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kanene-yaaay · 4 months

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Secrets and the Pros and Cons of Not Running Away

Kanene's notes: I will receive no constructive criticism on this, I saw a character that just keeps being destroyed over and over because he loves and cares too much and since mah bros on that island only SUFFER, I *WILL* take the matters onto my own hands and give them all the tickles and fluff thank you so much for understanding.

Anyway, the Happy Pills Arc is my absolute fave until now, and this animatic is my new obsession. It doesn't has anything to do with the fic, really, but I think it deserves more love drtyuiklkjhg.

Warnings: This is a tickle fanfic. It has hurt/comfort, fluff and some angsty thoughts, but nothing too dark. It happens after the Happy Pills stuff and doesn't follow the canon timeline. Ticklish!Forever and Ler!Philza, Ler!Bad, Ler!Pac, Ler!Mike, Ler!Richarlyson, Ler!Tallulah and Ler!Chayanne. It is 8,000 words long.

[~*~]

Forever woke up.

His eyes hurt when they opened so he kept them closed for a few minutes more, watching the flash of memories run behind his eyelids in blurry movements and sounds.

For the first time in a while his mind was silent, clear from all the effects of what the Federation did to him. His feelings no longer exploded crazy in his chest as they often did during the last few days, fighting to survive before the chemicals from the drugs washed them over and got suppressed by a blinding, fake happiness.

Their kids were gone.

Richarlyson was gone. His son disappeared in thin air and there were no clues or hints that showed any single way to get them back or even know where they went.

The island was in scrambles, empty.

There were explosions and grieving and chaos everywhere. Every parent doing any and everything to cope with the fact that from day to night they’ve got what was the most important for them ripped right from their fingers.

The N.I.N.H.O, his project (his responsibility) didn’t work out this time and they lost everything because of it.

Badboyhalo was losing his colors. Baghera disappeared. Cellbit straight out begged him to not leave him alone during all of this. Mike hadn’t been seen in a long time. Etoiles was trying to keep their hopes up. Everyone asked him what they should do, now. What would he do as their president.

And what did he do? He fucking lost it. He let his feelings get over his head, exploded everything that he could put his eyes on, demolished his base with TNT and threatened Cucurucho, forced the Federation to do a throwback just so they would have an island to put their feet on. Made the Federation see him as a threat and force those pills on him.

He left everyone. His family. His friends.

(What more could he do?)

And everyone should've left him too.

…

And yet…

And yet Pac jumped head first to save him. Accepting to go under Cucurucho’s “treatment” so he could analyze the drugs and find a cure for it. No matter how much he was shaking in fear the entire time, how bad the Federation treated him before or how there was just no certainty that his plan would even work

And yet Philza saw under his mask of smile, past the point of his gun and right into the pain in his eyes in his lowest moment and said that everything would be fine, that he still trusted him, that he knew who he was and how much he cared about the eggs. He said they would find a way to solve things out.

And yet Cellbit didn’t let him go for a single second. He followed him no matter the instability, during those painful moments of consciousness, beyond the fake minutes of happiness and slipped past his traps just to go and pull him out of it. He shouted and hugged and taunted and broke and fought dirty and did what he could to bring him back.

And yet Bad still talked and answered him, even with how much he was hurting, even with the bombs and screams and the dismissing he came back over and over again with his chats and banters and discussions that so easily led Forever to the trap that would come to save his life.

Once again, there were tears in his eyes.

They were too his family. Forever was the one who put himself under Cucurucho’s radar by going apeshit and bombarding the entire island and they were the ones who saved him from that white fucking bear. From himself. From the Happy Pills.

He cried.

(What else could he do?)

Agony and hope danced in harmony in his chest, sucking all his other senses to nothing and filling his soul with every emotion under the sun at the same time. It was overwhelming but good to be free to feel so easily. It was horrible that he knew how it was like to miss this freedom so much. It was empty to feel this despair all over again. It was good, no, essential to know he was not alone.

Almost hopeful, even.

And yet their children were gone.

And yet everyone was kind of lost.

And yet they needed someone solid, a strong leader to step in.

Forever didn’t feel strong.

(What would he do?)

He wiped his tears. Sat on the bed. Got up. Put back the flag on his shoulder. Took a deep breath, listening to the very known voices coming out of the infirmary that made his entire face change to a (this time genuine) happy, tired and relieved kind of smile.

The president of Quesadilla Island woke up.

(And he didn’t have any idea of how much everyone had been waiting to show him how much they were happy about it.)

[~*~]

It all started in very tiny ways, as most things did, easy to miss if you didn’t know where to look.

The first time it happened Forever was at favela. He had just finished fixing the elevator from the Karaoke and was watching the sunset (Hi, Bobby) wash over the beach in a dance of colors at the top of the building, resting on the parapet. Pac was somewhere close, building more houses or getting in trouble with Fit, but, besides them, it was just him, his memories and Copacabana beach.

Forever laid his head in his arms, with a long sigh, closing his eyes and just letting the wind mess his hair and clear his thoughts, enjoying the brief moment of peace before he started thinking about more plans and projects to fill his day and mind with.

It was hard, though. When every block he put down or decoration he pulled up made the blonde turn around with a call in the tip of his tongue, words disappearing when he realized that there was no set of small footsteps following him and probably never would again because they were all gone and he was not and how could he ever even think about-

A shiver ran down his spine and made his thoughts come to a halt when he felt a light tickle in the back of his neck, making him have to move a hand out of his comfortable position to wipe the leaf or whatever out of his skin.

His fingers made contact with nothing. Uh. Must’ve flown away already.

He was tired. Maybe he should take the rest of the day to clean his base. There were still holes from the mine traps that someone has been spreading across the island lately. Another problem for him to resolve. Looked like those were never going to end.

The tickle came back, following him even when he flinched away, with a puffed snicker falling from his tongue. His hand shot to scare whatever insect it was from his neck again but the touch was as nimble as it was soft, lightly and skillfully dancing away from his hold before it could catch him.

“Que porra.” (“The fuck.”) He tried again and again, going so far as slapping his entire arm behind him, hitting nothing.

The sensation disappeared for a brief while before running all the way across his spine, making him almost jump in the air and finally give up his comfortable position to spin around. “Que que é isso, cara!” (“What is this, man!”)

“Pfff- hahaha!”

Forever turned just in the right moment to see his short friend, with sky blue eyes shining with a playful light, pulling a black, crooked and beautiful wing behind his back, his laugh ringing across the building.

“Philza! Really?”

“What? You wouldn’t have that problem if you wore a shirt, you know?” Forever’s shouted “WHAAAAT!” did nothing to alleviate his laughing fit, a snort not taking long to appear.

“You, you’re, you’re bullying me, man! I just came out of the hospital and you treat me like this. I can’t believe it!”

“You’re-”

“You come here, you hit me, you don’t let me rest after I get out of a coma… I am an injured, man, you know that, Philza? You’re bullying an injured man.”

“I literally,” his tune tried and failed to sound at least a tidbit serious before he descended in more laughter. “I literally didn’t even hit you!”

Forever continued as if he didn’t hear the protest of the other, turning around and gesticulating dramatically. “You’re a bully, Philza. You’re such a bully.”

“I am doing that to remind you to put on a shirt! You just came out of the hospital, you’re gonna catch a cold.”

“Nah, nah, nah, you’re mean. You’re just so mean to me. Like, I thought we were friends, you know? But I see the truth now.” He tsked. “That is just sad, Philza. That is really sad, man.”

“Oh my fucking god.” The punch he gave on Forever’s arms didn’t even hurt, only making the president snicker louder. “Shut the fuck up.”

Forever chuckled at how done the other sounded, watching him roll his eyes and shake his head with a big smile before taking (he wasn’t resting anymore so might as well just finish his work here) the chance and walking in between the tables and chairs until he got behind the balcony. In no time he began filling the storage with drinks and food. The high, upbeat joy of banting with his friend slowly calming down.

“Actually, I am going to put back my old black suit soon. I am just taking a break from wearing suits so much, you know?”

He didn’t have to explain what the break was really for and how his old presential clothes didn’t have anything to do with it, Philza understood.

“Take that time off, Forever, you deserve it.” His tune was soft.

