know you won’t hurt her, so… I approve.”
When I say Leo ran so fast to your cabin that he left a whole trail of fire behind him, I’m not exaggerating. He passed by Flowers and Vines (Demeter + Dionysus kid flower shop/fruits market iykyk) and set their crops on fire, quickly making himself their mortal enemy
He couldn’t care less though. You liked him back! In a few moments, he’d confess and you’d agree to date him and you’d finally be his
And confess he did <3 you were a little mad at Percy at first for unintentionally separating the two of you but after three days’ worth of grovelling you were fine
You couldn’t be too mad, after all, since you now had your fireboy
(The crowd cheers!!!! After 5 pages of backstory you get actual dating hcs)
Okay so I just want to start by saying that Leo is literally like a raven or a cat or whatever animal it is. He’s constantly finding the randomest trinkets and just giving them you for no reason
He goes to the beach a lot on his own whenever he misses you because the salty air smells just like the crook of your neck and often comes back with a bunch of seashells, randomly shaped rocks and one time an actually alive sand dollar
You spent so long teaching him how to spot one that’s alive and one that’s dead so when he saw a sand dollar he got really excited at the idea of you being proud of him remembering the difference that he’d forgotten it
His favourite things are the seashells though. Why? Well, because he can turn them into cute jewellery for you, duh!
It started off as a silly little idea. He found a cute seashell and thought ‘what if I strung a piece of thread through this and made it a necklace for my beautiful hot gorgeous pretty siren mermaid cutie pie Y/N?’
He ended up doing it and you loved it so much he decided he’d make you a whole collection of seashell jewellery
The second time around, he made an actual chain for the necklace because you’re deserving of more than some lousy thread!!!
Then he began making bracelets and rings and earrings and all sorts of other things for you. Somehow, despite making so many of them, Leo managed to make them all unique in their own way. Your favourite, however, was the seashell locket he made you for one of your anniversaries
Inside of the locket is a picture you took together on the beach. It was from back when you were just friends, but you looked so gorgeous in it Leo couldn’t help but choose it for the necklace
Also, you guys are LITERALLY fireboy and watergirl
You’d had an epiphany one day whilst lying your head on his chest and the gasp you let out had Leo worried you were dying for a second
When you told him this, Leo was confused. Being in the foster care system at a young age then sent to wilderness school then doing demigod things left very little room for him to discover modern things other people his age liked
You immediately took him to the little computer you shared with Percy and opened up fireboy and watergirl (the OG game of course, not one of the newer editions) and taught him how to play
Honestly, Leo’s really bad at it. Like at first you thought he just needed to get the hang of it but then you reached the one year anniversary of when you first showed him FB & WG and he was STILL awful at it (also yes you know what day that is. You and Leo have anniversaries for everything)
“Leo!” You exclaimed, unable to watch as the try again prompt popped up on the screen. After about 50 times doing this level (which you had completed on your own before just fine), you’d finally gotten to the last hurdle when, of course, fireboy had to fall into the green slime
Leo pouted, once again prepared to fight his case, “Fireboy’s an idiot! It’s not my fault you get to control the smarter one out of the two!”
“Nuh, uh! Fireboy’s so much easier to control! He has the arrows, watergirl has WASD, which is way harder!”
“Fine, you control him, since he’s so easy to use!”
“But I’m Watergirl! I can’t have you killing me too!”
You’d have this conversation almost every single time you played the game. It got so bad one time Percy had to block the fireboy and watergirl website from the computer
Which was stupid because Leo’s literally a son of Hephaestus so all he had to do was touch the computer and it quickly became unbanned!
Also I think all children of Poseidon have an obscene amount of fish/sea animal merch. Specifically plushies
Leo stayed the night at your cabin once thinking ‘oh my Gods I’m gonna be sleeping with Y/N for the first time WTF WTF WTF!!!’ only to end up sleeping with Chelsea the starfish instead
He teased you a little at first but you’d refused to talk to him after that so he accepted them into the L/N-Valdez family (despite them hogging the bed 😒)
Now, he also defends the plushies like his life depends on it. If someone even DARES to utter a word against Haley the seahorse its ON SIGHT fr
He also keeps a mental note of all the names of your plushies to see if he can figure out a theme with the kinds of names you like for when you name your future baby but that’s a story for another day!
#leo valdez x reader#leo valdez x you#leo valdez x y/n#leo valdez#leo valdez x fem reader#percy jackson#pjo#percy jackson x reader#pjo x reader#leo valdez fanfic#pjo fanfic#leo valdez drabble#leo valdez x poseidon reader#daughter of poseidon#children of poseidon#poseidon pjo#cynwrites
182 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gay wrongs tournament, quarterfinals of the major bracket
Propaganda:
For House and Wilson:
Literally the most insane couple of all time from medical malpractice the show. They’re best friends, they live together, they’ve drugged eachother, they make stupid bets together, they manipulate each other, they ride off into the sunset together. They’re Sherlock and Watson, they’re the best doctors in their fields and you’d never want them anywhere near your medical care.
Medical malpractice <3
For Will and Hannibal:
Ive previously only heard the term "murder husbands" refer to hannigram so it feels flitting. The whole series culminated with a murder they did together bathing in blood.
The show and ship that coined murder husbands. It’s in the text in s3 from a journalist side character. They do Many murders either together or as a message to each other. Usually this involves turning the dead body into an art piece. The show ends with them killing a guy together in a slo mo scene backed by porno music.
They're both batshit and manipulative.
ALRIGHT so they're not canonically together but it is HEAVILY implied and they have some sort of fucked up psychosexual obsession with each other. in the later parts of the show they start committing murder and cannibalism together and they're soooo unhinged but it's awesome
kill people for each other. maim each other. kill people together. most batshit insane metaphors. send each other to jail. ruin everyone’s lives. someone can probably say this better than me but these gay people are insane
Literally THE murder husbands. They kill for each other. They've tried to kill each other. They're canon in all but name, like the homoeroticism between these two is the driving force of the show.
one time hannibal folded a guy into an origami human heart
They are in love and they kill and eat people. They are called Murder Husbands in canon.
The original murder husbands (literally, that's not just their ship name, they get called that in canon)
The show begins with Will working for the FBI and trying to catch Hannibal, but because Hannibal is so intrigued by the way Will is able to see the world and the motives behind the killings so easily, it becomes a game of Hannibal isolating Will even more from the people around and seducing him to try and kill. By the time Will starts embracing the side of him that Hannibal sees, he starts oulling back and trying to distance himself so that when the time comes for Will to fully embrace himself and Hannibal, no one really suspects what they have planned.
hannibal literally does murder as courtship and it works bc will is also a fucked up little guy
I'm actually quite offended they aren't included by default (joke). They are THE murder husbands!!!!!! (mod note: they should have been, but I wanted to see how many submissions they'd get. They got 19, making them a little more than 6% of total submission count).
do i have to say it. they literally get called murder husbands IN THE SHOW
There are 3201 works for Hannibal on ao3 tagged Murder Husbands. They are the ogs, they are the pioneers we owe it all to them.
THEE murder couple. You know it. I know it. They commit crimes at each other as courting and then commit crimes together and then fall off a cliff to wash up somewhere and live on to serve cunt. Get referred to as 'murder husbands' in canon. What more do you need
Hannigram were literally called Murder Husbands in canon, they are the og, they are THE blueprint. They were gay as hell and comitted so much murder so many crimes. THEY RAN OFF TO EUROPE TOGETHER.
#gay wrongs tournament quarterfinals#hanningram#hilson#hannibal nbc#house md#hannibal lecter#will graham#gregory house#james wilson
394 notes
·
View notes
Note
You know, the civilian Bruce au is so funny to me, just because of the whole situation with Talia.
Like can you imagine:
Bruce: *acts like a himbo*
Talia: Well I can't just not fuck him now can I?
I think Damian was created by taking Bruce's DNA?
Ra's: Who's DNA did you take to make this baby?
Talia:...
Ra's: WHOSE DNA-
Just imagine Damian leaving to go live with his father and expecting him to be this powerful warrior or something and instead getting this rich himbo.
Damian: I'm the blood son, so I will be the one to inherit his legacy!
Tim...you wanna be a doctor that bad?
Damian: What
Like, his father doesn't know about his children's vigilantism, he doesn't even know that Talia was an assassin from the league, he doesn't even know what the league is. Mother why?
If he wants to be a vigilante as well he has to listen to his adoptive brothers, which really grates him. He also has to keep it from Bruce, which he really doesn't get.
Bruce just keeps accidentally guilt tripping Damian into a normal child.
Bruce: I'm just so glad our family is getting along. I just don't what I would do if you didn't like your brothers 🥹
Damian, who is definitely not getting along with his brothers:...yeah...
Do you think he'd inherit his mother's taste in men?
Jon: *does something stupid*
Damian, near tears: I think I get it now mother, I'm sorry I kink shamed you.
Okokok I getchu, but I also need to add here that Bruce’s parents were certainly not normal and He certainly isnt normal. His parents read motherfuckin The Veldt by Ray Bradbury to him as a BEDTIME STORY!!
The Story in Summary: the Hadley family, two kids and their mom and dad, live in this automated home that can do anything for them. It can cook, clean, wash the kids, put them to bed, anything household work like you can imagine, it can do.
Kids have a VR Room called The Nursery. The Nursery is stuck visually showing an African landscape (w/ lions eating dead carcasses in the background and people screaming). They call a Psychologist for answers of this landscape. Psychologist tells them to turn off the house. The Hadley’s agree. They doubt their parenting abilities but this guy helped reassure them that doing this will help their issues. The kids protest heavily but the parents’s resolve is firm. They tell their kids they can visit The Nursery one last time.
The parents talk about the kids a bit more before going into The Nursery to collect the kids. They are met with a pride of lions. The screams they heard in The Nursery before is reminiscent as the ones they are currently making as the Lions tear into them.
The psychologist goes to check on the kids. They are in the Nursery having tea. It’s still the African Savanna. Lions are feasting on two bodies far in the distance.
The psychologist realizes what has been done. A child offers him tea like nothing is wrong.
That’s the story. Its a very shitty summary but its the best I could do with my current brain functionality. But can you imagine why I think that’s a Not Normal Parenting Tactic for the average child?
I have the personal belief that Bruce’s parents were quite eccentric and a tad on the strange side. You dont grow up stewing in your own grief and then decide to become a vigilante crime fighter after a traumatic event with a regular upbringing.
All I’m saying is that if you’re going the Civilian!Bruce route, he’s absolutely protective of his kids, but his personality would still have some similarities to the OG Bruce Wayne. Still enjoys working out and maybe this time he actually gets those copious amounts of injuries doing eccentric Rich people sports and getting hurt from trying to pull off wild as hell stunts.
He isn’t a man who doesn’t do anything when he’s in the line of fire. He still has learned self defense and knows damn well how to fight and fight back, just not to the degree of a vigilante.
I’m unsure how to fully characterize a Bruce who his parent’s death never consumed his entire being and made him into Batman but this man certainly will pretend to be a himbo in front of the press. He might not have that playboy guise anymore because normally its a way to hide his Batman identity. He certainly doesn’t have the Batcave but you bet your ass that this man HAS tried to go spelunking in the caves below his house.
Idk that’s all I got for this but its just me adding on with my thoughts. Bruce unknowingly keeping the boys grounded in normal life actives in a way that means more for the boys than Bruce would ever understand or realize is some good shit.
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
cast: trainee!niki ✗ seatmate!fem.reader (ft. &team's taki (takayama riki), p1harmony's soul (haku shota), niziu's nina (makino nina), and xg's cocona (akiyama kokona))
synopsis: graduation is such a melancholic concept, happy to finally be able to escape school, but sad that people will separate to their own road. it is no different for riki. on his graduation day, he spends one last day with his seatmate of three years before he pursues his career across the sea
genre: melancholia, hurt/comfort, coming of age, slice of life, trainee au, high school au, fluff, angst
based on: music hindia's "besok mungkin kita sampai" (2019) (genre: indie pop)
word count: 13011 (13k)
warning(s): blood, some curse words, mention of bruises, pretty heavy life stuff even for a high school age
message to the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life. (y/f/n) = your full name!
i had to open up my japan 2020 trip memories to remember the whole atmosphere + adding a bit of my knowledge and experiences too. i have to post this in april since it is the right momentum for it and riki’s graduating class is THIS YEAR! i wanna thank @oiwxa for her insight into a japanese high school graduation and its rituals (especially since you rb the og riki as a regular hs student hc like that is very useful) and my friends who indulge in japanese culture for helping with additional insights :D this is also part of my milestone now closed collab "discover: 200" which you can check out! hope you enjoy!
masterlist
what does one think about when they hear the word “foam”?
a child will imagine a white porcelain bathtub, the one they are sitting in with most of their seated body underneath the water that fills from the bottom of the tub. bubbles made from the mix of the running water and the poured liquid soap to create a magical concoction of science. more and more fill the tub until it overflows and splashes outside, landing on the tiled floor. one can pick up childish giggles as the bubbles caress the skin before it pops, creating a ring of soap on the skin nearest to it. one could imagine their parent beside them following their giggles, helping wash them up after playing in a grassy park and falling on the dirt patch chasing a squirrel. but the child was having too much fun trying to make their hair stand up from their scalp to care about the suds that clean away the dust and soil.
a person who visits a beach will be reminded of the white foam that flows to the coast, pushed by the tides to escape the blue waters. froths created from the combination of nature’s rhythm on the breaking of seawater and dissolving salt or tiny planktons. one can walk to the edge where the land meets the sea and meet the foams by themselves, letting their leg submerged into the wet sand before the incoming wave tries to push you away with its natural force. the water tickles above the ankle as foam created from the physics of it before receding into the ocean along with more grains of sand. the image of it pairs with the familiar crunchy sound of the waves that instantly show up in the head and from the popping of the tiny bubbles.
for riki, it was both of them and one more.
his hand is full of white fluffy foam. the boy's eyes stare at it before turning to the mirror in front of him. he sees the visual of a makeshift white full beard made from the tiny bubbles on the surface of his skin, all of them spread out to the jaw, cheeks, and even around the top of his neck, making him look like a younger version of father christmas if he ever goes to meet the children in spring—a season too late for the tradition and years too old for him as he knew about the truth of his parents being the “mythical man” that gave him gifts by the bed. the boy opens the tap.
the water runs down and cleans his hands, letting the residue drain down the hole before he picks up the item that he’s been learning and still is learning to adapt to at his age. the shaving razor he had that is in the same color as his toothbrush.
the razor glints under the lights beside the mirror. his hand grips its handle, following the steps his father had taught him. the older man told his child that facial hair grows in different ways depending on where they’re located, and how he has to shave it the other way for the most efficient result.
“if it’s on the cheek, then you have to shave it diagonally downwards to the corner of the lips. if it’s above the upper lip, then you have to shave it outwards from beneath both nostrils.”
riki recollects the words accurately as he imagines the visual vividly. how he can see himself in the mirror as his father when the boy remembers he stood beside him, a razor in his own hands as he teaches his son how to shave the facial hair he might not want to own—right in front of the same mirror he stood across now.
shaving your own facial hair seems to be a rite of passage for a boy who is nearing the end of his puberty days. their growing plates are still growing as riki still remembers how he was slightly shorter than his father when he was taught his first lesson in shaving facial hair. now he is taller than his father, either from how many times he has to jump along with the moves of a choreography or run along with a rolling ball on a grassy field.
riki can definitely feel and see the difference. his lanky body now shows more prominent muscles from the physical activities he does, notably his bigger calves from moving on his feet so much. the baby fat on his face has burned enough that his bone structure sticks out as he notices the apples of his cheekbone protruding on his facial features. his voice also deepens as he can still remember how itchy it is, dropping step by step until he can perceive the vibration of his neck’s skin from the moving larynx; a voice that screams baritone or bass, even reaching vocal fry level if he wants to learn the technique.
all of that happens in the three years of high school. if middle school him could witness him now, he wouldn’t believe that that is what he’s going to look like. so many things happened in the past three years that month by month—even day by day—he can feel himself changing physically and mentally.
and today, his three-year journey in high school ends. his graduation day from being a high school student. also, his last day home before pursuing his dream in seoul, south korea.
riki has always been an active kid, but there are two constants throughout his activities in his 18 years on earth: soccer and dancing. one may look at both of them differently, but he has always found a resemblance between the two. the agility of dancing helps control the ball if it’s in his possession. the stamina training he had done to run from one side of the field to another helped him practice longer, thus making him learn the choreographies faster than the other kids.
his hopes and dreams are tied between the two of them. he even wants to continue it to his adult. many of the kids were always asked “what you’ll be when you grow up?” and their answers will be different years later. yet, riki’s stayed the same. always between the two of them.
but he has to choose one to pursue even further, to focus on even in the hardest times he might get in his life.
after seeing korean idols on stage performing in front of thousands of people, he chose to dance. he wants to be like them one day.
yet, that doesn’t mean he’ll let go of soccer that easily.
soccer is still there for riki as a hobby. but he decides to push his dream of being a soccer player behind to train more for his dancing: learning between the street dances and contemporary ones he is still lacking in, yet determined to improve on. it sacrificed him hours of rest time to nail each of the basics in each study, peaking his figure to one of an all-rounder dancer who learned multiple branches of the certain performing arts.
his fruit of labor comes at the right time and moment when he joins an open audition for a big label in south korea that is hosted near here. riki rubs his hand on his pants as he sees a tv playing in the waiting room of a live performance he watched with his own eyes. his figure between all the visible moving lightsticks that decorated the arena, resembling a starry night. they all gave their best to show their craft on stage where people had encouraged them so much to achieve their dreams until that level. it tugs little riki so hard on his heartstrings that he can’t think of his other activities that can bring him the same sense of joy and pride at the same time. soccer seems to be the nearest one but what if he falls out of love and wants to retire early? being a performer means he could also explore other avenues of performing arts if he wants to experiment. though there is a school for it, art is the outlet for human creativity. and each person has their own way of interpreting what they want.
the audition process was nerve-wracking for him; fear flew and crowded the room as riki saw the people he had to compete with. getting tunnel vision from his anxious self, all he could think about when seeing them was how better they were compared to himself. even the lone camera on a tripod makes him nervous as he knows the implications of the recordings being sent to the highest of the higher-ups who have the choice to make his life change forever. as the person before him steps aside, he takes their place and introduces himself like what he practiced. the words flowing out of his mouth smoothly before he let his mind back to when he was alone in the dance studio he called his second home: his actual home is the first and the school’s soccer field is his third.
the fluidity of his body lets him perform the routine he practiced countless times, a routine he trained with his dancing coach that highlights his greatest strengths in performing arts. riki feels how his eyes droop down, letting his movements and muscle memories do the work for him, something he allows as he has been practicing with the lights out.
“when you lose one of your senses, another sense grows to complement it,” his coach reminded him.
riki didn’t even break a sweat when he listened to the unfamiliar song. he just freestyle danced to the rhythm as best as he could to the song he used as a lesson. one has a faster bpm than the other, so he has to adapt with how many milliseconds he has to let his arm stay in the air. in his consciousness, he is confused as to why none of the judges stopped him like the other contestants. many of them were better but stopped earlier that they didn’t even reach the end of the choruses for songs, making his eyes tremble more behind his eyelids. yet, he continued until something stopped him. well, the music does as it fades away.
the process was rigorous when he had to sing and do body shots in another room—alone from the other contestants with people he assumes are higher in the recruitment process. when the papers of the contracts were placed in front of riki, he was halfway through his high school career. a contract to be a trainee in south korea, the place where the performers he saw reside. the headquarters of the leading asian pop culture in the world. riki has to be there to feel it himself.
he had his mom beside him as she read through the contract, a small smile on her face as she tried to understand the best of the contract with the formal and legal lingo that is used alongside the translator they hire for this and her family member who is a lawyer. he had already met up with the trainers before—the judges he auditioned to and more through video calls—and they agreed that riki has the potential to be something more.
he signed the paper that seals the next chapter of his life, agreeing to move to korea when high school ends.
riki returns to the mirror when his hand is unconsciously shaving the foamy area; following a set routine of the parts he has to shave and what section is next. that’s when he sees the thin foam turn pink. eyebrows raised, the sting comes too late as the soapy substance meets his open wound. he instantly flipped the tap open and cupped the water in his palms, brushing the soap substance away as fast as he could, gritting his teeth when he felt the cold liquid caressing his skin. blood flows along with the water as he smoothes the skin down, not recognizing any more slippery base substance when he gently dries his wet area. turning his face, he sees the long thin slit on his clean cheek, right under his cheekbone and going horizontal above the jawline, almost like a secondary of it. the razor he holds is placed under the running water when he sees the translucent crimson color flow down the drain hole.
placing the razor away, he opens the cabinet door for the first aid kit he had always picked up. being such an active kid doesn’t mean that he is immune to injuries. open or close wounded, he has scars of his injuries all around his body. the nasty scar on his right kneecap from when he tripped on himself while playing soccer on an asphalt road, bruises on his forearm from when he slammed himself too hard on the dance studio’s floor, and many more. he once feared that red color flowing on his skin layer, but seeing it so much and its purple-ish-blue companion, he throws that fear away and lets it sink into the ocean that is just a walking distance from his abode.
the first aid kit is filled with the most essential items riki uses to heal himself. his mom always told him to treat his injuries as soon as possible so no nasty virus or bacteria could infiltrate the atoms that encompass his functioning body and destroy it from the inside. and make him worse instead. he always thought the scars he got litter on his skin would disappear one day. time goes on as it denies his assumption. he learned this from biology class where the teacher mentions that the cell tissues of skin cannot get rid of scars because the injuries are being repaired by the same cells that create a scar. the cells in those areas are ever-healing; never going to stop healing because it has been injured before.
another scar to tell, i guess. he sighs as he dabs the wound with the red-brownish antiseptic on cotton all along the opening before he grabs the bandage and sticks it on the wound. pressing it down gently, the bandage nearly blends in with his skin color as it creates an abnormal diagonal patch on his somewhat clean yet acne-scar-filled skin. a minor bump rising because of the white pad on the sticky side. brushing his black hair away from its place that fallen on his forehead, he closes the distinct naruto-themed bag of his first aid kit and brings it to his room.
the navy graphic t-shirt he wore has droplets from the water but not of the blood from the small rectangle mirror sticking on his wall. on his bed lays the final piece of his gakuran as he picks up the suit jacket. riki pushes the golden buttons through the holes in an order, leaving the last button open right at the top so that he looks cooler—and so that he doesn’t get easily choked. his eyes scan his nearly clean room where items are still cluttered here and there. that is until he sees the large suitcase at the leg part of his bed. all the clothes and essentials he has packed to be used in korea are already in there. his flight is tomorrow morning; flying from haneda airport. the open duffel bag of his is still on his bed as he puts the naruto-themed first aid kit inside.
“riki!”
“yes?” his hand on his chest from the surprise calling of his name passing by the barrier of the wall.
“we have to go. we don’t want to be late.” his mom’s voice calls from outside the room. the boy lets the bag rest on the mattress before he picks up his trusty backpack and saunters to the door of his room and opens it, seeing his mom cleaning the dishes and dad slurping on a cup of ramen on the small dining table after leaning almost half of his body. both of them are in an outfit he isn’t used to seeing. only in times of graduations, weddings, or funerals.
“i made one for you.” riki followed his mom’s eyesight to the steaming cup of ramen across from his dad. “your sister has left for school earlier, but you don’t want to be late for your assembly.”
the boy’s long legs reach the seat where the cup of ramen is. its familiar smell enters riki’s senses as he picks up the folding plastic fork and scrumptiously enjoys the hot noodles. he felt the tangled noodle warming up his esophagus while his dad was pouring a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. as riki looked at his dad, he could see himself in him. his dad’s feline-like eyes—combined with his mom’s—make riki’s signature aggressive-looking eyes, like a leopard ready to pounce on its prey. his sisters are also like him but softer as how biology designs feminine features. but, all of them didn’t expect riki’s growth to spurt as he entered high school. he definitely thanked his genetics but also the nutritious homemade food mom made for him full of the omega-3 of fish and the glutinous yet small grains of cooked white rice.
the sunlight enters through the window of the dining and kitchen area where he sees a small garden that is full of little plants and flowers. the beam highlights the light brown of the wood from the last time his family renovated the house fully. small, quaint, yet architecturally smart; with hidden compartments for storage and changing furniture. he can describe his newly renovated home as one of the best things japanese architecture offers. his father learns so much about architectural innovation from watching renovation shows while his mom has the say in interior designing—picking the type of wood to use, placement of the furniture, and others. his new room became his favorite place in the world, with the floor-to-ceiling cabinet and wardrobe combo to put his childhood things he couldn’t bear to let go. though small, he’ll miss his room and the window that overlooks the small one-lane road filled with houses of neighbors he knows.
his nimble fingers expertly pick up the narutomaki along with the noodles from his seafood cup noodles with his chopsticks. the orange-reddish broth colors the inside of the cup as he stares at his phone, scrolling down the news of his favorite player transferring teams—a player exchange that costs millions of US dollars, a japanese player. the player was pretty new for his time, but riki can relate to him so much as the player enters such a big league at such a young age. in a way, riki lives his soccer player dreams vicariously through him. now, as he sees the familiar name transferring from playing in the Premier League to La Liga, his lips pursed as he can imagine the player playing in matches with the likes of many of the skilled players he idolizes in his life.
cupping the cup, he drinks the remaining broth as it warms his stomach, accidentally burping as his dad lets out a giggle in front of him. both of them wait for mom as she finishes up and walks to the shoe cabinet. riki picks up his beaten shoes—his favorite shoes since he bought them in his first year of high school. he remembers how his father agreed to pay him for the pair of shoes before realizing that it’s too big for his feet. yet now, his feet are grown to match their sizes, making them fit him perfectly. he uses those shoes all the time, especially for dancing and soccer. he wore the exact same pair of shoes when he auditioned. but now, he looked at its battered shape with seams ripping from the sole. nevertheless, he wore it to celebrate his and his shoes’ journey every day from when he went to school and the dance studio. riki rather see these shoes break because of his activities than never use them all because of their fragile state.
something he also has to let go like the life he has here to continue to live.
