#To Overtake To Overcome

[mobbu-min]

hmmmm… i want to watch nosferatu and have malleus on the brain…

(tw possible yan mal? blood and death, not reader tho)

Vampire Malleus that sees you trembling through the ruins outside his territory. A shaky hand holding onto a heavy flashlight and the other wrapped tightly around your midriff. A pathetic form of protection, he muses.

Mortals tend to steer clear from his area. He wasn’t even sure when was the last time he saw one. Surely by your indecent way of dress, it's been quite a long time. Ah, how time flies when you're a creature of the night.

Vampire Malleus that follows you throughout the night. Always stepping out of sight everytime you squeak and flash your light in his direction. He could see the tiny tears pricking at your glossy eyes. Throughout his years, he’s seen fear plastered across the face of many and yet, something about yours has his dead heart thrumming in his cold chest. Maybe it’s your eyes, big and shaky, or your trembling lips that squeaks like a little mouse. Or perhaps, it's because you're just so pathetically human that it lights up his curiosity.

Faintly he could hear the sounds of other humans approaching the area. And suddenly, your fear has disappeared into relief. And Malleus’ serene smile twitches. His fun is over and soon you’ll disappear beyond his reach. It can’t be helped, Malleus sighs. For as fleeting as you were, you sure were entertaining.

And yet as your voice met your friends and you turned to face them, your foot slipped and you came tumbling down. Yelping as jagged rock embedded itself into your palms and exposed knees. You hissed in pain as you examined the blood that began to leak out your poor cuts, dripping and collecting into a puddle down below.

And just like that the smell of your blood has awoken the beast.

The moment your friends made it up the hill they fell down wordlessly. It didn’t even click in your brain what had happened. Eyes couldn’t even follow the large black blurr that seemingly flew down from the sky and picked off your friends one by one. Leaving them not a second for them to scream, not a second for them to feel an ounce of fear.

Shakely you called out for them. No response came, just the sway of the wind. Fear mounted you to your spot. You couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear anything and the smell of blood, thick and metallic clung to your nose.

And that smell only became more apparent as a pair of sharp slender pale hands reached for you from the darkness. Twisting your head from the lifeless bodies of your friends to the glowing red eyes of a beast. Domineering, lustful. The beast gazed down at you with such ferocity, you were sure you were about to pass. Those hands, stained with the blood of your friends, trailed down to your bloodied hand and lifted it up to its mouth.

A forked tongue slithered from its mouth and slid across your open wound. And just like that, its eyes rolled back and closed, and it visibly shivered. Disgust thick with fear coated your throat at its reaction and your body fought to move. And yet, it’s hold on your wrist turned harsh, knife-like nails digging into the delicate skin of your wrist and you stilled.

Its eyes opened into narrowed slits. Lips parting into a pleased smirk, allowing you to see its long, sharp teeth. And with a voice, deep and smooth and seemingly human, it purred.

“What an interesting find…”

[rickybaby]

Ricciardo “had a very open chat” with Mekies following F1 Monaco GP to try and understand 2024 difficulties via PitDebrief

[crehador]

overtake! ✧ episode 6

[chithereader]

jealousy, jealousy / aaron hotchner

here’s my masterlist! pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader / shy!reader word count: 2.4k genre & cw: fluff, a little jealousy and pining angst if u squint, mentions of made-up case, different use of cm character a/n: thank u so much for all the support i've been getting on my fics!! hope you love this one as much as i do, i really enjoyed writing this one the most!

Today was a bad day. That much was clear. From the moment you woke up to the minute you arrived at the BAU– you’re convinced that the universe has simply gone the extra mile to make your life a little harder. 

You slept through your alarm and a few phone calls from Garcia, making your morning stressful and complete chaos. You didn’t have time to grab a cup of coffee or a snack, and apparently you also didn’t have time to remove the colorful pimple patches that adorned your face. 

Your blouse is buttoned asymmetrically, your hair resembling a bird's nest, and you left your ID at home, making your arrival more delayed as you had to employ Garcia’s help in presenting a copy of your ID to let you through. 

That too was not without stress given that your phone was on the verge of dying as you were in the call, but thankfully you could finally breathe in the elevator. Or so you thought. 

There were two things that immediately caught you off guard as you walked into the bullpen: one, almost all the desks were deserted and two, Reid and Morgan were watching you- as if waiting for your reaction, which led you to look around in anticipation. Is there a surprise? A prank? Did I miss a patch? I’m…wearing pants, right? 

Not wanting to prolong your search, you look at the two for any indication or clue. Tilting your head to the side as if to ask what? But to your surprise, they both nod their heads in one direction. Oh.

Strauss was in Hotch’s office, along with Rossi and a woman you don’t recognize. Hotch looked a bit tense, Strauss firm, Rossi is as relaxed as ever, and the woman… is looking directly at Hotch. Just Hotch. Huh. 

You were stood just shy of your desk when you shook thoughts out of your head, slowly approaching your desk to settle your things. Dozens of scenarios were running through your head, trying to make sense of new additions to an otherwise normal day. 

But the way she was studying him made your chest tight like someone was stepping on it.. and you couldn’t figure out why. 

You approach the two rascals only to lean on Derek’s desk as you whisper under your breath, “What’s happening there?” 

Morgan shrugs but his focused face remains, “I don’t know, kid. I tried Garcia but she doesn’t have a clue either.” Eyes studying the people in the room, noting anything that could tell them something. 

Mulling over more possibilities, you hum in response. Turning to Reid, you ask him- hoping that his eidetic memory can tell you anything about the woman even if they’d only met in passing. 

“Do you know anything, Spence?” But Reid only pouts at you, a sign that he’s thought about it hard but is coming up empty. 

Shaking his head, he soberly replies, “No..I don’t think so. I– I’ve never seen her before. Sorry.” 

Before any more thoughts could be voiced between the three of you, the door to Hotch’s office opens and all four of them file out- the woman walking a little too close to Hotch. 

-

You’re approaching your usual seat on the jet beside Morgan and across from Hotch when suddenly Agent Seaver overtakes you and sits on your seat. Caught by surprise, your eyes instinctively go to Hotch who’s already looking at you. 

He nods to himself, moving from the aisle seat to the one by the window. But it appears Agent Seaver misunderstood his gesture and moved beside him, “Oh! Thank you, sir.” Even going as far as touching his arm and leaning closely. 

Now, you’ve never been a violent person. Rage has just never overcome your senses like that but today.. of all days– you couldn’t help the image of spilling your hot chocolate all over her cream blouse. 

You don’t even notice that you’re frowning as you sit beside Morgan, somehow still unaware of how much their closeness really upsets you. You honestly thought you’ve maintained an expressionless face until Morgan looks up from his file and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You’ll need claws not paws, baby girl.” Winking at you as you separate. 

You steal a glance at Hotch only to see him watching you and Morgan with furrowed brows. He almost looks normal if it weren’t for the clenching of his jaw that’s his tell of irritation. Moving your gaze to Seaver, in case you missed something that’s causing his new mood, you find her reading the case file. 

As you return your gaze on Hotch, you watch as Seaver touches his arm again and engages him in conversation about the case. It’s through the whole jet ride that you had to stomach the constant Agent Hotchner, Agent Hotchner! paired with a giggle or a slight touch. UGH!

If it weren’t for Strauss personally recommending Agent Seaver as a consultant for this case, you would have done– …still absolutely nothing. You had no claim whatsoever over Hotch. Morgan and Rossi may tease the two of you occasionally, forcing that he treats you specially or whatever but his behavior could simply be chalked off as him being a good and attentive boss. 

And yes, okay fine. You may have some moments here and there… but! they could honestly just be built up in your head because of the feelings you have for him. Like when he said he likes it when you stare? Come on, being stared at can be flattering and that’s just a universal truth. 

- 

After a whole day of coming up with theories, visiting crime scenes and M.E.’s, you’re all completely spent. Lounging in the makeshift discussion room, all of you are still working tirelessly on the case given that the unsub’s on a spree and his timeline is alarmingly short. 

Reid’s been silently staring at the board for 20 minutes while Morgan’s pretending to read files of potential suspects with his legs stretched out and feet on the table, “This is impossible. We just don’t have enough.” He exclaims as he tosses the file on the table with a thud. 

To the left of Morgan, you’re also silently mulling over files of potential suspects. Not wanting to admit that he’s right, you guys don’t have enough…bodies. You barely have anything on the guy, barely any clues- for a working profile. 

You sigh heavily, peeling your eyes off the paper and looking at the board. “Reid?” The boy genius shakes his head softly, confirming that the known dump sites don’t say much about the unsub’s comfort zones or hunting ground. 

You suddenly wonder where Seaver, Hotch and Rossi are. You and Morgan got back to the precinct at around 11PM, and you realize you haven’t seen any of them, “Where are the others?” 

Morgan, in an effort to lighten the mood, jumps at the chance to tease you, “Hmm. I think what you’re really asking is: Where’s Hotch and is he with Seaver?” He punches your arm lightly, making it obvious he’s only teasing. 

The smug, playful smile on his face makes you fight one of your own, desperately trying to not give yourself away, “Shut up,” hitting him in the head softly with the file in your hand. 

While you two were exchanging playful glares, Reid interjects, “Seaver wanted to turn in early since she’s also the one meeting with the families tomorrow so Hotch brought her to the hotel.” 

You instantly lift your gaze to him and watch as he removes the marker’s cap and scribbles rapidly on the board, quickly adding “And I’m pretty sure Rossi’s getting us coffee from the diner around the block.” 

You want to blame it on your exhaustion– your inability and ineffectiveness at hiding how you truly feel about what Reid just revealed to you, groaning loudly in pain and frustration. You put your head in your hands, muffling the sounds you’re making that are somehow a combination of a laugh and a sob. 

Morgan understands your reaction immediately and laughs out loud. 

“It’s not funny!” There was honestly no point in hiding it. As much as Morgan teased you, you knew he wouldn’t tell anyway, and Reid.. well, he was honestly an even better keeper of secrets than Morgan, Rossi and Garcia. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, “Baby girl, worry not. You know you hold a special place in boss man’s heart.” Then gripping both your wrists to pry your hands off your face. 

Pressing your face even further into your hands, you let out a muffled version of “That’s not true!” that came out more as “Daffs noft thwu!” 

When Morgan successfully pries your hands off your face, you’re surprised to see Reid’s moved from the board to behind Morgan, half leaning half sitting on the table, curiously watching you. 

Morgan turns around to look at the door behind you, making sure the coast is clear before he says, “Kid. Be real with me for a sec… are you blind?” That was not the question you were expecting. 

You must have looked so lost because he continues, “Hotch cares for you. Deeply. And not in the same way he does for us. You’ve gotta have felt that, kid.” Funny, you are starting to feel like a kid– the only thing missing are his hands on your shoulders to complete that huddle pep talk experience. 

“That’s just not–” you try to start. But Reid swiftly raises his hand, signing you to stop–

“Did you know that every morning Hotch makes sure all the pens and mug handles on your desk are pointing to the right– the way you need it to be– in case the night janitors move any out of place?”

��Or that he never really ate lunch in the office before but started bringing sandwiches and other food he could microwave, while timing his lunches with yours presumably so he could strike up a conversation with you during break?” 

“Or do you remember that one time the AC in the bullpen broke and we were all sweating badly, and I said the heat was making me too thirsty then he disappeared into his office and came back with a bottle of water and an orange juice box only to give it to you?” 

Morgan lets out a loud laugh at that one while Reid pouts playfully, “I mean I was genuinely dying then.” 

Not without his own input, Morgan smiles softly at you with a raised brow “Did you know he personally restocks your favorite hot chocolate in the pantry and on the jet? Including the marshmallows.” 

You breathe in deeply, the revelations sounding too good to be true but winding nonetheless. You crack a small joke, trying to play it off “And I thought the bureau was just feeling really generous.” 

The two, who have grown to be such brothers, give you the exact same look of Really? 

As Reid rounds the table to go back and stand by the board, Morgan catches your attention and holds your eye, “Look, there’s so much more, kid. But they all point to the same thing.” He says this as softly as possible, as if to not scare you away. 

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. Shaking your head, “That just can’t be true.” 

With all three of your backs to the door, you don’t notice Rossi nearing. You just suddenly hear his voice from behind, rounding the table and settling the coffee cups in front of all of you, “Coffee, anyone?” 

As if trapped in the null of the previous conversation, you’re still looking at Morgan as you lean back in your chair, slumping further to seek non-existent cover. Reid, who is now back in his own world with the board, is handed a cup by Rossi, who didn’t even turn to look- only stretching out an arm to receive it and mumbling a distracted “Thanks.”  