Forever smiled, wishing he could show Phil how wrong he was. A“break” definitely wasn’t on the list of things that Forever deserved at all. That anarchist was way too kind.

“Thank you very much, my friend.” He closed the cabinet door, turning around (and away), facing the entire restaurant.

Each chair, each color and decor had been carefully picked by small , gentle claws. The building had been chosen by hand and even the balcony was built lower than normal, made so that a small child could go behind it and pretend to be a barman, sing with the melodies and enjoy the view with their family and friends.

Signs were still spreaded there, on the restaurant, the rooms, the favela, the N.I.N.H.O, the Spawn, their home and island… None of it had been built to be just for the adults and it all brought a longing pang in his chest.

Saudade.

They’re gone. They’re gone and he was here laughing and resting and doing nothing to rescue them and how could he be so usele-

Another soft sweep of feathers right under his chin made him flinch away with a surprised, bitten giggle, successfully making his line of thoughts disintegrate for a second time. A half smile painted his face.

“Stop with that, man! It tickles.”

Philza tilted his head slightly to the side, eyes sharp in concentration, as if just realizing something. But at the sound of Forever’s voice he blinked and let his expression become a tad more relaxed, with worried tunes.

“You just seemed to be thinking a whole lot back there. What is in your mind?”

“Nothing really important. It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, I’ve got some bad news for you then, mate. Because it will matter to me. You can tell me anything, Forever.”

And for a moment the other considered not doing that. Teleporting away or brushing his worries with another topic or a joke. But that was Philza.

Philza, one of the most protective parents who still trusted him with Tallulah when he was away. Philza, who didn’t care about the elections but voted for him anyway. Philza, who trusted him with such a conviction and an unyielding loyalty that Forever had no idea of what he could ever have done to deserve it.

(“You saved my children.” Philza would say if he could listen to him. “You went beyond and further to save everyone’s kids for free over and over so no parent would ever carry the grief of losing them again. You did it for Richarlyson, for Tallulah, for Bobby, for Pomme, for you, for us, for free. I’m not forgetting that easily and I’m not letting you forget too.”)

And that was enough.

He stared at the beach again, the words coming easier when he was not looking at the other.

“Talullah was the one who decorated the restaurant. We were having a Karaoke Night and when we got up here she had already put all those nice trees and pretty flowers…It looks really nice.”

Philza sighed, looking ten thousands of years older.

“Yeah, she has an amazing taste.” Then he walked and stayed right in front of Forever’s view, staring right at his eyes, serious. “We’re going to find them, ok? Richas, Talullah, Chayanne, Ramon… Every single one, we’re going to get them back. So don’t let yourself give up and stay focused.”

The president, his friend, nodded.

“We will get them back.” Forever agreed. “No matter what it costs.”

[~*~]

But Philza was a discreet fella, so things continued to be shown in tiny ways for a while. A poke when he got too distracted and his thoughts too dark, a scribble to get his attention, a sweep of feathers when he refused to stop working so much and listen to the reason. Forever pretended to be annoyed, but the fact that the other cared so much and in such a playful way kept fishing fond smiles and amused chuckles out of him and that he couldn’t ignore.

His cute secret was secure with him, and so things took a while before it began escalating, all because of a different afternoon…

It started with a jumpscare.

“FOREVER!”

“PUTA MERDA!” (“HOLY SHIT!”) The loud shout quickly descended in a series of nervous giggles. The blond holding his chest and resting in a wall to not fall, muscles trembling with the sudden shot of adrenaline.

It took a couple of minutes for him to get back his composure and glare at the demon that was still snickering gleefully at him, tail swooping around in delight as he jumped around.

It took exactly one second.

In a blink Forever was getting his soul back to his body and then in the other he was throwing himself at him and both were rolling on the floor in a mess of pushes and kicks. “Tu se acha engraçadão, hein? Tu se acha muito engraçadão. Palhaço! Tá palhaço demais, hein, Badboyhalo.” (“You think you’re so funny, yeah? You think you’re so funny. You clown! You’re being such a clown, huh, Badboyhalo.”)

Forever didn’t care that his wrestling was uncoordinated enough so most hits didn’t even land on his friend, different from Bad that actually got more than one or two kicks right before letting himself be lost in a mix of too joyfully complains of “unfair attack” and “dictator” to have any true heat in them.

Their playful fight was kept for a few pieces of a while before they were too distracted by their own amusement to not let the other go and try to recompose themselves.

“Where! is! it!”

“What?” Forever asked, staring with confused eyes at the black demon who crossed his arms and squinted at him in what Forever could swear was an annoyed composure if it wasn’t the way his tail swayed around and his eyes glinted in glee. Whether it was for being so unclear and successfully confusing the blond or for the original reason he appeared there in the first place it wasn’t clear.

For a moment his eyes unfocused from the form of the other and watched the wall full of kind, heartwarming messages that he asked for everyone still awake at that night to write so he could make BadboyHalo a surprise. Suddenly all the pieces came together in his mind and formed such a cute picture that Forever couldn’t help but let out a delighted chuckle, lips curling in an amused, teasing smirk. “Ooooh, I see what you’re talking about now, Badboy.”

That chuckles almost became a crackle when the only response he received was a petulant huff and a hand extended in his direction, fingers twitching impatiently. Forever took out his backpack, rummaging through it until he found the compartment where he kept all his flowers, carefully pushing Richa’s favorite one aside so he could pull another one. His fingers clasped around a stem and soon a light purple grazed his sight. “Here. Your daily flower. It’s for until you get better, right?”

“Oh, nice, thank you.” Bad’s voice tinted with a softer tune, carefully gathering the gift and putting it on his own backpack, in a special place, together with the others, before his tune became agitated again, feet tapping on the floor with energy. “But that is NOT what I am talking about.” He got closer and repeatedly began slapping his arm, following the president when he shouted and started running around the enclosed space, jumping in attempts to escape from the sudden attack. “WHERE IS IT! GIVE ME, IT’S MINE!”

“What! What more do you want from me!” When no answer was given besides more chasing and (friendly) hitting, the blonde got the warpstone with an exaggerated sigh.

“You know, Badboyhalo,” when Forever said his entire name, it wasn’t exactly sing-songing, but it had a little beat painted with amusement and tease, when the demons haven’t been able to successfully annoy him out of his mind, of course. “I really need to go, man, and since you don’t have anything to say to me… tsk, that is so sad, man, I was really feeling quite… generous today”

“No!” The demon tried to grab his shoulder, but the blonde dodged swiftly, still pretending to be looking busy and thinking hard about his next location. “Forever. Do not. You’re not running away. I know what you’re doing!” Forever smiled.

Being friends with Cellbit, you learned a thing or two. Like how to disappear in the middle of a conversation, but, especially, how to do that in the most annoying way possible. “No, no, no, I’m not running away at all, Bad, I am actually…”

However, that was the thing: Bad was also Cellbit’s friend, and so realized the exact moment that glint filled the president’s brown eyes what was about to happen. His hand flew in another attempt of a grab, missing once again his shoulder when the other, a bit later than last time, dodged, which allowed his reflex to kick in and his hand changed the trajectory and lay on the brazilian’s side, squeezing.

None of them was prepared for the squeal that this action fished.

For a second, a blissful second, everything froze and both stared at each other.

That is how Forever saw the exact second the demon’s eyes squinted and a playful flame alighted in them.

In a blink his other hand also flew to his waist and began attacking both sides with no mercy. Forever had no chance to even try to stop the barking loud laughter that exploded from him, immediately letting go of the warpstone to clue on Bad’s wrists, trying to push them away by sheer reflex even before his brain could process what was happening.

“Nonono, stop that! BA-ad!”

Bad couldn’t help but giggle, half adoring and half malefically, at the way the laughter made most of his words get almost intelligible. Besides, Bad thinks he could grow accustomed to having his name being snickered in such an adoring - together with that cute smile and shiny eyes - way more often, really.

His fingers poked and prodded with skill and curiosity, looking for any sensitive spot that could create a new fun sound and concentrating there for a few maddening seconds and plenty of digging before looking for the next one. There was a very nice one juuust above his lowest rib that made the barking laughter become a string of snickers that seemed to grow higher and faster by the seconds. It almost made Bad forget his main job now as his friend and rival the second (actually, even before that, if he was being honest, but honesty was overrated) he discovered that little fun secret about their dear tyrant:

Tease him out of his mind.