-
climbing up the last stair to the train platform, riki could see the coastline of the beach that is a five-minute walk from where he is. there’s a chugging sound of the moving train from the rails behind him going in the opposite direction of where he will go. behind the curtains of the three and more story high-rises, he can see the light yellow patch of the beach before gliding his eyes to a long grey platform of the small harbour. even with the distance, he can hear the sound of the crashing wave meeting the land. his eyes slowly relax as he stares at the neighborhood and city he calls home and the ocean in its background. the ultramarine spectrum healing his vision along with the lightly cloudy sky as specks of black dots are far at the edge of the horizon. the fishermen fishing for the catches to then be served in the most fresh condition possible in a large franchise sushi restaurant of a small mom-and-pop sashimi booth. the small taste of saltiness in the air because of how close he is to the source.
even with the small islands in his view, he still couldn’t believe that the body of water he was seeing was leading to the largest ocean on this blue rock. how the nearest landmass from japan is the united states with hawaii placed near the middle of the pacific. it always blew his mind whenever he realized how big the world is when he always saw the scaled-down version of it in a map app. he didn’t realize how big japan is when he realize that sapporo is near russia and the western and southern parts of okinawa is nearing taiwan or the phillipines. maybe, the vastness of the unknown world beside his city, the cities he visited, and the little buildings where people he knows do their activities is the one making him rub his palm on his pants so much.
the walk to the train station was short as he viewed people living their lives behind his parents’ footsteps on the clean sidewalk. entrances to office buildings opening one by one, the large signages of buildings that house pachinko machines stay idle as the mini convenience store below it shuts much of its fluorescent light after leaving it on for the night, and sparse numbers of motor vehicles running down the two-lane streets as bicycles are being dominated by workers. riki also found kids his age roaming the sidewalk to their nearest school. some of them wearing their uniforms just fine, while others were still shivering from the leftover winter wind—wearing puffy jackets to conceal them. he could recognize students from the neighboring schools just from the uniforms they were, some wore gakurans but others also used a more modern prep school uniform he has seen looking like the korean ones he found on the internet.
the sound of the distinct train station melody flies through the air as he watches the chugging commuter train on its way to the platform. his head stands out of the crowd as his height helps with easier detection when he identifies the small sliver of color that corresponds with the train line it is. from the outside, he catches a faded reflection of himself with a few people inside; people wearing masks to cover themselves from the flu because of pollen and the cold while others let their faces open as they can smell and inhale the clean spring air. the white LED lights illuminate the train car as he steps in—ducking his head cause he feels like he could slam into something hanging on the ceiling anytime. he turns to stare at himself from the glass’ reflection, how the corner of his mouth turn a bit downwards, which created a slightly intimidating frown. riki knows about what his friends call his resting bitch face, so he mostly gives a small thin smile after wetting his lips, which he did when he notices it on the reflection. his fingertips rubbing against each other to warm himself up before touching the backpack that is hanging by the straps to keep it safe in his arms.
the train is chugging down on the rail as the view outside moves with relativity. riki sees the familiar passing billboards he has seen time to time, changing its every advertisement from new ramen flavors to new animation movies to new j-pop album releases. yet the distinct enormous billboard hangs near a pedestrian crossing of a larger station that he always goes by. people walking about to their destination as the melody sounds every time the train stops at the station, spoken in both english and his native japanese. riki’s being is alert as the sound calls the name of the station near his school, eyes looking at the screen on top of the door as the train stops at another elevated station. the boy could sense how the train wobbled beneath him as he and the others stepped out of the cart. tapping his card at the gate, riki strides along the familiar pavements towards school.
approaching the building complex that has housed him for three years, riki sees the recognizable sailor uniform the girls wears—the same uniform hung outside of his room for his little sister to bring into her room—as he steps forward with every step. calls of names are spoken between one another as he walks closer, some are calling his name which he gives different greetings while others are gathered with each of their friends. in a cautious state of mind, his eyes scoured around to see the groups of parents crowding around their children; some stood up like skyscrapers compared to them. he sensed the bandage on his skin a bit heavier than before when he turned to face his dad, who was staring at him. mom is out of his sight as he watches his father’s hand caressing his injured cheek.
“from shaving…” riki replies after letting out a light hiss, widening his eyes so he wouldn’t turn away. his dad lets out a small giggle as he pats his cheek, making riki actually retreat and copying him with his own giggles. the smell of the distinct flowers and leaves crowds around him as the sakura petals fall down on the paved road of the school that is surrounded by cherry blossom trees. but different flower species are also showing up in the number of bouquets the graduating class has on their hands. the sakura pinks being the background contrast with the whites and yellows in the bouquets. that is when he found a single person who has purple flowers in their bouquet. lifting his head to see the owner’s, the corners of his lips rise just from identifying the familiar face.
you are clutching the ends of the bouquet your parents have surprised you with. your own backpack hangs on your shoulders as you hug your father, seeing a little red panda wearing a graduation cap on the top as your mother asks one of the parents to help capture the picture. posing in between your parents, you let out a wide smile as you hear the familiar clicking sound a few times before you drop from your tippy toes—something you always unconsciously do when taking a picture. you admire the way the white and purple flowers makes the bouquet looks grand yet still screams you—purple has always been and will be your primary color.
seeing the bouquet and the many students makes you wonder if your friends are here or not. you raise your head and chin up, curiously looking at the stream of students and parents gathering at the front of the gate and school buildings before the graduation ceremony begins. that’s when you see the familiar tall boy who was always sleeping on the table beside yours whenever both of you were in class.
“riki-chan.”
he can follow your mouth’s movement, grinning when he picks up even a small sample of your voice on the other side of where he is. your voice calls to him like a siren as he takes one step forward. that is when he felt a hand slapping his back as riki could already guess who it might be.
“shota! i almost choke.”
riki hears shota’s infamous giggle as he turns around, finding him with his eye smile as he wraps his arm behind the boy’s back, “come on, niki. don’t be so serious. we’re graduating today.”
“i know,” he replied. he wanted to return to your presence once again when he let his eyes squint and something flinch to grow on his lips. riki watches his father approaching him with his mother as he takes a peek at the yellow-flower-full bouquet she is holding, knowing that it will be for him as he sees his parents trying to conceal it—even though they failed by how flustered they are to see their son already has his eyes on them.
“ta-da!” his parents proclaimed as he saw the bouquet in close detail, seeing a few white petals scattering the bouquet as the yellow slowly became softer in his eyes. creating a more pastel yellow than the ones that shock his eyes with how bright the yellow is.
“thank you, mom and dad,” he replies as he carefully picks up the bouquet and cradles it in his arms. his father greets shota as he asks the boy questions on where his parents are while his mother finally notices the bandage on his cheek, hearing her clicking her tongue as she tries not to laugh at how clumsy her son was.
shota helped in taking photos for the family, even though his sister is there but it was so hard to reach her when she was already with her friends. he glances at the clock on top of his screen after seeing his chat with his younger sister when he realizes it’s almost time for the graduation ceremony. riki reminds his parents of where the parents will gather as he slowly places the bouquet under the care of his mother. waving and saying a “see you later”, he and shota go to the crowd where the graduating students are—dividing into each class crowd as he is letting the memories of the graduation ceremony replay in his mind from the rehearsals..
shota greeted most of the class students as riki stayed behind, letting the guy feel the fame once more as he couldn’t help but grin at seeing another boy in their usual circle of six—walking towards them with his own grin on his face.
“taki-chan.” riki calls for taki as he did their bro hug. his hand playfully ruffled his dyed locks as he commented, “you’ve already bleached your hair?”
“yes, let’s just say that it’s my graduation gift from my parents. i have to look stylish when i moved to germany for university. how about you, niki? why do you even have a bandage on your face?” taki playfully poked riki’s face as he turned his head, wanting to bite the finger like it was a clawing game for making him sense the reminder of the pain of the cut skin.
his circle of six has two rikis in them. so, to differentiate them, they use their first syllable from the last name as their new nickname during their high school: creating the unstoppable taki-niki duo. taki is also part of riki’s dance studio, but he’s doing it more as a hobby than a career like what riki is doing. shota, on the other hand, frequents the arcade during their high school times. in the nearest arcade from school, he has a high score in playing the arcade’s taiko no tatsujin; even having a pair of specialty gloves he said could help with the grip of the drumsticks. his love for rhythm gaming also shows in school when shota showed riki his device when he plays osu!—the game that successfully gets taki actually after he is numb to it by dancing to hip-hop and b-boying.
“there you guys are!”
the three boys all glanced to the side to find the three girls had completed their circle of six. kokona stands in the middle as he catches her pouting face with her hands on her waist; one part of her hair is already highlighted and even riki can notice she is wearing a slight faint of eyeliner on her eyes. beside her, he sees you with your wide eyes-small smile combo, and nina who is playing something on her phone.
kokona is the musician of the group—"a born-to-be musician" as she likes to call it—as riki has always found her making lyrics upon lyrics, from the most poem-like to outward disses as he knows she can beat him in a rap battle if he wants to. nina is the brains of the group. having mixed parents like shota makes her able to speak in four different languages, but she is also academically smart as she is always representing the school for a social science olympiad and she spearheaded the economics club in school. and, you. you are the artist of the group. every time riki meets you in class, you always have a manga on one side and your sketchbook on the other as you try to read and draw at the same time, making the characters in the manga you are reading on the sketchbook in your own art style.
riki is lucky to have his circle to be as creatively well-versed and supporting each other’s endeavors. they were the first ones to know that riki is now a trainee for a label in south korea. and they couldn’t have been more proud as shota even gifted him his old korean language 101 books for him to start his language learning early; even adding a few korean terms the boy learned from his mother as riki tried to familiarize himself with them.
his homeroom teacher, mister terada, reminds them to stand in line according to their last names instead of seatmates, making all six of you scattered as riki stands with a boy in front of him and a girl behind him. he could hear the coordinator’s voice slowly letting the classes in one by one into the hall where he has seen his parents are in—seating at the bleachers at the top that are lining around the open middle area. riki could sense his legs being numbed as he didn’t know how long he had to stand up when he felt your touch on his wrist as your line was beside his, holding him up as you let out a pout. when it’s his time to enter the hall, he basks in the large space to see the parents sitting in the bleachers surrounding the students. said students all sit at their assigned seats from the rehearsals as riki recalls his path when he'll be walking to the stage to get his diploma.
the assembly finally started and both the boy and girl beside him started to chuckle when he had to cover his mouth to let out a huge yawn. the tiredness of packing his stuff for his later flight last night got into him as he just wanted to be his class’ turn so he could get his diploma and maybe take a few minutes of a power nap. he could hear nina asking for him a few seats away, watching her discreetly pushing her hand out. he reached his own as he felt something on his curled palm. opening it up, he found a small wrapped mint candy that he recognized as a staple of nina's as their “awake pill”. the spicy mint taste makes his nerves alive and aware as he sees the first few classes already getting their diplomas. he had to remind himself of all the rehearsals he had done after the exam for the past two weeks—the correct place to stand while waiting in the line, the etiquette and who to shake hands with, and where you pose for your graduation photo.
riki graciously stands up and stretches his tired body from sitting too long as he walks to the path he had track with his eyes and is currently in the line awaiting his turn. he spots kokona already sitting down with her diploma and also shota who is walking to sit down on his seat. step by step as more and more names are being called, he is now one step away from the short flight of stairs to getting his diploma.
“nishimura riki.”
his name is called as he puts out a smile he has been learning while walking across the stage, bowing deep and shaking the hand of the principal before meeting mister terada who he gives another bow to before he receives the diploma with both of his hands. he turns towards the end of the stage and poses for the camera at the end before sitting down, looking up at the bleachers as he can catch his parents’ voices, cheering for him.
yet, for him. finally, it was time to get a nap as he awaited the last homeroom of his high school career.
-
thud.
thud.
thud.
that’s what riki picked up before he leaned down to grab his usual drink from the vending machine’s slot at the bottom. his backpack has been placed once again on his back after he met up with his parents when the assembly was done. he really had a pretty good nap before the boy beside him shook him to wake up when the ceremony comes to an end with the last hurrah from his juniors—seeing his younger sister too as riki chuckles when they both catch each other’s eyes. too many people were crowding the floor when the mc said it was over over, but he knew he will reunite with his friends once again after fulfilling the parchedness of his esophagus.
straightening his back, he felt the weight of the bouquet fall down and rested on the bottom of his bag alongside his diploma as he awaited for the final things to do here: cleaning up his shoe locker and one last meeting with the homeroom teacher about his career sheet. his parents had long gone home and he had already done the nearly complete family photo with his younger sister. riki glanced at the view behind him as he saw a few kids playing soccer in their 30-minute recess time—he could see himself in them as he either helped in attacking towards the goal or defending it against his friends. 30 minutes that seemed like a lifetime when he was there to feel it himself now appears so short as he sees it from an outsider’s perspective.
“boo!”
riki turns around in a whiplash, almost spilling his drink from the bottle before he pauses and calms himself to stare at you. your purple backpack sways alongside your own movement as you laughed—even making you nearly folded yourself to get a grip on your knees because he was too funny. your laughter dies down as flip your backpack around to put your diploma inside the main pocket.
“thought you’d be here,” you mumbled, pulling out your wallet from the bag as you approached the vending machine. the backpack hangs only on one shoulder as you plunge the coins in and press the button of the drink you want.
“you always get a drink when you’re sleepy.” you then added, making riki chuckle.
it’s a habit of his he had always overlooked but, somehow, you remember. once in class, he had been taking a huge nap during japanese history class as he let the thick textbook cover him. he had a very late practice session for a choreography because he hadn’t nailed each move—maybe because it was near the exam time or whatnot. yet, no one seems to wake him until the end of the period. lifting his head up groggily, he looks at his classmates who are eating or talking with each other. that shock coming from him made the thick book fall as he heard a snicker coming from one of the crowd. riki sheepishly smiled as he wanted to crouch down to grab the book when he finally noticed the light-colored soda on the edge between his and your desk. the brand is his favorite, yet he thought it might be yours. but with the way the bottle sits behind the line between yours and his desk, he knew that it must be for him as he unconsciously swallowed his saliva; picking up and cracking the bottle lid open as he sipped the soda before going to his usual hangout place with the rest of the six.
he picks up the familiar set of thuds as you lean down and grab your purchase—the same brand yet different flavors. he watches you as you playfully shake the bottle, seeing the foam forming from the chemical reaction as he remembers what you say: “i like the soda fizzy.” but it is also like you that you are not careful when you open the bottle, seeing the pastel-colored foam flowing out of the cracks and landed on the pavement before you instantly gulp nearly a third of the bottle.
you let out a huge aahhhhh as you felt the coldness of the soda trailing down into your stomach, looking behind the color-glazed bottle to catch riki with a small smile on his face, but no movement in his eyes, gazing at you—making blood flow towards your cheek.
“hello? riki-chan?” you waved your sticky soda-stained hands in front of riki’s face before he seemed to snap out of it. that’s when you finally notice the little bandage on his cheek, spread wide right underneath his eye and cheekbone.
“what happened?” you softly poke your finger against the bandage, making riki back off as he looks away, eyes moving so rapidly before he lets out a small smirk.
“pressed my shaving razor too hard. it bleeds, so… yeah. gotta have to be reminded of that whenever i see my graduation picture now,” he told you in such a nonchalant manner, making you let out your own chuckle.
“you look like those bad boys i’ve seen on high school animations… you just need your lollipop and done!” you tuck the closed soda bottle beneath your armpit right after you say that.
“aren’t i a bad boy, though?” he raised his eyebrows, mimicking those bad boys you described by poking the tip of his tongue towards the inside wall of his cheek—as if there is a lollipop there.
you scoffed, “you? nishimura riki? a bad boy? bah…”
laughter falls out of you because you can’t seem to see him in the bad boy role. sure, he being a former soccer player and a dancer makes him popular with other people. you remembered near valentine’s day this year that many girls—including your juniors—asked you about his favorite candy or chocolate brand and flavors so that they could give that to him. some even leave gifts to you so you can give them to them and you are obliged to give them because you don’t want to experience the wrath of a teenage girl; you know that feeling too much yourself. yet, riki seemed to be more nonchalant about that, dividing the chocolates into the rest of his circle and not really giving anything back on white day—except for giving you, nina, and koko-chan different popin’ cookin’ sets you recognize costs money.
maybe he is a bad boy after all because of that. but, to you, that is his charm. riki doesn’t seem to be someone who is trying to please what society asks of him. he should’ve felt proud to get so many gifts for valentine’s day, but he doesn’t, and he is not afraid to show it. he has this sense of agency in him to know of what he is seeking even at such a young age, and to him, it is dancing.
“we don’t want to be late.” you get a last glance at him when he nods his head, brushing his bangs away from his forehead as he leads the way toward the locker area.
riki views some students replacing their outside shoes with their indoor slippers as he had done the same, tucking in his battered-up shoes inside his locker as he had to remind himself to bring the slippers home instead of putting them in the locker. or maybe it can be a gift for the first-year junior who is going to be assigned his previous locker for their shoes. that’s for him to think more about because he still sense he has time to think about it—the day felt both fast and slow at the same time.
the hallways are as clean as ever as he and you climb up the flights of stairs toward your homeroom class. his eyes gaze at the ever-changing properties hanging on the wall, yet he can definitely remember what it looked like when he was first here.
the newly painted wall now has chips of paint fallen off to show the dried concrete. the bulletin board where each club is advertising their project changes with every new administration. some plants he had first seen as sprouts now grow into a beautiful shrub. with a few of the existing shrubs died because of various reasons. yet, the look of the hallway still is the same as he could pinpoint places he had touched before: he had leaned his body against those set of windows, he had taken a peek inside one of the classrooms as he awaited taki to come out of the class, and he had also sat down on the floor there with his circle to their bento boxes because their usual hangout place is being renovated.
riki reached the handle and slides the classroom door as he is greeted by some students already sitting there, hearing the same roar as you step inside behind him. his eyes landed on the seats where you and he had sat for the past year, empty and inviting to both of you as you gazed at your classmates with their own bouquets (if they have one) and definitely their own diplomas as you watched them still admiring it. your eyes gazed to see the rest of your circle already in the classroom as you placed your backpack to hang on the seat and immediately walks towards nina, asking if she has any wet tissue.
“what took you so long?” riki heard shota’s scolding from the seat in front of him as he placed his own backpack beside his desk.
“didn’t expect for all of you to be here already. so (y/n) and i took our time,” he answered so honestly, hearing taki’s snicker beside shota as he was eating a snack. riki sits on his chair as his hand reaches for the cupboard underneath the desk in front of him, tapping his palm against the surface to recognize if he has any leftover items he hasn’t brought home. that’s when he felt sheets of paper that were united by a paper clip. he pulled it out, seeing the dusty paper of what looked to be a musical notary for his music class exam.
he remembered it was a final group project for the music class, and he had to do it with all six of the circle. riki remembered all the music lessons he had learned from his brief training with the trainers as he helped the group create their own song. shota in the drums, taki on the bass, nina on the guitar, and you on the piano whilst kokona and riki sing along with koko who uses her lyricist prowess to make a song that is seemingly about friendship and farewells. if riki hasn’t been accepted by his south korea agency, he would definitely pitch the idea to all of you to create a band. maybe all of you can be the latest sensation japan will meet on those shibuya crossing’s digital billboards.
yet fate says otherwise.
riki’s nose itches as he dusted the paper as the specks of dust floated towards the ground, looking at the clear version of the notation and even his own scribbles as he remembered how kokona berated him for not being able to match her melody—"i’m a dancer, koko-chan. not a singer." “but you’re an idol trainee. surely, you can sing.”—before carefully tucking it into his bag as he pulled the bouquet out of the bottom and let the bag open because he just knew that his whole backpack would smell like it if he kept it close.
looking towards the surface of the desk, riki sees a shadow standing menacingly in front of his desk. the shadow slides the glico’s pocky box in his vision. his head shifts upwards as he sees nina holding two more boxes of different flavors, making him look to his side to detect both you and kokona already having your own pocky with your own differing flavors.
“my gift to you all because i know i won’t be able to see you much in america.” nina says after putting the rest of the boxes in front of taki and shota. he could hear the two boys coo and send her gratitude before grabbing the boxes and opening them to ravage them for themselves. riki finally took a closer glimpse of yours as he finally noticed how both of your boxes are green-colored.
“did she give us the same flavor?” he mumbled to himself, yet he mumbled outwardly, making you shift your head and face him.
“i think our flavors are similar, let me see.”
you gently grip the wrist he is holding the box with and bring it beside yours. riki examines how his box has a dark chocolate gradient on it while yours is fully green, trailing his eyes down to read the flavor name on the front of the box.
“see, yours says green tea while mine is rich matcha.” you say what you observed as he can’t help holding back a giggle as you seem to unconsciously play around with your lip after you say the word “matcha.”
though purple is your favorite color—matcha is your favorite flavor. you have always been seen with matcha-flavored everything if you are given a chance. matcha lattes whenever all six of you visit a cafe, matcha mochi whenever you buy mochis, or matcha roll cakes when the gang is trying to buy something inside family mart. it’s no surprise nina gives you that, but why did she give him a similar, lighter version of it?
whatever, let’s just eat-
the sliding door opens and behind it, the figure of the class’ homeroom teacher appears. everyone, including riki, is applauding him—slightly drops the box on the table as he didn’t get to rip it properly. mister terada slowly steps inside, a surprised face on his face as he slowly walks to stand by the table in the middle of the class. he is carrying a large box with both of his hands as the holler continues, which is followed by whistles before he places it down on the table. mister terada raises his hands and slowly pushes it down as the volume follows.
“settle down kids. this is our last homeroom meeting.” mister terada says as riki gazes at the open box, knowing that it’s probably the yearbook that he had shot the photos for in january. he remembered that day cause it was still cold as heck. many of his classmates brought their own properties for the shoot, yet riki only wears his gakuran with a loose button and his trusty shoes—the black and white soccer ball is being lent by the committee because he has and wants to represent soccer on some sort so that he won’t forget.
“today, i’ll be giving you your yearbooks and also recapitulate your career sheet to see how each has progressed. i’m sure by now you have picked to focus on one of the three choices you made from those you picked in your first year to pursue.” mister terada stated as he started to call each name in the student's list, starting with the class president.
the giving off of the yearbook is also followed with a mini consultation of each student's progress. yes, right in front of the class, which can lead to embarrassment if they can’t keep up. but so far, everything still goes according to their plan, some even find themselves straying from their primary focus to explore something new or getting caught in something that becomes their infatuation.
most of his friends that have come forward and got their yearbooks have spoken about the same thing that they have spoken about just between the six of you: kokona is going to music school, nina is going to america and studying macroeconomics, and shota is pursuing game development. then, it was time for his turn as he heard the calling of a certain nishimura riki.
“that’s our idol!” he picked up taki's shouted words as the rest of the class laughed. everyone knows just how much riki likes to dance. he had shown his skills numerous times in the school’s talent shows either alone or with taki as the riki duo that they are. so it isn’t also a surprise for his classmates to find out he had been accepted into a label in south korea that has been throughout his school—courtesy of taki, as he is the one that always spills it.
it even created a whole discussion on why riki picked a korean label instead of japanese one, but one thing is prevalent in the discussion: the korean idol industry will see his dancing skills as more valuable than in the japanese idol industry. it’s just the way those industries goes honestly. but riki also wants to appreciate the korean idols that inspired him to be who he is right now; especially with the existence of japanese people in the korean idol industry and how the numbers are still going up.
the class seems to unanimously sing yoasobi’s idol as riki playfully does the gesture in the viral dance challenge as he now stands in front of mister terada. bowing down to greet him, he picks up the yearbook with two hands as the teacher asks, “how is it with your idol training?”
“it’s going good. i’m actually already planning to move to seoul after graduation so i can train better and have a higher chance of debuting.” yet, riki didn’t mention he will actually move tonight.
“well, we can’t wait to see you on the world stage, riki-kun. i love how consistent you are with it and i sure hope that your consistency could also inspire the juniors to follow their dreams.”
“thank you, mister terada.” he bowed his head once again before returning to his desk as mister terada called for the name after his. he playfully opened the yearbook and skimmed it before landing on his class. his fingers flip the paper to finally open to the page where all six of his friends are—because they shoot their pictures together. riki’s photo is the one where he had all the gakuran buttons off from their respective slots and he is holding the soccer ball against his hips.
“look at that, a very bad boy of a manga.” he could hear his thoughts speaking to him in your voice as he wished you acknowledged that. he also moved to the superlative pages as he could remember his same-year peers and juniors him in the running. he didn’t expect to win most changed by his peers. maybe it is because he has his growth spurt as he could tell that he might even grow 10 centimeters whilst in high school. but also with how his voice changes because of puberty and how his style changes to accommodate his interests, including more exposed yet baggy clothing and the clip-on earrings he likes to wear.
“(l/n)(y/n).”
riki heard the scrapping from the chair beside him as he watched you standing up and walking towards the front of the class. though you haven’t fully spoken about what you wrote on your career sheet, being a mangaka is what everyone knows that you wanted to be. your illustrating prowess has always been shown in the festivals the school made yearly, whether it is when you helped with the class’ food market by creating brochures and banners or when you even opened an illustration service where you drew students and teachers alike for them to have. it seems that you’ve got your life in line alongside him. and that’s why it shocked him to listen to what you’ve answered to mister terada’s question.
“yes, my progression with my university application is great. i’ve been accepted as a student in the international relations major in kyoto.”
riki’s eyes enlarged because he can’t believe what he is hearing. he turns his head towards his friends who are also looking at each other in quick succession, all of them having confusion on their faces before returning to you who is smiling like you didn’t even feel the quake that shook your friends’ beliefs about you. as you walked to your chair and look around at each of your friend’s face, you give them a tight-lip smile. yet, all of them hesitate to ask you why you choose international relations instead of design or art school. they have to respect your choice just like any of their classmate's changes.
the revelation shocked riki the most as he thought that you had trusted him enough to tell him everything. he has been your seatmate for three freaking years and you have grown up together since the first year. he had always seen you drawing in sketchbooks you bring in class, even ignoring some lectures so you can focus on drawing and reading manga. sure, he can see you must picked studying social science for a reason but he thought that—maybe just like he is as you both are creatives—you just don’t want to do math and natural science like he is.
the number of students without the yearbook dwindles as every desk has one on top of it. mister terada stares at the group he can call his kids while mumbling, “i’m so proud of all of you. hopefully you can continue to grow and be impactful towards society-“
“wait, mister terada!” the class president shouts as she scrambles to get something underneath her desk to then watch her pick up a new bouquet. “this is our gift to you so you also have your own bouquet alongside us.”
riki remembered when the class treasurer suddenly asked him if he wanted to contribute to gifting a bouquet to mister terada during the class’ yearbook photoshoot. he gladly accepts it as mister terada is the nicest homeroom teacher he had throughout high school. some of his other homeroom teachers are unnecessarily harsh towards the students and even shamed for not following through with their career sheets—knowing that teenagers also can get stressed too in doing so. mister terada is the only teacher riki can comfortably consult about his choice of being an idol. at that time, he was contemplating if he should audition for one or just focus on becoming a professional dancer. yet, mister terada’s push also helps contribute to him filling in the audition form.
mister terada received the bouquet from the class president as he stared at it, his eyes glimmering before saying, “thank you so much. could we get a class photo with all of us?”
the students are standing up as they try to set their places. one of the student’s parents, who is watching the class outside from the hallway window, steps in to take the picture. riki stands beside you, taking a peek to see you already in your pose as he can’t help but put his hand on your shoulder. what’s wrong with friends of the opposite sex being touchy with each other anyway when he had seen all the different hugs and leaning against shoulders between the six of you?
as the click of the phone camera taking the picture rings and dissipates, it’s followed by a chorus of thank yous being thrown around as some students hug each other. he is busy too, as some of his classmates are trying to take a few last selfies with riki before he becomes famous—making the rest of the gang just snicker from the side.
“i’m going to miss you guys,” shota spoke as all six of you were huddled in the group hug. one last warm hug before all of you are going to your separate ways. riki also should go back home to rest up as he will go to haneda airport later but when the hug separates and all of you six are promising to catch up and communicate in your line group chat, he is trying to keep up pace with you who is tidying up your purple backpack.
“(y/n)-chan.”
“yeah?” you looked up from the backpack after zipping it up, wanting to grab your drink and the pocky that you know you’ll be eating on your way home. yet, with the way riki is looking at you; you know he is trying to let something out.
“do you wanna hang out on the rooftop? for old time's sake, as it is our last chance.”
you held down your smile, knowing that you also didn’t want today to end so early.
“yes. let me text the others in the group-“
“just,” his voice cuts yours, “just the two of us.”
you watched as his glittering eyes told you something, telling you to follow him as you could definitely feel that something was hanging that you had to speak about. and you knew it was about the changes in your plan for the future, especially as you confide with riki so much of your dream in creating your own manga series.
putting the straps on your shoulders, you point your chin towards the door and say, “ok.”