Rossi, who is simply too smart for his own good, impressively senses something hanging in the air, nonchalantly asking about the tailend of a conversation he was not supposed to hear, “So… what can’t be true?” 

Back to lounging excessively on a chair that is a tad too tiny for him, with legs outstretched and feet on the corner on the table– Morgan spouts, “That she’s Hotch’s girl, and has no reason to be jealous of Seaver– who by the way needs the HR orientation more than Penelope and I.” 

-

Now– all of your backs are to the door except Rossi’s. Not one of you tried to move due to fatigue, let alone look.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan, and Reid, on the way back to the precinct from the hotel, Hotch had the genius thought of picking up Rossi so the latter wouldn’t have to walk a block with trays of coffee on hand.

Hotch and Rossi arrived together. And as Rossi went around the table to give you your cups of coffee, Hotch stayed behind– leaning on the doorframe with arms crossed, watching you and the team.

Imagine his surprise, hearing what Morgan just said. His heart skipped a beat, his stomach dropped. His entire being froze entirely.. What? Jealous? 

In his mind, he had two choices: Act like he didn’t hear it and save you from embarrassment or use it to his advantage and make his intentions clear..ish. 

-

You gasp loudly at his bluntness– and in front of Rossi! Straightening in your chair and pointing an accusatory finger at Morgan, “You little– I am NOT jealous! and I am NOT Hotch’s–” 

Cut off by someone loudly clearing their throat from behind all of you, you all freeze, including Reid who hasn’t been actively paying attention until now. 

The hair on your neck stands up as you hear the nearing footsteps, already envisioning digging your own grave in your head when finally, Hotch is standing right beside you. 

You’re all still pretty frozen, save from the slow movement which is your eyes slowly lifting its gaze to the man in question until they meet his hazel orbs. He holds your stare as he leans on the desk, arms straining in his shirt– 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Rossi fighting a smile, and just as you’re about to mentally curse him in your head, you’re broken out of your thoughts by a deep voice, 

“You don’t think you’re my girl?” 

[onlyhurtforaminute]

VOIDSPHERE-TO OVERTAKE/TO OVERCOME

[fanaticsnail]

Dreaming of You

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 320+, 600+, 940+, 1,200+

Synopsis: They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Law, Penguin, Shachi.

Warnings: wet dreams, afab!reader, masturbation, slight yandere: law-penguin-shachi, dub con (masturbating while you're unaware and in the same room, using your image to masturbate to), all individual 'x reader', headcanons, you can sense my favouritism and bias, NSFW, 18+, MDNI.

Notes: Had to get this out, it was driving me nuts. Brought to you by my obsession with the heart-pirates lately. Please read the warnings. Kid-Pirate Version. Art link.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff

Cries of bliss fell from your throat as you allowed the unbridled lust overtake your body. You writhed, overcome with grinding and circling your hips to use his thick cock to chase your high, clenching around him tightly to tether yourself to him. Looking up at your face, witnessing its contortion in pleasure was all it needed for him to immediately bark out a string of curses, spilling his hot cum deep within your core.

The contractions of your walls fluttering around his throbbing cock prompted him to cry your name and chase his high with more intentional bucks and thrusts. You whine his name, gripping onto his shoulders while you allow him to use your body for his pleasure. Your own high propelled his to linger longer, his hot spurts splashing up within you as he molded your body to the shape of his throbbing cock.

“I-I’m cumming,” he whispered, his brows furrowing as the tension in his stomach snapped, “Oh, I’m f-fucking cumming.” The soft, smoky image of your body crying atop him scorched into his memories. He couldn’t get enough, his eyes glazing over as he witnessed you take his entire load deep within you. The whisper of his name on your tongue, the soft smile on your lips, and body glistening in the soft glow of lustful sweat had never had him so transfixed on a single moment before.

His body suddenly jolted awake, the images of you fading away from his mind as he immediately sat upright in his dimly lit bedroom. Lips parting, he threw back the sheets and growled at himself as he looked to his lower abdomen. The white, translucent cum coated his still quivering and throbbing cock: the sticky fluid pooling over his stomach, down his shaft and dampening the sheets beneath him. He groans, wiping his face and pinching his brow before falling back and wallowing in his own embarrassment.

“Fuck.”

Trafalgar Law

He snuck another glance down at his body, clicking his tongue to reprimand himself.

“What a fucking mess,” he growled, his lips curling up and frown furrowing in the middle of his forehead. He hastily reached for his bedside tissue box, swiping a square napkins from the slot and began violently wiping at his skin to rid itself of the cum spent below him.

He was so in control of himself, every aspect of his life being refined down to a fine art. His schedule never differed, he even jotted in when he had the opportunity to masturbate to rid himself of his pent-up stress. He had even stepped out of that routine and managed to relieve himself before falling asleep last night.

So why did this happen?

Overcome with complete embarrassment and shame, he hastily stood up and began peeling off his stained bedsheets and folded them into his laundry basket. Reaching for his linen closet, he growled under his breath while he redressed his bed with his fitted sheet, top sheet, and new cover for his plush duvet.

“The fuck is wrong with me?” he growled at himself, looking down at his cock while he snapped the buttons in place to contain the duvet. Lying back within the sheets, he growled at himself, rolled over onto his side and folded his arms over his chest.

“Law, I-I'm so close,” your fictional and illusionary voice rang in his ears, prompting him to clamp his pillow around his head to muffle the thoughts.

“Shut up,” he scolded his mind, grimacing as he felt a rush of blood pool in his cock. He attempted to ignore it, but the images of you wrapped around his cock prompted his knob to begin twitching at the thoughts.

“Just like that,” your voice called to him, face beginning to contort in pleasure as your illusionary body contracted around him in his mind, “Fuck, don't stop. Please don't stop.”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” he barked, immediately peeling the pillow away from his head and throwing it on the mattress. He folded it in half, immediately slotting his cock between the silken material.

He ground his hips down into the pillow with his left hand holding the stuffed material down firmly atop his throbbing cock, his right gripping the headboard of his bed. His cock was so achingly hard, thick veins began throbbing with desire as his mind conjured what you looked like beneath him.

Your legs would wrap around his hips, your lips crying out his name as he hit that spot deep within you that had you scream for him. He imagined pressing down on your stomach, feeling how deep he was within your abdomen while his thumb stimulated your clit.

As he imagined you reach your high, he manically drove his cock harder within the plush pillow: the satin shroud feeling slippery against his steely cock. He pictured you sobbing as you came undone beneath him, your eyes glistening as he had you reach your peak.

He gently cried your name, sobbing as his hips staggered in an unsyncopated rhythm. His voice caught in his throat as he let out a final lengthy groan. Ribbons of his release coated his pillowcase, his forehead thumping against the wall beyond the bedframe as he shot the last spurt of cum into the material.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” he mourned his sanity, moving away from his prior position and opening up the folded pillow. He grimaced at the mess, berating himself for not only making another mess he had to clean up, but angry at the fact he used the thought of his crewmate to seek out his own pleasure.

“Fuck.”

Penguin

After quickly snapping up from his sleeping position and locating his shirt from beneath his bedside table, he wiped at his cock and stomach with it to rid it of his sticky cum. He rolled onto his side, hastily scrunching his eyes shut and pouting as he tried to fall back asleep.

His thoughts were swimming with the image of you in the thralls of bliss, riding his cock as you used his body to coast through the waves of passion. He could barely halt his roaming hands snaking down his abdomen and clench around his already hardening cock.

Praying that Shachi was still sleeping in the twin bunk beside him in their shared crew-quarters, he pricked his ears up and listened for the steady rise and fall of soft snoring in his ears. Once he deemed Shachi was sleeping deeply enough, he clapped his left hand over his lips and used his right to piston his cock within his fist.

If he was forced to cum within his dreams at the thought of you, he would intend on using that image to cum of his own volition. The way you bounced on top of him, flipping to wrythe beneath him, the soft slaps of hips meeting, the ripples of your ass as he bucked in from behind you; all of these images had him whimpering into his palm while he fucked his hand to reach his high.

He whispered your name, his eyes pricking at the corners as he spilled himself into the same shirt he used to clean himself up with moments prior. He was immediately overcome with disgust at himself. He had violated the image of you as his crewmate and turned you into his own muse to reach his orgasm.

Throughout the entirety of his shift with Shachi, his pout never left his face. His brows were furrowed, his eyes were shrouded even further beneath his hat, and his soft pout quivered into a deep frown the moment his eyes met with your body across the station. His red-haired crewmate beside him noticed his change in demeanor, giving him a soft nudge with his elbow.

“The hell is wrong with you, man?” Shachi arched his eyebrow, scowling with his upper lip curling into a soft snarl, “You’re actually doing work. And you’re so damn silent.” Penguin chose not to engage his workmate, picking up the pace with adjusting a panel on the Polar Tang.

“This got anything to do with...” Shachi leant forwards, whispering a soft moan of your name into Penguin’s ear, followed by a mocking tease of, “...I-I'm cumming. Oh, I’m f-fucking cumming.” Penguin’s face turned a deeper shade of red than Shachi’s hair, the blush flooding down his neck and igniting his skin beneath the burn.

Having a shared bunk with Shachi had its benefits: his closest friend being right there for him when the night terrors got too much for one another. He usually enjoyed having him there, but now that he was throwing his intrusive dream back in his face by mocking his sleep-talking, he was livid.

“Chill out, Penguin,” Shachi jokes, giving him a clap on the shoulder, “Happens to the best of us-.”

“-I’m not some prepubescent teenager who can’t control their fucking thoughts!” Penguin barked, prompting you to turn from your desk and look towards the two men. Penguin hushed his tone, whispering quietly to his friend. “I-I just-...” he snuck a look over at you, his breath hitching as he noticed your stare.

You shot him a puzzled look, glancing at him up and down before returning to your work. Shachi shook his head, clapping over his shoulder to support him.

“You know,” Shachi whispered, “They probably won’t bite,” he nudged him, urging him a little closer to you, “Why don’t you go ask ‘em if they wanna make your dreams come true.” Penguin snapped his head over to Shachi, who had already begun sprinting away from an enraged Penguin.

“Get back here, asshole!” Penguin roared after him, his blush deepening within his cheeks. Shachi chortled, reaching around your body and shielding himself behind you.

“Oi, don't bring me into whatever this is!” you chastised him, attempting to break away from Shachi’s grip. Penguin attempted to reach behind your shoulders, just as Shachi pushed your body into Penguin's.

As your chests collided, the angle of Penguin’s head trying to reach Shachi had his lips knit immediately with yours. You squealed in surprise, humming against his lips as Penguin's own surprise gasped against your own.

You both remained equally surprised at the fact that neither of you pulled away. In fact, Shachi reached for your wrists and clamped them around Penguins neck before he quickly scuttled away, almost forcing you to give into your mutual craving for one another. You felt the rise in heat on Penguin's cheeks, the warm burn causing you to smile against his lips.

Humming gently, you angle your chin up to deepen the soft kiss. You cradled his cheeks, squeaking in delight as he wraps his arms around your back and hoists you up into his chest. You break away from his lips to gaze deeply into his blushing face.

“Sorry ‘bout this,” he murmurs before giving you a soft peck on the lips, “Can we hold this thought for a second so I can go kill him real quick?”

“By all means,” you giggled at him, watching as a mischievous grin drew over his lips. As he releases you and begins to turn away, you draw his attention back with a soft hand atop his cheek. You draw him in close, giving his unoccupied cheek a soft kiss.

“Good luck.”

Shachi

Growling, he immediately threw himself into his shared lavatory with his bunkmate, Penguin. Never had he been so thankful that Law put Penguin on night shift with Ikkaku tonight without him. He aggressively scrunched at some tissue paper, cleaning up his spend all over his red happy trail. He groaned as he fisted at his semi-firm cock, ensuring all of the cum was out of his shaft and firmly squelched into the tissue.

Looking over at his bedside analog clock, he groaned and flung his head back. The small arm of the clock was barely touching the four, the larger one slowly moving to flick onto the ten. He slung his pajama pants over his hips, the material hanging limply and exposing his chiseled adonis belt.

“Not even 4am, for fucks sake,” he shook his head, peeling back his sheets and throwing them into his laundry basket. Weighing up his options, he decided it was not worth attempting to fall back asleep after remaking his bed with fresh sheets, and instead chose to use his time to have a lengthy and uninterrupted shower. He might even indulge in taking a lengthy, relaxing bath afterwards.

Considering the time and crew rotation, he chose the bathroom furthest away from crew quarters to not disturb those remaining in blissful slumber. As soon as he entered the room, he heard a soft humming melody echoing within the tiled walls and joined with the flooding water from the tap filling the large spa.

