#at least they were amused once they stopped being puzzled

[slavicafire]

today at work I fumbled a very simple sentence in the stupidest of ways in front of my slightly flabbergasted british coworkers. fumbling the past participle of "to fly" so bad that it led to me commenting upon someone's hubris in the words of "he fucked a bit too close to the sun"

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited)¹ retired simon has nowhere to go, so you offer. [ one, two, three]

this was a stupid idea, a dangerous idea; one that could potentially get you hurt— you knew that, but the temperature was below freezing and you couldn't bear the thought of letting him walk to god knows where. you wouldn't allow that, not when you could offer help.

you came to a slow halt beside the man, rolling down the passenger side window and smiling softly, awkwardly. “hi! mind if i ask where you're headed?" he's taller than you assumed, standing at least a foot or two taller than you, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his all-black tee.

the fitted clothing accentuates his large frame, hinting at the strength that lies beneath. a mask covers his face, a skull painted onto the fabric, and a large military duffle bag is slung over his shoulder, weathered and worn.

he stops abruptly and gradually swivels his head to face you. his eyes are a striking shade of brown when they meet your gaze— they look……hollow, devoid of emotion. you smile once more and tilt your head, your palms slick with sweat against the steering wheel. “s’just, the temps gonna drop a bit more later in the night and i thought i’d give you a ride, so you don't freeze to death on your way.”

your attempt at a joke with the man falls short and you clear your throat and drum your thumbs softly, feeling a tad bit embarrassed. you jump when he finally speaks. his voice is like velvet dipped in honey. it's deep, rough, gravelly, and accented. you can't help but be taken aback for a moment, as a delightful warmth spreads through your body at the mere sound of it.

“y’r parents ever taugh’ you not ta talk t’strangers?”

you purse your lips and cluck your teeth, trailing behind him as he resumes his stride. sure, you should have driven off, gone back to your cozy apartment to indulge in a couple of movies, and drink yourself into a stupor but, you simply couldn't bring yourself to do so.

“my name’s _____, what’s yours?” he stops briefly and cranes his neck to the sky for a moment with a hint of irritation, before breathing out a heavy sigh; he seems hesitant, confused— and doubtful. then he turns to face you and your small fiat. “simon," he says softly. smiling you pull to a stop, “well, we’re not strangers anymore, simon.”

simon scoffs in slight amusement but slowly makes his way to you, when he reaches the passenger side window, you can clearly see a hint of distrust lingering in his eyes. it’s clear that he’s not accustomed to kindness from strangers. but you remain undeterred, your grin unwavering, as you lean over to open the door for him.

with a stiff nod of appreciation, he settles into the passenger seat, his worn-out bag settling between his thighs as he sinks into the comfort of the cushioned upholstery.

as you pull away from the curb, the man's eyes wander out the window, lost in thought. "so, where are you headed?" you ask gently, voice laced with genuine curiosity as you try to break the tension, your voice trembling slightly.

however, his response is nothing more than a cold, detached stare out the window. it’s as if he's not really there, as if his mind is lost in some distant place, far away from the reality of this moment. and yet, there's something captivating about his emptiness, something that draws you in despite the warning signs flashing in your mind.

“could be a killer.” simon voices, head slanting towards you; he looks comically large for your small fiat car and you can't help but smile. “are you?” he grunts but doesn't respond. the car speeds through the night, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the rhythmic thumping of your heart. he's like a puzzle waiting to be solved, a mystery begging to be unraveled; and you were curious.

“the nearest shelter,” he finally utters. “thats where i’m headed.” you hum softly and swallow thickly; this was a stupid idea, a dangerous idea; one that could potentially get you hurt, you knew that, but—

“stay with me tonight.”

[luveline]

hi queen 😙

could you please do one where the BAU are staying in another state for a case so they have to stay in a hotel and for some reason hotch has to come see reader in the morning or before bed or something so he knocks on the door of her room and she opens and she’s just standing there with like her hair in two braids and like matching pink pyjamas and hotch just has a little laugh because he’s never seen that side of her before?? 💕💕

this would be like season 1 or 2 hotch :D

cw reader has hair that can be put into two braids

He texts you first but you don't answer. Hotch isn't happy to encroach on your space so early but he can't remember what you said last night about the killer's motivations and he needs to know, desperately, in case this missing piece of the puzzle can stop another young man from being murdered. 

"L/N?" he asks, knocking on the door quickly. "Y/N, are you awake?" 

There's a definite sleeping groan. Hotch winces at the sound but what else can he do? You'll have to wake up in an hour anyway. 

"Y/N? I'm sorry to wake you, but I need to ask you about Cory, last night's victim? You said it seemed more like an arsonist than a murderer, what did you mean by–" 

The door swings open. "...that." Hotch stares at you. 

You have your hair braided away from your face, strands rocked free and frizzy. More amusing is the baby pink pyjamas you're wearing; adorable little slips of fabric, pants that stop mid-calf and a camisole with soft lace at the chest. Hotch immediately looks back to your face as he realises his once over, but he can't hold back a laugh. A small chuckle, harmless. 

"Are you laughing at me?" you ask tiredly, voice croaky but threaded with amusement. "You woke me up, okay? This is your fault. Did you bring me coffee, at least?" 

Hotch puts his empty hands up in defeat. 

"Come in, then, before someone else sees me." 

Hotch follows you inside. He doesn't feel any pressure or awkwardness, but he needs to make sure you aren't either, and so he takes a cross-armed position against the wall. You run your hand down a braid and pull out the elastic, absentminded as you shake out your hair. 

"I said it was more like arson because of the mess. Arsons like to ruin things. And I just don't see how it could be solely pleasure based after such a massacre," —you move to the second braid and repeat the process— "the adrenaline runs out eventually, but the blood was– it was everywhere. It would've taken effort. There are photos on my phone if you want to see." 

You gibe him your phone, open to photographs you took last night. Hotch clicks through them in disgust. Like you said, it takes a lot of effort to make a crime scene look like this. 

"We could be looking for someone with an impulse control disorder," Horch guesses. "Our pool of suspects would completely change. We've been looking for people who have untoward desires centred around teenage boys–" 

"But if we're searching for someone who can't control their impulses we could easily be looking at a teenage boy. He'd have reason to be with his victims that wouldn't cause concern." 

Hotch finds it very difficult to take you seriously in your pinks. He laughs again, and you know exactly what it is he's laughing at, waving him away as you bend down by your suitcase under the desk. "Go sharpen up, Hotchner. And get me a coffee, please." You glance at him from over your shoulder. "I'd like to see you in your pyjamas." 

"I'm sure you would, agent." 

Hotch thinks more than he should about you in your thin pyjamas, the way they hugged your thighs and the naked lengths of your arms, your ankles, he's ridiculous, but it's stuff he's not used to seeing. He's usually so focused. 

He brings you a coffee and an apology croissant, which you eat in pleased silence beside him, fully dressed, hair tamed. He can't not see you as you were that morning, eyes puffy with tiredness but a hundred times the professional he'd been. 

"I can feel you looking at me," you murmur. "Laugh again and I'm telling Gideon." 

"Ah, and he'd reprimand me."  

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" you ask, almost monotone as you drink your coffee. "Do you have the case file for Patrick Gorden? I wanna compare the blood splatter on the walls." 

[hurtcomfortficstilltheend]

Swamp Oak

Charles Rowland x gn!Reader

Summary: A tranquil walk on a chilly morning with Charles.

Warnings; none, only fluff, a kiss maybe.

Word count: 770

You are walking down a dirt path overflowing with different tree leaves. You lazily wonder if you will be able to recognize at least one species, since you are so far from home. 

Charles' arm is linked to yours, he turns to look at you, puzzled, when you stop on your tracks and look up. “These are European oak trees.” 

“Mmh?” 

“Yeah, I don’t know what species exactly, haven’t studied them yet, but I know it’s European because of the soft edges of the leaves and the shape of the acorns.” You squat down to pick up a perfectly intact looking seed. It’s cupule still there and all. You stand back up, re-link your arms, and hand it to him. “Look.”

He takes it into his glove and inspects it as you pick up the pace once again. “I didn’t know there was more than one type of oak.” He rolls the seed between his fingers and then puts it in the pocket of his coat. His earring dangles with every step.

“Yeah, I started noticing them a few years back in my city. Santa Fe has a bunch of them scattered around the urban area, they aren’t native, of course. There is this one type that’s called swamp oak –from up north, I think– and it has the most beautiful acorns, they are almost spherical, dark with the cutest brown stripes. My sister and I used to play with them, pretending they were marbles.” You find him staring. “If I find some here I will show them to you, the acorns are right in season.”

He smiles, a glint of amusement in his eye, and you can’t help but look away. You bump your head against his shoulder. “What?”, he chuckles.

“You can tell me if I’m being annoying, you know that.” You smile at him, but feel suddenly like your expression is a facade. “I don’t mean to bore you.”

“You couldn’t if you wanted to. I love how your mind works. And I would love to see a swan oak one day, I can already tell they’re mint.”

You laugh at that, your worries dissipating. “It’s swamp oak, but yeah, I’m glad.” You feel your face heating up slightly, even in the chilly autumn morning.

You keep walking for a while. The park is beautiful, all browns, yellows and oranges, the drying leaves crunching beneath your boots. 

You look to your side. Charles notices and turns his whole body to face you. You are both grinning so bad.

“Hey”, you whisper, your hands climbing up his arms and finding a home in the nape of his neck.

“Hey”, he murmurs back, pulling you closer by the waist. 

You fit into each other's embrace so naturally, as if that’s exactly where you’re meant to be. 

“You have such beautiful eyes…”, he says softly, his breath fanning across your philtrum and tickling your lips.

“It’s central heterochromia.” He’s caught off guard, and starts laughing heartily, pulls you closer and hides his face on your shoulder. You hug him back and smile, but also kick yourself mentally for spoiling the moment. You can feel the vibrations of him trying to regain his breath all through your chest. “I’m sorry.” You pull away from him a little so you can see his face. “You can kiss me now.”

It’s sweet and innocent. His lips are soft and his curls more so. Your noses brush as you both take a breath, and you take it as a perfect opportunity to add: “Heterochromia sounds so fancy, but It’s not even that rare–” He pecks your lips, a smile on his. You can’t contain your excitement.

You wonder how odd it would be to step away for a little bit to run a few laps and do a little victory dance, but you decide to contain yourself and hug Charles instead. You start tapping rhythms in his back, and he gets the hint to hold you tighter. You are completely full right there and like that, the sun coming up behind you and the first rays promising some warmth. You are just fine though, Charles sharing his and you yours, in perfect equilibrium.

“Do you want to go grab some tea?” He asks you, still engulfed in the embrace.

Your face is squished into the side of his neck, so your voice comes out a little muffled. “Sounds nice. In a little bit though.” 

You start swaying, not quite dancing, but as close as you’re gonna get without some music. You feel completely at peace, your rumbling stomach can wait a few. 

He hums. “Brills.”

.

.

.

A/N: Autumn and college are kicking my butt, i wrote this as a little treat :P

Tell me what you think! Feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[shin-meddlesome-hero]

Some notes on Char’s Counterattack while it’s still fresh in my brain and right before I watch video-essays about how I didn’t understand the movie. (With spoilers)

For starters, it was as gay as promised. I’ve seen the Charmuro scuffle scene like a million times and it turned out to actually be gayer in context. For me, this is the aftermath of a very bitter and harsh divorce. The thing is already unsalvageable. They still try to talk it out every time they’re near each other, but Amuro is about to give up on Char completely (if he hasn’t, already). He even tells Lalah that he doesn’t want to be with that guy for all eternity as newtype ghosts, that’s how done he’s with Char.

As with Char, it feels that we needed another anime season or at least a couple of OVA’s to explain how he got there. I know that it had something to do with how disillusioned he was by the events at the end of Zeta, but the movie feels like it needed to give more context about him. It’s very clear that his ideals take a back seat in favor of his real motivations. He just wants to get back at the universe. Would trowing a meteor and freezing Earth actually help Earth’s restoration and humanity’s evolution? Did he stop to think that by doing such thing he’ll get Sayla and Kamille killed? Or was he too far gone to care about anyone that isn’t Lalah and maybe Amuro?

This may be unintentional but it’s amusing that the first part of Quess Paraya’s arc looks like a teen girl’s power fantasy: she meets Amuro, she gets adopted by Char, she happens to be the most special Newtype who becomes an ace pilot in a few days, there’s two boys after her, Char entrusts her to act on special missions and she even gets to kill her lousy dad. Under this framework it makes sense that she acts so selfishly all the time. Of course this later takes a dark turn when she starts feeling all the horrors of war and eventually gets killed by one of the older women she antagonized. Despite her not being a nice person at all, she was only a kid who was affected by her family situation and desperately needed a father figure. Amuro was honest enough to realize that he couldn’t fulfill that need (and he didn’t have to), on the other hand, Char admits that he took advantage of her and used her as a machine. He would’ve never done that to Kamille, that’s how low he’s fallen.

Finally, Char’s last words were about how Lalah Sune could’ve been a mother to him, showing that at the end he was unable to get over both his mother’s and Lalah’s death, which is very tragic from a man that most of the time came out as Larger than Life. However, none of this justifies his actions. Char’s Counterattack was the last piece in the puzzle that is Char Aznable, and after watching it, all I can conclude is that he’s kind of a loser, isn’t he?

(Yes, I’m aware that it’s way more complicated than that, there’s still much to say about how he projected on Amuro and the nature of his relationships with other characters of the franchise among other topics like Amuro’s growth and Hathaway’s arc, but these are just preliminary thoughts. I may do a more thoughtful review once I write more about Zeta and ZZ. Also those video essays about how I Don’t Understand Char are still on my to-watch list, my perspective could change after getting through all that).

[betustamorla]

Arkham Abyss Files: Red Hood Memory I

Jason(16) arrives at the Manor and meets Helena(15)

Jason looked a little incredulously at all the expensiveness that surrounded him; all the wood was carved and polished, with no scratches, stains, or broken bits; the floors were of cold-looking stones with patterns on them; the walls had paintings of beautiful places or flowers; the lights were all covered by glass or crystals hanging or being supported by gleaming metals…

"What do you think Jason?" Bruce's voice broke him from his trance.

"It's… expensive." He said, not sure if he was being rude.