-
the breeze comes rushing in even if you stand behind riki’s figure, blowing your hair as his figure turns into a silhouette when meeting the afternoon sun. you step out onto the concrete ground as you glance at the half wall circling around the perimeter, seeing a few chipped-out paint coming off from said walls before you turn around to be greeted with the rooftop garden. the rooftop that you and your friends have always been on since your first year.
the rooftop is a somewhat famous destination per se, but only the people who are brave enough to trudge against the ever-changing weather could remain here even within the three terms. so that’s why only a handful of people can call this rooftop their hangout place—other than the back of the school or the cafeteria. you glance at the shorter half wall near the garden, the place you and the rest of the six usually hung out at; ate lunch at, doing homework at, and spending your free time at. you can even remember when you initiated the circle’s “logo” as you write your name in an arch, making the others write their own to create a full circle following the curve.
you’re going to miss this place when you’re in kyoto. you’re going to miss the friends that you meet here.
stepping in front of you as you follow, riki approaches the short half wall that is also acting as a multi-use bench, eyes taking a glimpse at the garden’s chlorophyll coming back after winter has frozen them up. insects that seemed to be brave enough to fly this high are visiting here, carrying the pollen for the plants to grow faster. you follow his movement as you sit beside him, gazing at the beautiful view behind the half wall of the sky as the sun is on the way to setting on the west horizon.
riki reaches for his pocky as the sound of the box ripping is heard beside you, making you take your own opened one as you finally rip the plastic packaging open that separates you from the delicious cream on a biscuit stick. yours were more green than riki’s—hence the “rich matcha” flavor nina gave you. silently, you both take a bite of the stick that you pull out. your taste buds are overwhelmed by the combination of the matcha-flavored cream with the matcha-flavored biscuit stick. you look between the front of where you’re sitting to peeking from the corner of your eyes as you see riki doing the same, making you hold back the chuckle before awkwardness comes to remind you quick, making you finish your whole biscuit as your hand reaches inside the aluminum bag for another one.
“you said you want to be a mangaka?”
the breath that you are holding is slowly dripping out, knowing that your intuition is right as to why he brought you here.
“i thought we were gonna fulfill our dreams together…” riki’s voice seemed so cold—even colder than the leftover winter wind in spring.
your facial muscles twitch, maybe it’s because of the sudden sensitivity your face felt the breeze or is the answer that you don’t wanna think about suddenly popping into your mind. yet, when you turn your head—forcing yourself to be brave—you find riki already staring at you. his piercing eyes making goosebumps rising on your skin as, even through his eyes, you can read what he is telling you. you’ve drawn and seen characters in those eyes, but feeling it in real life feels different. much more hurting. much more loathing.
you try to think of the words that you remember you discussed with your parents as you talk about the future, as they’ve reminded you of how dangerous that industry could be—"many animators are crunching their hours. we don’t want to see you like that."—and the fact that they knew, they knew you couldn’t be creative under pressure makes you rethink it. and here you are, trying to explain that to your number 1 supporter, just as you are to him in his dancer-now-future-idol career.
“i, i don’t know if it’s viable for me…” you started, glancing between the pocky box you’re holding and him as you let out a sigh.
“then choose something else other than an illustration, like, i don’t know, painting? graphic design? you like those, right?” you can hear the way riki’s throat is getting hoarse as he speaks, how he is gritting his teeth when saying those words before he takes another stick from his pocky box and takes a bite. the muffled crushing of the biscuit is much louder than when you both are eating it.
“i have to think about my future, riki. you do know i like history and geography and international relation calls to me the same time as a career as a mangaka.” you said in nearly the same tone, not wanting to hold back as you can’t believe just how one-sided he seemed to think of you. that you’re not more than just an art kid in his eyes. “just like how you pick between being a dancer and a soccer player.” you said the last sentence, voice getting lower until the sentence ends near mumbling. but you know riki’s listening.
this is now the correct time for you to pour why you hid your choice from him.
“don’t you know just how dangerous the animation scene in japan is? people are overworked to churn out season upon season nearly every year. being an independent mangaka is also hard when you have to fight against the big guns in the industry. though i’m good at drawing, i don’t know about my writing skills-“
“you’re writing skill is perfectly fine.” he cuts your tangent, pivoting his head back towards you, still not stopping you from continuing.
“okay, but people are suffering there and if i join that system, i know i’ll be suffering too.” you rub the bridge of your nose near the corners of both of your eyes, pressing down on it as you don’t want a single tear out. not right now when you are trying to defend your choice. you’re willing to let out different words just to try to make him understand.
“and if i’m going to school in international relations, that doesn’t mean that i’ll be giving up on drawing. maybe i could join an organization or event there that needs someone to illustrate stuff. maybe i could try doing freelance whilst also working part-time in some convenience stores near tourist spots in kyoto. that doesn’t mean i’m going to easily give up on that dream, it’s just i’m taking the longer way.”
riki held his breath as he heard your reasoning, the way the look of your eyes seemed to dwindle but also increased in sparkles as he couldn’t figure out what feelings you were trying to say. anger? sadness? satisfy?
but when he felt your hand reach to hold his, he knew that you now want him to, at least, believe in you.
“you don’t know just how frustratingly messed up my thoughts are when you said you are accepted to a korean label and to fulfill your dream as a k-pop star.” your thumb caressed his pinky finger, “because i know that it’s going to be hard for me or for anyone in our circle to reach your level of success this young and to talk to you in general because you’re either going to be in korea all the time or you’re going to be layers behind bodyguards when you’re not there.”
you gulp down your saliva, “i’m glad one of us is going to fulfill our dreams faster.”
the last sentence hits riki so much that he has his life’s perspective turn in some random of degrees. he had heard of his parents talking about his older sister who is now in university, about just how different her childhood dream is compared to what she pursued whilst growing up. the same goes for riki, who wanted to be a soccer player before becoming a professional dancer and now being an idol. you must be facing the same thing. he recall how you mentioned you wanted to be a chef during your childhood, how it changed to your love for drawing, before seeing yourself as a diplomat, yet that could definitely change given you have four years of university.
life is definitely much more mysterious than what riki has been accepting. people’s wants and needs change given the situation, from the farthest to the nearest. dedicated people are there but the environment and instinct seem to tell them to change paths. he definitely realizes more that one person doesn’t have a definite answer to what is their purpose in life. is it like him to perform on stage? is it like what he thought you’d do in making a best-selling manga? all of that is a possibility, but that is not definite.
now he knows that the purpose of life is to live. every change of heart is there for a reason that is at the same level as every dedication. that, in life, anyone can define themselves as plural, like his mother who is also a businesswoman, and his father who is also an engineer. like you, who may become a diplomat and an artist. or even maybe him, who can be an idol but likes to play soccer. he had felt that he was erasing one dream for the next. but actually, he is just changing priorities to the one he is focusing on. that is his idol career for him and the international relations major to you—because that dream is still there, now lying dormant.
“you can fulfill your mangaka dream too, (y/n).” your ears perked up at what he was saying. your hand rests and is idle on top of his as you can feel his hand underneath yours flipping unto the other side. “what you said is true. that you can still have drawing as a hobby to help relieve you from school stress, that you can make pocket money out of it. that the place is still there for you even if you change your destination to try something else. and i’m sorry for not realizing that.”
his fingers move to be in between yours before curling in, making you look down at them before at his face, “i don’t know when we will arrive at the place that we want to go. maybe never. maybe someday. maybe even tomorrow.”
riki let out a tremendous sigh.
“but i believe that you can still get there. i believe that you, me, and our friends will eventually reach there,” he spoke his mind, making him turn away his head because of how his hand is randomly holding onto yours.
before he turns his back, he felt your fingers also curling to meet his hand, locking both of your hands as the sky is turning from a blue to an orange, letting you know just how much time you have with him as he had told you, and only you, that he’ll be leaving tonight.
“thank you.” your sentence of appreciation is enough to lift a smile on his face as it reflects on yours.
the scribble on the half wall remains there as you hoped some school officials wash it or paint it some months after today. the sunbeams shining through the window to the hallway where students are finishing cleaning up their class so they can return home. the green grass on the field creating short shadows beneath them as the sun starts to sink. your hand remains in riki’s as you both step out from the school gate for the last time—seeing your juniors, giving you a sad look to see you for the last time, but also a cheeky look after finding your connected hands.
you and him stood in front of the gate as you faced each other. both of your houses are on separate ways as you slowly let go of his hand, letting out a shrug whilst also having a small pout on your face.
“so, this is a goodbye, then? i can’t even contact you anymore because you’re going to be busy,” you spoke out the truth—knowing that k-pop trainees aren’t also allowed to have their phones most of the time.
“more of like a see you later because i know that i’ll be giving you and the rest of us six tickets if i someday hold a concert here,” he replied, holding onto the strap of his backpack as you find his pocky box peeking out from when the water bottle is supposed to be placed—mirroring your own self.
riki’s eyes seemed to glimmer with something as he reached to the buttons of his gakuran, tracing his fingers on the thick gold button as he reached the second from the top, easily popping it off as he pushed it towards you. you looked down and up at his face, not wanting to show the shock on your face as you reached for the button, pinching it between your fingers before you placed it on your palm and instantly curled it up to keep it safe.
his body got knocked back as he felt the arms wrapping around him. his arms are in a pause before he naturally lets go, raising his hands to rest on your back as he tugs you in closer. his mouth beside your ear.
“promise me you’ll remember me,” he whispered, sending chills running down your spine.
“i promise and i hope you do the same,” you replied, sensing a single tear falling out of your eyes as you wiped it away with his uniform.
“of course, i do,” he spoke back. his body seemingly not wanting to let go of you as you pull yourself back, feeling him holding onto your upper arms as you let out a tight-lip smile.
“go on. you have a flight to catch,” you smirked and took a few steps back when you sensed his grip loosen. your curled hand with the button in the grip is resting by your heart while you see riki’s wide smile as he steps backward opposite to where you are going. flailing his arms as a wave of goodbye as you just want him to go back fast so you can finally shed the tears that are wetting your eyes.
you raise your own hand as you wave a goodbye when riki looks at your figure getting smaller and smaller with every step he takes backwards, wanting to run back to you to give you one last hug because he knows he’ll be missing you so much. he hopes that you’ll arrive at your dream tomorrow, but he will always give a word of encouragement to you in his mind even if he is training in the dance studio in seoul starting tomorrow.
he hopes you keep and take care of his second button, just like how you have supported and encouraged him to pursue his dream. and he is now more determined than ever to make you and everyone who knows him deep down proud as he closes this chapter of his life and opens up the next.
taglist: @raeyunshm @leilasmom @evidive @boba-beom @kwiwin @heesw1fe @aloverga @endzii23 @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @yeehawnana @beansworldsstuff @kimipxl @blurryriki @amazzwon @reallysmolrenjun @stealanity @deobitifull @gandaengene @beomgyumineiro
© writingmochi on tumblr, 2021-2024. all rights reserved
#k-labels#enhypen imagines#enhypen angst#enhypen fluff#enhypen x reader#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fanfiction#niki x reader#rsc: dws#cr: niki#cs: enhypen#sc: regina
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
Reasons Scum Villian characters do not ask for help when wounded
Shen Qingqiu: hides the wound and pretends he isnt bleeding out because if he pretends hard enough maybe it will stop bleeding on its own. Mu Qingfang has tried to explain it doesn't work that way many times
OG Shen Qingqiu: he's not going to give anyone the satisfaction and make them think he's weak. Yue Qingyuan notices immediately and sends Mu Qingfang over anyway
Yue Qingyuan: thinks he deserves it so carries it like a penance until either of the Shen Qingqiu's find out and tell him off. OG Shen Qingqiu by yelling at him and Transmigrated Shen Qingqiu by pushing him all the way to see Mu Qingfang
Liu Qingge: he rubbed some dirt in it so it's fine. Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu beg to differ but he won't sit still long enough to get a bandage on him! They have to call in his sister to look sad at him until he feels guilty enough to let himself be fixed up
Shang Qinghua: will throw a fit about a papercut at Cucumber-bro but if seriously injuried conceals it while very angry that no one has noticed he is bleeding out yet. He'll angrily stand there until someone notices on their own or he decides it hurts too much and bandages himself up
Mobei Jun: concealing it only for as long as it takes to get to Shang Qinghua so he can fix Mobei Jun up. Mobei thinks this is very romantic. It sends Shang Qinghua into a panic every time and also pisses him off that he now has to wash his sheets to get all the blood out
Luo Binghe: before the end of the book doesn't seek help but doesn't hide it because he doesn't think anyone would care if he bleeds out so why seek help and why hide it? After the end of the book he will only allow Shizun to bandage him up. He heard from Mobei how romantic this is. Shen Qingqiu would like the protagonist to stop coming to him with papercuts he could heal on his own just fine!
Mu Qingfang deserves a raise
#svsss#svsss meta#shen qingqiu#shen jiu#yue qingyuan#shang qinghua#liu qingge#mobei jun#luo binghe#mu qingfang
588 notes
·
View notes
Note
hiii! i loved the way you wrote hearts, released, and was wondering if you could do the same concept but with barbatos, solomon, and satan? thank you!! your writing is so good btw hehe
a/n: oh anon you have my entire heart thank you so much ㅠㅠ
i've got another request for a continuation, so i'll probably do another two parts for this particular series!
a continuation of: hearts, released.
warnings: there is blood and injuries, MC dies. references lesson 16 of og obey me in barbatos' part. references to the great celestial war + lilith in satan's part.
important! this story is hurt/no comfort. make sure you're okay with that before reading on.
barbatos, solomon, satan × gen!reader. (separate.)
he thought he was seeing things when he found you in the clearing. battered, bleeding, bruised, as you struggled to stay conscious after what had just happened. the world around you flickered in and out of existence, and the only thing tethering you to reality was the pain that shot through your body. your head fell to the side where he stood, and with what limited strength you had left, you beckoned him over to you.
═ ˎˊ˗
barbatos.
barbatos slowly walked towards you, uncharacteristically hesitant in the way he carried himself to your side. usually so poised, back straightened and all, barbatos was curled in on himself, jaw tightening as he moved closer.
"barbatos, you don't look so good," you said as you tapped the spot next to you weakly. "come sit here." maybe it was the fact that you were dying, but a part of you expected him to reject the request. instead, he graced you with a smile, crossing his legs and settling himself at your side. "answering my final requests, are we?"
barbatos blinked at you, hoping to hide away the tears that had collected in the corners of his eyes. "still making jokes at a time like this?" he nearly whimpered the question out, composure wavering as you coughed out blood.
"of course. you know what i'm like." you grinned at the demon, meeting his gaze; it was empty. you held it for a while, listening to the breeze blow through the trees before speaking again. "did you know this would happen?"
his expression fell ever so subtly, fists clenching as he tried to think of a way to answer. "i was... aware that it would happen."
"did you know it would happen today?"
"... no."
your hand stretched out towards barbatos, finding a place to rest on his knee. "if you did know, would you have stopped it?"
tentatively, he placed his hand on top of yours, fingers curling around your palm gently. "i can only change your fate so many times, MC."
a broken laugh echoed out from you, your own grip strengthening around his fingers. "yeah, that sounds like something you would say." you shuddered against the wind, feeling the blood trickle down your side slowly. "i'm sorry, barbatos," you whispered into the air, hand falling away from his.
barbatos' head drooped, his shadow blanketing the sorrow that made its way onto his face. "it's me who has to apologise," he whispered out, silent tears dripping onto your corpse.
═ ˎˊ˗
solomon.
solomon moved urgently, steps heavy on the ground as he ran towards you. as soon as he reached you, he fell to his knees by your side, trembling while his hand tried to grasp at yours. it wasn't often you saw solomon so panicked. lightly, you touched at his wrist, causing the sorcerer to look at you.
"it's okay, solomon," you hummed softly.
solomon shook his head at you. "whatever hurt you just now; it counters my spells. i can't do anything," he snapped at thin air, his words strangled as they fought to be spoken. his chest began heaving, fear settling in his body before his mind could process it. "i can't heal you."
a strange mixture of guilt and dread washed over you; not being able to be saved, and also knowing solomon would be the only one to see you like this made your heart ache more than your wounds did. "that's okay, solomon," you exhaled, wincing as you turned onto your side to try and face him. "just stay with me for now."
solomon slumped unceremoniously closer to the ground, leaning over you to palm at your bleeding side. his breaths caught in his throat repeatedly, quiet sobs filling the air as he sat next to you. "you didn't strike me as someone who would cry at someone's end," you chuckled as best you could.
the white haired man huffed at you, wiping away his tears with his sleeve. "very bold of you to make that statement to an immortal." he spoke coldly through gritted teeth, no longer bothering to look you in the eye. you gave him a forlorn smile in return, trying not to wince at the increasing pain in your nerves.
solomon felt the thread keeping him together unravel when he looked at your expression. "i can't heal you, but i think i can still help," he said, pulling out his wand from his coat. encantations you had never heard before spilled out of his mouth, wispy trails of light dancing around the two of you until you finally felt his magic working. eventually, the pain in your side dulled, leaving you numb to everything other than the fact that you didn't have long left.
"are you in pain?" solomon asked against his own will.
"... no, not so much." you tilted your head to look at him. "are you?"
"... i am."
weakly, you squeezed his wrist one more time before closing your eyes. "i'm sorry about that."
"it's okay, MC." solomon watched as your hand fell away from his, heart shattering at the sight. "it's okay," he said again, taking your hand back in his to wait for the warmth to fully disappear.
═ ˎˊ˗
satan.
the fourth born didn't dare take a step closer. his vision was clouded with red, his anger and your blood swirling together to stain his thoughts. his own blood, boiling, pounded inside his head, drowning out your voice as you tried to call to him.
in a desperate attempt, you shouted his name one more time, tears springing to your eyes when the effort made it feel like there were talons digging into your lungs. satan finally made eye contact with you, fear dancing in his irises. "satan," you coughed out, trying to reach for him. "come."
he followed the order immediately, but unlike usual, remained meek. with his face downcast and his fists balled up tightly as his side, satan walked over to you. if you had the ability to sit up, you would. instead, you had to settle for a frail attempt to catch his hand in yours. your fingers brushed against his leg in the process, and you felt satan stiffen at the contact. "satan," you pleaded with him, now tugging weakly at his clothing. "come here."
satan eventually obliged, bending down so that he could settle back onto his heels, all while pointedly avoiding your line of sight he kept his eyes trained on the ground, too afraid that the image of you dying would cause him to rampage. "i'm here," he spat out, lower lip quivering as he spoke.
"you can look at me, you know." immediately, his green eyes disappeared from sight as he turned away from you. "nothing will happen, satan. i just wanna see your face," you said, words slurring together as you started to lose your consciousness.
satan's gaze flickered to yours, sorrow etching itself into his features, and guilt carving a place in his eyes. "what now, MC?"
your expression softened. "make sure you ask your brothers for help, okay?"
satan immediately growled at the idea, slapping your hand away from him. "with what?"
"you'll know soon enough." you stifled a sob, understanding that satan didn't know any better. saying nothing more, you allowed yourself peace, falling further away from the light until there was no return.
satan wrestled against the thoughts that constricted his chest, feeling every heartbeat slam harder and harder against his ribcage. he hated himself for only knowing wrath; for not being able to show you something else in your final moments. a loud screech tore itself out of his throat, splitting through the devildom and shattering the skies.
for the first time, satan understood how his brothers felt all those years ago. he understood why they went to war for her. because he too, would have gone through war if it meant saving you.
a/n: satan who doesn't know how to process emotions on top !!! also don't ask why solomon can't heal you but can take away pain okay let's all ignore that :)
#obey me#obey me swd#omswd#obey me barbatos#obey me solomon#obey me satan#barbatos x reader#barbatos x you#solomon x reader#solomon x you#satan x reader#satan x you#obey me angst#aris writes 🐈⬛#aris answers 🐈⬛
202 notes
·
View notes
Note
I love your writing so much <3 could you please write about og Michael, Bubba and Jason getting cleaned, dressed nicely and generally pampered by their s/o before bed?
Awww thank you so much! I’m so glad you enjoy it! I love this prompt, these boys deserve all the pampering and love!
Wrote this on mobile so I apologize if it looks strange. Also I’m so sorry for taking so long to write this, I’ve had huge writers block and my mental health really hit me with a hammer I swear-
Slashers with a s/o that pampers and loves them before bed
Gender neutral reader - they/them and you is used
Slashers featured - og Michael Myers, Bubba Sawyer, and Jason Vorhees
Michael Myers
It had been a long day for Michael. It was Halloween after all, the one day every year he went out and did… Well you already know all about that.
So when your partner came back home, clothes bloodied and clearly looking exhausted, you knew you had to help. Without saying anything you went to the bathroom and began a hot shower for him. You knew he much preferred showers over baths. But to make it a little extra special you got him a new smelling shampoo, rather than the plain non scented one he had been using. Nothing strong to overwhelm him. But something a little nicer than smelling just like… Well nothing.
“Shower is all ready for you, Michael. Go ahead and leave your clothes outside the door and I’ll get them all washed for you.” You smiled at him. He said nothing, but ruffled your hair as he walked past you, a silent way of saying thanks. After you heard the door shut you gathered up his clothes, spraying them down with all the cleaning products you have (plus a little extra) and tossed them in the wash by themselves. You made the mistake of washing them with your clothes one time. Never again…
While waiting for Michael to get done with his shower you made the bed, smoothing out the blankets. Michael came out of the bathroom soon after you were done, a towel wrapped around his waist and wet hair that you couldn’t help but laugh at. He tilted your head at you and you shook yours back at him. “Nothin, Mikey, don’t worry about it.” You assured. “I think we should head to bed, it’s late and you’ve had a long day.”
He seemed to like that idea, slipping on a pair of boxers and some pumpkin pajama pants that you seemed to think he absolutely needed. He’d never admit it to you, but they were his favorite thing to wear to bed. The two of you got settled in bed, you quickly finding place in Michaels arms as you gently rubbed his back to help his sore muscles. He had to admit, he did feel a lot better now that he was home with you… Oh and I suppose the shower and nice bed helped too, but mostly you. So he expressed his gratitude by gently kissing the top of your head, making you hum in response.
Bubba Sawyer
“Bubba?” You called out for your partner, but got no response back. You quickly made your way around the house in search for him, but when you found him hunched over the couch crying, your heart sank. Quickly you crouched in front of him, lifting his face in your hands to have him look at you. His mask felt rough on your skin, but you never minded it.
“Bubs what’s wrong?” You asked but only got a string of mumbled whimpers and blubbers as you softly brushed his hair with your fingers. He motioned his hand around his face, making you frown as you could guess what was wrong. Some visitors has stumbled onto the property earlier today, and Bubba went and took care of it. And knowing how rude the people that come across any of the Sawyers, but especially Bubba, they definitely made your man feel bad about the way he looks. And that made your blood boil. But they were gone now, so it wasn’t like you could go do anything to them. What you could do was take care of your partner and try and cheer him up.
“Hey hon, how would you feel about a nice warm bath?” You offered him with a soft smile. “Sometimes when I’m upset they help me. And then after that we can go take a nice nap?” You wiped the tears from his cheeks as he nodded into your hands, and lead him towards the bathroom. You made sure the water wasn’t too hot or cold and then turned to Bubba with a gentle look. “Want me to wash your hair for you?” He froze with a beet red face, almost unsure if he should let you. Laughing you kissed the side of his head. “Don’t worry I won’t be lookin atcha like that.” As much as you’d love to fully appreciate your partners body, you knew right now wasn’t the time for that.
Slowly Bubba nodded his head and stripped his clothes once you looked away, slowly dipping himself in the water and giving a small grunt to let you know you could turn around. All you could see was his bare back and messy hair. You made sure to get his hair nice and wet and then began massaging the shampoo into his hair, nails softly scratching his scalp and making him lean his head back against your hand. You made small talk with him to distract him from what upset him. Telling him about your day, what plans you had for the weekend, and other random things. Finally you rinsed the soap out of his hair and turned back around, hand gripping the door.
“I’m gonna go get our bed ready, take your time in here.” You said before leaving the bathroom. The bed was already made but you decided to dig out a new pair of pajamas that you were gonna give to Bubba for his birthday, but perhaps today is a better day to give it to him. Bubba came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around him and hair damp. He went over to the dresser to get some clothes, but stopped when he noticed the pajamas you had placed on the bed. A nice dark blue tank top so he won’t get too hot in the Texas heat, and some shorts that had chickens scattered across them.
Bubba wasted no time getting into the new pajamas and practically tackling you to the bed as he happily squealed and peppered your cheeks with kisses. He seemed to be in a much better mood!
Jason Vorhees
Finally for once in what feels like forever, you and Jason had a day to spend together with no interruptions. Aka, no one crossing in the camp. Which shouldn’t be as common as it is. It isn’t even summer yet!
As the two of you snuggled on the couch watching your movie roll it’s credits, Jason noticed how dark it had gotten outside and tapped your shoulder.
‘It’s late,’ he signed. ‘We should get settled down.’ A yawn escaping your lips let him know that you agreed.
Jason went into your shared bedroom to go make the bed, meanwhile you decided the run him a warm bath. Jason noticed you hadn’t followed him and found you in the bathroom running the water.
“Thought a warm bath would be nice for you.” You smiled up at him. ‘If I smell you could have just said-‘ he began signing which made you laugh.
“No no you don’t smell!” You said between laughs, turning off the faucet. “It’s just a good way for you to relax your muscles. Besides after all the work you do around here to make sure we’re safe it’s the least I can do,” You gentle massaged his shoulders before then exiting the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. “Just don’t get so relaxed you fall asleep in there!” You jokingly shouted from behind the closed door
You decided to get Jason’s pajamas laid out on the bed for him and went to the bookshelf and grabbed the book you two had been reading together.
Jason didn’t take long in the bath, and when he came out and saw you laying underneath the covers with the book in hand his eyes lit up. You could just tell he was smiling underneath his mask. Quickly he slipped into the pajamas you had laid out for him and slipped under the covers, snuggling up close to you.
“Gotta take your mask off, Jason.” You softly spoke as you gently took it off his face and set it down on the nightstand besides him. “It’s not good for you to sleep in.” Pressing a soft kiss against his nose, making his chest shake in a small giggle fit as he smiled down at you. The two of you stayed snuggled up, as you read only a short chapter before noticing Jason had fallen asleep. It was slightly difficult to get the lamp turned off with Jason’s arms wrapped around your waist, but you managed.
#slasher x reader#halloween#og michael myers#og michael x reader#michael myers#michael myers x reader#jason vorhees x reader#jason vorhees#friday the 13th x reader#friday the 13th#bubba sawyer x reader#bubba sawyer#texaschainsawxreader#texas chainsaw massacre#cannibals writing requests#request#horror movie x reader#horror movies#horror movie
184 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nightmare Sans
Oh sinful child, wash off your bones but never forget that blood is thicker than water. Nightmare, was it all really worth it?