He turned the corner just as you dropped the towel from your body and stepped within the large bath. His eyes roamed over your thighs, hips, ass, stomach, chest and shoulders until he met with your gaze.

“Oh!” you shrieked in shock, gawking at him as he arrived in nothing but his uniform pajama pants, “Sorry, Shachi. I hope I didn't wake you!” A soft blush rose to his cheeks, looking away from your form and walking over to the shower.

Bathing together was not something uncommon with the heart-pirates. All members of the crew would often indulge in dipping into an onsen together, sharing a ceramic cup or wooden box of sake and joking with one another. It was never anything other than platonic, purely getting joy from being warmed within the water as you shrouded uniformes and became of equal stations and standing.

But now that his mind chose to corrupt the image of you naked, he couldn't help but to turn away from you and ready himself for a very cold shower. Stripping himself from his pants, he placed them in a neat pile beside your clothes. He took off his hat and glasses, rubbing his hands through his hair and placed them on top of his pants.

“You didn't wake me,” he muttered with a straightened, tight-lipped smile, “Couldn't sleep, thought I'd start early. What about you?" He turned on the tap, wincing as the ice-like shards hit his skin.

"Pretty much the same, unfortunately," Shrugging, you gathered several items to scrub at your skin, "I'm on the early shift, too. Thought I'd have a bath." Washing your face first, you lathered the suds atop your cheeks and eyes before dipping yourself in the hot water.

You sighed, leaning back and submerging your hair to lather in foamy shampoo. Your eyes were closed as you arched your back to gather the appropriate angle to dip the crown of your head within the water. Shachi snuck a look at you from behind the tiled wall of the shower stall, immediately clamping his eyes shut as he took in the sight of your bare chest with peaked nipples dripping with opaque suds of soap. He hid his face behind the wall, his forehead resting on it as his cock sprung to life.

“Fuck,” he whispered, turning the cold tap on more to freeze his body out of the thoughts overcoming him. His cock refused to let up, immediately pooling with blood and twitching with anticipation.

“Shachi?” you called to him, brows knit with concern, “Shach, you okay? You hurt?” You attempted to peer around the ceramic wall, but ultimately decided to give him privacy and an opportunity to talk.

“‘M fine,” he grunted out, his right hand grasping his cock and attempting to choke the life from it, pleading with it to fall back to its usual, flaccid state, “Just got soap in my eye, s’all.” The lie was easy enough to believe, causing him to grimace at the fact he could so easily get away with this.

“Oh, I hate it when that happens!” you comment with a soft laugh, lathering up your scalp and groaning as you massaged your fingertips within the damp strands.

Shachi flinched beneath the icy water, his arousal now heightened as soon as he heard your groan. He clenched his teeth tightly shut, his hand moving of its own volition as he circled his thumb over his tip.

“Hey, Shachi?” you hummed in thought, dipping your hair into the water and removing the soap from the ribbons of soaked locks, “Ikkaku, Bepo and I were gonna go to the bar in-land after our shift ends tomorrow. Bepo was gonna ask Penguin if he wanted to come too.”

Shachi hummed in interest, his voice breaking a little in the middle as he listened to your statement. He couldn't help it, his hand began pistoning his shaft and strangling his knob with each crude thrust. He sucked in his bottom lip and clamped down harshly on the flesh.

“It's got that one cocktail I'm obsessed with there,” you added, gathering some conditioner and layering your hair within prayer-like hands, “Did you wanna come too?”

Shachi’s eyes went black with lust, hearing such a simple word as he worked at his cock behind the shroud of the tiled screen. His breath hitched as he felt his end reach its peak, precum beginning to pearl at his slit.

“Shachi?” you call to him, unaware that he was picking up the pace of his hand beating his cock to the sound of your voice, “Do you wanna come?”

Shachi whimpered, nearly reaching his high as his eyes rolled back to your innocent suggestion. He was right there, he just needed one more little push.

“Wh-What was that?” he tested, using the volume of the pelted water within the shower to mask your question from reaching him, “Can you speak up a little? Ask me again?”

“Shachi?” You asked him, your question so innocent, yet Shachi allowed his thoughts to run away with him the moment you asked your question, “Do you wanna come with me?”

“Y-Yes,” he whined, “I wanna come. Let me come with you. I wanna come so bad.” Shachi painted the wall of the shower with hot spurts of his sticky cum, his eyes rolling back as he chased his orgasm as silently as he could. Ropes of spattered cum wrote his sinful desires against the tiles, his toes curling and his hips lewdly bucking. After coming down from his high, he clicked his tongue to reprimand himself.

“Fuck, Shachi,” you giggled, “I've never heard you so enthusiastic about a cocktail before! You sure you wanna come with us?” Your teasing voice prompted Shachi to chuckle from behind the wall, his voice was breathy and filled with humour.

“I would love to come with you,” he panted, immediately wracked with guilt about using your voice and image to reach his climax for the second time today, “Just let me know when you're heading out, and I'll be ready.”

"Okay, great!" you giggled, rinsing the conditioner in the water and remaining blissfully ignorant to Shachi's orgasm erupting on the wall so close to you.

[purplealmonds]

This is my tribute to the late Technoblade. I'm well over a week late to the anniversary of his passing, but I think it was worth the wait. I wanted to get this right.

The story I want to tell is of time's passage after his passing, and the set dressing of this space is a symbolic amalgamation of various aspects of his life depicting that concept.

I have a lot more to say about this painting - three pages just for the symbolism alone. If you're interested, please let me know and I'll share my analysis on a separate post! Edit: I caved. Aight, prepare for a massive info dump below the cut!

DISCLAIMERS:

Although I put a lot of research into this piece, my knowledge is likely flawed and incomplete. If I missed or misinterpreted a reference, it’s because I’m new to the Technoblade community. If I got a symbolism thing wrong, it’s because I relied on Google search for answers. I fact checked where I could. And with this analysis, I hope I can clear up any misinterpretations! 

—

OVERVIEW:

There’s lots of imagery to unpack so I’ll try parsing it in a structured manner. Let’s first examine it holistically. 

The story I want to tell here is of time’s passage after Technoblade’s passing. As such,the set dressing of this space is a symbolic amalgamation of that concept.

Prominently featured are the various medical equipments - a nod to the grim reality of his cancer. But let’s not linger upon that aspect of his story.

Of equal importance are the more mundane objects - his gaming setup, the couch and pillow which Floof sat upon in that one photo, the plethora of paraphernalia of branded merchandise, and references to his exploits in Minecraft. These are relics and mementos of his legacy.

All of these elements intermingle in flooded, lushly overgrown room looking out to a rose-tinted exterior. Is it dawn? Dusk? I’ll leave that interpretation up to the viewers.  

The third and final component is the plant life representing his community -us. We beautify this metaphorical space with where it was once laden with tragedy. Yet, despite these riotous blooms, we never quite encroach on the bed - the empty space left behind by him.

—

SET DRESSING:

Much care was taken in selecting the blossoms and placing them in symbolically significant locations.  And this neatly transitions us into the analysis individual details.

Foreground: 

In the foreground, ivy crawls through a lamp and white clovers thrive atop a pile of pillboxes. The lamp base, once a shining bronze-like finish, is heavily tarnished. The lampshade is overgrown with moss and ivy. Even if the greenery has yet to damage the electric wiring, the damp surely has finished the job. Even if the bulb is replaced, the body is too far gone. The light’s never coming on again. 

I was initially put out that my painstakingly 3D modeled pillboxes became entirely obscured, but I think it works in favor of the piece’s overarching theme: the beautiful wilds overtaking a space that once reeked of the desperate fight to prolong life. 

White clover blossoms meaning “thinking of you” is paired with the ivy meaning “everlasting devotion”.  It’s an apt combination. It has been over a year since his passing, and we still remember and carry on his legacy. 

Nestled amongst the foliage is Techno’s compass. It was once used to hunt him down in the Dream SMP. But now, it’s an odd comfort. Even though he’s no longer with us, he’s still somewhere far, far away– or is he? The original idea was for the needle to point heavenwards, but it is currently pointing…sideways?  I’ll get to the reasoning a bit later. 

The Flood:

Moving deeper into the space, we hit the floodwaters. These once turbulent currents are now tranquil enough to nourish this verdant place. The thriving plant life hides much of this darkness. It is beautiful, hopeful, even. But always bittersweet, because everything that grows here is laced with an old sorrow.

White lotus rise from the murky depths. That is us, overcoming our grief. Breaching the surface, we gain a new vantage point to contemplate this loss. Perhaps we can also find a more comforting perspective of it.

Submerged amongst the blossoms is a rusted oxygen machine. I wanted to decorate the machine with stickers, much like one would personalize a plaster cast for a broken limb. It is deliberate that the “Technoblade Never Dies” sticker is in shadow, while the “So Long, Nerds" is in light. 

Immediately to the right was meant to be a box of assorted Technoblade apparel.  But then I flooded the space for narrative reasons, rendering that idea unusable. I eventually converted it into a Welch’s Fruit Snacks box, because apparently Technoblade liked them? It’s one of the shallower references here but it is what it is.

And finally, there is a little cameo floating somewhere in the waters. An Easter egg, if you will. I wonder if you can find it? 

Furnishings from Home:

I found the couch and Technoblade’s gaming setup during my trawl through the Technoblade Reddit page for reference photos. Balancing this space full of impersonal medical equipment with more personalized belongings is grounding. These areas insert familiarity in this strange environment.

Gaming Setup:

The gaming setup is bare bones - just the monitor, keyboard, and mouse. There was no space to add more iconic elements like his Blue Yeti microphone or the steering wheel from that Minecraft challenge. Hanging above but heavily obscured by overgrowth are two framed pictures of Technoblade’s cabin and a potato minion. It is a blink-and-you-miss-it detail, placed in a dim space and requiring close examining to notice. Without the context of the rest of this environment, it is easily mistaken as generic set dressing. 

That’s the point, though. This was a space where he streamed and created videos much beloved by his community. This space was the means of creation, not the creations themselves. Without the creator at the helm, this setup becomes insignificant. Does one dote over the easel on which paintings were created, or the paintings themselves? So now it sits in darkness, a footnote of Technoblade’s legacy. 

Nostalgia Corner:

On the other end, we have the sold out Youtooz plushies and the Agro Pig plush from the recent merch drop sat atop the couch.  If you look closely, you’ll see a Skeppy coin leaning against one of the plushies. Behind the couch is a shelf. A generic shelf, but the important bits here are the sellout bell, Youtube plaque, and vinyl figurines. 

This corner of the room is nostalgic and soft. Everything is bathed in rosy pink light, and it is filled with things that are comfortingly familiar. All across the world, people in his community have these pieces of merch to remember him by. 

The red poppies that also grow here have multiple meanings. It represents the battle - one against sarcoma - which was fought here. It symbolizes death, but also resilience in the face of grueling conditions. It is said that they grow in former battlefields where of fallen warriors. I believe of all the flowers here, this one best represents Technoblade.

The Hanging Mobile:

Strung up above it is a rather last minute addition to the environment - a hanging mobile fabricated from totems representing each member of the Sleepy Bois Inc. friend group. First and foremost is Technoblade’s iconic MCC crown, aptly placed at the top. Although it is untouched by the greenery, the gold and jewelry are somewhat muted and tarnished by time.

This is not the case for the objects below. TommyInnit’s music disc shines iridiscent green and purple - Cat and Mellohi merged into one. To is right is a sky-blue guitar pick with the LoveJoy logo engraved onto it for Wilbur Soot. And finally, below it all is Philza’s Friendship Emerald - sparkling and refracting light - with Elytra feathers fastened at the bottom. They, suspended and isolated from everything, maintain a pristine vibrancy which strongly contrasts against everything else in this space. 

IV Stand:

Next to the computer setup is the IV stand. It sustains life which is incapable of continuing on without intervention. The butterfly milkweed growing on it, in contrast, says “let me go.” The latter, overtaking the tangle of tubes and powered off patient monitor, is victorious. The hooks stand rusted, and the IV bag empty from disuse.

Sat atop the patient monitor but almost blending into the walls is a pig figurine featured in Dream’s latest music video. It stands on a high perch, yet is unassuming as to direct focus on Technoblade, or rather, his absence. 

Hanging from the wired basket is an air freshener tag. If you look on the official website, this is one of the only products which has what I can only call interesting flavor text. Most are merely descriptions and specs of the product. To quote it verbatim:

“Yes, this is a real product. And no, this ‘air freshener’ has no discernible fragrance. ‘Why’ you ask? Because Mr. Technodad and our team agreed this was exactly the sort of air freshener Alex would have found hilarious.”