Bruce chuckled. "It is expensive." Then he rested a hand on his shoulder. "You have time to get used to it. Dick had a hard time adjusting to it as well." 

"Oh. Is he here?" Jason asked anxiously.

"No, he's living in Blüdheaven now," Bruce answered evenly, if he had an opinion on it, Jason couldn't guess. "But Helena is around on the weekends."

"Who’s Helena?" 

Bruce blinked once, and Jason had the feeling that that was his surprised face.

"My daughter. Biological daughter." He added as an afterthought.

"Oh…" Jason felt a little silly for not knowing, he knew of Dick because he remembered that being a hot topic in Gotham when the circus orphan had been adopted, and Bruce had talked about him before. And he remembered vaguely some news about Bruce Wayne's wife's sudden death as well...so it followed that they'd had a child together.

Jason looked at Bruce, his eyes seemed to reflect amusement, "It's good you don't look too much into the gossip section of the news."

"Yeah…" Jason said, rubbing his neck. Did his daughter make it often into the gossip section? Or just being a Wayne automatically marked someone as the target for gossip? He guessed he'd find out soon enough.

"I think the next room will be more to your liking," Bruce continued the tour of the house, opening a set of double doors to the most impressive library he had seen. It had two floors, and every wall space had a bookcase filled with books. His mind went blank. "I'm assuming you like it," Bruce's voice sounded amused.

Jason opened his mouth to answer but no sound came out, he cleared his throat. "Yeah. This place is amazing!" 

~•~•~•~•~

He had been living in the Manor for 2 weeks and he had gotten used to it, or at least to not lost his way searching for the kitchen. Jason had been so busy catching up in school and bugging Bruce to let him go out with him at nights that he had forgotten completely that there was supposed to be someone else living at the Manor, besides him, Alfred and Bruce. Alfred had mentioned in passing that the young Miss hadn't come back last weekend because she had a volleyball competition in Metropolis, but Jason hadn't really cared much hence why it was out of his head so easily.

So it was a surprise when after entering the house after school just when he had put his feet in the first step of the staircase, a girl was looking at him from the top of them. He stared, and she stared back at him. And Jason wouldn't admit it later but he had gaped and stared stunned at the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

She cocked her head to one side with a little smile on her face "Hello," She said raising one hand, and he noted her voice to be soft and pleasant.

“Uh, hi,” Jason answered a little clipped, and he kicked at himself internally.

Another awkward moment passed in silence, neither of them moving. Jason felt how she studied him unabashedly, her gaze so much like Bruce's when he was trying to puzzle out something about a case in the Cave. 

“So you're Dick's replacement huh?” She finally said starting to descend the stairs.

Jason stiffened because he didn't like how that sounded, even if her tone had been nothing but conversational. Mistrust instantly surged in him.

“So what?” He asked as she stopped just in front of him, looking down from the second step of the stairs.

“So nothing,” She answered in amusement and smiled at his skittishness. And Jason wasn't blushing. “I'm merely stating a fact. No need to get all your hecklers raised.”

Then she stepped down one step more and was even closer to him, his belligerent 'I'm not giving in even an inch to you' instinct kicking in automatically so he didn't budge. This left her just a breath away from his face, even when she clearly was shorter she was almost even with him now for the step she still had on him.

“I like your eyes,” She said and tapped his nose with her finger, “Especially now that you are growling, it brings a spark to your eyes–”

“What–?” Jason sputtered some and damn, now he was sure he was blushing something.

And she laughed with merriment and it was a friendly laughter, not cruel nor mocking. “I think I’ll like you very much, Jason– is it?”

“Yes– I'm– my name's Jason.” And why the fucking hell was he fumbling so much in front of this girl when he hadn't when facing Batman?

“I'm Helena, nice to meet you,” Helena smiled again and extended her hand. There was a spark in her eyes that told him she was having fun, but her open demeanor showed him it wasn't with a mean intention.

Jason still took her hand reluctantly; it was soft and slender– a very feminine hand. He unintentionally locked eyes with her again, then looked away to the side quickly when he realized he had done it.

END OF MEMORY... For more FILES check previous entries...

Plan of finishing the first draft: End of July. First chapter release plan date: sometime in August.

Beta readers/proofreaders/editors/consultants wanted! For more info about this fic see the previous post:

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

¡Hola!, PoderHellooooo!, There is no rush for you to write it. You take your time. But you could write about laurel and a teacher reader who are in a relationship, reader knows Marylin's identity and doesn't care but He doesn't know his plan for the outcasts. And he never finds out about her but because of that, laurel doesn't spend time with her and makes her feel forgotten. Reader gets tired and asks Laurel for an explanation. It leads to a meaningless discussion, for not finding an answer and not telling him the truth, Laurel cuts off with reader. Reader is confused and hurt. is devastated .

after weeks , the classes laurel (being Marylin) and reader are affected by its breaking. They no longer speak. I don't know how they look. Even the raven, who wears a dress that marks her waist. Reader realizes that Laurel sees her and provokes Laurel. Like this throughout the dance. After the red paint fell. They are calls to Larissa's office. (They were the organizers of the dance). I call them for security, you told him about the sheriff's son. And Larissa let them go.

On the way out, Marylin makes fun of your appearance. Reader also teases her back. Somehow I know the end they reconcile. Lots of fluff at the end and if you want smut

Please. I love how you write. And I hope you are well.

Yesss here it is!!! I hope you like it, and sorry about the language mistakes :))))))))

What are you up to?

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill/Laurel Gates x Fem, Teacher! Reader

Warnings: Angst, slightly implied smut, arguing

Word count: 2,960

Summary: You’re tired to be nothing to her. She don’t care about you anymore, you have a lot of patience, but everything has its limits

N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

“Are you still awake?” You asked, walking into the room.

The redhead was reading something on her desk. She was as absent lately as she used to be.

You knew that your co-worker, Marilyn Thornhill, your girlfriend, was not who she said she was. Her true identity was Laurel Gates, daughter of the infamous Jericho family of murderers. She told you that she didn't want anyone to know, that they would judge her for what her family was. You understood it. You didn't stop to think about it too much, after all, she was your girlfriend, you loved her.

You were happy, at least until two weeks ago. Laurel had gone cold. She went for walks late at night, according to her, to clear her head.

You didn't give it importance, you knew that the classes were overwhelming her, in fact, you also needed to be alone for a while. But it was becoming habitual. You always slept with her, in her room, but lately you slept alone in her bed.

She turned and looked at you, putting on her glasses. It took her a moment to react and smile. She was always so serious reading, she didn't seem like the same woman you fell in love with, but you were patient.

You slowly approached and placed a soft kiss on her lips, sighing. She smiled again, returning the kiss with a mischievous look.

“Sorry, I was too focused,” she told you in a low voice. You nodded in amusement and took a look at what she was reading. You could barely do it. The redhead closed the book immediately.

“Hey, why don't you let me see it?” You protested, a bit puzzled.

She shook her head, faking a smile. You knew her well, you knew that she was hiding something.

“It's just another boring book about plants, (Y/N), it doesn't matter,” she told you, getting up from her chair, yawning.

“Oh, yes, of course, whatever you say,” you said, taking off your coat, looking at that mysterious book with a frown.

After a relaxing shower, you climbed into bed next to her. Your intentions went beyond simple rest. You wished that for once she would go back to being the fiery redhead who wanted to love you all the time, almost anywhere, even in places you shouldn't.

That had changed too. You had to give thanks if she gave you a kiss, if she caressed you. You were kind of sad, but every time you looked into her eyes, you decided to hold on for another day.

“I'm dead sleepy…” She told you yawning, while you kissed her shoulders suggestively. You huffed and crossed your arms, somehow annoyed. She didn't even look at you, she just turned off the light. You widened your eyes and began to cough forcefully, to get her attention.

“Ahem!” You said too loud. She turned on the light immediately, looking at you surprised.

“Well, what's wrong with you, (Y / N)?” She asked you unpleasantly.

You huffed and crossed your arms.

“Are you seriously asking me?” You said incredulously.

“Well, yes, I’m asking you.”

“You've been ignoring me for two weeks,” you started, determined to say what you thought, what you felt. “You don't kiss me, you don't talk to me, you go out at night… Really, Laurel, if something happens to you, you can tell me.”

“Nothing's wrong with me, (Y/N),” she answered dryly, as if you were telling her something terrible, something you shouldn't. That was already too much for you.

“It's obvious you're lying. You are up to something. Or maybe you've grown tired of me.

Laurel sighed lazily.

“Stop talking nonsense. What's wrong with you? Have you had too many wines with Larissa?” She hissed, now with a dark look on her face.

“Oh, jealousy, fantastic, it's just what I was missing,” you snorted. “You're diverting the conversation.”

“I am not diverting the conversation because there is no conversation to divert. You're raving, (Y/N), you're acting like a little girl.”

You jerked around, about to foam at the mouth.

“What about the book you closed so I wouldn't read it?” You asked getting up to the desk. “What's in here that you don't want me to see?” You took the book and without opening it you raised it in your hand.

Her eyes flashed with anger. Laurel immediately stood up as well, trying to grab the book out of your hand.

“Give me that book, (Y/N)…” She whispered, almost growling.

“Why? What's in here?” You asked, pulling the book out of her reach, starting a ridiculous chase through the redhead's small room.

“Nothing that interests you,” she answered you, following you very closely, extending her arm as much as she could. “Give it to me!”

You shook your head. You didn't want to rummage through her stuff, you weren't like that, but you wanted explanations, you needed them, and urgently. She was starting to lose her temper.

“You haven't touched me for days, we haven't made love for days, and you only care about this damn book, it's all you care about,” you said, with bright eyes, seeing how any problem you might have was indifferent to your girlfriend.

“I have a lot of things to do, I can't stay in bed with you all day, I'm not 20 anymore,” she told you, relaxing her attempts to pick up that book.

“Oh, the age. Another of your favorite songs, things only are getting better and better,” you said sarcastically. She was breathing hard, her eyes furious and her lips pursed. “I'm fed up, Laurel. Sick of not mattering to you, of being so much less important than a piece of paper. I'm sick of secrets, of contempt, of your ignorance. And above all, I'm fed up that you don't trust me enough to tell me what your problems are,” you said, throwing the book towards the redhead. “Here, your fucking book.”

“You're sick of not being in the spotlight, (Y/N),” the redhead said, putting the book under lock and key in a drawer. You laughed and shook your head, about to cry.

“I don't want to be on the spotlight, Laurel. I want to be on your spotlight. But I think I'm asking too much, after all you're just…My fucking girlfriend!”  You yelled again.

A slap echoed off the walls. She had hit you. You hadn't done anything to make her do it. Just drive her out of her mind. You did not understand the reason for her attitude.

“You don't understand anything… I'm just trying to protect you,” she said, visibly sorry for what she had done.

“Protect me from what?”

“Nevermore is a dangerous place,” she said, returning to her serious and petulant tone. You nodded amused, walking around the room.

“Why?”

“It's impossible for you to understand, (Y/N),” she whispered to you.

You looked everywhere. Tears were already running down your cheeks.

“If that's the confidence you have in me, I better not waste any more time. I'm leaving,” you said, going to the door.

“Yes, go away,” she replied with a disturbing smile, as if she was glad to say that.

“Of course I'm leaving, right now,” you said, pretending you didn't care, pretending your heart wasn't breaking into a thousand pieces.

“This is over, (Y/N),” Laurel said. She wasn't pretending, she was saying it between sobs, just like you while you were picking up the stuff you had there.

“Of course it's over,” you said with a broken voice, leaving the room.

You couldn't believe how such an absurd argument had suddenly ended your relationship. You entered your room, which was full of dust. You hadn't been in it for months.

There was silence, there were no breaths from the redhead, her little snores. There was only you, furious, crying devastated. You sat up on the bed, tossing the clothes, toothbrush, and everything you'd brought into Laurel's room.

“It's over…” You whispered to yourself, looking at your mobile where you had a photo of Laurel and you in the background. You deleted it, you couldn't bear to look at it. “Fuck…”

You lay on the bed and cried into the pillow until you fell asleep. Everything was going great, everything was perfect with her. You laughed, you cried, you kissed, you loved. Until two weeks ago, when the redhead changed, she became a hermit. You wanted to help, get into the sea of her problems and surf them, find a solution.

When she confessed her identity to you, it seemed that everything was over. How deluded you were, the problems had only just begun.

The following days were the worst of your life. You couldn't concentrate in class. Your students were asking where that funny and kind teacher had gone, and if she would ever return.

“I don't know, guys, I don't know…” You sighed.

You no longer spoke to Laurel, who once again took refuge in the absurd mask as Marilyn Thornhill. You didn't see her, you didn't feel close to her. Neither of you existed for the other anymore. It was a painful break up, but indifferent. You had just left your lives, the world kept turning and the days kept passing, unaware of the pain you felt, of what you missed, even if it was a look, a smile. You would be ignored again if it meant noticing her hot body at night, being able to snuggle up to her if it was cold. You were suffering, you missed her, but you began to wonder if she felt the same.

Unfortunately, that black moment of your life coincided with the best day for all the students, the Rave'n dance. You and Laurel spent a lot of time organizing it, dreaming of dancing together, of having a special night that would never come.

Feeling deeply humiliated, you had to go back to her room for your dress. She opened the door and threw it at you roughly. Not a word. Not even a look.

You were devastated, but you couldn't break down yet. You had work, you had to put on that nice new dress and crack a smile. You had committed to it. You couldn't back out.

“You and Marilyn have done a wonderful job, (Y/N),” Larissa told you, smiling across the ballroom. You trembled when you heard her name, but you nodded.

“Thank you, Larissa…” You whispered, lowering your head. The principal realized that the comment was not the most appropriate. Nevermore was a gossip factory, obviously the news of your breakup did not go unnoticed.

“Oh, I'm sorry, (Y/N), I didn't want to…” She told you, putting a hand on your shoulder. You shook your head.

“Relax. It's okay… I'm going to get drunk,” you said, heading to one of the punch bowls.

“(Y/N), there is no alcohol in this party,” Weems said, amused.

“Well, sugar overdose then, it's the same.”

Laurel moved into your field of vision. The first thing you thought: How beautiful she is, the second thing: I hate you for leaving me.