“Huh? Stop what, Foreverrr?” “That! You’re ti-” Bad closed his hands in fists and pressed his knuckles on his ribs and rubbed as if his life depended on it, cutting the rest of the sentence with success and filling the room with much more shrieks than before. “What was that?”

Forever couldn’t answer, his legs were failing and it made him get close to a fall if it wasn’t for the demon adjusting his hold on him and slowly lowering him to the ground, fingers still dancing in each and every rib, scratching and scribbling happily.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear what you’re saying, some muffinhead is laughing their heart out near here. Perhaps they heard a very good joke. Hmmm, what do you think Forever?”

Forever snorted, eyes almost closed with how much he was laughing, tears beginning to collect in the corner of his eyes. A few portuguese words got tangled with his crackling. Bad nodded seriously and slowed his tickle attack, not wanting to go too far.

“Uh hm, no, I get what you’re putting down here. We just need to ignore the laughter and keep up our nice conversation. I think that is a great idea!” He snuggled his hands cozily under Forever’s armpits, lightly wiggling and poking, which resulted in the laughter becoming a new dance of a calmer, but still high with adrenaline and mirth, string of snickers that made the blonde’s shoulders bounce in joy. “What were you saying before?”

“Stop tickling me!” “What!” Bad gasped in offense. “How can you even accuse me like that! What the fudge, I thought we were friends. But, no, I see. I came aaaaall the way over here, did nothing wrong and you just treat me like that.” He gave a fake sniff. “You’re hurting my feelings, Forever.” “Mentiroso!” (Liar!) It was quite difficult to see with tears and squinted eyes, especially when Bad’s hoodie always kept his expressions hidden, however, it was even harder to miss how those shiny eyes glinted with mischief and fondness and his smirk went from one ear to another.

It was quite the sweet sight. Forever had to push his face away before it made him blush vomit.

(For a second, he could almost swear that the blue that covered the other’s figure dimmed a little for a piece of time.)

“You’re such a liar.”

“Oh why, thank you.”

Bad freed his hands and softly attacked the back of the elf’s ears, still too lost in the lovely sound of his delightful giggles, crackles and snickers to actually let him go. That was the true sound of Forever’s happiness, not that forced, explosive laughter created by those pills.

Besides, Forever also wasn’t pushing him away.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one missing that freeing sound. Maybe Forever also longed for those moments of playful fights between them, of pushing the buttons and teasing and caring and always, always being there, for the better or the worse.

Eventually, the president held his hands and stopped the attack, left over giggles still pouring from his lips like a waterfall.

Their eyes met.

Forever’s smile got relaxed and small before growing bigger.

Bad just hummed, tail starting to sway fastly from side to side.

“So, Badboyhalo…”

“Yes?”

Forever’s grip got more firm.

Bad’s pull got equally stronger.

They kept smiling.

“Are you… uh.” His voice lost the undertone of playfulness, brown eyes focusing with true curiosity for a moment. “Coceguento? How is it in english? Tickly?”

“Oh, it’s ticklish. For example, you are very ticklish, Forever.”

“Hehehe,” he snorted, and his curiosity was satisfied. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. But what about you, Badboyhalo? Are you… ticklish?” The word came slowly and playfully, tinted with a nice accent.

Bad’s tail opened his backpack, rummaging in search for a very specific item.

“Hmmm… no, actually. I’m not.”

The blonde’s smile got more dangerous. “I don’t know… I don’t believe in you, man.” He found it.

Bingo.

“Then why don’t you try to find out?”

Forever pulled him closer and with a swift move the enderpearl that had been in his bag was thrown to the other side of the room, successfully freeing the demon from his hold. Not a second later, though, Forever was jumping on his feet, ready for another chase.

Lots of laughter filled the afternoon, that day.

[~*~]

After that, the avian wasn’t the only one who now randomly poked, prodded and attacked the outgoing brazilian when he wasn’t expecting, anymore. Even though Badboyhalo’s attacks were much more out of the blue, following him in those lonely afternoons when he was distracted in his adventures or too lost in a project to realize the other invaded his base in the middle of a sleepless night.

But, you see, the difference between Philza and Bad and knowing that Forever is actually pretty ticklish is a very single detail: Bad is a fucking gossiper who loved to set chaos just to see where it would go.

And, therefore, the main reason why Forever was so screwed right now.

“NÃO! SAI, SAI, SAI. LARGA DE MIM!” (NO! GET AWAY, GET AWAY, GET AWAY. LET ME GO!)

“Que isso, moço, tá fugindo da gente por que?” (What is this, bro? Why are you running away from us?)

Forever didn’t even have to turn around to see Mike’s giant smug grin. It was almost palpable in his tune. But if anyone could have any doubt about its existence, they just needed to listen to his crackles as both him and Pac chased their friend through the Spawn, leaving a very amused Bad and Bagi, who shouted a “Boa sorte aí, Forevinho!” (Good luck, Forevinho!) in the wind behind.

“Pois é, a gente só quer um abraço apertado do nosso presida da galera! Cadê o espírito da Favela Six?” (That’s right. We just want a tight hug from our favorite president! Where’s the Favela’s six spirit?) Pac, however, questioned with a genuine tune, almost naive like as he followed the other closely, getting closer and closer by the seconds. For a moment he almost tricked the president into thinking that he was the merciful one, then he remembered about that one tickle fight he, Mike and Tubbo had in the Favela.

Let’s just say it was just a very quick thought, really.

“Favela six é o caralho, ceis querem é me roubar. Eu já disse que não vai ter Armazém da Galera nenhum! Isso é ataque à autoridade, hein!” (Favela Six my ass, you just want to rob me. I already said that there won’t be any Free Storage! This is an attack on authority!)

“A gente só quer o que é nosso por direito, Forevin.” (We just want what is faithfully ours, Forevin.)

The blonde didn’t even have a chance to answer before an arm grabbed his shoulder and pushed, disbalancing him enough so Pac was able to sneak behind him and lock him in a hug, snickering gleefully in his ear.

“Que isso, cara, achava que tu era compromissado! Vou falar pro Fit, hein!” (The hell, man! I thought you were compromised! I’m going to tell Fit!) Forever’s struggles only grew stronger when he saw Mike getting closer, wiggling his hands in the form of claws as he stopped running and instead began to approach slowly, chuckles falling freely from his lips and making shivers run across his spine and giggles to pile in his chest.

He tried again to free himself from the hug, showing no success. Pac’s hold was firm as a mountain.

“E desde quando que tu tá malhando? Tá todo mamadíssimo aí, né, eu tô sabendo.” (And since when you’re ripped? You’re all ‘mamadíssimo’ now. I see what’s going on.)

Pac let out an amused, with drops of shyness, snort. “Pois é, né, moço. Sabe como é né… Tô indo na academia do Fit bastante esses tempos e tudo mais, aí dá nisso.” (That is right, bro. You know how it is… I’m visiting Fit's Gym a lot these last days and that is what happens.) His tune lost a bit of the light and became more serious, cracked in the corners. “Também, né, a gente nunca sabe quando vai precisar. Eu não quero que quando chegue a hora…” (Also, we don’t know when we’re gonna need it. I don’t want that, when the time comes…)

Forever knew exactly what he was talking about, the same cloudy thoughts that filled everyone’s mind in the island the second he warned that the kids had ran away because a danger greater than everything they’ve seen before was coming, the Federation choosing to announce the train station’s opening in just a few days also did not help their nerves.

He looked at Pac’s shadows under his eyes, suddenly remembering that his friend also went under the Happy Pills Treatment, the horrible withdrawal, the exhaustion of recovery, all to save him.

His struggles became just a little, a little less strong, heart melting and hurting like it did for every single member of their dysfunctional family since they arrived in that boat.

The scientists deserved to have their own silly fun, even if the fun was destroying their friend and president in a mess full of giggling pieces.