As morbid as it sounds, I feel like this air freshener tag would not have existed before Technoblade’s passing. It is so unlike any other merchandise I’ve seen in any other branded merchandise store. It’s like an inside joke, secretly shared within the descriptions for the world to eventually discover. 

Window:

Unlit candles line the window sill - the aftermath of a candlelight vigil. It is a versatile symbol. It raises awareness of a disease or illness. It pays tribute the dead. Judging from the melted wax dribbling down the candle shafts and the wall below (the opacity was reduced so it looks less like bloodstains), this has been done many times over. But there is so much more candle to burn, representing the people still continuing this ceremony, albeit in the privacy of their own homes.

Above the candles are some broken blinds. When grieving, it would have been so easy for Mr. Technodad to hide away from the world in his grief. It’s understandable, to give into that primal urge to flee from prying eyes when he’s at his most vulnerable. He had the difficult task of reading out his son’s final farewell to us. This barrier between him and us dismantled by this gesture so we can remember Technoblade together. 

Coincidentally, the window frame itself somewhat resembles the kitchen window featured in Technoblade and Technodad's cooking videos. Completely unintentional on my end, but fitting in a way since in both those videos they're pulling back the metaphorical curtains for the audience to peer into a small aspect of their private lives.

To the right of the window is a nondescript clock, forever stopped at the 6:30 as a nod to the date when the "So Long, Nerds" video was published. The minute hand is accidentally left out removed to signify that time will no longer move forward for Technoblade. In contrast, the rest of the world - represented by this space - continues to grow and change around his absence.

A wind chime hangs just outside the window. It is said that the soothing sounds produced by them is a healing balm during tumultuous times. Where there is wind there is stirred up emotions, but it is motionless on this calm, breezeless day. A rare respite, where remembrance overrides grief. 

On a more amusing note, there is an interesting looking moth perched on the window glass. Upon closer inspection, the wing pattern may look somewhat familiar. In Chinese culture, when a huge moth visiting your home is the embodiment of your recently deceased loved one checking on you. Remember the compass in the foreground? Well, here’s why it is pointed sideways instead of upwards. This idea came up rather organically during a VC session in the R/Technoblade Discord server. My handful of viewers and myself affectionately dubbed this doofy looking moth TechnoMoff!

Venturing further beyond the windows, ferns grow with wild abandon. They represent eternal youth, and from a certain point of view, he will remain youthful forever at the age of 23. He lives on through us carrying on his legacy and spreading his story. 

Everything outside is tinged with pink. After someone dies, we start seeing them less as a person and more as a legacy. It is the natural course of things to start seeing the deceased through rose-tinted lenses - hence the artificially pink hue of the outside contrasting with the more grounded color palette of the inside. 

Bed:

And now we circle back to the centerpiece of this entire composition: the bed and the things that surround it. 

In front of the bed is an over-bed table with a single object: an incense bowl filled to the brim with burnt sticks of incense. A simple shrine for Technoblade. In Chinese culture, we light incense at the altar to honor our loved ones. We may live separate lives and not cross paths often, but we all come together to leave our marks through this ritual. It is proof that he is still very much loved and missed by us all.

The bariatric bed frame is typically seen in hospitals. It allows the patient to comfortably sit up or recline without expending valuable energy. Encased in this frame is something more personal - the mattress and cushions which Technoblade laid upon in his photo with the Youtube plaque. Their unique patterning is a foil for the impersonal receptacle it is caged in. It is spotlit by the window light, emphasizing its emptiness. Not a single blossom dares to encroach upon this space, because to do so would be to erase the space where Technoblade last resided. Like I mentioned before, this is story is about the space around him as much as it is about him. 

Cradling this bed frame are several flowers. Rosemary and forget-me-not’s for remembrance. Appropriate, given its proximity to the bed. Morning glories, for resilience. That’s us, again. For a while, we meander and spread in the upper walls of this space, avoiding the floodwaters which symbolize grief. But eventually, we gather the strength to meander down to the bed, where grief was the strongest.

—

CONCLUSION:

There is that cheesy quote from that one Marvel TV show – “What is grief, but love persevering?” While this reframes our perception of dealing with loss, grief is not some thing that should linger. The absence of grief does not equate to the lack of love. Instead, I would like you to consider this: remembrance is love persevering. And with our combined perseverance, Technoblade will never truly die. 

[nonranghaes]

heads up: food mentions (left vague)

vernon loves getting candid anything of you. most of the times, it's silly little pictures he saves as his phone background until the next one comes along... but sometimes he lucks out and manages to capture a video of you doing something tiny, something silly, that you don't think he's noticed. today is one of those lucky days.

or, well, nights because it's two in the morning and you're making a late night snack.

"ohh, you've got a toy?" you coo at your cat as she bats around a toy shaped like a tempura shrimp. "baby has a toy?"

he grins to himself at the way the kitty looks up at you, eyes wide as they can be, before she launches herself at the shrimp again.

"yeah! get it! fuck it up!" you giggle to yourself, all too thrilled at watching her hunt. the cat takes off, batting the shrimp across the room before immediately taking off after it. "fuck it up!"

his hands shake just a little as he's overcome with giggles, managing to end the video before he fumbles his phone too hard. you turn around, wide-eyed and thoroughly shocked that he's awake. you gape at him like a fish, unsure of what to say as embarrassment overtakes you.

"nonny--"

"i'm not deleting it," he drops his phone into his sweatpants pocket, making his way over to you. "but... really? fuck it up?" he grins a little, eyes shining with a mischievous glimmer as he teases you. "she's a baby."

"she's a warrior. i'm just supporting her hunting." you don't even ask as you offer up part of your snack, letting him take a bite. "like any good cat parent would."

he rolls his eyes a little at it, but leans in to steal another bite that you always happily give up to him. he thanks you through a full mouth, apologizes barely half a second later, and turns his attention to the jingling ball of fluff across the room.

he'll rewatch that video tomorrow when you're both at work. just to give himself a pick-me-up when the day gets hard.

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

You know what, yandere Lucifer being a horrified medical professional at MC's condition. Very little NSFW but still enough to make me put a below the cut just in case

Yandere Lucifer brainrot (NSFWish)

Lucifer was called to look after the sick Solomon decendent

While he didn't exactly appreciate being interupted from his pleasant chat with Gamigin, if it was for you he could make an exception.

The voice on the phone talked some nonsense about a Christmas cold, but it was common for the less than enlightened in the field of medicine to make up strange names for already known deseases

He got up and brought Marbas along just to be sure, but what he found was simply pitiful

You were on the bed, exhausted, shivering, simply pathetic... I mean, more than usual...

Lucifer stared with pity and concern... yet he has had to deal with much worse. What really shocked him was one he did some questioning to the kings and they admited they knew the cure to your issue yet refused to administer it to you.

Under Lucifer's terrifying glare, the other kings' pride disipated as fast as it formed. The fallen angel only whispered and the crowd left the room.

He was aware of the other devils' incompetance, but this was something else. Were they that wrapped up in their grandious fantasies of fairytale romance that they didn't realise just how much pain they were forcing onto you?

While the others, under Lucifer's command, ran to get that cure, he had a patient to take care of him.

You were barely awake, fever overtaking your fragile, useless body, Lucifer gently pet your head, stroking your hair gently. The same pity he felt for Gamigin so many years ago, he started getting overcomed by once more.

"Child of Adam... stay with me. You shall not suffer in my pressence. Rest well for I am here to help you. Shh..."

His voice lulls you into a relaxing rest. You don't even have any other unholy thoughts your head empty, only rest in your mind.

You awaken to the feeling of a syringe being injected into you with surgical precission, the liquid inside calming your feverish impulses.

Before you could make sense of your situation, Lucifer was holding you like a baby and petting your back, humming a sweet song.

He sits down, placing you on his lap, licking the fresh tears from your cheeks, leaving butterfly kisses wherever he dragged his tongue. He felt particularly loving right now, your tears... those damn tears...

Salty tears dragging down your face, leaving wet trails for him to follow up to your shiny eyes. Even when at your filthiest, those tears cleaned the dirt and purified your soul, showing Lucifer what he always loved most, your innocence. You were but a newborn in his ancient eyes, a new born that was clearly being handled poorly by the six kings.

You were so weak! And the kings clearly didn't have your better interest at mind. He decided that the only thing he can do is take you under his wing and protect you from the dangers outside.

Maybe you would try to escape his grasp, maybe you'll just accept your fate, it doesn't really matter what you want, Lucifer can rewrite the laws of nature, your will is no match for his devine powers

He would constantly do check-ups on you, make sure that your body functioned properly, though you're starting to question some of his methods.

Sure, him holding you by the throat while you sit on his lap, your back to his chest, is totally to check your pulse and nothing else

The ways he orders you to bend are just to test your flexibility, his gropping is to check your skin for lumps, he only makes you cockwarm him so he can get a proper feel of your internal temperature, the tears that cascade down your visage are just a plus in his books, your way of thanking him for the care

Don't you dare complain about him. You remeber getting sick? How all the other kings so selfishly witheld the medicine from you in your time of need. You don't want that again, do you?

In all honestly, he is the best doctor ever, so at least you get free unlimited health care

[andypantsx3]

SOMETHING IN THE WATER | 6 | SHOUTO x READER

SUMMARY: As a future marine biologist, you’ve scored big on your final internship: a summer in the tropics, researching the waters off the coast of a lush, sunny island. But what you thought would be all beach days and piña coladas turns out to be the revelation of a lifetime when you haul in a handsome merprince, and discover not everything in these waters is quite as it seems. TAGS/WARNINGS: mermaid au, interspecies relationships, mating rituals/courting behavior, (sort of) case fic, aged up characters, eventual smut, fem pronouns/afab reader LENGTH: 3.7k of est. 27k, 6th of 8 chapters

Shouto was waiting on the shore when you returned, mismatched gaze pinned on you as you stepped out of the trees. He seemed to know from your expression that you’d found exactly what you’d been looking for.

“It is what you wanted, then,” he said.

You could feel a grimace overtake your features. “Not what I wanted, exactly, but it is what I expected to find.”

A clawed hand reached out to catch your ankle as you stepped out of the shade onto the hot sand. You could see the impression of Shouto’s tail in the sand where he’d dragged himself from the water, a thick line of disturbed beach. He peered up at you, thumb pressing into the hollow behind your ankle bone.

“They’re polluting this place and they’re trying to hide it,” you said, your mouth pulling into a thin line. “They’ve dammed off that lagoon for now but it’s not going to hold forever. And they’ve already killed off everything in it.”

Shouto’s claws rasped lightly over the skin of your ankle. “You are upset.”

You glanced down at him, finding his handsome face concerned. “I’m—angry, I guess, yeah. Especially now that I know you and your whole pod are here. It’s bad enough thinking of what this is going to do to all the local populations, but to think of you getting sick…”

Shouto’s long eyelashes fluttered as he took a slow breath. You carefully studied the sand next to him so you didn’t watch the way the muscles of his chest flexed and relaxed as he did so. “You want to protect me,” he concluded, something strange in his tone.

Your face flushed hot. “Well, yeah.”

Shouto’s expression went carefully blank, like he was trying not to look too pleased. Instead, he reached out a hand, taking yours, prying it open to reveal the sample kit containing a bleached chunk of coral you’d cut off the poisoned reef. “And you will keep the coral I gave you,” Shouto said.

You nodded, blinking in surprise. In your momentary funk you’d almost forgotten the underlying reason for your visit here—Shouto had given you something that would have taken him hours to get. Something he’d have had to pull himself through the forest on his arms alone for, something he too would have had to have waded into a poisoned reef for—and that had to mean something significant.

You doubted it was a token of friendship, as you’d first assumed. But then—what would be the cultural significance of the gift?

Shouto’s thumb petted over the hollow of your ankle bone again. “And you will wear them.”

You nodded absently, suppressing a shiver at the feeling of his touch.

“Yes, when I get back to my room I’ll scrounge up something to wear them on,” you promised.

Shouto’s expression shifted into something satisfied. “With dinner and a movie,” he said.

You stared at him. “You want—right now?”

“Right now,” he echoed, nodding seriously. His features rearranged themselves into a mask of determination.

You laughed at the expression, like a movie was some great hurdle to overcome, some life-or-death mission.

Well, you supposed a promise was a promise. And it was nearing dinner time.

Your mind instantly began to churn with plans. You’d have to dock the boat and beg off the meal with the science crew, figure out when and how to tell them about the poisoned lagoon, find a meal somewhere that Shouto could digest, meet him back at the beach, steal a wheelbarrow, and figure out how not to get caught.

