#there's something really fun about making a batch and then going to bed and minding my own business for the day

[purpleqilinwrites]

i started making water kefir at home about 3 weeks ago and i must say that it's been really good for my skin. 11/10 would recommend!

[citricacidprince]

...Mable stuck with bill timestuck, you say? I wonder if that would go better or worse than dipper being alone with bill.

Here to mention that I somehow only noticed your signature when it was next to fiddleford, and thought you were (rightly) calling him a prince. It took an embarrassingly long time for me to connect the dots.

Haha you’re not the first person to mistake my signature for actual writing so dw you’re good lol!

And as for my thoughts of Mabel and Bill in a Timestuck AU,,,

I may or may not have written a drabble in a mutuals DMs a few years back about a confrontation between Mabel and Bill and the aftermath of it! I also may or may not have just fixed it up and straight up doubled the word count haha-

Since I’m feeling a tad bit brave I’m gonna post the drabble under the cut for anyone to read along with two doodles I’ve done for it, I only ask that yall be nice to me since I don’t write very often and know I ain’t that good at it hehe-

Also I’m not lying this is like,,, 4707 words… I got possessed to write this haha

Before I begin!!! Important!!!

Trigger Warnings: Choking/Asphyxiation, harm to children, minor descriptions of small cuts and minuscule amounts of blood, verbal planning of commiting a murder/killing

(if I missed any please tell me!)

With that out of the way here's my stupidly long Timestuck AU drabble that's been on my back burner for years! The only thing you really need to know is that the twins time-traveled back after Weirdmagenddon of their own volition. Dipper is with Stan and Mabel is with Ford and Fiddleford. Mabel has been staying with the two for almost a month now and Fiddleford is the only one who knows she's a time traveler.

With the stage set, please enjoy!

💫—————————————🚩

It’s late into the night, Mabel is tossing and turning and can't go to sleep. Her mind is spiraling as she overthinks and worries about Bill, her brother, her Grunkles, everything. So at about 1AM she decides that she’s not going to bed anytime soon and gets up off the living room couch which she has called her new bed while staying with her younger Grunkle Ford and Fiddleford.

Despite it being the dead of night Mabel thought it’d be a good idea to just make something food related in hopes it would tire her out. Also, she figured it would be a fun idea since she knows Stanford is most likely still awake and probably hasn’t eaten in a while. She could make him something easy and sweet, like a batch of cookies, and give them to him as a gift! Who doesn’t like 1AM cookies?! If she doesn’t have the stuff to make that, eh, she’ll figure it out and make something else!

A bonus to this is that if Ford says he’s not hungry, a bold faced lie, she’d use her sweetest and biggest puppy eyes until he ate some. Maybe she could even convince him to go to bed and not stay up till 4AM!

The brunette starts making a batch of cookies in the cover of night, making sure to have plenty enough for Fidd's in the morning, and putting her entire heart and all her worries into the mix in hopes the oven would ease away the stress weighing down her mind.

Sure it took a while, but it would totally be worth it to see her young Grunkle's face light up in shock at the sight of a warm batch of cookies shoved into his face and getting crumbs on his nerdy notes!

Right as she was finishing up wrapping up three separate plates worth of cookies in a napkin with a pretty little bow, for the ✨aesthetic✨ she happily told herself, she hears a pair of heavy boots walk into the kitchen.

The voice of her, now young, Grunkle Ford calls out her name in the quiet kitchen. Just as she had expected, he was awake.

Before the excited brunette could whirl around and surprise Ford with the 1-2 AM batch of cookies she lovingly went and made by hand, his low voice rumbled out, “Could you grab me a mug? One from the cabinet.”

He sounded a little funny, like he just woke up. Mabel smiled as she could already picture Stanford’s bleary and tired face as he goes to make a cup of coffee with the mug he’s asking for. She lets out a small sound of exertion as she pushes herself onto the counter since she’s too short to reach the cabinets otherwise and gingerly opens the cabinet so it doesn’t squeak and pulls out a mug. Based on the small cracks and worn paint on the ceramic it seemed a tad old, the faded words of ‘Backupsmore 1973’ barely legible.

Just as Mabel turns around, about to lightly scold her young Great Uncle for drinking coffee at 2 AM instead of getting some rest, a large hand wraps around her little neck. She didn’t even have a chance to scream as she’s suddenly slammed into the now closed cabinet, the air knocked out of her lungs and her head spinning from the impact, a loud sound of ceramic shattering on the wooden floor echoing through the kitchen and Mabel’s ringing ears

A fearful confusion consumes her mind as she, unsure of what’s happening in her dazed state until she catches a glimpse of Stanford. Gone were the warm brown eyes she’s grown accustomed to, in their place were the sickly yellow slit eyes of a monster she knew all to well.

Bill Cipher.

“Shooting Star, there you are! I think you're getting a tad too comfortable around here! Let's fix that!"

Malice built in her throat as she spat out, her brows furrowed and her brown eyes glaring down his yellow ones, “Bill! You-”

“Ah, so you do know me! I assumed so, but wasn’t quite sure!”

The six fingered hand around her neck pressed a tad harder against the wooden cabinet behind her, making her wince from the pressure.

“Here’s the deal, Shooting Star, you’re being a massive thorn in my side.”

Her back was already aching from the impact of her getting slammed against the cabinet.

“Making Sixer second guess his trust in me with your insufferable kindness and child-like whimsy.”

Her sock-covered feet were slipping and sliding on the wooden countertop, legs uncontrollably trembling as her fingers gripped at Stanford’s large forearm in hopes of steadying herself.

“It was amusing at first but now it’s just annoying. So I need you,”

His hand tightened even more, making Mabel let out a sharp hiss of pain.

“Out of the picture.”

Mabel’s feet no longer are touching the countertop as Bill suddenly pulls her away from the cabinet, easily dangling her little body in the air and effectively hanging her. Panic instantly shoots through her and tears well up in her eyes as her airway is suddenly completely cut off, her little hands grabbing and clawing at her possessed great uncle’s forearm while her legs wildly kick at the air, too short to even graze against Bill’s chest.

Bill’s free hand raises up and idly taps his chin, as his musing over something indecisively, an wide and uncanny grin stretched across the possessed scientist’s face as he loudly questions, “Hmmm… how about… throwing you in the lake! If the water doesn’t kill you the cold air will!”

Mabel started to thrash around even harder, her heart pounding in her chest as fear coursed through every nerve in her body, her flight response in full gear as she tried over and over again to get out of Bill’s grip with no avail.

“Oooh! Or I could just tie you up and bury you in the snow! I hear frostbite is real killer these days!”

Blood was rushing to her ears; she could barely hear a word he was saying. All she could focus on was the panic bubbling in her chest and adrenaline pumping in her veins, screaming at her that she didn’t want to die.

It didn’t take long before her vision began to blur, her clawing hands and kicking feet getting more and more numb and slow with each passing seconds. She could faintly hear Bill say something about ‘throwing’, ‘roof’, and ‘classic!’ before she could feel herself almost completely clock out, vision fluttering in and out as her hand weakly claws at his arm one last time.

Just as she was about to give up completely, the polydactyl hand around her neck suddenly let go, sending Mabel unceremoniously crashing to the floor. She let in a large gasp of air, coughing her lungs out as air desperately tried to fill them once more. The brunette doesn’t even care about the small shards of broken ceramic cutting into her hands or shins, she was trying to make sure she didn’t accidentally start hyperventilating as drool and tears drip from her face to the floor with every sharp breath.

Mabel, disoriented and dazed, manages to glance up through strands of her long and curly brunette hair to see Ford still standing there with those disgusting yellow eyes, which were now staring off to space with annoyance clearly visible in his gaze.

"Geez Sixer, you chose the worst time to want your body back to 'test a new theory' huh?" He quietly mumbles under his breath, looking upset that his fun was being rudely ripped away from him.

Suddenly he stares down at Mabel, who was clutching her throat and panting heavily, brown eyes unable to stop crying. Despite this, despite all the pain and numbness that ran through her, she still found it in her to glare at the dream demon with as much animosity as she could muster while surrounded by ceramic shards and small prickles of blood.

"Well… we’ll just have to pick this up another time, won't we Shooting Star?"

The possessed body of Stanford Pines strolls towards the archway leading out of the kitchen, however before he leaves completely, he stops and whirls around with that same twisted smile Mabel vividly remembers seeing on her possessed brother’s face just a few months ago. "Oh, Shooting Star? Would you be a doll and clean up this mess? Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt now, would we?"

And with one final cackle he left, making his way back downstairs to Stanford’s study, presumably to make it appear like he never left in the eyes of the oblivious scientist, leaving the little brunet alone on the floor to lightly grip her neck, wincing at the bruise that's bound to appear the next day.

She stayed there silently for what felt like hours but was only just a couple minutes, the adrenaline coursing through her veins slowly but surely fading away as the feeling finally came back to her numb fingers and toes, relieved that she isn’t hyperventilating anymore and she can actually breathe.

She eased herself off the cold wooden floor, her little body trembling the entire time.

Despite the feeling of spite coursing through her veins for that awful dream demon, he was right…, she really didn’t want anyone to get hurt… So instead of immediately going to fix herself up she spent the next 10 minutes sweeping up the broken mug and getting all the broken shards of ceramic into the trash.

Curse her and her big heart…!

When she was done it was about 2 AM, and it was now officially time to check the damage.

Before she left the kitchen she made sure to put the plates of cookies into the fridge.

She didn’t really feel hungry anymore.

With a couple of winces and hisses of pain she managed to tip toe herself up the stairs and to the bathroom, making sure she didn’t accidentally wake up Fiddleford by stepping on a loose plank or opening the door too loud. Once inside she gingerly pulls out the old timey medkit from under the sink and sits on the floor.

Well, technically the medkit was modern since it was the 80s…

Wah, Mabel! Not the time!

With a deep breath she gingerly treats the tiny cuts gracing her hands and shins, trying not to cry as she disinfects each cut just like Grunkle Ford taught her to at the end of the summer, plucking out mini pieces of ceramic embedded in her skin with a pair of tweezer like how her Grunkle Stan had taught her at the beginning of the summer (note from her past self, splinters are never fun).

Cleaning and applying band-aids to the cuts was the easy part, most of the bandages would be hidden under her sweater and the winter pants Fiddleford had gifted her during her first couple days staying at the shack.

It was her neck that was going to be hard to hide.

Mabel stood up and got on a step stool to look into the minor, immediately wincing at the sight of her bare neck, dark purple was already creeping in and bruising every bit of her neck. The brunette leaned closer to get a better look and almost whispered out one of the many swears she had accidentally learned from Stanford while living here.

There was a hand bruised into her neck, and it encompassed her entire neck.

She gingerly touched her neck and winced at the dull pain. Guess she wasn’t going to take off her sweater for about 2 weeks now… just 1 week if she was lucky enough…

She tentatively took a step outside of the bathroom and tiptoed down the hallway again, trying to not make a single sound. Just when she got to the steps she heard a door open behind her, causing her to instantly crouch down and hope that she was far enough down the stairs that her body was hidden from sight.

She dared herself to peek just above the top step to see Fiddleford standing outside of his room, stretching and yawning before closing his door and walking towards the bathroom Mabel just left, making the 13-year-old let out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to see her like this.

She knew she should probably tell Fiddleford what happened, but she just couldn’t. Maybe it was that childish fear of getting in trouble over nothing getting to her, or maybe it was the fear that her young Grunkle would be blamed for what Bill did.

Regardless, despite her better judgment, she kept her mouth shut and decided to hide her bruises from everyone else in the house, silently thinking of a way she could somehow protect herself from Bill.

She could practically hear Dipper yelling at her about how bad of an idea this was, but she was too shaken up to think of anything else…

So, she kept with the plan even as she shakily slipped a sweater over her large t-shirt she wore as a night gown and fell asleep on the couch, huddled in the corner in a ball as vivid nightmares haunted her fitful sleep, showing flashes of a possessed Stanford Pines throwing her off either the house or a water tower.

She woke up the next day to the warm smell of breakfast and the soft tones of Fidd's humming a tune in the kitchen, her body absolutely aching and a tad sweaty from the combo of the sweater and the fireplace keeping the room warm.

Mabel winced as she got off the couch. Yep… her back is definitely bruised.

She tentatively walked towards the open archway leading into the kitchen, silently calming her nerves and trying to put a smile onto her face. It helped that Fiddleford is making breakfast, she loves his food.

The kicthen was so empty when she first arrived but the southern man immediately starting keeping the place stocked when it was clear that she was going to stay there for a while. He also insistent on making her a meal 3 times a day since she was a ‘growin’ lil’ girl’. Because of her memories of Fiddleford being ‘Old Man McGucket’ were much more prominent in her brain it was easy to forget that he was once a father, but in those domestic moments when he doted and fussed over her it was clear that he was a good one.

Well, when he was sane that is…

She quickly shook off the bleak memory.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

She let out a low breath as a wide smile covered her face, her round cheeks rosy as she happily skipped inside.

Fiddleford perked up at the sound of Mabel walking inside, smiling as immediately spoke with a fond voice, "Ey there sweetpea, sleep well?" He idly glanced behind to see Mabel in her baggy t-shirt/sleep gown as well as a sweater on top of that, making him raise an eyebrow as he playfully asks, "Did someone get' cold last night?"

"Just a little bit." Mabel playfully replied back, unable to stop the wince that crossed her face at the sound of her hoarse voice.

Fiddleford, who was already done making breakfast, immediately whipped his head around at the sound. "Honeybee, are ya' alright?"

She lightly coughs into her fist a couple times and passingly remarks, “I’m fine, it's just morning gunk! Just need some water, haha!” Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Fiddleford still had a suspicious look in his eye as he looked over the little lady before deciding to let her off easy with this one, grabbing a rag and wiping his hands while replying with a quiet, “Alright, if ya say so, sunshine…”

He quickly pours Mabel a glass of water and then grabs a plate of bacon and pancakes. “Fer you, made just how you like it,” Mabel sits down in her chair as Fiddleford places the glass of water in front of her and a plate of pancakes and some bacon that is extremely burnt. “Burnt in a volcano.”

The brunette drinks some water first, happy to note that it actually does ease the pain in her throat! After that she eagerly grabs a burnt piece of bacon and shoves it into her mouth, loving the way flakey black residue smears onto her fingers and the overwhelming taste of what can only be described as ‘BURNT’ fills her mouth. She muffles out, “It’s perfect!” In between bites as Fiddleford chuckles at her antics and makes himself a plate. “Yer such an odd lil’ duck, honeydew! Only kid I’ve ever met who wanna me ta’ burn their meal!”

Mabel immediately shoots back, pointing at Fiddleford with a mouth full of bacon, “Tahts cause ohther peowple are COWERDS!!!”

The lanky man lets out a full on belly laugh as he grabs his plate and sits at the table, the two beginning to talk about anything that crosses their mind.

Stanford wasn’t going to join them for breakfast. He’s usually asleep at this time or buried in whatever notes he was currently writing.

…Mabel feels a little bad that she's kinda happy he wouldn’t join them… Her throat feels like it’s constricting all over again at the thought of those sickly yellow eyes and horrid laughter…

At some point while eating, Fiddleford makes a joke that makes Mabel loudly laugh, the sudden shout of laughter causing her to wince and try to grab at her throat. She stops herself a couple inches short of the grab and quickly puts her hand back down, but the damage was already done.

Fiddleford, concern coming back at full force, puts down his fork and immediately asks with a concerned tone, "Honey, is ‘ere somethin' wrong with ‘ur neck?"

Sweat began to bead on Mabel’s forehead and she tried to immediately brush off the concern with a not so convincing, "Whaaaaat, psh, nah!"

He raises an eyebrow at the clearly nervous little girl. "Mabel, if yer' hurt I'd like to know."

She starts to fidget in her seat, fingers wrapping together and her brown eyes darting away. "Look, it's not thaaaat bad you don't gotta worry about it-"

At the confirmation that she is indeed hurt makes him sit up and shoot back, "Well tha' just makes me MORE worried bout it!"

Unable to come up with anymore excuses Mabel plays with a fork in front of her, eyes locked with her plate. Fiddleford let out a soft sigh and leans closer to the brunette across the table and rests his hand on hers, a kind smile on his face as he gently adds on with that fatherly tone that immediately made Mabel feel better, "Darling, it ain't gonna get better if ya’ don't lemme help. I promise I ain’t gon’ get mad, ya hear?"

Mabel tentatively glanced up at the southern man’s soft green eyes and could tell he meant every kind word.

So, despite her promising to keep her injuries a secret, she takes a deep breath and nods her head, gingerly taking off the thick hand-made sweater to leave her neck and bandaged up arms exposed to the world. The lanky southern man’s eyes seem to grow more horrified every passing second.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph-"

Fiddleford jumps up from the table, almost making his plate fall off while doing so, quickly rounding the table and crouching in front of the brunette with green eyes filled with so much worry and horror.