She looked everywhere. When her eyes met yours, her jaw nearly dropped. Normal, that dress was one of those that she liked, tight, marking your waist. She snapped her head around when she realized you were looking at her. You couldn't help but smile. You hadn't seen her for days. You spent the days wondering how she would feel, if she was glad to have lost you or if she was in a depression similar to yours.

Her shy look made you hope. She had looked at you, you had seen her eyes observing your dress. It was a unique opportunity to make her reconsider, to make her understand that she had been wrong. You weren't going to fool anyone, you were desperate to get back to her side.

The dance continued as if nothing had happened. With a little difference. You passed close to Laurel, brushed against her shoulder, passed your hand through hers. She played tough, she ignored you, but only if you were looking at her. As soon as you turned around she had her eyes on you again.

“Sorry,” you said bending down in front of her to pick up an earring that you had dropped on purpose, showing the redhead your cleavage, your breasts. She snorted, but she didn't stop looking at them, she didn't move.

“Stop doing that,” she told you. They were the first words she said to you. You shrugged, ignoring the annoying touch in her voice.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I think you know, (Y/N), you've been trying to provoke me all night,” she told you. Damn, she was too smart.

“Am I getting it?” You asked jokingly. Your words were funny, but your feelings were desperate, they screamed to kiss her lips, to return to her, with or without lies, you didn't care anymore.

Laurel opened her mouth to say something, but a disturbing event interrupted her. She looked at your shoulder strangely and then looked at the ceiling. You looked at your dress. A few small red dots stood out against the nuclear white of your clothing. You passed your hand, which also got stained.

“What the …?” You asked, seeing how what looked like blood was falling from the fire system.

Everything was dyed red in a moment. A horrible rain of blood covered the room in red. To your relief it wasn't blood, it was just paint.

“What's going on?” You asked Laurel, who shook her head as the red paint covered her completely.

Chaos was not long in coming. Many students screamed in terror, slipping and falling to the red-soaked ground. After a few moments, the paint stopped falling and the lights came on. Laurel was gone, you didn't know where.

“(Y/N), what the hell has just happened?” Larissa asked, also a mess.

“I, I don't know…” You said nervously, looking for the redhead with your eyes.

Fortunately, she showed up soon, along with the sheriff's son, Tyler.

“Tyler has called his father, he's on his way,” she said looking at you. You nodded, trying not to think about those eyes that looked at you again after so long.

“Good. You two, to my office.”

You followed Larissa to her office. You had organized the dance, it was logical that you would give some explanations, although you didn’t have them.

After a meaningless conversation with the sheriff, Larissa let you go. The paint was drying, you needed a shower.

Laurel came out in front of you, but unexpectedly she didn't leave, she stayed waiting for you.

“Look at you, (Y/N), the paint has improved your dress,” she said with a serious tone. It was obvious it was a joke, you knew she loved it.

“But hey, have you look at you? At last you wear something to match your hair, the boots are already boring,” you said. She arched her eyebrows.

After a minute of intense looks, the laughter arrived.

“Some color suits your pale face,” she said between laughs, gently holding your jaw.

“Oh, of course I forgot that you were wearing a painting by Picasso,” you replied, crossing your arms.

Little by little the laughter diminished, and silence returned. You looked at each other, almost without blinking. You wouldn't know who of the two initiated the kiss. It was something fast, automatic. A passionate kiss in the middle of the hall. No reason, no explanation, just a couple of jokes and you were on her lips again. Now it was clear to you that the breakup was not painful just for you. Now you knew that she also wanted to kiss you, your hands grabbing your waist let you know, they whispered to you.

“Please… Let's try again…” You said, whispering into her ear. She nodded, caressing your cheek.

“Please…” She whispered against your lips.

After the kisses intensified there was only one thing left to do. Slowly, stopping every two steps, you went to her room. You thought that you would not arrive, every corner was good to give free rein to the joy of reconciliation, to unbridled passion, to the recovery of lost love.

After the room, the shower. Tender and warm kisses under the water that turned red while you rubbed your bodies. The caresses under the steam, the moans, the gasps. There were no words, just gestures, just naughty hands under the shower.

The bed was the next step. Your skin was still wet, drops of red water marked the wood.

The moans continued, the gasps became even more intense. You loved each other, with your hands intertwined, with your warm bodies against each other. Kisses, caresses, hair pulling, tongues that ran through every inch of your skin. Intense, passionate, messy, desperate and hungry love.

Endless orgasms. Still no words, just sighs, just your fingers inside her, hers inside you. A magical night.

When your bodies already hurt, they couldn't take it anymore, you got into the sheets, as always, as it should never have ceased to be.

“I love you, Laurel…” You sighed, settling into your chest.

“Me too, (Y/N), I love you…” She answered, kissing your lips cracked by passion again. “Forgive me, I promise to be more aware of you, I swear.”

“Okay, Laurel… I trust you. No, I don't want to lose you again,” you said, with bright eyes remembering that fateful discussion. “Just tell me one thing. What are you up to?”

She smiled, shaking her head, but she remained thoughtful.

“Nothing, I just want to kill all the outcasts in Nevermore,” she said quietly, caressing your hair. Naturally it had to be a joke.

“Oh, me too?” You kept joking.

“No, my love, not you.”

[logosbot-tm-fics]

Hi everyone! Sorry for the wait,, but...I sorta got stuck on this chapter.

Which is why my (previous beta-reader now) co-writer wrote this chapter instead

Anyway, hope yall enjoy :)

Take My Tea With Formaldehyde

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Chapter 14: Taxidermy Fingerprints

(More beneath the cut)

Mumbo felt as though his lack of sleep was finally beginning to creep up on him as the pair walked side-by-side through the silent city.

He had no idea how long it had been, no idea whether they’d been talking for a few minutes or a few hours, but his legs were starting to ache with every step. They kept moving, kept walking down the snow-filled pavements, under the dim, flickering street lights. 

Somehow, Mumbo wasn’t as cold as he probably should have been without a jacket – warmed by the activity, but also by good conversation. Every second felt… familiar. It felt easy. There was something comfortable about the way that the stranger spoke, something that made it simple for the pair of them to never run out of things to say. It was nice, to have someone to talk to, to know that he was being heard. He felt more like a person talking to the stranger than he had in days. 

For once, Mumbo didn’t feel like a bother. 

The sun was beginning to peer over the horizon when they finally stopped, the stranger suddenly stopping in their tracks until Mumbo realised that they were no longer beside him, turning back to glance at them.

They smiled at him softly, something kind in their eyes as Mumbo met their gaze. “I suppose this is where I gotta drop you off,” they said.

“What?” Mumbo blinked at them confusedly. They had been cryptic all this time, avoiding personal questions and dodging details, but this seemed like a strange change of pace, even for them. “What do you mean?”

The stranger didn't reply, they just nodded their head towards a building across the street. Mumbo’s eyes followed the movement hesitantly, a little unsettled by the vague answer, until he noticed that they were stopped in front of a tall block of flats. Mumbo’s block of flats, to be more specific.

"Oh," he said, once he realised where they were, feeling just a little bit stupid. He hadn't noticed that they had walked all the way back to his house, traversing all the way through the city to arrive in the ever-familiar area. He realised until they were stopped right outside of his front door.

The stranger laughed, gesturing for him to follow them as they started to cross the silent street. He did after a moment, shaking himself out of his confused stupor and scurrying to catch up. It was only after they set foot on the other side of the road that Mumbo was struck with a realisation, his steps stuttering as he reeled with it.

… How did the stranger know where he lived? 

It sent a chill down his spine, echoing in his thoughts as he stared at the stranger, speechless and dumbfounded. He wasn’t necessarily afraid, the stranger had been far too compassionate and helpful for him to fear them, but it was undeniably concerning that they had somehow managed to lead him back to his own home without him ever telling them where he lived. 

He gaped for a few long moments, trying to find his words as the stranger stared back at him passively, an almost amused flicker in their eyes.

"H-How did you-" Mumbo’s words trailed off as the stranger interrupted him with a shrug, something casual and nonchalant.

"I'm just good at guessing,” they replied as if it was a completely logical explanation. “This felt like the right place."

That was… the least convincing argument Mumbo had ever heard, but he wasn’t about to tell them that. Instead, he settled for just gawking at them strangely, like they were a puzzle for him to figure out how to solve. In some ways, they probably were.

It was silent between them for a few long moments, something uncharacteristically stilted in comparison to the easy conversation of just a few moments prior, and Mumbo assumed that the stranger was waiting for him to gather his thoughts and reply. When he didn’t, they sighed, stretching a gloved hand out towards him.

“This is goodbye, then,” they said, as he awkwardly met their grasp.

“I- yeah…” He wanted to say something, to somehow formulate how much their conversation had meant to him. To express how much they had helped him. 

“Thank you,” Mumbo settled on, grasping onto their hand for a second too long and giving them a small smile. “I needed this, you- thank you.” 

The stranger mirrored his expression, tightening their grip on his hand as the corners of their mask rose, the fabric wrinkling over the bridge of their nose. 

“I’m glad I could help,” they nodded, squeezing Mumbo’s hand once more before finally letting go and turning to leave. “Bye, Mumbo.”

“Uh- goodbye,” Mumbo replied, blinking the sleep from his eyes. 

He felt somewhat dazed, exhaustion and emotional drain finally catching up on him, draping weights over his shoulders. He stood still and watched as they walked away, eyes drawn to their retreating form for reasons that he couldn’t quite place. He watched, mesmerised, as they reached a hand into their pocket, pulling out the pack of cigarettes and an unfamiliar lighter, removing one from the pack and bringing it up to their lips. Surely they lit it, with the lighter that Mumbo hadn’t expected them to have, because the next thing he knew, there was smoke trailing behind them as they moved.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from them, there was something nagging him, something that just… didn’t sit right. 

They- wait, did–

Did they call him by his name?

How did they- how did they know his name?

Another pang of white hot anxiety spiked through him, jolting in his lungs and plunging to the pits of his stomach. His eyes caught on the dim burning light of the cigarette between their fingers, the trail of smoke pluming above them as they walked away. They knew where he lived, and they knew his name, how- how did they–

“W-wait!” He called out, icy breath clouding around him. The stranger turned around at his cry, but they didn’t stop. They just kept moving, walking backwards with an almost inhuman grace. Mumbo needed to say something, he needed to say something now or never-

“What- what’s your name?” He stuttered, something pleading and charged behind each word.

The stranger simply smiled, pulling the lit cigarette up to their lips and taking a drag. “Doesn’t matter,” they called back, smoke billowing from their mouth. “Until next time!”

The wind blew, something sharp and cold and howling that had Mumbo squeezing his eyes shut, trying to avoid the snowflakes being thrown his way. “W-what do you mean ‘next time’?” He shouted, desperate to be heard against the lashing gales. “You–”

Mumbo opened his eyes as the noise of the wind lessened, as the stranger gave him no response. His gaze flicked helplessly around the quiet street, wild and aimless as he took in every streetlight and pavement tile. 

The stranger was nowhere to be seen.

~

The lights of Mumbo’s bathroom were sterile and bright. 

They felt cleansing, somehow - like bathing in them would wash away the evidence of his distress, of everything that had happened in the last few weeks. Staring in the mirror, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was just the lighting that made him look like this. 

Better. Healthier.

The bags under his eyes were lighter, less bruised, and there wasn’t as much tension in his shoulders. He felt better rested than he had in ages, like he was refreshed in a way that needed more than just sleep. It was peaceful, comforting, to know that he still had this in him. He could still feel better, and the man in the mirror was only proof of that.

He thought back to the blurry reflection of himself that he had seen in the river, before his conversation with the stranger. He had seemed so exhausted then, in more ways than one. It was as though there was something riding on his back, something that made every step heavy and dragging; every breath a thousand times more difficult than it needed to be.

Looking in the mirror now, under the bright, revealing lights of his ever-familiar bathroom, Mumbo thinks that talking to the stranger was more helpful than he had realised, even then.

It had been a day or so since they had spoken, and in that time Mumbo had rested, he had taken some time to himself. Allowed himself to reset, to calm down.

Apparently, it had paid off.

Although… Jesus, when was the last time he had shaved?

Despite the new light in his eyes, the lack of tension in his shoulders, Mumbo couldn’t ignore the new scruff gracing his chin. He practically had a beard at this point, itchy, uneven hair that made him look almost alien, unfamiliar. His moustache was in the worst condition he’d ever seen it, his usually consistent routine having been forgotten for… who knows how long. It looked like a broom over his upper lip, like some sort of rodent had crawled onto his face and died. The unruly strands were almost brushing the seam of his lips, uncomfortable and scratchy in a way that he didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed before.

And- now that he was paying attention to the sensation, the way that his fringe hung over his eyes was also irritating. His hair was grown out, long past its usual, cropped style. He just… he hadn’t had the brain power to handle caring about his appearance recently, he hadn’t realised that it had gotten so far out of his control.

He needed to fix this, to try and make himself feel a little more like a person again. What was it that the stranger had recommended he do? Focus on himself? On being happier?

Somehow, it felt like this would be a good start.

It seemed inconsequential, but some small part of Mumbo felt as though this would help him do just that. Like making himself look as he used to would make him happier.

He wanted that. God, he wanted that.

He started slowly, plucking the facial hair grooming kit that Iskall had bought him a few years ago out of the drawer. He laid it on the counter, taking a moment to just stare at the black leather case, before nodding to himself, opening it.

The next hour or so was spent fixing himself up; trimming and shaping his moustache, cutting and combing his hair. Little by little, he started to look better.

He started to look like himself.

Something about it felt like a reset; like he was starting from scratch. Like he was trying again.

He wanted to try again. He needed to.

He didn’t want to live like this anymore.

~

The apartment was next, after Mumbo had finished tidying himself up.

He had changed clothes, stripped the old sheets from his bed and gathered the dirty laundry off of his bedroom floor. It felt like a start, a jolt of motivation shooting through him at the progress, but stepping out from his bedroom with unwashed fabrics cradled carefully in his arms only served to remind him how big of a task this would be.

There were dishes piled on the coffee table, old takeout boxes on the floor, and a thin sheet of dust seemed to cover every surface. How had this gotten so far out of his control? How had he ever lived in such a filthy place?

There was something uneasy crooning in his gut as he looked over the state of the apartment, it just seemed like such a massive task, he had no idea how he was going to do all of this by himself. He didn’t even know where to begin, the idea filling him with an uncomfortable feeling of stress– he wouldn’t get all of this done alone, Mumbo knew that. He knew that he would spend the whole day just staring at it, working himself up over where to begin, and then he’d just give up.