And so Forever let out a loud laughter, wiggling his eyebrows and giving him a knowing smirk. “Tu tá praticando bastante exercício com o Fit é? Aham, hehehe, tô sabendo.” (Doing a lot of exercise with Fit, yeah? Uh hm. Hehehe, I see.)

“FOREVER!” This time the snort that came out from Forever’s mouth was more of a result of Pac's unfairly squeezing his belly non stop instead of a reaction to the affronted shout, the one with blue hoodie not throwing any other remark or getting lost in any dark thought. The blonde counted that as a win for him.

“Tá bem engraçadinho, mas você não vai conseguir me distrair. Sabe, o Badboy me falou algo muito interessante sobre você que ele descobriu mês passado…” (You think you’re being funny, huh. But you’re not going to distract me. You know, Badboy told me something very interesting about you that he discovered last month…)

Mike finally got right in front of him and Forever immediately started kicking in his direction to keep those offending fingers away from his torso at the same time that he continued to attempt to pry Pac’s hands - that somehow seemed to sense the exact spots he was the most sensitive and concentrate all their pinches, scribbles and tickly efforts on them over and over again - until the attack forced Forever to press his lips on his shoulder to contain the blossoming laughter and embarrassing squeals that tried to escape from his mouth.

His efforts to not let any sound out, however, were demolished when, in his distraction, Mike grabbed his ankle and grinned like a shark that finally got his prey.

“Eu preferia uma mãozinha, mas já que é isso que você tá oferecendo…” (I’d rather you gave me a hand, but since you’re offering…) And, locking the leg in a headlock, his fingers began dancing across his sole, walking around his arch and giving some special attention to the extremely ticklish space right under his toes, skillfully dodging any kicks that this move resulted in and breaking Forever’s barriers instantly.

Forever’s booming laughter filled the air in a free dance of joy, mirth and a warmth that filled his heart when he remembered just how long had it been since all of them could just get together and goof around a bit, no kidnappings or imminent dangers in their minds for a blissful pieces of time.

[~*~]

“Soooo, guys, I think I’m heading out, now.” Forever kept jumping on the trampoline, restless energy running on his veins after talking to Phil about his journey in the Nether. The virus hadn’t spread a lot those last days, but the conversation was hard, not only because of how, primarily, exhausting it was to go through all of it, but because for some reason something in him made he almost feel compelled to shut his mouth and not say a single word about the infection to anyone else.

They played and gave each other a few remarks and pokes of fun when Philza asked for Forever to take off his shirt in the bunker, careful touches analyzing the skin around the ébano substance glued on his back and in the nape of his head. Even so, it made the blonde want to hide away the result of his journey. Forever never have been ashamed of his body. He used to walk around shirtless, on the good old, first days on the island, afterall. But if he was being honest... he was afraid about that infection, and Philza didn’t seem very relieved about it either.

It was a literal mark about how he had failed in absolutely every single sense and chance he had out there. In finding any clue, in getting their kids back, in saving Walter Bob or even himself. In the end, he was not able to do any of this.

That is the President of Quesadilla Island, everyone.

(“We’re going to talk with Cucurucho and demand answers about what the fuck is this.”

Forever gave a humorless chuckle, happy that the children were outside playing so they weren’t here to witness how defeated he sounded for a second before adjusting himself to a playful grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, Philza, he is very good at this. Giving us answers, right?”

“We have to try. If someone knows about this it is the Federation.” Philza brushed the other’s sarcastic ‘há!’ easily and moved until he was right in front of the brazilian, capturing his eyes in a firm stare. “And if they don’t have anything, we’re going to find our own answers.”

Forever nodded, not really believing.

“You worry too much, my friend.”

“Exactly. I already told you but I will repeat it until it gets through your thick skull: I always will worry and I’m not leaving you side, mate.”

For a moment words escaped from his tongue, a mix of feelings of ‘safe’, ‘happy’ and ‘embarrassment’ filled his chest before he got a hold of his senses.

“Alright, alright, alright.”

This time, when he smiled there was a light back into his brown, tired eyes.

“You know, Philza, you really need to get over me, man. The line continues, I’m already moving forward and you still try to romance me, it’s- what is the word? Oh, embarrassing, hehehe”

The avian took advantage of his position to hit the other upside his head, a surprise snort being fished from his lips.

“Oho, shut the fuck up. You’re the one who is still on this!”)

And yeah, maybe he was just making a strategic retreat after showing vulnerability, but who could blame him, really? No one, that’s who. He would be out before they did try.

“Come on, Richas, vamo de Megabase.” (Let’s go to Megabase) He called, getting out of the trampoline when the boy kept painting and paid him no mind. Tallulah, however, stopped writing on a book to go to him, Chayanne turned to look from his place next to the grill nearby, already testing a new recipe.

The girl placed a sign and stared at him with attentive eyes, lips firmly pressed in a shadow of disappointment. ‘You already going?’

(God. He really missed the sound of little steps and signs being placed. They missed it all so much.)

Forever internally winced. He really didn’t spend a lot of time with Chay and Talullah since they’re back, letting them enjoy more time with Phil and just making quick check ins once in a while. He also took the last days to spend as much time as he could with Richas, afterall.

“Yeah... sorry, Talullah, but me and Richas still have to finish our project, right Richas?”

Still no answer from the younger one, too concentrated in every stroke to pay the conversation any mind.

Forever chuckled, sensing a chance for some mischief. Cleaning his throat, he lifted his voice from the usual soft tune he always used with Tallulah to a more taunting tune, making it louder so Richas could listen perfectly well.

“Ohhh, but maybe you can go and help me to make it, right, Talullah? You’re such a nice, helpful egg who listens to your parents when they call you, just like Chayanne. Richarlyson could take some examples from his older siblings more, tsk.” The president had to hold the snickers when he saw the red cow head stop and slowly, threateningly slowly, turn around to face him, Richas letting go of the brush to squint their eyes at him. Talullah and Chayanne rolled their eyes, amused, already used to the playful banters between father and son. “But ahh, he just never listens. Oooh, I have an idea! While Tallulah helps me with the decoration, Chayanne, you can go too and make your delicious barbecue there to keep us- AH!”

The surprised shout was a direct result for when the younger launched himself at his father in protest and began roughhousing immediately, both descending in growls and portuguese for a few couple of minutes before Forever laid a satisfied Richas on the floor, who immediately placed a sign.

‘Pai, stop. I’m making Pepito’s birthday present, let me finish it >:0 we can go Mebase later :D’

“Ok, ok, I get it, I get it. You like Pepito more than your own father. Yeah, yeah, no Richas, no, I get it.” He began fake sniffing and making crying noises, leading to a Richas kicking his leg in a clear message of ‘stop the dramatics’ before going back to the canvas. “Ok, ok, warn me when you finish your drawing then, we can stay a little more.”

The three kids danced in excitement.

(...)

He is not sure how exactly he had ended up in this position.

Talullah and Chayanne were secure and cozy his arms, half because of a poke of fun at Philza that started with a joke ten minutes ago and they just kept it running and half as a parting hug that was stiffly (but still very carefully) answered by Chayanne and warmly by Tallulah. Forever enthusiastically squeezed and hugged them even tighter. A bit jealous of how Philza could shield them both with his wings during their own hugs and how he could only wish that his arms would be strong enough to defend them when the time comes.

“OK, now it’s for real. Richas, let’s go!”

But, when Richarlyson appeared in front of him, paints and canva already put inside his backpack, his smile had a different tint in it and, between his curls, Forever could recognize the flame that always appeared when that kid’s inner demon - not his terrifying artistic alter ego, though, the general demon that lives inside every rascal kid - woke in search of chaos.

He immediately became wary.

‘Chay, Talluh, can I tell you a secret about Pai Forever? 0-0’

Both siblings immediately nodded.

“Ohh, gossip. I like, I like.” Philza snorted at the affronted look in Forever’s face.

“Vai contar nada, vai contar nada, seu muleque atentado! Nem sei o que tu vai falar, mas não vai falar não. Que que é isso, Richarlyson, tá se virando contra o seu próprio pai?” (You’re telling nothing, you’re telling nothing, you absolute brat. I don’t even know what you’re about to say but you’re telling nothing. What is it, Richarlyson, are you turning against your own dad?)