He found himself fussing over the girl who had easily wormed herself into his and Ford's hearts and found himself growing even more sickened at every bruise and cut he found, though nothing could compare to that sinking feeling of dread he felt looking at Mabel's bruised neck.

He cupped the brunette’s face and could feel tears well up in his eyes as he stuttered out a confused, "W-wha'..., Mabel wha' on earth happened-" His heart breaking trying to even comprehend what could have happened to her.

On the opposite end, Mabel could feel her heart swell at Fidd's fatherly fussing, but tried to brush it off the best she could, not wanting him to worry about her.

"I'm fine really! I just, uh… tripped down the stairs…? …Yeah! Didn't want to worry you, haha!"

Fiddleford, who suddenly stopped paying attention to what Mabel was saying, let his eyes looking closer at the girl's neck before they widened in a horrifying realization.

"I… Is tha' a hand…?"

A rush of panic suddenly runs through Mabel as she tries to come up with some excuse to throw him off, something, anything!

"Fidd’s it's FINE! I just… uh… wore a sweater that was too tight…?” Goodness she’s screwed, even she was aware of how unsure she sounded.

Fiddleford still wasn’t paying attention. Instead one of his hands lowered from her rosy cheeks and ever so slightly touched her neck with the lightest of touches. His green gaze was analytical as finger traced down the bruised skin, talking to himself so quietly that even Mabel almost didn’t hear him as he quietly began to count.

“One, two, three, four, five, s-”

The blond cut himself off with a sharp inhale through his nose as the look of worry that had previously graced the southern man's face suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a look Mabel had never seen on his face before.

It was a quiet anger. The kind of anger that's terrifying to witness as it bubbles from deep inside but you refuse to let it show on your face, even as your hands begin to tremble and your vision goes red.

Without saying a word Fiddleford stood up and stayed completely silent, unable to say a word for about 10 seconds while his face was blank and unreadable. Finally, Fiddleford looked down at Mabel and gave a kind smile that didn't fully reach his eyes.

"Sweetie, could ya' stay here a sec? I have something importan' I need tha’… discuss… with Stanferd."

After finishing that statement he gently patted the top of her brunette head and walked out of the kitchen archway, turning the corner and heading up the stairs that lead to Stanford's room, walking with such silent intensity that it kinda frightened her.

After a couple moments of staying frozen in her chair she finally managed to shake off the feeling, realizing she had to stop Fiddleford! As scary as it would be seeing Stanford again after last night's… incident… she couldn't just let Fiddleford go confront Ford without the full story!

She sprang up from her chair and winced at the pain radiating from her back. Yep! Still definitely bruised!

Mabel rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She stumbles to a stop at the end of the steps as she sees Fiddleford standing outside Ford's door, just as quiet as he was downstairs. He raises his hand and gives a firm echoing knock and she could faintly hear her young Grunkle respond with a strong, "Come in!"

She hates that she shivers a bit at his voice.

She hates that she's a little bit afraid of him.

Fiddleford doesn't respond and instead just opens the door and then quietly closes it behind him. The door doesn’t close all the way which makes a sliver of light from Ford's bedroom/study shine against the floor in the hallway.

Well... Fiddleford hadn't broken any windows or started yelling, so maybe, just maybe, he's going in there to calmly talk out the problem with Ford? Well, that was more wishful thinking on Mabel's part. She HOPES they will just, talk it out, and no one will get hurt...

A loud crash and shout echoed through the hallway.

A girl could dream can't she?

Mabel sprints to Stanford’s door, tripping over herself the whole way, and yanks open the heavy wooden door as quickly as she could.

When she finally pries it open she’s greeted with the sight of Fiddleford in the middle of trying to choke out Stanford, while Stanford is leaning against one of his smaller wooden cabinets, pushing Fidds away (to the best of his ability) with his foot, clutching his very bloody nose in confusion.

Mabel rushes in and pushes the southern man away from her bleeding Great Uncle to the best of her ability but Fiddleford upon seeing Mabel finally backs off from trying to murder Ford, but the look of pure anger firmly remains on his face.

Ford looks at Fiddleford with pure confusion as he pushes himself off the small wooden cabinet, clutching his bleeding nose all the while.

"F, what on earth has gotten into you!"

Fiddleford stared back with his mouth agape, absolutely gobsmacked, before finally yelling back, "Wha'- what's gotten into ME?! What's gotten into YOU Stanferd Pines!"

Fidds pushed past Mabel and jabbed his finger into the brunet’s chest.

"She's a lil girl?! How DARE you even lay a FINGER on her!"

"F what on earth are you talking about?!"

Fiddleford roughly grabs Ford's shoulders and pushes him to look towards Mabel with a surprising amount of force.

"SHE'S what I'm talkin' bout! Stanferd Filbrick Pines who gave you tha' idea ya' had tha' GODDAMN right to even lay a FINGER on her-"

Stanford couldn't focus on the rant Fiddleford poured into his ears instead his eyes state frozen on the disgusting purple mark staining Mabel's neck.

"Mabel… who-"

Stanford knelt next to the sweet girl who reminded him so much of Stanley in his youth and felt a familiar pang in his chest. That feeling he'd feel whenever Lee came home covered in bruises. That feeling to protect… and to hurt anyone who dares to hurt them.

"Sweetheart… who did this? What happened?"

Fiddleford scoffed. "Ya should know."

Ford shivered at how cold F had sounded. Out of all of his years of knowing him, Fidds had never sounded like this.

Then the meaning of those words finally hit him.

Stanford rushed to stand up and looked back to Fiddleford's furious eyes with his own look of disbelief.

"Y-... You think I did this?"

Fiddleford's eyes didn't change in the slightest.

"Ya'. Ya' I do."

"We've known each other for years, we went to college together, I went to your wedding, you are easily my best friend. Do you honestly think I'm capable of doing something like this?!"

"I used ta'," Fidds crossed his arms. "Now I ain't so sure."

Ford didn't know HOW to feel. This felt like a betrayal but not in the way Stanley's felt. He also felt offended. And hurt. And so many other emotions that were swirling in his chest.

"How? How did you even get it in your head that I had something to do with this!? How could you look at me and even IMAGINE me hurting her?! I can't even imagine myself hurting her! She's-"

"Hand."

Ford froze from his rant.

"What."

"Yer' tha' only one who coulda' done it. How do I know? Hand."

"Ya' always go on an' on about the statistics of someone' being polydactyly. About how different ya' are."

"I want ya' to look at how many fingers are on that handprint on 'er neck, look me in tha' eye, and tell me who's most likely tha' guilty party."

Stanford froze, his face turning white at the realization. He didn't need to turn around and investigate the bruise on Mabel's neck. He now knows it had 6 fingers. When you put all the facts together, one thing is clear.

He IS the most likely person to have done it.

But there's a problem with that.

He DEFINITELY didn't do it.

He glanced back at Mabel, who seemed to be nervously pulling at her nightgown the entire time. After a moment she finally glances up, but after looking into his brown eyes for less than a second she quickly looked back down.

He didn't do it. He knows he didn't.

But if he didn't, why did she look so scared of him?

He didn't do it…

…Didn’t he…?

❔—————————————❓

Now this is a bonus doodle based on an idea I had for the aftermath of this! Stanford is stuck mulling over this in his room and when he finally leaves he notes that Mabel isn't asleep on the couch like usual. So of course he freaks out and assumes she ran away, running all over the house in hopes of finding her. He runs upstairs to Fiddleford’s room and knocks frantically on his door to get him to help him find the missing girl.

Fiddleford opens the door looking annoyed and tired. When Stanford says he can’t find Mabel and that he’s looked everywhere the southern man cuts him off by instantly replying “I know where she is.” That instantly calms down Ford but he looks confused as he asks “You do?” To which Fidd’s opens the door a little bit more to show Mabel asleep on his bed.

Stanford lets out a soft ‘Oh.’ And just stands there, looking awkwardly at Fiddleford for a moment before trying to break the tension with a weak chuckle and asking “Did she want to have a sleepover?” The blond doesn’t even hesitate to reply back, “Yeah. Because she’s scared of you, Stanford.” And closing the door on the brunet’s face.

Stanford doesn’t move for what feels like forever before he heads back to his room, feeling a little sick.

Anywho, I’m done now!!!

I’m happy and sorry you read through all of that, you can leave now! 💥💥💥

[neon-junkie]

Fractured

Summary: Tech's recent injury has led him to your Medical Bay, and despite you being excellent at your job, Tech needs additional assistance with easing the pain. You have something fun in mind.

Pairing: Tech x gn!Reader

Tags: Medical assistance, Fractured bones, Medic Reader, Friends to lovers, Oral (giving,) Handjobs, Size kink, Cock worship, Large cocks, Flirting, Pain relief.

Word count: 5.1k

Notes: This is set after Episode 1&2 of Season 2. I actually started writing this back when those episodes aired, but then… depression… lol I have never broken/fractured a bone before (alpha genes,) so I have no idea what actually goes on when you break one lol. I did my research, but… IDK, this is probs off, but you're not here for the medical side of things, are you? Also, I like the idea of nerds with big dicks. I don't really care about size IRL, but Tech with an absolute unit of a cock? Yeah, sign me the fuck up!!!

"You got squished like a bug."

"I did not-" Tech cuts himself off. "Like a bug? Please, restrain yourself from making such comedic remarks about my pain and suffering."

With that, Tech lets out a grunt, and you're unsure if it's at your remark, or an outlet from the pain that he's currently in.

Tech was squished like a bug during the last mission. Splat! As you so put it, after Tech explained what exactly happened in that war chest. The force of a thousand suns flattened his poor leg, and his thigh soaked up most of the damage.

That's what he gets for not wearing thigh armour.

That comment didn't go down well, either. However, Tech should know by now that your wit and sarcasm will never fail you. You have, after all, been running with the Batch long before the Clone Wars fizzled out into… whatever this is, The Galactic Empire, and those who opposite it.

If only Hunter would allow you and the others to join the fight…

Back onto the topic. Tech was carried into the Marauder's medical wing, with Echo's assistance, and left on the medical bed for you to check him over. He was hissing and wincing as he pushed himself up onto the table, his hands flexing whilst he gripped onto his thigh, and pleading eyes met yours as he began going over the series of events.

You were stationed with Hunter and Wrecker, seeing as Wrecker is your loyalist customer when it comes to injuries, only Tech has taken you by surprise!

"It's definitely fractured," you state as you dig through your medical kit, finding something exciting to dial down the pain. Tech has stated that he'd prefer to remain awake, which is understandable, seeing as you won't be stitching him up, or worse, cutting him open.

"I assume I'll have to lounge around with a cast on for the next six weeks?" Tech questions, his eyes watching you as you read over a few labels, deciding which drugs to supply.

"Minimum," you say with a soft nod, half-focused on his words. "These will do," you decide, holding the pill bottle in one hand, whilst the other shuts your medical box.

You turn to face Tech, and with a nonchalant expression, you order, "take off your pants."

Tech's eyes blink wide beneath his goggles, and he lets out a sheepish cough before asking, "pardon?"

"I can't do an X-ray with your pants still on, and do you really want your cast applied over those jeans?" you point to his new pants - casual, straight jeans, which surely can't be comfortable to work in?

Forgive him. It's his first time out in the Galaxy, and a newly freed man is bound to make poor decisions. Live and learn, Tech…

"Oh," Tech mutters. "Understood."

You hand him the pill bottle first, along with a glass of water, and give Tech a strict order to take his drugs before stripping off. "I'll give you some privacy, call for me when you're ready," you inform, and leave the medical wing, the door swishing shut behind you.

Sure, you've seen Tech in all sorts of states, almost naked that one time, back when you were new. Wrecker had found it hilarious to fiddle with the refresher's water supply as Tech went to take a shower, and poor Tech, who was rather reserved when first meeting you, had to leave the refresher with only a towel around his waist. He had barked at Wrecker to, "leave the hot water supply alone! Are you attempting to impress our newest member? Or perhaps, make a fool of me? Both? Do you find this amusing?!" blah blah blah…

-

Minutes have passed, and you overhear Tech calling out, "you may come in."

The door swishes open, and you're greeted by Tech in the same position on the medical bed, relaxing back against the headboard. An untidy pile of armour and clothing has appeared on the floor, not that he has the ability to neatly organise them.

Tech remains in just his turtleneck under armour, his fingertips currently running along the neckline, picking at its tightness. He's wearing a standard pair of briefs, nothing enticing, and the hemline thankfully stops above the X-ray zone. Great! You don't fancy having to order Tech to remove those as they're in the way…

As for the last item of clothing, they're-

"Tech," you speak with firmness. "Are those my socks?"

Tech stops picking at his neckline to gawk down at his feet. His wiggles his toes mindlessly as he sheepishly mumbles, "it appears they are."

"Is that so?" you repeat with a raised brow.

Tech's pleading eyes come out again as he meets your gaze. "I could not find a pair of my own this morning, and seeing as we were in a rush, I opted for the next best thing."

Your eyes trail from his to look at your socks once more, the little tookas on them smiling at you. They're fuzzy, warm and snuggly, and not the sort of item that you ever thought you'd see on Tech.

Omega? Perhaps.

Wrecker? Definitely.

But Tech?

"The next best thing," you repeat his words again. "I'm surprised that you picked the tookas over the voorpaks."

Tech scoffs. "Tookas are the obvious choice. Whilst voorpaks may be pleasing to the eye, they're needy, with no consideration for personal space. Tookas, on the other hand, are far more independent animals, with a…" Tech shuts his mouth, and nervously licks his lips before asking, "I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

"A sign that the drugs have kicked in," you say with a shrug. "Time to X-ray!"

Tech lets out a defeated sigh, and watches as you set up the X-ray machine. It's a numbing and dull task, but needed, seeing as such a smart man has managed to get himself injured.

The X-ray is taken, and you leave Tech to his own devices as you begin processing the scan at your desk. Whilst you wait for the image to form, you check on a few other things, and in the corner of your eye, you notice how Tech fails to sit still.

His fingertips are running along his neckline again, attempting to find fresh air, even though his under armour has never seemed restricting before. A light glisten of sweat is sitting above his brow, and whenever Tech's hands stray from his neckline, they rest directly on his lap. His fingertips begin fidgeting with the hem of his briefs, only for his eyes to meet yours, and his hands to fall motionless.

"Are you alright?" you question.

"F-fine," Tech mutters. "Just awaiting the results."

With that, the scan is processed, and you hum to yourself as you study it. Tech doesn't look away from you; he studies your reaction, and his shoulders drop with relief as yours do. "It's not as bad as I thought," you state as you rise from your desk. "I'll apply a cast, and unfortunately for you, you'll be bound to the Marauder for the next few weeks."

"Charming," Tech huffs.

You put together a bowl of warm soapy water, and hand it over to Tech, along with a towel. "Give your thigh a good scrub. It'll be the last time it's cleaned until the cast can come off."

Tech follows your orders, and leaves you to begin putting the cast supplies together. He's letting out soft grumbles as he scrubs himself down, not applying much pressure, seeing as bruises have already begun forming.

Within minutes, you're ready, and Tech is attempting to dry his thigh. The bowl of water is discarded, and you softly mutter, "here," as you take the towel from him. "Let me help."

With your order, Tech slowly bends his leg, raising his knee high enough so that you can gently dry the underside of his thigh - a task that he was struggling to do alone. He's still wincing as you dab over the area, but nowhere near as much as he was when tending to himself. It seems you're light on your touch, and Tech is silently thankful for it.

"Keep your leg bent like that," you instruct as you dispose of the towel, and bring your cast supplies over to the workbench.

You gently run your palm over Tech's thigh, questioning if his skin is dry enough to begin the application, and only now do you realise the predicament that you're in.

You're no stranger to Tech's good looks - impeccable cheekbones, a toned chest, nimble fingers, adorable doe eyes, and a hairline so sharp that it can slice through beskar - but the issue is purely that, his good looks. You're attempting to work, and the sensation of your fingertips dancing through the light hair on his tanned thighs is causing quite the distraction.

You scoot your stool over to the medical bed, and adjust the height. Once seated, you let out a deep sigh before beginning your work, attempting to keep your eyes on his forming bruises, rather than allowing it to wander… higher…

Tech looks down at you, quite literally, watching through his tinted goggles as you begin binding his leg, paying special attention to any signs of discomfort - not that he shows any. His fingertips are subconsciously entwining with each other, fidgeting, and attempting to cover up his briefs out of politeness. It's not that you've never seen Tech, or any of the boys in their undies before, but your face is less than half a meter from his crotch, and you're both well aware.

A huff flows from your lips as you fix the soft material in place, the easy part over and done with. Now, it's time to wet the plaster, and apply it one strip at a time - a lengthy process, seeing as you have to wait for each layer to dry before continuing.

As time goes on, you both seem to relax, becoming accustomed to your new-found closeness. Tech even strikes up a light conversation, filling you in on his side of the mission, and speaking highly about the civilian that he met on the way.