“Alright, a deal’s a deal,” you decided.

An almost triumphant smile teased at the edge of Shouto’s mouth.

His hand left your ankle and he followed you back across the sand down to the water, slithering agiley like a handsome snake. He supervised you as you stuffed all your things back into your dry bag, then slipped into the water, keeping pace alongside you as you swam out to where you’d anchored the boat.

He pulled himself in after you, and boated most of the way back to the dock with you. He only slid back into the water when you shooed him off just out of sight of the port, promising to meet him back on the beach in front of the inn.

You docked the boat in town, then poked through a couple take-away food stalls for something that seemed like it wouldn’t mess with Shouto’s digestion. Stifling a wry grin, you settled on a sushi vendor, picking out a few basic rolls with local fish and a seaweed salad that you and Shouto could split.

You trekked back to the inn, stowing your food in your room, then poking your head into Yu’s room to let her know you’d finished up on the water, but weren’t feeling well and were going to sit out dinner.

Once you’d also verified Izuku was nowhere to be seen and that Inko was safely installed in the front office, you crept over to the maintenance shed. The door was unlatched—probably a product of living on such a small island with little crime—and you helped yourself to the wheelbarrow and an ancient tarp wedged underneath several old planters.

Shouto was waiting for you just off the beach, that head of red and white pair poking out of the water inquisitively as you approached. He eyed the wheelbarrow with suspicion, even as he hauled himself up on shore.

“What is that,” he asked, flatter than a question.

“Your chariot awaits, good sir,” you joked, gesturing at it.

A red eyebrow went up, Shouto’s mismatched gaze pinning on it with distrust. “I do not think I like chariots.”

You laughed. “It’s actually called a wheelbarrow—it’s used to haul heavy stuff. And you most definitely qualify as heavy stuff. I’m not strong enough to carry you all the way back to my room.”

Shouto’s eyes slid over the muscle of your arm assessingly. “Humans,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You cannot swim, fight, or lift things. It is a wonder you survive at all.”

You poked him with a sneakered toe. “Hey, I can too swim and lift things.”

Shouto’s pointed non-reply was answer enough and you huffed out a laugh.

“I will do it for you,” Shouto decided. “The swimming and fighting and lifting.”

For some reason this made you flush. “I—there will be no fighting on my watch.”

Shouto’s mouth quirked. In lieu of another answer he reached out an arm, gripping the side of the wheelbarrow. Your mouth went a little dry as you watched the muscles in his arm activate, and you just barely remembered to hold the wheelbarrow steady as he pulled himself in, biceps cording.

He was far too large for it, the bulk of his muscle and broad shoulders taking up nearly the entire thing, leaving his tail to drape out and drag along the sand. There was no way the tarp was going to cover enough of him.

“Okay, let’s wrap this around your tail, at least, in case anyone sees us,” you decided, spreading it out over his waist like a blanket. He looked a little goofy, and possibly a million percent more suspicious with the tarp dragging after him on the ground, but it was the best you were going to get, probably.

“So how long can you last out of salt water, do you know?” you asked, wheeling him around and heading up the beach. You figured it had to be a couple hours considering how long it must have taken him to reach the coral he’d given you, but you hated the thought of him getting uncomfortable.

“A long time. Close to a day I think,” he said.

“Wow, and you don’t dry out?” you asked.

He tipped his head back to look at you as you wheeled him, wet hair dripping into the wheelbarrow. “I do, but it takes some time.”

“And you’re not uncomfortable?” you grunted out the question, shoving him up the incline towards your room.

“Not for a long while,” he said.

Well that was good. You probably wouldn’t need to set him up in the tub then. It would be nice to eat your sushi somewhere other than the bathroom.

You were panting by the time you got Shouto up the hill, and it was an even larger production getting him through the door. It was only when you finally wheeled him inside, watching him peer around your room curiously, that you realized your seating options were limited. You were possessed of a single chair, currently occupied by your suitcase—and Shouto was far too large for it besides.

Something flipped in your stomach as your eyes were drawn towards your bed.

Like he could sense your sudden hesitance, Shouto turned to you, mismatched gaze pinning on you with a startling focus.

“You are nervous,” he observed.

You could feel your face heat. “Well I don’t exactly wheel mermen back to my room every day of the week.”

Shouto’s mouth pulled like he did not like the image of that. He grasped the sides of the wheelbarrow with clawed fingers, hefting himself out and slithering to your floor. You stared at the sight of him perched there on the rug, eyebrows lifting when he reached out a hand and drew your sitting chair towards him.

Instead of climbing in, however, he flipped open the top of your suitcase, peering in curiously.

You watched him flip a book over then ease it aside, rifling through your bag of clean socks and shorts. You sputtered when Shouto’s long fingers unearthed a bra, his head tilting.

“Nosy!” you squeaked, darting forward to throw your suitcase shut again. You didn’t know why you were so embarrassed, but you desperately hoped merpeople did not know the difference between swimwear and underthings.

Shouto’s frown was almost too cute to be borne. He looked up at you, his hand going to your ankle, as it always did.

“You do not have anything to bind the coral with,” he said, sounding a little pouty again.

Oh. So that’s what he’d been looking for.

You nudged his other hand aside, unzipping the pocket where you’d stored a few pieces of jewelry. You hadn’t brought many on the assumption that you’d mostly be working, but you’d brought enough to be useful. Shouto watched with some interest as you unclipped the chain of a necklace, sliding off the charm and storing it in your bag again.

His eyes followed you as you stepped away to your nightstand, where you’d stowed the coral he’d brought you. Immediately, you realized there was a problem.

“Uh, we might have to wait a couple more days until I can find a way to put a hole in these,” you said, gesturing with the pieces.

Shouto’s heavy tail made a scraping sound as he dragged himself across the carpet to you again. You plopped down on the edge of the bed so as not to tower over him, holding out the coral to him. Shouto angled his claws carefully away from your palm as he took a shard in his long fingers, the bleached white of it standing out starkly against the crimson of his coloring there.

Shouto’s handsome face stilled in careful concentration as he angled his pinky claw carefully, so that just the point of it pressed to a corner of the piece. You watched in fascination as he pressed down, and his claw bore right through—piercing it shockingly easily.

Your stomach flipped, and you recalled the first time you’d seen Shouto—how deadly those claws had seemed. Weeks into your friendship, you’d realized you’d been so focused on his most human of qualities—his beautiful face, inadvertently funny manner, his sweet thoughtfulness. But here was a reminder that he was also something far more than a man—possibly one of the most dangerous things in these waters.

Your heart beat a little faster as Shouto did the same to the next piece of coral, and you looped the necklace chain through them. There was a sort of dark, satisfied look in Shouto’s eye as you clasped it around your neck. A clawed finger gently touched your sternum, lifting the coral for Shouto’s inspection.

“Good,” he rumbled, looking pleased. His finger was warm against your skin, and you wondered if he could feel how quickly your heart was beating against it.

For some reason you felt your face warm. You stilled under Shouto’s touch until he let the coral drop back against your skin, seeming gratified.

Clearing your throat, you quickly rose from the bed, gesturing Shouto onto it.

“I’ll, um, grab our food,” you told him, hoping you sounded normal. “And get my laptop to pick out the movie. Just, uh, make yourself comfortable.”

You pointedly did not watch as Shouto levered himself up on the strength of those arms, instead unearthing the sushi from your room’s miniscule fridge, along with two bottles of water. You piled it all on your laptop like a tray, then turned back to Shouto.

He was far too large for your bed, laid out across it like a sunbathing model. His tail was far too long, draping off the end in a sweeping fan of scarlet and white. Your eyes traced the line of his tail back up the bed, up to where the scales freckled into the taught muscle of Shouto’s abdomen, fair skin all but glowing in the fading summer daylight, the shadows swirling and pooling in the divots of the muscle like water.

You flushed again at the sight of all of that laid out in your bed, waiting for you. You reminded yourself that he did not have the cultural context you did for sharing a bed, and that you were just splitting food. And he was another species, besides, no matter how human his upper half looked.

You very deliberately did not think about the fact that his sister had a human husband.

Shouto wriggled back against the headboard as you approached, and you clambered in next to him, careful not to brush his arm as you did. You set the sushi between you like a shield, then flipped open your laptop, wondering what kind of movie a merman might like.

“Um, got any requests?” you asked him.

Shouto’s mismatched eyes pinned on you. “I want to watch whatever you want to watch.”

Well that was no help. You wracked your brain for options, blinking when you remembered you’d told Shouto that he’d probably find human movies about merpeople funny. An idea formed.

Shouto watched with interest as your fingers clacked across the keys, alternately watching the movement of them and the windows that appeared across the screen. The island wi-fi was slow, and it took a few painful minutes, but eventually you ended up with a title screen queued up: The Little Mermaid.

You looked at Shouto for approval, only to find his eyes searching over the screen, as if for some clue of what was to come. Oh—that was right—he might have been able to speak to you, but chances were probably slim he could read any human languages.

“It’s an animated film about, uh, this mermaid who strikes a deal to be human and live on land,” you explained. “She, um, falls in love with a prince and they, uh, sort of fight to be together.”

Shouto’s mismatched eyes picked over you speculatively. “A human fights? I thought you were not capable.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well he mostly steers a boat around. But he does help try to defeat a sea witch.”

Shouto eyed you. “There is no such thing.”

A startled laugh burst out of you at the look of suspicion on his face. It was patently ridiculous that a merman was propped up in your bed telling you what was and wasn’t real.

“It’s fiction,” you told him. “People also think merpeople aren’t real, as you well know.”

Shouto looked doubtful, but you pressed play on your laptop anyway. You deposited his sushi in his lap, then hesitated over whether to hand him chopsticks too. As you watched him draw one long claw across the plastic cover, slicing it open instead of just uncapping it, you decided no. He most definitely would not be needing a pair of chopsticks.

Shouto seemed to like his plain rolls, all of the ingredients except the rice ocean-based. You watched his handsome nose flare suspiciously at your own rolls when you opened your container, shooting a look of obvious distaste at the spicy mayo drizzled over the top of one.

You had to hide another smile, strangely charmed by everything about him.

Shouto also was quickly absorbed by the movie, and did not notice when you plucked his empty container from his lap. He seemed to find it equal parts amusing and ridiculous. It was only when Ariel and Prince Eric almost kissed in the boat that you felt Shouto’s eyes on you. You stared resolutely ahead, pretending not to notice, your skin prickling.

He was distracted again by the rest of the film, even leaning forward with interest during the climax. But his eyes wandered your way again when Ariel and Eric finally kissed, and you looked up reflexively, face heating when his was closer than you had expected.

“Uhhh,” you said, stupidly. “Did you… like it?”

“Yes,” Shouto replied. Outside, the sun was sinking, and it cast Shouto’s face in an orange glow, the blue light of your laptop refracting strangely off his eyes.

Your breath quickened, for some unfathomable reason.

You jumped when warm fingers met the skin of your sternum again, and you heard the chips of coral click as they were lifted. Shouto’s eyes dipped to them, then back up to your face, dragging over it slowly.

“You said there were no other mating rituals, correct?” Shouto said.

You startled under his touch, brain functions freezing up at the mention of mating. What—mating rituals? And what did he mean other?

“Mating rituals?” you echoed, trying to keep your voice from coming out strangled.

Shouto nodded. “You said jewelry is often given. And dinner and a movie. But I believe you said there were no other common practices across cultures.”

You blinked, mind whirring with the implication that Shouto thought dinner and a movie was a mating ritual and yet had engaged in such a thing with you. And as for jewelry… you felt one of Shouto’s claws drag delicately over the skin just under your neck as he thumbed across the pieces of coral.

A sudden suspicion formed in your brain, illuminating your synapses like a light had just been snapped on. A million other things Shouto had said about fighting and hunting and protection suddenly felt like they made a terrible sort of sense to you. You stared back at Shouto, mouth dropping open.

No. There was no way.

“Shouto,” you said, your voice shooting embarrassingly high. It was ridiculous to even ask the question, and yet… “Are you—did you ask for dinner and a movie as a date?”

Shouto inclined his head. His hair had mostly dried, and it looked soft and silky in the orange light from the sun. You fought down the sudden urge to reach out and touch it.

“Dates are mating practices, are they not?” he murmured.

A hand pressed down next to your hip, titling you a little towards him with the dip of the mattress. Your heart beat fluttered, the skin at your hip prickling.

“But you—but there’s—but we didn’t—but you—” you fumbled, blinking flusteredly. The air in your room suddenly felt about a million degrees warmer, almost suffocatingly hot. Shouto tilted his head, then pressed the backs of his fingers to your cheek, as if testing your temperature.