During the entire scold Richas kept jumping around in circles with the utmost, simple delight, wiggling his body and tail in sync in front of Forever, as if daring him to let go of the other two eggs to go and actually catch him, like a cat looking deep into your eyes before throwing the cup right off your table.

He put a sign on the ground.

‘Pai Forever is absurdly, awfully, very, very, ticklish. And it’s so funny because he always agrees to give us anything when we tickle attack him at home.'

“WHAAAAAT! RICHARLYSON, TU VAI FICAR DE CASTIGO, SEU OVO SAFADO. VAI PASSAR O RESTO DA VIDA NAQUELE CASTELO ASSOMBRADO LÁ DO TEU PAI CELLBIT. VOU CHAMAR O ELMARIANA PRA PUXAR TEU PÉ DE NOITE” (RICHARLYSON, YOU’RE GOING TO GET GROUNDED, YOU RASCAL. YOU’RE GOING TO SPEND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE IN YOUR DAD CELLBIT’S HAUNTED CASTLE. I’M GOING TO CALL ELMARIANA TO PULL YOUR FEET IN THE NIGHT.)

His kid, his beautiful, beautiful baby boy that he would explode the entire island for and go through the literal hell all over again if it meant that he would be finally safe, only looked at him in a confused expression - as if the lil shit just couldn’t tell why his dear pai was running away from him as he tried to get closer - and began following his steps as Forever tried to put distance between them, holding Chayanne and Talullah the farthest away from his torso that he could while the two squirmed trying to escape and attack.

In the end his back ended up hitting the tree and, without being able to get his items to flee, he had nowhere to go.

“Wait, wait, wait, don-” A chortle escaped the very exact moment Richas began drilling on his sides, making Forever want to bounce up and down with the sudden tickly energy that shot through his entire body, leaving his mouth with a big, dazzling smile and his arms to fall in an attempt to protect himself from the tickling, which inevitably brought the other children close and sealed his fate.

Tallulah was bold, briefly looking at his face for any sign of discomfort before carefully shoving her claws under his armpit, scratching the ticklish skin with ease, but for the loud shriek that this resulted one could think that she just unlocked a full, unmerciful on a tickle attack.

Chayanne took a bit longer, giving his surroundings and sky a wary look, as if a monster would appear the very second he lowered his guard, only to end up finding his father’s gaze, who was watching at them with a soft expression and nodding encouragingly. The little (way to young) warrior relaxed and also took the job of scribbling, encircling and digging (just the tiniest bit, he had to be mindful about his claws after all) the other armpit, fish just more squeals and plenty of gleeful laughter with that.

Forever felt like he was about to jump out of his skin, his body going crazy at the ‘it tickles, it tickles so so much!’ feeling while his brain was still caught in the need to not move around too much to not hurt any kid with his squirms. All of which ended up with the blonde doing a weird little dance around the spot that brought plenty of giggles and amused snickers from the young ones.

Now, the similarity between Philza and Bad is that, while he wasn’t exactly the one who created it, Philza was more than inclined and wouldn’t necessarily refuse to add to a chaotic situation it if the chance came, if he felt like it.

That is why he stepped close, winking at them. “I think it’s better if you just agree to their terms, Forever.”

“I-I” the adult tried to bite back another giggling fit, but their tickles were so goddamn light and maddening- “I don’t even snk know what thehey want!”

“Just agree to give them anything then.”

Forever shook his head. He knew his son enough to understand how much of a pain in the ass that decision could become.

“Needing more convincing? Well, kids, you saw it.”

“Filho da puta-” (Son of a bitch-), and Forever threw his head backwards in more laughter, more squeaks, more half squirms.

Now, Philza may not know Portuguese. However, six months sharing an island with 7 brazilians and plenty of reasons to swear taught him well what some words meant. He snorted, half amused and half affronted.

“Do NOT swear in front of the children.” Then, a wicked grin was formed in his expression.“You know what? I think the eggs need a little help.”

Forever’s eyes got wide when he saw the avian stepping close, cracking his fingers, making an electric shiver run across his spine and spread through his nerves, making his fingertips tingle with adrenaline and anticipation.

His legs tensed in preparation for the chase, unfortunately, his son knew him too well.

In a blink Richarlyson threw himself on his legs and hugged them, successfully stopping him from even trying to escape. And those extra pieces of time were all that Philza needed. As fast as he was to defend and attack, he positioned himself right in front of the president, firmly pressing his shoulder to the tree and not really, truly, preventing him from escaping, but successfully securing him in place, in the same time.

“Ok, kids, what I know for a fact is that his neck is a very bad spot…” He demonstrated it by lightly tracing and wiggling his nails on said place, all of the dragon hybrids watching attentively as the action made Forever lose himself in a sea of snickers and yelps, a stronger reaction only coming out when two more tiny hands got mixed in the fun when Chayanne and Talullah tried mirroring their dad.

“But a spot that could make him cave…” Philza hummed before turning to the young one with a red mushroom cow head. “What do you think, Richarlyson? His hips or the back of his ribs?”

Richas looked at his dad.

At how dark have been the circles under his eyes since he came back, at how he kept chatting with the islanders but never truly talking to them, how he always kept running off to another project or meeting, always saying that Richas was his son and his best friend and the only one he could trust when they got caught up in the middle of the night building and decorating his base.

He saw how, until now, he hadn’t run away. Through the teases, the attacks and tickles, he stayed.

And so, he smirked.

Placed a sign.

‘Both?’

“Geez, I’m never getting into a tickle fight with you, mate.” Even so, the avian reflected his smirk right back at him and both turned to look at Chayanne and Talullah, who nodded in understanding and placed their claws on the back of his ribs.

“Nononono! Wait!” Philza placed his free hand on his hips, thumb pressing the spot right above the bone, the palm resting on the back of his spine. Forever’s speech became more high pitched and much faster, with nervous, delirious chuckles already spilling and spinning in the air. “None of you said what you wanted from me! That is not justo, uh, just, huh, fair! Calma aí, come on, wait, wait, wait!”

They did not, in fact, wait.

For a second, once again, everything else in the world disappeared. There were no code monsters, no Federation, no Purgatory or anything else but the warm, electric feeling of fingers and claws prodding, pinching and scratching that took over his entire senses, making his laughter ring free in a song composed of yelps, shrieks, squeals and snickers that filled the air. There was nothing else but the fun, the joy and the warmth of a careful touch and silly taunting smiles that his heart melt with care over and over again.

In the end, after more laughter, plenty of teasing and lots of snorts, they finally agreed to ask him to visit them again after a couple of days for a nice picnic. A request which, in between leftover chuckles, plenty complains and a few gleeful tears, Forever agreed, a plan of vengeance already forming in his brain.

#Ler!Philza #Ler!Tallulah #Ler!Bad #Ler!Richarlyson #qsmp tickling #Ler!Chayanne #Ticklish!Forever #Ler!Pac #Ler!Mike #I loved the idea of Philza using his feathers for evil tickly purposes ok like PLEASE it has so much potential!!!#Also I didn't add a tickle scenario with Cellbit and Forever and yeah I am sad too but I couldn't imagine it so :(#Very sad face the divorced keep losing :(#cheer up tickles #I don't think Tallulah and Chayanne were too true to their character here but I tried. I only started watching Phil's pov recently :")#Phil and Forever at every second around each other: he is so not over me like god that is so embarrasing how much he still wants me geez #Bad and Forever actively annoying each other gives me so much happiness like <3 <3 <3 yeah yeah get insufferable plssss #Look I am all but a simply person who LOVES hurt/comfort and an entire arc that showed us one of my faves characters going thro hell and-#-being SAVED by his friends and family who literally refused to let him lost himself no matter how much he was forced to push them away?#HECK YEAH #Look look I still lay awake in my bed thinking about Phil saying 'Forever. I know you would've never agreed to that if it wasn't for a-#-good reason' and Forever laughing and saying 'That is the funny part Philza. I never agreed to anything!!'#And he saying that he promised to Chay that he would protect Tallulah no matter what and then he starts laughing 'Isn't that funny Phil?'#AUGH #And don't even get me STARTED about his and Cellbit's screaming match in the end OWWW HOW CAN THEY BE SO GOOD AT RP FUCK MEEEE #Also yeah I am actively ignoring what is happening in canon rn while still adding the virus to my fic like we give them the ol razzle dazzl #qsmp tickles #Kanene's fanfic #Kanene's fic