"He called me Ace," Tech informs you, "not that I had any issue with it. I found the nickname rather appealing."

Your eyes trail up to meet his, and a soft laugh slips from your lips as you repeat, "Ace?"

"I think it suits me," Tech says with a shrug. "Besides…"

His words continue, shifting into comforting background noise as you do your job. At least Tech is comfortable with you; when you first met, he'd only ever correct you, or information dump on you. Now, you can hold a conversation, seeing as you managed to win him over after correcting him on a minor detail a few weeks into being stationed with the Batch.

The more Tech mutters, the more his form relaxes. His hands move from his lap to adjust his goggles, not that they probably need it, and you can't help but notice something in the corner of your eye.

In hindsight, this was your fault. You shouldn't have looked. You should have kept your focus on your work, and prevented your eyes from prying at Tech's crotch. He is, after all, a grown man sitting in his underwear, with a pretty Medic rubbing their hands along his bare thigh. Tech is a soldier, and it's a known fact that soldiers don't have much leisure time, let alone spare time to do… stuff.

Your lips fall apart, and every circuit in your brain fries within an instant. Your hands, wet and covered in plaster, come to a halt in the middle of a wrap, and all you can focus on is… that.

Tech, after adjusting his goggles, instantly falls silent as he notices that you've come to a halt. He calls out your name, and despite his exceptional mind, it takes him a few moments to realise what's caused you to stop like a deer in the headlights.

"Oh," Tech sheepishly sighs as he puts two and two together. "I…" he stutters, but words fail him. So, thinking on his feet (and fractured leg) he returns his hands to his lap, covering up the issue.

Only now do you realise that you're a karking idiot. Seriously, why did you have to stare?! Why couldn't you have turned away, blushed, and continued working?

You go to apologise, but Tech beats you to it. "I apologise… It's… It's not intentional-" he sputters.

You let out a soft sigh, and shake your head in an attempt to slap some sense into your dense brain. "Tech," you mumble his name, and after blinking heavily, you look up at him.

Tech, with cheeks so bright that they outshine the suns, fails to make eye contact. He's breathing deeply, and mentally questioning if it's possible for him to run away from his problems, even with a half-finished, wet cast around his thigh.

Instead, Tech defends himself even more, seeing as the first option isn't doable. "I have been attempting to control myself this entire time, but it seems my-"

"-Tech," you call out to him again.

Tech finally meets your gaze, but only for a moment. He can't maintain eye contact, he simply can't, that is, until you state something that has his mind spinning in confusion.

"You're huge."

"P-pardon?" Tech sputters, followed by coughing into the back of his hand. That is not what he was expecting to fall from your lips.

You wave your hands defensively, droplets of plaster falling onto the medical bed. "I mean, it's alright, you can't help it," you sputter. Now, you're the one struggling to maintain eye contact, your mind fogging up, clouded with one simple thought.

"Can't help what?" Tech questions. "My erection? Or my size?"

A timid laugh flows from your lips, "I meant your erection, but both, I guess…"

Tech laughs with you, although it's clear that he's nervous. Whatever this is - intimacy, of some form - is new. You're no stranger to light flirting with your boys, and often receiving it in return, but holy Maker. Tech is rock solid, and there is no denying that you're the cause of it; the evidence is right there!

"Well…" Tech's words fall flat, and after adjusting his goggles, he gears up again. Rather than sit in silence, mutually starstruck over the unit sitting in Tech's pants, Tech decides to ramble as much as humanly possible. "…I have chalked my size up as a side effect from my enhancements. There are multiple documented cases that the standard clones all share the same erection size. I am, however, beyond those standards."

"Wait-" you cut him short with a soft laugh. "-There are documented cases of what?"

Tech lets out a chuckle, and shakes his head in awe that he's having to bring this information to light. "It's no secret that we clones have had intimate relationships, and some partners like to… how should I say it? Discuss their experiences with others on the holonet."

You repeat Tech's motions, softly laughing and shaking your head, amazed over this new information. "You mean, people like to jump on the holonet and discuss which Troopers kriff the best?"

"That is one way of putting it, yes."

"Dank farrik," you laugh. You mean, the information that you've been curious about this entire time, has been on the holonet at your disposal? Idiot! Why didn't you simply search for it?

There's no denying that you're attracted to both your squad, and their regular brothers, and as always, curiosity wanders… At least some beings were smart enough to post their findings on the net, along with… whatever else might be on there. You make a mental note to check it out later!

"What were you doing on those sites?" you question, and decide to start working again, seeing as the plaster is slowly drying on your fingertips.

To your surprise, Tech's emotions remain calm as he mindlessly replies, "I was researching my… ahem, abnormality."

"I see…" you conclude. Curious for more, you take a gamble, and up your flirting game. "Has anybody started a thread for Clone Force 99?" you say with a soft purr, causing Tech's ears to perk up as blush begins to form across his cheeks.

"I…" Tech stutters. "Not that I am aware of, no," he says with a nervous chuckle.

Still with wet plaster on your hands, you put on a cheeky grin as you ask, "we could fill in the blank."

Your name comes stumbling out of Tech's mouth as all the heat in his body rises to his cheeks. "You cannot be serious!" He sweats, refusing to maintain eye contact. Nervous hands fiddle with the hemline of his shirt, wringing the fabric tightly in his bare palms, all whilst still attempting to cover up the topic in the room.

"I am," you say with a shrug. "I mean, I've just about seen yours," you gesture to his erection, hidden behind a thin layer of fabric, yet bold enough to make your imagination dance.

"M-Maker," Tech stutters once more. "Where are those pills?"

You laugh as Tech fumbles about with the pill bottle at his side, sliding another one out into the palm of his hand. He doesn't even bother swigging it down with water, dry swallowing the pill like an absolute mad man. "You do know those pills are to ease your pain, right?" you state whilst wrapping another layer around his leg.

"I am certainly in some form of pain. Although I am unsure of the exact type," he sighs, and finally takes a sip of water, correcting his prior mistake.

Biting back a laugh, you suggest, "painfully hard?"

Tech lets out a long and frustrated sigh, meeting your gaze as his shoulders drop in disappointment. "Hilarious," he sarcastically replies, pinching his brow in annoyance.

With a smirk on your lips, you boldly look down at his erection. "It sure seems like you are," you comment, then continue your focus on applying his cast, nearing the end. "You know, sexual pleasure can help ease the pain, and act as a good distraction," you hint, bringing the fact to light. If Tech wants more, then this is his opportunity to take it.

"As delightful as that sounds, penetration would be near impossible in my current state," he gestures to his leg, as if it couldn't be any more obvious.

"There are things that you can do besides penetration, Tech."

Whilst watching you apply the final layer, Tech moves a hand up, fingertips meeting his chin. His brows are furrowed, a sign that he's in deep thought. "You are correct," he hums, before crossing his arms across his chest. "Although I have to question if partaking in such an act will adjust our friendship, and our status within this squad."

"Only if you want it to," you respond, and begin cleaning up, allowing Tech's new cast to dry. "The way I see it, I'm just helping a friend out."

"Well, when you put it like that…" Tech ponders, shifting into deep thought.

Silence fills the air, and yet, you can practically hear Tech's brain ticking away. He's panning everything together, questioning every minor detail, move, motive. Sure, you are helping him out, but wouldn't this lead to other things? Would either of you catch feelings? Have you already caught feelings?

Tech's eyes flick between the pill bottle, and you. He studies you, letting out a soft hum as you tidy up, putting all your equipment away after washing your hands. "I can feel your gaze on me, Tech," you comment, not bothering to look up from your current task.

"Sorry," Tech exhales. "You do have a valid point. This… sexual favour would indeed assist in relieving my pain, yet I cannot accept such a gesture without reciprocating it."

"Let's say that you owe me one, and I can redeem it whenever I see fit," you suggest. You perch yourself on the edge of the medical bed, your form resting against Tech's undamaged thigh. Gently, you tap your fingertips on his cast, testing to see if the material has dried through. "You're all set. So, what do you say?" you offer with a raised brow.

Tech firmly shakes his head in agreement, "I accept your assistance."

"Great," you purr. Your hand comes to rest on his chest, instantly making the man beneath your palm nervous, and he doesn't bother to hide it. "But what do you want me to do, Tech?" you ask, drumming your fingertips against him.

Licking his lips, Tech's eyes wander down to where your hand is resting, before coming up to meet your alluring gaze. "Perhaps you… could possibly…"

"Spit it out," you tut.

"Just… touch me," Tech finally manages to spit his demands out, all whilst looking like he's about to faint. "Your hand alone will be more than suffice," he adds in an apologetic tone, as if he's embarrassed about what has just slipped from his lips.

Eager to see him burst, you ask, "do you want my mouth too?"

"Oh stars."

Tech, the most calm, calculated, and captivating man that you've ever met, is currently turning into putty beneath your fingertips. You've not even touched him, well, at least not in that way, and he looks like he's about to ejaculate at any moment! Maybe it's the pain relief pills that he's taken, or maybe it's because he has a secret crush on you. The answer, you'll never know. All you can do is work with what you've got - a whimpering mess of a man.

"You don't have to answer that yet. Let's just start with my hand," you answer for him. Tech watches through his thick lenses as the hand on his chest begins to trail south, over his lower ribs, across his soft stomach, and now meeting his hips.

Gently, you rest your hand atop of his erection, and Tech just about moans at the minor contact. "I apologise," he sputters, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth.

"Don't apologise, I want you to be vocal," you coo. "Well, maybe keep it down a bit, unless you want the others over-hearing?"

Tech shakes his head, then returns his eyes to watching the action. Your strokes are gentle, yet firm, the complete opposite of Tech's rising chest. Is he a virgin? Or has it been a while? Either way, you begin matching his pathetic state once his briefs are adjusted, and Tech's cock is finally free.

"Kriff," you whimper, eyeing up Tech in all his glory. Maker, you weren't expecting such a slender man to be packing so much heat! Sure, it looked rather large when hidden behind his briefs, but now it's here, throbbing in your hand.

You begin pumping his length, slow at first, until finding your rhythm. All the while, Tech is a panting mess, his gaze flicking between your expression, and what's happening between his legs. He all about caves when you slowly trail a blob of spit down onto his tip, lubricating his cock as you continue jerking it.

"This is going to be the death of me," Tech pants. His head rolls back to rest on the headboard, whilst his hands come up to hide his face. He groans into his palms, the odd muscle in his body twitching as pleasure washes through him. When Tech finally does remove his hands from his face, his goggles are on a slight tilt, and surprisingly, he doesn't bother fixing them.

"Oh?" you say with a quirked brow. "I can make things much worse."

"Do enlighten me," Tech suggests, gazing at you through half-lidded eyes.

"How about I show you instead?"

All Tech can do is nod eagerly, yet he fails to prepare himself for what's about to come. (Or who's about to come.)

It's an awkward position, but after readjusting yourself to lie on your side, you manage to make do. Tech's eyes widen as you move your mouth closer to his cock, soon introducing your tongue to the tip. He moans your name, followed by a painful wince.

"Stop putting pressure on your thigh," you look up at him, cock in hand. "That defeats the purpose of my assistance."

In hindsight, you should have propped a pillow beneath his ankle, but something was preventing you from thinking rationally!

Tech mumbles a, "sorry," whilst looking at you with pleading eyes. You know what he wants, and who are you to deny it? You continue introducing your tongue to his tip, his shoulders instantly relaxing at the minor contact.

You soon find yourself sucking the tip, your hand working magic on the rest of his shaft. Already, there's an ache in your jaw, and you silently question how you're going to make this fit… No matter, you'll do what you can, and all efforts seem to be highly appreciated by Tech, who is reaching the state of debauchery as every second passes.

Through the chaos of spit and slobber, a tender hand comes out to rest on the back of your head. The other one finds your free hand, and Tech makes an effort to entwining his fingers with yours. You vocalise your appreciation to his gentle gesture by humming, only that causes Tech to stir. The sensation of vibrations running along his cock earns you another series of pathetic whimpers, and you, being the mischievous devil that you are, decide to only make things harder for him.

Slipping his cock from your lips, you continue pumping the shaft whilst your mouth wanders south. You slip one of his balls in your mouth, gently sucking on it. Tech's mind quite literally explodes! The hand on the back of your head grabs a fistful of your hair, although he is careful as to not hurt you. His other hand, however, removes itself from your palm to grip on the edge of the bed, a desperate attempt at steadying himself.

"Easy boy," you coo, before focusing on his other testicle.

"I c-can't…" Tech sputters. "I cannot hold on any longer, please," he whimpers, begging for what?

"Tell me what you need," you instruct.

"T-To finish… inside your mouth, if you'd be s-so kind," Tech blurts out, his thigh muscles twitching with want. So much for helping ease his pain, hm?

Removing your mouth from him, you peer up to meet his gaze. Tech's hair is askew, loose strands hanging forwards against his flushed face. Desperation is clear in his eyes, although it's laced with warmth and admiration. Tech was right, you two aren't just going to be friends after this, and quite honestly, you're fine with that.

"How can I ever deny you?" you flirt, earning a sigh from Tech. That sigh shifts into a moan as you slip your lips over his tip, and work your mouth to its limit.

Your name is on repeat, drifting from Tech's lips like a prayer. In the back of his mind, he's thanking this strange turn of events. If he wasn't in that war chest, then none of this would have happened, and the pain is most definitely worth it.

A few pumps of Tech's shaft, and he loses himself in the warmth of your mouth. Tech has to remove his hand from your hair to bite his knuckles, a poor attempt of silencing his final moans. The Marauder does not have soundproof walls, so you two will need to come up with a story for when you finally decide to enter the medical wing, and regroup with the Batch.

"Thank you," Tech repeats, over and over, panting as if he's just run a marathon. He looks exhausted, yet you're the one doing all the hard work!

After removing your mouth from his tip, you swallow his load, which only causes Tech to fall even deeper into admiration. "How do you feel?" you ask whilst grabbing the glass of water, left forgotten on the workbench besides the medical bed.

"Euphoric," Tech responds without missing a beat. "The pain was worth it," he adds.

"Are you still in pain?" you ask, offering him what's left of the water.

He swiftly responds, "no," before downing the rest. "You seemed to have worked wonders on me," Tech comments.

You let out a soft chuckle, and rise to your feet, eager to get out of the awkward position. After wiping your mouth dry with a towel, you assist in cleaning Tech up, not that he needs it. It's his leg that's fractured, not his cock, but you're too sweet on the poor man. "You need rest," you comment as you tuck his cock away, putting his unit to bed within the confinement of his briefs.

Tech ponders, and only now does he straighten out his wonky goggles. "I have already asked so much of you, but I have one last request."

"Let's hear it?"

"I… require some assistance with getting to my bunk," Tech sheepishly asks, earning a laugh from you.

"Of course I'll help you with that!"

It's quite the task, seeing as Tech has the upper hand when it comes to height, but you manage to help him to his feet, swinging an arm across your neck for extra stability. You turn to leave the medical wing, until something crosses your mind. Gesturing to the pain relief pills, you state, "you'll probably be needing these."

A smug grin creeps over Tech's lips. "Oh, I don't think I will," he flirts. This time, you're the one blushing, yet you agree with his statement.

Hobbling down the Marauder, Tech's cabin soon comes to your reach, and before you know it, you're helping him into bed. Thank the Maker that the others have retired for the night, hopefully none of them heard that!

After removing Tech's shirt, a pillow is placed under his ankle, providing extra comfort throughout the night. You retrieve him a glass of water, re-entering his cabin to see that he's tucked himself under the covers, his goggles lying on the bedside table.

"Do you need anything else?" you offer, soon expecting to be in your own bunk. It has been a long day, and you're oh-so-eager for your own rest.

"Actually, I was thinking…" Tech trails off, which causes you to raise your brow. "Surely you should spend the night here with me? You know, in case I require support throughout the night-"

"-I know what you're hinting at, Tech," you say with a light laugh, shaking your head at him. "You don't need an excuse, but sure, we can use that when the others ask why I'm leaving your cabin tomorrow morning."

Tech chuckles, watching eagerly as you strip down into your underwear, soon joining him in bed. You're greeted by his stretched out arm, offering you a cuddle, which you gladly accept, all whilst keeping his injury in mind.

"Goodnight, Tech," you exhale, resting your hand on his chest as your head finds its place within the curve of his neck.

"Goodnight," Tech repeats, holding you tightly.

"And remember, I owe you…"

[annwayne]

TBB Walks in on You

How would the Bad Batch react if they walked in on you masturbating? Perhaps, even, right at your climax? I had some thots the other night when I couldn't sleep, and well. They produced this.

18+ spice incoming, established relationships, kind of a domestic vibe, but still in universe, pre-order 66, gender neutral reader but mentions of a vibrator, one mention of loss.

As usual, if you enjoy please let me know! Reblogs, likes, and replies are welcome!

Wrecker

I'll admit, Wrecker isn't my typical type. He's got his charm and I understand why someone would like him the most, he just doesn't always come to mind when I'm thinking of smutty ideas.