He thought back to the conversation with the stranger, to the advice that they had given him. They had reminded him of something that he really shouldn’t have forgotten – there are other people who care about him too. Other people who would surely drop everything if he called them.

It brought a smile to his lips, and Mumbo found himself shakily reaching for his phone.

< You > Hi :)

(14:22)

< Critter Queen! > Mumbo!

(14:24)

< Critter Queen! > You okay? Haven’t heard from you in a while

(14:24)

< You > I’m alright :D

(14:25)

< Critter Queen! > You sure? I spoke to iskall and they said you weren’t doing too well

(14:25)

< Critter Queen! > I’m here if you need me!

(14:25)

Mumbo paused for a second, unsure of how to answer. He knew that his sister wouldn’t push if he said he didn’t want to talk about it, but still. He wanted to at least try to be honest with her, even if it was a little humiliating to admit how much everything outside of the whole… Grian situation had gotten away from him.

< You > Things have been a bit hectic for me, really. I’m struggling to keep the apartment clean haha :D

(14:27)

< Critter Queen! > I’m not working today so i could come over and help you clean?

(14:28)

< Critter Queen! > Jimmy is hanging out at my place today so i’d force him to come along too lol

(14:28)

It brought a smile to his face, her willingness to come over and help. The idea of seeing Jimmy was nice too, he hadn’t been keeping in touch with either of his siblings as much as he normally would have, so seeing them both would give them a good opportunity to catch up. 

It would be good for him. It would make him happy.

< You > That sounds nice

(14:29)

< You > You’re both welcome to pop over whenever! I’ll leave the front door unlocked :D

(14:29)

< Critter Queen! > Great :)

(14:30)

< Critter Queen! > we’ll be round soon!

(14:30)

And that was that.

~

“Lizzie!” 

A shrill, shrieking voice was the first thing that Mumbo heard as his door opened, followed by bubbling laughter. There was a series of heavy footsteps, the clinking of keys landing in the dish by the door, before Jimmy called again, “It’s not funny!”

Clearly, Lizzie disagreed, as her laughter only grew.

The commotion drew Mumbo up from where he had slumped onto the couch, mindlessly playing a forgettable idle game on his phone. He peered through the living room doorway and into the hallway cautiously, just in case one of the others decided to throw something at him in true sibling fashion. Instead of having to suddenly duck out of the way, he was greeted with the sight of Jimmy trying fruitlessly to untie a tight knot in his scarf, which looked as though it had been forcefully tied around his throat.

“I’m just looking out for you! We can’t have you catching a cold,” Lizzie giggled, pulling his hat over his eyes before leaning down to untie her boots.

Jimmy fumbled for a moment, tugging at his scarf blindly, before stumbling backwards and falling into the closed door with a muffled ‘oof!’ There was a single moment of silence, before Mumbo and Lizzie both burst out laughing, watching him struggle on the ground.

His very miffed expression appeared to them as he finally managed to wrestle the layers off, looking considerably more ruffled than Mumbo assumed he was when he first arrived. His hair is a mess, sticking in every which direction, as he glared as Lizzie with lighthearted betrayal shining in his eyes.

Lizzie simply rolled her eyes, hanging up her coat and walking over to Mumbo, very pointedly ignoring Jimmy’s grabby hands to try and get someone to help him up. 

“Uh- hi?” Mumbo questioned, trying not to laugh at Jimmy who seemingly melted into the floor at the rejection. 

Their antics plastered an aching smile on his face, something wide and genuine that Mumbo hadn’t felt in a while. They were acting like their usual selves, but he had no doubt that they were trying to make him feel better in the process.

“Hey! It’s been a little while, huh?” Lizzie exclaimed. She pushed past him to glance around the living room quickly, scanning the mess that laid around them. “Gosh, you uh- you definitely weren’t kidding.”

Mumbo chuckled awkwardly as Jimmy finally stood up, casting a confused look at the now empty space on the hallway table before kicking off his own shoes and tossing his jacket to the floor. He hung his head in shame as he trudged past where Mumbo stood in the doorway, a pathetic, pitiful look about him that never failed to make Mumbo grin.

“Nice to see you both,” he said between chuckles, his heart warming at the familiarity of it all. Somehow, it almost felt like normalcy. Like the thing that he’d been missing for so long.

“Hi, Mumbo,” Jimmy sulked, elbowing Lizzie as he walked past. “I want you to know that I’m only here because she threatened me with bodily harm.”

“Suck it up, Jim,” Lizzie chastised, “We’re cleaners for the day!”

“Exactly, Jimmy,” Mumbo chortled at the exchange. “Don’t you want to help out your favourite sibling?”

“Neither of you are my favourite,” Jimmy interrupted Lizzie’s offended noise, flopping onto the couch dramatically.

Rolling his eyes, Mumbo tossed a dirty sock that had somehow ended up in the hallway at him. “C’mon, up,” he prodded. “We’re cleaning.”

Jimmy just groaned loudly, rolling onto his side with a heaving sigh. “Why can't you do this by yourself?” He whined.

The question lit a flicker of anxiety in his gut, something small but noticeable. It felt too sudden to expose his struggles, but he wanted to be honest. He wanted to ask for help.

“Oh, I- uh- it’s just- I…” He stammered, both of his siblings’ eyes flitting to him as his voice grew higher, avoiding eye contact with an awkward laugh. “I don’t know. It’s overwhelming?” Mumbo admitted, staring everywhere that wasn’t the two people in front of him. “I feel like I won’t get anything done, like I’ll just be stuck figuring out where to start.”

“Ah, that’s-” Lizzie responded in Jimmy’s place, something concerned behind her eyes, barely hidden from view. “That’s fair enough, Mumbo. It’s a big job, uh- it’s quite a tip in here, I’ll be honest.”

Mumbo chuckled, though it sounded slightly forced. Some small part of him was angry that he’d ruined the atmosphere, that he’d turned it into a bigger deal than it was. But… this was a big deal. It mattered to him. He’d lived in this messy, upturned house for weeks, and fixing it up felt like he’d be repairing a part of himself.

It was a big deal, and, thinking back on the stranger’s words, he didn’t want to downplay that. He wanted to give himself the time that he deserved.

“It’s demotivating, that’s what it is,” he said, honestly.

Lizzie gave a strained laugh, something worried and contemplative, and it was clear that she wanted to ask, to push. Quiet lulled between them for a few seconds, gentle yet obvious, starkly different from the easy banter of a few moments before. 

“Mumbo, not that I mind helping out or anything-” Lizzie’s shoulders grew slightly tenser as she spoke, clearly choosing her words carefully as her gaze flicked around the messy apartment. “-but… how- how did you let it get this bad?”

“I- in my defence,” Mumbo coughed, rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward smile and avoiding eye contact. “I’ve- uh- I’ve had a rough couple of weeks.”

“Oh,” Jimmy stared up at him from the couch, pushing himself into a sitting position. “What happened?”

He opened his mouth to answer, mind running through a million possibilities of what he could say, of what he could reveal. Should he tell them everything, just like that? Or should he lie, to try to avoid worrying them; to try to protect himself from vulnerability? A small voice in his head whispered that he should be keeping Grian’s privacy in mind too, not saying a word as to keep his friend from being put in an uncomfortable position. 

He tried his best to wave that voice away. Grian deserved privacy, but Mumbo deserved support at the same time.

Quiet reigned again, hanging in the room for a couple of long seconds. Mumbo wanted to jump into action, an uncomfortable energy rushing through him, something like dread and adrenaline mixing together into a frantic cocktail that only grew stronger with every moment that the silence persisted. He wanted to distract himself with something like- like making tea. Maybe he should offer to make them something to eat? Maybe-

In the end, he didn’t get a chance to respond, the nervous, restless expression that surely painted his features prompting Lizzie to jump in.

“Let’s get on with this first,” she said definitively, placing her hands on her hips and leaving no room for argument. “Then we can talk about it over some tea?”

Mumbo didn’t know how to respond past a nod, nerves still rushing through him as he tried to gather his thoughts, to consider how he was actually going to go about this, but his siblings didn't let the silence remain for long. 

Lizzie wrestled Jimmy off of the couch, and he put on some music - something obscure, a little band that the others had never heard of. The three chattered easily, joked about everything and anything, and Mumbo was happy. They worked together well, despite the near constant stream of banter and play-fighting, and it made Mumbo feel strangely… light. As though a weight was being lifted from his chest. 

It was chaotic, but it was fun, and Mumbo was undeniably glad that he asked them to help. It made everything so much more manageable. It felt less like the weight of the task would bury him.

He was glad they were there with him.

~

By the time the sun was setting, the digital clock in Mumbo’s kitchen informing the trio that it was already late evening, they were done. The apartment was almost spotless, cleaner than Mumbo thought it had been in years – as though it had just been furnished, or like he was trying to get his deposit back. 

Now, Lizzie and Jimmy were talking loudly at the dining table as Mumbo made tea, comforted by the noise. He set it aside to seep, before leaning back on the counter, facing the others.

“-I’m just saying, Jim,” he heard Lizzie declare matter of factly, “That your track record with boyfriends isn’t anything to cheer at.”

“You- you’re literally single! All of your exes suck!” Jimmy sputtered, “You can’t lecture me on this!”

“They hated her because she spoke the truth…” Lizzie mumbled to herself, a smug smile on her lips. “You’ve just got one of those faces, y’know? Easy to bully-”

Jimmy reeled back dramatically, hand on his heart as his gaze flicked desperately to the other person in the room. “Mumbo- Mumbo she’s being mean to me!”

“Wha-” Mumbo shook his head. “Don’t drag me into this!”

“Mumbo!”

“Yeah! Don’t start complaining to him!” Lizzie exclaimed, ignoring Jimmy’s noise of protest. “Mumbo’s doing better than both of us anyway, getting his heart stolen by that pop star...” She chuckled, a dreamy, forced sigh passing her lips as she wiggled her eyebrows at Mumbo, as if to punctuate the words.  

“Har-har,” Mumbo rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the jab about Ariana, averting his gaze from Lizzie’s batting lashes and goo-goo eyes. 

He knew that his crush was common knowledge, that it wasn’t difficult to see, but she made him think too much of Grian for it to be fun anymore. 

Lizzie giggled at him as he cleared his throat, perhaps taking his avoidance as embarrassment. “S-she’s right though, Jim, you’ve definitely got one of those faces.” 

He turned back to the tea as he said it, straining the leaves and bringing a tray out of the cupboard, ready to load it with the cups and various additives that his fussy houseguests tended to enjoy. Jimmy turned to look at him as he did, a strange expression on his face that was difficult to identify, a barely there tension settled into his brow.

“Exactly!” Lizzie exclaimed, a soft oof escaping Jimmy as she elbowed him out of Mumbo’s view. “You make it easy.”

“One day you’ll find someone who’s immune to the temptation,” Mumbo said dramatically.

“Well… “

“Eventually.”

Lizzie hummed uncertainly. “Maybe.”

Mumbo brought the tray over to them with a laugh, placing it gently on the table before turning back to the kitchen to grab his own tea, which hadn’t fit on the overfull tray. The good-natured banter made him feel light, though the silence from Jimmy was… odd. Usually he would have been arguing and whining, complaining to whichever sibling hadn’t insulted him last.

Clearly, Lizzie had noticed too, kicking Jimmy under the table with an inquisitive tilt of her head. “You alright?” 

There was something nervous in his expression, his jaw tight and brows drawn, and it set Mumbo’s heart racing as the younger man turned to look at him, stopping him in his tracks as he made his way to the table.

“Mumbo?” Jimmy’s tone was even, normal, but his words sounded hesitant nonetheless. “Where are all your photos? And the posters?”

“Oh.” Mumbo replied unintelligently, caught off guard by the sudden mention of the changes in his decor. His heart twinged as he considered the words, the thought of Grian creeping into his mind as he mulled over the question. 

“Uhm-” he stumbled over his reply, gaze falling to the slowly cooling teacup between his palms. Steam rose from the cup steadily, dazedly, the liquid lying flat and undisturbed. 

“We… had a fight,” he managed, pausing to take a steady breath. “A bad one.”

Even despite the weight that the words felt like they should carry, even despite the strike of lightning that he felt they were, the liquid in his cup remained calm. Staring at it, cradled carefully between his own two hands, felt a little bit like courage.

“Grian’s been- struggling, to put it lightly. I’ve been really worrying about him, he just won’t talk to me,” he shrugged. “Or, well- anyone, really.”

“Oh,” Lizzie said quietly, clearly processing the words. There was something compassionate in her tone, as if she truly understood. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s- uh- he’s been hurting me in the process of… whatever’s been going on. More than I think that he realised.” He sighed. The tea in his cup remained peaceful. Composed. “And everything just… blew up, a few weeks ago.” 

Now that he had started, talking about it seemed almost… easy. Easier than Mumbo had thought it could ever be, even if figuring out the right words to say took a few moments longer than normal. His chest ached, and his leg bounced under the table, but he thought that it was more to do with missing his best friend than anything else. He just wanted to see him again, he just wanted Grian to make things right.

“Keeping all of the photos up felt… wrong, after everything. I was upset, and they just— seeing them wasn’t helping. So I took everything down.” He lifted the teacup to his lips, taking a long sip and basking in the flavour. “Everything is just, uh- they’re just in the attic, though.”

“Oh, Mumbo…” Jimmy seemed almost teary as he said it, a sort of misty sympathy clear in his eyes as a shaking finger traced the rim of his own mug. The action felt patient, encouraging, like the younger was pushing him along, urging him to keep going.

Mumbo knew that there would be no consequences if he stopped here, but he found that he didn’t want to. He wanted to tell them about this. Even though it made him miss his best friend, even if it made something akin to grief echo with every beat of his heart – he wanted to talk about it.

“I spoke to someone about it last night. A- uh, a friend,” he continued, breaking the uncomplaining quiet that had fallen between them. “They helped me realise how unhappy I was with him, so I’m- I’m trying to be better.” The thought of the stranger, of their guiding words, brought a smile to his lips. 

He had to clear his throat before he spoke again, a little choked up and certain that his words would break if he didn’t. “I’m trying to help myself.”