Headcanons below. Warning though, I changed some stuff up for the og story to fit how I like it teehee
- Official height changes, but he can be from 5'7 to 6'6(Jesus 💀)
- He/They
- Nihilist, he despises Fate and the Creators
- The embodiment and King of Negativity/A God if you will
- His castle was created when he was corrupted, and later on decided to make it himself
- Naturally cold to the touch, he's not easily affected by temperature
- Has synesthesia, he can see and smell others emotions/aura
- He likes sea animals, they're odd and yet so pretty and mysterious
- Has khopesh blades for weapons because they're twin blades
- He dreams of other versions of him, but he can never find them and often he is haunted by them
- An angry crier, hyperventilates and gets frustrated. Tries to be quiet, but sometimes ends up being loud anyways
- Pessimistic, cynical, observant, responsible, sarcastic, serious, assertive, untrusting, cunning, ruthless, manipulative, reserved, blunt, bitter, intelligent, patient, authoritative, cocky, and stubborn
- He is outright nasty to others, the type to jab at others when possible
- He grows more exhausted overtime once his resentment and bitter anger starts to fade over time
- he is more emotionally driven when his brother is involved in fights that he gets involved in, while more logical otherwise since Dream is the only one to get him like that
- He knows he's fucked up and deep down wants to repent for the wrongs that he has done towards the multiverse. And yet, he has his duties to fulfill
- He fears being vulnerable and doesn't get close to others as a result
- He makes deals and can "play" with his victims when he chooses to. Alliances are all well and good as well, but he is only loyal for as long as the contracts are fulfilled and as long as the other is loyal
- Time thaws his heart, in truth he can feel just as much as a child as Dream at times
- They have a giant library that they read
- Has wonderful manners and speaks very formally. Due to their origins, they also happen to have an accent of some sorts
- His goo tends to always return to him so one ability of his is flicking goo before it can harden and sharpen like spikes at a location
- He can be hit with anything and not get affected unless it's a weapon from his brother
- Strong positivity makes him nauseous, lightheaded, and weak
- Can sense other people's emotions but has the most influence on negativity
- Can analyze others extremely well, reading their body language and analyzing their words
- Hobbies of theirs include reading and writing, or even playing piano since he has a fondness for it
- His magic smells of something akin to earthy scents and moisture, like oak with wet dirt that carries a faint sweetness of decay. His magic tastes something akin to apple
- He's intolerant to children being injured, bullied, or abused. It reminds him of his childhood and thus he is protective of them
- Despite scaring most children, he refuses to harm them and is quite patient and kind to them
- He misses his brother, he does. He tells Dream things he doesn't mean in moments of anger or to get at him, but he doesn't mean pretty much most of it. He doesn't actually blame Dream, at least since he's matured over time
- He never got closure when Dream turned to stone, so those wounds opened up easily when he found out that he was alive. He tried to bury his past but his brother, whose bone is of a porcelain memory to his origins, haunt him
- He can't stand the color yellow, it reminds him of Dream. But, he has secret items that are of a yellow color
- He is fond of flower language and his favorite flower is the purple hyacinth. Fun fact: hyacinth blossoms under full sunlight, and they have wonderful symbolism. Dahlias, orchids, and hydrangea are those he is fond of as well
- He treasures the few things he's gifted, but rarely does he receive anything
- He gets slightly uncomfortable around stone, even if he knows that no one is inside. It just makes him secretly nervous
- Loves animals, but he won't touch them due to his goop and negativity
- His teeth can form into sharp fangs and he has clawed hands, his bone sharpened over time
- He avoids water because if he's fully submerged you can see the inner body that negativity possesses. Aka his original one
- He usually is covered in goop but rarely does it remove around him as a sort of venom situation. In fact, the two are separate entities in some ways, working as one
- Funnily enough he's a perfectionist who likes his things organized, especially when it comes to plans
- Does not use or understand slang
- He is a wonderful strategist, he even plays chess and can use the pieces as a visual understanding of it
- Hates sleep and avoids it until it's impossible to do so
- Can go into other people's dreams and cause intense nightmares, but he cannot do the same for his own and he is forgotten the moment the individual awakes
- He actually cares deeply for a lot of things, but he refuses to acknowledge this under most circumstances. If he vocalizes it, he threatens others to not do anything towards it
- He doesn't hate Error or even Ink, but he finds both to be a pain in the ass. Ink is one of the few he can't wrap his head around and he is one of the few who suspects Ink, especially because his emotions and aura seem....odd
- A more quiet and reserved being, he doesn't talk much unless he has to address someone or when he chooses to respond
- He's hard to read due to his air of apathy, he has learned how to avoid others detecting how he feels
- Even after eons, he won't let anyone else harm Dream
- The stronger the negativity, the larger he grows
- His original name is Night, him and Nightmare are separate but very much intertwined
- His original job was to protect those from negativity and also balance emotions in hard times to guide others, allowing sadness to occur
- Used to Call Dream Sunny as his nickname, and he refuses to let anyone call him Nighty since only Dream called him that
- People like to think of Night being manipulated by negativity but also it's important to note that what if that negative entity actually did feel that pain Nighty went through and was a source of comfort for him when Mother Tree wasn't? Yes, it eventually hurt him by convincing him to eat the apples to be corrupt, but if it's a parasite in my interpretation? I'd want to be maybe like- a situation where the corruption was also genuinely caring of Nighty while simultaneously being the reason Nighty indulged in his anger and hurt
- Multilingual, he knows every language fluently
- He had time to learn how to read and write, he forgot that Dream didn't the first time he saw a tree inside an AU carved by Dream with horrible writing underneath. That realization sort of made his "soul" crumble at the thought
- He has severe thanantophobia, he actually is deeply afraid of dying despite his circumstances. It's something he stresses out about and when Dream became more dangerous, he grew more nervous
- He's actually insecure about his aura at times, especially near those he doesn't wish to harm. He worries if they don't want to be around him because of it, which just worsens his aura
- He thought Dream died long ago, as he was disoriented and was too busy grieving. He didn't actually want Dream to die, and I actually hc that he threw the cloak over Dream to protect him as an apple happened to fall underneath with Dream. He was ashamed when Dream saw him again, and saw who he became. Still, he didn't want to change his ways because of the resentment he still held at the time
- He used to visit Dream and would cry next to his statue before he went off to feed off negative timelines. Even then, he would visit on their birthday
- He destroys mirrors and refuses to look at himself. He doesn't want to remember what he used to look like or who he's now become
- He has a secret painting that he was able to create deep inside his castle, one of Dream. He has destroyed previous ones due to finding them imperfect, a disgusting reminder, etc. this one though, this one he keeps
- His favorite fruit is pomegranate, he can perfectly deseed it and it's his favorite snack other than apple pie
- He used to be great with animals, barely do any of them approach him however
- He likes forests, the scent and even the sensation. He just wishes that he could feel Mother Tree again
- He enjoys herbal tea, actually much more than coffee and his favorite is lavender tea
- He avoids anything related to apples or fire, it reminds him of his past and in fact he grows nervous about it
- Doesn't realize that his tentacles react to his emotions, going so far as to flick with irritation at times
- His tentacles often just appear at will or with extreme emotion, but when they do appear to be actually quite painful since they tore through his back bones. Nowadays, he's numb to it and the bones have attempted to grow back due to magic healing he's attempted to find
- His tentacles actually can act like tree branches or at least resemble them. Firm, shaped similar, etc
- Genderless but prefers masc pronouns
- He actually never lies, but twisting the truth so hard involves enough intellect and leaves him to be a dangerous figure
- on the aroace spectrum
- Gets really goopy when sleeping, to the point he looks boneless
- Out of respect and guilt after coming back to his senses after the incident, he used parts of Mother Tree as custom furniture inside his castle so that she doesn't go to waste at all.
- He actually could hear her screaming when he was corrupted, and that sound haunts him
- He forgot what a hug feels like, the only time he was ever hugged in his life was with Dream. Time caused him to forget
- I feel that his form, present, isn't his true form but he keeps it up because it not only was the turning point in his life, but what protected him. It's why I think it works as something else when it detached itself. The goop at this point is a different part of who he is, and only when he is alone does it detach to speak
- Even if he causes nightmares and enters inside other monsters minds, he actually just has dreams. He dreams of what would've happened if they were happy, being raised by the mother tree, if he and his brother grew up without being guardians. It haunts him, makes him question if he was actually just justified in what he did. Was his actions worth it?
- He hates losing control of situations, absolutely throws a fit
- Struggles getting drunk, so he only drinks wine and magical drinks. Smoking doesn't please him, goop covers it anyways
- He doesn't discriminate, fools. Useless hatred feeds him, sure, but that doesn't mean he agrees and even will react violently towards blatant hate crimes
Closing Notes: no one talk to me, no one look at me. I don't exist, these two are the reasons I need therapy
#headcanon#undertale au#alternate universe#nightmare sans#nighty#utmv sans#utmv au#utmv#dreamtale#he deserves better#i want to cry#i want to hold him#tell him that hes going to be okay#he was just a kid#hes so traumatized#ourgh
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
The flesh you thread between my blood and bones slows down the pendulum of death
Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!MedicDoc OC (codename: Blue) 💀💙
WARNINGS: Mention of profanity, scars, fluff, anxiety, medical inaccuracies, surgery, blood, gore and just getting the POV of our friendly neighbourhood masked menace.
Plot: Doctor Ruhari Hari Kaur (OC is South Asian ☺️) joins the 141 again, but this time as their doctor. After the betrayal of Shepherd and Graves, Task Force 141 begins their hunt on his whereabouts and locating Makarov.
PLEASE reblog and like! Hope folks are enjoying the series, I am building up characters and plots, cos I have a lot ideas and just been enjoying writing :D
Song inspo: Don't Fear the Reaper - Tom Jones, American Idiot - Green Day, After Dark - Mr.Kitty, 1973 - James Blunt
I grew up with the OG MW2 game, so there are some references to the old one, so kind of a mix of both the OG and the new timeline... (Also I'm ignoring the OG Shepherd betrayal and keeping in line the one with the new timeline..)
All rights reserved to the rightful owners of Call of Duty Modern Warfare.
spelling and some grammar mistakes as I am bad at times... :/
(FYI: bold sentences... that are like this... are supposed to describe redacted data/info to the plot... ;] .. )
Please do let me know how you all are finding this fanfic! :D
PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14 and PART 15 I
Part 15 II
Ghost stared at the yellow sign reading in black NO UNAUTHORISED PERSONNEL ALLOWED BEYOND THIS POINT on the white double doors that led to the operating room where Soap had been wheeled in by both doctors, surrounded by other medical staff.
As he walked behind them when they rushed ahead he heard them shouting all sorts of medical jargon. You were so calmly ordering for mLs of drugs with too many Zs. He looked down at his skeletal gloves, the fake bones once white now stained red with Johnny's blood.
Looking up again at the sign he thought of you. How your hands would also be bloodied, pouring deep into Soap's body, mending him.
You gotta save him he pleaded in his head. He couldn't lose Soap, not now. Not after what they had been through together in Mexico, Chicago... now this.
'C'mon Lt!' Soap's words rang through his skull. Guilt flooded his chest as he remembered moments of how blunt he had been to Soap...
Squeezing his fist tight, Ghost sighed and then walked down the corridor until he found himself a chair in an empty room and plopped the chair right outside those double doors. Sitting down, Ghost winced with pain, the cut sobbed as he sat down and moved his torso.
"Fuuuck" He growled quietly.
Leaning back, he shut his eyes letting the darkness wash over him.
...
Soap was lifted onto the surgical bed. As you and Peyton scrubbed in, the nurses dressed him. Through the window of the scrub room you watched as he was intubated, his bloodied clothes discarded in the yellow hazard bin.
Once scrubbed and prepped, you assume the lead role in the surgery. Neuro was your speciality, this was a spinal injury. This is your arena. Closing your eyes, you breathe in.
"It's a beautiful night to save lives" You say, opening your eyes. Peyton eyes crinkle, a sign she was smiling under her medical mask.
"10 blade" You say and the nurse gives your instrument. You place the edge of the blade two inches above the bullet wound, applying pressure with your index finger you slide the blade across the skin unveiling the flesh beneath.
"Suction" Peyton says and she moves in with the machine that gargles up the blood from the exposed muscle
Peeling back the muscular layers you clamp down areas needing support. Soap's lumbar was one display. No major damage could be seen.
"Bullet must've missed the lumbar" Peyton says
"L1 clear" You say inspecting the upper lumbar region, with your blade you move down
"L2 clear"
"Suction" Peyton says
"L3 clear" you say and then move down
"Suction"
As you looked around L4, there was a sudden gush of blood and the monitors started beeping rapidly
"Found the bullet" You say "Clarissa, Kerrison rongeur" holding your left hand up whilst holding the area with your blade as Peyton continued suction. The beeping subdued.
"Need another pair of hands for this" You say
Peyton gave the suction pipe to the nurse on her right and then took hold of a clamp and forceps.
Cutting away at the connective tissue and muscle you peel the layer as Peyton grabs the shrapnel
"Hard part now.." She said after depositing the shrapnel in dish
Rapid beeping started again. You and Peyton both move together, suction, cutting, threading and assessing any damage to the surrounding nerves.
"Pulse at 120" Clarissa said as she took hold of the forceps from Peyton
"Shit" You say as more blood gushed from the wound which was quickly slurped away from the suction pipe.
"Sutures" Peyton said and she began to sew up the first damaged nerve.
There was a increase in beeping
"Pulse 150"
"Let me do it" You say and Clarissa swiftly gives you a new set of sutures.
After adjusting yourself you look down "Surgical microscope please"
And the microscope was brought down to your level and adjusted to your eyeline.
Focusing your eyes through the lense you begin to graft the a new nerve from the damaged nerve, cutting the damaged part and sewing the ends.
This was your element. Fixing the broken. Mending the hurt.
After 5 hours of intense surgery, you and Peyton were nearly finished. The beat of song playing off the speaker was echoing across the walls of the OR. Nodding your head along to the drum of Green Day's American Idiot as you finished suturing the final layer of Soap's skin.
"Nice finish" Peyton said as she cleaned the area "Stats are good" she added looking at the various monitors that beeped rhythmically along with the music.
"Pause music please" You said, one of the nurses pauses.
You cut the last suture and place the forceps onto the tray held by Clarissa.
"Good job Dr Kaur" She said nodding at you. You nod back and return to admire the handiwork which was being dressed by Peyton and another nurse.
"He is stable and stats are looking great" Clarissa says as you eye the monitor. You turn to her and smile, putting more effort to crinkle as your mouth was hidden behind the mask.
"We will take him back to the ICU just for observation" Peyton said as she moved over from Soap to you and Clarissa.
"I'll help take him" Clarissa said "Well done"
"No thank you" You say "Thank you everyone" You say loudly to the rest of the medical team all who respond with a cheerful thanks back.
"I'm gonna head back" You say
"I'll keep you updated, and let you know when the team can see him" Peyton says taking her gloves off as they left the OR, she tapped you on the shoulder and walked off.
Taking off your surgical cover, masks and gloves you wash the grimy sweat off your hands. The smell of strong disinfectant soap filled your nose.
Leaving the scrub room you walk off back towards the double doors where you had rolled Soap in. He was okay now. Had to wait until he was awake to see if there is any nerve damage to his legs...
Checking one of the clocks on the hallway you realise it was 11:49am, you longed for a hot shower and then the comfort of your bed. Walking through the double doors, midway through yawning you were met with a giant man sat in the middle of the hallway. The skull face gave you a jump. It took a few moments to register that it was Ghost.
"Lieut-"
Ghost leapt up from his chair and nearly toppled you over as he confronted you
"Is he alright? Did he make it?" He blurted, his eyes widening at you.
You stare back into his eyes, only just able to make out the blue iris.
"He's okay." You say, reaching your right hand up to to his shoulder.
"His legs, said somethin' abou' his legs" Ghost huffed at you
"Ghost, he is stable and in the ICU, regarding his legs, we will have to wait until he wakes up to assess any damage." You to him calmly
He takes in this information, your calm demeanor. Of course you know what you are doing he thought to himself
"Are you okay sir? You ask
"I'm okay" Ghost said quickly.
You look at him curiously, there was something off about him.
"Okay then.." You say moving away from him.
Ghost moves towards the chair and picked it up with his left arm, the sudden weight made him wince and groan as his unattended wound stretched and weep as he moved.
"Fuuck" He whispered to himself as he set the chair back down and placing his right hand over his wound on the left side of his waist.
"Lieutenant what happened?" You say rushing over to him
"Nothin'" He said trying to push you away. You scoff at him and roll your eyes.
"Ghost, I'm in no mood for bullshit" You say sharply at him. Ghost looked at you, eyebrows narrowed, your eyes slightly red and clearly tired.
He was being rude again.
"I got a nick" He said motioning to his wound looking at your stern face, eyes narrowed. Clearly annoyed. "Can you patch me up?" He asks, your stern face relaxed, softened.
"Right, come with me" You say letting out a big sigh and head out of the RAMC building and then back to the infirmary in Building 2.
Turning the light on you spritz the med bed and give it a quick wipe.
"Get your vest off" You say plainly to Ghost who follows your command. He unties the straps and then sets his vest aside. Attempting to take his hoodie off but he couldn't as the wound caused him to wince further.
"Need some help?" You say as you look over to Ghost who was clearly struggling.
"Alrigh' then" He said and braced himself as you walk closer to him, bringing your hands to his body, rolling the hem of his hoodie slowly and carefully.
Ghost winced again as you went near his waist.
"Might have to cut it off" You suggest looking up at him.
"Go on then" He mumbled, the edge of his mouth curved slightly under his mask.
Grabbing a pair of clothing shears, you cut the hoodie off Ghost, revealing a damp black shirt underneath, his bare muscular arms on unveiled. You look at his waist, and see a patch of dried up blood, parts of his shirt clung to his skin dried and wrinkled.
"Sit on the med bed please" You motioning to the bed and then you walk off to the bathroom to wash your hands. Sleep eludes you. Drying your hands you head back to where Ghost was, who was now sitting crouched on the edge of med bed.
Putting on a pair of gloves and grabbing a stool with your foot you slide close to Ghost, and lift the t-shirt. As suspected the parts that clung to the skin where dried stuck to the wound. An impromptu weak bandage.
"Gonna also have to cut your shirt around the wound, it's dried to the gash"
Ghost looked down at you.
"Can't you bandage it?" He asks and the expression your face held clearly showed he asked a stupid question.
Your look of disbelief subdued, and grabbed the scissors. Ghost's heart quickened. He didn't mind being shirtless. But not when he has been in the field with limited availability to shower, smelt like shit and especially in front of a woman he was interested in...
"Wai-" Ghost began but he was too late, you began to cut his shirt off him, exposing his sticky sweaty scarred skin.
As you cut away at the fabric you notice various deep pink and white scars adorned on his chest and abdomen. Dirt had built up in areas, but it was expected. A shower is the last thing you need in the field.
Grabbing some saline water and a towel, you wash away dirt surrounding the remaining cloth covering his wound. Gently, with your gloved fingers you peel the cloth away revealing the gammy wound. Inflamed and dirty.
"Lift your arm" You ask and Ghost does so and watches as your pour more saline to the wound, his eyes focused on the precision placement of your fingers on his waist, not ogling him.
He slightly winces as your fingers graze over a sensitive area. As you examine the area, you notice it was bumpy, sand had gotten into the wound.
"This area is very inflamed. Lie down, it'll sting as I clean it" You say gently
Ghost shuffled back and then. laid down and then turned his head to watch as you focused on cleaning his wound, your concentration unwavering as you focused on the task at hand. He noticed the lack of talking, just blunt and no joy. But then, you did just finish a 6 hour surgery.
He gazed at your tired eyes, noticed how you rapidly blink every now and then, your mouth pursed, no smile on show. You grabbed some small gauze and wiped the wound.
"This is going to need stitches" You say
"Hmm" Ghost mumbled "I'll let you get to work, I'll just be here" He adds
You laugh slightly and then finish cleaning the area before starting to suture the two layers of fatty tissue and muscle, pulling the flesh together again, wiping away any blood with clean gauze.
Ghost felt himself slip into the bed beneath him as you got to work, focusing on his breathing; in for four, hold, then out slowly for four. Drifting away, away from the chaos of the last 24 hours. Away from the chaos that still looms ahead of him.
<CUE FLASHBACK>
23rd August 2010
Ashfield Base, mess hall
"Sergeant Riley" You said as you plopped down opposite your superior in the mess hall with your lunch, the hall was mostly empty, the radio played on the speaker overhead.
"Cadet" Sergeant Riley said not looking up from his cup of tea and half-eaten sausage roll.
"C'mon sir, you know my name" You quipp at him as you take a bite of your pizza.
Simon looks up from his cup and stars at you, your eyes widened and the grin appeared on your face.
"Cadet Ruhari" He sighed looking back at his sausage roll.
"Cadet maybe no more" You say cheerfully
Simon looked up quickly
"What do you mean?" He asked
"Captain asked if I wanted to come join full time, commit proper into the army." You said
"Ah" Simon said quietly "Ain't you got some good brains for uni?" He added and looked at you as you shrugged
"Maybe can do it later, but I do enjoy this" You say motioning the space around you.
"Nothin' enjoyable about war" He said sharply
You were taken aback "Of course not sir, I just meant as in discipline, camaraderie and the protection of one's country"
"Hmm" Simon mumbles giving you a slight cold stare with his sharp blue eyes.
In that moment of silence, the radio station at base start playing 1973 by James Blunt. The echoes of the piano filled your body and you began to twiddle your fingers to the beat of the drum. Looking at Simon you start to grin, he looks up at you as you begin to mouth the lyrics:
Simona.. you're getting older
Your journey's been etched on your skin...
"Simonaaaa" You sing quietly and giggle
Simon gazed at your joyous smile as you continued to mouth the lyrics of the stupid song that made a twist of his name. He watched on as you exaggerated the 'mona' part of Simona and laughed along with you. Simon knew the Captain was going to offer you a place in the army, but he had hoped you would decline.
Going out in the field changes people. Changes the best of people. Turns them into someone else.
Would you still be the same after you see the horrors of war? Simon wondered as he watched you finally finish the now cold slice of pizza. He would hate to see that beautiful smile disappear.
#modern warfare fanfiction#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x doctor#simon riley x reader#cod fanfic#simon ghost riley x medic#cod mw soap#fan fic ideas#angst#modern warfare ghost#x oc#ghost x oc#simon ghost riley x oc#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x original character#modern warfare fluff#cod fluff#cod mw2
58 notes
·
View notes
Note
I have seen your posts about Draupadi, and that is why i think only you will be able to save me from the inner turmoil within me.
Today morning, i was talking to my elder sis abt MB, and she told me that the Draupadi liked Karn at first, Krishn manipulated her into liking Arjuna. Then only Draupadi called him Sut-Putra and did not allow him to participate in the Swayamvara.
I was like "WTF?!?!"
Then i proceeded to correct her and say that:
1. There is no such thing written in Ved Vyas MB, Draupadi did not like Karn. Of course, why would she even?
2. Karn himself lost the Swayamvara as he failed to string the bow by a hairs breadth.
3. Krishn manipulating Draupadi? Why would he lol?
She told me no, this did not happen and argued with me saying that there is an entire dance piece in Bharatnatyam for this episode. Nice arguement👌.
Then she proceeded on to tell me on that Draupadi said "Andhasuya Putra Andha" to Duryodhan when he fell in the pool in Indraprastha and took away his weapons. That is why Duryodhan was angry and attempted to disrobe her later on.
I attempted to correct her again. I said Draupadi did not say a thing as she was not even present in the situation. I referred to the VV MB again. She said that no, Draupadi said that and insulted him and Dhritarashtra.
The most outrageous thing she told me:
"No, Draupadi was a very prideful, egoistic and an angry lady, and the humiliation she faced was partially her fault. That is why everyone went silent in Dyut Sabha. It is because everybody knew it was the fault of her anger and the result for insulting Duryodhan and Karn. Even after facing such humiliation, she did not 'tone down' and still demanded for Dushasan's chest blood to be washed down her hair."
I was super angry and I did not say anything. It sounded like almost she was justifying the Kauravas. And:
1. She did not ask for Dushasan's chest blood to be washed down her hair. It was not, i repeat, NOT mentioned in the scriptures.
2. Why would she have to be toned down? If i was in her place, i would have too wished for my assaulter's blood and death and his participant family's death, if not, something even worse. Hell, Draupadi did not even want his blood in the og Mahabharat.
Then she told me to read the actual sanskrit mb and learn from the verses in it and not learn from the serials. Honey, you need to fucking read it and not learn from bitchy translations. I did not argue further with her as i dont like to argue with ignorant bitches. Like ma'am, if YOU had read the oRiGinAL Mb you would have been clear abt the fact that the bloody hair washing thing was absolutely NOT written there and it was mainly popularised by the tribal performance version of Mb. And the rest of the things, let's leave that out.
Okay, first of all, Hi!!!
It seems that your sister is a huge Karna fan. I personally cite BORI CE as my source, and it seems as if your sister is the one who is giving sources from serials.
Now, who is Krishna? Krishna is a very respected god, the 8th avatar of Vishnu, he is not a MAN. He is a GOD, and should be treated as such. He is not a manipulator. Many Karna fans tend to forget that their dearest Karna is a mere human, practically puny in front of Krishna.
While I will not delve into Draupadi's incarnation stories, since those are very complicated, I will like to state that she is one of the Panchkanya, the 5 most holy and pious women from the Ramayana and Mahabharata. The other members are Ahilya, Sita, Mandodari and Tara, so I do not think that Draupadi is an egoistic or arrogant person, even if all serials show her having these qualities to some degree.
I did not understand what you meant to actually ask, but still-
Draupadi did not like Karna, yes, though her feelings towards him are not mentioned. He clearly hates her, after all, he called her a harlot in front of so many people.
Why was the whole court silent? Maybe because they are spineless men, who find their own dharma of obeying the king more important than saving a woman. Still, many men did raise their voices against the event trying to prevent, which didn't help ofc. Even Dhritarashtra didn't like the disrobing part much, but he was not going to stop his son.
The Dushasana's blood thing did not happen, but I hope it had happened in real, since Draupadi or any other woman in her place had the right to ask for the killing of the man who tried to strip her naked in front of a whole court.
Duryodhan felt insulted as he had fallen into the pond, and the PANDAVAS had laughed (Which is a very normal cousin thing. They were the ones who had pulled him out of the pond.) Plus Duryodhan had felt very, very jealous of the Pandavas' wealth, hence the plot to get their kingdom was formed.
Now, even if Draupadi had insulted and rejected Karna and Duryodhan, it does not give them the right to sexually assault a woman. How are they any different from the acid-attackers and rapists of today, who deliberately hurt the women who reject/insult them because their ego is too fragile??
My final stand on this matter is that a) I will blindly support Krishna's cause, since he is GOD, and b) Whatever happened with Draupadi was WRONG, and she was faultless. People should stop bringing the arguments regarding her behavior to defend Karna and Duryodhana's actions. Admit it, they are horrible people, and even YOU wouldn't like them if you met them irl.
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Reasons why diff slashers are out there doing ~All That~
Michael Myers:
He’s got something stuck in his teeth and no matter wtf he does he cant get it. Someone take peepaw to the dentist please. He’s got an inner thigh rash from them nasty ass coveralls and probably needs some aveeno.
Honestly please wash those or get him new ones because the reason he sits up the way he does is because the fabric doesnt crease any more so he just has to very straight leggedly stand up every time hes knocked down.
Billy Loomis:
He’s abstained from jerking off for too many months, the anti nut mindset has rewritten his brain chemistry and now all he can do is ~mansplain manipulate manslaughter~ dude’s backed up so bad he can see shrimp colors.
Bo Sinclair:
The entire events of the movie happen because he was staring at himself in the bathroom mirror like a bird flirting with his own reflection. He slipped on the tile and gave himself a REALLY bad concussion. He can see sounds and taste lights. He wears a baseball hat at night and leaves his keys in the ignition, if he takes off the hat all the blood swelling in his brain is dispersed way too fast and he’ll sputter out like a de-inflating balloon.