But this is an exception to that norm. This time, Wrecker was the first batcher I imagined because of a very specific image.

I'm a bit of a sucker for a size difference, so Wrecker holding you in his lap- ooh we'll get there.

He may be a bit of a goof at times, but he's clearly attentive.

So as he approaches the door I think he'll notice something is different.

He'll step in quietly and wait by the door, wait for you to finish.

Wrecker wouldn't want to interrupt your fun, after all.

So once you've come down from your high, he'll make himself known as he slides into the bed with you.

He'll wrap his arms around you, pull you up into his lap, and with a grin ask you if you had a good time.

He'll check if you need anything, water, a snack... Him?

Of course, the little bit he saw he enjoyed, and while sitting on his lap you can feel his still-hard boner, rubbing against your ass as he's holding your thighs, running a hand up your waist, feeling your warmer than usual body.

I think he’d be very happy to help you if you wanna go another round.

But he also won’t push.

Sometimes the sexy beast that is you needs a good romp all alone.

Wrecker certified gentleman.

(But he really, really wants to show you just how attractive you are to him.)

Echo

Echo. I know a good bit of fandom sees him as shy.

But honestly, I think a guy like Echo would be very confident. Maybe not a suave kind of confidence, but well, blunt.

Unlike the rest of the batch, he's lost a lot of people in his life.

So when it comes to matters involving you, the person he loves, he's direct.

Which means upon finding the rest of the flat/ship/whatever empty, he'll head to the bedroom the two of you share, only to notice there's no light coming out from under the door.

In an attempt to not wake you, he'll creep into the room, only to notice you're not napping.

No, the sounds you're making and the way you're wiggling under the covers, that's not napping.

He's instantly enticed, instantly happy to see you like this.

With a bit of a mischievous grin, he sneaks into the room.

Listening to you, watching you, until he's at your bedside.

And then he'll announce his presence by making a dumb joke about vibrators and his scomp- you know the idea's come to mind at least once.

Of course, he's standing at your bedside, so once you open your eyes, you get a good view of the tent at his crotch that you caused.

Hunter

Hunter is a dumbass.

And because he’s a dumbass, he’s a blushing mess the minute he steps into your flat.

He can smell and hear your restrained little grunts and the buzzing of a toy. (Or slick, if you’re using a non-electric kind of toy)

It's a bit overwhelming, one might say.

So I think, Hunter's the kind of guy to wait outside the room till you come out, all come haze and the smell lingering on you.

At first you think he didn't notice.

But no, of course he'd notice. You're well aware of his advanced senses.

So maybe he's just... not going to say anything?

He won't, at least, not right away.

See, by the time you come out he’s lost his blush and has calmed down. So he’ll wait.

Until you’re having dinner or watching some vids, doing something so plain and normal.

When you've forgotten about the whole thing, and then what he’ll do, he’ll make sure he’s behind you, pull you into him, and whisper in your ear exactly what you were doing.

He’ll guess what you were thinking about or looking at, and all the while talk in an incredibly level, but husky, voice.

Obviously you can feel his boner growing against you.

Tech

Tech. Oh Tech. He’ll walk in, assess the situation, and in his matter of fact voice say, “Oh, you are pleasuring yourself. ..Shall I leave?” (The shall I leave is less matter of a fact 😌)

He knows what he wants. But he’s asking what you want.

Since he kind of interrupted your orgasm, you're left feeling unfinished.

(It is kind of jarring hearing a voice suddenly if you’re not expecting it, especially while so venerable like that)

So maybe you invite him to stay

But no interfering.

It's like a game.

So he'll sit, eyes glued to you, and ask if he can masturbate along with you.

I’m not sure about you, but I just might say no to make him squirm a little. 

But whatever you answer, he’ll follow along with.

I like to think Tech compliments you anytime he thinks of one.

In the moment he’ll tell you how beautiful you look with a post cum shine.

How sexy it is that you keep going, even after coming.

How cute your sounds are. 

Once you’re satisfied and go over to him, he’s got a lustful look in his eyes, a glaze.

He’ll ask how it was, make sure you had fun, and give you praise for taking care of yourself while he’s gone.

Then, later, he'll make sure to make a move in this game of yours, when you least expect it.

Crosshair

Crosshair my beloved, my darling, my snarky sniper.

Oh, he’s a smug ass, seeing you squirm and moan into your pillows just as he steps into the room.

He’s quiet and sneaks up on you.

Only after you open your eyes you notice him, looking down at you with that entertained little smirk and a tent in his blacks.

“Couldn’t wait another hour?” He’ll tease, saying what a needy thing you are.

Cross can be a bit of a bully…

and you just gave him his ammo.

He’ll lean down, hovering just above you, and stroke your hair. Put out of place locks behind your ear, out of the way of your face.

And then, in that rough voice of his, he’ll say “I didn’t know you were into that.”

The fucker saw your tablet screen.

And no way in hell was he going to forget the depravity he saw on it.

Lucky for you, his teasing is just that.

You might deny or go quiet or act proud, however you react, he loves it.

Loves when you’re shy, loves when you’re playing dumb, loves when you give him attitude. So many side of you, and he loves them all.

From there he’ll laugh, slide into bed atop of you and give you light kisses along your neck, saying that now you two had something new to try out in the bedroom.

If you’re interested that is.

[ghostofskywalker]

hellooo! i'm really excited about your winter ficlets and wanted to request something!

what about “I don’t think either of us are qualified for this, but sure, go for it” with tech? i'm really wondering what he wouldn't be qualified for. 🤭 and i don't mind about the reader's pronouns, you can write what you're up to!

hello! this was such an interesting and fun prompt for him, i hope you enjoy my interpretation!

words: 840

summary: omega's in a bad mood, and neither you nor your boyfriend know what to do about it.

note: the mechanics of this fic rely on the idea that when they're on Ord Mantell, the batch rent an apartment so that they're not on the ship all the time.

Not Qualified

clone troopers masterlist || request a winter ficlet

The sound of Omega’s door slamming shut echoed throughout the tiny apartment, and you could have sworn you heard some of the plates in the cabinet rattle. Not sure what to do, you looked at Tech. “Any idea what that’s about?”

Looking as confused as you felt, he shook his head. “I understand that Omega may be worried that Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo haven’t returned by now, but this behavior is far from normal for her.”

“Do you want to check on her and make sure everything is okay?”

He looked at you like you had just suggested that he wrestle a gundark with his bare hands. “What?”

“Someone should check on Omega,” you said, a confused look on your face. “She clearly needs to talk to someone right now.”

“What about you?”

Your eyes widened. “I don’t know how qualified I am for something like this. Usually bounty hunters can just kill their problems, and that’s definitely not what needs to happen here. Besides, you’re her brother.”

“Look, I don’t think either of us are qualified for this,” Tech said. “But we should still go for it.”

As you looked at his face, you could see a glimpse of something in his eyes that you didn’t quite recognize at first, until it came to you. Tech was nervous. It made sense of course, because Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo had embraced their newfound role of “big brother” a little easier than he did, because he had always been a little bit less social than the rest of the crew. Hells, it had taken you what felt like forever to finally get him to realize that you liked him, and the relationship you had with him was still just barely out of the friend zone. You knew it had to be nerve-wracking right now, to be the only one of his brothers here and having a issue that can’t necessarily be solved with cold hard facts, and you reached out to take his hand. “Come on, let’s go together.”

A gruff “come in” sounded through the door moments after you knocked, and the door opened to reveal Omega laying face down on her bed, with the plush Aiwha you had gotten for her at a market laying haphazardly on the floor (which was likely launched into the air from the momentum of her throwing herself on the bed).

You were definitely not prepared for this, but it would be much worse to just turn around and leave, so you took a few steps into the room. “I can tell that something is bothering you honey,” you said gently. “Do you want to talk about it? It may make you feel better.”

She pulled her body upwards off the bed, and you could see the way her eyes shined with tears. “When is everyone else going to come back?” she asked, and your heart broke.

Growing up where she did and being watched over exclusively by Kaminoans clearly affected her, and now that she had found something of a family it had to be hard to watch some of them leave. Even if it was simply for a mission, part of the team leaving meant that she still had to spend more time without the people she cared so deeply about. “I don’t know,” you admitted softly. “But they won’t be gone forever, I know that.”

Tech looked like he was going to open his mouth to say something, but you shot him a quick glare. Yes, you knew that every mission meant the chance of serious injury or death, and Omega probably knew that too, but technicalities were not what she needed to hear right now.

Thankfully, he seemed to get the message. “Yes, Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker will be back as soon as they can,” Tech said, and you watched as Omega ran over to him. He definitely looked a little shocked as his sister threw her arms around him, and you could see the way he looked to you for help. You mimed wrapping your arms around something to give him a little hint of what to do in this moment, and he nodded quickly.

You watched as Tech followed your hint, and you could see Omega’s tears start to stop. You knew that her heartbreak wasn’t something that could be fixed right away (or maybe at all), but with some time (and maybe a little bit of ice cream), you might be able to help make this a little less difficult for her.

It was impossible to ignore the smile that crept over your face at the sight of Omega clutching onto Tech like he was going to disappear, simply because he looked really surprised when it first happened. You had a feeling though, that he would be settling into his newfound role as big brother a little easier from now on.

And maybe, later you would get to gleefully inform him that he was wrong about neither of you being qualified to help in this particular situation.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[bluehourbucky]

cookies

pairing: steven grant x reader

summary: steven helped you move into your new apartment you want to thank him with some homemade cookies

a/n: I got such a soft spot for steven he's the sweetest most cutest person ever

[dont know why everything is lower case sorry abt that i was already too far in to change it when i noticed]

| main | bucky | moonkinght |

________________________________________

you've been wanting to do something for your neighbour since you moved in since he had helped you carry your furniture into your apartment.

not only did he help with moving in he also went out of his way and asked if you need help with rearranging furniture or building something, you declined politely. it didn't help that steven on top being kind is also incredibly handsome and you had immediately developed a crush on him.

however you hadn't managed to say thank you yet.

you didn't know how to say thank you but you thought a batch of cookies wouldn't be a bad idea.

and a good idea it was, in case you had sugar which you didn't.

so you shamefully walk across the hall and ring stevens door, he's the only neighbour you actually met enough times to ask for stuff.

"hello!" you say when steven opens the door, he looks even more handsome since the last time you saw him. to be fair you've never seen him in his at home clothes and it's absolutely a breathtaking sight.

"'ello?. you alright?" it takes everything in you not to literally run back to your apartment.

"yeah yeah. great. so uh you have any sugar I promise to give it back?"

"sure, come on in, don't stand in the hallway, just gotta find it." steven curses himself for inviting you in as his house is a mess and he legitimately has shackles attached to his bed.

you awkwardly walk inside and only take two steps then you stop not wanting to overstep.

"oh you have a fish." its the first thing that comes to mind to fill in the silence.

"yeah that's gus. gus say hello to our guest." steven says and your heart does a little flip.

"oh so rude of me hello stevens roommate." steven let's out a laugh which makes you blush.

"here,love." steven gives you sugar and you blush even more, you assume the nickname was accidental but doesn't mean your heart knows the difference.

"thank you. bye." you quickly leave and almost stumble.

steven curses himself, he didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, the word just slipped without him thinking. he's had a crush on you since he saw you the day you moved in and now you probably think he's creepy.

after getting into your flat, you immediately start making the cookies. you really hope steven likes them you put a lot of effort into them.

you stand a few minutes in front of his door like a weirdo until you get the courage to knock again.

"hi! It's me again. here some cookies for you. I just wanted to thank you for helping me move in and for being so kind to me. okay bye." you push the cookies into steven's and try to leave but steven grabs your hand.

"wait. what if we ate them together? that's of course if you want to. and you really didn't have to I helped because I wanted to." steven still holds your hand and waits for your reply.

it's not like you're going to miss this opportunity and not with the way he's looking at you.

"sure."

you take the time to look around and really take in the sight of his apartment, the books, the aquarium - it's just so steven.

"please, feel comfortable. thank you so much for making this for me. i'm sure it took bit of your time."

"i wanted to, I hope you like them." you expectantly look at at steven while he takes his first bite.

"so?"

"best cookies I ever had." steven says and you blush.

" im sure that's not true." you shyly say.

"sure are."

at some point you and steven sit on the couch and talk, he tells you about his work at the museum some fun things you can see there and offered to give you a tour when he's not working.

somehow the time flies and suddenly it's 2am and when you see the time you jump from the couch.

"oh im so sorry for keeping you up so late! i should go."

"I didn't notice how much time passed I'm sorry for keeping you. I been rambling a lot." steven scraches the back of his neck awkwardly, and he really hadn't noticed the time he was really just enjoying his time with you.

"i guess I'll hold you to your promise for the special tour of the museum?" you smile at steven.

"of course."

the last thing steven remembers is you going to the door and now he's suddenly kissing you?

as you were about to leave steven pulls you in for a kiss, at first you're shocked, but it takes you just few seconds to return it. it starts off rough but suddenly it melts and softens as if you're kissing another person.

at first stevens hands are on your hips but as the kiss softened they are suddenly on you cheeks.

when you finally pull away you feel like you're as red as a tomato.

"sorry." steven mutters out an apology.

"its okay. that was nice." you can see that his shoulders relaxed at your words.

"uh the tour could we turn that into a date?"

"i'd love that. good night steven."

you kiss him quickly again and leave.

"good night" steven whispers to himself.

____________________________________

"you helped the worm. it is amusing." khonshu laughs.

"it was impossible to watch that. besides he just needed a little push it was going well." marc replies and puts on the suit going off into the night.

_____________________________________

[the end]

likes comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

[zaidthefeederist]

Giving in to gluttony : A fit to fat story (part 1)

We were both at the gym after work just like most days. This is where we first met. I saw you on the squat rack and was enamored by your beauty (and the perfect ass you had definitely helped). I approached you and we went on a date and had been dating since then. Though we both were fitness freaks (i still am) there's a part of me i haven't told you about. A part of me that would rather have you tied up in my bed sporting a fat belly so big it hangs to your knees. I've kept it in check for as long as i can, you had only gained 10 pounds in our 4 months together and a lot of that has been muscle definition since we started working out. Today however, it all changes. One faithful injury changes everything.

"This….freaking….sucks" I say grumpy as I sit next to you in the car. We just came back from the first aid room. I look at my leg and shake my head "no lifting, no cardio…and no rock climbing for 6 months?!" I cross my arms and sigh "That also means I really have to watch what I eat…else I end up like one of those fat girls at the gym" The other day we had been making jokes about a chubby girl that was struggling to do basic cardio

"god i know baby, its not fair at all. Not having you at the gym is going to make me lose all my motivation, not to mention who else will i make fun of the fatties with" i look to you after we both laugh to ourselves.."dont worry though babe. ill take good care of you, You know i've been making myself a better and better cook. Ill make sure your diet goes exactly according to plan.." i say as i keep my hand on your toned thigh, giving it a rub and feeling ecstatic and the though of having a home bound girlfriend for 6 whole months.

**2 weeks later**

"im so bored" I sigh before taking another cookie that you made me. "Im usually at the gym right now" Another cookie goes into my stomach. I dont seem to notice the little bit of pudge that was pressing on to my waistband when I sat down like this. You had noticed that I did a lot of "boredom eating"…and recently…I had also started snacking when I was stressed or feeling a little down.

"Im done babe!" i yell, having baked another batch of cookies. The last 2 weeks have been heavenly. Turns out when liz is left to her own devices with nothing else to do, she becomes rather peckish. Its nothing insane yet but she'll never say no to a little treat every now and then. With the absence of the gym and with me making sure to always make every meal of hers just a bit more heavy, she's managed to maintain her weight at 140 pounds albeit with a major bonus. If before she was toned and slightly muscular, now shes lost her definition and is even developing a little pudge. I see her belly pressing against her waistband as she snacks on one of the cookies i made her and see it press further and further against the band as she makes the tray of cookies magically disappear.

You always made sure to take the plates away or split it in multiple portions, so I had no idea how much I was actually eating in a day. after finishing the third tray of cookies that day you see I am rubbing my belly…I was getting full and I hadn't even eaten a meal! "My tummy is a bit upset" I say as I rub it. "better drink something" I grab the glass of soda that you had brought me. I drink all of it in one go. "I can't believe this is actually sugar free" I say surprised "it tastes like one of those cheap soda's that is super b-BRUUAUUAUAAAAAAAAAP-ad " I look wide eyed and cover my mouth with a blush "s-sorry!"