Lizzie looked proudly at him, her gaze soft and youthful. “I’m- I’m glad that they were there for you,” she stammered, biting her lip for a second before continuing, “We are too, you know that, right?”

“Yeah!” Jimmy nodded enthusiastically next to her, lifting his cup from the table with such force that the tea splashed around the rim, though didn’t spill past the lip. “We’re here for you, for anything at all, dude.”

Their care was so obvious that it brought a smile to his face. Mumbo was glad they were being so patient, that they were taking the time to listen to him. Everything about the day felt… healing, almost. Cleaning his apartment, seeing his siblings again, reaching out to the people who cared about him – it felt like the pieces were finally beginning to fall back into place. Like things might turn out okay, with the help of the people that he cared about.

The thought made his heart ache a little, an unwanted reminder that they weren’t all here. That Grian might not ever want to speak to him again. The smile falls from his lips, something melancholy and distant taking its place. 

Even like this, he felt lonely. Even now, he craved the man that had hurt him so much.

“I miss him,” Mumbo admitted, without really thinking about it. “I miss him so, so much… is that stupid?”

“No,” Lizzie was quick to reply, certainty in her unwavering voice. “I’d be more worried if you didn’t, honestly.”

A heartbroken chuckle escaped him, something small and heavy. “I-I think I’d forgive him, y’know? If- if he apologised.” Mumbo avoided her eyes, staring at the spot he was used to Grian occupying as he took a sip of his tea. It felt as though it had grown a little cold. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been sat there. “I just want to talk to him again.”

There was a knowing, understanding look in Lizzie’s eyes as she nodded. “He’s your best friend, Mumbo. Even now.”

Jimmy reached across the table, placing his hand atop Mumbo’s own, pulling it away from where it was wrapped around his teacup. “You’ll figure it out, I know it,” he reassured. “He’ll apologise because - even though Grian is an ass sometimes - he cares about you, Mumbo. More than he’d ever admit.”

Mumbo huffed a laugh, slightly teary eyed at the words, at the comfort. It felt good knowing that they were both in his corner, that they were standing by his side. It was just… it was good to see them.

A deadpan voice cut in, “And if he ever hurts you again, just know that I’ll have his head.”

“Lizzie!”

Yeah, it was good.

[missmagooglie]

Celebrating 7x05 confirming Buck to be exactly this brand of bisexual disaster by posting a little TommyBuck Coda...

“Take your time,” Tommy says. “There's no rush, and it's ok if you change your mind–” Evan shakes his head. And fuck, he looks so gorgeous kneeling on the floor between Tommy's legs. “No, I want to,” he promises. “I'm just a little nervous, you know?” He ducks his head and runs the back of his neck bashfully, a pretty blush coloring his cheeks. “I've never done this sober before.” Tommy nearly misses it, because that's almost exactly what he expected Evan to say. Except, “Sober?” he says as neutrally as he can manage. “As in, you have done it before, but you were…” Evan huffs an embarrassed laugh, and says, “Um, super drunk. Yeah.” “Wow, ok,” Tommy says. After Evan admitted that he hadn't exactly been aware of his attraction to men until their first kiss, Tommy had sort of expected to be Evan's first, well, pretty much everything. At least when it came to men. “Um, when was that?” “It was… I dunno,” he thinks for a moment, and whenever Evan is thinking hard on something, the whole thought process just plays out on his face. It's too fucking cute. “Like, ten or eleven years ago, I guess? So yeah, it’s been a while.”  “I thought I was your first ‘date with a dude’,” Tommy teases him. “Oh, you were,” Evan assures him. “I was totally straight until, um, very recently. The whole thing only happened because I went out partying with some folks who were letting me crash on their couch. We ended up at this Pride party where some guy asked me to go down on him, and, I dunno, I didn’t want to seem homophobic by being that dude in a gay club who makes sure everyone knows he’s actually straight, you know? Besides, who hasn’t gotten hammered and sucked a cock once or twice?” It takes all of Tommy’s self control not to bark out a surprised laugh, because back when he was lying to himself about being straight, he’s pretty sure no amount of money or alcohol could have convinced him to put a dick in his mouth. “I’m pretty sure that’s not as common as you think it is,” he tells Evan. “But if you honestly believe everyone is just a few drinks away from batting for the other team, that might explain why it took you so long to realize you were bi.” “I–” Evan looks puzzled for a few moments, then says, “Huh.” He looks up at Tommy like he’s only just now realized something important, and says, “I wasn’t straight in 2013, was I?” This time Tommy does laugh, warm and fond and so fucking amused because Evan never fails to surprise him. “I really don’t think you were, no,” he replies. “Too bad I didn’t know sooner,” Evan muses. “I could’ve had so much more time to practice.” “Nothing stopping you from practicing right now,” Tommy says, shifting his hips slightly. Evan’s eyes look up at him brightly, and he smiles. “That’s true,” he says as his fingers wrap around Tommy’s waistband and start to pull. “Let’s find out if I’m better or worse at this when I’m sober.”

This fic is also on AO3

The conversations that happen on the way back to the firehouse are always wildest after sex-related calls.

Hen will admit that their newest probie does occasionally exhibit the obnoxious habit of speaking as though his whole entire twenty five years on this earth have given him ample time to become an expert on absolutely everything, but things don’t get weird until Chim tries to bait him by saying, “Well how would you know, Buck? Not like you’ve ever had a dick in your mouth.”

The probie’s shocked and offended face is entirely predictable and, admittedly, hilarious. Hen cracks open her water bottle and prepares to tune out whatever well meaning but ignorant and at least mildly offensive assertion of his heterosexuality is about to spew from this boy’s mouth.

She is not prepared for him to hotly retort, “Of course I’ve sucked cock. I’m not homophobic!”

Hen promptly chokes, water pouring down her chin as she coughs and sputters all over the cab. 

“Shit, Hen, are you ok?” the probie asks her, thumping her back in a way that he should know as a trained EMT does not actually help in this situation.

“Fine,” Hen wheezes, waving him off as she gets her breath back. “I’m just. Gonna need you to run that back for me a little.”

Probie gives her that confused head tilt that she refuses to find adorable. The kid is a capable enough firefighter when he’s not running off half-cocked to try some big damn hero stunt, but he is a Chad of the highest degree. Hen does not and will not like him as a person.

“What? Oh, the blowjob thing?” He says with eyes that are way too wide and earnest for someone casually talking about oral sex. “It was no big deal, really. It was ages ago.”

Hen holds one finger up at him and takes a few deep breaths just to make sure she’s not going to cough any more, then says, “I am going to need to know who convinced you that there was a dick-sucking requirement for being an LGBT ally.”

Hen is genuinely worried the kid is going to hurt himself if he keeps thinking this hard.

“Oh,” he says, frowning with concentration. “Well, I guess it was more like in that specific situation than, like, in general.”

“Buckaroo, you’ve gotta know we’re gonna ask,” Chim says, leaning forward eagerly to hear whatever absolute mess of a story is about to come out of Buck’s mouth.

Buck manages to look surprised at Chim’s sudden interest. “There’s not, like, some big story. I was in Vegas, some friends invited me to Pride and I’m always up for a good party. We wind up at a club, this guy asks me if I want to blow him, and, you know, what was I supposed to do? Say no?”

Hen glances at Chim, who looks just as dumbfounded as she feels. 

“Uh, yes?” Chim says. “I mean, obviously if you're bisexual or heteroflexible or whatever we aren't gonna judge, man. But most people who aren't attracted to men won't suck a cock just cuz some guy asked.”

Buck shrugs. “I wasn’t gonna leave the poor guy hanging just because I’m not gay. I was in a gay club during Pride. He had every reason to assume I swung that way. When in Italy or whatever, you know?”

“Rome,” Hen croaks. “The expression is ‘When in Rome’.” 

Buck looks at her with his confused puppy face. “Isn’t that in Italy?”

“Sure,” Chim says, cutting in smoothly before Hen blows a gasket at the sheer absurdity of this boy. “But the expression’s about the Roman Empire, not the city.”

“You mean Ancient Rome?” Buck says, “Wasn’t that more than, like, 200 years ago?”

That’s it. That’s the final crack in Hen’s sanity. “Two HUNDRED? Bobby, pull over. I need to kill your probie.”

“For what?” Buck squawks as Bobby sighs heavily.

“General ignorance of the world!” Hen snaps. “I don’t know how you’ve survived this long, but it ends today!”

“Hen, not again,” Bobby says, dry as a bone. The captain mostly keeps to himself, but every now and then he’ll offer a peek into a delightfully twisted sense of humor. “It’s getting hard to cover up this many of them going ‘mysteriously missing’.”

The indignant noise that comes out of the probie's mouth makes all the brain damage she’s sustained from this conversation worth it.

At least until Chimney decides he's still curious and asks, "So were you any good?"

"Well, it was my first time doing it and I was pretty drunk," the probie hedges, before proudly adding, "but, I can shotgun a beer in under four seconds so opening my throat like that was kinda second nature."

"Please stop talking," Hen begs. "Just, close your mouth and never open it again."

He pouts at her. He actually pouts. "What about when I need to eat?" he asks.

"Don't. Speak." Hen repeats. "If I never hear another word about your sexual exploits, it will be too soon."

The probie mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key. "No more sex talk at the fire station," he says. "I promise."

He absolutely does not keep that promise.

Unfortunately, Hen ends up growing fond of him anyway.

[zoeykallus]

I've seen how the bad batchers would act if they were jealous. But how would they react if they found out their reader significant other was the jealous one? Like, reader sees someone clearly hitting on their man and acts different because of it. How would the batchers each react once they realize what's happening? I feel like at least one of them wouldn't even realize that they're being hit on until reader starts acting jealous.

Interesting Question.... I hope you'll be okay with my approach.

The Bad Batch x fem!Reader HC's - React To Your Jealousy

Warnings: Jealousy

________

Not yet proofread, sorry

Hunter

He's been on the dance floor of the 79's as you get some drinks for the two of you. When you turn back around there is another girl, dancing close to him.

Hunter sees it coming before you say something. He can sense something is off, besides, your expression says a lot at that moment.

"No need to be angry. It was just a dance"

You grumble, "The way she danced at you it was rather dry humping"

Hunter chuckles, "Come on, that's not true"

"it's not?", you say dryly "Good. Hold this"

You give him both drinks and turn arround, you approach the next best clone and dance with him, just the way that girl did with Hunter. He's pressing the drinks into some guys hands who's passing by.

"It's on the house", he mutters, striding right over to you, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the dance floor.

"Where are we going?"

He growls, "Somwhere private. You are going to get marked lady"

Echo

Some girl is heavily flirting with him, but he's pretty confused. It's rather rare that he's the center of attention of anyone else but you. He's so puzzled he just sits there looking at the girl as she's lewdly fliritng with him.

You see what's happening and feel your blood boiling. Standing next to the table they are sitting at, the woman looks up at you, seing your expression she shrinks under your gaze.

"Get lost"

Something in your expression and posture makes the girl get up and get lost right away.

You look at Echo, crossing your arms in front of your chest. As you see his confused look, you frown and your expression softens.

He mumbles, "What the hell just happened?"

"She was pretty aggressivly hitting on you"

He softly grabs your hand and pulls you to his side on the bench he's sitting.

"Thanks for saving me, Mesh'la", he says softly, kissing the corner of your mouth.

There is not really a reason to be mad, not at him.

Wrecker

He's a nice guy, so he's not shooing the girl dancing around him right away.

He says friendly, "You know, I actually wait for my girl", hoping she get's the hint.

She does not.

As you enter the 79's looking out for your man and see what's going on, you have to take a deep breath before approaching the scene.

Wrecker sees you and smiles all over his face, brushing the flirty girl aside meeting you half way through the bar. He picks you up, kisses you lovingly and carefully let's you down to your feet again.

You can't help but smile at him. He's so happy to see you and it's honest. You know immediately, there is not need to worry. But that doesn't stop you from shooting that girl a sinister look.

Tech

He immediately feels uncomfortable when he realizes what the woman buzzing around him has in mind. She is far too handsy. He is super cuddly and clingy, but only with you, physical contact with other people makes him nervous and he actually can't stand it at all.

He tries to avoid her touches and says very clearly that he is not interested and is already taken. You watch the situation for a little while. You don't have to worry about Tech, but that chick makes you mad.

You finally go up to the two to redeem Tech. The relief on his face when he sees you is almost amusing. He scurries behind you, hiding behind you. He can fight back, but he really wants to avoid getting rough with a woman if possible.

"Please, Cyare, tell her to leave me alone."

You are only too happy to comply with his request.

Crosshair

He actually likes to flirt. Also with other women, but there is never physical contact. He does not look for flirting on his own, but he plays along when the opportunity arises. Sometimes.

That alone can be unsettling, but you know he is, if he really gets involved with someone, a very loyal soul. However, the fact that he likes to tease you about it when you get jealous doesn't make things any better. Sometimes you don't feel taken seriously.

He may tease you now and then and get you off guard, but he also always makes it up to you. After all, you are important to him, he doesn't really want you to be mad at him.

"Come on, kitten, you know I'm not serious about any of this."

"It's still unsettling"

He pulls you close, his hands on your hips, in the middle of 79's. Actually, he's not big on showing affection so publicly. You're surprised.

Spreading kisses on your face he says, "Now look at them. You get all the real love, the real me. And they just look stupid. Feels pretty good doesn't it?"

"You're so full of yourself," you giggle, "The worst part is you're right."

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@puppetswithteeth

[daynada]

JJK Characters After Their Wisdom Teeth Removal

[Content Warning: Humor, fluff (?), Gojo being a maniac]

Itadori Yuuji: Really happy and sad at the same time, in fact, he seems more confused about it himself. The peach-haired vessel resembles too much of a puzzled puppy. He self-sabotages anything he thinks about - once there’s a positive thing, comes a negative thing. You’ll have to stop him because he’ll start questioning his existence, even after talking about how Jennifer Lawrence is great but the fact the celebrity doesn’t know him ruins his self-consciousness. Would she like Itadori? Maybe she’d find him annoying? And just for being Itadori and in pain, Kugisaki fucks with him. Out of spite, he switched with Sukuna so that the straw-doll sorcerer deals with his sass. "I can't control Sukuna after the anesthesia!" When truthfully, he can - he just doesn't want to be bullied by his "friend" at the moment.