Vincent Sinclair:
He listened to evanescence one time.
Billy Lenz:
Dude has straight up rabies. And like some weird bacterial disease that you can get from being bitten by a bat. Its actually a medical anomaly that he’s on two feet at all? Yknow that post that says that like 60% of bacteria found on NYC subways has no known origin? Basically Billy Lenz is the canadian equivalent of that.
Jason Voohees:
He’s actually a meat puppet for thousands of single celled organisms found in the lake. Imagine if your spore creation gained sentience and then it evolved itself into a giant buff guy, like ur spore creation would immediately go on a rampage duh. Dude is a macro-biome habitat of millions of critters all playing QWOP with his arms and legs.
Brahms Heelshire:
His mother was really into those baby mozart and baby einstein VHS tapes. Dude’s been weird since the WOMB. He’s also got a critical vitamin D deficiency and is likely anemic. No, he wont eat his spinach to help with the iron issue. But he will hide it in the walls and then huff and whine that something smells funny and that you should maybe go clean it up. Give him a flinstone vitamin gummy pls.
Alternatively: He’s like that because he’s bri-ish, you eat enough mushy peas in your lifetime and this bullshit just sorta becomes you. Sure, whatever! Eat beans on toast, put on a mask, live in the walls!
Any of the texas chainsaws:
Tapeworm. Why? Because its funny. Hungry ass tapeworm infested ass cannibals. Gotta eat up to appease ur worm!
OG big boy is really into that QVC old lady channel and every time the women are talking about lipsticks or lotions or whatever he’s seething in jealousy. Therefore he must kill.
#slasher fandom#this is stupid#and im laughing at my own jokes#Brahms Heelshire#The Boy#Scream#Ghost Face#Billy Loomis#House of Wax#Bo Sinclair#Vincent Sinclair#michael myers#TCM#jason voorhees#Im tagging all their names so if u follow the tag ur forced to hawhaw at my unfunny jokes#x reader#slashers#ur welcome for this :)#black christmas#Billy Lenz
285 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gay wrongs tournament, round 2.5 of the major bracket
Propaganda:
For Eddie Brock and Venom:
I'm pretty sure its Canon in the comics and like, Canon adjacent in the 2nd movie??? Idk I just watched the first one sooo, anyways, this isn't propaganda i just couldn't remember if you said they needed to be Canon so I put what I rembered about that here, idk I'm proboboly just gonna send the propaganda in the ask box at a later date
They eat people:) venom is an alien symbiote and Eddie is the host and they have melded together into one being. They care for and protect each other and are so intimately intwined they are only ever separated by force. Also they’re both absolute disasters and they periodically bite and eat the heads off their enemies.
They eat people <3
For Will and Hannibal:
Ive previously only heard the term "murder husbands" refer to hannigram so it feels flitting. The whole series culminated with a murder they did together bathing in blood.
The show and ship that coined murder husbands. It’s in the text in s3 from a journalist side character. They do Many murders either together or as a message to each other. Usually this involves turning the dead body into an art piece. The show ends with them killing a guy together in a slo mo scene backed by porno music.
They're both batshit and manipulative.
ALRIGHT so they're not canonically together but it is HEAVILY implied and they have some sort of fucked up psychosexual obsession with each other. in the later parts of the show they start committing murder and cannibalism together and they're soooo unhinged but it's awesome
kill people for each other. maim each other. kill people together. most batshit insane metaphors. send each other to jail. ruin everyone’s lives. someone can probably say this better than me but these gay people are insane
Literally THE murder husbands. They kill for each other. They've tried to kill each other. They're canon in all but name, like the homoeroticism between these two is the driving force of the show.
one time hannibal folded a guy into an origami human heart
They are in love and they kill and eat people. They are called Murder Husbands in canon.
The original murder husbands (literally, that's not just their ship name, they get called that in canon)
The show begins with Will working for the FBI and trying to catch Hannibal, but because Hannibal is so intrigued by the way Will is able to see the world and the motives behind the killings so easily, it becomes a game of Hannibal isolating Will even more from the people around and seducing him to try and kill. By the time Will starts embracing the side of him that Hannibal sees, he starts oulling back and trying to distance himself so that when the time comes for Will to fully embrace himself and Hannibal, no one really suspects what they have planned.
hannibal literally does murder as courtship and it works bc will is also a fucked up little guy
I'm actually quite offended they aren't included by default (joke). They are THE murder husbands!!!!!! (mod note: they should have been, but I wanted to see how many submissions they'd get. They got 19, making them a little more than 6% of total submission count).
do i have to say it. they literally get called murder husbands IN THE SHOW
There are 3201 works for Hannibal on ao3 tagged Murder Husbands. They are the ogs, they are the pioneers we owe it all to them.
THEE murder couple. You know it. I know it. They commit crimes at each other as courting and then commit crimes together and then fall off a cliff to wash up somewhere and live on to serve cunt. Get referred to as 'murder husbands' in canon. What more do you need
Hannigram were literally called Murder Husbands in canon, they are the og, they are THE blueprint. They were gay as hell and comitted so much murder so many crimes. THEY RAN OFF TO EUROPE TOGETHER.
#gay wrongs tournament round 2#venom#hannibal nbc#hannibal#symbrock#hanningram#eddie brock#venom symbiote#hannibal lecter#will graham
402 notes
·
View notes
Text
In a Different Light: Scene One
Time for some actors to sleuth it up :) Here's the first part to the very long Sleuth Jesters!actor AU. Thank you to @naffeclipse for creating the wonderful og series that inspired this and for letting me play with these characters as always 💜 AO3 link has been included in case of reader preference because of the word count, but the full fic will also be below.
Also, I'm aware that in a real world scenario, the cast would not be using their actual names in film. Thankfully, this is not the real world, so for the sake of the story, please suspend your disbelief and imagine that it is completely acceptable and normal for all actors to not use different names unless they choose to lol
Hope you all enjoy!
Rating: T
Word Count: ~20,500 (yes, you read that correctly)
Content Warnings: Mildly suggestive dialogue
Summary: “You’ve caught me. The dastardly plan I’ve been secretly concocting this whole time is just a trap to put you to work. But I hear there’s a reward for those who lend a helping hand.”
You perk up.
“A reward?”
The dark rings in his optics slide over to you sidelong, smug at your interest.
“You’ll see,” he purrs.
~~~
“So let me get this straight. You’re actually afraid of children?” you ask around a mouthful of sandwich one early December afternoon between shoots.
The lunch rush is always chaotic and a whirlwind, but you’ve managed to snag a table with Sun and Moon to take a breather outside in the food tent, regardless of the cold. You’re scarfing down your meal, an unhealthy habit you’ve picked up in your career, but luckily, your friends don’t mind it too much. Moon does nudge your water bottle closer to you in a very unsubtle hint. You accept it with a roll of your eyes but obediently pause in your munching to take a sip and wash down the bite of grilled chicken and focaccia.
Sun scoffs and points a finger at you.
“Okay, first of all, rude. Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Another finger is held up. “And second of all, I wouldn’t say that—”
“Terrified would be a better word,” Moon chimes in, earning an unamused glare from his brother. He grins back unrepentantly. “Sun’s always been a little twitchy around the ankle biters.”
“That’s just not at all true!”
You hide your own grin when you pick back up your sandwich. It does little to conceal the sound of your stifled tittering or the slight shake of your shoulders. The exasperation on Sun’s faceplate is enough to have you nearly choking on your next bite.
“I’m just not made for children, that’s all!” he adamantly protests, gesticulating with his arms and splaying them wide. “It’s not that I don’t like them. But sometimes when I look at a child, they just start crying. For no reason! I don’t know how I’m supposed to handle that, and I doubt you do either. Did you see how the producer’s little girl reacted when she saw me the other day?”
“Sun, you were covered in fake blood from the take we’d just finished.” Moon shakes his head, chuckling. “She wasn’t scared of you.”
“Hmph. Could’ve fooled me! Regardless, I’m relieved that they’ve decided to not film any scenes of us as,” Sun shudders, “daycare attendants.”
You tsk and lift a brow. Sun narrows his sights on you, and you swallow your food this time before speaking.
“Don’t rule it out just yet. The director might choose to include some backstory after all.”
His yellow finger is menacingly jabbed your way again in warning.
“It wasn’t in the script, so I refuse to hear out any such nonsense. The point still stands that I am not and never have been qualified to be a caretaker and thus should never be put in charge of any children.”
Considering Sun’s track record of handling kids, you can’t quite fault him for thinking that, but you’re not so ready to agree either. You’ve seen his interactions with Gregory, and he’s been just fine. Before you can say as such, someone else joins the conversation.
“I’ll drink to that,” the new voice smoothly cuts in, and all three of you turn.
Within the split second that it takes for your brain to register what you’re seeing, your hand flies to your mouth to stop the sound that wants to tumble out. Sun and Moon, however, have no qualms bursting into bright peals of laughter.
“Eclipse,” you gasp behind your fingers, fighting back the strong urge to join the hooligans howling next to you, “what happened to your clothes?”
Said animatronic stands at the end of your table with a grimace, adorned in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants that are both unquestionably three sizes too small. You lean back to peer under the table and get a full view, and sure enough, his pants barely reach mid-calf, made all the more comical by the sandals on his feet and the socks he’s pulled up to cover everything else. The sleeves of his hoodie barely extend past his elbows, and it’s more like a crop top than anything else. Were it not for how tightly the poor fabric was constricted across his broad frame, the loungewear would appear comfortable. In fact, you recognize it as the brand he and occasionally his brothers prefer to wear outside of shoots.
The absurdly tall animatronic heaves a deep, annoyed sigh.
“It would seem that someone—though I’m certain it couldn’t possibly be anyone at this table—snuck into my trailer while I was showering and switched out all of my clothes for these much smaller sizes. It’s strange, but they almost seem like they’d fit Sunny and Moonie perfectly. Isn’t that odd?”
Sun somehow manages to snort despite not even having a nose. His whistle-like snickering is not at all subdued, but he does attempt to fight through it to scrape together a response.
“Yes, how very odd. Can’t imagine who’d pull such a terrible prank.”
“You look like you were shoved inside of a dryer,” Moon cackles.
“Be nice!” You tut and playfully swat his arm but lose the war in reeling back your own chuckling. “He clearly just rolled out of bed.”
Unimpressed by the table’s amusement at his expense, Eclipse glowers with a deadpan expression. He tries to cross his arms but swiftly realizes he can’t when the fabric strains at the slightest pull and gives a heinous ripping sound in response. His arms drop back uselessly at his sides as he sighs with defeat etched onto his faceplate, sending Sun, Moon, and now you into another side-splitting round of laughter.
“I want my clothes back,” the metallic storm cloud snarls.
“Personally, I think you should act in the next scene like this,” you remark as soon as you can catch your breath. There might be tears in your eyes. “What are we filming tonight again? The car stunt?”
“Oh, that’ll be perfect,” Sun agrees, optics forming white crescents with his cheeky grin. “What’s more menacing than an animatronic leaning out of a car window during a high-speed chase in his pajamas?”
“Do not assume that I am above strangling all of you,” Eclipse growls.
Moon nods and offers a slow, sarcastic clap.
“Perfect, just like that. You’ve already got the brooding down beautifully.”
Even as you laugh and shake your head, you reach over and pat Eclipse’s arm sympathetically.
“There, there. I’m sure if we go raid their trailers now, we can find your missing clothes. Let’s go get you out of those pants and hoodie.”
In a flash, Eclipse’s grimace transitions into a small but ruthlessly vicious smile. His sun rays create a draft from how fast they spin just as you realize your mistake.
“Oh?” he purrs. “Are you offering to help?”
You sigh, trying to ignore the unwanted warmth that tries to fill your cheeks as you get to your feet.
“Easy there, buddy. Save practicing your mob boss lines for later.”
“Who’s practicing?” His smirk is far too cocky for someone dressed in socks and sandals, so you just focus on picking up the trash from your lunch and tossing it in the nearby garbage can.
“What do you two have on your schedule after lunch?” you ask the other celestial brothers.
Moon turns so that he can see you.
“Presumably, we’ll be back to shooting the precinct scene with Cafaro. So that’ll take up most of the day.”
“Okay, then I’ll probably see you boys around six. And after we’re done with the car takes, maybe we could leave together?”
Sun chuckles, resting the bottom of his faceplate on the palm of his hand.
“Planning another sleepover?”
You hum and artfully brush a hand through your ponytail, your costume’s bells ringing.
“I just like to be committed to my craft. I’m stepping into character so that I’ll be extra prepared for my role tomorrow.”
“And you wonder why our coworkers spread scurrilous rumors about us,” Eclipse sighs. Nonetheless, his smile is warm. “I’ll make sure to cook something tasty just for you. What type of cuisine would you like? Thai? Indian? Italian?”
Your mouth almost salivates just at the offer alone, well-acquainted with the animatronic’s cooking. You nod eagerly.
“Yes to all of the above.”
Eclipse’s laugh is just as pleasant as his grin. You gleefully accept his large arm around your shoulders as he steers you away to the trailers outside, though it’s more so a graze of his fingers along your shoulder blade since he’s so damn tall. Glancing back, you wave to Sun and Moon, beaming at the returned gestures from them both.
Your friendship with the three brothers began mere months ago at the start of filming, and you would be amazed at how quickly it had snowballed from there were it not for how well the four of you had clicked from the beginning. Sun, Moon, and Eclipse are just fun to be around, and you love spending as much time as you can with all of them, even off sets. It started out as taking your lunch to their trailers, which led to hanging out after work hours and then ultimately spending the night at each other’s homes. You live farther away from the filming location than the brothers do, though, so more often than not, you find yourself sleeping in their guest bedroom.
As a result, you should have expected the rumors. But that doesn’t stop the whispers at your back from leaving you uneasy and feeling a bit guilty at how it’s reflected onto your new friends. The brothers have insisted that they don’t mind, sometimes even playing and feeding into those rumors just to tease back your coworkers while getting some of the jokes’ attention off of you and onto them instead. But at the end of the day, you know that your group of friends is just that.
Just friends.
Mind you, you’re all very close. Friends let you fall asleep on them and hold you so you won’t stir, right? Granted, none of your other friends have ever been that close to you, but you’ll just chalk it up to seeing the celestial animatronics almost every day, all day long. You were bound to get close to them.
Of the three, the one you actually see the least is Eclipse. That’s due to his side gig—more of a hobby than anything. On Tuesday and Thursday mornings, he teaches an acting class at the city’s university. It’s why you didn’t see him earlier today, and he often catches a quick shower here at the studio zone after his class rather than driving home. You’re dying to sneak into one of his classes someday, but he’s threatened that if you do decide to sit in, he’ll make sure to call you to the front to act out at least one demonstration.
You have no shyness about your acting ability, of course, but having to do so first thing in the morning when you’d much rather have a reprieve from it doesn’t sound like your idea of a fun time. And knowing Eclipse, he’d find some way to tease you about it too. He might be the polar opposite to the villainous role he stars in, but there is no doubt that that mischievous-bordering-on-malicious streak still runs deep in his wires. He loves getting the upper hand whenever he can, and you honestly can’t tell if he got that from Sun and Moon or if it’s been written into his code from the start.
Maybe having younger siblings just does that to a person. Today’s case of the missing clothes is by no means the first prank that’s been pulled.
You don’t realize how lost in thought you are until Eclipse’s voice pulls you from it with a jolt.
“I suspect my younger brothers have been up to no good in all that time they’ve been spending with you.”
You aim a sharp smile up at him.
“Jealous?”
Eclipse looks at you. His teeth seem especially pointed in this light.
“Of course. Who wouldn’t be in their position?”
At that, you snort.
“They do have their own fan club, or so I’ve seen on social media.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed the hub of enthusiasm surrounding them. But I meant that anyone would be jealous of those who get to spend time with you, my dear.”
You trip over something—yourself, maybe—and Eclipse helpfully rights you back on your feet. A cough is hastily suppressed in your fist.
“That’s… You know what I’ve told you about calling me that.”
“Hmm?” Eclipse keeps his focus on the rows of trailers he guides you towards, but he doesn’t need to be facing you for you to know he’s entertained. His fingertips nimbly rub your upper back in distracting circles. “You mean the very same endearment I’ve heard my brothers calling you, in addition to all of the other pet names? I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about. Any possible mention of it has been scrapped from my memory banks.”
You squint, suspicious.
“How very convenient.”
“I’d say so. Unlike this unsightly prank my brothers have pulled on me.” He sighs. “At least there’s one silver lining.”
He reaches Moon’s trailer first with you in tow. Eclipse steps onto the stairs leading up to it, his hand settling on the door handle, and you pause to put your hands on your hips, not sure if he’s setting you up for a punchline. It wouldn’t be the first time nor the last.
“And that is?”
Elongated rays slowly spin like a gentle wave, catching the afternoon sun and casting a prismatic reflection of color across the white trailer. Eclipse’s head tilts just enough to cast a sly, low-lidded glance over his shoulder. The sun doesn’t brighten the burnt shadow of his faceplate.
“It’s now my turn to spend time alone with you.”
He throws open the door, stepping into the trailer, and you’re thankful his back is to you as you’re not so sure your surprise is invisible on your face. A bit stunned, you stumble inside after him. As soon as the door slams shut behind you, the small interior becomes significantly tighter with the towering frame of Eclipse right next to you.
“Now.” He rubs his hands together, ringed pupils scanning the room. “Let's see what stolen goods my brothers have got in their closets.”
~~~
“Alright, that’s a wrap!”
With those shouted words, the formerly quiet room is bustling with life and activity, and you begin to stir from your cozy nest. You rub your cheek against soft cotton, and the arms curled around you loosen as you stretch out your legs with a groan. A hand cards through your hair, silicone and metal sinking past your strands to gently ghost along the back of your neck. It’s just what you need to sink bonelessly back into a ball and rest your head on the other’s shoulder.
Sun, whose lap you’re currently invading, doesn’t give you the chance to fall right back into blissful sleep. His voice sounds like it comes from underwater.
“Come on, precious. It’s time to go home.”
You mumble something that neither he nor you really catch, but Sun must understand it well enough because you think he chuckles.
He continues to prod you, mentioning something about “Clip” and “promise” and “food,” the latter of which you aren’t coherent enough to really understand the context behind since your mind is sluggishly caught in a half-awake state, but your stomach considers it a tempting offer anyways since it growls unpleasantly. As much as it protests its emptiness, you’re just so comfortable resting like this against Sun, and sleep is not too far of a leap away. If you could just let your weary eyes rest for a few more minutes…
You tilt your head into the crook of Sun’s neck, mindful of his shrunken rays, and hear his amused sigh. Someone calls your name, someone who’s not Sun, but you’re already too busy tipping into the darkness to know who it is.
Sleep doesn’t fully creep upon you. There’s quiet conversation happening directly over your head, and if you tried to listen, you’d be able to make out the words. But you’re caught up in your not-quite-sleep, and Sun is cradling you like a baby. You’ve decided his lap is better than any bed and his costume’s coat is better than any blanket. All you need is a kiss on the forehead to wish you sweet dreams, and you’ll be set.
But whoever is chatting with Sun must convince him that your position isn’t actually heaven-sent after all. You utter a rather unhappy noise when Sun jostles you as he stands. Mercifully, he keeps his arms tucked around you so you don’t have to move.
“Adorable. They’re completely tuckered out.”
You recognize the gravelly voice of Moon and debate opening your eyes. But then Sun starts walking, and really, his smooth gait has no business being this soothing. You feel like you’re being gently rocked, coaxed into a heavier warmth that tugs you down. It’s almost enough to ward off the sudden, unexpected cold snap that bristles at your bare cheeks and nose when he carries you outside. You whine plaintively at the offense, and you think you feel a light tap on the top of your skull.
“Almost there,” Sun reassures.
You don’t particularly care where “there” is as long as it’s not out in the cold. A shiver ripples through you, which prompts Sun to tuck his coat tighter around your limbs as much as he can. Even as disgruntled as you are, you can appreciate how his pace quickens. Soon enough, he pauses, the sound of a door squeaks open, and you are ushered into a new warm interior.
The light washing over you is a dull amber and just bright enough that you finally have to admit defeat and stir.
After a few slow blinks, you realize that Sun has brought you to your trailer. Further away, Moon rifles through your wardrobe. Not an inherently strange thing for him to do, but you doubt he’d find anything of value in there. You sincerely hope you aren’t about to experience a secondhand version of the prank they pulled on Eclipse.
Sun brings you over to a lofty chair that’s lined with pillows. As soon as he attempts to put you down, you latch onto his shirt with a firmly unhappy groan, prompting a chortle from your personal carrier.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the extra loving, doll, but you need to let go if we’re going to get you home.”
“Says who?” you mumble into his shirt collar.
You’re not letting him get away that easily. You’ve made your bed, and now you’re not leaving him.
Maybe it’s your exhaustion, maybe it’s how Sun is cradling you, maybe it’s something else. But one moment you’re sleepily clinging onto him and the next, your brain is conjuring a meaningless daydream out of your control.
Some small, throwaway thought, there and gone in a blink, depicts an image of you and Sun lying in bed together, sheets loosely draped over your waists and sleepwear slightly ridden up. You’re wrapped in each other’s arms, so close that there’s little room left to keep you from guessing. Sun’s gaze is heavily-lidded, but there’s no question of where it falls when your lips are slightly parted from uneven breaths.
It’s over as fast as it came. Slammed right back into the present, you stagger at the image that is now gone. You’re not at all sure of where that came from, but it’s certainly enough to pop your eyes open wide and lock every inch of you in place. Both of your hands cinch Sun’s shirt tight in their grasp. A hot flush overcomes your face, and pressed this close to him, you’re able to hear his very muffled sound of confusion at your stiffness.
You’ve kissed Sun before. Actually, it’s become quite the running joke that you’ve made your rounds with all of the celestial brothers. But that’s different because you’ve always been acting during those kisses. The whole chance of intimacy gets thrown out the window when there’s dozens of people watching and film crews demanding slight repositioning for a better lighting angle and rehearsed lines being your only swapped dialogue with whomever you’re smooching. Nothing about it is personal, so it’s never quite held any meaning. Just business, as usual, with maybe an occasional flash of embarrassment or… something.
But the thought in your head wasn’t related to that at all. You’d know because the bed you’d imagined, regardless of how brief it’d appeared, was Sun’s. As in his bed in his bedroom in his home.
Did anyone ever install a freezer in your trailer? You sure would love to stick your head in one right about now.
“Honeydew, are you feeling alright? You’re looking a little flushed.”
Sun’s warm palm rests atop your equally warm forehead. While endearing, his worry for your sake just makes you even more flustered. It sets you to squirming in his arms, but now that you’ve unintentionally unleashed the unlicensed doctor in Sun, he’s not so eager to put you down. His one arm holding you up tightens just enough to make sure you don’t accidentally slip and fall the decent distance to the floor. That doesn’t mean you don’t try your best though to do just that.
“Hmm, no fever, at least not one I can read from your skin.” His frown deepens. “Open your mouth and lift up your tongue.”
And there’s your cue to draw the line and jump ship.
“Sun, I am not letting you put your fingers in my mouth to take my temperature.”
“But you might be sick!” he exclaims.
You bat away the hand that’s too close to your lips for your liking. That garners an exasperated tut from the animatronic, but you are determined to die on this hill. Otherwise, you know you’ll die from supreme humiliation if Sun jams his bulky metal joints in your mouth.
“I’m not sick. And even if I was, shoving your unsanitary fist under my tongue won’t do my health any wonders.”
“I wouldn’t put my whole fist in there,” Sun says dryly, but he’s got a suspicious gleam that suggests he’s sincerely contemplating it. “It wouldn’t fit.”
“Wow. So glad to know that’s the reason why.”
Sun starts to say something, but he’s abruptly cut off by a pair of pants. A shirt and hoodie then follow, all three articles of clothing dangling down his faceplate from where they’re caught on his sun rays.
“Found something for you to change into,” Moon says, coming into view. He doesn’t spare his brother’s grumbling any mind and quirks a brow at you. “Where are your socks and underwear?”
It’s such a bizarre question coming out of left field, you can’t help but be enthralled at its absurdity.
“Sorry, my what now? Why do you need to know that?”
Moon’s head tilts. One side then the other.
“Well, what else am I going to wear?”
“Oh, you little— C’mere!”
His reedy snickering flutters while he hastily dodges out of reach of your lunge, so you snatch your pants from where Sun’s prying them off his head and throw them in Moon’s general direction. You can tell from the faint thud that you miss, but you’ll get him back later.
“I’d say that’s far from appropriate,” Sun groans as he drops the rest of your clothes on the chair behind you, “but Moon lost all sense of propriety years ago. I’m afraid you’ll have to accept my apology on his behalf.”
You hold onto Sun’s arms as he dips down low to set you on your feet.
“Pfft, you didn’t even apo—”
“Great! Glad that’s settled.” Sun pats you on the head, twists free of your grip, and dances out of range. Baffled, you watch him hook an arm around Moon’s scrawny metal neck—his brother releasing a staticky squawk of surprise—and drag him towards the door of the trailer despite his brother’s aggravated attempts to free himself. Sun acts like the fisted blows to his chest are little more than gentle taps. “We’re gonna run over to our trailer to get changed too and then meet you back outside when you’re ready. Don’t forget a bag of toiletries this time, m’kay? I only have so much spare toothpaste to share, you know.”
He all but throws his brother out the door, and you hardly manage to shake your extreme puzzlement in time to catch up. Moon is snarling all sorts of death threats and other things one would expect to hear from their sibling. You pay that no mind as you scramble to grab Sun’s elbow before he can disappear into the night. The frosty winter wind nips at your toes and fingers, consuming the precious warmth of the trailer.
“Wait, wait, wait!”
Sun pauses at your behest and turns to you with a sheepish expression. He tries to cover it up with one of his signature smiles, but it’s rapidly turning crooked. You’ll blame part of that on the near-rabid lunar animatronic hissing Sun’s name in a sinister rattle befitting of a horror movie.
One of Sun’s palms slams into the sneering face of his brother like he’s warding off an omen. He continues to aim that full-throttled charm at you at a thousand watts.
“Waiting!” he exclaims, bright and chipper.
“What am I getting changed for again?” you say, a bit less frantic now that Sun isn’t bolting out the door.
Yellow rays turn in a slow circle like some kind of buffering wheel. The white glow of his optics is overshadowed by the deep blue inside them, but the lack of comprehension is crystal clear. Sun takes a long second to process your question while you stand there, just as perplexed.
Finally, he blinks, and his smile softens.
“You can’t quite have a sleepover in work clothes now, can you?”
A sleepover.
It’s your turn to blink right back at him, and maybe the lack of sleep has really started to get to you because you don’t immediately understand what he’s saying. There’s just empty static in your brain right now. Maybe you need that dinner more than you realize.
Oh! The dinner!
You press a hand to the bridge of your nose and rub hard as it clicks. Right, of course. Eclipse promised to cook for you, and you kind of invited yourself over to spend the night, and the brothers gladly accepted. Was that just several hours ago? You feel like you’ve spent an eternity on set.
A light tug on your sleeve brings your hand down. Sun pinches the fabric between two fingers with an amused regard.
“And I can’t imagine the costume design team would appreciate you running off the premises with your star outfit. Granted, they have doubles and probably even triples of everything, but you want to get out of those clothes, yes?”
Your shoulders sag, and Sun lets go of your sleeve.