"Haha that was pretty cool!" i say immediately so as to not make you think i dislike it. I cant let you know that youve given me a hard on with that deep nasty belch, at least not yet. "I don't mind babe" i say as i nuzzle in right next to you on the bed. "in fact if anything it lets me know you really enjoyed whatever i made for you so no need to apologize." i say as i keep my hand on your bloated stuffed belly, giving it a good rub. "I guess you reallly loved those cookies huh, hehe"

"I-I do" I say blushing as you rub my belly…it felt good, but it also made me a bit aware of the fact that I was softer now. "I mean…its just not very lady like to burp like that right?" I smile as you roll your eyes at me "BRUUAAAAP…ooohhff but it does make my tummy feel better"

I moan to myself making sure you don't hear me. "I'm glad you like them" i reply, both to your answer and to that big burp you let out. We spend a few more minutes like this with me rubbing your rounded gut, making you get used to the feeling, making you love my hands on your tummy, making you know i like those un-lady like burps. Im slowly easing your mind into its new state. The state of pure gluttony. Before i get up from bed i decide to try one more thing, i grab your belly and give it a hard pinch and lean up next to your ear "You were a good girl today, keep eating like this and soon you'll be like those fatties at the gym". I whispered it and said it in a teasing tone, but i could tell by your breathing…it did its job. My eyes go wide and my face goes dark red. Did he really just say that?…Is he making a joke?…why do I like him teasing and humiliating me?! I look down and my heart beats even faster, judging by the bulge in your pants…you really liked seeing me like this. "w-what?….a-are you trying to make me fat?" I ask in a soft voice. You just smile, gently kiss my belly before squeezing it again and leave with the empty plates…Am I really going to get fat?

[pizza-writes]

Not Your Finch

A Bad Batch one shot

Part one | two | three

Pairing: none--this one's a platonic JediChild!Reader and the Boys

Summary: You are an unmodified clone, but not of Jango Fett.  This makes you very valuable.  As you escape Kamino, things get interesting, and you get to meet a crew of defective clones on the run from the Empire.

Warnings: None in this part. There will be some more serious ones in future parts though.

Notes: I know it may be a bit odd to read from a kid's perspective, but this was a whole lot of fun to write. I think it turned out pretty neat too. Alsoooo I actually did research for this one regarding the location of planets, among other things--be proud of me. This is set between seasons one and two, but it doesn't really contain spoilers I think. Idk I haven't written the final part, so I guess we'll see.

Rating: 14+

Word Count: 1.8k

You stirred with a gasp, cold air slithering up your arm until you stuffed it back into your blanket. If the rough, thin fabric could be considered that. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the brightness of the room and you begged the universe to let you sleep for an hour longer, but the ever-moving essence that dwelled in all beings had other plans for you.

The door hissed open and a clone's shiny boots marched in. They halted ten paces from your bed just like they had done every morning for the last year. Before the Empire, you'd never dreaded mornings so much.

"Good morning, Y/N. You need to—"

"Be ready in five." You finished his morning call before he could. "Thanks, Finch."

The trooper stood there stiffly for a moment before he pivoted and exited the room to stand outside your door.

With a sigh, you pushed away the covers and your tooka doll, then summoned the will to get up and dressed. It took four minutes to be completely ready today so you stood by the door to tidy your bed. When you were born, you had been gifted with some sort of sense about the galaxy that you weren't sure other people had. You could move things with your mind, and though you kept it a secret, in times of quiet like this, you took a moment to practice fine skills. Perhaps one day that would come in handy.

The door opened and you dropped your plush, praying Finch didn't see it. Then again, you knew he didn't. He had tunnel vision—you were convinced. When the Empire took over, his personality was destroyed alongside the Republic. Among the lost were your privileges. You couldn't even go to the restroom without an escort. As you followed your lead through the halls each morning, you eyed the clones. It seemed that every one of them had become as numb as Finch. It used to be exciting to watch them go along, messing around, sometimes even pranking each other as they went. You had even befriended a few. Now they were like droids. Some days you wondered if you had only dreamt of that.

Your guide took a turn and you nearly missed it. You stopped suddenly, staring at him with wide eyes. This wasn't the route you normally took in the morning. In fact, you didn't even recognize the hall he was going down. He paused and turned to look back at you.

"Keep up, tiny."

Those jabs were a new addition after the Empire as well, and they each stung. Of course, one might think you were dramatic, but it was all in his tone of voice. You remembered a time when Finch was your friend, and he never called you names. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

Fumbling, you turned to follow him, moving your small legs quickly to catch up. You didn't miss his subtle hand as it graced his blaster. That was when that gift of yours kicked in. Something felt even more off about him than usual. He was colder today, but something in his mind screamed in fear. Had he been ordered to do something against his will?

He opened the door to a room you'd never seen before and ushered you in. You stopped short of it, eyes darting around the room. They paused on the different durasteel drawers in the wall. There were several tables in there, a few of which had something large under a white blanket. One of them wasn't completely covered—showing the face of a Togruta Woman. It was lifeless. Your blood ran cold. This was a morgue.

"Finch, what are we doing here?"

"Prime Minister said you need to identify someone."

His aura was covered in deceit. You frowned up at him, picking at his mind with your gift. He was hiding something evil.

He suddenly reached for your back and shoved you into the room, "Get in there—"

With a gasp, you caught yourself before the floor could even touch your hands, hovering for a moment. You turned to Finch, hands trembling as you dropped to the ground. His blaster was aimed at you. His was shaky grip and you felt the apprehension in his heart. You reached for his mind, begging to set him free. This was not your Finch.

"You don't actually want to hurt me!" You cried.

His blaster dropped an inch, bucket on his head tilting slightly. After a hesitation, he mumbled, "I... don't actually want to hurt you."

"I knew it! And you want me to be free from all of this? You don't like making me go to all of those tests!"

"I want you to be free from all of this. I don't like making you go to all of those tests." His blaster fell and he holstered it.

Curious, you tried another phrase: "And... you want to escort me to a shuttle and take me off Kamino."

"I'm going to escort you to a shuttle and take you off Kamino," he nodded to himself. Then he motioned to the door saying, "Let's get a move on, kid."

You followed directly behind him. Every step shot more terror into your bones. You passed a conscription officer, eyes low lest he see through your façade. A squad of troops marched by but none of their helmets turned to look at you. You weren't sure if it was luck or not. How could they not feel the anxiety radiating from your soul? You bumped into Finch as he paused to let someone cross the hall. His helmet tilted to look down at you, light red helmet markings flashing your way. Shaking your head, you pushed onward.

The hangar was in view now. All you had to do was follow Finch for the rest of the way. Your pace quickened and he looked at you again.

"We need to hurry," you muttered, eyeing him.

"Trooper!"

You both kept walking, hoping the voice was after someone else. The man called again. This time he used Finch's CT number. You glanced over your shoulder to see a group of three troopers coming at you with urgency. Your blood spiked the way it did whenever danger was near and you grabbed Finch's arm, telling him to, "run!"

"No," he replied, standing firm. Tears came to your eyes. He couldn't turn on you now!

"Finch—"

He turned, holding your small hand in his huge one. You were forced to stand still. "What seems to be the matter, boys?"

"We were ordered to retrieve the child. Where are you going?"

"I figured it would be easier to get rid of... evidence—out in space,"

"Evidence?" You breathed.

"Can it, Scrappy."

He hadn't called you that nickname since before the Empire...

The leading clone nodded. "You've got a point there. But didn't he want to study the specimen?"

"He gave me different orders, I think. He says it's too risky to leave one of them alive even if it does serve Lord Vader's purpose." Finch squeezed your hand as if to reassure you and it sent your mind spiraling. Whose side was he on? "This one didn't receive training early enough. She's dangerous."

"Are you positive? This is a valuable asset. It could be used to stop the rebellion."

Finch shook his head. "I'm not going against Tarkin's orders. I'm sorry. Even if it seems illogical. Good soldiers follow orders."

"Good soldiers follow orders," the trooper echoed, head dipping slightly. "Well, I'll take you the rest of the way. You two, return to your duties."

"Sir," they replied, then took back down the hallway.

The walk was chilled with awkward silence. Your limbs were stiff—hand still hidden in Finch's. It gave you no peace to know that this clone was in control of you. His soul was still conflicted and you didn't sense strong lies when he said he'd dispose of you in space. But if all of that was a part of his plan... why did he use the nickname he hadn't called you in so long?

"Alright, this bus should be warmed up for takeoff." You looked up and suddenly you were standing before a shuttle with your nameless escort saluting Finch. "Follow standard procedure and keep it safe. I'll see you in a few."

"See you later," Finch replied cooly.

You followed him up into the small craft and wrenched your hand from his. He held both hands up in surrender and made his way to the pilot's seat, quickly getting the shuttle out of the bay. While he was occupied, you located the spare weapons compartment and grabbed a blaster. You didn't know how to use it, but you were sure it would be easy. You watched as Finch checked the systems and made sure everything was working properly before turning back to you. Your eyes caught the sky behind him as it grew darker with the approaching expanse of space.

"Whoa there, Scrappy." Finch crouched in front of you. "Set it down."

Frowning, you aimed the blaster at him. "You told him you'd kill me."

"Well, something you'll learn as you grow up is that sometimes adults lie." He removed his helmet and set it on the ground. You eyed a fresh scar on his right temple.

"So you really do want to set me free?"

He paused, looked down at his hands, and then back at you. "Something like that."

"What does that mean?"

"Whoa, whoa! I'm sorry, Scrappy. No need to point that thing at me. I only meant that it's hard to be free when you're on the run."

"Oh," you muttered. "So where are we going?"

"We're going to meet up with some friends of mine,"

"Where did you meet them?"

"The holonet," he said.

"The holonet?"

He let out an easy chuckle and stood, ushering you to the cockpit with a tilt of his head. "I contacted them about you and they said they'd love to take care of you until you're able to be out on your own."

"Oh," you nodded, conscious of the heavy blaster in your hand.

You ambled to the front of the ship where Finch sat down. Curious, you sat in the seat next to his. The controls in front of you were vast and confusing.  There was a holo device on the dash, but you didn't recognize much else.  You frowned at the buttons, trying to get a grip for the system. The blaster in your lap, you spoke up.

"Why are there controls over here?"

"They're there in case the pilot is too busy with something else," he explained, tapping the steering column for effect, "or if the pilot is hurt." Then he shrugged, folding his hands behind his head while his gaze drifted to the flitting stars. "Really, you don't need two pilots, but it's better if you have extra in a shuttle like this one. Once she hits hyperspace, there's not much of a reason to have anyone behind the controls except to check the gauges."

You nodded, "Are we in hyperspace?"

"Sure are."

"That's why the stars look so weird... Where are we going?"

"Well, whoever flew this last neglected to fill the fuel before it was put away. We also don't want the Empire following us so we need to scramble the signal." He glanced down at you. "We're stopping by Scarif."

//~//~//

Part one | two | three

Thank you for reading! Don't forget to comment and reblog to show support for the artists of tumblr!

masterlist

[kinfanfiction]

Bernard x Elf!Reader - Chapter 9 - Goodbye

A/N: The final chapter!!! This has been a lot of fun, this fic brought back a lot of writing motivation for me and I’m so glad you guys seem to like it! I plan to make more fics in the future, whether Bernard related or not. I will make a separate post soon will future ideas I have but Idk if I’m ready to be accepting requests yet for anything outside of Bernard fics, but if I’m gonna continue writing fics for him specifically I’ll definitely need requests. Anyways, enjoy! Sorry it’s really short, I’m just using this last chapter to wrap up the story.

     For the remaining hours of Christmas Eve, you and Bernard stayed up kissing and talking about your feelings. Eventually, you grew tired and began to drift off. Bernard kissed you goodnight as your eyes grew heavy and decided perhaps it was too soon to stay the night, but you pulled him close, making it clear you thought different. He wrapped his arms around you until you fell asleep. Then, he removed the necklace from your neck, setting it on your nightstand so it didn’t hurt you, he wrapped the blanket around the both of you, and then he went back to holding you until he fell asleep too. 

     You woke beside him, as he still slept with his arms around you. Your eyes widened and in your first few seconds of lucidity you struggled to remember the events of the night before. Once you did, you relaxed. You knew this wasn’t going to be easy to get used to. You carefully slipped out of his grasp, getting up and walking to the bathroom to get ready and change into your work clothes. Once you were done with that, you went into the kitchen and made breakfast for the two of you. You made a new batch of oatmeal cookies, and the smell of them baking in the oven woke Bernard up. 

     It took him a moment to remember what had happened too, but as he slowly began taking in the sight of being in your bed with you across the small house in the kitchen, he did. You were still making a couple hot cups of cocoa as he got up, and he wrapped his arms around you from behind, kissing your head. He was so quiet when approaching you that you jumped a little when he touched you. “Oh! Good morning!” You said with a surprised chuckle, turning to face him and giving him a quick kiss before returning to making cocoa. 

     Bernard let go of you, understanding through your body language that you were still processing everything. He had years to think of what a relationship with you would look like, and those ideas had only recently appealed to you and they were already starting to unfold. To him, everything as it was felt long awaited. To you, it was sudden. He knew you’d need space and time to get used to the change in dynamic.

     Soon, the cookies were done and you put two on a plate for each of you, and soon after the cocoa was done and you made two cups. You sat down by the fireplace and quietly ate as you stared into the flames. Bernard sat beside you and was silent for a little while. Over the years, you’d grown comfortable with just sitting silently beside each other. You both thought to yourselves for a while before either one of you spoke. You reveled in the safety you felt around him, he read your every move with ease, he knew you well. To you, that was everything. To be understood thoroughly for who you were, to have all your boundaries respected without even having to voice them. He made it his mission to make you feel comfortable, and you couldn’t be more relieved that this was the case.

Bernard thought about what your next steps could be as a couple. Not that being your best friend and being your partner were extremely different, but he just thought it might be nice to do something that he knew had been on your minds for a while, in spite of you only mentioning it out loud recently.

     “So.. remember when you talked about wanting to go on a vacation?” Bernard finally spoke up, immediately drawing your attention away from the fire. 

     “Mhm?”

     “Why don’t we start it today? When Santa gets back, let’s request time off, a week, maybe 2, and we can just go.”

     “On Christmas day? Isn’t that kind of bad timing since he’s going to go be with his family?”

     “We have always done well in ensuring that the current Santa, and the Santa’s before him have gotten a vacation, I think it’s time he ensures we get ours. We’ll let the younger elves practice taking care of things without us for when we eventually retire.”

     “Hmmm.. I don’t know.. it’s kind of sudden for us to request a vacation don’t you think?”

“I mean, sure, but when have we ever done anything that was spontaneous?”

“When have you ever wanted to do something spontaneous?”

“Well, you know what they say.. love makes you want to be spontaneous!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “That’s not the saying.”

He grinned, “It is now. So, what do you think?”

“I hate to say it, because this is not an organized event- and the version of you I swear I knew a week ago would be furious with you now for that- but I think I’m in.”

“You think?”

“Not I think- I’m in. We definitely need a vacation, and a little bit of spontaneity every now and then can’t hurt.”

“Great! Let’s get our well deserved vacation as our Christmas gift from Santa and pack our bags. We can go anywhere you want. It’ll give us time to process a change in our relationship, and time to see places outside of the North Pole.”

     After breakfast, Bernard went home and changed into his more casual clothes, and then the two of you walked together to the workshop. You had slept in and spent your time getting to work since it was your one official day off, so by the time you got to Santa’s office he had already been back for a couple hours. Charlie was talking to him when you first walked in, but when he saw you two he quickly stopped.

     “Santa, I don’t often have requests, and I especially never request anything on Christmas, but I have one to make today.”

     Santa looked confused, and gestured for him to go on with his request.

     “Y/n and I would like to take a vacation. In the 800 years we’ve worked here, and the 1600 years we’ve both been alive, we’ve never taken a vacation and we’ve never left the North Pole. All other elves our age have retired by now, and we haven’t even waded in the waters of the world. I hope that perhaps, as your Christmas gift to us you could... let us take 2 weeks off?” Bernard built a little bit of an argument behind his request, but Santa looked as if he had made up his mind on his answer as soon as he suggested vacation.

     “I mean it’s short notice.. but y’know what? Of course you can! You can take the sleigh if you need. You’re my two hardest working elves, you deserve time off.” He agreed with a smile. You and Bernard both felt a sense of relief wash over you, and you looked at Bernard with a bright smile on your face.

     “Thank you so much, Santa, this means a lot.” You spoke, unable to hide your excitement. 

     You left, but once again Bernard was held back. “Does this mean you finally told her?” Santa asked with a knowing grin.

     “I did, Sir.” He confirmed with an excited nod.

     The two of you packed in your houses, and then you met with your bags. You put your necklace back on, and he packed his teddy bear. You were ecstatic about finally getting to travel. You walked together to borrow Santa’s sleigh and reindeer, putting your bags in the back and taking off. “I can’t believe we’re doing this. Are we stuck on Iceland?” You questioned for clarification.

     “We’re not stuck anywhere, if you want to go to Iceland, we’ll go, if you change your mind halfway there, we’ll change course.” He confirmed with a smile. 

     “This is gonna be incredible, I can’t wait to come back with stories of our adventures to share with the other elves!”

     “I can’t wait to experience a new adventure with you.”