Kugisaki Nobara: More feral but in slow motion. Tries to bite your face. Like, imagine a snail or sloth trying to chomp your cheek. That's her. Also attempts to do things she’s not supposed to do - gets scolded by you, and is easily convinced as she immediately stops and stares at anything, lost in thought. Probably thinking way to destroy you. She blames you for her pain, then gets upset when you scooch’ away from her attempts of bites. “This is your fault. I’m in so much pain and it’s your fault” to “Hey why’re you so far away ☹️”

Fushiguro Megumi: Clingy, needy, and whiny. And very hushed. Whispers the whole time and you’re not sure if he’s saying anything coherent or chanting a ritual but you can barely hear him. He's telling you to coddle him. The shikigami-sorcerer finds it necessary considering he’s less than half of a conscious person at the moment. So as he puts it, you’re required to do it. While you’re the only person that is required to indulge him. And the next day, he'll pretend like he doesn't remember everything he had said, the way he acted, and all your “accusations.”

Gojo Satoru: Would either act the same or seemingly looks like he’s wasted (which still seems like his "normal" self). Just has more worst ideas than usual. Even if he's fully aware and self-conscious of what he's doing, he'll suggest taking you both on a car ride, unreasonably, swerving like he's in Tokyo Drift. Also eats as much as he wants despite what the oral surgeon said. Also doesn’t rest. The silver-haired maniac just wants to spend the rest of the day bothering you to his amusement. "Stop worrying! I'm the strongest, not even anesthesia could stop me!"

Nanami Kento: The one day he's off from work, he's miserable with you (not because of you of course). Right after the procedure, he’s not even awake. You were unsure if he was even alive. At least after, he follows homemade aftercare instructions. You might have to convince him for a while to stop actively being productive (chores - washing the dishes, folding laundry, etc). Even when barely conscious, your lover likes to alleviate workloads so that the both of you can have more time relaxing after. The usual silent Kento is just quieter, practically soundless. But he just stares at you like, “I hate everything and everyone except you.”

[marionscriptions]

Hellooooo~ omg i read your hiyori work and it was so cute.. saw you were looking for reqs so may i ask for hcs for ibara and yuzuru (separate) with a s/o who's super affectionate and shows loads of pda... many cuddles and hugs and hand holding and kisses even if there's others around >_< and if its not too much may i also ask for the reader to use the nicknames ibanyan and hattan for them respectively ;; thank youuu~~ if you dont do two characters then just yuzu cause there aren't that many works with him.. and he deserves more >:3c (if you're wondering over yuzu's nickname、it comes from dove in jp (^v^)ﾌﾌﾌ)

꒦꒷ affections. ꒷꒦

SYNOPSIS 𖦹 an affectionate lover!

CHARACTERS 𖦹 ibara saegusa, yuzuru fushimi, gender-neutral!reader (no pronouns used)

NOTES 𖦹 hellooo tysm for the request!! hattan is such a cute nickname (*´ω｀*) i haven't had the opportunity to write for either of them before, so this should be fun!! apologies if either of them seem ooc!!

❥ Yuzuru isn't the most accustomed to PDA. However, he's not exactly against it...?

❥ He's pretty used to being around people that enjoy public displays of affection, but he hasn't exactly been on the receiving end of such affections. It might take some time to get used to.

❥ Either way, he finds your affectionate nature to be quite endearing. As someone who is expected to maintain an uptight image (both as an idol and a butler), your presence is something that he certainly enjoys.

❥ Sometimes, Yuzuru finds himself growing flustered whenever you shower him with compliments. It's almost amusing to see Yuzuru, always diligent and composed, stumbling over his words around his S/O (or it is to Tori, at least).

❥ Whether it's hand-holding or cuddling, Yuzuru appreciates your affections (despite a certain drama kid's teasing...). He may as well be on cloud 9 at this point...

"Hattan, your hands are so cold...!" you commented, stopping in your tracks to face Yuzuru.

He looked at you with an almost puzzled expression. "Oh my, are they really?"

Nodding, you continued. "Yeah, let me warm them up for you!" You took his cold hands into yours, squeezing them in an attempt to warm them up. "There!"

❥ Call him Ibanyan and he will Malfunction. Ibara.exe has stopped responding. He eventually does get used to the nickname but at first? Hiyori couldn't stop laughing at how flustered Ibara got...

❥ Moving on!! Ibara doesn't mind PDA that much, although he doesn't indulge in it much himself (since he has an image to maintain, as COSPRO's vice prez). Similarly to Yuzuru, it took time for Ibara to get used to receiving so much affection.

❥ Honestly, I feel like Ibara would like having an affectionate S/O. Your personality is so different from his, but you two kind of balance each other out in a way...?

❥ In any case, once Ibara grows accustomed to your affections, he somewhat... seeks them out? Not in the most obvious way, of course, but you'll notice the way that his hand lingers for a second longer, for instance.

❥ In short!! Ibara is a PDA liker in some form of Denial (not much, but y'know. It's Ibara). He'd definitely partially enjoy being cared for in this way!!

"Ibanyan! Look over here—♪" you sing-songed, repressing the urge to giggle at the redness creeping up your lover's cheeks at the nickname.

"Oya? Is something the matter—?" You cut Ibara off with a kiss before he could finish his question.

Smiling, you answer with a, "Yeah, you look stressed, y'know? I thought that I could kiss it better. ♪"

[zaidshair]

"'Being set-up' - interesting way of wording it, mate," Zaid said with a wry amusement and a sidelong glance up at Elijah. "Did your parents find a wee miracle of God in you?" Zaid kept the chat light of course; they were both strangers in an extraordinary situation. No time or place to go into personal details for either man, Zaid guessed. Just get whomever was trapped in the shop, and get the fuck out of here. And back home, hopefully.

Elijah did the same, asking about career as they waded through the chilly water. There was something so ominous about ocean water especially, in a place like this. One of Zaid's previous jobs had been flooded once - burst pipe and an absolute mess. Zaid had even been in monsoons, caught in the awe seeing just how quickly rain could rise. But ocean water, sloshing around the halls like it was trying to own the ship itself. Swallow it down, conquer it in its vastness. The ocean wasn't just a mess; it was power.

As they waded through, Zaid resisted the urge to just reach out and hold onto Elijah's arm, or clutch the shirt on his back. A minor gesture to make that connection that they were both still real and together and alive. Zaid didn't of course, but he wished they knew each other better.

"I'm a chef, does that count? I've got a restaurant in London." Likely best to not mention the failed one in New York, Zaid decided. Elijah seemed like a curious sort (at least politely) and Zaid didn't want follow-up queries. Thankfully, Elijah supplied his own...lifestyle? Zaid looked up at him again, squinting and puzzled. "Like a travel journalist? Or...a travel influencer? How's that full-time?" Now look who was demanding follow-ups.

When they reached the open door though, easy chat fell dead in the dark cold water. Zaid went in first, but Elijah was close behind. A relief the other didn't turn tail and run (like Zaid was tempted to, in all honesty) as the banging reverberated through the metal walls, the pained screaming from the other side getting more panicked, more wild. Inhuman, almost. It was terrifying, and all Zaid wanted to do was run.

He had no idea Elijah did not feel the same way. Instead, Elijah stepped up, and pulled open the backroom door into the shop, and...nothing. The banging stopped. The screaming stopped. Everything was hushed except for Zaid's wheezy panting, and the slish-slosh of seawater.

Zaid charged into the shop, looking around as if someone was playing a prank on them. He stopped being afraid and got angry. "Who ever the fuck thought this was the time to play about, you're in for it, yeah! I've got your number, wanker!"

He turned in the water, to look up at Elijah. "That's what it was, right? Just some muppet thinking he could play a game on us, waste our fucking time, yeah? I think -"

But Zaid didn't have time to finish, as he suddenly flailed and managed a tiny yelp, before falling right into the water and disappearing under it. Not like he tripped, but like something had grabbed hold of his ankles and pulled him.

Even though Zaid's experience of blacking out didn't differ too much from Elijah's own, there was something interesting there. Something to be learned from the fact that all the stories were so vastly different until they weren't. Unless Zaid was lying (which Elijah doubted), alcohol was an unlikely culprit. Same for drugs. No strangers, no interest in cruises, no thread or theme, rhyme or reason weaving through people's stories that somehow connected them, offered a why. It was as if people all over the world had all been simultaneously teleported onto a cruise ship.

"Abundance and growth. Not a bad meaning. Sounds like you were being set up for great things." Zaid seemed pretty put together, too. A bit nervous, but he looked like he could keep his cool. Maybe he'd worked in high-stress situations. "So what did you end up doing, if you aren't a farmer? Living up to your name?" Elijah felt his skin break out in goosebumps as they waded through the stale, cold water. It was biting through his shoes. Elijah barely felt it. The thunk reverbarated through the corridor, echoing against the bare steel walls, alongside the sloshing of their feet.

"I'd say you're not far off, but that would unfortunately be a complete lie. I will take that as a compliment however. Don't worry, I won't let it get to my head. Okay, maybe a little." Elijah chuckled, softly. "I travel. Full-time. Not an emergency-anything. And not a prophet either, so I don't quite live up to my namessake."

The conversation eased the bitter tension somewhat, even though the rythmic thunk was a constant undercurrent. Better than quiet. A sign of life. Except - the door was open.

A crack of dark, seeping blackness, not offering any glance into the insides of the storage room. A crack that shouldn't have been there, because it meant whoever was inside wasn't trapped, despite their banging. Both of them knew it.

If there was something Elijah had learned over the course of his travel, it was that there was always something intrinsically animalistic at the bottom of everyone. Leftovers from when they were sleeping outside, with the eyes of predators at their back. Instincts, the kind that ran cold shivers up your spine, and that told you not to go down a specific alleyway because there was something there.

Elijah felt it. Coldness, running up his spine to the back of his neck, the kind that made his heart jump with the thrill of it. Zaid must've felt it too, as he nudged the door open. Still keeping his cool, Elijah noted, even as the cold light from the flickering, fluorescent tubes up ahead showed that nobody was inside the storage room. There should have been. But there wasn't.

And then the banging started again. Louder, the yelling more panicked, pleading. Elijah's body ran ice cold. His heart skipped a beat, picking up the pace. He could feel the fear and shock coming off of Zaid. There was no rational explanation for this.

"Well-" Elijah stared inside the dimly lit storage area filled with bolted down metal shelves and tipped cardboard boxes. "I'll be damned." His instincts told him something was wrong. But he didn't run. Despite all of it, Elijah wasn't scared or afraid.

He was thrilled.

"I WANT TO GO HOME! PLEASE! HELP ME! PLEASE! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-"

The scream was getting louder. The voice it belonged to had started cracking. Elijah moved, into the storage room, the panicked screams mixing with the rushing of his own blood in his ears. This time, the door was closed, but not locked, albeit a little jammed. Elijah grabbed the knob and moved, yanked, the adrenaline giving him strength. He could feel the door vibrate against his fingers with every thunk, stronger and stronger, until-

The door popped open. The yelling and thumping stopped like a shut-off light. The store was empty. There was nobody there.

[ticklishraspberries]

My Youth Is Yours (J.D/Veronica)

Summary: Veronica thinks that her and J.D. would benefit from acting like kids more often. (A commission for the lovely @moose-muffin, thank you so much for the opportunity!)

As their high school years crept closer and closer to the end, Veronica couldn’t help but long for the innocence of youth, the days where the kids who had grown up to be bullies shared snacks with the kids who grew up to be the victims of said bullies.

She wished that things were still simple, when all you had to do to be liked was let a classmate borrow a pen or bring something cool to show-and-tell. High school had the most impossible rules of what was cool and what was not. She wasn’t sure where along the way she had ended up in the “not cool” group.

She also knew that J.D. hadn’t grown up like the average child. His elementary school days were not filled with fingers sticky from glue and story times. Instead, he had been forced to grow up too fast, in a different classroom every month, and learning to live without his mother while being berated for grieving her.

If things couldn’t go back to the way they used to be, when Veronica Sawyer and Jason Dean were still bright-faced children who believed that people were good at heart, then Veronica could at least try to bring some of that carefree innocence back into her boyfriend’s life, as well as her own.

And so, she slipped little suggestions of fun things they could do into conversation, like visiting the local thrift store, pitching a makeshift tent in the yard, and playing board games.

And J.D. seemed to enjoy it, even if he didn’t verbally admit it. He begrudgingly tried on some of the ridiculous clothes Veronica had found at the shop, and he listened as she pointed out the stars in the night sky, snuggled by her side.

Board games, however, lead to something more eventful. Apparently, J.D. had never played Monopoly before, and that simply wouldn’t do. So, after digging through her garage to find the old game that she and her family hadn’t touched in years, Veronica explained the rules and they dove in.

However, J.D. seemed to be taking the whole “acting childish” thing too seriously, as he was essentially disregarding the rules she had so carefully explained to him.

“You can’t just move wherever you want on the board!” Veronica huffed. “Move it back.”

“Or what?” J.D. asked. “Gonna arrest me for trespassing?”

If it were anyone else, Veronica would be furious at their attitude, but she had come to expect this sarcasm and sass from him, and while she hated to admit it, she found it incredibly charming.

“No, but I’ll have to retract your board game privileges.”

J.D. gave a mock gasp of horror. “Oh no! What a tragedy,” he teased, but moved his piece back to where it originally was.

“If you’re bored we don’t have to play,” Veronica said.

“No, I’m not bored. Just messin’ with you,” he replied, giving her a fond, sincere smile that let her know he was actually enjoying himself.

After a few minutes, J.D. decided to joke around once again, not even trying to hide the money he was snatching from the piles.

“Trespassing, now bank robbery?” Veronica asked, raising an accusing eyebrow.

He grinned. “What can I say, babe? I’m an outlaw. You gonna stop me?”

Veronica hummed, considering this. Then, without giving him a verbal answer, she launched herself at him. Luckily, they were sitting on the carpeted floor, so their tumble backwards ended with a gentle landing. And, the game’s board somehow remained unscathed.

Honestly, she hadn’t quite come up with a plan. All she knew was that the smug smirk on J.D.’s face made her want to be closer to him, to make him smile…

Wait. There was an option that she liked.

J.D. gave her a puzzled yet amused smile. “And what do I owe the pleasure of—Hey!”

She had wiggled her fingers against his sides, making him twitch like a livewire.

“You know, if we’re gonna embrace our youth, I think a good old-fashioned tickle fight is perfect,” Veronica said, mischief dancing in her brown eyes.