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boxwinebaddie · 9 months

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Wsg queen, I have a slightly nsfw question (I’m ashamed this is why it’s anon) sooo, I need to know what the situation with the hickeys is, like a scenario where Sheila sees Kyle with one!! Or a AU where Stan and Kyle have to keep their relationship a secret

Anyways love u Nina!!!

wsg queen ( or whatever monarch your gender expression suits, i was just mirroring you ) i have a slightly nsfw answer, lmaoooo! just kidding, it is very tame and nothing i wouldn't write into pep, tbh. they like...lightly elude to things...but i am a woman of class, i swear!

side note: i think it's really funny that you guys are worried about your identities and sending in anons because...if i am honest...i have almost no idea who each of you are just based on your tumblr urls. like, i can kind of guess, but i'm still convinced i will be wrong haha!

anyways, i am a show not tell writer girlie, so *collective surprised gasp* i wrote something...which really is just dialogue and occasionally some written action because i got too lazy to finish it...again * second surprised collective gasp* SHOCKER!

i kind of fused both together for you. i swear to god it's not risque, tumblr leave me alone, bitch! they are just a little spicy and make out a little in the beginning and flirt a lot! but mostly they are just bickering like an old married because they are! young and not married but also old and married when they are dating!!!!

like if anything it got sad for a minute there...yeesh! lighten up, nina!

but here you go, i hope this answers your morally and sexually dubious ask message. please...again...laugh. help. *jazz hands*

( also no none of this is spelled right, who do u think i am?!

edit: please be nice to me, i forgot to mention i wrote half of this on my bathroom floor, alternating k.pedialyte, apple sauce and crackers fighting food poisoning...always make sure to check your burgers are cooked all the way through my darlings! if they are half baked like my brain...you will be sick! and not in the cool way, i fear! xoxo - nina )

Any exit through the passenger side door of Stan’s steel blue Toyota Prius had been rendered inoperable by a tall, lanky redhead that had been pushed up against the inside of it by the boy that owned the vehicle, but belonged endlessly to the other boy…whose cherry-flavored chapstick he was now wearing and spreading quite liberally and lasciviously across hungrily boy-bitten lips. It had been a ‘Good Luck’ kiss which, of course, had turned into several, resulting in a Good Luck M a k e o u t session, that was progressing as quickly as the faux blonde's hands and mouth were, up the slope of Kyle’s cheek, down the slant of his jaw, before landing with great care…

…wear and tear…on…

“Mmmmmmmm. I—St—Stan, my neck! My neck! MY N E C K!”

Once the heavenly mint-scented mist that was clouding his sound, future lawyer judgment and the dirty window behind his wild auburn hair, which Stan was whispering sweet-spicy nothings into, Kyle swerved hard, taking a rigid right into the front of the dash before all Hell broke loose, nearly breaking said neck in the process.

“Hmmmm…Your neck, your neck, your ne~”

Stan had worshiped against supple, spotted skin before being disengaged from his place of prayer with a loud POP! and sailing straight into the seatbelt, now smeared with spearmint.

As he got his bearings, the breathless boy had made a disappointed and surprised sound somewhere near the sharp shoulder blade of his super best boyfriend -- who was currently being super lame -- and sassed with exasperation, crossing his arms over his chest -- across which were the dark green and white emboldened letters of Kyle’s last name and jersey number.

And while Kyle constantly reprimanded Stan for stealing his clothes…Stan constantly countered that he would return his best friend’s clothes if his boyfriend returned his stolen heart to him…

…No such luck.

“Excuse me! I wasn’t done!”

Stan had tried to argue ( complained, really ), attempting to resume his passionate, very handsome, very angry, personal art project, which earned him a swift, punitive pinch from the other boy’s hand which Kyle had flattened over the empty place where Stan’s alleged ‘stolen heart’ used to be as he banished him back to the driver’s seat ( and Super Best Boyfriend Jail ) for his indecency and insolence with steam practically billowing out of his ears and his jaw twitching aggressively.

Kyle Broflovski spoke slowly and sternly, if only to keep his breathing even enough to speak.

“...If you just did what I THINK you just did: you are v e r y done.

Done for.”

Then, reaching up towards the rearview mirror, Kyle tilted it towards him with a flinch, screwing his eyes harshly shut in silent, stalking fear, before mustering up the courage and constitution to look at his reflection with his eyes…which fell wide open with his jaw at the sore sight. Literally.

“Ohhhhh my FUCKING—“

Suddenly flooded with dread and horror, Kyle suctioned a hand over his mouth to trap the rest of that scream…and several obscenities as he turned his head towards Stan with a pained, robotic stiffness and a voice so frighteningly hospital sterile that was ten times scarier than him yelling.

“S t a n.”

The 'Stan' in mention…and trouble…( **again )…gulped loudly before smiling nervously over at his boyfriend, who looked particularly murderous ( and ravishing, unfortunately ) at that heated moment, before resting his chin on his hands…which he formed into a heart shape. Oops.

“...Yes, baby?”

Stan’s parked car SHOOK with the intensity of Kyle Broflovski’s crescendoing anger and disbelief.

“YOU GAVE ME A FUCKING HICKEY!?”

Stan played with the rings on his left hand. And dumb.

“Oh, myyyyy bad! Did you want another one? I know symmetry is good for your OCD.”

Flirting, however, did not work the way it usually did in this situation and actually ended up hurting him as Kyle slammed the lever of Stan’s leaned back driver’s seat forward and watched as it WHACKED! him right in the back of his head.

Served him right.

“OW! KYLE!” Stan whined morosely, cradling the back of his head like he hadn’t nearly cracked it several times in the mosh pit carelessly last weekend.

“STANLEY MARSH.” Kyle pronounced with spine-chilling severity, as for one minute of mercy, Kyle tore his glare off of Stan, who he would certainly tear to shreds soon, as he examined his once pale neck where a large purple bruise now swirled like a giant kiss-swollen black hole.

“Whaaaaat?!” He protested with a pronounced, pepperminty pout, acting angelic and gesturing to Kyle demonstratively as he relayed the crass, cheeky claim of: “I had to sign my masterpiece!”

Then, fashioning his hands into a sectioned square, like he was talking a polaroid picture, Stan framed his 'signature' with a smirk.

“Pretty good, right? Think I should apply to some art schools?”

Kyle…did not return his jest.

Kyle was livid at best as he wiped his sweaty, shaking hands on his freshly-dry cleaned slacks and toyed with the collar of his dress shirt, as the universe and Stanley Marsh toyed with his emotions…and the fate of his academic future with no remorse.

“YOU — I don’t — I don’t even have TIME to strangle you right now! My HARVARD INTERVIEW is in TEN minutes!”

He scathed behind his bared teeth, with his eyes darting between him and the building that bore his fate. Which…someone…had sealed with a kiss.

“Was that today? Ohhhhh nooooo~…” Stan scratched the top of his head and seemed very busy suddenly studying one of millions of rips in his ripped jeans, whistling innocently.

Kyle turned the key into the ignition just to lay on the horn for thirty whole seconds. Stan winced.

“Don’t even TRY IT, bitch! You literally drove me here!”

Kyle took the key out of the ignition, but still made sure to look his boyfriend dead in the eye as he said, with an anger that was sizzling off his skin,

“…But you know what you’re driving me right now?”

Stan fluttered his eyelashes frivolously and flirtatiously.

“…Absolutely wild with desire?”

“CRAZY! IN-FUCKING-SANE!”

“But in a, like, ‘You can’t stop thinking about me and want to kiss me so bad’ way, right?...Riiiight?”

Then, mirroring the prior comedic timing of Kyle yanking the lever to Stan’s seat forward, just as he leaned back, Kyle pulled it, instead, backwards and Stan crashed backwards. Again. He snorted.

“OW! FUCK. OFF! QUIT IT, DUDE!”

“I will when you quit S t a n - b o t a g i n g my COLLEGE INTERVIEWS!”