     The two of you couldn’t stop smiling as you flew away from the North Pole. You were so happy to be with him. The comfort he gave you even through all these new circumstances made you feel all the more ready for them. You didn’t know what the next two weeks would look like, or the next 200 years, but you knew you wanted them to be spent with him. 

[zestyaahbutler]

Post some of your Arthur x Amulya headcanons, girl *cracks that whip*

Ack! As you wish homie

ARTHUR AND AMMY HEADCANONS

Amulya never really expected to fall for Arthur. As mentioned in the lore post, she never took Arthur’s incessant flirting seriously at first. It took a couple of tries for her to accept going on a date with him. She originally only thought of their relationship as a short fling on both of their ends.

Arthur did fall for her during their first chat but never thought about marriage till the final week of his trip. It was a last minute decision were he proposed to her in a pretty passionate way. He had taken her out for the entire day, shopping, food, and visiting anything that seemed interesting. That day he only asked that he was able to spoil her to which she finally accepted after pushing back on anything expensive. At the end he told her he wanted to give her that experience every day if it meant he’d have her by his side. Flattered, Ammy said that she loved the date but loved his company even more.

Arthur would ask her if she would like to go with him on his trip back to England to start their life together.

Ammy’s engagement ring was a sapphire ring. A big fancy ring because she’s the jewel of his eye and heart.

Arthur Hellsing is a chronic workaholic. One that looks as if he could never run out of energy till he lays his head down on his desk and is suddenly sleeping like he is about to hibernate for 5 months. Same with in the bed, he sleeps like a log. It’s rare that he lets himself rest. It’s something Ammy had to get used to but she does chastise him about overexerting himself.

Amulya sleeps very differently. She moves a ton in her sleep and wakes up with her hair fluffed up to high ends. Arthur always found it fun to wake to see her with her in the oddest positions, maybe even a limb sticking off the bed. He also definitely loved how her bed head made her look.

She actually pulled strings to take him on surprise vacations to get him away from work. She’d often visit him throughout the day to check on him. It always brightened his day to see her poke her head in. These breaks often lead to Arthur not being available for meetings or consulting over decisions because he became busy doing something else. (Ooh la la )

Arthur prefers drinking Chai tea over any other kind. He became so used to Amulya making it that it became almost routine to drink it. Otherwise he preferred a glass of whiskey/scotch much to his kidneys and her dismay.

Arthur was always very excited to celebrate her birthday. It usually came with a big party, all kinds of food, and likely a big vacation to another country. America, Japan, Brazil, Italy, and Turkey to name some.

Arthur is a big endorser of her fashion sense. He always encouraged her to pick out whatever she felt great in. He is an eccentric man who enjoys having his very happy wife in a funky pair of tights. She’d usually give him a small fashion show if she had gone out shopping when she gets home.

Arthur is little spoon. Big powerful military organization leader loves to be tenderly cuddled by his very short wife.

He also cannot handle spices very well. When Amulya does cook, she’ll usually make two batches, one normal one for herself and the other for Arthur that is very mild.

Despite her being mostly vegetarian, Arthur does eat meat around her. She doesn’t mind of course. Only when he has steak. Then she is side eyeing him. Even more when he teases her to try it.

Amulya put in a couch in Arthur’s office when Integra was a baby. She’d usually take Integra there to spend the day while Arthur worked.

NSFW

Ladies and gentlepeople, you already know their sex life was pretty damn alive. Arthur was very much the same as he was in his youth.

He is on the more vanilla side but still a passionate lover. They’re both very eager to please each other

Arthur has had her put on the female Hellsing uniform for him at least once. Plenty of other costumes too

[joonlaksme]

Thinking

-> Pair: Kim Seokjin x Reader

-> Type: Fluff

-> Genre: gn reader, Boyfriend au

-> Warning: Jin being cute

-> Word Count: 700+

A/N: I was going through the worst writer’s block for months so I figured I have to get something out. I hope this isn’t terrible :’)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seokjin sitting on the dryer machine. He’s having fun, watching you toss clothes in the washing machine. His long legs swing to the beat of the newest batch of clothes that throws itself up and it feels warm against him. You can tell he’s thinking really hard.

He finds himself reaching towards you; arms curling around your hips because he so desperately wants your touch and he doesn’t know why. You laugh and make fun of his sudden clinging but of course you find it cute. The way he snuggles into your shirt to smell your soap and his senses are flooded with you. His legs pull your body close and you feel the warmth of the dryer press on your stomach.

“Mmph…” He hums on you, “Can you…imagine being more?”

You kiss his head and grin a hearty grin. “What do you mean?” And you want to pull the question out of him. Sure, you had some type of idea of what he was implying but every chance you had to tease him, you took it. You can tell he was nervous because he was hiding his face from you.

“You know.” His ears turn red. You attempt to nudge his face off your shoulder but he just whines for you to not let go. He mumbled your name, “Do you want to move in with me?”

If he were any farther away from you, you don’t think you would be able to hear him. You’re glad you do because you smile ear to ear and gingerly comb your fingers through his hair. “Do I? Let’s see…” You say out loud.

You would say yes immediately but you enjoy the way Jin squirms so obviously in anticipation. Maybe this has been on his mind for a while and that’s why he’s so nervous about what you’ll say. Maybe he’s thought about it ever since you had your first kiss after date number two (he was too nervous to kiss you day one. You were just too attractive!).

You raise his chin off your shoulder with little resistance and hold his face in your palms. He pouts cutely and you attempt to kiss it off.

“Of course I want to.”

He lets out the quietest gasp. Without any more words, he holds you tighter as a sign of how ecstatic he is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few weeks are a blur. You had not moved ever since you were nineteen so you never realized how stressful it could be. You pack, organize, and have endless discussions about decoration. You talk about where most of your furniture will go since Jin’s things are bigger and more comfortable than yours anyways.

You discover many things that you never knew you had, lingering under your bed or in the corners of your room. Club clothes that were stuffed in your closet and forgotten about ever since you met your boyfriend.

Then the day arrives. You find yourself kissing Jin against the front door, right where all the neighbors can see. He pulls away, face completely flush and embarrassed. And you turn to the walkway that leads to the living room. You can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment and relief that everything was finally done. You will miss watching him walk around with his hair pulled back with pins and seeing his arms flex when he carried boxes.

As you sat on the living room couch later that evening, you were snuggled with your boyfriend. He watched your favorite show but you were busy looking at prettier things. Your fingers graze down his chest, setting goosebumps there.

He squirms in his position, “Babe, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna end up making you fall.” He laughs.

You laugh along with him because you find it so contagious. You take in the warm color of the lamp in the corner, arm leaning on the soft couch cushion, aware it will make lines on your skin due to its design. The faint smell of Jin’s cologne and the mixed flowers on the coffee table. It hits you that this is where you live now. Although some things here are yours, it’s a different environment that you’ll look forward to seeing every morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All likes, reblogs, and comment feedback are appreciated for stories like this. Friendly reminder that reblogs spread more than likes!

All rights are reserved © Joonlaksme

[deepseacolors]

@spr-ingo May, Day... 3??: Alternator/X-ING

...I'm not great at, uh. Time management. Whoops!

Even though it's late, I still wanted to get this out before the last event day of the last event month. I have a couple other incomplete pieces from earlier days that I might like to polish up and post sometime, but this one is the MOST complete of the batch. (And, at over 3,000 words, it is without contest the longest thing I have EVER written at this point. Fun fact!)

This one is, um. A little strange. After playing the Alone inthe Dark remake, I just got a hankering for a survival/psychological/cosmic horror AU. Emmet was originally going to be the protag of this AU, but isn't it this Ingo's event? He should get the dubious honor of survival horror protag status. I think he wears it pretty well, personally.

Warnings: Some unreliable narrator, memory issues, something approaching a panic attack toward the end. Things lurking in the dark.

While nothing bad really happens in this one, it does very vaguely reference bad things (parental death, familial estrangement) happening in the past. Additionally, it takes a pretty sharp tonal shift about halfway through.

I personally don't think it's all that bad, but if you're not good with spooky stuff, best be cautious.

--

The river sparkles cheerfully in the bright midday sun, and Ingo has half a mind to curse it.

There’s no way he can cross this unaided. Even if Ingo were able to swim, and even if he didn’t already know for certain that some of the—creatures residing in this place could swim like Sharpedo, the river is much too wide. Ingo would exhaust himself before making it halfway.

And he is already much too familiar with the sensation of drowning.

When he gets his brother out of this place and brings him home, Ingo vows that he’ll never step foot near another body of water deeper than a bathtub for as long as he lives.

But for now… Ingo eyes that incongruent tower looming over the trees past the river.

Specifically, he examines the great emblem carved on it’s wall, glittering like gold against bright marble finish.

Digging through his coat pocket, Ingo pulls his brother’s notebook from the leather satchel he procured to try and protect it from the elements. Despite his best efforts, however, the pages are already becoming warped and filthy from the damp conditions and constant handling.

As delicately as he can, Ingo flips through the pages, searching for something he had seen during a previous examination, and… ah, there.

It’s not a perfect replica—Emmet, for all his attention to detail, has apparently never seen fit to hone the delicate hand needed for artistry—but it is close enough that Ingo can tell that this is a sketch of the selfsame sigil that stares at him from atop that bizarre, lopsided structure.

Has Emmet been there? Or has he simply seen this mark elsewhere, and recorded it for future reference?

...Is he there now?

Ingo scans the rest of the page in case there are further clues, but he knows better by now than to get his hopes up. Indeed, the only writing that seems to pertain specifically to that mark is a single word in Emmet’s even writing:

‘Pale’

He stoppers the groan before it can leave his chest, and instead pinches the bridge of his nose.

Inscrutable as always, brother.

(“I took these notes for myself,” Emmet had said once upon a time, years and forever ago. “They do not need more detail. I know what they mean.”

Ingo had draped himself partway over the edge of his bed, putting his head level with his brother’s. Emmet himself had his back propped against the foot of the bed, and leaned back enough to meet his eyes.

They had been nothing more than schoolchildren discussing their studies, not aware of the tragedies looming in their near future, and Ingo had taken flipping through Emmet’s school notes while Emmet played with Litwick.

“I know, Emmet,” Ingo had sighed, allowing Tynamo to gently press against his cheek. The offered comfort was appreciated, even if the uncontrolled static would wind up making his hair stand on end again. “I was simply hoping that your notes might elucidate the subject better than our instructor, is all.”

Emmet took the book from his brother, but didn’t put it away. Instead, he opened it to his notes from the lesson earlier that day and holds it up so they both could see.

“So show me what you do not know,” he said, grinning. “I will help you understand. Because we are--”)

“--a two-car train,” Ingo murmurs.

In the present, Ingo blinks away the memory and shakes his head. Disorienting as they are, he’s starting to get used to these flashbacks. He’s still on the fence as to whether that’s a good thing or not.

(It’s normal to forget portions of your childhood as you age. The way the human brain develops makes it inevitable. This world, bordering dreams and reality, just seem to draw those forgotten things out.

...So why does it still feel like he’s missing too much?)

Exhaling slowly from his nose, he takes a moment to recenter himself. Inscrutable or not, the emblem on that tower is the closest thing he has to a clue at this juncture, and he means to pursue it.

Which means he must reroute until he finds the line that will take him there.

--

The stairs groan and creak ominously with every step downward.

There are no lights in the stairwell; no candles, no lamps, and certainly no light bulbs (though the small boathouse is so old and unmaintained that Ingo doubts any of the wiring would have survived anyhow). The gloom is suffocating; the darkness almost a solid thing, boring down on him.

Ingo is grateful, then, for the lantern he found earlier today. Rusted and damaged it may be, the lilac flame flickering inside the faded bulb remind him that he is not alone here. Even if his trusted Lampent can’t physically follow him through the doorways leading to this world, the pale light she granted still continues to guide him.

Water suddenly trickles down from the ceiling, and he jerks the lantern away from it.

...Still, strong as she is, Lampent can’t keep a damp wick lit. Even in this odd dreamworld, that law of physics remains intact.

They’ve learned that the hard way already.

Bringing the lantern closer to himself, he continues his trek down.

In any other circumstance, Ingo is sure that would not be here. He would have taken one look at the rickety, broken-down stone-and-wood boathouse, with it’s unserviced motorboat and the crooked, oddly-placed basement door, and he surely would have turned around and gone home. It spits in the face of every safety standard he’s ever held himself to.

Nothing in this world is safe. Hostile creatures—neither human nor Pokemon, but something altogether alien—stalk him at every turn. The architecture is incomprehensible and prone to unexpected failure. Every time Ingo feels he can relax, something terrible springs from the shadows, claws aimed for his throat.

But Emmet is here, somewhere. His notes, otherwise sparse or filled with shorthand Ingo cannot understand, are meticulously dated. And they indicate that he has been coming to and from this world for nearly a year.

(Ingo never knew. Emmet never mentioned it. There was never even a hint in the letters he sent, until the one that incited Ingo’s sudden visit.

Did he think Ingo wouldn’t have believed him?)

(Would Ingo have believed him?)

A stair creaks sharply in protest, and he startles so badly that he almost loses balance.

Focus. This is no place to get lost in thoughts.

Any questions he has can be saved for if—for when he finds Emmet and convinces him to leave this wretched place.

And to do that, he needs to get the boat operational.

And for that, he needs gasoline.

Or an oar, at least.

The basement should hold something of use.

--

After five minutes of descent, Ingo decides it might be better to simply try and steer the boat with a large branch or something. He turns around and begins to climb up the way he came.

--

After ten minutes of ascent, Ingo’s lungs start to burn. The stale air here is near-suffocating.

He is not going to reach the top, it seems. Not yet, at any rate.

He tamps down the anxiety bubbling in his chest, turns around, and descends again.

The stairs creak and groan.

--

After an unknown amount of time descending, Ingo’s mind starts to wander.

Whatever could Emmet want in this wretched place? Ingo knows better than to assume that his brother is able to move easily through this world; though he had fewer scrapes and bruises than Ingo surely sports, there were plenty enough the last time they’d met to indicate that Emmet hasn’t exactly been waltzing through unhindered.

But every time Ingo tried reason with him, it was the same:

“Go home, Ingo.”

“Everything will be fine, Ingo.”

“Hurry and go home.”

“I have to do something first. And then I will write you. Okay? So you can leave. I will see you later.”

But even if his memories have faded, rusted away, Ingo can still tell when his brother is lying to him.

Ingo had begged, demanded, pleaded for Emmet to just speak to him. Let him help, if nothing else, so they can go home together.

And Emmet had hesitated, long enough that Ingo started to think that he had finally talked sense into his wayward twin.

But instead he had turned away. “It is better that you do not know,” he had said, so softly that Ingo could barely hear him.

He had looked exhausted, bone-weary. Like he’d lived a thousand lives in the decade they’d been apart.

And that…

(“Sometimes,” Mother’s voice sounds tired, heavy, “not knowing is better.”

He remembers, suddenly, sitting one the large old couch in the drawing room with Mother and Emmet; Ingo cuddled up to her left side, Emmet leaning against her right.

It had been a stormy summer day, the rain splattering loudly against the windows and the wind howling like a thing bereaved, but Ingo paid it little mind. He was simply thrilled that his mother was not only in high enough spirits to entertain them, but had sought them out for play multiple times that week.

Perhaps, he thought, this meant that Mother’s health was improving! She had promised ages ago that she would take him and Emmet on a train to see the countryside someday, but her weak heart kept her housebound anymore. The only time she left the house these days was to see some doctor or another. It must have been very dull for her, but she never complained. At least, never in earshot of the twins.

Looking back on it in the present, Ingo will also recall the way she would furtively glance at the doors and windows and sometimes speak in hushed voices, as if she feared being caught doing something bad and getting reprimanded.

By who, Ingo could not guess. Father had been away on business for much of the month, and was not due to return for another week. Though there was a nurse who stopped by to help Mother with her medicine, it was only for a half-hour during the morning. For much of the day, the three of them and their were alone in the house.

Certainly, it was only the three of them.

There were creaking floorboards and doors that opened by themselves, inexplicable chills and strange whispering noises from just outside the door; but it was just the old house settling. Father said It had been in his family for generations, and thus wear and tear is only natural.

And when one feels eyes watching unseen, or an ice-cold hand gripping one’s shoulder when there was no one else around, well, it was only childish imagination running wild. One must be mature about these things, Ingo.

Certainly.

At Mother’s words, both Ingo and Emmet had frowned.

“… I do not understand, Mother,” Ingo had said. “In what situation would having less knowledge be beneficial? That sounds counterproductive.”

Across Mother’s lap, Emmet nodded emphatically.

From what little he remembers of their childhood, Ingo knows that both he and Emmet had been what one might describe as precocious. No problem can remain unsolved if one used proper application of strategy, and the twins excelled at sussing out and utilizing all knowledge at their disposal for creative problem solving. Though there had been times where Father or their instructors became irritated with where their wits took them, their intelligence had always been highly praised.