J.D’s own eyes widened, but he was still smiling, which seemed to mean he was still having fun.

She quickly adjusted her position so she was sort of straddling his legs, her fingers quickly darting underneath his t-shirt to scribble at his stomach.

The laughter that spilled from her boyfriend was exactly the kind she had been longing to hear: child-like, boisterous, and so incredibly genuine. It wasn’t like J.D. was some silent, stoic type, but he rarely let loose and allowed himself to laugh in such a way.

It was the sweetest sound Veronica had ever heard.

She wondered how long it had been since he’d laughed like that, or had someone touch him in such a playful manner. She wondered if he had even remembered being ticklish, if it had been a part of his childhood, with his mother.

Mostly, she wondered which spots she could target to draw more of that sweet laughter from his lips.

J.D. shook his head back and forth, but he hadn’t let out a single verbal protest, only allowing the giggles to spill out. His skin quivered, his muscles jumped beneath her fingers, and his hands grasped at the carpet for some kind of salvation.

Veronica couldn’t help but giggle along with him. “This is what happens to cheaters,” she teased, before switching tactics and squeezing at his sides.

He jumped as the new spot was targeted, elbows coming to his sides to try and block her hands, but it didn’t do much good. “It was just a johoke!” he protested.

“Too bad, you still broke the rules,” she said. “And rule breakers get tickled.”

J.D’s face was blushed pink, something Veronica had never really seen before. He might get flushed after some kind of physical exertion, or in cold weather, but she had never seen him blush in embarrassment. She was just seeing so many new sides of him that day!

In fact, she was so mesmerized by the color in his cheeks, that he managed to sneak his hands towards her thighs and started squeezing them, making her squeal in surprise.

“No fair!” she cried. “This is supposed to be your punishment!”

J.D. grinned, using her surprise as the perfect opportunity to flip their positions, gently guiding her onto her back so that he could hover over her, looking like the cat who had caught the mouse. “I think it’s plenty fair,” he said simply, but there was a sickly sweet, almost sing-song quality to his tone that gave Veronica goosebumps.

She was already giggling nervously, anticipation of his revenge making her skin tingle.

He started to squeeze her thighs again, then switched to scratching behind her knees, making her kick and giggle helplessly. She never thought her legs were especially sensitive, but J.D. was proving her wrong with every touch.

Although she was clearly ticklish there, J.D. figured she had to be hiding some more sensitive spots, and decided to go after her belly next, fingers dancing along the fabric of her sweater and making her head tip back with a newfound bout of laughter.

“Oh, you’re more ticklish here than I am,” he said. “Good to know.”

Veronica wished she could scowl at him, but her face was trapped in a Cheshire cat smile, so she resorted to letting out a loud groan between giggles. “Shut up!”

“That’s not very nice,” J.D. said. “You’re really not in the position to be rude to me.”

Well, perhaps that was true. She would just have to switch their position again.

With a newfound strength, Veronica pulled herself into a sitting position, her arms wrapping around J.D’s middle and tickling his ribs.

He let out a surprised shout before dissolving into laughter once again.

It was so silly, so ridiculous, so freeing. Had it not been for their long, flailing limbs, and the litany of swears muttered between giggles, the scene looked like two roughhousing kids. It would be a truly precious sight, but luckily they were alone, no one to interrupt such a pure moment.

“Cut it out!” J.D. all but whined, trying to curl up and guard his middle from her grasp.

“Oh, c’mon, you love this!” Veronica replied. “That’s the first time you’ve asked me to stop since this started, babe.”

J.D. groaned, burying his face in his arms, but he didn’t deny it, just kept giggling as Veronica prodded at his sides.

Huh. Well, maybe her assumption had been spot on! She hadn’t meant to embarrass him, though. And so, she pushed him back to the carpet, prying his hands away from his face and leaned close to his face, grinning. “You know it’s cute if you do, right? Like, really cute.”

J.D. was blushing like mad, and he refused to meet her eye. “Whatever. You didn’t ask me to stop either, though, so…”

Veronica paused. “Oh. I guess I didn’t…”

J.D. brought his hands up to squeeze her hips, making her squeal. “Since you like it so much, I clearly have to do it all the time now!”

Veronica doubled over, burying her face in his chest as she laughed. Alright, so maybe she did like it. She was actually having a lot of fun. Laughing with her boyfriend, rolling around on the carpet like a pair of playful kittens, the constant back and forth as they fought for the upper hand.

“Okay, okay, I do like it!” Veronica giggled out. “But I need a breather!”

J.D. stopped immediately, his hands moving to instead stroke her hair as she caught her breath. “I guess it’s kind of fun, from either end…” he said softly.

Veronica smiled. “Well, then I guess we’ll have to make this a common occurrence then, hm?”

“I guess we will,” he replied.

Veronica poked her head up from where it had been resting on his chest, and grinned. “You’re so beautiful,” she said, reaching to stroke his blushing cheek.

J.D. huffed, turning his face away. “Knock it off, you sap.”

“Never,” Veronica said, pulling him close by the collar of his shirt and bringing their lips together.

After all that wrestling, the two of them were exhausted, leaving the Monopoly game unfinished in exchange for taking a nap together, curled up on the couch and cuddled close.

Well, Veronica would call that a success. All she had wanted was to bring some of that childlike happiness back into her boyfriend’s life, and she felt as though she was one step closer to helping J.D. realize it was okay to act like a kid. It was okay to have fun, and to have feelings, and to express those feelings freely.

Silly things like board games and tickle fights couldn’t fix or heal their problems, but it was a fun way to unwind and let go for just a little bit. And didn’t everyone need that, every once in a while?

[gladerscake]

Sweet Distraction

(Gally x Reader)

This one had been in my head for weeks, and I finally got around to writing it. The whole church scene just got me feeling some type of way. Enjoy!

Watching Gally interrogate Teresa had been a mesmerizing sight. You hadn’t been truly prepared for how attracted you’d be to him as you sat by Thomas and Newt, observing the scene before you. You knew you should’ve been paying closer attention to Teresa, she was supposed the center of it, she was the reason you were all in that abandaoned church to begin with.

And yet, all you had been able focus on was him. Gally. Your beloved boyfriend, who you had just gotten back after six horrid, excruciating months of thinking you’d never see him again. A part of you was still processing his return, but the bigger part was too drunk with happiness to care about the How’s.

He was back. Stronger, smarter, more assertive and determined than ever, and still wholeheartedly yours. That was all that mattered.

As unusually exciting as it had been to witness Gally in his imposing and intimidating mode, you couldn’t say you were surprised. Dominance always came so easily to him. It was one of things that made you gravitate towards him from the day you two had met. His natural talent for taking control was indisputably something you would never stop admiring.

Alas, the scene had been over quicker than you’d have liked, and you were forced to temporarily veer your thoughts away from Gally’s devious allure and onto the task at hand. Your mission to rescue Minho.

It’d been decided that the least Teresa could do, besides helping you get into Wicked, would be to remove the shucking tags lodged in all of your necks. The very least indeed, after everything her betrayal had cost you and your friends.

She really was lucky that Thomas still cared for her. He very well may have been the only thing standing between her and a severed finger.

You knew it was wrong to want to cause her pain out of anger and spite. Hatred was an ugly, poisonous feeling, and you weren’t supposed to succumb to it. But after what she had done and with what was currently being done to one of your closest friends, all because of her, you weren’t exactly in your most forgiving mood. If Thomas hadn’t interfered, you just may have handed Gally the scalpel yourself.

In any case, that part was over. You watched with a sympathetic frown as Frypan sauntered over to one of the chairs, clutching a bandage to the back of his neck and wincing at the lingering pain from the extraction Teresa had just performed on him. You drew in a breath, preparing yourself to be next.

However, as soon as you were about to take a step towards her, you felt a strong hand grip your wrist, effectively stopping your movement.

Your brows propped upwards in questioning as you looked up at your captor “Gally…?”

He responded to your puzzled gaze with a simple yet firm shake of his head.

“No. Me first.”

The seriousness etching his piercing bluish-green eyes allowed no objections. Although you didn’t think the procedure was anything dangerous, you couldn’t find it in yourself to argue with him. It didn’t seem worth it. Gally’s fiercely protective nature always burned its hottest when it came to you, and to be perfectly honest, you didn’t mind it one bit.

With a soft sigh, you delivered him a nod, squeezing his calloused hand in affection before letting him go ahead.

Surely he had expected you to just hang back and wait for your turn. However, that wasn’t your plan.

Just as Teresa settled behind him and was about to begin, you came into view once more.

Gally watched with a hint of surprise and palpable interest as you pulled up a chair, settling down right in front of him.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” He asked with a tinge of amusement to his deep voice.

Your lips curved with a cheeky little grin as you leaned forward, leaving only a few inches between your face and his.

“Keeping you company, distracting you from the pain. Making sure someone doesn’t hurt you more than they have to.”

Your indicative glance briefly grazed Teresa, causing the black-haired girl to clench her jaw, visibly fighting the urge to respond.

You didn’t need her to. In fact, you’d thoroughly welcome it if she never spoke to you again. You had nothing to say to her, and she certainly couldn’t have anything to say that would make you want to listen.

Luckily she seemed to have gathered that as she merely frowned, proceeding to disinfect the scalpel.

You huffed under your breath before returning your full attention to your boyfriend.

Gally allowed himself to crack a small grin, his eyes tracing every inch of your smooth face.

“How sweet. But I’m pretty sure I can handle the pain, baby.”

“Of course you can, you can handle anything at this point.” You shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t help you with it.”

Gally couldn’t contain the spark of pride that ruptured in his chest at your remark, his heart growing warmer at your wish to stay by his side. He had missed you more than he could ever put into words, and now, as you were about to go and put yourselves in yet another life-threatening situation with a very uncertain outcome, he would happily take every spare second you two could spend together.

“Alright.” His grin quirked the corner of his mouth “Distract me then. Give it your all.”

You tried to suppress the heat briskly crawling up to your cheeks.

You couldn’t quite give it your all with Teresa and everyone else right there, but you’d do what you could.

Quickly shaking off any naughty thoughts before they could mess with your focus, you reached a delicate hand up to his freckled face, your knuckles gently tracing his cheek.

“Why don’t you tell me something about the Glade. From before I got there, I mean. Do you remember your first bonfire?”

Gally released a quiet chuckle, not having expected you to travel that far back, but deciding to go along with it anyway.

“We didn’t really have bonfires until Jeff showed up. He was the fourteenth, if I remember it right. With only so many people, we never thought to-” Gally suddenly winced as Teresa had made the incision, his hands involuntarily balling into fists as he endeavored to ignore the stinging sensation.

You quickly covered his hands with your smaller ones, leaning just a little bit closer with a tender press of your lips to his cheek “Keep going…”

He let out a short breath, the crease in between his brows softening as he met your warm and loving gaze, felt your firm and comforting grip. If there was one thing that could keep him distracted even through a major surgery, he knew it would be you.

And so, he did keep going.

The next ten minutes passed rather quickly that way, with you listening intently to his every word as he kept talking. You caressed his face, squeezed his large hands, pressed soft, feathery kisses all over his face. By the time Teresa was done, the two of you had almost forgotten that she was even there.

You were bluntly reminded though, as Gally hissed at the rather rapid way she’d pulled the tag out.

“Watch it!” You glowered at the brunette as she placed the tag on the metal tray beside her.

“It’s done.” Teresa stated, quietly, placing a fresh bandage onto the back of Gally’s neck and promptly moving away from him. “Next…”

Gally got up, sending a halfhearted glare towards the girl before landing his gaze on you.

The thought of it now being your turn to get your skin cut open was enough to make his insides churn, his heart filling with dread. He so badly wanted there to be some other way. He would sit there and undergo that a thousand more times if it meant you didn’t have to, but there was no other option.

You stood up as well, already knowing what he was thinking. Gently yet urgently, you pulled his head down to press a deep kiss to his lips, your heart flipping at the low satisfied hum that rumbled within his throat at the feeling. That one enamored sound alone could make you do anything for him, you were sure if it. You grinned against his mouth as his muscular arm encircled your waist, instinctively bringing you closer to him.

Gally grunted, softly, as you pulled back, glancing between the pair of your chairs. Sadly, there was no delaying the inevitable, no matter how much he wanted to.

Without another word, he flipped the chair you had just vacated, straddling it and leaning on the back as he watched you take his place, preparing for the procedure.

You smiled as Gally smoothly cupped your chin in between his fingers, keeping your gaze locked to his “Well… Guess it’s your turn to tell me a story, baby.”

Tags: @seldomabsent @obsessivelycapricious @ultraintrovertedgryffindor @maraudersimp @abundantxadorations @izzymultifan @magnoliabloomfield @willseyebrows @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @anniemylennox @gallysonegoodlung @joemomma2121 @lattsgocaps @sherbertscarrothead-2 @lullabaesstuff @crazysheeplyca

[elias-code]

The Swine’s Scribe

Characters: c!Technoblade x gn!reader, an appearance by Philza

Background: You're in Techno's cabin after getting the rest of his wolves from L’Manburg after the second war. You were originally rescued by Techno from a blizzard after running from the first L'Manburg explosion (your house was among those destroyed.)

Summary: When Techno gets back from the second L'Manburg war, he lets go of a lot of emotions by ranting to you. You, being concerned about his mental wellbeing, ask if you can do anything for him, and eventually, he kisses you, which leads to some close-calls with Phil and a whole lot of smut and fluff.

Wordcount: 3291 (according to google docs lmao)

Warnings: NSFW, swearing, blood/wounds, biting, getting caught

I REPEAT NSFW, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

-------------------------------- Enjoy :) ----------------------------------

Ever since Techno brought you in from the cold months ago, you've been doing little chores for him in a way to repay his kindness. Even though he was the one who summoned the withers after the initial explosions, you felt safe around him. It had been hard to get used to at first, but now you felt comforted by his presence.

For the past week, you've been writing his journal for him after he broke his hand sparring with Phil. His hand has since healed, but you insisted that you do it for him, and he put up little protest.

"It was stressful, seeing your friends leave like that, in the blink of an eye. I don't trust anyone anymore, not after Tommy betrayed me. I gave him a roof over his head, hid him from Dream, one of the most powerful people on the server, AND I trusted him with my Axe of Peace." Technoblade's tone was strained and he let out a huff.