“I did NOT!” “If I was going to Stanbotage your college interview…I would have given you waaaaay more.” “Which there is still time for, by the way! I can get a lot done in ten minut—“

Stan tried to lean over the center console to finish what he had started, but Kyle deflected him with his long arms and a sheet…well, a brick really…of printed papers that had 170 possible interview questions and possible answers on it…that Kyle had researched religiously.

“Ah, ah, AH! Nice try! Stay back, you succubus!” He raised his nerdy script like it was a lit torch. “You have done more than e n o u g h.”

Then…Kyle hit the panic button, hypothesizing hyper-pathetically, vibrating with stress and anxiety.

“OhmygodOhmygodOhmyGOD! What am I going to tell them?! Sorry, Harvard! I was just minding my own business when I was tonsil-tackled by our hormonal high school football captain! Or—or that I was viciously ATTACKED by a really hot, fake blonde part-time record store employee, who also happens to be my full-time secret boyfriend who also decided to BRAND ME LIKE CATTLE BEFORE MY EXTREMELY IMPORTANT COLLEGE INTERVIE—“

Stan chimed in for…what would possibly be his last time. Ever. On Earth. He held up a pretty boy peace sign, hoping it would deter the violence that his words were about to incur upon him.

“…Sorry, ADHD. I only caught the part in the middle about you thinking I’m really hot.” “But will you say it again, anyways?”

Kyle h i s s e d and Stan blew a kiss in his direction. It was their regular call and response.

“You could always…put me down as a reference…for an extracurricular activity.” He offered generously.

Kyle narrowed his eyes at his super best friend turned super worst boyfriend suspiciously.

“You…an extracurricular activity?”

“Yeah, y-you know!”

Stan snapped his fingers with false confidence, rattling off as many large, impressive vocabulary words as he could remember…with…strange but surprising accuracy.

“O-One that requires…dedicated…t-team building, s-sometiiiimes…arduous…pun…punctilious! Uh! T-Time management…The…the bolstering of efficacious intrapersonal…relationships…vigorous cardiovascular exercise and…uh...Flexibility?”

Kyle studied Stan, dream boy, nightmare boy, in stunned silence for a while…somewhere between deep adoration and admonition.

“Okay…Very…good word choice, but very poorly timed execution.”

“That is noooooot what you said last ni—“

“If you value your l i f e, you will NOT finish that sentence.”

Stan smiled, winding right up.

Oh, he had been ready for this one.

“Good thing I don’t!”

Stan shot Kyle a shameless finger gun and wink combo which Kyle re-directed towards his own head, taking off the safety and emptying the imaginary bullets rapidly into his OWN skull, which he looked like he wanted to smash open with the car door.

“You know what? Forget Harvard. What am I going to tell my MOM!?”

“Tell her your ‘really hot’ boyfriend did it.”

Kyle’s eye twitched and his nostril flared as he glared unblinkingly.

“Okaaaaaaaaay, ouch. Tell her your really ugly, hideous boyfriend who you hate did it!”

“Can you please be SERIOUS about this!?”

“Oh, you want me to be serious? Okay: you got it! I think it’s seriously fucking ANNONYING that you are grilling me for ONE hickey when you’ve given me…You like MATH, Kyle! Let’s c o u n t."

Stan's voice took on the excruciating elementary snail pace and nauseating faux-sweetness that would probably be used by Steve on Blues Clues.

"One, twooooo, three…”

“Oh my GOOOOD, St—“

“Four, five —ooh, big fan of five — six…”

“Look, I—“

“Yeah, Let’s L O O K! Let’s take a good, long look because that’s seven, eight….wow, NI…You know we're getting pretty close to Double Digits, are you sure you want me to keep going?”

“Stan…it’s different.”

“Different how? Because you’re smart and I’m not?”

There was a beat of silence just long enough for Stan to beat himself up.

“It’s okay. You can say it. Everyone else already does.”

Kyle’s instinctive overprotectiveness of his SBF gave way to his blind anger.

“NO, it’s NOT! And I told you not to talk about yourself like that! You are Very Smart…B-Bro.”

Stan winced and Kyle felt the full brunt of that ‘Bro’ hit him in the chest. The…B word. The nice, affectionate one was…very easy for Stan to say and rolled off his tongue effortlessly, but felt impossible for Kyle to say, causing him to freeze up and switch every time at the last second.

Ironically, Kyle Broflovski could say words with seventeen syllables in five different languages, but try as he might, he could not gather the courage or vulnerability to call his boyfriend ‘B a b y.’

“ — And also a massive fucking pain in my ass!” He continued, deflecting. “No, it’s different because you can just say they're from Wendy and I…”

Stan exploded, but it was almost all self destructive. His voice was raw and tender like a wound. It made Kyle physically ache to hear it.

“I don’t WANT to say they’re from Wendy! I want to say they’re from Y O U !”

Silence spanned between them and it was worse than p o i s o n.

“The hiding, the sneaking around, the lying…I HATE this shit, Kyle! I fucking hate this!”

“And you think I DON’T?!” He snapped, feeling all his sanity and resolve crumble to ash with it.

“Like I haven’t waited my entire l i f e to date you! Like this isn’t the best thing that has ever happened to me — that you aren’t the best thing that ever happened to me — and I can’t tell anyone? I just have to keep being in love with you a secret like I’ve had to for my ENTIRE LIFE!? You think I want that!?”

The idea was so fucking twisted it made Kyle sick. He had to endure the horrible suffering that was being quietly in love with your best friend since Kindergarten and even though his best friend had finally returned his furtive feelings...he still couldn't be loud about it. But Kyle told himself that holding his tongue was worth holding Stanley Marsh. That holding him in his arms for hours in private was okay even if he couldn't even hold his hand in public for more than a couple seconds.

“It’s just — it’s too complicated right now! Do you know how much harder it’s going to be for you to get football scholarships if…If you and I…If we…People will TALK. Most of my FAMILY will talk! And they have big, stupid, CONSERVATIVE mouths that they will run on Facebook and…”

Stan was not a fighter, but if he was going to fight for something it would be L o v e.

Or, in this case, the love of his life…who was trying to put them six feet in the ground not even six months out the gate.

“...And you don’t think pissing off some of your family members and me losing a couple of dumb football scholarships is worth this?…US?!”

“You KNOW that’s not what I meant! And…AND!”

He huffed, out of breath and out his m i n d as he watched his boyfriend, soon to be ex-boyfriend ( not because they were going to break up but because he was going to be broken up into tiny, indiscernible smithereens by Kyle’s wrath ) rifle through his glove box to procure a small black bag resembling a pencil case, ignoring him.

Oh, he was really going to get it this time.

“And you know WHAT, Stan? This is just LIKE you! You would rile me up and pick a fight with me on The Most Important Day of My Life just to SPITE me and get back at me for something I can’t even fucking CONTROL! You are so CHILDISH! And IRRESPONSIB — And…And on…on top of me, v-very close to my…my face. W-What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry about what I’m doing.” He breezed without a note of explanation as he adjusted his position, which at present was practically straddling his best friend-boyfriend, as he stationed his steady hands over his slender, shaking shoulders to try and lock him into place.

“Just stay still.”

Kyle was incredulous…and also extremely flustered.

At that moment it was very hard for his brain to discern whether he wanted to kiss Stanley Marsh or kill him. But his body was leaning towards that first one. He scoffed, now scarlet.

“No I — I think I will be Very Worried about what you’re doing! Stan, why…why are you…in my LAP!?”

“So I can get the best angle, obviously.”

He rattled off carelessly as he carefully inspected Kyle’s face and neck with the utmost collection and calm.

Which was…hilarious because Kyle was so nervous he thought he might be having a stroke.

“The best angle for WHAT? More s l u t t y, scandalous lip laceration of the skin above my larynx?...Stan, I only have FIVE minutes to salvage what I have left of the raging dumpster fire that is about to be my interview, you cannot SERIOUSLY BE—“

“K.P?”

Stan cooed, stilling Kyle’s body and breathing with his hand as it cupped the side of his face preciously. Reaching up, Stan languidly tucked a ginger curl behind Kyle’s freckled ear and rouge trailed down every blessed spot that Stan’s fingertips had kissed.