It seemed odd for an adult to advocate for less education.

Mother herself seemed to tense for a moment, before plastering on her practiced smile.

“Well…” she said slowly, “sometimes things are—scary. Or sad.” She hesitates, as if struggling to articulate her thoughts. “Or… perhaps, too much. Too—big.”

Her hand combed through Ingo’s hair, working out the tangles, and Ingo almost wanted to stop discussing this. To just quietly agree and move on to talk about better things, like the books he and Emmet got for their birthday, or the Cottonee they had found in the garden earlier that week.

But it sat wrong with Ingo. A look over at Emmet, with his furrowed brow, told him that his twin felt the same.

Mother seemed to realize this. With a sigh, she leaned backward, bringing the twins with her.

“You’re right, Deerling,” she said slowly. “Most of the time, it’s good to study up and be smart about things. But…”

She started scratching lightly at Emmet’s head as she thought, and he relaxed further in her hold.

“… Sometimes, things just aren’t our business,” she settles on. “Sometimes… looking too hard at something will—will make it know you’re there. Looking at it.” She failed to suppress a shudder. “And then it will…” her voice becomes a haunted whisper, “it will start looking at you. And then it won’t ever stop.”

Ingo’s voice wavered in his attempt to match her low tone, “Do you mean… something bad?”

She tightens her hold on the twins. “Something dangerous,” she hissed.

And he didn’t understand. Father had said that Mother sometimes got dreams and reality confused, but she sounded so certain of what she ways saying. More certain than anyone had ever been of anything.

Ingo glanced again over at Emmet. His brother seemed to be thinking very hard.

After another heavy silence, Mother spoke again. “That’s why you need to be careful, okay? Our family… It’s easier for us to—to see dangerous things. And to be seen by them.”

She sat up, tapping her boys cheeks to make sure they are looking at her. Her face was like stone.

“So promise Mama, okay? Promise me that if you—if you see something that feels dangerous and scary,” her hands start to tremble, “promise me that you’ll close your eyes. Don’t look.” She grips their shoulders. “Whatever happens, just walk away and don’t think about it. Okay?”

And her gaze was heavy, and it felt like this was the most important promise he’d ever make to her, so he nodded. “I promise, Mother,” he said, voice barely audible for once.

She nods in approval, and turns her stony gaze to her youngest. “Emmet?”

Emmet hesitated.

She shook his shoulder. “Emmet,” she said, her voice low; and in that moment she was almost scarier than their Uncle’s dragons.

After a few long, tense moments, Emmet looked up at mother.

He said: “But why?”)

----

Ingo misses the next step.

Falls.

He curls up, trying to protect his head and neck with his unoccupied arm. Tries to get his legs under him, tries to break his fall—this stairwell has already gone on endlessly, the longer he falls the more at risk he is of further injury, he can’t—

He hits the water at the bottom with a splash.

For a split second, he panics, only barely able to keep himself from gasping in the stale, stagnant water covering his head. He holds the lantern above him, can’t let her go out, he can’t function in the pitch-black nothing of this pit alone without a light--

And then he pushes himself up, sitting in a soaked heap in a pool of water less than two feet deep.

But why, but why, but why? What could be worse than this? Than not knowing?

Floundering in the dark, with a light that struggles to shine more than a few feet ahead, violence and cruelty biting his heels at all times.

His heart is pounding, beating at his eardrums as he trembles and shakes with force from the ice still rushing through his veins. His arm still stiffly holds the lantern above his head because he cannot risk losing her light to the dirty water surrounding him.

It’s better not to know, they say, but all Ingo wants is to know, why? What did mother see? What does Emmet know?

The still silence of the room he landed in is broken by small splashes of water and ragged gasps that Ingo cannot control.

What makes Emmet so afraid that he cannot bear to even imagine sharing his burden with his own twin? The one who was once his closest friend, his most trusted confidant? What could be so terrible?

What is he missing--?

A dozen steps up the stairway behind him, the stairs groan and creak.

Ingo freezes. Holds his breath. Listens.

Footsteps, so delicate and light that they are almost drowned out by the protesting wood, are getting closer. A fluttering buzz, like an insect’s wings, drift down from the dark.

Those are not the even, measured steps of his brother. They are not the calculated, cautious steps of the detective that accompanied him here.

Ingo stands, slowly, holding his lantern toward the stairs. It rattles with the force of his shaking.

He knows those steps.

He does not know those steps.

But he knows them. He knows them, and he needs to go, to go, to go, before--

Just outside the range of the lantern, a shadow flickers in the stairwell.

And Ingo suddenly believes that, if he stays, if he waits for that entity reach the landing, he can know.

He can know what it was that crushed his mother under it’s weight until she could live with it no longer. He can know what it is that changed his brother so drastically after her death, that wore him down to the thin specter that greeted him in that dismal study just this morning.

But what would it cost?

A small polished shoe breaches the light. The buzzing vibrates against his eardrums.

(He needs to find Emmet. Nothing else matters.)

Ingo stumbles backwards, the water hindering his movement, before turning and running the opposite direction.

He has no way of quantifying the amount of time he spends running other than the burning of his lungs and the weakness of his legs, but some indeterminable time later, he bursts through a door and is immediately blinded by a searing light.

It catches him off guard, and he trips, scraping his hand and knees against wet stones and sand. The lantern clatters against the ground.

He has the presence of mind, still, to reach behind him and slam the door closed. Scooting back until his back is pressed against it, holding it shut, he tries utilize his hearing while his eyes adjust.

Running water. Wind blowing and rustling… leaves?

Ingo blinks his eyes open.

Though he has no memory climbing any stairs in his mad escape, he has somehow made it back to surface level. He is sitting next to the river that started this whole mess.

Across the river from where he sits stands a rickety stone-and-wood boathouse, an unmaintained motor boat tied to it’s dock.

Behind the small shack he rests against, there is a thick and uninviting forest.

And, less than a mile deep into those woods… a marble and gold tower looms over the treeline, bearing a familiar emblem.

… One small blessing, at least: he won’t have to put his faith in that rotted little boat.

Still breathing heavy, Ingo slumps against the door and covers his eyes.

A brief layover. That’s all he needs. Just… a few moments.

Then it will be time to depart once again.

[fruchtfleisch-art]

Something like ‘home sick from work’ or ‘picnic’ could be interesting prompts for the microfics! :)

Three things: (1) my friend Danny has a lovely illustration/microfic of a Kirashino picnic here, please go admire it and the absolutely insane top-down angle it was drawn at.

(2) I apologize for how long this took... I started writing and then immediately got sick myself, which helped me come up with descriptions but really hindered my ability to write them down 😭.

(3) If it wasn't obvious by the slow post rate of these last few prompts, my free time is back to being somewhat limited, so this is the last microfic! Thank you so, so much to everyone who sent a prompt in! I'll definitely run something like this again someday, it was really fun :) This batch will be posted up on AO3 soon, after I rest a bit.

Kirashino microfic #6/6?: Home sick from work

It’s a proven fact: Yoshikage Kira does not take sick days.

That doesn’t mean he’s never been sick, necessarily, but he’s not the type to laze around in bed when he doesn’t feel well. The last time he caught the flu bug circulating in his office, he set a nighttime alarm for his twice-daily dose of fever reducer, wore a mask all week, and stayed out of the break room. His supervisor had praised him for his commitment and excellent work ethic.

“Kawajiri Kosaku”, on the other hand, has called out sick for three days, and is completely fed up with the whole ordeal. It just doesn’t make sense. He’s young, he has a strong immune system, and he takes excellent care of himself. He should be feeling better by now, or at least a bit less like week-old roadkill.

Three days in, and it’s all Kira can do to lie on the Kawajiri’s couch, desperately craving sleep he can’t have. Every time his eyes slide shut and his mind goes quiet, the tight, sharp ache in his throat prods him back to listless wakefulness, forces him to sit up and hack another wad of bloody phlegm into the nearest tissue. It’s miserable work. His chest hurts from coughing.

Time passes in sludgy fits and starts, the dawn light outside growing steadily brighter. The next time he rolls over to cough, it’s agonizingly bright, and Shinobu is standing in the doorway, a shopping bag tucked under her arm. When did she get here?

“Sorry,” she says quietly. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. How are you feeling?”

Instead of leaving, she comes in to tidy up his sick den, picking up trash and empty cups. It’s irritating. The whole point of him staying downstairs is to prevent infecting the one healthy person left in the house. What’s he supposed to do if she gets sick?

“Shinobu,” he tries to say, but his voice breaks with a raspy squeak. He tries again and nothing comes out.

“Hayato is feeling a lot better today,” Shinobu says cheerfully, giving no indication she heard him. “So I’m sure you won’t be far behind.”

Kira doesn’t want to hear about the disease vector she calls her son, doesn’t want to even think about him. The idea of Hayato contaminating him, of his virus squirming its way past his immune system, replicating, clogging his airways with gunk and boiling his brain to fevered mush is…

Another thick, sticky cough bubbles up and forces him forward, tears pricking his eyes as mucus shifts painfully in his chest. Shinobu is there with a pack of tissues when the cough is finally productive, brings a glass of water when he’s done with the tissues.

“That sounds awful, sweetie. Can I help?” She brings her shopping bag over to the couch. A thin blue box emerges from the shopping bag. From the box, like magic, emerges a fresh bottle of SS Bron.

Shinobu! Wonderful woman! His own Florence Nightingale. He didn’t even know they were running low on cough medicine. He watches her measure out a few milliliters of cola-colored syrup into a spoon, the harsh sunlight bouncing off the rim in a blinding white circle.

The light.

“T-” Kira says. Swallows hard, throat working a slimy circuit. Tries again: “Time is it?”

“Almost noon. Why?”

His last dose was at eight o’clock, not even four hours ago. It hasn’t been nearly long enough for him to have another. Didn’t she read the label?

Horrible woman! Is she trying to give him brain damage? Kill him?

He bristles, ready to admonish Shinobu for her carelessness, but the moment he opens his mouth she brings the spoon to his lips. A barely-there sweetness trickles over his tongue.

“Don’t worry about that. You need the rest,” she says, smiling fondly at him. “I’m not keeping you on a schedule, honey. You just work on feeling better.”

That’s not it, not at all! Kira isn’t worried about oversleeping. He’s worried about missing too much work and contagion and how he has, just now, possibly overdosed on codeine. He would happily explain this to her, but his throat is packed with ground glass and forcing out anything louder than a sigh is painful, terribly painful.

Shinobu bends down to kiss his cheek, then places a cool hand on his forehead. He closes his eyes as her fingers push through his sweat-sodden bangs, scratch lightly at his scalp.

It’s humiliating, being petted like a dog, or a… something. That’s it. Humiliating.

He’s too sick to move, though. So, so, sick.

Might as well make himself comfortable.

[purplesurveys]

1764

LONG WEEKEND WOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I don't get to go back to work til next Friday :D :D :D

Have you ever had a pet turtle before?  I've never had a pet turtle nor have I met anyone with one.

Do you still sleep with your parents when you're scared sometimes?  No...I don't remember ever sleeping beside the both of them, actually. Not even as a kid since only my sister and I shared a bed.

Have you ever met someone with two different color eyes?  Technically we never met or spoke with each other but there was one girl in my high school whose irises were different colors.

Have you ever felt like someone was following you?  This has only happened to me once and I promptly sped the fuck off until I got to a much more well-lit area. As dangerous as the city can be I've been pretty fortunate in this regard.

How many surveys on average would you say you've done in your lifetime?  Fewer than I ever thought considering I've been doing these for over a decade, now that you made me think about it. I checked my old survey blog and only got to around 1,400 there, so combining that with how many I've done so far here totals to only a little over 3,000.

What color shirt are you wearing at the moment?  Black.

Do you enjoy going school shopping?  It was fun when I had to do it, but it was never something I had to do often because I used my supplies so sparingly, lol. The only thing I had to restock on regularly was my highlighter set and that's because I liked to highlight on my readings a lot lot lot lot.

Do you think Pug dogs are adorable or just plain ugly?  I have a soft spot for pugs that mainly stems from feelings of guilt and helplessness.

Have you ever met someone who completely resembled their pet?  Uh, I guess not...

Has anyone ever knitted you something before?  Idk if it was knitting or crocheting but Kata's mom made me a face mask before.

What was the worst substance you've spilled on yourself before?  The dogs' piss. When they were younger they would pee on the tray of their crate and I had occasionally spilled a portion of it onto my legs whenever I would carry the trays outside for cleaning.

Have you ever made out with more than one person in one night?  No.

What three words would describe the person you love?  There's no one like that for me.

Do you think their is a soulmate out there for everyone? Not really.

Do you like short or long surveys the best?  Better long than short.

Do you think hairspray is more helpful or annoying?  Idk I only ever use it when going to formal events when I know it would helpful for me.

Have you ever bought fake money and tried to make it pass for real?  No, that's very dumb.

Are your siblings nice the majority of the time?  My sister is, yes. I don't think there's a bad bone in her.

How many uncles do you have?  Where I'm from any older guy that you have some sort of positive relationship with is called an uncle so I'd have lots and lots.

What would you say is the worst movie you've ever seen? I've desperately tried to give The Notebook a chance but just can't.

Do you freak out when a thunderstorm comes along?  Only when they get very loud but otherwise I don't mind them.

What is something you'd consider yourself obsessed with?  Let's go with BTS.

How often do you shower?  It's the first thing I do every morning.

Have you ever had to sell something for a school fundraiser?  Not a school fundraiser but it's tradition in our college org culture to do income-generating projects during the application process – basically you and your batchmates are required to earn a certain amount of money to fund your own initiation rites by the end of the app process. I had to sell crinkles, graham balls, pizza, and a couple of other stuff to help out but it usually ended with me just paying my share because I'm not an entrepreneur by any means haha.

What is the absolute worst thing about high school?  The drama among the batches. We hated each other for no reason at all and it's hilarious to look back on now. Why couldn't we just mind our own business?

How many sodas do you usually drink in one day?  I never drink soda. Nasty fizzy stuff.

What kind of cheese do you like the most?  Anything that doesn't taste like it's rotting.

Have you ever met someone who was completely weird all-around?  Sure.

What is your favorite lyric of all time?  There was a bird who never flew But she still kept all of her feathers So she could pluck 'em out for you And you could wear them in your hair and She'd be with you

Always hits me where it hurts. I've never seen sacrifice described so gut-wrenchingly personally in a song.

Do you know someone who has made their Xbox their best friend basically?  Eh, not really.

Do you ever watch any soap operas?  I don't.

Have you ever met someone who was mean to everyone?  Nope.

If you had to get a tattoo, what would it be?  Seven dots or Kimi's pawprint.

If you have any piercings, who did them?  Idk but I bet it was a professional.

Do you usually have a low tolerance for pain or high tolerance?  Low, for everything.

Do you give into peer pressure easily?  No, especially not at this point in my life.

Have you ever simply looked at someone & could tell they were homosexual?  I'll sometimes say my gaydar is tingling lol but it's always meant jokingly and I don't really think like that about most people.

Would you rather eat or sleep?  Eat.

Are you one of those die hard Twilight or Harry Potter fans?  I've long been obsessed with Twilight but never to the extent of having like Team Edward shirts or posters on my wall, lol.

Have you ever cried while watching a movie trailer? I don't think that's ever happened, no.

When was the last time you changed your hairstyle?  Last June.

Do your parents ever force you to talk to your grandparents?  No. That's sad to think about.

If you were a crayon, what color would you be?  Scarlet. I always liked how strong/pigmented it is; makes it fun to color with.

Do you think long surveys are boring or entertaining?  It would depend on the questions. And how game I am to fill out a survey. This one has decent questions but I'm feeling increasingly lazy by the minute lol, so it's definitely a mix of different factors.

Have you ever learned that someone had lied to you all along?  Sure.

When was the last time you had a physical injury?  April 2022 when I sprained my ankle.

Have you ever wanted to be a lawyer?  Briefly when I was in college. I very nearly went to law school until I slapped some sense into myself with the reality that I'm a big crybaby and wouldn't last a semester.

Have you ever had to bail someone out of jail before?  Nopes. That sounds extremely stressful and I hope I never get in that kind of situation.

Is there anyone in your immediate family who was adopted?  No.

Do you know anyone who doesn't have any common sense? Honestly? Me, sometimes. I have my fair share of ditzy moments lol. When was the last time you bought something?  I got McDonald's delivered last night.

Do you think you look anything like your parents?  I very much look like my mom.

Who is the skinniest person you know? Is it because of a disease?  Someone I used to go to college with; I don't think so.

Do you know someone who insults themselves to get attention?  No, but I can imagine how I could quickly get fed up with someone like that.

Is this year the best one you've had so far?  It's been pretty internally tumultuous I would say, but nooooowhere near being one of the worst. There's just been a lot of maturing and realizing and mulling on my end, which I guess is par for the course when you're entering your mid-20s.