“I hadn’t even noticed, to be honest.”
“We can tell!” His jovial words do nothing other than seal your face into a flat expression. Sun acts like he doesn’t notice at all. “That’s why you’ve got two prime escorts to help you get your bearings straight. We’re just making sure you get everything you need before heading home.”
You very carefully don’t point out that he’s inadvertently referred to his home as yours. It was probably just a mistake.
Still, it does make your lips tilt up a smidge.
“Just two escorts?”
In the midst of your talk, Moon manages to grouchily calm down and slap his brother’s hand off of his face. Sun’s head swivels, and you can tell there’s a whole discussion being conveyed in just the shared glaring between the two. Moon endures it for all of three seconds before fixing his gaze—less homicidal—on you.
“Clip got the okay to leave early quite some time ago,” he grunts. “He wanted to get started on making dinner.”
In a flash, you feel guilty.
“Oh, I hadn’t realized. He doesn’t need to do that, really! I don’t want him to have to do any extra work just for me. Actually, I’d be fine with just some fast food.”
“Don’t tell him that.” Moon’s thin smile is just visible in the low amber light. “He’ll pitch a fit. You know he likes cooking for you.”
“And,” Sun adds, “we’d be terrible hosts if we let you fill up on food with no personality to it. You can’t beat a home-cooked meal.”
You purse your lips and debate on whether to stay silent. Sun would normally be right about that, but you know he’s only thinking of Eclipse’s cooking. There is a reason you dodge any and all offers for Sun to make you a meal. Talented as the solar animatronic is at many things, being in the kitchen has remained out of his realm of expertise. You’ve got a laundry list of times that you’ve been served blackened, crispy, or unrecognizable food from Sun’s attempts to fill up your belly. He’s got a penchant for putting a stop to your hunger, but not in the way he or you would like.
You make the mistake of making eye contact with Moon, and his knowing, shit-eating grin crawling out of the woodwork presses the gas pedal of your anti-filter to the floor.
“I mean… that depends on the personality being put into it. And whether said cook has a penchant for setting more fires than wanted or needed. And whether the food is actually edible in the end.”
Sun doesn’t turn all the way, but his faceplate tilts just enough that you get treated to a very strong dose of side-eyeing. You didn’t even know his eyes could narrow that much, but you get the message loud and clear.
Huh. Maybe you don’t need to be related to the celestial animatronic brothers in order to share in their telepathic abilities. Or maybe it’s just a result of spending so much time with them.
You clear your throat.
“Anyways, guess I’ll get changed. For the sleepover you definitely still want me to attend. Just in case you forgot.”
Your hands are lightly coaxing Sun out the door. He doesn’t so much as waver.
“You know,” he starts in a way that sounds like the beginning of a villainous monologue, “you’d think that someone who talks so much game wouldn’t be just as terrible at—”
Moon snags Sun’s arm and yanks him hard. Sun stumbles only a few steps, but it’s all the space you need to be able to close your door. Moon winks at you.
“Better pack that extra toothpaste.”
“Trust me,” you laugh, “I know when Sun’s thrown the prank gauntlet.”
“Oh,” hollers the robotic rebuttal over Moon’s shoulder, “you won’t just be getting pranks from me, daffodil! I’m—”
You slam the door shut on what would likely be a very long rant from Sun. The lock slides into place just for good measure, but you know neither of those two would really attempt to barge in on you like that. Your grin is impossible to hide, as is the flighty tittering that fills the room. Luckily, no one is around to witness it. You chuckle to yourself as you grab the clothes Moon picked out for you to get changed into, but with no one to distract you from your thoughts, it’s not long before your face ends up in your hands.
You muffle a short scream.
What was that thought you’d had earlier about you and Sun? Where on earth did it come from? Are you really just that tired, or are you just delusional? Did you hit your head that hard during filming today?
Yes, that’s probably it. You bumped your head, and that rattled your brain, which caused the unwarranted burst of imagination to manifest tonight. Nothing unusual about that, right? And your thoughts just got confused because Sun was the one holding you, Sun was the one caring for you, and for a moment you’d thought…
Thought what, exactly?
That you liked him in a different way? That he liked you… as more than a friend?
What a silly, ridiculous notion. Preposterous, even. You can’t be entertaining such thoughts. It’s far from reality.
As you shed your work clothes, you struggle to swallow. Because you know different. You know that you can tell yourself that you’re just tired or that you just bumped your head, but none of that will magically apply to how often you’ve thought about the brothers as more than friends. Nothing will be able to explain the pain in your chest that’s crept up more and more most nights when you’re alone in your home.
Those kinds of thoughts usually reserve themselves for when you’re in private. Tonight was a fluke. It has to be, and that’s what you firmly tell your guilty conscience. It’s not an issue, so don’t worry about it.
Determined not to lose any more time fretting over it, you forcefully tug on your other clothes.
Once you’re dressed—an outfit that is the definition of comfortable—you fold your white blouse and dark pants then assess yourself in the bathroom mirror. Your hair is still done up in a ponytail from earlier, so with extreme caution, you untie the ribbon and catch the bells before they can slip onto the floor. It would be a shame to see anything happen to them, and though you know there are plenty of spares set aside just for you since it’s a vital part of your costume, you hate to think of damaging the ribbon and bells at all. You love the look and feel of them. But even as you set them atop your folded clothes, you breathe out in relief as your scalp gets a break from the tight pressure of your hair being pulled back for hours.
It’s sure a mess now that it’s hanging down, but you don’t have the energy to bother messing with it now. Out of sight, out of mind is the best practice, you decide, so you pull up your hood and tuck your hair inside.
Next, you tackle the face full of makeup that is put on you every time for filming. You grab a wipe and get as much of it off as you can before reaching for another. You repeat this process a couple of more times and then rinse your face with lukewarm water for good measure. A quick press of a towel and a check in the mirror says that’s good enough.
Sun said to pack an overnight bag, which normally amounts to just the essentials for hygiene and clothes for tomorrow. You don’t feel like overthinking what to bring, much less thinking at all as exhaustion pulls down at your eyelids. In less than a minute, you stuff what you need in a bag, toothpaste included, and tug on a jacket to ward off some of the cold when you have to go back outside. Then you decide to stop moving for a bit and just catch your breath, so you slump into the chair Sun had tried depositing you in earlier and pull out your phone to scroll through your notifications.
Nothing noteworthy catches your eye, but you do smirk at a few posts you find under the hashtag of your series. The marketing team has done wonders in ramping up enthusiasm for this show, and the outpouring of theories and excitement has got you and everyone else in a nervous tizzy. You can only hope your performance meets the public’s expectations. If anything, the detectives and mafia boss will be the stars of the show, as is their right. Hopefully, their talent is what truly steals everyone’s attention. You want only the best for them.
A few minutes trickle by in your mindless scrolling, your brain too tired to respond to messages. You’ll save that aspect of your life for later when you’ve gotten some shuteye. At least with the holidays approaching, you’ll be able to catch up on some rest soon. Just have to push through a couple of more weeks, and then it’ll be break time.
When a cheery knock raps on your door, you put away your phone and push to your feet with a ragged groan and a few popping joints. Your bag and work clothes are snatched up in one hand while the other flips off the lights. After a final, quick check to make sure you didn’t forget anything, you head out the door.
Moon’s slouched against the neighboring trailer, arms crossed with the hood of his winter coat shadowing his faceplate. Sun seems like he hasn’t budged from right outside your doorstep, aside from his much more relaxed getup and the suits draped over his arm from both him and Moon. He’s tapping away on his phone, but both brothers look up at you when you step outside and lock the door. Sun whisks the bundle of clothes out from your arms to add to his pile while he pockets his phone.
“I’ll run these on over for you. Anything you need from there while I’m gone?”
You shake your head and shiver from the cold.
“No, but thanks, Sun. Actually, I don’t mind taking them over myself so you don’t have to.”
“Nonsense. Look at you! You’ve got a stronger pallor than a ghost and are on the verge of becoming one too if you remain out in the cold much longer.”
He ushers you over to Moon, who kindly lifts the edge of his long coat for you to scoot under. Moon tucks you in close, and though it doesn’t provide much warmth overall, it’s still miles better than your thin jacket.
Sun tosses a set of car keys that his brother catches one-handed. He wags a finger at Moon.
“Just to unlock and start it, okay? No eloping on joy rides until I get back.”
Moon watches with you as Sun heads off towards the costume design trailer, and then he peeks down at you pressed up against him like a chick under a hen’s wing.
“Do you think he’d really notice if we took a little five-minute trip?”
“With you behind the wheel? Absolutely, yes. It’s kind of hard to hide a fender bender.”
He scoffs at your smirk, and you both begin to head over to his and Sun’s car.
“Everyone’s always a critic until they’re the one driving. It’d take me at least ten minutes before I risked getting into a wreck.”
You sigh wistfully.
“Someday, I hope to possess the same kind of baseless confidence that you— Ow, hey!”
Metal knuckles mercilessly assault the top of your head in a furious noogie that’s dampened only by your hood. You yelp and squeal at Moon’s ruthless revenge, and he doesn’t let up until you’re sagging against his side and wheezing. Your chest is tight as you gulp down frigid air, but you embrace it all the same as Moon’s low voice joins yours in a gruff chuckle.
“Serves you right,” he taunts.
“Yeah, yeah,” you huff, trying to catch your breath. You can’t argue with him there.
Thankfully, you make it to the car without further tussling. You slide into the backseat with your bag, though Moon does offer for you to sit upfront—an offer you decline because you know how much room he and his brother need for their long legs. Moon proves to be on good behavior tonight because he takes the passenger seat rather than taking the car for a spin against his brother’s wishes. He slips the key into the ignition so that you can warm up, for which you gratefully press your freezing hands to the hot vents.
Sun doesn’t take long to return, but you and Moon grumble at the snap of cold air when he opens the driver’s side door. True to his nature, he ignores the complaining, well used to it at this point, and settles in.
“Music?” he directs at you, finger hovering over the radio.
“Sure,” you reply, breathing on your palms and rubbing them together. Maybe it’ll help you wake up so you’re perkier by the time you arrive at their home.
“Alrighty then, DJ Sun at your service!”
The songs rapidly bleed from one to the next as Sun drives home, the bass pounding with your heart and coaxing you into belting out lyrics right along with him. Moon doesn’t join your loud, occasionally off-tune singing, but you can see him smiling in the mirror and bobbing along to the beat, and that’s all the encouragement you need.
You end up in the middle of the backseat, arms propped up against Sun’s and Moon’s seats during your singing session in a way that’s not entirely legal. But Sun’s driving is something you fully trust, and despite how he furiously drums his fingers on the wheel and tilts his faceplate in your direction during a thunderous chorus that he absolutely nails in his melodic voice, he keeps his focus on his surroundings and maintains a safe speed. By the end of a round of songs, you’re breathless and brimming with joy that vibrates through your bones and makes you feel alive and far away from those nagging thoughts from earlier.
Yeah, you’re nowhere near tired now.
Sun pulls into the parking garage of their apartment, and within a few minutes of scurrying out of the cold and into the building, you’re greeted with a luscious, divine smell as soon as you cross the threshold of the brothers’ home.
Moon takes your bag while Sun takes your jacket, and they both urge you to head on over to the kitchen, from which you can hear slow jazz music playing.
Accustomed to but no less appreciative of their sweet hospitality, you brush off your hood and dutifully make your way to the source of the heavenly scent wafting through the rooms. At the corner of the kitchen, you pause and enjoy for a moment the sight of the busybody prepping something that will surely be as tasteful as it smells. Standing before the electric cooktop in the kitchen island, Eclipse stirs something that makes your mouth water. You can’t see it from here, but the fragrant air almost hooks you right on over to him. The only thing keeping you in place is your want to not disturb him in his cooking.
Steam billows around his hands and faceplate while he works. He’s got a pan on the stove behind him as well as a large one next to the pot he’s currently fixated on. The oven appears to be on as well, and you wonder what he’s making.
Your heart melts maybe just a little, the thoughtfulness threatening to render you to mush.
“Do you plan on standing there all evening, or are you going to come keep me company?” His smooth timbre graces your ears, turning them a bit hot.
You take the hint and walk in, hopping on one of the stools from under the island when he points a spoon at it. Up close now, the savory goodness is maximized. It’s hard to resist bracing youself over the quartz countertop to peer inside the pot, but you know from past experience that you are not immune to a whack from a spatula if you try, so you remain in what’s unofficially become your seat.
Eclipse’s focus doesn’t stray, but his gaze does momentarily flash up to you with a gentle smile.
“Hungry?”
You fold your arms on the countertop and lift a brow.
“Eclipse, when you offered to make me dinner, I don’t think you took into account that I’m just one person.”
You gesture to the various dishes he’s got going on both stovetops. There’s more than enough to feed a whole family.
Dark sun rays glint from the overhead crystal lights as he tilts his head. His mouth thins.
“Our neighbors at the far end of the hall have a family member who’s currently in the hospital,” he says somberly, stirring all the while. “A little boy. The parents have been juggling that as well as taking care of work and their two other children. Sunny, Moonie, and I aren’t too familiar with the family, but we’ve bumped into them enough times to have several friendly chats. The father recently told me about his sick child. I decided to lend a hand where I could, with their permission.”
He nods to the empty Tupperware containers stacked beside him. You give a soft sound of understanding and furrow your brow.
“What happened to the kid? Is it serious?”
“Not entirely sure. I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to press the father for information, especially since it was a rather brief conversation, and he was just getting home. He did tell me that their son isn’t in critical condition at the very least.”
“Oh. I see.” You glance back at the cookware. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
You’re not very good in the kitchen by any means, and Eclipse knows this, but that doesn’t mean you’re unwilling to try.
He lowers the heat on one of the knobs and then turns to the pan behind him.
Over his shoulder, he suggests, “Would you mind carrying the food when it’s ready and going over with me to give them their meal? I could always use an extra pair of hands and a pretty face to accompany me.”
You rest your cheek in your hand and hope your face isn’t as flushed as it feels at the compliment.
“I’d be happy to.”
“Good. While you’re in a helpful mood, can you also go open the fridge and take out the glass in the front for me?”
Hopping back off your chair, you slip over to the ridiculously giant fridge that towers over you and pull open the steel doors. Inside, you find what you think Eclipse is requesting, a tall glass filled with a thick and creamy bright yellow mixture, like a smoothie. You pull it out and hold it up to him.
“This one?”
He looks over and then beckons you to him.
“Yes, thank you.”
Nudging the fridge doors shut, you sidle over to him and shift up on your tiptoes when you near to peek around him at the simmering food. Eclipse tuts and shoos you back with a knowing raised brow, and you aren’t in the slightest bit abashed. You do feel a little miffed at your plan being foiled so easily.
“Here you go,” you say, offering him the glass.
Eclipse pauses with the food for a second as he reaches over for something next to him. He then turns and slips a straw right into the cup and nudges it back to you.
“And there you go,” he remarks.
You blink.
“For me?”
“For you.”
Your face breaks into a happy grin, and you immediately take a sip. Eclipse carefully studies your reaction, waiting to see if you approve. The taste is barely on your tongue before your eyes widen, and Eclipse chuckles, having received his answer.
“Oh,” you gasp after swallowing. “That’s amazing! Is it mango?”
The animatronic nods. His pleased face makes you stuff the straw back into your mouth to take another sip.
“Lassi,” he says, a tinge of pride in his words. “I figured you might like it. That was my first time making it though, so let me know if it’s missing something.”
You shake your head.
“It’s literal perfection. How did you make it taste so good? I thought mangoes weren’t in season right now.”
“They aren’t. However, since you’d said you enjoyed the fruit, I had a box of them special ordered and flown in so that I could make the treat for you. If you’d like to take home some of the fruit tomorrow, you’re more than welcome to them.”
You almost drop your glass along with your jaw. Your other hand quickly comes up to keep the precious treat from slipping from your fingers, and you try to play it off as just readjusting your grip on the cup.
Special ordered? Flown in? He did all of that, paid what must have surely been an exorbitant price… because of a passing comment you’d made?
Gobsmacked, you toy with the straw, nibbling on the tip and digesting the casual delivery of his words like he didn’t just verbally shake you down and rattle you so hard your teeth clatter. Or maybe that’s the brain freeze starting to get to you from slurping down your drink on autopilot. Your face must be broadcasting your emotions because Eclipse gets one glimpse of it and then comes to a halt.
“What?”
You don’t answer right away, but your confoundment begins to morph into a perplexed amusement that draws a wry smirk across your lips. The mango flavor bursts on your tongue with every sip, rich and sweet, and after a few more seconds to enjoy the taste, you look up from your drink at the confused animatronic staring at you.
A disbelieving huff tumbles out.
“Are you sure you’re not a mob boss?”
Eclipse doesn’t get your little joke right away, idly drying his hands with a towel while his processor digests the comment. The face journey he goes through is highly entertaining, as is the clarity when he remembers the scene from work that you’re referencing. Once he connects the dots, he grins widely.
“Maybe I am.” He coyly inclines his head in your direction, traces of molten heat just seeping into the shades of hellfire. His words drip with faux satin seduction as he dips a little into character. “But what are you going to do about it, sweetheart?”
Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, huh? That’s the game he wants to play?
You pretend to heavily ponder the question. Full head-tilt back, lips pressed in a thin line, intensity matched in the low-lidded leer.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, angel eyes,” you note, fighting back a smile, “but I’m afraid this story doesn’t have a very happy ending for you.”
Eclipse sets aside the towel in his hands and then rests his palm on the countertop. Though he’s not right on your toes, he’s definitely close enough that you could get a crick in your neck from looking him in the eye. His optics betray his delight and teasingly threaten to devour you whole.
Fingers tapping on the island, he whispers, “If you can see how the story ends, then that must mean there’s still room for deviation. How might one as resourceful as me bribe my way into your good graces?”
You trace a finger around the rim of your cup with a speculative noise as if you’re examining a new piece of evidence. You let the silence rest for a little while to let the suspense build, and in that moment, you’re not in the kitchen but back on set, flying loose from the script with your improv. Your secretive tone matches his.
“Well, Mr. Mob Boss, I’m not biased by any means, but I think there might be some room for deliberation from the jury if mango lassis are involved.”
Eclipse’s laughter erupts at that, sonorous and contagious in sound and volume that shatters the flirtatious scene you were spinning with him, and your act falls away as you join right along.
This is exactly what you needed. After all the good times you've shared with the three animatronic brothers who just stumbled into your life as you did theirs, you can’t imagine preferring to go to your empty apartment every night. That might be your home, but there’s no laughter or life, music or singing, friendly teasing or conversation waiting for you. You don’t have anyone waiting up for you when the sun sets or someone lying next to you when it rises.
And you think about how your possessions have slowly started to migrate to the brothers’ apartment, like your favorite pair of sweatpants that you just know one of them stole and hid away here or the spare tube of toothpaste that you know Sun always has on hand for you just in case even though he claims not to. And then there are the dishes and cutlery and incredible, amazing food. Prior to your frequent visits, the kitchen didn’t see quite as much action. On occasion, Eclipse would make something or other for his students—a reward if they excelled on one of his exams or projects—but that still doesn’t compare with the amount of time he spends in the kitchen now. He claims that cooking and baking for you is a delight because it works his processor in a way he doesn’t often have the need to. The science and intrigue behind making something from scratch and having it turn out tasting delicious, even if he can’t taste it himself, excites him.
Now, he claims he just has a good excuse to put that habit to use.
You.
A simple human with a simple life that sometimes strains on the side of too stressful or overworked. Before meeting Moon, Sun, and Eclipse, you didn’t have people fretting over your eating habits or sleeping habits or lack-of-fun habits. Now you do. And you’re not confident about what exactly this bubbling feeling in your chest is whenever you’re around them or thinking of them. You just know that it’s growing more intense every day, like at some point it’ll just pop and spill over.
You have an inkling of what it might be. You’re scared to put a label on it and inevitably find out that they don’t feel the same. Better to keep your emotions to yourself instead of risking ruining the three good things in your life.
Your laughter has died out, but you don’t have to cover it up because Moon enters the kitchen then. He’s got his arms crossed and a wry air about him.
“Doesn’t sound like a whole lot of cooking going on in here,” he says.
Eclipse’s good mood doesn’t sour, but he’s hardly impressed.
“What was the last thing you tried to cook? Rice? In the rice cooker, no less, correct? Remind me how that turned out, Moonie.”
It’s like watching two cats hiss at each other. You shuffle out of the line of fire and reclaim your seat at the island to watch the show, drink in tow.
If there’s one trait Moon shares with Eclipse, it’s that he’s not one to pass on getting the last word in. If he had fur, he’d be bristling right now.
“We both know that’s only because I was putting out the fire Sun set in the microwave.”
From several rooms down, Sun shrilly yells, “Don’t drag my name into arguments I’m not present for!”
You can’t help but ask.
“What happened to the microwave?”
You’re not sure you’re going to get an answer, not with how intensely close to a playful scrap the two animatronics in front of you seem to be. But after a long sigh, Moon breaks eye contact first.
“Aluminum,” he says. “Sun didn’t bother to check if aluminum foil could be put in there.”
“No one bothered to tell me either,” a warm voice warns behind you, and then two hands find your shoulders and begin a wonderfully soothing rub.
You’re being spoiled tonight—not that you’re complaining. If they’re not careful, you might just get used to this kind of royal treatment. Dangerous territory. That doesn’t stop you from sinking into the massage, eyelids slipping shut.
“Made your bed for you, sugar,” Sun adds while his fingers work magic on your poor posture.
“Thanks, Sunny.” You lazily reach up and pat one of his hands. He steals it with one of his own, but you don’t mind. “By the way, since when did it become my bed?”
“Oh, did you want to share mine instead?”
Ah. Yep, dangerous territory indeed. You are suddenly beyond grateful he isn’t facing you. The heat in your face could suffocate a person.
Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it.
“I think I’d sooner take my chances with Moon,” you hastily deflect. “Sleeping is kind of his thing.”
Your eyes crack open just enough to see the smug faceplate of the brother in question. However, they pop open much wider when the hand still massaging your shoulder creeps deceptively toward your neck with extremely light pressure.
“Hmm, that’s a shame,” Sun chirps. His fingers shift up onto their tips and spiderweb across the space between your neck and shoulder, causing you to instinctively hunch in on yourself. “I would have offered you only my softest of blankets and plushest of pillows, whereas Moon has a truly deplorable habit of hogging the whole bed if given the chance. But if that’s what you prefer, then who am I to judge? Say, buttercup, you wouldn’t happen to be ticklish, would you?”
This time, your nervous tittering is more of a squeak as Sun’s hand curses your skin into breaking out in goosebumps. Your hair stands up at the edge of your scalp when one fingertip traces a teasing line just along your ear.
“Aha, Sunny, wait a second,” you say weakly, glancing to Moon and Eclipse in a silent plea for help.
It takes less than a second for you to figure out you’re on your own. The former soundlessly hops up onto the countertop and gives you a “my hands are tied” shrug that would have more sincerity if it weren’t accompanied by a gleeful expression. The latter is suspiciously engulfed in tending to his dishes. There’s a shadow of a smile just barely visible before Eclipse turns to the oven to check on what’s inside.
“Oho, pulling out the pet names now, are we?” Sun giggles, and it somehow sounds maniacal. He doesn’t have nails, but the very tips of his fingers have just enough of a sharp edge to draw fine circles across your skin with pinpoint dexterity.
You shudder hard when he alternates the ticklish pressure with a light tapping right on the side of your neck, and then an unholy sound lances past your throat at an abrupt squeeze of the tender skin. Everything in you demands your body shrivel up in self-defense, and when you almost fall out of your seat, Sun at last grants you mercy.
He slips both hands around your arms and hoists you back up. You’d thank him for catching you from faceplanting on the floor if he wasn’t the cause behind it. That, and his warbling chuckles do little to amuse you. As he takes the seat next to you, you glower distrustfully at him. He winks right back. It’s hard to maintain an upset face when Sun isn’t even the tallest animatronic of his family yet still has trouble bunching up his gangly limbs under the lip of the countertop.
“No more fooling around in the kitchen,” Eclipse says, pulling something with a garlicky aroma out of the oven. You catch a glimpse of some sort of bread, and your stomach lets out an impatient growl.
Sun is by no means cowed.
“You love me, Clip,” he simpers.
“Regrettably, yes. I’m obligated to as your brother.”
“Aww,” you coo.
“Moonie on the other hand though…”
As if summoned into action, Moon lazily swings his foot wide to connect fully with Eclipse’s side. It makes a dull metal tong sound, and with both hands occupied, Eclipse can do nothing but tank it. He doesn’t bow over or flinch, but he does let out a gravely grunt.
Moon’s eyes meet yours.
“He means to say I’m his favorite.”
With absolutely no sarcasm at all, you nod and say, “Yeah, I can clearly see why.”
As soon as he’s able to, Eclipse shoos Moon off the countertop with a little more force than strictly necessary.
“Alright, out. I’m almost done here, and I don’t need you two fools interfering with the meal.”
“But I thought being jesters was our whole MO.”
“Out.”
Moon begrudgingly slithers away to do his own thing with Sun not too far behind. He pauses to let you know he’ll help you set up the blanket fort after the movie later, to which you eagerly express your enthusiasm. Then you shift in your chair uncertainly.
“Am I banished to the shadow realm too?”
Eclipse shakes his head.
“No, you are a guest in this household and are welcome to stay as long as you’d like. Besides, you’re not nearly as much of a menace as my brothers are. Though I will be employing your services quite soon to carry this food over to the neighbors, so don’t run too far off.”
Both of your brows lift, cheekiness taking front once again.
“Like you could ever chase me away.”
His rays twirl, beautiful dark shades that stand out in the light.
Used to your behavior by now, he simply says, “Maybe chasing is part of the fun.”
Now there’s something you can agree with wholeheartedly. In the acting space, it’s often said that when you play a character, you put a part of yourself into them and leave with a part of them in return. As the vigilante, you don’t deny that the playful chase you partake in with the detectives sets you alight. You revel in the game you play with them, knowing that in the end, the result will be that you will catch them just as much as they will catch you once you’re done running circles around each other. It’s a story you’ve become quite attached to, and you know that the last day of filming will be equal amounts of celebration and sadness when the fun comes to an end.
You guess Eclipse would have a similar mindset. Enjoying the chase, the thrill of the hunt. Playing a character who’s hellbent on it must carry over somewhat. Some of his line deliveries truly do leave you shuddering at the viciousness behind them. You can’t imagine someone more suited for his role.
The straw pokes into your cheek when you take another sip. Smacking your lips, you make sure you’ve got his attention when you answer.
“That all depends on if you’re quick enough to catch me, toots. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve kinda got a mean streak of luck keeping me two steps ahead.” You gesture at yourself. “Comes with the territory, y’know. Vigilante and all that.”
Eclipse reaches for one of the containers next to him and begins spooning large portions of one of the dishes into it.
“My dear, I think you might be conflating real life with the one you indulge on set.” He finishes with one container and then grabs another, this one being filled to the brim with rice that smells unbelievably flavorful. “The difference between myself and the character that I play is that I only give chase if I believe the one I’m chasing wants to be caught.”
Something has shifted in the room. In the tone of the conversation. Unable to put your finger on it, you press on, intrigued.
“And do I? Want to be chased, that is?”
The lid of the container seals shut with a pair of loud snaps. Even while focused on his task, Eclipse’s every action tells you that he is keenly attentive to you and your whereabouts. He moves fluidly without disrupting the strong connection that presses you to your seat in an invisible force.