“You know I l o v e when you verbally eviscerate me…”

He quipped, using a new vocabulary word, but with a familiar friendly-fire taunt, half teasing, half tender.

“But will you please shut the f u c k up and let me do my thing?”

To which Kyle, did, in fact, shut the fuck up, but mostly because he couldn’t breathe as Stan did his thing…

Which Kyle had learned that day was m a k e u p. Trying to remain staunch in his irritation and not sway or swoon at the gentle, loving ministrations of Stan’s fingers against his skin, or how terribly cute he looked when he was biting his cheek in concentration, humming beautifully under his breath as he worked.

Then, with a snap! of a makeup pallet shut and a zip of his bag closed, Stan had announced…

“There. All done.”

Kyle studied his neck…that now hadn’t had even the whisper of a mark on it, completely shocked as he gawked at his boyfriend, secret best makeup artist and hickey obscurer.

“...Wow. You are freakishly good at that. Like…you can’t even t e l l. Maybe you SHOULD apply to some art schools…”

Stan took a deep breath...solemn and serious and...sorry. He looked up at Kyle sheepishly, stumbling through his apology.

“Ky…” “I’m sorry for…’Stanbotaging’ your college interview.”

“And I’m sorry for yelling at you like that. You can be right…just this once.” “..But let’s not do this right now, okay? Maybe…after my interview, over lunch? When you’re not *nervous kyle throat clearing noise*…over me? Because…I’m not sure if you’re aware but…”

He allowed himself a rare moment of humility and humanity he saved solely for Stan who, Kyle looked up and down indulgently and deliberately.

“You can be a little d i s t r a c t i n g.”

“Been told once or twice. By a credible, red-head-able source.” He winked playfully before hopping off with a frisky lick of mint chip lips.

Stan seemed pretty pleased with that one.

But it was the calm before the storm because, in a flash, Kyle looked like he was going to pull out his hair, literally as he spiraled and backpedaled, head in his hands, fingers knotted into follicles.

“Fuck…I am second guessing this whole thing. I — Stan? What if they don’t LIKE me? What if I’m too awkward…and curly…and mean and…Orange!?”

Stan laughed ( it was a beautiful laugh and smiled it was a beautiful smile, yeah, yeah, yeah, shut up Nina, we know slkhdad )

“It’s true…you are awkward, curly, mean and so, so ‘Orange’.”

He reassured, straightening out Kyle’s tie and massaging his shoulders soothingly.

His voice bore this same low, healing light and gentle, loving lull.

“But you’re also…super funny, ambitious, put-together, independent, awesome and…P e r f e c t. You’re frustratingly perfect at everything you do…Be it…acing college interviews or picking secret super best boyfriends.”

Stan nudged him suggestively with his elbow and wiggled his eyebrow at him -- recently pierced by Kenny, lovely, but a little crooked -- which, bless him, made Kyle laugh and relax a little.

“Harvard…They’d be lucky to have you….South Park is lucky to have you…I’m…lucky to have you.” “I’m usually pretty good at sharing but…Not You.” “You’ve just always been My Kyle Pile, you know? I guess…it just pissed me off that you were going to be Harvard’s Matthew comma, Broflovski, c o m m a Kyle.”

The warmth of Stan’s precious nickname for his super best boyfriend and the cold, stiffness of Kyle’s name as it appeared on his government documents was extremely stark and drastic.

Patting his shoulders once, Stan grasped Kyle’s hand with a soft sigh, squeezing slightly.

“But it was stupid and crazy of me to try and fuck with your college interview…because I could give you one hickey or one million from the top of your head down to your toes…and it wouldn’t matter. They’d still love you.”

He dropped Kyle’s hands …and his expression at the idea, voice quiet, shivering stupidly. “They’d…”

“Hey…H e y.”

Before Kyle lost Stan to his dark, depressing thoughts, he caught his SBF's face gently in his hands, rubbing circles into his cheeks with his index fingers fondly. “I love you, okay? So much.” Kyle pressed a kiss to his forehead, as easy as breathing.

That was not the difficult part. “I love you, B—”

This was.

He took a deep breath and focused hard like the small utterance of these four little letters was more nerve wracking to Kyle than his entire twenty page dossier of interview preparations.

“...B a b y.”

Kyle whipped his head away with his heart pounding, knowing that his face ‘looked like his hair’ when he got furious or flustered, as Stan had one time drunkenly, pointed out, but before he could undo the child lock and roll out the car window, the two excited hands of said Stan were excitedly thwarting and tickling Kyle’s shoulders as he peppered his flushed face with a tiny armada of happy kisses.

“AAAAAAAAAAH! YOU SAID IT!!!!!!” “That was so cuuuuuuute!~ MwahmwahmwamhmWAAAAAA”

Kyle squirmed in embarrassment like a feral cat caught in a rainstorm, completely crimson.

“Once, o n e time! ONE! I — Off, off, O F F ! Quit Stan-handling me!”

He protested poorly, attempting to cling to the mere vestiges of his aloof, unfeeling evil boy persona which was dissolving with every slight skate of Stan's sweet lips against his now salty, stress-induced, sweat-dampened skin.

But then...Stan didn't really care for dessert.

“And you know…”

Kyle mused, beneath his breath, whose sweetened undercurrent Stan's was now caught in...along with his attention. Which was nothing short of a miracle.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t give me a hickey…” He started with a purr.

“Just not up here.” Kyle ran Stan's fingertip over his neck lightly.

“Not…up…t-then…Wh--Where should I?” He looked…genuinely puzzled and eager to please.

Kyle attempted to elaborate.

“You know…Lower.”

Stan squinted. Bless him, again. And in several awkward motions, tried to fix the angle of his face.

“Low…Er? L-Lower like...an-angling my head further down like thi--this? L-Like…”

“Nooo. Like…” Kyle leaned in and every sugared, honeyed word tasted like delicious cherry candy to Stan.

“You can give me as many hickies as you want…just go…”

As Kyle’s lips ghosted over Stan’s temple, his hot breath chilling the myriad of metallic piercings in his ear, which was an echo chamber for Kyle’s beautiful voice, he took Stan’s rough hand and ran it softly down over the slender side of his own ribcage with a seductive slowness before finally settling his super best boyfriend's hand on his hip, which he held like it was his God Given Purpose in life.

“L o w e r.”

“OH.” Stan coughed so loudly and violently that he almost reached for Kyle’s inhaler. “O-Okie dokie!”

Thumbs up. Oh my god. Fucks sake. Could he be more desperate and pathetic?

Apparently he could as bargained ( badly ),

“Are…Are you sure you don’t want to re-reschedule your interview? I think that extra-curricular activity might need some rekiss, I-I mean, revis—“

Kyle laughed, shaking his head. But...if you looked closely enough, and Stan often did, you could see the oft scowling, misanthropic, miserable boy smile an equally rare and ravishing Kyle S m i l e.

“GoodBYE, Stan!”

“Byeeeeee, Kyle!”

“HYH.”

Kyle held up half a stolen heart…

...And before he drove away, Stan r e t u r n e d it.

“H Y H.”

#dont laugh at me i wrote this in like a couple hours #also i should start a TW on my account for 'stan being annoying'#tw stan being annoying #tw pep style dating and being a little spicy i guess #but mostly bc theyre abt to kill eachother all the time or kyle is #but also UR HONOR UR HONOR UR HONOOOOOR THEY ARE IN LOOOOOOVE #the hyh being their ily is very important to me #anyways they are very precious to me rip i hope u laugh hyh i think theyre so funny like smh boys embarrasing me!#also ALSO YES I THINK KYLE IS RORY GILMORE AND IS OBSESSED W GETTING INTO AN IVY #BECAUSE HE THINKS HE HAS TO AND HAS NO PURPOSE IF HE DOESNT #AND IT SCARES THE ACTUAL FUCK OUT OF STAN SO HE IS A MENACE TO SOCIETY ABT IT #BY SOCIETY I MEAN KYLE #kyles rizz at the bottom...ridiculous...help...like bestie u dont have to kill him oh my god #also kyle making stan use this english vocab...iconic behavior i luv them #stan vc Okie Dokie!#tears in my eyes #no rizz no ass no game

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