“Are you well?” he asked.

Were you well. Were you well?

A literal fairytale creature, a prince of fairytale creatures, was sitting in your bed, having all but just admitted to engaging in mating rituals with you, and here he was asking if you were well!

You made a noise somewhere between the moo of a cow and a goose honk, and Shouto’s fingers shifted against your skin.

“How is it that you conclude the mating ritual?” he asked, watching you carefully. “If it is successful and my suit is accepted?”

His suit. His suit! Like he was courting you!

Dear god what had you been getting yourself into. And why did every single inch of your skin feel like it was on fire, especially when Shouto leaned closer?

“When they—in the movie when they pressed their mouths together,” you stammered. “You must know it from your sister having a human husband—it’s called kissing.”

Shouto’s fingers moved across your skin, until he was cupping your face in one large palm. Your breath froze entirely in your lungs. This close, his face was somehow even more perfect, and you were entirely robbed of higher brain function, gawking at him like he was an animal in a zoo.

Shouto was near enough that you could feel the exhalation of his next words on your mouth. “I would like do it, this kissing,” he said, tone slow and rolling. “That is if you accept me. If you acknowledge we are mates.”

You couldn’t really think past the feeling of his hand on your face, the way his claws rasped so sweetly over the skin behind your ear. He was so warm and so close and so stupidly, mind-numbingly handsome, and the low, gentle way he spoke to you sounded like the sea, a rumble of waves you wanted to sink beneath.

You opened your mouth to ask him to repeat the question, as your processing power was suddenly at zero percent.

But then Shouto shifted on the bed, the weight of his hand tipping you even further towards him. You felt yourself losing a little balance, falling, a hand pressing against his naked chest to catch yourself—

—And then Shouto’s mouth caught yours, and you forgot to feel anything else at all.

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Honest?

Pairing: Dabi x reader

Summary: Lying always seemed to be the best way to navigate your attraction to Dabi. This definitely didn’t aid you after getting hit with a truth quirk

Warnings: slight smut/mentions of smut; a tiny bit of blood at the start; language; teasing;

Word Count: 2k

Your foot slid across the pavement, damp concrete aiding your narrow escape from your opponent's axe.

The weapon slammed into the wall behind you, making a small dent in the stone that had been a few centimeters behind your head moments before.

Glancing up, you watched them grasping the hatchet, the heel stuck within the wreckage. The struggle gave you a chance to sweep your leg under theirs, bringing them to their knees as you jumped up.

However, the force of their weight effectively pried the axe from the wall, it’s edge cutting through the fabric of your shirt and piercing the skin underneath.

“Shit!” You groaned, watching red bloom through the cloth, dripping past your elbow and onto the chest of your fallen combatant.

A bang sounded off from your left and your spun on your heels, watching Twice incapacitate some enemy that had sticks of dynamite for hair.

Maybe the quirkless didn’t actually turn out to be the least fortunate group that society made them out to be.

The distraction was just enough for you to almost miss the haywire explosive shooting straight for another one of your comrades.

“Toga!” Your shout echoed through the alleyway, making the blonde turn her head in question, giving her just enough time to sidestep away from the projectile. She giggled, turning back around to stab her own opponent in the shoulder. He let out a cry of pain as she waved in appreciation for your warning.

Fear shot through your chest as a hand slithered around your ankle, a final attempt to overcome you that was easily squandered with a kick to the nose.

Still, the sensation of your opponent's skin against yours left an icky feeling that trickled up your spine, almost like the area below your knee was tingling with infection. You tried to ignore it, glancing up in relief to see the rest of your team similarly victorious in this fight.

A rigid breath left your lungs, beating heart still hammering away.

The stroke of adrenaline slowly drained from your limbs, leaving a comfortably sound mind that pushed you to remember the scratch just above your elbow.

“Ouch! What happened?” You looked up, quickly shielding your bloodied limb from Toga's view. Her tone seemed falsely sincere, but it greatly clashed against the carnal excitement gleaming in those golden irises.

I’m fine.

“My arm got cut and my ankle feels kinda gross."

You blinked.

That wasn't what you wanted to say.

While this was hardly the worst injury that you had gotten over your time working with the League of Villains, you were never exactly one mention any of your personal problems regardless.

It was just easier to patch yourself up unaccompanied, not to mention your underlying anxiety regarding making yourself seem weak in front of your cohorts.

Of course, most of them weren’t the type to notice, with the minor exception of-

"What the hell is wrong with you?”

Dabi, despite his usually disinterested nature, was quite the perceptive individual.

Actually, it probably would've taken someone with the observation skills of an ice cube to not notice the confusion overtaking your expression.

Nothing, I’m fine.

The lie got caught in your throat, an unwanted truth quickly taking its place and pounding against your vocal cords. “I can’t stop talking."

He cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"I can't stop talking. My mouth isn't doing what my brain is telling is to," you sputtered.

Now you were starting to panic, mind racing in sync to the pounding of the muscle in your chest.

Dabi, however, took a moment to ponder your words before striding over to your previous combatant. He nudged their crumpled form with the toe of his boot, getting nothing but a fractured groan in response.

Sighing, almost like the lack of answers pertaining to your well-being was of common inconvenience, he moved back to you, cerulean irises boring into yours. "What are you scared of?"

The words were almost immediate. "Abandonment and letting people down. But clowns are also pretty-"

Eyes widening, you slapped a palm over your mouth, an amused grin overtaking his. "Truth quirk. You'll probably be fine in a few days."

You exhaled in relief.

Honesty quirks were annoying, sure, but you weren't going to die and your brain wasn't going to melt or anything like that.

Wait...

"Days?" You jogged to catch up with him, Toga and Twice following closely behind.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Hiding something?"

No.

"Yes."

Fuck.

He clicked his tongue, feigned hurt lacing his tone. "Ouch, and here I thought that we were friends."

You were.

Kind of.

At least, in the way that villains could be friends.

He would bug you with teasing comments that border lined flirting on several occasions. In response, you would ignore him, sending a comparable quip back in his direction when you felt like it.

But for the most part, you tried to keep your distance.

Despite your current ally-ship, you would've been stupid not to recognize how dangerous he was.

The fact that you had found yourself vastly attracted to the man for quite some time definitely didn't help.

It was safe to say that you spent the rest of the walk back with your hands over your mouth.

While Dabi had become uncharacteristically quiet, much to your growing concern, your other companions had only seemed to become more talkative.

"Who's your favorite person in the league? It's me, right? It's pretty obvious." A strangled cry came from Twice's direction. "Why do you hate me?"

Toga tugged on the cuff of your jacket. "When we first met and I asked if we could be best friends and you said yes, was that just because I was covered in blood or did you mean it?”

All of those answers were muffled beneath your palms.

It seemed like an eternity before the league's hideout finally came into view.

But just as you were ready to slip past the door and book it upstairs, somebody grabbed your elbow, pulling you towards the bar.

"Come on."

Almost having to jog to keep up with his long stride, you looked up at Dabi in surprise. "Where are we going?"

"To make sure that arm doesn't get infected."

You stopped in your tracks, heels skidding against the worn floor panels as you tried to yank your wrist out of his grip.

Of course, he was stronger than you, annoyingly so, but stronger nonetheless.

He dragged you to a bar stool, forcing you into the seat by your shoulders with a scoff. You watched him trudge behind the counter towards the smart cabinet of medical supplies the League kept around before emerging with a small container of rubbing alcohol and some bandages.

“I’m…” I’m fine, it’s not that big of a deal, is what you wanted to say, but the words stuck to your tongue like peanut butter. You took a minute, attempting to find a happy medium between what you wanted and what was the truth. “I can take care of it.”

You reached for the bottle, fingers grazing the glass as he yanked it out of your grip, completely ignoring your statement. With his free hand, he grabbed your wrist once more with a quick roll of his eyes.

Even as you tried to squirm away, he let a steady stream of the liquid fall onto your arm. He looked almost bored doing so, eyes only flicking up as you hissed through your teeth at the burn.

Dabi let out a mockingly kind pout. "Oh, I'm sorry, princess. Did that hurt?"

Your answer, an undoubted 'yes', was muffled beneath a palm, the action making him grin as he picked up the gauze.

“I can finish.” You muttered quickly, almost like if you spoke less, you may be spared from saying something embarrassing. “Thanks.”

Surprisingly, he relented, but not without another eye roll, and let you fidget with the bandages.

"So quick to get rid of me, doll? Won't you miss this pretty face?" Dabi let out a humorless chuckle before moving to put the bottle back.

The comment was just for show. He was one of the cockiest individuals you’d ever had the displeasure of laying eyes on. He was arrogant and awfully flirtatious when it came to you, but it wasn’t very difficult for anyone who looked hard enough to understand that he was internally pessimistic concerning his own appearance.

Those scars littering his skin were clearly a sore spot for him, although he didn’t seem to give a damn about giving anyone who would make a snide comment the satisfaction of a reaction.

Usually, they would just end up as a pile of ash.

Of course, his own secretly insecure views made it quite easy for you to keep up the image of your general dislike of the individual.

Which made it all the more terrible when you immediately responded with-

"Yes."

If it was anatomically possible, you could’ve sworn your stomach turned inside out as you watched him freeze, cerulean eyes lighting up as he slowly turned around to face you.

"Excuse me?"

"I said that I'd miss your pretty face."

He blinked. “You think my face is pretty?"

Run me over

"Yes."

with a freight train

The horrid grin crawling over his features made you queasy.

You leapt off the chair, shoes slipping on the wooden floor as you dashed to the stairs, the sting of embarrassment nipping at your heels.

But he was quicker.

Dabi's hand slipped around yours, yanking your body back and pushing it against the wall. "And where are you going?"

Almost instinctively, your arm shot upward, your palm aching to cover your mouth. The attempt was one that was easily squandered, his fingers wrapping around your wrist and tugging it upward before grasping both of your hands between one of his own. "My room."

"Why?" The smirk gracing his lips seemed to combat with the tension blazing in his eyes, quiet anxiety brewing for your answer, the one you would be forced to give.

"Because I like you and don't want you to know."

The silence that followed made you want to vomit, eyes burning with tears that you willed not to fall.

And then he was kissing you.

Fingers strewn through your hair, he pressed his mouth against yours, swallowing the gasp that followed his actions.

Your eyes flit to a close as you let Dabi take you, his hands slipping from yours to snake around your waist and push your hips together. Warmth sparks between your legs as his touch dipped dangerously beneath your pelvis.

A groan was forced passed your lips as he gave your left thigh a squeeze, smirking as he pulled away, palm still cradling your chin. "If you told me, we could've done this a lot sooner, ya know."

"Bullshit," You scoffed. "If you didn't feel the same, you would've been an asshole. You're always an asshole, actually."

Leaning forward, his breath tickled the side of your neck. You felt him grin, teeth nipping at the top of your ear. "Maybe, but I don't seem to have any issues turning you on. Isn't that right?"

"Yes." You looked down with a huff, shuffling your feet. "Whatever..."

He intertwined his fingers with your own. "Oh, come on, doll. No need to be embarrassed." With a small tug, he dragged you towards the hallway, barely missing the blue haired individual holding a glass of whiskey walking past.

Shigaraki raised his cup. "Where the hell are you two going?"

Dabi glanced down at you, a smile gracing his lips. "I don't know, princess. Where do you think we’re going?"

You were smart enough to know, but you sure as hell didn't want to say it.

Unfortunately, the man standing next to you didn't seem to care in the slightest.

"To fuck, probably."

The sound of your fearless leader choking followed you both up the stairs, your curses of annoyance bouncing off the decrepit walls and into his room, the door slamming shut with a bang.

[mrs-hatake]

While I Weep

Pairing: Sylus x F!reader

Warning: anxiety

Genre: Hurt/Comfort and Fluff.

A/N: we anxiety rn ;u;

Sylus hears three timid knocks on the door to his study. He waits patiently for the other person–whom he is well aware to be Y/N from her knock alone as Luke and Kieran would barge into his study without a shred of decorum. When a handful of seconds pass by and no one enters, Sylus gently calls for them.

Just as he suspected, the wooden door opens to reveal Y/N. She is standing timorously by the door, eyes downcasted while her lips twist left and right. Sylus’ eyebrow raises at the sight. Her gung ho attitude is replaced by a meager mouse, shoulders tense as hair on the skin raises in alert. Sylus has never seen Y/N like this. Even during a dangerous and life threatening mission, Y/N would march in with bravado, smirking confidently at the face of adversity.

It takes Y/N a drawn out pause for her to ask Sylus, “Can I join you?”