What are your plans for this weekend?  I'll be getting my hair dyed, and I also want to watch a couple of things on Netflix and such given I get six days off. I wanna see a museum but not sure which yet; and I also kind of want to go ice skating as well, hehe. Maybe visit Cubao Expo too? Idk, I want to do a lot of things with this much free time; I hope I do at least one of these things and not end up staying at home the whole time!

What color is your significant other's hair?  I don't have one.

Have you ever applied for a job at Walmart before?  We don't have Walmart here.

Do you know anyone who does drugs currently?  It's definitely possible.

Would you ever become a foster parent?  No.

Are you ashamed of anyone in your family?  Little bit yeah, but I'm not as filled with rage as I used to be. It's a calmer kind of shame/annoyance, lol.

What jobs do your parents have?  They both work in the hospitality industry.

Would rather talk to someone on a landline or a cell phone?  Landline; it's a lot clearer. There's always the threat of asking "Sorry, what was that?" a million times with every phone call and that makes me feel so anxious.

Have you ever had a Tumblr account? Are you devoted to it?  Yup, Tumblr I've always found to be a cozy safe space when it comes to dumping giant brain farts like these surveys. I wouldn't say I'm devoted to this blog per se; all I do in it is do surveys.

Has anyone ever given you a psychiatric assessment?  Yes, I needed to have one done on me as part of my college admissions. Apparently they sensed that I may have had depression or anxiety so I had to go through an extra round of assessment. I didn't want to freak my parents out, so during that bonus round I just pretended I was doing fine to get it over with.

If you got pregnant right now, would you abort the baby?  No; I can't do that here even if I wanted to.

Speaking of which, are you for or against abortion?  I'm pro-choice.

What is your favorite amusement park?  Not a big fan of amusement/theme parks. Too crowded, too hot, and I don't even like rides lol.

What was the best Christmas gift you've ever gotten?  BTS albums from my favorite aunt. Those things are NOT cheap in the slightest so I was extremely surprised she got me two.

Has anyone ever called you jealous of them before?  I can't remember anything like that ever happening.

Did you ever have braces? Yes. I currently have them.

Who is your favorite actor or actress?  I don't really have a favorite actor. As for actresses, I have Kate Winslet, Kristen Stewart, and Emma Thompson.

What is the most important date in your life so far?  The day I found out I passed my university.

How many people your age do you know who are pregnant? I'm not sure. 0, I think? Hahahaha I might be missing someone.

What is cuter: kisses on the forehead of the cheek?  Forehead.

Do you believe in evolution or creation?  Evolution.

Would you rather take a bath or a shower?  Shower.

What group would you say you'd normally fit into the most?  Well, I don't know. What kinds of groups are we talking about?

As a child, what game did you want to play the most?  Grand Theft Auto...we didn't have the most supervised childhood, lol.

Does it bother you when people touch your personal items?  Definitely, especially if done without my permission.

When was the last time you did something sexual?  This morning.

Where was the last place you went on vacation?  Went for a quick weekend trip to Nasugbu last August.

Do you collect anything? What?  K-pop merch.

What kind of Pringles do you like the most?  Original. The other ones I find too salty/rich.

Are you better at hand-drawing things or painting?  I'm terrible at both but I enjoy painting a lot more.

Have either of your parents ever called you a failure before?  My mom would imply it to me before, and I had always made it a point to prove her wrong.

What do you think is the grossest taste in the world?   Pickles.

[orleans-jester]

Claudette + Kuzco + Clopin + Piper

Claudette gets Valentines Day - always. It’s her favorite holiday. It used to be her birthday but then she started feeling old, and not exactly wanting to celebrate that, so Valentine’s Day. Bring on the champagne, which she had a taste for better than Clopin’s love of wine. She would bulk order a bunch of candy hearts - the good, fancy kind that have real flavor and aren’t just chalk - and have personalized messages on them. ‘Kuzpin forever’ ‘Kuzette forever’ And of course there were more dirty ones, instructional ones ‘Kiss me’ ‘Suck me’ ‘Fuck me’ Some had memories on them to make them giggle and reminisce. ‘Disney sux’ ‘Walmart rulez’ ‘Paris, u + me’ ‘Today is the greatest’ All shaved everything, hair extensions, make up to try to soften up the very masculine features, and wearing a little (what else?) purple nightgown. Of course some of these hearts will be for Piper, because no one lets Piper be left out. She’ll get her own box of fancy French chocolates, ordered before they left NZ, and their temp maid picking it up. Lots of serenading from Claudette, dancing, living the best life.

Frank + Delta

Although Frank hasn’t been feeling the best, since apparently Delta has been thinking about a lot of his failures and singing Flotsam’s praises (come on, he’s a jealous guy of course he’s going to catch onto all of that, it’s not going to be great), he still slightly celebrates the big love day. He doesn’t do it in a grand way, he’s not much for that. Not is he going to go all lovey dovey, hearts over everything, romance is in the air, serenading like Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You. This is Frank. Who is having doubts because everything is pointing to Delta doing the same. Especially when being friends with Valerie apparently goes hand in hand with insulting him, she only thinks about one while doing the other? What he will do is he will walk through the chaos to where there are still those lingering outside, the stubborn reporters, the foolish, hopeless people hoping that their loved ones will come out. He picks two. Beckons them in. And then he enjoys the simple act of strangling them with his own hands. That’s something that came out through Delta. He only loved receiving pain. Now he didn’t mind giving it, but he saved the more exquisite, creative pain for those that deserved it. Not these .. things. Carved them up. Took out their hearts. So slippery and slimy and red. He left the corpses to either fester or for the feral animals to eat up. Fresh meat. Using careful stitches that Sally had taught him, he sewed the two hearts together to become one. A meaty surprise. Surround it in resin so that it will last longer than a few hours before the stench becomes too horrible. Preserved now. No ribbon or cards, he’ll just give it to Delta during their dinner, kissing the top of her hand.

GoGo + Scout

Of course Valentine’s Day falls on a school day. And though she’s rather caught up in her mechanics, as per usual, and taking care of these human-like dolls and their vampire owner, the lack of boxing girl has been noticed. Scout didn’t really have to say anything. So as a bit of fun, Go-Go comes into school early and sets up a fan in the back of Scout’s locker, that’s attached to the door, and filled it with Fast and the Furious valentines. So that when Scout goes in to try to get her books, whoosh, the valentines are going to come flying out in the breeze, and scatter all over the hallway.

Oogie Boogie + Spade + Barrel

Quality family time, a big batch of candied hearts - real hearts, of course, dipped in sugars to make it oh so sweet and meaty and chewy and crisp. Rather simple this year, but there’s a lot coming up, Oogie can feel it.

Valentin + Nicolai

Valentin starts off the day with jumping on his cousin’s bed. “ITS MY DAYYYYY!” He says, music playing, lots of dancing. Pretty much acting out the True Faith music video up there. Nicolai is used to this, aims a well timed ick at his knees, making him buckle and fall off the bed. He’s going to be like this for the rest of the day. Handing out roses to people who were still at HTT. Unable to pay attention in class. It’s not even his birthday. It’s just Valentine’s Day. He keeps an eye out for CJ though is unsure if he made it through the craziness. Finishes off the night with Kartoshka and Salted Caramel White Russians.

Elsa

Elsa won’t be saying much when Koda goes. She got her rejection email. She was hardly the type to rebuttle it, no meant no. It was a shame. But he was leaving her with memories. She would move out of the hotel, refusing to take up anymore of the Laveaus money on it, and find herself a small studio to stay in for the time being. Ellie was strong willed, she would be going whether Elsa approved of it or not, there was no point in trying to find a bigger place. She’d just - seem to carry on. Settle in. Visit the Laveaus every once in a while, trying to make a point of doing it once a week, even if just for a short while. She even buys Go-Go’s old bike - a standard bicycle, nothing souped up - to get all the way out there. Where is life going, she does not know. But behind those doors, she feels that loss very deeply. The candles left by Koda stay on her table, with reverence.

Ellie + Babyface

Valentine’s Day probably happening on the road. She’s remembering the one the year before. Working, and then being surprised by him bringing over a Care Bear. It was a really cute gesture. Making out in the pantry. She’d be looking at him and smiling a lot, remembering it, bring it up. She’ll try to surprise him at one of their stops by getting him a couple of gifts. Babyface was such a tough guy, or at least he tried to be, she let him keep up the illusion though she knew the softie beneath, so she started with a unicorn that she’d keep on the dashboard of whatever vehicle they managed to get. It reminded her of the prom that they totally crashed. A couple of giant candy bars. AND some weird teriyaki beef jerky sodas.

Maddy + Bastien + Frankie

It’ll be another Valnetine’s Night inside, since there’s not much in the city now - no going out to get dinner, drinks, see a movie, anything like that. But that’s alright, there’s plenty to do inside. Maddy will put Frankie in a cute little Valentine’s Day outfit to start up that cheer. She wasn’t going Reaper this year, though she still had that outfit hanging in a special place, but she did stic with something pretty and black that was sheer but also hid that belly she was still working on getting rid of, did a bit of make up to try to be more sultry and sexy. Feeding her man right, giving him some dances so maybe he could objectify her a little bit, just a touch, and of course, plenty of love, kissing all over, massaging, pampering him.

[mochikeiji]

Looking Like U Got Me

Request: "Prompt no. 56 and 55 for Gojo ＼(^o^)／"

55. "You look like my husband/wife"

56. "Keep doing that and I'll marry you faster"

↠ Pairing: Gojou Satoru x Reader

↠ Warning: none! Simply fluff

↬ Word Count: 1.7k

↠ a/n: i accidentally mixed up prompts 55 and 57 ;-; but still hoping this turns out good!!

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event!

All he wanted was to wake up in bed, next to you— who would cuddle deeper in his arms even in slumber so he'd smother you with his kisses and tighten his hold around you and drift back to sleep longer, finally free of responsibilities for once and enjoy quality time with his only favorite person. But instead he wakes up with a groan passing through his lips, supporting his back side with his hand while shuffling to his side in a different position as the light sun rays shun through the window blinds, softly fanning his eye and forehead.

Gojo chuckles a bit before wincing. His lower back so tensed that he feels himself get older by the day. Pouting at the empty space next to him, he palms the cold sheet in wonder of where you are. Up so early in the morning when you could've just stayed in for him. How annoying. His eyes shut for moment when the scent coming from outside the room intruded his senses. Ah, you must be cooking breakfast. How sweet of you.

Thank goodness it wasn't another batch of dried crackers or cup of noodles that'll enter his mouth. He was never one to cook meals when he was on solo or when you weren't around. The very thought of not only the meal was awaiting for him outside, but also you excites him that it made him feel tingly inside. Call it dramatic, yeah, but it's not every day someone gets to wake up and immediately feel this full of love in the morning. You were the only and last love he's ever wanted to have in this world. It was so surreal even to him.

Sighing before pushing himself up, Gojo yawns out the remains of drowsiness in his system and stands. He didn't bother wearing a shirt since last night, claiming that he misses how his body rubs off yours in both comforting and suggestive ways. Plus it was just you and him home, he'd rather walk naked than wear the usual long sleeved uniform on a warm day.

The scent of coffee got stronger as he closes in his journey towards the kitchen. There was faint sizzling coming from the pan as you stood there in attendance. Stuck in your own little world, swaying to the sound of the radio playing, U got Me by Yung Heazy. It was one of the few songs that reminded you of Gojo back when you were both high schoolers. The exact song you remembered playing when you both hung out on a small cafe in Tokyo. Where he was so flustered, attempted to hide his blushes with his round glasses. The little things that reminded you of that memory never fails to make your heart race.

Of course Gojo knows this one as well. Because it was on that date as well he had call you, "his" after masking his embarrassment and from obviously checking you out every minute. How could he contain himself? He was a young man who was having trouble in the arts of love. Nevertheless he was glad to have grown up from those years. If his younger self could see him now, he'd be gagging at the sight of a softer version of his older self.

Snaking his arms around your torso carefully to avoid surprising you, he places his chin above your shoulder. Salivating at the sight of thick bacon in deep frying, shamelessly letting you know he was hungry from the sound of his stomach growling. "This is a nice way to greet me." you smile at the man behind you, who had his eyes closed in delight while rubbing his cheek against yours like a cat in need of attention. "Good morning to you as well, sweet cheeks." he says after  pressing a kiss on your skin.

"You got up early." whining softly, his hair and nose tickling the side of your neck and shoulder, "I was hoping to stay longer y'know?" trailing his hands underneath the his shirt you were wearing, mapping out on all the skin he could squish and hold with his large palms. Noticeably pressing himself closer to your body, the much needed space gone but you weren't complaining. After all, this was Gojo, a man who knows no boundaries.

"I wanted to make breakfast for you. We haven't had one together since we're both busy." you say as you grabbed the nearby plate, turning off the stove as the now cooked meal sizzles softly from the pan before sliding down to the porcelain surface. In attempt to lick his lips at the now prepared food, his tongue grazes upon your skin, sending you to jolt a bit, hearing the joyous laughter from him as he places a kiss on the spot as an apology.

"W-why don't you go sit down, there's rice bowls and cooked eggs prepared already." stammering, you quickly excused yourself away from his embrace to clean out the mess from the counter. Gojo sighs out the adoration but obliges to your command. Not long after you had finally settled down in front of him. Seeing him in all smiles as he scarfs down on his food made you smile as well. Thank goodness his blindfold was off, they looked adorable twinkling in happiness.

This felt nice. To have an opportunity to be a normal couple once again. So many times you could only daydream of scenarios like this. He could say the same as now that you were present on the usual spot he'd come home to empty. Often dozing off during meetings thinking of where you were or how you were, the multiple times Megumi has fed up with his whining about how he never gets to see or have more time with you. Nobara even pointed out a fact saying, "You act as if you're both married." and Yuuji, being the happy child of the three had said something that always ponder in his mind, "Why don't you marry each other yet, sensei?"

It was a statement he's been considering for a long time. Marriage. Of course Gojo wanted to marry you after years of torment love. To have his precious students say that you both already looked as if you were married got him all heart racing, and very very happy. He's had vivid images of a life with you. Not far from what it is today, but imagine. Unlimited happiness after so long of fearing it. Perhaps maybe even tiny legs running around, giving him such big love as his grows for the family he's craved, watching you smile beside the doorway and calling them in for a meal.

If marrying you means he can have that every day, then the hell with it.

"You look like my wife."

The spoon drop echoes. Slowly his face erupted into a faint blush while staring back at your widened eyes and opened mouth. "What?" gulping down the stuck food in your throat, Gojo bites his lips watching you maintain your composure. So cute. "Y-you know you say funny stuff when you're out of it. Maybe some daifuku would help? Yeah! Wait a sec." quickly getting up from your seat and rummaging in your fridge, you breathed out the heavy puff of air from your lungs.

He did not just say that so directly towards you. Maybe you were dreaming? You wouldn't be if your heart wasn't practically being forced out. Gojo is always fun and games, right? He doesn't mean that.

Sad to think of it that way.

"Ow!" thumping your head above the fridge as you grabbed some of the take outs of Daifuku you got yesterday, closing the fridge back before returning shortly to Gojo, who seemed as out of it as you were. "You did say your brain functions best when you eat sweets. Luckily for you I bought these yesterday. That's why I cooked earlier now because I wanted to try it out with you!"

Gojo can't tell if he wants to be offended at the fact that you think he was joking or just now, cover his half of his face to hide his laughter and igniting squeals. God he wished he had his phone right now, the moment was just so priceless and precious as you were.

"...ter"

Muffles from behind his hand was heard. Tilting your head to the side, trying to process what he said but no avail. "What was that?" you moved a little closer next to him, tapping his hand away almost eagerly. When he does, you spot that knowing smile present on his lips and the uncharacteristic blush still painted on his cheeks.

"Keep doing that and I'll marry you faster, honey."

You've gotten more shy when his hand held yours in the most loving way while drawing patterns. Searching through his eyes if he was playing around, but you were met with ones you know of when they were full of sincerity. "I-i. You know, they were so cheap anyways and I figured you'd want them." he snorts before leaning his head on your arm and laughs hysterically. It was painfully obvious that you were in state of shock that you couldn't even process his words.

Up until now the effect he has on you was still there like before.

"Sweetie." he turns his body away from the table to face you, pulling you so that you were standing in between his legs looking down shyly on the floor. "I'm serious." his fingers reached for your chin to pull your head up to meet his features. His other hand still holding your smaller one; index finger tracing your ring finger in circular motions as if he was creating a make believe ring.

He should thank himself for falling in love and be trusting once again.

Because now, staring back at your eyes filled with the same amount of emotions as his. Reciprocating the exact thing he was feeling. Waking up just to start the day already wanting him to be there. Knowing all the littlest things he's shared. Hearing the erratic sound of both of your heart beats.

He knew he's made the right choice.

"You really do look like my wife. My future."

© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, ありがとうございました!! (=^･^=)