"Techno," you empathised, "are you sure you're okay after today?"

"I'm fine, please keep writing." He only ever said please when he was really serious, clearly, he was not interested in talking.

"Now, I refuse to bow to the voices. They want blood and I won't let them. Too many allies have died for me or have disappeared onto the other side, only to reemerge when they need ME, never when I need THEM."

Again, you piped in, "Techno, you're clearly not ok," his pale skin was flushed red and his eyebrows knit together into a grimace, "If there's anything I can do to help, please tell me."

He went silent.

"You don't have to talk about it if it's really getting to you... Or you could let it out. Either way, I'm here to help," You said.

"I'll think about it. For now, keep writing,"

For another half hour, he ranted about the destruction of L'Manburg and his dramatic reenactment was accented by occasional yelling and hand gestures. Suddenly, he stops speaking and gets a puzzled look on his face, "Um, what- what's the correct phrasing for - I guess - 'horny for violence'?" The tips of his ears were bright red, matching the blush now forming on his cheeks.

You chuckle, "I think it's hungry for violence..."

"Ah, that's it," Techno states, and then he completed his recounting of events. There's a bubble of silence in the air and he bursts it by asking, "Do you have any thoughts?"

"You know my thoughts, Techno..."

"I think I know, but give me words, I can't read minds."

"You're not healthy, you need help. You need better friends and a proper support system. Right now you really only have Phil, and I guess me if I even count."

"You count."

Now it was your turn to blush, but you continue, "Either way, that's not enough! You deserve more than you're getting. I can tell that even without the things you've had me write down. You're carrying so much weight, Tech."

"I didn't know you cared," he seems touched by your words, "I suppose I don't know a whole lot about you."

"And yet, you trust me with your deepest, darkest secrets, Technoblade."

"One thing I can trust you to do is help me with my armour."

He was still wearing the enchanted netherite chestplate and pants, both of which you started fumbling with. The leather straps were clasped tightly, as to not come off in battle, but you managed to manoeuvre them enough to get them to let go.

As the chestplate was lifted off of him, he hissed and then grunted. You look at the spot his hand flew to on his back, where his shirt had torn to reveal a big gash in his shoulder. It ran from his shoulder blade to his left pec, one of the only places where he was unarmoured.

"Holy shit Tech, why didn't you tell me this was here?!"

"I didn't want to worry you," He chuckled and then hissed again, "I guess that plan failed."

You did not find it funny. You immediately went to get the supplies Phil kept in his house, knowing that Techno didn't keep anything but healing potions in his chests. Phil was eager to help and he handed some bandages and rubbing alcohol to you so you could clean the wound. You also grabbed a spare scrap of leather for him to bite down on.

When you returned, Techno had moved to sit on his bed where he had already removed the greaves and discarded them beside him. You came to his side, putting down the alcohol, rag, and bandage.

"This is probably going to hurt, so I need you to bite down on this," you said, handing him the leather scrap.

"Ok," he said, watching you grab the alcohol and rag from the floor, "Just- just tell me when,"

"Alright," He put the leather in between his teeth, biting lightly, "you ready?"

He nodded, you put the alcohol rag onto the blood-crusted gash. He let out a sharp, low hiss, tightening his jaw on the leather to release some of the pain. You cleaned up quickly to minimise the pain and then wrapped it in the bandage, leaving some so you could clean and replace it later.

"All done, you ok?" You looked at him, one of his eyes was watering.

"Yeah, the pain's much worse when you're not pumped full of adrenaline."

"You better not be hiding any more gashes under all of those clothes,"

"Wanna find out?" He flashed you a smirk, amused by his own confidence.

"I'll take your word for it, but you're going to need to change that shirt, it's covered in blood."

"At least it's not my blood," you shivered a bit at that remark and helped him take his shirt off, careful not to remove the fresh bandages along with it.

For the first time, you saw him without a shirt off. He seemed surprisingly slender for being as strong as he is. There were numerous scars that etched every battle and lesson learned into his skin. Lots of them looked older than you expected and you suddenly realised that he must have been fighting for a long time before coming to the server.

"Like what you see?" he asked, and you rushed to put the shirt down and find an excuse.

"Um, I- I was just looking at your scars, I'll bring this downstairs,"

You rushed away, turning bright red, embarrassed that he had noticed your stares. You absent-mindedly tossed the shirt into the 'wash pile' and then you remembered, in your rush, you had forgotten his greaves. With a huff, you climbed the ladder back to his room.

Techno sat in front of the fireplace, now roaring with renewed vigour from the log he'd tossed in. His pink hair had been undone from the messy braid he had put in that morning. It was almost dyed red and black by the blood and soot in it. He was playing with it, picking out debris and running his fingers through the more knotted bits.

“Tech?”

“Hmm?” he looked up at you, still fiddling with the hair in his hands.

You sat down next to him and he relaxed into a cross-legged position, with one knee tucked under his chin. His free hand is right next to yours and he doesn’t look at you. His face is red, probably from the fire.

“You looked like you were in a trance? Are you ok?”

Silence filled the room again,"

“You don’t have to tell me but just know I’m here if you need to talk. Obviously, I haven’t tattled about anything yet or Tommy and the Butchers would be knocking your door down by now.”

“The voices are quieter than normal. I can hear myself think.”

You try to be encouraging “So? What are you thinking about?”

He looks you in the eyes, they’re deep, his pupils adjusting makes you feel like he’s looking into your soul.

“Um, I’m not sure you’d want to know.”

You frown and protest since you’re now more curious than ever but still a bit freaked out. "C'mon now you've got me curious,"

Techno looked away, solemnly gazing at the fire “I meant what I said about you being a trusted friend. I don't get many of those so, thanks. As for why this is coming up now, well, I guess I’m lonely.”

You hesitated, “Me too, Tech. You're kind of the only one I trust, and I guess Phil, too, but I'd trust you with my life.”

He blushes, looks away, and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear before turning back to you and putting his hand on yours.

You immediately flush and you see a grin seep onto his face.

"I'm not really talking about friends anymore. I want... someone..." he almost whispers

"You mean?" he nods, "I guess I've never had anyone before. I think it'd be nice to see what it'd be like."

“I think we can kill two birds with one stone here, don’t you?”

Now you're both bright red, nervous, schoolkids who gingerly lean into each other's faces, gaze fixed on the other's lips. Your hearts beat hard while your brains rush to make sure you feel insecure, the voices in Techno's mind screaming excitedly.

“You good up there Techno? Your light is still on, it's far past midnight, mate!” Phil shouts from the bottom of the ladder.

“I’m fine, just," He pulls away from you, "reading. Goodnight Phil,”

Techno's ears perk up to listen to the receding footsteps. You’re both standing now, he's standing over the trapdoor, making sure Phil had gone. Once he was sure, he comes over and kisses you hard.

“Tech-"

“Is this ok? I’m not doing anything wrong am I?”

You think He’s clearly never done this before, as you respond "Yeah, I like it..." you continue, stumbling towards his bed where you’re initially just kissing like two teenagers as if it were your first time, desperate, but awkward.

Your hand was pressing against his chest as you laid next to him, tasting each other's spit, learning the ropes since neither of you had ever done this before.

The light from the fire made your shadows dance across the wall, arms moving to hold each other closer, legs wrapping around Techno's, bodies shifting so he's on top of you. Only the roar and crackle of the fire and the occasional grunt or gasp from you or Techno could be heard.

--- Smut begins here ---

As you both part to take a breath, he pulls your shirt over his head. When he leans into the crook of your neck, you notice the tent in his pants pressing against your inner thigh. In between your own legs, there was a pool of slick forming.

You moan, loud, fully knowing that would send Techno wild. He pushes further towards you and holds your arms above your head so he could press his mouth against your neck, leaving red, hot, sticky marks leading from your collarbone to your abdomen.

You're both panting as he lets go of your arms and you wrap them around his neck, pulling his head in for a long, deep kiss. His hot breath warms your cheeks as he repositions himself.

"Hey, is this still ok?" He asks between breaths.

"Abso-fucking-lutely,"

He fully loses himself, taking his hand from your cheek and moving it to your pants, never losing eye contact. You nod and he pushes his hand into the spot between your legs which was now drenched in slick. He found his way to your hole and pushed his index finger into it, creating a sensation you'd never felt before.

Instinctually, you gasp and then moan, harder than before. You rock your hips to his rhythm while he continues to press bruises into your torso. Eventually, he brings his face back to yours and kisses you. You let out another moan into his mouth. He grunts and then chuckles, kissing your cheek before pulling his finger out and then going back in with two.

Now, you're whining, pulling on his long, pink hair. You notice everything in those moments, his rhythmic breaths into your neck and pumping of his finger in and out of your sex, his other hand holding your waist, pushing upwards to caress you, his soft hair in your hand.

"Is it my turn now?" He gruffs.

You hum in affirmation as he pulls away and you kick off your pants as he undoes his own. You immediately notice his size. Compared to his fingers, which were pretty long and thick, to begin with, due to his big hands, his member was a giant. His hand that had previously been half inside of you was now working his dick, its head coated in pre-cum.

While you had seen other penises before, mostly in study, you had never seen one up close, and you'd only seen ones on humans. The hybrid piglin-shapeshifter was sporting a human-like head and shaft, 9 inches (at least) all the way down to a knot... he had a knot...

He notices you gaping at his dick and grins, leaning into you again. "Wanna help me with this, or... should I help m'self?"

Eager to please, you lightly push him forward so you're both sitting up while your hand inspects the new acquaintance. You look up at Techno for guidance. He nods and pushes your hand down with his own. He guides your hand up and down the shaft until he’s no longer guiding you and you’re doing it all yourself.

He does the same with you. The space between your legs was now, simply put, slippery. He did his best to please you, eventually managing three fingers easily.

The pants and gasps were syncing, the knot in your stomach growing stronger while you danced your mouth on the head of his member. He lets out a particularly loud grunt and removes his fingers from your sex. You suddenly feel empty, and he pushes you over onto your stomach.

He puts himself under you, his dick under your mouth. You lick the ever-present pre-cum off of the head of his dick once again and then begin to bob your head up and down, managing to fit him halfway before choking on him. His groans were now louder than yours, becoming more frequent.

"Ughh- fuck," he moans.

Now he holds your head and gently begins to fuck your mouth. Your bobbing was no longer enough, he wanted more. He thrust his hips into you, managing to get a third of the way into you and then it turns into deepthroating after every thrust.

You gag, unable to take him all the way, and so he decides enough is enough and you both rush to get him inside of you. He gets up, moving to position himself above you. You continue to stay in the position he left you in, on your hands and knees.

"Turn around," Techno says.

And so you do, you lay on your back, full of anticipation and covered in juices. He puts his hand on your stomach, leaning in to kiss you lightly, pressing more red marks into your sides, slowly turning you so you face the wall.

He pulls away and holds your leg away from the other, practically putting you into the splits.

"Techno..." You whisper.

"Hmm?"

"Is this gonna hurt?"

"Dunno, darlin'," He leans in again, "let me know if it gets too hard, ok? I'll stop if you say so."

You nod and kiss for confirmation, reaching to hold your own leg up to give him full access.

He inserts the head and you can already feel the stretch, slightly painful but you push on, your fingers grasping the sheets to keep yourself grounded. He’s pushing into you slowly, making sure you're not getting in over your head. You hold the sheet tighter, groaning from the stretch.

He pulls out slightly and the pressure releases. You moan hard, making sure Techno knows that you like what you feel. He pushes in again and begins to thrust into you. Techno is getting further and further with every thrust, and you moan between every breath. He's three-fifths of the way in and he's only getting harder.

Techno's hand replaces yours, keeping your leg raised as you move your hand to work yourself along with him. Your heart beats faster and he picks up the pace. He can get all the way to the knot before pulling out and thrusting in again.

"Tech... Fuck, it's so gooood..."

Now he's becoming sparattic and his face goes into your neck, biting softly, barely enough for blood to form. The knot in your stomach tightens and you scream into the pillow as he pushes all the way in, his skin hitting yours as his knot slips into you.

He moans and thrusts lightly into you, coming inside of you. You feel the pressure inside of you release as you come with him. You're being filled with his sperm, eventually spilling out along with your own come onto the sheet.

He continues to work you with his hand, breathing heavily into your neck. Your heartbeats are in sync and his juices continue to spill out of you, soaking everything below you. You try to look him in the eye as he shakes slightly, somehow still coming.

"Tech? You're still..." you gasp. "I know, sorry... it might be a while..." He grunts out.

Techno's ears perk up and he shoves you under the blanket, still stuck inside of you with the knot.

"What-"

He puts a hand over your mouth as you quiver underneath him, overstimulated by the pressure and his hand which still rested in between your thighs. What the hell is he doing?! The non-stop cum is weird enough, what-

Soon enough, your questions were answered when you heard the footsteps downstairs.

“Do you have my hat?” Phil's voice yells from the base of the ladder.

“Can't you-" he breathes, "you get it in the morning?”

“No, I'm going out super early tomorrow to scout out and make sure we haven’t been followed back.”

“Uh," fuck "it’s on the chair next to my desk up here? I’m in bed…”

Phil comes up the ladder and opens the hatch, eventually finding his hat while techno covers your mouth and lays belly to belly with you, he’s still dribbling a bit, so are you. You’re whimpering slightly.

Phil stops at the trapdoor. “Did you mean to leave the fire on mate?”

“Uh, yeah I was gonna let it burn… I was cold”

“Where’s your friend, loverboy?”

You feel Techno blush above you, his warmth suddenly radiating out from him.

“Um. They went to trade with some piglins since we’re almost out of spectral arrows.”

“Alright let me know when they get back, I just want to make sure they’re ok. Ever since you found them in the snow you’ve been doing better, it seems. Almost like you two are a... thing?”

The question lingered momentarily and you could almost hear Phil's eyebrow raise before Techno answered.

“Hmm, thank you, Phil. Close the trapdoor when you leave, I don’t want the warmth to leave.”

“Alright.”

Finally, the footsteps were gone. He pulls the blanket off of them and he takes his hand off of your mouth. You gasp for dramatic effect, laughing quietly to yourselves at the close call.

"Can I tell you something?" Techno whispers into your ear.

"Yes, you're literally deep inside of me, I'm guaranteed to be interested in what you have to say,"

"I love you"

"I love you, too..."