Sylus takes Y/N in. She’s dressed in lounge wear; a cotton shirt with matching sweatpants and a pair of fluffy slippers. There’s no makeup coloring her already beautiful face. Her hair is let loose, free. Sylus nods. But then clears his throat, “Yeah.”

As silent as a graveyard, Y/N shuffles into Sylus’s study. Quick and light as a feather. Within seconds, she is standing in front of Sylus’ spinning chair. This surprises him as he, naturally, assumed that Y/N would sit on the few leather couches and chairs strewn about in his study. 

But as Sylus looks up at Y/N, he understands why she is standing in front of him. 

There’s a storm brewing in Y/N’s eyes, one she struggles to contain, desperately resisting the urge to be swept away by its fury. The air flowing from her slightly parted lips is thin and ragged, each exhale a fragile whisper of her inner turmoil. Unease is written all over Y/N’s face in bold strokes, vividly unveiling her fear.

No words are spoken as Sylus pushes his chair away from his desk. He gently pats one of his legs, as if coaxing a fearful animal to venture into its new home.

Hesitation flashes in Y/N’s eyes. Though it disappears as quickly as it has appeared. Gratitude can be seen instead. Slowly, Y/N sits sideways on Sylus’ lap.

Instantly, Y/N’s arms crawl up Sylus’ broad shoulders and make a home for themselves around his neck. Then, she is burying her face in that one spot under the curve of his jaw. Curious as he may be, Sylus remains silent at the display. 

The ticking of the desk clock reminds Sylus of the report he needs to finish by the end of the night if he wants to spend his weekend with Y/N. But just before he can pull his chair forward and resume his work, a soft sound, barely audible, has him freezing in place like an ice sculpture. 

The sniffles grow louder by the second. The tears cascade like a ferocious river, instantly soaking his neck. Y/N’s frame quakes in his arms, her body trembling with each sharp intake of breath as sob after sob overtakes her. She remains utterly silent, crying like a storm in the night, its chaos and devastation revealed only with the dawn.

Each gasp, every tear shed, and the seemingly endless tremors are more painful than any bullet that has been lodged deep into Sylus’ body. 

Having been alone most of his life, Sylus isn’t sure how to comfort those in distress. After all, when he was haunted by sadness, all that Sylus had done was to fight tooth and nail to overcome it. No one was there to whisper soothing words for him. There wasn’t a hand gently caressing his back as he wept. He had to grow quickly, hardening his heart before someone or something else breaks it.  

Yet, Sylus finds himself wrapping his arms around Y/N. His embrace encompasses her in a warmth that melts away all of her troubles. His hold tightens and he leans his head against hers, a gentle reminder that he is here for her, ready to catch her when she falls. 

Sylus doesn’t know how long they’ve sat like that but when Y/N finally lifts her head, her hair shielding her swollen eyes and tear streaked face, he notices just how drowsy she has gotten. 

“Hey.” Sylus whispers as he brushes away the strands of disheveled hair. He delicately wipes away the remaining tears lingering on her cheeks. 

Y/N says nothing but Sylus can clearly see the gratitude glowing in her eyes. 

Leaning in, Sylus rests his forehead against hers. 

“Let’s get you to bed.” 

Sylus then pecks Y/N’s forehead before he is carrying her to their shared bedroom, the important document left forgotten.

[choism]

Jester's Game | b.tc

Captain Buggy x Pirate!afab!Reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff (If you squint)

Summary: Trying to overtake Captain Buggy's ship leaves you asking questions, and surprisingly, getting answers

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: top!buggy, afab!reader, unprotected sex (pls dont), cunnilingus, fingering, creampie, squirting, rough sex, gentle sex (yeah wild), inappropriate use of detached limbs, spit as lube (also a no no), overstimulation, pet names (sweetheart, princess)

A/N: WOOHOO ITS MY FIRST NON KPOP FIC!! I knew I would write for other stuff eventually but I definitely did not expect it to be a recent hyperfixation. Buggy just has me bricked up okay! Anyway I hope y'all enjoy, don't forget to let me know what you thought of the fic in the tags !

It’s a rather unfortunate series of events, really. Sure, you could’ve told your navigator to sail away from the ship with the giant clown crossbones flag. Yeah, it might’ve helped if you had told your crew that they were about to fight some of the toughest pirates in the East Blue. But where’s the fun in that? As their captain, it’s your job to seek the adventure, and well, this was an adventure all right.

It started with you telling your men to approach, cannons firing, your crew hopping their ship, the infamous ship commandeered by none other Buggy The Clown. Yes, the ship your measly crew has decided to board. Listen, it was strategic! Buggy had somehow gotten the map to the grand line back, and your ship just so happened to be within the vicinity of his, so why not seek the opportunity to take it? Well that was your first mistake.

Now, you find yourself here, hands bound behind your back and kneeling with your crew in front of Buggy’s stupid, dumb throne in his stupid, dumb circus tent cabin.

“You all truly are fools for thinking you could take on my band of freaks,” Buggy lazily sprawls over his throne, seemingly unimpressed by your, in his words, ‘lackluster crew’.

“It’s funny actually, how pathetic it was, I mean even Mohji got in a few punches! Ha! Truly a fine show.” The man you assume being the Mohji that Buggy had just poked fun at, slumps his shoulders sadly at his jab. “Now, time to get to the good stuff…” Buggy trails off, standing up and taking a few strides in your direction, his dirty boots stopping directly in front of you. He detaches his hand and uses it to lift your head, pointing your chin up to look him in the eye.

Looking up, you spit and it lands on his cheek, he simply swipes it off with his attached, gloved hand. “So what if you defeated us, it doesn’t make you any better of a pirate, and doesn’t get you any closer to the One Piece.” You tilt your head and smirk. He may have overcome your crew, but he will never overcome your overwhelming ego and pride. It matches his just as equally.

“Ah, that's where you’re wrong, princess,” His grin is just as wide as yours, and briefly you’re confused, what could he mean? “Given your set of thieving skills, probably some of the best in the East Blue, I’ve heard, you’re gonna join my band of freaks, and I’m not giving you a choice sweetheart,” Buggy removes his hand from your chin, and it floats to his arm, re-attaching itself.

“Boys, throw their crew overboard, we have no use for them.” He rolls his eyes and sits back on his throne, “Oh! And go show them to their new quarters, make them feel at home.” Buggy laughs a deep boisterous laugh, one that genuinely sends shivers down your spine.

The pirates lead you into, what is actually, quite a nice room in the lower deck of the cabin, lit by a few candles, and a cot in the corner. Surprisingly, they cut you out of your ropes, and shut the door without locking it. What’s their deal? Don’t they know you can escape at any time if you wanted? Sneak out and steal one of their emergency boats, and sail to the nearest Island? Granted, you aren’t sure where the nearest Island is, you’re a thief, not a navigator.

Instead of worrying about escaping, you roam the small room, admiring your surroundings. The whole ship is clown themed, front he flags to the cabin to everything, but this room is different. Not a single sign of jester-like decorations anywhere. In fact, it’s as if this cabin was decorated specifically for you. Before you can think more of it, the door opens suddenly.

Buggy enters, and closes the door behind him. When he enters you’re sitting on the cot, legs crossed and unamused.

“Not thinking about escaping? Not that you could anyway, we are miles away from the nearest island, and realistically it would take you days to get there on one of our measly boats.” He rolls his eyes, as if annoyed by how small and fragile the boats are, before sitting backwards on the chair at the short desk next to the cot.

“So what do you even need a thief for? Why am I here?” You blurt, already growing impatient from the lack of information being given to you.

“I need you for many reasons, being a thief is only one of them, sweetheart.” Buggy grins and removes his hat, setting it on the desk. “You already have connections at the grand line, and while I know you need my map to get there, I know that you know the people I need to talk to, to gain safe entry without slaughtering half the fucking pirates there.” He leans back and relaxes a bit, observing your facial features.

“And why do you think any of the people I know would want to help you? You’re just some lowly pirate.” You spit at him, angered by his casualness. In what world would you even willingly help him? Who does he think he is?

“Ha…Me? A lowly pirate? This coming from the literal captain of a crew is hilarious! Tell me another joke, please.” He grins knowingly, he knows how to get a rise out of you for sure. You look over his facial expression, smugness overtakes his face and it makes your stomach twist, not with disgust though for some odd reason, with another feeling you don’t quite recognize. 

This whole situation has you feeling all kinds of anxious. How did you just happen to raid the ship of a pirate who just happened to need you for this specific thing, and why is his presence making you feel so…weird? Something isn’t right here, and it can’t be because of your connections to the grand line. No, he’s hiding something. 

“What are you hiding, clown? There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

His face drops, and he gets suddenly very serious, “Listen here, princess,” Buggy gets up from the chair and gets close to you, leaning down, your noses almost touching. “You’re gonna get me to the grand line, I don’t care if I have to torture it out of you, got it? No more questions tonight.” He gets up and suddenly grins very brightly, as if nothing ever happened. “Night night!” Buggy walks out and slams the door, then you hear a locking sound.

Fuck, he locked you in your room. You should’ve expected this, honestly. The way he reacted to your question was so strange. You knew there was something fishy, but you didn’t think whatever it was could’ve prompted that kind of reaction out of him. 

***

The next day you wake up to yelling outside of your cramped room. Yawning, you get up and put your ear to the door,

“I’m sorry Captain Buggy! I didn’t know that was their ship I swear I promise!”

You hear what sounds like a kick to the jaw and a yelp,

“Didn’t know? Didn’t know?! You couldn’t tell by the giant crossbones flag that very obviously bares their symbol? I’m tired of you, someone go throw him off the deck.”

You hear screams and pleads of “No please!” and “I didn’t know I’m sorry captain!” before hearing water splash, then silence, then- oh shit footsteps coming towards your room. You scramble back to your cot and lay down, pretending to sleep. You hear a couple of knocks before hearing a feint “What the fuck am I doing, I go where I want!” Before Buggy barges into the room after unlocking it.

“Get up, I know you heard everything.” He spits gruffly, sitting back in the chair again the same way as yesterday. You sit up abruptly. Last night you couldn’t shake this feeling, of what you felt when Buggy had gotten so serious, and it’s just gotten worse being in his presence. Your abdomen feels hot, your ears feel hot, everything feels hot. It’s like butterflies in your stomach if the butterflies were armed with knives.

“Yes, I did hear, what do you mean by my symbol? I thought bumping into you was a coincidence?” Buggy smiles faintly, and chuckles.

“Yes, it was, I wasn’t informed of what ship we attacked, just that my men captured you all, oh but when I saw you…I knew.” Buggy stands up and motions for you to do the same, getting so close to you, your chests almost touch. He brings his hand to your arm, caressing down the length before gripping your wrist harshly, causing you to wince. “Do you….” he trails off, “Do you really not remember me?” He brings his eyes from your arm to your face, making direct eye contact.

You struggle to find words, what does he mean, remember? Yeah, he gives you a strange feeling everytime you're near him, but you’ve never met this man in your entire life. You think. Honestly you can’t remember anything before the age of seventeen.

“I– no, no I don’t…”

His smile fades, and he lets go of you, “I thought you would remember once you saw me, we were on Gold Roger’s crew together years ago, but you went missing after a particularly tough battle.” He pauses, thinking carefully about what to say next, “You– We– We were close, and I was devastated, I thought you were dead.” He’s being surprisingly vulnerable right now, and it’s kind of scaring you.

“I don’t really remember anything before I turned seventeen, All I know is one day I woke up on an island, a group of pirates took me in, I left, and I’ve been on my own since. The only reason I am where I am today is because I wanted to find who I was, and I figured I could find that out at the grand line.” You feel overwhelmingly sad. Why are you sad? You don’t even know him.

There’s a long silence between the two of you, it’s uncomfortable, tight, and makes you want to leave, until he says, “Let me show you.” He says abruptly, and you think you see a blush across his face.

“Sorry, I mean, please,” Buggy steps into your space again, this time his eyes flit between your lips and your eyes, back to your lips. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find you, I’m sorry you had to go through that, I missed you so much y/n” That was the first time he’s said your name this entire time, but it’s not one you recognize.

“Is that my name?” Your lip quivers, he’s so close now, your lips are inches apart.

“Yes it is, y/n, sweetheart, princess, I’ll call you whatever you want, just let me show you.” The thick air has disappeared and is now replaced with tension. Something deeper, heavier, fills the room. But it’s not a bad thing.

“Let me show you who you were to me.”

You let his face drop to yours, and your lips finally connect.

The kiss is slow, languid. It’s like his lips were meant to connect with yours. Buggy wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you in closer, and kissing you deeper. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you let him kiss you as deep as he wants. The pace quickens and he slots his leg in between yours, rubbing against your pants and providing much needed friction.