“You tell me,” he says. Not quiet but soft enough that it still feels like a breath ghosting along your ears.
Maybe investing in a portable freezer to carry around on your person wouldn’t be such a bad idea. You’re starting to get the impression that the hot blush on your face and neck is becoming a permanent fixture, which you really hope isn’t the case. You’re not usually like this, so it doesn’t make sense why tonight you’re so off your game.
It’s almost like this feels like a date. But that’s an absurd thought because you’ve stayed overnight numerous times and raided their kitchen twice as much. Maybe you’re just getting sick after all, like Sun thought. It’s probably not too late to bite the bullet and ask him to check your temperature, humiliation be damned. But you know for a fact it would be twice as embarrassing if it turned out you didn’t have a fever. A bit hard to play off a flushed face when you can’t blame your frail human body’s predisposition to getting sick.
Is he flirting with you? Have they all been flirting with you? You honestly can’t tell. Yes, you’ve been flirting right back with your boys, but that’s different. It’s not real. It’s just for fun. You’re just seeing things that aren’t there because that’s what you want.
At least, you think it is.
You see what Eclipse means about conflating.
You haven’t responded yet, and when it becomes clear that you’re floundering for something intelligible that’s not just a broken string of words, Eclipse releases you from that heavy eye contact. A long exhale whooshes out, like you’d been holding your breath that entire time. Not saying anything seems somehow worse, like an admittance of something you yourself aren’t sure you’re guilty of. But the moment’s passing, up, up, and away, and pretty soon, you just slump in your seat, defeated. At least you have a delicious drink to cool off with, and you spend the next few minutes just sucking on the straw and downing the fruity mixture.
Threads of chatter filter in just around the corner, and you listen to the sounds of Moon and Sun debating on how the construction of this blanket fort should go so that it will rival all the previous ones. They’re competitive in most things, but they always work together to create a cozy nest of pillows and blankets and any plush surface they can find. You’ve often fallen asleep during movie nights because of how relaxing the space is. Sometimes, you’ve been too comfortable to be moved. Other times, you’ve woken to being quietly carried to the guest bedroom. You pretend to still be asleep when that happens because the tenderness with which you’re tucked into bed makes your dreams all the sweeter.
Maybe you should feel guilty for it, but given there’s no real harm in the matter, you let yourself have this. The brush of a fingers across your forehead and the simple squeeze of your hand and the extra layer of warmth from another blanket being securely draped over you are all things you treasure. It doesn’t matter which animatronic carries you to bed either; they all show gentle affection in their own ways.
This is some level of domesticity between friends that must border the line. It’s intimacy in raw form, and you crave it.
Another loud pair of clasps snapping into place bring you back to the present. Eclipse appears to be finishing up packaging everything that will need to be brought over to the neighbors. You have to wonder what they think of the celestial animatronic brothers. It’s been decades since animatronics were deigned sentient and thus deserving of equal rights and privileges. Even with the passage of time, hostility and refusal to accept them as a new race have remained amongst some humans. Those people are slowly becoming the outliers though, and you hope that one day, you won’t have to be so guarded and protective over your friends’ safety. They can undoubtedly take care of themselves, but that doesn’t stop you from worrying.
With as little as you’ve heard about the family Eclipse is preparing a meal for, you can’t develop an opinion so soon. But they sound like people who are just trying to survive through the unfairness of fate, and they hold no ill bearing against your boys. And Eclipse doesn’t just cook for anyone. You would know.
He stacks some containers on top of each other and then nudges a pile over to you.
“Could you carry these for me please? I’m going to get the rest,” he says.
A being made of metal doesn’t need the help of your silly human strength. The fact that he just wants an excuse for your company makes you eager to help regardless.
“Old age catching up with you quick, huh, Clip?” You scoop up the weighty Tupperware with minimal struggle. “You’re lucky you have such a strong partner like me to do all the heavy lifting for you.”
A wheezy sort of synthetic noise leaves the animatronic, and he pulls yet another storage container from the fridge, this one already packed up and ready to go. “You’ve caught me. The dastardly plan I’ve been secretly concocting this whole time is just a trap to put you to work. But I hear there’s a reward for those who lend a helping hand.”
You perk up.
“A reward?”
The dark rings in his optics slide over to you sidelong, smug at your interest.
“You’ll see,” he purrs.
Well, now you have to help him at all costs. He could beg you to carry a body for all you care, and you’d do it just because of how easily he’s hooked you in. The intrigue compels your feet into action, and you’re swiftly by the front door, arms full as you wait for him to hurry up.
Eclipse seems to take his time just for his own amusement. You can’t prove it, but you swear he’s moving slowly on purpose, and you squint at him when he finally emerges with his own containers in tow. Before you can call him out on it, he turns and yells to his brothers that he and you will be back shortly. Twin responses of agreement echo from the family room, and then the tall mass of metal and limbs and too many wicked teeth is at your side and unlocking the door for you.
You wait for Eclipse to take the lead since he knows where to go. Keeping up with his long stride would normally be difficult at a walk, but he pointedly takes smaller steps so you don’t have to jog with the food. He glances at you and frowns.
“You don’t have to carry those if they’re too heavy. I was merely teasing about putting you to work, and I might not have taken into account the weight of all of those combined.”
“Nah,” you say, even holding the food slightly further out of his reach just in case he tries to take them. “Gotta have an excuse for showing up at your neighbors’ door, right? I can’t let you take all the credit.”
Eclipse huffs. “Of course. Far be it from me to take away from your first impression.”
“Exactly.”
You beam at the eyeroll you can just feel from beside you. For all his height and heavy machinery, Eclipse is almost silent as he walks down the apartment corridor. It doesn’t take long at all for him to come to a stop at one of the doors, and one large fist politely knocks.
You can’t hear anything from inside, and the seconds tick on into nearly a minute, but Eclipse remains patient. The muscles in your arms begin to grow fatigued, though you don’t so much as shift the containers. No need to set off the clucking mother hen in Eclipse again.
After a few more moments, soft footsteps near the door. They pause for a moment, and then the apartment door unlocks and swings wide open. A woman stands on the other side. She’s visibly exhausted with a tiredness that drags down her shoulders, but the look in her eyes is one of deep friendliness.
“Eclipse,” she greets warmly, leaning against the door, “Thank you so much for doing this for us. My husband and I are beyond grateful.”
“Think nothing of it,” Eclipse says, inflection no less welcoming than hers. “It was no trouble at all. I was already making dinner anyways and just upped the portion size.”
He then turns to you. “This is Pia. She and her husband, Andrés, have been wonderful neighbors in the short time I’ve known them.”
“I could very much say the same about you,” Pia replies. Weary hazel eyes meet yours.
With your hands full, you can’t wave, so you just settle for a smile.
“Hi,” you say, feeling a bit awkward.
The woman blessedly takes it in stride.
“Hello,” she says back. You notice her pleasant expression doesn’t falter once. “I take it you’re the one Eclipse has been cooking for? He did mention that he was cooking for someone else lately.”
“Yep, that’s me,” you chuckle, and then you give her your name. “I’ve been eating him out of house and home these past few months.”
“They say that like I don’t enjoy cooking for them,” Eclipse whispers loudly to Pia.
She offers a wispy laugh and then seems to notice the armload of food you’re holding.
“Oh, would you like to come inside? Here, let me take those off your hands for you.”
You willingly relinquish the warm Tupperware, and Eclipse voices the same thought you were having.
“Thank you, but we were just stopping by to drop these off. I don’t quite trust my brothers to make sure the kitchen doesn’t burn down while I’m gone.”
“Sounds just like my kids.” She sets the food on a surface just out of sight and then takes the rest from Eclipse to place them on the table as well. “They’re far from grown, but they love trying new things. Sometimes, they get a little too ambitious, if you know what I mean.”
“Of course.” Eclipse pauses like he’s considering his next words. He waits for Pia to finish with arranging the army of containers. Then, a bit lower, he inquires, “And how is your eldest doing? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”
A long, drawn out sigh seems to deflate Pia’s entire body, as if she’s barely being held up by more than air and strings. Your heart twists with sympathy. Having no kids of your own, you can’t relate to the pain she must be going through, but you know it must be staggering, dealing with that and raising a family. You suddenly wish there was something more you could do for her, but it’s not your place. Pia doesn’t know you well enough yet, and you don’t want to overstep.
You’re glad Eclipse offered to help this family out. He was right to do so.
While gathering her thoughts, Pia glances to the side, staring further into her home at something out of sight. Her lips tremble, but she doesn’t cry. The hand clinging to the door tightens.
“He’s…” She stops and takes another breath. Once she composes herself, she faces you and Eclipse again. “There aren’t any real updates yet. The doctors have told us his condition is stable, which is reassuring, of course. But… he’s just a child. No one that young should have to be in the hospital battling some stupid infection. So my husband is with him now. Trying to, you know, spend the night there just to make sure he’s not alone. And then tomorrow, hopefully I’ll be able to wrangle up the rest of the kids so we can visit him too.”
Her voice is thick, and her eyes shine wetly. Still, she braves a smile. She is every bit of a strong mother just doing her best to take care of her kids. Something you find more than commendable.
“We’ll be wishing him a speedy recovery,” you softly say, and Eclipse utters a deep hum in agreement. Saying as much feels meaningless in comparison.
The words don’t quite come out audibly from her as she’s too choked up to find her voice just then, but she mouths a thank you.
You shuffle in place uncomfortably. Standing here and taking up her time away from her kids now seems like an intrusion. But Pia lingers still, and you don’t want to leave her on such an empty note. These kinds of situations were never your forte, and you struggle to find something to lighten the mood. You feel powerless and useless.
One of Eclipse’s hands settles on your shoulder. It forces you to relax some of the stiffness in your spine, and in that moment, you’re extremely appreciative of how in tune he is with your emotions. You know you can wear your heart on your sleeve, sometimes to your own detriment, but in this case, the solace is fully wanted. Strange how you’re not even the one going through a crisis, but you still crave support. If anything, the woman before you is a tougher force than you’ll ever be. You hope only good things come her and her family's way.
“I know it’s only a meal, but I hope the food offers some reprieve, however small,” Eclipse murmurs.
Pia shakes her head.
“It’s not small at all. Taking care of children is a full-time job, and you don’t realize just how thin it stretches you until one of them gets hurt or sick.” She rubs one of her arms like warding off a chill. “The best form of help I can receive right now is energy, and you cooking a meal for my family does that in more ways than you know. I’ll be sure to save some for my husband to take to him tomorrow.”
“Hopefully it will be palatable for you all then. Ah, that reminds me.” Eclipse gestures to the stored away food with a tip of his faceplate. “One of the dishes has a little heat to it—the coconut chicken curry. I’m not sure what your and your little ones’ preferences are, so there’s also a salad and some soup if you’d rather have something less spicy. And there is rice and naan to go with the curry, if you’d like.”
“It all sounds and smells delicious, so I know we’ll enjoy it. You’re more than generous.” Pia considers you and him for a brief reprieve, dark eyes darting between the odd pair a human and an animatronic more than twice their size makes. “And I’m sure you’ve gotten to see and taste that firsthand. Are you two…?”
She gives a vague gesture at you and Eclipse.
It takes a second for you to understand, but then you smirk a little crookedly and brush off the question.
“Ah, no, we’re not related. I tried to blend in with his family, but for some reason, no one was buying it. Can’t imagine why. I’ve always said these bones are made of metal.”
You jokingly pat your forearm.
Eclipse stifles some sort of sound from deep in his chassis, and you quirk a brow at him.
“I think what Ms. Pia was trying to ask,” he says, and there’s the dry snark you’ve learned to become so weary of, “is if we’re together as a couple.”
“Oh.”
You look at Pia. She smiles, but her lips are pressed in a thin line, like she’s holding back a small snicker.
“Oh,” you say again because once really wasn’t enough.
Eclipse decides to save the situation for you.
“No, we’re not dating,” he tells the woman, but his voice has a certain cadence to it at the end, like he’s about to say more. But he doesn’t add anything more to that, and you get the intense impression that there’s a whole lot of unsaid conversation happening right now.
“I see,” Pia says, but she does so in a way that suggests she’s seeing a whole lot more than you are. “Well, I don’t mean to sound like a broken record, but I really can’t thank you enough for cooking an entire meal for us. It’s just so unexpected but kind. If there’s anything that I can give you in return...”
“No need.” Eclipse’s hand squeezes your shoulder, and you begin to subtly step back along with him, away from the door. “I just hope your son gets well soon. If you ever happen to need another meal, please feel free to let me know. I can’t guarantee I’ll be free every night to cook, but I’ll do what I can to help. Provided my cooking is up to par, I suppose.”
Pia bites her quivering lip like she might burst into tears. Her watery laugh confirms as much, and she sniffles.
“I don’t need to taste it to know that. I should let you get back to your own dinner though. Thank you for everything. And it was nice meeting you,” she says, directing the last part to you.
You and Eclipse wave and bid her farewell and then continue back down the corridor. The click and lock of a door echoes behind you. Alone again, you keep quiet as you walk back to the brothers’ apartment. The patterns in the floor swirl and spin in a vortex while you stare unseeingly at it.
Everything that just transpired plays back in your head. Maybe there was something more you should have said to Pia. Something encouraging. You think your presence there wasn’t of much help at all, but perhaps knowing other people cared enough to check in on her was all you could have really given the woman. You don’t know her or her family, though that doesn’t stop the slight constriction of your heart on their behalf.
Your feet don’t stop until the hand on your shoulder gives another squeeze. It makes you pull back from your thoughts and realize that you are in front of the brothers’ apartment door. Tilting your head a little more up yields Eclipse’s concerned faceplate.
“Everything alright?” he questions.
As if you’re the one who needs help. You don’t have the power to snap your fingers and heal someone, but you wish you could for that little boy. Kids like him should be out playing and having fun and not worrying about breathing.
You shrug.
Since that doesn’t feel good enough, you add, “I’m glad you introduced me to her. She seemed nice.”
His eyes slide away.
“Yes, I thought so too. Both her and her husband seem like good people. I’m hoping that after this mess sorts itself out, we can become friends.”
Like he’s not already well on that road. You’ll bet that his and his brothers’ involvement has already left a lasting impression.
“Just keep feeding them,” you remark goodnaturedly. “That way, you won’t ever be able to get rid of them.”
There’s that familiar grin you’ve come to love. His optics gleam.
“Such high praise,” he trills. “Is that supposed to be a hint that you want your own dinner now?”
A sly shrug.
“It might. But there could be something else I’d also like before then.”
Eclipse crosses his arms, one of his hands tapping his teeth in thought.
“Something else…”
You nod. As an animatronic, he most certainly hasn’t forgotten what he promised you earlier, and you shift on your heels in excitement.
“So,” you chirp, folding your hands behind your back to hide your eagerness for whatever he has in store.
But Eclipse just looks at you.
“Yes?”
You gnaw on your lip. Shuffle your feet. Lift your brows expectantly.
Nothing. Eclipse waits for you to continue. You think he might have not understood what you’re alluding to, but you’ve learned to read the slight differences in his grin. He has a glass-edge sharpness just at the thinnest tips of his mouth. He knows what you’re thinking.
What a cocky bastard. You think he might have some issues with “conflating” too, or however he put it.
Reluctantly, you give in first.
“So what was that you were saying about a reward?”
A hand that could easily be the size of your head rubs at his bottom rays. He feigns confusion.
“A reward? What reward?”
Stepping on his toes wouldn’t hurt him at all. You would know; you’ve tried. But it would be petty at the very least, and you’re sorely tempted.
Instead, you remember something he’d said even earlier.
Unable to bite back a smarmy grin, you retort, “You tell me.”
Elongated rays slowly turn in an idle pattern that you’ve often seen from Sun when he’s thinking about something. It’s cute and a little endearing. You wonder if Eclipse picked it up from his little brother or if it’s the other way around.
When he appears to come to a decision, his rays come back to a stop.
“Follow me,” he says and resumes striding down the hallway.
This time, you widen your own steps to keep up.
Eclipse leads you down one row of apartments and then another, taking a sharp turn until you reach a little lounging area not too far from his place. It’s a public alcove, but no one is around, and a few chairs and a table are pushed against a wall. Impersonal but cozy enough. A window hangs above the single cushioned bench across from the table and chairs. Here, the animatronic stops, staring out at the dark sky from where trails of snowflakes slowly descend. The numerous lights from other buildings illuminate the snow that has already begun to stick to the roads far below.
You stand next to him and admire the view for a few seconds. It’s nice, but this doesn’t seem like the thing Eclipse would want to show you. Not when he has an even better view from the balcony of his apartment.
But you never can be sure when it comes to the tall, brooding animatronic next to you.
So you tentatively say, “You wanted to show me a view of the city?”
A scoff.
Then, “Yes, I absolutely wanted to show you something you’ve seen a thousand times over. No, what I really wanted was to give us some privacy.”
You frown and turn to him.
“You have an apartment—”
“That is shared with my brothers.” He pulls away from the window as well. “Privacy is a little hard to come by when you have younger siblings, and the only space I can completely get away from them is my bedroom. But I felt that taking you there for something like this would seem a little… uncouth.”
“Uncouth.” Both of your brows reach your hairline.
Eclipse looks like he bit a lemon. An incredible feat for someone who can’t even open his mouth.
“Please don’t make it sound weird. I’m trying to take into consideration all of your delicate human sensibilities.”
“I’m making it weird? Not the person who’s apparently bothered by the thought of me seeing their messy bed?”
“What? No, that’s not what I— Actually, yes, let’s just go with that. Forget what I said.”
Your frown deepens, confused at what he could have possibly meant instead, and you open your mouth to question as much, but he hastily continues on, stilted.
“I wanted to give you a reward. But in retrospect, it’s closer to a favor that I’d like to ask of you. So I apologize if that makes you uncomfortable. And you’re more than welcome to say no, of course.”
You’re way past the point of confusion. Eclipse seems incredibly nervous for something that you’d originally thought would be trivial, so you wonder if he really does have a dead body he needs you to hide. Not exactly how you planned out your evening, but you are someone who rolls with the punches. He did make you dinner, so you’ll at least hear out your friend who’s now possibly a convict.
“Must be some hell of a favor,” you say in lieu of just staring blankly.
The animatronic tugs you down onto the bench with him, and you end up sitting facing him with your knees touching his from how much space he takes up. You’d write the act off as him just trying to conceal his nerves, but he seems to actually want you sitting down for whatever reason. He scoots closer to you as he stumbles through his words.
“Yes, well. It’s been on my mind for a while. I considered asking sooner, but I wanted to be sure of where you stood regarding the matter. I’m still not entirely sure, but I believe I’ve read the room right. Or at least I hope I have.”
“Eclipse.”
“Hush, I’m getting there. What I mean to say is—” He reaches down and takes your hands in his. Your hair falls across your shoulders when you tip your head down, blinking, but his voice beckons back your focus. “My brothers and I have grown fond of you. Very fond. You are… someone we treasure greatly. And I hope you don’t need me to say that in order for you to know it.”
Ghostly warmth begins to crawl into your cheeks.
“We’ve all developed our own friendships with you over time,” he continues, “and I know it’s been just several months since we first met. But even in such a small time frame, our feelings and thoughts have all aligned on the same page regarding you. That is to say, we care deeply about you. The way you’ve written yourself so easily into our lives has left a tremendous impact that I’m not so sure you’re quite aware of.”
“I think I’m getting there,” you interject with a tiny smirk.
Eclipse sighs, smiles, and squeezes your hands. “I just wanted to make sure I was upfront about that first. It’s very important to Sunny, Moonie, and I that you know how we feel. I won’t put words into my brothers’ mouths, however, so you’ll have to hear from them themselves about what they think. Now, as for the favor, and I really hope you’ll forgive me for this, but I think the anticipation will kill me if I delay any longer. And I know the end of the year is still weeks away, but waiting until then would be insurmountable.”
He says your name then, so light and soft and airy that your head is in the clouds.
“I was wondering if, as a favor that might be a reward depending on your perspective, would you… help me get a head start on this new year’s tradition?”
Silence.
Your eyes don’t leave his, that bright yellow glow broken only by the dark rings inside.
When you find your voice, you say, slowly, in disbelief, “You want me to help you…?”
He waits for you to continue. When you don’t, he finishes the sentence for you.
“Get a head start on the new year’s tradition, yes.”
More silence.
You narrow your eyes, anticipating a joke, but it never comes. Somehow, after that whole speech, you thought you’d have at least some contextual clues. You’re sitting in place with even more questions, and none of the dots are connecting, none of the lines are intersecting, nothing’s making sense.
Tongue moving even more slowly, the hamster wheels in your brain spinning overtime, you draw out, “So… you want me to help you brainstorm a resolutions list?”
The spans of silence are getting repetitive at this point, but at least it’s Eclipse’s turn to appear utterly baffled. He gapes at you like you’re the one not making any sense, his tension not quite leaving but taking a backseat to make room for… whatever this is. You have no idea, and now for some reason, he doesn’t seem to either.
“Pardon?” he says.
Like a mirror, your confusion reflects onto him, which bounces back onto you. The lack of comprehension is almost funny. But you’re too perplexed to really note that in between the quiet. So you wait a beat, about to repeat your question.
Then Eclipse’s expression evens out as whatever caused the miscommunication finally dawns on him. A little huff escapes, and his grin smooths into a less crooked line.
“Oh dear. No, darling, I don’t need help with a resolutions list. That isn’t what—”
“Well, good,” you can’t help but throw in, “because I’m terrible at keeping to them.”
Eclipse shakes with his mirth, quiet little shudders that make you relax. You give him a moment, and when he releases a big electric sigh, you patiently wait for him to continue.
“That isn’t the tradition I was referring to. I meant that I’d like to get a head start with you on welcoming in the new year… with a kiss.”
The hamster wheels grind to a screeching halt.
You don’t say it, but your mouth drops in a small oh. You forget your hands are currently in his, so when you listlessly try to lift a finger to point at yourself in disbelief, you don’t get very far. He seems to realize what you mean all the same, and he nods.
“Yes,” he further clarifies, which is very needed in your stupefied state. “I want to kiss you.”
Even with the audible confirmation, you still don’t believe what you’re hearing. It just doesn’t make sense to you. None of what he said makes sense to you. You’ve half a mind to believe that your unbridled thoughts from earlier have catapulted you into some insane lucid dream, and even now, you’re trying to understand any of it.
“Eclipse,” you weakly laugh, tensing up again, uneasy. “We’re not on set right now. Where’s the punchline?”
He turns pensive, metal sun rays creating a new draft as his smile melts away.
“No, no joke,” he says, earnest. “No punchline. I know it seems like everyone has made light of our friendship and teased us relentlessly about it all throughout filming. But this isn’t that. I’m not asking if you want to be in a relationship with me so suddenly. I’m asking if I may have your permission to just start on the path toward that, test the waters, so to speak… and maybe see if there’s the smallest chance you find yourself wanting something similar along the way as well.”
You’re not sure why—it could be because you’re afraid to blink at all—but your eyes are beginning to burn. In the time you’ve gotten to know him, you’ve understood that Eclipse is bold about most things, and he has no issue vocalizing his stance if needed. But seeing that in action and having it directed not just at you but for you is another matter. You’re not used to someone caring that much about you. Though he and his brothers have done a fine job in changing that around.
You blink away the irksome mistiness. To your hot frustration, a tear slips past your guard, and Eclipse draws in a wounded artificial respiration.
Before you can frantically wipe it away, he’s already there, catching it for you with a touch that makes your beaten heart lurch even more before he takes your hand again.
“Sweetheart,” he whispers, and for the first time compared with the numerous others he’s used that endearment, it feels real and like it’s directed at you without an ounce of make believe. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head. But I have an inclination of what your heart is saying, and I want you to know that those feelings you have, the ones you doubt are true, are entirely wanted and reciprocated. I want you, in whatever way you’ll allow me to have you. Just understand that my desire goes beyond the silly ridicule we’ve heard at work or the harmless banter we’ve exchanged ourselves—though I can see it’s been far from harmless now.”
You don’t dare to breathe. But you keep your ears and eyes open as Eclipse lays out in no uncertain terms what you’ve subconsciously longed for for ages. Another tear falls.
“If it takes more than words to prove my want for more than a friendship with you, then I’ll let my actions do the talking, starting now if that’s something you’re okay with. I’m serious about this, and I need to make sure you believe me when I say this isn’t a joke at your expense. You mean too much to me to be a mere punchline.”
If you didn’t have so much practice from your job, you’re certain you’d be bawling like a baby right now. How many nights have you laid in bed, feeling like you’re missing something? How often have you stared after the three brothers and wondered if you’re getting too close? How often have you told yourself that it’s all in your head, none of it is and never can be real?
And yet, against all odds, what you’ve needed is being handed to you on a silver platter.
You’re not and never will be as articulate as Eclipse, so you draw the card from your deck that’s always been your go-to, and choose a weak stab at levity.
“You know,” you sniffle, “for a guy who usually doesn’t beat around the bush, you sure use a lot of words for a simple request.”
It’s worth it for the flash of combined relief and fake chagrin that you know doesn’t bear any ill will toward you.
“Forgive me,” Eclipse says, mildly deadpan, and you can hear the subdued mirth in response to your remark, “but a certain someone has demonstrated an uncanny amount of obliviousness as of late to my attempts at flirting with them.”
Okay, he’s just going for your throat now. This still doesn’t feel real. You’re expecting that this is just some weird dream that will make you have a crisis when you wake up. So if this really is all in your head, you’d better make the most of it while it lasts.
You contemplate the large hands holding your much smaller pair. In response, Eclipse draws ticklish lines along your palms before smoothing over them with a softer rub.
Your lips try for a smirk but don’t quite get there. His former nervousness must be contagious because now you’ve got it. You want to meet his eye, but it’s making your confidence take a fast hike in the opposite direction.
A swallow. Light clearing of your throat. Mouth opening to speak and then snapping shut once more.
If only you were this talented on set, able to cry so easily. You’re delivering an Oscar-worthy performance right now, except it’s authentic. Eclipse had better be appreciating it because he’s fully responsible and had better accept the repercussions.
Taking a quiet breath, you try once more. Those hands steady you all the while.
You try to say yes. That’s really all you need to do to get the ball rolling.
Instead, what you manage to stutter out is, “I-I think that’s your cue to move in close, pumpkin.”
You want to shove your foot in your mouth. Metaphorically, of course.
One of Eclipse’s hands leaves yours and slides back up to your face. It spans your wet cheek and tilts your head up, seeking your gaze. Just to be more of a hassle and also to ignore the burning embarrassment flaring across your skin, you consider petulantly closing your eyes; the moment you see his, however, you can’t look away. The clash of black against gold robs you of your breath.
Lowly, as if to be sure, Eclipse clarifies, “Is that a yes?”
You hold back another ill-timed quip, eyes brimming with unshed happiness.
“It's a yes.”
Your breath catches when he leans in closer yet. You expect your thoughts to be screaming like they always have been, but it’s just a calm single-mindedness that centers around only the lovely individual seated next to you. That doesn’t mean your stomach isn’t bursting with that fluttering feeling or that your one hand isn’t clinging tighter to his while the other finds purchase in the fabric around his lower thigh.
The night is apparently still young in throwing you for a loop because Eclipse doesn’t completely close the gap. He’s close, so close, unbearably close that if he had lungs, you’d be feeling the smooth caress of his breath across your lips. His expression is nothing less than heated, eyelids falling heavy as he ogles without remorse at your parted mouth like he’s a starved man presented with the finest meal. His palm remains gentle around your cheek, but his fingers press in just the smallest amount to make you dizzy. It’s as if he’s on the verge of a possessive grip and only just holding himself back.
He doesn’t move. Neither do you.
You wonder if maybe he’s forgotten what he was going to do because he’s just so lost in your truly irresistible attractiveness, and the proximity has finally done him in. But you suspect it’s likely not that. The agonizingly slow drag of his leer back up to yours tells a different story.
A flashbulb image of the sight you and he must be making sears through your retinas. This little alcove had better have wards surrounding it, or else you’ll throw hands with anyone who dares to intrude on your private moment.
Eclipse says something. You’re a little lost in thought or maybe just his eyes—a cliché thought for which you immediately give yourself a strong mental kick—so you don’t catch it. Your hair shifts a bit when you tip your head.
“What?”
Nothing on Eclipse’s face suggests what he’s said. There’s a very strong chance it has something to do with you and not the weather, but that’s all you have to work with.
Calmly, he repeats, “A yes to what?”
You stare. The confusion returns, though maybe he’s just making sure he didn’t read the situation or you wrong.
“Yes to what you want to do?” you say, voice tipping up at the end.
Apparently, that’s not good enough.
“What do you want me to do?” he asks.
And that’s when you realize what he’s doing.
Oh, for—
You manage the flattest expression possible, countering the wretched grin that now eats up your vision. Eclipse beams so brightly that it reaches his optics. There is not a single part of it that is appealing, a fact you have to frantically remind yourself of since your heart is leaping at it like it has a mind of its own. His rays are still, but you can see them twitching hard with the desire to spin.
An aggrieved groan overtakes your throat. Getting up and walking away would mean some victory over Eclipse, but it also would deprive you of your reward, which you really, desperately, unequivocally very much want. He’s got you right where he wants you, and he knows it. At least it’s sobered you up enough that you’re not on the verge of crying more.
Defeat is supposed to taste bitter. You accept it this time with a surprising sweetness settling on your tongue.
With a longsuffering sigh—because your patience truly knows no bounds around him—you say, once more, with feeling, “I want you to kiss me.”
In the greatest twist of events, Eclipse shows you mercy. His grin is no less wicked, but it helps that you find yourself pulled toward it regardless.
“My pleasure,” he says, and with no more hesitance, he removes the gap between you and him and kisses you, achingly gentle and sugar sweet.
On your cheek.
Your mouth hangs open. His dry amusement vibrates through you as he lingers where you had not expected him to go, his smooth mouth grazing your skin in tangible warmth. He nuzzles a little lower then, skirting his sharp grin just below your jawline. As he presses close, his hand holds your other cheek securely so that you can’t help but tilt your head and grant him better access.
Any petulant protest that had been readied on your lips dies. Eclipse hardly does anything but hold you still so that his mouth can lay tender affection on your burning face. It somehow feels even more intimate this way because he is the one bestowing the kiss while you can merely gape ahead at the pointed tips of his rays that he carefully steers away from prodding you. You’re clinging to him with increasing force, drowning from him overriding all your senses until everything within you just sings his name.
When he at last relinquishes the space that had been between you before, you catch your breath again. Metal fingers trail down your cheek and the surely telling heat that radiates from it. Eclipse gives a hum that is highly appreciative and somehow makes you go from hot to scalding. You can’t hide anything from him like this, and he doesn’t seem intent on letting you slip away so easily. Maybe you’re secretly part animatronic too because whatever he just did left your brain feeling utterly fried. You’re little more than a puddle right now, with him being the single entity holding you intact.
His hand continues down until it curls under your chin and nudges your head up a smidge more. Ah, you weren’t meeting his eyes again. His own flare with pride or satisfaction. You try and fail to swallow with a dry throat.
Your voice wavers when you say, “Well… that’s not what I was expecting.”
Metal bends with his intrigue.
“Had you imagined something else?”
You don’t like how he can remain so smooth and unaltered after that. He can deny it all he wants, but he shares more aspects with his character than he thinks.
“Saying I imagined it suggests that I’d thought of it before now. Which I haven’t, just to be clear.”
Liar. You huff and frown. You’d cross your arms if he wasn’t still holding your hand. Or you weren’t holding his. Whatever.
Even sharks have nicer teeth. Eclipse’s eyes narrow with the keenness of a predator, reminding you that you are very alone with him. Suddenly, having someone walk in on you doesn’t seem so bad.
“I’m sure you haven’t,” he says, sounding like he believes the exact opposite but is choosing not to call you out on it. “So that means it was a surprise then. A pleasant one, maybe?”
“It wasn’t bad. Just seems like you missed.”
“Missed?”
“Yeah.” You realize you’ll have to spell it out for him and experience a twinge of exasperated affection. “You’ve kissed me before, oh angel eyes, so I thought you’d—”
“No,” Eclipse quickly cuts in, shockingly serious, prompting you to stop in surprise. “No, that was different. The characters we play have kissed. We’ve always been removed from the roles that we act out in front of the lights and cameras. Those moments have all been directed, scripted, and cut to unrealistic perfection to meet the standards of television. But I have never kissed you, dear one. Not until now, at least, though it was most certainly worth the wait to me.”
He’s not wrong. You had been surreptitiously equating those little kisses on set to what might be real life, with a thin acknowledgment that it wasn’t really the same. Probably another reason you’ve been struggling so much lately. So Eclipse is right in that regard. But the tangent he’s gone off on isn’t what you’d meant.
You hook your foot around your ankle to stop the urge of bouncing your knee from restlessness. Your whole body feels ready to shift around if you don’t get a hold on this abnormal shyness. It has to be some sort of witchcraft he’s secretly working in the background. You’ve never felt like this around anyone before.
The annoying little voice in your head tells you that’s not true, bringing up recent memories of your encounters with all three of the brothers. You mentally tell that voice to shut up.
“That’s honestly one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me, Clip, but I was just saying that I thought you were going to kiss me like before.”
You almost frown at his intense scrutiny, his pupils shrinking and inverting to staggering gold against a harsh black backdrop.
“So just to make sure I’m understanding this correctly, what I’m hearing is that you want me to kiss you like our times on set? The times that I’ve had to pretend to hold you so harshly that your bones would have bruised if it weren’t for movie magic? Treating you like some object or pet that utterly demeans you? That’s what you want?”
As a joke, because you’re greatly feeling like you’re losing control of the conversation, you shrug and make a face that ultimately boils down to well, if the shoe fits.
Eclipse barks out a short laugh.
“Darling, I mean this with only the most graceful and kind intentions, but have you lost your damn mind?”
His reaction startles you, and you backtrack immediately.
“I’m not saying you have to kiss me like some deranged, possessive person—”
“I’m glad,” he snaps. “Because I won’t. I won’t ever do that to you, and I refuse to treat you like an object. I would have assumed you knew I respected you too much to even consider that.”
“Eclipse,” you huff, smiling to try to disarm the stiffness in his posture and face as his fierce declaration melts you, “I was just kidding. All of this was just to say that I thought you were going to kiss me on the lips. That’s all. I would never think so little of you, not when you’ve gone above and beyond to prove different.”
His upset disposition doesn’t waver right away, but he also doesn’t rush to speak up again. You can see the exact moment when your words sink in because the animatronic’s whole demeanor transforms. The sudden ferocity in his dark expression fades, and the air ebbs back into something lighter. You think you might have actually offended him—accidentally, that is—by implying he needed to be like the unhinged character he stars as. That wasn’t your intent by any means, and you rub his knuckles with your thumb in apology.
“…I see.” He aims a grumble at the floor. You can sense the tiny ripple of embarrassment from him now that he recognizes his overreaction. You’re almost certain he’d be blushing if it were possible. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. That wasn’t my intent. I was trying to be a gentleman.”
Oh, your smile is going to become a permanent feature if he keeps saying sweet nothings like that. That’s adorable.
He’s still pouting though, so to lighten the mood, you say, “You are very sweet. A total charmer. I’d even rate the experience a nine out of ten.”
Now it’s his turn to aim a flat grin your way. It makes yours inch up higher, and his rays cycle anew. You’ll be the first to admit that you’re relieved when the colors of his eyes invert again back to their usual pattern.
“Not a perfect score?” he sniffs, or as close to the sound that an animatronic can make. “Well, if you’re going to be such a smooching critic, maybe I should just take my kiss back.”
You gasp in feigned shock, rearing back as if scandalized.
“Eclipse! You wouldn’t.”
“I will,” he growls like he isn’t playing, and without warning, he effortlessly reels you back in.
A much more sincere gasp escapes you as he tilts your head to the side, baring the cheek he hadn’t kissed. His teeth find your unmarked skin, and this time, you feel like you might faint. You hadn’t expected this at all, and with no way to brace yourself for it, the suddenness leaves you in a tailspin. He must be able to hear your heart as your pulse rings like a clear bell in your ears. Everything from your face to your neck to your fingertips feels like it’s on fire, making you dizzy and breathless.
Eclipse doesn’t linger as long this time, but the gravely purr that sounds like a rake over coals stokes the embers in your body. He pulls away, not far, faceplate hovering just inches for you with a catlike smugness splashed across the surface. His rays are back to whirling again, and further down, you can hear the highspeed kick of his servos.
The consolation that you’re not the only one reeling is small but enough to ease you back down to a calmer plane of existence.
And to think you wanted him to kiss you on the mouth. The room must be stuffy or something because there’s no other logical reason for why you feel close to passing out. You feel hazy but also like you could sprint down the halls at a marathoner’s pace at the same time.
“Satisfied?” croons the voice right next to your ear.
Despite your best efforts, your lips curl up.
“Yeah, I’d say so,” you say, a bit heavy from your breathing.
For now at least, your thoughts tack on cheekily. You can’t disagree with that.
Eclipse practically preens from the underhanded praise. He straightens further to give you a little more breathing space, and your fingers dig into the creases of his pants with the desire to drag him right back in.
Later, though. As much as you like the idea of continuing, you much more appreciate the manner he’s approached this. Disguising his feelings as a reward or a favor or what have you allows you to put distance between yourself and a relationship. You know you really, really like the idea right now, but you don’t want to rush into things either. You want to think about it and also what he said about his brothers and their possible feelings too. Looking back at how close you’ve grown to Sun and Moon, you’re not so sure you doubt anymore that there could be something more in the sidelines that only needs to be approached to become a reality.
But time. You need time to take a step back and evaluate your own heart… regardless of the fact that everything in you is screaming a wild yes at progressing from being just friends.
You reach up and secure both of Eclipse’s hands in yours. The color of his optics shines with luscious warmth, drawing you like a moth to a flame. You maybe want to stop dancing around him and instead just dive right in. That all can wait, though. He’s already made it clear he’ll wait for you.
Quietly, you murmur, “Those little hiccups aside, I think you’ve given me a lot to think about.”
He laces your fingers together, likely feeling the fluttery jump of your pulse at even that.
“Hopefully, those will be good thoughts you have. But even if they aren’t,” he says, this time uttering your name like a whispered prayer, “even if you choose not to pursue a relationship with me, that is completely alright. And that extends to my brothers as well. Take your time; we’ll be right here.”
He lifts one of your hands then and gives you a final kiss, right atop the backs of your fingers. Of the three he’s given you so far, that one feels the most tender.
Before you can become a permanent fixture to your seat, Eclipse stands and helpfully brings you up with him.
“Now,” he says, voice returning to its deep thrum, “let's get back home before your food gets cold. I believe Sun is planning to put on his favorite Christmas movie for you tonight.”
“Oh?” You gleefully begin walking with Eclipse, his broad arm curving around you and keeping you close, which you are all too happy to accept. The little alcove of a lounge isn’t far from the apartment, but the trip seems even shorter this time. “I don’t think he’s ever mentioned it to me before. What is it?”
Eclipse gives a throaty chuckle, and his hand squeezes your shoulder.
“Not what you’d expect,” he answers in a very dubious manner that dodges the question entirely.
At the door of their apartment, he produces his keys from his pocket and unlocks it, holding it open for you to slip inside. The waft of mouth-watering dinner makes your nostrils flare. Eager, you toe off your shoes as Eclipse closes the door behind you, and the sound of the TV wars with the smell beckoning you back to the kitchen. You opt to make a beeline for the family room instead and find Sun and Moon on the couch while Sun fiddles with the remote and a selection of movies on the screen.
Moon catches sight of you first, and the eerie prickling of his evil grin should be warning enough. However, he pats the space next to him, two hearty thumps on the couch cushion between him and Sun.
“Have a seat, pardner.”
You can’t resist. It feels like you’re walking right into a trap—a feeling that only enhances as soon as you sit down. Moon’s arm that’s draped over the back of the couch noticeably slides down until his hand brushes your upper arm. He teasingly taps his fingers against it, and you side-eye him with mounting suspicion.
“Visit go well?” he asks. Despite his shifty aura, his tone is sincere.
You nod.
“Yeah, they seem really nice. I think the mom was appreciative of the meal at least. She looked really tired.”
Moon’s smile thins.
“That’s to be expected. Clip’s interacted with them the most, but we’ve all had the chance to meet them. Their kids are real cute and well-behaved. Sunny thinks so too, though you won’t catch him within ten feet of them.”
From your other side, Sun scoffs, “Stop making it sound like I think they’re carrying some contagious animatronic disease.”
A lightbulb goes off over your head then.
“So when you were talking about being nervous around kids this afternoon, you were referring to your neighbors?”
Sun glances from the TV to you, faceplate a little pained.
“Is that bad? Moonie and I have been talking about helping watch the kids if necessary, and if the parents are even okay with that, of course. We haven’t offered yet because we still don’t know them all that well, but we do want to help. I’m just not… I don’t know how much the kids would like or listen to me, to be honest.”
Moon grunts, and when you look back at him, he’s rolling his eyes.
“You’re more than capable, Sun. You just don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“Well, maybe I want to fish for compliments.”
“Better get used to coming home empty-handed then.”
Sun glares waspishly over your head at his brother, and you shake your head with a snort. You tap Sun’s knee to get his attention, and his frown softens.
“I heard you had a Christmas movie in mind?”
Sun’s rays immediately begin spinning.
“Yes, I do! My very favorite, in fact, so I hope you’re into the classics. We’re just waiting for Clip to join us with your food.”
From the kitchen, Eclipse calls, “You can go ahead and start without me, Sunny!”
You think he might mutter something further, but it’s too faint to tell. Moon’s arm keeps slouching more and more of its weight onto you, and the very unsubtle hint finally makes you give in and rest against him.
Moon makes a very pleased hum, and you huffily laugh.
“Getting cozy?” you whisper up at him.
Dark optics peer down at you.
“I might need the extra comfort for tonight.”
Your face turns confused, and Moon nods towards the TV. You look back to see what Sun has selected, and you feel yourself freeze.
“No...”
That is not the lighthearted romance or cheesy, fluffy comedy you’d expected.
With a grin rivaling his namesake, Sun tilts his head at you, rays spinning.
“Is there really any better Christmas classic than Die Hard?” he remarks in a far too cheery tone.
You want to think he’s joking.
“I don’t really think that’s—”
“Glad you agree!” he announces before you can dispute it. Then with viperlike speed, he leans in, inches from your face. “Because I’d really hate for you to back out of a silly prank war so easily.”
When he gives you back your space, reclining against the other side of the couch with the most punchable smirk you’ve ever seen, you try to think of some way, any way, you can spin this in your favor without letting him win.
Moon’s chassis shudders beneath you as he tries to hide his amusement.
“Best not to reason with him,” he murmurs. “I’ve since learned to just accept it.”
“But… isn’t it technically a horror film?”
“By the movie’s standards? No. But it gives us all the excuses to cuddle, hm?”
You mull over your options. The movie starts, and Sun is glancing over at you and Moon with pointed skepticism like he’s debating over whether to try to finagle you over to his side. You almost wonder if that’s the sole reason he picked this movie. Knowing Sun, you absolutely would not put it past him.
If that’s the case, then game on. You give him a snarky waggle of your brows and snuggle further into Moon’s side. Sun’s optics turn into thin white lines with his playful glower. His faceplate tips up a bit with an air of self-assured posturing, and his little smile lets you know that he’s on to you.
Moon sneaks his hand from over your arm to under it, wiggling across your waist. You focus on that while you turn back to the movie.
As the night continues on, along with your two boys and eventually Eclipse and a plate of food that truly is divine, you find yourself unable to stop smiling. Horror movie or not, you feel more content and safer than you have in ages. It’s a deep-seated warmth that stays in your chest, flaring when Moon squeezes you closer throughout the movie, when Sun sneakily scoots across the couch inch by inch until you’re just as sandwiched against him with one hand threading with his, and once or twice when you catch Eclipse’s golden peripheral.
It’s a culmination of moments that wind through the hours and the laughs and the impromptu pillow fight that later ensues after the movie when you all try to set up a blanket fort, bursting with childish glee. It follows you when you settle in for the night, exhausted, somehow sharing the cushioned floor space with all three of the brothers despite you each having your own beds you could sleep in. The warmth doesn’t falter once but rather grows, making your heart beat at a slightly more elevated rate than usual even when you’re supposed to be sleeping. Your euphoria has yet to leave, and the snowflakes continue to spin outside in the darkness and the city lights, the cold far away when you’re snug in the comfortable haven that’s starting to feel more and more like home.
This is real. You have the option to make it an even greater reality, one they’ve offered to you freely.
Your eyes close after one final check on the quiet animatronics around you, still in their rest mode and version of dreamless sleep.
Yeah. You have a lot to think about.
#eclipse x reader#sun x reader#moon x reader#daycare attendant x reader#sleuth jesters actor au#detective au#sleuth jesters fanfic#fnaf sb#writing tag#omg that part is finally done#going to take a mini break to finally(!) catch up on reading some fic and leaving some comments and then I'll get back to editing
159 notes
·
View notes
Text
dog-eat-dog: part 1
can’t breathe.
tlou fanfic
ao3
summary: You swore you would avenge her. Karma. What goes around, comes around. Before the story starts, you already cut through the hunters that had actually killed your sister and almost killed you. But now, you were on the hunt for a pair of brothers who needed to pay.
word count: 1.7k
warnings/tags: fem!reader, reader is nearly an OFC, but I’ll try to keep it as vague as possible (reader is in her late 20s/early 30s), dog imagery/inferences (shocking I know), based in a slightly altered game timeline, (TW) lots of blood imagery, violence, death, good ol’ revenge, allusions to abuse/torture, manipulation, trauma, physical scars, panic attacks,
NO USE OF Y/N
a/n: Might write more for this?? Dunno yet. This isn’t necessarily going to be a Joel x fem!reader fanfic since well, your endgame is killing him (or close to it). Let me know if any of you would actually like me to continue this. This is kind-of a proof of concept, I guess.
I thought the og plan for Abby was super gut-wrenching. So basically this is playing off that concept except earlier in the story, maybe a couple months after Ellie and Joel arrive in Jackson.
Apologies if this isn’t super well written. I’m not really a writer, but I’m trying to get better at it lol.
———
Outside Boston, Massachusetts | 2019
The woman in front of you begged for a scrap of mercy. Spit flew out of her mouth as her screams scrawled into your eardrums. A bandana hung from her neck, soggy and wet seemingly from once being used as a gag.
“Please, I’ll do anything! I won’t tell anyone, we won’t tell anyone! Just let us go! Please, I will–”
A devastating crack rang in the still, stuffy air for a few moments.
You choked on your breath, caught off guard by the sudden noise. Her cries ceased, only to leave a dead silence hanging on every breath of air you took. It was suffocating. Heavy and thick, almost as if you forced yourself to swallow each gasp of air to keep it from escaping out of your throat.
Her hair was matted. Brown, once shimmering, coils of hair knotted and tangled into an undistinguishable disarray concealing her face.
A moment prior, she had mirrored yourself. Kneeled and hunched on the spotted tile floor. Bound by a makeshift rope, her hands were covered in splatters of blood and sweat. Her attention frantically searched the bleak room before locking onto your eyes. Even in the darkened lighting, her eyes were distinct.
Filled to the brim with complete, unadulterated terror.
The glint in a person's eye just before their internal clock is shattered flickered into view as she stared.
Her motionless body now laid on its side on the floor. A constant shake that enveloped her entire body was absent.
Eyes devoid of any notion of life.
Just as you peered down, a mixture of blood and brain matter inched its way beneath where you knelt and soaked the knees of your jeans. Every thread held onto what was once the woman’s lifeline, her experiences, her emotions, her triumphs, her resounding failures. All to be left to the heap on the floor and the pooling blood soaking the knees of your jeans.
It was uncomfortable. Everything in the room felt hollow. You couldn’t help but focus on the unbearable, warm wetness of your pants. Your skin crawled. You needed the sensation to stop.
It didn’t matter anymore what was being said. It didn’t matter that you could barely see through the blockade of tears obscuring your vision. It didn’t matter that all parts of you were being tugged at. It didn't matter how it was demanded for you to look into the eyes of your captures. Everything glazed over. All of the things you looked at carried a translucent, dark wash overtop. Your intense focus barred you from making out the fuzzy details in the gloomily lit room. Knives that had once made you sear with pain felt like a nail being dragged against your skin. None of it mattered.
You could only pay attention to your jeans.
The woman, your sister, was gone, and you were up for slaughter.
———
Wyoming | May 2034
Surviving by the skin of your teeth had taken a toll on you.
Day in – day out, each passing minute felt like white, hot, sweltering pain. An ever-present rumble persisted in your mind. Across your back, each movement, tight and stiff, felt like a fucked-up mnemonic omen to your past.
Reminders were strung across the pavement, painted along cracked walls, hidden in the bleak corners of your sight. Closing your eyes never helped. The black void moved. It writhed into crude shapes resembling her. Shadows resembled the lifeless bodies that seemed to cling to you, no matter where you went.
Living left you battered and bruised. At the turn of your adolescence, being used as bait was what kept you fed. Supplied a cot to sleep on. Hunters dangled rations above your head on the condition you performed your 'trick' accordingly. You’d set off, hooked onto a leash of watchful eyes, feigning injury to lure unsuspecting do-gooders into a trap. A trap that left their corpses sizzling in a horrific bonfire and their belongings stacked on tables for auction. Cry for help as a ploy for the attack, get rewarded. If you escaped, you'd be stripped of essentials. You were a kid. Surviving on your own never posed as a viable option. It was hard to admit to yourself, but you’d be dead the moment you were let out of your cage. Other members drilled that fact into you. You knew even without their teeth snapping in your ears. The “Huntsman” provided an alternative far from feeling comfortable, but you could grin your teeth and bear it. Scars that sizzled along your back would be returned in due time. You laid in wait.
Into your adulthood and new-found 'freedom', surviving on your own was far more manageable. You were capable. Knowing how to defend yourself and manipulate those around you made being alone an easier plate to consume.
Long gone were the days of innocence and naivety. The cracks of bone and the tear of flesh had become your normal. You reeked of it.
The stench lingered off of you. A bloodthirsty curtain hung heavy over your eyes, dowsing all of the light they once harbored. Your experiences shaped you entirely, and not in a good way.
You were angry. Enraged. Frenzied.
A thick, heavy sheen of viscera seeped into every single waking moment and each minuscule second of your unconscious mind. You couldn’t escape it, even if you tried.
You took it in stride; no other choice was thrown to you.
Every ounce of fury ached in your bones. You used it in all facets of your existence.
You were living in a premonition. A desire. A need.
And you —
You would stop at nothing until that obligation became your reality.
-
Infected were commonplace. Nothing but a measly obstacle in your cyclic routines.
At first, you had been so hesitant to kill them. What if they could feel? What if they were still human? Sometimes, you thought you heard runners retching, fighting out the word 'stop', while devouring their kills. Avoiding them at all costs was a priority. You couldn’t bear the weight of the guilt if those thoughts were the truth.
Now, you had no choice.
Killing was made practical. Methodical. You had a way of going about it.
Thinking about the act too strenuously made you feel sick. Torture and the drawn-out ‘satisfaction’ of draining something of life wasn’t a pastime you enjoyed. Blood building around the eyes, it dripping from the mouth, made it too real. Death was delivered as swiftly as you could within the circumstances you were in. You’d only go the mile if it was something you deemed necessary. Or deserved, rather.
It boiled down to a quick draw of your revolver or a sweeping heave of a machete, and foes were left as nothing but flesh that oozed. They were puppets pulled on fungal strings for an organism that barely kept them alive. An infection pawning creatures as a means for motion and viability. Or, they were empty husks of people, lost too deep in the compensation for being ruthless and lusting for blood.
If anything, you were putting them out of their misery, right?
You convinced yourself to believe that.
Walking along barren, cracked roads had become a dull environment quickly. Dilapidated storefronts, battered farmhouses, and run-down neighborhoods muddled into a blur of lush greenery and rotted wood. It was calming, in a twisted way. Civilization plummeting into a remnant of what it once was felt fitting, warranted, from what little you remembered. Bricks that had been chipped away by the elements littered the ground. Structures were left as ruined time-capsules of an easier way of life. A life you didn't know long enough to stow away attachments to. A bygone era. Much of their worn, cement bones were picked clean, unlucky for you.
A few stragglers inside an abandoned home you were rummaging through became a welcome change of pace. Heart racing in your ears, the adrenaline gave you a high. You’d press yourself against a wall, letting your hearing acclimate to the subtlety of a pin drop. You’d ambush. Quick on your feet, you’d rush behind a clicker, driving your pocket knife deep into its throat. It would choke out. Gurgling and hissing for a few moments, it would give a sad attempt at clawing its way out of your grip. Promptly, it would fall limp, and you’d allow it to crumple to the floor.
Rinse and repeat.
In a jam, you’d slide over tables and counters to create distance, trusty revolver in hand. A shotgun holstered on the side of your backpack was useful if you were cornered. You’d had countless close calls, but you’d always managed to slip past. Injuries such as a broken arm or snapped ankle wouldn’t stop you regardless.
Beams providing support to a nearly collapsed roof sometimes fell from their deteriorating posts; the crash stealing your breath away. You felt rickety floorboards beneath you, then suddenly they were gone. It's dark.
She’s screaming.
She’s crying out your name. She can’t stop saying it. You can’t breathe. You’re taking in breaths; why can’t you breathe? What happened? She won’t stop shouting your name. You can’t feel your hands anymore. What’s happening? Your arms are numb. You keep blinking, but you can’t stop seeing her. You weren't here a second ago, right? Why won’t you answer her? She’s gagging on her tears. On the floor now. She’s relentlessly calling for you. Say something. Ears are buzzing. She’s coughing up blood. Can’t breathe. She’s crumbled on the floor. Legs are cold.
She isn’t yelling for you anymore.
You’re screaming.
You couldn't take it anymore. You were so close.
Nothing could stop you now. There is only so much an ability to fight could do you good for. You’d have to be smart and play your cards right.
Because you knew damn well that waltzing in with a loaded gun and a seemingly empty threat would get you nowhere.
It didn’t matter how long it’d take. You were more than ready to play the long game.
Fuck, you'd been playing the long game. This resolution had been brewing in your mind for nearly fifteen years.
This was personal. You would make it personal.
After all was said and done, you couldn’t give a shit. But until then, you needed to act the part and end this perpetual nightmare.
And kill Tommy and Joel Miller.
Or, die trying.
#dog-eat-dog#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller reader fanfic#joel miller#tommy miller
30 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
segredosdomundobiblioteca
Segredo do Mundo
curiousk9
aspiring himbo
nuggetsofgems
Gem's Corner
jondobbsart
Jonathon Dobbs
localchatlinesse
Untitled