You moan into his touch and he walks the both of you backwards until the back of your knees reach the bed. He lowers you onto it and hovers above you, kissing you again before departing. “Is this okay?” Buggy asks, brushes his hands underneath the bottom of your shirt, slowly lifting it.

“Only if you return the favor.” He chuckles and lowers his head to your neck, sucking and biting gently while riding up your shirt until your chest is exposed. You sit up briefly to take off your shirt and as promised, he does the same. He isn’t overly ripped like most pirates are, but he’s still well toned. His muscles flex as he shifts lower, kissing down your chest, down your stomach and stopping just above the navel.

“When I saw you were the one my men captured, it took my breath away,” He lifts your hips so he can remove your pants and undergarments, “I was scared, anxious, I didn’t know what to do, so I pretended I knew you for your skills, not for your past.” After removing everything, he pushes back, kissing your thighs before sitting up, taking his gloves off with his teeth and throwing them to the side. Man that was hot.

Buggy detaches one of his hands and lets it roam up your torso, reaches your neck and gives it a gentle squeeze. Before leading his fingers over your mouth, asking for entry. You grant it and his index and middle finger slip into your mouth, swirling your saliva around and coating them generously. “When you suspected I knew more, I didn’t know what to do. When you boarded I just knew you by name, not face, there was no way I could’ve expected this.”

He removes his hand from your mouth and moves it down to your center, rubbing through your folds gently and inserting two fingers, scissoring you open and prepping you for what's to come. Buggy uses his still detached hand to remove his own trousers, his cock springing free from its confines. He strokes it slowly, clearly getting off to his detached hand fingering you open.

“Buggy…” You moan, you can’t even reply or form a sentence, the pleasure too good.

“Shhh just relax sweetheart, I’ll take care of you.” He brings his hand away from your now dripping cunt, reattaching it and leaning down. You feel his breathe over your core, he kisses your clit before taking it in his mouth, lapping up your taste and fucking you onto his tongue. You can feel your orgasm approaching quickly as he flits between sucking on your clit and tonguing inside of you, but he pulls away.

“Fuck! Why’d you–”

You’re interrupted by his cock entering you and your legs being lifted by his hands so he can enter as deep as possible. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. His cock fits so nice and feels so good and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Fuck you’re so tight and wet for me, so fucking good huh? Letting me fuck you like this.” His pupils are so blown out, he watches his own cock pull out and start to thrust into you, it just fuels your arousal further. Buggy starts out slow, just getting you used to his size before he picks up the pace, fucking into you even deeper and faster.

“Shit, gonna cum Buggy please.” He moves your legs to prop onto his shoulders and he grabs onto your waist, pushing down and holding you in place as he fucks into you roughly.

“Gonna cum for me? Go ahead sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.” He moves his hand over your abdomen and presses down, the pressure making you feel dizzy. You feel white hot, the band finally snapping as you come. “Fuck, gonna cum soon too, gonna fill you up so good.”

Buggy relentlessly fucks into your cunt, overstimulating you and causing a pressure to build that’s unfamiliar. “Wait Buggy I, fuck I feel weird it feels good.” Soon, with a loud cry you feel a wetness rush between your legs, causing you to let out a loud string of moans and curses.

“Squirting for me already? God you’re full of surprises. Shit, I’m coming.” A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his hot cum fill you up, as promised. It feels so good. He slows down and pulls out, his load leaking out of you and onto the sheets below. “So good for me.” He whispers, leaning down and kissing you gently. He cleans the both of you up quickly and gets dressed, ready to go back to his quarters for the night.

“Wait Buggy, before you go…” You trail off and he turns around, listening intently. “If you don’t mind, can you tell me more about my- about our, past? I need to know where I came from, what happened.” Buggy smiles gently, walking up and kissing you on the forehead.

“Of course princess, later”

© Choism 2023. do not repost or translate.

[mercutio-the-velaryon]

Too much discourse time to cornplate...

Something about Mel slashing around a palette knife doused in red when she's painting Noxus, ellicting this sense of violence, and rage that of course shows her frustration with Jayce but also symbolises the inner conflict of her as a person (empath) and her as a Medarda. When Mel is in this quiet yet subtlely hostile state the strokes of red she applies to the canvas seamlessly blend in with what's already there but she instantly halts her assault of the canvas when Jayce tells her that Viktor's dying. Her empathy immediately overtakes her anger, her Mage nature overcoming her Noxian conditioning/upbringing which I think foreshadows her future actions in the series.

(This shot is also half submerged in shadow and half in light - once again reaffirming Mel's internal conflict, you could argue because Jayce is literally on the light side that his presence indicates that he is consequential perhaps a harbringer of her good-naturedness and empathy and what not)

Also of note, Mel completes (or defiles) the painting with broad brushstrokes of gold, her colour, her magic, her empathy.

These brushstrokes quite literally look like her magic. The gold accents are smooth and fluid and have very obviously not been made with a palette knife. Its splattered so passionately and interrupts such a triumphant vision of her homeland; Its a fervent rebellion against her mother, her roots and her upbringing but I think it also serves to hint at her eventual return to Noxus, where I believe, her empath nature will be tested and will win out in the end; she will figure Noxus out, but she will not conform to the ideals of others.

(Me getting emo because Mel's magic looks like brushstrokes, she's just a painter at heart man I'm drinking tonight)

[signedkoko]

Hello Koko! I Hope you had a good day/night, and that you are doing well and not overworking yourself:)

I think I saw that you didn’t have requests at the moment but that they were open so here a little request for headcanon/oneshot with Vox, Alastor and Angel dust separately with overlord gn!reader? (If you don’t take 3 at a time maybe only Vox & Alastor?)

They Thinks s/o is sweet, like they’re always smiling and being kind of everyone most of the time, they can’t believe they would even be able to hurt a fly even if they’re an overlord

but then they get told she just unalived her colleague (they were both leaders of the entreprise) because she wanted to be in full possession of their entreprise, maybe they owned a model enterprise or were music producers (like they were the one selling every musics in hell or sum like that?) how do they react?

(Really sorry if it’s unclear or if something is wrong, thanks for reading my request!)

-🐚

Alastor | Vox [Romantic]

In which you are their sweet little overlord who'd never be cruel! ...Or so they thought. Reader is genderneutral.

Your company was your baby, your castle, your absolute everything

And for the longest time, you'd always shared it with the co-founder

They had a lovely personality but worked behind the scenes for the most part while you acted on the main stage

Hell, you'd even introduced them to your otherworldly partner, Alastor, and had only told him of the good

So it was in fact quite a surprise when you turned up home with bloody hands and the most joyous smile on your face, almost as wide as your wedding day

That in itself wasn't out of the norm; you were an overlord after all! Alastor knew you could handle yourself, as much as you opted to ignore it

" Oh Al, I have great news! "

" Do tell, my dear! "

When you explained that the company was all yours, he was quick to catch on

Now that, that managed to surprise him

" I really thought you loved the gal! "

Even more surprising is how you'd managed to hide your true feelings from him for so long; he was sure he could have sniffed out your malice

But you were just that good at hiding it

He probably makes a joke about how you could be plotting his murder as we speak

" Maybe! "

His smile falters a slight bit

But you don't notice

By Vox's own request, your enterprise was kept unattached from his own; merely partners

This was because it meant better publicity if two companies got along so well, but also because he didn't want you to be overcome with the demands of his two co-founders

Yeah, Velvette and Valentino pissed him off to double hell and back, but he considered them friends

A few times, the V's and you and your co-founder would host lavish dinner parties, discussing economic growth and working together on projects

You never seemed to shy away from introducing your partner in industry, and as far as Vox could tell, you were as close as friends could be before anything got steamy

You were just the friendliest person he'd ever met; the number of fans you had showed that, but you'd even gotten favour from the other two V's with little effort on your behalf

So, of course, he was stunned when you called him in the middle of work

" You know you're the first to hear all my company news; I am now the sole owner! "

He could hear you smile through the phone, which almost scared him, and soon your phone was fizzling as he travelled through it

The first thing he noticed was that you were both standing in a puddle

A red puddle

Fuck

Ok

" Thats great and all, but lets get you out of here, and maybe—yeah, maybe we can call in a cleanup crew. "

He is your number one PR team; your overtaking of the company is seen as 'heroic' because you ' fought against a corrupt co-founder'

It surprises him, but he's almost proud of you; you are crazy strong and crazy capable

Author's Note - I do accept up to three characters for headcanons, but as per my FAQ I don't write Angel! Either way, welcome to the blog (again) shell/conch anon! Your idea is very lovely 🖤

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hii, I hope you're doing well!! This is my first time requesting so I was REALLY nervous :")) I saw some posts about Y/N accidentally calling some of the creeps their "husband", and I was wondering if you could do one with Jeff? I'm really curious of how it would be like with him and I really like him ^^

Listen. Listen. This man has been wormed into my brain for the longest time and my softness for him came out today, and this became like twice as long as I originally meant to to be, because I love him. I honestly ended up wanting it to be longer, but this took me way too long to write, so I cut it short. I hope you enjoy <3

While Jeff would never, ever admit it to anyone, he has spent hours thinking about what it would be like to be married to you. To be married to you, live with you, be able to wake up to you every single day, for everyone around the two of you to fully know you belong to each other. The unfortunate downside to that fact is that Jeff doesn't think he deserves it. He doesn't believe he deserves to be so happily married to you with all of the horrible things he's done, with all the horrible trauma he regularly has to deal with and make you put up with (despite you routinely telling him it doesn't bother you at all and you love him all the same, flaws and all). He thinks you're just far too good for him, and so the bitter, depressed part of his brain constantly tells him that'll never happen.

So, needless to say, Jeff is about to get his shit rocked mentally. The two of you were out and about, and you'd bumped into an old friend (i.e., someone important in Jeff's eyes), and introduced them to Jeff. Jeff, in his attempt to seem like a decent person under the watchful eyes of someone you have known for such a long time, does pull himself off pretty well, at least until you accidentally slip up and refer to Jeff as your husband. He feels like you've just punched him straight in the gut. He can't breathe, his heart is hammering in his chest, and he feels like he's gonna vomit, but he carries on with a passive smile, hiding all of his inner turmoil, keeping it locked inside until the two of you can get away from all of the prying eyes in this public space. The entire way home he still feels like he's gonna be sick, trying everything he can just to keep it together. The second you're through your front door he's wheeling around and pinning you to it, arms beside your head as his chest heaves, eyes slicked with a mixture of tears, confusion, and desperation. You can't tell what's wrong with him, and he can't tell why he's reacting so strongly, his mind foggy amidst his air-deprived anxiety attack. The two of you stand there, your hands comfortingly cupping his face while you coach him to breathe, to calm down.

By the time he's caught his breath, he's leaning on you, his body weighing against you as you rest against the door behind you. His arms are tight around your waist as his face nuzzles against your neck, and you're overcome with intense worry, unaware of what got him like this in the first place. "Did you mean it...?" His voice eventually trails off, and the emotion in his voice is untraceable, his trauma brain overtaking as your words replay in his mind over and over again. Your brows knit together as you try to figure out just what it is he's referring to, and he answers the question for you, saying he meant when you referred to him as your husband. He looks absolutely broken in your arms, and a lightbulb goes off in your mind as you finally realize why. You've heard it, the things he says to Liu, or BEN, his words about how he doesn't deserve you, how you deserve to marry someone better than him, soon followed by their chastising words about how that's not true, and suddenly his worrisome behavior from the last few hours that you've picked up on (because you always notice these things) suddenly makes sense.

You reassure him that of course you meant it, why wouldn't you? Jeff feels like he's being chastised once more, his cheeks puffed out in a pout as he avoids looking at you as you lecture him about how you'd love to marry him one day, and how he absolutely deserves to have you, how you're not too good for him, a lecture you should have given him long ago. He ignores the tears streaming down his face once more, ignores the thudding of his own heart in his chest, ignores the dying voice of denial in the back of his mind, but what he can't ignore is your lips slotting so perfectly against his own, or your fingers stroking along his scars in the way that always makes him fall apart. He's still not completely sure he deserves you, but goddamnit, with the way you're looking at him right now, he's sure as hell not gonna let anyone else marry you and take you away from him. Not with how tenderly you're holding him, how gently you're pressing your lips across his scorched skin, not with how lovingly you're gazing at him, as if he's the most beloved person in your life, because of course he is to you, just as you are to him. 'Husband' ends up becoming one of your favorite nicknames for him following that day, a nickname that always has his skin flushing red and his eyes softening in a way they only do for you. A nickname for now, and a title not too far into the future that he wears with pride.